A/N: Guess who isn't dead and is still writing? me, that's who. This didn't go at all how I intended but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ gotta got with where it takes you. I wrote this in sleep-deprived sessions where my soul was so dead, not even the Lazarus Pit could bring it back, so it's a hot mess and all over the place, sorry ughghh.

I have like...4 or 5 requests I have to do, so RIP Me.

Counting Bodies Like Sheep

"I was hung from a tree made of tongues of the weak
The branches, the bones of the liars, the thieves
Rise up above it, high up above and see
One night of the hunter, one day I will get revenge"

Jason's heart thumped an almost painfully quick pace in his chest as he lay on the dusty floor. He stared wide-eyed and unseeing at the ceiling as if it held the answers to his problems. Talon hovered over him, looking far too much like a leopard waiting to feast for Jason's liking. Still, he did not move. The weight of his predicament and new revelations seemed to keep him tied down and helpless. He certainly felt helpless. The assassin watched with a morbid sort of fascination as the resignation killed what little light had sparked in Jason's eyes.

With no warning, Talon rose on graceful feet and turned from the downed man. It was clear he viewed Jason as no threat just in the relaxed way he moved. There was no line of tension drawing up his shoulders. No hint of wariness in his posture. It was equal parts humiliating and irritating to be thought so little of. Jason watched the killer's soft steps closely, still on edge from the earlier assault. Every shift set his teeth on edge. Talon was unpredictable with his temper, making him a troubling foe.

He seemed to stop before a spot of blank, peeling wall just out of Jason's view and stare. It seemed to be a recurring theme with the new Dick Grayson. He stared far more than before and it was downright creepy. There was something he couldn't quite place in those gleaming eyes that made him want to crawl out of his skin. Jason saw pure evil, was face-to-face with it on a daily basis for a year, yet this was something completely different. It left the astringent taste of fear lingering like bile on his tongue. It kept his pulse pounding despite his best efforts to keep it calm. Yes, there was something completely different about this thing and all the demons Jason faced in his life.

Cautiously, he rose to his feet. His efforts to mask his movements were rendered useless as Talon heard him. The slight cocking of his head in Jason's direction was a dead giveaway of that. He had to resist the intense urge to try and brutalize the assassin who faced away from him. It wouldn't end well, he knew that much. The small amount of satisfaction he'd gain from landing a few hits wouldn't outweigh whatever the repercussions would be. Personally, Jason would prefer to be stabbed but Talon seemed to have a fondness for causing mental and emotional wounds. That was something he had no desire to endure at all.

Jason noticed that the only exit that wasn't boarded over was right beside Talon. Of course. He doubted that was a coincidence. Sure, he could try to make a break for it but he highly doubted he'd make it out before being dragged back in. To make matters worse, Jason was still missing his arsenal of weapons and tools that had been stripped of him while unconscious. He flexed his hands, sorely wishing for a gun or something to defend himself with, no matter how useless. This feeling of being totally exposed and helpless was something Jason absolutely loathed. No matter what he's gone through, the horrors he's triumphed and training he went through, he was still the victim. It was driving the man completely insane.

There was a fury in his steely gaze that he was positive Dick could feel. If looks could kill, his captor would most assuredly be nothing but ashes from the glare penetrating his back. It was with a certain degree of reluctance that Jason turned that angered glare from the black-clad man to sweep over the room in a more meticulous examination. Letting the crazed killer out of his sight wasn't something he was particularly keen on doing. However, he needed to find his gear and he couldn't exactly do that while trying to burn a hole through the back of the other man's skull.

Now that he wasn't panicking he was able to take note of a few more key details. All the windows but one had been boarded up, the lighting was purposefully dim to the point of near blackness, and there was an array of vicious looking blades of many forms lining the tops of boxes near Talon's little nest. What had appeared to be brown blankets were in reality white blankets completely covered in stains. It didn't take the world's greatest detective to guess where those brownish stains came from. The thought of just how many bodies it took to get that much residual blood was baffling. The analytical side of him was legitimately curious just how many DNA samples he could get from one swipe across the cloth.

