Although the musclebound mercenary was absent from the glass penthouse for the next couple of days, Kitty saw plenty of him on live television.
She watched with fascination as he sauntered into what was left of the field at Gotham Stadium following a series of explosives. He rolled out an active neutron bomb and, to the audience's collective horror, broke the neck of the only man who could disable it. He then put the city under martial law, threatening to have the bomb detonated if anyone tried to flee the city.
It was a heady experience watching this charismatic man command the crowd from both the field and the jumbotron. Kitty watched the tv coverage all day long and into the night, scarcely giving a thought to her own captivity or to those who had died in the explosions.
The following day was equally compelling. The media lapped it up as the mercenary planted himself on the roof of one of the Batman's tumblers, proceding to deliver a rousing speech in front of the gates of Blackgate prison. He exposed Harvey Dent's true villainy, and Commissioner Gordon's role in the cover up. He blew up the gates of Blackgate, freeing all the men and women who had been denied parole under the Dent Act, and he gave them rifles. He demanded the resignations of the corrupt, recruited a citizen army and urged them to take back the city.
His presentation was nothing short of riveting, even though it was clear to Kitty that he was stringing the crowd along with a load of crap. However, he was an instant hit — a refreshing change of pace from the corporate suits who tried to woo the peoples' votes with empty promises. He brilliantly played the role of liberator, exposing the demagoguery that had suppressed ordinary citizens for decades and made higher education and home ownership impossible dreams.
He finally returned to the penthouse that evening just as Kitty burst out of the kitchen with a meal she'd prepared for herself.
"Well, well, well," she drawled, "If it isn't the star of the show himself, direct from his spectacular debut in Gotham City. You know, I've been acting most of my life but I may as well turn in my union card, because I will never, ever give a performance like the one you've given over the last couple of days. You're superb... Mr. Bane, is it? At least that's what the media calls you."
"Good evening, Katrina," Bane rumbled after a time, ignoring her opening salvo. He seemed remarkably calm after a day when his adrenalin and testosterone surely must have worked overtime. He had removed his shearling coat and armoured vest to reveal a black knit shirt that clung to every detail of his spectacular chest and arms.
Kitty's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his body, and her tongue swept her top lip as she drank in his powerful allure. Suddenly it wasn't only food that she wanted.
"Just how many believers did you win over today with that act of yours," she queried, setting her plate on the coffee table and stretching out on the room's massive sectional.
"More than you can possibly imagine," Bane replied smugly as he hovered over her. "Your beloved theatre district is silent tonight. The lights are out and the theatres are being stripped of their seating to make room for squatters."
Kitty paled and sat up straight. "What did you say?"
"You should thank me, Katrina. Your understudy can no longer steal your thunder."
"You...you're destroying all the theatres?"
"Yes," he rasped, smiling behind the mask. "Including the Brett Addams theatre, where you performed seven shows a week until two days ago."
"But... that's my home! The theatre is my only family and it's my career. I... I told you I'm nothing without my career!" Her beautiful blue eyes grew wide with panic and she rose from her seat.
"You are a selfish, greedy and jealous woman who would stop at nothing to get what you want. I came to Gotham to end your kind," Bane declared.
"You goddam monster!" Kitty lunged at Bane and began pounding on his chest and mask, but she was no match for the big man's brute strength.
Bane took hold of her neck with one massive hand and thrust her away from him, watching impassively as she struck her head on one of the penthouse's hideous life-sized brass collectibles.
Mild disappointment rippled through his being. He had been looking forward to bending her to his will and humiliating her. He had wanted to break her so thoroughly that she would come crawling on bloodied knees, her disagreeable personality having been successfully exorcized by him.
And yes, he had wanted to punish her for not being the woman he'd been taken with on stage at the Brett Addams theatre — the woman who had made his body react in a way he had never experienced.
None of it mattered now as she lay inert on the hardwood floor. She was damaged goods that he had no intention of fixing.
"What the fuck is going on here," Barsad asked as he wandered in from the penthouse's cavernous foyer.
"A disagreement," Bane grunted.
The second-in-command squatted down and examined Kitty's head. "She's bleeding, but she's alive,"
"Get rid of her!" Bane ordered. "Toss her where her adoring fans can find her."
"Kitty Nash? You're Kitty Nash, the actress?"
Kitty's sleep-caked eyes struggled to open as she became aware of someone standing over her.
"Do you know who you are, and where you are?"
"Who wants to know..." Kitty groaned as she threw her arm over her eyes to block the harsh light.
"Detective John Blake," the man replied, briefly showing his badge even though Kitty had covered her eyes. "I was visiting a patient here when one of the nurses recognized you and alerted me. She thought the police should know of your whereabouts given you're a missing person. Your doc says you were experiencing some amnesia but it seems to have passed."
"Ummm... yes, I'm Kitty Nash and I have a head injury. Why am I not on the private floor for celebrities? Don't they know who I am?"
"You should count yourself lucky, Ms. Nash. I got you a private room to keep the media away," he replied judgmentally. "Otherwise you'd be recovering in a hall in the ER. This place is overflowing with critically injured patients, more so than you."
