AN: This took way too long and I apologize profusely. Too much stuff came up and when I did have free time, I wasn't motivated, but I finally finished it after a very interesting first month of school. Then, my beta had to go through and fix my many mistakes. (Friendly tip: don't pull an all nighter to finish a chapter if you can avoid it. Your grammar will go down the drain.) It was originally 13,000 words, but it's now two parts, so this is only 6,000.
Thanks to TooCreative4Life, who is still incredibly awesome, for betaing!
Disclaimer: These are so stupid. I don't own YJ.
WARNING: DAY 13 HAS SOME SELF-HARM AND A SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN IT. SKIP OVER THAT IF YOU FEEL THE NEED TO.
Day 12
Jack Haly was used to the unexpected. He spent all of his time around men who breathed fire and women who swallowed swords, so he always prided himself on his acceptance of the bizarre happenings in the world. However, opening his bedroom door to find the Batman, of all people, blocking the light from the hall could not have been expected by any means, no matter how much of his life he spent with carnies and clowns.
Without a word, Batman swept into Jack's room. Only then did he notice the five kids tailing along, previously hidden by the cape. If not for the brightly colored costumes that practically sent fireworks into the air, and the fact that one of them had gills and another was green, Jack would not have even cast them a second glance when passing them in the street. But, because these kids were in fact wearing attention-grabbing clothing and one of them did have gills while another was green, not to mention they had practically ambushed him in his bedroom with the freaking Dark Knight, Jack decided to not just take a second look; he decided to outright stare.
It was because of that staring that Jack recognized the chiseled jaw and light blue eyes that seemed to be staring right into his very soul, and the silky, blonde ponytail that very few people in the world must have had the pleasure of possessing.
Even when Batman swiftly crossed the room, shut the door, and locked it with a foreboding click, Jack didn't divert his attention from the teens in front of him. Finally, he spoke up, unknowingly cutting off Batman, who had opened his mouth not a second earlier, and sputtered unbelievingly, "D-Diane? Dane? What are you - y-you're heroes?"
The two teens - who were dressed like they were ready to save the world, for Pete's sake; what happened to the simple group of talented kids? - stiffened, along with the redhead who Jack realized had to be Kid Flash and the green girl. Batman, whose presence was still being questioned since last time Jack checked Miami was not Gotham, didn't move except for widening a single eye-thingy. The dark-skinned guy with gills only cast a mild, accusatory glare in the direction of Dane, Diane, Greenie, and Kid Flash, which succeeded in confusing Jack even more so.
Batman stepped forward, attracting the older man's attention, and said, "Mr. Haly, despite the fact that you may recognize some of my...companions, that's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you here," Jack demanded, jaw set in a rebellious manner. Even when only wearing blue boxers and a stained T-shirt, toothbrush still clenched in hand, Jack Haly wouldn't allow himself to get pushed around by anybody, the Batman included, until the day he died.
Unfazed by the lack of a warm welcome, Batman deadpanned, "We need you to tell us everything you know about Dick Grayson."
The toothbrush hit the ground.
Day 12
"Man," Dick puffed, dodging a gloved fist that was headed for the side of his torso. "I should make Felix mad more often! You're actually a challenge!"
His opponent smirked underneath the mask, because he always did when someone complemented his fighting skill, but none of his amusement managed to wriggle its way into his iris. Instead, the man caught Dick's leg, which had been heading for his skull in an attempt to go on the offensive, in a vice-like grip and lifted; leaving the teen dangling helplessly upside down.
Dick resisted the urge to squirm impishly, because it was a lot like a jungle gym.
The man's hand loosened, and Dick dropped into a swift back-handspring, landing a yard away from Deathstroke. "Don't be so predictable," he commanded, deep voice rebounding throughout the chamber. "I can tell what you're going to do before you even know. Try something different."
Nodding thoughtfully, Dick waited a full two seconds, before rushing forward, ducking under Deathstroke's arm. Planting a single palm on the crown of his head Dick brought his legs over himself, kicking the mercenary between the shoulder blades, before completing another flip. He landed in a crouch on the ground.
Deathstroke slowly turned around, rolling his shoulders irritably while his single eye narrowed, and hesitantly growled, "Better. Try it again." He put up his fisted hands and waited for the youth to come at him.
Dick obliged.
Day 12
"Wait, wait, wait. Tell me again why you need to know anything about Dick?"
