My plan had worked flawlessly, with the display of carnage I left behind, the Warden had no choice but to sign me up for the experiments with the hope of either finally being rid of me or having a superhuman bodyguard to do his bidding, and I had been put into the testing cycle far faster than normal due to the Junta's fears about me. As it turns out, citizens were far less afraid of the government now because of my constant displays of dominance, and the Junta was too afraid of simply killing me due to their fear of sparking a revolution that wouldn't end until all their heads rolled to the floor.
I was laid out on a secure medical table as doctors and nurses scurried around the room getting prepared, and while there was some nervousness in their body-language, I could see the excitement in their eyes at the possibility of someone like me being given Venom. What nobody else knew was that a large percentage of the medical team was now firmly in my pocket, and that Zombie was far more loyal to me than fearful of the Warden, which meant that the secondary head of the team conducting experiments was actually one of my most loyal retainers.
The testing of Venom in this world was a bit more complex than in the comics, because "Venom" as most comic-fans would know it hadn't truly been invented yet due to the dangers involved. The first test of Venom-1.0 was a muscle injection (the least effective method) which allowed for a five-times strength increase, but the effects quickly left the body and were not "super" enough to satisfy the Junta or the medical team. The second test was a direct-injection of Venom into the brain via a very small port installed into the subject's skull, which caused the effects to last longer, but put greater stress onto the brain and body as a result of the area being injected. The Third test was a muscle injection of the undiluted/"pure" form of Venom (which most just called Venom-1.5), which allowed a short burst of strength multiplied by a factor of ten, and the fourth was a direct-injection into the brain with the newest formula which was the Venom most fans would be familiar with, even if it was a bit crude by comparison.
Out of fifty prisoners that were tested, only twenty survived the third test, and those that made it to the fourth and lived were left so broken mentally as to be better described as vegetables than people. If I wanted to get out of this prison, I needed to reach the fourth stage of testing and survive, and if I got out I needed to decide what I wanted to do afterward... but for now I had to brace myself.
The far door opened, and a man in medical scrubs and glasses walked in carrying a clipboard and a cup of coffee. Dr. Randolph Porter was a tall and thin man, who had once worked in the United States military trying to make super-soldiers the likes of which fought in World War Two, but had found his low pay and underfunded laboratory along with demanding and unhelpful superiors had been the straw to break the camel's back. Dr. Porter moved as close to Santa Prisca as possible and used his connections in order to establish business with the Junta members, who were all more than happy to provide the man with anything he asked so long as they had exclusive rights to the Venom formula and the final product of super-soldiers that would be produced and sent around the world as mercenaries to the highest bidders.
The man was brilliant, as evidenced by his ability to make Venom the likes of which comic-Bane later used several years ahead of "schedule", but his early success and the no-questions-asked backing of the Junta made him even more arrogant than his comic-book counterpart, to the point that not only did he require an entire team of people to help him do his job... but he didn't even notice that their allegiances had firmly shifted over to my side of thinking.
"Alright boys and girls, let's see if we can't make history today. Is the machine calibrated?" a nod from a nurse met his question "Good, let's get started."
A large machine attached to ceiling began to descend closer to me, multiple arms holding needles filled with the green liquid known as Venom getting closer to each of my major muscle groups before stopping only inches away.
"Begin injection process in five... four... three... two... one... now." The needles descended, and pierced my flesh down to the muscle.
The feeling was unlike anything I'd ever felt, like being doused in icy water while having molten rock poured into every vein and artery in my body left me shaking in my restraints like I was having an epileptic fit...
And then I felt it... the power inside the pain. The pain would make me stronger, and in turn give me the power to cause pain to all those that thought themselves above me. The strength to crush stone and bend steel flowed from my neck down to the soles of my feet, leaving me with a simultaneous high that was trying to numb me from the excruciating pain I felt in every fiber of my being.
The medical team looked at their charts and screens, calling out numbers and status related to my body and it's functions, before Dr. Porter finally decided that the test had been successful and that I would be scheduled for the surgical procedure required for a brain-injection tomorrow... meaning I'd likely begin entering the withdrawal-pains some time before that.
