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Last Edit: Aug 27, 2012 0:58:14 GMT -5 by vigilant
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Post by vigilant on Aug 27, 2012 0:57:35 GMT -5
It was one of the Dark Knight's earlier conquests. For weeks, the news raved about a rare piece of jewelry on display at the local museum. It was said to have been an ornament worn by a past queen; a queen from one of the most remote civilizations of old. It had arrived tonight, guarded by a whole entourage of policemen, and was set for display tomorrow. Then it would be whisked away to another city, made an exhibition of again, before it continued its journey through the states. Sojourn after sojourn, departure after departure. That meant some of Gotham's most daring crooks would come after it tonight. Perhaps that was why the museum itself was surrounded by a small legion of armed guards, men with big guns and sleepy eyes. Strangely enough, only a handful of men safeguarded the inside. Perhaps they thought that the museum, this makeshift castle for a former queen's treasure, was impenetrable. Perhaps they thought that no man would dare such an impossible feat.
Bruce remembered, at the time, that he believed so as well. But perhaps he was partially right. No man in his right mind would attempt such an impossible endeavor. That was why it was a woman who would eventually do so.
Crouched on the roof was the Dark Knight himself. Wide awake, unlike the guards underneath him. All chiseled muscles and black armor, like Goliath in a Spartan's costume. He seemed poised, crouched there, like a lion set to pounce. The white lens gave way to a set of fierce blue eyes, scrutinizing and keen as they counted the number of guards, made an inventory of their weapons, and peered out into the endless night. Perhaps this is what loneliness feels like. To be surrounded by people, but feel completely and utterly alone. But he was the Dark Knight, the ever vigilant, and if this is the price paid for Gotham's freedom, then so be it.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 28, 2012 17:11:19 GMT -5
She knew better. After years in Europe, years in boarding school, years on the street, she just knew better. Yes, she could do this sort of thing, yes, she had the skill, damn yes, she could get away with it. But still, in the depths of her mind's eye, she could still see her mentor shaking his head at what she was about to do. But how could she tell him it was a risk. A game of cat and mouse...she couldn't give up?
It had been months earlier, or maybe weeks. Every time she thought of him her heart started to pound. As she had been getting her toes...well, paws now...wet in the rooftops of Gotham, she'd first heard him. The dark masked man. Beating some sort of lowlife and stringing him up, leaving him. Batman the shrieks had said. Batman the papers had said. Batman...the dark, masked man had said. He'd almost caught her one night as she'd slipped in and out of a window; a home where she knew the vault would home several irreplaceable baubles that would soon be hers. And they were. No alarms had tipped her heist; she was that stealthy. But for a few weeks, she had evaded him somehow, still illusive, still...a game of cat and mouse.
She'd been able to pawn, save, and dream up her own outfit. It had to allow for movement. Cover. Warmth. Have a bit of sex appeal. She wanted her gadgets to still work. A bit of dreaming, and crisp cash had gotten her just what she had wanted. Several fittings, and she had nearly suffocated the man who'd artfully made what she could only describe, come to life.
And now, as Selina Kyle watched from an adjoining rooftop at Batman...she smiled again at the words she'd told the tailor. "If there is a Batman, why can't there be a Catwoman?"
But still, she knew it was almost...blatantly obvious to go after something so new in Gotham's museums. But hell, by day she'd already gone and admired the items, given she had been called in for a security consultation. A few glances and she had already spotted the gaping hole in their security detail, and yes, while she had gone to help correct that, she'd found at least 3 other holes she wasn't quite going to mention.
The jewels were insured. But that wasn't the point. It was to finally draw out this..man. The masked man, and see him face to face, finally.
And possibly make a name for herself, other than the highly successful, highly suspect, yet anonymous string of break-ins that no one could explain.