Batman breathed a tight sigh through his nose that momentarily made his cowl shift uncomfortably, but he was too focused on the man before him to care. This had to be the fifth - or was it the sixth? - time that he had explained to Jack Haly why they needed information on Dick; but with the fact that secret identities and the covert existence of the Team were at risk, it was becoming steadily more difficult to get across how dire the situation was.
"My protege, Whisper, has been taken, and we have evidence suggesting that he somehow knew Dick Grayson. Any information on his life would be of great assistance." Gritting his teeth slightly at the thought of having to admit he needed the h-word, yet still refusing to speak it aloud, and especially in front of the Team. Batman waited with fisted hands for Haly's reply.
Finally, the ringmaster shifted slightly on his newfound place on his bed and stuck out his lower lip in thought. "This - Whisper fellow; was he that small, dark haired lad you two had with you right before Christmas?" Haly turned to Superboy and Artemis, totally ignoring Miss Martian, who had yet to be revealed as 'Dawn', and looked on with a small amount of worry in his eyes.
Artemis lightly bit her lip, casting a contemplative look in Superboy's direction, and upon the clone's bored-looking shrug, heaved a mighty sigh. "Yes, that was him. He...told us that he was friends with, uh, Dick - so we were hoping you could help us out?" Artemis finished her inquiry by grasping her hands in front of her and putting on the most adorable smile she could manage. While maintaining her sweet-and-innocent charade, the archer graciously elected to ignore Kid Flash's muffled guffaws.
It wasn't her fault that she and the little troll had shared late-night-bonding-time by eating Sour Patch Kids, stealing sips of each others Diet Dr. Peppers and laughing at the latest Justin Bieber song while the rest of the Team was asleep. It had felt nice to get away from the pressure of being surrounded by people with powers, and even though the acrobat's skills had originally ignited a spark of jealousy inside of her, it was always good natured. Honestly, Artemis would probably get down on the floor and break out her very best puppy-dog-eyes for Haly if necessary.
Thankfully, it wasn't needed.
The amount of worry in Haly's eyes rapidly escalated as soon as those words left Artemis' mouth. "Wait - you're saying that Dan - Whisper - whatever his real name is - was the one kidnapped? The one taken?"
"In essence...yes."
All former anxiety drained from Haly's eyes as it was replaced by an emotion that Batman knew all too well: pure determination. "Fine. What do you need to know?"
A light smirk pulled up the edges of Batman's lips and his clenched jaw loosened unnoticeably. "Anything and everything," he replied.
And Jack did tell them about the love the Graysons bestowed upon their son; and how even though he had been home schooled, he had learned algebra by the time he was eight; and how Dick had gone missing every now and then during the U.S. tours, only to be found sound asleep on the crook of Zitka the elephant's neck; and how the night the rest of the Graysons fell, Dick was right there to hear their garbled gasps as their bones cracked upon the ground and their blood splayed outward.
"I was devastated," Jack choked out. "Because I had refused to pay that good-for-nothing mobster, I lost not five, but six members of my family. This circus and the people in it are everything to me and I would never intentionally hurt them, but it still happened. They died and Dick vanished right after the cops got there."
Everybody was surprised when Batman was the one to comfort the ringmaster, silently walking over and placing a consoling hand on Jack's shoulder. His voice still stoic as usual, Batman grumbled, "Zucco is in prison and we know now that Dick Grayson is alive. Is there anything else you have to tell us?"
Jack started to nod, before remembering the conversation he had had on Christmas Eve with Dick. "Ah, yeah, actually; there is. His parents, they liked to call him Robin. It was his nickname since the first time he was on the trapeze. Said he looked just like the bird."
Nodding once, Batman swept out of the room, the young heroes in pursuit, leaving Jack to wonder if that had really just happened or someone had drugged him in his sleep. He just shook his head and picked up his toothbrush, shuffling off towards the bathroom.
He didn't feel the small breeze that signaled the Bioship's departure.
Day 12
Dick fingered the three lit slots on his collar, thrumming his thigh with his other hand. It was different than the inhibitor collars that were used at Belle Reve, more complex and harder to get off, and Dick knew that it was not supposed to be so lightweight and comfortable. He had tried a few times in the moments when he was left alone during training to pry it off with a sword or random arrow, but nothing had worked. The only question was how the League of Jerks had come by something so high quality. They had a habit of paying or blackmailing people to do things for them instead of doing it themselves, which meant that the Team or League probably would have heard about it.
