Batman Legacy: Book One
Copyright© 2025 by Uruks
Chapter 4: Night of the Bat
Gotham Botanical Conservatory – Night
The gala at the Gotham Botanical Conservatory was as decadent as ever—champagne fountains, moonlight through stained glass, and every politician in the city pretending not to know each other’s secrets.
Bruce Wayne moved through the crowd like a ghost in a tux. He recognized half the people here: CEOs, city councilmen, socialites, sharks in pearls. He nodded politely, smiled with precision, but he didn’t stop. He wasn’t here to make small talk.
He was here because this was the cage Gotham’s elite built around itself—and he wanted to see who held the keys. Thankfully, the Wayne name still carried enough weight to open doors, though not all welcomed it. Harvey Dent did.
Bruce did his bit, enduring useless mingling and making up some story about studying at colleges abroad to explain away his six-year disappearance. He played the part of the foppish playboy and most people didn’t give him so much as a second glance. Being shallow was easy – he’d grown up with all the elites of Gotham to serve as his teachers. When he could no longer stand all the handshakes, small talk, and laughing at stupid jokes, he stepped out onto the balcony for air, scanning the skyline.
“Thought I’d find you lurking in the dark,” came a familiar voice behind him.
Harvey had grown into his jawline—sharp suit, confident smile, ambition smoldering just beneath the surface. He was District Attorney now. Gotham’s “White Knight.”
“Two years since the grand return, huh, Bruce,” Harvey said, raising his glass. “I’d say you chose the right time to stick around. We’re cleaning this place up—one bastard at a time.”
Bruce smirked. “Still the idealist.”
“Still the cynic,” Harvey shot back, laughing.
Harvey strode over with two drinks in hand, sharp as ever in a navy tux. His smile was real, but his eyes were tired.
Bruce accepted the drink as they clinked glasses.
“By the way, Bruce. I was wondering if you’re serious about meeting that reporter I told you about, Vickie Veil,” said Harvey, his familial concern almost a match for Alfred’s. “Last time I talked with her, she definitely seemed interested. I know you probably don’t like the idea of dating someone from the press, but honestly, the girl’s a bombshell. And as far as I can tell, she’s legit, at least for a journalist. I’d think about making a pass at her myself if I wasn’t currently spoken for.”
Bruce arched a brow, a teasing glint in his eye. “I haven’t had much time for catcalls lately, but now that you bring it up, I am curious about your new girlfriend. What’s her name again?”
Harvey’s grin softened into something more helpless, like he’d willingly fallen into a trap. “Selina Kyle. She’s ... well, it’s hard to put into words. You’d have to meet her first.”
Before Bruce could reply, the atmosphere changed. He felt it before he saw her. A scent—faint jasmine, heat, and something metallic. Then a presence—light footsteps, not timid, but measured. Someone used to being watched.
Selina Kyle stepped onto the balcony like the city had opened the door just for her.
She was tall—elegantly so—with the posture of a queen and the sway of a thief. Her black gown clung to her like a whispered secret. The fabric shimmered subtly when she moved, catching the moonlight in all the right places. Her curves were full, deliberate, a body sculpted for both attention and agility. Her proportions struck a dangerous balance—slim waist, the sweep of full hips, and a proud, flawless chest above, the daring neckline of her gown framing the cleavage like a challenge.
Short dark hair framed her pale face in clean lines, angular and arresting. But it was her eyes—icy blue and unblinking—that held Bruce’s gaze. They didn’t just look at you. They read you.
“Harvey,” she purred, curling her arm through his. “You’re neglecting your date.”
Harvey chuckled, oblivious to the sudden shift in temperature. “Selina, this is—”
“Bruce Wayne,” she said before he could finish. Her smile curled like smoke. “Back from the dead.”
Bruce stepped forward and took her hand. Her fingers were soft, but her grip held power. Purpose.
“Miss Kyle,” he said. “I’ve heard things.”
