Cassandra in Batman & Robin Eternal #13
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Cassandra in Batman & Robin Eternal #13
Half-Truth || Solo
Few people realized how well Cass could lie and none suspected that she lied every day. Â It was a daily process- a persona she slipped into as easily as she moved a leg back from a ready stance to a fighting stance. Â She didnât even have to think about it anymore. Â One moment she was the little girl watching in anticipation as her trainer steadied his breath, target in his sight before pulling the trigger and the next she was the hero, cape whipping about her as she looked down upon the city she had promised to protect. Â
It had taken her years to reach this point.  Years of waking up to her own strangled screams as she fisted her sheets, desperately fighting back against the memories that sent her heart racing.  Except those dreams werenât always nightmares and those cries werenât always from fear.  Sometimes it was the mumblings of a frustrated child who had failed to defeat an opponent, stubbornly slapping her hands against the tatami mats, her body screaming âAgain!  Iâll do it again!â  And other times it was a gasp as if the air was knocked out of her as she leapt and the cold wind stung her face, tears forming in her eyes as she learned what it felt like to fly.
No, they werenât always nightmares but it was so much easier to nod along when asked. Â Easier than admitting she was happy in those dreams, not having felt that carefree since she was trailing after Cain, looking up at him with as much devotion as he put into every single one of his kills. Â Easier than admitting that the reason her fists were clenched so tightly that her palms bled was because the regret was closing up her throat as the homesickness washed over her.
So she lied, swallowing back the words that tasted like copper. Â She lied because she couldnât admit that she missed it -the exhilaration, the power, the control that she once had. Â Which was a laughable thought considering just how little control she had actually wielded over her own life, but at least back then she hadnât been plagued by the self doubt that was a constant in her mind now. Â She hadnât known words like casualties and victims, hadnât been tied down by repercussions or guilt. All she had known was the fight and that was all she had needed.
But now the weight of her own dreams bogged her down. Â How many times had she clung to a sagging punching bag, body worn out and chest tight as she realized just how much damage she had inflicted? Â How many times had she forced herself to recount just how many lethal strikes she had let slip in between the flurry of kicks and punches? Â Too many. Â And with each new case, the number kept increasing and all she could do was close her eyes and repeat her mantra over and over until it sounded true.
I donât kill. Â No one dies. Â I donât kill. Â No one dies.
  âNot with this. Donât make me force you down.â
"That's what you always say. Â Why can't I get a say in this? Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âGo ahead. Â Try.
  âYou know I canât. This isnât up for negotiation.                                âCome down.â
"That's a lie. Â You do whatever you want. Â No."
  âCome down from the chandelier, Cassandra.âÂ
"No. Not until you promise."
Daytime Escapades || Cass & Babs
âBig,â Barbara smirked. âWell, some of them are big. Depends on their native region. Â There are smaller ones that eat mostly spiders and flies.â There was excitement and curiosity in this little adventure that Barbara hadnât experienced in a long time. She was a self-professed adrenaline junkie, she lived for thrills, but they rarely carried over into her mundane disrobed daily life.
At least not lately.
There was a time when Barbara had been more open, not  nearly as narrow and rigid. Every day was a new journey. Her mind had been like a sponge, she soaked up information on anything and everything she could get her hands on. As a child, her second home was the library, devouring books like they were candy. It wasnât that she was closed off now; reality hardened everyone and sometimes she was a diamond - just with a little less luster. These days there was less enthusiasm and more trepidation, caution. Cassandra made her miss those days.
Expression softening, Barbara directed them west. âA few blocks this way and then four up and weâre there.â When the pair approached the first intersection, Barbara shifted weight from one leg to the other as she waited for the light to change. She looked at the young woman, smiling. âWhat kind of movies do you like, Cass? I have movie nights at my place a few times a month, whenever Dinah isnât busy and we have free time. Weâre doing it this weekend - having a classic sci-fi marathon.â Dinah had objected loudly to what Barbara had considered âclassicsâ but had eventually agreed, but not without her own interjections including an entire grocery list of snacks that Barbara had sworn to acquire.Â
Cass couldnât hide her smile filled with vindictive pleasure at the thought of spiders being eaten. Â âSpiders. Â Good. Â Donât like them. Â They move too fast. Â And too many legs.â Â She knew it was a childish fear and something both Cain and Shiva had chided her for while growing up. Â And even though now she was perfectly fine with handling spiders with her bare hands (in thanks to both of their training in stamping out her fears), she still felt her skin crawl whenever she saw one and always did her best to exterminate them. Â âThink I can get one for the penthouse? Â Never can be too safe with spiders.â
Cass was being a bit silly but she liked making Barbara smile. Sometimes she seemed so lost in her thoughts and suddenly seemed older than she really was. Â Cass knew she had been a regular civilian before becoming Batgirl and she always wondered what it was that had pushed her into the life. Â Bruce had the memory of his parentsâ death and Cass... well, the life was practically predetermined for her since it was what she understood best. Â But Barbaraâs history was still a mystery to her. Â Smiling more to herself than anyone else, Cass wondered how much she would be able to learn about her on this little trip.
