Gotham Nights (Batman4560 & VelvetWhispers)

[VelvetWhispers]

​

The alleyway behind the Ardor smelled of wet concrete and grease, with a faint undertone of the ocean carried by the night breeze. Selina Kyle crouched beside a battered dumpster, her black work shoes dodging the oily puddles that dotted the ground. In her hands was a crumpled napkin cradling a few scraps of seared salmon she'd nicked from the kitchen's waste bin.

"Here, kitty," she murmured, her voice low and warm as she extended the makeshift plate toward the skinny tabby crouched a few feet away. The cat hesitated, its pale green eyes wary, but hunger eventually won. It padded forward, sniffing cautiously before diving in. Selina watched with a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. Her thick dark locks were pulled into a neat ponytail, but a few rebellious wisps always escaped, framing her sharp cheekbones. The dark grey blouse and tailored black skirt of her uniform weren't exactly her style, but they fit the image of a high-end server in one of Gotham's priciest restaurants. The outfit was practical, with just a hint of sophistication—much like Selina herself.

"Kyle!" The shrill bark of her manager's voice shattered the moment. Selina winced, rolling her eyes before glancing over her shoulder. Gary, the perpetually irate and perpetually red-faced manager, was standing in the back doorway, arms crossed over his beer gut ready to burst out of his fancy tux.

"You think you're on break?" he snapped. "Tables aren't gonna serve themselves. Let's go!"

Selina sighed, tossing the napkin into the dumpster as the tabby darted away into the shadows. Rising to her full height, she brushed off her skirt and sauntered toward the doorway.

"You're absolutely right, Gary," she said, flashing a toothy smile that didn't reach her eyes. "The tables aren't going to serve themselves. Maybe you should pitch in and help."

His face turned a deeper shade of crimson, but before he could fire back, she slipped past him into the bustling kitchen, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.

Inside, the air was thick with the aroma of truffle oil, sizzling steaks, and fresh-baked bread. Selina grabbed a tray and headed out to the dining area, where crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over polished mahogany tables and Gotham's elite chattered over overpriced wine.

"You won't believe who just walked in," whispered Carla, one of Selina's colleagues, as she sidled up beside her at the server station. The older woman's heavily lined eyes were wide with excitement.

"Let me guess," Selina said, arching a brow. "The mayor? The DA? Someone from the tabloids?"

"Better," Carla said, practically bouncing on her toes. "Bruce Wayne. Table eight."

Selina's interest piqued despite herself. The so-called Prince of Gotham wasn't exactly a stranger to the Ardor, but his appearances were rare enough to cause a stir.

"Five bucks says he tips at least a hundred," one of the busboys chimed in, sliding into the conversation.

"I'll take that action," Selina said with a smirk. "Rich guys like him… they're all flash, no substance. Fifty bucks says it's twenty percent and not a penny more."

As the others laughed and placed their bets, Selina grabbed her order pad and made her way to table eight. Bruce Wayne sat alone for the moment, a vision of tailored perfection in a midnight-blue suit that likely cost more than her yearly rent. He'd draped his overcoat casually over the back of the chair, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the menu with practiced disinterest.

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne," Selina said, slipping into her professional tone as she approached. "Welcome to the Ardor. Can I start you off with a drink while you wait for the rest of your party?"

Waiting for the Prince of Gotham himself to decide, Selina's mind began to churn. Bruce Wayne. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist. And, if the rumours were true, just as reckless as he was charming. How much of that fortune was tied up in priceless art, antique jewellery, and state-of-the-art security systems?

Selina's lips curled into a sly smile. This place was a goldmine, not just for its obscenely wealthy clientele but for the careless conversations they held over cocktails. Deals, trades, acquisitions—everything the rich deemed too mundane to keep secret, they discussed openly here. Information was power, and Selina had learned to gather it like a magpie collecting shiny trinkets.

And tonight? Tonight, she had plans of her own. The black suit she'd stitched together over the past few weeks was ready for its debut. Inspired by Gotham's own caped crusader, she'd decided it was time to elevate her game. No more petty larceny or picking pockets. It was time to aim higher.

Selina Kyle's mind wandered to Wayne Manor. What secrets—what treasures—lay hidden behind its grand façade? She'd find out soon enough. But first, she had a shift to finish and a part to play. After all, a cat always knows how to bide its time.

"Perhaps some wine?" Selina suggested with a smile. "Any preference on the year, or I could let our sommelier surprise you?"

 

[batman4560]

A black and Grey 1953 black and grey Rolls Royce Silver Shadow pulled to a stop in front of the valet of the Ardor and from the drivers seat out stepped Bruce Wayne. The blue suit, as midnight colored as his favorite cape and cowl set, fit snugly to his body, made by the finest tailor in the city to hide the bulk of muscle he carried around with him on his nightly activities. He stepped up the curb, his black shoes clacking softly as he approached the young valet with chocolate locks.

"Don't scratch her." Bruce winked and gently flung the keys with an underhanded toss into the kids open palm then confidently strode into the building. Soft music and the din of conversations filled the air and a hostess showed Bruce to a table, bringing with them three menus. Slowly, Bruce started to strip off the jacket and revealed the matching vest that almost seemed to be molded to his body while speaking with the hostess about her day.

"Yes, I should have two guests arriving." Bruce lied through his teeth but the smile on his face was so well practiced that it always managed to keep his tone even. As he took his seat the hostess left him and Bruce pulled the menu up to hide his features. Slowly his ice blue eyes peeked over the edge of his menu to continue scanning the room. A few servers and buss boys huddled and spoke off in the distance, the Mayor's son had a date across from him and a handful of rival business men sat around a large table, giving one another cheers for deals closed.

That wasn't what Bruce was there for though. The past six months had been spent watching and whittling away at Rupert Thorne's enforcers and Mafia leaders until they were mostly all ran out of Gotham or too afraid to continue helping Thorne. It was only a matter of time until the corrupt politician was face to face with the Batman of Gotham soon. For now Bruce watched, read the lips of the three men sitting around Rupert.

Suddenly a voice broke his focus. The blue eyed man turned to look at an angel in an apron and his heart stopped in his chest for a moment. Bruce swallowed a lump subtly and let a smile crease over his lips just wide enough to flash a toothy grin at Selina.

"Party?... Oh. It seems I've been stood up. I don't think I'll have to wait." Bruce 'admitted' with a jovial tone to his voice. "..." Bruce started to open his mouth but froze when Selina's lips curled into a sly smile. "Sorry, I drove alone. I can't drink. How about water? But you can ring me up for your most expensive wine and you can have the bottle if you want it. As far as food goes, if you sit with me, I'll trust you to put our order in. What do you say, Miss...?" Bruce suggested and gestured towards the seat across from him that was now empty with his large hand and calloused fingers. "I don't think your boss will mind." He finished with a sharp lift of his brow in question.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Selina leaned her hip against the chair Bruce Wayne had so gallantly offered, levelling him with a slow, pointed raise of her brow. Her lips curved, not quite into a smile but enough to show she was amused—if not impressed. "Well then, Mr. Wayne, you clearly don't know my boss very well."

Before Bruce could reply, a whirlwind of polyester and cologne swept into view. Gary, her overzealous and perpetually irksome manager, appeared out of nowhere like a bad magic trick. With a flourish that only served to irritate her further, he slid a chair behind her, all but shoving her into it.

"Miss Kyle has such a sense of humour," Gary said with a laugh that sounded too loud and too fake to be genuine. He turned to Bruce Wayne, his tone oozing with the kind of obsequiousness reserved for the absurdly wealthy. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to join you. Anything you need tonight, Mr. Wayne, just let me know. Our very best for Gotham's finest."

Before Selina could protest—or perhaps sink her claws into him—Gary spun on his heel and barked orders at the rest of the staff, pointing fingers and directing their attention to Bruce's table like a ringmaster commanding a circus.

"Charming," Selina muttered under her breath, adjusting the apron tied snugly around her waist. She set the smart tablet for ordering down on the table in front of her, pointedly avoiding looking directly at the man now seated across from her. Of course, she couldn't ignore the heat of his gaze, or the way her colleagues across the room were grinning and gesturing at her like a bunch of high schoolers daring her to sit at the popular kid's lunch table.

Finally, she glanced up, locking eyes with him. Bruce Wayne, Gotham's golden boy, sat across from her with that infuriatingly practiced smile. His sharp blue eyes—ice-coloured and far too observant for her liking—watched her intently, framed by the dark lashes that probably had half of Gotham swooning. The midnight blue suit he wore was tailored so well it could've been painted on, and she could see the hint of muscle beneath the fabric. He was too polished, too put-together, like he'd stepped out of a glossy magazine spread rather than the streets of Gotham.

If he was trying to dazzle her, he'd have to do better than a suit and a grin.

"So...Is this what you usually do? Buy your dates Mr Wayne?" she asked, her voice smooth and edged with dry amusement. She tapped a manicured nail against the tablet, tilting her head to watch his reaction. "I'm not interested in your expensive bottle of wine. But thanks for the generous offer." Her inner monologue was less charitable. If she wanted the wine, she'd just help herself—a perk of knowing exactly where the restaurant kept its more illustrious stock.

The corner of her lips twitched upward in a sly smile, though she kept her tone casual, as if the conversation were barely worth her attention. Internally, though, her thoughts flickered with curiosity. She'd heard plenty about the Prince of Gotham, growing up in the city you could hardly avoid it, but now that she was this close, she found herself wanting to peel back the layers of that perfect smile and see what was hiding underneath.

Was it just an act? Or was there more to Bruce Wayne than a trust fund and a handsome face?

Her eyes scanned him again, this time with the precision of a predator. Wealth exuded from him like cologne—subtle but impossible to ignore. Even his cufflinks probably cost more than her monthly rent. And that car? Forget about it. She'd seen luxury in Gotham before, but this was a different tier entirely. She couldn't help but wonder what treasures the Wayne Manor vault might hold.

But no—this wasn't about him. She wouldn't let it be.

"So, let me get this straight," she said, leaning back slightly in her chair. "You want me to believe someone actually stood you up? Or was that just an excuse so you wouldn't look pathetic eating alone?" Her tone was playful but barbed, the kind of banter she knew would catch him off guard. She had no intention of making this easy for him.

Selina's gaze flicked back to the staff who were still watching her, some whispering and others nudging each other. She rolled her eyes before looking back at Bruce, tapping the tablet again. "Let's get one thing straight, Mr. Wayne. I'm here because my boss has a terrible sense of humour. So, what's it going to be? Are you actually ordering something, or are we just going to sit here while the rest of the room pretends not to eavesdrop?"

Despite herself, she felt a flicker of interest in the man across from her. He didn't seem rattled by her sharp tongue or her refusal to play along. If anything, he looked... amused. And while she wasn't about to let him charm her, she couldn't deny that the Prince of Gotham was starting to get under her skin in a way she hadn't anticipated. And he's barely spoke three sentences to her.

Not that she'd let him know that.

 

[batman4560]

Bruce felt his nostrils flare when the overwhelming scent of something cheap hit his nose. The blue eyed man's eyes welled with water but his attention turned to the manager swiftly swinging over to check on Bruce, the man's ears were in better shape than his belly... While the manager slid a chair into Selina, Bruce seemed to move as if protesting the action but stopped when Gary continued on about how Selina would be happy to dine with him.

"Really, Gary... please. That's not needed." Bruce went on to speak while Gary insisted on giving Bruce the finest in the building. Bruce hated the way that people around him seemed to just give the man everything. He could already afford things that was needed and didn't like to have his ass kissed, people like Selina on the other hand who seemed to challenge Bruce made him excited to get out in the city. People like Gary were the reason Bruce rarely entered it and stayed to his secluded manor more often than not.

"What a tool. Most people don't know they can do better than a place like this." Bruce shook his head, tisking the way Gary treated his staff. Slowly he drank from a glass of water that had been filled as he sat down and turned his attention to Selina who just seemed to be looking up. He didn't know the woman looking at him, but the strands dark locks that farmed her face drew attention to her stunning and intense gaze and made Bruce feel smaller, like she could see right through the act he put on for the city and those who inhabited it.

"Well... when you think about it, unless everything is paid for with an even split, someone always pays for a date. But if you're asking if I just ask people to join me while they are at work. No. I don't normally do this." Bruce's confident smile never wavered but his shoulders slouched a little as if trying to relax around the woman. His gaze only darted to the tablet she tapped once and still from the corner of his eye, Bruce watched Rupert intently, reading the man's lips and committing his conversation to memory but Selina's mere presence almost ironically made it difficult for Bruce to concentrate on the task he arrived for to do.

