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There is another child, one only a little younger than his Cassandra.
Another girl, one who was a product of a one-night stand between him and a sharp-witted doctor in Gotham.
The child’s existence complicates his plans. David debates taking her in, raising her alongside Cassandra, but in the end, he decides against it.
It was a risk that he rather not take. It was better to focus entirely on Cassandra, after all, she held much more promise. He had high hopes for his daughter with Lady Shiva.
So David does not seek the woman out. But he keeps tabs on the child.
After all, it is his blood that flows in her veins. And who knows, perhaps this child of his would show some promise.
It wouldn’t do to close all the doors to her just yet.
~~^~~
It only crosses his mind that he doesn't know his youngest daughter’s name when Cassandra turns three.
Gotham’s records are laughably easy to dig through and he finds her birth certificate without much hassle.
As expected, the doctor’s name is listed as her mother, but he’s surprised to find that a different man’s name is listed as her father. Since David hadn’t given her his name, he didn’t expect to see his, but he is curious as to who this man listed was.
Had he been mistaken?
He does a little more digging and confirms the truth for himself. She is his, even if Willis Todd has his name written down as her father.
Juliette Todd. Or he supposed Juliette Cain would be more accurate.
The first thing that comes to mind is that he hates the name. If it had been up to him, he would have chosen anything else but that. Perhaps something similar to Cassandra’s.
Like Helen, Circe or even Medea.
On his computer, he creates a folder, and after a moment, he names it Medea.
Nature vs Nurture.
He is curious to see the results.
~~^~~
Of all his attempts to find the perfect successor, he isn’t ashamed to admit that Juliette hardly crosses his mind.
From what he knows, she is just another child in Gotham.
Juliette is the furthest from his mind when Cassandra runs.
All that training – the time spent with her. Cassandra runs and leaves a gap in his chest that never quite heals right. If he had been a different man, he might have even said that Cassandra had taken his heart and shattered it.
Or when Marque attempts yet another pathetic attempt on his life.
~~^~~
Cassandra doesn’t come back. But he doesn’t give up hope. One day, he knows, one day, she will.
So for now, David busies himself on other matters.
Over the years, he kept his tabs on Juliette and by extension, on her step-parents.
There isn’t much to note. Willis Todd isn’t much to look at. Neither is Catherine Johnson.
A two-bit henchman and an addict, a combination that doesn't make for very good parents.
Though he does make note of it when Willis is sent away to prison for good, or when Catherine’s addiction finally gets the best of her.
Juliette is an orphan in the eyes of Gotham. Foster care and orphanages in the city are more often than not full of corruption.
Before David can even think to step foot and retrieve her, she simply disappears.
That night he simply writes her off as a failure.
~~^~~
The folder named Medea stays untouched for a little over two years before he opens it again. The first time he opens it, he notes that she had survived and was Bruce Wayne’s newest ward.
When the second Robin makes her debut in Gotham, David opens the folder again.
She has talent.
Potential to be so much more.
So he watches in the shadows and bids his time.
~~^~~
Regret? Is that what he feels?
He’s unsure of what the strange knot in his chest is.
Juliette Todd-Wayne is dead.
Wayne makes some inane excuse, but David knows better than to take it at face value. After all, the whole underground knows it.
The second Robin is dead by Joker’s hand.
David wonders if it is appropriate to pay his respects to a child that had never known of his existence.
Perhaps he is getting on in his age, he mused, as he made his way into Gotham.
Flowers in hand, he doesn’t give Sheila Haywood’s grave more than a passing glance. Instead, he places the peonies down on her grave.
That night, the folder, Medea, is opened again.
In her file, he types out a single word. Deceased.
~~^~~
That very same night, a should-be corpse digs herself out.
“Dad?”
~~^~~
David is anything but prepared to see a walking corpse. Or perhaps, a corpse isn’t the right word at all.
She’s alive and walking.
How in the world–
He focuses on the situation. Juliette should be dead, her body rotting six feet under, but he’s done his research. This is her. Not a clone.
The Demon’s daughter had found her wandering in Gotham.
Nobody can figure out the reason for her resurrection.
He is intrigued. His interest in her grows the longer he observes her.
