Gotham City

Present Day

Otisburg

11:58 P.M.

The smell of death and fresh blood lingered throughout the warehouse like a shadow, its morbid stretch permeating almost every square inch of the facility.

Bullet casings and automatic weapons, surrounded by a crimson pool, littered the floor where more than a dozen men lay, either dead or dying. Their bodies were sprawled out in a twisted heap of eviscerated humanity, with their suits now peppered with smoking bullet holes and flayed bits of flesh smeared across the fabric. Bloody streaks and stray bullet holes decorating the exteriors of industrial shipping containers told the story of an ambush gone horribly wrong, for which the ultimate price was a grisly and unceremonious death.

Only seconds later, the vicinity of the massacre became filled with the sound of unhurried footsteps closing in on the periphery surrounding the now deceased gunmen. The soft clanking of boots against the metal catwalk above also began to echo throughout the warehouse, along with the collective reloading of weapons.

Seemingly spurred back to life, one of the men on the floor suddenly perked up as the sounds of the men began drawing nearer and nearer. A lean and good-looking young man with unkempt black hair, he slowly began to come back to his senses as the full gravity of what had just occurred hit him, both literally and figuratively. Wheezing loudly as life returned to his body if only for a moment's respite, his shocked face quickly morphed into a pained grimace as he numbly felt at his now soaking undercoat.

Writhing in pain as he gingerly clutched the gunshot wound to his stomach, the man nearly doubled over in both shock and disgust as he soon found himself surrounded by his former brethren lying motionless around him. Some still possessed the same facial expressions mere seconds before they died; others barely had a face left that was still visible.

Nevertheless, he tearfully tore himself away from this traumatic imagery, forcing himself to begin crawling forward despite the protests of his lower body. Mainly using his elbows and knees for support, he kept one hand pressed down on his shirt and the other painstakingly dragging his near prone body across the damp floor.

Eyes threatening to glaze over with every passing second as the color continued to drain from his face, he somehow found the resolve to keep going even as the sound of footsteps began to stalk him from behind at a predatory pace.

Crawling parallel to one of his fallen comrades, the corner of his right eye suddenly caught something: a sawed-off shotgun still in the man's now limp grasp.

Hastening his efforts with the utmost of urgency, he bit back the overwhelming waves of pain tearing through his gut and desperately made one final lunge towards the weapon, a gamble that seemingly paid off, or at least so he thought.

The man let out a victorious cry as he felt the patterned gauge of the weapon against his bloodied fingers for only a moment, but that smile was quickly replaced by a frustrated whimper when the cold sole of someone's shoe stomp down lightly on his hand.

Sinking his head in defeat as the shotgun was shimmied away from his one-handed grasp, he could only listen as the man casually kicked the weapon away and out of sight.

As the looming stature of the man towered above him, the man sighed inwardly as he resigned himself to the consequences to what he himself had orchestrated.

"There are rules for a reason, Mr. Sullivan." He spoke with a nasal yet surprisingly restrained cadence, an ironic degree of professional calmness in his voice that hovered above his neck.

"In this city, there have to be. See, there is a natural order to the way things are. You do what you're told, kill who we tell you to kill, and situations like this don't happen. Do what you want, kill who you want, and things become much more complicated than they have to be. Now, I get that you and your, well now deceased associates used to call the shots around here, but things change my friend. Now change can be a good thing. Hell, I know from personal experience that eating a healthy amount of shit every now and then can be a good thing. We're not animals, after all…" His pale lips briefly parted into an unsettling grin as he uttered those last words, unveiling an animalistic visage that certainly affirmed the contrary.

Struggling to find whatever vestiges of strength he still possessed, Sullivan coughed out another mouthful of crimson as the man continued to circle around him, his patronizing words almost as painful as the lead featuring within his stomach.

"But, you people just couldn't stick to the menu. So now you all get to eat shit and I have to find replacements who can dump all of your sorry carcasses in the bottom of Gotham Harbor by the end of the night."

"Kill me….you got nothing…..with Falcone. Same...goes with…. the Dragons," Sullivan spat out in between pained grunts and violent coughing.

"Don Falcone works for me, as did you before tonight. Now unlike you, he enjoys the benefits of being above ground too much. Perspective, Mr. Sullivan, goes a long way in this business of ours. Same goes with the East Dragons. Once this is done, they'll all look the other way, like they've always done."

