Disclaimer: I own nothing but... but nothing. :( No wait.. Nope.. Still nothing :'( Thanks for taking the time off to read this!

Arya will be 18 in this AU. You know what that means! This is a rated M story and it will descend into darkness very, very quickly. I advise the younger audience to beware at (your own risk.) This chapter, on the other hand, is light and fluffy compared to what is going to come.. If you guys do want me to continue, that is.

Once again, this is an Arya Stark/Bruce Wayne fic and it will come ever so slowly. And no, she does not meet him in this chap. Sorry :3

"Pull over now! You will be shot. Repeat, you will be shot!" said the Russian man over the speakers. He was in one of the cars trailing behind the black car. As the driver of the black car, denying orders, continued speeding, the trailing car continued with the commands in Russian and in broken english on the speakerphone. "Stop! Shoot we will! STOP!"

Tut. The driver of the black car clicked her tongue in impatience as she swerved her car away from the oncoming traffic. The chase seemed to be going on for quite a while and time was running out. She knew that their threats were not empty. The Russians were the least compassionate when it came to following orders.

As time was lessening, a phone call was heard. The driver glanced at the car compartment, eyeing the phone suspiciously, listening to the ringtone above the noises of sirens and shouting. She focused once again on the road ahead of her, ignoring the call. Silence soon followed. The driver looked back. The cars that were following her a second ago were nowhere to be seen. The only noise was the sound of her engine. Not even a car was in sight. Fuck, she cursed inwardly.

The phone rung. She stopped the car on the side of the road and let the phone ring for a few seconds before she picked it up.

*click*

She held the phone to her ear. She didn't need to guess who it was on the other end. She tried saying something but all she could do was open and close her mouth. This went on for a while. The other line did not hang up.

"Do not call this number again. If you do, I won't forgive you..." she said, trying to hide the tremor building up in her throat. She waited. For what, she didn't really know. No reply came so she continued out of fear that she was wrong about who it was, wrong about the callers intentions, "You.. You are not playing a part in this. This is my job. This is my mission, do you hear? If I find out you've been helping me, like what you did today with the other cars, I," She hesitated. I will kill you. "I won't forgive you." He knew what she meant. "Do you understand?" The last question was barely a murmur.

"Arya..," said the voice from the other line. She heard no emotion whatsoever. No, she thought to herself. She couldn't do it. She didn't want to hear his voice again, not now. In the back of her mind, she couldn't bring out the thought to say 'not ever'.

"Goodbye Uncle.. Alfred," she whispered.

*click*

She hung up and placed her phone back into the compartment. She inhaled and exhaled slowly before she continued back on the road, towards her destination. Arya. Arya. My name is- no - was Arya. I am not Arya anymore. My name is Jane. She glanced up at the time: 20:28. Shit. She shook her head out of her reminiscence.

As time neared 9:00pm, she picked up her phone and called the number that was given to her. She waited for the rings to repeat thrice times then she hung up. Not even a second passed by and her phone was ringing in her hand. She picked it up and spoke quick and brief, "Done." Before she could hang up, the low passionless voice said something. "Uncle Alfred."

Jane froze. She stepped on the car break and waited for the other voice to continue speaking. He didn't. Unsmiling and emotionless, she replied, "you're playing a very, very dangerous game, sir." The man on the other line chuckled heartily before returning her reply, "And you, my lady, has entered it."

"You humour me, Littlefinger. Secrets are made to be broken, are they not? Pray, tell me, have you heard the one about sexual relations with a young girl and an old man? Scandalous, may I say."

"I do not play well with mockery, child," he seethed, earning a small smile from the girl on the other end of the line, "But I do hold a vey sinister resentment to those who frolic with the meaning."

"How poetic, Lord. But, you must be mistaking the meaning of resentment with simply 'holding a grudge'. A very normal thing between the ages of 8 and 16 within the female anatomy, I should say."

"Your sass enchants me in the least way possible. I will hear none of it. Let this be a warning. I know you. I know your association. I know your connections. You play me wrong and your only downfall will be your exposure. This very unfortunate event will cause a stir -

"And by your meanings, stir is equal to a war?"

Ignoring her, he continued on, "And it is only natural for us to be questioned about the mishaps-

She interrupted, "This is not what is agreed. No, to answer your question, I am not speaking with apprehension. I am speaking with regulation. When this scandalous suicide is uncovered and when it miraculously converts into a killing, I will inform you that without a doubt the association that I happen to be under will not appear once in the headlines. You and your country will be questioned but that won't be their first option. I'll be surprise if they even choose you. But let me make this clear, Lord. You expose one little thing about me, and you will not have the end of my wrath, you will live in it."

"Your sweet, sweet sister does say her greetings. She misses her parents dearly but I've never heard her mention you. Bittersweet, is it not? Do keep in touch.. Arya." *click*

Jane put her phone down and started the car again. Eyes on the road, she drove through the harsh weather.

It was nearing 22:30. During the drive, a blizzard seemed to form as the time passed. There were no cars in sight and the fog lights of the black car were no use at all. Just as the blinker for the motor oil seemed to blink brightly against the darkness of Jane's surroundings, she neared an empty petrol station. Parking the car next to an oil pump near the station exit, she put on her leather gloves and put on a grey beanie with a matching coat to cover the bleakness and suspicion of her inner clothing.

She pocketed a $50 note into her black pant pocket and opened the door. Once she put in $35 of petrol, she headed towards the window ledge of the station store. A middle aged man with grey hair sticking out of his beanie seemed to be on the opposite side of the counter . He gave her a toothy grin and took the 50 dollar note, exchanging it with a $10 note and a $5.

