Batman was uncertain what to make of this new development.
He was unsure exactly when Selina had stopped stealing, but he was aware
that Catwoman continued to prowl the neighborhoods she considered her territory. The one time he’d asked what that prowling consisted of, he
was treated to a Discovery Channel summary of cat behavior in the wild:
How little time a leopard or jaguar spends hunting, compared to the
constant surveying of their territory to note who else has passed through and
what is going on. He didn’t press
the issue. She was Catwoman, it’s
what he loved about her, and Catwoman prowled the night.
When he first noticed her that night—that once-familiar
movement, darkly purple and so enticingly round and graceful, on a distant roof—he merely watched for a moment, a pleasant tickle tugging the corner of his
lip. This was the first time they
had run into each other this way since their personal circumstances changed so
radically. Bruce reflected on that
for a moment, calculating the square footage of the city and the relative size
of “her territories” and his patrol routes.
It wasn’t really surprising.
a way, he was surprised they hadn’t crossed paths before now… then he thought
no more about it.
Until an hour later when he saw her again—or thought he
did. He realized at once that was
too much of a coincidence. He must
have imagined it. She was still on
his mind from the earlier sighting, causing him to glimpse a pattern of color
and movement where it didn’t exist.
When it happened a third time, he refused to dismiss it so
easily. He was Batman.
He trusted his senses.
is what he did. He was Batman, he
patrolled his city, and the very act of patrolling meant being aware.
He trusted his observations and he trusted his instincts.
“Lenses engage,” he barked, focusing his attention on
the spot where he thought he saw movement—where he had seen dark,
purple, round cat-movement. He
scrutinized the spot as the lenses clicked into place, gazing with superhuman
concentration as if the cowl systems required his will to function. “Infrared engage…
Then he saw it.
With lightning speed, he fired a line and swung into
“What do you think you’re doing?” he began before his
boots hit the rooftop. It was
unlikely she heard more than the last word, but he didn’t care. She’d know the tone well enough, and the question was
obvious under the circumstances. But
she didn’t answer fast enough so he repeated, “I said what do you
think you’re doing?”
She looked amused.
the junior bats never noticed. But
then you were always better.”
“Catwo— Selina,” he wondered why his voice sounded so
tired suddenly, “What in god’s name are you doing?”
She looked at him a long moment, an unfathomable look in
“I would have thought…”
—it was obvious. Something she’d said often over the years when it
been obvious. Why else would someone be opening Tiffany’s safe at three in
the morning. How many times had he
heard it: “I would have thought
it was obvious, Stud.”
“…it was obvious, Bruce.”
That was then.
More in Cat-Tales #36:
World's Finest: Red Cape, Big City