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—V—
When Talon’s consciousness came to, it found itself in a location it hadn’t seen before. Well, it’d had seen rooms like this one, a bare prison cell with a small cot against the wall was an entirely standard place The Court used for punishing Talons or (on occasion) misbehaving Owls. But the baffling part of this enclosure was that it was so clean. No stains from its previous occupations, scratches on the walls of attempted departure, or even a scuff mark from an impatient Trainer.
As Talon took a second assessment of the room, it found it only had three true walls, with the fourth being made up of part glass and part prison bars. On the whole, it was much cleaner and nicer looking than it was used to, and not to mention warmer! It couldn’t be anywhere under 50 degrees Fahrenheit in here!
Now, Talon of course as a weapon could not feel emotions such as ‘relief’ and ‘contentment’, and if it could it would not be aloud to. But it could allow its sympathetic nervous system to calm down for the time being.
Its attention was diverted to something outside the bars, an older man with a black cape leaning over a lit up screen and an older teenager wearing red sitting in the chair pointing to something on it.
This Talon, “The Gray Son” as some of its Masters had called it, was considered to be one of the smarter Talons of The Court, as it made less mistakes and learned faster than most. With the cell it was in and the people outside, it deducted that it had been moved to a new faction of The Court and these were going to be its new Masters. Its last memories were of it in the freezing storage container (not like the nice warm ones that Talons got after receiving serious inquiries) when suddenly a gigantic explosion destroyed most of them, and a gas entered trough the cracked glass that then caused it to lose consciousness. It must have been moved to a new facility after the old one went kaboom.
Or perhaps it had been another of the weird fire drills The Court did sometimes.
Talon hadn’t noticed that its ears had been ringing until now. It strained to try and hear what its new Masters were discussing.
“-‘- -elling —, B! There —… possibility……one — these things!” (I’m telling you, B! There’s a possibility we can rehabilitate one of these things!)
“No, ……-een brainwashed….. you and Signal……that into my house.” (No, Cardinal. They have all been brainwashed for years now. I should have never let you and Signal talk me into bringing that into my house.)
Ah, this new facility must be in one of the Owl’s houses. Of course any Owl should be grateful that The Grandmaster would choose one of their properties, it should be an honor. But Talon could see how having many people encroaching onto one’s private space could be a little annoying; sometimes it had memories of being in a small moving room stuffed with straw and various animals and could relate to the claustrophobia. Upon considering it though, it immediately cut off that train of thought. Tools should not think unless their Masters tell them to.
The two at the computer continued their conversation for a little while until a smaller person came into the room. He had a black mask that only covered his eyes, a red, yellow, and black outfit with green gloves and boots, and spiked hair. He butted into the two’s conversation with a loud “Tt” sound as the older man put his arm around the younger one’s shoulder.
‘An Owlet?’ Talon thought excitedly, being very careful not to show it in its body language. It had been such a long time since it had last seen one of their small critters. Sometimes when not carrying out assassinations or forceful silencing, Talons would be sent to various Owls’ houses to look after their children, or Owlets. Talon was not supposed to like anything, but it could not help but feel a small feeling of euphoria the few times it’d be sent to one. Talon was very proud to say that it had only been locked in the freezer once due to not understanding the concept of babysitting and sitting on the kid’s back. As mentioned earlier, it was very smart for a Talon.
And okay, sure, sometimes the Owls’ children were less than angels and a group of them once ganged up and cut it to pieces, but it was fine! A little dismemberment was nothing to a Talon! A typical Tuesday, even!
…and while on that thought path, it had failed to listen to the conversation at hand. It wasn’t sure if it would be punished for not paying attention or for listening in when it wasn’t supposed to, but it figured it was important to soak in was much information in case it will be sent on an assignment.
In this distraction, Talon had failed to notice another person in the cave had seen it was awake. But it seems that its new masters hadn’t noticed either, as they all (save the Owlet) jumped when the broad man with a streak of white in his black hair and a red domino mask over his eyes bellowed out, “Hey B, Replacement, Demon Brat! The weird fu-freaking bird guy is awake, and your head is too far up your as-*cough* never mind, to notice!”
Talon almost had the urge to look around to see if it could spot the weird bird guy the man mentioned, but quickly realized that the man was likely referring to itself. It didn’t make complete sense, as Talons are not people and certainly not guys in the way he means, but Masters usually don’t make sense all the time.
Before the Talon could consider this further, there were suddenly people in the cell (more than it had been sure were in the cave) dragging it out and slapping some restraints on it. If Talon could feel, it would be very insulted at being restrained as if it would attempt to escape or lash out at its masters. It had learned those lessons long ago.
It was brought before the older man in black, likely the Grandmaster of the house here, near the screens. The younger master in red sitting in the seat slunk to the side of it, unconsciously trying to hide behind Grandmaster. Talon supposed he hadn’t seen any of the Talons before, as he should remember that he is above the Talon and has nothing to fear of it. The Owlet glared in its direction, as if daring it to try something.
Talon was careful to keep a neutral expression on its face. Masters hated when Talons pretended to project emotion or try and replicate what expressions its masters wore.
Grandmaster stood tall with his arms crossed across his chest, “You…do you know who you are?”
Talon felt confused, but didn’t move any muscles in its face to express this. Maybe Grandmaster was checking for memory damage? Its voice stayed monotone but firm as it responded: “Talon is one of the weapons made to serve and obey The Court of Owls.”
Grandmaster seemed tense before asking another question. “Hnn… Do you know who we are and where you are?”
Talon did not break eye contact with him. It was rude to not look at the Master you were reporting to, but sometimes it was also inappropriate to stare when you are not supposed to. “You are Owls of The Court, my masters, and Talon has been moved into an Owl’s personal house due to the destruction of The Storage Room.”
“Right…masters…” Grandmaster muttered to himself, as if the title felt wrong on him. “Do you know who destroyed the…Storage Room?”
Talon felt ashamed and wanted to shrink backwards in case it might be slapped, but was very careful not to show it. Masters hated when a Talon predicted what they would do or attempted to avoid punishment. “No, Talon was unable to get visuals on the culprits as Talon was unable to get out of storage to see before being gassed to unconscious. Talon will try and keep it from happening in the future.”
The younger master in red looked like he released a breath he’d been holding and lazily leaned back in the chair and muttered “Thank god he doesn’t know,” under his breath. He then let out a yep of pain as the Owlet shlonked him in the calf with his foot. After a quick glance at the scene happening to his side, Grandmaster continued the report. “That is alright, Talon. There was no way for you to get out of the coffin and you will not be punished for not doing the impossible. However, we expect from now on you listen and follow whatever we say as your new masters. The Court of Owls is currently…on shaky foundation and will not be in power for a while. If you are to come face to face with any other Owl of the Court, you are not to follow any of their orders because you are ours now. You are loyal to the members of this household and no other, do you understand?”
Ah, Talon could not feel hate as that is a feeling, but if it could it would say it hated when its old Grandmaster asked it to prove its loyalty to The Court. It was incredibly painful and many Talons accidentally got themselves decapitated when they tried, but The Gray Son was very experienced in this and fortunately knew how to do it properly. It had found earlier that its blades had been removed, but it found a sharp throwing star in the shape of the bat Grandmaster had on his chest laying on the screen’s desk.
Everyone else in the cave stepped back and braced themselves for an attack as it reached for the object, but Talon brought itself to its knees in front of Grandmaster and held the bat against its neck. “Understood. Talon is loyal to its masters and will serve them and only them, Grandmaster.” The sharp edge of the bat-like star was quickly pressed to its neck and in a quick motion tissue and bone were cut through with Talon’s head hanging only by a small strand. The surroundings were blurred and it couldn’t think properly, but the actions were all mussel memory at this point. Its hand grasped its head and pulled so the strand was taught but wouldn’t snap, making its head sort of bow to the Grandmaster before hurriedly pushing it to rejoin its neck. The black blood glued the two pieces back together quickly but it would still take a few minutes for the insides to properly reconnect.
