Warnings for this chapter: This chapter is rated T for hints of violence and the beginnings of stockholm syndrome.

Warnings for this story: This story is rated M for graphic torture and violence, graphic non-consensual and consensual sex acts, as well as profane language.

I apologize for the slow updates, I'll try to post chapters more frequently starting now. The story is about to get a little bit less boring and a little bit "action"-y, which I'm excited to write. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

For several seconds she gazed with startled eyes at the unfamiliar-looking faces, and she was bewildered at what they seemed to be capable of and what they were to do.

Charlotte had been left alone for a little while, finding her mind racing with thoughts of hunger and broken bones and a man named Bane while she awaited her next encounter. To her surprise, the next time that the door to the room in which she was kept creaked open, the figure in the doorway was not that of anyone she knew; the man who stood in the doorway was of average build, greasy hair flopping upon narrow shoulders, eyes narrow and grey and weathered with age. At the same instant she was startled when another man entered the room after the first, this one younger and taller with a head of smooth blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

Charlotte perceived that the matter was taking a negative turn from the moment that the men entered the room. The older placed a brown leather messenger bag upon the ground, crouching to undo the straps and expose the contents; whilst the man went about spreading unseen tools onto the dirty ground, the blonde man whose mouth seemed stuck in a permanent smirk approached her at a slow pace. The sounds of leather boots echoing about the room encouraged Charlotte to wriggle into a sitting position, her eyes finally not shrouded and able to observe the situation.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice quieter than it had been just a day before.

The blonde man shook his head, smiling to himself and reaching back to be handed something unseen from the other. He flicked invisible dust off of his jacket, and with a deep sigh reached to circle Charlotte's wrist in his own gloved hand. She thought not to struggle like she may have in another time, the dizzying surges of hunger and blackened bruises a leash and collar around her neck. Despite her meek and downcast eyes not meeting those of the man who held her, she still found herself flinching at the sound of something clicking mechanically and the feeling of cool metal against her wrists.

She was being handcuffed, an action that she decided she would not meet with rebellion; Bane's actions were peremptory even when passed through subordinates, and her pride was not so warranted that she would allow it to cause her physical harm for a second time. Her compliance would likely please him – she was not naive enough to conclude that this would somehow save her from further pain, but she could not help but hope that her malevolent captor would decide that punishment was unnecessary when in response to obedience.

The blonde man, to Charlotte's slight surprise, said nothing to her as he gently pulled her into an upright position and led her to walk towards the doorway by the thin chains that connected her handcuffs together. Her legs were numb and felt fuzzy, and she struggled to stay upright as she followed closely behind. She took one last look over her shoulder as she left the room, noticing nothing exceptional whatsoever, despite the new perspective. The older man was still crouched on the floor and fiddling with the unknown contents of the brown messenger bag, a matter which Charlotte decided she would not concern herself with in the slightest.

"You know you're not just here by chance, right?"

It took Charlotte a few seconds to realize that the man's comment was directed at her.

"What do you mean?" she replied softly. "I know why I'm here."

The man laughed softly, sadly, and shook his head. "No, you don't understand. Something is coming, something that you don't yet understand. This isn't just about money, or even revenge."

Charlotte wasn't sure exactly what it was that the man was implying. "I'm here because of Daggett," she said carefully. "Bane already told me-"

"Bane?" the man laughed, surprised. "While all that is said of him is rumour, if one thing is certain, it is that the words he speaks to citizens of this city are not the most truthful."

A second or two after the echoes of the man's words had died away amongst the stone and metal, Charlotte began to process what she had just learned.

"I don't understand. What has he ever done to the citizens of Gotham? I'd never heard of him until now."

The blonde man shook his head. "He has done nothing yet, nothing of which they know. If I am to speak another word of this to you, I am certain that there will be repercussions, but I will tell you one last thing out of kindness to you. There is a storm coming, and when it hits, I'd be prepared if I were you."

The very first day after Charlotte's capture had been issued by the subordinates of the criminal Bane, she had assumed that he was a common criminal whose motivation for his crime was strictly monetary. In spite of all such measures the man, who only days ago had fed her and feigned mercy, took to hide his true intentions, Charlotte quickly learned that his motivation was deeper. A criminal of whose services her corrupt cousin had enlisted for a reason unknown to her, perhaps? She had reached the conclusion that she was a hostage, further enticement for Daggett to pay Bane swiftly for his services, whatever said services may be.

The blonde man's uniform was tattered, he looked famished, worn-out and reduced to a fraction of his original strength, but he nevertheless sounded truthful. He could not yet be twenty-five, and his tone was that of extensive fear. His warning of a metaphorical storm would not entice such reactions if all that the situation regarded was a businessman and his unpaid debts. Charlotte had thought about her situation reluctantly, though rationally, and then had come to a reasonable conclusion. However, she was not so certain of her conclusion at all.

The subordinate here, one who seemed of higher rank than those who had first brought her to her holding cell, seemed deeply troubled over something, the emotion on his face something much harsher than fear. With greater knowledge of Bane, perhaps, came greater terror? The sympathetic, fearful expression on his face told the woman that this man held knowledge of an event to come, something that affected not just Daggett, but somehow him instead. Perhaps the citizens of Gotham as well, which she was reluctant to believe yet sure he had implied.

"How much longer must we walk?" Charlotte asked, attempting to initiate further conversation with the man who knew so much more than she.

"Not long. We are close."

"Where are you taking me?"

The man avoided her eyes, keeping his own gazing steadily at the ground/

"Excuse me, sir?"

He sighed quietly. "Yes?"

"Will you please tell me where we are going?"

"I am not at liberty to say, please do not think about it. Pretend that you are somewhere else."

They walked onwards in silence. In very few words Charlotte had come to terms with him, acquiring disturbing snippets of information that she had no desire to believe. In minutes, they were at an opening in the sewer wall, through which they turned and walked.

In this new room there were computers, many men and a television stuck on static. It smelled of sweat and dirt. On reaching this room after her short conversation with the man, Charlotte had found herself questioning the part she played in Bane's captivity. However, she was not stupid, and knew that her asking of the question would result in the kind blonde man's death, and thus kept her gaze set steadily at her feet. She felt her handcuffs removed, and couldn't help but feel confused as to who she had had them put on in the first place. While she was not unhealthy, she could not fight off a man, let alone one with the training of these.

"I brought her to you, sir," said the man, his statement clearly not directed at any of the men who were in sight.

As if out of nowhere, Bane was suddenly there, his overpowering and intimidating presence eliminating Charlotte's last shred of equanimity and causing her to stumble backwards in fear. Her arm was quickly grabbed by her escort, whose grip was much harder than she would have expected. He was putting on a show of obedience for Bane – this fully capable man – as if he were a dog before his master.

"How knowledgable are you of the daily crises of a stock broker, Charlotte?" asked Bane, his voice sounding less human than it had before. While his voice had still frightened her, she had been alone with him, and his attempts at bringing about obedience from her without the use of strong violence were laced with soft words and strawberries. She did not know why he had not harmed her irrevocably yet, and did not care to ask, but it was clear that his apparent merciful acts were painfully false.

"I didn't work with stocks, I can't say I'm knowledgable at all," she replied shakily, confused by the question.

"Well then, you should be excited and thankful for the learning opportunity! You're about to witness firsthand what happens when they get significantly more severe."