Chapter Text
Words. They’re like sand. Every time she tries to grasp it, it will always end up slipping through her fingers.
Words, as she quickly learned, were a distraction- especially for the people she fought against. It made them waste precious seconds, something she used to her advantage as she swept them off from their feet.
Words, she had decided, were confusing. She could never comprehend them the same way that others seem to do. Instead, she was taught to read the body, to read the next step of her opponent's move before it could even happen.
But in return, her comprehension for text and speech has limited her to near muteness. She has never made conservation with anyone before, not even with the man in charge of her training- he relied more on actions than words. Communication isn’t entirely impossible, but would be harder to enact with someone like her.
However, she didn’t let this deter her. She was quick to absorb the skills her father wanted her to learn, easily defeating her opponents in training and combat. No matter who her father has sent for her, she could always come out victorious in the end.
At least, that’s how she understood it. Whatever she was doing, she knew it was good because her father had deemed it so.
And, maybe, the lack of words is what allowed her to feign ignorance as she struck the killing blow to her current target.
She watched as the man’s eyes bulged out, his breath coming out in short wheezes before he began to choke on his own blood. The hands that were grasping at his throat have released their grip as his arms swayed towards the ground. His eyes stayed open, but all she could see was the reminiscent of the fear and then.. Nothing.
Once the twitches stopped, his body had turned eerily still.
The young girl waited, her curiosity turning to confusion as the man showed no sign of further movement.
She turned to look at the man standing at the doorway, hoping that her father could give some sort of answer. But instead, all she could see was Cain’s smile, his body language showing signs of satisfaction and pride.
“Good job, Cassandra.” He praised her. As intangible those words may be, his daughter recognized the sound of his approval.
Then, she must’ve done the right thing. Her father wanted this to happen, and from what she could tell, she has carried the task out flawlessly.
So.. Why isn’t the man in the chair moving?
She found herself staring back at the stranger. There were only signs of previous movements, the reactive display of terror that she normally sees with previous opponents. Fear, terror, the struggle to fight back- all the signs were there. But no matter how badly she had struck them, she could leave them knowing that their bodies still hold life- and most of all, that she made her father proud.
But this was different. This man’s body has become unreadable to her, as if it was no different than analyzing an immovable rock.
Cautiously, her hand trailed towards the man’s face.
The moment her fingers made contact with his skin, she quickly pulled back and readied her stance. She expected the man’s body to come back- whatever that meant. At a very least, a twitch to show that he’s still there.
Instead, there was only nothingness. There was now a mark of blood from where she touched him, reminding her that the hand she used was the hand that dealt the final blow.
A form of dread began to form at the pit of her stomach.
Helplessly, she listened to the sound of her father’s footsteps. She watches as he approaches towards the mahogany desk before resting his gun in his sling.
“He is dead,” Cain explained, even though he knew words were intangible to her. “You’ve successfully killed him, Cassadra- just like I knew you would.”
She tilts her head. Kill and Death are sounds she remembers hearing in passing. But she never paid attention to them because they were just words , and she was taught to pay no mind to such things.
But she has never been exposed to their true meanings until now, when her hands are sticky and coated in blood as she stared at the face of a man who was just another target. Who was supposed to be just that.
But this particular test was different, making her stomach churn in a way she doesn’t like.
For the first time she felt herself bearing the weight of those words, her own actions. Whatever she has done to this man, all she knew was that he was never coming back. That his last moments were spent being struck by fear and pain, hands grasping helplessly at a fatal wound, terror laced in his now lifeless eyes-
When her father laid a hand onto her shoulder, she jumped. She found herself leaping off the table and landing away from her father and the now-deceased man.
Part of her was surprised at the sudden action, and judging by the look on her father’s face, he was too. But she can’t help but look back at the dead businessman, a person who died by her own hands. She took away his body’s language, his life.
She quickly realized that her father wanted this.
David Cain let out a thoughtful hum. “Now that he’s dead, the lack of body language must’ve spooked you,” He smiled. But his smile was different now (or, was it always like that?), filling his daughter with apprehension rather than warmth. “But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
The little girl read him carefully, trying her best to calm the turmoil boiling up inside of her. That’s right- her father hasn’t done anything to harm her before, there would be no reason to distrust him now. Everything she’s done was to make her stronger, to become a skilled fighter that could hold her own against this dangerous world.
But, this man wasn’t dangerous to her. She could tell from his slow reaction that he wasn’t a fighter like her or her father. She could count a million other ways of apprehending him without the need to kill. And why did she need to kill him? What made her father decide that it was okay for her to take away something so- so alive? To make it so they’re not them any longer?
