The week that Bruce spent trying to pry answers out of Cain could, at best, be called trivial. Despite multiple presses for information each day, lengthy talks and what seemed to be genuine honesty from Cain, it was difficult to ascertain much of anything about Lipov. Cain was kept within a small, hidden room at the center of Wayne manor, impenetrable without a two-way biological lock that required both Bruce and Alfred to unlock. Within was only a small chair, a bed and a doorlessbathroom. On the wall was one of the many speakers that ran throughout the mansion.
"I fought Vic about to a standstill in Moscow, two decades ago." Cain sat on the bed as he reflected. "He was working security for the KGB in a testing facility for potential nuclear-weaponry, the kind of stuff the Demon Head hates no matter who's manufacturing it. The rest of his squad I picked off no problem, but he outlasted all my bullets and I had to try taking him out at close range. Guess I saw something in the kid, then. Offered to take him away from cold, freezing Russia and put him somewhere his skills would be of better use."
"Do you know anything about his psychological profile? Revenge is one thing, but he seems to have obsessed over you for a long time."
"He's a compulsive liar. After the first couple times he told me how he grew up and the story was different, it almost became a game. Sometimes he got the idea to join the KGB from his father, who was also an agent. Sometimes the KGB wiped out his family and he wanted to join them so he'd never have to feel weak again. He'd even change where his stories came from. Some days he heard them from other kids locked in the reeducation camps. Others he worked for the camps and stole what he heard for a laugh. I don't know how old he is, I don't know where he came from, I'm not even sure Victor Lipov is his real name."
"What about this encounter the two of you had? The one where you insist you killed him?"
"Tatras Mountains, along the Polish-Slovakian border. According to our instructions we were being paid to eliminate a camp of pro-communist rebels dissatisfied with the recent Velvet Divorce. It was really just a convenient place to make a death look accidental, considering how dangerous some of the paths are and how little travel they saw in the dead of winter. Ra's al Ghul gave me the job personally, said Vic's sadistic behavior ended up letting one too many people slip through the cracks. He said Vic looked up to me, he'd trust me no matter what I said."
"What happened then?"
"Vic caught on to what I was sent to do before I could do it. Knocked the gun out of my hand, I had to resort to a knife." Cain paused and traced two lines down his cheeks with a finger. "Those scars on his face? I gave him those."
"How did it end? What made you so sure he was dead?"
"I knocked him off the edge," Cain said. "His body went limp and he rolled down a half-destroyed trail of rocks, ice and awful falls before he hit the ground for the last time. I even took the long way back down to his spot, which took over two hours, and there he was in the same, bloody clump. No pulse, no breath, nothing."
Bruce rubbed at his forehead as he took inventory of all the facts and tried to make some answer out of them. "You said it was winter—"
"December. Cassandra was born a month later."
"Maybe the cold helped to preserve him, even after all his internal motion seemed to stop."
"And maybe some gypsy woman found him there, performed some magic ritual and brought him back to life." Cain scoffed. "It doesn't matter how he survived. You realize that, don't you?"
"Knowledge of your enemy is an important resource," Bruce said. "You taught me that."
"Well, apparently Vic really took it to heart, turning my own idea against me."
"That leads me to my next point. That boy he trained, do you think he could defeat, even kill, Cassandra?"
"He fought the two of us to a standstill," Cain said. "And if Lipov gets his way, he's not going to let it be two against one again. If he can manage it, it'll just be the kid and her next time."
The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Bruce rubbed at his forehead before he glared at his old mentor. "Does that matter to you?"
"I'm telling you all this, aren't I?"
"I figured you were just trying to protect yourself."
"What do you, Bruce? You want me to give you some proclamation or something? You wanna hear me say something about how much I care? Keep your daddy issues to yourself. You're Cassandra's father, you don't need me to say it."
"What is she to you then?"
"What's it matter what she is to me? I'm a bastard drunk who should have died a long time ago." Cain looked to the floor. "And if you think I'm hard on myself now, you outta give me a drink."
"Maybe it isn't too late," Bruce said. "You could still cut ties with the League, I could help protect you."
Cain managed a small smirk and shook his head. "Only a parent could be proud of someone who did the exact opposite of what they were always told to do. I don't need your brand of redemption. I'm fine where I am."
The two glared at one another for another silence. The two minutes seemed as two centuries.
For a few short seconds, the room was thrust into darkness.
Both Bruce and Cain jerked up straight as the lights began to function again and a crackle came from the speaker on the wall.
Through the static, Alfred spoke. "Master Wayne, did you just see that?"
Bruce rose and pushed the response button. "I did. What was that?"
"I think someone just cut the mansion's mine powerline.The backup generators are now running."
