Chapter 1

Author: Hey! Welcome! Thanks for stopping by! I just have a few quick warnings about this story. First off; there is strong language, abuse, rape, sex, and violence in this story.

Also, there's a lot of sass and humor. 'MAJOR' sass attacks, especially as the story progresses. It's not entirely dramatic/angsty all the time (while there are those things in the story, there are also some funny 'bits' as well).

Anyhow, sit back, buckle in, and enjoy! Don't forget to review :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.


The opening bell rang. In terms of stocks and trading, the sound of an opening bell referred to the commencement of the trading day on an exchange floor. Given the advancement of today's technology with the majority of trading happening virtually there were only two places left in the United States that still rang an actual bell; the New York Stock Exchange and the Gotham Stock Exchange.

Myra jolted when she heard the bell. On top of Myra still being relatively new to the Gotham Stock Exchange floor, the bell was both loud and sudden despite her awareness of time and anticipation of it going off. Myra's jolted reaction caused her to raise her shoulders up, almost as if she could use the tips of her shoulders to arch inward towards her head to make contact with her ears and deafen the sound. Myra's boss took notice and gave her a playful pat on the back.

"Don't you love that sound?!" he asked Myra playfully.

Myra narrowed her gray-blue eyes briefly and looked off to the side away from her boss, restraining herself from making rude comments. She slowly rediscovered her composure and straightened out her back.

"It's just so loud. I hate loud," Myra mumbled to him.

Her boss appraised her words briefly, before giving her a shrug.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but you may have picked the wrong profession. The 'pit' is anything but quiet," he said condescendingly.

Myra didn't respond to his remark. 'The Pit' was what the floor brokers, floor traders, and market makers called the main Gotham Stock Exchange floor. It more or less attempted to describe the somewhat seemingly hostile and loud confrontations that tended to take place on it. Myra knew there was also some truth to her boss's words in regard to her choosing an appropriate career choice. She wondered the same thing for the past several weeks, after being accepted as a 'Trading Analyst Intern' for Daggett Industries, the signature brown blazer coat of Daggett employees that frequented the stock exchange floor proof of her new position. She knew she was being optimistic about her capabilities and skillset when the internship requested someone who worked well in high-pressure environments, could be comfortable working in a trading environment, and was analytical. She had the analytical part down – it was the other two traits that she was still fumbling with.

Her role as an intern didn't require her to make any business-related stock decisions, but instead was more or less a coffee mule for her boss as well as supporting his operations while at the stock exchange in hopes of slowly coaxing her into a role as an entry level trader for the company. Myra was also aware of her boss's misogyny and massive ego. She didn't put it past him to hire her simply because of her looks and his desire to have someone moderately easy-on-the-eyes at his beck and call. Her suspicions were always confirmed when she caught him taking a quick glance at her boobs or her ass when he thought she wouldn't notice. She always noticed.

Myra just finished her Bachelor's in economics and was still unsure about what area of 'economics' she wanted to delve into. She didn't pursue her degree in economics immediately out of high school; instead, she spent several years traveling and exploring various odd-ball jobs, even getting her private pilot's license and helicopter license while briefly working at a helicopter tourist location as a pilot. She lived mostly off of the money she inherited from her grandma, however, who also had been her lone-surviving relative.

Her parents and only other sibling died in a car crash when she was 5 and she had no remaining living grandparents. Despite also being in the same vehicle as her family, her injuries were minor with only a scar on her forehead and on her lower back proof of the accident. She liked to keep her ashy blonde hair cut with bangs to cover her forehead in order to hide the visual reminder.

She lived with her grandma following the accident, until her grandma's death when she was 18 years old. Perhaps it was her introverted personality, or remnants of her trauma as a child, but Myra didn't have many (if any) strong relationships in her life. This could also partly be due to her mind trying to convince her not to get in a situation that could cause her further emotional trauma. Myra, being the introvert that she was as well as being analytical, had no problem adjusting to this lack of relationships in her life. Did it make her socially awkward sometimes? Absolutely. Would she have it any other way? Nope. She also didn't currently bother with boyfriends, after a few failed relationships and equally failed attempts at using online dating apps put her off the notion as well as the recent disgusting behavior attributed by her boss.

Myra's boss led them further into the center of 'the pit' next to the monitors and computer stations. Once there, her boss immediately began interacting with one of the trading floor specialists in regard to an upcoming stock listing. Myra knew she was supposed to be attentive during this time, but she couldn't help but allow her eyes to wander around when her boss's behavior became animated and frenzied, particularly if this went on for several hours.

