Gotham City
Present Day
Drescher District
11:37 P.M.
Gotham City.
A city of villains. A city of heroes.
A city of ordinary people living their lives in the shadows of extraordinary beings.
Spanning over miles and miles of Gothic and art-deco architecture, the city bears the outward appearance of a modernized metropolis. Skyscrapers towering above the general populace, factories snorted out pillars of smoke into the already polluted atmosphere, centuries-old cathedrals and warehouses remained unmolested by the growing expansion of more updated and technologically advanced establishments, but the looming threat of the deep-rooted criminal underbelly permeated every street and alleyway.
From the ephemeral Wayne Enterprises tower that emblazoned the logo of the company at the very heart of the city on Miagani Island, the infamous Ace Chemicals plant that housed the birth of the Joker at the hands of the Dark Knight himself, and even the illuminating Bat-Signal that lit up the moonlit sky which emitted from the rooftop of the GCPD building, Gotham was also a city defined by its almost mythological iconography.
Criminal factions and gangs inevitably rose up to fill the void left by the Dark Knight's conspicuous sabbatical, waging wars on the streets for supremacy with innocent pedestrians often amongst the casualties inflicted. On a smaller scale, convenience stores and small-town businesses were being robbed and looted ad nauseam while civilians were preyed upon by the superstitious and cowardly, creating a seemingly never-ending cycle of criminal acts and turmoil that have constantly plagued the GCPD as well the few vigilante heroes who have stepped up to carry the burden of the city's caped and cowled protector.
Nowhere is this vicious cycle of crime and calamity more apparent than the Drescher District at Founder's Island.
Once the esteemed centerpiece of Gotham bolstered by the extravagant Wayne International Plaza, it was now a criminal paradise populated by the very worst of the city's inhabitants. The sound of police sirens and screaming victims echoed throughout the lower levels of the island, accompanied by the occasional string of gunshots.
However, the shadow of death and violence seemed to skip over one section of the island.
Two street thugs guarded the entrance to a refurbished building with a built-in garage door. Wielding military-grade assault rifles and wearing Kevlar vests, they both dutifully stood watch over the entrance while nervously glaring up at the sky every now and then.
However, a terse silence was the only thing exchanged between them. Occasionally checking their weapons, they remained on guard until one of them cleared his throat loudly.
"So, how was your day?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Pretty productive actually. I robbed some rich prick and his wife off the corner of Grand Avenue a couple of hours ago," the other one remarked cheerfully.
"Nice. You get anything shiny out of it?"
"Just a couple of dead presidents from him. Enough to make this month's rent for sure, but his wife's pearl necklace was the real keeper. Bet I could sell that shit on eBay for like, a whole lot of money," he boasted proudly, resting the stock of the weapon on his shoulder.
"No doubt," his partner agreed. "One thing's for sure. It'll be a lot more than what the boss is paying us to stand out here all night."
"If he even pays us. Once that Vale lady starts connecting the dots with what happened to Maroni, only a matter of time before the pigs start coming. Then we're all screwed," the other one lamented.
His colleague thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, but I'd rather have the GCPD on my ass any day than the Bat. Least we can pay off a cop, but Batman don't play around. He makes me wish I never dropped out of middle school to begin with."
"True that. Good thing the Bat-freak is still in Arkham City. Last thing we need is-"
SCREEECH!
A pair of headlights accompanied by tires screeching to an abrupt halt suddenly cut off their conversation and put them both on edge. Snapping into action with their fingers curled around the triggers, they each took aim at the vehicle as it just barely managed to swerve into a halt a few inches away from the sidewalk.
The lights dimmed to reveal a gray decade-old compact car, the automobile still growling as they surrounded it with rifles shakily aimed at its driver.
"Let me see your hands, asshole! Turn the car off now, or we'll waste you right here and now," one of them barked, smacking the butt of his automatic weapon against the hood before backing off cautiously.
"Yeah man, don't try none of that ninja shit. We'll see it!" the other one added in a menacing voice, his voice still quivering.
The car's engine died as the driver turned the key in the ignition, slowly raising his hands above his head as the thug closest to him jabbed at his car window with his rifle muzzle.
