With the aid of Kryptonian technology, Batman undergoes his most amazing transformation ever in order to track down the serial killer targeting the call girls of Gotham City.
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From Batman to Call Girl by BobH, as reworked by Steve Zink
(c) 2010
All characters herein are owned by DC Comics.
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1. Alien Technology
The Man of Steel watched thoughtfully as his friend paced the great hall giving each of the items displayed there a cursory inspection. Batman had asked to be brought to Superman's Fortress of Solitude here in the high Arctic, saying that he would explain why when they arrived. Superman had flown them here as requested, but as yet no explanation had been forthcoming.
Standing beneath the giant statues of Jor-El and Lara, Superman could not help reflecting on how it was a memorial to his Kryptonian birth-parents that dominated this chamber, while in the Batcave it was a giant coin and a full-size robot Tyrannosaurus Rex. In some ways he and Bruce were amazingly alike, and in others they could not have been more different. Both were orphans who had lost their parents in violent circumstances, his to the destruction of their planet; Bruce's to a mugging gone wrong in a dark alley. Kal-El had been only a baby when he was placed in that small rocketship and sent from poor doomed Krypton to the world where he would grow up to be Superman, but Bruce was eight years old when his parents were gunned down in front of him, changing his world forever.
And that difference was crucial.
Superman's character had been formed not by his long-dead homeworld but by Jonathan and Martha Kent, the Kansas couple who had adopted him and raised him as their own. For Bruce Wayne that alley was where the formative event of his life had taken place, the appalling act of random violence that set him on his path to becoming Batman. Great tragedies lay in the pasts of both men, yet one walked in light where the other preferred the shadows.
"The murders happened in Gotham," said Batman, abruptly, "four high-end call girls died within days of each other, each in an apparent accident, and one other seemingly committed suicide shortly after."
"Could the deaths be a coincidence?" asked Superman.
"I don't believe in coincidence," growled Batman in his usual deep, grim voice. "No, it's just too statistically unlikely. Five women in the same profession, most of whom knew each other, all of whom shared several clients in common."
"You've given each death your usual thorough investigation, of course."
"Like you wouldn't believe. And I've come up empty. No forensic link between the deaths, no traces left behind to indicate who the killer might be, no clues, nothing. Which is extremely disturbing. No ordinary human killer could be responsible for that many deaths without leaving his DNA behind at several of the scenes. Which leads to only one conclusion."
"The killer isn't an ordinary human."
"Just so. We're looking for someone with superhuman abilities. And if a super-villain is targeting high-class hookers I need to take him down before he murders again. Since he's left no clue as to who he might be, there's only one way to get to him."
"You need to draw him out, to bait a trap for him."
"Exactly. Someone has to go undercover as one of these call girls."
"So, who do you have in mind...Huntress?"
"With how little we know of the killer's full capabilities, it's far too dangerous for Helena. No, I wouldn't ask any of the women we know to put themselves in that situation."
"Then who?"
"It has to be me."
"You?" laughed Superman, incredulously. "No offense, Bruce but as brilliant a master of disguise as you are there's no way you can pass for a woman."
"Not by any conventional means, no. Which is why I asked you to bring me here."
"What do you mean?" asked Superman, frowning. He was not sure where his friend was going with this but he *was* sure he was not going to like it.
"A few years ago you told me about a 'body mold' here that you once used to temporarily turn Lois Lane into a black woman. I can't imagine the alien super-technology that could accomplish such a thing, but from your description I deduced it was capable of more radical transformations."
"It is, but...are you sure about this, Bruce?"
"Have you ever known me to be unsure about anything I've chosen to do, Clark?"
"Well, no. And if you're asking me to do this I'm sure that everything you'll need to pull it off has been planned for and is already in place, but even for you this is extreme."
"When it comes to getting a killer off the streets you know I'll always do whatever it takes. No sacrifice is too great."
"And there's no way I can talk you out of this?"
"Did you think there would be?"
"Not really, no," sighed Superman. "Okay, give me the body map I'm sure you've prepared."
Batman reached into his utility belt and pulled out a flash drive.
"Based on the psychological profile I worked up for the killer, I've taken physical elements from each of the victims to create a composite woman, one I believe will prove irresistable to him. All the details you need are in here; height, weight, all physical measurements and a full three-dimensional model of the face."
"I'll get right to work programming the body mold," said Superman, taking the memory stick. "It should be ready in about twenty minutes. There's a changing room in the next chamber where you can get ready."
