Title: "A True Hero"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One Gothamite's view of the Batman/Catwoman dilemma.
Warnings: Het
Word Count: 692
Date Written: 12 February, 2012
Challenge: This is the full version of a story I wrote for a Batfic-contest LJ comm's biweekly competition
Award: The drabble version of this story won first place in the Batfic-contest in which it was entered!
Disclaimer: Bruce "Batman" Wayne, Selina "Catwoman" Kyle, Gotham City, and any other characters mentioned within are οΎ© & TM DC comics, not the author; are used without permission; and may not be used without permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: The challenge was limited to a drabble of 100-500 words. I had to cut my original story by almost 200 words to make it fit, so I thought I'd include both versions for our readers to choose from and decide which is best. This is the full, uncut version.

The humans call him a hero. Even my Mother says he's a good man, too good, and that's why they can't stay together. Yet he's no hero. He's never once helped my kind.

I've seen him lurking throughout the alley ways and jumping over the buildings many nights while I've been out on the streets. I've seen him rescue who knows how many humans and stop both thugs and hardcore criminals alike. I understand why he's viewed as a hero, but he's never done anything to help me or my brothers and sisters.

We've been out in those very same alley ways many nights when he's swept by. We've been starving and desperately poking around in the trash, looking for a nibble of anything that we may actually be able to eat. There was one night when a thug grabbed my sister. Her scream echoed through the alley. I know the great Batman was around, but he didn't even stop to look. He heard her cry and kept going.

I tried my best to beat that thug off, but he just kicked me away. Our family was coming from every corner, but we were still too little against him. Then she showed up. She's always been kind to us, constantly giving us food and care, but it had been a little while since last we'd seen her. We'd thought she was gone. After all, no one ever stays around us for long.

I still remember to this day how she flew into that thug. She was a vision of her purple and black costume; long, ebony hair; silver claws; high kicking legs; and lithe, muscular arms. She sent that thug packing, and I'll tell you something else. The Batman, as great as he's rumored to be, never manages to keep the bad guys away. They always find a way to come back. He takes them away again, but still they come back. Every time he takes them away, they always return. It may take them months, years, sometimes even just nights, but they always come back to wreck more lives. My Momma, on the other paw, when she sends some one packing, they stay gone.

They stay dead. I've heard him gripe about it, tell her she's a killer and that she shouldn't be doing what she does. The guy doesn't make any sense. I mean, really, she shouldn't be saving lives? She should let these creeps come back and hurt more innocents like he does? They call him a hero, and her a villainess, a thief, but I know who the real hero is.

A real hero is a being who sees pain and suffering and not only cares but actually stops it. She saves lives, and it doesn't matter to her how big or small that life is. Actually, Mom doesn't care much for humans, but I've seen her save a few dames.

She's coming home now, after another victory no doubt. I stand and stretch, then race off, with the rest of my family meowing all around me, to greet her. She's wearing a grin and new jewelry tonight, but I know before I even look into her eyes that she's troubled. Tears she won't let fall are shining in those emerald orbs when I do look into them, and I can smell him on her. He's been by again. They've fought once more.

He's told her how bad she supposedly is, but I've got news for him, news I'll one day find a way to make him hear. He's not the hero. She is, and as I rub my furry body against her long legs, I meow, telling her that she is a hero, thanking her for saving our lives, and letting her know that it's his loss, not hers, that he doesn't want to stay with her. Who wants to be with a character who dresses like a giant rodent, any way, and has an ego bigger than the city? She'll find the right guy one day, and I'll be right there beside her, making sure he keeps her happy and treats her as she deserves. Meow.

The End