A/N:
Socially distance.
Work from home (if you can).
Don't panic. Don't hoard.
Look after each other.
Wash your damn hands!
And do your bit to help others through this, even if its as small as giving your nurse friend the Fanfiction update she's been bugging you for for months.
Stay safe everyone! Don't be like the people of Gotham...Because speaking of which...
Chapter 25: The Cat's Meow
One of his men had already gotten Gleeson out of there. There were questions to ask her, questions whose answers could hopefully point to why this fancy bunch of shooters had come after her and her crew. Questions that could hopefully put an end to this blasted night, at very long last. But there was no need to make Gleeson stay in the room with the corpses of all of her colleagues for that. Even he wasn't that heartless. Questions could be asked anywherr, and so she had been escorted away, away from the scene of bullets and death, to a place where she could hopefully feel safe again.
Harvey Bullock hadn't left the scene of the crime though. He was still stood in there, surrounded by the bodies and the gore, surveying all that had happened in there. The toothpick in his mouth was well worn down now, to the point where only splinters held it in place. Bullock had been chewing at it wildly in here. He was so angered by the sight of all the carnage, so rigorously going over plans in his head of what he would do when they caught the bastards behind all of this. To hell with the rulebook of what cops could and couldn't do. He'd teach the clown how stupid it was to mess with Gotham City and the GCPD.
A flutter of movement around him disrupted him. As he glanced to see what it was, Bullock saw it was the forensics guys already getting in place to manage the scene, take the necessary photographs and take the bodies away with what dignity they could muster. Only during the act of turning to look at those guys did Bullock realise just how tightly he had been holding his hat – removed as a sign of respect for the fallen – within his clenched fist. His knuckles had turned even paler than white. At that sight, he unclenched, putting his hat back on.
He would save that fist for when the clown's face lay before it.
But just as he ceased to clench, a whole new reason to suddenly struck Bullock's ears. It was in that moment that his police band radio decided to begin blaring away again, the Commissioner's voice booming out of it. Booming out with an incredible sense of panic to his tones.
"This is Commissioner Gordon to all officers! The GCPD is under attack! Repeat, armed gunmen are storming the building! All available hands, get back here n–!"
The call didn't even get to finish. Something suddenly cut it off, something that Bullock didn't want to think about. But the message it was delivering was blatantly clear. It also took away a lot of the questions he had for Gleeson, at least to Bullock's mind. This wasn't about her at all. Nor was the other concurrent assaults what they seemed. It was all a distraction, to lure more police hands away from the GCPD. It was all to leave home base vulnerable.
It had all been to get people like him out of the way...
Bullock was already on the move, racing for the way out. And he was getting on the radio himself.
"Montoya, tell me I didn't just start hearing things?!"
"Bullock? No. I wish you had, but I just heard it too. We're already on our way!"
Renee Montoya's reply was short and simple. So was Bullock's own response. There was no need for more words. Not when their own were under attack. And they looked out for their own.
"I'll see you there. I hope you brought plenty of ammo! I think we're gonna be usin' it!"
The man at the front desk hadn't had a chance. The bullet now lodged in his brain had been unstoppable. None of the cops who had swarmed out to meet them on the ground floor had been able to do anything to stop them. And, with all the codes that their employers had all carefully arranged for them to have, it had been easy for them to get through all the locked doors and into the belly of the GCPD.
Ronan Hands, the leader of this troop of mercenaries, was keeping his men driving onwards. They were advancing through the building alright, but they had to be careful. They were all in this for the money, and money was no good to dead men. The plan had clearly worked. With all the rest of the chaos in Gotham City that night, the GCPD was relatively emptied. There were still plenty of cops around of course, but even in their own backyard their numbers were now only comparable to the mercs. And they were left with the dregs, the ones who were all off guard, and all much less armed.
Cops who were one by one becoming nothing more than Swiss cheese.
Still, they had to do this fast. He didn't want to still be around when the Bat inevitably came after them, hence why they had left the drivers to keep the vans running and their eyes open. But the rest of them, the shooters, they were already up to the second floor of the building, having cleared out all the ground floor in a swift attack. They had to do this methodically, a clean sweep. They real target was solitary and high profile, but their employer wanted them to do as much damage as they could on the way up, to really send a message. Attacking the GCPD wasn't enough for that guy. He wanted it to be an unforgettable massacre. Unforgettably macabre. Besides, using the lift would have just made them easy targets when it came to stepping out.
