Jason Todd did not like Bludhaven.
It was a cesspit of corruption, which might be hypocritical coming from a born and bred Gotham native, but no less true. At least Gotham had personality, something good buried beneath all the insanity. Bludhaven was practically wretched to the core, and Jason never quite understood why Dick had stayed in this city for so long. Why he tried to save it, while the rest of the family was struggling to save the city he was raised in. Perhaps he saw something worth saving here, something that really wasn't there.
Or maybe Jason was just projecting his resentment on his youngest brother's place of death. He had never been a particularly reasonable individual when it came to the people he loved.
Regardless, Bludhaven was where Cass made her home before she disappeared, and that meant it was his first stop. He drove his car through the streets, trying to keep his eyes on the road, until he finally arrived at his destination.
After it was decided to keep Bludhaven under their protection, it was quickly determined that Wayne Enterprises should have a foothold in the city. That included building a branch for both the actual company and the Wayne Foundation, along with their own personal apartment building / hotel for their employees and their families. Of course, the penthouse was specifically reserved for the Waynes themselves, and them only unless the staff was told otherwise.
Tim had fronted the project at Dick's behest, and Damian became the penthouse's first occupant upon its completion and his ascension to Nightwing. The suite was briefly left empty upon his death, only for Cass to take it for herself when she chose to separate from Jason and take up residence in the city. But now that she was gone…
He would've been forewarned if there was anything strange about her departure. Any hint of foul play. But there wasn't any, and while the trail had undoubtedly gone cold by now — he still needed to see the apartment. If there was any hint of where she had gone, it was there.
It had to be.
The valet was a haughty man that looked down his nose when he saw Jason's car, an old Mercedes-Benz that was chosen for being relatively inconspicuous when trying to seek out someone as high-profile as a Wayne. Jason discreetly rolled his eyes behind his dark shades as the valet started pontificating about the rates for valet service, before handing over his platinum credit card. When the man started sputtering and calling for his supervising manager, Jason sighed, took out his phone, and made a call.
When said supervising manager stepped forward and started asking him to step out of the car, security guards visibly behind him, Jason ignored him and started absentmindedly checking his nails. The man looked offended, almost red in the face really, before another employee approached him frantically with a phone in hand. The manager took it angrily, asking with an audible "WHAT!" before gradually paling and blanching. He slowly lowered the phone, handing it back to the employee, before bowing his head and apologizing profusely, to the confusion of the valet and the guards.
"Yes, yes, now are you going to park my car or not?" Jason did not have time for this.
"Of course, Mr. Wayne, of course."
At the sound of his last name, everyone paled. Damian's death, after all, had been well-publicized. That meant he could be only one Mr. Wayne — Jason Todd-Wayne, the current CEO and Chairman of Wayne Enterprises. AKA, the owner of the building and their boss.
The car door was opened hurriedly by the valet. Jason leisurely stepped out of the driver's seat, absentmindedly throwing the keys to the shaking valet, and nodding to the back door. Two more valets appeared to open it and take out his bags, placing them on a luggage cart. Jason took out his wallet and gave the manager a large tip for his troubles.
"Divvy this up equally between all of you," he ordered.
The manager nodded vigorously, once again continuing with the apologies. Jason ignored him, moving to follow the luggage cart into the nearby elevator, before stopping, having just remembered something.
"Also, I'm not here. And if the media says otherwise…" He let the threat hang in the air.
It was mean, he knew that. But Dick was always the nice one, and Jason wasn't in the mood for courtesy right now. He had a sister to find.
"Forgive us for the trouble downstairs, Mr. Wayne," said the building manager, a serious-looking middle-aged man with graying hair named Thompson. "Would you like them terminated?"
Jason raised an eyebrow at the phrasing before shaking his head. "No, it's fine. Just kindly remind them not to judge people by their appearances from now on."
"Very well," they stopped in front of the lobby desk. "What room would you like to stay in, sir? Currently all our VIP suites are open, so you're free to choose from any of them."
"Actually, I'd like to stay in the penthouse," Jason noticed Thompson falter at that statement, "Is there a problem with that?"
