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lalunaunita · 6 years ago

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The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 3

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Music Fanmix by @pennywaltzy

Rating: Teen

Summary: Bruce does his usual tightrope walk between his dual lives. He flirts with Selina at a charity ball, then goes to search for Catwoman.

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 3

Bruce straightened the sleeves of his jacket and smoothed his hair back as he crossed the top floor of Wayne Industries with long strides. It was 8:06 a.m. according to the clock on the wall above a sea of cubicles. He smiled at various clerks that looked up as he sailed by. One man, however, stood at the back wall coffee bar with a frown on his face.

“Late again, Bruce. The Board has been waiting for…” he glanced at the clock, “...seven minutes. Can’t you save your escapades for the weekend? You’ve still got lipstick on your collar.” The frown deepened, stopping just short of a grimace.

Bruce silently blessed Alfred for remembering the little details.

“Oops, good thing I’ve got a fresh shirt in my office. Tell the Board they need to wait three minutes more?” he asked, faking a sheepish look.

The man sighed gustily as he stirred his coffee and shook his head.

Bruce put on the boyish grin that had launched a thousand fansites. “Aw, cut me a little slack, Philmore? It’s only ten minutes of their time. And besides, it was all for charity.”

Philmore grumbled as he stalked away toward the board room. Bruce chuckled. He entered his office, waving at his secretary before closeting himself behind a heavily ornate wooden door. He nabbed a fresh shirt off of a rack in one corner of the enormous space and quickly switched out. A polite knock sounded as he resecured his power tie in front of a mirror on the back of the door.

“Enter!” he called, stepping back.

Debra, his secretary, sashayed in holding a clipboard. She clicked her tongue at him. “You sure put Phil in a tizzy this morning. Have mercy on the poor man,” she admonished. “Here’s your schedule and the materials for the meeting. This one’s gonna be a bloodbath, sorry to say. You shouldn’t have kept them waiting.”

“I can handle the board, Debra. What’s on my schedule for tonight?” Bruce asked.

His mind raced ahead to the hours after sunset. He wondered where he should start the search for Catwoman.

“Charity ball for a cat conservation group,” Debra reported, cutting into his thoughts.

Bruce groaned. “Can I cancel?”

“I suppose. Selina Kyle’s on the board—”

“Selina will be there?” Bruce’s ears perked up as he finished tucking in his shirt and took the clipboard from Debra.

Debra didn’t meet his eyes, but a knowing smile brought out her dimple. Bruce realized she’d mentioned that fact on purpose. He sighed, but with good humor.

“I’ll go. It’s fine. Can you call Alfred—”

“And make sure your tux is ready? Already done. What would you do without me, Mr. Wayne?” Debra chuckled at his expression.

“Suffer. Greatly.”

Bruce flashed Debra one last winning smile and stepped jauntily to the board room, armed with the materials she’d prepared.

Later that day, Bruce was alone in his office, the door partially shut against the bustle of the top floor. His lunch—a high quality sushi tray prepared by his favorite chef—sat untouched as he stared off into space. The board meeting had been… not good. Several of their products were in a sales slump no one could explain, and one particular land development project had everyone out of sorts. He wanted to be excited about the prospect of seeing Selina later, but work had him in a serious funk.

A surreptitious tap on the doorjamb pulled Bruce from his thoughts. He looked up to see Chuck Howson, his number one accountant, peep around the door.

“Hey, Mr. Wayne, is this a good time?” Howson’s round face was more serious than usual as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“It’s fine,” Bruce replied, waving him in.

“So, I tracked down those figures you wanted,” Howson began.

He placed a manila file folder on the edge of Bruce’s desk, carefully avoiding the sushi as he flipped it open. Bruce could feel his eyes glaze over when he saw the colored pie charts and various graphs of Howson’s collected printouts.

“Let’s cut to the chase. Howson, what kind of money are we talking here?” Bruce put his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin.

Howson pushed his glasses up with one long finger. “Well, Mr. Wayne, the cost of re-zoning, all the permits—and frankly, the bribes to various Gotham City officials...it’s in the neighborhood of—”

The figure he named set Bruce’s ears back. No wonder the board had been calling him all week. Even the deep pockets of Wayne Industries couldn’t handle the cost of the multi-use development he’d dreamed up. He’d envisioned it with Wayne employees in mind, but that small detail didn’t matter. For the amount Howson calculated, it would be cheaper to put his employees up in nice hotels for a couple of years.