This way, they could take out plenty of cops first before their Commissioner followed them to the grave.
"Onwards boys!" Hands called out as the last cop in the corridor fell, smearing blood all down the wall behind him. "Our paycheck awaits on high! Jim Gordon won't know what's about to hit him!"
The Commissioner was not one to sit back and watch others face the danger. After getting out his call for reinforcements, desperately summoning back all available hands to the GCPD from their duties out in Gotham, he was already racing for the door from his office to join his cops in the Bull Pen, his gun firmly in his hand. What officers there were on this floor were already gathering in there and now Jim Gordon was racing to lead them. Whether that be to hold this floor or go and try to save those on the floors below, he was going to be standing right there with them, shoulder to shoulder.
But Catwoman was yet to follow herself. The gunmen racing through the building – and gunning down just about every cop who crossed their path – had been taking out all of the security cameras as they went. Still, accessing Gordon's security feeds from his computer, Catwoman had been able to spot the pattern as the assailants surged through the building. They were brutal yes. They were deadly. But they were just as determinedly rising, making their way up through the building. Beyond the holding cells of other prisoners, beyond the record rooms and servers, beyond anything of any particular value.
Anything, that was, other than Commissioner James Gordon himself.
It was the only thing that Selina could think of, the only reason why the assailants were attacking as they were. They were stabbing at the snake that was the GCPD, but they were determined to sever its head.
Only then did Catwoman leap up from Gordon's desk, leaping over it with feline grace only to tear her way through the office door with the finesse of a wild elephant. In the big Bull Pen beyond, despite all of the nooks and crannies of individual workspaces and offices, it was easy to pick Gordon out. He was front and centre, showing off his charisma in front of all of his gathered forces. Catwoman didn't fail to notice that he had already managed to track down a bullet proof vest, attaching the last straps as he marched in front of his officers, all equally decked out. Clearly someone had managed a dash to the armoury before they had to act.
"Alright people, I want everyone on me!" Gordon was commanding with a voice full of ferocity but also inspiration and command. "Our house is under attack, and we're not going to let that stand. Its time to show these buggers what fools they are. They've already killed a lot of our friends, our brothers and sisters in arms. Let's go show them what happens to cop killers. This is the GCPD! We've seen the worst of the worst, handled the freaks that emerged from the dark and kept on standing. We will not go down now! Are you with me?!"
A chorus of cheers erupted from the cops before Gordon, all of them already holding their guns tight. Their will was strong even before Gordon had spoken, but now they were definitely ready to follow their leader into war. They were all ready to go, all ready to fight, despite the odds, despite the inevitable deaths that would follow. It was a shame for them then, that Catwoman was about to stop their march.
"Oh boys!" she called over the ruckus. Under the circumstances, due to the current urgency, the cops were quick to settle down. One or two even aimed there guns on her out of sheer tense surprise. But one way or another, all of them were spinning to look at her. Catwoman quickly put her hands up to make sure they didn't shoot, but there wasn't time for her to start explaining everything to all of them. All she cared about was that Gordon was focused on her now. He was stepping back her way, even forcefully lowering some of those guns his officers had pointed at her. With that, she then directed her words straight to him. "You might not want to race out there. You'll be playing right into their hands. I think these guys have a special present with them just for you. Have you always wanted to get yourself riddled with a bullet or a hundred?"
To his credit, Gordon didn't look too startled by that revelation, nor did he allow it to knock him off stride. "So what do you suggest? We run? We hide? We let them win and show the people of Gotham that we can't protect them? Not going to happen. But if the gunners are all coming here... Owens, get on the radio in my office. Call all hands still standing to get up here. Lets not give these bastards what they want. Lets make them come to us. We'll make our stand here."
One of Gordon's officers immediately reacted to those words, racing past Catwoman and into Gordon's office. Catwoman herself though, couldn't help but stare, mouth hanging open in shock. Bravery was one thing, but as far as she was concerned what Gordon had just proposed was completely nuts. Better to live to scratch another day in Selina's book. But then, these were the cops, and she was the robber. They would always think differently to she did. Even if her thoughts were changing, if she was looking for a new purpose, if those thoughts had lead her here to helping her old enemies, her gut instincts were still what they had always been.
"Sir...!"
The voice broke off Selina's train of thought, the voice calling from a whole new direction. Catwoman quickly looked up, up and out to the direction of that call. A cop had just burst through one of the side doors to the Bull Pen. A cop who was panting for breath, sweating. A cop with a blood splatter across his face. A cop who had clearly just escaped a group of the gunmen. Yet it was too early for him to be reacting to the call that Gordon had just ordered be given out...