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Last Edit: Aug 28, 2012 20:17:56 GMT -5 by vigilant
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Post by vigilant on Aug 28, 2012 20:15:53 GMT -5
Déjà vu. A feeling of familiarity with something unfamiliar, alien, and strange. That was how he felt then. As though he was being watched. As though he was about to be ambushed. The sensation began as pinpricks along his neck, like the anxious scuttling of a half dozen spiders, or the ghastly fingers of a phantom on a harp. A poorly tuned harp, it seems. He rotated his neck this way and that, then heard it pop. The guards didn't hear. But for them, creatures that prowled the night and called it home, it was a deafening roar, like a gunshot in the middle of a library. Still, the guards remained listless, eyelids drooping with exhaustion as they muffled a yawn against their palms.
He wondered who would come tonight. They must know that if they failed now, they would never get a chance again. They must know that the Batman would be here. Batman, guardian of Gotham. Batman, the masked vigilante. Batman, the dark man with an even darker voice. But there was something else. Something that made his spine tingle and his heart pound. It reminded him oddly of the night at the theatre... An electrifying sense of destiny. Then, as though to distract himself, he thought of the recent reports regarding a crook. A burglar that snuck into the home of local residents, unsuspected. No face to the deeds. No name to the act.
So he did what he always did. He asked himself what he would do in their place. Then, as though the wheel of time had come to a halt, everything around him slowed. The guards underneath him, a blur. The museum, blanked out. The night, momentarily forgotten. Batman turned sharply, like an obsidian statue coming to life. His eyes, bright blue and cold as dry ice, became visible underneath the white lens as they fixed themselves on her. It was unclear whether he saw her or not, but underneath the cowl, his famous scowl darkened imperceptibly.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2012 14:09:17 GMT -5
Touching a finger to the pair of night-vision goggles, she watched him...watch her. A coy smile drew her lips upward as she could see the change in him. He knew she was out there, just not where. Perfect. There was a shift, something that set the hair on the back of her neck alive. Well, if he was ready, so was she. The smallest blink, and she almost missed the white lenses slip back, revealing the most quixotic pair of blue irises she'd seen. Hm. Now now, she couldn't get distracted by the man dressed as a Bat, come to play tonight, she told herself.
So as she took in a breath, refocused, and centered herself, Catwoman shifted in the shadows, carefully lifting a grate and slipping into the air ducts of the museum. It was cramped, of course, but her new suit helped her glide through the vents, away from the display. She had to set up a few ...toys, first. One was already set, placed during the daylight hours. Now, to set up another. It didn't take her long to make sure the small explosive was set near a different door, something that when triggered, would discharge smoke, enabling the room she was to be in to be locked down. Minimal guards, and bingo.
Bat encounter.
Smiling, she quickly squirmed and crawled back to the main vent, taking another detour before she depressed a small remote, the beeping horn of a fire alarm starting, and the hurried yelling of guards. 75 more seconds, and she could get down, and the pendant would be her own.
...and there it was. The automatic fire door closing off the room....45 seconds...
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Post by vigilant on Aug 29, 2012 23:57:52 GMT -5
It was like a carefully orchestrated dance. As she inhaled, so did he. Like two parts of a complete whole, both of them lifted the grate in unison, and slipped quietly into the museum. He was much broader than she, a titan in pitch black armor, but he managed. The ducts sighed heavily, trembling under the duress of his weight, like a house of cards on the verge of collapse. He could hear the guards, squawking like a flock of flustered and frustrated geese as they called for help. The alarm blared, screeching so loudly that he thought his eardrums would burst. Yelling, men trying to barge their way through the closed door. Chaos. Absolute chaos.
Exactly what the thief wanted.
But she wasn't the only one who had studied the museum's blueprint. She wasn't the only one who made it a point to memorize every single detail, down to the most infinitesimal speck. And she certainly wasn't the only one determined to emerge victorious tonight. So he scrambled, forcing himself through, ignoring the discomfort that marched in around him in the form of enclosed walls, like stampeding soldiers coated in metal and plastic, rubber and glass.
