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There were many imitators, but there was only one Selina Kyle.
...Well that factually wasn't accurate. It wasn't the most common name, but not enough for her to be singular.
There was however, one Catwoman, so the point can still be made that she was in short supply. Between the philanthropy and heists and vigilantism, it was becoming increasingly easy for her to feel stretched thin.
So ignoring Bruce’s call wasn't spiteful, it was pragmatic, she was busy doing important things, and of all people, he could understand that, and had no room to complain, with how often he decided to be unreachable due to some kind of embarrassing emotional collapse, or, you know, being dead.
Ugh.
She'd call him after she was done with her immediate concern.
She slid gracefully from her motorcycle, and started taking an inconspicuous path around the many storage containers that dominated this part of Gotham’s dockside. She wasn't expecting a brilliant surveillance apparatus from these assholes, but she was not going to risk lives on a hunch. Well. The lives of others. She's been known to gamble with her own occasionally, but she had at least six left, so it was whatever.
She pulled herself onto the edge of a crate, up into a handspring that terminated in a crouch, and adjusted her goggles the moment she landed.
A cursory glance showed what she expected: A couple scattered lookouts, a couple of vans ready to move all of the captives, one of the younger kids of Don Figueroa shouting into his phone to try to look important, etc.
After she was done, she was going to let Jason know that they were back in the human trafficking business, then sip white russians in her apartment while chuckling at the distant explosions that would follow.
She caught something of of the corner of her eye. Her lenses always highlighted compatible technology in case she wanted to hack into something, and showed her a decently well-hidden Waytech tactical trike. Unmarked. Never released for sale. It was odd. She knew what vehicles the sky rodents were currently favoring, and that was not one of them. It was also a few years out of date, and Bruce's bougie ass would have replaced it by now if it were his.
Hmm.
Regardless, that meant there was a new variable to look out for, and she'd be damned if she let them screw this up.
...Whoever they were.
Colin flattened himself against a support beam and carefully peeked around it. Getting tall was kinda nice because he could hold things out of Damian's reach when he wanted to be annoying. It sucked for stealth though. Being able to hide in small spaces, only to pop up all huge and scary was great, caught people off guard, let him avoid a lot of problems.
But he was sniffing at 6ft, and the differences between him and Abuse were getting smaller and smaller
He didn't have time to lament though, he had things to do. These poor people had been through enough, he wasn't going to make it worse by fucking it up.
“Meow.”
Colin spun on his heel, just managing to catch himself before his fist made contact with a woman’s face. It took him a beat to process what he was looking at.
“Catwoman!?” He whispered.
“Hey.” She smiled, and he read it as a threat.
He'd never seen her in person, so he didn't realize how...short she was. Like she was about average for a lady, but still, in his head she was one of those larger-than-life figures.
He tried to find something to say, a question to ask, but she held a hand up.
“I have no idea who you are, or how bad your life situation must be that there was no one to save you from that hat, but this is something of a serious evening, and I don't have time to babysit. That said, the fact that you got in here without being detected makes me think you aren't completely green. So maybe this is workable. Are you good at anything?”
Depends who you ask.
“Fighting. Not dying. I'm going to beat the tar out of everyone in this building the second I get the victims secured.”
Catwoman nodded. “You said that with a straight face, so I'll take your word for it. They're being held in a series of shipping crates in a hidden sub-basement. I'm going to make sure to draw out any guards that may be watching them to, like you said, get the captives secure. At which point we're pretty free to subdue the traffickers. You follow?”
Colin nodded. “Uh, yeah--”
She clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. Don't get murdered.”
She was gone before he could ask for any clarification, and so he hung back to wait for what he assumed would be some kind of signal.
Selina silently cursed to herself as she slipped through the shadows of the packed warehouse. She wanted to get rid of the weirdly dressed (and admittedly rather large) kid, but there was no time. Besides, he'd have argued with her, and she couldn't risk getting detected.
