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Steph awoke into a kind of relief. She’d gone to sleep with an amount of tension, an ache from the strain of just how intense her orgasm had been, and now that she was awake again, she realized it had seeped entirely out of her consciousness.

She’d been stripped and bathed and put to bed in her own room, with the sheets also neatly cleaned and folded around her. She felt cleaner than clean. She felt pure. Which seemed a bit silly, considering everything that had happened.

She sat up, cracking one last little kink out of her neck, then rolled onto her back to get comfortable again. Cass—now in a simple T-shirt and slacks—was seated in the corner. Her quiet lurking should’ve startled Steph, but she’d felt Cass’s presence on some level that kept it from being too much of a surprise to her conscious mind.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Cass replied, not moving.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” Steph asked. She pulled the sheet up. “Doesn’t the Batgirl need any sleep?”

“You didn’t say… I could.”

Steph grinned. “I guess someone feels a bit bashful over what happened.”

Cass shrugged. “I had to… make it… look real.”

“And I enjoyed it,” Steph reminded her. “Miss Body Language couldn’t tell?”

“People can enjoy things… without liking them,” Cass mused.

Steph sat up, drawing the blanket over her naked breasts. At first unthinkingly, then letting it slip down a little to tantalize Cass. Looking for signs of life at Cass’s crotch, she thought she saw motion stirring… “What happened with the slavers?”

“After you passed out… I had you paid for… brought you back here… Batman thought that… we should wait a while… and make sure they didn’t… associate us… with getting caught… once I had you tucked in… we all hit the place… they’re done.”

“You don’t sound too excited,” Steph observed. “Did it go alright?”

“Went fine,” Cass answered. “But Tim… wasn’t there…”

“He wasn’t? Where was he?”

“That’s what I would like to know.”

Although not loud, Bruce’s gruff voice hit the darkened room like a gunshot, shattering the quiet peacefulness of being alone with Cass. Steph hadn’t even noticed him coming in. She wondered if Cass had, and maybe just not found it worth mentioning.

Steph pulled her sheet up to her chin, but although Bruce’s gaze swept over her, he didn’t seem much interested in her nudity. But neither did he got out of his way to avert his eyes. He seemed to catalogue her naked the same way he would her wearing clothes. And, not for nothing, but Cass crossed her legs.

“Tim went to run down a lead while we were waiting to make the raid. I checked with Oracle. He believed he’d found evidence of a League of Assassins operation within the city. That could be what’s detained him, or it could be something else.” Bruce sounded terser than usual—still professional, but worried. ”At any rate, he’s missed multiple check-ins. Now that you’re rested, I want you both combing the city for him. Reach out to him through any individual avenues you might have and see if he’s contacted you in any way. Any lead you can turn up could make the difference in getting Tim back.”

Steph gulped. She’d heard about the League of Assassins from Cass, who was reluctant to talk about them. And anything that could spook Cass was seriously bad news. More than that, she couldn’t help but imagine a note of censure in Bruce’s words.

She knew he would never really blame her, but for a long time, she’d been what kept Tim grounded. Leaving him for Cass—well, even if Bruce didn’t blame her for Tim behaving erratically, she felt a keen sense of responsibility.

“We’ll find him,” Cass said simply, like she’d sensed Steph’s distress and now wanted to assure both her and Bruce.

“No unnecessary risks,” Bruce cautioned her. “Losing one team member is enough of a blow.”

Then he backed into the shadows and was gone.

“This is my fault,” Steph moaned, getting out of bed and going for her costume. “I drove Tim to take on the Legion of fucking Doom!”

“League of Assassins,” Cass corrected primly. “And he’s the one… who lost interest… in you.”

“I could’ve tried harder to reach out to him. Maybe if I had, he wouldn’t be pulling his lone wolf act—“

“I’m glad… you didn’t.”

Steph looked at Cass and sighed. “I don’t regret leaving him or starting things with you. But it still feels like he needed me and I abandoned him. We’ve gotta find him, Cass. There has to be a way!”

“There is.”

Steph stopped, bra undone but on her shoulders, and looked at Cass. She sounded certain. Like she had a tracker on Tim or something. Was she into that? Planting trackers on people? It seemed like a common Batperson fetish for her to have…

“Cass, what is up?” she demanded.

“When I was brainwashed… by Deathstroke… I was made to be… the perfect leader… for an offshoot… of the Assassins… the League of Shadows.”

“Yeah, and you broke free of their brainwashing, so they can go pound sand.”

Cass shook her head. “They worshipped me… as a goddess… if I go to them… they may know something… about Tim.”

