"No. Taken in by a buyer without an established record. Falsified papers, by the looks of things. Do you recognize this man?"
He pulls up a screenshot. Bruce on his knees in a small stall, a man with laughing eyes and short hair standing over him, expression twisted in a smirk.
"He's been implicated in the theft of other property, both subjects never seen again. Only next time, around a hundred people were found dead."
He leans closer, trying to remember every face he has ever seen. But no, he hasn't seen that one.
He looks around for a chair, then just kneels beside Bane's. This is work, this is what he's good at. More than that, this is going to help save Bruce Banner.
"What property is he after?"
He usually poses questions to himself out loud that way, but finds himself glancing at Bane for ideas.
Click. The footage is up. Lucifer is standing, laughing again, surrounded by bodies, while Bruce gently unhooks and gathers up a naked, bloodied, emaciated but unmistakably alive Tony Stark.
"The notes weren't specific on who that is. But that's Tony Stark, isn't it? The other Avenger? I've seen him like this before."
When the battery got put in.
"I had presumed he was becoming property, but whoever has them may be making a power play, may be... exceptional in his own right, the way Doctor Banner is."
"They're lovers. They would have gone after each other, no matter who got free first. But if you're right, if anyone else is alive, they may be going after them next."
He turns the laptop screen, cues up a webcam, clicks, and there Bruce Wayne is on his screen, tousled and a little sunburnt and looking like his heart is being ripped out by what he's seeing, kneeling patiently.
A few clicks, and the picture is uploading.
"We can't get to them."
However, they will soon arrive for Bruce, he imagines.
The rough comfort will make him laugh later. Right now his mind is just trying to come to terms with the idea that Banner has been alive and well; that Tony isn't dead.
That he might see Fox and Alfred again. And that, of all the things that might have happened to him personally, he is with another exile of the League. He stays just as he is, cheek on Bane's knee, unfocused and empty.
He doesn't hear when an email comes in expressing interest in Bruce. It's signed, simply, Meg.
Oh but we're looking to buy. :) Even for a night. High prices, three wishes, whatever you want, we got. I mean it. Think it over.
Is the last thing Meg will say for the day.
Bruce won't notice that either. His mind has circled around to guilt, and abandonment, and suspicion that it's all an elaborate trick by whoever it was they'd seen on screen.
Bruce comes out of it screaming, not just out of rage this time, and clawing at Bane's face.
Somehow this results in him pulling Bane close and knocking the chair out from under him. He fears being suffocated again, and buries his face against Bane's broad chest to stifle the screams since he can't stop them yet.
There they are. He holds his wrists, in case of damage to the mask, and lets him catch his breath, hanging on to him tight like that, sprawled on the carpet underneath him.
He rubs his back through the screaming, listening to hear if he starts to settle, or if he wants to hurt him again.
"For what? That was gratifying. Is the suffocation fear the same as the grasping at the throat, or did I just startle you? I'm going to do it again, now."
Flipping them over, pinning him hard against the rug.
There's the panic. The League of Shadows eradicated the idea of using this as play, and he's fairly sure it did for Bane, too. If in fact he ever knew how to play to begin with. Which means this is a potentially fatal situation.
He manages to get one hand free, and goes for Bane's eye.
He scores, and Bane rolls off him, hand pressed over his face, quiet. No permanent damage, he can tell right away, but his eyes are watering and there'll be a scrape at the corner of one. He blinks quickly.
Bruce rolls onto his side, steadying his breathing, aware that he's not dead. And very well could have been. Which means that he overreacted, most likely.
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"He escaped?"
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He pulls up a screenshot. Bruce on his knees in a small stall, a man with laughing eyes and short hair standing over him, expression twisted in a smirk.
"He's been implicated in the theft of other property, both subjects never seen again. Only next time, around a hundred people were found dead."
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He leans closer, trying to remember every face he has ever seen. But no, he hasn't seen that one.
He looks around for a chair, then just kneels beside Bane's. This is work, this is what he's good at. More than that, this is going to help save Bruce Banner.
"What property is he after?"
He usually poses questions to himself out loud that way, but finds himself glancing at Bane for ideas.
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Click. The footage is up. Lucifer is standing, laughing again, surrounded by bodies, while Bruce gently unhooks and gathers up a naked, bloodied, emaciated but unmistakably alive Tony Stark.
Bane's eyes narrow.
"I see."
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There was no explosion, no gas. Nothing that has effected Tony or Bruce.
"Fill me in."
On what Bane is thinking.
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When the battery got put in.
"I had presumed he was becoming property, but whoever has them may be making a power play, may be... exceptional in his own right, the way Doctor Banner is."
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Swallowing hard.
"They're lovers. They would have gone after each other, no matter who got free first. But if you're right, if anyone else is alive, they may be going after them next."
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A few clicks, and the picture is uploading.
"We can't get to them."
However, they will soon arrive for Bruce, he imagines.
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But he doesn't want Bane to end up dead. Or the other men, because he abhors killing, but Bane specifically. He looks up at him evenly.
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Gesturing at his mask.
"Fear not."
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That he might see Fox and Alfred again. And that, of all the things that might have happened to him personally, he is with another exile of the League. He stays just as he is, cheek on Bane's knee, unfocused and empty.
He doesn't hear when an email comes in expressing interest in Bruce. It's signed, simply, Meg.
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That he must go, but that Bruce Wayne will be taking calls this time tomorrow.
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Is the last thing Meg will say for the day.
Bruce won't notice that either. His mind has circled around to guilt, and abandonment, and suspicion that it's all an elaborate trick by whoever it was they'd seen on screen.
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If he were a gentle man, he'd hold him until he came out of it. Instead, he tucks him close, and puts a hand over his mouth and nose.
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Somehow this results in him pulling Bane close and knocking the chair out from under him. He fears being suffocated again, and buries his face against Bane's broad chest to stifle the screams since he can't stop them yet.
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He rubs his back through the screaming, listening to hear if he starts to settle, or if he wants to hurt him again.
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"Sorry."
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Flipping them over, pinning him hard against the rug.
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And then he's muffled and thrashing, but not in the same frantic, fight-or-die way that he does when it's his neck.
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Hand still and inexorable over his mouth, mask close to him, Bane's eyes are bright.
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He manages to get one hand free, and goes for Bane's eye.
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"Are you okay?"
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