Ain't It Fun?

Thursday, February 17th, 2011, 11:47 PM

Gotham City

Robinson Park - North Rooftop

Batman's cape rippled in the winter wind as he perched on the edge of the old clock tower. Below them, Gotham spread out like a circuit board, all glowing connections and dark spaces where the current didn't reach.

"You're late," Selina said from somewhere behind him.

"Traffic."

She laughed, that throaty sound that always made him think of velvet and trouble. "Right. The big bad Batman stuck behind a bus."

Bruce turned to find her lounging against an air conditioning unit, already in full Catwoman gear. The purple was gone tonight, replaced by sleek black that made her nearly invisible against the shadows.

"Morrison's been quiet since his operation got hit," he said, settling into their usual conversation pattern. Business first, then whatever game they were playing.

"Funny how losing half your clients tends to slow down business."

"Three girls from that trafficking ring are still missing."

Selina's expression shifted, playful to serious in a heartbeat. "I know. Working on it."

"Working on it how?"

"My way."

Batman studied her face, looking for tells. Something was different tonight. She was more guarded than usual, and Selina Kyle was never guarded without reason.

"I know everything about this City," Bruce said. "...Who's the kid, Selina?"

Selina smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe I've got my own Boy Wonder now."

The words hung in the air between them. Bruce felt something cold settle in his stomach. Selina working alone was manageable. Selina with a protégé was a different kind of problem entirely.

"Selina."

"What?" Her voice carried that dangerous edge that meant he was pushing into territory she didn't want to discuss.

"If you're training someone, if you're bringing a kid into this life—"

"Like you did with Dick? And now Jason?" Each name was sharp as a blade. "At least my kid chose this. Nobody forced him into it to process their own trauma."

Bruce stepped closer, cowl casting his face in deeper shadow. "Who is he...?"

"Someone who understands that sometimes the system needs a push." Selina moved away from the AC unit, putting distance between them. "Someone who knows that legal doesn't always mean right."

"Age?"

"Old enough to make his own choices."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting." She paused at the edge of the roof, preparing to leave. "He's not your problem, Bruce. Not yet, anyway."

And then she was gone, vanishing into the maze of fire escapes and shadows that was her domain. Bruce stood alone on the rooftop, processing the conversation and not liking any of the conclusions he was reaching.

Selina Kyle had found herself an apprentice. Someone young, skilled, important and dangerous enough to make Selina Kyle invest in them.

This was going to be a problem.

Friday, February 18th, 2011, 4:30 PM

Ted Grant's Gym

The Bowery

Ted watched Malik work the heavy bag, studying the way he moved. Kid had come a long way from the angry teenager who'd stumbled through the door two years ago. His footwork was clean now, combinations flowing together like he'd been doing this his whole life.

But more importantly, he'd learned control. Ted had seen too many young fighters who could throw punches but couldn't handle the weight that came with really hurting someone. Malik had crossed that line and come back intact.

"Time," Ted called.

Malik stepped back from the bag, breathing hard but controlled. Sweat darkened his shirt, but his hands were steady as he unwrapped his gloves.

"How'd I look, old man?"

"Stop calling me that... and it was good. Like you're ready for the next step."

Malik paused in his unwrapping, a small smirk on face forming. "Next step?"

Ted walked over to a locked cabinet in the corner of his office, pulling out a set of keys. Inside were weapons that most gyms would never see. Knives, batons, practice swords, even a few firearms secured in a separate compartment.

Malik eyes widened with excitement. "You've proven you can handle yourself in a fight," Ted said, selecting a practice knife with a rubber blade. "Now let's see how you do with tools."

Malik accepted the knife, testing its weight and balance. The grip felt natural in his hand, like he'd been holding blades his whole life.

"Basic grip is like this," Ted demonstrated with his own practice blade. "But the knife isn't just a weapon. It's a tool. Can cut rope, pick locks, create pressure on someone without having to hurt them."

They spent the next hour going through basic knife work. Defensive positions, how to hold the blade for different purposes, the difference between threatening and attacking. Malik absorbed it all like a sponge.

"Try this combination," Ted said, moving into a demonstration. "Feint high, come in low, but don't commit. Just pressure."