He arrived the same time she did. Whereas her descent might have been nimble and lithe, cat-like, his was silent and suave, like a shadow as it passes over a woman's face. His scowl was horrendous, bright red against the inky black backdrop of his mask. Cape was drawn close, his figure imposing and his glare menacing as he stood before the jewel, declaring his intent. Outside, the guards were in an uproar, the officers amongst them barking out orders and already making excuses. But here, in this room where smoke snaked along the edges like the frills on a curtain, it was almost quiet.
Almost, except for the sound of his breathing, heavy from his clamor through the roof. Hoarse, from the anger that began as embers in his belly. Masculine, because he was a Man amongst men, Gotham’s Dark Knight in the flesh.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2012 20:29:44 GMT -5
He didn't get it. Men that thought in such black and whites never did. She wasn't here to win tonight. There would be no winner. Even as she had slipped from her hiding spot, grasping the rope she'd tied inside the vent, and landed to the ground in a crouch in the shadows; she could see him.
And how he'd gotten here, same timing, same irritating damn timing, same room, irritated her. He was good. That was sad, and exhilarating at the same time. A second, maybe two passed as her own green eyes took in the tall, pissed off looking drink of water before her. Her gaze flicked over the graphite ears, the cape drawn about him, the black on black on black on scowl look he was going for. At least it was skin tight, much like her own head to toe leather getup.
Green eyes met those pissy blue ones, and she did what any woman in her right mind would. She smiled.
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Last Edit: Aug 31, 2012 1:28:34 GMT -5 by vigilant
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Post by vigilant on Aug 31, 2012 1:08:09 GMT -5
The thing about winning is that everyone loses sometime. You just have to hope it's a loss you can handle, and the scoreboard ranks in your favor. Batman still remembered his first few nights. A crowbar to the head. A taser into his back. Muscles cramping, sweat pouring, blood gushing. Waiting. Waiting for the sun to rise, finding comfort in the knowledge that he would live to see another day. Another sunrise. Another of Gotham's beautiful skylines. Eventually, he learned. He learned how to stare into a man's eyes and make his blood run cold. He learned how to swoop in on them, like a monster in the night. He learned how to reach into the moist, soft spot in their center, squeeze with phantom hands, and make them scream silently for it to end. He was a walking nightmare, and that was exactly how he had protected his city.
But something wasn't right. He could see it in her eyes that she wasn't scared. That those bright emerald shards displayed an emotion that even the Batman himself was unaccustomed to: amusement. He took a moment to soak in the cat ears, the skin-tight bodysuit, and the curved lines of a woman's figure. When she smiled at him, he could feel the line of his jaw tightening, like a rubber band pulled taut. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel the tingle, like a woman's fingers spinning pirouettes down his spine. She was clever. Clever enough to match him thought for thought, to be his mirror opposite, in feminine form. Batman found this oddly exhilarating. A fresh taste of spring air, in Gotham's dark, smog-covered sky. But he also found her wit infuriating.
"You best leave."
A growl, rumbling like thunder in the depths of his throat. Underneath the cape, his hand snuck towards his belt, found his batarang, and closed around it slowly. He knew his words would not dissuade her. They had matched each other, thought for thought, deed for deed. She was obviously intelligent, and extremely competent. It wasn't likely that she'd give up without a fight. So Batman prepared, ready for the worse, and expecting no less.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2012 21:40:35 GMT -5
Oh. That's what he was going to do? Point out the obvious? No "What you're doing is illegal?" crap? Batting her lashes, Catwoman tipped her head to the side, peering at him much like her own feline Jasper, would, and then let out a laugh.
"Batman, is it?" She murmured, closing the distance between them with several smooth, calculated strides. Her fingertip reached out to run along his cape, if he'd allow her. "It's nice to meet the man behind the mask, the name...all that rotten press in the Gazette, you know." Glancing up, and yes, it was up at him, she just shook her head, and withdrew her hand.
