It was really kind of ironic that no matter how many walls he punched, no matter how many walls he climbed….there were always more. The walls were of different heights. Grey realized this when he attempted climbing one to find the exit from the top. He'd spent hours jabbing and digging hand and footholes into the wall only to make it to the top and not be able to see anything but a taller wall; too far to jump to. His headache was back, always throbbing right behind his eyes, like a drumbeat he couldn't seem to predict. Similar to the white room, the lights never turned off in there. He'd tried punching out a ceiling light but all he did was take a quick nap, via electrocution. When he woke up, that light was the only one broken, so they must have been separately connected to some kind of power source. Grey wondered if he could break through the ceiling completely and follow the lighting to its source. Maybe a generator near or outside the exit?
He was considering how best to do it without inducing another heart attack when he heard something behind him. He whipped around and almost stumbled when he caught sight of someone's backside. A quick glimpse of black and yellow?
Grey didn't wait to consider anything before dashing after the person. Their footsteps were light so he strained exceptionally hard to listen for them. He had a small heart attack every time he thought he lost them. He thought they were right in front of them by a few feet when he felt a presence behind him and turned to see the person run past him to their left. Grey felt light-headed from the switch-up but chased after them, doing his best to ignore how discombobulated he felt. It looked like a skinny young man with something yellow and black trailing after him.
Every time he got close enough to try and reach out to grab him, they'd reach a corner and he'd lose him again, only to find his sprinting past to his other side or behind him. It was infuriating and disorienting.
At some point in the chase, the hallway turned to open up into a large room. He had no idea how he knew this, but the first thought that came to mind was that the room was at least as big as Wayne Manor's ballroom. The boy in front of him sprinted straight ahead towards a fountain with 3 levels, each bigger than the one on top. The fountain startled him for a moment and he almost tripped over his own feet. The water source and such a large room were so out of place compared to the synonymous hallways he'd found himself stuck in so far. The boy was a little shorter than him with short dark hair. He couldn't see his face clearly but the boy ran around the fountain and disappeared behind the base. As he turned, Grey saw his profile and registered that he was wearing a red top with an R on his chest, resembling a superhero's costume. Where was this boy from?
Grey slowed slightly as confusion took hold. He was more confused about this kid, who never seemed to tire, than he was about finding this large room after an eternity of searching. He circled the fountain after the boy but suddenly found someone else in his place. There was a lean but muscled man in full body field armor and a complete cloth face mask waiting for him. Grey took a step back as he looked around warily for the boy he'd been chasing, "What's going on? Who are-"
The man suddenly lunged forward, sword in hand. Grey leaped back and barely missed the edge of the sword. It was long and thin like a katana but Grey wasn't sure what it was.
"Hey!" Grey exclaimed. Who was attacking him? He was almost certain he was in the maze, in the Court of Owls, but was he even still with the Court? What was going on? Was he dreaming or hallucinating?
Grey's stomach started doing flips. Did he hallucinate everything? The boy? His last memories with Lincoln? How would he know what was real? Was he in the maze? Was he running around his room like a fool? Was he fighting a man or a teen right now?
Grey didn't have time to properly consider it as the man lunged again. Grey was too slow and hissed as he felt the top of the blade jut into his right shoulder before he withdrew, backflipping until there was a safe distance between them. The man wouldn't stand for it and tried again. He slashed and jabbed until Grey found himself backed into a corner. The man spun and kicked out, throwing Grey's head to the side violently. He growled in pain and shock as his cheek and jaw reverberated with a hot sear of pain. He turned sharply to the man as he struggled to control his temper. He had no idea where he was truly or what was happening but fueling his attacks with anger instead of confusion made him feel much better than helplessness did. it seemed to fill the helpless hole of confusion inside him a little more than any other emotion he could squander up.
He snarled and kicked out, forcing the man back slightly. He flipped and jumped around the man, jabbing where he could. He threw himself at the man, anticipating that his opponent to catch his torso in the grip that he did. He kept his bodily momentum going and twirled his thighs and arms around the man until he was able to leverage his movement to wrench against the man's calves and weaker limbs; taking them both to the floor in a sudden roll. He kept to the man's back and sides to make sure his punches landed on softer organs like a kidney or even the spine. Grey lashed out but the man was already in the midst of a punch and snapped his fist at the inside of Grey's arm, snapping it back awkwardly. Grey gasped and staggered back as a tingle evolved into pain that exploded in his nerves and traveled up to his shoulder. He staggered back and gripped his arm to his side. He growled and spun, dropping at the last minute and kicking out lower. The man yelled out as his shin was splintered by the kick, fueling the raging fire in his bloodstream.
He dropped his sword and stumbled back and Grey launched into a frenzy. At some point, the man spat up blood and Grey froze at the sight, not realizing how long they'd been fighting. The man pulled a gun from a holster in his leg and pointed it at him. Grey almost froze but dropped at the last second, feeling the air above his forehead ruffle slightly from the near miss. He dropped and felt the abandoned sword on his right. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest or ears any minute. Everything was moving too quickly for him and he found that he was only aware of what he was doing as he was doing it. He let instinct take control and fluidly slid to his feet. He gripped the sword like it was an extension of his arm and slashed out before sliding away. He jabbed before leaping over the man. He parried and followed with a slash; he feinted and hacked down. He wasn't aware of how deep his attacks were cutting or how loud the man's howls were. The more he succeeded the quicker he was able to move and with every hit a deep baritone voice seemed to ignite his inner fire more and more. He'd lunged for the man's legs and the deep rumbling voice would suggest to attack when his opponent was in the middle of a turn. He'd block a blow and the voice would remind him to relax his muscles; to not over tense just because he was preparing to counter the blow. Every time his instinct-riddled brain acknowledged a hit, his bones, and muscles urged him onto the next vital point.
