Susan could see why Daggett – oh how he seemed so far away now; she wondered idly what had become of him – had regarded Wayne as his one and only competitor. Wayne Enterprises was more than impressive. The tower of blue glass and steel rose gracefully in the center of Gotham and the uppermost floor, set with wide polished windows, allowed for a brilliant view of the entire city. Susan admired it now, smiling in the sunlight. Her pale skin opened to the warm glow; the sensation was nearly orgasmic.

She paid little mind to the audience gathered in the elegant conference room. The board members. Two of them were missing, however, as Bane and his company had been informed. One Lucius Fox and one Miranda Tate. So they waited and she had strayed to the windows, hopeful for a bit of energy. The botanical part of her, the part she believed that had kept her alive down there in the dark, was hungry for the light. She was needless to say happy to be out and about. Even if it was on Bane's leash.

The sound of voices reached her ears and she turned to see that the absentee board members had arrived, their cheeks still flushed from the chill outside. They happened upon the startling scene and froze; they saw Bane and Bane saw them, addressing them with a civil air.

"How good of you to join us. Chair. President." His hands were fixed at his lapels again, she noted. A power play, a show of easy confidence. "All I need now is one ordinary board member…Mr. Fox, would you like to nominate?"

Susan did not leave her place by the window, but glanced over her shoulder at the trustees. She smiled at the older gentleman's bow tie before locking eyes with the woman. They regarded each other for a moment and Susan thought she saw something more than shock in her pretty green eyes. A sort of vague hostility…But the light flickered away when another board member, an elderly well-dressed fellow, volunteered himself for Bane's pet cause.

Bane headed back towards the elevators, leading the parade of armed men with whom we arrived, ignoring Mr. Fox's objections. Susan was hesitant to leave the sunshine, but followed after them, falling to the back of the group. An elevator was called and they shuffled in, the henchmen prodding the new captives with the noses of their guns. The ride down to the basement was unspeakably tense.

Underground again. Susan missed the sunlight already. They walked into a long open space with a low ceiling, lit with row upon row of fluorescent tubes. On the other end of the room were more of Bane's men, waiting. Susan caught sight of her father, sitting abjectly on a metal rack, removed from the group and surrounded by more goons. Her pace quickened as she moved toward him but a deafening blast of dynamite drew her attention across the room. The men had blown straight through the wall. She watched as Bane climbed easily over the rubble and passed out of sight.

Her father was wrenched to his feet and shoved forward and she was nudged gently in the ribs by a passerby. Lucius Fox.

"Best to keep moving," he murmured and she tried to smile for his sake as she followed after them. She was as much a captive as he was.

The room was a bunker, striped with light that streamed in from above ground. A shallow gully of murky water ran along the floor and in the middle of the room – the most majestic piece of scientific technology Susan had ever seen. A frame of iron and steel reached to the far corners of the room, holding at its center a perfectly round hunk of machinery. From what she could recall from half-forgotten pages of scientific journals, it looked like a nuclear reactor, or the core of one. But the last time she'd even heard of such technology was –

Recognition hit her so suddenly she nearly faltered in her steps. This was her father's work. What he had so long labored for, a profound achievement in nuclear physics, a project he had started in good will…at Bane's complete disposal. She watched as he mounted a small platform and began tinkering with a touchpad. A few lights flickered on.

"Turn it on," he growled, fixing Fox with a hard look.

Fox simply refused. To that, Bane motioned to one of his many gun men who forced his weapon on Fox's associate, the older trustee.

"I only need one other board member. There are eight more waiting upstairs," he gestured with his finger for emphasis.

"I won't do it." Still Fox refused. Susan had to admire his bravery. The click of a trigger. Brave, but stupid.

"Alright, stop." The woman spoke up suddenly, her voice tinged with an unexpected accent, her tone pleading and quiet. "Lucius, you'll kill this man and yourself and barely slow them down," she murmured as she stepped with a dainty sureness onto the platform where Bane stood and placed her hand on the keypad. The scanner whined lowly.

