Strictly Business (for prettyredbird)
[ When the drugs wear off, Bruce would be able to pinpoint exactly where his plans had gone awry. He's meticulous and precise and careful when it came to planning such large scale operations. There would never be room for error or miscalculation. He couldn't afford it if he was going to end Black Mask's trafficking ring.
Problem was, there had been a miscalculation. A grave one. A variable Bruce had been unable to account for and did not have the time to adapt to. That's how Bruce Wayne, who once might have been considered a respectable client here, was next up on the auction block, hands bound up tight behind him. The drugs were powerful, but Bruce was somehow still lucid enough to realize something wasn't right and if he wasn't bound good and tight, he'd have put up a decent enough fight. Roman Sionis couldn't have that. He's strong, all muscle and tall. He's handsome too. That makes him an easy product to push. Makes the prices jump considerably. They'd make a fortune.
It's hard to think through this fog. Hard to pin down where he is in relation to everyone else. Hard to know how exactly he was going to get out of this when his arms and his legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Around him, he can hear shouting. Numbers. Bids rising higher and higher. Money he would have gladly parted with himself if he could bring himself to say something. His tongue felt heavy, unwieldy in his mouth. So he doesn't say anything at all. He just looks out at the crowd vying for him. Through the fog, Bruce reaches for clarity, clings to it wherever he can find it. Behind him, he tests the restraints. He's not strong enough to try that yet. But soon.
He only needed a few more minutes. Just a few more and this would all be over. ]
Problem was, there had been a miscalculation. A grave one. A variable Bruce had been unable to account for and did not have the time to adapt to. That's how Bruce Wayne, who once might have been considered a respectable client here, was next up on the auction block, hands bound up tight behind him. The drugs were powerful, but Bruce was somehow still lucid enough to realize something wasn't right and if he wasn't bound good and tight, he'd have put up a decent enough fight. Roman Sionis couldn't have that. He's strong, all muscle and tall. He's handsome too. That makes him an easy product to push. Makes the prices jump considerably. They'd make a fortune.
It's hard to think through this fog. Hard to pin down where he is in relation to everyone else. Hard to know how exactly he was going to get out of this when his arms and his legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Around him, he can hear shouting. Numbers. Bids rising higher and higher. Money he would have gladly parted with himself if he could bring himself to say something. His tongue felt heavy, unwieldy in his mouth. So he doesn't say anything at all. He just looks out at the crowd vying for him. Through the fog, Bruce reaches for clarity, clings to it wherever he can find it. Behind him, he tests the restraints. He's not strong enough to try that yet. But soon.
He only needed a few more minutes. Just a few more and this would all be over. ]
