Batman Legacy
Copyright© 2025 by Uruks
Chapter 3
Action/Adventure Story: Chapter 3 - 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
The Scarlet Widow – Midnight on the Docks
The cargo freighter loomed in the darkness like a sleeping metal giant. Its rust-red letters spelled out THE SCARLET WIDOW, barely visible beneath layers of grime and salt. Massive crates were stacked high on its deck—steel tombstones hiding contraband, drugs, weapons ... and people. People who should never have been cargo.
Selina landed on a rooftop overlooking the dock and stared down at the freighter’s hulking silhouette. She’d been here before—escorted by Sofia’s men during one of their “business tours.” She remembered the screaming. The desperate pounding against crates. The muffled cries begging for help. The kind of sound that clawed its way into the bones. A shudder slid down her spine. Then she glanced at her boot. Batman’s tracker still pulsed faintly.
“This should be far enough,” she murmured.
Sofia always scanned her contractors before a meeting, and Selina wasn’t about to let the woman discover she was being tailed—at least not until Batman was close enough to crash the party. She crouched and peeled off the tracker. It was tiny—slick, circular, barely the size of a sesame seed. Ingeniously crafted. Classic Bruce. She crushed it between her fingers.
“Alright, handsome,” she whispered to the night. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
She was still wearing her stripper costume—barely anything at all—but she didn’t have the luxury of stopping for a wardrobe change. Not when a Falcone heir with a superiority complex and a torture-happy streak was expecting her. At least she still had her cat-like mask on. It was the only form of armor she had at the moment, but she’d take every scrap she could get.
Selina vaulted from the rooftop and swung through the night. Her whip snapped from ledge to beam. From beam to crane. And finally—she landed on the deck of The Scarlet Widow. Fog drifted in thick rolls across the ship. Cargo crates towered around her like steel canyons. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Selina’s instincts prickled. Years of dancing with danger had given her a sixth sense. She wasn’t alone.
“You can come out now, Sofia,” Catwoman called, voice sharp and steady. “I have what you asked for.”
The shadows shifted. But it wasn’t Sofia who stepped forward first. It was her army. Italian mobsters—deserters from Carmine’s crew. Triad bruisers with serpent tattoos rippling along their forearms. Yakuza enforcers in crisp suits, silent and deadly. A wall of muscle, scars, and cold, hungry eyes.
Then she appeared. Sofia Falcone. The demon in designer clothing. She emerged from behind a towering crate, hands in the pockets of a tailored black coat that hugged her hourglass frame. Her hair was styled in a sleek wave, dark and glossy. A scar cut across one side of her lip—a reminder of the father she claimed she’d surpassed. Her eyes were cold hazel, sharp as broken glass, but her mouth held a smirk that was pure predator. She looked every bit the version of Sofia Falcone one would expect: elegant, polished, beautiful—and terrifyingly unhinged beneath the surface.
Her gaze slid down Catwoman’s nearly naked form. “Well, well,” Sofia purred. “Didn’t have time to change, I take it?”
Selina. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Sofia’s grin widened like a wolf’s. “Don’t be. I’m quite enjoying the view.”
Catwoman internally groaned. She had almost forgotten how pointedly—and aggressively—Sofia flirted. And unlike harmless admiration, Sofia’s brand of interest always came with threats wrapped in silk.
Selina kept her face stoic. “Despite my appearance, I was hoping we could keep this professional.”
Sofia made a mock pout, her lower lip jutting forward. “Oh? You’re not going to play with me? What, do I need a cape and pointy ears?”
Catwoman choked on a snort. “You need some other equipment, too. And it may shock you, sweetheart, but I’m not gay. I don’t even swing in the bisexual category.”
She shrugged lightly. “Nothing personal. You’re free to pork whoever you want. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, we’ll get along fine.”
Sofia’s eyes lit up with something dark and dangerous. Her smile sharpened into something that felt like a knife sliding between Selina’s ribs.
“Oh,” she murmured, voice breathy and cold. “I hope so, Catwoman. I really, really hope so.”
The hairs along Selina’s neck rose. She prayed Batman was close. She stood tall despite the cold breeze rolling over the docks, despite the half-naked outfit she never intended to face a crime boss in, despite the tension coiling in her spine like a drawn whip. She kept her chin lifted, her eyes steady, every inch of her posture radiating the confidence she refused to surrender to Sofia Falcone.
