When Jason's mother was still alive, she used to read him stories about birds.

She read him stories about a lot of things, but the small book she kept on birds was Jason's favorite, and thus, their most visited text. It wasn't a very nice book, frayed and bruised from it's time on the bargain rack, but Jason loved it anyway. Before he could read, his mother would show him the pictures of birds as she flipped through, adding her own descriptions and facts as they went. The Robin's name was Jerry and he had four sons. The bluebird's favorite song to listen to was Elvis. The hawk kept hiding things from his mother and was grounded.

The extra stories were Jason's favorite. Once he was old enough to read himself, few things disappointed him more than learning none of those stories were true.

When Jason turned seven, a year after his mother got sick, and three months before his father got into crime, he began to read the book to his mother instead. Confined to her bed and unable to pay the television bill, books were the best option to distract her from what was coming ahead. Jason could remember those days, how'd he get home from school and push up an over-sized chair to her bedside to tell her how his day went. How he offered to comb her hair as he told her about his day. How, after he finished his homework, he'd crack open the bird book and begin to read.

It was in those days that he discovered his mother had always skipped the page that contained information about owls.

He asked her about it once. He thought she would give him a simple answer, something short and to the point. Maybe she'd just never gotten that far. But when he flipped open that page only for her to demand him to close it, he realized that perhaps there was more to his mother's aversion than he previously assumed.

"Jason," his mother had said after he closed the book and tucked it back in the bookshelf. "I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mom." He'd do anything for her. Or at least try.

She put her hand on his shoulder. It must have been an effort for her to even attempt the gesture, given how weak she was at the time. Squeezed it tight. When she spoke, her voice was stronger than it had been in months.

"As long as you live in Gotham, never speak of Owls again."

Later, after his mother died in her own bed, and his father had gotten so deep into crime that he didn't recognize himself anymore, Jason would notice that someone ripped out the pages about birds entirely.

Jason listened to his mother; he stopped speaking of Owls. But that didn't mean he didn't stop trying to learn about them.

At first, he went to books for answers. The Gotham library was full of information and Jason went out to devour it all, carrying home stacks almost larger than himself week after week to learn more about the birds of prey. He started in the children's section, working his way from there to the adults as he read every last text he could find.

He came up empty. The books about birds never connected to Gotham. They never explained why the mere mention of the winged creatures could be taboo. So he hit the internet. During the early hours of the morning, right before school, Jason would collect pop cans. Once he had a full bag, he'd turn them into the recycling center for a little more than pocket change; just enough to access the public library computers.

It was there, searching through old news articles about killed leaders and cracked masks, that Jason learned about the Court of Owls.

There wasn't much to go on, the papers were vague about the incidents, but conspiracy websites helped him put a few of the pieces together. He learned about the assassinations that took place while he parents grew up in Gotham. He learned about their sudden halt when he was a very small child. He learned how they had started up again to target the underbelly of Gotham.

After that, Jason stopped collecting pop cans. Instead, he would wait for his father to throw away the day's paper. He'd fish it out of the trash and open it up to the news' section. Take in the sections his father had circled in red pen.

Jason Todd wasn't the only member of the Todd family with an interest with Owls. Except, unlike his son, Willis had much different reasons for keeping out for the birds in the sky.

When one was prey, it was always good to keep an eye on the predators.

When Jason was ten, he discovered his father's corpse in their living room.

He remembered the day perfectly. They'd spent the day learning about World War one at school. Rena from class had made him a friendship bracelet. He's come home with an A on his test to meet a corpse.

It wasn't a bloody scene, all things considered. Later, when he'd become a Talon himself, it would seem almost tame. His father was sitting in his armchair, a light brown thing that turned a rusty brown under the stain of his father's blood. His hands were resting on the armrests, the palms forced to stay in place by two daggers. The chair was turned so he was facing the television, an old documentary his mother once bought on display.

Jason didn't realize he was dead until he turned the chair to find a knife right between his father's eyes.

He didn't scream. That was one thing he remembered clearly. He didn't think about it. Instead, turned the chair back around. Walked towards the kitchen. Packed a bag of bare essentials and climbed his way out the window to the streets below.

