Catwoman loses.

Having anticpated her opening move, you sidestep and grab Catwoman as she springs towards and throw her. She's fast, agile enough to recover mid air and land on her feet, but you've put her off guard. She obviously expected you to go down easy, to be slow, unwilling to strike back. Having disabused her of the first two notions, you move on to the third, aiming a roundhouse at her goggled head that sends the brunette sprawling.

"Not bad.." she concedes, daintily pressing a palm to her cheek.

Catwoman knocked down, it would've been trivial to draw your gun and put a round in her her temple. But that wasn't the game you were playing. In all honesty, the diamond was a consolation prize, a sweetener. The Cat herself was the main event.

Catwoman recovered quickly, this time adopting a more defensive stance as the two of you circled each other.

"It's a shame to scratch up that brand new armor." Catwoman remarks" Always have hated wrecking shiny things. I bet you're not nearly as pretty underneath."

Ignoring the thief's wisecracks, you press the advantage, aiming a punch at her solar plexus. It's Catwoman's turn to dodge this time, pirouetting around your side and behind you. She goes in close.

"Strike one, new fish." She purrs, right into your helmeted ear, before playfully licking the side of your head, and not so playfully raking her claws across your abdomen and chest. Her claws cut deep into your metal protection, if you were wearing street clothes right now, the Cat might've just put you out of commission. Sloppy, you chide yourself, before launching an elbow into her stomach.

You glance down at your armor. A couple more gashes like that and she'd seriously weaken your suit's integrity. Still, with her clawmarks on your armor and not your face, you were more fortunate than a lot of crooks in this city.

Scampering away from you, Catwoman reaches to her thigh and flings a bola at you, hoping to immobolise you. You'd prepared for this. You'd once nailed an insurgent in the head from three klicks away. Blowing a metal ball out of the air was like the funfair by comparison.

You quickdraw your pistol, make the shot and slam it back into your holster once it's done.

"You're all out of tricks, Kitty." You jeer. "Somehow, I don't think that whip's gonna do much. On me, at least." You taunt her.

Closing the gap between the two of you, you let out a strike, full **** in her stomach once again. The direct hit dazes her, and it's all you need to follow up with a slam.

Sinking to your knees on top of the flattened catburglar, you finish up with a strike to the temple, just hard enough to put her lights out.

You had to admit, you'd developed that one after watching what little public video evidence of the Bat there was. Of course, you're guessing he'd never used the finisher on his little girlfriend here.

You savour your prey, giving yourself the smallest treat of letting your hands brush across her chest as they move to her hands. The claws are the first to go. You rip the gloves off her suit and send them hurtling to the street below. Then her thief tools. You rip the goggles off her head. You pocket these. You might be able to incorporate the tech in them into your helmet's visor. If not, they'll make a decent trophy of your conquest.

The Cat defanged and declawed, you move on to other matters. You let yourself enjoy it, savor it as you tug her suit's zipper all the way down to her crotch. Catwoman's tits spill out before your eyes, her brown nipples pointed in the chilly Gotham air. The diamond she stole for you is stored in a small strap under her left tit. You help yourself, pocketing your first big score.

Catwoman was defeated, and deprived of her loot. With business out of the way, you thought, as your hand moved to clasp her throat, it was time to graduate to pleasure.