Chapter Text
As he glides through the dark streets on his motorcycle, Bruce is calmed by the sound it makes. As far as his nights tend to go, this could be called a mundane one, no greater evil to fight than the low-level crime hiding behind broken street lights. Under the circumstances, the roar of his bike feels... gentle.
On nights like this, he's never really sure where he's going, only that he'll know when he gets there, so he keeps driving. Something up ahead catches his eye, forms taking shape in the shadows, and suddenly Bruce gets that familiar feeling that trouble lies up ahead. He slows, coming to a stop a block away, and stows his bike where the lights dim dark enough that if he didn't know where he'd placed it, he'd never be able to find it again. Keeping in the shadows, Bruce creeps along the street, his eyes straining to make out the figures on the corner ahead.
There's certainly nothing unusual about shady individuals gathering down the back alleys of his city, but some combination of a gut feeling and his general boredom brings Bruce to a stop just a short distance away from the unknown people. After several major successes in the past month, Bruce has found himself with nothing to do in between cases. Who knows what this could be?
He's barely reached the corner of the alley, crouching to stay out of the light when a new voice joins the rest - a woman. "You should know better than to do your deals out in the open like this, Georgie." He hears the woman's voice ring out with a confidence the other's lacked, and he realises this woman isn't with the others. She continues, "I mean seriously, I thought I knew you better than that. Such a waste."
Bruce's breath catches in his throat - that voice, it sounds so much like one he's been waiting to hear for over a year.
Bruce hears the click of a gun being cocked, followed by a man's voice, "Oh don't worry honey, I know exactly what I'm doing." From where he's standing, Bruce can barely make out the backs of three men, looking down the alley away from him. He can't see the woman yet, but the click of her heels tells him she's unfettered by the gun he knows is pointed at her. "Stay back, freak," the man warns. "I got no problem taking out a bitch in a fucking animal costume."
The feeling in Bruce's gut intensifies, and he knows it's her. She's supposed to be out of the city, but he knows. The only question is how long she's been back, and why didn't she fucking tell him?
Bruce hears her laugh, "then do it," she says, with an animated innocence anyone with a brain would read as danger. The gun goes off, and for a second Bruce's heart stops as he thinks what he would do if she was already dead.
But she laughs again, and Bruce can't help but smile. What fucking idiots. He watches as she kicks one of the men back, having grabbed the gun by the barrel and shoved it out of her direction before he could shoot. The fight has opened up his line of vision, and though a part of him wants to come out, to get involved, he can see that the last thing she needs is his protection. He stays where he is, taking note of how she debilitates the men without killing any of them.
Once they're down, Selina starts rooting around in the pockets of the guy who tried to shoot her, presumably the one in charge. Bruce frowns, remembering that he still doesn't know why they were there in the first place.
"Where'd you put it, asshole," Selina says, "I know you have it. That's why you're trying to sell it."
The man groans, "fuck you, bitch." His head snaps to the side as Selina punches him, and he groans again.
Selina stops and rises to her feet with something in her hand. "Found it," she says, and Bruce can hear the smile in her voice. "Thanks, Georgie," she says, kicking him one last time in the gut before walking away. Bruce tries not to notice the swing in her hips as she leaves, turning down the street at the end of the alleyway.
So she's back.