"You're a gentleman to alert me that I should leave, but, as you can see, the guards are a bit...well, preoccupied." Shrugging, she took a quarter step to her right, and motioned to the pendant. "And I have to grab something before I leave, but you must've known that, right?" She teased him.
Slowly lowering herself to the podium the glass case was placed upon, she depressed a hidden panel, and quickly used a claw to cut a wire, which she quickly tied to another in seconds. Peering around the podium, green eyes would meet his again, glinting.
"Unless, you are here to help me out, Stud?" She murmured again, removing a small canister from her belt, and dispersing a small cloud against the glass, which she tapped once, before it cracked and shattered a small hole in the glass. The commotion in the other rooms grew louder as she withdrew the pendant, and slipped it into her bag with ease, and then stood. Locking her fingertips with one another, then lifting them over her head, she arched her back, stretching.
"And to think that Gotham would have better security...." She mused to herself, easing her back straight.
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Last Edit: Sept 1, 2012 1:30:10 GMT -5 by vigilant
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Post by vigilant on Sept 1, 2012 1:06:18 GMT -5
What happens if an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A universe which contains one cannot possess the other. At least, not separately. That was how Batman felt then. Like they were two opposing forces, meeting for the first time, both refusing to budge, neither agreeing to relent. But all along, they were one and the same. Two sides of a coin. Two halves of a whole. But he didn't know that yet. Not then. The only thing he was aware of was the strange sense of destiny that came in the form of phantom hands down his spine and pin pricks behind his eyelids. That something inexplicable was pulling him stumbling forward, and he was in over his head, like a man dragged into sea.
Perhaps that was why he was so still. So quiet. Whereas she was nimble-footed and agile, he was motionless, a statue carved in stone. The only indication that he was alive, that there was a pulse beating behind the sleek armor and chiseled muscle, was the way his eyes flitted after her, watchful, ever vigilant. For now, he merely drank in the sight of her, savoring tastefully the leather-clad woman twirling pirouettes around him with the grace of a preening feline. But if she could see him underneath the cape, she'd realize that there was never a question how this night would end, and he was not just a mass of solid muscle, but the very image of liquid power.
Then she stretched, and he was upon her. A hawk swooping down on unsuspecting prey. A bat plunging mid-dive for a taste of Eden's forbidden fruit. His hand snatched her by the waist, and whisked her off her feet. Bodies compressed, the bold lines of his figure contrasting sharply against her feminine curves. His fingers trailed down, spinning patterns over her skin-tight suit, before his palm came to rest on the ridge of her hips. He could smell her, the aroma rolling in waves from her hair, the feminine scent that eked naturally from her pores. His grip wasn't hard, but it was firm; his way of letting her know who was in charge. When he spoke, it was in a rumbling snarl, close, oh so close, to her ear.
"And you must be Catwoman."
In that instant, he gave a name to the masked face. An alias to the cat-like grace and feline ears and strutting walk. Perhaps it was his way of establishing dominance over her. The same way a man takes an abandoned kitten in from the streets and slaps on it a name, and declares it his pet. But he wasn't done. As he held her, the heat woven into his breath rolled across her skin in hot, roiling waves, like a tongue of flames, his hand reached into her bag to retrieve the jewel. It was almost laughable, the casual way he procured the prized gem, as though it had been his to take all along, and that he was in no worry of a rush.
"But this isn't yours to take."
Then he released her, just as a barrage of guards barreled through the door and came charging in towards them.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2012 17:54:36 GMT -5
For all her planning, her careful, tedious planning, she hadn't thought he'd just stand there. Or stood there. Until she had the pedant in hand, then bag, and then....she couldn't think.
