The Emerald Eye
Author's Note: For a brief synopsis, please visit my main page. Reviews and constructive criticism about my writing is encouraged, however, what you personally don't like about my ideas, or how you think I should change them, is NOT encouraged. It's a fanfic. Everyone has free will to write about whatever they want. That being said, this story is not perfect and will most likely not be historically accurate. However, I hope you enjoy it all the same.
A slender, slinky figure sat on the roof of an old building. She leaned over the ledge and examined the large complex next door. It was relatively new, but the modernized museum was home to rare antiques and artifacts worth more than millions combined. The security was top-notch; bullet-proof windows lined the bottom and middle floors, and at night a reinforced cage blocked the items from view on the inside, preventing any late-night window shoppers to come prowling. The third and fourth floors of the building did not have any windows, for they housed mainly paintings on the wall and various sculptures. Advanced heat-seeking lasers and movement sensors were built into every room and were turned on precisely at closing time, 8:00 p.m. sharp on weekdays and 10:00 p.m. on Saturday nights. It was now Sunday night, and even though the museum closed early at 5:00 p.m., there was a semi-truck that had been pulled up into the alleyway. Three armed guards stood watch and two more helped the movers unload something large and heavy that had been packed securely in a wooden crate.
She wasn't interested in that merchandise. Something that large would be incredibly expensive, to be sure, but to move it out of the museum without being noticed was out of the question. She wasn't interested in money, anyway. Well, not entirely. She sat slightly hunched over, with one leg propped up onto the ledge. She put one elbow over her knee and watched as the movers did their work. She would not infiltrate the museum tonight. There was ample time to examine the place and its treasures before hurrying in and stealing mindlessly. She was above all that. She was above the common bank robber. She even considered herself to be a type of Robin-Hood figure, even though the general public didn't recognize her as such. However, she usually kept herself hidden in the shadows, and the media had focused on other figures like the Joker and the political events with Harvey Dent. Gotham City used to be an unimaginable hellhole, terrorized by gangsters and the mafia, until the most unusual thing happened. A man dressed in a bat suit started to help the police. At first, she thought it was inconceivable. Nobody could be that crazy, and the police couldn't possibly be accepting help from a lunatic dressed as a bat. Nevertheless, the arrests started to outnumber the crimes, and apparently this "Batman" was the savior of Gotham City. He had the tools and he had the stealth and fighting skill of a ninja, and people had claimed to see him do things no other living human could possibly do. It was all total rubbish, in her eyes. Somehow, for some reason, a very strong, powerful man decided to cloak himself and do things his own way rather than join the police squad. She smiled and shrugged as she thought about it. She couldn't blame him.
She first broke the law when she became fed up with the mafia controlling everything. Even though Gotham City was suffering, she decided not to let others suffer for man's corruption. She tried to do everything in her power to help, but when it got too overwhelming as a citizen, she decided to take matters into her own hands under the stealth of night and disguise, and try a different route. The rich bureaucrats of Gotham were total scum, and they did not deserve to have their precious commodities stared at and admired while they made money to hand over to corrupt judges and officials. Their expensive little toys would be hers to collect. A wealthy philanthropist would have items such as antiques, golden statues, ancient greek paintings, or anything else on display in a museum or private building. She thought it was utter nonsense – just a way to show off the goods. They didn't give a damn what those items meant in terms of historical importance, and they probably didn't even know what consisted of half their inventory. So she decided to start stealing them. Some of the items she would keep and sell to a private and trustworthy collector outside of Gotham, but that was rare. Most of the items would be converted into cold, hard, untraceable cash and then she would donate that to various charities, veterinary clinics, humane societies, and SPCA's throughout Gotham. Everything she traded was outside of the state, and usually the investigators weren't very concerned with a rich man's commodity – murders, drug deals, and bank robberies always had the utmost priority.