As I was wheeled out of the room I could see Zombie memorize the formula's full sequence when Dr. Porter wasn't looking, and noticed him give me a nod of both confirmation of his success, and solidarity to the pain I'd be going through in the next twenty-four hours.
That did leave me with a question though: When I get out, I could hold the monopoly on Venom even better than in the comics, which would grant me strength unmatched by many... but was that worth it?
Sure, I could hold onto Venom tightly, but I could just as easily distribute it around the world, or even just give it to "normal" people I knew would use it for good like Batman or Green Arrow whenever the world needed to be saved and Superman wasn't nearby. By doing that, I would be freeing myself up to actually put my mind and body to work actually fixing problems that plagued the world, rather than being a superhuman babysitter for a planet of adults that should know better... with my Bane-Brain™, I may not cure cancer single-handedly, but I could sure as shit push the field of study forward by at least two decades, which many could argue was for more beneficial to the world than me dressing in a costume and punching thugs in the street.
As I was wheeled back into the private cell within the medical wing, under the watchful eye of Birthday Boy's handler, I could already feel the extreme fatigue settling into my body as I sat in the dark of my cell... and I knew I needed advice.
*****
Bird watched as Trogg worked on a small device with a soldering-pen, engrossed in his task with the fevor of an artist painting a church... or a blacksmith arming a knight.
But Bird couldn't sit calmly by like Zombie and Trogg, especially when his work in Bane's plan was finished for now, which made him all the more jittery and nervous.
He wanted to be useful to Bane, because the guy actually gave a shit about everyone trapped in here. Bird grew up in Gotham, so he'd been used to being surrounded strong and scary people all his life, but the difference between them and Bane was the cult-of-personality that he had... Bane had no reason to lie to anyone or break his promises, because he was just that damn good at keeping his word. Call Bird a fanboy, if you wanted, but the fact of the matter is that Bane was unlike anyone else he'd ever met and every time an obstacle was placed in front of him the man seemed to overcome it by entire orders of magnitude, and making every trial or bad event in your life seem small by comparison.
A boy raised in the world's toughest prison, who cheated death at every turn, and then had plans to free not only his fellow prisoners, but the rest of the country from a corrupt government... it made Bird think back on the life he lived in Gotham. Every day was a struggle, every street was dangerous, but at least Thomas Wayne was cleaning things up and doing his best... and then he was gunned down by some random punk, and the whole city went down the drain with him, because they realized that even the best of them could be snuffed out at any moment.
But not Bane. Bane was almost more than a man, he was like a machine, something that couldn't really die, but more be damaged and then subsequently improved. With Bane, there was no fear of him going the same way as Thomas Wayne, a good man taken by a random act of violence, and instead inspired respect and fear wholesale across the spectrum.
Perhaps it was also the idea that Bane represented? Bird had grown up on the streets, been involved with crime since he was out of diapers, and then made his way into law-school on a mobster's dime so that he could lie and exploit every loophole there was to keep true scumbags out of the cells they deserved to be in. For years he ruined people's lives, and the money didn't fill the hole he felt in his chest every time he helped some corrupt company or hitman get off on technicalities, and the final straw came when some animal had raped a woman right in the middle of the street and then cut her throat from ear-to-ear... nobody had stopped the guy, and because his uncle was a corrupt police Captain, Bird's boss had given him the case and told him to "make this go away".
That girl's family couldn't make it go away, they didn't even have the money to get a greasy schmuck lawyer, much less a guy who could handle Bird, and they had to live the rest of their lives knowing that their daughter not only died with nobody helping her, but that somebody was trying to get the sick bastard off the hook for it. Listening to the mother's sobbing was hard, seeing the life slowly draining from the father's eyes as the case went on was worse, but the final straw was seeing the little brother look over at the scumbag (and Bird right beside him) and figure out that his sister wouldn't be getting justice today and just... giving up.
