A/N The big reveal I think everyone's been waiting for...dun dun dun! I hope it doesn't disappoint. Please, please see the end for an important author's notes that will hopefully answer everyone's questions, explain more about the third inmate, and also has a disclaimer.

Thanks so much for the response guys, please keep the love and reviews coming! I love feedback and questions :D Hope you enjoy!


FOUR

Bane sits, brooding in his cell, wondering how it had come to the point when he was desperately looking forward to the visit from Commissioner Gordon. He didn't even dignify Crane with a glance, the scrawny man happily scurrying about his pen stark naked save for the misshapen rags on his face.

Save me from the madmen before I start barking as well.

"Bane...Big Bane...Bane!"

"I liked you better when you were catatonic."

Crane points fervently to the metal door to the wing, his finger jabbing excitedly in the air. "Do you smell it?"

Bane growls in annoyance, his morning peace disturbed. "Smell what?"

"Blood."

The door to their wing hisses open, startling Bane. He sees three figures, all clad in black with hoods over their faces, stride in. They are armed and from the glimpse of the guards' quarter outside Bane sees their regular keepers lying face down on the floor in a pool of blood.

Bane instantly rises to his feet, his legs and arms settling into a defensive stance, but the faceless men pay him no attention. They swipe a key card on the pad to cell number Three and kick the door open.

Crane is laughing, damn the man, he's laughing throughout the whole thing.

The men pull the figure from the mechanical chair, brusquely, and lie it down on the cell floor. They begin to disassemble the chair, and amazingly it divides into hidden compartments and tubes. The men move in coordination as if they have practised this procedure for months, even years.

The different sections are opened and laid out in a peculiar order. They callously strip the medical smock from the figure's body.

There are several contraptions, a mixture of metal plates and rings with tubing and switches. When they place slim braces around each of the figure's major joints, the braces hiss and snap shut of their own accord, emitting a high tinny noise and Bane watches as the muscles in each of the figure's limbs begin to spasm violently and harden.

Bio-mechanical augmentations...their design reminds him a little of his own mask, and of what they found in Wayne-tech Applied Sciences, but the designs of these are slightly cruder. Less streamlined.

Bane watches as the figure's back arches, perhaps its mouth is open in a silent scream of pain, the muscle contractions finally stop and it slumps back to the floor. In this short time the musculature of its limbs have already changed drastically. The men take out contoured plates of metal with the odd tubing, and Bane sees that they are shaped to the body. However, on the underside of the plating are sharp needle points that end in a hooked barb. He watches as they place the plates around the calves, thighs, biceps, forearms, torso, all where major muscle groups are. The needle barbs quickly pierce into the skin and with a hiss, the plate is sucked into place and sticks.

What makes Bane's eyes widen are the glimpses of the puncture wound where a small ring of raw flesh opens, but no blood spills forth.

What occurs next is just as incredible. The men prop up the figure slightly and Bane sees that there is a hole where its heart should be. And the hole is full of gears.

One of the men takes out an air pump and blasts small bursts of pressurized air into the hole, dust flying out of it. Another brings over a small can of oil and greases the different parts. Finally, the third man brings over what looks to be an elaborate, copper key. Its handle resembles the turn key of a clock, and its stem is a section of different plates, hooks, and teeth following a complicated pattern. Reverently, he places the key into the clockwork chest, turning the handle gently this way and that and there is a 'click' every time a section fits into place.

Finally the men rip open a duffel bag they had brought in with them and pull out a suit made of black fibre. It looks like it is made of a blend of leather and lightweight armour, similar to what Selina Kyle wears, except that on the inside there are dozens of barbs again, following the line of the seams. The men drape each section of the suit carefully over the figure, and seemingly of its own accord the barbs find flesh and with a hiss snap into place.

When they reach the chest, they slip a clear plate on top of the clockwork circle with a hole in the middle for the key handle. The suit is lain overtop of that, hissing and anchoring itself into place. Just as one of the men reach for the handle, the figure's arm shoots up and stops him.

Bane watches as the figure grasps the handle and then begins to crank it. Once, twice, three times in a counter-clockwise direction. The key begins turning idly in a clockwise direction, one revolution per six seconds.

The men bow their heads as the key turns, and Bane can hear the curious little clicks and whirs of the clockwork inside, and then they snap two full-gloved gauntlets made of a firmer armour over her hands and arms. Two armoured greaves and boots are slid onto her legs.

She reaches one arm behind her, presses her index finger to the floor, and with the lightest push Bane watches as she rises up, her ankles bending and straightening as she goes from lying flat to standing up tall in a graceful arc, as if a rope had been tied around her middle and pulled her up. He knows he has trained his body to be able to perform feats that require physical perfection, but what she has done speaks to an impossible core strength.

He wonders about the suit, the augmentations, and the bizarre ritual-like process that created her before his eyes.

