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I don't own anything. DC Comics, and anything that it publishes, is not in anyway owned by me. It is all owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

Not One of all the Purple Host

The diner was typical for the downtown area of a city the size of Hub City. It was neither excessively clean and neat nor so filthy as to imply payoffs to the health inspectors. The crowd at breakfast and lunch were mostly people who worked blue collar jobs, with families from the neighborhood frequenting it in the evening at dinner.

The owner was a large man in his late fifties with two chins and greasy hair, who also worked the counter. Stephanie led the way to him, a bright smile on her face as she approached. "Hello! I saw the help wanted sign. My friend and I could use some jobs."

He looked them over critically. "Got any experience?"

"Well, no... but my friend is really athletic. She won't drop anything, no matter how much she has to carry! And I'm a total people person."

Cassandra stopped listening as her friend began to extol their virtues, as she could already tell from the owner's body language that he had decided to give them the jobs. As she looked around the diner, the gaze of most of the men in the room began to make her feel uncomfortable. However, she saw that more attention was focused on Stephanie while she pleaded her case, making Cassandra feel... protective, and strangely angry.

Before she had a chance to figure out the cause of her unusual feelings, she noticed that Stephanie had finished her pitch, and she returned her attention to the owner. "Alright, alright," he said. "I'll give you two a shot. Trial basis only, 'til I see how you handle it."

"Thank you!" Stephanie chirped brightly. Cassandra managed to muster up a small smile of her own.

"My name's Rick," the man said. "I think I've got a coupla spare uniforms in the back that would fit you two. Why don't you go on back and change, and we can see how you work out?"

"Thanks!" Stephanie said as she dragged Cassandra through the door, past the kitchen and into the back room. Cassandra noticed the cook, who was only a few years older than they were, giving them a look similar to the rest of the crowd, although his leer was obvious enough even normal people would have been able to read it. She shifted her walk so that she was between him and Stephanie, and she made sure the door was locked while her friend searched for the uniforms.

"Ah ha!" Stephanie said. "Oh, how cute!"

Cassandra watched neutrally as Stephane held the uniform up in front of her. It was mostly white, with short sleeves, a skirt that stopped several inches above the knee, and a purple checked pattern around the collar and on an apron that extended from the waist to the hem. Stephanie beamed at her, waiting eagerly for a reply.

"It's, um... white?" Cassandra offered hesitantly.

"Well, yeah," Stephanie agreed, giving it a critical look. "I guess for people who only want to wear black... not that there's anything wrong with that! But the purple is pretty close to eggplant."

"That's... good?" Cass offered.

"I know, right!" Stephanie said perkily. "Eggplant is the best color ever, but I can totally see myself wearing this to work everyday."

Stephanie then turned around and dug out a second uniform that would fit Cassandra, tossing it to her before starting to change into her own. Cass frowned before, after making sure that the door was really locked, she began to change as well. She was nearly finished when she heard her friend gasp.

"Those are, um, a lot of scars," Stephanie said quietly.

Normally Cassandra wasn't bothered by her scars, having gained the first ones when she was very little. For some reason her friend saying that made her feel self-conscious, however, and she hesitated a moment before turning around to read her reaction. She nearly sighed in relief when she didn't see any pity or disgust in Stephanie's body language.

"Yes," Cassandra finally agreed, looking at her friend as well. Stephanie had a few scars of her own from her time crime-fighting, but for the most part her fair skin was unblemished. Cass found herself feeling strangely warm, and quickly looked away to finish changing before she could blush.

Soon they were both dressed, Cassandra feeling far more awkward than Stephanie was, not being used to wearing anything but pants. Stephanie, on the other hand, was obviously very excited. "Hey, that looks good on you!" she said brightly as she examined Cass. "We need to get you wearing skirts more often."

"No," Cass said sharply, ignoring her friend's pout as she unlocked the door. If the men in the crowd had been interested in them before, they were even more so now that they were wearing the uniforms. Cassandra frowned in distaste, resolving to ignore the looks as the two girls approached Rick.

"Okay," he said, taking them in, before handing them pads of paper and pens. "You just take the orders and give them to me. I'll ring 'em up and tell the cook what to make. I'll call ya over when the food comes up. You get that half of the room, blondie, and your friend can get the other."

Stephanie grinned at Cass. "Okay, this doesn't seem so bad. Wish me luck!"

"Luck," Cassandra said to her friend quietly, before she was left alone facing half of a room of customers.

