The all-encompassing darkness was fading little by little, day by day. He wasn't sure if it was his mentality and optimism getting better or if he was adjusting quicker than anticipated. There were more things he was unsure and unclear about than not but one thing he was sure about was that the less he thought about those things, the better he felt. So it became second nature for him to push the small doubts and the nagging feelings into the dark corners of his mind. The same corner that Batman and his brood lived in. The same corner that held shiny reds and different shades of ivy, veridian, and pine.

He was physically stronger than he'd ever been. No one stood a chance against him, and he found that dominating, in the midst of an adrenaline rush, was the highest high he could ever feel. He craved it more deeply than heroin, but he wasn't sure how he could make such a stark comparison.

That was another thing he shoved into the dark corner.

He found that his most difficult fights were the only times he grinned anymore. He knew he smiled and snarked because his cheeks were sore after, like when you decided to squat your max weight limit after a year away from the gym. Lincoln pointed out every time he smirked or grinned. He wasn't sure why, but knowing that he was doing it made it harder for him to maintain it. he knew it was strange to be self-conscious over a grin but the feelings that came with the action held such significance to him for reasons he couldn't decipher. Some days were good for his mental health and stability, and some days were not. On the bad days, he was aware enough to seek out opponents and extinguish the building anxiety and fire in his muscles. The prickly numbing sensation that, if it wasn't put out, would consume him until he was devoured by red and gold fires; and overtaken by a stagnant buzzing so loud he couldn't hear his own heartbeat.

Grandmaster insisted that he hone in on this raging fire pit. He said that what he was feeling, that uncontrollable urge to combust for eternity during a fight, was only the beginning of him tapping into his potential. It was connected to the electrum his body naturally produced apparently. Anything beyond the normal hormonal, adrenal, or neurological outputs of the standard male was received by his 'enhanced' immune system and intensified or countered by his electrum. Despite the opportunities being rare, every time he saw his reflection in the med. room or bathroom, his eyes were never what he expected to see. He always held a predisposed image of himself with dark hair, a slim build, and blue eyes, but the gleaming golden-eyed hulking shadow of a man was always the one staring back at him. His reflection intimidated him and he found it easier to avoid reflections and mirrors altogether; although it wasn't very hard to do so.

"ey"

Even though smiling hurt his face, internalizing his wrath and resentment made him feel better. He found himself becoming more and more eager to open himself to negative emotions or bitterness in an effort to feel that familiar hot thumping pulse resonate throughout his body again. The more he let his heart choose what he'd feel that day instead of his head the more he felt darker and deeply passionate emotions. It was so easy to fall head first into wrath than it was elation.

"ey!"

Indignation and ire felt much better on his tongue than any amount of happiness. Granted, there were times with Lincoln, or alone with Grandmaster, where his soul felt enough peace to quiet his mind. Those moments were nice and sought after, but too rare to rely upon. No, it was far easier and more satisfying to let his negative emotions and urges consume him. To let those dark feelings work their way up his muscles and burry into his veins and shoulders.

In retrospect, he wondered how he would cope as an old man who craved adrenaline rushes. Could he even grow old? His body could heal and regenerate whatever he lost or lacked but what did that mean in the grand scheme of things? Would he-

"Grey!"

Surprised flitted over his features as a sharp voice cut through his internal monologue. His eyes flashed upward in a daze as he realized that he'd been staring at the same dark blue mat for a while now. He blinked as he focused on Lincoln in front of him, feeling the effects of not blinking in the corners of his now dry eyes.

Lincoln's mouth was creased in irritation but once he saw he had Grey's genuine attention his face softened. Lincoln's eyes flicked to Grey's hands and back to his face, and this prompted him to look down at his own hands in confusion. He'd twisted the plastic blue water bottle in his hands to the point of the store-bought plastic's limit. The center was warped around his fingers and palms, and the popped metallic shards and edges cut into the crevices of his bent fingers. He cringed and released the bottle, letting it drop to the floor in a crumpled heap. He wiped his sweat and blood onto his thighs as he looked up to Lincoln sheepishly. The older man sighed and waved off his actions.

