CHAPTER TWO
The Clots was packed today, full of women wearing fishnets and screaming hair, and men who probably had advanced degrees in violent crime. Screechy metal music shrieked from giant speakers at the front of the venue. This was what was left of Gotham: the dregs of society. Selina supposed she could include herself in that statement.
Weaving through headbangers and freaks, she headed for the back where she'd find Big G, her fencer for the past six months. So far so good with him, but she'd had her run of double-crossing bastards who'd nearly got her killed before, so she always came in with a guarantee, and incognito. She did value her life and her privacy, after all. They just knew her as-
The guard knocked on his boss's door twice. "Catwoman's here, boss," he said into his earpiece.
Selina dragged her clawed finger down his shirt to his crotch with a purr as the door swung open. "Thanks, Meatsack. Catch ya later."
Sauntering in with an extra swing in her step, Selina took in the room, more business than she might appear. The goggles helped mask that well. There was another Meatsack in the corner, his glare trained on her. Big G sat in the middle at the desk.
"Morning! Or afternoon for you, fellas," she started, draping herself over the chair for Big G's visitors. "I had a lucrative night. Wanna see my goods?"
Big G leaned forward, glowering at her. "What makes you think you can just walk in here after the stunt you pulled last time?"
Selina rolled her eyes. "Big G, you were going to cheat me out of five grand. What was I supposed to do… take it like a good kitten and lick my wounds?" She leaned forward, toward the gangster's reddening jowls. "I mean, I can always take this stash to the Penguin. I hear he's not stingy with money. But, you know, I come here to support the local Midtown economy."
Big G sneered, but remained silent. Standing up, she brought her knapsack around against her chest. "So… you interested or not?"
The man steepled his sausage fingers under his chin, scowling at her.
Selina huffed. "All right, all right, I promise not to burgle you this time… if you don't cheat me. Fair enough?" She drummed her fingers on the satchel. "I know the value of every jewel in here. Call it a gift."
More like growing up with a billionaire, she thought wryly to herself.
A beat passed, then Big G grunted his assent, leaning back in his seat.
Carefully, lovingly, Selina drew out and deposited her loot from last night's delicate operation onto Big G's desk. The pieces were extravagant, beautifully crafted. Jewelry that only old money could buy. She could tell the amount of time and artistry that went into making jewelry like this. The pressure shaping the earth's secrets. The eye strain required to mount them. And the talent and passion to shape them into exquisite elegance for a woman's neck, ears, wrist or finger.
She'd learned to appreciate classical art over the years, too. Besides their monetary value, Caravaggio, Michelangelo and their painterly ilk transcended dollars and made her heart sing, too, though she preferred viewing them than stealing them due to their bulk.
"My, Catwoman. Did you rob the entire Diamond District?" Big G's eyes roved over her loot, practically blinking dollar signs.
"Never you mind where I got the trinkets. So what say you… two...?"
Big G smiled slowly. "Ah, I can do that."
Selina smirked, amused at his foolishness. "Million," she finished.
"Now hang on a second-"
Selina moved fast. She leaned over his desk and jabbed her clawed finger into his double chin so fast his goon didn't see her coming. "Don't for a second think you can cheat me of what these are worth." At his blustering, she shushed him with the same claw she'd just jabbed at his throat. A single drop of blood clung to it. "Shh… now, be a good boy and have your Meatsack fetch me my money."
His eyes like saucers, he nodded at the Meatsack behind him.
"Thank you, Big G. I knew we'd come to an understanding." With a pat on his sweaty head, Selina straightened up, retracting her claws with a hum. She grinned when the Meatsack brought the cold hard cash. "In the bag," she instructed him, pointing to her knapsack.
Unceremoniously, he dumped stack after stack in as she held the bag open, mentally counting.
Today was a good day.
#
Selina walked out of The Clots with a saunter in her step, biting her lip to keep from grinning from ear to ear. Still, though, she kept an eye out in case Big G sicced his goons on her. Fences tended to undercut thieves by a lot, treating objects like cars losing value with time and usage. But jewelry was timeless, especially authentic jewelry like the Victory lot could afford. You could have accessorized a queen with the jewels she'd just brought him.
It was always a little hard to part with beautiful jewelry, but Selina also always reminded herself that she did it for reasons that didn't just involve her. And, okay, because she could, too.
