Under the Mistletoe

It wasn't often that Bruce was nervous. After everything he had done and been through, getting sweaty palms while approaching a beautiful woman was something he wasn't expecting. They felt damp at the moment as he approached Selina.

By now, she had stopped a couple steps from the bottom of the stairs, using the added height to search the room. Her green eyes were eventually drawn to him as he came to stand in front of her. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting to see you here," he remarked.

Selina didn't look the least bit happy to see him, her face blank. "It was a last minute invitation," she responded distractedly, her eyes flicking back up to continue surveying the room.

"Considering what I know about you, I would have thought you would have torn it up."

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Yet, here you are."

"Here I am."

Well, this wasn't going anywhere. Bruce actually turned around and searched the crowd, trying to see just what or who the blonde woman was looking for. It clearly wasn't him. She had made her distaste for Max Shreck abundantly clear, so why was she here? It was like she was a woman on a mission…

Well then, he would just have to throw a wrench into her plans until he figured out what she was up to.

"Well, if you're up for some company, I wouldn't mind providing it," he ventured.

Selina had her head turned at that moment, clearly paying him little attention. "I'm afraid I'm not up for much company at the moment, Bruce," she murmured.

"Strange that you would come to a party and not want some."

"I'm a strange kind of gal, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I have. Like father, like daughter, I suppose."

Selina frowned before returning her eyes to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

It seemed his gambit to get her attention had worked. Now he just needed to explain himself. "Your old man wasn't a strange one as well. He didn't care much for me, I'm afraid."

"You…met my father?" she asked pointedly, stressing the "you."

"Before his untimely passing. One doesn't forget Rex Calabrese once you've met him."

Now he had her full attention. "What makes you think he's my father?"

"I talked with him in prison. He mentioned a daughter and I couldn't help but look into it," the dark-haired man shrugged. "Imagine my surprise when I found you at the end of the trail."

She stared at him. "What do you want, Bruce?" she eventually asked.

"How about a dance?"

Selina darted her eyes up, where a number of couples had begun slow dancing to the music. "I suppose I can suffer one dance," she responded.

Bruce held a hand up to her, which she accepted. He waited for her to step down the remaining steps before he led her towards the other couples. Turning to face one another, he placed one hand on the small of her back even as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. They still held each other's hands. They began to sway back and forth then.

"Suffering too much?" he asked her after a few moments.

"Unbelievably," she quipped back. "How long have you known?"

"A couple weeks, give or take a few."

"And you're only just now bringing it up?"

Bruce shrugged. "You have been straightforward with me so far. I didn't see any reason to challenge it."

"Until now."

"I had to get your attention somehow, didn't I?"

Selina rolled her eyes. "You were that desperate for my attention?"

"I'm pretty certain half of the room is desperate for your attention."

A small smile appeared on her face. "Only half?"

"The other half is busy glaring daggers into your back for showing them up."

"Good answer," she murmured.

It told her everything that she was not comfortable in this kind of setting. A bar, a diner, some place with none of the extravagance, and Sawyer would feel at home.

Wealth. Elite. Those were alien to her. Enemy territory was another way to put it. Give her rough around the edges and blunt any day, and the Commissioner felt at home. However, she was not here for the purposes of having fun. This was…following a hunch.

She may have been poking holes in Allen's investigation; that was a normal procedure. Tunnel vision was a liability. Whatever the detective had been picking up on, she had gotten a ping on her own radar. She was not here to enjoy herself, but to try and get a feel for Max Shreck.

The masks, the dress up, was not making that easy. Max-querade, masquerade, should have figured. Fortunately, there was another way to find the man. If eyes could not be trusted, ears could make up for it, and Shreck had a very distinctive way of talking.

The host of the party was wearing a turban which hid his white head of hair. His mask was held up by a stick, one he never lowered, or at least never lowered once she was about to identify him. Sawyer herself was going with the theme, choosing instead to wear a mask that didn't come attached to a stick. She hadn't paid attention to color scheme or anything. When in Rome, after all.

"Hmm, that…style of hair. I don't think…I've…seen that here before. Law abiding police officer, am I right?" It seemed Shreck was speaking to anyone and everyone, and it was her turn. Maybe she should have been alarmed that he was able to figure her out, but it hadn't been that long since Gotham Plaza and the botched tree lighting. Days at the most, and also whenever there was a press conference. She kept her hair short out of preference.