"Break is over. Last round, let's go"

Lincoln made his way to the center of the mats while Grey popped to his feet and followed him. He checked his wrapped hands and fixed the tight waistband of his leggings. Lincoln had gotten him ankle straps again so he was at lesser risk if he suddenly popped into an acrobatic routine to avoid a hit. He loved independent sparring for that reason alone. He could spend the entire time flipping and spinning and balancing and never grow tired of it. Unfortunately, there were few at the Court who had experience with ill-normative maneuvers so this meant he was stuck using these reactions and skills instinctually; mostly as a defense. It made it difficult to hone and practice his more flexible moves when no one else knew how to counter and imitate them.

He met Lincoln at the mats and fell into his starting stance with his foot slightly back and his side turned towards his opponent. Lincoln mirrored him and they stilled, waiting for the other to make the first move. Lincoln moved first, feinting directly forward with a jab before lunging. Grey blocked his throw with his forearm and swept his leg out at his calves. Lincoln dodged but Grey collapsed back onto his elbows and followed through, sweeping his other leg at Lincoln's calves as well. His second leg landed and the force made Lincoln stumble. Grey pushed backward into a handstand from his elbows and flipped away from Lincoln. As soon as he righted himself, Lincoln was in his face, swing after punch after jab. Lincoln landed a hit to his sternum and pain exploded in his center, throwing him back into a tumble.

Grey did his best to scramble to his feet despite not having any breath, which made him feel like he was drawing on air. Before he could adjust and attack, he had to roll suddenly and avoid Lincoln's heel slamming down where his torso had just been. He used his momentum on the ground and lunged at Luncoln's legs to tackle him to the floor. His opponent lost his balance and toppled to the floor in a clumsy mess of limbs.

They scrambled and grappled for a while, Grey Son was stronger and slippier but Lincoln had more experience and skill management. Every time, Grey Son managed to slip a hold, Lincoln would rotate his arm or leg and reattempt. Every time, Lincoln managed to pin Grey Son down, he'd struggle with the larger younger man and his innate ability to wiggle out of anything.

During a particularly tight armbar paired with a partial chokehold, Grey Son couldn't contain his bark of a laugh. He knew it wasn't smart to daydream or to let his thoughts wander mid-fight but every time he sparred Lincoln-logs his heartbeat pounded loud and proud in his ears, resonating so hard he imagined that Superman might be able to hear it. His skin was hot and prickly as if he had an unknown power bubbling just beneath his pores. Pushing himself to the point of a struggle threw him into the dredges of an adrenaline rush and Grey Son was thoroughly obsessed with the feeling.

Lincoln tensed at his laugh and re-tightened his hold immediately. Grey, on a whim, licked a large wet strip of skin along Lincoln's arm and Lincoln released his attempted choke.

"What the fuck Grey, that's gro-"

Grey Son planted his hips in a turn and spun around so he was topping Lincoln on the mats. He tightened his pelvic area above Lincoln's stomach and dug his legs under Lincoln's back.

He smirked down at Lincoln for a second before falling into a push-up above the man and throwing his body with all his might. They whirled head over heels and Lincoln landed lamely on his neck and shoulder. He slammed his fist into the junction between his chest and collarbone, so as to cause pain but not damage. Lincoln brought one hand up to cover the pulsating area and another to ward off Grey.

He snarled and smiled as they fell into another tussle, "Time!"

Grey released Lincoln's right arm and left calf immediately, both men falling limply to the mat, "You're just calling so you don't officially lose" Grey snarked to Lincoln.

"Shut up. I have to go meet Grandmaster soon and our sparring always takes twice as long as your schedule allows us"

"Suuuuuuure"

Lincoln read the clock from where he was sitting partially under Grey on the mats, "Fuck"

He shoved at Grey but the younger man went boneless and tried to become as much of a limp body as he could, "Move your fat ass, I'm gonna be late"

"Should've said uncle sooner" Grey called in a sing-song voice. Eventually, Lincoln clambered to his feet and kicked Grey's butt as he passed, "I gotta run but you have the afternoon. I'll tell the guards to keep the room free if you want to do independent"

Grey didn't respond as he watched Lincoln throw a towel over his broad shoulders and jog out of the room in a hurry. He tilted his head to the 2 guards posted by the door, "I guess we're staying here" he said plainly. Neither replied, no one spoke to Grey Son besides Grandmaster and Lincoln; and sometimes Dr. Amanik.

