The mercenary entered his office and nodded once. Luthor smiled through the pain of his Kryptonite-induced cancer and decided to let the young woman live. Why take another moral dilemma from the shoulders of that damned farm boy?
A terrifying noise shook all the windows in the city.
"Ah, " said Luthor. "He has found out."
The mercenary girl shrugged, unconcerned.
He had been better than she had expected. Trained, ferocious, though, unexpectedly clever at times. He had used his equipment and environment with deadly enthusiasm, and had shown no reluctance to employ whatever weapon he could find. He had had more potential than he had known, and as his death became closer and more apparent, his skills rose almost high enough to save him.
In the end, she had had to use an improvised hand weapon. So inelegant.
To honor him, she left the bloodied crowbar over her brother's tomb.
She didn't mean to. But it had been her second night alone in the city streets. She was hungry, cold and afraid of herself, and when the man tried to approach her, she lashed out blindly. The next thing she know, the man and the woman were dead, and the kid was kneeling among his mother's pearls.
(I know this makes no sense, timeline-wise, or even motivation-wise. I just wanted to get that image out of my head. If Bruce ever dated Cass, I bet he would dream this scenario at least once.)
He didn't ask why. He fought as well as he could, and almost killed her.
He died with a proud smile in his face.
Cassandra closed her father's eyes, sat next to his mauled body and waited to see if she would weep.