Fox reluctantly followed. His mouth was a grim line as he placed his hand on the keyboard. The other board member was next. The core began to glow with a cool blue light. Susan saw her father's face illuminated; through the blood and the dirt she could see his fascination, the wonder that they both felt as they watched the machine come to life.

"Do your work," Bane commanded and gestured to the machine. Her father shrugged out of his already sullied jacket and glanced miserably at Bane as he rolled up his sleeves. His first steps toward the reactor were tentative.

"Take them to the surface." The men, guns ready, began to herd the hostages back toward the previous room. "People of their status deserve to witness the next era of western civilization." As they left, Miranda Tate threw one final glance over her shoulder at the masked man. Those green eyes lingered on Susan for a moment more…a strange enmity in those wary eyes…and then she was gone.

"Come, Susan." His voice crept up her spine and echoed off the water and the stone of the bunker walls. "Don't you want to see the culmination of your father's work?"

She walked thoughtfully toward the platform, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "The next era of western civilization?" Bane hardly acknowledged her, his attention drawn by the reactor. There was a curious light in his eye, but not the familiar kind she'd seen before; his fists, hanging down by his sides, kept clenching and unclenching. He was visibly excited. She grew nervous with such abruptness that she was almost sick to her stomach.

Something was so wrong. She could feel it, smell it in the air almost. Destruction, with an imminence that frightened her. She had never felt that way before…she'd never felt anything so strongly and with more certainty in her life.

"You're going to kill us all, aren't you?" The question drew his gaze away from the core; the answer was fixed plainly in his eyes.

"I always knew you were quick, my dear" he mused and brushed past her to perch on one of the steps of the platform. "We could use more minds like yours in our ranks."

"I am not one of your men," she spat and he chuckled.

"I know – I am thankful."

"And I never will be," she insisted, sneering down at him. He only smiled, that dangerous light playing in his eyes. Her very blood was on edge and her nerves only worsened when at last her father stepped away from the core and gave his verdict.

"It's done. This is now a four-megaton nuclear bomb."

Susan's breath caught in her throat and she exchanged a grave look with her father as she lessened the space between them. By her father's side, she took in the magnitude of the core, glowing radiantly and humming with life. It seemed less beautiful now that she knew what it was…

"Pull the core out of the reactor," Bane ordered, gesturing to some of his men.

Her father gave a start, horrified. "You can't! This is the only power source capable of sustaining it – if you move it, the core will decay in a matter of months."

"Five, by my calculations," he replied easily and his mask gave a sinister hiss.

"But then it will go off!" Her father's protests were weak and he was shuddering. She took his arm in hers to stop the shakes and was careful not to harm him.

Bane stood proudly and descended from the platform. "For the sake of your family, Dr. Pavel," his eyes flashed as he locked eyes with Susan, "I do hope so."

And they watched, frozen with furious fear, as the bevy armed men began to disconnect the core.

When they were mobile once more, the wind tearing mercilessly through her hair, Susan tried to steady her heart. She pressed her face to the hard leather of Bane's back, seeking shelter from the chill, and breathed in low, steady repetitions. In and out. She closed her eyes and tried to imitate the slow, calm breathing of the man at the head of the bike.

But she couldn't. Her mind was racing along with the road. The danger was so imminent she could taste it in the back of her mouth. Iron. The bomb trailed after them, stored in the hull of a massive freight truck. She felt herself humming with anxious energy, fear for her father, expectant, uneasy…They arrived at the stadium by a back entrance and descended once more. Susan could hear the roar of a boisterous crowd and every now and then catch a yellow flash of a home team jersey.

What the hell were they doing here?

Bane led the pack and his men followed obediently, rolling the bomb on a large metal trolley. Its wheels whistled quietly on the stone floor. Susan fell back and away from Bane to walk beside her father. He didn't notice her absence and strode on.

