Batman: the RPG

[Batman]

Though regarded by many Gothamites as an "urban legend" built on superstition and fear of the city's darkened streets, Bruce Wayne knows all too well that the Batman is a cold, hard reality of his own fabrication. Since his parents' death in Gotham's dreaded "Crime Alley," Wayne has spent his life in pursuit of physical and mental perfection in order to wage an unrelenting war on crime. Watching over Gotham's streets from its gargoyles and parapets, the Dark Knight is the city's last best hope against evil. And it is this obsession that drives the Batman, for Wayne has vowed that no innocent should suffer the pain he has endured.

Addiction, it’s a hard thing for anyone to accept. Even in the gloom of the Batcave, it wasn’t hard to see what Bruce Wayne had accepted as a normal life. Where the junkie loves his needle, the Batman’s thirst for vengeance will always be his downfall, his blight. His crisp blue eyes usually portrayed a message of open charismatic charm, but under the mantle of Batman, Bruce Wayne's look was surprisingly different. These eyes pierce the void of nothingness as if they see something that isn’t there. It’s here that he relives the moments in his life that have shaped him into what he is. It’s these moments when he feels the most alone, and when his vow rings the loudest.

Deep underground, the sounds of nocturnal creatures which share likeness to his alter ego are all encompassing. The cape and cowl of his suit cut an outline of shadow that block out part of the bat computer’s screen. It was this sight that his trusted butler Alfred saw first.
"Master Bruce, I've just finished making arrangements for the Audubon Society benefit dinner, guests will be arriving at 8 o'clock sharp."
Alfred was the pillar of poise and grace as his educated British accent corresponded his message. Batman didn't move or gesture that he heard Alfred. The clicking of his leather gloved hands cut the silence in the room.
"Thank you Alfred, I'll be up shortly.

~~

Bruce Wayne was seated in a large overstuffed chair, accompanied by two beautiful women, one was tall and exotic, her dark eyes offset by her emerald green dress. The other was a demure blonde her curvy locks covering one eye; she was dressed in a simple cream pantsuit.
"So Brucey, when are you ever gonna get around to finding that special girl?" the exotic one asked, her voice was smoky and rich.
"I, uh…" Bruce ran a hand through his coarse black hair and smiled sheepishly. The second girl wasn't as forward; she simply ran her soft brown eyes up and down the multibillionaire's frame. Alfred steeped into the doorway of the smoking den and Bruce caught his eye. Pushing up from the chair,
"If you two will excuse me I have to let the caterer's know how many more cases of champagne need to be opened.”

The sound of the Audubon Society's auction was somewhat muffled from his current location, as he walked up to his butler. He quickly ducked out the room and Alfred followed,
"I don't mean to interrupt Master Bruce, but we've had a bit of unsettling news."
Bruce walked to his private study and closed the door behind them, "Please go on." Alfred nodded quickly and then began, "Master Dick hasn't checked in this evening and the tracer on his suit is wavering." Bruce's face went from intense listening to foreboding.
"Please make the usual excuses for me," he ordered. Without another word, he entered the Batcave via the large grandfather clock. He set the hands to the time of his parents' death, and the secret door opened. Donning the mantle of the Bat, Bruce Wayne set off in the Batwing using the locator to pinpoint his partner's location.

~~

As he powered up the Batwing, he hoped to Christ that Robin wasn’t in over his head. That he hadn’t tried to do another one of his solo missions to prove himself… but he also knew that Christ stopped listening when his parents fell. They fell like the broken string of pearls around his mother's neck. Young Bruce's eyes were like two pools of darkness that night. He remembered it perfectly.

Thomas and Martha Wayne rarely got to spend quality time together with their son, Bruce. Thomas' life was his work. Young Bruce had been begging his father to take him to see `The Mark of Zorro' all week. Thomas sympathized with his son, but confessed he was far too busy with his current workload to take him. Bruce sat sulking while half watching his favorite television show `The Grey Ghost' in the den. A tap on the shoulder and he looked up,
"Dad?" he asked surprised.
"Ready to go son? We don't want to be late…" his father teased dangling three movie tickets in front of Bruce's nose. The young boys face lit up with a dazzling smile. Bruce wasted no time getting ready. He sat on the edge of his chair the entire movie his eyes taking in the imagery as he munched popcorn. Afterward he was still on cloud nine as the trio walked down the alleyway behind the theatre, a shortcut to the car. Martha held Bruce's hand as the shadows grew near.
"Your wallet and your jewelry!" hissed the first shadow stepping out next to Thomas Wayne. The second thug, a man named Joe Chill, stepped out behind Martha. Thomas' first reaction was to slam his elbow into the assailant's cheekbone. It would have worked, if it weren't for the second. His gun went off the barrel flashing in the darkness.
"Thomas, No!" Martha shouted as Joe's second shot went off. The first assailant grabbed at her pearl necklace as she fell, spilling the beads across the street as the string snapped. The police eventually arrived but they were far too late to help the Waynes.

`I don't know what you've gotten yourself involved in now Robin, but I hope you can hold on…' he thought to himself.

Rain pelted off the angled windshield of the Batwing as it sliced through the dark storm clouds. As the homing beacon implanted in Robin’s suit resounded in the background, the wind picked up and honed in on Robin. He was three miles from the Batwing's current location. The Batwing landed before a dilapidated cemetery and the canopy hissed open letting the elements inside. Batman climbed out, his cape flying out behind him as he ran past statues and gravestones. With ease he leapt atop a small mausoleum and surveyed the carnage. The two white slits that usually remained focused and serious, opened wide as his mouth fell agape.

"My God…"

[Dick Grayson]

In the darkness he'd crept into the secret caves under the large Manor, he knew the winding halls and was accustomed to the flap of batwings overhead. This was somewhere he stole away to, tonight was no different. It was a part of who he was now. Ever since he'd been taken in. It was almost eerie how the two were so close, yet different. Similar pasts. Similar horrors. Fighting side by side against crime, seeking redemption, vengeance, solace with every punch. But tonight, he was flying solo. Bruce hated when he did that, when he left, trying to prove himself.

