It's been six months since Riddler blew up Gotham.
Six months of being untethered, truly, maybe for the first time in her life.
Selena Kyle is no stranger to solitude. She's arguably been on her own since she was nine years old, when her mother died.
The only constant entity that had surrounded her, shaped her, defined her...was Gotham. And for the past six months Selina has been away from the only home she's ever known.
It started with her running off to Blüdhaven with nothing but her bike, two duffle bags (one stuffed with Falcone's cash, the other with clothes and wigs), and her favorite cat, Ms. Thang.
But after just a few nights, Selina had grown restless. She didn't feel right staying stagnant. The energy surrounding the foreign city was unnervingly unfamiliar. The lack of predictability was unsettling and left her feeling vulnerable.
So she kept it moving.
Jersey, New York City, Metropolis, Chicago, Baltimore, Pittsburg…
Each setting is a new place for Selina to do what she does best— steal fancy shit from rich, pompous assholes.
Selina lurks around town like a predator, masking herself with different wigs, different appearances, different personas. She takes advantage of her pretty face and the way sleazy men sexualize her body.
Like children, they're easily manipulated. She just has to wave a piece of candy in their face and they start salivating like dogs, eager to beg for a taste.
Sitting in crowded bars and clubs, Selina can spot them from a mile away. They're always the sloppy pieces of shit that were either grabbing on women who walked too close, the ones leaving a shitty tip on an expensive bill, or the ones who spoke to people in that sinister way only rich, white men who've never faced any consequences can get away with.
Selina really hones her craft, practicing on a multitude of different locks and security systems. She's all but mastered slipping quietly in and out of the shadows with a stillness and determination she learned from a certain masked vigilante.
Selina's in and out before anybody's the wiser. And even if they become suspicious, by the time they catch on, she's already half way to a different city.
She gets a new mask that covers more of her face. And because why the fuck not, she even throws little cat ears on it..it's kind of her whole thing.
She's a cat burglar with a cat mask. It only makes sense when she finds herself coining her new gig Catwoman. She might have taken some inspiration from Gotham's bat-eared, night dwelling crime fighter.
The Bat and the Cat, it's got a nice ring...
She didn't realize it while it was all happening, but that week last Halloween had changed her forever.
Annika died— taken and murdered right from underneath Selina.
Murdered by Selina's own father. The same hands that were responsible for draining the life out of her mother had done the same to her friend. Annika was just a kid, barely twenty-two years old. And that voicemail of Falcone killing her replays over and over in her dreams—nightmares, rather.
Every single fucking night, she sees Annika screaming, choking, clawing at Falcone as she fought for her life in vain.
Sometimes Annika's face is replaced by Selina's own. A billiard stick's always pressing against her throat as her father stares into her eyes with hate, with evil.
But, to Selina's horror, Annika's face usually morphs into her mother's. And the dream almost always ends with Selina collapsed in a fetal position by the black duffle bags their bodies are grotesquely stuffed...
She doesn't sleep much anymore.
And Falcone is dead. The past six months has given Selina time to process her feelings around her father's demise.
She often replays the scene in her head.
The sound of the gun shot, the screaming, and Falcone's body finally lifeless on the side walk.
Finally.
At first Selina was bitter that she wasn't the one to pull the trigger and take the life of the man who murdered her mother before letting the foster care system chew her up and spit her out.
But as time goes on, she's surprised to find that she grieves for her father.
She grieves for a life that could have been, for the love that could have been shared.
She grieves for the last sliver of hope that she's ever belong to a family.
She's also surprised by her gratitude that Falcone's boos isn't on her hands. Something deep inside her knows that pulling that trigger would have darkened her in a frightening way. It wouldn't have just killed Falcone, but also the last bit of light Selina has locked away in her soul.
All because someone had stopped her. Someone had restrained Selina against their chest and forced the gun to clatter on the floor.
Don't throw your life away. You don't have to pay with him.
Vengeance. The Batman. Selina's thought about the mystery vigilante constantly during her time away from Gotham.
It's hard not to; he's all over the media.
She watches Gotham news every damn night. Watches her city drown, and then drain, and all the chaos and all the pain.
