*Enola Holmes voice* Tis I.
Hey guys! I hope you are all doing well and staying safe out there! Here's the next chapter, and let me just say I am SO EXCITED! We're finally getting into the more exciting episodes, and I feel like Cassie's characters is really starting to take shape! I've included some more development and a glimpse at her relationships with other characters in the show, so I really hope you enjoy it!
Wayne Manor felt even more intense the second time she was there.
Cassandra sat straight, dressed in her nicest pair of jeans and a breathable, yet professional blouse. Though she normally preferred mid-driff shirts, she figured they probably weren't appropriate until she knew what Alfred was ok with around Bruce.
"Miss Cassandra," the butler's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she stood, turning her head to see him rounding the couch to shake her hand. "Thank you very much for coming. He's in the study."
"And what would I be doing?"
"Simple things. He's obsessed with the case of his parents, spends all hours looking through old files. I just need you to get him out, take care of him, make sure he's seeing sunshine and eating enough." He cast a look over his shoulder, then leaned in, lowering his voice. "I'm planning on sending him back to regular school within the next few weeks, and I'd really like someone who hasn't been out of school too long there to help him."
Cas bit her lip, mulling over the information, the nodded. "Ok, then. How do I get to the study?"
Bruce was pouring over a folder, eyebrows drawn, mouth pulled into a tight frown. Upon hearing her heels booties against the floor, he looked up, face relaxing just in the slightest at the sight of her.
"Cassandra," he greeted, standing and sticking out his small hand. "How are you?"
Cas snorted, shaking his hand. "Bruce, it's Cas, or Cassie. The only person who stills calls me Cassandra is Jim when he's upset." She informed him jokingly as she sat down. Bracing her elbows against her knees, she picked up a thick, manilla folder that read Wayne. "And what are you up to today?"
"I'm reviewing my parent's case." He told her simply, like they were talking about the weather. "If I can assist your brother, then maybe we can find answers quicker."
Knowing that shutting the idea down would only backfire, Cassie nodded, glancing at the clock. "And how long have you been at it for?"
"I've been awake since six this morning."
Yikes, four hours of paperwork? That made her head hurt. With a quiet affirmation, she stood.
"Alright, come on."
Bruce looked up, face dropping in confusion. "What?"
"If you go any longer without a break, it's a proven fact that your brain will retain less and less information; trust me, I had the same idea in the first few months of my EMT training. I nearly failed out."
"So, what do you suggest?"
Cassie nodded to the window, where rare rays of sunshine were lighting up the massive grounds, and smirked. "How do you like soccer?"
Alfred's head perked up from where he was chopping vegetables for that night's stew; was that laughter? Who's?
Walking towards the window, he peered into the large backyard and his eyes widened.
Running across the lawn, completely barefoot, were Cassandra and Bruce, the two of them dodging each other and shrieking with laughter as they kicked a soccer ball. Bruce lunged to jump in front of the girl, but she danced to the side and swiped the ball between his legs, then slammed her own foot against it and sent it sailing over a jacket that was laying across the ground roughly six feet away.
He couldn't make out her words, but the older teen raised her hands above her head and whooped loudly, spinning in a circle before wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders and jokingly ruffling his hair. Bruce shoved her away, giggling madly, and sprinted after the ball.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he went back to his chopping, feeling somewhat lighter.
Maybe Master Bruce had been onto something.
After getting out of the manor that day, first thing Cassie did was call her supervisor and put in her notice. Not only was watching after Bruce going to be a substantial pay increase, it would actually be a job she saw herself enjoying. Childcare definitely wasn't easy, and dealing with an impending teen was even more difficult, but Cas was never one to shy away from a challenge.
She would arrive Monday's, Wednesday's, Friday's, and every other Saturday at eight every morning for the next few weeks, and would leave around five, (or later, if she wished). Once Bruce's school began, she would be picking him up every weekday, and would stay over on Monday's, Wednesday's, and Friday's. It was a great arrangement, and though he was a stoic man, Cas could tell that Alfred was eager for some assistance. He was a good man, but he clearly only understood tough love.
On her way home, she realized she was only about half a mile from the precinct; might be a good time to stop in and see how Jim was doing. She hadn't spoken to him since last night, which was weird. He normally checked up on her about halfway through the day.
Inside, she smiled and waved at Ed, who looked surprised, but returned it none the less. However, his eyes soon diverted to someone behind her, and Cas glanced over her shoulder to see a pretty looking redhead in horn-rimmed glasses walking towards a door labeled Forensics Annex.
A smile tugged at her lips, but she kept it down. She probably shouldn't give Ed away if he hadn't made his move yet. As she started for the stairs, she spotted Jim, leaning over his desk. The blonde shook her head and bounced up the steps, making sure to loudly announce her arrival.
"You know, for someone so young, you're going to end up with some serious spine problems if you don't stop slouching."
Jim looked up right as she leaned on his desk, arms folded. He could see happiness dancing in his little sister's blue eyes, meaning her interview at Wayne manor most likely went very well.
