Bane had become used to your presence. As a small mercenary in the notorious Gotham City, you often flitted from unlawful business to business, making ends meet through crime. It paid well too, too well, well enough for you to keep up this dangerous lifestyle. But there was one criminal that always paid best... Bane. He had taken a liking to you, and kept you around like a housecat.

He gave you simple jobs around his safehouse, an underground lair dimly illuminated by flickering neon green lights. Tonight, your instructions were to clean his safehouse; keeping his living room, kitchen, and master bedroom clean. You couldn't even complain, the money was so good.

"Come over here," the large man grumbled, hunched over a table in his workshop. He mused over Venom blueprints, a contemplative hand on his chin. As told, you skittered over to him. The bulky, muscular man looked down at you, his gaze studying your much smaller frame.