Despite their best efforts, Barsad and a small squad of men failed to turn up Kitty, and returned to the townhouse shortly after sunrise.
"Wherever she was singing from, she's long gone, brother."
"She will be back," Bane insisted. "Media attention has increased since she first broke into song at City Hall, and now the incident this morning. An actress needs a spotlight, brother."
Bane gestured to the flatscreen television, where the popular Gotham morning show host Joanna Jardine spoke with locals about about Kitty's performances.
Bill Purcell, you are stage manager at the Brett Addams theatre, and you were witness to both of Kitty Nash's impromptu live performances. Some are suggesting that this is a heroic effort on her part to build momentum and drive the people to move against Bane. What's your take on all of this?
Well, I...I don't know if it's anything like that. And with all due respect, I admire her talent, but this doesn't sound like something the Kitty I know would do. However, I do think she wants to distract the people. She is a performer and these are uncertain times. Some say the bomb will go off and others say it's just a tool to control us. But if it's true that she wants to get people to move against Bane, then I think she has an uphill battle. There are just too many bad guys with guns and tanks out there. Having said all that, I hope she continues to entertain us. It's nice to hear something hopeful and beautiful instead of gun shots and explosions.
"I don't like it," Barsad complained. "We have more important things to do, like keeping this city secure, Bane. Let's not get ourselves tied up in knots over a one hundred pound actress. If we're not paying attention, Navy Seals could infiltrate this island, and Talia will hang us from the bridge."
Privately, Bane wasn't as willing to shrug Kitty off. He'd witnessed her power as a performer - the way she had held an audience in the palm of her hand. Could she possibly encourage the people to act against him?
"This city is more than secure," Bane rumbled. "There is plenty of time to investigate agitators. The daughter of Ra's al Ghul need not concern herself with my day-to-day operations when she has her own set of priorities to pursue."
"Should I tell her you said that?" Barsad winked.
Having spent his entire work day at John Daggett's townhouse, Bane decided against returning to the sewer and settled down on the king-sized bed in the elegant primary suite. He lay on his back in deep sleep, with his right arm draped over his barrel-sized chest. An hour before dawn, he was unexpectedly roused from his slumber by a distant melodious male voice.
There's a bright, golden haze on the meadow
There's a bright, golden haze on the meadow
The corn is as high as an elephant's eye
And it looks like it's climbing clear up to the sky
Oh, what a beautiful mornin'
Oh, what a beautiful day
I've got a beautiful feelin'
Everything's goin' my way
Bane's right eyelid slid open to reveal a murderous gleam. Those close to him knew only too well that he detested being forcibly awakened except in emergency situations. He had always relied on his own biological clock.
As he pulled on his black shirt and slipped into his boots, he could not have known that the bold baritone in the distance belonged to Danny Sheridan, one of Kitty's co-stars.
I've got a beautiful feelin'
Everything's goin' my way
Once he reached the townhouse's main terrace, Bane found Barsad angrily firing shots into the sky.
"Nothing is going your way, you singing son of a bitch!" Barsad shouted as he fired more shots. "But I'll tell you what's coming your way! A hail of bullets!"
Following Barsad's brief tirade, there was no more singing, no sound of returning gunfire, and no sound of retreating footsteps on the pavement below. Danny, who was stationed three blocks away, had moved from the window where he had first launched into song and hidden himself inside the closet of a modest 21st floor room in the ransacked Gotham Park Hotel. There he planned to remain until daylight, at which time he would safely join the level of street traffic Bane tolerated under martial law.
"She has started a fire, I fear." Bane frowned. "She is emboldening others. Shouting and shooting will not deter them. We must round them up for judgment. They cannot be far if we can hear them. Indeed, they want us to hear them, brother. A five block parameter around this building should suffice. Place your men in lobbies, store fronts and fire escapes. Watch for anyone who appears to be in a hurry to leave."
"These buggers won't be easy to find, Bane. There are lots of hotels and office buildings within five blocks, with plenty of rooms for them to hide. Looting is still rampant, so a lot of people look like they're in a hurry."
"Do it!" Bane ordered, ignoring Barsad's protests.
Pizza boxes, take-out packaging and empty beer cans littered the tiny kitchen inside Detective John Blake's mid-town apartment. Because it wasn't safe for Kitty to return to her loft, the hot-headed detective had offered her the use of his home while he kept Commissioner James Gordon on the move. He likely never considered that Kitty would bring friends. Five members of Gotham's theatre community were now living together in 800 square feet.
Danny Sheridan had made it back safely following his pre-dawn serenade, armed with a bag full of breakfast sandwiches and beer. The group had fallen over themselves laughing since his arrival.
