A/N: Before we start, I'd just like to give a head's up that this chapter is almost completely centered around Selina's point of view. I usually don't do that, but this one definitely called for it since the whole plot revolves around almost only her. Anyways, that's all I got for now, so happy reading! I hope you enjoy!
Wrath of the Victim
"A month!" Selina cried in indignation as Alfred bustled around her room, removing clothes from her closet and stuffing them hastily into her suitcase. "But…"
"No 'buts'!" Alfred replied. "Doctor's orders."
"But we're so close!" Selina protested. "We finally have a name after two years!"
"And it's waited that long, so it can wait another month," Alfred responded stubbornly. He slammed her suitcase shut and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Selina, this is for your own good. And it's not up for debate."
With that he whisked out of the room.
She huffed. She couldn't believe he was making her wait another whole month to find her parents' killer.
Then, she had an even more distraught-causing revelation…
"WAIT! THE DANCE IS IN TWO WEEKS!" she yelled, charging after him.
A month.
A whole freaking month, she sat in Switzerland doing utterly nothing but wishing she could be anywhere else. Well, technically she'd annoyed Alfred enough to get the trip cut down to three weeks, but it still felt like a small eternity since she'd last been in the city.
Then finally, graciously, their plane touched back down in Gotham.
Her first order of business: call Bruce.
She could've called him from Switzerland, but Alfred had all but banned her from doing so, meaning the last time she'd spoken with him had been right before they left, informing him that she was being dragged off to Europe and thereby couldn't go to the dance with him.
He'd seemed understanding, but she'd been pissed about it.
She still was.
And then Alfred had the nerve to call Dr. Thompkins over for a therapy session, first thing?
She loved Dr. Thompkins, but that was too far.
Alfred led her inside, avoiding the eye-daggers Selina had been sending him every since they arrived home. He dismissed himself and Selina sat down across from Lee on one of the couches in the study.
"So? What do you want?" Selina started, anxious to get the meeting over with.
"How was Switzerland?" Lee asked offhandedly, giving Selina that dazzling smile of hers.
What she would do to look like that…
No! That's just what Lee wanted her to do, get her distracted from the matter at hand. She wouldn't fall for her games.
"It was fine," she responded flatly. "Alfred said you wanted to talk to me," she stated, getting straight to the point.
"Alfred wanted me to speak with you. He's worried about you," Lee told her gently. "He's worried that you might be concealing any trauma you must be feeling."
Selina shook her head, inwardly scoffing. "He needn't worry. I tell him I'm fine, which I am, and he doesn't believe me."
"You were violently abducted," Lee stated. "You nearly died. You must have been very scared. It's normal to feel trauma, it's nothing you need to be ashamed of."
She shook her head. "I wasn't scared."
"No?" Lee asked. "What did you feel?"
"I felt alive," Selina replied. "Intensely alive. Do you…" she looked up at Lee, "do you think I'm abnormal?" she asked with fake worry in her voice.
Lee sighed, placing a comforting hand on Selina's knee. "You're certainly unusual. If you're being honest."
"I'm always honest," Selina replied a bit too quickly.
Lee nodded. "That's a good way to be. Tough to pull off."
"I try," Selina told her simply.
"And how do you feel now?" Lee asked.
"Like I said, I feel fine," Selina stated. "Invigorated." She smiled. "I have a second chance at life."
"What do you plan to do with that chance?" Lee asked.
Selina shook her head. "My plans are the same. Find the man who killed my parents."
Lee's eyes darkened slightly. "Selina, you need closure."
"Exactly."
"Closure," Lee repeated. "Not a dangerous and possibly endless obsession."
"I'll find him," Selina stated.
"How?" Lee asked. "Selina, you're a schoolgirl, not a homicide detective."
"I believe people can be two things at once. Don't you think so?" Selina asked.
"Yes, they can. So, you find the culprit. What then?" Lee asked her.
"I'll let the law take its course," Selina replied, although her eyes were now firmly planted on the floorboards.
"Is that the truthful answer?" Lee asked.
"It's the one I'm giving you," Selina replied bluntly.