Bruce looked toward Cain and a tiny chill ran through him. "Alfred, head for the safe room. I get the feeling this wasn't an accident."
"I'm on my way now."
"Keep using the speakers. Let me know you're all right." Bruce turned toward Cain. "Do you think this is his doing?"
"Don't know, but he had a lot of the same training I did," Cain said. "Cutting the power is a hell of a way to start a break-in."
Brice grit his teeth and stared at the intercom. Only seconds had passed, but it seemed like Alfred was taking much too long to respond.
"Moving through the kitchen and toward the foyer," Alfred said.
"Good, thank you."
A mocking laugh slipped past Cain's lips. "You know, if Lipov and the kid take out your butler, they won't have a way of getting into this room."
"Keep quiet!" The insinuation angered Bruce.
The seconds ticked by. "I'm crossing the foyer to the second floor now."
"Second floor, hm?"
Bruce's blood ran cold. The voice that followed Alfred's bore a Russian accent. He grit his teeth as he pressed the button again. "Lipov."
"Mister Wayne. You know, I don't know much about you other than paparazzi talk, but I couldn't look away from one of these photos of yours."
Bruce pressed the button on the speaker. "Alfred, forget the correspondence. Just get in here. Now."
"Are all of your children adopted, Mister Wayne? What about this little Chinese girl? Her too."
Bruce did not answer and silently pled for Alfred to reach the room without being spotted.
"I spent years trying to figure out where David's spawn was hiding out. I was always prepared for when the day would come, but I didn't draw a conclusion until I heard about the silent little Angel who defeated a giant with a flurry of pressure point strikes. It still wasn't much to go off of, but my instincts led me to rest of the way."
It was everything in Bruce's body not to shout at Lipov to get out, but a response would only further egg him on.
"I never did conclude her public identity before I came here. No real records of any Cassandra Cain I could find. But then that tracker the Odmience practically shoved into Cain's bloodstream, after a lengthy delay, started showing me coordinates to Wayne manor."
"God damnit!" Cain raised his arm to eye-level and glared at his veins. "How'd the little bastard do that?"
"And now it's all starting to click. So I suppose that makes you the Batman too? If only I was invested more in this city, thatmight be meaningful to me."
Bruce pushed the button hard enough it almost broke. "Alfred, I don't know where you are but get in here, now."
Just as he spoke, metal gears within the wall began to whirl. On the wall opposite Bruce and Cain, the mechanism with a hand and ocular sensor began to glow green. Bruce rushed over to it, set one hand on the pad and raised his face to the slot to scan his eyes. The machinery within the walls picked up the pace as a small door slipped open from the wall next to him. A panting Alfred stood on the other side.
"I'm all right," he said. "Let me just—"
Alfred was thrust into the safe room by a force from behind him. The force slipped into the space, crossed it like a flash of black and took hold of Cain.
"Little son of a bitch!" Cain struggled a moment before the Odmience thrust him through the entrance of the room.
Bruce, fueled more by instinct than anything else, rushed at the Odmience. Part of him felt conflicted, given the boy's age, but that would not stop him. While the child looked the other way, Bruce swung at his head hard enough to knock him off balance.
The Odmience only faltered a moment and caught the next punch Bruce threw. An ounce of genuine fear trickled through Bruce as he noted how the tiny body held and began to twist his arm. Though he showed no pain initially, the Odmience lifted his foot, kicked him in the stomach and forced him backwards
A gunshot followed and, once the ringing subsided, Cain's screams of agony just outside the safe room door was audible. Bruce pushed to his feet as Lipov stepped into view on the outside of the safe room, Cain bled from one of his knees at the madman's feet. As Lipov stepped up to the precipice, the security door began to beep.
"Bring out the old man." Lipov raised his gun toward Bruce. "You stay where you are. Hands where I can see them."
Bruce bitterly complied as the Odmience shoved a shakingAlfred out of the room.
"Good to know where I can get ahold of the girl," Lipov said. "Where is she?"
"She isn't here." Bruce searched about for a method to escape the situation as he spoke, but the entire point of the room was to prevent any easy means of escape. Including for himself.
"No? I'll have instructions for you, a week from now, if all goes right. Tell her to meet me. Or I'll burn this whole mansion to the ground."
The beeps from the door faded into one long tone as it slipped shut. The last thing Bruce saw was Lipov smash the butt of his gun into Alfred's head and crack it bloody. Bruce shouted and ran at the door as the safe room locked itself. There would be no escape from the room until Alfred could let him back out.
Bruce pounded his head against the door. An enemy had tracked him to his home and had an ultimatum to prepare. Whether he liked it or not, he needed Cassandra back.
