THE WOUNDED

CHAPTER 1- YOU CAN'T GO BACK

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This takes place after One Year Later, it is AU after the Andersen Gabrych run on the Batgirl series.

Italics in this story are Body language; the language Cassandra sees when looking at people, also the names of things.

'This' represents people's thoughts.

Horizontal rulers (lines across the page) are page breaks.

-X- means small time skips.

Warning; contains violence, angst...

This is based in the same universe as my other fic, Cass In Control.

DISCLAIMER; I don't own Batman, or any of the characters or ideas involved. This is non-profit.

He heard screaming, explosions, wailing of sirens, blurs of light, shattering glass.

He saw faces. First terrified, screaming, sobbing. Then twisting into grotesque muscle tearing grins, their faces turning chalk white, their eyes reflecting madness as their brain chemistry was corrupted.

Rising above it all, was his awful laughter...

Rex St Cloud launched up from his nightmares in his home. He looked around in panic. His breathing was heavy, his heart racing as he realised he was safe- he was alone in his bedroom, his family residence (Mansion really, the St Cloud's were Gotham old money, like the Waynes or Cobblepots).

Alone in the dark. He forced himself back down on his king-size bed trying his hardest not to burst out sobbing- the teenager didn't need his parents or the damn servants seeing him emotionally come apart again.

'Same dream again... I'll never get back to sleep now...'

After a glance at his alarm clock, he decided to start his day early; he wiped the fear induced sweat off his face and put on a shirt-long sleeved to hide the cuts and burns across his arms. He left his room passing a tall wall mounted mirror on his way to the stairs; Rex was considered an strangely attractive young man; bright blue eyes, platinum blond (though to him it looked white) hair like his sister Silver, and a handsome, if unremarkable face.

He quietly navigated the stairs, the cooking staff wasn't awake yet and he didn't want to wake them.

Rex entered the huge, empty kitchen. After looking through the food stores for a minute he decided on some simple cereal, he wasn't in the mood to cook anything.

After his light breakfast and a wash with scalding hot water, Rex returned to his room and got dressed. Stepping into his walk-in closet he decided to go for a plain appearance consisting of black pants and a grey button up shirt. He didn't want to give his shrink anything about his appearance to use against him.

-X-

'I don't want to see this again.'

A city, once colourful and alive and thriving, now reduced to blackened, dead buildings. Bodies of a hundred thousand people floated with garbage and wreckage through the streets, now flooded with the poisonous sludge of the gigantic, toxic monstrosity known as Chemo. Within the sludge bodies floated straight up, familiar faces. One, a woman with red hair and glasses turned face up and opened her eyes.

"There's no going back this time, Cassandra."

The face transformed from Brenda Miller to Stephanie Brown, both murdered while they were too young...

Cassandra Cain, the third woman to don the identity of Batgirl, bolted up from her sleep, adopting a combat pose. Her dark coloured eyes scanned for threats only to discover that she was safe- she was alone in her bedroom.

She looked around at the room; quite large, she currently lived in a house in Bristol only a few minutes' walk from Wayne Manor with the recently married Barbara Gordon Grayson and Dick Grayson, the crimefighters known as Oracle and Nightwing respectively.

Her bedroom was decorated by Barbara; mostly white (probably trying to distance her from her Batgirl identity). On the nightstand there was a photo of Cassandra and Barbara together with Bruce Wayne and Commissioner Gordon at Barbara's wedding to Dick Grayson (Cass was a bridesmaid- she hated the blindingly bright, floral patterned outfit). Other photos on the windowsill and the walls included one with Cass as a bridesmaid with an awkward smile as she tried to converse with Tim Drake, another with Cass and Barbara standing alone together (on the day the photographer had taken hundreds of pictures with individuals and groups in a seemingly endless variety of combinations).

There were no other pictures; none of Cass' murderous parents, no baby pictures, no images of her growing up, or with school friends.

'That same dream again...'

She ignored the images, both in her room and her dreams and began the first part of her workout involved a simple (to her) kata comprised of motions from numerous martial arts disciplines.