Several hours did indeed pass before Myra's eyes settled on the actual physical opening bell that had gone off earlier that morning, now nearly noon, wondering how old the bell must be based on the aqua-colored oxidized copper of the outer shell of the bell. She was clearly focused on her work.

Myra jolted once again, not because the bell rang but because a single shot was heard, a man next to her dropping to the ground from an apparent gun shot to his chest. Myra reacted by instinctively dropping to the ground on her chest, eyeing the man concernedly with the gunshot wound. Did he really...get shot? Is he okay? She then immediately heard a string of bullets being shot into the air by at least 3 individuals dispersed throughout the exchange that snapped her attention away from the gunshot victim, all with semi-automatic weapons and seemingly unfazed by their acts of terrorism.

Myra covered her head as sparks flew like fireworks from the terrorists blowing out the digital displays and monitors keeping track of the stock exchange figures. They did this until all of the screens were blown. She saw from the corner of her eye a large man wearing a leather delivery jacket and a distinct large mask covering his face enter through the main doors to "the pit", his saunter and presence of self clearly marking himself as the leader. Her first impression of him was that he must be a big huge idiot brute who used his fists to smash things to get his way. He was markedly larger and more imposing than the other men she had marked as his henchmen. The mask he wore was almost comical by the sinister nature of it, which reminded her of a large spider that was latched onto his face. She didn't feel like the situation was very comical, however.

He sauntered halfway through the throng of huddled and prone bodies, pausing to look around at the frightened faces with disregard before fixing his eyes on a singular brazen soul near an exchange terminal seated on a stool who decided not to crouch and take cover. The masked man reacted as if locked on target and accepting the challenge, making his way over to the man with inexplicable bravery.

"This is a stock exchange, there's no money you can steal," the brave soul barked out.

"Really?" the masked man wheezed. "Then why are you people here?" The voice of the masked man came out gravelly and mechanically amplified, the accent peculiar and hard to decipher.

The masked man lifted a gloved hand to the man's ID clipped to his chest as he said this, reading the contents quickly before grabbing him by the collar and rolling him along behind him as they made their way to another trading desk, giving the stool a strong shove with his foot.

When the man collided into the trading desk, the masked man viciously grabbed his head and knocked it into the table. Myra winced at the ferocity of the masked man's actions, turning away but quickly turning back with morbid curiosity. One of his henchmen appeared with a laptop while the masked man inserted his card into the terminal. The masked man turned around and strolled around lazily as if to appraise his reign of terror.

The faint sound of approaching sirens could be heard outside, indicating the inevitable arrival of the Gotham police. When their sirens grew louder and louder and finally stopped, it was obvious that there must have been dozens of police vehicles outside ready to react to the attempted heist. Myra had no idea why they would even try and make an attempt on the exchange, given the fact that there wasn't going to be an escape considering the police presence. What are they even stealing...? They can't get away with it...fools...

The henchman turned towards the masked man.

"They cut the fiber," he said with reluctance before checking his monitor. "Cells working."

The masked man was pacing around the floor with his gloved fingers lightly entwined, before nodding.

"For now," the masked man said thoughtfully. He continued to pace for a brief moment before gazing upwards.

"How much longer does the program need?" he said with a thick sense of assertiveness.

The henchman looked at his monitor, before turning towards the masked man with a look of resignation.

"Eight minutes," he said.

The masked man turned around and lifted a hand to indicate for his men to gather up their things and to ready for their escape.

"Time to go mobile," was all he said, before another henchman ordered everyone up from the ground and shooting into the air to prove their point and to inspire haste.

Under the instruction of John Daggett, Bane and his men were to invade the Gotham Stock Exchange in order to make a series of bad trades under Bruce Wayne's name to force Wayne Enterprises into bankruptcy, with the help of Selina Kyle who was able to provide Bruce Wayne's fingerprints. Bane was an excellent strategist, thinking of all scenarios and possibilities including making sure various cement trucks were manned at various locations outside the exchange to prevent proper police barricading.

One additional scenario that Bane predicted would undoubtedly happen during the heist was the event that several of his men would get captured during police pursuit. He only brought men that were absolutely loyal to a fault and wouldn't speak to the police when in custody. Despite this, Bane had every intention of retrieving them from the police as soon as possible since although he had many men under his command, there were only a handful of whom he could faithfully rely on and were fully devoted to him and his cause.

