RING!
Ignore it.
RING!
Ignore it.
RING!
Ignore—
"Kon!" Bart's very annoyed voice broke through. "Pick up your damn phone!"
Kon grumbled, sitting up and rubbing one of his eyes as he slapped around the side table next to his hotel bed. He felt the familiar form of his phone and tapped it, activating the screen. He tapped on the 'ACCEPT CALL' button, probably a little bit harder than he should have.
"What is it, Jay?" The clone bit out sharply. "Do you have any ide—"
"My group and I just got attacked by an army of Talons."
Kon stared. "…What?"
"I need you to get to Bludhaven now, Kon."
"Okay, so Kon's handling securing the Talons and transferring them to the Fortress of Solitude. He's already cleared it with Clark," Jason explained as he finished setting up the anti-espionage equipment in Dick's apartment. "That just leaves contacting B and telling him what happened and figuring out where to go from there."
"Wait," Cissie stopped him before he could continue, "before we do that, you need to explain who that Raptor guy was, and who these Talons are. We nearly died against these guys, Jason. We deserve that much."
Jason stared at her, before nodding. "You do. All of you do." He gestured to the couch. "Sit down, please. You're not going to want to be standing when you here this. It's a long story."
The other four people in the room exchanged looks, before following his instructions. They had all long since divested themselves of their masks, leaving them just in their body suits. Weapons had been stacked on Dick's kitchen table, along with the medical supplies. While no one had suffered any major injuries, there were still plenty of cuts and bruises to go around.
"First things first," Jason said, having dragged one of the chairs of the kitchen table over to have a seat himself. "Raptor. He's the easy one. He's Mary Grayson's stalker."
"What." Dick looked half-horrified, half-enraged.
"Yup," Jason nodded. "He was you mom's stalker, and then after she died, your stalker. And before you ask, not only did you investigate and write up the file on him after your first encounter with him, you told all of this to me after he started screwing with us during your tenure as Batman, so yes, I'm fairly certain it's accurate. That's how he knew who we were — he figured it out the same way Tim did."
Tim blinked. "The quadruple flip?"
"Yeah. It's like you said — very distinctive. And considering this guy has been watching Dickie and his family flip around way longer than you have…" Jason shrugged. "You're smart Tim. Brilliant. But that doesn't change the fact that you were only nine when you figured it out. And if a nine year old who only saw Dick once could figure it out, then for an adult man that's been watching his family since before he was even conceived, it would be as simple as one, two, three."
"Whatever. He knows. What I want to know is why is he so obsessed with my family?" Dick demanded, incensed.
Jason held up a finger. "Dick, it's not your family he's obsessed with, it's your mother. And with her gone, you are the only piece of her left in this world. And as for why…" He sighed. "Raptor was a poor member of Paris' Romani community, who was further ostracized after he contracted leprosy."
The teens winced. Dick looked unmoved, stony.
"Your mom was the only one to see past that and befriend him. Together, they stole the medicine needed to treat his leprosy, and then kept stealing from the wealthy Parisian elite and giving to the poor," Jason shrugged again. "You know, like Robin Hood. Then your mom met your dad and joined Haley's Circus, and Raptor continued following her, watching her. Your dad obviously hated it, but she said he was harmless. She even named you after him."
"Wait, seriously?" Cissie sounded surprised.
"You did hear me call him Richard, right?" Jason deadpanned.
Dick ignored the byplay. "And now? What happened after my parents died?"
Jason let out another sigh. "He was planning to steal you away," he answered bluntly. "Steal you away and teach you all about being Robin Hood like Mary and him. But Bruce adopted you first, and he never got over it. Especially since Bruce was so representative of the 'Parisian elite' that Mary and Raptor hated so much. That's why he's so obsessed with you. He's been planning to ingratiate himself to you, unteach everything Bruce taught you — and, if failing that, destroy you."
Dick scoffed. "Let him try," he dared.
"Oh, he will." Jason inhaled a small breath. "Be careful with this enemy, Dick. Please. You think Blockbuster's bad? This one's worse. He's not held back by profit margins or greed, or any of those easy pressure points that keep the usual scumbags in line. He's driven by a twisted morality and has no real code, and he's clever enough and skilled enough to cause a lot of problems. What we saw in that warehouse should be proof enough. The Talons might have killed all those people, but there's no doubt Raptor was directing traffic."