"Commissioner, we've got trouble!" the cop panted as he ran right up to Gordon's side, panicked enough to forget all decorum. "The emergency stairwell to the Bull Pen... These bastards' aren't only coming up the main stairs! Their flanking us! They already killed Jonny, and Sanchez! Jock and I, we'd both lost our radios. He...he sent me up here, to warn you. Sir, he was holding them off on his own! We've got to get down there! We've got to stop them!"
The emergency stairwell. The old instincts kicked in again as Selina realised that essentially meant that they were trapped. Sure they could go out the windows, or the vent systems, or any other avenue of escape she could create that wasn't designed for humans. But in ordinary people's terms, there were two ways in and out of the Bull Pen. The front door to the corridors beyond, stairs and elevators attached out there, or the fire escape. With the 'Pen far more defensible than those corridors, there was no way Gordon and his men would be venturing out that way, not with them knowing that the mercenaries were coming. And if the stairwell was out too...
But worse than simple escape, if the cops were about to get flanked in here, their chances of defending this place from the mercenaries would be greatly reduced. That was something Gordon couldn't risk allowing. She could see it in his face, could see his desperate planning going through his mind. At least he seemed sensible enough to realise that this 'Jock' fellow was already dead.
But Catwoman could also spot her own opening, an opportunity. As much as he needed the fire escape secured, Gordon needed all of his men here. He needed their strength in as many numbers as he could get. He needed them all to be ready for what was coming. And in the cramped stairwell, full of all its shadowy corners and doorways and a lack of room to move, the mercenaries' big advantage guns would be negated. In there, it wouldn't be guns that ruled. It would be the most skillful fighters who would flourish.
"Right, here's what we do," Gordon began to respond, always in command. "Thomson, Juarez, you both get t–"
"I'll go."
Selina could hardly believe she had actually said those words herself. The rest in the Bull Pen even less so. All the police officers around her were now looking at her in shock, Gordon included. Moments ago most of them hadn't even known that she was there, that she was helping them, that she wasn't with the badguys anymore. To hear her now, volunteering to take their lives into her hands, to risk her own to protect them...
Damn, she really was changing.
"Excuse me?" Gordon voiced the surprise of all in the room. Catwoman was quick to clarify for them, breaking through the surprise of the remains of the old her to press on.
"I'll take care of them. The goons in the stairwell. Come on Jimmy, they'll be expecting cops to come after them. They'll never be expecting me to come scratching their eyes out. And you know full well that I can handle myself against guys with guns. I did it against you boys often enough."
"And what's to say you won't just run off on us if I let you go out there? What's to say you won't just escape and leave our flank open?"
Trust issues. Fair enough, all things considered, but Gordon clearly wasn't ready to believe she had turned the moral corner just yet. Not entirely. Trusting her to help him at a computer screen was one thing. Trusting her with the lives of his people was something else. It was a decent point too. Selina had to admit that getting herself out of there was high on her to do list. She was just managing to resist it. Her changing mindset again. The Bat must have rubbed off on her over the years even more than she thought. And not just in that way.
"Because even though that stairwell is the main way out of here if I wanted to get away," Catwoman began, making no effort to remind Gordon that she hadn't actually taken the stairs to get in there in the first place. After all, so long as he went for it, this was the easiest way to convince him. "I'd need to get through those guys one way or the other, running or no. Now come on, Commissioner. I got this."
Gordon looked at her for one long, drawn out moment. His moustache was literally twitching on his lip as he ran that decision through his mind. Eventually, he came up with something, even if he wasn't entirely happy with it. "Fine. Go. But take Thomson and Juarez with you."
Catwoman didn't argue with that point, not audibly. She just took what she could get. She was still amazed that she was actually doing this. She couldn't go and start giving herself reasons and excuses to back out now. Instead, she simply nodded. Even with a slightly twisted look on her face.
"Then good luck with defending your castle, my liege," Catwoman told him with her usual aura. "Come on boys. Time to let the cat out."
As if to finish her point, she even winked to the Commissioner, but that was it. With that, she turned on her heel, marching away towards the door to the fire escape. She didn't wait to check if the others were following her as Gordon had instructed. Neither did she even glance back as she heard Gordon continue to organise the rest of his men for defending his Bull Pen. Instead, she just took the strides, and barged her way through the swinging door.
