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“Beware the Court of Owls,” Talon whispers as it returns the bloodied knife to the holster on its hip, “That watches all the time,” It picks up one of the Owl masks it found in the house and carefully maneuvers it onto the first dead body, “Ruling Gotham from a shadow perch,” it does the same with the other mask, “Behind granite and lime,” it steps away from the bodies and begins pacing, mindlessly, “They watch you at your hearth,” Talons weren’t supposed to talk, really, “they watch you in your bed,” not unless sentencing someone to die, “speak not a whispered word of them,” but these particular words had been all Talon has been able to think of since it had first been taught the rhyme months ago. It was like the words got stuck in its throat because Talon just kept repeating it, even when it didn’t mean to, “or they’ll send a Talon for your head ,” And besides, it’s not like there was anybody to tell Talon it wasn’t allowed to speak. Not anymore .
“Beware the Court of Owls,” Talon starts again. Making its way to the bedroom door, “That watches all the time,” The doorknob slips a little from the blood on Talon’s hands, “Ruling Gotham from a shadow perch,” It tries again, succeeding this time. “Behind granite and lime,” Talon drags its blood-stained fingers along the walls as it walks. If the Court still controlled Talon, this would not have been allowed, as it would have left behind evidence. But the Court wouldn’t control anyone ever again. Talon had made sure of that, “They watch you–” Talon freezes. There is a child. There should not be a child. Talon knew which Owls had children and which did not. Talon knew who else was living in the Owls' homes. It had found no proof of these Owls having a child. And yet, there is a child standing in the doorway of the room across from the one Talon had just exited, looking at Talon with wide eyes. The two stare at each other for a few seconds before the boy breaks eye contact to look at Talon’s bloodstained outfit.
“Are you–” the child starts, hiccuping, “Are you going to hurt me?”
“No,” Talon says immediately, “Talon only hurts Owls,”
The child blinks in confusion before his gaze follows the trail of blood that goes to the other bedroom. Talon hears his breath stutter, “I thought…” he looked back to Talon. Talon couldn’t help but notice how tiny the boy looked, “Don’t Talons… work for the– the Owls?”
Talon shakes its head violently, “ No . No more Talons. No more Owls.”
The boy's eyes go wide, “Oh,” he breathes, then after a moment of hesitation he steps forward, thrusting his hand out. Talon flinches, just barely, “Sorry!” The boy exclaims, “I just– I just wanted to introduce myself!” He lifts the hand up more, “I’m Tim. What’s your name?”
Talon blinks, trying to discern what the child wants from it, “Talon.” it says.
“I know,” Tim says, slowly reaching out for Talon’s hand with his own, “But what’s your name?”
Talon frowns, “Talon ,” it repeats, slower, watching as the child slowly grabs its bloody hand with his own. Talon does not pull away, as much as it wants to.
“Okay,” the kid mutters, making an odd face, “That works, I guess,” he takes Talon’s hand and pulls until they are walking down the stairs, “We’re gonna go to my neighbors,” Tim says when Talon makes a noise of confusion, “They’re– they’re adults. They’re gonna help us. It’s dark outside but you can keep us safe.”
Talon does not understand what half of those words mean. But… it also doesn’t want the fledgling to be hurt when outside. So Talon will go with the baby bird and make sure he is safe before finding the Batman and letting him kill Talon for good. Then Gotham will finally be free of Talons and Owls. Forever.
They walk outside for a long time. Talon remains vigilant the entire time, its eyes easily able to detect any possible threats in the dark. There are none. When they finally reach another large building, Talon attempts to pull away, believing its task is complete. However, Tim’s hand remains tight in its own, so Talon stays. Tim presses on a button by the door and Talon can hear a noise echo throughout the house. It tries to get into a fighting stance when it hears the noise, but Tim squeezes Talon’s hand, whispering, “It’s okay. It’s just the doorbell.” Talon does not know what a doorbell is, but it reluctantly returns to a neutral stance by Tim’s side, still ready to strike at any moment.
“Oh my lord!” the man says when he sees the two of them.
Tim sniffs and rubs his free hand against his eye, “Hi Mister Alfred,” he says, “Can we come in?”
“Of course,” the man answers. Talon doesn’t move until Tim pulls on his arm. Hesitantly, Talon enters the house. “Come.” Tim follows, dragging Talon behind him, “Did you walk all the way here?”
Tim hums a, “Yes.”
The man tsks but doesn’t say anything else, instead stopping in front of a room and ushering them into it. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Talon likes that noise. It reminds it of something. Of someone? And yet, like always, the memory is snatched away before Talon can remember it. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Tim sits, still holding Talon’s hand. Talon stands beside the couch, not understanding why it’s still there.
The man brings over… something made of fabric and drapes it around Tim’s shoulders. “There,” he says, “Much better,” The fledgling pulls the thing farther over his shoulders. The man looks at Talon again, “Might I ask who your…” The man eyes the blood staining Talon, “Friend is?”