Glowering up with a palpable fury barely contained within his crimson mask, Sullivan continued to defy his bodily protests and began crawling towards the sneering man's pant-leg even as tears began rolling down his cheek.

"Now, I'm well aware of what the Sullivan family has accomplished here in Gotham, given your Irish heritage of course. And out of respect for that, I would've put a bullet in your skull by now and called it even. But what you did here, luring my men out here just to get to me? That was a coward's move, and there is nothing I despise more in this world than a man who would rather put a knife in my back then bear up, plant his feet in front of mine and do it to my face. Your little 'ambush' here has shown the kind of man you are, and I'm afraid that's someone who does not belong in what I'm building here."

Clinging on to the man's pants for support, Sullivan somehow managed to pull himself up on his already shaky legs that were threatening to give out at any second. Keeping his eyes locked on the man's face every agonizing step of the way, Sullivan let out one last strained wince as he began to assume his full height again.

His head bloodied yet unbowed, his body language defiant even at the bitter end, the gangster Sullivan looked straight at the very face of his death and took one last breath of life, making peace with the life he's lived and the actions that have led up to this moment.

Then, with literally nothing left to lose, he lunged at the man hoping to land at least one good shot.

Before he could even get close, the man wrapped his arms around Sullivan's already weakened torso and clenched down hard around his waist. Locking him in a viscous bear hug that rendered the already dying man immobile, Sullivan immediately lost feeling in his legs as they buckled back down to the floor with only the man's forearms holding him up.

It was then that Sullivan saw up close the face, or rather what remained of Warren White.

Neck down, he wore the body of a normal man. Dressed in a navy blue suit with a leather holster bandolier strapped around his well-built physique, he stood at six feet. Yet despite seeing human enough neck down, his face was anything but.

A traumatic series of encounters with the cynical and cold-hearted Victor Fries at Arkham Asylum left him with his most visible features conspicuously absent: his ears, outer lips, nose, and facial hair. In its place, a ghostly white washed all over his scarred chalky flesh to mimic his marine namesake.

The most striking aspect of his facial disfigurements, the true embodiment of his antisocial tendencies revealed itself in the form of his pointed teeth. Each individual tooth had been sharpened to a jagged edge, filed into miniature killing devices by the hand of the former asylum inmate himself.

"Bite me," Sullivan growled defiantly, every last ounce of venom and vitriol he could conjure up coating those two emphatic words even as he stood mere inches away from his own death.

In response, Warren White merely laughed, a haunting melody in itself. "Poor choice of words, Mr. Sullivan."

Baring his teeth, the Great White Shark suddenly bit down on the man's neck with his sharpened teeth in a feral blur of savagery.

Sullivan's eyes bulged for only a moment as his face twisted in a surprised grimace, blood now gratuitously spewing out of his gaping mouth as Warren's teeth chumped down violently on his exposed flesh, his arms remaining fastened around his convulsing torso to keep him standing.

Finally finding the dying man's jugular with a simple turn of the neck, Warren grinned from bloody corner to corner as he tasted the vein alongside his pale lip before biting down even further.

Loudly gurgling on his own blood, Sullivan's struggles subsided only a moment later. His flailing arms hung loosely by his sides. His kicking feet grew silent as they slid back down to the floor.

"Grrrrrrrr…." Unable to form words as he choked on his own blood, Sullivan's eyes rolled over as Warren White suddenly tore away from his trembling form with what was left of the man's jugular entrenched firmly in between his pointed teeth.

Savoring the man's flesh for only a moment before spitting it out to the side, a bloody smile decorated Warren White's pale visage as Sullivan collapsed to the floor, a fountain of blood bubbling from his now still lips.

"Your services...are no longer required, Mr. Sullivan," the Great White Shark declared calmly, reaching into his jacket and producing a handkerchief to casually wipe away the dead man's blood from his lips.

Stuffing the cloth back in his pocket once he was made presentable again, Warren turned around on his heel as the shadow of approaching footsteps caught his periphery.

Turned to face the man, Warren's eyes briefly hovered above the dead corpses in the vicinity. "I trust that all of Mr. Sullivan's associates have been properly dealt with…."

