Chapter II: Alternate Dimension

...

...I didn't know how to comprehend with the situation I found myself in. My world, everything I knew and believed in, is it all a lie? An illusion? Or am I going mad? One minute, I'm a raccoon - yes, I said it, a raccoon - with my gang of thieves and then the next I'm not. The minute I went through that portal, everything changed. When I got a good look at my face, it was different. I was different.

No, the second I laid my eyes on Neyla standing - breathing - in the room, that's when everything just went wrong. Why was it that every one of my enemies managed to rise back from the ashes and take revenge on me and my gang? Especially when they were suppose to be dead? We've taken down Clock-La ten years ago, but somehow she survived.

Nevertheless, I was dragged here, wherever here was anyway. Bentley and Murray couldn't make it past Dr. M despite their efforts. I wasn't surprised, relieved actually, to find myself being surrounded by cops. Being arrested was a different story.

I don't know where I am, or when my gang is coming to get me but I do know that I am never going to look at the world the same way again.

)-(-)-(

An older cop with spectacles and a mustache, who one of the other cops called Gordon, had escorted him to one of the cruisers. Handcuffs were easy to pick lock but Sly Cooper had the sense that it wasn't a smart idea to just take it off and bolt. Not that there were so many cops surrounding him, or that he didn't have a safehouse or a plan B but he was still shocked to the point where he wasn't really thinking straight.

Every pair of eyes watched him curiously or carefully. With Gordon leading him, he spared them no attention and trudged through the snow. He needed to get their guards down but most of the police officers were men and he knew that they had no clue who he was. Even if he gave them his name, they'd get no information background about him. He was, indeed, notorious around the globe and if they couldn't recognize him, then at least Sly would have a huge advantage.

Being a master thief had its perks, and since he returned to the life of crime just last week, every cop in the entire world would've been on the look out for him. But he assumed that the portal he went through must have sent him to another world. One that was very similiar to his except none of the species here were animals. It was as crazy as it sounded, but right now it was the only logical explanation he could make. And if his reliable partner in crime, Bentley, were here he'd agree with him. If Murray were here, he'd beat the crap out of every cop.

It was refreshing to know that cops existed in this world. Of course, what's the fun in stealing without someone there to chase you around blazing bullets at you? Although, they had the upperhand because this world was their territory. Sly was outnumbered and out of options. But not out of time.

He gulped, feeling the pit of his stomach drop, replaying what recently happened in the short two hours. His gang gathered at the Art Institute of Chicago, on the verge of retreiving their lone female member, Penelope, in the hidden basement. After that...well, Sly was having a hard time swallowing the fact that his former enemy, Neyla, was alive. The Cooper Gang had last seen Clock-La, a decade ago in Paris after they defeated her.

But what he didn't understand was why Steven would betray them. Sly, Bentley and Murray kept a close eye on him though. He's not exactly the type of guy who'd strike off as unsuspicious. But Sly wasn't at all surprised when he turned his backs on them and lead them straight into a trap, like how Neyla did. Sly frowned. Evading the cops was something they were prepared and capable of accomplishing, and Sly knew how they operated, previously being a cop himself. Thinking about that selfish, backstabbing, whip wielding English feline, only gave him and his best friends more the reason to be privy around Steven.

Sly's jaw clenched and his fists curled tightly, pressing his nails against his palm. Neyla was the whole reason why his best friend, Bentley was in a wheelchair and why Murray had gone abroad without his two pals. The three were inseparable since they met in the orphanage so it was a tough year for all of them. One that Sly didn't want to repeat by himself.

Back to the discussion before, the fact that Steven didn't talk about any family members, didn't regularly bonded with the Cooper Gang for a short five days, and that he kept giving Sly that look, hinted that he was one of those Cooper-hating gangs. He harbored the look of pure hatred in his intense black eyes that mirrored Clockwerk's in so many ways. But he said he knew where Penelope was taken, however he didn't elaborate on how he acquired such information. And after seeing Bentley's devastated expression, he chose to trust the enigmatic Steven and pray to God he wouldn't betray them. Bentley made sure to do a background check on him but he only found out that he was once personally associated with a man named Henri Ducard. Someone they couldn't get that much info on.

But what really got him perplexed was this. When he had went through the portal in that basment; he had changed. One second he was a raccoon sporting gray fur and a striped tail, and the next he was...different. Not that he was a narcissist, but whatever he was at least he still retained the handsome features he inherited from his father.

