Bruce Wayne, the Batman. (gothamcrusader) wrote in gothamknights, @ 2008-09-14 02:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | bruce wayne, selina kyle |
log: batman & catwoman
summary. [July 1997] Batman meets the new female burglar on the scene -- Catwoman. Needless to say, there's a rooftop chase and a fight. But alas, no goodnight kiss.Catwoman. The night air greeting her was heavy, thick – the kind of humidity that settled into her lungs with each inhalation. Her breathing was accordingly shallower, coming in labored bursts accompanying each gentle scrape of razor on brick as the woman pulled herself up the side of the Old Gotham apartment.
Building 802, apartment C hadn’t been the challenge Selina had wanted for her evening fix. Elizabeth Whitehead was a complacent woman – apparently as much about her security as her trust fund. The balcony door had proven a simple, if conventional way of entry – a neatly-sliced hole near the lock had allowed her gloved hand to slide through, guiding the bolt out of place as smoothly as if she’d lubricated the thing first. She’d timed it perfectly: a few paces across the room, a keypad flipped and a code punched, and the silent alarm had been deactivated in less than thirty seconds. All in all, the break-in had been a clean one – silent entry, quick exit, no print left behind. Her rewards were neatly tucked into a pouch slipped down the front of her suit, clinging to her dampening skin.
Downside number one to moonlighting in a tight cat costume in July: the sustained peeling efforts required just to give your skin breathing room.
Gloved hands reached the top of the roof, claws digging into the sharp gravel above. With trained grace, the cat-burglar arched her body sideways, swinging her legs in one smooth movement, before maneuvering the lower half of her body gracefully onto the top.
Selina pulled herself into a crouch, eyes sweeping the perimeter sharply, hand moving toward something coiled at her waist. It was easy to miss a detail on the job if you didn’t have a trained eye, but fortunately, the former gymnast was well-accustomed to prowling the dark. A scan revealed nothing immediate in the vicinity – and with one last glance at her shadowed surroundings, the woman rose casually, as though she’d simply bent to retrieve a fallen object. Heeled boots flashed dully in light from a distant streetlamp as the figure stepped once, twice, three times toward the edge of the building, the movements almost irreverent. She paused at the edge.
And suddenly, she jumped.
Her body form as lithe and fluid as it had once been, years ago on a balance beam, Selina Kyle leapt from the rooftop, legs curving until they were above her head. In the rush of the fall, the humidity turned to cool air, but the figure never struggled, never showed signs of panic that she’d just leapt from the outcropping of a ten-story apartment building. She was diving with flippant, almost liquid grace. To any observer, her actions would have doubtless seemed suicidal. However, once she’d reached the third story, the woman’s arm drew back from her body. With the flick of her wrist, the crack of a large bullwhip rang throughout the night, the object itself settling to curl around the outpost of a street lamp.
It worked: legs locked together, the woman swung as an acrobat might, using her body as much as her whip to guide her movement through the air. The whip was released skillfully from the lightpost in time for another crack, this time settling onto the chimney of a flower shop. Here, the woman chose to alight. Shadows rippled as she ran across the rooftop, wrist already drawn back to initiate another flight – a getaway tactic of someone who knew the area well.
Batman. Batman had been following this one -- the cat burglar in leather. He hadn't intervened yet because he was studying her, watching her to figure out her M.O. It had been a couple months since the Joker's rampage on Gotham and more costumed figures than he'd like were popping up. This woman was new on his radar, and while she wasn't using lethal force or physically harming anyone -- yet -- her thefts over the past two weeks were enough to get his attention.
Against the Gotham skyline, Batman stood still as the other gargoyles atop this building. His eyes followed her, watching her flee the scene. He noted her acrobatic prowess, the outline of her body in contrast from the light of the city below them. And if he were completely honest, he was impressed -- to a point. Her criminal activity overshadowed any skills she may possess. It soured her skills for him, before he even got the chance to fully appreciate them.
From his higher ground, he stepped off the ledge. His cape became rigid and he glided through the air, descending. He watched her running on the rooftop and soared above her. The memory cloth in his cape went slack and he dropped to the roof, landing in front of her -- stopping her from continuing along her intended path. Rising from the crouched position he landed in, he stood to his full height before her. "This ends tonight," he informed her. Whether he believed his own words or not, his movements and words demonstrated one thing -- intimidation.
Catwoman. She felt him before she saw him.
