Even though he failed to locate Kitty's colleagues at the condo, Bane had decided to remain there for a few more days, indulging in some much-needed respite time.
He quickly realized the benefits of the tiny living space. No one would ever find him or think to look for him in a place that wasn't the sewers, City Hall or Daggett's townhouse. It was the perfect spot to deal with the mounting noise in his head. His kidnapped second-in-command was nowhere to be found, local athletes were taking down his mercenaries, and Kitty Nash had acquired a very low opinion of his masculinity.
Talia's revised plans for Gotham had paralyzed him, but now he was beginning to feel empowered enough to fight back.
He reluctantly emerged from his first night at the condo to check on the townhouse, where there were housekeeping issues that needed to be attended to. He planned to return directly to the condo when he was done.
The minute he entered the sterile glass and gold foyer of John Daggett's home he felt something was amiss.
He could smell trouble as he passed through the common area in search of Vlad Petrov, who had taken on much of Barsad's detail in the wake of the latter's abduction.
Upon entering the dining area, Bane found him. The Russian was sprawled on the floor to the left of the large dining table. Beside him lay an open bottle of wine that had spilled, leaving a large, sticky stain on one of Daggett's prized Persian rugs.
Bane observed him darkly before heading down the hall to where Kitty had been held. He wasn't surprised by what he saw. She had obviously left in haste, taking a change of clothing and food from the kitchen.
Returning to the dining room, Bane reached for a jug of water and poured it all over Vlad's head. He then shoved his boot under Vlad's belly and rolled him over on his back.
"Good morning, Mr. Petrov," he rumbled ominously. "My apologies for interrupting your slumber."
Vlad threw his arm over his face to shield his eyes from the harsh light. He felt so ill that he didn't care that it was Bane who hovered over him.
"It appears Katrina Nash has escaped on your watch."
"Huh?" Vlad groaned. "No, she was...just here, pouring the wine... making dinner."
"It would seem that was hours ago, Mr. Petrov. The food she prepared is cold and there are four empty bottles of wine. It is clear to me that you passed out, during which time Katrina made her escape."
Vlad groaned again. "I ask her to drink with me. The last thing I remember."
"I assume you have never had the pleasure of watching Katrina perform, Mr. Petrov." Bane's heavy boot came to rest on Vlad's chest. "I can assure you that both on and off the stage she is quite captivating. You might say bewitching. One can lose oneself in her eyes. Make no mistake, Mr. Petrov. Kitty has a powerful allure."
It was an allure Bane knew well. He had told himself that his poor sexual performance was for the benefit of breaking her, but now he was beginning to suspect that he had disappointed her in order to fight his own attraction to her.
"What happened last night, Mr. Petrov? Did Katrina bewitch you?"
Vlad's breathing had become laboured under the weight of Bane's foot.
"You don't understand, sir. I think... you talk about beauty and sex. There...there are other ways a man can be bewitched."
"Really? Bane drawled curiously, raising his eyebrow. "Enlighten me."
"If Kitty bewitch me, she did it with food and drink. She was my... as the Americans say... my 'drinking buddy' last night."
Bane's brow furrowed at the Russian's unexpected declaration.
"Thank you, Mr. Petrov," he chirped. "You have been extremely helpful."
For a while it pleased Bane to think Kitty might well be on her way to being broken. In the days following their failed sexual encounter, Bane had threatened her with a knife, and forced her to give him information about the whereabouts of her colleagues.
Yet somehow, in the space of a few short hours, she had rallied in a most spectacular way.
She had bewitched Vlad with her culinary talents, and plied him with wine until he collapsed in a drunken heap next to the dining room table.
Behind the mask, Bane's mild amusement morphed into a full-on smirk. Perhaps he'd been a bit premature in assuming she was close to being broken. After all, her actions against Vlad had proven her to be as duplicitous as ever.
He removed his heavy boot from Vlad's chest, choosing instead to haul the Russian up by a handful of his thick curly hair.
"You've earned a reprieve for now, Mr. Petrov," Bane rasped ominously. "Never let me see you like this again."
At the Bradbury Hotel, Kitty's colleagues had come to a difficult decision.
Hostage-taking had become somewhat of a liability for them.
So, on a chilly fall evening, they took to the balcony, closing the sliding glass doors so that they could speak freely without Barsad hearing.
They decided that they needed to be out in the field, contributing to the rebellion that they had helped to start. They couldn't assist a rebellion and babysit a prisoner at the same time.
Well before sunrise, Barsad was led out of the condo and frogmarched to the parking area at Arkham Asylum.
"You're on your own now, Mr. Barsad," Alia said. "Someone will surely find you here. Better hope it's not one of ours or you may find your head being used for target practice."
"And you're gonna die, bitch," Barsad hissed. The genial personality he had affected during his captivity had been replaced with unbridled rage in the face of the indignities the group had subjected him to.
"Your obituary is gonna read that you were an understudy to Kitty Nash, and nothing else. Yea, and your tombstone's gonna read, 'Always the understudy. Never the leading lady'."
Barsad's harsh words felt like a violent slap in the face. Alia tried to maintain a calm demeanour as she digested his words.
"Shut up, punk!" Brady ordered.
"You stole my rifle." Barsad sneered. "I'll get you for that!"
"You stole our city," Danny retorted. "We'll get you for that!"
"This isn't a good look," Barsad scoffed. "You guys are actors who don't live in the real world. You never had a plan when you kidnapped me. Still don't. And now you're afraid to kill me. I was right when I said you were a bunch of amateurs."