Whatever, she'd free the victims, beat the hell out of their traffickers, and then curse the kid out after everything was settled.
She lifted a conveniently placed vent, and used it to get into the basement. It let her out at a helpful angle, out of the sightline of the one man guarding the containers. Selina took a deep breath and pounced the moment his footing shifted.
She may have smashed his face into the ground harder than was strictly necessary, but really, he was just lucky she wasn't a killer. Tempting as it often was, it generally wasn't worth the momentary catharsis.
Moving on, she dragged him into one of the open storage containers and locked it. She could hear the terrified voices inside of the big red one Mr. TBI was guarding, but fought the urge to open it. For the time being, they were safer inside.
With them secured, it was time to hunt.
...And to hope the kid wasn't an idiot.
Colin was trying to be professional about the situation, but Catwoman really didn't give him much of a plan before she vanished, so every moment that ticked past made him increasingly anxious. A little pissed off too, because he'd had his own plan that she just waltzed in and bulldozed over. But he'd worked with Damian enough times to know that when your partner hasn't shared the plan, it was best to tread lightly to avoid collisions. And explosions. And oil fires. He was never going to let Dami live down the Condiment King incident.
Just when he was about to give up on waiting, the lights shut off. He cracked his knuckles and pumped himself up to full size.
Finally, it was time for a little Abuse.
Selina gingerly stepped over one of the many unconscious, and thoroughly beaten traffickers. She was less surprised at the violence of it all than she was at the speed at which it happened. She was also...disappointed that he'd gotten all of them. She did enjoy that part sometimes. The cutting loose.
The kid seemed to share that sentiment. He was taller than when she'd left him. Wider. The coat didn't look too big on him anymore. It was tight around the shoulders, even. In addition, his features were more exaggerated, veins more visible. It was as if...
“Oh my god, are you on venom?”
The kid snorted and slowly shrunk back to normal size, which was disturbing to witness, by the way.
“Kinda. Real bad doctors visit. Now I can do it whenever.”
She hummed, and decided to circle back to whatever that was later.
As they were walking back to the captives, they were both mildly startled by a clanking directly behind them. A bloody knife had fallen to the ground. Which was...odd. Selina was still in that breath of initial confusion when the boy said: “Ohhhh. That's why my shoulder hurt.”
He then went on to assure her that he was fine, that it was barely a flesh wound and was already healing.
But she'd seen how far up on the blade the blood went, so she knew that it was more than just skin deep.
She held onto that thought until the innocents were taken care of. The pair had left as soon as the the authorities took over--neither was on great terms with the GCPD
They chatted a bit on the way back to their vehicles. It was more a formality; polite conversation without actually saying anything. Selina preferred that generally. The fact that she was the one to push deeper surprised them both.
“Your coat isn't knife-proof?”
The boy shrugged. “Nah. Well, I mean it's leather, but...not so much.”
“And you're just wearing regular clothes under it?”
“Yep.”
Selina groaned. “You need more than that if you're going to survive worse than what we saw tonight, and there will be worse.”
He nodded very seriously. “I'll go call my tailor and get that started.”
“Funny.”
He smiled. She was impressed he had all of his teeth somehow.
“Always.”
She rolled her eyes. “If your financials are the problem, I...I suppose I could do you a solid, and--”
“Nah, I'm good.”
Selina paused. “...You're good?”
“Yeah. It's a nice offer or whatever--”
“‘Or whatever?’”
He climbed onto his trike-thing.
“Appreciate it, but I'm fine. Nice meeting you, though!”
Selina grit her teeth as she watched him ride off.
It bugged her. Everything about that interaction bugged her.
Hmmm. Wayntech prototype vehicle, huh?
...Maybe she really did need to call him back after all.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You wanted a dinner date to talk about work? You?”
Selina rolled her eyes and gently jostled her mimosa.
“When you truly enjoy what you do, there's no work, it's all pleasure.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Though...I am somewhat...troubled by a grumpy young man I happened into the other day. Redhead, almost your height, squishable face, despair in the eyes? Ring a bell?”