"Ah, I understand. Don't tell anyone, but I don't drink either." Bruce spoke but his smile almost wavered at Selina's next question. He couldn't help but lean closer, seemingly interested by the way Selina posed her question.

"If you want to know the truth, I'm an undercover agent for the F.B.I. and I'm spying on Rupert Thorne and Roland Dagget since they seem to be the only big time mafia heads in Gotham. My bosses want to know their next moves so I've been watching Thorne while my partner watches Dagget. The dinner was my cover and I did get stood up so I'm hoping you can help make it look like I'm blending in... as best as Bruce Wayne can.... But I'm not really worried about looking pathetic either. I've had drinks thrown in my face during very public speeches. Eating alone wouldn't be the worst of looks given my history."

"Ah, yeah I could eat. But only if you don't think I'll look pathetic?" Bruce reached out to take the tablet, zipping through the menu to order a salmon with steamed sprouts and white rice, then slid the tablet back to Selina. She had thrown him for a moment when she started to question him, but Bruce was quick to adapt and roll with punches.

"Please, call me Bruce. I really dislike Mr. Wayne, it makes me seem like a professor or doctor and those are two hats I don't wear." Bruce chuckled but tapped the screen in front of Selina. "Please, order something. I know places like this don't give free meals to the employee's. If you are going to be miserable, you may as well be well fed as well."

Bruce gave Selina a knowing look and then flickered over towards the staff watching them. gently his fingers raised to give them group a wave then he turned his attention back to the woman sitting across from him. "Someone as sharp tongued as you doesn't work here normally. It can't be the tips, so... what's your story?"

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Selina tilted her head, dark lashes fanning over her cheekbones as she watched the exchange between Bruce Wayne and Gary—Monsieur Mortimer, as he insisted on being called. The way Bruce casually called him Gary was either a power play or familiarity, but either way, it was amusing. Selina only called him Gary to needle him, to watch that practiced façade crack when someone dared remind him of his roots as a fry cook in Blüdhaven. She leaned against the chair as if Gary wasn't there, though she made a mental note of Bruce's almost protective flinch when the chair was slid under her.

Her lips quirked upward when Bruce dismissed Gary's obsequiousness with a dry "What a tool. Most people don't know they can do better than a place like this."

Selina's amusement faltered.

"Most people can't do better, Mr. Wayne." Her voice was velvet with an edge of steel. "Some of us have bills to pay. A place like the Ardor—" she gestured around the meticulously decorated restaurant, its polished silverware catching the dim light— "is a pretty big deal for those of us not born into... well, whatever castle you crawled out of. For the record, Gary brags about working here like it's the Ritz."

She couldn't believe she was defending Gary Mortimer.

She caught the flicker of discomfort in Bruce's expression and let him off the hook with a shrug. "It's not your fault you don't spend much time outside the rich boy's club bubble. But I'll give you credit—you don't seem as insufferable as I expected."

Her posture eased back into languid disinterest, though she listened keenly as he spoke. She noted his slouched shoulders, the practiced ease of his words, and the way his eyes darted—not nervously, but calculatingly—toward Rupert Thorne.

Strange...

Selina's brows raised ever so slightly when Bruce grabbed the tablet and ordered salmon, white rice, and sprouts like he owned the place. She eyed the device as he slid it back to her, considering her options. Why not? It wasn't every day she got to watch Monsieur Mortimer trip over himself to serve her hand and foot. Besides, it'd give the staff plenty to gossip about once the shift ended. Selina flipped the tablet to face her with the tips of her fingers and tapped the same order, making a mental note to exaggerate the details later for laughs.

When Bruce launched into his absurd FBI cover story, Selina couldn't help it—she burst into laughter. Low and throaty, the sound was genuine and completely unrestrained. "Oh, that's good. An undercover agent? And here I thought you were just another bored trust fund baby playing dress-up." Her grin lingered as she leaned in slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me guess, you're wearing a wire right now? Careful, I might spill state secrets."

When he asked her about her story, Selina leaned forward with no real intention of revealing anything about herself, her expression conspiratorial. "Since we're playing pretend," she began in a dramatic whisper, "I'm a thief. I work here as a cover so I can rob all these people blind. The earrings on the woman at table five? Cartier. That diamond bracelet? Real, by the way. And Rupert Thorne? Let's just say his bank accounts will be a little lighter by the time I'm done."

She leaned back with a smirk, watching his reaction. Of course, he'd never believe her, but that didn't make it any less amusing.

"Speaking of Thorne," she continued, her tone casual but pointed, "I wouldn't worry about him for too long. Word around the grapevine is that his days as Gotham's big shot are numbered."

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she considered the work ahead. Thorne's attempts to gentrify the East End weren't just business—they were personal. Personal to her. The people there weren't just neighbours; they were her people. His plan to bulldoze the history, culture, and lives of those who made the East End their home lit a fire in her that no amount of diamonds could quench.

Selina lived in Gotham's East End, a gritty, crime-ridden area filled with struggling families, small businesses, and a strong sense of community despite its challenges. This neighbourhood was where she grew up, survived her toughest years, and honed her skills as...well as many things. For Selina, the East End wasn't just where she lived—it was her home, her sanctuary, and a place she protected fiercely and would continue to do so.

And this was precisely why in the weeks past Rupert Thorne had found himself on her bad side. Thorne saw the East End as prime real estate for a new luxury development project. His plan was to demolish the area's historic buildings and replace them with high-end apartments, shopping centres, and entertainment venues. His goal wasn't just profit but also to eliminate the haven for lower-income residents and petty criminals who could oppose his power in Gotham's underworld.

To make this happen, Thorne used a combination of legal and illegal methods to push his project forward. Buying out officials, he bribed city council members, zoning board officials, and judges to fast-track permits, rezoning the neighbourhood, and shutting down any legal opposition from residents. Then there was the evictions and harassment. Thorne hired thugs to intimidate tenants, sabotage small businesses, and force residents out of their homes by illegal means like cutting off utilities, vandalism, and even arson disguised as "accidents." As well as false charges and framing using his influence, Thorne fabricated charges against community leaders, activists, and anyone opposing him. He also spread false rumours about the neighbourhood being a hub for dangerous criminal activity to justify police crackdowns. And not to forget the destruction of heritage sites. Thorne targeted historic landmarks in the neighbourhood for demolition, erasing the cultural significance of the area. This included a church, an old theatre, and even the orphanage where Selina spent part of her youth.

Selina initially notices subtle changes. People she knew, like a family-run diner owner and a local shelter manager, suddenly left under mysterious circumstances. A favourite corner shop of hers was boarded up overnight without explanation. Her own apartment building was cited for vague "safety violations," and tenants were threatened with eviction. Over her dead body was she leaving her place. Of course a curious kitty like herself had to find out what was happening. So she began her own investigation some weeks ago and it was then she uncovered Thorne's web of corruption and his ruthless plans for East End. What enraged her the most was that Thorne's project didn't just target her home—it preyed on vulnerable people who couldn't fight back.

Naturally her retaliation was swift. Her response was calculated, creative, and devastating for Thorne. She began by using her influence with Gotham's underworld to rally local gangs and community members to protect the neighbourhood. She also ensured Thorne's hired thugs were dealt with swiftly, using her agility and cunning to humiliate them. It was easier than she expected and there strangely didn't seem to be that many. But she wasn't in a position to question her good fortune.

Next there was the infiltration and sabotage of the construction sites. Destroying equipment, leaving incriminating evidence of unsafe practices, and caused delays that cost him millions. The memory of that night a few weeks ago bought a small smile to Selina's lips.

The clang of metal had echoed through the half-finished skeleton of the building, but Selina moved like a shadow, her footsteps silent against the steel beams. Her gloved hands had worked quickly, slicing through power cables and planting small charges along the foundation, each movement a deliberate act of rebellion. The air had smelled of sawdust and fresh concrete, but in her mind, it reeked of greed and corruption. It wasn't just a construction site—it was an insult, a threat to everything the East End stood for. As she had crouched behind a pile of lumber, watching the oblivious guards pace beneath her, a grin had tugged at the corner of her mouth. They had no idea who they were up against. She had left her mark where it would sting the most: clawed gouges in the foreman's desk, a blueprint shredded to ribbons, and a taunting note: "Better luck next time, Thorne. – C." When the first sparks of chaos had erupted—machinery grinding to a halt, alarms screaming into the night—Selina had slipped away, her heart pounding with righteous satisfaction. That night wasn't just sabotage; it had been justice delivered with a cat's elegant precision.

Tonight, she'd remind Rupert Thorne exactly who he was dealing with. The new suit was ready, the plan in place. She'd break into his penthouse mansion, make off with a few personal trophies, as well as those all important documents proving his illegal activities—like bribes, intimidation tactics, and connections to organized crime. She would anonymously leak these to the press and Gotham's few honest officials to expose him to Gotham and the world and leave a message that even he couldn't ignore.

Selina's gaze flicked back to Bruce, her smirk returning. For now, though, she had a billionaire to humour and salmon to enjoy. Let the rest of the night take care of itself.

 

[batman4560]

From the edge of Bruce's vision he could see Selina eating up the way he spoke to the rotund Manager, but when her smile wavered Bruce had reconsidered the way his words spilled from his lips. "I'm sorry... that sounded callous and I didn't mean for it to." Bruce lifted his hands palms out as if asking for mercy but didn't try to explain himself further. He was starting to get the feeling that Selina was the type that knew actions spoke louder than words.

"But I'll give you credit—you don't seem as insufferable as I expected."

"That might be the most genuinely honest thing anyone has ever said to me." Bruce shot back with a relaxed grin.

Selina's honest laugh sent a chill down Bruce's spine, making him start to actually enjoy the company of Selina and forget about Thorne, if even for a moment. As rich as her laugh was, the story of being a thief was richer. That was until she started to rattle off fake and real jewelry around the dining room. While he wasn't sure if she was actually a thief, she knew her stuff enough that Bruce leaned in to playfully warn her.

The dark haired beauty seemed to have other plans however and continued spilling the beans on Thorne to a degree. IF she were a real thief then it wouldn't be too long before Bruce heard about it from Thorne himself, the blow hard had difficulty containing his anger when there was someone around to listen.

"Careful, Miss Kyle... You're telling all your dirty secrets to the wire in my watch" Bruce chimed in, tapping the simple black strapped watch on his left wrist. But if Bruce knew the extent of how honest the cat burglar was being and what she knew about Thorne and his operations, the billionaire would have been asking her to help him bring the mobster to justice.

The food had arrived just as Selina's smile returned to her beautiful features and Bruce sat back to accept the food being passed around by Monsieur Mortimer.

"Do you need anything else Mr. Wayne? Miss Kyle is being a good host?"

Bruce pursed his lips for a moment in thought then held a finger up while taking a sip of water.

"I'm told this place is as popular as the Ritz, I'd like to own something like that. Think about how much it might be worth to you? I'd be happy to pay twice that. Mind you I still want you to run the day to day here. I don't know the first thing about this stuff." Bruce stated as he set the glass of water down and gave Selina a playful wink, his tone as serious as it had been when he spoke about being a spy.

Monsieur Mortimer blushed a deep red at the thought and waved Bruce off like he were joking. "Such a joker Mr. Wayne! Ha-hahhaahhaaha! ... Well if you don't need anything else, I'll be on my way to attend to a few other guests." Mortimer excused himself and started to usher the other servers and buss boys about, leaving the pair to enjoy their meals.

Silently Bruce dug into the salmon and savored the rich taste and let it melt in his mouth with each soft chew.

"Mmmm... Okay, I was joking about wanting to own this place before but now I really do." Bruce let lose a soft chuckle under his breath but his gaze shifted for a moment as Thorne shook a few hands and stood from his table, then headed out the front door. Bruce got what he wanted though, it seemed like his two lieutenants were going to be out trying to steal some guns from Dagget, an anonymous tip would take care of both of them. If Batman were going to pay Rupert a visit, it would be tonight.

All he had to do now was wait and enjoy the meal.

"So, master thief, if I were looking for the best hang out in the city that didn't involve big crowds of people. A place I could lay low at.. Where would you send me?"

 

[VelvetWhispers]

"That might be the most genuinely honest thing anyone has ever said to me," Bruce quipped, his grin relaxed, even a little self-deprecating.

Selina raised her glass of water with a slow smile, her eyes glittering with amusement.

