"Richard Dragon arrived yesterday," Bruce said slowly, eyes still trained on the paper.

Jason, who was in the midst of making a stew, didn't falter as he continued to make clockwise turns with a wooden spoon. "Is that so? Has he already settled in?"

"Yes. He's ready to start teaching Cass tomorrow," There was a small pause, "Would you mind taking her?"

"No," Jason said instantly, "Text me the address."

"Alright."

There was another lull in silence.

"Jason…your suit is almost done." It's clear Bruce wanted to say something else, but decided to change tact at the last moment.

Now that was something that caught Jason's attention. "When will it be delivered?"

"Two weeks from today. You'll need to test it before you start going out in the field again."

Jason hummed. "Spar with me?"

"…Sure."

It was a start.

The next day after breakfast, Jason helped Cass pack up a gym bag and took her to the building where Richard Dragon had set up shop. Throughout the trip, things were silent; though not because of Cass' lack of speech. She was aware he wasn't happy with this arrangement, and was doing her best not to antagonize him. Jason privately admitted that this was pointless — he had never been able to stay mad at Cass for any appreciable amount of time. There was a reason she was everyone's favorite.

He parked the car in the visitor's garage and led her up the stairs to the lobby. After registering with the security guard, they were directed to an elevator at the end of the corridor, one that was much more spacious than the others. It was clearly one not often used, as the elevator cart was already there when they clicked the up button, empty and free of any other patrons. Jason ushered his sister inside and clicked the button for the top floor, where the penthouse was located, only relaxing when the elevator closed, finally giving them privacy.

"Remember Cass," Jason said once they were completely alone, "If you don't want to do this, just say so. No one will hold it against you."

Cass simply smiled at him and gently patted him on the cheek. Jason was tempted, just for a moment, to reject her affirmation. To fight her on this, to talk to her about why, exactly, she wanted to do this. But he couldn't. She was his sister.

There wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't do for her.

The elevator chimed, and when they got out, Dragon was already there, waiting for them in front of the door. The two of them couldn't help but stop and stare at him for a long moment.

Richard Drakunovski, aka Richard Dragon, was a tall, muscular Eurasian man with striking red hair. He was younger than Jason had last seen him, though still carried himself with a gait that bespoke his sheer experience as a fighter. To someone like Jason and Cass, trained to assess threats at a glance, it wouldn't be hard to believe this man was a contender for being the greatest martial artist in the world.

Dragon, for his part, was observing them just as closely. His gaze landed on Jason first, though he betrayed nothing beyond a slight narrowing of the eyes. When he looked at Cass, however, both of them could see the flash of recognition. Richard Dragon knew Lady Shiva well, after all. They had traveled together, fought together and against each other. He was her greatest rival — and quite possibly, the only man who truly held a place in her heart. He'd know her daughter anywhere.

Silently, he shifted away and opened the door, silently gesturing for his new student to enter. Cass hesitated, but a comforting hand on the back and an encouraging smile from Jason invigorated her, and she followed her new teacher's instruction. Dragon followed after her for a moment, whispering to her to change, before going back outside. He faced Jason again, face completely neutral.

"Your father said you don't approve of me," he stated bluntly.

"Actually, I approve of you greatly," Jason corrected him. "I know she'll be fine under your tutelage. What I don't approve of is what you'll bring with you once word gets out that you're out of hiding."

Dragon hummed. "I can't blame you for that," he admitted. Denying it would be pointless; Richard Dragon was one of the best, and that came with its own pitfalls, something they were both well aware of.

Jason nodded along, burying his hands in his pockets. "She'll come. For both of you."

"She will."

"…Protect her. Please. She's just a child that wants to do good."

Dragon reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, uncharacteristically gentle. "You have my word."

Just this once, Jason smiled at him.

Two weeks passed. Just as Bruce said, his new suit arrived, designed exactly to his specifications. It was almost completely black with the exception of red accents on the forearm and shin guards, and the red bat symbol splashed in the center. Accompanying it was a specially-designed black domino mask that had many of the Batman suit's safeguards, including electrification in case anyone outside of the Family tried to take it off his face, and a face mask to cover his mouth and filter away any impurities. He'd rather not die of lung cancer this time around, thank you very much.