He spotted his weapons and belt sitting out in the open on a weathered desk near Talon. Jason was mentally weighing whether or not he really needed those items or if he should take his chances. It was a short-lived thought, as he knew Talon had very purposefully placed them where he could see but not quite reach without getting near the assassin. All these false little windows of opportunity only added to Jason's growing resentment. That asshole was toying with him to see if he'd fall for those traps. Jason clenched his jaw in frustration as he swiped his now scratched helmet from the floor. Just as he was about to slide it back on, Talon's quiet voice cut through the air.

"Don't."

Jason paused, helm above his head, and stared at the assassin. Then, he took notice of the piercing yellow eyes in the dim reflection of a mirror so grimy it could almost pass as part of the wall. Had it not been for the tell-tale golden glow he wouldn't have even noticed that Talon was watching him. He'd been watching this whole time. Jason locked eyes through the dirtied reflection and gave a defiant sneer before forcefully putting the helmet on. All systems blinked on as the suit reconnected with its missing piece. There was a somewhat entertained look on the killer's otherwise blank features.

"Robins never were very good at following orders."

That made Jason's lips twist in an irritated scowl. He hated that Dick kept bringing it back to that. Robin. The argument 'I'm not Robin' sat heavy on his tongue, waiting to come out again. It was useless. To this bastard he'd always be Robin. Once a bird, always a bird. Jason could almost swear that the carved R on his chest was mocking him. He stomped heavily toward Talon, who still faced the wall but tracked him through the mirror. Jason wasn't quite sure whether he was drawing closer to punch the frustrating man, to grab his gear, or just try to jump out the window. Perhaps a daring combination of all three, though not quite in that order.

He came to a slow halt as his eyes landed on the section of wall Talon was covering. All thoughts of escape and his supplies left his head. Carved crudely into the wood was a long list of names; some were already scratched out. Jason read the list and recognized quite a few, if not only from word of mouth. He knew what this list was but the thought that Dick made a hit list, no matter how demonic he's become, was almost unfathomable. It just didn't quite connect. He found himself questioning it without thinking.

"What the hell is this?"

He mentally facepalmed for asking the stupidly obvious. Truthfully, he half expected to hear a witty 'my shopping list, obviously' or something equally dumb. Instead, that ravenous stare was back on him full-blast. There was no response at first, just an uncomfortable silence. Then, Dick spoke in that unsettling arctic whisper.

"The damned."

Had it been the old times, when Dick was still Nightwing and Jason was Robin, Jason would have snarked back about Bruce's melodramatics rubbing off on the older boy. But these weren't the old times and those soft words left his gut churning. It wasn't what he said but how he said it that got under Jason's skin. There was such unmistakable malignance in his tone that even Batman would be chilled to the core. Rather than linger on the discomfort, he kept reading the list. There was one break in the names, a section that looked like it'd been hacked at. There was no hope of reading what name had been there. The curiosity ate at Jason, but he continued on. It was a varied list, going from super villains to people Jason would have marked as average Joes. His eyebrows rose once he hit one name in particular.

"Slade Wilson. You're gonna try to kill Deathstroke?"

That unsettling stare turned sharp, nearly vicious, at the surprise in Jason's voice. He almost backtracked from that look alone.

"He wronged me. I will kill him."

Jason let out a low whistle at the sheer level of spite in his words. He knew all about the feud between his brother and the super-assassin. Who didn't? The fights between the two, particularly when Dick had been Robin, were something of legends among teen heroes. Now that Dick was turned into this, he almost pitied Slade. Almost. Whatever Hell he brought upon himself was completely deserved. As his eyes swept back to the list, he couldn't help but wonder just what the rest had done to deserve it as well. 'Catalina Flores, where have I heard that name before?'

"If this is everyone that wronged you, I gotta say I'm surprised the list ain't bigger."

Making enemies in their line of work, well, previous line of work was laughably easy. What hero didn't have their scars? It was meant as a joke, but the look he got in return made the light tone wither on his lips.

"It was."