When the cops arrived, they would note two things. The first was a small bloody hand print on the kitchen counter. The second was Catherine Todd's missing photograph from the living room.

If any of them noticed the documentary on television was about owls, they didn't mention it.

Jason lived on the streets for a year before Bruce found him.

At the time, he thought it was the worst time of his life. His meals came from dumpsters. Some of his friends would turn on him if it meant a warm meal, and the rest only suffered along with him. Sleep was fleeting and after a month on the concrete, Jason learned to rest with a knife under his pillow.

They were lonely months. Jason's thirst for academia fell to the wayside; there was no time to study when you were trying to survive. Instead, Jason went for more practical knowledge. He learned where to hit a man if he wanted him to collapse. He learned how to steal out of the tightest of pockets. He learned how to survive.

He wasn't ashamed of that. Unlike his peers, he took to viewing his exploits as marks of honor. Taking a gang member's wallet was nothing to be ashamed of. Living was nothing to be ashamed of.

They were dark times but sometimes Jason saw glimmers of light. On nights where the weather was nice and the air was warm, Jason would scale his way onto rooftops to look at the city below. He'd gaze at the center of Gotham with its lights and sounds. In the night, it looked almost like a paradise, this city that had let him fall into the cracks. Maybe, Jason had thought on those rare occasions, the world could change for the better. That the lady of Gotham would come to rescue them all from the gutter and lift them into the sun.

He was wrong. The lady of Gotham wasn't coming for him. It had sent a different ambassador. One who had talons.

Jason Todd's time on the streets were hard. But they wouldn't end up being the worst in his life. Not by a long shot.

Jason met Bruce stealing tires off a limo.

He hadn't even noticed the man approach when it happened. He'd been too focused on the score, the fact that some idiot left their car in Crime Alley of all places. The wheels were hard to get off with his small stature, but he managed to get at least one off when he heard a crunch behind him

Jason expected the owner to be behind him. Some dude in a starch white suit ready to call the cops. Not a fucking Talon.

Jason dropped his tire iron.

The Talon froze. If it wasn't for the menacing getup, his posture could be described as almost comical. He was standing on a dumpster, crouched in a way that made his butt stick out. There were no weapons in his hands, his knives were still on his belt, and given the way they were half raised, it looked like he'd been caught in the headlights. A pop can was crushed under his toes.

Jason knew what Talons were. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what the knives in his father's skull had meant. He tried to take a step backwards but found himself pressed flat against the car. The rim dug into his back.

"If you want the wheels, you're going to have to go somewhere else," Jason said, terror making him reckless. If he was going to die, he was going to die in style. "I called dibs."

The Talon looked at him. The sunlight gave his goggles significant glare. For a second, Jason thought the sight of him would be his last moment on Earth.

Then the impossible happened. The Talon bent over. Clutched his stomach. And laughed. Honest to God, laughed.

Jason stared at him, trying to decide whether he should book it or not. His legs were still frozen in place. The Talon kept laughing, his giggles turning into full on chortling. if it wasn't for the Court's legacy, the Talon would have lost all of his intimidation in that moment.

"What the fuck," Jason whispered. If he was going to die, there better be an afterlife, because he needed to tell someone about this.

The Talon's laughter slowed down, and he let his hands fall back to his sides. He jumped off the dumpster, his feet landing on the concrete with a soft clatter.

"I have to admit." The Talon's voice wasn't like Jason thought it would be. He was expecting something more menacing, more brutal. Not this soft, cracked tone, with an edge of humor. "That may be my favorite reaction to getting discovered yet."

Jason stopped pressing against the car. "What?"

The Talon took a step forward, but held his hands out to show he wasn't trying to be threatening. "You heard me. I've never gotten that response to my appearance before. Usually it's just screaming."

Jason felt like he'd been hit by a tire iron. The world wasn't making sense. Here was a Talon trying to carry on casual conversation. Jason didn't even know they talked.

"Should I be screaming?" Jason was still talking without thinking. He wasn't sure if his brain would ever come back offline. The Talon chuckled.

