AN: Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, worked really hard on it :P I've been really busy, my styling business has really picked up, as with my modeling, and acting and school :P I love being busy :D :D I still have like 3 chapters written long hand, and it's just transferring them that's taking the time because I add and tweak so much to add to the story.

Thanks so much for the positive reviews :D

-Kes.

A hand slapped her cheek none too gently, and Kestrel was forced into the waking world. She took a look around as her eyes refocused. Same damned room, with the damp concrete wall, and the sour smell she loathed. She went to wipe her face, when she found that her hands were bound together to the cot by a leather belt. A swell of panic blossomed in her chest, she didn't do well, confined like this, and it reminded her of times she would rather forget.

"C'mon sweet heart, up an' at 'em. You got a phone call." An unfamiliar face came into view, along with her cell phone and the barrel of a gun. One was pressed to her temple while the other was roughly shoved by her ear. A crystal clear incentive to not give anything away about her current predicament

"H-hello?" Her voice was low and cracked from the lack of water.

"Hey, Kes, it's me, John?" John… John? John! Her breath caught, the name was like a fragment of some other forgotten lifetime.

"John… hey…" She managed to croak out, tears slipping down her face. There was so much she wanted to tell him of her dire situation, but she couldn't. She probably wouldn't even get the words out before the man blew her brain to pieces.

"Kes, you okay? You don't sound well." It was sweet; he was concerned for her wellbeing.

"Um, yeah… I think I caught something, like a 48 hour bug… I feel absolutely horrid." She managed to choke out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. She cleared her throat, as the man shoved her head a little with the barrel to drive his point across.

"Do you want me to come over? You can give me your address and I-"

"No!" She cut him off abruptly, but then smoothed her tone, not wanting him to ask any questions. Instead she looked up at the man and replied, "I hate it when people see me sick… It only makes me feel more miserable than I already am."

"Alright then…" He sounded sad.

"Hey John? Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything." He really was too sweet.

"Can you go to Excell and tell Robin I won't be there for a couple days, my voice is starting to go and I don't feel up to dealing with her at the moment…" It was true; her voice was growing hoarse and had a whistling tone about it.

"Of course… call me if you need anything. And Kestrel?"

"Yeah?"

"I look forward to our date."

"Yeah…. Me too… Bye." She shut her eyes, willing herself not to cry, especially in front of this man who held her captive. She had bought herself a little bit of time, John seemed like the type to call in a couple days, and if she didn't answer then he'd probably use his cop skills to investigate. As long as she had a tie in the outside world, she was relatively safe.

"Cheer up sweetheart; I'm sure Lover Boy will still want you once this is all over… Assuming you'll survive of course." The man chuckled as he removed the threat to her head. Kestrel was so pissed, she saw red. She lunged at him forgetting her hands were tied, the metal frame of the cot protested loudly but held firm. The man stumbled a bit in shock at her fury, but soon erupted in laughter.

Kestrel lunged again, this time with her teeth snapping dangerously close to his nose.

"Go on! You're a feisty bit of fire aren't you, sweetheart? Go on! I dare you!" He leaned in, just out of reach and tapped the side of his chin where he expected her to punch him. Only she didn't. Her hands might've been tied, but her feet were not. Uncoiling her legs, she kicked him right in the groin. The man hollered, his face turning an unpleasant sort of purple color, but Kes wasn't concerned with his face but his hand that held his gun and was rising toward her face. Twisting and contorting herself she managed to avoid getting hit in the face but the bullet lodged in her shoulder, right below the collarbone. Her topaz eyes widened as she stared dumbly at the wound. The man looked equally in shock as he dropped the gun and looked at his hands in terror. The door burst open and the man who had broken into her home strode in and swiftly assessed the situation.

"Carter, outside. Now." His eyes and his voice brooked no disobedience. The man's forehead paled, although his cheeks kept that ruddy color of pain and embarrassment.

"But-" The man knew that going outside meant death.

"Now." His voice was softer, deadlier, and even Kestrel felt a shiver travel up her spine. If the man hadn't shot her, she might've felt remorse for his impending punishment. But as it were…

The man straightened up, nodded to his superior and left, closing the door behind him.

