The Emperor's Talon

Chapter 9: Amber Eyes

Bruce rode the turbo-lift down to the 41st floor and his lavish office. He threw off his overclaok and dropped the briefcase on his desk. The window which stretched from floor to ceiling, wall to wall gave him- not quite the view he had from the roof- but still a good look at the city and the sun reflecting off the shining buildings.

Finally settling behind his desk, Bruce looked over his agenda for the day. If he was lucky, there would be enough space to talk to Commissioner Gordon of Gotham City's dwindling civilian police force. Bruce liked the man. Though he had to comply in some ways with the Empire's regulations, Gordon still held on to the ideals of the lost Republic in secret. And while Bruce was rather of the opinion that the Republic had been majorly flawed, he appreciated the man's dedication to such ideals as they were far superior to those of the Empire.

Bruce groaned as his looked over his to-do list for the day. He had another meeting with an Imperial representative who was undoubtedly looking to bring Wayne Enterprises under the umbrella of Count Vidian's weapons conglomerate. Such a thing was impossible of course; Bruce was easily as powerful as the count even without backing from the Empire. He was dreading spending hours of his day dealing with this; seeing as he would never allow Wayne Enterprises' R&D department to make weapons or spy-tech for an Empire he royally despised. Other than that, he had paper work and smaller meetings to deal with. On the bright side, he did have time to see the Commissioner.

He picked up his data-pad and got to work. After hours of paper-work, tedious negotiations, small talk, and listening to and making implied treats behind the façade of cordial smiles, Bruce was done with the day. Having had his secretary make a call to the Gotham City Police department, he awaited the arrival of his friend.

"Commissioner Gordon," greeted Bruce Wayne rising behind his felucian-wood desk to shake the man's hand, "thank you for coming to see me."

"A pleasure, Bruce," smiled Gordon, "what can I do for you."

Bruce smiled wryly for a moment. "I don't suppose you could save me from board meetings and paper-work."

"I'm afraid not," laughed Gordon.

"But in truth, I was wondering if you have any information on that Talon the Storm Troopers are looking for," said Bruce sobering the mood a little.

Gordon's mustache twitched. "I'm not sure what I'm at liberty to divulge, Bruce."

And now it was time to pull out the idiot-Bruce-Wayne-card. He smiled. "Please…you know me, I like to know everything that happens in Gotham. And this is by far the most interesting story in a long time."

"And what of those thugs the Batman left tangled in Mrs. Saddan's clothes line? I must say, I never knew under-garments made such excellent hand-cuffs."

"Old stuff," scoffed Bruce, "the Batman's been pulling stunts around here for years. I want to know about the Talon."

"Oh Bruce," sighed Gordon in resignation. "If it's stories you're after, I suppose I can entertain your curiosity for a few minutes. Ok, so here's the deal; the GCPD is supposed to be on the lookout for the Talon but all we have is a holo-shot of his mask. We don't even know what the kid looks like. Nobody's seen him in months; until last night that is. Rumor is he showed up, saved Batman, and vanished. The storm troopers are going crazy trying to find him."

"Fascinating!" exclaimed Bruce, having already picked up on a valuable tid-bit of information. "How are you going to find him if you don't know what he looks like? Did you ask the troopers for a description at least?"

Gordon nodded. "All we know is that he's about 12-years-old, lithe, muscular, and that he had frightful amber eyes."

"Amber?"

"Yeah. Haven't seen too many humans with yellow eyes myself."

"Should be easy to spot then," Bruce commented. Of course, he knew better; the Talon may have bright golden eyes but fortunately, Dick Grayson had eyes like the lakes of Nabboo in high summer. This could work out nicely.

"Maybe," Gordon responded cautiously. "There are a lot of people in Gotham."

"No kidding," laughed Bruce indicating the window with two fingers.

Gordon smiled too. "Anything else I can do for you while I'm here?"

"Ah yeah, there is actually. What would I need to do to become the legal guardian of my cousin's son?"

The commissioner quirked a grey eyebrow. He was used to Bruce making odd requests or surprising him with shocking near scandals, but this was something else. Considering the fact that this was the rather eccentric playboy billionaire, he supposed he should not have been surprised. "Well now, I can't say that I know," answered Gordon thoughtfully, "how old is the boy?"

Bruce smiled. "Coincidently, 12."

"Got amber eyes?" jested Gordon.

"Nah, blue."

"Ah well, guess I'll have to keep looking then. Where is he now?"

"He's in an orphanage on Dantine, in the outer-rim."

"Funny," said Gordon rubbing his chin, "I didn't know you had a cousin."