"You can if you want, but you don't need to. I have no intention of hurting you." He gestured to Jason's hands and Jason realized they were balled into fists. Jason considered relaxing them before the image of his father in a blood soaked armchair flickered in his brain. He scowled.

"You're a Talon. You hurt people. It's your job."

The Talon titled his head. Jason wished that he could see under his mask, if only to know what facial expression he was making. After a second, he spoke.

"Jason Todd, isn't it? Son of Willis Todd?"

Jason usually hated being associated with his father, but just this once, he'd take the label. "The one and only. Why? You the bastard who killed him?"

The Talon shook his head. "No, I didn't. But I killed the bastard who did, if that helps."

Jason felt the rage vanish from his body, once again replaced with confusion. There was no way this man could be a Talon. Talon's were killers. Talons were mindless drones. Talons didn't offer comfort to little boys.

"Look, you must be hungry," the Talon said. As if on cue, Jason's stomach began to rumble. "Listen, I'd be happy to grant you a free meal. Discuss some matters. What happened to your father if you'd like."

Jason's nose crinkled. "And what, you'll keep me in your lair forever?"

"I was thinking I'd meet you wherever you prefer, but if you want access to the secret lair, I wouldn't turn it down. We don't often get visitors."

Jason thought about it. Really thought about it. He wasn't an idiot; he knew that nice words didn't always translate to nice men. But the offer was tempting. He wanted answers. He wanted a meal. The question just settled on whether the risk outweighed the reward.

"Jason." Jason snapped back to the present and gaped when he took in the image before him. The Talon was crouched right in front of him, almost in his personal space but that wasn't what caught Jason's attention. His gaze was centered on the bare face before him. The Talon's mask was off, just the goggles still attached, and even those were pushed up onto his forehead. It became clear why the man kept the mask on; no one would be able to look at him and see anything other than a corpse. His veins showed through his pale skin, stark blue rivers working their way under his pasty skin. His eyes were glazed over, almost exactly how his mother's looked when she died. Scars, small but noticeable, curved their way down his jawline and nose.

Jason had always assumed that Talons looked either like regular people or complete monsters. He'd never suspected they could look like men trapped between both.

"Jason," the Talon said, drawing Jason's attention to the man's eyes. "You aren't the only child who has been hurt by the Court of Owls. Please, let me help you."

Jason didn't realize he was nodding until the Talon stood back up. He watched as the man slid his mask back on, once again obscuring his features.

"I can meet you on the rooftop on 5th tonight. Will that be alright?" Jason nodded once more. "Good. It was nice meeting you Mr. Todd." He walked back towards the dumpster, jumping on top of it before leaping towards the fire escape ladder. In less than a minute, he was gone.

Jason was so stunned, he almost got caught by the limo owner with a tire iron by his feet five minutes later.

The Talon kept to his word.

Any reservations Jason had about the meeting vanished once he saw the assassin with the best looking sandwich Jason had ever seen. He practically lunged for the thing, devouring it as fast as he could, as the Talon took a seat on the concrete across for him. His mask was off once more, but in the darkness, his unnatural features were harder to notice. He didn't start speaking until Jason was halfway through his sandwich.

"You remind me of my son."

Jason began to chew slower. "You have a son?"

"Yes I do. And a daughter. She's just a little older than you."

"Huh." Jason didn't know Talons could have kids. He felt it would throw off the entire evil assassin vibe. "They like you?"

The Talon flinched. It was like Jason had hit him. He shook his head. "No. They're not. I hope they never will be."

Jason wondered what that meant. Did he not want them to be Talon's like him? Or was there something else at play here? He looked down at his sandwich and took another bite. Thinking past the haze of fresh food, he decided to ask the question that had brought him here in the first place. "You said you knew something about my Dad?"

The Talon's expression evened out. It grew almost grave, with a hint of sympathy in the eyes. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry for your loss by the way. No child deserves to lose their parents like that."

There was a tone to his voice that told Jason that he meant it. He didn't respond, just lowering his head a little. The Talon continued after a short pause.

"When I was young, the Court kidnapped me to be one of their soldiers. Killed those who cared about me and carried me away in the night. Turned me into this." He gestured to his face, his left pointer finger tracing some of the blue veins under his eyes. "When I was 17, I decided I had enough. So I destroyed them all."