As it was able to get a grip on what was going on around it, a hand grabbed the bat and wrangled it out of its hand. There were some shouts of terror and gags from some of its masters and the same hand that took the tool away grabbed its chin and forced Talon to look at the owner. Everything was still blurry but the emotion on Grandmaster’s face was still recognizable. Only, it was wrong. It’s old Grandmaster would look at it with a sick pleasure in his eyes and say “Good Talon, what a loyal and obedient Talon,” but instead now its Grandmaster’s eyes were full of pure and utter fury. Talon did not have enough mental function at the moment to keep itself from flinching in fear.
Grandmaster held its face firmly, not enough to bruise but enough for it to be felt for a while afterward, and his tone was just as firm and terrifying as his grip. Talon found that despite its extensive knowledge of languages it could not properly understand what he was saying. It understood a “How dare you scare us like that” here and a “Don’t ever hurt yourself like that again” there, but it could not understand the actual sentences.
But it didn’t need a translator to understand the gist of it: Bad Talon. Talon did something incorrect and would be locked in the freezer again.
It was a shame it did something wrong so quickly during his first few hours with its new masters and disappointed them. It would also suck that it would go into the freezer after sustaining an extreme injury, as the freezing process slowed the electrum significantly.
But it wasn’t entirely sure what it had done wrong. Did its new master expect it to fully decapitate itself and be at his mercy to be revived and was mad it didn’t complete it? Or did he have a different ceremony of loyalty? Talon could not hope for anything as it had no needs, but if it could it hoped Grandmaster would allow it to learn the correct action before being punished.
Everything was pretty loud normally to Talon’s senses, as they had been enhanced to be the best they could at sensing the environment, but with the shouts all around it, the extra sensitivity when badly hurt, the noises echoing against the cave, and its own panic all culminated together that its ears started to bleed and erupt in pain. The surroundings were too loud and bright and Talon was dazed and in too much pain to notice it started to tremble.
And suddenly a sharp cough cut the the noise, all the sounds ceased and all heads turned to who had made the sound. He looked older than Grandmaster and grey hairs were expertly slicked back on his scalp. A fancy butler uniform was what he wore and yet he had managed to command the masters to silence. Talon could not help but feel impressed at his feat, but also slightly scared that he may be punished.
“Master Bruce, do let the young man’s head go or else it might bruise,” the butler said, a thick English accent on his tongue. “I do believe our guest was not meaning to give you a scare like that, and if you would stop yelling in his ear he might stop trembling and explain his actions.”
Talon could not be sure who he was referring to, as it didn’t know which of its new masters was named Bruce and it didn’t see anyone yelling into a male person’s ear, but figured that the butler had to be referring to it and had not learned how to properly speak of Talons.
It was rather odd none of its new owners knew how Talons are to be talked about. It would be kinda concerning if Talon could feel concern.
Regardless of who or what the butler was talking about, Grandmaster let go of its face and another of its masters, one with darker skin and yellow armor, gently pulled it up by the shoulders until it was standing on its feet and let it lean against him as it regained balance.
Grandmaster brought a hand to his forehead, rubbed it, then let out a sigh as if frustrated with himself. “Talon, I apologize for yelling at you. It’s just we find it very concerning that you would hurt yourself like that without warning. Why did you almost cut your head off?”
Talon’s head was still fuzzy as the electrum hummed trough its vines, but even then it was odd for a master, Grandmaster especially, to apologize to it as if he needed Talon’s forgiveness. It was incorrect, masters had nothing to apologize for as they could do no wrong to a Talon, Talons were always the ones in need of forgiveness. But it was improper to correct an Owl and it was asked a question so it should answer it relatively quickly.
“When told to show loyalty to The Court of Owls, Talons are to nearly decapitate themselves to show they are willing to dispose of themselves for their masters. Decapitation is one of two ways Talons can be incapacitated permanently and masters love self sufficient tools.” Its voice was rougher now, as the bat had cut through the vocal cords on its way through. It didn’t feel good to talk, but it talked enough to answer the question at least.
Thank the higher beings that it had the other master helping it stand. It honestly would fall to the floor otherwise.
“See, Master Bruce? Just a simple miscommunication. Now, I believe that it would be best if Master Duke helped show our guest to his room while everyone else gets ready for breakfast. It has been a long night and you have a meeting in four hours, Master Bruce. We know how you are when without sustenance,” the butler stated, teasing Grandmaster. Talon was mortified he would be hurt for critiquing his superior, but was surprised when Grandmaster muttered a “Yes Alfred” under his breath.
The butler, Alfred, turned around and started across the cave towards the stairs. The master who was helping it stand, who it assumed was Master Duke, gently persuaded Talon to follow him. As they ascended, Alfred explained to it some rules about the upstairs as well as the masters’ names. But while Talon was paying attention to him, its ears were also concentrated on the conversation starting by the computer. Only the best Talons can multitask like this!
The Owl with broad shoulders and a red domino, Jason, was glaring at Grandmaster. “Damn, bet you’re going to enjoy having a new pet running around the manor.”
“Jason, no. We are not going there and he’s not a pet, you know that,” Grandmaster tried to shut him down, but it only seemed to spur Jason on even more. “Oh, fuck off! Don’t act like he actually means anything now when Cardinal and Signal had to beg to bring him home. And even then you only agreed to it for ‘scientific purposes’, you only truly started considering reforming him once he was in your palm trembling-“
“Todd, do not talk to Father that way-“ the Owlet, Damian, started to interrupt, but the older teen Owl, Timothy, slapped his hand over the younger’s mouth in a ‘please stfu before you make this worse’ gesture.
Master Jason walked over so he was just a few inches away from Grandmaster’s face, intimidating. “Admit it, you’re just excited to finally have a ward that will actually listen to all your bullshit, who will bend over backwards to please you, hell, would even snap his back in half just because you wished it. I bet he’d make such a good soldier, right? You like having everything and everyone in your control-“
“Jason, enough,” Grandmaster said, looking him dead in the eyes, unfazed. “You are all my children, and I do not think of you all like that. I admit, I did not want to bring a Talon into my house nor did I think that Cardinal and Signal were right about a potential brainwash reversal. But now, I see that my initial reaction was wrong and I will do what I can to help him get his autonomy back-“
However at this moment, the Owlet pried Master Tim’s hand away and objected, “Father, NO! I will not tolerate having that thing upstairs in the manor permanently. Having a mindless assassin living with us is just begging for a betrayal. Anything of the Owls is not to be trusted and I will not be comfortable until that thing is eliminated-“
“Calm down, Dami,” Master Tim interrupted, “He won’t do anything unless we order it, I very highly doubt he’s planning an overhaul anytime soon. Also, you saw how our reaction affected him, I haven’t even seen a child be that scared for their safety in front of their lifetime abuser. And,” he paused, smirking, “You’re an assassin and we’ve managed you for all these years. Who’s to say we can’t handle another one?”
Damian the Owlet looked offended, but it seemed to be from something else rather than managing one assassin. “Tt, at least I’m not mindless.”
There was clearly some other thing that was bothering him, and it seemed that Master Jason was the only one who dared to ask about it. “Okay Demon, what crawled up your ass and died, because this isn’t entirely about the birdbrain.”
The Owlet scuffed his foot against the floor of the cave, causing a slight echo. Talon was used to seeing emotional repression in Owls, as no sane Owl would dare share an opinion that contradicted Grandmaster’s, but typically Grandmaster’s children were an exception. Maybe they were all so used to not talking things out they hadn’t any idea on how to proceed?
Talon didn’t know, Talon just narrowly missed tripping on a step while listening to both Alfred and the Computer Convo (trademark pending…).
Master Damian sighed, before looking up to face his family. “Father, I feel extreme amounts of familial…love… towards you, and I respect my brothers wishes and opinions, but I…don’t care for the way you all treat me. You all treat me like a little kid, like my warnings or fears are as serious as a monster in the closet, but then expect the emotional maturity of an adult when I’m frustrated. You… you’re all are very inconsistent in how you think of me and I don’t appreciate it.”
