A Life Less Ordinary

Bane signaled for three of his men to move to his left, and the remaining three to move to his right as they silently made their way into the old abandoned mill. The sun had set, but had done little to help the humidity. It hung like a shroud over them.

He signaled forward, sending his men in before him, but waited in silence, motionless as if made of stone. Gnats and mosquitoes buzzed incessantly around him, but he never flinched.

“Sir, the building is secure.” Schneider’s voice crackled over the radio. Bane wasted no time in entering. Large, decommissioned machines were scattered about, large industrial-sized chains hung from the rafters. Bane pushed with ease through the chains, making his way to the very back where his men stood, weapons pointed at a single man sitting with his back to him.

“Hola, Doctor.” his mechanical voice tore through the silence. The old man continued his work, pausing only briefly to address his visitor.

“Ah…young Antonio Diego…to what to I owe the honor?” he asked with a thick Spanish accent. He poured a vial of unknown liquid into a glass test tube.

“Today…” Bane walked next to him and picked up a beaker of green liquid. “Today is your lucky day…” he replied. Different plants lay scattered across his work area, dissected on shiny metal trays.

“Is that so? Have you come to award me with the Nobel Prize? If not,” the old man waved him away as he looked into a microscope. “Then be gone with you. I’ve no interest in your wars.”

Bane gently placed the beaker down and slid his hand between the microscope and the doctor’s eyes, grasping the eyepiece in his hand and forcing the doctor to look at him.

“Doctor Woodrue, I am trying to be polite. Wont you give me your undivided attention, just as I gave you mine all those years ago? You do remember, don’t you?”

Dr. Woodrue sighed and looked up at him through scratched and cracked bifocals. His white hair stood up in areas, as if he had just rolled out of bed and never combed it. A thing gray stubble covered his face.

“How can an artist ever forget his best work?” He asked. The man was a pompous ass and Bane had spent many a night planning for the moment that they would finally meet again. But he was a statue, unreadable. His cold green eyes were matched only by Woodrue’s own, abnormally bright green eyes. It was then that Bane noticed bright green veins tracing their way across his neck.

He made a clicking noise and pushed the collar back gently. “Señor…you’re not still attempting to combine your DNA with plants?” Clasping his hands behind his back, he began to slowly pace around the work table.

Woodrue narrowed his eyes. “Are you still trying to change the world, Antonio?” Bane’s eye twitched at the use of his birth name. He pulled out a nearby chair and sat down.

“Alas, I have come to the conclusion that the world will never change. Now, as I said earlier, I have a task for you.” Bane replied.

“Do tell.” The doctor sucked the green fluid into a syringe and flicked it to get the air bubbles out.

“Wait for me outside.” Bane ordered his men.

“Sir?” Cortez and Paolo said in unison.

“Relax. The Doctor is no threat to me. He knows the odds are not in his favor at this moment.” Bane replied, never taking his eyes away from the doctor. Reluctantly the men took their leave. Once he was confident they were out of hearing range, he continued.

“I need you to create a serum to offset the Venom.” he said. This news got the attention of Woodrue. He laid the syringe down gently and turned to face Bane.

“Why would you want that? Which also begs the question, why would I do that?” Woodrue asked. When Bane didn’t immediately respond, he began to roll his sleeve up past the elbow. His forearm was dotted with track marks and bruises in various shades of blue, yellow, and deep purple. Some of the puncture wounds seeped a greenish-yellow fluid.

“Because, you’re on the run from the cartel. And you fear being sent back to Peña Dura.” Woodrue grunted in response, pulling a rubber tourniquet taut around his upper arm. His veins had a dark green appearance.

“You know as well as I that what the Cartel will do to you pales in comparison to what awaits you in the pit. All of those who you tortured and experimented on…” Bane shook his head slowly. “Either way death is in your cards. Do this for me, I will give you sanctuary and provide funding so that you may continue your research…”

Woodrue squeezed his fist and slid the needle into the enlarged median cubital vein, injecting the green fluid.

