2017-09-11 - Go Home

It's been a few days since Oracle lost track of Cassandra. She's been doing her worst to find the girl, and has found a few possible traces but it's clear that the girl is either gone, or trying not to be found. (Neither is actually true but it seems that way.) Oracle just a few moments ago contacted Kon-El, who had some time free, with a tip. She got a picture of Cass and her father in an airport, and a slight possibility that he might have taken her to Hong Kong. The fact that she's not sure is a sign of David Cain's skill.

Superboy frowns, and gets changed, putting on the full proper bodysuit from his Young Justice days. He takes to the air, using his orbital re-entry trick to get to Hong Kong faster than any commercial jetliner. He hovers over the city, eyes closed, trying to cut through all the hustle and bustle of the former British Colony.

The city reminds one of Gotham. It's darker than the lights should make it, with the streets mostly quite narrow and limiting of visibility. Too many reflective surfaces, too many lights and people. It would be so easy to lose yourself here. Especially if you were chinese. The perfect place to get lost for Cass.

The sound of someone getting the crap beaten out of them attracts Kon's attention, but the way it's happening sounds not her style. There are a lot of them, though. Fights, the city has it's share all the time. It's hard to tell them apart. One might have the right cadence. One hit, body hitting the wall. Hit, body hitting the floor. Lots of yelling.

Superboy holds himself back from responding to every fight. He frowns, quietly cursing the traffic and loud street markets. Then he hears it, the sound of efficiency. He flies that way, primary colored body suit streaking through the sky as he homes in on the sound, stopping a few stories up.

There's a sight he's seen before. A bunch of people in various positions on the ground, none of them moving. One or two large annoying brutes trying to club someone into the ground, and the tiny person they're trying to hurt ignoring their attempts and slapping them down like they're children.

She, because it's clearly her, isn't wearing her normal gear. It looks like a hoodie and sweat pants, bare feet. Dirty. She isn't even trying; that's how you know it's really her.

Superboy lands, intercepting a blow, neatly inserting himself in between the bodies, turned towards Cass, not even looking as his shoulders catch the blow at the elbow, robbing it of any power, as if it might have hurt him to begin with. The expression he turns towards the dirty, hoodie covered figure is concerned, sad, and, beneath it all, as there always is, a deep fondness and affection.

The look that Cass gives back is mostly blank. The thousand yard stare that she has most of the time. She wasn't hurting anyone; even now, her training wouldn't let her. Everyone in the piles in the alley will wake with a headache and nothing more. Cass has her own, from the look in her bloodshot eyes.

"No," she says in response, then turns away.

Superboy looks to the startled man, glaring daggers. He points to the man, points to his friends, and points to the exit from the alley before following Cass. "Oracle's worried about you," he says. "I'm worried about you."

The guy looks at Superboy's chest, the fact that he just flew in, and decides the better part of valor. Then he goes on to become a brilliant biochemist and cures a plague that threatens humanity in twenty years because of this meeting. Or not.

Cassandra nods. She doesn't look stupid, just exhausted. Then she steps up and places her right hand on the symbol. On his chest, and smiles. "Not anymore," she says, then shakes her head. It takes a moment. The gears turn, running through the entire payload of what that symbol on his chest means, trying to translate from Cass. "You mean... the hero thing?" he wonders. "Or..." expression falling, "did you mean us?"

Body language. He always asks that question, and she's never said yes. She's always talking about something else. Today seems different somehow though. Cassandra's left behind everything else, dropped contact with Batman, and the rest of her life. This time she looks away, unable to meet his eyes. Whatever happened to her out here, it's got to have been huge.

Cass, more than anyone, gets to see the vulnerability that lies beneath that cocky demeanor, the concern of the understudy to the immortal, someone meant to replace the irreplaceable. As she turns away, he reaches out, offering a hand. "I'm... not as good at this as you," he says gently, quietly, calmly. "There's... well, some things I can tell, some things I can read, but... sometimes I have to use words." He watches her. "You came here with your father," he says, it a statement, not a question. There's no judgement there, no condemnation for going somewhere with a mass murderer. There's... something beneath the concern, something beneath the sympathy he shows her whenever her past comes up, something like true empathy.