Bane's plan of retrieving his captured men was to be through a coordinated hostage exchange with the help of John Daggett, who had identified several of his employees as appropriate hostages. He had indicated that individuals wearing the brown trading blazer in 'the pit' were employees of his, and they would be appropriate targets. This was necessary for Bane to know, because it was his intention for John Daggett to use his influence pressure the police into a coordinated hostage exchange with the police for his own employees as well as being able to provide intel to Bane on the police's movements regarding the hostages. In order to not draw attention to the fact that Bane only chose individuals with the brown blazer, he also would choose hostages wearing different colored blazers to be used as body shields upon Bane and his men's escape.

Bane appeared to choose his hostage victims based on a whim, as if he were deciding a new paint color for his house.

"You, and…"

Bane's eyes settled on Myra's blue-gray eyes before they traveled down to her brown blazer. Please...please...don't pick me. If there is a God, please...don't let them pick me... Myra quickly averted her gaze but not before catching sight of his gloved pointed finger aiming in her direction, her heart plummeting in her chest and her lungs constricting from fear.

"And you."

Myra was hoisted up by his men, her hands bound and placed on the back of the bike of one of the henchmen. She was lucky in that she was allowed to sit forward, but when she looked to her side she saw her boss being positioned so that he was facing backwards with nothing to lean or hold onto. She gave him a frightened look, hoping he would turn towards her and offer her a look of comfort or support but all he did was look around frantically as if he were about to piss himself.

The other victims that were to be used as body shields were put on their appropriate motorcycle, the masked man's men mounting up before ordering everyone else within the exchange to slowly exit the building with the hands up. The masked man snatched his helmet from a frightened novice floor trader, not failing to issue a somewhat polite "Thank you" to the man holding his helmet before walking to his own motorcycle and mounting up.

The throng of people pushed forward, bottlenecking at the exit to the exchange. When about half of them were fully exited from the building, Bane and his men revved the engines of their motorcycles and surged forward through the crowd, uncaring if they injured anyone by striking them with their motorcycles. People screamed and pushed out of the way to avoid getting run over as Bane and his men buzzed past them. As the motorcycles exited, they immediately turned and used the police barricade ramps to make their escape. The police were obviously flustered, but quickly began their pursuit.

Myra had been screaming during the whole ordeal, using her cuffed hands to clutch the back of the jacket of the man who was driving the motorcycle. Her legs were shaking, and she felt her voice become hoarse from the screaming.

Bane and his men eventually led them to a darkened tunnel, where they eventually came to a a partial stop. When the motorcycles were fully stopped, as if pausing to turn around and observe the chase behind them, Myra turned to her right and saw her boss scramble off of the bike abruptly and make a run for it before anyone could react. This left Myra feeling utterly abandoned. She contemplated a similar attempt at hoisting herself off her bike, but her driver made the same observation that she did and revved his clutch on the motorcycle, propelling themselves forward before she could similarly react and jump off.

Bane rode up alongside them and pointed for her driver to exit down into the parking complex to elude the police. Myra's motorcycle and Bane's split off from each other, both making their way to a different entrance to the parking garage. They made their way down a ramp, and down another ramp, and then another until Myra lost count. She assumed they reached the very bottom of the basement parking complex. She observed the parking garage was abandoned with debris, garbage, and clutter strewn everywhere. They idled for several moments on their motorcycle before she saw the masked man make his way towards them on his motorcycle, his hostage clearly abandoned. This gave Myra a moderate level of hope. Maybe they will let me go too..? He motioned her driver to follow him as they drove and then parked in front of a closed utility closet. Myra's heart plummeted, fear making it difficult to breath as she contemplated the ominous insinuations of them stopping in front of a utility closet. Bane unseated himself from his motorcycle, as did her driver. Her driver grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her from her seat, making their way to the utility closet.

Myra's sense of self-preservation went into high alert as they lead her to the utility closet. She made the assumption they were taking her to a remote location to either rape or kill her. She began thrashing about and screaming, trying to pull away from the man who held her. Bane took control of the situation by grabbing her by the arm aggressively, shaking her firmly before glaring down at her.

"We aren't going to hurt you unless you give us reason to. While we had intended for at least 2 hostages, one hostage will suffice. You will enjoy yourself here in the meantime. Consider yourself my guest," the masked man said with a note of threatening tease.

