Chapter 3
Author: Let me know what you think! I love hearing feedback and tips for improvement :)
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.
Myra relished in the opportunity to sleep in a cot and using an actual toilet after having spent several weeks using a sleeping bag and using the bucket on the concrete floor. Her body and limbs rejoiced at the feeling of being cradled by the hardened canvas of the cot. She didn't even mind that the bedding she used had the faint smell of Bane, which included campfire, motor oil, and almonds as well as another musky male smell she couldn't quite place. She did stay up for several hours contemplating Bane's motive for killing his own men. She still wasn't sure if Bane's reaction towards the men who tried to force themselves on her was induced by them disobeying his orders, because he had a sensitive spot regarding rape in general due to his mother falling to a similar fate, or because….because they were hurting me?
Myra felt like she had slept for hours before she was finally woken up to the sound of the door screeching open. She jerked her head to the door to see who the intruder was. It was Bane, who held a pile of fresh clothes in his hand. When Bane put them down, she noted that they were new clothes for her that even included a few additional items such as training shoes and socks. She lifted herself up on her elbows to look at the clothing from a better angle.
"Your other clothing was unfortunately…stained from yesterday's events, so I hope you don't mind a fresh wardrobe," Bane said almost embarrassingly.
Myra's mind snapped back to 'yesterday's events', which of course involved Bane tearing into three grown men in a relatively small utility room. Her mind began to visualize what he meant by 'stained', and only assumed he meant that some of the human blood and organic matter must have splattered so excessively that they found their way on the clothes she had in her room.
Myra brought a hand up to wipe her eyes in an attempt to remove the mental image. Bane interpreted her gesture as either annoyance at losing her clothes or anxiety at being reminded of the events. He quickly proceeded to explain the purpose of his visit, aside from bringing her clothes.
"I've decided you would benefit heavily from proper self-defense instruction in the extremely unlikely event that I would be unable to provide you with assistance," Bane announced.
Bane must have seen the look of terror on her face, so he felt the need to elaborate.
"Of course, you should not worry about requiring those skills while here…" Bane continued, satisfied when he saw Myra's severe expression lessen considerably.
"What kind of self-defense training?" Myra asked, no longer reluctant but now curious.
Bane regarded her question thoughtfully.
"Just a series of moves and techniques that could aid you in the event of an assault against you. I won't be teaching you offensive techniques, unfortunately," Bane said sternly as if she may had been scheming the idea of using anything he taught her against him, which of course she hadn't.
Myra felt herself smirk at his comment.
"What? No offensive techniques?" she quipped, moving herself up into a seated position on the cot and bringing one of her arms to flex her bicep.
"Afraid of this?" she continued, going so far as to squeeze her bicep with her free hand, clearly squishing into string-bean flabby arms that lacked any definition or muscle.
Myra of course thought she was far funnier than her audience did, with Bane simply staring at her as if he wasn't sure if she were being serious or sincere. Myra's face faltered and she dropped her arms when Bane didn't react as well to the joke as she had anticipated.
"You may even enjoy the lessons and the exercise; I know you must not enjoy the physical confines of the room all day and all night," Bane said in a tone that had indicated her comfort was at least on some spectrum in his mind.
"When are we starting?" Myra finally asked.
"Right now. Get dressed. I'll be outside," Bane replied before turning around and closing the door.
Myra went to the clothes that Bane had brought and shuffled through them. She changed into a pair of fitted work-out pants, a sports bra, a t-shirt, socks, and the training sneakers. She found a piece of parachute cord on the ground and used it to tie up her hair. When she was fully dressed, she exited the room hesitantly.
Bane was standing outside with his arms crossed, his eyes directed towards the monitors. When he heard her exit the room, he turned around to appraise her apparel change. He gave a nod before turning away and making his way down a hall. She assumed he meant for her to follow him, so she did so in a brisk walk so as not to fall behind.
Myra followed him down the hall, where they made their way a short distance away to a large open area that had EVA foam mats littered all over the floor. Myra assumed this was to make the floor more comfortable than the cement in case someone fell on it. Myra rubbed her hands together as if she were cold, though in actuality she was just nervous though she couldn't trace why she was feeling that way.
When they made it to the center of the large room, Bane turned towards her.
"Rule one," he said, obviously transitioned into instructor mode. "Use your aggression and force. Let it be known you're powerful, even if you yourself don't think so. The worst mistake is not believing or trying. Be loud. Be intimidating. Create attention," Bane listed these off as if reading from a grocery list.
Myra absorbed it all, keeping her eyes focused on his. Bane stepped closer to her and grabbed her hand roughly with his and raising it up so that her hand was directly in her face.
"Use your fingernails if you need to, but you may injure yourself. Be prepared for that pain. A better alternative is using a tool, like a pen, to stab into your attacker. I'd recommend the neck," Bane said as if he were providing baking tips for a baking the perfect pie.
Myra swallowed and stared fixated on her hand, letting her eyes look at her fingernails before she let them settle on Bane's hand holding hers. Bane let her hand drop before continuing.
"The most ideal location you could ever kick to disable your attacker is the groin. If you are able to do it with enough force, you could even paralyze them," Bane said, before moving around behind her and letting his hands fall down to her hips to position her body over her legs into a proper kick stance.