She let the smile linger as he continued. There was something oddly charming about the way he spoke, as though he couldn't quite decide if he was trying to impress her or just wanted to see how far she'd let him go before calling him out. Then he tapped his watch, mentioning a wire with such casual humour that her gaze flickered down to the timepiece. It wasn't what she'd expected. Not a flashy Rolex or a custom Patek Philippe, but something plain, functional, and practical—an almost startling departure from the rest of his outfit, which screamed money from the tailored jacket to the subtle stitching on his shirt. For a split second, she considered the possibility that he might actually be wired. Stranger things had happened.

Selina's smirk deepened as she leaned back. "Don't worry. I have no intention of getting caught. Professional courtesy and all that." Her tone was light, teasing, as though she were playing along with his joke—which, of course, she was. Bruce Wayne didn't need to know just how much truth she'd slipped into their conversation. Not now, not ever.

When Gary Mortimer returned, Selina shifted her attention back to Bruce, who was already leaning into his next act. "I'd like to own something like that," he mused, his tone serious. "Think about how much it might be worth to you? I'd be happy to pay twice that." He finished with a playful wink in her direction.

Selina barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The offer—delivered with the gravitas of a man discussing stock acquisitions—was so ridiculous it bordered on endearing. "You're just a bit of a dork, aren't you?" she thought, biting back a laugh. And yet, there was something oddly sweet about his attempt to amend his earlier blunder. She was starting to like him. Just a little. Against her better judgment.

When the food arrived, Selina watched as Bruce dug in with genuine enthusiasm, savouring every bite like a man who rarely allowed himself to enjoy simple pleasures. She, on the other hand, picked at her meal, taking only a few bites. Her appetite was elsewhere. As she observed him, she found herself wondering how he'd managed to talk her into this dinner. Bruce Wayne was the kind of man people—especially women—threw themselves at. Some would probably sell a kidney just to sit across from him at a place like this. She'd never thought she'd be the one. She'd never wanted to be the one.

What she wanted from Bruce Wayne was locked behind gates, walls, and endless layers of top-notch security.

When Bruce mentioned how much he was enjoying the food, Selina smiled, but her attention had already drifted to Rupert Thorne. She noticed him standing, shaking hands, and leaving the dining room with his usual entourage. Her pulse quickened. It was showtime.

She leaned across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Bruce's watch, her touch almost entitled as she tilted it to check the time. "Oh, sweetie," she said with a smirk, "I don't think 'lay low' and 'you' could ever work together." Answering but not really answering his last question to her.

Before he could respond, she stood, pulling a small wad of cash from the back pocket of her skirt and dropping it onto the table. "My shift's over," she said breezily. "Don't tip a penny more than twenty percent. I have a bet to win." She winked.

With that, she disappeared into the back, the perfect timing of Thorne's exit feeling like a sign. In the kitchen, her co-workers swarmed her with questions, hungry for gossip. She laughed and waved them off. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Right now, I've got somewhere to be." They were disappointed for the time being but they'd survive a few hours.

---

The view from Rupert Thorne's penthouse was breath-taking. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping panorama of Gotham at night, its skyline a jagged symphony of lights and shadows. Selina stood in the centre of his home office, dressed for the occasion in her new suit. The sleek black material hugged her frame like a second skin, the mildly high-tech fabric catching the faint glow of the city lights. Her stiletto boots rose to mid-thigh, sharp and imposing, and a coiled whip hung from her waist. The cowl—newly designed—with little cat ears fit snugly over her head, though it had been a pain to wrestle her hair into it. A slash of bright red lipstick completed the look, a bold contrast to her usual civilian guise.

Selina moved through the office with practiced ease, her steps silent on the polished floors. She'd entered the penthouse with almost laughable simplicity—Thorne's security, while expensive, was no match for her skills. Now, she stood at his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as she hacked into his personal accounts. Numbers flashed across the screen, and she smiled as she watched his wealth trickle away into a series of untraceable accounts. When she was finished, she straightened, her gaze drifting to the safe on the far wall. That, too, would be child's play.

But for a moment, she paused, turning to take in the city spread out before her. Gotham was beautiful at night, its darkness punctuated by glittering lights, a city of contradictions. Much like her. Much like Bruce Wayne, she supposed swivelling on the fancy office chair for a moment, crossing one leg over the other.

Selina found Bruce Wayne to be an enigma wrapped in paradoxes. He carried himself with the careless arrogance of a man who could buy and sell the world, yet there was something undeniably sincere beneath the polished exterior. Take for example that cheap, unassuming watch on his wrist clashing with his designer ensemble, hinting at layers he kept deliberately hidden. His charm was practiced, almost weaponized, but there were moments—like his awkward attempt to buy the restaurant—that revealed a endearing earnestness she hadn't expected. For all his wealth and power, he didn't seem entirely comfortable in his own skin, and that, more than anything, intrigued her.

Selina shook off the thought and returned to her task. The safe opened with a satisfying click, revealing a collection of cash, jewels, and documents that would make Thorne's life significantly more complicated once she leaked them to the right people. She worked quickly, gathering her spoils with efficient precision into a briefcase from his office.

As she finished, she allowed herself one last glance at the view. Then, with a smirk, she scrawled across the glass walls with the magnificent diamond claws on her gloves, "This belongs to the East End now."

She slipped out as easily as she'd come, leaving nothing but an empty safe, a drained bank account, and the promise of chaos in her wake as she casually, gracefully and silently, like a shadow slipped through the sprawling corridors of Thorne's opulent mansion, her suitcase of pilfered treasures gripped in one hand and her whip still coiled snugly at her hip. The silence was intoxicating, broken only by the muffled hum of distant city life outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her boots barely whispered against the polished floors as she navigated the maze of darkened rooms, pausing occasionally to admire her handiwork—priceless artefacts and a small fortune in cash secured with the finesse only she could manage. She had almost made it to the service exit when a sharp sound—a muffled cough—sent a chill down her spine.

She froze, heart quickening, as a flashlight beam danced against the far wall.

"Well, well," a gruff voice sneered. "Looks like the boss was right to keep an eye out for visitors."

Three of Thorne's muscle-bound thugs stepped into view, each one armed, their postures radiating smug confidence. Selina let out an exasperated sigh, her gloved fingers tightening around the handle of the suitcase.

"Boys," she drawled, cocking her head, "don't you know it's rude to sneak up on a lady? Though... I suppose subtlety isn't in your job description."

The nearest thug stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Drop the case and maybe we'll go easy on ya."

"Oh, sweetie," Selina said with a sly smile, setting the suitcase gently on the ground. "You should've just said please."

Before he could blink, she lashed out, her whip unfurling like lightning. The sharp crack echoed through the hall as the weapon coiled around his wrist. With a sharp tug, she yanked him forward, sending him sprawling face-first into the floor.

The second thug lunged, but Selina spun on her heel, her booted leg arcing gracefully through the air. The sharp stiletto of her heel connected with his jaw, and he crumpled with a grunt, his flashlight clattering to the ground.

"Two down," she purred, stepping over the first thug as he groaned in pain.

The third hesitated, his eyes darting between his fallen comrades and the whip that Selina now held at the ready.

"Smart move," she said with a wink, "but you're a little late for second thoughts."

He raised his fists and charged, forcing Selina to duck beneath his wild swing. She surged up behind him, landing a sharp elbow to his kidney before twisting the whip around his legs. With a sharp pull, she sent him tumbling backward onto the floor.

As he struggled to rise, Selina planted a boot firmly on his chest, leaning down with a wicked grin.

"Tell your boss," she said, tapping his nose with the sparkling tip of a diamond claw, "that his security needs some serious work."

She picked up her suitcase, brushing imaginary dust off her sleek suit, and strode toward the exit. Behind her, the thugs groaned in a disorganized heap.

"Thanks for the warm-up, boys," she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Next time, try harder to keep up."

Shit.

It was locked.

 

[batman4560]

Bruce could catch the sly smile on Selina's face while he opened up a bit and revealed some more of his real self.

"Well, I won't tell my bosses. But just this once. Besides, if you're planning on taking from Thorne, it's for a good cause." Bruce chuckled and took a sip of water.

By the time the food arrived, and Bruce was savoring every bite he couldn't help but notice that Selina was barely picking at her food. He wondered if she had ate already or if she were that uncomfortable around him? "If she's been faking her emotions and expressions, then Selina is better at acting than I am reading people." Bruce thought to himself.

Shortly after, while Bruce was trying to figure out where to hang out, Selina's hands slid along his arm and a deep blush colored his cheeks and neck at the sudden contact. Bruce's cold blue eyes dilated and he struggled to keep his jaw from going slack while she smoothly avoided his question with a whip sharp comment.

He couldn't help but watch as Selina put a wad of cash on the table and excused herself. A soft thud rapidly pounded against his chest as his heart raced. "Goodnight..." Bruce spoke while waving and trying to refocus himself. Casually Bruce glanced at the wad of cash on the table and knew better than to insult the woman by making sure she got that cash back. Without saying anything Bruce looked about for the staff that had been watching Bruce and Selina and waited until they were all out in the open again.

While he waited, Bruce grabbed his phone and made a quick call. "... Alfred, I'd like to buy a restaurant but as discretely as possible..." Soon after he put his phone down and got up to meet up with the group of workers. "Excuse me, you're all friends with Miss Kyle?" Bruce asked while reaching to his wallet to fish out a small wad of cash. "I hear she has a standing bet with you. Seems to be about tipping. Here..." Bruce passed out one hundred dollars to each of the servers and buss boys. "For each of you on the condition that you tell Selina she won the bet and pay her for winning."

With that Bruce spun on his heels and strode out of the building to get his car and return home on the edge of the city limits...

---

Deep below Wayne Manor, heavy boots clacked against sharp stone towards a black muscle car that had long fins on the side of the machine that swept back, the hood of the car molded to look like the head of a bat diving through the air. "Sir, are you sure I can't convince you to stay in and watch a movie tonight instead?" A dry thick British accent echoed from the stairwell at the edge of the cave.

"No, we've come this far. Only two major mobsters are left in the city. Thorne's weak and just a little pressure might cause him to snap and go down." A gruff voice spoke, an octave deeper than Bruce's but silent, somehow traveling across the cave even without an echo as if it were coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Suddenly the masked figure was in the car and peeling off down a strip of runway that led out of a waterfall...

---

From the tallest of building's in Gotham, the Batman leap't far and used his cape to close gaps as he zeroed in on Rupert's Penthouse. Coming to a stop, Batman looked out over a four lane street, one of the few in Gotham, and one that split every building from Rupert Thorne's property. The man in the midnight blue mask slid a small slide down on the side of his mask to lower a set of lenses over his eyes. They started to glow a dim white and gave off blips of heat inside of Rupert's building. Slowly he reached to his belt and pulled out a two cylinder machine that seemed to be stacked atop one another. Carefully he lifted the tool and aimed it so that he was holding it above his head and between the roof access of the building he was atop and the top floor of Rupert's building.

His midnight blue gloved finger compressed atop a button and activated the device...

steel cables connected to what looked like spear tips launched forward and backwards. One sank deep into the wall behind the Caped Crusader, another lanced across the streets and sank into the wall of Thorne's building. The Batman hooked held the tool tight and jumped up and forward, throwing his legs forward to carry him silently across the streets towards the mobster's home.

With a flick of his right wrist, Batman sank his gauntleted forearm into the brick of the building and scaled to the roof in a blur of shadow. Atop it he moved to a power box to shut off the security.... "It's already been disabled?" Batman thought as he inspected the line. As suspicious as it was, Batman realized he needed to act as fast as possible and made his way back the way he came.

It was simple enough to scale back the way he came and slip into the building through a window. The dim glow of his masked eyes allowed Batman to gaze upon the inside of the room he was in. It seemed to be Thorne's meeting room, a long table reached from one end of the room to the other, four sturdy leather chairs on either side and one at the head.

He stalked across the floor, the cape he wore dragging around his body as silent as the dead. From what Batman could tell, with the swift scan his heat sensors allowed him, there were nine other people on this floor and ten more below. Thorne's room was on the far left of the room Batman was leaving but as he stepped out of the room something cracked like a gunshot down the hall. Batman's head ducked and the sound of a scuffle came from his right, and to his left a series of foot falls started to shuffle towards his direction. "... Damn it.." He growled to himself. "There's no way...." He pondered.

Just as Batman started to rise again, four men rounded the corner of the tightly cramped hall, two of them stood shoulder to shoulder at the front. The Dark Knight set his jaw firmly and glared at the goons. One in the back spoke up first. "Hey, boss wasn't fucking around. The Bat is real." The guy in the front swiftly but in. "Doesn't matter, its just a guy. Let's shoot him dead."

