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The first time Dick killed someone, it left him feeling emptier than he thought it would. His parents’ killer laid on the ground, choking in his own blood, and yet Dick couldn’t stop shaking. That night, he cried as Bruce provided him with what little comfort he could offer. Through the tears, he begged to be allowed to continue their mission.
Dick's hands no longer shook when he took a life. He no longer needed to remind himself that he needed to be brave, that Bruce needed him to be brave. At one point, Bruce had tried to be his shield, sheltering him from the rot of Gotham city. Now, it was Dick’s turn to protect Bruce by acting as his sword.
He would purge Gotham, one criminal at a time. Tonight, that criminal was a bureaucrat. The type of scum that stole from those in need to enrich himself while hiding in the shell of corruption as protection from the consequences of his actions.
That criminal was also a father of two.
Dick had spent the past week watching his target. He was… kind to his children. That didn’t change the fact that Bruce had demanded he be killed. It didn’t matter how gently he held his daughter or how fondly he ruffled his son’s hair, the man was a cancer to Gotham, the type that not even Bruce’s connections could cure.
Still, Dick may have been a weapon, but he was not a mindless one. There were lines he hadn’t crossed yet, that he wasn’t ready to cross yet. Killing in front of a child was one of them. He knew there’d be a time when the job called for it, maybe even a time his mentor demanded it of him (though he knew Bruce wasn’t cruel by nature, only cold to his enemies) but that day was not today so Dick chose a night where the children were out to silently slide into the man’s apartment.
The lights were off in the main room, a soft glow instead came from the kitchen door which had been left ajar. The sound of whistling and running water covered his steps. The holster attached to his suit hid the glint of his many blades. He readied one for a clean kill. The point tonight was to make a statement, to show Gotham what happened when you stole from her to enrich yourself, but that didn’t mean he had to be cruel about it. He’d never been in the business of killing for pleasure, nor would he allow himself or Bruce to slip down that path.
As Dick crept towards the kitchen door, he heard someone behind him. Without a moment of hesitation, he spun around to face the figure, sending his knife flying before he could even get a look at the person. It embedded in the wall as they dove out of the way. In the nighttime light, he could make out long red hair on the figure and something that was hiding the top half of her face.
“Stop right there,” Her voice sounded young, maybe around Dick’s age. She was quick to jump to her feet as the target startled behind him. “I’m not letting you kill anyone tonight!”
Silently, Dick berated his apparent lack of stealth as the girl launched herself at him. In the light, he could see her a bit better. The dark purple of her suit was good for blending into the shadows. The bright bat symbol on her chest was not, however it was interesting. Dick was certain he’d seen a similar symbol in the cave below the manor while Bruce had regaled him with his misguided attempts at bringing justice to Gotham city.
It seemed Batman had a fan.
Dick dodged several (admittedly) solid punches thrown his way. At least the Batgirl had some training. Still, he couldn’t help the sour taste that fighting a child left in his mouth. Sure, she looked a little older than him, but he’d lost the right to call himself a child the moment he joined Bruce’s crusade.
When Dick heard a door slam from the kitchen, he decided it was time to end their little game. As interesting as the idea of a vigilante was, there was a man who was meant to die tonight. With a quick sweep, the girl was sent to the ground. It didn't keep her down for long, but it was enough to allow Dick to chase after his target who had fled at the first sign of trouble.
The corridors of the apartment complex were short and narrow. The target was nowhere to be seen, but there was only one way out of the building. Dick sprinted to the nearest stairwell while the girl chased close behind. Several flying objects were sent towards his head, but none of them found their target. Dick, however, found his two floors away from the exit.
Grabbing a knife from his suit, Dick did the quick calculations needed to ensure a deadly strike. He threw the knife just as the girl tackled him to the ground, but it was too late. Gurgling sounds could be heard further down the stairwell.
"No!" Without hesitation, the girl practically threw herself over the railing to get to the dying man. Dick watched as she frantically tried to stop the blood spraying from his neck but it was no use. He'd bleed out within seconds if he hadn't already.
By the time the girl came to the same conclusion, Dick was long gone. On the way home, he tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d crossed yet another line before he was ready.
Jim Gordon was one of the few decent cops in Gotham. There was value in that, however Bruce had explained that there was even more value in cooperation. Money could not buy him and ousting was almost certain to lead to someone who was worse at the job. That's how he ended up in the commissioner's house in search of blackmail material.
Shamefully, it's also how he ended up with his hands in the air as a girl, barely older than himself, held him at gunpoint. Her hair was the same red as Batgirl and she spoke with the same voice as she ordered, "Don't move."
