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Description

Art by me.
Story by Etherea Serendipity
Part 2 of 4 to 6 part short story with illustrations describing the heretofore unknown secret encounter of Catwoman and Batgirl.

See part 1 here:

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Catwoman sank her claws into the ledge and vaulted herself onto the rooftop. She sauntered across the gravel to the opposite side of the roof, pulling her goggles down over her eyes as she did so. As she neared the edge she hopped up onto a big sheet metal vent and plopped down casually, training her eyes down and to the west. After a brief scan she found what she was looking for a few buildings over and smiled. It was Batgirl. She was still at the site of their just-concluded melee. Was she savoring her victory? Licking her wounds? Probably a little of both, Selina thought as she watched Batgirl's gloved fingers trace over the gashes in her uniform. Catwoman's smile broadened as she watched the young heroine examine her handiwork. Her slash couldn't have been more precise, right along the edge of the embedded ceramic plates. It had been meant to send a message, as had her stab at Batgirl's heart a couple of weeks previously. The message was simple, but she wasn't sure if her new nemesis had quite managed to decode it yet. It said "I am toying with you, Batgirl." From the way the heroine was running her hands up and down the gashes and the troubled expression on her face it looked like she was finally beginning to decode it.
"Good," Catwoman thought as she lay on her side and watched her opponent. "Maybe you'll stay out of my hair for awhile." But she already knew that was just wishful thinking. "Would you, in her place?" she asked herself. "Of course not. You would push yourself that much harder, and that's what she is going to do. You're her white whale, and she won't stop until she's caught you or died trying." She still wasn't sure what to make of this new caped arrival on Gotham's nighttime stage. She was impressed with the girl. She was quick with her wits, quick with her fists, and quick with a witty riposte when Catwoman taunted her. This so-called Batgirl was a lot tougher than she looked. She had survived a couple of sound thrashings from Huntress and was coping with Batman's emotional abuse and Robin's gawking and slavering, not to mention some near death experiences as she was learning the ropes. You had to be a bit of a daredevil to even contemplate being a costumed hero, a fact which Catwoman appreciated and admired.
And she was attractive. Very, very attractive, which was something else Catwoman, as a noted aesthete, could appreciate. She even smelled delectable, her silken hair scented like strawberries. One could only imagine what the face behind the cowl looked like, of course, but her form! Long, lithe and lean, but with graceful curves accentuated by her skin-tight uniform, cape and long, cinnamon-colored hair swaying, bright, green eyes flashing from beneath her mask. She didn't so much move, she flowed. She was quick, but she was also precise, like a gymnast or a dancer. She'd clearly had some martial arts training, too, and was quite good. Karate, most likely, Catwoman thought. The catburglar was passingly familiar with some of the forms, but her own fighting style was much less trained and much more innate. Batgirl didn't look particularly strong, but she hit HARD, as Catwoman could attest. The Batgirl wasn't the only one with wounds to lick from tonight's fight, and Catwoman crinkled her nose and groaned a little as she watched her opponent off in the distance.
The nose still hurt from their battle two weeks prior. She'd made her point, so to speak, with the thrust at Batgirl's heart, but she'd paid a very painful price for it. For the most part, she'd been testing the new heroine, seeing what she could do, probing her for weaknesses and limitations, trying to discern how she thought. It had looked to Batgirl like Catwoman had desperately run off after each encounter, but in reality the world's greatest catburglar had done what she needed to do and simply wanted to break off contact and disappear into the darkness. But not that night two weeks ago. She'd been knocked delirious and thought her nose was broken. Her eyes were teared up and she could hardly see. That night she'd run like hell because she had to. It was scant consolation that she herself had struck what would easily have been a killing blow had Batman not given his new kinda-sorta protege top of the line armor. And learning the specifics of Batgirl's armor had been one of her aims as well. She was quite familiar with the suits Batman and Robin wore. Batgirl's, of course, would be somewhat different due to her much more shapely form, but Catwoman had managed to get her hands all over Batgirl during their tussles over the previous few weeks, and she now knew where all the underlying plates were, as she'd demonstrated in tonight's engagement.
Ostensibly, she was trying to warn Batgirl off with these precise thrusts and slashes of her claws. For as much as she was beginning to admire the kid, the girl was starting to become a major pain in her ass. It looked like Batgirl was finally starting to get the message. "I am playing a game with you. I know where your weaknesses are. You are outmatched. I can kill you if I have to." But as she was learning, Batgirl had a fire inside. She had something to prove, and she wasn't going to give up. That was a problem, because as much as Catwoman was enjoying their ongoing contretemps--crushed nosed excepted, of course--she had a business to run. On nights when she was only out to steal for herself or just to slink around the city, the encounters with Batgirl were bracing. They pushed her and kept her sharp. And entertained. But when she was out thieving under contract, she couldn't afford to be delayed. And she did a lot of contract work. If she couldn't warn Batgirl off by scaring or intimidating her, she'd have to come up with something else, because she could ill-afford to fail to deliver the goods she'd been lavishly paid to burgle. At best, that would result in a loss of reputation, which was unacceptable. At worst, it would result in people trying to kill her. Determined people. Being dead was even more unacceptable.
Catwoman rubbed her nose as she contemplated her problem. Sure, she could just kill Batgirl. That would be relatively easy. But she wasn't a murderer. She'd killed in the past, but only out of necessity. She shook her head, and the Selina half of her personality said, "No, that's off the table." Her Catwoman side, however, told her something needed to be done, and soon.
She watched as in the distance, Batgirl stood up, fired her grappling gun and swung off into the night. She was momentarily tempted to follow, to find out who she really was and where she lived. She'd tried that many times with Batman, and always failed. This Batgirl was clever; she doubted she'd have much better luck, and she was tired and still aching from the fight earlier. She sighed and rolled off the vent and onto her feet and crunched off through the gravel in the opposite direction, detaching her whip from her belt and preparing to swing away.
"I need to do something, but what?" she thought as she swung off towards home.