As the guards started to draw, Batman let right arm sling forward while his fingers reached into his guantlet and drew out three thin bat shaped throwing blades and flung them with deadly precision through the air to thud into the barrels of three guns. The two in the back fired, and reeled as their weapons backfired in their hands and drove them down to the floor in a heap of pain.

One threw his gun aside and together the two in the front charged the Caped Crusader and ran him down the hall, all of them tumbling into the same room a woman in a dark catsuit was in with a case and three downed men...

The Batman lifted his left arm and drove his elbow down hard into the temple of one man, knocking him out in one shot, then he and the last man standing pulled away from one another and stood up. Batman waited for a moment and let the guard make the first move, rushing in his black suit at the Bat with a wildly over extended punch that the Dark Knight easily ducked. His left hand came up and caught the guard's wrist. He yanked the goon's arm down at the same time he rose and threw his armored leg up to break the guard's arm. Just as he started to scream, Batman used his leather gloved hand to muffle the sound. Squeezing the goon's jaw and turning, Batman spun the man around and drove his face into the frame of the door and knocked him out.

As he finished his turn, Batman's cape settled around his body, masking his frame from view while his sight landed on Catwoman. The otherworldly glow of his masked eyes was the only light in the room. She stood with her back to him, hand against a doorknob that appeared to be locked. The only way for her to go was through him, but the Batman had no idea who she was...

His pointy eared head cantered to the side in confusion. Guns, he expected, cheap suits and funny accents too. But not once had he seen someone dressed like him, nor anyone with a whip and the only people in heels that high he saw were secretaries who were afraid for their lives. Yet before the Guardian of Gotham, a stunning woman in a sleek bodysuit modeled after a cat, with a whip slung against her hip was standing, case in hand. Down the hall the Batman came from, he could hear more men moving, likely the ones from downstairs who had heard the whip crack and guns backfiring.

"Can you get that door open?" Batman asked, knowing that if he had to fight his way out of Thorne's home, then the number of his forces might wear Batman down enough to be dangerous, he decided if the thief could get out of the exit and back towards the roof, then he could see what she took, maybe this wouldn't be a bust in that case.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Selina's gloved hand tightened around the doorknob as she tugged it again, frustration flashing through her. Locked. Of course. It was always locked. She cursed herself silently, already calculating the quickest way to slip past Thorne's goons when she heard the unmistakable sounds of chaos just down the hall. The sharp crack of a gun misfiring, the heavy thud of bodies hitting the floor, and—was that an elbow breaking someone's jaw?

She turned her head, her emerald eyes narrowing as she caught sight of movement. The glow of two faintly illuminated eyes hovered like ghostly beacons in the darkness. Selina melted into the shadows of the room, clutching her suitcase and watching intently as a dark figure dealt with the thugs with precision and efficiency that sent a shiver up her spine.

Whoever he was, he wasn't just good—he was art. Every strike, every movement was calculated, efficient, and eerily silent except for the occasional grunt of pain from his unfortunate opponents. When the last thug crumpled to the floor, their face slammed unceremoniously into the doorframe, Selina allowed herself the faintest smirk.

"Not bad," she murmured under her breath.

And then he turned. The glowing eyes landed squarely on her. She straightened, shifting her weight in a subtle show of confidence, even as her mind raced with contingency plans. Her hand drifted lazily to her hip, brushing against her whip, as his deep, gravelly voice cut through the tension.

"Can you get that door open?"

The corners of her lips quirked upward in amusement. "Not exactly what I expected from the infamous Dark Knight," she replied, her tone honeyed and laced with mischief. "But I suppose a little chivalry is refreshing these days."

Selina stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. The sound was deliberate, a rhythm that matched her slow, predatory stride. She circled him like a cat studying an unfamiliar dog—curious, cautious, and endlessly intrigued. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, tracing the hard lines of his jaw beneath the mask, the armored plating of his suit, the way his cape fell like liquid shadow around him.

"Well, well," she purred, her voice taking on a sultry timbre she used only when the game demanded it. "The Batman. I've heard so much about you. Do you know you've got quite the fan club in Gotham's underworld? So many crooks trading stories about their run-ins with you... But seeing you in action? I might just join the club myself."

Her gaze flicked back to the locked door, though she didn't stop circling him. "But I have to wonder... what's a big, bad bat like you doing here, in Rupert Thorne's lovely little nest? Surely you're not here for the same reason I am." She tilted her head, her voice a low purr. "Though I can't imagine you'd look half as good in a catsuit."

She came to a stop directly in front of him, her gloved finger lifting to trail down the edge of his cape, testing his patience, watching for any reaction behind those glowing eyes.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" she mused, her tone still playful but edged with genuine curiosity. "But don't worry—I'm not sticking around to pry into your secrets. Though…" she leaned in slightly, her emerald eyes locking onto his glowing ones, "...you do make a girl wonder."

Before she could press further, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the hallway. Selina's head snapped to the side, her playful expression hardening as she heard the low murmur of voices and the clatter of weapons.

"Well, I hope you're ready to show me what you're made of, handsome," she said, her voice sharpening as she stepped to his side, the whip unfurling from her hip. She cracked it once, the sharp sound reverberating in the room like a warning shot. The approaching footsteps quickened.

Selina let out a low, threatening hiss, her body coiled and ready. "Showtime."

 

[batman4560]

Behind the glow in front of his eyes, the ice like gaze of Batman's noted the swift rate at which the woman went for the weapon on her hip. He noted her claws and the danger that her boots could pose, and in response swallowed a lump and mentally readied himself for a fight.

Without a word, the pair seemed to size one another up. Catwoman stalking around Batman and taking his features in, possibly looking for weaknesses in his suits design, or weapons that he would wear. A part of him admired the way that she seemed to act in a similar way to himself. Thorne's penthouse was the last place Batman expected to find a kindred spirit.

He let the woman circle him, no matter what angle Catwoman attacked from, he would be ready to react and disable her, if a bullet couldn't get through his suit he doubted she was strong enough to punch a hole in it. Stoically, Batman waited for the smaller, athletic woman to stop in front him and test the hem of his cape, feeling the thick fire resistant material that seemed to be weighed down at the edges.

Normally the masked man would have snatched up her wrist and put her in a pair of cuffs. Batman didn't think his morals would ever waver and that he'd treat every criminal the same but the closer the woman got to him, the harder he found it to push her back or step away. She wasn't afraid of him, hell she didn't even seem to be unnerved when she saw him in action. Catwoman's confidence but Batman on the back-foot, and her beauty had forced Batman to remind himself that Catwoman was likely just as bad as everyone else he had clashed with and wouldn't be his ally long.

Catwoman's eyes bore into Batman's glowing gaze until footfalls could be heard closing the distance and the way Catowman's head darted around to Batman's to look down the hall almost caused him to crack a grin of amusement but he managed to keep himself in check. When the woman stepped to the side and drew her whip, Batman stepped forward and towards the door Catwoman was trying to open.

He noted the case but simply grabbed two tools from himself, rounded devices that thudded and stuck to the side of the door where the hinges were, with a red bat splayed across them. He pulled a strip from each of the devices and watched for a moment. While Catwoman's whip cracked, the devices sparked with life and started to work. Casually Batman rejoined Catwoman and grumbled under his breath. "We need to hold out for seventy seconds to get through the steel door."

Batman turned his thermal vision off and raised his hands, settling into a stance that made him as narrow as possible, fists clutching his cape by the edges. As the first goon drew nearer, Batman snapped his right arm out, wrist flicking and sent his capes edge snapping like a chain out into the darkness. The edge of the cape cracked like thunder into the guards nose and sent blood spraying while the goon reeled back into the others, slowing them down when they tried to catch their friend.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Catwoman leaned against the wall, watching the caped crusader attach two curious devices to the door. Her green eyes gleamed with amusement as the red bat symbol flared to life. She tilted her head, lips quirking into a sly smirk as he explained, gruff and straight to the point, "We need to hold out for seventy seconds to get through the steel door."

She chuckled, the sound soft and full of mischief. "Seventy seconds? Sure thing, Batman. I'll keep an eye on my watch," she quipped, though her tone made it clear she had no intention of adhering to any kind of coordinated effort.

Her gaze lingered on him as he turned and prepared to meet the incoming goons. Selina couldn't help but admire his precision—the way he snapped his cape like a whip, sending one thug sprawling into the others. Efficient, calculated, ruthless. Every movement was like a page from a martial arts manual. It was almost... beautiful.

But she wasn't here to fawn over Gotham's brooding hero. As the thugs recovered and charged, Selina's whip unfurled in a graceful arc, the leather hissing through the air before cracking with a satisfying snap against the nearest thug's wrist. He yelped, dropping his crowbar, and Selina was on him in a flash, her briefcase swinging up to clock him under the chin.

"You're going to need better reflexes if you're going to play with the big cats," she purred, watching him slump to the floor.

She moved with feline grace, striking out at the next opponent with a high kick that sent his weapon clattering across the floor. Her whip lashed out again, catching a third thug around the ankle and yanking hard enough to bring him crashing down.

"One down, two down, three down. Do you boys not learn?" she teased, a gleam of delight in her eyes as she advanced.

Despite the chaos, she couldn't help but glance back at Batman. He was fighting on the backfoot now, surrounded by four attackers. His stoic demeanor never wavered, but she could see the strain as he blocked a metal pipe with his gauntlet and sent a goon flying with a kick. For a brief moment, she considered stepping in. Then the thought passed.

"Well, it's been fun," she called, a teasing lilt to her voice as she adjusted her grip on her briefcase and turned away. "But I've got other places to be. Good luck, handsome."

With that, she slipped into the shadows, her departure as silent as her approach. The sounds of the brawl faded behind her as she moved through the opulent penthouse, her steps light and purposeful.

---

Selina's thoughts wandered as she navigated the mansion. Fighting alongside Batman had been novel—almost amusing. He was efficient, relentless, and oddly captivating. But she had no illusions about what might happen if they were alone. He wouldn't see her as an ally, and she had no intention of sticking around to find out what he'd do.

Her musings came to a halt as she found herself standing before a pair of ornate double doors. Light spilled out from the crack beneath them, warm and flickering. Strange, considering she'd taken out the power before beginning her escapade. Her curiosity piqued, she moved closer, her fingers ghosting over the handle.

Slowly, silently, she pushed the door open just enough to peer inside.

The room beyond was grand, almost ostentatious, with a high ceiling and gilded furniture. A roaring fireplace at the far end illuminated the space, casting long shadows over the polished floor. And there, standing with his back to her, was Rupert Thorne himself.

Catwoman's lips curved into a wicked smile. "Well, well," she murmured to herself, slipping inside and shutting the door behind her with a decisive click. The sound made Thorne whip around, his hand instinctively going to the gun at his hip. But she was already gone from the door, moving to the far side of the room.

She placed the briefcase on a side table, her movements deliberate and feline, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she spoke. "Now, now, Rupert. Is that any way to greet a lady?"

His eyes darted around the room, trying to locate her in the shifting shadows. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Oh, don't worry. You'll see me soon enough," she replied, her tone light and playful. She watched him carefully, noting the way his hand tightened on the gun. Dangerous, but not insurmountable. She'd dealt with worse.

Circling him like a predator, she continued, "You've been a very bad boy, Rupert. Running your little empire like a king, stepping on the little people. Tsk, tsk. Someone really ought to teach you a lesson."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he barked, his voice tinged with panic as he turned to try and track her movements.

Selina's laughter was soft and dangerous, a low purr that sent a shiver up his spine. "Let's just say I'm here to settle some debts. You see, I've been busy tonight. Destroyed your little operation piece by piece. And now? Well, now I'm here for the finale."

She stepped into the light at last, her whip coiled in one hand, the other resting on her hip. "Do you feel it, Rupert? That creeping sense of dread? That's justice, darling. And it's long overdue."

Thorne raised his gun, his hand trembling slightly. "You're out of your mind."

Selina's eyes narrowed, her movements deliberate as she began to close the distance between them. "Oh, I'm very much in my mind, sweetheart. And right now, my mind's telling me you need to be punished."

She tensed, ready to strike, her every muscle coiled like a spring. Whatever happened next, she was more than prepared for it. After all, curiosity may have brought her here, but justice? Justice would see her through.

 

[batman4560]

"There is no way she's wearing a watch under that tight suit." Batman thought to himself just before snapping his cape out like a whip to draw first blood on the charging goons who were starting to pull weapons. He could feel Catwoman's gaze holding on the way he moved, and part of him liked the feeling he got from it, the other part of him made Batman want to vanish into the shadows so she couldn't learn more about him.

