Gotham City

Coventry

Present Day

11:05 PM

"Predators"

There was no place more rowdy and unruly in Gotham's nightlife scene than My Alibi.

The entrance bore the traditional red-carpet atmosphere of any high-end nightclub, with a narrow corridor snaking around a few corners before finally leading to the front entrance.

Upon entry, one's five senses would immediately be pounded by a multitude of sensations and sounds.

Loud dub-techno music boomed from speaker to speaker in the facility, resonating with the hundreds and hundreds of Gothamites who moved their bodies in unison to the synthesized beats and headbanging lyrics.

Exotic dancers maneuvered and showcased their petite bodies around a metal pole protruding from the center of each platform in breathtaking fashion.

Hoots and hollers were amongst the raucous applause that followed every dance, the dances showing their appreciation by removing articles of clothing from their already scantily-clad bodies and letting their body language do the talking.

The dance floor was absolutely abuzz with the combined mass of drunken and sober humanity converging upon the multi-colored tiled floor, dancing along to the deafening waves of dance music emanating by the seated DJ on a raised platform above the dancing patrons.

Dozens of patrons staggered towards the back rooms in a drunken stupor with either a beer in one hand or a prostitute in the other, while others helped their intoxicated friends to a nearby table while laughing about their drunken antics.

But on one table however….

"So there I was. Staring down the Bat himself with only my wits, my wings, and my thumb ready to press the trigger and submerge Gotham City in a sea of never-ending pain and misery. We locked eyes, and the Bat made his move. I saw it coming of course. That Batarang would've ruined my plan on any other day, but this time I had his number. He missed, but I didn't. I used the last cartridge I had and pinned his arm to the wall. And in that moment, Batman knew it. Commissioner Gordon, he knew it. Hell, even that reporter lady Vicki Vale knew it too. They all knew the truth. That I, Killer Moth, had finally outsmarted the World's Greatest Detective and trapped him in a cocoon of his own defeat and despair."

"Please tell me you did not say that out loud."

"I almost had him, too. If hadn't been for his bird boy ruining the ultimate moment of truth my metamorphosis would've been complete. Screw Joker, I would've been the face that runs this place. Gotham City would be my domain, and I the ephemeral light to which all of my criminal brothers and sisters would flock to. I could see the headlines now: Killer Moth, 'the man who killed Batman.' But, in my….premature celebration let's just say, the Bat's little pet managed to disarm my doomsday machine and free his master, all behind my back mind you. Robin was too much of a coward to face me like a man see, but the Bat, naturally wanting to salvage his reputation after meeting his obvious superior fought me to the bitter end. Alas, the art of hand-to-hand combat was never a particular niche strength of mine so he bested me by the mere fabric of his cape and cowl. But even after all that, I could look into his eyes and see the fear radiating off of him. He knew I almost had him, and so did the rest of Gotham for that matter. No one will ever forget the winged terror that is Killer Moth. Noon-"

"Excuse me sir, would you like a refill?" the impatient waitress finally interjected, brandishing a transparent beverage pitcher.

Stopped short of completing his anecdotal account of how he almost defeated the mythical Batman, Killer Moth merely sighed underneath his golden moth-shaped gas mask as he slumped back to the chair.

Dressed in eccentric and conspicuous colors, he wore a purple flight jacket with a snow white collar and red gloves. A pair of purple-and-green striped pants clothed his lower half, while two sets of artificial wings protruded from his back harness.

Glaring at the indifferent and bored expression on the woman for a single moment, he tried to muster up a contemptuous growl but instead lifted his glass up in defeat.

"Yes please," he grunted, as she casually filled his near empty cup back up to the brim before disappearing in the sea of drunken passerby.

"And that my friend, is how I almost got him," Moth finished, turning towards the man who had been intently listening to his tale.

Clearing his throat loudly, the man who had commented earlier took another swig of his alcoholic beverage before turning towards the disillusioned D-List rogue.