As he worked to translate the data on the flash drive into a form the body mold would understand, Superman pondered what Batman was about to do. Only Bruce was driven enough to think this was a good idea, only he so obsessed with bringing criminals to justice whatever the cost as to even attempt such a thing. Clark wondered briefly whether he should really be helping him do this, but at no point did it ever occur to him to refuse his friend's request. Batman could be intense, but he always knew what he was doing.
"So, are we ready?" asked Bruce entering the chamber dressed only in a pair of shorts.
"Pretty much, yes," said Superman. "If you're absolutely sure about this, then we can begin."
"I'm absolutely sure," said Bruce.
"Then enter the mold."
The mold looked like nothing so much as an upright metal coffin, one whose shape followed the outline of the human body. Bruce settled back into it and nodded, making no comment as his friend closed the lid over him.
Going over to the mold's remarkably nondescript control console, Superman gave the various gauges and indicators a final check before throwing the lever that activated the device. The mold started to glow and
to emit a low humming sound. He continued to monitor the console as the process progressed. Everything appeared to be going fine. It would only take a few minutes in all and then it would be over.
When the transformation cycle was complete, the glow faded, the humming gradually ceased, and there was a brief hiss of escaping gas as the seal was broken and the mold door slowly swung open. Batman had entered as a man and now SHE emerged as a woman; shorter yet still tall, with straight and down to her waist black hair, a classic but incredibly more defined hour-glass figure having an ultra narrow waist, with extremely large, better than exotic dancer quality breasts, and the face of a cover model or movie star seeming to be only twenty years old or so. Her long and graceful legs bore all the traits of a 30's era pinup model, with sleek and tiny feet. She was more than beautiful, she was exotically and erotically stunning! To contend with the mission calling for her creation, she also had a specially contrived chemistry in her vagina and womb to prevent the contracting of any and all sexually transmitted diseases, nor could she get pregnant unless for some reason she willed it while in the process of intercourse.
"Interesting," she said with her smoothly stimulating and sexy voice, cupping her huge and shapely breasts in her now slender-fingered hands, "the extra weight on my chest and the different center of gravity will take a little getting used to - this voice, too."
"Uh, Bruce," said Superman, holding out a robe, "you might want to put this on."
"Oh, sorry, Clark," he smiled, taking the robe, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"So what next?"
"Next you fly me back to Gotham and I get established in my new identity as Claudia Cross. I'm probably going to have to be her for several weeks, so the sooner I get started the better."
"What about Bruce Wayne and Batman? How are you explaining their absences?"
"Bruce Wayne is officially off on a Carribean vacation on his yacht for the next several weeks, and Nightwing and Robin will cover for Batman in Gotham while I'm away."
"Do they know who you're going undercover as, or why?"
"No, only you and I know that. I'd prefer as few people as possible be in the loop on this. However, I've copied a file to the Batcave computer, giving all the details, that can be accessed in the event of anything going wrong."
"You seem to have thought of everything."
"I always do," replied Bruce, stopping to study his reflection in the highly polished wall of a steel instrument cabinet. "Some of the technology you have here is so advanced as to be indistinguishable from magic. You ever consider sharing it with the world?"
"They're not ready for it yet - so, no."
"Good. Now let's get back to Gotham."
Wanting to leave the Batplane at Nightwing's disposal, Batman had persuaded Superman to fly him to the Fortress of Solitude. As usually happened whenever he carried anyone at any altitude and speed, Kal had wrapped his friend in his indestructible cape in order to protect him from the strain this would put on a human body. So it was that the Man of Steel carried her back in the same manner. It was deeply disconcerting to have this beautiful woman in his arms and know she was really Bruce.
As per Batman's instructions, Superman flew her to an apartment building in Gotham City owned by Wayne Enterprises, alighting on the terrace of the penthouse. It was night, of course, so their arrival would have gone unseen.
"Nice," said Superman as Bruce slid back the terrace door and stepped inside, "and looking like it's owned by a woman with expensive tastes."
"Naturally," said Bruce. "Three of the victims attended Wellesley, and all were college graduates. At the level at which they operated, their clients would expect nothing less. They had to be intelligent conversationalists and know how to conduct themselves when a client took them to a high class social gathering. This is the exquisitely furnished home of Claudia Cross, the high class call girl, indecent, incestuous and wanton nymphomaniac and promiscuous whore that I am now. Do I sound like the kind of slutty and sex crazed hooker our killer would be looking for? So, what we discussed on the flight back here - are we on for tomorrow?"
"It still seems unbelievable to me that you would turn yourself into the woman you've become, but it's your decision, not mine. So yes," said Clark, "I'll be here at seven."
"Good. I'll see you then."