“Most of them true,” she said. “The rest are probably just boring.”
Their hands lingered a beat too long.
Selina turned her head slightly, keeping her eyes on Bruce. “You move differently than you used to.”
“You watched me?” he asked.
“I watch everyone,” she replied. “But I only pay attention to the interesting ones.”
Before Bruce could respond, the door behind them opened again. Rachel Dawes stepped into the moonlight.
She wore a sleek, crimson gown—elegant but modest, practical. Her hair was pulled back, her earrings understated. She was all strength and simplicity—a contrast to Selina’s deliberate decadence.
Rachel’s eyes moved instantly to Bruce. Selina noticed.
Harvey smiled, oblivious. “Rachel! I was just telling Bruce about the DA’s latest headaches.”
“I’m sure,” Rachel said, eyes flicking between Bruce and Selina. “And who’s this?”
“Selina Kyle,” Selina said, offering her hand before Harvey could. “Investor. Philanthropist. Complicated woman.”
Rachel took it, cool and brief. “Rachel Dawes. ADA.”
“Ah. So you’re the other woman in Harvey’s life.”
Rachel shook her head and chuckled. “You don’t have to be worried about me, Selina. Harvey and I are just old friends.”
Selina’s eyes twinkled mirthfully. “Well, then. If things are that friendly, maybe you and I can swap boytoys some time. I’ll let you have Harvey for a bit if you give me a shot at dear Bruce here.”
Bruce blinked. “Excuse me?”
Harvey just cleared his throat, looking embarrassed.
Rachel arched a brow. “That’s cute.”
Selina tilted her head. “I try to be.”
“And as fun as that sounds, it wouldn’t work anyway,” said Rachel, somewhere between annoyed and bemusement. “Bruce and I aren’t dating. I consider him a friend like Harvey.”
Selina gave a knowing smile. “Your eyes on him say otherwise.”
Everyone’s eyes widened.
Selina laughed as she took a drink. “Please, ignore me. I tend to say edgy things after a few drinks. I hope everyone can forgive me.”
Harvey chuckled uncomfortably. “You sure know how to bring the house down, Selina.”
She leaned into him, kissing his cheek warmly—though her eyes flashed teasingly to Bruce for a split second. “You know I just like to keep things interesting.”
Harvey was putty in Selina’s hands judging by the goofy grin he gave her.
Selina aimed an apologetic look towards Rachel. “I hope you won’t hold my teasing against me, dear. Trust me, I mean no harm.”
Rachel sighed tiredly. “No harm, no foul.”
They exchanged smiles that weren’t really smiles.
Bruce took a sip of his drink, grinning slightly. “Well. This isn’t awkward at all.”
Harvey laughed. “Relax. We’re all on the same side.”
Rachel seemed to be trying to avoid Bruce’s gaze. Selina’s smile deepened.
Bruce could feel it—two storms circling in the same sky. Rachel’s quiet fire. Selina’s teasing. And him caught in the middle. He didn’t hate it.
He looked at Selina one more time before she turned back to Harvey, and whispered something in his ear. Harvey laughed. Rachel rolled her eyes and took Bruce’s arm, steering him back inside.
As they passed through the doorway, Selina glanced over her shoulder at Bruce. She didn’t wink. She didn’t speak. She just looked—and for a moment, Bruce felt like she saw him far too clearly.
The Gotham Botanical Conservatory was a jewel of glass and steel, its vaulted dome glittering with chandeliers and reflected starlight. Exotic blooms filled the air with fragrance—orchids, night lilies, pale roses—while a live quartet played low and sultry near the dance floor. The gala was alive with chatter, laughter, and the delicate clink of champagne flutes, but Bruce Wayne had his focus fixed on the green felt of a poker table tucked into one corner of the room.
