Disclaimer: I do not own and am in no way affiliated with The Dark Knight franchise.

"I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate."

― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Chapter Four

An icy wind picked up as they trekked silently through the streets. Though the nausea and dizziness had abated, good signs, Audrey's headache only seemed to be getting worse. Her hands and knees stung in the places where they had hit the ground. To distract herself, she looked around, taking in the wreckage: broken windows, the glittering glass shards the only remnants of where looters had struck; heaps of burnt finery; damaged vehicles- had this really happened in such a short period of time?

Once, while working with a medical team in South Sudan, she had witnessed the direct aftermath of the armed conflict they were constantly being warned about. The villagers, in the wake of such devastation, had displayed great, moving grief and stoicism. Survivors came together to move on, knowing it could happen again.

Gotham was a ghost town in comparison. There was no one to mourn its destruction or to piece it back together.

Being forced to a stop brought her out of her thoughts. In front of them loomed an old building, tall columns positioned on either side of the door making it look like the Gates of Hell. Even from where they stood, wild screams and cheering could be heard within. Pence pulled the door open and they stepped inside Crane's court.

She had never seen anything like it.

The first thing they encountered was a sort of prison cell made of wire fencing filled with people. Posted at the entrance and on either side of the gate were guards with weapons. Some of the prisoners sat, their eyes glazed over with a kind of numb acceptance. Others shouted at the men guarding them, at the crowds inside, at whoever would listen to them. One bold man stuck his hand out of the cage and was rewarded with the butt of a gun to his fingers. Audrey's own hand twitched in sympathy.

She felt the stares of those watching, some with sympathy and some with envy, as she was pulled forward. One of the guards by the fencing nodded at Barsad before allowing them through.

As they moved along the edge of the crowd, she noticed people from all walks of life gathered around something in the middle of the room. At least that was what it looked like, at first. Some of the people she had mistaken as "wealthy" were, in fact, just dressed that way. Every eye in the room had the same feverish glint- these were people out for blood.

Presiding over it all was Jonathan Crane, a twisted fairy-tale figure she had only ever glimpsed on TV brought to life. He sat above them at an improvised court bench. The stacks of files and scattered reams of papers atop it as precariously balanced as the sanity of the man behind them. Though not the most notorious of Gotham's criminal element, during her residency Audrey had heard horror stories of things that had taken place in Arkham Asylum. Staff loved to gossip about the patients who had been under Crane's care and what happened to them when they'd been brought in after his apprehension.

He had gone a little gray around the temples, but it only served to make him look more dangerous. And insane. His eyes roamed the court room and she shuddered as they passed over her.

Her gaze shifted to the chair in the middle of the room. A man was unceremoniously dragged through the room and deposited into it. She strained to see who it was. When she got a clear view, it was as though someone had sucker punched her.

"Chad Hearst!" Crane called out. "You sit before the people of Gotham on charges of corruption and exploitation."

Chad looked wildly around the court room for help. He briefly locked eyes with her and the pitiful expression on his face made something in her chest tighten.

"I didn't do this! Please!"

Though she knew better, it felt as though he was speaking to her and her alone. His cries were met with deafening jeers and taunts.

Audrey stepped forward, unaware that she had not been moving for some time and was met with resistance. No one deserves this, she thought before she whipped around and glared at Barsad who seemed indifferent to the chaos. "I know him! I have to help!" The mercenary's grip tightened in response.

Crane banged his gavel until there were nothing more than scattered murmurs. "You've already been found guilty, Mr. Hearst." He rolled his eyes. Clearly, he had explained this concept more than once. His audience burst into a cacophony of laughter that made Audrey sick to her stomach. "Now," he began again, this time in a more business-like tone. "Which do you choose: exile or death?"

Chad's sobbing reply was lost in the din of people screaming for both options.

"Death!" Crane exclaimed, gleefully banging the gavel as a tidal wave of cheers rose through the room. Chad began thrashing frantically, the shouts growing louder, as the man standing to the left brought the gun to his head. There was a sound like a car backfiring and Chad's body slumped in the seat, a trail of deep crimson pouring from the side of his head.

Her ears rang as she stood there, frozen in shock. They shot him. They just shot him. Angry, hot tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them away. No crying. Not now.

There was a second explosion; this time of excitement from the mob as his body was dragged unceremoniously away from the scene and the next name was called. Barsad yanked her arm, signaling it was time to go.

Never before had she felt so utterly small. Before she had thought Pence bulky and Barsad tall, but even at a distance she could tell that Bane towered over them all. To say she was terrified would have been an understatement, but something else stirred inside her at the sight of him. Anger.

Pence, who had been full of scathing remarks and bravado until this point, appeared nervous. Barsad, however, remained unfazed. He passed her off to his companion. "Hold onto her," he warned. As if Audrey would have dared try to escape after what she had just witnessed. She and Pence watched as Barsad spoke to their leader at length then motioned for them to follow.

She kept her eyes to the ground, not wanting to catch another look into whatever circle of Hell she had stumbled into. As the doors closed behind them, she felt like she could breathe again. The cold air felt good against the warmth of her face and the relative quiet of the outside was a relief.

"Step forward," Bane commanded. She willed her feet to move, but they remained rooted to the ground. When Pence roughly shoved her in front of the beastly man she was almost grateful. "Your name?"

