1Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman characters. They are the property of DC Comics. Please don't sue me. I only really own the character I made up, Patricia.

Patricia stood staring at the television in front of her desk. The MI6 badge, hanging from her belt loop, reflected the gruesome images that were now being broadcast to the entire world. It all started in an American city, at an American football game. A place where everyone thought they were safe, until a series of explosions caused the ground to crumble beneath the players, killing more than a few. That was when the scene was brought to her attention. Now, the entire department, including the Director of MI6, Samuel Wilson, were watching with bated breath. The crowd at the Gotham arena looked terrified, confused, and panicked as some ran for the exits.

"Gotham, take control... take control of your city. Behold, the instrument of your liberation!" A masked man, known to certain agencies simply as Bane, said, holing the microphone once belonging to the game referee. He had come out on the field surrounded by men with machine guns. A disheveled man was kneeling in front of Bane. His clothes were torn and ragged, his face dirty and worn, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Identify yourself to the world. " His voice was muffled through the mask covering his face. His accent thick. Bane's brown eyes were focused on the man in front of him, on his knees. The football stadium was a mess. A bomb had gone off, several in fact. The mayor had been killed first, his VIP booth blown up. Then they cut Gotham off from the mainland. Every country in the world was coordinating with the American government. No one took terrorism lightly.

"I am Dr Leonid Pavel, a nuclear scientist." His voice shook as he looked up at his intimidating captor. Leonid Pavel had been missing, presumed dead for weeks.

"It's him." A man in Patricia's office yelled. "Our systems have a 100% facial recognition match, so do the yanks." Patricia Robertson couldn't tear her eyes away. She was now holding both sides of the desk in front of her. Hoping no one would notice the drastic change in her mood. The dark office, underground, was cold. Technology was the only light. When you worked with MI6, people didn't know where you were.

"What have you done to this device?" Bane asked, addressing the large piece of equipment that had been brought on the field behind him. Everyone in the office was quiet.

"I've turned it into a working nuclear bomb." Dr Pavel replied. An audible gasp ran through the office, and the air became tense. This wasn't threatening stadium of several thousand people, this was an entire large city, millions of people. The yanks were on the phones immediately.

"Who among the people in this city can disarm this device?" Bane asked.

"Only me..." The doctor replied. Patricia's breathing quickened. He couldn't be doing this.

"We need to get planes in the air." Their director was saying. "We need specialists in that city." He walked over to her. "Robertson." Patricia put her hand up and watched the screen.

"I highly doubt he's done sir." She said barely above a whisper.

"Only you... " Bane's voice echoed across the quiet stadium. "Thank you, good doctor." He reached for the older man and in mere seconds, the doctor lay dead. His neck broken. Patricia lowered her head. Screaming was now filling the stadium as people started to panic.

"Patricia, come on. Situation room." Director Wilson said quietly. She tore her eyes away from the brown eyes on the screen. The brown eyes with no compassion, with no love left in them. The situation room was quiet. A phone sat in the center of the room connecting them with the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the President of the United States.

"Something must be done." The President was saying confidently. "We can not allow him to hurt any innocent civilians."

"Mr. President." The head of the FBI started. "We'll have to send in armies. We aren't sure how many men this terrorist has." Patricia winced, luckily, no one noticed. "The last Intel we received from the acting commissioner said that Bane's army was underground. The cops were going into the sewers to try to catch them."

"All of them?" Patricia asked.

"Gentleman, this is Patricia Robertson. She is one of our top agents. She specializes in terrorist cells. She's been looking for Bane for a number of years now."

"Yes, all the police miss Robertson." The FBI director stated. "All of them are trapped."

"My god." The President added, sullenly.

"Sir." Another MI6 agent had come in. "It's Bane sir."

"What is it?" The Wilson asked. Patricia could hear the other important men all getting similar notifications.

"He says that a civilian of Gotham is in control of the detonator. That if anyone military or any kind of police go into the city, or if any civilian tries to leave, even by swimming, the bomb will be triggered."

