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Bruce looked down at the skinny, unnaturally pale child, draped in dark body armor that seemed to have been tailored for his small body. The child stared back at him, gold-on-black eyes and flat affect combining to create something uniquely unsettling.
"They liquidated the others," Alfred said, returning from his inspection of the Court's extensive documentation.
"You must be a real piece of work," the child spoke up, voice a startling contrast to his appearance. "Said they'd rather destroy everything than have you use it."
Bruce grunted.
"I don't see why, seeing as you're just a guy in an owl costume. But I guess you did take most of them out, huh?"
"And why did they leave you?" Bruce found himself asking.
The child glanced to the side. Nervous? Or thinking?
"They weren't gonna. I like to play hide and seek with Dad when he's working, but when he couldn't find me, he just left."
"Your father made you into this?" Bruce asked, feeling a pang of something like empathy.
The child tilted his head curiously, clearly sensing something off.
"Everybody's dads make them something, right?" The child said. Bruce's fist clenched at his side.
Alfred cleared his throat, and they refocused.
"You'll come with us for now," Bruce decided. "For study."
While the talonization process had clearly occurred, the child wasn't a normal talon by any means. The obvious deference was missing, and his personality seemed to have remained intact. It wasn't like his parents would come to look for him-- Bruce had ensured that the Owls who fled were thoroughly eliminated, and the boy's father was among them.
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“You're a liability.” Bruce didn't look at Talon, instead focusing on his computer screen as he worked on figuring out which cops were part of the cleanup effort. Jim could ferret them out on his own, given enough time, but Bruce was impatient. Jim would learn to appreciate this more in time, he was certain.
“I'm a liability? You're the reason these guys are still around in the first place!” Talon sounded like he was gesticulating, but Bruce wasn't looking.
“Killing their employees at random and making an example of them by displaying their entrails is not effective deterrence.”
“And what do you think is? Slowly choking their resources until they can't operate? There's always going to be someone in town willing to sell to these guys--”
“And there will always be more people willing to fight for 'good',” Bruce said, turning around in his chair finally.
Talon stood, arms crossed, in the middle of an eyeroll. Blood still soaked the sleeves of his uniform, as he'd followed Bruce here to argue after Bruce had pulled him out of the field.
“You will not operate in Gotham for the foreseeable future.“ Bruce rested his hands on his knees, staring up at Talon.
Talon flinched, likely due to the repetition of the command ensuring that he wouldn't be able to defy it, even for a short time.
”You won't be able to do it without me, not really,“ he said.
”We'll see,“ Bruce replied.
Talon made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, then began undoing his uniform right there. Bruce stiffened.
”What are you doing?“
”I'm not going to stay if I can't work. And don't tell me to stay.“
”I can make you do whatever I'd like,“ Bruce countered, eyebrows furrowing.
”Yeah, but you don't, do you?“ Talon scoffed. ”This isn't even about me, is it? It's about how you feel bad, seeing these guys killed.“
”I don't feel anything.“
”Sure. Sure you don't.“ Talon dropped the uniform to the ground, baring pale skin covered in scars and dark veins. He turned toward the vehicles and began walking.
”Talon-- Dick--“
”Don't call me that.“ Still, Talon paused.
”Leave with your clothes, at least. Alfred will want to talk to you.“
”He won't make me stay, either, you know.“
”I know.“
And Bruce watched Talon's pale, bare back as he walked up the stairs back into the manor. Dropped his eyes to the thoroughly ruined uniform laying in a puddle of dark fabric and blood in front of him. Sighed, long and low.