A Dark Knight for Gotham: Part 8

^my two banners :D ^

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^Please Ignore. Can't get rid of it. I'm every bit as irritated as you are^

A light DING rang out as the corporate elevator landed on the ground floor of Wayne Enterprises, the newly refurbished Applied Sciences Department. Its two occupants stepped out, conversation already in bloom.

"Now, for high altitude jumps, you're going to need oxygen and stabilizers." Lucius Fox, the CEO of this company, explained to his associate, Bruce Wayne. Technically, Bruce was the CEO of his family's company, but had passed all the responsibilty to Mr.Fox, and now acted more of a figurehead for the business. Many considered this to be one his wisest moves since his return to Gotham.

"Though I must say, compared to your usual requests, jumping out of an airplane is pretty straight forward." Fox remarked, his wit causing them both to smirk as they traveled down the many rows of prototypes. Mr.Fox unlatched the metal container they had stopped at, reavealing some advanced aerial equiptment. Bruce looked at it, his eyes grazing over every detail.

"And what about getting back into the plane?" he asked, his mind already one step ahead of himself.

"I'd reccomend a good travel agent."

"Without it landing." Bruce replied, his voice solid with determination.

After a few seconds of silence, he turned from the equiptment to check Mr.Fox's reaction.

"Now that's more like it Mr.Wayne." They both smiled, Bruce clearly relieved. Mr.Fox chuckled quietly to himself for a moment, then continued."The CIA had a program back in the 60s used to get their people out of hot-spots, called SkyHook. You could look into that."

"Yeah." Bruce replied curtly, all business now. No doubt by that evening, he would have read and memorized every available file on the subject.

"Okay. Now," Fox ushered him over a short distance to a line of metallic drawers and pulled the second one down open to its fullest extent. Bruce's eyes now were bright with a combination of eagerness and satisfaction as they ingested the contents of the drawer. It contained a black survival suit, broken down into several different parts. Mr. Fox took wasted no time in launching into his walkthrough of the components.

"Hardened Kevlar plates over titanium-dipped triweave fibers, for flexibility. You'll be lighter, faster, more agile."

Bruce picked up one of arm cuffs, and indented a not-so-obvious button. Immediately, two rows of small metal projectiles were shot straight backwards, with incredible force for such a small object, and embedded themselves in a steel filing cabinet. A bit delayed, Bruce followed their path, then turned back to the device, slightly frowning.

"Perhaps you should read the instructions first?" Fox suggested, patient as ever.

"Yeah." Bruce agreed, somewhat embarrassed, and replaced the device in its compartment.

“Now there is a trade off;” Mr. Fox warned. “Separated into different plates makes you more vulnerable to knives and gunfire.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want to make things too easy, now would we, Mr.Fox.” Bruce replied, with an almost arrogant calm about him. It wasn’t a question. But Bruce did have a problem that was troubling him much more so than mere guns.

“How will it hold up against dogs?”

Mr. Fox slid the drawer shut before answering.

“We talking Rottweilers, or Chihuahuas?”

Bruce gave him a look, accompanied by a small smile, clearly indicating which it was.

“Should do fine against cats.”

₪₪₪₪₪

Try as she might, Selina caved on Thursday, the night before the big fundraiser. She had studied the folder’s content thoroughly twice earlier, and had determined the best option: to relieve the Gotham Anthropology Museum of some Spanish rubies. The crimson jewels really were a beauty, and it turned out that the security was just a few rent-a-cops, a few video cameras, and some high intensity lasers-Nothing for a professional like Selina.

She waited impatiently for the sun to set, her body restless from days of being cooped up. Watching it from her many windows, Selina was gone the moment its rays disappeared beneath the horizon, nearly skipping as she sped upstairs to change. As she pulled back the hidden compartment, she nearly purred with joy.

She pulled on the pants first, then the boots, making sure each fit snugly. Continuing to the top, she zipped it up just before its extent. Then came the gloves, testing out the retractable claws in each before she reached for the mask. It could also be classified as a helmet, as it had ample Kevlar padding through, in addition to the police scanner in one ear and an audio amplifier in the other. Finally, she snapped on the goggles, placing them on her concealed forehead for the time being. The goggles were a technological wonder that she had contrived especially for these nightly outings-a hybrid of night vision with a hint of infrared.

