{{I hope you can all forgive me for how uneven The Odmience chapters have turned out. As I hope is soon evident, I did put a lot of work into them, but I will admit the pacing is kind of weird in places and stuff like that. I'm itching to get back to Cassie, so I'm rolling it all to its conclusion with this one, very long chapter.

Life at home has only gotten worse. But time stops for no man.}}

"I'm getting old, Dick. I used to fight with the Joker and sabotage the KGBeast and take all of Azrael's aggressive crap." Tim stirred a cold cup of coffee with a straw and a gyrating pinky. "Tell Barbara she needs to come back to Gotham, I can't handle being the IT guy much longer." He was garbed in his uniform, save for gloves, cape and mask.

In front of Tim was one of his bunker's many large monitors, an oversized Dick Grayson sat in the center. To Tim's right sat a set of black and golden armor taken from the Reaper Melody. Wires and plugs extended out from anywhere in the suit one would fit. Tim and Stephanie had requested the suit for examination from the Gotham authorities and spent many nights along with various allies researching its inner-workings.

"Babs is busy with the Birds' newest recruits," the digital Dick said. "You're probably going to talk to her sooner than I do."

Dick had been the most useful of Tim's contacts, though that had more to do with Dick's own connections than anything else. Victor Stone and he had tirelessly combed over any schematics Tim sent them and at least a few details had become clear. The tech within the suits bore an uncanny resemblance to suits of armor utilized by H.I.V.E. How it got into the hands of a bunch of random college students was unclear, but Dick and Victor spoke at length about the lengths H.I.V.E. had gone to in the past for new recruits. A lot of the rest of the internal information was damaged or corrupted by outside influences. The Harmony suit and possibly the rest were outfitted with electrical nodes all throughout, whose sole purpose appeared to be to shock the wearer. Most disturbing of all, however, was a small chamber at the base of the costume's neck that housed a tiny syringe of poison. So far as the three were able to discern, nothing in the suit could trigger the syringe or the electrical nodes, as if they had been disabled.

"I need an intern," Tim said. "Maybe some kid flunking out of one of my classes or something.

"Don't start wishing too hard," Dick said. "Being an orphan is practically a prerequisite."

"That trend's been dying out for years," Tim said. "I wasn't when I got hired on. Barbara isn't, Cassie and Steph aren't, if Damian was this would all be very confusing—"

"You mentioned Cassandra," Dick said. "Is her leg doing any better?"

"Sounds like it," Tim said. "She still isn't really supposed to put any weight on it, but she'll be out of that boot before too much longer. I've gone to visit her a few times, seems like she's listening to that radio all day."

"Which station?"

"Which one do you think? The one with the ranting religious guy on it."

Dick frowned. "Do you think that's such a good idea? Some cheesy Christian rock would be one thing, but that—Tim?"

Between Dick's words, a cringe had slowly crossed Tim's face. "Do you hear that?"

Dick sat quietly for a moment before he twitched a little. "I think I do."

The noise was a high pitch squeal slowly building to a screech. Tim covered his ears and glared at the Harmony suit. "Something in the suit just turned on."

"Well turn it off!" Dick had to shout over his own covered ears.

Tim clicked off of the video call and tried to open the suit's decompile tool. In spite of repeated hits on the mouse, nothing happened. "I can't shut it off!"

"Then get the hell out of there!" Dick grit his teeth. "You saw the specs on that thing, high enough pitches can cause brain damage!"

"I gotta lock up the bunker first, Bruce nearly killed me after I let them in—"

"No, you have to move! You're no use to anyone dead!"

The computer monitor showed its first crack. A drop of blood dripped down Tim's nose. No matter how he clicked to open his safety protocols, the application would not open. As he struggled with himself, Tim forced himself out of the chair and ran for the elevator. Red Robin slapped a hand on the identification keypad before he pulled his gloves and mask back on and the ascent began.

When the elevator came to a stop inside the empty warehouse near Gotham University Bruce had bought years before, Red Robin breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The ring was fading from his ears, but he'd have to find a way to disable Harmony's armor externally before the bunker would be usable again. He sighed in frustration as he ran over the better solutions he could have utilized in his head. He could have just retreated to a side chamber or something, he knew from experience Harmony's sonic waves couldn't penetrate the surveillance room. There would be consequences to face later.

Red Robin took a step toward the elevator's exit when the darkness itself seemed to kick him in the gut and force him back against the wall. The hero gasped for a breath as he looked up. The black took the shape of a young man shorter than him and stepped into the shaft. He was face-to-face with a conscious Odmience for the first time.