"What happened to honest Selina?"
Selina shrugged. "That's a good question. I guess that's the other Selina." She dropped her gaze to the fireplace behind Lee. "Sorry. I don't mean to be flippant with you. This conversation has been very useful," Selina told her. "Clarifying. Perhaps we can do it again sometime."
Lee nodded slowly. "Sure. We can do that."
Lee went off to her car and Selina made a beeline for the nearest telephone. She typed in the number Bruce had given her a few months earlier after the Gang War had ended, the same one she'd used a month ago to let him know that she was leaving.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
The receiver finally picked up and she half-yelled, half-asked, "Bruce!?"
"No," a gruffer voice responded. "This is Ted Grant. Who is this?"
"Oh, um, I was told that this was Bruce Kyle's number?" she asked, ignoring his question about her name.
"He's not here right now, but I can take a message," Ted told her.
"Okay, well…" she blanked. "Can you tell him to…just tell him I need to talk to him."
"Sure thing, Miss?"
"Cat," Selina responded shortly.
"Okay…Miss Cat. I'll let him know."
"Thank you," Selina told him and with that she abruptly hung up.
Who was Ted Grant and, more importantly, where was Bruce?
She'd just have to wait.
For now, however, she had a lot of work to refresh herself on and an M. Malone to find.
Several hours later, Selina was still hunched over her father's desk in the secret room below the Manor, going over files for the five-hundredth time. There had to be something she'd missed…
She was so involved in the papers that she didn't notice Alfred's presence until he was waving a file under her nose.
Her eyes shot up to him in surprise. She breathed out and relaxed slightly, recognizing who it was. "Sorry, I didn't hear you," she told him.
"Yes, Miss Wayne, I got that."
She returned to her papers, asking, "Where'd you go, anyways?"
"I got held up in the city," he answered. "I thought your chat with Dr. Thompkins would keep you occupied."
She rolled her eyes. "And I thought you were against therapy."
"Well, that's before I realized you're still keen on keeping secrets," he retorted.
"If I'd told you what Bruce and I were doing, you would have stopped me. Because I didn't, I got the name of my parents' killer from Sterling," Selina told him, finally looking up from her papers as she told him off. "Then you made us leave Gotham. We lost a month we could have spent searching for M. Malone."
"We left the city because you were at the end of your emotional and physical rope, and quite frankly, you were incapable of catching a common cold let alone a killer." He set down the file he'd been holding, plopping it right in front of her face. "Now will you listen to me?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly. She looked up from her files, her eyes narrowed but her ears open. "Now, I need to ask you a very important question. Are we in this together, or not?"
Selina peered at him, curious as to where this was going. "Yes," she answered. He didn't seem convinced, so she elaborated, "We're in this together."
"Right, well, I had some business in the city. I went to see a sergeant I know and we did some digging in some GCPD files for any M. Malones that fit our particulars. Age, size, height, race. Whether they were free during the murder of your parents…"
Selina's eyes dropped to the new file sitting in front of her. "And?" she asked, hoping he meant what she thought he meant.
He placed a finger on the file, saying, "Patrick Malone."
She thought her heart was going to stop.
All that work, all the pain for a single name. A single file.
She wouldn't have traded anything in the world for that file. It was priceless.
And there it was, sitting right in front of her.
"Goes by the nickname 'Matches'," Alfred told her. "Delightful chap, really. Committed his first murder when he was fifteen. Suspected of half a dozen since."
Selina reached forward at a snail's pace, her hands shaking. She opened the file slowly, a mix of fear and anticipation at the prospect of seeing the face of the man who'd killed her parents.
It was almost kind of a letdown when she saw him.
He looked so…normal. Just like anyone else she'd pass on the streets of Gotham. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't that.
"Now, I need to ask you, if you were in charge, what next?" Alfred asked her.
Selina hesitated, some part of her not believing that this could be true. "You could've gotten this information from Detective Gordon. Why didn't you contact him?" she asked doubtfully.
"I'm the one asking questions now, Miss Wayne," Alfred told her. "We find this man," he started, placing a finger on Malone's picture, "what do you plan to do?"
