This is part of a larger continuity of stories. Please consult my profile for the master reading list if you want to read them in order.

Hello again! So I haven't updated this world in awhile, but this was a piece that needed to be written and it jumped into my head, out of my fingers, and here you are! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings for: some violence, and minor character death.

"So what are the plans tonight?"

Dick is nearly bouncing, rolling his weight from side to side as he follows at my heels, walking down the stairs of the apartment building we're in. He almost never stops moving unless he has to, and he's particularly energetic tonight because I haven't given him much other outlet for that energy. I kept us in until late, almost too late to even bother with heading out into the city. It's only two am, but night fell a long time ago and Dick's been ready to go for hours.

"You're not keeping me quiet," he points out, "so wherever we're going it's not about the stealth. If it was a meeting I'd know about it, and you'd be shutting me up if we were ambushing someone. So we're here for what, surveillance on another building? Just gotta get the right window to get a good view?"

Not a bad guess.

I take a turn out of the stairwell and onto the right floor, and there's a woman in the corridor who goes impressively pale and then runs the opposite direction. Dick twitches like he wants to go after her, but stays by my side as I turn away from her and head towards the door I want.

"I have a present for you," I say over my shoulder.

That stills him for a second, and then he rushes to make up the small distance he lost. "A present?" he echoes. "What's the occasion?"

Instead of answering I head to the right door — number twenty-two — and open it, stepping inside. Dick follows and I shut the door behind us before flicking on the lights. It's a bad neighborhood and a fairly terrible section of apartments, so the lighting is dim. It's good enough to illuminate the man tied to a chair in the middle of the room though.

Tony Zucco. The man that caused the deaths of Dick's parents by cutting partway through their line. A mistake I wasn't tolerant of when it happened, and have become even less tolerant of as time's gone on. I nearly killed him the day I realized that just a few more tricks, a few more moments, and Dick would have fallen along with his parents. The thought that his mistake might have cost me my time with Dick, might have killed him, made me furious. But I held back.

Zucco isn't mine to kill.

Dick glances at me and his expression tells me that he's curious, confused, and a bit wary. He doesn't know why he's here, or who I've brought to him. I nod my head towards Zucco, and Dick follows my instruction without a word. He moves a little closer, looks at the bound man, barely even shifts when brown eyes widen in terror and a whine makes it past the gag. Anyone confronted with Talon should be terrified, after all, that's why he exists.

"Wait," Dick murmurs after a second of studying. "I know you." He takes another step forward, faster this time and more sure of himself, one hand rising to grip Zucco's chin and jerk it up. The light falls on his face a little better, and I can see the tension raise Dick's shoulders, see it tighten his grip on my captive's chin until the small claws on his gloves split skin.

I can see the second he realizes exactly who he's face to face with, because he jerks his hand away and steps back, his head snapping towards me in a silent demand to know what's going on.

"Show him who you are," I order, keeping my voice soft.

Dick hesitates for a second, but then he raises his right hand and catches the edge of the black mask, prying it off of his face before turning towards the man in the chair. Zucco goes very pale at the sight of Dick's face, and then struggles against the ropes holding him down and starts babbling something against the gag. Incomprehensible, but it's easy to see that he's terrified.

"What's going on, Owlman?" Dick asks, looking back at me.

I shift from my spot, moving towards the two of them and circling back around to stand behind Zucco. "That's your choice," I answer. I take a small knife from my belt, splitting the fabric of the gag to let it fall out of his mouth. He seems frozen between us; not surprising. "You know who this is?"

Dick nods. "Tony Zucco." His gaze drops, anger obvious in his eyes. "You killed my parents," he almost snarls.

"On his orders!" Zucco gasps, with a jerk of his head up towards me. Dick's gaze snaps to me, and there's a bit of wariness there, a bit of betrayal.

"I gave him the order to warn Haly's Circus that a refusal to pay me a small percentage of the ticket sales would not be tolerated," I admit. Before Dick's eyes can do more than widen a touch, before he can do more than drag in a sharp breath, I continue. "I did not order him to kill the headlining act that was the source of all that profit. You know how I work, Talon."

Dick exhales slowly, watching me, and then gives a small nod. "A warning from you would be much smaller," he agrees. "Less important circus members, or equipment, not what's making the money. I know you'd never sacrifice profit unless you had to. What happened?"

I echo his nod, communicating gratitude for his faith in me. "Mr. Zucco has been in Arkham. I gave Mr. Haly a face to face apology, free protection and care for his employees whenever he was in Gotham, and more than enough money to keep the circus running for the rest of his life, even without his headliners. Your parents were never supposed to be casualties; neither were you. Not even if he'd continued to refuse payment. I brought Mr. Zucco here tonight."

"So why now?" is Dick's next question. "If he's been in Arkham this whole time, why have this happen now?"