Bruce thought for a moment. “...Uh...that could be a couple--”
“Seriously.”
“There’s a decent Irish population in the city--”
“Wears a trench and has knuckle dusters that say ‘Abuse’”
Bruce actually deflated a bit. That didn’t usually happen unless his parents came up.“...Oh. Yeah, I know that one. Colin. What happened?”
Selina shook her head. “Nothing, he handled himself well, we got all of the survivors out of that nasty situation.”
“The trafficking at the docks?”
“The same. He’s quite strong. Smart, too. It’s just...”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “...Uh-huh--”
She leaned in a little bit. “...I just think people should be a little more concerned with not being shot, or stabbed? I’m aware you’re kind of into that--”
“I’m not--”
“But if he’s going to be running at people like that, he should have some kevlar, the muscleman bit only protects him so much--though he's pretty good at being stabbed, I'll admit. Why doesn’t he have better gear? I mean he already has that hideous dire-tricycle, why did you stop there? I thought giving angry young men flak jackets was one of your favorite hobbies.”
“Funny.”
“Always.”
Bruce sighed. “Sometimes when they’re angry with me, they don’t end up wanting my assistance.”
Selina’s eyes brightened with interest. “Oh? What did you do, my dear? What was so bad that ‘Little Orphan Andrew,’ would rather go it alone than have you keep him mostly alive and in the current Nikes?”
“...He never forgave me for Damian’s death. Hell, I haven’t, either. So arguing the point would be fruitless.”
Selina sat with that, gave her mimosa another kiss to fill the conversational void while she thought.
“Alright, I’ll handle it.”
Bruce blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You really need to get that tinnitus looked at.”
“Selina--”
“I’ll set out a can of wet food, see if I can get him to come inside.”
“I’m...always impressed by your commitment to the cat puns.”
She chuckled and finished off her drink. “Fuck you. You don’t think I can do it.”
“I think it’ll be entertaining to hear how that goes.”
“Wanna make it interesting?”
“I’m not a gambler.”
“Bruce, every time you open your mouth it’s a gamble and the odds aren’t usually great.”
“...What do you want to wager?”
“If I can get this young man under my wing before the end of the month, you will fund and promote a new Gotham production of ‘Love Never Dies.’”
Bruce visibly paled. “...You...you want me to resurrect the Phantom of the Opera sequel?
“The one that when you look it up, you’re shown a headline calling it a ‘Magnificent Trashfire Sequel?' Yes.”
“...Not...’Cats...?’”
“No, don’t be basic. Plus, ‘Cats’ is actually a good time. This is schadenfreude at its finest. And you will be playing ‘The Phantom’ on opening night for publicity.”
Bruce let out an agonized slow groan. “...I have no idea what I’d even want from you that could remotely match that. Christ.”
“Your lack of creativity isn’t my probl--”
“If you don’t, you have to let me design your next costume.”
It was Selina’s turn to get a little pale. “...W-well now...I...”
“I’m not going to do something degrading and lewd--”
“Honestly? That may in fact be the nightmarish part.”
Bruce smirked. “Deal?”
Selina sighed, all long and dramatic.
“...Deal.”
Colin slid out from under his trike and wiped some grease from his cheek. “...So yeah, I told her I wasn’t interested. I’m already not getting into bed with Batman, why on Earth would I want to shack up with Catwoman, right?”
Nell shook her head and let a fond smile creep onto her face. “Yeah, yeah you’re a little young for both of them, I think.”
“Ew!”
“Okay but, you’re already kinda working with Robin, yeah? He gets his stuff from Batman, so really--”
“Robin has his own stuff.”
Nell scoffed. “Robin is independently wealthy from Batman?”
“Yep! He’s nowhere near as annoying about it as the rest of his personality would make you think.”
“Low bar.”
“You’ve spoken to him like once.”