“So...” Sofia’s voice was all silk and venom. “Shall we begin?”
Selina ignored the chill crawling beneath her skin and glanced toward one of the hulking men waiting at Sofia’s side—a bear of a man in a sharp black suit, built like an armored truck with a shaved head and knuckles scarred from years of enforcement.
“Bruno,” Selina said tightly. “If you please.”
Bruno stepped forward, holding a compact but advanced scanning device in one meaty palm. He let his gaze travel down her exposed form with the same hungry look Sofia had used moments earlier. Selina’s eyes narrowed, claws flexing ever so slightly.
“Just no touchy, Bruno,” she warned, voice sharp as glass. “Unless you fancy losing a hand.”
Sofia chuckled, low and pleased, stepping closer with predatory amusement. “Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. My men know very well that I don’t like it when anyone touches my toys.”
Selina shot her a lethal glare. “I’m not your toy. But he can scan me ... as long as it ends there.”
Bruno swallowed, nodding quickly. Catwoman lifted her arms, cold air brushing her bare stomach and thighs. Bruno ran the scanner over her body—slow, thorough, irritatingly so. Each pass beeped softly as it swept over her arms, legs, torso, boots, gloves, and mask.
Finally—beep-beep. A green light flashed. Bruno straightened and nodded to his boss. “She’s clean.”
Sofia hummed, pleased, before turning toward a trio of Triad enforcers lingering near the crates. “And Batman?” she asked lightly. “We shouldn’t be expecting him, right?”
One Triad fighter bowed slightly. “After he engaged our enforcers, he was seen heading west toward the Precinct. It looks like we’re in the clear.”
Selina’s pulse spiked. What? He should’ve been behind her. He should’ve stayed on her trail. He never lost her. Not unless ... She buried the panic before Sofia could smell it. Her mask didn’t just hide her face. It hid everything.
Sofia approached with elegant, predatory ease and extended a manicured hand. “So, Kitty,” she purred. “Got a little present for me?”
Selina kept her expression stone cold as she reached into the thin belt at her hip and withdrew a small flash drive. She placed it in Sofia’s palm.
“I also have his voice ID and password saved on a separate drive,” Catwoman said evenly. “But you’ll only get that after I get my diamond.”
Sofia’s smirk curled wider. She accepted the drive and passed it to one of her tech goons—a wiry man with sleeve tattoos and sharp cybernetic enhancements along his forearms. He plugged it into a datapad and typed rapidly.
After a moment, he looked up, removing the drive and handing it back to Sofia. “She did it. Prints, retinal, keycard scan. Everything we need.”
Selina slid another object from her belt—a tiny glass vial with a Q-tip inside, the cotton end stained faintly.
“And here’s the DNA sample,” she said, handing it over. “Be careful with that. It was a pain in the ass to get it.”
Sofia let out a short, delighted laugh. “I bet it was.” Her gaze lifted, predatory. “Though I admit ... I’m a little envious of Max.”
Catwoman didn’t blink.
Sofia stepped closer, voice dropping low and smoky. “I wonder if you might be persuaded to use your talents on me ... for a reasonable fee, of course.”
Selina crossed her arms, her tone deadpan. “I’m a thief. Not a slut. If I use my talents on you, it’ll only be to rob you blind.”
Sofia’s lashes fluttered as she hummed thoughtfully. “Might be worth it.”
She paced slowly, admiring the stolen biometric treasures glittering in the moonlight, then turned back toward Selina with a pleased smile.
“You did good for me,” Sofia said. “I’m impressed.”
Selina lifted a brow. “Praise is nice.” She leaned forward, smirking with feline sharpness. “But diamonds are better.”
Sofia Falcone paced slowly—deliberately—in front of Catwoman, the way a lioness circles a gazelle she doesn’t intend to kill yet. Every step radiated triumph. Every breath she took seemed steeped in victory.
“Do you know what you just gave me, kitty?” she purred, amusement flickering in her hazel eyes.
Catwoman rolled a shoulder lazily. “Leverage on Shrek. Understandable. He is quite sleazy. Even though the two of you are partners, if I were you, I’d want a little edge on him myself.”
Sofia’s lips curled in a humorless smile. She shook her head slowly, that dark, manic gleam blooming behind her gaze—something hungry and unhinged.