But the second he looked in the mirror that Neyla provided, he looked different. His fur changed to a light peach color - and here's the thing, he no longer had fur or a snout - and his nose wasn't black but rather blended in with the peach. The dark area around his eyes formed into a mask that was tied around his head making him look somewhat like a raccoon. His irises remained the color of brownish-gold, and he still had dimples. Under his blue cap, his hair remained a silver, grayish color that resembled his fur. His fur always seemed to warm him in cold temperatures. And right now, he didn't even shiver from the strong currents that blew at his face. As far as his clothes went, he didn't remember putting on gray pants but at least the red pouch on his leg didn't disappear. The long sleeve blue shirt, and knee length blue boots, that his father used to wear still fit him and his belt with the Cooper logo was still there.

Sly still had his keen hearing where his ear would ocassionally twitch at the lightest of sounds, but not attaining his physical appearance as an animal, his ear didn't so much as twitch. His eyes still saw through the darkest of shadows. After all, raccoons were nocturnal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slightly fat officer with a brown fedora stare down at his gold cane as if it came from another planet. It's obvious they haven't seen a weapon like his. His ancestor Slytunkhamen II had invented the weapon which was inspired from the khopesh that was used in ancient Egyptian times. The crosier was, and still is, a trademark weapon in the Cooper family. And even though his cane wasn't exactly something that was passed to every one of his ancestors, Sly was honored to hold such power in his paws. Er, hands.

"Hey," Sly uttered. The officer didn't hear him, so he cleared his throat in annoyance. The man glanced up, questionably. "Don't break it." He warned, watching the man snort and hand his cane over to a woman with dark skin and curly black hair. Gordon urged him into the cruiser that was painted black and white with the typical sirens on top, flashing wildly but the letters on the door confused him.

What the hell is GCPD? PD, obviously meaning police department was easy to figure out, but GC? What could it stand for? Wasn't he in Illinois? Sly contemplated whether he should ask Gordon what that meant but decided against it as he stepped in the car. He'd eventually find out.

The way they were treating him was completely unorthodox. Judging by how they were acting, they must have thought he wasn't much of a threat. A mere suspect. Well, they didn't know he was a master thief. At least, not yet. Sly immediately felt insulted yet amused at the thought but he hadn't committed a crime tonight, besides breaking and entering. If it weren't for his suspicious attire, he would have easily passed off as an innocent bystander for his acting skills surpassed many. Although, it was Halloween, so that must've thrown them off.

Not only that but Sly made it an art to get in and out of buildings undetected. It came with the job after all. He hasn't exactly been in prison as he was "un-catchable", but he did work for Interpol for the past nine years. And if GCPD was the same as Interpol, he'd find a way out.

The female officer, now holding his cane, opened the door to the driver's seat, while Gordon spoke to her in a voice too quiet for Sly to hear. When he was done talking, she gave him a firm nod and slammed the door. She started the car and drove away from the Institute. Seating himself behind the driver's seat, he looked out the window gloomily.

He glanced down to see that he didn't have a seat belt, and struggled to do so with cuffs on. He noticed how they were tight and would most likely leave marks on his wrists after they were removed. The side of his head was pressed against the cold window but he didn't seem to mind or care. His eyebrows knitted together as he squinted his eyes at one of the rooftops they passed. He could've sworn he saw something; someone, standing on the ledge. Watching him.

Sly rolled his eyes, and laughed at himself, causing the officer to give him a strange look in the rearview mirror. He's already experienced strange things in his life to know that whatever he had seen shouldn't scare him. But as the cop he once was, he still felt the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Something funny?" The woman in front of him asked calmly. He focused his attention back to the female officer on the other side of the grille, scrutinizing her reflection. Her sharp brown eyes briefly glanced to stare back at him.

Sly shrugged. "Oh, I thought I saw someone on one of the rooftops." He answered, nonchalantly. "Must be going crazy."

She pursed her lips and he could see that her face hardened as she kept her eyes on the road. Sly didn't pry, but whatever he had seen seemed to unnerve her. "Did...did you see what it was? Who it was?" She whispered to him.

Not missing the way her fists tightened around the steering wheel, Sly replied, "Not really. Whoever it was, he or she looked dark...and looming." She remained silent but her fists didn't loosen, as she continued driving.