Suddenly Catwoman was using her whip, stolen case and high heeled boot in a flurry while some guards halted to try and stop her and four rushed past her to attack him. Batman almost rolled his eyes and lifted his forearms to block a heavy pipe only a few inches long. Batman almost grunted from the blow, as it had nearly sent him stumbling back into one of the goons moving in behind him.

Instead, Batman let the blow put him back a pace, planted his left foot and lifted his right to kick the goon that had struck at him with a heavy kick that sent the man flying off his feet and into the edge of a desk, causing him to fold over it and drop, clutching his injury.

Swiftly he side stepped to the right, dodging a knife thrust while Catwoman called out to Batman and started to take off. "..." Batman didn't speak but glanced over his shoulder at the burning metal on the door behind him. "-Sir, it appears there are multiple ways to get where wanted to go before everyone was alerted to your location. Blueprints say that the door behind you will lead there as well, and to an elevator that leads to the roof and subbasement parking garage." A voice rang out in the Caped Crusaders left ear.

Batman spun and sent the back of his fist across the knife swinging goon's jaw then hit two pressure points in his weapon hand to cause the man to drop the knife. As the goon tried to recover, Batman spun behind the man and grabbed him by the back of the head, shoving him into the goon that was just moment's ago to his right. While the two men tried to recover, Batman turned his attention to the last man who looked as if he were going to turn tail and run. "Good idea." Batman growled, the goon nodded and tossed his brass knuckles aside then took off past the men Catwoman had bested and ran for the elevator.

Swiftly drawing two small bat shaped discs from the closest pouch on his belt to his right hand, the Guardian of Gotham moved to the men who had been tangled up together and placed the discs upon their shoulders. A split second passed as Batman turned towards the door that was being melted through, and the goons suddenly jerked around as a current of electricity coursed through them for the last four seconds of the seventy then collapsed on the floor, stunned and disabled.

Without a word the Dark Knight stepped forward and kicked the door as his device finished burning through the metal, and he sent the door crashing to the floor with a heavy thud. Shorty after, like a phantom he began to move across the building, almost teleporting across the penthouse from shadow to shadow. The building was gaudy, as he expected from most mobsters at this point.

---

As Batman finally came to the grand hall and spotted an open door, he heard the throaty laugh of Catwoman echo from the room. Batman started towards the grand door and drew a batarang out of his belt, ready to strike while Thonre shouted at Catwoman.

Just as Rupert seemed poised to fire at Catwoman, Batman stepped boldly into the room and cast a long shadow over Thorne's face. Startled, the man leap't up out of his chair and turned, opening fire while yelling and sweating bullets as rapidly as he fired them.

Batman had raised his arm to toss his weapon but the normally slow moving Thorne was jumpy enough to actually fire and hit Batman in the chest. His body staggered from the blow but his suit absorbed the brunt of the impact, causing the first bullet to fall harmlessly. (Though there would be a bruise for sure.) A second shot rang out like a crack of thunder and lightning. As the muzzle flash of Rupert's revolver showed the fear on Thorne's face, Batman pressed forward, walking into the second shot that hit the left flank of his ribs, then a third hit the same spot, ripping at the armor of Batman's suit enough to compromise it.

Each step Batman took was met with another shot to his chest or abs but the Dark Knight didn't stop moving forward. Swiftly he spun the batarang in his hand and jabbed it into the back of Thorne's gun hand hard enough that the man cried out in agony and dropped his weapon to the floor.

Batman hoisted Thorne up by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground so high that the rotund man held Batman's wrists and kicked weakly to try and pry himself off of Batman. "Police have your last lieutenants in custody. Turn yourself in or I'll be back, and next time you'll have more than a broken foot to worry about." Batman threatened.

Thorne started to question the broken foot but then started to scream when Batman gently set Rupert down and stomped hard on the large man's foot with steel toed boots hard enough to snap the bone with a sickening crunch. Without another word Batman kicked Thorne hard enough to make him roll towards Catwoman and land on his belly.

The cold glare of Batman landed on Catwoman, watching carefully to see if she would try to run or take some sort of revenge on Thorne. He had no idea who the woman was but he wanted to see if she were friend or foe...

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Catwoman lounged by the ornate side table, one hip cocked, twirling her whip lazily. She was halfway through a quip about how Thorne’s tie didn’t match his fear-slicked brow when the sound of heavy, deliberate footfalls cut through the tension like a knife. She knew who it was without looking. That broad, imposing shadow creeping across the room could only belong to one man.

And there he was, stepping into the firelit space like a dark god. Batman.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, but it faltered as Rupert Thorne, jittery as a live wire, spun and fired. For a moment, her sharp gaze flicked to Batman’s chest as the first bullet connected. She didn’t flinch — not outwardly, anyway — but her claws flexed instinctively. Is this guy bulletproof? she mused, watching in grudging admiration as he kept advancing.

When the second and third shots tore at the Bat’s armour, though, her grin returned. “Not so invincible, are you?” she murmured under her breath, though she had to admit, his resolve was impressive. Most men would’ve turned tail by now. Not him. He just kept moving forward, like a predator closing in on its prey.

By the time Batman had disarmed Thorne and hoisted the man up like a sack of potatoes, Catwoman was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, thoroughly entertained. Her sharp green eyes danced with amusement as she watched Thorne’s pathetic attempts to wriggle free.

“You know,” she called, her voice dripping with mockery, “if you’re going to make a grand entrance, at least let the poor man get a word in edgewise before you break all his bones. This isn’t exactly how the rest of us play good cop, bad cop, you know.”

When Batman stomped on Thorne’s foot, the sickening crunch made her wince — but only for a second. “Oof,” she quipped, tilting her head. “And here I thought I was the one with the claws. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Batboy?”

As Thorne rolled towards her, a groaning, blubbering mess of pain and fear, Catwoman’s grin widened. “Why, thank you,” she said sweetly, flicking her whip off the table. “You really shouldn’t have.”

She didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, she cracked her whip, the leather snaking around Thorne’s ankle with a satisfying snap. With a tug that spoke to her wiry strength, she dragged the man across the polished floor, ignoring his pitiful pleas.

By the time she reached the balcony, she could feel the weight of Batman’s gaze on her. That oppressive, glowing glare was impossible to ignore, but she didn’t let it stop her.

“Careful now, big guy,” she called over her shoulder as she dragged Thorne closer to the edge. “I’m not one of your Gotham rogues. I don’t play by your rules, and I definitely don’t share your… quaint little views on justice.”

Thorne clutched at her whip desperately, his nails scratching at the leather as he begged. “Please! I-I’ll give you money, jewels—whatever you want! Just don’t—don’t let go!”

Catwoman leaned down, her face close to his, and smiled. “Oh, sweetie, it’s not about the money. It’s about the principle. You see…” She gestured grandly to the skyline behind her. “This city deserves better than you. Better than the corruption, the greed, the filth you bring to it.”

She straightened, her grip on the whip steady as she pulled him up higher with one clawed hand, pressing him against the edge before, with but the flicker of her wrist she pushed him over that very edge. The sounds of his terrified yelps filling the empty air as he dangled precariously by her whip. “And frankly, I don’t think there’s room for your kind of bad anymore.”

Her heart thrummed as she stood there, the cool night air whipping around her. She could feel Batman’s presence behind her, an unmoving monolith of judgment. His silence was louder than any reprimand he could’ve delivered.

“You know, Batboy,” she said, keeping her voice light but her gaze locked on Thorne, “I get why you don’t do it. Why you let them live, why you play the long game. But me? I’ve never had your patience.”

For a moment, she actually considered it. The whip in her hand, the weight of Thorne’s life dangling in her grip—it would be so easy. One flick of her wrist, and she’d rid Gotham of one more parasite.

Catwoman leaned over Thorne, her whip coiled tightly around his ankle as he continued to dangle dangerously over the balcony's edge. The man whimpered and pleaded, his hands clawing towards the whip as if his desperation alone might save him. She ignored him, her eyes drifting instead to the imposing figure in the shadows behind her.

"Funny thing about you, Bats," she called without turning, her voice light but edged with steel. She jerked the whip slightly for emphasis, and Thorne yelped. "You've got this whole unshakable moral code thing going on, and yet here I am, one flick away from solving a problem you'd never let me finish."

She tugged the whip slightly, making Thorne gasp and kick, and shot Batman a sharp glance over her shoulder. His stance was rigid, that unreadable cowl giving nothing away, but she didn't need to see his expression. She could feel the tension in the air, thick as smoke.

"And that's the problem with you, isn't it? You know, it's always fascinated me," she mused, her grip steady. "You don't compromise. Not even when it's scum like him. Me? I don't have that problem. Some people deserve a little... justice of the higher kind."

Her gaze dropped back to Thorne, and she tilted her head, considering. She wasn't really going to drop him—probably—but the look on Batman's face would be worth the risk. More than that, though, she knew it might buy her a clean exit.

"You know," she said, her voice dropping to a silky purr, "I should let go. Just to see if you'd catch him. Bet you would, wouldn't you? All that brooding honour of yours."

Thorne’s panicked cries filled the air, hands flailing and grasping at nothing, while she barely spared him a glance. Her focus was on the shadow looming behind her. Thorne let out another garbled scream as she shifted her grip slightly, making the whip creak ominously. Catwoman arched a brow, tilting her head back toward Batman. "Careful, Rupert," she teased, "I think all that flailing is just making it worse. Or better, depending on your perspective."

Her smirk widened when she caught the rigid set of Batman’s shoulders. She didn’t need to see his face to know what was going through his mind—disapproval radiated off him like heat.

She leaned closer to Thorne, her voice dropping to a soft, purring whisper. “But you’re lucky tonight, Rupert. I’ve got a guest.”

Straightening, she met Batman’s gaze again, her expression calculating. “Here’s the thing, Bats. I could let him go. You’d catch him, of course. You’re predictable like that. But maybe, just maybe, I need a little leverage to get out of this... awkward situation.”

The whip creaked again as she shifted her weight, her fingers curling tighter around it. Thorne whimpered, his cries turning into incoherent pleading. She ignored him, her attention fixed entirely on Batman.

"So, what’s it gonna be?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous drawl. "Do we negotiate? Or do I find out just how fast you really are?"

And with that, she held her ground, the tension between them crackling like the city lights below. The Dark Knight didn’t move, and neither did she.

For now.

 

[batman4560]

Batman glanced at Catwoman after Thorne had been dumped near her feet and before she thanked him. "I'm not a Cop." He growled at Catwoman while she thanked him for sending Thorne her way.

Without judgement or a word, he silently watched Catwoman drag Thorne over towards the balcony of his own penthouse while the soft glowing fire crackled off to the side, washing the room in a warm glow.

It seemed that the woman was bent on ending Throne, ridding Gotham of a brutal criminal in a way that Bruce had sworn against years ago. His body started to move towards Catwoman but stopped just when it seemed that she was aware he was watching with silent judgement.

The Batman's tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as Thorne was forced into a dangle over the edge, held only by Catwoman's whip and impressive strength. Thorne was as heavy as they came and she seemed capable of maintaining focus on Batman, Thorne and keeping them both on edge at the same time. It was honestly more than remarkable to Batman that she was so capable.

Normally he'd have risked attacking her at this point, but he saw how swift she was first hand, how easily she handled her boots like a deadly weapon instead of a fashion statement. It made him wary. Catwoman was better trained than the other criminals in the city and while he was sure he could take her, he was also sure if he wasn't careful, the woman would get the better of him. She seemed able to get under his cape better than anyone he had encountered before, considering she didn't seem to be uneasy around him.

She spoke with such conviction, but Batman wasn't sure if she meant what she said. There was a taunt to her tone, like she was challenging him to prove her wrong. The statue of a man considered taking the bait but the woman proved too much of an unknown factor to test the waters with a life on the line that wasn't his own. For all it was worth, Thorne kept trying to grasp at the whip, twisting and grunting to the point that Batman was sure that the fat man would cause himself to fall all on his own.

Easily and steadily the Batman's shoulders set and his head tilted as if being ready to move. He could feel his legs tense with energy ready to explode into action at a moment's notice and he became acutely aware that he had two grapple lines that could hook together at the handle if he needed on his belt plus one emergency line in his left wrist gauntlet.

Then their eyes met and the Caped Crusader eased his stance, body straightening as he started to calculate.

"She came for whatever is in the case first. She left me in the hall to get away and keep me distracted with the fight. Thorne here was likely just happenstance for her but now serves as an escape route... she wants the case."

"What do you want?" Asked the man in grey and blue, his voice dropping to an uneasy growl through gritted teeth.