The man collapsed and Grey didn't hesitate to jab down into the man. The man fell limp and Grey froze, watching as blood bubbled from the corner of his throat and mouth. His eyes were bloodshot with popped blood vessels and his fingers twitched before falling still. Grey stumbled back and dropped the knife, he'd only meant to pin the man. He didn't mean to kill him. He would come back wouldn't he?" His throat suddenly felt tight and acidic and he forced himself to swallow the rising bile. The severity of his attacker's bloody state hadn't registered to him until suddenly it was all he could seem to focus on.
The man never rose.
Grey looked him over as his brow knitted in concern and confusion. He'd sliced the man's throat but the exact location he'd slammed his sword down happened to sever the man's head from his spinal column. was that all it took to take down a talon? Was that why Grandmaster never let him kill another Court warrior unless by specific command? He wasn't sure why but he felt secondhand guilt gnaw at his insides like he knew someone would greatly dislike what he'd done. Lincoln most likely, he justified to himself. His brother-in-arms never liked it when he lost control.
Grey looked around, ready for punishment to befall him. He'd killed someone and he knew that was bad but he'd done it without being ordered to. Grandmaster didn't like it when he hurt people without his permission. Half of his water resistance training sessions had been after he forced a Court's servant to regenerate mid-spar.
There was no sound except for his panting and the fountain's trickling water. He gripped his chest and did his best to take deep breaths but anytime he forced his breathing to slow down, his lungs burned as if resisting his desire to regain his composure.
When nothing happened, he looked around again for the boy, hoping he hadn't imagined him, but he was nowhere in sight.
Grey turned to the fountain and kept the body in view in case the man rose. He was thirsty but something about the clear water in the fountain prompted him to stay away. Was the water poison? It couldn't be if he'd drunk from it in the past and lived to have pessimistic memories of it. Maybe he was supposed to ask permission. Grey turned sharply to the man. Uh oh, had he just killed the man who was in charge of the water fountain?
Grey chewed on his lower lip as he considered his next action. It would be best to stay here and wait for the man's comrades. It would be a painful punishment, most likely long, but it was the right thing to do.
Grey sighed and lowered himself to the floor. He leaned back against the fountain and waited.
No one came. He was hesitant to touch the man, much less search his body so that left him with no other option but to explore. He tried climbing walls again but was met with the same dead-end consequence. He considered exploring the hallways just outside the large room but fear held him back, what if the fountain room disappeared the moment he turned his back and stepped into the maze again?
Would he find the boy out there again?
He did his best to distract his mind by practicing his Katana and kendo positions with his non-dominant hand. He spent hours in different calisthenics holds, finding a familiar kind of gratification in the way certain muscles ached and strained. At some point, boredom and curiosity got the best of him and he wandered around the first couple of surrounding hallways. After a few minutes, he'd always rush back, relieved to find the fountain room still there. Strangely enough, the body was gone.
Grey had searched everywhere, convinced that they had fought somewhere else in the room but he could see every inch of the lit room and there was no body. Grey was beyond puzzled. Did the man get up and leave? Was someone here? Did they take the body? The man must've been a talon that could regenerate and rise after all. there was no way multiple people had come to remove the body behind his back. Either way, something had purposefully happened when he was distracted and Grey was baffled as to why he receiving the most bizarre punishment in the world.
He spent his days exploring the hallways and sleeping beside the fountain. He was getting thirsty and parched. His lips were cracked and peeling, but Grey didn't want to drink from the fountain. He wasn't sure what held him back but it felt as strong as any instinct.
He tried sleeping across the room from it to resist but it didn't help much. He bit and peeled the skin from his lips but hissed at the sharp sting and taste of pennies. He knew that relying on habitual self-destructive behavior wasn't healthy but peeling back skin to focus on the sharp tang of his own blood seemed to ground him in a sense. he wasn't sure if it was the sharp sudden pains or the taste, but the act grounded him and kept him from giving in unreliable desires; like drinking from a suspicious fountain. He stared at the fountain and considered sipping to see what the effects on him were. He reasoned that if he consumed the water in small amounts, his immune system would be able to counter and combat any poisons or sedation./p
No, he shook his head and turned away. He'd torn his shirt into strips and left them as breadcrumb trails to safely take him deeper and deeper into the maze.
He always carried the sword, even though he hadn't found anyone else. It comforted him not only to have a weapon but also in a base materialistic way. He wasn't sure where he was or what was going on but he knew he was barren and vulnerable and had nothing. To have his clothes and a sword made him feel a tad less open and bare to whatever he was facing. He distracted himself by gripping the sound in strange places and attempting to spin the blade on the butt of its grip for fun. He never succeeded past a few seconds but the fun brain cell-killing act brought a small grin to his face, reminding him of another time he'd tried to pin the strangest objects on the top of his fingers. The memory almost felt competitive. He wasn't certain and tried to disregard the feeling as he already had enough unanswered questions plaguing him.
Grey glared at the water. He'd wrung out his voice yelling for someone days before. No one answered him no matter how profusely he apologized and repented. The lights were always on so he wasn't sure how long he'd been here but it was becoming easier and easier to sleep to pass the time. Internal bone-deep weariness was becoming more normal for him and his mind.
The more he slept the more it felt like greater time had passed. The more days he assumed he'd been down here the more he stared at the water. He wasn't sure if he wanted it or needed it, but it was a serious desire. Always burning in the back of his thoughts and nipping at his proverbial heels.
Sleeping didn't improve his mood either. He hadn't eaten and he was forever sore, his muscles felt like cheap play-do that had been grafted around his fractured bone structure by a toddler. He was grouchy and jumpy. He was confused and felt belittled by whoever was watching him stumble around lost. He was angry and helpless; he was so, so tired.
