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The opening bell rang. In terms of stocks and trading, the sound of an opening bell referred to the commencement of the trading day on an exchange floor. Given the advancement of today's technology with the majority of trading happening virtually, there were only two places left in the United States that still rang an actual bell: the New York Stock Exchange and the Gotham Stock Exchange.Myra Bell jolted when she heard the abrupt ringing sound. On top of Myra still being relatively new to the Gotham Stock Exchange floor, the bell was both loud and sudden despite her awareness of time and anticipation of it going off. Myra raised her shoulders up in mild discomfort, almost as if she could use the tips of her shoulders to arch inward towards her head to make contact with her ears and deafen the sound. Myra's boss took notice and gave her a playful pat on the back."Don't you love that sound?!" he asked Myra with a smirk.Myra narrowed her gray-blue eyes briefly and looked off to the side away from her boss, restraining herself from making a rude comment. She slowly rediscovered her composure and straightened out her back."It's just…just so loud. I hate loud," Myra mumbled to him.Her boss appraised her words briefly before giving her a shrug."Well, I hate to tell you this, but you may have picked the wrong profession. The 'pit' is anything but quiet," he said condescendingly.Myra remained silent. 'The Pit' was what the floor brokers, floor traders, and market makers called the main Gotham Stock Exchange floor. It more or less attempted to describe the somewhat seemingly hostile and loud confrontations that tended to take place on it. Myra knew there was also some truth to her boss's words in regard to her choosing an appropriate career choice. She had been wondering the same thing for the past several weeks after being accepted as a 'Trading Analyst Intern' for Daggett Industries. While her ability to sleep peacefully had been an issue for a handful of years now, these past few months amplified it. She had chronic dark purple bags under her eyes and always felt ‘on edge’ due to anxiety preventing her from enjoying a comfortable sleep. Not that she could remember the last time she truly had a comfortable sleep. This internship had the potential to define and elevate her career, and in turn, hopefully, her meager personal life.Myra smoothed out the signature brown blazer coat she wore that represented her position within Daggett Industries as an employee who would soon frequent the stock exchange floor. She knew she was being optimistic about her capabilities and skill set when the internship requested someone who worked well in high-pressure environments, could be comfortable working in a trading environment, and was analytical. She had the analytical part down – it was the other two traits that she was still fumbling with. Fake it ‘til you make it, right...?Her role as an intern didn't require her to make any business-related stock decisions, but instead was allocated to being more or less a coffee mule for her boss as well as supporting his operations in hopes of slowly coaxing her into a role as an entry level trader for the company. At least, that's how her boss put it. Myra was aware of her boss's misogyny and massive ego. She didn't put it past him to hire her simply due his desire to have a female serving him at his beck and call. Her suspicions were always confirmed when she caught him taking a quick glance at her boobs or her ass when he thought she wouldn't notice. She noticed. She always noticed.Myra just finished her bachelor's in economics and was still unsure about what area of 'economics' she wanted to delve into. She didn't pursue her degree in economics immediately out of high school. Instead, she spent several years traveling and exploring various odd-ball jobs and gaining technical proficiencies, even getting her private pilot's and helicopter license while briefly working at a helicopter tourist location as a pilot. She lived mostly off of the money she inherited from her grandma, however, who also had been her lone-surviving relative and caretaker.Her parents and only other sibling died in a car crash when she was 5 and she had no remaining living grandparents. Despite also being in the same vehicle as her family, her injuries were minor with only a scar on her forehead and on her lower back proof of the accident. She liked to keep her ashy blonde hair cut with bangs to cover her forehead in order to hide the visual reminder. She also irritatingly had very little memory prior to the ordeal.Myra lived with her grandma following the accident until her grandma's death when she was 18 years old. Perhaps it was her introverted personality, or remnants of her trauma as a child, but Myra didn't have many (if any) strong relationships in her life. This could also partly be due to her mind trying to convince her not to get in a situation that could cause her further emotional trauma. Myra, being the introvert that she was as well as being analytical, had no problem adjusting to this lack of relationships in her life. Did it make her socially awkward sometimes? Absolutely. She also didn't currently bother with boyfriends, after a few failed relationships and equally failed attempts at using online dating apps put her off the notion as well as the recent disgusting behavior attributed by her boss.Myra's boss led them further into the center of 'the pit' next to the monitors and computer stations. Once there, her boss immediately began interacting with one of the trading floor specialists in regard to an upcoming stock listing. Myra knew she was supposed to be attentive during this time, but she couldn't help but allow her eyes to wander around when her boss's behavior became animated and frenzied, particularly as this went on for more than a handful of minutes.Several hours did indeed pass before Myra's eyes settled on the actual physical opening bell that had gone off earlier that morning, now nearly noon, wondering how old the bell must be based on the aqua-colored oxidized copper of the outer shell of the bell. She was clearly focused on her work.Myra jolted suddenly, not because the bell rang again, but because a single gunshot filled the room, silencing everyone who had previously been focused on their work. Screams and hysteria immediately followed the silence as everyone became animated and panicked.A man next to Myra dropped limply and abruptly to the ground. She turned and observed a gunshot wound to his chest. Myra reacted instinctively, dropping to the ground to her chest, eyeing the man next to her concernedly with the fatal gunshot wound. Did he really...get shot? Is he okay? Am I safe to check on him? Am I in danger? Should I run? Myra’s attention was suddenly stolen when she heard a deafening string of bullets from semi-automatic rifles being shot into the air by at least 3 individuals who were dispersed throughout the exchange, all dressed as non-descript workers who seemed unfazed by their acts of terrorism. She quickly covered her head as sparks flew like fireworks from all of the digital displays and monitors that were being shot out systematically.Myra then saw from the corner of her eye an extremely large muscular bald man wearing a dark leather delivery jacket and a distinctly terrifying facial mask enter through the main doors to "the pit". His saunter, size, and presence of self clearly marked him as the leader. Her first impression of him was that of the most sincerest form of petrification and horror. He was gigantic, muscular, was clearly the boss of a group of terrorists, and just oversaw the murder of a man with the nonchalant attitude of a professional killer. In fact, he was markedly larger and more imposing than any other person in the stock exchange, including the other men she had marked as his henchmen. The mask he wore was almost comical by the sinister nature of it, which reminded her of a large spider that had latched onto his face. She didn't feel like the situation was very comical, however.Under the instruction of John Daggett, the masked man and his men were to invade the Gotham Stock Exchange. The goal was to make a series of bad trades under Bruce Wayne's name to force Wayne Enterprises into bankruptcy. They would be provided with Wayne’s fingerprints with the help of Selina Kyle so that they could access Wayne’s account directly from the stock exchange. In order to create time, the masked man orchestrated the presence of various cement trucks to be manned at various locations outside the exchange to prevent proper police barricading and premature entry. To conclude their plan, they would use hostages to help aid their escape from the Gotham Stock Exchange by acting as shields.The masked man sauntered halfway through the throng of huddled and prone bodies. He paused in an unhurried manner to look around at the frightened faces with seeming disregard. He then appeared to find his target, his eyes fixating on a singular brazen soul near an exchange terminal seated on a stool. This particular individual appeared to be bolder than the rest, for he had decided not to crouch and take cover when the terrorists arrived, but instead stay seated. The masked man reacted as if locked on target, making his way over to the brave soul demonstrating inexplicable bravery in the face of possible death."This is a stock exchange, there's no money you can steal," the seated man barked out."Really?" the masked man wheezed. "Then why are you people here?"The voice of the masked man came out gravelly and mechanically amplified, the accent peculiar and hard to decipher. He then lifted a gloved hand to the man's ID clipped to his chest, reading the contents quickly. After seeming to confirm the contents of the ID, the masked man then grabbed him by the collar and rolled him along behind him as they made their way to another trading desk, giving the stool a strong shove with his foot.When the seated man collided into the trading desk, the masked man viciously grabbed his head and knocked it into the table. Myra winced at the unbridled ferocity of his actions, turning away in horror. She slowly turned to look back, however, with morbid curiosity.One of the masked man’s henchmen appeared with a laptop while he inserted the ID card into the terminal. The masked man then turned around and strolled around lazily as if to appraise his reign of terror.The faint sound of approaching sirens could be heard outside, indicating the inevitable arrival of the Gotham police. When their sirens grew louder and louder and finally stopped, it was obvious that there must have been dozens of police vehicles outside ready to react to the attempted heist. Myra had no idea why they would even try and make an attempt on the exchange, given the fact that an escape would be near impossible considering the large police presence. What are they even stealing...? They can't get away with it...idiots... The henchman that was on the laptop turned towards the masked man."They cut the fiber," he said with reluctance before checking his monitor. "Cells working."The masked man was pacing around the floor with his gloved fingers lightly entwined. He then nodded."For now," the masked man said thoughtfully. He continued to pace for a brief moment before gazing upwards."How much longer does the program need?" he said with a thick sense of assertiveness and lack of urgency that surprised Myra given the police presence outside.The henchman looked at his monitor before turning back with a look of resignation."Eight minutes," he said.The masked man turned around and lifted a hand to signal for his men to gather up their things and to ready for their escape."Time to go mobile," was all he said before another henchman ordered everyone up from the ground.They shot into the air with their semi-automatic rifles to inspire haste.Myra observed as the masked man surveyed his frightened audience, most of whom were huddled or lying prone on the floor. He took several casual steps forward, giving the appearance of someone deciding on which pastry to select from the baker’s display window. Myra watched as he pointed his finger at a hostage as if on a whim. His finger pointed straight at her boss."You, and…" he began, his voice trailing off as his eyes darted around for an addition to his selection.His eyes eventually settled on Myra's before they traveled down to her brown blazer.
Please...please...don't pick me. If there is a God, please...don't let them pick me...
Myra quickly averted her gaze to the floor."And you,” he barked, pointing with his gloved finger. Myra looked up hesitantly, chills running up her spine and her heart immediately dropping as she realized that his gloved hand was pointed right at her. Her chest and her lungs began to constrict from fear, being stricken to the point of being unable to even gasp.Myra was quickly hoisted up by his men, her hands bound and placed on the back of the bike of one of the henchmen. She was lucky in that she was allowed to sit forward, but when she looked to her side she saw her boss being positioned so that he was facing backwards with nothing to lean or hold onto. She gave him a frightened look, hoping he would turn towards her and offer her a look of comfort or support but all he did was look around frantically as if he were about to piss himself.There were several other victims that were also used as body shields. They must have been chosen by the henchman, because she saw that they were already on their respective bikes, riding as unwilling passengers. The masked man's men mounted up before ordering everyone else within the exchange to slowly exit the building with their hands up. The masked man snatched his helmet from a frightened novice floor trader, not failing to issue a somewhat polite "thank you" before walking to his own motorcycle and mounting up.The throng of people pushed forward, bottlenecking at the exit to the stock exchange. When about half of them were fully exited from the building, the masked man and his henchmen revved the engines of their motorcycles and surged forward through the crowd. They seemed unconcerned whether they injured anyone by striking them with their motorcycles as they shot forward. People screamed and pushed out of the way to avoid getting run over as the motorcycles buzzed past them. As the motorcycles exited, they immediately turned and used the police barricade ramps to make their escape. The police were obviously flustered, but quickly began their pursuit.Myra had been screaming during the whole ordeal, using her bound hands to clutch the back of the jacket of the man who was driving the motorcycle. Her legs were shaking, and she felt her voice become hoarse from the screaming. She was also shivering. She was not dressed for the bitter climate, particularly if seated on a fast-moving motorcycle with nothing but a blouse, a blazer, a knee-high skirt, stockings and flats.Myra kept turning her head back and forth, making every attempt to take in her surroundings in the event she had to recount the location that they brought her to. Hopefully alive. She watched as the driver of her motorcycle was led by the leader of the group to a darkened tunnel, where they eventually came to a partial stop. When the motorcycles stalled briefly, as if pausing to turn around and observe the chase behind them, Myra turned to her right and saw her boss scramble off of the bike abruptly and make a run for it before anyone could react. He….left me?! She contemplated a similar attempt at hoisting herself off her bike, but her driver made the same observation that she did and revved his clutch on the motorcycle, propelling themselves forward before she could similarly react and jump off.Myra watched as the masked man, who now wore a motorcycle helmet, rode up alongside them and pointed for her driver to exit down into the parking complex, presumably to elude the police. Myra's motorcycle split off from the leader, both making their way to a different entrance to the parking garage. They made their way down a ramp, and down another ramp, and then another until Myra lost count. She eventually assumed they had reached the very bottom of the basement parking complex when there were no more ramps to descend. She observed that the parking garage was abandoned with debris, garbage, and clutter strewn everywhere. They idled for several moments on their motorcycle before she saw the masked man make his way towards them on his, his hostage clearly abandoned. This gave Myra a moderate level of hope. Maybe they will let me go too...? He motioned her driver to follow him as they drove and then parked in front of a closed utility closet. Myra's heart plummeted, fear making it difficult to breathe as she contemplated the ominous insinuations of the situation. The masked man removed his helmet and then unseated himself from his motorcycle, as did her driver. Myra was just on the verge of bolting from her seat in an attempt to escape for her life, but she was quickly grabbed by the arm by her driver. She began screaming, shouting, kicking, and flailing, hoping someone would hear her down there. Her driver seemed unphased, but he did need to use all of his strength to drag her towards the utility closet.Myra's sense of self-preservation continued to go into high alert as they got closer to the utility closet. She made the assumption they were taking her to a remote location to either rape or kill her. She increased her thrashing and screaming in absolute desperation, trying to pull away from the man who held her.Myra startled when the masked man neared them abruptly, taking control of the situation by grabbing her arm aggressively, shaking her firmly before glaring down at her. This, of course, silenced her long enough to give him her attention with a startled expression. Being approached in a threatening manner by an extremely large, muscled man wearing a disturbing mask would undoubtedly have the same effect on most individuals."Harm is not our intention unless you provide the spark. While we initially aimed for a pair of hostages, a singular captive will suffice. Take pleasure in this space, for you are now under my hospitality,” the masked man said with a note of threatening tease.It wasn't lost on Myra, his use of the word 'we' collectively, and the transition to 'my' to assert authority. She swallowed, finding courage before speaking.“And…how long…might that be?” she squeaked out, visibly shaking.The masked man regarded her only briefly before using her arm to jerk her face-first against the closed door of the utility closet. He kept one hand pressed firmly against her back as his other hand roamed over her body loosely, clearly looking for sharp objects, phones, or anything else she might have stored in her pockets, her question remaining unanswered. Myra tried slamming her knees together when she felt his hand invading the region between her legs. He merely kicked her legs apart with the toe of his boot and continued his search unphased, though he did seem to employ a lighter, quicker touch in this region. Regardless, Myra still felt severely uncomfortable and moderately violated.He managed to collect a pen from her pocket, which he took and inserted into his own, as well as a laminated employee ID that had her name and snapshot portrait. He then grabbed her arm again forcefully, opened the door to the utility closet, and pushed her in with an aggressive shove. The utility closet was roughly an 8'x6' room with several sleeping bags in their respective corners and a bucket covered with rags with several rolls of toilet paper in another corner. She also spied a small pile of assorted clothing near the entrance, a brown paper bag, a pair of men's work boots, and a container with plastic bags on top of it. Myra narrowed her eyes, seeing that this plan to bring back hostages was all highly orchestrated.The masked man gave the room a look over before giving a nod as if in approval and then turned to her, ignoring her initial question."Be thankful for your sake we don’t have additional hostages," he eyed her for a moment, his brows furrowed. He then held up her badge to inspect briefly before inserting it into one of his vest pockets. “Do you harbor any health issues or require specific medications?” he asked, giving her a stern look.Myra stared back at him with a startled expression, confused and shocked by his question, clearly speechless for a handful of seconds before finally finding her wits. "N….No...wait…maybe? ….. No…YES! I think…some anxiety…meds…?" she finally said in a questioning, self-doubting tone, finding it difficult to focus or even remember what her own name was, given the situation. The threatening glare she was receiving from him indicated he was someone who undoubtedly would have no problem snubbing out her existence over any perceived misstep, yet here he was, asking if…. if I need a prescription refill? ….did I mishear him? He gave her a nod in affirmation, pleased with the ease in which she provided this information."Very well, Ms. Bell. Enjoy your night," he said in a pleased tone before he turned, exited, and then shut the door with a click. Myra was left in complete darkness..
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Myra stumbled to the door as soon as she heard the click, fumbling around for the light switch. She eventually found it, flicking it on to turn on the singular light source in the closet. It was a long fluorescent tube in the middle of the ceiling. She then began tugging at the door to test whether it was indeed locked. She turned back to look at her tiny room as realization that she was stuck inside the small utility closet sank in. As a…hostage? She looked at the brown paper bag, seeing an assortment of snacks, water bottles, and pre-packed deli sandwiches within its contents. Her eyes then roamed to the sleeping bags, as well as a small pile of assorted clothing. She finally flicked her eyes to the bucket with the toilet paper, and grimaced.After Bane had deposited Myra in her holding room, he made his way to Daggett's personal penthouse where a contingent of his men were waiting for him. His plan was to update Daggett on the Gotham Stock Exchange 'heist' as well as the capture of one of his employees as a hostage so that Daggett could begin coordinating with the police and pressuring them into a deal to exchange Bane's men for Daggett's hostage employee.One additional scenario that the masked man undoubtedly predicted was that several of his men would get captured during police pursuit following the supposed heist. He had only brought men that were absolutely loyal to a fault and wouldn't speak to the police when in custody. Despite this, Bane had every intention of retrieving them from the police as soon as possible.Bane's plan of retrieving his captured men was to be through a coordinated hostage exchange with the help of John Daggett, who had pre-identified several of his employees as appropriate hostages. He had indicated that individuals wearing the brown trading blazers in 'the pit' were employees of his, and they would be appropriate targets. After the hostage capture, it was Bane’s intention for John Daggett to then use his influence to pressure the police into a coordinated hostage exchange for his own employees.When he got to Daggett's penthouse, however, there was a mild level of chaos. Apparently, Selena Kyle had been jilted by Daggett's false promises of a clean slate program that she had hoped to trade for the fingerprints that Bane had used for the Gotham Stock Exchange heist. In addition, the Batman had made an appearance and appeared to be aiding Selena Kyle in her escape attempt on the roof. They were obviously outmatched and outnumbered by Bane's men who were slowly encircling her, ready to strike. Bane made his way to the roof where the action was taking place.When Bane did make it to the roof, however, he caught the tail end of the confrontation. He witnessed Selena Kyle and the Batman running towards the far side of the roof from the door from which Bane had entered the roof. Once they made their way to the edge, the Batman jumped off. Selena Kyle was more reluctant, crouching down and looking back as if gauging her chances of survival between jumping off the roof and confronting Bane and his men. She chose the latter, following Batman off the roof with a hop.Bane sauntered in an unhurried manner towards the edge of the roof where the Batman and Selena Kyle made their jump. He kept his hands clutched to the straps of his vest as he approached the ledge. As he peered down, a large personal militaristic plane with hovering capabilities rose up vertically, flashing its high-powered lights at Bane and the surface area of the roof before zipping off into the night, obviously harboring the Batman and Selena Kyle. Bane observed with a passivity that rivaled bird watching.After watching the flying object disappear into the night, Bane turned towards the frazzled and huffy John Daggett, reacting to the abuse he received from Selena Kyle. Bane stood in front of Daggett, watching him make a spectacle of being disheveled, irritated, and out of breath.Bane said nothing but only stared. After several moments of Daggett's behavior and even looking up to see Bane staring down at him, Daggett calmed down knowing he wasn't going to get any sympathy from Bane over the ordeal."Well?" Bane inquired."That bitch attacked me. She was trying to find the clean slate program, which we obviously don't have," Daggett said with still a hint of exasperation in his voice.Bane regarded him, giving a nod."Leave her to me," Bane said thoughtfully.Several moments passed before he proceeded on to the next topic on the agenda."It went according to plan. We’ve managed to secure one of your precious Daggett Industries workers. It now falls on you to employ your charm on the Gotham Police to ensure my men are returned. I anticipate you’ll keep me informed of any developments involving the authorities on this matter?" Bane questioned, laced with a hint of threat.The look that Bane gave John Daggett indicated he was only willing to accept one answer to his question.Daggett slowly began to nod, his eyes searching as if calculating the situation. He looked back to Bane, his eyebrows raised."You only have one? I thought the plan was for two, at the least? How many of your men were captured?" Daggett whined, clearly calculating the metaphorical hoops he would have to go through with convincing the authorities to trade all of Bane’s captured men for one single person.Bane returned his gaze, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly in irritation. He took a slight step towards Daggett. He allowed for several moments to pass between them to generate an appropriate amount of tension. Bane then turned his head off to the side and looked back over his shoulder at Barsad, his second-in-command. Barsad knew what information Bane wanted without even asking."Two captured, sir," Barsad replied quickly and quietly, his eyes fixed on Daggett in a seemingly lazy and casual manner. Barsad was anything but lazy and casual, however.Bane turned back to Daggett."Two of my men were captured in the ordeal. I hope this won't be a problem for you?" Bane asked, his voice rising just slightly with a subtle note of intimidation intertwined in his words.Daggett only stared back at him, processing the information. Of course it would be difficult to coordinate a hostage exchange with the police involving two of Bane's men for only one hostage. He swallowed nervously, trying not to let his anxiety show. He nodded after several moments."I can do it," he said with questionable confidence."Excellent," Bane barked immediately before turning around and exiting Daggett's roof, his men in tow.Before Bane fully exited the roof, and after Daggett had time to internally process and play out possible scenarios of the situation, he called after Bane."It would be more compelling if there was video evidence of the hostage in captivity," Daggett said loudly with a hint of ruthless slime in his voice."That can be arranged," Bane replied without turning around or breaking his stride as he exited the penthouse.The following morning, Bane and Barsad prepared for the video that Daggett requested. They made their way down a considerable length of passage in the maze of underground outflow systems below the streets of Gotham, where Bane and his men had set up their base. This location provided secrecy, privacy, and discrete access to various portions of Gotham. It also provided an almost unlimited supply of space.Bane and Barsad came to a rusty metal vertical ladder that led to a manhole. They both climbed it, pushing aside the manhole as they made it to the top. Once out, it was only a few blocks to the underground garage that Myra was kept. They made sure they weren't seen as they made their way out of the manhole and into the building. It most undoubtedly would be a very suspicious spectacle if they were spotted.Barsad carried a tripod and a cheap home video camera in a bag over his shoulder as they walked down the abandoned underground parking lot. Bane carried a large brown paper bag. They paused outside the utility closet door as Bane inserted the key to unlock it. He returned the key to a pouch on his chest and slowly opened the door.When Myra heard the lock to the door being adjusted, she sprang to her feet immediately. She positioned herself to be ready to barrel her way out of the room with all of the strength she could muster as soon as she saw the door crack open. When it did, adrenaline surged through her and propelled her movement forward.Myra was shocked when her shoulder rebounded off of another body, and even more shocked when she managed to spring forward several feet outside the door with no impedance. She immediately began screaming as she sprinted forward, hoping her voice would resonate through the levels of the parking garage and someone on the outside would hear her cries. However, she had been shouting and screaming intermittently throughout the whole night and unfortunately her damaged voice had dwindled down to a very hoarse tone that didn’t carry as far as she had planned.Her hopes were summarily dashed, however, when she felt a very large hand grip her by her upper arm. That same hand effortlessly pulled her back with a massive yank that threatened to dislocate her shoulder. She felt another equally large, calloused hand cover her mouth to stifle her screams. She then felt her body being physically dragged and directed back towards the utility closet room with a non-too-gentle shove that left her sprawled on the floor on her hands and knees. She quickly scrambled back onto her feet to turn around just in time to see a disagreeable-looking masked man flanked by a sheepish-looking one closing the door behind them. They both stared at her.Myra quickly sprang to her feet, made easier by replacing her skirt with a pair of light gray sweatpants she had found in the small pile of clothing near the door. She quickly wiped her hair out of her eyes, letting out a ragged breath. She returned their stares for several seconds but eventually felt compelled to avert her gaze awkwardly. Myra’s complexion and eyes clearly illustrated her lack of sleep and state of mind. She had deeper bags than usual under her eyes after presumably staying up all night half-expecting someone to enter her room at any second to kill or assault her. The time she wasn’t thinking about being killed or assaulted was time used to figure out what to do when someone finally opened the door. That plan had obviously failed.Barsad set the bag and the tripod down before walking over to the human waste bucket unabashedly, picking it up and exiting the room to dispose of the contents. This left Bane and Myra alone. Myra watched Barsad's back as he left, and then snapped back to Bane. Bane simply regarded her, his brows furrowed in apparent agitation over her attempt at fleeing. He took several slow strides in her direction. For every step he took, Myra took one step back until eventually her back hit the wall. Bane didn’t stop until he was directly in front of her. He brought a hand up, to which Myra immediately flinched away from. Bane pointed a finger at her menacingly.“Let this be the last time I extend a warning. There will be no leniency moving forward. Are we to have any more problems with you, Ms. Bell?” Bane asked cautiously, his voice and eyes steely. His finger was mere inches away from the tip of her nose.Myra could only briefly return his stare before quickly averting her gaze to the corner, trying to rotate her body away from. She was repulsed by his mask, size, and lifestyle choices. Her face burned red from the threat she sensed in his tone. She knew her voice would only come out in a hoarse squeak, so she merely shook her head to confirm that no, there would be no more trouble from her. Bane regarded her briefly before nodding his head.“Excellent,” he said, before taking a step back to motion towards the tripod and camera bag on the floor."We are here to capture a video recording to indicate your state of wellbeing," Bane said matter-of-factly and in a jovial tone, a marked shift from the sharpness employed earlier in his threats to her.Myra eyed him, picking up on the tone and mannerism shift. She couldn’t help but ponder how truly strange he was. His accent was peculiar to her, his tone authoritative, but it also masked a level of intelligence that she saw seeping through with his choice of verbiage and sentence structure. She immediately understood that whatever she may try to plan for escaping this place, he was two steps ahead of her. She was playing checkers while he played 3D chess. There was nothing she could do but comply. With that realization, she slowly, albeit hesitantly, nodded.Bane mirrored her nod, pleased with her compliant attitude."Good," he said curtly, as Barsad came back in with a cleaned-out-bucket that Myra had used as a make-shift toilet.Bane then motioned for Barsad to set up the video equipment in the corner. Once the equipment was properly arranged, he pointed to the floor in the center of the room for Myra to sit, up against the wall. She complied, moving to the designated spot, sitting down and bringing her knees up to chest. She then stared directly into the camera lens. Barsad turned the camera on."State your name. Clearly" Bane directed from behind the camera.Myra’s eyes darted briefly around the room before finding their way back to the lens of the camera."Myra Bell," Myra said shyly."Why are you here, Ms. Bell?" Bane inquired."I was taken against my will from the Gotham Stock Exchange," Myra proceeded, her voice hitching slightly.Bane continued."Who is your employer?" he asked.Myra had to take a second to consider the question as if caught unawares, finding the question odd. She then answered."John Daggett. Daggett Industries," she said, directing her voice to the camera.Bane nodded from behind the camera before making one final statement to the camera."Law enforcement holds two of my comrades. I require their release in exchange for Myra Bell. Consider her life forfeit if you do not comply,” Bane said sharply.With that, Bane turned off the camera.Myra looked around awkwardly, processing the insinuation that she might possibly die if the police don't follow through with the masked man's demands. Worry and fear spread across her features. She swallowed. Would the police say ‘no’? What do they do in these kinds of hostage situations? Do they negotiate? Bane picked up on the concerned expression spreading across her face before letting his hand wave briefly but dismissively in her direction."I have faith in the Gotham Police's integrity and their correct handling of this matter. I don't anticipate you being here for more than a few days," Bane said, his tone sounding bored.Myra’s eyes wandered back to his as he made this declaration, her mind easing somewhat. She slowly relaxed and dropped her shoulders, bringing her hands to her knee caps and rubbing them idly before using them to leverage herself up into a standing position. She leaned back against the wall, watching the two men pack up and make their exit. Bane turned back and regarded her briefly, seeing her tired and anxiety-riddled expression. This must have reminded him of something, for he immediately bent down to dig in the large camera bag to retrieve a brown paper bag. He held it out for Myra to take, which she walked forward and retrieved hesitantly.“More nourishment, water, as well as a tablet of hydroxyzine,” he said courteously. Myra eyed him suspiciously.“....hydroxyzine?” she asked, confused.Bane stared down at her, his brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and mild annoyance.“You had requested anxiety medication,” he said flatly. Myra thought he sounded like he was talking to the daftest person on the planet. She gave a mild scowl, scratching the side of her arm briefly before nodding.“Ah..ahhhh..yes, that’s right. Thank…you,” she replied awkwardly, inspecting the contents of the bag curiously.She found a small zippable plastic bag with a single pill located inside between a bottle of water and another deli sandwich. She tore the plastic with her teeth, not even bothering with the zipper. She then popped the pill into her mouth and washed it down with water before deciding to have second thoughts about taking medication from a complete stranger. Medication she hadn’t taken before, no less. Medication she wasn’t even sure was correct or safe, or as they said it was. She figured, considering the complete lack of sleep she had the night prior, as well as the heightened level of anxiety she was feeling due to her current predicament, self-prescribing didn’t sound like a terrible idea. She also figured her captors would want to keep her relaxed and feeling safe so as not to cause additional trouble. She hoped she wasn’t mistaken.Bane continued to observe her, nodding when she swallowed the pill. He then made his way to the exit, not saying another word.With that, he shut the door and locked it.Upon the exit of the masked man and his accomplice, Myra diverted her attention to the rest of the contents in the brown paper bag. She made her way to the corner that held her sleeping bag, sat down, and tentatively pulled out the sandwich. She unwrapped the plastic wrap carefully, examined the sandwich, grimaced, and then took a gentle bite. She took her time chewing, rotating the sandwich in her hands as she tried willing her mind from focusing on the predicament of her situation. She was unsuccessful.