She was taught that people could be dangerous. Not once has it crossed her mind that her father was included in that group.
Her hands clenched into fists. She watched as her father took a knee before stretching his arms, asking for the embrace that she usually gives after a task well done. But she didn’t feel successful, victorious, or triumphant. She couldn’t stop glancing between the dead man and her bloody hands.
She didn’t return the hug.
The assassin looked at her quizzically before sighing. “I guess since it was your first kill, it’s reasonable for you to be a bit skittish,” He stood back up before heading towards the exit. “No worries, we’ll just have to work on that later on.”
She said nothing- not that she could if she had wanted to. She was confused, hurt, but still wanted to believe that her father wanted only the best for her, and not just- this.
But this is what her father does for a living. It’s what she has been trained for.
Then, does that mean David wanted this type of life for her, too?
Her eyes traveled from the back of her father’s form to one of the opened windows. A sudden urge overcame her, begging her to slip out while she still had the chance.
But even if she did listen to her gut, where would she even go? She hasn’t memorized these foreign places as well as she liked, and there's also her lack of speech to account for. She would have to find ways to provide for herself, all while watching her trail because she knows her father would track her down- if not her, then someone else in his line of work will.
Realizing that his daughter hasn’t moved, Cain turned to look over his shoulder. “We must leave now if we want to catch the flight in time.”
She pursed her lips. As skilled as she may be, she was still young , and would be too vulnerable to face the world on her own. She didn’t see how tethered she was to her father’s side until now.
It was with that final thought that made her follow wordlessly behind her father’s towering form.
David Cain is known as one of the world’s greatest assassins, skilled in not only combat, but also in preparedness for whatever tasks are given his way. He learned the value of always being one step ahead of your target, and perhaps, such thinking is what led to his greatest weapon; Cassandra Cain.
In the past, there were multiple attempts made at training someone worthy enough of being his successor. Some, he even trained from their childhood. And although they all came out to be the ruthless assassins (Except for a certain Bat, but he would not like to be reminded of that failure), none of them were worthy enough in his eyes. They were too far ingrained with outside influences for him to fully mold them into an ideal successor.
Then, I must train someone from birth, He thought, To have them exposed to the world of fighting the moment they could open their eyes.
Coming to such conclusions, he hunted the whole world to find the perfect match. After much searching, he found one in a pair of sisters practicing martial arts: Sandra Wu-San. But he also quickly learns how much Sandra holds back because of her sister, that she could never reach the heights of her potential as long as Carolyn was by her side.
To him, the solution was simple- remove Carolyn from the picture.
Driven with revenge, Sandra stopped at nothing to get back at her sister’s killer. When she finally reached him and faced off against the League of Assassins, she had finally learned what it’s like to not hold back, to unleash the greater potential she had yet to reach as a fighter.
It had made Cain only more sure of his choice of having her bear his child, the ultimate weapon bred from their own genetics.
Once Cassandra was born, it was unsurprising that the parents parted ways. Cain spent the next several years molding Cassandra as the ideal assassin, all while Sandra set out to fight every skilled fighter in the world, reborn and spreading her legend as Lady Shiva.
The fact that Cain played a part in making Lady Shiva one of the greatest- No, the greatest martial artist in the world thrills him to no end. With both parents’ history, he has no doubts that their child will be the stuff of legends once she reaches her full potential.
He even took it a step further by raising Cassandra into learning nothing but the way of fighting. He didn’t let her learn to speak or write in any languages, ensuring that her mind is filled with nothing but actions befitting for a lethal assassin. He also limited her contact with other places and people- only bringing in people when he needed to once again test the height of his daughter’s skills.
Not once has her progress disappointed him. Everything she did had exceeded his expectations, from the moment she learned how to disarm a gun to the moment she was able to carry out her first kill.
But ever since that day.. Things started to change.
Cain watches carefully as he stands behind a glass barrier. From his view, he could see Cassandra on the other side, facing off another assassin. She had just immobilized the previous two and was on her way dealing with the last one.
Unlike the other two, this assassin carries a sword in hand. Cain wasn’t the least bit worried- his daughter had faced worse opponents before.
What he is concerned about, however, is how she’s been dealing with them lately.
The assassin rushed forward with a clear aim to the heart. Reading his movements, the young girl side-stepped, disarming the man in mere seconds before jumping back, the sword now in her possession.