And then Catwoman was in the stairwell. And she didn't hang around there either. She quickly glanced down to the lower levels. Just in time to see a stream of gunmen charging up, two floors down, but with no more obstacles in their way. But she only gave a morbid grin at that sight. The grin she bore when felt the rush of action sweeping over her again. The two guys must have wondered what was wrong with her as the pair finally caught up to her, bustling in behind her. Needing to control the plan, needing the thrill, she briefly turned to them first.
"Stay back here boys. I'd hate for you to get yourselves hurt as the grownups start playing."
And then she didn't even wait to hear if they agreed. Instead, she simply leaped, hurdling her legs over the banister as she threw herself over into the abyss.
She landed, heels first right into the chest of the first of the enemies. He was immediately knocked flying, but Catwoman hadn't the time to see how far or how bad. The opposite force had sent her flying too. Good job she was such a good gymnast then. It meant that she was able to arch her back, to manage the momentum, to dictate the fall, leaving her plummeting headfirst back over the railing, only with arms outstretched. Like that, she caught hold of the banister a floor below and on the opposite side of the stairwell, using it as a springboard to generate another leap. At the end of that one, she landed securely on her feet, facing down her foes.
There were five of them. Or at least five left standing after facing down the cops below. That wouldn't last long though. As she stood the first of the five was coming crashing down as a result of her kick, rolling uncontrollably down the stairs. When he finally came to a stop, his head hit the wall with a reassuring crack, leaving him motionless. Good. She was already down to four.
They were all up above her, and they were all already starting to train their weapons her way. There was a delay there though, the delay caused by the surprise attack. Yes, they certainly hadn't expected that.
They hadn't expected her whip either. It was lashing out before any of those guns were in a position to fire. Those guns that were slapped out of their hands by the cracking whip.
A string of squeals sounded as each of the gunmen felt the sting of the leather. Catwoman didn't stop there though. As she spun, she was flying the whip around again, aiming for the ankles of the nearest man this time. As ever, her aim was true. That guy was soon falling as sharply as the other. In fact, he joined him in a heap at the point where the stairs turned.
It was a method that was working, and so Catwoman went for it again. However, this time the mercenaries were ready for it. The target of the latest blow stretched out a powerful forearm, allowing the whip to lash around it and bind itself there. Then, with a lot of brute strength, he tugged.
Catwoman tried to hold on to the whip, but there was nothing doing. In fact, it simply dragged her hard against the banister, with her just catching herself before she got dragged over to the abyss again.
Unfortunately, by the time she had herself steadied, at least one of the gunmen was gathering up his weapon all over again. Lucky Catwoman knew that she could still take him. Unluckily, she never had the chance to. The cops Gordon had sent with her, the ones she had told to stay where they were. She had told them that for good reason, knowing that in these cramped confines they'd only get themselves killed, and perhaps her with them. And now, now when they'd thought foolishly that she was in trouble, now they'd gone and done something rather rash.
They were racing in, all guns blazing. Credit where it was due, the raging gunfire that they unleashed put several holes firmly into the chest of that one merc who had been moving to shoot Carwoman dead. Unfortunately, in the act both men had completely given away their positions. The fact they had guns of their own, it only made them the targets. The cracking of gunfire filled the air for the next few seconds. By the end of it, three more dead bodies lined the floors of the GCPD. And two more of them were cops.
But while their actions had been foolish, albeit brave, it did make Catwoman's remaining job a damn sight easier. She had moved instantly, trying to get in there before the bullets, but she had been too late. It hadn't been too late to put an end to the fighting though. Leaping up, she landed her boots on the banister, once again using it to push herself off and hurl herself over the gap. She came crashing hard against the last remaining mercenary, knocking him to the floor. Still, she wanted to be safe. More, a strange feeling was erupting inside of her, an irresistable urge. She wanted to avenge those to cops.
Claws out full, she gave that merc some scars he'd never forget. Then, with a flamboyant twist of her body, she sent her elbow crashing down hard against him. By the time Catwoman had herself pushed upright again, the final mercenary was out cold.
As she stood though, Catwoman was forced to take in the sight around her. Bodies, both unconscious and gone for good, were scattered around to the point where she was stood on just about the only free piece of floor going. Yeah, Batman definitely needed to hurry up and take the Joker out. Even back in her most criminal days, Catwoman knew that atrocities like this couldn't be allowed to stand.
