| tropolis - October 4
Cassandra Wu-San woke from one of the deepest, most peaceful sleeps of her life.
The mont awareness returned, instinct replaced drowsiness. Her training surged up like a reflex.
Cassandra, daughter of Lady Shiva, had been molded since infancy to beco the perfect assassin. Her mother had carved away every softness: brutal training, a life of constant violence, even severed vocal cords so her mind would grow around the language of motion instead of words.
Because she never learned spoken language, her thoughts did not form in sentences. They were impressions—currents of intent, tension, danger. She read people the way others read text: every shift of weight, every breath, every twitch an entire paragraph.
The last thing she rembered was sparring against a League of Shadows agent.
Now she was lying on a soft mattress with a real pillow in an unfamiliar, clean bedroom. A luxury she'd never had.
An exam? Another test from her mother?
No obvious weapons.
Footsteps approached—heavy, tall, over 200 pounds. Cassandra slipped the pillowcase off the pillow, climbed silently onto the shelf beside the door, and waited. Whether the subject was to be killed or captured, she'd find out later. First she'd strike.
The door opened.
Cassandra launched herself at the silhouette, looping the pillowcase around their throat—only for two strong hands to catch her by the armpits and toss her back onto the bed. She flipped mid-air, landing ready to fight.
But the man in front of her—a young, well-muscled figure in a black shirt and grey sweatpants—was unreadable.
No tells. No tension. No openings.
Her gift let her predict nearly anyone's next move, but this one's presence was a blank wall. Danger. Severe danger. Every instinct urged her to flee, yet he blocked the door and was closer to the window.
This test was too harsh. She would fail. She braced herself for pain.
Instead, he raised his hands in a deliberate gesture of surrender.
She froze. Why would he—?
His body shifted in slow, intentional motions. Cassandra understood him instinctively: Sothing is gone. You have a choice.
Then he exhaled sharply in frustration.
"How do I tell her her mom is dead with just body language? Guess I'll have to do it psychically. Hang tight, kid."
She understood none of the words—only that he ant no harm.
A sudden spike of pain split her skull and she collapsed back onto the mattress, unconscious.
**
| tropolis - October 5
When Cassandra woke, sunlight filled the room. The young man entered wearing a white shirt and dress pants. He sat on the bed.
"What…" Cassandra whispered.
She froze.
A word had co out of her mouth. A real word. Her vocal cords had been cut. This was impossible.
"Your brain used to process movent as language," the young man said. "I gave you knowledge telepathically and rewired so things. Now you can understand spoken English and Mandarin, though it'll take ti before it feels natural. You probably didn't understand anything I just said, but don't worry, it'll settle."
His words were a blur, but she could tell he was explaining sothing he had done to her.
She touched her throat.
Smooth skin.
No scar.
She ran her hands across her face, arms, legs—everywhere.
All her scars were gone.
She stared at him, stunned.
"I fixed those too," he said lightly. "Hope you don't mind losing them."
This ti she understood.
"Do you understand now?"
"…Yes," Cassandra managed. Her mouth felt clumsy, unfamiliar with forming sound. But she had spoken a second word. A first if her life.
He nodded. "Good. Now—your mother is dead. You won't be training to kill anymore. I'm going to find a good family to adopt you once you adjust."
Cassandra said nothing. She heard him—understood him—but the aning slid strangely through her. Her mother gone? No more training? No more orders? She didn't know whether to feel relief, grief, anger, or fear.
As confusion churned inside her, her stomach growled loudly.
He sighed. "Makes sense. Healing burns calories. Co on, I'll make you sothing."
**
Breakfast was a miracle.
Fresh fruit, chocolate-chip pancakes, cold milk. She devoured everything while a yellow sponge and a pink starfish bickered on the television. She had never watched TV. She'd never been allowed to.
'The starfish already ate his chocolate,' she thought, lips twitching upward. 'So silly.'
The young man—Joseph—spoke while she was absorbed in the show.
"I'm heading to a board eting. Just stay here for now. Food's in the fridge."
He locked the door behind him. She didn't mind. This "order" was easy compared to the directives she'd been assigned in the past.
For hours she watched the sponge and the squid and the starfish, enchanted.
Then the lock clicked again.
Cassandra imdiately crouched behind the couch seeing that the figure was unfamiliar.
The intruder was a young woman with red hair and green eyes. Not Joseph.
Enemy.
Cassandra lunged—only to be snatched midair into a crushing, affectionate hug.
"You must be Cassandra! Joseph said I'd be watching you. You're adorable. I'm Koriand'r—call Kori!"
Cassandra struggled uselessly. This woman was absurdly strong. Just like Joseph.
Kori squeezed her cheeks against Cassandra's until Cassandra finally gave up. She could read Kori easily—no malice, only warmth. But the hugging was… excessive.
**
Lunch was pasta. Kori cooked it herself.
Cassandra waited to see Kori take a bite first—poison was always a possibility—then devoured it.
"Do you like it?" Kori asked, wide-eyed.
Cassandra nodded. A bit too salty, but far tastier than the bland, spice-less als on Infinity Island.
Kori hugged her again. "Thanks! I haven't cooked this a lot before. Joseph is a way better cook than ."
Better food than this? Cassandra's eyes widened despite herself.
**
By the ti Joseph returned, Cassandra and Kori were watching a cartoon about a bald boy manipulating the elents.
"How'd the eting go?" Kori asked.
"Good. Though implentation of BellCoin will take a while," Joseph said. "Thanks for watching Cassandra."
"She's a sweetheart," Kori said, imdiately hugging Cassandra again. Cassandra didn't even bother resisting anymore. It was futile.
"Did you get her clothes?" Kori asked.
Joseph blinked. "…Oh. I forgot."
"You can't leave her in those rags."
Cassandra glanced down at her dark League of Shadows training uniform with bandaged joints. What was wrong with them?
"Fine, fine. We'll go shopping."
**
| tropolis Mall - October 5
The mall was overwhelming: lights, people, slls, noise. Cassandra followed closely between Joseph and Kori, taking in everything.
Joseph used sothing called a hologram to disguise her outfit as normal clothes—and to disguise his own face so he wouldn't be recognized. Magic, Cassandra decided. It had to be magic.
Kori dragged Cassandra into a children's clothing store and subjected her to over an hour of outfit-testing. Joseph laughed every ti Cassandra erged in a new outfit, which she swore she would rember and repay soday.
Eventually, Cassandra left wearing a sunny yellow dress while Joseph carried several bags of clothes.
They continued touring the mall. She even tried ice cream—it was wonderful.
Then they returned to her new master's base.
**
"Goodnight, Cassandra," Kori said, hugging her yet again as Cassandra lay tucked under the blankets in soft purple pajamas.
Despite the strangeness of the day, it had been… good. Warm. Fun. The most fun she had ever known. No orders to kill. No punishnts. No blows. Only food, laughter, and softness.
Kori's affection felt unfamiliar but not unwelco.
So Cassandra made herself speak.
"Goodnight."
Kori squealed happily, cheeks flushed with joy. Joseph smiled as if he'd expected it.
Kori eventually left the room. Her ho was in Washington D.C. and not tropolis so she wouldn't be staying here. Joseph lingered a mont longer.
"Good night," he said, turning off the light.
After the door closed, Cassandra faintly heard voices from the living room.
"You'd make a good mom," Joseph said.
"I've always wanted a family," Kori replied. "Are you going to make one soon?"
Joseph sputtered.
Cassandra smiled into her pillow as she drifted to sleep.
Maybe this is what a real family feels like.
User Comments
0 comments from readers