2 A Wrinkle In Time-part 1

Words 4,304

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You learn quite a few things about Selina Kyle during your first meeting.

First and foremost, she wears clothes that'd look more appropriate on a back-alley prostitute than a Gotham socialite.

Second, she has cats. A lot of cats. There's one wherever you look, lounging on desks or sun-bathing near the windowsill. You've only been here for ten minutes and you're pretty sure you have cat hair in every exposed part of your body.

Your eyes are attracted downwards of their own accord, the small little lizard brain part of you seizing control.

Ms. Kyle smiles indulgently.

"Oh you're so adorable," she exclaims, reaching over to pinch at your cheeks. "such a sarcastic little boy. I thought I was going to have to deal with some introvert nerd."

Wow, that was actually kind of rude.

You swat at her claw-like hands, scowling at the socialite reclining in her chair.

"You even pout just like one of my cats," she strokes the orange one resting on her shoulders with almost motherly affection. "don't make me get the spray bottle." she purrs.

You do not reply, not willing to stoop to her level. Selina pouts when you turn away.

"No need to be like that," she says. "just a little harmless teasing. So, Cadmus, tell me about yourself?"

Tell me about yourself? Really, the worst icebreaker in modern history? What did she want you to even talk about? You doubt she wants to hear you rant about the wave function or the Arrow of Time postulate, or hear about the various fencing styles you learned over the years.

She looks at you with open curiosity, you can't see any judgment in those emerald-green eyes of hers.

"I like to garden," you say honestly.

"Oh great, another Ivy," you hear her mutter.

"Sorry?" Who's Ivy?

"Nothing, I just wasn't expecting that," she admits.

Why does no one expect that? Was there a height restriction on gardening or something?

"It's calming and it helps me think." She nods.

"I'm the same way with my little treasures," she pulls a tubby into her arms and gives you what could only be described as a genuine smile, nothing like the Cheshires she gave you before. "it makes you feel safe doesn't it, like a breath of fresh air?"

You can't but help but look at her in surprise. "Yeah, that's exactly it," you admit.

"A bit of advice, Cadmus, don't ever let it go. Little things like that are what keeps us sane in this crazy world of ours."

"No worries on that front, Ms. Kyle."

You have a little garden of your own at Gotham Elementary. You couldn't imagine giving up on it. The thought of letting them wilt and die brings back bad memories of Haley Baxter and Jimmy Reddy.

"Please call me, Selina, after all, we'll be getting to know each other quite well."

"Alright...Selina."

"Is there anything else you want to share," she leans forward and your eyes are unwillingly drawn down. "something that makes you special?"

You nod vigorously at her question. She smiles just like a Cheshire cat.

It dies when you start your lecture.

"So the Arrow of Time is one of the most challenging postulates in the field of thermodynamics focused primarily on the idea of entropy, the universe's general direction towards disorder!"

Oh, her eyes are already glazing over, well just got to make it interesting.

Ten minutes later, having discussed in great-detail particle-wave theory and the basic concepts of time dilation in relation to string theory and quantum entanglement, you fall back into your seat with a content umph, satisfied that you imparted a significant amount of information in the best way possible.

Ms. Kyle's eyes are closed, you realize, no doubt she's trying to visualize what you were talking about. Maybe visual aids next time. Then you hear the snores.

You snap your fingers and Ms. Kyle bolts up from her reclined position. "Oh, yes, very...interesting Cadmus, very informative, such a bright young child." she pats your cheek half-heartedly.

"Make yourself at home, I'm going to-" she yawns loudly. "take a well-deserved nap."

You shrug and go about rifling through her voluminous pantry, piling your arms high with chips and snacks before crashing on her couch.

Your eyes fly open in terror when a horde of cats pile on behind you, drowning you in a tide of fat and fur.

You struggle to resist, pushing with all your might, but they don't budge, taking up all the space available and pinning you beneath the sheer weight of them.

"Get off, furball," you snap. The fat tubby hisses at you before nuzzling into your side.

Sighing, you make yourself as comfortable as possible, preparing to be held hostage as a heat generator by these dastardly felines for the foreseeable future.

That would become a common occurrence whenever you were at Ms. Kyle's apartment, much to your chagrin.

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A year after its inaugural opening, Gothic was now the place to be for anyone who wanted a taste of Gotham's nightlife.

The line to the front door wraps around the corner filled with Gotham's socialities, the richest of the rich, and the wide doors are guarded by a team of bouncers.

The whole street has changed since Cobblepot's Conquest of the Diamond District, as the Gotham Herald had called it. Gothic had expanded again six months after its opening, cannibalizing a game store and comic book shop that you used to frequent, to satisfy its ever-growing clientele.

Then there was the old China Market where you used to buy groceries. It had been reduced to rubble and was replaced with Madame Chantel's House of Pleasures, a brothel.

Prostitution is a crime in Gotham, but seeing as many of the city's finest were the brothel's most loyal customers as well as the D.A., you have no doubt that Madame Chantel will be a rich woman for quite a while.

Not to even mention her boss, Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin, as Selina likes to call him.

Not a day had gone past where you don't think of Danny, of how he died alone and suffered because of one man's petty pride, and how you were helpless to stop it.

The roiling pit of anger in your stomach flares in response to your thoughts. It has only grown more intense since that day, festering inside of you like a parasite, needling at the back of your mind, Pleading, no, demanding you to make Cobblepot suffer.

So far, you've been able to push the little voice into the recess of your mind, but it's become harder with every passing day to not just give in.

It had started last year, at least that's the earliest you could remember. You just seemed to become irritated at everything. Ms. Ergane's wise words became patronizing lectures, Selina's teasing became condescending barbs, the orphanage was an unending burden of not lashing out at anyone who annoyed you - and there was a lot of them.

Even the cats became too much at times.

Jazz music filters out through Gothic's doors, and through its wide windows, can see people dancing under multi-colored light, in the spot where the old red counter used to be, where you used to sit on a rickety stool and gorge yourself on greasy pizza, telling Danny about your day.

Your heart stings at the memory. It only fans the flames of anger, rising up like a bonfire inside of you.

You clench your fists. If there was anything lighter than a cinder block under your grip, it would have been reduced to dust under the pressure. There are only four bouncers out front, you could take them before they even realized what was happening.

Cloaked figures walk in groups of three and four, up and down the streets, forcing undesirables off and welcoming in well-dressed socialites with open arms. Penguin's thugs, his enforcers taken from mafiosos who found more money working for him than with Maroney or Falcone.

It would be so easy, the voice that sounds just like your own whispers conspiratorially. But it's not, it's...darker, angrier, like a baying hound overcome with bloodlust.

You pant harshly as the wall before you crumble in a flurry of shattered stone and dust. Wiping the sheetrock and splinters off your hands, you turn to the next building.

It takes another three before the roiling tides calm.

By the time you were done, spider-web cracks run up the sides of the derelict building like Arachne had decided to make it her nest.

Thank Gotham for urban sprawl. It's given you more than a few options on how to vent your stress.

Throwing pebbles at a pond doesn't seem to have the same effect as breaking a building open with your bare hands, not that it matters that said building was teetering on its foundations and would have collapsed without you.

"I didn't take you as one for altruistic demolition work, Cadmus." You freeze where you are, slowly turning to the figure at the end of the empty street.

Selina Kyle watches you with a bemused eye, either brilliantly hiding her surprise at seeing you collapse a two-story building, or just genuinely unimpressed.

"I never thought to see you around here, Selina." You've never even seen her a stone's throw from the slums actually.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Cadmus." She looks at you with arms crossed, expecting an explanation.

"It helps me stop thinking," you get out. The first dregs of exhaustion have already taken their hold on you. You just want to go to sleep.

"The plants don't do it for you anymore?" she asks casually as she walks towards you, unworried by the heaps of trash and dirt under her feet.

"A different kind of therapy." Selina nods in understanding. Her dress is strange. First of all, it's not even a dress. It was a skin-tight bodysuit that looked to be made of latex.

"What are you wearing?" you ask. That definitely was not her usual wear, for one, steel-like claws shine in the moonlight.

"My workout clothes. You're not the only one who has to burn some stress." Her eyes glint mischievously.

