The Batcave - 04:30 AM
The mood in the cave was heavy.
Bruce Wayne stood by the autopsy table. On it lay the fragments of the Talon's mask that I had crushed.
"Electrum," Bruce murmured, analyzing the metal under a microscope. "An alloy of gold and silver with trace amounts of... something organic."
"It felt cold, Father," Damian said. He was sitting on the medical cot, letting Alfred bandage a scratch on his arm. Titus was at his feet. "Not like a machine. Like a corpse that forgot to die."
"The Court of Owls," Bruce said, pulling up a file on the main screen. "A nursery rhyme. 'Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time...' I thought they were a myth."
"They are real," I said, stepping out of the shadows with a tray of espresso. "And they are exceptionally rude houseguests."
"The assassin said something before he fled," Bruce turned to Damian. "What was it?"
Damian hesitated. He looked at the elevator doors, which were just opening.
Dick Grayson (Nightwing) walked in, yawning. He was wearing civilian clothes, holding a gym bag.
"Morning, everyone," Dick smiled. "Why the 4 AM wake-up call? Did Damian try to stab Tim again?"
Damian looked at Dick. He looked at the way Dick moved—fluid, acrobatic, lighter than air.
"He called me 'The Gray Son,'" Damian whispered.
Dick froze. He dropped his bag.
"What did you say?"
"The Assassin," Damian pointed at the mask fragments. "He called me the invitation. He called you the target. The Gray Son."
The Revelation
Bruce looked at Dick.
"Dick. What do you know about this?"
Dick walked over to the table. He picked up the mask fragment. His face was pale.
"It's... an old circus story," Dick said quietly. "Haly's Circus. Before my parents died. There was a rumor that the best acrobat in every generation was selected for something special. Something elite."
"Selected by whom?" Bruce asked.
"The Owls," Dick whispered. "They funded the circus. They used it as a training ground to find perfect physical specimens. Flexible. Durable. Fearless."
Dick looked up, his eyes haunted.
"My great-grandfather was William Cobb. He was the star of the show. And then... he vanished."
"He didn't vanish," I interjected, looking at the biological data on the screen. "He was harvested."
I tapped the screen.
"The DNA on the mask fragment matches your genetic markers, Master Dick. The assassin on the roof wasn't just a soldier. He was your ancestor."
The cave went silent.
"They want me," Dick realized. "I was supposed to be the next Talon. But you adopted me first, Bruce. You saved me."
"And now they want their property back," Bruce growled.
ALARM.
The Batcomputer screamed red.
INTRUSION DETECTED. SECTOR: WAYNE ENTERPRISES TOWER. PENTHOUSE.
"The sensors at your apartment just tripped," Bruce said to Dick. "Thermal signatures. Multiple."
"They aren't coming to the Manor yet," Dick grabbed his escrima sticks. "They're going to my home. They're going to destroy my life before they take me."
"Suit up," Batman ordered. "We end this tonight."
The Penthouse - 05:00 AM
Dick's apartment was a wreck.
Furniture was slashed. Photos were smashed. The message was clear: We know who you are.
Nightwing landed on the balcony, followed by Batman, Robin (Tim), Damian, and myself.
"Show yourselves!" Nightwing shouted.
From the shadows of the living room, three Talons stepped out.
One of them was larger than the others. He wore a heavy, ornate coat over his armor. He carried throwing knives that glowed with a sickly green light.
"Richard," the lead Talon rasped.
Nightwing stiffened. "William Cobb?"
The Talon removed his mask. Beneath it was a face that looked like a gray, decayed version of Dick Grayson. The family resemblance was undeniable.
"Grandson," Cobb smiled, his skin cracking. "You have strayed far from the nest."
The Family Reunion
"I'm not your grandson," Nightwing said, extending his sticks. "I'm a Wayne."
"You are a traitor," Cobb spat. "You waste your potential playing hero for this... Bat. You were born to kill kings, not save kittens."
Cobb threw a knife.
Nightwing deflected it, but the force knocked him back.
"Take him," Cobb ordered the other two Talons. "Kill the others."
The fight began.
Damian and Tim engaged the two lesser Talons.
Batman moved to intercept Cobb, but Cobb was fast—unnaturally fast. He anticipated Batman's punch and countered with a knee that cracked Batman's ribs.
"I have trained for a century, Detective," Cobb laughed. "You have trained for a decade."
Cobb pinned Batman to the wall. He raised a blade to Batman's throat.
"Your time is over, Bat."
The Butler's Turn
"I believe," I said, stepping through the shattered balcony door, "that you are exceeding your allotted visitation time."
Cobb looked at me.
" The Butler," Cobb sneered. " The anomaly. My master warned me about you."
Cobb dropped Batman and turned to me.
"You are not human. But you bleed."
"Occasionally," I admitted. "When the cutlery is sharp."
Cobb blurred. He moved faster than the eye could track. He stabbed me in the stomach, the chest, the throat. Three strikes in under a second.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I didn't fall. I didn't even flinch.
I looked down at the knives sticking out of my vest.
"Silk is very expensive to repair," I sighed.
I grabbed Cobb's wrist.
"You rely on regeneration," I whispered, my eyes glowing. "You think because you cannot die, you cannot be defeated."
I twisted his wrist. SNAP.
Cobb didn't scream. He just stared.
"But I do not need to kill you," I said. "I just need to freeze you."
I utilized the environment. I grabbed a canister of liquid nitrogen (which Mr. Grayson kept for... cooling his computer? Or perhaps making ice cream? It did not matter).
I smashed the canister over Cobb's head.
HISSS.
The liquid nitrogen coated the Talon. The extreme cold reacted with the electrum in his blood. The regeneration factor halted instantly.
Cobb slowed down. His movements became sluggish.
"Cold..." Cobb gasped. "So... cold..."
"Winter has come early," I said.
I kicked him. He shattered through the glass coffee table and didn't get up. He was frozen solid.
The Retreat
The other two Talons saw their leader fall.
They didn't panic. They simply stopped fighting.
"The Gray Son rejects the offer," one Talon stated. "The Court is displeased."
They threw smoke bombs and vanished into the ventilation shafts.
The Aftermath
Nightwing walked over to the frozen body of his great-grandfather.
He looked at the face—his own face, twisted by hate and centuries of servitude.
"He was waiting for me," Dick whispered. "All this time."
"He was a tool," Batman said, standing up and clutching his ribs. "Just like the weapon you hold. He wasn't your family, Dick. We are."
I pulled the knives out of my chest. The wounds closed instantly with a puff of black smoke.
"Sir," I said, examining the frozen Talon. "This was not an assassination attempt. This was a recruitment drive."
"And since we refused?" Tim asked.
"Now comes the war," I said.
I looked out the window at Gotham.
On every rooftop, yellow eyes were opening. Not three. Not ten.
Hundreds.
"The Court has emptied the nest," I announced. "They are coming for the Manor."
_________________________________________________________________________
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