Who am I?

July 17, 2014:

Catwoman drops in on Bruce Wayne and has a brief chat.

Characters

NPCs: Alfred

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Articles read, news and press releases, Alfred's tight lipped appeal… Selina hated having to hunt anyone down under any other circumstances aside from stealing from them, so she mixed the two now.

Rubbed the wrong way and using it as a driving force, that liquid shadow was a seeming figment scaling up the side of Wayne Industries tower, finding the correct room and hovering there as Gothams weather whipped along the sleek physique that is suctioned to the glass of the high rise, several dozen stories up, one hand sliding free of the suction in a flash of metallic…

Nails on a chalkboard glass is not articulately cut in this manner by any normal means, both hands were used, each finger tipped in a special cutting blade that rent that glass to articulate pieces with each angry slice - treating it like the arm of a couch - until..

Piece. By. Fucking. Piece. That window comes undone and Catwoman's figure oozes into the room like a primordial shadow brought to life, booted feet touching down gingerly, the tips of toes missing those bits of glass as she works at her tac belt, loaded with the gadgets this thief needs, her /toys/ that dodge her through detection lazers, detect audio surveillance and have her slipping in and out….

Here, in this moment… Catwoman does not care overly much about detection, he deserves a heads up as she moves to the wall, rips a mural off of it and reveals a safes face. Pressing against it as if it was a lover that costumed hear takes to the cold metal face while clawed fingers smooth over the combination dials…

"Where have you been all my life….?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Sharp. Just make sure I see the invoice." A familiar voice, Bruce Wayne's voice and it's only a room away. Muffled by distance Catwoman would still know it from anywhere. It sounds like he is on the phone.
"Yes?" Now the intercom.
"Mr.Wayne, the security has been triggered on several floors. Your office."
"Oh? Let me check it a moment."
Footsteps, loud, casual, like the owner of them is comfortable here. He should be after all, he owns the entire building. "Oh yes. It's just a false alarm. I must have forgotten to slide my access card when I came in. Thank you for alerting me.
"Are you sure you don't want someone to come up and look around?"
"No, I think I'll be just fine. I just walked the suite, it's only me here."
"Very well Mr.Wayne, have a good night, sir."
"You too."
It goes silent now for several heartbeats and then there is walking again, walking towards the room she is in and then it stops at the door. The door opens and a light shines through, a tie sails through the air and lands on the back of one of the recliners in the lush room.
Footfalls leave the doorway and clink sound is heard, a glass perhaps? Then a phone rings. "Hello? Oh hi, Jessica. Yes I was waiting for you to call. Did I get your text earlier? Let me check."
A pause.
"Ah, I see you've been working on your tan lines."

In one hand Catwoman holds an envelope, her other hand rising to slice across the top much akin to a letter opener, then each piece of paper is flicked over, a wrinkle of her nose as she pulls out the payroll checks and she fans them out like cards of a pro gambler, sweeping them back and forth before her masked face as she tosses the large envelope aside and raises her goggles.

"Oh to earn a proper living…" Catwoman's voice utters forth, bordered on hiss at the edges of those melodious tones. Each swaggering step that carries her around the desk has the handle of the whip slapping against the curve of her hip, the door opening the only thing bringing her pause as she stands there in the shadows.

Light from the streets filters through the sliced glass in slivers, cutting slender paths across the black sheen-ed figure that stood there like a statue as Bruce enters and commences his call. One brow rises, finely manicured and cutting its high arched path upward along her forehead before her hand goes to that whip's handle and twists it free with a swift rotation of her wrist.

The sound that came first is a whisper, a serpent slithering free of its coils around a honed waist just before that sharp crack sounds out, cutting the murmurings of normalcy with one of demand in attempt to lash that phone free of his grip.

"Looks like she needs to go another hour in that oven before she is a tasty shade of baked. I'll gladly aid her in the endeavor." Catwoman speaks now, whether the phone is dropped or not, interrupting the call in progress with her own proclamation in the backdrop, all the while propping the curve of her ass on the edge of the desk and fanning herself with employee's payroll.

"And to think, I thought you a man of /class/."

The whip-crack isn't unrewarded the cell phone pops up out of Bruce Wayne's hand to land in a clatter upon the Persian Hand-Knotted rug that covers his office floor. A wince is held across his features as one hand rises up to massage the other, "Brand new WayneTech phone, still a prototype. I think you just broke it." Slowly the billionaire playboy looks over towards the sleek feline figure that is now taking ownership of his office desk.

"Selina, you could have just called and you wouldn't have had to scale… " He can feel the draft. "Over fifty floors just to talk to me." A flex of his hand and he continues to rub fingers along digits.

"I'd have gotten a busy signal, or possibly responded to after Agent Orange." Catwoman states as she gestures to the fallen phone and tosses the payroll checks towards him to fan out and flutter over top the phone as much nary a care display as she gave his statement in regards to its possible broken state.

"Make more durable playthings." Now she is sliding that whip back slowly over her empty hand, fingers caressing over the tightly braided leather until it is all gathered and set beside her on the desk.