Okay. It’s only been a few days. Pull it together. It could be worse. The guy wearing the mask made it seem like they were going to try and get me out as soon as possible, after negotiating with the police? Isn’t that usually pretty quick? At least…they are feeding me…they also let me request medication? That means they can’t possibly intend to kill me. Why bother with that charade, otherwise? These sleeping bags are also incredibly uncomfortable…especially on this stupid concrete. I can barely get to sleep in normal conditions. I don’t even think I’ve been able to sleep longer than a few hours at a time. It is also starting to stink in here…
Myra’s eyes darted to the bucket that held her waste. I’m just….why me? What did I do to deserve this? Was it because I cut that person off in that parking lot last week? No…this isn’t equatable karma. Myra squirmed a bit as her mind raced to figure out what deed she might have done that the universe deemed punishable by kidnapping. She could only think of general instances pertaining to not trying hard enough, not appreciating things as well as she could, and not enjoying life to the fullest. If I get out of here…I swear I’ll do better. I’ll stop complaining about my job. I’ll start trying new things…maybe make actual friends. Tears suddenly spawned out of the corner of her eyes as she contemplated her state in life. She then lowered her body down to curl up inside her sleeping bag like a caterpillar in a cocoon. She wasn't tired but chose to attempt to sleep to escape the torture of her mind. The fact that she wasn’t tired made this exercise excruciating, so she diverted to idly counting the little crater imperfections in the cement walls. She repeated the process once she made it all the way around the room. She made it around the room 6 times before she finally fell into a fitful, restless sleep.When Myra woke up a handful of hours later, she got out of her sleeping bag and stretched, deciding that pacing around the room was an adequate past-time. Being a small room, she grew tired of this immediately. She decided to go back and sit down on her sleeping bag and resume counting the small indentations in the cement wall again. Her mind began to wander halfway through this task to focus on the ‘heist’ that she had witnessed and was indirectly involved in via kidnapping.I wonder…what they were doing? What did they steal? Was it worth a man’s life for? Why that day? What is their motive? How many of them are there? How long have they been here for? Why hasn’t anyone stopped them? Why hasn’t anyone found me? Couldn’t they trace where they went after leaving the Gotham Stock Exchange? Who…is that masked man? Myra’s mind fixated on him. She drew up an image of him in her mind, mask and all. She pondered his use of a mask, his size, and his accent.He’s probably not from around here…his accent is so…peculiar. Why does he wear that mask? Is it an intimidation tactic? Is he hiding something? Does it give him strength? He seems unusually strong…even for his size. Who is he? Who IS he? What kind of person does this? Myra continued to ponder the intent and purpose of the 'heist' that she witnessed, as well as those involved, but she couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly (and successfully) rob a stock exchange on top of taking hostages. Their plan wasn't flippant either; it had been orchestrated, because Myra knew fingerprints were used to access information in the trading desk. She felt like even doing that would be futile depending on who they 'stole' from, because that individual could just declare fraud and eventually have their funds redistributed back into their account. It confused her, and it was a puzzle she couldn't work out.After a countless amount of time pondering these issues, Myra returned to counting the indents on the cement wall, making it around 14 times before she was finally able to fall asleep for another few hours.Myra was startled awake by the sound of the lock on the door releasing. She sat up sluggishly from her sleeping bag, eying the door. She couldn’t tell if her lethargy was due to the fact that it had been more than just a handful of hours since she fell asleep and it was now the following day, or the anxiety medication she was taking was starting to take effect. Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open, and a man entering the room.This man was neither the masked man nor the accomplice she saw the day prior, but someone new. As he opened the door and looked around the interior of the closet, it was obvious he hadn't seen the hostage set-up yet. He turned to look at Myra with curiosity, a grin spreading across his face.It made Myra immediately uncomfortable.She continued to stay seated in the corner as he walked in, bent down, and put a plate of food on the ground in front of her before straightening his back and looking at her as if expecting a 'thank you'. All she did was stare back at him. He gave her a smirk, slowly turning around before exiting.Myra looked at the plate of food with skepticism. It consisted of mashed potatoes that looked like they were prepared from a large giant pot, some pathetic looking small baby carrots, a red apple with bruises all over it, a cheese sandwich, a water bottle, and a singular pill that was undoubtedly the hydroxyzine. She grimaced, but ate the cheese sandwich hungrily first, not having eaten since the day before. She then ate the rest of the food more hesitantly, noting the lack of food utensils to eat the mashed potatoes. She smooshed them together with her fingertips instead and fed them into her mouth like a cave troll. She washed it all down with the hydroxyzine pill and the bottle of water, wishing there was more.This routine of sleeping restlessly, pacing, being brought a basic plate of food, thinking about her captors and what their intent was, and whether someone was going to come in while she was sleeping and stab her went on for 1, 2, 3, and finally 4 additional days. She never saw the masked man or his accomplice during that time, but saw the same individual bringing her the food. Each time he seemed somewhat more adventurous in his attempts to draw her attention. She didn't humor him, and she could tell it moderately irritated him. I wonder if he spits in my food before he gives it to me. She observed an increase in her lethargy day after day, not knowing if it was due to the inactivity of her mind or body, her confinement, startling awake intermittently during her sleep from any minor noise, or the medication she was taking. She also felt the increased need for a shower or a bath, feeling as if a coat of grease and stink covered her skin, clothes, and hair. She knew her mind had been spiraling with irritability, anxiety, and restlessness when she first arrived, but now her thoughts were just a muddled cloud. She was disturbed to find that she started to care less and less about the days slipping by, and just accepted her new existence in the utility closet as the new ‘norm’.Bane was acutely aware of how many days had passed since Myra was initially brought in as a hostage. Because of this, he made a point to give John Daggett a visit to amplify pressure for him to get the situation resolved quickly. Bane did not care for harboring unnecessary hostages in his care. He already had the care of Dr. Parvel, a nuclear physicist, under his watch. He had no desire to add to that tally. Dr. Parvel’s fate was already sealed. Myra Bell’s was not. When he confronted Daggett about it, however, Daggett seemed flustered and ready to deflect blame onto the police."They aren't too happy about the two-for-one deal…I'm pressuring them as much as I can, but they are dragging their feet. There is nothing I can do!" Daggett said with whining frustration.Bane regarded him, his fists clenched against the collar of his jacket."Certainly, there are things you can do to accelerate the situation," Bane said with a threatening undertone.Daggett didn't like to be tested or challenged from an authoritative level, so he glared back at Bane after finding courage."I'm doing what I can. I'll let you know if there is an update," Daggett said irritably.Bane stared at him, not speaking. He gave Daggett a visual look-over, before turning to exit with the men that had escorted him to Daggett's penthouse. They returned back to their base in the underground water reflow system.The new indeterminate amount of time concerning how long he was to keep the hostage meant Bane had to rework some aspects of his plan and schedule, which he was less than thrilled to do. He knew what it was like to be in solitary confinement in a small room with nothing to do or to keep the mind occupied. He decided he would need to accommodate her situation so that she was a bit more comfortable since her stay now seemed to be for an indeterminate amount of time. In his experience, an individual desired control of the uncontrollable above all else. In the instance of involuntary confinement with no clear timeline, that control or freedom could come in the form of suicide. He wasn’t yet prepared to jeopardize the imminent return of two capable men, which would undoubtedly happen if Myra died under his care.Myra discovered this heightened desire to keep her comfortable and mentally stimulated in a rather abrupt fashion. She jolted awake from an uncomfortable sleeping position just in time to see the unknown man who had been providing her meals open the door to the utility closet. She then observed as he deposited a large bag onto the floor by the wall, along with the typical plate of assorted food, water, and anti-anxiety medication. He made no effort for small talk, but she did feel his eyes rake over her body slowly as moved to the bucket of waste, grabbed it, and exited outside. He came back a minute later, replacing the bucket, before closing the door behind him and locking the door. This left Myra stunned, staring at the bag, wondering what the contents might be.Ignoring the food, despite looking particularly appetizing and arrayed in an aesthetically pleasing manner, her curiosity dictated that she get up sluggishly to examine the bag. She had to make an effort to maintain her balance as she knelt down and dug through the contents of the bag. Upon opening it, she discovered a handful of books. The first one was a very old copy of “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens. The second was “The Count of Monte Cristo” by Alexandre Dumas that looked like it had been submerged in water at one point. The last book was a dirty copy of “Pollyanna” by Eleanor H. Porter. She pondered whether these were specifically curated selections for her reading enjoyment and pleasure, or if they had been haphazardly picked. She found the themes of her current predicament mirroring those found in the books she held in her hands to be too much of a coincidence to be random.At the very bottom of the bag was a pillow. It looked old and used, but at least it was something that could hopefully increase her comfort, particularly as she currently lacked a pillow and had no other place to read but on the cement floor.What she really wanted, however, was a fresh set of clothes. She had since removed her Daggett Industries blazer and blouse and replaced it with an oversized graphic t-shirt that had been found in the small pile near the entrance. By now, though, the t-shirt was starting to produce a certain ‘aroma’. She also knew she was due to have her period any day, and dreaded the use of wadded-up toilet paper as her sanitary solution. She made a mental note to jot these requests down and bring them up next time the opportunity presented itself.Before she dug into the reading material, she ate the food that was on her plate. She washed it down with the medicine and water. After this, she vegetated in the corner for several moments, feeling lightheaded and drowsy. She stared down at her hands for a few minutes, her mind clouded and muggy. She then grabbed the copy of “The Count of Monte Cristo”. She opened it up to the first page and squinted. She was having an absurdly difficult time reading and concentrating on the text in front of her. She tried reading several more lines but surrendered. The book dropped from her hands and slid sideways onto her sleeping bag, passing out a few minutes later in another fit of restless, uncomfortable sleep.Myra awoke abruptly to the sound of a door slamming. She opened her eyes, blinking furiously to clear the blurriness. She could make out the distinct silhouette of a person in the room with her. She fumbled to sit up, her legs feeling tingly and restless, but managed to stumble to a standing position. She used the wall for stabilization as she made another attempt at identifying the person.The silhouetted shadow approached her, stopping right in front of her. Myra startled when she felt a hand brush against her arm before clamping down on it, holding her still.She didn’t know where her energy went, or why the alarm bells in her head weren’t fueling her fight-or-flight response, but she felt drained. She was desperately searching for the vat of energy that pertained to self-preservation in her mind, but all she found was darkness. She continued to squint, finally making eye contact with the person in front of her. She realized it was the nameless man that had been providing her meals. She had half-expected to see the mustled mask man or even his other accomplice, but not this person. Confusion plagued her mind as she felt the man lean closer.Myra tried to shy away but felt helpless when she felt foreign lips pressing against hers. She wanted to gag when she felt a hand grasp her breast, giving it a harsh squeeze. She could barely manage to remain upright, let alone fight the intrusive actions from this man in front of her. Myra decided the best action was to shut her eyes and let her muddled mind disperse to all corners of her consciousness.She had closed her eyes for just mere seconds when she felt the lips of the man being torn from hers. She also felt the grip he had on her arm release, though the grip nearly took her with it, causing her to stumble sideways. A different, much larger hand caught her by the arm before her balance faltered, another hand steadying her in place. The hands gently but firmly propped her against the wall. Once stable, she felt one of the hands release hold from her arm. She then felt a hand tenderly cup the side of her face, followed by the pad of a thumb gently pressed against her eyelid, lifting it up to fully expose her eye and pupil for investigation.“She’s been drugged,” the masked man seethed out, removing his hand from her face.Myra looked up at him, the feeling of confusion overwhelming her. She could barely make out his features, but knew it was him based on his voice and the dark blur that obscured a portion of his face. She slowly realized that he was speaking to another person in the room. Myra rotated her head slowly and saw the accomplice of the masked man holding the intruder.“Search him,” the masked man ordered, still keeping a firm hold on Myra.Barsad made quick work to pat down and rummage through the pockets of the man who had been providing meals and removing the waste from the waste bucket for Myra the past several weeks. The man held still, his arms lifted up, complying to the search with a bored expression. Barsad retrieved an orange bottle of pills found in his pants pocket. He tossed it to Bane, who already had his hand out expectantly to catch it.Bane examined the contents of the pills, rotating the bottle slowly in an attempt to identify the drug within the bottle. Seeing no clear indicators on the bottle itself or markings on the tablets, Bane tossed the bottle back to Barsad.“Discard these along with his body,” Bane ordered to Barsad.The man being held by Barsad was a second too late in realizing the intent in Bane’s words. Realization spread across his face as Barsad hit him over the head with the buttstock of a gun he now held in his hand. The man fell limp to the floor with a soft thud. Barsad took the sleeve of the man and used it as a grip to begin dragging him out of the utility closet.Myra started to struggle uselessly sluggishly after witnessing the man being bludgeoned to the ground, not knowing if she was about to receive a similar fate. Bane, however, held her in place by keeping a firm hold on her arms, which wasn’t difficult considering her drugged state. He analyzed her briefly, his eyes inspecting her features, clearly intent on identifying any injury or markings. Seeing only the dark circles under her eye and dilated pupils, he then assisted her into a sitting position on the cement floor on top of her sleeping bag and pillow.“Our local brethren continue to inspire us with their quality,” Bane muttered almost to himself in an exaggerated tone of disappointment, though it was obvious the comment was directed at Barsad. Barsad grunted in agreement just as he fully exited the room, the bludgeoned man in tow. Myra just stared at Bane in confusion, clearly not understanding the reference.What Myra didn’t know was that the masked man and the men he led in Gotham were two different groups. The first group was composed of men that had been faithful to Bane and his cause for the majority of his career as a mercenary, particularly during the part of his life where he expanded his rule and dominance through terroristic efforts across the globe after being ousted from the League of Shadows. They were technically and lethally proficient. They were well trained. These men tended to be multicultural and foreign, as Bane was. They were molded by a similar environment, ideals, and upbringing. They also would, without hesitation, die for their beliefs as well as for each other. Due to the massive endeavor that Bane had planned, however, he needed to establish a second group of men. This group was composed of men almost exclusively from Gotham. They tended to be thugs, gangsters, or criminals who knew the ins-and-out of Gotham, but had very little combat training or technical acumen. These men were also not privy to the true intent of Bane and his occupation of Gotham. Instead, they were fed with ideals of overturning the elite by taking over Gotham, pillaging for riches, and shirking general law and order. Bane had very little regard for these men and their greedy need for wealth, power, and riches, and therefore generally relegated them to laborious or tedious duties. Delivering food to Myra and emptying out her waste bucket was one example of these sorts of duties. Bane had also regarded this second group of men as extremely disposable, and he had far less patience with their infractions. This was evident by the growing piling of discarded bodies that had been washing up at various points of the water outflow, which is where the man that Barsad was slowly dragging would soon end up.Myra continued to gaze at the man in front of her who wore the strange and frightening mask until she could no longer hold herself upright. Her body slowly fell sideways onto the sleeping bag, which Bane assisted with by keeping a hand on her shoulder and easing her down gently. Once her head felt the softness of the pillow, her mind went dark.When Myra woke up, she felt lightheaded and disoriented. She also felt a strange tightness on her left wrist. Before opening her eyes, she went to inspect the tightness with her other hand. She was blocked, however, when she felt another hand grab her by the wrist to stop the inspection. Her eyes immediately shot open.“Leave it be,” she heard the masked man mutter.Myra’s eyes rolled to her wrist, and observed a peripheral IV line inserted there. It was held securely by white medical tape. She saw the long line attached to an IV bag that was hung up on the ceiling, hooked onto the light fixture. The IV bag appeared to contain clear liquid that was going directly into her wrist, into her veins, and presumably to the rest of her body through her circulatory system.Myra must have had confusion written all over her face at the spectacle, for Bane spoke up after her observation.“You were drugged. That will clear your system,” he said with very little bedside manner.Myra had so many questions, but all she could let out was a light groan as a headache started to form. She slowly eased herself upright into a sitting position, massaging her head as she did so. She closed her eyes and then opened them again in an attempt to clear her vision. She finally turned to observe the masked man.She saw him sitting against the wall next to her, one knee bent as he sat. She saw a book held open in the hand that presumably wasn’t used to stop her from disturbing her IV. She stared for several long moments, letting her thoughts clear, unsure of what to say. She saw him eventually hold the book back up and resume reading. It was the copy of ‘Pollyanna’ by Eleanor H. Porter that had been placed in the utility closet for her to presumably read and pass the time. Not being of clear or sound mind or having a proper filter in place quite yet due to her lethargy and recovering semi-drugged state, she decided now was a good time to point out a personal observation.“I’ve…only ever seen the movie,” Myra managed to squeak out, her voice feeling crispy, agitated, and unused. She cleared her throat quickly.The masked man looked up at her mid-read, analyzing her curiously.“Hm?” was all he muttered, waiting for clarification.Myra turned away from his intimidating focus, diverting her gaze to the floor in front of her.“Pollyanna…there was an old movie that came out that I used to watch with my mom before she passed. I didn’t even know there was a book that it was based on,” Myra clarified, her mind gaining focus and slowly realizing the ridiculous nature of the comment and need to point out the observation. She also felt like the filter that was usually in place to moderate her speech and need to communicate was faulty.“There’s a film?” the masked man asked with a moderate amount of surprise and intrigue.Myra wasn’t sure if he was either humoring her, feigning interest, or being sarcastic. Myra’s features instinctively soured at the perceived slight.“Yes…there’s a movie. Where did you grow up, a hole?” She retorted sassily with a side-eye, her sense of self-preservation and potential imminent danger due to the sassy slight made against a known killer still catching up with her as her mind struggled to clear and reinstate her verbal filter.Bane stared at her, putting his book down against his bent knee. He didn’t respond, but instead just held a stern, but pensive expression. Myra quickly looked away again, finding sudden fascination in the state of her fingernails. She furrowed her brows, feeling his intense stare digging a hole into the side of her head. Her mind must have finally cleared, for she seemed to find new-found clarity and understanding of her current situation. Particularly the part where she was drugged and almost sexually assaulted against her will in a small cement closet at the bottom of a parking complex. She put her hands down firmly into her lap, wringing them gently. Then, without warning, tears started to stream down her face.“When will you let me go? Is no one…trying to get me out?” she asked softly, her vision blurry with tears.She didn’t turn to look at him, knowing she wasn’t going to find a sympathetic ear from her captor. She did know, however, that the longer she stayed here, the likelihood that she could become seriously injured or die exponentially increased. She had thought she would have been let out days ago, based on the conversation she had with the masked man early on during her captivity. Was it all…. a lie? Hearing no response but the periodic rasp of the masked man’s breathing through his mask, Myra fell down into a fetal position on the sleeping bag. She wrapped one arm around her knees, and used the other arm to curl around her pillow. She focused on the IV bag hanging from the ceiling. It was halfway empty. She then adjusted her wrist in a comfortable position so that the IV wasn’t digging into her flesh. How much longer do I need to wear this? With the only sound being the mechanical breathing from the masked man and the periodic ‘drip’ coming from the IV bag, she finally felt compelled enough to try and go back into a restless sleep. After several moments of her head resting on the pillow, however, she heard the masked man shuffling the pages of the book he held in his hand briefly. She then heard him speak.“Chapter 1. Miss Polly. Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning. Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements; she specially prided herself on her repose of manner. But to-day she was hurrying - actually hurrying,” he said, emphasizing the words to bring life to the narrative of the story.Myra slowly opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling. She quickly realized the masked man was reading the book from the beginning. Is he…reading to me?! Her mind did mental gymnastics to decipher why she was being shown sudden courtesy. She figured it may have to do with the ‘drugging’, as well as the fact that it seemed the intent of her captors to not keep her alone while she was being treated with an IV. She couldn’t figure out why, since she assumed it was at least another few hours before the IV bag was depleted. Her thoughts eventually made it back to the sound of the masked man’s voice narrating the book. At least his voice is…interesting….and charming to listen to…where is his accent from? He should narrate books professionally. He’s very good at it. “You…have an interesting voice,” Myra muttered out shyly as he paused to turn a page, clear in her enunciation that ‘interesting’ wasn’t a subtle jab at ‘unusual or bizarre’ but rather ‘full of character and perhaps a bit charming, in a dark mysterious sort of way’. It was also very clear she was outside of her comfort zone by even verbally making the observation, particularly to someone she had every right to loathe and say nothing but foul, impolite things to. Whether Bane heard her or not, she wasn’t sure, for he simply kept reading the next page unimpeded. Myra closed her eyes again, intent on following along the narrated journey of Pollyanna through the first few chapters but found herself surrendering to sleep once again.When Myra woke several hours later, her first realization was that her IV was gone. The second thing she noticed was the masked man was also gone. She then realized some additions to the room. The first one was a blanket which had been draped over her while she slept as well as a card table, two folding chairs, a few stacks of jigsaw puzzles, and a deck of playing cards. She also saw a brown paper bag placed on the card table, which she discovered contained deli sandwiches, snacks, and water. She noticed the notable absence of medication, which she probably wouldn’t have taken anyway, given the situation. She quickly devoured the sandwiches, feeling famished. She sat at the table as she ate, feeling so good to finally sit off of the concrete floor for once. The chairs were cheap and foldable, so they weren’t exactly ergonomic, but she still let out a loud sigh as she eased into one.After eating her food and drinking several bottles of water, she decided to attempt one of the jigsaw puzzles. She chose an old one called “Hometown Collection” which featured a painting of cable cars, horses, and people in the snow. The puzzle box appeared to have been used many times before, and she didn’t doubt that there would probably be a few pieces missing.It had been years since Myra had taken the time to sit down and do a puzzle, and she was no expert, so she didn’t have a formula for how to complete them, such as doing the bounding outline first. She simply organized the pieces according to color and hoped to find like-colored pieces that fit together.Myra chipped away at the puzzle for several hours before tiring of the activity and decided to deviate to reading. She chose the copy of ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ by Charles Dickens. She read for what felt like hours before she eventually settled the book back down after notching her spot in the book. She then settled back onto her sleeping bag and fell into an uncomfortable, fitful sleep. She woke up several times to use the make-shift toilet, but did manage to get back to sleep eventually.The following day as Myra was working on the puzzle, she heard the door unlock. She instinctively sprang to her feet, remembrance of the man coming in to drug and assault her still fresh in her mind despite the actual experience still being an abstract fuzzy encounter in her head. She picked up the folding chair like a weapon, waiting with anticipation as the door slowly swung open.The masked man entered, carrying a tray of fresh food in his hand and a few bottles of water under his arm. He immediately focused on her and her defensive stance, eyeing the chair with what Myra perceived as mild humor, before placing the food and water on the table in front of her. He then grabbed her waste bucket, exiting briefly to deposit and clean of its contents, before re-entering to settle down into the other folding chair at the other end of the card table.“Put that down, please,” he said politely, his tone casual. He very clearly seemed more mildly annoyed than threatened at Myra’s ‘weapon’ as his eyes focused on the progress Myra had made on the puzzle.Myra slowly lowered the chair to the ground, her cheeks burning in mild embarrassment. She stood there for several moments before finally taking a seat in the chair across from him. The card table wasn’t particularly large, so their knees nearly touched due to Bane’s size and the length of his legs as Myra adjusted herself in her seat. Myra then focused on the fresh meal in front of her. She immediately dug in.Bane observed her eating for several moments before he diverted his attention to idly picking away at completing the puzzle in front of him. Once Myra was complete with her meal, she joined him. They sat in silence while they slowly formed the image pictured on the box. Myra observed that Bane seemed remarkably faster than she was. For every one piece she managed to find a mate to, he had already completed 10.Myra found that her nerves had lost her, and she wasn’t quite able to spout out the slew of questions that had been boiling over in her head. She wasn’t sure what the ramifications would be of breaking the silence and inundating him with inquiries about when she will be released, why hasn’t she been released yet, and so forth. So instead, she maintained a nervous silence, mentally berating her cowardice. Despite her internal verbal abuse, she found the act of completing a puzzle with someone else to be wholly relaxing. She also couldn’t recall if she had actually done anything like it before, if she were honest with herself.Before long, the puzzle had been completed, save for a handful of pieces that appeared to be missing. They both stared at the puzzle before Bane abruptly sat up from his chair. He then made work of breaking up the puzzle and depositing the pieces into the box, closing it up. Holding it under his arm, he made his way to the exit.“Fresh ones will be brought to you tomorrow. Sleep well,” he told her before he exited the room, locking the door behind him.Myra stared, perplexed at the casual encounter that just took place. Did…I… just work on a puzzle…. with a terrorist…and like it? I mean, I did make myself promise to enjoy things more if I survived this...I didn't think that would actually work though....She sat that way, pondering about the interaction before she eventually made her way to her sleeping bag, sat down, and began reading the rest of ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ before she felt compelled to sleep once again.The following day, it was Barsad who opened the room and brought her a meal. He gave her a very bored glance before placing the food in front of her on the table. Upon seeing him, Myra realized that she wouldn’t have to fear a similar encounter occurring involving a subordinate wanting to take advantage of her sexually. The only thing Barsad seemed interested in at the moment was cleaning out her waste bucket before making his way to the old deck of cards on the table, which he opened and began to shuffle. This eased her mind considerably. She also made a mental note to make sure to try and enjoy herself, believing that if she broke the promise to herself, she would end up dead on the spot. As Myra pecked away at her food, she looked up at Barsad, a question forming on her lips that had been nagging at her mind."What's your boss's name?" Myra asked Barsad around a mouthful of food, watching as he continued to shuffle the playing cards multiple times. She, of course, had made the assumption that the masked man was the ‘boss’ based on the way he gave orders and carried himself.Barsad lifted his eyebrows as if in mild shock or amusement. He then gave her a look as if she were an idiot with what Myra would soon regard as his ‘his signature lazy glare’."Bane," he said, resuming his shuffling.Up to that point, Myra had referred to Bane internally as 'the masked man'. She paused briefly, letting her eyebrows scrunch together as if contemplating that name."Bane? Bane?" she asked incredulously, not sure if she believed it.Barsad’s attention didn’t stray from his cards, bored with the question and nodding."Where did he come up with that?" Myra then asked, curiosity thick in her voice."Ask him," Barsad said passively. “Poker?” he then suggested before distributing the cards between them, not caring that she hadn’t quite finished her meal.As she watched him distribute the cards, she realized she hadn’t even asked him what his name was. Rude! She just kept referring to him as ‘the accomplice’. She decided to remedy that, now that it was clear that their names weren’t necessarily secret after giving away Bane’s.“What's…your name?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t going to deem her as being rude for not asking earlier. Why do you even care if he thinks you are rude?! You are a hostage!!!“Barsad”, he said in a bored tone, his focus clearly still on the deck of cards.Myra immediately got the impression that Barsad was given instruction to stay in the utility closet for a set amount of time based on the focused, expedited nature of his task. He also seemed to be exuding an attitude that indicated he very clearly wanted to attend to other things. Myra loved this notion, not knowing if it was entirely true, but clung to the idea nonetheless. Instinctively, the concept of playing card and board games with her captors sounded revolting, but the notion that he wasn’t there for his own enjoyment helped ease this sentiment a bit. She knew she had to validate this hypothesis of whether this was for her benefit, or for his, to essentially ‘keep her company’.“Punished to babysitting duty, eh, Barsad?” Myra teased, taking the cards in her hands, clearly fishing out for the answer.Barsad must not have picked up on the fishing attempt, for his eyes gave him away immediately when he looked up at her with a mildly annoyed, seething expression before averting his gaze back down to the card table. Myra suppressed a smile.“Draw,” he said quietly, frustration lacing his features. He then proceeded to deposit several of his cards and replace them with new ones. Myra covered her growing smirk with her cards.While Myra certainly didn’t have any way to keep track of time, she figured Barsad kept her company for at least several hours. She knew he must have been keeping time or had a quiet alarm set, because he abruptly placed the cards onto the table mid-game, got up, and left without a word.Myra stared after him as he left, noting the abruptness in which he departed. He didn’t even manage to utter a nicety, which was a contrast to Bane. She pondered this as she gathered up the cards on the table, putting them back into the container. She then made her way to her sleeping bag where she resumed the last few chapters of ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ before sleep found her.The following day as Myra was picking away at a new puzzle on the card table, Bane entered the room. Myra immediately paused to sit up, eyeing the food Bane held in one hand, and what appeared to be a stack of board games in the other. As Bane placed the tray of food in front of her, she peered at the titles of the board game. He carried a game of Scrabble, Chess, Battleship, and Checkers. The boxes appeared to be considerably worn and were perhaps acquired from a donation facility or thrift store. He set them in the middle of the card table next to the deck of cards and pile of puzzle boxes.As Myra devoured her food, Bane took his time to clean and replace her waste bucket. When he returned, she was finished with her food and was taking several large gulps of water. He sat down in the chair across from her, the chair visibly straining beneath him from his bulk. He then motioned to the games with one hand.“Pick one,” he ordered with little fanfare.Myra eyed the games again, immediately picking her preferred game. “Scrabble!!!,” she blurted out with more enthusiasm than she had shown since her capture, not really pondering or even caring about the oddity of choosing a board game to play with her mercenary captor.Bane proceeded to grab the box and take the consents out of the game.“I’m afraid you may have to explain the rules. I don’t partake in board games often, unfortunately,” Bane said curtly.Myra eyed him as he proceeded to sort out the contents of the box. She then took over, with Bane observing her as she positioned the fold-out cardboard game board in the center of the table. The wooden scrabble tiles were strewn on the table. She grabbed a ragged game pouch that came with the box, inserted them in it, and began mixing them up and then distributed them out. When she was finished with that, she put a tile rack in front of him as well as one in front of her. She took a breath, trying to decide the best way to explain the game."The game itself is relatively simple. You form words with your tiles and count up the points. A double or triple letter word or word space will give you more points. The person with the most points at the end wins," Myra explained with a moderate level of excitement, excited to play scrabble with an actual person, particularly with someone who hadn't played before. She picked out seven tiles for herself and seven for Bane, indicating for him to put them in his tile rack."You get to pick new tiles from the pouch after you use up the ones on that rack there," Myra continued.Bane nodded, absorbing the information he gave her.“How should we decide who goes first?” Myra asked him as she turned over the pile of tiles that had been randomly distributed to her onto her tile rack.“After you,” he said curtly, gesturing with his hand to the board.Myra looked at the board and the tiles in her tile rack, which contained her row of letters. She pondered for several moments before choosing the word “WILES”. After setting down the last letter in that row, she immediately looked up at him, blurting out the question that she clearly had been keeping and wondering since she had talked to Barsad the previous day.“Is your real name ‘Bane’?” she asked, plowing down her usual shyness and comfort level.Bane’s eyes shot up to hers, locking onto them. His eyes held onto hers for several seconds, in what felt like eternity for Myra, who held his gaze brazenly despite wanting nothing more than to quickly avert her eyes. She then observed his gaze move to roam over her features in a way that gave Myra goosebumps. Myra assumed he was analyzing the intent of her question and whether there was maliciousness in her inquiry. In reality, Bane was caught off guard at being asked such a direct question about himself. It was obvious he had been prepared for the flurry of questions pertaining to her imminent release, which she undoubtedly yearned. Not this. Sensing no ill-intent on her part and only curiosity, he finally answered, his attention redirected to his tile rack."My mother’s gift to me," he said, indirectly answering the question, though his tone indicated his answer was the most obvious thing in the world.Myra stared at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as if he were jesting with her. Who would name their child…Bane?When she saw that his face didn't shift from the look of casual passivity and instead idly focused on rearranging his tiles, she continued."What? Really? Why did she name you 'Bane'?" Myra asked incredulously.Bane finished rearranging his tiles, picking up a handful to place them on the board perpendicular to Myra’s tiles. He spelled the word “Bezique”, clearly overtaking Myra’s score."Because I was the bane of her existence, clearly," Bane said curtly, unbothered, his focus on his game board.Myra stared at him, waiting for him to slap his knee as if he were telling a great joke. She slowly realized she wasn't going to get that kind of reaction from him. Instead, her features fell, finding a sudden sense of uncomfortable sadness and newfound empathy for her captor."That's terrible," Myra said wistfully."I was born in a prison. I can hardly fault her," Bane said as if defending her, turning over one of the playing cards.This new tidbit of information both in regards to Bane as well as his mother caused Myra to mentally log a series of questions she felt compelled to ask. He was born in a…prison? How is that possible? Who grows up in a prison? "What happened to her?" Myra asked curiously, taking her time to pick her next word.Bane’s eyes shot up to Myra’s again, his eyes roaming over her features as if he were noticing her for the first time. His eyes eventually settled on hers after he appeared content with his visual exploration. Myra’s goosebumps came back."She perished when I was but a child. She was raped and murdered by fellow prisoners," Bane said. He could just as easily have been talking about what color the sky was, clearly past the trauma that event may have caused in his life. At least that was Myra’s perspective as an outside observer. My…God. This shocked and appalled Myra, who froze while in the middle of placing her next word on the tile board, her eyes rising up to meet his pensive gaze."I'm….I’m so sorry. How awful….for your mother…and you. You must have been so…. broken and lost when she died," she said, not knowing what else to say.Bane continued to hold her gaze, though Myra saw his focus was internal. He then slowly blinked, refocusing fully onto her before his eyes drifted to the scrabble board as Myra finished placing the word ‘cat’.“In this world, darkness thrives. One must learn to embrace the darkness if they wish to survive,” he said in a casual matter-of-fact tone, plucking several tiles from his tile rack almost immediately following Myra’s hand retreating from the board. He spelled ‘brux’.Myra felt unsettled by his comment, so decided not to comment on it and instead focused on trying to actually do a decent job at the game in front of her. This caused her to immediately sour, realizing how much better Bane was than she was. She couldn’t help but voice her irritation, her ego and pride slightly wounded."What? Brux? What the heck is brux? Is that even a word? You must have made that up. You can’t use fictitious words. You can only play it if you actually know what it means," Myra argued, clearly annoyed."It certainly is," Bane's voice said with slight inflection as he defended himself. "It means to clench and grind the teeth," he explained, making (what Myra assumed) were chomping and grinding motions with his teeth for emphasis. All she heard was the sound. She couldn't actually see him perform these actions since his mask obscured his face.Myra scowled."…you are making me clench and grind my teeth," she mumbled.Bane stared at her, his eyebrows rising in mild amusement, both at her remark as well as if he were waiting for her to come up with more arbitrary rules."You should only be allowed to play words that I know," Myra clarified, providing additional boundaries to the game."Then I would hardly be able to play any words," Bane markedly teased."That's rude," Myra said, though she stopped briefly to process it.Without warning, the corner of her lip twitched into a smirk as she suppressed a laugh at his well-played insult. Being unable to hold it in, she decided to cover her mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her laugh at one of his jokes to only further inflate his ego. That didn’t work, however, because a laugh managed to escape between her lips so suddenly that it startled her. She realized in that moment that the laugh was probably the first one she had managed to have in days, if not weeks. Perhaps even well before she was even taken hostage."That was funny," she finally confessed."What was?" Bane asked curiously."Your joke," Myra said, a smile still on her face."I told a joke?" Bane asked seriously.Myra's smile faltered as she placed her hands on the table and lifted her eyes to give him a glare. Her eyes softened considerably when she saw something she hadn't seen before on his face; deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes. She realized he must be smiling under the mask. She couldn't see his face since it was deeply obscured by the contraption that covered it, but the crow's feet and scrunching of skin on either corner of his eyes were unmistakably human characteristics of a smile. It was contagious, because she started smiling again."Didn't you grow up in a prison? Shouldn't you be a little more….?" Myra started to question.She wasn't sure how to finish the sentence but let her eyes narrow at the implications of her statement. Dense, stupid, she thought inwardly. She felt emboldened and retaliatory over the tease he delivered her.Bane replied without missing a beat."The options in prison were either reading or fighting. Besides, weren’t you afforded the privilege of proper education? Shouldn't you be a little bit more…..?" Bane retorted, his words trailing off before saying the unsaid. Smart. Witty. Knowledgeable. Myra stared back at Bane with an air of being offended, but in reality, she was impressed."Touché," she finally replied.Myra started to wonder where his well of knowledge was coming from. Her eyes roamed from his up to his forehead and finally to his bald head as if she were staring directly into his brain and seeing rows and rows of 'knowledge'."Alright. I concede, you win," Myra finally said after tallying up the score. She didn't want to show Bane the score. His score was almost triple what hers was.Bane appeared indifferent to his win, choosing instead to pick the tiles off of the board and inserting them into the tile pouch. He plucked the tiles from Myra’s tile rack, as well as his own, also inserting them into the bag as well. He then shook the bag lightly.“One more?” he inquired, already assuming her answer based on the way he was actively distributing the new tiles between them at random. This surprised Myra, because it would prolong his stay in the cement utility closet.Myra gave a curt nod, arranging her tiles accordingly on her tile rack. She decided to remain silent and focus on the game at hand to better her chances, despite the litany of questions she had regarding Bane and his time spent in prison. Secretly, though, she knew he was already going to win before she even started looking at her tiles.The second time around, he beat her considerably. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he was internally keeping track of the score without the use of the piece of paper and chubby pencil nub she needed to use that came with the contents of the game box.Myra was scowling when Bane got up from his chair and cleaned up the tiles and the board. He gave her a nod of his head before making his exit.“Thank you for the enjoyable game. Until next time,” he said as he closed and locked the door, leaving Myra to resume reading in the corner of the closet until she was able to fall asleep.The routine of Barsad and Bane bringing her food, emptying her waste bucket, and keeping her company lasted for another week or so. Myra noticed that Bane tended to stay longer than Barsad did. The plate of food that Bane brought also tended to have additional snacks than the one Barsad brought. She also noticed that Barsad refused to engage with the board games and instead opted to play card games exclusively. She also found that she didn't need to remind herself to enjoy herself nearly as much as when she was with Bane over that of Barsad. For this reason, she preferred Bane’s company over Barsad’s.In addition, she also noticed Barsad was extremely cautious and minimal with his willingness to engage in any type of conversation. Bane, on the other hand, appeared more open and direct with Myra. It was because of this that Myra decided the next time she was with Bane, she would venture further out of her comfort zone and engage in a somewhat controversial topic with him."Gotham seems to attract a lot of attention from unsavory individuals," Myra said abruptly as she moved a checker piece forward.Myra glanced up at him suggestively before looking back down at the board.Bane seemed to find her statement mildly amusing."Unsavory, am I?" he asked in feigned pain as if he were wounded from her insinuation, moving a checker piece forward of his own in response to her move. After moving the piece forward, he leaned back into his chair and crossed his massive arms, his eyes appraising her curiously.Myra eyed him for several seconds, taking in the top of his shiny head, his mask that looked like a mechanical demon spider, and his massive body and muscular arms. He wasn't necessarily the most approachable looking guy. In fact, she remembered being outright terrified of him when she first saw him at the Gotham Stock Exchange. She may even have peed a little, especially when he picked her out of the crowd to be taken as hostage.“Yes,” she decided to respond, not daring to elaborate on the reasons why she might consider him to be unsavory. She moved forward a checker piece.Bane didn’t immediately lean forward to make his move on the checkerboard, but instead remained reclined in his chair as he examined her. Myra felt his eyes shift to take in her features in an unhurried manner, his breathing coming out in slow periodic rasps through his mask. Myra could certainly feel the stare, and felt her face begin to burn from the attention and scrutiny. Her eyes drifted up several times to match his, but had to immediately look away both times, feeling both intimidated and shy."Well, we'll just have to change that mindset of yours, won’t we?" Bane rumbled softly in what Myra considered to be in a mildly sensuous voice, albeit one with a hint of tease.Regardless of his intent, the alluring undertone in his statement sent a wave of unexpected goosebumps erupting all over her arms and spine, causing her face to bloom a brighter red. Get a hold of yourself, fool. You don't need to enjoy yourself THAT much. He kidnapped you, remember dummy? He’s a terrorist…? A KILLER? He wears a FRIGHTENING MASK? He’s GINORMOUS and could crush you BY ACCIDENT? Myra didn't respond, instead focusing on curbing her inner monologue as well as covering up those goosebumps that had riddled her skin, annoyed that her body reacted so unexpectedly. She determined that the only reason she must be having these sorts of thoughts was due to the isolation she had endured the past few weeks and the lack of stimulation. She also tried, and failed, at re-directing her mind from fixating on her mental point about him being ginormous. With muscles. Everywhere. He is…very strong. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so big…and his eyes…my god…and HANDS?! Imagine what he could do with those hands...Shh. ZIP IT. SHHH. SHHHHHHHH!!!!!! HE CAN PROBABLY SENSE WHAT YOU ARE THINKING! CALM DOWN! STOP FIDGETING! Myra immediately ceased the fidgeting that had begun during the silent conversation she was having with herself. She decided to remain silent, staring pointedly at the board. This resulted in his statement settling in the air between them before Bane decided to break the silence. Whether he noticed her goosebumps, her blushing face, or her inner thoughts, he seemed to ignore it."If Gotham attracts such unappealing creatures, then why live here?" Bane inquired politely, patiently waiting for her to make her next move on the checkerboard.Myra analyzed the board, knowing that whatever move she did was futile. He was going to win. Regardless, she made her move quickly, returning the hand back to aid in covering her arms."Daggett Industries offered me an internship. I felt like that helped make up my mind on whether to stay or go," she said idly, in an almost bored tone.Bane acknowledged her with a silent nod as he moved a checker piece on the table."Is it possible that Gotham attracts these individuals because the city isn't as innocent as you have come to believe? Is it possible that the city must be allowed to burn so that it can grow anew from the ashes?” Bane questioned in a tone that Myra marked as being significantly more severe than the one he had just employed with her.Myra shifted her eyes to look at him hesitantly, unsure of how to respond. She twisted a checker piece in her fingers as she mulled over his words.“Do you mean removing social services, the police, firefighters, and basic order, resulting in all of the good people and businesses moving out and just letting the criminals have their reign until they destroy themselves? Or do you mean an actual fire, like the Great Chicago Fire?” she asked cautiously, unsure of his intentions and whether he was just being figurative with his speech.Myra must have said something mildly amusing, for she observed the corners of his eyes crinkle mildly before he responded.“Everyone and everything. Destroyed,” he said calmly.By this point, they had both stopped playing checkers and were merely observing each other’s reaction to the conversation at hand. Myra continued to twist the checker in her fingers compulsively, furrowing her brows at his response.“I can’t imagine being able to do something like that without displacing millions of people and businesses. That sounds catastrophic. How could a city recover from that?” she asked, shocked and uncomfortable by the suggestion.Bane continued to observe her passively, leaning back in his chair before he replied.“You misunderstood me. I meant everyone in the city,” he said, clearly anticipating a reaction from her.Myra let her mouth drop open for a brief moment before she managed a response, finding this whole scenario repulsive and uncomfortable.“I can’t imagine a scenario like that being possible without including innocent people. Do innocent people deserve to die?” she asked him testily, clearly annoyed by this train of questioning and the topic at hand.Bane regarded her for several brief moments. Several deep mechanical breaths emanated through his mask before he provided her with an answer.“Perhaps it is those very same ‘innocent people’ that were compliant and allowed Gotham to fester into its current state of decay?” he challenged her.Myra immediately furrowed her brows, glaring at him, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. She felt like she was harboring deeply contrary opinions to the ones he supposedly presented."Children should be punished?" Myra said sharply, indignation clear in her tone.Bane observed her, his features remaining contemplative with a hint of amusement by her supposed and apparent naivete. He didn’t make a response, but instead gestured at her with his hand to make a move on the checkerboard. Myra, realizing she had the checker in her hand the whole time, placed it hurriedly on the board. She didn’t even bother to check if the move was allowable by the rules of checkers. Her mind was racing from the conversation that just took place. After several moments, Myra asked the question that was burning in her mind, trying to link his line of questioning with the motive behind the heist at the Gotham Stock Exchange. She couldn’t find any reasonable connection between the two.“What…why…did you steal at the Gotham Stock Exchange?” she asked with extreme caution, knowing she was possibly treading on dangerous ground.Bane made a reactionary move to Myra’s on the checkerboard, sitting back again for her to make the next move. Myra noted he chose to not provide her with an answer, instead looking at her expectantly to make the next move. This, of course, infuriated Myra, who flicked one of the checker pieces on the board with two fingers. She didn’t care if it was her piece and also didn’t seem to care that the piece flung off the table.“What are you doing in Gotham? Are you planning on ‘burning it down’?” she asked angrily, feeling ridiculous for even asking. How could one person - heck, even a handful of people - burn an entire city down? Not possible… Bane’s eyebrows had furrowed from the flung checker piece across the table, but now his eyes seemed absolutely steely as he looked up and regarded her. Myra, to her surprise, returned his stare with equal fervor.“Burn it down? No…,” Bane said with a mild form of sarcasm thick in his voice.Myra wasn’t sure why, but his answer unsettled her. She shifted her weight in her seat, crossing her arms abruptly as she continued to glower at him."Then what? Why am I even here? Whose money did you steal at the Gotham Exchange? What do you intend to do with it?" Myra let the floodgate of questions burst out.Bane’s patience must have expired, for he let out a sigh before getting up from his seat with a gentle sound of exertion. Myra noted he chose to ignore her questions, and instead made his way to the exit."I believe we are done for today. Sleep well," he said with moderate sincerity. He left the room without giving a second glance to Myra and the unfinished checkers game.Myra sighed. Loudly..
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Myra was starting to feel the effects of being unwashed due to the lack of proper sanitary tools at her disposal. She knew she must have been in the closet for weeks by now and hadn’t been proactive with raising her concerns about needing a proper wash, a toothbrush, or additional sanitary items. The last straw for her, however, wasn’t the fact that her hair had grown to a state of greasiness that rivaled any member of the Grease gang, or that her clothes felt oily and radiated an unpleasant aroma. It even wasn’t the fact that she could smell her own breath and feel the rough texture of plaque slowly coating her teeth. It was when she woke up with cramps and discovered soiled underwear due to her monthly cycle. Her
only
underwear.
This event forced her to shed the only pair of sweatpants and underwear she had available, bunching them up in the corner of the closet. She had to use a ragged t-shirt that was left from the small pile of clothes near the door for make-shift bottoms. She stepped into the neck opening like a skirt, pulling it up to her waist. She then shoved the sleeves inward before wadding up a bunch of toilet paper and sticking it between her legs. She had never felt so unclean, unpleasant, and uncomfortable in her life.
It was Barsad who walked in the door that morning and observed her seated in the corner of the room with the edge of the sleeping bag covering her lap. He must have detected an elevated level of discomfort or disgust radiating from Myra, for he stopped midway through the door to stop and stare at her with his signature bored expression. Myra glowered at him. He waited for her to speak first.
“I need…some…female sanitary items. A toothbrush and paste. And a shower,” she demanded, not even bothering to make it a suggestion or a polite request at this point.
This blatant order from Myra caused Barsad to lift one brow curiously as he examined her. Several moments idled by before he entered the room slowly to place the tray of food on the table. His cautious demeanor made Myra feel like he thought she was going to physically lash out any moment like a snake in the grass. It was also possible he was uncomfortable at the notion of dealing with someone’s menstruation.
Myra assumed he was either going to sit down at the card table to begin shuffling the deck of cards as he always did and perhaps ignore her, or indicate he was going to go find a solution. When he exited the room making sure to lock the door behind him without doing either of those things, it left Myra mildly stunned. He didn’t even replace and clean out her waste bucket. She waited several minutes for him to return in case he went to fetch some items, but seeing that he wasn’t coming back, she made her way to the table awkwardly and devoured her food.
He noped out of here real fast, I guess.
It was well after Myra had finished her food and was seated in the corner of the room that she heard the door finally unlock and open again. She was ready to scowl and berate Barsad for leaving without a word, but she saw that it wasn’t Barsad. It was Bane.
She kept her mouth shut as she watched him enter. She was unsure if he harbored any resentment towards her based on how their last conversation ended, or the fact that he apparently was summoned up here to ‘deal with her situation’, since it seemed beyond Barsad’s paygrade. Based on the neutral expression he wore she wasn’t able to conclude anything about his mental state.
Myra saw that Bane held several large brown bags by their handles in one hand, the tripod and camera bag in the other. He deposited the bags on the table and propped the camera tripod up against the wall. Without looking at her, he removed a bottle of dollar store shampoo and soap from one bag, tossing them at her. As Myra fumbled to catch them, he removed several clean towels and a pair of men’s gray sweatpants, a man’s blue t-shirt, and a bag of assorted women’s underwear in different sizes. He then took the remaining brown paper bag and shoved it into her arms, which she struggled to hold onto as she rearranged the shampoo and soap in her grasp. Grabbing onto the bag, she quickly looked down to inspect the contents of the bag. Myra realized it contained a large assortment of female sanitary pads, tampons, a packaged toothbrush, and toothpaste. Using one arm to hold the soft items, he went back to the door and held it open for her expectantly. Myra shot him a shocked, quizzical look, not understanding his intent.
“You requested a wash?” he said with mild irritation.
Myra stared at him, and then out the exit of the door.
