Single and Looking

I'm here to share my side of the story...also to talk to some babes, but I'm pretty good at multi-tasking. ;)

[markbender]

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WANT TO GET TEN GIRLFRIENDS LIKE THIS GUY?:

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[markbender]

Batbabe and Hotfit (Based on a True Story) by MarkBenderistheHottest

"Oh, Mark. You truly are the best! Thank you for saving my life!" Batgirl said, fawning over him. Her eyes sparkled with admiration for her handsome, buff as hell savior.

"Back off, hussy!" Misfit growled, kicking down the door. "He's mine! Mark Bender is a God and you don't deserve him!"

Mark knew this scenario all too well. While most men would die to be in his place, he was just exhausted! When would he catch a break? Women were always fighting over him, not realizing he wasn't just a hot babe--he was a person with real feelings! 

"Ladies, ladies. Please! I'm not even that great," Mark said, the picture of modesty.

Batgirl's eyes sprang wide. "WHAT! YES YOU ARE!!!"

"I LOVE YOU, MARK BENDER!" Misfit squealed.

Mark looked over his shoulder at the two caped crusaders, practically begging for his love. Who should he choose? 

Who really deserved him?

To be continued...

[markbender]

i'm just dicking around on this account btw lmao HAHA 

[markbender]

Mark's First Draft Letter to Zatanna:

Dear Mrs. Miss Ms. M'am Zatanna,

Hi. You may remember me from such times as: us getting shot at at the pet store, when you took my rabbit away from me, that time you didn't let me backstage and I had to honk my horn outside. Good times. Fond memories. Home is where the heart is.

I would like to get my mom a present for Christmas and I think tickets to your show would be a good present. So, please send them to me. I would prefer front row because my eyes aren't that great. Can you also call me up as a volunteer? I won't tell anyone I'm a plant.

Thanks!!!!

Mark

[markbender]

Rebel Yell || Solo

Mark had won the elections. He'd become a God amongst men. Kids in the hallway nodded at him, acknowledging the boy who made promises to have balloon fights with teachers and Pizza Fridays. The man, the myth, the legend: Mark Bender. 

On his first official day as school president, he wore his ugly brown suit. He'd gotten a jam stain on the lapel from eating one too many sweets at his Wayne Industries internship, but he'd been telling girls it was a blood stain. He was just that dangerous; it was one of the risks of taking the job as school president.

"I had to claw my way up the ranks, ladies. Literally."

One of his new duties as president was doing the morning announcement. He wanted to start off each announcement with a joke, but Werner yanked the microphone away from him because one of his jokes was too risque. What was so risque about a joke about a clown making balloon animals out of the wrong kinds of balloons? It didn't matter. He wasn't allowed to make jokes anymore, but occasionally, Mark sneaked in a funny word or two into the announcements.

On Monday, the word was butterball.

On Tuesday, the word was masticate.

On Wednesday, the word was boobies.

He was pulled from the morning announcements shortly thereafter.

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[markbender]

Grease is the Word! || Feat. Mark as Rizzo and Zatanna as Danny Zuko

"Tell me mo', tell me mo', did ya get very far. Tell me mo', tell me mo' like does he have a car?...C'mon, you know the song, dontcha? I mean, you look like that one girl from the movie. The one that thought she got knocked up," the prisoner said to Mark as he trailed him from behind. Another prisoner was cackling alongside him, holding a ginormous looking gun in his hand. Mark normally wouldn't have been out, trudging around the warzone that was Gotham city, but his mother hadn't been home in hours. She went out to a shelter to get them some food because rationing the remnants of their freezer-burned chicken wasn't cutting it anymore. She hadn't come home and he was scared. He'd lost his father already and couldn't lose his mother as well. Unfortunately, on his way around the East End looking for her, he started getting trailed by two Blackgate prisoners who thought he looked like Rizzo from the movie Grease. "Sing for us, Riz," one of the prisoners said, poking Mark in the back with the barrel of the gun. "I don't know the song, man," Mark said. "Please stop--" Mark gunned it, running as fast his legs could carry him. He wasn't good at confrontations, but he wasgood at running. He turned the corner and wrenched open a shop door only to slam into someone standing inside. "Hide!! We're gonna die," he squealed, scrambling to his feet.