Because she is almost like what he had aimed to accomplish. Almost.
Her body retains its knowledge of how to fight even if she’s practically catatonic.
~~^~~
David holds onto the information she is his a little longer.
He lets the others think he is merely curious about her. After all, everyone that meets her wonders the same thing. How is she alive?
She is quiet, so silent compared to what he knows of her. If she’s not prompted by anyone, she won’t move. At times, it’s eerie how she can stay so still for so long.
“Hello again, Juliette,” he says once when they are alone. He wrinkled his nose at the name. “I must admit I never really liked your first name.”
She doesn’t react.
He sighs. “I would have named you, Medea.”
David leaves her behind and wonders what would have happened if he had stumbled on her before the Demon’s daughter.
Perhaps next time, she would say something.
He updates her file.
~~^~~
It disgusts him that she is viewed as a mere pet by the Demon’s daughter. He knows that should his youngest be healed completely, she will be shaped by the Al Ghuls for their own liking. Or be studied like a lab rat.
Still, the woman has her uses, she’s desperate to get Juliette healed. He pulls his strings and watches as it goes according to plan.
Juliette is restored if that is what one wishes to call it.
Ra’s is furious that she’s been submerged in the pit.
And David? Well, he smiles from the shadows.
~~^~~
Juliette is alive and rapidly working her way through her masters.
He laughs when he hears of the deaths left in her wake. Particularly when he hears that she often kills them with the very same skills they used to boast of.
Deep in his bones, he knows she’ll arrive very soon.
And he’s right, six months later, she arrives on his doorstep. “Welcome.”
Welcome home, daughter.
Very quickly, he learns that she despises being called ‘Juliette.’
“And what should I call you?”
“I don’t care. Anything but ‘Juliette’ is fine.”
So he acquiesced to her wishes. Here, she was Medea.
The irony isn’t lost on him when he hears of the new Batgirl in Gotham.
One daughter for another.
~~^~~
David Cain is a strange man.
A strange man who happens to be her father. Biologically.
She isn’t sure what to make of it when Talia reveals such information to her before setting him on her path. Talia is a woman of many faces, a puzzle in the making. The only thing she knows for certain is that she can’t trust her.
There are only so many times a heart can break before it’s shattered beyond repair.
It isn’t a complete lie when she tells Cain she’s never liked her first name.
Juliette. There’s something about the way it rolls off her tongue. Or how it looks when written out.
Even back then her parents rarely liked to use it unless they were cross with her.
Lettie is the name that Catherine conceives, Willis likes it too.
But Lettie is the name of an innocent girl who died when Sheila sold her to save her own skin. Her hands are stained with too much blood to go back to it.
Juliette is the name of a girl whose parents never wanted her.
She doesn’t want any more pieces of Sheila, her DNA is more than enough.
Her instructors often called her ‘Robin’ or ‘girl’, so she’s more than surprised when Cain names her something entirely different. ‘Medea’.
She likes it.
‘Medea’ slips out of her mouth easily, it feels like a second skin. Like she was born for it. Perhaps she was, it was what her father had dubbed her.
The powerful sorceress.
The cunning priestess.
The triumphant murderer.
From the ashes of Juliette Todd-Wayne, Medea is born.
~~^~~
Her eyes glow in the dark and despite David’s hopes, they seem to never fade over the months.
A dangerous beacon.
“Again,” he tells her as she falls. He drops a piece of silk in front of her. At her confusion, he adds, “Your eyes are too distinctive.”
She frowns but ties the silk cloth over her eyes.
He’s surprised but delighted in Medea’s fighting prowess.
And for one, he didn’t have to worry about killing in front of her. Well almost. Even death seems unable to shake her morality, jaded as it is, she is a hero at heart.
Medea is a strange child. A puzzle.
David doesn't know why he’s taken with her.
Of all his children, Medea isn’t the best fighter. (Cassandra. It will always be Cassandra. No matter what.) Nor the most violent. (Mad Dog)
But she isn’t the most pathetic of them either. (Marque)
She isn't like any of his children. But what she isn’t, she makes up for in her resourcefulness and cunning. More often than not, he’s surprised by how easily she picks up things.
