GOTHAM CITY
12:00 AM
ONE YEAR BEFORE THE NIGHT OF THE OWLS
Dick Grayson never walked, he flew. As a kid, a flying Grayson, he flew on the trapeze with his parents, the worlds finest acrobats. But then they fell, and he kept on flying. As Robin, the Boy Wonder, he flew with the Batman across the grimy streets of Gotham, beating up bad guys and saving the people who needed saving. His parents had never had a net, so he decided to be other peoples net, to catch them before they hit the ground. Then, Robin got too small, or he got too big, and he shed Robin's feathers for Nightwing's, to fly solo over the streets of Bludhaven, a city more in need of a net than even Gotham.
Tonight, though, Nightwing wasn't soaring above Bludhaven. He was patrolling over the streets of Gotham as a favor to the Bat, who was currently off-world on a mission. So far he'd stopped three almost-muggings, a convenience store robbery, and two idiot kids who thought it would be funny to write 'I wuz here' in spray paint on the Gotham National History Museum. They didn't think cleaning it up with steel wool and bleach was quite as funny, though. Nightwing thought it was hilarious.
As he grappled over Gotham Park, he heard a scream of pain. Fast as a lightning bolt, he'd switched directions and swung in the direction of the scream. He landed in a tree above what appeared to be a murder-in-progress. The murderer was dressed in a black body suit with what appeared to be an owl theme. The murderee was none other than James Smith, Mayor Hady's personal aid. He currently had a long, thin knife with a wrought iron owl handle stuck through his left calf and into the ground. Ouch.
Nightwing jumped out of the tree and landed lightly on the ground. "Hey, Featherbutt! Why don't you pick on someone your own size!" The owl dude ignored him, which kind of ticked him off. So he decided to tackle him. And he would've, had the guy's leg not snapped out with inhuman speed and caught him right in the gut. "Ooof!" He fell back on his butt, the wind completely knocked out of him. Featherbutt raised another knife - where had he pulled that out of?- and spoke for the first time.
"James Smith, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die." The knife fell, and James Smith went limp.
Meanwhile, Nightwing had managed to get back up on his feet. He glared a the owl guy with absolute hatred. "You really shouldn't have done that." The man turned to face him, and Nightwing swallowed his fear. There was just something so fundamentally wrong with the way he moved. He spoke again.
"Nightwing. For crimes against the Court of Owls, you have been sentenced to a trial by the Grandmaster." Nightwing grinned. "You know, you're not the first crazy nutcase in an animal costume who's tried to kidnap me. What makes you think you'll be the last?"
"I am Talon. I do not make mistakes. I will not fail the Court." He leapt at Nightwing, and Dick tried to dodge, but another insanely fast kick caught him in the chest and he felt a couple ribs snap like twigs. However, Nightwing had fought through worse injuries, and he easily returned the favor. He broke 'Talon's' arm in two places, elbow and wrist. Talon stopped and looked at this.
"You'll have to do better than that." Two sharp cracks echoed through the clearing as Talon's arm snapped back into place.
Nightwing stared in astonishment. First, the guy hadn't even flinched at a broken arm, then it had healed in ten seconds. While Nightwing was gaping, Talon was charging. Talon hit him in the back of the head and Nightwing's last thought before he faded into unconsiousness was this was the lamest fight I have ever been in.
0000
When he came to, he found himself in some sort of amphitheater. In the stands sat dozens of men and women, all wearing masks that resembled a barn owls face. That, combined with the dim lighting and absolute silence made for a seriously creepy enviroment. Finally, one of them stepped forward. He had the same white mask as the others, but was wearing a black cape that appeared to be made out of feathers. Nightwing reached up and made sure his mask was still in place.
"Nightwing", stated the man, who he assumed was the Grandmaster. "The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die. But first, you will remove your mask." Nightwing glared, all attempt at humor gone out the window. He was beginning to sense he was in serious trouble here.
"Like hell I will."
"Very well." He nodded his head at two men standing invisibly in the shadows of the arena. One was Talon, and the other was dressed in an almost identical costume. They stepped forward and restrained Nightwing, while the Grandmaster stepped forward and harshly ripped off his domino mask. As they saw his face, shock rippled through the gathered Court.
"Richard Grayson. The Lost Heir. The Gray Son of Gotham. You have returned to us." Dick was confused.
"How can I have returned to you if I was never with you in the first place?" Grandmaster stepped forward and cupped Dick's face in his hands.
"You were meant to be with us from the very start." He looked at Talon. "Change of plans. William Cobb! Meet your great-grandson. You will begin his conditioning and training once he is fully healed."
0000
Dick had to put this out there. There were worse places to be held against your will. He was currently shackled to an old fashioned four posted bed, but hey, he could be lying on a metal slab in a moldy dungeon. And he he was getting three meals a day. Quality service there. And yeah, sure, there was that whole shackled-to-a-bed-thing, and a couple of highly trained assassins guarding his door (Apparently they were all called Talon), but how many super-secret organized crime syndicates do you know that give their prisoners a bed and food?
As he was musing upon this, the door to his cell, sorry, room, flew open violently, and William Cobb walked in. He stopped by Dick's side and began undoing the cuffs. "You're letting me go? Aw, thanks Gramps! I knew you would come to your senses!" Cobb stiffened.
"The Court has deemed you healed enough to begin your conditioning. And do not call me Gramps. You will address me as Grandfather or Talon."
"Sure thing, Gramps."
Cobb nodded as if he had just been proven right about something. "Insolence. I suppose we'll have to beat that out of you, Grandson." Well. That didn't sound good. "Follow me."
