Cats always keep their cool.

We tease, we purr, we hiss, we scratch. We can be your confidante or your worst enemy. But through it all, even the hissing and scratchy, we keep our cool. We know what we're about. Oh, I'm not saying the I don't get angry and that I don't do rash things—cats are also unpredictable—but I'm in control of myself, always. That's what the "cat" in "Catwoman" means.

It doesn't even startle me to him in my apartment. I was expecting this, what with me stealing his fortune and the whole thing with the rhino. Nope, doesn't startle me one bit. All it does is supremely tick me off. You don't want to tick off this cat, not with everything that's happened to her in the last few years—and most especially if you carved out her heart and used it as bait. Even more so if you're a walking reminder that her…whatever is no longer among the living.

"Elliot, I should have known." I sound far too much like him, I know. If Elliot thinks I'll ever be unnerved by his looking like Bruce again, he's wrong. It was a one shot wonder and I survived. Suddenly the night feels like its just beginning. I'm fresh again and ready to for a serious case of psychopath pummeling.

What startles me is the laugh. It's all wrong. And not in a madly grinning "I'm the Joker and you should all lighten up" kind of way. That face—it doesn't laugh, not honestly. On occasion I've been able to crack a small grin on the original and I'm sure the Robins have gotten more. But I've never seen him really laugh (well, maybe more of a generous chuckle and a grin), all the way to his eyes.

And that ticks me off even more. That face. Those eyes. That laugh. He's trying to mess with my head and I don't stand for anybody messing with my head.

So maybe I'm not analytical and detached when I try to plant my boot in his face, but I'm not acting from blind folly. I have a purpose, to make him hurt and get him into the mental institution where he belongs. A sort of plan—stay in control. Not that that's hard with Elliot.

He reacts fast. Too fast. He must've spent a ridiculous amount of time training to get this good. All that just to take me out—I'm flattered. But I also have good reflexes, so try as he might, he won't get anywhere.

He's still smiling. And his eyes are mocking me…

His eyes…Elliot had brown eyes, these are blue. Oh. My.

"Oof!"

He's got me. Not enough force to do any damage, but enough to knock the wind out of me.

"Shouldn't let your guard down like that," he says. "Selina."

Maybe always was a bit of an exaggeration.

SPOILER ALERT: Again, if RIP is a mystery to you and you didn't get what this whole story is about...you probably don't want to read my rant. But please, click the little button and R&R if you dare...

Wow. Not something I've dabbled in for awhile. Probably because at the moment, Batman depresses me--well, more accurately RIP frustrates me to the point that I just don't want to think about it. I mean seriously, is Tim the only smart one? Grant Morrisson had better fix this faster then fast because they were going places that I liked...and then they have to semi-kill him. AUGH!!!!! Not that I can't be happy with the "new" Batman (oh c'mon, he did fine last time. Deep breaths, it'll be fun) but I mean...(and this is where you can tell I'm definitely more a Catwoman fan) when do they get a break? Has Selina not lost enough important people in her life? Is there some supernatural law against these two being happy and could we mix Talia's death in there somehow? And fin. I'm done.