Summary:Bruce tests Cassandra's ability with the basic Bat-tools, and Cassandra tests Bruce in the sparring ring, all to see if Cassandra is ready to start patrols. Log Info:Storyteller: {$storyteller} |
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Bruce knows at some point he's going to have to get Helena or someone to take Cassandra clothes shopping. There's only so much he can do on that front, especially when it comes to teenage women. What he can do, however, is see if she's ready to take to the field. With that in mind, he invited the young woman back down into the cave and has set a variety of devices on a table that she may see used in the field.
Particularly, he has set out one of the grapple guns and several batarangs for Cassandra. They currently stand on the edge of one of the dips in the cave - it's a long drop, but there has been netting extending from one side of the opening to the other. Also on the other side of the opening are several 'targets' that have been set up. He's dressed in a gi, not wearing the Batsuit at the moment, since this was for training and not actual deployment. Yet.
Cassandra was nothing if not practical, and predictable. She also is, the others are starting to find, quite compliant. Whether this is in gratitude or in some sense of debt to taking her in, or simply her persona remains yet to be seen and determined. She is quite the enigma with her limited means of communicating, and communicating with her after all. There wasn't even a pause as Bruce asked her down, she simply stopped what she was doing -which was, oddly, watching Alfred cook.
As she gets down to the cave she looks at he dip of the cave, and the tools set out. The batarangs are not too hard to figure out - they are certainly quite like shuriken which she has trained with. She doesn't reach out for them, however. She waits. The girl, clearly, is disciplined.
Cassandra takes the batarang once it's offered to her. Similar to the shuriken, but slightly different weight. Slightly different way of throwing it. She turns it over once in her hand, then again, examining it, feeling it out. And, a few more moments after, once she is satisfied she takes a stance and throws it. It lands, solidly, onto the target - not a perfect shot the first time, but better than most would do. She doesn't miss, instead hitting just a little to the outside of the target.
She then looks to Bruce, either for approval - or, for criticism.
There's a nod of approval from Bruce, and the faint trace of a smile. "We never try to kill." he finally says as Bruce takes up one of the batarangs. And he gestures on himself. "Hands." he taps the weapon against his hand. "To disarm. Legs." tap there. "To bring down. But never the head or the heart."
"I know this may be harder for you to begin with, but I want you to practice it until you have it right." he finally says, gesturing to the batarangs as he sets the one he had down and gestures to the targets.
Cassandra's eyes go wide, then narrow sharply. She adamantly shakes her head, sharp, in negation of killing. Meaningfully. Then, with a measure of strong determination she picks the second batarang up, and a third, and a fourth. Each is thrown, one after another, in succession. The first hits the target, but is off point. The second hits the wrist. The third, the calf - not quite the ankle. The fourth pegs the ankle. She expels a sounded breath, then again looks to Bruce, that set determination still about her features, her posture.
Cassandra seems to tolerate the hair-tossle, far better than most girls her age would. She gives Bruce a squint, and a look that suggests she is uncertain what he means, a bit confused by his body language when he talks about 'flying', and a bit uncertain to the purposes of the grappling gun. She had not, after all, ever seen a gun that hadn't shot bullets before.
Cassandra is a good student. She's had plenty of teachers and - well, there were incentives to pay attention, none of them necessarily positive ones, but incentives nonetheless. Training is ingrained into her core, by now. She watches him utilize the gun, ascend to the ceiling point. Curious thing. A gun that is not a weapon?
She watches as he swings, landing, and studies the gun a few more moments. Guns were not in her training, but they were fired at her enough. She grimaces in the memory and in the complexity of this particular task, but she sets to it all the same. She lifts the gun, considering how to aim it, and she fires the grappling gun. The claws begin to sink into the ceiling, getting a grip, though it's not quite the spot she was aiming for. Yet, curiously enough there's no hesitation to retract the gun and start that ascension, to start the swing. Cassandra, it appears, has a little daredevil lurking inside her.
Bruce watches her, prepared to swing across again to catch her if she falters - but for the moment, he's willing to let her do this on her own. His eyes study her movements, taking her in. More of that training of her past is showing, he's picking it up - not just in what she did when she was throwing, but her reaction to a touch, a bit of affection. He's making mental notes of it all. Even when she decides to risk her swing, he's ready to move if she needs him - but more willing to let her learn on her own.
She swings again, and again without hesitation, back to the first platform. It's not nearly as smooth as Bruce's, but why would it be? Still, her training and already peak conditioning make it easier for her than, perhaps some other wards have in the past. She lands, this time, learning from her prior error, but it's not as efficient, not as quickly as she could have performed it. And she seems to realize that. She reels the grappling gun back in, and aims to rejoin Bruce on the second platform once again. This last attempt is much the same as her second, she makes it without having to swing again, but she seems to lack that experience, judgement, as to not only aiming the grappling gun, but the peak point to target to reach the other platform with the smoothest transition and fastest speed.
"Excellent job, Cassandra." Bruce gives a nod of warm approval at the woman's efforts at her work. And then he decides to make a decision. There's really only one way he can figure out where she got her training, and how it might be affecting her. Though he has an almost solid identity on it. "Did you still want to spar?" he asks her quietly.
At that, Bruce gets the first real 'grin' that Cassandra has shown. A few smiles have been dolled out, here or there. But they were brief, short-lived. Now, he's asking her to show him what she can really do. Which, she seems eager enough to provide. That is one way she answers him. The other way is to begin to walk over towards that sparring ring, then she turns around and looks at Bruce, clearly waiting.
Cassandra watches the man bow, but doesn't bow in return. Apparently that was not on the menu; etiquette was left out in favor of more practical matters, like ruthless efficiency. Still, she has learned on her own terms the difference between sparring, and fighting - though that line is thin, it is there. And as Bruce takes a stance, she moves in with a fast, and fluid strike of the hands, intended to throw her competitor off balance, and create an opening for herself. It's, in truth, a simple attack, and not hard to judge. But, perhaps - she's testing him, instead?
Cassandra will find out quickly that Bruce adapts quickly to the situation. When she moves to strike, he uses a combination of krav maga and akido, blending them together effortlessly as he stays on balance, and instead attempts to turn the young woman's attack against her, moving to give her a toss if she's not quick enough to react to it. She'll quickly discover that Bruce may be older - and she may have been raised up in this - but out of all the Bats, he's one of the most seasoned in combat.
Cassandra can see the seasoning in Bruce. Identifies the different techniques, immediately. Sees that he is not to be taken lightly. But what she also sees is, as she sees with all she engages with, is his body language. Even before his attacks are brought to fruition, she knows what he's going to do. And, out of all the people Bruce has fought, he's never fought someone like Cassandra Cain.
It's not that she's quicker than Bruce, perhaps they are even on that. But her ability to identify his moves, where he is planning to strike and what he is planning to do, compounded by her own awareness of a variety of martial arts techniques and styles and her own skill make her, by leaps and bounds, one of the most dangerous martial artists Bruce has faced not just recently, but ever.
She is already moved to the side, buffeting his attempt to throw her with a brush of a forearm to expose his side, slamming a thai muay boxing knee to his side, leaving her hands free to further engage him with a shaolin kung-fu serpent strike to the arm. It's the latter that's the most dangerous. Aimed at the shoulder-joint of the arm to disable it, completely and render it nothing more than a floppy appendage for a short period of time.
It has been years since Bruce has faced off against a grandmaster - he's had to rely on his own training, his own development of his skills and techniques, adapting everything he's learned to adequately handle those that threaten New York.
It's been years since an assassin of Cassandra's level has made a move against Staten Island - and it shows, as she is able to get in the strike - but, in that strike is realization. There's only a handful of people in the world that can pull off that type of maneuver successfully without breaking or dislocating the joint, and to do so properly.
He turns to face her, twisting to one side to protect his arm, but it's her face she's studying. It shouldn't have been her name he was searching, it should have been her /face/. As she prepares to come in again, Bruce starts to use the same techniques she's attempting in defense, and then he breathes a single word.
"Shiva."
Bruce is onto something, there. Shiva, indeed. Her mother. It's at least a place to start. And, she senses the need to spar has gone out of Bruce. He has, in fact, gotten the information he wanted. Or at least, in part. And he recognizes something in her fighting. That much is clear.
She pauses, squinting at the name in such a manner that bears confusion, and no recognition as to what that name, that word, means. It's written over her face. She frowns, shakes her head to show she doesn't understand that, at all. Then, gently, she takes his protective hand and pulls it aside, giving him a meaningful look. Then, she strikes the nerve again to re-engage the shoulder joint, the arm control.
She lifts her chin up, then. And, for the first time she's shown anyone, there is pride there.. It wasn't shown ever in any of the other bits of training, exercise, or discussions when she made progress? But this? This, she knows she can be proud of. She knows how good she is. But, there is no show-boating. No celebration.
Instead, perhaps taking a cue from Bruce, she pauses, and then, mimics his bow. It's not perfect, but, the gesture is made all the same.
She either doesn't know who her mother is, or her mother never told her. This brings a frown to Bruce's face, but he doesn't press it. Not at the moment. Instead, when she fixes the injury she caused, he gives her a return bow of acknowledgement. Perhaps he'd been willing to continue the spar, but she called for the stoppage, and now he has a morsel of information to work off of.
"Are you ready to start patrols? Or do you want more time? I'll need to make sure you're outfitted."
Cassandra tilts her head at Bruce, nods once, agreeable. She gives him a brief smile then. She nods again. She points at herself, then Bruce. Nods a final time. Yeah. She's ready. She feels, at least, she's been ready. It will give her something to do. And she'll probably watch the process of the costume being made, that would intrigue her. But at least Bruce does have that starting point now. And now? Now, should he let her go out on patrol, it will give her further means to try and - well, help. But that's another story.