Hello darlings!

Happy very belated New Year to you all, hopefully 2015 has been treating you well so far. I'm currently back at university right now and I start my classes in less than day. So in light of that, I decided to at least give you something to read before I leap back into a time of no leisure reading whatsoever. This chapter has the POV of someone we have not heard from in a few chapters so…

Without further ado…

Oh! I own nothing! (Disclaimers are the worst interrupters.)

Enjoy!

Chapter 29:

There had never been a silence nor a sight so grim yet so pleasing to Bane. Like a tyrant standing upon a usurped throne, he stood at the feet of the wall-to-wall glass windows of the master office in the late John Dagget's penthouse, basking in the sight of the desolate and subdued city of Gotham.

This city was damned from the start. He mused to himself.

"Sir, U.S. military forces are in compliance with your orders. They have withdrawn their air fighters and their ground forces remain outside of the city."

Deep in his chest, there was rumble of contentment and the corners of his eyes crinkled in such a way that it seemed that he was smirking underneath his mask.

"And the police force?"

"All units were called to the tunnels just before game. Just as you said they would." Barsad confirmed, then informed him, "But apparently the Deputy Commissioner got away before the explosives went off. Should we go after him?"

Bane turned around, firmly shaking his head at his best and right-hand man, Barsad, "No. Without the rest of the force, he will not be able to cause too much of a disruption. He is one man and a coward at that."

"A coward?"

Bane gave him a sidelong glance, "What man does not join his men in the fray, but stands back as his men do the dirty work? Let the man crawl back into his little hole." He waved his hand dismissively, "He is of no importance to us."

Then, folding his thick hands behind his back, Bane turned his attentions toward the present status of their mission. There were many tasks to be done and many of them were in the hands of other mercenaries that Bane could only be, to some extent, sure that they were competent. He was a precise man with high expectations and loose ends could not be tolerated.

"In spite of the few who have unsuccessfully tried to leave the city, the streets are clearing out quickly," Barsad began, "The stock exchange and onwards through corporate central is nearly a ghost town."

"Hm," Bane made a hum of amusement in the back of his throat, "If the people of Gotham would ever listen to something, it would be to retreat and cower." After their appearance at the stadium and their operations were moved above ground, the common population of the city rushed into obscurity, as if they could hide from the wrath...from the fire. It was not for the sake of fairness that Bane gave the people of Gotham the night to be with their families. They may hide away as much as they would like, the fire rises…and it consumes all.

"How are internal and external communications? Is the city isolated yet?"

"Almost. They are working to cut off all cell towers and phone lines now. Soon, any means of communications will have to strictly go through us."

Bane was pleased to hear this. It was imperative to their plans that the only stream of information to reach the citizens' ears came under Bane's control. Any outside interference would do nothing but stir up false hope and rebellion, and, as he promised, the triggerman would detonate the bomb.

Bane went on, "What of the Wayne Enterprises' executive board?"

"They are being kept in the abandoned stock exchange building as per your orders."

"Good. After tomorrow, I am sure they will find good company with Gotham's disgusting excuse for an elite class. Better that they suffer under yet another symbol corruption—little do they know that it will become their very judgment place." Bane went on, "Now, have the news stations been informed about our location tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," Barsad affirmed, "Blackgate will be the center of attention by morning."

"Perfect." Bane nodded his approval, "It is due time that Gotham learns the truth about its so-called honorable justice system." He remarked, his mind returning to the thick lump of folded papers in the right inner pocket of his coat. They had been sitting there for some time now, waiting for the right moment to come to light.

Soon. He thought. Soon.

"Now," He thought of what else needed to have been done by today, or rather who needed to have been declared deceased by today, "What about Mayor Garcia?"

"Confirmed dead."

"What of Miss Kyle? We haven't heard from her in quite some time."

"Recently admitted into Blackgate prison after she tried to hop on a plane out of Gotham."

"Suppose that that was her own fault, but it hardly matters. She'll be out on the streets soon enough."

"You aren't concerned?" Barsad asked curiously. "She doesn't exactly work for us."

Bane considered this, recalling the look in her eyes when she realized who she had handed over to Bane in the sewers. Still, he also remembered that she walked away even then. "Nor does work against us, Barsad. She works for herself, what keeps her alive. Though she is selfish, she is smart. When she gets out, she will know to not cross us."

Barsad nodded in understanding

Moving on down the list, Bane asked, "And the police commissioner?"

"Commissioner Gordon, sir?" repeated Barsad, puzzlement in his tone.

"Yes. Is he dead? Where is his body?" Bane abruptly stopped pacing and pressed Barsad with a pointed gaze, "Where is Lucy?"

"If she's back and he's been confirmed dead, then we have yet to hear word of it." Barsad answered, growing nervous at the deep-set fierce glint in Bane's eyes.

Then, before Barsad could say anything more and with a dramatic swirl of his coattail, Bane swept out of the room, not having to tell Barsad to follow him; his suddenly kindled demeanor was enough of an order. For a moment, it seemed like Bane's thundering footsteps down the marble floors of the penthouse were fueled by anger and aggravation at the fact that an important part of their plan hung in the balance. But, if one were to look closer, they would realize that Bane thundered on out of apprehension not for their precious plan, but for little Lucy Blake. His little bird. It was clear to anyone that he had become quite fond of the girl, far beyond what he had originally planned for her—though no one would go as far as to comment on it.

Barsad followed his good leader into the penthouse's large living room that they converted into their center of command. The intended opulence of the room was easily masked by the computers and televisions sat upon several tables and any open surface around the room, the multicolored labyrinth of wires on the floor and not to mention the harsh contrast of the rugged mercenaries tramping about the room, likely leaving skid marks and dirt patches on the pristine furniture.

When the mercenaries saw Bane enter, they all stopped what they were doing, sensing their leader's discontent as it cut through the air of the room, and stood at attention. Silence befell the room as they were all aware of Bane's scrutinizing gaze raking over the room, but no one knew why nor did anyone have the courage to ask. Finally, when it seemed that Bane did not find what he was searching for, he pulled his steely gaze from the room, allowing his men to relax, and instead, zeroed in on one mercenary, one of the programmer and hacker in their ranks, seated at a table of computers.

"You" He said lowly, striding over to the mercenary whose face was straight and schooled, but the sudden clench in his jaw betrayed his worry. No matter how well you obeyed Bane's orders, everyone was still expendable to him.

To Bane, everyone deserved to die—one way or another.

"Sir."

Hovering stiflingly close, Bane laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and ordered, "Pull up the footage from the security cameras at Gotham General."

"Yes, sir." There was a notable ease that settled on the mercenary's shoulders as he realized that he was not in any trouble.

Spinning round in his chair, he swiftly began typing away at the computer. Mere seconds later, the computer monitor was split into four smaller screens, showing off gray, grainy images of Gotham General's hallways.

"Is there a particular time frame you need, sir?"

Bane leaned forward, narrowing his eyes onto the screen, "Give me the ICU about five hours ago."

The keyboard clacked for a few more seconds before the security footage shuddered into recordings showing the requested time stamp. The recordings showed the relatively empty hallways of the Gotham General's ICU, save for the few nurses who passed by as they made their rounds earlier that day. Minutes later, the dull greyness was broken by a flicker of abrupt movement in the lower right quarter of the screen, where the door to the emergency stairwell burst open and three gun-wielding figures emerged. Two of them were clearly mercenaries, but the slight figure of the third was easily recognized as his little bird—though her delicate face was obscured by a hood.

"Ah," He said, a degree of ease returning to his tone, "There she is."

The three figures darted out of sight only to appear in and out of the view of the other security cameras lining the corridor as they quickly filed through. As they reached the end of the hallway, they halted their trek outside a hospital room, the two mercenaries pausing to glance back Lucy for her call.

Bane squinted his eyes at the fuzzy number beside the door. "Get me eyes inside that room."

The computer screen flickered out to show the inside of the room, likely from a camera sitting at one of the high corners of the room. In spite of the thick shadows bathing the room, which was no help to the already bad quality of the video, Bane was still able to make out Commissioner Gordon climbing out bed and trying to get into his civilian clothes as quickly as his feeble body allowed. Then, the room was suddenly flooded by light as the door to the room was thrown open and Bane could not quell the pride in his chest as he saw Lucy stride into the room, looking every bit of the girl he had fashioned.

Though the video gave no sound, it seemed Lucy and Gordon engaged into conversation, the latter likely trying to steer the former from her intended path. At one point, one of the mercenaries, who must have been chomping at the bit to shoot someone, said something that displeased his little bird as she was quick to whip around and silence him with some presumably barbed words and an equally sharpened gaze.

Exuding complete control, Lucy turned back to Gordon and unapologetically levelled her gun with Gordon's forehead.

It was then Bane peered seriously into the screen. He knew she had a good shot. He had seen it himself. This would not be too hard for her.

She would do as she was told.

He was sure—

In a flash, the gun jerked in her hand. Twice.

Bane's hand on the edge of the table curled into a tight fist as two bodies crumpled to the ground. And neither of them were the commissioner.

"Sir?!" Barsad's voice was aghast and riddled with the stewing disquiet that was rearing its ugly head in Bane's chest. "Sir, Lucy just—"

"Keep watching." Bane growled before he realized that he was not sure what he was supposed to keep watching for anyways.

He thought he knew exactly what she would do.

He thought he had broken her in well enough.

He was careful with everything, especially with her. He did not bring harm to her or bring her disdain. He protected her and gave her what he knew her spirit really wanted.

He knew her.

She was perfect for the League…at least she was supposed to be.

Now, he was not sure…and he hated that feeling.

"Bane," Barsad's voice drew him out of his heated musings, "Look."

Turning his eyes back to the screen, Bane felt that ugly feeling of disbelief and anger swell in his chest at the sight of his little bird wrapped tightly in the loving embrace of her brother. Though he could not hear none of what they said to one another, it would appear by the way the adoptive siblings clung to each other and the way she let herself succumb to the sentiment of seeing her brother that his little one had somehow broken free of his grasp. Somehow, the weight of everything he rested on her shoulders seemed to crumble in his eyes.

A menacing and angry growl ripped through Bane's chest as his huge hands clenched into heavy fists. Immediately, the room was set on edge as none of the mercenaries had ever seen their leader so put off and thrown off his balance. However, before any of them could allow doubt to cloud their judgment of their service to Bane, he reared back and straightened up into his full, poised and daunting height.

Barsad called to his leader once more, warily testing the waters because he was the only one in the room with enough gall and rank to approach their leader who seemed to be losing himself to volatile passions.

Bane's broad shoulders heaved with a deep composing sigh as he turned his back on the security footage—he'd seen enough. Meeting eyes with Barsad, Bane's demeanor seemed back in order—though, whether that was a good thing remained to be seen. Bane may have been frightening when he seemed at the mercy of his passions, but when he was calculating…he just tore apart a city that way.

"Barsad," Bane's voice carried quietly and smoothly to his right man's ears as if he were talking about the weather, "It seems our little bird has flown too far from the coup." He paused, thinking, "Find me where she nests."

Catching onto the flow of the analogy, Barsad dug around the pockets of his utility jacket before finally drawing out a small, rectangular device that looked like an outdated cellphone from the 80's what with his its hefty box shape, muted gray color, and long antenna that stuck out of one end as plain as the nose on one's face. However, as Barsad began to punch at the keypad, lighting up the screen a fluorescent green with thin black lines cutting through it like a map, it was very clear that this was no ordinary antiquated cellphone. Then, seconds later, a small pulsing dot appeared on the screen. It was situated in an otherwise obscure intersection of lines, had Barsad not started to give the tiny dot distinction by calling out a series of numbers—location coordinates.

Bane shot a silent, pointed look at the mercenary who had pulled up the security footage from the hospital, immediately prompting him to take the coordinates and pinpoint the specified location in Gotham.

"Sir," the mercenary said, after a few minutes of searching, "Those coordinates are for an apartment building just little outside of Gotham."

"See if you can find a Blake in the resident records," ordered Bane. Though sounding as if he had little doubt that there was indeed someone by that name on the list, Bane wanted the proof and the validation that, in some way, he still knew his little bird.

"There is an apartment rented out to a John R. Blake," confirmed the mercenary.

Bane hummed—a sound that did not tell anyone whether he was pleased or not. "Barsad, it appears she has taken herself back to her cage."

Barsad's hand floated at the ready over his walkie talkie, "I'll gather some men to retrieve her."

"No." Bane's negation brought Barsad to a shocked standstill, "Leave her be."

"I thought—"

"Let her think she got away. Let her think she has outsmarted us." Calmly, Bane paced back to the computer screen that still held the security footage paused on the grainy image of the embracing siblings. Bane felt as though he could reach through that screen and pluck her right back up and put her back where she belonged. But he could not. "For now, she believes that she is safe and out of reach in her old life."

"And then?"

"Soon, she will see what I see—that bars and walls cannot hold people like us. In time, the caged bird will sing and she will come back to us."


"Did you not think I'd return, Bruce?"

The deep, accented voice rang with familiarity, drawing Bruce out of his delirious state. Woozily, Bruce opened his eyes, finding himself still hanging limply from the rope the old caretaker had put him in to help him stand up. Bruce's feet dragged uselessly on the dirt ground as he tried to find some purchase to help him get back on his feet, but there was a stab of pain—residual pain from having a vertebra punched back into place earlier—that caused him to cry out and stagger painfully back into his wilting state.

"You were always a strong man, but never strong enough, Bruce."

The mocking condescension in the voice pushed all thoughts of Bruce's physical pain to the back of his mind, remembering that he did not wake up from his delirium alone. He forced his bleary eyes into focus as an unnerving figure stepped out from the shadows of his cell…and, to Bruce's incredulity, the shadows of what he had thought was the past.

Ra's Al Ghul, looking pristine, unmarred and almost ageless in his Ducard disguise, smirked down at him, "I told you I was immortal."

Bruce shook his head, remembering how he left the League of Shadows leader to die on that train as it crashed before he could complete his destruction of Gotham. He choked out, "I watched you die."

Ra's Al Ghul seemed amused at this, "There are many forms of immortality."

Bruce's brow knitted together as he considered his words, scattering through his brain for some means of understanding. Ra's Al Ghul was not really here in front of him—that just simply was not possible. If it were him, Bruce had enough sense to know that he would have some semblance of having been in the train crash. But there was something in his head that must be creating this projection for a reason.

The fire leaped up in front of his eyes not quite creating the warmth that he wanted but only what he needed out here on the snow. But that's how he had been living lately—want and need existed isolated from one another.

Ducard sat across from him, poking at the fire to keep it going, as he tenderly recalled, "Once I had a wife. My great love…" Bruce saw the sadness in his mentor's eyes, "She was taken from me…"

It was then it clicked.

Even with his mind in a puddle, Bruce was able to recall enough from the stories the caretaker had told him about the child who was able to escape the pit and line it up with what his memory served him about Ra's Al Ghul.

"You were the mercenary who fell in love with the warlord's daughter," Bruce said, "Bane is your child…your heir."

Ra's Al Ghul puffed with pride, "An heir to ensure the League of Shadows fulfills its duty to restore balance to civilization." He bent down to look Bruce in his agonized eyes, "An heir to do what you never could."

"No…"

"You yourself fought the decadence of Gotham for years. With all your strength and resources, all your moral authority," He sneered, "And the only victory you could achieve was a lie."

"No!" Bruce cried out desperately, "You're wrong. It was never a lie. There is good in this world worth fighting for. There are people who carry a light with them that Bane won't be able to stamp out, and your League…y-your heinous idea of a balanced civilization will die just like you did." Bruce tried to muster as much bite and acid in his voice as possible, but even so, there was a hollowness behind his words.

Ra's Al Ghul began to chuckle, "Do you honestly believe that Bruce? That there is still a light, a goodness in the people of Gotham? Or…" Ra's reached into Bruce's dirty shirt and pulled out a gleaming silver necklace. The caretaker must have put on him when he was out. Ra's Al Ghul rubbed the circular pendant in between his fingers, making Bruce wince as he said, "Or…is it that little girl that you are referring to?"

"Leave her out of this," Bruce ground out, nearly throwing himself forward but stopping himself at the jolt of pain in his back, "She never deserved what Bane is putting her through…all she ever did was believe in me."

Ra's Al Ghul smirked darkly, "Ah…but Bane never did anything without a purpose, did he, Bruce? He would never pluck an innocent girl from her happy life unless he saw something. He is no common criminal now is he?"

"What are you talking about?" Bruce asked.

Ra's Al Ghul leaned close enough to stare into Bruce's eyes, "You might be surprised how deep some people's darkness descends…do not think for one seconds that there are people who are actually pure and innocent in this world. There are only those who know how to hide it—and those…those are the most dangerous are they not?"

Bruce could not believe what he was implying…he would not. Profusely, he shook his head, insisting, "No. You're lying!"

"Finally, you understand…" Ra's Al Ghul stood up and began to drift back into the shadows just as Bruce's eyesight began to swim. The pain began to bloom all over him again as Ra's Al Ghul left him with disheartening words, "Gotham is beyond saving…"

"NO! God, no!" Bruce shouted before breaking down into agonizing, sobs marked by his own fill of pain, confusion and anger, forgetting that he was crying out against a shadow conjured by his own mind.

I really enjoyed finally revisiting Bruce. It was a nice change, taking time off from thinking like Lucy hehe. Anyways, I wanted to just comment on how I made Bruce aware of the fact that Ra's Al Ghul was not actually risen from the dead and how in the movies that was not very clear. I wanted to make Bruce aware of the fact that this was something caused from his delirious mind so that there was more weight to Ra's Al Ghul's shade was saying to him because it came from his own mind.

So just wanted to clarify that…

Either way, I hope you liked that and can promise that more is to come but I can't necessarily say when. Please be understanding and know that I do not rush chapters for the sake of posting. I always want to give you all a quality read.

Please review, follow, favorite and let me know how I am doing!

Thanks!

Till next time!