"You look happy." He noted tiredly, but with a smile. Her own widened, and she nodded.
"Yep. Thirty-five bucks an hour for a max of four days a week, Jim. That's money I only used to ever dream of."
He smiled at his sister's eagerness, and brought her into a hug, momentarily forgetting about his issue. "I'm glad, Cas. You deserve a break."
"Yeah, speaking of breaks," his sister noted, cocking an eyebrow as they seperated, "you've been awfully quiet. What's up?"
"Nothing."
"Jim." Her tone dropped, face sobering. "You sucked at keeping secrets when we were little, and you're terrible at it now. Out with it."
The detective looked around, double-checking that no one was within earshot, then leaned forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Cobbelpot is back."
Cassie's heart plummeted; she actually felt it hit her stomach, and all the blood drained from her face. "What?"
"He came by the apartment last night, Barbara was there. He didn't tell her anything," he cut his sister off, seeing her mouth open, "he just gave her a fake name. But I can tell she's suspicious."
"Why the hell is he here?" Cas hissed, fingers tightening over the edge of the desk. "Jim, if Falcone or Mooney find out you didn't kill him-"
"I know." He cut her off rather harshly, running his hand over his face, jaw set. "I know, ok." His voice softened. "Listen to me; I'm not sure if he knows that you know, but you need to be incredibly careful. Do you have your gun?"
Cas shuffled her bag inconspicuously, and Jim breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Ok, just make sure you're always watching behind you when you're driving home. Anything suspicious, anything at all, you call me immediately, alright? I don't know who else in the force can be trusted."
Both siblings jumped when the phone suddenly went off. Jim grabbed it, brining it to his ear as he shifted.
"Hello?"
Cas knew something was up by the way his face dropped. He leaned forward, grabbing a pen and scribbling onto a piece of paper within her view as he responded to whoever was speaking. "What do you want?" He shoved the paper towards her, two words scrawled out.
It's him.
She tried to lean forward, but Jim waved her off. She scowled, but didn't press, trying to read his expressions and responses. He glanced over to her as Cobbelpot was speaking, then spoke.
"Who's the target?" Long pause, forehead creasing in confusion. "All the councilmen are under police protection tonight." Another pause, shorter than the last, and a thoughtful look descended over his face, morphing to one of panicked realization. "How do you know this?" Now he just looked very confused, and pulled the phone away from his ear, hanging it up hesitantly.
"Jim?"
He turned to her, eyes wide. "Come with me; I'm going to need help."
He began speed walking away, and Cas jumped up, confused. But she followed, nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides as he stopped before the desk sergeant.
"I need a list of the officers working protection tonight."
The list was short, and nothing special, but it would appear that her brother had figured something out. She kept looking at him, expecting him to explain, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and called a number, cursing under his breath when he got voicemail. He looked back up at her.
"Let's go. I think I know who the next politician to be murdered is."
The car ride was short, but just long enough for him to explain. The guy who had been whacking the councilmen casting the Arkham vote was hitting both sides, meaning both Falcone and Maroni had hired him. Bruce had already told her everything about the plan, how it had been changed since his parent's death. The thought of the asylum reopening sent a chill down the girl's spine. She hadn't seen it in person, being only a toddler when it closed down, but she knew several nurses and medics who had worked there. The story's sounded like something out of a horror movie, and several were bad enough to cause her to lock the doors a night.
Jim had figured out who the next hit was: the head honcho himself, the mayor. It wouldn't surprise either Gordon in the slightest if Mayor James was with one of the don's, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered now was ensuring he lived long enough to cast a vote.
It had begun to pour, the sunshine from earlier in the day long gone. Cassie's shirt was soaked as soon as she stepped out of the car, rushing to check out one of the cruisers parked outside the mayor's home. Jim did, as well, but both looked back at each other with mounting dread. There wasn't even the barest sign of a protection detail aside from the cars.
"There's no one here!" Cassie spoke loudly over the rain, and Jim nodded, rushing up the steps. She followed him, looking over her shoulder several times. Jim pounded on the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The longer they waited, the more Cas could feel her muscles winding and coiling, ready to react at a moment's notice when someone showed up. Finally, the door opened, revealing a very confused Mayor James.
"Detective Gordon?" His gaze flitted to Cas, "Who is this?"
"Sir, there's no time to explain. You need to come with us, I think your life might be in danger."
"What? No, no, I'm not going anywhere, I've got police protection-"
"They're gone." Jim cut him off, gesturing to the cars.
"What?"
"Sir," Cas cut in, now feeling insanely impatient, "listen. Whoever killed those other two councilmen is coming for you, too. We need to get you some place safe."
As she spoke, both she and Jim grabbed the mayor's arm and started gently steering him inside. He made a comment about needing something from his safe, and Jim followed him. Cas pulled out her gun and stood by the door, occasionally checking the window.