The fact of the matter was, Dick Grayson, wasn't used to the surface side life Bruce lived. The socialites. The parties. Expensive things. As a young boy he knew traveling the world. And the oddities that came with living life in a place for a week at a time. The circus however was an interesting place to grow up as a child, plenty of amusement. Couldn't ever be bored. Though sometimes he'd wished for a different life, he didn't think it would change as drastically as it did.

---

”Ladies and Gents, I'm proud to introduce…The Flying Graysons!”<br>He watched from the folds of the tent, mother and father climbing the ladders up to the top of the tent. He always loved watching their opening act. His part came later, as he'd been trained for many years. The crowd was cheering especially loud this night, whoops and hollers could be heard. But the Graysons paid little mind. Mary smiled to her husband and gave him a kiss for luck before he swung out onto the suspended trapeze.

Eyes lit up as mother swung out as well, each working to build momentum. But there was something that Dick hadn't seen happen. When all was quiet and dark. As they prepared and got ready in costumes. The tampering with the cords that his parents now swung on. Excitement pounded in his chest, after this trick he would join them in the skies of the tent, flying above the crowds gasping oohs and awws. That feeling soon changed as eyes widened beholding the events. After his mothers release and executed triple, grasping his fathers hands, the couple jerked. Gravity and weight working against them, and the tension of the already corrupted rope. Gasps of shook soon filled the air, as the pair swung out a snap of the left cord.

Sliding his father released on hold of his wife, to hold the bar. His mothers look of fear as she held on to her husbands strong grip. The pair looked into each others eyes for the last time, then too the shadows where he stood. The snap of the second cord giving way, lead to screams of horror from the crowd. His own gurgled cry echoed in his ears as form moved to run. It was that night he met the man clad in a bat suit.

---

To that very day the young man could never forget the sickening thud that came from his parents bodies hitting the hard ground. And it was still why he sought to fight against it. Despite the training, and the discipline, Dick was still impulsive, reckless. And tonight was much of the same. He'd found some information and went out on his own. Bruce would have never agreed. The criminals he was going after had ties to the man who killed his parents. Maybe deep down he hoped it would ease the pain he felt.

He'd raced into the graveyard, and came upon them from the shadows. He thought it would have been easy, only two were counted. He was wrong. Gloved fist made contact with one of the thugs, and then again, the smell of blood from a broken nose clung to the leather. With a spin Robin kicked a booted foot into the lower back of the one trying to run. They weren't going to get away from him. It was as if anger boiled within him each time he made contact, but it did nothing for the loss he felt deep down. Back turned to a larger mausoleum as his foot came down holding the thug with pressure applied to his throat.

That's when the group inside, robbing the rich grave, came to the surface. Form flew forwards and he rolled in defense springing back up to his feet, turning he came face to face with a man at least three times his size.
“Whoa, ugly.”
Fist came up as he sprang forwards to attack, he was caught off guard how quickly the blob of a man moved as his hand crushed into his adam's apple. Coughing he fell back, only to be grabbed to be hit down once more. Pushing himself up Robin moved to pull out one of the many weapons and gadgets upon his utility belt. Wrist was gripped and he was spun around before being used as a battering ram against a gravestone.

There was the sound of a crack, and it wasn't from old stone, it was from his ribs. Still his determination didn't wane. Pushing himself up against the pain, he kicked making contact with the knee cap of the man. He stopped only a moment to pop the dislocated knee back in place before going after Robin once more. Blood splattered across the gray stone cross, this time it was his, as it spit from his mouth with a gag. With useless struggling he fought back against the massive hands that now closed around his throat, lifting him into the air. Gloved hands gripped onto chunky wrists while gasping for air. He could feel head start to swim as vision was going black, hand gripped for the first thing he could find. The flare gun.

Raising it finger pulled the trigger and a howl of pain billowed forth from the man now suffering thrid degree burns to his face and eyes, while his form was dropped the ground in a heap. Air came rushing back to his lungs, and he could already feel the welt starting under his right eye. There wasn't much time to catch his breath, and he knew it as the three other goons started to close in...

[Batman]

Blood covered the gangster and Robin. And despite his anger with the boy at this moment he was proud. Robin’s figure stood tall, straight despite its injuries and was silhouetted by the flash of lighting behind him. Rainwater pooled around him, dripping off the mask of his uniform. Cold hard vengeance is what he wanted, Bruce recognized the look. He’d often worn it himself. But he knew it wouldn't bring any of them back. The Graysons, the Waynes… both set of parents would remain as cold as this night.

“Well looky what we have here… the boy-blunder’s escort has arrived… too bad you missed the floor show, but I think fer you we’ll make an encore.”
It was like salt in a wound for Bruce; witnessing the events unfolding before him. But in some respects Batman did not know what to think of Robin’s actions. Dick Grayson already knew the ambiguity of a costume for this encounter.

It was as Wayne, not as Batman, that last saw Joe Chill, his own karmic creator, and it was Wayne who traveled the world, learning criminology and martial arts and gymnastics and all the other things a young boy would need to wage a one-man war on crime. It was Wayne who stood in that graveyard and swore an oath to his parents, and at that time Batman wasn't even a glimmer in his mind. It was Bruce Wayne’s obsession which drove him into the costume.

It brought forth an interesting question. Had he managed to prevent Dick from inheriting the same obsession? Or was he really helping him evolve into manhood by giving him the tools and training to wage this war against crime?
“Robin.” Batman’s voice was a hard edge.
He leapt from the top of the mausoleum, his feet landing solidly between the beefy gangster’s shoulders, forcing him to fall face first in the mud.
Deftly he maneuvered away from the prone man, as practiced fingers flipped out a batarang which sailed though the air and into the side of the second’s hand, knocking his gun free.