"Well, Miss Wayne is currently staying there. She's on vacation, as I'm sure you're aware," He wasn't, but it's not like he was going to contradict that, "But I am uncertain she would want you staying there."
"I'm her brother," Jason said firmly, "She won't mind. And if she does, tell her to direct her complaints to me. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, sir," Thompson turned to the lobbyist manning the front desk, and seconds later had a key card for the penthouse in hand. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne?"
"If there is, I'll call you. I am not to be disturbed except for emergencies," Jason turned to leave, "Oh, and Thompson?"
"Yes, sir?"
"As far you and everyone else in this building is aware, I'm not here. Keep it that way."
"Of course, sir."
Jason hated rich assholes.
That didn't mean he wasn't good at being one.
He gave another tip to the valets for them to split between themselves after they finished placing his bags in the room. Once they were gone, he locked the door, and leaned against it, letting out a breath of relief. Alone at last.
Then he looked around.
There were signs of Cass everywhere — theater bills, makeup, receipts for clothing and jewelry — everything you would expect of a spoiled (sweet) heiress to one of the biggest fortunes in the world. The cover that she projected to hide her true line of work. Jason knew he would find nothing here. The cleaning service of the building would have access to the penthouse, and Cass would never risk anything of importance to the curious eyes of strangers.
That was fine. It wasn't the penthouse he was there for anyway.
He picked up his bags and set them down on the bed. Zipping one open, he took off his shades and set them down on one of the side tables. He didn't need them right now. What he needed was one of his utility belts, colored black to blend in with his clothing. He strapped it around his waist, pulling at the band to make sure it was secure, before taking in another breath. It was time to get to work.
There was a reason why only the Waynes were allowed to use the penthouse. It was quickly determined that Dick's original setup as Nightwing would not suffice for maintaining their identities while they were working there. Blockbuster, after all, had managed to figure out Dick's true identity and discover Barbara's location as Oracle. Something more secure was needed if the Bats were to continue operating in Bludhaven.
Thankfully, they were both rich and close friends the West-Allen family of the Gem Cities. The fix was easy.
Jason went over to the walk-in closet. Opening it, he ignored the lines of Cass' clothing that surrounding him, heading directly towards the back of it, where a seemingly innocuous, undecorated wall was located. He felt the wall, searching for any signs of tampering, before discreetly knocking on a specific three times. A keypad revealed itself, and above it a retina scanner. Jason punched in a code, then bent down so the scanner was level with his eye.
A buzz sounded. The wall slid upwards, revealing a teleport pad. Jason stepped on it, and let the energy envelop him. The moment he was gone, the wall slid close again, the keypad and scanner hidden. Like it was never there to begin with.
Bludhaven's own personal Bat-Cave, purposefully designed to resemble the one back in Gotham, just with less 'trophies' to populate it. Located on the outskirts of Bludhaven, it was up to date with all the latest technology and had access to its own garage filled with vehicles of all kinds for whatever situations that required mobility and capacity when the standard 'fly over the rooftops' that the Family preferred as their mode of transportation would not suffice.
"Welcome, Batman," was the first thing Jason heard when he stepped off the pad. The place lit up like a Christmas tree, and Jason couldn't help but frown at what he saw. The place was almost completely in order, as if it hadn't been used at all recently.
"Computer, date of most recent log." His frown deepened when the computer responded with a date from two weeks ago. She'd been gone longer than they'd thought. "Show most recent log."
Cass didn't type up her reports. Even with all the tutoring Barbara and the rest of the Family had given her over the years, her ability to read and write was limited, and therefore so was her ability to type. Only her ability to speak had developed well, and that was because everyone was speaking to her all the time. As a result of that, whenever a computer used her authorization, it was voice-activated. She had to substitute her reports for video logs, with an in-built program of Barbara's automatically encrypting them before storage upon completion.
The computer flickered to life, revealing his sister's visage. Jason stared longingly for a moment, categorizing any changes. The only really noticeable one was the length of her hair — it had grown long, so long that she was now opting to tie into in a single, long braid. Was that wise? He didn't know, and he guessed it didn't matter.