Still, it wasn't the bodies that she was really looking at. The stairway was now clear. How long it would last was anyone's guess, but for now it was clear. And that meant Catwoman was faced with a choice, a choice synonymous with who she was. The growing goodness and the resilient self-serving nature. There was no doubt what the heroic thing to do now was. It would be for her to rush back up to Gordon, to make sure he survived the mercenaries all coming his way.
But then the way was also open for her to get out of there. She had played her part already. She had tried. She had done a lot to help save the day tonight, from Thorne to Penguin to the GCPD. She had earned the right to get away from the bad men trying to kill her with all of the cops, to get herself back home to Isis and the nice diamond collection she had on the go.
Right...?
They heard them coming. All of them. They all heard as the army of mercenaries surged up the various stairwells into the main corridors. They all heard as the bringers of death drew nearer to the main entrance of the Bull Pen. They all heard as the fight for survival drew ever nearer to being upon them.
But they were all ready. Gordon had ensured it. As soon as Catwoman had disappeared, he had his men and women organised, sorting out their defensive positions all around the 'Pen. They all had some form of cover, be it behind desks, partitions, whatever they could find that wouldn't leave them immediately in the enemies line of sight, while still giving them the opportunity to fire back. Wood may not do much to stop a bullet, but going unseen certainly could. Gordon himself was central to the whole affair, literally. He had himself behind the desk nearest to the door to his office, at the back of the 'Pen and dead centre between left hand wall and right. It also gave him a perfect view of the main entrance down at the far end. The perfect view through which to fire.
The footsteps were drawing nearer, but Jim didn't need to bother sparing one last glance around his officers to make sure they were in place. He knew them. They were all cops. They were all Gotham City cops. With all the hardships it took to get them this far, with all the required moral upstanding required these days, with Gordon's own personal drive behind them... To wear that badge, these men and women would stand with him to the end in the pursuit of what was right. And allowing these guys to bring down the GCPD, to allow Gotham to see them as weak exactly when they needed to see them as strong, was not right.
And so Gordon held his gun tight, staring down at that door, just waiting for it to fly open and the army of foes to start swarming in. But he never got to see it.
There was the crash of the door as it has practically rammed off its hinges, Gordon saw that much. But then all he saw was the flash of light, the ringing in his ears. Everything was white and tingling. Instantly Gordon understood why. These mercs hadn't just swarmed in wildly, and they were here well prepared. Flash bangs. They had just used damn flash bang grenades, momentarily taking the senses out of play of all in the Bull Pen. And there wasn't a damn thing that Gordon or any of the other cops could do about it until their senses cleared.
But there was nothing stopping the mercs, shielded from the grenades for the most part out there in the corridor. As Gordon's senses slowly came back to him, he saw that the attacking mercenaries were already starting to swarm the Bull Pen. Even worse, he saw that some more of his people had already lost their lives because of it.
But by that point, he could see again, or at least enough to aim. Which meant he could also start shooting back. His remaining people were all doing so too. The invading mercenaries were soon racing to cover of their own. And the Bull Pen had suddenly become a cacophony of gunfire, a storm of bullets raging through it one way and the other. True chaos had erupted as the two halves of the room gave everything to kill each other.
There was no stopping to give instructions, no guiding the force into a single unit for the battle. There was only the fight. In a lot of ways, it had become every man and woman for themselves. Yes, Gordon knew that his people would still have each other's backs should the chance arise, but if they wanted to survive themselves they had to focus on that, on defeating any and all enemies close enough to them to cause an immediate threat. That was the priority. Defeating the rest of the mercenaries was secondary. And that way, hopefully, they could live to tell the tale of this day.
From his central position, though, Gordon himself could see all. He could see how the fight unfolded. And he could already see it wasn't good. Despite all the encouragement, despite all the motivation, despite all the desire and ferocity and skill and need, if something didn't change fast, Jim Gordon's well-honed eye could already see that they were going to lose this fight.
What they needed was help. Outside help. There weren't enough cops left in the building even before the bullets had started raging, not with so many needed out on the streets. There definitely wasn't enough left now that those mercenaries had already done so much damage. If they were to make it through this then Gordon and the other survivors needed their allies to get back here, now, just as he had so urgently issued over the police band. Yet there was still no signs of Bullock, Montoya, any of them. Gordon and the rest were still on their own.
And there was no sign of Catwoman rushing back to his aid yet either. She must have cleared that emergency stair well by now. Must have. Otherwise Gordon and his men would be the subjects of an irresistibly deadly flanking manoeuvre already. And yet Catwoman wasn't back. #
She hadn't changed at all...