"Let's proceed with working on your kicks…" Bane said over her shoulder before they both worked on Myra's kicking capabilities and improvement upon this.
By the end of what felt like hours of kicking, her legs felt like jelly. She even tested her luck by falling dramatically forward onto her chest, burying her face into the mat as if she were too exhausted to move. She knew this slick maneuver earned her a ride from Bane back to her room when she was forced to run 50 laps around the parking garage. She was hoping he would provide her the same courtesy today.
Bane simply stared down at her dramatic display, letting a sigh waft through the grill of his mask. He moved to her side without a word, bending down and flipping her onto her back before lifting her up into his arms with ease. Bane's eyes roamed to her face as he straightened up from the ground and saw a faint hint of a smile on her lips, almost as if she were actively trying to conceal it. He ignored it as he strode her back to her room and deposited her unceremoniously on the cot, not being as gentle as he was when he had performed the same task to return her to her utility room. Myra bounced several times before settling, her arms coming out to balance herself out. She turned her face to give him a glare, before turning onto her side and burrowing herself into the cot nest of blankets.
This sort of routine lasted for a week, with Bane providing Myra with some rudimentary skills regarding defense techniques which transitioned into Myra feigning exhaustion once the lesson was over and ending with Bane carrying her back to her room and either depositing or throwing her onto her cot. Aside from the slight act of aggression in his method of disposing her body onto her bed, Bane didn't show any indicator that he disapproved or disliked carrying her back to her room. Myra knew he simply wouldn't pick her up if he truly didn't want to and would and could resort to threatening her to get up if he desired. But he never did.
Myra's utility closet room was eventually cleaned and she was transferred back to it during the evenings and nights to her disappointment.
She knew that transferring her back to the utility closet in the evenings allowed Bane privacy in the room to use the sink, mirror, and shower. She also knew she was transferred back during the day so that it was easier to start the defense training at a moment's notice if need be, in addition to the added benefit of Bane now being able to keep an eye on her and actively prevent any additional hiccups regarding individuals entering her living space without Bane's permission. What Bane didn't tell her was that he figured she enjoyed the cot and the amenities of the sink, shower, and toilet during the day, and sacrificed the use of these amenities in private for her comfort.
Bane started to bring Barsad into the training area now that Myra had advanced somewhat and now had need of a volunteer to aid in trying out several of Bane's self-defense techniques. Bane volunteered Barsad's body for the purpose of learning.
When Myra was learning how to leverage her weight to flip her opponent from behind her, Myra was extremely skeptical about her ability to roll or manipulate Barsad's weight, considering her own size, strength, and weight compared to his. She wasn't 'short', but she wasn't as tall or as big as Barsad was.
"I'm going to injure myself," Myra verbalized her doubts.
"No you won't. If you do as I instructed, then you have nothing to worry about," Bane said.
Bane pointed for Barsad to stand behind Myra. Barsad's expression was one of exasperated boredom. He even let his body hang limply as if he were being inconvenienced terribly.
"Put your hand on her shoulder," Bane ordered Barsad with a finger point as if he needed directing.
Myra felt Barsad's hand plop limply on her shoulder.
"Alright, now do as I told you and roll him over your shoulder," Bane told Myra.
Myra eyed Bane skeptically before taking hold of Barsad's limp hand at her shoulder. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and eye Barsad. She mouthed, "I'm sorry!" before she crouched down and forward, using the momentum and weight of her body to yank him down and forward over her onto the ground. He landed with a thud on his back. He stayed lying on the mat motionless, staring up at the ceiling. He certainly wasn't injured, but he definitely had a look that indicated he was questioning his life choices.
Myra got down onto her knees and crawled next to Barsad's head, looking down at his neutral expression.
"I DID IT!" she yelled, not realizing her excitement amplified her voice directly into Barsad's face. He turned his head away at her boisterousness.
"Good job," Barsad mumbled.
Myra pouted half-heartedly, sitting back on her legs to free her hands to cup Barsad's face between them.
"I'm sorry Barsad. I know it must hurt your sensibilities to have someone much smaller and weaker than you toss you around like a peanut," she teased him by lightly patting his bearded cheek.
Barsad simply stared back up at her, his expression lazy and unamused though she knew by now that he looked that way regardless of how he was feeling internally.
"Again," Bane barked, though Myra thought she could detect hints of satisfaction in his voice at her successfully performing the technique on her first try. It was also possible he found her teasing of Barsad amusing.
Myra gave Barsad one more teasing smile before she hoisted herself up. She extended a hand down to Barsad, who initially seemed inclined to decline it, but lifted his arm up and took hold of her hand to help lift himself up.
They performed the exercise several more times before Bane was satisfied with Myra's abilities. Barsad simply stalked away after he was dismissed.
"Thanks Barsad!" Myra shouted after him. He didn't seem to hear or acknowledge that he heard her.
Myra rounded on Bane, bringing up a finger and poking him in the chest playfully. Her mood and feelings were elevated due to the recent successes at performing the exercises with Barsad and the moderately proud look that Bane conveyed to her, making her feel slightly giddy and foolish.
"When do I get to try that on you, huh? Flip you over?" Myra said teasingly.
Bane looked down at the finger that was prodding into his chest before looking back up at her. He snatched her finger into his fist quickly before applying a delicate squeeze. To Myra, though, Bane's 'delicate squeeze' was borderline bone crushing.
