Bane dropped his eyes to the top of her scarred hand.
"The bullet went completely through," he stated.
"Yes."
"The bullet lodged in your chest," he mechanically stated.
"Yes."
In actuality, the bullet had pierced the opaque pericardial sack around her heart, nearly buried itself in the dense tissue.
The silence grew, becoming painfully quiet with how much Sofia was not going to elaborate in that moment.
"Where does Talia have you going next?" Bane asked, being the first raindrops to fall after a drought from bloated storm clouds.
Unlike his intimate knowledge of every individual's assignment, details down to medical conditions, Talia did not share much with him about Sofia and where she was going to utilize her pilot.
Talia told Sofia even less, partially because she knew Sofia didn't have much interest and also to keep the people in the pool of knowledge small, a tight concentric circle.
Sofia was given free rein to do whatever she wanted as long as she picked up every one of Talia's phone calls, answered every one of her messages and followed every directive.
In the space in between one of Talia's needs arose, Sofia spent time learning the city's roadways and places she could potentially land an aircraft. She occupied a lot of time at the hanger where her C130 was being stored with the generous security team that Talia had provided.
Sofia ignored his question as she began to speak. "I saw the front page of the Gazette the other day, Talia is also someone named Miranda Tate?"
Bane remained silent as Sofia continued. "The article was about some charity gala she's hosting, a new restaurant with several stars is catering the big, fat spread."
"Miranda Tate is part of Talia's arsenal, she's a necessary evil," Bane stated after a lengthy pause.
"So she's fattening up the upper class before slaughtering them?"
"That's reductive Miss Bishop."
"Is it, then what is it that she's doing?"
Bane's thoughts drifted briefly to the billionaire Daggett, who was proving to be very instrumental in Talia's quest for vengeance.
"Their money and infrastructure are important."
Sofia scoffed, "I'm certain, but why bother with the elaborate charade and drinking real wine out of the bottles?"
Bane sat up straighter in the rigid passenger seat. "Because Talia is not like those whose bellies she fills and entertains, she likes to walk amongst the sacrificial lambs before they are butchered, hear their pleasant murmurs turn into screams of terror."
"And you, do you like dancing with those who don't know they're dead yet?"
"I do not have time for those kind of frivolities," Bane stated with a mechanical heaviness.
Sofia tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she pressed the accelerator further to the floor, keeping an eye on the tachometer as the new tires flew across the uneven asphalts.
Her lips curled up into a small smile as Sofia thought of Bane exchanging small talk about a recent international election, the rise and fall of the DOW or acquisition of the most hybrid of the hybrid vehicles.
The tip of her tongue darted from between her lips to moisten her lips as she pictured Bane holding a square plate where a single wonton was nestled on a bed of shaved ginger, surrounded by dots of bright fish roe foam.
Sofia thought of the photos that had accompanied the article about Miranda Tate's upcoming benefit gala and deep dive into the glowing woman.
A word count bukkake about the generous, beautiful benefactor to Gotham City, in which her philanthropy knew no bounds.
Her benevolence had no limits.
There were a series of pictures of Miranda dancing close with several prominent men in the city as well as what looked like a chaste brush of lips between herself and the mayor.
"Does it bother you seeing her in the arms of so any different men and what's captured happening in the open, let alone the unseen?"
"Why would it worry me?"
"Aren't you with her?" Sofia asked, taking her eyes off the road briefly to look over at Bane.
His eyes were already trained on her before she turned her head.
"No," he stated, his single word charged.
Sofia frowned, "hmmm, I thought you two might've been running the show together in every way, but I guess there can only be one head on a snake."
"What led you to that belief?"
Sofia shrugged, "just the way that Talia talks about you."
Bane kept his voice even, kept careful control of his respirations before speaking, not wanting to appear eager to know more.
Sofia downshifted and crossed a few lanes of traffic to get to an exit with a hairpin turn. If she had chosen to turn on the radio to fill the silence, she would've been tuned into the beginning of the premier of the newest program on the OWL Newsgroup, 'Lemon's Drops', hosted by the former snowflake and previous wokester Dawn Lemon.
Dawn Lemon was taking her place in the primetime lineup, anchored in between the OWL Newsgroup's flagship news programming featuring Tucker C. Arlson and the perpetually sweating, moist in appearance Rush Lindbergh, who had no relation to missing babies.
Dawn Lemon had received a stent in her bleeding heart and came out to announce on the social media platform that was just a single letter since most subscribers had a difficult time pronouncing and processing multiple syllables.
If Sofia and Bane had been watching 'Lemon's Drops,' live from the sewers, they'd have witnessed Dawn Lemon's opening monologue with her megawatt smile full of shiny teeth that matched her bleached asshole.
The Plymouth's interior remained silent as Dawn's smug-toned voice filled the space.
"I am proud to be an American and follow a savior that is being persecuted and skewered by the left-wing media. We ….. His followers are helpless to do much but use our voices and raise our words to the heavens. I am here to drop truth and knowledge."
"Facts," Dawn let hang in the air, drawing the word out to a hiss.