Talking a left into an alleyway, she jumped up onto a dumpster then a fire escape ladder, making her lithe way up onto The Clots' roof. Last night's rain had slickened the surfaces all around the city. She had a pretty good view of Gotham in all its ravaged, icy ugliness. Still it awed her, her birthplace.
Taking a deep, cold breath, she sat on the roof's edge, hugging her knees to her chest.
Sometimes she wondered why she'd stayed. After the No Man's Land months. After Bruce left. After the gang wars further decimated Gotham. Seeing the Wayne name everywhere had nearly driven her away for good. But something had tethered her to the city.
She'd reminded herself that she was a survivor, had been one her entire life. She'd survived without a mother, betrayal, helplessness. Even death. She could survive some more. And then each day had stretched into more surviving and she'd begun helping those around her whose odds were stacked ever against them.
Selina carefully drew herself back up, stepping back a few steps, and then launched into a sprint to breach the divide to the next rooftop. Effortless. Exhilarating. She loved it. Kept going.
A few minutes later, she reached her destination. Picking at the lock of the beat-down apartment complex, she then entered, softly padding through the halls and listening at each door to verify occupancy. For those she deemed occupied, Selina dug into her bag and slipped a stack of bills under the door.
She'd started doing that after more lucrative operations. What would she do with millions all to herself? It felt good to give people hope off the backs of those who didn't give them any. She'd decided long ago to only keep the necessary: enough to live on for a while, and enough to afford her alias's expensive fashion taste for events like last night's.
She liked the nature of her donations in that no one ever saw her face, either. Sometimes she saw a newspaper with a "Robin Hood" headline, but more often than not people liked to keep that kind of information private to prevent theft. In these times, it was best to keep such things to yourself or risk friends turning into robbers. Hence why she had none.
Selina slipped money under the last door, then padded back up the floors to the rooftop, headed home now to burrow into her bed for the next little while. God it was so damn cold.
#
Later that night, Selina crept out of her place, ensuring no neighbor or passer-by would take a gander at someone coming out of a seemingly abandoned mansion. It wouldn't do if her squat was discovered. She was already stretching it by staying longer than she should, but she liked the damn place. It was comfortable, for once, and besides the rightful owners were only due whenever Gotham became safe again, which was… not any time soon.
Climbing up to the roof, she looked up. The view was breathtaking from up here. The stars had a chance to peek through the city sky, as most of the city went dark at night now, besides Victory. Streetlights and bars still dotted up the landscape with lights here and there, but the stars powered through, resplendent against the snow and ice that glittered over every inch.
Sometimes she wondered if perhaps Gotham's sky used to look like this before the roaring twenties, when industries began booming through the city… Whether they could see the stars, too, as she never could before. It was why she made a habit of coming out to look at them on clear nights. Might as well get something good out of their collective misfortune.
Selina yawned, climbing back down to her boarded window, and made her way back in. It was a hassle, getting dressed just for a few minutes, but she thought seeing millions of stars was well worth the risk of being seen.
Speaking of, she froze in the process of removing her gloves, sensing a presence.
"It's just me."
"I know." She turned to see him with his gloved hands in the air, by the crackling fireplace, dressed in a high-grade ballistic suit and a thick utility belt with an assortment of gadgets attached to it. "To what do I owe the visit this time?"
He coughed. "I'm investigating my company's possible involvement in the whole Victory formation. They have their own masked militia. How did it happen?"
Selina huffed a chuckle, shrugging as she turned back around and sat to hug one of the posts on her bed. "Greed, what else?" She searched his eyes. "Playing detective again, Bruce? Thought you gave that up to, um, 'train'," she teased with air quotes.
Visibly hesitating, he seemed to come to a decision and moved aside. Selina's eyes left his and lighted on what he'd been hiding from her: a cowl. She gasped, slowly coming to her feet. "You're the one who's been catching criminals?"
"Don't look so surprised. We used to do it together."
And then it hit her. "Oh my God, that's why you're pretending Bruce Wayne's a cripple. You're living a double life. I should've put two and two together."
Now that she paid attention, she could just make out a bat symbol emblazoned on his chest. He was so backlit against the fireplace that she hadn't seen it at first. And he hadn't worn the suit last night. But now it all made sense.
The mask he'd just shown her seemed to be staring at her.
She'd been aware of the Batman's nighttime activities around Gotham these past few weeks, rounding up and striking fear into hardened career criminals. He'd been busy. She'd seen the vigilante swooping from rooftop to rooftop from a distance once as he went about his business. She'd counted herself lucky that Catwoman was not worthy of Batman's attention. And now, she realized he'd known she was Catwoman all this time. Weeks ago, on the rooftop, he'd seen her. Had asked her to relinquish the diamond she'd stolen that night.