“It’s the Batman! Get him!” shouted the man as he cradled his hand and then ran straight for the pair or crime fighters. He waited like the statues that surrounded him until it was necessary to move. His figure pivoted, as his weighted cape flared out heavily, like a leathery wing, and his fist came straight down. He connected with the slender man’s angular cheek, forcing his head to smash into the top lip of gravestone that had been behind him. The heavy was getting up. His eyes moved to Robin as he knelt to handcuff the first.
“Robin behind you!”

[Harvey Dent]

A form, stretches slightly, eyeing his world through what it seems is a new set of eyes. No… these are the same eyes sadly, yet now they are badly misshapen and deformed. What happened… what did he do wrong… no why did he do wrong? He was doing so well… he was working with Batman and Commissioner Gordon… he was doing good! Now look at him… chained up like some prisoner. Like the common thieves he had help put behind these god-forsaken bars. Why… why… why.

~~~

“Do you mock the court, Mr. Maroni?” Dent’s face was close, a snarl and coffee stained breath was close to his nose as he talked his way through this. “Do you want to have us believe, that Falcone had NOTHING to do with the holiday killings?” He was getting heated, how badly he had wanted to pull his tie off and strangle Maroni, he was breaking their deal!

“No… he had nothing to do with them, sir.” Was the cocky, Italian accented answer, in retort to the over zealous question. A brow rose as he grinned. “Why would he kill his own daughter?”<br>
Then Harvey got it… Harvey understood everything. “Ah… so you have a point… you are part of a gang… a Mafia of sorts, is that right, Mr. Maroni?” Eyes were now on Harvey Dent from every direction, especially from ‘Boss’ Maroni.

“I plea the fifth.” He snorted, his hands playing by his pockets as he cleared his throats.

“Ah… so let me see… There is a gang war out there, correct, Mr. Maroni? Well, I won’t wait for you to answer that, the entire city of Gotham knows about it… and… hold on please as I check my references.” Eyes scanned folders on his desk before Harvey moved closer to Maroni again. However, just as he was about to continue on with his offense… something was in his eyes. “AHH!!! JESUS H. CHRIST IT BURNS!” He was quickly down on the floor, writhing in pain. Hands covered his face, only to be burned as well.

Suddenly it was dark for him, however, the pain ensued. When he woke up, it was a week later, yet he could only see out of one eye. “What… what is going on?” he asked softly, yet he felt an odd tugging at the corner of his mouth… pain which soon welled with the movement of his mouth. Tears formed in his eyes, but he forced them back.

“Doctor… Doctor he’s awake!” by then, Harvey could see everything from his now unblurred right eye. He was in the hospital, white dressings covered his face, he could feel it tucked oddly around his face. Trying to lift his left hand to his face, he suddenly felt it there too. What had happened? Why was he here?

His form slowly tried to get up, however the pain ensued as he moved. “Mr. Dent, Mr. Dent… I have to ask you to stay still… to please keep still… my name is Doctor Emphry… I am here to help. You had a bad accident, Mr. Dent… a very serious accident. I need you to lie still for me, I need to check your wounds.” From there, Harvey did as he was told, while something broke inside of him…

‘That mother fucker did this to us…. Now we have to deal with him…. Now we have to bring justice, OUR way.’<br>
Days passed, weeks passed… as two months passed…. Gilda came to him. “Harvey… we need to talk.” She was holding something in her hands… holding something within a folder.

“You want a divorce…” his voice didn’t sound like his own… he sneered and eyed her from his good eye, before beginning to unwrap himself. “You don’t want to be married to a monster… that’s it?” He cracked his neck uncontrollably as he did this, finally revealing the horrific scarring that had been healing for so long under the wrappings. Her scream deafened him slightly before he grabbed the papers and unwillingly, his left hand signed it. “HERE BITCH.” With that he began to take off each and every wire that led to him, only for his doctor to come in.

“Nurse, he’s trying to leave! Get his wife, she fainted.” The doctor came before him and his doorway out, two different eyes stared into the doctors normal face. “Mr. Dent, I am afraid I cannot let you leave in this condition.”

Sneering, Harvey pushed his doctor away from the door and ran… ran to the sewers and his new hideout.

~~~

Now look where he was… that stupid coin toss… that stupid divorce papers… if he had only never made that arrangement with Maroni… If only was a term used by someone else, not Harvey Dent anymore…. For Harvey Dent was no longer just Harvey… he was also Two-Face.

~~~

“You did the right thing there Harv…” he said roughly to himself as he began to look around his new place. “It ain’t so bad here… you’ll learn to love it in the dark, it’s where I’ve been all these years, cooped up in our mind, shoved back there like something forgotten!”

Suddenly Harvey jerked the other way, and it was clear he was talking with the other side of his mouth, with another voice… softer, like the old Harvey. “No… I didn’t choose to do that! I didn’t want to hurt her…”

“Oh.. but she hurt us, Harv… you have to think of Us…. What’s good for us!” Then he glanced down and saw the quarter. “How bout this Harv… this will be our thing, fate… right?” His scarred hand grasped the quarter with discolored fingernails, his ‘good’ hand grasping a paring knife he found ,that had fallen into the sewer, and began to scratch up one side. “The side that is perfect is your idea… and the side that is scratched and marred… is my idea…” He gave it a good flip, it still worked.

“I want to turn myself in… us… I want to turn us in.” The other side of his body groaned at the idea, but flipped the coin like he said he would do and caught it mid air.

“Heads or tails!” his rough and smoky laugh filled the air before placing it on the perfectly smooth right hand. The side that faced upward was the smooth one. “Damnit… alright….”

~~~

Writhed now in his cell. “We need to get out, we need to move! We can’t be in here forever!” but that was all… no answer, no nothing… just… silence outside of their screams.

[Catwoman]

The Katt's Kradle, home to many of the finest women that money can buy. Where the rich could go and order a nice looking girl to escort him to the latest fuction. Where for just a meezly penny, you can sometimes get more than you bargained for but all that you wanted. Where you could just go and have a good time, socialize with the upper class crowd in the busiest part of Gotham City. For the Katt's Kradle had class, was not sleezy and only accepted the most resputable men and women for the most unbelievable prices. Where anything could happen. You could sit and have a drink and find yourself lured in by the voices that sang on stage or the figured that moved about, with curves that would make Marilyn Monroe herself jealous. The Katt's Kradle, Where Men truly become Men, was where Selina Kyle called her place of buisiness.

