Chapter: 1
"Just let me see him, Jim," Darren stated, trying to appease Gotham's Police Commissioner. The two stood just outside Jim Gordon's office as the father of his cousin's fiancée intervened in Darren's attempt to corner another officer in the precinct; one that was not so willing to stop Darren and one who knew nothing of the connection between Darren and the person he wanted to see. Though perhaps Darren led himself astray in the police department by unconsciously seeking out the one person he knew would have the upmost authority to grant Darren what he wanted. A risky paradox for sure. Darren, though, forgot one key factor in this cobbled together plan for…something…and that was Jim Gordon knew exactly why Darren was at the precinct, alone, as well as why Darren was trying to avoid him.
Even so, Jim seemed to genuinely consider Darren's request, but his expression remained grim…pensive…in morbid thought, as if the past years and Darren's past behavior were dancing through his head while trying to come to some conclusion on the matter. Finally, the Commissioner shook his head, a stern, yet sympathetic expression on his face,
"I don't think that's a good idea." Darren grimaced, before firmly gritting his teeth, curling his hands into a fist…unable to feel the bite of his nails against the palm of his hands. Darren couldn't feel that pain. He could never feel pain. Talons didn't feel such discomfort.
Talons were assassins brought back to life by the drug Electrum to serve the Court of Owls—a centuries old secret organization who use their immense power and influence as well as murder through their Talons to wield political influence throughout history…throughout Gotham's history. Darren was one of them, but he had also escaped them. Darren escaped the Court and the Owls' control. Darren was no longer what the Owls and Talon Masters tried to mold him into, he was free from them through means of blackmail and intimidation. A treacherous process and one equally tedious to enforce but one Darren would live with it if it meant keeping himself, his family—the Bats, Gotham's vigilantes—and Gotham itself safe from the Court of Owls.
With a long drawn out sigh Darren closed his eyes, uncurling his fists trying to count to ten, hoping a sense of calm would soothe the irritation and nerves settling uncomfortably in his chest. This wasn't like him…this wasn't Darren. It couldn't be him again after everything he went through to end this chapter of his life. Since finally facing his great-grandfather William Cobb—another resurrected Talon assassin of the Court—and utilizing a Crowne family secret, hidden away since before his mother's death, to negotiate the end of the Court's influence over Gotham, ceasing the reestablishment of their Talon ranks and relinquishing the strength of their political power…Darren had lived in relative peace.
In the beginning, it was hard to let go of that constant vigilance…that fear that everything was a lie, a trick or some painfully deceitful façade. Darren didn't want to believe in his freedom…after so many years, ten long years, under the thrall and rigid abuse of the Talons and Court members…how could he trust the silence in the night, the lack of Talons flying through the air just out of the corner of his eye. Everything made Darren jump, everything was a new attack waiting to happen…all to drag him back in their clutches. But days turned to weeks and Darren learned to relax…learned to let his fear go…he started to enjoy himself. He was more carefree; Darren could feel the smile on his face and for once it didn't feel forced or deceptive. Perhaps Darren was happy, perhaps he was joyous and drunk on the freedom he now had. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Darren strove to stand up taller—to drink in the joy and peace and laughter—he'd earned it after all.
Though the Court of Owls seemed to have followed Darren's demands and nothing seemed suspicious…shadows still plagued Darren. No amount of freedom could vanquish the life he led before being liberated by his cousin Dick Grayson—who also doubled as Nightwing, one of Gotham's vigilantes. It was all still there, lurking…waiting to pull Darren back under the darkened thrall of his past…though those moments were fewer, Darren felt lighter despite the darkness that still haunted him. There was no escaping that undeniably desolate void, but Darren could still learn to manage those moments.
Even so, that was still a slow-going process and the recent few weeks had not helped. October thirty-first was Darren's sixteenth birthday, something one would usually be excited about, if it were not a fact that Darren's death-day was October twenty-sixth. To become a Talon, one must first die, and William Cobb had killed Darren a year ago that day making sure he became the Talon the Court wanted. The only other member of the Bats who had died and came back was Jason Todd, he knew what facing that day was like and he told Darren how atrocious it was to endure. Despite that piece of information, Darren still wasn't prepared for the strenuous and unbearable resurgence of the past his death-day would bring about.
