Knightfall: The Story Comes to an End. Or Does It
|Knightfall: The Story Comes to an End. Or Does It|
|Date of Cutscene:||22 October 2019|
|Cast of Characters:||Catwoman|
Two weeks. Two weeks since the news of The Battle of Metropolis. Batman vs. Superman, video showing both of them having decimated each other. They were supposed to be dead, though no bodies were reported found. That's what everyone said. There was even a funeral service for Superman, and no sign of Batman since as far as anyone could tell.
At least, not /the/ Batman. /She/ would have known, if she'd seen or heard from him. She hadn't.
So, she got antsy, restless, into her thoughts. She'd tried to behave, tried to show him she could follow a better path, and for what? What did she expect would happen? He'd welcome her into his life? They'd live happily ever after, like in a fairytale?
They were both broken people - they had to be, given what they dressed up as and did - only one was now literally broken as far as the public was concerned. Broken and, presumably, not coming back. That other members of the Bat Family were being sighted in various parts of Gotham City, as if covering his territory, only made her believe it more.
She tried to reach out to Bruce Wayne, as her alter ego. They'd been friendly, done some charitable work together. She'd heard he survived the injuries he sustained. Wrong place, wrong time. Bad case of coincidence, only she'd learned that everything happened for a reason. Nothing was truly coincidental. What did that mean in this case? She didn't know yet.
It didn't matter. She only got through to his assistants, was told he'd contact her when he could. He hadn't, and it had been over a week.
/She'd/ been good. Hadn't done any jobs in Gotham for some time now, proving she could change for someone who was now probably six feet underground somewhere, or sealed in a tomb. She didn't even hear about a ceremony.
She made a choice. She went back to her old ways. Maybe just for one night, maybe not. Scratch that itch. Make it feel better. All would be right again. Aside from brazen hold-ups, Gotham First National Bank hadn't been stolen from in years. Their security was supposed to be top-notch. Not to her. It was amateur to her, second-rate, child's play to get in, avoid detection, then make off with a bag full of the good stuff. Yep, she still had it. Like riding a bike.
Yet, as she sat in her apartment with the cowl and goggles off, tossed away to the side and forgotten as she counted the money and jewels, she still felt empty inside. It just wasn't the same without the danger, without the chase, without the back-and-forth, without the game to play. /He/ wasn't there to try to stop her. It was too easy. The zipper was drawn closed again, the bag discarded off to a corner of the room, startling one of her lovelies who leapt away with a miffed yowl.
Catwoman remained unfulfilled, lost. It held true for Selina Kyle as well. After all, they were one and the same. Batman didn't know. Bruce didn't know. Nobody knew, but Batman was gone and that was that. Bruce Wayne might never be the same again. Neither of her would have either of him. The book on that fantasy? Slammed shut.