Chapter 8
Author: You guys, I really have to say; I love this unified hatred for Talia in the review comments. It really brings me a lot of happiness and joy, like we are unified as 'one'. It's pretty amazing. I'm pretty sure that's the message and feeling John Lennon was trying to convey when he wrote the song "Imagine".
I also want to thank crzychigurl343, Jettsetter17, Siennax3, shalmarrose, and AllLiesEnd for reviewing (and 'Guest' reviewer; you rock too. I wish I knew who you were ) Your reviews are incredibly appreciated and help motivate me to keep writing this story! Please don't stop!
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.
After Myra heard the door click upon Bane and Talia's exit, she turned around to stare at the wall on the other side of the room. She stood that way for several minutes as the events that unfolded in front of her replayed in her head. The safety, comfort, and assurance she had felt up to that moment had been severely compromised and it made her nauseous. She wanted to vomit. It made her question herself, her actions, her life choices. The feeling of 'home' slowly crumbling around her. She got the very real impression of being an imposter, deemed inadequate. She felt herself spiraling; she hadn't felt herself spiraling this way since… Don't think about it. You're stronger than this.
She decided to get up and go process somewhere else, not sure how long Bane was going to be gone, with 'her'. She didn't want to think about what it was he may be doing with Talia privately, and how long that would take. She wasn't sure she wanted to look at him in her present state of mind either. She wasn't even sure she wanted to look at him after she eventually leveled out. Especially after she now ultimately felt like she was a figurative 'side dish'; an afterthought. A bright star suddenly finding itself definitely not alone in a vast night sky of bigger, brighter, more beautiful stars.
Myra put on a different set of clothes - feeling mildly motivated after the polished look that Talia had presented herself in - and exited the master suite. She didn't bother with putting shoes or socks on, preferring to walk around in silence on her bare feet. She finally made her way to the elevator, pushing the 'down' button and stepping back as she waited for the elevator doors to open.
Once she heard the 'bing' and the doors fling open, she stepped inside tentatively, turning around and pressing the basement level of the elevator where John Daggett had kept his armada of luxury vehicles. She went down approximately 20 levels before the doors to the elevator opened again. She peered out to see if anyone else was loitering the basement garage level before she stepped out and pattered onto the cement garage floor on her bare fleet past several luxury vehicles.
She didn't have any car keys with her, so the prospect of taking one of them and zooming out of here wasn't an option, despite Myra potentially very much wanting nothing more than to do just that. She went up to several cars, checking the doors for an unlocked vehicle, not finding one. However, after approaching a 5th vehicle, it unlatched and opened for her. She opened it wide and slid into the comfortable luxury leather seat. She closed the driver side door after snaking her bare feet into the car.
Myra didn't have any plan beyond just sitting and thinking in a quiet place where no one frequented or would potentially bother her. Especially 'her'. Due to the current nature and occupation of the city, zooming around in a luxury vehicle was also probably not the smartest move considering the vitriol directed towards the wealthy upper class and their extravagance, so she knew no one would come down with car keys and try and take one of the vehicles out of the garage. Meaning she had the garage to herself.
Her first thoughts while sitting alone in the car were simply about her choices. Should I just get up and slip out of the building without a word? Would Bane care? Would he send someone after me? Would he come after me? Why would he even bother. That sounds like a waste of time on his part. He's so busy now anyway, he probably wouldn't notice for a few days. If at all. I might even be doing him a favor, so he doesn't have to deal with forcing me out on his own, especially if he found out I'm not receptive to his stance on relationships. Or….he would come after me. To kill me. I obviously know too much. I doubt very much I was supposed to get a good look at Talia. She would probably order him to go after me, just to kill me.
She then thought about what would happen if she just sucked it up and stayed. Nothing. Nothing would happen. Except my feeling of worth would be completely shattered. That's not a big deal…right? Am I 'okay' with sharing him? Talia clearly seemed okay with it. She even thought it was amusing, as if Bane was trying out a bold-patterned jacket just briefly to see how he'd like it instead of his usual monochromatic choices.
She sat there for what must have been hours before she finally heard the elevator 'ding' indicating someone else entered the parking garage level. She didn't turn to look who it was, keeping her head down to stare at the steering wheel as she sensed a shadow consume her through the driver's side window.
She heard a hand loudly slap on the roof of the vehicle as her driver side door slowly opened.
"Going for a joy ride?" Bane asked with strained humor as he bent down to peer at her inside the low-riding vehicle. Myra could tell he was actively holding back a moderate level of annoyance directed towards her, possibly due to a lengthy search he had to conduct in order to find her within the penthouse building. Possibly even systematically going through each floor into each room in an attempt to locate her.
Myra didn't respond but just kept her attention focused on the steering wheel. When Bane sensed she had no intention of acknowledging, speaking, or replying to him, he straightened his back to stand as he looked around the garage briefly before peering back down at her.
"Get out of the vehicle," he ordered firmly, irritation slowly seeping into his words as impatience rose in his chest.
Myra pursed her lips, bringing her hands up to grip the steering wheel as if she meant to use it to anchor herself inside the car.
"No," she responded brazenly, twisting the leather steering wheel in her hands, causing the leather to screech from the strain.
Bane rested a hand on top of the roof of the car as he bent down to peer back inside the vehicle, his mask inches from her face.
"I won't repeat myself," he said sternly, almost in a whisper, anger now rising in his chest.
Myra made an effort to ignore him as he peered at her.
"Then don't," she replied sassily, matching his anger as her grip tightened further around the steering wheel.
Without another word, Bane reached in and grabbed her by the arm to bodily remove her from the car. She held onto the steering wheel with all of her strength, and even managed to maintain her seat due to her own vice-like grip, though she knew Bane was holding back his strength to some degree so that he didn't injure her severely while she maintained her hold on the steering wheel for dear life.
Bane straightened himself again to look down at her after releasing his hold on her arm, anger and frustration in his eyes as he took her in. He brought a hand up to rub his eyes with pinched fingers, pausing several moments before he reached back into the car and grabbed the steering wheel, planting his feet firmly on the cement ground before giving one aggressive tug to yank it clean off the steering wheel column.
Myra had maintained her hold on the steering wheel, her eyes large as she saw him rip it off the steering wheel column in front of her. How…? Before she had time to react, he reached back down and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of the car with one swift motion. Without the steering wheel to anchor her down, there was no impedance in his action. She continued to maintain her hold on the steering wheel uselessly, however. She dropped it to the ground once Bane had fully pulled her from the vehicle.