His older brother frowned and crossed his arms. "I understand your concern, Jason. And I promise I'll be careful. But this guy willingly started a gang war in my city. There's no way I'm going to let this go."
"I know. I would never ask that of you." Jason exhaled another breath. "Any more questions about Raptor?"
He got four shakes.
"Good. Onto the Talons." Despite that, however, Jason stopped. He hesitated, before releasing another sign and leaning back into his chair, a hand over his eyes. "God. I didn't expect to talk to you guys about this so soon."
Dick frowned even harder. "Jay, what is it?"
Instead of answering, Jason slowly sat up, and glanced at Tim. "Tim. You're the only other native Gothamite here besides me. So let me ask you this question: did anyone of your life, whether it be your parents or caretakers or even friends, speak to you about a nursery rhyme that spoke of 'The Talon'?"
Tim's jaw dropped slightly at the question, before he pursed his lips and took a moment to think. "I…think so? A friend in Brentwood, he mentioned something to me during science class. We were studying birds, and he started humming this nursery rhyme and some of the class sang along. Something about…owls?"
Jason sighed again. It was going to be one of those 'sigh a lot' nights. "Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head," he intoned, catching everyone by surprise.
"Yeah, that's it!" Tim confirmed, then blinked. "Are you saying…?"
"That the Court of Owls is real? Yes," Jason admitted bluntly, stunning everyone. "The Court is a secret society made of several members of Gotham's wealthy elite. They've been controlling Gotham from the shadows for over four hundred years, using the Talon — their personal elite assassin — to silence any that would expose their existence or prove to be a problem for their goals."
"Wait a minute — from what you're saying, they only usually have one Talon at any point in time," Cissie leaned back into her seat. "How did they manage to send an army after us?"
Jason rubbed his arm. "Well, that's not exactly accurate. They usually have a handful of trainees, all potential Talons competing for the post. Usually collected from the slums of Gotham and…other sources." He's flickered to Dick for a split-second, but no one seemed to notice. "Once a Talon needs to be decommissioned, they take the most promising of the candidates to the Labyrinth, an underground maze that serves as one of their major strongholds, to face the current-serving Talon in combat. If the Talon wins, they continue to serve. If they lose, then the candidate takes their place, and both the Talon and the other candidates are…decommissioned."
"De-com-ishoned?" Cass sounded out the word.
Jason gave a short, solemn nod. "See, every Talon is enhanced. They're modified, imbued with a powerful element called Electrum via an implanted tooth. This Electrum is composed of another element called Dionesium, which is in both the Lazarus Pits and in the meteor that Vandal Savage slept under that granted him his immortality."
"Hence their powerful healing factor and regenerative abilities," Tim said slowly, following along.
"Yes," Jason confirmed. "This healing factor allows them to be put into a stasis until the Court needs them and their services again. They're stored beneath the catacombs of Gotham, left there until the Court needs them again. When they are, they're revived and sent on whatever task the Court requires of them."
"Okay, so secret society of rich people that have superpowered assassins. Been ruling Gotham for centuries." Dick inhaled a deep breath. "Why did you think they were after me?"
Jason swallowed.
"Jason?"
"Let me say this first," Jason started, looking unnaturally pale. "The only reason I waited this long to tell you, is because I wanted to protect you. Both in the literal sense, and the emotional sense."
"I don't like the sound of that, little wing," Dick commented, while the teenagers exchanged another round of looks. "Let me guess: they wanted me as one of their Talons?"
That got another round of stares. Jason only closed his eyes.
"What?" Dick threw his hands up. "It was obvious! Why else would they want me? I'm not rich like them, at least not in the conventional sense, and if they wanted another pal to throw money around with they would've just gone after Bruce. Let me guess: they figured out I was Robin like Raptor did and decided I'd make a good candidate for their next pet assassin?"
"No."
And now the attention was back on Jason. Dick blinked. "Seriously? That's not how it happened?"
Jason sighed again and stood up, turning around and walking about the apartment. He didn't want to see Dick's face for this. "About a century or so back, there was a man named William Cobb, who was born in Gotham. When he was young, his father was killed helping build the Gotham Bridge for Cameron Kane. Left destitute, he and his mother were forced to work in order to make ends meet. His mother was employed by a textile plant, while he…entered a certain profession. He was so talented in that profession that he was eventually offered a job that allowed him to evolve his skills to even greater heights. Eventually, his skills became renowned across the country, and he became a household name for a time."