“Out…there?” she asked, perplexed.
Bane must have found her statement mildly amusing, for the tone he used to respond eased up considerably.
“Of course. Now, I had better not receive any trouble from you. Will you do exactly as instructed?” he said, raising one eyebrow at her expectantly.
Her eyes darted to the camera bag and tripod.
“Not unless you plan on filming me while I clean myself,” she argued, clearly uncomfortable at the idea.
Bane paused briefly to lower his arms while his eyes roamed her features. She observed crinkling at the corner of his eyes, which she assumed must indicate a smile behind that mask based on something amusing she must have said. That did nothing to ease her discomfort.
“Don’t be foolish,” he said lightheartedly, barely masking his humor.
Myra continued to eye him suspiciously, but then gave a curt nod, springing to her feet. She knew by now that there was no way she would be able to outrun either Bane or Barsad. Any attempt would just end with any privilege she now had being revoked. Or worse.
“Good,” Bane said. “Then let’s get a move on, shall we?” he said, standing back to let her pass him out the door. Myra hurried past him.
She stopped outside just shy of the door, turning back to him to wait for instruction. Bane didn’t bother closing the door to the utility closet, and instead directed her to the large wall adjacent to the closet. Myra immediately spotted the green snake-like tubing of a hose connected to a spigot, and her eyes darted to him suspiciously. Her suspicions were confirmed, of course, when Bane stopped in front of the hose, deposited the towels and the fresh clothes near it away from the large water drain that was just below on the ground in front of them. He then turned on the hose.
“No,” Myra said immediately, not caring for the idea of stripping naked and being hosed down like an animal in front of the masked man. She didn’t care how dirty she felt. She hugged the brown bag tightly in her arms to highlight her discomfort.
Bane appeared amused, perhaps realizing the reason for her reluctance.
“I’ll assist with your hair. I’ll turn around and give you privacy after, where you may cleanse the rest of your body as you see fit,” Bane suggested politely.
Myra twisted the bottle of shampoo and soap in her hands, trying to shirk the discomfort and alarm bells that were going off despite his conditions. She stared at him for several long moments, clearly battling internally at what she should do. Which was the least comfortable option: remaining unbathed for an indefinite amount of time, or being assisted by Bane, who may or may not take advantage of her?
If he wanted to take advantage of me, he had ample opportunity to do so thus far. He’s been nothing but polite and accommodating….as far as a kidnapper goes. He doesn’t even
need
to be doing this right now. It would probably be less trouble for him to let me remain uncomfortable and unbathed.
She let out a sigh, settling on her decision. She set down the brown bag off to the side. She then moved closer to him and the hose, which now freely spouted water. Not caring whether her clothes were going to get wet, she bent forward at the waist in front of him as a clear indicator that she wanted him to rinse her hair. Using both of her hands, she opened the cheap bottle of shampoo and squirted a handful into her palm. Bane, for his part, must have picked up on her trepidation as well as the reluctant trust that she gave him to participate in this activity. Due to this observation, his movements were slow and careful as he adjusted the hose for her. He then slowly moved the angle of the hose to directly drain into her hair.
Myra
JUMPED,
letting out a shrill gasp.
The pure icy coldness from the water took the breath right out of her lungs. She dropped the bottle of shampoo on the cement ground from shock. She tried to quickly recover, soapy shampoo now all over her hands as she struggled to re-open the bottle and deposit more shampoo into her hand.
“It’s
COLD!!!!”
she managed to shout between chattering teeth, quickly scrubbing her hair with both of her hands while Bane stood idle with the hose, waiting for her to thoroughly lather her hair.
Bane didn’t respond but instead seemed content with watching the spectacle, appearing unhurried. He waited patiently while Myra must have scrubbed each strand of her hair before she eventually stopped, sighing, and giving a nod as an indicator for him to use the hose to rinse her hair. He obliged, taking care not to get her in the face, eyes, or neck. Myra used her hands to assist with ensuring all of the shampoo was thoroughly dissolved before she quickly retreated from the water. She felt goosebumps starting to pollute her skin as a light shiver took control of her body. She stood up straight, wringing out her hair by twisting it with both hands. Bane continued to hold the water hose in his hand, anticipating she would need it for the rest of her body and perhaps to brush her teeth. The excess water made its way to the drain on the ground near their feet.
As Myra was wringing out the last bit of her hair, she eyed Bane, who appeared to be eyeing her back. He seemed to be fixated on something on her face. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he put his hand under the hose to get a handful of cupped water. He then moved himself to stand much closer to her. Before Myra understood his intentions and could react, she felt bitter cold water being splashed onto and into one of her ears, followed by a gentle poking and massaging from Bane’s fingers as he wiped at her ear. He finished by massaging her earlobe gently between two large fingers, removing them after being satisfied with the result.
“Soap,” was all he said as explanation.
Myra stared at him like he was an alien from outer space, an odd creature she had never seen before. Bane, for his part, bent down to grab one of the towels, handing it to her politely. Whether Myra was irritated or not by the sudden intrusion, she didn’t show it. She did, however, feel goosebumps fully erupt all over her skin and a mild heat settling in her cheeks despite the obvious chill.
“Wrap your hair up quickly. I anticipate the temperature will continue to drop down here as the night progresses,” he offered.
It’s night out? My god, I don’t even have a sense of night or day…
Myra did as instructed, wrapping her hair up tightly with one of the towels.
“Good. You may continue washing as you wish. Leave the soiled clothes on the ground, please. I’ll deal with them later. Speak up when you have finished,” he said, handing her the hose. He then turned around and walked away several meters, keeping his back to her. He folded his arms and spread his legs out slightly, assuming a neutral stance as he waited for her to finish.
Myra was still mildly unsettled by the whole situation but did as he instructed. She did wait several moments, however, staring at his back to see if he would turn his head or adjust his stance in a way that would offer him a view her way. Seeing that he wasn’t budging, she quickly shed her clothes and threw them into a pile on the ground. Gritting her teeth, she rinsed her whole body with the hose. She felt her lungs constrict painfully as the cold water coated her skin. She then set the hose down while she lathered her body with soap. Once lathered, she quickly rinsed and turned off the hose.
“
I’M NOT DONE YET,”
Myra promptly shouted over her shoulder, not wanting him to think that her turning off the hose was an indicator to turn around.
Bane didn’t respond, but instead continued to stand patiently. Myra opened the toothbrush and squirted a
very
generous dab of toothpaste on the brush before she proceeded to scrub her teeth vigorously, determined to remove any lingering grime. She spit into the drain once she was complete, and quickly grabbed a few items from the brown paper bag containing the female sanitary products. She used the second towel to wipe off the excess water from her body. She then quickly grabbed the fresh set of clothes and underwear, donning them as fast as she could. Once finished, she let out a massive, contented sigh.
“Done!” she said with exaggerated cheer, raising one arm into the air for triumphant emphasis.
Bane turned around to observe her. He gave her a curt nod of approval before gesturing back towards the utility closet door. Myra let out a groan, throwing her head back briefly dramatically. She then slowly bent to pick up the brown paper bag and trudged forward toward the closet obediently. The sound of her wet, bare feet made soft ‘pat pat’ sounds on the cement floor as she made her way.
Bane followed her to the closet, grabbing the camera tripod as he did so. He then opened the camera bag to retrieve the camera. Myra beelined straight to one of the folding chairs at the table, watching Bane as she did so. She deposited the brown bag in the corner before re-adjusting the towel that wrapped around her hair several times, feeling like Marie Antoinette with a large wig atop her head. She watched as Bane set the tripod up in front of her with the camera.
“We need to provide an updated video to the police regarding your capture,” was all Bane said before he turned the camera on.
Myra, having just been provided a new set of clothes, a ‘shower’, female sanitation items, a tooth clean, and goosebumps, was on cloud nine. So, when she saw the red light on the camera turn on and Bane looked at her expectantly, all she could do was wave politely at the camera like a simpleton and show off her clean smile.
Bane immediately turned it off, looking slightly exasperated.
“Is your intention to lead the police to believe that you are being treated well, and perhaps even enjoying yourself? So much so that they may believe their resources are better spent elsewhere?” he challenged, though Myra heard no bitterness in his voice, only mild amusement.
Myra’s face immediately fell, speechless, looking horrified.
“Perfect,” Bane said quickly, taking the opportunity to quickly turn the camera on to capture her crestfallen features.
Bane appeared to be actively suppressing a rare chuckle by this point. Myra saw those crinkles littering the corner of his eyes. His eyebrows, which were usually lowered in concentration or stern severity were instead slightly raised. All she could assume was that he found humor in her very apparent hostage-video faux pas. Despite this, he soldiered on with providing a voice-over for the video.
“We demand the immediate release of the two men captured at the Gotham Stock Exchange in exchange for Ms. Bell. As you can see, she has not been harmed. For now. Our patience has run out. You have three days to comply,” Bane said before turning off the camera abruptly.
Myra could still detect humor in his voice as he made his short speech to the police. If she were watching the video with no context, she would just assume that Bane was a sinister terrorist who finds joy in tormenting and threatening others, especially on camera. She was also certain that she looked like she was waterlogged. She was sure this would only bolster the effect of the video.
As Bane packed up the camera and the tripod, Myra’s mind fixated on the contents of his speech.
What’s going to happen after three days, if the police aren’t successful? Am I going to…die? Are they going to kill me?
Myra’s face must have mirrored the worry that now plagued her thoughts, for when Bane made a quick glance in her direction and saw her horrified expression, he immediately made an attempt to dismiss her worries with a flick of his hand.
“Theatrics. The Gotham police have been operating with a lack of urgency, up until now. This will perhaps light a fire and instill haste,” he explained.
Myra stared, unsure of how she should feel or who she should trust. Her face did lighten up a bit, however, when Bane made room to sit down at the table across from her, grabbing the Scrabble box. He quietly set it up while Myra sat idly, still mulling over his words. She couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of dread clench at her heart.
Her mind, of course, was not in the game as they played Scrabble. While Bane was spreading out tiles onto the board to form a letter, Myra decided to speak up again, concerns clearly consuming her thoughts.
“But…
why
…haven’t I been let go yet? Are the police truly not doing anything to get me out?” she asked reluctantly, her eyes rising to meet him.
Bane finished placing his tiles, and briefly looked up at her before returning his focus on replacing the missing tiles on his tile rack.
"Things aren't going according to plan," Bane finally admitted.
What Bane couldn’t share, of course, was that his primary contact for negotiating with the police, John Daggett, was dead. Bane had been summoned the previous day by Daggett himself to whine about the hit that Bane made on the stock exchange not working in his favor. Daggett made it a point to threaten Bane’s access to his resources due to his own inability to absorb Wayne Enterprises. Bane hadn’t intended on killing Daggett until after the release of his men, but he wasn’t one to take threats lightly and instead made the choice to eliminate him then and there. Bane knew there would be consequences to Daggett’s death, primarily losing direct access to the communication that Daggett had purported to have with the authorities. However, due to the length of time that Myra had already sustained as a hostage, Bane started having his doubts on Daggett’s usefulness on that front. This meant Bane had to start the process over himself.
Myra’s face dropped. She started feeling a moderate level of guilt and responsibility for the delay in the exchange not moving forward at an expedited pace. She didn’t feel that she was someone particularly important in the grand scheme of things. She didn’t have connections. She didn’t have close friends or family. Who would vouch for her? She let her guilt seep through with a statement after giving out a deep sigh.
"I doubt there is anyone advocating for my release. I’m not…
really
…important. I don’t know of any friends or family that would even be aware that I’m missing. Maybe my boss, but I've only been working for a few weeks, so.." Her voice trailed off as her eyes refocused on the tiles on her tile board, pondering her next word to place on the Scrabble board.
Bane lifted his eyes suddenly at her remarks, and stared at her, looking disgruntled.
"What?" he asked in a somewhat affronted tone.
Bane's tone startled Myra, who realized it was perhaps a mistake to indicate she was basically worthless as a hostage since no one would want to pay for her ransom nor would anyone justify or advocate for her being worthy of being exchanged for two of Bane’s men in prison. She quickly backpedaled, swallowing nervously.
"I only meant that I don't have any family or relatives who would vouch for me. I'm pretty sure Daggett Industries has hostage insurance, so if it's money you're after…" She said, her voice trailing off.
She had no idea if Daggett Industries had hostage insurance. She didn’t even know if hostage insurance was a thing. Pure panic produced that quick lie in her head.
Bane, of course, was not after money. He regarded the information she gave him as one additional bit of info he knew about Myra Bell. His face softened considerably before he observed Myra make her move on the Scrabble board. She spelled “BOAT”.
"Are they deceased?" Bane asked out of mild curiosity and politeness, once she placed her tiles.
Myra worked her lips into a line before fidgeting as she thought about an answer.
"My family was involved in a car crash when I was little. My brother, mom, and dad died. I walked away with a scar on my forehead and on my back," she said as if she were trying to sound grateful but having difficulty.
Bane's eyes darted to her forehead for physical evidence of her claim and saw between two strands of her ash-blonde bangs a discolored bumpy patch of skin that was proof of her traumatic ordeal. He stared at it for several seconds, his eyes taking on a glassy sheen. He appeared deeply pensive, as if lost in thought. Myra eyed him, watching as his attention eventually drifted back down to the board game. He was ready to place his next word. “Fiasco.”
"Scars are reminders of what we have endured and subsequently overcame," Bane said thoughtfully and respectfully, shifting himself to sit back in his chair, watching Myra as she worked on figuring out her next word.
Myra's eyes rose to look at him questioningly before they traveled over any uncovered skin on his body that may indicate scar tissue. He had a scar on the side of his head, as well as a very large scar at the base of his neck that stretched down into his shirt. She wasn't sure how far it stretched down and was curious to know how far it reached. Her nerves wouldn’t allow her to continue that line of questioning, however, so instead she placed her next and final word. “OAR”.
Bane must have been ready, for he immediately placed a word after her. “EXPO”.
Myra didn’t even bother to tally the score. She knew he won. She observed that he must have come to the same conclusion, pushing himself up off of the cheap plastic fold-out chair that looked like it was on the verge of collapsing from his weight. As he made to exit the room, he turned towards her to give a curt nod.
"Until next time," he said.
Then he was gone.
"How long have you been following Bane?" Myra asked Barsad the following day, trying to keep her mind off of the fact that one full day had passed since Bane gave the police his ultimatum regarding her release.
Barsad lifted his eyes up to look at her from the deck of cards in his hand. He stared at her, making it obvious he wasn't in the mood to divulge personal information.
Myra sighed dramatically and stretched herself chest-down on the table, blocking him from distributing the cards. "Come
on
, you and Bane are the only people I get to talk to. It's not like I'm asking you to tell me your social security number,” she pleaded.
Barsad continued to stare at her as he held the deck of cards in his hand before he gave a sigh.
"Years," was his eventual answer.
"Did you grow up in a prison too?" Myra asked.
Barsad looked up at her, a mild look of startlement crossing his face. Clearly, he was surprised she knew 'that bit' of information about Bane. He stared at her skeptically before responding.
"No," he said.
"Then where did you grow up?" Myra asked.
"You wouldn't have heard of it," Barsad replied.
"Ooookay….what about Bane? Where does he come from? His accent is very peculiar. I don't think I've ever heard it before…"
Again, more staring.
"Why are you even down here if you aren't going to talk? At least
Bane
talks," Myra whined.
"You seem to do enough talking for the both of us," Barsad finally sniped.
Myra smiled at the vague insult Barsad unexpectantly directed at her.
"Perhaps I'm talking because I have to compensate since you are clearly too afraid to talk to me?" she quipped.
Myra was surprised at how easily Barsad took her bait.
"I'm not afraid," he scowled, giving her a look as if measuring her up by her physical prowess.
"You fooled me," Myra said.
Barsad narrowed his eyes at her, his lips working into a thin line.
"What are you guys anyway? Terrorists? A gang? A
cult
?" Myra asked.
Barsad eyed her. "I'm sure some would think so," he said quietly.
Myra rose her brows.
"Oh. I feel like that implies someone may be
paying
you then. Paying you for what? Who's paying you? Who's in charge? Is it Bane? What do you guys do, anyway?” Myra rattled off.
This was too much for Barsad. He decided to shut down and keep his lips shut.
"Okay, fine. If you can't tell me who you work for, what your goal is or where you're from, then maybe tell me a little bit more about you personally. I'm curious to know what kind of life a mercenary leads. Do you have a wife? Kids?" Myra inquired.
Myra was startled with Barsad's quick yet simple response.
"Yes," he said.
Myra grasped at the small bit of information being fed to her.
"Yes, to what? You have a wife? Kids?" she asked in a rush.
Barsad kept his expression passive. "Wife," he said simply.
"You
do?
! Where is she? Can I meet her?" Myra asked, her curiosity piqued.
"She isn’t here. It's not safe," Barsad replied with just the faintest note of sadness in his voice.
That answer took her by surprise.
Not safe 'here'? With Bane's men?
After pondering that notion a bit, she could understand his response based on the militaristic nature of the men she saw.
Or did he mean here in Gotham?
The thought of it not being safe in Gotham seemed ridiculous, considering how well Commissioner Gordan did with cleaning up the streets and reducing the general crime rate.
Her next question flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself, her curiosity making her anxious to know the answer, not even sure
why
she wanted to know.
"Does Bane have a wife too?" she asked with feigned disinterest.
Barsad lifted his eyes to hers, looking her over. He looked as if he was seeing right through her, seeing every sordid detail and inner secret that Myra held close to her heart. This made Myra suddenly uncomfortable and self-conscious of both her question as well as her thoughts.
"No," Barsad said.
Myra wasn’t sure why, but this surprised her. Her shock coated her features as she continued to stare at him.
“Why not?” she asked, unable to help herself, her curiosity out of control.
Barsad didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes refocused on hers. They swept over her, from the top of her head to to her waist, before making their way back up to hers. His eyes narrowed.
“He’s particular. He doesn’t tolerate nuisance or inconvenience,” he said indicatively.
Myra stared, her cheeks turning a light shade of red from the feeling of mild embarrassment and insult. She was mildly shocked and surprised, not just from the answer, but because Barsad managed to produce more than a one-word sentence. It was clear that he was implying she specifically was not his type of ‘particular’ due to being a very obvious nuisance and inconvenience. It was also clear he thought she was asking because she was fishing for Bane’s relationship status. Seeing that as potentially problematic for the future, he nipped that idea in the bud. Her intent, of course, wasn’t even meant to imply that she was interested. She was simply propelled by curiosity to ask. Right…?
Barsad continued to eye her suspiciously, noting her sudden silence, before he put a card down on the table to take a new one from the top of the stack. Their game continued with no further discussion about their personal lives.
The following day, Myra decided that she would try her luck at asking Bane for some time outside of the utility closet to stretch her legs for a slow jog or walk. It was day two of Bane’s ultimatum with one left to go. Even though he implied safety on her part in regard to the police pulling through with the hostage ultimatum, it was hard not to feel anxious. It was also difficult to trust a criminal. That anxiety transcended to her limbs, particularly her legs. If she was going to die, she wanted to die comfortably without cramped legs. There were only so many squats and lunges she could do in a confined space before she started feeling claustrophobic from the reality of her situation closing in on her.
As Bane entered with her plate of food and a fresh set of books for her to read, Myra was already standing by the door expectantly. He seemed mildly amused by her enthusiasm but didn’t make a comment and instead set her food on the table. He then turned to her, knowing she was anxious to either share some news or ask a question.
“Would you mind if I walked around the garage outside? Or jog slowly? My legs have been getting cramps and stretching them out would help a great deal,” she said, using her hands for emphasis.
Bane regarded her, expressionless. His eyes roamed over her face before his gaze dropped to her legs. He took a moment to assess the state of her legs before he finally spoke.
“Eat your food, and then we can have a few turns around the area,” he said, gesturing to the food and water at the table.
Myra stood dumbfounded for several seconds, her eyes wide, genuinely shocked that he was being amiable and agreed to accommodate her request. She snapped out of her stupor quickly, however, and dove to her folded chair while Bane proceeded to pick up her waste bucket and clean it outside in the drain with the hose. When he was done, he came back inside and sat in the chair across from her, observing her as she ate. She finished up quickly by taking a large gulp of water from her water bottle. She then stood up abruptly and donned her shoes. She moved her toes inside the shoes, feeling odd for wearing them after so-many days. She then turned to look at Bane, waiting for his signal to exit the room.
Bane stood up with a mild sound of exertion, his chair dipping slightly from his bulk. He then made his way to the door, opened it, and then gestured for her to proceed.
“After you,” he said politely.
Myra hesitantly tip-toed outside, feeling as if her privileges were going to be revoked any second and that this was all a ruse. However, Bane observed her as she inched out of the closet before turning around to look at him.
“Where can I walk?” she asked curiously, turning to survey the empty underground parking lot space.
Bane followed her line of sight before returning his focus back to her.
“Just this perimeter. I’ll accompany you, if you don’t mind,” he said before walking forward towards the first corner of the garage, presumably to start there as they made their way around. Myra thought his comment was slightly ridiculous.
What if I did mind? Would he stay back? Or is he just putting on an act of being polite?
Myra wasn’t motivated enough to find out, so instead followed his lead. She did notice that he was an incredibly aggressive walker, far outpacing her. She felt like he was able to make one stride for every two she made. She quickly felt the effects of exertion after they made 2 solid laps around.
"Being stuck in a closet all day and all night for weeks doesn't necessarily foster cardio development," Myra confessed in a huff, sweat starting to litter her forehead.
Bane turned his head to observe her, clearly not showing the same levels of exertion on his features due to his elevated stamina levels.
“You must challenge and build your body, regardless of the circumstances. Be it a hole, a closet, a prison…you must learn to adapt,” he said as if he were instructing her on the ways of life.
Myra gave him a skeptical glance, her eyes roaming over his considerable bulk and muscle.
“You seem to have taken that lesson to heart,” Myra snide, letting out a large breath to try and recuperate the lost oxygen in her blood.
The only response Myra observed from Bane at her comment was a very subtle crinkling of the corner of his eyes.
Huh. He must think I’m funny.
Myra decided to explore the topic further, finding it mildly enjoyable to incorporate conversation into the exercise.
“How long do you usually workout in a day? You must eat…just…
so much
,” Myra continued, using her hands for emphasis by spreading them out to indicate a ‘large amount’.
Bane kept his focus on the ground in front of them as he pondered an answer.
“I tend to my body when I’m able. I eat when I feel the need,” he said, failing to produce a concise time or even a specific diet regime.
Myra turned her head to regard him again, finding it difficult not to analyze his physique due to it being the primary topic of discussion.
“Ah. So, you basically workout the entire time you aren’t down here keeping me company. Got it,” she said playfully, feeling that he
must
spend at least an hour or two daily to achieve his kind of results.
Bane appeared to have found some mild humor in her retort for he nodded in agreement. The formation of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes also reappeared. Myra let a smile form on her lips at her ability to produce snap-like witty (at least
she
thought so) responses.
Myra decided to use Bane’s apparent good mood to ask the question that had, of course, been at the forefront of her brain.
“Any news from the police?” Myra asked tentatively, feeling as if she already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway, even if it meant falling into a sour mood.
He would have said something right away if something
had
happened, right?
Bane continued walking at his steady pace, appearing unphased by her question and sudden shift in topic.
“No,” was all he said after several moments of silence.
Myra’s heart sank. It gripped at her chest and lungs. It crushed her soul. She didn’t like the uncertainty of what would happen if the police still hadn’t done anything by tomorrow. Would Bane have to save face and kill her, just to prove a point? Would he torture her on video to show them that he was serious? Myra’s mind filled with horrific scenarios of what could happen in the unfortunate event that the police weren’t able to coordinate successfully for her release. Silence settled between them as these nightmares played out in her mind.
Bane must have detected her emotional shift and sudden silence, for it was he who asked the next question.
“If you had one day left on earth, how would you spend it?” he asked curiously.
It was apparent Myra interpreted his question as you would to an inmate on death row requesting what their last meal would be. The question sucked the air right from her lungs.
Is he making plans for my death because he has no hope in the police pulling through? Is he toying with me? Playing mind games? Torturing me? Does he want to make sure I die ‘comfortably’ on my last day tomorrow? I’m going to vomit…
Myra’s hand went to her mouth. Her walking slowed down significantly as she started feeling nauseous. Bane eased his pace to match hers. She tried to focus on his question objectively, removing herself from her current situation. She was having extreme difficulty. It was several minutes before she eventually answered. Whether Bane noticed her physical reaction to his question, Myra couldn’t tell.
“I think…I would hypothetically want to go someplace remote, away from everyone and everything. Isolated. Someplace open. Safe. Someplace warm…beautiful…and sunny. I like the ocean. Maybe someplace with palm trees? I’d want to just lie in the sand…relaxing…forgetting about everything. Basque in my own reality,” she said, trying to imagine being away from the underground parking garage and instead on a beautiful sandy beach with no worries on her mind.
Bane nodded, crossing his arms as he continued to match Myra’s slowed pace.
“Hmmm. I quite like that,” he mused breathily, his voice coming out in a hushed mechanically amplified tone through his mask.
Myra turned her head to observe him, her eyes roaming over his features and body. She couldn’t see any indicators that he wasn’t being sincere, or sinister. She decided to resume their normal pace, making every attempt at abandoning the dark, intrusive thoughts that were invading her mind about imprisonment and death.
“Speaking of husbands and wives, have you met Barsad’s wife?” Myra asked, making a strained attempt at projecting a casual tone as if they were long-time acquaintances taking a stroll around the veranda. She also very much wanted to change the subject away from her imminent demise.
Bane turned to her, the facial features around his eyes indicating he found her question both curious and interesting.
“I see you were able to cull information out of Barsad. Quite the accomplishment,” he mused before continuing. “Yes, I know her. She’s lovely,” he said.
Myra nodded at this information, not really knowing what to do with it or how to respond.
“Where is she? Barsad mentioned she’s not here because it’s too dangerous for her? Wouldn’t she be safe with you guys?” she continued.
Bane must have found her question mildly vexatious, for his brows furrowed.
“Gotham will soon be the most dangerous place in the world. He’s smart to keep her away,” he answered.
Myra’s brows furrowed.
“Why? Because of the rising crime rates? From
you?
” she quipped.
Bane didn’t answer her immediately, but instead continued on with his leisurely stroll that Myra still struggled with in terms of pace. She now had a light sheen coat of sweat on her forehead. She observed the severity and the focused concentration he seemed to be exuding. After several long moments, she decided to press him with a different question.
“What is it you are doing here anyway?
Truly
?” she asked, still not sure she had a full grasp of Bane’s intentions for Gotham City.
She didn’t care that he clammed up and refused to answer the last time she threw these types of questions at him. She felt even more emboldened at the prospect of having only one day left on earth. If she was going to die, she wanted to at least know
why.
Again, Bane didn’t respond to her, instead appearing contemplative and thoughtful before he eventually responded to her with a question of his own.
“If you were to design a society without knowing whether you’d be rich or poor, powerful or oppressed, what principles would you prioritize?” Bane asked her curiously.
Myra was mildly confused and startled by this question, turning her head to give him a questioning look, agitated that he steered away from answering her question directly.
“I…guess, fairness and equality?” Myra responded, feeling like she was being pulled into a trap due to his disregard for answering her own questions.
Bane nodded deeply, appreciating her answer.
“Indeed. The veil strips away bias and interest, revealing the true essence of justice. It is far past the prime for Gotham’s veil to be stripped,” he confessed.
Myra squinted her eyes, turning again to look at him with a confused expression.
“What? How? Why do you keep talking in riddles? What does that
mean?
” Myra chided, her confusion only growing.
What could he possibly mean?
She continued to look at him expectantly as they continued to walk around the parking garage. Myra eventually sighed, seeing that Bane wasn’t going to provide her with any context. She decided to change the subject instead.
“What skill do you wish you had? One that you’ve always wanted to learn, but never did for some reason?” Myra asked, coming up with the question after mentally appraising him for what kind of skills he may need to use to ‘lift the veil of a city’.
She realized he projected confidence on multiple levels, but undoubtedly was multi-talented on several fronts. It would have been impossible for him to accomplish as much as he seemed to have without such talents. She wanted to know what he couldn’t do, or perhaps wished to do. Perhaps even learn a weakness of his.
Fly a helicopter? Blacksmith? Bow hunt? Hold his breath? Fold a napkin properly?
She tried to come up with various skills she imagined he might lack but would one day pick up, if the time afforded him. However, his answer both shocked and amused her.
“Knitting,” he said without hesitation, all-seriousness with no indicator of jest or humor in his voice. He clearly had that answer piled away in his ‘to-do’ list, ready for action.
Myra balked at him. She tried suppressing a laugh, but it burst past her lips before she could stop herself.
"Knitting?
With yarn? Are you teasing me?” she asked, amusement thick in her voice, not caring if she was being impolite with her reaction.
“Of course,
knitting with yarn
. Why would I jest over such a thing?” he asked her, sounding mildly affronted.
Myra just stared at him, her eyebrows rising. Eventually, a slow smile formed on her lips.
“What would you knit first? What would be your first project?” Myra asked, genuinely interested and curious.
Bane answered without hesitation.
“A pair of warm socks never go unappreciated,” he answered, sounding pleased with himself.
Myra smiled at this simple, genuine answer, nodding her head in agreement. Silence settled between them as she very obviously pondered the mental image of him holding two knitting needles while knitting furiously.
“You?” he asked curiously, disrupting her humorous mental image.
Myra brought a hand up to stroke her chin pensively, trying to think of something. With her current predicament on the forefront of her mind, she decided to go with a practical answer.
“I wouldn’t mind being able to defend myself better. Maybe learn karate or judo? I have noodle arms. I want them to be
chopping arms!
” she confided, making a show of chopping the air in front of her.
Bane turned to her, looking her over before nodding, appearing pleased with her answer. Myra could detect amusement on his features as he eyed the pathetic state of musculature in her arms as well as her less-than-graceful chopping gestures.
They eventually made their way back to the utility closet, Myra making the call to end their stroll. She made her way inside, realizing Bane was following her. This surprised her, thinking he would have tired from her company by now and instead would need to retreat to focus on whatever other duties he had on his agenda.
“One round of Scrabble?” he asked politely, taking a seat in the fold-out chair before Myra could answer him.
Myra watched him, taking the seat across from him before giving a nod. She then proceeded to unpack the Scrabble box, dispersing the game elements onto the table. She couldn’t help feeling less-than-enthused. He
always
won. Considerably. There was no chance. She just ended up feeling like an idiot by the end of the game. However, Bane decided to exasperate her feelings regarding her intelligence by asking her riddles throughout the game.
“Riddle me this. I’m not alive, but I can grow. I don’t have lungs, but I need air. What am I?” Bane asked her suddenly as he put down his tiles on the board.
Myra’s eyes shot up to his, confusion spreading across her face. Her features then scrunched up as she contemplated the answer to his question.
“A flower?” she eventually answered, though she knew it was incorrect by the jovial way he rocked back into his chair briefly in what she only assumed was his attempt at stifling his impolite amusement to her wholesome answer.
“Not quite.
Fire
,” he answered, humor thick in his voice before asking his second riddle. “I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest man can’t hold me for much longer than a minute. What am I?” he asked her.
Myra’s eyes roamed over his physique after he asked the riddle, wondering if he was alluding to himself when stating ‘the strongest man’. With no serious answer coming to her mind, she decided to have fun with him.
“An interesting conversation?” she quipped with a smirk, looking down to lay her tiles on the board quickly to avert her gaze. When she was done, she hesitantly brought her eyes back up to his features to assess his reaction to her answer. He was staring daggers at her.
“Wrong.
‘A Breath’
would have been the correct answer, I’m afraid,” he responded sternly, sounding dramatically affronted, though Myra could detect the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes and figured it was just theatrics.
Myra couldn’t help but bring her hand up to cover her mouth, knowing he must have taken her quip as a faux-personal attack to which he was personally insulted and affronted and may never forgive her.
They placed the rest of the game mostly in silence, possibly due to the amount of conversation that had already taken place that day or possibly as punishment for Myra’s snide at Bane’s inability to hold an interesting conversation.
The silence also afforded Myra’s intrusive thoughts to settle in again, particularly as it pertained to her predicament and Bane’s question regarding what she would do on her last day alive. She couldn’t let her guard down. She felt like she needed to do something -
anything -
to get out of here. She couldn’t help but shake his question and why he even might ask it.
After their game was concluded (Bane won), Bane assisted Myra with cleaning up the table and packing the game up. He then nodded to her politely before exiting. Myra nodded in return, her mind still numb from the darkness that had spread across her thoughts. She stood there for several moments watching the door after he closed and locked it.
One more day…
The following day, Barsad unlocked and opened the door to the utility closet. As he was setting the plate of food down and moving to clean out her waste bucket, he eyed Myra, who sat in her chair with an alarmed, worried, scared expression on her face.
As Barsad picked up her waste bucket and made a move to exit, Myra eyed him. She tried to assess whether he had any weapons on his body. Weapons that he might have been instructed to use on her that day due to the uncooperative nature of the Gotham City Police. This was supposedly her last day. She was either going to be released…
or die.
“Any word from the police?” Myra spat out before she could stop herself, wringing her hand together as she waited -
and dreaded
- his answer.
Barsad turned to look at her, his eyes roaming over her features before diverting his attention back to his task at emptying her waste bucket.
“No,” he said gruffly, clearly not understanding the full impact his answer would have on her based on the blase way he left the closet to finish his task without giving her so much as a second glance.
If Barsad had inspected her features more closely, he would have seen that it was obvious from the deep, dark bags under her eyes that she hadn’t slept the previous night. Feelings of dread, looming doom, and death consumed her thoughts, making it impossible to sleep. How could she sleep if she knew that when she woke up, she would be killed any second, minute, or hour that day?
So instead of sleeping, Myra stayed up most of the night thinking. She thought of every possible angle in which she could escape. She couldn’t die like this.
In here
. In an old utility closet in the basement of an abandoned parking garage. There was so much more she wanted to do with her life. She vowed again in her mind that she would be more appreciative of her life and everything around her as well as pursue more opportunities,
if
she were to survive this.
One successful escape scenario she managed to conceive involved Barsad. She felt as if he was possibly slower than Bane, despite Bane’s size. Due to this, she felt like her odds were slightly higher in the event that she was able to make a run for it. The least she could do was get up one level of ramp and scream again, and hopefully attract the attention of a passerby who might hear her and investigate. She knew she had already made an attempt at running for it, but that was when she was already in the closet and it was Bane who was the one that caught her, not Barsad. Barsad wasn’t nearly as imposing or impulsive as Bane, so she felt like the chances of her neck getting snapped immediately due to the slight of attempting to escape was also much lower. She had to try.
Barsad’s answer to her question solidified her plan. She tried hiding the sheer terror and discomfort she felt when Barsad re-entered the closet with a clean waste bucket.
“Could we walk outside the closet, on the bottom level of the parking garage?” Myra asked expectantly as Barsad set her waste bucket down on the floor.
Barsad managed to continue dashing her hopes and dreams with a single word.
“No,” he said cooly, regarding her suspiciously before taking a seat at the card table.
He grabbed the deck of cards smoothly, beginning to shuffle them. Myra stood still, her fingers fidgeting. This was not part of the plan. She had assumed since Bane had allowed her access to the outside for a few laps walk around the garage, Barsad would also. She hadn’t thought of this scenario, so she stumbled to think of a response.
“Why not? Bane allows it…,” she eventually asked, trying to keep her facial expression neutral and innocent despite the absolute dread that had settled in her stomach and mind.
Barsad eyed her, his eyes roaming over her features as if he saw right through her. His focus returned to his cards.
“Bane spoils you,” he said bitterly, making it clear he wasn’t amused and in fact he considered Bane’s attitude to be problematic as far as Myra was concerned.
This comment took Myra by surprise, and it jostled and diluted the pool of dread in her mind and stomach. She felt her jaw shut tight with a ‘clink’ sound, her hands dropping to her sides. She stared at him in mild confusion as she pondered what he said and the implications.
He…spoils me? Is he joking? Bane kidnapped me. How is that spoiling me?
Myra’s eyes focused on Barsad briefly, analyzing him and his attitude towards her as well as the allowances both Bane and Barsad afforded her. She was well aware of how incredibly unusual her situation was. She knew that she could have it
significantly
worse as far as being a prisoner was concerned. She knew it was odd for her captors to give her any amount of time or consideration, particularly with things like providing adequate food, water, a waste bucket, a sleeping bag, requests for a shower, as well as playing board games and being provided with curated reading material. She knew they would have every right to lock her up in the closet with no type of stimulus, feed her sparingly, and let her rot in her own urine and waste. However, they didn’t.
She then thought back on the differences in approach and treatment between Barsad and Bane in the handling of her.
Bane definitely seemed to give her some sort of preferential, special treatment, as far Barsad and being a hostage was concerned. She knew deep down that Barsad was not incorrect in his statement.
Myra was silent for a few moments as she continued to ponder his assessment before she eventually responded.
“How would you know? Have you kept enough hostages to
observe
how he treats them? Maybe
you
just aren’t treating me to standard, hmm?” she quipped sassily, trying to get further clarification and validation that Bane was, indeed, spoiling her. For some reason, that thought excited her. Considerably.
Barsad’s facial expression and the slow rise of his eyes to hers before re-focusing on the task at hand answered Myra’s question.
They have had…HAVE….other hostages? Bane doesn’t have a standard treatment for all of his hostages? I’m treated differently? Why?
She finally sat across from him at the card table, feeling comfortable enough to do so. She couldn’t help but regard the absolute polar mental shift she was currently experiencing. Just moments earlier, she thought she was going to vomit from the negative miasma that throbbed in her brain due to her perceived imminent death. Now, she couldn’t help but feel some level of pleasure and excitement at being regarded as someone worthy enough for special treatment.
Myra wiggled her toes while she continued to ponder this new reality, trying not to let the slow rise of a smile plague her lips. It was difficult to ignore the endorphin high that came from the notion that she was being treated in a ‘spoiled’ manner relative to her peers. Even if the person who was spoiling her was her captor and her peers being other hostages. The brain was a funny, cruel thing.
Barsad made a point of ignoring her, instead opting to focus his attention on finishing their game of cards with minimal conversation moving forward.
When Barsad put his cards down and stood up, Myra’s eyes darted to him. She eyed him as he turned around and exited without so much as a word. The chronic tension that had settled at her shoulders finally eased.
Maybe they aren’t going to kill me today?
When Myra heard Barsad lock the door, Myra was still compulsively wiggling her toes with thoughts of escape briefly eluding her mind, endorphins continuing to cloud her judgment.
The following day, Bane entered the utility closet. Without so much as a greeting, he stood at the entrance expectantly, staring at Myra expectantly.
Myra was sitting in her chair, her facial features and persistent dark rings under her eyes indicators that she had failed to sleep the previous night as well. She watched him with an alarmed look as he stopped at the entrance, holding her breath. She half expected him to pull out a weapon and shoot her then and there with little fanfare. Despite the unexpected reassurances she received from Barsad the previous day, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.
Bane continued to wait at the door before motioning with his arm out the door. This disturbed Myra.
“A-are… you…going to k-kill me out there?” she barely managed to squeak out.
Bane squinted his eyes at her, confusion on his face.
“Pardon?” he asked, clearly not hearing or understanding her.
Myra swallowed, trying to clear her voice and calm her nerves. Moisture started settling at the corners of her eyes as tears threatened to fall down her cheeks.
