Weakness

Roslyne spent hours every day in the workout room, most of it training with Bane, but when he was otherwise engaged, she still did so alone. They had worked first on her own strategy of attack, moving to defense where she had to duck and roll and slide out of the way of many, many punches, kicks, or whatever other forms Bane's assaults came in. She could tell that on these days, the man was working hard not to hurt her, trying to keep his speed and swiftness without his normal force.

After some weeks, he began teaching her how to move about undetected, making no noise, staying out of sight, and leaving no traces of her presence behind. That was much harder than any of the defense and offence training. Even with the lights out, Bane could always figure out her location in the room and launch some kind of flying assailant at her.

It was her life for months, her time in the compound blurring together quickly until she looked at the date one day and realized that she was sixteen, not that it mattered much.

In that time, Roslyne also became closer to Barsad and Mücher, keeping her distance from most of the ladies of the building but remaining polite if she came in contact with any of them. None of the soldiers attempted what Strade had, and the teenager had to wonder if it was on Bane's orders, or if they realized that she would put up a fight, especially now.

The best part of training wasn't the sense of confidence and protection that it brought, though, or the time it took up, or the sense of purpose it gave Roslyne. No, the part that she enjoyed most was being able to talk with Bane (so long as she wasn't busy trying to be a ghost or getting kneed in the gut).

Every day, she would get to the recreation room and get ready, tying her hair up and wrapping her wrists. The masked man would arrive shortly after, and throughout their session, he would answer whatever questions she had for him, not sounding the least bit winded. Hearing his story was not a letdown, as it was every bit as fascinating as Bane himself, though it was quite sad.

"So, where exactly are you from?" Roslyne asked, jumping and tucking her knees up as the man suddenly crouched to the ground and swung his leg out under her.

"It's hard to say," he answered, straightening back up. "I was born in the Carribbean Republic of Santa Prisca in a prison called Peňa Dura." Roslyne frowned, barely dodging a punch. "My father was also a revolutionary mercenary who escaped the Republic's court system, but in his absence, Santa Prisca decided that his son would still serve his life sentence."

"That's awful!"

The hulking man showed no signs of sorrow, however. "After growing into a young man, I, along with the many other prisoners, were rescued, and while they went to create a new life for themselves, I trained under the mercenary who liberated us, a man named Ra's al Ghul."

"And, that's who taught you all of this," Roslyne stated more than asked, breathing heavily, now before diving through the gap between his legs and standing behind him, smiling when she thought she had the upper hand.

"Yes, he taught me many things. However," he threw a well-aimed kick backwards, clocking Roslyne right in her kneecap so that she fell to the ground hissing. "I built upon his techniques."

Roslyne, of course, continued to read and draw in her down time. The only difference between her arrival to the compound and the later months was that she had some form of a twisted social life within the bleak walls. Bane had even asked Barsad to take her shopping at one point, so that she didn't have to walk around in the same tank-top and cargo pants for weeks on end. If he had any fears of the girl running away while out in public, he didn't show it, nor did he need to.

Roslyne realized that she could have been suffering from something like Stockholm Syndrome, but it was unlikely. She truly was just comfortable where she was.

The two had left the building in one of the suburbans, dressed like normal citizens of California, and made their way to one of the smaller cities that sat between the compound and Los Angelos.

Roslyne had picked up a couple of cheap solid V-necks at a large Good Will store as well as a few pairs of shorts. Barsad told her that they could go to a bigger, brand-name store, and that money was not an issue-- "You're a teenage girl! Isn't shopping your favorite hobby?" "Barsad, you twat, I grew up on the streets!"-- but, Roslyne insisted.

She did, however, ask to go to an inexpensive department store in order to pick up some underwear (as wearing used panties just didn't sit well with her), during which browsing, the scruffy brunette kept his eyes glued to the carpet, ears turning red whenever Roslyne would hold up a bra and ask, "What d'you think of this one?" in a teasing tone.

"This is not what I signed up for when I joined Bane's army," he grumbled lowly, narrowing his eyes at the ground. His embarrassment was not quelled in the least when the cashiere, an older Hispanic woman, smiled and told him what a good boyfriend he was, taking Roslyne shopping for such personal items.

Roslyne knew that her life was darker than most, but she was still enjoying it for the most part.