"Eventually, he returned to Gotham amongst cheering crowds, and stayed there. And it was there he committed his greatest sin, the mistake that caused his downfall." Jason rolled his shoulders. "He fell in love with the wrong girl. A woman named Amelia Crowne."
Tim made a strangled noise. "Amelia Crowne? Of the Crowne family of Gotham? The extinct First Family?"
"Yes." Jason took another deep breath. "In fact, the Crowne's downfall directly ties into this. Cobb fell in love with Amelia, and she him. They were so in love they were planning to get married. But Amelia's father, Burton Crowne, the then-head of the Crowne Family, was a classist bastard, disapproved of the match, and banned Cobb from ever seeing her again. Both were devastated, and Amelia later committed suicide, which proved to be the death knell of the Crowne Family. She was their last heir, and with her gone, the family died out soon after."
"And then Cobb was scooped up the Court of Owls to be their new Talon," Tim concluded. When Jason didn't deny it, he continued. "This is sad and tragic and all, but what does this have to do with the Court's obsession with Dick?"
Jason rubbed his head, and finally glanced back at the group. "Because, before Amelia died, she gave birth to a child. A son. Cobb's son." He hesitated. "Dick's grandfather."
A beat.
"You're kidding," Dick accused him, eyes wide as he shot to his feet.
Jason shook his head. "We captured Cobb at one point. Bruce did a DNA analysis, and that's how we found out about your biological connection to him. You're his great-grandson."
"But how is that possible? You said yourself the Crowne family died out! If my grandfather was a Crowne, had grown up in Gotham—"
"—you would've never been born, I know. But your grandfather did not grow up in Gotham, as you well know. He grew up…" Jason trailed off, then closed his eyes and buried his face into his hands.
Dick swallowed. Now he knew for sure that something was wrong. "Jay? Little wing? If you don't want to say—"
"No, no." Jason inhaled another breath, lifting his head to make eye contact with Dick. "No. You need to know."
Upon hearing that, Dick fell silent, giving a nod to show he was listening.
Jason stepped forward, making sure that Dick's gaze was entirely on him, that he could see the truth on his face. "The Court recruits its Talon candidates from several sources. The gutters of Gotham. Particularly exceptional middle class children. Vulnerable immigrants. Even human trafficking. But their most successful source, the one where most of their official Talons come from…is a circus." He met Dick's eyes again. "Haley's Circus."
For a moment, Dick was completely still. There was no reaction at all, a contrast to the shock and horrified looks of the girls and especially Tim. And then…
"You're lying."
Jason closed his eyes again. "Dick…"
"No. You're lying." Dick stepped forward, an expression of silent fury on his face. "You're saying… you're saying that my home, my first real home, is a factory for murderers. That my life, my entire life, is a complete lie." He shook his head. "No. You're lying."
Another sigh. Then… "Cobb stole your grandfather away from your great-grandmother, and handed him to the then-Mr. Haley at the time, Nathaniel, to train. The loss of Cobb and her son is what drove her to suicide, and the Court granted Cobb the 'privilege' of killing Burton and ending the Crownes for good. And as for Cobb's son, the Gray Son of Gotham, he grew up in Haley's Circus, and started the greatest family of acrobats in the world — the Flying Graysons."
Dick's nostrils flared. "Stop. Lying."
"At first, the Court ignored the Graysons. They were skilled acrobats at first, yes, but it took too long for them to reach their prime and they still had other perfectly decent Talon candidates to pick from. But over a decade ago, their current Talon was beginning to grow sloppy—"
"I said stop! STOP! LYING!" Dick shrieked. Luckily, Jason's anti-espionage equipment included soundproofing. No one outside the apartment would hear them.
Jason fell silent for a moment, but the steely expression on his face showed he wasn't cowed. "Their current Talon was beginning to grow sloppy," he repeated, "and they decided they needed a new one. So they looked at Haley's Circus—"
"No…"
"—And they saw you," Jason plowed on. "Probably the most talented acrobat to be born in generations."
"No!"
"And they decided they wanted you as their new Talon—"
"NO!" Dick shouted, shoving Jason back. Jason caught himself, but it wasn't enough to stop Dick from trying to punch him. Jason grabbed the blow before it could land, gripping Dick's wrist tight.