“Am I wrong though?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “...But it’s not just about using their stuff, Nell, it’s like...I don’t want Batman to think he can tell me what to do. I have my own ideas about what Gotham needs, I don’t want that old ratfuck breathing down my neck.”
She paused at that. Raised an eyebrow. “...Huh. You don’t curse often. You really have a thing against Batman, huh?”
“You know I like my space.”
“Yeah but it’s...personal? This about Robin?”
“Not everything is about Robin!”
Nell slid off of the work table and walked over to look up into Colin’s eyes.
“...In general? No. With you? Kind of.”
“Oh my god, that’s not--”
“He left right before I got here, yeah?”
Colin blinked. “...How do you know that?”
“You don’t care if I call you sweaty and gross,’specially when you’re working on your bike, so why are you wearing body spray? Hmm? And what is that, jasmine? You can’t tell me that’s a scent you’d have picked on your own. Where did you even find a jasmine scented body spray--”
Colin groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Well when you say it like that, it sounds super obvious.”
Nell nodded. “Super-duper obvious. Tough...maybe not to him. Anyway, what is it? He’s got beef with his old man and you’re taking up his banner? If so, I fucks with it, but you seem more upset than just some second hand ride-or-die stuff.”
Colin stared at her for a moment, looked up at the ceiling, sighed, and then crossed his arms and looked down at his boots.
“Batman saved me when I was little. I don’t remember it too much, cause it was...uh...you know...”
“Yeah. I know.”
“And like, I’m grateful for that. I thought he was the coolest thing for years, part of the reason I wanted to help out was because he helped me get a second chance. Then I met Robin, and that was really cool, and then he...went away for a while. I uh...I thought..." He shook his head, "...but then he came back. So I tried to spend as much time with him as a could, cause that was really scary, and--”
“Him going on a trip scared you that much?”
“...Yeah. Look, the point I’m making is, I know Batman and Robin better than a lot of people do. I know what Batman actually cares about, and I don’t want to stand around and watch it hurt everyone around him.”
Nell pursed her lips and nodded. “...Okay, fair enough, I’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.”
“But I still think you should hear Catwoman out. Do you really think she’s going to hover?”
“Well, no, maybe not. But she gets into a lot of messy stuff--”
“And she does a lot of good. She steals, you break faces, you both clearly have issues--”
“NELL--”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“It’s what I do! It’s my thing!”
Nell held up a messed up t-shirt he’d left laying around. He winced when he realized what she was about to say.
“This shirt has three bullet holes in it, Colin. Three!”
“I’m fine now! I heal really good--”
“Enough that you can’t bleed out if an artery gets nicked? Huh?”
“My muscles are really dense, it would be so hard--”
“It would be harder to die if you could afford some decent armor. The sisters don’t want you to die, I don’t want you to die, Robin doesn’t want you to die. Just think about it, Okay?”
Colin sighed.
“...Maybe.”
Selina gave it a week. Which to some might have seemed like a bold move, considering she was working a deadline. But sometimes, to properly finesse a situation, it needed to be allowed to simmer. Bruce sometimes got in his own way by being so relentless, so focused, so incapable of allowing for the possibility of a negative outcome on the way to a greater, positive one.
A textbook dog person, really.
So she gave Colin a little space, observed him for a while. He was more alert than she'd expected--need nearly noticed her twice. She idly wondered if that awareness was a product of Damian's habit of showing up unannounced. Maybe it was his approximation of playing with a friend.
Somehow, witnessing Damian approach normal teenage behavior made him feel more tragic. But she'd decided early on that she'd keep her claws to herself. Damian's wellbeing was on Bruce. It was a firm boundary that she stuck to.
But she did think about him, occasionally.
Colin seemed to think of him a bit more often than that, if his call history meant anything. They didn't chat often, but when they did, it wasn't unlikely for the conversation to last a couple hours. They were clearly close.
Which made her feel a little dumb for not expecting to run into him on one of the evenings she'd spent stalking his best friend.
