Chapter 4: The Hunt: Part 1

Fandom: Gotham

Pairing: Bruce/Selina

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Rating: M

Selina

"I'm trying to help you," he explained, exasperatedly taking another step in her direction. "If you stay here my dad's going to kill you!"

The warning should've prompted her. She could follow him, let him lead her out, and ditch him as soon as they cleared this hell hole, but she knew it couldn't be that simple.

The flashlight he kept pointed toward the ground gave her more than enough illumination to see the kid. He was dressed in dark colors, his face painted to match, and his unusual white hair was shoved under a black knit-cap. But she still recognized his long face and that reedy voice.

The cell was too narrow to run past him, and between the handgun he carried and her lack of specs on the building she doubted she'd get very far.

She lowered her hips, trying to keep her weight on her back foot, but the mattress was proving to be difficult.

His pale eyes flicked down to her feet and he shrugged one slight shoulder, any impression of haste gone.

"I have to admit," he said, his eyes turning up at the edges as he smiled. "My dad was right, he said you'd be too clever to fall for that…"

She kept her back to the stone wall as she inched closer to him.

"Poseidon down there," he boasted, gesturing nonchalantly in the direction of the other cells. "He followed me out like I was the fucking Pied-piper."

His snort was like ice in her belly.

"My father noticed you've stopped eating," he said, using his gun to point at her bowl before he snorted again. "I bet you thought you figured it all out. I bet," he said, crossing his arms. "You thought you were real clever."

"Your words," she answered, her voice hoarse.

His eyes narrowed on her, as he brought the light beam back to her face.

"It was just painkillers," he laughed. "My dad thinks suffering spoils the meat."

"The meat?" she asked, trying to swallow against the sudden lump in her throat.

"Yes, you know," he said, lowering the flashlight again. "All my dad really wants is your heart, but after that," he said, taking another step toward her, seemingly examining her face. "I think you and I could have a lot of fun."

"Why wait," she smiled, her chapped lips cracking. "We could have a lot of fun right now."

She'd already judged that she was too close to knee him properly, but her fist landed at the exact angle she needed against his jaw. Pain shot through her knuckles as she watched him crumble to the ground.

Run!

She jumped his prone body, slamming the cell door behind her. Her mind suddenly narrowed, the need for self-preservation overwhelming any sense of caution.

The left, they'd always come from the left. Ignoring the right all together, she moved toward a set of double doors. They looked so common, wood and heavy like something in a barn.

"You low-brow bitch!" echoed down the hall as she stumbled through one half of the doors. It opened to a set of ascending concrete steps and black sky. The sudden fresh cold air was sweet and shocking but she didn't pause as she climbed the steps. She couldn't slip now. She scrambled, the treads on her boots slipping on the ice and snow, every breath dragging the beautiful cold into her lungs.

She'd barely reached the precipice when she saw the small fire, she should've smelled it, should've known. It looked innocent enough, a camp fire keeping a father warm. Disorientation caused her to pause, her eyes locking with the crouching figure warming his gloved hands.

He stood slowly, his body looking massive as the fire sent his shadow against the bare trees behind him. The fire and its smoke, the only thing dividing them, reflected against his narrowed eyes. She felt her jaw clench at the crossbow by his side and there was something along his back, a kind of firearm, it was long, a rifle or a shotgun maybe. She didn't really know the difference. He visibly swallowed as his head and his eyes turned slowly to the dug out behind her. Selina felt her body exhale as it finally reacted and she ran for the opposite tree line.

If she thought her cell had been cold, it certainly hadn't prepared her for the frozen hell that stretched out before her. She ignored the banks of snow that had piled high against the tree trunks and the sharp slap of their skinny branches as they snatched at her. Her lungs were burning and her head ached, but she kept running.

Distance.

Distance was her ally.

Distance was the only thing that could save her.

Stop!

