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[right][sup][i]Abandoned Dockyards - South Island[/i][/sup][/right]
[right][sup][i]Interactions: Robin - [@KaliW][/i][/sup][/right]

Cassandra Cain watched and listened, taking in everything she could, atop a building, looking down at the Penguin’s warehouse. Shrouded by fog and night, she could observe unseen. The color of ships passing through the harbor, the windows of the building, and the blindspots people could have looking out from inside, the gait of every stranger hobbling through the dead of night. Her eyes were particularly skilled at taking in body language, the angle of their steps, the strength of the postures, and all the tiny ways they distinguished their movement from others. Anything could be useful in toppling another person—in killing another person. It is what she’d been trained to do all those years ago by her father. She had to find weaknesses, missteps, minute particularities that could be manipulated for her own success.

She watched a lone dockworker smoking a cigarette, looking out over the warehouse and slowly pacing. Before he finished and walked back inside a building, she’d figured out that he was left-handed but had a weak right knee based on his slight limp. By the way he tossed the cigarette in the ocean, he seemed careless and overconfident. He had broad shoulders, and she could imagine him throwing a massive left hook at her. She could duck beneath, then topple him with a swift kick to the weak leg, then pin him down against the dock and stomp him in the back of the neck—

She was getting ahead of herself. Whenever she looked at someone, tactical possibilities spiraled from their every movement. Their fight or flight instincts, their Achilles’ Heels, in her mind, humans become objects to destroy. It all came cascading unless she tried hard to stop the instinctual flow of information. It was a skill necessary for survival, but one that had made her a weapon, cold and guarded. The others knew that. She wondered if they feared her.

Cassandra glanced at Robin. Did he fear her? She was not a detective like him. She was trying to gather info, but it all felt bloodthirsty, art-less. She couldn’t see the deep intentions or emotions in others, seek clues, and weave together conspiracies as he could. She just saw the pure movements, postures, the possibilities, and she used them in the moment to break those she needed to. Even looking at him, her mind raced with the ways she could beat him in combat. But through the night, she did not voice these concerns. She did not fidget, she did not pace around, and she barely even spoke to him except for brief questions or confirmations. But she couldn’t deny that she felt nervous, yearning to understand him.

The silence of the night was interrupted by muffled, but still audible noise. Cassandra felt her muscles tense immediately, and she shifted from her crouching position upwards but still hidden. The Sea Foxes crew moved quickly. She scanned seven figures hustling, men and woman, armed and dangerous. Seven versus two? That might have seemed daunting for others but as they busted through the locks and made their way inside, Cassandra Cain saw much just from a few seconds of observation. She could make a good guess on who was leading by the way the formation bent to heed the quiet gestures of the figure in the center. She noted builds, bodyweights, and dominant hands, all that she was trained to do. But it wasn’t enough from afar. She hoped Robin would keep track of the rest. Up close, she would become much more effective. Up close, she could decimate.

She looked at him from behind her Black Bat mask, poising herself ready to leap down. She would enter through a side window to apprehend the crooks, he would take the route that he prepared. But she needed him to confirm that they were ready to engage with at least seven dangerous individuals in a split-second.

[color=f7941d]“Ready. Now?”[/color]

Cassandra Cain was ready.