Gold-Hearted Heroics

March 09, 2017:

(Continues from
Bane makes a report of his failed assassination and a gold-hearted every-man tries to intervene.

Toothpaste Factory in Gotham


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The mission to assassinate Sanji was not a success, but nonetheless, Bane is bound by honor to stand and deliver before those that requested the job. As is typical for any task Bane undertakes that involves potential repercussions with government forces, there is an up front fee for taking the mission, along with a payout at a third party location so Bane may file a report. This is for a myriad of reasons, such as negotiating for another mission with his contractor, informing them of conditions that developed, being given information vital to his best interests, or ensuring that he is an honest mercenary. Bane does not truly, in his deepest mind, consider anyone other than himself to have the same entity in consciousness that he does, this is merely a test of honor to survive the gears of society that turn around him in the prison that Venom trapped him in.

Outside a toothpaste factory in Gotham City, beneath the post witching hour sky and within the eyesight of the city's watchful stray cats, a black limosuine waits, with an Italian mobster sitting inside, along with a mob attorney. The mobster is a soldato nicknamed 'Hands', because of his large fingers from playing football much of his life and doing steroids, the man sent to deal with the financial issues, and the lawyer is the typical mobster grifter barrister, a man that went to law school to argue with people and foment distress, and ended up working in the Mafia to pay off his loans. Being a lawyer is about being a legal architect, not disrupting society, as so many smart but rebellious kids figure out too late.

Bane slowly walks towards the factory through the night, the snowflakes lightly lofting from the sky as his boots crunch over the slick, wet sleet on the ground. He wears a trenchcoat, carrying a briefcase.

Here's a cat, there's a cat, and another little cat,
Tabby cat, calico cat, kitty, kitty… ninja

Cutting through another alleyway, two orange cat eyes rise up from normal cat height as a black silhouette detaches itself from the shadows. The ninja at the apartment has followed the hit-man and it may have taken a few wrong turns in the process, but she's finally caught up. A healthy cloud of white condensation spills out from her mouth as she pants quietly to catch her breath. Yes, she ran, and yes, her otherwise pitch black gi is marred with a smear of snow on her backside. Sandals were never meant for ice.

Creeping along behind the tower of luchador muscle, her feet slide more than step across the snow and ice, moving almost silently as she continues her pursuit.

Inside the factory Midas works his magic. All of his clothes are baggy as usual, with a pair of thick gloves to cover over those bandaged hands. Bobbing his head side to side as hundreds of toothpaste tubes roll past he whistles loudly to himself the Andy Griffith show theme, his shoulders raising and lowering as he dots the tops of the tubes to show they've passed Q-A. He's got his rubber stamp in his left hand, and a pile of denied toothpaste tubes to his right.

The limosuine's door opens, and Hands slips out, before the lawyer follows. They're both wearing suits, Hands a stocky man with white hair, and the lawyer a slim man with delicate hands and a shock of closely hewn black, curly hair, and a pair of glasses atop his eyes. They both look at Bane, the lawyer distinctly bothered by him, while Hands waves as if Bane is an old highschool chum. "Bane!" the soldato greets leaning backwards as he spreads his arms. "Paisan!" The lawyer nods at Bane, adjusting his glasses from the side, as he looks between the two of them, picking up the proper way to deal with Bane from the way the two other men interact.

"Hello, Mister Hands," Bane says, with a faint Latin accent, as he continues to slowly approach, nothing at all altering about him other than the movement of his jaw and his Adam's apple as he speaks. "As previously agreed to, I am here to report." He comes to a halt fifteen feet away, a shadow cast behind him from the factory's outer lights. "Sanji the Scorpion lives, there was a fluke variable in the operation. Other than that, everything went to according to plan."

The soldato visibly sweats. "That bat?"

Bane shakes his head slowly, and the soldato relaxes, the lawyer exhaling a sigh and running a hand along the side of his head.