"I'd injure you, unfortunately. I doubt you will ever have an attacker my size. If you do, my suggestion to you would be to run," Bane stated matter-of-factly.
Myra squinted at the pressure he applied to her finger, though she tried not to let him see his squeeze was hurting her.
"Are you trying to break my finger?" Myra finally asked while making attempts at reclaiming her finger from his grip.
Bane looked down with a startled expression at her finger he held in his grip.
"That hurts you?" he asked with genuine surprise.
"YES," Myra nearly shouted as she used her body weight to lean away from him. "Look, you are basically holding me up by my finger", she said, as she let her body go limp and curled her knees out from under her to dangle lightly over the mats.
Bane watched her antics as if he wasn't sure what he should do or how he should react. He waited for Myra to put her feet back on the matted floor and stand up before he lessened his grip slightly on her finger.
"How about now?" Bane asked curiously. Myra looked at his hand engulfing her single finger, and noticed it ease just enough to where it wasn't uncomfortable. Her finger even started to feel like it was being encased in warm (but very calloused) pillows.
"Yes, that feels nice. I mean good….fine. That feels fine." Myra looked off to the side awkwardly.
Bane watched her reaction, holding her finger for several more moments so he could internally remember the appropriate amount of pressure to apply before his grip bordered onto 'bone-crushing' as it pertained to Myra. He let go after he felt like he had a proper gauge.
When Bane let go, Myra studied her finger to see if it had been crushed, giving him an accusatory glare. She finished her inspection before dropping her hand to her side.
"We finished earlier than usual. Can we play a game too? We can play Battleship! You haven't played that yet!" Myra exclaimed, trying to make her eyes soften and look pathetic, as if she were the one doing him a favor instead of vice versa.
Bane eyed her, not moved by her theatrics. He crossed his arms over his chest while he continued to stare at her before he let out a reluctant nod.
Myra responded by doing an impromptu dance that looked like a mutated version of the "Moonwalk" and "The Robot" combined. Bane's eyes shot up in surprise, clearly not prepared for this level of enthusiasm particularly over something as trivial as playing a simple board game with him.
Myra scooted her way in a terrible, terrible version of the "Moonwalk" towards the path that led back to her room with the cot and pedestal sink. Bane just walked a safe distance behind her, not wanting to fall victim to whatever disease seemed to take hold of Myra's body.
And like most everything else Bane did that involved a moderate amount of tactical knowledge, he destroyed her.
"Beginner's luck," Myra goaded, as if trying to convince herself that Bane had 'some' type of weakness beyond him winning against her at games that required even a small amount of tactical consideration.
Bane decided to play her again, and then again after that, easily beating her each time. Myra decided to add "Battleship" to her blacklist.
She wasn't particularly upset over the repeated beatings, however, because Bane stayed and played with her far longer than she had anticipated or hoped for.
After another week, Bane decided it was time to test out her skills. He recruited one of his men named Yair to be her sparring partner and to test whether she could adequately defend herself. Due to the established comradier and respect that Barsad and Myra had established, he opted to not recruit him for this particular test. Myra was not a fan, however, of Bane's method of determining whether any of the skills he taught her sunk in.
"You may do as you wish with her," Bane said to Yair before turning to Myra, still speaking to Yair but looking directly at her. "She has the tools and skills to defend herself if she is thinking properly", Bane said, hinting at consequences if she wasn't successful.
Myra and Yair looked at each other incredulously, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. Her expression is one of tight-lipped disbelief, his expression matching hers until his eyelids drop and his lips slip into a sleezy upturn at the corners and he even has the audacity of giving her a full up and down look-over with his eyes, causing her eyebrows to further raise up before plunging down into a furrow in annoyance, disgust, and with a slight dash of fear.
"You're joking," Myra spat out incredulously.
"You'll be sorely mistaken if that is your belief," Bane said this casually, turning his back on the pair while absentmindedly tying knots with a parachute cord. She didn't fail to notice the casual innuendo in his voice concerning the word 'sorely'. Her mind began to race. Maybe he did kill those would-be rapers simply because they disobeyed his orders, and he could give two-shits about someone raping me?
Before Myra could react, Yair was on her. She let out a gasp as she was knocked onto her back, hitting the foam-matted floor and feeling the wind knocked out of her. She clenched her teeth after regaining focus, bringing her hands up to push against Yair's chest in an attempt to push him off. She was extremely disconcerted that every ounce of energy and strength she used barely seemed to phase or budge his body off of her. She periodically clenched her fists together to punch at him, but this seemed to only amuse him. His knee was between her thighs, forcing them apart even wider as his hand found its way to her waistband, his fingers starting to snake and force themselves under the hem of her pants, eventually sandwiching themselves between her skin and the hem of her underwear. His other arm was bent, with his forearm pressed against her collarbone, using the weight of his upper body to keep her pinned down.
Myra's legs began to thrash wildly when she felt his fingers make contact with the skin on her stomach and start to slide further south under her underwear. Moisture budded at the corner of her eyes as she gritted at him with pure venomous rage and desperation. She began to huff wildly, exhaustion catching up with her but the sense of desperation and self-preservation keeping her animated, forcing her limbs past their limit resulting in them to tingle from the exertion. She watched as Yair's lips upturned into that slimy, greasy, lazy disgusting smile, his eyelids half lowered as he watched her reaction while his fingers began to inch down between her legs.