Standing in front of a full length mirror, Selina studied her reflection. She was particularly proud that she had managed to hem in thin, flexible bullet-proof pads to protect the most vital areas. For the final touch, she clamped on her undemanding utility belt of many pouches. Tonight though, she loaded one pouch full of the explosive knockout powder, which Selina had nicknamed “Catnip”, as it was much more convenient. For the final touch, she attached her whip, a sturdy Cat-O-Nine Tails, in the space provided on her belt.

Finally… a night out! I don’t think I’ll ever manage as a housecat..

Crouching on the glass observatory window, Selina extracted her claws. They were actually a compound of glass-cutting steel alloy. She easily perforated the glass, cutting out a hole just wide enough for her to fit through. Wedging her fingers in the created space, she edged the piece up and out, carefully placing it beside her. With an almost lazy effort, Selina hooked her whip onto a nearby exhaust port, using its support to lower herself down the whip was taut. To her surprise, she was only ten feet off the ground. She took a quick visual scan of the vacant area.

Where are the guards?

She listened intently, but heard no distant shuffling, or anything of the nature. Satisfied that no one was in the immediate vicinity, Selina removed a slim silver canister. Still hanging, she removed the pin and slid the now-smoking canister across the floor to the other side of the room. As the smoke dissipated, bright red beams were gradually revealed. Selina dropped down in an empty quadrant, taking the whip with her. She then approached the beams, stepping carefully into the first two openings. But it was more difficult after that, and she had to choose her path more carefully.

For the second one, she was forced to bend over backwards, then straighten up into a handstand. Using most of her upper body strength, she then pushed herself up, launching into a double back flip.

One left.

For the last beam, Selina flicked her whip at a wiring pipe above the display. She backed up the half a centimeter she could spare, then, using the leverage from the pipe, slung herself downward, sliding under the beam. The whip was unharmed; Selina having let go at the last moment to prevent it from becoming leather scraps. Selina yanked her whip down from the pipe, splitting the last frayed wires apart. Glancing behind her, she saw both the lasers and the video cameras lose power, their generators groaning feebly at this sudden loss of electricity. She had a good guess the alarm system was knocked out, too.

Selina now approached her prize, with an expression on her face not unlike that of a cat stalking its prey.

She pulled out another canister, almost identical to the first. This time though, she twisted a nozzle on the top. A thick stream of liquid nitrogen was released, encasing the glass display in an icy frost. When it was frozen solid, Selina gently tapped on the left side. The sound of two shatters hit Selina’s sensitive ears simultaneously. One was from the piece of the frozen case that had burst beside her. The other was amplified from somewhere behind her.

She jerked around, but saw nothing, even with her enhanced vision. Eyes still darting about, she gingerly scooped up the rubies, placing them in an empty pouch on her belt. Her hand moved subconsciously to her whip and tensed into a defensive stance. Staying in the shadows, she crept out of the Spanish Hall, and around the corner.

CRASH!

She flattened herself against the cool marble wall, but was still able to pinpoint the source of this disruption. If her senses were correct, and they always were, the ruckus was coming from a slightly ajar door across the way. With silent speed, she slunk past the exhibits blocking her path, and slid inside.

What on earth..?

The room was actually quite large; it appeared to be the museum’s storage room. But there just a few things out of place: 1) among the many deserted artifacts were several hefty stacks of counterfeit bills, 2) A number of suspicious looking men were delivering more packs of laundered cash, and 3) the museum curator was overseeing it all.

That slimy, double-crossing coward! A couple of threats from these Asian mobsters, and he lets them turn his basement into a money laundering facility. The impudence!

She was now balanced carefully on a metal shelving unit, with a clear view of the ongoing activity.

“N-Now, ple-please be careful now. I don’t want to lose anymore items.” The mousy curator stammered to the group, sweeping up the shattered remnants of a marble statuette. One of the passing “delivery boys” shot him a menacing glare, and the curator hastily fumbled for a handkerchief to mop his anxiety-ridden brow.

Selina counted the members in the room, and the total came to six thugs and one cowardly curator. Still watching them, she reached for her bag of “Cat-nip”. The thugs appeared to be finishing up; they congregated for a minute, grumbling to each other for that time. Then, they turned on the curator. Two of the thugs held him steady where he stood. Two more beefy brutes stood right in his face. The last two positioned themselves on either side of him, though a little further back, as if waiting to observe the show.

“We’ll be back next Thursday with another load. Don’t think about getting any ideas,” The largest of the six droned.

Ugh-His voice is SO monotonous; it sounds like he’s reading a script.

“But just in case you do…” the ruffian concluded with a sinewy punch to the stringy man’s jaw. His comrade next to him also took a turn, throwing two more punches at the whimpering curator. Selina’s pity was miniscule, and tensed her muscles; ready to make her move.

But as she raised her arm to toss the powder, there was yet another distracting shatter as an abandoned vase fell to the ground. It wasn’t the fact that a priceless artifact had just splintered into a thousand pieces before her that made Selina freeze; It was the verity that the same ruffian who had tossed the vase up had been yanked backwards into the shadowy darkness of the storeroom.

Was that-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the cocking of guns: the now-skittish thugs pulling out their weapons in response to this timely threat.

“Steiss?” the bulkiest crony hollered to the darkness, failing to conceal the fear that seeped from his every syllable.

Almost as apt as a response, came the startling and piercing sound of metal colliding with shattering glass as three of the light fixtures were blown out. A piece of metal clattered to a halt in close proximity to Selina. She picked it up carefully, examining it. She recognized it immediately.

He’s here.

The goons below had a similar notion; with every creak and clank of shifting shelves, or flash of a shadow, they fired off a lengthy barrage of bullets in all directions. The mob cronies could feel terror, it seemed almost tangible now, clouding their vision, distorting reality. But for Selina, this was just an adrenaline rush.

Tucking the Batarang safely in a pouch, she scanned around. But even with her enhanced vision, nothing jutted out of the ordinary.

Where is he?

During her speedy search, she caught sight of the curator: trying to edge away from the jumpy thugs. Leering at him, Selina began her descent around and down to cut off his exit.

He is not just going to slip away. Not a chan- Shoot!

She quickly removed herself from the bombardment of bullets that had been fired at her. Selina was now out of sight, but the guards were still circling around, read to fire at anything that moved. Most of them were at a safe distance now, but one had stopped moving altogether. He was gaping, petrified, at the ceiling.

“What?” But upon following his friend’s stare, the tall thug also became rigid with alarm.

“What the he-“

He never had a chance to finish his statement; for at that same moment, a figure clad head to toe in midnight black armor dropped down from above, landing in the center of the group of goons. Selina’s eyes widened behind her tinted goggles.

The fight was not delayed; within moments, a thug was down. They were using fists, baseball bats, guns; whatever they could get their hands on. But their attempts to take the man down were futile. The Batman was a flurry of black amongst flesh; he made the trained mob cronies look like children just learning how to play a game for the first time. Selina watched with curious fascination as the thugs dropped cold, left and right. But as Batman rounded on the last goon, she remembered the curator.

The timorous man had inched half-way to the door. Without a second thought, Selina stood up and thrust her 9-tails at one of the support bars on the ceiling. With the grace only a feline could possess, she swung down from the unit, flipped in midair, and landed in a crouching position directly behind the curator. Seeing her leap down, he actually yelped. Selina backed him into a mess of crates, extending her claws with a unnerving smile as she sauntered towards him.

“Puh-please! D-don’t hurt me!” the curator pleaded, his whole body convulsing with fear as his shakily raised his arms.

“I don’t think that will be necessary…do you?” Selina cooed, her voice satiny smooth. Her tone was menacing, yet cordial as well.

“Now,” she said, tracing her claws over his neck. This induced yet more quivering from the curator. “Where did those bad boys come from, hmm? Who are they working for?”

“I-I don’t know-I never knew!”

Selina cocked her head to the side with mock curiosity as she pressed a little harder against his skin.

“No, wait! Please! It was..some-someone called Liu. No..ah-Lau! Lau. Please…” The curator succumbed to her velvety tone. He was just a man, after all.

Who says sugar and spice don’t mix well?

Selina loosened her grip as she took his words into consideration.

Lau…so this all leads back to the mob. This is where they’ve been stashing all the laundered cash. But Lau was just taken into custody two days ago. So this money won’t be here for long…

She turned back to the curator. It took her a moment to realize that he was no longer looking at her.

Still holding him in place with one hand, she turned about. It was clear he was eyeing.

The Batman was standing over the five goons, all out cold, having just put down the last one.

Hm. I thought that last one would take him more than thirty seconds; that guy had a gun.

He dislodged his boot from one of the bodies. Behind him, Selina glimpsed the smashed remains of the weapon, a semi-automatic Remington 1100 shotgun.

Wow…Most impressive.

Then, without warning, he turned towards her. Their eyes met.