He dragged her to the elevator without saying another word, the grip around her upper arm none-too-gentle as he pressed the 'up' button. They waited awkwardly, tension as thick as fog between them as they chose not to speak to each other as the elevator made its way back down to 'ding' and open up for them to allow them to enter.
Bane shoved her in first, not releasing the hold he had on her arm as he pressed the top floor of the building. Myra itched her other arm idly with her free hand, trying to appear disinterested and bored with the situation.
They stopped unexpectedly halfway up at a level midway to their destination. The doors opened to reveal several of Bane's men who had apparently also wanted to use the elevator to make it to a higher-level floor. They gave one look at Bane, and then Myra, and then back to Bane before they took a step back, clearly indicating they would be more comfortable taking the next elevator. Their decision may also have been motivated by a murderous glare from Bane and the unpleasant looking hold he maintained on Myra's arm.
When they finally made it to the top level, Bane escorted her back to their room, closing and locking the door behind him with an ominous 'click', finally releasing his hold on her with a shove that propelled her several steps away from him. Myra turned around and eyed him, sensing some sort of confrontation about to happen, taking several large steps to further back away as she rubbed the sore spot where he had held her arm.
When Bane finally turned to look at her with heat and anger very clearly shown in his eyes, she returned his gaze with equal fire and emotion.
And like a switch that was turned on, she started crying.
Bane was so startled and shocked at the sudden shift in mood displayed by Myra, he stood rigid and still for several moments, not quite sure how to respond; he was very clearly mentally prepared for either a verbal or even a physical confrontation. Not this.
Myra moved to cover her face with her hands, turning her body away from him to grieve without some semblance of shame, knowing someone was looking at her – judging her - as she cried.
Keeping her face covered, she walked a straight line toward a corner of the room with the intent of making herself small, unnoticeable – the way she felt - so she could huddle into it without feeling like she was being watched and scrutinized.
She didn't make it to the corner, however, for she felt herself collide into a solid mass that didn't feel like the surface of a wall. Two hands moved up to steer and hold her shoulders. She immediately tensed, her body going rigid. Bane sensed the shift in her body as soon as she tensed her muscles.
Bane released a huge sigh, guiding her to the edge of the bed where he eased her down slowly to sit. He knelt in front of her, maintaining his hold on her upper arms. He waited patiently for her sobs to dissipate and for the slow removal of her hands over her eyes before he spoke. She kept her red puffy eyes averted to the floor, bringing a hand up to swipe across her cheeks and her nose to clean up the sloppy emotional mess with the back of her bare hand.
"Tell me what is troubling your mind," Bane eased out gently, reaching a hand up to the side of her face to remove a wet salty strand of her hair that had plastered itself over her eye. He pushed the strand of hair back and settled it behind her ear delicately.
Myra kept her eyes angled down, not immediately responding to him. Everything. Everything is troubling my mind. She finally worked herself up enough to issue a reply.
"I want to leave. You told me all I had to do was ask and that you would let me leave," she stated with her eyes slowly lifting to fixate on nothing in particular in the corner of the room. She brought a hand up to rub the side of her arm awkwardly, feeling like she was in an incredibly uncomfortable and awkward situation. She did not have the mental fortitude to fight the situation. Especially not against someone like…her. I'm not even going to try. That's a losing battle. I should just surrender and leave.
She swallowed when her words were finally out of her mouth. She didn't want to see what Bane's expression was, for she didn't feel like it was anything good based on the stillness of his body and the loud amplified sound of his breathing through his mask. She suddenly became very aware of her heart pounding against her chest, almost painfully.
Bane was no fool. He knew Myra's anguish had something to do with a visit from Talia. While he didn't know what may have transpired during the entire visit, he could only imagine what kind of scenarios and assumptions Myra made after the interaction she saw with both the insinuations and insults Talia made about Myra, as well as Talia's physical interactions with himself on full display for her to see.
While Myra may have interpreted what she saw based on 'assumptions', that was what they were; assumptions. Myra had no idea what kind of relationship Bane and Talia shared; that was between Bane and Talia. Bane knew what he had to do and decided to deviate Myra's focus on leaving into properly educating her on the situation before she further spun out of control.
He watched several more moments as tears streaked her cheeks before he brought a hand up to cup her chin and angled it so that she was forced to look at him. Myra inhaled deeply to capture moisture that had gathered in her nose, threatening to drip down to her lip. Her eyes hesitantly lifted to look into his.
"Tell me what seems to be so obviously troubling your mind. After you tell me – and you had better tell me truthfully, for I will know - then I will make sure you are escorted safely out of Gotham, where you may choose to live out your days without ever having to look at or think about me again. Deal?" Bane offered, angling his face to make sure she maintained focus on him, her eyes having a tendency to stray.
Myra looked at him with glazed eyes before slowly nodding. She let out a huge anguished sigh, before delving into her troubles reluctantly.
"Am I…" The other woman. The pet. The distraction. Myra's eyes narrowed as she swallowed, trying to decide the best choice of words to describe what it was she wanted to convey. She didn't think the word existed in any known language. She turned her head away without finishing the sentence.
Bane rose one eyebrow at her questioningly, leaning forward in an attempt to ease the rest of her words out of her mouth, forcing her head back to look at him with the hand he had holding her chin.
"Are you….what?" he asked. He massaged her chin gently with his thumb before coaxing her head to look at him again as her eyes began to wander. Myra did not look comfortable.
"Am I…. …" Myra swallowed. The mistress. The whore. The plaything.
"Go on," Bane encouraged. Myra decided she wasn't going to be able to finish her sentence, so instead decided to change the topic slightly.
"How long have you and Talia….." she eased out, though she started having trouble finishing her sentence too. Been together. Been lovers. Been intimate.
"….been in love," Myra almost choked out.
Bane looked at Myra thoughtfully before replying truthfully.
"I have loved her for many years," he replied simply, matter-of-factly.
Myra turned her head away sharply. He's never told me he's loved me…What am I doing here? What have I allowed myself to become? Someone's beck-and-call girl. I'm no better than a prostitute… except they get paid. I deserved the looks she gave me. I'm not threat to her. I'm a joke.
Myra had felt heartache before, but this was new. It was an awkward feeling. She wasn't even sure if her situation warranted being labeled as betrayal; perhaps Bane simply fully embraced a communal and polyamorous style of living and forgot to mention it to her. They never discussed whether they were 'exclusive'; Myra just…made assumptions. She started to think about what other aspects of his life he was withholding from her.
