Batman and Catwoman: Gotham Nights
The chill wind and autumn leaves dance around Gotham City on October nights like these. The moon has been waxing, and will soon be full, and it shines down on his city, revealing it, as it should be seen. From the top of Wayne Tower, the entirety of Gotham is illuminated with the dim glow of moonbeams and streetlamps. The haunting gothic architecture and darkness giving a quiet respect and dignity to the city that most overlook and mistake for gloom. It's quiet, the kind of quiet that gives him hope that Gotham will rise from its past. Recently, things had been changing, his war went on, but it finally seems as though it may be drawing to a close. Gordon finally received enough evidence to arrest the Mayor and most of his government on racketeering and corruption charges. It's a miracle that Detective Bullock came across an audio recording of the mayor and his men discussing how best to rig elections and suppress their opponent's voter turn out. It was a miracle, helped along by a Red Robin who became a better detective than his mentor.
With the mayor gone, the dam of political corruption that had been building in Gotham since the early 1900's finally broke. The police force also went through renovations, with Gordon able to finally supply an honest internal affairs department, corrupt cops went from being the status quo to a rarity. All of the corrupt politicians and cops started turning on one another, many cut deals that involved little jail time, others turned states evidence on criminal organizations they had partnered with for leniency, but that didn't matter. What mattered was, for the first time in almost a century, Gotham had a democratically elected government, and the last vestiges of "old crime" had been destroyed.
The "new crime", as the Gotham newspapers and media called it, was still around, but even that began to improve within a matter of months. With new, largely uncorrupted, government officials, reforms of security pushed through by an eager new DA and a weary Police Commissioner finally demanded overhauls to Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Prison. Whenever he put away Dent, Cobblepot, Isely, or Croc, he expected to see them back out in a matter of weeks, two months at the most. But it had been six months now, six months since he had put away the Joker, Harley, Freeze, all of them, and they hadn't escaped yet. It has been six months of just dealing with street thugs. After dealing with psychopaths, personality disorders, friends who are now enemies, fighting muggers were a welcome change.
With all of this in mind, standing on top of Wayne tower, staring at his city below, his birthright, his responsibility, he did not see chaos or mayhem. He did not see criminals, he just saw people. They weren't running for their lives from toxic gas, or being shot at by a troubled man with a scarred coin, they were living their lives. His patrols are becoming less and less active; Tim and Dick had come to visit and remarked on how different the city is. Dick went as far to say the city felt different. Of course Gotham feels different, this city hasn't felt hope or relief in lifetimes. And for the first time in his life, he can return home to Wayne manor, and tell his parents he was winning his crusade. Looking down from Wayne tower, his cape billowing around him, thinking all of this, the Batman smiled.
There were still loose ends to take care of. Nobody had heard anything from Nygma in almost a year, Jason had fled Gotham and was taking his new brand of vigilantism to various places, he was last seen in Star City. Oliver had contacted him about getting into a fight with the Red Hood, but he got away. This time, just this once, Bruce hoped that Jason stayed hidden. Other then that, most of the criminals in Gotham were lying low, hiding from the now functioning police, courts, and prisons.
"Excuse me for interrupting Sir." A familiar English voice came in through his cowl.
"What is it Alfred?"
"Crime seems to be relatively quiet tonight sir, there has been a shooting on the corner of Stills and Knox. The police are on their way; the 9-1-1 call came as a mugging at first. I just thought it could give you something to do, you have been so bored of late."
"On route" was the only response the faithful butler received in reply as Batman leapt from his perch. He used his cape to glide across to the rooftops across from the massive structure bearing his name. He ran, knowing it would be quicker to travel by foot on the rooftops of Gotham than to drive to the scene of the crime. The city had gone through an increase of nighttime activity since the recent decrease in crime, and the Batmobile could no longer enjoy the empty streets born of fear of victimization that it used to.
If Bruce allowed himself any feelings under his cape and cowl, he would have to admit to himself that he almost enjoyed the feeling of running to help a victim on a cool Gotham night. If he weren't careful, he would let himself enjoy being a hero, which was dangerous. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, until he leapt from the roof again, this time drawing his grapple gun from his belt and firing it across streets. It buried itself deep into dark brick and mortar, and pulled him away with the strength that would tear the shoulder off of a lesser man.
Eventually, he found himself looking down on the crime scene. It had all of the marks of a mugging gone wrong. He saw the back of a woman leaning over another person dressed in black; there was blood beginning to pool underneath the victim. They were in an alley, a mugging changed to a shooting; he pushed the vision of his mother and pearls out of his head before landing next to the woman.
"What happened?" He asked, startling the already shocked woman trying to stop the bleeding.
"Oh God, you have to help, she tried to help me but he shot her, he was so fast!"
Bruce moved the woman, who seemed to be frozen trying to push blood back into the bullet wound, when he saw the victim. He hesitated in recognition and disbelief for a moment, before rushing to pull the blood coagulant from his belt while calling for the Batmobile.
"Alfred, prepare the medical lab in the cave!" He roared while performing all the first aid he could on the woman who had tried to stop the mugger. He heard Alfred leave the computer and go prepare the batcave. In another horrifyingly slow ten seconds, the batmobile finally showed up. He took the woman in his arms, and put her in the back seat as carefully as he could. He usually loved having her in his arms, but he hated it in this case. He drove as fast as he could, weaving through traffic, driving on curbs and the wrong side of the road as he roared toward Wayne Manor. The familiar feeling of fear, of loss, began to rise up in his chest, he pushed it down, refusing to feel it as he looked back to see if Catwoman was still breathing. Her chest was rising and falling, but it was strained, and he could hear her labored breathing even over the scream of the Batmobile's engine and his yelled directions to Alfred.
Like always happened when he returned to his home with a person on the edge of death, the rest of the night was a blur. He came back, carried Selina over to a waiting stretcher, and could only watch as Alfred went to help. Soon, the bullet was removed, and given to him to examine later. She was in pain, and the last time Alfred had seen a bullet wound this severe, he had been on a battlefield. It was over an hour of agonizing waiting and work before all the tiny fragments of the bullet were removed, and her bleeding stopped. It was another two hours before new blood was being administered to her via IV. But, finally, she was stabilized. She would be bed ridden for weeks; she had lost too much blood, and she had nearly died. Bruce stayed with her the rest of the night, as Alfred excused himself, exhausted from having to drag another costumed person from death's door. Alfred found him the next morning at the computer, analyzing the remains of the mushroomed bullet they had found in her. It was how Bruce dealt with fear, and with the idea of loss, he worked. Alfred knew it was best not to interrupt his investigation, he knew how he was, and how close he had come to losing someone he cared about that night, even if he didn't want to admit that to himself. Alfred left an English breakfast on the table next to Selina and walked back up the stairs, praying a silent prayer for the child who lost his parents. He prayed for the man who lost everything once, and whose only fear was losing anyone else.