"That's understandable. He died on Raxis Prime during the Clone Wars. I thought the kid died too, but it appears I was mistaken." Bruce wasn't sure if he was pushing things too hard at this point, but Gordon didn't appear to see the connection between his two questions. He'd just keep on playing the idiot and minimally bending the truth where he needed to. The more hints he dropped, the easier it would be to get the Commissioner on board with helping him get Richard a civilian ID. It did help that Bruce really did have a cousin who died on Raxis Prime. The man had a son- about Richard's age- who died with him. From there, the records would be easy to falsify. Bruce had gotten good at that as Batman.

"Well that sounds exciting, Bruce," Gordon congratulated. "Though I find it hard to think of you as the nurturing type."

"That makes two of us!" They laughed together. "Alderanian Brandy?"

"Thank you," answered Gordon accepting the proffered glass of smooth liquor. After taking a sip, he continued, "I'd talk to Governor Vox's office and the Imperial Civilian Registration Bureau. From there it shouldn't be too hard; since you are the boy's next of kin."

"Thanks for the advice, James. And your interesting stories about Talon saved my day from being a complete bore."

"The CEO of Wayne Enterprises gets bored?" joked Gordon.

Bruce growled. "There is a reason those things are called bored meetings." And he just made a pun. Idiot Bruce Wayne persona or not, the kid was rubbing off on him already. Bruce wasn't sure if he should extend his daily brooding time allowance to keep such unwanted influence to a minimum. Certainly, Gordon seemed to enjoy it. The man's gray eyes twinkled with mirth. They continued to talk over their brandy about politics, business, and Gordon's daughter Barbra for another hour or so. Then the head of the GCPD took his leave.

Bruce leaned back in his comfortable leather chair and steepled his fingers. If he played his cards right with the Empire's dense stooges, he should have little to no fuss becoming Richard's legal guardian. As the charge of Bruce Wayne, the kid would become practically untouchable; assuming he- Bruce Wayne- remained in favor with the Empire.

With a sigh, Bruce packed up his work and headed back to his speeder, then home. Outside, a band of violet twilight glimmered behind the glass and dura-steel buildings of Gotham City. The air had cooled by near ten degrees standard with the evening breeze. Lights in office buildings around the city were blinking on one by one and the windows began to glow yellow against the darkening sky. Beyond the shining stalagmite-like structure of the city, in Gotham's posh residential district, was Wayne manor.

Reaching home, he threw his stuff aside once again and prepared himself for dinner. He sat down at the long dining-room table and Alfred placed a plate of steaming nerf-steak, asparagus, and mashed shurra root in front of him.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"You're very welcome, sir. With your permission, I asked Master Richard to join you."

Dick appeared in the doorway before Bruce could think of a response. He looked at Bruce with bright eyes, "Alfred said I should join you. I hope I'm not intruding."

Bruce thought about it for a moment. If he was indeed serious about taking the boy in for good and giving him a home with a safe civilian persona, he'd have to get used to having the kid around. With more pleasure than he expected to feel, Bruce looked back at Dick and motioned to another chair. "No, you're not intruding at all."

The Imperial Palace; Corucant:

"Lord Vader," greeted Emperor Palpatine as a shimmering blue holo-graphic image of his apprentice flickered to life at his feet. "How goes your plan to recapture our escaped Talon?"

"The wheels are in motion, my master," answered Darth Vader deferentially. "Deathstroke and Boba Fett are even now on their way to Gotham."

"Good. Give it another two weeks before you pull half our garrison from Gotham. If we move too soon, the Talon will catch onto our plans. I fear you trained him too well, my apprentice," hissed Sidious. It was sometimes hard to tell when he was reservedly angry or indifferent or looking for a reaction.

"He was a faithful servant for years, my master," Vader attempted to defend himself.

"Indeed," the Emperor drawled dismissively, "the fault lies with those fools who let him escape."

"They are scheduled for execution tomorrow," Vader assured him.

"Well done, Lord Vader. For now, concentrate your efforts on the Rebellion on Lothol. The district governor and Grand Inquisitor are having a more difficult time than perhaps they should."

"It shall be done my master."

Wayne Manor, Gotham City:

The following evening in the batcave, the former Talon flipped gracefully over the high barre in a complicated release move before re-gripping it and swinging his body around in a 180-degree circle. He balanced in the handstand for a moment; then swooped around the barre again a few times before launching himself into a flashy dismount. Dick stuck the landing perfectly. He turned back towards the observation platform where Batman had just emerged; arms folded over his chest, face inscrutable.

By now, Dick was used to that lurking presence; and rather than pushing an interaction with the man, he grabbed a towel and flung it around his shoulders. He used one end to wipe away the sweat now rolling down his face and pushed the damp hair off his forehead. Grabbing a water bottle, Dick flashed Alfred a bright smile as the old man emerged from the service elevator on the cave's lower level. Alfred returned the smile with one of his own.