Yair's fingers never made it to their destination, however, as his body and subsequently his hand was bodily removed from her by two much larger hands gripping the fabric at his back, pulling him off. "Alright, playtime is over", Bane said as if in jest as he tossed the man like a sack of potatoes a good 5 feet to the side, but Bane was clearly not amused. Myra stayed on her back staring up at Bane, exhaustion still consuming her and making her numb but she clearly noticed Bane's displeasure was aimed directly down at her for her complete failure and incompetence regarding her own protection. Before she could react further, he bent down to grab the scruff of her shirt, hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing, keeping her lifted up off of the ground as he strode back towards the wall stopping only when her back made contact with the cement, finally letting her down onto her feet, keeping his fists clenched into the fabric of her scruff.
Myra's eyes flickered upward towards his, seeing the sheer annoyance in the look he was giving her, his mask emitting forced muffled grunts which only highlighted his displeasure. Her heart sank at his displeasure. She had never seen him this upset or dissatisfied with her during her time as a hostage. She turned her head to the side, averting her gaze, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bane let go of the scruff of her shirt, instead moving his arms to cage her head by resting a palm on either side of her head in a not-so-subtle attempt at intimidation. Myra didn't respond to these simple acts of intimidation by shrinking or cringing away, however. Instead, her mind was focused on her own failures and the disappointment she saw had seen in Bane's eyes when they looked at her. Blood drained from her face as she processed this, her mind replaying the events that lead to her mistakes to defend herself and subsequently Bane's displeasure.
Bane stared down at her for several seconds, analyzing her expression, composure, and lack of physical reaction towards his attempts at intimidating her. Bane was a master of intimidation. He knew what he needed to do to cause the hair of someone's neck to crawl, what look he needed to give someone to make them wet themselves. When Myra didn't react to the physical presence of his arms on either side of her head by shrinking of shying away, it at first confused him. He soon came to realize, however, that her paled complexion and strained severe expression wasn't because she feared him physically; she feared something else. He searched her expression several more moments as if looking for an answer written on her face before he came to the realization that what she feared was not his fist, but rather, his disappointment. He tested this theory by dropping one hand to her shoulder. Myra continued to gaze to the side to avoid Bane's eyes, shame apparent on her face. She also failed to react to the new physical presence of his hand on her shoulder. It might as well have been a leaf that landed on her shoulder.
Bane lifted his brows upon this realization, searching her expression several moments before allowing his eyes shift to a look of satisfaction. His eyes softened, the skin crinkling at the corner of his eyes indicating a hidden smile behind the mask. He removed his hand from her shoulder to bring his arms up to curl his fists around the upper straps of his vest casually, taking a step back to lean back and appraise her, his chest puffing out as he relaxed his stance.
Bane was used to his soldiers performing tasks to the best of their abilities because they feared punishment and death; very rarely is he met with an individual that fears his disappointment more than his fist. The only other individual that has shared this sentiment was Barsad, his second in command. This was one of the very reasons why Bane trusted Barsad with his life.
"We'll finish this later," Bane said finally, his voice illustrating a sense of ease as he turned his head to dismiss Yair who was giving Myra a look like he wasn't done with his half-eaten meal quite yet. Yair sauntered off after his dismissal, but not before looking over his shoulder and giving Myra one last look-over. Myra let her eyes shift towards Bane, feeling awkward and confused by his sudden change in composure but let relief take hold as she let out a tired suppressed sigh as her body slumped and slid partially down the wall. He turned back towards her, disregarding her state of fatigue.
"Let's get some food. What would you like to eat?"
Myra lifted her brows, letting the look of shock plaster her face as she made eye contact with him. Bane was actually asking herwhat shewanted to eat? As if there were options? Was he teasing her? Had there been options before? Were they eating the same thing almost every day because they assumed she liked it? When she simply stared at him, not favoring him with a reply, he turned his body towards her. "It's impolite to stare. It's even more impolite not to respond when spoken to." Myra let the shock on her face settle before finally letting her mind race and search for the first thing she may be craving but has been otherwise unable to eat due to her current predicament.
"Pizza," she blurted out. "Cheese pizza."
Bane regarded her briefly before nodding, letting his eyes search and settle onto hers. Myra half expected him to say something like, "That would be nice, wouldn't it? Too bad that's not what we're having", or something demoralizing simply to tease her. Instead he continued to nod before finally turning towards the door to exit and make food arrangements.
"Pizza it is."
Myra devoured her pizza. 'Inhaled' might be a more apt description of it, to be honest. She disregarded table manners as she took each slice like it was about to disappear out of her hand at a moment's notice unless she consumed it as quickly as possible. Bane, of course, didn't eat in front of her but still sat at the table she was occupying, appraising her appetite and ability to consume an entire pizza.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Myra asked finally as she made it halfway through the consumption of her own pizza. Bane was seated in his chair idly, simply watching the whole ordeal with amusement.
"I will later," he replied simply, gazing at her as if he were watching a zoo animal.
Myra was already chomping on the next slice but let her eyes lift up over the slice of pizza to look at him, letting her eyes settle on his mask knowing there must be some level of difficulty eating with the mask in place. She wasn't sure if he preferred privacy during that time either, but her hunch was confirmed when he simply sat there and watched while she ate the pizza and his pizza sat covered in the pizza box untouched.
