"It will definitely do for a start," she sighed as the coarse tips of his fingers teased the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Kitty had often noticed the way his fingers twitched as if in anticipation of something that would give him a great deal of pleasure.
She gasped as Bane suddenly tore off his shirt. Whether fully dressed or stripped down to nothing but cargo pants and heavy boots, he was wildly attractive.
"Do you still plan to seduce me?" He mocked lowly. "Make me fall in love with you, and then break my heart, as you once claimed you would?"
"Oh honey. Don't mind me. I say that to all the boys."
"How many boys?" Bane's enormous hand suddenly had an unbreakable hold on her right wrist. "How many boys have heeded your siren's call, only to crash and burn at the altar of your ego and selfishness?"
The fiery intent reflected in Bane's chocolate coloured orbs made Kitty feel slightly uneasy. She needed to keep control of the situation, and if she weren't careful, it could all slip through her fingers.
She licked her lips and continued.
"You mean, besides you?"
Something registered in Bane as his body shuddered from head to toe. Whether it was from unbridled lust or murderous intent, Kitty couldn't be sure.
"I do not worship you," he croaked as his fingers continued to twitch. She would never know how he'd been mesmerized as he watched her performance with Mateo, and she would never know about the raging jealousy he experienced as he watched them hold hands.
"I'm assuming you save all your worship for Lady MacBeth," Kitty mused.
"A woman of great accomplishment," Bane boasted. "A leader. A warrior. A goddess. And I am privileged to be her protector."
He pushed Kitty to the bed with one thrust, landing her on her back.
"I know why you refer to her in the way you do," he croaked. "I can assure you I am my own man. No ambitious woman whispers in my ear. Not even her."
"But she hurt you! I can still see the pain in your -"
Bane cut her off with cruel words.
"Perhaps you would be interested to know that she refers to you as a 'stage door slut'."
Kitty rose from the bed, feeling as though she'd been slapped hard across the face. Disbelief and nausea overtook her like a hot flash.
"What?" She whispered as her eyes grew pink with faint tears.
Bane saw her adam's apple jump as she swallowed hard.
"She called me... a what?" Her voice grew hoarse with emotion, and she wondered if others saw her that way as well.
"I...I've had a few boyfriends, and an ex-fiancé. I may be difficult to work with, but I'm not what she says I am." Kitty's voice shook. She was so disoriented that she was unable to defend herself any further.
"Who are 'all the boys' to whom you refer then, Katrina?"
"That's just talk! Me and my ego running off at the mouth again," Kitty dropped her head in embarrassment. "I...I never imagined that it would suggest promiscuity."
Normally she would laugh off such an accusation, but now it hurt her feelings in a way that she had never experienced before.
"I'm not a slut. Do you believe me, Bane?"
Bane smirked behind the mask. She was an odd girl. So self-confident and full of braggadocio, yet twice she had sought his assurances. Once when he claimed Mateo forgave her before he died, and now, when she needed to hear that he didn't believe she was a slut. Bane was pleased to see that she was perilously close to tears, and he reckoned that it was the perfect time to begin breaking her.
"No need to explain yourself, Katrina. We are equals now. At present we are both hurting, so perhaps it is time to make the pain go away."
Bane gently pushed her back down on the bed, capturing her soft, pedicured foot in his coarse hand.
"Come closer," he whispered as he angled her leg so that he could address the bottom of her foot.
"Perfection," he observed as he traced the arch of her foot with his rough thumb, touching all the trigger points with the skill of a seasoned massage therapist.
"Ohhhhh!." Kitty's lips parted as Bane's digits travelled upwards towards the back of her knee. She tried to speak, to say something flippant, but the words wouldn't come. Bane's touch was nothing like she'd ever experienced before.
Something so benign as a foot massage was enough to relinquish whatever control Kitty believed she had. She watched with glazed eyes as the tips of his fingers returned to the inside of her thigh.
"I take. I do not give," Bane growled.
Then, everything changed.
Something was off. He seemed to be going through the motions. He was frowning, but his eyes weren't focused on her. His mind was off somewhere else. Another woman, maybe?
Before she knew it, he had torn her undershorts and shoved his hardened member inside her, pounding her relentlessly. Kitty held on to him for dear life, wincing in pain but not daring to object. Mercifully, his body seized. He pulled out before spilling his seed and rolled off her.