Per Catwoman's request, Batman stepped towards the case slowly and placed his boot against it. "Before I slide it over... You've had me at a disadvantage since we met. What do I call you?" Asked the Detective while his gaze glanced to the locks on the case. He could pry it open swiftly enough with his gauntlet if needed.

Upon her greeting, Batman pushed the heavy case towards the balcony, sending it sliding across the floor to stop at Catwoman's feet.

"Now pull him up... Slowly." The Dark Knight expected Cat to make a break for it, was ready to give chase to her if need be. He wanted to know why she was targeting Thorne and if anyone else would be next.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Catwoman's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned her weight into the whip, letting Thorne dangle helplessly over the edge. She didn't flinch under Batman's intense gaze, her voice dripping with sass as she replied to his question.

"What do I want? Hmm... diamonds, caviar, and maybe a vacation somewhere warm where men like you aren't breathing down my neck. But for now?" She nodded toward the briefcase beneath his boot. "I'll settle for that. Slide it over, big guy."

"What do I call you?" he asked his next question.

For a moment, her brow arched, as if the thought had never occurred to her. She glanced down at her black suit and lightly traced the whip coiled around her other hand. A smile crept across her face.

"You know," she mused, "I hadn't really thought about it. But seeing as I went through all this effort to dress the part… let's keep it simple. Catwoman." She punctuated her introduction with a sultry smirk. "And you, Dark Knight?" Her tone was playful, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. "What should I call you? Or do you just grunt at everyone who asks?"

Batman's jaw tightened, his silence only making her grin widen. As he shifted his foot and pushed the case her way.

When the case slid to a stop at her feet, she crouched to examine it, her body poised like a predator sizing up its prize. Batman's growled demand followed soon after: "Now pull him up... Slowly."

Catwoman straightened and cocked her head, feigning a thoughtful expression. "You know," she said, lazily twisting the whip in her hands, "I was going to. Really, I was. But…" She trailed off, her voice turning mock-sweet. "Now that I think about it, I don't feel like it. It's not every day I get to see Rupert sweat like this. It's kind of... entertaining."

Thorne let out another strangled cry, his pleas rising in pitch. Catwoman didn't so much as glance at him, keeping her attention on Batman.

"Relax, Bats," she purred. "You're so wound up. I know you'd never let poor Rupert here take a nosedive, not even if it meant keeping me on a leash. That's the difference between us, isn't it? I do what needs to be done."

Her grip on the whip shifted, the faintest tug making Thorne yelp in terror. She leaned her weight back just enough to emphasize the precarious nature of his situation, her gaze never leaving the Dark Knight.

"But hey, if it's leverage you're after..." Her lips curled into a wicked grin. "This little dance isn't over yet, is it?"

Catwoman tilted her head, a glimmer of wicked amusement flashing in her eyes. She let the tension in the whip relax ever so slightly, eliciting another shrill cry from Thorne as he swayed precariously over the edge.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Bats," she teased, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "If you really wanted him safe, maybe you should've gotten here a little earlier. Or better yet, taken up a different hobby—knitting, perhaps?"

Her grin widened as she leaned in closer, the whip coiled loosely in her hands. "But hey, you wanted me to pull him up, right? Here's a twist on your request."

With a flick of her wrist, she let the whip unravel and snap free, releasing its grip on Thorne. The man's scream tore through the night air as his body plummeted from the balcony, his desperate cries fading into the city below.

At the same instant, Catwoman pounced, snatching the briefcase with feline grace. "Oops," she quipped over her shoulder, already in motion as Batman launched himself toward the edge. "Guess I changed my mind again!"

She vanished into the shadows, a streak of black against the glowing cityscape. As Batman dove after the falling Thorne, she paused just long enough to perch on the edge of the opposite rooftop, watching him grapple and manoeuvre with flawless precision to save the criminal.

"Always the hero," she murmured to herself with a sly grin, the weight of the briefcase secure in her hands. With one last glance at the chaos she'd left behind, Catwoman slipped into the night, a whisper on the wind of the rooftops.

 

[batman4560]

Catwoman pondered and taunted Batman while she retrieved the case and decided against letting Thorne up and instead uncoiled her whip and dove away, vaulting over the edge of the balcony and up towards the next roof across the street.

The woman in leather, or latex, or whatever she wore, would have to swing a fair way away and Batman knew he could cut her off. He knew the city like the back of his hand and would make sure to cut her off.

Swiftly as Rupert fell, screaming with terror and flailing wildly as if that would somehow save him, the Caped Crusader twisted, jumped over the edge of the balcony and fired a grapple line as he fell toward Thorne.

Batman's arms held firmly at his side while aiming and picking up speed. Suddenly as a black line trailed behind Batman, he reached out and grabbed Thorne by the wrist and yanked him closer to Batman. The duo twisted in the air, and the Caped Crusader placed his grapple line on Thorne's belt and moved past him mid air to fire off his second line towards the building Catwoman was fleeing towards.

Slowly the line hooked to Thorne started to reel him up towards the underside of the balcony Thorne was tossed from. It would take hours for the goons in Rupert's building to recover and find him, let alone pull him up safely. Batman expected to see Rupert on the news.

---

While Catwoman moved across the rooftops of the city, from the shadows of the smokestacks around her a voice ghosted over her the same way the fog of the smokestacks had clung to her curvy form.

The ice cold blue of Batman's eyes scanned the woman from afar. It wasn't hard to find her on the square building, it was the only non slanted rooftop aside from Thorne's and the one he had started on for two blocks and it made for a great vantage point of anywhere in downtown Gotham.

At the moment his voice hit her, he watched as she paused and started to take stock of her surroundings. Twenty or so small smokestacks only calf high or so littered the rooftop and six tall brick chimney stacks ran along the left and right flank's of the building ten feet or so apart in their lines.

Batman watched Catwoman and darted around the larger smoke stacks, using the thick plumes of dark smoke from the smaller stacks as cover. His foot falls were as silent as the hiss of fog on the buildings rooftop, showing just how skilled he could be in stealth when people weren't already running around after a whip cracking temptress.

"You can't escape me. There is nowhere safe for you to go from here. Put the case down." Batman's voice once again ghosted over the building, the sonorous tone of his voice carried across rooftop again.

"NOW." Batman's voice boomed with resounding command all at once. Two heart beats passed between his command and his next action.

Without further warning, Batman grasped from his belt a small can, no larger than a thin spray deodorant and rolled it to stop against Catwoman's boot. His cape came up over his face and the can suddenly exploded up, a hollow boom and flash of violent light rocked the roof and as the flash bomb went off, the Batman rushed to the case that Catwoman had dropped.

The Dark Knight slid on his knees to a stop at the case and dug his wrist gauntlet into the seal of the case. swiftly he pried it open and reached in, grabbing a set of papers in the process. The masked man folded the papers and placed them between the small of his back and the dull yellow utility belt he wore, then glanced up in time to see Catwoman recovering.

He swiftly closed the case and did his best to stand before the woman could lash out or worse.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Catwoman stumbled backward, coughing violently as the acrid smoke filled her lungs and stung her eyes. She waved a gloved hand in front of her face, trying to clear the air around her. Her ears were ringing, her vision blurred from the flash of light.

"Real classy, Bats," she croaked, her voice raspy as she struggled to regain her composure. "Throwing toys around like a kid who didn't get his way. What's next? A tantrum?"

She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing just enough to make out his hulking silhouette near the briefcase. Her heart skipped a beat. He was too close. Way too close.

"Ah, ah, ah," she chided, her voice regaining its usual sultry edge despite the lingering smoke in her throat. "That's mine. Hands off."

Her whip was in her hand in an instant, snapping out with a sharp crack. The braided leather lashed around his gauntlet, and she yanked hard, using her weight to pull him off balance. She darted forward, her heel lashing out in a quick kick aimed at his chest.

He dodged, his movement precise and deliberate, but she was already pivoting. She spun on her toes, the momentum carrying her into a roundhouse kick aimed higher. She felt the faint resistance of her boot skimming something solid but not enough to land a full blow.

With a swift leap, she perched on the edge of a low chimney stack, her body taut and ready. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, her lips curling into a smirk.

Her claws gleamed in the dim light as she sprang from her perch, aiming for his exposed flank. Her movements were fluid, her strikes quick and sharp as she raked her claws against the edge of his cape, slicing through the heavy fabric.

She felt the shift before she saw it, his shadow moving faster than expected. Twisting mid-air, she rolled as she landed, coming up into a crouch. Her whip snapped out again, coiling around his ankle with a satisfying crack. She yanked hard, her muscles straining, and watched as he stumbled to one knee.

"Oops," she murmured to herself, a sly grin curling her lips as she darted toward the briefcase.

Her fingers brushed the edge of it, but the rush of air and the tension in her arm told her she wasn't alone. She twisted her body instinctively, wrenching herself free of the hold with a sharp twist and a quick rake of her claws against the obstruction.

Catwoman stood near the edge of the rooftop, the briefcase clutched tightly in her gloved hand, her whip coiled loosely at her side. The soft breeze carrying with it the faint scent of smoke and city grime. She tilted her head, her emerald eyes locking onto the dark figure across from her.

"Well, this is awkward," she purred, a playful smirk curling her lips. "You want the case, and I... well, I really don't feel like sharing tonight." Her voice dripped with mock innocence, but there was a gleam of mischief in her eyes that hinted at anything but.

She shifted her weight onto one hip, her posture casual despite the tension crackling in the air. "Tell you what, big guy—why don't we call it a draw? You keep brooding over there, and I'll just... saunter off into the night. Sound fair?"

Her whip snapped out suddenly, striking the ground between them like a warning shot. She smiled wickedly, holding her ground, waiting to see what move he would make next.

 

[batman4560]

It was easy enough to ignore Catwoman's quips while the Dark Knight's midnight blue clad fingers pilfered her files but she had recovered much quicker than he expected her to. The crack of her whip was enough to get Batman's attention, make him close the case and try to rise, he knew better than to tangle with something that could break the sound barrier so swiftly.

As the whip shot towards him like a bullet and wrapped around the Batman's gauntlet, he felt the kevlar and impact plating give way in his suit, if only barely... "Damn it.." Growled the Bat while he was pulled forward and away from the case.

The Dark Knight's cold blue eyes darted to Catwoman's stance, saw the kick coming and planted his left foot, and threw his right leg back to keep himself as narrow as possible. He twisted with the spin to throw a back fist while he unraveled the whip from his arm at the same time but felt the air near his head slicing!

With what little time he had, the masked pulled his head back and felt a heel glide across the side of his head, the mask's various lens switch was broken on impact. The two swiftly broke away from one another to catch their breaths and even the Caped Crusader couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. She was better than he cared to admit aloud.

He grabbed at the edge of his cape to mask his movements but the black clad vixen sliced right through it with her claws. They were sharper than any normal blade... Batman's eyes zeroed in on her fingers for a split second but she was already moving past him from her perched lunge.

At the very moment they twisted to face one another the vixen had her lash around Batman's ankle and was yanking his impressive weight off balance, causing him to come down hard onto a knee.

While Catwoman darted, Batman sprung forward and used his greater reach to grasp her wrist just before she could snatch the case up. The beauty deftly twisted and slashed against his chest piece, ruining the black bat emblem splayed across his pectorals, revealing the thicker armor under the fabric of his suit. "What are those made of...?" He asked under his breath.

Again the pair broke apart and caught their breath. The Dark Knight rolled his shoulders and smirked while the beauty proposed a draw. Slowly Batman shook his head and tapped his ruined chest piece.

There was a lot he wanted to say, part of him even considered flirting with her but instead he settled for something simple. "Best of three."

Batman darted towards the woman with all the power in his body, letting his long strides carry him the short distance between them. As he closed the gap, Batman threw his leg up in a side kick to bat her away from the ledge. As his kicking leg planted, his braced leg lifted and jutted out to try and trip her up while his right hand reached out and wrapped around Catwoman's neck to hold her upright.

"Drop it." Batman growled while pulling Catwoman closer towards him.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Catwoman smirked, her lips curling with a mix of defiance and seduction as Batman’s firm grip tightened around her neck. The warmth of his gloved hand against her skin was almost distracting, but she thrived on moments like this—dangerous, thrilling, and charged with tension.

“My, my, Bats,” she purred, tilting her head slightly to the side, her voice a sultry whisper that cut through the night. “You sure know how to take a girl’s breath away.” Her green eyes gleamed as she leaned in closer, letting the tip of her tongue flick teasingly along the edge of his mask.