She was the greatest martial artist in the world. Nobody would ever get close enough to take advantage.
As the log played, Jason resisted the urge to growl. Nothing. It was just a standard report, listing all the incidents she had resolved over the course of that night. There wasn't even an ongoing case she was investigating. Nothing to suggest where she had gone, why she had gone.
Jason took a deep breath. Okay, Todd. So the Computer is a bust. What about the rest of the Cave? He looked around. Nothing looked out of place, except—
He walked over to the training area. The bag hanging there had stitches on it already, despite being brand new judging by the lack of wear on the material. Cass may have just kicked it too hard, it happened to all of them, but maybe…
Jason took it off its hook, and took out a Batarang. He cut the bag open, right along the stitches, and watched as the sands flowed out. Sifting through them, he felt the first sense of satisfaction since he had gotten to Bludhaven. A note!
He took the note out, dusting off the sand and absentmindedly reminding himself to clean it up before he left. Numbers — no, coordinates. He turned the paper around, just to be thorough, and froze. It was a picture.
A picture of a dragon.
Jason rushed to the computer, pulling up the locater program and typing in the coordinates. The results came in instantly — a small mountain range in the innermost part of Maine. Tall, secluded, slightly treacherous. The perfect location for a master martial artist with isolationist tendencies. He was going to need climbing gear.
Well, at least I won't have to stay in Bludhaven any longer.
Two days later found him bundled up and climbing up the mountain with gloved hands and no safety gear. Apparently the area was restricted and climbing the mountain was a big fat 'NO', which made him wonder how the Dragon had managed to not only bypass that but also build a house and live here. Then again, he was Richard Dragon. Maybe the authorities had thought better than to try their luck.
Jason was tempted to use his credentials (read: money) to do the same, but thought better of it. The last thing he needed was the media catching wind of what he was doing. That meant sneaking in with barely any of his possessions and climbing up the mountain on his own and hoping no one caught him. It really said something about his life that he hardly blinked an eye at all that.
The climb had only taken a few hours. Having started a little before noon, it was just before sunset when he got to his destination. He spotted Dragon's house — a moderately large cabin, part of it no doubt a dojo — and allowed himself a smile. With that, he let himself rest, fully seating himself on the edge of the cliff and letting his legs dangle for a bit as he watched the sun fall.
He didn't even blink when he heard a pair of footsteps behind him. A man took a seat next to him, and Jason didn't have to look to know who he was.
"About time you got here," Richard Dragon grumbled.
"Your sister said you would come, though she didn't say when," Dragon clarified an hour later. They were seated inside his house now, a pot of hot tea between them. Jason his hands clasped around a steaming cup, eyes focused on light-colored liquid.
"Why was she here?" It wasn't for training, that much Jason was certain. Cass had surpassed Dragon ages ago, and Dragon's advancing age certainly hadn't helped. There wasn't much, if anything, that Dragon could teach her now.
Dragon took a sip of his tea. "She was here to ask me a favor. When I told her I couldn't fulfill it, she left, though not before asking me for another favor in exchange." What those favors were, he did not elaborate, and that immediately piqued Jason's interest.
"Where is she now?"
"That, I cannot tell you."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "Cannot? Or will not?"
Dragon hummed. "Both are accurate. She asked that you not be told until you fulfilled a certain condition."
"And that would be?"
"Defeat me in a duel."
Jason nearly dropped off his chair. "What," he asked flatly.
"Not to death, of course. Unlike others, I don't make a habit out of killing my students." He didn't have to say who those 'others' were. Everyone in the martial arts community knew who Richard Dragon used to run around with back in his heyday.
That hardly mattered to Jason. He was more concerned about his sister, and what he'd have to do to find said sister. Why would she set such a—Oh.
"The favor she asked for was for you to train me, wasn't it?"
"Wow, you caught on quick," Dragon observed.
Jason sighed. "And you agreed?"
Dragon shrugged. "Let's just say she touched my heart and leave it at that."
"Fine. It's not like I got any other leads. Just let me make a call first," Jason paused, "You do have cell reception up here, right?"