“He’s the Talon,” Tim whispers.
The man nods, “I did notice that.” he says, his eyes meeting Talon’s yellow ones. Talon had lost its goggles a few weeks ago during a scuffle with one of the Owls.
“No, I– I mean,” Tim squeezes Talon’s hand, “He’s the Talon. The one that’s been getting rid of the Court.”
Something in the man’s expression changes, “I see,” he says, eyes flitting back over to Tim, “May I inquire about the whereabouts of your parents, sir?” he says softly.
Tim’s lower lip wobbles. Talon hums, trying to soothe the baby bird. This is, apparently, the only answer the man requires, because he steps forward to place a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Talon carefully watches and waits for it to squeeze too hard, to move to the fledgling’s neck, to throw him to the ground, but nothing happens. Instead, Tim leans forward towards the man, “He needs help,” Tim exclaims, gesturing to… Talon? Talon tilts its head to the side as it looks at the baby bird in confusion, “I knew if I called the police they’d– they’d hurt him! He’s just a kid!” Is he still talking about Talon? Talon is not human or a child. Talon is… a talon, “Batman will understand… won’t he?” Oh, of course; Tim was handing Talon over to the Batman because he thought Talon wouldn’t do it himself.
The man huffs, but does not seem angry, a small smile appearing on his face, “You were always a smart one, weren’t you lad?”
Tim smiles, “Sorry.” he shrugs.
The man shakes his head, “Nonsense, my boy. I’m glad you knew you had someone to come to,” he looks between the two of them again, “I can fetch him, but if you do not want to be alone I can wait. He shall wander up here eventually.”
Tim shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. Talon won’t hurt me, will you Talon?”
Talon straightens up upon being addressed, “No hurt,” it nods, “Only Owls. Talon protect fledgling.”
The man nods and presses something into Tim’s hand before walking out of the room.
After four minutes and thirty-six seconds (Talon counted, just like it did whenever the Court banished it to the freezers), the Batman enters the room. He is unmasked, and without his cape and gloves, but it’s undeniably him. The logo in the center of his chest makes that clear. Instantly, Talon lets go of the fledgling’s hand and steps forward, unsheathing his sword from the holster on its back. The man who retrieved the Batman exclaims something Talon doesn’t understand and the Batman’s hand moves to his belt, but Talon falls to its knees and presents the sword to him before he can do anything further.
Nobody moves. After a few seconds, Talon makes a confused chirp and lifts its arm a fraction higher, making it clear the sword is an offering for the Batman. Slowly the Batman reaches forward, gently grasping the sword, pulling it away from Talon. Talon relaxes, letting its arms drop to the floor. Then, it sits up straight, making sure to look the Batman in his eyes as it declares, “You must behead Talon,” it instructs, “And then burn the rest of the body.”
The Batman takes a step backward, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, “ What? ” he says loudly. The sword hangs limply at his side.
“No more Owls,” Talon says simply, “No more Talons,” then, it tilts its head up, giving the Batman room to use the sword, “Forever.”
“No!” The fledgling exclaims, running forward, “It’s not his fault, you can’t–”
“I won’t, Tim,” The Batman says, “It’s okay.”
Talon doesn’t break its form, but its eyes drift between the Batman and the fledgling, unnerved.
Slowly, the Batman hands off the sword to the other man, who takes it and leaves the room. He tries to take the fledgling with him but the baby bird refuses. Talon warbles, distressed at the sword's absence. The sword was sharp enough that the cut would be clean. Talon had picked the sword for a reason. It would hurt, but not as much as other weapons would.
“Hello,” The Batman says as he kneels in front of Talon. Talon blinks, surprised that the Batman would dare lower himself to Talon’s level. Batman looks at the fledgling, who sits down next to the Batman. Talon does not understand what’s happening. “The Court of Owls must have really hurt you, huh chum?” He asks. Hurt. Talon does not understand hurt. Talon is not allowed to hurt. Batman must sense Talon’s confusion because he tries again, “And they hurt a lot of other people too.”
Oh. Talon could understand that. Especially as it had done so much of the hurting itself. Talon nods, slowly, “Hurt,” Talon repeats, clenching its fists on its knees as it struggles for words, “Made… Made Talon hurt them,” It then occurs to Talon why it has not been disposed of yet, “No more,” it says, looking at the Batman, “You can’t make Talon hurt anymore.”
It’s the fledgling who responds, “He won’t,” the boy says, confidently, “He’s gonna help. Right?” he asks, turning to the Batman.
“Right.” the Batman says.
“And,” Tim says, “Batman doesn’t kill.”
Talon carefully shakes its head, “People,” it says, “ People . Talon is not people. Talon is Talon.”
The Batman’s breath stops, momentarily. The statement has upset him, for some reason. Talon cannot understand why.
The Batman clears his throat, “I know that the Court may have said otherwise, but you are a person. A child. You deserve a safe and happy life, no matter what the Court forced you to do.”