Several minutes went by, and Cas paced by the door. What the hell was taking so long? Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears, and she started to walk forward when something stopped her.
What was that click?
Jim and the mayor suddenly came busting down the stairs, the latter holding a brown suitcase. "We're taking him to his sister's, let's go." The detective instructed her hurriedly, but as he opened the door, Cassie's eyes widened at the figure outside.
"J, watch out!"
Her brother jumped back just in time to avoid being stabbed. A man she could only assume was the killer busted through the door, lunging at them again. She went to fire a round, but he grabbed her wrist in one hand and slammed it harshly against the wall, knocking the derringer out of her hand as she grunted in pain. He slashed at her, and she narrowly dodged, slamming her knee into his gut.
"Cassie!" Jim shouted, but she waved him towards the stairs as the killer righted himself, already heading a different direction.
"Go, go!" She screamed, diving into the living room. Several shots went over her head as she ducked behind the couch, but luckily, none made contact. She stayed crouched upon hearing the killer begin running but realized in dismay that he was running towards Jim and the mayor, and he now had both guns.
Perfect.
She waited until the footsteps faded up the stairs, and slipped away, darting quietly down the hallway. Eventually, she happened upon the kitchen, and grabbed the first weapon she saw; a carving knife.
The stairs were clearly old, and as she started to go up them quietly, a gunshot made her jump, followed by a loud thump of a door hitting a wall. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she bolted up the stairs, knife clutched tightly in her hand.
The door to what appeared to be the mayor's office had been shot open, a large hole where the lock had originally been. She flew inside to see a much larger room with a wide selection of wooden chairs, eyes widening in horror as she saw Jim fighting a losing battle against the killer as the latter picked him up and pile-drived him into the ground. With a cry, she lunged forward and buried the knife into the man's back.
He howled in agony and turned, but she was already sending her fist towards his face. He was a contract killer for a reason, though, and caught it, twisting it to the side until she yelped and sending a knee into her own gut. She hit the floor, out of breath, as the man pulled the knife from his back with a grunt. Air was slowly filling up her lungs as he stabbed it downwards, and she rolled to the side, narrowly missing the blade, which slammed into the wood right where her neck had been. She came onto her back again and slammed her foot up into his crotch with a grunt, causing him to lose his grip on the knife, still in the floor.
At this point, Jim was back on his feet, and upon seeing the man over Cas, grabbed him with a growl and flung him into a wall behind the two. With the assailant distracted, the blonde snatched up the knife and stood, running towards them again. She aimed for his arm, intent to disarm him from the long cylinder in his hands that was shooting out something sharp, but he caught her arm and turned around, slamming his fist right between her eyes.
This time, she really went down. Her back met the floor, but black spots were already dancing before her eyes, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. For a second, the world darkened, and she shifted, fighting the dizziness as she heard Jim groan in pain.
Damn it, Cassie, get up! She shook her head, fighting to clear the blur, when a loud click interrupted her.
"Drop it!"
Harvey Bullock's voice had never filled her with so much relief, and Cas swallowed, taking a deep breath as the world began to shift back into focus.
"Drop or I'll shoot."
It was a struggle, but she pulled herself onto her elbows, watching hesitantly as the man backed away from Jim. She could still hear Harvey somewhere behind her, probably at the door, and Jim grabbed his own gun from the floor, looking towards his sister with an imploring look. She nodded, signaling she was injured, but alive.
The killer was now standing in between the Gordon's and about five feet away from the mayor, who was watching the whole thing with is brief case clutched in front of his chest. For several tense, angst-filled seconds, the assassin was silent, eyes flickering between the people in the room.
"You know why they hire a professional?" He suddenly asked in a deep voice. His eyes narrowed, then zeroed in on the mayor.
"Because he finishes the job."
Then he was lunging forward, weapon brandished, ready to drive the sharp spike right into the mayor. But both cops had the upper hand, now, and multiple bullets were suddenly pounding into the man's torso, forcing him back. He staggered, gasping, as blood bubbled from his chest, before he fell heavily onto his back and stilled.
With a soft groan, Cassie shifted towards him, fighting the dizziness that was threatening to push her onto her back again, and reached out a hand. She felt along every spot on his neck she knew where to look, but there was nothing. She looked back up at her brother.
"He's gone."
About an hour later, she sat perched on Jim's desk. A heat pack was pressed against her head as she waited for the pain killers the medic had given her to kick in. She had just watched Barbara storm out, the older woman merely nodding to her before leaving. She didn't need to be able to see her brother's face, standing above her on the top floor, to know what had happened.
She'd been asking about Cobblepot, again.
"Miss Gordon."
A stern voice interrupted her mulling, and she turned to see Captain Essen in front of her, hands on her hips.
"I know for a fact that I have instructed you not to show up at anymore crime scenes. You're a civilian, you can't be putting yourself in danger like this."
"I couldn't not go, ma'am." It was honestly a stupid answer, but it was stupidly honest, too. Essen cocked an eyebrow at her.
