Chapter Text
The first thing he felt was the cold.
It was so intense it seemed to pierce his skin, as if trying to settle deep within his being. His hands, his feet—everything was stiff and heavy, unable to move. There was no light, only darkness and a distant echo that rang in his ears, but he couldn’t tell where it came from or what it meant. He didn’t know how long he had been there, or how he got there. His mind was a void, a black hole where there should have been something—but there was nothing.
The green water—or whatever it was—came suddenly, cold as blades, invading his nose, his mouth, his lungs. He tried to breathe, but only managed to swallow more water. A primal instinct forced him to fight, to move, but his limbs were clumsy, as if they didn’t know what to do. Panic grew in his chest along with the lack of air. He was dying, and he knew it. And then—everything went dark.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a man. He blinked several times, trying to understand if he was truly awake. The cold was still there, though now it was less aggressive, replaced by a dampness that soaked his clothes. He couldn’t remember anything.
Who was he? Where was he? Why weren’t there any answers?
He moved slightly and felt something hard beneath him, like a stone floor. The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. The man was tall and broad, dressed completely in black. He approached, his face hidden by a mask that gave him an intimidating air, though the eyes beneath it seemed analytical, calculating.
The man didn’t say anything at first. He simply knelt beside him and held out a hand. He didn’t know why, but he took it. The man’s hand was firm, almost as if he was used to carrying more weight than he could bear.
The cold still clung to his skin like an impossible layer to shed as they walked through a dark, seemingly endless tunnel. The man in black—imposing and silent—didn’t stop even once to look at him, only guided him with steady steps. He followed, staggering, his body still weak, his mind dazed. Each step echoed along the walls like a distant memory, and for a moment, he wondered if he was trapped in a dream.
When they finally emerged, they boarded a strange machine—a machine with seats. The man put a bag over his head until they reached another place. The sight left him speechless. A vast, cavernous space spread out before him. There were walls of natural rock fused with futuristic technology: enormous screens, strange vehicles, computers humming with constant activity.
But what truly captured his attention was the enormous bat symbol carved into the far wall.
The man in black led him to a chair and tied him down. There was someone else—a young man dressed in black, with a bird-like emblem that seemed to glow under the cave’s dim light.
“Who is he?” the young man asked, crossing his arms as he looked him over with clear curiosity. His tone wasn’t hostile, but not particularly friendly either.
Batman didn’t respond immediately. His mask remained pointed toward the boy, as if analyzing every inch of him. Finally, he turned to the young man.
“I found him in a Court of Owls base.”
The silence that followed was heavy, as if those words carried a meaning he couldn’t grasp.
“The Court?” the young man repeated, narrowing his eyes at the name.
“Probably a Talon in progress,” Batman continued, ignoring the reaction. His voice was deep, almost monotone, but with undeniable authority. “They didn’t finish the process. That’s why he’s still human.”
He shuddered at those words, not fully understanding what they meant. Talon. Court of Owls. Human. Nothing made sense, and yet, something inside him stirred at the sound of those terms, as if a lost part of his memory was trying to surface.
“Still?” the young man asked more seriously now, his attention completely focused on Batman, though he shot quick glances at the boy.
“The process is incomplete. That explains his confusion,” Batman explained with the same calculated calm as before. He stepped closer, leaning slightly to look at him more closely.
“We need to run more tests to find out what else they did to him.”
He tried to back away, but the chair held him in place. He wanted to speak, to ask what was going on, but when he tried, the sounds that came from his mouth were confused, inarticulate. He felt a knot of frustration and fear in his chest. His voice wasn’t like theirs. It was weak, broken, as if something essential was missing.
The young man, who until then had been more concerned with Batman’s analysis, relaxed slightly and leaned toward him.
“Hey, buddy. I’m Nightwing,” he said with a small smile, his tone much lighter. “And he’s Batman. I know this must be a little... overwhelming, but we’re going to help you.”
He looked at him, trying to decide if he could trust him. There was something in the warmth of the young man’s voice that contrasted sharply with Batman’s coldness.
“Do you know anything about the kid?” Nightwing asked, looking at Batman.
Batman started typing on the massive computer behind them. The screens showed images and data he couldn’t understand.
“Not yet. But we’ll find out.”
“I guess we’ll be analyzing his blood or something,” Nightwing said, trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed.
“We have to be careful. He was going to be a Talon. We don’t know how dangerous he might be,” Batman replied.
Nightwing looked at the boy again. The discomfort in his eyes mixed with pity.
“Don’t worry, kid. We won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he said softly, though he wasn’t sure if the boy understood.