"You have got to be kidding me."
"No jokes, Babs. She used her disappearance to send me on a training trip," Jason pinched his nose, "Warn Steph and the others that I'll be gone longer than I thought."
"How long, though? Jason, Gotham needs you."
"I know, but I can't be Batman while worrying about my sister. Especially with Alfred…you know what I mean," Jason shrugged half-heartedly, "Besides, more training is always good, right?"
He heard Barbara sigh over the line. "I guess. But I still don't like it. Are you sure you don't want us to find Cass ourselves?"
"Please, Babs, don't act like I don't know about the search program you started running the moment we found out she was gone," Jason retorted knowingly. The accompanying silence that served as his friend's answer was all he needed to confirm his statement. "I'm not saying to stop, but don't get your hopes up. She was trained by you and Bruce. If anyone knows how to avoid our systems, it's her. This is our best bet, and I'm not giving it up."
"Okay. Can you at least give me an estimate?"
"Six months tops. I refuse to be gone any longer than that. If this training with Dragon starts taking too long, I will find a way to needle the answer out of him and leave."
"Six months," Barbara audibly swallowed, "Okay, we can handle six months. But if things get too rough—"
"Either call Clark or let Jon act as Superboy in his stead. It'll be Steph's call, and whatever she chooses I'll back. Are you fine with that?"
"I am. But even if I wasn't — you're Batman Jason. You've been Batman for two years, and you've done a pretty good job," Jason winced, "You're the leader of this family now, and whatever choices you make, the orders you give; even when I don't agree with them, I'll still follow them."
Jason felt his mouth go dry. "Thanks, Babs. That—That means a lot to me."
"Oh, don't get all sentimental on me now." There was laughter, and it filled Jason with happiness. He missed her. He missed home.
But it would never truly be home without Cass there with him. So, he had to stay. Just for now.
The next month and a half were spent just like that. Training. Knowing that his sister's location hinged on this, Jason allowed himself to forget everything else and focus solely on the art of combat. He obeyed Dragon's every instruction and devoted two hundred percent of himself to practice, only allowing himself to rest at night and during whatever breaks were given to him.
Dragon focused on what he already knew and perfecting it. Escrima first, followed by bo-jitsu, and then different styles of unarmed combat. They were done with that in almost two and a half weeks, much to Jason's surprise. Then they started on new weapons and new styles, and that was taking up the bulk of their time. Jason didn't exactly struggle learning any of the material — he was a well-trained combatant already before all this started — but it was still significantly more difficult than what they started with. Still, he persevered. His sister depended on his performance, and Jason would do anything to find her and bring her home.
In return for his tutelage, Jason opted to cook for the other man. Dragon said that he didn't have to, that it was a favor he was fulfilling, but Jason insisted, and Dragon relented. His teacher had his own personal garden in the back (how he managed that in Maine's climate of all places, Jason didn't understand), so ingredients were easy to access and plentiful enough for the two of them.
It was during one of these meals that Jason finally decided to clarify the entire situation.
"It was Shiva, wasn't it?" Jason said when there was lull in their conversation.
"When did you know?" Dragon asked instead of denying it, pouring himself another cup of water.
"Since the beginning, really. She's the most obvious connection between you two, and few people are able to unnerve Cass like she can." Jason shrugged. "It just made the most sense."
Dragon curled his lip, nodding. "Your sister came here to ask me to duel her in her place."
Jason frowned. "That doesn't sound like her. Even if she didn't want to participate in the duel herself, the idea of killing is so abhorrent to her that she'd never ask someone to do it for her either."
"Perhaps so, but when she came here, she sounded…desperate," Dragon said slowly. "I don't know exactly what Shiva did to drive your sister to this point, but when I made it clear that I wouldn't go through with it, she looked ready to keel over. She was scared. Very scared. It made me feel guilty just looking at her."
"Is that why you agreed to train me instead?" What motive did Cass have for that? What was going on? Jason had a feeling that, whatever it was, he wasn't going to like it.
"Yes," Dragon confirmed. "She knew you'd come searching for her, that you would tear the world apart to find her if you had to. So she decided to save you the effort and send you here. What motivation she has for your training here, however, I do not know. I assume you might?"
Jason closed his eyes, thinking deeply. "Why didn't you agree to duel Shiva?" He asked instead of answering.
If he took any notice or offense to the obvious subject change, Dragon didn't show it. "Because I can't give her what she wants. There was time where I was capable of it, but now…" He shrugged.
"…Do you still care for her?" There were so many rumors about Dragon and Shiva over the years, but this one — the closeness between them — Jason was willing to put a little more stock in. He was a detective. He could see the signs.
"Heh." It seemed Dragon was done with being surprised at how easily he was being read. "…I do. But whatever we had, it's gone. It's been gone for a long time. My presence wouldn't serve as anything other than a reminder of what we once were and could never be again. And since I can't give her the one thing she wants, she could never stand to have me again anyway."
The younger man thrummed his fingers against the table. That response, everything about this conversation, about Sandra Wu-San, was painting a picture. It was all conjecture right now, and he wouldn't have confirmation until he met up with Cass, but…
Shiva had been quiet for the last couple of years. Well, quiet for her. Both sides of the League of Assassins had been vying for her support and aid during the civil war. After all, she was Lady Shiva — her name was respected and feared throughout the world. Her skills, almost unrivaled. She would've tipped the scales for either side.
Yet she stayed neutral. She didn't partake in the war at all, despite all the potential for carnage and destruction that she thrived in. Why?
At that moment, Jason took a long look his teacher. He had seen pictures of Richard Dragon in his prime. So young, so powerful, every inch the warrior that was revered throughout the world as the one, true rival to Lady Shiva. This was a man who had taught some of the most skilled vigilantes to ever grace the Earth: Vic Sage, Helena Bertinelli, Connor Hawke, and of course, members of Jason's own family — Barbara Gordon, his older brother Dick Grayson, and his father Bruce Wayne.
Jason saw only a shadow of that man now. Oh, Dragon was still far more skilled than the vast majority of martial artists in the world, and would continue to be so until the day he died. But now there were wrinkles. Gray hairs. Pain. He was a strong shadow, almost solid, but still a shadow. He wasn't the greatest anymore.
And if Richard Dragon was like this…
Oh, Cass, Jason laced his fingers together in a familiar pose, fear coursing through his heart, What have you gotten into?
The training continued. Jason worked harder than ever, and gradually, it payed off. His moves were sharper, quicker, and flowed much better. Even more noticeably, his repertoire of usable weapons had grown to a virtual armory. He always knew he had a gift for weapons, but Dragon was forcing him to finally utilize it to a level that none of his former mentors had ever pushed him towards. Few of them were truly mastered, of course, but they were certainly wielded with expertise, and he imagined he would master them all, one by one, as the years rolled on.
Still, he couldn't help but be surprised when Dragon declared his training was almost over, one month after their talk. He had seen his teacher in action, and Jason was fairly certain he nowhere close to beating him. But Jason was the student, Dragon was the teacher, and enough respect had been beaten into him not to contradict his teacher's words.
There was just one thing left Dragon wanted to teach him, he was told.
Jason found out what it was that day, when Dragon started laying out weapons on the dojo floor. Escrima sticks. A bo-staff. A wooden sword. Those were very specific weapons, and Jason wondered what his teacher had planned.
"Pick one up," Dragon ordered him, and Jason complied, taking the escrima sticks first. "Attack me."
Jason did just that. Blows were exchanged, fast and furious, but soon one stick was gone, and he had to switch the remaining one between hands to compensate. When that one was gone too, Jason made the near fatal mistake of expecting the spar to stop, and nearly got a chop to the throat for his troubles.
Wondering what Dragon was up to, Jason continued to dodge, trying to fight back, and failing. Dragon seemed to have a counter for every move he made, and Jason was being beaten back. Landing on his ass, Jason subconsciously reached back, feeling the familiar weight of the staff, and blocked the next blow with it, and then swinging the back end, forcing his opponent back.
Now on the initiative again, Jason pushed on with his attack. Dragon adapted to the presence of the staff quickly, and that initial burst of offense was soon repelled. Unwilling to let go of the advantage, Jason dropped the staff, lunging back for the sword. He rolled into a stance, and the battle continued.
And so it went. Every time Dragon would turn the tide of the battle, Jason would retreat and turn it back with a new weapon. At one point, he even used one escrima stick in conjunction with the sword to recreate a bastardization of his dual sword style. And gradually, ever so gradually, he began to dominate.
Had Dragon been in his prime, Jason would have never gotten that far. He would've put a good fight, a great fight really, but the outcome would be obvious to both of them, a hopeless battle that the student would never have the chance to win. But Dragon wasn't in his prime. His prime was long gone, and Jason? Jason was just on the cusp of his.
It was a long fight. So long that both of them had lost track of time. And the end…the end came quick.
Another drop. Another swing of the legs. Another flip.
Jason Todd had Richard Dragon pinned down with his full body, a wooden sword at his throat. For a moment the two men stared at each other, both panting hard. "I yield," was croaked out by the older of the two. Jason finally allowed his shoulders to sag. He dropped the sword, letting it roll away, and then dropped on the other side of the teacher, ready just to let the world fade away.
"Well done," was the last thing he heard before the exhaustion won out.
"Do you mind if I stay an extra two days or so? For the bruises?" Jason asked later that night as he was plating the food for dinner.
"If it means having your cooking for a little longer, then not at all," Dragon joked back, pouring the tea. "Are you sure you're willing though? Your sister is waiting for you."
"You and I both know that whatever trouble she's in, I'll be useless to her if I go to her now without taking time to heal," Jason rebutted easily, taking his seat next to his now former mentor. "Let me ask you a question, though. Why did you let me use weapons?"
Dragon shrugged. "You have a gift. No reason you shouldn't use it."
Jason blinked, then looked down at his food. "A gift, huh?"
"You're quick to master a weapon, quick to switch between them, multiple ones at that, even in the heat of battle — and switch back. Something like that is rare," Dragon took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "You should take advantage of it."
Jason said nothing. Instead, he looked back at the dojo, where a rack of weapons stood innocently off to the side. It would give him the edge in battle, but would it work for Batman? Something to think about.
"And now that you've asked your questions, let me ask mine," Dragon leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Why are you so intent on finding your sister?"
His former student raised an eyebrow. "She didn't tell you?"
"All she said is that you would come for her. She never said why you had to come for her at all."
Jason hummed. "We had a bit of a falling out. She left home because she said we needed space. I…it was my fault. The last two years have been hard on us, we lost our three other siblings and—" He stopped abruptly. He couldn't say much more.
"I'm sorry," Dragon said sincerely.
"Don't be," Jason told him, sighing, "It's not like you had anything to do with it. Anyway, I can't leave things that way between us. And even if that weren't the case, she still needs to come home."
"Why?"
"Disregarding all our other responsibilities? Our grandfather," he swallowed, easily beating back the sting in his eyes. "He's dying. He doesn't have much time left."
And oh, how that hurt to say. If Jason were honest with himself, it was Alfred, more than Gotham, that almost stopped him from going after Cass. Seeing the stalwart, unassailable figure from his childhood, so weak and pale and barely able to get up from his bed in the morning — it made him want to stay, to give up everything so they could spend as much time together as possible, whatever time they had left. But he couldn't. He had responsibilities, people that counted on him. And Alfred — Alfred was so understanding.
He wasn't dead yet, and already Jason was beginning to miss him.
"He's already outlived our father, and our three brothers. We're all he has left." Jason curled his hand. "My sister needs to see him, before he goes. If she still wants to leave afterward, she can, but until then…"
Dragon appeared sympathetic, breathing in a shallow breath. "Well then, I guess you better go get her."
"Yeah," Jason said, eyes far. "I guess so."
A few days later, it was time to leave. Jason stepped out into the early morning, taking in the sunrise. The world seem bright, brighter than it had been these past couple of months since he realized his sister had fallen off the face of the planet.