Zatanna's face collided with the grimy, poorly-swept floor of Pet Cetera. Sputtering angrily, she hauled herself up into a sitting position, eyes narrowing in surprise and then, anger. "Mark?" Just her luck. Gotham's most annoying mop-headed teen hand managed to run into her, quite literally, in probably one of the only pet stores still open in this mess. Which was why Zatanna had magicked her unhappy ass into a district as questionable as the East End. Timothy hay was needed for Lucky, and unsurprisingly, most businesses had opted to stay closed for the foreseeable future. She glared at the panicked teen, who picked himself up on coltish legs and glanced frantically towards the door as if expecting someone. "What are you talking about? What the hell do you mean we're going to die?" Zatanna brushed at her legs irritably, wrinkling her nose as bits of hay and dust fell to the floor. Gross.

Mark's nostrils flared as he took in the sight of the sight of the woman before him. Not this pain in the butt! Zatanna was the meanest, snarkiest, butthole-iest, HEY! She was magical wasn't she? Mark shoved her towards the door. "You fight 'em, and I'll stand back here, okay?" Mark said, pushing her forward. He ducked behind the glass case of guinea pigs as he saw the two prisoners walk towards the door. One had a head shaped like a big, dumb egg and with a greasy streak of hair on top. The other looked like a mean string bean. "Yeah, get 'em Zatanna. I believe in you! You go, girl!"

"Hands off, you little troll." Zatanna growled in warning as Mark shoved her at the door. The teen, as usual, was blabbering without making any sense. She wheeled back around to face him, rabbit food bag in hand. "I have no idea what you're talking about, kid. Who are you running from? Someone talking your lunch m-" She paused at the tinny jingle of the door's bell. Two rather large men had just walked in, wearing scowls and prisoner uniforms. Oh shit. The men Bane had released from Blackgate. Zatanna would end up in a dirty pet store with a couple of felons and an annoying teenager. Had Mark done something to antagonize them? Mark could probably annoy a brick wall with minimal effort on his part. She turned her head to him, voice at a low, angry murmur. "Mark, did you do something to them? You did something didn't you. What did you do?" But Mark had already started towards one of the taller aisles when he spotted the men. Zatanna followed in a controlled, casual walk. Maybe the two men just needed to restock on Iam's. Maybe, but probably not.

Did Mark do something? Hell no he didn't. His only crime: looking like Rizzo. He didn't even like that movie! Olivia Newton John was hot and all...but that was beside the point. Mark continued hiding behind the squeaking little pigs, nose pressed against the glass and his mouth fogging up the case. "Riiiiizzo. Where you at?" the prisoner asked. Mark continued pressing his face silently, taking in the fumes of soiled wood shavings. "AY! He's there," the other prisoner barked. "I see him. Behind that chick. Get outta our way, lady. We want to see this little freak sing and dance."

Zatanna's eyes narrowed in confusion. Who the hell was Riz- oh. They meant Mark. Of course they did. As loathe as she was to agree with a prisoner, there was a definite resemblance between the two. Dark curly mop of hair, impish features, weird dimples- all Mark needed was some pedal pushers and a pink quilted jacket. Halloween could be easy for him. The teen had "hidden" himself behind the clear plastic of the guinea pig enclosure, eyes widening when the hulking prisoner pointed a meaty finger straight at him. The two men started towards him, but Zatanna squared herself between them and the teen, smiling lightly. "I think you're mistaken, boys, you really don't want to hear him sing. Sounds like a goose being strangled. I know, I know, the resemblance is uncanny. But believe me when I saw that's where the similarities end." She was hoping that by this point Mark had scampered out of view, and the prisoners were similar to babies in the way that they lacked object permanence.

 "I hate that musical! Don't make me sing it! I don't even know the words," Mark cried out as he slipped behind a glass case of hamsters. "Please! At least let me play Kentucky. Connecticut. Kenickie!" He snatched a wood cabin house meant for guinea pigs and held it before him like a shield. The goons wouldn't be so easily discouraged, however. The egg-headed prisoner poked his gun in Zatanna's direction. "Listen, babe," he said, flipping his greasy hair back. "If you don't get outta the way, we're gonna have to be rough with you."