Bane decided to abandon the use of a 'volunteer' to establish Myra's proficiency level regarding her self-defense, realizing she still wasn't ready and that he was partly to blame for misjudging her readiness. It wasn't that she hadn't been listening; on the contrary, she usually soaked up his knowledge, and when working with Barsad, did as she was instructed perfectly well. However, when put in a situation that required quick thinking, and equally quick reaction time, she had her failings. Bane decided to focus on those aspects, starting with reaction time. He decided to employ methods that also weren't as sinister as the ones he used the day prior.
Bane stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Today we will focus on your reaction time. Yesterday proved that you need considerable improvement."
Bane eyed her for a brief moment to highlight his point. Myra just looked off to the side bashfully.
"Reaction time isn't inherent. It can be taught and built upon. Now, try and stop me."
Myra was about to ask what he meant by "Try and stop me" when she felt a slap on the side of her head. It wasn't aggressive, and it didn't hurt, but by god it was annoying. She narrowed her eyes at him, ready to unleash some verbal venom when she felt another 'slap' on the side of her arm that felt like a giant solid pancake whipping against her skin.
"STOP," she said, clearly annoyed. She brought her hands up in front of her chest to ready herself to deflect another incoming slap. She waited for several seconds in anticipation before she felt another slap on the opposite side of her head. She barely even saw him move. She decided to retaliate by bringing her hand forward to slap him on the arm. Her hand never made contact with his skin, however, for he snatched her hand out of the air effortlessly. He held onto her hand while his other hand was used to smack her on the side of the shoulder and subsequently the head again.
Myra began writhing in his grip, moving her body as far away from his free hand as she could, eyeing it like it was a snake ready to strike. She used her other hand to try and pry her hand out of his. As she did this, she felt two more slaps make contact with the top of her head and the side of her hip.
"How am I supposed to stop you if you won't let me go? What are you expecting me to do, kick you in the groin?" she breathed angrily.
Bane found this incredibly humorous.
"You still have use of your other hand. I can only reach so far," he pointed out.
Myra made a valiant effort to deflect several more of his light smacks, even almost successfully deflecting one though in all honestly it was an accident. Bane saw she was getting frustrated, however, at being paired up with someone with a much higher reaction time than she had. He decided to transition the lesson slightly, again maintaining a less serious undertone than the one he used the day before but still maintaining the same principles.
Bane finally let go of her hand, moving around and behind her. He moved his hands to take hold of her elbows, elevating them slightly and positioning her forearms as if to imprison her head between her forearms.
"If someone is hitting you in the head, protect it. Ignore other blows to your body; it can protect itself just fine," Bane said, as he moved back around to stand in front of her.
Myra eyed him with her arms raised up lightly caging and protecting her head. She felt another smack on the side of her hip. She impulsively moved one of her arms down as if to block the hit with a considerable delay, but Bane quickly corrected her by grabbing her arm roughly and putting it back next to her head.
"Don't move your arms. Ignore everything else happening to your body. Focus on your head only. This will help you focus your energy and react appropriately," he said sternly.
He smacked her on the side of her shoulder. Myra felt herself reflectively want to move her arms down from around her head but kept herself from doing so. She felt another smack try and make its way against her head, but her arms successfully blocked it. She felt a few more smacks on her hip and her shoulder, and then on the other side of her head.
"Are you trying to tenderize me?" Myra quipped, her arms dropping slightly.
"I'm barely touching you. I'm surprised you can even feel anything," Bane retorted, eying her for her sass. "What did I say about keeping your arms up?" Bane barked.
Myra immediately lifted her arms back up to protect the side of her head with an annoyed sigh, waiting for another barrage of annoying smacks. Her arms were starting to get exhausted.
Instead of smacking her again, which she was anticipating, Bane decided to test her ability and sincerity at keeping her arms up. He dropped a hand to her hip, squeezing it lightly before moving it up along her side. Myra was eyeing his behavior with the utmost suspicion, her eyes following his hand as it moved up from her hip to her side. As his hand made its way upwards, it began to tickle her ferociously.
Now, it took a lot to genuinely phase and surprise Myra. Being lightly tickled at her side by Bane's one hand was one thing that genuinely surprised her. She knew he had the capability of joking and that he even possessed a mild sense of humor, but it rarely extended into his physical being and actions he performed. If it could even be remotely categorized as being 'silly', she discounted it as something that she would ever see Bane doing. She immediately doubled over, her body arching away from the hand that was 'attacking' her.
"NO. TICKLING. STOP. I HATE IT," Myra shouted between forced laughs, feeling ridiculous and caught by surprise. Myra had her boundaries, and tickling was one of them. She loathed being tickled. Bane picked up on the sincerity and loathing in her voice, snatching it up.
"You detest being tickled? That's interesting," Bane said, amusement thick in his voice. Myra immediately detected that Bane intended to use that to his advantage to drill into her whatever lesson or instruction he was trying to instill in her. Myra turned as if to scuttle away like an uneven drunk from Bane, moving her arms in an attempt to cover her sides.