Talon does not know what to do with that, “They’re gone.” it says because it doesn’t understand what the Batman wants from it.
“They are,” The Batman says, “You’re safe.”
Talon knows of safe. Talon knows of keeping others safe. But Talon doesn’t know if it's ever felt safe itself, “ Safe .” it whispers, the word feeling foreign in its mouth.
“What now?” Tim says after Talon has mused over the concept of safe for a few moments. “I– I don’t,” the baby bird is distressed again. Talon thinks about the word safe and makes a noise in the back of its throat. Safe , it says without saying. Both pairs of eyes fly to Talon. “ Woah ,” Tim breathes, “How did you do that?” his eyes are wide, “It’s like there’s a– a pigeon in your throat!” The Batman huffs at that, amused. Talon does not know what a pigeon is, but it must be good if the Batman is amused. Although there’s something darker hiding under the amusement. It’s because of the noise Talon made, but Talon doesn’t understand why .
“Tim,” the Batman says, waiting a moment before taking his eyes off of Talon, “Do you have anyone you could go with– maybe an aunt or uncle, or a grandparent?”
The fledgling looks sad again. Talon frowns. “No,” he whispers, “It– it was just my parents. I– I don’t–” His lower lip trembles.
“Shh,” The Batman says. Tim leans heavily into the Batman, and Batman gathers Tim in his arms to hold him. Talon tilts its head to the side, watching with interest, “I have an active foster license. You’ll stay here. I mean– If you want to, that is.”
“Really?” Tim says, eyes wide.
“Really,” The Batman responds, “Talon,” the two turn to look at it, “Would you like to stay here, too?”
Talon’s eyes go wide at the offer. It doesn’t understand. “To… protect?” Talon tries because even if the Batman didn’t make Talon find people and hurt them, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use Talon as a guard.
The Batman frowns, shaking his head, “No. Not to protect. You would live here because this would be your home.”
Talon frowns, panic seizing its breath, “Job?” it asks, because it doesn’t understand. If the Court of Owls is gone, and Batman does not have any tasks for it, what is it supposed to do ?
“No.” Batman says firmly, “You don’t have to do anything for a home. It is yours if you want it, and I require nothing in return.”
That’s not how it works. That’s not– Talon can’t– Killing the Court of Owls was supposed to be its final job. There wasn’t supposed to be an after . Talons cannot function without a task, that’s why they were frozen between missions. Talon needs a job. It will not survive without one. “Please,” it says. Its eyes feel wet as it imagines being locked inside of the big building, with no assigned duties, for the rest of its life, “Please– need– need– ” Talon can’t form any words after that, focusing instead on clawing the black tears off of its face. Tears weren’t allowed. Talon needed to stop. Talon needed to be punished.
A large hand slowly reached up, dragging both of Talon’s hands away. Talon warbled, trying to free its hands, because it needed to be punished– “Talon,” Batman said softly, “It’s okay chum, we can give you a job, okay? Anything you want.”
Talon blinked, stopping its attempt to pull away as it looked at Batman. “Anything?” it repeated, sounding unsure.
“Anything,” Batman nodded, “We’ll give you a job, I promise.” Talon nodded, relieved. “If I let go of your hands, will you hurt yourself again?” Batman asked.
Talon frowned, “Punishment.” it said like it was obvious.
Batman frowned in turn, “Punishment for what, chum?”
Talon tilted its head up, “Ugly, ugly, tears,” Talon said, reciting the Head-Talon’s words, “Not allowed.”
Something flickered across Batman’s face, but it was gone before Talon could focus on it, his face returning to a blank slate. He opens his mouth to say something, but Tim speaks first, “That’s silly,” he says. Talon looks at him. He is scrunching up his nose like he smells something bad, “Everybody cries.”
“That’s right.” Batman agrees, “Your tears are not ugly, Talon. You are allowed to cry whenever you need to.” Talon squints at him for a second before slowly nodding, unsure if that’s the correct response. Batman gives it a quick smile so it must be. “Okay,” Batman says, “I’m going to let go of your hands. You didn’t break any rules, so you do not need to punish yourself, right?” Talon nods again. Batman let go of its hands. Talon did not punish itself. It was repaid with another small smile from Batman. “Good job, Talon, thank you.”
Talon did not know how to respond to that. So instead it says, “Job?” looking expectantly at the Batman for its orders.
Batman sighs very quietly, “ For now , your job is to keep yourself and Tim safe, okay?”
Protect. Talon could do that. Talon was good at that. So, Talon allows itself to meet Batman’s eyes as it tips its head down to show that it understands. Then, it slowly reaches out its hand so the fledgling can have it again. Tim smiles at Talon and Talon feels something stirring in its chest. The Court of Owls is gone. But Talon is, somehow, still here; without them, something it had only ever been told was impossible. And yet, Talon knows that it’s real. It means Talon is free. Talon is free.