Catwoman: Miss Gotham by Anya Uribe

Miss Gotham by Anya Uribe

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. In 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. This 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… magnify… magnify more.”
 

-From World’s Finest: Red Cape, Big City

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