"Mr. Blake." The former Gotham City zookeeper nodded in affirmation as he stood to attention in front of his employer, his tanned orange suit concealing a Herculean physique that threatened to burst free at the very seams. Towering a few inches above six feet with muscles on top of muscles bulging impressively beneath his professional suit, a mane of once untamed blonde hair forcibly tied into a conservative ponytail. From head to toe, Thomas Blake was the ideal embodiment of the perfect hunter: built like an ox, fast as a cheetah, and more savage than the Bengal tiger.

"We've neutralized every last member of Mickey Sullivan's hit gang, including those still back on Harlow Street. And as you were requested, the bodies will be disposed of by the break of dawn," Thomas Blake reported curtly, gesturing as his colleagues began the process of corpse disposal: the first wave began organizing the bodies in an orderly pile while the next trudged forward with human-sized barrels to deposit them in.

White nodded before scratching at the patches of dried blood on his chin. "Good. Any chance this leaks back to the GCPD?"

"It's doubtful. In the morning, there's be nothing here to suggest anything but a routine territorial dispute gone violent. Bullets were exchanged and blood was shed on both sides. The report writes itself," Blake reassured his boss.

"However…" Taking a deep breath, Blake steeled his glare as Warren White fixed him with an expectant glare. "We may have a problem elsewhere."


Opening the top level doors to the Pier 311 warehouse, an almost incredulous look crossed the disfigured face of Warren White as his eyes rested upon a very bored Selina Kyle who up to that moment had been nonchalantly lounging atop his desk overlooking the murky waters of Gotham Harbor.

Leaning against the polished wood with her legs dangling suggestively over the side, the ever tenacious thief continued to inspect her gloved fingernails casually even as Thomas Blake flanked the crime boss from the side.

The top level of the warehouse was a vast one, with more than enough equipment space to encompass a sizable operation. Wooden chairs and tables, remnants from prior construction endeavors, were scattered alongside the area along with stained glass windows from all directions that illuminated the room through the moonlit hue.

"You need better security," Catwoman finally commented dryly, referring to the either unconscious or barely stirring guards still doubled over on the floor around them. Their collective moans and groans filled the air between them, an act that visibly impressed but at the same time greatly annoyed the Great White Shark.

Instinctively reaching inside of his jacket, Blake started to unveil something metallic but a passive flourish of the hand by his boss quickly dissuaded any further motion. Reluctantly, he removed his hand but quietly began pacing to the left.

"If you're looking for something shiny, Miss Kyle, I suggest you try the museum. I only invest in living treasures," Warren replied earnestly, slowly walking up to the cat burglar.

Turning towards him, Catwoman merely cocked her head to the side as she unsheathed the razor-sharp tips of her glove. "Oh, but that's exactly the reason I'm here, chalkface."

Raising an intrigued eyebrow, he stepped over one of his fallen subordinates. "Really? I must admit to having a full house lately, but I'm sure I can accommodate you somewhere. Mr. Blake always did have a taste for-"

"Holly Robinson," Catwoman interrupted him, pivoting on her hip to face him with an incensed fire in her eyes. "You took her and five other girls a week ago from My Alibi. Now, I know you animal types like them young but they're off the preservation. Permanently."

"Holly…" His voice barely a whisper at first, he then licked his lips in a perverse manner as the memory associated with that name swelled within him. "I know that name. Sweet enough girl, though they all are until I finish with them. Worth every penny, but I have to ask: why do you want my property?"

"Let's just say I made a promise. One that I intend to keep," she responded simply, undeterred by his scarred visage even as he drew closer.

"At the cost of your own life?" he chuckled, finding amusement in her bravado only for a moment before his expression hardened. "Now, you two obviously have a history. Fair enough, but that was then. She belongs to me now. They all do. Those are the rules."

"Then we have a problem." Planting herself on the ground in front of his desk, she started to reach for her patented bullwhip with both eyes darting warily between the two.

"I've been through hell and back trying to find them all week, but I don't mind taking you two there with me. So, you can either tell me where you've got them locked up at or I can make you tell me," she declared boldly.

White once again chuckled to himself at the brazen audacity of the cat burglar, his jagged teeth glistening against each other along with his equally amused right hand man.