"And why's that?"
"Because when I stabbed that killer, when he was standing over my brother, I realized something. Jim is constantly running in head-first, it only makes sense there's someone at his back."
Essen paused, staring at the younger girl. She wasn't going to say it out loud, but the similarities between the siblings was almost disturbing. Same narrowed eyes, set jaw, creased forehead. They both slouched when concentrating, and even shared the same eye shade.
But there were noticeable differences. Jim just looked hardheaded and stubborn; you could see the lines in his forehead from stress, the tension in his neck and his shoulders, and he was obviously a guy who trained regularly to take down an assailant. The eldest Gordon was an obvious threat to anyone who tried to come at him.
Cassandra however was much different. She was about five-foot-seven and willowy; her arms and legs were covered in sinewy muscle, but whenever she was dressed in her traditional jackets and jeans, it was easy to simply mistake her for too skinny. Her face was pretty and delicate, with a very disarming smile and large, round eyes. But it was in those eyes, if you looked closer, you could see that fire. That ambition, that thirst, the fighter. The younger Gordon was like a rose; beautiful to the naked eye, but when you got too close, you saw, (or felt) the thorns.
And of course, God gave the world's most stubborn set of siblings to her.
"You're too damn smart for your own good, Cassandra." The older woman sighed, then shook her head. "Look, how about you start coming to me when you want to show up on cases, how does that sound?"
The answer made Cassie's chest inflate, and she straightened, nodding.
"That sounds wonderful, Captain."
Essen nodded, then walked away, shaking her head. "Damn Gordon's…"
The dark-haired woman walked away, heels clicking, and Cassie winced as she pressed the heat pack harder against her head, annoyed at the pain that was echoing through. She'd be out of commission for the next week or so because of the concussion, which meant low-impact activities with Bruce, and there was no way in hell she'd be able to help Jim and Harvey.
"Cassandra?"
The shy, familiar voice nearly startled her, and she turned quickly, wincing as the pain throbbed across her skull. Edward was standing off to her side, clutching a clipboard to his chest, brown eyes wide. As she smiled gently and greeted him, he stuttered.
"I, uh, I heard of your injury. I wanted to stop in and make sure that you were alright." He seemed incredibly nervous, but then again, Cas noticed that Eddie always seemed nervous. She smiled wider at him and nodded slowly, motioning to her heat pack.
"Yeah, he had a pretty mean right hook, but don't worry, Ed. I'll be back on my feet in no time." She reassured him lightly, and his own smile grew as he nodded.
"Well, I am very glad to hear that, Cassandra. I will leave you to your healing." He quickly began to walk off, but Cas stopped him.
"Hey, Ed?" Upon seeing him turn, she nodded. "You can't keep calling me Cassandra; all my friends call me Cassie or Cas."
"Cassie," he repeated, looking surprised, then delighted. "Friend. Right, uh, Cassie."
Exchanging one more friendly smile, the man walked off, and Cas licked her lips. He was a strange one, that was for sure.
One week.
She'd been laid up at home for one week and everything went straight to shit.
Was that a new record? It felt like a new record. During her recovery time several events had occurred that spiked her blood pressure and caused her to text her brother nearly every hour, inquiring into his and his partners wellbeing. They both repeated that they were fine, but she couldn't stop herself from having nightmares that ended in finding her brother's mangled, bloody body.
That new drug, Viper, had hit the streets hard enough to leave a serious dent. She'd been checking in with some old friends, and their trucks had been overrun with new patients, all dying horrible and inevitable deaths brought on by the new drug. There was no real cure; not much could bring back that much calcium, at least not in the amount of time the person still had left. She'd seen some ugly things since working as a first responder, but this easily made her top five list.
Cobblepot was causing Jim more than trouble, now. It was outright dangerous at this point, and no amount of begging from Cas was convincing him to leave. She'd even tried using Barbara and her safety to convince him, but it would appear that his fiancée's departure did little but motivate him more.
So, Cassie stayed. She was losing sleep and had constant headaches, but she stayed.
Work at Wayne Manor was fine, if not a little challenging at times. Bruce seemed to be burying himself deeper and deeper into his quest for vengeance. If Cassie was being totally honest, it concerned her deeply to see such a young man grow so reserved. Alfred agreed with her, and once her shift was over, the two adults would meet and attempt to decide what to do with him. However, they always seemed to come to the same conclusion: don't push him. He's stubborn, he's determined, let him learn his own lessons and gain his own confidence.
The talks with the butler were becoming less and less about business, and more and more about casual things. She'd even go so far as to call the man a friend. He was stern, but he was also hilarious, with an incredibly dry sense of humor. Once you got him out of his professional shell, he was actually incredibly friendly.
Things would have been better, per say, for the siblings if Falcone and Mooney didn't know that Penguin was, in fact, still alive. And since he'd decided to drag Maroni into the thick of it, the siblings now found themselves in the middle of a little tug-of-war. Jim had told her he'd done everything in his power to ensure none of the bosses knew of her involvement, but both Gordon's knew that wouldn't last too long.