He sat on the edge of the fountain and played with the water. He liked the feeling of twirling his fingers through the water and watching the droplets dribble off his fingertips. He liked the calming sensation and the slight resistance that the water gave his hand when he dragged his palm through the bottom tier. He sighed and tried to hold in the wetness building behind his eyes. He was always tired and thirsty…and hungry. He refused to re-enter the maze but he hadn't found anything worth staying for in the larger room; except maybe the water.
Suddenly light footsteps to his left jerked him out of his morose musings. He looked over to his right to see a young boy in a red hoodie and short black hair run just out of view behind the fountain. He stumbled to his feet and circled around the fountain to see the boy. He looked about 13, maybe 14. His eyes were a bright attentive veridian green, but his lips were thinned like he was sizing you up. His small shoulders were hunched and his jacket was filthy.
The closer he looked at the boy, the more he felt like something was missing in his hair. Maybe the hair color was wrong? The wrong style? Grey wasn't even sure where the feeling came from.
The boy slid his hands into his front pocket and sized him up. His small eyes squinting up at Grey like he had just made a claim too bold to uphold.
"Wha-" A splashing sound behind Grey had him whipping around to find the fountain untouched. He quickly turned back around and caught his breath when he realized the boy was gone, "Hello? Are you there?"
He turned around in a continuous circle but there was no sign of the boy. Grey couldn't help threading his fingers into his greasy hair, some strands pulling slightly. He was losing it. He was hallucinating little black-haired children with bright eyes, "Hello?" his voice cracked up an octave in his desperation to have anyone answer him.
His chest was tight and his head felt like it was filling with air until it could easily float away. He rubbed his eyes furiously and tried to control his breathing. Was there something in the air here? Maybe the water wasn't the dangerous aspect of this room, "I-I know you're there! I won't hurt you"
He couldn't help his gaze from drifting to the trickling water, "Hello?"
He'd been staring down at his cupped hands for a while now. Long enough for his elbows and forearms to start to ache. The water would slowly drain out of his hands and he'd cup more only to doubtfully watch it trickle between his fingers again. The water drained just slow enough to give him an agonizing amount of time to be tempted by a small sip. He was so thirsty. His lips were bleeding and chapped. He couldn't even lick them anymore to help in the slightest. His chin quivered before he clenched his jaw to keep his tremors contained. He felt foolish but so helpless. He knew he hadn't eaten and seemed fine but the water's lull and constant trickle pulled him in like a physical string attached to his main artery.
He not only wanted to, but he knew at some point he'd have to try the water. It was so hard to remind himself why he was resiting. The motivation and self-sufficient effort just weren't there anymore. He felt like the textbook definition of depleted. At times it felt like the world didn't even exist outside of the fountain room. it was just him and a single fountain, sometimes hallucinations; but just him.
He closed his eyes and brought the water to his mouth. For a second he just held his lips in the water; just letting them soak in the moisture and whatever else his body needed. His lips stung tremendously but he forced himself to keep them here until the water in his palms was stained pink.
He dropped the water and cupped more, watching morbidly as the blood-tinged water fell into the pool and contaminated the rest of the bool like watered-down ink. He repeated this time and time again, and at some point, he started letting the water trickle in and seep into the corners of his mouth. His tongue felt swollen and heavy but the water was like a consumable version of an orgasm. It felt so good and light in his mouth he couldn't contain the small sounds that squirmed out of his throat. Before long he was taking large handfuls of water and swallowing as fast as he could. He completely disregarded his initial plan to sip the water and determine if there was anything to be cautious of. The feeling of his stomach feeling fuller seemed to give him more energy to keep drinking. This quickly led to his stomach flipping horribly but he couldn't find it in himself to regret the water. It felt too good, tasted too good. Most water didn't have a taste, but this water had a subtle sweetness that just added to his eagerness to consume. His taste buds felt euphoric and he was content to spend the rest of his existence gulping down the sweet water.
Soon after he found himself collapsed against the base of the fountain, nursing another migraine. He gritted his teeth as his eyes and head thumped on every offbeat of his heartbeat. He massaged his temples and tried not to clench his jaw as that just made it worse. He was back to feeling miserable. Was it truly the water? Had his stomach shrunk and that much water had overhydrated him? he felt pathetic but couldn't care less at the moment.
One would think that too much water and hydration wasn't a thing but he had a blurry recollection of trying to prove it to someone close to him. They'd looked it up and proven that you could drown your insides with too much H2o. Or maybe it was the friend that was trying to prove it to him?
All he could remember was the outcome and a remembrance of overlay large monitors and a dark wide open area. Grey dismissed his musings, it had to be the lights. Just like in that horrid all-white room. The lights drove him crazy. They didn't let him sleep, didn't let him think. Worsened his tendency for headaches and increased his state of vulnerability. It always felt like there were people or beings above the lights and they were using their fluorescent beams to shine down on him and….judge him? Watch him fail? He wasn't sure. It would be just his luck that there were some gods or metas looking down on him. Why else would his life be this chaotic and malevolent? The only constant was his confusion and instability. Lincoln was always nice but he had an emotional bond with his fellow talon over something he couldn't even remember or recall well. His grandfather was his Grandmaster before he was his true blood and kin. He'd always been told his life was the Corurt's, that he was an extension of the Court and to have a good life would mean extending his usefulness as much as possible. He knew this, he felt it, he believed it. But sometimes, it was hard to smother the doubt, the hesitance in truly feeling those statements.
The headache continued to worsen. Sometimes the pain came in pounding waves and sometimes it stayed consistent, always throbbing behind his eyes.
At some point, he found himself leaning back against the fountain's base when movement caught his attention. He scrambled to his feet, sword already in hand when he caught sight of a boy again. Grey watched him in confusion. He'd been expecting another attacker but for the kid to show up suddenly and just watch him? Grey wasn't sure what his next move should be.