"Not much use having a secret hide out if it's so easy to penetrate," the darkness behind the boy said.

Red Robin went to draw his staff, but concluded the car was too tight a space to try using it. The Odmience threw a punch, that one he could block. The exchanged blows as Lipov appeared out from the warehouse and stepped into the light of the elevator.

"You're the ones who triggered the suit!" Red Robin moved back and forth to dodge out the Odmience's strikes. "Why?"

"New recruits." Lipov leaned over and examined the elevator's setup. "Handprint, boy."

The Odmience caught one of Red Robin's punches and ripped off his glove. The hero planted another right between his eyes and the Odmience was slowed for a moment before he pressed Red Robin's hand against the identifying switch. The elevator began to descend.

Lipov leaned back against the wall as if to allow the two room to fight. Both warriors were technical, each strike was a direct response to a new opening. Any punch Red Robin scored against the Odmience seemed to shake him internally, but the strikes from the Odmience were swiftly more debilitating. Even when a hook rattled the small assassin, he responded by grabbing and twisting Red Robin's arm until he shouted in pain.

The elevator stopped and the horrific shriek slipped through its open door. Even Lipov shook a bit as he raised a small device and silenced the suit with a click.

"We'll need a way back out." Lipov stepped toward the giant, cracked monitor. Dick must have already departed. "Better take that hand as a souvenir."

The Odmience loosened his grip to draw his sword. Red Robin regained enough control to draw his staff and clash with the assassin.

"My sister saved your life." Red Robin spoke through grit teeth. "And you're still in on all this?"

"His life is his mission." Lipov lifted the suit of armor. "His life is extinguishing every bit of Cain left in this world."

Red Robin broke from the clash and took a swing at the Odmience's face, but the attack was deflected by his sword. Between strikes of the two metals, Lipov approached and Red Robin tried to strike him. The older man outmaneuvered two trikes before the Odmience cut into Red Robin's side. As he shouted with pain, Lipov forced him back into the elevator and pressed his hand against the panel.

With one hand still clutching the fresh, bloody wound, it was all Red Robin could manage to force himself to the other side of the elevator as the door closed and the two assassins vanished with the suit of armor. As Tim hobbled to one of the side-chambers for a first aid kit, he swore at himself for not pursuing them.

As he reached the room, a buzz vibrated from his belt. Tim clenched, dreaded the worst and answered his communicator.

"Nighwing just called," Batman said. "Is everything all right?"

"… No." Tim fought the pain just to continue. "We just had another break in." The admission hurt as bad as the cut.

[[[...]]]

It wasn't more than four days after Sister Katya had encountered the strange, mute child in the basement of Saint Raphael's that she was summoned to Saint Raphael's Home for Children. She came at the request of Sister Therese, an aging nun who served as Mother Superior. When she arrived, Katya was instructed to report to Therese's quarters, where the elder sister sat alongside a bloody, bruised child.

"Rafal?" As Sister Katya approached the child, he fought tears behind a black eye, leaned in, put his bloodied hands tight around her and sobbed. Sister Katya turned to the Mother Superior. "What happened?"

"It's the other children who should really answer." Sister Therese shook her head. "That isn't his own blood drying on his hands."

Sister Katya was confused for a moment before she looked down at the boy and back to Therese. "What do you mean?"

"You should sit, Katya," Sister Therese said. "I can tell you a lot. You have brought us a very aggressive young man."

Sister Katya sat down across from Therese, Rafal emulated her. "Aggressive? He has only ever seemed frightened."

"He does not play with the other children. At all," Sister Therese said. "The first day he was introduced to the others, a girl a head smaller than him kicked a football toward him and tried to get him to participate. When he didn't respond and she accidentally knocked the ball into his shin, he punched her hard enough to bloody her nose."

Sister Katya was aghast as she looked toward the boy. "Rafal, why would you—"

"We punished him by prohibiting him from going out with the rest, but matters have escalated. The girl's older brother approached him at dinner the next night. Admittedly he started the fight, but he was the one who would probably have a broken arm if we hadn't intervened. Even the other sisters have scratches and bruises to show for pulling him off."

Sister Katya began to tremble as the Mother Superior went on. The boy never stopped looking toward her, as if he expected some defense.

"We've tried keeping him in the small room for our most aggressive cases, but nothing seems to work. That's Sister Josephine's blood on his hands for when she tried to discipline him for not getting out of bed."

