Jason was thumping his head onto the wall behind him when Ella entered their cell. Deathstroke stayed slouched like he was content and relaxed but his gaze tracked her figure smoothly. She never seemed bothered or intimidated and Jason was more curious as to how another kid like Damian dealt with such non-kid-friendly environments. Most people would assume that vigilante attitudes and confidence came with the profession, but it was more often than not that their line of work numbed and desensitized everyone after a while. Ella though, Ella seemed different like she was dealing with it all despite this world being her's every day. Unlike Damian, she didn't fall headfirst into a particular character trait or rely heavily on defensive coping mechanisms. She wasn't numb to the horrors and dangers of the people around her, she was wading through it.

She glanced at the TV monitor. The same awful monitor that caused Jason and his brothers pain every day, but to take it away would be worse. Dick hadn't moved in a while. He'd been thrown into his cell and had been in the same position for what felt like a few hours. His face and chest were darker and splotchy which suggested early bruising. Jason wasn't sure if Dick was unconscious or asleep but he looked pretty content to stay flat on his back.

Tim had taken to talking aloud and no one had it in them to shush him, if anything the minimal petty arguments between Tim and Damian felt like a relief, a flashback to normalcy.

"I hope Alfred called the school and got our classes halted or canceled for illness," Tim said as his gaze followed Ella. She never acknowledged anyone directly anymore so no one spoke to her directly; not even Tim. Not anymore.

"Tsk, Pennyworth is not a simpleton, of course, he has had the foresight to send word to our respective schools"

Tim frowned but there was no real annoyance behind his eyes.

Ella set down a tray before Damian and unshackled one hand. Without a word, he began to eat his measly fruit and sandwich. Damian, Jason, and Tim were fed 3 small meals a day whereas it was a gamble on whether Bruce and Slade would receive anything besides water. They'd tried to hide or withhold food just in case Bruce wasn't allotted any food but Ella had informed them that would merely limit their own meals and that it was not worth it. After a couple of minutes, Damian slowed down and started playing with his food. Tim frowned and made eye contact with Jason; that wasn't a good sign. Damian always had a large appetite; they all did. It came with the vigilante life of burning 3 times the calories an average person was encouraged to consume. This meant that Damian was either sick or his stomach was shrinking. Both were bad for his health.

Jason cleared his throat, causing Damian to look at him. Jason looked at Damian's tray with intent, conveying that he wasn't to waste anything. Damian's shoulders sagged and he couldn't help glancing at Bruce across the way. Bruce was watching their interaction and his expression hardened when Damian looked at him with puppy dog eyes DIck was so susceptible to. Damian sighed, feeling as if he'd lost the battle. He reached forward and forced himself to finish the rest of his sandwich and water. While Damian was forcing the water down when Ella spoke, surprising everyone, "Why do you call me Ella?"

Tim's eyes were focused on her but his face was stunned. Ella had never initiated conversation unless they were acting out, especially after recent events, "Well, you just look like an Ella, I guess. I dunno, you wouldn't tell us your name"

She blinked at him, "That is because I have no name"

Tim stared back, "That's-That's not great. Everyone needs a name"

"Dogs do not require names. I know what I am, I do not need additional information to occupy my mind"

Tim wasn't sure how to respond. It was shocking to hear such a young girl call herself a dog. Was this a glimpse into what Dick might've grown up believing if Bruce hadn't saved him from Juvie?

Tim had the question on the tip of his tongue. he would've asked, 'Does Cobb call you a dog?' had Damian not interrupted.

"Everyone needs a name, idiot"

Ella looked to Damian and cocked her head slightly, "I disagree. The Court disagrees"

Damian rolled his eyes, "It is a means to make you embrace your own submission, fool. They do not want individualism"

Ella nodded, "This is true. The Court does not accept outliers and expects 100% obedience, but this tradition does not embrace weakness nor submission"

Damian shook his head, "A name is what signifies that you belong"

Ella frowned, "I belong to the Court and yet I do not have a name. Your logic is faulty"

Damian glared, "I am never wrong!" He caught Jason and Tim glaring t him before he lowered his voice, "I am not, I may be misinformed but I am never wrong"

"Then you are misinformed"

"I am not"

"I disagree"

"I know you do"

"Oooooohhh my god" Jason groaned.

Damian sent a scathing glare at Jason, "My point is that a name ignifies you belong somewhere"

"Like I said" She replied patiently. "That is not the case here so your statement is not all-consuming"

"No, you belong to the Court, not with them"

"I do not see how the technicalities of prepositions matter much"

"I did not have a name when I was born. I was only the heir to the League of Shadows until I was brought to Gotham, only my mother called me by my birth name in secret. Richard gave me my name, he gave me multiple"

Ella watched Damian with apt attention.