"And how did you find me?" Can she just give you a straight answer?

"I was in the neighborhood when I heard all these awful noises, and I just had to know what was going." Apparently, not.

"You know what else they say, curiosity killed the cat." You bite out. She looks unruffled by the statement, lounging against a nearby wall.

"Well, it's a good thing cats have nine lives, now, isn't it?" She wraps her arm around your shoulders gently.

"I think it's time to clear the air between us, don't you think?" you nod in acceptance. She's already seen everything, or she wouldn't have stopped you. "Good, let's go home then."

"Super strength," Selina hums to herself. "not exactly the first superpower I would have expected. Any reason why you didn't share such a fascinating thing with me?"

"There wasn't exactly a box for me to fill out, now was there?" You wouldn't have filled it out if there was.

Selina sighs in exasperation at your answer. "I'm not your enemy, Cadmus. You don't need to hide anything from me. I'm here to help."

You sincerely doubt that. Selina frowns at the look on your face.

Then she snaps her fingers. "I know just the solution!" she flies out of her seat and into the kitchen. You sit awkwardly on the couch unwillingly holding onto the tubby that had taken up residence on your lap.

Five minutes later, she returns with two steaming mugs. The room is filled with the overpowering smell of chocolate. "Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, the perfect way to get out of a funk."

Taking a deep gulp, you gasp in pain when your tongue is immediately burnt in liquid heat.

Selina laughs loudly from where she's seated next to the fireplace, curled up just like a cat.

You give her a sour look before gingerly sipping from the cup. You unconsciously hum as the sweet taste overwhelms your senses.

"So, mind sharing with me what got you angry enough to tear through a couple of apartment buildings like they were tissue paper?" she asks as you finish the cup with a sigh of relish.

"Do you remember about that diner that went up in flames on Easton street, a couple of years back?"

Selina hesitates for a second, before nodding.

"Something about a gas leak, the shop next to it got eaten up too. Damn shame, they made good brisket." She says. The tabby in her arms purrs loudly when she reaches up to scratch the back of his ears.

What would a woman like Selina Kyle be doing on the outskirts of Gotham's slums? Maybe the same thing she was doing today.

You take a deep breath. There's no going back from this, but you have to take the chance.

"It wasn't an accident. The owner was murdered." Selina's eyes narrow.

"And, just how do you know this?" she asks slowly.

"Penguin did it to get back at me." The tabby yowls indignantly as he's dropped to the floor.

"Tell me everything," she says with hard eyes. You leave out nothing in your story.

Selina's eyes narrow and her hands flex like she had claws as you go through your encounter with Penguin. You gloss over how exactly you took on four full-grown adults at nine years old.

If Selina notices your omission, she doesn't point it out.

By the time you finish, you're a bundle of nerves and emotions, anger at Cobblepot, grief for Danny, and relief at getting off your chest warring inside of you.

Selina sits silently for a few long moments, stroking her tabby while keeping her eyes locked with yours.

"It must have been hard for you to share to something like that. But I'm happy that you trust me enough to open up like this." she finally says. There's none of her usual teasing, only gratefulness, and seething anger.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and neither of you looked like you were going to be the one to break it.

"So..." you start, "any reason you were walking through Gotham's slums dressed up as a dominatrix?"

Selina chuckles in response. "You're not the only one who has secrets, Cadmus. But, it's only right that I clear the air." She leans forward, the latex hugging the soft curve of her breasts. "I'm Catwoman."

Well, you weren't expecting that. Then with a shock, everything falls into place. The latex, the claws, the goggles, and most importantly, the cats!

It all made so much sense.

"How do you even know what a dominatrix is?" you give her a dry look in response.

"Hmm, kinky," she says aloud. Was she expecting you to stammer excuses? She pouts when you don't react. The room lapses into silence once again.

"So," you start. "where do we go from here?" A Cheshire smile crosses her features.

"Tomorrow, you start your internship."

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As you get up to leave and return to the orphanage, Selina stops you at the door.

"I know you don't like living at the orphanage," She begins. That was an understatement.

"And there's more than enough space here for just little old me," she bites her lip, looking almost shy and out of her depth. She is right though, the expansive apartment almost seems to echo with your voices.