"More undercover tonight, Mr. Shreck," she returned the greeting, facing the billionaire and getting a personal view of the smirk he gave in response to the quip.

"Hard at work…Commissioner?" Shreck jested in return. "Come…relax. How fun. The night is young. If you need any help…one of the servers here…they carry glasses that can help with that."

"My apologies. Force of habit," Sawyer responded, slightly proud that she wasn't wilting here. There was something about those of wealth that came with the sense to not trust them at face value. Yes, there were those who weren't necessarily bad people, but words from her own father had warned her long ago that behind every great fortune was a great crime. Sometimes that was literal. "I don't often have the time for accepting invitations. I felt that this year I would try to start."

"Found the time to? Considering the…chaos in our streets, I…wouldn't blame you…for missing. I'll accept the compliment that…what little time you do have…you chose to be here," Shreck said.

Sawyer resisted the urge to shrug her shoulders. More importantly, it was hard to read this man. He was being the pleasant host, so his best was what she was being greeted with. Normally it took time and even an act like this would wear off and the true person behind the social mask would show themselves. That being said, Shreck had decades of experience being a host and showing his mask—not the literal one he was wearing tonight—so him slipping his act this early, or even during the rest of the night had low odds.

"At least I could choose. There are some that don't have that luxury," Sawyer commented noncommittally.

"Don't fret about the councilmembers," the business mogul advised. "Considering circumstances…it's best they are with loved ones."

Councilmembers? Now the urge to frown was incredibly strong, but the commissioner was able to keep her own council to herself. "The officers. They have to deal with the fallout from everything without a break."

"Oh. Of course. My apologies," Shreck was quick to correct. "Those brave men. And women. They do so much…for so little thanks. Perhaps a…toast…is in order for them."

A very obvious pivot there. Why would he assume she was thinking about councilmen? Other than the three murdered ones…ones that Shreck has spent a lot of money funding their election campaigns. A slip? And whyever bring it up with her?

Before she could say anything else, she noted how Shreck began to lean to a side, masked eyes spotting something that was behind her. "Would you look at that?" the party host murmured, words to be said under one's breath and not intended to be heard by anyone else.

Sawyer took a moment to glance over her shoulder. Just people, all richly dressed, all masked up…except for two that were making their way to what was cordoned off as the dance floor. One she recognized almost immediately, Bruce Wayne. The other…not so sure, but seductress was the first word that came to mind followed by preying. There was a sharpness to her, one not related to her choice of fashion. There was…something else she couldn't put her finger on.

Shreck's attention was on both, though.

"Pardon me. I see the…guest of honor made it," Shreck said, slipping away and into the crowd of party goers.

That was an interesting choice of words, though. Guest of honor? Did a party such as this even have one?

And wouldn't it have been mentioned in the invitation?

It was slow, but it was to be expected. Drilling through three feet of steel and seven locks was going to take some time. Maybe more time than Cluemaster preferred. With every minute, that was that much more time for someone to come up here and do a routine look. He had done his best to try and time those, but it was always off by several minutes, early or late, a minute to thirty minutes, it was too random.

One of the downsides to his tampering of the security feed for this floor was that he was also blinding himself to whatever stirred about. Trying to program everything had taken a lot of time and he had quickly run out if he had wanted to pull this job off tonight.

Programming had been a learning experience, but he was a smart man. Given enough time, he'd get the hang of it. Still, this whole criminal business wasn't supposed to be long term. Just get enough cash to set himself up for life. That was all. Hell, he had even tried to make a bit of a game out of it, plant some clues, and see if anyone would be able to keep up.

Tonight, that would all end. With this, he'd have more than enough. Sure, maybe do it for fun, but bearer bonds dated before 1982 were more than acceptable. A vase, and jewels were nowhere near this valuable.

From where he stood, it looked like the drill had made about twelve inches through, but then again it had looked like twelve inches for ten minutes. It was so loud, and the drill bit was grinding through the steel. Don't get distracted. Not now. Keep your head in the game. You have come this far, two more feet was all you needed.

Eyes covered by his customized goggles glanced down to the iPad he held in hand, a finger pressed against the touchscreen and moving incrementally. This was to make sure that the trolley kept pushing forward, another means to keep on the pressure. As he did this, he frowned as he could have sworn…no, maybe that was his ears tricking him.