Talon pushed a box that was sitting on a table. Jason's gaze fell onto the now exposed portion of the wall and that sickening feeling returned. Names lined the paneling, all scratched out. Many were from Gotham's elite that Jason never bothered to look into. He hardly pegged them as criminals. Then there were others; Elaine Marsh-Morton - otherwise known as Lady Vic or Lady Victim, and Tom and Tad Trigger - The Trigger Twins, Dudley Soames, Shrike, Guillermo Barrera, Randy Hanrahan, Giz, Mouse. All noted criminals and assassins. All crossed out. The list of scratched out names went on and on. It flooded to the next panel and ended at the next target: Harvey Dent. It wasn't too surprising, given how the madman had tortured Dick when he was Robin.

He was impressed by the body count Talon was able to rack up without drawing attention to himself. Hell, Jason was part of the underground scene and he never heard so much as a whisper of someone murdering others left and right. Sure, he heard word that some of the more notable people, like Lady Vic, were dead but nothing else on the topic. No one ever connected them together. To find out it was all Dick fucking Grayson that killed them? He's pretty sure his brain shorted out for a few moments trying to process it.

"I almost added you."

Jason had to force himself not to jump at the unexpected words. While he'd been focused on piecing everything together, Talon had slipped uncomfortably close. He was all but looming at this point. If Jason's armor didn't cover him so completely, he's pretty sure he'd be able to feel Talon's breath on his neck. Then, what Talon said caught up with him. He resisted the urge to step away from the eerie assassin. Dick seemed to notice this hesitation and spoke again.

"But I don't want you dead."

There was an unspoken 'yet' at the end of his sentence, Jason could feel it. He couldn't decide whether those words were meant to be comforting or a warning.

"Y'know, that's not as reassuring as a 'But I couldn't kill you'."

Again, it was meant as a joke, and again that look was all too serious. No matter how familiar the voice, he had to remember this wasn't the man he knew. It was a monster, as was evident by the cold stare he got in return. The silence that greeted his words was all he needed to know. This...this shadow of Dick Grayson could kill him and not feel an ounce of remorse. Jason promptly ignored all the reasons that hurt. He could still feel that heartless gaze on him as he returned to staring at the list. There were names Jason expected to see but didn't. In fact, it infuriated him just a bit that a certain name wasn't on his brother's list.

"I don't see Joker here."

There was no hiding the ire in his words. All these names and Joker - fucking Joker - wasn't deemed worthy of Talon's time. It pissed him off more than just a little bit. His fists clenched tight as he tried to reign in his temper; his hurt. There was another beat of silence before Talon spoke.

"Not mine to kill, not mine to add."

He then pointed at the section of wall that looked like it'd been hacked at. It was clear now that it had been Joker's name on the wall. Any response Jason had came to a halt as he was presented with a wicked looking knife. He got a pointed look from the assassin, making his intentions very clear. It was to be Jason's vengeance and so Jason should carve his name. He stared at the blade in surprise while Talon continued on.

"I was going to torture him. Drag out every last inch of his life then slaughter him like the swine he is. ...Then, I found out you still lived."

That rage fizzled out under the confusing assortment of bewilderment and, as much as he'd deny it, happiness. Despite the frigid, impersonal tone and former treatment, Jason couldn't help but be a little pleased someone was going to avenge him. He didn't doubt the assassin's words in the slightest. Given his possessiveness up until this point, it'd align just right for him to seek out the one who killed 'his Little Wing'. Jason took the blade and traced his free hand over a blank spot on the wall. He let out a slow breath then dug the dagger in. Each stroke of the blade was slow and deliberate. A bit of hate flowed into every line. As that hate and anger mounted, the gouges grew deeper. When the name was complete, it was cut further into the wood than any other. He had to yank out the blade at the end of the 'R'.

Teal eyes glared at the name and the dagger trembled in his grip. This must be why Dick chose to carve the names rather than write them down. It was much more intimate; made one really remember why they were on the list. In a spur of rage, Jason sliced yet another name into the wall beneath Joker. He could remember her high pitched laughter and nasally voice just as well as the Jokers. She was as guilty as him and she'd pay. 'HARLEY QUINN'. He grit his teeth as he glared at the names. His fury was evident in the growing choppiness of the lettering. It was less meticulous in style and fueled by his emotions. The memories dredged up brought with them the familiar heat of wrath and hate. It caused him to quake from the sudden onslaught. He all but snarled as he slammed the dagger back into the wood, carving even more names. Everyone that hurt him would feel his pain tenfold.

