Introduction: I've been perusing this site for a few years now. I finally decided to write my own story when I saw The Dark Knight Rises and became fascinated with Tom Hardy's Bane. I have no shame about my fangirl-ism.

As the genre selections indicate, this is primarily a drama. There is definitely romance, but it comes much, much later. If you're looking for some pushover sex kitten who Bane's just going to fall madly in love with a few chapters in and bone every other paragraph, you're going to be disappointed. You're also in for a letdown if you're looking for Bane dishing out abuse on some hapless captive of the opposite sex, as I do not see him as a sadistic monster who would beat on or rape a woman. Definitely not a turn-on in any way. If you view Bane as a human being who's been shaped by his experiences and value plot and character development and interwoven story arcs, it just may be your cup of tea. I sincerely hope so :)

This is my first fan fiction, and I hope those who come across it enjoy it half as much as I do writing it. It is a continual work in progress, as I'm always going back and improving upon things as well as correcting technical errors (though I do hope those are few and far between). I may lengthen several of the shorter chapters if I ever have the time (I'll mention it in an update if it does indeed happen).

The only things I own are my original characters; Bane and the rest belong to DC Comics/Warner Bros.

The alarm clock went off, and Kate Lowry experienced that all too familiar feeling of dread once again. It was two in the afternoon, time for her to get up and begin what was sure to be yet another miserable night. She knew this one was going to be especially unpleasant considering the sullen mood she had developed the previous evening had carried over into the present day. Reaching with the intent of shutting off the annoying device, she hit the snooze button at the last second. Repositioning herself on her left side, she made a silent promise that she would rise when it sounded a second time. She clenched the plush body pillow lying parallel to her. The sleep she was enjoying seemed like the absolute best of her life until it was unceremoniously interrupted by the awful sound of the alarm. Not long after that last thought crossed her mind, she drifted back into her blissful slumber. She was roused by the alarm twice more until she finally had enough and switched it off for good.

After some time had passed, she awoke again and glanced at the clock. It was 2:45. She had managed to oversleep for 45 minutes. She didn't have much time to ready herself; she was due at work by four, and the commute alone would take every minute of half an hour.

"Shit," she exclaimed as she sent her bedding flying and rushed to the bathroom. Mentally kicking herself for oversleeping for the third time that week, she turned on the shower and pulled the curtain across the length of the tub.

After showering and brushing her teeth, she made her way to the bedroom closet where she retrieved her work uniform: a crisp white button-down shirt, a black vest, a belted pair of black slacks, and polished black shoes. She had despised the uniform since her first day on the job and wished she had a career rather than merely a menial job that barely made ends meet.

Since she had no time to style her hair, she had to settle for a quick blow-dry and a ponytail. After finishing her hair, she examined herself in front of the mirror. She was 25-years-old, but could probably pass for a few years younger. She stood at 5'7" and weighed around 120 pounds. Her build was slender, but was blessed with ample breasts. Her complexion was on the pale side, but her face had a healthy glow to it. Her hair was a deep brown, as dark as it could be without being black. She was content with her hair color, but its texture was always a source of disappointment. Her mane was wavy; not a perfect, shampoo-commercial kind of wavy, but a messy, unkempt wavy that rendered her thankful to whoever had invented the flat iron.

She supposed she was attractive, but would never go as far as to describe herself as beautiful. Her face had its fair share of flaws which included dimples and a slightly crooked smile. She was grateful for her attractive attributes, among which were straight teeth were straight and a proportionate nose and mouth. She had always thought her eyes were her best feature. A radiant shade of green, she had received many compliments on them throughout her life. Like most women, she employed cosmetics to improve her overall appearance, but due to her desire for extra sleep that day, she had no time to apply any save a single coat of powder to even out her skin tone. While studying her reflection, she became lost in a sea of disorganized thought, and her formerly concentrated stare ended up a blank gaze. After several moments, she snapped herself back to reality and headed for the door. She grabbed her lightweight pea coat and purse and exited the apartment, doubling back once to make sure she had locked the door behind her.

She made quick use of the stairs, as the elevator had not worked since she had moved into the semi-dilapidated building nearly a year ago. Once she reached the ground floor, she bolted out of the building and ran briskly to the nearest bus stop. After boarding, she dropped her token into the depository and proceeded to search for a seat. Her eyes rapidly scanned the passengers, but she made did not make eye contact with a single one. She made her way to the rear of the crammed bus, only to realize all the seats were full. As she stood with one hand on a pole for balance, she tried to concentrate on something more appealing than the night that lay ahead of her.

She had been employed at Lancaster Gourmet, an elite catering service, as a server for a little over a year. She loathed her job for a variety of reasons: the hours were long, the pay was abysmal, her coworkers were insufferable, and the work itself was overwhelmingly depressing. She spent her nights serving fine Epicurean fare she could never afford to the city's upper crust, Gotham's supposed crème de la crème. Municipal officials, business magnates, high-profile attorneys, heirs and heiresses, and occasionally even a few entertainment personalities; all were present and accounted for at these ostentatious gatherings. Each one was exactly the same as the one that had preceded it, night in and night out. And each one served as a harsh reminder of how much of a failure she was in the eyes of the unforgiving society of Gotham.

As the bus approached her stop, she carefully maneuvered between the myriad commuters. She hurried off the bus and continued her journey on foot until she reached her ultimate destination: Wayne Manor, the magnificent home of the world-renowned tycoon and philanthropist Bruce Wayne, the wealthiest, most prominent, and maybe even most physically attractive citizen of Gotham.

The festivities that night were in honor of former District Attorney Harvey Dent, Gotham's slain white knight. It was eight years to the day since he had been murdered by Batman, the infamous vigilante turned fugitive. At that time, Kate was a high school student with her whole life ahead of her. It was hard for her to believe it had been that long ago.