2. High Society
All of the great and the good of Gotham's monied elite were at the $15,000 dollar-a-head fundraiser at the city's Museum of Natural History the following evening. Not only would it have been a socially damaging faux pas not to be seen there, but such gatherings were an important venue for networking and a lot of business was done at them. In other cities such informal business might be done on the golf course, but the powerful of Gotham preferred to do it over champagne and canapes. Who you were seen with at such gatherings was also important, of course...
Bruce Wayne always arrived at such gatherings with a gorgeous woman on his arm - usually a model or a young starlet - and tonight was no exception. A tall, dark haired, top heavy beauty dressed in a shimmering golden designer gown that emphasized every curve of her magnificent body and with her stunning legs emphasized by the six-inch stiletto heeled golden shoes on her feet, she attracted the appreciative gaze of every man and the jealous glare of every woman. What none of them could have imagined in their wildest dreams was that while clinging to the arm of who they thought was Bruce Wayne, she was not his date but was in fact Bruce Wayne herself, now going by the name of Claudia Cross.
"How you holding up?" Claudia asked the man whose arm she held, sotto voce.
"As well as can be expected," he replied, managing to hide his discomfit. "We've each masqueraded as the other when we've had to, Bruce, but you know I've never been a fan of all the latex pieces and makeup I have to wear to pull it off. I guess I'm just not as comfortable with disguises as you are."
"And yet you wear a disguise every day of your life, Clark," said his date, amused by this.
"Yes, but all I have to wear to pull that off is a pair of spectacles."
"We can continue this later," said Ms. Cross, suddenly all business. "Jason Quinn is coming over so it's game on."
"Old high school pal of yours, and now a billionaire industrialist..." said Clark, "...just to let you know I've done my homework..."
"Hello, Bruce, glad to see you made it," said Quinn, "and who is your beautiful young date tonight?"
"Miss Claudia Cross," replied Clark, as the beauty offered Quinn her hand. "Claudia, this is Jason Quinn, an old friend."
"Delighted!" said Quinn, taking the offered hand and lightly kissing Claudia's dainty fingers.
When he turned his attention back to Clark, the luxuriant looking whore scanned the room, eyes narrowing when she spotted someone who should not have been there.
"You'll have to excuse me, boys," she smiled, "I need to go powder my nose."
Clutching her purse, the stunning brunette headed for the doors she had seen her quarry slip through, gliding across the floor in her sexy heels with ultimate grace. As she had expected, she was the only one out there, her keen eyes scanning the sides of the building and the rooftops across the way.
"Hello, Selina," she said. "Casing the joint, I see."
"What?" said the woman, eyeing her suspiciously. "Do I know you, sister?"
She was wearing a convincing knock-off of a designer gown, tasteful if presumably fake jewellery, and three-inch heels, but even out of costume she would always recognize Selina Kyle aka Catwoman.
"For many years," grinned Claudia. "The first time we met I was undercover and you were working as a dominatrix. You leaped to the defence of your friend Holly, who had just stabbed me in the leg. You had some nice karate moves but not much else back then, and I put you down."
"Batman?" she said, astonished. "It's not possible - you can't be him."
"I can and I am...or rather was," she said, "and here's more proof."
She then proceeded to recount details of other encounters, things only Bruce and Selina knew.
"Okay, okay, enough!" she said eventually. "I believe you - but this?! How, why...?"
"The how is thanks to some super-technology of Superman's, a machine which can radically reshape bodies. The why is because I'm undercover in order to catch a super-villain who's been murdering high-end hookers. Which doesn't mean I won't blow the whistle on you, Selina. I'm sure you're here to rob these people of their valuables, but I can't let that happen. I also don't need you getting in my way, either. So go home, Selina, and chalk this one up as a loss."
"Oooh, always so masterful," she grinned, "even now when you're several inches shorter than me and looking so pretty and so vulnerable."
"I'm a lot less vulnerable than I look."
"I don't doubt it," she said. "I'll tell you what - I won't steal anything from all these nice rich folk, but there's still something I need to steal."
And with that she slid an arm around Claudia's waist and pulled her to her side.
"Wh...what are you doing?"
"Stealing a kiss, of course," she grinned, and then she did.
It was a long kiss.
"Mmmmmm," said Selina, when they came up for air, "that definitely makes this whole evening worthwhile!"
What made it even better for her was how flustered she looked. Batman never got flustered and Selina had begun to doubt he could. She was delighted to be proved wrong.
"Yes, well," said Claudia, smoothing down her dress, "are we done?"
