The Penguin

Penguin was a violent brute, a lecherous creep and his phoney accent was annoying. But... he probably wouldn't blow Selina's head off pending the result of a coin flip. Probably. The choice was clear.

"Well Holly, I got a little show that'll make up for what I did to Gismondi. Momma's going to a strip club." Selina smiled, springing off the edge of the building, her whip extending.

-

Selina darted across a few rooftops, putting some distance between herself and the Falcone stashhouse, then descended to street level. She'd boost a bike, and then scoot on over to Club Iceberg. It was at times like this that she envied Wayne's old set-up. Gliding over the Gotham skyline, swooping down into your self-driving car/tank whenever your arms got tired. Must've been nice.

Just as Selina was looking for a suitable vehicle, a GCPD truck came blaring towards her. Selina cartwheeled away, crouching to take cover behind a parked car. Only, the cops inside had more to worry about than little old her.

A black SUV had pulled up behind them. Armed men were leaning out of the windows, ventilating the crashed truck with bullets.

"Stop firing! This is Montoya of the GCPD!" a voice came from the police truck. "What we're hauling, you're not getting. You're welcome to a few hollowpoints, though!"

"Get out and give up the loot, and we'll make it quick! We all know the GCPD ain't shit now the city's Bat infestation's been taken care of!" The leader of the squad of crooks called out, taking refuge behind one of the SUV's doors.

Montoya and the officers backing her up were out of their wrecked, smoking vehicle too. Yep, this was developing into quite the little standoff, Selina thought.

"We've still got a little fight in us, pendejo. Ask your buddy, why don't you?"

It was at this point that Selina noticed the guy in the front passenger seat. The one with his brains hanging out the back of his ski mask.

"Oh, I bet a spicy one like you's got plenty of fight." The criminal leader said, training his intricately decorated revolver at the Latina. "Once we've relieved you of all your valuables, maybe we'll find out exactly how much."

The attackers, of which Selina counted four, were all clad in black dusters. A couple, like their boss, were rocking sixguns. The other two were living in the 20th Century, toting an **** rifle and submachine gun.

They had the cops on the run. It was just Montoya and two of her comrades.

"Selina, get out of there." Holly warned. "We've got a job to-"

Selina cut her off. No way was she running for safety. The whole situation was just so... thrilling. Clambering onto the top of the car, she prepared to pounce. Only question was: on who?

Her cash-hungry side said knock out the pigs, and hope this mysterious new crew split the share with her. If it came to it, she was confident enough in her abilities that she felt she could wipe out everyone there.

Then again, she could do with Renee Montoya owing her a favour. The senior detective was motivated, sharp, not to mention easy on the eyes. Back in the day, she might've actually busted Selina once or twice, if Batman hadn't always been quicker on the draw.