Buck up. Try to be brave. Don’t start crying.
“It’s…it is day 4? I…I…thought the police had 3 days…?” Myra said, not able to finish her sentence.
3 days to get me out of here before my captors kill me.
Bane’s eyes settled on hers, his eyes analyzing and taking in her features before realization took hold. Slowly, his eyes softened, and Myra thought she detected a form of sadness or empathy behind his eyes.
“It has been four days since the release of that video, yes. The police unfortunately have provided no further direction or communication regarding the matter. However, it is not my intention to end your life. They still hold two of my men, and once their release has been confirmed, so shall yours,” he said, his eyes roaming over her melancholy features.
Myra stared at him, feeling conflicted and confused.
Is he lying? How can I trust him? What if he’s just trying to dress me up for slaughter, getting me comfortable and compliant so that his job will be easier?
Bane certainly picked up on her trepidation to his words and responded by motioning with his arm once more for her to exit the room with him.
“I assumed you would request another stroll? It was my understanding that Barsad denied your request yesterday?” Bane asked, concern laced in his tone.
Myra rushed to her feet at this explanation, moving toward the door and out the exit. Once outside, she waited briefly for Bane to take the initiative to determine which direction they should have their walk. He chose counterclockwise this time.
As they began their walk, Myra noticed that the pace seemed slightly more elevated than the previous day. She quickly dabbed the corners of her eyes and face to rid herself of the moisture that had settled there prior to beginning the walk. It was hard for her not to feel deflated and upset at the complete failure on the part of the Gotham City Police. It made her feel as if the only people that were showing her any sort of thought or care were her captors, which she knew was absolutely ridiculous.
Is it?
Myra decided to make a furious attempt at focusing solely on the walk, and not her imminent death and whether Bane was telling the truth. Whether he was or wasn’t, she had no control over the situation. All she could do was try and appreciate the here and now and how good it felt to be stretching her legs and not be dead.
“At this rate, I’m going to be a miserable sweatball in no time,” Myra eventually chided with mild passive-aggression, her muscles and cardio clearly degraded since being taken as prisoner.
Bane turned his head to regard her, giving her his full attention.
“It is in pushing past such ‘uncomfortable barriers’ that we unearth our inner strength,” he mused thoughtfully.
Myra wasn’t amused by his insight, her expression clearly showing her disgruntledness. She was hoping that this ‘spoiled’ nature that Barsad mentioned the prior day would rear its head now, and possibly persuade Bane into easing up and slowing down their pace. Myra now started to question the accuracy of Barsad’s assessment.
“Oh? You must have done something wrong the last time you were ‘pushing past uncomfortable barriers’, because your inner strength seemed to have popped out all over your body instead of keeping it inside of you nice and quiet-like,” she snided, giving him a glare as her eyes pointedly noted the muscles that sculpted his physique. She was also very clearly sour and miserable over feeling less-than-spoiled as it pertained to both Bane and the Gotham City Police.
Bane was vastly amused by this sassy remark, as shown by the wrinkling that sprung up at the corner of his eyes and the gentle erratic hissing sound behind his mask that Myra could only assume was a muffled chuckle.
“You, my dear, have quite the barbed tongue on you,” he eventually mused.
Myra’s face turned
red.
Silence settled between them as they continued their walk, though it was Bane who eventually spoke up with a question.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asked her curiously.
Myra looked at him quizzically, eyeing him suspiciously before she eventually answered, unsure of his motive behind the question.
“I…I’m not sure to be honest. I haven’t thought about it much. Sometimes it feels like everything happens for a reason, but most other times…it’s just pure chaos. I think it’s cruel to think that I was fated to be here, taken as a hostage…,” she confessed.
Bane nodded in agreement, pleased with her answer.
“Ah, chaos. The crucible in which fate is forged,” he said, sounding very philosophical and contemplative.
Myra raised a brow at him, not sure whether she wanted to know whether he felt he was leading a life of fate, which undoubtedly drove his actions and provided the rationale for her being here. She turned away from him, focusing on the ground in front of them instead. Eventually, a question popped in her mind that she felt compelled to ask, though she knew she could become increasingly uncomfortable depending on his answer.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” she asked hesitantly.
Bane turned his head to regard her, his eyes roaming over her concerned features. He eventually turned back to resume his focus on the ground in front of them.
“Survived,” he confessed.
This answer both shocked and unsettled Myra. It made her inexplicably and profoundly sad. She whipped her head to look at him, trying to gauge the reason for his response. She couldn’t help but conclude that he must have experienced some type of profound loss or tragedy to generate this kind of remark.
Or he was responsible for the profound loss or tragedy of someone else…
“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through to make you feel that way,” Myra eventually said, her eyes focused on him. She couldn’t help but sympathize with him, knowing that despite all he’s done, he was choosing to be vulnerable and honest with her now.
“I pray you never have to,” he responded thoughtfully.
They walked several feet before Bane gave her his full attention.
“Yourself? What’s the worst thing
you’ve
done?” he asked curiously, though Myra could detect amusement in his tone.
Myra couldn’t help but startle at this question and feeling wholly unprepared to answer. She fumbled with her words a bit, providing a few ‘hmms’ and ‘huhs’ before eventually producing a response.
“I stole a piece of candy from the bulk candy dispenser at the grocery store when I was 5. I was so scared that I was going to go to jail, that I cried every time I went to the grocery store for a year or two after that. I thought they would catch me and turn me in and send me to prison where I would stay for the rest of my life,” Myra said, hearing how ridiculous she sounded but still had a very clear idea of the type of trauma she had endured when she was just a child over the whole ordeal.
She covered her face with her hands quickly, trying to hide her feelings of sudden embarrassment. After several seconds of this, however, she felt a hand gently settle on the upper part of her back, giving her a reassuring pat.
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must have felt when you went through such a traumatic event,” Bane said, clearly teasing her and playing on her own response to him earlier to his own trauma.
Myra lowered her hands quickly from her face, gasping in shock at his playful tease. She turned bodily towards him, using both of her hands to push on his arm, trying to bodily shove him away from her.
"BULLY!”
she screamed at him, clearly heated, all remnants of embarrassment driven from her face.
This only fueled Bane’s amusement, who was relatively unphased by her attempts at shoving him. He brought his hands up quickly in front of her in an attempt at a truce.
“Truce! Forgive me…I apologize for my incensitivities,” he said, though Myra wasn’t sure how sincere his apology was.
Myra slapped his raised hands away, her steps and the swing of her fists slightly more vigorous than just moments before. Her lips were also set in a very thin line though she did mumble every few seconds or so. By this point, she truly was a miserable, sweaty sweatball.
“I think I’ve had enough walking for today,” she confessed, physically and mentally worn out.
Myra turned her head to assess Bane’s mood, seeing that he seemed light in his step and didn’t appear to feature any furrowed brows. To Myra, this indicated he was going to be generally more obliging to requests. She decided if she were to ask for a wash, this was her only opportunity.
“Do you mind if I have a rinse? I’d prefer ridding myself of this layer of sweat…” she mumbled out, fanning out her shirt to try and dry it out from sweat.
Bane turned to her, his eyes roaming over her to assess her physical state. Seeing that she truly was moderately sweaty, he nodded his head in agreement.
“Of course,” he agreed.
Myra hustled forward to the utility closet to quickly retrieve the shampoo and soap before he changed his mind. She grabbed a spare change of clothes and underwear as well.
Upon returning to the exterior of the closet, she saw that he had already started the hose. She approached him with the contents in her hands. Without further instruction, she grabbed the shampoo bottle and opened it, bending forward at the waist near the running hose water so that Bane could begin soaking her hair over the drain. He did so obligingly. After getting her hair sufficiently damp, she straightened her posture and began lathering her head with soap for several minutes. She eyed him as she performed this task, who eyed her in return with considerable patience. Wordlessly, she bent forward again as an indicator for him to rinse her hair. He obliged.
Once finished, she straightened up, looking down at her clothes and soap, realizing she forgot to grab the towels also. Not wanting to leave a trail of water all over the inside of the small utility closet, she turned to him.
“Would you mind grabbing the towels from the closet? I forgot to grab them,” she asked as she began wringing out her hair.
Bane eyed her, but complied by placing the hose down gently and made his way to the closet.
Myra was in the middle of the act of wringing out her hair when an idea suddenly snapped into her head. Before she had time to process it, her feet started acting upon their own volition as she scampered towards the utility closet as quiet as she could, adrenaline and the sense of self-preservation pumping through her veins.
Don’t let your guard down. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t let your guard down.
Myra swiftly grabbed the handle to the closet of the utility closet door and shut it, locking it quickly.
With Bane inside.
She immediately heard the fierce pounding of a mighty fist against the door.
“Open this door immediately,” Bane managed to say in a controlled tone as he continued to pound on the door with one of his fists.
Myra didn’t answer, but instead stared at the door for several seconds, shock and fear pulsing through her. She couldn’t help but feel an electric-like chill run up her spine at Bane’s threatening command aimed directly at her.
She didn’t allow herself to ponder the threat in his voice for too long. Instead, she turned around and
RAN FOR HER LIFE.
She made it halfway across the lower parking garage level before she heard the loudest metallic crunching noise she had heard in her life. She braved a look over her shoulder to investigate what the noise was and saw that the door to the utility closet had been fully knocked down.
How….? What? How is that possible?
She then saw Bane exit, huffing, agitation clearly fueling him. He locked his eyes onto her.
He then charged after her.
Myra couldn’t help but let out a shrill cry when she saw him barrel towards her. She turned her focus back around and willed her legs to move faster, for her life’s sake.
Myra only made it several more meters before she felt a large mass collide into her from behind with enough force to knock her forward towards the ground. She immediately lost her footing but felt a pair of massive arms envelop her with one large hand cupping the back of her head as she fell forward. She thought she was going to be summarily squashed like an insect, but instead felt her body shift and roll several times as they hit the ground. They made several full rolls on the ground before they stopped, Myra finding herself on top of the mass.
Bane.
Myra only had seconds to ponder and marvel at the fact that she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries from the ordeal. The hand behind her head had expertly held it in a way that prevented it from slamming against the hard concrete ground, and the massive arms that curled around her prevented her body from getting bruised and jostled. When her mind finally caught up to her, she of course started struggling, trying to wiggle away from Bane with as much strength as she could muster.
It was futile.
She couldn't even move an inch. She was merely exhausting herself. His hold was too secure. She couldn’t even move her hands up to try and pry or claw at his face as a distraction. One of his legs had also managed to curl around the back of hers to prevent her from kicking into him. Myra let out several agitated, exhausted huffs before she eventually calmed down enough to re-evaluate her situation.
Then, the feeling of insurmountable grief consumed her. She did the only thing she could do. She started sobbing uncontrollably.
Myra knew she was beaten. Myra also knew that Bane had threatened severe consequences were she to attempt any additional escape attempts. Was he going to kill her? Squash her to death?
Twist her neck?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was going to die. Painfully. And there was no escape. Her despair finally caught up with her in a very physical manifestation as she continued to bawl, her whole body shaking, waiting for him to squeeze and snuff the life out of her.
Bane, for his part, must have anticipated some sort of emotional reaction from Myra. He held her as they lay prone on the ground, cupping the back of her head against his chest, absorbing the convulsions from Myra’s sobs.
Myra’s face became immediately moist with tears and mucus. Unable to bring a hand up to wipe away the moisture on her face, it simply ran down onto Bane's shirt. Several long minutes passed before Myra realized that she was still alive, and Bane’s arms hadn’t squeezed the life out of her. This notion calmed her down somewhat, the sobs that racked her body ebbing slightly. She felt Bane’s arms ease up around her then, still holding her tight against his body as they lay on the ground. She could finally navigate her hands up to her face and brush away the uncomfortable mess that had coated her features. She also felt him unlock the leg that had curled around the back of hers.
She took liberties by using the cloth of his shirt to clear the glob of mucus that had settled below her nose. Whether Bane noticed or cared, Myra wasn’t certain. What she was certain about was that the hand that had held her head securely in place had shifted slightly, his fingers splaying to gingerly tuck and lace through her hair. Myra couldn’t help but admire the tender feel of his fingertips as they tingled across her scalp idly.
She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she cuffed them together and brought them up near her throat, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. She tried relaxing her body against his, finding it mildly difficult considering their unfamiliar proximity to each other and every muscle of his that she felt against her skin as she lay prone over him. It was a constant reminder to her that he had the capacity to end her life in a moment's notice, should he desire. She couldn't help but feel her body tense up, feeling intimidated by his sheer size and strength.
Myra honestly thought Bane was going to twist or break her neck, or even use his strength to crush her lungs. When instead she continued to feel the comfort of his hands as they gingerly laced through her hair, with his other hand moving to rest lightly at her lower back, she was too stunned to speak. He did nothing more than hold her, his movements indicating nothing sinister or malicious on his part or that he may have an ulterior motive.
They stayed that way for several more minutes, the only sound being Myra’s receding sobs and sniffles and the mechanical sound of Bane’s mask. When Myra’s sobs and sniffles had finally receded, she let out a breath, trying to release the tension that had built up inside of her. She then mustered up the composure to speak.
“Why is no one trying to get me out of here…? Have they forgotten about me? Am I too unimportant? Not worth it? Is this where I’m meant to die?” Myra confided sadly, tears threatening to consume her once more at the feeling of being completely and utterly alone in this world.
Myra felt Bane’s hand adjust against her scalp as he combed her hair lightly with the tips of his fingertips.
“There are authorities working on your release as we speak. Why are you so committed to risking your life, in the meantime?” Bane mused, clearly trying to ease the tension.
Myra furrowed her brows, feeling like the answer should be obvious. She also couldn’t help but mentally laugh at the absurdity of receiving emotional support from her captor.
“How can I trust you? I…I don’t want to die down here…” she confessed.
Myra felt the hand at her lower back give her a reassuring rub.
“Nor will you. The prospect of freedom can be a taunting, cruel mistress. She can blind and corrupt your thoughts with promises of comfort and safety. Of control. Of power…,” he said. “Don’t blind yourself. Have I provided lies to you thus far?” he asked.
Myra pondered this statement, not sure how to respond. Her eyes eventually shifted up to his, her brows furrowing at the hypocrisy of his statement.
“You said the police were going to get me out in just a few days. Also, did you not try to escape when you were in prison? You must have, because here you are…” she sniped.
Myra saw Bane’s features soften in amusement. She felt his fingers stiffen subtly before they resumed their idle strokes.
“The police’s actions are outside of my control, unfortunately. I’m also intimately familiar with the bitterness of captivity and the aromatic allure of freedom. However, I had resigned to my fate after several failed attempts that nearly left me broken and crippled in both body and soul. It was later in my imprisonment that I was eventually granted liberation,” he confessed. “Once you’ve tasted the bitterness of captivity, every breath of freedom becomes a precious gift, as you will soon discover for yourself,” he continued reassuringly, his focus turning towards the ceiling of the underground parking garage.
Myra felt speechless by the information he just provided her. It left her silent for several moments. She pondered the life he must have led. The life that she should be leading right now. She also felt a slow rise of anger, distrust, and betrayal on the part of the Gotham City Police.
I pay my taxes, right? Why aren’t they doing a better job getting me out of here?
She was also astonished by the amount of genuine comfort she was receiving both mentally and physically from Bane. It was unsettling to feel like her captor was giving her more thought and consideration than anyone else in the world. It was remarkable how tender he was being, his actions gentle and his caresses reassuring, performed expertly in a way that didn't feel rigid or forced. She also knew what a spectacle they must be, with Bane laying passively on his back on the cement parking lot floor with his arms around Myra on top of him, her legs nestled between both of his. She couldn't help but blush. Myra’s eyes eventually turned back towards Bane, her eyes roaming over his features now that she was mere inches away.
“Barsad said you spoil me,” Myra confessed hesitantly, shyly, almost in a whisper.
Bane’s expression lightened considerably.
“Barsad has a keen eye,” Bane confessed in a faux-begrudging tone, the hand at her scalp providing a brief, indicative massage.
Myra saw Bane’s gaze shift to hers. She watched as his eyes roamed over her face, taking in her swollen cheeks and moisture from the tears that overtook her. He smoothed the wet hair at the back of her scalp down gently with his palm, obviously disheveled from having been tackled.
Myra stared at him for several moments before the mechanical sound of his mask drew her focus. She looked at it curiously. It looked so much different this close to her own face. Without thinking, she brought her hand up tentatively and placed several fingertips on the tip of his mask.
“Why…do you wear this?” Myra asked, her fingers gently exploring the contraption.
Bane allowed her to take in the tactile feel of his mask and explore it for several moments before she eventually felt him shift and bring a hand up to envelop hers. He then gently moved her hand away, settling it on the upper part of his chest, keeping his hand snuggly folded over hers to settle it in place. Myra’s eyes moved down to focus on their joined hands. He seemed to ponder for an answer for several moments before responding.
“It keeps the pain at bay,” he confessed, almost reluctantly, as if he were sharing a bit of information that wasn’t meant for public consumption.
“Pain?
What pain?
” Myra asked with confusion and concern, her eyes refocusing on his.
Bane angled his head to gaze at her, marking the sincerity in her tone. His eyes roamed over her face before he responded.
“It’s no matter. It’s an artifact of the past,” he conceded.
Myra’s gaze shifted away from his as she pondered his need for a mask. She had almost thought he wore it for theatrics in an attempt to scare those around him. She hadn’t thought about the possibility that it was a tool or a medical device to keep his pain under control.
He must have gotten it by doing something awful…why else make it look so sinister?
Myra’s eyebrows furrowed together as she contemplated this potential revelation.
What kind of awful things could he have done? Murder people? Kidnapped people….?
Myra’s face took on a startled expression as she continued her uncomfortable train of thought.
He kidnapped
YOU,
you idiot
.
What are you DOING? He’s a TERRORIST. YOU’VE SEEN HIM HURT AND KILL PEOPLE. GET OFF OF HIM. NOW. NOW. NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW.
Myra pushed herself away from Bane abruptly. The loose hold that Bane had on her didn’t constrict or stop her as she rolled away, springing to her feet with a huff. She tensely stood there as she watched Bane slowly ease himself off of the ground with a soft groan of exertion, his features passive and unconcerned by her sudden apparent disgust at being in such close proximity to him. He did eye her, though, as he fully stood up to his full height. Myra turned away, choosing to stare at the ground instead, her cheeks flushed.
Myra heard Bane shuffle in his pocket. She shifted her gaze curiously, seeing him take out a phone and open it. She watched as he typed out a message before pocketing the phone once more. Myra turned to him expectantly, unsure of what was going to happen now that the door to her closet was useless.
Bane returned her gaze, crossing his arms and providing no further clarification. They stood that way in uncomfortable silence for approximately 10 minutes before Myra heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. She saw several men, obviously Bane’s, approach with supplies in their hands. They made it to the utility closet without saying a word and went to work fixing the door with their tools at hand.
Bane and Myra stood watching in silence as the men worked on the door. They were efficient and skilled, for it only took a handful of minutes before the door was back up on its hinges and functioning properly once more. The men retreated back out of the parking garage, one of the men turning towards Bane and Myra with a curious glance before fully exiting.
Bane motioned his massive arm towards the door, a clear indicator that he wasn’t going to humor her by allowing her to finish cleaning up with the hose. Myra shuffled towards it grudgingly, turning around when she was halfway in to look at him. She couldn’t help but fixate on the large wet mucus glob that had appeared on the upper part of his shirt. Bane didn’t enter after her, also a clear indication that he had no intention of staying to amuse her with board games, puzzles, or riddles. He did issue her a strong warning, however.
“It is rare for me to provide an individual a second chance, let alone a third. Don’t squander it,” he said sternly before shutting the door with a loud metallic clunk and locking it.
Myra stared at the door, speechless.
.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The following morning when Barsad entered the utility closet with a tray of food in hand, Myra’s eyes darted up to him. What she saw surprised her. It was something she had never seen before.Barsad was smiling. Granted, it was a very faint smile. She wasn’t even sure whether to categorize it as ‘a smile’ necessarily, and perhaps it was more of a smirk. Regardless, there was definitely a faint upturn of his lips. Myra watched him as he placed food and water in front of her before tending to her waste bucket outside. When he returned, he took his usual seat across from her at the fold-out card table.Still smiling. Smirking. He continued to provide no clues or context for what motivated his apparent jovial mood.Myra simply watched him as he dealt out the cards, focusing on them for a second before her eyes lifted up briefly over her handful of fanned out cards in her hand to eye him. There he was. Still smirking. She couldn’t handle it anymore. Her curiosity was too aggressive.“What are you smirking at?” Myra eventually asked, her tone just a tad on the defensive side. Do I have something on my face? Barsad remained silent. This caused the hackles on Myra’s back to rise, feeling like there may be a sinister reason for his sudden good-naturedness. She froze, putting her cards down to stare daggers at him. “What? ” She shot again, even more defensively than before. Barsad’s lazy focus shifted up to hers briefly before returning back to his cards. Again, he chose not to provide clarification, instead choosing to place a card on the table to draw a new one. Myra silently fumed, her fingers tensing around the cards in her hand. She glared at him, finally feeling compelled to bring a hand up to her face to try and wipe off whatever it was that was bringing him such obvious amusement. Feeling and sensing nothing there, she shot him another reproachful look.“Why are you smiling? Do I have something on my face?” Myra asked abrasively, clearly not appreciating being left out of whatever joke it was he was playing at. Barsad’s gaze shifted back up to hers briefly, analyzing her before his eyes shifted back to his cards. Then it dawned on her.He was smiling because of her failed escape attempt the previous day. He thinks it’s FUNNY that I’m trapped here and failed at escaping? That I risked my LIFE DOING SO? What an ASSHOLE. This, of course, enraged her. She stood up abruptly from her chair, nearly knocking the table with all of its contents onto the floor. She went so far as to take a step towards him, swiping the cards out of his hand with a backhand swat of her hand. Barsad watched as his cards tumbled to the floor. “You think it’s funny that I risked my life to escape? That I failed? ” Myra spat, her fists clenched into fists. She stood directly in front of him, using considerable restraint to simply not slap him in the face. Barsad was taken aback by her sudden outburst, his eyebrows raising subtly. Despite this, he remained calm and passive with his signature lazy stare. He blinked several times to focus on her, confusion spreading across his face at her sudden need to redistribute his cards onto the cement floor as well as her confrontational attitude. He finally provided clarification after realizing Myra was barreling down the wrong rabbit hole.“Of course not. Also, you did not fail miserably …” he said, eyeing her with what she thought was a hint of admiration while also looking mildly affronted. Myra stared at him with a mix of confusion and shock before a new realization finally set in. She had it all wrong. He wasn’t smiling because she failed. He was smiling because she undoubtedly succeeded where most could not: she managed to trick Bane by locking him in the utility room closet. He found humor in her getting the better of Bane, if only for a few moments. She could only imagine the conversation that went on between Bane and Barsad for him to even know what happened.Myra also felt a lightbulb go off in her head, feeling like for the first time that she was able to suddenly understand his predominant use of non-verbal communication. For some reason, the subtle upturn of his brow and the manner of his gaze mixed with a dash of admiration told her exactly why he was smiling. She had just been too absorbed in her own personal self-consciousness to notice. Myra’s face suddenly burned from embarrassment. She quickly picked up the cards that she had smacked onto the floor out of his hand and put them in front of him. She then quickly sat back down in her chair, attempting to casually resume the game without further fuss. She kept her eyes averted on her cards with laser-focus. Eventually, she heard Barsad speak up again.“Bravo,” he said unexpectedly with a tone that did not sound mocking, but sounded like genuine, sincere praise with a hint of persistent humor. Myra sat stunned. Her eyes darted to him to stare. Her cheeks burned red. She couldn’t believe it; Barsad was actually giving her a compliment. A sincere compliment. She had a feeling that his compliments were few and far between. She of course didn’t want to admit to Barsad that the events from the previous day had been a series of lucky circumstances that seemed to be in her favor. She hadn’t planned on trapping Bane in the closet. The opportunity had simply presented itself. It was merely an accident that she had left her towels in the closet. It had not been a well-thought-out plan. At all. She decided to continue to remain silent, knowing she would give herself away if she spoke on the matter. They continued their game mostly in silence, which she knew was Barsad’s preference. However, he surprised her once more when he spoke after standing up to leave after their final game of cards.“Do you need more food or water?” he asked her quietly, pausing as he stood up from the table. Myra’s eyes darted to him in surprise, feeling like her mouth was about to fall open. She kept it shut tight so that she wouldn’t appear like the simple-minded fool that she currently felt she was. Not only did he speak, but he asked a question . And a question that was very obviously aimed at improving her state of comfort. “Um….” she said, decisions overwhelming her brain. She felt herself become paralyzed with indecision. Is he…rewarding me for getting the better of Bane? Is that a thing? She eventually focused enough to give him a more logical response.“Perhaps…a treat? If there are any of those wonderful cookies left? Another bottle of water would be helpful too…or some milk?!” she asked, not sure if she was being too needy, despite him being the one asking. Barsad took in her requests silently and nodded to her before exiting the door. Myra stared at the closed door for several moments, processing the strange interaction that just took place. She tried to tamper down her expectations, convincing herself that he very well could be toying with her and had no intention of providing her with additional items. Intuitively, though, she knew he was sincere. Barsad stood in the make-shift kitchen in the underground tunnel system with a toothpick sticking out the side of his mouth as he methodically prepared the food, snack, and drink that Myra had requested. As he finished up his quick prep and was on the verge of exiting the kitchen, something caught his eye. In the opposite corner of the kitchen were three men. They appeared to be huddled, engaging in some sort of quiet conversation. They were men that had been recruited directly from Gotham City’s local gangs and crime syndicates, to which Barsad always operated with a healthy level of suspicion and disgust. They were less skilled, less loyal, and less disciplined compared to Bane’s men, as far as Barsad was concerned. He discretely observed their body language, noting that they communicated in what appeared to be a personal, clandestine exchange. Barsad, being mildly curious as well as cautious and extremely vigilant, inched closer to overhear the exchange, making sure to appear consumed in the busywork of preparing food. After several moments of eavesdropping, Barsad was able to catch the words “she” and “hostage”. The only ‘she-hostage’ that Barsad was aware of was Myra. Barsad took it upon himself to continue monitoring them, skeptical that they may have malicious intent. It was possible they discovered Myra’s location from one of the men that had worked on the utility closet door the previous day. Having not been present, he could only assume that Bane chose to delegate that type of grunt work to the Gotham City men, and one of those men had loose lips. Barsad abandoned the food and drink he had prepared at the table when he observed the men leave the kitchen. He took the initiative to follow them. He kept a comfortable, casual distance, making sure not to draw their attention. He followed them for several minutes until they eventually sauntered off down the broad tunnel hallway that would eventually lead to a manhole exit. This hallway wasn't commonly used, however, since it only had one manhole to choose from. This particular manhole itself also wasn’t commonly utilized. It was the manhole that was used to access the exterior of a parking garage. The same parking garage that Myra currently resided in.Barsad gave a quiet sigh, spitting his toothpick out onto the ground before he carefully turned around to make his way to search for Bane.Myra idly sifted through the pages of a book she had already read, wishing she had requested additional reading material from Barsad also before he left. As she was trying to find the correct chapter, she noticed the door to the utility closet slowly open. She set her book down on the fold-out table and stood up.“Hey, one more thing…can you go and grab me some more books?” Myra asked quickly, feeling rude for even asking, but she figured she might as well take advantage of the situation while Barsad’s mood allowed it. Also, she was bored. When the door finally opened, she immediately realized it wasn’t Barsad. In fact, she saw three men at the door, peering in expectantly. Her eyes shifted to each face until she settled on the third face, thinking he looked familiar. She squinted, trying to recall where she might have last seen him. He was here yesterday, fixing the door. Reality hadn’t quite sunk in yet until they all proceeded to enter into the small room, their expressions conveying ill-intent. Myra’s eyes went wide as she slowly backed up into the corner, fear sprinting up her spine. She felt completely numb and speechless, her mind racing to decide what to do. She then looked around the room for anything that she could use as a shield or a weapon in case the need arose. As she locked onto one of the fold-out chairs and dove for it, one of the men stepped forward aggressively to move the chair out of her reach. The rest of the men sauntered in behind him.“Now now…we wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt, would we?” he said to her in an extremely insincere manner. Myra quickly scuttled back to the corner in the closet, pressing the palms of her hands behind her on the wall, ready to propel herself away if need be. "See? I told you guys. All alone down here….," he said over his shoulder to the other two individuals.Myra shifted her eyes to the two other occupants, both of them looking less confident than Mr. Fix-It, who had a smug look on his face. They had entered with visible skepticism, perhaps not believing Mr. Fix-It’s word that a woman was alone down in the closet and they wanted him to prove it. Well, here they were. Proving it. Now that he had, their skepticism had shifted to mild concern due to possibly realizing that they may be in a precarious situation. "Alright, I believe you…I'm pretty sure the boss wouldn't be too happy finding us down here, though…" one of them stammered out.The other one chimed in, agreeing with him."Yeah, Jay, we shouldn't be here. It seemed clear this place was off-limits. I don’t think we are even supposed to know about this place,” he uttered out. Jay wrote them off with a wave of his hand."Quit being so scared. The bosses won't be down here for the rest of the day. I know their schedule, remember?" he said with unfounded confidence.Myra stared wide-eyed during the entire exchange, back and forth between the men, hoping – wishing , their conclusion would be in her favor. When one of the men reached behind his head to scratch idly as if juggling the pros and cons of the situation, he finally sighed as if in agreement. Myra's heart sank.Jay turned to look at Myra. Fear consumed her features. "Hey honey, don't worry. We won't hurt you. We only wanna touch. It gets pretty lonely down here…you must be lonely too. Don't you want to do us a favor?" he said in a faux-sweet tone. Myra swallowed nervously, not sure if he was being rhetorical or genuine with his question. She decided he was being genuine."No," she stammered out.Jay pretended to be hurt by her answer, bringing up a hand to his heart as if feigning his heart being crushed."Oh…that hurts, sweetheart. You should make it up to me," he said as he slowly advanced towards her. Myra reacted by sliding herself against the wall in the opposite direction he was approaching from but was eventually impeded by the severe lack of square footage in the room.Jay finally made his way to her, standing a foot directly in front of her. She could smell his stink, deciding it was his personality she was smelling and not just his body odor. He lifted a hand to touch her face. She flinched away instinctively from the unwelcome touch. Jay responded by grabbing her chin forcibly, letting one of his dirty thumbs slide along her bottom lip. Myra brought up both hands to try and remove his hand from her chin, but he simply swatted them away. She paused briefly to collect herself. Then, suddenly, she chomped down onto his hand, drawing blood."OWWW WWWWW ! DAMN IT . GOD….DAMN…! BITCH!" Jay shouted, bringing a hand up to strike. Myra flinched away, thinking he meant to slap her, but was shocked when she felt the force of a punch hitting her right in the eye. She lurched sideways against the wall from the force of the blow, struggling to find her footing after losing her balance. She brought her hand up to cover her injured eye, and as she did so she felt Jay roughly grab her by the arm and swing her around so that she was pressed firmly face-first against the cold cement wall. She heard him reach towards his belt briefly before suddenly feeling something sharp and abruptly sting against the side of her throat. "Damn bitch …gah that stings . Try that again and I’ll slit your throat. Guys, help me hold her still," Jay ordered the other two men as he adjusted the knife into his other hand, keeping a firm pressure against her neck. The two men reluctantly moved forward and stood on either side of Myra, each taking one of her arms. They held her forcefully, keeping her body firmly in place against the cement wall. Jay, with his primary hand now free, reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt. He lifted it up slightly before she felt his hand duck under and snake around to grab hold of one of her breasts. He squeezed uncomfortably hard. She used all of her willpower not to scream and lash out at the invasiveness of it all, instead internalizing the utter disgust she felt. She could also feel wetness pooling down her front from the cut to her neck, wondering how bad it was. After several long moments of being groped, she then felt him remove his hand from her breast before dropping it to work at the hardware at the front of his pants suggestively. "We have to do this quickly, otherwise we each won’t get a turn…" he said through impatient breaths, his voice full of anticipation. Myra's ears were ringing, her eyes blooming with tears. What…what…what do I do to deserve this? Why is this happening to me? When she felt him grab hold of the waistband of her sweatpants and tug down, she started to scream and struggle against the two men holding her. This only made Jay mad, who immediately slapped the side of her face with an open palm. "Stop it or we'll sew your mouth shut ," he breathed threateningly into the back of her head, deciding now was the best time to finally finish unzipping his pants with his free hand.Myra cringed at the shock of the hand making contact with the side of her face. She closed her eyes, reeling. She felt a ringing in her ears, forcing her to keep her eyes closed from the discomfort. She then made a mental plea, hoping that if she couldn’t see anything then nothing bad could happen to her. She wasn't ready for this. Her ears started ringing again, tears now freely falling down her cheeks.Jay was too busy finishing the task of unzipping his zipper to unleash his growing arousal and the two men were too busy holding and watching Myra to notice the massive shadow that suddenly loomed from the door frame. As Jay finished working his zipper down, on the verge of exposing himself, he turned and saw the expression of one of the men holding Myra. The man was looking straight at the door. He looked like he was about to wet himself. Jay looked down after being distracted from the faint sound of water dripping. He observed a yellow urine trail not from Myra, but from one of the men holding Myra. It started at his crotch and stretched all the way down to his foot where it drizzled lazily on the floor. Jay snapped his head around to see what instilled so much terror into this man, trying (in vain) to quickly zip his pants back up. He had barely turned around before a giant hand encased his face. Another one reached for his neck and immediately started crushing his windpipe. Bane squeezed hard enough to hear neck bone audibly cracking before unceremoniously discarding the body to the floor. The other two men had stood paralyzed in fear. After witnessing the death of their friend, they must have concluded that their only chance of survival was through the use of offensive fighting against Bane. Unfortunately, both of them seemed too scared or shocked to make the first move. Bane took advantage of their paralyzing hesitancy, stomping forward to effortlessly lift one of them up full-body to be thrown at the other, both of their bodies colliding and landing on the floor in a tangled, screaming heap. Bane stepped towards and over them before they could right themselves and stand up from their tangled-limbed mess. By this point, Myra had receded to the safety of the corner of the closet, pressing her face into the wall while trying to ignore the sounds of terror, shouting, and gore. Bane let his weight drop down knee-first on one of them, the point of his knee landing directly on the skull of the first man in front of him. His knee strained against their head for a brief moment before gravity and Bane’s mass became too much for the structural integrity of a human skull. A crunch and a 'pop' were heard, skull cracking from the friction of kneecap against bone. Bane stayed kneeling in the pulpy mess while he reached over and dealt with the other man who had the misfortune of being stuck under the limp body of a dead man with a crushed skull. Bane kept it simple by snatching out like a viper and crunching the final man’s throat effortlessly like popcorn, suffocating him instantly. Once Bane was done with this chore, he gave a deep sigh and looked around at the carnage. His demeanor quickly transitioned from one of raging chaos back to composed tactician with two deep breaths. After he calmed himself, his eyes lifted to Myra, who stood petrified in the corner. Her face and body were still planted against the wall, her hands now covering her face. Her whole body trembled. Bane stood up from the bloody ground with a grunt, turning towards Barsad who had appeared at the doorway, standing idly. He undoubtedly witnessed the whole ordeal, though his expression was one of boredom and disinterest. "Arrange to have this mess cleaned up," Bane told Barsad, using a pointed finger for emphasis.Barsad nodded, though he did eye the blood and urine on the floor skeptically."Those men are forbidden from accessing the inner base, is that understood? Perimeter guard and patrol, only," Bane continued, his brows furrowed as he glared at Barsad. Barsad understood Bane's reference to 'those men' as the Gotham City recruits; the same men that seemed to be skirting along the edges of tolerance as far as Bane was concerned due to their chronic need to showcase their lack of obedience, integrity, and ability to follow orders.Barsad gave another curt not to this new set of orders, knowing socializing these particular orders would produce its own set of pain points. He then turned away to assumedly locate the proper tools and supplies to carry out his orders. Bane then turned back to give his full attention to Myra. He stepped over the bodies and organic matter on the floor with care, not wanting to draw attention to the carnage by stepping on anything that might emit a ‘crunch’ or a ‘squish’ sound. Myra kept her face covered with both of her hands, her body shaking uncontrollably. She continued to tremble until she suddenly felt a soft grip take hold of her upper arm and gently turn and ease her away from the wall with considerable care. “Shh…I’m here now. Look at me,” Bane ordered as if he were coaxing a frightened cat from under the bed, easing her around to face him. Myra obeyed, her eyes shyly lifting to meet his. She had known it was he who had stopped her assaulters simply based on the proficiency of death paired with the cool, unmistakable sound of his mechanically amplified breathing as he made work of those men. However, physically seeing him directly in front of her with her own eyes abruptly instilled a significant amount of relief, safety, and comfort in her mind. She felt it swell inside of her and calm her nerves like a warm blanket, eliminating the trembling chills she had been experiencing up to that point from the shock and terror of the situation. Her eyes instinctively softened and relaxed as they roamed over his features, this feeling of solace and relief unexpected but not unwelcome. Her mouth fell open briefly at the abrupt feeling, not even realizing the recent shift she must have made mentally to internally categorize him in such a positive light, considering the circumstances surrounding their acquaintance. It was instinctual. Uncontrollable. It was almost as if her body knew he was her safe haven even before her mind did. Warn me next time, stupid brainless body. Bane’s eyes, which had been stern and severe up to that point, softened and relaxed upon seeing hers do the same. They roamed over her face, taking in her condition and the wounds on her face. Her face turned red as she continued to watch him and felt the visual scrutiny. She also felt the itch of curiosity after several moments as she strained not to look at the carnage on the floor around them. Her imagination ran wild, only being able to assume what had occurred based on the brief sound of a struggle followed by the stomach-churching crunches, splitting, snapping, organic matter spilling, oozing and biological squelches that she heard perfectly from the corner of the closet. She could also smell it - the urine and the blood overpowering. He killed his own men…because of me. She suddenly lost her composure and focus, her eyes darting quickly to the floor at what she could only see as a red mass from her peripheral vision. She wasn’t able to gain focus or determine what the actual shape or object was, however, for she felt Bane’s hand quickly but gently grab her chin and guide her face back towards his. “Keep your eyes on mine,” he ordered quietly. She then felt him use the crook of his finger to tenderly clear the tears under her eyes before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a smear of blood that had trickled down the side of her mouth and onto her shirt from the bite she had delivered onto her assaulters. Her throat caught at being touched so intimately. His eyes then continued to roam over her face and neck, taking in her injuries as his gaze settled on the injury at her neck.Myra felt his hand move up to probe and examine the cut before migrating to the side of her cheek. She watched as he investigated the area around her eye, where it was undoubtedly swelling due to the assault she endured. His hand settled there to either block her peripheral vision or to continue gently probing at the injuries on her face. She reciprocated by bringing up her own hand to cover his, squeezing gently, trying to anchor herself back to reality and the feeling of safety and comfort. She couldn’t help but feel relieved as the sense of terror and dread continued to ease out of her muscles and mind at a seemingly expedited pace, his handling of her a complete contrast to what she had endured moments prior. She also continued to marvel at how genuinely safe she felt as her eyes roamed up to Bane’s… “OW-” Myra suddenly gasped, recoiling. Myra winced when she felt Bane’s thumb press a tad bit too firmly on the bruising skin under her eye. She convulsively squeezed and held his hand in an attempt to prevent him from probing any further. Bane eased his thumb away quickly, the brow that had been furrowed over one eye in concentration suddenly raised apologetically as he continued to analyze her, silently heading her request by providing no further physical inspection. He then slowly removed his hand from under hers and eased the hold he had on her cheek after giving it one final gentle swipe to clear away moisture, grime, and blood. Myra continued to stare at him, seeing concern intermingled with anger on his face. She watched as he dug into one of his pockets, removing a piece of cloth. Myra eyed it as he brought it up to her face, thinking he meant to use it as a cleaning tool. “Forgive me. I will require the use of a blindfold in order to relocate you,” he said as he gently tied the piece of cloth firmly around her eyes. The last thing Myra saw was Bane’s face as he blanketed her vision with the make-shift handkerchief. She then felt him gently guide her away from the wall, taking position behind her to nudge her forward.