Could have sworn he heard something whiz by. That could have been a sound from the drill that was softening gradually and…wait, what?

A masked head whipped up to study his marvel of engineering, trying to make what was wrong. If there was anything wrong… Why was there no grinding? And he could see the grooves in the drill bit now…

Moving closer, Cluemaster scanned his drill up and down, confirming that the drill had powered down. That wasn't possible. It shouldn't be. It was plugged in and everything. Unless…unless the plug had come out. Those things were known to happen.

Turning his gaze, the master criminal followed the power cable to where it was severed, a sharp object shaped like a bat slicing into the floor where the two severed ends were.

Back to the checkpoint, one hand reaching for a gun, Cluemaster rushed to the only way out of the vault and there they were. The three vigilantes from Lucy's stood spaced apart, one carrying what looked like a rifle, another held a replica of the same bat-shaped object that was responsible for stopping the drill and the third stood with arms crossed. All three were watching him, and they must have been smug.

Well, looks like someone was smart enough to solve his clue. Perfect. Now he had to deal with this.

This silent night was about to stop being silent.

Blame it on the music. Blame it on the steady sway of the dance. Blame it on the perfume Selina wore. Blame it on the way she was looking at him bemused. Bruce had to admit he was slipping into contentment as he danced with the woman.

Though her blonde hair was familiar, it wasn't all that long ago he had seen it was merely a headpiece, a wig. Her natural hair was short and black and he faintly wondered what it would have been like to be dancing with the real her. She was a woman of appearance, which he had learned since he had first encountered her.

Selina seemed to be enjoying the moment as well, or so he thought. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, like a cat that was wanting their chin scratched. Slowly, she opened her eyes and her mirth was evident. "Well, well," she murmured.

"What is it?" Bruce couldn't help but ask.

"Mistletoe."

The dark-haired man looked up as well, and above the two of them was indeed a mistletoe. It seemed to be hung there, as if someone had to put it somewhere and had chosen that spot as "good enough." It just so happened that they were underneath it.

Selina lowered her head and gazed at him amusedly. "I suppose you're a man of tradition," she coyly said.

"Who am I to argue with tradition?" he responded. Their heads slowly closed the distance between them. Their eyes languishly closed before their lips lightly touched each other. That seemed to be the extent of the rather small kiss, but then they both leaned in more, pressing their lips against each other more.

This was nice. It was pleasant. In fact, Bruce found himself wanting more. Selina didn't seem to be opposed as they continued to kiss. But eventually they drew apart.

"I can't say I was disappointed," Selina murmured as she leaned her head onto his shoulder, her mouth next to his ear. Her breath was tickling him, causing a shiver to run up his spine. "You know, mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it."

Bruce found himself leaning his mouth to the woman's ear as well. He couldn't help himself as he returned the quip, "But a kiss can be deadlier if you mean it."

He felt Selina stiffen against him. Then she pulled back to look at him, a frown on her face. "Where did you hear that?" she couldn't help but ask.

From Catwoman, admittingly, but the billionaire wasn't dumb enough to say that. That said, it was strange she was responding this way to a casual remark.

And the way she was staring at him. It was like she was trying to place something, but eventually, her eyes began to widen. It was Bruce's turn to frown at the look she was giving him, that was until he realized how green the woman's eyes were, and that look was rather familiar. In fact, he had seen it before, only covered partially…by a mask…

No.

It couldn't be.

It couldn't be that simple.

Selina Kyle, Catwoman, they were one and the same. Connections were being made in his head that solidified this theory. A primary one was the near visceral response each woman had made when confronted with the prospect of Max Shreck. It was entirely possible for multiple people to not like, if not hate the same person, but each version had the same intense hatred.

It also seemed Selina was making a similar connection between him and his own alter ego. He tightened his grip on her, with his hand and hers, and his arm around her waist. She did the same with him. "What's a man like you leaping over rooftops in the dead of night?" she questioned him, clearly fishing for definitive proof.

Bruce wasn't in the mood for further dancing, literally and figuratively. "What's a woman like you doing attending a party by a man you've sworn hatred towards?" he countered, his voice dropping a couple of octaves.