It wasn't lost on Myra his use of the word 'we' collectively, and the transition to 'my' to assert authority. Bane opened the door to the utility closet, pushing her in with a shove. The utility closet was roughly a 6'x6' room with several sleeping bags in one corner, a bucket covered with a rag with a half roll of toilet paper set beside it in another corner. Myra narrowed her eyes, seeing that this plan to bring back a hostage was all highly planned and orchestrated.

Bane gave the room a look over before giving a nod as if in approval and then turned to her.

"Be thankful for your sake we didn't have additional hostages," Bane eyed her for a moment, his brows furrowed. "What's your name so that we may begin coordinating the hostage exchange?"

Myra stared back at him with a startled expression.

"Myra. Myra Bell," she said in a rush.

Bane gave her a nod in affirmation, pleased with the ease in which she provided this information.

"Very well, Ms. Bell. Enjoy your night," he said pleasantly, though Myra still didn't feel the situation warranted being described as 'pleasant'.

With that, Bane turned and shut the door with a click indicating that it was being locked externally. Myra rushed to the door to double-check that it was, indeed, locked, and pondered what he meant about being thankful that there weren't additional hostages. She turned back to look at her tiny room, realization spreading across her face. She concluded that what he meant was that they were intending to fit all of the hostages in this tiny room together, but now it's just her. She flicked her eyes to the bucket with the toilet paper, and grimaced.


After Bane had deposited Myra in her holding room, he made his way to Daggett's personal penthouse where a contingent of his men were waiting for him. His plan was to update Daggett on the Gotham Stock Exchange 'heist' as well as the capture of one of his employees as a hostage so that Daggett could begin coordinating with the police and pressuring them into a deal to exchange Bane's men for Daggett's hostage employee.

When he got to Daggett's penthouse, however, there was a mild level of chaos. Apparently, Selena Kyle had been jilted by Daggett's false promises of a clean slate program that she had hoped to trade for the finger prints that Bane had used for the Gotham Stock Exchange heist. In addition, the Batman had made an appearance and appeared to be aiding Selena Kyle in her escape attempt on the roof, obviously outmatched and outnumbered by Bane's men who were slowly encircling her, ready to strike. Bane caught the trail end of the confrontation, seeing Selena Kyle and the Batman running towards the far side of the roof from the door which Bane entered the roof from after disarming and knocking down his men. Once they made their way to the edge, the Batman jumped off. Selena Kyle was more reluctant, crouching down and looking back as if gauging her chances of survival between jumping off the roof and confronting Bane and his men. She chose the latter, following Batman off the roof with a hop.

Bane sauntered towards the edge of the roof where they made their jump, his hands clutching the straps of his vest as he approached the ledge. As he peered down, almost expecting lifeless bodies on the street or perhaps even Selena Kyle and the Batman grappling against a rope, a large personal militaristic plane with hovering capabilities rose up vertically, flashing its high-powered lights at Bane and the surface area of the roof before zipping off into the night, obviously harboring the Batman and Selena Kyle. Bane simply observed passively as if he were bird watching.

After watching the flying object disappear into the night, Bane turned towards the frazzled and huffy John Daggett, reacting to the abuse he received from Selena Kyle. Bane stood in front of Daggett, watching him make a spectacle of being disheveled, irritated, and out of breath. Bane said nothing but only stared, and after several moments of Daggett's behavior and even looking up to see Bane staring down at him, Daggett calmed down knowing he wasn't going to get any sympathy from Bane over the ordeal.

"What happened?" Bane inquired.

"That bitch attacked me. She was trying to find the clean slate program, which we obviously don't have," Daggett said with still a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Bane regarded him, giving a nod.

"Leave her to me," Bane said thoughtfully.

Several moments passed before he proceeded on to the next topic on the agenda.

"The 'heist' is complete. We were also successful in capturing one of your Daggett Industries stock employees. We have her in custody now. It's now up to you to use your persuasion with the police. I expect you will keep me informed of any developments regarding the police in this matter?" Bane questioned laced with a hint of threat.

The look that Bane gave John Daggett indicated he wasn't going to accept any other answer other than 'Yes, of course'.

Daggett slowly began to nod, his eyes searching as if calculating the situation. He looked back to Bane, his eyebrows raised.

"You only have one? I thought the plan was for two at least? How many of your men were captured?" Daggett whined.

Bane returned his gaze, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly in irritation. He took a slight step towards Daggett, as if challenging him.

"One of your employees managed to get away, leaving us with only one," Bane explained in a mildly irritated tone.