Across from him sat Rachel Dawes. She was striking in her own way—not ostentatious, but composed. Her long brown hair framed a face equal parts kindness and resolve, and her warm brown eyes gave away little as she studied her cards. The red dress she wore was pragmatic in its cut yet undeniably elegant, striking a balance that suited her perfectly: appealing, professional, utterly self-assured.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable, his short black hair catching the light like polished obsidian. The tuxedo framed his athletic build with tailored precision, but it was his eyes—those deep, enigmatic blue eyes—that held the real gravity.
They lent him an air of mystery, a sense of distance, as though he were standing just beyond everyone’s reach. Untouchable. Enticing.
Rachel matched his gaze across the table, lips curling faintly in challenge as she placed another chip on the pile. “You’re bluffing,” she said, voice soft but certain.
Bruce’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, but he didn’t answer.
Behind them, laughter rippled across the marble floor where couples spun to the music. Harvey Dent was among them, towering above most of the other men on the floor, his sandy-blonde hair a shade lighter than the black bowtie at his throat. His features were strong and symmetrical, his brown eyes bright with a warmth that drew people in easily. He carried himself with athletic grace, shoulders squared and posture impeccable, but where Bruce was all mystery and reserve, Harvey was open, charismatic, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. And right now, that heart was hopelessly in Selina Kyle’s hands.
Selina moved like a dark flame through the crowd. Every eye followed her, and she knew it. Her raven-black hair was cut short in a sleek, sharp style that framed her pale, porcelain face. The black gown she wore was scandalously daring—its lines so revealing it bordered on indecent, clinging to her athletic, voluptuous frame with deliberate precision. Long legs gleamed in the shifting light as she danced, her every motion an assertion of ownership over the room.
Men stared openly, women more discreetly, but the effect was the same: arousal tangled with envy, admiration soured by hostility. Selina basked in it, relished it, as though the simmering tension were a perfume made for her alone. She glowed in their attention, in their jealousy, in the helpless way Harvey Dent gazed at her like a man utterly ensnared. His goofy, lovesick grin was proof enough—he never stood a chance.
Even Bruce felt it. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he couldn’t deny the pull. Something about her—the way she carried herself, the dangerous curve of her smile, the sheer audacity in the cut of her dress—demanded attention. And yet Bruce knew that wasn’t it. It wasn’t just confidence. It wasn’t just beauty. There was something more, something hidden, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He shook his head slightly, dispelling the thought, and turned his attention back to Rachel, who was still watching him with patient amusement.
“You going to play,” she asked, one brow arched. “Or are you too busy staring at my competition for attention?”
Bruce smirked faintly, finally glancing down at his cards. “I’ll play. My losing streak is bound to turn around at some point.”
Bruce studied his cards in silence, though his attention kept wandering past the green felt. On the dance floor, Harvey was twirling Selina effortlessly, his hair catching the chandelier light.
He daringly brushed a hand over her bare shoulders as she laughed, leaning into his chest. Bruce’s brow went up just a hint, lips tugging faintly as he leaned toward Rachel.
“What do you think?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “Will she be good for him?”
Rachel arched a brow, following his gaze toward the pair. Her reply came slowly, almost measured, but with a sharpness Bruce couldn’t miss. “Who’s to say. I can’t very well make a good judgement on the woman after only just meeting her. But given her reputation, I’d wager that Selina Kyle will always be good for Selina Kyle.”
There was a note of bitterness tucked inside the words, a trace of the sting hidden just below the surface. Bruce caught it.
“You’re still smarting from the way she teased you, huh?”
There was a slightly dangerous glint in Rachel’s eyes as they flicked between him and her cards. Her voice was controlled as she replied, “Wouldn’t you be smarting if someone wrongfully implied that you had a crush when you don’t?”
Bruce let the corner of his mouth curl in amusement. “Well,” he said, tone light. “I don’t know if I’d care all that much. But even if it is true, who could blame you if you did?”
Rachel’s glare was immediate, her brown eyes flashing as she shifted in her chair. A second later, Bruce felt a sharp jab to his shin beneath the table. He winced, stifling a chuckle, and grinned despite himself.