Selina felt like she had been stuck by lightning and her eyes were the conductors of electricity. Without even realizing it, she had released the curator, her arm now hanging in between her side and midair.

Slightly dazed, Selina saw another piece of sharp metal fly by as Batman flung it at the curator, missing her face by inches. Turning her head as minimally as possible, she saw that it had embedded itself in the crate, pinning the curator to the spot.

Selina turned back to Batman, who was eyeing her warily. She could almost see him thinking; sizing her up.

“What are you doing here?” he finally rasped.

Selina was mildly surprised that he hadn’t questioned who she was. But then again, perhaps he perused the small obituaries about the crafty cat thief.

“Same as you,” she replied, the tiniest trace of a mischievous smile flickered about her face as she bent once again towards the curator. “I was about to knock this man out senseless.”

She watched the Dark Knight advance as she spoke. Now he was only a foot away. Selina’s breathing was becoming irregular; she was that intoxicated by his presense. Neither of them spoke, but as Selina raised her fist to the curator, he intervened; grabbing her arm. She tried to pull back, but it wouldn’t budge from his grip; her strength was no match for his. So she instead lashed out in Side-Snap kick, a karate move she had modified herself. It was effective to some extent; in this instance, it was just enough to loosen his grip, which was all she needed. She ripped her arm from his iron grasp, eluding a blow to the abdomen simultaneously. She circled around behind him. He lunged again, but this time she was prepared, springing backward into a series of back tucks. She landed in the near-center of the room, and exhilarated grin fixed on her face. But that smile faded as she peered about her surroundings; Batman was nowhere to be seen.

He couldn’t have left...could he?

Selina was still catching her breath was there was metallic clank to her right. She turned in time to see a shadow pass.

Maybe not…

She paced around the room, waiting for him to show himself, her eyes darting about wildly.

Come on…Where are you? What are you up to?

After several more unsuccessful glimpses, she voiced herself as she back into the center of the room once again.

“Where are you?” she inquired quietly.

“Here.”

The whisper was came directly behind her. Selina whirled around so fast, she got a crick in her neck. Ignoring this, she let her eyes take all control.

Gotham’s own Dark Knight was hanging from the ceiling, only a few inches away. In that very instant, Selina was driven forward on an uncontrollable impulse, the first and only thing to cross her mind, as she crushed her lips to his. Gripping the back of his hardened Kevlar helmet, she pulled his head closer as she closed her eyes, to savor the moment. Selina kept it simple, making sure not to go too far just yet. She was pleasantly surprised when she felt him kiss back a bit.

It’s just reflexes, she reminded herself.

But nonetheless, she enjoyed it.

After what seemed both a second and a lifetime, Selina’s lips were finally torn from his as he vaulted himself over her. Her eyelids fluttered open as she slowly turned to face him. He was looking at her in a strange way; like he wasn’t quite sure where to place her.

“Aw, don’t be shy; it’s just the two of us.” Selina said, tilting her head to the side slightly with a small pout, breaking him from his revere. The almost-forgotten curator’s muffled grunts and struggles were suddenly vastly noticeable to both of them. Selina snatched a pinch of power and hurled it at the mousy man, never once taking her eyes off of the Batman. His eyes averted to the target as the fine particles imploded in a thick cloud of deleterious gas. The curator passed out within seconds; so fast, he didn’t even have time to cough.

“Well, now it is.” Inside, Selina was beaming that her Catnip had worked so well. But she contained this well; maintaining a calm composure.

Batman focused once again on the “Cat-Woman” before him, still looking unsure of her.

“You know,” Selina added, breaking the silence as she ambled around him. “The mob wants you gone; they think you’re dangerous.”

She tried to forget the certain parts of that memory that threatened to revive themselves from their dormancy.

“Targeting me won’t get them their money back.” He responded over his shoulder. Batman had crossed over to the limp curator and was currently in the process of binding and gagging him, his back to Selina. She watched him for a moment, silent.

When he was finished, he turned to leave, giving Selina one last, hard look.

“Don’t let me catch you out here again.” He warned, his husky tone fading as he retreated into the shadows.

“Why?” Selina retorted, mostly to herself. Then, louder, “How do you know I’m not trying to help you?”

“I don’t need help.” She heard him call over as he climbed into a vehicle, hidden from sight.

Selina normally could’ve conjured up dozens of sassy ripostes on the spot, but found herself unable to speak at that moment; her body was still tingling with electricity, everywhere he’d touched her.