Batman Fan Fiction ❯ Catwoman: The Tamer ❯ Patrol ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: tory-steller 
Gotham's sexiest duo head out on patrol.
Non Anime: Batman Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.06.2014 | Updated On: 03.06.2014 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 325 | Status: Completed
Gotham's sexiest duo head out on patrol.
Non Anime: Batman Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.06.2014 | Updated On: 03.06.2014 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 325 | Status: Completed
Patrol
We were out on our nightly patrol, using the only reliable method of transportation in this overcrowded city; leaping rooftop to rooftop. The night's air kissed my face through the leather mask as I floated freely forward until my heel touched down on solid concrete. I continued on with my momentum leading my hips forward, and he remained no less than two footsteps behind me.
It was always such a rush to run alongside him, since even without possessing special attributes like my own, he was the only man I knew who could keep up with me. At least, the only man without some kind of hideous deformity or massive mental disconnect from reality.
Still, the rush failed to compare to the high-level thrill of a good hunt. Disappointingly, the uneventful night had given us no crooks to collar or purrsue. By the time the clock struck midnight, I was willing some crime-related excitement to spring up. If my frustration wasn't relieved soon, I'd have to find more imaginative ways to get my heart racing.
As if fate decided to intervene and soothe my own purrsonal urges, the cry for help from the alley below caught our attention. It was a woman's voice, run ragged from distress and lack of breath. Without missing a beat, my partner and I immediately changed course.
We arrived at the scene in a matter of moments, but chose to remain hidden in the shadows to assess the situation first; or he did anyway. By now I was familiar with how he operated, all stealth ninja style, but it didn't really mesh with my purrsonality. Sure, when the time calls for it, I'm all for sneaking around; during a jewel heist being a purrime example. If security guards or police are looking for me, you can bet the cat moves impurrceptibly.
None of that applied to tonight however, and I felt eager to pounce on an unsuspecting rat. I needed to sink my claws in something and give it a long, bloody scratching, and the jerk harasser below seemed to be the most purromising candidate around. With a hungry meow I launched into action, ignoring his calls of my name and orders to wait.
I landed purrfectly atop my target's head, boots clacking not-so-harmlessly against his skull. With inhuman grace, I propelled my body into the air, turning his flimsy neck into a diving board to somersault backward. My heels touched down next to the rescued victim and I looked down at her cowering figure with a smile.
"W-what the hell was that?" the mugger stuttered with a pathetic lack of eloquence. I granted him a glance, considered his bleeding, head-hugging position on his ass and decided he was no longer an urgent concern to me or my panicked party. Still in a playful mood, I tutted my disapproval.
"You should feel pretty silly, trying to catch a falling feline from the sky. We always land on our feet, you know." The last bit I added for the sake of the girl at my side. She was shivering like a leaf in the wind as I inspected her skin for any bruises or cuts. Once I was satisfied that the oaf had caused no visible harm to her, I turned to him again, just in time to see the gun retrieved from its holster.
"Ah... ripped whiskers!" I managed to exclaim while moving out of the way. I picked the timid thing up from under her wobbling legs and started to run, just as the familiar whoosh of sliced air soared overhead and stuck sharply into the thug's arm. He let out a shriek just before the gun went off. His aim was diverted into the air, and a cloaked figure swung valiantly towards him to deliver a finishing dropkick.
Our assailant went careening into the bricks, smacking his head against the wall with an audible thud. Our protector on the other hand stood proudly before us, no doubt marveling in the glory brought on by his accomplishment. I put the shaking girl down and turned to greet my playmate's somber scowl. A look that could kill from eyes that were to die for; it was impossible not to be immobilized on the spot.
"I told you to wait." I'm embarrassed to admit that the deep grumble left me flustered. Memories of that same gravelly voice cooing sweet nothings in my ear made my spine tingle. Cats don't come when they're called, the feline in me demanded I protest, but it seemed she had caught her own proverbial tongue for once, and I gave as innocent a shrug as I could manage as a response.
"No use complaining when the cream's already been spilled out the bottle. Besides, I saved the girl without any trouble at all. Mission accomplished, right?" My words did little to ease his intense, scrutinizing glare. His eyes took all of me in, leaving me nothing but silent. Without warning to me or his targets, he sprang into action. His gloved hand seized his weapons of choice, and flung them into the dark in the direction of the open alleyway. A short moment after they detonated, he turned to me, his mask only accenting the stern disapproval as a few nearly invisible enemies fell to the ground behind him, slightly singed and unconscious.
