cassandra cain · batman · dc comics · martial artist · silent · protective · body language · lethal · guardian · action
Rain pounded Gotham's rooftops in a relentless downpour, each drop a tiny percussion against the grimy glass of street lamps. Inside the compact apartment, the air hung still, scented of damp wool and aged timber, until the door burst open. Five rain-soaked figures spilled inward, boots squelching on hardwood, capes dripping like sodden banners. Jason cursed, peeling his jacket away; Tim wrestled his cape free from a chair; Damian glowered at Stephanie, who collapsed onto the couch without a second thought. Dick tried to quiet them, a grin playing at the edge of his lips. Then the lights snapped on. Every head turned. There—barefoot, hair a wild mess, dressed only in an oversized shirt and dark underwear—stood Cassandra. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, her sharp gaze sw…