Military grade body armor clothed his torso and lower half, leaving only his forearms bare. He was clearly of South American descent, evidenced by the twin sleeves of tattoos that showcased Latino gang symbols and mantras. A full beard extended from his sidelines all the way to his chin partially concealing his appearance. He was Bird, the former lieutenant who served as Bane's right hand man during his initial crusade on Gotham City.

"Mr. Drory, that was a very... fascinating story to say the least. Entertaining no doubt, but very interesting indeed," Bird finally remarked, his tone teetering on the fine line between skeptical and amused.

"Well it happened, Mr. Vallelungua. You see, the Bat underestimated the 'master of the insect kingdom' and that's just something you don't do. He paid the price for his overconfidence, and so has anyone else who fell to my light. Ask Vale. Ask Gordon. Hell, ask the TYGER guards in Arkham City," Drory boasted confidently, before taking another drink.

"Dios mio you escaped that hell hole? I thought it was impenetrable," Bird exclaimed, raising an eyebrow.

"Impenetrable to a mortal man perhaps. You see unbeknownst to Hugo Strange and his men, one of my more dutiful servants breached the gates of Arkham City and found his master as per his prerogative. His name was Charaxes in fact," Moth smiled, recalling the events that occurred just a few weeks ago.

"You named a moth?" Bird was perplexed at that statement, but Killer Moth kept going.

"You see, your former employer had left a cadre of his Titan containers all around the center. On one of my regular treks across the prison surveying my territory, I happened upon one of them. So, it was only a matter of exact science to give my pet a dosage strong enough to make him a monster among moths. Once he reached his full potential, Charaxes traversed the old sewer systems looking for a weak point to exploit in their supposed grand design. As expected, he found one and transported his master to freedom. Luckily for them Batman's sudden intervention provided an ideal excuse to cover up their collective embarrassment in losing their most dangerous prisoner."

"Incredible Mr. Walker. No wonder word of your great escape did not spread through Arkham City after all that Protocol 10 nonsense," Bird commented, somewhat incredulously.

"Exactly. Naturally I've been laying low ever since. No doubt Gordon and his men are exhausting every possible resource searching for me, but I'll come out of my cocoon when I'm ready to finish what I started. One day soon enough, I'll have my revenge against the caped crusader and his little bird boy too. But enough about me. I'm almost surprised you didn't attempt to rescue Bane from Arkham City, Angel," Moth finished explaining.

Bird merely sighed, staring down despondently at his cup before turning back towards him.

"My comrade is a shell of the former man he used to be. His Venom poisoned his mind, leaving only a crazed madman in the body of the hermano I would've given my life for ten times over. Much as it pains me, I can no longer serve by his side in his current state," Bird revealed bitterly, reminiscing of the deep-rooted camaraderie that the two shared even going back to their crucible back in Santa Prisca.

"Yeah, it is a shame what happened to him. Real standup guy back in the asylum, you know. So uh, you got any plans coming up?"

"Besides drinking my days away and wondering what went wrong with my life, nothing in particular. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking maybe you and I could team up to get rid of the Bat infestation in this city, permanently. Batman already fears me, but you are a whole 'nother thing, my friend. Think about it. With your army and resources, combined with my scientific ambition and know-how, we could start up our own operation right now and stake our claim to the city. With the clown, Cobblepot, and Dent out of the picture no one could stand in our way. Certainly not the Ba-."

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Momentarily jolted out of his rousing pitch, Killer Moth begrudgingly fished in his jacket and produced a disposable flip phone.

Staring at the screen, he deflated somewhat before holding the phone up to his earpiece.

"Hey Kitten, can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of planning my next scheme to rid Gotham City of Batman once and for all. Yes. No honey, I'm serious. Kitten, I promise you I haven't been drinking too much tonight. Yeah, I'll uh, be home in about an hour," he whispered, eyes sheepishly averting the bemused expression of Bird.

