Far off in the distance CIA spotted the Land Cruiser roar over the countryside. It jumped and studdered but the engineering kept it on the road with little danger. He was waiting for the renownd nuclear scientest, Dr Pavel to arrive.

"About time", Wilson thought over the roar of the aircraft. The 30-something agent stood tensely with his hands fiddling awkwardly with his belt , flanked by grim-faced men armed with automatic weapons. More soldiers stood near the aircraft ready to efend him if necessary. "Hopefully," he though grimly, "it wouldnt come to that".

Dr Pavel was due to arrive any moment now, and the land cruiser seemed like the right one, when was it they were meant to arrive again? The sounds of the conflict, which had been going on for months now, reminded CIA why Pavel had been so eager to flee the country for a safer, more civilized location. This was no place for a man of his intellect—not anymore. He squirmed, a small man, he found himself intimidated by this middle eartern local, or was it Eastern Europe? In truth he had no idea.

The cruiser squealed to a stop, and the guards hustled a thin Indian man out of the vehicle. The driver beconed to Wilson and he began to walk over.

"Dr. Pavel?" The CIA smiled and held out his hand. "I'm CIA." . He handed a leather briefcase over to the driver of the land cruiser, who accepted it eagerly. The briefcase contained more than enough funds to make this risky delivery worth the driver's while. Suddenly he noticed that Pavel and the guards were not the only ones in the cruiser, he expressed his confusion to the driver with a raised eyebrow.

"He was not alone," the driver replies.

CIA frowned at Dr Pavel, "this wasnt supposed to be in the schedule!" he thought angrily.

"You don't get to bring friends."

"They are not my friends!" the scientist protested. Indeed, he seemed to want to get as far away from the hooded men as possible.

The driver turned back to Wilson and spoke "dont worry, no charge for them".

The CIA observed the prisoners dubiously, there were four men, one of which, he noticed was more thick set than the others, bulging with virility and strength. CIA felt a strange emotion from this one.

"Why would I want them?"

"They were trying to grab your prize," the driver explained, smirking. "They work for the mercenary. For the masked man."

A look of excitement came over CIA 'snondescript, unmemorable features. He gave the prisoners a closer look.

"Bane?" he whispered, excitedly.

The driver nodded.

"Get 'em on board," the Wilson ordered his men, swiftly revising his plans. Clearly this was an opportunity he wasn't about to pass up. He extracted a cell phone from his jacket. "I'll call them in."

Within minutes, they were in the air, flying low over the remote mountains in an attempt to avoid detection. Special Agent Bill Wilson checked on Dr. Pavel, who was safely tucked into a passenger seat, before turning his attention to their prisoners. Wilson was thrilled at the prospect of finally getting some reliable intel on Bane. The notorious man had eluded any form of contact in the entire time he had been active, inspiring curiosity and quite some interest from women and CIA.

Forget Pavel, Bill thought. If I can get the 411 on Bane, that would be quite the feather in my cap. There might even be a promotion in it for me. Maybe a post in Washington or New York. And to get his hands on Bane all to himslef even for a little while... He chose not to call it in, deciding to try his luck on his own.

The hooded men knelt by the cargo door, their wrists cuffed behind them. Special Forces commandoes stood guard over the prisoners. Wilson grabbed the first captive at random. He knew had to act ruthlessly, or he would never find Bane.

He pulled a semiautomatic pistol from beneath his jacket and placed the muzzle against the man's head. The prisoner flinched, but remained silent. He raised his voice so that all three prisoners could hear him even through their hoods.

"The flight plan I just filed with the Agency lists me, my men, and Dr. Pavel here. But only ONE OF YOU."

He waved his piston around for extra emphasis. Nodding at the cargo door he got one of the special agents to open it.

Cold air invaded the cabin as the wind outside howled like a soul in torment. CIA grabbed onto a strap to anchor himself. He nodded at the Special Forces guys, who seized the first prisoner and hung him out the cargo door. The wind tore at his hair and clothing, threatening to yank him out of his fierce grip. Wooded peaks waited thousands of feet below.

"First to talk gets to stay on my aircraft!" CIA yelled.

The man remained silent. Bane's goons were loyal, Wilson would give him that. Though he would like to give him more... Wilson shook himself "I cant think like THAT, I'm CIA". Turning back to the task as hand Wilson smirked as he observed

Time for a little sleight of hand.

He fired his weapon out the door, the sharp report of the gun blasting through the wailing wind.

Maybe that would loosen their tongues, thinking that thier comrade had been killed

"He didn't fly so good," Wilson lied. "Who wants to try next?"

Shifting to the second hooded prisoner. He hung the would-be kidnapper out the door, high above the mountains. The drop was enough to put the fear of God into just about anyone.

"Tell me about Bane!" Wilson demanded. "Why does he wear the mask?"

The Mask! CIA had been fascinated with Banes mask since he first heard of it, what a device, a real feather in Banes cap!

Only the wind answered him.

Frustrated, Wilson placed his gun against the second man's head. He was getting fed up with the prisoners' stubborn refusal to cooperate. Did they think he was just joking around here? He cocked his gun again, but still . . . nothing.

"Lot of loyalty for a hired gun!"

"Or," a new voice interrupted, somehow deeper, and yet high pitched at the same time "maybe he's wondering why someone would shoot a man before throwing him out of an plane." The voice cut through the air like it had been recorded later and poorly dubbed in, Wilson almost doubled over in shock.

