A Light in the Darkness

It had been so long. So long, existing in the shadows, not living, never dying. He didn't remember his name. He didn't remember who he had been before. There were no mirrors down here; he saw own his face so rarely that it was an effort to remember what he looked like most of the time.

He was Talon. He had been working for the Court of Owls for... he didn't know how many years. He thought it might be four. On his last assignment, he had noticed a calender, tacked on the wall of his victim's home. Of course, that was assuming he remembered the year he had started as Talon, and he wasn't sure he did. So it was either four, or it was twelve. He hoped it was four.

Most of his days were spent wandering the labyrinth of the Court, memorizing passageways, sparring with other Talons whenever they ran across each other. If he was needed, he would be called. If he was successful, they would allow him to continue wandering. If not, he would go into cryo sleep. More often than not, he was successful.

The days ran together. Or, he thought they were days. There was no light down here. If he got tired, he simply dropped to the floor and rested. The Court left food lying around so he didn't starve. He wasn't sure he could starve, but not feeling hunger pain was nice.

All in all, nothing changed. Wandering lead to assignments lead to wandering. That is, until he heard something. Something that he had never heard down here before. The labyrinth was always silent, except when Court was in session. Then voices bounced around the twisted halls, becoming increasingly distorted until all that was left was pitch and tone.

Then one day, something changed. It took him a minute to identify it. The voices were bouncing as they always did. As usual, all that was left was the pitch and the tone of the adults who surrounded him. And something else. It was higher, but not womanly. It was enraged, and scared. A child. There was a child in the Court.

For what he had hoped were the past four years, he had been the youngest in the court. When he had started, he had been the same size as his victims nine year old children. Children who had fallen under his knife for the crime of witnessing their parents murders. It had been what the Court had ordered, and the Talon always acts as the Owl commands.

Curiosity drew him closer to the center of the maze, the Parliament room. He was hesitant – if he found the child, they might order him to kill it – but he couldn't stop himself. He stopped just outside of view, but close enough to see.

The entire Court was in attendance. Expressionless, white masks were all turned to the center, where a Talon held a small form by the hood of his sweatshirt. "Talon Alexander, why have you brought this to us?"

Alexander, one of the Talons who had been alive long enough to merit the return of his name, gave the child a shake. Unperturbed, the boy, for it was a boy, kept struggling and shouting. "This is a street rat I have seen a few times above. Today, I found him in the labyrinth. When I caught him, he gave a decent fight. He has potential."

Another Owl, one of the more conservative ones, spoke up. "We have no need for a new Talon. We have the Acrobat."

The Acrobat. That was all he was called. Until the day when the Court decided he was worthy, he had no name besides Talon.

Another Owl countered, "We will always have need of new Talons. The Bat has been snooping around, increasing his influence. We will require all the tools we can if we are to defeat him."

The Batman had been making a nuisance of himself since before Talon had become Talon. For the most part, the Court's business never ventured into Batman's sphere of influence, but every once in a while, he would disrupt the shipping of some item that the Court needed. In return, Talon knew that the string of unsolvable assassinations had the Bat both curious and frustrated.

The Grandmaster sat quietly while the Court argued around him. Finally, he raised his hand. The silence was sudden and absolute, except for the boy still trying to struggle his way out of Alexander's grip. "We shall take the boy. If Alexander believes he has potential, then he could be a great asset. And Gotham will hardly miss this one. There are a hundred like him in any five block radius. Get him cleaned up, and then prepare him."

Alexander bowed. As he turned, most likely to go to the pool Talons used for washing, the boy was briefly visible to the Acrobat's eyes. And for the first time in so long, he felt something.

Mom? Do you think I would make a good big brother?

Of course! You are so kind, and caring.

Can I have one then? A sister? Or a brother? I'll feed them and walk them and play with them and-

Silly boy. Siblings aren't pets. But we'll see.

The voices were familiar, and not. One was bright and childish and playful and wonderful. If his voice hadn't been dead and cracking, it might have once been that one. The other was warm and feminine, like a woman he had once overheard telling a child they could not have more ice cream, not until tomorrow. And they rang in his head like a bell.