She almost didn't know what to say. Her mouth was dry and her head with spinning. "What are they going to do?" She hesitated over the word "dad"; it didn't feel right.

His broken face gave a grimace. "I know as much as you do, Susan." He looked over his shoulder at the bomb and then at her. "How did you end up with these men? With the masked man?"

"The same way you did," she replied, "I know too much now and he won't let me go." She watched the massive shoulders of the man at the front and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "He won't kill me though…"

"Count your blessings," he murmured gravely and gave a hard shudder.

A blessing indeed, she sneered but kept her venom at bay. "I'll keep you safe."

He peered into her face and his eyes were desolate and empty and furious. "With what? The word of a terrorist?"

Her jaw slackened, taken aback by his sudden contempt and was about to reassure him further when their procession came to a halt. They had reached the entrance to the field. Susan squinted out into the arena at the sea of bright yellow, quiet with reverence and became suddenly aware of the voice ringing through the stadium. A child, nervously, reciting the national anthem.

"What a lovely, lovely voice," Bane observed, his hands folded politely in front of him. He beckoned to her and she reluctantly resumed her place at his side. "When I signal, you will demolish the field." She stared at him and when she did not confirm his command, his gaze swiveled to meet hers, all at once calm and threatening. "Or on my word, I will kill him myself."

Her mouth ran dry. "I don't have the strength to - "

"You will find the strength."

They stared at one another for a moment more before she turned away, approaching the mouth of the passageway so she could stand in the sunlight. She rubbed her hands together, breathing deeply, surely. The anthem was reaching its climax.

"Dr. Pavel," Bane chided, "Your daughter has witnessed your good work. Come see what she is capable of….let the games begin."

She glanced over her shoulder, received the signal and raised her hands to the light. A whistle sounded somewhere and the crowd began its riotous chorus of applause and cheers. She closed her eyes.

Something moved within her. An ancient energy resounding at last and she felt the strength of the earth around her, echoing up from its very core. The ground began to rumble and she braced herself, her hands still held aloft as though she were performing some sort of religious ceremony. A benediction of nature. A force of nature.

Mother nature.

She hardly heard the screams of horror and the thundering of the field as it crumbled fantastically, bowing to her will. When at last she opened her eyes, her knees were shaking with the force of her power and she could feel Bane's hand on her shoulder. She let him guide her forward, into the light of the arena and its ruins, at once horrified and excited by the destruction she had caused.

The air was trembling with the shrill sound of terror and panic. She stepped idly over the body of a referee and Bane stooped to retrieve the man's headpiece. He held the mike to the mouth of his mask as he strode further into the arena and raised his hand to the frightened masses.

"Gotham, take control…take control of your city!" A hush fell over the crowd as they waited, watched as the men rolled the bomb out onto the field. Susan scanned the crowd, looking past the frightened faces to see that Bane's men had infiltrated the stands; they were running the show now. "This," Bane began with a grand gesture to the core, "Is the instrument of your liberation!"

Glancing around, Susan caught sight of herself on the jumbo-tron screen on the other end of the stadium. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and looked away. Shoving past her, a pair of goons took hold of her father and pushed him forward. He fell to his knees in front of Bane who he regarded with a look of apprehension and loathing.

"Identify yourself to the world." Bane held the microphone to his lips.

Her father hesitated, quickly glancing at her. "Dr. Leonid Pavel…nuclear physicist."

"And what…what is this?" Bane inquired and shook his hand at the bomb, his voice brimming with playful curiosity..

Another moment's hesitation. "It's – a fully primed neutron bomb. With a blast radius of six miles."

"And who is capable of disarming such a device?"

The hushed arena waited anxiously for his answer. He gave a small shake of his head. "Only me."

"Only you," Bane repeated thoughtfully, mimicking the gesture. "Thank you, good doctor." And with a movement so sudden, so visceral, he reached around and broke his neck. The sound of it echoed out across the field, along with the screams of a few onlookers, and the man fell in a crumpled heap at Bane's feet.

