Bane

November 18, 1993

Simon stared from his high back baroque chair, his lidless eyes, watching the flickering shadows dance on the cinder block cellar walls. He lowered his serpent gaze to his pets as they preened their selves, their pretty eyes fixed on him and him alone. These, his pets, the carefully selected women were hand picked from those who wronged him after his misunderstanding with that freak in the bone mask all those years ago.

Simon raised his hand to the bondage mask over his face. The thin leather was like a new face. It was the only thing he kept of his father, and what should be a disturbing revelation of Martin Bellar was a boon for Simon's unique condition.

Natashya pulled her long black locks of hair over her shoulder, stroking her thick mane of hair. Her chains rattled around her as she sat up and against the cold, rough cinder block wall, her hazel eyes locked on Simon's. Natashya Medvedeva yawned, wiping her forehead with her wrist, and cooed cutely at Simon. The others followed her lead. Doctor Melissa Kinsley shifted onto her knees, raising arms over her head as she stretched, and pushed out her chest. The assistant District Attorney for Driftwood, Cassandra Powell lay flat on her back, and stared at him with affection. Heather Mullens, his former teacher from highschool twirled her hair with a finger playfully. Beyond his three favorites, the rest of his pets sprang into motion, chains jingling pleasantly as they played.

A promise made, a promise kept.

Simon's collection varied. Blondes, brunettes. A redhead. Tall, and short alike, he collected a certain pedigree of woman. He sought women with success, power, and confidence. Education was important. In every new pet he instilled a promise. A promise made, a promise kept, so long as he could count on their cooperation.

Of course he knew they were liars.

Not forever, not even for too long a time... but newly captured prospects would say anything if they thought it would liberate them from his cellar - his keep.

They would do anything, and usually they did.

Their cooperation changed nothing, of course. He put everyone to the prod. The things he could do with a strobe light, horse tranquilizers, and a cattle prod insured their domestication.

Simon did not want to hurt them, but he needed their undying, unyielding love and loyalty. Love and loyalty took time, and Simon was in a hurry.

Of all his pets, Natashya, Melissa, Cassandra, and Heather were his favorite, and his best. This was no solely because of their beauty, but who they were.

More specifically, who they were to him.

After his little mishap with the monster in the moonlight, Simon had what Natashya Medvedeva called a psychotic break. Melissa Kinsley, the doctor who attempted - attempted and failed - to repair what of his face she could, had a hand in seeing him committed to Hillside Driftwood. Cassandra worked with the district attorney to try and condemn Simon for the death of that woman the monster in the mask killed the night that it took his face.

Now they we're his pets. They were all his pets.

Simon eyes felt uncomfortable in his face, and drew an eyedropper from his coat pocket. He removed the lid, and leaning his head back, dropped three drops in on either side. Simon rolled his eyes in their sockets as saline tears rolled out over the eyelets of his bondage mask.

The trash media called it inexorable. Unstoppable. They said it couldn't die.

Simon stared at his pets,.and sighed. "Who wants to be Daddy's favorite?"

✟ ☧ ✟

Bane stood in that familiar place atop the small hill over a dying place (...park. It's called a park).
"Be silent." Bane's whisper carried no farther than the space from his mouth to his mask.