As for the equipment, his utility belt was standard. Batarangs, listening equipment, smoke capsules, tear-gas capsules, trackers, mini-explosives, sedatives, taser gun…it would take too long to list the contents, which was just fine to him. And as for his weapon…

Jason picked up the black escrima sticks, clicking the buttons and watching the current of electricity run through them. Satisfied with that, he turned them around and looked at the ends, lips curling when he saw them.

Let's see if this works…

"Are you sure about this, Master Bruce?" Alfred murmured as he helped Bruce settle into his suit.

Bruce grunted. "Jason needs a trial run with his suit and I need to know what he's fully capable of. No matter how young he is now, he was still a Batman. And that means the only person that can test him," he pulled his cowl up, "is another Batman."

"But sir, considering how…tense…things have been between you two, don't you think it would be more prudent to wait?"

Batman simply stared at him, then left.

Alfred sighed. Why must violence always be the answer in this family?

"Have you decided on a codename?" Was the first thing that came out of Batman's mouth when he met with his son. Both of them were in full gear, dressed for combat.

"Knight, just for now." The newly-dubbed Knight rolled his shoulders, loosening them. "If it doesn't fit, I'll think of something new later."

"Very well then," Batman gave him a single nod. "Are you ready?"

For this specific sparring session, he had used the JLA's teleporter technology and had them transported to a large, abandoned warehouse located at the outskirts of Gotham. There, he had generated a hard-light reconstruction of a section of Crime Alley for them to fight in. One where they would be able to fight freely in, without holding back.

"What are the conditions for victory?" Knight asked, crossing his arms.

"Capture or submission."

"Not knockout?"

"No," Batman took a deep breath, "We're not trying to actively harm each other. I still have to go out on patrol tonight."

Knight hummed. Then he threw down a smoke capsule.

Batman automatically jumped back, using his cape to cover his mouth from the fumes. Smart. He readied himself for retaliation, but when the smoke cleared, Knight was nowhere to be seen. Batman narrowed his eyes, using his cowl's in-built HUD system to parse through the dark shadows of the building. The warehouse's lighting was minimal, allowing the reconstruction to maintain enough brightness to convey a standard night in Gotham.

When the display failed to pick anything out, Batman took a chance and used his grappling hook to fly up to the nearest rooftop. Just as he landed, he was beset by a body slamming into him, sending him skidding. He managed to stop himself before he fell off the building, but when turned around to retaliate, Knight wasn't there. Batman licked his lips. Stealth certainly wasn't a problem with this son.

He jumped to another rooftop, and then to another, where there was far more space. Then he waited. The conditions for victory meant they couldn't avoid each other forever, and Knight knew well that this was an assessment as much as it was a trial run. He would have to go after his father eventually.

Batman was proven right five minutes later when he felt the slightest change air behind the back of his head. He ducked down, letting the kick fly over him. Knight reoriented his body, landing in a way that allowed that same leg to swing again, this time towards his opponent's legs. Batman jumped over that too, flipping away and throwing two batarangs in retaliation. Knight immediately drew one of the escrima sticks on his back and knocked them away, then retreated himself the moment they began flashing red. He managed to make it to the next rooftop just as the batarangs exploded, leaving cracked concrete in their wake.

Given a brief reprieve, Batman saw Knight draw the other escrima stick, holding one in each hand. For a moment, he saw Nightwing where his second son stood, and shook his head. He'd ruminate over that later.

This time, he took the initiative. He disappeared back into the shadows, careful to keep watch as Knight climbed down the building, searching for him. He remained blended, waiting until his son was close, and then launched himself. Knight immediately dropped to the ground to avoid his lunge, and soon the two were at it, Batman's gauntlets meeting the black metal in a furious series of blows.

One escrima stick was eventually knocked away, but that didn't deter Knight in the least. He ducked down, and before Batman could blink his chin was kicked upwards. He retreated, rubbing his sore jaw and wondering how his opponent managed to get the leverage for such a powerful blow. As he lifted his eyes, he froze.

Knight's last remaining escrima stick had extended into a full-length bo-staff. The vigilante in question twirled it expertly, before bending down into a ready stance. Batman felt his heart beat erratically, as he remembered the account Tim told him of his first training session with his older brother. He had mentioned that, according to Jason, the bo-staff was his primary weapon, had he not?