Mark had moved behind the hamster cage now, and was wielding a guinea pig house house in attempts to discourage the felons from coming any closer. Why they had singled out Mark as their target, Zatanna would never know, but she wasn't going to allow them to continue their harassment of the teen. She fixed the egg-headed man with a tight smile. "It's Zatanna, not babe, you stringy-haired creep. Zah-tan-ah ." She said slowly, sounding out each syllable with emphasis. "And you'd better not even think abo-" The patronizing tone had been a bad idea. With a sweep of his massive arm, the man sent Zatanna flying into a rack of dog leashes. One of the bright green, paw-print patterned leashes fell onto her face with a soft thwack. Angry and indignant, the magician hauled herself upright. She opened her mouth to speak a particularly nasty spell, only to pause when a hot glob of blood fell from her mouth and onto her knee. The blow had caused her to bite through her tongue. Oh, gross. Her mouth throbbed in pain, and she wiped at the blood with the back of her hand, leaving a dark red streak behind. Mark had better gotten moving by now, because casting a spell was going to prove to be a challenge.

Mark wondered why Zatanna was so useless. First she couldn't properly take care of Frank, and now she couldn't even stop two buff-looking meatheads from getting him to croon that stupid song from Grease! The two guys neared him, laughing as he cowered in the corner with a wood cabin clutched in his grubby fingers. "C'mon, guys. Please! I just wanted to look for my mom," Mark cried out. They neared him, crooning, "Unh! Tell me mo'. Tell me mo'," making Mark groan aloud. His mother needed him; he shouldn't be trying to evade a recreation of Grease in a pet store while she was possibly in danger. He lobbed the guinea pig house at the prisoners and it hit the egghead squarely in the face--mid "Tell me mo'." Mark scurried behind Zatanna for safety, only to find her bleeding all over herself. Gross! "Pull yourself together, woman and--" Mark shoved her to the ground as a spray of bullets cut through the air. It looked like the men weren't in the mood for singing anymore.

Zatanna's head smacked once more against the cheap tiling of Pet Cetera as the bullets shot overhead and buried themselves into oversized bags of kitty litter. They were shooting at them, because Mark refused to perform from Grease. And because he had struck Egghead with the wooden guinea pig house, but that hardly warranted a reaction like this. Zatanna rolled on instinct away from the gunfire, yanking at Mark's shirt collar as she did. Birds squawked angrily in their cages, beating their wings against the bars as the men continued to fire at the two retreating behind a row of dog kennels. The felons were still singing. Badly. At this point, she just wanted to go home. Venturing from the comfort in her apartment had only resulted in a pet store shoot-out, thank you Bane for making that possible. Here she was, crawling behind an aisle on her hands and knees like those stupid kids from Jurassic Park. The raptors had sounded better than these felons. Zatanna motioned for Mark to stay down, and stuffed a wad of her shirt into her mouth to soak up the blood staining her teeth. Her tongue felt dead in her mouth. She needed a spell that was short, something effective but could still be said quickly enough. "Llaf revo!" The two felons toppled to the ground. "Snug otni s-" The words came out muffled and thick, and her tongue moved sluggishly like it had been shot with novocaine.

Mark watched as the thugs fell over, their bullets ripping through the ceiling as they tumbled backwards. Nailed it! Mark followed Zatanna around on the dirty pet shop floor, shuffling around on his hands and knees. The main thought swimming through his mind was "Grease sucks," but he also couldn't help but wonder whether his mother had run into cruel idiots like the egghead and string bean before him. Would she be okay? Would he? The men had stopped singing and now they looked more pissed than ever. Mark threw a tin of cat food in their direction, but it clattered pitifully five feet short of them. "C'mon say more stuff," Mark cried out, his voice cracking from his panic. "Like 'ie-day diots- iay!' Or...'ou-yay uys-gay ing-say rease-Gay!'"

