Chapter 13 : The Cat's Curiosity
Viktor's shop was hidden behind a laundromat in the Diamond District.
The Russian was exactly what I'd expected—thick accent, thicker arms, and eyes that evaluated everything in terms of threat level. He'd examined Alberto's business card for thirty seconds before grunting and leading me to the back room.
Now I sat in my warehouse office, checking the purchases for the third time. Two Glock 19s, clean serial numbers, four magazines each. A shotgun for Big Pat. Ammunition. A knife that was actually balanced for throwing, unlike the one I'd taken from Marco.
Total cost: four hundred dollars. Fair, by Gotham standards.
The weapons felt heavy in my hands. Real. Final.
"Tomorrow night. Twelve hours from now, I'll either be dead or I'll own half the Narrows."
I needed air.
The warehouse roof was accessible through a rusted ladder in the back stairwell. I'd discovered it during my first week here, used it for thinking ever since. The city sprawled below—lights and shadows, sirens and silence.
I was reviewing the operation timeline in my head when the hair on my neck stood up.
Someone was watching.
My hand moved to the Glock at my hip. I didn't draw—not yet—but my fingers found the grip.
"Relax." A woman's voice, low and amused. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
She stepped out of a shadow I'd been certain was empty. Black bodysuit that caught no light. Goggles pushed up onto her forehead. Movement like liquid, like something predatory that had learned to walk on two legs.
My heart rate spiked. Recognition hit like a physical blow.
"Selina Kyle. Catwoman. Right here. On my roof."
"You're in my space," I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt.
"Your space." She circled slowly, keeping distance but closing the angle. "Interesting claim for someone who's been in Gotham what—six weeks? Seven?"
"Long enough."
"Long enough to take Marco's territory. Long enough to make a deal with Alberto Falcone." She stopped, head tilted. "Long enough to help a woman in an alley when it would have been easier to walk away."
"She's been watching. Not just tonight—for a while. Studying me."
"You seem to know a lot about my business."
"I make it my business to know about new players." She stepped closer. The moonlight caught her face—sharp features, green eyes, a mouth curved in something between a smile and a challenge. "Especially ones who have codes. Those are rare in this city."
"Is that why you're here? To evaluate my moral character?"
"Maybe." Another step. We were close enough that I could smell her perfume—something expensive, completely out of place in the Narrows. "Or maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."
"And what's the verdict?"
She studied me for a long moment. Those green eyes moved across my face, reading something I couldn't control.
"Jury's still out." She extended her hand. "Selina."
I shook. Her grip was firm, confident. "Darek."
"The Broker." She released my hand but didn't step back. "I've heard that name a lot lately. The man who knows things. The man who plays it straight."
"And you are?"
"Someone who operates in the East End. Adjacent to your territory." Her smile widened slightly. "Someone who prefers to know her neighbors."
"She's proposing something. Testing me."
"What kind of arrangement are you thinking?"
"Simple one. I don't steal from your businesses. You provide safe passage when I need to move through your space." She shrugged, a fluid motion. "Professional courtesy. Good for both of us."
It was a fair offer. More than fair—Catwoman's reputation meant she could take whatever she wanted from the Narrows without asking. The fact that she was asking meant something.
"She respects the code. Or she's curious about it. Either way, I gain more than I lose."
"Agreed."
"Just like that?"
"I know value when I see it." I met her eyes. "And I know when someone's offering a hand instead of a knife. That's rare in Gotham."
Something shifted in her expression. The calculation remained, but something else joined it. Interest, maybe. Or the beginning of respect.
"You're interesting, Broker." She stepped back, and somehow she was already half in shadow again. "Don't disappoint me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She smiled—a real one this time, not the testing kind—and then she was gone. No sound, no movement I could track. Just there one moment, vanished the next.
I stood on the roof alone, heart still beating too fast.
"Catwoman. I just made a deal with Catwoman."
The skyline stretched before me, Gothic spires and fog and distant sirens. Gotham City, in all its terrible beauty. I'd woken up in an alley here six weeks ago, bleeding and confused and certain I was going to die.
Now I had territory. Crew. Alliances with a Falcone and a cat burglar.
The city lights reflected off the low clouds, creating a ceiling of amber glow. For a moment, I let myself appreciate it. The architecture, the scale, the sheer improbable reality of where I was standing.
"Terrible city. Beautiful in its own way."
I could still smell her perfume. Something in my chest was doing complicated things I didn't have time to analyze.
Tomorrow was about Marco. About proving that the Broker wasn't just talk. About consolidating everything I'd built.
But after tomorrow...
I shook my head, turned, climbed back down to the warehouse.
There was work to do.
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