For instance, the Prankster, a one-time villain that had been jailed over 5 years ago, had been forced to design the computer systems that Dick had renovated earlier that week. For its time, the software was genius, but with today's tech, it was considered out-of-date and definitely hackable. However, the first time Dick was at the base, since no Talons actually were adequate in technology, he had still reverse-engineered it in order to learn how to hack and create programs.
Mentally going through a list of the Team's and League's mission files, Dick recalled Artemis, Wally, Kaldur, and Roy working together while he himself was dealing with the Scarecrow fiasco. Artemis had reported seeing Professor Ivo working on a collar, which made a lot of sense now.
The Talons had connections all throughout the criminal underworld and it was a known fact that Sportsmaster did the occasional job for them. It figured that he would get his eldest daughter in on the act, too, and that together they had acted as the middlemen between Ivo and the Talons. The question was, how had the Talons known about Dick being part of the Team and how long had they been planning on taking him back?
It was true that Dick had been in the newspaper a few times, the first appearance dating back to a simple grocery store robbery when the cashier had snapped a cheap shot on his cell phone. But that was only two months ago; the Talons were usually known for taking more time than that to carry out their plans, so why had they-
Oh. The shopping trip with Bruce.
Dick's absolutely irresistible face had been plastered across any and all TVs tuned into Gotham News' station, and if the League of Jerks didn't listen to all the gossip around each heroes' cities, then Dick was a penguin. No other paparazzi incidents had occurred after that, but one was all the Talons needed. They had seen him and had begun planning his "return".
Giving a heavy sigh, Dick pulled his knees to his chest - creating a twinge of pain in his left wrist, which Deathstroke had twisted in training - and leaned back onto the stone wall that his cot was pushed against. He wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.
Day 12
The Bioship hit the ground faster than ever before, jostling the heroes inside. Nonetheless, the moment the hatch was open, Bruce's feet hit the concrete floor. He nearly sprinted to the briefing room. In his wake, all of the Team, except for Red Arrow, who had stayed behind at the Cave, trotted along; Wally obviously having difficulty suppressing his urge to run ahead.
Bruce pulled up a screen before he was even at a complete stop, fingers reaching out desperately to the keys. The visit to Haly's Circus had been enlightening, to say the least, and Bruce was going to use that to his advantage.
Like so many people, Bruce could multi-task to a certain degree, so as he typed in the simplest entries, he had other things on his mind, too.
Bruce had thought about how Dick Grayson was alive several times, but had dismissed each thought with a quiet severity. He needed to focus on the most important mystery: finding Dick and Whisper, and rescuing them both. Besides, if it was need-to-know information, Bruce had faith that Whisper would have told him. Granted, he had not told him about knowing a secret criminal organization, but Artemis had had her secrets too.
When - not if, never if - Whisper came home, Dick in tow with him, Bruce would get answers. But, for now, he needed to focus on the mission. With that, the man returned his full attention to the screen in front of him, ready for something that wasn't a dead end.
'Trapeze.'
Negative. Bruce's eyes narrowed.
'Circus.'
Negative. A guttural growl permeated the air for a second, earning him several odd looks, which he promptly ignored.
'Haly.'
Negative. Mentally entertaining the thought of banging West's head into a wall, Bruce moved to type in the next entry. The Team seemed relieved that he wasn't reacting vocally anymore, though that left them scared of how he was reacting otherwise.
'Elephant.'
Negative. Fishsticks à la Kaldur'ahm sounded quite delicious at the moment.
'Mary Grayson.'
Negative. Or maybe green-tinted brownies.
'John Grayson.'
Negative. If the right amount of Kryptonite was applied, Conner might be edible.
Now on the other side of the room, the Team watched as Batman stiffened with each failed entry. M'gann was exceedingly glad she wasn't accidentally wandering into other people's heads anymore.
'The Flying Graysons.'
Negative. Artemis had a lot of sinewy muscle on her, and Bruce had always like his meat as lean as possible.
Better have Alfred fire up the oven.
Bruce entered in countless more, spirit decreasing - though his temper was doing quite the opposite - each time a red 'X' appeared to mock him. Finally, after what seemed like, and probably was, hours, Bruce almost reached the end of the mental list he had created while visiting Haly.
'Peanut' was a bust, leaving Bruce to absentmindedly question where the stuffed elephant had even gone. The inquiry was banished from his mind within seconds.