“What are you doing here?” Equal parts inquiry and threat. Cute.
“Enjoying the night air.”
“Kyle--”
“Christ, you really are starting to sound like your father.”
“No need to get nasty. Why are you watching my friend?”
Selina cut him a glance. “You have friends?”
Damian’s lips tightened and she laughed.
“Just teasing, calm down. I'm here to convince him that getting shot is a problem to be solved.”
“Sorry, what?”
“I'm going to give him some new gear. He looks homeless. And penetrable. By bullets, Damian. I'm still talking about him getting shot--”
Damian growled. “You are not allowed to make him a catboy, no matter how good the gear is.”
“Truth be told, I think you'd love that.”
He turned up his nose. “...You still have not explained why you are surveilling him.”
She shrugged. “He's stubborn, I'm waiting for the best window to make my offer.”
Damian hesitated. “...This is unnecessary, I will convince him myself--”
“Why haven't you already? Have you just never been concerned enough to try?”
“You--no! I've--”
“Obviously tried it already and he refused on the grounds of not wanting to accept any more handouts?”
Damian made it very clear by the way he inclined his head that he was rolling his eyes.
“...Fine. Don't upset him. Colin is...fragile.”
Selina was a little surprised that he sounded more concerned than derisive. Maybe she’d ease up on him a little.
She raised her hands in dramatic surrender. “Kid gloves, no claws. I promise.”
Damian studied her for a long moment, before sighing.
“Alright. Not tonight, though.”
“No, of course not, I wouldn't want to intrude upon your little date.”
He pointedly looked away. “Don't be inane.”
Selina stretched like a...you know...and walked to the edge of the roof.
“Have a good night, Robin.”
Colin neatly hung his coat on the rack in his garage before trudging over to and collapsing onto his couch.
The thing no one brings up about being able to fight a whole room of guys solo is that even if you win, you will be dead tired afterwards.
There was a part of him that almost regretted not asking Damian for help on the case when he saw him the day before, but he waved the thought off. He was able to handle it by himself after all, so really, it would have still been a waste of Damian's time. A net loss for the greater good. Better to spread out if you can.
He was still tired, though. He'd gotten tougher over the years, taller, stronger, more resilient overall. So keeping ‘Abuse’ up wasn't as much of a strain. But holding it for extended periods always took it out of him. He counted himself lucky though, venom usually messed people up way worse. Whatever happened to him, overall it kind of worked out.
Night terrors not withstanding.
He set an alarm, had to make sure to wake up in time so he could sneak back home before the sisters woke up.
He needed a breather, first. A catnap, really.
But he woke up before his alarm. Something signaled that he needed to get up, and he wasn't sure what it was at first. Opening his eyes answered that question for him, but raised...quite a few more. He scrambled to his feet.
Catwoman is in my garage sitting on my trike, Catwoman is in my garage sitting on my trike, Catwoman--
“You know,” she purred from where she was indeed sitting on Colin’s trike, “For someone so set against working with Batman, you really did accept an expensive piece of his gear.”
Colin's cheeks warmed, but he managed to keep the scowl from breaking into embarrassment, or an obvious panic attack.
“T-that wasn't from Batman, and even if it was, I didn't know who he was back then, not really. I thought he was still...cool.”
Catwoman chuckled and stood up. “Oh dear, whatever did he do this time?”
Colin clenched his fists. “You're askin’ a lot of questions for someone who broke into my place, lady.”
“A place you can't possibly afford the rent for, being an unemployed fifteen-year-old orphan with morals. Honestly I'm just curious as to how you've managed to survive this long. Having a sugar daddy to keep you afloat while you get your life together isn't a sin. Well maybe it is, I dunno, I'm not a nun.”
Great, that dig means she knows where I live, too.
Wait, what did she just....
“Damian is not my sugar daddy!”
He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd stumbled into her trap.
