Chapter Text
The boy looks very different from the last time Ra's saw him.
Once blue eyes now shine gold, with pupils slitted like a cat's. His tan skin carries an ashy gray color, with black veins that creep up his cheeks and down his neck before vanishing under the collar of the leather uniform he wears. A uniform lined with knives and other weapons, far more lethal than Ra's is sure the boy's mentor would approve of.
There's no reaction to being in Ra's' presence, either. No anger at standing before an enemy, no wariness at being in the center of a villain's home base. No, Dick Grayson stands in the center of the League of Assassins placidly, looking completely unconcerned by the fact that he's found himself here. By whom he's found himself with.
Then again, many things must have changed in recent years, considering his new look and the blades littering his person. Maye it really isn't worth any note to him, being here with Ra's.
Ra's has to admit to being curious. Richard and the detective have had their issues over the years, most definitely, but Nightwing still remains very firmly a hero, very firmly a follower of Bruce's code. He has had countless opportunities to leave it behind, to pick up a blade and form his own kind of justice or even abandon it all together, and yet still he stayed true.
So what happened? What turned the first Robin into this...creature before him? And how exactly did he end up with Talia?
"Is an explanation going to be forthcoming?" Ra's asks, raising an eyebrow at his daughter. She stands next to Richard, looking perfectly relaxed and unbothered by the situation to the world at large, but Ra's knows her better than that. He can see the tension in her shoulders, the hesitancy in being here at all. Ra's wonders if she tried to argue with herself to not bring the boy here—bad memories of the last time a son of the detective was brought to him, perhaps?
"It appears that the Court of Owls got their hands on Richard," Talia says, tone clipped.
Ah, yes, that does make all this make sense. The Court of Owls, a ridiculous but dangerous organization that made its home in Gotham City. Ra's has never had the displeasure to encounter them personally, or any of their 'Talons', but he knows the assassins are modified and enhanced, turned into the perfect weapon. Near invulnerable and exceptionally loyal. The perfect soldier.
"So you're an assassin now, hm?" Ra's asks, directing his question to Richard. "My, I wonder what the detective might think of that."
Richard doesn't reply. His eyes flick to Talia, his weight shifts from one foot to the other, but not a word. Ra's looks to his daughter as well, awaiting further explanation.
"He doesn't speak," Talia offers. "I haven't seen any damage to his vocal cords or his tongue, so I believe that it is due to something the Court did to him—trained his voice out of him, I assume."
"Understandable," Ra's says with amusement. Nightwing is well-known for his quips and insults, after all. Ra's can't imagine the boy acting any differently to his new masters, especially if he was taken against his will—they probably tortured his voice out of him as soon as possible. Who wants an assassin that talks back, after all?
"He also is lacking in memory," Talia adds, voice tight, and Ra's resist the urge to give her a condescending look; honestly, he taught her to control herself better than this—if she's unhappy with putting Richard in Ra's' path like this, then she should keep it on the inside far better.
Though it is good to know that her loyalty remains strong enough that she brought Richard to him despite her misgivings. Her sentimentality for the detective continues to take second place, as it should.
"Is that so," Ra's murmurs, looking at Richard intently.
No memory. That could be incredibly useful—Richard was already one of the best in his field before all this, and Ra's doubts spending time as an assassin has done anything but enhance those skills. And with no recollection of the Bat or his morals, no memory of his years of service, his only knowledge that of working as a killer—yes, Ra's could make use of this indeed.
Richard is a blank, dangerous slate. Ra's sees no reason to turn down such an opportunity.
Ra's gets to his feet, walking down the short dais and then forward until he stands in front of the boy. He towers over him, half a foot taller, but Richard doesn't flinch back, lifting his head placidly to meet Ra's' gaze.
"You don't speak, but assumedly they left you with some way to communicate. So, do you know who you are?" Ra's asks.
The boy hesitates, eyes flicking over to Talia once more, and isn't that interesting. Did they bond already? And how did Talia manage to convince a brainwashed assassin to leave with her instead of returning to his masters? Information he will need for her to give up to him.
Richard lifts a hand and wiggles it back and forth, then immediately moves into motions that Ra's recognizes as American Sign Language. "I'm a Talon for the Court of Owls. Talia told me my name is Richard."
Ra's waits for more, and then cocks an eyebrow. "Is that all?"
Another hesitation, and then his hands move more stiltingly when he says, "She said I'm safe now."
Ra's lips curve upward. That's almost adorable. He imagines the boy's life hasn't exactly been the most peaceful of existences lately, nor does he think the Court was filled with kind masters, but 'safe' truly is a subjective idea, and Ra's has no intention of leaving a fully-trained weapon sitting by the fire drinking tea when he could be putting him to work.