Myra rose from her seat quickly, forcing Bane's hand away from her chin. Bane moved his hands to hold onto both of her wrists in each of his hands when she stood up, holding her still forcefully.
"What are you doing?" Bane asked with a hint of anger and concern, noting that she looked as if she was at her threshold of tolerance and couldn't go on. She just very clearly wanted to leave.
Myra turned her attention back to the uninteresting corner of the room. Bane looked up and saw the discomfort and pain radiating off of her. He decided to expedite the process. He could clearly see she was not particularly enjoying this experience and was very obviously suffering, potentially even debating jumping out the window based on the way her eyes were flickering towards the paned glass window across the room.
"Are you assuming that Talia and I are lovers?" Bane tried to ask without amusement dripping through his lips.
Myra's eyes started to water again.
Bane knew he shouldn't smile, but he did anyway. And he also thought her assumptions were endearing, even if Myra clearly didn't think so.
"We are not lovers, nor have we ever been. I saved her as a child in prison from an unfortunate fate. We have suffered very similar tribulations in life, which helped spawn the affection and love I feel for her," he said, using his hand to coax Myra back down into a seated position on the bed. He noticed she seemed significantly more compliant after his explanation.
"You were never…intimate?" Myra asked shyly.
Bane pondered. "Well, there was this one instance.."
The look that consumed and distorted Myra's face caused him to backpedal immediately.
"No, we weren't. Due to the nature of our work, its best to maintain a working relationship which can only be achieved without…certain distractions," he confessed, incorporating just a small white lie.
Myra eyed him, knowing he was trying to cover up what he said just to ease her anxiety. The fact that he cared enough to even do that made her feel more at ease, so she relaxed her body.
"I also aided in her escape from the prison. That decision had resulted in some…physical sacrifices on my part," Bane eased out, a deep wheeze emitting from his mask suggestively. He reverted into the realm of hesitancy as if he weren't sure how much he cared to divulge with her.
Myra's eyes shot down to fixate on his mask. She never fully understood what transpired that led to the need of it; he was so strong, so competent, that it boggled her mind that he would have been in any confrontation that resulted in being injured so severely that it would ultimately require it. She knew his mask helped ease the pain from his facial injuries as well as the botched spinal surgery at his back, as evident by the irregular ugly scar running from the base of his neck down his spine. Now she knew. Her 'dislike' for Talia slowly transitioned into hatred at the notion of Bane succumbing to life-altering, permanent injuries on Talia's behalf while Talia gets to strut around like a vixen; unblemished, unmarred from prison life. Despite her newfound hatred for Talia, Myra's eyes softened considerably at this selfless gesture and confession from Bane.
"She also favors the utilization of some of her…female assets when performing certain missions and duties, to gain trust and infiltrate. That knowledge doesn't harbor and encourage a relationship beyond the deep personal affection we share and our working relationship," Bane eased out almost reluctantly, almost as if he were sharing too much information but he knew that this added bit of information about Talia's 'sexual life' would lead Myra into her own conclusions about the type of person Talia was, as well as the type of partner he sought; an exclusive one.
Myra's relaxed further as she felt herself slumping into the bed, feeling as if a huge weight had suddenly been released from her shoulders. She suddenly felt it considerably easier to breath as she inhaled a large breath. Oh. So 'SHE'S' the whore. Got it. How dare she judge 'ME', making me feel like I'm the slut.
Myra wiped her face once more with her bare hand before she turned back to him, clearly other concerns still plaguing her mind. Myra started working her lips together as if trying to figure out the words she wanted to say.
"Am I…pretty?" Myra finally asked hesitantly, shyly, feeling emboldened now that the heartache and pain she had been feeling earlier had ebbed considerably, making her feel lightheaded.
Bane's eyebrows shot up his forehead. He stared at her for several seconds, somewhat confused and surprised by her question before he let his eyebrows drop. Clearly Talia had instilled something into her to make her feel inadequate. Inferior. Ugly. That angered him.
He reached forward and stroked the scar exposed on her forehead from her childhood to the small scar on the side of her jawline she endured from the hostage exchange. He let his thumb graze over her skin delicately as if she were made of porcelain. Her eyes were downcast in thought and in bashfulness, though she let her eyes fleetingly gaze up at his for several moments before dropping them again. Her self-confidence had clearly been shot.
"You aren't 'pretty'; you're beautiful. Why would you ask such a silly question?" Bane implored, rubbing his thumb lightly against the flesh on her chin.
She didn't respond, not seemingly convinced by his words nor was she willing to verbalize the reasons for her even asking the question. Bane knew she must be comparing herself to Talia.
Bane reached forward with his other hand to cup her head between both of his hands, deciding to give her a more genuine answer.
"You're like an amethyst; while you may, on occasion, be confronted with other minerals and stones that surpass your beauty from the exterior…." Bane felt Myra squirm significantly between his hands at being off-handedly insulted, Myra clearly holding the notion that he should think her beauty is insurmountable - especially to 'her'. He stabilized his hold of her head to settle her down and hold her still before he continued.
"…there are none who compare to you when it comes to what you possess on the inside and how you make me feel. Indescribable beauty that permeates your exterior that brings me unspeakable pleasure and happiness. Rivaled by no one." Bane emphasized his point by bringing one of his large fingers to poke her in the chest almost playfully, making attempts at reinvigorating one of his favorite attributes of Myra; her humor.
This seemed to pacify Myra considerably, though she wasn't sure how she felt about being compared to a 'rock'.
"….a rock," Myra mumbled out, though it was clear she wasn't truly displeased.
Bane got up after he saw Myra relax and ease considerably after several minutes of her pondering his words. He gave her one final look-over before he eased himself up from his kneeled position with an exerted grunt. Without another word, he immediately strode towards one of the closets and retrieved a large duffel bag. Without any explanation, he started opening dresser drawers that held her clothing and personal items and started cramming them into the bag. Myra eyed him curiously before rising up to stand next to him to see what he was doing.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, seeing her things being crammed unceremoniously into a bag.
"I'm packing your things. You wanted to leave – we had a deal? I'm expediting your packing process," Bane said politely.
Myra's mouth formed into a disagreeable line with redness speckling her cheeks as she watched him continue with his task. She eventually shot her hand out to stop him from putting all of her things into the bag.
"No…I mean, I suppose I'll stay….." she said in an embarrassed mumble.
Myra's hold on his arm barely deterred him, and he purposefully ignored it.