“Aha! Well this all makes more sense, of course one of Damian's little friends would be wary of his father. Can't stand near that boy for more than five minutes before he says something that reminds me why I would never want to let that man raise my children. He does however have many wonderful qualities that are offered only to me, so I can usually stay out of his personal affairs. But you...”
He almost instinctively backed up when she took a step or two towards him. Why was he letting this tiny lady intimidate him? Sure she was Catwoman, but...
“...You can't turn a blind eye to anything, can you? I kind of like that.”
Colin tried to look more irritated than confused.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I'm offering you the opportunity of a lifetime: An internship. Of sorts.”
Colin groaned. Of course.
“No.”
Catwoman actually paused in what Colin hoped was more surprise than outrage.
“No?”
“I told Batman to shove off and leave me alone because I thought he was shady. And he's in the Justice League. I know you do good stuff, I'm not dumb, I know how things are, but--”
She stepped into his personal space with sharp grace, she prodded his chest sharply to cut him off.
“If you know my deal, then you know I have no interest in getting your hands dirty. I'm a philanthropist, this is charity.”
“You think I want your charity?”
“Of course not, but I think you deserve it. It will drastically increase your chances of survival. And you can't help people if you're dead, can you?”
Colin bit his lip.
“Look, I appreciate it, I guess. But I'm good, okay?”
Catwoman sighed and popped her tongue.
“I can't believe I'm actually about to--it I can get you to agree to work with me, I will be able to publicly embarrass Bruce.”
Colin blinked a few times. “...This is a bet?”
“It is, yes.”
“I... Isn't it against the spirit of the bet to tell me about it?”
“There were no agreed upon rules, and I like winning. You're more likely to give it a shot if you know it's a snub to Batman, which means I win and you end up with better chances at survival. So yes, this is a bet, the outcome of which you can only benefit from.”
Frankly, that seated much more naturally in Colin's mind. He could accept self-interest far more easily than random generosity.
He raised an eyebrow. “What exactly happens if you win?”
Catwoman grinned.
Selina looked up from monitoring a data leak that exposed a crypto bro’s illegal acquisition of numerous Iraqi cultural artifacts--a leak that she had nothing to do with, mind you--to watch Colin fidget awkwardly as her tailor took his measurements. He was red as a tomato. She surmised that he felt exposed without his coat, and reluctantly decided she'd let him keep it as an accessory. It hurt to do, but she wasn't a monster, she could compromise.
The tailor stepped back. “Okay, Mr. Abuse,” She also was clear about not sharing his name. Really, in the grand scheme it didn't matter that much, someone who really wanted to figure out who he was could have done it easily, but the kid clung to his peace of mind like a life raft. “I need to take measure of how big you can get.”
Colin made nervous eye contact with her, and her firm but gentle nod seemed to be enough to satisfy him.
She'd never seen it before, not unobscured by weird lighting and that big coat. Despite him not really reacting to it, the way his muscles bulged and even his bones seemed to shift position, she couldn't shake the opinion that it looked painful. Venom wasn't good for the body, obviously. And as far as she was aware, this ability of his was a byproduct of exposure to a cocktail of the stuff, and whatever else Scarecrow's monstrous ass decided he needed to pump a child full of. So the transformation being painful wasn't out of the question. Colin already had that ‘grin and bear it mentality.
It was a pretty good disguise though. Colin had something of a soft face normally, and the inherent squareness of his features were greatly exaggerated by the change. He wasn't quite as scary to look at as some of the older images she'd found of him made him look. Maybe it was something to do with his maturing body, the fact that it didn't have to shift as much to reach his full height anymore. So intimidating, but not so much that it was impossible to work with, visually.
“You're doing great!”
Colin rolled his eyes.
“What do you think of these?”
Colin cautiously accepted the offered sketchpad and looked through the options Selina had come up with.
“I'm not wearing spandex.”
She rolled her eyes. “No one wears spandex. Those are all different varieties of kevlar and carbon fiber weave.”
“Well, okay, but the problem is--like...these are superhero costumes.”
“...Yes?”