"Come out slowly, asshole," he ordered, as the man frantically opened his door and climbed out.
"Guys, it's me! It's T!" the driver yelled, getting out of the car with his hands still raised.
Thanks to a nearby light pole, his frightened facial expression became fully illuminated for the security duo to see.
Upon this revelation, they exchanged glances to confirm what they were both thinking before reluctantly lowering their weapons.
"Turner, what the hell man? With all the shit going down lately, Mr. Falcone's orders are to shoot on sight if you pull stunts like this. You could've at least radioed ahead," one of them demanded.
"Forget that. Mike, listen to me. Something bad went down at My Alibi," he started to explain in between breaths.
The thug named Mike merely snickered. "What, you couldn't get a hole in one with those bimbos or something?"
"No, idiot," he grated irritably, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before continuing. "It's the Cat bitch. She's onto us. Don't know how, but she wasn't alone. You-know-who was with her."
"Voldemort?" the other one suggested, earning a scathing glare from his partner.
"No Cutter, he's talking about Batman. And I thought you couldn't read anyways," Mike corrected irritably, only for Cutter to shrug.
Turner facepalmed, muttering to himself for a few seconds about his current company before looking up.
"Guys, can we please get back to the musclehead freak with body armor who could put all of us in critical at Gotham General unless we do something?" he pressed.
"You shitting me right now, T? The boss is already stressed as is, but you wanna bring the freakin' Bat into the conversation? How'd he even know we had guys at My Alibi anyways?" Mike demanded, still not entirely convinced.
"I dunno, didn't get the chance to ask maybe because Catwoman was busy clawing my damn eyes out," Turner shouted exasperated, gesturing angrily at a bleeding laceration running down his cheek before again calming himself.
"Look, I know that the boss doesn't wanna hear about this but he's gonna need some heads-up. I was lucky to get away while they were busy beating on our boys. Least we can be prepared, right?" he finally proposed, a point that that the two guards could finally agree on.
"Yeah, you're right. Even if the Bat's back in town, he wouldn't have the balls to go through all our guys to get to the boss. Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up? We'll keep watch up here in case either one of them shows," Cutter agreed.
"Hopefully I'm not too late," he grumbled to himself, before walking past them.
Staring up at a mounted security camera on a window ledge that craned towards him, he tapped his foot impatiently before the automatic locks to the front door unlocked and he disappeared into the building.
Catwoman observed all of this with rolled eyes through her visor as she remained perched in a feline pose on a rooftop parallel to Falcone's hideout.
Bringing her cupped hand up to her face in contemplation while fingering her black neck choker, she checked the screen on Batman's handheld tracking device one last time before depositing it again in her cleavage.
Eyeing the mounted set of video cameras positioned a few yards above the guards' heads warily, she let her eyes level with the slightly higher rooftop of Falcone's hideout.
By her calculations it was a risky jump, but not any more than any other jewel heist she's done before. Making a rough estimate on the distance she needed to cover in a single leap, the femme fatale took a deep breath before rising to her feet.
Taking a few steps backward to build up momentum, her experienced eyes continued to scan the building for any possibly hidden cameras.
Pinpointing the exact arc of her aerial trajectory and where she could land if, her gaze lowered to the still oblivious morons with guns at the front entrance before returning to the task at hand.
Grounding herself for a moment, she cracked her neck calmly before taking off in a running start.
Building up speed with every soft click of her heels, she steadied her form as she reached the edge of the rooftop and then leaped into the moonlit sky.
"I tell ya Cutter, all the freaks are coming out tonight. First the Cat, now the Bat. How much you bettin' on that green goof from Dixon coming onto our territory?" Mike smirked, fishing in his pocket for a cigarette.
Resting his gun against his shoulder, Cutter almost snorted in laughter. "Who, you mean Kite Man?"
"Hell yeah," his partner beamed, completely oblivious to the feminine silhouette soaring in the air above him.
Just barely managing to sink her claws into the Gothic exterior of the building, Catwoman's veteran instincts kicked in as her flailing legs immediately straightened and dug into the window ledge.