A hand was over Sister Katya's mouth as she shook her head and fought tears. "Therese, I'm so sorry—"

"I talked to Father Nils. He said that the boy seemed very attached to you." Sister Therese sighed. "Katya, I hate to pull you from your other duties and I'm sure this sounds rather frightening, but we wanted to know if you could help out. Just for a little while. Just to stabilize him."

Sister Katya almost wanted to refuse. The Mother Superior had painted a very bleak picture of the child she had led there. If he was so internally violent, could she know he wouldn't snap at her to?

But as she contemplated, Rafal leaned against her, still sniffling and tried desperately to regain his composure. Even as his hand touched her skin, some of the tension vanished from his body. Sister Katya looked to the boy, and his face she saw nothing but pain. In her heart, she could feel nothing but the desire to take it away.

"Whatever I can do."

[[[...]]]

The permanent foreclosure that followed the shutdown of the Gotham University bunker left Gotham's forces underprepared for the next week. Two nights after the theft of the Harmony armor, a government base eighteen miles to the northwest of Gotham reported a devastating attack. A young woman garbed in a uniform of black and gold had temporarily dispatched the base's guards with a series of destructive sonic blasts. An unidentified figure in a white electrician's van smashed through the base's fence and followed her in.

In both a series of garages and a central space were stored physical tons of weaponry confiscated from Gotham's criminal population. Some within the government and military argued a gigantic cache of such weaponry was a complete liability, but the cost of constant transport for all the contraband was deemed too overwhelming otherwise. Countless trick umbrellas, exploding chattering teeth and ice-based weaponry were disassembled in the underground beneath the central hub. Most of the confiscated weaponry wasn't anything more advanced than guns or bombs hidden within innocuous objects, but as new technologies sometimes cropped up in Gotham, everything was meticulously deconstructed. The research team within had only just scratched the surface of the four suits of Reaper armor when they were stolen back.

Batman and Robin were still at the government sight looking for evidence the next night when reports of a brief but destructive scrimmage at the Gotham jailhouse came in. Eight figures in identical silver, metallic suits ran through the facilities and dared any of the on-sight staff to come stop them. The noise and confusion overwhelmed the police and physicians for an hour. By the time the caped crusaders had arrived, all of the intruders had disappeared and two jail cells had been broken into. The news of a disappearance in the criminal and displaced wing of Gotham Hospital never even reached the two.

Even were gathered in the dark, noisy hideout Lipov had utilized since his arrival. The Reaper's previous place of business, though still unknown to Batman and the police, would surely be discovered in a short matter of time. That was Lipov's reasoning. His base of operations was small, but fulfilled what functions it had to. In the makeshift meeting room were a few sporadically placed chairs and a desk that Richie was seated at.

The aging assassin leaned against the wall in the center of their gathering place, the Odmience at his side as always. For the first time he could look upon his five new recruits in all their glory. He muttered their names under his breath as he was still getting used to them.

"Xane." The boy with the black suit that enabled extreme speed. Went by Slipstream. "Tracey." The girl in black and gold who produced soundwaves. Identified herself as Melody. "Richie." The one with the broken lower half whose silver, multiplying suit was his only chance at walking again. He'd been on his computer nearly since they'd broken him out of the hospital and pounding out new codes for the suits. Apparently, he was the one who kept the armor's original designers from catching up with them. Codename Figment. "Miles." The big one with the green power-suit who shouted too much. Answered to Jabberwocky. "Jill." The girl in the neon pink suit who could form and manipulate hard light. Strangely called herself Miranda, which was also her middle name.

Lipov pushed off of the wall and clapped his hands to call for their attention. The Reapers quickly stopped talking among themselves and looked to him. "I'm sure you're all very curious as to why I've freed you."

"I was the first one you sprung, and even I'm not sure," Jill said. As she moved to the opposite wall, the three who could still walk followed her. Richie only watched.

Lipov smirked. "My name is Victor Lipov, and I have brought you together for a rare opportunity. I have the power to erase those terrible mistakes you all have made from your records. I can make your sentences and debts to society all vanish. I just need something back from all of you."

"All right, creepshow," Miles said. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I have an old family dispute with an associate of the Batman," Lipov said. "Not even the Bat himself. Just the girl who calls herself Angel."

"So what, you want us to kill her next time we're out?" Xane tilted his head. "Five on one shouldn't be much—"

"No." Lipov scowled and his tone strengthened. "You are not to kill her. That privilege—" He placed a hand on the Odmience's shoulder. "Belongs to him."

"What then?" Miles said. "Drag her here so he can take her out? Loosen her up? Get to the point."