Dick complied. Unlike the rest of the Talons at the Court's disposal, he was not functionally immortal. Bruce had successfully convinced the court that undergoing the electrum treatment while he was still growing would only lead to a less effective assassin. Privately, he assured Dick he’d never have to go through with it unless he were to meet his untimely end. It had been something of a relief at the time, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty that he wasn’t doing more. Wouldn’t he be able to do so much more good if his body wasn’t a limiting factor?
"I don't know who you are,” The girl, Batgirl, Barbara Gordon, looked even more determined than she had the first time they crossed paths. The light in her eyes seemed a little dimmer too. Was that night her first time seeing a dead body? If so, he felt a little bad. “But I'm not letting you kill me or my dad."
"Will you shoot me?" Dick asked softly. The question seemed to take her off guard.
Her aim wavered enough that Dick could probably make a quick getaway if he wasn't so curious.
"How old are you?" The question held a note of horror. Dick did not answer. Barbara hesitated for a moment, but her grip tightened once again. "What you’re doing is wrong... But if you need help, my dad's a good guy. He can help."
Dick held back a laugh. The last thing he needed was help. He was exactly where he was meant to be, where he wanted to be. He could hardly imagine a better life than the one he had. Besides, what he did with Bruce, it was only ever for the good of the city, whether some kid playing hero could see it or not.
A noise downstairs suddenly drew Barbara's attention. The commissioner must have come home early.
Dick took that as his cue to leave. The moment she was distracted, he was gone.
The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing Gotham in oppressive shadow. Hidden amongst the gargoyles, Dick watched as civilians hurried home. He smiled to himself once the crowds had thinned. Gotham, for all its faults, knew to be afraid of the dark.
By the time the street lights began to flicker on, there was hardly a single soul to be seen in the streets below. Upstanding citizens found safety in their beds, leaving only those with ill intentions and a less than stellar sense of self preservation became prey.
Normally, Dick would already be hunting by now. Tonight, however, was special. Tonight, he had not been given a target nor a mission. All he’d been given was Bruce’s reluctant permission to explore the city he was meant to protect. In exchange, he simply had to remain out of sight.
And out of sight he remained. Dick stuck to the rooftops, never dipping low enough to be caught from a window by the casual observer. His suit, stripped of the golden regalia that he usually wore, allowed him to simply be swallowed by the endless abyss that was the night sky.
Like all things in Gotham, the sky was oppressive in its bleak emptiness. Where there should be stars, there was pollution. More than once, back when he’d first arrived in Bruce’s care Dick had caught himself helplessly searching for the constellations his parents had once taught him. Sometimes, he’d allowed himself a fantasy, one where Bruce would take him far away from this palace, where he would teach him what his own parents were no longer able to. Those fantasies had long since slipped through his fingers, along with the names of the stars his parents had taught him. Not that it mattered anymore. Dick had a purpose, and the stars played no part in it.
Dick turned his attention back towards the city. His city, Bruce’s city. He watched the rooftops, just as empty below as above, with a sharp pang of disappointment that was followed by guilt. Dick had a purpose, one which he betrayed every time he hoped to see a flash of red hair or catch a glimpse of a bright yellow bat.
Batgirl was a distraction at best and an obstacle at worst. The sight of her filled him with fantasies of what it might be like to fly by her side. What it might be like if he’d never- Logically, he should have been happy that sightings of her had greatly diminished over the past two months. Instead, like all things in Gotham, he was empty.
The chill of night set into his bones along with the thought that maybe he deserved to feel how it ate away at him. It was selfish to allow himself a distraction while Gotham needed him. Worse than that, it felt almost like a betrayal to keep his feelings all to himself.
Maybe Bruce would offer correction if he asked.
A new, well, hero wouldn't be the right term for it. A new menace maybe as they didn't differentiate between the Court's operations and the people his operation were meant to stop. But, there was a new player in Gotham City by the name of Oracle.
The people praised them as a hero, Master called them a nuisance.
Regardless of what they were, it was of no concern to Talon. All he needed to worry about was completing his work, even if the line he had to cross left him feeling sick for weeks to come.
Silly as it was, there were times where Dick found himself wishing for the mundane. Today, he hid in plain sight to watch over the daughter of a particularly unruly Owl, he wondered what it might be like to have a library card. Sure, Alfred was more than willing to order him any book he requested and he’d borrowed books from his ever rotating set of tutors, but this felt different.
A card would have his name on it. It would mean he existed as his own person, as Dick Grayson rather than the Gray Son. It would be a step away from Bruce that he certainly wasn’t willing to take.