"C'mon, team," Danny said, steering Alia and Brady away from the angry mercenary. "We're done here."
With those words the performers turned their backs on Barsad, leaving him blindfolded and handcuffed on the outskirts of town as the morning sun rose in the sky.
The condo's exterior door creaked ominously as Kitty pushed it open.
Surely it was now a safe place to hide. It had been almost two days since she had told Bane that the condo was where he might find her colleagues, and she assumed he was done searching it.
She couldn't have known that Bane had decided to use it as a place of respite for himself.
Suddenly his presence filled the living area, as did the odour of leather and gunpowder.
Kitty was frozen with fear at the sight of him seated on Detective Blake's leather couch. She had finally taken Bane seriously as a dangerous man thanks to the feel of cold steel against her throat, administered by the ruthless mercenary himself.
She was attracted to him, but being scared of him was new to her. Kitty closed her eyes and centred herself as if she were about to take the stage on opening night.
"I...I didn't expect to find you here. I'll...I'll just get my things and go if you don't mind," she said in rushed tones as she gathered her coat around her.
For a long minute the only sound in the room was Bane's uneven respiration. Behind the mask he smirked at the absurd assumption she had just made.
"I'm afraid no one is leaving at present," Bane rumbled as he rose from his seat and approached Kitty ever so slowly.
"Oh please," Kitty fretted. "I'm done. I don't want to have my life or my career threatened with a knife. I finally understand that it's wiser to fear you and treat you with respect, rather than mock you."
"Indeed, a wise decision," Bane rasped. "But surely you derived amusement from incapacitating Mr. Petrov in order to escape?"
"No, I didn't. I've been genuinely frightened since you threatened to cut my vocal chords. Vlad made it easy for me to get the upper hand, although I'm sure you and your men consider my actions entry-level shenanigans."
'You managed to get the job done." Bane nodded in approval.
"Thank you," Kitty muttered, backing away as Bane took another step toward her.
"Tell me what is in the bag," he ordered, indicating the large canvas bag she held.
"Just a few rations."
"I will ask again. What is in the bag?" Bane demanded, sensing she wasn't being truthful.
"It's...it's nothing, really. I prepared it for the mercenaries, but at the last minute I decided they might take offence, thinking i was trying to give them a lesson in social graces. I took it with me because I didn't want it to go to waste.
"Show me," Bane rasped. "Then I will decide if you stay or go."
Kitty sighed dejectedly. If showing him the bag's contents got her any closer to the door then she was willing to give him a whole presentation.
"If you can wait a few minutes, I'll take it into the kitchen and make it presentable." Despite her fear of Bane, she was adamant that anything made by her was always beautifully presented.
"Do not try to escape," Bane warned her. "It will not end well."
For the next several minutes, he waited impatiently as he listened to the sound of plates clattering and a tea kettle whistling.
Eventually she appeared with a vintage tea set, which she placed on the condo's tiny coffee table.
"Imagine a man like Detective Blake owning fancy things like these," Kitty mused, trying to make small talk. "Now, how do you take your tea?"
Bane remained silent as a memory washed over him. A fragment of better days, when he enjoyed the fruits of family and tradition. A time when he was considered an agreeable gentleman despite his disturbing mask. Memories forged before his cruel banishment, after which he was forced to support himself as a soldier of fortune.
"How silly of me. I've forgotten the most important thing." Kitty rushed back into the kitchen and emerged with a 3-tier tea tray stacked with sandwiches and sweets.
"Let me explain how it works," Kitty offered. "Then I'm afraid that I really do have to go."
"Allow me, Katrina." Bane cut her off, gently pushing her soft, trembling hands aside.
"The bottom tier consists of finger sandwiches; the middle tier holds scones, clotted cream, and preserves, and the top tier hosts a selection of mini desserts and cakes. It is customary to begin with the sandwiches at the bottom tier, moving upwards and saving the sweets for last."
"Ah, so you're familiar with it," Kitty sighed, feeling foolish.
"I am a worldly man, Kitty. Afternoon tea is well known to me."
"I underestimated you."
"It would not be the first time." Bane's eyes remained on Kitty, piercing the veil of shyness that he'd never noticed before. It suddenly occurred to him that she could be quite charming. However, he remained vigilant in the event that she tried to deceive him.
"You still haven't told me how you take your tea."
"I don't," Bane replied, taking yet another step toward her. "As you know, afternoon tea is meant to fill the long gap between lunch and dinner. I do not have the luxury of such a gap."
Because Bane had just revealed something very intimate about himself, Kitty chose her next worlds carefully. She reached up and gently touched the cylinders of his mask.
"You know, afternoon tea is not all that it's cracked up to be," she whispered. "Trust me, you're not missing a thing."
Her words seemed to hit home, as Bane's chocolate coloured eyes smouldered with unbridled lust. Kitty recognized his distraction as opportunity and rushed past him in an attempt to reach the door.
Of course, he was too fast for her and grasped her wrist so firmly that she tumbled to the floor.
"I'm afraid you won't be leaving here anytime soon, Katrina."
Suddenly the condo door flew open and a spectacularly beautiful woman whom Kitty didn't recognize burst inside.
Kitty knew the voice, however. It was Bane's superior officer, the woman she had nick-named 'Lady Macbeth'.
"What in the hell is going on here?" the woman demanded as she cast a murderous look at Bane...
A/N: Thank you for your patience. It's been a while...