Villains Collide

Violence fills the very fabric of the city of Gotham, it seems that there is a tragedy in every brick, soaked into the streets like blood and oil. Icons of crime rule this city behind the scenes, no matter how hard the detectives try to stop it. Delicious deviants with personal vendettas to never let that bat win, no matter how many times they are locked away or are thrown off buildings, denied any feeling.

Catwoman was numb to it all, whirling through the crisp fall night, heels clicking on the concrete rooftops. Running, running, jumping, flip...barely landed it. She couldn't concentrate. Only one life left and she wanted to hold on to it. She looked down at the card in her hand. The Joker card. He had been locked up at Arkham Asylum for a while, gained more scars, and even greater longing for destruction and chaos. Society thought having him institutionalized would eventually change the demon within, but no form of therapy ever worked. He was eventually left in complete solitude, except for the ravens that would carry his calling cards out to where ever they might land.

For almost a year she had been writing to him at Arkham, trying to fill the loneliness. The cold was creeping in, way deep down at the end of October and she had made the decision on that rooftop to break him out. Dangerous as it was, it was a risk she was willing to take to understand more of this darkness. Falling in love was dangerous, thinking of all those times before the fall, her former self, Selina was so naive. But Catwoman vehemently refused to let her guard down, it was always going to be so hard for her to trust, she always had to know too much, always having to get the last word and pick a fight. Her claws dug into the soft facade of the insane asylum, finding just the right areas to climb up in complete silence. She had felt that the entire escape plan had gone off too easy, but the van was ready and off they drove into the night.

He could not contain his amusement, driving down the winding narrow road out of Arkham, going faster than what would seem reasonable for even an insane person. He saw out of the corner of his eye she was not bothered by the manic driving. She loved cars, loved going fast, loved expensive things. No fear of dying, just fear of being alone. As they slowed to enter the neon-lit parking garage, the purple light reflected off of her skintight suit. It was a pinball machine of lustful chaos when they got to the hideout, a black velvet draped room suited for two Scorpios in search of their equal. It was an awakening. It had been such a long time since he had dressed up, covered his face with the carnival make-up, he had forgotten what the point of even doing it was. The Cat made it worth remembering that life is art. Life is a performance, a stage. We will make them look! And we will be long gone before they know that their diamonds and cars are missing.

She dipped the eyeliner brush into the black gel, whispered to him it would be okay as she outlined his eyes, as scarred as he was from numerous tortures throughout his life. The scars defined proudly in red, the white face and electric green hair restored to brilliance. He grabbed the purple velvet smoking jacket as she tightened the laces of her stiletto boots. They looked at each other and knew that tonight they would escape the demons, feed off the energy from each other and be able to, for the first time, survive the collision.