The men bow their heads and one brings out a mask, hard, smooth, completely white and places it in front of her face. She unties the gauze wrappings, letting them fall to the floor, and the mask is pressed against her. There is the familiar hiss and the 'snick' of more barbs piercing her flesh and anchoring the mask there. The mask is a blank, completely smooth surface and its only openings are two holes for her eyes. Bane watches as two tinted panes slide forward, shielding the eyes, before sliding back upwards again like eyelids.

A coarse brush is brought forward, glistening with a liquid that hisses on the concrete when drops fall to the floor. They brush her hair with it in a few broad strokes and instantly the straw-like tangle straightens into hardened strands, swishing unnaturally as if they are made of plastic. She snaps her head experimentally to the side and her hair flicks out, whistling in the air with a dangerous arc, the tips snapping in the air like a whip.

Her arm snaps outward and her hand spreads open expectantly. One of the men place two long blades in her hand and she whirls them expertly in her hands, describing ribbons in the air as she gets the feel for them again. They resemble tonfa's, a short handle protruding two-thirds of the way up the hilt. At rest, she grips the hilts with the blades pointed downwards, following her forearms and ending right at her elbow. Two hollow sections on the underside of her gauntlets hiss open and the handle hilt jumps upwards, locking into place with a small burst of steam.

She looks more like an insect now, her armour like a shiny, hard carapace, the blades' main edges pointing outwards and following a slight curve. They look like parts of her arm, wicked pincers ready to flash out like the attack of a praying mantis.

"Ah, I see you are assembled." Doctor Nikolaj Cebjan strides in, blood speckled on his face and stinking of gunpowder. Though he is wearing one of his usual black suits, he has a trench coat draped over his shoulders, a wide-brimmed hat on his head and various guns strapped onto a chest harness. He smiles and nods politely to Bane, and then goes over to cell number Two where Crane watches him. He unlocks the door, tosses Crane his coat and jerks his head towards the door.

The three men bow respectfully to him and then dash out of the hallway where the muffled sounds of men shouting angrily can be heard through the heavy doors. She flexes her hands, and strides out of the cell, following after them.

Cebjan glares at her and in a scolding tone says, "Cronin..."

The smooth white mask holds no emotion, but she pauses mid-step, and almost irritably whirls around on her heel in a perfect circle and clicks her way over to Bane's cell.

Cebjan tosses her a small, black square which she catches over her shoulder without so much as glancing back. She places it over the lock on the cell door. The tinted panes slide down on the white mask's eye holes and Bane plugs his ears.

The door opens with a small explosion, swinging on its hinges. She turns sharply on her heel again and marches down the corridor, passing Cebjan and following the other three men.

Cebjan now holds out a hand to Crane, coaxing him upwards. Crane gathers the trench coat around his naked body, takes Cebjan's hand and rises to his feet. Bane strides out of his cell and stops in front of the doctor.

"You have the pleasure of being one of the few men who have genuinely surprised me, Nikolaj. If that truly is your name."

Cebjan gives him a predatory smile, all hints of the mild doctor have vanished. "I wish I could reciprocate the compliment."

Bane arches an eyebrow at him in a dangerous form of 'oh really?' but before he can say anything they hear the harsh rapport of gunfire and screams. Cebjan pulls out a semi-automatic rifle and begins walking.

"Come, we can't let Cronin have all the fun."


They must have taken Blackgate prison by surprise, as the small party strides down the corridors with little confrontation. The prisoners inside the cells they pass shake the bars and scream, begging to be let out or cheering. Bane sees dead guards along the way and the few they surprise are instantly gunned down.

Crane scurries along, the billowing trench coat making him seem even smaller, but his eyes are alight behind the uniform rags and he is humming with excitement. He points upwards to the ceiling and laughs. "They're here."

Before anyone can ask, "who?" the sounds of sirens and alarms blare from outside. Cebjan doesn't seem disturbed in the slightest, merely remarking, "Gotham's finest have certainly improved their response time."

Cronin flicks her hands downwards and with a 'snick' the blades drop from her gauntlets and into her grip. They whirl in the air until she is holding them upwards like two, large carving knives.

"Come out with your hands behind your head!" Bane recognizes the Commissioner's voice, even if it is garbled by a megaphone.

They pass by the door to the back entrance of the prison, and Bane wonders why they don't make use of that exit...though, the Gotham police have probably surrounded the entire building. He also has some suspicions of their good doctor...

...and one of them is confirmed when Cebjan kicks open the main entrance doors to Blackgate prison, his assault rifle chattering as he lays down a wave of suppressive fire. The man is arrogant.

Bane can hear the thunder of helicopter blades ahead, and he sees all of Gotham's finest and SWAT assembled outside like an army. There is an ongoing firefight which he is sure he will need to pay attention to soon, but for the moment he breathes in fresh air and feels the sun on his face.

"Cease fire immediately! You are surrounded!"

Bane sees Gordon, ducked behind the door of a squad car, and gives him a mocking wave. Gordon turns an ugly shade of puce when he sees him and roars, "You're not getting away on my watch, Bane!"