Green gaze narrows to near slits as arms fold across her chest and she commences a more business like repose. "You disappear for a year, and the only things seen is Bruce Wayne and entourage as well as your inane dribble like a frat boy while you even sport their costume." A derisive snort passes as she cuts her gaze away and to the window. "I am giving you a fitting welcome home."

"A fitting welcome home would be a gift basket, a card and a friendly dinner. Not breaking and entering followed by assault and vandalism. " Bruce Wayne is one to talk, "It was an important year and I had my reasons, the Batman wasn't necessary and Bruce Wayne had to still exist. Being seen with those… playthings keeps my alibi intact, it keeps the separation from myself and Bruce." Down to the nitty gritty truth of it also some of that crazy talk where he refers to himself as Batman more than a human being. "You act like you're upset, Miss Kyle have you developed a soft spot? We've talked about that. It's not healthy for either of us to become too close." Possibly another reason he vanished. Possibly.
Walking over he picks up the phone and dusts it off turning it over slowly in his fingers. As if he is inspecting it.

"I have plenty of soft spots, Bruce." That tone in Catwoman's voice is one that lowers to something more dulcet, though his name still harbors an edge, a hiss that is all claws.

"You get what you give. A year. A /year/ of nothing and you expect me to even remotely trust you in or out of a suit. Not a word. It says how much you trust me."

Now that gaze cuts back over to him just before falling to one hand that releases her forearm where it was resting, fingers curling and straightening to retract the claws that bore a threat even to her own attire at the moment.

"I am feeling anything but /soft/ right now, I have my own playthings for that." Turning her hand to ensure all is tucked away and safe within gloved hold both hands now curl over the eave of the desk as she rocks back and slides to fully seat on its surface.

"Your playthings have made you soft, it's best I remind you you're a man. Not an ape in a monkeysuit… Tshh, so dirty… those."

"My playthings or an ape in a monkey suit?" Bruce jokes just a little before he turns the phone around and hands it to her. There was no phone call from a woman named Jessica and no pictures of an orange woman in or out of a bikini. The man can be surprising at times with his occasional unexpected sense of humor.

Moving around to sit down on her side of /his/ desk he rests his hands on the edges, leaning forward so he is staring down at her. Usual for him to find the most imposing angle to speak to another person from, both as the Dark Knight and as the power suit wearing businessman. "Our lifestyles dictate differently than you desire. I understand you have soft spots but you shouldn't. Haven't you learned that with my disappearance? How did you feel? Your anger right now is reason enough for me to have left without word." He ignores her comment about her own playthings. This is Catwoman after all, he never laid claim upon her and he knows her nature.

"I shall not know the highest bliss, and give my name to the abyss. Which waits to claim me as its own." He says as if that explains it all before sliding back off the desk to walk around behind her so he can stare out over Gotham. It's pouring. It has been for days it makes the lights blur and run with the waves of water that smears over glass.

Catwoman takes the phone, looks it over and tosses it over her shoulder and… oops… Out the window like a discarded dead animal a cat is done playing with. "Both." She states, turning slowly to face him as his shadow cloaks her before his physical form hovers just above, making her press back to stay out of contact with him, her upper lip curling back in a flash of ivories. Like liquid she melts down off the edge of the desk and slinks between him and that hard mahogany face to rise a few feet away in the shadows, watching him head to his vigil.

"You mistook my meaning for /soft spots/." The whip is slid between fingers once more, one end tossed over her shoulder so that the separated tails at the tip dance over the small of her back, bouncing back and forth with the lick of tongues as she steps forward, around Bruce in his silence as she responds. "I am fond of them, of the inferior beings of the abyss, of those who are full of longing." With the final word she is standing just behind him, though her eyes stare out and past it all really, losing focus before regaining it on his stoic profile.

A small faint ghost of a smile appears across Bruce Wayne's features and he looks sidelong with his hazel eyes at Catwoman. No words necessary. He conveys plenty with expression alone, something as Batman he has very little of and as the mask, there is overly plenty. Most of it she no doubt despises.

Selina lowers her chin, her smirk coming, but it is a small thing that barely touches the corners of lips… Then fades as she starts her languid pace once more, a liquid glide like a panther over familiar terrain as she slowly walks a circle around Bruce, that whip still toying its own silent play over second skinned curvature.

"Don't patronize me, Bruce." Selina says then as she stops just in front of him, almost lining the front of his body with her own, but again not /touching/ she knows better, knows what it would do if there is more contact other then…

Gloved hand rises and fingertips touch down upon his jawline, one digit pressing at his chin to make his lift upward as if she is about to inspect him for cracks, flaws… Diamond inspection to the very core…

"What about Selina's invitation to dinner served in a gift basket with a /shining/ bow encasing a heartwarming card, Bruce?" The moan of attire sounds out her motion as she rises to toes to keep from that touch just to barely touch down along his profile, her lips hovering just beside his ear. "Or have you returned with Batman, is he /needed/?" Slowly she beguns to step back towards her broken window as her touch slides from him.

"Both. As always." Bruce replies to her as she circles him and struts away. His eyes draw from the window to follow her figure, shes an extremely athletic woman. It's admirable. She knows this too, it's one of her many weapons.

