I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.
Thanks for all the wonderful feedback, I'm so glad people are enjoying the story.
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XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer
Caterina lifted the glass to her lips again, a far-off look in her eye. Dreary piano music floated from the corner of the bar, as a mediocre musician played a lazy version of 'Hey Jude'.
She avoided the gaze of the man beside her, who seemed intent on capturing her attention. After a while the creepy smile ran away from his face, and Caterina sighed as the overhead television blasted the recent news updates.
"-and security staff from Arkham Asylum have yet to release the information regarding the apparent 'fatality in custody'. Experts are now questioning the Asylum's capability to harbour these disturbed individuals, as Caterina Morgan was in solitary at the time. Warden Jaidev sat down with us to explain the situation-"
The television cut off abruptly, possibly due to the fact that Cat fired a bullet through the screen, but technology failures were so finicky.
"I hate that man." She hissed, probably the most humane comment she could have voiced. Cat took another deep swig from her glass, pointedly ignoring the bartender and customer's horrified stares.
Cat heard the stool beside her creak as Yvonne lowered herself. She didn't acknowledge her, and she merely emptied the alcohol between her lips.
"Caterina, the League are all waiting in my apartment, we need plans."
She nodded lazily, and finally slid her gaze over to Yvonne.
"Gimme a second."
Yvonne placed a concerned hand on her shoulder, deeply gazing into her eyes. "Cat…This is all going pretty fast, and you've been in that Asylum for 3 years, maybe we should talk?"
Cat laughed hollowly, staring into her empty glass. "For 3 years, I've done nothing but talk, it doesn't help. But this," She brought her handgun up from behind the bench, showing it to Yvonne. "This helps, really."
Yvonne blinked and glanced away, biting her lip in concern and contemplation. It was a moment before she pulled a small pouch from her jeans and slapped it on the bench.
"Here," She slid it over with a perfectly manicured finger. "If it all gets too loud, this should help."
Caterina pulled the drawstring and peeked into the pouch, wrinkling her nose as a strong scent wafted upwards.
"Yeah, it's got a bit of a bite." Yvonne laughed, as Cat tentatively lifted a pinch of the dried herbs within. "It's great tea though."
"Uh, thanks." Caterina pocketed the tea leaves and half smiled, half grimaced. "Thanks for the…tea."
Yvonne nodded, content. "It's Bolivian large leaf black tea, incredibly good at calming the nerves, seriously tasty, not exactly grocery store standards. I've found it really helpful after…"
She faded off, her gaze falling to the floor. "M-my wife." She cleared her throat and managed a thin smile. "Anyway, I think people ignore the benefits of plant-based products."
Cat studied Yvonne's expression. Her mess of red curls tumbled neatly over her shoulder, her light turquoise eyes framed by pleasant brown makeup. It was easy to forget that Yvonne Huntley struggled with anything, she was, in all sense of the word, perfect.
"Caterina…I need to ask you about something Dr Crane mentioned. He said he helped you?"
She shrugged in response, running a hand through her own head of platinum, black-dipped hair. "I…I guess. He helped me get over…he helped me deal with it."
It was obvious that Cat didn't want to provide any more details, and Yvonne didn't want to push her.
"Well," Yvonne stood up, rolling her shoulders back. "If you really trust him, then I do too, come on let's go."
She waved cheerily at the bartender, who was still staring at Cat in paralysed fear. The two stepped out of the small bar and onto the quiet street.
"Who's our first target?"
In response, Caterina lifted a photograph between them and pointed to a solitary figure.
"Jay Saussure." She remarked, resting the tip of her index finger on the man's face. "He owns the biggest paper and packaging company in Switzerland, 'Papierflieger'. He notoriously was involved in one of the biggest scandals in Swiss history."
Cat smiled suddenly, and her walking pace slowed. "Not that the Swiss are known for their scandals. Saussure had multiple affairs, but always got away with it. He got his most recent sleaze sent to a nuthouse to avoid persecution, well, she killed herself 2 weeks later. It seemed to surprise people that an asylum wasn't exactly 'five-star'."
Yvonne glared at the photograph, at the fat man with thinning red hair and a whiskered chin. "Right, so, we kill the bastard?"
Cat raised her eyebrows and smiled in surprise.
"Yvonne, dear friend," She tutted. "So bloodthirsty? Our main goal is his 10.9 billion in worth, I'm sure he won't mind opening his account to us. But ultimately, yeah, the bastard will be killed."