Selina was the pick of the crop, the cherry on the sundae, the most sought after gem in the place, and also the most expensive. She lured men in with her charms, her looks, her voice, anything to make her dollars. The best function for the best price. And thats how she liked it, she loved riches. If you knew Selina, you'd know that her smile could pull her in faster than you could close your wallet, and the same went for her eyes, her grace and well her body. But if you knew Selina, if you really knew her past, you'd find that this sort of work was an odd choice. Leaving a life of Slavery for a life of captivity. Becoming everything she once hated, just her father said. She sold her body but gave more of her soul. But if you asked Selina if she enjoyed it all, she'd laugh and tell you that 'the luxuries in life came with a price, and she was one.'

~~

Tonight all she could think about was him...Her Father. And she remembered it as if it was playing right in front of her:

"Selina you're just like your mother. That no good whore, you'll never amount to anything because you're everything she was." "Don't talk about Mama that way!" she was still sad and broken inside at the sudden death of her mother. Without warning the woman took her life, she became free. Free of him but left her two daughters to die. Selina yelled at her father while Maggie said shivering in the corner. The smell of booze flooded the air as if the house was bathed in it. He staggered up and towards her. " You no good little bitch. I'll set you straight." She went to bed in tears, sore that night, and angry. The bruises would go away eventually but other things would never heal. The next day she went off to school as usual but when she got home it was the same. Then the next day, and the day after that. For years she wen't through this hell until finally one day she didn't come home a drunken father cussing and cursing no, she came home to silence. And a lifeless body in his chair. " Operator! I need some help please! Quick..My father..he's he's not moving not breathing. Please help me." she left that night, if only it had been for a long time. The cats her mother had such a connection with and felt so deeply for she now understood. She now set them free.

When she returned she was placed into that horrid Orphanage and learned that her father had died of Liver Failure. Finally the drink caught up with him. And she would never forget his expression on his face. He deserved worse, worse than what he got.

~~

She sat calmly tonight at some function this man paid her to attend. It was a good 2 hundred dollars a plate but she was worth it right? Her dark hair was pulled back and purple eye shades complimented the pair of alluring green orbs. The dress matched just find and crimson lips held their smile. Some might remember her from her employment but chances are that they didn't. After all, with the rich when you weren't needed anymore they forgot you in the blink of an eye. The man she was escorting was pulling his wits and charisma to the table occupants. She sat, arm in arm and laughed at the older gentlemans rather ridiculous attempts at jokes. 'Remember Selina..you're paid to make him look good'. He wasn't much older than her, at least not the oldest she had escorted anywhere. This guy was only twice her age maybe another decade give or take.

The function of the night was a charitable case, the Audubon Society benefit dinner. She had heard about this just a bit from the news reports or papers, but to her it really meant nothing but a room full of stiff men. Who would guard their pockets much more than their wives. She could name half the socialites who moved about the room. Most were on the news often, but her sights caught on a praticular man who was far more renowned then the rest. He was leaving, quite the interesting sight. Bruce Wayne was his name, he was probably the wealthiest man in here. No, not probably, deffidently. She watched him leave the room, with no real reaction at first before returning all her attentions to the man she was with and his drabble of speech. She could only down a bit of the champange much quicker, her lipstick leaving a rather noticable mark on the glass. No one wanted to hear the opinions of a woman who was not married to him. Even if she had many. Smiling brightly she nodded to the table and agreed with the others softly. " quite amusing indeed." This was going to be a boring evening indeed. And anyone could tell when they glanced at her.

[Dick Grayson]

Robin stood boldly poised to take on any other on coming attack, until the goons turned their attentions elsewhere. Mask covered eyes turned up to the shadows. Batman. This only made the young man want all that more to defeat the men before him. But he was already getting in on the action. With a growl Robin went on attack, hand gripping the wrist of the man swinging a left hook at him. Gloved hand gripped tight while his form dropped some. Free hand shot up, heel of his palm making contact with the elbow joint. With the right amount of pressure pulling down on the wrist, as he used the ground as extra leverage in pushing the joint inverted. A howl of pain erupted from the man as he moved to grab his now broken arm, but Dick wasn’t finished. In a high arched kick to his upper temples, using the grip on his wrist to flip him over into the ground.

Light rain turned into a down pour as he stood, shoulders heaving with his ragged breath. All the thugs down for the count, if not already tied or cuffed. Eyes shot up to the looming figure of Batman as he straightened. Rain kept the blood from drying, so it was smeared against his face. From his nose down his chin. A large welt against right cheek bone, another bruise starting to show against his jaw. Mud and bits of ground were in the cracks of his boot’s soles, and his slicked hair. Teeth gritted against the pain of broken ribs and sore muscles.
“What are you doing here? I can handle myself.”<br>There was the slight hint of anger in his tone, like the action from Bruce reveled that he didn’t believe in the orphaned Grayson. But Dick wasn’t a child anymore. Though deep somewhere in the back of his thoughts, he was glad Batman showed when he did. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that. For now he planed to brood almost as much as his elder partner did.

No more words were expressed as Dick moved, the soiled and soaked uniform sticking in places, even being made with Kevlar and Nomex fabrics. It didn’t always protect from massive beatings, like the one he’d taken. But he was more than prepared. It was now the life he wanted live. Each day he worked himself harder and harder in his fitness and practice regime, for nights like this. But when would Bruce see he was ready, as he felt he was. Though rash actions like the ones he’d took, didn’t play out well for his cause. Robin mounted the motorcycle and kick started it, riding off into the dark cold night. The road only took him home, well his new home at least. Wayne Manor. Unfornuatly for him there was a social event going on upstairs.

When he arrived in the BatCave, Alfred Pennyworth was already waiting for him. Table ready as well as gloves upon his hands.
“Welcome back, young Master Grayson. Come let’s fix you up.”<br>With a reluctant and pained sigh he removed the upper portion of his uniform, sitting upon the table set up down in the cave, while the elder gentleman got to work. Pain was still felt in his ribs even after everything Alfred had done for him. Large wounds were stitched and his clean shaven face was washed of blood and grime. A smaller dressing upon his cheek.

“Thanks, Al.”<br>“One more thing, Master Grayson.”<br>Dick turned after standing from the tables edge where he’d sat himself. Eyes looked over what the trusted butler held up. In one hand held up a pressed black suit with, a fresh white button down shirt and crimson tie.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…your not, serious...you are.”<br>When Alfred gave him one of those ‘I never kid, sir’ looks he grumbled snatching the suit from the man before taking off. And after sometime he slipped in unnoticed, before mingling into the group as if he’d been there the entire time. This wasn’t his scene and he was looking for a way out, any excuse to take up the stairs to the back corner of the manor where his room was.

[Catwoman]

She was quite comfortable where she was. She was used to it. The high functions, the socialite mond set. She was really one of them deep down in side. For as much as she hated to say it, or loved to think about it, she was a socialite herself. She loved riches, and she loved the luxurious life, even if she wasn't fully there yet. She would always hold try to a promise she made many years ago when she left the Orphanage and that cranky spitful woman behind 'I'll never need anything ever again from anyone', and that was just fine for her. She didn't need anyone, or anything from anyone, she would get it all herself. In any way she could.

Suddenly in her dazed off state, she felt a hand rub her lower back and the man leaned close. " Selina darling, Excuse me while I go and speak with some colleagues of mine." "Of course" and with a sudden and rather irritating kiss on the cheek, and a smile from her red lips the man stood and moved to join the groups mingling on the floor. He spoke to some people here and there and if not everywhere, and ignored the woman he paid for. Which suited her just fine as well. He was a pompus annoying man whom she was glad to be rid of for the moments.

Standing from her seat, as the boredom had set in, she moved towards the bar. Well, if she wasn't going to be fitted into his conversation then she would make her own fun. Leaning slowly against the bar she smiled charismatically to the tender. " A glass of chardonnay please." When the drink came to her, she flirted rather easely with the tender for a little while, it cured her boredom for the moments. But when he had to serve more people, she turned around and leaned her elbows onto the bar. Sipping the drink occasionally. Finally and man spoke and she listened to him from near by. Laughter escaped her lips at his joke before he turned back away and to his rather heated and jealous wife. So she herself turned back to the room. Just eyeing around for anything that might catch her attentions. Yup. she was right, the right people, the most boring night. What a mix.

[chasemeridian]

Blue-green eyes swept across the bare apartment, sure various boxes and a couple of suitcases were settled in one corner, but to her it was still bare, still lonely looking. A sigh left her lips covered in cherry red lipstick, it gave her that classic movie star look, which she liked having, and it tended to make her hair appear just a little more blonde than red.

Plugging a portable stereo into an outlet, Chase filled the apartment with the operatic sounds of “Faust” with a touch of the play button and went to work putting her corner of the world into order. Soon pictures, mostly black and white photographs from her “ I want to take pictures for a living” phase hung on the walls, in the end said phase hadn’t really gone to waste, it all made good décor for her own place. Satisfied for now with the front room and dining area even though she would have no furniture until tomorrow, the doctorate bound young woman moved to the master bedroom and began the task of assembling her oriental inspired bed.

Unlike most kids her age, she did not carry with her an entourage of family photos while to pile dresser tops with, instead she placed various scholastic awards, her high school diploma, Val Victorian award and framed speech and other various accomplishments on her dresser tops as reminders of how far she has come to get to this last point. On her large cherry wood desk was placed a laptop and an old fashioned type-writer, which was used for the book she was working on about the inner workings of the criminal mind. This was half the reason she chose Gotham City for her internship and graduate program, it was full of criminal masterminds and other interesting characters. It was perfect grounds for her book and somehow in all it’s darkness and dismal out looks, the gothic city felt like home, it was a welcome change to the rolling grassy plains of lower South Dakota where she had been raised, and the sunny beaches of Florida where she had begun her college career.

Turning off the stereo, Chase snatched her purse and left her less bare looking apartment. Once downstairs, she flagged down a cab and headed for the outskirts of the city, her destination, Arkham Asylum to finish signing up for their intern program and to take in the city a little bit more during the ride out there.

~ ~ ~
Two Days Later…<br>
Something about the colors red and black has always appealed to her, so when she was called up by an old friend of her Uncle that raised her to attend some Function, Chase figured she had bought the black cocktail dress with it’s deep red sash for a reason. Matching it with red strappy stilettos, she was the perfect vision, her make-up simple save for the stain of red across her lips. She had straightened her long locks and let them fall softly about her shoulders, with just a single wavy curl coming to dance at time across the left side of her face, it made her feel just a little bit mysterious and all the more alluring since no one but Alfred knew her here anyhow.

How glad she had been to learn that such a familiar and caring face was within the all the darkness that Gotham had to offer, but it was odd how she had discovered him, running into him at the Asylum of all places, and it had been there that the old man had given her a personal invite as his guest to the function she was presently at now.

“ Miss Meridian, how are you fairing? You look lovely.” Came the kind voice.

Turning and plucked a glass of champagne from the tray he was holding and took a quick sip,” Chase please, and I’m fairing well thank you.” She smiled, about to launch into asking him what the function was all about when he suddenly and mysteriously excused himself, with a curious gleam in her eyes, Chase watched the elder man exit into another room, “ Hm.” Setting the glass down, the young woman quietly let herself into the same room which Alfred had disappeared into, which turned out to be a vast library and it instantly made her forget her original reason for disappearing into the room in the first place as she began to browse the volumes caked in a thin layer of dust.

[Batman]

As the handcuffed man groggily struggled to get up, Batman planted his foot squarely in between his shoulder blades and kicked down, slamming his face back into the mud. His jaw grit tight as he growled a command.
“Stay down!”
The fight had left him, his eyes rolled from the concussion blow to the head as he passed out. Batman stood to his full height, his figure closing the distance between he and Robin. His icy stare looked over the boy. He judged his injuries, knew where he’d been hit, where it would be best to exploit those injuries in combat. He wasn’t sizing him up to fight; it was just part of the training. Know thy enemy. It was a reflex now; muscle memory; Pavlov theory.
“Three broken ribs,” his eyes narrowed, “I’ll see you back at the Batcave,” he ordered, ignoring Robin’s question and defensive posturing.

As he drove back he patched in with Alfred, the butler’s face appearing on the LCD screen inside the cockpit of the Batmobile.
“Alfred, we’re on our way. Robin has sustained a few injuries, please get the medical unit ready.”
“Oh my… how is he?”
“Alive and well, from my best guess he has a few rib fractures, and possible strain to the anterior cruciate ligament, ETA in ten minutes, out.”
Bruce was in no mood to socialize. His biting tone hinted that he was very angry, far more so than if Robin had been hurt during a regular patrol. This time he was letting the events that had shaped this evening grind away at the old wounds. This time it was like looking at reflection of that first year.

Batman entered the Batcave shortly after Robin, exiting the vehicle with a grim expression. Rainwater pooled off the blackened cape and as he walked toward the butler and his new protégé he reached up with one hand and ripped off his cowl.
“That is the last time you decide to go on a personal vendetta Dick. If you had Intel on the whereabouts of Zucco’s men you should have come to me first.”
He unhooked his utility belt and tossed it angrily onto the metal instrument tray.
“I’ll see you upstairs.”
Anger.
It was all Bruce knew.
Sometimes he wondered if it was the only thing left in him. The only part that was still human, instead of this obsessed machination of honed vengeance and self righteous justice. It was times like this that he wondered if he should tell Dick who he was… that he was his father, but he never would. The torch that Dick held for the Graysons gave him a sense of normality that Bruce could never hope to offer. It was best if he left their memory undaunted.

~~

Bruce showered, changed back into the tuxedo, and reappeared amid the party goers with liquid grace. With a champagne glass in one had that secretly contained ginger ale instead of the 300$ a pop alcohol, the multi-billionaire paid the usual visits to the governor, and the big-wigs here and there. He paused for a moment, speaking with the newly appointed police commissioner James Gordon.
“I’m glad you could make it Commissioner… and who is this lovely lady at your side?” he sized up the young redheaded girl.
“Thank you Mr. Wayne. This is my niece, Barbara…”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Gordon,” Bruce shook her hand and smiled, “enjoy the party. I’ll be sure to see you again.”
He was always this way in social events. Flitting from face to face and making the minimal conversation, perhaps sharing a brief story or two… but for the most part, he was accustomed to being the stranger in his own home.

[Catwoman]

Suddenly from her spot she was ushered over by the man she was escorting. Time to get to work. Slowly she moved with a grace rather undefinable, towards the crowd of men and women which were now socializing. The tall glass swirled just a bit in her hand as she sipped it here and there. Maybe something interesting would happen soon enough.

"Selina darling. I want you to meet some rather important people." she smiled generously and shook hands with everyone who she came to be introduced to. " Hello" "it's a please" "My! what a lovely dress, is it Versace?" "What a quaint and beautiful pearl necklace. It really compliments you Madame Boublaire" it was all well and good, I mean, the way they stared at her, laughing gently, smiles, pure niave egotism and the occasional snobby upturn, was all to much to bare, she had to restrain her laughter. These people knew nothing of real life but Selina could always play along right. She always loved games.

Finally as she continued on she felt the hand of the man touch her lower back but she did not waver. She did not flinch or move, that was in her job description. Instead, she followed his lead and soon the tall dark haired woman with the peircing pair of green eyes, whom always seemed to search for the most sought after prize, the most lavish and expensive items, found her peircing pair on a man. A man who ran out earlier, the richest man in this room. Wayne, Bruce Wayne. And quite the play boy he was, just as she imagined. Like a little mouse, it was almost too amusing really. She couldn't help but let the red pair of lips pull to a smile.

" Wayne! I want you to meet Selina!" Her hand lifted to grasp his own and a soft shake was in order. " A pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne. I've heard so much about you. Your generous nature is truely uncanny. But enough of flatteries, I won't waste your time." "Did you hear that Wayne..Shes wasting your time." the man beside her laughed almost to abruptly and loudly, causing Selina to roll her eyes a bit. It wasn't obvious he was one of those arrogant types, who drink to much at these events. A waiter moved by and she quickly placed the lipstick stained glass onto the tray before grabbing another. And then the pair moved off. But not before a slap on the back from the elder gentleman to Bruce.

[Dick Grayson]

Robin’s eyes narrowed under the mask he wore towards Batman. Sometimes. Sometimes he was so angry at him. But, Bruce took him in. Gave him a home. Breathing heavily he watched before Batman commented.
“Don’t.”<br>He almost growled, his adrenaline was still pumping from the fight. From taking on these men. For trying to do his own thing. Only to feel like he had failed because he showed up.
“Don’t analyze me like I’m one of them.”<br>
He knew Bruce would have called the manor. Informed the elderly butler of their arrival. Of his situation. Sometimes he hated that feeling. His anger wasn’t towards Bruce. Mostly it was towards himself. He was tearing himself down one wrong move after another. Dick had been around Bruce long enough to catch that tone in his voice. When he was disappointed in the young Grayson. Head shook and he turned around to where Bruce had shown up. That look on his face as the cowl was removed. The look in his eyes.
“Out of everyone I thought you’d understand. You watched your parents die too! If anything it was my fight. Not your’es. They were my family.”

In way’s Dick wasn’t ready to have this conversation. To talk about his parents. About what happened. Even though it’d been some years now. It was still a painful memory. Something that still stung him deeply. Couldn’t Bruce see that? Try as hard as he could, Dick knew otherwise. Bruce wasn’t without feelings. He just rarely showed the vastness of them. Upstairs Dick mingled for a while. Before he made his way towards where Bruce was, with the Commissioner. He eyed up the man who’s home he lived in before turning towards the Gordons.
“And who is this young lad?”<br>“I’m Dick Grayson.”<br>“Grayson. Ah, yes. I’ve read a back case file. I’m sorry about your parents. It was generous of Mr. Wayne to take you in.”<br>“Yeah.”<br>He looked over to the younger girl that was introduced and smiled some. Bruce was moving again but Dick stayed behind.

He was still young and impressionable in many accounts. But he was at a rough age. Seventeen. Though he knew the answer to everything. But was only barely legal to drive. Nothing much more, in society’s view. Even if he kicked serious Gotham bad guy ass on a nightly bases. For a while he mingled with Barbra getting to know her before the Commissioner came to take her back home for the evening. With a sigh he moved around, mixing with a crowd where most were at least three times older than him. Even older that Bruce. Typical. It always seemed the really attractive ladies went flocking to him. Maybe it was the money. He couldn’t say for sure. He moved walking towards the bar, not that he was even old enough to have anything from it. Save for the ginger ale he requested.

[Batman]

The monotony of the social event was wearing thin on Bruce’s patience. It was for a good cause, that was what kept him here, and in the public eye, but he would be all the more content when his home returned to being the hollowed hallways filled with memories of the past.
“Master Wayne, the caterer would like to inform you that he has run out of Beef Bourgeois but that he would be able to serve some Cornish game hen if you wouldn’t mind a slight menu change… apparently there were a few extra guests and he did not prepare enough beforehand.”<br>Bruce nodded to Alfred as he spoke, his hand waving off the trifle inquiry.
“Sure. Oh and Alfred, See that our new Commissioner gets a gift basket sent to his home congratulating him on his new position, and someone named Mr. Hensley needs a taxi to take him back his hotel, he is far to inebriated to drive.”
“Of course, Sir.”

Bruce departed, setting his glass on the lip of an end table as he moved on. From an outside perspective he seemed distracted, almost bored, but it was all an act. Far be it, he didn’t miss a thing. Keen blue eyes fixed here and there, pausing on a beautiful dark-haired woman.
“My time is never wasted on a beautiful face. It truly is a delight to meet you Selina.”
Her date was a braggart he’d met once at a stockholders meeting. He’d remember that knockoff cologne and bad toupee anywhere.
“Ernie…Thanks for your generous contribution. I’m sure the Audubon Society will find a good use for it.” he regarded her date with a slightly less than thrilled tenor.
His figure tightened as he received the slap on the back and it took a defined effort not to react to the physical contact. Bruce unclenched his fist, paused his step, and then shared a look with Selina that silently stated that he understood the misery she was enduring.

[Talia Al Ghul]

She knew what she was supposed to do. The things her father had said. Her father was quite the man. Though love wasn’t often shown, he cared about his daughter. Talia. He wanted what was best for her. Talia knew this. Like each assassin trained in her father’s camp, she was as well. Even as the years pass, she becomes more deadly, as well as beautiful. Even with the test for her suitor. This was similar. Dark silken tresses were pulled and wound tight into a French bun. While chop-sticks held the strands in place keeping it off her face.

Not that she didn’t use caution while performing this. There were plenty of people around. Severs as well. If she acted subservient none would be the wiser. With a smile here and there, she poured drinks for those who’d come to the nights events. She was always paying attention though. Until she saw him. The young boy. Fresh wrapping on his cheek. The hints of each step being taken with care, like a wounded animal too proud to lick it’s wounds. A bow of her head to those around her and Talia was moving. Watching him through the crowds.

Softly she smirked as she stopped behind the bar, lifting another bottle from the cooler. Silently she watched as to make sure there was enough distance. Then she made her move. As Dick neared the bar she breezed behind him, fingertips curling over his shoulder.
“You look a little down. If you want something to ease the pain and a little bit of company. Follow me.”<br>From behind him she moved placing the bottle into his hands. As Dick started to turn she shifted, and took his hand to lead him off before he was able to catch a glimpse of her face. Outside she heard the pop of the bottle, then the cough of an inexperienced drinker. Fingers pulled on a black mask over her features. Finally she turned to meet his gaze and he backed away.

“Ah-huh. No running.”<br>Dick did as she though he would have, and went on the defensive swinging the bottle towards her. Left forearm moved up blocking his wrist, while the heel of her hand slammed into the sternum of his chest. Another movement and the boy would be on his knees. Point of her elbow came in hard contact with the already broken ribs and Dick buckled with a yowl of pain. She abused the knowledge she gathered from watching him. The weakness. Hand moved quickly covering a rag over his mouth that during his muffled yell, he would breath in the chloroform. All of this was done in front of the security cameras. It would have looked like a normal kidnapping by a masked suspect when viewed. Which was all part of the plan. The only sign left was a broken chop stick knocked from her hair. Trampled on during Dick’s struggle to get away, and to keep consciousness.

[Catwoman]

She had to admit it, the rich looked beautiful. And when it came down to it, so did alot of other things they posessed. Selina always did love things that glittered in the light, or were made of gold. Anything that could bring some fortune. And she had to admit something else, there was a certain charm about Mister Wayne that caught her own attentions. Why? She was unsure. She never really gave a second thought to men, they always seemed to disappoint her. But he, he was handsome and charming and well, there was something else about him that she couldn't put her little finger on. It was like he was hiding some dark secret, and ever more, some sorrowful pain.

She bid him a great evening before sauntering off with the gentleman at her arm. Finally some other blokes caught this man's attentions and she was able to free her arm in just enough time to place the empty glass on a tray that moved by. God, if only she could get away from him she would be happier. If only something would distract her. She had her plans for the night of course with him. He would invite her to his home, expect some type of payment in return for her being able to attend such a high function and in the end he would find himself a few thousand dollars poorer. The funny thing was, she was pinned alot, many many times when she hit someone she didn't like, someone who deserved to have everything taken away from them. And every time in the end, she was never charged. They could never find the loot and so no evidence was ever brought up. Just questions, always questions she calmly answered like a professional. Funny how easy it was to make it seem like someone broke into a house. A black suit was all that was ever needed, mask, sometimes two to make it look like there was two different people on the camera. They were always foolish really.

Her head turned slightly to the side, the smile played back over her face as she stared behind her. Back towards that man who caught her attentions, Bruce Wayne. She caught a glimpse and for once it wasn't just the riches he had that made her second look. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she watched something else, just passed him. A younger boy who occupied this household following a woman out. As he disappeared she heard a sudden shift in the room and loud voices from some of the people nearer to that area reached out. " Someone get that mangy fur ball out!" " It's going to destroy my dress!" " Get it away!" Selina saw what was the cause of the commotion. A small black cat had managed to escape inside and was bounding her way, scared more than anyone else. Quickly she turned and her arms flew down to wrap around the cat. Unlike everyone else who was moved back from it, she welcomed the little creature. When she brought her up to her chest, the small group around her stared with wide eyes and moved slightly away. Selina didn't care anymore, she just stood there stroking the cat, who seemed to calm and purr under the touch. Her head rubbing against Selina's face which only caused her to laugh gently. " Aren't you a beautiful little thing." Fine, they didn't want her around then she would go. Moving with the crowds releif towards the wall. She found a empty seat and took it. She wouldn't let anyone take the cat or harm her that was for sure. And the cat only seemed to warm up more.

It was odd though, that a cat managed to get inside. How? Did a door open somewhere and it smelled something delicious to try and steal. With that thought her head snapped up as the cat did the same. She thought she heard something, a yell at a far distance, but nothing else came after. Odd things were happening tonight that was for sure. And thanks to so much self training back in the Orphanage, her hearing was more advanced than mosts. Oh well, it was probably just a cat fight. She ignored whatever it might have been and put her attentions back to the cat. Such a delicate creature in a miserable world. Selina could always relate.

[Harvey Dent]

"Damnit... I need us to get out, I have plans for this city of Gotham... what do you say Harv... nice plans... BIG plans... we can do it together, Harv, we can get us to be kings of Gotham." He grinned before pulling his left arm high above him, the snap of the leather echoing in the empty room. "Oh, this feels good... freedom... here we go." His voice was a raspy growl. "Harvey Dent ... is no more, we're one person.. .but two as well..." Suddenly the sound of security guards filled the air. "Oh this will be sweet..." he growled as he let the rest of him go from the straps.

The entrance of the security guards, let him shine-not Harvey, but Two Face. "I need my air..." was all he said before pouncing on one guard and strangeling him with the sheet from the bed. The other guard fired two rounds, in which Two Face turned it around and put the other guard above him-taking each bullet in the back. His mangled hand drifted the the guard's side and grabbed the now dead guard's handgun. Pushing the dead guard off of him, he let go with three rounds into the head of the other guard, his aim perfect.

Slowly he stood and eyed the two guards before deciding on the one without the bullet holes in the back. Changing into the outfit he grinned before hiding the second gun. Before leaving the room that used to be his, he hid one guard in the corner and put the otherone on the bed, in a sleeping position. Petting he smirked, "That'll do, Pig, That'll do." then he took off down the corridors of the Asylum. The exit was swift and clean, no one questioning him.

~~~~

Days passed, he was back in his, well Two-face's hideout. His body was tired, they had been busy stealing and making back some money. "That works for you doesn't it Harve... this was a good week... you seem comfortable when sleeping... so I take it you like?"

"I like the freedom."

"No, I think you've been wondering how the other half lived for a long time. You wanted to know how it felt to steal to make a living, and now you know... I think you're addicted."

"SHUT UP!"

"NO! You love what we have been doing... you enjoy sleeping on your comfortable bed that was bought with stolen money. You enjoy this more than me, and you know it. We are one Harvey, you are as much me as I you."

"Shut up, Two-Face, we aren't the same person, I'm not like this. I'm a DA... I'm not a criminal."

"Oh trust me, you are. You always have been, and that's why we are in this position. WE'RE here because of your decisions... because you were crooked... so don't blame me, Harvey." One side couldn't take it, and you saw him drift back into his own world in his mind. You knew that Harvey Dent lost and Two Face won. God Help Us All

~~~

"ALRIGHT GOONS!" he announced to his followers. "We have a party to crash, at the good'ol Wayne Mannor... who's up for lots of dough? I know I am. And I think my pretties would love some new jewelery." He laughed slightly, as only Two-face could. Harvey had already lost the coin toss earlier. Two Face controled this idea. "We have old ladies, we have young ladies... old men and young men. TAKE EVERYTHING! Don't leave anything-except the cars... but we'll raid them later." He let go in a raspy laugh and began walking to his car that was driven by two other goons.

"Hi ho silver! Away!" The car was a mix of two colors, black and white. One side one color, the other obviously the other color. He smirked as he tossed his coin up and down. On one side of him, there was a dark haired beauty, wearing a skimpy outfit, while on the otherside, a woman who was a beautiful blonde wearing a flowing gown sat holding Harvey's arm. "We will get you two something beautiful my dears..."

He smirked some, one eye glancing towards the brunette, the other eye looking towards the blonde, which reminded him so much of his exwife. "Today, you will have a grand shopping spree my loves! And we will get you everything you desire and more." The car sped towards the Wayne Mannor, followed by four others packed tight with Goons.

As they pulled up, he was let out like a gentleman, smirking some was Two-face, holding the Brunette around the waist and the other side, Harvey, crooking his arm around the blondes. "Time to make our entrance Ladies!" Two-face grinned before two goons knocked down the door in front of him and he stepped through, eyeing Alfred now splat on the floor. "Why my good man, you look like you have been knocked straight on your ass!" He laughed before entering the main ballroom and smirking.

Pulling two .223 Remmington's, somehow Twoface was able to shoot them off at the same time. "Good Afternoon ladies and gents of the Wayne Mannor... it is time for you to put your trinkets on the floor and your hands in the air... this is what we call a hold up." His brows, or whatever was left of them, wiggled and he grinned wide. This would be a good haul.