Selina sat on her plush leather couch, transfixed on the dark television screen in front of her. She remembered the first round of this madness…that was five years ago. Lois Lane had been murdered and the world watched as the Justice League backpedaled, heartbroken for their leader. Her death had come at the hands of Batman's most famous adversary, The Joker- a man lacking any special abilities. The world watched as the Justice League responded out of fear, ramping up their methods until they finally decided that they were done dirtying their hands. They proposed a game, one not too dissimilar from what Wonder Woman had witnessed in her Grecian homeland. They set up a grand arena and the world watched as their villains were pitted against each other and made to fight to the death.
Selina had accompanied Batman to Lois' funeral. She had admired the woman for her intelligence and ambition and mourned with the others after her death…and now those very same people- her peers in many ways- had condemned her. Sentenced her to a violent death that the world would gawk at from the comfort of their living rooms.
She remembered the first year. She, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn sat on this very couch, watching on this very television screen with visible unease as The Joker pounced upon Calendar Man as he slept. Harley clapped when Joker took his victory wreath, but even that seemed more like an obligation than an actual display of excitement. The rules were, if you won, you were pardoned for your past crimes, but if you returned to your old life you would again be eligible for League review.
Poison Ivy had attempted to laugh it all off, calling the criminals in the arena "two-bit." She decided the rules simply wouldn't apply to her. As the years went on, the criminals included in the 'games' became higher profile. Black Manta had won last year, and Livewire the year before that. So this year, when the world was alerted that the league would be beginning their reviews, Ivy stole away in the dead of night. The abandonment started Harley on a downward spiral that lead her back into the Joker's arms. Selina hadn't heard from either woman for months.
Catwoman understood why Ivy had gone into hiding, she was a real villain with a rather significant body count on her record. She didn't fault her for leaving, it was necessary. Of course, Selina wished she would have taken Harley with her. Joker's version of Harley Quinn wasn't good for anybody. But Harley was loud and distracting and so Selina couldn't really fault Ivy for that either. Emotionally, it was a tough pill to swallow, but Catwoman recognized the practical motivation behind Pamela's decision to leave the jester behind. Selina had tried to keep Harley away from her "Puddin'", but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fill the hole that Pam had left, and so she was forced to watch somewhat helplessly as Harley fell back into her old habits.
Funny that Catwoman had been so concerned with her friends that she'd forgotten to look out for herself. Not in a million years did she imagine that the Justice League would punish her so severely for her- in the grand scheme of things- inconsequential transgressions. Since when was the death penalty a punishment for art theft? That's what these 'games' were, after all- capital punishment. Wonder Woman had said Batman made a 'passionate plea', but that didn't offer much clout at the moment as Catwoman sat thinking of which weapon to bring into the arena.
Two weeks ago, the illustrious Batman had been in her bed. Bruce Wayne twisted up in her sheets. Still the tortured soul he'd always been, but there was nothing in his demeanor that hinted at her case coming up for review. Selina had run her fingers through his dark hair that was so much like her own and whispered things in his ear as he made love to her...and today…he sat in a room with his colleagues and addressed her coolly as her verdict was handed down.
"Asshole." Selina cursed to empty loft. One of her cats walked over and brushed against her leg in what Selina perceived as an act of reassurance. "I'm screwed, aren't I, Isis?" The cat turned to look at her, blinked, and then meandered away towards her food bowl. "Figures." The brunette grumbled.
You were allowed to bring one weapon into the arena. Selina planned on bringing her whip and hiding her claws within her gloves to beat the system a little. It was mandated that the villains wear their signature costumes, which worked just fine for Catwoman, but she pitied the villains that wore brighter colors. She shook her head, trying to shoo the empathy away. These were not people anymore…most of them were hardly people to begin with…they were her targets, and anyone wearing bright colors was easy pickings. The League didn't tell the selections who would be joining them in the arena, so you couldn't truly prepare for anything. It forced you to put together a general strategy, or no strategy at all, and adjust it depending on who you encountered. Selina hated that. She was a cat-burglar, 'scout, prep, execute.' That was her mantra. This system was severely handicapping her.
The doorbell rang. Selina wished it was Ivy coming to take her to safety somewhere deep in the amazon rain forest, but she knew who it actually was even before peaking at the monitor that depicted her outer door. It was Bruce. In a knee-jerk muscle memory reaction, the brunette raised her hand to buzz him in, but then she remembered the circumstances of his visit and thought better of it. She pressed the intercom instead. "Fuck off." The handsome billionaire looked up at the camera with pain in his blue eyes, but Selina hated him far too much in that moment to indulge him, so she gazed at his face on the monitor for what she knew might be the last time and then turned off the lights. "Goodnight, Bruce. And goodbye."