Zucco tries to speak, and I wrap my hand around his mouth and jerk his head back a couple of inches to keep him quiet. "You've grown, you've learned, and you're ready now. You deserve the right to decide what happens to your parents' killer, I was just saving him until you were ready to make that choice. Whatever you wish to do you may, and I will not interfere. Take whatever vengeance you want."

Dick's eyes are narrowed, and Zucco whimpers past my hand as Dick's gaze lowers to him. I can see the studying edge to his expression, as he sweeps an appraising look down Zucco and then back up. "Anything I want?"

"Anything," I confirm.

Dick stares for another long few moments. His expression is smooth, but his eyes are darkening as his mouth curls a little bit down, into a small snarl with a flash of sharp teeth. Then he raises his hand and presses his mask back into place.

"Let him run."

I smirk, release Zucco's mouth as I grab a knife from my belt, and then slice through the ropes holding him to the chair. I take a step back, watching the way Dick's hands have fallen to rub over the hilts of the long knives strapped to his thighs, how Zucco is scrambling to his feet. Dick purposefully slides to the side, his body slipping into the focused precision of a hunting gait. It leaves the path to the door wide open, and when Zucco steps back instead I give a small, threatening growl. It makes him flinch forward, whip his head around to me and then to look at Dick again.

"Run," Dick hisses, and lunges forward about half a step. It's a threat, not an attack, but it works.

Zucco bolts, and Dick gives a clear, ringing laugh with more than a little bit of a vicious edge and darts after him. As he slips out the door I can see him draw one of his knives into his right hand, the blade glinting and polished. I let myself smirk again, and turn for the window instead of following. I slip outside, climbing the side of the building to get to the rooftop because it will give me the best view of all exit points. I don't have to follow; Zucco's no threat and I trust Dick to take care of himself. If he wants a chase then he'll drive Zucco out to the street.

Sure enough, it's only about a minute and a half — we were a few stories up — before the door below me slams open, and I watch Zucco stumble outside. Dick is at his heels, and as I watch he leaps forward and lashes out, slicing into the back of Zucco's right thigh. My former employee cries out, staggers, but then rallies himself and runs. He's limping, and when he passes right under a street lamp I realize that Dick's already scored a few other hits too. Zucco's right hand is bloody, as is the front of his left calf and a spot just below his left ear. Dick's smaller, but he's keeping pace easily and regularly darting in to carve new small wounds into Zucco's flesh, like a wolf at the heels of a much larger piece of prey.

I follow from the rooftops, listening to Zucco as he pleads and sobs for mercy. Dick drives him down the middle of the street, and I spare a few glances towards the couple people foolish enough to be out this late in this bad of a neighborhood, but not a one of them has any reaction to seeing Dick — my Talon — except to run or to dart back inside their buildings. That's certainly the healthy choice, especially considering that Zucco is more bloody than not now, and he's leaving a trail behind him.

Eventually, a few blocks down, Zucco collapses onto the asphalt. He's shaking, and Dick starts circling him as he crawls, the cuts coming faster as if in retaliation for the lack of forward movement. I can see that Dick's mouth is curled into a snarl, that his hand is tight around the knife. My smirk is steady on my face, and I attach my grapnel to the roof of my current building and drop down to get on the same level as them. Dick spares me a glance but nothing more, and I lean back against the nearest building and settle in to watch.

When Zucco stops crawling Dick kicks him onto his back, still circling but slower now, more deliberate. He looks like he's going to go in for the kill, but then he stops at Zucco's side, head tilted and just watching. Zucco's still sobbing, but he's stopped saying any words that are understandable even though his noises definitely sound like pleas.

I shift off the wall, moving to stand at Dick's back. He looks back and up at me. "You said you wouldn't interfere," he says, his voice quiet but almost defensive. As if he thinks I would take this from him.

"I won't," I reassure him. "Are you going to finish him?"

Dick holds my gaze for a long moment, and then rolls both his shoulders back and slides his knife into its sheath. "No." For half a second Zucco's expression twists with relief, and then Dick sinks down into a crouch, fingertips bracing against the ground. "He'll bleed out if I wait."

Sharp pride blooms in my chest and I let myself follow Dick down into a crouch, reaching out to clasp my hand over his shoulder. "Well done," I praise, and then squeeze his shoulder once before I get back to my feet. "Take your time, Talon. We're in no hurry."

Zucco whimpers, and then gasps out, "Please! I'm s-sorry!"

Dick's head tilts to one side, proving he's listening, but he doesn't answer. I walk away as Zucco continues to beg, reaching down to activate the command to bring the car to us. Given his wounds I know Zucco won't last long, and I think Dick will want to go home once it's done. Even if he isn't sure, I think it would be best if he had the rest of the night to process everything without distractions. He's killed on my orders before, a few times, but he's never killed someone of his own volition. Hurt, certainly, but he's never chosen to take that final step to end someone's life. It's never been personal before.