Master Jason leaned towards Grandmaster with a smirk on his face and said, “Told ya Dinah was a good influence.”
Grandmaster seemed to be uncomfortable with the change in topic, and tried to put an end to the conversation. “Damian, I would love to talk about this more but with the new development in the manor, I think it would be best for you to change out of Robin and go upstairs to rest. We can bring this up again later, but right now we have a new member of the family and you have school to prepare for.”
Talon’s poor Owlet seemed suddenly acquire anger in that moment, “Father, do you want to treat me like a child or like an adult?!? Just choose one or the other! Don’t think you can push this conversation out or that I’ll forget about it, because I won’t,” he turned on his heel with a ‘Tt’ sound before heading towards a locker room. “Also, school ended a month ago. It’s summer.”
Talon was unable to see or hear the ‘ooooohhhh’ from Masters Timmothy and Jason as Grandmaster forgot what month it was due to the door closing behind it and Master Duke, Alfred and it emerged into an office. It was a rather formal office, very pretty in decor, but Talon was not in there long enough to take it all in as next thing it knew was being lead out of the office, into a hallway, up some stairs (with a chandelier above it that was very tempting to swing on), into another hallway, and finally opening a door into what had to be a guest bedroom.
Why on earth they were putting it into a guest bedroom instead of a storage closet was lost on it. Then again, they likely hadn’t known they would be the proud owners of a Talon for very long and therefore wouldn’t have all necessary items (ie freezer, storage container, punishment utensils, etc) needed. Just because someone was gifted a sword doesn’t mean they have a nice armory to keep it in.
However it would not complain at the arrangement (it quite literally couldn’t go against anything they ordered it to do anyway) as the mattress appeared to be covered in thick and soft fabrics, the rug on the floor looked fuzzy, and the window in the room showed the sun peeking above the horizon. It was still early dawn, but Talon felt…something…at the prospect of feeling the warm sunshine on its skin. It only ever saw a little of the sun if it left for a mission earlier than it was supposed to, and Talon had not attempted it in a long time (its trainers were not pleased with it when they found out).
Talon found itself standing in the middle of the room, boots firmly planted in the fuzzy rug, looking to Alfred and Master Duke for commands. “This is to be your room while you are with us. If there is something unsatisfactory about it, do alert me and I shall correct it. For now I have breakfast to finish so Master Duke, if you would be a dear and be good company for our guest while I’m gone? At least until you have to meet your friends for that group project you mentioned earlier,” Alfred spoke as he patted Master Duke’s shoulder before exiting the room.
Talon was incredibly impressed with how much the butler was able to command those around him without punishment. It was also incredibly weird, but everything about how The Owls worked could be considered weird.
Master Duke made direct eye contact with Talon, and then looked away. He shuffled his feet a little bit, the yellow armor he still wore clanked softly against his legs when they accidentally touched. Was he feeling awkward? “So uhh-“ he began, a hand came up to the back of his neck to massage the muscles in it for a moment, “As Alfred said, this is your room for now. And uhhhhh…you can just…do whatever you want in here? Just vibe? I don’t know- maybe take a nap? It’s been a long night.”
Talon shook its head, “No, Talon does not require sleep. Talon will do anything you tell it to do.” Its gaze momentarily glanced at the bed. It could remember the few times it was allowed to touch one, and it was either to tuck drowsy Owlets in or the one time it was ordered to lay on it…without any armor on… “…Anything.”
“Honestly, should have expected that. Tim frickin’ warned me…” Master Duke muttered to himself before turning his attention back to Talon. “So uhh, what do you do then when you’re not given orders?”
Now that was a good question that Talon had to figure an answer for. It couldn’t say training as it only would happen when ordered, and missions were direct orders. Freezing always occurred when ordered to, although there was an argument that because Talon had done something to deserve the Freezer it might not be considered an order. It was technically ordered into storage too. So that didn’t really leave it with many things it did outside of orders.
“Talon awaits for more orders, waits to be put in storage, and…Talon takes care of Owlets.” It finally decided. It feared to find out what the grownup Owls would think of it if they learned, but sometimes (when not commanded to do so) Talon would sneak around the Labyrinth to find Owlets. It would look after them like when it was ordered to babysit, but because it had done it on its own it was disgraceful.
“Okayyyy, that’s…kinda depressing,” Master Duke responded before a hand when to his chin in thought, “Huh, I know Tim said that The Court had actual owls, but I didn’t think they had Talons take care of the chicks. We don’t have any Owlets BUT we do have a turkey named Jerry who Damian might let you take care of-“
“Not birds, Owlets,” Talon tried to emphasize. The Court wouldn’t dare let a Talon close to their precious birds unless said bird was craving a finger. Why didn’t this Owl understand that? “There is currently one Owlet in your residence.”
“Alight, I have no idea what you consider an owlet to be, but you’re welcome to just…stand in here for as long as you like? I guess? Just don’t leave the house or go back down into the cave unless one of us is with you,” Master Duke said, laying some very easy to understand commands.
“Yes, Master Duke,” Talon responded as Master Duke stiffened.
“Please, just call me Duke. No need for the ‘Master’ at the start-“ M- Duke pleaded before starting towards the door, “I’ve got to go meet up with some friends, but I’ll see you later?” He said, but the last part sounded more like a question than an order.
“Of course, Duke. Whatever you want.”
Duke’s jaw hung in the doorway (“Did he really just drop the master prefix before Alfie?!?”) for whatever reason before he finally walked down the hall, likely back down to the cave as earlier Alfred had mentioned there being a rule of no armor upstairs. As the footsteps slowly became less audible, Talon stood there processing the information.
Talon could not wait for more orders (the area was to be empty for a while) or for storage (they didn’t have its storage container, and if they did it would be unusable at the moment), so there was only one thing left it could do: Find and take care of the Owlet.
It slowly opened what appeared to be a closet door (it didn’t want there to be any echos, they really messed with its hearing) only to find it was enormous. Talon had heard of closets this big, walk-in closet, but it would likely feel smaller if there were more clothes. There was a black biker jacket, a one piece suit, a fuzzy robin’s egg blue robe, and a bunch of empty hangers on the rack. But what caught its attention was the sound of wind moving through a small crack behind a shelving unit against the wall. Curiosity killed the cat, but Talon wasn’t a cat or could die by usual means so it carefully (trying not to mar the floor) pulled it away to see the source.
It pushed the wall behind it and found a small unoccupied space, a secret room. There wasn’t a window or anything to let in light, but Talon didn’t care due to its night vision. It was small and cozy, not sauna warm but more like a cat’s tummy warm. There was a small vent on the ceiling pushing air through the room, but much too small for someone to enter from it. With only one way in, the cozy warmth, and vision advantages, Talon deduced that this was the perfect place for a nest.
For the next half hour or so, Talon stripped the bed of its pillows and blankets (it didn’t really sleep so what was the point?), moved the rug, and then raided the room next to its that contained spare items for the nest. The hidden room was transformed into a cozy hideaway, soft items expertly organized into a nest perfect for an Owlet.
It had nests stashed and hidden all over the Labyrinth (thank goodness they’d never been found, Talon didn’t know what they would do to it if they did), but none of the items it had used before could compare to the quality and comfort of these ones. Such good quality nesting materials this Owl’s house had, and what it would give to have even one of the blankets in each of the Labyrinth’s Nests.
Now for the fun part: Wrangling the Owlet. No matter how much they wanted in the nest, they always wanted to play keep-out or tag before hand, and Talon expected no different from this one.
It closed its eyes to focus on hearing how many hearts were beating in the estate (or at least how many it thought there were. The AC unit buzzing all throughout the house was kinda distracting and giving it a headache). The slowest and oldest heart, which likely belonged to Alfred, was down in the cave. Another heart it recognized as Grandmaster’s was accompanied by two younger heartbeats, likely Duke and Master Tim, and the hum of an engine that slowly dissipated due to leaving the property. The only other one it could hear was the closest in proximity and beat much faster than others, indicating a younger age. Bingo.
