Round One Prompt Post
Round One Is Currently Closed To New Prompts
Welcome to 'Round One' of The Dark Knight Rises Kink Meme.
This round will close when it reaches three thousand comments and after two weeks, another prompt post will open.
( General Policies )
Welcome to 'Round One' of The Dark Knight Rises Kink Meme.
This round will close when it reaches three thousand comments and after two weeks, another prompt post will open.
( General Policies )
///(((John Blake)))\\\
He wakes to the smell of something musty and a little...burnt. It's baffling, to say the least, but when he hears the gentle hum of a desktop computer's fan working overtime and the sharp staccato of someone typing furiously away at a keyboard, he realizes he must be in one of Gotham's older business buildings, probably somewhere close to the courthouse.
His throat stings something awful and his head's still reeling from the blow, but he's well enough now to realize that he's been laid out on a blanket on the floor. It's dark in here, the only illumination provided by the numerous computer monitors hooked up on the far side of the room and a few desk lamps near the door, but even without moving his head he can already tell that there are at least six of Bane's men in the room with him. They're all decked out in tattered military fatigues and bullet-proof vests, guns strapped to their thighs and belts; rifles to their backs. In fact, the only one besides Blake that isn't armed to the teeth is this tiny bespectacled guy sitting by the monitors, watching a snippet of Gotham City News on channel twenty-four between typing commands on an adjacent screen.
Three of the men are pouring over a map of some sort in the centre of the room, the other two posted on the inside of the door. Blake tries to crane his head as discretely as he can to see what else is going on, but he's lying in an odd position, stuck on his right side, hands tied behind his back, with his body situated so that his feet are pointed toward the nearest wall. He's out of the way and half-hidden by a desk, but he doubts they would've put him there only to forget about him, so when he rolls slightly over onto his back it only makes sense that he would regret the decision almost immediately.
He's beside a desk because Bane is currently sitting there sideways in the chair, a file in hand, eyes scanning the material idly before he notices that John is finally awake. Blake flinches impulsively as he tries to quell his brain's fundamental urge to fight or fly, but remains otherwise still as Bane tosses the file down in favour of focusing his undivided attention on him.
Bane only needs to lean over a little to stare directly into Blake's eyes, lifting his foot to plant it firmly over Blake's raised shoulder, pressing down...It forces Blake to turn completely over onto his back and keeps him pinned there as Bane 'tsks' behind the filter of his mask.
“Don't feel you need to get up on my behalf, John.”
“Why am I here?” he murmurs quietly, because, honestly, he hasn't got a clue in the world. Most of the cops that are rounded up and dragged off to Crane's kangaroo court are shot within the hour. Blake isn't entirely sure why he's been made an exception.
Unless-
Bane glances back at the file and plucks a photo from the stack. He turns it over so that Blake can see it. Even in the dim light, there's no mistaking the image of his car parked outside Wayne Manor.
Blake realizes then that he hasn't been brought all the way here just to die; he's been brought here to be tortured and mutilated before a picture of his mangled corpse is emailed to the evening news.
“It appears that you and I have a mutual friend.”
“Where is he?”
“Serving a life term,” Bane replies, eyeing the photo briefly before dropping it back on the pile, “for trying to rise above his station.”
“But isn't that what this is all about, an elimination of the hierarchy?”
Bane laughs. It sounds odd coming through the mask, choppy and awkwardly pitched. Then he digs the toe of his boot into the soft tissue of Blake's shoulder joint, enough so that Blake can't help but grit his teeth and cringe. “Fool that you are, I think you will understand in time.”
Reply
One of the men hovering over the centre table crosses the floor then to hand Bane another file. Bane opens it and gives it only a cursory glance before tossing it on top of the other one, letting off a pneumatic wheeze Blake can only assume is a sigh. “Now, John...I would like to know what you already understand of the matter at hand.”
Blake swallows; wishes his mouth wasn't so goddamn dry. “...You're here to see Gotham go up in flames. Regardless of what happens.”
“ 'Regardless'?” Bane enquires.
“Of your so-called revolution,” Blake murmurs, and it sounds odd hearing it in his own voice, the death sentence that has been dealt to this backward city of his; gives it a feeling of finality that he just can't shake. “Gotham's going down sooner or later, you just wanted to see it in the throes of death first. This whole charade you've got going on right now...it's really just some inside joke about false hope.”
He might be mistaken, but Blake sees something flicker in Bane's eyes on that last word. Hope, as though that was the key to Gotham's misery all along. Something about the drive to persevere...
“And do you believe Gotham deserves a second chance?”
“...Always.”
Bane leans back a little and stares out across the room, signalling to one of the men by the door. Then he presses down with the toe of his boot again, harder this time, until Blake has to bite back a cry.
The solder that joins them kneels by Blake's head with a needle in hand. He covers Blake's mouth with the other in order to turn his face away, toward Bane's boot, before jamming the syringe into his neck.
“There is at least one redeeming feature I know of to the naivety of youth,” Bane says, seemingly disappointed. “You are not yet too old to learn.”
'Not too old to learn what?' he wonders, but he'd rather not know. There's a game being played here that he doesn't have a hand in-doesn't even have a hope to have a hand in. Selina Kyle is probably aware of the finer details of what's going on here. Bruce Wayne, he assumes, does too, but him? He just wants to gets the GPD out of that goddamn pit and put an end to their nuclear crisis. Anything other than that, he's willing to leave to the big guns.
The image of Bane and his harrowing mask skew slightly to one side then before warping into something possibly more grotesque, the drug doing its work. His world spins as the soldier leans down to lift him off the floor, his head rolling back, and the last he sees of anything is the hazy glow of the computer monitors before consciousness abandons him completely.
This, he realizes, is just the beginning of the end...
[[[A/N: Fail-ending is made of fail, no? Seriously, I suck at ending chapters. No idea why, though...
In any case, thank you for the wonderful reviews!
PS: OP, it's not too late to tell what is and what isn't acceptable. Just give me a heads-up whenever you can.]]]
Reply
Reply
Reply
I can't wait to see more!
Bane is truly sadistic >3 and I love it! I also love how you have Bane sound as intelligent as he really is. Because let's face it...the dude is scary smart!
Looking forward to an update!
Reply
In any case, thanks again! And stay tuned for chapter three...
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Don't worry about where you want to go with this, I don't mind at all. I like the idea of the brainwashing/stockholm syndrom, because what you've written sonfar has me interested in what you can do with something like that.
Reply
Anyhow, I'm so glad you like it! Expect another update soon. ;)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment