Trouble Begets Trouble
Word Count: 1.4k
"Have you considered taking up acting?" The light of the electrics blinked in the reflection of the lens nearest the interviewer's head as she shifted in her seat, tilting her head in the process. He blinked back, feigning bashfulness.
"Aha, no, it never occurred to me. I don't think I'm made for the silver screen."
"Really? I think I speak for everyone when I say that cameras seem to love you, Mr. Wayne." Indeed, they do. He noted three industrial cameras trained on him, surveilling him, awaiting a witty response to clip.
"Oh?" He raised a manicured eyebrow, "Do they really?"
Bruce tilted his head in kind, flitting his eyes to the centermost camera, again to the live studio audience, and once more to the interviewer before him. He met her eyes with a twinkle and the corner of his mouth twitched into a playful smirk, a calculated slip, "I didn't notice."
The audience's echoes of her laughter faded naturally as she looked away to regain her bearing.
"But, ah, seriously, you're a natural." Anyone would seem so if they spent the better half of their youth on the worst side of the camera.
He chuckled, "Well, thank you. But, believe me, if you've seen me dance, you'd know I'm better off supporting the arts, not participating."
"Speaking of, it's no secret that you're funding the opening of a new arts and sciences museum. Would you mind telling us a little bit about that?"
"No, not at all. Gotham's Museum of Arts and Science History is being established with the express intent of making both art and science history more accessible to the public. Next Friday evening, we'll be hosting the opening night which, to truly embody the mission of--we've been calling it "M.A.S.H."--will be fully open to the public, free of charge." It was upon those last words that the audience felt moved enough to cheer and applaud without the prompting of a stagehand.
"Wow, that's really wonderful of you, Mr. Wayne." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and, in the same move, swiped away a bead of sweat forming on her temple from the heat of the electrics before shifting in her seat once again, crossing her legs at the knees. "I've got to know, though, when you say the public, does that mean you are extending an invitation to the Batman as well?"
"Well, if he has the time in his schedule of doing whatever it is he does in the shadows, he is more than welcome. The arts are for everyone. Even the dark, mysterious types."
"Even criminals?"
The electrics hummed over the tiny mechanical whirrs and clicks of the cameras zooming in and refocusing on his face. She was angling for a soundbite for views where the audience was waiting for a new opinion to adopt regarding crime or Bruce himself. They leaned ever so slightly in their seats, creaking quietly as they awaited his next words.
"Like I said, the arts are for everyone. I imagine a life without art leads to a life of crime. If you can't see the beauty of the world, you're bound to recreate its ugliness. The least I can do is bring some beauty to Gotham in the continuing efforts to return our home to what it once was. Who knows, maybe Gotham's criminals are simply... uninspired Picassos."
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The sounds of the city below were a familiar melody, punctuated by a screech and spray of a taxi skidding to a halt, reluctantly halting to accommodate a gaggle of young adults crossing the road, braving the rain for the sake of a good night. The shape of their giggles and light conversation echoed into a nearby alley and broke off into the night noise. Uneven footsteps and mostly indiscernible words interrupted the monotony of the patrol.
"... damned thing."
It was workers spending their resting hours at work, hoping to avoid the pain of laboring in the humidity that had been characteristic of this Gotham summer. Priceless works of art and displays on scientific discoveries were shuttled into the museum at a steady pace, a fleet of men and women moving swiftly and undisturbed. Unusual. A new building in this city often invited opportunistic crime, a stray, nameless citizen trying to make life a touch easier. Easier by way of making someone else's harder, more often than not.
Small-time thieves wouldn't have had the foresight to intercept the trucks and career criminals could not have circumvented the security around the museum's development. It was critical that it went up with little to no difficulty. He meant every word he said in that interview. At least about the museum.
The people deserve more than "the least I can do". He shook his head once, dismissing the thought.
It was lifeless on the roof of the museum and those of surrounding buildings. In fact, aside from the rain, the occasional taxi, and the slowing happenings of setting up the museum, the night had grown still. The cowl's audio system crackled alive, the police radio speaking over the fleeting thought. "We have a situation down at Noonan's. Some guys are getting rowdy and the bouncer's nowhere to be found, over."
"Roger. We're headed that way."
Trouble begets trouble.
His cape whipped. Primed to grapple to a roof behind the museum, a darker something pulled at the corner of his vision. His boots made naught a sound as he redirected, examining the ground and listening for discrepancies in the city's soundscape. He caught the rain easing up to a light drizzle, droplets falling slower and out of rhythm. The clouds started to part.
"Catwoman."
It had been weeks since he had seen the woman who slinked out from the shadows nearest the museum, voice sultry and smooth. "Aw, how'd you know?"
The cape didn't whip so much as flutter before she found herself face to face with the mask of night, his crossed arms falling just below her shoulders.
"What are you doing here?"
"A girl can't say hi to her part-time boytoy?"
"Selina."
The lady sighed, letting her shoulders slack before knitting her fingers and reaching above her head, her leather suit tightening impossibly as she stretched. "Fine." A hand dropped to rest on her hip, the other between their chests, nails up and palm down. "I'll level with you, darling. The new museum has piqued my interest. That pretty boy has cash for days and he's handing over a week to the whole city. I'm thinking about getting myself something small but pretty, since you never do."
"Someone would notice. And the security's too high, even for you."
"And how would you know?"
"..."
"Right. Anyway," she took the cape in a gloved hand, walking it around the pillar of a man slowly. "What are you doing up here?"
"My job."
"That's not what I meant."
He knew what she meant. The hairs on his neck stood. She dropped the cape, but continued to circle him, her mechanical claws dragging along the midsection of his suit. They were catching on the micro-indentations of the suit, sending tiny vibrations down to his skin, his nerves. She peered up through her eyelashes, unknowingly landing the eye contact she sought to simulate. Her eyes were green and unblinking. The moon's reflection twinkled up at him. His right eye twitched.
"Gotham could benefit from a center like this."
"You would say that. But what about that Bruce Wayne?"
"What about him?"
"Heard he doesn't care for you much. If I was you, I wouldn't waste my night protecting stuff he could easily afford to replace." Her fingers. Her claws had been withdrawn and she began to poke at the surface of his armor with her fingertips, pressing through the skin of her gloves as if he might feel the skin of her bare hand if she pressed hard enough. It twitched again.
He slipped his hand from his chest and firmly took her by the wrist, stilling her before pulling her to face his front, using his other hand to hold her still at the waist. "That's why you're not me."
A beat of silence. She raised her free hand to his neck, thumb resting lazily on his jaw for another beat. A soft, imperceptible click from gritting and immediately un-gritting his teeth when she followed along the bone. He didn't blink and his eyes didn't water. Despite staring right at where his eyes were, she wouldn't have known if he looked away. He didn't look away. The thumb of her glove was wet.
"I wouldn't want to be."
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AN: I'm back again, or at least for now. I hope you enjoyed this. I'm hoping to write a part two.
