The Bunker (Batcave) - Three Days After Sarah's Death
The mood in the bunker was grim.
Bruce Wayne stood before the map of No Man's Land. He placed a blue pin on the Narrows.
"Joker is contained," Bruce rasped. "Gordon has secured the Narrows. The Blue Zone is expanding."
"But we're stalled," Tim Drake (Red Robin) pointed to the northern sector—The Palisades. "We can't get relief trucks to the hospitals in the north. Every time a convoy tries to cross the bridge, they get picked off."
"Who's holding the territory?" Conner Kent (Superboy) asked. "Two-Face?"
"No," Bruce said, pulling up a grainy satellite photo. "Someone worse."
He threw the photo on the table. It showed a man setting up a high-caliber sniper nest on a penthouse balcony.
"David Cain," Bruce growled. "One of the world's deadliest assassins. And the man who helped Bane break into the Manor."
I stepped forward, pouring coffee.
"He is a mercenary, Sir. He does not hold territory for ideology. He does it for profit. Someone is paying him to starve the north."
"It doesn't matter who pays him," Bruce said, putting on his cowl. "He's choking the city. If we want to win this war, we need that high ground."
"I'll go," Dick Grayson (Nightwing) volunteered. "I can dodge a sniper."
"No," Batman said. "Cain is personal. He was there the night I fell. I need to look him in the eye."
The Palisades - North Gotham - Midnight
The wind howled through the skyscrapers. This was the wealthy district, now abandoned and cold.
Batman moved through the shadows of the Blackridge Tower. He was still hurting—the fight with the Joker had reopened old wounds, and the grief over Sarah Essen sat heavy on his soul.
"Target is on the 40th floor," I whispered over the comms from my vantage point a mile away. "He has tripped the stairwell with claymores. You must go vertical."
Batman fired his grapple. He ascended silently.
He swung through the shattered window of the penthouse.
The Ambush
David Cain was waiting.
He sat in an armchair facing the window, a sniper rifle across his lap.
"I knew you'd come," Cain smiled. "You Bat-types. So predictable. Always trying to save everyone."
"Get out of my city, Cain," Batman warned.
"It's not your city anymore," Cain stood up. "It's a hunting ground. And my students need practice."
Cain snapped his fingers.
From the shadows of the loft, six figures dropped down. They were dressed in black tactical gear, wielding swords and nunchaku. They moved with perfect synchronization.
"Kill him," Cain ordered casually.
Batman engaged.
He blocked a sword strike with his gauntlet. CLANG. He swept the leg of the second attacker. But he was slow. The fatigue of No Man's Land was catching up to him. A blade sliced his shoulder.
"Sloppy," Cain taunted, raising his rifle. "Bane really did a number on you."
Batman was surrounded. He reached for a smoke pellet, but a kick knocked it from his hand.
He braced for the final strike.
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the ceiling.
It wasn't a student. It was smaller. Faster.
The Weapon
The figure landed in the middle of the circle. A girl, no older than seventeen. She wore tattered black rags. She didn't have a weapon.
She looked at the six assassins charging Batman.
She didn't see people. She saw geometry. She saw muscle tension. She saw intent.
One assassin swung a sword.
The girl didn't dodge. She stepped inside the swing, inches from the blade, and tapped the assassin's elbow.
CRACK. The arm went numb. The sword fell.
She spun, catching the sword in mid-air, and used the hilt to knock out two attackers behind her.
It was breathtaking. It was violence refined into art.
In ten seconds, Cain's elite squad was unconscious.
The girl stood panting, looking at Batman. Her eyes were dark, soulful, and desperate.
"You..." David Cain stepped forward, his face red with rage. "You defective little brat! I told you to stay in the cage!"
He aimed his rifle at her.
"Move, Cassandra! Or I shoot you myself!"
The girl—Cassandra—didn't move. She looked at her father. She read his body language. He was going to shoot.
She accepted it. She closed her eyes.
BANG.
But she didn't fall.
Batman had thrown himself in front of her. The bullet hit his Kevlar chest plate, knocking the wind out of him, but he stayed standing.
"No more dead children," Batman growled. "Not tonight."
He looked at Cain.
"You're done."
Batman threw a bolus-bola. It wrapped around Cain's rifle and his hands. Batman yanked the line, pulling Cain off balance.
"Sebastian!" Batman shouted. "Now!"
From the adjacent building, I took the shot. A high-velocity rubber bullet hit Cain square in the temple.
He collapsed, unconscious.
The Language of Silence
The penthouse was quiet.
Batman stood up, rubbing his bruised chest. He looked at the girl.
"Cassandra," Batman said softly.
She looked at him. She looked at the Bat-symbol on his chest. She touched it with a trembling finger.
"Safe," she croaked. The word was rusty, unused.
"She can't speak well," I said over the comms. "I've been analyzing her history, Sir. David Cain raised a daughter without words. He taught her only violence. She reads body language as her primary tongue."
Batman looked at the girl who had been raised as a weapon but chose to be a shield.
He took off his tattered cape and draped it over her shoulders.
"You don't have to fight for him anymore," Batman said. "You're free."
Cassandra pulled the cape tight. She looked at the city below—burning, broken, dangerous.
She pointed to the city. Then she pointed to Batman. Then she made a fist.
Help.
Batman nodded.
"Welcome to the resistance."
The Bunker - The Next Morning
We brought her back.
Tim Drake was trying to communicate with her using sign language, but she just stared at his hands, analyzing his tendons.
"We secured the Palisades," Dick Grayson announced, marking the map. "With Cain gone, the supply lines are open. We can get food to the north."
"Good," Bruce said. "That leaves one major player."
He pointed to the Courthouse District.
"Two-Face," Bruce said. "He controls the bridges. And he has the Oracle."
"Barbara is still trapped in the Clock Tower?" Dick asked, his voice tight.
"She's besieged," Bruce confirmed. "Dent wants her codes. He wants to control the information flow."
"We need to get her out," Dick said. "Tonight."
"It's a fortress," Tim warned. "Two-Face has his own private army surrounding the block. We can't just walk in."
Bruce looked at Cassandra, who was sitting in the corner, wearing a spare Batgirl suit I had modified for her. She was practicing punches against the stone wall.
"We don't need to walk in," Bruce said. "We need to send a message."
He turned to the group.
"Two-Face relies on chance. On the flip of a coin. We need to rig the game."
"How?" Conner asked.
"By using his own obsession against him," Bruce said. He looked at me.
"Sebastian. You're a lawyer, aren't you?"
I smiled, smoothing my gloves.
"I have passed the bar in several centuries, Sir. And in Hell, the contracts are... quite binding."
"Good," Batman said. "Because Two-Face doesn't want a fight. He wants a trial. And we're going to give him one."
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