Most of her prior break ins had been with her old partner, and then later on when she had gone solo. Never was there another person to contend with, talk with, banter with, compete with, or....dare she even think it, flirt with. But even as she'd gone over the news reports, the papers, the gossip rags, even while she'd twirled at the balls and benefits, she'd thought of this one...creature. Maybe he was a man, just as she was a woman, but he got it. He understood the draw of the darkness; of that time right after sunset that woke up a deep spark in the soul, that called one out to the rooftops of Gotham.
Clearly it was for different reasons; her's to take, his to enforce. But at least she'd taken the time to orchestrate a meeting, for once. Considering she'd clearly eluded him night after night, their little cat and bat games continuing through the skyline until dusk.
It wasn't always a clear look. It was more a feeling. How she knew he had been there, not watching, or maybe watching, but not seeing her in the dark. But no matter what had happened prior, he had finally bridged the gap of space between them; even as he watched her purloin the artifact, and then he moved.
And move he did, barely taking into account her height, or weight. She was merely palmed, his hand splaying across her hip, her low slung belt, and forced into his chest. A heartbeat once, twice, and her legs wrapped around his waist while he almost, almost was petting her like a pet. Her own clawed fingertip went to the bareness of skin at his jaw; the only humane aspect he dared reveal with all the darkness that was his own façade.
She knew he was affected. Otherwise he would have used his cuffs, or any other assortment of curious gadgetry at his waist. Her own left thigh had a rather precocious whip secured to it. Access to it was as simple as releasing the snap. Running her thumb along his jaw, her green eyes sought out those blue ones of his. Were they contacts, or really just that altruistic?
"That would be me. Nice of you to finally notice, Dark Knight..." She purred, voice low. Pulling away from his chest slightly, she patted his cheek almost mockingly. "Took you long enough..." She added, fully aware of his hand going into her bag, and pulling out the pendant. Smilingly coyly as he stole it from her, she just offered a rather luscious pout, her lips pressed together, and turned down.
"Neither is it your's, Batman...." She murmured, sensing the slightest muscle twitch before he released her, a coolness returning to her skin as they parted their embrace, and her boots hit the floor once more. It took her three quick strides to return to her own rope, which she paused, holding up a rather small trio of bat-shaped objects, before winking at him, and shimmying up effortlessly and back into the vent, and later, back to the rooftop.
But there were still the oddest of lingering questions. Why the close contact? Why had he watched her steal? Why....had he let her go? Especially considering he had easily taken her bait, and 'stolen' from her the fake pendant she'd had in the main compartment of her own bag. As she crouched in the darkness, she barely had a moment to ponder more before heading away from the noise below her.
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Post by vigilant on Sept 2, 2012 14:46:52 GMT -5
He touched her, each stroke of his finger replete with self-denial and self-subjugation. The restraint of a man attempting to keep himself in check. His lips were austere, a harsh line wrought in granite, unmoving as her steel claws pawed with subdued lethality against them. But underneath the layer of skin, bone, and sinew, an armor which hid him just as well as the padded suit on his back, his insides roared, enlivened by the inexplicable pull of her flesh against his, like the moon as it tugs at the sea. He didn't understand it. Not then. But given time, when he pores over the Gotham skyline and catches a glimpse of a cat-shaped shadow flitting amongst the alleyways, he would recognize it for what it was: a lethal dose of instant attraction. Perhaps then, he would realize that she was not so unlike him, a creature that prowls the night and seeks comfort in darkness. A creature that finds solace from the aching deep inside in the whisper of wind against empty rooftops.
For an instant, their eyes locked. Polished emerald against jagged cold, a wildfire consumed in ice. Little did he know that he would remember her eyes for many nights to come, see it in the form of distant stars on Gotham's skyline, winking down at him the same way she did now, as she quickly made her escape. He tore his eyes from her diminishing figure to gaze down at the retrieved pendant. It took no more than a second for Batman to realize that it was a fake. He could hear the roar of the guards behind him, and footsteps clattering heavily across the floor as they charged like a herd of stampeding oxen. There was little time left. Not enough to fume. Definitely not enough to brood.
But man, was he pissed.