Darren shuddered to even briefly remember that week, it got so terrible that Jason suggested Darren spend the last few days before his actual birthday with him in one of his safe houses—Gotham was still somewhat unwelcoming to the Red Hood despite his tedious allegiance with the Bats—and Darren, secretly grateful, agreed. Darren pushed all thoughts of those days, away…he couldn't stand to face them. They were shoved away in the back of his mind, but Darren knew they would be back, those memories always came back.
By the time Darren's birthday rolled around, he felt there wasn't really much to celebrate…though his closest friends Tim and Stephanie—the vigilantes Red Robin and Spoiler—as well as his girlfriend Livia Baudelaire, a witch with an ancient and deadly bloodline, tried their best to make up for such a dreadful week. Darren appreciated the effort but, in all honesty, he'd been too drained to do much more than wallow silently as they shoved cake onto his plate.
To make matters worse, the week after his birthday was the Court trial against Shepard Powers. Another monster from Darren's childhood. The Powers were the family the Court forced Darren upon once it became clear they couldn't kill him off as they did his mother, and they added to the terror of Darren's history with the Court of Owls. So much so that Shepard was accused of child abuse by Darren himself in the prior court case dealing with custody between the Powers and his cousin. If Darren's nerves had been frayed from the week before they were destroyed, twisted, and shredded by the time the trial came around. In the end, it was decided for the trial to proceed In Camera, and Darren never even set foot in the courtroom. During the week of the trial, Darren had been relieved. He didn't think he could face Shepard after all he had done, after all Darren had faced and come to realize since escaping the Powers and the Court of Owls. But the day after sentencing was passed, it felt cowardly…it felt unsatisfactory…Darren needed to see Shepard. At least before the end, at least before this chapter in Darren's story finally came to a close,
"Please…I-I need to see him; I need to see him here." Darren hoped his voice didn't wobble, he hoped he sounded dignified and determined not desperate and fearful.
Sometimes Darren emulated emotions he didn't quite feel when he spoke or perhaps, he felt those emotions but pushed them away…it was never really clear. It was something Darren had been told to work on, but also something Darren didn't really care about. More often than not, Darren avoided any considerations of what he himself felt because when he actually did stop and try to make sense of everything it often rushed over him like a tidal wave. A full-frontal attack of emotions he forced away so he could survive in an emotionally muted haze…a preferably blend of trauma and apathy. Perhaps not healthy, but it was all Darren could do while with the Court.
Darren didn't know what to expect, he didn't know if this was really what he wanted…the need to go to the precinct came from nowhere…surfacing after hours of panicked and wary pacing in his room within Dick and Barbara's—his cousin's fiancée and Batgirl, another of the vigilantes—penthouse apartment. Jim Gordon studied him, a different kind of pensive look on his face. As if trying to read something from Darren's expression, his posture…Jim's detective gaze roamed over Darren as if X-ray scanning him, looking for inconsistencies and deceptions.
At that moment, Darren wondered what the Commissioner saw. A determined and scowling teenager upright and proud not haunted by the past as he embraced the future? No, Jim probably saw a pale tired, rumpled-looking teenage boy with dark circles under his eyes from constant sleepless nights. While freedom during daylight was enjoyable, it was still a trial at night…where the past crept up on Darren unconsciously and where it seemed the truth was impossible to trust and believe, where conspiracies and troubles erected themselves like building blocks in Darren's mind as he doubted the strength of the flash drive secret his mother left behind. The essence of control was no easy feat and Darren was finding more frayed edges than smooth in the aftermath of the picture-perfect month of his post-Court of Owls life,
"You didn't seem so keen on seeing him for the trial," Jim finally replied. Darren winced, surprised by the shock of hurt that followed what the man said. Gordon grimaced regretfully as if realizing the impact of his words only after the fact.
