A/N: I don't live in Aurora, Colorado, but to all the families who have lost friends and family, my prayers are with you. Anyways, I had tickets for the midnight premiere of TDKR and I went. But, turns out, AMC theaters suck and part of the movie choose to skip and never work. Then, in a rush of stupidity, someone pulled the fire alarm. Augh. Big mess. I saw the movie today. Bla- Bla- Blaaaaahhh. Amazing. So. EXPECT SPOILERS. Thank you to all of you who followed and reviewed!


IX.

The beginning of the end can be narrowed down to one moment. A moment, of desperation.

... Tap, tap, tap.

Footsteps against the crisp marble floor. That was all she focused on. Fiona's head hung low, her bangs sweeping across her bloody and sweat matted face. Shame and fear and hate radiated from her being as her arms were shoved and tugged and roughly handled.

The double doors swung open, and her head swung high.

She had been told by a man once... Never show your enemy what they want.

What these monsters wanted was her to cry and wail and beg for her life as they hauled her through the open hall. Her boots dragged behind her, a squeaking of rubber against stone echoing and battling against the shouts and screams of the other mercenaries. Her brothers and sisters in arm. Gotham citizens. Political figures.

On top of his perch, a man in a rough looking suit gazed down upon her, his eyes shielded by a piece of glass and a pair of rather clunky frames. In her state of weakness she laughed loudly, the hall falling into a lull.

Fiona knew he was there, lurking somewhere. She could feel his gaze burn it's way into her spine, as if he was wishing for her to scream out in agony.

Across the way, a golden chair sat in the middle of the open space. Fiona blinked, realizing she was to be seated in it, as if it was mocking her, telling her she sat on a throne of lies and betrayal. The Queen of Backstabbery. A Liar among kings. It had meaning, and though to the other bodies in the room it was simply a place where a person was to be seated, Fiona saw it as much more.

Poetic justice.

Bane was a stickler for it.

The tattoo of the bat she had earned on her first day. Batman's symbol. Gotham's symbol. Batman was Gotham's real reckoning, a man who put himself in front of the bullet for the people. A symbol Bane was destined to destroy.

She cringed. She could feel his gaze again as she was shozed roughly into the throne. Her head swiveled, catching the eyes of comrades and neighbors, their boos and curses flying at her. Fiona thickly swallowed only before opening her mouth and taking a large breath, just as a hammer was banged loudly.

"Order, order!" a voice echoed from the pile of burnt furniture, boxes, bodies and coffins. He adjusted his glasses before clearly his throat, "This young woman, Fiona Woods, was caught dealing a bit of informatiooon to the enemy. A GPD officer. Is this correct, Ms. Woods?"

Jonathan Crane's question rattled her mind and she found her gaze glued to the floor.

"Ms. Wooooods? Hello? Anybody home?"

Fiona said nothing, her hands clasped and posture hunched.

"I'm just going to assume, yes," clapped Crane, "Now, Ms. Woods. Exile, or death?"

A voice from the back of the room spoke. One that made her heart pound and her blood boil.

"Death."


3 Months Prior:

Bane was proud of his work. The burly man examined his hands in a methodical manner, cracking each knuckle carefully and with precision. Sometimes he wished he was different. Sometimes he wished he had soft and gentle hands, instead of calloused and angered. Bane pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and placed his head in his hand, leaning it up against the table as his other drummed loudly on the mahogany.

He didn't move his head, but instead glanced about at the few persons littered about the large room. The chandelier twinkled above, light danced across the table. Bane tried to catch a ray with his fingers, only for it to slip through and skitter away.

John Daggett's home was a large one. The corrupt businessman was on his own rise to power, and though Bane had no care for it, he knew he had to play along with the games now. Bane had to gain trust, and when Daggett made it high enough, he could cut the middleman out. Though, Bane had to admit, the penthouse was much nicer than the sewers. All of his men agreed. The women though, they were the ones who found themselves having a bit too much fun.

Trish, Yuppie's rather... eccentric wife had a taking to the girls, who, Bane really didn't believe he should be calling girls. They were women, strong and fierce and very capable to handle their own. Meghan, the blonde who had a tendency to lay low was the quiet one and just as she leads on, she's one for a bit of stealth, while Brooky, the one female Bane really could live without, was loud and trash talking. Rebecca was a wild card, always one to keep a level head, though the ex-cop was not to be taken for a weak woman. Bane had seen her tear apart fellow humans, and it excited him, so much that he wished to see it again soon.

But then there was Fiona.

He could feel his blood pressure rise and his muscles tense. Not in the good way, either. Bane had met women who could do that, exciting pleasures beyond his wildest dreams. Fiona, however, was not exciting anything out of him and if she was, it was hatred. Bane's fingers curled against the wooden table, his brows knitting furiously together.

She was sly and quick and boastful and had terrible aim. Bane scowled even harder, his eyes tearing into her hunched form as she lazed against on of the pillars, a book in her hands. The man straightened his shoulders. He wanted to hit her again. The time he did, it felt wonderful. Putting her back in place was something that had to be done more often. His fingers curled into a ball and he rapped his knuckles on the rich brown surface.

Discipline.

A thing she clearly lacked.

Bane swallowed. He would fix it. He always fixed things like this. His men either fixed themselves or died, and Bane knew this woman wasn't going to go down without a fight. It was something about her. The way her eyes burned with fury when he stepped into the room.

To know she had the same feeling of hatred was stimulating. To know she held feelings for him was exhilarating.

...Perhaps he was getting too excited. Shifting in the leather chair, Bane kicked the legs of the table lightly, distracting his mind from Fiona's reign.

Within seconds, the things Bane had been waiting so long for burst through the doors, long and weary looks on their faces. Daggett and his ever-so loyal friend Stryver stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes glued upon his hulking figure at the end of the table.

"Yes?" his voice rose above the silence in the room. Bane saw Fiona's eyes pull away from her book and flick to the men. In the corner of the room, he heard Yuppie, one of his most trusted men, clear his throat.

Daggett's nose flared, his tongue lashing out to wet his lips. Gripping two small yellow envelopes, the man slapped them on the table.

"We have Wayne's prints. You hit the stock exchange tomorrow."

Bane stood, pleased.

"We'll be ready."