Cronin, as Cebjan had called her, is a flurry of motion, the blades rotating in circles in front of her faster than humanly possible, disappearing into blurs. Bane can hear the 'ping's of bullets bouncing off her long knives. Bane has seen impressive blade-work from the League of Shadows. Part of advanced training even included dodging gunfire and he has seen Ra's al Ghul catch a bullet with his bare hand out of mid-air. But this mechanical insect is somehow beyond the capabilities of even perfect men. Surely she cannot repel all fire.

And he is right and watches three bullets make their way past her whirling shield of blades and thud into her chest. Her body jerks back slightly with each impact, but it doesn't stop her in the slightest. Instead he watches as she begins to sprint forward, leaping into the air and landing with a crash on top of one of the squad cars, the deadly blades carving down any police officer within her range as if they were made of paper.

What on earth are those made of?

"Do you need a ride?" Bane looks to Cebjan who has a smug look on his face as a black helicopter hovers down above their heads, the wind from the propellors plucking at his clothing and hair. Thick cables fall from the helicopter and Cebjan tosses one to Bane and a second to Crane, who has his hands clapped over his ears and is still laughing.

Bane takes the cable without need for further prompting and the helicopter lifts into the air. Crane slides a few feet down his lead before gripping tighter and begins to shimmy his way up. The three hooded men that accompanied them make no move for the air lift, but instead run headlong into the gunfire.

They each hold a detonator in their hands and explode.

Cronin lunges off the hood of the squad car a split second before and is carried up into the air. Her arm snakes out and catches the landing track of the helicopter, scaling it easily and tumbling inside as it ascends upwards.

They leave Gotham down below, cursing and burning as the sky swallows them up.


The helicopter flies them out across the water, leaving Gotham behind. Crane huddles in one corner, the fierce winds whipping the coat around him and threatening to lift him bodily into the air. Bane looks out behind them, the winds stinging his eyes, but he can still see the dark shapes of their pursuers, two federal jets.

Cebjan looks outside as well, noting that they are still being chased, but looks unconcerned. He glances at the watch tied to his wrist before unbuckling it and tucking it safely into his shirt. He hands Bane a vest.

Bane looks at it, his hands squeezing the padding. "This is not a parachute."

"They'll be able to see parachutes."

Cebjan buckles his floatation vest on, and then moves over to help Crane into one as well. Seeing no other option, Bane puts on the vest offered to him, though it is too tight around the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. Cronin, he notices, doesn't wear a vest.

"Ten second countdown," the pilot says and Cebjan nods, grasping his shoulder in a comradely fashion. He winks at Bane.

"Four...three...two..." Cebjan stands by the opening, and then without ceremony, covers his mouth and nose with a hand, hugs his arms to his chest and steps out into the sky.

Bane watches as he plummets to the blue expanse of the ocean.

Cronin grabs Crane, folding his arms into his chest, and then leaps out after Cebjan. Bane wastes no more time and follows after them, lunging into the sky.

The helicopter explodes a second later, and he can feel the heat on the back of his neck, the pressure wave hurtling him forward.

The drop feels long, though it lasts less than a minute. There is no time to wonder what Cebjan's plan is or if he has been betrayed. Bane does not fear pain, he lives with it already every day, and he is accustomed to leaps of faith alone.

When he hits the water the impact knocks all the breath from his lungs and he sinks into freezing cold and darkness, a roaring in his ears. He blacks out.


A/N

Some of you may recognize Cronin from somewhere and that is because she is NOT an original character. At least, not completely. Kroenen is a character from the first Hellboy film, a Nazi scientist/soldier in the service of Rasputin, and the idea of the clockwork suit, steampunk technology and weaponry are all derived from this. Karl Ruprecht Kroenen is a character from the Hellboy comics, but he is wildly different in the film. In the comics he is more of a neurotic scientist with no combat abilities whatsoever, and Del Toro changed this up for the movie. I'm going off the Kroenen in the comics as a scientist who would have created the suit to make an army of super soldiers, rather than using it for himself, and Cronin being such an experiment, and also a re-imagining of the film's character. Dr. Kroenen will be mentioned later on in the story in such a capacity.

So that being said, all credit must go to Mike Mignola, Guillermo Del Toro and Dark Horse comics. The only really original character in all this is Dr. Cebjan.

And yes, Dark Horse and Hellboy are not part of the DC universe. But what I love about comics are the multitude of crossovers, overlapping of the universes, big team mash-up's and borrowed baddies. This is a very comic book trope, which I've spliced in with the gritty, more realistic Nolan-verse. Why? Because this is just supposed to be fun. Our characters have now broken out of Blackgate and it can only get zanier from here.

So for those worried about a potential Mary-Sue or OC takeover, don't. I hope you'll hang tight in this ride with me, because I swear the real meat of the story is only just beginning. Stay tuned ;D