Chapter Text
It took a great amount of will and pressure not to flinch as he heard the screaming start. He couldn't flinch, flinching was a sign of weakness. The Court of Owls did not tolerate weakness. Apparently the screaming was a mistake, because it only started up again seconds after it stopped. He could not look, they would not allow him to look up, they would not allow him to prepare himself. He needed to do this on his own, but under the command of the Court. If he looked up, the torture would be worse than anything the previous Talon in front of him was going through.
The screaming stopped, a rapid panting taking its place. He heard what could have been muffled sobs, but he did not dare to look up. He could offer no words of comfort, not when he felt no comfort himself. He stiffened as he felt something cold and sharp press against his chest, but other than that tried not to react. Apparently the torturer did not like his initial reaction, because he pressed the blade in deeply without warning, slicing a wound that had Dick mentally howling. That was what he did, that's where he released his pain. They had trained him well.
The pain was unbearable. It was a poison, designed to harm the Talons should they disobey their masters - in this case go against the rules. He shall not flinch, he shall not feel, he shall not scream, he will obey and kill who the Court commands. Dick would like to say he was sickened by how easy it felt to kill, but he couldn't. Emotions had long ago been tortured out of him, during the 'Endurance' level of training. Most potential Talons did not survive that, but Dick did, and he had the scars to prove it. They littered his entire body, a constant remember of who he was, what he was. He was a Talon that served the Court of Owls, and the Court only.
There was no warning before the blade was digging into his thigh, obviously intent on taking him down. The torturer had almost succeeded as well, but the wound on his chest - which had yet to heal due to it being a Talon blade* - was enough to keep him standing. It felt like it had him pinned there, fire consuming the small slit and spreading down to his knees. He shut his eyes, it was the most he could do.
I shall not flinch, I shall not feel, I shall not scream, I will obey the Court.
He heard a chuckle, and then the sound of a whip and his torturer’s pained scream. He knew why. The torturer was to show no emotion, delight or disdain, at what he or she was doing. At least Talons had free range to do that while torturing, it showed their true colors, the blood-thirsty mess that made them up.
"Talon," Dick felt his head snap up, so quick that something in his neck cricked. A guard was watching them with emotionless eyes, "Come with me." Dick blinked in confusion. The guards rarely spoke to the Talons, much less ordered them around, which meant the guard was taking him to the Court.
Dick tried not to shake and made sure to triple check that he was not showing any pain, even if he felt it like someone was branding a hot iron onto his leg and chest. A large Owl statue in a pure white room greeted them, and Dick automatically felt himself shudder - it was no matter to be punished, the guard had shuddered to. He quickly led them out of the room - the labyrinth - and down a hallway towards magnificent grand doors which took up the entire wall. Gulping, the guard opened the doors, announcing them both in a firm voice. The room looked like a courthouse... fitting, except everything was bathed in white, and there was no podium or trial stands. Dick was left standing in the middle of the stares of fifty different masked humans, who seemed to be gods in their own ways. Perhaps it was the Owl mask, that allowed no emotion to shine, or their lanky, pale limbs due to living in the sewers, or, the way they carried themselves, like they were the ones in control... which they were. Dick hated and admired the Court. I hate them, yet I feel devotion - admiration - and I do not know why. It was wrong to hate them, they gave him... well, life wasn't exactly the word. They killed him before he turned twenty, still nineteen at the time, he lost count of the years after that. It's just... they were all he knew.
He fell to one knee and bowed, not meeting the gazes of the Court, but he could feel them penetrating his skin. His knee and chest were rubbing awkwardly against each other, only increasing the agitation.
"Talon," that is what they called him, not Dick. In fact, Dick was even starting to question if his name had ever been Dick, or if it had always just been Talon. Or... was it the other way around? He blinked rapidly to banish these thoughts. They appeared sometimes when he didn't expect it, like his brain was foggy or in a blender. His memories became mixed jumbles.
I've always been with the Court.
No I haven't.
My name is Dick Grayson.
No it isn't.
I'm broken.
No, I'm useful.
I'm not human anymore.
That last one was where his mental debating stopped, because he wasn't human anymore. Humanity had long been stripped away during his stay at the Court, and any shred left died the day the Court killed him. He remembered it clear as day, the pain as they stabbed him in the chest with a needle that would put Moby Dick's thermometer to shame. Then he woke up, freezing despite the warmth that usually accompanied the Court's sewers. He grew more partial to the warm training room of the Talons. He did not sweat. He had tried not to look into a mirror, but it was eventually inevitable, and he had stood staring at his reflection for a good hour. The serum they had injected into him ever since he was a young, innocent boy at the circus lit blue veins up his neck and towards his pale cheeks. He was never pale. He was half-Romani, he had naturally dark skin. The thing that bothered him - if you could call it that - the most was his eyes. They had always been a blue, clear color, according to Jason - or was it someone else? Wait, who was Jason? His eyes were "the bluest fucking eyes in the world". Now they were pure yellow, glinting in the faint light. He...looked like a predator. There was no other word for it. He had stumbled back, still staring at his face, before fleeing the room.
"We need you to eliminate a threat to us," said the Court, snapping him out of his memories. "His name is Jason Todd."
Dick blinked.
Jason!
Who's Jason?
Of course....
"I will do as you ask," Dick looked up for the first time and unbent his knee, standing up straight. "Where is he?"
One of the Owls seemed amused. "He is lost."
"Lost?" Dick echoed.
"He was in New York, and was then pursued into Gotham. Bringing with him Ra’s al-Ghul and the assassins he has hired to bring Todd to him. They threaten us, they have already tried settling near us. Kill the source, and they will all go away. Kill Jason Todd, and we will once again be at peace."
Dick bowed again, "I will do as you ask, my Masters."
Dick blended into the shadows perfectly, crouching on a fire-escape and looking at his target as he ran. There was something familiar about him...
Focus on your prey. Do not let him get away! Dick shocked himself out of his stupor and mentally berated himself, flinging to another rooftop with a mighty leap, before bouncing off the edge, doing a triple front flip, and landing straight in front of the man. Two blades were in both of his hands within seconds. "Jason Todd," Dick managed to get out, "The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die."