Though in every sense of the statement, it was true. The trial followed In Camera procedure, as decided by what Darren had endured the week before. All testimony by Darren was recorded and shown privately to the judge and attorneys for both sides of the trial. His testimony was a blur, Darren barely remembered the questions or his answers…and in any case, it was only the outcome that mattered. In all truth, Darren didn't understand where his desire to seek this monster out came from. It overcame him suddenly, overbearingly. A need to at least attempt to gain some sense of closure, as such a thing was forfeited by the lawyers in the courtroom. Darren internally grimaced, he would rather not think of that day at all…it was too fresh, too soon, too stressful even after the verdict went in Darren's favor,
"Please, I just need to see that he's there while I can. I need to know he's gone…that-that I'm free," Darren put as much emotion as he dared into that sentence, using his eyes to plead with Jim…staring straight into the older man's bright green gaze—exactly like his daughter's. It was tempting to just push past Jim, to use his strength and speed to get what he wanted— 'gifts' from being changed into a Talon—but Darren wanted support in his mission. An understanding of what he was trying to do. A long stretch of time passed before Jim let out a sigh and Darren found conviction in that wise old gaze as the Commissioner turned and led him to the GCPD's holding cells. To the cells where Shepard Powers was held, awaiting transfer to Blackgate Prison.
As Darren stepped into the long hallway, a stretch of empty cells straight along one side of the building, he almost turned right back around…almost changed his mind. It wasn't that he was afraid…well, perhaps that feeling was there, in the back of Darren's mind…a haunted part of his childhood peeking through the cracks of that fine glass wall between his very self and everything Darren didn't want to feel. But it was really just the feeling of close quarters. The hallway was long and narrow, only one way out and small square windows at the backend of the cells. Darren never did well in small rooms, elevators, cars…sometimes even bathroom stalls bothered him. In this instance though, he'd be trapped in the same space as Shepard. Something that hadn't occurred in quite a long time. Of course, a set of bars would lay between them…it was still too close for comfort.
Swallowing the lump in his throat Darren stepped into the hallway once more, pushing the door closed after giving Jim a long dark stare as if trying to dare the man to come into the room with him. Darren didn't know the protocol regarding cell visits, he also didn't care. This was something he needed to do without prying eyes or ears. Sucking in a deep breath, Darren started forward walking past the first set of empty cells before stopping in front of the middle set of metal cell bars.
For a long beat of silence, Darren couldn't step any closer…as if there was an invisible line on the ground preventing him from getting anywhere remotely within arm's length. Darren had learned very young to keep that distance…perhaps it was harder to break that habit than he thought. Darren could only stare. A budding knot grew in his stomach as he stared and stared. Darren didn't know what he expected. Some look of defeat? Regret? A quivering set of shoulders, watering eyes…some attempt at forgiveness for what Shepard had done to Darren, what he'd allowed and endorsed so many others to endure at the hands of the Court of Owls.
What Darren expected was a reflection of the horrors he endured as a child. Within the Nest of the Court. Locked bedroom doors and bars on the windows. Bells and alarms echoing harshly off stone floors and walls, bright lights at all hours as the Talons-to-be trained for adjusting to the nocturnal hours of a Talon—the door sealed tight, their cries falling on deaf ears. The creak of hinges, metal groaning as the last glimpse of light—daylight or otherwise—faded with the slamming of the door. Darkness, soundlessness, no concept of time, self, space—Blackout. Obsidian stone cutting into skin while crawling along the floor, clawing at the walls—bloody ruined fingernails, the pain the only indication that you were alive—pounding on the door to be let out, the stink of blood and excrement fouling the stale air left to breathe. Darren blinked, swallowing once more, the phantom burn of bile and vomit in the back of his throat as the slide show of what he'd lived through not so long ago scrolled across his mind's eye…only a mere few months ago and it was still fresh in his head.
Shepard was still in his suit from the trial. Darren had seen pictures in the papers, online, everywhere it seemed. All of Gotham was talking about it. Darren avoided reading the various 'scoops' of the trial. He didn't want to know the details, that was the reason he testified In Camera. Darren just wanted proof that what he was told actually happened. He just needed to see it with his own eyes. Though Dick insisted he read the version written by some guy from Metropolis named Clark Kent, Darren ignored his cousin's request though the paper was still hidden away under the floorboards of his room in Wayne Manor among other hidden treasures and weapons.