“You didn’t give me leverage,” she said softly. “You gave me the keys to the city.” The words lingered like poison.
“My business is growing,” Sofia continued, pacing again. “It won’t be long before it surpasses my father’s in every way. He knows it. He fears it. So he leaned on Max to raise my prices to absurd levels.” Her tone hardened into ice. “And now? He made an even more desperate move when he tried to have you and Max killed together at the club.”
Selina’s brows twitched beneath her cowl. “Yes. About that. It was rather annoying dodging bullets during what was supposed to be a simple covert op.” Her hands went to her hips. “By any chance, did you find the leak who tipped off Falcone?”
Sofia nodded, her smile sharp and wicked. “Oh, we found him, alright.”
At her signal, a man stepped from the shadows—holding a brown paper bag. Blood dripped steadily from the bottom, pattering onto the steel deck. Selina’s stomach turned. She already knew what was inside. But Sofia grabbed the bag and held it open anyway. The severed head of a young man with a thin mustache stared out at her—eyes rolled back, mouth limp, his skin pale with death.
Catwoman turned away. “I could’ve guessed what was in the bag by the context. You don’t have to parade it around.”
Sofia’s smile dimmed into something colder. “I disagree. Snitches,” she said, voice lilting with malice. “Are the lowest form of life. I want all my associates to know—viscerally—the cost of betrayal.”
She handed the bag back. The thug stumbled, fumbling with the slippery weight before hurrying it back into the dark.
Selina didn’t turn around. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not associates. I’m just hired help ... one who is missing her diamond, by the way.”
Sofia tilted her head thoughtfully. Then she nodded once. A nearby thug stepped forward and opened a briefcase. Selina’s breath caught. There it was. The Blue Panther.
A teardrop cut. Deep cobalt with veins of violet running through its heart. Its surface was polished into flawless facets that refracted every stray light into shimmering waves. It looked almost alive—a sleeping beast carved from the ocean’s darkest depth. Selina’s eyes widened, greed and awe mingling like champagne bubbles.
She reached for it. CLACK! The briefcase slammed shut. Selina jerked her hand back with a flinch. Sofia leaned in. Too close. Her breath brushed Selina’s cheek.
“Before that,” she whispered, voice sliding like oil. “I’d like you to consider a little proposition of mine.”
Selina forced her jaw to stay unclenched. “I’m all ears.”
Outwardly, she was cool as onyx. Inwardly, she was panicking. Damn it, Batman. The one time I need you to crash the party, where are you? If this lunatic guts me, I swear I’ll haunt you.
Sofia circled her again. “I’m looking for a ... partnership,” she murmured. “I will surpass my father. I will own this city. But I want someone to share it with. Someone worthy.”
Her eyes ran down Selina’s exposed form with predatory hunger. “A man won’t do,” Sofia continued. “They’re all too stupid. Too driven by what’s between their legs.”
She lifted a hand and reached toward Selina’s cheek. “I want something softer. Subtler.”
Selina caught her wrist mid-reach, wrenching it away. “I’m flattered, dear. Truly. But I’m nobody’s trophy. Not for any man ... or any woman.”
Sofia’s eyes sharpened dangerously. “I wonder if you’d reconsider that position ... if Batman made a similar offer.”
Catwoman froze. Just for a breath. But Sofia saw it. And smiled threateningly.
“I wanted us to be friends,” Sofia said, stepping back. “But I can’t let someone as dangerous as you walk away unsupervised. Especially given your compromising relationship with Batman.”
The signal was subtle—a tiny tilt of Sofia’s chin—but the response was anything but. Her thugs surged in at once, boots grinding against steel as they closed the circle around Selina. Italian bruisers rolled their shoulders, Triad enforcers snapped open knives with metallic flicks, and Yakuza swordsmen slid short iron blades from their scabbards in whispering arcs. Chains unraveled from thick palms with a low metallic slither, and gun barrels rose beneath the dock lights, cold and certain. The ring tightened around her—muscle, steel, and malice pressing in—no hesitation, no bluff, nothing resembling a warning. It was an execution.
Selina scowled at Sofia. “And what about Shrek’s voice ID and password? You’ll never get those if you kill me now.”
Sofia gave a knowing grin. She took Selina’s flashcard from one of her nearby thugs. Then, triumphantly, she drew out from her pocket another flashcard, almost identical to the first.