"I want to break her," Lipov said. "I want to see her shatter into a million pieces. I want her death to be a merciful release from the hell I make her life. But even my Odmience and I can't do it by ourselves. We have brought you here to bolster our forces and ensure that when the moment comes, it will be perfect." As Lipov paused, the five exchanged hesitant and confused looks, save for Miles, who just appeared to be annoyed. "And on top of your clean records, you can take your revenge on the Batgirl. Give me my prize, and I'll give you yours."

The looks across the Reapers turned to contemplative smiles and nods of approval. Still save for Miles, who looked more annoyed than before. "I think I see a major problem in your idea, old man."

"Oh?" Lipov raised an eyebrow. "Please enlighten me."

"We don't need you to kill the Batgirl. You're not wearing a suit of armor. And you can't tell me what to do!"

The bullheaded Miles ran toward Lipov. Jill, Tracey and Xane both shouted he was being an idiot. Richie just looked away. Lipov produced a small, black device from the pocket of his coat and pressed one of the switches.

The sound of surging electricity and Miles' scream of pain overtook the gathering space. The green giant fell to his knees as his body twitched and screamed swears to the ceiling.

"I'm very glad our Jabberwocky friend decided to test my limits," Lipov said. "And just what those suits are capable of."

"Richie!" Miles spoke through grinding teeth. "You said you disabled the shockers!"

Lipov stepped over to Richie and patted the computer he worked on. "He did. But at my request, he turned them back on."

As Miles fought the pain and regained his footing, Lipov pressed the switch and shocked him again. Once more the towering warrior hit the ground.

"You bastard!" Xane disappeared into a blur of black. "He didn't even do anything else!"

Lipov again hit the switch. Xane imitated Miles' screech and fell to his knees inches from Lipov and Richie.

"I think it's a lesson you should all learn now. Odmience."

The young assassin took his place at Lipov's side, raised a leg, kicked the still shaking Xane in the face and onto his back.

Richie still didn't look up. "I'm so sorry… you don't understand. I'd never be able to walk again if I didn't help him. He said—"

The Odmience grabbed the back of Richie's chair and threw it to the side. The young man shouted in pain as his crippled body collided with the ground. Jill and Tracey shouted, "Stop it!" and "That's enough!" It was all the defiance Lipov needed to turn the mechanism against all five of them at once.

From the chamber came a chorus of agony. All five shouted in pain, those still on their feet fell to their knees as volts of electricity tore against them. As they howled in pain, Lipov nodded in satisfaction and slowly dialed back the power.

"The five of you work for me now. If you serve me well, I'll give you everything you could possibly want. If you think you can run, you should pray the police apprehend you before I do. If you defy me, you will feel the volts designed to keep you in line." He held his thumb just over a button at the bottom of the mechanism. "If you fail me, the plungers full of toxin at the napes of your necks will flow into your bloodstreams."

"Richie!" Jill shouted. "You said you tore those out!"

"They're connected to the power cores." He was nearly on the verge of tears. "I tried to. I disabled them, I thought that'd be good enough!"

"You're going to help me enact my revenge. And I will do the same for you." Lipov pushed a last switch and killed the flow of electricity. All five gasped for breath and struggled to rise from the ground. "And, on that subject, I have selected your first assignment. There is one more person I need to speak to. You're going to help me into Arkham Asylum."

[[[...]]]

A month of Sister Katya's shifts assisting in the home for children showed uneven progress for Rafal. Sister Katya had never been very involved in the orphanage before, but the Mother Superior insisted her one greatest duty was to look over the boy she had brought them.

At the meals and activities Sister Katya supervised for, Rafal was totally docile. He never played with the other children and thanks to his reputation, none of them approached him. But he could occupy himself with sloppy crayon drawings or watching footballs as he rolled them back and forth against the wall or fences outside. Sometimes Sister Katya would sit on the pavement and roll the ball back and forth with in or bring him in an hour before dinnertime to help cut vegetables. There was still paranoia in every one of his movements, but it seemed to fade while she was around.

If Sister Katya did not come, the old habits resumed. When a child rarely came to close to him, he barred his teeth like a rabid animal. If the nuns tried to make him sleep or rise when he didn't want to, he scratched and bit them. Again and again Sister Katya returned to hear news that the frightened boy she brought to the home had disappeared and a small monster took his place. She cried over what they told her. And whenever she sobbed, Rafal did likewise, even if he couldn't understand why.

One day, Sister Katya had brought him back to the church where she had found him and Rafal was instructed to wait in the pews. She had to speak with Father Nils and would not be long.