Wherever she was taking him made Sly uneasy as he gazed at the murky buildings pass by. He didn't remember Chicago being this ruined or filthy before. The streets were abandoned but every now and then he could faintly hear a woman's screech along with the distinctive echo of a bullet. Everything else was just dead silence that made the blood in his veins turn to ice. The only people who were present were hobos huddling in corners or loitering on the sidewalk. They passed a warehouse that was half blown with one side standing, and a corner store scribbled with graffiti.

Okay, whatever GC meant, it's obviously not the best place you'd want your kids to grow up. That much he could tell. The woman kept her gaze forward acting as if the scene before her was nothing. Before he knew it, they crossed over a bridge where it was much cleaner. Sly immediately felt safer as he witnessed the surroundings change from dirty and unorganized to tranquil and livable.

It had only been a few blocks since they've drove away from the Institute but Sly was already growing mad with boredom. He felt twitchy, his right leg shaking up and down really fast, and he needed to resist grabbing the grille and stare longily at his crosier. He hasn't felt like this since he spent time in "the hole" back in Prague when the Contessa locked him up in the asylum. He would have gone mad if it weren't for Bentley. Sly needed to move. He needed to be running on rooftops, walking on tight ropes, climbing up pipes, and paragliding through the night sky. In short, he wasn't one to sit down and stay still.

His boredom bought him back to the officer in front of him. She wore a trench coat and, if he wasn't mistaken, a suit right underneath. Not being the curious type but also not being the silent type, Sly broke the silence. "So..."

"Yes?" She answered politely, her eyes still on the road.

"I don't mean to distract you but, who are you?"

The woman in front hesitated for a second but then said, "Detective Renee Montoya." Sly's heart skipped a beat and suddenly he found it hard to breath. The shock in Sly's face was hard to control. Renee looked in the rearview mirror for a brief second to see that he instantly paled.

Hold up, Sly. That's not Carmelita. Obviously. She doesn't even look like her. Well, of course that's not her unless she followed me through the portal. Carm would do such a thing, he thought. And if that was her, without a doubt she'd bring him back to Interpol.

She definitely doesn't sound like Carmelita, either. No, that couldn't be her but she bore a slight resemblance to her.

And then it hit him. He was getting arrested. No, duh but someone else was taking him into custody other than Carmelita. Not that she was able to catch him that often. The first and last time she did was their first date. Well, in his view, it was kind of a like a date.

"You okay back there?" Montoya asked, a but concerned.

"I'm fine," He responded. Memories he shared with Carm seemed to be quite a burden for some time. His wish to stay in a stress less and carefree world with Carmelita, Bentley, and Murray was nothing but a faraway dream that will cease to become a reality. On his lap, his fingers curled and he felt his heart sink, wondering if his life will ever be the same.

Montoya didn't look reassured and she began to worry if the man had a bad case of motion sickness. Sly hesitantly said, "It's just that...you remind me of someone."

She blinked. "Oh?"

"Well, just by name, of course. Her middle name was Montoya."

For some unspecific reason, Renee blushed a beet red. She had to admit, the man behind her was handsome but she couldn't let looks fool her. There was something about his tone, though when he said her. Not only did he sound humble and soft, but it was something she didn't ordinarily hear. Criminals in Gotham weren't exactly modest or honest. Perhaps, this man is a bit different than others? She thought.

With indecision still questioning her, she asked, "Is this her your...wife?" As soon as the words flew out her mouth, he flinched, and looked away as if the question physically hurt him. Montoya immediately regretted asking. Yes, he was a criminal...a very unusual one.

They didn't say anything after that but Renee didn't hear the words that barely passed his lips. "She was about to be..." His forehead was pressed against the back of the seat in front of him, and his eyes were closed. Sly focused on his breathing, thinking about last week when he was about to ask Carmelita Montoya Fox - the woman who persistently chased him around the globe when he was thief and the woman who he was, in no doubt, in love with - the most important question that would have changed both of their lives.

The cruiser made a sharp right making Sly hit the door, not that he noticed, and stopped. The building they pulled in front of was much more cleaner and organized. But because it was a police station, it gave Sly all the more reason to be nervous.

Montoya opened the door for him, pitying the man. For all she knew, he could have just been at the wrong place at the wrong time but if he really did cause that blackout then there was no going back for him now.

"Maybe we'll continue this conversation inside."