"Audrey," she said quietly. "Audrey Campbell."

"Barsad tells me you're a nurse." The deep, faintly mechanical voice had a soothing, almost cadential quality to it.

She raised her gaze to meet his, unwilling to seem meek in front of him. Immediately she had to fight the urge to look away. Somehow his eyes managed to be both cold and expressive. Yet there was no mercy in them.

"I am," she confirmed. "For about 7 years now." It was the world's deadliest job interview. Get through this and maybe you can find a way to get home, she told herself. She cleared her throat. "I'm sure you're understaffed medically. Most Gotham doctors and nurses won't come near you or your men, they'll be too scared." Something in his face changed and she knew she had said the right thing. This bolstered her confidence. "I can help. I used to work with Doctors Without Borders and I've dealt with combat wounds before."

Bane stared at her, scrutinizing her. To ease her nerves, she fixed her attention on his mask. She had seen something like it before, she realized. In India there had been a hospital that had boasted of fashioning a mask to anaesthetize a patient, essentially allowing them to function through normally crippling amounts of pain. If even one element were to stop functioning properly, he would be in agony beyond belief. I hope it happens, she thought savagely.

"You will do." He turned to Barsad and clapped an enormous hand on the man's shoulder. "She's your responsibility now, brother." The mercenary nodded and a look passed between them that she could not read.

It was then that her brain finally made the connection to why Barsad looked so familiar. He had been at the football stadium when Bane had killed Dr. Pavel and again when they had released the Blackgate prisoners. Boy, you couldn't just leave it at mercenary capture. Oh no, she chastised. Not dramatic enough. It had to be his right-hand man. If you set him off, you're as good as dead. She gave her head a small shake to clear her thoughts. She had survived this far and would continue to do so; death was not an option.

"As for you," he rounded on Pence. "You've been greedy. I warned you what would happen."

He made a gesture with one hand and Barsad pulled out a pistol, firing two quick rounds.

That was it: no drama, no build up, no ceremony.

Audrey flinched as the shots echoed in the empty street.

Good, she thought, watching as the body collapsed in a heap on the steps. Almost immediately she was overwhelmed by guilt. He wasn't a good man, she reminded herself. It was a stupid justification, but it helped.

She was shaken out her trance just in time for her to watch Bane lumber back inside.

"Barsad…" she began, eyes searching his. He took her by the arm and turned her around, steering her forward.

They kept up the silence all the way to the high-rise tower of luxury apartments. Judging by the lavish lobby, it was a former stomping ground of Gotham's elite. Now it was ransacked, tables overturned, mirrors smashed; the living quarters of Bane's militia.

The penthouse that was to be her new home seemed to have been untouched in the pandemonium. Once they were inside, and the door closed, her body tensed. What happened now? As if reading her mind, Barsad directed her into the living room area and motioned for her to sit on the couch. She shook her head and remained standing, wrapping her arms around her torso as though it were enough to hold her together.

"You'll start work tomorrow morning. You're welcome to anything in the kitchen. Your room is the one at that end of the hall." He pointed to the left. "My room is on the opposite end. The door is always locked." Here he gave her a look, as if to say, so don't try anything. She bristled at being treated like a mischievous child. "I have duties that may keep me away for longer periods of time, but there will always be someone-"

"What's the point of all of this?" she interrupted, frustration leaking into the question.

"You were right. We need more medical staff."

"What's the point," she repeated, "If you're just going to kill your own people?"

"We're a well-organized group; Pence was… not disciplined. Nor was he an original part of our operation. Those who are not willing to fall into line are dispensable." This last part he emphasized in a way that left no room for interpretation. She, too, was dispensable. He was so calm, so seemingly unflappable about this whole thing, that it only infuriated her more.

"So, what? You just go around kidnapping people to get them to help your stupid cause? Which I don't believe in at all, by the way. Give the people Gotham back before you blow it up? Ha!" Her laughter was harsh, even to her own ears. "Look what they've done with it! If you thought it was rotten before…" She shook her head in disgust. "Congratulations. I hope Bane's really happy with what's he accomplished."

"I imagine he is."

She bit her lip, not trusting herself to say anything more. Without bothering to spare him another glance, she stormed off into the bedroom. My room, she reminded herself as she shut the door. She listened, ears straining to pick up any indicator that her new roommate might have followed. When she heard nothing, she turned and put her back against the heavy wood, the steadiness of it reassuring as she slid down to the floor.

The murky evening left the room in shadow, but she kept the light off. All strength drained from her, she crawled into the bed and pulled the comforter tightly around herself. She didn't want to do anymore reflecting. She wanted to pretend she was in her own bed, where she would wake up in the morning and laugh at how stupid this whole nightmare had been.

As she tossed and turned, images came to her: the people inside Crane's court room, of Chad, and of Pence standing over that woman, holding on to precious gems that no longer mattered. Her mouth tasted metallic, like old blood, and she had to choke back a warm surge of vomit.

It was then the tears started. Weeping quickly gave way to angry sobs as the fear, sadness, and other emotions she had managed to repress all day began to bubble up. She thought of her father, already so fragile, and how worried he must be. She would find a way to get back to him before detonation. I have to. I will, she promised.

Eventually the sobs turned to sniffles and, as the window of gray was enveloped by the comforting black of night, Audrey drifted off to sleep.