Chapter Text
Cassandra Cain, the Black Bat, stares out across the skyline of Hong Kong, and thinks.
A year into her new life in this city, she still feels unfamiliar with that skyline.
Maybe it’s because it’s so much bigger than Gotham, she thinks, watching the lights reflected in the harbor water ripple and warp. Maybe it’s because in Gotham there had been Barbara and later Bruce and Tim and Dick and—others, to show her around, to introduce her to the little crooks and crannies, the secret spots, the best places for spying and the best rooftops for running.
Gotham had been hers, had been as familiar and wonderful as the back of her own hand. It had been home, her first home, and it had been a part of her, and the absence of the city made Cassandra raw and uncomfortable. She had thought, at first, that it was the air of Hong Kong that had made it hard for her to breathe, that had made her eyes water and her chest tight, before she realized that, no.
As her roommate Cunxin had pointed out, she was just homesick.
Is homesick, if she’s being honest with herself.
She tilts her head to one side abruptly from her position, hidden in the shadows, as one of her listening devices crackles to life, letting her know that her target was moving.
She moves to her feet, emerging from the darkness, striding towards the edge of the roof, each step sure and confident.
It doesn’t matter that she’s away from Gotham.
She has taken this city in. It is hers, now, under the protection of the Bat. It might be strange and unfamiliar, and unsure of what to make of her, but some truths carry over throughout the world.
Criminals are still a superstitious and cowardly lot.
And Cassandra is still a detective.
She reaches the edge of the rooftop and jumps.
Her ragged, tattered cape flares out around her, and she hears shouts from the street below her, sees and hears the flash of camera photos, and she allows herself to fall, almost enough to be dangerous, before she throws out her hand, and her grapple flies out, grabbing ahold of the next skyscraper, and she swings, up, the wind pushing against her exposed face and she allows herself a small smile as she lands.
Hong Kong might be different, but it’s similar enough to Gotham in many ways. It has a skyline that’s perfect for Bats.
Perfect for Cass.
Her communicator pings in her ear, the noise that means that her civilian phone has a new message. She ignores it. Only her roommates—former roommates, she corrects herself—have her number, and if it was an emergency, they’d call.
She leaps again onto the next roof, less obviously and visibly this time, and begins to pick her way across the city, towards her destination.
She had arrived in Hong Kong with a bag full of cash—Alfred had hidden a check in her bag when she had left Wayne Manor for the last time and little else. She had left her costume in the arms of Stephanie Brown, she had left her gear in her apartment, she had left her few treasures and mementos in the Manor.
She had brought with her only some clothes, some basic supplies, and a single photograph of her family, and she had been running for a month by the time she stopped in Hong Kong, panicking because the next stop on the boat had been Macau, where her life had changed for the first time.
Hong Kong had been as good a place as anything, Cass had decided, throwing herself into the city. She had squatted in a warehouse for two weeks before she’d found an advertisement for a place, and had answered it, sure they wouldn’t want her as a roommate.
But no, they hadn’t minded her halting, stuttering Cantonese or her lack of a job. She’d had money, and they’d been kind, and really in need of a fourth roommate.
There had been Cunxin, a ballet dancer, Xiao Yin, the computer programmer, and Ho Seng, a waiter at a local restaurant. They had taken her in and helped her learn the city. Ho Seng had helped her get a job at the local tea shop. Cunxin had taken her out to the ballet and helped her find a studio that had taken her in as a student. Xiao Yin had helped her bandage up her injuries after a hard night, and hadn’t asked any questions, although Cass’s confession had hovered on the tip of her tongue.
She misses living with them, but when Tim had arrived in Hong Kong, given her the costume, and arranged for her to get a stipend from Batman, Inc., she could hardly justify living in the cheap apartment.
It was better this way, she reminds herself. She has more room now, room for her gym and her training and her tools. She can leave her costume on the ground, and not have to worry about anyone walking in.
Bruce had even surprised her for her birthday and arranged for a ballet studio to be set up in her apartment, with beautiful floor to ceiling mirrors for her to watch herself practice her moves.
She loves her new apartment.
But she does miss living with people. She misses Ho Seng bringing home food from the restaurant, the sound of Cunxin’s warmup music in the early hours of the morning, and Xiao Yin’s yelling at the television during her K-Dramas.
She pushes them out of her mind as she approaches her destination—the newest skyscraper on the Hong Kong skyline, Hanson Heights. Her lip wrinkled as the bright, gaudy logo became visible.
Erik Hanson was a name that had been familiar to her in Gotham, if not urgent or important. A gangster, she remembers vaguely, and he’d had something to do with fashion.
She’s been investigating his activities in Hong Kong for a little while, but for the most part he’s been keeping his nose clean. The building of his skyscraper had been perfectly by the book.
He’s been causing chaos, Cass is sure of it. There’s been money poured into some of the local gangs, and violence has been on the upswing, and plenty of the gangsters have been wearing the logos of his industry, and have weapons and drugs from Gotham, but he’s been careful enough with the money trail that Cass has no proof. Nothing beyond the words and whispers of a few criminals, none of which Cass can use.