Bird imagined that's what he himself looked like all those years ago, when his folks had died in a drive-by and nobody stood up for them, and that's when Bird flipped. He did everything in his power to get that scumbag locked up for the rest of his life, and then turned over every last speck of info he had to the Feds, crippling multiple crime-families for months or even years, and so they sent him here to rot or die like a fucking dog in return.
But Bane... he didn't tolerate that sort of thing, and when Bane spoke, people listened. Everyone knew the rules once they got out of here: no stealing, no murdering, no rape, no trafficking, and no selling drugs to kids. You'd think that trying to set such rules for people in the world's toughest prison would be met with dismissal or even outright derision, but people knew Bane wasn't joking, and people knew that Bane was only giving the warning once because he respected you enough to even say it out loud in the first place. And so, the rules were followed in Pena Duro, and not the Warden's rules or El-Presidente's, but Bane's... only Bane's.
When Bane asked you to jump, you didn't ask him: "How high?", you just jumped higher than you ever have before, because you wanted to give your best... and if you didn't want to, then because you knew what might happen if you didn't.
Bird watched as a few prisoners discreetly made signals to each other from across the room, before making signals to two nearby guards. The guards gave confirmation by looking away and pretending to be distracted by a game of dice nearby, allowing the two prisoners to close in on each other, with the first man quickly passing a small wrench into the hands of the second who traded a shiv in turn. The first man then looked to the second for conformation, received a nod... and then promptly stabbed the second man in the side with the shiv.
The guards were quick to break it up and subdue the first man, while the two guards loyal to Bane grabbed the second and pretended to frisk him before dragging him off to the infirmary, but not before giving a nod to Bird and the first man. The fourth stabbing this week, and each time the guards had been quite lax in their searches, especially considering that the infirmary cells were right below a minor armory with only a few metal panels between them, but... you'd need a tool to get those panels out, so to the guards and the Warden it was probably entirely benign.
Bird gave a nod and resumed his pacing of Trogg's cell as the man worked. "You really should drink some tea or read a book." The short and hairy tech-wizard said.
Bird looked over and was about to toss an insult before deciding to hold his tongue on that end, deciding instead to ask a question. "Is that almost done?"
Trogg welded a small panel onto the back of the object before holding up to the light for the both of them to see. It was a small metal box no bigger than pack of cigarettes, made of stainless steel and connected to a long translucent tube with a small needle-like prong at the end of the tube, and at the opposite end was a glove with a set of small buttons and dials set slightly above the wrist.
Spoiler
The final piece was a mask of black cloth with marks of white and red lenses in the eyes, all coming together to make a visage similar to the old masks executioners used to wear, but to the people in the prison and the rest of the country... it would be a symbol of defiance, strength, and a second chance at living. Trogg pressed a few of the buttons and turned one of the dials, causing a pressured hiss to be released from the metal box and down the hose, which was now connected to the back of the mask. "It's a rough prototype, but it will serve it's purpose while Bane fights for us all... I just hope it's enough."
Bird placed a hand on his friend's shoulder in a show of solidarity, remarking that Bane would pull through even if he only had two sticks and a rock, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but worry about the youngest prisoner in Pena Duro, and prayed that his hope wasn't misplaced.
*****
Sitting in my private cell in the infirmary for the past few days was arguably worse than being put in The Hole, mostly due to the after-effects of Venom on my mind and body, where I was wracked with horrible spasms and headaches that left me feeble and weak and the craving for more made me feel like little more than a starving dog... but the worst part was the hopes that my brothers and sisters in chains were not running into any problems without my oversight, and yet being almost totally helpless even if they were.
Tomorrow was the day. The day where I'd be given Venom-1.5 via the induction port in my skull, and I'd either lose my mind to the drug, or I'd stand head and shoulders above all other men for the rest of my days, and yet I couldn't help but feel some trepidation.
The door to my cell was quietly opened and closed, barely a sound passing into the hallway, where Victor Reznov pulled a chair over to me and set beside my bed without a word. I'd called him here to speak, and I think he knew in some way that I needed advice on the eve of our escape to help keep me centered.