The boy initially sat as he was told, but between the silence in the Saint Raphael's and the discomfort of the wooden benches, he became restless. He wanted to be with Katya again. After twenty minutes, he slowly approached the priest's office, silent as breeze thanks to his years of instruction. Soon, he could hear them, and judging by the ups and downs of her pitch, he knew Sister Katya was crying.

"I just don't know what to do, Father," she said. "I have prayed for him every day since we found him, I believe he can be shown the way. But he only responds to anything when I am there."

"I know, Katya, I know," Father Nils said. "We still don't know what to make of it. And if Officer Zurowski is to be believed—"

"What if that man is his father?" Sister Katya said. "What if he's the same one who put all those scars on his body? What if he is just going to hurt him again?"

Rafal's heart raced. He had no way to know for sure, but Lipov may have been catching up with him.

"The police didn't disclose any information, they're looking deeper into him and his history," Father Nils said. "The boy will be safe from him until the authorities deem he is nothing to fear."

Sister Katya paused to blow her nose. "It's times like these, Father… I wonder if I understood the Lord's plan for me."

Rafal leaned a little closer to the door and attempted to peek through the place door met frame. He still couldn't see anything. "I'm sure it is difficult, Katya. We've never seen anything like this—"

"What if I wasn't meant for this life?" Sister Katya gasped for fresh breath. "What if there is another way I could do his will?"

"Sister, please." Father Nil's voice was still calm, but a firmness followed. "You sacrificed for the Lord. It is a bold and noble calling, and you know what it entails."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Katya—"

"The truth, Father. Please tell me."

The old priest breathed a heavy sigh. "… Sometimes. Sometimes when I unite newlyweds. Sometimes when I baptize the children. Sometimes just when I see the congregation… I wonder why I shouldn't have what they have." When he paused, Sister Katya's cries had settled, if only a little. "But that was the sacrifice we made. This is the life the Lord chose for us and we agreed it was for the best. It is not a sin to want these things, but we cannot break our vows to God."

As Sister Katya began to sob again, Rafal opened the door with a tiny creek. She and Father Nils turned to him in surprise. The nun tried to tend to her eyes. "Rafal? I told you to wait—"

The boy stepped up to the chair she sat in, leaned against her and joined her in commiseration.

[[[...]]]

The Reapers were swift in executing Lipov's orders the night that followed. Despite complaints of tiredness and still being fresh from jail, Lipov crushed any defiance with blasts from the armors' insides. He had to keep moving quickly. His final target had the potential to be the most difficult, but that was what made his five new allies so important. Harmony's waves overwhelmed the sound systems. Slipstream rushed in and put out the cameras. A small army of Figments distracted the guards on duty while Jabberwocky knocked them unconscious. Miranda pressed hard light into keyholes to mold makeshift keys. Lipov and the Odmience moved deep into Arkham's lower levels in search of one particular inmate in extreme isolation.

"Not to question the plan, boss, but what exactly are you planning once you see this guy?" Miranda hesitated over one of the final locks. "You've seen what he did. I don't think you two are going to get along at all. He doesn't seem—"

"Easy, girl," Lipov said. "I'm not recruiting him. I only want to know if he has anything useful to say.

The door swung open. Even through her helmet, Miranda's face showed doubts. "What cell do you want again?"

"DL80. Should be on the left."

Miranda proceeded ahead of Lipov and the Odmience, found the door and went to work at the lock. "I'm not going in there. I'm agnostic, I don't wanna know what that guy would do to me if I had the chance."

"I don't care where you wait," Lipov said. "Just open the door and be ready to put a wall between us and him if you have to."

It only took two minutes. The door swung open, Miranda stepped aside. Lipov and the Odmience stepped through.

Beyond the entry was a plain, white, sterile room. The only objects that interrupted the overwhelming pale were a bed, a sink, a toilet and the convicted man that sat in the corner. The Odmience double took when he saw him, he was a giant if the boy had ever seen one. His bare arms were covered in black tattoos and his bare, downward-bent head was rough and uneven with scars and burns. He was perhaps the first person the Odmience had seen whose marks could compare with his own. The giant raised his head after a few seconds of the two standing opposite him. His face looked much the same, save for whatever had hacked off the front of his nose.

His tone was frustrated above all else. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Daniel Lebowitz then?" Lipov smiled. "Or do you still prefer your other name?"

The giant glared at him. "Lebowitz is fine."

"All right then. I want just the same thing you do."

Lebowitz lowered his head. "I want you to get out."

"I want to give you something much better," Lipov said. "A chance at vengeance."