The reaction was instant—a slight hitch in his breath, almost imperceptible, but she caught it. "A little personal, don’t you think?" she teased, her voice honeyed and low.

Before he could respond, her diamond-tipped claws struck like lightning, swiping precisely where she had earlier spotted the compromised kevlar on his torso. Her strike found its mark, slashing through the weakened armor and eliciting a sharp grunt from the Dark Knight.

“Oops,” she murmured playfully, her breath brushing against his ear as she twisted out of his grip. Her hand darted to his utility belt, where she pilfered a sleek, metallic Batarang. “Consider this a token of our little rendezvous.”

She used the moment of his stunned reaction to leap backward, landing in a graceful crouch with the briefcase. In one fluid motion, she kicked out, forcing him to block her leg with his forearm, and then darted to snatch the case.

“See you around, handsome,” she called over her shoulder as she bolted for the edge of the rooftop. With a flick of her whip, she vaulted into the night, disappearing into the labyrinth of Gotham’s skyline.

---

Catwoman finally slowed her pace, slipping into a shadowed alley several blocks away. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, the thrill of the encounter still thrumming through her veins. She leaned against the brick wall, her smirk widening as she set the briefcase down and turned it over in her hands.

“Well, Selina,” she said to herself, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “That wasn’t entirely a disaster.”

But her smug satisfaction evaporated the moment she flipped open the case. Instead of the incriminating documents she’d risked her neck for, it was empty save for a mocking slip of blank paper, a few wads of cash and a scattering of jewels. Her sharp eyes scanned the interior, searching for any hidden compartments or overlooked scraps, but there was nothing.

“Damn it, Batman!” she hissed, slamming the case shut with enough force to echo through the alley. She kicked the wall in frustration, her stiletto heel leaving a faint scuff on the bricks.

Despite the loss, her expression softened as her thoughts drifted to the accounts she’d already hacked and drained. Thorne’s money—blood money, really—was already en route to East End charities. It wouldn’t topple the corrupt kingpin entirely, but it was a start, rejuvenating the local area. She smiled faintly, her anger easing.

“The city owes me for that one,” she muttered, walking casually across the city before arriving at her destination. Removing her mask and gloves, Selina hoisted the case under her arm as she eyed the nearby fire escape. In a few graceful leaps, she ascended to her apartment window, nudging it open and slipping inside.

Her small but elegant apartment exuded luxury—a thief’s paradise, funded by her cunning and quick fingers. Priceless artwork adorned the walls, including a few pieces that would make even the most elite collectors weep with envy. A chandelier, far too grand for the modest space, sparkled above the living room, casting dim light over a plush, velvet couch.

As she set the briefcase on the floor, a chorus of soft meows greeted her. Her cats—Isis, Bastet, and Midnight—wove between her legs, their tails curling affectionately around her boots.

“Hello, my darlings,” she cooed, crouching to stroke each of them in turn. “Mommy missed you too.”

She moved to the kitchen, retrieving cans of gourmet cat food from the cupboard and filling their dishes. While the cats eagerly ate, she pulled the stolen Batarang from her pocket, turning it over in the dim light. The sleek design and razor-sharp edges were unmistakable—a perfect representation of its brooding owner.

With a smirk, she walked to the fridge and slapped it onto the door with a magnet. It gleamed against the stainless steel, a trophy of her escapade.

Finally, she collapsed onto the couch, her body sinking into the soft cushions as her cats climbed up to join her. Stroking Isis’s soft fur, she let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Mommy’s in love,” she murmured to her feline companions, her smirk returning as she stared at the Batarang on the fridge. “But don’t tell him that... yet.”

 

[batman4560]

Catwoman's sultry voice sent a chill down the Dark Knight's spine and caused the small hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. There was something alluring about thew woman that Batman had a hard time resisting. He should have kept her from getting close, should have stopped her from leaning towards him...

The tip of her long tongue ghosted against the edge of his mask just where it met his face. The intimate act threw Batman off balance and his normally well maintained breath suddenly hitched in his chest hard, his grip wavered and loosened around her neck for just an instant... that instant was all she needed.

A sharp burn suddenly ached in his flank, ribs ached with a hot chill as blood stained the grey of his armor after a sharp gash by diamond tipped claws. "Nnh..." Batman grit his teeth and sharply grunted, only noticing Catwoman robbing after it was too late.

With a sharp kick, Catwoman put Batman on the back foot once again and he stepped backwards with a grunt. he was going to have a bruised forearm from her whip strikes and kicks at this rate.

"Count on it..." Batman grumbled in response while easing the ache in his wrist while stretching out with a groan to check his bleeding ribs. "Those are going to need work."

---

Bruce stepped out of the sleek black car he left in and limped towards a chair while yanking off his mask and dropping it atop a table with a heavy thud. Alfred raised a brow at his charge and nodded at his wound.

"Do you require medical attention, Sir?" He asked and stepped to help Bruce sit in the chair.

"I... met a woman. Sharp witted, sharper tongue. Very sharp claws." Bruce joked with sarcasm while Alfred grabbed the first aid kit and Bruce began removing the armor pieces from his torso, letting the top of his suit clatter to the floor with a heavy thud.

Alfred swiftly got to work cleaning Bruce's wound and gave Bruce a compress to place between his teeth. "Sir this is going to need some stitches. I do advise you to sit a night or two out instead of running around town chasing crooks."

Just before Bruce could protest, a sharp sting ripped through him while Alfred started to stitch his flank up, sealing the long gash. Bruce glared at Alfred but held a smirk through the pain Alfred made him endure. "So, care to tell me about this woman who has captured your heart?"

"No, not really, Alfred. Maybe once I know her better."

---

The following morning Bruce stared at himself in the mirror, and gingerly put a black button down shirt over his body, wincing as the light fabric pressed to his side. His blue eyes narrowed on the wound that was gently wrapped.

"First time for everything." He mumbled, observing the first wound he had gotten in Gotham that would leave a scar. "Alfred!.... Do me a favor and cancel my meetings at work today. I have a feeling I'm not going to make it in."

Once again Bruce's Rolls Royce pulled up to the Ardor, this time dressed in a simple black suit jacket with matching pants and shirt. Swiftly Bruce handed the Valet a crisp one hundred dollar bill with the keys to his car and entered the building.

Deftly Bruce's eyes darted around the open space searching for the dark haired beauty until he spotted Selina with the group that had been talking with her the night prior. It seemed her shift was just about to start so Bruce rushed over as best as he could without limping or wincing.

"Excuse me, Selina, may I have a moment?" Bruce asked when he drew closer, flashing her and the others a warm smile. It was at that moment Bruce realized he had come without a plan and started to speak with a soft blush covering his cheeks.

"I had a lot of fun yesterday, even while I was spying on Thorne. Is there any way you'd let me take you out, case your next target perhaps?" Questioned the man while he shrugged his shoulders and lifted a brow to punctuate his question.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Selina's laughter rang out like a bell, her bright smile captivating her colleagues as she regaled them with her exaggerated tale from the night before.

"And then," she said, placing a dramatic hand over her heart, "Bruce Wayne himself leaned in, all smoulder and charm, and said, 'Selina, you have utterly bewitched me.' I mean, can you believe it? Gotham's golden boy, bewitched. It was all terribly romantic."

The group around her chuckled, soaking in her animated recounting of her supposed dinner with Gotham's most eligible bachelor. Inside, though, her mood simmered with annoyance. Batman. The audacity of him to waltz in, steal her prize, and leave her empty-handed. She'd been so close to bringing Rupert Thorne's empire to its knees, and now? Now she had to improvise. Again.

But the account wasn't a total waste, she reminded herself. The East End would be better for it. Still, the documents would have been the cherry on top of a very satisfying pie. This morning when Selina lounged on her worn velvet couch, today's newspaper spread across her lap, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Her lips quirked into a wicked grin as she took in the front-page photo: Rupert Thorne dangling from the balcony of his gaudy penthouse, his face twisted in terror, the headline screaming "Politician Left Hanging!" She couldn't help but chuckle, imagining the self-righteous Batman, all brooding gravitas, swooping in to save Thorne only to leave him dangling like a worm on a hook. "Classic Bat," she mused, shaking her head. "Save the criminal, but humiliate him just enough to send a message. I'd applaud if it wasn't such a waste of my time." Her eyes lingered on the photo for a moment longer, a twinge of annoyance creeping in. Those documents she'd lost could've been the final nail in Thorne's coffin, and now here he was, alive and well—though undoubtedly more terrified of heights. She smirked, folding the paper. "Guess he owes me for softening him up. You're welcome, Bats."

Her attention snapped back to her co-workers as they erupted into laughter at her closing line. She smirked and leaned back against the counter, feigning nonchalance. That's when she saw him.

Bruce Wayne.

Again.

Striding through the lobby in a crisp black suit, his eyes zeroed in on her like a hawk spotting its prey. She sighed, already dreading whatever clumsy excuse he had this time. The man had charm, sure, but she had little patience for interruptions, especially when she was still stewing over the night's true events.

"Excuse me, Selina, may I have a moment?" Bruce asked, his smile disarming as he approached.

Her colleagues perked up like cats at the sound of a can opener. Selina folded her arms, raising a brow. "Mr. Wayne, is there a reason you keep accosting me at work? Do I need to call security?"

Bruce blinked, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he fumbled for words. "I had a lot of fun yesterday, even while I was spying on Thorne. Is there any way you'd let me take you out, case your next target perhaps?"

Selina opened her mouth to deliver a sharp rejection, but one of her co-workers, Carla jumped in before she could. "Selina, can I borrow you for a second?"

With a quick glance at Bruce, Selina reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled aside.

"What is wrong with you?" her co-worker hissed, glancing back at Bruce, who awkwardly fiddled with his cufflinks. "That's Bruce Wayne. Do you know how many women would kill for this opportunity?"

Selina rolled her eyes. "I'm not 'many women,' and I don't appreciate being cornered at my job."

Her co-worker groaned. "Look, I get it. You're independent, blah blah blah. But this is Bruce Wayne. He's rich, charming, and clearly into you. Just one date. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Why don't you date him then." Selina shot back before instantly regretting her sharpness.

"Oh believe me I would but he's not asking me is he? He's asking you." Carla continued undeterred.

Selina hesitated, her annoyance wavering. Bruce had been unintentionally amusing last night. And perhaps a date with Gotham's golden boy could prove...useful. There was that big old mansion of his with all those treasures...

"Fine," she muttered. "But if he gets clingy, I'm holding you responsible."

Her co-worker grinned and gave her a gentle shove back toward Bruce. Selina straightened her posture, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she approached him.

"Alright, Mr. Wayne," she said, her tone light and teasing. "You win. I'll let you take me out. But two conditions: one, no more ambushing me at work. And two," she leaned in slightly, grabbing his wrist and scrawling her number across his palm with a sharpie from her apron, her voice dropping just enough to make him lean closer, "don't disappoint me. I have very high standards."

Selina stepped back, smoothing her apron as if the exchange had been nothing more than a casual conversation. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shift to start. So were you planning on eating something or is it just stalking on the menu tonight?"

 

[batman4560]

Bruce fumbled over himself at the thought of accosting Selina. The last thing he had considered was that he might come of that way. "No...I...." Bruce stammered as Carla tugged Selina away for a short word.

Silently Bruce smiled at the others and turned a darker shade of red shortly before he began to fidget with his cuff-links, wondering if they were too much for the mostly casual way he was dressed in the higher end building.

Suddenly Bruce stood straight as Selina called out to him. He glanced down at her hand jotting a number down and he memorized it just in case it got smudged off. A soft smile spread over his lips and he nodded in agreement. "Sure... I might as well eat, but I think I'll sit over there..." muttered the man while pointing to Carla's section. "I don't want to impose."

Lazily Bruce strolled to an empty seat and settled down. He mostly sipped on tea but sat until near close, nibbling while scrolling through his phone, intently studying a map of the city. While Bruce hung around he scheduled a horse drawn carriage for seven P.M. tomorrow after learning from Carla that Selina was off Friday. Bruce was sure he new the perfect place to take her for dinner but couldn't be sure until he got her there...

As the building started to close shop, Bruce paid his bill and paid just as well as he had the last time then stood and waved goodbye to everyone and shot Selina a text.

-Selina, I'll pick you up at Seven Thirty Sharp tomorrow night. Send me the address of wherever you'd like me to pick you up from and wear whatever you like.
Bruce Wayne

Just as Bruce finished sending his text, his phone rang and his brow furrowed while he answered the call. "Everything okay Alfred?" When Bruce answered, the valet brought the Rolls Royce around and Bruce slid inside.