"There's no trouble in being surrounded by goons with high-tech cloaking devices and deadly plasma rifles?" His voice sent scolding ice water pumping through my veins and I stood my full height to stop myself from shivering. It also worked to mask the shamefully apparent intimidation in my stance. I watched a bit anxiously as he moved closer; a fluent shadow shrouded in darkness approaching for mysterious reasons, but his advances stopped just a breath short of smothering me in his massive presence.
A sudden, indescribable movement from him, far from just a subtle twitch, and I let loose a humiliatingly feeble squeak and flinched. By the time I finished blinking he was gone, disappearing back into his comfort zone, concealed by the night to move unseen. He barked something unintelligible at me in that rugged, desert sand-like voice, but I might have simply blocked it out because it was a command. I have problems with commands; following orders isn't part of my skill set.
"Grab the girl and move!" he had shouted just before taking cover and all hell broke loose. Blasts were fired off, walls were blown apart, and playing above all the other noises, like a nail being driven through my ears, was the shrill, sanity-shredding shout of a woman terrified.
Weathering the chaos, I finally realized we were under attack. The action had my adrenaline spiked as the quiet alley suddenly erupted into a war zone. Under normal circumstances I would have endured the frightened scream echoing in my ear and joined the fray, but the shrieking thing at my side needed protection.
Not wanting to use my body as a human shield, I snatched her up, placed a palm over her mouth to shush her, and carried her away from the fight. My partner in justice wasted no time subduing the baddies behind us. We made it inside a clichéd abandoned factory, filled with rusting metal and splashes of silhouetting darkness under flickering red lights high above. I stood her against a corroding wall, removed my glove from her slimy lips and finally got a chance to examine her closely.
She looked small and frail with her flimsy frame balled into itself like that, yet not short or overly skinny. Her hair was a puffy red mess. The blue-tinted glasses kept me from having a clear view of what lay beneath them. I solved that by removing them, much to her passive protest, but she didn't fight me when I lifted her chin up to see those beautiful light-browns stare up at me.
It wasn't the sight of her that caught the curious cat's eye so to speak, but the alluring aroma. Her scent invaded my nose and possessed my mind after just the first sniff. It was not an overpowering flowery fragrance you might expect from a flaunter of purrfume, but more of a warm, mouth-watering, sugary smell; sweet, inviting, delicious. Before my rational mind knew it, my tongue was stuck to her cheek trying to lick up a sample of her sweetness.
"Oh, goodness," I regained my senses and snapped my head away, shocked at the lack of self-control I displayed. I felt mortified and blushed a bit to show it. She didn't seem to care much about my outburst however. In fact, her reaction was :meows: purriceless.
Timid fingertips gently touched the wet spot I imprinted on her cheek. Her simmering cinnamon eyes transfixed directly on mine and her hand moved gingerly to her lips. I watched with purrverse interest as she tasted whatever traces I'd left behind. The cinnamon orbs smiled at me. For a moment I was taken aback, but once her hand fell limply to her side, the predator I saw caged behind those eyes evaporated and I regained my composure.
"So, what's your story, honey?" I astonished myself with my coolness. I feel a lesser feline might have tripped over her words. I have a problem with appearing weak. Vulnerability is not my thing, unless I'm using it to get what I want, as I often do. "You wanna tell me why all those big bad men were after little old you? They looked pretty serious."
"No need for an interrogation now, I've already squeezed out a confession," his brash voice interjected. I couldn't tell when he got there, but he was standing right behind me, and his presence demanded attention.
"Her name is Dr. Allison Zion, the remaining third of a group of researchers testing experimental drugs in the form of artificial pheromones. Judging by how unresponsive she is, I suspect she is on the drug now." Ignoring my subtle protest, my "natural ray of sunshine" moved in closer to the silent monster to give her a brief physical examination.
A few seconds later, he deduced, "She is definitely showing symptoms of substance abuse. I'll have to take her back to the Batcave, run some tests and hopefully reverse any damage done so we can get some answers." He clicked a button on his utility belt that would call his car to him. A supersonic jet car would only take a few seconds to get here, and that's all it took to be completely dismissed.
"Should I ride along with you?" I asked as optimistically as I get. He of course declined, shooting my hopes down with a bazooka.
"No," he answered with an air of absolution. "The Batmobile only seats two. Besides, these tests could take all night to get done. I'll call you if anything develops. And maybe in the meantime you'll learn a little restraint and not rush in to claw up the bait."