Jason stared at him. "Destroyed them? All of them?"

The Talon reached into his pocket to pull out one of his knives. He flipped it once in his hand before tucking it in the other pocket. Jason wondered if it was a habit. "Just those in charge. The others, I kept alive. I hoped I could make them see things my way."

The more the Talon talked, the more Jason was considering booking it. He knew the man in front of him was dangerous, but destroying an entire society? That was a new level of horror. He thought of his father's body in an arm chair and pressed on. "What was your way?"

The Talon leaned forward so he was looking Jason in the eye. It wasn't to intimidate him. It was more of a way of showing respect. Like he was trying to make it clear he saw Jason as more than a child. It was sort of nice after being treated like trash for over a year.

"The Court attempted to mold Gotham to their whims. It was why they stuck with political assassinations. They had all this power, all this skill, and they used it to pool their own wealth, to strangle the people the city should have nurtured. When I took over, I didn't want to continue that. I didn't want to hurt the people I'd always wanted to protect. And one day, I realized I didn't have to. I could use this curse the Court forced upon me to do some good. To help Gotham thrive again."

Jason didn't have to ask what the curse was; it was plain on the Talon's face. He wasn't sure if he should be repulsed or impressed. "So you killed people."

"Only particularly bad people. Murderers, child abusers, leaders of the mob. Those who were never going to be saved."

Jason looked down at the concrete. His thought of his father before his mother had died, how he used to make him pancakes in the morning, and give him hugs before heading off to school. Crime had warped Willis Todd, Jason knew that even at his age, but it couldn't have twisted him entirely. The root of his behavior still centered on a spark of good.

"My father could have been saved," Jason whispered.

The Talon's hand fell onto his shoulder and gripped it tentatively. Like he wasn't quite sure how to provide physical comfort.

"I know," the Talon's voice was a croak. "Which is why I was furious when I found out one of my men had killed him." He tightened his grip on Jason's shoulder and for a second, Jason could have sworn actual talons were gripping into his flesh. "After I took on the responsibility of parenting, I decided to awake one of my Talon's who I thought would understand my mission. To help me balance the workload. I thought she understood what I was trying to do. I was wrong; she saw my cause as a way to sate bloodlust instead. She got far too many men and woman before I managed to take her down. And for that I am sorry. I put my faith in the wrong place and you had to suffer for it."

Jason didn't look up from the concrete. "What was her name?"

"Mary," the Talon's voice was full of regret. "She'd spent a lot of time under Talon brainwashing. In the end, it overpowered the goodness she held in her heart. To this day, I wish it would have been different. She was a good friend."

Jason wasn't sure how to feel about that. His sandwich was long forgotten and he let it rest in his lap. The Talon took his hand off Jason's shoulder before speaking again.

"Jason." Jason back up at the Talon. His hands were resting in his lap. "If you hate me, I completely understand. In many ways, I'm responsible for what happened to you. I couldn't stop my own men and as a result, you had to suffer. And I doubt there is anyway I can ever make up for that."

"You got that right," Jason muttered without thinking. If the Talon was offended, he didn't show it. Instead he began to pluck at his gloves.

"But I'd like to try," the Talon said. He was staring at Jason intently. "Look, the streets are no place for a young man like yourself. And while I'd love to help you get set up with a normal home, I don't have any pull in the foster system. So I'd like to make you an offer." He stopped plucking at his gloves. "If you would like, you can stay with me."

Out of all the things Jason was expecting, that wasn't it. He was glad his sandwich was on his lap; if it wasn't he would have dropped it. "What?"

"You can stay with me. If you would like that is. I've already talked it over with my children; they'd be happy to have someone else to talk with." The Talon reached into his back pocket and pulled out a picture, handing it over to Jason. It was a faded thing, crumpled from activity, but Jason could see the image fine. It contained two children, one asian girl around Jason's age with her hair in a bob, and a older teenage boy with short black hair. They had their arms around each other like a typical sibling portrait, the girl waving at the camera with a large grin on her face. Neither of them looked like the Talon in front of him, though the older boy had the same pallor and blue veins that graced his father. After a minute, the Talon plucked it out of his hands and put it back into his pocket.