"You what? Speak up, I couldn't hear you," Bane turned his head to her, taking one more handful of her clothes and cramming it into the bag.
Myra grimaced at him, tugging at his arm with the weight of her body.
"I said I SUPPOSE I'll stay," she said in a louder voice.
Bane turned to look at her again, his eyebrows raising up his forehead.
"You suppose? That seems non-committal. You may change your mind in a few hours. I'll just get this bag ready for you in the likely event you do change your mind," he said matter-of-factly as he continued down the line of dresser drawers, cramming any and all available items into the bag.
Myra stared daggers at him, reaching out and slapping his hands away from her things. She moved in front of him to block him access to the rest of her clothes when those actions didn't seem to deter him.
"I WANT to stay. Stop packing my stuff!" she eyed him, giving him a deeper glare and shoving him away with her hands using the full weight of her body behind the push.
Bane ceased his packing, seemingly satisfied with her declaration. He dropped the duffel bag onto the floor next to the dresser with a thud and gave her a nod.
"Good. Now, next time you plan on making assumptions, I'd prefer it if you gave me ample warning. I'll make sure to have your bags ready and packed for you, and a car waiting," he said cheekily, before turning and exiting the room without further ado, leaving Myra looking shell-shocked, red-faced from embarrassment, and with the unpleasant task of unpacking her clothing and possessions back into the dresser.
The next day Myra discovered a giant, almost obnoxiously-sized amethyst stone placed as a center piece on a glass table that was positioned in front of one of the leather recliners in the corner of the master suite. It was split open to reveal the crystalized purple contents inside. She ambled up to it reluctantly, looking at the beautiful contents that were on full display. Okay fine. I mean, a flower or even a bird would have been nice a nice comparison. But you made your point.
Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 4 Months, 15 days
One thing that was removed from Myra's routine following her move to the penthouse and the subsequent Gotham hostage situation was she no longer was able to make supply runs, so there was a period of time where she had no job that required her to leave the penthouse. This was remedied quickly, however, when Bane reassigned her to do inventory on the supplies that they kept at various checkpoints and storage locations within the city. She was also escorted periodically outside of the city limits through an underground tunnel system that very clearly had been recently made with explosives. She checked one large warehouse that was just outside city limits where this underground tunnel system led out to, which also had a helicopter pad with a helicopter stationed on it in the rare occasion that they needed to go pick up a unique part or resource they didn't already have. She was assigned to this task because he knew she already had intimate knowledge of the supplies that they had picked up considering she was the one who had helped bring in most of the items. It was also a job that still kept her busy without directly involving her in any sort of dangerous or morally compromising situations, supposedly.
Due to the quick shift of the overall environment of the city turning hostile, as well as an influx of Bane's men that were funneled into the city at the last minute before most means of travel into and out of Gotham were removed, Bane assigned Barsad to go with Myra when she made these inventory check runs. She usually did them every other day at various locations of storage. She never saw the same individuals, which surprised her because it made her aware of just how many people were following and supporting Bane.
Unfortunately, due to the nature of the takeover of the city and the boldness of some of these men knowing that they had an upper hand on everyone around them, it fostered a moderate level of aggression and boldness that Myra wasn't comfortable with. Particularly if it meant she would receive undesired advances while she was doing her job. It happened so frequently that she would be simply checking and counting the supplies and one of the men garbed in militaristic clothing would amble up to her, check her out, and say something crude or suggestive. She almost never had a response, and never needed to give one because Barsad was always just over her shoulder looking right at the fool with a look of genuine sympathy before he would dramatically shake his head from left to right as if saying, "Dude, you do not want to go there."
Myra would just stare as the man would slowly amble back away, surprisingly getting the hint perhaps because he knew who Barsad was and the implications of his gesture. She would then return to counting the inventory again, thankful that there were no physical confrontations during these situations.
During one of these situations, however, Myra was to count large cartridges of ammo stacked in at least a dozen wood pallets. When she made it to the location, a sweaty looking man ambled up to her with an air of irritation.
"Who are you?" he barked at Myra, ignoring Barsad at her shoulder.
Myra hadn't ever been asked 'who she was' at that point, the individuals that surrounded the resources always compliant with her counting and checking the inventory. His question caught her off guard. She never had to justify 'who she was'.
'I'm Bane's…" His what? Inventory-checker? 'Girlfriend' (that seems weird), 'lover'? (that sounds like it's extracted from a heated Spanish romance novel and doesn't quite fit our relationship…none of that should matter. I'm just here to count things.
"I'm Bane's," Myra repeated again with confidence, finding that answer more than proficient to describe everything and all that she was regarding this situation as well as possibly the personal relationship she shared with Bane.
The man eyed her up and down, a droplet of sweat easing down the side of his temple. He was looking at her as if determining if she were capable of pulling out a weapon at a moment's notice. She of course wasn't; she simply ignored his demeanor and immediately got to work with the inventory check.
She had to do a double count because her numbers weren't quite matching up to what she had recorded in her inventory list. She also noticed that she was being watched intently, scrutinized even; so she straightened herself up and gave the sweaty man a huge smile before she sauntered away with Barsad.
"Something is off. There's ammo missing when there shouldn't be," she mumbled to Barsad as they left.
Barsad gave her a critical look before looking over his shoulder at the man staring at their backs before turning back to her.
"We need to tell Bane," he said simply
Myra let out a frustrated sigh. That was not what she wanted to do. Telling Bane would undoubtedly create a moderate level of confrontation that Myra was never comfortable with, particularly if she knew she had to watch.
They eventually made it back to the penthouse where Barsad immediately beelined to Bane to inform him of Myra's findings. Myra idled disinterestedly, hoping she wouldn't get looped into the inevitable confrontation. She wasn't so lucky, however, as Bane turned and marched up to her, crossing his arms across his chest.
"I hear there was a discrepancy in an inventory count?" he asked with slight irritation.
Myra let her eyes wander around, shuffling her feet slightly before turning to look at him, feeling mildly uncomfortable. She knew her answer was affecting someone else's wellbeing, perhaps even their life. She wasn't entirely ecstatic about that concept. She had to be absolutely sure that her numbers weren't off.
She was absolutely sure, however, with no doubt that there were missing ammo cartridges. She had checked her numbers and the contents multiple times. The last thing she needed on her conscience was knowing that a careless mistake on her part led to someone's accidental death.
"Yessss…." she eased out.
"Are you sure?" Bane questioned with slight condescension.
