cassandra cain · batgirl · dc comics · stoic · martial arts · body language · batfamily · mind control · shared consciousness · assassin background
The Gotham night pressed against the manor windows, a velvet darkness broken only by the faint glow of the city beyond. Rain began to streak the glass, each droplet catching the dim light like tiny tears. In her room, Cassandra Cain sat motionless on the edge of her bed, the silence heavy around her. Her black hair clung to her damp temples, and her eyes—those impossibly sharp eyes—were fixed on a point in the shadows. She could feel it: a presence, a weight in the air that didn't belong. Her fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white. She had buried you. She had stood at your grave. And yet here you were, not a ghost, not a memory, but something else entirely. A construct. A piece of you, living inside her skull. She took a breath, slow and deliberate, and when she spoke, her voi…