"I wouldn't expect anything of you. You'd be under no obligation to join the cause if you wouldn't like; I'd just ask you'd get some training if only to protect yourself. And to wash the dishes once a week." He cleared his throat. "I'd like to give you an education as well, but I'm afraid it would have to be private. Just to keep safe."

Jason thought about it. Really thought about it. Having a warm bed to sleep in. Regular meals. A family. He looked at the Talon with wary eyes.

"And I wouldn't have to kill anyone?"

"Not if you don't want to."

Jason was silent for another moment. He bit his lip.

"I don't even know your name."

The Talon smiled. He pinched the pointer finger of one of his gloves and pulled it off. Then, he outstretched his hand out towards Jason for a handshake.

"It's Bruce."

Jason stared at his outstretched hand. Looked at the veins there, the short clipped nails, the small scars from years of training. Tried to see it as a home.

It didn't seem possible. But Jason didn't exactly have a lot of options. And if he could possibly find a family within the talons' of owls, he was going to take his chances.

With that thought, Jason reached up his hand. Slipped into Bruce's. Gave him one firm handshake.

With that one gesture, Jason transformed from a watchers of owls to actually being one.

Seeing the lair as home was a slow process.

In the first few weeks living there, Jason was constantly alert, worried that he'd been lied to, that Bruce had tricked him here to use as bait for his men. He slept little, one of the knives he stole from the armory tucked under his pillow. When Dick or Cassandra came up from behind to tap him on the shoulder, he jumped every single time, his hands automatically clenching into fists.

Here he was, a boy living among owls. And he was scared out of his wits.

As time passed, however, he began to ease. After a month of living there, it was hard to believe that Bruce would have gone to such an effort to feed him if it was only to kill him in the long run. Training sessions on how to defend himself helped a good deal; Bruce was nothing but gentle when he taught Jason how to throw punches and grip knives. Soon enough, he felt comfortable enough to make fun of Dick's bad jokes. Sitting close to Cassandra as they went over her reading lessons was less intimidating. Bruce coming into his room when he woke up screaming from nightmares proved to be a comfort to his nerves.

Within six months, the lair had transformed into his home, the owls into his family.

Bruce kept to his word. He never pushed Jason on the issue of killing, only asking every once in awhile if Jason wanted to take up the family business. The activities of him and Dick were left to their meetings, any talk of murder banished in the company of Cass and Jason. Living in the lair of Talons was more like living in a normal house than anything else.

The only big difference was the injections. After six months of living there, Bruce asked him to start taking them, a simple fluid that he could take in pill form if he wished. He made sure to explain what it was in detail, how it wouldn't change him unless he died, how dying wasn't going to happen given that he never planned on working in the business.

"It's just a precaution," Bruce had said, after he finished his speech. "Just in case something goes sideways." He'd taken a deep breath, like what he was about to say was actually painful. "You're my son, Jason. I couldn't take losing you."

The son is what convinced him. Jason took the injections, just like Cassandra. He didn't think much of them. They were a safety net, that was all. For five years it remained just that.

It was only once he died that everything changed.

To this day, Jason didn't know how the Joker found him.

He talked about it with his siblings a few times, tried to put together how the vigilante could have connected his face to Court. Dick thought that Bruce might have lost one of his pictures of them on patrol, Cassandra believed that he might have connected Jason's flips across the Gotham skyline when he went out to that of his father. Jason didn't care; the point was that the Joker found him. The Joker tied him to a chair and tried to use him as bait for Bruce. The Joker had killed him.

Jason remembered his last moments before the building blew. The Joker had taken him to a warehouse where they made fuel, the entire place a powderkeg for explosions. He spent most of the time pacing during the affair, just talking to himself, but on occasion he turned to Jason to speak.

"I'm so sorry about this," the Joker said, almost pleading to a child. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I just need-" He ran his hand through his green hair, his expression bleak. "I just need to take him down. Someone has to."

Jason growled at him. It was a guttural sound, one Bruce had taught him to scare those who threatened him. "He's trying to make the world a better place."