"Word of advice, Cat. All because you screw the Bat doesn't make you him. Not even close," Blake taunted, prompting Selina to turn her full attention to him.

"Oh Tommy, is that you?" she smirked, mocking surprise as she sized him up. "I almost didn't recognize you without the fatsuit and overwhelming stench of desperation and doughnuts. Then again, at least you're not stealing my gimmick anymore so there's that. Plus, I see you found a new lease on life as Voldemort's new personal chauffeur."

"I found purpose, Selina," he scoffed, crossing his forearms with a smug expression. "My pride gave me peace of mind, strength of body. Things you obviously know nothing of."

"Riiight." Returning her gaze to the still amused crime lord, she repeated her ultimatum one last time with her claws now unsheathed. "Last chance, White. Tell me where Holly and the others are, or I'll make what Freeze did to you seem like a bad paint job."

Allowing himself one last bemused snicker, he straightened his tie after an affirming glance towards the former zookeeper. "Unfortunately for you Miss Kyle, the novelty of this encounter has officially run thin. But you can rest assured that Miss Robinson will no longer be in my employ after tonight, given that her next occupation will be six feet under. As will you, I'm afraid. Mr. Blake, if you would."

The second Thomas Blake pulled out the handgun from his jacket Catwoman unclipped her bullwhip and exploded into action with a single snapping motion.

Blake was only able to get off two shots that each ricocheted off of the side of the desk before the whip's lashing proximity to his face forced an instinctive flinch.

Immediately closing the distance between them, Selina vaulted over the rectangular surface to build up momentum before drop kicking him square in the chest to send him staggering back.

Centering himself firmly as Selina slid off the edge of the desk, Blake fired once more with slightly improved accuracy only for the bullet to again miss her weaving form.

Not letting him try for another, she launched an impressive roundhouse kick that he promptly ducked before trying for a side thrust kick with the same leg that he also sidestepped.

Now on her blind side, he confidently jammed the gun directly in front of her face to ensure a headshot.

Upon meeting eye contact with the muzzle of his gun, Catwoman instinctively brought her free hand up and in a blinding blur rammed the mechanical slide of his handgun backwards to force an ejection of the live round intended for her temple.

As the cartridge lifted up in the air between them, Selina quickly took advantage by pulling the larger men into a knee to his sternum.

Grunting slightly as Selina struggled to disarm him of the weapon, Blake glared up only to be nailed with a swift elbow to the chin by Selina.

He responded in kind with a malicious backfist to the face, his lightning-quick countermove sending Kyle reeling backwards and to the ground.

Tasting her own blood seeping through a now split lip as her palms and knees briefly touched the floor, she reared back up as he advanced forward.

"Hah!" Her explosive attempt at a crescent kick to his approaching face scissored through empty air, Blake almost toying with her as he jerked out of range.

Lashing out with her gloved claw towards his gleaming face, she let out another frustrated sigh as he ducked underneath her outstretched forearm.

Pivoting on her heel, Selina lifted her back leg into the air and aimed a back-spinning heel kick to his neck, a lightning-quick blur of leathery motion that would've spelled a game changer. Had it connected.

Reacting just a hair quicker than she had anticipated, Blake caught her leg just before it could impact his neck, easily clamping his meaty hand around her ankle out of mid-air.

Now holding her right leg up off the ground with ease, he then grabbed her leg with both arms before turning on his heel with her calf muscle now trapped atop his shoulder.

Hoisting her up in the air with the utmost of ease, he twisted his body downward in one fluid motion taking Catwoman with him in a single overhead throw. Selina's surprised yelp morphed into a pained grunt as she collided facefirst with the concrete, now in a starry daze thanks to the sheer impact of the guttural throw.

Releasing his now used magazine and loading a fresh one in rapid succession, he levelled the muzzle at the base of her skull but the familiar click during the reloading process provided the necessary opening the still cognizant Catwoman needed.

Lashing out with a desperate mule kick just as he pressed the trigger, the bullet reserved for Catwoman's head instead hit the ground next to her cowl as her heel managed to knock his wrist awry in the nick of time.

Flipping over on her side as the continued momentum from the kick managed to tear the gun away from his grasp sending it skidding away, she knocked him back yet again with a double mule kick to his gut.