Turning around so he is still facing her with his hands clasped behind his back he carries on, "Nothing has changed aside from a… hiatus. I'm back now and things will pick up as they should, though, the SRD is a bit of a setback. I didn't realize without Gordon and my own efforts they would get so out of hand. I suppose it didn't take much. East End… fill me in… " Distractions from the obvious. Bruce is moving back to his desk now to take his seat.

Looking away and over her shoulder at the drop that is emphasized by the falling torrent of rain, her boot kicking a few shards of the glass to fall with it, watched until they meld with the glassy droplets and disappear to below…

"Good." All she has to say as she finally looks back in time to see the powerful man of Gotham claim his throne. The mischievous smile returns in its slight path, but she does not move forward, her own resistance remaining in futility.

"It's mine, those people.. Are mine to ward." A desirable amongst 'undesirables' and a fighter for the forgotten and discarded since she had risen from those ashes herself. "Just as you have your throne, I have taken my own." In saying that her hand extends in the direction of east End, fingers curling inward like she is grabbing something from the air and coveting it in clawed grip.

"People who need me…" She adds lightly, almost so light the audible rain can drown it out.

"And you can handle it?" Bruce asks an actual question, not something he intends to sound condescending. "You're not as well-outfitted as I am. We can remedy that if you want." An offer he doubts she will accept but there none the less. "If you're serious about keeping the East End clean… I can give you assistance but can you keep your emotions in check? I know you, Selina. I know how passionate you are about some things… I've had to stop you from killing before. You understand if I am not around to stop you… I will come for you." Also not a threat. Just another promise, an assurance. It's just who he is.

"Just like you can handle the rest of Gotham." Catwoman now moves away from the ledge, towards the desk where he is seated, one finger hooking through the loop that is at the hollow of her throat, keeping that outfit bound to her figure until she tugs it downward..

"You've been gone a year, I have obtained what I need in your absence." She states casually as she reaches the opposing side of his desk, leaning forward to lift one leg and enter a crawl over the lacquered expanse to deposit a small device onto his desk that is withdrawn from within her suit, just one button on it.
Play.

Hovering just before Bruce one hand hooks to grip on his side of the desk and curl over the lip. "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster…" She says as those deep blue eyes sweep over him unfinished the phrase he should well know, they all should.

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep."

"I manage and I always keep my promises." Bruce retorts. "I've seen some of your operation already, the Tin Roof Club? This woman, Melody Kenway. A lot like you in this cut neutrality thing, you realize some of her work involves known criminals? The Tin Roof Club is beginning to look just like anything Cobblepot runs you have criminals there who are even wanted by Interpol in and outing on a regular basis. I thought you were better than that, Selina."His pause and Bruce speaks again, "I know what you're going to say as well. This keeps you close to the Intel. We both know better, this is who you are, you enjoy the rush and thrill of rubbing elbows with the filth."

The message playing is encrypted and a pretty blaring red alert at that, a hit out on Joker posted by anonymous. "It's obvious who that is. It's Hugo Strange and it's bait more for me than it is for the Joker. It's all propaganda." Bruce scrolls through the message and taps another button, a cipher program will run that cross analogs the encryption to find a key. It'll take a bit but Batman himself can't direct his attention to it just yet. "I always keep my promises."

The message for the Joker hit scrolls away to be replaced by a signal send from Alfred via text that reads, <This blasted computer is lighting up. Geological disturbances are triggering your seismographic alert systems. I believe these tremors are being caused by explosions.>

"I imagine this isn't a coincidence. I'm already getting traffic on this message and I'm behind."

"Oh, Bruce…" With the unzipping of the top the eared 'cowl' Selina bears had fallen away to hang lamely at her shoulders, leaving all of her persona revealed, thugh he already knew. One hand extends and fingertips trail along his strong jaw to linger at his chin where they curl and the faintest sliver of those metal claws can be glimpsed. "You forget so quickly, but don't let me be the reminder." A single tap of a wrapped digit to his chin and she begins to crawl backward and away from him, dropping back to be on the other side of his desk. The business side.

"I do what I have to, to be what I desire and what I am. A girl has to have her creature comforts and they afford me what I just dropped in your lap. Tell me, what does yours give you?" Selina inquires as she picks up a slow rolling stroll around his office, fingertips trailing over that mural she had torn from its place to reveal the safe.

"Pretty paintings, hard oak desks, gold plated pens… Armani suits and Versache ties. All things I can obtain. All things I can rip apart. I have my own as well, but I also do not let anyone take from me what means the most…"

As she says that her finger hooks back into that loop, drawing her cat-suit back closed and her hood back up, standing behind Bruce but staring out that broken window.

"Who -I- /am./"

A fingertip depresses a hidden pad underneath the desk and a whirring of bolts and grinding is audible as something behind the northern wall of his office moves. A click * chunk and sliding soon results in the hiss of a hidden cabinet springing forth, heavy duty clamps keep it further secured, "Voice recognition, security overide, Forseti." Aesir God of Justice. Selina Kyle is probably not surprised by this nor the reveal of a fully equipped Batsuit inside that vault.

"And this is who I am."

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