She Rises by Paradisical815
Summary: The people of Gotham did not go down without a fight. Two weeks after the city is sacked, a girl is taken captive by Bane as punishment for leading a rebellion and as a warning to others who would follow in her footsteps. But some battles are lost before they can be won and the road to destiny can be as twisted as the path to redemption. Eventual Bane/OC.
Rating: M for disturbing content, language, and sexual content.
Trigger Warnings: Recreational abuse of prescription drugs, psychological manipulation, intense fight scenes, murder, unhealthy sexual situations/relationships. I also feel the need to mention that there will be frank discussion and depiction of rape, sexual abuse, and the aftermath of sexual abuse. This is not a major component but I don't want anyone to read something that might be triggering.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters associated with the franchise. I do not own any of the song lyrics/poems/quotes featured at the beginning of each chapter. I own the plot to this story and any original characters. THIS IS THE DISCLAIMER FOR ALL CHAPTERS.
Featured Song: "Distrubia" by Rihanna
Chapter One: The Taken
She didn't tremble. She didn't even flinch. She was tiny, barely reaching his chest, and chubby, and generally unimpressive and unthreatening but she tilted her chin up and met his gaze without fear, which was no small thing to do.
He stopped in front of her and the others in the line held their collective breath, hoping he took her so they could go home. The girl's eyes were wide and pretty and a violent shade of blue; she had strange lips. Strange because they were slightly asymmetrical, strange because they were full and soft and set in a hard line.
She was afraid; he could feel it pouring off of her. But she refused to show it and by doing so, she was refusing him his power. The other captured women in the line of captives refused to look at him, hoping he'd pass them by, not wanting to anger him or draw his attention, but this one, not the youngest or the oldest, not the prettiest or the ugliest, met his gaze with a quiet kind of defiance.
"What is your name?" he asked her, his filtered voice echoing around the abandoned church. There was a moment of total quiet before she answered.
Her voice wasn't what he'd expected. It was sharp, a little raspy, and toneless, and it sounded wrong coming out of such a soft mouth.
"How did these people find you?"
He knew the power of his voice; he knew it was unsettling. They expected a growl and instead got a strange, lilting accent wrapped in a sound like thunder, but this girl did not look unsettled. Her gaze was locked squarely onto his, her dark brows pulled down over those blue eyes in a look that was more measuring than it was angry. Bane was perfectly content to let her stare into him; there was a quote about what happened when one stared too long into an abyss and he had been an abyss for a very long time now, and he had every intention of looking back.
"She was fighting us," came a hard male voice from behind Bane before the girl could speak. Her blue eyes flashed past him with a surprising speed. "Organizing a mutiny down by the old docks."
"Mutinies are on ships," snapped the girl suddenly, her eyes sliding back to Bane even as she addressed the other man. "I was organizing a rebellion, get your facts straight if you're going to kidnap me and put me for sale."
And then, to everyone's surprise, Bane began to laugh.
"She is right about that. And what a rebellion it was- doused before the spark even took form. How proud you must be."
She said nothing but her eyes burned.
He bent down so that their eyes were on the same level and he studied her. She was coiled tighter than a spring, her hands clenched at her side, pupils dilated and the vein in her neck pulsing.
"What did you think you would achieve?" he asked softly, his accent lilting and clipped at the same time. "Surely you knew success was impossible."
"Sometimes," she said, and her voice was not loud but it carried and reverberated in the building and he knew her words would echo in every ear, "it's about more than success."
"You wished to set an example."
She said nothing and he straightened up.
"I would be honored to grant your wish."
And abruptly he turned his back on her, striding out of the church to where a motorcycle was waiting.
They bound her wrists and threw her on a motorcycle. She glared at one of them, a tall and thin man who had the look of a junkie, someone who'd probably been in Blackgate before the masked terrorist had opened the prison doors and set hell loose in Gotham. He gave her a grin that would have looked at home on a rat and stroked the nozzle of his gun.
"If you expect me to drive this thing with my wrists bound, you're stupider than you look."
She did not feel brave but there were many different types of fear, too, and right now, the fear pulsing through her was a lot like insanity.
He leaned over and exhaled in her face. His breath reeked of onions and garlic and she winced, jerking away from him. "Best get all that spunk out now, girly. Ain't gonna have it for much longer."
She spat in his face before she realized what she was doing and even after her brain registered the stupidity of it, she couldn't really bring herself to regret it. His face spasmed in anger and he drew a hand back before punching her in the cheek, sending her to the ground. It had started to snow.
Her head was spinning and she tasted blood in her mouth, but no teeth seemed to be loose and she doubted it'd do anything more than bruise. It'd hurt, but it wasn't a very good punch.
She slowly rose to her feet, unsteady without the use of her hands, and gave the man a smile. "Stick to your guns, rat tails, you punch like a five year old."
His face contorted again and he tried to get to her around the bike but she planted her hands on the seat and vaulted herself over the bike, her bound hands twisting on the leather, and kicked him in the head. He went sprawling.
"And seriously, brush your damn teeth."