Susan was too horrified to scream. She felt the force of it tear through her, felt her face grow hot with blood and fury, felt her knees go weak with shock. She saw the ground come up around her but was caught suddenly by a pair of rough arms. One of the armed men. She fought against him, kicking wildly, wanting badly to go to her father. Dead. The tears were warm and heavy on her cold face and she couldn't see anything for the red in her eyes. Bane was talking. She didn't care, she didn't care. He was a murderer and a liar and she wanted nothing more than to hurt him, to have the ground rise up and swallow him. But the man supporting her had bound her hands as if he knew her intentions and he held her fast as she shook against him, sobbing dryly.

At last, the shriek of a microphone as Bane tossed the head piece over his shoulder. It landed with a thud on her father's still chest. She lost it then and the scream reached its culmination at last. She tore out of the man's grasp and stumbled toward her father, fresh tears falling freely from her eyes. Within feet of the body she was stopped once more, staggering into Bane's hard, solid figure. He would not let her pass even as she tore at him.

"Do not make a scene, Susan" he chided gently and winding a strong arm around her waist, practically hauled her from the field. "We leave with dignity." She caught sight of herself on the screen once more. Her cheeks stained grey with tears, her hair a dizzy mess, sticking in large strands to her red and swollen face. She looked wild; she felt wild.

And they were in the dark again. Her feet shuffled beneath her and her head reeled miserably as she moved through the shadow, Bane's hand on the back of her neck and chaos erupting in the arena above them. Her mouth was a thin hard line. The tears had stopped but her chest continued to heave with muted sobs. The bikes were where they left them and she closed her eyes as they began their parade through the city streets.

She was quiet.

But everything was burning inside; roiling with a hideous, irrepressible fury that did not manifest itself until they at last descended once more into the sewers. She was still shaking with the shock when Bane led her into his quarters.

"Do not cry, my dear" he cooed with a gentle pat on her back as he moved past her. He shrugged easily out of his coat and went to the hearth to rekindle the fire. "Your father's death will not go unnoted. He died for a noble cause. A higher purpose."

At his words, suddenly, something snapped and reckless impulse took hold, sent her flying across the room. With an almost inhuman agility, she launched herself onto the table and pushed off to gain leverage, bringing her knees into Bane's back. He lurched forward from the unexpected attack and nearly had her in his grasp once more when he faltered, his eyes widening in panic as a low mechanical hissing filled the room.

Susan had successfully undone his mask. Her fingers moved almost by memory, exactly as she had seen him do, and the clasps fell apart neatly in her hands. She took advantage of his surprise, quickly slipping off the mask, and stumbled away and out of his grasp; she watched as the pain descended swiftly on the man before her, the agony that was his sovereign, that ruled his life.

He couldn't move for the pain; he remained on his knees, his back to her, perfectly still save for the tremors now racking his body. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with violent shuddering gasps and the gleaming beads of sweat begin to gather at his now-bare temples. His anguish shook the air; it was palpable.

Susan watched, unflinching, the mask dangling in her left hand, her heart hammering away in her chest. Perhaps now he would be able to feel half the agony he had exacted upon her. She wondered if long-tern exposure to the pain would kill him; she wanted to find out…And then –

"Susan…"

It was so quiet she nearly missed it for the blood thrumming loudly in her ears. A voice, his voice. A sound so sorrowful it softened the hard contempt in her eyes. Without the mask he was a man, she could see now, a miserable creature. As miserable as she was…she could run. She could run away now with the mask and leave him for dead. The thought thrilled her, moved her to a cruel overwhelming joy and yet –

She moved forward with certainty, her hand held out before her. She felt that same stirring, of power awakening within her. Except now, she did not wield it to destroy. His skin was smooth and warm with perspiration beneath her fingers and she felt him flinch. But then his breathing slowed and the shuddering stopped as she willed the power in her touch to heal him, to numb his pain.