Before Batman could ponder over that more, he was almost struck by Knight, who had cleared the difference between them in record time. He swung one end and then other, twisting and turning and striking glancing hits. It took time for his opponent to adjust, but soon one of Batman's gauntlets met the middle of the staff, where the extended junction served as its weak spot. Knight kicked him in the chest before the weapon could break, sending him a distance away again.

He took out the other escrima stick again, clicking a button on the other one to make it shorten back to its original length. Batman was about to charge once more, but stopped when he saw Knight bundle the sticks together. The two sticks latched on to each other, merging and morphing into a sword-like shape, long and sharp with a guard and handle. Knight swung the sword expertly, before pointing it directly at Batman.

Polymorphic technology. I did give Lucius the carte blanche to use whatever he needed to meet the full specifications of Jason's suit. And the sword… Damian used a sword in battle. For their training sessions, they used wooden ones, but in an actual fight, there's no doubt he used a real one. And this — this couldn't be a coincidence. Oh, Jason…

Batman didn't have time to think anymore. Knight closed the distance again, swinging the sword with quick, precise blows that Batman struggled to block. Batman might have the advantage in strength, but Knight undoubtedly beat him in speed and mobility. He knew how to use his body, no matter what shape it was in. It was all the hallmarks of an experienced combatant.

The fight continued for some time. Just when Batman thought he was making headway, Knight would switch weapons and catch him off guard. The quickness in which he would do it — going from sticks to the sword to the staff and then jumbling it up all over again — spoke of years of practice and development. This style did not come out of nowhere. It was built up, piece by piece, refined over the years into something truly unique, with a kind of slavish devotion that few had. Something near impossible to duplicate without some otherworldly power or technology.

Jason… Batman had seen enough. This was too much for today. They could continue the assessment later.

He waited until he saw it — the twitch indicated a switch, the slightest of openings, and punched through, hitting his son right in the chest. Knight skidded back, using his gloved fingers to slow down the slide. He looked up, and saw the net coming for him. Without even thinking, he clicked another button one of his sticks, morphing it into a short sword, and cut through his intended prison. He did the same with other stick, standing up and ready with dual blades now.

Batman clicked his teeth in frustration. A new style. This must be Jason's weapon. It only made sense. From what he understood, in the previous timeline Cass preferred unarmed combat. That left only Jason, and Jason had stopped using guns when he became Batman. And from what little he gleaned from his son's time with the All-Caste, he had these weapons mastered before all the others. Jason had made it a point to make sure the third Batman avoided as much association with the deceased Red Hood as much as possible, and if it was known that the Red Hood used this style…no wonder it took so long to come out.

The battle begun anew, and now Batman had to account for that fourth weapon, making things even more difficult. He was beginning to tire. He was nowhere close to hanging it up yet, but he simply didn't have the youthful exuberance he used to when he was first starting out. And while Knight might be even older than he was, his body was young. He could keep going much longer than Batman could.

If he wanted to win, he needed to get that weapon away from his son. That would even the playing field, force them to unarmed combat. And while Jason might be skilled in that field as well, he lacked the height and weight he used to have for his original style. With no weapon to equalize things, it would just be a matter of catching his son.

He had to wait until Knight was using the single sword again. The sticks and the blades were dual weapons, and he only needed one of them to switch to the staff. But the sword — the sword required both, and taking it out would leave his son with his fists and feet only. He just needed to time it at the right moment.

He got his wish mere seconds later. Knight took his two blades and attached them together, lengthening back into the sword. He started slashing away once more, trying to cut into his father's armor. Batman waited, and just when Knight had lifted the sword with one hand in preparation for a downward strike, he made his move. Quick as a whip, he brandished a batarang and threw it with more force than usual. It hit its mark, knocking the sword out of Knight's hand and sending it flying quite a ways away.

Knight only had a moment to observe his suddenly bereft hands before he had to dodge a punch to the face. He dodged two more before countering with one of his own and then using Batman's knee as a launching pad for a kneestrike. Batman barely whiffed that one, but was unprepared for Knight using the opportunity to grab his arm and lock him into a hold, his leg squeezing his opponent's neck. Struggling for a moment, Batman fell forward, breaking the hold with the force of the ground. Knight grunted in pain and let go, rolling away.