“Or whatever it is that you do…” Bane’s left brow raised in slight disgust. The doctor withdrew the needle, popped the tourniquet and immediately recorded some information in a small black book. He then took a deep breath, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body stiffened and he exhaled.

Bane watched, unblinking as the man who used him as a science experiment began to have a seizure. This turn of events was completely unexpected, but he could only hope that the old man pulled out of it. No sooner had panic actually set in, than the old man sat up with a gasp. As if nothing had happened, he began to record more information in the book.

“I will do it. But there are quite a bit of supplies we will need. And it will take time. You have had Venom in you body for so long that it is a part of your body. You will have to taper off of it or the least it will do is send you into cardiac arrest.” Woodrue stood slowly.

“When do we leave?” he asked.

Bane stood. “Right now.”



Isla lay on the chaise lounge on the balcony. The day was warm in comparison to the days past. Clouds were making way for sunlight and blue sky and all around were the sounds of ice and snow melting. It was still cold and she was bundled in a warm coat and scarf, watching the men training down in the courtyard. It had been over three weeks and there had still been no word from Bane. She feared constantly that he was dead. Her chest constricted at the thought of him.

She heard the bedroom door open and knew immediately that it was Barsad. Aside from Bane, he was the only one who had the key.

“Isla?” he called.

“I’m outside, Barsad.” she called over her shoulder.

He walked out, took a seat across from her and pulled his hat off. “I came to see if you were hungry. Coop made lunch .” he said.

Isla shook her head. She had lost her appetite and scarcely eaten in the last week. “I’m not hungry.”

“Coop also told me that if you didn’t eat, he would come up and force-feed you.” he replied. Isla smirked, but laid her head back down.

“Tell Coop I said thanks, but I’m just not hungry.”

“Isla, this isn’t healthy. You need to eat to keep up your strength. When Bane returns-”

Isla’s head shot up. “Have you heard-”

Barsad shook his head. “But this isn’t uncommon. There have been times where he and I were unable to reach anyone for months. It’s just a part of the job.” he said.

Isla’s face fell and she laid her head back down, focusing once more on the men below. Barsad sighed and sat back in the chair.

“You haven’t been out of your room in a week. You haven’t been eating.”

“Tell Coop to send the food up…” Isla stood. “I’m going to take a bath. Lock the door behind you, would you?” She walked through the doorway and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.



Barsad locked the door and made his way to the stairs. He stopped short when he saw Victor making his way up.

“Victor? Can I help you with something?” He asked, tucking the key in his pocket. Victor looked over his shoulder at the locked door.

“Its Bane. He has sent orders.” he replied.

Barsad nodded. “Let’s go then.” Together they made their way down to the lobby where the men had gathered.

“Gentlemen, we have been sent word. Three groups of five will be sent to three different locations to acquire supplies. The rest of you will be put to work readying an appropriate work room for Woodrue.” Victor stood on the stairs, looking down at the men as he spoke.

“Neytanu, Perez, Johnston, Weilen, and Gibbs. You will be going to California. Here is the list of supplies.” He handed a list three pages long to the man name Weilen.

“Lancer, Cruz, Black, Cooper and Burosuvik. Rendezvous point is Manhattan. Barsad, Helms, Jansky, Bleich, Rausch, you’re going to Rio de Janeiro. Departure is at 2300. Each group will be flown to a separate departure point. Retrieve all supplies listed, failure is absolutely not an option.” Barsad was immediately suspicious when his name was called.

“These are Bane’s orders?” Barsad asked. Victor crossed his arms, staring at him.

“They are.”

“His exact orders?”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Is something on your mind, brother?”

Barsad exhaled sharply before walking towards the kitchen.



Isla had been soaking in the large tub for some time, dozing to the bluesy hypnotic voice of Ray LaMontagne. A hot wet cloth covered her face. She heard the door to the bedroom close and immediately began to think about the food that no doubt waited in the next room. Her stomach grumbled in response to her thoughts but she refused to get out of the hot water. Steam billowed into the air, fogging the mirrors and glass shower.