Anger flashed across the disguised cat burglar's face. "A better one is why you haven't brought him down," she growled.

It was all making sense now. As Catwoman, Selina had stolen Shreck's blueprints and had given them to the Calabreses. In fact, she was the head of the family, so she had simply taken them for herself. Why she went to all the effort to construct the power plant…no, he could figure out why. With such dislike as she had for Max Shreck, by building his passion project, she was taunting him with it, giving him a giant middle finger in the form of his stolen dream. Max had once talked about it as his legacy in Gotham…

"If Max was so easy to bring down, you wouldn't hate him as much as you do," Bruce replied.

"Perhaps it would be easier if you weren't trying to tear me down as well," she countered angrily.

"You're referring to our meeting in your high-rise."

"Duh, World's Stupidest Detective."

Bruce leaned his face closer to Selina. "I was coming to you for information. You clearly knew something about Max that I didn't. I was hoping you would point me in the right direction; instead, you stonewalled me."

"Oh, now it's my fault?" she spat back.

"You sure as hell didn't help. Max Shreck has been doing things his way for years, decades even. You don't get to his position by being stupid. I've investigated his home, his office, his company, and never found anything linking him to any misconduct. You had clearly found something on him, and I had hoped to investigate him that way."

He could see the inner turmoil in the woman's eyes. Still, pride wouldn't let her admit she had messed that up. "Maybe if you weren't busy paying attention to those crazed Arkham rejects, you would have had time to figure that out without me."

"Max has hurt people," Bruce said, "but he doesn't have nearly the body count as they do. Who is Max Shreck to the Joker?"

"I didn't come here for your whataboutisms."

"Then why did you come here?"

"To do this." Selina practically ripped her hand out of Bruce's and dropped it to her leg. A moment later, her hand was back up, and something cold and metallic was pressed between their hands. Glancing to it, Bruce's eyes widened comically as he saw the small gun clasped between them.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Bruce growled as he squeezed their hands tighter. No way did he want this crazy woman to start shooting the place up. Miraculously, no one had seen them, or noticed the gun. If they were lucky, the other partygoers would think it was prop brought in poor taste.

"The head of the Calabrese family," Selina answered simply, her tone low and dangerous. "Now don't bother giving me some self-righteous speech. That killing Max Shreck won't solve anything, because it will. He's a cancer to every living thing and he deserves to be six feet under. Even you can't argue that."

Well, that made things simple. She was using her position as a mob boss to explain her need for violence. Yes, Max Shreck wasn't a good person; hell, he practically oozed vileness. That still didn't mean he deserved death. "You're only talking about revenge. That isn't justice. That won't solve anything."

"Oh, bullshit it won't. It'll stop him from hurting anyone else. No one else has to end up like Lola." Selina's eyes were blazing with fury. "You think your courts can stop him? No, they can't. If they could, they would have done so by now. All your way will do is tie him up for a year or two, where he'll twist and weave the truth until it's unrecognizable. And then he'll walk away scot-free. I refuse to let that happen."

And then she shoved him away, allowing her to tear herself free. She began to force her way through the crowd of dancers.

Bruce was right behind her.

He slowly slunk into view. The Cluemaster, self-proclaimed mastermind, held a handgun and came to a stop upon seeing the Batclan.

Batgirl felt a little disappointed, honestly.

Perhaps if he strode out with some sort of confidence, she would have felt better. But no, the guy was on edge and wanting to make certain he wasn't a target himself. It was prudent, to be fair, but he didn't cast him in a good light.

Cluemaster froze the moment he saw them. Then he held his gun up, pointing it right at them. "So, you figured out the clue," he spoke.

"Yeah, we figured it out, Hans," Bluebird retorted. "So which part is this? The one where we drop you out of the window? Or would you prefer we just punch your lights out?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to pick neither," Cluemaster replied. "This time, Hans will get to enjoy his heist."

"This is your chance to turn yourself over quietly," Batgirl said then. "If you don't, you will be forced to stop."

"Stop this!"

The dark-clad girl could see, even from this distance, where Cluemaster was aiming. The barrel was pointed towards her, but off slightly. Clearly he wasn't using the gun's sights to get a better shot. He just pulled the trigger and fired.