The child in front of him was no older than ten and had dark hair and blue-green eyes. He was scruffy and dirty and he kept lashing out with his feet, kicking at Alexander's side and leg uselessly. And if the child-that-Talon-had-been had ever thought about having a brother, this boy would look exactly like he had imagined. He was so full of life, and being Talon would destroy this boy, just as being Talon had destroyed the Acrobat.

But he could do nothing for him. He would be cleaned, and he would get the electrum injection, and he would be trained. And he would be watched night and day until he was ready for assignments.

That was it then. The child would be Talon in body, but the Acrobat would stop him from being Talon in spirit. On the night of his first outing, he would take him from here. He would run from the Court. He would flee for eternity and he would keep the boy safe.

This, he promised.

Jason had done a lot of stupid things in his life, but stealing Batman's tires was probably the pinnacle. Of course the Bat had found him. And after losing his tire iron – seriously, hitting that guy was like hitting a brick wall; what were his abs made of? – he just had to go and fall down a manhole. The Bat had been following him, so he'd kept going, splashing through the sewers, barely noticing when the ankle deep water gave way to white polished stone.

When someone had grabbed his shoulder, obviously he had though it was Batman, trying to drag him to the cops or foster care or something else among those lines. So he had fought back. And now he was going to be made into what? A Talon? That couldn't be right.

He knew the nursery rhyme as well as any other Gothamite. Beware the Court of Owls, blah blah. They didn't really exist. But it looked like they did and they were going to make him into their tool.

Like he was going to let that happen. Not that he could stop it. The Talon that was still holding him by the neck was really strong. He definitely wasn't going out without a fight though. So he kicked, hard enough that the Talon held him at arm's length. Sally the corner girl had taught him a few moves for getting people to let go and he used all of them. Pulling back fingers to break them, thumb nails jabbed between the tendons in the wrist, every pressure point he knew of in the one arm he could reach.

Finally, the Talon reared back and tossed Jason away. His sense of victory was dashed the moment he landed, not on rock as he had expected, but in frigid water. He resurfaced sputtering, only to get grabbed again.

The next stretch of time – he wasn't even sure how long it was – was the most disturbing in his life. His ratty clothing was ripped off of him, literally, seams tearing and everything. It had been crap, but it had been all he had. Some other Talons showed up, one helping the first one hold him down while another started scrubbing at him. And none to gently either. After blasting off the dirt caked to his skin, they proceeded to take off the first two layers of skin. And they got everything. He cried out when they grabbed him there at the memories that surfaced. Too many close calls, some closer than others.

Throughout it all, the Talons kept their faces blank and expressionless. He was almost grateful. They only reacted when he kneed them in sensitive areas, and even then it was just to dunk him under until he ran out of air. The water dragged at his limbs, making every movement agony.

At the end of it, they tossed him back on shore. Completely naked, he was far too cold and tired to do much more than lay where they dropped him. He did try though. Reaching out with one hand, he pulled himself across the floor, ignoring the way small rocks scraped across his thighs, leaving bloody furrows in their wake. He couldn't really feel his legs anyway.

Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, the three Talons walked past him. The last one grabbed him by his neck and dragged him after them. He grabbed at the fingers, but didn't have the strength to break them.

The walk took an eternity. He was fairly sure he passed out somewhere in the middle. Finally, his feet raw and bleeding from where they had been dragged on the floor, the Talons stopped in front of a door. They turned to him. "Before we lose the chance, tell us your name."

What did they need that for? "Go... f-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the Talon holding him lifted him and slapped him full across the face. "Some day, you may earn the right to have your name returned. Tell us or lose it forever."

He was so tired. He hadn't eaten at all today. The Bat's tires were supposed to be his next meal. And yesterday he'd only had a bun and three pieces of moldy cheese. With running from the Bat, fighting his captors, and that stint in the freezing cold pool of water, he didn't have the energy to resist anymore. "Jason."

The Talons nodded and opened the door.