"I was born Damian but once I began belonging with my father and family, I was Robin and Dami and ….brat" he muttered the last part, "The point is that a name signifies you belong somewhere and that they accept you. It is a sign of loyalty and trust, not ownership"

She looked at Damian with pity, "Those are nicknames, shortened names, and nothing more"

Damian shook his head adamantly, "No! That's not it at all"

She crossed her arms, appearing to humor him, "Alright, what is your nickname for the Grey Son? I have seen others call him shortened names but you call him by his legal birth name or legal last name. That does not signify belonging by your logic"

Damian debated explaining his completed relationship with Richard and how Richard's acceptance of Damian was highlighted by allowing only the youngest to use his full name. Damian stared back with a deadly serious coldness in his eyes, "Brother"

Ella watched him for a few minutes and Tim and Jason looked back to Bruce. Their adoptive father was watching the interaction but had no intention of speaking up. He knew that if anyone were to bond with or get through to a child assassin it wouldn't be the Bat.

"That is not very original" is all she offered back.

A stiff internal war was raging inside Ella. She refused to break eye contact first and started down Damian sternly. Damian frowned but sneered and looked away, focusing on his father's face further down their cell. Ella turned to go, her back stiff and posture overcorrected, but she took her time. At the door, she looked back to Damian and he swore that her chin trembled for a second, "I never like being caught off guard….The League of Shadows is officially arriving to claim who they've bought in 3 weeks" She looked at Jason, "Black Mask is arriving, top side, the day after"

She glanced back at the monitor of Dick, who was slowly starting to stir, before leaving them all in peace.

Damian watched her go and couldn't help but feel shocked and slightly stunned. Was that her version of helping them? Giving them the worst timeline ever? He looked at Tim whose expression blatantly showed how bothered and worried he was. Damian was sure that a part of that concern was meant for Ella. Damian wondered if Tim would try and rescue Ella when they saved Richard.

"Fuck me" Jason muttered.

"Language" Bruce said

Jason's head snapped up as he looked at Bruce in outrage. Before he could get out a word Bruce spoke again, "It won't come to that. I'll make a deal with Ra's if I have to. Sionis isn't buying you Jason"

Bruce said this to Jason like he was scolding his second oldest for even humoring the idea. Jason hated that Bruce's condescending tone made him feel relief; slightly. He looked away and tried to control the sudden heat his cheeks seemed to be emitting. He hated Bruce sometimes. He looked around the cell and the monitor caught his attention. Tim and Damian saw his gaze cement and followed to look at the monitor. Dick had pulled himself up and to the nearest wall. He leaned back and let loose a deep sigh when he let the wall take the majority of his weight; supporting him stiffly. Dick looked down, letting his hair fall around his face, and twiddled his thumbs. He picked at the skin on his cuticles every now and then but when he started humming and mumbling to himself again, Jason forced himself to look away.

He didn't want to admit how elated he'd felt that Dick had a lapse in his disassociated stupor to look at him and really see him. He'd felt special for all of 3 seconds when Dick seemed to struggle to the surface. Then reality and William Cobb had caused everything to crash back down to earth. The next morning, Jason rotated and stretched his neck, working out the kinks that were slowly becoming the new norm for him. If he slept against the wall, his neck hurt. If he slept flat on the ground, his back hurt. There was no winning, but Jason knew he'd run Bruce bankrupt in massages as soon as they got out of there. Jason looked up at the monitor. It was frequent for him to check on Dick but not focus on him. Just enough to view their brother but also ignore his pain and isolation.

Jason froze….Dick was gone. He looked around to see everyone but Wilson was asleep. They made eye contact and Slade tilted his head in a mocking hello, "He's been gone allllll night. Finally got sent to the maze"

Jason narrowed his eyes, "You would know, wouldn't you? You shitstain. Probably still working with them right now. One big ploy to throw a wet towel over Dick's face"

Slade shrugged, "Believe me or not, I'd never humor anyone who is trying to exert their power over me. If I could leave, I would've slung your brother in a sack and left a while ago"

"Is that how you treat all your dates, Wilson?"

Slade smirked back, "Only the feisty ones"

Grey fiddled with the peeling skin on his thumb. It kept healing but it was strangely therapeutic when he pulled the extra skin pieces back again, revealing red skin and minimal blood. Between his legs, the pale skin flakes had begun forming a small sad pile. His dreams were coming back and they seemed to be following him into consciousness. He mentioned it to Lincoln and asked what was in the injection he'd been given more and more recently. Lincoln shut him down immediately, telling him that the injections were non-negotiable. He didn't like that. He'd been trying not to look to his right. His most recent visitor hadn't left his presence, even after he woke up. He could barely make out his knees and feet in his periphery, but he didn't have to look to know. He knew what the boy looked like. For some reason, he knew what all the boys looked like; what they smelled like too.

The youngest was here, pestering him. He had short dark brown hair, almost black. Sometimes he had a vigilante domino mask on and sometimes he wore his face bare. Grey was most bothered by his bare face, he didn't like looking into his eyes. He was about 15, maybe 16, and exuded an uncomfortable aura. It felt familiar and Grey was sure he knew the boy. He just wasn't sure if he really knew him or if he was in his dreams so frequently that he felt familiar. Grey chanced a peek to his left. Today the boy was bared-faced, and his dark green eyes were boring into him; unblinkingly. He didn't respond when Grey tried to talk to him. He always stood there and stared him down with blatant judgment and disgust. Grey had tried apologizing profusely but the boy just scowled and glared. The disgust and judgment felt familiar like he'd felt it like this before.