Bane turned his head off to the side and looked back over his shoulder at Barsad, his second-in-command. Barsad knew what information Bane wanted without even asking.

"Two captured, sir," Barsad replied quickly and quietly.

Bane turned back to Daggett.

"Two of my men were captured in the ordeal. I hope this won't be a problem for you?" Bane asked, his voice rising just slightly with a subtle note of threat intertwined in his words.

Daggett only stared back at him, processing the information. Of course it would be difficult to coordinate a hostage exchange with the police involving two of Bane's men for only one hostage. He swallowed nervously, trying not to let his anxiety show. He nodded after several moments.

"I can do it," he said with questionable confidence.

"Excellent," Bane barked before turning around and exiting Daggett's roof, his men in tow.

Before Bane fully exited the roof, and after Daggett had time to internally process and play out possible scenarios of the situation, he called after Bane.

"It would be more compelling if there was video evidence of her in captivity," Daggett said loudly with a hint of slime in his voice.

"That can be arranged," Bane nodded with a reply, continuing towards the exit without turning around.


Bane and his men had set up their base in the underground maze of the water outflow systems below Gotham City. The following morning, after the Gotham Stock Exchange ordeal as well as the verbal exchange with John Daggett, Bane instructed Barsad to prepare for the video that Daggett requested while Bane went and handled another internal logistics matter.

Bane retrieved Barsad once his personal affairs were in order. They made their way down a considerable length of passage in the underground outflow systems before coming to a rusty metal vertical ladder that led to a manhole. They both climbed it, pushing aside the manhole as they made it to the top. Once out, it was only a few steps to the underground garage that Myra was kept. They made sure they weren't seen as they made their way out of the manhole and into the building, it most undoubtedly being a very suspicious spectacle.

Barsad carried a tripod and a cheap home video camera in a bag over his shoulder as they walked down the abandoned underground parking lot. When they got to the door, then opened it and was greeted by a very startled Myra crouched and hunched in the corner, her eyes clearly illustrating her fright and lack of sleep. She had bangs under her eyes after assumedly staying up all night half-expecting someone to enter her room at any second and kill or assault her.

Barsad set the bag and the tripod down before walking over to the human waste bucket unabashedly, picking it up and exiting the room to dispose of the contents. This left Bane and Myra alone. Myra watched Barsad's back as he left, and then snapped back to Bane. Bane simply regarded her. Bane waved a hand at her passively, trying to make his body appear relaxed to indicate he meant no ill will towards her.

"We are going to be capturing a video of you to indicate your state of captivity. We won't harm you unless you give us reason to," Bane said matter-of-factly.

Despite this masked man in front of her being the whole reason she was in this current predicament as a hostage, the polite tone he used as well as the level of sincerity he implemented into his tone convinced her, and she unabashedly believed him. Her initial first impression of him also started to shift from "Big dumb brute, ME SMASH!" to something else. His accent was peculiar, his tone was authoritative, but it also masked a level of intelligence that she saw seeping through with his choice of verbiage and sentence delivery. She simply nodded in reply, slowly rising to her feet, pushing her back against the wall for leverage as she did so.

Bane nodded, pleased that this situation wasn't going to be more difficult than needed.

"Good," he said curtly, as Barsad came back in with a cleaned-out-bucket before motioning for Barsad to set up the video equipment.

Once the equipment was properly arranged, he pointed to the floor in the center of the room for Myra to sit, up against the wall. She complied moving to the designated spot, sitting down and bringing her knees up to chest, staring at directly at the camera. Barsad turned the camera on.

"What is your name?" Bane asked her from behind the camera.

"Myra Bell," Myra said shyly.

"Why are you here, Ms. Bell?" Bane inquired.

"I'm being held hostage. I was taken from the Gotham Stock Exchange," Myra proceeded, her voice hitching slightly.

Bane continued.

"Who is your employer?" he asked.

Myra had to take a second to consider the question as if caught unawares, before answering Bane.

"John Daggett. Daggett Industries," she said, directing her voice to the camera.

Bane nodded from behind the camera, before making one final statement to the camera.

"The police have in their possession two of my men. I require their release in exchange for Myra Bell. Consider her life forfeit if you do not comply."

With that, Bane turned off the camera.

Myra looked around awkwardly, processing the insinuation that she might possibly die if the police don't follow through with the masked man's demands. She felt conflicted internally because moments earlier, he had promised that he wouldn't hurt her – and she believed him.

Bane picked up on the concerned expression spreading across her face before letting his hand wave at her as if he were wiping chalk from a chalkboard.

