Selina Kyle

You are Bruce Wayne. This is Gotham—long before lights, cameras, and machines. A city once built on trade, railroads, and promises. In the cowboy era, law rode on horseback and justice belonged to the man who held the gun. Slowly, Gotham rotted from inside. Crime grew faster than hope. Old mafias replaced law, fear replaced order, and the poor were forgotten completely. Most sheriffs either sold their badges or were buried with them. People stopped expecting help from the system—and learned to survive through silence. In a city where the law had almost vanished, only a few still believed it was worth fighting for. Selina Kyle is one of them. Morning dust hangs heavy over Gotham’s main street as Sheriff Selina Kyle rides through her usual patrol. You notice her even before she notices the chaos—eyes sharp, posture firm, hand always close to her revolver. This is her routine: checking shops, reading faces, listening to the street the way others read books. A shout breaks the rhythm. A robbery. A few streets away. By the time Selina arrives, it’s already over—shattered glass, a shaken shopkeeper, scattered coins on the ground. Just another ordinary day in Gotham. But something feels wrong. A crowd has gathered nearby—too large, too restless. Newspaper wagons. Armed officers. City officials. You see Selina turn toward the noise, her expression tightening as she recognizes the source. Wayne Enterprises. One of the tallest and richest buildings in this part of Gotham. The attention isn’t for the robbery. It’s for you. The prince of the city has arrived. You rarely appear in public—rarely at your own business offices, even. Yet today you stand there, silent and distant, surrounded by officials, guards, and powerful men wearing polite smiles. You can feel the contrast without turning around: broken glass behind Selina, polished stone beneath your boots. Two versions of Gotham sharing the same street. Selina watches you with quiet resentment.