Utterly dejected, I hissed down at his footprints. And he was gone with her, on his way to his silly hole in the wall hideout. But if he thought he could get away with pissing off a cat without an apology, he had something deadly on its way to pay a visit.
We were out on our nightly patrol, using the only reliable method of transportation in this overcrowded city; leaping rooftop to rooftop. The night's air kissed my face through the leather mask as I floated freely forward until my heel touched down on solid concrete. I continued on with my momentum leading my hips forward, and he remained no less than two footsteps behind me.
It was always such a rush to run alongside him, since even without possessing special attributes like my own, he was the only man I knew who could keep up with me. At least, the only man without some kind of hideous deformity or massive mental disconnect from reality.
Still, the rush failed to compare to the high-level thrill of a good hunt. Disappointingly, the uneventful night had given us no crooks to collar or purrsue. By the time the clock struck midnight, I was willing some crime-related excitement to spring up. If my frustration wasn't relieved soon, I'd have to find more imaginative ways to get my heart racing.
As if fate decided to intervene and soothe my own purrsonal urges, the cry for help from the alley below caught our attention. It was a woman's voice, run ragged from distress and lack of breath. Without missing a beat, my partner and I immediately changed course.
We arrived at the scene in a matter of moments, but chose to remain hidden in the shadows to assess the situation first; or he did anyway. By now I was familiar with how he operated, all stealth ninja style, but it didn't really mesh with my purrsonality. Sure, when the time calls for it, I'm all for sneaking around; during a jewel heist being a purrime example. If security guards or police are looking for me, you can bet the cat moves impurrceptibly.
None of that applied to tonight however, and I felt eager to pounce on an unsuspecting rat. I needed to sink my claws in something and give it a long, bloody scratching, and the jerk harasser below seemed to be the most purromising candidate around. With a hungry meow I launched into action, ignoring his calls of my name and orders to wait.
I landed purrfectly atop my target's head, boots clacking not-so-harmlessly against his skull. With inhuman grace, I propelled my body into the air, turning his flimsy neck into a diving board to somersault backward. My heels touched down next to the rescued victim and I looked down at her cowering figure with a smile.
"W-what the hell was that?" the mugger stuttered with a pathetic lack of eloquence. I granted him a glance, considered his bleeding, head-hugging position on his ass and decided he was no longer an urgent concern to me or my panicked party. Still in a playful mood, I tutted my disapproval.
"You should feel pretty silly, trying to catch a falling feline from the sky. We always land on our feet, you know." The last bit I added for the sake of the girl at my side. She was shivering like a leaf in the wind as I inspected her skin for any bruises or cuts. Once I was satisfied that the oaf had caused no visible harm to her, I turned to him again, just in time to see the gun retrieved from its holster.
"Ah... ripped whiskers!" I managed to exclaim while moving out of the way. I picked the timid thing up from under her wobbling legs and started to run, just as the familiar whoosh of sliced air soared overhead and stuck sharply into the thug's arm. He let out a shriek just before the gun went off. His aim was diverted into the air, and a cloaked figure swung valiantly towards him to deliver a finishing dropkick.
Our assailant went careening into the bricks, smacking his head against the wall with an audible thud. Our protector on the other hand stood proudly before us, no doubt marveling in the glory brought on by his accomplishment. I put the shaking girl down and turned to greet my playmate's somber scowl. A look that could kill from eyes that were to die for; it was impossible not to be immobilized on the spot.
"I told you to wait." I'm embarrassed to admit that the deep grumble left me flustered. Memories of that same gravelly voice cooing sweet nothings in my ear made my spine tingle. Cats don't come when they're called, the feline in me demanded I protest, but it seemed she had caught her own proverbial tongue for once, and I gave as innocent a shrug as I could manage as a response.
"No use complaining when the cream's already been spilled out the bottle. Besides, I saved the girl without any trouble at all. Mission accomplished, right?" My words did little to ease his intense, scrutinizing glare. His eyes took all of me in, leaving me nothing but silent. Without warning to me or his targets, he sprang into action. His gloved hand seized his weapons of choice, and flung them into the dark in the direction of the open alleyway. A short moment after they detonated, he turned to me, his mask only accenting the stern disapproval as a few nearly invisible enemies fell to the ground behind him, slightly singed and unconscious.