This was getting out of hand. One of them had to patrol tonight (it being the weekend, meaning Robin was out with Young Justice), and at this rate neither of them would be able to.

Taking a chance, Batman lunged forward, pinning his son down with his bigger body. Using his hand, he forced Knight's head back with a painful pull. The boy was struggling with all his might, but the difference in strength was too much.

"Yield," Batman growled out, wincing when Knight hit somewhere close to a particularly sensitive area. "Yield!"

Knight was panting. But evidently deciding that this was no longer a battle worth continuing, he let out a reluctant "I yield."

Batman immediately fell over, giving them both freedom. They stayed like that, side-by-side, resting for God knows how long. That had gotten far more intense than either of them had intended.

"Jason…that style you were using…" Bruce struggled to get the words out.

"You noticed, huh?" Jason didn't sound particularly surprised. "What about it?"

"…Why?"

Jason seemed to ponder over that for a long moment, blowing out a loose lock of hair out of his face. "…When you died, everyone knew it. They knew because Dick — Nightwing — disappeared around the same time, and Batman's style changed abruptly. He was quicker, lighter on his feet, not to mention he was quite a few inches shorter."

"The same wasn't true when Dick died. The Justice League never publicized the second Batman's death, because that's not how Batman works. We're the shadows, not the light. So, I decided to take advantage of that. Dick had been teaching me escrima ever since he became Batman again. It was his way of freshing up on it, and my way of both spending time with him and learning a new weapon. So when I became Batman, I started using them so no one would realize Dick and I were different people. I was leaner than you, but taller than Dick, so it didn't always work, but it worked enough for me to be satisfied."

"And the others?"

"I had the same arrangement with Tim that I did with Dick. After Tim died, it just felt right, you know? To honor him. I made my escrima sticks extendable, and if I lost one, I would be able to switch weapons easily. And after Damian…well, I had the sword mastered long before either of the others. You can't wield two without knowing how to wield one first, and all that. So I added in his weapon as well." Jason shrugged. "But as for the style I just showed you? Someone else gave me the idea for that."

Bruce blinked. "Who?"

"Richard Dragon."

The older man sat up immediately at that, wincing, before looking down at his still inert son. "You were trained by Dragon?"

"I was. I was one of his last students, I believe," Jason sat up as well, rolling his shoulders. He pulled his knees slightly up, letting his arms hang over them. "He only isolated himself more the older he got."

"That explains its potency," Bruce muttered. "You must've been a terror as Batman." He sounded approving.

Jason smirked. "A lot of people said I had a gift. He was the one who made me open it and use it."

Bruce hummed. "Why did you seek out training with him?"

"I didn't, actually," Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "I went searching for him for a different reason."

Bruce frowned. "What other reason could you possibly have?"

"…Cass."

The elephant in the room. Of course.

"What happened? Why would you need him for Cass?" Dragon would no doubt be getting in on his years by then. Cass would have long surpassed him in combat ability, just from what Jason had told him she was capable of in her prime.

Jason sighed. "After Damian died, I wasn't at my best. Neither was she. We kept close, because in some ways we were all the other had left. Us and Alfred. But I—I grew overprotective," he looked ashamed, "Enough that I drove her away."

"'Drove her away'? Jason, what do you mean by that?" Bruce put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, urging him forward.

"From Gotham," Jason clarified for him. "I drove her away from Gotham. I was stifling, controlling, and she couldn't handle it. So she left, said we needed time away from each other. At the time I resented her for it as much as I resented myself, but in hindsight, she was right. We were becoming scarily co-dependent, and that wouldn't have ended well in the long run."

"She went to Bludhaven, which was in need of her protection again now that Damian was dead. And she let me keep track of her for a while until…until she vanished."

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing, silently asking his son to continue.

"It was about a week before I went searching for her. I would've gone after her sooner, but around that time is when Carrie started showing up as Robin. While I was distracted with that, something big went down. Really big. And when Cass didn't show up to help…" Jason exhaled. "That's when I started getting really worried."

"What could have possibly…" Suddenly, a metaphorical light bulb went on above Bruce's head. "Shiva. She went after Cass around that time, didn't she?"

Jason said nothing.