Bringing her knees up as she got a better grip on the bricked surface, Selina briefly glanced downwards at the two thugs still conversing amongst themselves before raising her gaze upwards.
Digging her heels in, she pushed off her current position and quickly grasped onto a hanging ledge with both hands. Using her forearms to steady herself, she continued to scale the building in quick pounces before disappearing from their periphery altogether.
As her clawed fingers wrapped around the edge of the rooftop, she started to lift herself up before a sudden red beam pointing in her direction forced an instinctive duck.
Waiting until the beam had finished sweeping over her end of the rooftop, she slowly brought her cowl up above the edge and spotted the source.
A sentry gun, military-grade by the looks of it, had been installed right in the middle of the rooftop with its turret automatically oscillating in all directions. Attached to the muzzle of the weapon was a miniature video camera with lens focusing in on where the crimson laser was currently aimed at.
"Well that's new," she thought to herself, forced to wait as the sentry gun pivoted back around again over her position.
Then, as soon as she felt the palpable heat of the laser pass over her cowl Catwoman sprang into action.
Racing across the ground with the nighttime breeze caressing her face, she picked up speed as the sentry gun began to circle back around.
Stopping in front of a ventilation duct, she expertly loosened the screws holding the metal lid in place with her patented claws before removing it and gently placing it on the ground.
Grabbing onto the rectangular opening with both hands, she swiftly maneuvered the rest of her slender body through the opening and slid down the duct.
As she continued to plummet into darkness, Selina instinctively spread her arms out and let her claws scrape against the duct tiles to slow her descent.
Hitting rock bottom only a moment later, she crawled through the narrow space on all fours despite the occasional cobwebs obscuring her vision. Heading towards the sound of male voices, she squeezed her way through a tight corner before finally reaching a dead end in the metallic maze.
Turning her head towards the shaft opening, her hands were instantly at work twirling all the screws loose when suddenly a pair of boots stomped down on the floor next to her.
"I tell ya Richie, that girl wanted it bad. You shoulda seen her back there. Yeah, of course she was on her knees..."
The sound of the man's perverse glee only incensed the cat burglar further, who resumed her efforts removing the metallic cover and crawling out.
Now facing the thug from behind, she first eyed his assault rifle casually slung over his shoulder before stalking towards him silently.
Continuing to speak loudly into the cell phone pressed against his ear, he was none the wiser as he sauntered forwards through the hallway.
"It's a shame the boss wanted all of them, though. Speaking of, I gotta get back to my shift. I'll talk you later Richie," he said, ending the phone call and lowering the cell phone.
Not even a second after he had pocketed the phone, Catwoman mounted his shoulders from behind before somersaulting to the ground with her legs now squeezed against his unsuspecting head.
Flipping him over to the floor with her thighs now constricted around his neck, she quickly locked in a headscissors to prevent him from alerting his colleagues.
His surprised yelp quickly became a muffled whimper as he fought to free himself, his hands clawing desperately at her powerful thighs. Leaning back while continuing to cut his oxygen off, Selina casually checked her fingernails as his struggles became more and more reticent as seconds went by.
Finally, after one last desperate lunge for his discarded weapon the thug slumped back and grew limp in her vice grip. As his head rolled back unto her lap, Selina scooted back and extricated her legs from his now unconscious body.
Standing up, she surveyed her surroundings for any immediate danger before stepping over him and taking off in the direction of even more masculine voices.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"Does this look like a joke to you?" Turner growled, jabbing his finger irritably at the facial wound inflicted by the feline fatale. Now, he had a rag pressed against his face to suppress any further bleeding.
Four of Falcone's henchmen had just finished listening as Turner painstakingly recalled the events at My Alibi, all of them gathered around a stripped down compact car in the garage area. Half of them were mechanics as evidenced by the metal tools that they wielded, while the other two hefted Uzis.
"I'm still not buying it. Catwoman maybe, but no way the Bat's back. This city ain't his anymore," one of them scoffed dismissively.
"Yeah, and if he's got a problem with Mr. Falcone he can take it up with our friends down at the docks. Everyone in this city knows the Falcone family has protection now," another one chimed in confidently much to Turner's chagrin.