Scrambling up on all fours, she threw herself forward first to collect her whip in one hand before rolling up on her shoulder with a pair of bolas in the other.

Not even bothering to go for his gun, Thomas instead reached for his coat pocket as Selina sized up her opening and flung the projectile towards him.

The stringed projectiles, aimed ostensible at his neck, never found their target as a metallic blur wielded by the criminal sliced through them in mid-air. That metallic blur was a sizable Bowie knife, brandished expertly by Blake who flashed the now stunned cat burglar with a coy grin.

Gritting her teeth irritably as she unwound the whip to the side, Selina cracked it again in his direction just as he was about to pounce on her.

Ducking the initial crackle, Blake brought his knife hand up to intercept the second crack of the whip just before it could connect with his neck.

Letting the braided leather coil around his forearm before rotating his wrist in a clockwise motion, he grabbed the end of the whip with his other hand and after planting his heels yanked the weapon, and by proxy towards him with ease.

Nearly taken off her feet, Selina's unceremonious stagger forward was halted by a sudden boot to the ribs that nearly folded her slender physique in half.

Clutching her now bruised midsection as an audible gasp escaped her lips, Kyle made a desperate grab at her whip again only to be knocked back by a powerful knee to the jaw.

Tumbling backwards only to barely right herself in mid-air, she angrily wiped away a crimson smear from her lower lip before standing back up. Blake slowly untangled the now whip from his forearm and tossed it aside, cracking his neck confidently as Selina gritted her teeth at this unexpected show of prowess from the revitalized rogue.

An almost unhinged smile adorned his face from corner to corner, reflected in the metallic edge of his blade before he lunged forward in a sudden blur of feral motion.

This time, Selina was the one forced on the defensive as he unleashed a near rapid series of slashes and thrusts that threatened to overwhelm her instinct with each blistering attack. And with each step she took backwards, the blade came ever closer to touching a vital organ.

Sensing the wall closing in on her from behind, she launched her front leg forward to break up the momentum only for him to counter with his own raised shin. Rushing forward now that his guard was slightly raised, she replied with her own series of gloved slashes aimed at his face.

Blocking each one with his forearms in a series of fluid movements, Blake then maneuvered the knife underneath her right arm and finally managed to nick her along the tip.

Instinctively reeling back as the shock of the shallow cut sunk in, she retaliated with a snap roundhouse to the neck just as he pressed forward.

Deflecting the move with his knife arm, he then proceeded to drop the weapon, catch it with his other hand in mid-air, and then slash upwards, all in the span of the same second.

A pained shriek escaped her lips as she clutched at her now lacerated left thigh, her cut flesh now visible through the ripped leather. Still fighting back the throbbing sensation pulsating throughout her body, Selina reached for her belt only to be suddenly taken off her feet by Blake's hulking form.

Slamming into her shoulder first, the two collided hard against the wall with Kyle's back taking the brunt of the hard surface. As she started to slump forward, he pinned her back up with his free hand now wrapped around her neck. Smiling triumphantly, he thrusted forward with the now red-tinted edge of the blade only to be stopped mid-strike by a desperate knee to the groin.

"Ugh," he grunted as her knee connected soundly between his legs, causing the knife to instead splinter the wooden surface centimeters from her ear.

Shrugging off the surprise blow while Selina regained what bearings she still had left, he began to pry the blade free only for her gloved fist to catch him right beneath the eye just as he was about to stab again.

The sight of his own blood trickling down his cheekbone was thankfully enough for her to wrestle free of his arm and duck down beneath his armpit. Reappearing in his periphery, she hooked her ankle around his back leg to further offset his balance.

Tripping headfirst into the wall, he grunted slightly as he fell down to a knee. Grabbing at the hilt of the blade for support, he started to push himself back up only to be reintroduced to the wall yet again courtesy of Catwoman's running knee smashing into the base of his neck.

His forehead impacted the wall with enough force to give a normal man a concussion, causing Blake's arms to fall by the wayside for a moment.

Peeling himself off of the wall only seconds later, he started to rise back up only to be knocked down by an emphatic spinning heel kick in a seemingly unconscious heap.