"Sir, these documents you lifted from Catwoman are quite interesting. It seems these can be used to lock Mr. Throne away for quite a long time. I don't think I understand some of what I'm looking at but there is clearly something illegal at play including shell companies. If these were to get into the right hands... Well I do believe Thorne would be in hot water."

"Then lets make sure that some copies arrive on the front desk of Private Investigator Jim Corrigan and Detective Montoya." Bruce concluded the thought and pinched the bridge of his nose while he drove down the road towards home.

"And your attempt to ask Miss Kyle out?" Alfred pondered from the other line, dishes clattered in the background while Alfred unloaded the dish machine and inspected plates for any left over residue.

"She agreed but seemed hesitant. If she doesn't enjoy the night I'll move on and try to not bug her again. But she seems like the type to play it cooler than she would let on. So maybe I'll try to read into what she says and how she reacts to things."

---

Across town at the abandoned Gotham amusement park a man in a purple suit sat hunched over the latest paper. "Ya know Harl, this Bat-Man fellow seems to be quite the inspiration! Gothic look in a dark city, dealing with the common criminal... making way for the big league players.... Nnaahahahahahahhaahah-aaaaahhahahahahahha!" the chalk skinned man cackled and fell backwards in his seat, hitting the ground while he kicked his feet in the air wildly until he managed to catch his breath.

As soon as the man stopped laughing, he sat up straight and pulled the chair straight up again. The light above him caught the green hue of his hair and the Joker broke into a wide brimmed grin.

"Harl, put our number out to every major information broker in Gotham! When Thorne gets desperate I want him to think of us...."

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Selina stood just outside the Ardor, one heeled foot propped against the building's marble façade, her arms crossed loosely as she waited. She'd had plenty of time to think—too much, really. The last time Bruce Wayne had shown up, he'd stayed all evening, smiling that charming, maddening smile of his, talking to anyone who stopped by his table. Even though she hadn't been serving him that night, his presence had been impossible to ignore. No one had ever pursued her quite so ardently before, and it had her feeling both intrigued and uncharacteristically off balance.

His message had only added to the effect: Wear whatever you like. As if it were that simple. Selina had spent the better part of the day debating everything, from a chic pantsuit to something more playful, before settling on the black dress hanging in her closet—sleek, timeless, and a touch suggestive. Her hair fell in soft waves down her back, paired with couture designer heels she couldn't help but splurge on. This was Bruce Wayne, after all. The Prince of Gotham. If he was playing the part, so was she.

Her mind flitted to her last run-in with Batman, a scowl threatening her lips. And speaking of infuriating men... She thought about his gravelly voice, the impossible tension in his presence, and that infuriatingly noble streak. He'd stolen her documents, sure, but she couldn't decide if she wanted to claw his eyes out or just mess with him more. "Bet he irons that cape," she muttered under her breath. "Probably practices brooding in the mirror."

Her train of thought derailed at the sound of hooves. Selina blinked as a horse-drawn carriage pulled up in front of her, the horses polished and gleaming, the driver tipping his hat. When Bruce stepped out, dressed impeccably as usual, she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. It wasn't mocking, just pure amusement.

"Well," she said, taking his offered hand with a raised brow, "you really know how to make an entrance, don't you, Wayne? I half-expected a private jet to land on the roof, but this? This is next-level."

---

Harley Quinn perched on the edge of a broken-down carousel horse, twirling a lock of her platinum-blonde hair between her fingers. She was dressed to kill—or at least maim—a red and black leather jacket with matching shorts hugged her curves, torn fishnets climbing up her legs into chunky boots scuffed from a dozen back-alley brawls. A heart-shaped smudge of black makeup decorated her cheek, just below her mischievous blue eyes, and her baseball bat rested casually across her lap, ready for action.

She blew a bubble with her gum, letting it pop loudly before rolling her eyes at the Joker's theatrics. "Puddin', I dunno why ya gotta sit around cacklin' like a hyena every time somethin' tickles your funny bone. You're gonna scare off all the pigeons! And don't even get me started on the 'Bat inspiration' thing. You and Batsy? Two peas in a psychotic pod!"

But when he mentioned Thorne, Harley perked up, a devilish grin spreading across her painted lips. "Ooh, you're thinkin' big-time, huh? 'Bout time, Mistah J. Ol' Rupert's gonna be scramblin' for someone to clean up his mess, and who better than us, right? 'Course, if he don't pay up, we can always... y'know... make it look like an accident." She pantomimed an explosion with her hands, complete with a "Kaboom!" sound effect.

Harley hopped off her carousel seat and landed with a dramatic twirl, pulling a crumpled notebook from her jacket pocket. She flipped through it, muttering under her breath, "Big names... info brokers... oh! I know just the guy for this. Lemme handle it, Puddin'. I'll have the whole city buzzin' about the Clown Prince of Crime in no time!"

She leaned in close, resting her chin on her bat and batting her lashes at him. "But ya better not forget who's runnin' your operations when you're sittin' on top of the whole dang city, okay? A gal likes a little appreciation every now and then, ya know." She giggled, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before sauntering off to do his bidding, swinging her bat and humming a cheery tune that sounded suspiciously like the circus theme.

 

[batman4560]

The carriage ride to the Ardor was nerve wracking for Bruce. His dark brown hair was brushed back but had a few strands hanging in his face, and his royal blue suit jacket was left undone to try and aid him in keeping cool.

Sitting next to the door, Bruce kept a small back tucked under the bench filled with a black pair of sweat pants and a hoodie. Bruce found it hard to read Selina, the woman was a mystery to him in almost every sense of the word. Every time he thought that he was doing something that she enjoyed, the beauty seemed to turn the moment into a sarcastic instant.

A part of Bruce hoped Selina wasn't going out with him as a way to humor or to pacify him. Just as he was starting to get into his head, the sight of Ardor snapped him to attention and the tall man buttoned up his suit jacket over the black vets he wore then straightened his blue and white tie as the carriage came to a slow stop.

Slowly, Bruce pushed the door open and stepped out, only for his gaze to land upon Selina's simple but seductive black dress and the way it clung to her body. Suddenly Bruce felt his face flush red with a blush that he tried to repress.

Bruce extended his arm, that old plain strapped watch peeking out past his family cuff-links while Bruce reached out to help Selina up. Her genuine laugh made Bruce break out into a small fit of giggles with her, even he had to admit that it was all a bit much.

"I couldn't get the air clearance to land the jet. But Selina Kyle told me to impress her, so I'm going to impress her." Bruce replied while helping Selina up into the carriage and making sure she was settled in before tapping the side of the carriage to signal to the driver they were ready. "Seriously though, thank you for coming out with me tonight."

The bright lights from the tall oppressive buildings around them cast a gentle hue of yellow and orange over their faces as the horses pulled the pair around Gotham, cutting through Gotham National Park as a shortcut. "Just so you know, I didn't mean to corner you at work to ask you out. I just didn't know another way to get in touch that wouldn't have seemed like I was stalking you. I thought a public place might have been the most comfortable for you. I'm sorry for making you feel uneasy."

Gently Bruce used his foot to push the bag under his bench further back and smiled at Selina while his fingers nervously tapped against the leather seat. Slowly Bruce drew a deep breath and steadied his breathing. "You look amazing." He gently gestured to the green eyed beauty and pondered how he should break the ice.

"So, any new criminals you're planning on robbing? I heard Thorne was left hanging out to dry." Bruce leaned forward and listened intently to Selina then grinned happily. "I was't sure exactly what you like so I did some looking around.... You would be shocked at how much you don't get invited to when you don't show up to events often.... There is a new Lounge opening tonight at the barge. It's supposed to be made of pure ice and sail around the Islands every other hour." Bruce explained as the horse drawn carriage moved towards the Gotham waterfront.

Bruce didn't mention that they offered dancing, instead deciding to ask her once she had relaxed around him a little more. "And if you're interested, before the night ends, I have a special surprise planned somewhere else but I don't want you to feel any pressure to attend if you're not having a good time by the time we leave the lounge." Added the dark haired man.

"So, what does a master thief do for fun when she's not working at the Ardor and defending her boss?" asked Bruce while not mentioning that he was actively working to buy as much stock in the company as he could find, hoping to get fifty one percent before letting anyone find out.

 

[VelvetWhispers]

Selina tilted her head at him, the faintest smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Well, Bruce, consider me impressed," she murmured, settling into the plush seat of the carriage as it rolled forward. She hadn't expected to be charmed by the theatrics, but there was something oddly endearing about him arriving in a horse-drawn carriage. Maybe it was the sheer commitment to the bit. Maybe it was just him.

As Bruce spoke, his voice low and steady, Selina found her gaze drifting to the city passing by outside the window. Gotham had always been a place of stark contrasts—light and dark, wealth and ruin, beauty and decay. But from this vantage point, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights and the flickering reflection of neon signs against rain-slicked streets, it was almost... magical. She had spent her whole life weaving through Gotham's alleys and rooftops, but she had never seen it quite like this. The old wrought-iron lampposts in Gotham National Park cast long, golden halos over the winding paths, the trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. Couples strolled along the cobblestone bridges, the lake beneath them rippling with the glow of a distant skyscraper's reflection. A violinist played under an archway, his mournful melody trailing after them as the carriage passed by. It was beautiful, in a way she hadn't expected Gotham could ever be.

When Bruce's voice pulled her back to the moment, she turned her head, finally looking at him in the dim candlelight of the carriage. He had that steady, searching expression on his face—like he was trying to figure her out, trying to decide if she was enjoying herself. The light flickered over his sharp jawline, catching in his dark eyes, and for the briefest moment, something in her chest gave a quiet, unexpected flutter.

"Thanks," she said softly, her usual teasing edge absent for once. Then, recovering, she added with a smirk, "And you don't look so bad yourself, Wayne. I see you even brushed your hair for me. I feel special."

His laughter was genuine, and she found herself smiling in return. When he jokingly asked if she had her next heist lined up, she let out a quiet chuckle, tilting her head playfully. "Still looking for my next target, actually. Haven't quite decided yet." A slow, knowing smile curved her lips when he mentioned Thorne. The image of that smug criminal hanging from his own penthouse balcony flashed in her mind, and for a split second, so did the Bat. But she refused to let Gotham's favourite vigilante intrude on a date she was actually starting to enjoy.

As they neared the waterfront, the glittering expanse of the bay stretched out before them. The lights of Gotham shimmered across the water, reflecting off the towering glass façade of the new floating lounge. The barge itself was a dazzling spectacle—constructed of sleek steel and curved glass, with the rumoured ice lounge glowing an ethereal blue at its core. The entrance was a vision of opulence, with velvet ropes lining the dock and elegantly dressed guests stepping aboard like they were boarding a luxury yacht.

Selina arched a brow at Bruce. "Something tells me you're not going to have a problem getting us in," she quipped, giving him a sidelong glance ay his mention of not being invited.

When he asked what a master thief did for fun when she wasn't working or defending her boss, Selina found herself caught off guard. Fun. The question lingered in her mind longer than it should have, and to her own surprise, she hesitated before responding. "Well," she began, somewhat sheepishly, "I have cats… and I like art." She shrugged, playing it down, though her knowledge of the subject ran far deeper than she let on. "Mostly just amateur interest." Then, turning the tables, she shot him a wry look. "And what about Gotham's most eligible playboy? What does he do when he's not dating supermodels and waitresses, apparently—or being a trust fund baby?"

She listened with genuine interest when the carriage rolled to a gentle stop near the dock, the glow of the lounge's entrance casting long reflections onto the water. Bruce stepped out first and turned to help her down, but after she let him, she caught his tie between her fingers, straightening it with a teasing flick. Selina could see it in the way his fingers had tapped against the leather seat, in the subtle way his shoulders tensed whenever she was quiet for too long—Bruce was genuinely concerned about whether she wanted to be here. It wasn't the insecurity of a man afraid of rejection, nor the arrogance of someone expecting adoration; it was something else, something real. He wanted this night to be something she enjoyed, not just tolerated. That realisation was… disarming. Men had tried to impress her before, but never like this. Never with such a strange mix of confidence and vulnerability. It wasn't just about the carriage or the exclusive venue—it was about her. And damn it all, she was starting to like that. "Relax, Bruce," she said, her voice low and amused. "I'm already having a good time. And I have no intention of leaving."

Her hands smoothed down his chest, slow and deliberate, before her fingers slipped into his. Then, in one fluid motion, she wrapped his arm around her lower back, settling his hold on her exactly where she wanted it. Looking up at him through thick lashes, she grinned. "Shall we?"