Winter descended quickly on Gotham, a frigid blanket to mask the horrid deeds of it's citizens in a shroud of white. Bodies scuttled about, darting from shadow to shadow in a bid for anonymity, for safety, for freedom.

Revolution had come.

Bane had brought the once "great" city to it's knees in a matter of weeks. Criminals ruled with iron fists and a blood lust that rivaled their great overlord. The rich were hunted and slaughtered like cattle, the privileged paraded in front of an insane judge and his court. Rights and privileges were stripped away to leave people bare and bloody.

Alexis sat silently on her tiny couch, oiling the hinges on her switchblade, her .22 pistol in pieces in front of her, each cleaned and ready to be reassembled. She worked quiet but efficient for several long minutes, piecing things together and making sure it all moved smoothly. She'd been caught unprepared before, fingers unconsciously brushed the collar of her shirt, and that was not something she was willing to allow again.

She pulled a kevlar vest over her chest, sheathed and holstered her weapons, and made her way to her front door. She'd been running low on supplies for a couple days, though she'd managed to make what she had stretch. There was a small market around the corner, with canned goods and the like which she regularly pilfered for only what she needed an no more. She knew there were others like her, not many, but enough she didn't want to doom them in this dystopian city.

She paused as she passed the cracked mirror hanging in her front hall. The frown that pinched between her brows did nothing to harden up her soft features. Eyes too wide and pale, cheeks too rounded and smooth, and a mouth far too soft for her own liking. Still, such gentle features had their merits at times. She was constantly under estimated by opponents, which suited her just fine.

She tucked a wayward strand of block hair behind her ear, smoothed a finger over the scar at her lip, then whisked out the door, a duffle bag slung low over her shoulder.

Her shoulders hunched, her spine bowed, and she tucked her head to look as small and nondescript as possible. Another nameless, faceless wretch in Gotham.

She slipped into the market quietly and began stuffing things into her bag. She ticked items off in her head; canned goods, first aid supplies, a new water filter, a big pack of strike anywhere matches. She smiled vaguely, reminded of camping trips when she was younger, when the sound of boots crunching glass alerted her to company. She zipped her bag quickly and stashed it under a counter before backing away and pressing herself against a wall.

Silently, she prayed it wasn't his men, was just another scavenger clinging to the vestibules of hope and life. She'd always prided herself on her luck, whether good or ill she had it in abundance, and it hadn't failed her yet.

A group of mercenaries rounded the corner and spotted her almost instantly. She widened her eyes trying to look frightened and small, and counted them quickly. Five big, muscle bound idiots who only knew how to follow orders. Her stomach twisted and she fought back the urge to sneer. Joy.

"Well, well, well," One sneered, obviously the leader with his eyebrow cocked and a swagger to his step. "What have we here? A little mouse, all alone."

"Please," She whispered, voice cracking, their smiles only grew. "Don't hurt me." She inched her body along the wall, placing a rack between herself and them. "I didn't do anything."

The leader barked out a laugh at her and she flinched, glancing quickly to the side as one thug approached the hiding spot of her goods. "Looks to me like you were stealing," He bared his teeth in a smile. "In Bane's territory."

"No," She chirped, knocking into a display and scattering cards. "No, I- I wasn't stealing. Please, I'm just hungry." The men laughed at her display as she took them all in. Only the leader wore a vest like hers, but no where near as nice. Probably cobbled together as a last thought. Their weapons weren't maintained well. So not mercenaries, common criminals. Her night just became much easier.

"Oh, sweetheart, I got something I could feed ya." He sneered at her, approaching slowly, thinking her cornered. His meaty fingers closed around her wrist and she responded immediately, her other hand lashed out, caught him in the throat with a sickening crunch, paralyzing his vocal cords. She dropped low and spun, sweeping his legs from under him while he was distracted, and his head hit the floor hard.

By now his men were moving, converging on both sides and she leaped forward, shoving the rack at the two dumb enough not to move out of the way. Canned goods and bottles scattered, and she wove through the chaos she created with the grace of a dancer. A man came at her side, but his shoes slipped on the cards on the floor and she ducked his wild punch to come up and clap her hands over both of his ears, deafening him. He yowled in pain and threw another wild punch, which she blocked quickly and counted with her elbow to his jaw. He hit the floor in a heap.

Alexis dipped quickly, catching a heavy can in her fingers which she lobbed at the temple of the next closest unfortunate soul. He cursed loudly, nearly hitting his knees, and she had to commend him for his fortitude. Still, when she brought her knee up into his nose, breaking it and slamming the bone into his cranium, his fortitude meant nothing.

Three down, two to go. Today was productive.

The smile as she grabbed the discarded rack of cards off the floor and swung around to gain momentum was not lost on her last two attackers. Chests full of thrown metal they grunted in unison only to have it land atop the rack and force even more air from their lungs.

A swift kick to the face of one rendered him unconscious as she danced out of reach of the other. She had turned for only a moment, but a shot rang out and sent her reeling to the side, clutching her shoulder. Her body registered the pain before her brain did, and the surge of adrenaline made her hands shake even as she clutched the wound.

He was still struggling to his feet as she stalked over to him and pressed her boot to his throat. Her eyes hardened to sharp points of jade as she stepped down hard.

She scurried for her bag and left quickly, before the last gurgle sounded. She ducked out of the building, her limbs shaking as fire began to course through her, and adrenaline seeped from her body. She hitched the bag higher on her uninjured shoulder and tugged the collar of her jacket around her neck before gripping her wound again.

The sound of more boots hit her ears and her head snapped up quickly, and for the first time in her life, she cursed her luck.