She stared at the face of her parents' killer, the man who'd tried to ruin her life, the man who could've ended it had he chosen to. He wasn't like Sterling, or Galavan, or even Jack. They were human.
Matches Malone was not.
"Kill him," Selina stated coldly.
"No," Alfred replied simply.
"You can't stop me–" Selina started, standing up from her chair.
"I bloody can, and I will," Alfred told her. "You're too young to have a death on your conscience, Miss Wayne." Selina started to raise a protest, but Alfred continued, "I know how your parents deserve justice and I know you're not gonna stop till you find it. But when we find this Malone, I will kill him and not you." Selina's eyes widened in surprise. "That is the deal," Alfred stated. "Do you accept?"
Selina stared up at him. He'd kill Malone, and not her? Could she let him do that?
She swallowed, answering, "Yes."
"Say it," Alfred implored.
Selina took a deep breath. "We find him, we make him talk." She paused for a half of a second. "You kill him," she finished.
Alfred nodded, giving her a long look before turning and walking out of the cave.
Selina sat by the fire, boredly poking at the smoldering cinders.
She smiled.
"I felt the breeze when you came in the window," she said, never once removing her eyes from the dying flames.
Bruce huffed. "You're no fun anymore," he complained, turning to the couch and roughly plopping down on it.
She stood from the fireplace and smiled at him. His hair had gotten a little bit longer on the top, but the sides had been cut shorter than before. He looked…good. She smiled, again. "I'm glad you came. I need a favor," she told him.
Bruce scoffed. "Nice to see you, Bruce," he mocked. "Sorry for skipping town to go to my castle in France for a month."
"It's a chalet…" she started. He arched his brow and she finished in a mumble, "In Switzerland…"
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting Alfred to come bustling in and try to run him out of the house with a broom. "Where's the King of Snotty England?" he asked.
"Alfred went to the city," she replied. He nodded and sighed, nodding for her to get to whatever point she'd had for calling him. She picked up a file off of the coffee table, holding it up. "This is the man that Sterling told us about. Alfred tracked him down."
Bruce looked up at her in evident surprise. He reached out to take it, but she hesitated to give it to him. He got the memo and returned his hands to the pockets of his army jacket.
He nodded. "So, you found him. What do you need me for?" he asked.
"I need you to get me a gun," she told him, completely serious.
He paused, wondering if he'd heard her right. Then, he laughed out loud, but sobered up when he realized she wasn't laughing, too. "So," he started, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, "you're gonna kill him?"
"Yes," she replied curtly.
"Your butler know?" he asked hesitantly.
"Alfred thinks he's gonna be the one to kill him, that's why I'm asking you," she told him.
Bruce scoffed. "Selina, you couldn't even let Sterling St. Cloud die." He stood from the couch, getting slightly worked up, now. "So, how do you expect to do this?" he asked.
Selina went silent. He saw the cogs in her head turning, her expression becoming darker by the second. "Because this man killed my parents," she answered coldly.
Bruce shook his head. "You ever even fired a gun before?" he asked.
"Please, Bruce, you're the only person I can…" she started, turning towards him and lifting her gaze from the floorboards to meet his eyes.
"You don't even know what you're asking, Selina," he told her, intentionally using her real name instead of Cat. That's how serious this was to him. "What you're asking me to do. Yeah, sure, the guy deserves it. But doing this, you won't ever, ever be the same."
She stood from the couch, doing her best to stand eye-to-eye with him (even though she was still half a head shorter). "That's what I'm counting on," she told him, her eyes determined and stubborn.
His jaw clenched and she saw the cogs turning in his head, probably trying to find a way to convince her otherwise. But she was set.
He nodded slightly. "Okay," he said in a small voice. "If this is what you want." He turned away from her and started towards the window, saying over his shoulder, "I've gotta make a couple calls. I'll contact you when I have it."
He never once turned back to her, not even offering a simple 'Goodbye'.
She knew his stance on killing, how doing this was probably hurting him, but she needed him to do as she asked. And she knew she could count on him.