She froze for a long moment as she took in the scene before her. She had never had a job of any kind before, and she suddenly realized that she not only had a job, but a job that involved talking to people. The only thing that kept her from bolting in that moment was Stephanie's excitement, and her unwillingness to look foolish in front of her friend.

She hung back for a moment to observe Stephanie's work, her calloused fingers clenching painfully at the notebook that she had been given. It was yet another reason to panic: her job included a notebook to record customers' orders. She just hoped that Rick wouldn't mind her doing everything in her head.

Taking a deep breath, she began to walk to her half of the room, doing her best to copy her friend as she did. She plastered a rictus of a smile onto her face and stood nervously in front of her first customer. It was an older man wearing a blue factory uniform who had just arrived. He gave her a tired smile when she approached.

"What can I... get?" Cassandra asked.

"I'll have an egg salad sandwich, and a side of chili," he said.

Cass nodded, rolling the words around in her head as she walked to the counter. "Egg salad... sandwich. Side of chili."

Rick grunted, and she turned and headed to her next table. She had taken two more orders back to Rick when the first came up. Carrying it to the table, she set it down in front of him, holding her breath as he looked at it. "Thanks, darlin'," he said, digging into his meal.

Her confidence bolstered, Cassandra spent the next hour serving customers. It was between the lunch and dinner rushes, and she was able to keep up even without writing anything down. Eventually, she was even able to take a short break with Stephanie, who chatted cheerfully at her while they waited for something to do.

Just when Cass thought that she had things in hand, however, the dinner rush began. While the people eating earlier had been mostly individuals grabbing a quick bite before or after a work shift, the people who came for dinner often came in large groups, either friends who all got off shift together, or families from the neighborhood. The room became loud with conversation, as every seat filled up.

Cassandra weaved through the crowd, feeling more and more overwhelmed as she tried to remember where dozens of orders were supposed to go. She had always had a very sharp memory, something that she had needed since she couldn't write anything down, but it was being sorely taxed by her job. She saw the concern for her in Stephanie's posture as the shift continued, as her friend was filling up her pad to keep track of orders. Cassandra vowed once again to try hard on her own reading lessons.

The customers certainly weren't making things easy on her, either. She wasn't sure who was louder and more obnoxious: the workers hanging out with friends after a long day of labor, or the young children recently let out of school. She had been leaning towards the children, after the first one decided that throwing a milkshake at the waitress would be fun (which was followed by several rolls when she casually dodged the improvised missile).

Her position changed when a group of younger men came in and took up a table. Despite the early hour, she could smell alcohol on their breaths, which was the only odor stronger than their unwashed bodies. They all leered at her openly when she approached to take their orders, making her feel extremely self-conscious in her purple and white waitress uniform.

The loudest of the group openly stared at her legs while he spoke. "Hey china-doll," he said. "What are you doin' after your shift?"

"Go home," she said evenly, ignoring his interest. It was the only way through her shift with him keeping all of his bones intact.

"I could come with ya, babe," he said, sucking in his protruding gut.

She simply ignored him, taking the rest of the orders before turning to give them to Rick. Just as she started to walk away, her keen situational awareness, honed by her father via such childhood games as 'shoot Cassandra in the back if she doesn't notice him pulling a gun', tipped her off to something about to happen. She spun away just in time to avoid a grope, causing all of the men at the table to laugh.

For just a moment she had a fantasy about showing them everything else that her father had taught her, but after taking a breath she simply ignored it, continuing with her work. Unfortunately the men didn't get the hint, loudly calling her back to their table to demand more drinks, or fresh utensils, or a dozen other things. She could read from their body language that it was all false pretenses to simply harass her, but she still felt it getting under her skin.

Constantly distracted by the rowdy table, she found herself getting more and more behind with her work, and soon she began to lose track of what the orders were. She did her best, but as time passed more food was getting forgotten or delivered to the wrong people, and as she became more frantic the problems only got worse. The greater the pressure that she was feeling, the more things seemed to slip through her memory, leading to even more mistakes.

When she delivered the bill to the rowdy table, the leader tried to harass her one more time. "Come on, china-doll," he leered. "Come with us. We're gonna all have us a good time. You know you want to."

She tried to ignore him, but her temper had been simmering for a long time, and she knew that she was failing at her job. With her hands full of dishes that she had been picking up from the table, he tried to grope her again. Only her nearly inhuman balance allowed her to dodge without dropping anything.

She slowly turned around, her face completely blank, and faced the man who had been most responsible for her harassment. Leaning close to him, she spoke very quietly. "Try again... will break you."

He leered. "Sounds like fun, baby. Your place or mine?"

His expression slowly dropped at something that he saw in her eyes, and when she saw his hesitation, she spoke again. "No. Leave. Don't come back. Or I will break... five bones. For first offense."

He looked at her again, before swallowing slightly. He then forced out a laugh and turned to his friends. "Let's get outta here. Look for somewhere with some real hotties."

Cassandra carried the dirty dishes away, and then returned to the table. While she couldn't actually read what the bills said, she was familiar enough with money to recognize how much she was being given. She could tell that she hadn't received any tip to speak of despite how frustrating the people at the table had been.

It was the start of a trend. With her head out of the game because of her frustration, she continued making mistakes, until finally Rick pulled her aside. "Look, kid, waitressing's more than just carryin' food to tables. You gotta carry the right food, and you gotta make sure your customers wanna come back. It might help if you wrote some of these orders down, until you get used to what we have here."

Cassandra froze, her mind desperately seeking an excuse. "Um... I..."

She could see it in his eyes the second that Rick figured out her problem. "Oh," he grunted. "If you could keep up with all the orders, it'd be fine. But you can't. And you're not exactly charming the customers into coming back. I'm sorry, kid. But I don't think you're cut out to be a waitress."

"But... I try... I..." Cass said, trying to find some reason for him to keep her hired.

"I know," he said gently. "But this job just isn't for you. Nothin' wrong with that. You're a hard worker; you'll find another job."

Cassandra nodded mechanically as Rick took away her blank pad, and she walked stiffly to the back, avoiding eye contact with Stephanie the entire way. She took her time changing, surprised to find that putting on her civilian clothes after being forced out of another uniform more painful than she had expected. Eventually, she hung up the dress with the other spares, and snuck out the back, avoiding anyone's notice.

She walked despondently back to the apartment before changing into her new Silent costume. Stretching, she then climbed out the window, determined to put yet another failure behind her. Hopping quickly from roof to roof, she headed to the rougher part of town, using her stealth to avoid notice despite it not quite being dark yet.

When the sun fully set she began to explore the area, getting a feel for the layout of the streets and the kind of people who lived in her new home. In Gotham she had gotten to the point where she could feel the rhythms of the city, knowing without even thinking about it where she would need to go to find trouble. It would take her some time to get adjusted so completely to Hub City.

After about an hour she found a small group of men, and she could tell from their body language that they were up to no good. Shadowing them along the rooftops, she was soon rewarded as they spotted their first mark. They closed with a man obviously on his way home from work, and she knew that they intended to mug him.

"Hey, man," the leader said. "Got any money?"

"No," the victim said, his voice tense.

There were four muggers, and Cassandra used her line to drop down behind the first without a sound. Without wasting any time she punched him just behind his ear, a nerve strike that rendered him instantly unconscious. She caught him before he hit the ground, tying him up and moving onto her next target without any of the muggers noticing.

"I think you do," the leader continued. "I think you got plenty of money."

The victim stared at Cassandra, his eyes wide as she moved up behind the second criminal, knocking him out and tying him up just as easily. The next thug happened to glance back as she finished tying her target up, but before he could even scream she was on him. She subdued him just as easily.

"Too scared to talk?" the leader asked. "Whattaya say, boys? Let's see what he's carryin'... boys?"

The leader slowly turned around, only to find Cassandra standing right behind him, with all three of his people defeated behind her. He yelped in fear, the sound of terror cut off instantly as Cassandra rendered him unconscious as well. She then tied him up with the others and, with a final glance at the bemused near-mugging victim, fired her line and returned to the shadows of the rooftops.

"Okay, that was cool," Stephanie said. She was dressed as Spoiler, and was hiding just out of sight, although Cassandra had known that she was there from the moment that she had arrived. "You have got to show me how to do that nerve strike thing."

Cassandra just shook her head.

"Oh come on!" Stephanie cajoled. "Why not? I mean, you've done it to me, like, three times or something! I think I deserve to know."

"Not... ready," Cassandra said quietly. "Need learn more basics."

"Fine," Stephanie huffed. "If you won't teach me the cool stuff, then how 'bout... tag!"

Cassandra saw her coming, of course, but she let her friend tag her. Stephanie then ran off, giggling as she hopped from roof to roof. Cassandra slowly smiled before taking off after her friend. She really needed a good game of rooftop tag.

She let Stephanie have some fun leading her on a chase before finally deciding to change things around, catching up to her and tagging her. She then ran off laughing, this time with Stephanie chasing her. For a long time Stephanie and Cassandra laughed and played, their troubles behind them.