)-(-)-(

Another sleepless day at work, but having it as an agenda for years was more than enough for Gordon to brush off the drowsiness. Although, the other night Barbara openly talked about filing a divorce, and it began to make him weary. Being the Commissioner didn't help his fatigue either. And the Batman's lastest message only made him anxious. The little sticky note that Gordon found on his desk the other night was simple and to the point. Just like him, except the man wasn't exactly simple.

And if he was planning to make an appearance, he prayed that he would stick to the shadows. There were too many witnesses and someone could easily spot him. The least Gordon could do was wait in the back, farthest from the group, leaning against a car, to see if the Batman decided to arrive, and remain inconspicious.

There weren't that many people to trust besides Bullock and Montoya. But he wouldn't dare tell them about his partnership with the caped crusader. Lord help him if anyone found out.

"Commish?"

Speak of the devil. Gordon turned his head to see Harvey Bullock. The rather grouchy officer held up a white coffee cup to Gordon's face. "Want it?" Jim didn't ask where he was able to purchase both the cup and the coffee, and gladly accepted the caffeine. He inhaled the coffee's scent and sipped, not caring if the taste was bad, and thanked him. "Aren't you going to join the others?"

"No. I figured Barbara would like to see me today." He responded, placing his cup on top of the car, and folded his arms. "But there's something weird about that man."

Yes, it's obviously the day when kids and adults alike dress up and go around their neighborhoods and ask for candy. But considering how dangerous the streets have become, not many children went out. Not even in the afternoon. A few brave souls who volunteered to accompany children every year on such a scary night was nothing but little success. Turns out those who mostly volunteered were the criminals leaving many worrisome, and angry, families. Gordon felt bad for little Jimmy. He wasn't even going to experience the joy of Halloween.

But that wasn't the problem. It was the fact that many criminals were beginning to play dress-up.

Bullock snorted. "This is Gotham. How much weirder can it get?"

He ignored that and said, "I've already assigned Montoya for this case."

"Good. Can't be doing all the work 'round here." Gordon only shook his head and sighed. "Hey, are you going to that party tomorrow?"

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "I already told you that I have to. As the Commissioner, as well as a colleague of Dent, I need to give out a speech to commemorate his legacy." So many people were asking him that question lately, and it began to irritate him. Not only were they oblivious of Dent's true intentions, he would have to lie. Lie in front of the whole police force and Gotham's finest about what Batman did when in reality they all should be thanking him.

And, for some reason, he began to hold a strong disdain for Bruce Wayne. At first, he found it hard to believe that the frightened little boy he met so long ago became this egotistical playboy. His daily life consisted of doing stupid things as if he didn't have a care in the world. Although, another side told him that he was the reason why Coleman Reese, as well as himself, was still breathing. Actions told everything about a person but in this case, it's who you are and what you do when people turn their backs on you.

His thoughts disappeared by Bullock's rough grunt. "Don't worry, Jim. I'll man the fort when you're all gettin' drunk and whatnot."

He let out a heavy sigh and scratched his temple. "Shouldn't you be with them, Bullock?" He said, gesturing over to the group.

The rather grumpy man muttered a, "Yeah, yeah," to him. He stomped over to the group of men who then proceeded into the Institute. College students were being evacuated, some of them were still in their pajamas. Gordon glanced at his watch and was half-hoping that the Batman would show up.

And for the millionth time, he wondered who the Batman was. Gordon didn't know how he could endure through such torment. But then he considered what Gotham would be thirty years from now. The image of chaos, destruction, and Gotham in flames filled his mind. There was a large amount of casualties and amongst the hordes of lifeless bodies, Batman lay in it. And so did he.

After a decent ten minutes, Jim figured it was high time that he wasn't gonna appear. He grabbed his cup and walked around the cruiser to the driver's seat. He took a sip and was about to open the door when a shadow, hunched on the ground next to the cruiser's passenger door, shifted in its crouched position. Gordon jumped and turned to his left to spit out his coffee, making sure it didn't hit the Batman. The coffee wasn't good anyway. He hastily spun his head in all directions to see if anyone was watching.

"After so many years, why does that still surprise me?" He mumbled. Jim tried to make it look like he was talking on the phone by pulling out the cellular device and holding it to his ear.

"Hello Gordon." He replied. Batman's raspy reply was still as intimidating and dark as always.