This particular gala's attendees were even more prestigious than usual. The mayor of Gotham, Anthony Garcia, was in attendance, as well as James Gordon, the city's celebrated police commissioner. Kate wasn't holding her breath on seeing the man of the house, however. Although his company sponsored many of the city's high-level functions, Wayne himself was a confirmed recluse. He hadn't been spotted in public even once for eight years. Oddly enough, his last public appearance occurred shortly before Dent's untimely demise.

Kate advanced towards west entrance of the sprawling estate as she had been instructed by her supervisor the previous day. She removed her coat and handed it, along with her purse, to the police officer stationed at the entrance and walked through the metal detector. The cop nodded as her personal items rolled back to her via a conveyor belt. She then quickly made her way to the kitchen where she witnessed her fellow employees formed in a line. In front of the crowd was Brent, their arrogant supervisor, strutting like a peacock with his ubiquitous clipboard in hand.

"Miss Lowry, so good of you join us," he scoffed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she muttered as she took her place at the end of the line.

"Okay people, we've got a big night tonight. Your performances tonight must be flawless. There is absolutely no room for error. We've been over the drill a dozen times, so I'm not going to repeat it again; by now, you should know it backwards and forwards."

As Brent continued in his familiar snide tone, it was becoming more difficult for Kate to hide her resentment. He always behaved with an air of superiority about him which disgusted her to no end. She always seemed to have the misfortune of having to tolerate people who embodied everything she despised about humanity. Because of this, she limited her personal interactions only to instances when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, work was one of those necessary times. She tried to focus on what Brent was saying, but her exasperation was building, and she was becoming more and more detached from her surroundings with each minute. She knew she should be paying attention to the jerk's instructions, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to run away and never come back. If only she could, if only life were simple. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and couldn't help but wish she was someone else.

Her life had never been charmed. Although she had a youthful look about her, she had always felt older than her years, which could be attributed to her painful upbringing. The only child of drug-addicted parents, she was introduced to hardship at a tender age. More often than not, she was glad that she was an only child, for she would not want another to endure her unenviable circumstances. Nevertheless, she sometimes wished she had a sibling. As an adult, she was unable to recall many details of her formative years. She often wondered if perhaps her mind subconsciously obstructed certain memories as a sort of defense mechanism.

She did remember being well-acquainted with two feelings in particular: loneliness and hunger. Her parents would frequently leave her at home unattended while they ventured out to score their next fix. She remembered falling asleep with an empty stomach more often than not. The family survived mostly off of meager government assistance payments, as neither parent was ever steadily employed. Her father never had a knack for paying the rent, so they found themselves homeless from time to time. They had relocated so frequently that Kate lost count by the time she reached her teens. She had attended virtually every primary school in Gotham, and thus was unable, or perhaps unwilling, to forge any lasting friendships.

Shortly after her thirteenth birthday, her family became indigent yet again. After her father was arrested on a drug possession charge, both parents were deemed unfit, and their daughter was removed from their residence. They were given countless opportunities to regain custody of their daughter, the only conditions being that they find suitable housing and prove parental competency at one of her custody hearings. She was continually disappointed, as neither her father nor her mother ever showed up to even one of the hearings. She probably shouldn't have expected anything more from them, given their history, but she still clung to the desperate hope that they would straighten out their lives and come back for her one day. She remained a ward of the state until the age of eighteen. For those five long years, she had lived in over ten different foster homes. Some of them were hardly a step above that of a few of her parents' former dwellings. Whether or not they were materially comfortable was irrelevant; none of them had ever felt like a home to her.

As it turned out, the transition from childhood to adulthood did not go as smoothly as Kate had hoped. She had performed well in school, earning A's and B's for the most part, but her academic achievements were not impressive enough to earn her a full college scholarship, something someone in her position needed in order to obtain a quality education. She had never participated in any extracurricular activities because of her fierce introversion. One of her teachers attempted to encourage her to take a more proactive approach to her education, but she found the attempt insincere, and she never found the motivation to put forth the extra effort that was required. The bottom line was, in her mind, if her own parents neither loved nor believed in her, she could hardly do so herself.

It was during Kate's senior year when a dark cloud appeared on Gotham's horizon. He was known only as the Joker, and he was an entirely different breed of criminal, the likes of which the city had not seen before and hopefully would never bear witness to again. He thrived on chaos, reveled in insanity, killed indiscriminately, and left a trail of horror and destruction in his wake. Thankfully the mad clown's reign of terror was brief, brought to an end by Batman, Gotham's then revered champion of justice. Just as the city was beginning to heal from the wounds inflicted by the Joker, it was dealt two more devastating blows. Harvey Dent was murdered, and the man responsible was Batman. The city's hero turned on it for reasons that remained unknown even eight years later.

On her eighteenth birthday, Kate was placed in temporary housing until she was able to find a job and an apartment. She graduated from East Gotham High a few months after the handsome young district attorney was killed.

A few months later, the City Assembly unanimously approved the Dent Act, legislation inspired by the courage and heroism of Gotham's fallen son. In essence, the bill bolstered the city's campaign against organized and violent crime. Under the provisions of the act, repeat violent offenders and those with ties to the mob could be lawfully denied parole. As a result of the landmark statute, thousands of dangerous convicts who had previously fallen through the cracks of Gotham's flawed legal system were arrested, given due process, and ultimately imprisoned in the infamous Blackgate Penitentiary. With the island prison filled to maximum capacity and the Joker securely locked away in Arkham Asylum, crime was nearly eradicated. The streets were safer, and the city's inhabitants were able to breathe easy. But as the old adage goes, nothing lasts forever.