Cain leaned forward with anticipation. “Yes, strike him with a fatal blow.”
But Cassandra was having none of it.
She threw the blade behind her, discarding the weapon as she took up a fighting stance. After a moment of confusion, the assassin shook it off as he charged towards her once more.
It was easy to tell that she let the assassin come to her. Cassandra aimed for joints, having her opponent fall towards the ground in mere seconds. As he struggled to get back up, the girl showed no hesitation in knocking him out cold.
The man fell down once more, thus signaling the end of her training.
Cain grits his teeth. This was the problem. Ever since they’ve both gotten back from their ‘trip’ in Macau, Cassandra had started to become less violent in her training. She would still fight with that same precision, but all of her attacks have become less fatal and more immobilizing, if anything.
For a moment, he worried that she lost her ability to read her opponents, but upon further inspection, he realized that her change in fighting style was deliberate. It’s as if she doesn’t want to harm her opponents, no matter what challenges are thrown at her.
He was no fool. He knew that all of this had to do with her first kill. How it has brought this change is what Cain wants to know.
“Enough, get the assassins out of there.”
Swift as a shadow, the other assassins quickly hauled the unconscious bodies away. He scowled at their lack of injuries. He was used to his daughter leaving them in a bloody mess, the type of results that he actually prefers.
He eyed the assassins carefully. There’s no doubt that they’ve also noticed his daughter’s gradual change, meaning they’ll have to report it to the Demon’s head. He scowls at the thought of losing his trust with Ra’s. He had promised that Cassandra would be the one worthy of his respect, thus earning herself the position of Ra’s personal bodyguard.
But none of it will matter if she doesn’t learn to kill.
Conjuring a quick idea, he ordered his men to keep the last one behind.
When Cassandra noticed the assassins not taking away the last body, she knew her father was up to something.
On cue, she watches as Cain enters the room.
His shoulders were stiff while his face wore a frown. He’s displaying the same frustration that she’s been earning for the last couple of training sessions.
He used to smile at her, only when she did her job well. The fact that he isn’t smiling now proved the opposite of that.
(The last time he smiled, it was after she killed that man.)
It’s been weeks since that day, but she can’t help but replayed that moment over and over in her head. She couldn’t get the picture of death out of her mind, and it got so bad to the point where it affects her way of fighting.
Cassandra had found herself being conscious of her moves, striking in a way that would deal the least amount of pain to her target. She was never aware of her actions before, but now.. All she could think about was that man’s lifeless face.
She doesn’t want to kill anyone else.
She doesn’t want to kill.
And her father disapproves of it greatly.
“Cassandra,” he called out her name. “I hope you’re aware of my displeasure with your training lately.”
She could only stare back at him, her eyes unwavering. She doesn’t need words to express her stance on the matter.
“I see,” His eyes narrowed. “Then you’d leave me no choice.”
As he reaches for his gun, she readied herself. Training with her father was rare, and most times left her with more bruises than she could count, but it’s the price she was willing to pay.
However, he wasn’t aiming the gun towards her. Her eyes widened as she finally read his intentions.
Relying on her ability, she quickly sprung into action. She jumped to push Cain’s arm just as he was about to pull the trigger. The bullet missed the unconscious assassin and ricocheted off a nearby wall.
Cassandra looked back to make sure the man was alright. When she sees the rise and fall of his chest, she lets out a sigh of relief.
The relief was short-lived as her father backhanded her with the butt of his gun. She landed on the ground with a thud, feeling blood trickling down her face.
“Insolent girl!” Cain glared at her, his hand shooting out to grab the collar of her shirt. “You are made to kill, to bring death to your enemies! That assassin would stop at nothing to harm you, yet you would fight to save him?”
His daughter would only look at him with complete defiance.
“You are a weapon, a tool that I created. You’re meant to become the best of us, better than me- but you cannot reach those heights unless you get over your trepidation to kill!”
Then, he released his grip on her. He went for the discarded sword, throwing it at her feet as she stared at him.
“Prove to me,” He pointed at the sword, then towards the assassin laying on the floor. “That you’re still worth something.”
Cassandra looked at the sword hesitantly.
Slowly, her hands curled around the handle. She rose to stand on her feet, the sword weighing a thousand times more than she remembered it to be. She walked until she was standing before the assassin.
Raising her sword, she glanced at her father one more time. She read nothing but expectancy on his face.
Gulping, she turned to face the unconscious man. And-
“No.”
She discarded the sword once more.
The rage on Cain’s face was the last thing she saw before her mind blacked out.