By then, Batgirl extended her right arm out and gently shoved Spoiler away, all the while sliding to her left and closer to Bluebird. The bullet passed by harmlessly, striking the wall behind them in an instant.

Bluebird took a step forward, dropping down to one knee as she hoisted up the barrel of her taser rifle. This allowed Batgirl to move behind her, reaching to her belt to pull out a batarang. A flash of light signaled the firing of the taser rifle, the blast of electricity racing towards its target.

In response, Cluemaster darted back into the room he had emerged out of, the blast of electricity striking the corner, leaving it singed black. Moving around her comrade until she was at her side, Batgirl then threw her batarang, aiming right for the entrance that Cluemaster used for cover.

The man poked his head and arm out at that moment, gun raised. However, he saw the batarang closing in on him and he immediately jerked back behind his cover. The batarang sailed through the doorway, vanishing from sight. A moment later, Cluemaster reappeared, ready to take aim.

By then, Spoiler had reached the doorway, having silently moved along the wall the entire time. The moment the gun was in view, she struck, swinging an arm up in the air and bringing it down, delivering a chop to the man's wrist. There was a discharge as the gun fired, but the bullet was sent right into the floor. A startled yelp came from Cluemaster from the unexpected chop.

This put Spoiler right in front of the man though, and she immediately lunged at him. She used the same arm that had chopped her foe's arm, raising it up and bent at the elbow. The lavender-clad vigilante rammed into her foe, forcing the two into the room beyond and out of sight.

Quickly, Batgirl and Bluebird hurried towards the doorway, peering through. They found Spoiler with her back pressed into Cluemaster's torso, both of her hands gripping onto the wrist of the man's gun-wielding hand. She was struggling to disarm him, even as her opponent tried to pull his arm away and retain his weapon.

"I don't have a shot," Bluebird said, even as she held her taser rifle at the ready. Batgirl had another batarang in hand, ready to take advantage of an opportunity to disarm their target. "But I do have one on that," the blue-clad girl suddenly added.

Glancing at her comrade before looking in the direction she was staring, the young vigilante saw some weird set up further behind the struggling Spoiler and Cluemaster. There was a vault door on the opposite side of the room, a janitor's cart setup with some weird machine on it. There was an extension from the machine digging into the vault door. Of course, that was the drill Cluemaster had been using to break into the large vault.

"I wonder what a bolt of lightning would do to that," Bluebird openly wondered.

"Only one way to find out," Batgirl suggested.

A grin appeared on the blue-haired girl's face before she took her shot, firing a blast right for the drill. The electricity struck it, small bolts dancing all over it before the machine could take no more. It exploded, not a big one unfortunately, but one with enough force to knock both Spoiler and Cluemaster off of their feet. The two went tumbling to the floor, rolling together before they parted, ending up lying on their sides.

A moment later, Cluemaster cried out, "No!" He looked helpless as the smoldering ruins of his drill machine. "You have no idea what you've done!"

"Stopping your so-called crime-of-the-century," Bluebird quipped. "Now, let's save all of your posturing and fancy lectures about how you're some great bank robber and you surrender yourself."

"Never!" By then, Cluemaster had climbed back onto his feet. He still had his grip on his gun and was pointing it right at Bluebird. Before Batgirl could respond and disarm him with her batarang, Spoiler was back in action, her hands grabbing onto the man's arm and yanking it upwards to the ceiling. Another gunshot was fired, the bullet hitting the ceiling.

Now, it would be incredibly easy for Batgirl to end this. She had Cluemaster in her sights and a batarang ready to strike him in the temple. However, she paused. It wasn't because she was hesitant or anything; it was because she felt that her teammates needed a win.

See, the two of them had experienced some hardships in the last year or so. Bluebird had the weight of the Riddler knowing her true identity. Spoiler felt as if she were less than the others after she failed to protect her assignment during those bombings by Max Shreck. And here they were, a situation in which she could help them rectify that.

It's what a team leader would do, right?

By then, Spoiler was dancing with Cluemaster, the two resisting each other as one fought to bring his weapon to bear and the other fought to stop him. Because of his size and strength, Cluemaster was steadily beginning to overwhelm Spoiler, having moved his other arm up to grab his own arm and pull it down. Spoiler, was doing everything she could to push it back up and was slowly losing. The two had also turned slightly in this struggle, to where their profiles were towards them.