“Well, I'm just...that's not really my thing.”
Selina stared at him. “...Then what, pray tell, do you think you're doing?”
Colin shrugged. “I just help people when I can. I'm not good enough of a person to be a superhero, I can't be an example for anyone.”
Selina, for the first time since Colin met her, actually looked a little sad.
“Ah. So you're delusional.”
“Hey--!”
“You're not Huntress, you're not Batman, you're not The Question--despite your fashion choices--and you're not me. You can't stand to get your hands dirty.”
“What are you--I beat people up! Badly!”
“And?”
“And I'm super angry! All the time! That's the whole thing! I get angry and I hit people!”
“And what, that makes you some kind of monster? Hmm?”
“Being me makes me a monster!”
That came out wrong, because it came out at all. And how the hell would he walk that back?
She didn't give him the chance.
“Those people we saved at the docks? Do you remember them?”
Colin frowned. “Of course--”
“When you looked at them, helped them get to the paramedics, held some steady, did you look at them and think ‘monster?””
“No, but--where the fuck are you going with this--”
She leveled an accusatory finger at him. “No, you didn't. Because those were people that had something terrible happen to them, who have to live with those consequences. Consequences they didn't sign up for, consequences that aren't their fault.”
Oh, oh that's what she's doing--
“No! No you are not going to call me a victim--”
“‘Victim’ only applies when the story is over. When the game is done and everyone has given up and gone home. You're a survivor, trying to make the best with what you have, the best with what was done to you.
“You've taken pain and made it into power...more literally than most. And you use that power to protect other people unselfishly.
“Me? I'm selfish. I'm so selfish. I love myself, I think I deserve to have things. Sometimes I make decisions at the expense of other people. And I sleep soundly at night. Your conscience? Your heart? Your sense of justice? They're not going to let you be like me. And you already know that you want to avoid turning into Batman, so you're ahead of the curve. A hero is heart and a willingness to keep trying for better even when it hurts, perhaps especially then.
“So we're going to make you a lovely uniform, one that you can hide under your coat, one that will keep you safer than you've been, and one that has a symbol a little kid will be able to take one look at and know they're safe. Do you understand me? You aren't ruined. No one can ruin you and no one has. I accept my nature, I know what I am. You would be well served to do the same.”
Colin swallowed. “...I think I'm supposed to cry here. It's uh. It's not working though. Heh. Man. Why can't I cry?”
His lips were trembling though.
Selina rested her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
After a beat or two, she looked back at the sketchpad.
“...Is there one you like?”
Colin took a deep breath. Sniffled a little.
“I...I kinda like the pattern on this one. Number three. But can I really pull off that much orange?”
Selina smiled.
“Oh, it's all about shade and saturation, dear. Let me show you.”
“Alright, I'll admit it,“ Damian muttered, “I wasn't aware that Kyle was capable of producing something of this quality.”
Colin blushed a little while he stood still so Damian could inspect it.
“Uh, yeah, yeah it's pretty good, right? Way more comfortable than it looks. Like there's plenty of space for my b--
His breath hitched when Damian reached out to trace his fingers along one of the many brass lines that covered his suit.
“What are these for? It's an interesting design choice, but the placement makes me think--”
“That's where it extends so it can grow with me. It's actually really cool. The symbol even changes a little. Makes me feel a little like a superhero, you know? Just a little.”
Damian chuckled. “Maybe a little. And she hasn't asked for anything in return?”
“Nah, I actually think sticking it to your dad is enough for her. They're weird.”
Damian finally looked up at him. “Sticking it to my father?”
“Oh, yeah apparently it's part of a bet. I've never accepted stuff from your dad--”
“Ah, yes.” Damian took a smooth step back, and Colin suddenly realized how close they'd been. “Do you still...harbor that resentment? Like, I get it--”
“Dami--”
“But I would prefer...he...” Damian rubbed his eyes and let out a quiet hiss of frustration. “It wasn't a bad time before, when you used to visit, I mean. Is there like...anything that would fix this, for you?”