All the while, Talon watched silently. He was curious as to who would be sentenced to death by his little brother next. There were names he didn't recognize and names he did, like Sal Maroni. The list was not nearly as extensive as his own, but the sheer resentment that went into each stroke and letter could almost even the gap. As reluctant as Jason had been to cooperate in the beginning, Talon knew they could work well together on this. They would.

Jason took a step back from the wall and let out a low breath. The animosity still poisoned his veins, but he felt a little lighter marking those names down. It'd feel even better once those names had lines through them, he just knew it. It would calm some of his inner demons to rid the world of those scum. With Talon's help, he knew they'd all fall. So, why did it feel like he just made a pact with the Devil?

There was still one name he's yet to mark down. It would have been two, but he doubted Talon would appreciate his attempts to add Tim Drake to the list of the damned. That thought made his temper flare just a bit more. Having to spare his replacement just because Dick was obscenely possessive sent spikes of frustration through his nerves. He ground his teeth and gripped the handle of the dagger a little firmer. Then, he started to add that last name, the hardest one to write. The one that he would have given his life for and almost had. The one that failed him. Bruce Wayne. Jason didn't get further than 'BRUCE' before his forearm was caught in an unforgiving grip.

"No."

He looked at Talon with something akin to betrayal at being stopped. Tim he could understand. He didn't like it, but he understood. Bruce though?

"What the hell, Dick? After everything that's happened to us you're just going to let him go?! He deserves to be on this damn list! He needs to pay for his failures!"

The words were spat out with such venom, it was nearly enough to hide the pain that lingered under the surface. The slight crack in his tone near the end didn't help his situation. There was still no reaction to his torment or anger. Then, Dick calmly moved his hand to cover Jason's own hold on the hilt.

"Death isn't justice. It isn't vengeance. It's solace. Justice and vengeance? They come before death."

The way he spoke, so soft yet so unbelievably vicious, caused a chill to run down Jason's spine. Then, he moved the dagger under both their command and began to carve a new name.

"You want Bruce to suffer? He will suffer."

'B'

"He will beg and plead for the children he forsook."

'A'

"He will be reminded how he failed. Every. Single. Day."

'T'

"We will face him but we will not offer forgiveness."

'M'

"We will break him but we will not offer solace."

'A'

"Death would be kind, Jason."

'N'

"I am not kind."

Jason stood enraptured by his voice, envisioning what he spoke of. There was a dark, damning promise to his words that filled the younger man with a sick sort of glee. Originally, he wanted to just end Bruce's life for leaving him in the caverns of Arkham but this? This would be so much better. The utter iciness of Talon's hate contrasted so wildly against the searing heat of Jason's own animosity. Combined, the two could surely bring ruin to anyone and anything in their path. The plan he had started shifting to accommodate the ideas now planted in his head. Jason spoke low and slow, voicing the thoughts as they formed.

"We kill the bat and leave the man."

Bruce is his real mask, not the cowl. To be left with only 'Brucie' would certainly be a hell of his own making. And to know it's all because of the sons he forgot and replaced? That would definitely destroy him. 'If he even cares at all.' The invasive thought couldn't help but crop up. Jason was still utterly convinced Bruce felt nothing for them other than their shelf life and how useful they could be. Being forced to live every single day seeing the weapons he cultivated turned against him would be so delicious. Yes, Jason could see the merit of Talon's plan on leaving him alive.

The assassin watched the thoughts rolling through his brother's head with interest. He gave a slight nod at Jason's words. It was what he intended on doing. Destroy the legend of Batman, leave nothing but ashes in their wake. It would torment their 'father'. He could hardly live without the cowl and cape. They would strip him down, hollow him out and leave him cold, just like he left them to be.

"He'll know the pain of being left with a face that isn't truly his."