"Dick—"
"No, no, no nononoNO!" There were tears in Dick's eyes as he clutched at Jason's suit. "YOU'RE LYING!"
"You know I'm not."
That was it.
Dick collapsed to his knees, dry-heaving. Jason kneeled down on one knee, pulling him into a hug. From above his brother's shoulder, he gave a look to the concerned teenagers, silently ordering them to remain seated.
"…Was it them?" Dick asked, sounding very small. "Did they…" He couldn't even finish the question.
"Yes. Zucco… Zucco was just a means to an end."
"…And it was to get to me."
"…Yes."
The first Robin burst into sobs.
It took several minutes for Dick to calm down. Eventually, he was settled back into his seat on the couch, both of his youngest siblings present saddled up next to him, hugging him for comfort. Cissie looked distinctly uncomfortable, suddenly realizing that she was intruding in on a family moment, but calmed down when Jason brought up another chair next to his and patted it expectantly. She quickly transferred seats, and leaned back and watched.
"So," Tim started, catching everyone's attention. "The Court of Owls murdered the Flying Graysons to get to Dick. If they were willing to go that far to snatch him… why didn't they?"
"The same reason Raptor didn't," Jason answered, crossing his arms. "Bruce."
"The adoption," Dick said, looking very exhausted. "It was too public. They couldn't afford to snatch me without drawing attention."
"And with Richie Wayne dominating the society pages even more than dear old Brucie, he was completely out of their reach. So Haley's gave them another candidate: Raymond McCreary."
Dick's head snapped up. "Ray? He's currently training with the Court?"
"Yeah, but he's going to wash out soon. He's not up to standard." Jason paused. "Plus, he also hates you because the only reason he was sold to the Court was because they couldn't get to you."
"Wonderful," Dick sighed. "Just wonderful."
"You're the best, Dickie. Charming, clever, handsome, and without a doubt the greatest acrobat in the world."
Despite the mood, Dick couldn't help but blush compliment. "Jay, that's nice of you and all, but—"
Jason cut him off before he could finish. "Dick, you can perform a quadruple flip," He stated bluntly. "The number of acrobats in the world that can do that can be counted on one hand. And you were able to do it before you were even a preteen." Jason leaned back into his chair, looking completely and utterly serious. "It's not a compliment, it's not hyperbole: you are, without question, the greatest acrobat in the world."
Dick fell silent. He obviously didn't know what to say to that.
"Right. As I was saying, you're the best, and that breeds both resentment and obsession. The Court is proof enough of that." Jason rubbed the bridge of his nose. "In the last timeline… universe, whatever, they never really let go of their obsession of making you their Talon, especially after McCreary washed out on them. They just kept going back to old Talons, including Cobb, instead of recruiting new candidates because they were so intent on the next one being you. I don't believe that's any different here."
"That's why you didn't tell me — you were scared that if I knew the truth, I'd go after them on my own," Dick summed up succinctly.
"So you decided you'd go after them yourself," Tim continued, sounding disturbingly neutral, which, coming from him, might as well be critical. "The return gala. Your return gala. You went around schmoozing with all those rich people, and you had Damian at your hip, showing him off." He moved away from Dick to stare hard at Jason. "It didn't make sense at the time. I thought it was just a WE thing, maybe collecting some gossip and intel for B, and of course promote the Foundation, but no — it was to catch the Court's attention, wasn't it?"
"It was," Jason admitted. "When we took the Court down last time, it Dick and you who ran point, but it took years of intel gathering and manipulation, and really, a lot of dumb luck, to take them down while dealing with everything else we had to deal with. And even then, there were losses. Kate and Renee died, Bette retired permanently. And…" He sighed. "They even managed to take Dick at one point. Brainwash him and turn him into their Talon. We barely managed to get him back and cure him of the condition."
"So you decided to risk yourself instead," Tim intoned, not sounding very impressed.
Jason clicked his teeth. "Tim…"
"Why didn't you bring us in?" His younger brother demanded. "Why didn't you trust us? I can understand Dick, he's too close and he has own city to watch, but what about me? You could have at least told me! I could have helped you!"
"And what could have you done, Tim?" Jason shot back. "Sniff around at school? Ask questions and caught the Court's attention and gotten yourself killed like Stephanie's father did?"