"Are you asking to adopt me?" You ask.

"No! Well, yes...no, oh this is too hard, it's more like a legal guardian, you can stay here, no leaky roofs or annoying roommates," apparently she's forgotten about the cats.

"How does that sound?"

You almost recoil in shock, like you've been whiplashed. She wants to adopt you, no she wants to become your legal guardian. Does that mean you have to change your last name?

Cadmus Kyle, you shudder internally. No, you were perfectly happy with your name.

Selina watches you with apprehensive eyes. You're both on unfamiliar ground.

"I-I accept," you say eventually. Her eyes light up in excitement. "on one condition."

"What would that be?" a bit of trepidation flits through her eyes.

"I'm keeping my last name." She snorts.

"Cadmus Kyle, I don't know, I kind of like the sound of that." She reaches up and ruffles your hair. You half-heartedly swat it away.

"Deal! Oh, we're going to have so much fun!" she giggles like a child, throwing her arms around and pressing herself against you.

You hesitate for a second, before returning her embrace.

I could get used to this, you decide.

"Cadmus be a dear and grab me a bottle of wine," Selina calls out from her room.

What are you, her errand boy?

You groan but acquiesce nonetheless. Diamond, Selina's orange tabby, hisses in irritation when you plop him down on a silk cushion as you rise from your seat.

It's been only a few months since you moved into Selina's apartment, but strangely enough, it feels like you've been here all along.

It's almost unnerving how quickly you had learned your way around the vast apartment.

Sometimes at night, you didn't even have to open your eyes to walk down the steps to get to the kitchen.

Although, you're never able to stop yourself from tripping over the horde of cats napping in corners or smack dab in the middle of the floor, or accidentally stepping on their tails.

You still don't know how many cats she owns, at this point, you're too afraid to ask.

Gotham's skyline glimmers below you. If you squint hard enough, you could almost make out where the orphanage is.

It feels like you're in an entirely different world up here, separated from the crime and poverty that used to be a staple of your life.

And now you're living in the most expensive apartment complex in Gotham, fetching Chardonnay for a kleptomaniac Cat woman.

Heh, Cat woman. Honestly, you could see yourself having a future in stand-up. At least, the time powers would come in handy when the audience starts throwing tomatoes.

An idea glimmers into existence as you fill the glass with wine. You've stopped time, slowed it down, and even sped it up. Maybe you could speed it up enough to age the wine.

After all, the older the wine is, the better it's supposed to taste, at least that's what you've heard from other adults.

Not that you would know, no, Selina Kyle was a responsible guardian who would never let her under-age ward near alcohol.

You stretch your arm out towards the glass, mentally commanding the wine to age.

You have no idea what you're doing, you realize belatedly as your gut clenches and the world fades into a beam of light connecting you to the glass.

The wine begins to bubble violently, the glass teeters and shakes on the table and you have a sinking feeling that you've made a serious mistake.

Then the rumbling stops and the wine shifts to a darker yellow color than it was before in the bottle.

You eye the glass suspiciously, half-expecting it to explode in your face as you approach.

Luckily, it doesn't. Yet.

Selina looks up from her magazine at your entrance. She's wearing what could be barely considered a robe, her hair is wet from the bath and you could almost see-

You let out a shout as you almost trip on Ruby, her Persian. The cat yowls in pain and flees into the corner. You barely stop the wine from overflowing and spilling onto the carpet.

"You should watch your step," she says idly, flicking through her magazine.

"I would if you were wearing something that wasn't scandalous to a stripper." you scowl.

She gracefully rises from the bed and your eyes are immediately glued, much to your consternation, to her flush skin. What the fuck is going on with you?

"I know I'm the most beautiful woman you've seen," she purrs as she takes the glass from your limp hand. "but you're going to have to learn to not fall head over heels at the first pretty face that smiles at you."

The problem is they don't even have to smile.

"Then what is this, you training me?"

"You can think of it like that, yes."

She sips the glass and immediately recoils. Your blood runs cold, Did you screw up?

"This, is amazing," she gets out. "what did you do to it?"