Talon's tone was acrid in its loathing. The two looked at each other, taking note of the disfigurations that marred the other, making them almost strangers. Dick's distortions were far more severe, but Jason was marked so cruelly by his tormenter that he could hardly stomach his own reflection on good days. What happened to the two was tragic. What they planned to do to Bruce will be anathema. A cruel smirk curled up Jason's lips. The day of reckoning was drawing near and he couldn't wait to watch them all burn.

He was drawn from his musings by Dick taking his dagger back. Why he needed all those knives on him, Jason still didn't know. He was a living weapon with fucking claws. Then again, he liked to pack an excessive amount of weapons himself. Maybe it was a comfort to feel that much more protected. Though if he were being truthful, Talon gave off a vibe that it was just to have more ways to kill people. Really, he had no room to judge.

The assassin then handed Jason his equipment back. It was a bit of a shock but he quietly took the peace offering. At least, that's how Jason thought Talon was offering them to him. A sort of olive branch. He woke up here despising Talon and would leave here feeling something close to camaraderie with the killer. Those cold, cruel words still echoed in the back of his mind, warning him not to become complacent near Dick. 'By my name you lived, Little Wing. By my name, you'll die.'

Jason holstered his guns and clipped on his belt, feeling safer in his full Arkham Knight regalia. When Talon placed a guiding hand on his shoulder, it felt like the cold hand of death gripping him. He motioned toward the window and gave an almost feral look.

"The sun is setting. We have hunting to do."

He didn't miss the fact that Talon didn't ask if he wanted to hunt with him, but rather issued it like a command. Jason gave a sigh as he checked his comms and messages. His men were a bit frantic that he went missing, especially after receiving such a grotesque 'gift'. He radioed over to Bax to let the man know their commander was fine. Then, he turned his attention to the waiting assassin. Talon was perched on the window sill staring at him, owl mask firmly in place. His pose was almost achingly similar to how Dick used to perch at the edge of ledges, just on the balls of his feet and teetering dangerously. It was yet another reminder that no matter how heinously different he was now, there were still some Grayson mannerisms left in the man.

"I've got to get back to base. My men are freaking out since some people can't talk to others without kidnapping them."

He took a cautious step toward the window, testing the waters. Jason wasn't sure how this crueler version of Dick would take his disobedience. If Talon let him out, then that'd be great. It'd mean he wasn't as freakishly controlling as Jason was led to believe. If he didn't let him out? Well, there wasn't too much he could do about that but follow his previous orders, was there? He was mentally rooting for the former but expecting the latter. Talon gave that strange little head tilt and made no effort to move from the sill. Jason was forced to come to a halt before the assassin. A frustrated noise rumbled in his throat at the lack of cooperation from Dick.

"Seriously, I need to go. We can 'hunt' some other time. I have shit I need to do."

What was meant to be forceful came out a little closer to a plea than he would have liked. There was a beat of silence and neither moved. Then, Talon grabbed him by his armor and yanked him forward with more force than Jason was expecting. He was only just able to choke back the startled noise from slipping out as he steadied himself. In reflex, he grabbed for his weapons but didn't fully unholster them. No need to rile up the crazy undead killing machine after they just got on friendly-ish terms. Dick pulled him so close, their masks nearly touched. The vicious, almost ravenous edge to his voice had Jason swallowing in fear.

"Go. Settle your business. Look at the flash drive. After that, we will hunt."

There was no room left for argument in those selfish, hellish words. He found himself nodding in agreement with the terms. Jason could deal with a compromise. It was honestly more than he was expecting from Dick at this point. Talon shoved him away with the same amount of force, nearly causing Jason to trip over his own feet. Then, he leapt from the window with the same enviable grace that left all who saw in awe of the last of the Flying Graysons.

A shaky breath came from Jason as he attempted to calm his spiking nerves. This had not gone like he planned at all. After one last look around the room with a pause to re-read the names, Jason made his own escape. It was going to be a long night, that was for sure. He had to figure out what the hell to do about Scarecrow now that Talon threw himself into the mix. That could wait until the more immediate problems were addressed, though. There were men to sort out, orders to give, and, most importantly, a flash drive to examine.