Pausing at the corner, she tugged on her bottom lip as she thought over Babsâ question. Â âHavenât watched too many movies. Â Just what Alfred watches. Â He likes Shakespeare a lot.â Â Turning to Babs, she scrunched up her nose a bit. Â Cass liked spending time with Alfred but sometimes she just zoned out when she watched TV with him. Â âHavenât seen any sci-fi movies. What are they like?â
Her hair was long, Her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
John Keats, La Belle Dame sans Merci
Butterflies and Hurricanes - Muse
Change everything you are And everything you were Your number has been called Fights and battles have begun Revenge will surely come Your hard times are ahead
Bullseyes and Batarangs || Cass & Roy
Roy appreciated the ease in which this Bat approached him, the way she carried herself. She wasnât threatened by him (and she shouldnât beâ heâd never attack anyone without justifiable cause) she was confident that this was not a battle, but still on guard, still wary of the man before her. The red head liked that, respected that. She might have been new to Gotham, by his definition of the word of course, but she was no rookie.
"What can I say," The ex-Militant shrugged, grin still in place. "Iâm a giving kind of guy. Doesnât mean I can afford to let the bad guys go." He knew heâd be toeing the line. It was always that way when he was with the Outlaws. They werenât operating under the big boss of Gothamâs crime sweepers and that made them more dangerous, less desirable. Why wouldnât it? They had been killers after all, not murderers, but exterminators, and it had always made the big, bad Bat furious. Even now, though he had yet to off any of Gothamâs seedy street criminals, he was a rogue, an unpredictable, and he knew better than to think heâd be welcomed with open arms.
"Beggars canât be choosers, I suppose. Iâm not exactly filling theaters, but youâve seen my co-stars." Roy motioned to the man laying on the ground unconscious by their feet. "I canât be held responsible for their lack of ingenuity. I work with what I have." Stifling a yawn he leaned back against the brick wall, pocketing his hands, foot still braced on the copper stone.
"You can tell Daddy Bats what you want, princess. Sânot like I havenât dealt with him before." The red head snorted at the memory. Jasonâs anger at the man, he could understand it, he had similar emotions of his own. So, while he personally had nothing against The Batman, it was a pact of solidarity to his old friend that the ex- SEAL not agree with the Bat on anything. He supposed that meant not agreeing with the Batâs friends either. Now that made Roy laugh, a huff of breath escaping his nose, Jason must have had a time with it tooâ the Batman having friends.
That was odd. Broken speech patterns⊠an impediment maybe? No. It sounded more like English was this girlâs second language. He eyed her for a moment, trying to get a full gauge of information as he kept an easy grin in place, less obvious that way. Roy liked to hide his thoughts in laid back smiles, though by now, it was a habitâ one Kori often gave him grief for.
"Well, Black Batâ call this what you will," The red head made a gesturing motion, lightly raising his elbows but never removing his hands from his pockets. "But I think itâs an interrogation." He took a moment, years of training allowing him to think fast on his feet. A name, huh? He hadnât had one of those in a while, and he sure as hell couldnât offer up his civilian ID. Arsenal was his old mantle, but that identity belonged to the Outlaws and as of now, he wasnât one of them. He didnât feel like Arsenal, like himself, not yet, and he wouldnât until he was back with his old team. So that was out of the question. Besides, this outfit⊠it didnât have a mantle to it, a hoodie and a domino, he could be anyone, he was no one, and that seemed like a pretty honest answer to him.
"I donât have a name. Lost it somewhere⊠You think Batman could help me find it?" Perhaps it had been the months without real human contact, without pleasant and casual conversations, but Roy decided that he would try and get his full from this little interrogation; whether she wanted to call it that or not. He was itching for something normal, and this was really the only normal he knew.
The redhead was an odd one. Â Not that Cass wasnât used to a whole range of crazy when it came to dealing with Gothamites, but this man was something else. Â Not once during their whole interaction had the man tried to flee. Â Not that he hadnât mapped out any escape routes, that much was obvious by the way he quickly surveyed the alleyway and how he carefully positioned himself against the wall, but, at the moment, he had no intention of running. Â He almost seemed to be enjoying himself, standing in a deserted alleyway, throwing snarky commentary her way. And for her part, Cass had no intention of attacking him any time soon. She had no real reason to do so at the moment, not with the way he stuck around to chat. Â It wasnât everyday she came across someone so willing to talk, so for now, she would just roll with it, gleaning away what information she could.
