The Labyrinth - Unknown Time
Dick Grayson woke up screaming.
He sat up, gasping for air, expecting to see the library. He expected to see the storm, the broken glass, or Sebastian fighting the monsters.
Instead, he saw white.
The room was white. The floor was white marble. The ceiling was white plaster. There were no windows. There were no doors. Just a single, blinding fluorescent light humming above him.
"Bruce?" Dick called out. His voice echoed, flat and dead. "Sebastian?"
No answer.
Dick stood up. He was still wearing his Robin tunic, but his cape, belt, and domino mask were gone. He felt naked without them. His ankle throbbed where the Talon had grabbed him.
He walked to the wall. It was cold.
He walked along the perimeter. Ten steps. Turn. Ten steps. Turn. It was a perfect square.
How did I get here?
He remembered the net. The pain. The sensation of being carried through the rain. Then... a needle in his neck.
Suddenly, a section of the wall slid open silently. It didn't reveal a door; it revealed a long, winding corridor. Also white.
At the end of the corridor stood a small table. On it was a glass of water and a plate of food.
Dick's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since the cucumber sandwich Sebastian gave him.
He walked toward the food. He was starving.
Stop, a voice in his head whispered. It sounded like Bruce. Don't touch anything.
But I'm thirsty, another voice argued. It sounded like himself.
He reached for the water.
"It is fresh," a voice echoed from the walls. It was a calm, collective voice. Not one person, but many, speaking in unison. "Drink, Gray Son."
Dick froze. He pulled his hand back.
"Who are you?" Dick shouted, spinning around. "Show yourselves!"
"We are the Court," the voices replied. "We are the bedrock of Gotham. And you... you are the prodigal son returning home."
A panel in the wall slid open. A photograph fell out.
Dick picked it up. It was an old, sepia-toned photo of a circus. Haly's Circus, dated 1940. Standing in the center was a man who looked exactly like Dick's father, wearing a Talon suit without the mask.
"Your bloodline belongs to us," the voices purred. "Haly sold you to us before you were born. A generational debt. You were never meant to be a 'Wayne.' You were meant to be a Talon."
"You're lying!" Dick ripped the photo in half. "My dad was an acrobat! He was a hero!"
"He was a vessel. Just like you."
The lights flickered.
When they came back on, the room had changed. The table was gone. The corridor was gone.
Now, Dick was standing on a high wire.
He gasped, his arms flailing to find his balance.
He looked down. Below him was a pit of spikes.
"Walk," the voices commanded. "Prove your worth."
Dick's heart hammered against his ribs. It was an illusion. It had to be. But the wind felt real. The wire bit into his soles.
"I won't do it," Dick whispered.
"Then you fall. Like your parents."
Images flashed on the white walls. His mother falling. His father hitting the ground. Bruce turning his back on him. Sebastian laughing as he walked away.
"They abandoned you," the voices hissed. "The Bat does not care for birds. The Demon only serves the Bat. You are alone."
Dick trembled. The grief he had pushed down—the grief he had channeled into training—came rushing back. He felt small. He felt unwanted.
Maybe they're right, a dark thought crept in. Bruce just wanted a soldier. Sebastian just wanted a project. Nobody wants Dick Grayson.
He looked down at the spikes. It would be so easy to just let go. To stop fighting.
"Let go, Gray Son. Let go and fly."
Dick closed his eyes. He leaned forward.
Then, he remembered something.
He remembered the smell of waffles. He remembered a silver butter knife flying through the air. He remembered a voice saying:
"I want you to be the scalpel. Fast. Precise. Elegant."
Sebastian.
Sebastian hadn't treated him like a soldier. He had treated him like an artist. He had made him a sandwich. He had bought him the red suit because he knew black was too sad.
"My master has a habit of collecting strays. And I have a habit of taking care of them."
Dick opened his eyes.
"He didn't abandon me," Dick whispered.
"What?" the voices asked, confused.
"Sebastian," Dick said, his voice gaining strength. "He's a butler. He never leaves a job unfinished."
Dick looked at the "high wire."
He didn't walk it.
He jumped.
He did a backflip, pushing off the wire.
"I'M NOT A TALON!" Dick screamed. "I'M ROBIN!"
He landed on the "air" beside the wire.
CRASH.
The illusion shattered like glass. The hologram flickered and died.
Dick was back in the white room. He was panting, but he was standing on solid ground.
The wall panel slid open again. This time, a figure stepped out.
It was a Talon. A massive, armored assassin.
"Disappointing," the Talon rasped, drawing a jagged blade. "The mind is strong. We will have to break the body first."
Dick raised his fists. He was twelve. He was unarmed. He was exhausted.
But he smiled.
"Bring it on, feathers," Dick taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "My butler hits harder than you."
The Talon charged.
Dick didn't try to block. He slid. He dodged. He used the smooth marble floor to spin like a top, avoiding the blade by millimeters.
Left. Right. Jump.
"Is that all you got?" Dick yelled, jumping off the wall to kick the Talon in the helmet.
It hurt his foot, but the Talon stumbled.
"We have eternity," the Talon growled, grabbing Dick by the throat and lifting him up. "You will break eventually."
Dick choked, his legs kicking. The Talon's grip was like iron.
"Drink the water," the voices commanded. "Accept your place."
Dick's vision started to spot. He couldn't breathe.
Bruce... Sebastian... hurry...
Suddenly, the floor of the Labyrinth shook.
BOOM.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
"What was that?" the Talon paused, looking up.
BOOM.
It sounded like a rhythmic thumping. Like footsteps. Heavy, angry footsteps.
From somewhere far above, muffled by tons of concrete and earth, a sound echoed down the ventilation shafts.
It wasn't a voice. It was a roar.
And then, a polite, amplified voice cut through the facility's intercom system.
"Attention, residents of the underground. This is the housekeeping staff."
Dick's eyes went wide. He knew that voice.
"We have received a complaint about a missing child. We are coming down to retrieve him. We apologize for the inconvenience... and the structural damage we are about to cause."
CRASH.
The ceiling of the white room exploded.
Debris rained down. The Talon dropped Dick to cover his head.
Dick scrambled backward, coughing in the dust.
He looked up at the hole in the ceiling.
Two figures dropped down.
One was a black-armored knight, bleeding but standing tall.
The other was a man in a tattered tailcoat, his eyes glowing like two burning stars in the dust cloud. He held a flamethrower in one hand and a silver serving tray in the other.
Sebastian Michaelis looked at the Talon, then at Dick.
He smiled. A terrifying, predatory, beautiful smile.
"Master Dick," Sebastian said, bowing slightly amidst the rubble. "Dinner is served."
_________________________________________________________________________
🔥 Hey legends! Quick updates! 🔥
💥 Can't wait for the next chapter? Good news—ALL advance chapters are available on Patreon for just $5! No more waiting, just pure binge-reading goodness! 🚀
👉 patreon.com/cyci07
✨ Power Stone Challenge! ✨
If we hit 100 power stones, I'll drop 2 bonus chapters! Let's see if you guys can make me suffer! 😂
💬 Enjoying the story? Leave a review and let me know your favorite moment so far! It helps the novel grow and reach more readers!
Thanks for all your support—you guys are awesome! ❤️