A/N: New story 'bout my two favorite characters. Duh. But this time they are put into a much more dire situation. Not sure how long this will be, but I will try to keep you updated. PLEASE read and review! They are helpful to me. And you know how much I love it when you do.... :P

So, I give you the beginning of... RETRIBUTION. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the characters in this story or anything else like that. They belong to Detective Comics.... Not me............... BUT this STORY and situations DO belong to me. XP

Retribution : Part One

Somebody's going to pay. That was the second thought that entered his mind when he found her. The first being, No!

He'd been tracking her movements with the aid of Oracle by her com link. When it stopped blinking on the Batmobile's onboard screen, he knew something was wrong.

The docks of Gotham Marina. That's where he found her. Pier nine.

No!

Rushing to her side, he fought the urge to vomit, his body's natural gag reflex, when he saw.

Somebody's going to pay.

Whoever that someone was had been merciless with her. Placing two fingers on the side of her neck, he barely recognized a pulse.

Trying to control his emotions, he cautiously slid his arms beneath her crumpled form to lift her. A horrified moan almost escaped his lips when he felt her body lose all rigidity. She was like a wet rag, limp in his hands.

But his feelings got the better of him when lifting her revealed the blood. Without meaning to, he let out a loud, bursting sob. She'd lost so much blood. So much.

As he carried her to the large black vehicle, he examined her injuries. Two knife wounds, one in her stomach, one in her side, both probably four or more inches deep. Likely the cause for the extreme loss of blood.

Her goggles had been shattered, which was nearly impossible, he'd made sure of it. Minor scratches marred her otherwise peaceful face. The rest of her cowl was torn off, revealing her short black hair, sticky from soaking in the crimson pool.

Directly under her left eye was a darkening patch of purple. She'd been hit there. Where his hand was placed under her ribcage, he could feel the sickening bumps of several protruding ribs. He was extra careful not to cause her any further pain as he held her.

Reaching the Batmobile, he delicately laid her down on the passenger seat. Something inside his chest swelled when her head lolled lifelessly to one side, as if unattached. Bending over, he gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes, which were swollen shut.

He closed the car door, got into the driver's seat and quickly started the engine. Calm enough to speak steadily again, he contacted Oracle as he ripped down the street.

"O?"

"You found her?" She sounded worried.

He swallowed before answering her. "Yes. Call Leslie. And contact Alfred. Tell him to meet me at the clinic. And Barbara?"

"Yes?"

"Hurry. She's... she's not...." He couldn't bring himself to finish.

"It's alright, Bruce. I understand. Oracle out." And the line became silent again.

Bruce shifted, aggressively, and put more pressure on the gas pedal. Light from the street lamps flickered every few seconds through the car's windshield, illuminating the interior.

Under one of these flashes, Selina's broken body caught his eye. He scrutinized her form again, while watching the road.

It was her hands, her lethal synthetic claws, that he'd noticed. Every claw on her right hand was smashed, but curiously, none on her left. He frowned.

He scanned her slender yet muscular form. The skin tight black vinyl suit she wore was tattered beyond repair, with jagged tears along her thighs, arms, and stomach, revealing her pink flesh.

Evidently, she had chosen not to wear the protective Kevlar, even though he had insisted that she should. Especially in recent weeks.

Under the sporadic lighting, it was difficult for Bruce to know what had made the rips. Something sharp, possibly the same knife that....

Enroute to the city again, he rounded a hairpin turn and winced involuntarily when Selina's head rolled with the car's movements.

There was a set of traffic lights up ahead, but when it changed to yellow, he didn't slow down. On the contrary, he sped up and ran through the intersection. Nothing in the world would prevent him from getting Selina the medical treatment she needed right now.

Coming into a brightly lit part of town, he once again ran his eyes over her motionless body. After a few counted seconds, terror gripped him when he realized that she was truly motionless. The slight rise and fall of her chest had ceased. She wasn't breathing.