Buttons were pressed and 'Zitka' was carefully formed on the screen. As soon as Bruce hit the return button, a large red cross appeared and the bar became blank once again. There was only one guess left. Only one more word that might save Whisper and Dick.
Bruce typed in 'Robin' and held his breath.
Day 13
The shuriken was sharp, sculpted into flawless points that bit into Dick's palm every time he aimed it at the circular bulls eyes at the other end of the room. It was different than a batarang or his wisps - harsher, less lenient and more raw - but Dick had adjusted to the new design quickly, even making several impressive tosses in the process.
Yet, that was not what bothered him. Felix had left a few minutes ago, called away by another nameless face in the maze that Dick was trapped in, and as the Talon had walked alongside Felix out of the room, Dick thought he had heard murmured mentions of Batman, and the Team, and Haly's, but he soon categorized it with the other fantasies he had come up with during his time in captivity.
The fantasies where Bruce magically teleported straight to Dick's cell and swept him away, back to the Manor, back to home. Or where Wally ran around the facility fast enough to create a tornado that destroyed the wretched place and sent all the Talons to jail via speed trail. A particularly fascinating one included M'gann density shifting in, hood pulled down to her eyes, and forcing her way into Felix's mind, making it so that he was trapped in the depths of his own insanity, forever picturing ferocious eyes that glowed green and ripped into his very being.
Out of all of those, the fact that the League had finally discovered Dick's connection to Haly's Circus was most realistic, but Dick still refused to let his imagination get away from him, dragging his hope with it. Contained hope was brilliant, amazing in so many ways that Dick couldn't even begin to describe, but unrestrained, it could be morphed into pure rage if the hope was not well placed. Dick had dealt with enough rage in his lifetime; rage towards Tony Zucco, who's name still sent a jolt of vile poison through his very soul every time he pictured that smug grin that always seemed to have captured a toothpick that could pop Dick's image of a good and happy life; rage at the League of Jerks, for morphing him into something he never even pictured himself capable of being; and most importantly, rage at himself, for not being good enough, or strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough to keep the ones that he loved safe.
But sadness wasn't the same as rage, was it?
Sadness was more delicate, less volatile and unsteady than either hope or rage. Sadness was acceptable, Dick decided as he unsteadily surveyed the shuriken held between his thumb, and pointer and middle finger. Sadness had enveloped him when he had first arrived at the Talon's base, broken and scared, just as it did now. Felix had told him that sadness and pain were bad, a weakness just waiting to be exploited, but didn't Dick now live by the philosophy that anything Felix said was false?
Therefore, sadness was okay, and did that extend to actions caused by sadness, too? Don't think that, Dick's inner voice reprimanded. You started to go down that road before and it was a bad one. Leave it alone.
But Dick couldn't. The idea captivated him, flooding his head with empty promises and whispering encouraging words to him. His fingers tingled and the shuriken suddenly did not feel so deadly. More like soft and comforting, a way to safety; a way out of the hell he was in.
His parents would be glad to see him, and the same undoubtedly applied to his aunt, uncle, and cousin, too. But, right now, Dick was alone in the base, alone and scared, waiting for something that might not ever come. What was the point, Dick wondered, tilting his head in order to see the light reflect off the throwing star.
That was it. There wasn't one. The only point was to be the little minion Felix desired of him, but Dick didn't want that. He would choose what happened to him and when - nobody else would have that honor.
With trembling hands, Dick glided the tip of the shuriken to the pale, translucent skin encompassing the inside of his wrist. There had been a time when he had been tan, spotlights illuminating his Roma heritage like no other light could, but that time had passed. Maybe...maybe that time would come again, when he was back with his parents.
With that, Dick pressed down, the cold metal biting into his skin like frostbite. He did not think about Felix walking in on him, or that there was probably a Talon keeping watch through the video camera that decorated every single room at the base, he only thought about his family and flying with them again.
A single drop of red rolled away from the pinprick just beginning to form and Dick immediately thought of his costume as a Flying Grayson. It had been mostly red, with gold trim accented the lean, muscular body that all trapeze artists were forced to have.
There had been another outfit similar to that, Dick recalled numbly. A jacket that seemed like it was from a lifetime ago. In some ways it was, marking the opening act of a play that ended far too soon, all because the Talons had seen him after he came out of that dressing room. At the thought, Dick's nose wrinkled and he pushed a little harder, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from showing his pain, even though a low growl that resembled a wounded animal more than an actual threat managed to introduce itself to the air of the room.