Colin was stuck between being touched that Damian had been able to get that close to admitting that he missed spending time with him, and pissed that he was the one trying to clean up his dad's mess. Again. But it was maybe a little bit of his mess too. Bruce was an asshole, but Colin was the one who decided to pull back, and that seemed to have hurt him too.
Fuck.
“...You gotta keep us away from each other. But yeah. Yeah okay. If you invite me over, I'll come.”
Damian's brief moment of vulnerability was chased away by an evil little smirk. “Wow, Colin, I know you like hanging out, but you don't need to get that excited.”
It took Colin a minute to catch up, and when he did, Damian cracked up at the face he made.”
“You little asshole!”
“That's vulgar speculation--”
Colin ended up knocking a bunch of stuff over while chasing his laughing, taunting, little jerk of a friend around his garage like a cut Looneytunes skit.
He didn't know what he'd do if he caught him.
But he really wanted to.
Bruce sighed when Selina showed him the picture of Colin in his new suit.
“It looks fine.”
Selina smirked. “Uh-huh.”
“It works with the coat, doesn't totally change his--”
“Bruce--”
“You can't be serious.”
“We both know I was and am.”
Bruce winced. “...Fine. I...fine.”
“Ha!”
Bruce shook his head before sinking back into his chair. “I am glad you managed to get him to see reason.”
Selina shrugged. “It wasn't hard. He's an emotional kid, but once you get past that first wall he's actually very easy to work with. I'm kind of impressed that you managed to fuck it up in the first place. What did you actually do?”
Bruce frowned. “I told you, he was upset about Damian's death--”
“Doesn't make sense, you also got him back. Doesn't account for this level of bitterness.”
“The kid doesn't always make sense, he's irrational, struggles with quite a few mental health concerns--”
“You're not sure. You're honestly not sure. Yikes. You might want to figure that out, Bruce.”
“I'm sure Damian has complained to him about me, that's what teenagers do.”
“Obviously. But Damian cares about him. They care about each other, obviously. Colin is willing to carry that grudge until the day he dies, and Damian...I've never actually heard him sound like that before.”
“What? What did he sound like?”
“He had the same quietly pleading undertone that creeps in when someone is begging me to not take their most treasured possession, but also not trying to let on exactly how much it actually means to them. Usually it's an urn, or an old necklace, a ring, something with sentimental value. Very specific tone. All I'm saying is that he doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and your son values him. It might be wise to figure out what the problem is before it decides to make itself angrily apparent."
Bruce didn't say anything for a while, and Selina was content to pretend to ignore him until he spoke up again.
“Do you think it's too late?”
“To smooth things over with Colin? Probably not.”
“No, no I meant...I've been doing some thinking. And at some point I just...I think I lost myself. Forgot what the promise actually meant. It took me a long time to figure that out. Way too long. Now that I can see the consequences a little better, there's so many things I wish I could take back. Unforgivable things. But that's not how it works. And I'm worried now everything will be too little, too late.”
For the first time in a while, Selina dropped the mask of humor and wit and looked at Bruce with her real face.
“It's only too late when the game is over. You've played a lot of bad hands, yeah. But I don't think you're ready to call it yet. Are you?”
“...No.”
She smiled. “Right. So, go figure it out, detective. I'm not your therapist, you couldn't afford my rates even if I were, and I have things to do.”
Bruce smirked at that, and some of the light found its way back to his eyes.
“Can we do this again soon?”
Selina shrugged.
“I'll have to check my schedule. I'm a busy woman these days. So much to do, so many places to see, and just one Selina Kyle to do it all.” With a bit of a dramatic stretch, she stood and started to gather her things.
“...I'll see you on opening night, though. You better sing your heart out, the press will eat you alive if you're flat.”
He didn't end up being flat on opening night. In fact, his performance was very good, all things considered.
The reviews were terrible though. Obviously.
It was still a production of “Love Never Dies,” after all.