Bruce switched off the centrifuge and pulled out the two cylindrical containers. The contents were dark, soupy liquids that shone red in the small desk lamp. He dropped the glass cylinders in the analysing compartment, and coded the computer to run a thorough analyses.
"Sir?"
He spun suddenly in his chair, the squeak bouncing off the surrounding walls. Alfred was waiting at the entrance to the mansion, regarding the bleak batcave in mild dislike. "Sir, dinner is waiting in the main dining room."
Bruce nodded, running a hand through his hair and feeling it stick up at odd ends. "Thanks Alfred, I'll be right up."
A soft ding from the computer drew both of their attentions, and Alfred sighed deeply.
"Mr Wayne," He walked over to where Bruce was sitting, and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "I think…I think it's time to let it go." He meant 'her', but neither of them needed to voice this, the implication hung in the air like fog.
"One more, Alfred, I promise." Bruce turned back to the computer, where the results from the analysis were displayed in a detailed table. He read through the contents, his heart thundering in his chest. Caterina's death wasn't heavily inspected, the authorities and medical staff seemed far too comfortable in naming it an apparent suicide with no further effort.
Maybe Bruce wanted an inconsistency in the data, maybe he needed it.
A figure in the table stood out, a line titled 'TTX'.
"Tetrodotoxin?" Wayne sat back in the chair, drumming his hands on the metal desk in thought. "Why would she use tetrodotoxin?"
"It is more lethal than cyanide." Alfred piped up, leaning down to read the table. "She would need a smaller dose."
Bruce bit his lip, trying to revise everything he knew about pufferfish poison. He had once fought a man who had infused a blade with the neurotoxin.
"Paralysis…eventual respiratory failure." He muttered. "Why would Caterina use that. Why?"
He pulled a calculator out from the desk and began to punch in a series of numbers, muttering to himself quietly. "8 micrograms per kilogram is the lethal dose…let's assume that Caterina is, forgive me, about 60 kilograms, at most. That would make the lethal limit at…0.00032g."
He rechecked the number, and his heart sank. It was too small; the toxin was too deadly.
"Did you say 0.00032 grams?"
Alfred pushed the reading glasses further up his long nose and squinted at the table. His low tone snapped Bruce's immediate attention.
"Yeah, why?"
He too looked at the computer, analysing the table carefully. The section labelled 'TTX' was highlighted red, signifying that it was an imposing chemical, and moving along the row gave the figure…
"0.0002?" Bruce swallowed, his heart stopping for a moment, he was afraid to blink, thinking that if he looked away for a moment the figure would jump up to verify Cat's death.
"Oh dear." Alfred pursed his lips, glancing sideways at Bruce. "Tetrodotoxin, mistakenly lethal, but really it causes the paralysis that would mock-death. I don't suppose I can talk you out of this whole obsession now."
Bruce was trying, and failing, to hide a smile.
"She's alive." He breathed, leaning his head back onto the chair. "She made it."
Despite himself, Alfred also smiled and stepped away from the computer. "Now, Sir."
Bruce looked up with tears shining through his eyes.
"Perhaps, now, dinner?"
Cat pulled the heavy roll-on behind her, its wheels spinning heavily against the marble flooring.
"I'm in the building." She muttered into her com unit, subtly adjusting the hair behind her ear to excuse her actions. "How's the elevator coming?"
"Eh."
Cherry's uncomfortable reply wasn't reassuring. "It…it should be ready on schedule, stick to the plan."
Cat sighed deeply, anxiety speeding her heartrate and coating her palms in sweat. "Could you speed things up Cherry?"
There was a loud clang, as metal met metal, and Cherry swore loudly. "Dammit Cat," She hissed. "I'm a maniacal engineer-arsonist, I'm not a miracle worker."
Douglass snorted laughter, but he quickly stifled it with a fake cough.
"I don't get it." Cat was tapping an anxiety-induced rhythm on her thigh.
Cherry laughed, before squealing in fright as a burst of pressurised air erupted. "Cat, would it kill ya to watch a movie?"
"I'm sorry, I thought we were working a job, not discussing sports at a bar." Cat murmured sarcastically.
"Miss Morgan, you should be working with people you can rely on." Came Douglass's slightly whiny remark.
"Keep this line professional." Cat walked up to the man behind the front desk. "All flirty banter will be moved to line 3."
Both Cherry and Douglas scoffed loudly and began to defend their mutual dislike, but Cat merely smiled and looked up the man.
"Juliet Montgomery to see Mr Saussure."
The man sniffed and looked down at his scheduling tablet. "Yes, Ma'am, 12th floor."