More rivulets appeared on Dick's arm, crisscrossing the purple outlines that were the veins from which they originated, dropping down onto the stone ground beneath Dick's feet while making what Dick was sure were audible plops combined with giant splashes resembling those that were formed in pools when kids more carefree and happier than Dick did cannonballs.
The blood kept coming, drop by drop, ounce by ounce, and Dick was once again forced to remember his uniform from his childhood and the clothing he had rejected because of it.
"I look like an idiot."
"It can't be that bad."
"I'm wearing bright yellow! Of course it's that bad!"
Dick winced. The pressure on his wrist was decreasing, slowly but surely, as the memories inside his head increased in volume, and that was bad. He needed to keep going; a few slices to an artery and he would be good, but not if he kept pausing.
"...why can't anyone just be whelmed?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Why isn't anyone just whelmed?"
Whelmed. Why had Dick ever felt the need to come up with such ridiculous words? To keep himself some form of happy? The right answer was simple and had been there all along, so if he could just keep going...
"...then is the disaster the opposite of aster? You know, instead of things going wrong, they go right!"
"An aster is a flower."
Dick certainly wasn't feeling the aster, and it was those memories' fault. As much as Dick prayed that they would stop, they didn't. He was losing his resolve, his drive to see his parents and it was all Bruce's damn fault. The Team's constant emotional crap replaying at the back of his mind wasn't helping either.
"Many believe the boy to be Mr. Wayne's long lost son..."
"Not that, you would be a bad dad, I mean..."
"I'll tell the Team you're staying with me..."
"Just an assassin."
"If you think you can handle it."
"We're a team, all six of us!"
"You really don't give yourself enough credit."
"You seem pretty good at making friends to me."
"What kind of technology do you use to power your glove?" "You're seriously asking about the tech? Not the fact that I was looking up elephants?" "I've learned not to ask with you." "Good choice."
"That's it. All four are dead...The cameras, I-I meant the cameras. I-I'm sure the others are okay."
"Well get traught, or get dead."
The images ran together, taking control of Dick's fingers and loosening them, pulling them away from his own skin. There was a small puddle on the ground by now, a dark crimson. That made Dick proud and happy, but at the same time made him want to retch until his stomach was empty. Dick could taste blood too, pooling around the inside of his mouth, painting his gums vermillion, but he didn't relinquish the hold he had on his cheek.
The memories went faster.
"Wanna go play some video games?" "Sure. But I'll warn you now. I've never played." "All the better for me."
"Sorry about that, uhhhh instincts?"
"They're really gone..."
"Exercise?"
"It's not a need, it's a fact. I'm fine."
"You're coming to the Manor with me." "Yes sir."
"Showing emotion isn't a weakness. Sometimes, you need to let those feelings out. Understood?" "Yeah."
"Remind me again how it is that you know almost everything about the Leaguers and the Team but we know nothing of your backstory?"
"...I'm pretty sure he had the biggest blue eyes in the world."
"So, is this your first Thanksgiving?" "Might as well be."
"Dude, that's what a best pal's for."
"Thank you, my little Robin."
"Shit!"
Dick was an idiot. His hands were trembling as he looked at the shuriken. It was on the other side of the room, where he had thrown it and managed to embed it into a wall. It wasn't far enough away as Dick looked away. Dick just wanted to go home. He wanted to wash all of the blood off of his hands; not just his own, but all the other people's; he wanted to take away the need to deny the prickling at the back of his eyes. He wanted Bruce and the Team and Alfred, but most of all he wanted away from the Talons.
He was shaking, breaths coming out sharp and ragged as he curled up against the wall, but he refused to cry. God, he wanted to, if only just to show he was really human after all, but he couldn't. Not in front of the camera. Not in front of Felix.
Reaching up a hand - the hand that had almost ended his own life; why wouldn't it stop quivering, making him think he was weak - Dick wiped away the thin trail of blood that had made its way out of his mouth. Only when he felt a stickiness coat his chin did he realize his hand was tainted too, and Dick carefully drew it away from his face, looking at it in bewilderment.
I just tried to kill myself, he realized, the prickling at the back of his eyes becoming worse.