"For now," laughed Selina, patting her shapely ass as she made to leave. Pausing at the balcony doors, she turned and blew her a kiss. "But I'll definitely be seeing you again, sweetcheeks."
When she had gone, Claudia turned to face the street, taking a few slow, deep breaths to compose herself. That was when she spotted the figure on the rooftop across the way, watching her. That business suit, hat, and long flowing cape were unmistakeable, but what interest could the mysterious Phantom Stranger possibly have in this affair? The slut blinked, and in the fraction of a second her eyes were closed, the Stranger vanished.
A little later, Claudia sought out Clark, who was still doing a convincing Bruce Wayne impression.
"You were gone quite a while," he observed.
"Something came up and I had to unexpectedly repair my lipstick," said Claudia, smiling at the memory despite herself. "How have you been doing?"
"I've talked to all the men on your list," he said, "all those you discovered were on the client lists of one or more of the dead prostitutes. I discreetly let each of them know you're in the same line of work, that you were my professional escort tonight, and every one of them asked for your phone number. If you want it, you could be a very busy girl over the next few days, Claudia."
"I want it," she replied. "It's my way into this case and the whole reason for me becoming a woman in the first place."
"Are you really prepared to go all the way with them, though?"
"If I have to, then yes. I'll do whatever it takes to find the killer. And now, it's probably time we left. Bruce Wayne always puts in an appearance at these events but he seldom stays very long."
"Right, because he needs to get away in order to patrol the city as Batman," said Clark.
"Not tonight," replied Bruce. "Unfortunately."
3. Working Girl
As the billionaire head of the Quinn group of companies, Jason Quinn was not a man who lacked confidence nor was he ever at a loss for words. Until now.
When the door of the private elevator opened to reveal the luxury penthouse apartment of Claudia Cross, he was confronted by the woman herself, and she looked breathtaking. She was wearing black seven-inch heels and a tight black corset, the garter straps sewn into the bottom of which held up sheer black silk stockings. Elegant and at the same time sexy as hell shoulder length black gloves sheathed her hands and arms. Setting it all off was a small black bow in her hair.
"I'd ask you if you like what you see," she chuckled, glancing down at his crotch, "but I think the question would be superfluous."
With that she took his unresisting hand and led him into her apartment.
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Jason Quinn had been Claudia Cross's second - and last - client of the day but, considered the hooker later as she sipped her wine and reviewed the matter, it was too soon to start pumping them for information during post-coital pillow talk. She would have to see each a couple more times, develop the relationship further, before taking that step. Still, from first impressions neither seemed a likely candidate for the killer, nor had either shown any telltale signs of possessing super-powers. Both had been considerate, almost gentlemanly, and neither had treated her roughly during sex. She almost wished there had been something that pointed to one or other of them being the killer. As it was, she had another five potential suspects to investigate and get close to, which meant that over the next few weeks she would be spending a lot of time on her back with her legs in the air, pricks pumping her eager cunt, faking orgasms and telling each of them what a total stud they were. She wished there was another way of flushing out the killer, but having considered all the other options, she was sure this was the only one likely to succeed.
With senses honed by years of facing danger every night, Claudia suddenly tensed, aware someone had just entered through the sliding doors that led on to the penthouse terrace, doors she currently had her back to. Then she relaxed. "Hello, Selina," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, sweetcheeks," she chuckled. "I said you'd be seeing me again. I've been watching you work from outside. Nice technique on the blow-job you gave your first John, by the way; very professional. And as a former working girl myself, I know what I'm talking about."
"I'm undercover and working a case, Selina," sighed Claudia, turning to face her, "I'm not a fellow 'professional'."
"Oh, really?" said Selina, coldly. "Honey, you've been having sex with men for money. That makes you a whore whatever the reasons you have to justify it, so don't think you can look down your nose at me!"
"'Look down'...? Selina, I wasn't looking down my nose or even denigrating your former profession. I would never do that."
"Well, okay, I guess," she said, mollified by her words. She gave a little grin, looking her up and down appreciatively. "Hmmm. Perfume by Chanel, Rigby and Peller corset and - oooh - Manolo Blahnik shoes to die for. You have exquisite taste, although heels that high aren't designed to be worn anywhere but the bedroom."
"You know your high-end designers," she said, looking at her thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have expected that of you."
"Why not? I didn't become a criminal to try and take over the world or any of that nonsense; I did it to be able to afford finery like that. I've always had an appreciation of the finer things in life. I just never had the means to acquire them."
"Since you're here, can I offer you a drink?" asked Claudia.
"No thanks," replied Selina, "but I will take a cigarette if you have one."