"How serious is he?" Wilson asked Patricia. She had both hands on the desk as if concentrating.

"Director Parsons." She called, asking for the head of the FBI.

"Yes ma'am."

"You said acting commissioner earlier. What happened to the original?"

"Commissioner Gordon was taken into the sewers, some time ago. He managed to escape but not before being shot by Bane's men. Another officer, uh, John Blake, found him and took him to the hospital. That's where he's been ever since. He had said something about an underground army, but no one took him seriously until the board of a major company was taken."

"What company?" Patricia asked.

"Uh, Wayne Enterprises." She could tell he was reading from a police report. "They took three of the board members."

"Where are the board members now?" Wilson asked.

"Still missing." Parsons responded.

"Get information to them in any way possible." Patricia said quickly. "The cops that were off that day and are still in the upper city, tell them to be careful. Whatever they plan they need to not draw attention to the fact that they're cops. Bane is rallying people against the local government, and that's going to be the police." She paused. "Also, we need to figure out what's so special about Wayne Enterprises, why members of that board. Why only 3?"

"Miss Robertson." The President said.

"Yes, sir." She replied.

"You seem to know this man well. Is his threat credible?"

"Extremely." Patricia answered, her stomach ached just thinking about it.

"We just received some news." Parsons announced. "Bane and his men will allow food and other provisions to be brought into the city."

"That's one way in." Wilson stated. "We send in agents with food trucks. No badges, no weapons, different ID's"

"Another message we need to get in there." Patricia said pulling up files on the computer screen in front of them. "Any socialites in Gotham. They need to hide."

"Hide?" Parsons asked, quizzically.

"Yes. Bane is acting very anti-establishment. The idea the upper class having everything, in abundance, while beggars have nothing repulses him. He wants a revolution." She kept looking through files, bringing up one. "Like this guy." His file name was Bruce Wayne." She paused. A pang of recognition shot through her, but she pushed it aside. "How heavily is Mr. Wayne still associated with Wayne Enterprises?"

"Very." Parson's replied.

"He has to hide. Anyone with large amounts of money, anyone who worked in any type of government; tell them to find safety and shelter. For now, their old lives are gone." She pulled up more files, the board of directors for Wayne Enterprises. Lucius Fox, Miranda Tate. Patricia's eyes narrowed.

"Is everything alright?" Director Wilson asked.

"Yeah." She shook the feeling. Their was something in that woman's eyes she knew, she just couldn't place it.

"This is the town with that Batman fellow, correct?" Wilson asked.

"Yes, this is the place." Parsons replied.

"Where is he? Does anyone know how to get in touch with him?"

"He came back for a while but after that he was gone."

"Gone?" Patricia asked.

"No one has seen him in some time, no one knows why." The President added.

"Bane probably did something with him before this whole charade." Parsons replied. Director Wilson changed the screen from computer mode to television mode and every news station in every language was replaying Bane's announcements. A picture was brought up on the screen of just Bane and Patricia could feel her blood go cold.

"I'm going." She said simply.

"Excuse me?" Her director asked.

"I'm going to try to get into Gotham with the other agents. I know this guy better than almost anyone."

"Parsons. One of my best agents is coming to the States with me."

"We look forward to the expertise Miss Robertson."

Patricia's eyes looked back toward the screen. Bane's face was still on the screen and she had to look away. She was trying to find him to save him. Now what could she do?

Patricia's heart pounded in her chest as she ran down the cobblestone streets of Italy. She'd always wanted to see Italy. Growing up in the UK gave her a lot of opportunities, but for one reason or another, she never took them. Now, she didn't have time to stop and see it. They thought they were going to be there for at least a month, but their young looks had drawn too much suspicion.

"I can't do it anymore." Dominic's eyes were contorted in pain. A towel was pulled across his face, hiding things he didn't want to show. "I don't have anymore medicine." Patricia could see tears falling from his eyes as pain raked his body.

"Please, we have to keep going." She begged him.