It was then that the door swung open, and Felix stalked in, regarding the sharp points of the throwing star that were still visible disdainfully, before turning his piercing gaze to Dick. The man did not say a word, only walking over and grasping Dick's upper arm in a grip much too tight that had him gasping in shock, before dragging Dick out of the room and into the corridor.
Dick stumbled along, trying desperately to keep up, but combining the facts that his mind still was lost back in that room, staring at the red-stained shuriken in horror, and that blood continued pouring from the hole in his arm, his feet felt leaden beneath him.
Once he finally did get his bearings back, Felix had already pulled Dick up a short flight of stairs that led out of the training area, through the main hallway that all offices were settled on, and down the first few steps that Dick had to walk on every morning to get out of what he had bitterly dubbed 'The Dungeon.' Looking behind him, he could see crimson drops adorning each stone step and a few more that had latched onto Felix's mauve robe. The assassin did not care, only marching forward with a stony expression twisting his lips downward and pushing his eyebrows together.
Finally, they reached the door to Dick's cell, which Felix flung open, because it was only locked when he was inside it, and tossed Dick through. The teen landed on his elbow, sending a jolt throughout his arm, but Dick ignored it. He quickly schooled his face from shocked to angry, a glare pushing from his slitted eyes as his right hand carefully moved to staunch the blood flowing from his wrist, and lifted his chin. He secretly was hoping to regain at least an ounce of pride from his place on the floor.
Felix stood in the doorway, an imposing figure which cast a shadow that blanketed Dick's sitting form. "Your actions were pitiful." The word was spat, slicing a knife right through the air, and making Dick look at a random ant that was crawling its way across the ground. "It is days like these that I wonder why I even bother with training you."
"Then let me go," Dick burst, eyes finding Felix's and sitting up taller, straightening his spine. "If you're so unsatisfied with me, then why even keep me here? I clearly don't want to stay, or is that not obvious?"
Before Dick even knew what was happening, Felix was away from the doorway and crouching in front of him, a steely grip holding Dick's chin still. The teen watched cautiously as the man's eyes darted back and forth, taking in his expression before stopping. Felix's irises glinted a dark brown. "Listen very carefully. You have failed in your duties, disobeyed orders, and all in all, been nothing but a burden on me and my men. But hear me now: this is the last straw. You make one more rebellious comment that so much as makes my mouth twitch downward and you will be joining your parents. Not your precious Batman or any of his allies - your parents. Understood?"
Dick's mouth parted, ready to spew a quip about how Felix's mouth was always twitched downwards, but he decided against it, only swallowing and giving a slow, deliberate nod. His chin was thrust back, body rocking with the action, and a slam was heard, leaving Dick alone in the dimness with a bleeding arm.
When he looked around, the ant had already left.
He really was alone.
Day 13
The fact that Whisper was a troll had always been obvious, but it became painfully clear when the Team and League only received a single document after they typed in the password. An hour later, they had two; an hour after that granted them a total of three. When Whisper had said that he wanted them to take their time with the planning, he didn't mention that he had a failsafe - the entire Team shivered at the word - established to ensure that they did so.
So, at the moment, they had a collection of digital newspaper clippings about Dick Grayson's past that could've easily been acquired by Batman; all analyses completed on Arkham Asylum patients up until two years ago; and several miscellaneous biographies on people who dropped out of existence years ago.
In other words, as soon as Batman rescued Whisper, he was going to ground him for being so damn smart when dealing with impatient heroes.
Day 13
Dick obeyed, no matter how much he wanted to return each order with snide remarks, a halo of temptation surrounding them. His mildness was, in turn, rewarded with the freedom of being escorted around the base without handcuffs; though when he had politely asked if the same privilege would be extended to his collar, Felix had only looked at him with a face that said, in the most "diplomatic" way possible, 'are you stupid or something?'
The question was not brought up again.
However, it was because of the new arrangement that when Dick passed a young, olive-skinned girl, who being guided along by a woman who was so similar in looks she could only be her mother, the two katana-toting Talons that were with him did not notice he had stopped until they looked behind themselves.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dick observed in amusement as the more flat-chested of the pair started to shout an order before going rigid when he realized Dick had merely paused to look at the girl, and was not even a hallway away. The two immediately made their way over to Dick, but they did not make any move past freezing as soon as they saw who he was with. Content with the notion that the Talons were too scared to bother him for whatever reason, Dick allowed his eyes to roam along the girl, taking in her appearance.