Her feet came up short, her arms wind milling as she stopped herself from falling over the sudden edge. The miniature valley below her wasn't deep, twelve or fifteen feet at the most, not high enough to break your neck but most likely an arm or a leg if you weren't careful. A half-frozen and wilted creek split it down the middle, rocks and logs exposed along its harsh bank. If it hadn't been for her keen sight she would've ran head long into it.

She turned looking behind her. There was nothing, no moon, no stars, not even the tell-tell glow of city lights. Just ice and darkness and naked trees.

I'm okay.

Her breath wheezed from her, catching in her dry throat and making her gag.

She couldn't get sick. Not now. She felt herself doubling over and gave in to the need, reaching for the nearest tree.

Her back to the trunk, her eyes scanned the trail behind her, the dark woods beside her and finally the creek below her. They were beginning to burn at her sudden realization. She was lost. She was cold. And she was being hunted.

She slumped against the tree, fighting the sudden fear in her belly.

No.

It was a simple enough command. Her little voice reminding her that she didn't have time for introspective bull shit. She was going to make it out of this. She always did.

Clenching her jaw and steadying her breath, she pushed herself up. She was Selina Kyle. She had to be smarter about this.

"Cats are hard to track. They're both predator and prey animals, they know how to stalk so they know how to hide."

The boy's voice rang in her ear. She wasn't sure if he'd actually told her that or if she'd just assumed but he was right. She'd been snapping branches her entire run, any experienced hunter would be able to find her no problem.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

If she wasn't smarter they were going to find her and when they found her… She refused to think on that.

The frozen ground was beginning to crunch beneath her feet, leaving imprints of her boots in the ground. She hand no choice, she was have to change her strategy.

Maybe, she could climb a tree and wait until morning? But that was absurd. He would have the advantage of sunlight. She had the advantage now and she couldn't afford to waste it.

Her eyes went to the valley and the stream below.

It would be slow, and it would be painful, but there would be no trees to hold her up, no boot prints to worry about. And streams came from somewhere, and they led to somewhere too, didn't they? Maybe a lake or a river or something. It didn't matter at this point. She just needed to keep moving and moving fast.

At the sound of a gun shot, she pressed herself against the nearest tree. It was close, too close. She heard the soft break of a branch, smelled the familiar and acrid scent of gun powder as he moved closer. She tried to hold her breath as she slinked around the trunk, the bark burrowing into her fingertips as she lowered her feet onto the snow that had accumulated there.

How? How had he already caught up with her?

It felt like ice in her belly as the answer washed over her and she pushed her back into the tree behind her. He knew. He'd known all along what she was going to do, where she was going to go.

How many? How many times had he done this? She didn't have time to think about that. That would be left to the cops, to Jim Gordon, when she got out of this and got back home. But right now…

Right now, she needed to act.

She breathed slowly, listening to the ice softly crunch under his footfall. She didn't need to see him to know he was on the opposite side of her hiding place. But did he see her? Did he sense her? Smell her? Did he know what she was prepared to do?

Head still, her eyes moved to the side as she waited for any sign of him. The barrel was the first thing she saw come around the corner, and before she could think, she grabbed it. Shock must've loosened his grip and she swung it like a bat, but he jumped away sending the wooden butt cracking against the tree. An involuntary cry escaped her sore throat as the vibration stung her muscles and forced her to drop the useless weapon.

It clattered to the ground between them, but she didn't waste any precious time as she leaned her weight back and connected her boot to his solar plexus. He doubled over, and she took the opportunity to bring her knee up to his face. The satisfying crunch of a broken noise in-between their grunts.

He cried out as she pushed him away, her ankle nearly giving as she stumbled on an exposed root, but she kept her feet. She couldn't fight them both, but she could outrun them. If she could just get to a road, or a house, or something. Anything.

She was nearing the edge of the shallow valley again, her mind already moving to which direction she was going to take when something hit her from behind. They fell several feet onto the creeks shore, her body instinctually rolling against the impact.