Stunned and speechless, Kitty watched him dress as if she weren't even there.
Finally she cleared her throat and spoke.
"Did... did that make the pain go away?
"Indeed it did, Katrina," Bane assured her cheerfully. "I trust it did the same for you."
He left abruptly, leaving a shocked Kitty to shower and then gravitate to the kitchen. Cooking had always helped ease her troubled mind, and she set to work as she tried to make sense of what had just happened between herself and Bane.
Eventually the tears would come. She knew it.
He'd given her a glorious taste of his skills, only to become the most greedy, thoughtless, insensitive lover she'd ever known. No soft words or agonizingly pleasurable rise to the top of the rollercoaster. No fireworks at her centre. Only pain. It had simply been work for him. Just another day at the office.
As she assembled ingredients for a chicken piccata, she remembered the words he had said to her earlier.
"I take. I do not give."
The knife she was using to chop shallots paused in mid-air as the truth hit her.
Slut. Bane had treated her like a slut.
Having returned to the sewers, Bane groaned as he set himself down on his bench, full of self-loathing for what he had done — or had not done.
He had hoped the sounds of rushing water would disrupt his busy mind, but it only amplified his displeasure with himself.
He was not a man who did things half-way. He was a full-measure man in every aspect of his life and his work. He was an all or nothing man. Shoddy workmanship was not his style, and he'd never aborted a mission in his life.
He had long prided himself in being a gentleman, just like the wise, noble men he admired in his books. What would Mr. Darcy say of his ungentlemanly behaviour toward Katrina?
The die was cast however, because Bane had capitalized on Kitty's vulnerability over the nickname Talia had given her, and had chosen to start breaking her at that moment.
It had taken all his willpower to restrain himself from giving Katrina all that he wanted to give her.
In doing so, he had deprived himself of a proper union with a glorious creature. Unpleasant personality be damned. There was a reason he had her kidnapped from the Brett Addams theatre after seeing her perform. And it wasn't just an impulsive action on his part. He had again been mesmerized by her performance at the Baxter Mercantile building, and was jealous of Mateo Garcia.
Bane admitted himself that he was bewitched.
Barsad's friendly threats had become a popular feature of Joanna Jardine's morning broadcast, where the second-in-command had begun making daily appearances independent of Bane or Talia's instructions, serving it all up with cold blue eyes and an insincere grin.
On this particular morning he announced that alcohol was now being rationed in the city, citing excessive consumption as a security risk for both the people and the mercenaries.
"That's right, folks. No more drowning your sorrows in booze to avoid the reality of your situation here. I'm afraid you're just gonna have to face it with clear heads. A couple of beers a week is all you're gonna get." He ended the segment on a familiar reprise.
"And to those who've been trying to start a rebellion by singing inspirational tunes, we note you've been pretty quiet the last few days, but we know you're still out there. Changing your tactics no doubt after we caught two of you. We're gonna round up the rest of you very soon, maybe even tonight. Just remember my warning. If you sing, you swing."
He smirked as he handed the microphone back to Joanna, and took his usual path down an alley with easy access to the townhouse. It was a short cut usually patrolled by mercenaries, but on this morning the guards had mysteriously disappeared.
Barsad never had the chance to notice their absence because he was ambushed by what he later would remember as two men. One had him around the waist and another around his ankles as three of them slammed violently to the pavement.
Barsad moaned as he awoke handcuffed to a bed, watched over by a man and a woman.
"Welcome back to the world," Alia Sharma greeted him. "Well, doctor, will he live?"
"He'll be fine," Dr. Jack Shantell replied matter-of-factly. "Just make sure he takes his meds, avoids activity and gets plenty of sleep."
"Where the hell am I and what happened?" Barsad's pained eyes settled on Alia. He vaguely recalled being loaded into the back of a pick up truck by men dressed in Blackgate Prison jump suits.
"You're in a cheap hotel in Gotham. A couple of our recruits took you down and brought you here. I can't divulge any other details in order to protect their identities, but let's just say that like you Mr. Barsad, they're professionals."
In reality, Barsad had been tackled by two defensive linemen from the Gotham Rogues and Rapid City Monuments respectively. The takedown had been arranged by Brady Castellano and his cousin Jack Shantell, who was the Rogues' team doctor.
"You ungrateful Blackgate inmates sure have balls," Barsad croaked. "Bane breaks you out of prison and you return the favour by taking out his men."