Cass has been running herself ragged, trying to find something. People have been dying, and the rumors have been getting worse. She’d intercepted a shipment of ScareGas last week and been forced to call Batman Inc. for help with the disposal. The gangs of Hong Kong have been eagerly swallowing up anything Hanson can sell them; weapons from Gotham have a superstitious level of power. They can topple superheroes,
They might be able to stop her.
(Unlikely.)
But then, yesterday, Cass has finally found something. Something that might allow her to finally put Hanson away, and get his weapons off the streets.
An auction. Illegal, underground, and apparently very dangerous, if Cass’s source can be trusted.
Well, she can’t exactly trust Cricket, but she thinks his information is accurate.
A dangerous weapon, one that he’s going to sell to the highest bidder… and has just been moved into the building. He doesn’t trust it to his normal warehouses, far away from him, with layers of shell companies and a complicated money trail to protect him from Cass.
Cass grins to herself as she lands on the rooftop.
Breaking in is easy, especially with all the tools that Bruce and Tim have been sending her. She doesn’t like all of them, but picking locks is subtler than breaking down the door, she has to admit.
Sure, she can fight her way through all of his security, but what if he moves the weapon? Much better to make sure that they don’t see her coming.
Hanson’s penthouse is on the top floor, but the vault on the thirtieth floor, squarely in the middle of the building, which she has to admit is a pretty decent plan. She can’t tunnel up, she can’t just hop in through the window.
Normal people would have to take three separate elevators to get there, but Cass has a laser knife as a birthday present from Dick, and she uses it to cut threw the floor of one of the elevator shafts, allowing her to get to the floor she needs to be at.
She grins to herself as she arrives, spotting the impressive vault door.
But then she stops short as she examines the security system. Several feet of solid steel, lined in lead, and elaborate keypad lock… all of those, she expected. The motion sensitive cameras have already been looped and she can see pressure sensitive pads on the floor.
She’s prepared for all of those. She’s no Catwoman, but she’s good at breaking into places. Bruce has taught her well.
But she isn’t prepared for one, simple thing.
The vault is designed to be opened by two people.
She scowls to herself, and walks back and forth, examining the mechanism, her communicator pinging softly in her ear, reminding her that the camera loop only lasts so long and that the guards will be back and a thousand other things that just mean she doesn’t have time.
The pressure sensitive pads requires the weight of two people to be standing at opposite ends of the vault, to enter two different codes at the exact same time, and two present two different retinal scans, and then to turn the handles to open the doors, and Cass doesn’t have the equipment for this.
She has no backup to call on, in this city.
Her stomach clenches uncomfortably as her communicator pings again, letting her know that she’s running out of time.
The auction’s not for another three weeks, she reminds herself.
She’ll figure something out.
Cass turns on her heels and leaves, doing her best to cover up any traces of her presence as she goes.
Then she goes home and collapses onto the gigantic bed, and stares at the ceiling.
Her phone starts to ring, and she glances at it, wincing as she sees the missed text messages from all of them.
“Hello?” She asks, grateful that all of her roommates are fluent in English.
“Cass!” Xiao Yin sounds relieved. “You okay?”
“I’m… fine,” Cass says. “Not hurt.”
Xiao Yin sighs in relief. “I just… we hadn’t heard from you in a while, and we were getting worried.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. When was the last time you spoke to someone?”
“Spoke to Tim. Last week.”
“Cass,” Xiao Yin’s voice is fond. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know. You should come by this weekend. We miss you.”
Cass sinks further into the pillows. “I know. I’ll… try.”
“… I’ll let you sleep then.”
“Thanks,” Cass says, and she doesn’t have to fake the yawn. “I’ll visit. Soon. Promise.”
“That’s all we ask.”
Cass groans, rolling off her bed onto the floor.
Xiao Yin is right.
Cass doesn’t have to do this alone.
She, in fact, can’t do this alone, as much as it might rankle her.
She’s on a timeline, and people are dying, and… it might be nice to see one of her brothers again.
She goes across the room to her Batman Inc., issued computer, and makes a call.
“Black Bat?” Batman appears on her screen—Bruce’s Batman. She smiles and waves, happy to see him, even if it’s just through the screen. She’s so glad he’s alive.
Him being gone had been… awful. It had ruined everything, and even if things weren’t fixed, things were better, at least, now that he was back.
“Is everything okay?”
Cass squirms. “Need—backup. Two people job. Can you send… someone?”
He nods. “Of course. That’s what Batman, Inc. is for.”
She makes a face. “Can it be—someone I know? Don’t want to—explain things.”
He nods, thoughtful. “Of course. I’ll see who’s free, and text you the details of the flight when I make the arrangements.”
“Good,” Cass says.
He pauses, looking at her.
“How are you doing?”
She freezes.
“Fine,” she lies, and slams the button to end the call before he can ask her any more questions. Or worse, call her Black Bat again.
And then she goes to bed and dreams of Gotham and the barest glimpse of a purple cape.