"Thank you," she murmured and started to head back to her vehicle. Thud. She turned her head and squinted back at the station window. There was no sign of the grey haired man. Hesitant, she turned back and walked to the counter again. She glanced back towards her car. Nothing appeared out of the norm. As she got outside the counter window, she saw him. The man was sprawled on the ground, face connecting with the hard stone floor. She noticed the mans neck, a needle like bullet seemed to be immersed half way through it. A sleeping mixture, no doubt. Spiked at the base of the point seemed to have been coated with the liquid mixture.

Before Jane could register the man lying on the ground or the cracked window leading to a small hole mark or the flickering blue light above the gas station, she turned around swiftly, back facing the cashier window, and extracted her gun. She held the weapon with two hands, kneeling slowly. With one knee to the ground, she scanned her surroundings. It was dark and the small blizzard seemed to grow stronger at the worst time possible.

She scanned forward again, slowly taking in the dark shapes of what seemed to be either oil pumps, bins, window washer buckets, and her car. Crunch. She heard the sound as clear as day. She shifted her body left and fired at the what seemed to be transparent figure, kneeling over what looked like a sniper shaped gun. Thump went the body, concealing the weapon. Jane remained perfectly still, almost too sure that there were more than just one person.

Crunch. She fired her second shot. And as quickly as the noise had entered, it disappeared once again, emitting a thump from the second person lying on the floor. Quite an amount of time had passed and 8 people (excluding the man in the gas store) lay unconscious on the ground around Jane. As the 8th person hit the ground, she waited for another sound to enter her ear. 5 minutes pass. 6. Then 9. Then 15 minutes pass and when there seemed to be no sounds whatsoever, an hour went by. During that time, Jane moved towards a green bin near the store for cover as she waited for the next target.

An hour passed and 8 men still lay unconscious on the floor. Jane, risking a decision, decided to change her usual regulations and stood up from her defence position and slowly walked to where each men lay, starting with the one closest to her. His attire was in full camouflage attire, the colour of snow.

These men seem too professional to be just bandits, she thought. Suspicious, Jane reached inside his jumper to get a feel of anything she could grab onto for later research. I.d, a wallet, anything. Nothing. She shifted him onto his back and took hold of his weapon. She held it up with precision. Carved onto the side were the initials W.E.

Not even a heartbeat passed before she knew what it stood for. "Wayne Enterprises," she murmured, more to herself than to the open cold and snow. She knew it was that. The weapon seemed so foreign and so alien. Even the attire of the men were above any standard and expertly garments.

Before any thought rushed to her mind she held the gun firmly and drew back the ammunition opening. Nothing. No bullets were evident. It was empty. Crunch. But the threat was still there. She twirled so quickly, so violently that her peripheral vision was briefly impaired, though for only less than a second. With the other gun forgotten on the floor, she now held her own, directly in front of her, one hand gripping the familiar metal and the other reaching for her knife stashed under her coat at the side of her hip.

"You've done well, I am surprised. You are not like the other women, I must say," said the foreign and deep voice. She saw him covered in the same attire as the men lying on the floor. But he had no weapon. She knew that they were surrounded and with that confirmation, she did not lower her weapon at all.

His face was also covered from his nose to his neck. She couldn't recognise him from his face. His voice felt alien even. She didn't know him. Her gun was aimed at his stomach as she watched his eyes. Glasses, she noticed. He was wearing glasses. Still, nothing came to her mind.

"Ah, you seem lost. I would be if I was in your posi-

He stopped mid-sentence as Jane redirected her gun point towards his head. Silence was born as the wind seemed to be getting stronger, mixing with the falling snow. As her hands were stilled by years of practice, she noticed the mans eyes. Was it squinting? No. He was smiling. He was amused. Jane stood still, no emotions displayed on her face and no words forthcoming. Irritation was at the back of her mind but she didn't want to give in to regretful emotional displays.

"And I thought all ladies would be great conversation holders," he commented, breaking the silence. "Though I believe that you are not like most women." He glanced at the gun and gave a light shake with his head before chuckling again, ever so lightly. "Is this triggered by the heat of the moment or are you just happy to see me?" Silence reigned once more. He stared at her and she him. She had patience. She could wait all night if she had to.

The man tittered, clearly irritated. "Put that gun down, girl.' Girl? Who did he think he was, she thought. She held the gun steadier than ever, hiding the irritation of her lip bite behind the gun. "Let me say this again. Put. That. Down. I am not alone here."

And he wasn't. She looked down at her chest and not 1 or 2 but 4 red dots lay around her heart and 1 was pointed in the middle of it. She looked back up at the man. Her stance was more rigid than ever but, choosing the logical option, dropped the gun on the floor. She did not look away from the mans light yet intense stare.

"What is your name?" asked the man. Jane stared into his eyes with a glint of annoyance sparkling in her eyes. He noticed it before it disappeared. He smiled and put his hands up innocently and said, "yes, yes, I know. That was a very stupid question. Shall we start off with a different note?" Unsurprisingly, silence was heard. Again. "And that, also, was a stupid question," he muttered to himself.

He took his right glove off and gave Jane a hard stare before saying, "Jane, it is an honour to meet you. My name is Lucious Fox, business manager to Wayne Enterprises. I've come to get you." He held out his right ungloved hand towards her. She glanced at it then back towards her own chest. The red dots were still aimed on her. She looked up to see the mans face in an apologetic smile, not that she could see his mouth, but she could tell. Anyone could. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly.

Then she took the mans hand in a firm grasp. Darkness met her before she could even whip out her knife.

As you might know, the story line isn't really clear. I've made it that way because I want to elaborate on it through out the next chapters... (If you guys want me to continue).

This will be very different to the actual comics or/and books. Some characters will be used with the same personality and others will be used differently. Don't like, don't read. Though I am kind of self conscious so please like very much :)