Talon slowly walked down the hall the same way it came with Alfred and Duke, quietly descended the stairs, and followed in the direction it had heard the heart. Before long, delicious smells hit its nose. Its Owlet must be munching on something. It made sure its steps did not make any noise as it neared the kitchen and peered around the corner at the Owlet. He was sitting at the counter with a phone to his ear and his back facing Talon.
“—do Kent and Lane treat you like you own an inferior brain? Like all your opinions or fears aren’t serious?” The Owlet asked the person on the other end of the phone as he took another bite of whatever he was eating.
“No, I don’t think so?” The boy in the phone said. He sounded about Master Damian’s age but much more chipper than him. “I’ve never had complaints when I asked Dad or Kon to check the bed or closet for the Shoe Goblin. Closest was when I asked Mom, but then she went and hired an old and young priest to banish it. I didn’t even know you could do that!”
“…I should have known better than to talk to you about this issue, Jon,” Master Damian deadpanned. “But surely you can understand how infuriating it is when I try and alert Father or one of my brothers of something only to be brushed off. They’ll mess up my hair and say ‘Aww Demon Brat, don’t you worry ‘bout a lil thing! The scawry mobsters aren’t going to get ya!’ then go on like I said nothing of importance. Only then later when I’m uncomfortable with doing something for a mission I’m told to ‘act mature’. Surely even your smooth brain can feel the hypocrisy in this, or at least you can sense it.”
“…Don’t you mean monsters, not mobsters?”
“I said what I said, Kent. Keep up.”
At that very moment, the kitchen creaked as the house settled slightly, the warmth of the day getting to it. Master Damian’s head shot up and glared in the direction inside the kitchen. “But probably the worst part of this most recent showing,” he continued quieter than before, getting down from the high-chair and slowly walking into the kitchen, “-is that it’s in combination with Drake and Thomas’s most recent experiment. They have it set in their barbarian brains that they can undo the Courts’ conditioning from a Talon.”
He carefully snuck into the kitchen as though he was sneaking up on someone. “So uhhh, what’s a Talon?” Jon asked as Master Damian let out a disappointed sigh at the emptiness of the kitchen.
Talon soundlessly crept just out of sight of Master Damian. Its Owlet wanted to play hide and seek? Well, it would play that game if he wanted it to!
“Tt. A Talon is basically, as Todd describes them, a zombie ninja that is loyal to a crazed up secret society called The Court of Owls,” Master Damian answered, carefully opening a cabinet as though someone was hiding in there. “We ended up with one after the raid. Drake and Thomas had to literally beg father to keep it.”
“What’s the big deal about it?” Jon asked as Damian checked the fridge. “You’re talking as though it’s as bad as the bruise you gave TJ after he touched your sketchbook.”
“First off, Smith didn’t just touch my book. He tried opening it up and waving it around to embarrass me. The bruising of his face was very justified, even if the principal didn’t agree with it,” Master Damian defended, closing the cabinet and opening the pantry. “And second, no one in my family seems to be concerned about it. They’re treating it as though it’s a person and like it couldn’t hurt a fly. And while yes, it technically would only do that if it was ordered to, it still can and is capable. It could kill all of us in our sleep if it wanted to, and no one cares. They…they certainly weren’t like that when I came here…”
“Oh my god,” Jon muttered enthusiastically as though he’d found where the secret candy stash was kept while Talon’s Owlet got closer to where Talon was hiding around the corner. Almost there, almost time. “Damian Al Gaul-Wayne is jealous?!? Who are you, which planet do you come from, and what have you done with my best friend?”
Master Damian took a sharp breath as though he was caught off guard, “I am not jealous, Kent,” he almost growled, “I am only going to tell the rest of my family ‘I told you so’ when it inevitably retaliates against us-“
At that moment, Master Damian was in just the right position for Talon to jump away from the wall and grab him. The Owlet screamed bloody murder as his phone fell from his hands with a clatter to the floor. As Talon held him in the air, its Owlet started kicking and squawking, trying to get out of its grasp. It was used to Owlets putting up a fight in good fun, but typically when they squealed they’d devolve into fits of giggles and hiccups. This Owlet was screeching like it was dying.
“IT’S GOT ME, JONATHAN!!!!” Master Damian yelped as he struggled, “CALL MY FAMILY IMMEDIATELY; THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!!!”
“Stay put! I-I can get over there in a minute-“
“No, call Father now! If this thing gets you, there will be no one to search for our bodies!”
“I’m trying! I don’t know how to keep you on the line while I’m calling-“
Talon at that moment spun the Owlet around, threw him over its shoulder, and started to go back down the hallway trying to not jostle him too much. Master Damian tried to claw off its back. “Hang up and call my Father, Jon! It’s taking me to a secondary location!”
“Okay, okay! Just know that if I never see you again you’re my best friend and I love you-“
“If you love me, call my father!”
And with that, Master Damian was out of earshot when the phone hung up. He kept squirming in Talon’s grip as they made their way back to the guest room Talon was occupying. “You will pay for this!” Its Owlet commanded as he tried kicking it in the head, “Once father hears what you’ve done to me, you’ll be…be…be in so much misery you’ll regret ever double-crossing us!”
Talon just hummed and patted him on the back to try and soothe him.
On the way up, Master Damian did every action and technique he could think of to get out of its grasp, but he had never been trained to escape a Nesting Talon, so needless to say he could not escape. The only thing he could do was continue threatening it, and so he did in very colorful and vivid words leaving nothing to the imagination (not that Talon could imagine, but it didn’t need to. It had continued to exist despite worse things being done to it). The door to the room was easily opened, and the Owlet protested as they walked into the closet.
Owlet gave a huff as he was pushed into the Nest and the shelving unit was pulled back into place. He sat there, glaring at where he assumed Talon was in the dark (he was a little off, but considering he didn’t have night vision Talon was very proud at how accurate he was). “So, what are you planning to do with me now?” Damian spat, sounding firm but visually unnerved, “Torture me for information? Slowly cut my limbs off to see how long I last? Or something even sicker?”
Talon did none of the ideas he suggested, and instead pulled him close to Talon’s dead heart, one hand kneeding his shoulders and the other petting his hair. The effect was immediate (it had never produced any different results in the past) and Damian the Owlet fell limp against it.
Talon was pretty sure it had learned this tactic from caring for other baby animals, but the Court had taught it to never think that far back to the before. The before didn’t matter because it was a time where Talon wasn’t being taught the wonderful lessons from the Owls and hadn’t been disciplined. All thoughts or memories from the before should be snuffed out faster than a used cigarette, because only thing those ideas did was give momentary reprieve and distract from the teachings of the Court. Just like cigarettes.
Now, where was it again?
Ah, right. Giving the touch-starved Owlet as much physical affection and attention as it could manage. Cuddles in the Nests had always worked wonders for the previous Owlets it’d cared for. None of the Owls had really been very attentive to their children so most of them all shared some amount of cuddle-cravings. Despite being taught every possible way to hurt those it touched as much as possible, Talon very much preferred applying soft touches to others. Whether it be pats on shoulders, pets to hair, or rubs to the back, it found a pleasant sensation raise in its chest that was much greater than the satisfaction of completing a silencing.
The Owlets arms slowly and unconsciously wound their way round Talon’s torso in response. The warm room, adrenaline crash, lack of shuteye from the night before, and petting was making Damian sleepy. “Gn-“ he muttered groggily against Talon’s chest,(Clearly he was fighting rest and was somewhat successfully winning. Slightly.) “Wha…What are you…o’ing ta me?”
Talon moved the muscles in its cheeks to make its lips tilt upwards like it saw the Owlets do. It was never aloud to make facial expressions when in the presence of Owls, but with Owlets? It always made them happier. “Talon is taking care of Owlet,” it murmured against his hair, putting a gentle kiss to it. “Owlets are supposed to cared for by Owls, but Owls aren’t very good at their jobs all the time.”