Claudia nodded in the direction of the silver box on the coffee table and Selina took a cigarette from it, accepting the light that Bruce offered her. "Thanks," she said, inhaling deeply before throwing her head back and directing a long stream of smoke at the ceiling.
"So, why are you here, Selina," asked her friend, "what's this all about?"
"After that kiss we shared I'd've thought that was obvious," she smiled. "I'm here because I want you."
"You *want* me?"
"Why so shocked? You know I've always swung both ways. You were hot as ol' tall, dark and frowny, and now you're even hotter as Miss tall, dark and curvy. You make an utterly gorgeous woman."
"Even if I was tempted, I've just spent the afternoon having sex."
"Yes, but for money, not for yourself," she said, taking another long drag on her cigarette. "There's a huge difference. Sex with those men was all about their desires, but I want to give *you* pleasure. And when else are you likely to get the chance to make love with a woman as a woman? And don't tell me the idea doesn't turn you on. There's hardly a man on the planet who wouldn't leap at the chance if they were in your position."
She put her cigarette down in the ashtray and stood in front of her, mere inches away.
"This is crazy, Selina!"
"I know," she grinned, suddenly pulling Claudia to her and kissing her long and deep.
When she lifted her lips from hers, Claudia's arms were on her shoulders and there was a dazed expression on her face.
"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy that," said Selina, softly, "because you were kissing me back."
"I...this isn't what I want," she said.
"That's what that logical mind of yours is telling you," Selina said, stroking her arm, "but your sexy new body is saying something else entirely."
Slowly, deliberately, Selina slid her fingers inside her negligee and across Claudia's breasts, smiling at how hard her nipples had become, gently caressing her belly as she moved down to that dark, inviting bush. Her eyes had become unfocussed, her breathing shallow, and she actually let out a low moan as she slid her fingers into her wet pussy and began kneading her clitoris.
Selina was both astonished and delighted. She had never thought she would see the day when the mighty Batman, grim avenger of the night, would allow himself to lose control yet here 'she' was, surrendering totally to her ministrations, letting her pleasure the woman he now was.
She had never loved him more than she did right then.
Much later, as they lay together in bed, exhausted but happy, Selina regarded Claudia thoughtfully. Not knowing who he really was under that mask of his, she had no idea what had happened in Batman's life for him to erect the emotional shields around himself that he had, but those shields were formidable and she had never managed to breach them.
Until now.
Was it being Claudia Cross, she wondered? Was he using being a woman as an excuse to allow him to open himself up, or was it something else? She didn't know, but whatever it was she approved.
She approved of it very much.
4. Death and Doppelgangers
Jason Quinn, deciding to have her doggy style rather than in her preferred missionary position had been unexpected, Claudia thought afterwards - and being taken from behind while on all fours had certainly been a new experience for her - but she was beginning to despair. She was now two weeks into her mission and no closer to catching the killer than she had been on day one. All she had to show for her efforts were a deeper and deeper craving for male sex organs to fill her cunt and a now well-polished set of skills as a high-end call girl able to easily wear eight-inch and even ballet toed heels and walk, run and otherwise actively cavort in heels as high as seven inches, along with an impressive balance in Claudia Cross's bank account. At least, it would be impressive had she actually been Claudia Cross and not Bruce Wayne, billionaire. She was of course working on getting the hang of running and doing everything else active in the ballet toed heels, since doing so would mean being able to do so in any footwear conceivable.
A late call caught the slut totally by surprise. It seemed Claudia's skills as a high priced whore were going to be called upon once again. The caller told her an address in a much different part of Gotham City to see him, and she wondered if just possibly this was going to be the job she'd been to do since getting her start.
When she parked near the front of the address given, Claudia knew her chances were even better for a breakthrough. She was in the midst of an area known for a long time as the 'home turf' of many of the criminals plaguing Gotham City. She got out of her car and stood sexily in her ultra sexy and slutty looking seven-inch heeled, three buckle black shoes and strode over to the entrance with her heels clicking oh so sexily on the concrete. She went up to the twelfth floor unit number given and knocked. "Come right in, my dear. The door's open for you," she heard from inside.
'Trusting fool,' the whore thought, 'leaving a door unlocked in this area. Oh well...' She twisted the doorknob to find that the door was indeed unlocked and pushed it in to open after the catch slipped free. One step was all she took, however. A cloud of gas enveloped Claudia's head from the open upper corner and one whiff was all it took to cause the black haired beauty to slump to the floor. She was not unconscious, just slack from a total loss of muscle control. Her only movements were the beat of her heart and the pulse of her lungs.
