Soaked hair clinging to her face, her clothes a mess—Selina Kyle looked nothing like the elegant thief Gotham knew her to be. As she slowly rose to her feet, she glared resentfully at Jack Kadere for a long moment before finally muttering, "Software that can erase a criminal record… that's what I've been after all along."
"Jack, please… help me this once," Selina pleaded, her voice low and almost vulnerable. "Give me the photos you took. I'll owe you."
Jack leaned back slightly, eyeing her with a half-smirk. "You really think that kind of software exists?"
Selina's eyes lit up, desperate for hope. "I heard rumors—always have. I've been searching for it, but this time I'm sure. Wayne Enterprises has it. That's why Miranda Tate approached me in the first place. Help me, just this once. Please?"
She looked utterly defeated—more like a drenched, cornered cat than Gotham's infamous Catwoman. But Jack didn't budge. He slowly shook his head.
"It hasn't served my purpose yet. So no, I'm not giving it to you."
Selina looked down, crushed. But Jack added, "However…"
Her head shot up.
Jack crooked a finger at her. "Come here."
With a suspicious look, she stepped closer.
"Squat," he said.
Cautiously, Selina did. The moment she lowered herself, Jack raised his hand and gave her a firm smack on the forehead.
Smack!
"Ow!" Selina cried, falling backward and clutching her now-red forehead. "What the hell was that for?!"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Think for a second. If she really had this so-called software, don't you think I would've just taken it from her myself? Why would I give up my leverage?"
Selina blinked. Right. She wasn't actually helping Miranda—she just needed the software. That changed things. Her eyes widened as realization dawned.
Jack leaned in slightly. "Do something for me, and if you succeed, I'll make sure your record's clean."
Selina straightened up. "What do you want me to do?"
"First, come with me. We've got someone to meet."
Jack grabbed his duffel bag and headed out the door. Selina trailed behind him, her damp clothes clinging awkwardly to her body. Heads turned as they walked down the street—after all, it wasn't every day you saw a gorgeous woman in such a disheveled state walking next to a man who clearly didn't care.
Selina gritted her teeth and bore the stares. If she wanted her record cleared, she had to.
About half an hour later, Jack stopped at an apartment complex, walked up to the second floor, and knocked firmly on a door.
Knock knock knock.
A few moments later, the door opened to reveal Laurel Lance, who stared curiously at the stranger beside Jack.
Tall. Stunning. Soaking wet and clearly agitated.
"She's with you?" Laurel asked.
"This is Selina Kyle," Jack said as he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "Your new instructor."
"New what?" Laurel and Selina said almost in unison, both staring at him in disbelief.
Jack tossed the duffel bag on the couch and sat down with a sigh. "Those are your new training clothes and gear. From now until further notice, Selina's in charge of your combat training."
Laurel blinked. "Wait—why her?"
Jack leaned back. "Because she knows how to survive out there. When she says you're good enough to go on solo runs and can trade blows with her without getting knocked flat, then you graduate."
Selina folded her arms. "Define 'graduate.'"
"Be able to fight her evenly and handle fieldwork alone," Jack clarified. "If you get her to that level, you'll get your video."
Selina let out a slow breath, saying nothing.
Laurel, still wrapping her head around the situation, spoke up. "And what about you? You're just... done teaching me?"
Jack shot her a glance. "What, getting attached? Didn't realize I'd end up triggering Stockholm Syndrome."
He stood, brushing his hands together. "Something more interesting came up. I'll be back when she's ready."
As he passed between them on his way to the door, he casually gave each of them a light slap on the rear. Laurel yelped in surprise, while Selina just rolled her eyes.
The door shut behind him, leaving the two women staring at each other in awkward silence.
Though Selina had been humbled by Jack earlier, she was still an experienced fighter, more than qualified to train Laurel. While they began settling into their roles, Jack headed off to continue working with Helena Bertinelli.
Thanks to Frank's instructions, the guards at the villa didn't stop Jack when he arrived. He made his way straight upstairs to Helena's room.
To his surprise, Helena seemed... brighter. After everything that had happened, she was laughing and talking as if nothing had occurred. Jack was pleased—he found it far more interesting when someone held their inner fire, even after defeat.
He asked Helena to show him the evidence she'd gathered against her father so far. There was a lot—bank statements, photos, coded ledgers—but nothing that could lock Frank up on serious charges.
"My father won't take me to any of the bigger operations," Helena admitted. "That's where I could get real evidence—but he never brings me along."
"I'm not going to collect it for you," Jack said, leaning back with a smirk. "But I can create the opportunities."
Helena's eyes lit up with determination. "That's all I need."
She took a step closer, her voice low and steady. "If they all start seeing me not as Frank Bertinelli's daughter, but as your woman... then no one will question why I'm around."
A sly smile spread across her face.
"So... got any tricks you want to try?"