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Daz3d->Reality->Lux render with a V4 model

Description

Art by me.
Story by Etherea Serendipity
Part 2 of 4 to 6 part short story with illustrations describing the heretofore unknown secret encounter of Catwoman and Batgirl.

See part 1 here:

--------------------------------------------

Catwoman sank her claws into the ledge and vaulted herself onto the rooftop. She sauntered across the gravel to the opposite side of the roof, pulling her goggles down over her eyes as she did so. As she neared the edge she hopped up onto a big sheet metal vent and plopped down casually, training her eyes down and to the west. After a brief scan she found what she was looking for a few buildings over and smiled. It was Batgirl. She was still at the site of their just-concluded melee. Was she savoring her victory? Licking her wounds? Probably a little of both, Selina thought as she watched Batgirl's gloved fingers trace over the gashes in her uniform. Catwoman's smile broadened as she watched the young heroine examine her handiwork. Her slash couldn't have been more precise, right along the edge of the embedded ceramic plates. It had been meant to send a message, as had her stab at Batgirl's heart a couple of weeks previously. The message was simple, but she wasn't sure if her new nemesis had quite managed to decode it yet. It said "I am toying with you, Batgirl." From the way the heroine was running her hands up and down the gashes and the troubled expression on her face it looked like she was finally beginning to decode it.
"Good," Catwoman thought as she lay on her side and watched her opponent. "Maybe you'll stay out of my hair for awhile." But she already knew that was just wishful thinking. "Would you, in her place?" she asked herself. "Of course not. You would push yourself that much harder, and that's what she is going to do. You're her white whale, and she won't stop until she's caught you or died trying." She still wasn't sure what to make of this new caped arrival on Gotham's nighttime stage. She was impressed with the girl. She was quick with her wits, quick with her fists, and quick with a witty riposte when Catwoman taunted her. This so-called Batgirl was a lot tougher than she looked. She had survived a couple of sound thrashings from Huntress and was coping with Batman's emotional abuse and Robin's gawking and slavering, not to mention some near death experiences as she was learning the ropes. You had to be a bit of a daredevil to even contemplate being a costumed hero, a fact which Catwoman appreciated and admired.
And she was attractive. Very, very attractive, which was something else Catwoman, as a noted aesthete, could appreciate. She even smelled delectable, her silken hair scented like strawberries. One could only imagine what the face behind the cowl looked like, of course, but her form! Long, lithe and lean, but with graceful curves accentuated by her skin-tight uniform, cape and long, cinnamon-colored hair swaying, bright, green eyes flashing from beneath her mask. She didn't so much move, she flowed. She was quick, but she was also precise, like a gymnast or a dancer. She'd clearly had some martial arts training, too, and was quite good. Karate, most likely, Catwoman thought. The catburglar was passingly familiar with some of the forms, but her own fighting style was much less trained and much more innate. Batgirl didn't look particularly strong, but she hit HARD, as Catwoman could attest. The Batgirl wasn't the only one with wounds to lick from tonight's fight, and Catwoman crinkled her nose and groaned a little as she watched her opponent off in the distance.