She was small, the top of her head barely reaching Dick's midriff. An overwhelming sensation bubbled in his stomach, urging him to lean down and ruffle her dark, silky hair; the sensation was unwelcome. Just the way she moved signaled grace far beyond Dick's own, and it reminded him of water on glass, gliding with purpose and elegance; but something told him the girl was slightly more dangerous than she let on.
Especially because of the way her eyes surveyed Dick's form, flitting to where he was going to shift a second before he himself decided to. The overall aura around her was eery, sending goosebumps racing up Dick's spine like horses on a racetrack, and judging by the way the two Talons were doing their best to urge him back to his cell, he guessed he was not the only one experiencing it.
Hesitantly, jerking his arm away when a hand was wrapped around it and sending a threatening look to the owner, Dick said, "Hey, name's Dick. And you are?"
The girl didn't reply, only tilting her head and sweeping her eyes from Dick's feet to his head, the darkness of her irises reminding Dick of the shadows that he had found refuge in during grueling patrols alongside Bruce. Dick huffed, teeth biting into the inside of his lips at the girl's lack of response, and tried again.
"You being trained to be a child assassin, too? 'Cause I know firsthand how that is." A small noise of protest from one of the men behind Dick, but it was silenced by a single glare from the woman.
Dick shifted, becoming uneasy when he realized the Talons were openly showing deep respect, almost fear, to the two females. They were both watching him now, as if waiting for a source of a good laugh. Taking the course of action that would grant him more time out of his cell, because being cramped up in that tiny room was anything but fun for him, Dick decided to give them one.
"Have you met Feliciano yet? I call him Felix 'cause it seems more fitting, but now that I think about it..." Dick's voice faded off, his thumb and pointer finger rising to rub his chin. "...Maybe my name would be much more suited for him!" He finished with a wide, dopey smile plastered on his face and watched the girl expectantly.
She rewarded him with a small grin, the edges of her two front teeth just barely peeking through her lips, and Dick found himself letting out a breathy laugh. Her eyes remained confused, though, and she was obviously still not grasping what Dick had said, but he found that he did not care. She got that he was trying to be funny and reacted to it, which even though Dick had no idea who the girl or her background was, made him feel as if he had accomplished a small victory.
Right as the teen opened his mouth to make another joke, because the sight of her smiling sparked a feeling that Dick had only encountered during his time around Garfield Logan, a hand clamped around his wrist, tighter than before, and began dragging Dick away. His complaints were ignored. Dick twisted, eyes narrowing as he was led farther down the hall.
He had honestly no idea why he had instinctively gravitated towards her, but something about the fact that they were both kids had struck a cord in him, rampaging throughout his body until it pushed him to know more, to know her.
Once he was in his cell again, he had an epiphany, as he so often did when he had nothing else to do but think and stare at grimy stone. The woman had seemed familiar when he first caught sight of her, but he had brushed it off. Now, however, the long dark hair and red garments brought back the memory of a file he had glanced at years ago.
Which meant that the sweet girl whose smile had given Dick such a feeling of accomplishment, was Lady Shiva's daughter.
Day 14
It took 27 hours, but the location and blueprints of the Talons' base finally were downloaded onto the Cave's mainframe - at one in the morning. Fortunately, Bruce was wide awake and wasted no time in calling the Team in the briefing room to show them his find.
As far as Bruce could tell, the base had four stories: an area for cells, a level completely filled with training rooms, a hallway with offices, and quarters for what must have been the rest of the Talons. Whisper was obviously being kept in the cells - Dick, too, no doubt - and training was definitely a daily occurrence for the pair, but there were too many variables and Bruce found himself worrying.
Not only did they have to find a way inside, but they had to keep quiet until they found Whisper. Bruce was not familiar with the League of Talons and he wanted to be sure they would not kill Whisper if they realized he was being rescued. Not only that, but planning according to the layout of the building would be completely useless if they did not know where it was.
As soon as Bruce glanced at the location, a deep frown carved itself into his face.
Spain!?
Perfect. Another few hours in the Ship of Living Matter was just what Bruce needed to calm his nerves. It was not like the ship could spontaneously decide to go rogue or anything, and kill the entirety of its passengers, the Team and himself.
Yeah, perfect.
AN: And it's done! The next chapter is already written, it just has to be looked over by my beta, and it's about the same length. Again, sorry it took so long this time. Happy Holidays!
-gsdlover1623