"There's no trouble in being surrounded by goons with high-tech cloaking devices and deadly plasma rifles?" His voice sent scolding ice water pumping through my veins and I stood my full height to stop myself from shivering. It also worked to mask the shamefully apparent intimidation in my stance. I watched a bit anxiously as he moved closer; a fluent shadow shrouded in darkness approaching for mysterious reasons, but his advances stopped just a breath short of smothering me in his massive presence.
A sudden, indescribable movement from him, far from just a subtle twitch, and I let loose a humiliatingly feeble squeak and flinched. By the time I finished blinking he was gone, disappearing back into his comfort zone, concealed by the night to move unseen. He barked something unintelligible at me in that rugged, desert sand-like voice, but I might have simply blocked it out because it was a command. I have problems with commands; following orders isn't part of my skill set.
"Grab the girl and move!" he had shouted just before taking cover and all hell broke loose. Blasts were fired off, walls were blown apart, and playing above all the other noises, like a nail being driven through my ears, was the shrill, sanity-shredding shout of a woman terrified.
Weathering the chaos, I finally realized we were under attack. The action had my adrenaline spiked as the quiet alley suddenly erupted into a war zone. Under normal circumstances I would have endured the frightened scream echoing in my ear and joined the fray, but the shrieking thing at my side needed protection.
Not wanting to use my body as a human shield, I snatched her up, placed a palm over her mouth to shush her, and carried her away from the fight. My partner in justice wasted no time subduing the baddies behind us. We made it inside a clichéd abandoned factory, filled with rusting metal and splashes of silhouetting darkness under flickering red lights high above. I stood her against a corroding wall, removed my glove from her slimy lips and finally got a chance to examine her closely.
She looked small and frail with her flimsy frame balled into itself like that, yet not short or overly skinny. Her hair was a puffy red mess. The blue-tinted glasses kept me from having a clear view of what lay beneath them. I solved that by removing them, much to her passive protest, but she didn't fight me when I lifted her chin up to see those beautiful light-browns stare up at me.
It wasn't the sight of her that caught the curious cat's eye so to speak, but the alluring aroma. Her scent invaded my nose and possessed my mind after just the first sniff. It was not an overpowering flowery fragrance you might expect from a flaunter of purrfume, but more of a warm, mouth-watering, sugary smell; sweet, inviting, delicious. Before my rational mind knew it, my tongue was stuck to her cheek trying to lick up a sample of her sweetness.
"Oh, goodness," I regained my senses and snapped my head away, shocked at the lack of self-control I displayed. I felt mortified and blushed a bit to show it. She didn't seem to care much about my outburst however. In fact, her reaction was :meows: purriceless.
Timid fingertips gently touched the wet spot I imprinted on her cheek. Her simmering cinnamon eyes transfixed directly on mine and her hand moved gingerly to her lips. I watched with purrverse interest as she tasted whatever traces I'd left behind. The cinnamon orbs smiled at me. For a moment I was taken aback, but once her hand fell limply to her side, the predator I saw caged behind those eyes evaporated and I regained my composure.
"So, what's your story, honey?" I astonished myself with my coolness. I feel a lesser feline might have tripped over her words. I have a problem with appearing weak. Vulnerability is not my thing, unless I'm using it to get what I want, as I often do. "You wanna tell me why all those big bad men were after little old you? They looked pretty serious."
"No need for an interrogation now, I've already squeezed out a confession," his brash voice interjected. I couldn't tell when he got there, but he was standing right behind me, and his presence demanded attention.
"Her name is Dr. Allison Zion, the remaining third of a group of researchers testing experimental drugs in the form of artificial pheromones. Judging by how unresponsive she is, I suspect she is on the drug now." Ignoring my subtle protest, my "natural ray of sunshine" moved in closer to the silent monster to give her a brief physical examination.
A few seconds later, he deduced, "She is definitely showing symptoms of substance abuse. I'll have to take her back to the Batcave, run some tests and hopefully reverse any damage done so we can get some answers." He clicked a button on his utility belt that would call his car to him. A supersonic jet car would only take a few seconds to get here, and that's all it took to be completely dismissed.
"Should I ride along with you?" I asked as optimistically as I get. He of course declined, shooting my hopes down with a bazooka.
"No," he answered with an air of absolution. "The Batmobile only seats two. Besides, these tests could take all night to get done. I'll call you if anything develops. And maybe in the meantime you'll learn a little restraint and not rush in to claw up the bait."
Utterly dejected, I hissed down at his footprints. And he was gone with her, on his way to his silly hole in the wall hideout. But if he thought he could get away with pissing off a cat without an apology, he had something deadly on its way to pay a visit.