"What did I say about moving your arms from your head?" Bane said as he snatched her by the arm before she made a getaway, seriousness thick in his voice, reminding Myra that although she might categorize this activity as 'silly', it had a logical purpose for Bane and therefore should be regarded as such.
Myra growled at him. A genuine growl. "You're just going to tickle me again!"
Bane nodded as if it were obvious. "Of course I will," he said.
Myra made another attempt at fleeing, but to little avail. He eased her gently in front of him as if to reason with her, using the hold he had on her arm to guide her.
"If you can keep your hands covering your head for 30 seconds, then we can be done for today and go play whatever board game you wish," Bane compromised. "Tickling is a common torture technique. 30 seconds is a good starting point."
Myra eyed him suspiciously as if he were trying to trick and fool her by making things up. She worked it out in her mind, trying to gather the mental fortitude to withstand 30 seconds of tickling. She wasn't sure she could do it. She wasn't even sure it was humanly possible.
"That's not fair. People like you who aren't ticklish have a huge advantage," Myra complained.
"Who said I wasn't ticklish?" Bane said with surprise.
Myra eyed him, trying to picture him doubled-over laughing from being tickled. She was having a hard time imagining it. Bane sensed her skepticism. "I have self-control; something you appear to be severely lacking", Bane said, his voice thick with amusement and condescension.
Myra continued to eye him skeptically.
"Do your worst," Bane offered, inviting her to see if he would budge form being tickled.
Myra inched forward hesitantly as if he were going to rescind his offer at a moment's notice. She brought her hands out to his sides, letting them hover over his sides for several seconds as she looked up at him for one last confirmation that it was okay to try and 'torture' him. He simply nodded expectantly at her. She deployed the same technique he used by letting her fingers feather along his sides. She was at least expecting some sort of flinching or twitching, but she received no indicator from Bane that her fingers were affecting him at all. He simply looked down at Myra curiously. This emboldened Myra, who felt like she, too, should and could display the same level of discipline that he was demonstrating.
"Fine. I want it PROPERLY TIMED, though. Get a timer," Myra demanded.
Bane pulled out a phone and set the timer to 30 seconds. He elevated his thumb over the 'start' button, his eyes on her, waiting for her to give the signal. Myra lifted her arms up to protect her head, adjusting her stance as if she were about to face a tornado coming her way.
Bane pressed the button, putting it on the ground quickly before advancing on her. He used both of his hands this time, letting his fingers do a crab-like fluttering walk up and down her sides. Myra immediately doubled over with laughter mixed with the uncomfortableness of being tickled, though she didn't move her arms from her head. She tried being sneaky by curling her body into a fetal position, dropping and rolling onto the ground in an attempt to bodily prevent Bane from accessing her sides.
Bane, however, simply dropped to one knee and rolled her body like dough towards him, continuing his half-hearted assault against her sides with unrelenting tickles.
The timer eventually went off, but Bane didn't ease his tickling immediately. Myra began to scream bloody murder, knowing the timer went off and that she had done what was asked of her. Bane raised his arms away from her after she started screaming, though the crinkling at the corner of his eyes indicated he was extremely amused. He got up from his kneeled position and simply stared down at her being melodramatic before offering her a hand to help her get up.
Myra ignored his extended hand as she got up herself, letting out a huge tired and relieved sigh. She felt her heart pounding from the exertion. She saw Barsad had appeared near the entrance to the sparring arena. She realized embarrassingly that he must have responded to her screaming. She ambled towards him sluggishly, wiping off dirt that found its way on her clothes as she was rolling on the ground.
"He's a monster," Myra said with mock severity as she passed Barsad, loudly enough so that she knew Bane could hear it.
Barsad's eyes snapped to Bane in concern, not sure what transpired except that there was screaming, and that Myra apparently ended up on the ground. Bane simply rolled his eyes at her dramatic statement.
The following day, Myra finally witnessed Bane without his mask. She had gotten into a routine of sleeping in the room during the day because it provided access to a much more comfortable cot over sleeping on the much harder concrete floor of the utility room. Bane became familiar with this routine and used this time to enter the room quietly and perform basic hygienic functions assuming she was asleep and that he no longer had to wait until the evenings to perform these tasks.
When Bane entered her room quietly and let his eyes wander to the cot, he saw that she appeared to be sleeping, so he proceeded inside. She wasn't quite asleep, however, and had only been on the cusp of sleep with her eyes closed. His arrival, however, eventually piqued her interest particularly when she heard shuffling and the sound of hardware being unbuckled and unfastened. She opened only one eye, just barely, moving until it located him in front of the pedestal sink and mirror. She saw his reflection in the dirty mirror for a moment before he dislodged his mask from his face.
Myra had honestly not contemplated extensively about what he may look like behind the mask, knowing he had an injury that required the use of it so there must be some level of disfigurement behind it. What she saw in the reflection of the mirror as he looked down to settle the mask on the sink before looking up into the mirror to scrub water and soap on his face before brushing his teeth was a huge scar that traveled from his upper cheek across his nose. His nose had obviously been numerous times, a huge groove seemingly cutting the bridge of his nose in half which was where the scar traveled through as if a river in a deep ravine. He had other superficial scars along his face, but the feature that struck her as the most striking were his lips. They were considerably fuller than she had anticipated, and perfectly unblemished. She immediately thought of ripe peaches. She even had to stop herself from swallowing, willing herself not to wonder whether they tasted as good as they looked. She cringed inwardly at thinking something so ridiculous…yet so true.