"You were masterful, Danny," Kitty praised as she opened a can of beer. "I've never heard you deliver a song quite like that before. A toast to you, and let's hope you really pissed off Bane."
"That's the plan, Kitty," Danny replied. "Hopefully the people catch on, too. We need them to feel empowered. None of us knows how this thing is going to end, but I'm damn well gonna make sure that Bane always feels uneasy. I'm tired of watching that preening fucker strut his stuff on the news every day. Let's make him feel that there's something out there he can't control."
"You're up next, Alia," Mateo said. "But we'll give it a few days before we send you out. We don't want to establish a pattern. We need the element of surprise."
"That gives me lots of time to rehearse, and I'm living for it." Alia replied with steely determination. "I'm going to give that bald behemoth a musical tongue-lashing!"
Kitty rose from her seat to follow Mateo into the kitchen and help tidy up the mess they'd all made.
"I'm really looking forward to our Sondheim number, Mateo," she said as she picked empty beer cans out of the sink and stuffed them into a recycling bag while Mateo flattened the pizza boxes.
"Great," he replied, with somewhat forced enthusiasm.
"I know you and I had some rough times during the run of the show, but hopefully it's all under the bridge? You probably didn't think so at the time but we made a great team, didn't we?"
Mateo paused for a moment. Considering his volatile history with Kitty, he was unsure as to whether her claims were delusional or genuine. She had told all of them that she wanted to be a better person, but he was a man who held a grudge, and wasn't sure he bought her newfound humility.
If she genuinely believed they had made a great team, then she'd had plenty of time to say so in front of the entire crew. She never did, preferring to tear him to pieces after every performance.
Mateo searched his mind for a suitable reply until one finally came to him.
"Well, the audience sure thought so," he beamed.
"Yes, it did. Standing ovations, remember? I'll be back as soon as I take all this stuff down the hall to the recycle room."
"I"ll follow you with the boxes," Mateo called out cheerfully. He waited patiently as Kitty struggled with the large bag of cans. It wasn't until she disappeared out the apartment door that he allowed his fake smile to fade.
Days later Bane and Barsad were summoned to the sewers, where they found Talia already waiting. It was a meeting Bane had been dreading, because Barsad had told him that she was angry about the murder of two men in Kitty's loft.
"Once there was a time when I could rely on you, Bane," Talia asserted as she paced back and forth in Miranda Tate's Jimmy Choo heels. "Never before have I had to arrange an emergency meeting because you have fallen down on the job! I came here as soon as I could get away, and what do I find..."
A tense Bane gripped the the straps of his fortified vest for support. "Your point, my dear?"
"Kitty Nash murdered two of our men in cold blood. Have you got her in custody?"
"No," Bane replied firmly.
"And why not?"
It wasn't the first time Talia had put Bane on the spot and forced him to talk his way out of a situation involving Kitty.
"Because Katrina Nash is not the killer. Is that not so, brother?" Bane nodded as he skillfully enlisted Barsad's aid.
Barsad swallowed hard, silently cursing Bane for involving him even though the evidence he was about to present was solid.
"One shot to the chest each. Those bullets hit home, Talia. Whoever killed our men is a pro, or a skilled hunter," Barsad replied.
"Katrina is merely an entitled, temperamental actress," Bane insisted. "She hasn't the backbone to be a killer."
"Well then, the time has come to make an example of her, guilty or not," Talia countered. "I heard her crooning like some cheap chanteuse in a back alley watering hole. In case you haven't already determined, she was singing for you, my friend. She was taunting you. Teasing you. And that's a good enough reason to hang her where the world can see!"
"It shall be done." Bane lied. He smiled behind the mask, wondering if Talia had any notion of the many times he had stretched the truth, disobeyed or downright deceived her. These were the coping mechanisms of a man who was highly capable of running his own operation, but enslaved by a never-ending debt to the al Ghul family.
"Take care of the Kitty Nash problem and any copycats first," Talia ordered. "Bring her to me, then we'll solve the murders."
As Bane and Barsad watched Talia disappear into a little-known tunnel that would lead her to the surface, both men relaxed.
"Thank you, brother," Bane rumbled. "I have not had an opportunity to review the latest briefings on the killing of our men. I knew I could rely on you."
"And that's why I'm your second-in-command," Barsad smirked. "You owe me, brother. Now, what are you gonna do about the Kitty problem?"
"Talia is correct in her observations. There is no doubt that Kitty was taunting and teasing me with her performance," Bane growled. "I simply will not tolerate it."
"So, we gotta catch Kitty and that smug joker who was singing about getting his way. Hopefully that'll be the end of it."
"Do not count on it, brother, Bane said as his eyes narrowed. "But we will catch Katrina."
He cast his mind back to the moment when she had told him that she could never love a monster like him, and that no woman ever could. She had told him that he was a fool if he believed otherwise.