Lincoln was gone more often on missions and intel runs for the Board of Owls that led the Court. He tried apologizing in small ways when he left Grey abruptly. He brought back half a candy bar sometimes, which is how Grey realized he had an enormous sweet tooth. Other times he let Grey stay longer in the sparing rooms so he could play around with his acrobatics. There were no bars or Russian swings, or even wooden horse handles for simple exercises. This left Grey with the basics of plank positions, handstands, flips, tumbles, and whatever else he could come up with. He'd even tried taunting and challenging the guards until they practiced calisthenics with him. Grandmaster wasn't pleased he'd convinced the soldiers to leave their post.

His faint memories of a circus and his parents coincided with Grandmaster's explanation of how his parents were members of the Court and gave him to his grandfather when he was born special; born gifted. He assumed he must have picked up his knife skills and flexibility from his beginning years in the circus as well. It hadn't been a hindrance so Grandmaster had let him continue to integrate the unique style and movement into his fighting thus far. Something behind his naval, deep inside of him was desperate to maintain this privilege. He wasn't sure if he had done something that brought pride through acrobatics in the past but he felt like an integral part of him, one he actually treasured, would be beyond repair if he let go of his acrobatics.

The bend of air around his face as he moved fluidly or the quick tingle in his lower belly, as he flipped and balanced, was as close as he could get to a sober high. Something unknown about the movement and maneuvers brought incredible elation to him. He'd just completed a front-forward flip into a handstand when Lincoln had entered and demanded to know what he had done. Grey had been confused before he realized he was grinning; widely. He'd tried to explain he was just content but Lincoln had stayed suspicious for a few days as if there was some hidden prank or duty left unattended. Sometimes he wondered if his addiction to adrenaline came from his first few years alive. It must've been a fun couple of years with his birth parents if the need for that high-strung, heart-beating feeling never truly left his veins.

His days seemed to fly by quickly. Although there wasn't anything he was waiting on, it seemed to become perpetual. After the maze, his routine started up again and Grandmaster adjusted him to a schedule where he was either with one of them or allowed independent training time. He preferred it this way. Even though Grandmaster was still strict and stern, he was, more often than not, more gentile and humane in their private moments. He was softer and kinder, offering more gestures and intimate contact that warmed Grey Son to his core. Lincoln always tried to offer than softer and funnier side in their private moments, but Grandmaster had taken to that subdued approach as well. It felt….nice, to have a shoulder to brush up that wasn't bloody. It was comforting to have a steady hand brush through his hair and not yank his head back. He'd noticed that Lincoln's stares at Grandmaster's back were becoming more consistent parallel to Grandmaster's kinder behavior, but he was hesitant to bring his observations to light for fear of disrupting the commensurate balance they'd found.

Even his solitary time was more manageable. He was never reintroduced to the all-consuming darkness as long as he followed his given directives, and he was never blinded by that awful blearing white as long as he gave 101% of his effort to any task assigned to him. His days were tiring but fulfilling, always ending in finding sleep quickly and in a moderately lit room. His new room had a bed, a 3 drawer dresser, one long rug, and a corner toilet with an attached sink. He even had his own lightswitch so he could dictate when he actually went to sleep.

Grandmaster gifted him this after he asked to stay out later to continue reading. He was given materials from certain categories and genres but he was always allowed to select which articles or sections he read. He'd already found a few favorites like the world gymnastics section in his social and political textbook; Russia and America played a big part in that due to the World Olympics. He also favored a visual manual for cleaning and disassembling the standard American Navy Seal semi-auto handgun. It kept his attention because the colored diagrams resembled a comic book but he wasn't sure how he knew what a comic looked like. He had a few of these favored books strewn across the top of his dresser now but hadn't had time to re-read any as he'd had trouble staying up recently. Due to his sleep and new independence, he felt more invigorated and energized. He knew a significant factor was his meals too. He was allowed to eat whenever he wanted as his calories burned far outweighed the calories consumed. His lunch and dinners tasted and looked like 3-course French delicacies of protein and veggies. He'd mentioned to Lincoln how he could go for a pot roast in the middle of their morning sparring session and the next day at lunch, he was served a whole roast, 3 different vegetables, and 1 whole loaf of bread. Grandmaster had informed him that eating his fill was part of his duty to the Court as well because if he was lacking in hunger, strength, or stamina due to his own negligence, then he would have failed in his obligation. Grey Son didn't have a problem with fulfilling his duties by eating such delicious meals. He knew this was minimizing his headache and hunger as well as helping him bulk up. He was also slightly taller but now he was slightly larger as well. He'd mentioned this quick physique change to Lincoln but he'd shrugged it off, blaming it on the elctrum's severe effect on his body and metabolism. His increased muscle mass meant that he usually had to stretch more before and after sparring to keep as limber as he preferred.

