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[Sep. 5th, 2010|11:55 am] |
Bane let the wind blow over him. The night air felt good against muscles that had recently been strained to work out and push himself. As always, before coming on a walkabout, he had worked out in his routine, building himself, pushing himself, never letting himself go without that.
He would not let this strange new feeling, this teenage, undo what he had become, what he was. He would rather it did not affect him at all, but he knew that was a futile and silly dream, something to push aside for weaker men. bane would not live in a dream, or in denial, even when he wanted to, desperately.
He pushed such weak thoughts aside. He had experienced them enough the first two days he was here. A week later, he did not need to let them take over. He was here and now, in this situation, and until he found out who had done this, and he would, well, until then, he would have to deal with it. He was a teenage boy, and he would fight, kick, and bite his way through whatever tests and tasks thrown his way. He was strong, and nothing would stop him. Nothing.
Below, a scuffle broke out as some kids tried to steal a girl's purse, causing a shriek to rise. A smirk half grimness, half joy, pulled back Bane's lips and turned his face even more feral, And then he pulled down his mask, and leaped.
He landed among them, fists lashing out before they knew he was there, a growling roar ripping out of his mouth as he smashed one boy against a wall and drove another down to his knees with a punch that broke a rib in the boy he hit. A spin and a kick, and another boy flew several feet to smack with a sickening sound against a wall, and slump there, not moving. And then, that quickly, it was over. The girl, trembling, frightened to the point where her mind could not deal, fainted, and Bane, amused, laughed.
His laugh echoed into the still night as he lifted her easily in his arms and strode away. He deposited her on the steps of a house where those inside would help her, and departed, having taking exactly one dollar from her purse. His work was done. He had been paid. And he was... content. |
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