Sofia's confidence with the new tires had been met for miles before she maneuvered the muscle car, all horsepower, belching exhaust through the close to red-light district of Gotham City, where anything could be bought or traded, an elaborate import and export system dominated the gritty, shadowed areas of the city where murder, sex and overdoses thrived.
A particularly long streetlight allowed Bane's eyes to sweep around Gotham City at night.
Across the street, a gaggle of girls milled about, each wearing higher heels than the other, all scantily clad, all had a quota of sucking and fucking to fill.
Sofia proceeded through the intersection once the light turned green, not seeing the pimp posted in a beat-up recliner in the darkened doorway of an abandoned salon.
The Squirrel was a slight man in a poufy coat who made his nut dealing in fur.
He knew more people in Gotham City than all the hedge fund managers or primary care physicians, he provided a service to all.
As Sofia continued to steer the powerful car through the underbelly of Gotham City, cruising by people slipping needles into their veins and a heavily pregnant woman peddling her pussy for those with fetish proclivities, across the city in the East End apartment she shared with her friend Holly Robinson, Selina Kyle pulled the sleek black dress from the depths of the high fashion store's shopping bag.
The inky black fabric was resting in a nest of mauve tissue paper
Each twelve-by-twelve square of the thin sheets of paper were scented with magnolia and warm vanilla.
Selina hadn't purchased the dress of course, just found a way to make the dress disappear as she was perusing the underweight mannequins with prominent hip bones protruding under scraps of silk with an eccentric designer's label.
Selina slipped the luxurious fabric over her head, letting it fall around her in a whisper soft wave.
She stared at herself in the cheval mirror, assessing her reflection in the rich, onyx-hued dress.
Her full lips curled into a smile as she smeared on a rich lip stain, knowing she needed nothing further to enhance her appearance and gain the attention she craved and needed.
Later, as Selina walked to meet Stryver in the dimly lit bar with Wayne's stolen prints, every patron noticed how that dress clung to her lithe body.
A barfly on a worn, shiny stool, perked up at the sight of Selina strutting by, leading with her long neck, the black fabric looked practically painted on her flesh.
Dawn Lemon continued to prattle on about her patriotism and bringing knowledge to the truth seekers as Sofia pulled the car to a stop and turned off the rumbling engine as above ground, the violence in the bar played out when Stryver sent the wrong text message after the retrieved the thumb print.
"Keep some pressure on that, sweetheart," Selina said to Congressman Gilly before she adjusted her dress, running out with the affectation of a hysterical woman, colliding right into Blake.
"Call me?" Gilly called to her retreating form.
Selina feigned breathlessness, utter panic as she struggled with her words, her tone shrill.
"There's a man in there, he's bleeding!"
"It's okay," Blake soothed, "it's okay miss."
Selina disappeared into a dark alley as soon as she got away from Blake before Gotham SWAT began to exchange gunfire with the mercenaries.
Gunfire continued, confusion and then Gordon disappeared down a manhole with several SWAT officers.
Two mercenaries approached the semi-conscious Gordon, surprised they were looking down at the living Police Commissioner.
"What do we do?"
"Take him to Bane."
While the men dragged Gordon to Bane's lair, Gordon swiveled his head as much as the pain would allow, trying to absorb as much as he could in his shocked and injured state.
By the time the pair of armed men brought Gordon and laid him at Bane's feet, Sofia had time to prepare herself a fresh cup of herbal tea and head towards Bane's living space.
She slowed her approach and held her breath as she saw the two men deposit a barely moving body in front of Bane, standing back, proud of what they'd brought their master, waiting for praise.
Sofia pressed her lips together, inhaling sharply as Bane cracked the neck of the first mercenary, straining her ears as she inched closer.
"Search him. Then I will kill you," Bane stated to the mercenary with mechanical coldness.
The mercenary searched Gordon's damaged body, pulling out his badge, wallet, and the folded papers of his handwritten speech.
Bane didn't give much of Gordon's pocket contents more than a casual glance, he unfolded the pages, skimming the sloppily written words as Gordon managed to find a burst of energy and roll off the concrete ledge into the rushing water.
Gunfire rained down on Gordon as the water swallowed him up.
"He's dead," the mercenary said to Bane.
"Then show me his body," Bane said as he looked up from the unfolded pages clutched in his large hand.
"That water runs to any one of the outflows, we'd never find him."
Bane turned towards Barsad who'd been standing as still and silent as Sofia.
"Give me your GPS."
Barsad handed over his GPS unit without question.
The mercenary held still as Bane tucked the GPS device into his clothing.
"Follow him," Bane ordered.
"Follow him?" the mercenary echoed.
Sofia jumped when Bane shot the mercenary and kicked his body into the same water that had devoured Gordon.
Bane watched the dead man disappear before turning back towards Barsad.
"Track him, make sure both bodies will not be found. Then brick up the south tunnel."
Sofia's boot scuffed against the damp ground, drawing Bane's attention.
He turned to find Sofia lurking in an adjacent corridor, steam pouring from her mug as her eyes couldn't help but notice and drink in his glistening upper body, taut with musculature, death fresh upon his large hands.