And so it was up to them, at least for now. They had to try to hold the bastard's at bay, hold them and buy time for those cops racing back from the field. In the meantime, and if those guys and gals didn't get there quickly enough... Well, if Gordon and the rest were going to go down, they would damn well go down fighting.
It was because of that sentiment that he ducked his head around the corner of his already holed cover, firing off a couple of blind shots over the parapet to give himself the second to make it a clean glance. He didn't need a full second to take in the most important sight though. Two of Gordon's best cops were fully engaged with three mercenaries from one side of the room to the other. The cops were both to Gordon's right, hunkered behind the partitions of the Bull Pen, using them to stay hidden from their opponents in the left corner by the door. Gunfire was well and truly being traded between the two groups, but that wasn't the biggest problem. The other two mercenaries sneaking up behind Gordon's people were. And they hadn't even seen them coming. There was no way that they could defend themselves.
But Gordon had no clean shot. Not from here. Not without putting himself beyond the realms of his own cover...
No. There was no question there. There was no decision to be made. The action that Jim Gordon had to take was obvious. It was the option he had always taken, the option he always would. It was simply what he had to do. He could only hope that he wouldn't suffer because of it. Or that Barbara wouldn't have to suffer because of it. But there was nothing else for it.
Bravely, nobly, and after only a single deep, steadying breath, Gordon threw himself fully to his feet. He spun as he did so, drawing his gun level with where he knew it needed to be before his eyes could even look there. Then instantly, he fired. Not once, not even twice. He fired enough until he was sure that those two mercs sneaking up behind his people would not be getting back up again.
He hadn't intended to linger up there though. He knew that as soon as he presented himself like that, he'd be a target for every other mercenary gun in the room. Already he was beginning to throw himself back down behind the relative cover of the desk. The problem was, he wasn't as quick as he used to be. He wasn't as quick as these young, bloodthirsty killers.
The bullet tore through him, making him hit the deck all the quicker. He yelled as he did so, and not just from the impact as his spine and the back of his head crashed against the floor. His grip on his gun had been lost in the instant pain. Hand now free, it had instinctively shot to the point of impact, and just as quickly he was feeling the blood. It took a second to get his glasses back on right before Gordon could look down and see the damage.
Right in the shoulder, only millimetres away from the protective lining of his vest. He was bleeding alright, but at least it didn't seem like any organs had been hit. Better, from the look of it it was a clean through-and-through. But that did absolutely nothing to help with the pain. Or the fact that Gordon was now down and unarmed.
And had a mercenary sneaking up on his own position too. From the deck, Gordon could see the man now. How he'd managed to do it past all of the cops and all of the fighting, he hadn't a clue, but the merc was definitely there. Practically stepping out from within Gordon's own office behind him, the man was stepping forward, horribly victorious smirk on his face. His pistol was held at the ready, pointing down at the ground. The ground where Gordon lay.
The message was clear.
This man was going to enjoy killing him.
They were flung as soon as she saw it. Before that man could pull his trigger, the connecting rope struck firmly against his neck. The centripetal force bound it there, wrapping it around tight. Then, the weighty ball at either end of the rope spun, the circle getting ever tighter as the rope wound more and more around his throat. Soon they had nowhere else to go other than smashing hard against the mercs head. Hard enough to knock the guy out cold.
Still hardly able to believe she had come back here when she had had the chance to get out of this party, Catwoman darted forward. She kept low all of the way, but just a second of seeing the fun of the Bull Pen had been enough. She had known instantly what she had to do. After all, she hadn't just made the decision to come back here. She had, to her utter amazement, made the decision to play the hero and come back for the very people who had so often tried lock her away. And now, she had one almighty priority; save Jim Gordon.
But taking out the man who had been about to put him down was only the start. This wasn't the OK Corral, it was the Alamo. It was Little Bighorn, but Gordon could not be allowed to play the role of General Custer. Gordon had talked to his men about how they couldn't let the GCPD fall, that they had show the people of Gotham that they could still protect them, to keep up hope against whatever the Joker was about to throw their way. As heartless as it was, the simple fact actually was that as individuals most of these cops didn't matter. As individuals, there was only one man who singlehandedly symbolised the entire GCPD; the Commissioner himself. He was the figurehead in this. His was the name that would be on everyone's lips.
And if he could survive, then so could hope.
