The sounds of drilling and shouting echoed around Bane.
It was nearing the time. They would make their presence known to the people of Gotham tomorrow.
They had been working non-stop all week to prepare for it.
He had just spent the last two hours going over the logistics with the bike team and suddenly he was overcome with exhaustion.
He needed to sleep.
"Barsad, I will need you to run things for the next three hours." Bane stood and turned to Barsad.
"Sure. If something happens should I come get you?"
"No. Myself and Miss Fitzgerald are not to be disturbed while I am away."
Bane saw Barsad's eyes widen a fraction before he cleared his throat and gave him a singular nod.
"Good."
The hit on the stock exchange would commence tomorrow morning. It was a monumentally important day and he wanted to be well-rested. And for that, he needed his songstress.
Grace has been delighting him each night with her lovely voice.
Albeit, reluctantly.
Their relationship had changed significantly since the night of her brother's failed initiation.
He knocked before opening the door.
The room was shrouded in darkness.
"Grace?" He turned on the lights.
He could see her body buried beneath several blankets. She sniffled before sitting up.
Her eyes were red and misty.
"Are you well?"
"I'm fine."
He knew enough about women to know she was lying. But he also knew that she wouldn't appreciate him contradicting her.
"What time is it?"
"It is a little after 11."
"Night or day?"
"Night."
More tears gathered in her eyes.
"Night... okay. Do you need me to sing?"
"I want you to sing for me." He stood over her.
She sniffed again. "Can we stay here?"
"No." He didn't see any need to explain why. He wanted to sleep and her bed would not be suitable for his size. "I do not have long before I will be needed again." He held out his hand.
She looked at his hand for a moment before standing up. Bane had never felt the sting of rejection before now. It had never bothered him before, but there was something in her casual dismission of his gesture that irked him.
"Do you want me to bring my fiddle?"
"Yes."
"Grand, I'll wrap it in a blanket so no one knows what we're actually doing." She muttered.
Bane narrowed his eyes. He didn't feel the need to comment. She had been playing the part well. Whenever they were seen outside of rooms, she was dutiful and followed his lead.
They walked along the corridor towards his room. Grace flinched when the ever present sounds of Patrick throwing himself against his door echoed around them.
"I'll fucking kill you! You're all dead!" The man shouted over and over.
Grace paused in her step and for a moment she looked like she was going to shout back at Patrick.
"If you wish for him to be unharmed, you will keep quiet." Bane warned.
Grace gave him a disgusted look before striding ahead of him. She knew the way to his room by now, but that didn't means she was allowed to roam the halls without him.
Within two steps, he had her arm within his grip.
"Hey! Let go!" She started to drag her feet as he moved them down the corridor. "You're hurting me!"
"Miss Fitzgerald, if I wanted to hurt you, you would not be alive."
"That's not exactly comforting."
"Those words were not intended to comfort, they were meant as a warning."
Bane practically threw her into the room as she refused to walk.
Grace landed on Bane's bed with an 'oof'.
Bane slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked before turning back to Grace. She was still on his bed.
"Move."
"Give me a minute," She huffed as she moved to sit up. "I think I hurt my ribs." She rubbed the area.
He gave her a quick once over.
"You are fine."
"They could be broken." She snapped.
"If you did have a broken rib you would not be able to sit up. Now please move so I may rest."
"Why can't I just record some songs for you and then you won't have to drag me here each night?"
"I prefer live performances, my dear." He laid down as she shifted to her customary seat.
She sighed despondently.
"What do I have to sing?"
"What do you wish to sing for me?"
"Oh you really don't want to know what songs are popping into my head right now."
"Such as?"
"None you would approve of, I'm sure."
"Sing what you wish, I will not punish you if the lyrics are offensive."
"You must not know too many rap songs, then."
"My dear, I do not wish to be rude, but will you begin? We are on a time limit."
"Of course." He could hear the words come out through clenched teeth.
"You don't own me
I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me
Don't say I can't go with other boys
And don't tell me what to do
Don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display 'cause
You don't own me
Don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me
Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay..."
He almost laughed at her song choice. Subtilty was not her strongest trait it appears.
Bane drifted off the sleep as she sang. Her raspy voice was somehow more soothing when she was angry. Not that he would ever share this observation with her.
xxx
Grace gently played the fiddle as Bane slept.
The memories of her brother throwing himself against the door and screaming out those threats was rather disconcerting. He always seemed so happy-go-lucky when they were younger. Or at least before they were trapped in the sewers.
There were occasions when he acted like his former self. But this new person was slowly taking over his entire personality.
Barsad frightened her too occasionally. He would have killed Patrick if he held the dagger.
But Bane has always frightened her. Ever since she first laid eyes upon him, she had been terrified.
He was like a monster from her nightmares. A man with a mask that threatened her life and her brother's.
But then he was also the man she sang to sleep. A man she lied for.
Then he became the man who was willing to let her die at hands of her brother and saw no problem psychology torturing him.