Finally given a moment's respite, Selina limped backward to assess her wounds while wearing an agonized grimace all over her battered face. Fortunately, the slash wound on her leg was not deep enough to severely hinder her mobility, and after eyeing Blake's now facedown body continued to stem the blood from seeping down her inner thigh with her palm.

Keeping the hand pressed down on her lacerated thigh, she started towards the surprisingly neutral Warren White, who had been observing the encounter meters away.

"Selina..." Almost freezing in place, an incredulous Selina Kyle slowly turned her head as her adversary groggily lifted his head with a haunting smile painted across his now bloody mouth.

"Was that your best shot?" he taunted, beginning to spring back up on his hands and knees much to the cat burglar's surprise.

Reluctantly shrugging off her disbelief as he began to rise up to a knee, she dashed forward with her front leg hurtling towards his drooping face.

Just before her heel could connect, he grabbed her ankle out of mid-air and after shooting back up trapped her leg with his other arm.

Then with a mere twist of his hip Blake lifted her off the ground before throwing her hard against the wall. Colliding against the surface with a loud grunt, she fought off the searing wave stabbing in her lowest back as he reared back with one hand and lunged forward.

"Hah!" The haymaker originally intended to smash into her face instead splintered the wooden surface where her nose was a second earlier, Selina's ducking form springing back up with a quick uppercut to the gut.

Not even registering the blow, he easily caught her next blow before it could connect against his face, trapping it underneath his armpit.

His next move was a brutal headbutt to Catwoman's already exposed face, both skulls colliding in a sickening thud that left the thief now seeing in double vision.

Keeping her anchored to him, he cupped her almost playfully by the neck before turning on his heel and mercilessly smashing Kyle facefirst into the wall.

Collapsing into a kneeling position at Blake's feet, she spat out a mouthful of crimson onto the floor with almost every inch of her face now throbbing. Ignoring his amused chuckles from above, she defiantly glowered up with the intent to lash out only to be struck across the face yet again by a punishing right hand.

Faceplanting on the floor with the coppery taste of blood lining up her gums, Catwoman's plight was only exacerbated as Thomas sadistically pressed down on her lacerated thigh with his boot to keep her pinned down to the ground.

"Here's the difference between you and me, Selina…" Relishing in her anguish for only a moment before lifting up his heel, he knelt down next to her and promptly grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.

"You fight with weapons," he sneered into her ear, his voice a biting whisper that cut like a knife as he continued to hold her up like a misbehaving housecat. "I am one."

With that, Blake then effortlessly hoisted her back up to her feet before launching her across the room in a one-handed throw. Sailing through the air, her fall was broken by the rugged surface of White's desk which nearly folded her battered body in two upon initial impact.

Skidding over the rectangular furniture with her shoulder taking the brunt of the damage, Selina's near motionless body dropped down on the floor with a loud wince. What remained of her previous swagger was now gone, replaced only by a single instinctual response driving her remaining conscious actions: survival.

Slowly walking towards her at an unhurried pace, Blake began loosening up his tie. "I travelled to the most dangerous place on Earth. Few people would go there of their own free will, even fewer would live to tell the story."

Calmly taking off his blazer and neatly folding it, he draped the jacket over the desk before beginning to unbutton his shirt as well.

Massaging his slightly bruised knuckles for a moment, he then reached the bottom of his shirt and began easing out of it. "I lived in that place for over two years, amongst creatures born and bred to hunt and kill anything not of their pack. I was the outsider, and for that I was nearly eaten on principle alone. But I survived. Hell, by the second month they made me their damn king."

Finally finding the strength to prop herself up on her elbows and knees as he drew closer, Selina only rolled her eyes at his self-absorbed monologuing as another violent cough rippled through her midsection.

"Thomas Blake, the man you knew, walked into that place," he told her, before easing out of his shirt with a dramatic flourish and baring his chest. "But someone else, something else came out of there."

Rising to a knee, Selina glowered up only to see a now bare-chested Blake confidently leering down at her in all of his statuesque glory.

His chest glistened with a noticeable sheen of sweat from their battle, every single bulging vein and muscle defined in Herculean proportion. Three identical slash marks, each one etched into his flesh like crimson reminders of his past crucible, were proudly displayed just above his heart.

"I destroyed my old self to become something new, something better. I was reborn, piece by piece," he finished with a haughty grin, eagerly flexing his muscles as she groggily began to clamber up to her feet.