Dick allowed the fantasy to die before it could take root. He’d been down this road before, allowed his mind to wander to a place where he’d never talked Bruce into letting him become a killer, where he’d insisted on friends and school instead of duty and loyalty. It was never worth entertaining.
Dick snapped his book shut as his target left the library with her friends. He stood up a few moments later, returning his book and following behind with enough distance to give him plausible deniability. He’d tail her for a few more hours, report back to Bruce, and later be told if further action would need to be taken.
On his way out of the library, Dick stopped when he saw familiar red hair. Barbara Gordon walked down the street with a pronounced limp and the outline of a brace hidden under her pants. She’d been injured, though whether it was from her other life was anyone’s guess.
Suddenly, a thought made Dick’s throat go dry. He could approach her if he really wanted to. Dressed as a civilian, Dick Grayson could-
He stopped that train of thought before it could spiral out of control. He knew better. Besides, how could he possibly be friends with someone who would give up the fight to make Gotham a better place. The mere idea of it felt like a betrayal.
Swallowing down petty feelings, Talon turned away from Barbara Gordon and followed his target.
The speed at which everything could change was dizzying at times. One lucky hit and suddenly your blossoming vigilante career was over. Barbara found herself reminded of that fact with every step she took.
She's been good since her injury. She'd stopped running around on rooftops at night, she went to physical therapy, she gave it time. And yet, despite having weeks to recover, her leg was not getting any better. If anything it felt like it was getting worse.
Once upon a time, she'd found herself inspired by the stories of Gotham's short lived vigilante. She'd never taken the time to wonder why he might have stopped what he did. Not until she found herself in the emergency room unable to even tell her own father what had happened.
Things were... better now. In a way. She no longer chased after criminals in the night. Instead, she drained their bank accounts and exposed their crimes online for the world to see which was its own thrill. At first, she'd seen it as a temporary way to still do good.
Then it became clear that Batgirl would not be coming back.
Barbara grit her teeth, ignoring the pain as she slowly ascended to stairs. The knowledge that she'd eventually have to tell someone about her deteriorating condition was worse than the pain itself. It was bad enough that her dad thought she got hurt from some stupid stunt, she couldn't take pitying looks from him on top of that.
By the time she got to the top of the stairs, she noticed something was... off. She looked around with a level of caution and paranoia that quickly gets cultivated with the vigilante lifestyle before moving forward. Nothing was out of place, and she couldn't find any trace of an intruder.
Carefully, she crept to her room, avoiding any of the floorboards that liked to creek. When she made it to the door, she found an empty room waiting for her.
Her relief was short lived as she felt cold metal pressed to her neck. Faster than she could react, someone grabbed her from behind, twisting her arm and forcing her weight onto her bad leg. She choked down the pained cry that wanted to crawl from her throat, not willing to give her assailant the satisfaction.
"Oracle," Barbara froze as the vaguely familiar voice whispered in her ear. Fear crept up her spine, but she swallowed it down. Oracle would not give her attacker the satisfaction of fear. "You've made a lot of enemies."
"What do you want?" Barbara fought to keep her voice steady, her main obstacle being pain rather than fear.
"My Master admires your skills," The voice spoke with reverence. "He wants your cooperation."
"He can ask nicely if he wants it so-" Barbara cut herself off when the knife was pressed against her throat. She held her breath when it began to draw blood.
"This is not a request," His voice remained neutral, even as his grip on her wrist grew tighter as he adjusted his hold on her, forcing more weight onto her leg. She let out a pained grunt before she could stop it. "Our goals align."
"I somehow doubt that."
Barbara braced for more pain, but it didn't come. Instead, softly, almost affectionately the voice said, "I don't want to hurt you, Batgirl."
Before she could react, she was shoved forward. She stumbled but caught herself on the doorframe before she could fall. Her leg practically screamed at her for it, but she stood to face her attacker. Her glare was reflected in the lenses of his hood.
Recognition immediately sparked. The same boy who'd broken into her home months prior, who had killed an innocent man right in front of her.
"I don't work with murderers."
"My Master," He began, his voice carefully devoid of emotion. "Has never taken a life. I keep his hands clean."
"Ordering you to kill for him doesn't make him any less guilty."
There was a moment of hesitation from the boy. Then, he turned away.
"We don't wish to harm you... But your father-"
"Leave him out of this!"
"We have no reason to hurt him," Yet. "Don't keep him waiting."
With that, he made his exit. A graceful leap out the nearest window and he was gone into the night.
Barbara did not follow him. Instead, she went into her room, already illuminated by the soft glow of her computer. Numbly, she looked at the screen where the symbol of an owl was waiting.