He'd tried speaking to the boys but unlike the older dark-haired brothers of his dreams, these boys never spoke back; never berated and admonished him. Were these boys connected to those older teens he often dreamed of? They looked similar enough. All dark-haired, with varying shades of sea green and ocean blue eyes. This one had a much darker complexion; like an olive skin tone; whereas the other 2 were much more normative of American caucasian skin tones. Although one boy was fairer than the taller one, like he didn't get a lot of sun exposure.
He was almost certain he'd met the teens before, why else would he dream of them and their cruel words? He must've met the Bat and that pirate before as well. Did he also meet these children before?
Grey took a hesitant step forward but the boy dashed away at the movement. His dark hair was spiked and he had on a small domino mask, covering the bridge of his nose and eyes. His skin was much darker than Grey's but he dressed like the first boy. He had on a dark material top with a yellow R over his heart. A short black cape with a green underbelly flapped in quick snaps behind him as he ran off. Grey was quick to catch up with him but found he was somehow slightly behind due to the continuous lefts and rights of the maze.
The maze…..
Grey wheeled to a stop, watching as the boy quickly left him in the dust.
He felt his chest tightening and heating with panic as he turned and backpeddled as quickly as he could. He'd never left the main room and got this far into the maze; after finding the fountain at least. His instincts screamed at him that abandoning the water and the wide open space was a bad idea. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he turned a corner and spied the fountain again. His heartbeat started to slow in a stutter as he came to a trot in the room, his brain realizing he was safe to some degree. He scowled and looked down at the sword still gripped in his bare hand. Were these boys being sent by whoever sent the attackers? Why could he never catch a boy? Why wouldn't anyone talk to him? In some ways, he was starting to feel just as unsure as he did in the white room. The constant self-depreciation and severe doubt never left his mind. At least he saw people here; even if they wouldn't respond to him. In the white room, he was stuck with nothing but his own crude and depressed mind. Grey scowled, unsure of even that statement, for all he knew the attackers and strange boys were hallucinations too. He had to find a way out or find a way to draw people in so he could get a real answer.
He squinted and slapped a hand over his temple as a new round of pain radiated across his eyes and started to drum a new tempo of headache. Later, he acquiesced. Later he would make a game plan and then…
He frowned at the ground as he walked, dragging his sword behind lamely. His headache was morphing into a migraine and that pain was starting to blur his vision. With every blink, his vision came back slightly slower and less clear.
Then what? Was he making a plan to talk to someone or was it under orders from Grandmaster?
He turned back around to stare at the maze entrance. He'd lost his train of thought but couldn't even recall what the topic was?
He knew he had to make a plan but now he had to remember what the plan was even for….
He'd do both after some sleep. He meant to lower himself down onto his knees and then his side but after a few blinks he realized he was face down against the floor. He grunted as best he could to shift his head so he wasn't breathing in dirt and concrete rubble. He hissed as a flash of pain from his headache seared up his neck. He dropped his shoulders and neck down, out of energy and motivation to think or move at this point. His shoulder throbbed in a raw sort of way and he frowned, wondering if his shoulder had been injured recently. His eyes roamed around the room and rested on the 3 tiered fountain.
He was thirsty he realized. He blinked and realized that he wasn't even looking at the fountain clearly. He furrowed his brow and blinked again and again. At some point, he forgot to blink again and let the darkness drag him under.
Grey opened his eyes and licked his chapped lips. Internally cringing at the feel of peeling skin and dried blood. It wasn't as bad as it had been now that he'd been drinking water but-
Suddenly every alarm bell shrieked in his mind as he heard the faintest woosh.
His nerves lit up and Grey rolled to the left as a sword came down where his torso had been. His breathing picked up and he scrambled to reorient himself and find his attacker. His muscles tensed in preparation but he heard a deep baritone voice in the far reaches of his mind remind him to never tense muscles that he didn't want sprained or pulled. He furrowed his brow and tried to focus on that thought or memory. The deep velvet voice said, "Don't tense your body too early or too much. You'd regret it later. Besides, little bird, your fighting style relies on your fluidity and flexibility, not sturdiness"
He was thrown out of his thoughts as his attacker lashed out.
He was almost caught off guard but fell into an easy back bend. The attacker advanced as he fell backward but Grey kept the momentum going, bringing his legs up into a full handstand and kicking his opponent in the chin. He finished the flip and backed away, "Who are you?!"
No response.
"Are you from the Court?"
The masked man advanced on him.
"You can't attack me without direct orders from Grandmaster…I-I am the Grey Son. I'm Talon!"
It felt strange on his lips to acknowledge his title as a tool to be lorded over others. Like he was rushing through sentences in another language.
The man dove for Grey and Grey avoided him seamlessly. He couldn't shackle the worry and doubt as he did his best to fend off attacks and hits. Eventually, bruises and cuts started to appear as he relied on defense too harshly. He hissed and narrowed his eyes as the man got in a good swipe across his color bone. He felt a harsh sharp sting as the wound started to heal quickly.
"Stop!"
His opponent chucked a small hand knife out of nowhere and Grey was forced to dive down to avoid the projectile. He caught himself in a summersault and irritation spiked at his new attacker's aggressiveness.
"Didn't your mom ever teach you no-"
He was cut short as the man scored his arm roughly. Grey yelled out as fire ripped up his forearm and shoulder. He knew the man was above him but he couldn't seem to slow his mind or body down. He felt himself roll to the side; almost like an alligator and jump to his feet. He snarled as the man continued to close the distance between them. His body felt overwhelmingly hot and a deep buzzing had started in his ears, like someone was playing a recording of distant bees but had turned up the volume. He took a deep breath and held his arm slightly apart and away from his torso so as not to get the slipper-sticky blood all over himself. He knew that it would only cause his grip and stance to become unreliable if he got blood everywhere. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the man, looking for any slips or obviously unpadded portions of his body
For a split second he gazed at the man's sword and saw that the first 4 inches of the blade's tip was smeared with a deep pink. No, light red?
