He strode into view like a gladiator entering the coliseum. Everywhere members of the panicked crowd sobbed and shouted as they realized there was no escape. He observed with satisfaction that the television cameras were swinging in his direction. By now, he calculated, the live footage was airing on every channel all over the world.

He hoped Wayne was enjoying the broadcast.

A dead umpire, killed by a chunk of flying debris from the mayor’s box, lay sprawled upon the turf. The man’s headset appeared to have survived and Bane plucked it from the man’s remains. It amused him to use the umpire’s mike.

The panicked crowd grew hushed as Bane took command. He held out his arm for silence and raised the mike to the mouthpiece of his mask.

“Gotham!” he exhorted. “Take control of your city—”

* * *

Feeling as if he’d been shaken but not stirred, Blake squeezed out of his overturned cruiser and crawled onto the shattered asphalt. Flames and smoke still belched up from below. Groaning, he took a moment to assess his physical condition. As nearly as he could tell, he was scraped and bruised all over, but nothing seemed to be broken.

He spit a mouthful of blood onto the charred pavement. His teeth stayed where they were, thank God.

Enough about me, he thought. I need to know what’s happening.

He crawled back toward his vehicle and reached inside the crumpled cabin. Straining, he managed to snag onto the radio. As he did so, a burst of static hurt his ears.

“Foley?” he asked anxiously.

“Jesus, Blake!” Foley answered, sounding hoarse and understandably distraught. “Every cop in the city’s down in those tunnels.”

Except me, Blake thought, and…

“Not every cop.”

Racing against time, he pried his shotgun from inside the cruiser. A battered-looking sedan was cautiously making its way down the broken street. Scrambling to his feet, Blake ran to flag it down.

Gordon’s heart-rate monitor started beeping rapidly. He awoke with a start, jolted from sleep by some sort of commotion outside his room. He had been having a nightmare about Bane and that shoot-out in the sewers.

Groggy and confused, it took him a moment to realize that something very bad was happening— for real. Screams, shouts, and the occasional burst of gunfire came from downstairs, as if the hospital lobby was under attack by persons unknown. The commissioner was gripped by an unsettling case of déjà vu, remembering the time the Joker had attacked this very same hospital to get to Harvey Dent, then blown up an entire wing afterward.

He shoved the disturbing memory aside to focus on the here and now. He had a pretty good idea he knew who was behind this disturbance—and who they were coming for.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. He heard the invaders moving from room to room. Terrified patients screamed and shouted for help. Nurses and orderlies ran and hid. Occasionally there was the sound of a gunshot. Gordon realized that it was only a matter of moments before they found him.