“I already have those right here,” she explained, holding up the silvery item. “My hackers took the liberty of stealing the data off your hidden laptop during your little performance.”
Catwoman arched an eyebrow. “Well, looks like you thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“A woman who intends to supplant Carmine Falcone needs to think of everything,” Sofia replied smugly as she pocketed the items. “You should’ve thought things out more carefully yourself.”
Selina sighed, resignation in her voice as she lowered her head. “I really hope you feel guilty about this, Batman.”
BANG—WHUMP! A smoke bomb detonated at the feet of Sofia’s goons, erupting in a violent bloom of thick white fog that swallowed the deck in seconds. The sudden blindness sent the men into a panic—coughing, swearing, colliding with crates as they fired blindly into the haze, muzzle flashes strobing through the smoke like frantic lightning. Chains whipped uselessly at the air, blades slashed at ghosts, and someone screamed as friendly fire found the wrong target.
In the chaos, a strong arm hooked firmly around Selina’s waist—unyielding, unmistakable—and yanked her off her feet, dragging her into the safety of the shadows before a single bullet could find her silhouette.
A familiar voice growled in her ear. “I might feel guilty ... if this whole thing wasn’t your fault to begin with.”
Despite everything—the danger, the near death, the thugs—Selina smiled. “Took you long enough, Bats.”
Sofia staggered through the thick white smoke, coughing so hard her voice cracked. “What the fuck is going on?!” she screamed.
The answer came in the form of a shadow slamming one of her men through a crate. Batman. And beside him, slicing through the fog with feline grace—Catwoman.
Sofia blinked in disbelief. In the span of a heartbeat, the two masked figures were already tearing through her army like they were made of cardboard. Their movements matched with frightening precision: when Batman tackled a Yakuza swordsman, Catwoman swept in low, her leg scissoring beneath another man’s ankles. When Catwoman vaulted onto a crate, whipping a Triad bruiser across the face, Batman was already beneath her, smashing two more thugs into the deck with a brutal double-elbow strike.
They fought like they’d been training together for years. They fought like a storm. Batman caught a hail of gunfire with his reinforced gauntlets, sparks bursting as bullets ricocheted. Catwoman vaulted away from the shots, her body twisting and flipping through the air with superhuman dexterity, her bare legs flashing in the fog as she moved like smoke made flesh.
Sofia’s gaze snapped to Selina—realizing with a spike of rage that she’d been baited. Catwoman saw it. And her eyes narrowed dangerously. She charged.
Sofia yanked out her revolver, firing wildly. Muzzle flashes lit her furious face. But Selina zig-zagged between each shot with inhuman fluidity—leaning, rolling, twisting, her bare skin slipping through the bullets like she was made of water. Sofia spun to run. She wasn’t fast enough. Catwoman flipped, twisting midair, landing directly in front of her with the grace of a falling silk ribbon.
Sofia snarled and jammed the barrel of her gun toward Selina’s temple—but Catwoman caught her wrist mid-motion and twisted. SNAP! Sofia shrieked, dropping to her knees as her gun clattered across the deck. Catwoman rose over her like a descending moon. She lifted one leg high—so high it arched past the line of her own head—her body a perfect, terrifying arc of control and fury.
Sofia glared up at her, teeth bared. “You’re dead, you hear me! You and your boyfriend will be worse than dead when I—”
She never finished. Catwoman’s heel came down like a hammer. CRACK! Sofia fell silent and unconscious. Selina exhaled, a shaky, satisfied breath. Then she turned—and her eyes widened.
Batman was being overwhelmed. Triad kung fu masters and Yakuza karate fighters slammed into him from every angle—elbows to ribs, fists to jaw, kicks to shoulders. Batman fought like an enraged lion, leveling savage blows that sent attackers spinning into crates and railings, their bodies folding under his strength—but the sheer number of combatants pressed him down, relentless as a tide.
Selina lunged, snagging an overhead crane hook with her whip. She swung across the deck, boots slicing the air, and crashed into the cluster of men from above—scattering them like bowling pins.
She hit the ground in a crouch and launched straight into the fray. Her claws danced—crossing faces, arms, chests—leaving sharp but non-fatal cuts. Her legs were a blur of kicks: tornado spins, roundhouse cracks, rapid-fire heels smashing into ribs.
