Whoa. This is the longest chapter I have EVER written! Please review this! I'm quite proud of it and I worked really hard on it, so I'd really appreciate more feedback than usual (though special thanks to all those who review on a chapter basis!). Anyways, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Anastasia

I woke up in a cold and empty bed.

"I will be busy for most of tomorrow. We will resume training the day after." Bane had told me before he crawled into bed and went to sleep. Every time he laid down on the mattress, the dip he created made my body naturally gravitate towards him. I fought that hard that night, my mind consumed with thoughts of his plan for Gotham and my survival. Lately, my thoughts often drifted back to that one question. How was I going to get out of here? Bane hadn't started to include me in his plans yet, and I was in the complete dark as to what was going on. I needed to start thinking of a way to encrust myself in the circle of people who knew what was going on. Once I knew his grand plan, I could start thinking of a way to get out. I didn't know where I was going to go quite yet, but away seemed like a good enough idea at the moment.

Today, I am 25 years old. Happy birthday to me. But hey, at least I'm not spending it in Arkham. I know it's hard to believe it, but the nurses at Arkham are not the kind to give me a birthday cupcake and watch me blow out the candle. I don't get particularly excited for birthdays normally, mostly because they never make you feel any different, but also because I don't have much to celebrate. Although considering where I'm living, my survival is a pretty impressive feat, so maybe I should consider being grateful for that.

Finally, I sit up. My hands automatically fly to my head where of course, I find the rat's nest I've been trying to pass as hair for the past couple of weeks. The pitch black strands fall almost to my waist now, which is longer than I've had it in a long time. The bangs have been grown out for a while now, falling just below my jaw. It doesn't look bad, but it's not as neat as I'd like it to be. I'd get it cut, but nowadays that seems a bit risky, and I don't exactly trust myself to do it with scissors. With a defeated sigh, I quickly braid my hair over my right shoulder and head for my duffel bag, where I pull out my most comfortable pair of sweatpants. Once I slip them on and readjust the tank top I slept in, I grab my pocket sized mirror out of the bag also. Mirrors with Bane aren't really a priority, so there isn't one in his bathroom and having to use a pocket sized one constantly is beginning to get on my nerves. The bags under my eyes aren't as prominent today, which is good, but my skin color is dulling probably from a lack of sunlight.

My next move? Food. I slip on socks quickly and head for the hallway, which is almost empty, save for a few men walking around. I assume the majority are with Bane. I head to the sad excuse for a kitchen. I wouldn't really call it a kitchen, more like a space where someone threw in the cheapest foods they could find at Wal-Mart and let a pack of wild dogs at it. It usually gets cleaned at the end of the day, thank God, but since it's late morning and the men have already had breakfast, the place is already a mess. There are crumbs of bread and chips all over the island and half the cabinets have been left open. Part of me is surprised that Bane lets this place get so repulsive, but the other half of me reasons that he probably doesn't frequent the food room much, what with the mask and all. I wonder how he does eat…

That's when I notice what's in the middle of the island, almost hidden behind a crushed water bottle. I frown and get closer, almost not believing my eyes. It's a cupcake. With a motherfucking candle on it.
"Ha!" I let out a loud laugh at the irony of the birthday cupcake as I pick it up and inspect it closer. It's a chocolate cupcake, obviously store bought, but flawlessly iced. I don't have to wonder who left it out for me. It's Barsad. He must've heard it was my birthday when I mentioned it to Bane. Barsad is a sweet guy, I can tell. He has eyes so freaking clear blue you'd think you could see right through them into his head, and so gentle it almost feels like he's holding my face when he looks at me. Not intimately of course, I can't imagine how Bane would feel about that. Not intimately, but out of respect. He's surprised I've stayed alive this long, and to be honest so am I, and because of that he treats me in a way not many people do nowadays. Like a human being. I value his presence here.

When my teeth dig into the cupcake, I can't help but let out a deep moan of pleasure. The sugar brings my mouth to life and I salivate more than a dog before a meal. Cupcake in hand, I head back to the room, wondering what I'm supposed to do with myself until tonight.

Once I plop back down onto the bed, the cupcake wrapper discarded, I stare blankly at the ceiling. Then suddenly, I have an idea. I shoot back upright and my eyes fall on Bane's desk. A small smile creeps up on my face as my eyes dart to the door to make sure it's closed, and then back to the desk. In a fraction of a second, I'm pulling at one of the 6 drawers of the wooden furniture. All locked. My lips pout subconsciously, but I quickly cheer up and run to my bag. It takes a bit of riffling through before I find my target. Two bobby pins. I straighten them out and bring them over to the desk before sitting cross-legged and getting to work.

I'm a little rusty at this, I'll admit. But, in the end, I get the top left drawer open. I open it excitedly, and behold! It's empty. An irritated 'urg' escapes my lips, but I haven't given up quite yet. I move on to the second drawer, managing to unlock it quicker than the first. Again, nothing.

It isn't until the 4th drawer that my excitement peaks at the sight of stack of papers. At the top is a newspaper. I gently pull it out, intent on returning everything to its original position once I'm done. At first, it seems like a normal newspaper, and I start to think that maybe Bane just enjoys the Sudoku on the back. But as I flip through the pages I start to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sure enough, as I flip to the next page, my eyes fall on a picture that is much too familiar.

It's my mug shot from when I was arrested for killing those 13 men, and it is one shitty picture. I look like a drug addict who just got dragged through a ditch. Getting shot in the ass by a tranquilizer can do that to a girl. The picture is captioned with 'Bar Killer Served On A Silver Platter!" in big, bold, black letters. I don't bother to read through the article, since I've already read it about a million times and I know it practically by heart.

I fold the newspaper back up and set it on the floor next to me. Next in the stack is a group of pictures of Arkham. I pull them out and quickly look through them. There's picture of the nurses that often visited me, my main doctor, and several of the layout of the building I was in. I figure these were taken to figure out a way to broke me out. I assume they came in handy, since they just ended up blowing up the front entrance anyways.

I blindly grabbed at the next item in the stack and pulled out a clipboard with a thick stack of papers clipped into it. At first, my curiosity simply peaked once more. This actually looked interesting. But at soon as I read the words on the front paper, my blood ran cold.

Anastasia Rose Delcourt

Age of admittance: 21

Height: 5'9''

Weight: 130 lbs

Hair: Black

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Verdict upon entry: Guilty.

Charges: Manslaughter.

This was my medical chart from Arkham. The one that went missing months before Bane broke me out. I still remember the day the doctor came in to tell me it had been 'misplaced'. I'd been livid.

"I thought my meetings were only in the afternoons." I managed to say through a heavy yawn. It was early in the morning. The hall guard had woken me up to tell me the doctor was pulling me out of my cage for a meeting. Not his exact words, but they might as well have been.

"They are, but this isn't that type of meeting." Dr. Rivers replied. He was an unattractive man in his late 40's. But overall, he wasn't bad. Not the head of Arkham, but one of the smaller doctors that worked under him which I was glad for. I'd heard the head guy was a total dick. That's when I noticed the blank clipboard he was holding. He continued. "It seems your chart has been…momentarily misplaced."

"Momentarily misplaced?" I asked teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.

"Yes. I'm here to go over with you your treatments since you got here. Not the minor details, just the major events. Sort of a temporary chart, if you will, until we find yours."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You woke me up before dawn because you assholes can't do your job right?" Fortunately for Dr. Rivers, he wasn't the type of man to be intimidated by my attitude.

"Yes." He simply replied as he wrote my name in big at the top of the first page. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. This was going to be a long morning.

Three hours later, we had a 'temporary' chart that was about 5 pages long. After listing countless drugs, and not so therapeutic treatments that had been borderline torture, we'd listed all the major events, as Dr. Rivers had called them. I couldn't believe Bane had been the one to steal my chart. I flipped through it quickly, my eyes falling on certain words. Electroshock therapy was the main one that made me cringe.

"Miss Delcourt! I'm Dr. Traneth and we're going to be trying something new today!" The man that stood at my door was one I'd never seen before. Where was Dr. Rivers? As if the man read my mind, he continued to explain. "Dr. Rivers is out on personal business for the next month, so I'm in charge until he returns. Now I see here he doesn't have you on too many meds…" He drifted off as his eyes roamed my chart. Dr. Rivers was a good doctor, he knew I didn't need to be on a million and one drugs that would turn me into a zombie. So no, he didn't, only light sedatives and anti-depressants. Which didn't do shit for me anyways. But at that moment, I almost wished I had been on a shit ton of drugs, because maybe if I had, Dr. Traneth wouldn't have uttered his next sentence.

"We're going to see if some electroshock therapy will do you any good." My eyes went wide and my fist instinctively clenched.

"The hell we are." My voice was deadly calm, but behind that mask was pure panic. Electroshock? Fuck no.

But of course, after a bloody fight and some seriously buff male nurses, my ass landed in the creepiest room imaginable, strapped to a table with some kind of rubbery piece shoved in my mouth. Having electricity thrown around in your head isn't pleasant. I feel the need to reiterate that. It is not fucking pleasant.

And Bane knew. He fucking knew that this was going on. Dr. Rivers had been out for much longer than a month, and Dr. Fucking Traneth made me his new favorite plaything. God that man had issues. Thankfully, none of his little experiments did any damage. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I slept for days on end. Some days I couldn't get myself to open my eyes. And some I almost felt brain dead, staring at the white wall for hours on end. But eventually, I got over it.

And Bane fucking knew! My hands crumpled the chart violently and I threw it across the room as hard as I could. How fucking could he read all about what kind of torture I was going through and wait so long to get me out!

My breathing became heavy as I got up and paced around the small cold room. I was fucking livid. If Bane had been here right now, I might have killed him. Or at least tried to. No, I would have killed him. The rage pulsing through my veins ensured that at the moment.

I couldn't stay in this fucking bedroom any longer, so I stormed out and headed where I knew I could blow off some steam.

Bane had showed me this room a couple of days ago after training, and had told me it was open to my use. Until now, I'd had no desire to punch a bag of sand. But boy did I have to desire to now. I didn't bother wrapping my fists with anything before I started throwing punches and kicks at the bag. It was surrounded by many others, all hanging from the ceiling. I'm guessing this is where a lot of his men spent their time staying in shape. This is where I was going to spend some time today.

Every hit I delivered to the sand was fueled by anger. Anger at Bane for not getting me out of there sooner. Anger at the doctors at Arkham for making me go through their sick 'therapeutic' treatments. Anger at myself for getting caught. Angry at Marcus Hopkins. I was going to kill the bastard if that was the last thing I did.

I wasn't sure how long I was in there, but by the time I dropped to my knees from exhaustion, my first were a raw, bloody mess. I grabbed the sides of the bag to keep it still and rested my sweaty forehead against the cool fabric. My arms felt like they would drop off at any second and the top of my foot stung from the kicking.

"Anastasia." My head snapped to the main double doors. I half expected to see Bane, but instead it was Barsad. "You alright?" He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, taking in my defeated form.

"Just peachy." I replied as I got to my feet, with much resistance from my muscles might I add.

"Go take a shower. Then come find me so I can take care of your hands." He commanded gently. I didn't argue, it's not like I could go around with them bleeding everywhere. Not tonight anyways. With that, he walked away, turning left into the hall while I went right.

Once in the shower, I wasn't sure I could leave its warmth. Thought the shower itself was absolute shit, the water was hot enough something. And today, it was definitely hot enough. I left the scalding water run over my breasts and my back, fighting the goose bumps that threatened to appear all over my body. As my fingers glided over my stomach, the tips just barely grazed the almost gone scab that had once been the wound on my ribs. I looked down to see that Bane had been right. It had healed perfectly. Though it would leave a rather brutal scar. But hey, what's one more when you've already got so many?

I rubbed the shampoo into my hair furiously, trying to wash the sweat out, and when I felt I was successful enough, I brushed conditioner through the strands. And then I stood there, the water hitting my face and chest. I wasn't sure how long it was until I snapped out of my little trance, but when I did, my skin was scarlet red. Finally, I shut the water off and grabbed the small towel which I used to quickly dry myself and wrap my hair with. Next, I slipped on my most comfortable jeans and tee-shirt, towel dried my hair a bit, and went looking for Barsad.

Ten minutes later, I found myself sitting on a stool, watching Barsad as prepared to disinfect my fists. It wasn't too bad, just severely rubbed raw. I wouldn't need to bandage it, Barsad told me.

"Ouch!" I yelled unexpectedly.

"Really? You have a fist fight with a bag of sand for 3 and a half hours and you're sensitive to the pair from rubbing alcohol?" He sounded amused.

"It's a different kind of pain…" I defended quietly. "Is Bane back?" I asked him. I wasn't as angry with Bane as much now, but I was still going to demand some fucking answers. Barsad smirked at my question.

"Not yet. He had a few things to take care of." His eyes met mine. God they were blue. Like Bane's, but not as hypnotizing.

"Good. Do you know what time it is?" I sucked in air through my teeth as the cotton ball dabbed as a new spot.

"Around 8:30."

"I'm going to be leaving soon."

"That's fine. I'll let Bane know." An awkward silence fell over us as he kept handling my hands. That is, until he asked me the question that had been dancing in his eyes since he got back. "So what provoked this sudden urge to punch things?" Again, that tone of amusement. But the real question was, should I tell him what I found? I knew he already knew about it. He was Bane's right hand man after all. But then again, I'd crumpled up and thrown the file around so someone would find out eventually.

"Found my chart." My eyes darted to his accusingly, but he showed no guilt as he chuckled slightly.

"About time. Bane thought you'd find it way earlier." My jaw dropped. Of course Bane had meant for me to find it. Of course! God, I was sick of his games. "You're angry because he stole your chart?"

"What? No," I frowned, "I'm pissed because you guys knew about what they were doing to me in there for months before you broke me out.

"He wanted to know if you were strong enough." Barsad explained. Now that was unexpected.

"Strong enough?"

"To handle what they put you through. He wouldn't go through the trouble of breaking you out if he wasn't sure your psyche could handle whatever he put you through."

"I guess that makes sense…You guys are still dicks though. Electric currents through your head aren't all that much fun." That earned enough laugh from him, and I couldn't help but smile with him.

"I imagine not." His eyes met mine once more, letting go of my hands. "All done."

"Thanks." I gave him a half smile before hopping off the stool and heading for the door.

"Have fun tonight." I heard him call as I almost reached the door. "Oh and Anastasia?" This time, I stopped and turned.

"Yea?"

"Happy birthday." He said with a mischievous smirk and a wink. I frowned at the wink and answered skeptically.

"Thanks?" It sounded like more of a question coming out, but I quickly hurried back to the room. Barsad's attitude had kind of thrown my off, and on top of that it was time to get ready.

I pulled out my little cosmetic bag and got started. I didn't have much, just a small palette of eye shadow, a tube of mascara and some eyeliner. No concealer or foundation or blush or any of that nonsense. Using my pocket sized mirror to apply full eye makeup wasn't an easy task, but sure enough, a good 15 minutes later, I'd done a fairly good job of it. A contrast of black and grey eye shadow, thick eyeliner, and mascara that made my eyelashes look twice as long as they actually were. Not too shabby. Thankfully, my hair had dried into a light wave, looking good enough to not have to fuck with it tonight. Finally, I pulled the little black dress from my bag and pulled it on.

It was tight. My breasts were pushed up to my ears it seemed like, and there would be no bending down, that was for sure. If I dropped something this evening, I would consider it lost forever. Now all I needed was my small purse and my flats. I was pretty sure they were both at the bottom of my bag, so I plunged my hand in there blindly and searched around.

Instead of finding my bag and my flats, I found a very old pair of heels I thought I had lost forever again. Five inch close toed heels. I pondered for a second…Yup, these would do just fine. I quickly slipped them on and shoved my ID and money in my cleavage, screw a bag. My guess is that it was about 9:00-9:30 right about now. Perfect.

Only one problem. How was I going to get there? I sure as hell wasn't walking. Not if I didn't want to end up raped and killed in a ditch somewhere tomorrow. Maybe
Barsad would let me borrow a car. I peaked my head out into the hallway and sure enough, there he was, standing at the end of the hallway.

"Barsad!" I yelled and I half ran (hobbled) over to him.

"Anastasia!" He joked, amused by my attempt at running in these shoes.

"I need to borrow a car." I put on my sweetest smile and puppy dog eyes, but alas, he only scoffed at me.

"Come on! It's my birthday!" I saw him ponder the thought for a second or two.

"Tell you what, I'll drive you."

"Do you have to?" I made a face, half offended at my new babysitter.

"I'm not giving you a car for the night. So unless you want to have gotten all prettied up for nothing, yes."

"Fiiiiiine. Let's go!" I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down the hallway.

Twenty minutes later, he was dropping me off in front of The Shadow, one of the nicer nightclubs in the crappier part of town. There was no line, but you could tell from the open door that the inside was almost packed.

"Thank you Dad!" I quickly kissed Barsad on the cheek and jumped out of the truck. I didn't look back when he drove off, only flashed the bouncer my ID and walked in.

Oh yes, this would do just fine. There were strobe lights and black lights everywhere, and the bass was so strong it vibrated my body to the very core. In the middle was the DJ, surrounded by a huge mass of dancing. I would be joining them shortly. First, I had to get drunk.

With the amount of cleavage I was showing, I didn't need long to grab the bartender's attention, despite the long line of guys present there. I ordered three shorts of Jack and handed him a twenty, telling him to keep the change. Finally, the three shots that had obviously been messily poured slid in front of my. I rubbed my hands together like I was about to dig into a tasty meal and did each one back to back. I tried my hardest to not make a face as the amber liquid crawled down my throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. A shiver ran down my spine, and as soon as it passed, I was ready to dance. Considering how little I'd had to eat today, I'd be drunk within 15 minutes.

I'd always loved to dance. Nothing fancy, just nightclub dancing. I was good at it. My hips easily moved and my back arched in that way that looked sexy as hell. And I loved it. I loved feeling the music go through my, forcing my curves to move with its beat. I loved being lost in a crowed of bodies that felt the same as what mine was feeling. I loved dancing with men and women I didn't know. I had a psychologist tell me that I was so obsessed with this feeling because it was the one place I could easily fit in and be accepted, no questions asked. At the time, I'd been a smartass and had told her it was just being I liked to grind my ass against random guys' dicks, but I actually thought she had a good point. It didn't matter why though. All that mattered was the absolute contentment I felt on the dance floor.

A man grabbed my hips suddenly and ground himself into me. Had his been anywhere else, he would have been knocked out in 2 seconds flat, but at the moment I didn't give a damn. I leaned back in him, giving him a nice view of my cleavage in the process, which only made him hold onto me even harder. I couldn't see his face, and I really didn't care to. He was a good dancer, that's really all that mattered. Only a few minutes later did he turn me around so we were dancing face to face. He wasn't bad looking, which was a plus. Our bodies were dangerously close, leaving hardly any space between them.

Around three hours and two shots later, I was thoroughly tipsy, dancing with another man on the dance floor. This night had been perfect. Not a single worry penetrated my mine. My body was so focused on the music and the alcohol and the dancing that I was in my own world. Which is why my brain barely registered what happened in the next 3 minutes.

The first thing I heard was gunshots. Not normal ones. Automatic ones. People darted like fish in a barrel, scrambling in all fucking directions around me. Me, I didn't move. Maybe because I was too drunk to understand, or because I didn't want to believe this night was over already. But before I knew it, the club was empty except for men I didn't recognize standing by the entrances, and by the short stairs that led to the VIP section. I couldn't see who was sitting on the VIP section, but I'm guessing I was in trouble. I didn't dare say a word, I just stood there like as idiot in my too short dress and too high heels.

Then, I heard someone get up from the leather couches. I could see his outline now. This guy was a fucking tank. I was tempted to take a step back, maybe try to find a way to escape, but I didn't.

"Don't kill me, it's my birthday." As soon as the phrase left my mouth, I wanted to kick myself. God, I really was drunk.

One step down the stairs. Really heavy footsteps…Why did those sound so familiar.

It wasn't until step two that it all clicked.

"Bane?!" I yelled accusatorily. All his did was laugh that damn robotic sounding laugh while he descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom, I finally saw all of him in the light. He wore a black wife beater and pants, his hands clasped behind his back as he advanced towards me.

"What? You don't like my birthday surprise?" He was mocking me, I could tell. "I'll admit I didn't expect to find you like this." He gestured to my heels and dress. "Especially not grinding on any man within a 10 foot radius of you."

"You know, if you wanted a dance, all you had to do was ask." I replied with a devilish smirk. By now, he was standing right in front of me, blue eyes burning holed into my head. From what I could tell, he was angry. Next thing I knew, his hand was on my neck, pushing me backwards until I hit the low stage of the DJ's booth, which had been thoroughly abandoned. His grasp on my neck was loose though, and only a few seconds later, it slid to the side to push my black hair over my shoulder. His eyes ravaged my neck, collarbones, shoulders and finally my cleavage.

"I," He started, his eyes snapping back to me with so much lust I couldn't repress the sparks that flew between my legs. "Want to be the only man that gets to enjoy your body that way." Had I been sober, I may have been somewhat offended. I could do whatever I damn pleased with my body. But no, I wasn't sober, so instead of offence, his possessiveness of me only turned me on more. I let out a shaky breath when he bent his head to speak in my ear. I closed my eyes, enjoying his body being so close to mine.

"You're mine." And with that, he spun me around and bent me over the stage.

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Review!

Thanks :]