“You’re terrible,” Rachel muttered, looking down at her cards with exaggerated focus.
His grin faded, replaced by something quieter, more sincere. “I never told you what it meant to me, two years ago,” he said, voice dropping into a low register. “Coming back to Gotham. Seeing you and Harvey again.”
Rachel’s expression softened. She set her cards down, not quite meeting his eyes, but her tone lost its edge. “If Zatanna were here, we’d have the whole gang back together.” She gave a faint smirk. “Now that one really did have a crush on you. And she wasn’t shy about it before she left.”
Bruce’s eyes lit with genuine fondness at the memory. “One of the high points of my childhood was her bird pooping on her head during a magic trick.”
Rachel pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. “You really are terrible,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
Bruce leaned back, satisfied, only to see Rachel’s expression shift into something mischievous. She spread her cards across the felt with a flourish. “And distracting me won’t work, because I think I’ve got you this time.”
Bruce glanced down at her hand, then at his own, and sighed good-naturedly. “You do.”
Rachel preened, her smile smug as she pulled the pile of chips toward her side of the table.
Rachel was gathering her winnings from the last round when movement on the dance floor caught Bruce’s eye. Selina, radiant as ever, had spotted them. Her smile sharpened. With Harvey in tow, she glided over to the table, mischief practically radiating from her like perfume.
“Well,” Selina purred, looping her arm through Harvey’s. “What’s a game without a little company? Surely you two don’t mind if we join?”
Rachel’s shoulders stiffened. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then forced a polite smile. “Of course not,” she said, though the sigh beneath her words wasn’t lost on Bruce.
Harvey clapped Bruce warmly on the back before sitting down, grinning ear to ear. “Hope you saved me some chips,” he joked. “But it’s okay if you didn’t, because I’m gonna get ‘em either way.”
His easy charm coaxed laughter from both women, smoothing over the tension Rachel was trying so hard to bury. Selina settled in close beside him, fingers brushing his sleeve, her voice soft with adoration. Harvey drank it up like sunlight, basking in every glance, every word.
But Bruce noticed the flick of Selina’s eyes, the way they strayed now and again from Harvey to him. It wasn’t overt—just the quiet weight of assessment. And when he met her gaze across the table, she didn’t look away.
The game resumed with renewed energy. Harvey’s jokes had the women laughing, Rachel’s competitive streak flared brighter, but it was Selina who dominated. Hand after hand, she raked in chips with a coy smile, laughing off her victories with modesty that rang just a shade hollow. Bruce saw the glint behind it, though—the edge of challenge sharpened in every flick of her gaze toward him, hidden from the others.
Harvey shook his head in defeat. “You are unnaturally good at this. Fess up—you count the cards, don’t you?”
Selina waved off Harvey’s jests with a delicate hand, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, please, Harv. I just had a few good hands. You make it sound like I’m some dastardly mastermind. What’s there to suspect about little ol’ me?”
Once again, her bright blue eyes briefly flashed to Bruce, as if subtly mocking him. Something stirred in him then, something he didn’t bother to name. He’d let Rachel win before, happy to see her preen, but with Selina ... no. With Selina, he felt no need to hold back.
The final hand was his. He played it clean, decisive, and when he laid his cards on the table, the result was undeniable. Rachel let out a theatrical groan, Harvey slapped the table in mock despair, both conceding with laughter and good sportsmanship.
Selina did not laugh. Her smile deepened instead, slow and deliberate, her eyes narrowing just slightly as they lingered on Bruce. “Well, well,” she said quietly, her voice meant for him more than the others. “Maybe you’ve been taking us all in, Bruce. I know a card shark when I see one.”
Bruce shrugged, cool and unbothered. “Just got lucky this time,” he said dismissively.
Selina chuckled softly, the sound rich and knowing. “Maybe so.”