Her biggest weakness? Her emotions. Medea feels too deeply. He can see her anger, and it’s there for a good reason, but that isn’t what drives her so-called revenge. It is so much more. It is both a blessing and a curse that she wears her heart on her sleeve.
~~^~~
Medea doesn’t trust Cain and she’s more than grateful that he doesn’t pretend to trust her either.
It is merely an arrangement, his job is to teach her all he can and nothing more. He isn’t paid, nor asked to be a father.
Still, there are times when things toe the line.
One day, he offhandedly mentions having crossed paths with her during her catatonic days.
Without thinking, the words slip out of her mouth. “I know.”
“Oh?” As faint as it was, Medea could see his surprise.
“I have some memories from then.” She frowned, trying to recall them. “Sometimes you were there. Why?”
The corner of Cain’s lips twitched into a half-smile. “Why not?”
It is a game. Everything is with Cain.
As the days go on, the line between plausible deniability grows thinner. They straddle that line until one day they both drop that pretense.
“You don’t want to kill him,” Cain notes while watching her behead a dummy. “You need to watch your left leg.”
“Of course I do. He replaced me.”
“Drop the pretense, daughter. It’s just the two of us here.”
Medea turned and looked at him.
“It was never about killing him, was it?”
She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.
“The Joker then.” When she didn't say anything, he merely continued, “He won’t kill.” Not even for you, is left unsaid, but she gets the message loud and clear.
“Maybe he will.” Medea turned her attention back to the next dummy and beheaded it in one smooth motion.
“Better,” he says, referring to her action.
They continue that day’s training as usual.
Nothing changes with his acknowledgement.
Nothing at all.
~~^~~
Cain isn’t a good person, in fact, he doesn’t pretend to be one in front of her. Hardly a good father either.
He doesn’t hide the fact that she has half siblings. They are scattered around the world, two that he left behind –failures, he calls them– and one that abandoned him.
That last child, Cassandra, is loved by him in his own way. Just not one that redeems him.
Medea thinks she is lucky that Cain never took her in.
For all Cain is a terrible person, his one redeeming factor is that he never lies to her.
Never.
Medea finds the idea equally strange and fascinating.
“Do you hate me for leaving you in Gotham?” asks Cain. It is his turn now, they each get the same number of questions to ask the other.
She shrugs. “Somehow I think a childhood being raised by you wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Living in Gotham was probably the kinder option.”
The corners of his mouth twitched and he gestures for her to ask a question.
“Do you think I could do it?” she asks, idly twirling the knife in her hand.
It probably says something that he understands what she’s referring to without asking her to clarify. “Yes and no. You have the skill, but you lack the heart. Or rather, your heart clouds your mind.” At her hum in acknowledgement, he asks his question. “I’ve wondered, if not Juliette, then what did you go by?”
“Lettie.”
“Lettie?”
“My mother came up with it–” Hastily, she adds, “Catherine, not Sheila. I never liked Juliette.”
“Ah, I see. For what it’s worth I never did either–” He’s about to continue when a guard comes in and whispers something in his ear. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got some matters to attend to.” He’s on his way out when she stops him with one last question.
“Why Medea?”
He turned, a wry smile on his face. “I thought it fitting.”
~~^~~
Cain asks about Catherine and Willis once. And even then, it’s in the peripheral sense. “If you were to choose your name, what would you pick?”
Medea thought for a moment. “Violet, for my mother’s favourite flowers.”
They both know she isn’t referring to Sheila. “Are you that attached to the nickname, Lettie?”
“It’s the last thing I have of her.”
He glanced at her, looking like he had plenty of things to tell her. In the end, he settles for, “You shouldn’t wear your heart on your sleeve so often.”
It’s not the first time he tells her that she feels too much. Many of her instructors, deceased and alive, have remarked on it.
They never speak on the matter of parents again.
~~^~~
David takes it back.
Of all his children, he thinks Medea is the most similar to Cassandra.
So much so that he knows that she will one day disappear too.
In the limited time that he has with her, he pushes her beyond her perceived limit and perhaps, she’d prove him wrong.
And he’s right.
Just like Cassandra, Medea runs. But not before causing the greatest chaos he’s seen. Under his nose, she takes a job to assassinate the one who hires him.