"Do you feel that?" she asked, her voice a hateful whisper, "I can take your pain away – and just as easily poison you with it. You need me. Don't forget that." She tossed his mask and it landed with a mechanical clunk some feet away. She was already out of the room when she heard him move for it and she was gone before she heard him take his first rapturous wheezing breath.

0000

She was still running when she reached the surface, the cold air washing over her in an awesome wave. Still trembling with her own potent energy and the miracle of her escape, at last, she moved the lid of the manhole back into place and glancing around at her unfamiliar surroundings, began down the alleyway in which she now found herself.

Luck was on her side. She'd found the sewers and its passages to be incredibly deserted; the men were "elsewhere" once more. No doubt out in the streets of Gotham, heralding Bane's liberation. Susan had given it little thought and focused on the freedom she had now attained.

A mass of grey clouds had moved over the sun and the light was white and nearly blinding. It hurt her eyes but she was thankful for it nonetheless. Thankful at last to be out of the darkness. The chill clung to her skin as she rounded a corner and spilled out into the street. Glancing quickly at the signs hanging above the nearest intersection, she attempted to estimate her location. Her thoughts were crashing about mercilessly in her head. She needed clarity and she need to collect herself, to find shelter. She couldn't go back home…anywhere was better…

Susan picked up momentum as she crossed the street, peering over her shoulder every other moment; she was sure she'd see Bane barreling after her but she didn't. It was then she noticed how quiet the streets were. If there were any cars they rolled by in solemn silence; windows were dark, cafes were closed, and the sidewalks were barren. Across the street there was a small group of people, men, huddled outside of an empty bar, the smoke from their cigarettes rising in great gray plumes into the chilly breeze.

One of them perked up hearing her pass and they locked eyes; she regarded him with a silent indifference but he continued to stare as she moved away. She had crossed two blocks before she noticed the group was following her and she listened intently to their whispers.

"Is it her?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then get her!"

She took off running then and they followed, tailing her even as she tried to lose them. Stupid! She screamed at herself. Of course…when Bane had made his debut so had she. He had made it impossible for her now, to roam alone. She was just as villainous as he was in the panicked eyes of the public. She dodged around a corner and shimmied into a close alleyway, knocking over a few trashcans in the process, and found herself at a dead end. She cursed quietly, hearing the men behind her, and looked wildly about. She spotted a manhole some feet away and deliriously considered moving back into the sewers…

No.

She would fight. She steeled herself so when she felt an arm snake around her neck she was filled with an unshakeable resolve.

"You look awfully familiar, lady." The man's breath was hot against her cheek. The other men came into view. A motley crew of five.

"Yeah," another chimed in, "You look a lot like that lady we saw at the game this afternoon. The one on the big screen."

"With the terrorist." The word hung like a curse in the air.

One of them stepped closer and peered into her face with an ugly leer. "Are you with Bane?"
She smiled for the pain in her neck. "Don't be silly, darling. I'm right here with you boys." The grip tightened and she gagged.

"No funny business," came the voice in her ear and the other men nodded, grunted in agreement.

"Do you know where the bomb is?" the man before her asked again.

Her eyes flashed. "Let's say that I do…"

"You'll lead us to it," he snarled, glancing around at his buddies, "We'll nip this terrorist's plans in the bud." His pals gave a low triumphant cheer and Susan had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

"Release me then won't you?" she murmured, pouting slightly, "I'm no use to you all tied up like this."

"I beg to differ," cooed the voice in her ear and the men laughed. Her stomach turned with disgust but the arm released her nonetheless. "No funny business," he repeated darkly, jabbing her in the shoulder as she stepped away from him.

"You have nothing to worry about," she lied and deftly rubbed her palms together, readying her seeds and her spores for action, "In fact, I think what you boys are doing," she shook them out and around her and felt herself quiver with vicious energy, "is very heroic."

