War is overdue
The time has come for you
To shoot your leaders down
Join forces underground
Lose control
In increasing pace
Wantonly waste
Intention erased
Whatever they say
These people are torn
Wild and bereft
Assassin is born

-Assassin, Muse

Chapter One: A Chance

Alex Bellamy clutched her notebook, scrawling down insignificant information about the Gotham Stock Exchange. Her classmates busied themselves by wandering amongst the wealthier class of the city, who turned their noses up at the sight of high school students tarnishing the affluent market. They observed the advanced computer monitors displaying stock trends, seemingly out of place in the old beige building. Her classmates studied the upper class, as if they would one day be so rich, like they were looking into their distant future. Alex wasn't so optimistic.

When her teachers weren't watching, she eagerly slipped out of the crowded room. Alex walked towards the front entrance, discreetly leaning herself against a wall. She held her notebook against her knee, bending slightly until the pen met the paper. As she was lazily drawing random patterns and shapes, she noticed a hulking figure enter through the glass doors. He strolled purposely into the Exchange, wearing a black leather jacket which clung to his massive body. The colossal confidence radiating off of him caused people to recoil, avoiding his eye contact as if it would turn them to stone. His eyes flickered to hers for a short second, silently questioning why she didn't look away. Alex remained where she was, curiously wondering what he was concealing beneath his red motorcycle helmet.

Moments later, she heard a chorus of gunshots erupt from within the main room. She wasn't overly startled; anyone living in Gotham had had their fair share of violence. Alex peered around for a hiding spot, settling on a corner beside a shoeshine station. For nearly ten minutes, she pressed her head against the stone wall, hoping to hear what was going on. Despite more gunfire, she couldn't make out much more, except perhaps one voice which rose above the rest. It was a strange mechanical rasp, like someone exhaling while talking, except rougher. The voice was clearly masculine, and yielding an undeniable power. She was nearly positive that this was the man she had seen come into the building.

From her corner, she could see police cars settling in front of the entrance, creating a barricade of vehicles. Men exited their rides, raising different kinds of guns; Alex didn't know the first thing about weapons. She knew that unless she left before the large man, he would surely spot her on his way out. Mustering up her courage, she stood and jogged to the glass doors. Her fingertips were just touching the wall masking her freedom when a voice called out.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you," the man commented, causing her to turn and face him. His pale skin contrasting the dark bangs hanging over his face. "Bane's gonna need some hostages, and from what I can hear going on in there, you're gonna be one of the last one's left." He laughed grimly at the last statement. Hostages? Alex wondered. Why would they take hostages after stealing the money? What money? This is a stock exchange. There's no cash here.

Alex didn't respond to him. There wasn't enough time to.

A crowd of citizens was urged by gunpoint into the entrance, and somehow she ended up in the back, behind the massive man. His helmet was gone, replaced by a sort of contraption around his bare head. The main part covered his mouth and nose in intricate metal tubes, the rest stretched over his head, and around the back with a thick black strap. Alex hadn't expected to see his face. He was the only person she had ever laid eyes on that didn't need a face. His presence alone had the ability to construct a formidable image, seeing his face would have made him seem more real. More human.

The citizens were lead down the steps, holding their arms up defensively to the police. The group of apparent thieves blended in, each one grasping their hostage of choice. The faceless man, along with his accomplices, guided the motorcycles on the descending stairs. He turned abruptly, seeing Alex behind him. Without a blink, he roughly grasped her arm, pulling her towards him.

"Get on," his mechanical voice commanded, much to her dismay, as he straddled the motorcycle. She hesitated a moment, opening her mouth to protest, then closing it again as she saw the ferocity in his eyes. "Now." He possessed an unquestionably authoritative tone, which told her that failure to comply would result in her immediate death. So Alex slid onto the seat, unsure of where to put her hands. When the engine roared to life and lurched forward, she reflexively latched onto the man's thick waist.

The bike trembled as it sped down the stairs, weaving between cop cars. The man squeezed the clutch tighter and tighter, until their pursuers were just distant shapes. His men followed their leader, also bearing hostages on their bikes. The plan was successful: the cops hadn't fired at them because they would risk harming the citizens. The men began pushing their hostages off of their motorcycles, prompting them to harshly roll to the pavement.

Alex saw this, and held onto her kidnapper for dear life. He would have to pull over to pry her off without crashing the motorcycle, and he was well aware of this, but he still leaned forward slightly at her touch. She tightened her grasp on him during each turn, tucking her head into his back when she heard a gunshot. She wasn't comforted by him, however she was soothed by the fact that if something were to happen to her, he would be going down with her.

Soon, the sirens behind them faded entirely. Alex could only hear the light humming of bikes beside her, though she couldn't see past the man's broad back. The man who desired very much to be rid of her clinging hands. A faint smile touched her lips; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of shying away from him. She knew he craved her fear.

The vehicle beneath her halted. The man smoothly stepped off of the bike, turning towards Alex. Now that his back was out of her way, she realized that her kidnapper, along with a few of his men, were in a barren parking lot somewhere the city lights didn't quite reach. As she was taking in her surroundings, the burly man forcefully seized her arm and dragged her off of the bike. He spoke quietly to a man at his side, then was handed a brown sack. His warm hand clasped Alex's chilled neck as he slid the sack over her head, much to her distaste.

"Is this really necessary?" she muttered, her voice muffled by the cloth. She reached to pull the sack away, but was stopped by the same large hands. Her wrists were bound behind her back with a coarse rope. The rope was uncomfortable because of its roughness, shrewdly making her want to itch it. She resisted the feeling, due to her goal of maintaining as much dignity as possible.