Talon had always had thoughts in the back of its head on how children were to be raised, and they sure as hell were different from how the Court worked. It had tried its best to force anything from before or went against the Court’s practices out, but this one thing about children (and a few other small things, now that it was really thinking about it) could never be completely forgotten.
Damian sleepily chased the affection he god-damn deserved and crawled up to nuzzle his face against Talon’s neck. Maybe its Owlet was reminded of a time when he was younger and given similar affection from his mother, or maybe it was his first time being cared for at all. Regardless, Talon would never let an Owlet go without love for long.
“This-“ The Owlet interpreted himself with a yawn, his jaw making a small cracking sound as it opened against his will, “-is a very inefficient method of torment.”
Talon leaned back so its back rested against the wall, “Talon doesn’t torment Owlets.” The claws on its hands acted like a comb and carefully petted through Damian’s hair, gently combing out a knot when it felt one, and scratching his scalp soothingly.
—v—
How on earth was Damian succumbing to affection handed out by a literal assassin so easily? Honestly, he didn’t know. Realistically he should be squirming out of its arms and hightailing down into the cave where he could hop onto a motorcycle and start a new life undercover in the Bahamas; not necessarily because of the Talon’s danger levels, but more accurately due to what would happen to his reputation if any of the imbeciles in this manor saw him acting so soft.
But right now, it was so warm and cozy and dark- Damian had in fact foregone sleeping the previous night due to the raid preplanning, the actual raid, and post-raid accommodations. How was he supposed to fight the comforting darkness of sleep when there were so many variables against him? Damian was always taught to choose his battles, and only an actual idiot would try to attack a hydrokinetic in the ocean.
—v—
Slowly, the Owlet started breathing slower, his half-lidded eyes finally shut, and his full weight fell against Talon. The slow beating of his heart and the small puffs of breath against Talon’s neck were the only sign Damian was alive (in a different timeline, Talon would have joked Damian was “dead-asleep” or “dead to the world”).
After about ten minutes, Talon carefully shifted itself so the floor was against its back and Damian was sprawled across on top of its body, using Talon as a mattress. Without waking the Owlet up, it grabbed one of the blankets and pulled it over him. A simple tilt of its head would allow it to check the only entrance in case of danger; its Owlet had been seemingly paranoid of someone breaking in and taking him, so it would treat the idea as a threat and keep careful watch.
Anyone who tried to interrupt its Owlet of his much needed rest would have to go through it first.
—v—
Bruce “I am the vengeance” Wayne liked to consider himself a person who could remain calm no matter the situation: the numerous gala crashes, Arkham breakouts, world ending threats, and mind-numbingly boring Riddler escape rooms were proof of that. There was one place, however, that once hit could shatter any and all resolve without fail, and that that place was his metaphorical heart: his family. Jason’s death, Tim’s brainwashing, and Cass and Damian’s entire childhoods (or lack there of) had been fractures that had only just started to heal. Even the sadness upon hearing the disappearance of young Richard Grayson, an orphan whom he wished to adopt, from the juvenile detention center still scarred his heart despite the time passed.
So to receive a call from Superman’s youngest son (thank god he’d gotten his shit together enough to claim Kon as his own) that the Talon they’d taken in had abducted his child?
Well, at least he had enough money to pay off any speeding tickets he could have gotten provided the GPD had been doing their job.
Bruce would have gotten there much sooner though if he hadn’t been in an “important” (totally could’ve been handled with a few emails) meeting, saw the contact, assumed it was a prank call (wouldn’t have been the first time), and sent Jon to voicemail. So by the time he pulled in front of the manor with Tim and Duke clutching each other for dear life (their hair fluffed up even though the windows remained closed the entire time) and Jon anxiously pacing the doorway it had been an hour since Damian was last heard, leaving forty-seven hours left (the first forty-eight hours are the most important in a missing person’s case, don’tcha know?).
“Superboy, report,” Bruce all but growled at Jon. Clark would absolutely be fuming once he learned Bruce had talked to his son with this tone, but it was his own son on the line here! Give the concerned father a break!
“He’s still in the manor, but his heart is beating slower than it should; he might have gotten drugged?” Jon answered, scared for both the safety of his bestie and the wrath of his bestie’s father.
“Where in the manor is he? Upstairs or downstairs?”
“Upstairs, in the guest bedroom area I think?”
“Cardinal, Signal,” Bruce commanded as he struggled trying to find the correct key, unused to having to open the door himself (Alfred was in the cave doing some much needed cleaning and had requested to not disturb him), “Alert Spoiler and Red Hood to the predicament. We’ll have to do a complete sweep of the guest hall and then figure out what the Talon wants. Treat this like a hostage situation.”
“Yes, B,” Tim and Duke monotoned as the correct key finally fit into the keyhole and the door unlocked.
—v—
Talon’s hearing had picked up a new heartbeat about half an hour ago. It was fast paced and reminded Talon of a Chickadee for some reason. It kept moving back and forth in front of the house, like it was waiting for something or someone and couldn’t sit still. Heartbeats belonging to Grandmaster, Duke, and Master Tim had intercepted it just under two minutes ago.
Wasn’t Duke supposed to be with friends for another hour and a half? Talon was pretty sure he was, and Grandmaster hadn’t been in the office for a full eight hours yet. Talon knew it shouldn’t question whether its owners came or went, but it was rather unnerving after it expected to be alone for most of the day.
Their heartbeats moved through the manor, getting father away from it sometimes and moving closer at others (likely due to the design of the hallways). Eventually they got to the same floor as the room Talon was assigned, and probably disappeared into the other guest rooms.
Talon was used to its old masters being unpredictable, changing the rules sporadically, or acting without rhyme or reason, but this was just really odd. Were they looking for Talon to give it orders? No, they can’t because they haven’t checked its temporary residence. Maybe they forgot something important and were seeing if it was left in there? No, they wouldn’t have left personal items outside of their rooms. Were they looking for Master Damian?
…okay, that seemed like the most logical conclusion.
But why do they need him at this moment? School’s out so he shouldn’t have any homework due, none of his family members were here to play with him, and he couldn’t do whatever he did in the spandex because Grandmaster told him to go and rest. Perhaps his older brothers were wanting to wake him up for something.
‘If that’s the case,’ Talon mentally concluded (as it was not allowed to think), ‘they will have to wait until Owlet finishes his nap.’
It carefully shifted itself so that Owlet was now sound asleep on the soft blankets of the nest while Talon perched above him, protecting him with its body. Its Owlet huffed in his sleep and curled in on himself. Talon briefly wondered if it looked like a mother wolf protecting her pup before smothering that thought.
It could hear them stop just outside the door, saying something amongst themselves.
—v—
“I don’t know why we had to check all the other guest rooms first,” Duke muttered as they stood in front of the closed door, “obviously he’d be in the room we gave him.”
“It’s too predictable, to hold him hostage in his own room. We had to check all other areas first,” Tim answered while Duke gave him an eye roll.
“Signal, Cardinal, behave,” Bruce commended them (although it sounded more like a plea than anything else). “Superboy, are you sure this is the room you hear Robin’s heartbeat from?”
“Kinda?” Jon answered with a tight shrug. “It sounds more like he’s in the wall though-“
Wall? How the actual hell could Damian be in a wall? Duke kinda knew a Roblox game Damian might’ve played called Hole in the Wall, but that was a video game and not real life in the slightest.
“Stand behind me in case he tries to flee,” Bruce commanded, “I will enter first to figure out the circumstance. Be ready to intervene in case this gets messy. This is a hostage situation, after all.”
“B, shouldn’t we go down to the cave and grab our gear first so we actually have something to defend ourselves with?” Tim questioned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
Bruce just stared and slowly pulled a letter opener out of his lapel pocket.
“…you seriously think you could defend yourself from a Talon with a small knife?”
“Hnn.”
“Do you not remember what happened after the Talon attack from four months ago? How you nearly had to have your arm amputated?”
“…hnn…”
“And you expect to have a better outcome, than when you had all of the best batgear, with a letter opener?”
“…” Bruce didn’t dare humor that question with a Bat Grunt ™️.
