Round Two Prompt Post

[tdkr_anon]

Round Two Is Currently Closed To New Prompts

Welcome to 'Round Two' of The Dark Knight Rises Kink Meme.
This round will close when it reaches four thousand comments and after two weeks, another prompt post will open.

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No Holds Barred: 4b/?

[anonymous]

*
About three weeks after John's arrival, things finally come to a head with the Blackgate conscripts. It happens when Bane leaves John alone on the roof to read while he and Barsad and two of the others discuss things in one of the rooms below, a private meeting. Maybe he does it on purpose; John doesn't know.

They ambush him silently-two of them. One attacks from behind, grabbing John's elbows and lifting him, unable to bring his arms around because of the handcuffs, while the other rushes him from the front.

Instinctively John brings his feet off the ground and kicks out, throwing off the second man, and in the same motion he swings his head back and connects with the other's face. He's dropped unceremoniously, and leaps upright, using his momentum to headbutt the man in front, who is rallying. Blood fountains from the man's nose. John swings around in time to leap back, avoiding a jab from a blade the other one has pulled. The second jab nicks his side, and the man behind him shoves him forward, intending to impale him, but John twists and can't correct in time due to the way his hands are bound.

He overbalances and hits the ground, and knows immediately that it's over. He curls up. They fall on him like wolves on their prey.

A crack of gunfire gets their attention. John dares to glance up and sees Barsad standing there by the doorway to the stairwell, rifle pointed at the sky. Then, like a silent, wrathful god, Bane descends on them.

John curls up again, just to block out the sight and sound of Bane slamming their skulls into the ground and then throwing their bodies off the roof, but Barsad is there in a moment to haul him to his feet.

“Foolish,” he says, in typical laconic fashion, and John doesn't know if Barsad means him or the men.

Bane's mask makes him look, now more than ever, like a snarling animal. His eyes are narrowed when they focus on John.

“I suppose you mourn them as well,” he says bitingly.

John just glares at him, one hand pressed against the cut on his side. Bane brushes past him.

“Patch him up,” he growls, on his way out.

Barsad does just that, dragging John back to Bane's bedroom and leaving him cuffed to the bed again when he's done. It doesn't seem fair, that John should be punished when he didn't do anything wrong. He doesn't feel any safer in here than he did out there. This fact is brought home when Bane arrives that night. Apparently this is one of the nights he'll spend in his room.

He handles John roughly while uncuffing him, and gives him a bottle of water. John sits against the wall and drinks it, watching him carefully.

“You were losing,” Bane says, when a long stretch of silence has passed. “Badly. Do they not teach police officers in Gotham how to fight?”

“There were two of them,” John says, prickling with defensiveness. “They had a weapon.”

“So have you.” Bane spreads his hands, looking down at him mockingly. “Your body.”

“Yeah, well,” John says, snide, “that's true when you're built like a tank, but I'm not quite there yet.”

“If your opponents are bigger and stronger than you then you must be faster than them. You must know where and how to strike so as to incapacitate them as swiftly as possible. That is how Miranda Tate defeated you.” He says her name like it's foreign and sour on his tongue. “Get on your feet.”

John does, because he's feeling reckless and angry. Bane moves closer, until he's looming over him.

“Hit me,” he challenges, “if you can.”