Chapter Text
"Well look at what we have here.” The man’s breath was hot and sour but John barely noticed because he was too busy trying to avoid a nicked artery from the cold, sharp blade pressed against his throat. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you creeping around my hunting grounds? The was a bad idea, boy, cause now I gotta gut you like a pig.” The man wheezed a laugh and John hissed at the searing pain of the blade cutting a slow path starting just under his jaw. And then it fell away with a clatter but John was to afraid to turn; he was sure the man was just choosing a new blade to kill him with but then he heard the sound of a body to the pavement. When he turned he saw his would be killer’s body lying motionless on the ground and something even more terrifying standing over it: The leader of the entire shit show that Gotham had become, Bane.
Maybe it was the shock from nearly having his throat slit or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten in several days. Regardless of the cause, it was undeniable that John Blake fainted.
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When John woke on his couch, he thought he had just dreamt the entire thing. Atleast until he saw the masked man sitting in his arm chair, the soft hissing sound coming from his mask as he read John’s copy of Sherlock Holmes stories. It was a perfectly mundane thing to do. Something he did more times that he could recall and yet it was so bizarre to see Bane there, as if it was as natural to him as snapping people’s necks. At that thought John gingerly reached for his own, knowing that while the cut wasn’t enough to kill him, it could still need stitches. He was surprised to find that his neck was already bandaged neatly. What was going on? Bane was a killer and a madman. Why would he not only save John’s life but take him back to his apartment and bandage him up as well? To make matters worse the rookie had no idea what to do. This wasn’t really a hostage situation and while Bane was a killer, he didn’t appear to have that on his agenda. But what else was there?
“Do I need a reason, Robin John Blake?” John was stunned, not only by the question and the use of his full name but by the voice. It was so different from the booming declarations at Blackgate and Gotham Stadium. Here in his small livingroom it was soft and maybe even a little soothing. John quickly put that out of his head though. He needed a plan but he needed to know what Bane was doing first. He already knew he couldn’t physically take him on. Sure he’d survive a round or two but just one look at the thick arms was enough to make John toss the idea without another thought.
Bane smiled knowingly or atleast that was the impression John got from the small crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” John had hoped his voice sounded more confident than he felt. Bane continued to read though, as if John hadn’t said a word. He felt annoyance bubble up in his chest. Bane had to have known that he was afraid now; He was just toying with him then. Well fuck that! "Look, if you’re gonna kill me, just do it already. I know I’m of no use to you so let’s get it over with.” He sat up and noticed that his bedspread had been draped around him. This whole thing was getting too weird.
“And who are you to assume to know what I value?” Bane turned the page nonchalantly, as if they were having a friendly chat about the weather.
“ Well I hardly think you’re here to read my ratty paperbacks.” John knew that was stupid but he wasn’t going to just let this guy walk all over him in his own apartment! And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him pull him into some Stockholm Syndrome either. Why else would he save him from getting gutted? Once more Bane chose to ignore him in favor of the book. So they sat in silence punctuated by the sound of the occasional page turn. What had been annoyance grew into full blown anger that made John want to smack the book right out of the bigger man’s hands. Even if it meant that those hands ended up snapping his neck. He couldn’t stand just sitting and waiting for the other man to decide when he was going to acknowledge him!
So he stood with every intention of doing just that when the mercenary spoke, choosing to look him straight in the eye. “What do you hope to accomplish, Robin?"
“That isn’t my name!” He gritted out. Who did Bane think he was, talking to him like an adult questioning a wayward child? He wasn’t the one trying to blow up the city!
“That is what your id and all other documentation says” The fuck? What? Was this guy researching him?
“Yeah, well, I’m willing to bet none of your documentation lists your name as Bane.” He spat but Bane only chuckled, which made the rookie’s jaw clench.
“You are right but that is because there is no documentation anywhere about me. My name has always been Bane."
“What kind of parents name their kid Bane?” He knew he was way out of line but so was the mercenary.
“My parents did not play a very large role in my life. I hardly remember their faces.” Bane spoke matter of factly as if he were stating something as common as the color of the sky or gravity and not the absence of his parents. It was the lack of emotion that turned John’s anger. The measured indifference was as familiar as his own skin. “You bare your heart too quickly. That will end your life.” Bane gave him an appraising look and John snarled, hackles raising a bit. Was this some kind of bizarre threat?
“Who the hell do you think you are?!” He caved and threw a punch, knowing it wouldn’t connect. Ofcourse Bane effortlessly smacked his hand away and looked at him like an exasperated parent.
“You avoid my questions and try to engage me in a fight you cannot possibly hope to win.” Before John could respond Bane had sunk his fist into his gut, making his knees go weak and his vision go blurry. He hardly had time to collect himself before the metal of the mask scraped against his temple as the man whispered in his ear. “Are you satisfied now?” John could only wheeze in response and Bane tutted. “What are you trying to hide behind all that violence?"
“Nothing you need to worry yourself about. Don’t you have a few necks to snap?” John gritted out, fighting the twin urges to throw up and pass out. He had been in enough fights to guess that anything Bane did would hurt like hell but this was so much worse!
“Sarcasm, such a poor defense.” Bane chuckled. “How many fights have you fought because you chose that in the face of something too big for you?"
“Speaking awfully highly of yourself.” John was annoyed by the sound of his heavy wheezing. He wanted to punch the mercenary until he couldn’t smirk at him but before he could do anything, the man moved away and ambled to wards the door, still chuckling and holding the book.
“What the fuck?” Bane ignored him and left with the gentle snick of the door shutting.