And it didn't.
Her day started off normal; it was Thursday, meaning she was off work. She'd gotten up early, trained on her own a little bit, and she had just finished getting ready when her phone went off.
Cassie couldn't be too sure why, but before she even looked at the phone, she knew it was her brother.
And she was right.
"Cassie! Cassie, listen to me-" his panicked voice cut off with a loud groan of pain, and she felt her heart drop.
"Jim, what the hell-"
"Cas, listen to me very carefully. Falcone and Mooney sent a hitman after me, he's well known. His name is Victor Zsasz. He threatened you several times, they know where you live."
Her stomach dropped, her blood ran cold. The hair on the back of her neck immediately stood up, and her head whipped around, searching for a threat before she was running towards the front door to lock it as Jim continued.
"You need to get out; Montoya and Allen rescued me. We're on our way to get you right now, so get out of the apartment, but stay close, ok?"
"Ok, got it. Corner of Wesler and Washington, I'll be behind the blue dumpster."
"I'll be there soon. And, Cassie?"
She paused her movements of shoving her things into her messenger bag, breathing picking up.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from all of this." He paused, "This isn't the life I wanted you to have."
"J, I've already told you," Cas responded, voice growing firm, "I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing, and when I say I'm staying, I'm staying. Now, don't get all weepy on me, you moron, cause I'm going to see you in-"
She wasn't sure what happened first; the dial tone of the call failing, or blackness engulfing her apartment.
It was frighteningly still. The silence and the darkness combined sent a chill down her spine, and the hair on her arms and on the back of her neck stood on end. Azure blue eyes flitted around, then she brought the phone back up to her ear
"Jim?"
Nothing.
Of course they have a fucking cell phone jammer.
Slowly, she flipped the phone shut, but slid it into the back pocket of her jeans; who knew when she'd be able to use it again. Her heart was beginning to pound, but she fought to keep her breathing silent, stepping one foot slowly in front of the other as she walked down the hall towards the kitchen.
The only light was coming from the window just over the sink, but since her apartment was a basement and they were located under the freeway, it wasn't much. There were no other sounds around her, save for her quiet, fast breathing and the floorboards creaking underneath her bare feet. Since the heat had also been cut off, she was left in her black tank top and ripped jeans. Goosebumps rose on her skin, from the cold or from fear, she couldn't be sure. Sliding towards the table, she reached under it, fingers feeling for the hatch she'd used to store her 9mm underneath, but froze when she felt an undone latch, hanging freely.
He'd taken her gun.
The only other one she had was stored in her car, outside, and there was almost twenty feet of space between her and the door, followed by another fifteen to reach her car. Would she actually make it in time?
She didn't have many other options. With a deep breath, her muscles wound tightly, and her heels raised off the floor, ready to sprint to safety-
-and then the door to the pantry was flying open.
She dove out of the way just in time; a figure came at her, knife glinting in the pale light, and a hand narrowly missed her arm as she ducked and rolled across the kitchen, coming to stand in the doorway to the halls.
It was at this time that the lights came back on, nearly blinding her, and she was greeted with a very un-welcoming sight.
A man; late twenties, maybe a little older. He was pale, and completely bald, as well as missing any possible hair on his face. He was clad completely in black, a color that seemed to contrast sharply with his skin, and his wide, gray eyes were gleaming with a dark excitement, lips turned up into a smirk.
"So, this is the little Gordon." He taunted lowly, but Cassie didn't respond, merely watching his movements. He chuckled, shaking his head.
"Sorry about the lights," he motioned over them, "I had one of my friends turn them out; you were supposed to turn your back to the pantry and give me a chance to drug you, but," he pulled a syringe out of his pocket, filled with about five milliliters of clear liquid, "I won't lie; this looks like much more fun."
"Stay the fuck away from me."
"Aw, now, don't be that way, Cassie. May I call you Cassie?"
"No."
"Anyway, Cas, here's how this game is going to go: I will allow you to choose one weapon around you. It can be a knife, a plate, a baseball bat, I don't care. But you have five seconds to grab it, and then we begin."
Her eyes flew around the room, a sense of urgency rising in her as her heart pounded, blood rushing in her ears. Just as the blue orbs fell on the iron skillet she'd been using a few days ago, his voice reached her ears.
"Three, two, one."
She lunged, hand outstretched for the skillet, as he came at her. He moved at nearly an impossible speed, hands outstretched to grab her and lock her in, but her fingers enclosed around the skillet's handle and she swung, aiming right for his head. He was just as quick, though, and jumped back, the edge whizzing by his face with an inch left to spare. He was moving forward again, grabbing her wrist in a tight grip and twisting it downward. The movement made her yelp and drop her weapon, but she threw her head back and then forward, feeling her crown meet his cheekbone. He was knocked back, grunting, and his grip loosened just long enough for her to yank her hand away and backpedal, bracing her hands onto the counter and jumping, slamming both feet into his torso. His back met the table and she turned on her heel, bolting back towards her room. She didn't make it halfway down the hall when a hand tangled in her hair, and she shouted, reaching back to claw at his wrist and hand. Her back met his chest, and she flinched away from his voice, close enough to feel his breath, panting hard against her skin.