Like the fact that he made a distinction between the good guys and the bad. Â It was distinction that was often made in Gotham but usually the only ones that were concerned with letting âthe bad guys goâ were the ones siding with the angels (or the Bats in most cases). Â âGood quality. Not seen here too often.â Â Cocking her head, she eyed him carefully. âDoes that mean youâre one of the good guys?â Â
It was a bit of a stupid question to ask. Â There was only one way to answer that question without him incriminating himself but Cass wasnât looking for any sort of confession of guilt. Â Right now she was more interested in knowing how the man perceived himself. Â That would tell her how she would have to handle the man and his activities and whether or not she would have to put a stop to him.
Moving to pace before the still unconscious perp, Cass cast the would-be rapist a scornful look. Â She especially hated rapists, so the masked man had already won some points with her for the takedown but she still needed more information on his intentions. Â âGuess you could call this,â and Cass restrained herself from nudging the man with her steel-toe boots, âsecond rate.â Â Pausing to give an him obvious lookover, her smile turned sharp before she continued her pacing, her cape fluttering ominously behind her. Â âWorking up to a big name co-star? Â Someone to get people talking and get you a bigger audience? Â Suppose a big takedown is one way to make a name for yourself in this city.â
And maybe this could be considered an interrogation but, by her standards, this was pretty tame. Â She hadnât tried to scare him yet with her usual creep factor or beat him into cooperating, so considering she had witnessed him beat a man senseless, this was more of a conversation than most in his situation would get. Â And while this wasnât one of her usual tactics, it didnât necessarily mean she wasnât open to other options. Â Because right now, she was getting more information than he realized he was giving up. Â Because as much as he attempted to be glib with his answers, there was still an undercurrent to all his words. Â He was studying her just as much as she was analyzing him and from his answers she could only guess that he was used to this sort of work and the scrutiny that came with it. Â Maybe thatâs why he opted for acting so brashly in a situation where most would turn tail; for all Cass knew, this sort of tĂȘte-Ă -tĂȘte may have been familiar ground for him. Â
Caught of guard by the âPrincessâ jab, Cass huffed at him even as she pocketed away that little Daddybats comment. Â So the man had dealt with Bruce before. Â Now that was an interesting piece of information. Â If he had dealt with Batman before, that could only mean that he had been some sort of player in the Gotham scene and if that was the case, that meant there was a file on him somewhere on the Batcomputer. Â No one had any sort of contact with Bruce without a file being made and suddenly she felt very grateful for that old chestnut of wisdom: âForewarned is forearmed.â
Pausing in her pacing at the honesty that laced his next words, Cass turned to stare at the man. Â While he had not been untruthful in his previous answers, this time there was a hint of sadness that laced his words, as if she had finally struck home. Â It was an odd thing to admit when he could have easily lied to her and given her a false name, so maybe this was something that he could not lie about. Â Whatever had happened, it was still too recent or painful a memory for him to even joke about -even if he tacked on that smartass remark to save face.
Leaning forward, Cass made a show of humming thoughtfully. Â âKnow a little about losing names. Â Instead of Daddybats, how about I help you find it?â Â Curiosity had finally won out but it wasnât everyday that Cass was presented with her own little mystery to solve. Â Plus, she wanted to see if the man was brazen enough to take her up on her offer even after his remarks concerning Batman.
âShould still give me something to call youâ, the hint of a smile present in her voice. Â âYou donât want me picking a nickname. Â Been told I have no naming sense.â
All This and Heaven Too - Florence + The MachineÂ
And I would give all this and heaven too I would give it all if only for a moment That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see âCause Iâve been scrawling it forever but it never makes sense to me at all
snowhills:
anon requested cass..
The Name Game || Cass & Tim
Surprise and confusion quickly fading, Tim frowned. But with Cass now working his head in slow circles, palms pressing firmly against his warm cheeks, the expression instead, came across as a childish pout. The teen had never really kissed another person before. He came from a family that didnât welcome physical affection, and in time, he himself never asked for it, avoided it, didnât know what to do when it was given freely to him. Tim had wondered for a while if Cass was the same. From the bits of pieces of information heâd received, the older girl didnât seem to come from a place that offered warm hugs and gentle kisses on the forehead after a bad nightmare, yet, here she was, easily hugging, kissing, nudging. Cass offered him kind words, and the young hacker just couldnât figure out why.
