Cassandra stopped grappling when she finally passed into Gotham's suburbs. She stopped for a few breaths on the roof of an elementary school and sat against one of its heating vents. It was a chilly fall evening, her sweat would make the cold worse soon enough.
Some static filled one of her ears for a moment before Bruce's voice came in clear again. "Angel? Angel can you hear me? What have I told you about switching the audio off when it isn't necessary? I spoke with Batgirl, I know it isn't—"
Cassandra pulled the headset out of her ear and flicked it aside. There would be hell to pay from Bruce later for abandoning her assignment, ignoring him and damaging his equipment, but she gave it little thought. The feeling that welled up inside, though she had no name for it, had grown ever more familiar. Sadness with no tears, a pain in her stomach that had nothing to with food and goosebumps up her arms. The time her neck had been bitten and sucked on back in the movie theater by that girl she mentally refused to name was the first experience, and it had kept coming back to haunt her ever since.
She'd been merciful to the opponent whose sole reason to exist was to kill her. He didn't go through a change of heart. Her pity only earned her a broken leg, months of wasted time and an alliance that was kidnapping people all over the city.
What did Stephanie know about what she was going through? She'd cast off her purity before the two had ever even met, and she'd dragged Tim down with her. The girl from before didn't respect what Cassandra wanted or needed. The church, the lord was waiting for her when she came to terms with her failures. Gram assured her of the better way to live her life. Monsignor Ryan said she had done the right thing. Her sins had been cleansed, it was her duty to ensure she not allow herself to be tempted again.
Cassandra glanced at the headset. There was a tracker within, she knew it. There were probably more on her body somewhere, but at least that one was out of the way. Bruce or Stephanie would probably catch up with her, given some more time. She rose from where she sat and returned to the streets.
Wherever she could grapple, she did, but most of her movements were by foot. The earlier fight and the stress of the argument took their toll. Cassandra was tired, but she didn't want to go home where Bruce would demand what had come over her, just like Stephanie had. Two miles from the school there was a tiny, family-owned convenience store. It was closed for the evening, but maybe there would be another heater on the roof.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but she'd spent most of her life sleeping outdoors and scrounging for any protection she could find. One more night that way wouldn't mean much and it was better than the alternative.
Cassandra pulled her legs close to her body for warmth. There were hundreds of reasons falling asleep in public in her uniform was a terrible idea. She didn't care about any of them. She shut her eyes and quickly nodded off.
"Mau. Maaaau. Mroooooow."
Somehow, Cassandra knew she shouldn't have been able to hear the sound, but she did. She rose slowly, the position seemed like it took its toll on her bones and muscles. At the edge of the rooftop Cassandra looked toward the ground. She didn't know what time it was, but the night was very dark. The tiny creature that woke her, a white and gray cat, stood out in the shadow of the store.
Cassandra sighed and stepped back toward the heater before the cat began to whine again. She almost ignored it, but as the animal continued to yowl, she sighed and decided if it had woken her once, it might do so again.
She looked down from the rooftop and motioned with her hand. "Go."
"Mrow."
"Shoo."
"Mau. Mrow. Maaaaaau."
Cassandra took a deep inhale and sigh as she slowly descended the rooftop and approached the white and gray cat. With one step too close she recoiled.
"What?"
The shadows had hidden the animal's condition. One of its back thighs looked to be stained red with fresh blood, and as she approached it leaned backwards and licked a messy stump where a tail had once been. As she approached it, the cat ran from her, clearly disoriented by its leg injury and lack of tail, but fast nonetheless. It stopped a few yards away and Cassandra reached into her belt for something to wrap up the bleeding with. As she approached the cat again with a roll of bandages, it gain bounded off, but stopped before it was out of view. Cassandra frowned, but the possibility reached her after a few seconds. It seemed as if the cat wanted her to follow it.
She picked up the pace and followed the wounded animal as it struggled to stay on a straight path and occasionally yowled to ensure it still had her attention. As she followed, she soon took note of the little darkened spots on the sidewalk. The cat had bled for some time, and seemed to have walked to the convenience store in search of help. But it seemed totally disinterested in help for itself. It was leading her.
After two blocks the cat struggled for a few steps and slipped over, still disoriented by its missing tail. Cassandra caught up with it as the gray, white and red little creature pushed back up.
"Let me see." Cassandra tried to hold the cat, but it yowled and struggled in protest. "Please," she said. "Hurt. Let me help."
Despite the cat's very vocal protests, it did not try to bite or scratch her, even as she wrapped up its injured leg. All the cat cared about was continuing to move and that Cassandra was following close behind. The cat led her three blocks, stopped in front of a two story house and yowled again and again in its direction.