As Bane reaches the limousine, the ninja ducks behind a corner again. A little camera peeks out from her sleeve and clicks as she photographs the group, her hood poking out around the corner.

Closer to the factory now, the black of her outfit is becoming less of a help as the building lights reflect off the white snow littering the ground.

Midas has been working a long shift already, and things seem to be finally going his way. He's whistling while he works mind drifting to things like what kind of costume he's going to make for himself, what kind of super heroic background he'll come up with. "Something cool, and original like" He says to himself suddenly while pulling a misshapen toothpaste tube off the conveyer. "I don't know… uh …. Helping an alien, or uh maybe escaping some planet right before its dest-" He cuts himself off, clapping his hands together with a smile. "Oh man I've got it: Radioactive golden scarab"

His eyes catch the clock, and he motions over towards it, before nodding to his backup check down the line. It's time for his smoke break, and he's got every intention of taking it. He'd been a hard smoker before this whole thing went south, a pack a day if not more. He reaches into his pocket, fumbling for a beat up pack of off brand cigarettes, he pulls one out. As he sticks it into the corner of his mouth, while pushing open that back door it turns to solid gold in small waves. It wasn't easy going cold turkey, but he didn't exactly have a choice. A low sigh escaping his lips as he fumbles for a lighter, trying to light it even though he knows there's no use, not yet seeing the interaction just a few feet away.

As the factory's backdoor opens, Bane slowly turns to look at Benjamin, watching him without any movement or indication of judgement, one way or the other. Hands, meanwhile, turns about, looking at Benjamin and flicking his hand outwards, holding his thumb against his other fingers in a gesture of disapproval. "'ey! Mind your own business, ya dumb goomba!" the soldato chides Midas. The lawyer turns his head away reflexively, so Benjamin doesn't see his face, as the soldato continues. "We're tryin' to talk here, smoke that somewhere else!"

Bane's hand slowly curls harder around the briefcase in his hand, as his mouth quietly moves into a hard frown.

*click, click*

The ninja ducks out of sight again after taking a couple more pictures and dares to move a little closer, spying a freight truck parked nearby. She eyes it longingly but waits a moment to see how the gold-colored distraction will pan out…

The thief does a double-take, staring at Benjamin's outfit. Okay, that's a lot of gold color.

There's a long moment of a deer in the headlights look in those solid gold eyes of Bens. The lighters flame dances in the night glinting off his gold. In the corner of his mouth the cigarette wobbles for a moment before clattering to the ground, with the sound of metal hitting old brick.

In his mind he's already running right ahead and clobbering the lot of them, doing backflips and tricks and getting some pretty awesome publicity while he's at it taking these punks down a peg… in actuality he's frozen to the spot in fear just looking right ahead his mind going blank.

He tries to stammer out speech, his big heroic remark, but instead it just comes out "S-stah- steh" Trailing off completely as his eyes remain wide, the overweight greek man stuck planted to the spot voice cracking. "Staaaa" His hands already shaking as he gets a look at the briefcases and the limo. "Staaa"

Hands throws his hands in the air, shouting, "Go! Go! Go!" at Ben, waving his arm and pointing at the door he just emerged from. Bane, meanwhile, walks towards the lawyer and hands over the mysterious briefcase, before moving around the limosuine. He slowly walks towards Ben, the mountain of muscle not making any threatening movements, other than simply walking. "Good sir, it is recommended, for your health, that you quit smoking," Bane states simply, stopping in place and putting his hands on his hips, showing off his muscular arms and torso as his muscles are pulled taut over his skeleton.

A million thoughts run through his head: What would Iron Man do? Batman? Hulk? Plastic Man? Captain America? Green Lantern? Green Arrow? He doesn't have any of their skillsets, powers, or even convictions. All he has at the moment is a complete and total flight response trying its damnedest to kick in, and a feeling that he's about to be beaten half to death.