“Watch your step, please…” she heard Bane whisper into her ear from behind. He managed to navigate her around the obstacles on the floor, keeping both hands on her shoulders to apply pressure as an indicator of which direction to turn towards. They stopped briefly at what she assumed was the entrance of the closet, Bane stepping away from her briefly before returning. She jumped slightly when she suddenly felt a hand on her foot, gently guiding it into one of her shoes before navigating to her other shoeless foot. He seemed to be practicing the same level of care and discretion as the Prince from Cinderella. She then heard Bane stand up before feeling his hands relocate to her shoulders to guide her out of the closet. She did so with a sigh of relief. The smell of urine and blood had consumed her nostrils by now. It had been nauseating. He continued to guide her across the basement level of the underground parking garage before making the incline upwards to the top levels. She only tripped a handful of times, and each time Bane managed to stop her from face-planting on the ground by adjusting his hold on her to steady her and allow her to regain her balance. It was hard to assess how many levels they climbed, but she knew they had made their exit outside when she felt a sudden cold chill slap against her exposed skin. She gasped, immediately regretting it as the inhalation of cold air momentarily paralyzed her lungs. Myra tried to orient herself in terms of which direction they were facing but failed miserably. She knew this was possibly due to being inherently directionally impaired. All she knew was that Bane kept her walking for several blocks, stopping her briefly several times in what she assumed was an attempt at keeping their presence discreet. The thought of screaming crossed her mind briefly to try and get someone’s attention but knew the hand on her shoulder would make quick work at stopping her from making noise. Bane interrupted her train of thought by stopping her suddenly. She felt him remove his hands from her shoulders before shuffling around her. She then heard the grating sound of metal-on-concrete. “I’m going to lower you down…slowly….take hold of the ladder when you feel it,” Bane said, taking hold of her hands suddenly and rotating her where she stood. Confusion overwhelmed her, unable to determine what he meant until suddenly she felt herself being lifted up effortlessly by her arms, inches from the ground, only to be lowered into what she could assume was a hole. She startled, balking, a sound of terror escaping her lips. “Use your hand and reach forward…” Bane ordered, ignoring her apparent discomfort. Myra suddenly felt Bane let go of one of her hands, which only fueled her terror. She did as she was instructed, however, and groped in front of her blindly. She immediately felt a cold steel horizontal handlebar. She grasped onto it like her life depended on it. She then swung her feet forward, finding her footing on that same ladder. Bane waited until she appeared to have a steady hold before he released her other hand. She immediately used it to grab hold of the latter. “Climb down, slowly …there are approximately 30 rungs before you reach the bottom,” Bane instructed from above. Myra did as she was told and slowly descended. She became immediately thankful that she was wearing shoes due to the icy temperature of the steel bars blistering her hands. When she was halfway down, she heard the sound of metal-on-concrete again, followed by what she assumed was Bane descending after her. When she reached the bottom, she stepped away carefully, waiting for Bane. It took all of her willpower not to tear the blindfold off of her face so that she could inspect her surroundings. She felt his hands resume their position at her shoulders as he gently turned and guided her down what she could only assume was an underground tunnel of sorts. Their footsteps resonated around them as they walked, paired with the faint smell of dampness and mildew, and the mild sound of dripping water. Again, she tried in vain to map out some sort of directional path they had made, but after making the 5th abrupt 90 degree turn around a corner, she knew she was utterly lost. She had surmised by now that the intent of the blindfold was to prevent the relaying of information to the police when she was eventually released. Oh, so you are acknowledging ‘WHEN’ you are going to be released, and not “IF”? That’s a new development… Myra felt Bane suddenly grip her shoulder, signaling for her to stop. She then felt the blindfold suddenly being whisked and removed from her face. What she saw both confused and intrigued her. It was a large make-shift cafeteria or kitchen of sorts. A single man stood on the far side of the room, attending to the methodical chopping of vegetables. He appeared to be an older man with graying hair and a slightly stooped posture, wearing an apron to protect his clothing. The man briefly turned his head to acknowledge Bane with a polite nod before resuming his work, apparently unconcerned by the sight of Myra with her blackening eye and bloody wound at her neck. Myra stared. “Take a seat here…” Bane instructed, pulling out a chair from one of the many tables set up against the wall. Myra did as instructed, sitting down while watching Bane as he retreated further into the kitchen. He stopped at a large freezer box, opening it to rummage around in its contents. She continued to watch him from the chair, her hands fidgeting idly. She then saw Bane come back clutching a large piece of processed meat. He knelt in front of her, and then without warning, he pressed it firmly against her wounded eye, causing her to flinch and recoil away from him. Bane used his other hand to hold the back of her head to lock it in position as he kept a steady hold with the hand holding the icy meat slab. Observing her settle down, he then used the hand that held her head to reach down and grab ahold of one of hers. He then guided it up to the piece of meat that was covering her eye."Keep that there for an hour. It will still be black but at least it won't swell further," Bane said as he leaned back and appraised her, removing his hands. Myra looked up at him with one eye, feeling unusual and out of place, but grateful for the care he provided her."Don't you have ice? Wouldn't that be better? Is this sterile? Am I going to get… bacteria on my face?" Myra asked hesitantly, knowing some of her concerns were impossible if not down-right stupid.Bane looked her over once more, seemingly ignoring her concerns while he eyed the wound at her neck. He then turned around and made his way to a cabinet that sat at the opposite wall. He grabbed a box before also grabbing a cloth, rinsing it with water from a large basin sink set up next to the cabinet. He then made his way back to Myra. Myra watched as he used the wetted cloth to clean the wound at her neck. Myra did her best to sit still, though she did flinch involuntarily at the sudden stinging she felt from the invasive dabbing and wiping he performed to clean out the wound. He tossed the cloth to the side after cleaning up any residual blood. He then opened the box that he held in his hand. He removed a few items from its contents before setting it down on a nearby table. He then spread a chemical over the wound, which Myra could only hope was antiseptic, before peeling back a package of water-resistant sutures. “It doesn’t appear to need stitches…” Bane mumbled out for context while he carefully placed several of the semi-transparent sutures over the wound. Myra remained silent. Satisfied with his handiwork, he covered the wound with a large gauze and bandage. Myra continued to sit still and confused through the whole ordeal but did angle her head to look down at her shirt where blood stained the top portion of the neckline and around the shoulder sleeve. She also noticed distinguishable grubby darkened fingerprints at the hem of her shirt, undoubtedly where Jay had lifted it up to grope her. Did he ever wash his hands? Grimacing, she saw him straighten up to his full height, analyzing her one last time for additional injuries. Satisfied that she had no more that needed treatment as well as the care given to her, he gave a curt nod. "I'll come back in an hour to fetch you,” he told her before turning to the man in the far corner of the kitchen.“Keep an eye on her, please, Arif," Bane said before turning to leave. Myra’s hand immediately shot out, locking hold of his wrist. While shooting to her feet, she slid the hand down his wrist to grab hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. She was too nervous and petrified to verbalize her concerns regarding being left alone with a man she’d never seen before considering the circumstances she was just involved in. She glared at him with her singular uncovered eye, her other hand still dutifully holding the cold meat on her bruised one. Bane, for his part, looked down and observed Myra, who looked like she might wet herself. Myra watched as Bane’s focus moved from her expression, which she didn’t doubt was one of elevated alarm, down to the hand on his. He squeezed hers gently before slowly untangling himself from her grip. He then brought a hand up to sweep back the bangs that had partially covered her eye before holding her face between both of his large hands. He held her head still, waiting for her focus to settle and relax on him. “Arif can be trusted to oversee your care while I’m gone. He won’t bother you. He’ll also ensure no one else does either. He may even fix you up with a nice hot meal if you ask him politely,” he informed her, giving her a pointed look. Myra’s lips worked furiously together, mustering up some kind of response. However, he didn’t give her a chance to verbalize a protest. He released her head abruptly, giving Arif one final look before stalking off out of the kitchen. Myra's one exposed eye shot over quickly to the man that Bane referred to as “Arif”, who she could observe expertly chop vegetables. He seemed indifferent to the interaction that just took place between Myra and Bane. Seeing that Arif was otherwise preoccupied, her attention wandered to a large kitchen table that was centered near the cooking equipment. On it were knives, meat tenderizers, forks, and assorted cutlery she didn’t doubt could do significant damage if used to stab with enough force. She swallowed, wondering what state of mind Bane would be in to let one of his hostages have access to such tools. Her hand began to fidget, wondering if anyone would notice a missing knife…“Would you mind handing me that large knife, dear?” Myra heard the old man ask abruptly. Myra startled, her expression shifting away from the cutlery guiltily. Blinking quickly, she stepped forward tentatively to retrieve the knife that he had requested. She then slowly made her way over to him, her mind buzzing. Should I try to threaten him, and make a run for it? Stab him? Would he kill me? He doesn’t look like he could kill me…he looks a bit on the old and frail side…what are you THINKING! You can’t hurt an old man! Even if he does work for Bane…Bane. He said he wasn’t going to give you a 3rd chance…I’m sure trying to stab this poor old man would constitute a chance… Myra didn’t have time to resolve her internal conversation before she felt herself obediently handing over the large knife to Arif. Coward! Myra’s lips twisted furiously together as she willed her inner monologue to hush. She then watched as Arif used the large knife to cut into some unruly vegetables on the table. Unsure of what she should be doing or where she should be standing, she turned around to make her way back to the chair that Bane escorted her to. She took a seat, switching the hands that held the meat on her eye. Her gaze then began to wander around the room and the area. She observed a large vat of food with vegetables and sheets of treats that looked like it could feed hundreds of people. She felt like she was in an elementary school cafeteria. That looks like the type of food that they give me every day…how many people are down here? She continued to sit in her seat watching Arif as he added to the various piles of food, obviously preparing a meal for what Myra could only assume was a literal army. No one came in and out of the kitchen during this time. Her mind eventually wandered back to the events that had taken place in the utility closet, playing out the events in her mind and analyzing every detail of the situation. If Bane hadn’t come when he did…wait. How did Bane and Barsad even know to come down there? OH RIGHT! Barsad was bringing me some extra food and water! Maybe he saw or overheard something and allerted Bane? Ugh, I owe Barsad a huge thank you… Myra became paralyzed with fear and horror at the prospect of what would have happened had those three men not been stopped. “Would you like me to prepare you anything special? I’ve got some time now that dinner is finished…” Arif eased out, wiping the large knife he had been using on the hem of his apron as he slowly shuffled towards her.Myra startled, trying to calm her nerves after the train of thought she had just experienced. She then swallowed. Oh, right. Bane said I could ask him to make a meal for me. Her stomach then growled before she could verbally answer. Arif chucked quietly, putting both of his hands behind his back in a contemplative manner. “You look like you could do with a few warm meals, hm?” Arif asked again gently.Myra remained silent for several moments as she looked up at him from her seated position, her mind racing for a response. “Yes,” she blurted out dumbly, feeling like the option may be revoked if she didn’t respond to him in a timely manner. Arif inspected her, blinking several times as if he was unsure if he heard her correctly. He then nodded while making a few sounds of appreciation while shuffling back towards his workstation. Myra sat silently and watched as Arif prepared several ingredients and turned on the stove that was stationed in the corner. Approximately fifteen minutes later, he shuffled towards her with a plated steaming meal in his hand along with a large cup of water, a napkin, and utensils. He put them down on the table in front of Myra. “Thank…you…” Myra eased out cautiously. She inspected the plate, unsure of what it was she was looking at. She could only assume it was some type of middle eastern dish based on the use of spices and texture. She picked at it with a fork.As she was picking at the food, Arif examined her. He seemed to take an interest in the apparent wounds that she had sustained. "Run-in with some damned rascals, eh?" he said curiously with a hint of empathy, resting his hands on his hips as he did so. Myra turned quickly to look at him, her brow furrowed in concern. "How do you know Bane wasn't one of the 'rascals'?" Myra retorted, feeling slightly offended that her assaulters were being chalked up as merely being 'rascals'. Arif suddenly leaned back his head to let out a very loud guffaw into the ceiling, clearly finding humor in her sassy retort. His response had evidently surprised and startled her, nearly causing her to drop her fork. When he settled down, he found a very unamused Myra still staring at him. "My dear...if that was Bane...well, let's just say you wouldn't be sitting here right now enjoying this meal," he clarified, using a finger to point at the food that Myra was still picking at. The perplexed, frightened look Myra gave propelled him to provide further clarification. "Besides, I saw the way he brought you in here with the same care he would with the Mother of God herself...," he said with a very suggestive wink as he turned to attend to his duties back on the other side of the kitchen, leaving Myra blushing furiously. She immediately looked down to inspect her food to avoid further eye contact, deciding not to be rude any longer and take a bite. Her hunger was also a driving factor with taking a chomp of the unfamiliar food. What did I do to deserve this softer, protective side of him? Myra decided to temporarily cease her internal obsessing in favor of taking a bite of the food.She immediately groaned.
My god…it’s so good to eat hot food again! This is so GOOD. By the time it gets to me, it’s cold! I wonder if this is how all of the food is supposed to taste?
Myra shoveled several large mouthfuls of food into her mouth when she suddenly felt a familial hand sweep gently across her back, causing her to jump in her seat. She whipped around to face the owner of the hand, recoiling slightly, unused to experiencing such a casual gesture, particularly given her current situation. Even way before that, if you are being honest with yourself… Myra’s body eased up when she saw it was Bane, who kept his hand at her back, pointedly ignoring her startled behavior. He followed up by providing a reassuring rub between her shoulder blades while she composed herself. “What do we have here?” he asked curiously, his eyes focused on the meal in front of her. Myra quickly worked on chewing and swallowing the mouthful of food she had in her mouth. She had been trying to savor the taste of something new after weeks of monotony. She also didn’t know why, but she couldn’t help but fixate on the comment Arif made moments prior about the apparently special manner in which Bane was handling her. The thought, of course, left her furiously blushing once more. “Myra?” he asked again gently, clearly trying to refocus her attention.Myra swallowed again, her face blooming a deeper shade of red from his casual use of her name as well as being caught mentally drifting. Has he ever used my name outside the context of making a hostage video…? “Only…the best meal of my LIFE,” Myra practically shouted with enthusiasm, making sure that Arif could hear her across the kitchen, her mind finally catching up with her.This answer seemed to satisfy Bane, who gave her one final gentle rub on her back before reaching out to grab the piece of meat that she continued to cling to her eye socket. He then sauntered away several feet where he threw it into a trash receptacle. As he did so, his eyes roamed the knives, forks, and various tools used to serve food strewn across the table. Her eyes were following him as he did this to see where his attention was focused, and when he turned back to her, she returned his gaze. He apparently didn’t suspect her of hiding any instruments, for he used his hand to motion for her to hurry and finish her food. She did so reluctantly but took the final few bites from the meal and chugged the glass of water before wiping her face with the napkin. She picked up her plate and glass and brought it over to Arif, who indicated a large sink basin that had a pile of other dirty dishes waiting to be scrubbed. She set it on top of the pile and then turned to him.“Thank you for the delicious food, Arif. It was wonderful. Truly,” she said before quickly hurrying off towards Bane. Arif provided a ‘hmph’, dismissing her with a wave of the hand, clearly focused on a new task at hand.Bane led her further into the underground tunnel system. Myra noted the smell of dampness wafting around as well as the periodic sound of running water indicating they were walking over and under running water and large pipes. He eventually led her to a makeshift canopy that protected an array of electrical equipment from the water dripping from the ceiling due to the condensation and leaks caused by the water outflow system nearby. A military cot with a disheveled green wool blanket and pillow abutted the electrical equipment. The electrical equipment included a matrix of monitors and screens. Whoever slept here obviously enjoyed being close to the tactical information and displays. Myra’s eyes wandered to a small fire pit not far from the cot with a tea kettle and an old tin cup next to it. She watched as Bane approached the small cot, grabbing hold of it before dragging it behind him. He made his way towards a door that stood next to the electrical equipment and canopy. The sound of the metal cot legs screeched against the hard concrete, filling the area with the unpleasant sound. "You will stay here until the closet has been thoroughly cleaned," Bane said as he led her into a door, cot still in tow. Bane led her inside and gave her a few moments to take in her surroundings. He dragged the cot to the far corner wall, pushing it up against the wall before rearranging the pillow and blanket so that they weren’t touching the ground. Who slept in that cot? Are they going to come looking for it? Myra noted that the room was roughly twelve times the size of the utility closet confines. The room had some obvious added features which included an old pedestal sink against one wall with a mirror hinged over a medicine cabinet as well as a small partition next to the sink that contained the toilet and a shower. It appeared that the shower was simply a pipe sticking out from the side of the wall, old subway tile lining the walls and the floor that led to the shower drain on the floor next to the toilet. There was also a mountain of books in one corner, the notion of a bookshelf seemingly abandoned. There was a pile of clothes neatly folded next to the bookshelf. She also spied a pile of clothes that were obviously soiled and discarded clothes on the floor next to the folded pile. "Is there another hostage here?" Myra asked the first question that popped into her mind.Bane eyed her briefly before responding."I make use of this room for storage and the amenities. I will continue to sleep directly outside and ensure no one bothers you, though it's rare for anyone to enter without my permission,” he explained as if she were an overnight guest who had a legitimate voice in the matter.She stared back at him humorlessly before nodding. She then turned back to inspect the room once more. Wow. They don't have it much better than I do in my utility closet I guess. This thought brought a weird, distorted sense of comfort to Myra.“There is a fresh towel and items for a shower over there,” Bane said, motioning towards the partition that blocked her view of the contents he was speaking about. Myra turned to investigate where he was pointing before turning her attention back to him hesitantly. “...thank…you,” she said shyly, her tone sincere, finding it strange and odd to thank her kidnapper. Bane’s turned to focus on hers, analyzing her before his expression softened at her genuine gratitude. He then gave her a final, curt nod. “Of course,” he said before turning around to exit. She heard the door lock from the outside. Myra relished the opportunity to use the shower immediately, knowing she had grime, blood, and tears coated not just over her skin, but also her clothes. She didn’t even care that the shower was cold. It felt so good to stand in one place and let water drain over her face and body. She used the shampoo that Bane had indicated upon his exit, as well as the towel. She eyed her dirty clothes upon exiting, feeling reluctant to switch back into them considering the blood that had soiled the neckline and arm sleeve. She decided to investigate to see if she could find a suitable set of clean clothes in the folded pile she had spotted earlier. She grabbed the first garment on the stack of carefully folded laundry and examined it, bringing it up to her nose to smell it and appraise the size of the garment. It was a long-sleeve brown tight-knit sweater that looked like it had a life of its own, with minor imperfections and frayed edges along the hem and sleeves. Her finger poked through a hole that she could only imagine was caused by a bullet. Yep. Definitely Bane’s. At least it's clean. The long-sleeve shirt was significantly larger than what she needed or expected but considering her lack of options in the realm of clean underwear, she figured she would just treat it like a nightshirt until she could request a more permanent solution the next time she saw Bane. She threw it on, looking down to make sure the neckline wasn’t too scandalously low and the hem at the bottom provided adequate coverage of her nether regions. Eh. It's fine. She rolled up the oversized, stretched-out sleeves and carefully rearranged the pillow and blanket on the cot. She wasted no time in making use of them, her body and limbs rejoicing at the feeling of being cradled by the hardened canvas, blanket, and pillow. She didn't even mind that the bedding she used had the faint smell of Bane, which included campfire, gunpowder, tea, and almonds as well as another musky male smell she couldn't quite place. This must have been his cot. Her mental and physical exhaustion must have been at its peak, because the next thing she remembered was suddenly being jerked awake from the sound of the large metal door screeching open. She turned her head to the door to see who the intruder was. It was Bane.He held a large brown bag in his arm. He eyed her as he entered, closing the door behind him as he did so. “I’ve brought you a fresh wardrobe. The clothes in your room unfortunately needed to be disposed of,” he said bluntly. Myra bounded from the cot, approaching him to grab the bag to inspect the contents. After a quick inspection, she put the bag down onto the cot, turning back to face him. She saw him staring at her in what she could only categorize as some level of awkwardness based on his stance. She continued to watch him as his eyes flickered from her face down to the garment she was wearing, pointedly analyzing it. She saw the unmistakable movement of his Adam’s apple as he undoubtedly swallowed behind his mask in what she could only assume was due to some degree of discomfort or embarrassment at the sight of her wearing his clothing. Or maybe he’s feeling something else? Myra felt herself inexplicably giddy with euphoria as the irrational, lizard-part of her brain grasped at the notion that he was possibly pleased or even aroused at the sight of her.She then immediately looked down to inspect her garment, adjusting the hem and neckline to ensure that she was providing adequate coverage. Seeing that everything was covered that should be, she awkwardly looked back up at him. My god, a little more discretion next time MYRA. Thankfully, it was Bane who eventually broke his silence. “You’ve taken liberties, I see,” Bane finally mused, clearly indicating the use of the shirt she was wearing. Myra couldn’t tell if he sounded annoyed, bothered, or impressed. Perhaps even all three. Myra’s face turned red from embarrassment, unsure of how she should respond. Oh god. Is this his favorite shirt or something? Is he trying to politely indicate he wants it back? “It was…clean…I’ll take it off as soon as you leave, I promise. I’m…I’m sorry,” Myra fumbled out, honestly at a loss for what to say in this situation. Bane’s reaction was to raise his eyebrows in surprise before approaching closer, his head bent forward as his eyes roamed over the shirt appreciatively. Myra noticed his movements appeared to be rigid and strained. She willed her legs to stay put, holding her ground as he stopped in front of her. He brought a hand up to tease the hem of the shirt that stretched to her mid-thigh as if he wanted to feel the tactile nature of it, his knuckle grazing her skin for just a moment as he did so. Myra had to fight every fiber of her being to stop from gasping out loud, her mind a hurricane of emotions and mixed feelings. His fingers are getting…dangerously close….why do they have to feel so good? How can he be so gentle? Why has he been so kind to me? Why does it feel so natural and good to have him so nearby? He smells so…. She suddenly stepped back, re-establishing a comfortable boundary. The distinct smell of carnage and blood still lingered on him, which only instilled mental images of her assault and near-rape at the hands of the three men. It ignited a fight or flight response in her nervous system. Despite the horrible events still clearly fresh and forefront in her mind, his presence inexplicably brought her guard down. She couldn’t help but focus on him when he was around her. It was intoxicating. Bane’s fingers lost the loose grasp he had on the fabric as she stepped back, his fingers idling mid-air for several seconds before he returned his hand to his side. His gaze lingered for several moments before they roamed back up to her face, his expression considerably more contemplative and sterner than it had been moments prior.“It suits you. Keep it,” he finally mused huskily before bending down to pick up the other folded clean clothes on the floor. Myra let out a breath that she didn’t even realize she had been holding. A slow wave of red crept over her face as she watched him gather a few more items around the room that he must use on a regular basis. Myra's mind eventually snapped back to the incident involving Bane tearing into three grown men in a relatively small utility room. Her mind began to visualize what he insinuated by indicating her clothes needed to be thrown out and only assumed he meant that some of the human blood and organic matter must have splattered so excessively that they found their way on the clothes she had in her room. She immediately felt the urge to vomit. Myra brought a hand up to wipe her eyes in an attempt to remove the mental image. Bane must have interpreted her gesture as an indication of annoyance at him overstaying his welcome or crossing a boundary, for he quickly re-directed the conversation. "I've decided you would benefit from proper self-defense instruction," Bane announced.The look of pure terror on Myra’s face must have motivated Bane to provide context. "You had indicated a desire to learn it as a new skill, hmm? You need not worry, as I’ll be the one providing the instruction,” he clarified, his eyes doing one last sweep of the room as he did so for any additional objects he might need. Myra’s face turned to skepticism. I didn’t think he was paying attention when I told him I wanted to learn Karate or Judo…I most definitely didn’t think he would take it upon himself to teach me. “Yes, I did say that…I remember. However, I was hoping to be trained by a professional…” Myra confessed, a look of mild discomfort now coating her features. Bane must have found her statement to be wildly amusing, for he bent his head back to give an extremely rare, very comedic “guffaw” towards the ceiling. Myra furrowed her brows at his display. When Bane finally relaxed and regained his composure, he wiped a jovial tear from his eye as he huffed out a sigh. By this point, Myra obviously was even less enthused at the prospect of being trained. “You need not worry on that front. I’m not expecting you to master the art by any means, but it would benefit you to have someone instruct you on a series of purely defensive moves and techniques that could aid you in the extremely unlikely event of a future assault against you" Bane said light-heartedly, still obviously amused by her statement from earlier. Myra continued to give Bane an uncomfortable, apprehensive look. "You may even enjoy the lessons and the exercise. I know you must not enjoy the physical confines of the room all day and all night," Bane said in a tone that had indicated her comfort was at least on some spectrum in his mind. It was also clear he was still very much set on selling her this idea, and he very likely wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Myra sighed. "When would we start?" Myra finally asked."Right now. Get dressed. There are clothes in the bag. I'll be outside," Bane replied before turning around and closing the door.“Does this mean we aren’t going to play any board games today?” Myra asked sadly to his retreating back, to which she received no response. Myra went to the clothes that Bane had brought and shuffled through them. She changed into a pair of fitted work-out pants, a sports bra, a t-shirt, socks, and training sneakers. She found a piece of parachute cord on the ground and used it to tie up her hair. When she was fully dressed, she exited the room hesitantly.Bane was standing outside with his arms crossed, his eyes directed towards the monitors mounted on the nearby wall. When he heard her exit the room, he turned around to appraise her apparel change. He gave a nod before turning away and making his way towards a hall. She assumed he meant for her to follow him, so she did so in a brisk walk so as not to fall behind. She also noted after making it a few feet outside the door that he had since put a new cot under the electrical matrix of monitors. Myra followed him down the hall, where they made their way a short distance away to a large open area that had EVA foam mats littered all over the floor. Myra assumed this was to make the floor more comfortable than the cement in case someone fell on it. The room appeared to be empty despite the abundance of training equipment and weights. Myra rubbed her hands together as if she were cold, though in actuality she was just nervous. When they made it to the center of the large room, Bane turned towards her abruptly."Rule one," he said, obviously transitioned into instructor mode. "Use your aggression and force. Let it be known you're powerful, even if you yourself don't think so. The worst mistake is not believing or trying. Be loud. Be intimidating. Create attention," Bane listed these off as if reading from a grocery list.Myra absorbed it all, keeping her eyes focused on him. Bane stepped closer to her and grabbed her hand roughly with his and raised it up so that her hand was directly in her face."Use your fingernails if you need to. You may injure yourself, and that’s alright. Be prepared for that pain. A better alternative is using a tool, like a pen, to stab into your attacker. I'd recommend the neck," Bane said as if he were providing baking tips for the perfect pie. He brought a hand up and pressed his finger into the side of Myra’s neck in what Myra assumed was the perfect spot for optimal effect, right next to the bandaged wound that still had gauze and tape covering it. Myra swallowed before swatting his hand away. “I thought you said you were going to teach me defensive techniques…this all sounds pretty offensive to me…” she quipped. Bane returned his hand to his side, ignoring her quip. "The most ideal location you could ever kick to disable your attacker is the groin. If you are able to do it with enough force, you could even paralyze them," Bane said, before moving around behind her and letting his hands fall down to her hips to position her body over her legs into a proper kick stance. Myra, of course, couldn’t help but be fixated on the word ‘groin’, knowing his groin was right behind her backside while he guided her positioning. Myra swallowed, trying to focus and shift her feet and hips in a way that wasn’t too conspicuous, knowing she undoubtedly looked like a newborn fawn managing unfamiliar limbs in a new scenario. She also made every effort to not think about his hands planted on either side of her hips, maintaining a gentle but firm grip as he continued to guide her in place. This only made her think about them more, of course. "Let's proceed with working on your kicks…" Bane said suddenly over her shoulder.Myra waited for additional instruction, unsure if she should just start kicking wildly. He thankfully provided further clarification before she made a fool of herself. He did so by raising his hand up and pointed over her shoulder towards a large structural column several meters away from where they stood. “Aim your kick towards that pillar there. Don’t forget you can use your other leg to propel your strength forward…” he said before stepping back, giving her the lead to figure it out. Myra tried kicking several times, to which Bane came up and adjusted her form before taking a step back for her to try again until she got it right. “Good. I want you to kick once every 5 seconds until I say so. Go, ” he ordered, taking even more steps away from her before crossing his arms to spectate. Myra got as far as doing approximately 35 kicks before she had to pause. She let out a giant huff, resting her hands on her hips as she turned to locate Bane’s whereabouts. He appeared to be involved in a conversation with someone near the entrance to the make-shift training area. Myra let out a sigh of relief, relishing in the small break. “I did not give you permission to stop. Other foot. Now. Go,” Bane shouted at her before returning to his conversation. Myra twisted her body to give him a stern, annoyed look before repositioning herself in the correct stance. She then proceeded to kick using her other foot. She only paused once when she felt Bane come up behind her abruptly to correct her form briefly before retreating. She tried ignoring the casual comfort he seemed to operate with when touching and moving her limbs around. She managed to get up to 30 kicks before she felt like her heart was going to explode. Bane shouted at her before she had the proper chance to pause and rest.“Switch,” he shouted. This routine of switching back-and-forth between legs went on until Myra was only able to do a handful of kicks before she had to physically stop and heave. Eventually, she just let her body clamber to the floor like jelly, appreciating the softness of the EVA foam on the ground. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding, her ears ringing. She eventually sensed a shadow looming over her. “All done, are we?” he asked her, staring down at her dramatic display. Myra was too tired to reciprocate an answer, instead just providing a grunt through her nose. “I’m afraid not. Your arms need the same attention as your legs. Proceed with some simple push-ups,” he instructed, using his finger to point at the ground next to her. Myra grumbled, cursing softly under her breath before she rolled over to proceed with push-ups. Her push-up must have been all wrong, because Bane intervened immediately.“No. Incorrect form. Like this,” he said before getting down on the mat besides her to demonstrate the perfect push-up. Myra stared at him skeptically, her brows furrowed as she eyed his muscles, which undoubtedly made it easier for him to perform the task. Bane, of course, must have known the state of muscular atrophy that she was experiencing from being stuck in a closet for weeks - months - at this point, so he went easy on her. “You may use your knees to pivot…until you have enough strength to do it without that handicap,” he lamented, showing her a quick demonstration of how to do it with the aforementioned handicap. Myra proceeded to attempt the new form of push-up and was again immediately corrected. “Keep your back straight. Don’t slouch,” he ordered, using his hand to tap the small of her back for emphasis. More grumbling from Myra. “Good,” he finally said. “Do 20 of those, rest for a minute, then do 20 more. Repeat this process until I say otherwise,” Bane said before he sauntered away back to the entrance of the training area. Myra eyed him as he retreated, sweat now freely pouring down her face. She did as she was told, however. She was extremely slow and had to pause once or twice in the middle of the sets because she felt like her arms were about to explode. Myra wasn’t quite sure how many repetitions she managed to do, but she was startled to see Bane standing over her suddenly, his arms folded. “Lay on your stomach, please,” Bane asked as he moved closer. Myra heaved, taking a moment to sit back and let out a breath as she processed his request. Without another word, she inched forward onto the mat like an inchworm and lay prone on the EVA foam, her arms loosely held at her side. She turned her head on its side to be more comfortable, even closing her eyes briefly from pure physical exhaustion. Myra was more alarmed that she wasn’t alarmed when she suddenly felt Bane’s hands grab hold of one of her arms, pressing and squeezing it tightly as if he were looking for something.“Relax your arm,” he ordered. Myra relaxed as well as she could, letting her arm go limp in his grip.She then felt him manipulate it before applying a generous amount of pressure to angle it in a specific manner. She could very clearly feel specific tendons and muscles being stretched out as he did this. “It’s best to stretch the muscles while they are still warm and flexible. Recovery is accelerated this way. You should feel less stiff and sore tomorrow,” he explained as he continued to apply specific pressure along her arm. Myra just grunted a response, relishing in the tactile feel of a large, warm hand holding her arm taught to be stretched out like taffy. He continued to rotate and manipulate her arm at several angles. Myra was certain that her arm was on the verge of cracking, but she never heard it. Regardless, the feel of her arm being stretched out was undeniably pleasant. He placed her arm delicately on the mat beside her before he moved around her to give the same treatment to her other arm. “You ever think about quitting the whole villain schtick and being a professional coach? You are very good at this,” Myra quipped as he grabbed hold of her leg and proceeded to manipulate and contort it with the same level of firm pressure with his palm. Bane ignored her comment and instead seemed to be purely focused on stretching her muscles out. He started with her calf, even providing brief massaging and kneading with his large palm to the large group of muscles on her fibula bone. “...this feels… so good…” Myra practically moaned out, closing her eyes as he switched to the other leg. She felt him pause briefly in his actions before hearing him stand up.“I’ll demonstrate how to stretch your thigh and glutes,” he said before bending down to effortlessly lift her up from the floor. He then made his way to a nearby wall. Myra’s eyes shot open as she heard his statement before feeling herself suddenly jerked up off of the floor. She eyed him as he retreated to the far corner of the room. Oh, right. That would probably be inappropriate of him to touch me there, wouldn’t it? She sluggishly made her way over to him. He seemed to be actively demonstrating how to stretch the rest of her muscles using the wall as support. She mirrored his actions, feeling the tightness in her muscles stretch and loosen as she did so. “Good. That will be enough for today. I’ll take you back where you can get cleaned and changed. I’ll have food brought to you later,” he said, moving away from the wall and making his way towards the exit. Myra followed him without a word, her face still beat-red from exertion. She felt lightheaded and drowsy for a variety of reasons and had limited capacity to argue back. She did note that she felt a little extra spring in her step and marveled at the ease in which her muscles seemed to move which was a stark contrast to the tight constricting behavior she felt during and immediately after her workout.They made it back to the room with the cot before long. Bane stayed outside of the room as Myra shuffled inside. She turned to him just in time to see him close the door without so much as a word. .