The man opposite the assassins still did not look at them again, but his voice grew forceful. "See that none repay wrong for wrong. Strive always to do what is good for each other and everyone else. Thessalonians."

"What about eyes for eyes? Or teeth for teeth?"

"Babylonian. Man's law. Not God's."

The Odmience looked to Lipov, whose amiable smirk had faded. "I'm talking about killing the Angel."

"I know full and well what you're talking about. Get out."

Lipov took a step forward. The giant raised his head again and pushed to his feet. The Odmience wasn't sure of his exact height, but he towered over both of them. Lipov took back half of his step and cringed. "I read all about what she did to you—"

"That she kept more blood from staining my hands? That she kept me from being an even greater waste of life?" The giant clenched his fists. "Perhaps you also read they still haven't found a way to end my life. Did you honestly intend to threaten me if I didn't comply?"

Lipov scanned him up and down. "Tell me you don't want to kill her."

Lebowitz spoke without any emotion. "The fool who ran around calling himself the Seraphim wanted to kill her. That demon has been exorcised."

Lipov looked back and forth between Lebowitz and the Odmience. He had come confident that anyone Cain's daughter could have overcome, his creation could do even better. But with a good look at the giant, he decided it better to avoid confrontation if he wasn't going to initiate it.

Lipov set a hand on the Odmience's shoulder and pushed him toward the door. "Come, boy. Seems this was a waste of time." He had come with a backup plan, at least the night wouldn't be a total loss.

"You want my advice for facing the Angel of the Bat?" Lebowitz said. "Don't. Don't engage her. Don't make yourself her enemy. If my defeat proved anything, it is that she is the Lord's chosen warrior. You will never stop her."

Lipov turned only half his face toward Lebowitz and pushed the Odmience toward the door. "In 1974, when I was ten years old, my family were made political undesirables by Leonid Brezhnev. My father was a deacon in our town's church—it was a fifty kilometers beyond Yelets, but its name and existence have been redacted from Russia's history. My father and the priest were good, obedient members of the Orthodoxy. They disavowed the will of the communists and their work to cleanse Russia from God's influence. As the KGB began to infiltrate every level of society, my father, mother, sister and I were all taken hostage. Brezhnev was not like Stalin, he did not kill us. He only left us to die in his prison camps." Lipov turned away again. "My father's holiness did not preserve his life, and hers' will not be my downfall."

"Your father died a righteous man, from what you've described to me. When you die, you will burn."

"We'll see, now won't we?" Lipov stepped back into the hallway with the Odmience and Miranda. "Waste."

"Was that true what you told him?" Miranda's voice was uneasy. "About your family?"

Lipov glared at her. "What do you think?" Before Miranda could respond, he resumed. "Call Figment. Crack a few of these cells open. The Bat and his ilk could use a few more distractions."

[[[...]]]

A week passed in Saint Raphael's Home for Children after Sister Katya's conversation with Father Nils. Though Rafal's position there was still in question, the week passed largely without incident. Sister Katya remained near the boy whenever she could. The two set at a table in the common area one afternoon as the boy held a pencil in his shaky hand for the first time.

"Just like this now," Sister Katya said. Slowly in pen, she moved across the page and spelled out a single word. "Now you try."

Rafal examined her work like it was a puzzle he had to piece together with his eyes. The pencil didn't feel right, no matter how he gripped it. He couldn't imitate her strokes, so he tried to just emulate the image. Despite his trepidation, his first attempt was not ugly.

"Do you know what this is?" Sister Katya set a finger on the word.

The boy shook his head.

Sister Katya tapped the word and then the boy's sternum. "That is you."

He raised a finger toward himself.

"Yes. That is Rafal. That is you."

The boy looked down at the two copies of the word. Tears and a smile both overtook him as he pressed his pencil to the page and wrote it again. Sloppier that time, but still discernable as a copy. Then it wrote it again. And again. Sister Katya had never seen anyone so pleased with a name before, but she would do anything to see that satisfaction on his face. She told him to keep it, it was something he should be proud of.

At the end of that day, Rafal snuck a pair of scissors off one of the crafting tables while Sister Katya wasn't looking. In the moonlight that illuminated from his window, he pressed the sheet of paper against his arm and raised the scissors.

It was his name. It would always be his name.

Sister Katya was never far from those days on. Every day they practiced with the letters he could barely comprehend and she was there to tell him good night in the evenings. It was happiness.

"Excuse me, Sister Katya? Rafal?"

The two turned from their lesson one morning. The Mother Superior had come from behind them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but a man from the government is here. He says he needs to talk to the boy."