"I got a shot," Bluebird announced.

Batgirl ignored that. Instead, she gave a sharp whistle, which caused Spoiler—and surprisingly Cluemaster as well—to turn her head towards her. Reaching towards Bluebird, Batgirl grabbed her arm and pulled it up, causing the blue-haired girl to let out a "Hey, what are you doing?" response. Again, she ignored her and instead just pantomimed shoving the fist of her other hand right into Bluebird's side.

Spoiler immediately nodded her understanding. Returning her attention back to her foe, she then moved one foot out before swinging it forward, kicking the man on the side of his knee. Immediately, it buckled, causing him to cry out as he dropped to one knee, momentarily causing him to stop his resisting.

Spoiler then dropped one hand away from her opponent, holding it as a fist next to her. She then drove it right into the man's armpit, striking the nerve present there. Instantly, Cluemaster gagged as a shockwave struck his lungs, making it very difficult to breathe.

The fight in Cluemaster vanished then. With ease, Spoiler took his gun away and backed up, leaving the man to fall forward, but catch himself with his arms as he pressed his hands onto the floor. He was breathing hard, trying to catch a breath that wouldn't be caught.

"Well, I think that's a wrap," Bluebird remarked as she held her taser rifle at her hip, keeping the barrel on their bad guy. "I think this is the part where the Scooby gang unmasks their monster."

"I guess so," Batgirl agreed, having no idea who this Scooby gang was and what they had to do with unmasking monsters. Looking at Spoiler, she just held a hand out, gesturing for her to have the unmasking honor.

"Sure, I'll do everything," Spoiler responded with a roll of her eyes. She shoved her apprehended handgun into the back of her belt, then reached out with both hands towards Cluemaster's head. Grabbing onto his mask she then pulled it off—

"Holy crap!" Bluebird exclaimed.

Batgirl just stared. Holy crap indeed.

Spoiler's eyes practically bugged out of her head.

There, gasping for dear life, was Arthur Brown. All three of them knew without a doubt who he was, that dinner they had with him happening not that long ago. They all knew him by sight.

The three Batclan members looked to each other, their shock, surprise, and astonishment evident on all of their faces. It went unsaid, but the question remained: what were they supposed to do?

"Please," a pained voice spoke.

Their collective attention returned to Arthur Brown. His face was twisted with pain, but he was looking at the three of them. "Let me go," he gasped out. "I…I have a family."

"So do most of the guys in Blackgate," Bluebird retorted. "That didn't stop them from getting the book. Why should that stop you?"

"You don't…gasp…understand."

"Then explain," Batgirl ordered.

"I have…to do this. I didn't…have a choice."

"Again, a lot of the guys in Blackgate. What else do you want to tell us?" Bluebird responded.

"I have a daughter. This…all of this…is for her."

"I'm failing to see that. Don't you have some game show that keeps you rich and happy?"

Brown hung his head. "Canceled. Thanks to the Riddler…no one wanted anything…to do with my show. So they canceled it. I'm…almost out of money. I needed it…for my family…my daughter. I have to provide…somehow."

"Robbing jewelry stores and banks was your answer?" Batgirl said, not the least bit impressed. There had to be a better excuse than that. Surely he had more opportunities that didn't leave him to resort to crime.

"No one would touch me. Not after Riddler. I couldn't get another job. Please…just let me have this. This won't happen again. I promise."

Batgirl once again found herself looking to Spoiler. Bluebird did the same. Whatever they did, it would most impact the blonde girl. She didn't see them though, her sad eyes focused on her father.

And then she looked up at them.

Bruce caught up with Selina fairly quickly. The crowd on the dance floor helped in that regard. As the crime boss fought her way through the throngs of spinning and swaying bodies, Bruce just followed in her wake and reached her just as she reached the edge of the dance floor.

He grabbed her by the elbow, and not too gently pulled her towards a wall. Selina's green eyes were burning with anger from this, but she had no choice but to follow him—her high-heeled shoes didn't offer much in stability after all. "Let go of me—" she began to snarl.

The dark-haired man leveled her with a glare, one that had haunted the nightmares of Gotham's criminal underworld for years now. Selina had never seen it, not this close anyways. It did its job in silencing her. "Look around you," he growled lowly at her. "Put the gun away, or you won't get anywhere close to Max."