Zatanna watched as Mark hurled a can of Friskies at the two felons. It missed, and now the teen was panicking. "Ahm tywing!" She said around her already swelling-tongue, pausing to listen for the heavy tread of the men as they hid behind the aisle. "leahh eun- " Zatanna stopped to wipe at more blood. "-Leah eugnot!" Healing spells were difficult, and with her magic corrupted, there was only so much a spell like that could accomplish. But the magician didn't need a full recovery. She just needed to sound intelligible so she could clean up this mess and get Mark out. Zatanna could feel the pink flesh of her tongue begin to knit together at her words, and the first uncomfortable pangs of nausea that was going to follow expending her magic like this. But she could speak now. More or less. "Take thith-" She dumped an armful of ceramic fish bowl decoratives into Mark's lap. The Scooby-Doo figurine had a wonky eye, and it stared upward at the ceiling comically "-and create a distraction. I'm going to pop out and turn these assholes into turnips."

Mark turned the wonky-eyed Scooby Doo over in his hand. A distraction? He was plenty good at providing those...but he wasn't quite as good when there was gunfire involved. But he looked into that shaky, googly eye of Scooby and felt strength fill him. Zatanna would take care of him. She was magic. He wouldn't get shot. If worst came to worst, she'd revive him by saying, "Ring-bay hat-tay oung-yay utie-cay ack-bay to ife-lay!" He hurled Scooby in Egghead's direction. It missed, but caught the Stringbean's giant chompers instead. "I'll tell you more! Here's more...that you told me to tell you. Whatever." He wasn't good at comebacks, but he was good at throwing stuff. He hurled a miniature fat sea otter figurine in their direction. Then a poorly painted Spongebob Squarepants. Then, a treasure chest filled with Scooby snacks. A few of the figurines missed, but Mark was poor at aiming as he swept down the aisles at breakneck speed. "I'm not Rizzo! I'm not Rizzo! I'd rather be Danny!"

The egg-headed man let out an enraged grunt as Squidward's tiki house collided with his uncomfortably smooth, oval-shaped noggin. Now was the time. Zatanna rolled out from behind the dog kennels and sprang to her feet. "Snolef emoceb spinrut!" Two vegetables rolled pathetically on the floor, gun straps holstered over their leafy tops. Zatanna tilted her head for a moment, considering. "Snolef emoceb gge dna neerg neab." She amended. An unnecessary, if poetic change. "Mark, you can come out and explain now."

Mark crept out from behind the reptile exhibits, his hands shaking as they tightened around the last figurine in his hand: Popeye. Popeye's one large bicep was bigger than Mark's pinky finger and he was sure it would have packed quite a wallop if it hit that dumb egg in the face. Luckily, however, the prisoners were turned into the food products they resembled. Huh. Great minds thought alike, he supposed. Mark probably would have turned them into something else, though. Like a soggy bag of dog turds or a curdled bowl of milk. "I was just trying to look for my mom," he said softly, placing Popeye back onto a shelf. "I dunno where she is and she's been gone for hours and then these guys came out of nowhere, chanting 'Tell me more,' 'tell me more' and calling me Rizzo even though I'm not Rizzo. Hell, I'd even rather be French Fry. Or Frenchie. Whatever her name is." He picked up the shattered Scooby Doo figurine from the floor and pocketed his decapitated plastic head. Good luck. "Do you think you can help me find her? Or magic her in here or something?...I just wanna make sure she's okay and--" From the corner of the store, Mark heard feet shuffle as Mr. Gardetto popped out from behind the counter, his eyes wide and panicked. "Get out of my store!" he screeched, his face red as a cherry tomato. Or perhaps processed ketchup. "Mary told me I shouldn't have kept the store open, but I thought people might need-- I--I was so--" the shopkeeper held his face in his hands, shoulders trembling.