"You're fast."
"Get fucked." She ground out, then slammed her elbow back. It hit him in his solar plexus, right between the ribs, and she felt all the breath in his lungs move across her neck and shoulders as she turned, twisting his own hand and slamming her foot into his gut. It hit a second time, but he recovered faster than she expected, and he pulled back, yanking his hand from her grip and shooting a jab at her jaw. She ducked, uppercutting, but he blocked it, and then she turned, roundhouse kicking at his chest. He blocked that, too, but this time kept a grip on her leg and swung her, her shoulder blades meeting the wall of the hallway with painful thud! his hand wrapped around her throat, and she gasped, grabbing at his wrist and the hand on her leg. He was squeezing, harder and harder, eyes darkening with sick pleasure as he watched her struggle. She finally let go of the hand on her leg and shot it out, feeling around the wall. Her fingers brushed against a familiar, ornate finish, and she grasped the picture, yanking it from the wall and slamming it into Victor's head with everything she had.
He cried out and stumbled away, releasing her as the glass from the frame shattered over his skull and broad shoulders. Oxygen flood her lungs, but she pushed past the desperation to sit back and breathe and bolted forward, back the way she came, towards the front door. But his hand wrapped around her ankle, and she pitched forward, grunting in pain as she smacked onto the floor beneath her. Flipping onto her back, she shot out foot towards his head, but he dodged, wrapping an arm around her leg. Twisting, she grabbed his arm and wriggled into a chokehold, attempting to force him onto the ground with both legs on either side of his head and his arm between her thighs. He was strong, though, much stronger than her. He began to lift her, and desperate not to lose her edge, she kept a hold on him until she was almost a foot off the ground.
And then he slammed her harshly into the floor.
A pained gasp/cry left her lips, and she tried desperately to suck in a breath as he rolled on top of her, his hand enclosing around her throat, a knife appearing in his hand. At the sight of the weapon, her eyes widened and her hands wrapped around his wrist, squeezing and pulling desperately. He only seemed to find her struggling funny, though, and actually began to laugh.
"Hot damn," he chuckled, still breathing hard from their fight, "I didn't expect this much of a fight. I expected some screaming, a kitchen knife, maybe throwing some books and trying to crawl through a window, but," he shook his head, eyes staring down at her with an expression she didn't really want to read into, "you are really something, aren't you, Cassie Gordon?"
"Don't call me that." She snarled, clawing at the skin underneath his sleeve, but it didn't even faze him. He shrugged, then slipped the knife back into his coat, withdrawing the syringe. She struggled harder, but he was twice her size. It wasn't much of a fight on the floor, not in this position.
Victor watched her, syringe poised in his hand, as she squirmed underneath him. Her hair was spread around her, wild curls and waves. Her lips were drawn back into a snarl, nails digging into his wrist, and two ocean blue eyes were attempting to burn two holes into his face. He let out a final, breathy chuckle, then shrugged.
"Well, I'm sure your brother will be very happy to see you."
It was the last thing she heard before a sharp prick flared through the left side of her neck, and her limbs suddenly weighed a million pounds. Her movements became sluggish, and she tried to shout, but she just couldn't make her lips move correctly. Her eyelids drooped, and she fought to keep them open, but Victor Zsasz's smirking face was the last thing she saw before she was fully gone.
Falcone's house could have rivaled Wayne Manor; it was massive, with a large backyard and a long, gravel driveway. Of course, she couldn't see anything past the gates and she couldn't remember driving onto the property.
Cassie sat in a chair, hands bound in front of her. Rain continued to pour outside, and the chill seemed to permeate the house, going straight into her bones. Still only clad in a tank top and jeans, she glowered up at the man in front of her, who stood, watching her carefully.
"You look like your mother, Cassandra," Carmine Falcone told her warmly, "she was a good woman, with a kind heart. When I first met you, I thought you to be soft spoken, like her. But," he shook his head, "it would appear you are mostly like your father, and your brother, for that matter." He looked over towards Victor, who stood much too close to Cas for her liking. The bald man had a rather large bruise on his head from where she'd smacked him with the picture frame, yet he hadn't stopped staring at the blonde, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Victor tells me you put up quite a fight."
"You thought I'd just cry and beg because your dog here was carrying a knife?" The words were sharp as a blade and soaked with venom, but neither man flinched. In fact, they both smiled, and Falcone chuckled.
"No, I did not expect that from you. In fact, I sent Victor for that very reason; I expected some resistance on your part. But, Cassandra," he leaned forward, "you need to understand. Jim failed to complete a very important task. The fact that he not only failed, but outright rebelled, shows me that he cannot be trusted. You understand, don't you?"