"Fear not, I have faith in the Gotham Police's integrity and their correct handling of this matter. I don't anticipate you being here for more than a few days," Bane said in a bored tone.

Myra let her eyes wander back to his as he made this declaration, her mind easing considerably. She relaxed her shoulders and let them drop, bringing her hands to her knee caps and rubbing them idly before using them to leverage herself up into a standing position. She leaned back against the wall, watching the two men pack up and make their exit. Bane turned back and regarded her briefly, seeing the tired expression still written across her face. "Someone will be down later with food", as if giving her a fair warning that someone will be entering her room. With that, he shut the door and locked it.


The man that brought her food several hours later was neither Barsad nor Bane, and when he opened the door and looked around it was obvious he hadn't seen the hostage set-up yet. He turned to look at Myra with curiosity, a grin spreading across his face. It made Myra uncomfortable. She sat in the corner as he walked in, bent down and put the plate of food on the ground before straightening his back and looking at her as if expecting a 'thank you'. All she did was stare back at him. He gave her a smirk, slowly turning around before exiting.

Myra looked at the plate of food which consisted of some mashed potatoes that looked like they were prepared from a large giant pot, some pathetic looking small baby carrots, a red apple with bruises all over it, and a cheese sandwich. She grimaced but ate the cheese sandwich hungrily, not having eaten since the day before. She ate the rest of the food more hesitantly, noting the lack of food utensils to eat the mashed potatoes. She smooshed them together with her fingertips instead and fed them into her mouth like a cave troll.

After Myra was finished with her meal, she placed the plate by the door. She went to the two sleeping bags on the floor and curled up inside them like a caterpillar in a cocoon. She wasn't tired but chose to attempt at sleep out of sheer boredom. She made a habit of laying nestled in the sleeping bag and idly counting the little crater imperfections in the cement walls. She would repeat the process once she made it all the way around the room, or until she fell asleep. When she woke up, she would get out of her sleeping bag and stretch, pace around the room and then resume her spot in the sleeping bag before counting the small indentations in the cement wall again. Her mind did wander periodically to the intent and purpose of the 'heist' that she witnessed, as well as those involved, but she couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly (and successfully) rob a stock exchange on top of taking hostages. Their plan wasn't flippant either; it had been orchestrated, because Myra knew fingerprints were used to access information in the trading desk. She felt like even doing that would be futile depending on who they 'stole' from, because that individual could just declare fraud and eventually have their funds redistributed back into their account. It confused her, and it was a puzzle she couldn't work out.

This routine of sleeping, pacing, being brought a basic plate of food, thinking about her captors and what their intent was went on for 1, 2, 3, and finally 4 days. She never saw Bane or Barsad during that time, but saw the same individual bringing her the food. Each time he seemed somewhat more adventurous in his attempts to draw her attention to him and get her to say something to him. She didn't humor him, and she could tell it made him mildly upset. She wondered if he spat in her food before he brought it to her. Her mind was also slowly spiraling into irritability as boredom pounded at the edges of her consciousness. She needed something to do or she felt herself ready to pop, particularly since she had been told convincingly that she would only be confined for several days. She felt that she had been in the utility closet room for much longer than a few days.


Bane was acutely aware of how many days had passed since Myra was initially brought in as a hostage and went to give John Daggett a visit to amplify pressure for him to get the situation resolved quickly, not caring or desiring to have a hostage holed up under his care. When he confronted Daggett about it, Daggett seemed flustered and ready to deflect blame onto the police.

"They aren't too happy about the two-for-one deal…I'm pressuring them as much as I can but they are dragging their feet. There is nothing I can do!" Daggett said with frustration.

Bane regarded him, his fists clutched against the collar of his jacket.

"Certainly, there are things you can do to accelerate this situation," Bane said with a threatening undertone.

Daggett didn't like to be tested or challenged from an authoritative level, so he glared back at Bane after finding courage.

"I'm doing what I can. I'll let you know if there is an update," Daggett said irritably.

Bane stared at him, not speaking. He gave Daggett a visual look-over, before turning to exit with the men that had escorted him to Daggett's penthouse. They returned back to their base in the underground water reflow system.


This new indeterminant amount of time concerning how long he was to keep the hostage meant Bane had to rework some aspects of his plan and schedule, which he was less than thrilled to do. He knew what it was like to be in solitary confinement in a small room with nothing to do or to keep the mind occupied. Although he didn't know Myra, he wouldn't wish that kind of isolation on his worst enemy. He decided he would need to accommodate her situation so that she was a bit more comfortable since her stay now seemed to be for an undetermined amount of time.