Her claims had bothered him at the time, but he eventually convinced himself that they were merely words meant to hurt, rather than the truth.
He now had no intention of killing Kitty or turning her over to Talia, preferring instead to play a game of cat and mouse that would end with her bending to his will, completely and utterly broken. Hot blood coursed through his veins and stiffened his member as he anticipated the outcome.
All was quiet for a few days until one evening when the twelve men occupying John Daggett's townhouse sat down to dinner.
"Too bad Kitty's not here," Vlad scoffed. "I like her cooking. When Bane gets her back again, you tell him to chain her to the kitchen," he nudged Barsad.
Barsad was about to shove a gravy soaked biscuit into his mouth when an energetic female voice sounded from somewhere outside. He leapt to his feet, licking his fingers as he ran for the terrace.
Don't tell me not to live
Just sit and putter
Life's candy and the sun's
A ball of butter
Don't bring around a cloud
To rain on my parade
"That's a woman's voice, but it doesn't belong to Kitty," Barsad called to the men. "Looks like we got ourselves another copycat singer, boys. Bane was right when he said there'd be more."
Don't tell me not to fly
I've simply got to
If someone takes a spill
It's me and not you
Who told you you're allowed
To rain on my parade
Bane emerged from the shadows to join Barsad, Vlad and the other men at the edge of the terrace. He'd been lurking there for quite some time.
"These aren't ordinary citizens singing in the shower, Bane," Barsad said. "The two copycats, along with Kitty, are professional singers."
"I quite agree with you, brother," Bane replied. "I further suggest that tonight's singer, and the man we heard days ago are known to her, and all are working together to stir up the people."
Who told you you're allowed
To rain on my parade
Bane waited calmly for the defiant musical refrain to end before finishing.
"The songs are appropriate responses to our siege. I believe Katrina has a plan."
"It's time to go after this one. I say she's three blocks west of us," Vlad said as he reached for his rifle.
"Nah," Barsad disagreed. "Voices carry, and you got hearing problems. She's directly south of us."
Who told you you're allowed
To rain on my parade
"Enough!" Bane bellowed, "Find that woman!"
The next morning a hungry, exhausted and frustrated Barsad was making his way back to the Daggett townhouse empty-handed, when a young boy stopped him in the street. He recognized the boy as being from St. Swithin's, a Catholic orphanage located just off Grand Avenue.
"I have a message for you, sir," the boy said in a small voice.
"Don't tell me. You hate me, right?" Barsad scoffed. "It's not like I haven't heard that before from you boys."
"No! I have a message from a man. He's around the corner."
Bane's second-in-command sneered. "Yea, and so is an ambush. I'm not falling for that, kid!"
"Mister Barsad, he offered me money. Fifty dollars to get your attention, and fifty dollars if I put you face to face with him. Here's the first instalment." The boy reluctantly held out a fifty dollar bill, fearing Barsad would steal it. "He says he has information you'll be interested in."
Barsad frowned, highly suspicious of the boy's claims. "I'm carrying an AR-15. You tell your guy that I'll drop him if he or anyone else tries anything."
The boy obediently rounded the corner, re-appearing thirty seconds later with a second fifty dollar bill in his hand. "He's ready, Mister Barsad."
"Get lost, kid," Barsad ordered. "I don't want you to get hurt."
As the boy bounded away with his riches, Barsad slowly inched around the corner, finding a lone man with dark brown eyes and his collar turned up against the cold.
"You got something for me?" Barsad asked.
"Yea," the man replied as he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Rumour has it that Kitty Nash is starting a movement to overthrow Bane. So, I'll bet you're looking for her, aren't you?"
"Who wants to know?" Barsad countered.
"It doesn't matter who I am. I can give her to you. I can tell you the exact time, day and place where you can pick her up."
"Suppose you're telling me the truth. You're not giving this information away for free are you, friend? What's in it for you?" Barsad demanded.
"I want to be airlifted out of here when I turn her in. I have a date with an important audition in New York City."
"You must be one of the singers," Barsad guessed. "So much for collaboration."
"Don't lecture me," the man said, his voice breaking with emotion. "You don't know what it was like, performing with her night after night, only to have her berate and emasculate me in front of the entire crew backstage. I've tried to forgive her given the times we're living in, but it's impossible. I want her to know it was me that betrayed her. I want to see the look on her face!"
"Can't say as I blame you," Barsad observed, having had a few run-ins of his own with Kitty. "Okay, I'll take this to Bane. See what he says..."
Author's Note: Happy New Year, everyone. Thank you for reading. "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin" is from Rodgers & Hammerstein's "Oklahoma". "Don't Rain on My Parade" is from Merrill & Styne's "Funny Girl".