He fought the instinct to panic and made a quick decision. "Auto command four-nine-five." The Batmobile's onboard computer automatically responded. "Auto proceed confirmed. Destination: Park Row Clinic."

Releasing his hold on the steering wheel, Batman frantically searched the overhead console for the correct compartment. Locating the one he wanted, he forced it open and grabbed the syringe inside.

Hurriedly, he removed the needle's safeguard with his teeth and used his other hand to elevate her arm. Some of the black material still covered the required area, and he swiftly wrenched it off, exposing the inside crook of her elbow.

You will not die, he promised.

Grimacing, Bruce stabbed her limp arm with the adrenalin shot. In her condition, the epinephrine would wake her up enough just to continue breathing. Right away she gasped for air, although it was barely audible. Wearily, he heaved a long sigh of flooding relief as he watched her chest begin to move steadily again.

Setting aside the emptied syringe, he faced forward and regained manual control of the vehicle. Out the window, he read the street signs. Leslie's walk-in clinic was close. In a few moments, the Batmobile came screeching to a halt in the alley behind the building.

Opening the passenger door, he scooped her damaged body up in his strong arms and carried her into the clinic.

Alfred was waiting at the back door. He gasped when he caught a glimpse of Catwoman's disfigured form. Batman moved past him without stopping and ran straight into the emergency room that had been prepared by Leslie.

Already in the room, the white-haired doctor rushed to Selina's side as Bruce laid her gently on the hospitable bed. Doctor Thompkins' hand flew to her mouth in reaction to seeing the patient's physical state.

"Oh, Bruce...," she murmured, examining Selina. "You were right to send Alfred over here. I will be able to use the extra pair of hands."

He nodded and stepped one foot out of the room to motion to Alfred, who soon entered the room.

Alfred, having years of experience tending to his young master's numerous wounds, needed no briefing on the procedures to follow. Bruce stood back and watched his two friends wash and don their medical gloves.

His eyes moved slowly over to the bruised woman in the bed, and his gaze soon settled on her shattered face. He felt a knot in his stomach, twisting uncomfortably. Then he realized, he was scared for her. Scared for him. What if....?

Leslie and Alfred were rushing around each other, attempting to stabilize her. They were becoming louder, more frantic, and this concerned Bruce.

"Is everything all right?" He asked, worried. "Can I help?"

Leslie turned and quickly came over to where he was standing. She tried to remain calm, but he could see the fright in her eyes. However, she put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Bruce, right now, the best thing would be if you got out of here and –"

"I'm not leaving her," he interjected.

Leslie sighed. "I understand that you... feel this way," she paused, wondering if she had chosen the right words. "But Alfred and I cannot afford any distractions. I know you want to help, but the most help you can be is if you were someplace else. Please." She gave him a pleading look before turning her attention back to Selina.

Indignant, Batman took a deep breath, but he agreed with Leslie's reasoning and, after shooting one last painstaking glance at Selina, exited the emergency room.

Once outside, he chided himself for being so selfish. His...– Selina was fighting for her life, and yet he was willing to put that in jeopardy for his own comfort.

Though he had enormous faith in the two people whose hands she was now in, Bruce couldn't help but restlessly pace the white tiled floor. He was no expert, but he estimated that her chances of survival were less than fifty percent.

Soon, his anxiety evolved into a tormenting guilt. How could he have let her get hurt? It was overwhelming. There was an inviting plastic chair in front of him. He kicked it. Hard. Thankfully, the others were too busy to hear the crash out in the hall.

Suddenly his com link sounded and he heard Barbara's voice.

"How is she?"

"Alfred and Leslie are working on her. I don't think I will know for a while," he paused. "She's in awful shape, Barbara.... I've never seen her this bad before...."

Oracle was quiet for a moment. "Do you need anything, Bruce?"

The guilt had been exchanged for anger. "I need to know who did this to her."