He'd understand…someday…
Selina briskly entered the alleyway. She reached a certain spot and checked her watch. She was on time…
She felt something brush up against her leg, to which she gave a muffled shriek.
It was just an alley cat nuzzling up against her. She smiled and squatted down to pet it, to which it purred in approval.
"Hey," a familiar voice said from in front of her.
She looked up at Bruce, smiling down at her and the cat. "Hey, yourself," she replied, standing up as the cat strolled off.
Bruce checked over his shoulder before reaching into his pocket and producing a small metal object.
A revolver.
Selina stared at it, her body frozen. It looked so similar to the one that'd been pointed at her all those years ago. The one that'd fired two rounds. Hopefully, she'd only have to fire one.
"What?" Bruce asked in confusion at her hesitation. "You asked me for it."
"I know–" she replied apprehensively.
"If you don't want it…" Bruce started, already moving to put it back into his pocket.
"I want it," she stated.
Bruce peered at her and she got the feeling he could see straight through her. "You look scared," he told her.
"I'm not." She held out her hand for the gun. He could obviously see it was shaking, but she tried to remain as steady as possible. Finally, he shook his head and placed the revolver in her palm. Selina weighed it in her hand. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small object. "Is it loaded?" she asked.
"Ain't no point in an unloaded gun," Bruce replied smartly. "Guns aren't for show, Selina. They're dangerous."
"Of course," she said. "But that's the point, right?" She slid the gun into her coat pocket.
Bruce nodded, but stalled. "Selina, are you sure about this? There's no going back."
She sighed. "Yes. I'm sure."
He looked so sad. It occurred to her that he'd been in the alleyway that night, too. He'd seen everything she had. Hell, he'd probably seen worse living in the Narrows.
So her taking a gun, and using him to get it…
She wanted to apologize, but she didn't know for what. And if she did, her resolve might slip.
So, she turned away from him, quietly saying, "Thank you, B," over her shoulder as she walked out of the alleyway, leaving Bruce Kyle behind.
He'd understand…someday…
Alfred eventually came to, although it was in a hospital bed. They'd gone after one of Matches known associates, a giant of a man named Cupcake. And they found him, alright. Cupcake had agreed to give Malone's location in exchange for 50 grand, and a fight with Alfred. Alfred eventually won by a rear naked choke, but the victory had come at a steep price.
"How do you feel?" Selina asked tentatively.
"A couple of hours kip, and I'll come up lovely," Alfred replied hazily, still on a high from the drugs he'd been administered.
"Good."
"You stay here," Alfred told her weakly. "You ain't going nowhere till I'm up and about, all right?"
"Yes. I hear you," Selina responded.
"Promise me, Miss Wayne," he insisted, although his eyes were rapidly closing.
"Say again?" Selina asked.
Alfred fell asleep.
Selina removed the gun from her pocket, staring at it. She slipped it back inside and whispered to Alfred, "Sorry," before walking out of the room.
Selina approached the night club Cupcake had told them about. A bodyguard outside held up a hand for her to stop, which she did. A moment of panic passed through her mind, wondering what the man would do. She was clearly underage…
"Hey there," he said with a knowing smirk.
"Yes, sir?" she asked, keeping her voice low and her eyes narrowed.
He chuckled, nodding towards the door. "Have fun."
Selina gave him a quick mischievous grin before entering the club. Rock music was blaring and strobe lights lit the place up white and red. The main singer leapt off of the stage and crowd-surfed all the way up to Selina.
"Ha!" she exclaimed. "Hello, Selina. What took you so long?"
"I'm looking for Jeri," Selina replied coolly, trying not to be thrown off by the woman's odd appearance and makeup.
"Yeah, you are," the woman agreed, turning and saying, "Follow me."
The woman led her all the way through the club, past private rooms of scantily clad people doing things she couldn't describe without gagging.
Finally, they reached a room in the back of the building that looked like a cross between an office and a hair and makeup room. Jeri stepped inside and called, "Come. Take a pew. Iced tea? Soda?"
"No, thank you," Selina replied as the door was closed behind her.
"You like the show?" the woman asked.
Selina nodded. "I liked it. Are you Jeri?"