Her defiance returned in force. "You just want to make it easier for yourself. I'm not going to miss my opportunity because I'm trying to yank my gun out."

"Don't be stupid. Max has bodyguards, security mingling with the guests. They see that gun, you're going down hard, and your 'opportunity' vanishes right then and there."

Selina stared at him before her face twisted with reluctance. She reached to her right side and hiked up the hem of her skirt, revealing a garter wrapped around her thigh. She placed the gun there and pulled her skirt back down. That explained where she had been keeping it this whole time. Thankfully, her right side was facing the wall, so most of the guests would have missed what she was doing. All they would have seen was Selina messing with her dress in front of him.

"Now think this through," Bruce began. "This is not the place for a shooting, no matter how gratifying you may find it. There are innocent people here—"

"Innocent," Selina snorted, interrupting him. "This is a who's-who of Gotham's wealthiest assholes. These are people that take advantage of people like me, ones that were born with silver spoons up their asses. They don't care about the single mothers struggling to feed their children, the family getting evicted from their slum housing. They're just thinking of newer and inventive ways to take more and more from them, all while living it up to excess."

"Says the head of a crime family," the Wayne billionaire pointed out. "The same one that goes to those neighborhoods, harasses the local mom-and-pop owners for protection money, preying on people's addictions to ensnare them in a vicious cycle of debt. None of the people here are angels, that's true, but don't fall off your high horse patting yourself on the back. It's not socialites I'm encountering in the streets, threatening people with guns and knives."

"That's because they have people to do it for them," Selina snarked back.

Bruce could see where this was going. It was the age-old argument of rich vs poor. There was definitely something to be said of the rich taking advantage of the poor, make no mistake about that. But Selina couldn't point this out without acknowledging the fact she was just as guilty. "So do you. Just how many of your fellow Calabreses are still in the business of racketeering? I highly doubt you've reigned that in since you took over for Rex. What would your friend think—"

"Don't you dare mention Lola!" Selina snarled, her eyes flashing.

He refused to back down. "Because you know she wouldn't approve of what you're doing. How many people have been hurt because you want to spoil some rich guy's plans? A hundred? Two hundred? A thousand? Stop me when I find the number."

"It's so easy for you to say that. You have no idea what it's like to lose someone you care about, if you do care for anyone."

"I watched my parents get gunned down in front of my face," he bluntly responded. "I know that pain and anger all too well."

"Oh, boo-hoo." Selina didn't seem the least bit sympathetic. "That was what, twenty, thirty years ago? You've had that much time and billions of dollars to get over it."

"And you have millions of dollars at your fingertips. Tell me, has that money helped ease your grief for your friend? Considering all of the high-priced clothes and jewelry I've seen you wear, I know you're spending it." Bruce leaned towards the woman. "There's not a day that has gone by where I wouldn't give up everything I have—the money, Wayne Enterprises, the house—everything just so I had one more day with my parents. That hasn't changed since I saw that gun rip their lives from them."

The wig-wearing woman seemed to soften from those words, but she was still rigid with righteous indignation. "Easy for you to say, when you know that can never happen."

"Would you give up your crime family, with all of its money and resources just for your friend back?" Bruce questioned. "Of course you would, even if it's something that can never happen. You're no different from me in that regard."

That seemed to silence her for the moment. No doubt she was trying to think of another way to counter him, but there wasn't much she could come up with that he couldn't handle. She didn't have a monopoly on dead loved ones, righteous anger, and so on. He knew all of those well.

"Now, before you do something stupid, like firing a gun in a crowd of bystanders, none of whom have anything to do with your vendetta, let's go somewhere to talk this out. Ultimately, you and I want the same thing, and that's to bring Max to justice. We can—"

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT

Bruce found himself being cut off, jerking his head towards the doors of this penthouse, Selina doing the same. There were cries of fright, party goers ducking down as they flinched. This gave Bruce a direct look at just who fired the gun.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" the voice of the Scarface dummy announced. "Tonight's entertainment has finally arrived!"

Author's Note: Once more, much of the party scenes are adapted from Batman Returns¸ in particular the mistletoe. A bit of an homage to how Batman and Catwoman figured out each other's alter ego. I know some people were frustrated that Batman hadn't figured out the connection between Selina and Catwoman, but that delay was all for this.