But also, the hope. The hope unexpectedly provided by none other The Batman himself.
She watches him on her screen, the light reflecting on her face.
She watches him as he climbs over rubble, covered in soot and dirt, lifting people out of debris.
She watches him from aerial footage as he makes his way into the most inaccessible parts of the city, pulling kids out of abandoned buildings and cars, carrying dogs and cats out of the water, helping families into the light.
All as the government rebuilds the city as quickly as humanly possible.
Without a doubt, her week with The Batman has changed Selina in ways she still doesn't understand.
She often questions her weird…attraction…to a literal masked stranger that she spent less days with then fingers on one hand.
Maybe it's because Vengeance is so...interesting to Selina.
The way his stormy blue eyes held hers steadily and unwavering and honest and searching. Always searching.
The way he carried himself, like a giant, shoulders always back, an unstoppable force, boots shaking the ground under his feet.
The power he held in his movements, behind every throw of his fist, fierce kick of his boot.
The way his voice was deep and raspy but quiet. Not so quiet you couldn't hear, but quiet in a calm, confident kind of way. It commanded people to have to listen when he spoke. And he rarely spoke. He only added to the silence in a meaningful way. To command, to inquire.
But that was okay, because he said so much with just his eyes and the subtle movements of his features, his body. Selina quickly picked up on the different meanings of the way he shaped his mouth, the intensity of his gaze, and the set of his jaw.
Despite their limited time together, she recognizes how his vibe parallels her own. Just in a darker, more masculine way as opposed to her lighter feminine one.
It pulled her into him instantly. And him to her, if she read him correctly.
Like magnets.
But what interests her the most about Vengeance was the intimate, vulnerable way he behaved when it was just the two of them. The way he looked at her, spoke to her.
She just felt it. That unexplainable click when you meet a kindred spirit. The colliding of energies that happen only in the presence of your twin flame. He made her feel seen in a way that was only possible when someone understands you in a way no one else can.
Because you've both suffered the same traumas. Both endured the same pain.
That was the way she felt around The Batman. She just knew him.
He's alone like she's alone.
Broken in all the same ways she is broken.
Selina Kyle throws the waitress who sets down her coffee a smile and a "thank you." She settles into the buzz of life around her, enjoying the chaotic ambiance, before sipping on her latte.
She's in a crowded outdoor caffe in Washington D.C, nestled up right next to the open water. It's early, but the sun is already blazing down and heating up her exposed neck and shoulders. Selina couldn't resist visiting the capitol, snuffing out the wealthy douchebag running this country.
It was surprisingly effortless. They always believed they were so untouchable.
Until their Rolex went missing or their wall suddenly had a barren spot where there was once a piece of art on display. She was no Riddler…but Selina found a lot of satisfaction slipping into their homes and taking their glutinous belongings that could feed a starving family of four.
But she's tired. Something in her gut is telling her it's time to get moving again, but where? There's nowhere that appeals to her. And the nomadic living is starting to wear her down. She feels a sense of longing, but doesn't quite know what she's longing for.
Home? To belong?
The thought makes her set down her drink and pull out her phone. She convinces herself that she's just checking on Gotham, because no matter how chagrined she presents herself to be, Selina can't help but love her shithole of a city.
But deep down, part of her wanted an update on The Batman.
Ms. Thang is strapped to Selina's back and peeks out of the little screened window of the cat carrier. The chatter around Selina is muted by her headphones as she browses through the news articles trending on her phone.
It's been the same thing for weeks now. Crime is, as expected, through the roof. Bella Réal was cleaning house, working with James Gordon to gut out the corrupted corpse that was the GCPD. Gotham Prince Billionaire Bruce Wayne was out of hiding and front in center for the Gotham Relief efforts. Blah, blah blah...And then she sees it.
Masked Vigilante, The Batman, Rescues Victims of Sex Trafficking
No more then minutes later, Selina's mounting her bike with Ms. Thang on her back, her belongings secured behind her, and starts her journey back to Gotham. Whatever it is about that specific headline, it's the one.
The one that tells her It's time to go home.