Dick perked up, blinking, while Tim paled. "Wait, Cluemaster figured it out?"
"He did. Just because he's incompetent doesn't mean he isn't smart," Jason pointed out, sounding rather annoyed. "The man is considered a diet Riddler, and trust me, the Riddler would've figured out the Court ages ago if he wasn't so freaking obsessed with his riddles and with Batman, like every other major rogue in Gotham. All Cluemaster had to do was 'follow the clues' as he called it. He found the Court, and to save his skin, sold a pitch to them for their support in his own takeover plan for Gotham." He shrugged. "Unfortunately for him, before it could even get off the ground a girl stumbled onto a meeting he was having with his partners, and snitched it to Steph, who was Batgirl by that point. She found him, beat the crap out of him and his pals, and then sent them off to Blackgate — where they were all promptly killed in a prison riot a few weeks later."
"The Court's work," Cissie assumed.
"Yup. Make no mistake, I didn't want to hide it from you — any of you. But the Court is a wide-spanning organization that's got its grubby little talons everywhere in Gotham and has been around for centuries. I needed to be careful. We needed to be careful. And that meant not tipping them off." Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Dick was too close. You, Tim, and you as well Cass, you're both too green. Damian obviously wasn't an option and still isn't."
"What about B and Alfred, though?" Dick asked.
"…I told them," Jason answered. "And Oracle. You're right, I needed help, and I knew they would've been able to compartmentalize enough to keep things in perspective."
"Wait, did the Court—?"
"No," Jason shook his head. "They did not kill Thomas and Martha Wayne. I can confirm that was just a random mugging. An act of fate."
"I don't know if that's a relief or not," Tim admitted honestly.
"Well, it is what it is. Back to the matter at hand, I told B, Alfred, and Oracle, and they've been helping me with the Court. Gathering intel, researching the history of Gotham, helping me prepare to infiltrate the organization." At their questioning looks, Jason gave a half-shrug. "I was trying to portray myself to the higher members of the Court as an ambitious social climber that was frustrated by Brucie and Richie's antics in besmirching the family name. It's easy to do when you're a relative unknown. From what I remember of the Court, many of its lower-level members are from recently-established minor lineages of about three generations or older, all desperate to climb the ladder."
He gave another shrug, and then a smirk. "A street rat adopted into the richest and most venerated family in Gotham didn't seem too out of place with that. And, well, you know what they say about how money talks. Having access to the Wayne Fortune, to Wayne Enterprises and all its resources? Doesn't matter if the blood isn't blue anymore, does it?"
"When were you planning on infiltrating them?" Tim asked after another moment of silence.
"Originally, whenever they came calling." Jason grimaced, and gestured to all of himself. "Then this happened and I had to go to ground. And considering the army of Talons after us and their obvious alliance with Raptor, who knows who I am — yeah, that infiltration isn't happening anymore."
Cissie frowned. "Speaking of that, that Raptor guy — he's supposed to be some kind of wannabe-Robin Hood, right? Why the hell is he working with the Court, then?"
"Most likely, the same reason he did in the last timeline," Jason explained, looking grim. "So he could betray them and deal a serious blow to their organization, if not take them down for good. The only problem with that is that I don't think he's going to care if innocents are in the way."
There weren't anymore questions after that, so Jason turned his attentions to setting up a projector in the middle of Dick's apartment so they could contact the Bat-Cave and the Clocktower simultaneously and directly. A consequence of Dick's more hamshack-approach to vigilantism since moving to Bludhaven is that he didn't have a setup to connect to either base, nor could he afford to have one. He was, after all, headquartering himself in his own apartment building and went through great pains not to rely on Bruce for money so he could retain some form of independence.
"Considering that this is still a field trip, I guess I should do some lecturing while Jason gets that set up," Dick stated, standing up. He was…better than he was before, after Jason's latest slew of revelations, but he had lost a lot of his earlier cheer. He wasn't quite Bruce or even Jason, but he was certainly showing that you didn't have to be blood to share a relationship.
Speaking of blood… "Before you start on that," Tim cut in, "I just realized something — you're technically the last direct male descendant of the Crowne family."
Dick frowned. "How? My grandfather was the bastard child of its last daughter. That's a matrilineal line."
