Priestess Adularia: I decided to give up fanfiction writing in order to work on the books I publish. But I have been a huge fan of Catwoman for years, (the movie was crap, though) and am also a Justice League fan. Episode after episode, I prayed that Catwoman would appear. The character Cheetah was (with the exception of her name and clothes) remarkably similar, but it wasn't enough! So I decided to write a fanfiction. Not at all what I wanted it to be, but…
There aren't any names in this first chapter, until the end, but most people will be able to guess who I'm talking about anyway.
Besides Catwoman and Justice League characters, there's also a brief mention of the Teen Titans (a brief mention of them, anyway)

Disclaimer: Batman, Catwoman, Wonder Woman, Robin, and Raven belong to the owners of DC Comics and Teen Titans.
Which isn't me.


Every day, at the same hour, he went into his room and opened his drawer. He pulled out the same box, and stared for hours at the picture inside.

For a long time, she had been curious about what he did in that dark little room, but it wasn't until recently that she began to spy and realized that there was a certain hour in which he always looked at the same picture.

There was something about it that was so different from his usual expression. He stared at the picture with longing—dark, tortured…

There was another picture, too. He looked at it the same way.

But she already knew what that was. It was a picture of his parents.

After a long, long time wondering over it, she realized it must be a girl. And after an even longer time agonizing over it; she decided to do the only thing she could do.

She waited until the time was right, though her fingernails suffered. They were gone now, her fingers tipped in red flesh rather than white nail. She had never before worried about how she looked, but having fallen in love, she had grown increasingly self-conscious.

Never, before, had she been attracted to a man. She had been taught that they were useless scum, driven by crazed lust—and, indeed, she knew several men who were.

This man was anything but useless, anything but scum, anything but crazed, and she doubted he had ever felt lust in his life.

But what was the picture?

She waited until he was off on some mission. She snuck in very carefully, making sure not to disturb anything, not to give him any sign she had been there.

It was tempting, though. This dark, dusty room just screamed of him. It was hidden away, it was his heart, it held all his secrets.

But no. She just wanted the picture in his bottom drawer.

It was locked.

"Damn," she muttered. None of the keys she had stolen after nearly a month of planning would open it. With no other options, she ripped it open.

Alarms went blaring.

She panicked, grabbed the box, and dashed away.


Later, in her room, while everything else was in chaos due to the alarm, after spending hours breaking the box open, she took a look at the photograph that the object of her affections seemed to be infatuated with.

It was of a masked girl dressed in a sleek body-hugging outfit which showed off her generous curves better than if she was naked.

She hated the girl in the picture on sight. Her laughing eyes, milky skin, seductive pose…she was beautiful, alluring, with the dark mystery that she knew he would love.

Moving the picture aside, he saw there was another picture. This one wasn't masked, and she was wearing a purple dress with a split skirt that accentuated her long shapely legs.

She was just as beautiful, too, black curls tumbling over her shoulders. She was the same person as in the other picture, though it took a while to realize this. The same slender figure, the same laughing eyes.

She looks kind of like me

Immediately, pain struck her, so powerful she felt nauseous. Was that why he liked her? Because she reminded him of some girl?

Yes, she hated her. Because he loved her. It was so plain to see, even without him there. They were made for each other, no one could deny that.

And because of that, she could never have him.

Wiping bitter tears from her eyes, she glanced at the clock. She had been looking at the pictures for hours. Just like him…

She turned on a small screen.

A young appeared on screen, with a black mask and yellow cape. Behind him was a slim, lovely girl with white skin and huge, startlingly purple eyes edged in thick black lashes.

"Diana?" Robin asked, confused.

"Who's that?" the girl behind him asked.

"One second, Raven. Diana, what is it?"

Diana lifted the two pictures. "Who is this?" she demanded.

Robin sighed. "It's a long story. See, her name is Selina Kyle, also known as the Catwoman…"