Though Shepard sat on the small metal bench suspended along one wall, hunched over his bent knees, his forearms resting lightly against them his hands clasped as if thinking or maybe praying—Darren didn't think Shepard was that type—it wasn't enough. Darren expected suffering, pain, some kind of torment to hang from the man's shoulders. But there was nothing…as if Darren were nothing. The tie that went with the suit hung loose around Shepard's neck. Darren had the urge to reach for it, to pull the tie tighter and tighter and tighter until the life drained from Shepard's eyes. Darren's hands twitched by his side as if itching to do exactly that. He curled them into fists, tighter and tighter and tighter as if expecting some sensation of pain to remind him that was not what normal people did…though perhaps it was what normal people thought about from time to time. Particularly with someone they hated. Darren could do it. He could bend the bars, snatch up the end of the tie like a rope…but Jim would see, the rest of the precinct would see, there were six cameras in this holding facility one at the end of the hallway, by the door and one in each of the four cells. Darren marked each of them as he stepped through the threshold of the door into the room. Though a temporary resting stop for various criminals of many different repertoires…the GCPD had faced too many sieges to make extra security optional. Darren couldn't risk that; he couldn't risk the rest of his family for revenge well deserved.
Instead, Darren forced himself to focus on something else. Some buttons of Shepard's white undershirt were undone revealing a simple white T-shirt against his skin. Darren could hear Shepard's heartbeat from where he stood. Again, the urge to reach through the bars and tear out Shepard's heart overtook Darren…he could do it easily. The strength that came with being a Talon allowed him to tear through bones, muscles, tendons, and arteries with ease. It would take all of two seconds, if Darren used his speed Jim might not even notice…the cameras might not even register him. But the blood soaking Darren's coat would be evidenced enough of what had occurred and yet again put his family in danger of exposure. They valued their secret identities as it kept their loved ones safe. Darren couldn't do this, and Barbara would be upset that he got blood all over his brand-new winter coat.
Shepard's hair was rumpled, his clothes wrinkled and frayed as if he spent the last twenty-four hours picking at their seams. That small indication of worry, of fear, was just enough to let Darren relax, a minuscule degree…but it was enough. Darren took one step closer, his shoes scuffing against the hard concrete floor. Shepard looked up, his bloodshot eyes easily finding Darren standing before him, Shepard's pale drawn skin turned bloodless at the sight of him, his black hair a wild mess on his head. Again, Darren couldn't speak, muteness overtaking him as he just stared. Just seeing Shepard there, despite the lackluster treatment that Darren expected, for however long…knowing that Shepard was condemned, locked away, declared a criminal, ruined for what he had done…was comforting. That comfort was corrupted and short-lived. Darren's life, psyche, and entire being was ravaged by this man, far more so than his body,
"Ahh, so Gotham's little Crowne prince finally deigns to grace me with his presence?" Shepard practically spat. Darren stiffened at the sound of Shepard's voice. As harsh and vicious as ever, a startling jolt to whatever resolve Darren had.
With difficulty, Darren forced himself to relax, hiding any reaction with a grim yet nearly expressionless visage a rival to Shepard's livid and reproachful expression. Darren took a step even closer, though he felt his hands tremble at the nearness…the risk and the danger from Darren's childhood fresh in his mind even now as he threaded his fingers through the bars taking hold, trying not to seem as if he needed the support of the metal to keep himself upright,
"You've lost," two measly words, and they tumbled from Darren's mouth with what he hoped was confidence, strong and sure, but there was a tremor underlying his words as if he were afraid this was just an idle lie. Something to comfort Darren rather than a fact to harm the man standing before him.
Shepard merely smirked, his teeth glittering in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. The kind of smirk that used to send dread running down Darren's spine. The kind of look that led to bruises and stitches, welts and glass embedded cuts, sometimes even casts. Darren's resolve flickered but he remained where he was, his gaze drilling holes into Shepard's skull. There was a coldness in Shepard's returned gaze—one that had always been there when regarding Darren—but also resignation…a secret understanding, the same one that brushed against Darren's own mind,
"I've lost nothing. It is you who is in a cage of your own making." Shepard rose suddenly, lunging forward and slamming his hands against the bars. The resounding crash and quaking metal had Darren flinching away, stumbling back a step with a sharp intake of breath as Shepard chortled, his fingers grasping at the bars as he pulled his face close. Darren had to force himself not to look away, his extreme reaction to Shepard mortifying in the face of everything he had survived,
"You are nothing, I may be here, but I live in your mind like a parasite…nothing will save you from that. Not your precious Bats, not your little girlfriend, not even yourself…because you are a pathetic, problem that needs to be fixed." Spittle flew across the space between them, landing at Darren's feet as Shepard's words settled over Darren harshly, a trigger that speared through Darren with fierce force. The words settled deeply within Darren, a storm of unresolved trauma and hatred and fear flooding through him.