Tim shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Amelia never married Cobb, and Cobb, as far as we are aware, never legally claimed him as his son — hence why his last name was Grayson after he was adopted by Haley's Circus. Knowing Burton Crowne, he probably deliberately claimed him as a Crowne to hide his connection to Cobb. So, if your grandfather had never been kidnapped, he would've been a Crowne, probably their only male heir since Burton only had daughters and the others beside Amela either died or married out. That makes you a direct descendant, and technically, the heir to what remains of the Crowne Family fortune."
"What remains?" Cissie glanced at them both. "What happened to it? Didn't Burton Crowne donate it to some organization in his will after he died or something? You know, since he didn't have anyone left to give it to? It was the age of philanthropy."
The current Robin snorted. "Yeah, but the Crownes weren't what you called the pinnacle of human morality. Finding out Dick is a direct descendant of them was surprising, yes, but what they did to Cobb?" Tim shook his head. "The Waynes, the Kanes, and the Eliots are doctors and soldiers. The Cobblepots, meanwhile, were crooks even before their last son became an actual crook, and the Crownes were even bigger bastards than them."
He scowled. "Think of the most arrogant, classist, misogynistic, penny-pinching scrooge you can think of and multiply it by a hundred. Those were the Crownes. Make no mistake — while they played a pivotal part in the founding of Gotham and have an occasional memorial paying homage to that, nobody misses them."
Cissie flinched, but nonetheless looked intrigued. "So what does that mean about their fortune?"
"Well," Tim sighed, "A lot of it was splintered away to various relatives after Burton died, including the other First Families, but the bulk was kept in a trust in a secure account in a highly-secure bank located well outside of Gotham, only accessible to someone who can prove they are a direct male descendant of the Crowne Family. I wouldn't be surprised if it was set up that way because Burton was hoping to find his grandson one day and pass on the fortune to him, since he didn't have a son to pass it onto instead. It's been accumulating interest over the past century, and while it's probably a shadow of what it used to be if you factor in inflation, it's still a lot of money. Comparable to the older minor families, or even the major families. If Dick can prove he's that direct descendant—"
"—I can inherit everything," Dick finished. "But I can't, Tim. At least not until the Court is taken down."
Cass, who had largely remained silent since they returned to the apartment, tilted her head up at him. "Why? Could take long time."
"Because it's more than likely that the Court is aware I'm descended from Amelia Crowne. And since we have tangible proof that they may be aware of our identities…" Dick scowled. "It's too risky. We can't afford to signal to them how much we know. And… I have enough my plate already."
His sister continued to peer up at him. "You are conflicted," she observed.
Dick remained silent.
"Dick…" Tim hedged.
"I'm thinking of leaving the BPD. Of…quitting being a police officer."
Everyone stared at him. Even Jason had stopped working to look at him.
Dick inhaled deeply. "Jason, before you start, it's not your fault. I've been thinking about this for a while, and this crisis has only proven that it's for the best." He glanced at the kids. "Our brother brought you here to learn what it means to protect a city on your own. Well, here's the number one lesson you need to learn: prioritizing. Deciding what's more important to you — not to your friends, your family, your teammates or even your enemies, but you — and weighing it against your dedication to the city you've decided to protect, and how you can best do that."
"But what does quitting your job—" Tim started, only for Dick to cut him off.
"I chose to become a cop, to join the BPD, because I want to do good in both my daily life, and my night life," Dick continued, as if Tim hadn't spoken at all. "I thought I could do more good like that. Be a cop during the day, eventually rise up the ranks, clean out the corruption in the system, while being Nightwing at night and clean out the corruption the system couldn't reach."
"But I can't. And you want to know why? Because it's too much." He started pacing around. "I'm a cop for the BPD, with long shifts during the day and barely any time to rest at night, because I'm out at night patrolling as Nightwing. And I don't have days off, because my days off are spent in New York and the East Coast with the Titans, who I lead on missions all the time. And now, there's this." Dick found a nearby wall and leaned against. "Because of a backwards organization of rich assholes and my mom's stalker, my city is set to be plunged into a gang war that I have no chance of handling alone. I'm being run down as it is, and this — this will kill me if I don't unload something before it breaks me."
There was silence. And then, Jason started clapping.
"You are now officially the most sensible member of this family after Alfred and Cass," Jason announced. "Congratulations, Dickie."
Tim raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you the one who forcibly loaded your kids with work in order to force them to learn time management?"