Both Tim Drake and Barbara had stated that Cassandra was beautiful when moving in this fashion. Many would say she was beautiful when otherwise;

Cassandra was exotic in appearance; standing at a very impressive (and unusual) five foot eleven inches in height, long, strong legs attached to wide hips and a figure that seemed to be a perfect blend of femininity and athleticism, especially now that an encounter with the Lazarus Pit courtesy of her deranged mother had removed the dozens of scars from stab, bullet, cut and burn wounds she had endured over a lifetime of brutality. Her face was exotically beautiful as well; jet black, straight, shoulder length hair, dark eyes, skin and facial structure that merged Caucasian and Asian traits in a uniquely appealing manner.

Not that the born-again vigilante cared about such things.

After five minutes, the first part of her morning workout was finished. Activating a hidden scanner keyed to her DNA, she opened a hidden elevator in the house's living room and proceeded down several storeys to her training room- the house was a Wayne property, with a secret facility beneath it purposed by Batman originally as a satellite Batcave after Gotham City was rebuilt after No Man's Land.

Among the satellite caves amenities was 'The Dummy Room' which featured armies of punching bags and store mannequins, hundreds of them for Cass to pummel.

She spent the first few seconds of training weaving around the mannequins as though shadow boxing. She then lashed out with a kick to a plastic knee that snapped the limb into a freakish twisted angle that would have permanently crippled a human. Another doll fell as Cass mercilessly struck with a palm strike across the face. She mule kicked another mannequin between the legs smirking evilly as she imagined the effect it would have on a flesh and blood male opponent. In fact she didn't have to imagine it; she knew the effect very well.

Now moving in a dance of violence she flattened another dummy with an elbow strike to the face with the force to shatter a jaw. Just like two nights ago; she had seen a thug threaten a woman with a knife and she levelled the unfortunate criminal with a brutal shot to the jaw. An image of the punk in a hospital bed with his jaws wired shut pleased her. Yet another kick- this one to the solar plexus- broke another dummy in two. Another ruthless knee shot sent the umpteenth dummy face first to the floor.

She grabbed the fallen dummies right arm and twisted knowing that the force and torque would tear the rotator cuff clear off the bone. She knew because she had done it and similar assaults to quite a few criminals over the past few months.

-X-

Gotham City- Newtown

It was midday and Rex St Cloud sat in the office of Doctor Chase Meridian, a psychiatrist who he'd been seeing for the past month now. The wallpaper was a mix of white and an appalling shade of pink. The walls were decorated with copies of degrees and pictures of natural beauties such as waterfalls and sunsets, the shrinks oak desk had pictures of a happy looking family on it. Behind the desk, the doctor herself sat, smartly dressed in a beige pantsuit- probably meant to be disarming. The woman looked more like a model than a shrink with movie-star beauty and shimmering blond hair flowing around her shoulders, her green eyes however, were alive with professionalism and intellect. She wore makeup- too much in Rex's view. She had just asked the same question he always asked Rex when he came.

And the heir to billions of dollars gave the same answer he always gave;

"The same." He shrugged.

He hated coming here, he had enough people thinking he was nuts- but this had become Standard operating procedure in Gotham City for victims of costumed superterror attacks.

"Have you been writing a diary like we spoke about last time?" She asked sounded concerned.

"What's the point? No one wants to hear about the problems of a billionaire kid surrounded by people coddling him and thinking he's nuts, and it's not like I'm the only person the Joker freak poisoned and drove crazy." Rex tried to sit still and be as apathetic as possible. He didn't want to be here, and knew this condescending intellectual wasn't helping. But he did know there was something really wrong with him and didn't like people tiptoeing around it.

"People underestimate going through trauma like you did… they think 'you get dosed by chemical, or mind control… superhero gives you dose of antidote, you go home and everything goes back to normal'… they don't understand the violation of your person, the loss of control… it will take time to get back to normal…"

"What's normal?" He growled barely audible.

"Just remember… you're not alone if you choose not to be…"

-X-

Half an hour later...