Cassandra looked back and forth between the house and the cat and tried to figure what it wanted. Maybe the cat lived there and wanted to get back inside. But that didn't explain its injuries or the blood. Maybe the people inside were the ones who attacked it. But it seemed very bizarre the cat would lead her back. Was it expecting her to take revenge for it? As she squinted, she noticed something strange. The large, wooden front door of the house was clearly open on the inside, the screen door was all that was between the street and the house. She didn't know what it meant, it ordinarily wouldn't be worth investigation, she didn't want to invade anyone's house. But something about the cat and its injury compelled her. In her gut, she felt something was very, very wrong.
The cat remained outside as she pushed open the screen door and slipped inside. The house was barely illuminated, lit only by a television one room over, the moonlight that showed through the windows and a tiny glow from a room on the second floor. From the room next to her there came a faint but audible buzz.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Angel almost ran when she recognized someone on a recliner in the room next to her. But she paused at the buzzing noise, which he realized came from the television, which held on dark static. Angel stepped closer, cringed as she inhaled and had to swallow her rising gorge. The person seated was a heavyset woman with dark skin, her curly hair covered her downturned face. The source of the smell had to be the thick, dark liquid that seeped down her neck into her clothing. Angel looked toward the couch, a lighter-skinned man sat in a similar position, with his head leaned against the back of his seat, his beard partially covered his slit throat.
Angel turned toward the tiny light on the second floor. She didn't know if the killer was still in the house, but given his crazed nature, he may have been waiting for her. The TV was switched off and she ascended the staircase. In the silence, inhalation and exhalation was faintly audible. The demon waited in the room with the light, Angel was sure of it. She sidled against the wall on the opposite side of the opening and inched toward the room. Angel would not face him until she knew he had no means of escape.
As she crept toward the room, features became distinguishable. A huge, stuffed rabbit sat in one corner. Next to it was a small bookcase. The tiny glow seemed to shine from a child's nightlight somewhere on the opposite side of the room. Most importantly, there didn't appear to be any windows to escape through.
Angel stood against the door. Her heart still raced as she slid against the door. With all of her control, she slid just one eye inside. He was only very faintly illuminated, but the yellow of the night light made the blood on his hands and shirt almost twinkle. Behind him were a pile of blankets over a mound. Angel couldn't see if it was breathing or not.
"I see you."
Angel froze. Tiny strands of blonde hair poked through his shaved head. His body was covered in scars, tiny vertical and diagonal marks, dozens of them. He stared at her with his sunken eyes as she had gazed into the room with. Victor Zsasz raised a hand and curled a finger.
"Come in." Zsasz's voice was somehow both gentle and empty at the same time. "Quiet now." On his unilluminated side, he raised a bloodied knife and pointed it toward the mound of blankets. "Don't wake the girl, she only just fell asleep. I wouldn't want to send her back."
Though she hadn't made up her mind, Angel slowly pushed open the door. The two came face to face and a smile spread across Zsasz's mouth.
"Oh, it's you. I'm very glad it's you. I heard talk you're a Catholic, is that true, little Angel?"
She said nothing.
"I wanted to settle a question. With myself, really. But I need to know for sure before I ask it."
Angel stared at the knife and the mound behind Zsasz. His eyes remained fixed on her, for the moment, any sneaky tactic seemed out of the question.
"I can tell," Zsasz said. "Oh yes, I can tell." He paused and cleared his throat. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with—"
Angel fought back the shout as much as she was able. "Quiet!"
"I knew it." Zsasz giggled a little. "I knew it. Only a good Catholic girl would know to be so disgusted. Who's your patron saint, girl?"
"… What do you want?"
"I want to know your saint," Zsasz said. "Would you like to know mine?"
Angel clenched her fists.
"George, that dragon slayer from Old England. Slayed a monster with only a lance and the will of God." Zsasz paused a moment, as if lost in his memories. "I'd play Saint George when I was alone. The children in the fifth grade class kept an iguana as a pet. He was almost as big as I was then. I decided he could play the part of my dragon."
Angel began to shake. It took all of her force to keep her in place. She wanted to silence his crazed babble, but he was still too close to the girl under the covers. One wrong move and he would kill her. Patience was what mattered most.
"Do they still teach that the unbaptized go to Hell, little angel?" Zsasz looked down at the mound under the blankets. "I can't tell what these people believed in. Do you think that's a sign? A holy family would be proud, wouldn't they? So I guess they weren't."
The room went silent from Angel's perspective, save for Zsasz and the pounds of her heart against her chest.
"Maybe they repented just as they were dying. That's what I'm going to do." Zsasz slowly lifted the blade toward his face, as if took at his reflection. "I always thought God led me here, but if he didn't, at least there's always an easy fix. At least—"
A batarang flew. Zsasz shouted, opened his hand and the knife fell out of his hand. Angel closed the distance between them, took hold of one of Zsasz's arms and flipped him off the bed. The killer hit the ground with a crash and groaned. Angel tore the blankets off the mound.
Then she recoiled in horror.
"I told her to be quiet." Zsasz pushed back to his feet. "She was too loud. I didn't want to cut her, she wouldn't have stopped."
