Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my originals. Please refrain from suing me for copyright infringement. I also don't own my cover image...some British guy does.
A/N: Hello all! I finally got to see TDKR today and was completely enthralled. I honestly didn't think that it could beat the awesomeness that was The Avengers, but it did...hands down. And so, naturally I had to start a fic on it. I was fascinated by Bane, as most of you reading this probably were, and thought it would be interesting to see what would have came about should he have lived. This is that tale :D
Warnings: This is going to be a dark piece of work, as mentioned in the description: Bane/OFC, but not the whole "bad-guy-falls-in-love-and-BAM-suddenly-is-good" scenario. If you want that, there are tons of them out there (though I'm not sure that there are any for this character yet...then again I haven't looked). Anyways: DARKNESS, rating may go up depending on multiple things.
I hope you enjoy and please do leave a review if you so desire :P
She parks her car just outside of the large building and steps out into the cold weather, hoping that the signs of spring will soon envelop Gotham with their provision. She grabs her worn backpack and slings it carelessly over one shoulder as she closes the door of the aging Buick and locks it, dropping her keys into her pants pocket. She walks up to the doors of that which is to be her new place of work, feeling nervous and unqualified, knowing that most everyone within is a trained professional, and she, a meager young woman of twenty-five, will be an amateur. Her hands fumble only just on the handle of the door before she pulls it open and enters.
Greeted by a pair of security officers, she accepts the safety inspection with all the dignity she can muster and continues on her way when she is given the green light. She stops at a front desk enclosed by a glass window, studied by the middle aged woman behind it.
"I'm here for my first day of employment," she states meekly.
The woman nods with a small smile. "Yes, we've been expecting you. I see you have your uniform on already."
It is her turn to nod, but is reminded of how uncomfortably the blue polo-like shirt is on her. She signs her in for the first time on the computers and tells her where to go. She walks away without saying anything else to her, anticipating the meeting with her colleagues. She travels through what appears to be a dingy staff lounge of sorts - looking to be used only minimally -, drops her bag on one of the couches there, and then finds herself in the place where she should be: the main security room.
All eyes turn to her, and a harsh looking man with rapidly graying hair steps out to shake her hand. "Sophie Scott - we were just talking about you. 'Thought you wouldn't show up."
"No, sir," she states, "I don't want to miss out on a job opportunity."
The man scoffs, "Tell that to the others who quit on us once they found out what they were gonna be doing." Laughs come and go throughout the room. Sophie notices that there are many computer screens being observed. She sees a single individual in each of them and forces herself not to look anxious.
"Well, I won't quit now. You have my word."
"Good kid" - and she really is a 'kid', for everyone around her has to be over forty - "we'll waste no time then. Follow me."
Sophie goes after him. "What should I call you, sir?"
"Not "sir" that's for sure. Just call me Morton for now." He switches subjects rapidly, "Now, your main objective here is to make sure our buddy is "properly cared for" because the government wants him alive for only God knows why - if I had my way he would have been dead the day they caught him." Morton shows her into another room at the bottom of a flight of steps. It is occupied by a few people. "This is the kitchen, obviously, and we just give him the leftovers from what we have. Sometimes he eats, sometimes he doesn't, but that's not your problem either way. You just take it to him two times a day."
She wonders for what must be the hundredth time why they need someone to come in to simply deliver food to the man they are keeping. Do they not have workers to do that? Or perhaps it's more then that. Perhaps they need someone young and calm to do it. She has only seen men - excluding the woman at the front desk - so far. Do they want a female to do the task? She speculates on...
Morton continues to explain more of the details to Sophie, most of which are common sense: "Don't ever go in the cell - you'll have the pass code but are never to use it", "Always take the tray out, empty or not", "We can't hear you over the cameras but there's always some guards around so you should be fine". She absorbs all of this affably and persists in listening as he talks on about this and that. He's a nice guy, really, but seems to be a bit cruel in his opinions on the said "guest" they're housing. One would have thought that with just having one single person on the premises - a dangerous one, no less - that the man in charge would show a bit more respect. Sophie shrugs it off and accepts it for what it is. She reminds herself that she's making money, not debating her boss's outlooks.
"Oh, and most importantly," Morton finishes, leading her back up the steps towards the main room. He even pauses, looking down at her severely and saying, "Under no circumstances, are you to speak to him."
"I understand sir," she says, not quite telling him the truth. He looks unconvinced, so she adds, "Give him his food two times a day. Remember to take out the trays. Make sure he's healthy enough looking from the outside of the cell. Don't go in. And never talk. I think I got it all." At her recitation of what he has just told her, he looks satisfied at last.
"Okay, Miss Scott..." Morton resumes his decent, "...I think you have food to deliver."
Sophie turns around and goes back into the kitchen, noticing that there is already a tray set out for her to pick up and take the distance down the hall. Gripping it securely and picking it up, she exchanges a quick glance with one of the kitchen workers, who watches her sympathetically, and exists. Her legs begin to feel heavy from fretfulness, the corridor she walks down feeling miles long. She assures herself that everything will be alright, but even her mental promises seem empty as she questions the fact that not a half-hour ago she simply walked into this building and now was taking food to a mass murderer.
Stop it...she scolds herself, Just stop it. There's cameras everywhere down there...You'll be fine.
But once again, when she gets to her destination, stands in front of the cell and observes its occupant, she's not so sure.
He sits on the metal bench in the back, still as a statue with his head bowed and his eyes closed. He looks as if he could be praying or something of the sort, though Sophie knows this is not the case. She takes in the sight of him, feeling very much like a child, small in stature and muscle composition next to the monster before her. Still he does not move, but she hears him breathing as clear as day. He appears well, all things considered, but if her new employers think she can discern farther then obvious outward appearances, they are dead wrong. She's no physician - she's a college graduate with no money and a useless degree in Greek mythology.
Swallowing her trepidation with the thought of being observed by those in the security room on her mind, she bends down, takes out the other tray, slides the new one through the diminutive slot at the bottom of the cell's door, glancing at the prisoner the whole time, then stands and leaves, relief washing over her.
It hits her fully when she leaves shortly after, having come in just in time to give the building's guest his second round of food for the day.
Good Lord...I just saw Bane.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this pilot chapter! We'll have more Bane in the next one, but as with most pilots, I needed to establish the reasoning behind Sophie being where she is. I'll have the next one out ASAP, but let me know what you think in the mean time :D