"Trade secret." you snip.

"I'm paying for your housing, there are no trade secrets in this house." She says sternly, all traces of sultriness long gone.

"You know how I have super strength?" she nods. "well I can also control time."

"Can you also control the weather, maybe fly?" she snarks, but her eyes are as wide as dinner plates.

"Haven't tried, do you have a narrow ledge? Maybe it's time to test it out."

"Okay," she snaps. "family talk." She rushes into her walk-in closet.

"Where are you going?" you call after her.

"To put on something that doesn't show skin. I need your head on straight and not staring at my tits."

Fair enough.

"So now, is there anything else you need to get off your chest? You're some demi-god or alien wearing a human skin suit?" she asks as she exits the closet wearing full long-sleeves and pants.

She didn't seem to realize that you could still stare. By her disappointed look, she could.

You pick at your skin. "Not that I'm aware of." She sighs in relief.

"Good, I've had enough surprises for today. So explain to me, what exactly you did to the wine."

You doubt she wants to know the specifics, much less could even understand it.

Hell, you don't really know what you did.

"I aged it," you say honestly.

"With your mind?" she asks with a skeptical look.

"I can crush cinder blocks with my hands, why is aging stuff so crazy?"

"Because everyone and their hill-billy cousin has super strength." she exclaims. "but time magic, well, I have never even heard of that before."

"I am full of surprises."

"You can say that again."

"I am full of surprises." You say with a straight face. She punches your arm.

"What else can you do?" she asks.

"I can stop time also, slow it down, and like with the wine, speed it up." she falls back into the pillows with a umph.

"That's insane...that's...that opens up so many possibilities!" she shoots back up into a sitting position doing beautiful things to her chest.

"We could make a whiskey empire!" she crows. "Oh, even better, you could help with me my heists. No worrying about cameras or guards, oh that'd be perfect!" her eyes gleam with anticipation. "But first, you'll need some training."

"I am not wearing a catsuit." You say flatly.

"Don't be such a bummer," she waves her hand. "we can negotiate that later. How about kitten for your name, every cape needs one."

"No."

When Selina said you would be starting your internship, you didn't think that would mean being pawned off to someone else to teach you.

That wasn't to say she hadn't, of course. You learned a lot while shadowing her at KyleCorp on how to run a business, and also how to balance a secret identity during her night-time activities.

But still, you weren't expecting this, of all things.

You eye the derelict building in front of you confusedly.

You look down at the business card. Yup. Right address. Wilson and Family Contracting Firm.

You see the same name on a rusted sign half-hanging from what looks like a junkyard.

One of the many members of Gotham's homeless population waves happily at you while pushing his cart overflowing with trash bags.

You don't make a point of noticing the trail of scarlet liquid following him.

The door opens ominously as you attempt to knock. Sunlight illuminates a dark and dusty hallway.

You can hear noises that sound like machine equipment echoing from inside.

This is supposed to be a construction company, according to Selina. and also one that specializes in demolition. She smiled that Cheshire smile when she said the small part.

She only does that when she's in on a secret, you're not. You see that smile far too often.

You warily walk through the halls, instinct and the pit in your stomach forcing you to look into the shadows and jump at every loud noise.

This has to be the wrong address. You tell yourself.

You're just walking deeper into some aspiring serial killer's house of horrors.

You harshly stamp down on the little voice telling you to turn back.

"Always forward, never back," you mutter to yourself.

The hall opens into a vast cavern. You make out catwalks hanging ominously above. Dim light filters from the windows overhead. The sounds of construction are still far away. Maybe that's where Mr. Wislon is.

"Welcome Mr. Orthys, we've been expecting you." an aristocratic voice says from above you.

You can see nothing more than a silhouette on top, some kind of long stick strapped to its back.

"Are you Mr. Wilson? I'm here for the internship." your voice echoes in the vast emptiness of the room.

The figure chuckles lowly. "Yes, but you haven't got the internship, yet."

"What?" you ask, suspicion and wariness seeping deep into your thoughts.

"Think of this, as your interview." he laughs and a little canister falls next to you with a dull thunk.

Then the world explodes in light, pain, and most of all, sound.....