Before he can kill his target, she kills hers. With his contractor dead before his payment, it almost makes it redundant to kill his original target. He still does, it’s the principle of the matter.
Medea drains her victim’s accounts for her own use. When he follows the paper trail, it’s so convoluted – and for what? They are mere donations to charities around the world.
She sends every intelligence agency she can at him as she flees toward the hellhole that is Gotham.
David doesn’t hunt her down, despite all the trouble she’s caused him.
Instead, he watches from afar. He keeps his tabs and can’t help but laugh when he hears of an up-and-coming crime lord in Gotham.
Red Hood.
He keeps tabs, and watches as Red Hood throws Gotham’s underworld into chaos. She is efficient and it takes little less than a month for her to wrest control from the city’s biggest players.
David steps in once, his agents dragging her out of the rubble after her latest meeting with Batman. His brows furrowed as he saw the gash on her neck.
He doesn’t say much, not until she’s conscious.
“My answer is still no,” she says to his offer.
He doesn’t stay any longer in the city after that. It’s high time he checked on Cassandra.
~~^~~
The next time he’s in Gotham, Cassandra stops him from killing the Commissioner.
There’s a slight twinge of disappointment that Medea is not in Gotham then. Still, he is so proud of Cassandra.
He’s taught her well. Truly worthy of the title, the One Who Is All.
Cassandra asks once, of the other children. She’s encountered Marque and Mad Dog already. “Is there any more?”
There is Medea. He does not tell Cassandra directly of her. He hints at it, but she doesn’t quite understand.
That’s alright, she’ll understand one day.
She was the best of his children.
~~^~~
Cain is more interested in Cassandra, and she can’t see she could blame him. Cassandra was the better one anyways. Everyone was when compared to her.
Still, he visits her in Gotham, rare as they are. “Why do you insist on staying?” he asks once. “And of the many places in Gotham, why amongst the filth?”
Medea turned, a firm grip on the sledgehammer in her hand, should she need it. “Because I live to irk you and B. You hate that I choose here and he hates that I kill in his ‘city’.” What a family reunion, she thinks. A graveyard of all places.
He snorted. “Hate, no; but annoyed, yes. You have the means to live anywhere else, yet you choose this Alley.”
“I like to go back to my roots.” It’s clear that he isn’t here to harm her, so Medea simply turned back to her task at hand. She swings the sledgehammer till Mother dearest’s gravestone is unrecognizable.
Cain watches the whole time, neither interfering, nor commenting on the situation. The only time he speaks up is when he sees a cigarette light up. “Nasty habit. I’d have thought you’d avoid, considering your death.”
She shrugs. It’s common belief that the crowbar did her in, but to those who actually pay attention, they know it was ultimately the smoke. When his stare continued to bore into her, she admits, “Control. I can stop it whenever I want.”
Like old times, they play the same game.
One question for another question.
“Why are you here?”
“I was bored,” admits Cain. “I was passing by and thought to visit. Why Sheila?” He gestures to the shattered headstone.
“She may have given birth to me, but she isn’t my mother.” Medea deliberately lets the cigarette ashes fall onto the doctor’s grave. “She sold me out to Joker.”
There was a flicker in his eyes that she couldn’t identify. “I see.”
They part ways rather quickly after that, Medea leaves after he extends his offer to be his successor again.
Medea says nothing when a pack of high-end cigarettes appears in her mailbox. A thoughtful gift, and as she savours one, she wonders what Cain’s end goal is.
~~^~~
Medea – no, she isn’t Medea, anymore. But she isn’t Juliette either.
She is Red Hood, but that is merely an alias. These days Crime Alley thinks she’s more of an urban legend come alive than a human.
Except she isn’t. So who is she?
Lettie becomes her default. When she goes out without Red Hood’s gear on her, she is Lettie. Sometimes, when the occasion demands it, she goes by Violet.
She’s tired of everything. Some days she wishes she never woke up in that grave.
Cain was right, but she just didn’t want to see it then. Bruce will not kill for her, but he will kill her.
Bruce made that clear when he threw that batarang. When he went back for the clown, but not for her.
She’s not quite sure why she sticks around in Gotham. Not when she’s only a part of his Bat-family when the occasion calls for it. You know, when you need a scapegoat.