He resorted to alternating between himself and Barsad with visiting Myra, not trusting anyone else to engage in prolonged visits with her for her own safety. The visits consisted of simply things like playing cards, board games, and chatting idly; things he did with his own men when they were out deployed on a mission in an isolated region with nothing to do. He also provided her with reading material for when she was by herself. He noticed she plowed through the books he gave her almost as fast as he delivered them.

During these visits, Myra had been able to learn a great deal about Bane through Barsad, though she knew the information was inconsequential and couldn't be used against him when she made her eventual way back to safety in police custody.

"What's your boss's name?" Myra asked Barsad as she flipped her playing card over on the small fold-out table that was brought in for their card game, she seated in a cheap fold-out chair.

Barsad lifted his eyebrows as if in shock and amusement and gave her a look as if she were an idiot with his signature lazy eyes.

"Bane," he said simply.

Up to that point, Myra had simply referred to Bane internally as 'masked man spider-face'. She paused briefly, letting her eyebrows scrunch together as if contemplating that name.

"Bane? Bane?" she asked incredulously, as if she didn't believe it.

Barsad let his eyes drop to his cards, bored with the question and simply nodding.

"Where did he come up with that?" Myra asked, curiosity thick in her voice.

"You'll have to ask him," Barsad said simply, before plucking a card from his hand and exchanging it for one on the table.

Myra narrowed her eyes at him, knowing he must have known the answer but was withholding the information from her for whatever reason.


The next day, when it was Bane's turn to entertain her with whatever game he chose, Myra asked him without hesitation.

"Where did you get your name, 'Bane'?" she asked, getting right to the point and before Bane could even begin shuffling the deck of cards.

Bane let his eyebrows raise in surprise, letting them lift to look at her as if trying to determine why she was even asking. When she simply started back at him, he shrugged his shoulders as if he were indifferent with the answer.

"My mother named me," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Myra stared at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if he were jesting with her. When she saw that his face didn't shift from the look of boredom and instead idly focused on shuffling and distributing cards, she continued.

"What? Really? Why did she name you 'Bane'," Myra asked incredulously.

Bane finished distributing the cards, picking up his own and looking at them with the continued bored expression.

"She named me so because I was the bane of her existence," Bane said simply, emotionless, his focus on his cards.

Myra stared at him, waiting for him to slap his knee as if he were telling a great joke, but knew she wasn't going to get that kind of reaction from him based on her previous incorrect assumption that he was pulling her tail.

"That's terrible," Myra said sadly.

"I was born in a prison. I can hardly blame her," Bane said as if defending her, turning over one of the playing cards.

"What happened to her?" Myra asked.

"She died when I was young. Some fellow prisoners raped and killed her," Bane said. He could just as easily have been talking about what color the sky was.

This shocked and appalled Myra, who froze while in the middle of turning a card over.

"I'm sorry…that's awful." She didn't know what else to say.

"The world can be an awful place," Bane replied matter-of-factly, emotionlessly, before turning over another card and continued on with the game.


The next time Myra was with Bane, she ventured out of her comfort zone and engaged in a somewhat controversial topic with him.

"Gotham seems to attract a lot of attention from unsavory individuals," Myra said.

Myra let her eyes peak at him suggestively as she said this before looking back down at her cards.

Bane seemed to find her statement mildly amusing.

"I'm unsavory?" he asked as if he were wounded from her insinuation.

Myra eyed him for several seconds, letting her eyes roam from the top of his shiny head, over his mask that looked like a mechanical spider, and down over his body which was undoubtedly muscular. He wasn't necessarily the most approachable looking guy. In fact, she remembers being outright terrified of him when she first saw him at the Gotham Stock Exchange.

"Ehh….I'm not sure I would categorize you as 'savory', necessarily," Myra said as if she were trying to be polite.

"Well, we'll have to change that mindset of yours," Bane said in mild jest, though she caught a serious undertone in his statement that gave her goosebumps.

Myra didn't respond, letting his statement settle in the air between them as they played their card game. Bane, surprisingly, decided to break the silence.

"If Gotham has such an unappealing feature, then why do you live here?" Bane asked.

Myra rose her eyes up from her cards, which she was idly adjusting in her hand.