But he won't torture him, no, there's no need for that. Talia has clearly domesticated the boy, and the Court before her, so there won't be any need for training or conditioning. Richard is fine just the way he is—a perfectly loyal assassin, everything that made him a hero carved right out of him. So yes, in that regard, Richard is safe. There will be no whips or chains or beatings. As long as he does as he's bid, Ra's sees no reason to treat him poorly.
"You'll be staying here now," Ra's says, mind made up. "I won't harm you; you'll be treated well. All I ask in exchange is your loyalty. You do as you're commanded—is that understood?"
Richard nods without hesitation. Yes, Ra's supposes that is something the boy would understand down to his core at the moment—obedience. The Court would accept nothing less. Neither will Ra's.
"Good," Ra's says. He waves a hand at one of his men standing by the door, and the assassin steps forward, waiting for orders. "Escort Richard to one of our open living quarters."
"Yes, Master," the assassin replies, inclining his head in respect. He turns to the door, looking expectantly at Richard, who leaves without another word and just one final glance towards Talia.
Once the pair are gone, Ra's walks over to the table and picks up the waiting bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass. "Tell me."
Talia's lips thin, but she doesn't argue. "It seems Nightwing has been missing for a year and a half; Bruce and his ilk have been searching, but obviously to no avail."
"Do you know why the Court took him?"
It could easily be for the simple reason that Richard Grayson is an extremely skilled individual and the Court decided to take advantage of a hypercompetent combatant right there in their own backyard. But organizations like these tend to have very specific goals and needs, and that often means dictating who gets to be involved in any capacity. There must've been something about Richard that made the Court want him in particular.
"They called him their 'Gray Son'," Talia says, very deliberately separating the two syllables of the boy's last name. "I'm not sure what that truly means to them, but it seemed important. A legacy, of some sort."
Hm, interesting. Something to look into, maybe. Did Bruce know about this legacy when he took Richard in? He is the type to do something like that, offer a random child his protection if he didn't believe their destiny was just.
"And here he is with you instead of running back to his masters."
Talia easily hears the question in his statement. "The Court sent him after me—we fought. He's good; Richard always has been, but the lethality to him now makes him far more dangerous. I gained the upper hand and killed him. When I removed his mask, I saw that it was Nightwing, and it wasn't long after that that his abilities brought him back."
Strong enough regenerative capabilities to restore life? With anyone else, Ra's would ask if they were sure that they'd actually killed the Talon, but he knows his daughter—she would not make such an idiotic mistake. So Richard can actually heal from death. How interesting. Ra's has to admit that he wants to test it.
"I convinced him to leave with me," Talia says shortly. "And we came here."
Ra's narrows his eyes, considering. Talia is so obviously leaving something out—how, precisely, did she manage to convince a brainwashed assassin to leave with her?—but he decides to let it go for the moment. Pressing her right now doesn't seem the best path. He'll leave her be for now, allow her to believe he's letting it go. Push further once she's lost some of that tension that still clings to her.
"Good work," Ra's compliments, and Talia's eyes flick suspiciously over to him before she inclines her head in thanks. "Richard will be a very useful asset to us like this."
"Yes, I thought so." Her words and tone are careless, but she can't completely disguise her distaste for it all. How close, Ra's wonders, did Talia come to bringing Richard right back to the detective? Or even sequestering him somewhere far away from Ra's' reach?
She made the right decision, though. That's what matters. Richard is here now, ready and willing to do Ra's' bidding, to carry out the will of the League.
It's amusing to think that Richard was in Gotham the entire time, right under Bruce's nose as the detective surely searched tirelessly for his eldest son. So many people are dedicated to this boy, Ra's knows. So many people who probably have spent countless days and nights trying to find what happened to him.
Something to use in the future, definitely. For now Ra's will keep this to himself, use Richard for his own purposes, but one day his connection to the Bats might come in handy. Memory or not, shell of the person he was or not, this weapon carries the face of a man beloved by many. A useful thing to have in Ra's' back pocket.
"Good work, daughter," Ra's says again, turning away to dismiss her. "We'll talk more in the morrow."
The first thing Ra's does after entering the room is snap Richard's neck.
The boy holds still as Ra's approaches him, stance something resembling parade rest, gaze level as he watches Ra's get closer. No tensing of muscles, no wary looks, just calm placidity. Maybe a small amount of curiosity wrapped in there as well.
He doesn't move when Ra's grabs him. Doesn't blink or flinch. His face barely even grimaces when Ra's' hands tighten and twist.
Richard crumples to the ground in a pile of limbs, dead. His head hangs at an awkward angle, golden eyes sightless. Ra's watches dispassionately, glancing at the clock on the wall, counting the time.
Eight seconds pass, and there's a small cracking sound. Another quickly follows it, and another, and then Richard's neck is moving back into position, his spine realigning, torn ligaments rejoining. His eyes close for a long moment, and then blink back open, and he looks up at Ra's. He seems dazed for barely a moment, and then he's forcing himself into a seated position and back to his feet, rolling his neck as he resettles back into livelihood.