Bruce sighed, irritated. “This is my land, isn’t it? How can they charge me so much to develop my own land?”

Howson shrugged. “Realities of living in a big city, Sir. Take it up with City Council.”

“Don’t tempt me. That’ll be all, Howson. Thanks.” Bruce stood and shook out his broad shoulders.

Howson gave a mock salute, turned on a heel, and exited the lavish office. The door closed softly behind him. Bruce rubbed his eyes and sighed again. After a frustrated circuit of the room and a few minutes spent staring out the window, he returned to work. He reviewed reports for a few more hours, annotating them or calling Debra on the comm to ask for follow-ups on one thing or another. Finally, the grandfather clock against the wall chimed five. Bruce stood and pulled on his suit jacket, eager to get out of Wayne Industries for the day.

He’d have to pull a Cinderella at the charity ball this evening. As much fun as one more overcrowded, champagne-soaked benefit would be, Batman had to find Catwoman before Commissioner Gordon set his sights on her.

It had been quite a while since he’d had a good excuse to see Selina, though. They knew each other well enough that he could call her up for coffee or brunch, but something about her always made him hesitate. The cover of another philanthropic event felt… required.

It was probably the intensity of purpose that radiated off of Selina. Her intensity honed down to a sharp, tiny, tolerant smile whenever she encountered Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s playboy. Come to think of it, Catwoman had a similar intense energy the few times he had encountered her. Bruce could imagine Selina’s laugh at being compared to the famous cat burglar. She’d probably love it. She wasn’t the type to be scandalized.

The ball started at eight o’clock. Alfred had him dressed and coiffed with thirty minutes to spare. Bruce set out from Wayne Manor in an appropriately sleek sports car, knowing Alfred would meet him with the Batmobile at midnight in one of their hidden places around town. He took his time on the winding roads leading back into the city, then roared up to the valet parking in front of the Natural History Museum exactly fifteen minutes after eight o’clock. Sometimes he did an even better job of pretending to be irresponsible and late, but tonight he figured ‘nearly on time’ served just as well.

Bruce tossed his keys to the valet, flicked imaginary dust off of the shoulder of his tux, and headed in. He handed a pre-filled and signed check to a well-dressed lady at a table covered in red velvet. When he smiled, she blushed to match the tablecloth and gave him his proof of plate purchase—a little gold cheetah lapel pin. He placed it carefully and set the backing. It wouldn’t do to break a thread on this tux; Alfred would murder him in his sleep.

He had another check already prepared for his actual donation to the cause. It was a number he hoped would make that tiny smile of Selina’s broaden into something authentic.

Warm light, the melodic strains of a string quartet, and the unmistakable musty smell of fossilized dinosaurs swept over Bruce as he entered the main hall of Gotham’s Natural History Museum. He took a proffered glass of champagne and pretended to sip it, one hand in his pocket as he casually walked the perimeter of the gathering. A banner emblazoned with “Gotham Cat and Habitat Conservation Society Annual Charity Ball” stretched across a raised dais toward the back of the large space. A generous dance floor had been put down in the center.

Curiously, several tableaus of taxidermied big cats from different sections of the museum had been brought in, but the glass enclosures were spattered with red paint. It looked as though blood striped the exteriors of scenes of lions taking down zebras, pumas feasting on deer, and other cats made to look fierce in their natural environments.

Bruce came close to the dais and saw the table for the board of directors, placards for the officers at each of their seats. Selina Kyle was behind the table, rifling through her clutch for something.

Bruce stood at the foot of the dais, champagne in hand. He looked up at the graceful woman with a smile on his lips. She’d cut her dark hair stylishly short. In combination with her strapless evening gown, it made her pale neck look beautifully slender. She snapped her clutch shut and straightened up. He caught her eye then, and she narrowed her gaze in admonishment.

“Staring is rude, Bruce,” Selina called out to him across the table.

He only grinned, not taking his eyes away for a moment. She shook her head, exasperated, and came around to the edge of the dais. He met her at the steps and handed her down, her other gloved hand gently lifting her dress away from her heels as she descended.

“I knew you were a cat fancier, Selina, but I had no idea you were involved in rescue and conservation as well,” Bruce rumbled, tugging her fingers forward and dropping a light kiss on them as soon as she was steady on her feet.

Selina offered a tight, insincere smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Bruce. Neglect and abuse of felines is a major problem—both in Gotham and abroad. This charity aims to assist both locally and globally.”

She took her hand back, subconsciously rubbing the glove where he’d kissed her. Bruce glanced around at the unusual decor and indicated one of the exhibits with a sweep of his hand.