"Look, bottom line is you guys are running a skeleton crew right now. Believe what you want, but in case the Cat bitch does come knocking on our door don't you think we should at least be at full strength?" he stressed, a point that they reluctantly had to concede.
One of them who had been shuffling his feet nervously finally spoke up. "Maybe there's some truth to what T's saying, you know. I think my rash is coming back and-"
A thug facepalmed in defeat. "For the last time Mitch, your skin condition ain't got nothing to do with the Bat showing up. Didn't you pay attention to what that Thorne guy at Elliot General said?"
"Hey man, I know my body. And I know for a fact that my skin starts itching every time the Bat gets near us. Almost like a premonition, you know," Mitch pointed out, before lamenting, "Man I hate that guy!"
"Then you're gonna love me!"
All five heads immediately turned to the source of the feminine voice emitting above them.
Catwoman casually leaned over a raised platform overlooking the garage, leering at their surprised looks and angry scowls.
"Now I don't know about Batman, but I'd be glad to give you a little cat scratch fever," she smiled, playfully unsheathing her clawed glove for effect.
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Turner groaned, smartly backing away as the others brandished their weapons after getting over their initial shock and awe.
"It's Catwoman!"
"How'd the hell she get in here?"
"Screw that. I know how she's getting out!" one of them snarled, cocking his Uzi menacingly.
"Fortunately for you boys, I'm looking for your boss so I'll make this quick," she purred, before adding with a lecherous grin, "You boys should pretty much be used to that feeling anyways, right?"
"Finish this, bitch!" one of them growled through gritted teeth, before levelling his Uzi at the catwalk and firing.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Nimbly balancing both feet on the metal railing, Kyle sprinted along the bars in acrobatic fashion to avoid the first volley of lead that narrowly missed her catsuit.
Jumping off and unwinding her whip in mid-air, she cracked the whip to her right and managed to latch on to a dangling ceiling light while swinging her voluptuous form downward towards the ground floor.
The hailstorm of bullets suddenly died down as the two gunmen scrambled to reload their weapons, providing the cat burglar with the ideal window to pounce down.
"Ummph…." Both feet crashed into one of the thug's chests as she improvised a quick landing, bringing all of her body weight down facefirst on his unsuspecting sternum.
As he collapsed to the ground with a gasp, a metallic blur caught the edge of her periphery prompting her to arch her back downwards.
The wrench instead swung past her mask and smashed in one of the twin headlights of the car, much to the wielder's frustration.
Continuing to roll backwards until she clambered up to both feet, she took off towards the wrench-wielding thug just as the thug whom she had pounced on staggered to his feet.
Easily ducking the man's overhead swing with his weaponized tool, she instead wrapped her forearms around his chest as she sidestepped around him lifting both knees up to her chest.
Just as the second thug was about to take aim with his Uzi, she thrusted both legs forward and delivered a swift dropkick that sent him flying backwards into the hood of the car with authority.
As soon as the back of his head smacked painstakingly against the now cracked windshield, he immediately grew limp and slumped against the dented metal.
With the gunman incapacitated, she then used the forward momentum to snake up and around his back. Performing an unorthodox backflip while using his neck for support, she landed on her feet to his right while managing to wrestle his melee weapon away from him in the process.
Just as he realized its absence, she smacked him square across the face with the wrench in an absolute brutal overhead swing that immediately felled him.
Not even one second after the wrench clanged harmlessly to the ground the remaining gunman emerged from her left and opened fire.
Throwing herself to the opposite side of the car as the bullets tore through the floor in wild bursts and tore up the car's exterior, she slid across the floor away from his line of sight.
Stalking around the dented hood with his gun raised, he grinned confidently as he spotted her leathery outline leaning against the car door.
"Ain't so chatty now, huh Cat bi-Arghhh!" His smug diatribe was interrupted by the car door unceremoniously slamming into his face, courtesy of the Cat herself.
Aa soon as the now bullet-ridden window smashed full frontal into his face, he stumbled backwards groggily while blindly grabbing at his now distorted facial features.
Standing up, Selina causally closed the door before running up to the side of the car and jumping off the windshield to gain some air.
Then, just before he could regain his bearings she knocked him back down for the count with a flying elbow to the jaw.
