The Emperor's Talon

Chapter 2: The Child and the Myth

The hooded figure in black turned his gaze away from the fleeing storm troopers towards the boy lying at his feet. His eyes narrowed suspiciously behind the mask. What was this child doing here and why were the troopers after him? No mere child should have been able to survive such a race against them for so long.

Examining the boy more closely, the figure discovered several serious injuries. This boy should be dead, but he wasn't. Then again, the kid wasn't completely alive either. There were strange pale blue markings on his neck and face. He was cold to the touch. His gold and black armor, reminiscent of an owl, was stained with blood.

Suddenly, the pieces started falling into place and realization dawned. The figure in black reeled back a pace. The facts hit him hard. This boy lying unconscious before him was the fabled Emperor's child Talon. Many people thought this child was just a myth. They considered the Talon nothing more than whispered rumor that had evolved into ghost stories children told each other on nights like this, when the moon was in her full and hanging low and red over the city.

Shortly after the rise of the Empire, people claimed to have seen a child, dressed in black armor, flying away into the night like an owl. And in its wake, was death. A quiet murder in the night of those who dared oppose Emperor Palpatine. They called it "the Talon" after other ghost stories about the Court of Owls. But there was never a shred of evidence to prove that the child Talon was real, and thus, the stories remained shrouded in doubt and legend.

But now, the figure in black knew for certain that these stories were no myth. Here was the child lying on the hard, cold ground at his feet. He was real. His crimes were real. This boy should die. He should not be allowed to commit murder on behalf of an evil empire anymore. Gotham, the capital of Alvorine, was his city, the Batman's city. And he would not allow anyone to bring the Emperor's death to his city.

He should kill this murderous Talon where it lay. It was half dead already. When one more death served so many lives, the price was worth it. How could he allow such a one as this loose in his city to murder at will on the orders of a mad tyrant?

The Batman took another step back. He drew a knife from his belt. He steadied his grip on the handle. He raised the sharp dagger aloft as he moved closer and poised himself to strike. Once he ran the gleaming white blade through the Talon's heart, it would all be over.

Or would it?

The Talon, no the child, moved slightly. Batman kneeled beside the boy and looked hard at his face. Asleep, he looked so young and innocent; venerable even. Aside from the blue markings on his skin, he looked like any other ordinary child. His raven bangs were damp against his forehead. His eyelashes lay flat against his cheeks which were feverishly red in contrast to his white skin. Most likely from the cold.

For a moment, Batman believed that he must be mistaken. How could this child be a legendary killer? He reminded himself of all the stories. Of all the deaths this Child Talon had wrought in the service of an evil master. But perhaps that was what stayed his hand. When he looked into the face of the myth and saw a mere boy, he realized that the Talon was a shaped weapon fashioned from a living being.

Even as he tried to rekindle his earlier resolve to fulfill his silent promise and save the galaxy from the Talon, Batman let the knife slip between his fingers and fall into the frosty dirt beside the boy. Killing this child served no real purpose. The Emperor would surely send another to do his dirty work should the Talon fail. Vader or the Inquisitors came to mind. All Batman would accomplish by killing the boy would be the breaking of his own moral code.

"Idiot!" he cursed himself.

Hands shaking form his brush with the Dark Side, Batman brushed pine needles and dirt from the boy's unruly hair. Now that he had resolved not to kill the kid, he needed to decide what to do with him. He couldn't just leave the boy here on the ground. That would be tantamount to letting an assassin loose in his city. Child or not, this boy was dangerous. He considered bringing the boy to the jail where he would be kept in juvenile detention, but he was injured and, in all likely hood, a master escape artist.

Without another clear option, Batman lifted the boy into his arms. He was lightweight and easy to carry. Batman tucked him safely to his chest and attached his grappling gun to the top of the wall. From there, he soared out into the frozen night over Gotham City.

Thanks for Reading. I hope you are enjoying the story.