Years surviving the streets had taught Selina a thing or two about staying alert. If you were better off keeping to yourself, you kept your head up and your eyes down, but the ultimate death note was failing to listen. If you’d been around long enough to recognize the signs, you could hear them coming. You could hear the carefully controlled, feigned conversation while they tailed you; the quickened pace that indicated they were hunting you. Selina had been hunted by a lot of people in her life: police, muggers, rapists. This pursuer was new – after all, most cops didn’t drop from the sky.
When she heard the crackle overhead – like canvas snapping in the wind – Selina instinctively dug her boots into the concrete to halt her sprint. She could have leapt from the roof, but her opponent had now landed before her – too close to make an immediate getaway. She needed to buy herself some time.
The grip on the bullwhip never loosened, the only indication that the woman before Batman wasn’t completely relaxed. Selina knew how to play the intimidation game. Some people slammed their hands on the table in front of you and bellowed. Others brandished guns, knives, while still others stared you down from a higher perch.
And some, Selina was discovering, played superhero in a black cape and bat-cowl.
The woman’s mauve lipstick was darkened by shadow, making it easier to discern the humorless smile the mouth had now formed. “Criminal weather report didn’t mention a chance of Bat tonight.” Selina cocked her head at a slight angle, enough to display her nonchalance. One gloved finger was raised to her chin in mock contemplation. “You turned in Poison Ivy last week. Make it a habit of swooping down on every woman you see?” The low, throaty tone was laced with irony. The other hand, the one still clutching the hilt of the whip, was now deceptively relaxed against Selina’s hip, giving the impression that the Catwoman had all the time in the world. She wasn’t afraid. She was, however, carefully keeping the irritation she’d felt at the Bat’s appearance out of her tone - generally, she didn’t appreciate anyone standing between her and an evening soak in the tub.
Batman. He bristled at the mention of Poison Ivy. It was a woman he would not look forward to meeting again. It also tipped Batman off that Catwoman kept up to date in current events. His muscles were tense, as if he were coiled tightly and reading to spring. Batman was waiting for her move. "Just the ones asking for it," he said, his mouth in a thin hard line across what little of his face was visible.
Catwoman. Just the ones asking for it. She’d heard that before. When Selina was still prowling the streets as a teenager, she’d once rounded the corner to find a young girl cornered by a suit. She’d seen the girl around before – she was a prostitute, though she typically only worked weekdays. Things at home must have taken a turn for the worse to make her do weekends, and then she got cornered by some business executive bastard who thought money gave him the right to literally throw his weight around. That had been his excuse, too – she’d been asking for it.
She knew this was an entirely separate occasion. She knew this was an entirely different context, an entirely different person. But behind the mask, Selina’s green eyes glinted in dislike at the memory. “Is that how the excuse goes these days?” Pointedly, she spread her gloved hands apart to indicate their emptiness, her smile now like a severe slash of color in her face. “I haven’t got anything to give back. You have no grounds for making a theft claim. Unless you’re planning on materializing evidence from that canvas of yours, most people would call our little altercation harassment.” The hand not holding the hilt now slid to the whip itself, winding it as casually through her palm as if it were a large snake. Her teeth flashed in a bright, predatory smile as she scanned his body language. He looked as though he was about to strike, which meant he was waiting for her to make first move. Residual guilt about getting physical with a woman, maybe. If he laid one batgloved finger on her, she’d give him a few souvenirs to remember her by.
This woman knew how to fight dirty.
Batman. He was anticipating her next move. No residual guilt about it. From his observations, she did not inflict physical harm on those from whom she stole -- but that didn't mean he was naive. She sure could move and use that whip. "You expect me to believe that?" The fact that she had nothing? Batman looked at her incredulously. Just because it was not in her hands does not mean it was on her.
Catwoman. He wasn’t going to get out of her way. He wasn’t going to stand down. If Selina was being honest with herself, she’d known from the get-go that an easy out wasn’t going to be reality.
The laughter was low, soft. Mocking. “A few whispered promises to Gotham’s Finest, and that excuse would be enough to buy my freedom.” The whip slithered lazily to the ground, where it rested. “Maybe you’re different. All misguided chivalry and self-righteousness, like they say in the papers.” She didn’t voice such, but the implication was there: Let’s see how solid you really are. There was no sincerity to her tone. Behind the goggles, Selina’s gaze moved past her would-be assailant to the Gotham skyline. The buildings were as dull in the daylight as they were now – generic tones of grey and brown, sheathed in trails of pollution that hung languidly in the summer air. If she had to give the Bat the slip, she knew a handful of ways to disappear – a network of alleyways and underawnings even the GCPD's best didn’t dare venture into. This was her city as much as it was anyone else's, and if she needed a place to hide, it would oblige her.