The woman chuckled. "Some people call me that." She took a seat at the makeup table and asked, "What? What can I do for you?"
"Oh… Sorry. You know my name, so Cupcake called you. I assumed you already know why I'm here," Selina told her.
"I just want you to say it," Jeri replied.
"I'm looking for Matches Malone," Selina stated.
"Why?"
"He killed my parents," Selina answered.
"What you gonna do if you find him?" Jeri asked.
"Ask him some questions." She paused. "Kill him."
Jeri laughed at her. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Killing people isn't, you know, that easy. Hey, maybe you've killed people before. You've killed people before, blood?"
"No," Selina replied simply. "But no one's killed my parents before."
Jeri nodded. "Well, Matches has killed dozens of people. Men, women, children. He's a professional." She turned around to the mirror and started working on her elaborate stage makeup. "And what exactly are you?" she asked.
"Do you know where he is?" Selina asked.
"Of course I know where he is, he's a friend of mine," Jeri replied. "You gonna give me a good reason to tell you where he is?"
"Justice."
Jeri laughed. "Oh please."
"Money."
"No. I don't care about money. Try something else."
Selina reached into her pocket and removed the small object. "I have a gun," she told Jeri.
Jeri looked up at her from the mirror and nodded. "That's a good reason."
"Please," Selina asked. "Tell me where he is."
Jeri rolled her eyes, grabbing onto Selina's hand and placing the gun at her forehead. "Come on, kid, you ain't even pointing it at me!" She chuckled as Selina removed the gun. "What is your problem?"
"I've been told it's unwise to point a gun at someone if you're not ready to shoot them," Selina told her. "And I'm not."
Jeri nodded. "Very wise young lady."
Selina turned and started to walk away. She paused and turned back to the woman, saying, "Thank you, Jeri. It's been interesting talking to you."
She started back towards the door.
"Matches lives in that big building on Grand Street between 9th and 10th," Jeri called. "Apartment 9B."
Selina stared at her in confusion. "Why did you tell me that?" she asked. "I thought he was your friend."
"He is," Jeri replied. "Well, he was. Matches is gonna be happy to see you," Jeri told her. "You, my girl, are the childish hand of fate. Well, that makes me God, in a way, doesn't it?" She chuckled and turned back to the mirror. "And who doesn't like to play God?"
Selina found the building pretty easily. An elevated train track ran next to it, causing the whole complex to shake when a train passed by. Lights flashed through the darkened windows.
She ascended up the steps quickly, attempting to put as much distance between her and Jeri's place as possible. Who knew when Alfred would wake up?
But, at the moment, she had a bigger problem.
Standing in front of her was an old, wore-down door with a big brass 9B on it.
She stared at it in hesitation.
Slowly, she raised her fist and timidly knocked on the door, keeping her other hand planted firmly on the revolver in her coat.
She paused.
A part of her was screaming at her to turn and run, but she didn't.
The deadbolt slid back from the inside and her throat and chest seized up. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
She looked down and, when the door opened, the first thing she saw was a pair of shiny black shoes.
She looked up.
She wanted to scream.
Standing across from her was Matches Malone. He looked older than when his photograph had been taken, his eyes sunken and his face appearing almost skeletal. His cold dead eyes looked at her without emotion.
"M-M-Matches Malone?" she stuttered out.
He nodded ever so slightly, humming a yes.
Her chest released, her throat unwinding itself as a new emotion took over.
Anger. Hatred. Loathing.
No word could describe how she felt in that moment.
All she knew: she was going to kill this man.
She reached into her coat pocket and removed a large roll of money, holding it out for him to see.
"I want to hire you," she told him calmly, her face settling into a relaxed smirk. It was odd. She felt more at ease now that she was lying to him. Now, the ball was in her court.
Malone gave a light chuckle. He stepped back into his small, smelly apartment and muttered, "Kids now." He grabbed a bottle of beer from the counter and Selina entered, closing the door behind her. He took a long swig of it and asked, "So you want to hire me?"
"I want someone to die," Selina told him. The best liars always tell the truth…she could thank Bruce Kyle for that one. And that statement was true. She did want someone to die.