Malik mimicked the movement, but his execution was cleaner than Ted's demonstration. More fluid. Like he was improving on the technique even as he learned it.

"Good. Now let's talk about anatomy."

Ted pulled out a medical diagram, the kind doctors used to explain procedures to patients. Human body, all the important bits labeled clearly.

"Fighting's not about being the toughest guy in the room," Ted explained. "Those guy go down or die quickly."

He continued, "It's about understanding how bodies work. Pressure points, nerve clusters, places where a little force goes a long way."

He pointed to spots on the diagram. "Here, here, and here. Light pressure causes pain. More pressure causes unconsciousness. Too much pressure..."

"Causes death," Malik finished.

"Right. The difference between those three things is usually just a matter of how much force you apply and how long you apply it." Ted looked up from the diagram. "That's why control matters more than strength."

Malik studied the chart with an intensity that made Ted slightly uncomfortable. Kid was memorizing every detail, cross-referencing it with what he already knew about human anatomy from his psychology courses.

"Show me," Malik said.

Ted demonstrated on a practice dummy, showing how to find nerve clusters, how to apply pressure that would disable without causing permanent damage. Malik followed along, his fingers finding the right spots immediately.

"Like this?" Malik pressed a point on the dummy's neck. His technique was perfect.

"Yeah, exactly like that. How'd you know?"

"Makes sense anatomically. Nerve runs right under the muscle there, so if you press..." Malik adjusted his grip slightly. "Maximum impact with minimum force."

Ted nodded, but something cold was settling in his chest. Kid was learning this stuff too fast, understanding it too well. Most fighters took months to develop this kind of anatomical awareness. Malik was getting it in hours.

And honestly, it worried him.

"Let's work on staff techniques," Ted said, switching to a different weapon.

The pattern repeated. Malik absorbed the basics instantly, then began improvising improvements. His movements became more acrobatic, incorporating flips and spins that shouldn't have worked but somehow did.

"Where'd you learn to move like that?" Ted asked after watching Malik flow through a combination that mixed boxing, knife work, and gymnastics.

"Selina's been teaching me gymnastics and acrobatics. Helps with the jobs we're on."

Right. The jobs. Ted tried not to think too hard about what kind of work Malik was doing with Selina Kyle. Kid was smart, skilled, and had a code that kept him from becoming a monster. But watching him work, seeing how naturally violence came to him, Ted couldn't shake the feeling that they were building something dangerous.

Same Day, 7:15 PM

Viewing Gallery Above the Gym

Selina watched from the shadows above Ted's gym, using the old observation deck that had been built for boxing matches back in the day. She'd been coming here more often lately, checking on Malik's progress.

What she saw worried her.

Kid was moving through a knife drill with the kind of fluid precision that took most people years to develop. His understanding of human anatomy was becoming encyclopedic. He could disable someone six different ways without causing permanent damage, or kill them if necessary.

More disturbing was how natural it all seemed to him. Violence wasn't something Malik had to psyche himself up for anymore. It was just another tool in his toolbox, like picking locks or reading people.

She'd created something dangerous, and he was only fifteen years old.

No matter how much she ignored it, the question always lingered in the back of her head. Did she make the right decisison in giving him a choice to stay?

During a break in training, she watched Malik and Ted discuss nerve points and pressure techniques. Malik's questions were clinical, analytical. He wanted to understand exactly how much force was required for different outcomes.

The kid she'd found two years ago had been angry and desperate. This young man was becoming something else entirely. Someone who could hurt people with scientific precision and sleep soundly afterward.

Selina thought about her conversation with Batman the night before. Bruce's concern hadn't been unfounded. She was training someone who could become very dangerous very quickly.

But stopping now wasn't an option. Malik was in too deep, knew too much, had too many skills to just walk away and become a normal well adjusted person. The world they'd introduced him to didn't allow for retirement at fifteen.

Below her, Malik was practicing a combination that mixed boxing, knife work, and acrobatics into something that looked like deadly ballet. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Selina Kyle had spent her life walking the line between hero and villain, never quite committing to either side. Now she was watching someone she'd helped create who might not have that luxury.

Which side would he choose?