"It's been a long time." The dark knight didn't respond. Although it was hard for Jim to see, he was sure that he nodded. Not wasting any time, he said, "MCU is already investigating the place, and from the looks of it, there were no casualties."

"What about that man?"

He hasn't changed a bit, has he? Jim thought. "We haven't identified him, yet." He let out with a sigh. "Although, something tells me that he doesn't seem like much of a threat."

"It's possible that he was forced to do it. But don't let your guard down."

Gordon nodded. He wasn't sure what else to tell him. As far as he knew, Batman was in the dark about who caused the blackout. Not only that but the Joker was still on the loose. They were just lucky, and glad, that he wasn't causing any mayhem but they were always prepared.

"Get some sleep." With his phone still in his ear, he stared at him. Batman rose from his hiding spot but, thankfully, all the cops were either inside or they drove off. Gordon clamped his phone shut, shoving the device in his pocket. "You've got a long day ahead of you."

Jim scratched his neck and looked away. It always amazed him how he could worry about the welfare of others and not himself. And because of this, Bane had managed to paralyze him. Gordon would make sure that he'll be there for the vigilante next time. "And you don't?" He asked, concerned. The man didn't respond and he didn't need to look to see that he wasn't there anymore. Yep, he's still the same. He sipped his coffee, and grimaced before pouring out the contents on the streets. He glanced over his shouder although he knew he wasn't there, he gave a small smile to the dark alley. "It's good to have you back."

)-(-)-(

"C'mon. Just take it off, and hand it over." The older cop demanded, impatiently.

Getting arrested was almost everything that Sly had imagined. They took his muggshot where he proudly showed his white teeth and smiled. They took his leg pouch and checked his pockets to see if he had anything sharp. They didn't question him about anything and he was glad but confused at the same time. All the while, his cane was brought somewhere else. He was a bit troubled when they were taking his belongings away but he was forced to comply to their every whim. However, when the time came when they asked for his mask and his cap, he stubbornly refused to do such a thing.

Sly hadn't uttered a word since he arrived, too busy being lost in his thoughts. He stared numbly at the man and said, "Not gonna happen."

"Give it here or I'll-" A hand went on the officer's shoulder, making him turn around.

"I'll take it from here, Officer Higgins." Montoya said, calmly. She patted the older cop on the back as he grumbled something unintelligent and stalked off. Renee put a hand on her hip and looked Sly in the eye. "Sir, please hand over your mask, and your hat."

"Sorry, but I can't do that."

"And why not?" She questioned, with a bit of an edge in her voice.

The little glare that he was receiving didn't scare him at all. He simply returned it and watched her flinch. Sly crossed his arms and leaned closer to her, his face inches from Renee's. He then whispered, "Because it's my dad's."

Montoya silently thanked that the men in the room was paying them no mind, and that it was mostly empty. Sly couldn't tell if she blushed because of her dark skin but he soon saw a light pink on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to."

"In all honesty, you don't." He replied, flatly.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "How about this. I'll hold onto it."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. He highly doubted that but something told him that she wasn't bluffing. His blue cap was his father's, so it meant everything to him. Even the clothes on his back belonged to his dad. Hell, it even smelled like Conner Cooper. The mask wasn't really his but he's never taken it off in public. "Really?" He asked sarcastically. "Are you sure it won't go into some bin like the rest of my stuff?"

"I'll keep my word." Renee stated. If this was Carmelita, she'd force him to do it.

Thinking about Carm made Sly chuckle. Although the events of last week were still fresh in his mind, her beautiful face filled with anger made him crack a smirk. Grinning like a fool, he glanced up to see a confused Montoya tilt her head at him. "Alright, here you go." With that he untied his mask and took off his cap then handed it over.

Renee took a good look at the man that stood in front of her. He was absolutely dazzling. Strangely, however, his hair color was silver and, instead of being flattened, it was spiked up.

Before she could do something stupid, she led him to a cell that was in the corner. The prisoners who were awake howled at them while some snored but they both ignored them. Montoya took out a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

Sly could have taken her right then and there but he hesitated. If Bentley were here, he'd know what to do; being the brains and strategist in the gang. After stepping into the jail cell, his gaze met the ever so supportive Renee who was studying him.

"Oh, what now? Do you want my gloves as well?"

Her forehead creased and she frowned at him. "About that woman you mentio-"

"How 'bout I tell you later?" He interrupted. "You know, when you're ready to interrogate me?