“It’s been a long night.” The tone was honeyed, filled with false self-pity and deceptive innocence. “My Crimedoers Anonymous meeting went on longer than I’d expected, and now here I am, being assailed by the local spook.” She took one step toward the edge of the roof, her gaze locked on her opponent’s form. Steps were a threat. It was only a matter of time before he reacted. “Don't know about you, but I’ve had my thrill fix for the evening. So here’s the part where I take my leave, and you let me go peacefully." The hands were spread apart once more, a shrug to indicate she was a reasonable woman. "I'm guessing you're the type who wouldn't appreciate a trip to the emergency room with that mask of yours. Me, I don't like having to clean my claws." It was there in her tone: a challenge behind the bright smile, the statement entertwined with menace.
Batman. Her city? Hardly. This was Batman -- and Bruce Wayne's -- territory. He would defend Gotham -- and his possessiveness over her -- till he could no longer.
Batman's jaw steeled as she spoke, her words only fueling his intent to stop her this evening. He narrowed his eyes, locked on her. He had little patience for her games. He recognized the obvious challenge she presented him and considered it silently. He stepped forward, lessening the gap between them.
"The only place you're going is to a jail cell. I'll make sure to leave you where your whispered promises won't help you," he replied, his tone meeting her challenge and practically asking her to start whatever she had planned so that he may put an end to it.
Catwoman. Like clockwork, he’d accepted her challenge. This was exactly what Selina had wanted for nights – a chase. A fight. Behind the mask, her pupils dilated with adrenaline, limbs momentarily frozen as preemptive energy coursed through her body. Although she’d enjoyed moderate success in her first two weeks as Catwoman, something had been missing. Part of the enjoyment in her thieving was the satisfaction of taking what she pleased, simply because she could. Until now, she’d had no real competition. No one to triumph over. The GCPD had proven pitifully inadequate in tracking her down, and even Batman himself had taken his time in staging a confrontation. The bath could wait. Here, finally, was the rush she’d wanted. Here was her moment.
The free gloved hand was raised delicately to Catwoman’s temple, touched in a sardonic salute to her adversary. The smile was coy, even inviting.
“Most invigorating thing you’ve said all night,” she remarked, voice taunting, hand discreetly tightening on the hilt of her bullwhip. What could she say? Irony was something in which she was particularly well-versed. “So we're on the same page. I was almost certain I’d regret --“
Lightning-fast, in a flash of purple, she’d cracked her whip forward in a tremendous movement, one foot off the ground as she ensnared her pursuer’s legs in coils. Before Batman could react, Selina had both feet on the ground again, elbows locked as she pulled, teeth gritted in effort even as the vigilante went down. The Kevlar did him justice: the man was no skinny college kid.
“- leaving you in my dust.” As if primed by a gunshot, she was off and running for the edge. Boot met empty space, and she brought her knees to her chin, somersaulting artfully in midair before beginning the five-story drop toward the dingy street below.
Batman. Batman hit the rooftop hard with a thud, underestimating her reflexes and her ability . While the suit protected him from all sorts of stuff -- bullets and knives aside -- he still felt the impact through the Kevlar across his back. It took him only a second to recoil from the fall, scrambling to get back on his feet. He ignored the dull pain across his back, the surge of adrenaline coursing through his system. His boots hit the paved surface, following in the direction she ran off in.
Now that she started it, he would not hold back from subduing -- or attacking -- her in order to take her into custody. His mind raced, going over possible scenarios as his feet picked up and he jumped.
Without a thought, he went over the wall. One boot cut through the air, his cape flapping in the drop, as his hand was quick to his utility belt. He grabbed onto the grappling gun, releasing it from his waist. Aiming upward, he shot the compact iron claw from the gun. It hissed as the gas escaped the pressure chamber. The iron claw expanded and spiraled upward, catching on the side of the building. He didn't feel the tug from the tough cord as he continued to fall. He secured it back to his utility belt, his eyes scanning below for Catwoman. Both of his gloved hands wrap around the cord as he plummeted, preparing for swinging or landing.
Catwoman. Landing.