Her apparent caller walked over to stand next to the stunned woman after the gas dissipated. She saw a face that was hard to believe, but had no way to react. "Good evening, my dear," said the voice of a still quite male Bruce Wayne. "I know you can hear me, and not only that, but you will take everything I say as words you know and understand to be the truth. I presume you recognize the effects of your very own Bat stun gas, which I've taken the liberty to enhance and make even more effective. When you get the use of your muscles back in a moment, you will know that your true name is not Bruce Wayne, nor is it Claudia Cross. Your true name is Selina Kyle, and the name you prefer to be known as is Catwoman. Apply everything you know from the past to become your new personality as a sex crazed and slutty, promiscuous whore, a demanding, demonic, malicious and malevolent dominatrix, and of course, the most evil thinking villainess ever. Tonight a new Batman is going to start taking over the protection of Gotham City, and you will be working with him as a foil to be the most wicked feline felon you can be while still chasing him as your dearest lover. This is your home, as I'm sure you're aware. You will need to get into your costume as soon as possible to go and rob Karsten's Jewelers where Batman can stop you and make a show of capturing the infamous Catwoman. You'll be free to go home right after that, so there will be no worries for you. Then once you are back here, wait for a phone call from me, to give you back your cover identity as Claudia Cross. I'll leave you now so we can both prepare for our date tonight."
He left and locked the door behind him, grinning from ear to ear. Yes, the new Batman would not be complete without the new Catwoman, and what fun that would be since the new Catwoman used to be the old Batman.
The effects of the gas that had enveloped the head of the whore named Claudia Cross wore off about twenty-five minutes after the new Batman had left. But it wasn't Cladia who gained back the use of her muscles and mind...no, it was Selina Kyle who shook off the effects of that relaxer she knew her lover had hit her with. Well, if it was games he wanted to play, Catwoman would be sure to give him a big wad of catnip. Groggily she got to her seven-inch heeled feet and shook off the last bits of stiffness she felt, then Selina headed for her bedroom.
Off came the clothing of her secondary occupation as a high priced hooker, and from the closet next to all her Mistress Dominique leather, latex and other attire, she pulled out the black latex catsuit that was the uniform of her primary occupation. In mere moments the gorgeous brunette had a second skin of gleaming black latex, to which she added her seven-inch heeled, shiny black thigh high boots. Then came the third skin for her arms as she pulled on her shoulder length black gloves. It took but a couple of seconds to get her fingertips settled in the claws of her gloves. She pulled on her cat belt with its weapons and loot kit, settling it low on her hips with the bag hanging to her right. Finally, she pulled the mask and cowl down over her head, taking care to thread her long ebony mane through the slot in back and center her eyes within the sexy eye holes in front. "Meowwwwwrrrrrrrrrr! Here I come, Batman!"
As set up by the Dark Knight, the meeting of himself and his new feline foe went exactly as planned. Catwoman was released to him right after being processed at the GCPD, and he sent her home to rest for their next bit of fun and games. Shortly after she got home and out of her work clothes, Selina got a phone call. "Hello?"
"Kitty Litter."
Claudia hung up the phone. So much for her next engagement. What a bust. She headed back home feeling dejected again.
Yet another round of rampant sex took place shortly after noon the next day. Claudia wondered if anything was ever going to come from this gambit. Still, this afternoon wasn't going to be a total wash. Right on cue the doorbell rang, and Bruce smiled. God, she needed to see Selina right now.
"Selina!" she said, smiling as she opened to door to her. Her face was grim, a rolled newspaper under her arm, and she knew instantly that something was wrong.
"You need to turn the TV on," she said, sweeping past her into the appartment and dropping onto the sofa.
Knowing not to waste time asking questions, Claudia hit the remote and the plasma-screen on the wall came to life.
"...this terrible event," said the reporter. "For those of you just joining us, I repeat that Superman is dead. The Man of Steel has fallen defending the city that he loved."
Behind the reporter, on a mound of rubble, a crying woman cradled his body in her arms while members of the Justice League looked on.
Numbly, the beautiful prostitute sat down on the sofa next to Selina, who put an arm around her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I know you and he were friends."
"He was my best friend," said Claudia, quietly.
"Who is that cradling his head?"
"Lois Lane, a reporter for the Metropolis Daily Planet," Claudia replied. "She was his wife."
"His wife? Oh my God, that poor woman!"
They sat in silence for a minute, absorbing the enormity of what had happened, then Selina turned to face her friend. "I've just realized," she said. "With Superman dead you've no way of getting at the machine in his Fortress that transformed you. That means you're stuck as Claudia Cross."