Darren surged forward unable to keep still any longer, unable to hold himself back unable to tame that side of himself that yearned to end this all right then and there. Darren snatched the bars in his grip as he glowered at Shepard, anger sinking deeper and deeper into his bones. He could kill him…he wanted to kill Shepard; he could do it without a second thought…he wouldn't care. Darren had wanted this since before he could pluck a man's heart right from his body. But something in Shepard's eyes told another story. Shepard wanted Darren to kill him, he wanted a quick and easy exit from the consequences of his actions…and to take Darren down along with him.
Darren pushed away from the bars almost as if disgusted, shaking his head…he wouldn't do it, he would not help that man, not after everything he'd done. There would be no easy exits for Shepard Powers…at least not by Darren's hand…prison would do that well enough for him,
"You can think that. Maybe it's even true. Maybe I'm a problem. Maybe I need to be fixed. Maybe you and everything that you've done to me will live and fester in my mind, in my very core for the rest of my life…but I'm here, and you are there. You are behind those bars; you are in this cage…a very real and very permanent cage. You are pathetic, you have failed in every sense of the word in your duties as an Owl, leaving your wife to pick up the slack and the pieces of your failed attempts at scrabbling for power. Failing over and over and over again, stepping over every line, every restriction set in place to protect your stupid cult, and in the end, your past transgressions caught up with you and your wife took up the role you have wanted since before I was ever tossed into your care," The words slipped out, heated and brittle…spewing venom through the flimsy metal bars. If Darren couldn't kill the bastard…then Darren would destroy him with his words.
That seemed to enrage Shepard, as the older man lunged for Darren through the bars. Darren was, despite his prior knowledge of Shepard's ways, too close to leap away. Shepard snatched Darren by the sleeves pulling him close, practically slamming him into the bars, to claw at Darren or strangle him…whichever was easiest. Words, yelling, obscenities echoed loudly but Darren could barely hear them…only feel the plummeting panic and bewilderment as Shepard's clawed grasp navigated to the front of Darren's coat, slamming him against the cell bars. Shepard's scathing yelling harsh on Darren's sensitive ears while Darren scrabbled against the metal trying to pull himself away. Shepard's verbal abuse faltered into senseless shouting as he attempted to bash Darren's head in, the third quaking blow enough to bring sparkling stars into Darren's line of sight.
A sound echoed through the room, a sharp bang, and Jim ran into the room looking startled at the scene before him. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the thrall. Darren flinched, jerking away from the new set of flailing arms while trying to pry himself from Shepard's grasp. Jim's voice drowned in Shepard's shouting until finally, Shepard lost his grip, Darren tumbling back into the Commissioner's chest nearly head butting the man in the process,
"Knock it off!" Jim snarled at Shepard, "Or I'll make sure they lock you in Blackgate's solitary for a week once you're outta here!" The Commissioner then took Darren by the upper arm, pulling him gently out of the room,
"This was a bad idea. I knew this wasn't a good idea. Let's get you out of here," Jim stated, still holding onto Darren and steering him toward his office.
Darren squirmed in the Commissioner's grip, he couldn't stand being in close quarters with an older man, not after facing Shepard even if it was someone he knew…someone who would technically be family by the time spring rolled around,
"We should get you checked out in medical, could have a concussion," Jim muttered, still holding firmly onto Darren,
"I'm fine…really," Darren mumbled tugging out of Jim's grasp, "I'm fine!"
"Nonsense, he slammed you into those bars one too many times before I got that door open. Your cousin will never forgive me if you get home delirious from an untreated concussion," Jim took up his hold on Darren's arm once more, starting for a different part of the precinct,
"No! Jim, I'm fine. Let go," Darren insisted, a sharpness of near fear in his voice, "Let go of me!" Darren practically pushed himself away from the Commissioner, his chest heaving though not from effort as he whirled around trying to find the exit.