Whipping out his grapple gun, Batman fired into the vent. His aim was faultless. It latched onto something, a minuscule detail he had noticed on his way down. His body swung skyward, before he dived gracefully into the vent, like a fish into water. Off he went, back the way he came, hot in pursuit of the woman who had stolen from him his gadgets, his prize, and his dignity.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2012 17:17:19 GMT -5
There was the odd metallic ting. The grunting she heard mixed in with the sirens, the haphazard screaming of the guards, and of course, the alarm. Shrugging as she re-secured the pendant in her bag, she stretched first her back, then her arms. She didn't have much time if she wanted a lead of any sorts.
And the adrenaline coursing through her veins was not a thing to waste. Thumbing the snap at her hip, she took one step, then another quicker, until she was sprinting to the edge of the rooftop; another within view. Her left arm rose, her wrist snapping as her whip cracked once; a clue for her pursuer, before she neatly dropped down into the darkness, curious to see if he'd follow her. And then to see if he'd follow in the right direction...
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Last Edit: Sept 6, 2012 10:48:48 GMT -5 by vigilant
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Post by vigilant on Sept 6, 2012 0:20:31 GMT -5
Batman stalked her, like a second shadow. Through the vents, back onto the roof, where he heard the enchanting whisper of cool air and open space, like a siren's song. But still, his blood boiled. He was Gotham's Dark Knight. For years, he has cast his shadow, fearsome and ominous, across the Gotham skyline. His name was scrawled across the ground, a symbol of hope for the just, a signature of terror against the wicked. But here she was, strutting about without a care, making a fool out of him. No, Batman will not be outsmarted or outplayed. Not now. By the time she made her descent, he was only a few steps behind her. He could smell her, and the thin layer of perfume permeating from her flesh, a scent that he would recognize anywhere. Like a hound pursuing prey, he was relentless, driven by a hunger that took the form of a dark aching deep inside. It went beyond the jewel. She had made a fool out of him, and nearly, oh, so nearly, outwitted him. No, this is about dominance. She dropped, like a deep-sea diver into the ocean. His descent was more turbulent. No pause. No hesitation. Just his body, cape drawn close, diving into the night like an Olympic swimmer into water. Powerful, but crisp. But still, she remained a few steps ahead of him... That is, until he fired his grapple gun. It made a sharp, screeching sound as the metal bit into cement. Batman accelerated, blazing through the air at breakneck speeds, like a missile set to collide. For an instant, he passed her, and their eyes locked. Blue fire, green diamond. Then his arms wound around her waist, yanking her against him. Their bodies collided, hips bumping, the heat generated from their flesh coalescing as one. At the rate they were going, they'd sooner hit the ground like a bug on windshield than whisper goodbye. Then he fired the second gun. She'd feel it against her ribs, the cold metal, the hard, sleek outline, held in the hand closest to her. Sparks flew up above like silver glitter as the metal protested. Then they made a sharp arc through the air, and landed on the opposing rooftop. For a second, Batman paused, not to gasp for breath, but to drink in the sight of her so close to him. It was astounding, really. Most men would be doubled over, retching from the sort of stunt he had just pulled. Triple somersaults in the stomach, disorientation, vertigo sinking its fanged jaws into their gut... But for Batman, there was nothing. Only a cold, eerie calm. "Why the hurry?" He still held her against him, but this time, their cowled foreheads touched. His eyes were fierce. Angry. Lips austere, set in a ferocious scowl. His other hand held hers, slowly freeing her fingers from the whip, before he slipped it back against her thigh. There, his fingers lingered, tracing abstract images against the skintight fabric. "You didn't even say goodbye." |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 9, 2012 13:21:38 GMT -5
The decent was always a rush. The step off into nothingness, however many stories above Gotham she chose. Thankfully she'd not sustained many injuries, and her skills had been honed overseas. It was always a new experience when acclimating to a different city. Not a new city, but a different one.