"Okay, Mr Saussure is on the move." At Crane's statement, Caterina quickened her walking pace.
"Shit." She tried her best to seem calm, smiling at a passing businesswoman. "Yvonne, I'm not in position. I think we'll need that distraction."
As expected there was muffled protest from her-end, but her footsteps surrendered the fact that she was approaching Saussure.
"Sir, My name is Angela Isley…"
And Cat droned out her breathy tone, already knowing how detrimental this was to Yvonne's dignity.
"Huntley's got a lot to learn." Cherry remarked quietly, though her voice was slightly obscured by the clanging of metal tools. "Never use a name linked to you."
"Isley?" Cat turned down the final hall, and saw the golden doors of the elevator before her. "What's Isley?"
"That was her maiden name."
Cat shrugged slightly, before stopping in front of the closed elevator doors. "She's doing fine, for her first job."
Yvonne entered the conversation in a breathless tone. "Saussure…in the elevator."
Caterina pictured Crane checking his tracking data, and sure enough Crane was the next voice over the com.
"Floor 2…Floor 3."
"Okay, we're done!" Cherry had to shout over the noise of releasing pressure. "Elevator has been considerably slowed. Douglass get me the fuck out of here!"
"On my way." Douglass replied, his footsteps were oddly quickened as he ran to the opening of the elevator shaft. "Are you in a secure position?"
"Well I'm not about to fall to my death, dumbass, this isn't my first elevator rigging."
Cat was forced to mute the two of them on her com, as they continued to exchange mildly hostile remarks before Douglass finally said.
"Okay, you can stop calling me a cactus, I've got you."
"I called you a fucking prick, and if you let me go I'll haunt your ass."
"I'm not gonna let you go."
Cat waited, staring at the doors, tightening her grip on the handle of the roll-on.
Crane finally gave the signal. "Now."
She held her breath, though there wasn't much need, and unzipped the roll-on quickly.
Gray smoke poured from the slit, billowing over the floor like a liquid and yet filling the air around her in a white haze.
The elevator dinged open, and Cat pushed the roll-on onto the elevator with all her might. She didn't even see the man inside through the fog. In one rapid motion, she reached into the elevator and pressed the 'close' button, before jumping from the shutting door.
"How's the alarm?"
Cat watched the lit indicator above the elevator as it travelled slowly to the next floor and further.
"System remains inactive, I told you dry ice wasn't classified as toxic."
She shrugged slightly, and retraced her route through the building. She wasn't sure she exactly understood Crane's recommendation for using her third-grade science project as a lethal gas.
"Explain it to me again?"
He audibly sighed, but continued with a monotonous and exaggerated slow-paced explanation.
"The dry ice is a solid form of carbon dioxide. In a moving, enclosed space with no ventilation, the CO2 rises to surround the passengers. Concentrated CO2 displaces the oxygen and Mr Saussure can experience several health defects. Dizziness and difficulty breathing over the first 6 minutes, and a slight case of death by about the 10-minute mark. If Miss Cherry did her homework, that elevator ride should be long and un-ventilated."
"It shouldn't leave much of a trail then." Cat replied slowly, catching on to the plan.
"None at all, the CO2 will be dispersed into the building when Mr Saussure reaches his final destination. The only indicator they will have is that he choked to death, possibly on his breakfast muffin."
Crane finished smugly just as Cat pushed open the glass double-doors. The street was littered with the hustle and bustle of lunchtime, and light flecks of rain dotted the dark pavement and shone off various cars.
She strolled up to a cherry-red Audi A5, where Yvonne smiled at her from the shotgun seat, and both Douglass and Cherry were packed into the back.
"How's our account looking?" Cat ducked into the driver seat and stretched her legs out before her.
"Still dismally empty." Crane responded from between Cherry and Douglass, his handsome face was illuminated by the blue screen of a laptop monitor. "Saussure isn't exactly leaving his funds out in the open."
Several seconds went by, the silence only filled by Crane's rapid typing as he hacked the system.
"Okay." He erupted gleefully, swivelling the laptop around to display his handiwork to Cat. "We have just received a generous donation of 10.9 billion dollars."
The car erupted into loud cheers, laughter, and clapping. Cherry glanced at the bank statement and wolf whistled, licking the bright red lipstick off her bottom lip in excitement. "Fucking hell."
"So," Cat smiled at her team in turn, being washed over in waves of pride and exhilaration. "Lunch? I'm thinking we can splash out on two servings of prawn crackers instead of one."