Malone smirked, wittily saying, "Wait a while. They will."
"I can believe that…" she started, eyeing the man up and down. She'd seen skeletons in science class with more meat on their bones than him. "But I don't wanna wait."
Malone narrowed his eyes. "You're kind of young to be putting out contracts."
"I'm old enough," she replied. She cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Are you a proficient killer?"
"I thought you wanted to hire me," Malone complained. "You didn't say nothing about a job interview."
"I have to be sure I'm getting the right man," Selina told him.
"Don't you know a killer when you see one?" Malone lulled.
She scoffed. "Actually, you look very ordinary. Have you killed a lot of people?"
He shrugged. "I've killed all kind of folks just about every way you can. Rich, poor, guilty, innocent," he shook his head, making his way over to a small round table in the middle of the room and slumping into the chair. "By hand, by blade, by gun. Burn just one guy to death, they call you Matches the rest of your days," he said with a dark chuckle. "Life's funny, isn't it." Selina stared at him silently. He had no idea what was about to happen… "Cat got your tongue?" he asked. She stayed silent. "What's the matter, kid? You sick?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm fine. Nervous is all," she told him. But in truth, she wasn't. She was going to kill him and it didn't bother her one bit. "You seem to be the right man."
"Damn right, I am," he replied. He placed his drink down on the table and said, "Price starts at 10 grand or so for a simple hit on an adult male vic, then there's a sliding scale depending on how hard the job is. I charge double for women, and triple for kids." He poured himself another cup of whatever he was drinking and groveled, "No babies. I won't kill babies."
Selina shook her head in disbelief. "Ten grand? That's cheap."
Malone shrugged. "Low overhead. Who do you want dead, girl?"
Selina cocked her head to the side and took a few steps towards him, her hand absently drifting to her coat pocket. She shook her head and scoffed. "You really don't remember me, do you?"
He looked very confused. "Remember you?" He shook his head. "No. We've met before?"
"Yes, we've met before," she told him. Her hand started shaking, the confidence she'd been trying to build starting to crumble in the face of what she was about to do. But she had to see it through. If she didn't…he might kill her. Survival of the fittest…
She drew the gun from her pocket and leveled it at his chest.
Malone didn't even flinch, staring down the barrel as if it was more of a bother than an immediate threat to his life.
"You killed my parents," she stated, her voice cracking at the end.
This time, his eyes widened in surprise, although slight. "Oh…"
He leaned back in his chair, dropping his arms to his sides.
"Keep your hands where I can see them," Selina commanded.
He obliged, earnestly saying, "Relax, girly. I won't jump you. I could if I wanted to, but…" He sighed deeply. "I'm too tired." He looked up at her, asking, "Who are you now?"
"My name is Selina Wayne," she replied, her determined expression splitting into a sneer.
He nodded. "When was this we met before?"
"Two years ago," she told him, her confidence wavering. Maybe…maybe this wasn't the right guy… "An alley in the theater district," she elaborated. "You killed my mother and father, Thomas and Martha Wayne." She swallowed as the picture came back to her mind. "I was there."
He looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to remember. "Rings a bell…" he mumbled offhandedly.
"You looked right at me," she said quietly.
He spread his hands and shrugged, saying, "I was busy that year."
"My-my parents were important people," she stuttered, feeling tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes. In all the time she'd imagined how this moment would go down, all the different scenarios that'd run through her mind, this was not one of them. "It was a big deal in all the newspapers."
He shook his head. "I don't read the papers much. Don't watch TV. It's always the same bad news."
A tear broke free and streaked down her cheek. "You really don't remember?" she asked, her heart broken for a reason she didn't know.
"Oh, hey, some of 'em stick with you," he told her. "There was this mustached fella, he was a big fat crybaby, comes back to me in my dreams all the time, like he's important…" He shrugged. "I can't even recall his name. Did I stab him? Toss him off a roof?" He shook his head. "I don't know."
"My parents were in evening clothes," she started. "It was cold and wet." She saw him narrow his eyes, as if trying to remember. "You grabbed my mother's pearl necklace, it broke."