“You are a sight to behold. I can see where Bane get his infatuation.” Isla sat up with a start, pulling the cloth from her face. Victor shut the bathroom door behind him.

“What are you doing?” Isla demanded, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I brought up your lunch. I also wanted to see how you were doing. We haven’t seen you in a few days. You look thin.” he traced a finger down the fogged mirror.

“I’m fine. Is it entirely necessary for you check on me in the bath?” she snapped. Victor walked slowly towards her.

“It is…necessary.” he said, stopping inches from her. She instinctively wrapped her arms around her knees. He reached a hand out and traced his fingers over her bare shoulder. Isla scowled and jerked away.

“What are you doing?!” she cried.

“YES Victor. What are you doing?” Barsad stood in the doorway. Victor backed away towards the exit.

“I only came to update her on the newest information. Don’t you have a mission to be prepping for?” Victor said, deliberately knocking his shoulder into Barsad as he took his leave.

Isla waited until she was sure Victor had gone before she spoke. “What is he talking about?” she asked.

Barsad sighed and tossed her a robe. “Get dressed.” he walked out.

Isla got out of the tub, threw on the robe and hurried out into the bedroom. Barsad sat next to the fireplace, stoking the fire.

“Barsad?”

“I’m being called away.” he said. Isla sat down on the bed, drying her hair with a towel.

“Where?”

“Rio de Janeiro.” he replied.

“Is everyone going?” she asked. Barsad shook his head.

“Victor isn’t going, is he?” she asked. Again he shook his head. Panic washed over her.

“Are these Bane’s orders??” she asked.

“They are.”

“And he is sending you away and leaving me here with Victor?? Is Bane on his way back?”

Barsad stood. “Not as far as we know.” Isla’s eyes widened and she began to wring her hands nervously.

“Victor is becoming brazen. No one will be here to stop him-” Barsad reached behind his back and produced a 9mm pistol.

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked, placing the gun in her hands. She shook her head.

He pressed the button on the left side of the hand grip, ejecting the magazine. “This is how you reload. Once it’s full,” he firmly pushed the clip back into the grip. “shove it in until it clicks in place. You follow me?” he asked.

Isla shook her head. “I can’t do this-” he cut her off.

“Well you have no choice. This is your only defense so pay attention.” he snapped, kneeling in front of her. “This is the safety. If you’re going to shoot, this can’t be on. You have to push it down do disengage it.” He pushed down the safety.

“Pull back the slide to load the bullet into the chamber and you‘re ready to kill.” He slid it back. “Don’t aim it unless you are going to use it.” He disarmed the gun and handed it to her.

The gun felt heavy and cold in her hands. She stared at it, going over his directions silently.

“Show me.” he said, standing up. Isla pressed the button on the grip, releasing the clip. She shoved it back up until it clicked. Barsad nodded his approval when she glanced up at him.

“Continue.”

She pushed down the safety and struggled momentarily, but pulled back the slide, engaging the bullet.

“Good. I would work on it often, until it becomes second nature to you. I could have killed you twice in the time it took you to engage the bullet.”

Isla smiled slightly and disarmed the gun, laying it on the mattress next to her.

“When are you leaving?” she asked.

Barsad ran his hand through his hair. “Tonight.”

Isla gave a short laugh of disbelief. “Really?” she shook her head and walked into the closet.

“He’s coming back, Isla.” Barsad called out. She stepped into a pair of black leggings and threw a large oversized gray sweater over her head.

“I’m going to die here, Barsad.” she said, walking out of the closet.

“Keep this on you at all times.” he said, handing the gun to her by the barrel.

She took the gun and let her arms hang loosely at her sides.

“I have to go now.” Isla nodded solemnly, avoiding his eyes. He turned towards the door.

“Barsad..” she called. He paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Be careful…” she said.

He nodded at her. “You too Isla.” and then she was alone.