Dick followed Cobb to a training room, where a Talon uniform was roughly thrown at him. "Put that on."
"No."
Suddenly, an owl handled knife appeared at his throat. Dick put the uniform on. All I have to do is hold out until Batman can find me, he told himself. He won't leave me here.
Cobb waited until he was finished and then said, "Try and kill me."
"Umm... What?" Dick asked intelligently. Cobb sighed and muttered something about Just his luck to get a brain-dead, half-witted, drooling moron for a grandson.
"I want you", Cobb stated slowly, "To try to kill me. To attempt to end my life."
0000
The first time Dick killed his grandfather, it was a complete accident. It was after ten hours of Cobb beating the crap out of him and insulting his family and friends. Dick threw a roundhouse kick at his head just a little bit too hard, and Cobb's head snapped to the side with an audible crack! as he crumpled in a heap. Dick went to a corner and dry-heaved. He had sworn never to kill someone, he'd just broken Batmans rule number one. On his own flesh and blood, no less. He turned around to see his grandfather staring at him. Perfectly fine. He was shocked. "Good work, Gray Son. We'll make a Talon out of you yet. Training resumes tomorrow."
The last time, Dick killed him within the first five miutes, because he was tired and frustrated, and it didn't count as killing someone if they kept on coming back to life, right? That's what he told himself, anyways. Cobb staightened up. "Well done. You are ready for the next phase of conditioning, grandson."
He felt a blow to the back of his head and went out like a light.
When he awoke, he found himself in some sort of enclosed maze. The walls were white, the floor was white, and the ceiling was white. It was driving him batty. (Haha, get it?) Suddenly, he felt a presence in his mind, not M'gann or Martian Manhunter, but still familiar, in a bad way.
Miss me?, asked Psimons voice in his head.
Like the flu, Dick thought back.
Oh, well... I guess not all sentiments can be shared. Anyway, the crazy owl people have hired me to remake you into their perfect little Talon. I would much rather kill you, but I was only too happy to oblige.
Love you too, Dick thought, right before searing pain erupted through his psyche. He forgot everything exept makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopstopstopstopstop. Eventually, he blacked out, again.
0000
When he woke up, he had no idea where he was. It looked like... a white maze? He also had no idea who he was. That was scary. He suddenly realized that he was wearing a mask. He reached up and pulled it off. It was ... owl themed? That didn't seem right. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed out of nowhere. He spun in a circle trying to figure out where it was coming from, but he couldn't see any speakers.
"Talon. You will replce your mask." He looked around but didn't see anyone else. Did that make him 'Talon'? Didn't seem right. The voice rang out again. "Gray Son. Did you not hear me?" Gray Son. That sounded slightly better. He replaced the mask.
He wandered through the maze for what felt like forever. I hope there's no Scorch Trials after this.
He stopped and frowned. Where had that thought come from? And what wäs a 'Scorch Trial'? He felt like he was at the very edge of remembering, but something pulled him back.
He shook his head in frustration and kept walking. After a few more hours of walking he started feeling dehydrated. A few more and he became hungry. A few more and he was ready to pass out, when he suddenly came upon a guy hog tied in the center of a corridor.
The voice spoke again. "If you kill him Talon, you will be freed from the labyrinth. Just say, 'John Ward. The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.' Then end it." Talon (That must have been his name) frowned under the mask.
"Why?"
"You will not question the Court!", they snarled. "But if you absolutely must know, he is a very bad man who has been embezzeling money from the citzens of Gotham for years." Talon felt rage bubble up in his chest.
"And no one has done anything?"
"You are about to.", the voice said.
The man looked up at him with teared filled eyes. "Please. I have a family, a wife and a daughter. I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!" Talon gazed down unemotionally.
"John Ward. The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die." He drew a knife from the bandolier on his chest. John twitched once and lay still.
After the deed was done, a section of the wall slid up, and two people dressed like him walked forward. One of them clapped him on the shoulder. "You did well, grandson. Now you shall truly become one of us." Grandson? As if he could sense what Talon was thinking, he said, "Do you remember me?" Talon shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Grandfather."
"That's fine.", He replied. "You were hurt very badly and the procedure was expected to give you memory loss. This next one will hurt terribly, but it's only to keep you safe." Talon bowed his head.
"Of course, Grandfather." But you didn't say how I was hurt or anything about the man I just killed. Something's not right. For some reason, thinking of John Ward made him feel violently ill.
They led him to room with something that reminded Talon uncomfortably of an electric chair. They told him to sit and then strapped him in. He was overwhelmed by the sensation of a thousand needles poking through his skin. Then, liquid fire began flowing through his veins. He couldn't hold back a scream and soon passed out. When he awoke, his Grandfather was standing over him. He informed Talon that he was to be retired until the Court had further use for him. Until then, he was to begin his new training. Grandfather smiled sadistically at this.
Talon knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to forget the weeks that followed. Apparently Talons were not allowed to feel pain, so they hurt him physically, over and over again, until he stopped reacting. Now they were leading him down a dark hallway. They entered a huge room, one that appeared to be lined wall to wall with coffins. They stopped in front of one labeled GRAYSON, and ordered him to get in. He obeyed, too numb to think about disobeying. Once he was in, the door closed and the temperature dropped. He tried to stay awake, but it was so cold, and he was so tired... he blacked out.
When he came to, he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't move. He just endured. He wondered if he was dead. Then he remembered he couldn't, not anymore. He kind of wished he could. Existing like this was torture.