A thick-armed Triad fighter grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. She gagged, clawing at his grip—her fingers rising to his throat instinctively—but stopping just before she tore it open. Instead, she raked his face. He shrieked and dropped her.
Three more surged in at once—karate blows slamming into her ribs, a knee catching her side, a palm-strike snapping her head to the side. She blocked some, absorbed others—but she was getting buried.
Luckily, Batman hit the mob like a wrecking ball. He drove an enforcer into the deck with a judo shoulder throw, flipped a charging Yakuza onto his spine, then fired a pair of compact EMP darts into two Triad men. Electricity crackled through their bodies—they seized, collapsed, twitching but alive.
Catwoman found her second wind. She slashed a chain-wielding thug across the arm, ducked under a blade, then countered with a brutal heel-palm to the jaw. Batman swept three men off their feet with a leg whip and stunned another with a concussive shockwave from a gauntlet. Together, the two of them tore through the last of the fighters, dropping them one by one—broken but breathing.
And then came the blessed silence. Just their breathing. Just their bodies trembling with adrenaline. Just the fog-slick deck littered with groaning bodies.
Catwoman offered Batman a tired, crooked smile. “For a moment there, I thought you weren’t coming. Sofia’s men said you were seen heading west.”
Batman, perfectly composed despite the dozens he’d just fought, replied, “A holographic decoy. Projected from my Bat-drones. I didn’t want them to know I was on my way.”
Selina let out a breathy laugh. “Should’ve figured it was something like that. You’ve got more gadgets than James Bond.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You knew I was tracking you?”
She shrugged, trying to look casual despite the sweat gleaming on her exposed skin. “I had a sneaking suspicion.”
Batman stepped closer. “Why did you lead me here? Were you...” He hesitated—almost uncertain. “Were you trying to help me?”
Selina looked away, fighting the blush threatening to burn through her mask. “I was helping myself. You were right about Sofia. The woman’s a maniac. I needed a little insurance when dealing with her.”
Batman didn’t buy it. Not entirely. “If you were that concerned,” he said quietly. “Why see her at all? Why put yourself in danger like that?”
Selina didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t have one—but because the real answer scared her more than Sofia ever could. She turned away from Batman before he could read anything on her face. The smoke was thinning, revealing unconscious bodies scattered across the deck. Sofia’s men lay sprawled like broken puppets, wrists twisted, weapons kicked far out of reach, their groaning drowned beneath the steady hum of the ship.
Selina crouched beside Sofia’s unconscious body, rifling through the expensive coat with quick, practiced hands. She found everything she needed in seconds—two flashcards labeled with Shrek’s encrypted biometric sets and the small vial holding the DNA sample she’d scraped from her lips. She stood and pressed the items into Batman’s palm.
“There,” she said. “Once you break into Shrek’s mainframe, you’re bound to find something about his partnership with Sofia. You’ll have everything you need to nail them both to the wall.”
Batman didn’t speak. He stared down at the incriminating items as if they were something fragile—something unexpected. Almost as if he couldn’t believe she’d handed them over.
A thought tugged at her. A quieter one. “Before that, though...” she said softly. “There’s something else you should see.”
Without waiting for him to ask, she turned and led him down a narrow steel stairwell. The ship groaned beneath their feet, metal plates bending with the weight of its sins. Selina’s bare boots tapped lightly across the grating as she guided him deep into the bowels of The Scarlet Widow.
The air grew colder. Darker. Tighter. She stopped in front of a massive shipping container she recognized all too well—its serial number burned into her mind from the night Sofia “showed her the merchandise.” She swallowed, her throat going tight.
“This one,” she murmured.
Muffled sobbing leaked through the steel. She gripped the lock and tried to pry it open. Her muscles strained, her breath catching. She managed to bend it—barely—but the door held firm. She groaned in frustration.
Batman stepped beside her and said nothing. He braced one hand against the doorframe, the other on the lock. Metal groaned. Hinges screamed. And then—CRUNCH! The container door ripped open. The stench hit first—sweat, fear, and damp metal. Then the shapes came into focus. Children. Dozens of them. Mostly Hispanic. Dirty, trembling, starved. Some clung to each other in tiny huddles. A few lay still on the ground—unconscious ... or worse.