Midas reaches down to his glove, and pulls it off to the ground as the big man looms ever closer. The middle-aged Greek, shrinking down, not through magic but through simple fear at the sight of the seemingly 40 story tall man before him. He doesn't know what to do or think, so instead as he throws a single punch he just screams "Excelsior," The force of the punch barely even that of a toddler, his fist simply setting there against the leather for a moment his eyes closed.

The harness attaching Bane's Venom pump to his back scintillates into gold, Bane barely registering the fact as he's touched. He feels the backpack shift, however, and bares his teeth at the unexpected play. "You have chosen incorrectly, amigo," Bane says very quietly, but very firmly. The soldato, meanwhile, slaps his hand on his forehead and curses in Italian, before hustling the lawyer into the limo. The soldier shakes his head sadly, as if he's just witnessed a ballplayer blow his entire career.

Bane swings his right arm out, directly at the side of Benjamin's head, hand open, with a slap. It's nothing too hard or aggressive, Bane is just using his bulk to leverage Benjamin off his feet, assuming Benjamin isn't fast enough to counter the blow.

With the grace and speed of a beached whale Ben attempts to parry, but it's like fighting a child. The complete untrained ineptitude of the moment as he tries to play it tough only sending him tumbling down hard to the ground as Bane's fist makes contact with the skin of his face.

Midas makes hard contact with the ground, a pile of trash in the alleyway. Where his face touches refuse it slowly shifts in waves turning gold, color reflected by the light of his small bic lighter.

The curly hair which is also struck by the impact instead of simply bending out of the way breaks off completely like thin strands of hard gold impacted by the blunt force of even that light attack. The matted spot left behind is a clear indicator that indeed Midas had been struck.

Bane observes the effect contact with Midas has on the trash, including his hair. "Am I going to have to do more?" he asks, with his soft Latin brogue quite evidently meant to intimidate, as the soldato watches from near the limosuine. Bane turns his head to regard the made man, waving his left arm heavily. The wave of the arm on the bracer he wears for his Venom causes his harness to shift uncomfortably, causing Bane to wince as he feels the tube in the back of his skull tug very faintly. Bane looks back, down at Midas. "I am already very displeased."
The soldier slides into the limosuine and slams the door shut, clearly angry at the entire situation, and the limosuine quietly shifts into gear and pulls out of the lot, towards the street, increasing in speed cautiously until it reaches the road. It slides to a halt, blinker flicking on for a right turn.

Midas rubs the side of his face, that cold air flowing through the alleyway blowing around the now solid gold sheets of paper. The wind had been knocked from his sails in a single blow. He tries to come back to a stand, placing his hand down hard, refusing to stay down for long, but manages to fall right back face first into the now solid gold trash.

"I'm just going easy on you" He mutters into the trash barely above a whisper. "If I wanted you'd be out already…" He flips himself over to look up at bane. "I'm j-just giving you a chance to turn yourself in."

As the limosine leaves, the ninja slips out from her hiding place and pads across the snow towards the pair. Her black outfit fades into view as she nears the factory lights and she pauses once she's in earshot with a hand on her hip.

Bane merely stands above Midas, resolute. "I broke Batman's spinal column." Just a simple, honest statement, at the suggestion he turn himself in. "I had a quarrel with him. I have no quarrel with you." He slowly turns his head as he sees Nerina come into view, watching her through his read goggles.

"Well uh I was bitten by a radioactive alien." It just comes out of Midas' mouth, and from the moment he says it, he feels like a complete idiot. More so then he already did laying in the trash. It was the only thing that came to mind. He slowly pushes himself back up against the wall, trying to use the opportunity to shove himself to a stand. His heart is racing, and his mind is skipping around, breathing heavy on the edge of hyperventilating.

Two slitted eyes look right back. The ninja doesn't flinch under the lens of Bane's gaze. "Then maybe you should spend some time with me," she interrupts, a female voice and relatively young.

Her gaze turns to Benjamin, the gold-colored trash and the discarded golden cigarette. "And you should forget everything you've seen tonight," she suggests, a Russian accent bleeding into her words.