Taking into the wind, her hand gripping her whip in case of need, she was ready. Until she hit the wall of muscle, and for a few moments she couldn't breathe; the air had been plucked from her lungs as she had glanced up. Blue eyes. Then...nothing. Her lungs were betraying her as she struggled, held close to the second body skilled enough to traipse throughout Gotham's skyline as she did.
Batman.
Bringing her legs up, she wrapped them about his waist as he swung through the night, claws extending and digging into...whatever sort of casing he liked to pour himself into. She was holding on tight, and not about to let go. Her going through the night on her own skill was one thing. Swinging through the air with someone else; entirely different. She peered between them as she felt something hard..Oh. He had two guns, the second discharging as their trajectory shifted, and soon enough she could breath again; and their feet were on solid ground.
There was silence for a bit, eyes hungry, his seeking for some sort of answer, a reply in her own. She not giving anything, but a seeking glance in return. She was close enough she could smell...something. A colonge, some sort of leather and man-made fabric. It was a heady mix. And the anger. He tried to hide it, but she could see it, as much as he tried to hide it beneath his cool facade. He must've figured out the fake.
"I don't much like those men in blue. I prefer....black..." She murmured, pulling her forehead away from his, a claw going to trace the barely raised insignia on his chest. Once, then twice before she met his eyes.
Raising a brow at his....schoolboy tone, his asking her why she didn't say goodbye, she was shocked. A goodbye? What did this man want? Unwrapping herself from his tall frame, she let her feet hit solid ground, and put a hairsbreadth of distance between them.
"I didn't know you wanted a goodbye." She murmured.
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Last Edit: Sept 9, 2012 19:10:46 GMT -5 by vigilant
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Post by vigilant on Sept 9, 2012 18:27:13 GMT -5
I don't know what I want. The words hung suspended, like a leaf in a tempest, against his throat. In that instant, he saw Bruce the boy, the helpless, powerless little boy who watched, frozen, as his world crumbled around him. The magnitude of the situations stood on opposite spectrums, but the helplessness was the same. He found the words, flashing like neon lights in his brain, before his eyes, waiting for phantom fingers to pry them from his chest. But he couldn't say a word. His lips were frozen, tinted a light blue, the only way his body ever betrayed his humanity. Suddenly, he reverted back to being a statue; a chiseled figure wrought in granite, what was once a white knight dipped in black. He had glanced away, for an instant. But when his gaze found hers, she would find a different hunger there. This one went deeper. It gave her a fleeting glimpse into the vast cosmos inside him, those brooding, swirling blue nebulas... It was the look of a man scouring the heavens for deliverance from this hellish perdition, a man demanding answers from the universe. Answers that, unbeknownst to him, could only be found inside. "Well?" A growl. Graveled baritone, threatening and deep. It traveled the hairbreadth of distance between them, fluttered like a butterfly in the wind, before he slipped closer. Hand cupped her chin, thumb sought her lips. Would she feel the tremulous pulse beating like a war-drum against her mouth? The rush of blood, the surge of adrenaline. His other hand had flitted, like a shadow, from his waist to her own, so his knuckles could rub absently against the raised ridge of her hips. Still, his eyes remained fixed on hers, as though the world had become a strange and foreign place, and she was his anchor against this unknown reality. "Goodbye, kitten." Whether she made a reply or not, he was off. Swinging through the air, grapple gun fired into the distance. On his other hand, the one that had grazed her hip and whispered to it in a wordless tongue replete with desire and need, held her satchel. She would find the straps that held it to her shoulder severed. A quick rewind would show his hand passing from his utility belt, procuring a knife, to her waist. His hand had been steady, surprisingly so because his heart was so feverish. Then he fired his grappling gun, snatched the satchel, and ripped it from the Velcro that bound it to her body. Just like that, the Dark Knight made his escape, pride intact, prize taken, pleased as a pussycat. Oh, and she thought she was the only clever one... |
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