His matches and sparring sessions were longer and more cut-throat every day. Grandmaster had continued to up the number of opponents he countered at once, or increased the number of injuries he started a sparring match with. Along with this, he had grappling, independent study, physical checkups, endurance training, and training at the range. The range was a surprise every day as he was never allowed to choose what gun he would practice with. He was never allowed to see the targets unless he was using a sniper variant of some sort, so he was expected to perfect his instinctive training. Lincoln always reminded him that hitting anything was better than not to encourage him to take the shot even if he wasn't 100% sure of the target. During his breaks and lunch, he was given medical physicals, eye exams, blood work, hormonal diagnosis, immune boosting shots, and the works. His upper arms had become numb from his daily shots. He'd informed Lincoln that his balance became unsteady after his 9 PM shot and sometimes his vision wasn't totally reliable. The next day, Grandmaster reassured him that his immune system works too quickly for most shots but, despite the shots having a strange side effect, the internal booster for his health and energy was needed. He never questioned the injections after that; he just learned to counter for bad balance each night.

It was in a one-handed hand-stand that Grandmaster and Lincoln found him sometime later. He spotted the pair at the doorway and tumbled to the floor before getting to his feet and standing at attention. Grandmaster smiled, and Grey Son relaxed his firm stance; slightly.

"I'm pleased to see that your aim is improving, Grey Son"

"Thank you, Grandmaster"

There was a period of time when range and target practice were his most trying times of the day. He wasn't what held him back from aiming the gun, much less pulling the trigger but it sent his body into trembles and severe shakes. He'd chucked the gun at Lincoln's head at one point, forcing the man to fall into a fit of laughter, at Grey's mortified expression. Once he collected himself he realized how lucky he was not to have Grandmaster present for his bizarre reaction.

The older man nodded, "I see you've been practicing your acrobatics more often"

Grey nodded, "Yes sir. I like it and it's been very useful defensively but I wanted to ensure that I can use it offensively"

Grandmaster's eyes shown with amusement, "I'm pleased to see find such a proactive and driven mind inside you my boy. I was worried that Lincoln was encouraging your youthful immaturity beyond a balanced modicum, especially after the good doctor informed me that you requested a particular bandage for your cut the other day"

Grey flushed under the praise before the flush turned deeper from embarrassment. He didn't realize his request to Dr. Amanik for a 'My Little Pony bandaid' would make its way up the food chain. At least he got Lincoln to laugh at his last physical. After a moment he realized no one was speaking and peeked back up. Grandmaster was observing him with a slight tilt to his lips. He opened his mouth to question the older man when Grandmaster spoke, "You are integrating yourself well, boy. You are excelling in your lessons and reading, taking initiative on topics accessible to you, and pursuing practice enhancements to yourself. I am pleased. Truly"

The older man made his way to Grey Son and gripped his shoulders like a proud father might hold his son. He appraised Grey Son for a moment longer before momentarily tightening his grip, "Despite your uneasy integration back into the nest and your survival of the maze, you have many trials and tribulations yet to come. Many will be from your past which makes your triumph over them all the more necessary. Your rejection of anything that is not the Court will make you stronger in the end, my boy. Lincoln and I will always be here to support you, but in return your loyalty and strength must be laid bare for us"

Grey stared back and couldn't help the way his lips parted in confusion. "Of course grandmaster but-"

The older man cut him off, "Do not trouble yourself too much on this my boy. I merely wish to impart some general advice and reminders. Many of us old folks cannot help preaching"

Grey tried to smile at the words despite Grandmaster's stern lips and eyes. He wasn't used to Grandmaster touching him for so long and he wasn't used to ever hearing him attempt to be funny.