Yvonne couldn't keep the smile from her face, the most exciting part of the whole affair was that she wasn't currently behind bars. The sun had barely disappeared over the horizon, reflecting off the tall buildings in various shades of pink and yellow. She was making her way down Maryland Avenue, having secured that evening's dinner, and was already wondering what Cat was planning for the next job.
She turned the corner and waited at a red light, watching cars roll past and catch the fading sunset in their reflective exteriors.
Yvonne was about to cross the street, when she felt something hard press roughly below her neck.
"What the-"
She was spun around abruptly, and stood face to face with a man in a clean suit. He had a baseball cap over his head, obscuring the top half of his face, and a simple black handgun aimed at Yvonne's diaphragm.
"Miss Huntley." He drawled, his tone and stance exceptionally calm.
"It's Mrs." She scowled despite the threatening weapon, it was a correction she so often made. The man smiled slightly, and increased the pressure of the handgun against her.
"Mrs Huntley, I've so looked forward to meeting you."
Yvonne squared her shoulders, trying to imagine how Cat would face such a situation. She would be a complete and utter badass, and probably would have this man flat on his back missing a limb-or-two in a few seconds.
"Careful," She hissed. "If you know who I am, you know that I can have Caterina Morgan hunting your ass. You think you can take her?"
It was odd, the wave of emotion that hit the man. His hand shook slightly, his head twitched, and the smile dropped from his face as though it had a weight.
"That…that name…say it again."
Yvonne's confidence was tested, simply by the fact that she hadn't exactly evoked the kind of fear she had hoped to.
"C-Caterina Morgan?"
And he shook again, lowered the gun almost subconsciously, and swallowed hard. The psychological effect that Cat's name had on him was most perplexing.
"W-Where is sh-she?" He was trembling slightly, of equal parts fear…anger…and general mania.
Yvonne knew better than to reply, something about this stranger rubbed her the wrong way. The fact that she couldn't see his face under the cap left her extremely distrusting.
The man managed a small smile, at least, she assumed it was a smile. The shadows on his face contorted slightly, and it was either a smile or a grimace.
"Dear, dear Mrs Huntley," He tutted, and pulled off the baseball cap in one fluid motion. "Will you relay a message for me?"
His hair was relatively short, wavy, pulled over his right eye in a mass of messy yet well-kept locks. His eyes were unbelievably dark, neither catching nor reflecting light, and merely remaining hollow and inky. His face was relatively angular, dark stubble neatly covered his strong jaw.
It was a face she should've recognised, a face with certain discernible features and yet she could barely place his name. It was as if someone had digitally altered a famous photograph, and the fact that Yvonne saw this man as incredibly handsome didn't sit well with her.
It was only when the last remaining sunlight bounced off his face, that she finally decided upon a name. His hair, though appearing as dark brown, reflected a subtle forest-green instead. Behind the stubble, Yvonne could discern odd markings that rippled in the light, long and jagged scars that sliced from the corner of his lips to his cheekbones.
He smiled, showing off his scars in gruesome confidence.
"I know, it's a bit of a change."
His voice was slow, and he held the vowels the back of his throat that gave the drawling appearance.
"It's enough," He ran a hand through his messy hair, a habit obviously formed when it was longer. "This is all enough. It's enough for her, I'm enough for her."
The muttering went on as Yvonne stared at him, it was as if she was seeing the figure of a fictional story come to life. It was the personification of Caterina's 3-year-long therapeutic session, the tears, the scars, the nightmares; all stood before her now.
He took a jagged breath, before raising his gaze again to meet Yvonne's.
"You tell her," He continued in a low voice, bringing the handgun up again. "You tell Ca-…her. Tell her I'll meet her in an old hotel, she'll know the one. Tomorrow afternoon, not a second later."
Yvonne watched him carefully, and winced slightly at his intentions.
"I don't-"
But he was already gone, strolling down the street and pulling the cap back onto his head. She watched him leave until she could no longer discern his figure, deliberating and wrestling with her own thoughts.
The image of Caterina smiling, beaming at her when they stole from Saussure burned through her mind. It was the first genuine expression of joy or affection she had seen in months, it was a sign, a sign of healing. She had spent months building herself again, mending what was a shattered mind and personal identity. Caterina Morgan was so much more than that suicidal disarray she had been on that rooftop 3 years ago, so much more than that monster's pet. She was finally in a good place.
And Joker could completely obliterate that with a single word.
Side note: If Gotham City (apparently the most crime-ridden city in the world btw) has legalized marriage equality, WTF are we doing Australia?