"Out again? Alright, I'll bring a few more cartons of milk when I come. Skim, right? Okay. Love you too, Kit," he finished, ending the phone connection.

"Anyways, as I was saying-"

"Hey, aren't you the guy who got his ass kicked by Batgirl?"

The blunt question came from a lean man in an expensive looking suit who pulled up a chair and sat down much to Killer Moth's fuming indignation.

"It appears you have a fan, Mr. Drory," Bird smiled, relishing his indignant expression.

"First of all, I did not get my ass kicked by Batgirl. I tripped, okay? I tripped," Killer Moth reiterated defensively, obviously invoking a painful memory of his most humiliating defeat at the hands of Batgirl at a GCPD press conference just a few years ago.

"Whatever man. Look, mind if I get you fine gentlemen's opinion on something right quick?" the man interjected quickly, running an anxious hand through his slicked back black hair.

"Anything as long as it's not advice on how to be a better criminal," Bird chimed in, much to Killer Moth's annoyance.

"So I've been in this club all night waiting for this guy to show up. His name's Malone. I see everyone that comes in and goes out but no Malone. I'm a nice guy, so I call his cell to see if something came up. Shit happens, right? No answer. Left a message, no reply. Boss is pissed off at me. He thinks I did something to scare this guy away, and now it's my job on the line," he vented angrily.

"Perhaps he thinks you are an informant for the GCPD?" Bird suggested.

He scoffed at Bird's theory. "The only reason I made contact with the guy was because of his insane track record. This Malone guy steals Wayne Enterprises tech as a hobby. Anyways, I met him like a month ago to set up this meeting. No problems then, but now all of a sudden he can't finalize this deal we had. I can't go into specifics beyond that, but let's just say the Falcones have a vested interest in this guy. If Mr. Falcone isn't happy, then my boss isn't happy. If my boss isn't happy then I'm a dead man by the end of the night."

"So what is your current thought process amigo?" Bird prompted, chucking another mouthful of his beverage.

"Well right now I want to track this guy down, tie him down to something painful, inflict every possible form of torture to him that I can look up online, and when he's at his absolute lowest, end him. That's what I want to do, but the boss will probably make me put a bullet in the back of his head next time he shows his mug in town," he revealed gleefully, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"That's a bit...excessive don't you think?" Killer Moth pointed out, eliciting an amused snort from the thug.

"You being serious right now? Didn't you cover City Hall in toilet paper like two years ago for some stupid reason?"

Killer Moth almost came unglued at this indignation. "I'll have you know it was explosive silk casing made from my genetically modified moth cocoons. Mayor Sharp himself can attest to the strength and durability of my synthetic webbing."

"Right." He looked at his watch then sighed as he scanned the area. "Well thanks for keeping my company gents. I really appreciate it."

"Have you come to a decision?" Bird asked.

"Yep. I'm gonna kill the son of a bitch next time he shows his face here. No one shows up the Falcones, especially not some bigshot punk who thinks he can waste our time and get away with it. You two have a good night," he smiled deviously, excusing himself from the table and disappearing in the crowd.

"You know just thinking about my City Hall plan reminds me of yet another time I almost got Batman. I remember it like it was yesterday in fact. So, there I was…"

Bird face planted on the table.


The man brushed his way through the sea of dancing patrons on his way up a transparent staircase to the second level of the establishment. Resorting to shoving some drunken regulars away as he gripped the handrail, he was nearly halfway up when his path was blocked by a female dancer who was descending at the same time.

She looked like she was barely old enough to drink legally, much less perform an exotic routine. Wearing strappy heels that struggled to support her clearly intoxicated state of mind and a skimpy schoolgirl outfit ridden up to her slender waist that barely contained her ample cleavage, she obviously evoked the more adolescent fantasies of her customers. She had long wavy brown hair, the extent of her bangs being shoulder-length.

"Name's Candy," she purred in a slurred drawl, directing her flirty gaze towards him. "Wanna bite?"