He climbed to his feet, glaring at her and hoisting the gun at her. She raised an eyebrow, feeling strangely unafraid; the worst this man could do was kill her, and maybe, with Bane now her keeper or her captor, that would be a blessing.
"Really? Going to shoot an unarmed college student? That's real manly, real brave-"
"If you pull that trigger, it will be the last thing you do."
Bane's voice made her body clench. It came from behind her and it was mechanical and intellectual and the verbal equivalent of a lion stalking prey; it sounded like a history book, if history books were made of thunder as well as blood.
"She attacked me."
Bane stood beside her and her skin crawled. He had a strange scent to him, almost chemical, like hospitals and smoke.
"An unarmed girl a foot shorter than yourself? It must have been quite the fight." He sounded amused and she forced herself to keep her gaze on Rat-tails.
His face flushed and he gave her a last glare, one she met with a particular vehemence of her own.
"Regardless," continued Bane, his voice a calm, mechanical threat, "I have claimed her. She is not to be harmed. Leave, now."
He left, cursing under his breath, and Bane looked down at her. She met his gaze as solidly as she could.
"Claimed?" was all she said. It was hard to read his face with the mask, but something behind his eyes tightened as his mask gave a hollow hiss.
"Yes. Get on the bike."
She climbed on gracelessly. He swung a leg over the seat and sat behind her, his arms on either side of her to grip the handlebars. She tried to make herself as small as possibly to avoid touching him but his arms were like steel bars on either side of her and his chest pressed against her back. She felt the strange, rigid material of the bulletproof vest he wore and the fear in her body rose like a wave and she felt like she might scream or throw up or a combination of the two and she tried to force herself into calm.
Five seconds, she told herself as the bike roared to life, his arms moving on either side of her. Five seconds to be afraid.
He took her to an apartment complex filled with his men and his women and they took what had to be one of the most awkward elevator rides in history. He'd steered her through the crowds in the million dollar foyer, a big hand on her shoulder, not for her benefit, but to broadcast the message to the others- this one is mine. His hand had dropped as soon as they stepped inside the elevator and they stood in silence broken only by the sound of his mechanical breathing. Kathryn's wrists were sore and beginning to chafe thanks to the rope that bound them, but she ignored it. She was cold as well, wearing only a long sleeved shirt, jeans and boots, but she ignored that too. She tried to think, to plan-
They rose past the twentieth floor.
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to know what he was going to do to her, what exactly it meant to be claimed by a masked, mass murderer, she wanted to know if his people had captured any more of her people or if she was the only one, she wanted to know when she would die, when they would all die- but she said nothing. She let the questions scream inside her head; in the safety of her own mind she cursed and screamed and shouted but outwardly, she made no sound. She was so scared she felt as though her skin was vibrating.
They reached the thirtieth floor and the elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
"Out you go," said Bane, and with halting steps, she stepped into the lion's den.
He followed her and she felt the doors close. The apartment looked like it was once incredibly expensive but now it was sparse, almost bare; somehow it didn't surprise her that Bane seemed little for interior decorating. There was an old couch and a big kitchen, both of which looked unused (how the hell does he eat? she wondered suddenly) and an organized pile of weapons on the table. She could see a hallway leading out of the living room that led to a bedroom, she assumed. The walls were lined with windows that looked out on the shell of Gotham and she wondered about her friends, her family, the people who'd gone to war.
"Nice place," she said loudly, her voice shaking but hard. If she was going to die- and she had no option to assume otherwise- then she was going to make herself as obnoxious as possible.
He said nothing, his back to her.
"I thought you were big on the communal living thing. Share it all, spread the wealth, what's yours is all of ours, right? You got a bunk mate?"
"Yes," he said, turning to look at her, an almost amused look in his eyes. "You."
Something icy filled her veins. Outside the window, the snow was coming down harder.
"Are you going to rape me?" she asked, and was glad that her voice did not shake that time and that she sounded almost disinterested, as though whatever was going to happen in this apartment would happen to someone else. His eyes didn't change but something did, something in the air between them shifted and she knew what his answer would be before the words left his mask.
And then he was reaching for her- he took her wrists, pulled a knife from his belt and cut through the bindings. She pulled her hands back as quickly as possible, disliking his touch, and rubbed her wrists. He moved back to the elevator without looking at her.
The doors slid open.
"Do not try to escape."
To Be Continued
A/N: First and foremost- this story will contain fairly to pretty damn major spoilers for The Dark Knight Rises. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEE IT LOOK AT YOUR LIFE LOOK AT YOUR CHOICES BECAUSE THAT MOVIE IS RIDICULOUS.
A little bit of history- my friends and I write all the time together. We have a list of prompts and we trade stories, and I was given this one and holy it has it developed a life of its own. So, yes, this IS a self insert story. Why? It's fun. If that bothers you, turn back now.
I hope you like the story! Would love to hear what you think!
(updated on 8/25/13: i'm going back through the chapters to remove the song lyrics. instead there will be a featured song as shown at the beginning of the chapter. thanks!)