In forcibly stumbling away from the Commissioner, Darren bumped into another officer walking by with a firm arm on another kid thirteen years old at most leading him off to one of the interrogation rooms of the police department. Darren jerked his head around, again looking for an exit. He shouldn't have come here; it was too much too soon. Dealing with Shepard shouldn't have happened so soon after Darren's death day, it shouldn't have been so soon after the trial, but it had been Darren's only chance before Shepard was put away for good. Darren turned—searching desperately while Jim tried to talk to him, the words nothing but buzzing in Darren's already haywire mind. Once again facing the struggling police officer and the younger kid, a glint of light bouncing off of steel drew Darren's frazzled attention. Following the brightness Darren angled his gaze again to the police officer guiding the kid away, seeing for the first time a Talon dagger in the police officer's grip, a piece of evidence.
A new level of panic and dread devoured any negative feelings in the aftermath of facing Shepard for the last time. The world seemed to freeze, Darren's thoughts racing and rage building in his chest. That shouldn't be possible, no kid should be able to possess such a weapon. Not after Darren utilized the most effective blackmail he could against the Court's new Grandmaster, Shepard's very own wife Lydia Powers. The Owls were not supposed to recruit new members. There were supposed to be no more mazes, no more legacies, no more street rats kidnapped and hidden away. Forced to kill, forced to train, forced to face beatings, punishments, and Blackout. No kid was supposed to ever experience what Darren had for ten years of his life.
More importantly, Talons didn't drop weapons, they left nothing behind…no trace, no evidence…especially not weapons. They backtracked to reclaim them, even Darren still impulsively backtracked while on patrol to reclaim lost weapons the practice was so ingrained in his mind and muscle memory…no random kid would come across a weapon like that, not unless they were given it. As a way to goad street rats into seeking 'protection' by the Court items like throwing daggers, clawed gauntlets, shurikens, and Talon daggers were given out. Some who found the 'prizes' would sell the item for money, others would seek the Court like a lost puppy, others used the weapons they were given—against other kids, other street rats, muggers, cops, or family members—and flee to the sewers to be snatched up by the Court. It was a recruitment method…again…one the Owls could not be practicing, not within the parameters of their agreement.
Without thinking, without considering where Darren was or who he was with, Darren lunged in the direction of the cop and the child. Grabbing the officer's wrist and twisting both himself and the cop away from the kid, ripping the Talon dagger from the man's grasp in the process. Darren shoved the man towards Jim Gordon, distracting both the cops before whirling around to face the kid. The younger officer stumbled, not expecting a sudden attack from behind in the precinct especially when dealing with something so benign. The officer fell, crashing into Gordon in the process. Darren ignored their cries of surprise, his gaze focused on only the boy. After the merest beat of silence—the kid's terrified wide-eyes burning themselves into Darren's memory—Darren leapt forward and slammed the boy none too gently into the nearby wall. Darren could hear someone shouting in the background, hands trying to tug him away, but Darren paid them no mind as he carefully placed the blade against the kid's throat. It was better this way, perhaps some fear and intimidation would keep this kid from seeking out the monstrous Talons of the night. Though the kid didn't even blink at Darren's attack, only stared back with wide, jaded hazel eyes his dark dirty blond hair rumpled and uneven as if cut by his own hand. Again, Darren felt hands on him, tugging roughly…but Darren was an immovable statue and any words shouted fell on deaf ears.
"Where did you get this," Darren hissed, his voice deadly…barely a whisper as he pushed the dagger a minuscule amount more against the kid's skin, utilizing the fine and sharp muscle control of a Talon to his advantage. The younger teen let out a sharp intake of breath at the chilling sting of the sharp blade but didn't cry out only stared. Darren shook him roughly, "Answer me!" Again, Darren's voice was intense but barely registrable to anyone around him…only the boy could hear him,
"I-I-I—,"
"Tell me right now, where the fuck did you get this?"
"I-I fou-found it…I swear…I just found it!" The kid finally stammered, gulping deeply despite the dagger against his throat,
"Don't ever go looking for the owner of this dagger, forget about it, ignore it…stay away from shadows on cold lonely nights, they offer nothing but pain and despair…swear that to me" Darren hissed, his hands trembling from fury and fear though steady enough to keep the blade from nicking the boy's skin.