Soon after taking her dive, Selina had swung away again, feet locked together and raised at an angle for navigational influence. She was coming to the series of smaller, grimier apartments en route to the heart of Gotham, though it wasn't the skyscrapers she wanted. When the roof was near enough, Selina gave the loosening whip a small tug before dropping the last few feet. She hit the ground with a grunt, her boots absorbing most of the impact. Once in motion, she didn't stop running - she couldn't cut the momentum. She could feel him above her, likely about to drop himself. There were mere seconds between the Bat and his quarry.
Catwoman couldn't help but acknowledge a reluctant appreciation for her opponent's speed. If it had been anyone else she'd knocked off their feet, Selina would have been in the clear by now. She chanced the barest of glances over her shoulder, then leapt to a lower roof - this time, without the aid of her whip.
Damn, he was fast.
Batman. Batman swung after her, the angle of the hook's grip aiding him in the large arc he swept. He hit the roof running, his muscles pumping to move faster. He had a single focus right now -- catching her. He would chase her all night if he had to. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that -- if he had any say. When he jumped off the one roof, his cape caught wind and he soared over her. He landed in front of her, turning his body quickly to face her and lunged.
Catwoman. There were a few things you could do when a wall of pure, broad-shouldered muscle charged at you, only one of which worked in a split second. Selina was strong and in peak physical condition, but rather than risk a tussle just yet, urgency surged through her leg muscles and she sprung aside, nimble as her costume suggested. The breeze resulting from his lunge brushed past her cheek as she spun around instantly, slightly agape mouth betraying her surprise. It was one thing to read and hear about a supposed urban legend; it was another experience entirely to combat one.
Catwoman backflipped once, twice out of the way, teeth now gritted as the impact of the roof surface slammed through her body. "Football tackling?" The voice had something of a snarl to it. "Really. Don't you capes have more finesse?" Her third backflip took her off the roof, and she swung her whip with a loud crack to curl it around a nearby fire escape.
Batman. Batman caught nothing but air after Catwoman moved, but his head already was turned and his eyes locked on her. His mouth was in a hard line and before he had any chance to reply to her, she was gone again. He was quick to follow, of course. He couldn't just let her get away now -- not after he committed to the chase. While he had gotten used to the other themed villains that were popping up in Gotham City, this one was a challenge. The others were bold and noticeable -- such as the Joker and Poison Ivy -- but Catwoman was different. She was a creature of the night, like himself. In that way, he felt some sort of affinity to her but wouldn't allow himself to think anything past her being a thief. Because if he stopped for a second to think about her other than that, then there would be trouble. He did not want to identify with someone like her. Not when he made the commitment to track her down.
Batman hit the air, his cape taking shape. He glided over to the next building, spying Catwoman's whip on a fire escape. Landing on the roof, his hand went quickly for the bolas in his utility belt. His body tensed, waiting for her to come over the wall so that he can end this.
Catwoman. Immediately upon hitting brick with legs extended, Selina had placed the hilt of her whip between her teeth and sunk her claws into the wall, beginning a quick scrabble toward the rooftop. It wasn't the most glamorous way to scale a wall, but it was practical, and if there was one thing that counted in a getaway, it was being resourceful -- doing what you had to do to make your escape.
Her progress was halted when she heard the swoop, and instinctively paused. Her muscles tensed as she noted the shadow passing over the brick. Behind the mask, green eyes narrowed.
He was waiting to arrest her on the roof.
For a few precarious moments, Selina remained still on the wall. Cats, while excellent at climbing up, preferred not to climb down again, and ironically, that was precisely Selina's dilemma. She glanced below herself and toward the right, eyeing the fire escape. That option was out: he'd hear her whip crack and simply jump onto the stairs himself.
So in a flash of adrenaline, she dislodged herself from the wall, arms outstretched and legs together as she began a seemingly free-falling plummet toward the road below. She knew she had mere seconds to swing away, but Selina timed herself well. It was essential to the job.
Besides, she was intrigued. She could save herself, but was the Batman self-righteous enough to attempt a rescue? If he did, it would buy her more time: she doubted he was accustomed to whip-slinging catburglars, which meant he wouldn't be certain she could bail herself out. Her reflexes would be faster than his.
Her eyes locked onto a target above, arm drawn back to begin an underhanded swing.
Batman. Batman listened; he was waiting for any telltale sign about her next move -- whether it was a shifting of brick or a crack of a whip. He concentrated, separating this from the sound of the traffic. However, the longer he waited, the more he grew impatient. He took a few solid steps toward the ledge, jumping up onto the ledge to peer down at her.