"Aren't my teammates bitching about my workaholic tendencies and my kids drugging my food and drink to force me to rest proof enough that I don't always practice what I preach?" Jason replied sweetly.
"Jason!"
"Timmy, you'll understand when you've got kids of your own to raise and a bunch of responsibilities on top of that," Jason rolled his shoulders. "And that's after all the sacrifices I made to accommodate all that." He stood up, and walked over to join the group. "Let me make this clear to all of you — this isn't just for superheroes. This is for adulthood. You're going to have goals and responsibilities, and there are certain wants that aren't going to corroborate with that. And you — and not anyone else — are going have to decide which is more important."
All three of the teenagers swallowed.
"That's why I don't get why you're so eager to take on so much responsibility," Jason looked nostalgic and bittersweet, "You shouldn't be so eager to grow up."
No one said anything.
"Alright, enough with the lecturing." Jason clapped his hands. "We have a debrief to do. The projector is all set up, so let's contact Batman and Oracle."
Jason's projector, according to him, would project two screens: one of Oracle (using her famous, if mysterious, symbol in place of her actual face, since Cissie was still unaware of her true identity) and one of the Bat-Cave, with Batman, facilitated through a combination of the Bat-Computer's servers and Oracle's own vast systems. Tim questioned him about how it worked, and was completely and utterly fascinated by Jason's explanation (which he had claimed was 'limited' by future standards and would've been better explained by Wallace or Kon). The future, apparently, had advanced greatly in terms of technology.
The conversation ceased after the connections were made and both screens were holographically projected into the air. Jason straightened his back. "Batman. Oracle."
"Knight. I assume Nightwing, Robin, Black Bat, and Arrowette with you?" Bruce addressed them gruffly.
"Yes. Has Oracle told you what happened?"
"She said you were being chased by an army of 'undead assassins' when she last spoke with Nightwing. Knight—"
"They know, Batman, Oracle," Jason interjected. "It's okay to talk about it openly."
"…Very well," Batman acknowledged. "If that is the case, then there is something you need to know. The Vanavers are dead."
Someone could've heard a pin drop. "What?" Jason demanded, suddenly looking very scared.
"The Vanavers are dead," Bruce repeated, sounding grim. "Killed about ten to twelve hours ago by unknown assailants, down to the last child and including all of their present staff. They were found in their rooms by their housekeeper, who had gone home early but had returned when she realized she had forgotten something at their estate."
"Are you telling me that one of Gotham's five major families has been wiped out?" Tim asked, whiter than a sheet.
"It's worse than that, Tim," Jason told him, staring at the wall with a far-off look. "The Vanavers were the most powerful family in the Court. Samantha Vanaver is… was the Grandmaster of the Court of Owls."
Dick's eyes were wide, and he put a hand to his forehead in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me…"
"It's worse than you think," Barbara's mechanized voice echoed through the speakers. "The Vanavers weren't the only family killed. Approximately half the Court's membership was slaughtered throughout the city. The entire GCPD, along with Batman and the Birds of Prey, are currently investigating and combing the city for the perpetrators, whoever they might be. A city-wide order has been issued by the mayor, instructing that everyone follow the Joker Guidelines until the killers have been apprehended."
"And the other half?" Jason asked, urgent. "What about them?"
Batman growled. "They've gone to ground. I had Spoiler investigate the list of the Court's membership from the data packet you gave me a couple days ago. She discovered that members of the Court and their families have been gradually leaving Gotham on international trips over the past three months, and none of them have returned, or even scheduled themselves to return."
"So if half have been killed, and the other half have fled Gotham…" Dick started.
"…Then the Court's splintered," Tim finished, grimacing. "This was a coup."
Jason crossed his arms, and clicked his teeth. "Well then Dickie, it looks like you'll be getting your money after all."
Another plot twist. Really twisty, isn't it?
Well, this is the last finished chapter I had in queue. I delayed it because of the Inauguration, but now that is over, here it is. It'll be a while until I start uploading again.
Until then, I suggest either updating the TV Tropes page, re-reading some of my stories, or reading some of ArlyssTolero's Arrowverse stories, including the one I'm co-authoring currently on AO3 — The Legend of the Green Arrow. It's starting to get really good, and trust me, those of you that have been keeping up with it haven't seen anything yet.
Next chapter: Goodbye, Bludhaven.
