Who knew Bruce and Selina used to have a near-perfect relationship in their young adult years? Who knew Bruce Wayne was so cheerful and full of bright passion in his early crime-fighting days? What happened to cause such a perfect setting to become the Batman and Catwoman we know now? What made Bruce so dark when he used to be so full of light? What caused Selina to turn to crime? This possible AU set in 2012 tells it all.

Prologue

My name, is Selina Kyle. I used to have a family.

When I was just 7 years old, my 5 year-old sister Magdalene and I witnessed something horrific; our mother committing suicide.

My father wasn't a good man when we knew him. He was violent, and to be honest, a drunken bum. I was around 3 when he started getting really bad. He'd come home intoxicated, and start yelling at my mother about stupid things, like dinner not being warm for him. And every so often, I would have the misfortune of seeing him hit my mother. He had his days though. For some occasions, my mother would do something to get him to sober up. Most of the time it was for Maggie or my birthdays, but there were rare occasions where he'd be home, sober, and sweet to us for some reason. Looking back, I could see why mother had fallen in love with him, I mean, when he was sober, you really thought you could see the sweet, tender man underneath that anyone could love. But he wasn't that man. The man my mother fell in love with died the day he picked up the bottle.

8 years my mother had to go through with him being drunk, and one day, she just snapped.

Even at 5, I could see it in her eyes, and the way she was starting to act was just…off. For that last year before…the incident…all she did was avoid my father, and repeatedly, she'd turn to Maggie or I and say "Sorry" as if she was the one who was doing something wrong.

It was the afternoon of my 7th birthday when it happened. We were out at our favorite park in Brooklyn, the weather was nice, and everything seemed fine, except for one thing; my father wasn't sober. It was the first time my father had ever brought a bottle with him on one of our birthdays. I never found out what caused him to find the need to take a swig, but ever since breakfast that morning, the smell of alcohol had gotten stronger on his breath. My mother complained about it, and one thing led to another and he slapped her in the face. But instead of yelling or crying, my mother turned to Maggie and me, said she was sorry one final time, and jumped off the beautiful park bridge, falling into the rock filled river below. In that moment, I realized at once why she had kept apologizing to us; she knew that if she was ever going to escape my father's torture, she was going to have to leave us.

It was fortunate that someone had seen what my father had done, because if the police hadn't arrived in time, he would have started taking his fury out on Maggie and me. When they did arrive, the police immediately restrained my father and stuffed him into the back of the car. I didn't—and still don't—miss him. He got what he deserved.

You might think that the beginning of my childhood was tragic, but trust me, the tragedy had only just begun.

Having no parents to take care of us, my mother's older sister, Miya—who lived in Gotham City—was given legal custody. She used to be a favorite aunt, but after the park, Aunt Miya never took her eyes off us. She became afraid and paranoid that the traumatic incidents my sister and I witnessed would make us go insane and cause us to become little monsters. It didn't help her paranoia when she caught me in my room one night. You see, while my aunt was out at the market that evening, I discovered a box of small knives—most likely for fighting—that appeared to have once belonged to my grandfather. It didn't take long for curiosity to kick in, and I started playing with them. One thing led to another and my aunt came home to find me throwing them at apples Maggie was tossing in the air for me.

It was about a day before Aunt Miya was signing papers to lock me up at 'Sprang Hall Juvenile Detention Center—a home for orphaned, delinquent girls. Yeah, she shipped me away to a 'Child House', and kept Maggie with her. Things must have been too traumatic for my sister though, because about a year after I was sent away, I got word that Maggie had apparently snapped and not only killed Aunt Miya, but also herself. I cried for endless nights after that. I literally lost everyone… but I couldn't continue with the crying… not at Sprang Hall.

My time there was horrid, and that was beside the fact that I wasn't able to make any friends.

Each floor was designated to one RA—more like wardens—who basically could do whatever they wanted to us. Our floor was assigned to Ty Gern, one of the oldest and meanest RAs at Sprang. I'm not sure what it was that I did or what was said about me, but he chose me as the new one to pick on. Every morning began with him waking me up before everyone else—dumping a bucket of ice-cold water on me—and sending me down to make food for everyone else on my floor. But just because I made the food for them all, didn't mean I got to eat the good stuff, or eat first. No, thanks to Ty, I was last to eat, and I basically got whatever scraps the other kids left behind. Oh, and I only had ten minutes to do so before he forced me to clean the entire kitchen… He made me do other chores too. And when I say chores, I mean E-VER-Y-THING. Meals, cleaning every room on our floor, making everyone's beds, clearing out trashcans, and anything else Ty could think of. And I had to do it and put up with it too, or otherwise I'd get a good beating—whips, fists, chains,… basically any punishment Ty chose.

