Catwoman and Bane are owned by DC Comics.
All characters are 18+
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Catwoman: Desperate Escape
Breaking in through high security one thing, breaking
out
was something else entirely.
For one, she didn't have the luxury of tools, maps, blueprints, and the peaceful silence of her safehouse. Even worse was that these walls that trapped her weren't Blackgate.
Here in Arkham... Selina's job was significantly harder.
One thing was clear: she couldn't escape on her own.
There was, however, one small miracle: a fire in the cell blocks. Selina didn't start it and didn't know who did. But whoever it was, Selina owed them big. For the time being, Arkham security was housing the spillover Blackgate inmates - like Selina - all together out in an open hall. And these unusual sleeping arrangements came with
opportunity.
Selina could smell it in the air. A tension among the orange suits that was only getting worse. It was only a matter of time before a big fight broke out. And a good chance from there to turn into a prison riot. It would be too easy for one or two prisoners to get lost in all that chaos. Way too easy... especially for a woman with Selina's finesse.
But when this powder keg went off, Selina would need some back-up. Catwoman was quick, agile, damn near untouchable in a straight fight. But brawls were different. Too many men, too many variables, too easy for someone to get a lucky shot. Selina was going to need some muscle.
And it just so happened that her muscle was moved out of the burned out cell block, same as her. Selina was already feeling confident as she eased her way between the village of mismatched cots and bunk-beds. She couldn't imagine her would-be partner wanting to stay in this dump. A few short words with him and a new partnership would be born.
First she had to find him.
Keeping her head down and her profile small usually got inmates to leave her alone. Hunching her shoulders forward did some good to lessen the profile of her bust. The point was to seem less womanly and thus attracted fewer wandering eyes. Unfortunately, she couldn't do much about her hips.
Normally, Selina was proud of her figure. But here, within these prison walls, her womanly body would only get her into trouble.
Trouble like two pig-faced brutes, their orange jumpsuits tied around at the waist to reveal hairy potbellies half-covered by stained tank tops and thick arms spattered with obnoxious tattoos.
One of them reached out to grab her arm. Selina felt revulsion at his touch, bristling with silent anger.
"Hey, sweetheart, what's the hurry?" He drawled, his voice rough and raspy. His buddy closed in from the opposite side, blocking Selina off between two bunk-beds. She could feel his bulk looming from behind.
"It's rude to walk by and not say hello." Said the other man. Selina flashed her gaze over her shoulder, noting the facetats. She wanted to roll her eyes.
Selina fought the urge to wrench her arm free. She would need them relaxed for the next part.
Even so, she could feel their eyes upon her, leering at her long legs and the swell of her hips that not even her baggy jumpsuit could not hide. Both men were shameless with their obvious desire and it made Selina's skin crawl. She didn't even want to imagine the sorts of twisted fantasies that were no doubt playing in their minds. The Cat had crept onto dangerous ground - these were men who likely hadn't seen a real woman in years. Certainly not a woman like
her.
"Boys." She greeted, her tone coming too sweet to be sincere. A calm smile was upon her lips, well rehearsed. She drew her arm out of the first man's grubby hand. He let her go, chuckling. Clearly, he believed they had her trapped. Selina looked forward to ending that delusion. "Didn't your mothers ever teach you that it's rude to hassle a lady?"
The meathead behind her let out a dark laugh. She felt his bulk close in. Goosebumps skittered up her back.
"You ain't no lady." He said, his words coming out like crunching rock. "Not when you're wearing orange like the rest of us."
"Yeah. You're a bad girl, kitty cat." Added the man in front of her. He closed in slowly as well, leaving Selina with rapidly diminishing space. But still she waited. Her moment was coming. The man before her was smirking, lecherous ideas clear upon his face. "We've heard some stories."
Selina matched the man's putrid look with a kittenish smile. Dark eyelashes fluttered over her sharp, green eyes.
"Have you?
It was play-flirting. Something to lull their guard away quickly. It was too good to be true, obviously. But brutes like these men always wanted to believe the fantasy, no matter how outlandish or unlikely. Selina saw the man flash his eyes towards his buddy - a brief moment of self-awareness from their sort. But then they shared a nod and their smiles grew. They drew closer.
"Heard you know how to treat a man." Said one.
"A guy can get lonely in Arkham." Said the other. "Not a lot of
feminine energy
around here."
The meathead ran his tongue over his yellowed teeth. The other reached out, closing his fat fingers over Selina's wrist. He leaned in close, so close that Selina nearly winced at the stench from his mouth.
"So what's the hurry? You got somewhere to be?" He prodded, laughing deep and slow.
Down low, past his rounded belly, Selina caught the faint outline of his no doubt hardened prick - sure enough, there was nothing to write home about. Selina again fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Enough of this.
Selina took a deep breath. She looked up, beaming at the two men.
"As a matter of fact..."
It was over in seconds. Thugs like these men always,
always
underestimated just how much damage a woman like Selina could do. It wasn't about overpowering. It was about crippling. A straight fight was the Bat's domain. The Cat, on the other hand... she played
dirty.
A snapped wrist. A kick to the groin. A dislocated knee. Nails across the face.
Two grown men crying on the floor.
Selina took a moment to admire her handiwork. Even with guards rushing to the scene, the Cat couldn't resist.
She knelt down, her full lips pursed in mock sympathy. Like a mother, she cooed sweetly, drawing the back of her hand over one man's tearful face. He clutched at his ruined knee, the predatory hunger in his eyes replaced with