Cassie stayed quiet, keeping her glare on her face. She didn't understand, not in the slightest, and she didn't want to. All she cared about was making sure both she and her brother would be alive tomorrow, that was it.
"Your brother's fiancée," Falcone's next words caused her muscles to tense, and she raised her eyes back to his in shock, unable to keep her face from dropping as he continued. "Barbara Kean, right? She's in the sitting room as of right now, begging for his life, and yours."
"No, don't-" she started to protest, sitting forward, but Victor's hand came down on her shoulder, squeezing tightly. She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Look, she doesn't know, ok? Jim made me swear not to tell her anything, so she's useless to you. Just let her go."
"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't, but then again, even if I did have proof, would you believe me?"
Her answer seemed to amuse him, and he paused, but then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Cassandra. But we've got our enemy's sister and fiancée within our grasp, I can't just let one go." He nodded at Victor, "Take her back to her room."
Cassie's lips parted in horror, and she started to struggle as Zsasz yanked her none-too-gently to her feet, beginning to pull her out of the room. "No! No, let go of me! Barbara!" She screamed louder, trying to get the older woman to hear her, "Barbara, run! Run, don't look back, he's lying, he won't help you!"
But Victor had had enough, and he stooped down, yanking her over his shoulder and carrying her through the door, her shouts fading as she was carried back to her prison.
Cassie couldn't be too sure how long she sat in that room. She'd been told that they'd let her back out whenever Jim showed up, hopefully it was soon. She wasn't beaten or roughed up, but unfortunately, she knew she couldn't say the same for Barbara. The woman's shouts of pain carried through the walls, making her pound on the wall, shouting for them to come for her. But she had unfortunately shown them everything she knew, and they no longer had any interest in her.
There wasn't even a clock in her small prison, so she simply sat on the floor, attempting to stay calm, attempting to come up with a plan. Windows? Sealed shut, and she was on the third floor, so all she'd get was a broken ankle at the very least. Door? Deadbolted from the outside and well-guarded. Phone? Missing. Weapons? None, the room was completely bare. She could attempt to fight hand-to-hand, but seeing as everyone else in the mansion was armed to the teeth, maybe that wasn't the best idea.
It was raining outside, as per usual, and it was making it difficult to judge the time of day. She was guessing sometime around ten in the morning, maybe eleven. Her window faced the back of the house, so she couldn't even see someone coming up the driveway.
It didn't last much longer, though, when the locks on the door began to click. Cas shot to her feet, muscles tense, as the last deadbolt unlatched and the door swung open, revealing her least favorite person on Earth.
"Alright, Cassie," Victor announced smugly, "your big bro's here to pick you up." His hand clamped down on her arm, and began to drag her out of the room. She squirmed uncomfortably at their proximity, but she could practically feel the satisfaction coming off of Zsasz from the action, so she did her best to keep her movements to a minimum. They went through a twisting maze of halls that she couldn't even bother to remember when they finally passed through a door, and she saw in shock who was waiting for her.
Falcone stood in front of the small, ragtag group. Jim was standing close to Barbara, whose hands were bound in front of her. At the sight of his sister, his face lost its color, and Cas tried to move towards him, but Victor pulled her closer again, this time keeping her back flush against his chest. Her appearance brought Harvey to his feet, who looked equally startled. Shockingly enough, Mayor James stood off to the side, sweating and looking very freaked out. Cas resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Coward.
"Ok, so, they definitely weren't bluffing." Harvey concluded out loud, and Jim turned back to Falcone as the older man began speaking.
"I told you, she is unharmed. She put up quite the fight with Victor, though, James. It should make you proud, he normally isn't so challenged with his assignments. Now," the old man took a deep breath, "What am I going to do with you?" He pondered softly, a hand raised to his chin, looking thoughtful. "By right's, you have to die."
Cassie felt Victor's breathing speed up in excitement, and his hands tightened on her arms, as if the thought of killing her was going vividly through his mind right then. Jim glared at the man holding his sister, Harvey attempting to edge closer, as he turned back to Falcone. At the crime bosses thought, the mayor jumped, stuttering.
"Woah, hello, um, late for work!" He stumbled out, then practically ran from the room. "I'll be on my way."
"It's such a waste, though," Falcone mused, "Gotham needs men like you, both of you. Strong men, with principals. I wish I could make you see I'm not the enemy, the system is not the enemy. The enemy is anarchy."
Cassie attempted to keep her breathing steady, watching the scene carefully, but with uncertainty as the suited man continued.
"But I told you that before, didn't I, Jim?"
"Yes, you did." Jim remarked lowly, watching with wary eyes.
"And you didn't listen." Falcone paused for a beat. "But today; today, you believed me. And I think that's a step in the right direction."
The air was so thick with a tension, you could have cut it with a bread knife. Cassie's breathing sped up, almost syncing with Victor's as he pressed her harder against his chest, his fingers wrapped tightly around her arms like binds. She could feel his chin on top of her shoulder, and her eyes flickered towards Jim, who kept glancing towards her as Harvey got closer and closer.