"I'm afraid you couldn't be more wrong," Mr. Barsad," Alia smiled. "We're not from Blackgate."
"Who's we?" Barsad insisted as he rubbed his sore head. "You mentioned recruits."
"Never mind that. You're just in time for the show. Relax, and enjoy tonight's performance." Alia said as she threw open the hotel's windows to let in the voices of Danny and Brady.
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?
It is the music of the people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!
Barsad rolled over and hooted so loudly that he almost drowned out the song. He had hoped to catch the remaining singers that night, but in a stunning turn of events he realized that they had caught him instead.
"You're gonna have to calm down, sir," Jack advised. "Concussions are a big part of my practice, and you have quite a bump on your head."
"Okay, Doc." Barsad nodded grudgingly as his laughter died down. "Nice work, guys. Gotta admit, I didn't see an ambush coming."
"Perhaps you were too busy preening for Joanna Jardine's cameras," Alia countered judgmentally.
"You wanna know what's funny?" Barsad chuckled. "I bet Vlad Petrov a hundred bucks that this would be the next song you guys sang! Guess I'm never gonna get to collect on the debt."
"Ahhh..." Alia sighed. "So you think we're going to kill you? We haven't discussed that part yet. What is the appropriate retribution for displaying Mateo's body and mocking us live on the Jardine show, as you did?"
"You won't kill me," Barsad sneered. "You brought a doctor here to treat me, and you have no plan! You're a bunch of amateurs!"
"We're keeping you alive, for now," Alia responded sharply. "But don't worry, you'll have your day. How would you like to be stripped down to your undershorts and delivered to Crane's court? He's not on anybody's side. He just enjoys the process!"
Barsad lunged at Alia but was quickly restrained by his right wrist, which was cuffed to the double bed's ornate metal bed frame.
"You worship this Mateo guy, but maybe you'll change your mind after I tell you what he did," Barsad said as he relaxed on the bed. We'll wait until your two male chanteuses get back from their show, because I'm only gonna say it once, and I can't' wait to see the expressions on your faces."
It was hours before Danny and Brady returned from the location of their performance — a warehouse that in another century had once been Gotham City's leading producer of lithographed tinware. At six stories tall and one large city block deep, Bane's men couldn't possibly track them there. Too many rooms for his army to cover, not to mention other properties where they might be hiding.
Barsad woke from a nap as Danny and Brady finally arrived at the dusty hotel suite.
"I'd give you a standing ovation if I could get up," Barsad crowed at the two men. "Very moving, fellas. You almost won me over to your side."
"We don't want your kind on our side," Danny replied calmly. "Just keep your trap shut."
"No, let him talk," Brady insisted. "Alia says he has something to tell us."
"We're all ears," Alia said as she emerged from the suite's kitchenette with a sandwich and juice for the prisoner.
"Thank you, doll," Barsad grinned. "This is very thoughtful of you. You wouldn't happen to have a beer would you?"
"No beer for you!" The doctor cautioned.
"Stop stalling, dude. If you've got something to say, then say it," Brady frowned.
"Well, it's like this," Barsad said with a mouthful of chicken sandwich. "There was this audition being held in New York City which Mateo desperately wanted to attend, only he couldn't get out of Gotham City. So what did he do? He came to us and cut a deal. In exchange for passage out of the city, he told Bane where to find Kitty on the night she planned to be singing."
"You're lying!" Brady yelled. "He hated Bane, and he killed two of your men. He would never have given you an inch!"
"I'm afraid it's true," Barsad insisted. "I was there when he cut the deal. The guy was all done in, just wanted to start over in another city. He said he needed therapy. And you know who screwed him up? Kitty Nash. She abused and belittled him repeatedly when they worked onstage together. But, you guys would know more about that than I would."
The room fell silent for a moment until Danny shook his head and looked down.
"Kitty can do that to you," he sighed. "She's trying to be a better person, but there's still no fixing the damage that she's left behind.
"So how did Mateo end up dead?" Brady demanded.
"Bane doesn't leave loose ends. One he got Kitty back, he had no more use for your friend and would never risk the possibility of him talking once he got out of Gotham City. But hey, if you've seen that security video shown on Joanna Jardine's show, you know that Kitty is receiving a righteous punishment. Too bad Garcia isn't around to enjoy it."
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This chapter's musical number is from "Les Miserables".