Blood red…His blood.
Indignation filled out his bones and pumped his blood twice as fast. Grey bared his teeth and held the man's gaze in his own. He was so focused on his opponent and his sword that he didn't notice his headache diminishing, very quickly. Without considering his options, he leaped for the man and tackled him, rolling both of them to the floor. Grey kept rolling them until the man had dropped his sword and was under him, and then straddled him and pulled back a fist. The man reacted quickly and pulled his torso up to headbut Grey. He howled as he felt his nose smash inward. He fell back and gripped the man's waist with his thighs, bringing his body up and over his own head. The man flew a few feet and rolled to a stop before scrambling to his feet. Grey picked up his own sword and launched it at the man as a spinning arrow. It sunk into the man's chest, but Grey didn't allow the man much time. He advanced on his as quickly as he could and swept his legs out from under him, hearing a gratifying crunch as the back of his head hit the floor. The man tried to grab the sword but Grey struck him across the face, feeling saliva and blood coat his knuckles. He flipped the man over before he could react and reached for the 2 inches of his sword protruding from the man's back.
There was about a 2-second window where a small voice in Grey's head asked him to stop. The man was down, he didn't have to continue. The voice was deep but spoke faintly and distantly and Grey didn't spare it a moment past that. He gripped the tip of the blade in his bare fist and yanked towards himself. The curvature of the base of his fingers and his palm instantly lit up with agony and fire as the blade cut into his hand.
The blunt barrier of the sword's handle and grip hit the man's chest but Gray snarled in anger, letting his wrath fuel his actions. How dare this man attack him and not expect to perish? No one attacked him, he refused to feel weak any longer. He gripped the sword with both hands, feeling lightheaded at the sharp searing pain that radiated from his hands and forearms. He yanked with a shout and stumbled back as the entire sword, blade and handle, broke through the man's back. He dropped the sword as he fought to catch his breath, distantly he knew that the wetness and heat over his body was foreign blood, but he was distracted by the aching stretched feeling smothering his face. He slowly reached up and felt along his jaw before finding his own grin to be the source of his pain. His own smarting lips had cracked and shed his own blood now.
The adrenaline and exhilaration that his actions brought him were like the very end of a roller coaster, just before you got off but recent enough to rationalize the joy and fun of the ride itself. His body was hot, overheating actually. He frowned for a second as he took stock of himself, but the thought quickly vanished as he caught sight of the body again. Pride overtook his doubt and self-concern as he re-cemented the utter dominance he'd felt in killing the man.
He knew he didn't have to, he did. But he wasn't sure why that was such a significant thought that kept coming to the forefront of his mind. What did it matter that he knew it was a choice and he'd chosen the more violent one? It was also the most successful one. Was he feeling doubtful? It couldn't be guilt. he'd defended himself from a stranger who attacked first. He smiled haughtily to himself, he was the Grey Son, Talon. Grandmaster had trained him. He was Lincoln's successor. He was the Court's ultimate weapon. Lincolna and Grandmaster had even told him one time that he survived an important procedure and was the first natural talon. He'd never really been able to figure out what that meant because all of his brothers and sisters had to be natural, it's not like they were all cyborgs….Cyborg….He furrowed his brow at that name.
Was it a name? It felt familiar. The thought felt difficult to track down so he let the focal point of his confusion float away. He was tired of being confused. He was sick of being weak and unsure and doubtful.
The buzzing in his ears was fading and he distantly realized that his heartbeat was also beating in his ears. The heat of his body and the strain of his muscles made him yearn for something. He turned towards the fountain. Water. He wanted more water.
Before he could make his way over, a sound caught his attention. A gurgle. Something wet.
He whipped back around towards the man on the floor. He was alive?
Grey was stunned. Was he a talon? How did he come back? Was that kind of intestinal damage something Grey could overcome? He wasn't sure how much destruction he himself could take before his body and soul gave out.
Scratch that, his soul belonged to the Court, his soul could keep going until they allowed him to relent. The man's hand moved barely to the left and a sudden fire ignited in Grey. How dare this man attack him and have the nerve not to die! He made Grey look like a fool, a failure for not killing him properly. It made him look like he didn't know how to wield his power and follow through. Before he realized it, his feet had carried him over to the downed man. Indistinctly, he knew he was looking down on his bloody opponent. The subdued voice in the back of his head was warning him that the man was barely alive, much less conscious. That same voice had a deep warm tenor voice; a distinct tonality to the point where he remembered the fluctuation of the voice when it said 'chum', or 'don't', or even sighed. The man spat up blood so dark, it was almost black. The sudden movement jerked his attention back to his victim and his anger re-ignited. Within the span of a few seconds, his sword arm swung down and the voice disappeared like a blonde hair in the sky.
"Good" Cobb commented coldly. He and Lincoln were stationed in an above-facility observation room. Lincoln had orders to never leave the monitoring station. This ensured that Cobb always had accurate reports when he returned back for visits, and it made sure that Grayson had reliable monitoring.
Lincoln glanced at him from where he stood at attention but did not respond.
"Make sure you don't break it" a crisp woman's voice snapped from over speaker phone. Cobb glanced down at the phone disdainfully. Lydia, a fellow court member was watching the broadcasted feed of the Grey Son's maze experience from abroad. While she was a native Gothamite, she was based primarily out of Western Europe for her extended business collaborations and consultations. Much of the Board worked abroad and returned to Gotham occasionally. Only a few select members were native to the ancient city, all Owls relied on the stability and profitability of the city.
"Do not trouble yourself over such inconsequential matters" Cobb replied, "He is the Grey Son, he's sturdy"
Lydia sniffed in disagreement from across the line, "Don't get ahead of yourself, William-"
"Yes, yes my dear. I hear you. Now I really must be going, I have a handful of other projects to ensure to completion before our board meeting. 2 months goes by like that" Cobb snapped his fingers sharply.