They were allowed to quickly sprint downstairs (but not too quickly lest they scuff Alfred’s perfectly polished, hardwood floors), grab a few weapons each from the Bat Cave (except for Jon; all kryptonians have been banned from using bat branded tools for the foreseeable future), and make a dash to met back up with Bruce and his beloved letter opener.
(Once Jason and Steph learn of this, everyone on the justice league will be crack-shipping Batman X Letter Opener. Duke is certain Bruce will never live this down.)
Bruce softly put his hand on the doorknob and gently put pressure on it to make it turn. It only made a slight thud of metal against metal before turning all the way, the door making a slight creek when Bruce pushed his shoulder against the it. As the door was carefully opened, Tim and Duke held their weapons ready while Jon just held his hands up, fists clenched tightly shut in case he needed to used the strength from his dad and the skills his mom gave him. All three of them held their breath as the door opened wide enough to pier in annnnndddd…
…there was nothing in the room. No Talon, no Damian, and strangely enough no rug or bedding.
“…The assumed kidnapper is not in his room,” Tim observantly noted.
“Could be in the closet,” Duke shrugged before snorting, “pfff, like how you were before kissing Bernard?”
Bruce stared daggers at them, Damian had probably gotten the skill from him. “…no mentioning partners or legal names in the field.”
“How can this be considered ‘in the field’? We aren’t even in uniform; we’re just Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Bruce Wayne, and special guest Jonathan Kent searching for Damian Wayne while armed with a staff, a frying pan, a freaking letter opener, and a dream respectively,” Tim grilled. If Duke wasn’t stuck with the frying pan, he’d have laughed like he was on Joker Gas.
“I think he is in the closet though,” Jon piped up, not exactly comfortable with the energy in the studio. “It would explain why it sounded like he was in a wall.”
Duke and Tim side-eyed each other: Damian was definitely in the closet, just not the one Jon was thinking of. But that was a story and family case to be discussed on a different day. Preferably one where Damian hadn’t been taken for unknown reasons by a Talon.
Bruce moved the search party to the closet, everyone in the same stance as before. And unsurprisingly, when the door was opened it was just as the bedroom had been: empty, save for some random articles of clothing.
“So that’s where Jason left his second favorite jacket,” Tim murmured, stepping forward and examining the jacket to ensure he wasn’t mistaken. “He started a paint-gun war over this.”
Jon blinked in confusion, “A paint-gun war?”
Duke nodded grimly, “Yep, the only reason we didn’t get roped into it was because he knew if we were to steal a jacket, it would be his favorite one.”
“And it had to be paint-guns instead of real guns because it was against the Outlaws,” Tim summarized, “all of Gotham ended up drenched in various hues, chromas, and values of the rainbow-“
“Boys focus,” Bruce grunted, wishing desperately that it would be nighttime so they would actually take this seriously. “Jon, you hear anything?”
Duke watched as Jon took a moment to concentrate on hearing for Damian and not the mental image of Red Hood doing a Tarzan scream before pelting his teammates with paint over a jacket. He suddenly darted to the back wall of the closet right where a bookshelf of shoved against the wall. “He’s over here! I can hear him breathing!” He exclaimed.
“…Jon, that’s a wall,” Tim deadpanned.
“No, like behind it! I can also hear a faint whistling noise, there’s a vent circulating air back there!” He huffed, getting frustrated with Damian’s brothers as he pulled the shelf away from the wall to find a small door with hinges implying it was a push not a pull.
“Behind me, now,” Bruce commanded as the three booked it to the safety of Bruce. This was it, they were actually where Damian had been taken. Third time is the charm, right?
Bruce’s hand pushed against the door, a small squuueeee of rusty unused hinges before the edge of the door got caught on something which then added a brush sound. The door only opened so far before the hinges gave up and stopped. Duke and the others leaned to one side to peer through and see what was inside.
There hadn’t been much light in the closet, and there certainly wasn’t any light source inside the small room with how it was pretty much pitch black. Duke made a small ball of light (with about the intensity of a crappy flashlight. He’s still working on that power, shush) and handed it to Bruce so they could have a better look around.
The faint light first hit the ridge of a bunched up blanket by the entrance. As the light was moved closer to it, it revealed a couple more bunches of blankets against each other, twisted together like the walls of a bird’s nest. Bruce leaned forward a little more into the room to bring the light closer to the middle of the blankets. As the light moved closer, two flecks started to glow and the outline of…something…began to show. The light barely allowed the texture and shape of a few pillows padding the center before Duke’s eyes widened behind Bruce’s back as he realized who was in front of them.
The ball of light outstretched in Bruce’s hand was now directly in front of the Talon’s face, his eyes reflecting the dim light in a bright golden color and the small golden accents on his bodysuit (why hadn’t they made him change out of that creepy thing? They made the effort to get rid of his weapons and put an inhibitor cuffs on him, but didn’t think to put him in normal clothes?) following suit. His face was blank, as it had been the entire time Duke had talked to him (except when Bruce happened), but a low growl could be heard, a warning, at the back of his throat. It was difficult to make out with Talon’s body catching all the light, but the shine of raven black hair could be seen underneath him.
Bruce (stupidly) reached out with his other hand to touch Damian’s hair (or maybe try to grab him, Duke couldn’t tell which), and Talon slapped his hand away with a hiss between his teeth.
Bruce then decided that the slap was a declaration of violence (despite the fact he reached towards him first), dropped the light ball onto the sea of pillows and blankets, grabbed his letter opener, and held it threateningly towards Talon’s face. Jon crouched his way around Bruce and dashed into the room while Tim and Duke stared at each other, contemplating the stupidity of their companions (or at least Duke was. No one could accurately predict what Tim was thinking in the moment).
They watched as Bruce and Jon engaged in a one sided battle to try and get Talon off of Damian. Over the course of three minutes Bruce ended up with three scratch marks on his head, Jon had endured four scratches (stupid Kryptonian durability), and Talon had five stab wounds, multiple bite marks, and still stood over Damian’s unconscious body. Why Bruce and Jon hadn’t realized it was a losing battle was lost on them.
Talon seemed fed up with what was happening (kinda difficult to tell what he was thinking with the blank expression he had all the time) and grabbed Jon and pulled him underneath him so he was laying next to Damian.
“Damian, wake up! You’ve been comprised!” Jon shrieked as he grabbed his best friend by the shoulders and tried shaking him awake.
Damian just grumbled sleepily before wrapping himself around Jon and cuddling against him. “Five more minutes…” he mumbled against Jon’s chest.
That seemed to mentally snap something in the overprotective father and half-Kryptonian. Bruce stood in the small, dark space dumbly while Jon seized up as they both realized Damian was fine and, if anything, was getting something he desperately needed: sleep.
Talon, seemingly satisfied with the energy created in the studio, lay back down onto the blanket mass (would it be too puny to call it a nest?), curled around Damian on the opposite side as Jon (sorta reminding Duke of a mother cat with a kitten), and brought a clawed hand to Damian’s head, scratching at the roots, causing Damian to fall back into sleep.
“Owlet will not be leaving nest until Owlet has caught up on sleep,” Talon rasped (clearly he isn’t used to saying anything that wasn’t ordered out of him), giving Bruce a glare that pretty much said ‘try me, bitch’. Bruce maintained eye contact (ie Batglare) for a surprising few moments before sighing and breaking it. “Aright,” he agreed, surprising Tim (maybe? It was hard to surprise him), Duke, Talon himself, and Jon, who was still trapped in the (officially confirmed) nest, “he can stay until he’s had eight hours of sleep. But then he needs to be let out.”
“Understood,” Talon responded as Bruce grabbed the ball of light from the floor and made his way out of the room.
“Wait, you can’t leave me in here for eight hours!” Jon exclaimed, “Dad’s expecting me to be home for lunch! I’m supposed to meet up with some of his coworkers kids and distract everyone if he has to fly off!”
“Chickadee won’t be in here for eight hours,” Talon pointed out, “Owlet has already had one hour, thirty five minutes, and seventeen seconds of sleep. Chickadee will only be in here for six hours, twenty four minutes, and forty three- forty two seconds.”
