He was such an interesting character for having such a simple name. Bane had waited a long, agonizing time in the darkness before his appearance in Gotham, and this appearance would not be easily forgotten by anyone. The monumental man was oddly thankful for being christened in the harshness of a South American prison. Anyone else would've crumbled in that environment, but he only took the opportunity to condition for his rise into the world. His first kill was at the tender age of eight. He could still remember the tattered teddy bear he always carried with him. It had a gash in its back, where the boy kept a well-sharpened knife in case trouble should come about. He found it primordial to learn as much as he could; reading any books he got his hands on, insistently questioning the elders there. This made him extremely educated, as he felt this was most important. Years of fighting and training went by before he was able to climb his way out of the hell hole. When he did, it came with a sense of liberation and heaviness, there was so much to do now. He promptly learned about the crime bubbling in Gotham. It was labeled a villain hot-spot by newspapers, constantly reported about on the news- the concentration of bad men always threatening to spill over the rest of the country. It never really did, though. Something about the corrupt, infamous city sucked in criminals and kept them there like flies in a honey pot. Naturally, Bane was fascinated. He became increasingly interested as news of a mysterious and intimidating vigilante in a bat suit continued to make the front pages. The prison escapee was immediately reminded of something. Far in his past he'd often dreamt about an enormous bat- there in a fleeting moment and then gone the next. Bane knew where he needed to go, what he had to accomplish was not yet clear, but his destination was Gotham.
The building stood at more than a thousand feet. It towered over most of the others, and it was in it that Eileen sat contemplating the view. From this far up the city looked rather tranquil, but she could see it become uglier the closer she looked into its streets. Bums, robbers, rapists- the scum of the earth building up around her while the rich and lucky ones stood ingorant and proud in their garish homes. It was enough to make her sick. She hated this pathetic excuse for a home. Of course she knew the reality of it, but sometimes she couldn't help but fantasize about a revolution. Nevertheless she distracted herself with the pretense of a normal life. Working as a decently payed psychologist filled her hours. She'd made something of herself through focus and work, but she was helplessly dissatisfied with how her life had turned out. She had seen too many of her colleagues lose their way. People she was close to like Dr. Crane, locked away in the place he had once looked over in a jacket made just for him. Her own best friend Harley Quinzel lost her mind and eloped with a madman. Eileen kept contemplating her future. Sure, she was still very young, moderately stable and had a long way ahead of her, but what could she possibly do to bring change? To flip society upside down and watch everyone she hated flail in the wake of a local war? Her answer came in the form of a tall, built, masked madman. Several weeks went by before her world turned a different direction.
"What the hell is that?" She heard someone on the other side of the bar question what the television in front of him was airing. Her interest hardly peaked. She took a quick glance towards the screen at what looked like a movie. As she turned back around to finish her drink a few other exclamations escaped the people now forming in clusters around the TV. Her eyebrows furrowed and she slid the glass towards the bartender. It was only when the place fell in complete and almost foreboding silence that she turned back around. She evaluated the expressions around her first. What might have earlier been interest and excitement had now become a look of utter shock and fear. Eyes glistened while their attention was taken by the images beeing displayed. Eileen turned her own focus to the film. It was not a movie. It was a live broadcast from the Gotham Rogues football stadium- only there were no games being played. Instead a big, disconcerting man stood at the edge of the field, another person being held down on his knees beside him. The helicopter showed an aviary view of the gigantic hole than had been blown in the arena. The field had collapsed and little of it was left. The scene cut back to the figure in the brown coat and odd mask. Reporters were struggling to place microphones close enough to him in order to pick anything up. Soon enough he obtained his own and his voice boomed and echoed through the bar- the whole city went quiet. "Gotham!" It was not the voice she'd expected to come from such a robust person, it seemed to reflect his mind more than his physical state. "Take control of your city! This is the instrument of your liberation!" His accent was tinged with British, but mixed. Sometimes a growl, other times a smooth hiss. His speech was reminiscent of a revolutionary leader's. Eileen took extreme notice of this. The still unidentified man turned his attention to the one on his knees. He was given a microphone. "Identify yourself!" Shivers crawled up and down her spine. His voice echoed through the stadium with a graceful strength. This was not just some escaped lunatic. This was something more, something she'd long been waiting for- an agent of chaos. She rose from her seat as the show continued. The speech went on for a while longer, the reporters looked flustered and horrified and gathered from it that Gotham was under the immediate threat of a nuclear bomb. The man on his knees was the only scientist able to disarm it, and he'd been killed on live television. Bane wanted a revolt- for the lower classes to rise up and take the city once again, for the rich to fall hard. Eileen's lips twitched into a smile. She had to find this man.