He considered it for a moment, eyeing up her curvaceous form hungrily before smirking. "Maybe later, junior. Is Don Tony still up here?"

"Oh yeah. I've been such a bad girl tonight. He just let me out of detention after I made it up to him," she giggled in girlish delirium.

"Hmmm. Well don't get in anymore trouble, little girl. I might have to come punish you next," he smiled.

"You got it, boss," she laughed, her eyes briefly flickering over his masculine figure before she continued to descend clumsily down the stairway.

Casting one glance over his shoulder as her swaying hips waved goodbye, the man quickly ascended up the staircase and came face-to-face with one of his superior's statuesque body guards.

"I need to talk to Don about the meeting," he stated simply.

The man nodded and gestured towards a closed door that led into one of the nightclub's private offices.

The guard knocked twice before opening the door. Seconds after, a pair of scantily clad women sauntered out each carrying a wine bottle while giggling to themselves feverishly.

Sighing heavily, he entered the office which immediately rank of secondhand smoke, sex, and a wide variety of bodily fluids.

The walls were decorated by the paintings of famous Gotham City landmarks, while the floor was stained and littered with feminine undergarments. A giant horizontal window overseeing the dance floor was positioned to the right of the door.

In the center of it all was Don Tony, a portly-looking man with a stocky frame who had just finishing smoking his last cigarette. Relaxing on the sofa around a round table while buckling up his belt buckle, he cast a fleeting glare at the lone man before clicking his lips together disapprovingly.

"He's not here, is he?" Don Tony said without even looking at him.

"You were right, boss. The bastard stood us up," he revealed bitterly.

"No, he stood you up Turner," he corrected firmly. "I warned your dumbass that this Matches guy wouldn't show, and lo and behold. He didn't."

"I can still make this right, boss. I can talk to some people, see where this guy lives and make him bleed for disrespecting the Falcone name. I'll-" Turner tried to plead, but Tony was having none of it.

"You'll do shit, Turner. Unlike you, I've done my homework on this individual. He's known for pulling this shit on people and getting away with it. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt and look what happened? Obviously, he didn't want to do things the easy way so now we're doing things my way. Understand?" he growled angrily.

"Yes boss," was his immediate response.

"I've already put together a team to scour the East End for him. With the information you've already provided, it shouldn't be too long before we nail his sorry ass. I want you with them so you can ID the son of a bitch then I'll take things from there. You should be lucky I haven't fired your ass for being an even bigger screw-up than usual," he stormed incensed, staring daggers into Turner's submissive expression.

"In fact, why don't you say, 'Thank you, Mr. Tony' for not shooting you right now?" he growled, adding further insult to injury.

"Thank you, Mr. Tony," Turner told him through gritted teeth.

"Good. Now get the hell out of my office and tell Winston to bring the next girl in. I need something pleasant to look at to calm my nerves," he sneered angrily, no longer looking at him.

Turner briefly contemplated saying something else, before thinking better of it and simply leaving.

A few seconds later, a softer knock-knock heralded the arrival of his newest visitor.

"Come in," he called out, straightening his slumped posture as the door opened.

A blonde woman sensually entered through the doorway, wearing a tantalizing skintight catsuit that only highlighted her womanly curves. She sported a very feminine and lean figure duly outlined by the skintight leather. The sleek black catsuit only accentuated her toned muscles and shapely legs, with a pair of stiletto boots bolstering her athletic frame to only a few inches below six feet.

Weaving a gloved hand through her shoulder-length golden locks in a flirtatious gesture, she strutted across the office in a manner much akin to a model walking down the runway towards the visibly awestruck crime boss.

"You called?" she smirked in a wanting purr, swaying her hips at a hypnotic pace as Tony's eyes continued to roam all over her voluptuous body.

It took a few seconds for the flustered Tony to gather his words. "Well uh, it's about time they stopped sending girls to do a woman's job, huh?"