As the last of the chips were gathered, Harvey leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie as he launched into talk of a case he and Rachel were both circling in the DA’s office.
His voice animated, hers razor sharp, they volleyed legal jargon across the table like tennis pros—arguments, counterpoints, statutes, precedents. Drug dealers. Domestic abusers. The ugly machinery of Gotham’s justice system laid bare in their easy exchange.
“You see, the trick is getting Judge Hall to actually admit half that evidence,” he said, shaking his head. “Guy folds faster than a house of cards if you press him on constitutional overreach.”
Rachel arched a brow, her voice sharp. “Or he folds because you badger him into submission, Harvey. There’s a difference.”
Harvey grinned, unbothered. “What can I say? Persuasion’s part of the job.”
“Justice is supposed to be part of the job,” Rachel countered, dealing the words like a card across the table. “Some of these men aren’t just pushing drugs—they’re beating the women who live with them. That doesn’t get lost in the paperwork on my watch.”
Harvey finally lifted his hands in surrender. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Rachel Dawes scares the hell out of every defense attorney in Gotham.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth betrayed the ghost of a smile. “Only because I know my boss has my back.”
Bruce watched with a faint grin. Harvey’s passion was infectious; Rachel’s precision, unstoppable. Together, they were formidable. Gotham didn’t know how lucky it was to have them. From the corner of his eye, he thought he caught Selina also looking at Harvey, her smile not the usual mix of seduction. Something warm. Something ... proud.
After a few minutes, Rachel checked her watch, sighing. “I should go. Still a few details to tighten up at the office before morning.” She pushed back her chair, gathering her coat with practiced efficiency.
Selina rose as well, brushing a lock of raven hair from her face. “Then I suppose I should let this one get back to his crusade against cocktail shrimp,” she teased, tapping Harvey on the chest.
Before he could reply, she pulled him into a kiss—long, slow, and provocative enough to draw a low whistle from someone across the room. Harvey froze for a moment, then melted into it, breath stolen clean away.
When Selina finally drew back, Harvey was still grinning like a schoolboy. But as her lips parted from his, her eyes—just for the briefest heartbeat—flicked toward Bruce. A private glance, sharp as a dagger, fleeting as smoke. A challenge? An invitation? Bruce couldn’t tell.
Rachel caught the tail end of it and rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she slipped into her coat. Bruce didn’t need to hear the words to know the sentiment.
Selina, of course, noticed. She strolled beside Rachel on the way out, audaciously slinging an arm across her shoulders as though they were old friends. “This was fun,” she said brightly, her tone laced with mischief. “We really must do it again sometime.”
Rachel’s polite smile was stretched thin, her voice curt as she replied, “Yes. Sometime.”
Selina’s laughter trailed behind them as they disappeared into the night, leaving Bruce and Harvey in their wake—the echo of the poker game lingering like smoke over the table.
The music had quieted. Waiters in black vests circled with champagne flutes and silver trays, but the energy in the room had shifted since Selina Kyle’s exit. Rachel’s absence was also felt, her quiet authority and warmth sitting in the back of Bruce’s mind. Bruce stood with Harvey Dent near the long stretch of balcony overlooking the Gotham skyline, both men nursing half-drained glasses.
“So, about Selina. You look like you’re serious this time,” observed Bruce.
Harvey shook his head hopelessly. “She’s different from the other girls, Bruce. More interesting, more mysterious. And way sexier. I think I want this one to last ... maybe more than just last.”
“I’ll bet,” said Bruce with a nod. “But you better watch yourself. Selina seems like the kind of woman who’ll keep you on your toes.”
Harvey cracked his neck, trying to loosen the tension. “It’s mostly casual for now, but it has room to grow. I’m not saying she’s not trouble. I’m saying she might be my kind of trouble.”
Bruce allowed the faintest hint of a smirk. “You’d do well to keep both eyes open.”
Harvey chuckles. “Trust me, Bruce. It’s easy to keep both eyes on Selina with her looks.”