Myra furrowed her brows and snapped her eyes on him, feeling like she was being mildly insulted at the insinuation that there was the possibility that she was incapable of doing her job properly.
"Absolutely sure," she said sternly, seriously. Her eyes didn't waver from his so that he understood she knew what it was she was implying and the weight and potential consequences of her answer.
Bane searched her eyes for a brief moment before nodding, turning to look at Barsad and giving him a nod too. He used his hand to summon up a handful of his more competent men to accompany him as he made his way towards the exit.
Myra wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to follow Bane too; she was almost hoping he would just let her stay behind so that she didn't have to see how the events unfolded. However, as soon as he was halfway across the room, he suddenly stopped in his tracks which of course resulted in everyone else stopping. He then turned his body and then his head towards her slowly and gave her a very pointed look without saying a word.
Myra sighed, letting her shoulders drop and her head loll backwards as she dragged her feet to follow him. He turned around and resumed his exit as soon as Myra caught up with him, not seeming overly concerned at Myra's apparent reluctant attitude.
They eventually travelled their way back to where Myra had made the discovery of the inventory discrepancy. She noticed there seemed to be at least a handful more individuals present in the warehouse than when she and Barsad had been in it earlier. They all stopped their tasks, frozen as they saw Bane, Myra and his men enter the warehouse.
Myra stood at Bane's shoulder next to Barsad, who stood at his other shoulder. She looked around the room and into the corners so that she didn't have to make eye contact with the man that was staring her down earlier as she was counting the inventory.
"What have we here?" Bane asked the man who seemed to be in charge of the unorthodox situation of having an inventory discrepancy. Bane gripped his hands onto the straps of his vest as he sauntered closer. Bane left approximately 30 feet between him and the man who now very clearly started to sweat again.
He eyed Bane up and down, and then to the men at Bane's back that he had brought with him, and then back to Bane. He was very clearly calculating his odds of either escaping or engaging in a firefight. He also failed to acknowledge or respond to Bane; perhaps he knew the jig was up and didn't figure it would be worth digging himself further into the hole he made for himself.
Myra quickly realized there was definitely going to be a confrontation when one of the man's hands drifted slowly to his holstered weapon. She saw Bane angle his head towards Barsad using the non-verbal communication tactics the two seemed to share (how do I learn that language…?). Several of Bane's men inched forward past Bane and closer to the sweating man, their hands also going to their weapons in response to the imminent threat.
Bane's men were the first aggressors, bringing their guns up and taking shots. During this distraction, Bane bodily lifted Myra off of her feet to bring her several strides away behind a large wooden pallet loaded with resources; an adequate cover. He pushed her up face-first against the loaded wooden pallet, covering and shielding her body from behind with his while he used his large hands to cover her ears – as if the noise from the whole ordeal was the thing that was going to be the most offensive to Myra's senses.
Myra squinted her eyes at the sound of the gunshots, bringing her hands up instinctively to cover her ears which had already been covered by Bane's, so she just ended up covering her hands over his. Despite the extremely close proximity to the gun shots, the obvious threat, their precarious situation, Myra felt an indescribable calm settling over her. She realized it was most definitely induced by Bane's actions; he didn't rush with her to take cover, he didn't tackle her to the ground, his actions didn't indicate in any way that they were about to die. In fact, he was covering her ears as if they were attending an outdoor concert and were sitting too close to the loudspeakers. She also felt the motion of his breathing as his chest inhaled and exhaled against her back; it was slow, methodical; calming. Her mind fixated onto the warm feeling of his hands over her ears and the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back. She felt almost awkward at how calm and casual she felt about the situation. She wondered if he was intentionally breathing into her back to lull her and guide her into a calm and relaxed state.
After what must have only been seconds, Bane leaned down to bring the grill of his mask right next to her ear so she could hear him over the noise.
"Don't move from this spot. Is that understood?" he half-shouted over the sound of gunfire.
Myra quickly nodded.
Bane, satisfied with her physical indicator, gave her ears an affectionate squeeze before he dislodged them. He readjusted her hands over her ears firmly before he moved away from her and was out of sight as he went head-first into the frenzy like a shark diving straight first into a school of unsuspecting tuna.
Myra had no proper vantage point of the situation, but she could only assume what was happening. As soon as Bane was added to the mix, there were guttural screams of torture and pain. The gunshots eventually ebbed altogether, with only the sound of vicious tissue-on-tissue sounds being heard within the enclosed warehouse space.
Myra eased her hands away from her ears after she felt that the general chaos had settled considerably. There were no more gun shots, and she couldn't hear any more obvious signs of bones crunching or tearing. Her eyes did immediately look down as she heard a scraping on the ground around the corner from her pallet hideout; she realized someone was crawling towards her.
Her eyes were large as she saw a bloodied-face man – the same sweaty man who had scrutinized her earlier and was the obvious leader of the inventory mishap – ease around the corner on his hands and knees. She barely recognized him because half of his face appeared to be torn off. He had one of his arms curled around his stomach in an apparent attempt at holding pressure on a gunshot wound to his stomach.
"Help….help me…." he groaned as he tilted his head back to look up at her, pure terror and agony marring his features. Myra stood frozen as she stared down at him, genuinely not sure what she should do; she felt pity and sympathy for him, but he was also responsible for foolishly deceiving Bane and putting him and his men – her- in danger by instigating a firefight.
Myra, fortunately, didn't have to make a decision; the man suddenly jerked as his body was pulled back by the ankle, out of sight around the opposite side of the wooden pallet that Myra was taking cover. The scream that the man let out made her cover her ears again. She could hear the sound of what she felt like was a frozen bag of pees being scraped against the inside of an ice box before the sounds of the screaming suddenly stopped. She could only fathom what that man succumbed to.
Her eyes grew large when she saw Bane finally make his way around the corner, blood covering a good portion of his body. Her eyes darted down to his hands; they appeared as if he had fully dipped them up to the elbow into a pot of red chunky spaghetti sauce. She made a face as if she were about to be ill. Bane responded by quickly bending down and wiping his hands on the clothing of the nearest dead body before straightening himself back up to get her approval. She simply grimaced at him.
She forced herself to push aside the obvious nausea of the situation as she approached him, bringing a hand up to check the larger blood spots on his body to see if they were because he was bleeding or if it was splatter from his 'activities'.
"Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?" she asked hurriedly as her hands and eyes roamed over him, feeling as if she already knew the answer; he was standing up straight and had no visible indications of being in pain.