Her tactics were only known through the rich communities, therefore, hardly any of the general Gotham public knew about her. The richies called her the "Cat Burglar," and nobody knew if it was a man or a woman that was pulling the jobs. She would steal on occasion, but made sure it wasn't often enough to leave a pattern, and she never left a clue behind. She had started out wearing the usual cliché robbery garb – a ski mask, black gloves, black pants, boots, and a black sweatshirt – but found out early in the game it was too easy to trace. It was dangerous since she was a woman, and it would be easy for forensics to find hair or an eyelash, so she stopped. It was only until after she was dubbed the "Cat Burglar," and when Batman first started to make his appearance to catch other masked sickos around Gotham, she decided to "copycat" the idea. She fashioned her own costume and headpiece out of black leather and spandex into a type of jumpsuit. The jumpsuit was well-protected with black thigh shields that were sewn into the leather and blended in with the rest of the outfit, and a black leather bustier with an internal, plastic-like plate fitted around her torso and laced up behind the back. The bustier was a little heavy and very hard to the touch; it was made out of a flexible plastic material the cops used to protect themselves from bullets. She didn't know if the bustier would stop a bullet, but it would definitely protect her from any knife wounds or punches. She had never run into a fight, but she had decided to take the utmost precaution – dressing head to toe in leather automatically earned you unwanted attention in Gotham City, especially at night. Knee-length, three-inch heel, leather boots completed the outfit, but she made sure they were comfortable enough to run in and practical enough to use without falling over by adding lots of sole-pads and shin support. She had decided to take her name "Cat Burglar" to a literal level – she was Catwoman. Her headpiece clung tightly to her head and her hair was safely tucked in. Only her eyes and mouth were exposed. The headpiece was attached to the jumpsuit almost like a hood – all she had to do was slip the jumpsuit on, lace up the bustier, and then pull her mask over her head. Tucking in the hair was the hardest part. As a type of inside joke, she decided to sew tiny leather cones on top of the headpiece to fashion cat ears. To add a little theatrics, she put dark eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara on her eyes and eyelashes, used a pale concealer on her skin, and even used lipstick a shade a little too red she wouldn't use out in public. It wasn't very bright, and it wasn't a fire-engine red, but it was the color of blood and it was too dramatic to wear out in the civilian world. Not only was it a dramatic effect, but it also helped hide her real identity. She definitely wasn't as pale or used such vivid makeup in person.
A black cat purred and let out a soft mew as it rubbed against her other leg, begging for attention. She glanced down at it and then back at the large truck.
"Almost done, sweetie," she whispered softly. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward even more. The men were unloading a smaller box, passing it from one to the other. Eventually a guard took it inside the complex. That was the one she was waiting for.
From what she had researched, the Emerald Eye was delivered all the way from Europe by a wealthy philanthropist that no longer believed it was of use to him, so he passed it to the highest bidder. Catwoman had used the internet and some trustworthy sources to gain the information about where the Emerald Eye was to be handed down, and finally, two weeks ago, word got around that Bruce Wayne had the highest bid. It was shipped to his art and history museum in Gotham City. It was the newest museum that had been built after he restored his hospital and revamped his entire committee. Bruce Wayne was the most eligible bachelor in Gotham City ever since his return two years ago, and a lot of things had happened since then. Not only was he the most eligible, young and dashingly handsome bachelor, but he was also the highest donator towards charities and held numerous balls, parties, donation galas, scholarship award ceremonies, et cetera. Most of his donations went towards children's foundations, education, and needy families. Even though she admired his generosity, she didn't have the slightest interest in his work. She had never attended one of his charity balls before; however, this upcoming weekend would be the first. He was holding a grand-opening event for his new museum, and the who's-who of rich, clueless philanthropists and celebrities would all be there. She decided to see what sort of party favors he would have there, and she was secretly delighted to find that the Emerald Eye would be one of the main events.
Catwoman stood up and examined the museum one last time, then turned her back and slowly walked across the roof of the building. The black cat followed her. She came upon the edge on the other side and stared down at a fire escape, then glanced at the cat.
"Has all the surveillance made you restless, Isis?"
The cat peered up at her with yellow eyes. Her tail twitched back and forth.
Catwoman smiled, leaned over, and offered the back of her hand. The cat rubbed its head against it, and she used a knuckle to rub its ear. "Me, too. Don't worry. Another week and we'll have some fun again."