Dazed, she was nearly back to her feet, her shoes sliding against the rocky bank, when she felt arms around her waist dragging her back. The heel of her boot collided with a shin, but the man barely gave out a grunt.

For one moment, she felt weightless as the world blurred past, and as she connected with the icy grip of the creek bed, she realized he'd thrown her. Before she could breathe through the pain, he was straddling her, a bowie knife in one hand.

Her forearm blocked his first attempt at her throat, but the knife deflected , tearing through her jacket and right into her shoulder. But she felt nothing, just a vague idea that this was happening.

As he tried to pull his knife free, she quickly poked at his eye, the fragile organ giving way under her dirty nails. He pulled away from her and somewhere between his raw scream and the white hot pain in her shoulder the knife was flung.

She'd expected him to yield, to put his pain above his conquest, but suddenly it was like a thousand needles were stabbing her at once. She clawed at his arms as he held her beneath the water, her pain so consuming she didn't feel the rocks cutting into her back.

He dragged her back to the surface, and she coughed up the small amount of water that managed its way into her mouth, terror went through her as she looked into his one good eye. He wasn't just going to kill her. He was going to make her pay.

She abandoned her futile effort, his jacket was too thick, his anger too overriding to feel any pain. She couldn't play dead. He would know. His fingers were at her throat now, squeezing, and she resisted the urge to grab at his hands. Her arms went to the sides, her fingers hoping to land on something. Anything. Sticks and rocks littered the creek bed. She just needed one.

The world was beginning to grow dim, the pain in her shoulder all but forgotten as she felt something give beneath her hand. He loosened his grip and she sucked in a beautiful lung full of air.

"I've never," he gasped, his knuckles popping as he flexed his fingers. "Strangled anyone before."

She stared up at his one good eye, her own fingers nearly stiff as she rocked her find back and forth under the icy water. She couldn't swing it with both hands and she was only going to get one shot at it.

Make it count.

Her strength was already beginning to ebb, but she waited until she felt his grip on her throat again. Using every ounce of strength she had conserved, she brought the log up. It smashed apart against his temple, splintering and snowing down pieces as she pushed him off her. On her hands and knees, she slid and slipped to the bank.

The knife.

Her eyes searched the bank for anything shiny. It was gone, carried away in the stream or thrown too far for her to see. Groping around in the dark, she only felt small twigs. She needed something heavy. Something lethal.

Above the rushing water, she could hear him groaning but getting up.

Her hands were already shaking. She needed a weapon and she needed it now.

Her eyes landed on something, pale and hard, jetting out of the water, and she only hoped that she could get it in time. Her fingernails cracked as she dug it out of the creek bed and she could sense him splashing his way across the stream.

She wasn't aware of the scream that ripped at her throat or the sound the rock made against his skull. She saw nothing. She felt nothing. His blood sprayed against her face, the rock cut into her fingers and still she felt numb. She didn't stop when he stopped moving, or when her breath had become sobs, it was only when her arms couldn't lift it above her head anymore.

It was like waking up from a fog, the cold like being slapped into consciousness. The stream roared in her ears, drowning out even her own heartbeat, her skin alternating between hot and cold. She scrambled off his chest, and she made it ten steps before the smell of copper and the feel of his warm blood…

Her stomach was empty and her eyes burned as she vomited only bile onto the bank.

She could feel a giggle, somewhere inside her, a hysterical laugh that begged to be set free. But she didn't have the time.

"Dad?" she heard the distinct voice of 'Barty' and something crashing through the undergrowth above her.

"Dad where are you?"

"Did you get her?"

"Dad!" he was much louder than his father, whether from inexperience or that he thought his father had already felled her she didn't know.

Cradling her arm, Selina started off in the opposite direction, her splashing covered by the rushing of the stream. She needed to put distance between her and the hunters.

AN: I hope part 1 of this chapter didn't disappoint.

A HUGE thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favorited this story.

If you haven't already, check out author: Byzinha Lestrange She does some great batcat stories.