Who: Selina What: Narrative Where: East End Regal → Gotham When: Just after the Bat stands her up for this Warnings/Rating: Nope! TL;DR: Selina steals some art and some jewels. Typical night for a cat burglar.
Selina was a very good kitty cat. Despite the way her fur crawled and her paws yearned for trouble, she didn't hit up even one teensy, tiny jewelry store on the way to the East End Regal to meet the Bat. She didn't even make an effort to hide where she was in the elegant skyscraper, despite the fact that a good chase was music to her kitty cat ears. But no, because there were things to discuss, and even Selina knew when it was time to put aside the theatrics and have a serious chat.
Damian.
Because that's what was foremost on the kitty cat's mind. Freeze was a problem, and the Talons were a problem, and there was the tiny matter of the Lazarus Pit sample. Not to mention Ivy trying to goad Hood into something that the Cat didn't exactly understand, and her own abandoning of the greenhouse. All of that was important, but not as important as the tiny bird that was thisclose to plummeting out of the nest and into the dark side. And Selina being the only thing that was keeping him from it? Even she knew that was bad, bad news.
She didn't want very much these days, the kitty cat. Adrenaline, a heist, to get rid of this conscience she had developed, and to find whatever was missing. Oh, she knew her Bat was never going to be here, that he'd never exist, but she wasn't resigned to the empty feeling that left behind - not yet. She wondered, idly, if this was how Harley felt without her Mister J, but no, thinking about Harley was a slippery, slippery slope, and the kitty cat liked even ground that she could sink her claws into.
She stood on the corner-top balcony of the hotel, elbows on the railing and her goggles atop her head, and she waited.
Waited.
Waited.
Waited.
By the time she realized he wasn't coming, she was in a dangerous mood. Finding the news on the television in the room was cat's play, and she watched the footage on the Arkham breakout with a resigned kind of distance. Ivy.
And no raincheck? Wasn't that just like the Bat. For once, she didn't sit there and think about the things her Bat would have done, had this happened back home. There wasn't any point, really, and maybe it was time for the kitty cat to stop meowing at that particular door. She'd never needed a man - cowl or not - and she wasn't about to start now. Let the Bat worry about Arkham, and let him reach out to his son himself, if he remembered the baby bird existed once the thorns and leaves settled.
She left the room, no indication she'd been there at all, and she avoided Arkham altogether. Gotham PD would be busy, and so would Gotham's savior, and it was the perfect time for the kitty cat to remind herself of what she was.
Three art museums and six disgustingly expensive paintings later, and the kitty cat was feeling more like her old self again. A few jewelry stores netted her a solid million in shiny little rocks and, just for the hell of it, she broke into Wayne Manor and returned everything she'd "borrowed" from the Wayne family jewelry boxes. The kitty cat didn't need Wayne handouts anymore. All she needed was a good fence, and she knew exactly where to find one of those.
As for the escaped convicts, she ran into a thief and few hookers along the way. And the kitty cat? She just pointed them to the quickest route to Metropolis or Star City. Not a bad night, all things considered, and she didn't let herself wonder why it all felt hollow. Time would fix that, Selina knew. Time fixed everything, as long as you weren't dead.