Without waiting for a reply, Cobb hung up the phone and slid it into his inner chest pocket. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in mild irritation. He looked back to the Grey Son in time to see him stumble. His sword was already on the ground and most of his cuts and bruises were in the process of fading.
"Is he still reacting poorly to the fountain?" he asked the room.
Lincoln and a doctor against the wall exchanged a quick glance before the doctor stepped forward, "We aren't able to get readings more accurate than an 89% base level but our best guess summation is that he is adapting to the water dosage well enough. Due to the chemical compounds responding to his adrenaline as a sort of biological trigger, his body isn't rejecting his consumption of the water…"
"But?"
"But, "The doctor continued, "It is still an adjustment; nonetheless, his body and mind are slowly losing resistance to the multitude of ingredients but due to his above-average intake of water, he is pushing his body to the limits without realizing"
As if on queue with the doctor's mild diagnosis, the Grey Son collapsed several feet from his victim. Cobb watched the boy struggle to breathe as he fell into an uneasy unconsciousness. He seemed to be finding a pattern between his headaches subsiding and the water from the fountain; Cobb was pleased.
"As long as this does not damage him in the long run, I want it continued."
"Noted sir, his emotional triggers are much easier to unveil when he is under suggestion but I would caution against increasing anything further than what has been established as his safe baseline. I know he can heal well but as far as we know that only includes his neural pathways, not his mental stability or landscape. "
Cobb nodded coldly, "We vet warriors in this maze doctor, not soft souls, I want to know what I'm seeing, Dr. Amanik"
The doctor glanced at Lincoln with an unsure expression. Lincoln stared back dispassionately. He had nothing against the doctor but he wouldn't provide any support and aid to the medical team that was experimentally testing and drugging Grey every other day.
"Sir, wh-"
"I find that I'm partial to his outbursts and shows of strength but I want to know his triggers. What is his mind showing him that has him sprinting down that maze and in anger but has him coming back fearful"
The doctor nodded in understanding, "He does seem to be vividly hallucinating and these hallucinations are driving a number of aggressive reactions to the talons you send in there"
Cobb's chin twitched as he fought to correct the doctor over his incorrect terminology. The only Talon in there was the Grey Son.
"I want results, Doctor. You have until I return to make some progress on what is going through that boy's thick skull"
"Sir, I can't offer anything conclusive until we can get him sedated and in for a CAT scan. My guess is that it could be anyone from his past. We are mixing very strenuous heavy drugs with very inconsistent timing between dosages, it could be some of his um-training sessions or it could be one of the Bats he lived with"
Cobb's eyes roamed over the Doctor like he was a cockroach that had grabbed his clean pant leg, "Give it your best guess….doctor"
He looked to Lincoln, "You can let him out when you've seen some good progression"
Lincoln nodded understanding that Cobb had left the final decision up to him. He'd be able to judge and decide how far to push their talon before giving him a reprieve.
His ears started to work first. When all he heard were the buzzing of overheard lights, he couldn't help but open his eyes. He blinked his eyes open and immediately slammed them shut. Right. The maze. He'd forgotten he was stuck in the brightly lit, never-ending hallway with nothing but sweet water. He stared up at the circling, focusing on a section between 2 lights. When was the last time he'd eaten? Had he been here a week? A few days? In 1 fell swoop, yesterday's actions came rushing back to him. His eyes bulged and he scrambled to his feet and looked to the right where there….was nobody?
He looked to his other side and found the same barren cement floor. Confusion swelled in his head as he spun around. He wasn't crazy, he knew he wasn't….then where were the men he knew attacked him? There weren't even blood stains and he'd taken out a sizeable chunk of the center of his attacker's torso. Just to make sure all bases were covered he circled the fountain and scanned the far end of the large room. A combination of terror and concern for his own mental stability swelled internally. He ran a hand through his hair, cringing at the greasy feeling that coated his fingers. He was either crazy and imagining an entire fight or someone was coming in when he slept and removing a body and blood stains?
He wasn't sure which theory sounded more bizarre. He hoped that someone wasn't playing him for a fool and leaving him in there but he also desperately hoped that he wasn't actually crazy and mentally unstable. The next few days had him replaying this episode over and over again. Every day he'd find a new attacker waiting for him. Every day the attacker refused to speak to him. And every day that attacker refused to lay down and die easily. Some days he was more centered and of sound mind, rationalizing that he was confused but just being kept in the dark about something. Other days he couldn't stop pacing and refused to sleep in an effort to find out what happened to the bodies. He always fell asleep beside the body, only to wake up alone. Stress was mounting on his shoulders and always heavily weighing down his mind. He wasn't sure what was happening to him. He couldn't sleep soundly anymore and his headaches were increasing in their frequency. The only thing for him to do besides sword-wielding practice was to drink water. He'd long ago picked a pee corner and he would safely consider it a biohazard at this rate, as his bladder had been put through the ringer.
He felt like time was slipping through his fingers like the fine sand at an expensive beach resort. He also wasn't sure how he was familiar enough with a high-end beach to properly make that comparison, which added to the madness he was feeling each day. He felt weak and hollow, like all the natural sturdiness and reliability that came with his strength and status as an above-average court member had disappeared at disproportionate rates overnight. He hated the feeling but was slowly becoming more terrified over the fact that he couldn't seem to reel in his emotions and panic. He was loosening himself and there was no one for him to turn to. Where was Lincoln? Where was Grandmaster?
Was this a test? One drawn-out punishment?
He pounded his palm on his forehead in an effort to force forward a memory to help him make sense of it all. Maybe he'd acted up recently and this was a deserved punishment on behalf of Grandmaster.