Sister Katya's eyes widened. "Officer Zurowsky?"

"No," Sister Therese said. "Said he was off duty today. He only requested the boy, but I know he relies on you to communicate."

Sister Katya folded the paper the two had worked on and rose. The boy followed after her. One room at the front of the home had been converted into a small office. Sister Therese opened the door and gestured the two inside. A dark-haired man with glasses, an unkempt beard and a suit jacket sat at a small table and jotted notes on a pad identical to Zurowsky's.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Officer Adamiak. Officer Zurowsky sends his apologies. We usually like the keep the same officers on the same cases, but something came up."

"It's all right," Sister Katya said.

As Rafal stepped in and examined the officer, something overtook him. A hesitation ran through his body. Something was off.

Officer Adamiak took a deep breath as he looked down at his notes, up at the boy and toward Sister Katya. "I'm going to be straight with you, ma'am. I'm here because the Department of State has misgivings about this child's continued presence in your care."

"What?" Sister Katya's response was as much a gasp as it was a word.

Rafal turned from the Officer to her for a moment to look at the shocked nun.

"I'm sorry to be delivering this news like this, Miss… Mary?" Adamiak looked down at his notes and back up at her. "Is it Mary?"

"I know he's been difficult, but we've been doing our best with him," Sister Katya said.

"I'm not here to point any fingers," Adamiak said. "I'm sure you've tried your very hardest. But Miss Mary, please look at the boy." Adamiak opened a hand and motioned at Rafal. "I've read all about him in Zurowsky's inspections. He's always getting into fights. He doesn't interact with the other children. There are other homes for cases like this, Mary. Other places designed to handle children like him."

Rafal leaned close to the nun and wrapped his arm tight around one of her arms. Tears welled in his eyes. He didn't understand everything, but he understood enough.

Was that all the reason Rafal had to hate the officer? That he knew he might take him away?

Sister Katya wiped the tears from her eyes. "You mean what you say, don't you? I heard they found his father—"

"Blonde man, three scars across his face." Adamiak scratched his beard. "He doesn't know where he is and we're keeping him far away." The officer reached forward and set one hand on top of Sister Katya's. Somehow, even it unsettled Rafal. "I'm sure you're upset. But we all just want to see him get the help he needs. As soon as possible."

"I just wish I'd known," Sister Katya said.

"Standard protocol, ma'am. Keeps people from trying to run off." He eyed her carefully. "Just a precaution of course. I'm sure we had nothing to fear here."

Sister Katya led Rafal up to his small, isolated room. The boy stood, teary eyed, in the doorway as she gathered his small assortment of black clothes together and stuffed them into a laundry sack. As she approached him, he grabbed ahold of her wrist and squeezed.

"I know Rafal." Sister Katya's voice was unstable. "I know you want to stay here with me. But they have another place for you." She knelt down and laid a hand on the boy's cheek. "They'll take good care of you there."

He pulled at her wrist.

"I can't go with you any further." Sister Katya pulled him in for a hug. For a moment, the two sobbed in silence. "I'm so sorry I couldn't have done more."

Rafal's body loosened, as if he had accepted what she told him.

Sister Katya set the laundry bag in his hand and led him down to the parking space outside the home. Adamiak stood by a black sedan, the backseat open to let the boy in. It was a windy day, his messy beard swayed a little.

As Sister Katya led him to the car, she looked at the officer. "He will be taken care of? He will receive the best care for the conditions he is suffering from?"

"I promise," Adamiak said. He looked down at Rafal. "Come on then, son."

Rafal looked up at the man, but did not move.

"It's time to go." Sister Katya attempted to pull her hand away, but he did not release it. "Rafal?"

"Something troubling you?" Adamiak asked. "Please, climb in."

Rafal's eye twitched involuntarily.

"Just do what he says," Sister Katya said. "He knows what's best."

"Yes." Adamiak lowered his face to look Rafal in the eyes. "I know what's best."

The boy didn't know what happened. He acted on instinct. With his free hand, he grabbed Adamiak's beard and yanked. The officer shouted as hairs tore from his face, fixed in place not by pours, but some kind of adhesive. From the yank, the ends of three scars were visible. Rafal's eyes widened.

"Goodness!" Sister Katya raised her hands over her mouth. "What's come over— My God, what are those?"

With his disguise undone, Lipov reached into his suit jacket. As Rafak attempted to strike him, Lipov reverse the attack and forced a damp cloth over his mouth. The boy fought and pushed against him, but the chloroform did its job swiftly. As Lipov thrust his body into the sedan, Rafal saw him pull something else from his jacket. All that was clear afterward was Sister Katya's scream.