Just in time to watch her fall away from the wall.
Instinctively, Batman leaned forward to drop off the side of the building in order to catch her, unsure if it was an actual slip or a plan in Catwoman's mind. It was better to be safe than sorry -- he didn't want her dead. With his hands outreached, he fell rapidly with intent to catch her, rescue her from the fall, and take her in all in one swoop. His main thought was still on how to capture her for delivery to the Gotham City Police.
Catwoman. A shadow soared over the edge of the roof and began falling with her, toward her. Despite herself, Catwoman couldn't conceal a grin of genuine pleasure that was incongruous with her overall terrifying situation.
The Bat didn't disappoint.
Selina's arm stretched to its full length, the smile turning to a grimace of effort as her whip wrapped around a metal staircase -- another fire escape. The jolt that accompanied her sudden stop was jarring, but she gritted her teeth, locked her ankles together, and swung as a kid might use her momentum to move a swing higher. In this case, Catwoman wasn't aiming to reach the top of a swingset, but to come within reach of the outcropping --
There.
With a grunt at the unpleasant impact, Selina thudded her feet against the brick wall, then seized the fire escape railing with one hand, her muscles steeling themselves before she could fall away again. There were no second swings with this opponent -- an instant's delay was one moment closer to capture.
Catwoman hoisted herself over the exit and onto the stairs, casting a curious glance below her at the speeding tail lights even as she bolted up the escape. A few cars honked, perhaps in acknowledgement of the Batman's presence.
That was an abrupt fall. Had he made it? Selina used her claws to hoist herself up from the fire escape to the rooftop, green eyes scanning sharply from one end of the street to the next. She couldn't see a sign of a body, and there hadn't been a telltale crashing noise, so there wasn't time to waste.
Selina turned to go, feeling, if possible, the slightest sense of disappointment. Even a sense of being cheated. It was a pity he hadn't been able to keep up -- he was faster than all the complacent cops in the city combined, and she would have liked their chase to continue.
Batman. If she was looking below for him, she was looking in the wrong place. After her quick swipe out of the way, he had to improvise. Using his grappling gun and the momentum of his fall, he was able to swing -- he had let himself fall lower to the ground than she had, swooping past the building. He was quick, turning the corner of the building and the grappling gun reeled him in to the roof faster than he could have swung.
When Catwoman turned to leave, she would find him on the other side of the roof, standing tall and staring at her. He did not waste anytime, however, rushing toward her with determination. He was pissed off and losing his patience with this whole situation, even if he was more on an equal playing field with her than any of the other villains that had cropped up these past couple months.
Catwoman. She'd turned to go, prepared to break back into a running stride and swing her way back toward the narrowing alleyways, en route to a network where few would dare to follow. But the long shadow that suddenly cut across the roof, revealed by the dim street lighting, caused her to freeze momentarily. She was, after all, still new to an adversary this capable. Mingled shock and disbelief flashed briefly across Selina's face at the silhouette staring her down from the other side of the roof.
Where had he come from?
Her pause had delayed her enough. Even if she did backflip off the roof again, that particular move was getting tiresome. If he'd stayed with her this long, he would keep up again. She had to change her routine.
So this time, when Batman charged, Selina stood her ground, leg muscles tensing as he approached. When he was within range, she took two bounces of the feet toward him, then brought her leg up and around her body in a roundhouse kick, aiming directly for the face, teeth gritted. It was well-executed: Ted would have been proud. The suit creaked slightly as she pulled back immediately to catch her balance in a fighting crouch. It was late -- far past her intended bedtime -- and it was abundantly clear this wouldn't be ending on a chase.
"I've had enough aggressive dates to know," Selina tossed in her new admirer's direction when she had some time to speak, eyes glittering behind the mask, "most men buy me dinner before they pounce." Extended claws gleamed from the tips of her gloves like small, sharp knives. "No chance of a tête-à-tête over candlelight?" There was amusement in her tone. This one didn't seem to be the type to have much of a sense of humor.
Batman. It was one thing to chase across rooftops and break into old lady's apartment to steal jewelry. Batman wasn't expecting her to kick like that. Clearly, he had underestimated her and that wouldn't happen again. When the heel of her boot connected to his chin, his body twisted from the impact. His eyes caught sight of the clawed fingertips and he didn't want to see what those could do.