She blinked and her eyes widened. "You've been arrested before?"

"Let's just say, I often deal with police while on the job." He said with a smirk.

As much as it bugged her, she knew she had to wait until later. She shrugged and closed the cell door, making sure it was locked and walked away, leaving Sly to fend for himself. Dramatically, he gripped the bars in a desperate gesture of getting free, and stood there. Montoya disappeared into the hallway and the voices of the prisoners died down.

He was free to think except he didn't know what to do. The thought of his little turtle friend, Bentley came to mind again. Was he really the only person who could keep him out of jail? Apparently, yes. But what would he tell them? Sly already experienced what it's like to be in a mad house and he didn't want to be thrown into one ever again. When the time would come when they needed to interrogate him, he would just do what he did best; think on his feet.

He sighed heavily and turned his back to the bars letting himself slide down to sit on the dirty floor. He pulled up his knees and rested his head on it. He was so tired, confused, and... Just then his stomach growled, loudly. Hungry. When was the last time he ate? Ever since last week, he developed an eating disorder. His stomach clenched, indicating that it was empty but it wasn't the only thing that was hollow.

"Well, well. Hello, handsome."

Alarmed, Sly was already on his feet and looked around his cell. He wondered about the bad lighting in the cramped prison and the fact that there were no windows. He sensed another presence in his cell as he turned towards the voice. A shadow within the shadows moved on the bench. He froze, feeling chills being sent down his body. It wasn't the sultry voice or the physical shape of a female laying on the wooden bench that made him freeze, it was her eyes. They pierced through the dark, glowing a bright emerald. Eyes that belonged to none other than Neyla.

Those eyes were enough for Sly to back up against the cold metal bars and cling onto it for dear life. He didn't even have his cane to protect himself. His chest thumped uncontrollably as his heart rang in his ears. And worst of all, his knees felt weak as he was unable to move. Neyla leapt off the bench and approached him, her heels clicking loudly. His arms shook with anger and fear, but as she stepped into the light, he only grew more confused.

"I didn't even do anything. What? Cat got your tongue?" She jestered, laughing at her own joke. It made sense, being that Neyla was a cat but then Sly blinked. He realized that when she spoke she did not have an English accent.

He looked at her, actually seeing her for the first time. She was fairly tall, probably about a few inches shorter than him. A black form fitting suit hugged her fit body showing wonderful curves with toned arms and three inch black boots. Her collar was unbuckled and the zipper was down to expose her cleavage. Her chiseled features, black eyeliner and luscious red lips along with her seemingly tussled but sexy pixie black hair made her look pleasing to the eye.

Sly let out a sigh of relief as he realized that the woman in front of him was, in fact, not Neyla. But she had a strking resemblance to her. Whether she was Neyla or not, he still kept his guard up.

The attractive woman raised her perfectly trimmed eyebrows and crossed her arms at him. "What's up with you? Did a cat really get your tongue?"

"More like I've seen a ghost." He said, coolly. Her voice was hypnotizing, and so smooth. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the bars. There were many words to describe the sexy stranger. One being sexy, mysterious and very suspicious. Sly knew better than to just throw his trust to anyone. Although, he needed to get his mind off of the whole ordeal he was facing so he asked, "So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She narrowed her green eyes at him. Shifting on one side, she put her bare hand on her hip. "I can't say much but I'll tell you that I let myself get caught."

Sly stood up a little straighter. His chest rose up and down slowly, as he licked his lips. "Seriously?"

"Sadly, yes." The woman said, sounding disappointed. Her head dropped down to the concrete floor, making her layered hair cascade ever so slightly. Her gaze looked up to meet Sly's intrigued eyes. She crept closer to him, almost in a cat-like manner, until she was two steps in front of him. She raised a perfectly manicured hand, and gave him a cute, crooked smile. "Catwoman."

Astonished, he tilted his head back a little and returned the grin. For Sly, this was getting strange. Not only was Catwoman the spitting image of Neyla, but they were both connected to cats. Her removed his blue glove on his right hand and firmly shook her warm hand. "Secret ID, huh? Fine, the name's Conner."

"And I'm guessing that's just an alias." She shot back. Catwoman pulled away, and took a few steps back to look him up and down.

"For now."