"I am doing better grandmaster. I feel stronger and more centered every day"

That must have been the correct thing to admit because Grandmaster hummed kindly and ran a calloused hand over his cheek before tapping lightly, "I know you are my boy. No dependent of mine could ever fail to prosper, especially one as genetically and skillfully gifted as you. You are our future after all. Once we know more about your exact biology, all future generations and talons will be modeled after you"

Grey couldn't help the heat that stained his cheeks. He glanced at Lincoln who was watching Grandmaster from the side with a vague and monotone expression. Wasn't Lincoln happy for him? Grey Son wondered.

"I think it's time for a small change, an addition to your near-perfect image if you will"

Grey's attention was snapped back to Grandmaster over his words and confusion flitted over his features.

Grandmaster didn't explain but took a step back towards the door, "Come" he said motioning out to the door.

‐—-‐—-‐‐‐—-

He couldn't help running his hand through his scalp for the millionth time as he watched his reflection. His hair was noticeably shorter, like a cross between a crew cut and a French crop to where it looked like when some militant members allowed their hair to grow past the standardized cut. The fade that traveled up his neck and into his hair was close to his scalp but on one side in particular the shave was almost too close to his skin. But there was a reason for that. Grandmaster had arranged for his haircut in order to freshen up his look apparently. The haircut was going well up until he spotted color peaking through his rapidly shortening hair. With a sudden thrill, all the air in his lungs escaped his chest as quickly as his muscles tensed without his consent.

The razor hadn't stopped which acted like a trigger for Grey Son, shocking him into action. He'd headbutted the barber and snatched the razor in a simple twist, jamming it under his neck with a low growl. Lincoln had stepped in and slammed an elbow into his throat, forcing him to stumble back.

Grey moved to direct his aggressive defense at Lincoln but stopped short at the sound of Grandmaster's clear call, "Bluebird"

He dropped the blade and watched the older man's icy eyes narrow on him. Afterward and many apologies later, he felt foolish and ashamed for his knee-jerk reaction. Luckily grandmaster was accepting of his explanation that the tattoo he'd apparently had this whole time had brought forth some strange memories or reactions. Apparently, he'd gotten the tattoo under duress and those memories were understandably linked to the tattoo itself, something that Grandmaster reiterated would be worked on so the reaction was less inclined to occur again. His hair felt abnormal now, he was never used to hair this short, especially on the side with the tattoo. He'd asked Lincoln if he could see his tattoo but Lincoln had stated that Grey Son was the only one with a tattoo. Much less a symbolic one. Hearing that information caused something unpleasant to tug at his gut. He wasn't sure if he felt isolated over the news or if his own tattoo was intimating the wearer now. But he knew that he would've felt more reassured to know that all approved and worthy talons held a tattoo or brand of their own.

From what he could see there was a large owl talon grasping a small flailing bird. The design was a tad abstract and relied on Gaelic knot designs and color theory combinations but the tattoo was overall intimidating. Something Grandmaster was most likely going for when he had it designed and placed on his own talon.

"You're going to give yourself a rash"

Grey hummed irritatedly and ran his hand through his shortened hair again. His dark locks were still longer on top but the strange spiky sensation of a close shave and fade had him habitually stuck running his fingertips through the short ends.

"Stop that"

Lincoln grasped his wrist and lowered his arm, giving Grey a look in the mirror. Grey returned his look with a childish sneer over his shoulder.

Lincoln scoffed before stepping away, "Grandmaster is arranging a meeting between us, a few backups, and some enemies. Your job is to stay silent" He gave him another look, "The whole time"

Grey sent an inquiring look at Lincoln, finally turning around from the mirror, "What am I there for if Grandmaster just wants them intimidated?"

Lincoln smiled sardonically, "You don't think you're intimidating?"

He shrugged, "Not really. Not like yo-" he froze, "Are we leaving base?"