"I know," she said, "but after these past few weeks, I'm now much happier being the promiscuous and sex crazed nympho slut that I've become, and if it means being with you, I'm okay with that."
"It does," said Selina, "for as long as you'll have me."
They kissed then, but it was a short kiss. Selina broke it off and sighed, her face grim once more. "I heard the news about Superman on my way over," she said, "but I was already going to be the bearer of bad tidings."
"Trouble?" said Claudia.
"Big time," she replied, holding up the morning newspaper she had been carrying. The headline read:
BATMAN FOILS JEWEL HEIST. CATWOMAN IN CUSTODY.
"Someone is masquerading as us," she said, "and we need to do something about it. And I've never had boobs as big as the 'Catwoman' in that photo. God, they're like melons! And can you believe that glistening black, presumably latex costume with heels on her boots like those ones you've liked so much that she's wearing?"
"Oh, yeah! Her boobs look more like the size of mine than yours, Selina! I'm sure I'm not the only woman who enjoys wearing such ultra high heels," she lifted her left foot to show her currently worn locking strapped black shoes with sharp and ultra sexy ballet toed heels, "And also, we've got bigger trouble than you know," said Claudia, pointing to a smaller news item.
Selina read it and frowned.
"I don't understand," she said. "How could Bruce Wayne appearing at a charity gala last night be any of our concern?"
"Because," she replied, "I *am*, or at least was, Bruce Wayne."
********************************
Her lover's revelation had been the latest shock in a day already overburdened with them and Selina was still coming to terms with it as their taxi pulled up to the gates of Wayne Manor. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do," she asked, worriedly, "confronting him directly like this?"
"Yes," replied Claudia as she paid their fare, "in this instance it's exactly the right thing to do."
As the taxi drove off, she pressed the intercom button in the gatepost.
"Yes?" came the voice of his butler, Alfred, through the speaker.
"Claudia Cross and Selina Kyle to see Bruce Wayne," said the hooker.
"Ah yes," said Alfred, "Master Bruce was expecting you."
With that the gates swung open and they walked through.
"He's expecting us," said Selina, as they made the long walk up to the manor. "I don't like the sound of that."
Claudia said nothing.
When they arrived at the main door, Alfred showed them through to the study. There, standing in front of the huge fireplace, was Bruce Wayne.
"Thank you, Alfred, that will be all."
"Very good, Master Bruce," said Alfred, withdrawing from the room and closing the door after him.
It was uncanny, thought Selina, who had not taken her eyes off him since entering the room: if she didn't know better she would have sworn the man before her was Bruce Wayne.
"Interesting," he said, looking her lover over with genuine curiosity. "I read the computer file you put together, of course, but I don't think I'd have taken things as far as you have."
"You certainly look and sound like Bruce Wayne," said Claudia, "but since we both know that I used to be him, who are you really?"
"He's Bruce Wayne," came a deep, slightly unearthly voice from behind them, "the Bruce Wayne this world now needs."
They had not heard him enter but there he was, the mysterious Phantom Stranger.
"What are you talking about, Stranger?" said Selina, angrily. "What you're saying makes no sense!"
"Let him talk, Selina," said Claudia, her voice oddly calm.
"Okay, spill," said Selina. "Just what the hell is going on?"
"For a long, long time we lived not in a universe but a multiverse," said the Stranger, "one containing an infinite number of universes of infinite variety. Some of these universes were only slightly different to our own, populated with alternate versions of the same people. Few in this universe can now remember it, but less than a decade ago there was a multiversal crisis. Untold numbers of universes perished and the few that remained were collapsed into one, into this one. However, that merging was not a clean one and all sorts of anomolies and inconsistencies remained. I cannot yet see its shape, but a few years from now a new crisis will come, one that will make our universe a multiverse again though not, I sense, an infinite one this time. There were survivors from the infinite universes destroyed during the first crisis and some of them, like a certain alternate Bruce Wayne, have materialised in our universe only recently. He remembers he's from another Earth. When I first noticed her, I also thought the Selina Kyle with him was from his parallel universe, but she thinks she is from this one and I've seen nothing to disprove her. So one way or another, there are now a new Batman and a new Catwoman."
"And you think they're meant to take our places?" said Claudia.
"I'm sorry, but yes," said the Stranger. "Take the word of One Who Knows. This is why Fate spared him. There's a great storm coming, and in order to survive it the universe needs a grimmer, more ruthless Batman, one whose judgment is not impaired."
"Impaired?" said Claudia, frowning. "How is my judgment impaired?"