Steph sucked in air through her teeth. “Cass, I know you’re a badass, but this is serious lion’s den stuff here. Even you can’t take on an army.”

Cass shrugged.

“Well, I don’t want you to,” Steph amended.

“I’m not planning… on fighting them… if I call upon their loyalty… I may get the information… we need.”

Steph swallowed. It felt like bile was rising in the back of her throat. “Okay, if it’ll get Tim back—but there’s no way I’m letting you go in there alone. I’m coming with you and if anyone even comes near you with a needle—“

“It will be… dangerous.”

“So was getting sold into slavery, and I managed that alright. I’m on a hot streak, Cass! Don’t break the streak!”

Cass smiled almost unwillingly. “Very well, Steph… I will not stop you… from coming with me.”

“That’s right,” Steph enthused smugly, doing up her bra. Then she looked at her Spoiler costume. “Umm… how does one dress for a League of Shadows soiree?”

***

Cass had to call on Barbara to track down the League of Shadows, which didn’t make Steph feel any better about the plan. It turned out the nearest safehouse, at least that Oracle knew of, was in Bludhaven. They borrowed the Batwing, Cass piloting. It made Steph a bit abashed that the woman was at a sixth-grade reading level but could still fly a plane, even if she was only setting the autopilot. Steph could barely manage to set her DVR.

After they landed, discretely out of the way, they Ubered themselves to the Koreatown part of Bludhaven. Long, thick coats concealed their clothes and some of their identities, with the lapels pulled up about their faces, caps and beanies on their heads.

To Steph, Koreatown in the evening was a confusing whirl of advertisements, venders, packed cars and packed pedestrians barely controlled by the traffic lights, open windows on the second and third floors demanding almost as much attention as the storefronts, with loud arguments, sales pitches, music, even people throwing out trash. Neither the writing nor the conversation was in English for the most part.

Even if she had a map, Steph didn’t think she could’ve found her way through the morass to anywhere in particular, but to Cass, it was like old home week. Clutching Steph’s hand knowledgably, she led them through a rat’s nest of backalleys and sidestreets, following some combination of graffiti, burnt out letters on neon signs, and what seemed to be sheer intuition.

Finally, she let go of Steph’s hand, leaving her standing there while she went down a set of stairs to a basement door. She rattled the locked door with heavy-fisted blows. A peephole slid open, hooded eyes staring out at them. A male voice barked commands in Mandarin. Cass retorted. Steph wondered if Cass was more fluent in that language than in English, or if she just couldn’t tell how bad Cass’s Mandarin was.

The door opened. Cass gestured for Steph to follow her as she stepped inside. Steph went in with her. She wasn’t surprised when the door slammed shut behind her, but she did jump a little. Cass took off her coat, handing it to the doorman—a bald, rough-looking Mongolian Steph wouldn’t have liked to share an elevator with, or any other six feet of space.

The doorman made no move to take Cass’s coat. Cass dropped it at his feet. He still didn’t acknowledge her. Then Cass’s leg moved and the doorman seemed to break in half. Steph sucked in breath, not only at the brute violence of the act—but Cass was wearing nothing more than a knee-length Nehru coat. When her leg flashed out, Steph could see her limber thigh curve up into supple buttocks. Then Cass’s foot was withdrawn to the floor and the stunning view was once more hidden.

Then ninjas were coming out of the woodwork, shinobi shōzoku blending into the dank, dark contours of the basement, but their numbers still apparent by the flashes of their unsheathed katanas. Steph gulped. She knew Bruce didn’t like guns, but for missions like this, maybe he could let her use a Howitzer?

“I am your god,” Cass announced, speaking deliberately slowly so it wasn’t apparent she had any difficulty. It also made her seem far more formal than when she spoke with Steph. “The Dragon of the West. I have deprived you of myself to see how you would conduct yourselves when left to your own devices. Now I return to my rightful place to give you the pleasure of serving me once more.”

Thank God for late-night viewings of Hercules, Steph thought. Cass had really figured out the kind of thing to say before you conducted a human sacrifice or told a henchman he had failed you for the last time.

One of the ninjas stepped forward, dark eyes regarding Cass carefully. His sword was held aloft, not towards Cass, but unwavering in its stance. He spoke in unaccented English, more readily than Cass could. “Who have you brought with you to this sacred space?”

“A slave girl,” Cass answered. “Her devotion to me is beyond question.”

“She is not attired properly to serve a goddess.”

“It was necessary for us to travel without being noted. Her present garb suited that need. Now that I am here, you may redress her in proper clothing.”