"Oh…" There was a pressure in her shoulder that was growing into something akin to pain but much worse. Dark red blood oozed from a wound that was completely round in shape. Bile rose up in her mouth just from looking at it. She looked at her captor helplessly. Her breathing quickened until she was panting, and her eyes threatened to roll into the back of her head.

Her face turned ashen and sweat started popping up about her brow.

"You did ask for it you know." The man smirked at her, not moving to help her, just observing.

"How did you know I did anything?" Her voice was quiet as she forced herself to stay in control and not scream out her agony. Her chest and arms were now slick with sweat, and everything was beginning to look a bit dark around the edges of her vision.

"Judging by the look of his face, and the way he limped out of here. I say you did a lot. That was a very dirty trick." Nonetheless, the man looked amused, and was that a look of approval on his face? Or was she beginning to hallucinate?

The door opened before she could reply, and the mammoth man in the mask stepped through the door.

"Barsad, leave us." Ah, Barsad. So that was his name. The part of Kestrel's mind that wasn't overwhelmed by pain filed that information for later use. The man named Barsad nodded and left the room without another word.

"My dear, I have kill people for less."

"Then why don't you just do it?" She replied tiredly, in too much pain to give a damn,

The giant man gave a scoff and sauntered to where she slumped bleeding in the cot. Shooting out his arm, her gripped her injured should in one massive paw and pressed inwards. Another test. She winced slightly, but tried to maintain eye contact, to not show any weakness, but as the pressure grew she dropped the act and focused on just not passing out. The man was relentless; he kept tightening his grip, digging his fingers into her soft skin, without regard to his victim's rasping wails and pleas to stop. Only when he felt her collarbone begin to splinter did her offer a reprieve.

"Remember this moment, Kestrel, Lewis. Remember this moment before you ever think about crossing me again."

The small woman nodded dumbly, processing the words and marking them to memory. It'd be a lesson she'd not soon forget.

Bane left to get supplies to mend his newly acquired pet, when he returned she was still slumped against the wall blood soaking the side of her shirt and forming rivulets down her arm. She didn't even twitch at the sound of the door squeaking on its hinges. For a minute there he thought she was dead, but as soon as he was in front of her, she raised her sallow face to him and met his gaze with a look of such hatred that if he had been a lesser man, he would've been afraid. 'But I am not' he replied in his head as he pulled up a chair and sat in it. The metal chair groaned beneath his weight but held firm.

"You come to finish me off?" She sounded hopeful. How curious for a human, to have such a will to die.

"If only you were so lucky Ms. Lewis. On the contrary I'm here to see to your wounds." She snorted at this but he carried on. "If you are to convince the police that there is nothing to find, it is best if you are alive to tell them yourself."

Kestrel scoffed, rolled her eyes at him, and picked out a spot on the wall behind him. His meaty hand immediately wrapped itself around her chin and forced her to look at him.

"You defiance might have held some amusement before, but I will have respect."

She struggled in vain to get out of his grasp but he was so much stronger.

"You have a bullet in your shoulder. I can either give you an anesthetic, or if you continue to be difficult I will not allow you that luxury. Either way the bullet is coming out. Your choice. Understood?" He shook her head for emphasis. The golden eyed girl forced a petulant 'yes' out from pursed lips. The image would also be comical if not for her dire situation.

"Very well, we have an agreement."

He untied her, and stripped her of her bloody jacket, which now bore a bullet hole, and then proceeded to render her Pink Floyd t-shirt in two. Kestrel began to protest but silenced herself when met with a warning glance from the large man. He then took the shirt and used it as a tourniquet around her arm. As he waited for a vein to rise, he took out a glass bottle along with a needle, filling the needle, he then pressed down on the plunger slightly to release the air bubbles. Without asking her permission he firmly stabbed the needle into her vein and pushed down. Removing the ruined cloth, he leaned back in the chair and waited.

Minutes later, euphoria sizzled up Kestrel's spine and prickled along her skin like static electricity.