Had he… chosen not to strike at her?
"You knew," she breathed. "Why haven't you delivered me to the cops with a bow?"
He shrugged, raking his hair with his hand. It was disheveled from the cowl, she noticed. "Why would I?"
Selina frowned. Was he serious? "I'm a thief?"
Bruce mulled that one over. "Who's technically kind of Gotham's Robin Hood?"
She sat back down. "Ah," she replied slowly. "You saw me."
"Yes."
Selina looked away, suddenly embarrassed. It was something he'd done himself when she tried to teach him the street rat life. He'd thrown his half of their heist money to the street below, and she'd been infuriated. But this was different. This was Victory eating the little people, and she was at least redistributing what the rich took from them all. Next time it'd be for a different building, different people.
"Why are you embarrassed? It's what's right," he said.
She shrugged. "Well, I'm not entirely selfless." Her loot winked in the darkness.
He acknowledged the room. "I'm at a point where I'm willing to weigh the positives against the negatives."
Selina cocked her head against the bedpost, a smile tugging at her lips. "And the positives are…?" she asked, dangling a slippered foot back and forth. His eyes dipped lower over her pajamas before settling on her foot, where he cleared his throat. Selina felt scorched where his gaze had touched her.
"I already told you," he said, tearing his eyes from her foot to now stare at the fire, brooking no more discussion on the subject.
Studying his profile, Selina mused about how he was unused to not having control. "That doesn't explain why you're here."
She saw his jaw muscles tighten. Yes, this was about something he had no control over. She could tell. Resolve won. "I need your help."
Clarity dawned. "Ah. You needed to ensure I'm worthy of helping Batman before you could deign to ask for my help." Talk about convoluted. "Is that it?" she asked when he didn't offer a retort, a denial, anything. But she knew.
Bruce's eyes flashed when he replied through his teeth. "That's not it and you know it."
Selina scoffed. "Do I?" She disentangled herself from her bedpost and marched over, planting herself before his tense figure, daring him to disagree. "You knew who I was before you left. You knew I'm a thief. I bet you came back expecting me to be just as lawless as you remembered. A degenerate. Due for jail. Well guess what, I'm still street trash." She presented her wrists at him, silently daring him. "Take me in, Batman. I steal things because I'm good at it." When he just kept staring at her, glaring almost, she continued. "Or… you imagined I'd completely reformed in your absence. You thought I'd be pining for you and in the meantime realized how utterly unladylike stealing things is, and so I stopped in the name of Bruce Wayne. Getting warmer?"
Just a little more, she thought to herself. Just a little more, and he'd explode.
Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, Selina grabbed his head delicately, angling her lips against his ear. "It's not about you, Bruce," she whispered, then disengaged, stepping away from him deftly. "I'm me."
He grabbed her so quickly, she didn't see it coming. Suddenly with her back against the wall next to the fireplace, Bruce pressed against her, invading her personal space like she just had, but in a far more physical way. She'd done it snidely, with anger and hurt behind her words; he seemed to have just… snapped.
He planted his hands on either side of her head, his eyes darting between hers, fire and danger swimming within.
"I know," he growled. "I need your help because I need someone I can trust."
"Why would you trust me?" she asked defiantly.
"Because you care," he replied just as fiercely.
Selina scoffed. "I stopped caring about you the moment your plane took off."
It was a lie. She'd watched his plane disappear into the clouds from the airport floor, where her legs - legs he'd healed when all hope was lost - had then given out on her. Her chest had felt for weeks as if someone had stuck pin pricks all over it, bleeding her dry. But he didn't know that. He didn't know she'd hoped for someone, anything from him for weeks, and then had decided that keeping herself busy would at least keep her thoughts at bay. So she'd given in headfirst into familiar recklessness and hadn't looked back.
The tension and fury visibly melted from him. "That's not what I meant," he said more gently, his eyes shifting downward in… sorrow, perhaps. This close, she could see his lashes in the dimness, dark against his lightly burnished skin. If she concentrated, she might be able to place his cologne. But she didn't. She wouldn't. "I meant Gotham," he continued, looking up again. "The city. I know you care; that's why I trust you."