"Alright, so if you grew up in Peňa Dura, how did you get so educated?"

Bane easily moved out of the way of a flying fist before telling her, "I spent much of my time reading while also learning from many of the inmates. Due to the location of the prison, I picked up on the different languages spoken within the walls, as well."

"And, those languages would be?" Roslyne pushed, breathless, and she aimed a high kick at his chest, only to get her foot trapped in his monstrous hands. He twisted before shoving her to the ground as gently as possible.

"Latin, Portuguese, Spanish, and, of course, English."

"And, I'm assuming you found ways to work out while in the prison?" She asked, rubbing her now twisted ankle.

Bane nodded. "There was a gym, yes."

"Sounds fun-filled beyond belief," the girl muttered sarcastically, earning a hidden smile from the mercenary.

Roslyne was the youngest person in the compound, even after they brought in a seventeen-year-old girl named Hester to take advantage of. She was the only merce-cherry that the teenager talked to, sometimes spending meal times together in one of the rec rooms. Hester was scared and brought to the building against her will, like so many others, and Roslyne spent much of her time trying to convince her that the soldiers weren't as bad as they seemed. Her word didn't hold much value, however, as Roslyne wasn't the one being ripped apart from the inside every night.

Still, whenever she could, she attempted to get Hester to join her whenever she roamed the hallways or had kitchen chats with Barsad and/or Mücher. She also contemplated finding a way to make her presence more well-known to Bane, who really didn't care for anyone who wasn't either one of his most trusted soldiers (Barsad, Mücher, Gillen, Thomas, and a few others who were apparently abroad) or Roslyne, but she couldn't bring herself to. As much as she wanted Hester to get away from whatever abuse she was having to deal with, there was a small, though very selfish part of her, who didn't want anyone else to have the same sort of relationship with the man that she did. It was an awful thing to admit, but Roslyne had never been a particularly virtuous person.

"Okay, so the mask," Roslyne started. She was supposed to be stealth training but couldn't rid her thoughts of the question.

Bane arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"What's it for?"

He actually let down his defenses, standing straight while his fingers twitched by his sides as he watched her for a long moment. Finally, he spoke slowly, "It was an experiment," breathing obvious through the apparatus in question.

"Pardon?"

Roslyne heard him sigh before he explained in full detail. "While I was in Santa Prisca, I had somewhat of a hold on the prison. I established myself as a powerful inmate, intimidating the others, and gained a reputation as the King of Peňa Dura prison."

"Modesty's not your strong suit, you know that?"

His brown eyes flicked up to her in amusement before he continued. "The wardens of sorts weren't very fond of me or the control I had, and one day, they decided to make me the test subject of a drug... A drug called Venom." His voice, with its strange inflection and sing-song tone still somehow managed to sound almost sad, and Roslyne was surprised at the way she could feel her heart actually ache for the hulking man.

"They administered the drug to me, knowing well that it had taken the lives of all other subjects it had been tested on. It came close to killing me, as well, but took a liking to my system and actually increased my strength by epic proportions. The doctors found that it had to be given to me every twelve hours, and they administered it to me in such a manner until I left."

"What'd you do then?" Roslyne questioned, so interested that she was actually leaning forward slightly.

"My body had become dependent on it, so much so that going without the Venom causes immense pain and could ultimately result in my death. Once out of the pit, I constructed the mask which serves as a ventilation system."

Roslyne's eyes grew wide, and she stared at him for a moment before stating, "You're breathing it in. Right now, all the time-- you're just breathing it."

Bane nodded. "That way, I don't ever have to worry about taking a dose every morning or every night. It's constant."

The teenager stood, stunned for some time, nodding as she took the information in. It made sense, twisted as it was, but it made Roslyne realize how vulnerable he actually was. That mask was imperative for his very survival; without it, he would lose a vast amount of his strength and be immobilized by physical pain. That was, if he didn't die first.

The fact that he was trusting her with such information was what really surprised her, though. They had gotten closer over the months, Roslyne telling him tidbits about her life just as much as he was telling her, but she still hadn't imagined him revealing such a fact.

As if reading her mind, Bane's voice dropped, and he uttered, "You do realize how important it is that this stays a secret."

She nodded. "So, no one else knows?"