"Believe me boss, I'm all woman. Think you can handle all that?" she teased, resting a dainty hand on her hips and striking a seductive pose next to a wine counter.

"Oh yeah. What's your name, honey?" he asked as she poured a glass full of champagne.

"Gail," she answered, turning over her shoulder and flashing him a wink. "But you can call me whatever you want, tiger."

"Don't worry I will." Anxious sweat beads began to form on his forehead as he continued to shamelessly admire her sensual form. No doubt noticing his wandering eyes, Gail had her curved back to him showing off even more of her assets.

"I've got to admit Gail. I've seen many, many fine pieces of ass strut through that door. Of all of them you seem to know what you're doing. You carry yourself like a damn queen," he remarked.

"Maybe this queen is looking for a king to make her feel whole again," she fired back playfully, walking towards the round table.

He couldn't help but puff his chest out and beam back at her bashfully. "Well, I ain't got a crown or nothing but let's just say shit doesn't fly within these walls without my knowing about it. Guess you could say this nightclub's my kingdom."

"So you know all of your royal subjects?" she followed up slyly.

"The ones who make me happy, oh yeah. The other ones I just make disappear," he grinned knowingly.

Placing the glass on the table, she began to sway her hips erotically to the rhythm of the booming background music. Letting her mane of blond hair whip back and forth, she began to run a dainty hand up her thigh, tracing her groin area suggestively before circling the zipper on her catsuit.

"So King Tony, am I on your naughty list so far?" she cooed.

"Give it a few minutes and you'll be on my to-do list for the rest of this week," he laughed haughtily, briefly satiating his sexual appetite with champagne.

Relishing his enamored approval with a seductive grin, she began to tug ever so slightly on the metal zipper containing her cleavage. Slowly and sensually dragging the zipper, she kept eye contact as her breasts became more and more visible.

His smile only widened with every titillating second of her flesh being unveiled for his viewing pleasure.

Licking his lips hungrily as the tight material peeled off her pale skin, Tony's lustful gaze continued to drink in her well-endowed cleavage.

Stopping just a few inches short of unzipping the entire front of her catsuit, her fingers instead reached inside the leather towards her crotch and produced a small photograph.

"Before I reward my noble king, perhaps he's kind enough to grant his queen a small favor?" she smiled, sensually sliding the photograph up her exposed midriff before offering it to him.

Taking the photograph, he studied it for a few seconds before smiling back at her. "Pretty thing, but I've seen better. Can't say it stands out."

"Are you sure? Don't I stand out?" the ever-sultry Gail pressed.

"In more ways than one. Hey, maybe after all of this I'll have some of my boys look into it. But right now, this king has had a long and hard day. He needs his queen to make it all feel better. Wouldn't want you to be just another pretty face, hmmm?" he mused, gesturing at a pistol-shaped bulge in his suit jacket.

"You got it, boss," she winked, beginning to wiggle free of her leathery outfit.

"Atta girl…" Becoming more comfortable in the seat, he licked his lips hungrily as she continued to undress herself.

Closing his eyes in deep anticipation for the erotic roller coaster to follow, the crime boss's guard couldn't be any lower.

All according to plan for Selina Kyle.

"Oh and your majesty." Reaching even further into her suit, she unveiled something much more potent: a specialized bullwhip.

"Between you and me, you flirt worse than Batman."

His eyes suddenly shot up in stark realization, but he was too late.

The coiled end of the whip suddenly ensnared his neck, with her hands expertly gripping her end of the bullwhip and yanking back hard.

Within seconds, his forehead smacked squarely against the table eliciting a sickening thud. Slumping backwards groggily, he could barely make out the woman formerly known as Gail casually remove the blonde wig revealing her naturally brunette hair.

"At least he doesn't sound like an inept moron on purpose," she smirked in her natural voice, covering her cropped hair with a cat-shaped helmet and zipping up the front of her form-fitting suit.