Selina chuckled emptily, awkwardly, under his penetrating gaze. Was that the only reason? What about all the times she'd had his back before? Hadn't he trusted her then, too? But Selina felt too empty to bring the past up. If five years meant nothing to him, then so be it.
I will be here whenever you need me.
Selina wanted to take back her words. At least their echo in her ears. Fuck the past her. Fuck him.
"Why do you do this anyway?" she asked instead, breaking the painful stride in her head. "Why fight for a city that's never given you anything in return for all that you and your family have done?"
Bruce blinked. He hadn't expected that question. "It's my home," he said simply, shrugging.
"You ditched your home for a whole decade," she pointed out incredulously.
"I had to make sure I could help the city when I came back."
Selina groaned at his idiosyncratic bullheadedness. "Are you hearing yourself, Bruce? You're not responsible for Gotham or anyone in it!"
The wall shuddered as Bruce slammed his gloved fist into it. There was no anger in it, just frustration. This was their age-old argument. Bruce had a hero complex that fed on making sure bad guys went to jail, whereas Selina would rather watch out for number one. Granted, she had a soft spot for the helpless, but she never went after criminals herself. She liked the skin on her back, thank you very much. Bruce, though… Bruce always seemed to feel guilty for being alive, for Gotham's descent into madness. He had a death wish then. Now… he didn't seem to have changed.
"Gotham deserves better than to be infested with criminals," he said, flattening his hand by her head again. "And it's home to defenseless men, women and children. Who's defending them, Selina?"
Selina rolled her eyes. There it was. His hero complex. "You're wasting your time. Gotham's gone. Everyone in it, too."
She stiffened as one of his hands - powerful hands that throttled and choked dangerous felons as if they were mere punching bags - suddenly cradled her face, gently brushing a lock of her long mass of unruly curls behind her ear. "I don't think you mean that. You haven't given up on Gotham, Selina, despite everything it's done to you." He paused, studying her eyes. "So why should I?"
Selina grabbed his glove and stopped him. She desperately wanted to learn into his palm, to learn what he felt like again after all these years, but she held back and closed off. It was the least she could do for herself. Taking a deep breath, she extricated herself from the wall and crouched in front of the fire, warming her hands. They weren't cold, but she wanted the distraction.
She wet her lips, gathering her wits. "You said you need my help. What for?" she asked without looking up.
Bruce slowly leaned against the wall, in her periphery. "Is that a yes?" he asked carefully.
... whenever you need me.
Selina swallowed, running a weary hand over her face and through her hair in deep internal debate. Yet she already knew what her answer would be. And she knew exactly what she was in for. But her resolve was obviously weak where he was concerned.
"Fuck," she breathed. Damn Bruce Wayne. She looked up at him, glaring. "Yes."
Hip lips stretching in a thin line, he pushed off the wall. "Meet me at Wayne Manor tomorrow at noon," he instructed. "We'll go over the intel I've gathered and we can plan from there." At her visible hesitation he frowned. "What?"
Wayne Manor. Selina hadn't been there in years. She wondered if he'd had it rebuilt exactly the same. "Nothing," she brushed him off. "Tomorrow. Noon. Got it."
Bruce grabbed his cowl and slid it on, pressing his temple. "Alfred," he called, his eyes on Selina. She hoped Alfred hadn't heard their conversation. She hoped he'd just turned it on. "We'll need to make Selina a communicator."
"Very well, Master B," she heard his butler reply dimly. "I'll get cracking."
Selina stood up, opened her mouth, but... words wouldn't come.
Bruce raised a brow inquisitively, nodding at her to go ahead.
"Say... say hi from me," she whispered, feeling awkward.
The day after Bruce left, Alfred had found her at the ruins. He'd graciously offered for her to stay at the condo Bruce had bought him in the Diamond District - now part of Victory - before leaving, but she'd refused and had avoided him ever altogether thereafter. Too many memories. Until the Wayne Enterprises gala a few weeks ago, where she'd demanded he tell his employer to leave her alone.
Bruce's frown deepened, but he relayed her message dutifully, listened, then thanked his butler, and pressed his temple again. Ah, so Alfred hadn't heard their conversation. Good. "He sends his thanks. Felt sorry to see you go..." Though she could tell the last bit puzzled him, he didn't ask. He'd probably ask Alfred to fill him in later.
"I should go."
"So many criminals to catch, so little night," Selina teased half-heartedly.
He didn't even crack a smile. Selina watched him head to the boarded window. There he looked back pensively for a moment. "See you tomorrow."
He was gone before she could reply.