"The serial killer," said the now only Bruce Wayne, "he doesn't exist. It's obvious that the deaths of all those hookers so close together was just the coincidence it appeared to be, yet you saw a murderer where none exists."
Claudia's shoulders slumped and Selina put her arm around them. They exchanged a quick glance and in that moment they accepted what they had been told was true and they knew what they had to do.
"This other Catwoman..." said Selina. "My breasts have never been as large as that. Won't someone notice?"
"No," said the Stranger. "This universe is still in flux and will be until the coming crisis is upon us. It will adapt to incorporate such minor anomolies. No one will remember you were ever any different."
Bruce Wayne handed her a folder.
"The Claudia Cross identity my counterpart created is perfect. I would expect no less. In here is a new identity for you, Selina. All papers and official records, and a bank account containing twice what your current one does."
Selina took the file from her. On it was written the name 'Selina Kane'.
"So that's it?" she said. "We walk away from our old lives and my ex-Bruce walks away from his billions."
"It's okay, Selina," said Claudia, patting her arm. "The world needs a Batman at the top of his game, and we both know that's not me any more."
She turned to her counterpart. "I'll just take the contingency fund," she said. "You can set up a new one."
"Agreed," said Bruce Wayne. "And good luck. I don't imagine we will meet again after this. I'll get Alfred to show you out."
A few minutes later, as they walked across the gravel driveway to the taxi that Alfred had called, Claudia remembered about the folder she had seen on the desk in the study, one labelled 'Brother Eye'. She wondered briefly what it might mean, then decided it was none of her business. There was a new Bruce Wayne now, one who *was* him in every way that mattered, so whatever it was it must be okay. No, it was time to leave all that behind her. She was Claudia Cross now; let someone else shoulder the burden of being Batman.
"Just what is this contingency fund?" asked Selina.
"Hmmm?" said Bruce. "Oh, it's just a small off-the-books account I set up. I keep some money in it for Batman's running expenses."
"And just how much money is in it?"
"About thirty million dollars."
"Thirty mill...?!"
And with that Selina started to laugh.
*
Epilogue.
Sitting in her office in her sharply-tailored trouser-suit, feet up on the desk next to a bottle of bourbon that was mainly for show, Selina took a drag on her cigarette and watched appreciatively as her pretty blonde secretary bent over to retrieve a folder from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. She greatly approved of the way the skirt stretched across that shapely ass, and of how those fabulously long legs looked in their dark, seamed stockings and six-inch stiletto heels. She was, she decided, going to enjoy being a female Sam Spade.
It had been a month since Selina Kane and her girlfriend Claudia Cross had arrived in San Francisco, a month spent making love, taking long walks together, partaking of all the cultural delights the city had to offer, and getting to know each other more deeply and more intimately than they ever had before. She had known Bruce was her soulmate for many years - and despite calling HIM Claudia in public and delighting in the woman HE now was, she still thought of HIM as Bruce, still mentally referred to HIM using the male pronoun. To finally have him to herself, male or female, was a joy. It had been a glorious, magical month, but neither of them were the sort of person who could spend all their days that way. No, they needed a purpose in life, they needed challenges. Which was why they had set up Kane Investigations. Both were done with masks and spandex, but the idea of working as private investigators appealed to them.
Claudia had been the master detective, of course, but she had decided it would be useful for everyone to believe she was just Selina's secretary, and a scatter-brained bimbo at that, since people tended to let their guard down around someone they considered an airhead. Hence the blonde wig she wore at the office, the giggling and the breathy little Marilyn Monroe voice she adopted whenever they dealt with people professionally. Seeing this act and knowing this was actually the Dark Knight, the grim avenger who had struck fear into the criminals of Gotham, was something Selina found an incredible turn-on, and she was eager to talk her into playing that role for her in the bedroom. She knew that her girlfriend would, too, because given time she could talk her into almost anything that wasn't illegal. She didn't know it yet, but when they were ready to start a family, Claudia was the one who would be having their babies. Still, that was something for the future. Before then they had years ahead of them, years of making love and of solving mysteries together.
And Selina had never been happier.
The phone in the office rang, and the faux blonde answered. "Hello, Kane Investigations, may I help you?"
"Lion Tamer."
Catwoman knew it was time to catch another plane back to Gotham. "Hey, Boss Lady, I just got word about another tip to check out. Be back...well, whenever, you know..."
Selina nodded, watching her lover head out the door again. One of these days she was going to see what Claudia was getting into. Good thing she was in San Fran now, let that too sexy to be true Catwoman in Gotham have her own fun with that new Batman.
The End