"Jason, tell me everything." Bruce ordered firmly, allowing no quarter. "Don't think I haven't noticed. You're not just afraid of Shiva finding Cass, you're terrified of it. Fear like that doesn't come from nowhere, so explain. Now." He added extra emphasis on the last word, displaying how he wasn't taking any half-answer anymore.

And Jason — Jason closed his eyes, sighing once more. "When Cass was Batgirl, she defeated Shiva in a duel. Obviously, Cass didn't kill her, but it stuck with Shiva regardless. You and I both know what Shiva wants, so when she started getting older and no one else managed to replicate the feat, she became desperate. So desperate that it was…" He shook his head. Obviously, it was something extreme

"So she started hounding Cass again because she knew that Cass could give her what she wanted. I surmised that much."

"You don't know the half of it, Bruce." Jason said, a little more roughly than he wished. "Sandra Wu-San never got over losing her sister. At least part of her motivation for becoming Lady Shiva was so her sister's death would not be in vain. That it would be honored in some way. After all, she slept with her sister's murderer and conceived a child with him in exchange for her own life — something had to make up for that."

"As far as she's concerned, Lady Shiva is Carolyn's legacy as much as it is Sandra's. And when you carry a legacy, you do everything you can to make sure nothing taints it." Jason laid back down, eyes focused on the ceiling above. "And when that legacy is that of a warrior, especially one of Shiva's caliber, there is no greater taint to it than age."

Bruce swallowed.

"You understand, don't you?" Jason let a small, bitter smirk cross his face. "We're like Shiva. We play ourselves up as this unbeatable legend, this otherworldly, incomprehensible force, and it's the biggest lie we tell the world. Because we're not any of those things. We're human. And humans age. They grow old." His voice dropped in volume. "They grow weak."

"Shiva wasn't the best anymore, and she knew it." Bruce finished for him, having connected the dots. "So the only way to make sure her legacy held up was to die in battle, against a great warrior. And who better than someone who beat her in her prime? Who better than her own daughter?"

"Exactly."

There was another beat, a momentary silence.

"Cass didn't do it."

"No, she didn't."

"…Did you?"

Jason remained quiet.

"Jason—"

"Perhaps," his son cut him off, taking a deep breath, "We should start at the beginning."

"You sure about this, Jay?" Stephanie couldn't help but ask one more time, arms crossed. She was wearing her Batwoman suit, but with her cowl down, revealing her long blond hair and blue eyes. "I'm worried too, but she can take care of herself. Are you sure you don't want to wait?"

"Positive," Jason reaffirmed, strapping the last of his weapons in the suitcase. Unlike her, he wasn't wearing his suit; instead he was wearing short-sleeved black shirt and a pair of tight tactical pants and boots. Slung over a nearby chair was a dark beige jacket with some heat tech cleverly sewn inside for particularly cold nights. Who knew where this trip would take him?

"But Gotham needs you! You have so many responsibilities here — not just Batman, but the company, the Justice League—"

"I've been on leave from the League since Damian died," Jason pointed out, grateful he managed to keep his voice even. Even though it had been months since then, the pain of that loss still felt raw. "Luke can handle the company while I'm gone, especially with Lucius in his corner. And as for Gotham…it'll still be standing by the time I come back. And I will come back, Steph, I promise you."

Stephanie still wasn't satisfied. "Jason, Gotham needs a protector. Duke can't protect it day and night and Luke will have to cut back on his hours as Batwing to run the company. There's no one else—"

"There is," Jason interrupted her, "There's you."

The former Batgirl dropped her jaw. She quickly snapped it close and shook her head vigorously. "No, no way. You can't be serious."

"I am. While I'm gone, I'm leaving Gotham under your protection. You'll have full access to the Cave and its facilities. The Family will be under your command during major crises. If need be, the League will call on you for help, not me."

"Jason…" Stephanie was almost on the verge of hyperventilating now.

Jason couldn't have that. He stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, look at me. I wouldn't put this all on you if I didn't think you could handle it. Kate chose you to be her successor before she died for a reason, Steph. This is why."

His friend stared at him for a long moment, then pulled him into a strong hug. Jason hesitated only for a moment before returning it. All he had lost over the years had taught him that such gestures of affection should be cherished, not pushed away.

"I still think you're making a mistake," Stephanie muttered in his ear, though there was no heat to it.