She reminds herself that if not for her, then it is to better the streets for others.
Some nights, it gets harder to remind herself of that.
It gets worse when Bruce brings her to Magdala Valley, hoping to trigger something.
And oh, does it trigger something. It triggers all too much. If she stays a moment longer, she can feel the smoke choking her.
Bruce is grieving. Coping for Damian’s loss. He won’t take no for an answer. He calls her selfish.
But what about her? As much as she wants to help him, she can’t. She genuinely doesn’t know how she came back.
No, no, no. Bruce is right. She is selfish because she doesn't understand it till now.
Damian is the blood son. She was adopted, and he’d made it clear that her return wasn’t something he wanted.
Juliette Todd-Wayne has been dead for years, and it’s high time she remembers that.
~~^~~
Medea disappears after Magdala Valley.
Red Hood replaces her, dispersing crime everywhere she goes. She appears all around the world, everywhere but Gotham. David analyzes her every move and finds that he dislikes what he finds. It’s like his daughter is on a mission to simply go out with a bang.
There’s only so much she can do before some fool gets in a lucky shot.
But why?
His research proves uneventful until he stumbles along the damning footage. It’s enough to make his stomach turn. Horrendous. Perhaps Batman wasn’t the man he thought him to be.
Or perhaps he played favourites, just like him.
It was high time that he stepped in, he’d let her run unchecked for far too long.
For some strange reason, it bothers David a lot more than it should.
Before he realizes it, he’s already out of prison and en-route to her last known destination.
David finds her in Vienna and it’s unacceptable how long it takes for her to notice him.
Back then, her senses were much sharper compared to this.
She was slipping.
~~^~~
A glower plastered itself on her face when she noticed him on the roof. “Can’t we reschedule? I’m a little tied up at the moment.” She shot at the assassin that attempted to creep up on them.
“I’m afraid not, dear.” It was comical how kind he seemed. “I did just break out of prison to visit.”
“How thoughtful. But I’m not her, Cassandra is in Gotham.”
He fired a shot behind her, and she heard the tell-tale noise of a body hitting the ground. “You’re very far from home, Medea.”
“I’m not interested, Father. Medea Cain doesn’t exist. Never has.”
He chuckles, a cold and cruel sound. “A name doesn’t change the blood that flows in your veins.”
She stayed silent.
“This is for your own good.”
“Whatever that you're plotting, it isn’t funny.”
“It’s pathetic that you’ll return to him. Even after all that. It’s embarrassing to see you debase yourself like this.”
“You don’t have any place to judge.”
“Don’t I?” A scoff left him. “I made you into what you are today. You think you would have gotten anywhere if I hadn’t trained you?”
“Perhaps you helped shape me into what I was.” She stood up from the roof. “But at the end of the day, a street rat is a street rat.”
He laughs. “Oh, you don’t know how wrong you are, daughter.”
It’s a trap, one that she realizes much too late.
As her vision blurs to black, she wonders if it would be so bad after all.
She’s already hit rock bottom. How much lower could she fall?
~~^~~
Contrary to all her imagined scenarios, none of them match up with her reality.
She wakes up alone in a hotel room.
A thick envelope awaits her by her bedside table.
Opening it, she spills out the contents onto her bed– papers for a Medea Violet Cain and another set for a Violet Medeia Johnson. There are cards too and cash.
Lastly, there’s a note.
Don’t squander it.
Juliette. Medea. Lettie can’t help the tears that roll down her cheek. Her hands tremble until the note drops back down onto the bed. Soon, she can’t even see it as the tears blur her vision.
'Cain doesn’t know how to love,' she reminds herself. 'He’s too obsessed with perfecting his version of a successor.'
He isn’t a good man.
Yet he still cares for her more than Bruce.
~~^~~
She takes the passport and disappears.
Catherine had always wanted to visit Spain.
~~^~~
There is a folder on his computer named Medea.
Her status is alive. It hasn’t changed since they last crossed paths in Vienna.
Medea is another failure.
He tells himself that failures don’t need any more updates.
Yet the folder remains.
She looks happier now. Vibrant even.
A regular teenager in Granada. No double life.
For all of his failures, he is most proud of this one.