The meeting finally ended, Rex barely suppressed running out of the therapist's office. His control was slipping; he was sweating, his muscles cramped painfully, his mind wasn't right- even by his current standards. He rushed into a bathroom. He was relieved when he saw no one was around. He rolled up his sleeve, pulled a small cigarette lighter out of his pocket. He lit a flame and dangled the tips of his fingers in the fire. The burning pain in his fingertips relaxed him as he leaned against the tiled wall of the empty restroom.

He flicked the lighter off and looked at the now reddened flesh of his fingertips.

"Oh hell, what is wrong with me?" He asked aloud in a dreamy tone of voice.

-X-

Gotham City, City Docks, Gang Warehouse, Night time

A knife flashed through the air straight at Batgirl's masked eyes. She ducked and thrust her hand up hitting the knife wielding robber with a thumb strike to the throat. The six foot, two hundred thirty pound man dropped the knife, folding over coughing spastically. Cassandra then did something she wouldn't have done before the Bludhaven disaster; she grabbed him by the hair and slammed him face-first through the cracked window of the warehouse's manager's office.

CRASH!

He cried out in pain; the sound a raspy choking noise as pieces of glass dug into his scalp and face. His fellow gang members, a group called the River Rippers, responsible for a variety of crimes including smuggling and dealing narcotics, stared in horror as they realized they were in for a world of hurt even by Gotham standards. They charged Batgirl. In response she grabbed the wounded first gang member, twisted his arm into an unnatural position that likely damaged bone or ligaments and hurled him at his comrades with a modified Judo throw.

The second gang member swung at Cassandra with a pair of Brass knuckles. She caught the attacker by the wrist, dug in her thumb at a crucial pressure point causing the thug to gasp with such agony that the six foot male nearly dropped to his knees. Casually, Batgirl twisted her arm and broke her opponent's wrist.

"GRAAAHHHH! OH GOD! OH GOD!" Cassandra let him go and watched as he rolled around the warehouse clutching his broken limb.

"Hey man, what the hell is wrong with you!? You Bats take people down with minimal force- you know, gentle like?" The gang leader, a two time felon named Leroy Brown shouted.

"Oh, but I am being gentle..."

This was the first time Leroy had heard Batgirl speak and the voice scared the hell out of him.

"Want to see me get rough?"

Leroy ran like hell.

He didn't get very far, Batgirl flying kicked the fleeing man in the back, he hit the ground rubbing his already worn features down with gravel hard, but conscious.

She flipped him over with her foot so the terrified gang member could see her towering over him. She pressed him down with her foot on his chest. Leroy unwisely grabbed at her leg to push her off.

"Here's rough." Batgirl said. She bent over, grabbed a hold of Leroy's arm at the wrist and elbow and twisted hard, breaking a bone in the forearm, tearing ligaments in the elbow and pulling the whole limb into a grotesquely unnatural angle.

Leroy Brown's screams echoed through the warehouse.

Batgirl watched as the broken agonised man spasm in agony beneath her. She saw movement in the corner of her eye and readied a Batarang to deal with it. A mouse came scurrying through, past a broken mirror. She saw herself in it, powerful, terrifying, heartless, just like...

'No I'm not Cain! I'm not Shiva! I'm... I'm...' She looked down, as though seeing the now sobbing, begging man for the first time.

'What have I done?' She backed away from Leroy. Then ran away as fast as she could. When she was a block away from the warehouse she collapsed to her knees and pulled her mask off, sucking in great gasps of air as she sobbed sickened by what she had done.

'I enjoyed hurting them... just like Shiva... just like... oh God what is wrong with me?'

Today was the one year anniversary of Bludhaven's destruction. One year since Brenda Miller and Zero's deaths- amongst one hundred thousand others- brutally killed and forgotten.

Cassandra Cain curled into a ball on the rooftop crying.

END PART 1

AUTHORS NOTES

Part of the reason Cass is so violent is because she considers Batman's minimal force method ineffectual and is questioning the point of doing what she is doing, as well as the purpose of her life. This is something I intend to go into more depth with in future chapters.

The destruction of Bludhaven seems to be something that was glossed over in the DCU- here it has many consequences, such as making Cassandra angry and violent.

What does anyone think about the title? I'm not good with titles and may change it to something else.