The boy's eyes were a darker shade of green and framed by long dark lashes. There was another boy who had glowing veridian green eyes and sometimes Grey confused them. This boy wasn't him though, this boy had dark green eyes, like pine or basil. At first, he liked the boy's presence. He usually stood behind the skinny boy and the tall strong guy while they berated him but recently his face had become more severe, like as he grew more, he'd begun to despise Grey more and more. He blamed him for something but he wasn't sure what. He wouldn't answer him so he was stuck with this small judgy teenager. Sometimes it got on his nerves and he lashed out. Sometimes he was able to keep his temper in check. It was difficult to ignore the boy or act indifferent when he felt like he knew him. He didn't know his name or his interests but he knew he hated to feel like he had disappointed the boy; like he had let him down just like everyone else had.

He hated this feeling so much that he couldn't stand it and sometimes tried to lash out. His fist would go right through the image, but it felt good to yell and swing at him. If he were to speak, he imagined the boy would scoff in disgust at him or go, "Tsk, this is dumb"

He looked like a Liam. Maybe a Daniel.

He was glad the others weren't here, he hated the 2 older men- the pirate and the Bat. He hated the conflicted feelings that were associated with them, and he hated that he didn't know why. Whenever they were there, the other 2 boys were there too. Grey was worried the tallest guy would punch him and it would hurt. He looked at the guy with luminescent glowing eyes and his cheek throbbed like he was feeling a phantom pain ring in his lower jaw.

He hissed when he pulled too large of a chunk of his nail and bit it to keep from pulling off a sizeable chunk. He spat the skin to the side and watched as a small deep red color bloomed from the corner of his thumb. He smeared it around until his thumb was a rust color and slightly sticky. He sighed and slumped back further. He didn't want to go to the maze but the waiting almost felt worse than just going to confront this mysterious place. When his grandfather spoke of it, he couldn't contain the shivers that wracked him, but now he couldn't stop trying to remember what it was. What did he do in there? What was done to him? He could only seem to remember neverending walls and a ridiculous amount of lefts. Maybe a fountain too but his mouth felt chalky just thinking about bending over the 3 tiered fountain and drinking from it.

He hoped Lincoln or Grandmaster would return. He knew he messed up and he was sorry. Grandmaster never accepted apologies. He was a 'don't apologize, just don't do it' kind of guy. He hated waiting, Lincoln told him he had ADHD and that seemed to check out. He remembered going to the doctor at some point with a tall man with dark hair. There was a blonde lady with iPad and they told him to take a pill to help with the fact that every time he wanted to do something but couldn't, his skin got tingly and his mind started to run laps in his head. It was like his skeleton didn't like waiting for him and was trying to make a run for it and leave his body behind.

Grey came to and realized something was wrong when he woke up on his front. He never slept on his stomach, he was always a side sleeper. A habit he picked up from…wait, where had he picked up that habit? From sleeping in close quarters with other much larger people? Maybe? Somewhere unconventional for sure.

He pushed himself up and wiped his face, wrinkling his nose at how much he'd drooled. He never drooled in his sleep unless he was given something very heavy.

He looked around, noting how he had apparently been sleeping in a hallway. Grey looked around warily. How had he gotten out of his room and fallen asleep in the hallway? Grey started forward, peering around for any discernable clues; there weren't even any doors. He came to the end of the hallway and turned left, only to turn down the exact same-looking hallway. Grey looked backward in bewilderment. He jogged forward, turned right, and stopped in his tracks. No. He ran a plan over the wall before spreading out more and feeling for the seam of a hidden doorway.

He turned around and made 3 lefts.

No.

He backtracked and made 2 rights.

No.

No No
Nonononononononono

His breath started to pick up and he didn't have the sense to control it. This couldn't be. He knew it was coming but to actually be here was totally different. He could feel the walls closing in on him. The walls and the hallways; even the floor all looked the same. The same greyish tan. The same uninterrupted lefts. The same perpetual rights.

He didn't know what to do. His instincts wanted him to keep running, maybe, just maybe he would find the exit. His brain was having a panic attack. He was remembering flashes and feelings against his will. Even his growing agitation seemed to be a ghost from the past. He knew his heart was pounding but he was having a hard time distinguishing his heartbeat from the blood pounding in his ears. Worry pooled in his gut, tenfold.

He had to get out, he had to. He'd go insane in here. It was worse than the white room. In there, he could move, he could plan and attempt things, but in the end, it was always fruitless. His futile efforts tired him out and gave him hope when there was none to be had. It was as simple as a friend telling you to trust them when you shouldn't. At least in the white room, he was alone and he knew it. There was no way out, nor was there any chance to attempt to leave. No potential to wonder if the exit was around the next corner. Nothing to raise your hope.

Gray started to feel lightheaded as he realized how fast his chest was heaving. His nape was damp with sweat and his lips were already chapped from his panting.

He looked around in dread. He was in the maze.