Batman Legacy
Copyright© 2025 by Uruks
Chapter 2
Action/Adventure Story: Chapter 2 - The origin story of Batman meant to capture the grit and spirit of the comics. This is just a fanfiction and is not meant for commercial use. While I do my best to honor the original story of Batman, I admit that it has my personal flair in it that you may notice if you're familiar with my work. I used AI to help me refine the book, but the dialogue, plot, and tone are all mine. I've always loved Batman and wanted to write my own fanfic that includes Gotham's full story and his legend. Enjoy.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Crime Fan Fiction Superhero Science Fiction
Velvet Den – Chaos on the Main Stage
Shrek was still half-moaning into the kiss when Selina ended it—thank God. His breath tasted like overpriced champagne and ego. Definitely the farthest thing from Batman imaginable. She wiped her lips with the back of her glove the moment she pulled away and prepared to move on to the next step of the plan. Then her instincts screamed. She froze.
Several men in tailored mafia suits were pushing toward the stage, jackets tugged back, hands sliding toward holsters. Their eyes were fixed directly on her. And on Shrek. Selina straightened slowly. The first pistol came up. Then a second. Then six more.
Max Shrek finally looked up. “What the fuck?!”
The world exploded. Gunfire ripped through the nightclub in a deafening roar. Shrek’s bodyguards were shredded immediately, collapsing in a spray of blood. They didn’t have enough time to draw their own weapons Screams tore through the room as patrons ducked, dancers stumbled off platforms, bottles shattered, lights burst. Several audience members endured horrible wounds that left them screaming and bloody ... sometimes worse.
Selina reacted before she even thought about it—her body moved like instinct, like muscle memory. She grabbed Skrek by the collar.
“Down!”
She yanked him down behind the stage, rolling to one of the platform chairs. More gunmen surged forward, cutting off her escape, guns raised and barking fire in her direction. The wood beside her exploded into splinters. Shrek shrieked and tried to crawl under her. Damn it. She was trapped.
And then—he arrived. Batman dropped from the rafters like a guillotine of shadow and fury. His cape unfurled and hardened instantly, morphing into a shield that wrapped around her and Shrek like a living wall. Bullets hammered it in a storm of sparks and metallic thuds.
Shrek shrieked under the cloak of black armor. “OH GOD—DON’T LET ME DIE!”
Batman didn’t move. His silhouette was a monolith. When the gunfire finally paused, a collective click signaled empty magazines. Batman moved. His cape snapped back into its normal shape as he reached behind him and flicked his wrist. SNAP—SHHNK—WHIP-WHIP-WHIP!
A single Batarang arced through the air, slicing through half a dozen pistols in one elegant sweep. Metal clattered. Blood spattered as the thugs screamed, clutching their ruined hands.
Selina sprang into action with him, whip already cracking like thunder across the stage. Her leather coil struck wrist after wrist, sending guns flying while cutting deep, bloody lines across fingers and knuckles.
Then it became a brawl. Batman lunged into the nearest thug, driving a brutal knee into his gut before hurling him across a table—the wood exploding into pieces.
Selina vaulted off a pole, kicking one man square in the jaw, then used his falling body as a springboard to flip behind another. Her heel struck the back of his knee; her retractable claws popped out of her gloves to rake across his face. He went down screaming. A thug grabbed her from behind. She smashed her head backward into his nose. Blood spurted. He loosened his grip. She snagged a bottle from the bar and cracked it over his skull.
Batman grabbed a chair and slammed it across another man’s face—splinters flying as the thug crumpled. Two more charged him at once. He spun, dropped low, swept their legs, and used their momentum to fling them into a cluster of terrified patrons. Selina’s whip coiled around another thug’s neck—she yanked him forward and slammed her knee into his chest.
Batman caught one man’s fist mid-punch, twisted, and dislocated his arm with a sickening crunch. Bodies flew. Glass shattered. The nightclub emptied in sheer panic.
And then—the tumultuous sounds of battle finally receded. Only the throb of club music persisted, obnoxious and jarring now that the violence had ended. Selina stood there, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths, skin glistening beneath the neon glare. Batman, still and imposing, was a fortress of shadow beside her.
She looked at him—really looked at him—overwhelmed all over again by the sheer force of his presence. Then she smirked, cocking one hip in her nearly nonexistent outfit.
“I guess you heard about the show,” she teased breathlessly. “Never took you for a Peeping Tom.”
Batman groaned as if in actual pain and rolled his eyes behind the cowl, muttering something indistinguishable under his breath. He turned toward the source of all the trouble. Max Shrek, trembling, covered in spilled champagne and dust, stared up at both of them like a trapped rat.
“Jesus Christ, lady,” Shrek stammered. “You fight as good as the real Catwoman.”
Batman sighed as if dealing with a child. “That’s because she is the real Catwoman, you idiot.”
Shrek’s jaw dropped. “Really?”
Selina gave him a little shrug and a nervous laugh. “Surprise.”
Then the world’s dumbest grin spread across his bloody, sweaty face. “I kissed the real Catwoman! This is the best day of my—”
Batman grabbed a fistful of Shrek’s hair and slammed his face into the stage. CRACK! Shrek dropped into unconsciousness like a dead weight.
Selina blinked. “Harsh.”
Batman didn’t even look at her. “We need to talk.”
Catwoman gave a soft laugh, shaking her head as though the smoke and gunpowder in the air were nothing more than scented mist. Her gloved hands slipped behind her back, elbows lifting playfully.
“And I’d love to have that talk, Bats...” she purred. “Any other time. But right now, I’m kinda on a job.”
Batman stalked toward her, the weight of his fury filling the room like a physical presence. Shadows clung to him; the light dared not.
“I’m aware,” he growled. “You’re working for Sofia Falcone.”