Bane looks back at Midas, shaking his head slowly in disapproval. "You are a Greek legend working in a factory. You cannot even read a newspaper." He turns about, walking away from Midas, although he keeps his right arm to the side, his boots crunching over the sleet and snow. He listens carefully, to see if Midas follows.

t"How can I help you?" Bane asks the woman, evaluating her quietly. Faster than him, and with his harness turned to gold, it is too dangerous to use Venom.

Midas may be winded and already bruised but he leans to one side taking one last jab towards the giant. In a very quiet voice just above a whisper in the hopes he doesn't turn around and break his spine. "Yeah, that's right, run." Still just as quiet. "You won't soon forget the day you tussled with the great Midas." He strikes a slight pose in place. He speaks up a bit louder.

"And I can read a news paper, I just choose not to." Gaining a bit of confidence in himself from surviving what will no doubt tonight at the bar turn into a no holds bar face to face with Bane who he easily defeated after a single punch.

About a foot shorter and much lighter, in black on black and black, outwardly the ninja doesn't offer much to see. She's not carrying a weapon holster of any kind but it might be dangerous to think she's truly unarmed.

"Call me curious," the young woman answers vaguely. "I've never seen 'The Bane' in action, but I think the whole city heard you tonight."

Her eyes fall back on Midas and narrow dangerously as they stare down at him. "You *will* tell no one what you saw tonight… da?"

Bane shrugs his right arm to the side as Benjamin takes the jab, pivoting backwards to shove his elbow into Midas to push him away. "Cease."

He frowns at the apparent ninja, judging her to be a potential asset. "You have witnessed my work now. Occasionally, I must work in Gotham. I do not like this place, I relish the chance to do this place harm. It is an evil place, a prison run by the inmates, where fear rules the night. I was born in a place like this." He stops before Nerina, letting his arms hang at his sides as if heavy. "Except my birthplace, was honest."

Midas is in silent terror at that look for a long moment. He's not sure what to say but decides to go with a bit of honesty. "W-Well half the fun of this type of thing is setting at the bar and telling your drinking buddies." A shrug of his shoulders as he lets out a slightly nervous laugh. "And h-hey Gotham has plenty of honest people. Just the other day I met a Nigerian prince."

"I know more ways you can harm it," the ninja offers silkily. She pauses and looks back to Midas. Her mask creases in a frown.

A wooden sandal crunches into the snow beside his foot as Rusalka leans down in front of the Greek want-to-be hero, close enough that the white steam of her breath splashes against his face. Her eyes stare straight into his and she answers him, slowly.

"Do you want to keep waking up, malenkiy gus?… You. Will. Tell. No one… Daaaa?" Her head nods slowly and widely, guiding Midas towards the same motion.

Bane reaches to his double-woven denim jeans pocket and withdraws a business card, with an international phone number on it, and proffers it to Nerina, before moving past. "I only hurt things for currency or value. It is my philosophy. It is about respect." He slowly stalks off into the night, his wide soles crushing the snow as he disappears into the night.

Midas stammers for a few moments following the head motions before he just slumps over passed out. A fully grown man feinting on the spot in the middle of an alleyway out of sheer fear in that one moment of having her right in his face. He hits the ground hard, a small plume of papers going into the air as he makes impact, turning gold once they land on his face.

The ninja looks down in utter disappointment as Midas passes out. She mumbles something under her breath and shakes her head before turning back to Bane. There's a gross disparity in size as her hand reaches out to accept the business card before looking at it then stowing it in her jacket. "Then I will call."

After watching the hulking mercenary disappear from sight, Rusalka's orange eyes fall back upon Midas' prone form and a mischievous glint plays in them as she picks the golden paper up and inspects it. The paper disappears into her jacket, then the golden cigarette, then a few more are grabbed from nearby and purposefully dropped upon the man's face as the ninja giggles excitedly.

Rusalka pauses, thinking better of herself, and turns her attention to the man's pockets to look for an ID.

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