Whatever he might believe, I know that it takes a bit of time to come to terms with the first kill you want to make. Facing that kind of darkness in yourself isn't simple; not when you haven't accepted it yet. I still remember when I was finally powerful enough to get my hands on the cop that murdered my parents. It felt good to repay all that pain and anger, but once the high had faded it made me wonder what I was really capable of. If the vengeance I'd pursued had made me truly evil, and I'd lost any sense of right or wrong along the way. I wondered if I would be the next person to murder a child's parents and beat them into silence, and my own cruelty would create the person that would one day kill me in turn.

I had to come to terms with the fact that I'm capable of a lot of things, but that didn't inherently make me cruel or evil. I'm not kind, I'm certainly not 'good,' and I don't consider myself to be a nice person, but there are lines I will never cross. Dick will have to come to terms with his own demons and his own moral lines, whatever they may be. He'll need the time to do that, whether it's alone or with me at his side for support. Whatever he needs.

I settle myself against the building again, and it's only a couple of minutes before the car comes down the street. Slow and silent, since it's still on stealth mode and my command didn't change that. I have no other plans for the night so there's no need for it to have arrived any faster; this is a night that I've been planning ever since Dick became my Talon.

The car parks itself in front of me, and I pull out the phone ensconced in one of my belt's pouches and set to work doing a few menial tasks. Nothing important or time urgent, but small check ups on running operations or ones set to start in the next few days. Things I can check off my ever-full list of things that should or need to be done. I have enough to keep me occupied for much longer than this will take, and I won't rush Dick. He deserves to savor this.

This is actually much neater than my own vengeance was. I let emotion get the better of me; I could have stretched it out for much longer, and really enjoyed the cop's suffering. I recognize that in hindsight, but I don't regret the damage I did do. It just means that I'm proud of Dick for taking his time and not letting his emotions push him into ending it faster.

Eventually it feels like it's been too long, and when I look up Dick is still crouching there but Zucco is still and pale. Not breathing.

I tuck my phone away and head for him, taking another moment to absolutely confirm that Zucco is dead before I lean down and touch Dick's shoulder. "Talon," I murmur, "it's over. He's gone."

"Not yet," Dick answers, his voice low and intense. "It's not done yet."

I'm not entirely certain what he's talking about, but I straighten up and leave him alone anyway. He doesn't sound like he's cracking, or breaking down, so if he's not ready to go that's his decision. I move over to sit on the hood of the car, and just wait for him.

Eventually Dick moves, slowly rising to his feet and then pausing there for a moment. I watch as he turns to me, moving across the street to stand next to me. His hand touches the hood of the car next to me, and he's looking at the ground and not meeting my gaze.

"Ten minutes," he says after a second, and then he turns his head and looks up at me. "Now it's done; no one can bring him back."

Ah.

I give a small nod, and then ask him, "The body?"

Dick's mouth curls into a sneer. "Leave it for the animals or the cops," he all but spits, and then he's slipping around the car and opening the other door to get inside.

I get in on my side, and set the car on automatic to take us back to the manor, deactivating its stealth setting. I can barely hear the roar of the engine as it takes off, and I look over to Dick. He's still and staring out the window, and I take a moment to soak in the blood on his hands and speckled on his left cheek.

"How do you feel?" I ask, keeping my voice quiet.

He's silent for a long moment, and then he turns to look at me. "Satisfied," he says, with a slow nod. "It—" His hands curl in his lap, into fists, and he breathes out even as his mouth curls into something like a snarl. "It felt good. He deserved it."

I give him a small smirk. "Good."

Another moment of silence. "Is that what you did?" Dick's question is curious, but almost shy, like he doesn't think I'm going to answer.

"Yes, and no. I didn't have the restraint to take my time." I raise my right hand to brush my hand over Dick's cheek, and then lightly grip the back of his neck. "I'm proud of you, Dick."

I can see him relax, and he tilts his head into my arm. I'd bet that his eyes are closed, underneath the guard of the mask. "Where are we heading?" he asks, just barely above a whisper and without moving.

"Home," I answer, as I check the navigation and timing. "I think we're overdue for some dinner and a few good movies."

Dick snorts. "It's like two am," he points out, "there's nothing 'good' on."

"That's what streaming services are for," I counter. "I'll even let you pick the movie, Dick."

"You always let me pick the movie, because you just pretend to watch it and then fall asleep." He twists his head, cheek rubbing against the metal of my gauntlet. "The effort's the point; at least you don't snore. Loudly."

"Brat," I accuse, with a small smile. It's still not a feeling I'm used to, but my love for Dick has taken over a big chunk of my heart. He's my son; I don't care that we don't share blood.

"Faker," he answers, and then grins. "Yeah, a couple movies sounds great. Think we can badger Alfred into watching with us?"

"Doubtful. You can try if you want, but if he asks I didn't give you permission or support."

Dick's laugh is still the brightest thing in my entire life. "You got it, boss."