"Thank you for everything," he said earnestly, holding out his hand to Dragon.
"Your welcome," Dragon smiled at him, taking the offered hand, "It was a pleasure to teach you, really. If only for the food." They both laughed.
"Is there any way I can repay you?" Jason asked once the laughter subsided. "Money is no object, not for us."
Dragon shook his head. "I didn't do this for money. If you want to repay me, you finish what you set out here to do in the first place." He let go of Jason's hand.
Jason felt the slip of paper, holding it tight like it was something precious. He gave Richard Dragon a single nod, and turned away.
It was time to go.
The coordinates on the paper Dragon gave him were in the more mountainous regions of the Philippines. Jason chartered a private plane there and spent the sixteen hour flight brushing up on his Tagalog. Intent on keeping his arrival on the down low, he exited the plane under heavy disguise and left in private car with tinted windows.
All of them had bought up properties across the world under assumed names. Most of them were categorized in the Computer, and Jason had access to all of them thanks to his status as Batman. One such property in the Philippines had been bought by Tim during his tenure as Wayne Enterprises' CEO, and Jason appropriated it for this endeavor, choosing it as his base of operations.
Once he was settled in, he scheduled another trip to the area where Cass was supposed to be located, using a nondescript white van for his mode of transportation. Using public transportation risked the possibility of being recognized, and anything fancier would just call attention for the area he was going to. And since he didn't know the roads, he needed to rely on a hired driver.
Making the necessary calls, he spent the rest of the day sleeping off the jet lag and eating. Then, the following day, he dressed in some new clothes, these more suited for the tropical climate, and packed a bag of spare clothing and weaponry, along with water and snacks. Even by car, the trip would be long.
A doorbell indicated the arrival of the car. He greeted the driver, paying him half the fee upfront and promising the rest later, then got in the back seat of the van, kicking his feet up against one of the seats and leaning back in his own. Almost there, he thought.
Almost there.
The place where Cass had chosen to station herself was obviously somewhere that didn't get a lot of traffic. The houses were more like huts, made haphazardly of scraps than actual building material. The people wore old clothes, almost dirty rags. There were hardly any cars beside their own. It was all the hallmarks of a third world country, and Jason was painfully reminded of his own childhood.
Reminding himself to donate money here before they left, he thanked the driver in Tagalog and told him that he'd be back with another person in a couple of hours. He took a long look around, before taking out his phone.
The GPS pointed him to a house on the very far outskirts of the village, near the peak of the mountain. Jason passed less and less people the closer he got to it — which may have been the point, he wagered. Less people, in a place like this, meant less likelihood of being recognized. And if she was trying to hide, this would be the place to do it.
He inhaled deeply the moment he arrived in front of the door, and gave it a nice, firm knock. He didn't hear any footsteps.
He didn't have to.
The door opened, and there she was. Her hair was even longer than it was in the video log, and her face wasn't as clean and polished as it usually was, but it was undoubtedly her.
Cassandra Cain-Wayne. His sister.
"Jason." She smiled at him.
"Cass." He smiled back.
A slow chapter, and not a lot of interaction that isn't between Jason and Richard Dragon. Everything is building up to Chapter 18 (the chapter I'm looking forward to the most), which has the most feels out of all of them.
Cass is acting very out of character, as Jason has realized, even she hasn't showed up yet. It'll become more obvious later on, but I'll say it here too — Jason wasn't the only one to lose Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian. The rest of the family did too, Cass especially. And it affected her on the same level as it did Jason, just…differently. This thing with Shiva especially rattled her, hence why she left Bludhaven. It will be explained in the next chapter why.
And Alfred. Yes, Alfred is dying. He had been gradually weakening over the years since Bruce's death, and the death of three of his surrogate grandchildren in such quick succession piled even more grief on him. He died a year after these events, when Jason and Cass were twenty-nine. That's why Jason is so desperate to find Cass now — he doesn't want to be apart from Alfred when he could go any day, but at the same time he can't bear the idea of Alfred dying without both of his remaining family by his side.
Next chapter: Jason and Cass talk, then go hunting.