She sure talked a lot during combat and she will have to excuse him if he didn't quite feel the need to keep up his side of the conversation. He was too busy calculating her movements, ducking back from her roundhouse kick. Her movements were what he responded to, not her words. He had to bait her. His fist flew past her head, as she deflected -- what he wanted. The second she moved to attack, he grabbed hold of her arm. His grip was firm and strong, yanking her off balance. Immediately, Batman twisted it behind her tightly, using his other hand to grab onto her shoulder and shove her against a near-by surface.
Catwoman. Definitely no sense of humor.
Selina's eyes were wide behind the mask as he seized her arm, then spun her around to pin her against a brick chimney. Her breaths were shallow, labored from the chase -- and now this. This was more like the Batman she'd heard about -- read about.
And then, she turned to look at him, her mask slipping. In the poor lighting, it was impossible to discern what color her eyes were, but this was Batman's first close look at the woman he'd stalked. She blinked once, twice, eyeing him past thick lashes, attempting to bring him into better focus despite her peripheral vision. The moments passed without a comment as her breathing slowly returned to a more normal rate.
But not quickly enough. Catwoman, too, was getting her first close look -- and she liked what she saw. Broad shoulders. Chiseled jaw. Kevlar enhanced his muscles, but given his build and the way he moved, he was in good shape underneath.
Pity she had to cut him for getting physical.
Her eyes remained locked on his as the moments passed. Fascinatingly, he hadn't attempted to put the cuffs on her yet, but while the two had held each other's gaze, Selina had gradually wriggled her free hand downward, toward his thigh. It settled there discreetly, just hovering without touching.
Her mouth curved into the predatory smile Batman was doubtless becoming familiar with. Suddenly, the claws elongated like retractable razors, slicing through the suit and into his leg.
The move worked. His grip loosened momentarily, and Selina wriggled, slamming her shoulder into his chest. Partially freed, she had enough room to turn around, such that her arm was no longer pinned. She had to work quickly. Eyes glinting like steel behind the mask, Catwoman slammed her knee viciously into what would have been his crotch area, then twisted her arm out of his grasp.
"Afraid I can't stay to play tonight," she delivered the words as smoothly as she would another dose of claws, lashing out again eagerly with her leg to knock him off balance. "But I've sent men into physical therapy for less. Suggest you enjoy the uncut --" she'd pulled back now that she'd plotted out her final escape route, with a crack of her whip, "-- version of your appendages." The words were clipped, less elegant than before. At the hilt of the whip, the claws glinted menacingly as another swipe, a warning to stand back, was implemented. Wa-psssh. Gone was the bravado and the mocking characterizing her previous words: Catwoman hadn't enjoyed the experience of being one-upped, and now, she was communicating just how serious she was.
Batman. When Catwoman held his gaze, his jaw steeled and his breathing was calculated. It was one thing to chase across rooftops and exchange blows, but it was another to get a close look at the woman you've been after all evening, even if her face was under a mask. Batman's eyes locked on her face before meeting her eyes and keeping eye contact. The rare quiet moments should have caused him to loose the edge of adrenaline, letting his guard down while he looked at her. But it didn't happen that way -- his grip stayed solid and he let himself just look.
That's why her slash through his leg threw him off guard, brought back to reality. Before he could catch his balance, she attacked. Before he could react, it was over. She was backing off and his eyes shifted to look at her from where he was bent over. His pause was brief before he lunged forward, his fist swinging.
Catwoman. Catwoman met the approaching fist with an aggressive leap forward, muscles clenched.
And in a flash of steel, four slash marks were left on the chest of the batsuit. Appendages she'd spared, but she hadn't said anything about an uncut chest.
She was off and running immediately, taking advantage of the Bat's surprised retreat by blowing past him. The rush of the wind stirred by her getaway roared in her ears as she sped for the roof's edge, all her senses screaming for her to run, jump, vanish from sight immediately. It had become apparent to her tonight that he didn't stay down, that you had to seize advantage of every second offered to you to slip out of his reach.
So she leapt, pouch with stolen necklace jangling against her skin. No last looks, no blown kiss, as was becoming customary in Catwoman's getaways: she knew she'd angered the Bat enough to warrant more than a pinned arm the next time the two met. And they would meet again, whether she was prepared for another confrontation or not. Even as she sped toward the ground and pulled her wrist back to crack her whip toward the shadows, she couldn't help but feel a rush entirely unrelated to the fall -- she wanted a rematch.
And Catwoman, as Gotham -- and the Bat -- would come to realize, got what she wanted.