Nights were about the only time I enjoyed at Sprang Hall; everything became quiet and I had no more obligations. And in that quiet, I would dream of escaping and what I would find in the outside world. Out in Gotham. I knew New York well, but after Maggie and I moved to Gotham to live with Aunt Miya, we never really saw the city outside. I barely even knew what Gotham was like, and the idea of its possible beauty haunted me in my dreams. It wasn't until one night—not long after I turned 10—that I decided I had no other choice but to leave Sprang Hall if I ever wanted to go out into the outside world.

It took about a year before I had worked out a clever, but dangerous plan that had taken endless nights to come up with, but by the next night, I finally managed to break out of Sprang Hall's clutches.

Gotham City wasn't at all what I was expecting. Yes, things are technically extremely advanced compared to other cities and states like I had always hear stories about, but everything is just a…mess.

After I escaped, I found myself in a den full of stray cats. Having no place to go, I stayed. The leader of the cats—as I later found out—called himself Marinn, and he and a female cat—Helilah—accepted me and helped me. It took two years, but I learned to communicate with the cats, and upon Helilah's suggestion, Marinn taught me how to be more like a cat—swift, agile, stealthy, etc. I had even mastered the art of hiding in the shadows. I was basically a cat in human form, especially after an incident that caused me to be able to have claws that extended out from under my nailbeds. In that time, I found myself forced to steal whatever food I could find. I was basically—well, really, I still am—a street rat. And because of it, I had a few unpleasant run-ins with a detective—now the GCPD's Commissioner—named James Gordon. He hates my guts.

For a while, I thought it was enough to be like a cat, but seeing the things that happened on the streets made me think otherwise. I realized it was too dangerous for me out on the streets without knowing some self-defense, so I took my problem to Marinn. He told me of a man named Theodore Grant who was an expert fighter and actually used his skills to be a vigilante. The moment Marinn had finished telling me about him, I asked him to take me to Grant to train.

Grant had been a little objectionable about training a 12 year-old girl, but in the end he agreed and taught me how to fight. I became strong and I knew how to throw a good punch. Grant was an incredible teacher, and even taught me how to drive a motorcycle.

When I turned 14, he told me that if I really wanted to be a skilled fighter, I should learn martial arts, and that I should find a man they called The Armless Master. He took some time to track down, but eventually I did. I was surprised that the Master actually had no arms—thus the name… durr younger me—but what had surprised me even more was that he was able to fight like nobody's business. He kicked my ass on multiple occasions. But, he was the best teacher I'd ever had. I trained with him for 3 years. He taught me as much as he could and said I was ready for the world, but just because I had finished with him, didn't mean it wasn't a bad idea to learn other fighting skills. I thanked him thoroughly, and just before I said my final farewell, he gave me an enchanted bullwhip as a gift for all of my hard work.

I quickly realized what I wanted to do with my life, and that was to be a hero. Doing good, I found, actually came easily to me, and once I started, I never wanted to turn to a life of darkness. I started waning off of stealing at 15, and at 17, I had completely given it up. I didn't want any part of the dark life, and I want—and of course, still do—wipe all of Gotham's darkness off of the streets. I knew I wasn't alone too. A man—most likely much older than I—dresses up in a suit and called himself Batman. He is far beyond my skillset, but we are out for the same thing; justice. So, I took a page out of his book and out of whatever I could find in the junk yard, I sewed together a black body suit with a mask that covered the top half of my face. And though I only have a whip—which is nothing in comparison to Batman's arsenal—I do my best to fight.

The whip's enchantment—as I had soon discovered—was it could appear and disappear with the snap of a finger. I'm still not sure where exactly it goes when it disappears, it just does. This was a major advantage.

It has been a year since I began this crusade, and it's been hard. But as tough as it gets, I can promise you this; I will never give it up.