Yet he had already taken a bullet, and from the way the fighting in the Bull Pen was going, he would have taken a damn sight more if he stayed here and fought on like a brave lunatic. Luckily there were enough other cops in there still fighting – for now – to be able to cover off the bad guys. Luckily that bullet in Gordon's shoulder would also mean that he wouldn't be able to fight Selina off much either.
She ran, yet she ran low,. Still all garbed in black and utilising the shadows of the rooms' cover, that meant she was at Gordon's side without any of the enemy even realising she was there. Before even Gordon himself could properly register it, she had him hoisted up and draped on her via his good shoulder. Gordon did still have enough cop reflexes in him to gather up his gun as she did so though, even if he didn't start pointing it anywhere yet. He was just getting over his own shock of her actually being back there by the time she was dragging him clean out of the room, back into that fire escape. She made it just in time, a few bullets zinging past and into the walls behind her as she ran.
"Catwoman...?" Gordon finally panted once the door swung shut behind them, amazingly blocking out a lot of the barrage of noise from in the Bull Pen. "What are you doing? We have to go back! Those men and women are my responsibil–!"
"And now you're mine," Catwoman firmly told him, cutting him off, her voice making it absolutely clear that she wasn't taking no for an answer. No more games. The time wasn't right for them anymore.
However, the next words out of Selina's mouth were simply expletives. She had hoped that after taking on those thugs with the guns, she'd bought them more time to use this emergency exit for its intended purpose. However, now that they had emerged back in there, she saw that they were already too late for that. Some of the mercs must have tired of the barrage of the Bull Pen. Some had doubled back. Looking down, some more armed thugs were now racing up the stairs to meet them.
So much for going down then. And they couldn't go back either. Which only left one way to go.
"What are you doing?" Gordon demanded as Catwoman charged onwards, only this time heading up the stairs. To the roof. Towards the toy Commissioner Gordon so very famously kept up there.
"It's time to call in the big guns," Catwoman simply told him. Climbing the stairs was hard going carrying the weight of two on a frame built more for agility than strength. Still, in no time, she was kicking down the door, bursting them through and out into the cold, open, night air. She couldn't close it behind them quickly enough though, immediately bolting the thing to, dragging a crate she spotted nearby straight over to block it further. Still not stopping, she recaptured Gordon and got them both clear and behind a nearby solid, metallic air vent.
It was just in time too. Barely a second later, heavy shoulders were ramming against the other side of that door trying to get it open. Despite it being thick metal itself, the sound of gunfire against it was soon following too. Damn. That meant those mercs that had been coming up the stairs had spotted them and continued to give chase, just as Catwoman had feared. Still, at least her barricade ought to buy them time. Hopefully, enough for a certain someone to check his precious skyline.
"Now Jimmy, you wait right here while mummy goes to turn on the lights, okay?" Alright, so the games and the humour hadn't been gone for too long. The point was still valid and serious though.
"Looks like I don't have a choice," Gordon grumpily replied, before nodding in the direction of the device. Catwoman had already managed to pick it out on the rooftop, mind. Because there it stood, so symbolic, so proud. So desperate... Gordon's hand was clutching his gun tighter now as well, as if in fear of the door to the fire escape bursting open at any second. "It's all powered up and ready. Just flick the switch on the side and he'll come running!"
"Gotcha. I'll be right back."
And then she was away, going at full speed. Knowing the Bat, he probably already knew about the dangers here. Hell, he was probably already on his way. But if there was ever such a thing as a shining beacon of hope, that searchlight was it. At least it was in Gotham City. And right now, the people in the GCPD needed hope. The people needed the Batman. And who knew? Perhaps shining his light in the sky would make him realise just how bleak things were and how much he had to hurry.
Selina was skidding to a halt beside the searchlight in no time. From there, it only took a quick scan to pick out the switch that Gordon had referred to. A big one, she gripped it firmly in her hand and pulled.
Instantly she could hear the whining of the electronics, the sparking of the bulb. Then, just a few moments later, she had to throw one clawed arm up across her face to stop herself from being blinded. As she adjusted to the brightness, the faint smile caught on her lips. So that was what it felt like to be seeing that light from this side of the fence. Inspiring.
For the Batsignal was now lighting up the night sky once again.
Now they just had to hold out long enough for Batman to get here. Speaking of which, he may have his gun, but Catwoman wasn't about to abandon Gordon now, not after having forced herself on to protect him in spite of all of her old instincts. She had to get back to him, to ensure he stayed protected.
