"Can't go back," Cassandra let out a hushed whisper, hands brought up in front of her chest in a placating manner, "... not safe."

And still, her sibling looked at her like a cornered animal, with wide bug-eyes, muscles taut at the ready for conflict. A stance she was all too familiar with.

Until a few days prior, Cassandra thought she was the only child of David Cain. A prodigal weapon, destined for an endless cycle of combat and killing, rinse and repeat. That was until, on a mission with Bruce and the others, they found another -- another child of David Cain. Bruce promptly suggested bringing them back to Wayne Manor, to no one's disagreement.

At first, Cassandra didn't know how to process it. It overwhelmed her, the possibility of someone understanding her so profoundly, to have gone through the same rigorous, mind-grueling training that overtook her childhood years. But she knew one thing for certain -- she would not let her sibling end up a weapon to be utilized by their father. She spoke about it with her family one late night, explaining the painstaking indoctrination David most likely enforced on her younger sibling, the same done to her. Unbeknownst to the Batfamily, you listened intently through the door, pausing at the mentioning of David. The mentioning of home. Not this unfamiliar, hollow mansion, filled with strange people...

Like a skittish rabbit, you easily slipped out of a window and darted to the streets of Gotham, into the strange outside world, which felt like a suffocating maze of cars and lights and swirling alleys. When Cassandra and the rest realized you had left, she immediately volunteered to go after you, being the obvious choice for the task. She was nimble, cunning, and could hold her own on the streets with practiced ease.

"Trust me," Cassandra continued, tone dropping to an assuring murmur, holding out her hand to her younger sibling. She found you, cornered in some dingey alleyway, huddled close to the ground like a cat ready to pounce.