(Catwoman)
She'll admit.
She likes him.
A lot.
Maybe a lot more than what is necessary, but she does like him. And, despite their differences, despite their–um–lifestyles, she appreciates that he's around. Even when she's on the wrong side of the fence, he makes sure she doesn't get hurt.
And she does the same for him.
So yeah, she likes him.
A lot.
But now she's beginning to wonder.
Selena knows from experience–from her birth in the Red Light district to her existence in the upper-crust of society–that all humans have certain switches that should never be touched, switches that have a large, neon sign glimmering above them with a very clear "WARNING: KEEP OUT".
Bad things happen when someone flips one of these switches. Whether it be on accident or on purpose, turning the toggle from 'off' to 'on' blows everything out of the water.
She knows that he has many switches, and though she's barged her way through more than a few locked brain-closets with the "WARNING" sign written on them to experiment with boundaries, there are a few places in their relationship she knows never to go to.
Tonight, standing in the rain with her shoulder bleeding and her vision becoming blurry, Selena realizes that this is one of those places.
Rage is an incredibly volatile thing; under the right conditions it can become a greatly utilized weapon. Under the wrong conditions, well...you get murder. Death, destruction, mayhem–they're the solutions you get when rage is mixed improperly in its basic stages.
It's what's happening now.
Someone didn't mix the Bat's rage formula correctly, and now it's costing him.
And her.
And everyone else in the alley.
This darkness, this rain and the strange paradox of hot and cold welling out from the bullet in her shoulder reminds her too much of the Red Light District, where she saw more than a few of her girls accidently flick the wrong switch and lose everything because of it.
There's Cassie–fourteen-years old, sweet smile, blond-hair and green eyes.
They found her dead in a dumpster after she flipped one man's switch.
Alison–nineteen, tougher than hell and almost as smart as Selena.
Nearly burned beyond recognition.
But breathing.
And then there's Selena herself, twenty-three and laughing as she wrapped an arm around the stranger in the bar and whispered in his ear, "It'll cost ya."
He replied just as softly, "Not as much as it's gonna cost you, honey."
Too many formulas were fucked up in that hell-hole. Too many chemistry equations turned upside down and shaken in and out until they barely resembled what they were originally written up as.
The Bat's formula is getting fucked.
And she knows that if she doesn't stop it now, it'll be too late for both of them.
Lightning cracks above, provoking her into a position of movement. Selena grits her teeth and tries to move towards the barely perceptible white face and black shadow at the far end of the alley.
The distance of twenty-yards closes down to fifteen. Selena fights to keep her gaze straight ahead, not moving from what she knows is the Bat and the Clown Prince, but can't help but look down as another flash of lightning illuminates a thatch of blond hair only inches away from where she's walking.
Selena tries to get a look at the face, but something tells her to stop and keep going.
She already knows who it is.
Elliot, her brain rattles off as if from a file. Doctor Thomas Elliot, graduate of Harvard, chief surgeon of medicine.
Elliot, she tries again, focusing now, Thomas Elliot, close if not best friend of Bruce Wayne.
Elliot. Thomas Elliot. She glances at the corpse and forces herself to push ahead. Dead as a door-nail with a bullet through his head.
Elliot. Thomas Elliot. She starts to pick up the pace. The volatile part of the rage equation.
She's running faster, now, pulling her left hand away from her shoulder and instead reaching for her whip. Already realizing what's happening, that someone did this on purpose to try to pull the Bat down into madness, she pulls out the whip and cracks it loudly, wincing at the pain that snakes through her entire system at the movement.
The Bat stops only for a second and turns slightly to acknowledge her from the corner of an eye.
Another snap, and this time Selena accompanies the sound with a scream.
"Stop!"
Even in the darkness she can recognize that he's not listening. The split-moment in time where he turned halfway to see her vanishes as he shakes his head–no, never–and moves back to his prey, ignoring Selena and her whip and maybe even the truth.
You've been duped, Batsy.
"Batman," she yells, closer now and bringing the whip back up to strike, "you have to stop thi–"
In a kaleidascope of images, all disconnected and fragmented, Selena can only remember him pivoting slightly on a heel–one hand still firmly gripping the Joker's neck–and strike out at her. She dimly recalls taking a step back, balancing, trying to move with the blow, but then pain exploded out of her shoulder and she collapsed to the cement, gasping for air.
Selena's world begins to dim as the agony in her shoulder slowly takes over consciousness, but she still can hear the Commissioner come running up the alley, hear his footsteps slosh their way past her and move towards the Bat.
He draws his gun, but unlike Selena, he keeps a safe distance away.
He talks, but unlike Selena, he keeps himself quiet.
He motions, but unlike Selena, the conviction in his voice speaks deeper.
These two understand each other in a way that even Selena can't, ways in which the "WARNING: KEEP OUT" sign only applies to her.
Selena begins to understand that as the Bat turns away from the Joker–who she prays is only unconscious–and moves towards her. She begins to understand that as she is picked up like a sack of potatoes and carried over a shoulder.
And she begins to understand that when the Commissioner and the Bat look at each other and the Bat says quietly, "Thank you."
The world is fading, but vaguely Selena begins to think back to the opera.
Antagonist, protagonist, hero, villain...roles are switching and lines being reversed as the director plays with them all like puppets.
This time, the Bat wasn't an enemy.
But what about next time?
WARNING: KEEP OUT.
Maybe she should pay better attention to the warning signs.
A/N: Thanks to The Red Jester for your review. It was much appreciated.
:) Enjoy.