"What did you give me?" She slurred up at him. Her normal caramel eyes took on a bright shade, almost manic in its brilliance.

"Morphine." He clipped back.

"Feels good."

With that final sentiment he went to work on her shoulder.

It was disconcerting to feel a pair of tweezers rummaging in her shoulder without any pain. It was disconcerting watching a pair of tweezers running through one's shoulder and not feeling pain. She saw the blood continue to ooze down her breast only to disappear beneath the black bra she wore. The trail reappeared a few moments later, only to seep into the denim of her jeans. 'Thank goodness they're black' a vainer part of Kestrel's mind sighed in relief. Focus. The rummaging continued, and Kestrel looked over where the man was working on her injured shoulder.

"Stop moving." He gruffed without stopping his movements. Kestrel leaned away, trying to extend her head far enough so that she could see what he was doing. As it seemed, the problem was that the tweezers couldn't get a firm grip on the bullet.

"I will not repeat myself, kestrel Lewis."

The small woman settled back down, leaning her head back, but still studied the man who was attempting to remove the bullet. Now that she was closer, she got the have the full effect on what the mask did to his voice. She could hear the soft undertone that his breathing, magnified by the mask. Perhaps he had some sort of microphone hidden in there, it would make sense, since he had to wear such that thick chunk of metal that was his mask. Kestrel smiled at the thought of it going wrong or not working anymore, especially in like some sort of criminal heist or something, that would be amusing to see. Kestrel's thoughts returned to his mask. She could now see why people were afraid of him and his mask. The vials were in such a way that they resembled teeth gaping in an open mouthed roar, or a beast, jaws agape ready to tear out the throat of his prey. Kestrel was prey. A cold sweat descended upon her as she realized what a precarious situation she was in. This was a life or death situation, and there was no do overs, once she was dead, that was it. She needed to make sure she was useful to him, not just a liability, so she talked.

"I've seen you before…" She muttered slowly to the top of his head, as he was bent close still trying to get the meddlesome object out of her shoulder. He finally found purchase on the bullet and proceeded to pull it out. She prayed that he'd believe that what she said was the ramblings of a drugged girl, and not the calculated decision of a desperate woman. All she had to do was give him enough information to pique his interest and not enough to be invaluable.

"Well, I haven't seen you, I saw your mask in Santa Prisca," Lie. "But it was sleeker, like a new car model." Truth.

The man looked at her for a brief moment and then returned to his task. He picked up some rubbing alcohol and applied it generously to the gauze and then pushing it against her wound. He applied pressure while gazing at her with poison green eyes. A puff of breath left her as he pushed a bit of air of her lungs, but she didn't utter any protests. Instead she stared into those eyes; they were like the sea in hurricane season down in Santa Prisca. When the lighting would hit the water and light it up a bright sickly green, like a disease. The waves would roil in anger as the wind snatched up house and broke them upon the beach. Any fishing boat caught on the high seas would find them tossed around before being pummeled into splinters on the hard fist of water. She could understand why people believed in Poseidon, for the water was a magnificent, yet dangerous, entity with depths unknown and unexplored. It was ancient and ever present in history, an unstoppable force in time. He looked away from her to get ready to stitch the hole in her shoulder. For such large hands he was surprisingly good at small needlework.

"Who are you?" The words were out before she could hold them behind dry lips.

"I am called Bane." He didn't falter from his handiwork.

"Bane." One definition was that it was someone or a thing that ruins or spoils. The more sinister definition was such a thing that destroys, and causes death. A shiver found its way up her back and lodged itself in her throat, making her swallow reflexively.

"And why are you here, Bane?"

Bane gently took her small hand, the one that punched his mask, and scrutinized its damage. The skin between her knuckles were split wide open, a macabre, fleshy grin that revealed rosy pink flesh beneath. Pouring the rubbing alcohol, he proceeded to sterilize her hand.

In the vestiges of her mind, she knew she should've felt the pain, but all she felt was the throbbing, euphoric numbness that was the drug.

Bane looked at her with his ever green eyes,

"I am here to destroy Gotham."