Her hair looked like it had been recently braided, she'd fallen asleep in a pink shirt decorated with multicolored ponies. The little girl, no older than maybe eight, laid cross eyed, lips slightly open. Even with only the faint glow of the night light, Angel could see they weren't the right color.
"It didn't take long. The little thing tired out very quickly."
Angel ripped off a glove and pressed her hand the child's neck. She felt nothing. Angel leaned down and put an ear to the child's chest. She heard nothing.
"I remember now," Zsasz said. "I had a question for you. I just thought the mother was a fat person. But now I think she was actually pregnant."
The shakes through Angel's body turned to shudders. She turned very slowly to face Zsasz. She knew what she intended to do, her body just hadn't caught up with her mind yet.
"That's four tally marks instead of three, wouldn't you agree?"
From Zsasz's perspective, Angel moved like a white blur. The first hook smashed into him with enough force it felt like every tooth his mouth rattled. Zsasz fell backwards into the threshold of the girl's room. He expected another strike, but wasn't prepared for it when Angel kicked him in the face as he began to push up again. Unable to rise, Zsasz scrambled backward like a crab.
"No."
It was all Angel could say.
As Zsasz tried to retreat into the darkness, Angel grabbed him by his shoulders, forced him upward and threw him into the opposite wall. For a moment Zsasz saw tiny silver lights. The next punch busted his nose wide open. The one after that knocked out two his teeth. Another forced them down his throat. Even after his years against Gotham's finest, Zsasz could sense something was different. Angel threw him to the ground and flung kicks from his stomach to his face. When he rolled over to his back, she jumped and stomped on his chest. For the first time, Zsasz screeched in agony. Bits of his sternum splintered, the killer threw up his head and threw up blood.
Zsasz was defeated. He'd been defeated minutes before. Angel bent down, grabbed him by his throat and dragged him toward the staircase. He turned as best he was able, saw the faint light that shown through the screen door and tried to grab and scratch at her arms. Zsasz shouted in bloody nonsense to beg for mercy, but Angel gave it no consideration. She gripped him with both hands and threw him down the staircase.
His body tumbled downward, bones within his arms and legs cracked as Zsasz rolled down, his head faced the screen upon final impact. His skull rattled in his brain. As he struggled to retain focus over his concussion, he gazed out the window. The gray and white cat whose tail he'd cut glared at him through the screen and hissed. When Angel descended upon him, Zsasz couldn't even remember what has happened.
Something within Angel said she had done enough. That she was only supposed to bring Zsasz in and ensure he was put away. She ignored it and laid both hands on Zsasz's throat.
The feeling was familiar, even if she didn't know why. Angel yanked Zsasz off the floor by the neck and throttled him. For a few seconds, he struggled and tried to push her off. It didn't take long for his arms to fall to his side. Something tried to push up Zsasz's throat, but Angel gripped it too tight for it to slip through. Even with the limited light, she could see his face begin to change color.
"Angel!"
She looked up very slowly. Batgirl opened the screen door and stood just before her.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Angel glared for a moment, then looked back toward Zsasz.
"Are you choking him?" Batgirl rushed in and grabbed her shoulders. "Cut it out! He can't breathe!"
Angel's voice broke as if her rage and heartbreak melded together. "Neither could she!"
Batgirl took ahold Angel from behind and pulled. "Angel stop! You don't want this—"
"Need it!" Angel screamed. "He deserves it!"
"Cassie, stop it!" Batgirl pulled hard enough to force Angel to relinquish her grip.
The fury overtook her. Angel twisted around and thrust her palm into Batgirl's face. She screamed and grabbed her nose as blood seeped through her fingers. Angel attacked Zsasz with an ascended rage. She curled her fingers around his throat and clenched as hard as she could. Angel didn't feel it when she crushed his larynx.
She sensed nothing when she jerked his head back and forth.
She didn't even hear the crack.
But the moment came. All of Zsasz's struggles ceased. She stopped strangling a man, she wasn't even holding a killer. In one moment, her rage and hate burned out. She felt what the corpse felt. She felt nothing.
Every muscle in Angel's body loosened. Her mouth slipped open and its shakes were the only part of her body that moved. Darkness consumed her. When it returned, she was a child. Her hands, her pink dress, everything was covered in blood. Every goosebump on her body stood up, but she still couldn't feel a thing.
Angel retuned to reality when Batgirl yanked her off again. As soon as her mind returned to her, she collapsed. It took Batgirl a moment to realize what was happening, but after a few seconds of weeping, Angel screamed and fell against her.
Cassandra cried into Stephanie's chest. When Stephanie saw her body had gone slack, she held her as she wept and brushed against her head. Blood wet Stephanie's hands and face, but neither acknowledged it.
"God." Cassandra choked on a breath and struggled to speak. "I… I didn't… I didn't mean to."
Stephanie could think of nothing to say. She couldn't even imagine anything. So she just held her friend tight. It was all she could think to do.