"I'm not," Jason said firmly, pulling her away to look at her again. "I trust you, Steph."

Stephanie smiled at him.

"That being said, I can't deny they're might be threats that the Family can't handle on its own. So, your comm has a direct link to Clark — just call on him and he'll bail you out," He paused for a moment, "There's also Alfred, but…try not to rely on him too much."

"I know," Stephanie nodded solemnly. No one in the Family was blind to Alfred's deteriorating state. Even now he was in his room sleeping, no longer able to handle the long nights that demanded so much from them.

"Good. And as for the students, focus on the mental first. Detective skills, computer literacy, that sort of thing. Any combat training should only be limited to the basics. Jon already knows those but Carrie…" Jason shrugged, "Either way, I want her and I to train them in the advanced material."

"Got it," Stephanie saluted him, causing Jason to lightly push her in annoyance and amusement. She giggled in turn, causing him to shake his head.

"I'm going to miss you, Steph."

"And I'm going to miss you, Jay. Bring her back to us, alright?"

"That's the plan," his eyes were far away, "Let's hope it goes our way."

"Now, listen to Steph, alright?" Jason said seriously to Carrie, crouching down a bit so they were eye-level, "For all intents and purposes, she's me for the time being while I'm gone. Hopefully that won't be too long."

"Okay," the girl agreed, though there was a bit of confusion on her face, "But where are you going?"

Jason looked up to meet Jon's eyes, and the younger man instantly understood. "You're going to get Cass."

"Cass?"

"Cassandra Cain-Wayne. His sister. You would know her as the Black Bat."

"The Black Bat!" Carrie exclaimed in genuine surprise, "But she's an urban legend!"

"Oh no," Jason smirked, "She's every bit as real as you and me. And I'm going to get her back."

Carrie frowned. "But why was she gone in the first place?"

Jason sighed and started rubbing the back of his head. "It was my fault," he admitted, "We had a bit of a falling out after the death of our youngest brother four months back."

"Oh." And now she looked guilty.

"It's alright. I'm in a better place now, and hopefully she'll see that when we see each other again," he rubbed his arms. "It might be selfish, but I need her here, not wherever she is now."

"Why?" Carrie couldn't help but ask.

"Because she's an amazing vigilante, and Gotham needs all the protectors she can get," Jason paused, then continued, "Because she's the greatest fighter I've ever known, and if you're going to do this, I won't settle for you learning from anything less than the best." Carrie blushed at that one.

"But most of all, it's because she's my sister, and I love her. No matter what happens, I can't stand to leave things like this between us forever. I've already lost so much — I refuse to lose her too."

"And you won't," Jon agreed, face settled into something determined. "Don't worry about us Jay — we'll behave for Steph. You just worry about Cass."

"Good," Jason looked back at Carrie, and brushed her hair back with his hands. "Steph will start you on your training. Cass and I will take over when we come back. Okay?"

Carrie nodded, then darted over to hug him. Jason froze before slowly returning it, patting her softly on the back. After a moment, they let go of the embrace, allowing Jason to stand back up. He exchanged a nod and a smile with Jon, then went to take his bags to the car.

It was time to bring his sister home.

A little shorter than usual, but I thought this was a good place to end. The three next chapters are going to be this flashback, which is why it's normal text instead of italics. I don't want to deal with trying to edit all that — it'll hurt my eyes.

We're going to have in-depth exploration of Jason's relationship with Cass in the first timeline. I know she's been a bit short-ended lately thanks to the lack of speech, which is partly why I had this arc positioned first. Since future Cass knows a lot more speech and is a lot more talkative, you're going to see her interact with Jason more. It'll be quite the experience. I'm sure you'll all enjoy it. Or at least I hope you do — this arc is going to last until Chapter 18. I know, because I wrote all of it before I posted this chapter.

As for everything else — the outfit is based on Nightwing's animated Young Justice outfit. Mostly the third season. That's the kind of outfit Jason would prefer now, as opposed to his Red Hood getup. And as for his weapon and fighting style, I hoped I surprised you! A little clarification, though — the style he used on Bruce is not the style he uses for every opponent. Typically he just uses one weapon, usually the escrima sticks or the sword; he only breaks out that style when he's dealing with a particularly tricky opponent.

Please review or comment! I love some good constructive criticism!