Still favoring her hurt leg, Selina's eyes flickered between the still neutral White and the smug Blake for a moment before finally rising back up.

"Do you ever shut the hell up?" she growled defiantly, lunging right back at him with her claws bared.

Still sporting his assured grin even as she slashed at his face and throat, he easily deflected each blow whilst remaining his composed defensive stance.

On the other hand, Selina's strikes became more and more unfocused and sloppy as her claws netted only the air around him with every passing second.

Just as she reared back her fist for the umpteenth time, he stepped in and nearly flattened her nose with a smashing forearm strike that sent her reeling.

Spitting out to the side, she tried again with a wild left hook that was promptly parried with a palm strike to the chin that rattled her already sore lower jaw.

"Tired of embarrassing yourself, Selina?" he taunted, clearly enjoying the completely one-sided nature of this encounter.

Kyle's response was a roundhouse kick to his sneering face, one that came within centimeters of connecting until he instinctively blocked it in mid-air.

Grabbing on to her leg without so much as a flinch, he merely clicked his lips disapprovingly before kicking her other leg from beneath her.

Falling flat on her stomach in a flailing blur as soon as the low kick connected, Selina once again tasted the floor but somehow inexplicably refused to stay down.

She lifted her head up only for the top of his shoed foot to smash against his face in a brutal punting motion and knock her back down.

Rolling over on her sides, her usually sharp mind swirled in grogginess with only pure adrenaline fueling her actions at this point.

Spotting her discarded bullwhip only a few yards out of her reach, she gathered herself on all fours and began scrambling towards it only for the tip of his boot to bury itself hard within her exposed midsection.

Wheezing loudly as she crumpled back down to the ground, she clutched at her ribcage only for him to rear back his leg and stomp again on her stomach.

As he lifted his foot up yet again, she somehow had the presence of mind enough to reach into her belt and covertly slip something up the thin fabric of his other pantleg before the pain once again took over.

Her body went completely prone following the third stomp to her torso, a satisfied grin painted all over Blake's face as he felt her broken flesh underneath his foot.

"Take it from me. There's nothing more sad and pathetic than an indoors cat who thinks she can fit in with the rest of the pack," he sneered, fixing the downtrodden thief with an almost patronizing look as she struggled to get up yet again.

Offering no resistance as she groggily clung on to his pantleg for support, he merely flexed his chest muscles as she slowly began clambering back up if only to spite him.

Blood now openly seeping from her mouth as she raised herself back up, the now disoriented Selina Kyle continued to seethe at his unimpressed expression even with her legs threatening to buckle with each passing second.

Taking a step back to right herself, she threw one last punch that he easily caught in mid-air.

"Even worse, is someone who doesn't know how to stay down!" His last word was punctuated by him mercilessly driving his knee into her already weakened sternum, her eyes widening in shock before being overtaken by yet another coughing fit.

He finished her off with yet another right cross that sent her sprawling back down in a limp heap.

Casting a curious glance at the nearby desk as she remained motionless at his feet, an idea suddenly crossed the bodyguard's face as he bent down.

Grabbing her by the cowl and waist with both hands, he lifted her up to a standing position before dragging her near unconscious form even closer to the wooden furniture.

Barely cognizant of what was even happening, Selina could only drag her heels along the floor before she suddenly felt her feet leave the ground along with the rest of her body.

Eyes initially widening in confusion, her surprise quickly gave way to a whole new wave of pain as Blake lifted her up overhead before emphatically slamming her through the table in a raw display of uncontested strength.

The wooden table literally cracked in two as Selina's body fell through the jagged crevice, an explosion of wooden chips flying up in the air in her wake.

Casually wiping his brow as he stood over the now twitching Catwoman writhing in what was left of the table, he patiently waited for her to get back up.

Seconds passed by, and Selina only remained motionless on the ground with her usual tenacious spirit seemingly snuffed out, for good this time.

Smirking out of one corner of his mouth after a moment longer relishing his apparent victory over the infamous cat burglar, he turned back towards Warren White.

A million thoughts ran through Selina's mind as she started to stir again, with the most prevalent voice being a single word: Holly. An agonizing outburst accompanying every movement she made however small. Every breath she took was a fight, her bruised ribcage acting like broken glass in her sides every time she attempted to move.