Selina’s eyes widened behind her mask. “How did you—”
“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Batman cut her off sharply. “All that matters is what I don’t know. Why did she send you to steal Shrek’s biometric data? I know they’re in a partnership to cut into her father’s business, so what reason could she have to target him?”
For a split second, Selina almost answered him—almost. Something in her chest tightened at his tone, his intensity, the sheer force of him. Why did she always feel like she was seconds away from spilling everything the moment he demanded it? What was wrong with her?
She scowled, forcing steel into her voice as she stepped forward to meet him. “How about you answer a question of mine for once?” she snapped. “Why was Falcone targeting me and Shrek?”
Batman huffed—a short, frustrated exhale. “Obviously, he found out about Sofia’s plans to crack Shrek’s mainframe. That kind of power could give her full control of his shipping company. He couldn’t let that happen—even if it meant killing Shrek.”
He glanced away, thinking aloud. “The only question is—how did Falcone know?”
Selina shrugged, one hip jutting in a lazy, dangerous curve. “Well, the only thing I can think of is that he has a mole in her inner circle.”
Batman’s eyes snapped back to her. “I don’t want you involved in this any more than you already are,” he said. “Just give me the scans you took off Shrek, and tell me where you were supposed to meet Sofia.”
Selina balked—offended, amused, and insulted all at once. “So you’re just casually giving me orders now?” Her eyes narrowed. “And why do you want the scans anyway?”
“Because Shrek’s dirty,” Batman answered. “I’m going to use those scans to hack into his mainframe and dig up enough evidence to bury him for life. And I’ll tie it all to Sofia in the process.”
Selina sighed dramatically and slid into full seductress mode. Her hips swayed. Her shoulders relaxed. Her voice dripped honey. She leaned in close—very close—her hand flattening boldly against the armored chest of Gotham’s Dark Knight.
“Well...” she whispered, breath brushing his jaw. “I could possibly be convinced to help you, Bats...” She dragged a finger upward along the bat symbol. “But only if you make it worth my while first.”
Batman stared at her—actually stared, momentarily disarmed by her proximity, her scent, her heat. “What do you want?” he asked quietly.
Her smile deepened, slow and feline, as her hand rose to caress the lower half of his cowl. “Oh ... I can think of a couple things.”
Before he could react—before she could close the distance any further—a sound shattered the moment. The heavy slam of doors. The click-clack of loading bolts.
Batman’s head snapped toward the noise. More mobsters burst into the nightclub—this time carrying machine guns. The air erupted in gunfire once again. Bullets tore through tables, walls, shattered bottles, and lighting rigs. Batman grabbed Shrek’s limp body and dragged him behind an upturned booth, raising his armored gauntlets to intercept the deadly barrage. Sparks flew off the reinforced plates with every hit.
Across the bar, Selina crouched behind a pillar. Her eyes flicked to Batman. Then to the open hallway. Then back to Batman. She knew what she needed to do. She hated that she hesitated—even for a breath.
“Catwoman! Don’t run!” Batman barked over the gunshots.
Her jaw clenched. She hated this. Hated him. Hated how he looked at her like she could be someone she wasn’t.
“Sorry, Bats,” she shouted back. “But I’ve got my own neck to think about.”
And she bolted—darting through the chaos with panther-like speed—leaving Batman alone, furious and surrounded as machine gun fire lit up the club like a private warzone.
A minute later...
As she ran up the stairs, Selina pulled out a small vial hidden in her bra. She unclasped the vial and used the Q-tip inside to wipe at her lips, drawing out the spittle she saved over from her kiss with Shrek. She tucked the vial into a compartment on her belt and kept ascending, her heartrate soaring with every step.
Ignoring the frightened dancers cringing in their corners, Catwoman burst into her dressing room, practically slamming the door behind her. Gunfire still rattled the walls downstairs, sharp cracks echoing through the floorboards. For a moment—just a moment—her heart seized.
Please be okay.
She scowled immediately, forcing the thought away. Of course he’d be okay. He was Batman. She’d bet on him against the entire U.S. military if she had to. He was probably tearing through those goons right now, furious and unstoppable.
Selina sprinted across the room, heading straight for the vanity. She reached under the table, her fingers finding the hidden latch. A click—then a narrow panel popped open, revealing her sleek black laptop. Her real one. The one no one was ever supposed to see.
She yanked it out, flipped it open, and in seconds she had the stolen scans uploading onto a flash drive. Fingerprints, retinal patterns, DNA samples, keycard replica—everything Sofia wanted.
The moment the transfer completed, Selina shoved the drive into her belt and hit a concealed key sequence on the laptop. The screen flashed red. SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE INITIATED. She tossed the device back into the hidden drawer, slammed it shut, and stepped away as a muffled foomph erupted from within. A small plume of smoke hissed out from the cracks—no evidence left behind.
She turned, reaching for the suitcase where her real Catsuit was stored. Suddenly Sirens wailed outside. Her blood froze. She darted to the window just in time to see Gotham PD swarming into the ground floor. The mobsters were already being cuffed—meaning Batman had plowed through them with the efficiency of a wrecking ball wearing a cape. Which meant...
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. He was coming for her. Fast. Selina’s heart kicked hard. Damn him. Damn him for being so effective. Damn him for being so... cute when he was mad at her.
She leapt straight through her dressing room window, shattering the glass in a rain of glittering shards. Midair, she flicked her wrist and sent her whip snapping outward. It coiled around a rusted fire escape rail, and she swung out into the cold Gotham night, wearing almost nothing at all.
This is fine, she told herself. This is normal.
Behind her, a grappling line fired. She didn’t need to look back to know who it was. Batman tore out of the same window an instant later, landing cleanly on the wall before launching after her—cape flaring, boots hitting concrete with impossibly controlled precision.