Dick shrugged out of his white and blue workout tank-top and threw it on the bench. He continued to smile somewhat sheepishly at Alfred as the butler picked up his sweaty laundry between his thumb and fore-finger in an exaggerated show of disgust. Either taking pity on the old man or out of embarrassment, Dick grabbed his shirt again and used the Force to float it towards the laundry hamper on the far side of the cave.

Alfred rolled his eyes and handed Dick a fresh tunic. "Master Yoda used to say, 'used for purposes of amusement, the Force must not be.'"

Dick cocked an eyebrow. "Speak backwards, he did? Suspect, I do, that difficult to understand he was."

"He was the order's most revered Jedi Master," Alfred explained. "He was cryptic at times- true- but he was wise."

"In a backwards sort of way?" teased Dick.

Alfred's expression, though not unamused, became unreadable. "You're lucky he's not here to hear you say that."

And just like that, the two fell silent. Too many emotions lay underneath. Too many stories. Too many memories. It all boiled underneath the surface and threatened to bubble over into a conversation no-one in the room was prepared to deal with. It was Dick who broke the uncomfortable silence. "If the Force is indeed a partner, then even the Force must have a sense of humor. Fate sure seems too."

"Indeed it does, Master Richard," agreed Alfred. The smile returned to his face wrinkling well-placed lines in his face. "If it didn't, I wouldn't be spending half my time in the basement with a man dressed as a bat. How far has this old Jedi instructor fallen?"

It was a rhetorical question. But Dick took it seriously. "We never fall, Alfred," he tossed his towel aside, "we merely take a break from flying."

Their interaction ended when Bruce, leaning over the observation level's railing, called down to them. "Dick, Alfred. There's something you need to see." The two looked at each other before mounting the stairs to the upper level; Dick Force leaping six stairs at a time while Alfred took it at a more dignified pace. They followed Bruce's finger to the Batcomputer's screen which was playing a real-time interview with Commissioner Gordon, Captain Dane in commend of the Storm Trooper Battalion, and Governor Vox. Dick involuntarily cringed. He was pretty sure he knew where all of this was going.

Imperial Holo-news station, Gotham City:

"We're ready in three, sir," shouted the holo-vid camera man.

"Alright, Gordon," said Captain Dane turning to the commissioner, "stick to the script."

Gordon's mustache witched- a sign of his discomfiture- but he looked Dane in the eye. "You're asking me to lie to the people of Gotham."

"It's for their protection- and your own," Governor Vox assured him, "we need the civilian police on our side, Gordon. Now let's get this over with." The three men sat down in front of the cameras. Gordon tried to make himself look at ease as the lights intensified and the camera man counted down with his fingers. Gordon hoped he was doing the right thing. 3-2-1- on air.

"Good evening Gotham City," Governor Vox began, "Captain Dane and Commissioner Gordon are here with me to talk about the newest threat to Gotham. You all know the legend of the Talon- the child assassin that stalks the streets or homes and vanishes without a trace. Well, it's not a myth. Whatever the stories you've ever heard are, we're going to reveal the truth to you all tonight."

"Well put, Governor," Captain Dane congratulated his associate, "the Talon arrived on Alvorine three and a half months ago in full battle regalia. He came with the intent to not only wipe out our garrison of troopers but also any civilian loyal to the empire. Our troopers were able to apprehend the threat outside the city walls, but the Talon received help from the masked vigilante-criminal known as the Batman."

Gordon averted his eyes from the camera as the recited the script Captain Dane had given him. "Though many think the Batman is some kind of hero who stops crime around the city and stands up for the oppressed, he is as much a criminal as those he apprehends. He has chosen to side with the Talon against the people of Gotham."

"Our efforts have driven the Talon and Batman into hiding in the city," Captain Dane continued.

"The Empire is determined to fight for your safety and bring the Batman and Talon to justice, but we need your help," Governor Vox added, "we're asking the citizens of Gotham to report any suspicious activity or sightings of the Talon to either the GCPD or the Storm Trooper command post."

A picture of Richard dressed as the Talon appeared on the screen. His face was almost ash gray, blue and silver vein-like lines marked his face; but most alarming of all were the fierce amber eyes that seemed to glow with hatred. Then a video clip of his training against droids began to play; every move was calculated. Precise. Merciless. True they were only droids, but the cold efficiency with which he dispatched each and every highly programed droid was frightening.

The Holo-vid ended with Captain Dane entreating, "if you see this boy, turn him over immediately. He may be able to charm his way into your affections but under no circumstances can you trust him."

The Batcave:

Dick looked up from the Holo-vid screen to see the stern face of Bruce and the kind eyes of Alfred glazed over. He would have like nothing better than to slit the throats of Captain Dane, Governor Vox, and Commissioner Gordon; but he banished those thoughts and filled himself with light. Under no circumstances would he allow the Dark Side to win.