"Yes." Falcone's voice nearly made her jump, but she turned back to him in shock. "Yes; go, before I change my mind."
Victor's hands tightened to the point of pain on her arms, and she felt a growl rumble in his chest. "Wait a minute-"
"Quiet." Falcone ordered firmly, and Cas was actually quite shocked when the hitman obeyed. But his grip on her did not let up as the crime boss stepped closer to Barbara.
"It's been a pleasure, Barbara. I do admire a brave woman." His eyes flicked to Cassie and Victor. "Let her go, Victor."
"But I told you I wanted to keep this one-"
"And now I'm telling you to let her go." Falcone's voice dropped a few degrees, and bruises began to form on Cas's arms as Harvey and Jim stepped closer, ready to snatch her from Zsasz's grasp. He puffed out a breath of annoyance, then leaned in closer, causing her to flinch as his lips nearly touched her ear.
"I'll be seeing you again real soon." He whispered giddily, then threw her towards her brother. Jim caught her, wrapping her into a tight hug and quickly looking over her person for injuries before turning to Falcone.
"What's the catch?"
"Jim, he said we could go. Let's not haggle here." Harvey reminded his partner, standing half in front of Cas. But the oldest Gordon would not be deterred. He stepped closer, face dark.
"What's the catch, Mr. Falcone?"
"I want you to think about what I said; I want you to understand the truth. That's all I ask." Falcone instructed simply, and even Cassandra felt doubt flare through her. That was way too simple, and after they'd threatened him with not only arrest, but with death most likely?
Something was definitely wrong.
"The catch is," Falcone continued, "someday soon, you'll see I'm right."
A few days later, she was back in Wayne Manor, waiting for Alfred and Bruce to arrive home. Jim and Harvey were investigating some big investor that apparently was forcing his newest employees to fight out in a bullpen who would get the job. It was brutal, but that wasn't what had her concerned. It was Jim.
Jim had always been a fighter, from the time they were children, all the way up until now. His time in the middle east haunted him, she could tell, and it was cases lie this that had her worried. It didn't take much to trigger PTSD, and his nightmares had always been particularly brutal.
So, after Alfred had called ahead and asked her to order a pizza, she called Harvey, tapping the desk impatiently with her finger as the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Harvey," she breathed out, running a hand through her hair, "look, Jim hasn't checked in with me in a while, are you with him? Is he safe?"
The older mans pause did little to easer her anxiety, and the next ones made it worse. "He went off to investigate some more about Richard Sionis, the investment banker we're looking into. He hasn't been back, we're all tracking down leads right now."
Her fucking blood pressure was going to kill her before anything in this town. Cursing, she bit her lip, scratching hard at her neck. "Shit, Harvey…"
"I know, but I promise you, Cas, I'm going to bring him home, ok? I'm looking out for him, I promise."
The blonde nodded, her eyes burning. "Thank you, Harvey. Um, look, I'm at work right now, but call me back the second you get some news, ok?"
"You got it, baby Gordon."
Alfred and Bruce arrived home not long after that, the two of them looking happy and excited. She did her best to force back her anxiety, chiding the two of them upon seeing the young boy's bruised knuckles. But she couldn't deny some pride swelling her chest at the thought of Bruce taking out a bully, older and bigger than he was. After wrapping his hand, she went back into the kitchen to get some pizza.
"Your brother is lucky, you know." Alfred's voice made her jump unintentionally, and her head whipped towards his voice to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her carefully. "Don't misinterpret my meaning, he's a great man, but a very impulsive young lad, isn't he?"
Cas snorted, pouring herself some more Coke. "Trust me, you have no idea."
As she set the bottle down, her short sleeve rode up, and Alfred stepped forward to grab her wrist gently. Turning, she saw him looking at her arm with narrowed eyes.
Zsasz's grip had left her with two handprint-shaped bruises, one on each arm. They were painful, and not fun when getting dressed or accidentally bumping into someone, but they worked. Alfred shook his head, looking…angry?
"Are you sure it's a good idea, miss, to be getting mixed up in all this?"
"Jim's my brother," she reminded him sternly, gently pulling her wrist free, "and he's been looking out for me since I was born. I figured, if anything, I could return the favor."
The butler shook his head, then sighed. "Alright, well, next time you find yourself between a knife and a contract killer, you call someone, yeah?"
Cas cocked her head to the side, smiling teasingly. "Awww, you mean like you, Alfred?"
The gray-haired man straightened, trying to appear nonchalant. "If it comes to that, yes."
Cas's smile widened a little, and she put a hand on his arm. "Tell you what; next time the mob is after me, I'll give you a call, ok?"
Awwww, look at Cassie and Alfred, becoming friends. I'm so excited for their friendship, I've got so much planned! I hope you guys liked this chapter, and I'll hopefully be seeing you soon!