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Myra awoke the following morning to the screech of the metal door opening and closing. She startled, the cot underneath her swaying, not quite sturdy enough to not react to her sudden jerking motion. She swung her head up from the pillow, straining her eyes to focus on the intruder.It was Bane.Myra let out a sigh, rubbing the dark circles and exhaustion out of her eyes, taking care not to rub too aggressively around the still-lingering bruise she received from the punch several days prior. Despite the significant improvement in her sleeping arrangement in terms of exchanging a sleeping bag for a cot, Myra was plagued with night terrors and fits. This was mainly due to the feeling of being in a foreign, dark, damp place paired with the knowledge that she was surrounded by dangerous individuals who on occasion wished her harm. Granted, she knew she had trouble sleeping prior to her capture, but her situation just exasperated her condition. The room that she currently slept in was also significantly colder than the closet in the parking garage. This forced her to improvise by draping random clothing over her, on top of the wool blanket, to stay warm. Bane appeared to ignore her as he made his way over to the sink by the toilet. He turned the sink on, washing his hands under the stream of water. As he did so, he lifted his head up to look into the mirror. Myra watched as she saw his eyes shift to lock onto hers in the reflection. She immediately turned red and squirmed under the covers.“I’m escorting you to breakfast,” he said as he turned the faucet off, shaking his hands with a quick flick to relieve them of the extra moisture. Myra eyed him for a brief moment before allowing her body to stretch under the covers. She immediately winced and groaned, rolling onto her side to face the wall away from Bane. “ OWWWWW-” Myra groaned, her muscles feeling sore and stiff as if they decided to form a union and revolt against her for the self-defense training she partook in the previous day. She gritted her teeth while she felt a cramp erupt in her calf, letting out another squeal of displeasure. She rolled onto her stomach to try and stifle the sounds flying out of her mouth into her pillow. She heard footsteps behind her before sensing a large shadow sweep over her. She then felt the rough wool of her covers being agitated briefly before feeling her arm being swept up into a firm hold between two of Bane’s large hands. He knelt down beside her before he started squeezing her arm from wrist to bicep, similar to how one might squeeze a large tube of toothpaste for the last bit of precious paste inside. “Sore?” he asked her in a tone that was a mix of teasing, patronizing, and concern.It was a tad bit too cheerful to Myra’s liking as he continued to clamp down on her arm, feeling out her muscles and massaging out the discomfort. She adjusted her head to give him a side-eye, refusing to acknowledge how good his hands felt kneading out the pain derived from her sore muscles. Myra started squirming under the covers again, feeling suddenly self-conscious at the intrusion and attention she was receiving. She used her free hand to reach behind her to bring the covers further up her body. She was wearing his oversized shirt and knew that it left little to the imagination. Thankfully, she was prone on her stomach, but still. Bane seemed to ignore her fidgeting, instead focusing on leaning over her to grab her other arm, practically yanking her fully around to face him and settle her on her back as he continued with his ministrations over her incredibly sore muscles and tissue. She couldn’t help but feel like a Thanksgiving day turkey being prepped and stuffed for eating. After a few more moments, he dropped her arm unceremoniously onto her chest before standing up straight to return his attention back to her face. Myra was practically radiant and beaming from the unexpected care she received. “Shall I work on your legs too, or would you prefer I wait outside while you prepare yourself for breakfast?” Bane asked in a cordial tone, though tease was still heavily laced in his delivery. Myra peered at him pensively, working her lips together while she pondered his words. Then, a corner of her lip twitched upward as she stared at him, clearly on the verge of matching his tease. She suddenly lifted a leg up towards him, practically shoving a foot into his face while she wiggled her toes in a silent request. The smirk on her lips didn’t wane. Bane stared back at her, one of his eyebrows lifting up nominally as a clear indicator that he was caught off-guard. Then, to Myra’s surprise, he moved closer to her while snatching her foot out of the air while simultaneously shoving her body further inward on the cot to accommodate him so he could sit down and perform the task at hand. Myra’s smirk was replaced with an ‘o’ of shock as she felt him handle her foot in his hand while he sat on the cot next to her legs, the cot clearly straining under his bulk but it held steady. She watched him skeptically while he maintained an aggressive level of eye contact with her while he made himself comfortable, lowering her foot into his lap before using both of his hands to press both of the pads of his thumbs into the middle arch of her foot. Then, very slowly, he rotated his thumbs, raising a single eyebrow at Myra. Myra’s eyes practically bulged out of her head as she watched him slowly make his way up to one of her calves. She observed his attention eventually shifting to her leg, his eyes roaming over it as he shifted his hold on her, ensuring he was providing adequate care to all of her muscle groups. He stopped just below her thigh before moving to her other leg. “...that feels….,” Myra started to squeak out. Phenomenal. Mind-blowing. Spectacular. Overwhelming. “Good,” Myra finally said, appreciatively, though somewhat underwhelmingly. Bane gave a gruff ‘humph’ through his mask in response. It wasn’t long before Bane was done. Myra watched him as he moved to grab hold of her other foot, however, before she had time to process what he was doing he slowly feathered the tips of his fingers down the expanse of the bottom of her foot. She immediately started writhing uncontrollably on the cot, making an attempt to reclaim her foot. “STOP! I’M TICKLISH!” she shouted, using his other foot to try and kick and break free of his surprisingly strong hold on her ankle. Bane was remarkably unphased by her onslaught. “It appears you’ve regained your range of motion,” Bane mused, releasing her foot abruptly before standing up as Myra primed her leg to kick towards his chest. Not that any of her kicking was working, however; she might as well have been a stuffed animal. Myra’s face had turned a bright shade of red from the brief struggle, scowling at his need to tease and annoy. “You can go wait outside now, thanks ,” she said dismissively as her eyes narrowed at him. Bane gave her a gentle, amused nod before turning to exit.“Don’t dawdle,” he warned as he shut the door behind him without another word. Myra stared for several seconds before leaping from the cot, rushing to put on a pair of clothes from the various bags that were brought to her the day prior. She impulsively went to the sink to look at the mirror, wishing she had a brush to tame down her hair a bit. She sprayed some water on her face to try and saturate the darkness under her eyes. She also decided to tie it back with the stray parachute chord she had found on the ground the day prior, grimacing at the irregular bumps in the pulled-back hair. Giving one final look-over with a disappointed sigh, she exited the room. Bane was standing just outside the door with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze focused towards one of the water outflow pipes that deposited water into the main sewer line. Upon hearing Myra exit, however, he turned his attention to her. His eyes swept over her briefly before settling on her face. He then turned to begin walking towards the direction of the kitchen area at a moderate pace. Myra immediately shuffled after him. Myra maintained a distance behind him, watching his back as he walked. He was wearing a green military-type vest today that covered most of his torso but exposed his arms and upper chest. He also was wearing the typical cargo pants that she saw him wear many times that seemed to hold so many different pockets for storage of God-knows-what. Despite the large combat boots he was wearing, his control over the sound he made while walking was astounding. She felt like she was making considerably more noise than he was in her sneakers. It didn’t take long for them to make it to the kitchen. Bane stood off to the side to chat with a few of his men and Arif while Myra proceeded to stack up some food onto a clean plate before grabbing a glass and pouring some juice into it. She then sat down by herself at one of the many tables in the large space, immediately digging into her food. She ignored the lingering stares and glances her way from the few individuals that made their way into the room to receive breakfast also. She was thankful no one decided to sit with her at her table, instead choosing to give her a wide berth as she picked at her food. Myra was almost done with her food save for the mysterious variant of seed or legume she found lumped in her food that she managed to scrape off onto the side of her dish. She was about to stand up when she suddenly felt another presence. She rotated her head to see Bane standing at her shoulder, looking down at the contents on her plate. He then proceeded to ease himself into the chair next to hers, letting out a sigh of exertion as he did so. Myra settled back down into the seat, sensing he meant to use this time to talk with her. Instead of filling the silence, Bane reached over to her plate and snatched one of the mysterious legumes and brought it up to his mask, inserting it into a small cavity near the jaw that she assumed gave access to his mouth. She heard chewing while he reached out and grabbed another one off of her plate. She found the interaction oddly intimate and familial, considering the silence and the food thievery. Finding the silence suddenly uncomfortable, she decided to break it with a question that dominated her mind above all other questions. “Any word from the police?” Myra asked hopefully, though she already anticipated what the answer would be. Bane’s eyes darted to hers as he finished chewing on the last of the snack.“No,” was all he said, providing no further explanation.Myra let out a disappointed sigh, her eyes shifting to focus on her plate as her mind started to inexplicably ring with unease. Bane must have picked up on her sudden mental shift, for he used the silence as an opportunity to present an opportunity to her. “Arif has requested a helper of sorts to assist with dishes and other various tasks around the cafeteria. I volunteered your services,” he said, though his statement was delivered in a way that sounded less-than-finite, inviting her to challenge his decision if she found the proposal unappealing. Myra immediately raised a brow, turning her head to stare at him before turning to look towards the large kitchen. “You… Arif …want me to wash dishes? Me? When? Now?” Myra asked, dumbfounded and confused at the sudden and odd request. The corners of Bane’s eyes gently creased as he observed her, obviously finding her response mildly endearing.“Yes, you . I informed him that you would be able to assist him later this afternoon, should you be willing, but that I would need to steal you away for the evening. Your training isn’t quite done, you see, and I suspect your muscles could benefit from some attention” he told her. Myra chewed on the remnants of food in her mouth while she pondered the situation. She then looked over at Arif, who appeared to be stacking an extremely unruly number of dishes into the sink. While not a fan of doing dishes herself, she knew Arif had been nothing but kind to her, and he did seem moderately overwhelmed with the chores at hand. She also felt like being given a task would help alleviate the monotony of her day stuck inside a room. “...okay,” Myra said hesitantly, unsure of how she should feel or how it would play out. “Good,” Bane said, giving a nod before standing up and grabbing her now-clean plate and empty glass of juice. He also snatched the fork in her right hand before stalking towards the sink to deposit her plate, glass, and fork. Myra stood up from the table as Bane made his way back to her, using his head to motion towards the exit as an indicator that it was time to make their way back. Myra followed obligingly. As they were walking, Bane provided further instructions for her new ‘kitchen duties’. “You are to report to Arif at approximately 11 A.M. I will provide you with a timepiece so that you are able to monitor the time. Don’t be tardy,” he said sternly. Myra simply nodded.As Bane ushered Myra into the room, he handed her a wristwatch with worn leather straps. Myra took it from him, inspecting it briefly before noting the time. 9AM. Huh. Alright, so in two hours? “ Don’t be late ,” he repeated again before closing the door behind him as he left her to her thoughts. When it was 10:50 AM, Myra made her way outside. As she was walking towards the cafeteria, she heard loud voices and screaming coming from a passage that seemed to be past the direction of the kitchen. The screaming she heard compelled her to investigate. As she got closer to the source of the noise, which appeared to be coming from a large room, she peered in. Inside, she saw a group of men huddled around several fold-out tables. They appeared to be looking at a dozen or so engineering or construction maps. She immediately noticed Bane in the center of the room despite his back to her, being the only one not wearing a shirt, his back, torso, and upper arms fully exposed to highlight the complex muscle topography that made up his form, and the very obvious and audible mask he wore. She noted a long, irregular scar that snaked its way up the full length of his spine. He was also markedly taller and more imposing than those around him, clearly providing direction and orders with a simple nod, a point of the finger, or a brief verbal cue. The men around him were completely engrossed with him, leaning in as if they were aching to receive any type of guidance from him directly. All except one man appeared to gravitate perfectly around him, fixated on him, their eyes shining with admiration and loyalty to the very large, masked man standing in the center of the room. The outlier man was sprawled on the floor, unmoving. The half-dozen men around him had their focus on the maps despite the singularly dead-looking man that appeared to be sprawled on the floor, blood pooling from the side of his head. He must have been the one screaming. Myra’s mouth opened to let out a gasp, but she immediately shut it, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She knew she was observing something she shouldn’t. She quickly retreated. Something metal and hard pressed against her back. “What do we have here?” the man asked, shoving the tip of his assault rifle into her upper back again for emphasis. Myra immediately froze, bringing her hands up above her head, not knowing what else to do. A bolt of terror traveled up her spine at the prospect of a very deadly weapon being aimed at her backside by an unknown individual. “I heard screaming! I thought someone needed help! I was just on my way to help in the kitchen! I swear !” Myra stumbled out, scared out of her mind. “This isn’t the direction of the kitchen,” the man said calmly as he used the gun to prod her into the room towards Bane and the men. Myra was white as a ghost by the time she was fully herded into the room. Her eyes darted to the back of Bane’s. He seemed undisturbed, still looking down with unwavering focus on the maps in front of him. Her mind was immediately bombarded with memory of the tactile feel of his hands on her face as he comforted her after her assault the days before. That memory, paired with the observation of his exposed muscular torso and the fact that he absolutely dominated the room and those around him sent an unexpected chill that started between her thighs and ended just beneath her cranium. Her lips parted at the sudden wave of arousal. Holy cow, woman. Cool. It. DOWN. Do you have ANY sense of self-preservation? You have a gun at your back and you are being turned on by a muscled masked dude in the middle of a room of men full of machine guns…all of which look NEFARIOUS, by the way. Have you also forgotten why you are EVEN HERE? RED FLAGS EVERYWHERE. RED ALERT RED ALERT. RED FLAG ALERT. THE BIGGEST RED FLAG! Myra worked her lips, trying to tame her inner dialogue. She focused her attention on Bane’s back, unsure of how he would react to the perception of ‘spying’, despite her intentions being innocent in nature. The compilation of the gentle handling of her in the prior days hadn't gone unnoticed, however, and perhaps she stupidly felt safe under the care of him. The terrorist with the gun at her back, though? That was a different story. She didn’t know what he would do. She waited for Bane to turn around and look at her, but he never did. He maintained his focus on the drawings in front of him for several more moments before he finally spoke.“Leave us,” he said somewhat quietly, his tone unreadable. Everyone in the room immediately shuffled out, giving her a scrutinizing look as they passed her. She felt the barrel of the gun leave her back as the man behind her retreated with the rest of the men. She realized a majority of her fear left her with the exiting of both the gun and men from the room. For some inexplicable reason, she wasn't fearing for her life like she thought she should now that it was just her and Bane. She was left with a new, awkward feeling of embarrassment and uncertainty. Myra gaped, grasping for excuses. “I…I swear I wasn’t spying! Why would I be spying! I heard screaming and was concerned! I wanted to see if I could help!” Myra gasped out, trying to rationalize her reason for being outside the door. Bane didn’t immediately respond, instead slowly rolling up a few of the maps on the table with care. When Bane finally turned towards her, his brows furrowed as he did so. He took several slow steps towards her until he was directly in front of her, only a foot or so distance between them. “Oh?” he asked her, clearly inviting further clarification.Myra squirmed under the additional scrutiny of his glare. Oh, and because he was shirtless and mere inches away. Her eyes lingered on his toned chest probably a second or two longer than what would have been considered casually acceptable or appropriate. “...yes. I was on my way to help Arif. I promise…,” Myra said, feeling suddenly breathless. She also realized in that moment that he had given her numerous ‘chances’ by this point and she didn't necessarily want to find out what might happen should she push him to that limit. She didn’t want him to feel like she was abusing whatever privileges he had afforded her to this point. Bane’s eyes roamed over her features for several long moments, studying her. He then turned away from her to make his way back to the table, his attention fixated back on the few drawings still spread out on the surface. “You had better make haste, then. He will be expecting you,” he said as he used his hand to rearrange a map on the table. Myra balked, wringing her hands and shuffling her feet. She cleared her throat before speaking.“That’s…it?” Myra managed to mumble out. Bane appeared to ignore her statement, or perhaps didn’t hear her. She decided to speak up again. “You aren’t going to…to…punish me?” she squeaked out a bit louder, her attention darting to the dead man on the floor off to the side. Idiot. You probably should have just turned and ran. You are asking for CLARIFICATION WHETHER YOU SHOULD BE DEAD OR NOT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. This got his attention. He lifted his head up from his analysis on the drawings, staring across to the opposite wall for several moments before slowly turning back towards her. He then proceeded to slowly approach her. Myra likened it to a predator stalking its prey. “Is that your expectation? That I punish you?” he asked almost defensively, but mostly mockingly. He was clearly in a mood. Myra’s brows furrowed at this, feeling like he was simply finding humor in her obvious distress over a very realistic expectation based on her prior observations of him and the dead man on the floor. She also felt like he may be in a sour mood due to whatever happened between him and that same dead man. That was none of her business, as she was not involved. She decided to scowl at the unfairness of his attitude towards her.“No, of course not…you just keep making a habit of warning me about all of the chances you’ve given m-”, Myra started to sass, but was immediately cut off mid-sentence by Bane snatching her arm abruptly and yanking her towards the table with the maps. Too startled to process what was happening, her gaze fixated on the drawings briefly before she felt herself being pushed forward to bend at the waist face-first against the table. She then felt Bane’s large hand press down against her lower back, pinning her down, which of course induced immediate struggling on her part. Her struggling came to an abrupt halt, however, when she felt an expertly aimed slap by a very large palm on her left butt cheek. There was a dramatic pause, almost as if he was willing her to process what it was that was happening to her and the accompanying shame she may feel, before she felt several more slaps against her posterior. She was too stunned to speak. She felt her body go rigid, unable to do anything but willingly submit to whatever kind of torture it was that was being delivered to her. This left her even more speechless as red started spreading across her cheeks as Bane made several final slaps against her rump. Bane then grabbed the back collar of her shirt to hoist her up away from the table, pulling her back against him. Finding that her feet were practically useless to establish solid footing, she couldn’t help but fall back into him, her back lightly ricocheting off of the front of his chest. She surprised herself by making no effort to recover her footing and posture properly to ease away from him, instead settling with taking advantage of his stability while she half-leaned back against him. He brought his hands up to wrap around each of her upper arms to steady her, ensuring she didn’t fully lose her footing. “Oh,” she said, the sound out of her mouth before she could adequately process. It wasn’t shame that she was feeling, necessarily. It was something else entirely. Whatever it was, she was still obviously processing. Bane stood at her back, leaning in to position the tip of the mouthpiece of his mask close to her ear with very little space between the two of them. Due to the height difference between the two, he needed to arch his neck down to accomplish this task. He chose to use a very light, gentle voice when he spoke again. He also maintained his hold on her arms, gripping her upper biceps with each hand. “Are you finished being a troublemaker for today?” Bane mused into her ear, his tone reflecting that he wasn’t particularly angry or annoyed, but instead thoroughly amused by this point. Myra couldn’t help but be mildly alarmed by his abrupt mood shift. He was also quiet, so quiet that she knew that his voice didn’t carry beyond their own peri personal space. She even felt the brief brush of metal against the shell of her ear from the tip of his mask, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin at the sensation. Myra swallowed down her initial impulsive retort. NO. NO, I AM NOT DONE. WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT JUST HAPPENED? CAN WE DO IT ONCE MORE SO I CAN SEE IF I LIKE IT BETTER A SECOND TIME? “Mmmuh…” Myra mumbled out awkwardly, her mind still in a fog of complex emotions, explicit images, and shock. She also felt goosebumps erupt all over her arms. She felt Bane squeeze and adjust his hold on her upper arms suddenly, almost in reaction to her sudden outbreak of goosebumps. Ever so slowly, she felt him glide one of his large hands down her arm to her elbow before making the journey back up to secure its place around her upper bicep. It felt almost sensual, if not for his extremely large hands paired with his callous palms catching on each goosebump on her skin as his hands slid over her skin. She couldn’t help but feel his touch was deliberate and served a clear purpose, perhaps taking in the tactile feel of the goosebumps he was undoubtedly responsible for and relishing in it. HE IS SUCH A VILLAIN! He gave her one final gentle squeeze with both of his hands, perhaps to ground her back in reality in an affirming gesture and to get her attention. “Arif is waiting for you. Best not to make him wait, hm?” he said quietly, his voice still so incredibly soft and gentle as if they had both just woken from a long nap. Myra swallowed again, deciding to nod once instead of using verbal communication, knowing it would continue to fail her. Still facing away from him, her attention drifted to the drawings on the table, though mentally, she was transfixed on the inappropriate imagery flashing in her brain. All she could do was let out a semi-frustrated huff, feeling her mind and body suddenly frustrated on multiple levels. “Good girl,” he whispered into her ear before steering her away from the tables and giving her a gentle shove towards the exit as an indicator that he was done with her. He turned his focus back to the maps on the table with little fanfare. Myra stumbled several steps forward before turning around to give him a startled look, her nerves doing summersaults inside of her body. That was….holy cow. What the hell was that? Am I a bad person for liking that? Am I going insane? My GOD. “I’ll fetch you from the kitchen later. Hopefully your ability to speak will have returned by then,” Bane called out over his shoulder. Myra ignored him. As Myra slowly massaged the soreness out of her ass, she saw Bane turn towards her with an upturned brow, daring her to speak. She chose silence, slowly turning back to the exit. She immediately squinted, feeling soreness blossoming in the meat of her cheeks as she made her way out of the room. She passed Barsad as she exited, who gave her a knowing and mildly bemused look. She grimaced before stalking off to the kitchen area. Myra had made her way to Arif to attend to her kitchen duties with little fanfare, though she did appear to walk with a mild limp. She worked silently, though she was attentive and provided Arif with an affirming nod or polite laugh in response to whatever joke he may be uttering under his breath several paces away. In all honesty, her thoughts were utterly consumed by the encounter she just had with Bane. She kept replaying it in her mind. Dissecting it. Analyzing it. Scrutinizing it. Continuing to ponder the conundrum of suddenly being ( was it sudden?) attracted to a clear-cut villain. Was he clear-cut? It wasn’t long before she was eventually escorted away from her kitchen duties to the training room by Bane. Whether Bane was aware of the inner turmoil that Myra has suffered since their last interaction, he made no indication. Barsad was waiting for them when Bane and Myra entered. Myra turned to look at Bane expectantly, who in turn motioned towards Barsad. “Barsad has kindly volunteered to assist in elevating your self-defense lessons,” he said cordially. Myra turned to Barsad. The look that Barsad featured indicated that he perhaps did not willingly volunteer despite Bane saying so. Myra couldn’t help but grin. Bane had Myra practice leveraging her weight to flip her opponent from behind her. Myra was extremely skeptical about her ability to roll or manipulate Barsad's weight, considering her own size, strength, and weight compared to his. She wasn't 'short', but she wasn't quite as tall or as big as Barsad was."I'm going to injure myself," Myra verbalized her doubts."No you won't. If you do as I instructed, then you have nothing to worry about," Bane said.Bane pointed for Barsad to stand behind Myra. Barsad's expression was one of exasperated boredom. He even let his body hang limply as if he were being inconvenienced terribly."Put your hand on her shoulder," Bane ordered Barsad with a finger point as if he needed directing.Myra felt Barsad's hand plop limply on her shoulder."Alright, now do as I told you and roll him over your shoulder," Bane told Myra.Myra eyed Bane skeptically before taking hold of Barsad's limp hand at her shoulder. She turned her head to eye Barsad. She mouthed, "I'm sorry!" before she crouched down and forward, using the momentum and weight of her body to yank him down and forward over her onto the ground. He landed with a thud on his back. He stayed lying on the mat motionless, staring up at the ceiling. He certainly wasn't injured, but he definitely had a look that indicated he was questioning his life choices.Myra got down onto her knees and crawled next to Barsad's head, looking down at his neutral expression."I DID IT!" she yelled, not realizing her excitement amplified her voice directly into Barsad's face. He turned his head away at her boisterousness.Barsad grunted. Myra pouted half-heartedly, sitting back on her legs to free her hands to cup Barsad's face between them."I'm sorry Barsad. I know it must hurt your sensibilities to have someone much smaller and weaker than you toss you around like a peanut," she teased him by lightly patting his bearded cheek.Barsad stared back up at her, his expression lazy and unamused though she knew by now that he looked that way regardless of the situation. "Again," Bane barked, though Myra thought she could detect hints of satisfaction in his voice at her successfully performing the technique on her first try. It was also possible he found her teasing of Barsad amusing.Myra gave Barsad one more teasing smile before she hoisted herself up. She extended a hand down to Barsad, who initially seemed inclined to decline it, but lifted his arm up and took hold of her hand to hoist himself up. They performed the exercise several more times before Bane was satisfied with Myra's abilities. Barsad stalked away after he was dismissed with moderate enthusiasm."Thanks, Barsad!" Myra shouted after him. He didn't seem to hear or acknowledge that he heard her.Myra rounded on Bane, bringing up a finger and poking him in the chest playfully. Her mood and feelings were elevated due to the recent successes at performing the exercises with Barsad and the moderately proud look that Bane conveyed to her, making her feel slightly giddy and foolish. Oh, and the corporal punishment she received earlier from Bane to her behind. "When do I get to try that on you, huh? Flip you over?" Myra said teasingly as she gave him another prod with her finger. Bane looked down at the finger that was prodding into his chest before looking back up at her. He snatched her finger into his fist quickly before applying a delicate squeeze."I'd injure you, unfortunately. I doubt you will ever have an attacker my size. If you do, my suggestion to you would be to run," Bane stated matter-of-factly.Myra’s eyes moved to their joined hands; her finger dwarfed by his fist. Her cheeks transitioned to a light shade of red.Bane, missing nothing, eyed her features. “I believe you are blushing,” he said respectfully, though there was the faintest note of tease in his tone. This, of course, induced an immediate reaction from Myra. She tried reclaiming her finger, her eyes laser-focused on the task. Unfortunately, Bane’s grip was simply too strong and he wasn’t yet ready to relinquish his hold.“...no, I’m not ,” she finally said, feeling highly embarrassed. She honestly wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again. One of Bane’s eyebrows rose, knowing he was pushing the boundaries of her comfort yet chose to proceed forward due to her blatant lie and his incessant need to tease. “Would you like a reason to?” he asked smoothly, his voice transitioning to the same soft velvety tone she heard from him in the room with the maps and the spanking. Myra’s eyes FLEW up to his in shock, quite literally speechless at the possible innuendo. He didn’t make any attempt to move closer, respecting her personal boundaries, but it was clear that he was priming to do so. She couldn’t think of a response, let alone words for a response. So, instead, she swallowed loudly and stared like a buffoon. There was evidence of Bane smiling behind the mask, his features softening considerably as he surrendered his hold on her finger. Bane generally fed and thrived on the fear and hesitancy of his opponents, but this kind of speechlessness had a different sort of satisfaction for him. Bane wasn’t an idiot; he was extremely proficient at reading people and Myra was an open book, unaccustomed to having to mask her feelings. This resulted in a combination of a woman who inadequately hid her emotions from a man who was a master of reading them. He was flushing her out, quite literally, like a hound dog giving chase to a fox down a foxhole. The fox would have to come out eventually. She immediately reclaimed her finger, though she made no attempt to retreat away from him or increase the physical distance between the two of them. Bane inspected her for a brief moment before speaking again. "We finished earlier than usual. Care for exploring a new board game? The game titled “Battleship” looks enticing,” he mused, clearly making an attempt to steer the conversation away from the reason for her obvious stupor. Myra’s eyes shot up to him finally, clearly appreciating the change in topic with an audible sigh. She then gave an extremely enthusiastic nod, even going so far as scooting her way towards the door in a terrible, terrible version of the "Moonwalk." Euphoria did strange things to the brain and body, apparently. Bane just walked a safe distance behind her as they made their way back to the room with the cot, not wanting to fall victim to whatever disease seemed to take hold of Myra's body.After an hour or so later, like most everything else Bane did that involved a moderate number of tactical skills, he destroyed her at the game."Beginner's luck," Myra goaded, as if trying to convince herself that Bane had 'some' type of weakness beyond him winning against her at games that required even a small amount of tactical consideration.Bane decided to play her again, and then again after that, easily beating her each time. Myra decided to add "Battleship" to her blacklist.She wasn't particularly upset over the repeated beatings, however, because Bane stayed and played with her far longer than she had anticipated or hoped for. She wasn’t the type of individual that needed to win a game to enjoy it. On the contrary; as long as the opponent was engaging and challenging, she enjoyed herself. Bane was definitely engaging and challenging on multiple levels. Myra’s routine had stayed relatively the same for a handful of days, helping Arif in the morning and training in the late afternoon with Bane until her body protested. Arif had started opening up to her considerably more, warming up to the point where he sometimes began speaking in a stream of consciousness towards her that Myra couldn’t quite keep up with but enjoyed immensely, nonetheless. It was mostly things like tasks he may have forgotten to do that day, or remembering that one time he tried that delicious food on the banks of a quant river in a remote part of some country and oh how he wish Myra could have tried it because then she would understand why he preferred to combine these certain ingredients, how abused he felt for not being allowed more space to pursue his cooking mastery, etc. She regarded him as a nosy but caring grandfatherly figure who always kept a watchful eye on her and ensured she wasn’t bothered while she was under his care. In all honesty, she got the impression that he simply enjoyed having someone around even if a comfortable silence settled between them. How could she not love that? After approximately a week, however, Myra was surprised to discover that she was to be relocated back to the utility closet room that afternoon. It had obviously been clean, and there were a few additions added to the environment. Namely, a set of security cameras that aimed outward from the closet to identify the comings-and-goings of anyone who perhaps wasn’t supposed to be there. An added safety precaution, Bane noted. Myra couldn’t help but feel a considerable amount of disappointment at the relocation. She had enjoyed the cot, the sink, the toilet, and the shower immensely. In addition, even though it had been only a week or so and it was technically ‘labor’, she also valued her time in the kitchen helping Arif with the dishes. It had provided an outlet for her; an escape from the monotony of lying in a room, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. For what? Myra wasn’t even sure at this point. The police? The hostage exchange? Her death? She had started to grow a moderate level of indifference to the former, by this point finding their services and capabilities wholly inadequate and that perhaps this was her new life now and she should get used to it. As far as the question of her death was concerned, Bane had shown her on numerous occasions that he had no intention of killing her. On the contrary, he even seemed to take an active role to ensure she had the competency to defend herself should she need to in the future. Her only real question was what he would do with her if the police never succeeded in coordinating a hostage exchange. Would she be a perpetual ward of Bane? Doing dishes and being stuck in a utility closet? Be slaved out? Whored out? She thought that possibility highly unlikely, knowing she was probably far more inconvenience than convenience to whatever operation he had running with elevated secrecy. Each additional person under his care was one additional possible weak link in his whole organization, particularly for someone like Myra who had an obviously different set of beliefs and ethics than those she found herself surrounded with under his care. As Bane continued to escort her back to the utility closet with a blindfold in place over her eyes, her silence and despondent attitude adequately communicated her displeasure. As she felt Bane bring her to a halt and remove the blindfold, she looked up through the frame of the door to a sight she wasn’t quite anticipating. It was so unexpected that she didn’t even blink to turn her attention to her periphery to the new stack of floor mats that had materialized against the wall, her eyes fixated on the changes made to the closet. “We’ll continue your training in the evenings, time willing. I anticipate no trouble from you in that regard?” he questioned, one of his brows raised at her as he watched her take in the utility closet. By this point Myra had a handful of moments to spy the changes made to the room, barely registering what he was saying. The first thing she noticed was the large ornamental rug that covered the floor, clearly new since the corners of the rug still curled upward awkwardly as if it had just been rolled out. The second thing she noticed was a large contraption in the far corner, taking up about a 10th of the space of the closet. Upon further inspection, she realized that it was some sort of portable toilet with a portable tank of water, a seat, and waste system that could be removed and emptied. She saw a stack of hand sanitizer and wet towelettes next to the toilet, as well as a fresh stock of toilet paper, female sanitation items, and a cloth bag that had a few items like a comb, brush, nail clippers, and facial cleansers sticking out of it. Her attention turned to her sleeping bag, noticing the original had been disposed of and a new fresher and puffier one took its place on top of a cot that elevated the undesirable sleeping position from the floor. She fixated on the cot, thinking it looked even more cozy and comfortable than the one that Bane had been using and had allowed her to use in her temporary room in the underground. She saw that the small card table had also been stacked with additional games topping its surface as well as a dozen books next to a battery-operated stereo that displayed the time with an assortment of CDs. Below the table was a portable TV with a DVD player, a stack of second-hand DVDs, a video game console and video games piled next to it. She also saw a stack of fresh clothes on the end of the cot as well as an additional blanket and pillow, both looking brand new. The thing that pushed her over the edge was the extremely small mini fridge that was plugged into the only outlet in the closet next to the light switch. Various kinds of snacks were stacked on top of it. She stepped forward hesitantly to open it up, seeing bottled water, juice, tea, and a few refrigerated snacks piled inside. The whole spectacle was a far cry from her original entry to the closet, with the used sleeping bag on the floor next to the bucket for her waste haunting her dreams. All Myra could do was close the fridge door, stand up straight, and stare, unsure of what kind of emotions she should be feeling. Not only would she get to continue her training, but her living situation actually seemed slightly nicer than the room she had been using for the past week or so. My room seems even nicer than my captor’s. That feels…odd. Should I feel appreciative? While she would certainly miss the company of Arif and the escape from monotony that being in the kitchen afforded her, she felt somewhat better about this new situation. Did she play video games? No, but it was the thought that counted. She was also still allowed to train in the late afternoons, and it looked like there were additional items in the room to keep her entertained. Her eyes darted to the stereo and portable TV. Bane gave her time to process her new surroundings but took the opportunity to point at the stereo when he realized that was where her attention was. “I will be here approximately 4:30 PM every afternoon for training. Be prepared when I arrive,” he said before turning away from her to exit. Myra continued staring at the changes to the room, barely registering the fact that he was already making his exit. “Wait!” she sputtered out suddenly, feeling the need to thank him somehow but still feeling mildly awkward at the prospect of thanking someone for keeping her in a room against her will. He could be making your life a lot worse, though. Right? However, it was too late. The door had already been shut and locked. She stared at it for several seconds, wondering if he perhaps heard her and would investigate what her concern was. However, he didn’t, which just resulted in her standing facing the door awkwardly until she eventually turned back around to take in her new living situation. Myra did, in fact, find her new living situation considerably more comfortable than it was prior. It led her to have some concerns about how long it was she was anticipated to stay there, though, given the trouble of upgrading her conveniences. If she was only expected to be there another day or so, why go through the trouble? This, in turn, troubled her. Myra decided the next time she saw Bane, she was going to voice her concerns. As far as Bane’s progress with coordinating with the police was concerned, the reality was that there was no update. In fact, all communication with the police had suddenly stopped. Not from Bane. It was the police’s side that disrupted all communications. Bane was idling, expecting perhaps a change in leadership of the situation and perhaps the problem would resolve itself. However, it had been a full week and no word. Whether this worried or concerned Bane, he didn’t bring it up nor did trouble lace his features when he suspected that Myra was pondering her status as a hostage. Myra decided to suppress her concerns, however, when she noticed an additional guest of Bane’s as he let her out of the closet and onto the cushioned floor mats in the underground parking garage. On this particular day, Bane had brought an accomplice with him to begin testing Myra’s skills to identify deficiencies in her ability to defend herself. The accomplice that Bane had brought down to assess Myra’s progress went by the name of Yair, and he looked just as displeased with being there as Myra did with having him there. That was, until he saw Myra. His eyes immediately raked over her face and body, not hiding the suggestiveness in his eyes. He was younger, brazen, arrogant, and had the look of someone who was extremely wound up and in desperate need of an outlet. Bane had no finesse when it came to rooting out weak spots, as Myra unfortunately found out from Bane’s words directed towards Yair. "You may do as you wish with her," Bane said to Yair as he motioned to Myra. Myra’s eyebrows nearly shot through the roof. Yair took on the look of extreme skepticism. It was obvious by this point that some type of orders or direction had been given in regard to whether Myra was or wasn’t someone that should be ‘tampered with’, as evidenced by the pile of dead bodies of three comrades from the weeks prior. Given this, Yair made no attempt whatsoever to move towards Myra. Myra had taken a step back away from Yair as precaution, putting a healthy amount of distance between herself and him in case he felt reckless and suicidal. "She has the tools and skills to defend herself…if she allows herself to. I’d like to assess her instinct," Bane clarified, hinting at consequences if she wasn't successful.Myra and Yair looked at each other incredulously, eyes wide. Her expression was one of tight-lipped disbelief, his expression matching hers until his eyelids dropped and his lips slipped into a sleazy upturn at the corners. He even had the audacity of giving her a full up and down look-over with his eyes once more, causing her eyebrows to further raise up before plunging down into a furrow in annoyance, disgust, and with a slight dash of fear. Myra had the impression that Bane was merely trying to trigger an instinctual response out of her to defend herself, similar to how some farmers might send herding dogs to a cow who wasn’t accepting her calf. The instinct to defend her calf would kick in at the threat of the dogs, resulting in a cow that was essentially pushed emotionally to accept her calf. Was it cruel? Perhaps, but so was having a dead calf. Was this method effective? Absolutely. "You're joking," Myra spat out incredulously, feeling suddenly like a piece of livestock faced against an unruly canine. "Unfortunately for you, I’m not," Bane said casually, turning his back on the pair while absentmindedly tying knots with a parachute cord. Her mind began to race, the trauma of being in the closet cornered by three men suddenly clouding her focus. She felt another emotion: betrayal. She had felt that on some level Bane had prevented her from getting assaulted and seriously injured on several occasions, perhaps even going above-and-beyond to do so given their relationship as hostage and captor. To have him go from being the one to shield her from harm to instead instigate it was incredibly disheartening, disorienting, and confusing. All Myra could do was stare at Bane’s back, unable to project to him her conflicted feelings.Before Myra could think further or react, Yair was on her. She let out a gasp as she was knocked onto her back, hitting the foam-matted floor and feeling the wind knocked out of her. She clenched her teeth, bringing her hands up to push against Yair's chest in an attempt to push him off. She was immediately demoralized, noticing that every ounce of energy and strength she used barely seemed to phase or budge his body off of her. She periodically clenched her fists together to punch at him, but this seemed to only amuse him. His knee was between her thighs, forcing them apart even wider as his hand found its way to her waistband, his fingers starting to snake and force themselves under the hem of her pants, eventually sandwiching themselves between her skin and the hem of her underwear. His other arm was bent, with his forearm pressed against her collarbone, using the weight of his upper body to keep her pinned down.Myra's legs began to thrash wildly when she felt his fingers make contact with the skin on her stomach and start to slide further south under her underwear. Tears budded at the corner of her eyes as she shouted at him with pure venomous rage and desperation. She began to huff wildly, exhaustion catching up with her, the sense of desperation and self-preservation the only thing keeping her animated, forcing her limbs past their limit. She watched as Yair's lips upturned into that slimy, greasy, lazy disgusting smile; his eyelids half lowered as he watched her reaction while his fingers began to inch down between her legs.Yair's fingers never made it to their destination, however, as his body and subsequently his hand was bodily removed from her by two much larger hands gripping the fabric at his back, pulling him off. "Alright, playtime is over", Bane said as if in jest, though there was no amusement in his voice as he tossed the man like a sack of potatoes a good 5 feet to the side. Yair barely managed to land on his feet, but when he did, he turned to look at both Bane and Myra as if he had been promised a treat and that promise had yet to be fulfilled. When Yair didn’t immediately exit, Bane turned on him with venomous rage. “ Leave,” Bane fumed towards Yair, giving him a menacing glare that motivated him to forget the ‘treat’ and instead hustle his way out of the parking garage basement level. Myra could tell Bane was clearly not amused as he slowly turned his attention back towards her. Myra stayed on her back staring up at him, exhaustion still consuming her and making her numb, disoriented, and tingly. Before she could react or think further, he bent down to grab the scruff of her shirt, hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing, keeping her lifted up off of the ground briefly before planting her feet firmly but gently back on ground. He maintained his hold on her scruff, giving her the briefest of shakes to get her attention as if he didn’t already fully have it. Myra brought her hands up to hold onto his to steady herself, expecting some sort of pain or injury from the manhandling he prescribed but surprisingly felt none despite the grip he maintained around her shirt collar. She couldn’t help but try to avert the intense scrutiny of his glare, her eyes darting away and to the floor. Myra's eyes flickered upward towards his after several moments of hearing very audible huffs being emitted through his mask towards her. Seeing the sheer annoyance in the look he gave her made her immediately look away once more. They stayed that way for several seconds, Myra waiting for Bane to say or do something, but when he did nothing but maintain an uncomfortable silence, she finally felt a surge of courage erupt in her chest. Her eyes slowly turned to lock on his, her brows furrowing slightly to illustrate her own displeasure. She felt in her gut that returning his glare was quite possibly the bravest thing she had ever done in her life. Her features very clearly displayed how she felt about his apparent betrayal and total lack of situational awareness for how this particular kind of ‘training’ might further traumatize her. Her nostrils flared briefly, her lips working together as if she were going to chastise him for his poor decision making. Her courage (or lack thereof) suddenly caught up with her, however, when one of his eyebrows furrowed even further down over his eye as he maintained his focus on her, his mastery at intimidation in full effect. She decided to quickly investigate the floor, finding it suddenly worth her full and undivided attention. A few seconds later, her face crumpled with emotion. Fear of rejection and disapproval overtook her face as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.