"Yea, well, this may be a private room but it's noisy and the food is lousy."
Blake took a deep breath, trying to ignore the instant dislike he felt for her. "You were spotted in a snowbank in the theatre district and brought here," he continued.
"Well, Detective John Blake, Bane is the man who's responsible. He stalked me, had one of his men abduct me, and then put me up in some godawful glass penthouse."
Blake's mouth set in a grim line. "How did you end up in a snowbank?"
"He wanted to save me from whatever fate he has in store for the rest of the city. I challenged him on destroying the theatre district. I started hitting him and the next thing I knew I woke up here."
"Do you know when you're gonna be released?"
"Soon, I hope. This place smells like a dirty diaper," she responded uncharitably.
"I'm usually here everyday. When the doctor gives you the okay, I'll get you out of here. Sort of like a police escort. How does that sound," he asked, trying to engage her in pleasant conversation.
"Fine, fine," she said, waving him off. "Just don't take me out the front doors."
Blake shuffled his feet as he fought to keep his cool. He had zero tolerance for entitlement and ego.
"You know, Ms. Nash. We're all in the same boat here. We're all worried about what happens next. Your ungraciousness is out of place here."
Three days later, Blake drove Kitty home from the hospital and accompanied her to her loft in the meat-packing district. The security system had been defenceless in the face of an angry mob. The heavy metal door had been breeched and the loft thoroughly trashed. Bane's newly raised army had swept through the entire building, evicting all of its tenants and destroying their belongings. Inside they found three drunken young men smashing beer bottles in front of a roaring fire.
Without a word Blake showed them his badge, took their rifles, and waved them all out. They were clearly first-time agitators fearing arrest, and meekly made their exit.
"This sucks," Blake said as he watched Kitty fall to her knees at the fireplace.
Silently she retrieved a childhood memento from the floor — a cherished silver plate cup she'd won in a singing competition, now forever damaged by a bullet hole. Scattered around the floor were the broken pieces of more memories. Smashed framed photos of Kitty in school plays, a reference letter written by her teacher from when she applied to theatre school, a photo of her the night she made her Gotham debut as Miss Olsen in 'Promises, Promises'. There were framed posters of every musical or play she'd ever appeared in, and gifts and congratulatory notes from people she'd never met.
No photos of family, friends or lovers would have been found by the mob. Kitty had burned her bridges a long time ago as far as relationships were concerned. Everything she'd always clung to had been crowded on the fireplace mantle and the wall above. Now it was all torn and broken. She didn't want to look at what was burning in the fireplace.
Blake rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Kitty swallowed hard.
A wave of grief swept over her and she did something she hadn't done in years — she sobbed uncontrollably. Blake reckoned she cried for a half hour, when suddenly the tears abated as quickly as they had started, and she dried her swollen eyes on her sleeve.
"I'll get him," she sniffed, her voice low and shaky. "If it takes the rest of my life, I'll make that son of a bitch wish he never met me!"
"We all wanna get him, Ms. Nash," Blake frowned. "Eat your takeout and get some rest. Make sure the door is secure from the inside after I'm gone."
"Detective Blake," she called as he turned to leave. "You won't speak about this. To anyone."
"No, ma'am. Nothing to report. We all need a private cry every now and then."
Apologies did not come easy to Kitty, nor did expressions of thanks. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
"I appreciate that," she replied, unable to look him.
By the time the city began its second week of occupation, Kitty was even more determined to go after Bane. Not only had he robbed her of her livelihood, but his thugs had destroyed all of her theatre mementos, resulting in her having a humiliating emotional breakdown in front of a complete stranger.
She'd been tossed around like a rag doll. She'd been forcibly sedated, and suffered a head injury.
Now there was hell to pay.
The fact that she was aware of Bane's weak spot was in her favour. He had admitted that he'd had her abducted from the theatre after witnessing her performance because he had deemed her worth saving. Very quickly he learned that he'd made a mistake.
It was Jenna he wanted — vulnerable, submissive, apron-wearing Jenna with a talent for pie-making and song.
Kitty had taunted him mercilessly about it.
There was no real Jenna. There was only Kitty, the volatile actress who breathed life into her every night and disappointed him with her crude language and apparent promiscuity.
After several days' rest Kitty decided it was time to put her plan in motion.
One of the major news networks had reported that Bane was splitting his time between City Hall and the penthouse of the late John Daggett, the wealthy Gotham businessmen who was rumoured to have funded Bane's reign of terror. She knew she hadn't been held at City Hall, so she packed an overnight bag, shrugged into an over-sized wool coat and set off for the luxury building where she was certain she'd been held hostage.
The main entrance was guarded by men with guns, one of whom was the curly-haired mercenary she'd encountered in the penthouse suite.
Kitty took a deep breath. If everything worked out the way she wanted, she was about to be the star of a play that could have a long engagement, one that would take a great deal of energy and discipline to pull off.