It was pathetic, but Tim briefly wondered if the girl knew something he didnât. That the kisses were because he was dying, because he had done something wrong and she felt bad for him. But the vigilanteâs words spoke against that idea, and if Tim had learned anything about Cass, itâs that when she took the time to speak, she didnât waste the effort on false words. Still, maybe this was, in fact, the only way she knew how to share certain things, to prove what she couldnât articulate. Where she learned it, Tim wasnât sure he wanted to know, but perhaps it did the trick and as far as first kisses went, he supposed he couldnât complain.
Letting out a weighted sigh, the teen stopped trying to dig deeper into the connotation. In society, kisses were usually shared between family, between lovers and while they were neither of those things, Tim also figured kisses meant something entirely different to Cass, someone who grew up outside of societies constructs. Peeling Cassâ hands of his face, the sixteen year old rested the girls hands back by her sides before speaking.
"Okay." He looked up at her from his seat before repeating again, this time with feeling. "Okay." And "I believe you." Because he did. Cass had slowly become such a huge part of his life (they had a two sided relationship now, thank you very much), she was his friend and she sure as hell could kick butt better than he did any day. So if she said she would protect him, even from The Joker, well, Tim knew she would at least try.
Leaning back in his seat, Tim let his head loll back, and to the side, glancing at Cass as he swiveled in his seat. His mind was still processing information, still worrying and looking for something but he figured it was as good a time as any to segue and hope the awkward and anxious feeling in his gut would leave. Cass was right about one thing though, he definitely felt a headache coming on.
"So, whyâd you come over in the first place? I doubt it was to rename my cat or tell me how irreplaceable I am to Batman."
Cass lifted one eyebrow skeptically as Tim placed her hands back on the bed, patting them lightly before leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. Â She supposed he had reached his maximum touch quota for the day, so Cass scooted back on the bed, bringing her knees up to her chest, to give him some space. Â While he wasnât reacting as badly as he could have to her unexpected touches, she was still aware that he needed to process everything that had happened; to analyze it all for some deeper, hidden agenda. Â But he wouldnât do that while she was there; no, he would wait until there was some solid distance between so that there was no way that she could distract him again.
And she respected that, knowing that he didnât like being thrown headlong into a situation.  So she accepted his âOKâ at face value because she knew that if he truly felt uncomfortable with the situation, Tim would have asked her to back off.  Because even though they were close friends, this was not the way they generally acted towards one another.  Usually their interactions consisted of pokes, questions, snide commentary, and a whole spectrum of faces but besides a few hugs, they were generally without any physical interaction.  To an extent, both of them had been deprived of the comfort of physical touch as children, and now they mostly shied away from it.
Cass had spent too many years equating touch with pain not knowing that she could do more than just break bones.  Even after she escaped Cain, the closest she got to affection with Shiva was when she would help her bandage her wounds.  It wasn't until she spent a whole year by herself in Metropolis that Cass started to realize the different uses for touch.  Hugs, high fives, handshakes -it was interesting to watch how people interacted so casually.  Even a punch to the arm seemed to scream camaraderie rather than the potential nerve strike Cass saw it as.  But it really wasnât until she meet Conner, who could just take her hits and laugh, that she began to understand that touch could be safe. Whether he was was grabbing her hand to drag her to a pizza parlor or throwing his arm over her shoulder as he imparted his wisdom to âyoung grasshopper,â all his touches remained light, easy enough for her to escape from if she needed to but, more so than his words, his movements let her know that he trusted her. Â
And that made her open up, made her want to return the gestures, like a squeeze to the arm or a knock to his shoulder that let him know that was learning to trust him too. Â And now that she was around Tim, Cass came to realize how important those lessons had been. Â Because even small things like squeezing Timâs fingers while they had both been scared during the blackout meant more to her any words of comfort they could have shared. Â She could trust actions and while she knew she was somewhat forcing that thought process on Tim, she hoped he could understand that for her touch was just that much simpler.
So going along with his change of topic, Cass thought for a moment, trying to remember what she was doing here.  âDidnât know about the cat. Need to update me more,â Cass said, wagging her finger as if she were scolding him.  âWas bored at home.  Came to visit.â  Noticing his deadpanned stare at her words, she shrugged.  âMore interesting than Batman.â  And at the mention of his name, Cass remembered what had prompted their conversation on irreplaceability.  âStill need a codename. Something to call you during patrol.â  Startling for a moment as she felt Schro walk over her foot, a small grin unfurled as she looked at Tim. âHow about⊠Catlad?â