For days this continued; to a point where he wasn't sure what was up and was down. The fire burning through his head had become second nature and he stopped trying to tell the difference between reality and hallucinations. He was desperate for human contact and he was assured of this need when he killed, drank, and slept. In the far corners of his mind, he knew that it wasn't healthy and he had to start getting some answers to find a way out. Thinking beyond the same pattern of thoughts and expectations he'd come to know was becoming difficult. It felt out of place not to have a deep pounding resonating from his skull and his perception of each day had become more and more narrow.
Names and faces came as quickly as they went. Those brothers were always there and he started trying to give them names. Sometimes he would smile at Richard or glare back at Mason. He was still deciding if the youngest was better suited for Bart. At times, the pirate would stand in the corner; watching. He was an enormous man with arms and thighs the size of tree trunks. His goatee was sharply cut and his hair was short but not shaven, like someone from the military who was letting their standard cut grow out some. He had a feeling the pirate wouldn't like being called a pirate. They rarely spoke but he thought the name Kane or Wilson suited him. He always felt unsure and unsteady around the man, but couldn't deny that his smiles of approval or faint upticks of amusement speared his chest with glee.
He wondered if he'd get similar reactions from his hallucinations when he finally withered and died.
The first thing he saw was the bright light above him. He'd been engulfed and surrounded by so much penetrating fluorescent light that it almost didn't burn his retinas anymore. In fact, the more he stared at this one, the more he realized the shade was different. He'd gotten accustomed to bright white flights in the fountain room, but this one gave off a more yellow glow.
Wait….
This was a different light. He surged up and frantically tried to spin around. Intense vertigo overcame him as he lost his balance and he realized he was on a metal surface- a medical examination table. He scanned the room, realizing he'd been here before; he usually left feeling fuzzy or drunk. He craned his neck around to peer at the tools and trays lining the far wall. Everything was straight, orderly, and shined like polished silver. As he was scrutinizing the scalpels, needles, and trays the door directly in front of him opened. Grandmaster entered in a warm brown suit, and Grey Son couldn't help but notice that his shoes shined almost as much as the scalpel blades. He wasn't sure if it was the presence of someone familiar or if it was his Grandfather's particular embodiment, but he couldn't help the way his muscles stiffened and straightened. Seeing the older man again brought on a whirlwind of emotions too fast to be contained behind a stony-faced facade. Grey Son felt his lips and chin tremble in a combination of relief, fear, and exhaustion. His emotions were compounding and battling and his mind could only take so much after his reality had proved unreliable.
Grandmaster's presence meant punishment and reprimands almost half the time, but his relief at seeing a reliable authority figure once again overwhelmed his senses. He felt like a child who had disobeyed and run off from their parent in the grocery store, only to find that they couldn't handle being lost on their own. His breathing was picking up and he couldn't seem to control it which worried him more and caused his reactions to increase. He was stuck in a loop. Was he hyperventilating?
Grandmaster quickly paced towards him with an unreadable expression, but Grey Son couldn't seem to look away. He knew he wasn't blinking but he refused to look away for even a second in fear that his next blink would find himself back in the maze with mutilated bodies that went missing and delicious water that hurt his head. He tried to speak, to say something; anything. He opened his mouth but his voice refused to cooperate. Grandmaster smiled demurely as he stopped within arms reach, and all Grey could do was stare back with wide eyes. Grandmaster reached out and curled one hand around the corner of his jaw and ran the pad of his thumb over his cheekbones, softly.
Grey stuttered and hummed as warmth from the soft gentle action resonated in his soul. His eyes grew lidded and heavy as he relished in the large warm hand. It was so rare that he felt genuine comfort. Lincoln told him one time that if he was a civilian, he would've been a hugger at family reunions. That reminded him of a taller dark-haired boy with bright green eyes saying the same thing. Or was it a shorter dark-skinned boy who scoffed at hugs and affection? the back of his eyes burned with the effort not to let any wetness fall.
"How are you feeling my boy?"
The question startled Grey Son back into reality as he gazed up at his grandfather and master. He opened his mouth and then realized he wasn't sure.
"Better?" he rasped. It was close enough to how he was feeling.
His desperate mind was still frantically trying to reason why he had been left in that awful maze so before he could reason with himself, he blurted out, "I'm sorry!"
Something flashed in Grandmaster's eyes, "Sorry?"
He licked his lips and tried to explain a few times before he finally found the words and forced them out, roughly, "For-Because I was in there I-"
"You think the maze was a punishment for something, yes?"
He nodded wildly. Grandmaster smiled at him, "My boy, you are mistaken. That was not a punishment, it was an initiation of sorts"
He saw the confusion plastered on Grey Son's face and continued, "All talons must survive a certain amount of time in the maze and exit with their….faculties intact"
"I-I passed?" His faculties felt like fucking shit.
"You did, my boy. Most of our warriors find their weakness in there, whether it be from starvation, injuries…isolation"
He looked pointedly at Grey Son and he cringed, averting his eyes in shame. He must have looked pathetic to the older man. Pining after people that weren't there in a desperate attempt for human contact and re-assurance.
"If our talon does not perish from the challenges presented to them, they are deemed worthy of the title. While you are not yet ready for missions or excursions, think of it as another stepping stone in your quest to fulfill the role of Talon"
Grey Son nodded, his wide eyes fixed solely on the primmed older man.
"I know what you saw in there, Grey Son"
He froze, too fearful to meet his grandfather's gaze.
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, dear boy. I had Dr. Amanik take a look into what you were experiencing with a few tests while you slept. You saw the Batman and his sorry lackeys didn't you?"
Grey slowly looked up to the older man. He was unsure. He knew he'd seen the tall dark man and the mean brothers. Sometimes even the pirate was there, but he didn't know anything concrete about them.
"The dark man….that's the Batman?"
Grandmaster hesitated as if considering something about Grey before answering, "Yes, he is around your height and escapades as a dark bat"
"And-and the boys"
"Yes. Those scoundrels are his sons. A pathetic lot, but you've come across them before. In the field, with Lincoln."
