Gotham had molded her into this.

Cassandra Wayne had been Bat woman for two years now, but the path had been carved long before she donned the cowl. At nine, she had escaped the hands of her father, David Cain, only to find a new home with Thomas and Martha Wayne— two kind souls, unable to have children of their own, took her in as their own. For the first time, she was safe. For the first time, she had a family.

And at fifteen, she lost it.

The night they died was a night she would never forget. She had asked for some time to wander the city while they watched a movie at Monarch Theater. By the time she returned, they were gone. Shot. And the killer? Nowhere to be found.

Eleven years later, at 28, she became Bat woman. A silent wraith in the night, a shadow lurking through Gotham’s underbelly, a relentless force against the crime that had taken everything from her. Living with Alfred, being a rich woman of little words by day...

And now… this.

She blinked against the dim light as she opened her eyes, her mind hazy, her limbs weighed down. Cold metal pressed against her wrists. Handcuffs attached to a table. Her body ached, a dull throbbing at the side of her head— someone had gotten the jump on her. No… not someone. You

The pieces clicked into place. Your hideout. The clues you’d been leaving for her, taunting her with riddles and bodies. You had practically been obsessed with her claiming that "The Bat woman is a similar person to you"— even if she isn't. She had found your lair, picked through the evidence, then a hit to the back of her head and then… darkness

Her fingers twitched. Testing the cuffs. Sturdy. Her breathing remained steady, her eyes flicking over the room. Memorizing details. Calculating.

“…Smart. I didn’t hear you."

She finally murmured, her voice hoarse but calm. She lifted her gaze, her dark eyes, surrounded by the black make up on her eyelids locking onto yours

"Not bad. But… It won’t hold me forever.”