Leaning up against the now destroyed car as she sprung back up to her feet, her moment's respite was suddenly interrupted by a masculine cry emitting from her blindside.
"Hah!" The final thug swung a crowbar into the rear-view mirror she had just leaned up against, immediately breaking the glass and bending the protective metal downwards.
His raw fury at the feline fatale avoiding his surefire swing fueled his next move as he suddenly grabbed her by the cowl just as she had scurried free and yanked her back violently towards the car.
Slamming her against the car door by the scruff of her collar, he tossed aside the crowbar and instead unveiled a cordless impact wrench in his right hand.
Keeping his left forearm pinned against her throat, he activated the power tool and began slowly introducing the rotating metallic mass towards her bulging right eye. Relying on his superior body weight to keep the cat burglar restrained, he gave off a sadistic grin in preparation to deliver a high torque output reserved for automobile repair to the woman's retina.
Initially keeping both hands wrapped around his wrist, Catwoman tilted her head to the side and quickly formulated a Plan B.
One second later, she stretched out her left arm and swiftly slashed his face with her clawed glove to force a reprieve.
The thug's hubris immediately dissipated as a guttural scream escaped his lips, causing him to violently lurch backwards then by sheer adrenaline push forwards without warning.
Bzzzzzzzzt! The twisted metallic piece suddenly drilled into the car's dented exterior, just barely nicking her cowl.
With his attention sufficiently occupied, Catwoman easily wriggled free of his now limp grip and disappeared underneath his left armpit. Reappearing beside him as he continued to scream in pain, she aimed a low kick at the back of his knee to bring him down to her level before grabbing a handful of his greasy long hair.
CRAACK! That was the sound made when the cat burglar unceremoniously rammed his unprotected head through the car window, causing his body to immediately slacken and grow limp as glass shards littered the car floor.
As he groaned inwardly into the car seat, she stared at his bent-over form contemptuously for a moment.
Running a finger down her temple, she winced slightly at the crimson red that now stained her glove thanks to the power tool's close call.
Shrugging it off for now, she started towards the exit until a familiar click caught her ears.
FFRRRAAAAK!
A wave of bullets tore through the air where her torso had been seconds ago, further damaging the exterior of the car as Catwoman huddled against the tire for immediate cover.
Then, just as sudden as it came another familiar click-click noise accompanied the end of the outburst. Then, the stereotypical "Shit!" before being accompanied by footsteps rapidly racing away from her current position.
Stepping out from underneath the now bullet-ridden side of the car, her visor zeroed in on Turner running away from the scene as fast as he could with the now smoking gun on the floor behind him.
Sighing to herself before reaching into her belt, she calmly took aim with her dominant eye before hurling one of her patented bolas towards the fleeing mobster.
Turner soon found himself being introduced to the exit door the hard way as the steel bolas wrapped around his ankles and knocked him off-balance.
"Ow!" That was the only audible noise to escape the man's mouth as his face smashed full frontal against the door's surface, the momentum from the fall causing the rest of his body to slump down to the floor.
Groaning loudly as he slid down to the floor, he made a desperate effort to unravel the weighted projectile, but the sound of high-heeled footsteps deterred his struggles.
Cursing to himself as he felt the presence of Catwoman towering confidently above his fallen state, Turner reluctantly glowered up.
He was instead greeted by her high-heeled boot suddenly pressing down on his neck, the sharpened heel of the shoe pinning him down to the ground despite his futile efforts to pry it off.
"I'm having a bit of a bad night, more so than usual. So, if you don't want me to take all of that out on what's left of your face, I suggest you tell me where your boss is, now," she told him simply, leaning forward on her bent leg as he continued to writhe under the weight of her leg.
In response, the man spat defiantly even as the sharp heel drilled into his windpipe. "Do what you want, Catwoman. I ain't no rat."
"Believe me hon, with me they all end up squealing like one eventually."
"Not me. You got no idea what you're starting here. We've got friends, and once they get wind of what you've done tonight even the Bat won't be able to save your scrawny lit-ack!" Squeezing even harder on his neck before he could finish the sentence, she only rolled her eyes irritably.
"I see that you make a habit of missing the point, so let's try this again. Your employer has something that belongs to me, something that is very near and dear to my heart. Now, I know you know where he is, so let's not make this any more difficult than it needs to be, 'kay?" she repeated again, her patience almost as thin as the oxygen circulating around the man's throat.
Summoning whatever bravado he still possessed, Turner merely laughed. "You're never getting anything out of me, Cat. I'd rather die. You hear me, I ain't telling you shi-"
Sighing to himself, Carmine Falcone wished for two things as he took another sobering swig of his favorite cigar: better security and a new pair of shoes.
He needed men who wouldn't dime on him the second their balls get squeezed by some second-rate dominatrix in a catsuit, and for the latter he simply made a mental note to himself to get some new dress shoes now that his current ones would be stained crimson after kicking the literal crap out of his now former employees.
Breathing in the relaxing influence of nicotine through his nostrils as he slumped back on his chair, the so-called "Last Don" of Gotham City somberly snuffed out the burnt end of the cigar on a rectangular ashtray on his desk in front of the surveillance monitor that offered a bird's eye view on his headquarters.
His office was a banal display of plain furniture and wide-screen TVs, a sharp contrast from the classical Roman architecture that he had been indulged in at his peak years ago.
Once possessing a physically imposing and statuesque figure that commanded respect from cop and crook alike, Falcone much like his criminal empire, was a shell of his former glory. His predominantly snow-white hair slicked back behind a balding spot in his hairline, with hazel eyes once alit with youthful ambition now sunken into surly resignation of his current circumstances.
Stretching out in his black suit as the smoke began to dissipate around him, he continued to observe the security monitor with growing disinterest as his unwelcome guest continued to scratch and claw her way through what was left of his guard detail.
By his calculations, it had taken approximately twenty seconds for Turner to rat him out. Twenty seconds.
And if that wasn't enough, every scene that's unfolded throughout the multiple screens of the security monitor has been the same: wave after wave of his highly trained and heavily armed men wallowing on the floor in pools of their own piss and blood. Men that hehad paid top dollar for, who claimed that they could take on Batman himself, had been taken out by a cat burglar in stilettos.
"There's always Bludhaven again," he mused to himself, briefly pondering his previous residence before making another mental note to contact the ever-enigmatic Mr. Fine again regarding a new base of operations.
His further train of thought was interrupted with the rampant fire of machine gunfire emanating from outside his study, eliciting another sigh from the crime boss as the staccato of bullets gradually subsided in favor of his guards' voices.
"Did you get her?"
"Yeah, I think so. No way she survived that fall."
"Damn straight."
"I call dibs on her catsuit once we find the body."
"Dibs on whatever she's got underneath that."
"Hey guys, who left the ventilation lid open?"
"What venti-ugh!"
The man's confused reply was interrupted by a sudden cracking noise, which was almost immediately drowned out by frantic gunfire and yelling.
Almost casually, Carmine Falcone reached for a bottle of champagne under his desk as the gunfire continued to erupt outside his office. Regarding the fine drink for a moment, he then proceeded to pour himself a glass.
"Come on Catwoman. That the best you go-aaarrrggghhh." His interrupted taunt was then punctuated by the sound of a foreign object smashing over the top of his head.
As expected, the furious gunfire that permeated the air only seconds before began to die down in favor of audible groaning and moaning with the occasional thud of bodies hitting the floor.
Then, silence.
Holding the cup up to his lips, he reached down underneath his desk for his last ace in the hole: a small yet potent handgun taped to the polished wood with the muzzle aimed directly at the double doors. Grasping the handle firmly with one hand, he let himself relax on his chair as if to not arouse suspicion as his guest quickly introduced herself.
BRRRRCCK! The wooden doors nearly exploded out of their hinges as one of his guards threw himself, or more aptly was thrown through the entrance.
Crashing through the doorway unceremoniously, he collapsed to the ground immediately, skidding across the floor like a bowling ball with jagged wooden splinters littering his jacket.
Finally coming to a painful halt a few feet away from Carmine's desk, he somehow found the strength to glare up at his bemused boss.
Glaring up weakly at him, he started to babble some apologetic rambling before Catwoman's boot casually stomped down on the base of his neck and pounded his already bruised face into the mahogany floor.
Wincing slightly from her one-woman crusade on the base, Catwoman nevertheless maintained her confident composure as she fearlessly sauntered up to Carmine Falcone, once the most powerful man in the entire Gotham underworld.
"Selina! Always a pleasure to see you again my dear," he greeted with one cup raised, the tone of his voice suggesting anything but.
"Let's skip the formalities, Carmy! You and I both know pleasure has never been a particularly strong suit of yours," she remarked snidely, propping herself up on the edge of his desk.
He slowly took a sip of the crimson drink. "Fair enough. You always were a 'business before pleasure' kind of girl anyways. But I do have to ask how exactly you found me here?"
"You know what they say. It's not what you know, but whoyou know. And we both know that if I can find you this easily, he can't be too far behind," she responded simply, letting the implication hang in the air between them for a moment before Falcone confidently waved it off.
"Believe me dear, I'm the least of Batman's issues at the moment. As my attorneys can attest, my alibi regarding recent events is rock-solid, even in a court of law should it come to that. As are my connections with the GCPD and the City Council. And besides, I'm sure he'll have enough on his plate dealing with those Mutant degenerates or whatever absurd gimmick passes for being a criminal nowadays. Now, I presume you didn't come all the way here and beat up my incompetent staff just to be the Bat's newest errand whore. I hear he's got a new one these days." Chuckling lightly, he started to take another sip of champagne only for Selina to nonchalantly swipe it out of his hand in one single blur of motion and took a sip herself.
Taking a few more conservative swigs before eyeing the decorative glass for a moment, she hardened her previously sultry gaze at Falcone. "A week ago, six girls from My Alibi, an establishment that you yourself own, disappear seemingly without a trace. No police report is filed, and business continues as usual. Now, I may not be a detective like our mutual pointy-eared friend but the fact that this happened while I was attending to matters elsewhere, can't be a coincidence. Right, Carmy?"
Feigning ignorance with a casual shrug, Falcone's hand began slowly inching closer and closer to the pistol as Catwoman regarded the glass for another moment seemingly none the wiser.
"It's also not a coincidence that you've got a gun taped underneath your desk, right?" she added slyly, quickly disapproving his gamble with a mere flicker of her trained eye downwards.
Caught red-handed, Falcone reluctantly admitted defeat by removing his hand as he looked up at the cat burglar.
"Selina, I don't know what you aim to accomplish here. You of all people, should know that business is business. And in this line of work, well personal and business go together like oil and water." Seeing as how his words were having little effect on Kyle, he quickly added with a knowing grin, "Hell, I would've thought your old Madame Fish Mooney would've taught you that lesson a long ago. Or did you forget exactly why you started to put on that cute little outfit in the first place? We both know it wasn't out of the goodness of your heart, or is that what you've been telling the Bat to stay in his good graces?"
Taking in her steely gaze that refused to betray a past long repressed, he merely scoffed indignantly.
"I'm not proud of the things I've had to do in this world Selina, but I am proud of what they've accomplished for me and those I care for. I'm sure you share the same sentiment, which is why for your sake, I suggest you let this go," he continued, filling another cup of champagne as Selina remained stoic.
"Those girls were under my protection, Falcone," she hissed angrily, much to Falcone's amusement.
"Your protection? Selina, I thought I taught you better than this. Did 'keep those closest to you farthest away' mean nothing?" he pointed out, hiding a hint of remorse beneath another swallow of alcohol.
"I know what I am Falcone." Speaking in an uncharacteristically subdued tone, she looked away from him for only a moment "For the things I've done, the people I've screwed over, we both know I won't be soaring with the angels when this all over with. But they don't deserve this. Now, unless you want me to shove that gun so far down your throat that you shit lead I suggest that you tell me whatever pedo businessman's basement I can find them chained in."
He started to retort but upon a second thought resorted to laughter as memory returned to bridge the gap in his mind. "Oh, I get it now. It's that girl, isn't it? The one you've always been soft with, that's right. Sally, right? No no, I believe her name was Molly."
"Holly," Selina Kyle spoke in a soft whisper. "Her name's Holly."
"Right. Well, Holly and her friends recently helped me close a critical relationship with a new partner in town. Yes, they were certainly the Pièce De Résistance that sealed the whole damn deal," he smiled gleefully, almost taking pride in what he had done before looking at the now seething Selina Kyle. "I'm afraid you'll never see them again, in this life anyways."
"Who did you sell them too?" Selina growled, a palpable fury in her usually sarcastic tone as he nearly emptied his glass before reaching for the champagne bottle again.
"Upon my return to Gotham, I smartly realized that with most of my former associates still locked away in Strange's little playhouse that I needed protection. Now with the clown laughing his last, I anticipated Batman coming after me sooner or later. And much as it hurts the ego to admit, I also realized that I wasn't on top of the food chain anymore. So, I sought out someone who was and invested in a little personal insurance."
"Who, Sionis? Bertinelli?" She demanded, her claws starting to rise up against the table.
"Worse." Hesitating for a moment, he regarded the now refilled glass solemnly before looking up. "Selina, this city is like an ocean. You got the little fish, the big fish, and then you got the sharks. And yeah, I was the big fish in a small pond for a long time, longer than most. But things change, people change, and you either roll with it or get swallowed whole. It's just how the world works now. I knew it was only a matter of time, so I found the biggest, baddest Great White I could and hung my name around his neck. Demands were easy enough: he gets to use the docks I owned and in exchange my operation runs smoothly without any 'technical difficulties.' I don't know why he wanted the girls, but to each his own I suppose."
Selina's glare only intensified despite his ominous words, prompting Falcone to finally throw up his hands in resignation. "I'll tell you where I took them to complete the transfer if that's what you want, but they're probably already dead by now. You'll be too if you're stupid enough to go there, but I know you. Now personally, the guy scares the shit out of me. Really goes all method into his whole persona, but I gotta respect the results. Almost makes you wonder how a guy like him could escape Arkham Asylum with his sanity still intact."
Cat-ears prickling at the very mention of the now condemned asylum, Selina raised a quizzical eyebrow as she leaned in closer. "He used to be a straitjacket at Arkham?"
Returning her gaze with a knowing smirk, Carmine Falcone finally answered her question as the pale moonlight from the skylight illuminated his sneering face. "My dear, what do you know about Warren White?"
Author's Note: I promise I'm not doing this on purpose!
So I'm (finally) back, after a much longer hiatus that I had initially anticipated. I apologize again for these start/stop updates to the story, as it was always my intention way back in April to have updated on a much more regular basis throughout the summer and fall. Unfortunately, life happened and through a series of unfortunate events involving unexpected health issues and school I was not able to get back to the story like I had originally planned. I was only able to get my creative juices back flowing this month once those had been dealt with, so again I apologize for the inconvenience in leaving you guys hanging for months on end.
Now the good news is that this chapter WILL be completed by the end of next week, and the next chapter should start rolling out by next month. Trust me, this chapter does tie in with the larger narrative so definitely stay tuned ;). This year was obviously not the best for me, but I still intend to stand by my promise of finishing this story. I truly do appreciate the support and feedback you guys have given me in the interim since the last update, and I truly hope that this chapter along with the others are at least half as good as you've come to expect from me. I also hope you will enjoy the second villain for Catwoman's chapter, as it was a blast sinking my teeth (pun intended) into the character.
So besides that, I'm going back to finally update the rest of my story leading up to this point to be more consistent with the narrative now. That includes grammatical errors, logical holes, etc. etc. So hopefully, new readers can have a much easier time reading my early work leading up to now. In the meanwhile, if you're interested please feel free to check out a story I published a few months back in the Young Justice canon, titled "Final Exam." I had a lot of fun writing that one-shot both as a fan of the comic and TV show, and there may be plans to continue that story in the future. As always, I welcome any and all feedback: constructive PMs, chapter reviews, etc. Positive or negative, it only motivates me so regardless of if you like or dislike my work I would appreciate your thoughts and suggestions in any form most convenient with you. Again, deepest apologies for the wait and thanks so much for reading! :)