We exchanged pleasantries, I gave him his final orders for tomorrow, and we sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two before Reznov finally spoke up. "You seem troubled my young friend, like there is a great weight pressing down on your mind, would you like to discuss it?"
I gave a single shaky nod, and for the first time I could see Reznov's face soften just a tad, to his eyes I was sixteen year old boy strapped to a medical bed as random spasms wracked my body and my bloodshot eyes tried to focus in the dark of my cell. To me I was somewhere between delirious with pain, and lucid from the Venom, but not alltogether sure of my reality.
"I served in the army of the Motherland during the war, leaving my home to fight the fascist Nazis upon the fields of my country, and I grew to see all my fellow soldiers as brothers in all but name, as we shed blood, sweat, and tears together for the sake of our people. I found lifelong friends in some of the darkest moments of the war, and even fought alongside both The Captain and Wildcat in Stalingrad, and The Boss and Hourman at Berlin against the monsters and machines the Axis had developed to cover the world in darkness."
I looked up at him, his voice helping to give me something to focus on that wasn't the soul-crushing pain coursing through my body.
He continued, "I watched as my friends fell all around me because the Nazis were so much stronger than ourselves, and watched as Americans in costumes had to be the ones to save us in our darkest hour, but I do not hold blame upon them, for they had to follow orders like the rest of us... back when I still believed in orders. You want to know if you should keep the power for yourself (and the responsibility attached), or if you should share it with the world, yes?"
I gave a nod, compelled to give the man my full attention. "My father was a musician in Stalingrad. During the German occupation, the sound of his violin filled the air with magnificent music - Korsakov, Stasov - many of the great nationalist composers. To my countrymen, it was a symbol of hope. To the Germans, it was a symbol of defiance. Even now, his music still haunts me. The Nazis slit his throat while he slept. Collaborating with any Nazi is a betrayal, a betrayal against all of Mother Russia."
He went on to explain his relationship with Dragovich and Kravchenko, and while I already knew it, I did not interrupt, this wasn't a character before me now... but a man who had seen the darkest sides of humanity. He told me of his friendship with Wildcat and Dimitri Petrenko during the siege of Stalingrad, and how the three of them fought machines and monsters and super-weapons of the Reich side-by-side, even in the face of death they did not turn back or slow down, always and ever forward.
As he spoke I listened in raptured silence, his words spoken from every fiber of his soul, and as he went on to explain Nova-6 I felt my blood turn cold. "Dimitri Petrenko was one of the bravest men I had ever known. He fought by my side from the siege of Stalingrad to the fall of Berlin. The wounds he sustained ensuring our victory should have earned him a hero's welcome to Russia... But Stalin had little need for heroes. We have found what we're looking for... Nova 6. The German weapon of mass destruction now belonged to Mother Russia. Or so it seemed. Our victory was to be short lived. Dragovich wanted to see the effects of the poison first hand. It was also a opportunity to remove a thorn in his side. I had long known of their distrust. What kind of men they were. It was a betrayal I should have foreseen."
He looked at me from the shadows, and his eyes burned with rage, a rage so great that it made mine feel like dying embers by comparison. "Dimitri Petrenko was a hero... He deserved a hero's death. Instead of giving his life for the glory of the motherland, he died for nothing... like an animal. He should have died in Berlin... and as I watched my closest friend die, it became clear we were not the only one's seeking the German weapon. The Western allies circled like vultures... Of course, Dragovich, Kravchenko and Steiner scattered like rats - leaving me to contend with the British."
He went on to explain his destruction of Nova-6, and that while he had destroyed the last of the supply of that terrible weapon, those three would still be trying to make more and sell it to the highest bidders. And in turn, I told him of my "visions" of the future, a world where madmen and monsters and aliens terrorize people, and the few who stand against the tide of evil are treated with suspicion and fear until the moment they die for a world that does not want them. I tell him of my feelings on being an overgrown babysitter to the world, and how my skills could best be used elsewhere, and asked him if that feeling was well founded.
"You considered that giving this "Venom" to the world may be the best solution, but that is in the view of a perfect world... and we do not live in a perfect world my friend. People may change their ideals and agendas, but a nation's can change far more quickly and violently than any individual ever could, and what was once a tool of peace could later become a weapon of war, and the people and countries that we shared our glory with can just as quickly be our enemies with little provocation. Can you honestly trust the leaders of the world to use it only when needed... or you think they will use it whenever it best suits them? The flag may be different but the methods are the same. They will use you and your gift, as they used me... you must decide... decide what you think is worth fighting for... Dragovich... Kravchenko... Steiner... These... "men"... and others like them, must die."
He stared into my eyes, never once wavering in his gaze, and in that moment I knew the truth of the matter. Cadmus, the KGBeast project, the suspicious death of the original Hourman and the termination of the JSA by the US government, and the idea of men like Luthor, Savage, or Ra's al Ghul having the ability to manipulate governments into using Venom like the world's next superweapon, made any dreams of a "perfect" Earth where even normal heroes and soldiers like Batman and Green Arrow were capable of fighting on even-footing with the many monsters in the universe were just that... dreams. No substance, and no reality.
I couldn't trust the world to use my gift responsibly, just as I could not expect the people of Santa Prisca to fight against the military all on their own. The idea was nice, but the reality of it all made it next to impossible in a world even close to the one I came from, much less one where evil actively set itself against the world and the people in it.
Reznov leaned in close enough for me to see every speck of color in his eyes, and the remaining bits of Venom in mine. "So... do you know what must be done my young friend? And do you have the conviction to see it through to the end?"
I held my breath for a few moments, focusing every ounce of control I had to cease my tremors, before looking into his eyes with the same fervor he showed to me.
"I. Am. Bane."
Reznov smiled, "Welcome to the revolution... brother."
*****
The final test was every bit of pain I had expected, and while I did nearly die at one point, I survived long enough to understand the feel of this new Venom, before I used every bit of control I had to slow down my heart on the operating table... slower... slower... and slower still. Until even the advanced medical equipment couldn't track my heart's beating rhythm, which had convinced them that I was now no longer in the land of the living.
Just as I planned, the Warden did not want my body to serve as a martyr for the prison, so he ordered me tossed into the sea like someone's trash, and for the first time since I'd come here, I was free.
The sky was dark with thunder and lightning, but I could see the sky for the first time in years outside my own mind, and the cold ocean water was a welcomed friend as the sharks curiously swam around me, realizing that I was not dead, and thus likely not food.
The cliffs near Pena Duro were almost three hundred feet of distance from the water to the top, and would have been a difficult climb even with equipment... but my fists punched through stone like paper with the power of Venom, and so I began to rise from the waves little-by-little.
~ A man will come
To start a fire
Your shining cities
Will become your pyre
Rise from the shadows
Make a fist of the pain
Rise from your grief
Before it grows into your bane
Climb from the prison
That you've built in your soul
When the knight has arisen
Then your legend will be whole ~
As I finally reached the top, it was to find a sealed bag pelted by the wind and rain, and within... my new face awaited me.
Sneaking into Pena Duro was difficult, but I knew every dark corner and shadow within, and thus I was invisible to the eyes of those blinded by greed and cruelty.
When the huge metal doors leading into the mines were blown inward, the guards and prisoners all stopped to stare, as the red emergency lights activated and bathed me in their glow before my people.
I tossed bags laden with weapons to the prisoners around me. "Every great journey begins with a single step, and this... is STEP ONE!"
The bellowing response was immediate. "Secure the keys!" they screamed, shaking the prison to it's foundations.
The few of the Warden's loyal guards came bursting through to the mining hub with guns drawn, and as I turned towards them I activated the device strapped to my arm, causing the neon green liquids to flow upward to the back of my skull.
And before them was no longer a prisoner... before them stood only...
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