A wave of remembrance passed over his face, saying, "Oh…Oh, yeah. And the beads went everywhere," he described victoriously. "Coming back to me now. Nice looking blonde lady, silver fox type dude, and a kid…" He slowly looked up at her. "That was you?"
She swallowed. "That was me." She grit her teeth and spat out, "Who hired you?"
He shrugged. "Maybe nobody did. Maybe I just saw some rich suckers. Somebody like that walks into a dark alley, they deserved it 'cause they let it happen." He shook his head. "That's the way of the world, isn't it, child?"
"Don't call me that," she spat, raising the gun from his chest to his head.
"Why?" he asked. "If I did what you think I did, then I made you what you are. Just like Gotham made me. Just like the rich folks like your parents made Gotham." He chuckled. "I might as well call you my own child."
"I can make you tell me who hired you," she hissed.
"You think so?"
"I could hurt you. I can shoot you in the knee." She lowered the gun to his abdomen, the same place that Jack had lodged his own gun into Sterling's chest. "Or the stomach."
"But you can't make me tell you a damn thing," he replied boredly. "Killer's code ain't much, but it's what I've got. If I did what you say I did and someone hired me to do it, you'll never know their name," he growled. "Not if you take me apart piece by piece. You better believe that."
She gave a small nod, raising her other hand and pulling back the hammer of the gun. "Well, then I guess there's nothing left to say," she told him.
She saw his lip quiver as the hammer locked into place. He reached forwards slowly and took his glass, raising it into the air in a toast. "Here's to you, child," he whispered. "You've been a long time coming."
"You want me to kill you?" she asked confusedly. He nodded. "Why?"
"Little rich kid like you wouldn't understand," he told her, his eyes dropping to the floor.
"Try me."
Malone looked close to tears, making him look even more pitiful than he already did. "A man gets tired," he said. "Doing wrong and going unpunished. Nothing happens. You start to wonder if there is a God." His lip quivered uncontrollably as he finished off his glass, setting it down hard on the table. He took a deep breath. "Tighten your left hand grip," he told her. "Aim right here," he said, pointing at a spot on his chest, the same spot where her parents had been shot, "a little low. She'll kick."
Time slowed down, the same way it had when her parents had been shot. Everything went silent, drowned out by the beating of her own heart. She got tunnel vision. This man ruined her life, he was evil, he'd killed dozens. He wasn't Sterling. He hadn't been forced to become this, he'd chosen to. He deserved to die.
She placed her finger on the trigger for the first time since she'd gotten the gun, aiming it a little low like Matches had advised.
For her parents…
She pulled the trigger.
There was a small click as the parts moved.
The hammer came crashing down.
She saw Matches close his eyes.
The hammer met its mark as the barrel rotated into position.
…
…
…
But there was no gunshot.
No crack like the one she'd heard in the alleyway.
The gun didn't kick back like Malone said it would.
No small, dark red dot appeared on his shirt.
Matches opened his eyes.
Panic seized Selina's body and she froze.
Then, Malone started laughing. "Misfired…" he muttered in between chuckles, reaching forwards for his bottle and glass and pouring himself another drink. "Well that must be a sign…"
Her arms slowly lowered as she shook in terror. What would he do, now?
She'd just tried to kill him…
He set down the now empty glass and held out a hand, saying, "Give me the gun, child." She didn't move a muscle. He roared, "GIVE IT!"
She moved forwards ever so slightly, just enough for him to be able to take the gun from her hands.
He shook his head and told her, "Now get outta here before I change my mind and finish the job."
Her eyes widened, "Finish the…" she started.
He raised an eyebrow and growled, "Go."
She slowly turned around and exited the apartment, not truly believing what had just happened to be a reality.
She'd gone there to kill him, and he'd shown mercy to her.
But she'd tried to kill him…and she would've done it…
What was happening to her?
Matches scoffed, unloading the gun's chamber onto the table. Six bullets clattered onto the surface. "Blanks…" he muttered with a small chuckle. "You were right about her, kid," he called. "She would've done it."