“Please don’t hate me,” she mumbled, feeling pathetic. Bane, for his part, quickly eased up on the hold he had on her scruff, dropping his large hands to her shoulders. “Please don’t kill me”, “Please don’t hurt me!” , or even “Please end it quickly!” were things that he was used to hearing people beg when confronted with the misfortune of being on the receiving end of Bane’s displeasure. However, “Please don’t hate me”? That very well may have been a first. He had to mask his amusement at the request, finding it an appealing mix of endearing and contrite. “Hate you?” he asked for clarity, his hand moving from her shoulder up to the side of her neck, resting it there comfortably before one of his fingers barely stroked her skin. Goosebumps immediately erupted all over. Myra remained silent, her eyes still focused on the ground, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands. “ Hate you?” he asked again, still reeling in the mild amusement of the remark. Humor had found its way back into his voice by this point.Myra’s eyes flashed suddenly, anger and shame suddenly fueling her at being goaded and teased. By such a…a…BULLY!!! She stared daggers at Bane. Bane, for his part, was incredibly unphased, though he did ease back on his teasing and opted to provide clarity instead. “I hate that you could find yourself in an uncomfortable situation, being unable to defend yourself against someone with the intent of harming or touching you,” Bane continued, using his thumb to glide along the curve of her jaw. Myra was still annoyed, her lips working together as she continued to glare at him. She didn’t filter her next words as well as she should have, upon reflection.“Oh? Like you touching me?” she sassed, her brows furrowing even deeper as she dared a response from him in her elevated state of feeling affronted. Whether Myra’s words affected him or not, it was difficult to say due to the steady gaze he maintained on her. One eyebrow did quirk up, however, at the verbal accusation. His hand stilled for a moment at the side of her face, frozen in place cupped against her ear before resuming to provide the softest of caresses against her jaw line. “Would you like me to stop touching you?” he asked quietly, the note of tease gone in his tone, replaced with sincerity and concern. Bane, of course, already knew the answer to the question simply based on the way she always subtly leaned into his touch like a shy flower seeking scraps of sunlight. He knew that perhaps she wasn’t even aware of these physical indicators that she was emitting and was instead acting purely on impulsive urges. He had had an inkling that she was aware of her blushing, however. And the goosebumps, though try as she might to ignore them. He brushed his finger along the edge of her cheek as if he were about to remark about the particular hue that now coated her skin but chose to hold his tongue.Myra immediately knew she dug herself into an uncomfortable hole. Also, why was he always so good at eliciting goosebumps? Why? WHY? Treacherous skin! Of course, she didn’t want to admit that she actually enjoyed it when he touched her. At least not out loud. Saying it out loud would make it real. Especially considering her whole reason for being here; taken hostage against her will. It was hard for her to not be ashamed that the knuckle-dragger villain who wore a frightening mask she initially saw wasn’t at all what her first impression dictated and that he was in fact quite intelligent and had the capacity to be gentle. The truth was that she had started to feel something for that ‘knuckle-dragger felon’ despite her better judgment, knowing how absolutely absurd and reckless that notion was. I’m assuming he’s a felon. He robbed a stock exchange and kidnapped me. Right? I doubt this is his first foray into crime… Now, because of her lack of foresight, she was forced to respond to him about her desires directly. She could lie, and say ‘yes, please stop touching me,’ but she didn’t like that thought one bit. The anger she had been aiming towards him suddenly turned inwards, her face suddenly blooming a brilliant red as she stood paralyzed in indecision. The truth was that she absolutely loved the feel of his skin against hers. She loved it when he gave her attention. When he looked at her. When he touched her face, stroked her hair, or held her hand. Even if the purpose for doing so was purely utilitarian, like directing her blindfolded down the tunnels so she wouldn’t trip. Her paralysis eased up just enough for her to avert her eyes, hoping she could avoid answering the question altogether if she redirected her attention to the floor. Classic move. Brilliant. So smooth. So…not…awkward. Bane used his thumb to tilt her chin up towards him, giving him the opportunity to also take in the full spectrum of red that now coated her face. “Is your impression that I value my time so little that I would trouble myself with training you if I hated you?” he asked, choosing to redirect the conversation by referring to her original request to not be hated. Perhaps he was attuned enough to Myra to know he wasn’t going to receive a verbal confirmation from her and instead of torturing her in her own discomfort, opted to move the conversation along. Myra didn’t know how to respond to that, her mind still reeling from the embarrassment from the previous question he had directed at her. She was thankful he wasn’t forcing an answer out of her, but this new question made her feel somewhat foolish for not seeing the obvious herself. She felt her heart sink upon reflecting her own failure, knowing he sacrificed his own time and energy to try and train her against harm and she blew it. She certainly didn’t want him to think that perhaps he would feel like any additional effort would, in fact, be a waste of time and cease training her. This thought brought sudden fear into her mind. “Please don’t stop training me. I promise I’ll try and do better next time,” she practically begged, bringing up one hand to wrap around his wrist in emphasis while finally raising her eyes to meet his. Bane certainly wasn’t obtuse. He knew the brief look of distrust and betrayal that had skipped over Myra’s face originally when she looked at him moments prior, knowing they must have stemmed from his choice of using an indelicate, unorthodox means of rooting out her deficiencies. He also knew she must still be harboring traumatic baggage from her ordeal with the three men surprising her with an unwanted, forced visit. However, an attacker wouldn’t care what kind of ordeal she had been subjected to. She needed to learn to overcome that block. Bane’s fingers returned to provide delicate caresses to the side of her jaw and cheek as he examined her features, taking his time with a response to her request. “Of course I won’t stop. However, you must learn to react on instinct. If you are thinking about what you should be doing, or how it is making you feel, you are already too slow and it’s too late,” he told her. Myra nodded, his words sinking as she reflected again on the situation. Bane eventually removed his hand from her face, bringing both of his arms up to curl his fists around the upper straps of his vest casually. He took a step back to lean back and appraise her, his chest puffing out as he relaxed his stance."We'll finish this later," Bane said finally, his voice illustrating a sense of ease as he turned his head towards the exit. Myra’s eyes shifted towards Bane, still feeling mildly awkward and confused by the whole situation but slowly transitioning to feeling relaxed by the ease he was projecting in his body language. "Would you care for an order of take-out food?" he suddenly mused. Myra lifted her brows, the look of shock plastered across her face as she made eye contact with him. Bane was actually asking her what she wanted to eat? In take-out form? As if there had always been options outside of Arif’s menu? Was he teasing her?When she continued to stare at him, not favoring him with a reply, he turned his body towards her. "It's impolite not to respond when spoken to," he mused, finally calling her out on her sudden habit of refusing him with a verbal answer and instead just providing awkward stares. The shock on Myra’s face finally settled before her mind began racing and searching for the first thing she may be craving but had been otherwise unable to eat due to her current predicament."Pizza," she blurted out. "Cheese pizza."Bane regarded her briefly before nodding, letting his eyes search and settle onto hers. Myra half expected him to say something like, "That would be nice, wouldn't it?", or something demoralizing simply to tease her. Instead, he continued to nod before finally directing her back to the closet so he could facilitate the food order. "Pizza it is."When Bane arrived an hour or two later back to the closet with a pizza box in hand, Myra devoured it. 'Inhaled' might be a more apt description of it, to be honest. She disregarded table manners as she took each slice like it was about to disappear out of her hand at a moment's notice. Bane, of course, didn't eat in front of her but still sat at the small card table she was occupying, appraising her appetite and ability to consume an entire pizza."Aren't you going to eat?" Myra asked finally as she made it halfway through the consumption of the pizza. Bane was seated in his chair idly, watching the whole ordeal with amusement."I will later," he replied casually, gazing at her as if he were watching a zoo animal.Myra was already chomping on the next slice when her eyes lifted up over the slice of pizza to look at him, settling on his mask knowing there must be some level of difficulty eating with it in place. She wasn't sure if he preferred privacy during that time either, but her hunch was confirmed when he continued to sit idly and watch while she finished the pizza. There were no leftovers.Bane decided to abandon the use of a 'volunteer' to establish Myra's proficiency level regarding her self-defense, perhaps realizing his tactics were more cruel than effective considering her state of mind and proficiency. It wasn't that she hadn't been listening; on the contrary, she usually soaked up his knowledge, and when working with Barsad, did as she was instructed perfectly well. However, when put in a situation that required instinctual reaction and equally quick reaction time, she had her failings. Bane decided to focus on those aspects, starting with reaction time. The methods he employed were considerably less sinister than the ones he used the day prior. Bane stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest."Today we will focus on your reaction time. Yesterday proved that there was room for improvement in this regard,” he told her. Bane eyed her for a brief moment to highlight his point. Myra just looked off to the side, still somewhat embarrassed over the whole ordeal."Reaction time isn't inherent. It can be taught and built upon. Now, try and stop me."Myra was about to ask what he meant when she suddenly felt a slap on the side of her head. It wasn't aggressive, and it didn't hurt, but MY GOD was it annoying. She narrowed her eyes at him, ready to unleash some verbal venom when she felt another 'slap' on the side of her arm that felt like a giant solid pancake whipping against her skin." STOP," she shouted at him, clearly annoyed. She brought her hands up in front of her chest to ready herself to deflect another incoming slap. She waited for several seconds in anticipation before she felt another slap on the opposite side of her head. She barely even saw him move. She decided to retaliate by bringing her hand forward to slap him on the arm. Her hand never made contact with his skin, however, for he snatched her hand out of the air effortlessly. He held onto it while his other hand was used to smack her on the side of the shoulder and subsequently the head again.Myra began writhing in his grip, moving her body as far away from his free hand as she could, eyeing it like it was a snake ready to strike. She used her other hand to try and pry her hand out of his. As she did so, she felt two more slaps make contact with the top of her head and the side of her hip."How am I supposed to stop you if you won't let me go? What are you expecting me to do, kick you in the groin?" she breathed angrily.Bane found this incredibly humorous."Anticipate my movement with my body language. Also, you still have use of your other hand. Use it,” he pointed out unsympathetically.Myra made a valiant effort to deflect several more of his light smacks, even almost successfully deflecting one though in all honestly it was an accident. Bane saw she was getting frustrated, however, at being paired up with someone with a much higher reaction time than she had. He decided to transition the lesson slightly, again maintaining a less serious undertone than the one he used the day before but still harboring the same principles.Bane finally let go of her hand, moving around and behind her. Myra eyed him distrustfully as he did so, unsure of what his motives were. He moved his hands to take hold of her elbows, elevating them slightly and positioning her forearms as if to imprison her head between her forearms."If someone is hitting you in the head, protect it. Ignore other blows to your body. It can take care of itself," Bane said as he moved back around to stand in front of her.Myra eyed him with her arms raised up lightly caging and protecting her head. She felt another smack on the side of her hip. She impulsively moved one of her arms down as if to block the hit with a considerable delay, but Bane quickly corrected her by grabbing her arm roughly and putting it back next to her head."Don't move your arms. Ignore everything else happening to your body. If you are being physically assaulted, focus on you protecting your head first. When that’s safe, you can refocus your energy and react appropriately elsewhere…and yes, like kicking someone in the groin ," he said sternly.He smacked her on the side of her shoulder. Myra felt herself reflectively want to move her arms down from around her head but kept herself from doing so. She felt another smack try and make its way against her head, but her arms successfully blocked it. She felt a few more smacks on her hip and her shoulder, and then on the other side of her head which she blocked."Are you trying to tenderize me?" Myra quipped, her arms dropping slightly.Bane gave a gentle snort in response. "What did I say about keeping your arms up?" Bane barked as he smacked at her. Myra immediately lifted her arms back up to protect the side of her head with an annoyed sigh, waiting for another barrage of annoying smacks. Her arms were starting to get exhausted.Instead of smacking her again, which she was anticipating, Bane decided to test her ability and sincerity at keeping her arms up. He dropped a hand to her hip, squeezing it lightly before moving it up along her side. Myra was eyeing his behavior with the utmost suspicion, her eyes following his hand as it moved up from her hip to her side. As his hand made its way upwards, it began to tickle her ferociously.Now, it took a lot to genuinely phase and surprise Myra at this point as far as Bane was concerned, considering the hurdles she had overcome recently and the things she had witnessed him do. Being lightly tickled at her side by Bane's one hand was one thing that genuinely surprised and shocked her. She knew he had the capability of joking and that he even possessed a mild sense of humor, but it rarely extended into his physical being and actions he performed. If it could even be remotely categorized as being 'silly', she discounted it as something that she would ever see Bane doing. She immediately doubled over, her body arching away from the hand that was 'attacking' her."NO. TICKLING. STOP. I HATE IT," Myra shouted between forced laughs, feeling ridiculous and vulnerable. Myra had her boundaries, and tickling was one of them. She loathed being tickled. Bane picked up on the sincerity and loathing in her voice, snatching it up."You detest being tickled? That's interesting," Bane said, amusement thick in his voice. He did not let up. He was, after all, a bully. Myra immediately detected that Bane intended to use that to his advantage to drill into her whatever lesson or instruction he was trying to instill in her. Myra turned as if to scuttle away like an uneven drunk from Bane, moving her arms in an attempt to cover her sides."What did I say about moving your arms from your head?" Bane said as he snatched her by the arm before she made a getaway, seriousness thick in his voice, reminding Myra that although she might categorize this activity as 'silly', it had a logical purpose for Bane and therefore should be regarded as such.Myra growled at him. A genuine growl. "You're just going to tickle me again!” she shrieked at him. Bane nodded as if it were obvious. "Of course I will," he said.Myra made another attempt at fleeing, but to little avail. He eased her gently in front of him as if to reason with her, using the hold he had on her arm to guide her."If you can keep your hands covering your head for 30 seconds, then we can be done for today and go play whatever board game you wish," Bane compromised. "Tickling is a common torture technique. It’s also an excellent tool to teach control over your body and mind. 30 seconds is a good starting point."Myra eyed him suspiciously as if he were trying to trick and fool her by making things up. She worked it out in her mind, trying to gather the mental fortitude to withstand 30 seconds of tickling. She wasn't sure she could do it. She wasn't even sure it was humanly possible."That's not fair. People like you who aren't ticklish have a huge advantage," Myra complained."Who said I wasn't ticklish?" Bane asked sincerely. Myra eyed him, trying to picture him doubled over laughing from being tickled. It was quite difficult.Bane sensed her skepticism. "I have self-control and discipline . Something you appear to be severely lacking", Bane said as he eyed her up, his voice thick with amusement and condescension.Myra continued to eye him skeptically, not appreciating being picked apart. "Do your worst," Bane offered, inviting her to see if he would budge from being tickled.Myra inched forward hesitantly as if he were going to rescind his offer at a moment's notice. She brought her hands out to his sides, letting them hover for several seconds as she looked up at him for one last confirmation that it was okay to try and 'torture' him. He simply nodded expectantly at her. She deployed the same technique he used by feathering her fingers along his sides. She was at least expecting some sort of flinching or twitching, but she received no physical indicator from Bane that her fingers were affecting him at all. He simply looked down at her curiously. This emboldened Myra, who felt like she, too, should and could display the same level of discipline that he was demonstrating."Fine. I want it PROPERLY TIMED , though. Get a timer," Myra demanded.Bane pulled out a phone and set the timer to 30 seconds. He elevated his thumb over the 'start' button, his eyes on her, waiting for her to give the signal. Myra lifted her arms up to protect her head, adjusting her stance as if she were about to face the most difficult challenge imaginable to mankind. Bane pressed the button, putting it on the ground quickly but gently before advancing on her. He used both of his hands this time, letting his fingers do a crab-like fluttering walk up and down her sides. Myra immediately doubled over with laughter mixed with the uncomfortableness of being tickled, though she didn't move her arms from her head. She tried being sneaky by curling her body into a fetal position, dropping and rolling onto the ground in an attempt to bodily prevent Bane from accessing her sides.Bane, however, responded accordingly by dropping to one knee and rolled her body like dough towards him, continuing his half-hearted assault against her sides with unrelenting tickles.The timer eventually went off, but Bane didn't ease his tickling immediately. Myra began to scream bloody murder, her voice now shrill from oxygen deprivation from the laughing she suffered. “THE TIMER WENT OFF YOU JERK!!!!!!,” Myra screamed, her face now a brilliant red and on the cusp of peeing her pants. Bane raised his arms away from her after she started screaming, though the crinkling at the corner of his eyes indicated he was extremely amused and would have perhaps enjoyed teasing her a bit further. He got up from his kneeled position and stared down at her before offering her a hand to help her get up.Myra ignored his extended hand as she got up herself, letting out a huge tired and relieved sigh. She felt her heart pounding from the exertion. Myra sighed one final breath before directing her attention back to Bane. Bane returned her gaze, his posture and expression noting a hint of approval. He ambled closer to her, bringing a hand up to rest on the side of her scalp. “Well done. Perhaps next time we shall try a full minute?” he offered teasingly.Myra couldn’t quite tell if he was being serious or was just poking fun at her, so she grunted a nonverbal response. She tried ignoring the new pounding in her heart that signaled the thrill of receiving praise from Bane paired with the feel of his hand gently stroking her hair. Girl, you’ve got it bad. Bane removed his hand after a few moments to motion towards the utility closet, directing her inside. They didn’t exchange any further words as Myra trudged across the concrete floor to enter the closet, feeling worn out and exhausted. She plopped into one of the fold-out chairs, watching as Bane took a seat across from her so that they could partake in one of the many board games piled on the table. She chose a simple, relaxing game of checkers. As always, Bane won. .
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next day during a new round of self-defense training, Myra felt herself reacting to an increasing awareness that her body had already known but that her mind was slowly catching up to acknowledging and accepting. That she was attracted to Bane. She yearned for his touch. She craved any glance he spared her direction. She thirsted for his words and conversation. She pined for his playful side, not even minding being teased or bested at games as long as it meant he prolonged his stay. Gosh dang it. I’ve got it bad. Real bad. Ugh. The prior night, she had begrudgingly accepted this information like a middle school girl with a fanciful crush. It had started eating away at her cognitive wellbeing, at first not quite knowing why she was mentally struggling with her situation the way she was (aside from…you know…being held hostage). Eventually she isolated and dissected the raw emotions she was feeling, able to discern that the root of her problems lay in the knowledge that the person who kidnapped her was the very same person that she had a profound attraction to. It was horribly uncomfortable. It felt fraudulent. It felt wrong. It felt corrupt. She wasn’t quite sure how to handle the conflict but knew accepting it was the first step towards finding sanity. She knew common sense should dictate that she not be attracted to the person who was technically holding her hostage. She knew it wasn’t right from multiple facets, least of all including ethical, legal, and moral concerns. She knew he was wrong. He wasn’t right. He was a felon. A villain . A monster . She witnessed with her own eyes as he stormed the Gotham Stock Exchange with his men in tow, killing several individuals in the building and stealing God-knows-what before making a getaway with a hostage (...her). She saw him kill his own men. She saw evidence of death and torture around her. Despite witnessing all of this and understanding what he was capable of, how was it still possible to have feelings for him? Because it was the things that he’s done that was the root of her problem. Besides the very obvious ‘bad’, she knew he was capable of empathy, kindness, and understanding. He coddled her in a time and place when no one else was, when she needed it most of all. Her powers of observation also led her to believe his actions towards her were unique to her, and that he wasn’t taking the same care with anyone else. In fact, it was quite the opposite, based on the sporadic deaths she was witness to. In short, he was going out of his way to protect and comfort her. It made her feel unique. Special, even. A feeling she hadn’t felt in quite a long time, and she knew it was only human to want to gravitate towards that feeling. She concluded that her feelings obeyed no logic. She had no control over them. If she could, she would bottle them up and throw them down the toilet. She didn’t want them. She would give anything to get rid of her feelings so that she didn’t have to inhabit this uncomfortable ‘gray’ area. It is so much easier to understand when things are just black and white. She had been up half the night pondering this new reality. She spent the other half fidgeting, getting up earlier than normal and settling in the embarrassment of attempting to comb her hair out with a bit more care than usual, trying to be more presentable than her circumstances would allow. She had no mirror. If she did have access to a mirror, she probably would have been more concerned about the deep purplish circles under her eyes that have been prevalent on her face for some time but have only been exacerbated lately due to poor sleep, mental conflict, and lack of sunlight. Needless to say, she had no idea if her hair was a complete frizzle rat’s nest. She tried using a water bottle to smooth out any stray hairs, but ultimately felt ridiculous over the attempt knowing she was just going to get sweaty and unkept later when Bane came to retrieve her for defense training. He has seen me unwashed for weeks before. Why am I trying so hard to make myself presentable now? UGH! Get a grip already. She had been practically vibrating with anxiousness when he had finally opened the door to the closet, eyeing her as she sprang up. She used a hand to pat her hair down one final time, inching past him as he held the door open. She didn’t recall what she said when she first saw him open the door to let her out, but whatever it was, it had only received an inquisitive look from Bane with no verbal reply. Also, the more she tried to not think about her feelings, the more obvious and apparent they were. Like right now, she couldn’t help but fixate on questioning where it all started. Perhaps after he saved her from the men who tried to assault her in the closet? Or perhaps after he started opening up to her and she spent more time with him, realizing how truly brilliant and intelligent he was? His capacity to be gentle, caring, and kind as the situation called for it? He was witty and charming when he wanted to be. The range of emotion he was able to express with his eyes alone was alluring. And his eyes… It was maddening to know that someone was capable of being so physically superior and magnificent while also possessing a genius-like intellect. A rush of blood pooled to her head and face, momentarily causing her ears to ring and feel numb. Stop THINKING about it! My GOD. “Are you listening?” Bane asked suddenly, pulling Myra out of her mental mayhem. Myra felt herself jerk, feeling immediately awkward, knowing the entirety of Bane’s attention was on her and her lack of focus. She even had the misfortune of blushing further, her entire face now fully blanketed in tomato red when Bane moved up behind her and settled both of his hands on her waist to guide her into a specific defensive stance."Are you paying attention?" Bane asked again when Myra didn’t respond, her face conveying that she was still recovering from being called out the way she was. Myra's eyes widened as if caught red handed, or in this instance – tomato faced , nodding furiously to indicate that she had been listening. Of course, she hadn't been. She tried to force her focus to his hands on her hips, but quickly realized that wasn’t going to alleviate the red color on her cheeks. Bane narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, letting out an irritated grunt."Then what did I say?" he asked, challenging her for an answer.Myra stared straight forward, her hands clenching into a fist, not wanting to admit to him that she hadn't been listening because she had been thinking about…him. And FEELINGS. "…to stay on my lips? I MEAN TOES! To stay on my toes!" Myra stammered out. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. IDIOT. Bane didn't respond right away. This thoroughly unsettled Myra since he was directly behind her and holding her at the waist. Myra couldn’t ignore the disadvantaged position she was in.Ignoring Bane's instruction was behavior that was uncharacteristic of Myra, who had been an apt pupil up to this point. Sure, she had her failings physically, but she never failed to listen to his instruction as it pertained to defensive training.Bane waited a few more moments before using the grip he had on her waist to slowly turn her around to face him, looking down at her beat red face."Are you ill? Your face is red," Bane remarked, his eyes scanning her features for signs of illness with mild concern. He brought a hand up to wipe away several stray hairs from her forehead before placing his giant palm there, gauging her temperature casually as his eyes continued to scan for whatever ailment she might have. Myra only stared at him, her eyes as large as saucers as he worked to find a prognosis for her complexion and attitude."Yes," she finally managed to spit out after an uncomfortable amount of silence had stretched following his question. She snatched up the opportunity for a less humiliating excuse for why she may not have been actively listening to his instruction. He brushed his hand up over her forehead and back over her scalp to gently smooth out her slightly wettened hair following his physical examination, clearly not finding any issue with her temperature. He eyed her attempts at taming her hair with water before returning his attention to her. Based on the inquisitive curve of his brow and the subtle teasing glint in his eye, Myra knew he may be skeptical over her claims of illness. He gave a gentle snort audible through his mask before releasing the grip he had on her waist, stepping away from her and raising a hand flippantly to dismiss her."Very well. We'll continue this tomorrow when you are no longer ill," Bane said with mild condescension.Myra released a breath, feeling as if she had been holding it for minutes. The tone he used when saying 'ill' was not missed by Myra, who started to wonder if he suspected what may have caused her inflamed complexion. That notion, of course, brought a new spread of red across her face as she turned away. She quickly brought her hands up to cover her cheeks as she dashed back to the closet room.
Red red red red REDDDDD. My face BURNS. AHHHH. EMBARRASSMENTTTTT.
Bane officially had a new point of contact regarding Myra's hostage situation. Following the planned takeover of Wayne Enterprises by Tahlia, John Daggett, of course, was less than pleased. This ultimately led to an altercation between him and Bane. The encounter ended with John Daggett's neck being snapped and his body tossed into the river. John Daggett’s Executive Vice President Phillip Stryver now assumed leadership and control of Daggett Industries. This also had the implications that Phillip Stryver would resume the work that John Daggett had conducted concerning pushing the police towards a hostage exchange between two of Bane's men for Myra.Leading up to John Daggett's death, Bane had found himself easing the pressure on Daggett concerning driving the police towards a quick resolution. Under normal circumstances, John Daggett’s neck would have been snapped weeks ago. This would mostly be due to his inability to perform the simple task that Bane had bestowed upon him paired with the increasing frustration associated with dealing with the man personally. The straw that broke the camels back inevitably wasn’t his failure with coordinating the hostage exchange, but rather, John Daggett overstepping himself with veiled threats and insinuations of disruption of Bane’s plans concerning Gotham. Bane already had Daggett’s money and resources. If anything, the fact that Daggett did take so long negotiating the hostage situation perhaps prolonged his lifeline. This was due to the fact that Bane had slowly found himself in the unfortunate and uncomfortable position of personally enjoying the company of his hostage. This led to him being not particularly concerned to see her returned as timely as initially hoped.Unfortunately, Phillip Stryver wasn’t John Daggett. Phillip Stryver was intimately familiar with hierarchy from a corporate, social, and criminal level. Phillip Stryver was anxious to please Bane. Perhaps this fact alone had instilled the initial distaste Bane had for Phillip Stryver since Bane knew that Stryver would quickly succeed where John Daggett did not. In a rare occurrence, Bane found himself disliking a man for his competence due to the implications it had towards a timely resolution concerning Myra and her situation as a hostage. Phillip Stryver was also keen to update Bane on any information he had from the police. Sometimes it was information that Bane had already known, and sometimes it was new information. Regardless, Bane felt a slow rise of irritation during these phone calls. One such phone call took place as Bane approached the kitchen cafeteria area where Myra was, whose objective was to help an overwhelmed Arif with dishes. Arif had specifically requested Myra’s assistance earlier that morning, and Bane obliged by retrieving her from the utility closet. Myra, of course, was obliged to help. With the customary blindfold in place, he had led her from the parking garage utility closet, down the manhole, through the underground tunnel system, and then to the kitchen to perform chores until Arif was satisfied. Bane stood back an appropriate amount of distance so that he could not be overheard. Stryver informed Bane that the police had been keeping his men as long as they could so that they could extract information from them. This was news Bane already knew from John Daggett. Additionally, he knew his men were not going to talk. "They will fail, if that is indeed their intent," Bane responded irritably, his eyes scanning the kitchen idly as he did so, noticing that Arif was uncharacteristically silent and absent. This left Myra alone and quiet to perform her chores with her head down. Stryver continued on."Well…depending on what kind of techniques the police use, maybe one of them will talk…?" he asked.Bane cut him off immediately."No. They would die first before talking,” he said with absolute certainty. Stryver was silent before replying. "You couldn't have picked a lousier hostage. She's a dud. She doesn’t have any friends, family or even co-workers who are willing to come forward to plead her case to the news or police. It would have helped significantly towards swaying the police with external public pressure. She’s not even in the news anymore. She was also only an intern, and she was new . We don’t technically even know her. It doesn't seem sincere for us to even be the primary champions for release of a glorified coffee mule at this point," Stryver snide, clearly irritated with the situation. When Phillip Stryver said this, Bane's eyes slowly turned towards Myra, who had her back towards him. Perhaps sensing a pair of eyes on her, she lowered her soapy hands in the sink to look around inquisitively before rotating her body towards Bane’s direction. Upon seeing him with his attention fixated at her, she instinctively smiled, albeit shyly. She then lifted a soapy hand to wave at him before quickly lowering it as water and suds flicked around her. Embarrassed, she quickly turned back around to the task at hand. Why do you do idiot things, smiling at him like that. "We'll speak more of this later," Bane said before hanging up and making his way to Myra.Myra lifted her head upon hearing Bane, stopping mid-swipe as Bane settled next to her at the very large metal sink. “Care for some assistance?” Bane asked politely before taking one of the dirty plates from the unruly stack of dishes in the sink. He then began to rinse and clean it with one of the available soapy sponges. Myra didn’t respond but stood silent and still as she watched him clean the plate. Their arms were practically touching due to their proximity and the limited space in front of the sink. Despite this, Myra returned to her own dishes, absolutely beaming , and feeling giddy and at-ease in their comfortable silence. That late afternoon during the scheduled self-defense practice in the underground parking garage, Bane appeared to be in a particular mood. It was clear to Myra that Bane enjoyed testing people and their limits, and perhaps that was his objective that very evening. What he was testing or looking for wasn’t immediately apparent to her until a light shade of pink bloomed over her cheeks as Bane placed one hand over the side of her hip to adjust her stance. He had been facing her, so there was no hiding the state of her complexion from him at this angle. "What do we have here?" he asked teasingly, his eyes immediately fixating on her fluctuating complexion. His words had initially confused her, but quickly transitioned to alarm when she realized where his attention was focused. She decided to feign ignorance. "What?" she asked dumbly, her eyes widening.Bane brought a hand up to gently swipe the pad of his thumb across one of her cheeks as if he were trying to reveal tangible evidence to her condition. "This redness," he replied with mild amusement, gently rubbing his fingers together as if he could feel evidence of the redness between the pads of his fingertips. Myra balked, feeling speechless for several seconds before finding her voice. "I must still be ill,” she said, knowing that feigning illness had worked the day prior. Bane’s hand fell back down to settle on her hip comfortably. His eyebrows rose as he tilted his chin back just slightly to gaze down at her from over the mouthpiece of his mask as if he were appraising her."No….No, I don't think that's correct," he said provokingly.Myra’s eyes immediately began wandering around the room in hopes of deflecting some of his scrutiny. She tried settling on anything and everything but him, but found it difficult due to Bane standing directly in front of her and taking up most of her field of vision. Bane grew immediately tired of her aimless eye wandering and ended it by bringing a hand up to cusp her chin, turning her head to face him properly. This, of course, had the unfortunate effect of deepening the shade of pigment that littered Myra’s cheeks. "Look at me," he ordered firmly, but gently.Myra’s eyes wandered several more moments before they eventually meandered to settle on his eyes bashfully. Bane looked down at her as if he were analyzing her for a secret plague, turning her chin this way and that before angling it back to face him, maintaining his hold on her chin. "Curious," was his only reply.Myra's eyes widened at his comment. The look on his face also hinted at possibly spotting some sort of cancer or alien creature on her face. Fear swelled in her chest."What is?" she asked hurriedly, forgetting that the root cause of the situation was her denial towards her feelings. Bane finished his exam with one last sweep of his eyes over her face before replying once more."I do believe…you are blushing ," he started to say with mild caution before quickly transitioning to merciless tease, his tongue doing a strange and slow curling lilt with the word ‘blushing’, emphasizing every letter and syllable.
He knows.