But she barely made it a few steps back to him before the sound halted her in her tracks. It came from nowhere, unexpected to the point it caught Catwoman off guard as it came piercing through the air. Slowly she turned as she finally cottoned on to where it was coming from.
Below, in the gap between the GCPD building and its neighbours. Below, and rising.
It was rotors, helicopter rotors. Rotors getting ever closer.
A chopper was coming in.
For a second Catwoman dared to think this was a Police Helicopter, the back-up Gordon had so desperately been summoning before finally returning to home base. That was a thought that delayed any motion Catwoman could make in response. It was also a thought that was soon lost to the memory of hope as the helicopter finally started coming into view over the threshold of the building.
Those were no police markings on that thing.
Instead, there was a giant, red lipped smile painted on the front of it below the glass. A smile that could only signal one thing.
"Oh, shit..." Catwoman muttered as realisation struck. This definitely wasn't reinforcements. This wasn't even more mercenaries. With that decor, this could only mean one thing. The next moment, as the helicopter swung to be side on to the building, Catwoman caught a glimpse of exactly who it was, confirming that theory exactly. Harley Quinn was in there, sat right up front with the pilot. More noticeably, though, was the man leaning out the opened doorway.
It was the Joker.
The Clown Prince himself was there, a grin splattered on his revolting face even broader than the one painted onto his ride. The Clown Prince, manning one hell of a machine gun built into the helicopter's side. A machine gun he was looking more than ready to fire.
And fire straight at Selina. Out here, a few steps away from the Batsignal. A few steps away from any cover.
Just like a Cat caught in the headlights.
"Hoo hoo, would you look at this!" Joker called out over the whipping winds, clearly enjoying the sight before him. "You know, they tell me that you cats have nine lives. Nine! Well, if that's the case, I'm sure you'll not mind too much if I take one!"
She did mind. She most certainly did. With Joker bothering to stop and, well, joke, she was able to move first. But not by much. That machine gun looked heavy duty, so she doubted as to how long the various air vents and the like on the rooftop would protect her, but they were something. Acrobatically flipping so as to present an even more difficult target, she was on the move only fractions before the sound of heavy machine gun fire began filling the air around her. She could even hear as it began pummeling the rooftop all around her as Joker maniacally traced her motion. But the safety of cover was almost within reach...
Catwoman crashed down behind it. Ceasing the flip, she flew out of the helicopter's line of sight and fire and behind another vent. Gordon was still distant, but in view. The only thing was, she hadn't stuck the landing anywhere near as well as she had planned, nor anywhere near as well as she had done over a thousand times before. As she collapsed against the metal, Joker's gun still firing wildly around them, she glanced down, immediately understanding why.
It was a miracle she hadn't felt it when it happened. Must have been something to do with the adrenaline. Or perhaps it was just the beginning of feeling nothing at all.
For there were at least three holes now smothering her torso. Three holes with blood now seeping out. Holes that were already leaving her barely able to breathe.
She had been hit. Catwoman had been shot, multiple times, all to the torso, and she hadn't the protective vest to potentially save her as Gordon did.
That was why she hadn't made that landing. It was her body already shutting down on her.
"Oh," was all that Catwoman could say as that realisation struck her. Or at least that was what she tried to say. Blood was already starting to pool into her lungs, her airway, her mouth. All she could do was spit some of it out.
In the distance, she could still just about make out Gordon. He was looking over at her, horrified, frantic. Yet somehow, that gave Selina the will to use her last ounce of strength for one last smile. At the start of this night, she had been thinking about how much she had been looking for a new purpose in her life, how being a master thief had no longer been enough for her. Over the course of the evening, with Batman at her side, she had slowly but surely started to see the light. She had started to see the virtues of being good. She had started to understand what Batman's point had been over all of these years. And she had finally started to act on it. If there was a good way to go, doing so in the fight to save lives was probably it.
And, despite the fact that fate decided they could never be the item they had once appeared destined to be, it comforted Catwoman in the end to know that Batman would have been proud of her last few moments.
It was a thought she clung onto right to the end, before she finally succumbed to the wounds the Joker had inflicted. It was the thought she desperately used to see her through all of the pain, before all there was before her eyes was tunnel and the white light at its end.
And then there were no more thoughts. Then the smile slowly faded, both her face and body slumping where they were, leaving the smear of blood behind upon the vent, and a lifeless heap at its base.
Selina Kyle, the Catwoman of Gotham City, was dead too.
