fille_fatale | ( IC CONTACT )

[[Continuation from here]]

Of course not. One of them tried to get us into a club with his influence, but the bouncer turned him away. He was being a jerk, so I decided to buy the club myself and invite everyone in except for him.

Things did not go well with Constantine, and that was only the beginning. Going home was her number one priority, but the price was too high. When it came down to it, Selina has always lived by one rule: look out for herself. And the prospect of some apparently all powerful stranger fucking around in her head, taking her memories, was not looking out for number one. The whole thing came to a close when she tried to punch Constantine, and with the attempt her chance to go home evaporated.

She didn't trust it, at first. Why believe some creep who had just wanted to mess with her memory? Selina told herself that she left to find other possibilities, other roads home, but the real reason was Bruce. She may be trapped in his world, but she didn't have to be trapped in his home, staring every day at a gutted manor that would always make her think of the one she remembered scaling, dealing with his quiet moodiness.

No thank you. She had to know she could fall on her feet, even here.

It made the prospect of leaving Gotham easier - especially since she took the Aston Martin with her, pawned it for too little because of the scratch and the dent she'd left in it. It still funded her through a few cities - Metropolis first, where she had to learn what the hell a Kryptonian was, and then New York City, which wasn't bad, but it wasn't home. She even headed to Chicago, and would have headed for Miami if the money from the car hadn't run out.

The important thing was that there wasn't another option. No other way home. Nothing. She'd had that feeling all along, but the really important thing was that none of them were Gotham. None of them felt like they could even become home. Stubbornness keeps her away longer than she wants to, and it becomes a rhythm that carries her through five years. When her twenty-first birthday comes around, she realizes that she wouldn't need a fake ID anymore, except for the fact that the Selina Kyle of this world has been dead for almost a decade. Her license (a fake she picked up in New York) says Cat Pepper on it, in memory of Ivy. It's about as much sentiment as she allows herself; thinking about the few people she left behind doesn't even bother her anymore.

She tells herself that until she believes it.

When she gets off the bus in Gotham, she breathes deep and shakes her head at the smell: at least that is still the same. But there are differences, of course; she's different. She's not a street kid anymore, and any leeway she had out here thanks to her age is gone. It's okay, though: Barbara Kean told her once that she was pretty, and that it should be her first weapon. She still carries a switch blade, but she understands the lesson better, now.

She carries something else, too, but that only gets retrieved at night, when she goes to work. Not many people talk, but the ones who mutter to nurses in emergency rooms mention some crazy bitch with a whip.

It's not just robbing bookies anymore: she's done with just surviving. The problem with moving up in the underworld in this Gotham is that she doesn't know all the players, yet. It takes time, a couple months, before she's satisfied that the jeweler she robs isn't protected by anyone that can get to her easy. Finding a fence is a little easier: no matter the universe, that's a world she knows how to navigate. Finding a good price takes some aggressive negotiating, but she's not a kid with no hope of taking on a little muscle, anymore. She gets by.

So she's doing some actual legal shopping - with less than legal cash - when she spots him for the first time. It turns something in her, and before Selina can decide if it's anger or satisfaction or nostalgia, she heads for him and puts a pair of very expensive shoes in front of the cashier he's at.

"He'll get these for me."

The idea of him paying for things doesn't bother her so much, now. Maybe it's because she could absolutely pay for them herself, but she doesn't spend too much time considering it.

The Admiral has paired us for this month, would you like to meet in the mess hall, on deck, or in the Enclosure to talk?

Your warden is in the infirmary. He was killed some minutes ago. He'll wake up in a few hours.

I'll be here until then.

do you like jewels you seem like you would like jewels

Edited 2018-10-04 04:32 (UTC)

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for bought_the_bank