He shook his head slowly. "I've thought about informing Barsad of my potential handicap many times but haven't found sufficient reason to do so."

The girl breathed before glancing up to meet his gaze. "It stays between you and I, then."

He did something very out of character then, lowering his head a fraction and taking one large step forward so that he was just a few inches from Roslyne. Without any warning, his broad arms wrapped around her small frame, one hand landing to rest on her left shoulder blade while the other was on the small of her back.

Eyes wide once again, Roslyne willed her body to relax and snaked her own arms around Bane's bare torso, unable to lock them around his muscled form.

She had been pressed against him many times before due to training, but it had never been so affectionate, and Roslyne had to wonder if she was dreaming, as she hadn't even thought that the man was capable of showing such care.

She reminded herself of their very first meeting on the cold streets of New York and the sympathy he'd shown her then, wrapping her mind around her current position a little more when he articulated a short, "Thank you," and let go, stepping back, then turning and walking from the room.

Neither Roslyne nor Bane spoke of the day of training where he'd let his guard down, but it changed their dynamics. The girl found it easier to joke around him, even teasing the colossal man every now and again, and Bane found a way to be even more gentle with her. She began to take some of her meals down to his workroom whenever she felt like spending time with him, and if she wasn't hungry, she would bring a book with her and simply sit in his presence, feeling at ease with him around.

She learned smaller, though still important facts about him, such as his being around twenty years old when they first met and was now about twenty- seven. Having been born into the prison, Bane didn't actually know when his birthday was, his age being a mere estimation. She learned that he only ever took the mask off to eat and shower, only daring to leave it off for twenty minutes at the most. Roslyne didn't ask to see his face underneath, figuring that if he wanted to show her, he would in due time. She couldn't deny her curiostiy, and more than once, Bane would look up from whatever weapon he was working on to find her staring intently at him, Roslyne only offering a small smile when she was caught.

There was no doubt in anybody's mind that he was fond of the girl. The soldiers knew it, the women knew it, and Roslyne, herself, knew it. She didn't mind in the least, as she had a huge soft spot for him as well, terrorist or not.

Things remained the same for quite a while. It was quiet and relaxed, and Roslyne had just begun to wonder if Bane and the soldiers were beginning to get restless, since they apparently were used to a more dramatic lifestyle, when he stepped into her room one day.

She looked up from the book she was reading (Catch-22 by Joseph Heller) and grinned.

"Yes, darling?" She greeted teasingly upon his arrival.

Bane, eyes shining with mirth, started out with, "I just wanted to tell you of--..." But trailed off and picked up a piece of paper, one of her drawings, from Roslyne's little table, studying it closely. "Is this the layout of the compound?"

The girl stood from the bed and walked over to him, glancing at the sheet in his hand and nodding. "Yeah, I did it one of my first nights here. Found it just a few minutes ago in my little box of doodles."

She could remember being bored out of her mind and sketching out the building as best she could after walking it just a few times.

"Did you do this from memory?"

Frowning, she nodded. "Yeah, after roaming around for a few minutes. Why?"

Bane shrugged his shoulders before setting the drawing back down. "It just suggests that you have considerable spatial recognition."

Roslyne snorted. "Bane, I grew up in New York City, basically alone. I am, in no way, directionally challenged. Don't sound so impressed."

His eyes crinkled at the corners in the way that the girl was beginning to adore so much, and he muttered, "We may be able to use the skill in the future, is all I mean."

She nodded before sitting back down on her mattress. "So, what did you need?"

"In a few days, my soldiers who've been away will be returning to the compound. I just wanted you to know."

"Where've they been, anyway?" Roslyne asked, frowning.

Bane paused before answering, "Gotham City."

It was a well-known name, another city as popular as New York City and Los Angelos, despite the fact that the crime rate was through the roof.

"Do I need to watch out for any of them that you know of?"

He shook his head as he made his way to the door again. "You will be fine Roslyne. At this point, I believe you are far more lethal than any of them."

The mercenary tossed a wink in her direction, then left the room, leaving the girl to wonder how a threatening character, such as Bane, could be so smooth and make her lips twitch up the way they did. There were also the other soldiers to think about, but she couldn't bring herself to be particularly bothered by their upcoming arrival.