The nose still hurt from their battle two weeks prior. She'd made her point, so to speak, with the thrust at Batgirl's heart, but she'd paid a very painful price for it. For the most part, she'd been testing the new heroine, seeing what she could do, probing her for weaknesses and limitations, trying to discern how she thought. It had looked to Batgirl like Catwoman had desperately run off after each encounter, but in reality the world's greatest catburglar had done what she needed to do and simply wanted to break off contact and disappear into the darkness. But not that night two weeks ago. She'd been knocked delirious and thought her nose was broken. Her eyes were teared up and she could hardly see. That night she'd run like hell because she had to. It was scant consolation that she herself had struck what would easily have been a killing blow had Batman not given his new kinda-sorta protege top of the line armor. And learning the specifics of Batgirl's armor had been one of her aims as well. She was quite familiar with the suits Batman and Robin wore. Batgirl's, of course, would be somewhat different due to her much more shapely form, but Catwoman had managed to get her hands all over Batgirl during their tussles over the previous few weeks, and she now knew where all the underlying plates were, as she'd demonstrated in tonight's engagement.
Ostensibly, she was trying to warn Batgirl off with these precise thrusts and slashes of her claws. For as much as she was beginning to admire the kid, the girl was starting to become a major pain in her ass. It looked like Batgirl was finally starting to get the message. "I am playing a game with you. I know where your weaknesses are. You are outmatched. I can kill you if I have to." But as she was learning, Batgirl had a fire inside. She had something to prove, and she wasn't going to give up. That was a problem, because as much as Catwoman was enjoying their ongoing contretemps--crushed nosed excepted, of course--she had a business to run. On nights when she was only out to steal for herself or just to slink around the city, the encounters with Batgirl were bracing. They pushed her and kept her sharp. And entertained. But when she was out thieving under contract, she couldn't afford to be delayed. And she did a lot of contract work. If she couldn't warn Batgirl off by scaring or intimidating her, she'd have to come up with something else, because she could ill-afford to fail to deliver the goods she'd been lavishly paid to burgle. At best, that would result in a loss of reputation, which was unacceptable. At worst, it would result in people trying to kill her. Determined people. Being dead was even more unacceptable.
Catwoman rubbed her nose as she contemplated her problem. Sure, she could just kill Batgirl. That would be relatively easy. But she wasn't a murderer. She'd killed in the past, but only out of necessity. She shook her head, and the Selina half of her personality said, "No, that's off the table." Her Catwoman side, however, told her something needed to be done, and soon.
She watched as in the distance, Batgirl stood up, fired her grappling gun and swung off into the night. She was momentarily tempted to follow, to find out who she really was and where she lived. She'd tried that many times with Batman, and always failed. This Batgirl was clever; she doubted she'd have much better luck, and she was tired and still aching from the fight earlier. She sighed and rolled off the vent and onto her feet and crunched off through the gravel in the opposite direction, detaching her whip from her belt and preparing to swing away.
"I need to do something, but what?" she thought as she swung off towards home.

-----------------

Daz3d->Reality->Lux render with a V4 model