Bane grabbed her quickly by the wrists to stop her inspection.
"Stop fussing. I'm not injured," he said in an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement.
Myra furrowed her brows while glaring at him, before letting her eyes continue doing a visual search of his body in case he wasn't fully aware of some stab wound. She didn't see anything. He released his hold on her wrists after she seemed satisfied with her inspection. He turned towards Barsad who was in the midst of reloading his weapon now that the fighting had stopped. Bane's eyes moved towards the dead bodies strewn all over the warehouse floor before returning his gaze back to Barsad's.
"Arrange to have this cleaned up," Bane ordered simply, guiding Myra abruptly out of the warehouse by gripping her upper arm to steer her away from the carnage. He didn't release his hold on her arm until they had made their way back to the penthouse building.
Following the 'Talia ordeal', Bane had been particularly mindful around Myra. Not that he hadn't been before, but there were instances in which he may have went 'the extra mile' to make sure she knew she wasn't just there as an idle fancy; someone who simply served the purpose of 'keeping his feet warm at night'.
One of these instances perhaps would include nights when Myra would be fidgeting awake at night, unable to get back to sleep for various reasons. Bane would reach over to her, push aside the strands of hair covering her forehead while placing his large hand over it to check her temperature. He would then politely inquire why she wasn't sleeping. It generally had to do with her laziness regarding whether she wanted to get out of bed to get a glass of water to satiate the thirst she was feeling or because she had a mild headache. Her response would usually just be "I'm thirsty" or "I have a little bit of a headache".
Without further explanation, Bane would ease himself out of bed with a mild grunt of exertion and amble to the mini bar at the far end of the master suite bedroom. He would then grab her a glass and fill it with water and would perhaps rummage around for a pain killer before coming back to stand on her side of the bed, leaning down to deliver her the contents like a half-naked, bare-chested butler handing her items in his hands like they were on a serving platter. Myra would ease herself up from the bed, take the glass of water gratefully, pop the painkiller if need be, and would bury herself back into bed without further fuss, usually falling asleep within minutes after being tended to. Bane would amble back to his side of the bed, crawl in, and wait until she was asleep by detecting the shift in her breathing into slow and steady, before he himself went back to sleep.
Myra quickly learned that there really was no reason to get out of bed if she fidgeted long enough that Bane would eventually take notice and ask her what her issue was, and then would get up and remedy it for her without complaint. She knew she 'hooked him' and he was on the verge of tending to her discomforts when she felt him shift towards her in bed and reach out with his large hand to engulf her forehead to check it to see if she was ill with a temperature – which she found amusing because she never had a tendency of being feverish or even being ill, particularly under his watch. Myra didn't mind because she loved the feel of his massive hand spreading across her skin and consuming her forehead for a few moments as he took in her temperature, usually resulting in her eyes also being fully blanketed by his hand due to the size of it versus the size of her forehead. Bane continued to check her temperature, regardless of him ever finding a pattern of her developing a fever, because he found the feel of her eyelashes brushing against his skin like fidgeting caterpillars extremely pleasant as she shifted her eyes around expectantly as she waited for his diagnosis.
Bane was even polite enough to disregard the fact that if she had to use the bathroom at night, she seemed to have no problem or hesitation flinging herself out of bed with vigor and march energetically to the restroom to use the facilities, and then make her way back into bed without another word.
If her complaint had something to do with not having enough pillows (despite already utilizing 3 of the 4 pillows afforded on the bed, with one under her head, one between her knees, and one against her stomach), Bane would sacrifice his one pillow over to her, content with using his arm for the rest of the night if it meant she was just a minuscule more comfortable from his sacrifice.
Sometimes her needs in bed weren't of the water or pillow variety, and she very clearly had something on her mind while her eyes roamed over Bane's exposed body as he slept next to her. She would reach out and let her hand roam from his bare chest down to his stomach and settle just above the waistband of his briefs, trying to get any indicator on whether he was awake or not. If he didn't respond to her hand gliding over his skin immediately, then she would become emboldened as her hand dipped under his briefs and made contact with the soft bulge that was settled under there, cupping it lightly in her hand.
This, of course, caused Bane's eyes to shoot open from slumber as his body became rigid, his breath stilling. His eyes would roam around the ceiling, then the wall, then to Myra who was usually on her side staring right at him with a wide-eyed expression. Depending on his exhaustion level, he would give out a loud sigh before rolling over and engage in whatever activity she had on her mind with an appropriate level of enthusiasm. Unfortunately, when Bane was exhausted or tired, particularly when woken up specifically for the task; he found it incredible difficult to 'get in the mindset'.
Not caring about his own needs at that point and simply satiating the need that seemed to be fizzling off of Myra, he would roll over towards her and ease his body sluggishly over hers as he shoved her underwear down enough to gain him access before entering her with a moderate level of difficulty due to his lethargy and lack of elevated arousal. Myra knew at that point that he was simply going through the motions to get her to orgasm, which she eventually would with the help of one of his hands snaking down to expedite the process by rubbing her in just the right spot to stimulate her further as he rocked his body over her slowly and methodically.
As soon as she came, he would immediately stop his actions and ease himself off and out of her. He would then roll back into a comfortable position before falling asleep immediately with a deep sigh emitted through his mask. She came to realize that he underwent these instances for her benefit only; his preference would probably have been to remain sleeping since he never became nearly aroused enough to near completion himself when in this zombie state. He did so without a fuss even if it was completed half-asleep with his eyes usually closed as if he were one second away from passing out again.
There were nights, however, when Bane was just simply so exhausted that he couldn't bring himself to position over and into her, which required at least a moderate level of exertion and arousal on his part. In these instances, he would roll over towards her but lay prone on his stomach next to her. He would then bend his elbow and reach down into her panties and dip his hand under the fabric and begin servicing her needs with gentle but firm strokes by either twisting his fingers over her soft nub or curling several fingers into her folds. Sometimes he would perform both tasks by using his thumb and index finger to rub and twist her nub while letting his other fingers penetrate and curl against her inner flesh.
Being one breath away from falling asleep while he was performing these tasks meant that, on several occasions, he would sometimes slow down and suddenly stop as he drifted back to sleep with his fingers often still inside her. Myra, who's mind was very clearly focused on the impending orgasm induced by his brilliant handy work, would furrow her brows as soon as she realized he dozed back to sleep. She would then swing a hand back to lightly smack him in the face. This would cause him to startle awake in confusion, his brows furrowed as he took in his environment before directing it to her in a glare. The firm and intense gaze he gave her very clearly indicated that if the hand that smacked him in the face had belonged on any other person, it most definitely would have been ripped off at the shoulder.