Myra gasped, using her hands to push against his chest and propel away from him. Feeling mildly scandalized and exposed, she couldn’t help but wonder why he chose now to point out her blushing fits when she knew he must have observed it multiple times prior. " Stop! " she shouted, her brows furrowing over her eyes as she squared up to him as if she really meant to punch him, feeling the need to be defensive in this sudden rush of vulnerability. Instead of physically assailing him, she decided the next best course of action would be to increase the amount of space between her and him. She knew close proximity to him was the primary cause for her ‘condition’. She managed to make it several steps backwards before she saw his hand snatch out and grab hold of hers so quickly, she had no time to react, forcing her to stop. She then felt a strong tug that propelled her closer to him. Myra tried digging her heels into the floor below, but it was futile considering his brute strength. One of Bane’s hands resettled on her hip once she was close enough, holding her still. The other hand that held hers maintained its grip. She then felt his fingers transition their hold to gently lace themselves between hers, his large thumb engulfing hers. He looked down at her, noting her angered expression, which of course only served to amuse him. "No need to be angry," he said teasingly as his thumb swept over hers in what she assumed was meant to coax and sooth her away from her fury.Being told 'not to be angry' was, of course, something that made Myra angry. Particularly since she now felt that Bane not only knew why she was blushing, but because she could visibly see that he was amused by the prospect. Since it’s silly and idiotic for someone like him to have feelings for someone like you. Of course he isn’t going to reciprocate. IDIOT. He’s just going to tease and ridicule you from now on! That’s what he DOES. He TORTURES PEOPLE. Why are you so transparent! IDIOT. IDIOT. IDIOT. “Let go of me! You are such a BULLY !” she sneered through gritted teeth, trying to now actively suppress the feeling of shame and embarrassment that swelled in her chest. She tried tugging and reclaiming her hand from his grip, and when her hand broke free it was immediately recaptured again by him as if he were toying with her like a cat toyed with a mouse. The blushing redness in her face was replaced with the flush of anger. "Ahh, your face appears to be getting even redder!" he barked with amusement.Complete embarrassment and frustration overtook her senses, which of course made her irrational. Tears started swelling at the corner of her eyes as she scowled at him, pausing just briefly with her attempts at disengaging with his hand due to exhaustion before going at it again with renewed vigor."I said let GO of me!" she demanded sourly, averting her moistened eyes to the ground as she continued to try and reclaim her hand from his with aggressive tugs. Bane immediately eased his teasing the moment Myra’s expression and demeanor shifted to the uncomfortable shame he now witnessed. The creases that had been present at the corners of his eyes that had indicated a smile or a laugh behind his mask quickly dissolved as he regarded her. His voice dropped into a tone that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and goosebumps populate across her skin."No, I don't think I will," he crooned gently, pulling her close enough now to where he comfortably ensnared her into a loose embrace, his arm settling across the back of her shoulders to draw her closer.Myra froze like a deer in headlines the moment she understood his intention, the tease from his voice still present but significantly subdued and paired with concern. She didn’t fight him as he continued to ease her closer, thankful that their height difference and new proximity hid her face from him as she turned hesitantly to rest her cheek against his chest. She brought a hand up to her eyes in an attempt to erase the frustrated tears that had sprouted at their corners. Bane, however, beat her to it. She felt his free hand come up to first rest against her cheek before feeling his thumb glide and nestle at the corner of her eyes to capture the moisture that had settled there. Myra couldn’t help but stand rigidly, her body tense, unsure if his intent was to dive back into snide remarks and incessant teasing. Bane immediately picked up on her wooden stance, rubbing his palm across her back in a gentle and reassuring manner. "Shh…I'm done teasing," he said soothingly, a hint of regret in his tone as he adjusted his arm more firmly around her shoulders, his mask lowering to rest gently against the top of her head.Myra sighed in relief, feeling herself suddenly relaxing at the sincerity she heard in his tone. She brought her arms up to hesitantly wrap around his middle, grabbing hold of the fabric at his back as a means of grounding herself against him and reality. Not soon after she closed her eyes. She felt her senses were already overwhelmed and stimulated and wanted nothing more than to focus on the comfortable heat that radiated off of his chest and into her skin. “Why did you have to tease me like that?” she murmured irritably after several long moments of silence.Bane didn’t answer right away, instead opting to continue his gentle ministrations with his hands against her back and scalp. “I apologize…truly. It’s unfortunately in my nature,” he lamented with a mixture of chagrin, resignation, and self-deprecating humor. “Forgive me for my obvious follies?” he asked with hopeful earnestness, using one of his hands to casually glide over her ear and through her hair in a soothing manner. Myra let out a loud sigh, suddenly irritated to know that she would forgive him for anything if they were all like that apology. Even killing someone? Hurting someone? Being a criminal and a felon? For…kidnapping me? “Fine,” she muttered out begrudgingly after several moments of pondering his apology and her own failings. The tension in her face eased up considerably as she adjusted her head against his chest for optimal comfort. Before, she simply felt bullied. Now, she felt bullied into happiness. Her response must have pleased Bane, for the arm that lay across her shoulders and back constricted gently, pulling her in even closer. Myra didn’t fight it, instead letting her body relax and partially go limp so that she could mold into him completely. She tightened her own hold around his middle, using her fingers to fidget and draw shapes on his back. She focused on the sensation of the feeling of his fingers gliding from her temple to the back of her head in a slow, repetitive motion. Myra had settled into an entirely relaxed state. The inward and outward movement of his chest against her head paired with the soothing sound of the air emitting from his mask was practically hypnotizing. So hypnotizing, in fact, that she startled considerably when she heard a voice from behind. “Something you need to see,” Barsad said quietly, though to Myra it sounded like he was shouting due to the quiet ambiance he suddenly intruded upon. Myra was immediately in the throes of ferociously trying to disengage from Bane the moment she realized they had a visitor. Bane, however, appeared passive and unconcerned by Barsad’s arrival and instead seemed confused and alarmed by Myra’s sudden need to distance herself from him physically. Bane's hold over her shoulders had tightened reflexively when he sensed she was about to take flight, her head already maneuvered out and under from the hand that was interwoven in her hair, leaving a big patch of tangled mess at the back of her head. Bane didn't immediately acknowledge Barsad, but instead was still focused on Myra and her feverish attempts at removing herself from his hold. He finally released his arms from around her after seeing her struggle for several moments. His release of her was so abrupt that it almost caused her to stumble and fall on her bottom. She did lurch clumsily but righted herself almost immediately, her eyes wide as she turned to Barsad looking quite scandalized.Barsad, like Bane, was eyeing her curiously, though with considerably less concern and alarm. One of his eyebrows quirked up briefly before it settled back in place. The threat of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips though being Barsad with his strict facial discipline, never being the one to convey what was on his mind through his features, that threat was never realized. Myra quickly turned on her heel and stalked past Bane without so much as a glance, practically sprinting the last few meters into her closet room. She shut the door behind her with a very large metallic ‘thud’, hoping the physical barrier would keep the rush of embarrassment from chasing and overwhelming her. The large metal door was no match to the emotional tsunami that pummeled Myra soon after. Several hours later, Phillip Stryver called Bane. The inflection in his voice and the note of panic was obvious to Bane as soon as he answered the phone."The police have men on their way right now to the location of the video you released of the hostage girl. They figured out where it was based on some nondescript cement building pattern on the wall…or some fucking thing, I don't know," Stryver said hurriedly. "I hope it's nowhere important."Bane hung up without even acknowledging or saying another word to Stryver. Not even taking the time to check the security cameras, he was immediately storming towards the exit of the water outflow system base to the underground parking garage where Myra was kept. He was enraged. Enraged that the police were so fool hearty as to attempt to extract a hostage. He was enraged that he had been so foolish as to capture a video with enough visual evidence displayed for the police to identify the exact building in which it was filmed. Bane rarely made tactical mistakes, and when he did, he was most definitely not pleased. Most of all, he was enraged at the prospect of Myra being taken away, right from under him. The unfortunate combination of his feelings associated with the knowledge of his rare internal failings from a tactical perspective paired with the bold, brazen behavior displayed by the police and the prospect of Myra being suddenly taken away led him to do irrational things. He didn't bring anyone with him when he stormed out of the underground base, thinking only of attempting to rectify the situation by extracting and removing Myra from the closet room before the police arrived as quickly as possible.When he finally made it to the underground parking garage and stormed his way across the expanse of space that led him to the entrance, he immediately observed that the door to Myra’s utility closet was ajar. His pace quickened, practically barreling through the entryway with the expectation of finding Myra already gone. He calculated poorly. As soon as Bane made it through the door, Bane realized his mistake. As he was barreling through, he uncharacteristically failed to check the corners of the room directly behind him on either side of the door. As soon as he stopped, he felt a pair of pistols at his back."On your knees NOW . Raise your hands! We have permission to shoot on sight, if necessary – don't give us a reason to," an officer behind Bane's back yelled at him. Bane didn’t immediately comply, instead taking the opportunity to scan the small room with remarkable calm as the tension from the two officers at his back permeated the air. He saw another officer across from him in the opposite corner behind Myra’s cot, his weapon also trained on him as he used his body to shield the person behind him against the wall. That person was Myra. She looked terrified, visibly shaking and alarmed at the suddenness of Bane’s entry. Bane finally raised his arms slowly before lowering himself to his knees, resting his hands at the back of his head comfortably.Myra had apparently been just as surprised at the arrival of Bane as the officers were. Her initial surprise and shock, however, had been interpreted by the officers as fear and terror. Myra did feel her emotions quickly transition to actual fear, however, as she observed the vulnerable position that Bane suddenly put himself in by kneeling on the floor with three pistols aimed directly at him. She continued to watch as he turned his head slightly to make direct eye contact with her. His brows were furrowed in apparent annoyance, perhaps due to the unfortunate predicament he found himself in. She did see, however, relief wash over his face as he continued to eye her. That look made her go rigid as her heart stopped and her breath caught. Why does he look relieved? Her heart started beating irregularly. It’s because you aren't gone yet, you idiot. She swallowed, shifting her eyes to the officer directly in front of her who seemed to be under the impression that he was ‘protecting’ her from Bane. She then shifted her focus back to Bane, his eyes still locked onto her as if she were the only thing that existed or truly mattered in that room. The sound of Myra’s breath catching and going still did not ease the officer’s interpretation of the situation. In fact, it did the exact opposite: they immediately adjusted their hold on their weapons, their faces hardening, their teeth grinding as they sneered at Bane. The only logical, uninformed interpretation of Myra’s reaction to seeing Bane was that she had been routinely traumatized and assaulted by the very same man that was kneeling with his hands held behind his head. This, of course, infuriated the officers. "We are ready to extract the hostile target. Waiting for confirmation of clearance and transport, over,” one officer hurriedly shouted into a radio attached to their shoulder. The second officer eyed the first and the third quickly, a look of confusion overtaking his face. “Turn your body cameras off,” he motioned quickly. The other two officers complied readily with a simple flick of a button on the device at their chest.“I thought our ‘unofficial’ orders were to…make the target disappear?” the second officer mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of overstepping a very well-established legal line. "It is. Son of a bitch killed my partner…and look what he’s done to this poor girl. Monster doesn’t deserve to live. I thought we were going to do it when we brought him back to the transport? No matter…I’ll just do it now and say he attacked us…” the third officer in front of Myra continued on as he expressed his own internal thoughts. The other two officers looked considerably uncomfortable at the proposition but neither of them objected, adjusting their holds on their weapons as they waited for the officer in front of Myra to make his move. Myra snapped out of her mental daze to instead focus on the gun that the officer shielding her was holding, which presumably was the one meant to make the killing shot. She snapped her focus back at Bane who, despite hearing the premeditated murder plot to unceremoniously end his life, looked relatively unphased. He had adjusted his kneeled position slightly, however, but his focus towards Myra remained unwavering. Urgency compelled her to bypass all sense and logic. Before Myra had time to truly contemplate the ramifications and scope of the actions she was about to take, she lurched forward. She ducked underneath the police officer's arms, pushing his gun up and away from Bane's direct line of sight, causing the gun to go off up into the ceiling. This distraction led the other two officers to snap their focus away from Bane and onto her, which was all the distraction that Bane needed.Bane sprung from his kneeled position, spinning around with a giant monstrous sweep of the arm, punching the first officer in the throat while using his other hand to grab the officer's face and smash it into the wall like melted putty. The officer that had been directly in front of Myra swung at her with the handle of his pistol while pushing her back against the wall. She felt blood gush from her nose as she slammed into the wall, lost her footing, and stumbled down onto the floor. The officer spun around just in time to see a giant mass consume his vision, a hand squeezing his skull tightly before unceremoniously being ground into the concrete wall next to Myra with a sickening crunch.Myra stayed on the ground in complete shock at the carnage piling around her. She didn't have the advantage of bringing her hands up to cover her face to block out the nightmarish images like she had when Bane’s men were similarly discarded. Instead she found herself utterly transfixed while navigating the state of pure shock.She was suddenly nauseous. She lurched to the side as she unloaded the contents of her stomach. After thoroughly dispelling her stomach, she brought her knees up to her chest. She began to shake, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to block the images as she began wiping at her nose furiously to clean up the blood that was pooling down over her lip. They were trying to protect me…they came here to rescue me. You killed them. They were innocent police officers just doing their job. They had families. They didn't deserve this. YOU are a monster. YOU. YOU. YOU. Bane, in the meantime, moved towards her and bent down, ignoring her vomit and her obvious state of shock as he used his hand to gently assist with cleaning and plugging her bloody nose. Following a quick inspection to insure that it wasn’t broken, he grabbed her arm and hauled her up into a standing position. Myra's state of shock caused her to stumble and fall to the side immediately, though Bane's firm grip on her arm prevented her from falling to the ground. Readjusting his grip on her arm, Bane was out the door in a hurry, practically dragging Myra in tow. She continued to stumble and struggle with the simple act of walking, the scraping and shuffling of her feet heard periodically as her feet bent at awkward angles and dragged before righting themselves. Bane resolved this quickly when he bent his body around hers to bring her closer, lurching forward to scoop her up into a firm hold. Instead of having a calming effect at no longer being dragged, her heart immediately began to putter. Her eyes became transfixed with his mask, mere inches from her own face. She wrapped her arms around his neck for balance as thoughts of her actions, consequences, and sheer magnitude of what she did swarmed her head. She was now responsible for the deaths of three good men. And for what? For someone that…that kidnapped me. Held me hostage. Held me… Myra’s train of thought was disrupted when Bane suddenly huffed a breath through his mask, readjusting her in his arms, and hurrying his pace. His eyebrows then furrowed as his eyes regained their steely focus while they scanned their periphery with the intent of detecting any additional threats. It was obvious his primary mission at that moment was to safely relocate Myra as quickly as possible with no further interruptions or complications. Myra, for her part, was in such shock that she didn’t even realize that they were already in the underground, in Arif’s kitchen no less, until Bane released his hold on her to gently place her in a chair. She had no time to ponder how the heck he was able to carry her down the vertical ladder of the manhole before both Arif and Bane consumed her senses through their physical inspection and ministrations. Arif was practically clucking like an angry hen, visibly annoyed and upset over Myra’s bloody nose. After a few short words with Bane, he immediately went to retrieve medical supplies. Bane knelt in front of Myra, using his hand at her chin to turn her head this way and that to further verify that her nose hadn’t sustained any serious injury. He had also by this time brought his hand up, using the large pad of his thumb to gently plug her nose and ebb the flow of blood down her face. Myra blinked a few times, regaining clarity and focus to stare down at him as she watched his brows furrowed further and further, practically squishing the vertical metal piece that ran over his nose. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly snapped it shut once she realized she didn’t know what to say. She was quite sure that whatever she said would immediately compel her to tears. This thought, of course, inspired a generous sheen of moisture to coat her eyeballs. This, in turn, made it very difficult for her to focus on Bane as he worked on clearing blood and debris from Myra’s face with the supplies that Arif had returned with. This ultimately was the thing that made her start bawling. Bane continued to work, opting to disregard her emotional display and instead focusing on finishing the task of treating her nose as quickly as possible. Once that task was completed, he wasted no time to hoist her back up into his arms. Myra was sure they were quite the spectacle as Bane marched a steady pace back to his room. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot, beelining towards his cot against the wall, unchanged in location since Myra had inhabited it. He deposited her gently over the covers, taking care to adjust her head so not to agitate her injured nose. He then wasted no time retrieving a bottle of water, kneeling down next to her to hand her the opened bottle. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, eying her as her sobs had receded into gentle spasms that rocked her chest. She did as ordered, thinking that perhaps he felt the unnecessary need to help her drink water, but instead he deposited a tablet into her mouth. “Drink. This will help you sleep,” he stated, holding the bottle near her lips.Myra took the bottle from him, eying him with mild concern and suspicion over the sensation of having someone shove a foreign pill into her mouth, but ultimately took a sip to wash the pill down. He took the bottle from her when she was finished and put the cap back on, setting it down next to the cot for easy access. Myra’s mind was a cacophony of stimulation and sensory overload. She felt like she was going to explode from the reality of it all. She turned her head towards him and watched as he adjusted himself comfortably on the floor by her cot, bringing a hand to sweep back the stray hairs that littered her forehead and cheeks. He used his other hand to grab hold of her wrist in a gentle hold, sweeping his large thumb back and forth over her skin. Despite his overtly casual exterior, Myra couldn’t help but notice a hint of tension and strain in his movements and gaze. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting from him at this point. Perhaps some sort of words of comfort or encouragement, or even maybe discouragement. What she really wanted was to be fully held, she realized. To have him embrace her like he had several times before, knowing that every time he did so, everything seemed right soon after. She didn’t know what was holding her back from making the request, however. It was suspenseful, painful even, watching and waiting as he continued to glide his hand over the top of her forehead back through her hair. She concluded that she was very likely not going to receive an embrace from him purely based on the time that had passed by as well as the tension that radiated off of him. It worried her. The worry and tension only lasted for several more moments, however, because before long Myra was passed out. Bane, of course, was furious. It had taken an immense amount of self-control and discipline for him not to display any of his frustrations to Myra over the situation with the police infiltrating the underground parking garage to steal her back. He wasn’t just furious at the audacity of the police trying to bypass any negotiations and possibly put Myra in harm’s way, but he was also furious with himself for the tactical blunder that inevitably allowed them to locate where Myra was being held. Under normal circumstances, given how the situation played out, his initial reaction would have been to immediately kill the hostage in retaliation. Perhaps, even, delivering a severed hostage head to their doorstep in a very public display of consequences for the folly of the police’s actions. He then would have simply retrieved his captured men through brute force or by breaking open Blackgate Penitentiary. The circumstances weren’t normal, however.His hostage was Myra. After permanently relocating her to his room now that the parking garage utility closet had been compromised, Bane had work to do. He immediately endeavored to ensure there was proper coverage at the entrances to the underground reflow base in the event that the police’s boldness intensified. Despite his mind obviously preoccupied with planning, he couldn’t shake off that feeling of intense furor. Regardless of his mood, Myra’s physical and mental wellbeing must have been on some spectrum of Bane’s priorities, however, because he ensured that she was monitored and provided with an ample assortment of food and water once she woke up. Barsad was informed of the events that transpired in the utility closet, of course, including Myra’s participation in diverting the police’s attention. Barsad became the primary person responsible for ensuring that she wasn’t disturbed or intruded upon due to Bane’s immediate absence as he handled logistics. When Myra did eventually wake up, she was instantaneously hit with a tremendous wave of disorientation. It took her a generous amount of time to place her surroundings, which then brought her down the sequential path of how she ended up there. Which, of course, led her to the unfortunate knowledge that she had been responsible for indirectly killing three police officers and perhaps ruined her chances of being set free. It was Barsad who was the first to find her awake. Upon seeing him enter the room, disappointment etched her features. She then proceeded to re-settle her head back onto the pillow while she stared into the void of nothingness. Barsad didn’t say or do anything other than scan the room briefly before closing the door. He would be the one who would come back several hours later to repeat the process. He did that several times throughout the day, and by the 4th time, Myra didn’t even look up to acknowledge him, even if it was food that he brought. He simply set it down on the floor near her cot and left.She wouldn’t see Bane for several days, in fact. Unforeseen circumstances required his direct attention that kept him away from the underground outflow base. This was painfully noted by Myra, who had hoped to at least talk to him about the situation in hopes of easing her troubled mind. Barsad continued to do as asked. By the second day of her being lucid and after each time he had knocked and entered her room, he found her on the cot sleeping and unmoving. He made sure to verify that she was, in fact, only sleeping, and upon his inspection he would then leave the room before returning a few hours later. Upon exiting her room on the evening of the second day, he informed Myra of Bane’s obvious absence and that she would be expected to participate in her routine defense training the following day when Bane returned. Myra made no indicator that she heard him as he closed the door behind him, but inside she was reeling. Why has he been avoiding me? Does he think I’m a monster now? Is he planning to dispose of me? Am I worthless now, since there hasn’t been anything to show for releasing his two men except for three dead police officers and a useless girl? Did I make a horrible mistake? The following day, Bane had returned by the afternoon with mild rage still lingering in his gut. He completed the objective he had set out to do, but the situation with the police and Myra had festered in him like an infection. By the time that Barsad briefly updated him on Myra’s well-being, he only provided hollow grunts through his mask to confirm that he received Barsad’s update. He wasn’t particularly pleased knowing that Myra had essentially been rotting in bed for the past two days. Bane didn’t immediately check-in on Myra, knowing anger would fuel his words. Instead, he ensured everything was in order from his men and nothing needed his attention before making his way to the training area. He performed some personal training in hopes of releasing the infuriating anger and tension that had built up in his chest, but the exercise did little to quell his mood. Knowing that Barsad had informed Myra of the expectation that she attend defense training that day, he decided to wait for her arrival. When Myra inevitably failed to show up on time for training, he immediately stormed to her room, sweaty and agitated. He entered without knocking or announcing himself, his eyes blazing as he searched the room before they settled on the bed. A blanket fully covered Myra, but Bane knew the large lump on the bed was her when he spied the delicate hand that snuck out from under the covers to tug the material more fully over her head and body. "You're late," he barked unsympathetically, inching his way closer to the cot. Myra shuffled slowly under the covers, her body visibly rotating to face the wall. "I'm not feeling well," Myra muffled softly, barely audible.While Bane had humored her previously when she used a similar excuse to avoid discussing her blushing fits, it would soon be obvious to her that he had no intention of doing so today. Perhaps it was his desire not to see Myra degrade both mentally and physically before his very eyes, or perhaps it was simply because he woke up with lingering agitation. The only thing that would soon be clear, however, was that Bane now deemed a ‘tough love’ approach to be necessary as it concerned Myra, even if she may strongly disagree. "That excuse again?" Bane said, irritation coating his words. With his patience obviously spent, he bent down to snatch the blanket that she was clutching at and yanked it up and away from her with a vicious tug. He threw the blanket into the corner of the room, glaring down at Myra once that task was complete. Myra, for her part, had been lying in a fetal position, wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. When the blanket was fully pulled away from her, she shrunk deeper into a fetal position. She made no indicator that she had intentions of getting up to get dressed for her training. This, of course, further fueled Bane’s fury. "If you aren't up in 5 seconds…you'll regret it, I can promise you," Bane threatened with no indication of humor.Myra's eyes had been open during this whole ordeal, and of course they grew larger upon hearing the very obvious threat laced in his tone. He was also obviously perturbed. Myra had always been a curious woman, and part of her almost wanted to know what would happen after 5 seconds and she wasn't up. She was also keenly aware of her own current fragile, depressed mental state and was perhaps skirting along the fine line of being considered either irrationally bold or lacking a healthy amount of self-preservation. Despite being coaxed to sleep with medication several nights prior and essentially never leaving the bed, she still had deep dark circles under her eyes.Having no intention of getting up and perhaps finding herself also increasingly frustrated towards Bane over his apparent lack of empathy for her, she decided to wait him out. She inwardly counted to five, feeling Bane's eyes drilling into the back of her head as she did so. When her count reached to 10 (she may have been counting a bit too fast to begin with), she heard him move behind her.She felt a pair of large hands grab her roughly, one gripping her upper arm to force her onto her back as the other one reached over her to grip her other upper arm, hoisting her up and out of bed effortlessly."I believe I've been spoiling you too excessively," Bane sneered as if he quite literally dragged her from bed. Once fully hoisted out of bed, he kept her slightly elevated off the floor, the tips of her toes not quite meeting the floor. Too shocked to struggle or fight, all she could do was gawk. Bane gave her a thorough visual look-over, noting the huge dark circles under her eyes and haggard appearance. Following his appraisal, Bane immediately made his way towards the corner of the room that contained the partition for the shower with a confused Myra in hand. He dropped her directly under the shower head, watching as she stumbled on her bottom to the tiled floor below. He then proceeded to turn the shower on, bending down as he did so to place a hand at her shoulder to prevent her from escaping the inevitable spray.Cold water bombarded her, her body and clothing becoming immediately soaked. When she began to struggle with unintelligible words spewing out of her mouth, he reinforced the hold he had on her shoulder so that she was forced to endure the discomfort. A good solid minute went by before Bane eventually turned the shower off, watching as she sputtered and began to frantically wipe water from her eyes and face. "There. That should help with your illness," Bane jeered, finally removing his hand from her wet shoulder. Myra spat water at him as he bent away. She then brought her knees and arms up to cover her chest, obviously soaked and most definitely cold, chilly, and immodest. The glare she gave as she looked up at him from the tiled floor would give any normal man chills, but it only brought Bane wry amusement.Bane took a generous step away from her in an invitation to let her pass back into the main room. She sprang at the opportunity, lifting herself up clumsily from the floor and marching past him with her posture slightly hunched. When she got to the center of the bedroom, she circled it for several moments before turning back to him, her teeth chattering as she pointed a rigid finger to the exit. "Get… OUT!!! …" she stammered, a pool of water forming at her feet as water continued to drip from her clothes and body. Bane's eyes crinkled in pleasure as he sauntered past her towards the door before turning back to address her.“You have five minutes to prepare yourself for training. I’ll be even less lenient the second time you decide to pull one of your tricks,” Bane said as he eyed her up and down suspiciously before finally making his way out the door. Myra only glared at him irritably as he left, not acknowledging his threat but instead moved forward to slam the door after him for good measure. Myra stripped off her wet clothes immediately, draping them over the partition of the shower in hopes that they would dry relatively soon due to the lack of apparel options afforded her. She grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and began vigorously drying herself off. She wrapped the towel around her body while moving to the pedestal sink and the mirror to aid in the process of drying her hair. It had been quite some time since she had been afforded a mirror and bothered to look into it. Upon seeing her reflection paired with her pale complexion and dark circles under her eyes, she froze. Her eyes grew wide as she leaned forward, delicately probing at the darkness under each eye, wishing and hoping they would go away along with the anxieties that nestled in her head. She wasn’t sure how long she had been staring at the mirror, but when she heard the door begin to open, she leaned away from the mirror and turned her head towards the intruder in alarm. Bane looked at her as if he wasn't seeing a half-naked wet woman in his room. Instead, he radiated anger. "I instructed you to be ready in 5 minutes, and 5 minutes have come and gone. Do you need a lesson in punctuality, as well?" he said threateningly.Myra began to fidget with the towel that was wrapped around her body, looking down to make sure that it covered the appropriate areas. She felt one slight tug upwards to cover her breasts only meant less surface area of her thighs and crotch, which of course led into a vicious cycle of tugging the towel up and down. She was looking down as she continued this awkward display before a wave of boldness washed over her. "I dare you to try," she said before she could stop herself, finding herself fully irritated and settling on matching his energy. Once the words were out of her lips, there was no turning back. She held her ground, though, by elevating her chin slightly while she turned to give him a nonchalant glare. How she was feeling on the inside, however, was a different story. Bane regarded her comment silently for several moments before he made the move to fully enter the room. He closed the door behind him with excruciating slowness as if her last chance of survival lay in escaping through that very door. He then stalked towards her; his steps deliberately loud before he stopped in front of her to shift his weight dramatically from one foot to the other before crossing his large arms over his broad chest. "Oh?" he said with malicious curiosity, his eyes scanning over her features before settling on her reddening cheeks. "It doesn't appear that the cold shower did the trick."Myra knew he was making a double innuendo at both the fact that she was being mildly insubordinate as well as the fact that her face was now fully flushed. The prospect of being half-naked in front of him was murder to her complexion. Her eyes settled on him as he regarded her. Bane's breathing was amplified through his mask as he continued to analyze her. Myra managed to maintain her eye contact for several seconds before they faltered terribly. Her face quickly contorted as tears threatened to erupt from the corner of her eyes. She tightened the hold she had around the towel as whatever semblance of control she had suddenly evaporated. “Hold me,” she finally whispered with a hint of desperation, feeling like her legs would give out any moment if she had to endure his scrutiny one second longer. Myra wasn’t sure if Bane heard her, for there was a very long pause following her request. Had she looked up, she would have seen a very brief look of shock and concern flash across his features, replacing the stern anger and frustration that had settled there prior. After the brief pause, however, he quickly stepped forward to remove whatever physical distance they had between them. He didn’t hesitate to wrap one of his large arms around the back of her body, pulling her in while he placed his free hand on the back of her wet head to pull her in closely against his chest. Myra immediately melded her face against his chest, closing her eyes tightly as she leaned into him. “Are you mad at me?” Myra asked coyly, feeling suddenly self-conscious and guilty of the anger she witnessed radiating off of him.“Yes,” Bane answered without hesitation, his tone unwavering though a hint of tease now embedded in his voice while he continued to gently caress the back of her scalp. Myra stilled, fear-induced paralysis overtaking her limbs while she remained silent as her eyes grew slightly larger at his reply. Bane, of course, sensed her body going rigid against his. He eased his hand away from her scalp to navigate to one of her hands, pulling it away from her body as he used his thumb to work and gently massage her hand open for him. He then gingerly teased and massaged her fingers between his before cupping his hand around hers in a tender squeeze. “Not so mad that I still don’t immediately bend at the crook of your little finger, hmm?” he asked good naturedly, the hint of tease more apparent in his words. Myra made a face into his chest as a flush of heat sprang into her cheeks. She then relaxed, settling back against his chest. Feeling a sudden wave of comfort that emboldened and empowered her, she continued to voice her concerns and fears, some of which may or may not have been rational. “Am I a bad person? Did those innocent officers have families? Did I ruin my chances of getting out of here? Are you planning on killing me?” Myra practically gushed, the primary worries and concerns that had been at the forefront of her mind rolling out of her mouth. Bane, for his part, maintained his composure as he listened to Myra’s questions. His initial reaction was to softly chuckle at her endearing naivety, but respectfully held back. When the last question left her mouth, he gave her hand one final squeeze. He then relocated his hand to her back where he provided her with a very generous rub between her bare shoulder blades before addressing each of her concerns in order. “Your heart led you to make a choice in a moment of urgency. It is the intention behind those choices we make that defines us. You acted to protect, not to harm, and through your actions, I survived. That doesn’t sound like a ‘bad’ person to me, does it?” Bane asked gently, combing his fingers through her wet hair as he waited for her reaction. Myra didn’t respond, instead remaining silent as she mulled over the possible truth and meaning behind his words. She continued to bury her face into his chest, finding comfort in the heat that always seemed to radiate from his core. Bane knew that Myra did not have full comprehension over his skills as a fighter. In fact, he knew that she very likely assumed he was about to die with three guns drawn on him. He had escaped far more dangerous circumstances, however, without so much as a bruise. He had no intention of letting those police officers out of that room alive, with or without Myra’s help. She just didn’t know that yet. His instinctual concern in the closet hadn’t been whether he was going to live or die, however. He knew he was skilled enough to bypass any threats from the police officers. What he didn’t know was whether Myra would also be injured during the fight, which had led him to pause during his initial confrontation. He was in the difficult position of determining whether he should divulge this information to her at all, which could invariably cause her to possibly fear and reject him as well as make her feel as if she sacrificed her morals needlessly in an attempt at saving someone who inevitably didn’t need saving. He opted for silence, disregarding whether it was selfish to do so. “The officers were performing their duties. They knew the risks to their job, as did their families. Also, those particular officers weren’t ‘innocent’. They were operating outside the legal boundaries of the law in an attempt to be a jury, judge, and executioner. As civil servants, it is not in their power to decide whether they can kill on site, particularly since I displayed no overt threat to them. They very likely were corrupt, serving under a corrupt unit,” Bane continued, clearly making an attempt at easing whatever worries tormented Myra. Myra continued to remain silent as she processed his words. “I also have no intention of keeping you here if we do not come to an arrangement with the hostage exchange. You will be released back into society, regardless of the outcome. We will find out soon enough when and how you will be released, unharmed, ” he finished, giving her one gentle rub at her shoulders.His words, of course, had a profound effect on Myra. Not only did it ease her mind considerably, but she could also feel herself finally relaxing after days of uncomfortable tension. She felt the strain slowly ease from her joints, letting out an audible sigh at the sensation of it. How is he capable of making me feel so good? How does he do it? Like I’m the center of the universe? Bane continued to apply gentle ministrations to the bare skin along her bare upper back and shoulders, waiting for some form of verbal response from Myra. After several long moments of her appearing to simply bask in the heat that radiated from his chest with no indicator that she was going to respond, he decided to apply gentle pressure for one. “Satisfied?” he said lightly, humor clearly embedded in his tone.There was no hesitation in the response Myra provided. “No,” Myra said instinctively, shocked by her own truthfulness in finding that she very much wanted more from him. Bane stood still in a relaxed posture, patiently waiting for further verbal clarification from her. She buried her head once more fully into his chest, curling her fingers into fists around the shirt fabric covering his torso. She took several deep breaths, both in an attempt to calm herself and also to rally up courage for what she was about to do next. Bane wouldn’t receive any verbal direction from her, but she was hoping her actions would speak for themselves. With one final generous breath through her lips, she used one of her hands to tug at the towel that was providing modest coverage of her midsection. She held her breath as she felt the towel fall to the floor, her spine rigid as she resumed her hold on his shirt material. Naked. She dared not look up at him, rejection now her biggest fear. She continued to hold her breath as she now waited for his response, finding her fingers fidgeting with the textile of his shirt the longer she waited. Bane, for his part, continued to stand still, his hands unmoving against her skin. Seconds went by. By the time a mental minute passed her mind, her cheeks now inflamed with embarrassment, she took a rigid step away from him. Averting her eyes, she quickly bent down to grab the towel that had dropped on the floor. Mumbling incoherent apologies and excuses, she clumsily made haste to reapply the towel around her midsection. She suddenly needed privacy, feeling dejected and deflated. Fumbling with securing the towel, her eyes darted between him and the door clearly as an indicator that she wished for him to exit. “Uh…uhm…eh….,” she managed to mumble out, letting out an awkward laugh in hopes of offsetting the emotional pain that bloomed in her chest. Her eyes were glistening when she finally made eye contact with him, unable to form any words before swallowing back the threat of tears of perceived rejection and insecurity. “I…euh…I’m sorry….” she mumbled out hastily as she frantically waived at the door. “....foolish…..” More mumbling. “....I’m an idiot…..” Even more mumbling. “....a mistake…,” were her last coherent words before she hushed herself to silence. Bane had stood and watched her uncomfortable performance in confusion, his brows furrowed together as she retreated from him and made hasty attempts at reinserting the towel around her body. When she finally stood speechless, diverting her attention between the door and him, was when he stepped forward.Bane’s initial inclination had been to allow Myra to lead their interaction, wanting full clarity on the intent behind her actions. He didn’t particularly care for the prospect of misinterpretation in case her actions had been the result of a genuine, clumsy mistake on her part and she hadn’t intended on dropping the towel. It wasn’t in his nature to take advantage of a physically compromised, vulnerable woman. However, upon witnessing her actions now which could only be characterized as the culmination of an insecure, shy woman who felt rejected, he knew he should have treated the interaction differently. Myra watched as anger flashed across his features as he strode toward the door. She shied away from him as he got closer, though she continued to hold the door aloft to allow for his exit. Instead of exiting, however, he closed the door shut, positioning himself in front of her and caging her in against the wall. “Was it a mistake, truly?” he asked her pointedly, his tone demanding honesty. Myra had angled her head away from him, her brows furrowed together in worry as she mustered up the courage to respond truthfully. A dozen or so seconds passed by before she was eventually able to conjure a response. “No,” she confessed pitifully. Bane brought his hand forward slowly, settling on her hand that was fidgeting at the corner of her towel that held it up. He engulfed her hand with his, easing her hand away from the hold she had on the towel and guiding it to his chest. Upon hearing the towel tumble back to the floor, he lowered his gaze. Myra watched as his eyes roamed over her body appreciatively before bringing them back up to meet hers.Feeling suddenly exposed and compromised, Myra became visibly bashful and awkward. She compulsively curled her body inward in a display of modesty and tried angling her elbows inward to cover herself appropriately. When she moved her hand from his chest in an attempt to further cover herself, Bane wasn't having it."Don't. You're exquisite," he said gruffly, staring straight at her as if nothing else existed in the world.Myra's cheeks flamed at his rare compliment, her eyes gazing back at his before she felt shy again, her eyes faltering and roaming off to the side. Bane eliminated whatever distance there was between them. Bane moved his hand to cup the side of her face, his other hand moving to rest on her bare shoulder before slowly gliding down her arm. The feeling of his fingers against her naked skin left it tingling, her lips parting at the sensation. Bane's eyes darted to the movement of her lips, seeing no indication that she was in distress or uncomfortable. This emboldened him as his hand slid back up her arm, briefly making contact with her shoulder and across her collar bone before falling south down her chest.Myra took a quick intake of breath as she felt a large, warm, calloused hand glide over her breast, his large thumb sweeping over her nipple inquisitively before moving back up to her shoulder to repeat the gesture. Myra's lips opened wider in reaction to the sudden heaviness she was feeling in her lungs. Bane continued to watch her, and after only seeing pleasure dance across her face, he made his move.He reached behind her with both hands suddenly, cupping her bare bottom firmly and lifting her up against him. While coaxing her legs to wrap around his waist, he turned them around and sauntered towards the cot. Myra followed his lead, clutching at the neckline of his shirt for dear life. She even momentarily forgot about her nakedness. Only for a moment, of course.When he got to the cot, he leaned forward and released her, encouraging her to fall back and to softly disengage her legs from his waist so that he could stand back up. Once she did, Myra watched as he stood erect. Myra observed him with aroused interest, his eyes unwavering from hers as he began removing his clothing. The imagery of the intense, almost primal stare he gave her paired with the act of discarding his clothing caused Myra to squirm, feeling warmth gathering and settling between her thighs. Her ears started to ring, her eyes glistening from the emotional intensity and built up frustration of the situation. Her body also instinctively reacted to his lustful stare with a subtle arch of her back and easing of her knees and thighs apart invitingly. Her mind was in too much of a haze to realize or control the impulsive movements her body made. When Bane saw her body visibly react, the fervor in which he shed his clothes intensified. He practically tore them off. He let out a frustrated huff that sounded like a growl through his mask that caused a shiver to travel up her spine. The last piece of clothing he removed was his back brace, which he did with care, followed by his pants, and finally his underwear briefs. Myra’s eyes curiously darted to his briefs once he discarded his pants, already able to see a large bulge straining against the fabric, threatening to tear through. Another shiver ran up her spine as she shyly observed that part of his anatomy, both in anticipation but also with slight trepidation due to his size. Is it possible to be TOO big? Will he even fit? Wait...what the hell am I doing? Is this too sudden? Does this feel rushed? No...it doesn't 'feel' rushed..it feels...Wait, why am I letting him do this? He's…killed people….But- I let people die to protect him…..He's... Myra's thoughts did a mental whiplash back and forth between the justification of right and wrong. She started experiencing the same dangerous levels of curiosity she had felt just moments earlier when she refused to get out of bed at the count of 5. The look he was giving her and the ardent gentleness that he subscribed when handling her did nothing to squash that curiosity. She knew she was in an extremely compromised position both physically and mentally, which could contribute to making irrationally bold decisions. Yet, she didn’t care. If anything, she hadn't felt this sure about anything since… Since when? She knew what was going to happen: she was willingly inviting someone to enter and briefly inhabit her body with their own. Bane. That thought alone indicated that she possessed a significant amount of trust towards that individual. That notion made her squirm. Metaphorical imagery of a person being invitingly asked into a house with a huge 'welcome' mat outside the front door popped into her mind. Stop THINKING so much… Myra's thoughts were wiped clear as Bane finally released himself from the confines of his underwear, letting them drop to the floor. Myra had only a second to glimpse his nakedness before he was hovering over her. He brought his hand to rest palm-down by her head for leverage of his weight while the other hand found its way to her thighs. His hand willed her legs further apart with care, his eyes remaining fixated on hers. She could only return his gaze as she felt her legs blossom open for him, feeling him lean his body forward between her knees to prop them open. Once that task was done, his hand traveled to her inner thigh. He was slow and methodical but also acted with a hint of playful tease as she felt his fingers swirl and meander along the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. She could feel his knuckles just barely graze the sensitive folds between her legs, but he managed to inch away as he continued his taunt. Feeling like she was being tortured and wanting nothing more than for him to touch her fully, she reached up to hold his head between both of her hands. She then gave him an agitated huff, squarely staring at him as her brows furrowed in annoyance. Bane’s response to this was to smile gently, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he relaxed his hand to finally fall to her lower center. With one tender swipe, Myra felt his fingers brush along her womanly folds. His fingers suddenly stilled. “Oh…oh, sweetheart,” Bane whispered suddenly to Myra in a stunning issuance of sincere endearment. Myra knew immediately when she felt the easy glide of his fingers over her sensitive skin that she must have been absolutely dripping with wetness. Finding herself flushed, his appreciative words helped contain the insecurity she suddenly felt over her obvious eagerness. She instead felt herself become euphorically giddy from the pleasure heard in Bane’s voice. Bane eventually repeated the gesture with his fingers several times before probing her more assertively, his fingers eventually locating, lingering, and massaging her slit opening. Myra moved the hold she had on the side of his face to explore his exposed skin, sweeping her hands over his bare neck and shoulders. Myra’s eyes locked on Bane’s as she swept her hands up to place a hand on the exposed portion of his cheek, cupping it lightly. She noted that his eyes had appeared glazed over, perhaps a physical indicator of his approval of her body’s physical reaction to him. She continued to explore his skin with her fingertips, appreciating the velvety smooth texture of it. “Why are you so soft?” she questioned quietly, her thumb sweeping over his cheek before exploring his bare upper body once more. She was in awe over the immense contradiction that was "Bane''; he seemed so at odds with the persona he projected, able to navigate his aggression and gentleness in one hand with unquestionable ease. Bane quirked a smile and gave her a sly look as if he meant to counter her point immediately but was caught between two tasks as he continued his physical ministrations. He was silent for several moments, but he eventually replied to her as one of his large fingers made the initial plunge in her opening. “There’s nothing soft about what I’m about to do to you,” he said playfully, careful as he inserted his finger several inches into her before curling into her inner walls.Myra gasped. The lack of friction undoubtedly elevated the experience for Myra considerably. She also knew his words had very likely induced a new slick of arousal at her entrance. The feeling of his fingers against her, inside of her , caused her toes to curl. She reflexively moved her hands to grip either side of his face as if she needed an anchor to focus her energy on. As his finger began pumping lightly into her, his thumb made its way to her sensitive nub further up her folds. He rubbed it gently in unison with his finger, which continued to curl and uncurl against her inner flesh to stimulate her further. Myra lost her mind. The breath that she inhaled seconds earlier was finally released in a very soft moan, her legs bending and unbending as if they were unsure what to do or how to respond to the intense sexual pleasure induced by Bane. Bane continued to watch her with his brows now furrowed as if in slight concentration. He serviced her for several more moments before dislodging his fingers, seemingly satisfied with the results. Despite it being undoubtedly pleasurable for her, the activities of his fingers served the utility of ensuring she was stimulated enough to receive him without serious injury. Bane wasted no time grabbing his cock with his free hand and guided it to her lubricated entrance. He gently rubbed the swollen head between the creases of her folds several times, a mixture of pre-cum now added to the arousal that was spread across her entrance. He then inserted the head just barely, her folds parting around him with ease. He flexed his hips, thrusting forward into her only a half inch or so before retreating, repeating the process several times with excruciating slowness as he continued to add a small amount of depth with each measured thrust. Myra had been holding his face between both of her hands lightly, one thumb idly tracing the contours of his mask and gazing up at him. She could feel the immediate stretch he induced when he began entering her, disbelieving the sheer size and girth of him. She knew she would undoubtedly bleed if stretched any further. Despite this, her patience quickly thinned and she wanted nothing more than for him to fully seat himself inside her. It was TORTURE. After a handful of his agonizingly slow thrusts, she tried thrusting her own hips upward to meet his to expedite the process. Bane hastily responded by bringing one of his hands down to grip the side of her hip, stopping and holding her down with his weight aggressively. With a flustered look, he gave her a mild glare with furrowed brows as a clear indicator that he demanded patience. Myra responded with a whimper and agitated huff. “...you must relax and be still, or I’ll injure you,” he instructed Myra with what she thought was through clenched teeth in a strained breath, his control clearly being tested. Myra returned his gaze, easing her glare before doing as asked. She made a concerted effort to loosen her muscles and body. He must have felt her compliance, for the tension in his face eased considerably. He continued to gradually increase the depth of his thrusts until he pulled out and stilled for a moment. Adjusting his body just slightly and without warning, he propelled his hips forward with one powerful thrust by dropping his weight down onto her. Myra gasped loudly. She could feel her insides painfully strain from the sudden intrusion despite his precautions. She winced, her fingers constricting against his mask as she endured the monstrous stretch of her insides. Bane was a huge man, everything about him was massive. The body part that found its way inside Myra was proportionate to the rest of him. She felt him push all the way to what felt like her core, the presence of a dull ache deep inside her indicating the head of his cock managed to reach her cervix, unable to proceed further. Bane settled, thankfully, and didn't attempt to remove himself immediately. His eyes roamed her face as the pain in her features eased while her body gradually adapted to accommodate him. Soon a look of bliss and lust overtook her face, her mouth opening as she let out several large breaths. She swept her hand delicately across his forehead, blinking furiously while finding herself speechless from overstimulation. The uncomfortable pressure felt from her insides straining to accommodate an object larger than the available space finally eased. She instinctively flexed her thighs and moved her legs to comfortably wrap around his waist for leverage. Bane breathed a husky groan as Myra adjusted herself, the sheer tightness and grip she had around him intoxicating. Once she settled her legs, he proceeded.“Oh-nn…..” Myra suddenly moaned out, confusion coating her features at the sudden remarkable sensation of him re-entering her toppled with the ease in which he was suddenly able to inhabit her insides. It felt glorious. Bane undoubtedly detected the loosening of muscle and tension around his cock, for he gave out another low, appreciative moan that only further encouraged the tingling Myra felt forming between her legs. He also began increasing his pace due to the notable easing in friction. Bane was practically a machine, steam powered with willpower and grit. His strength, stamina, and intensity were unparalleled to anyone Myra had ever known. The cot they inhabited squealed and screamed from the weight of their bodies, the fabric straining with effort with every thrust Bane delivered.Myra felt fully relaxed, her mind and body fully ceding over to Bane. She soon found the rise of an orgasm forming and on the verge of erupting between her legs. He was grinding into her at just the right angle, pausing at just the right moments, looking at her with just the right hunger in his eyes. It was difficult if not impossible for her to think or focus on anything else. She even made an attempt to stop the orgasm from breaking free so soon, wanting to enjoy this moment with Bane because in that moment she didn't have to think or feel anything else except the look he gifted her and the feel of his body inside of her. There was no stopping it, however. Her back arched convulsively, her mouth opening in a silent scream before a low moan erupted from a deep pocket within her chest. Her lips slowly formed his name, her eyes glazed over as her orgasm fully consumed her. Bane had watched and felt her come beneath him, never ceasing his movements but watching idly and patiently as her body bucked from sheer pleasure. Eventually, her movements stilled and she collapsed back onto the cot. She felt lightheaded and purely wonderful. Her fingers curled around the hardware of his mask as she shut her eyes in hopes of taking back control of her senses, her toes curling and uncurling into the rough wool military blanket underneath her. Still feeling lightheaded, she moved one of her hands to his chest. Bane reciprocated by leveraging all of his weight onto one arm (which was remarkable), and gently took hold of Myra’s. He began massaging her palm with the large pad of his thumb, his eyes focused on her as he continued pumping into her, astoundingly not losing his stride. Myra’s eyes lazily wandered over his features, her mouth agape, wondering how this could feel so goddamn good . Her fingers constricted around his large hand, her head lulling back against the pillow as her body continued to receive him graciously, moisture building up at the corner of her eyes. When Bane finally came inside of her, it was practically an explosion, for nothing Bane ever did was mild. Myra even startled and gasped slightly at the magnitude of it, feeling the intensity of his release funneling its way up deep inside her with astounding force. She even felt some of his cum weeping at her entrance due to the apparent lack of space available to accommodate both the extent of it and him.Bane finally eased his movements, slowing down before releasing a huff through his mask that sounded like a gorilla claiming his territory. Beads of sweat littered his brows and dripped down the sides of his face, a few making the plunge from his skin to fall down onto Myra. A sheen of perspiration coated the rest of his body from sheer exertion. He moved his arms to position on either side of her head to leverage himself up off of her. He looked around the room briefly as if in confusion while he gathered his breath, stars dancing in front of his vision.After what felt like hours, he reluctantly removed himself from inside her after properly catching his breath. His eyes then settled back down on hers.She was absolutely beaming at him. Myra couldn’t tell if he was smiling back, but she did see his eyes lighten considerably and the tell-tale signs of a smile via the crinkling at the corner of his eyes. He eventually dropped his weight down next to Myra’s, gently adjusting her body to partially lay over his due to the limited real estate on the cot. Myra didn’t resist, immediately finding sanctuary in the comfort of his arms and using his chest as the most comfortable pillow she’s had in months. When Bane was fully settled with his arm casually curled around her, he began trailing his fingers up and down her spine lazily. Sounds of relaxed contentment permeated through the grill of his mask. He finally turned his attention back down to an unusually silent Myra. She was completely and utterly passed out.