"What you want," the mercenary demanded, approaching her as she tried to pass through the tall Art Deco doors. "Boss threw you out."
"I'm...I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," she said sweetly, "You see, I was injured and the doctors tell me I have amnesia. All I know is that this is my home, and there's a bearded man. Is he here?"
"Leave or I kill you," the mercenary threatened dismissively.
"Please sir. Call the bearded man."
"We are done with you. We left you for dead in the snow. And we have many bearded men."
"Oh, but I want to see the important bearded man. The one who made me breakfast. You remember that, don't you? You pointed the way to the kitchen, where I found..."
The roar of a tumbler drowned out Kitty as they turned in time to see Barsad leap from the vehicle to the sidewalk.
"There you are!" Kitty shouted excitedly as she ran toward him. "I'm trying to tell this man that this is my home."
Barsad winced as he recognized Kitty. "What the hell are you doing here, nasty girl? You should be dead."
"She try to tell me she has amnesia, brother. Don't trust her."
"Why are you people so mean," Kitty asked as her lower lip trembled.
"I'll take it from here, Vlad," Barsad said as he grabbed Kitty's arm and shoved her toward to building's massive main doors.
Like the flighty heroine of a rom-com movie, Kitty attempted to keep up with Barsad's quick strides, speaking breathlessly as he pulled her through the lobby.
"I've been in the hospital and I'm still experiencing lingering amnesia. I was trying to tell that man that this is my home, that I remember the kitchen and you. Why won't he believe me?"
"Quiet!" Barsad barked as he shoved her inside the express elevator reserved for the owner of the building. "I'll let Bane decide what to do with you."
"Bane!" Kitty gasped, wide-eyed. "You mean that monster who's terrorizing the city?"
"Oh, man," Barsad declared as he activated the button that would take them to penthouse number four. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I don't believe you for a minute. Bane may think you're a good actress, but if you ask me, you stink!"
Undaunted, Kitty didn't break character. She had expected resistance from this man, given the loyalty he'd shown to Bane. He was allegedly second-in-command, and yet he wasn't above doing grunt work like abducting an actress or making breakfast in order to please his boss.
Inside the penthouse, both Barsad and Kitty were startled to find Bane, who usually appeared later in the evenings.
Bane showed no surprise at the sight of the women his men had left for dead.
"Look who I found trying to sweet-talk her way back here. If you believe her, that bump on the head landed her in the hospital and now she's claiming she has amnesia. She says that this place is her home."
Barsad watched Kitty quake in her sensible track shoes as Bane cast a dark shadow over her.
"How ironic that you have returned here, Katrina, given that you and i did not part well."
"Wh-what are you talking about? I don't know you. I've never seen you before, except for on tv."
Bane's hand flew up to her neck and slowly put the pressure on. "I warned you not to toy with me, did I not? You will not leave here alive a second time."
He had increased pressure on her neck and although she was alarmed, Kitty gambled that he was still interested in her the way he had been interested the night he had her abducted. If so, he likely wouldn't harm her.
Her eyes filled with tears and she feigned abject terror as Bane's giant hand remained firmly wrapped around her neck.
"You warned me about what?," She gasped. "I told you, I...I've never seen or spoken to you in my life! I only remember this bearded man. Now, let go! You're hurting me!"
"Very well," Bane agreed as he abruptly released her.
"Now, may I please go to the kitchen? It's time I made dinner."
"By all means, Katrina. My brothers are hungry, as am I..."
Kitty cheerfully removed her coat and headed for the kitchen
"Are you fucking crazy? She's playing us, brother," Barsad whispered. "She doesn't have amnesia. She's up to something. Who knows, the CIA could have got hold of her and she's cooperating with them to bring us down!"
"Calm yourself, brother," Bane smirked. "Do not be led astray by wild speculation. That woman would never cooperate with anyone, although I do agree with you that she is faking her amnesia, and that she is up to something. The question is what."
"Well, then let me finish her off," Barsad demanded as he reached for his rifle. "This is nuts!"
Bane's brow quivered with amusement. "I think not," he replied. "She intrigues me. She is faking, and she knows that I know she is faking. I am curious to see where this ruse goes. Indeed, I suspect I shall enjoy myself along the way."
Kitty burst out of the kitchen, having put on an apron and tied up her hair Jenna-style. "I forgot to ask — how many for dinner tonight?"
"Twelve," Bane replied. "There are twelve men stationed here."
"Easy," she declared as she bounced back to the kitchen. At the enormous kitchen's butcher block, she resumed sorting through fresh vegetables. A stray lock of black hair tumbled provocatively over her left eye as she worked, and her lips curled into a devious smile.
The short-term memory loss she experienced while in the hospital had inspired her. Where women were concerned, Bane had revealed himself to be a fool, just like all other men. And Kitty would ensure that he never forgot it, because she intended to break his fucking heart.
"It's curtain time, you terrorist son-of-a-bitch," she chuckled softly under her breath. "If it's Jenna you want, it's Jenna you're going to get."
Author's Note: Hi everyone. I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter. I hope everyone has a great summer. :)