The muffled voice came from the third prisoner, who appeared larger and better built than the other two. Muscles bulged beneath his black leather jacket and weathered fatigues. He had the build of a bouncer or professional wrestler, and held his head high despite the hood. CIA Bill Wilson stared in awe at the man for a moment, admiring the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Who is this beast of a man?

"At least you can talk. Who are you?"

Wilson began to lean down.

" It doesn't matter who we are," the voice replied "what matters is are plan."

Wilson stared dumbly in shock as he bagan to slowly remove the bag from the large mercenaries head.

Dark eyes gleamed above an intimidating dark blue mask that concealed the bottom half of the man's face, covering his nose, mouth, and chin. The mask, made of rubber with riveted metal components, was held there in part by a thick vertical strap that bisected the mercenary's brow and hairless cranium. Two rows of coiled steel breathing tubes ran above and below some sort of built-in inhaler that covered the man's mouth. Pipes ran along the edges of the mask to a pair of miniature canisters at the back of his skull. Air hissed as he breathed. Wilson counldnt beath. It was Bane. The Masketta man himself.

"No one cared who I was untill I put on the mask" the man continued, as if unaware of CIA's state of shock and arousal.

Wilson was fascinated by the man, and his breathing equipment. He gestured at it.

"If I pull this off, will you die?"

"It would be extremely painful," Bane answered in a freindly way.

Wilson winced, bad move. It had been extremely insensitive of him to bring it up. Of coursh the apparatus was for breathing. A small man, Bill had to use an inhaler a lot as a child and even now he found the high altitude air troubling. It had been very rude to remind Bane of his disibility.

He began to think of how to break the awkward silence that had descended on the meeting and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"You're a big guy" and immediatly wished he hadnt. Hurt flashed across the mercenaries eyes and Bill almost hit himself. He had meant to refer to the masket mans superior muscles but had ininvertantly implied he had a weight problem. Wilson made to apologise when Bane poke again.

"For you".

It stung. By turning back the last two stakement, Bane had pointed out the diumunitive agents own size issues. AT barely 5'7 he certainly wasnt much to speak about. His awkward attempt to flirt with the mercenary had jepordised the mission, and he resolved to never put his personal feeling ahead again. Looking in the mercenraies eye however, he saw that strange emotion again, that was hard to place? Was it frustration?

"Was being caught part of your plan?" Wilson sneered, announciateing every voul like a curse.

"Of course," Bane replied. "Dr. Pavel refused our offer, in favor of yours. We had to know what he told you."

"Nothing!" the scientist shouted from his seat. He sounded absolutely terrified by Bane's presence, even though the mercenary was safely in custody. Pavel's eyes were wide with fright. He called out frantically, as though he was pleading for his life. "I said nothing!"

CIA had had about enough of this, the plane was getting into turbulance and he had struck out again.

"Well congratulations, you got yourself caught". Wilson felt sorry for the mercenary, but felt he had to do his duty, maybe a bargin might be struck "whats the next step of your master plan?" he taunted.

Bane suddenly froze and looked me right in the eyes, his own burning, was it passion?, slowly rising to his feet.

"Crashing this plane!" With one movement Bane separated his arms, destorying the fragile cufflinks.

"With NO survivors!"

"No, this cant be happening" Wilson screamed mentally, "Im supposed to be in charge here!".

The entire cabin suddenly tilted forward at an almost ninety- degree angle, throwing the CIA and his men off balance. Loose baggage and debris tumbled toward the front of the plane.

The CIA clutched onto a seat to keep from falling, but dead and wounded soldiers plunged through the upended cabin, plummeting past Dr. Pavel, who remained strapped to his seat. The frantic scientist tried to process these unexpected disasters, but things were happening too fast.

Only the masked man seemed prepared for the sudden change in orientation. Falling forward, he wrapped his thick legs around the back of a nearby seat and seized the CIA agent's with both hands.

Bane looked at the agent with angry eyes, but Wilson suddenly realized that he felt safe, very safe in the mercenaries arms.

"Dont drop me, dont drop medont drop me" he screamed incoherently.

Bane have a hearty laugh and placed the man on his back.

"Now is not the time for fear" He said, in his strange, almost english accent. "that comes later".

His agents were meanwhile grabbing ahold of of Dr Pavel and finsihing off CIA's men, Wilson stared in horror at what was happeneing.

"Now, mr-uhhh", Bane looked at Wilson expectantly

"uh, CIA, Im CIA" he responded quickly.

"Mr CIA, did you remember to call it in? How many passengers should there be?"

Wilson deflated, he had been caught out in his lie, in truth he had never called the agency, wanted to have the fether in his cap as a surprise.

"nothing, I said nothing".

"Good, well then, its seems its time to leave", attaching a harness to CIA and Pavel with his free arm.

Bane squeezed Wilsons arm. His eyes twinkled with that same emotion

"The fire rises."

As Bill Wilson soared into the air clutching the muscular man he suddenly recognized the emotion in Banes eye, in truth it was the one in his own. Lust. What awaited him in the maskets hideout he though bretahlessley and arousedly.

FORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOUFORYOU

Wow, I cant belive thats chapter one done already. Im hoping to get chapter two of this great paring done soon. There is a dearth of good CIA/Bane in the DKR fandom

Dont forget to review!