Bruce stepped out of the dark hallway off to the side.
Malone shook his head. "You got the payment?" he asked.
Wordlessly, Bruce reached into his backpack and removed a bottle of whiskey, the Dalmore 62. It was worth over a hundred-thousand dollars easily.
Malone sighed contently as he took it in his hands. "Now this right here, kid, is a bottle of alcohol. Been dying to try it…"
"Knock yourself out," Bruce growled as he passed Malone, making his way towards the door as quickly as possible. He wanted out of that house.
"Why'd you do it?" Malone called.
Bruce stopped dead in his tracks. "What's it to you?" he asked over his shoulder.
Malone shrugged. "Oh, curious is all."
"She has no idea what killing someone would've done to her," Bruce replied. "Just look at you. I can't…I won't let her become that."
"For her sake or for yours?" Malone lulled.
Bruce didn't reply and Malone smiled, popping open the bottle and pouring himself a large cup of it. He raised it in the air in toast and then threw it back. He set the glass down, reached into his pocket, opened the gun's chamber, and slid a new, live bullet into it. He placed it back on the table and poured himself another drink. "I've gotta say, kid," Malone started, "of all the jobs I've done in my life, this one paid the best."
Bruce exited the small apartment, leaving Matches to drink his life away.
He'd found him weeks ago, depressed at best and at worst, suicidal. But, he'd convinced him to do one more job. One last job.
If he had to guess, Matches Malone would be dead by dawn via suicide.
And Selina Wayne would remain alive, physically unscathed, and without the burden and guilt of a murder on her shoulders.
He knew that she wanted him dead, but he couldn't let her take that burden upon herself. She wasn't ready.
She'd understand...someday...
Alfred had looked everywhere for Selina, frantically screaming her names as he ran through the halls of the Manor. But she was nowhere to be found.
He opened the secret passage through the study's fireplace and bustled down the stairs, into the dark, cold room. "Miss Wayne!" he called.
No reply.
He about turned on his heel to search the house, again, but something caught his eye. A letter, calmly laying on the edge of the desk. His name was on it.
He opened it hastily and read:
Alfred,
I've left home for a while to live on the streets with Bruce. Please. Wait and listen before you react. I need time to sort everything out. You needn't worry that I've lost my mind or that I'm in danger. I've thought about this decision long and hard, and I think it's the best one I can make right now. Bruce is going to help me control what I've been feeling over the past few months.
I've been on a downward spiral ever since my parents were killed, and it's only gotten worse as of late. I was too scared to help when the Maniax took you. I was too blind to see that Galavan and Sterling were manipulating me. I was ruthless when I got my hands on Sterling. Then I was completely okay with dying at his hands in order to help him.
And to top it all off, I tried to kill Malone. I pulled the trigger. But I got lucky.
I need to learn how to live in the same world that people like Matches live in, to try and correct the mistakes I've made and prevent new ones. To rebuild myself.
Bruce has given me a place to sleep and will show me the ropes. I know how you feel about him, but he knows Gotham better than anyone. He's been surrounded by the same things I'm dealing with for his entire life, and he's learned how to live in those conditions without being corrupted by them. So I can do it, too.
I'll be in touch soon, and I'll come home eventually.
Please, Alfred, trust me, and honor my wishes. Don't try to bring me back. I need to do this.
Sincerely, your good friend,
~Selina
A/N: This upcoming arc is literally my favorite of the whole show, so I'm super pumped for it! I'd like to point out that originally this post was going to be in the range of 8,000-9,000 words, but I decided to completely cut out the scene with Cupcake since I made no changes whatsoever to the canon events.
Also, did anyone like the title? 'Wrath of the Victim'? I'm really proud of that one. (The second half of Season 2 is called Wrath of the Villains for those who don't know) Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and make sure to review if you have any comments/questions/critiques or suggestions! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!
PS. I've had an idea I've been kicking around in my head for over a year now for a series of inter-connected oneshots about Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle's adventures during this upcoming arc while they're living on the streets together. If you'd be interested, please let me know! (Preferably in the Review section since my Private Messaging system has been acting up as of recent).