She would respond by smiling at him teasingly, ignoring the danger and fine line she knew she walked on as it was concerned with smacking Bane in the face. She would then arch her back with her eyes fluttering at him suggestively, letting the hand that had just smacked him moments earlier trail the contour of his face. He would ease his furrowed brows and close his eyes again with an irritated huff before continuing with his task between Myra's legs until it was obvious that Myra's sexual needs had been met for the evening. He would reclaim his fingers slowly and lethargically before quickly falling back to sleep with several fingers that looked like they were coated in very thin layer of dried white wax.
Another instance was her idle complaint about him being too warm to properly snuggle with at night, causing her to sweat sometimes. She found that the temperature to the room – heck, the entire building – had been re-set to a chilly temperature the following day, which actually resorted in her seeking out his body just to stay warm. It also resulted in everyone in the building wearing winter clothing as if the heat in the building went out.
Bane also made it his mission to enlighten Myra on the art of cooking after he discovered her preference for take-out food simply wasn't out of convenience but rather because she was a terrible cook who was unable to prepare anything beyond microwavable options. Myra tried reasoning to him that her grandmother had made every attempt at teaching her to cook before she died to no avail. This fact did not seem to deter him.
Bane generally woke up before Myra did, so he would instruct her to message him with the mobile device he had given her as soon as she woke up so that they could rendezvous in the kitchen to learn about basic breakfast food preparations. Myra found it ridiculous that someone who grew up in a prison and led a rogue mercenary way of life had more cooking knowledge than she did; enough so that he was able to attempt at instilling into her a similar set of skills.
They would make use of the large luxury kitchen in their master suite, with Bane showing Myra how to cut and prep things before urging her to try. It initially started out as Bane having every intent on showing Myra enough to allow her to then go and cook an item after prepping the ingredients. When this failed after several very near kitchen fires, he would then stand immediately behind her and press himself up against her back and take control of her arms while he rested his chin on her shoulder to peer down at the task. Despite helping her like a puppet by guiding her arms and watching directly from over her shoulder, the process of cooking still failed whenever Myra was involved. Simply put, she was cursed. She lacked the certain phenomenon that occurred in certain individuals that simply allowed them 'to cook'.
After Bane deemed Myra a hopeless cause, these cooking lessons turned into Myra simply helping Bane prep and prepare their meals while he cooked it, with her usually watching off to the side as a captive audience. This allowed them to discover what each other's food preferences were, with Myra tending to like basic blander foods and Bane preferring things with intense spices and herbs.
Bane enjoyed having Myra try certain spices because her reaction would always be outrageous which he of course found vastly entertaining. One time when he urged her to try what he deemed to be a very mild spice, she immediately started sputtering and retching into the sink. This induced a few very rare and loud deep-throated laughs from Bane, which were muffled by his mask. Myra shot him a vengeful look after hearing that his rare laughter was directed at her.
"Oh, I see. You just keep me around because I amuse you. Is that it?" Myra half snickered; half sneered.
"Of course," Bane said, after his breath calmed from the amusement of the situation.
Myra didn't appreciate that response, so she dipped her fingers into some pancake batter and spread it under his cheeks quickly like a football player while he was flipping a pancake. Bane responded by immediately putting down the spatula on the counter and grabbing her around the middle and forcing her to the ground. He used his knee to press against her lower body while he kept her upper body down by planting both hands on her shoulders and easing his weight down onto her as he hovered over her. A combination of screaming and laughter erupted out of Myra's mouth.
"Lick it off," Bane ordered in a serious, non-playful way as he peered down at her.
"NO!" Myra laughed at him, looking at the pancake batter dripping down his cheeks.
"Lick it off right now," Bane ordered again in a slightly more sinister tone.
Myra continued to laugh despite the seriousness of his tone, her eyes closing at the intensity of her laughter.
"No! Our food's burning! You're going to start a fire!" She scream-laughed.
"Then you had better lick it off quickly," Bane said, dead serious.
Myra started squirming in an attempt to try and dislodge herself from under him so she could save their food from being burnt. She barely budged as Bane adjusted himself to further cover her body with his. He looked at her pointedly, clearly indicating he wasn't going to move until she did what he said even if the whole room started on fire.
She reluctantly grabbed his head with both of her hands, forced it down closer to hers, and hurriedly licked the batter of his cheeks. The smell of burning pancake started filling her nostrils as their food very clearly was getting burnt on the grill. Bane stared down at her with daggers in his eyes as she performed this task, which was a mixture of licking followed by periodic bursts of laughter from her mouth. When she was done, she shoved at him to get off of her which he complied by using his knee to help leverage himself up with a grunt of exertion before immediately seeing to the burnt pancake. He flipped it off of the grill and put it onto a plate.
"This one's yours," he said, all-seriousness.
Myra grinned, grabbing a washcloth with some water and soap and went to stand next to him. She reached up and aggressively swiped away the last remnants of pancake batter off of his face and mask while his eyes were focused on cooking. Her tongue had very clearly been a poor tool for cleaning pancake batter off his face.
After she was done, she reached up to his head and forced it down closer to her height as she stood on her tip toes. Bane complied to the direction Myra was directing his head while maintaining his focus on the frying pan. She planted a loud obnoxious kiss on the side of his head where there was exposed skin. Myra could see indicators of a grin creeping on his face from the softness of his eyes and the creases that formed at their corners.
"You amuse me too, I suppose," she said, releasing the hold she had on his head. She reached out to the burnt pancake and unceremoniously tossed it into the trash. She waited until he provided her with a few unburnt pancakes before she made her way over to the small table where they eat their meals. She immediately started consuming her food even before Bane was finished cooking the rest of his pancakes.
Bane made his way to the table, placing his plate down as he eased himself into the chair. He then unlatched his mask, took a deep breath, and then placed it on the edge of the counter before immediately digging into his food in a rush. Myra eyed him, already finished with her own pancakes but now suddenly feeling very hungry again. She got up from her chair quickly, edging her way around the table to stand at his side and waited until he had a forkful of pancake before she made her move. As he was about to force the food into his mouth, Myra swooped in like a seagull from the air and bit down and snatched the food right off the fork. She eased herself back and immediately started chewing with a huge grin on her face.
