Note: This chapter corresponds with my story "Status Quo".
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The first time she sees him, it's unexpected.
All of it.
The job was already going bad – the second security guard was in the wrong place at the right time, and smart enough to hit the alarm before he confronted her. It isn't her fault; it's annoying just the same.
She knocks him out and grabs everything she can, no grace or style, not her idea of a fun time at all. She makes it onto the roof fast enough, she knows, to avoid the four-minute average response time of the cops.
But not fast enough to avoid the Bat.
He lands on the roof's edge with a sweep of black wings and she quick-steps back, giving a sharp hiss of displeasure and anger.
She knew her life of anonymity was on borrowed time since that snafu with the kid and Holly; she knew the Batman would be the first on her trail; and she wants to make him sorry for terrorizing her protégé – but she doesn't need the complication tonight, not when she has buyers waiting for merchandise that's already a week overdue.
She weighs her options quickly and makes a break for it – sprints for the edge of the roof, knowing she has little hope of making it to the other side or of surviving the fifteen-story sheer drop, but just pissed-off and desperate enough to risk it anyway.
She plants her foot on the last inch of solid surface and pushes off hard. The bag in her hand immediately becomes an anchor, throws off her balance, tips her sideways toward the street. She has just a moment to think This was phenomenally stupid and then something impacts her side and knocks her out of freefall.
Batman. He's on a line – has her around the waist – they swing back towards the building she just robbed -
- inertia and surprise yank the bag from her fingers; it plummets and she hears glass crunch and tires squeal and if some idiot motorist just ran over her score -
- they spin and slam into the mirrored glass surface – somewhere around the fifth – the fourth floor.
She doesn't wait. She leverages herself free of his grip and drops.
The fall's going to hurt. She knows that. And it does, but she let Holly sew cat ears onto her mask for a reason, and it's not because they're slimming. She lands okay and looks around for her bag.
In the street, two uniformed officers are getting out of their black-and-white, weapons drawn, looking up. Looking up from the dented hood and the black bag slumped in the street beside the vehicle.
Of course. Of course her loot landed on a cop car.
She hisses again, low and in her throat. Presses back into the shadows along the ground floor of the building. How many more obstacles will she have to dodge tonight?
Batman glides overhead and one of the cops yells, "Don't shoot!"
The cops lower their guns and one of them moves to investigate the black bag. Her bag.
She hesitates half a heartbeat longer, then slips out into the street and goes around the back of the patrol car. Sneaks up behind the trigger-happy patrolman, who's still looking around for the Bat. She KO's him, takes his weapon, and uses it to "persuade" his partner to give her what she rightfully stole.
Then she slings the bag over her shoulder and hightails it into the night. Maybe, if she sticks to the ground, she can avoid the Bat…
The trouble with that line of thinking, though, is that the Gotham City Police Department is also on the ground, and it's important to remember that there are more cops than masked vigilantes in this town, especially now that the "shoot to kill" order on Batman has driven those poor pathetic copycats (copybats?) back into their basements.
She plays the odds and takes herself up to the rooftops again.
She gets almost two blocks before that black-winged shadow sweeps down in front of her. This time, in between her and the roof's edge.
"Give up," he says. His voice is harsh, rough, obviously put-on. He hasn't moved, but he dominates the space.
"Be gentle," she says, in her own false voice, dropping the pitch to a low velvet purr, hoping to provoke a reaction. "It's my first time."
He doesn't react.
She circles around cautiously, trying to put herself at a good angle for escape. But he moves with her. Blocking her. Not even really trying.
She could scream with frustration.
If I can just run, she thinks, I can get away.
His suit is built for fight, not flight; it's heavy, he's got all that gear. Her suit, however, is designed for stealth, for craft, for quick exits. And she's intimately familiar with this neighborhood.
She knows she can outrun him. The black bag in her hand is the only thing that might slow her down.
The black bag in her hand is the only thing that's trapping her on this roof, facing this man.
She hisses. She has to make a choice: Payday – or freedom.
Her grip tightens.
"Give me the bag," he says.
"Go fetch," she says abruptly, snarling it. She pirouettes and throws the bag at his face. He catches it, but in the half-second of distraction she darts across the distance between them and attacks.
The bag falls to the rooftop, spilling open – in her peripheral vision she catches the wink and sparkle of the jewels –
- he blocks a strike and she has to move fast to dodge the return -
- a helicopter thwaps by a block away, police searchlight flicking around hopelessly -
- her haul all over the roof now - damn that cop -
- she steps in close, angles her hip, trying for a throw – leverage, it's all about leverage with a stronger opponent – but he catches her leg and pulls her into the fall with him.
He gets her in a pin, pressing her down against the gravel, using his weight and size against her. She manages to pull one hand free. Slashes at his face.
He doesn't expect the claws.
Only one fingertip really connects, but it's enough. His hold breaks. She gets up and runs, fleet and dark and silent, towards her continued freedom.
But she has to leave the bag behind.
Now, she thinks - now she has two reasons to get even.
It takes her a while, laying false trails and staying low to keep out of sight, but eventually she gets home.
First things first: she greets her cat, who sniffs her gloves and purrs.
Then she strips off her gloves, her suit, her mask and goggles, and takes a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. The woman she sees doesn't look furious or frustrated at the loss of a night's hard work and a missed opportunity for revenge.
No. She looks excited.
Eyes sparkling. Grinning like a fool.
Exhilarated by the run and the fight and the overwhelming presence of the man who was trying to capture her.
She can't wait until the next time.