A Life Less Ordinary

Bane sat up as he felt the vehicle jerk violently.

“Oh Shit! Oh shit!!” Isla cried, jerking the wheel. The car fishtailed across two lanes and nearly collided with the cement barrier before she regained control.

“Pull over now.” He growled. He was angry. Angry that she had may have caused undue attention, but even more angry because he had lowered his defenses and fallen asleep. It wasn’t like him.

“I’m so sorry…I don’t know what happened..” she whimpered, taking the first exit she came to. She drove until she came to a wooded area, then pulled off onto the shoulder. It was still dark outside, but the sky was showing signs of early morning. Bane stepped out of the car, opened the front door and pulled her out by the back of her neck. She cried out, covering her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. He let her go and walked around the car, looking it over.

Isla stood at the front of the car trembling and exhausted. She could feel his eyes on her as he walked up to her.

“I know exactly what happened.” He replied getting in behind the wheel. Isla stared at him, unsure of what he was going to do. The passenger door opened.

“Well?” he looked at her. She scurried into the seat and barely had the belt buckled before he drove off.

“I’m sorry…” she said quietly, looking at him warily.

“No…It was partially my fault.” Did he really just say that? He shook his head slightly at himself.

Her eyes felt heavy. ‘It was all your fault!’ She thought bitterly, letting her head rest against the window. They drove in silence until he pulled into the parking lot of a motel. He parked on the side opposite the office and turned his head ever so slightly.

“Get a room for the night. Tell them you want one on the back end of the hotel, furthest away from the highway. If they don’t have one we’ll move to the next one down the road.” He dropped a wad of cash in her lap. She gathered the cash and hurried out of the car.

He watched her as she made her way the office. He leaned his head back with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. He had so much to do, but he couldn’t concentrate with the pain from his wounds. The venom cartridge in his mask was nearing depletion and he hadn't expected to escape Gotham City alive so he didn’t grab any refills. Luckily he had stored Venom at the location where they were going. Enough to last him at least three years.

He honestly didn’t even know how he had made it out of Gotham undetected. How like amateurs to shoot someone without confirming their death. He was a prime example. He always demanded proof of the deceased.

He wasn’t feeling quite right. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he needed to rest. He rarely ever allowed himself to sleep, much less while someone else was driving. ESPECIALLY if that someone was a hostage. No, he definitely was not himself. Which is why he needed her skills.



The bell above the door rang as she pushed through into the office. It was a small lobby with blue-green walls and ugly golden picture frames on every wall. A soda machine was to her left and an old black and white dog laying on a ratty bed in the right corner.

“Hello…” Isla said sheepishly. The fat woman behind the desk gawked at her as she approached.

“My God. Are you OK?” She asked, quickly putting her coffee cup down.

Her face turned red and she knew she must have looked horrible. She forced a small smile. “It has been…a long, long night…” she heard her voice falter.

“Who did that to your eye, dear?” Fat lady gasped.

She brushed her hair out of her face. “Someone I’m trying to get away from, if you catch my meaning.”

“Do you need me to call the police?” Fat lady asked, reaching for the phone.

Isla’s heart skipped. She would love for her to call the police, but she shook her head.

“No, but thank you. The police picked him up about two hours ago. I just need a room…for the night.” she couldn’t suppress a yawn. “Preferably the furthest one from the highway that you have…I’m still pretty shaken up.”

Fat lady’s eyebrow’s came together in a wrinkle as she began to type in the computer.

“The only room I have is on the far back end. It’s a suite with a king bed, kitchen and bathroom. There’s cable TV and a fridge.” she looked at her over her bifocals.

“If it’s the only one you have…” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’ll take it.”

“You know usually I have to have ID to rent the room…I see your badge. And you look like you’ve been through hell. Don’t worry about the paper work. Room is 56.20 after taxes.”

“Thank you so much! You really don’t have to go through any trouble…” Isla handed her sixty dollars.

“No trouble at all. You just get some rest.” Fat Lady handed her the room key and her change. “Check out’s at eleven tomorrow. Call if you need to extend it.”

Isla nodded and opened the door. “Thank you again.” she said before walking out.

Once outside she shivered. The sun was up, but it was covered by thick clouds. With the low temperature, it felt like it might snow. She made her way around the corner and could immediately feel Bane’s cold eyes on her. She looked at the SUV where he waited and then walked past, to the last room at the end of the complex. She waited as he pulled the car into the parking spot and got out.