Approaching her slowly was none other than the Revolutionary himself.

Bane.

Son of an absolute bitch.

She ducked her head again and immediately shifted her route towards the other side of the road. She didn't need much help to appear weak and vulnerable, what with blood coursing down her arm, shaking limbs, and jerky movements. She didn't make it far before a hand closed around her wounded arm in a steel grip. Her world wavered briefly before her as her knees gave out. She expected to hit the ground, but that grip held firm, keeping her from meeting concrete.

A strange voice filled her head, and for a moment she didn't understand anyone was speaking to her. "You are wounded." He repeated patiently. She groaned lightly but managed to refrain from sarcasm. Barely.

"Yes." She replied as his thumb traced over the wound and she hissed at him. She was shaking hard now, from pain and shock, though adrenaline was building in her veins again. She was going to be a wreck tonight.

She tested his grip upon her arm, and a fighter she may have been, but she was weak and wounded, and there was no way she could take on his people. They were trained and ready for combat at the drop of a hat. She was suddenly very tired.

There was no way she could outright attack him, not so heavily outnumbered and wounded. Her only real choice was escape, she just had to outrun and outsmart them. She was so tired, but she glanced at his face, at the heavy mask that protected nearly everything. She couldn't break his nose, couldn't go for his eyes. In fact, his whole body seemed heavily armored, from the thick coat he wore, the heavy kevlar vest, down to the well worn but well maintained boots on his feet. She-

"What are you?" He asked, breaking her concentration for a moment. She blinked owlishly up at him, eyes deceptively soft and round. "Police? Paramilitary? I saw my men enter that store, and only you leave." His tone was clinical, assessing her threat level to his operation. She didn't possess one, she just wanted to make it out alive. Who was in charge mattered little to her.

"No." Perhaps if she stuck to one word answers, he'd grow bored. He only narrowed his eyes at her and she frowned in return.

"Do not play games with me girl, I am not in the mood." He warned and she felt her self preservation wane a bit.

"I highly doubt you are ever in the mood." She sighed letting her body relax while she could. She'd need her strength to get away.

A few muffles snickers met her words and he turned to give his men a quelling look. A moment, that was all she needed. She planted her foot against his knee and shoved herself up and forward. She tucked herself in so their shoulders met and she rolled down his back, sprinting off the moment her feet touched the ground.

Another shot sounded behind her and she dove into an alleyway before she heard a muffled shout of, "Hold your fire!" She didn't stop long enough to puzzle through that particular phenomenon.

She was leaving an easy trail to follow, she knew this, so she doubled back several times, climbed over what she could, and took to high ground as often as possible.

Finally, after minutes that felt like hours, she hunkered down in a small alleyway and tugged her bag closer to her. She hadn't grabbed much by way of medical supplies, but it was enough for now.

She peeled the bloody cloth away from her skin and stared at the wound, poking gently and swearing not so gently. It was just a graze, for which she was infinitely grateful. She had no stitches, but needle and thread at home, which she could utilize. She pulled a small bottle of vodka out of her bag and bit down into a wadded piece of cloth before disinfecting her wound. She howled as her body shook, her head falling back against the wall in agony. It passed soon enough and she dew in several deep breaths through her nose before she felt steadied again.

"Perhaps a parent in the military." That same voice said near her and she spun, a knife appearing in her hand as she crouched, bloodied, in front of him.

"Bane." She greeted mildly and his eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he were smiling. She found the notion disturbingly odd. "Fancy meeting you here." She ignored his question outright, it was none of his business after all.

"Indeed, such a large city, and you, so small a person." He crouched nearer to her, his hands hooked in the vest at his chest, his fingers curled loosely. He'd been born fighting, she imagined. The way he moved, that even at rest his natural state was ready for combat. Her eyes flicked over his face, reading his eyes, and though the rest of him might have been a mystery, those stormy grey eyes almost pulled her in. She blinked quickly and glared sharply.

"Usually it makes it easy to disappear." She reached into her bag and popped two painkillers, swallowing them down without a drink. "Why?" She demanded, and could tell it caught him off guard. He gave orders, he didn't take them.

"I've come to see this little survivor." He answered plainly. She hummed softly, never letting her gaze leave his. This was all surprisingly civil, and far too strange for her right now. She wasn't supposed to catch attention, much less Bane's attention, that was a death sentence unto itself. She ripped off the bottom part of her shirt and tied it tightly around her arm, stemming the flow of blood.

"You will be disappointed. I am unremarkable." She said idly, yanking the knot tight with her teeth. She glanced up to be nearly nose to nose with him and stifled a shriek. A gun pressed between his eyes before she fully registered that she was moving. A hard light entered her gaze and his crinkled once more around the edges.

"I doubt that." He said idly, almost leaning against her pistol.

"I am not here for your entertainment." She snarled at him, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She wasn't going to shoot him, hated the mess it made, but he didn't need to know that, and she needed to leave before her arm started shaking more.

"Good luck on your conquests." She said before she was wheeling around and running again.

She was going to sleep for a week after this.

Hello my darlings! I've decided to rewrite this thing so I can finally finish it and stop being a weenie. Two years and the end is in sight! The reason for the rewrite is so I can make sure everything flows the way it's supposed to, what with how my writing has changed over the years. I still want to deliver a quality story. So please, enjoy what I've got and how far we've come together. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to do this without the kind words I've received along the way. You guys are amazing. Thank you so much.

Ahh, and if you're curious, I'm going to be posting this up on Ao3 as well, under the pen name SnowSphinx. The title of the story will remain the same ^.^