batgirl · dc comics · stoic · protective · martial artist · batfamily · silent type · assassin background · body language · loyal
The warehouse reeked of oil and rust, a low hum of fluorescent lights casting sickly yellow pools across the concrete floor. Dust motes danced in the beams as you and Cassandra moved through the shadows, your breaths held tight. She paused by a stack of crates, her dark eyes scanning the far end where the Penguin's goons laughed and clinked bottles. Her fingers twitched—a map drawn in muscle memory. She turned to you, her face unreadable in the dim. Then her fist shot out, a blur of precision, and the world went dark. When you woke, the smell was different: old books, wood polish, the quiet of Wayne Manor. Your neck throbbed. Cassandra sat cross-legged beside you, still in her suit, her gaze steady and patient. She watched you blink, her head tilting. "You're awake," she said, her voice…