For hours, Rafal returned to conscience in tiny bursts. He noted being moved from one car to another. He heard Lipov mutter under his breath. Once, he heard Sister Katya groan in pain. The rest was darkness.

"Up! Get up you worm!"

Rafal awoke as the back of his head hit pavement. Besides the shimmer of stars before his eyes, he had come from darkness into darkness.

A boot smashed against his head. The boy fell backwards, blood trickled down his nose, as Lipov stepped into view.

"You had to make it so hard on yourself," Lipov said. "You wouldn't be here if not for your disobedience!"
Rafal pushed to his feet. Everything was still hazy, but Lipov was visible enough he could throw a punch. But even as he tried, the chloroform kept him uncoordinated and weakened. Lipov caught the punch and backhanded him.

"You want to fight me?!" Lipov shouted. "I created you!" Another backhand. "I made you what you are!" A punch in the boy's gut. "You can't fight me!" The smash of metal against Rafal's head.

The boy looked up as blood oozed through his short hair. In Lipov's hand was a pistol pointed at him.

Rafal, if only for a short time, had tasted freedom from the madman. He would not be Lipov's slave again. Resigned to his fate, the boy raised his bloodied face and pressed his temple against the barrel. He shut his eyes, sniffled and waited.

Lipov was silenced for a moment before he lowered the gun. "Bold move, boy. But you're not allowed to die yet." He stepped away. Rafal opened his eyes slowly to see Lipov return to the car, pop the trunk and yank something out. Rafal considered running again, but knew his legs were too weak to carry him anywhere.

Lipov grabbed ahold of Rafal by his hair and yanked him toward the trunk. When they arrived, the boy nearly vomited. Sister Katya laid with her head inverted in the trunk of the car, her eyes glazed over and mouth wide open. Each breath was labored, even the movement of her chest seemed painful. Rafal fell to his knees as the bitter tears flowed anew.

"She doesn't even know where she is," Lipov said. "She can't sense anything anymore. Not until the drugs wear off. You did this to her."

Rafal turned and threw another punch. Lipov caught his fist but did not retaliate save for staring him in his wet eyes.

"You did this. You brought her all this pain. And now you're going to make it right."

Lipov forced the pistol into the boy's hands and pushed the weapon forward. As Rafal choked to even inhale, he shook his head.

"If you don't do it, I will." Lipov spoke softly. "I will not be quick. I will not be gentle. I know how to hurt her over and over again."

Rafal struggled to redirect the gun, but Lipov's grip on him was too strong. The elder assassin pointed the weapon at the nun's head.

"End her pain, boy," Lipov said. "Before I escalate it. Release her."

Rafal shook his head with all his strength.

"I said do it!"

His eyes were shut tight. The tears would not stop flowing. Lipov forced one of them open, and just beyond the saltwater, Rafal saw her draw an agonizing breath.

"Uwolnij ją!"

He pulled the trigger. Sister Katya disappeared in a spray of red and iron. He fell to his knees, but the tears stopped flowing. He couldn't feel anything anymore.

The boy was gone from his cradle. And a demon had put an odmience in his place.

[[[...]]]

"Authorities have confirmed the escape the criminals under the names Mad Hatter, Victor Zsasz and Poison Ivy from Arkham Asylum after a break in two nights ago. The safety of our city is, as always, in our prayers. Protect yourself, people of Gotham, not only from these people who would do you harm but the vices they surcame to. One of these three was a grown man obsessed with fantasy stories, another was a compulsive gambler before killing overtook him and the third is known not only for her mania in environmental terrorism, but as a wildly depraved lesbian alongside the Joker's associate Harley Quinn." Cameron Gram paused only a minute for breath. "My prayers go out to all of you in Gotham trying to stay on the straight and narrow, to all of you battling your own demons. We will overcome together."

At long last, Cassandra was out of bed and completely balanced again. The weeks of rehab and rest had finally healed her leg. She would be back on the streets soon enough.

But even beyond that healing, her soul felt refreshed as well. The chance to listen to Cameron Gram nearly every day had given her exactly what she needed.

The criminals of Gotham had made their choices, it was time they knew retribution. Lipov and the Odmience had made themselves her enemies, she would treat them in kind. The sadness of the day on the playground with that girl had been washed away. Pain and loss had been her punishment and her teacher.

Cassandra faced herself in the mirror and threw two kicks. Her strength and balance had returned and her daily prayers had put her back on the right path.

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.