“Is that why you held the ball here at the Natural History Museum? So you could use the exhibits as examples?”

“Exactly right,” Selina agreed. “Most of these animals were killed and taxidermied over eighty years ago, when there were no laws and no concept of protection for predators. The museum has no moral obligation to remove them, but they did agree to let us gussy them up to make our point.”

“The red certainly does that—startling and stark,” Bruce mused.

“Good. I hope it shocks a few of these socialites into a conscience,” Selina replied harshly.

She caught herself and sighed, smoothing her face into a more agreeable expression.

“Sorry, Bruce. Sometimes I look at the wealth floating around this city… and it breaks my heart for the less fortunate.”

“I understand completely,” Bruce agreed, his deep voice barely above a whisper.

Selina stifled a shiver. She broke eye contact with him and glanced around the bustling room. Bruce lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to her, noticing how she rubbed her arms.

“Are you cold? Here, take my jacket,” he offered, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine,” Selina insisted. “In fact, I should probably—”

“Hold that thought,” Bruce cut in as the quartet shifted into a jazz standard with a good beat. “Let’s dance, Selina.”

Overwhelming her protests with carefully cultivated charm, he enjoyed one dance with Selina Kyle, then released her to her duties. He made sure to pass in front of at least one reputable photographer while they were on the floor. It served Wayne Industries for him to be active on the charity circuit and the publicity served Selina, too. Her ambition was well known. Having some innocent fun was good for her image.

At dinner, Bruce found himself among a few older members of Gotham’s elite. He didn’t mind at all. He usually attracted crowds of vapid young women, but there were fewer than usual at this event. He shrugged to himself; perhaps they were mostly dog people. He seated himself next to a couple that had been friends of his parents, and spent the meal catching up with them and looking at photos of their grandchildren. He resisted the frequent urge to check his watch. They listened to various speakers, including Selina, that made impassioned pleas for funds to help the small cats of Gotham and the big cats of the world. When the hat was passed to accept donations, he dropped in his check.

Midnight came sooner than he expected, despite his impatience. He feigned tiredness and accompanied his parents’ friends out, making sure to exchange one last pleasantry with Selina before he left.

Once he was in his vehicle, Bruce touched base with Alfred. He was already waiting in a warehouse Bruce owned down by the river. Somehow, the streetlights in that part of town were always burning out and it was singularly difficult to get a good view of passing cars.

Bruce allowed himself a private moment of thought as he drove to the rendezvous point. There’d been an unusual sparkle in Selina’s eyes that night, the kind of look Bruce associated with hang gliding or watching your team win the Superbowl. He wondered what fueled her exhilaration. She had flirted with him during their single dance, her lithe figure indicating physical attraction even as her clever tongue said no in twenty different ways.

He’d happily take a lashing like that every day of the week if it meant he could see her more often. She only knew him as the playboy, however. He projected charm, irreverence, immaturity. Bruce knew it would never win over someone as driven as Selina. She was looking for an equal, a partner. As the Batman, he could never risk getting in so deep.

He pulled into a broad alley beside his building and depressed a button on the dash. A sturdy, well-oiled garage door raised up with hardly a sound. Bruce nosed the sports car inside and cut the engine. The garage door lowered behind him.

“Did you have a good time?” asked Alfred as Bruce tossed him the keys.

“I ran into the McAllisters. It was nice,” Bruce replied.

He carefully removed his tux jacket and handed it to Alfred, who draped it over one arm. Next came the slacks. Alfred had them both on a hanger before Bruce could blink. He placed his bow tie in Alfred’s waiting palm and added the cufflinks. The familiarity of years meant that no words needed to be exchanged.

When Bruce slipped his dress shirt off over his shoulders and reached for the hanger Alfred held, the older man slapped his hand.

“You'd best be about your business, Sir,” he reproved, taking the dress shirt away.

“And leave you to yours, I see,” Bruce chuckled.

He turned to the other vehicle in the warehouse.

“Batmobile, open,” he commanded.

The smooth, tinted hatch slid back and he leapt over the side into the driver’s seat. A push of a button set the seat to recline. As soon as he was horizontal, the Batmobile fitted him with his batsuit, hidden in the bowels of the vehicle. The engine roared to life as the seat brought him back up. Batman nodded once to Alfred and spun off into the night.

#batman #bruce wayne #selina kyle #llu writes #the purrfect crime #fanfiction #batman fanfiction

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