"I moved here for college. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay here, but when Daggett Industries offered me an internship I felt like that helped me make up my mind," she said idly, in an almost bored tone.

Bane just acknowledged her with a silent nod as he placed a card down on the table.

"Do you think it is possible that Gotham attracts these individuals because it isn't as innocent as you may believe? That it harbors individuals that must be punished? That it needs to be allowed to burn so that it can be allowed to grow anew?" Bane questioned.

Myra thought about what he said for a few moments.

"I feel like it would be pretty difficult to pull off what you are implying without killing innocent people," Myra replied.

"Perhaps it's those 'innocent people' that allowed Gotham to get in the state of decay that its in? Shouldn't they be punished?" Bane said with slight vigor.

"Children should be punished?" Myra said incredulously.

Bane observed her, knowing her stance on the matter was going to be unwavering regarding this topic. He let out a shrug after several moments of reflection, knowing he should appreciate her conviction if nothing else. After several moments, Myra asked the question that was burning on her mind.

"What are you doing in Gotham? Are you planning on burning it down?" Myra asked with slight sarcasm.

"Burning it down? No," Bane said simply.

Myra wasn't sure why, but his answer unsettled her. She shifted in her weight in her seat.

"Then what? Why am I even here? Who's money did you steal at the Gotham Exchange? What do you intend to do with it?" Myra let the floodgate of questions burst out.

Bane put his cards down on the table with a sigh before getting up from his seat.

"I believe we are done here," he said. He turned around and left the room before properly addressing Myra's slew of questions. Myra simply let out a sigh.


A handful of days later, Myra started to wonder when she was going to be released. It had now been two weeks, and Bane had indicated he had only expected a few days to go by before some level of action was taken for the exchange. Her curiosity finally piqued.

"When will I be let go?" she asked hesitantly.

Bane was in the middle of rearranging the cards in his hand, and briefly looked up at her before returning to focus on his cards.

"Things aren't going according to plan," was all Bane said.

Myra's face dropped at his response, feeling somewhat responsible for the delay in moving forward with the exchange. She let her guilt seep through with a statement after giving out a deep sigh.

"Well, you couldn't have picked a worse hostage. I doubt there is anyone advocating for my release. Maybe my boss, but I've only been working for a few weeks so….." She let her voice trail off as she let her eyes refocus on her cards.

Bane lifted his eyes suddenly at her remark about her boss advocating for her, almost reflexively wondering if she had knowledge of John Daggett leveraging the police into an exchange. He wrote that idea off as ridiculous, however, and then simply stared at her.

"What?" he asked in a somewhat affronted tone.

Bane's tone startled Myra, who realized it was perhaps a mistake to indicate she was basically worthless as a hostage since no one would want to pay for her ransom nor would they put up a sob story about their dear daughter missing and how they want her back as soon as possible. She quickly backpedaled, swallowing nervously.

"I only meant that I don't have any family or relatives who would vouch for me. I'm pretty sure Daggett Industries has hostage insurance, so if its money you're after…" She had no idea if Daggett Industries had hostage insurance. She was hoping he wouldn't see through her bluff.

Bane, of course, was not after money so he wrote her comment off. He simply regarded the information she gave him as one additional bit of information he knew about Myra Bell.

"Are they deceased?" Bane asked out of mild curiosity and politeness.

Myra worked her lips into a line before letting them fidget as she thought about an answer.

"Car crash when I was little. My brother, mom, and dad died. I got to walk away with a scar on my forehead and on my back," she said as if she were trying to sound grateful but having difficulty.

Bane's eyes darted to her forehead for physical evidence of her claim and saw between two strands of her ash-blonde bangs a discolored bumpy patch of skin that was obviously the scar. He stared at it for several seconds before letting his attention drift back down to his cards.

"Scars are reminders of what we have endured and overcame," Bane said thoughtfully as he shifted the cards in his hand, placing one down on the table.

Myra's eyes rose to look at him questioningly before they traveled over any uncovered skin on his body that may indicate scar tissue. He had a scar on the side of his head, as well as a very large scar at the base of his neck that stretched down into his shirt. She wasn't sure how far it stretched down, but assumed it probably stretched the length of his spine. She wanted to ask him about his scars but was interrupted by him placing his full card hand on the table in victory and stood up abruptly. He left the cards on the table for Myra to clean up, pushing himself up off of the cheap plastic fold-out chair that looked like it was on the verge of collapsing from his weight. He exited the room, turning towards her curtly.

"Until next time," he said.

Then he was gone.