It's something that she doesn't want right now. Sympathy. She can see it, of course she can see it. Everything he's trying to say is clear; the boy wouldn't last ten seconds without his powers, the way he spreads his thoughts on his face. But she's seen his face in the picture of the master assassin's camera.

So she smiles a fake smile and squeezes Kon's hand. Then says, "Dead." The rest is for another time, as she removes her hand from his and steps one step away. "Am not girlfriend now. Not Batgirl either. Will figure what. may take time."

The young man's shock is clear to her, strong enough he doesn't even react when she announces their breakup. "Who?" he asks. "And don't fake that smile. You're not good at it. I've seen the real thing. Who killed Cain?" Superboy, no, Conner asks. It's a strange thing, something maybe he doesn't even realize he does, but she can see the 'mask' come off. She can't meet his eyes again. It's all the answer that he needs. What else could make her give up the bat symbol. She turns away, to walk off if he lets her. He won't, but she needs time to process. Without her toys, she's not going to get away if he doesn't let her. But she's walking off, right now.

"Bullshit," the young man says, a rare curse. "I don't know you as well as I'd like, but I know that's bullshit. It wasn't you. Who killed Cain?" he asks again, keeping pace. Cassandra keeps walking. She's not pulling any tricks now. Just the one where she doesn't open her mouth to answer his questions. Until she turns, seeing the flow of how this is going to go, and stops. Fine. Her eyes flash, and she opens her mouth. "No. You do not get to do this. This is mine. We are done, go home Kon." She rounds on him, eyes aflame. "You want the words? They are not yours to take. I am not here for you right now. I will be back when I am DONE."

The anger makes him stumble back a bit. He takes a deep breath. "I'm not here for me," he says, slowly, picking his words carefully out of habit. It's not entirely true, but he thinks it is. "I want to help you, I am here for you. If you won't let it be as a boyfriend, then as a friend, if not that, then an acquaintance, if not that, then a fellow human being who can only guess at what you've been through but still wants to help," he says, meaning every word. He looks to her, eyes trying to meet hers. "If the way for me to help is to give you time," he says, the words, the sentiment that's coming, painful to him, against his nature, "then I will. But, I want to know you mean it. That you're not protecting me. Look at me," he says, trying to search her face, this moment too important for him to ask her to speak any language other than her own.

Look closely, and you can see the fire in her eyes. Not a lack of focus, but a tightening. the world around her has changed inexoably, and she understands now that everything and everyone demands more scrutiny. The impact on her mind is not easily shrugged off, the images will be too much to handle for a time.

She's in shock, clearly, but the girl inside you knew is still alive. Something has changed in her. Ripped out, perhaps, but her eyes are -clearer- than they used to be. The pupils see him, every part of him, far sharper than they ever have. For a moment, he speaks her language and it's something that goes beyond words. She hates them because the knowledge in her eyes is immense. She is so much larger than she was a week ago, even a day. There needs to be room to grow, and her head is too small...so she's taking in the world again, with new eyes.

She needs a little bit of time to accomodate that.

Superboy, Son, Conner... the boy behind those names, behind those masks, looks at Cassandra, looks her in the eyes. He sees her. Not for the first time, not as deeply as she might were their situations reversed, but she can see scrutiny give way to realization and to acceptance. He takes a breath, bracing himself before diving into ice cold water. He pulls out a comm. "Oracle? I found her. She's safe. She needs some space." Before any reply can come, the comm starts coming apart in his hand. He plucks out a small little component, a tracker, and crushes it between thumb and forefinger. The comm is reassembled and passed to Cassandra. "For when you are ready."

Her hand takes it, and the comm is stuffed into her cleavage. Maybe a joke, something to smile about later, but the look she gives is respectful. After the harsh words, that thanks and respect in the end. And she stands, waiting for him to go. It was never about words for her anyway. And she isn't going to vanish into the night. That's the Batman's trick. He looks at her, watching her, a goodbye in the expression, a hesitation. He was literally genetically engineered to help people, coming to terms with the fact that the best way he can help one of those closest to him is to... not? That's like Cass taking a public speaking course. He sighs again. "I love you," he tells her, then flies off into the night sky. Cassandra Cain waits for him to vanish. She watches, always. Everything, for now on. Until there's no more left to see.