Lincoln shook his head as he turned to stop selecting certain fabrics from a pile of clothes behind him. After his haircut, a guard had brought in some clothes to the med room. He assumed they were either for Lincoln or just a fresh new pair, but looking closer Grry could see that they looked like under-armor clothing. Soft padding bike pants with a long-sleeved padded shirt and briefs.

"We'll be staying inside. The opposing party Grandmaster wants us present for is already here. We are trading them to the League of Shadows and a few others for intel and support, but Grandmaster wants us there as intimidation…among other reasons"

"Seems strange to put in the effort to gloat if they're our prisoners and we are selling them off" Grey commented.

Lincoln refused to meet his eyes, "Grandmaster wants to make an example of them mainly, they-uh tried to steal something from the Court"

Grey opened his mouth to insist that he was the last person to instill fear on behalf of the Court. He wasn't about to argue against his skills but he wasn't the most threatening by far. He'd seen Lincoln cause knees to tremble and bodies to quake just from walking by in a bad mood. He'd seen others as well, there was a man named Long who looked at everyone but Grandmaster like a giant wild cat that was plotting its next meal. There was also a man named Velasquez who could pummel anyone with anything. He was always an opponent for Grey during his sparring sessions and punching his ribs and face felt like socking a cement wall. He could stand there and take everything while glowering at you like you were in the wrong for defending yourself.

Lincoln cut him off, "You are our next Talon and most valued weapon. Even if you doubt your ability to place fear in the hearts of our enemies, Grandmaster doesn't. Plus, we can safely assume he wants to brag. You are a whole new type of meta, Grey. Not an alien but not a genetic fluctuation that caused heightened senses. You're a born supersoldier, not made. You're a force to be reckoned with and your existence alone will worry many of our enemies"

Grey nodded slightly, he could see the logic in that. If his birth and continued existence were a feat on its own then presenting him as a trained soldier on behalf of the Court could easily cause their enemies to fret over what else the Court was capable of.

Lincoln reached out and Grey realized with a jolt that he was supposed to take the clothing from Lincoln. He jerkily placed out his arms and Lincoln laid a top, some underwear, a cloth neck guard, socks, and pants in his arms. He also placed a strange-looking half-mask on top of the pile.

Grey studied the bundle of clothing and gnawed his lower lip between his teeth.

"Lincoln?"

"What?"

"Did I mess up?"

Lincoln gave him a bewildered look, "Who told you that you messed up? Messed up what?"

He glanced over at the other man who was watching him more closely, "I- I don't know but the tattoo and everything. I-well I'm worried Grandmaster did it to remind me of my position here" He glanced away, "And not in a good way"

Lincoln scoffed, "Don't overthink it. Grandmaster didn't do this to punish you. Yeah, it's a reminder of where you come from and what your future is all about but you could say the same thing about most tattoos civilians get can't you?"

Grey cocked his head at Lincoln in question.

Lincoln shrugged, "Most tattoos are just depictions of who you are or who you want to be. Grandmaster just wants it obvious for our enemies to see where our weapon's loyalty lays"

Grey nodded but his stomach churned over being referred to as a weapon so blatantly. He knew he shouldn't let it bother him, knowing that Grandmaster would punish him for feeling offended by the truth but his soul and insides felt dirty over the dehumanizing title. He knew he was supposed to be as strong as possible to be a better weapon for the Court, as all of his brothers and sisters were, but that didn't change how unsettled and nauseous the transparent designation made him look and feel. He imagined it was how most people felt when a good friend said something insulting; stunned and hurt.

He folded up the rest of the clothing under his arm and faced Grey again, "Your actual armor will be waiting for you in your room. You have dinner now but be prepared to wear this all tomorrow morning. I'll get you before Grandmaster comes, don't worry"

Grey relaxed slightly at hearing Lincoln would be his morning wake-up call. Unease churned in his gut as he thought over the vague importance of tomorrow. Lincoln seemed hesitant to give him many details but it was obviously an important encounter. Maybe another test? Like the maze? An involuntary shudder racked his shoulders before he forced himself to stop. He'd been doing well recently, he couldn't afford to mess this up.

If what Lincoln said was true then all he had to do was dress and present himself. He could make himself as quiet as possible. A shadow of doubt flickered in the back of his mind, if he found a way to mess up tomorrow then he truly deserved even Lincoln's disappointment.