"I'm sorry." His soft hand touched her face.

"Don't move." She said quickly, her eyes darting around. They were behind an empty stand. The proprietor must have left for an early lunch. "Stay here and don't make a sound."

"No, Tricia, don't." Not listening, she jumped up and ran to the other side of the road near a fountain. She could see the men running through the city of Rome, looking for them. They caught her eye and she took off, drawing them away from Dominic. She ran through the city, the two men tearing after her. She had turned around for a moment looking at the, now only one, man running behind her when two strong arms grabbed her around the waist.

"Let me go!" she shouted.

"Where is he?" The man had a gun to her head. Several locals screamed and ran into their homes.

"He's already gone." Patricia lied.

"Damn it!" The second man said, his voice strained from the running. "We have to bring him back or we'll be stuck in there."

"Where was he going!" The first man screamed.

"Why would you ever think that I'd tell you?" Her British accent was thick and she was speaking through clenched teeth.

"Because if you don't he'll come back to nothing but your blood splattered on the ground." She heard the safety of the gun click off and felt the cold barrel against her head. She closed her eyes. The next thing she felt was the man being forcefully pulled off of her. She heard a groan as one of the men was shoved to the ground. She saw the gun slide under a stand she dove for it. When she finally had it in her hands and she turned around the two men were both on the ground. The man who originally had the gun was trying to stop his nose from bleeding. The other was helping his friend to his feet. Dominic stood a few feet away from her, staring menacingly at the men. His towel had fallen and the men were looking in horror upon his face. A mask was covering his mouth and nose, a dark black mask that contrasted with his pale skin. It looked primitive. The first man finally got to his feet, his nose still bleeding.

"Their is a heavy price on your head boy, you have a debt to pay and you've been avoiding it for too long."

"If you know what's good for you, you will run as fast as you can." Dominic's hand was shaking, no matter how hard he tried to keep it steady. Only Patricia noticed.

"We'll be back. Someone will get you. And you will spend your life in that prison, while your pretty little girl plays with us." Dominic screamed and pulled the gun from Patricia's hand. He aimed.

"Don't." Patricia pleaded. "Don't become what they want you to be." His brown eyes, the same shade as hers, focused on her then the men.

"Run." They didn't wait. They turned and moved as fast as they could. As soon as they were out of eye range Dominic fell. Patricia helped him to rest against a wall. The amount of pain he was in had to be almost unbearable. Older men and women had come over.

"Is he alright?" A man asked, kneeling beside him. He was the only one who came close enough to speak to them, everyone else was weary, looking at his mask. Patricia could see that the mask needed repairing.

"I need medicine. A type of anesthetic." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and some money. "Can you or anyone get me this? I have money." The man quickly spoke in Italian calling over a younger boy handing him the paper and currency he whispered something before the kid ran off.

"Dominic." She said softly. His eyes fluttered open. "I have to take off your mask." He nodded. "Will you hold his hand?" She asked the older man and he immediately did. Patricia pulled off his mask and he let out a animal like moan. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry my love." She was trying to fix it as quickly as possible. His body was shaking from pain and he looked as if he would pass out at any moment. The boy ran up with the medicine, and she added it to his mask. She went to put the mask back on but he grabbed her hand and pulled her close. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

"Don't say that. You saved me. I'm going to get you out of this, one way or another." He kissed her softly, but she felt his body shudder under the pain. Fixing the mask to his face a look of serenity came over him. She could tell he was close to passing out.

"Tricia..." He said, his eyes closing. "Tricia.."

"Patricia." She was pulled quickly out of her haze. She was trying to hold onto that image. The scariest and best time of her life. She would give anything to go back there again.

"You seemed to be in your own little world." Wilson commented. They were flying on a plane to Washington D.C.

"Just planning, sir." She replied.

"I know it's a great risk going in there."

"You have no idea, sir." She added, looking out the plane window. In a few hours she would be touching down in the DC airport. Then on to the White House situation room to make a plan on how to attack and kill the person she worked her entire career to free.