They recoiled instantly at the towering shadow in the doorway. Batman lowered himself to one knee, making himself small—nonthreatening. His voice softened to something Selina had almost never heard from him.
“Todo está bien,” he said gently. His Spanish was calm, steady, fatherly.
“Ya están a salvo. La policía viene en camino. Van a cuidarlos. Están seguros ahora.”
The children sniffled, looking up at him through wide, wet eyes. Some still shook. But hope flickered there. A tiny candle in a sea of dark. Selina found herself smiling as she stepped back. Watching him with them. Watching the steel-hearted knight kneel in the dark to reassure frightened children. She turned away before he could notice her expression softening.
She figured that after all she’d done tonight—all the danger, all the risk—she’d earned at least a small reward. And there was a certain reward calling her name on the main deck. She padded back up the stairs, passing Sofia, passed-out goons, shattered crates, and scattered weapons. She spotted the thug who’d carried the briefcase with the Blue Panther diamond. He was sprawled face-first near a crate, his grip loosening around the silver handle. She reached for it. THUD! Batman’s boot slammed onto the briefcase, pinning it to the deck.
Selina startled, then let out a tiny laugh. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Batman stared at her—not judging, not angry. Just ... watchful. He bent down, picked up the briefcase, and popped it open enough to peer inside. The blue glow lit the lower half of his cowl.
“You could just look the other way,” Selina said coyly, slipping closer. “I did help you out this time, after all.”
Batman sighed, weary. Almost tired. “I let you walk away with Falcone’s diamonds last time. I can’t be so lenient again, or it might become a habit.” He gestured to the case. “This jewel is the official property of the U.S. government. The Falcones stole it years ago. I’m going to send it back to where it belongs.”
Catwoman scoffed. “Wherever they put it—some museum or government vault—it won’t be enough to keep me from stealing it again later.”
Batman shrugged as he shut the case. “Perhaps. But that’s not my concern at present.”
They stood there for a moment—two silhouettes staring at each other under the glow of the moon. The ship groaned. Distant sirens wailed across the water.
“The police are on their way, I take it,” Selina said quietly.
Batman nodded. “To arrest Sofia and tend to the children.”
Selina took a slow step backward. “Then that’s my cue to go ... unless you mean to arrest me, too. You did say you might if I annoyed you too much.”
He didn’t answer. So she turned to leave. But before she could jump to the railing, a gloved hand closed gently around her arm. Not forceful. Not angry. Just ... stopping her.
“Can you tell me something before you leave?” Batman asked quietly.
Her pulse quickened at the nearness of him. “Shoot.”
“Why ... why don’t you ever kill?”
She blinked. Taken aback. Then, slowly, she smiled. “I’m a thief,” she said simply. “Not a killer. It’s not a job requirement.”
“But in your line of work,” Batman pressed. “It might make things easier to kill sometimes. Especially in situations like this when your life is at risk.”
Selina looked down. She was definitely blushing now and cursing herself for it. “There’s enough killing in the world as it is. Especially in Gotham. I’m just trying to get by as best I can. I’m no saint. But at least I won’t have any ghosts hanging over me.”
Batman studied her for a long moment. “That’s ... noble of you,” he said softly.
Her eyes flicked up. Something shifted between them—something electric and delicate and dangerous. As if pulled by invisible threads, she leaned up toward him. And he leaned down toward her. Their lips brushed—barely—just a whisper of contact, a spark that made her breath catch.
Selina inhaled, ready to take him deeper—but he suddenly pulled back. Just an inch. But to her, it felt like a chasm. He almost looked ... frightened.
“You need to clear out of here,” he said, voice rougher than before. “It’d be better if the police didn’t see you.”
A flicker of disappointment flared through her chest—but she masked it with a soft, amused smile. “See you later, Dark Knight.”
With a flick of her wrist, her whip snapped around a crane arm. She swung off the side of the freighter and vanished into the night—leaving Batman standing alone beneath the moonlight, watching her silhouette disappear across the rooftops. Watching her go. And perhaps ... wishing he didn’t have to.
The Batcave – Later That Night
The great black shape of the Batmobile roared down the access ramp, its engines echoing through the cavern like the growl of some mechanical beast returning to its lair. Sparks from the braking turbines flickered off the stalactites overhead, and the cave’s scattered floodlights reflected in wet stone as the vehicle skidded smoothly into its designated platform. The canopy hissed open.