16314/Curiosity Killed the Cat Or the Bat

Curiosity Killed the Cat Or the Bat
Date of Scene:	28 May 2024
Location:	Abandoned Warehouse, West Side, Burnley
Synopsis:	Selina has been up to no good. Yet, Cassandra doesn't know that and thus offers the olive branch. Silly, Batgirl, Gems are for Cats.
Cast of Characters:	Catwoman, Batgirl (Cain)

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Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman perches on the edge of the rooftop of one of Gotham's many abandoned warehouses, the city's hum a constant backdrop -- traffic, sirens, the occasional distant scream. She leans back against a rusted ventilation shaft, one hand pressing against her side and, for now, covering a decent-sized gash in her catsuit (and her skin, for that matter, though at least that much has been sutured closed). The moonlight bathes her in a silvery glow, catching the little shift of her hair and highlighting the grimace she can't quite suppress.

The rooftop is a familiar refuge, a place where she can be alone with her thoughts and the throbbing pain that echoes with each heartbeat. With her other hand, her fingers brush against the weight of the sapphire in a pocket of her belt -- a tangible reminder of the chaos she'd just lived through.

Closing her eyes, she takes a slow, deliberate breath to steady herself as below, Gotham's streets pulse with life, unaware of the quiet struggle above. This would be done soon. Then she could go home, rest, tend to her wound, repair her suit, and... maybe... take another break from thieving.

Depending on how much she could get for the sapphire.

But for now, she waits, a thief nursing her wounds in solitude.

Batgirl (Cain) has posed:
Patrol. It was the only thing that Batgirl really knew. Unlike most of the other Bat crew who had normal lives of some sort outside the suit, this was when Cassandra Cain was at her best and happiest. She wasn't one to go with the others to have noodles at their favorite Chinese place, which they had sort of developed as a thing for a while in the past for some of them. Dick, Tim, Barbara and even Damian had things to do when they were off duty.

Cassandra simply was never off duty. Even when she wasn't out patroling the rooftops, she was training. Hard. Perhaps on par with Bruce himself. Or perhaps even a bit more obessesively since he had to go play his rich playboy role to keep up appearances.

She would never understand all of that. Playing roles. People pretending to be what they were not. It was something she understood the necessity of for the safety of those that they cared about. Yet, at the same time, it was so glaringly false to her enhanced understanding of movement that it just seemed they were silly. Though, to people that were normal, they all played their roles perfectly, didn't seem to be charicatures in those times. It made it hard for Cassandra and thus easier to still keep herself somewhat apart.

Or maybe that was still damage to her psyche since trust was difficult. She knew they had her back, as the saying went. Knew they would always be there for her. Yet somewhere deep inside, that fear manifested by keeping them at arm's length even as they were the only people that really knew her at all.

To say she was messed up was an understatement. Thus, there was the work. Something for her to focus on. Devote all her senses to. Not dwell on her thoughts and worries.

There. A tiny bit of movement caught her eye. She turned her head that direction just as the moon disappeared behind another cloud. Was that a person she had seen for the briefest of moments? Best to be sure. She tapped her earpiece twice, letting the team know she was checking something. Oracle always had her GPS location from her suit and helmet so they would know where she was if she didn't give them an update in the next ten minutes. They were a well drilled team and this was just the tiniest part of that.

With that PFFT of displaced air, she fired a grapple line to the next rooftop even as she was already leaping off the roof she had occupied. Free falling toward the ground, something that would be terrifying to most, then that catch of the jerk of her motion being stopped and changed into an arc over to the other roof.

She landed on the edge of the roof, scanning the area a moment to see if she was imagining things or if there was someone there.

Catwoman has posed:
Nothing.

Not so much as a stirring of debris. Not an empty soda can from someone who had camped out on this roof before. Not a candy bar wrapper. Not even a bird that takes flight when Cassandra lands.

There was nothing on the ledge except, perhaps, a trick of the light. The moon passing between clouds. A shadow. A glint of metal. Certainly not a person.

It's hard to sneak up on Catwoman when she's not otherwise occupied with a dozen other things at the same time. It's especially hard when she's already expecting someone's arrival.

But her fence didn't use grappling hooks. And that *pfft-chink* is hard to miss when you're paying such close attention to every rustle, every stir, every car door. Waiting. Waiting for footsteps or even the sound of someone breathing, coming up behind you.

She'd planned to drop down and meet him. But things don't always go as planned.

Obviously.

By the time Cassandra had made it to where she'd been, she'd found a new home in the shadows between some equipment, tucked out of sight.

She hadn't seen which one of them it was, but it didn't sound like Bruce 's landing. She knew the rustle of his cape, the thud of his boots... the weight of him. The heat of him.

But she couldn't deal with Bruce right now. So at least the universe gave her that much. He'd have heard about the sapphire being stolen. The explosion outside the auction house. He'd have seen the pictures in the media of her carrying a child against her chest, running. Flying. Sprawled. Bleeding. Leaving the child, safe, and running again.

Maybe the others weren't so addicted to their computer, but she didn't really need interference from any of them, right now. She just wanted to get rid of the sapphire and be done.

But she was a long way from being done, even if she did manage to fence it.

That gash in her side was a liability she had to heal, because if she didn't, she was likely to get herself into trouble with someone much worse than a bat.

Because even now, as she crouches in the shadows, she twists the wrong way and sucks in a pained breath through her teeth -- a sharp hiss that breaks the quiet of the night as obviously bomb at a dinner party.

Crap.

Batgirl (Cain) has posed:
The snap of Batgirl's head turning her direction is followed by the woman going into motion just as quickly. No hestitation, no pausing. One might think that was stupid but they would be wrong. Cassandra needed eyes on her target. It helped her. Because she would be able to read everything they were about to do before they even fully realized it mentally was their next step. It was terrifying to those she fought because she knew what they would do before they threw a punch. More terrifying is she was one of the more skilled hand-to-hand combatants on the planet. Batman could match her. Nightwing on his best day could give her a good workout. Perhaps Damian as he had been raised much like she had though not precisely. He was raised fighting from the moment he could walk though. Of course, his morality wasn't the same as Cassandra's either. Or hadn't been. She wasn't so certain where he stood these days as she didn't work with him often. In truth, she tended to prefer to be on her own.

She was often the bullet fired from the gun that was the Bat Crew operations. Need a gang of Yakuza taken down? No need to send them all. Batgirl would take them all out and, sadly, enjoy it. For this was her world. This world of violence and shadows, pain and darkness. It is what she reveled in, though she did not let the others know.

But never death. Never again.

Of course, one could hurt someone in ways they wished they were dead. And that was her gift.

She found herself crouched on an HVAC unit then hesitated upon what she saw. Because Catwoman was one of those special cases. She wasn't exactly someone that needed to be immediatly cuffed and turned over to GCPD. But at the same time, she wasn't to be fully trusted as she did blur those lines between legality and non at times. Mentally says the vigilante so who is she to judge?

She looked over the woman without saying a word, the lower half of her mask hiding her mouth that indicator that this was the member of the Bat Crew who was not one to get lost in conversation. If one wanted to talk, they could talk to Barbara when she was in her original Batgirl gear. Or maybe Dick. He was personable. Tim too. Damian? Not so much. And Jason needed a mask like hers because he probably shouldn't talk to people in her experience. He did not convince people to open up, but instead forced answers. She could respect that.

To ask her question, she simply reached up to tap the side of her cowl at ear level three times. Then she lowered her hand and tilted her head to the side, the question to Catwoman in the expression without a single word being spoken.

Catwoman has posed:
"Ngh."

The sound is almost sensual, the way it leaves Selina's throat -- almost. Those vivid green eyes glint in the dim moonlight as she looks up at the perched figure, her mask raised to show her face. It perches on the top of her hair, accentuating her cat ears.

After all, it wasn't as if she needed to hide her identity.

Just the jewel in her pocket.

"A good deed never goes unpunished," Selina purrs, her smile thin. She shifts, then, to stand -- her movements aren't necessarily slow, but they're deliberate. Partially because she _hurt_. Partially because there was no sense in being perceived as any sort of threat, since she wasn't. Especially in this condition.

That hand is still on her side, but it moves to show the sliced-open suit and a sleek black bandage underneath. There was just a little red around the edges -- fresh blood from stitches she'd ripped open. It wasn't pretty, but it wouldn't be obvious when she met with her fence, either. Not to some low-life. Not unless she called attention to it.

"I think it cost me one of my nine lives, this time. Sometimes I think should convince Bruce to make me an..."

Her eyes skim down Cassandra's form, taking in the whole outfit before looking back up to meet her gaze. It was a little unnerving, the bottom half of the mask being closed. She liked Bruce's mask better. Then again, she liked a lot about Bruce. Too bad it came at such a price.

"...upgrade."

She and Bruce were on-again-off-again. Presently, they were off, but 'convincing him' sounded very much like she was considering being on again.

"Then again... the last thing I need is him worrying. He gets so... protective." Overbearing. Suffocating. Judgemental. "Will you be a dear and keep this between us girls?"

Batgirl (Cain) has posed:
To make her a what? Cassandra was frowning behind her mask, something obvious even with the material that covered the lower part of her face. When Catwoman finished what she was saying, there was a moment of surprise on the face of the vigilante then the mask went back to just that. The neutrality of no emotions.

As Catwoman outlined what she thought of Batman, Cassandra was evaluating her movements, her wound, the damage to her costume. Unblinking eyes, no expression. The only sound that of Selina's voice and perhaps the wind rustling Batgirl's cape a bit. Then a shrug. Which was a lot for Cassandra because generally she didn't waste movement. To opt to even give that shrug was a mountain climbed. Though whether it was at keeping this between them or her getting an upgrade on her costume? Selina could only guess.

Then just as suddenly as she had appeared on the HVAC, she was moving off it and toward Catwoman's side. No threat in her movements but just the suddenness might surprise some people. Course, Catwoman had been around them all in the past at least to some level so she probably was immune.

She reached out a hand to motion to the side then looked to Selina's face. "Home. Rest." She reached into one of the many compartments on her utility belt and pulled out a small bottle with some pills in it. "One every 12 hours. For pain." Which might make one wonder how often she might've needed those. Though the truth was they always got packed on her belt but she never used them herself. It would make her sleepy. And she didn't ever like having a lack of control of her physical being in any way.

This was probably the most words that Selina ever heard out of her too.

Catwoman has posed:
Selina wasn't on Cass's level when it came to 'reading people.'

In fact, she wasn't sure who, if anyone, might be on Cass's level in that regard -- at least, from what she'd gathered. But Catwoman wasn't a simpleton where it came to reading people, either.

All part of the job, and her job -- for the most part -- was manipulating people. Whether it was tricking them into divulging the location of their jewels or convincing them to donate to one of her charitable causes, people were, by and large, more often her target than the jewels she stole.

It just so happens that she actually got hurt doing a good deed, this time.

The rest of that night didn't really need to be brought into it.

Still, it's amusing to watch Batgirl's reactions to her -- the surprise, the shrug. She didn't know Cass well at all. The girl was at best aloof and at worst a liability. Selina didn't need someone like Cass watching every movement, every facial tick, every eye shift. Selina never _actually_ intended to take advantage of Bruce. Her intentions, by and large, had always been plain... at least to the Batfam. She'd call a truce with Bruce while they were together, stop stealing, focus on her charitable endeavors and even suit up to help every once in a while.

But it never lasted. As much as she loved Bruce, she couldn't live under his thumb. Eventually, it always chaffed, and she went back out on her own.

As fickle as a cat, this one. One minute she wants in your lap. The next nothing to do with you.

Her eyes follow Cass's movements, but she doesn't shy away. Not even when that hand comes up to motion -- to indicate her bandage.

"I know," she sighs. It's such a frustrated sound, like it pained her even more than the wound itself to admit that she _needed_ to rest. But it's the next thing -- the production of the pill bottle -- that catches her the most by surprise. Her eyebrows lift, ever so slightly, shock mingling with appreciation, as if to ask 'Really?'

"Thanks."

It's a soft word, barely an utterance, but her lips twist at one corner as she reaches out to take them, the little grin showing genuine affection.

Not so much that there was any risk of her trying to pull Batgirl into some kind of familial hug.

But it's there, nonetheless.

"Yeah, I... I think it's time I called it a night."

After all, she could fence the stone later. Now was _not_ the time to press the issue.

She pops the pill bottle open and goes ahead and takes one, tucking the rest into her own belt pouches. Maybe it's a sign of trust -- of honest gratitude, to show that she wasn't just going to toss them in a drawer. Maybe she _really_ needed it. Either way, she starts to walk away, but after a few steps, she looks back over her shoulder.

"Everything okay? Back... you know."

She nods her head a little to the side. She means Bruce. But, with that affection still lingering in her eyes, she means more than just that.

Maybe she even misses it a little.

Maybe.

Batgirl (Cain) has posed:
She was glowing like a neon sign. That little bit shown gave all the information Cassandra needed to know what she meant. Yet, to anyone else, she was subdued. Perhaps that hint in her eyes as she thought of Bruce.

It was always strange for Cassandra. She didn't understand relationships. How people could be together and love one another yet not share the truth at all times.But where she could see that the man might be lying when he said the dress didn't make his wife look fat, the wife couldn't and believed him. Yet Cassandra could see through them all.

And there were those moments. Everyone had them. Where even with someone they loved, there was that moment of anger. Or frustration. Even disgust. It was fleeting. A thought that passed through a mind only to be dismissed because the person realized they were overreacting or the positives outweighed the negative. But for Cassandra, such a moment with someone was like them punching her in the gut.

She'd rather be punched.

"Same." She wasn't sure how else to express it. Not a lot changed in the crew. They all lived and worked and survived and fought. Cassandra often stayed on the edge of lives instead of being part of them as much as the others. Yet, she saw it all. "Visit." An invitation given in the only way she knew how, simple and blunt.

Then she turned to walk back to the roof edge where she had originally landed, reaching to the back of her belt for another grapple.

Catwoman has posed:
Sometimes, invitations are as thin and meaningless as coupons advertising one-dollar-off on a new car -- superficial advertisements meant to flaunt wealth or status, or perhaps even gain favor.

But Cass has spoken perhaps less than a dozen words to Selina since the two have known each other. And when one of them is 'visit,' it means something substantially different than an invitation to some rich playboy's drunk-fest pool party.

It means that it's sincere.

And, just in that moment, the sapphire in Selina's pocket weight eight tons.

'Visit.'

It was the first time she'd ever connected with Cass on any level, however brief this rooftop encounter had been. Even when she was staying in the mansion, they'd barely spoken.

But the sadness that clouds Catwoman's eyes in that instant is like a storm. It was still new, but the report that the sapphire had been stolen would spread eventually, and the evidence (however circumstantial) that Catwoman was involved was as clear as the video of the explosion.

"Thank you."

Not a promise, but then, she knew Cass wouldn't need one -- it was an invitation, not request.

Just for a moment, she almost wished she could put the sapphire back where she'd found it, to avoid tainting the sincerity of this moment. To avoid Cass looking back and realizing that Selina had been standing there with the sapphire in her pocket the whole time, however altruistic she might have been when she saved that little girl.

But only for a moment.

After all, a tiger can't change its stripes. And neither can Catwoman.