Only now realizing that the master thief Catwoman had been masquerading as one of his 'personal assistants' Tony frantically fumbled for his holstered pistol, barely managing to take the safety off when she lashed out.

Easily knocking the pistol out of his shaking hand with a snap crescent kick, she quickly pivoted her knee in mid-air and snapped her raised leg towards his chest.

Her stiletto heel slammed against his torso with authority, knocking him back against the furniture. Keeping her boot planted firmly on his chest, she only tightened the hold around his neck as his pistol rolled out of sight.

"Stupid...bitch….gonna...kill...you," he grunted in between winces, hands frantically clawing at the metallic whip still constricted around his neck.

"Oh I bet you tell all the ladies that," she sighed, rolling her eyes audibly at his profane-laced struggles. "Tell me something I don't know, Tony. I bet you do know a thing or two about that picture, and unless you want to feel like even less of a man that you already are I suggest you start talking."

"I… ain't telling you shit, bitch," he spat defiantly.

Just as Catwoman was about to interrogate the captive crime boss further, the door suddenly opened revealing his burly bodyguard Winston with gun at the ready.

"Mr. Tony, I heard something and see if everything was o-" His voice quickly faltered as he came upon the unfolding scene.

"Shoot her you idiot!" Tony gasped desperately, rousing his previously shocked bodyguard into action.

Cocking his handgun, his moment of hesitation allowed the cat burglar to rear the bullwhip overhead and crack it in his direction.

Instantly disarming him of the firearm with a mere flick of her wrist, he quickly produced a switchblade from his jacket but she was already on him.

First contorting around his outstretched knife arm, she first drove her knee directly into his abdomen. Nearly doubling over in pain, he instinctively lashed out with the knife.

Easily ducking underneath his armpit, she used his slightly bent front knee as a springboard to level his face with a savage flying high knee. Reeling backwards groggily, she pounced on him yet again this time applying a standing wristlock.

Face distorting into a pained grimace as he was forced on one knee, he looked up only to glimpse Catwoman's stiletto heel descending down on his temple for the coup de grace.

"Uggghhh…." He crumpled face first to the ground as soon as Catwoman's boot collided with the base of his skull in a powerful axe kick.

Still gripping his now limp wrist, she simply positioned both legs in between his restrained forearm then simply twisted until she heard the all too familiar scintillating crack.

Howling in pain at his possibly dislocated shoulder, the knife clanged to the floor harmlessly as he rolled over on his stomach.

"Now, where was I?" she said casually, completing ignoring the man writhing on the floor in visible agony.

On the other side of the room, Don Tony made a desperate lunge towards his discarded handgun. Crawling on all fours towards his last beacon of hope, his right hand just barely touched the muzzle when Catwoman's booted heel stomped down on his outstretched limb.

"Aw- son of a bitch!" he cried out in pain, howling in protest as her heel continued to drill into his hand eventually drawing blood.

Mercifully lifting her leg, she picked the whimpering man up by the scruff of his collar and threw him up against the wall. Still clutching his now bleeding hand, he barely registered colliding with the wall but groaned as she leveled her raised leg with his neck.

Wedging his trembling throat in between her stiletto heel and booted sole, Catwoman effortlessly pinned him to the wall with only one raised leg.

"Obviously you didn't get the message when I asked nicely, Mr. Tony. Let me repeat it in terms you can understand. Tell me what you know about that picture or you can learn to pee sitting down like the other girls," she threatened, her usually seductive eyes flashing dangerously.

He laughed at her threat. "You think Winston was my only protection, Cat? I own this club, bitch! I've got the whole staff on payroll, and by my count at least fifteen men are downstairs waiting for my signal. Half of 'em are gonna rip you apart, and the other half is gonna screw your freakin' brains out."

