Fan Bingbing
Name: Cassandra Cain
Gender: Female
Place of Birth: Unknown
Age: 17
Aliases: N/A
Origin: Human
Present Location: Gotham City
Occupation: Runaway
Team: N/A
Alignment: Hero
Significant Other(s): N/A
Powers and Abilities: Trained Assassin
Portrayed by: Fan Bingbing

Cassandra Cain's birth wasn't so much foretold as ordained. Over the last several centuries, a secret society of assassins, centered in Asia but with worldwide reach, engaged in a selective breeding program, all in an attempt to create the perfect weapon. The program involved much beyond simple genetics, but methods of education, training and discipline developed and cultivated through rigorous study. Finally, 17 years ago, the truest fruit of that tree came to be. Cassandra was born to the greatest female killer of her age, while her father, David Cain, possessed skills almost as deadly. Even more, David was skilled in the arts of instruction as developed by the League of Assassins. Cassandra, as she was named, would be educated in a way no human ever had…successfully. Previous attempts had resulted in stunted, broken or insane children, quickly removed from the program. Only Cassandra would come to thrive under the strict regime.

On the surface, the system was simple: rather than teach Cassandra to communicate through spoke words or language, her entire self and identity would be repurposed entirely towards the physical - that is, towards the martial arts. The art of fighting, moving, and killing became utterlry ingrained in her mind, the very core of her understanding of the world. Her father almost never spoke, especially in those first years, making sure that her brain was wired in the way they desired. She was fed specific foods, taught certain forms of meditation, and kept on a strict exercise regiment. She was forged, like a sword in fire. And she came out razor sharp.

By the age of eight, Cassandra could already best virtually anyone in straight physical combat, in spite of her small stature and strength. Quick, efficient and skilled beyond reason, her adaptation of movement as language gave her an uncanny insight into the body language of those around her, reading every tick, twitch and bead of sweat. Able to anticipate their movements before they made them, she proved her worth in every test her father put her through. Every test that is, except the final one.

He was no one that important. A middleman in a vast drug empire, vassal to the League of Assassins' lord and far from dangerous. If not for his skimming off the top, he might have lived an easy, simple life of ill-gained luxury. Instead, a nine year old girl crept through his house, disabling and disarming his guards in perfect silence. When she walked into his room, he feared nothing until she leapt across the table where he dined. She struck his nerve points, paralyzing him and then, as she had been taught and practiced a thousand times, she grasps his skull and, with a measured, precise wrench, snapped his neck. As she looked down on her first prey, though, her first kill, Cassandra felt something new. Pity. Sorrow. Guilt. The terror, surprise and shame on the man's face all showed through, his absolute despair as he was plunged into death. And, for the first time, Cassandra truly understood that what her father taught her was no mere game, not something simply for fun, for them to share. She may not have been able to define any ethics or moral code, not even the beginnings of one, but her instincts told her immediately that what she had just done was -wrong-. And so, she did the only thing she could think to do.

She ran.

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On her own, unable to communicate, Cassie nevertheless found a way to live. Her physical skills served her well, allowing her to easily steal the food she needed. Toughened and trained to survive, adverse conditions meant nothing to her, as she simply entered an empty mind state, meditating and focusing herself inwards, leaving the outside cold and weather to fade away. Over time, she travelled the world, hitching rides, trying to stay a step ahead of her father and the League. She was a valuable asset and they wanted her back, badly. She had to kill a few more times over those years, assassins who couldn't be stopped with anything less. She didn't feel good about that. But she didn't know what else she could do. In some ways, she couldn't do anything else. THe training was too ingrained. Her hands were often faster even than her thoughts.

Years passed, but little changed. Now seventeen, Cass has grown, physically and mentally. She can understand most of what people say, can even speak a few words herself, although she rarely does so and feels uncomfortable trying. She still can't read or write, but she isn't as afraid of people as once she was. And she's found a purpose: seeing other street people in trouble, she's learned her skills can be used to protect as well as harm. Settling for a moment in Gotham City, she currently inhabits a raven-filled belltower in an abandoned church in one of the city's worst neighborhoods. The ravens, intelligent beyond most birds, have somewhat taken the silent, black clad girl as her own, sometimes following her as if keeping track. For that reason, she has earned a nickname among the whispered few who've seen her in action: Blackbird. How long she can stay there…and out of the hands of the League…remains to be seen.

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