"Hey – what is that?" One of them called but his voice was swallowed by the sounds of the concrete cracking beneath their feet, giving forth the flora she had sprinkled there. She felt strong for the first time in weeks as the vines grew up around her, weaving around her body, curling around her arm, waiting, ready…

There was a beat. And with a flick of her wrist, she unleashed her fury. The first vine shot out and caught one of them by the ankle and lifted him gracefully; a fierce shake or two and he hit the stone wall of the alley with a sick thud. She reared back as one of them advanced forward to strike her and dodged his blow, simultaneously taking another by the neck. She felt it snap under the strength of her vine and tossed him aside.

The man lurched forward once more to strike her and she caught him by the wrist, bending it with unknown force. "Hit a woman? I don't think so," she cooed and pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened in shock and then rolled back in his head. She threw him into his friends and they stumbled back.

The remaining two looked down at their friend with horror as he began to convulse, foam spilling from his mouth and his lips beginning to swell with angry red blisters.

"What are you?" one of them stuttered, turning green as he stared at her.

Her brow quirked coolly; a vine curled tenderly on her cheek.

"She's history," the other snarled and produced a gun from beneath his jacket. A vine shot out to retrieve it but fell to ash as he fired at it. Susan's fury returned and she flicked her wrist once more; a flurry of vines branched out and managed to lay claim to the pistol and throttle the man but not before he fired once more.

The air was still ripe with the smell of leaves and gunpowder and when the blue smoke cleared, Susan saw that the last man, the sickly one, had run away. Her disappointment was only distracted by the smoldering hole in her jacket and the blood quickly seeping from it. She remembered Stryver and his gun suddenly, absurdly, but this wound drew no comparison; the pain barely registered. But the blood was making a mess of her boots.

"Shit," she cursed and one of the vines came to her aid, wrapping itself tightly around her arm, just above the wound, to act as a tourniquet. She smiled down at it lovingly and breathed a sigh of relief as she felt them curl affectionately in her hair. For once, standing in the midst of her own destruction, even for her wound, she felt at peace…

"Susan, I'm impressed."

The harmony vanished. She closed her eyes and wished hopelessly that she'd just imagined the voice behind her. How did he do that – sneak up on her so easily? She turned slowly, the calm smile falling away from her face.

Bane had recovered and stood before with his characteristic grandeur. The lid to the manhole had been pushed aside at his feet and she idly wondered why she hadn't heard it move.

"How many were there?" he asked politely, observing the blood on the walls.

"Five," she replied shortly, fixing him a look of reproach.

He was silent for a moment, glancing about. "I only count four."

She rolled her eyes. "One of them ran off."

He clucked at her disapprovingly. "Can't have that, dear. No loose ends, no witnesses."

She yielded to a cruel smile as it melted across her lips. "You seem to have difficulty following your own rules."

He moved toward her then but she didn't flinch. Her blood was still humming from her last kill and she could feel the sweet and perilous power return to her, coursing throw her veins, her vines…She had asserted her strength and she made sure that he recognized it.

"Have you come to kiss and make up?" she asked sweetly, turning about to face him. He drew pause as one of her vines snaked past his feet and looked at her over his mask; his eyes were wary, even for the playful light, and they betrayed his caution.

"You're hurt," he stated plainly, nodding at her arm and distracting from her question. She shrugged as he peered down at her. "Come. I will treat the wound. Return the favor." He turned and made his way over to the manhole, slowly vanishing as he moved down the ladder.

She hesitated for a moment after he was gone and glanced back down the alley and toward the street beyond. The clouds had rolled away from the sun and the light shone eerily on the violent scene around her. A crime scene. She knew she had no choice but to follow him. Bane had ruined her by association and now…now she had murdered four men and had left a witness to her crimes.

An unfortunate impasse.

With a sigh, she turned away from her freedom and tried to savor the last remaining rays of sunlight as she descended once more into the sewers, rolling the lid of the manhole in place and throwing herself into darkness.