"Right, and while all this is happening I'm just supposed to stand still like a nice little pussycat, right? Sweetie, you're clearly confused so let me explain. The other guy would sprout some self-righteous B.S. about justice or whatever, do a magic trick with his cape, and let you walk out of here. I have no problem taking what I need from you, making sure you never walk again then kicking the ass of anyone stupid enough to get in my way," she told him calmly, her emerald eyes piercing his now nervous expression.

"Y-y-you won't get away with t-this, Cat," he stammered predictably, much to her amusement.

"Freeze, Cat-bitch!"

As if on cue, both Turner and another guard stormed through the door with guns at the ready. Aiming their weapons at her back, this sudden turnaround imbued newfound confidence

"We came as soon as we heard the noise, boss," Turner assured the still pinned down Tony, before addressing the feline fatale directly. "You're coming with us, Catwoman. Alive is preferable, but dead works too."

Sighing dramatically, she craned her head towards the two gunmen while keeping her foot pressed against Tony's neck.

"Boys, I know your mother taught you that threatening a woman with a gun is no way to get her attention. Not that either one of you is even in my league, by the way," she taunted dismissively.

"Last chance, Cat-bitch!" the other one growled, continuing to talk while Selina silently reached into her belt. "Let go of Mr. Tony or we'll gladly-"

Before he could even finish his last sentence, she hurled a spiked projectile into the air, destroying the ceiling light and dousing the entire room in a sudden blackout.

In the confusion, Catwoman kicked the cowering Tony to the side, putting on her specialized goggles to filter through the darkness.

Grabbing a fallen chair, she quickly pinpointed the large window and hurled the piece of furniture at it.

CRACK! The window suddenly exploded into a shower of razor-sharp glass shards, peppering the oblivious clubgoers below with metal rain.

Following suit with the chair, Catwoman nimbly perched atop the ledge to spot a landing down below before leaping gracefully into the air.

Straightening out her body in mid-air, she cracked her trusty bullwhip towards a dangling ceiling light just as gravity took its hold.

As soon as the whip tightened around the hanging fixture, Selina swung downwards towards the dance floor. Surprised yelps and drunken curses emanated from the awestruck public as she continued her impromptu descent, eventually able to secure a clearing straight ahead.

She flawlessly landed on her right shoulder then continued to barrel across the electronic floor tiles before finally scrambling to her feet.

"Well that could've gone better," she muttered to herself, reattaching the whip against her hourglass waistline as the club patrons all crowded around her in collective shock and awe.

"Holy shit!"

"I think I've been drinking too much, Mark. No way that just happened."

"Was that like part of the show or something?"

"Dude, it's Catwoman! I told you this was the place to be."

"There she is! Take her down, now!"

Impatiently shoving his way past the dumbfounded patrons, one of Tony's employees cocked his handgun and fired without hesitation.

Throwing herself to the right to avoid the initial lead volley, she contorted her body mid-step into a cartwheel while uncliping her bullwhip.

Inadvertently throwing the spectators into a panicked state, the man's aim was soon obscured by dozens of patrons fleeing towards the exit in a mad rush. Snarling his frustration at the frightened public, he finally had her within his sights with his finger just about to squeeze the trigger when something curled around his ankle and knocked him off-balance.

Crumpling to the ground with an audible yelp, he fumbled for his pistol only to realize it was out of reach.

Reaching his grounded position in one acrobatic flip, she knocked him out cold with a stiff punt kick to his temple.

She struck a playful flexing pose as a dozen of Don Tony's henchmen flanked her from all sides, all armed and dangerous.

"Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide! I've been waiting a long time for this," one of them grinned eagerly, slipping on a pair of brass knuckles.

"You're gonna die here, Catwoman!" another one leered at her, brandishing his baseball ball.

"Maybe of sheer boredom if you all keep talking," she chided, rolling her eyes at their inflated machismo. "In all seriousness, you boys would last longer with me in bed then trying to take me on. It's embarrassing either way, but wouldn't you prefer the option where you can at least pretend you liked it?"

They all responded by charging at her at once.