Jon sent Bruce a pleading look, wide puppy-dog eyes filled with sadness and wishing for some amount of sympathy or pity.
“I’ll give your dad a call, let him know you won’t be joining him, and tell him he’ll need to find a different distraction to escape from,” Bruce said, his face and voice going into Brucie mode. Without the light it was very hard to see Jon’s reaction, but Duke didn’t need night vision goggles to imagine his face as the door shut behind Bruce.
The three of them made their way out of the closet to return the staff and frying pan to their places (Bruce was apparently going to hang onto his beloved letter opener) when Duke was stuck with sudden knowledge.
“Oh my god, he’s an unpaid babysitter.”
Tim snapped his head to look at him while Bruce spun around. “…what?” Tim blinked.
“When I was talking with him earlier, I asked him what he did for downtime and he mentioned taking care of Owlets. I thought he was talking about The Court’s pet owls but I guess he was actually talking about their children.”
Tim’s eyes widened. “Holy shi-shoot. Not only does the Court refer to their members as Owls, and they actually call their kids Owlets. How the hell was this not mentioned anywhere else?”
“You didn’t think to put in the report files or tell anyone else that you obtained information that may have been important?” Bruce questioned Duke, very firmly in Batman mode now.
“I was running late for the group project and it just seemed weird at the time, not to mention I’ve barely had any sleep the past few days!” Duke defended, “give me a break!”
“What, you gonna join DamiJon in the nest?” Tim asked sarcastically. “Oh, by the way, have you figured out what family emergency you had that caused you to get kidnapped by your own guardian at a speed The Flash himself would have been impressed by and ditch them? I wanna know ahead of time in case you need me to hack evidence.”
Duke paused in the hall, needing a moment for the gears to turn in his head and compute what Tim had just said. His hands (now frying pan-less) went to his face and then slowly moved downward once it sunk in. “Fuuucckk, what am I going to tell them?”
—v—
Talon kept watch of its Owlet as he looked through a box that had been brought in by Cassandra in one of the sitting rooms. It had been three days, fifty-six minutes, and twenty three-twenty four-twenty-five seconds since it awoke in its new masters’ abode, and it had learned quite a lot of things about them.
For starters, they really hated when Talon tried to call them by their appropriate titles. Unless it was Alfred, in which case they barely tolerated it. They also kept referring to it as ‘he’, which was a very unusual to refer to Talons: no matter what their assigned physical gender, Talons are not human and should not be considered as such. But a Talon cannot go against the will of its masters, so it endured being referred to as ‘he’.
Another odd thing about them was that they hardly ever commanded Talon to do…anything. Talons are tools meant to be used in some way, and if they are not used they must be broken and either retrained or thrown away. Sent on missions, used as servants, dressed as a decoration, ordered to do whatever the Owl in charge wants (no matter how weird), Talons could be used in a plethora of ways but yet they never commanded it to do anything. Not even to assist Alfred in any of his endeavors.
So it found if it wanted to stay in shape, it would have to find its own orders to carry out. Lately, those shameful, self-enforced orders revolved around the Owlet.
The Owlet seems hungry? Scout the kitchen for a snack that suited his diet (Talon had never heard of an Owlet that didn’t eat meat, but it had known one’s who didn’t eat greens or peanuts or potato chips. It would not complain about what its Owlet was eating as long as it insured that it was eating).
Owlet got hurt while out wearing the spandex? Prepare a bath to ensure he was clean and warm before finding soft clothing to soothe the aches (unless the hurt broke the skin, in which case proceed to the second step immediately and find warming items. Bandages must not get wet).
Owlet needs to sharpen his pencil? Procure the sharpener before he asks in order to not interrupt the artistic process.
As of the moment, Talon was observing the current activity to ensure Owlet’s safety. Cassandra, or Cass as she had politely suggested it call her, is one of its new masters it had not met the first twelve hours in the manor. From what it heard, she had gotten Bruce to purchase a box of items from a ship (Well, its masters kept calling it ‘ee-bay’, but bays typically held ships that carried goods in their helms so it figured that was the more correct term) and was allowing Damian to help her sort through the cargo. Talon watched from the couch cushion it was sat on and underneath a blanket that produced heat in case there were any enemies hidden in the box, a la Trojan Horse style.
Tim sat next to it on the couch, tapping on his laptop and occasionally bringing a hand to his cheek while sporting a disgruntled look. Jason was in the room as well, laughing at some of the items from the box or complaining about the inaccuracies from the graphic book he was reading. He was reading it the opposite way than was normal for a book, which might have been the reason for the inaccuracies, but Talon knew better than to bring it up.
The glass coffee table now had various dolls, most of which had unnatural skin and hair colors, scattered across it. From what it understood, they were sorting them into three categories: keep, keep but find replacement parts, and donate. The second group was closer to it and had various characters who appeared to be missing pieces of their clothes, shoes, earrings, or other items Talon didn’t know.
There had been three dolls so far that had…caught Talon’s attention. From what it had overheard from Cass and Damian when they had inspected them, they were all from the same line. The outfits and patterns they wore reminded Talon of the Before, but each were unique in their own way.
The first that had been brought out had curly pink hair, stone grey skin with splotches of black infused into the plastic, wing-like ears sticking out of the top of her head, what looked to be a tank top sewn to a short puffy skirt with the colors white, black, pink, and blue spread across it, and a dripping, hot pink rose attached where a brooch would. According to Damian and Cass, she was missing her collar, a headdress, her wings, and her shoes, but they seemed confident they would find them in the box. Despite the pretty cotton candy colors, Talon thought (why was Talon thinking? Talon wasn’t supposed to do that) she looked sad.
The second one they had pulled had long red hair with strips of purple and black staggered in its rooting. The same light orange plastic in her body was used in the cat ears that poked out of her head and the curled cat tail that stuck out from under her dress. It was very similar to the first one’s dress, but instead of pink and blue it was mainly purple and red. She only had her right shoe, a purple plastic with the sole sculpted to look like a drum, a cat’s face above her toes, and yarn looping up to halfway up her calf. The left side of her face was a darker orange than her body, and her green eyes popped out from the rest of her color palette. Other than her left shoe, she was apparently missing a headdress and an umbrella, but Talon didn’t know why a doll would need one. Does it need an umbrella too?
The third one so far had bright teal skin and lilac afro-puffs with a spot of light green in the left puff. The dress was almost the same shape as the cat-like one’s except the black and white tulle layered overtop the black, teal, and hot pink skirt. She only had her left shoe, which was white, almost went up to her knee, and had a translucent pink balloon animal for her sole, and was missing her necklace, but still had some lime green ribbons that tied around both her wrists and connected to a plastic piece that almost looked like a cross. Cass had explained that the knee joins on her were looser on purpose, so she could be dangled and danced like a puppet, and had demonstrated. Talon couldn’t help but stare as Cass had moved the plastic piece left and right, up and down, and watched as the doll tittered with it.
When it was sure no one was paying attention, it snatched all three and hid them under the warming blanket.
The tail of the cat one was fun to fidget with as the tail rotated and its finger traced along the inside of its curve, the slightly-matted pink hair of the first felt soft against its fingertips as it squished the curls, and moving the joints of the teal one relaxed Talon. No one seemed to notice that the number of dolls on the table had dwindled.
Tim let out the seventh groan within the past three minutes and Jason looked up from the book he was reading the wrong way. “Timmy Turner, take a break. You couldn’t find a match the past fifty-two times you changed the filters, I doubt you find his face on the fifty-third.”
Tim closed his laptop to focus all his attention on glaring at Jason. “Well, I’d like to see you try and check through every adult male who has died within the past decade and make sure they were cremated when they died. Also, Timmy Turner? Really?”
“You’ve banned most of my nicknames, so I’ve been getting creative,” Jason shrugged, putting a bookmark in the book. “Also, why not include missing people as well? Wouldn’t it be easier to snatch a living person to be turned instead of robbing a grave?”