)-(-)-(

Bruce parked in the reserved parking spot, and opened the door to his red McLaren. He locked his car, and opened the door into the lobby. Few people greeted him as he smiled, and nodded but he didn't verbalize anything. His first night on going out on patrol after so many years wasn't really what he expected. A little action and even more mysteries that needed to be solved was nothing that he can't handle. But the million dollar question was the identity of that mystery man.

He took a few snapshots and even after arriving at the Bunker, he came up with a flat blank. No criminal record, data records or even a birth certificate. He's not even a citizen in the U.S. or any other country for that matter. It was like he never existed.

And that was a huge problem. He was like the Joker. They knew nothing about him, except that he was insane, or what his motives were. And from the looks of it, they both dressed up like it was Halloween everyday. He only hoped that this man wouldn't acknowledge how much power he has. The power where Batman couldn't threaten him with anything besides his life...which he wouldn't take.

Bruce looked at his diamond-encrusted watch and yawned. Without even looking, he pushed the button to his penthouse and stepped in when the doors slid open. Today would be the last day he would spend in the penthouse. And knowing that Alfred would keep his word, he was gonna sleep like there was no tomorrow. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and basked the wonderful silence.

"Hold that, please!"

So much for peace and quiet. He opened his eyes and was quick enough to reach his hand out to stop the doors from closing in. The shuffling feet of two people resonated in his ears as he kept his head down.

"Thanks, mister." The woman said, a smile in her voice. When Bruce glanced up, he almost choked but he forced himself to stay composed. It was that young lady.

She wasn't alone, however. Behind her was another young Asian, coming off as inches taller than her with shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes. In her hand, she had what looked like to be a notepad and a pen.

Bruce's mind immediately shouted ninja. Intuition told him that that was her. No doubt. Bruce and the female ninja exchanged a brief glance before they looked in opposite directions. As much as it urged him, he wanted to call her out on the spot but right now, he was Bruce Wayne. Not Batman. And she didn't really commit anything illegal.

"No problem." Bruce responded. Elevator music started playing and the two young ladies groaned. After they reached the fifth floor, neither of them didn't press the floor they were destined to go and it took awhile for one of them to speak.

The woman that Bruce saved, glanced at him and asked, "Um, are you going to this floor, sir?" Beside the long haired woman, her friend stayed quiet and kept her face forward.

"Yes."

She looked up at him given her short height, searching for something in his face. Trying to see if she recognizes me, Bruce guessed. "Are you- I mean, do I know you? You look really familiar."

"I'm fairly recognizable in Gotham, so, yes." He said, smoothly. His famous coy smirk flashed at her, confirming his identity. Her smile seemed to widen and she took his hand and shook it enthusiastically. Startled, the young lady clasped both her hands on his left hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne! Saves me the trouble from finding you."

"Oh please, call me Bruce." He quickly detached his hand from hers, not anticipating that.

She cocked her head, pondering on this before nodding. "Alright, Mr. Bruce.

His eyebrows furrowed. Whoever she was, she reminded Bruce of all those fancy movie stars that he dated. "So, what can I do for a pretty young lady like you?" He asked.

She didn't even need to think about it because she immediately said, "I wanted to know if I can possibly work for you."

Although surprised, Bruce's face hardened. But he kept his smile in place. "What do you have in mind?"

"A maid." He raised one eyebrow at her capricious replies. She can't be serious. "You see," She began to explain, "My family has a long history of being butlers and maids. And I thought that it's time I did the same."

Bruce examined her. Just a few hours ago, she displayed a little knowledge of hand-to-hand combat. Although, he could tell that she had much to learn, she didn't look like the dangerous type. But looks were deceiving, he knew that more than anyone. "I'll have to think about it, miss...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How can I forget to introduce myself?" She asked, more to herself. She shook her head at her ignorance, but strangely she introduced her friend first. "This here is my friend, Cassandra Cain. She's a mute." Well, that explains the notepad. Then she extended her right arm, the one that had a cut...that was no longer there. She probably used makeup to cover it up before tending to it but her arm looked as if it were never bruised. She must have used some damn good makeup to cover up such a fresh wound, Bruce thought. "And I'm Leigh. Leigh Pennyworth."

A/N: I own nothing or nobody except Leigh, the plot and the new OC, Steven.

I have nothing else to say but review and please tell me your thoughts. Even if it's critical or harsh, I like to improve my writing.

Until next time... =)