Myra watched him as he cleaned his face and brushed his teeth in a hurry, assuming he could only go for a limited amount of time without the mask. When he was finished, he put the mask back in place. Myra quickly closed her eye as he turned around to exit the room, not wanting him to discover her eyeballing him. After he exited the room, she couldn't help but contemplate the images of him washing his face and brushing his teeth without his mask; almost as if he were normal. She also decided, almost embarrassingly, that she found his facial imperfections, the scars that coated his face, and particularly his lips absolutely handsome, borderline gorgeous,in a rough-and-tumble kind of way. She wasn't anticipating associating Bane with handsome. She continued to wonder if his lips tasted as good as they looked.
Bane was no fool, however. He saw the strain in the skin covering her eyes hinting at her making a quick show of closing them before he passed her to exit the room.
The next day during a new round of self-defense training, Myra felt herself reacting to the aftermath of seeing him without his mask on. It left her feeling like a school-girl with an unbelievable crush. She knew it was moderately superficial to suddenly appear as if she discovered she had feelings for him after seeing something as simple as his face without appearing to consider his full mind and body. However, she knew she felt feelings for him had started to bubble in the pit of her stomach after he saved her from the men who tried to rape her in her room. In addition, after he started opening up to her and she spent more time with him, she became to realize how truly brilliant and intelligent he was. He was witty and charming when he wanted to be. The range of emotion he was able to express with his eyes alone was alluring. And his eyes… It was maddening to know that someone was capable of being so physically superior and magnificent while also possessing a genius-like intellect.
Seeing his unmasked, vulnerable face, however, felt like she was shoved off of the ledge of the pit that held these boxed feelings, falling face-first into them. If she had known she would react this strongly to seeing him, she probably would have kept her eyes shut when she saw him taking his mask off. She had half been anticipating, almost hoping, that what was hidden behind the mask was proof and validation of the horrors that he committed and thus convincing her that he was a monster who didn't deserve her feelings. Instead what she saw was a man who had been physically marred to the point of needing assistance and medication from the mask, not seeming to care about either his scarring or his handicap. And his lips. Her face started to turn red again, imagining those unexpectedly perfect lips on an otherwise imperfect face.
Myra felt herself being awkward. She simply couldn't help it. She felt like she was thrust into the presence of a high-school crush who only regarded her as wallpaper. She even had the misfortune of blushing further, her entire face now fully blanketed in tomato red when Bane moved up behind her and settled both of his hands on her waist to guide her into a specific stance.
"Are you listening?"
Myra's eyes snapped up as if caught red handed, or in this instance – tomato faced, nodding furiously to indicate that she had been listening. Of course, she hadn't been. She couldn't stop thinking about his lips.
Bane narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, letting out an irritated grunt.
"Then what did I say?" he asked, challenging her for an answer.
Myra stared straight forward, her hands clenching into a fist, not wanting to admit to him that she hadn't been listening.
"…to stay on my lips? I MEAN TOES! To stay on my toes!" Myra stammered out. Idiot.
Bane didn't respond right away, which thoroughly unsettled Myra since he was directly behind her and holding her at the waist, Myra not ignoring the disadvantaged position she was in.
Ignoring Bane's instruction was behavior that was uncharacteristic of Myra, who had been an apt pupil up to this point. Sure, she had her failings physically, but she never failed to listen to his instruction.
Bane waited a few more moments before using the grip he had on her waist to spin her around to face him suddenly, looking down at her beat red face.
"Why is your face red? Are you ill?" Bane questioned.
Myra only stared back at him; her eyes as large as saucers.
"Yes," she managed to spit out quickly, snatching up the opportunity for a less humiliating excuse.
Bane stared down at her, searching her face and her complexion. He gave a gentle snort audible through his mask before releasing the grip he had on her waist, stepping away from her and raising a hand flippantly to dismiss her.
"Very well. We'll continue this tomorrow when you are no longer ill," Bane said with condescension.
Myra allowed herself to release a breath, feeling as if she had been holding it for minutes. The tone he used when saying 'ill' was not missed by Myra, who started to wonder if he suspected what may have caused her enflamed complexion. That notion, of course, brought a new spread of red across her face as she turned away quickly to exit to her room.
The next day, they met again for their regular self-defense practice. Bane looked her over and didn't see any remnants of her 'illness' from yesterday, so decided to proceed. However, Bane took pleasure in testing people, having his suspicions of what her condition from the day before was. When he stood in front of her and placed his hands on her hips to angle them correctly over her feet in a proper stance, the redness in her face came back. Bane saw it immediately, almost as if he were waiting for it and ready to pounce.
"What is this?" he said almost teasingly.
Myra played dumb.
"What is what?" she asked innocently.
Bane humored her by allowing her to play dumb but brought a hand up to quickly swipe a thumb across her cheeks as if he were trying to swipe up tangible evidence.
"This redness," he replied.
Myra continued with her act.
"I must be ill again," she said.
Bane let his hand fall back down to settle on her hip; his eyebrows rose as he tilted his chin back just slightly to gaze down at her from over the mouthpiece of his mask.
"No….I don't think that's it," he said provokingly.