“A person going missing means there is documentation that the person weirdly disappeared,” Tim deadpans, “no one is gonna notice if a body disappears from a grave.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Jason rolled his eyes, “I’m very well aware. But bodies decompose, they would have to snatch it as soon as the funeral’s over to get it in the best condition. I don’t think they’d be able to turn a half-rotten corpse into a Tal- an assassin. So shouldn’t you search within the last fifty years or something?”
“We don’t know when they got or transitioned him, so it could be pretty much at any point during the C-parliament’s run. There’s no way to narrow it down,” Tim said as he rubbed his eyebags. He really should sleep more.
“Really? No way to narrow it down?” Jason raised an eyebrow. Tim’s tired eyes widened and he frowned more, “Jason, don’t you dare-“
“Hey Talon, how many years have you been in service?” Jason turned to look at it, addressing it directly. Talon tilted its head, “in what unit of time management?” “Just years, and round down.”
Talon took a moment to think: it had been small when it had begun its service as a Talon, but freezing tended to slow down the aging process. However, Talon was much better at following orders than other Talons due to its title as The Grey Son so it didn’t get frozen as often as them. Should it subtract the time spent frozen due to not doing anything for the Court during that time, or did that still count?
After considering it for a moment, Talon decided its answer: “Talon has served as a Talon for approximately nineteen years.”
Jason turned back to Tim, who had his mouth agape. “You’re welcome, now you know he was kidnapped when you were born.”
“You just took away all the fun I was having,” Tim grumbled as he opened back up his laptop and typed away at the keys. “What he just did,” Damian interrupted their conversation, “was save you another twenty-four hours of work. Weren’t you the one always complaining that I quote ‘need to suck up my pride and get help’?”
“Sleep is for the weak,” Tim retorted, “and as long as it has nothing to do with Wayne Enterprise’s stocks, I enjoy work.”
“Drake, you have not slept since the raid three days ago and even before that you didn’t sleep for another day and a half. I’m surprised Talon hasn’t dragged you into his nest yet.”
“I’m not an Owlet, that’s why,” Tim responded as Talon perked up due to its name being mentioned.
(No. Talon isn’t a name, it’s a title. It has a more formal title too, The Grey Son, but in what was left of its brain folds underneath the bright colors that the dolls’ outfit reminded it of and the animals it faintly remembered was a name. But it was of no importance to it, so it stayed at the bottom of the hypothetical chest.)
Talon looked to the dolls in the Keep but find replacement parts pile and picked one up. She had grey skin, light blue hair, a green headband, red pants, and a white and red cropped tank top with cherries printed on it. But that was not the reason it picked her up and held her next to Tim’s face. Talon pointed to her sharp face and the dark makeup around her eyes.
Its Owlet nodded in satisfaction while Jason choked with a lurch and Cass smiled fondly. “Yes, Tim does look like the a zombie. Excellent point, Talon.” Tim just rolled his eyes.
“How dare you, being a zombie is supposed to be my personality trait,” Jason whined sarcastically before retracting, “Well, Tal’ and my’s personality trait, I guess-“
“I swear, I’m not stealing your trait you all are just being mean. I do not look like a zombie,” Tim grumbled.
“You literally look like you could drop down dead at any second,” Damian stated as Talon put the doll back where it had found her.
“You don’t sleep, we call backup,” Cass threatened. “Oh yeah? What’s the backup?” Tim (stupidly) taunted while Cass pushed the box from the bay a little to look him straight in the eye.
“The B.F.B.”
Jason’s hands went to his face in mock astonishment, “No, you wouldn’t sick Boyfriend Bernard on him? That would be cruel, Cass!”
“We don’t need to bring Drake’s consort into this,” Damian declared, standing up, “Talon, pick Drake up, bring him to your nest, and don’t let him leave until he has slept for three hours.”
Finally, it had been issued an order! Talon immediately stood up off the couch and grabbed at Tim, the three dolls it had squirreled away falling onto the floor and the warming blanket forgotten on the cushion.
Tim’s eyes widened at the incoming Talon, but they momentarily flickered down to where the dolls lay, acknowledging them before they returned to Talon, who had now thrown him onto its shoulder. Assuming the others were paying more attention to Talon and Tim, they would think they fell off the table.
And if they noticed Talon had taken their property without permission? Well, maybe they would finally punish Talon like it’d been waiting for. It was surprised that they hadn’t done anything to it yet after the display in the cave.
When were they going to reprogram it? Talon wasn’t fond of it, but it was probably due for it.
Talon marched down the hall to the staircase that lead to the upstairs while Tim bounced on its shoulder. It had exceptional hearing and could hear pretty much the entire property if it tried, but figured Tim would let it know if there was someone sneaking up behind it.
Tim got his hands on its shoulder blade to push himself up so he was not flopping on Talon’s back and to see Talon’s face better. “So uhhh…” he started, “you liked those dolls?”
“Talon cannot like anything. Talons don’t feel.”
“Right, then -shit- why did you have them with you?” Tim asked, losing his balance on its shoulder blade for a moment.
Talon stayed silent for a moment as it started ascending the stairs before answering, “…patterns.”
“The patterns? Like on their dresses?”
“Yes. They make Talon’s brain funny.”
“Huh.” They both stayed quiet as Talon made it upstairs and headed into the room its Nest was residing in. Talon moved Tim off its shoulder to better maneuver him into the secret room in the closet. The bookshelf that initially hid it had been removed. Talon now got to work “burritoing” Tim (Jason’s verb, not its). Since it had initially made the Nest, its masters had given it more nesting materials making it better than ever. All of the Nests it had made in the Owls’ labyrinth would be jealous if they had a conscious.
“I hate that you can just manhandle one of us up if needed,” Tim grumbled as he was tangled in soft blankets, “makes me feel like rag doll.”
“Talon used to not be able to,” Talon reasoned, “Talon cannot go back to that state for you, sorry.”
That seemed to alert Tim, “What do you mean by that?”
“Talon used to be small,” Talon answered, “but because Talon is the best of the Talon’s and didn’t get the freezer as much, Talon got big. A small Talon also isn’t as useful or strong as big Talon.”
He blinked at Talon, taking in the information and deciding how to respond. “…so you are the ‘Best Talon’? What do you mean by that?”
Talon huffed at the immature Owl, the Fletching. This was rudimentary information about Talons, how could he not know? “The Grey Son is the strongest, fastest, and loyalest of all Talons. Special, better trained, and learns faster with fewer mistakes. Best Talon of all.”
Fletching turned his face away from Talon to think. Talon briefly considered using the Owl that had taken care of him for knife practice. How in the hell did its previous Grandmaster allow its new Masters to keep a Talon if their knowledge of Talon care was so lacking?
“…You know, I think the nest if kinda empty. Why don’t you grab Damian and the others and bring them here too?” Tim suddenly replied, snapping Talon out of its knife-throwing fantasy. “Fletching is just going to sneak out once Talon leaves,” It eyed Tim. “Heh, that’s the thing. I can’t actually move at the moment, let alone get out. And even if I could, I swear I’ll stay put-“
“Promise?” Talon crossed its arms, raising an eyebrow like it had seen a past Owlet do to another. “I swear on my birth parents’ graves I won’t move a muscle. Now go get Damian and the others, please.”
Talon immediately got up and left Tim along in the room, hearing a muffled “Revenge will be freaking sweet, Damian” after it had left. It was receiving so many orders today!
The others were fetched (Jason seemed very surprised that it could carry him, Cass, and Damian at the same time) and brought to the Nest. Owlet and Jason had tried to fight Fletching for some reason (“Drake, you are a dead man!” “You’re gonna regret dragging us into this, Replacement!”) but Talon easily put a stop to it.
It looked at the full Nest, the small space practically stuffed to the brim with Owls and carbon dioxide. It had left the door open for fresh air and light, since they didn’t seem to like the full darkness. All its young Owls were wrapped in softness, it felt nice.
Talon could get used to its new masters, despite their weirdness.
—V—