Bane glared at her for several seconds before putting his fork down slowly on the table. He reached for his mask, bringing it to his face and took several deep breaths into it; clearly, he was prolonging his lifeline without the mask for he foresaw some immediate need to do so. He set the mask back down and got up from his chair and loomed over her. Myra continued to grin, though she did inch back slightly due to his size and proximity.
Without a word, he quickly tackled her to the ground. He brought his knee and leg up and over her to straddle her properly at the waist, wrapping his hands onto her wrists and forcing his weight forward to keep them planted on the floor.
"You're in true form today, aren't you?" he said irritably, his eyes moving to her mouthful of pancake.
"Yes," she laughed as she started squirming between chewing her - his - food.
Bane squeezed her wrists gently before he bent down and planted his mouth over hers aggressively. He forced her mouth open and Myra could feel his tongue dip in and scoop the remnants of the pancake right out like a hungry bear claw searching and curling around a honey hole for the last remnants of sweet delicious honey. Myra started laughing which of course only had the mild effect of projecting any last food remnants into his mouth from the burst of air. He didn't seem to care.
He eased himself back and eyed her as he finished chewing the last remnants of pancake, making sure she was watching him as he fully swallowed the food she tried to steal. He didn't immediately get off of her but kept her pinned for several moments as if deciding what he should do, as if to tease her into thinking he was debating some fort of malicious punishment. He wasn't doing a very good job at looking sinister or menacing, however, since Myra's smile only seemed to deepen the longer he stared at her.
He eventually rolled himself off of her, helping her up by grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. He sat down in his chair, cutting his pancake stack in half quickly and transferring it to her plate without a glance or a word in her direction before he quickly continued to scarf the remaining pancake stack before the pain from not wearing the mask caught up to him.
If Bane had to leave the building on business in the morning before Myra woke up, Myra would always be pleasantly surprised to find a tray of her preferred breakfast foods arrayed thoughtfully for her on her bedside table.
Bane also recruited – or kidnapped- a renowned stock analyst named George, inviting him to stay as a 'guest' within the penthouse. His only job was to coach and educate Myra further on the intricacies of stock trading. Myra was initially reluctant to receive tutelage from a man very clearly terrified and distraught from the ordeal of being kidnapped. The man's fears eased considerably, however, when he learned that his only job was to instruct and guide Myra into making better and more educated decisions and to properly use algorithms when conducting her casual 'side business' with the $4,500,000 account she was in charge of (which was now up to $5,200,000). Considering the nature of the account that Myra looked over as being purely recreational and exploratory, this move by Bane was all for Myra's benefit. Myra had to politely tell Bane the next time he wanted to do something nice for her, some flowers or a card would suffice; please, please don't kidnap people on her behalf. Bane found her comment incredibly amusing, which made Myra think that he assumed she was joking and being insincere; which she was not.
George also became more relaxed when he realized he wasn't going to be killed or maimed, and that it may actually be more beneficial and safer for him to be inside the penthouse given the current state of Gotham. He also apparently didn't find Myra threatening. At all. Myra actually liked George quite a lot; he was a short, squat, balding older man who wore glasses and tended to sweat profusely. Myra didn't find him threatening at all either, which Myra suspected may have been one of the motivating factors behind Bane choosing him to tutor Myra, knowing they were going to be alone together for extended periods of time. However, aside from his genius regarding stocks, he also was pleasant to discuss TV shows that Myra used to watch frequently and obsess over plot holes. She also discovered that she and George shared a mutual affinity for sloths, so sometimes they would deviate from their lessons to look at sloth pictures and videos online.
The thing that truly topped the metaphorical cake in terms of Bane going the 'extra mile' for Myra and to make sure she was comfortable and would never have to spiral into self-doubt about her role as it was concerned with Bane was his ability to keep Talia away from the penthouse building, specifically the master suite bedroom. While Myra had the vague impression that Talia wasn't supposed to be making appearances anyway, possibly because she was also in the middle of a job, that certainly didn't mean she didn't; she did what she wanted since she was in charge on a technical level. Bane had also let slip the word 'infiltrate' during his words he described the things Talia did, so Myra also made a general guess that she may actually be engaging in some 'infiltration' presently.
Bane assured that Talia and Myra would never cross paths again due to one instance in the evening that Myra experienced while she was in the master suite bedroom idly clipping her toenails with one foot in her hand, her leg and knee bent at an awkward angle and her other hand holding the clippers. After one large 'clip' noise coming from the nail clippers, Myra realized that the door handle to her room was slowly turning. She lifted her head to look to see who was about to enter, with one foot held awkwardly in her hand, but the knob to the door suddenly stopped turning and she heard a commotion outside the door. Her ears tried to pick up what the noise was, and realized it was two individuals engaging in some sort of very loud shouting match.
She couldn't make out who it was; it was soft muffles at first. Then it slowly grew louder and more intense. Her eyes grew larger as she tried to decipher who the voices were, and realized it was Bane and Talia. Her face paled when she made this realization, her body going rigid and suddenly she was extremely self-conscious. She slowly eased her foot down onto the floor and stared intently at the door almost half expecting Talia to walk right in.
She didn't see the door open, but instead heard a large 'thump' noise as if a meat sack had been thrown against the wall. It startled Myra, who jumped in her chair. She saw several of the decorative hangings jostle from the impact. She immediately realized it was a body that had been either picked up and thrown or shoved into the wall. Myra made her assumptions about who got pushed or thrown into the wall based on both Bane and Talia's seeming physical capabilities and size.
Myra heard rapid footsteps retreating from the source of the large 'thump', away from the entrance to the master suite. Myra's eyes remained fixated on the door, which finally slowly opened to reveal a disheveled and red-faced Bane. He looked over to Myra and gave her a curt nod. Myra saw a considerable level of possessiveness washed over his face; he clearly made a show of demonstrating what's his was 'his' and no one else, not even Talia, had a right to interfere. He reacted to some extent by lashing out like a dog guarding his food bowl from his pack mates. Great. I'm the food.
Myra doubted very much that Bane had these sorts of demonstrations often if ever, considering the communal way he lived as a mercenary and not claiming many things as 'his'. Myra also made this assumption based on the slight hint of discomfort that also seemed to radiate off of him that very well could have been an indicator that this was one of the first times he physically lashed out towards Talia. Bane made no comment of the situation that occurred as he closed the door to the master suite quickly, locking it, and made his way to the bathroom to begin his 'before bed' routine as if it were any other night.
Author: If you got this far, don't forget to review! :) I promise, there is a direct correlation between reviews and how fast I churn out another chapter :0