Before them was a large stone coffin, with tubes protruding from the lid and reaching up to the ceiling. It took two of them to lift the lid, revealing the countless needles extending from the underside. If he had been thinking clearly, Jason would have realized what it was for much sooner and tried to escape again. As it was, he didn't, not until he was lying in the coffin, the lid dropping down on him.

As the needles entered his skin at every point on his body, he screamed. Liquid fire swam through his veins, simmered in his muscles, settled in his bones. It felt like all his organs were melting, reforming, changing. He cried out for his mom, for Sally the corner girl, for Mr Turner who used him as a punching bag. For Aloysius, that French guy who argued with Walter about everything and gave Jason quarters when he sided with him. For Mabel Mackenzie who chased him off with a broom every time she saw him. For anyone and everyone he knew, regardless of their relationship to him. Anything would be better than this. Tears streamed from his eyes, stopping when the fire reached them. His screams were cut off when it reached his lungs. Eventually, he could only lay there paralyzed, dying in his own skin.

The Acrobat sat curled in a side tunnel. He had watched as Alexander and Henry and Ephram washed the boy as if he was nothing more than an inanimate object. He had watched as they dragged him to the room, threw him in the coffin and started the electrum treatment. He sat and listened as the boy screamed and cried and shouted names. He listened as the boy fell silent, not willingly, but because the electrum was strengthening his lungs. He listened as the boy died and became immortal.

After he was done, the Talons still in the room would take him to cold storage. He would stay there, frozen, for three days. Long enough for the electrum to settle without killing him. Long enough for the Court to wipe away his memories, his name, his everything. The Acrobat cursed himself again. The boy had said his name, he had heard the Talons ask for it. But he'd been to far away to hear the whispered word. As silently as he could, he ran off.

He needed to get away from the cold stone halls. He wasn't allowed above ground, not without an assignment, but the sewers were fine. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find an open manhole and he could see the sky, the sun. Coming across his first manhole cover, a small frown of disappointment crossed his usually inexpressive face. No light coming from the little holes in the cover, no chance at seeing the sun today. Or tonight, as the case was.

Twenty minutes into his wandering, he heard splashing. It wasn't heavy enough to be Croc, and it was too late to be a maintenance worker. For the second time that night, his curiosity got the better of him. He crept closer, making less noise than the minnows swimming in the water.

"I lost him. He's probably wherever he stashed the tires, planning to pawn them somewhere. ... Don't smile like that. I know you're smiling in that way you do. Yes, I can fail at things too. Just send the new tires, alright? And prepare a mechanical kit. Clearly, I need to upgrade the security system on the car. ... No, he was just some kid. Stop smiling. When I get back to base, we're going through the traffic cams. Maybe we can follow him back to his hideout, get the tires back. ... No, I don't have an ulterior motive. ... Fine, yes, I want to help him. He's just a kid. ... You didn't see him. He had spunk. If Gotham hasn't broken him yet, maybe there's hope for him. ... He shouldn't be too hard to find on the cams Alfred. It's the middle of winter, most people are wearing winter coats. All he had was a hooded sweater. ... Red. ... How long? ... Alright, I'll go topside and meet the tires then. See you in a few minutes."

He sat in his auxiliary tunnel, mind whirling at what he had just heard. Some guy was looking for the boy. Some guy and he apparently wanted to help. If he made a noise, if he lead the man back to the Court...

No. That wouldn't work. Maybe the man could save the boy. But if he did, the child would die. The only ones who could keep him alive for the rest of the electrum treatment were the Talons and the Court. And by then it would be too late for the boy. Gotham had done its best, but it had nothing on the Court. If he wasn't broken by now, he would be soon. And all the Acrobat could do was watch and wait. Wait for the time when he could pull his br- fellow child-Talon away from this life. Hopefully before the boy could take his first life.

Whisper silent, he stole back down the tunnels. He was getting tired. He would check on the child, then find a tunnel to sleep in. If he didn't get an assignment tomorrow, he would check on the child again. Above all, he couldn't let the boy become Talon. He couldn't and wouldn't.

AN: Hello! Back again with a new story! Hooray! This one is an AU, obviously. A Talon one, again, obviously. And some warnings for heavy violence. Honestly, I am not nice to my characters in this one.