"That idiot!"
Selina Kyle slammed the bedroom door behind her as she began to change out of her purple spandex "work clothes" into her "civilian" attire.
"What idiot would that be?" came an unexpected voice, and Selina whirled to see Zatanna leaning against the doorway to her bathroom.
"Oh, it's you," Selina muttered. "Guess I don't need to ask how you got in."
"True," replied Zatanna. "Although I would think that the operative question is 'why'. But we can get to that later. What idiot?"
"Batman!" Selina spat. "Last time I try to help HIM."
"What happened?" Zatanna asked gently.
"I happened to be swinging over by Gotham Plaza, and I looked down in the alley, and there's four gangbangers surrounding him, and he's down on one knee. So I drop down and land on the back of one of those thugs. He goes down hard and fast. The other three look over, and while they're distracted, he takes one down with a leg whip, another with a bolo, and the last with a batarang to the back of his head."
"So far so good, " said Zatanna, following Selina into the kitchen.
"That's what I thought, too," Selina said. "Then he cuffs all four, leaves a note for the police, and then tells me to go home because HE'S got the situation under control."
Zatanna rolled her eyes. "That's so like him. Refusing to admit what he needs."
"Well," Selina said as she put a kettle on the stove to boil, "I'm many things, but I'm no damned Don Quixote, and I've had it with tilting at windmills. He doesn't want me? He doesn't need me? Fine. I'm gone."
Zatanna took two teacups from the shelf, set them on the table, and said, "He does need you, Selina. He may not admit it, even to himself. But his future is a dim one without help, and he needs at least one person who he can't push away."
"Oh, please," Selina scoffed. "He's just fine. He's always been just fine. He will always be just fine."
Zatanna sighed, set down her cup, and said, "Dnoyeb og namowtac."
All of a sudden, the kitchen dissolved around Selina and she found herself standing on a rooftop in a futuristic metropolis, and she was in her purple spandex.
"Okay, magic girl", she whispered, "where do you send me?"
"Alright," a voice said from behind her, "Are you a good kitty or a bad one?"
She spun around to see a young man in strange variation of Batman's costume. It was black without a cape. The bat logo on the chest was bright red.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
"You must be new in town," he said. "I'm Batman."
"Um, I don't think so," she answered back. "I happen to know Batman, the real and original one you're copying, and he's at least old enough to shave."
"Funny. I never said I was the original Batman," the young man responded. "I said I'm Batman. The original hasn't suited up in my lifetime. Enough with your questions. I'd like an answer to mine. Who are you?"
Selina arched an eyebrow. "You claim you're Batman but you don't know? You have a lot of people here running around in purple like this? Besides, you asked if I was a good kitty or a bad one."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know you're dressed like the original Catwoman. Gotham's got a lot of people doing their own riff on an old name. But the original Catwoman would be old enough to be my grandmother."
Selina's eyes narrowed as she hissed, "Your grandmother?"
"Well, it's been, what, 40 years since anybody's seen her, so that'd be about right."
Selina tilted her head and thought, "I guess it's not where she sent me but when." Slapping a smile on her face, she said, "Okay, you got me. I always the purple leather was cool, and I wondered what it'd be like wear it, and one thing led to another and I'm on a rooftop like she would've been."
"Well think about doing it at ground level," he said. "The wind bursts can catch you by surprise if you're not used to them, and dressing up like a cat doesn't give you nine lives."
He turned to go and she said, "Say, wait, you know the original, right? What's he like?"
He turned back, and replied, "Old. Cranky. Before I came along, I don't think he had anybody around him but a dog, and sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here."
"But what about his family? I mean, all the stories about him and Catwoman. There must've been somebody in his life."
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe if the stories had been real, he might've been happy."
With that, he leapt of the building and soared in the wind.
"Okay, Zatanna," Selina muttered. "I get the message. But how do I get back?"
The skyline shimmered, and then she was back in her kitchen, just as she left it, except that she was alone, and there was a note on her kitchen table. It said, "Talk to him. - Z".
Selina was curled up on her couch watching the news when she felt a draft and look up to see Batman step through the patio door.
"The Bat-Signal is for police use only," he growled. "It is not an answering service to get a message to me."
She shrugged and said, "You're not in the book. It was either that or trip the alarm at Cartier. I figured you'd prefer this."
"Alright," he said. "Your note said we need to talk. So talk."