"I'll have the table replaced of course….."

"Hope I didn't take too long. She and I have somewhat of a history."

Groaning inwardly as she relied on her forearms to crawl out of the wreckage, she started to crane her neck back at the two conversing criminals before the corner of her eye suddenly caught something: the glass window.

"Yes well, personal matters are always the most…. satisfying. No need to apologize, Mr. Blake. It's always a pleasure to watch you work."

"Should we keep her alive, then? At least until we can find out what she knows?"

"Whatever she thinks she knows about our operation, it's not worth the risk. The Bat knows her scent."

Driven solely by instinct as she reached into her belt, her fingers closed around something circular just as a metallic sound from a few feet away caught her attention.

"One shot clean between the eyes, and we let the boys have what's left?" Blake suggested as cocking the weapon with a fresh round now loaded into the chamber.

Warren's mouth curled into a downright satanic grin as he smiled at the seemingly unconscious woman. "They won't be the only ones."

Cocking the pistol with one hand, he began stalking back to Catwoman with a devilish glint in his eyes at the prospect of finally putting the cat burglar to sleep once and for all.

Sensing his booming footsteps toll closer and closer, Selina quickly put her plan into action with nothing more to lose.

Finger curling around the trigger as he stopped at the broken table, he aimed the gun at Selina's still drooping head.

"Goodbye Selina," he spoke simply, pulling back the hammer.

Twisting her body around just as he pulled the trigger, she suddenly threw down a spherical flashbang grenade between them.

A blinding white light suddenly exploded from the gadget, causing the bullet to miss her by centimeters.

Instinctively shielding his eyes from being dilated, his hubris evaporated as Selina somehow found the strength to pick herself up from the floor and stagger towards the window. Shaking off any white spots in his vision, he instead wore a determined scowl as he spotted her fleeing form making for the window.

He fired once again, but thanks to the effects of the flashbang his aim was not as true as it usually was.

Missing with the next shot, he was now unloading with reckless abandon as she braced herself for impact with bullets whining all around her.

CRAAAACK! Crashing through the window with her entire body acting as the driving hammer that broke through the stained glass, Selina let gravity do the rest and plummeted down below.

Still firing furiously, Blake was almost beside himself as he continued firing into the darkness.

Only stopping when the magazine clip finally gave out, he reached into his back pocket for a spare only to see Catwoman's body plunging into the Gotham Harbor with a faint splash.

Glaring at the jagged edges of the window for a moment, he started to take a step forward before White's calming hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Don't waste the energy," Warren told him simply, remaining composed even at this new development. "I'll have Razor head up a crew in the next hour and find her body."

Noticing his bodyguard's slightly unconvinced look, White merely shrugged. "If she is still alive, she'll be swimming with broken ribs and a weak leg. Even she's not that stupid to know when to die."

"I savored the victory before it was truly mine," Blake lamented angrily, reluctantly conceding his superior's point before pocketing the weapon. "What of the girl?"

White only smiled knowingly, turning away to attend to that very matter with his right-hand man soon following suit.


Not too far off from the devious duo's location, a lone arm emerged from the polluted waters of the harbor and blindly grabbed at the rusted ladder leading into one of the ground-level loading docks.

Grasping onto the rungs, the arm then lifted a barely conscious Selina Kyle out of the water.

Still clutching her midsection, she continued leaning on the arm for support as she guided herself closer to the ladder. Wrapping a forearm around the top rung before ascending upwards, she rested her shoulder first on the wooden planks before finally pulling herself up over the edge.

Collapsing before she could find her footing, Selina's now soaked catsuit deflated like a paper bag as she took in bountifuls of air after remaining submerged for so long to avoid arousing any suspicion.

Her frantic breathing was predictably replaced by yet another coughing fit, a bloody reminder of what had just occurred at the warehouse.

Fighting off that familiar sensation creeping up the back of her mind for only a moment, she used up the last of her strength to peel back her right sleeve and unveil a seemingly dead watch.

Pressing the button until the circular screen lit up in a greenish hue, she then rolled the sleeve back up and became still with only the pale moonlight comforting her darkening world.

"I'm sorry Holly," she spoke softly to herself, before the darkness finally consumed her.