The man—their leader, Steph guessed, or at least the guy who was keeping the seat warm without Cass there—inclined his head slightly. “So long as you are here, there is a matter requiring input. I would have resolved it myself in your absence, but since you are here, this humble one will defer to your authority.”

“As you should,” Cass retorted. “Explain the circumstances.”

“Lo-si has been accused by a junior member of our fraternity. He is said to be misusing our limited funds for his own ends. Lo-si, in turn, has accused Quan-ko of impugning his honor. Quan-ko has not provided proof of his accusation, but neither has Lo-si presented a reason for Quan-ko to lie. Please, grace us with the benefit of your wisdom in bringing an end to this dispute.”

Cass scowled. “It is only just that your inferior self, with only lowborn wits to call upon, has not been able to yet discern what my own celestial wisdom easily divines. Money is not so important to our organization as fighting spirit. The two will battle to the death. Whoever is the superior fighter will be of more worth to the League of Shadows. Whoever proves inferior causes too much trouble in living.”

The leader bowed deeply, impressed by Cass’s firm, rapid solution. “It will be done, my lady. We have a training area set aside for personal combat. Perhaps your august personage would care to observe the proceedings?”

Cass nodded curtly. “I would. Have the girl bathed and properly dressed to service me. I know I can’t expect proper accommodation from a miserable Occidental outpost like this one.”

“It will be done as you command.”

Steph gulped. Well, she’d always liked an excuse to dress up…

***

An hour later, Steph had been bathed, perfumed, and measured by handmaidens—servants of servants who brought her tailored clothes to wear. She was pretty grateful that her serving girls—either kunoichi in their own right or some kind of geishas—were treating her with kid gloves. Clearly, Cass was the sort whose personal property was to be given the utmost care, and since Steph was cosplaying as her property…

The entire process was mostly painless, aside from the handmaidens’ lack of concern for personal space. Steph guessed, since she was another handmaiden, that they figured it was all in the family. The clothes was brought to her after her bath and she changed in the bathroom, dismissing the handmaidens after submitting to them rubbing perfume into her bare body. That, Steph called a timeout on before she could enjoy it too much. Since Cass was their god, Steph was pretty sure this stuff would get back to her.

She didn’t know why they had bothered with getting her measurements. The red cheongsam they put her in was so tight, it might as well have been a size zero. Not very comfortable for anyone who’d been through a pregnancy—or puberty.

Steph wasn’t exactly buxom, but the red outlined her breasts from underboob to cleavage. Not to mention it was a halter top, which flowed up the fronts of her breasts, but left the outer sides untouched. Her back was similarly untouched, while the cheongsam ceased to exist at about her waist, leaving only a generously flowing skirt that fell between her legs and over the curve of her buttocks. It was pretty much a loincloth! At least the lotus blossoms embossed on the fabric looked cute.

But still, going undercover as a hooker twice in one night, Steph thought begrudgingly. At least I’ve gone from the human traffic to a courtesan. That’s upward mobility, baby.

With the cheongsam on, she went out into the luxurious bedroom that had been prepared for her and Cass, trying to act much more composed than she felt. The place had everything but a view, being located far underground below the unassuming hovel that was serving as their cover.

“Happy birthday,” she told Cass with a confident smile she didn’t quite feel. “I couldn’t afford to get you much, so I thought I’d be your sex slave for a week.”

Cass’s eyebrows shot up to her mop of hair. “It will be a lot more… than a week… with you dressed like that.” She went to Steph, picking her up and standing her on the bed and then kissing her belly. The cheongsam was so tight that it was like she was kissing Steph’s bare skin. “You’re already… mine… what does it mean to be my… sex slave?”

“Whatever you want it to mean, Cass,” Steph replied softly, shivering on the inside, feeling like she was taking a big step. “Call me a method actor, but for the next week, I do whatever you want, when you want, how you want. I trust you not to hurt me, so why should I hesitate or even worry?” Steph giggled a little. “Well, I might hesitate some, but I won’t refuse.”

“Good. Because we’ll have… to play the part perfectly… if they’re going to accept… me as their dragon.”

Steph got down from the bed, sitting on the mattress instead. “Like ordering two men to fight to the death?”

“That is… what the bylaws dictate… he was testing me… by asking me to decide.”

“So one of them would die even if we hadn’t come here,” Steph said, seeing how the words tasted. “I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t… either… when we’re here… no one dies…”

“What are you going to do then?”

“For now… play along and… hope they’re evenly matched.”

Steph nodded. “The sooner we find out what they know about Tim, the better.”

“I’m glad… you feel that way… because I need you to be… my sex slave… right now.”