Zatanna's irritable scowl softened. Damn kid, sounding like that sad little baby bird from the Dr. Seuss book. Mark probably had enough to be worrying about besides a missing mom. "Alright Rizzo, you acted as a good distraction. I'll send you to your mom, it's not like I want to babysit you any longer." She gave the teen a small smile that was only slightly strained. The shopkeeper was yelling now. "Let's not make this a habit. Dnes Kram ot sih rehtom ylefas." The teen disappeared from the shop, and Zatanna's shoulders slumped wearily. She felt like throwing up. So much for a quick errand. Sighing, the magician fished out her wallet and gave the shop keeper an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about your shop. I am, really. Just let me- Erotser erots!" That had done it. She felt like had been hit with a freight train, and there were still the two vegetable-felons to take care of, but at least Pet Cetera no longer look like a war zone. "I also need to buy some Timothy hay from you-" Zatanna paused to retrieve the bag, then spared a glance at the Popeye figurine before deciding t snatch it off the aisle shelf. Souvenir. "-and this tackily painted figurine."

[markbender]

[pm] Guess we’ve gotta put our campaign strategies on the back burner, man. [d: And that’s uh] [d: This is me asking if you’re ok without really asking because] [d: Dude, Gotham’s WWZ and I still haven’t done my math homework and my mom’s]

[pm] Things are getting scary, man. Have you gone outside?  I have I'm about to. 

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Hey Ya // Outkast

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[ibelieve-ingothamcity]

[pm] Because you’re a teenager and you’ve publicly done it before.

Bane likes to brag that he “broke me.” But you’re correct, he only broke my back. I got better. And he won’t when I’m done.

[markbender]

[pm] Have I? I don't think so. I don't remember!

What? Are you planning on breaking his back?

[markbender]

[pm] Mark, how are you and your mother? Are you safe?

[pm] We’re okay….kinda. My mom won’t let me leave the house. We’re rationing food cos’ she doesn’t want to make a run to the store. I wouldn’t want her to leave, though. I saw a guy with a gun outside and it was like a HUGE gun! Not a regular one like you usually see around here.

Are you staying inside? Are you okay? Are you safe??

[unflinching-justice]

[pm]  No problem.

We have 13 holding companies and subsidiaries and all of them have various subdivisions.  The big ones I can name of the top of my head are:

Wayne Tech

Wayne Aerospace

Wayne Chemicals

Wayne Biotech

Wayne Industries

And I’m glad you’re getting along with Meme but it’s also important to think about yourself and what you feel most comfortable doing.  While Legal is very successful, I know the work there can be very tedious (I do get all the emails after all).  So don’t hesitate in letting me know how you’re really feeling in regards to the workload.

Is it really that surprising?  I like taking the subway.

[markbender]

[pm] WOAH! Is the Aerospace one filled with astronauts? Like...would I get to go to space? What's in the industries one? Factories? Would I be welding things together? A little iron worker?

I know, but what would Mr. Dent  Meme think if I just transferred, you know? I don't know. I don't want to let him down.

The subway kinda smells like pee. I dunno why you like it!

[markbender]

If you could kiss any one person right now, who would it be?

Olivia Newton John, but only when she was in Grease. I dunno why, but those leather hot pants just do it for me.

I’ve been told I look like Rizzo, though…

Kinda ruined the movie for me.

Anyway, yeah. Short answer: Olivia Newton John in Grease, but only after her transformation into those hot pants.

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Danger Zone b/w I’m Gonna Do It Right Kenny Loggins, Columbia Records/USA (1985)

From The Original Soundtrack of The Paramount Motion Picture TOP GUN

[scorchedwhiteknight]

[pm] Yea, he is a bit of a dick, isn’t he? Bane did. He broke his spine and now he’s back. Around the same time that Bruce came back, actually. He’s not superhuman, contrary to what the papers might say. He’s breakable, killable.I’m sure a part of him regrets not coming back sooner.

You’re right, he didn’t. I’d like to imagine he was busy, but with a handful of some of Gotham’s most important caught up in a deadly game, I have to question what was so important that kept him at bay. He’s a busy man, sure, but he had friends acquaintances in that game.

Speaking of, are you doing better? I’ve been meaning to see you, but I’ve been kept busy with meetings.

[markbender]

[pm] Yeah? Well, he should have come back sooner. Wiener.

Yeah!!! For real! What was he doing? Picking his nose?

It's still hard to sle  I'm still kinda sca  Yeah, I'm good. What about you? You good?