Remarkable. Less than twenty seconds and Richard is perfectly fine, standing there in front of him like he hadn't been killed only moments earlier. The regenerative capabilities in that is extraordinary, not to mention the mental training he must have gone through in order to get himself back together so quickly.
How many times, Ra's wonders, did the Court kill him in order to train that into him? How many violent deaths, to leave Richard so perfectly unaffected by it now? They did a truly brilliant job creating this weapon.
"You just let me kill you," Ra's says idly, tilting his head. "Why?"
It's been about a day since Richard arrived at Nanda Parbat with Talia. The boy has made no attempts to leave—neither to go to his old masters nor to the Bats—instead remaining quiet and unobtrusive, completely obedient. He fights who Ra's commands he fight in order to see his skills, he eats what Ra's puts in front of him, he goes where Ra's tells him to go, he wears what Ra's tells him to wear.
And now he stood there and allowed Ra's to deal a killing blow—Ra's wants to know if Richard is simply broken enough to follow the order of anyone he comes across, or if there's something else going on here. If he actually has decided to switch his allegiance to Ra's. And, if so, why exactly. Was the boy's previous life so miserable that following Ra's al Ghul's every command actually seems preferable?
Possibly. But Ra's would like to know for sure.
Richard tilts his head. After a moment, his hands lift and he signs, "You didn't tell me to move. You've been giving me tests all day. I knew I'd recover."
Watching Richard speak is always an interesting thing. His signing is elegant, fluid from years of use, but there's an awkwardness to him whenever he responds that shows how unusual it is for him to communicate these days. Any time Ra's asks him a question there's a pause, like Richard is still wondering if Ra's actually wants a response from him.
Did the Court just never need him to speak to them? Did they truly treat him as nothing more than a weapon? After all, you don't speak to your blade or your gun—or your Talon, apparently. Ra's' men are trained to be silent, but not mute; they still acknowledge him, still call him 'master' and respond to his questions, verbalize their agreement. Subservience, but of a human variety. It seems the Court didn't care much for the human element.
"Did your old masters do this often?" Ra's asks.
Richard's lips twist, before his face smooths into something perfectly blank. "The Court enjoyed testing my regeneration in many ways."
What a diplomatic way to say they killed him over and over again for fun.
Ra's hums his acknowledgement. "And how many people have you killed for them?"
"Thirty-eight."
An impressive number. One that would surely make the detective unhappy. Hm, what would be Bruce's stance on his undead protégé? Richard only committed these crimes because he was kidnapped and brainwashed, but Bruce can be rather forceful about his one rule—would he make the distinction between killing for choice and being forced into it? Something to explore, maybe.
"Have you ever encountered the Batman?" Richard shakes his head. "What have you been told about him?"
"He's the Court's enemy. Talia knows him personally."
Ra's nods. "Both true. You knew him personally as well, Richard. He was your first teacher."
Curiosity sparks in Richard's eyes, his desire for more information clear. Richard's mind has been a blank slate of who he was before the Court, who he is at all outside of their will. He must be desperate for information, even if he can't bring himself to ask for it. Ra's doubts his conditioning allows for random questions.
"Why did you decide to leave with Talia?" Ra's asks next.
The curiosity dims, but the disappointment at the lack of more information about his past is immediately covered under that now-familiar placidity. "She was kind."
Ra's raises an eyebrow. "Is that all? My daughter was kind so you abandoned your masters?"
Richard's eyes drop to the ground with something like shame. "They—hurt me. All the time. Even when I obeyed. So much pain. Talia saved me."
There's a thread of loyalty there to Talia that could be dangerous going forward; Ra's is going to have to nip that in the bud as soon as possible. But it's also very good to know that whatever Talia might've said, whatever happened, it really does boil down that simply for the boy—Richard as he is now must have an even higher value on kindness than even his normal self did, if he was willing to follow Talia like a duckling just for a few crumbs. After all, it's not like Talia is the most affectionate of individuals—Ra's should have no trouble keeping Richard's loyalty here at the League if that's all it takes.
"Do you want to stay here?" Ra's asks out of curiosity.
Richard's gaze lifts again, locking onto Ra's'. "I don't know. I don't think it's a matter of wanting." A pause, and then he adds, "I'm here."
The words seem to have meaning for Richard, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly, and Ra's doesn't try to pry into it. He got the confirmation he needs—Richard, as of now, has no intention of leaving. It probably didn't even cross his mind. Talia brought him here, and so here he will stay. Ra's will continue to solidify that.
"You are," Ra's agrees. "And you'll be cared for, if you obey."
Richard nods, and then leaves his head inclined, eyes lowering submissively. "Yes, Master."
Ra's smiles. Yes, this truly will be quite useful.