Within the training room echoed the rhythmic thud of punches against heavy bags, the sharp snap of kicks connecting with padded targets, and the grunts of exertion filled the air.
Samael, stripped to the waist and clad in simple workout pants, moved with surprising grace, his body a blur of motion.
Wren, her face impassive, circled him, her eyes narrowed, assessing his every move. She had laid out a series of drills designed to test his speed, his agility, and his reflexes.
So far, he was… adequate.
"Faster," she said, her voice clipped and demanding. "More power. You're holding back."
Samael scoffed, throwing a series of rapid punches at the heavy bag. "Holding back? I'm practically killing myself here. What do you want from me, blood?"
Well, as he said this, he did internally acknowledge that he was indeed holding back in a way by not using a single bit of grace in any action, not his stamina, strength, speed or durability right now.
Wishing to keep his body from breaking apart as long as possible. As well as strengthening it by having it receive true exercise.
"You said you wanted to go to Gotham so I want you to be ready for Gotham," Wren stated, her gaze unwavering. "And you're not ready yet."
"I'm getting there," Samael retorted, landing a solid kick on the bag. "Give me some time. I haven't exactly been doing this my whole life."
"Time is a luxury you can't afford," Wren stated, "The world does not wait."
"So what, you expect me to become Batman overnight?" Samael asked, rolling his eyes.
Wren's lips twitched slightly, but she didn't smile. "I expect you to be able to defend yourself. To protect yourself. To survive."
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Enough with the drills," she said. "Let's see what you can do."
Samael grinned, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes. "Finally," he said. "Some action."
Wren adopted a fighting stance, her body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash. "No rules," she said. "No holding back. Fight to win."
Samael nodded, assuming a stance of his own. He had no formal training, no knowledge of martial arts. All he had was instinct, the raw, primal knowledge of a warrior honed over millions of years.
Though he knew that he musn't forget, that, that instinct was honed in his archangelic form, translating that into his human body is no easy task.
He just needed to hold back, and not accidentally break her, not that he'd admit he was already quite fond of the woman.
The fight began.
Wren moved first, launching a flurry of punches and kicks, her movements precise and powerful. Samael reacted instinctively, dodging and weaving.
He wasn't trying to think, to analyze, to strategize. He was simply reacting, letting his instincts guide him.
Wren's attacks were relentless, a constant barrage of force and skill. Samael found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up. He blocked a punch, dodged a kick, and barely managed to avoid a sweeping leg sweep.
"You're too passive," Wren said, her voice sharp. "You need to be aggressive. You need to take the initiative."
Samael grunted, parrying another punch. "Easier said than done," he replied, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're pretty good."
"I'm just getting started," Wren said, her eyes narrowing. She launched another attack, a spinning back kick aimed at his head.
Samael ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. He saw an opening, a momentary lapse in Wren's defense. He seized the opportunity, lunging forward and grabbing her arm.
He twisted, using her momentum against her. Wren stumbled, losing her balance. Samael followed through, sweeping her legs out from under her.
Wren hit the mat with a thud, her eyes widening in surprise. Samael didn't give her a chance to recover. He pounced on her, pinning her to the ground, his hands gripping her wrists.
He was on top of her, his face inches from hers, his body pressing down on hers. He could feel her muscles tense, her heart racing.
"Yield," he said, his voice low, a hint of triumph lacing his tone.
Wren stared up at him, her expression a mixture of surprise, frustration, and… something else. Respect? Admiration? It was hard to tell.
"Get off me," she said, her voice tight.
"Not until you tell me your name," Samael said, his grip tightening slightly.
Wren's eyes narrowed. "That information is not relevant."
"It's relevant to me," Samael countered, his voice firm. "I won. You have to give me something."
"I don't make deals," Wren said, her jaw clenched.
"Too bad," Samael said, smirking. "Because I'm not letting you go. We can stay like this all day. I'm actually quite comfortable."
He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. He could feel her breath on his skin, her body heat radiating through her clothes. He could smell the faint scent of sweat and ozone.
He knew that he was pushing her, that he was testing her limits. But he couldn't help himself. He was for some reason drawn to her.
Maybe it was her strength, her discipline, her mystery or her beauty, or perhaps all of the above, he didn't really care enough to really analyse himself.
He was more interested in analysing her.
"Tell me your name, Wren," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
Wren stared up at him, her eyes searching his face. He could see the conflict raging within her, the battle between her duty and perhaps her own desires.
Suddenly, Wren's eyes hardened. She shifted her weight, her muscles coiling, preparing to strike.
Samael tensed, anticipating her move. He knew that she was a highly skilled fighter, that she wouldn't give up easily.
But he also knew that he was stronger, faster, more powerful. He could easily subdue her, force her to submit.
But he didn't want to. He didn't want to accidentally hurt her.
He tightened his grip on her wrists, preparing to restrain her. But he hesitated, holding back, unwilling to use more strength.
It was a mistake.
With a sudden burst of energy, Wren twisted her body, using her legs to gain leverage.
Her right leg shot up, hooking behind his back, her left leg landing on his chest, using him as a springboard. The sudden force threw him off balance, and he lost his grip on her wrists.
She flipped him over, reversing their positions. Before he could react, she was on top of him, pinning him to the ground, her hands gripping his wrists.
Their positions were reversed, mirroring the previous moments, but with a completely different intention.
She was on top of him, her face inches from his, her body pressing down on his. He could feel her muscles tense, her heart racing. But this time, there was no triumph in her eyes. Only… intensity.
"You're an idiot, Mr. Luthor," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You let your guard down. You hesitated. And now you're paying the price."
Samael stared up at her, his mind racing. He had been so focused on getting her to reveal her name while not hurting her that he had forgotten about the fight. He had underestimated her, and he had paid the price.
He also realized that even though she was on top of him, she wasn't trying to hurt him.
She could have easily broken his arm, dislocated his shoulder, or even knocked him unconscious - that is if he wasn't an archangel, for his soul would still remain conscious.
But she doesn't know that.
"So," he said, his voice soft, curious. "What now? You gonna beat me up?"
Wren's lips twitched slightly, but she didn't smile. "I should," she said. "It would teach you a valuable lesson."
She paused, her gaze softening slightly. "But I won't. I'm not here to hurt you, Mr. Luthor. I'm here to protect you."
She released his wrists, pushing herself up and off of him. She stood up, brushing the imaginary dust from her clothes.
Samael remained on the ground, staring up at her. He was confused, frustrated, and… impressed.
He pushed himself up, wincing slightly. His body was aching, his muscles screaming. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally.
"You're good," he said, his voice grudging. "Really good."
Wren nodded, her expression impassive. "I've had a lot of practice," she said.
She paused, her eyes scanning the room. "We're done for today," she said. "You need to rest. And maybe, just maybe, think a little bit more about what's at stake."
Samael nodded, understanding her unspoken message - not that he himself didn't already understand what she is saying.
He simply doesn't really care.
The bigger picture? He's the one who decides the picture's form.
He has enough power to remake the universe in his own image, establish cosmic laws by simply commanding reality, he simply didn't because for now it would shorten his time, and he had no guarentee of finding a replacement vessel.
He looked at Wren, "Thanks," he said, his voice sincere though a bit awkward, not used to really sincerely thanking many people. "For not breaking my arm."
Intentions matter in his eyes even if she couldn't really do it.
Not because his father wouldn't allow it, no, Luthor isn't some softy, he's been recovering, he needs to experience the harshness of the world now, that's why Wren has been bestowed so much authority over him by Lex.
Wren's lips twitched again, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You're welcome, Mr. Luthor," she said. "Just try not to make it a habit."
She turned and walked towards the door, her movements as fluid and graceful as ever. She paused at the threshold, casting one last look at Samael.
"And for the record," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "My name is Cassandra."
With that, she exited the room, leaving Samael alone with his thoughts.
Cassandra. So that was her name. It suited her, he thought.
Wait... Cassandra, the dark hair, the eyes, that face... Of course! Cassandra Cain!
Batgirl!
But how? He's gazed upon her soul, her loyalty to him is true, she is no spy from the Bat, he knows that for sure.
On hindsight, he should have expected this - not this situation in particular, but the changes.
His very existence made this world unpredictable, as none of the shows, or comics he's read could be this world, since he exists in it.
But Cassandra Cain... Interesting.
She's more interesting than he first thought.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Yep, Wren is Cassandra, her backstory is different than in the comics,
since in this one she was taken in by Luthor because of him noticing her exceptional talent when she ran away from her father and was basically raised as Samael's bodyguard for when he woke up -
since Luthor was never giving up, and he wanted his son to have someone be there to protect him like he himself has Mercy.
Well, I hope you like it and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)