Grey Son nodded more and more as Grandmaster laid out the scene for him. He told him their vigilante names and how they lived by wild chaotic morals and standards. Now that it was being described, he did remember running into the Redhood and his drug-pushing gang. He remembered RedRobin and Robin, both were too small and weak to fight him well. The Batman was strong and resourceful, he was a powerful foe to face in the field.
Grandmaster smiled smugly as Grey Son admitted to remembering as Grandmaster explained more, "Do you remember how they treated you? The dishonor and disrespect they threw at you as easily as trash"
Grey Son furrowed his brow as he remembered all their mean hateful words and scolding tones. The youngest was the more judgmental and the tallest brother was the meanest. The Batman was disappointed in him most of the time and that hurt more than anything for some reason. It made him angry and spiteful and confused, and he hated not being able to control the negative emotions that heated his stomach and chest.
"The maze was more than an initiation Grey Son. It was a lesson to be learned. You cannot trust or rely on the Batman and his brood. They are spineless and come from lowlife filth"
The anger was quickly giving way to tears of frustration and pain as his exudation caught up with him, "I never did anything to them!" he stressed to Grandmaster.
Grandmaster nodded with a grim expression, "It is merely their way. They take from you and hurt you and when you are at your lowest, they ask for what you cannot give"
Grey Son blinked back tears as he waited for Grandmaster to expand. His vision was blurry and his cheeks felt hot and sticky. The older man's words rang true inside him. He distinctly remembered not being good enough for the Bat, and being judged by his sons.
"They demand your love, your loyalty, Grey Son. They demand what you cannot give and which they have no right to. They are a prime example of how and why you cannot trust anyone outside of the Court. We are your family and the only ones to ever truly support you"
Emotional pain and whiplash speared his chest as he hiccuped past the tears. They wouldn't stop coming and he wasn't sure why. It felt like a father was disowning him, the pain was so sharp and brutal.
"I'm sorry!" he whispered brokenly, shaking his head. He wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for. Maybe to the Bat, maybe to Grandmaster and the Court. He just wanted to feel peace. He wanted the love and support Grandmaster spoke so freely of.
Grandmaster tsked softly and dragged him thrumb across his cheeks again, smearing his tears, "Do your best to leave these thoughts behind, You are in need of rest and recuperation. All will be well soon, my boy. You have passed a significant test and can return to your exercises and socialize with Lincoln once more"
That caught Grey Son's attention, "I-I can?" he asked hopefully. His nose was clogged and his vision hadn't improved, but he was desperate for Grandmaster's hand to stay where it was, rubbing calming circles across his cheek.
The older man nodded, "Indeed, my boy" Grandmaster went to pull away, "Now, I will return short-"
He was cut short as Grey Son snapped out a hand and griped Grandmaster's wrist tightly, "Please" the younger boy gasped out. He realized he had touched Grandmaster without permission and dropped the limb like his pores had started to expel lava.
He stuttered, not sure if he should explain himself or voice his apologies first, "I-I-I'm"
Grandmaster smoothed away his stutters and knelt before him, "It is alright, child. You may speak. You have prevailed through a difficult time indeed"
Grey Son felt the tears behind his eyes well up faster over the kind words spoken in an even kinder tone, "I-Ple-Can you stay? Grandmaster?"
Cobb smiled down on Grey Son as if he'd just been named President, "Of course, my child. I can stay until Lincoln returns"
He resumed stroking the boy's cheek while his other hand grabbed his hand and started to rub calming patterns and circles into the palm of his hand. Grey Son exhaled a wet breathy sigh as his body collapsed in on himself. Before he realized it, he was no longer looking at the wall and Grandmaster but at the ceiling and Grandmaster. When had he lain back down? He didn't have the motivation or energy to keep the thought longer than a few seconds. The rhythmic skin-on-skin contact was so tender and forgiving that he couldn't help relaxing like he was a pile of mush. He felt his bones decompressing and considered that he might be ok with it if his body decided to break down and decompose right now, only if it ensured that this feeling and peace would never leave him.
His eyes became heavy and he let loose a wide yawn. He blinked back the dried tears and the crusty sensation as Grandmaster leaned over him and ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, "Rest, my boy. You are alright have done well"
The approval and pride in Grandmaster's voice was the final straw for Grey Son. He felt his mind trying to shut down and didn't try fighting the urge. He barely remembered falling into oblivion, but he would never forget the tender benign look in his grandfather's eyes.
Cobb watched as the boy finally gave in to his exhaustion and his eyes fluttered close, hiding his bright canary irises behind long lashes. The boy's body slumped fully and Grandmaster stepped away and made his way for the exit, locking the boy into the private medical wing on the far side of the facility. Lincoln and Dr. Amanik were waiting outside with guards. Cobb waved them away and they backed up a few paces, standing guard outside the Grey Son's temporary residence. Cobb turned to the doctor, "I'm pleased with the results so far. We will obviously know more once he begins training again but the suggestive compounds seem to be working"
Dr. Amanik nodded while scribbling frantically on a notepad in his hands, "Sir, if you can. Please describe his mood. The CAT scan and other neurological standardizing tests don't do a very accurate job of depicting his hormonal or adrenaline levels and I can't get a good estimate myself until I conduct an evaluation with him"
"He was very agreeable and slightly drowsy. He was incredibly emotional and appears unstable right now. If you need more, attend an in-person interaction with Lincoln"
He turned to said talon, "I want you to tread lightly in how you interact with him. He is not-so-subtly attaching himself to your side and I do not want to him dependent to a fault. I want a weapon, not a velcro puppy"
Lincoln nodded once, firmly. Cobb dismissed the doctor and proceeded down the hallway. He'd have to make sure Lincoln didn't give in to any urges to coddle the Grey Son. He'd be damned if he let his grandson become as weak and emotionally crippled as he was with the Bat and his pests.