The Talon dagger was filled with Serum, the only concoction able to harm and kill a Talon. It was painful and Darren had been subjected to the stuff on numerous occasions before finally getting the Court of Owls under his thumb. The memory of his blood boiling from the Serum was enough to get Darren's heart racing, or perhaps it was the fear and anger regarding the kid that radiated from him in waves. If inflicted upon a normal human, they would lapse into a coma and be a vegetable for the rest of their life…if they didn't die outright from such a long-term coma,
"I swear, I swear!" The boy stammered, a puzzled expression crossing his face. Darren gave the kid one last glare, baring his teeth menacingly before pushing himself away, deftly and swiftly sliding the Talon dagger up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and winter coat combo.
A crowd had formed in the hallway, numerous cops gathered, hands on batons…some even resting on their Glocks as Darren turned to face them. Jim surged forward, a warning hand sweeping around the group as if to ward off the rest of the officers as he took a strong hold of Darren and started pulling him away towards his office,
"That is enough! What has gotten into you?" The outrage in the Commissioner's voice was enough to send a shock of anxiety down Darren's spine as Jim all but shoved Darren through the doorway leading to his office. Darren spun around on his heels to face the man, unable to leave his back to Jim even if he was to be Darren's family. Darren could see the kid being guided away by a kinder-looking police officer through the doorframe over Jim's shoulder, the piece of evidence hidden up Darren's sleeve forgotten.
Jim Gordon slammed the door shut and marched towards Darren his expression livid and full of disappointment. Darren raised his hands, mindful of the dagger, as some kind of defense unsure of what the man had in mind…his heart pounding in his chest despite the fact that he was a Talon and could not be hurt by normal means. Darren didn't want to have to defend himself against Gordon…Darren liked Gordon, but it appeared Darren had crossed one too many lines in the precinct that day. Gordon grabbed hold of Darren's upper arms, trying to get Darren to look him in the eye even as he squirmed with discomfort at being held so harshly and so angrily,
"What the hell was that! What happened back there? Why would you do such a thing?" Gordon didn't shout, not really. But his voice held an intensity that had Darren scrambling for an answer, for something to appease him. Darren opened his mouth, but closed it, unable to think of a good enough reason. Not being able to really explain anything to Jim.
The man knew nothing of Darren's past though he guessed it of Renegade's—Darren's alter-ego when patrolling alongside the Bats. So, Darren shut down, eyes downcast to the floor unable to hide the trembling in his hands from what happened with Shepard, from his current situation, and the realization that he would have to face Lydia, the Grandmaster of the Court of Owls, to demand an explanation. He would need some grand gesture, a warning, to keep her in line if this was indeed her handy work. A predominately male secret organization might have qualms of a woman taking leadership, perhaps Lydia had enemies of her own…something Darren could exploit if warranted.
Gordon seemed to take Darren's silence as shame or some sort of lapse in trust as he let go of Darren quickly, the grim look he'd often throw Darren's way when visiting Barbara erasing the anger and worry once etched there. Darren wished he had answers for the Commissioner, but they were too much of a burden to bear nor were they meant for anyone's ears but his own…no one could know, not now, not ever.
The silence in the office was deafening.
A/N: Okay, a few things. 1) I'm posting this chapter because I feel bad about not posting anything even though I've been hyping it up for so long and I do really need to light a fire under my butt to write. I am still on chapter 15, and I am close to starting chapter 16, but I am only averaging like 1 - 2 hours of writing per week; I am so exhausted and tired and just want to watch tv once work is done that I haven't exactly been able to write as often as I like. But I am working on it. That being said, I think I will be posting every two weeks and if I run out of chapters there will just be a hiatus until I build up a quota of chapters.
Please do not think I am not interested in writing this story, I TOTALLY am, I am so goddamn excited to write this story and I have so many plans for it, but so little time my friends. But I am working to get this story written. It will be much longer than my other stories and will feature some...multiverse adventures, mainly to create reasoning/because of a certain character appearing at the end of last story's epilogue. It will all make sense...EVENTUALLY! The reason I bring that up is that I'm wondering if I should add Young Justice (no reason why...I 'swear') to the mix of categories this story covers. Let me know if you think I should, it would widen the audience this story reaches, especially if I have it as a crossover.
Also, overall let me know what you think about this chapter! I would LOVE some comments, so as always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW.