Chapter 439 - My SI Stash #39 - This Venom Inside by Conartist223 (DCXMulticross) (2/2)

How did the 4chan format go again? MFW: my prison-buddy is Walter White, and the prison has him make drugs to fuel criminal empires.

Another thing I noticed, was the sheer diversity of the prisoners, even down to the sub-groups themselves.

There were Neo-Nazis mopping hallways alongside white-collar dough boys, Mexicans, Cubans, and Spaniards arguing over games of dominoes in typical Latino fashion, Africans and Jamaicans playing basketball with the Black Americans, some Middle-Eastern guys with tattoos I recognize as ”extreme groups” to say the least, and even a few Russians with the ol' Hammer and Sickle either inked or carved into their skin as they lifted weights.

I caught a few guys giving me nods of acknowledgement as I passed by, and from what I could remember I had been here as long as I could remember, and longer than some a_d_u_l_ts. The point being that even in prison very few have the balls to mess with a child, so at least I wouldn't have to worry about getting shived over some chicken-nuggies any time soon, but being that I look pretty white I'd have to deal with the skinheads coming around at some point.

After finally getting to my cell and Zombie offering to return with some food, I sat upon my shitty bed to think and enjoy the fact that each cell in B-block belonged to an individual person rather than pairs.

A shitty bed, a small toilet and a sink were all the features of the room beyond the single light-bulb in the ceiling, and the only items otherwise were a few extra jumpsuits on a hook, a worn teddy-bear on the ragged sheets, and a small book upon the sad looking excuse for a pillow. Looking down at the book confirmed that I was in a world where some strange sub-dialect of Spanish had been born, because the golden-colored title of the book was written in a language I knew didn't exist on Earth... on my Earth... whatever.

Titled as ”The History of Santa Prisca, and her Islands.” huh? Welp, considering I had no memories of reading this book after I got it from the extensive prison library two months ago, I might as well read this now-...

Oh...

Oh shit.

Waves of recognition washed over me along with a sense of nausea that had me breaking out into a cold-sweat.

I knew that name, and now that I had the time to think, I recognized my prisoner numbers too. They were the only things most normies and nerds knew about one of my favorite characters, and one of few good things to come out of comic-books in the 90s.

I was in the DC universe, which is already pretty bad since I don't have powers and the ”heroes” could range from violent loons to useless goobers depending on the writers, but I now knew who's body I'd taken over.

The man who was born into the world's toughest prison. The man that defeated all the odds. ”The one man that broke The Bat”.

I was stuck in the body of the one guy who crushed Batman physically, mentally, and spiritually... even if it was only for a moment.

I won't lie and say I didn't have a mild freak-out, because starting at literally the bottom of the barrel in a superhero-universe is enough to warrant it, but because I'd also been put into the body of a guy who might wake up at any moment and-... wait a minute.

Why hasn't Bane evicted me yet? Or at the very least made his presence known? From what I remember Bane had a natural control over himself and his mind soooo... oh.

Thinking back on it, Bane fell and hit his head hard enough to get some sort of vision of the future in the original story, but the injury put him into a coma which he miraculously recovered from.

What if, in this world I'd fallen into, Bane was never able to wake up? If I wasn't here in his/my body now, how long would it take before they ”pulled the plug” on the kid?

I'd been in a coma for almost two months, and I can't imagine anyone would be kind enough to keep me/him hooked up for much longer if he didn't show signs of improvement.

I've not always been the most religious man, but I spoke a small prayer for the innocent boy that had been condemned to this place for another's crime, and I cursed whoever was responsible for putting me here in his stead with as much heat as I could... but my heart just wasn't in it.

Being put into the life of a normal guy in the DC-universe? Sure, I could handle that. Get put into the body of someone who is trapped in the world's greatest prison? I'll take it on the chin like a man, can't afford to do any less.

But... getting put into the shoes of a guy who beat Batman once, and then spent the rest of his days being a f_u_c_k_i_n_g joke? I'm smart enough to know when it's time to fold em.