Bane was a scary man. But when he slept he seemed... normal.
It was odd to think he slept like a regular person. A little part of her thought he was a machine at one point.
His chest rose and fell with each breath.
Grace hummed softly when she became tired of playing her fiddle.
She opened one of Bane's books and went to the last chapter she remembered reading.
Bane didn't like it when people dogeared the pages. Said it ruined the integrity of the books. That was one thing they could agree on.
Bane seemed to enjoy tails of conquest and empire.
The book followed the journey of two captive slaves that freed themselves from their oppressors and made it their life mission to reek their revenge.
Maybe herself and Patrick could escape from their captivity one day like the characters in the book.
As she looked over the top of the book at the man who held her life in his hands, she knew she wouldn't be able to overpower him.
Grace was just as trapped here as Patrick was behind that door.
xxx
Bane sped through the streets towards the Gotham Stock Exchange. The motorcycle helmet allowed him to blend in as a courier. He could see relatively well through the visor but he was looking forward to removing it. He felt rested and ready to show his face to the world.
For the first time, there was no more hiding.
"Everyone in position. You know the plan." Bane spoke into his com.
He could hear his loyal followers inside the stock exchange.
"You can't short the stock because Bruce Wayne goes to a party."
"Wayne coming back is change. Change is either good or bad."
"On what basis?"
"I flipped a coin."
He could here the inane chatter of fools beholden to the almighty dollar.
"No. Rye. I told 'em rye." The trader spots bad news on a screen. "Alright, I'll take it." He thrusts Jacques a tip and grabs the bag.
At the rear secure entrance Bane enters and walks through the metal detector which beeps straight away.
"Rookie! Lose the helmet!" She points at a camera. "We need faces for cameras."
Bane pulls off his helmet. The Female Security Guard's eyes go wide before he grabs her and hits her with his helmet and shoots the others security guards.
They can hear the commotion on the floor as Jacques pulls an automatic pistol and clubs the trader with it. More of Bane's men enter the trading floor.
Garamond fires into the large trading screens. The floor erupts into a frenzy, traders hit the floor, screaming.
Bane moves onto the floor.
He looks out at the terrified faces. People holding hands and praying to their gods for mercy.
One man actually sits up looking right towards Bane. He must think he's being brave.
Bane walks over to him. His identification badge will work for the transfer.
"This is a stock exchange, there's no money you can steal." He dries up as Bane stops and turns to him.
"Why else would you people be here?" Bane grabs the man by the throat and drags him across the floor to an online automated trades terminal... He puts the man's thumb onto the print reader - the screen lights up. "Enter your password."
"Or what?"
Or I send these men to your home, Mr Powell."
The man, terrified, types in his password.
Outside, sirens blare.
Jacques pulls out a USB drive with an antenna and plugs it into the computer, figures race across the screen... Fitzgerald better have been right about this.
Bane paces steadily amongst the terrified traders. His men keep them rooted in place with their guns.
Jacques looks up from the laptop. "They cut the fiber. Cell's working."
"For now."
Bane continues his leisurely walk around the terrified stock brokers and other unfortunate souls that were caught in the crossfire.
Each person averted their gaze from his.
One tv was was playing the news and low and behold, the stock exchange was the top story on GCN.
They were calling them terrorists.
So predictable.
"We will bring you more as the story unfolds." The screen showed a picture of a rose. "It's been over a month since Grace Fitzgerald has been reported missing, the Irish-American high school teacher was seemingly kidnapped according to her buildings security footage last month. The main suspect, Brian Mahony, is being held at Gotham City police headquarters. Police are still appealing for anyone with information to come forward."
Bane watched an image of Grace appear on the screen. It was from her graduation. Patrick was absent from the photo. Her parents looked... so eerily familiar. Grace's mother, Lisa was the spit of an older Grace and Dermot was a greying and more hardened version of Patrick.
"She was my daughter's favourite teacher."
Bane turned to the whispered voice.
"Was?" Another woman asked.
"They won't say it so I will. She's dead and if the police weren't so concerned with finding her then this wouldn't have happened to us."
The women looked up to see Bane's eyes on them.
They both huddled together in fear.
"How much longer does the program need?"
"Eight minutes."
Bane considered his options.
This was not part of the plan. The programme was meant to work fast. Fitzgerald said there would be no issues.
Did he lie?
They couldn't afford to wait.
The cell didn't mean they had to stay in the stock exchange.
The longer they stayed here, the quicker a certain someone in another mask might show up.
"Time to go mobile." Bane signalled them to move. 'They will be expecting us. Grab a hostage."
"Everybody up!" Machine gun fire caused everyone to scream.
"Thank you." He took back his helmet from another terrified trader.
Bane grabbed the closest woman to the front. The woman that thought Grace was dead.
"Come with me." He dragged her to the bikes.
"Please, no. I have a daughter!"
The same daughter that Grace taught.
"And if you want to go home to her I suggest you do what I say."