Alex was guided down a flight of stairs by a smaller, but substantial hand. She was concerned about overstepping, and tumbling down the stairs because of the quick pace, but she made it down without much incident, aside from a few stumbles. And then, she was lifted off her feet by two men, then placed on a ladder. She didn't realize at first that she was nearly ten feet from the ground, and she missed a rung of the ladder. Her hands slipped down the sides of the frigid metal before she landed in the arms of a massive body. Him.

Alex didn't thank him. She remained silent.

The sack was torn from her head, leaving her wavy near-black hair tousled and sticking up in places. It took a moment for her inky brown eyes to adjust to the light, not that there was much light anyhow. Alex was underground for sure, but where, she had no idea. She could hear a rush of water close by, but didn't see much aside from blank tan walls, a desk, and scattered seating. The men stood a few feet away, watching her. There were four of them there , including the monstrous one, the pale one, a scruffy brown-haired guy, and a scrawny blonde. The pale man favored his right leg, hobbling along when the leader wasn't looking.

"Sir, what should we do with the girl?" the brown-haired man asked. She listened intently, hoping her fate wouldn't be too gruesome. The leader towered over his men as he stared at her, trying to read her. She looked back at him, calculatingly as well.

"Dispose of her," he rasped simply, striding towards a hallway. Alex watched in alarm as the second-in-command raised a gun and pointed it at her head. His finger brushed against the trigger.

"No!" she called out hysterically. "You can't kill me." Her breathing steadied marginally as the gunman paused just long enough for the leader to put his hand up, delaying her death sentence. She couldn't see his mouth, but it wasn't difficult to tell he was amused.

"No?" he mocked bitterly. "Were you under the impression that your judgement would be taken into consideration?" She wondered vaguely where he was from, with an accent as unfamiliar as his.

"Give me a chance," Alex demanded brazenly. She didn't plead for his mercy as he suspected she would, or even flee into the labyrinth of the underground. She was asking for an opportunity to live, and he could not deny such a stout, but foolish girl.

"My men have all earned their positions, you will be no different. You will be fighting for your life," he declared as she glared at him numbly, her mouth popping open in shock. He gestured to himself and the three men dispersed around the room. "Well? Choose your opponent." Too his immense surprise, she didn't point to the smallest man but instead to one of his newer recruits, Filip. The pale man, whose limp only she noticed, strode towards her. She struggled to form a plan, knowing that his weak leg would be her only advantage.

Alex pulled out of her gray sweatshirt, leaving her in a plain tank top, leggings, and a pair of tattered Converse. Her opponent approached her while the other men backed away, leaving plenty of space for the fight. He sneered at the small girl, clearly feeling no remorse for her. She didn't want his pity anyhow.

He lunged for her instantly, aiming a punch at her temple, which she swiftly ducked under. He stepped forward as she stepped back, taking on a defensive position. The pale man swung another mighty, spontaneous fist at Alex, this one connecting sourly with her cheek. She reflexively bit her tongue, which spilled blood onto her white teeth. She spat out the coppery taste.

Alex knew that if it came down to strength, she couldn't win this battle. She had to think.

She thought of everything she could remember about fighting, faintly recalling a boxing movie she had seen, The Fighter. She pictured Mark Wahlberg chanting head, body, head, body. Alex's eyes briefly flashed against the curious leader's as he scrutinized her every flawed move. Her lips twitched upwards as she formed a curt plan.

Alex hurled her fist at her opponents face, smiling slyly as he took the bait, protecting his head. She quickly recoiled, positioning one foot behind his weak leg, holding it in place. He ground his teeth, struggling to push her off. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting a foot and heaving it sharply into his kneecap. They collapsed to the ground as his leg broke with a menacing crack. He shamefully let out a howl of pain as the clever girl pounded his face in with crude, sporadic punches. And then it was over.

"Bane," the new recruit groaned loudly,(and pathetically), deflecting as many of her jabs as he could manage. "The little hussy snapped my leg!" Rory heard the leader, Bane, chuckle lightly. A strong hand on her shoulder pulled her off of her victim.

"You were defeated by an inexperienced child, my friend." Child? She was nearly eighteen! " I'm afraid I have no tolerance for your weakness," Bane added. The man gaped at the looming figure above him, cowardly avoiding his piercing glare. "Barsad, take care of this gentleman for me." The guy with brown hair and stubble nodded to his leader. Bane glanced down at Alex, as if wondering what he could possibly do with her.

"What now?" she questioned, harshly brushing her untamed hair from her face. "Are you going to torture me? Rape me? Kill me? Recruit me?" Eat me? she wondered mentally. His eyes glinted with amusement, as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Perhaps," Bane responded simply, to her utter annoyance. He clutched the girl's shoulder, leading her out of the open room and into a dim hallway. She listened attentively as her desperate adversary pleaded with Barsad to no avail. A single gunshot echoed throughout the underground, and the begging ceased.

She couldn't help but feel responsible for his death.

Author's Note:
Well...what do you think? In case you're wondering, I'm not stopping my other story, The Baron of Darkness, I'm just starting an additional one. Pretty stupid, I know. Summer will be starting in a couple of weeks, so I'll be able to update more frequently then. Please let me know if it's weird to be attracted to Bane.

Also, I was listening to the song at the top while I was writing this, and I figured hey! this kind of fits. She's not quite an assassin, but still. Notice her last name is Bellamy? That's the lead singer of Muse's last name! God I'm obsessed. Sorry, I tend to ramble in author notes.

Until I update, it would make my day if you took a look at my other Batman story!