He said nothing as he walked past her into the room.

“Well…this is interesting to say the least…” He said, amused. The room was clean with red carpet. There was a little dinner table for two by the window. The kitchen had a refrigerator, microwave and gas stove. The king bed had a nice oversized white and red down comforter. And on the ceiling was an enormous mirror.

Isla sighed and shut the door, securing the locks. She suddenly felt as if she had 500 pound weights on her shoulders. “It’s all she had left. And apparently I look like a battered wife, and that is the story I fed her so she wouldn’t pry. It also got me out of having to give her my ID to secure the room so you’re welcome.”

With a grunt, he sat down in one of the chairs at the table and stared at her. She looked back at him, her eyes burning from lack of sleep. His eyes looked about as tired as hers felt.

After a full minute, she ended the staring game. Turning on her heel she walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. To her dismay, it wouldn’t lock no matter how hard she tried, giving up, she turned on the hot water in the shower full blast and stripped out of her soiled clothes. Steam filled the small room as she leaned against the sink, examining her face in better light.

Her face and neck were dirty. Oil and dirt from the trunk were smudged on her chin and nose. The skin under her eye was reddish purple with a noticeable cut and a few scratches from her run in with the tree branch. She pulled her hair up off her neck. There were Bane-sized finger prints on the skin that wasn’t covered by the collar. She also had a black bruise on her upper left arm, and another bruise around her right wrist from where he had grabbed her.

Wasting no more time, she stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water wash over her. She was so tired. Lifting the little bottle of standard hotel shampoo/bodywash was like lifting lead. Her shoulders ached as she washed her hair, then her face. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and stuck her face under the shower head.

A sob escaped her lips as she replayed the night’s events. She slid down into the tub, hugging her knees to her chest as she cried. The heat from the water soothed her aching body and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.



The bathroom door slamming brought Bane to attention. He had been staring at her without seeing her as his exhaustion set in. Now he sat, staring at the bathroom door as steam seeped from under it. He could hear her crying loudly and for some reason it bothered him. He sighed. He DEFINITELY wasn't himself.

The bed looked so inviting, teasing him. But he wasn’t used to such luxury, even though money had never been an issue for him. He was used to lurking in the dark, cold sewers and prisons. At the thought of the dark, he reached across the table and pulled the thick red curtains closed.

He took his coat off and laid it on the table, then took the gun from his belt and the detonator and placed them on his coat. He needed to think, to plan. But pain and exhaustion clogged his mind. This frustrated him to his core.

He was Bane. He was Gotham’s Reckoning, it’s liberator. He alone had devised the immaculate plan to destroy the city. He was the darkness men feared. He was known for his strength and cunningness, for his ability to lead men into revolution. But now…all he wanted was to sleep. To disappear into the shadows once more.

He looked at the clock on the wall. She had been in the shower for nearly 45 minutes. He walked to the door and listened. She was no longer crying, but the water was still running.

“Miss Sloan?” He called, knocking as gently as he could (which wasn’t very gently). When she didn’t answer, he jiggled the knob and found it unlocked.

“I’m coming in if you don’t speak up.” He said. Still no answer. He pushed the door open and was hit with a suffocating wall of steam. Her clothes were piled on the floor by the tub. “Isla?” her name sounded strange coming from his mechanical voice. Finally he grew tired of waiting and pulled the shower curtain back.

He had expected to find her dead, not curled up in a little ball on the floor of the tub. Her long black hair was plastered to her back and shoulders. He frowned as he saw the bruises he had left on her. It never pleased him to leave marks on females and he never condoned rape. It had disturbed him when she had though he was going to rape her in the stairwell. He knew his men didn’t care and had done it anyways, and he also knew that he had many a time been responsible for the deaths of women and men. But for some reason he felt a pang of pity for her.

He turned off the water. “Isla.” He tried again to wake her, but received no reply.

Sighing, he bent down and lifted her into his arms. He held her with one arm and draped a towel over her. When he turned to carry her out, he saw his reflection in the mirror. She looked tiny against his colossal frame. She was still breathing, he could feel it.

He carried her into the room, pulled back the comforter and gently laid her down, before returning to the chair at the table.