Wayne Manor - The West Wing Roof - 03:00 AM
The wind was cold. The gargoyles were frozen.
Damian Wayne sat on the edge of the slate roof, his legs dangling over a fifty-foot drop.
Beside him, the Great Dane, Titus, sat like a statue.
"Observe, Titus," Damian whispered, pointing at a squirrel moving across the lawn. "Prey drive is useful. But discipline is superior. Do not chase until I command."
Titus whined but didn't move.
Analysis: The beast is learning. Loyalty is at 85%. Combat readiness is at 60%.
Suddenly, Titus's ears perked up. The fur on his back stood straight.
He didn't bark. He growled—a low, guttural vibration that Damian felt through the roof tiles.
Damian's hand drifted to the hidden daggers in his boots.
"What is it, boy?"
Click.
A sound behind him. The sound of a blade sliding against stone.
Damian spun around.
Standing on the peak of the roof was a figure.
It wore a black bodysuit with intricate armor plating. Its face was covered by a white mask.
An Owl.
The figure didn't breathe. It stood with an unnatural stillness, like a corpse propped up by wires.
"Damian Wayne," the figure rasped. Its voice sounded like dry leaves scraping together. "The Court has been watching you."
Damian stood up. He drew two daggers.
"I do not know this 'Court,'" Damian said coldly. "But you are trespassing. You have five seconds to explain, or I will remove your kneecaps."
"Arrogance," the Owl tilted its head. "Just like your grandfather. But we offer something better than the League of Assassins."
The Owl threw a golden coin. It landed at Damian's feet.
It was stamped with an owl symbol and a Latin phrase: Mors Vincit Omnia (Death Conquers All).
"We offer eternity," the Owl said. "Come with us. Become a Talon."
The Fight
Damian scoffed.
"I am a Prince. I do not serve birds."
Dash.
Damian moved. He was fast. Faster than any ten-year-old on the planet.
He lunged, aiming for the gap in the Owl's armor near the clavicle.
Clang.
The Owl caught Damian's wrist. Its grip was like a vice made of cold iron.
"Disappointing," the Owl sighed.
The Owl threw Damian.
Damian flew across the roof, crashing into a chimney stack. Crack. Bricks crumbled.
Damian gasped, the wind knocked out of him.
Analysis: Strength... superhuman. Reflexes... beyond peak human. Body temperature... zero.
"Titus! Attack!"
The Great Dane launched itself at the Owl. A hundred pounds of muscle and teeth.
The Owl didn't even look. He backhanded the dog mid-air.
Whimper.
Titus hit the slate tiles and slid toward the edge.
"No!" Damian scrambled up.
The Owl drew two jagged knives.
"The dog is weak," the Owl stated, walking forward. "You are weak. Let us cut away the weakness so only the weapon remains."
Damian gritted his teeth. His eyes burned with rage.
He hurt my dog.
Damian abandoned technique. He embraced the killer instinct. He drew a katana from his hidden cache in the chimney.
"I will kill you!"
Damian charged. He ducked under the Owl's knife and slashed the figure's stomach.
Slash.
Deep cut. No blood.
Instead of bleeding, the Owl simply looked at the wound. The yellow dust inside the suit began to knit the flesh back together instantly.
Regeneration? Damian's eyes widened. He is immortal?
The Owl grabbed Damian by the throat and lifted him over the edge of the roof.
"The Court does not accept 'No' for an answer, boy."
The Butler's Interruption
"Excuse me."
The voice was polite. Annoyingly polite.
The Owl froze.
I was standing on the window ledge, holding a feather duster.
"I just cleaned these gutters yesterday," I said, looking at the broken chimney bricks. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to remove soot from limestone?"
The Owl looked at me.
"Interference," the Owl rasped. "Eliminate."
The Owl threw Damian into the void.
"Damian!" I moved.
I didn't jump. I simply appeared.
I caught Damian by the back of his shirt with one hand. With the other, I caught Titus by his collar just as he slipped off the edge.
I placed them both gently on the balcony.
"Stay here, Young Master," I said. "And please, check Titus for bruises."
I turned to the Owl.
The Owl stared at me. It tilted its head, confused. Its thermal vision showed me as... nothing. A void.
"What are you?" the Owl asked.
"I am the Butler," I adjusted my gloves. "And you are rude."
The Owl lunged. It aimed a knife at my heart.
I didn't dodge.
Thud.
The knife hit my chest. It stopped. The blade bent, then snapped.
I looked down at the broken metal.
"Electrum alloy," I analyzed. "Interesting. But brittle."
I grabbed the Owl's face.
"You speak of 'Eternity' and 'Death' as if you own them," I whispered, my eyes glowing a deep, hellish violet. "How adorable."
The Owl struggled. "Let... go..."
"You are merely a reanimated corpse," I sneered. "A puppet of dust and metal. You know nothing of true death."
I squeezed.
CRUNCH.
The Owl's mask shattered. I threw him backward.
The Talon tumbled across the roof, skidding to a halt. He stood up, shaking. For the first time, the unfeeling assassin felt fear.
"This... is not over," the Talon hissed. "The Court... will come for the Gray Son."
The Gray Son?
The Talon leaped off the roof, vanishing into the night.
The Aftermath
I dusted off my hands.
"Are you injured, Young Master?"
Damian was kneeling beside Titus, checking the dog's ribs.
"He... he didn't bleed," Damian whispered, his voice shaking. "I cut him. He didn't bleed."
"A Talon," I explained. "An assassin of the Court of Owls. Legend says they are undead, fueled by a special electrum alloy."
"Undead?" Damian looked at me. "Like zombies?"
"More like preserved specimens," I said. "Expensive taxidermy."
Damian stood up. He looked at the spot where the Talon had vanished.
"He called me 'The Gray Son,'" Damian noted. "What does that mean?"
I narrowed my eyes.
Analysis: 'Gray Son.' Grayson. Dick Grayson.
"It means," I said gravely, "that you were not the target, Damian. You were the invitation."
I looked out over the city.
Somewhere in the darkness, hundreds of yellow eyes were opening.
"We must wake Master Bruce," I said. "The birds are swarming."
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