”Well, well, well, I'm surprised to see you up and kicking so soon amigo... you took a nasty fall.” The voice was like if ”douchbag-slimeball” had a sound, and looking over to my cell door, the view wasn't much better.

El Puerco, was a fat and ugly like a hog with a bald head and tattoos aplenty, along with a hefty nose-ring witch likely earned him his nickname.

In this version of history, Puerco had given his same offer to young-Bane of being his personal thief in exchange for protection (though with a lot more s_e_x_u_a_l undertones than I could tolerate), but instead of another prisoner interceding and causing a fight which injured Bane, the young boy had showed a hint of his future personality by flatly denying the man's proposal and telling the ”fat-piggy” to leave him alone.

Puerco had tossed Bane from a fourth-floor walkway for that.

”I was wondering if you'd like to reconsider my proposal little hombre. What do you say, let Daddy-Puerco handle all the scary things for you from now on?” The fat f_u_c_ker had one hell of a shiner from where (I assume) Trogg had clocked him, but he was taller than me by two feet and had to weigh at least a hundred and fifty pounds more at my current weight, and he was standing in front of the only exit to my cell... he must of waddled his a_s_s over here as fast as he could when he heard I was better, and was likely waiting for Zombie to leave before making his move.

I sat and measured my options for a few moments, and I knew from Bane's memories that the Warden/”El-Jefe” would likely throw me into solitary the very moment I acted out in view of his guards or cameras, Puerco being universally despised or not wouldn't change that... and I would start down the path of a steroid-abusing waste of a man who's five-minutes-of-fame would end just as swiftly and painfully as it peaked, and I would be forced to live the rest of my days as a henchman to somebody else's master-plans while fighting people whom I've respected and admired since childhood.

But on the other hand, could I really just piss this guy off enough for him to kill me and release me from this hellhole? Could I allow myself to die at the hands of such an inferior creature as this, even if it meant freedom from this place?

Could I afford to let what little was left of Bane, die with me?

A few more moments passed before I grabbed the bear, Osito, and slowly began to rise.

Puerco smiled as I came closer, at least at first, but even his limited instinct could tell not all was well. And as I stood before him, staring into his eyes with the full brunt of my hate and perhaps a bit of righteous anger from what little was left of Bane inside me, I could see his eyes begin to shake as his brain slowly caught up with what was going to happen.

The last thing he expected was for me to pull a shiv out of Osito and drive it deep enough into his c_h_e_s_t that I heard it crack a rib. He tried to stumble back, but a firm grip on his nose-ring held him steady as I pulled the blade out in a splash of blood before driving it right where I knew his liver would be. I repeated the process until he fell back onto the walkway in full view of everyone, and I began to carve the pig open with all the blase attitude of a butcher at work.

*****

People always say that Joker is the antithesis to Batman, but the people who say that don't understand either character very well.

Joker is a crazed nutcase with a fetish for poor slapstick and clown themes. He acts as if Batman represents law and order and he is chaos and anarchy.

The fact is, Bane is the true nemesis to Batman, because he is Bruce's true equal in both mind, body, and soul... but with a few key differences.

Bruce was born into wealth and love. Bane was born in captivity and hate.

Bruce had Alfred and opulence to console him at his darkest moments. Bane had only himself and the shadows that surrounded him.

Bruce traveled the world and found people to make him into Batman, and to help him succeed. Bane forged himself in the fires of a single cell, from which he was never meant to survive.

I would not become a f_u_c_k_i_n_g footnote in somebody else's story, I wouldn't sit meekly by and let someone else claim the throne as the greatest-human... even if I respected him.

And I would not let this pathetic place believe that it could ever contain me.

I would prove myself as the superior man, one who stood above all others, even if I had to beat them down myself.

And as I began to twist Puerco's intestines around his neck, cutting off the precious supply of air to his major organs... he looked up, and he saw the vision of a man beyond men.

As Puerco's eyes rolled back into his skull and his body was hung from the railing by his own guts, the last thing he ever saw... was the face of a conqueror and he whispered only one word: