AND AMBITIONS ARE LOW

I started going out again. Like I used to. Not just with Joshua either but with my other friends. Well, if you could even call them that. I knew that Josh was the only one of them that actually cared about me. But I didn't care. I didn't care because I didn't need my inhabitations when I was around these people. I didn't need to have goals or something interesting to say or feelings even. As a consequence of going out again I started drinking again too. It was bound to happen, I didn't swear to anyone that I was going to stay sober and now that Josh wasn't my boyfriend anymore I didn't have to stay clean either. It was a relief really. I didn't have to hide what I was at home anymore. I could have lines of coke strewn across my coffee table and nobody would bat an eye. And I was fine. Well… kind of anyways.

About a week after I had gone to my own exhibit I received a call from John Daggett. I almost told him to go fuck himself as soon as his secretary put him on the line but I was curious.

"Magdalene," he exclaimed jovially, "Now, I know you're probably extremely busy getting reacquainted in the land of the living but-"

"I'm about to hang up on you so you better spit it out." The land of the living, is this guy serious?

"Okay, okay, someone's testy." He cooed, I just groaned and started putting the receiver down, "Wait, wait okay. I was hoping you'd accompany me this evening to a little party." I scoffed into the phone.

"Ah- no." I replied simply.

"It's with all the right people, all the people who have invested so much money into your career. In fact Miranda Tate who's hosting the little get together just bought one of your pieces for her private collection. That means you are among the ranks of Monet and Rembrandt…"

"She's a rich self-righteous environmentalist who thinks she knows everything about everyone even though she doesn't truly understand feelings. I've seen her around and I always get this cold vibe from her. I hate those people who just buy things because it's fashionable to do so, because they're expensive and it makes them seem cultured and sophisticated." I said spitefully as I started painting my toenails with my free hand.

"But you're the woman of the hour. You're the fashionable possession." Daggett argued.

"I don't care what I am… I hate them but more importantly I don't want to go to a party with you." I paused for a moment, "You know I'm only 19 years old right? I could be your daughter."

"Ah but you're not." He replied suggestively.

"You're disgusting." I said but I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Be that as it may I told Tate as well as the Congressman that I was taking you. You wouldn't want to make me look bad would you?" He asked slyly.

"Yes I would." I responded quickly.

"Magdalene, don't be a child. Come with me, we'll have a few drinks, dance, you can insult all the rich people that you want while they bite their tongues and overwhelm you with flattery. It'll be a laugh."

"Is that your pitch?" I asked after he had finished.

"Yes, that's it." He sighed. I was contemplated it for a moment and glanced at my cell phone. People had been trying to invite me out all day but I stuck to ignoring them, thinking that I was just going to stay in for the night. Maybe watch L.A Confidential and work. I hadn't been working much lately, other than on the Polaroids. Ever since the hospital I had been taking pictures just to keep track of things. My pictures ranged from the doctors and nurses to my cabdriver or Joshua. I could feel them coming together into a project but I hadn't figured out what it was yet. I turned my attention back the man on the other end of the phone.

"Can I bring my camera?"

And there I was, waiting in a black lace dress to be taken to a party full of people that I despised. They knew I despised them too, I had never held back any of my hatred and somehow that had kept me in demand. I was "troubled", "unstable", "talented but tragic" or "a beautiful disaster". My life was nothing but an amusing pastime to them. The limo pulled up a few moments later and Daggett stepped out. He looked me up and down and grinned.

"Well don't you look appropriate…" He smirked. I looked down at the short dress with the lace up, knee high, black, Burberry boots and shrugged, "The black contrasts the bandages." He indicated to the white wrapping still around my wrist, "Can't you take those off yet."

"The scars are pretty gruesome right now." I replied, "I thought I better keep them on since I was going to be in the presence of polite society."

"Yeah, cause you definitely dressed the part." He mocked.

"Shut the fuck up, do you want me to go or what?" I shot back. He just laughed and nodded, holding open the limousine door for me.

"Personally I think you look sexy." He said, not too subtly staring at my chest.

"Personally I think you're a child molester." With that I got into the car. Daggett took the drive as an opportunity to get me all caught up on things that I didn't care about. He wanted Wayne Enterprises of that much I was clear. He kept talking about it, how something big was going to happen soon and it put me a little on edge. When we were almost there and his attention was diverted to the glass of whiskey in his hand I grabbed the Polaroid camera out of my purse. I snapped a shot of him just as he was turning towards me, an eerie kind of grin on his face. He looked astonished as I grabbed the newly printed picture.

"What was that?" He demanded.

"You said I could bring my camera." I stated simply, "What did you think I was going to do with it?"

"I thought you were kidding." He replied calmly, looking out the window.

"I wasn't." I bit my lip as the photo was drying and I slipped it safely in my purse along with the camera. A few minutes later we arrived.

The paparazzi had gathered outside the doors waiting for someone interesting to show. Apparently I didn't disappoint. As soon as I stepped out, my eyes were met with a million flashes. I was used to it though so I just gave them a familiar half smile and kept walking towards the door. Daggett was left trailing behind and I refused to even let him touch my arm while we were in front of the cameras. Once we entered the safety of the building I got the feeling that we were very late.

"When did this thing start?" I asked.

"About 2 and a half hours ago." Daggett whispered in my ear.

"You take fashionably late to a whole new level." I smiled, "I approve."

"I hoped you would." He answered with a wink. Suddenly people surrounded me; people whom I've never met before, people whom I have but didn't remember and people whom I have and didn't want to remember. They were all there and I felt suffocated. My savior was the camera. It turned out that people didn't like having their photos taken when they weren't posing. So far I had caught one affair, one recreational drug deal and a lot of people looking either insanely bored or insanely drunk. I was quite enjoying myself actually. And then something weird happened. Something that no one saw coming. Bruce Wayne entered the party. He was limping on a cane but he still looked exactly the same as I remembered when I was 11 years old and he went into hiding. Right after Dent's death, right after the Joker's crime reign ended, the year that everybody said the peace started. I had never met him. Back then I was just a little kid living in the Narrows with my totally inadequate parents. He was the playboy billionaire that everyone wanted to be friends with. I snapped a picture of him as he was swarmed with people, people who were shocked to see him reemerge from oblivion. He looked up upon seeing the flash and stared at me intently. Then he slowly came up to me with a charming smile plastered on his face. I didn't say anything once he was standing right in front of me. I just waited.

"Are you a reporter?" He asked and I shook my head and smiled. He didn't know who I was. I was glad somehow. That meant that he didn't know what I had done. He didn't want to tell me how "talented" I was. He didn't need to lie to me because I wasn't in any way significant to him, "What are you then?"

"Trouble." I responded and pulled the Polaroid out, looking at it as the image began to appear.

"I don't want my picture taken."

"Most people don't." I said, "Well not when they don't know they're being photographed anyways. People are interesting when they don't think anyone is looking. They're different."

"And how am I different?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"You look tired. Beaten down." I answered glancing down at the picture again before pushing it into my purse.

"Why are you here?" He asked, "This isn't really a fun party to be crashing…"

"Ah Mr. Wayne." Miranda Tate's accented voice floated seductively from behind us, "It's so wonderful to see you again. It's been so long. I see you've met the woman of the hour." Tate gave me a full smile, "Ms. Gray I absolutely adore your painting I really sincerely do. I quite like how almost gruesome it is. Your work is so… true. It's refreshing amongst these people." She said. I nodded at her in acknowledgement, a small smile playing at my lips. Bruce looked confused.

"The woman of the hour?" He asked, "And here I thought you had snuck in." I shrugged, "Who are you exactly?"

"Oh you're in for quite the shock Mr. Wayne. Things have changed a bit while you were gone." Miranda patted Wayne on the shoulder, winked at me and then walked away to make small talk with her other guests.

"So I suppose introductions are in order? I'm Bruce Wayne and you are?"

"Magdalene Gray."

"Sounds familiar…"

"I did that." I pointed to the painting that was on display in the middle of the room. There were quite a few people crowded around it, as well as the people dancing that were obscuring our view. He was speechless for a moment.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yeah. Really."

"When?" He asked. I thought back but I was drawing a blank.

"I don't remember." I told him honestly.

"It's good." He remarked. I could tell that he didn't know much about art. He knew what was considered "good art" and what wasn't, like most members of society, but other than that he seemed clueless.

"It's okay if you don't get it." I looked around the room; "You probably have a clearer picture than most of the people in this room." I laughed.

"So what does it mean?"

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean." I said, "For me…" I looked it over and suddenly remembered when I had done it, "It meant the end of an era. Love lost. A brave new world." He appraised me for a moment and then smiled sadly, nodding. After a moment of silence he spotted someone on the dance floor that he needed to speak to and excused himself. I on the other hand decided that I wanted to go home.

I had to find Daggett and after searching the entire first floor I thought I'd try upstairs. I started opening random doors in my search for my sleazy escort. Until I came across one at the end of the hall, without thinking much about it I just opened it without knocking first and what I found came as quite the surprise. The first person I saw was John and I was relieved. I was starting to itch for a hit of something… anything, and I was really anxious to get home. But then I saw him and my mouth fell open. Whoever he was, he was massive. He wore a black bulletproof vest, which showed off the bulging muscles on his arms. However, the thing that grabbed my attention, and I suppose everyone's attention upon first seeing him, was the terrifyingly intimidating mask that covered the majority of his face.

"Magdalene…" Daggett warned, "You should have knocked." I looked at him with wide eyes for a moment and then back at the man with the mask.

"I-" I stuttered, "I'm sorry. I'll leave." I swallowed and turned to leave but suddenly the door was slammed shut in front of me. I looked up to see Daggett staring down at me solemnly.

"Unfortunately, it's too late for that. You're a liability now and I can't risk that." The unfamiliar voice hung eerily in the air. It was mechanical and accented and it sent shivers down my spine making me shake a little in the cold room.

"I won't tell anyone." I promised as I turned around again. I looked at Daggett pleadingly, "I'm good at keeping secrets, and I'm extremely selfish so you don't have to worry about me playing hero. Whatever this is, I won't interfere." The man's laugh reverberated off the wall of the room.

"I recognize you." He said ominously, "You're the little starlet that everyone's talking about." I just looked at Daggett desperately.

"Please, tell him I won't do tell anyone. You know me… kind of. You don't want to do this to me." I begged but Daggett ignored me so I turned my attention back on the other man, "Who would believe me anyways? Who would I tell about the big man in the mask? I'm a drug addict who just tried to commit suicide. Just let me go. I couldn't endanger you even if I tried." The man looked at me intently for a moment before shaking his head slowly and then turning to Daggett.

"We'll have to detain her until the plan is in place. Leave now. I'll take care of it." He spoke so firmly that Daggett could do nothing but nod and leave the room. The man placed his large hands on my shoulders and I was actually shaking with fright, "I will not hurt you little starlet, not unless you anger me." I just remained silent. He led me over to the bed that took up most of the room and sat me down, "So Magdalene, what are you doing at this party? Not exactly where I'd expect to find a girl like you."

"A girl like me?"

"A selfish drug addict, as you said." He replied mockingly.

"Daggett invited me. He said that it was expected of me, since Miranda Tate spent a lot of money on one of my painting."

"Did she now?" He raised an eyebrow, "Hmm… but still, I don't think that would convince you."

"I'm working on a new project." I didn't know why I was divulging all this information to the man holding me captive but I was too afraid not to. I reached into my purse shakily to retrieve some of the polaroid pictures I had taken. He took them from me and slowly examined each one. I wasn't sure, but he seemed amused.

"You don't show these people in a very good light." He commented.

"I show them for what they really are." I said, "It's not my fault that they're not very good people." I thought I heard a low chuckle coming from his mask at that.

"What's your name?" I asked cautiously.

"You may call me Bane."

It's a strange thing when horror turns to curiosity. But slowly through the night I started to realize that Bane fascinated me more than he scared me. Maybe I just had a death wish. Well… I know I did actually.

"You are different, little starlet." Bane said, "I think you would make quite a nice pet." I considered him for a moment. His eyes were really startling and piercingly lovely. They could portray the emotions that his mouth could not.

"Would I be able to take pictures?" I asked.

"Yes. I suppose so." He consented, "I suppose you could do whatever you wanted really while being confined."

"Confined?" I shook my head, "No, on second thought I don't think I'd like to be anyone's plaything. It would be an interesting experience to document but I don't think it's worth my freedom."

"Isn't it?" He seemed almost surprised, "And what has freedom given you?" He took my wrists in his hands and flipped them so that we were looking at the places I slit, "Nothing by scars."

"And fame… and fortune." I argued.

"Which have rendered you miserable and suicidal."

"You don't know me." I said quickly, "Why do you wear that mask?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"No one took me seriously before I put on the mask." He said but I shook my head.

"No, you need it. I can tell. Why do you have it?" The noise from downstairs had died down and Bane seemed to notice the lack of chatting or music at that moment.

"Stay here." He ordered. He stood up and left the room. I waited, my heart beating out of my chest, for him to return. I didn't have to wait for long as he was back in mere minutes. He walked towards me and roughly took my arm, forcing me to my feet.

"I'm not going to run." I told him, "I don't have any illusions that I'll be able to escape you."

"Do you really give up so easy?" He teased, "I'm almost disappointed."

"I'm a realist." I stated. He let go of my arm and I followed him down the stairs to the entrance that had long since seen the last guest out. I didn't see Miranda Tate anywhere and I wondered how Bane had even gotten into her house without her knowledge or why he was here in the first place if he didn't want to be seen. He stopped for a moment in front of my painting and examined it for a moment.

"Disturbing." He commented and then continued to walk out the door. A car was waiting outside the building, which he all but pushed me into. The driver just took off without saying a word. I took out my camera and quickly snapped a picture of the man as he drove. When I looked down at it, after it was developed I realized that the man looked almost hypnotized. Bound by a fake sense of pride. He seemed loyal, almost too loyal, to his cause. Whatever cause it was. The driver didn't even flinch when the flash went off, probably relying on the fact that if Bane had a problem with it he would take care of it himself. But Bane either didn't notice or didn't care because he continued to just stare in front of him expressionlessly. Eventually the car entered the Narrows. I looked out the window as the familiar streets of my childhood passed me by. They held no fear over me, only memories that I'd long since forced myself to forget. The car came to an abrupt stop in a dark and empty alleyway. I looked around, confused, why are we stopping here? The buildings around us were residential. I supposed that maybe they could be used as a hideout but for the elaborate organization that Bane seemed to be running, it was an unlikely spot. To my ultimate surprise though, he didn't make a move to go into one of the buildings, instead he opened the manhole in the ground, leading down the sewers. I looked up at him before shaking me head adamantly.

"No." I said, "No, no, no, no, no." I repeated as if that would somehow convince him of my stance on the subject.

"Yes, my little starlet." He answered smugly and then indicated for the driver to go in first. I continued to shake my head and tried backing up but I ran into his chest in the process.

"I'm not going in there." I declared, "I don't like small dark places." He seemed to find this amusing and simply pushed me foreword towards the hole, "Stop. I'll go anywhere else, really I will. Anywhere you want. Just not there." My fear had returned. The skeletons in my closet were coming to the surface. The image of a little girl trapped in a small pitch-black hole rushed to mind. Bane grabbed me suddenly and started forcing me towards the manhole. I started pounding on his chest and kicking desperately, "Stop no, I don't want to go down there! I'll be good, I'll be a good girl, just don't make me!" Bane looked taken aback for a moment as I sobbed openly. He released me and I fell to the ground with a 'thump'.

"Small dark places hmm?" He question with an eyebrow raised, "It may be small and dark at first but I assure you that the atmosphere will change once we reach our destination." Suddenly an idea occurred to him and he reached into my bag and grabbed my camera. Before I knew what was happening he had snapped a photograph of me, a heap on the floor, crying. I didn't have anytime to react before he put the photo in his pocket and lifted me up in his arms. I closed my eyes and tried to contain my tears as he carried me down into the dark.

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