Myra seemed to let her eyes wander around the room, settling on anything and everything but Bane who stood in front of her and took up most of her field of vision. Bane grew tired of her aimless eye wandering, bringing his hand back up to snatch her chin, aiming her head to face him.
"Look at me," he ordered.
Myra let her eyes wander for several more moments, knowing she was testing his limits by doing so but didn't care, before she finally let her eyes settle on his almost lazily.
Bane looked down at her as if he were analyzing her for a secret plague, turning her chin to the left and the right before angling it back to face him.
"Curious," was his only reply.
Myra's eyes widened at his comment, the look on his face as if he had spotted some sort of cancer or alien creature on her face. Fear swelled in her chest.
"What is?" she asked hurriedly.
Bane finished his exam with one last sweep of his eyes over her face before replying.
"I do believe you are blushing," he said teasingly.
Myra almost lost it, her eyebrows furrowing and anger flashing in her eyes, bringing her hands up finally to push herself off his chest and propel away from him, despising the way he was teasing her.
"Stop it!" she shouted.
She even managed to make it several steps away from him before she felt a hand reach out and grab hers, stopping her in her tracks before feeling a soft tug that forced her closer to face him. Bane let his other hand resettle on her hip, the hand that held her hand firm and not letting go. He looked down at her, noting her angered expression, which of course only amused him.
"Now now, no need to be angry," he said teasingly, amusingly.
Being told 'not to be angry' was of course, something that made Myra angry. She tried tugging her hand from his grip, and when her hand broke free it was immediately captured again by his as if he were toying with her like a cat toyed with a mouse. The redness in her face was amplified by the sudden flush of anger she was feeling.
"Ahh, your face appears to be getting even redder!" he barked with amusement.
Complete embarrassment overtook her senses, which of course made her irrational. Tears started swelling at the corner of her eyes as she scowled at him, pausing just briefly with her attempts at disengaging with his hand to gather strength before going at it again with renewed vigor.
"Let go of me!" she demanded.
Bane eased his teasing when he saw that he may have pushed her a bit too far beyond her comfort, the creases at the corners of his eyes indicating a smile or a laugh behind the mask quickly dissolving as he regarded her mood, wanting her to understand he was now being serious. His voice dropped into a tone that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and goosebumps populated her skin.
"No, I don't think I will," he crooned.
Myra froze from his declaration for a moment before attempting to lean away from him instead as if the tension she generated might snap them apart if she leaned far enough away from him. His hold on her hand was reinforced, bending his arm to bring her even closer to him as he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, letting the tip of his thumb nestle at the corner of her eye to capture the moisture that had settled there.
"Shh…I'm done teasing," he said soothingly.
Myra finally allowed herself to relax by the unexpected and soothing touch of Bane that seemed so natural and unnatural at the same time. It was a paradox. She felt herself being lulled into submission as the hold on her hand softened, several of his fingers gingerly intertwining with hers. She was shocked by the unexpected gentleness and delicate gesture that she would had assumed he was incapable of based on who he was and what he represented. She started wondering whether the feelings she was experiencing were even rationale. He's a mercenary….he's killed people. The rationale part of her brain was overcome by the irrational sensory side of herself, disregarding these thoughts and only craving more of his attention and his touch. She leaned forward like a moth attracted to a flame.
The hand on her cheek, after completing the task of clearing the moisture from her eye, moved to the back of her head to intertwine his fingers into her hair and gently worked her scalp. Myra's eyes fluttered to the grill of his mask, her lids half blanketing her eyes from the sensations he was instilling into her. She stared at it, transfixed by both the mechanical nature of it, but also by the potential that lay just behind it as she imagined the lips that were covered by it, mere inches away from her own. It confused her to recall initially seeing it weeks ago and finding it repulsive; frightening even, but now…Myra lost her train of thought as she eventually closed her eyes at the sensual touch of his hand on the back of her head, his fingers finding all of the right nerve endings along her scalp to cause her skin to tingle and celebrate at being stimulated. She reflexively brought her free hand up to his chest, clutching the top of it near the base of his neck, letting her fingers graze his exposed skin and wondering what she did to deserve being showered with this kind of unexpected affection.
The moment was short-lived, however. Her eyes snapped open as she heard footsteps and felt the vibration of boots on matted floor as someone entered the sparring area, anxiety taking over her.
"Sir, something you should look at," Barsad said as he entered the room with a folder in his hand, eyeing both of them where they stood but seemed unphased by what he saw.
Myra was already in the throes of ferociously trying to disengage with Bane before someone had a chance to visually capture their encounter. Bane, however, appeared as if he could care less who saw him engaging in a public display of affection. Bane's hold on her hand had tightened reflexively when he sensed she was about to take flight, her head already maneuvered out and under from the hand that was interwoven in her hair, leaving a big patch of tangled mess at the back of her head. Bane didn't immediately acknowledge Barsad, but instead was still focused on Myra and her feverish attempts at removing herself from the situation. He finally released his hold on her hand after seeing her struggle for several moments. His release of her hand was so abrupt that it almost caused her to stumble and fall on her bottom. She did lurch clumsily but righted herself almost immediately before stalking off past Barsad, avoiding his eyes.
"Report," Bane barked, as his eyes followed Myra as she exited the room in a hurry, knowing she was retreating back to the comfort of her cot.
Author: Don't forget to let me know what you think :D