The Joker looked at him. Really looked at him. For the first time since he'd been captured, the man smiled. It was a small smile, barely gracing his face, and Jason couldn't help but find it terribly sad with all that makeup.

'He's killing people," the Joker said. "Adding to the dead doesn't make the world a better place. It just makes it darker."

It was right then that the building blew, the inferno swallowing Jason and the Joker with it.

When Jason woke up three days later, his burns still healing, his skin now just as pale as his father's, it took him an hour to start screaming.

Jason became a Talon after that.

There was really no option otherwise. Living in the family no longer meant safety. One of their own had been taken. The resistance was clearly growing more ruthless. If they wanted to survive, they'd have to commit to the mission wholeheartedly.

Jason jumped at the chance. Soon he was going out on missions with Dick and Bruce, climbing buildings, slaying those who preyed on the weak and marginalized. Killing became a weapon in his arsenal to combat life's problems. The uniform of the Talon's became his second skin.

Others joined them. One day a bookish boy joined their ranks, moving from hacker to Talon in under the course of a year. Another, Bruce came home with his long lost son, a sullen boy of ten that everyone loved to mess with. The lines between the family and the army became blurred, business interfering with family matters and vise versa.

Jason told himself it was better this way. That they could do more good like this, working as a unit. That he was doing the right thing. That his nightmares of dead bodies and screaming men were just signs of weakness. It usually worked. Except once.

When Cassandra finally gave into Bruce's demands to kill and came home with bloody hands and a haunted look in her eyes, Jason wondered if they were curing the city or killing themselves in the process.

In late October, after Jason turned 18, he was cornered by one of Oracle's recruits.

It happened because he let it. When he started down eighth street, he already knew someone was on his tail, and by the time he turned the corner onto ninth, he knew it was one of Oracle's agents. He hadn't been doing anything at the time, just wandering the alleys of his home in an attempt to get a better feel for the way the city around them had developed. At first, when he spotted them, he planned to book it. Fade into the shadows. Let this child Oracle decided to send after him get lost on his trail.

And then he noticed it. The red jacket. The curly black hair. This wasn't one of the girls. No, this was the new kid. The latest agent.

Screw blending into the shadows. Screw protocol. Jason wanted to test out the skills Oracle's latest newbie had acquired.

Jason was going to have fun.

He turned another corner, enjoying the sound of his tracker racing behind him. For the last block, Jason had been trying to lose him as best as he could, not in the ways that would actually get him off his trail, but in the ways that would tell him how up to snuff this new kid was. To his credit, the kid was keeping up well. When Jason jumped over a dumpster, the kid followed. When he scaled a building with two knives, the other teen managed to follow him. And when he bounded across a gap that should have sent them both tumbling to the unforgiving street below, both of them made it with little trouble.

The kid was good. The question was if he was good enough to beat one of them. Smirking, Jason reached into his belt to pull out a knife as he jumped down into an alley. He turned up and got himself ready to throw it at the boy on his trail. He hoped he'd manage to dodge it; while his aim wasn't intending to be lethal. If he sidelined the kid, it would really ruin his run for the next month.

So he was rather surprised when a flash drive came over the edge of the rooftop instead of his tail.

Jason's knife dug into the wall of the building, going wide. Still shocked, Jason barely had time to catch the flash drive before it nailed him right in the face. He lowered his hand and flipped it over to get a good look at it. On the back of it was a note.

"To Jason: Watch me alone. Learn the truth."

Jason felt goosebumps run down his arms. How did they know his name? How did they know it was him doing laps today instead of one of his brothers? Oracle knew a lot about them but not that much. If they'd told their recruits that information, they were more of a threat than Jason had perceived.

He gripped the flash drive tight in his fist. He wasn't on patrol tonight. It was time to see what Oracle wanted of him so he could throw it back in their face.

The flash drive was full of files from Bruce's computer.

That was what threw off Jason at first. Bruce's computer was the height of security, off limits to all of them, including Dick. It couldn't be hacked from any outside location. To get onto Bruce's servers, someone would have had to come into the lair in person. To have this information, Oracle must have found them,

Normally, Jason would have reported that information straight to Bruce. Started up the defenses and helped him with the plan to take out Oracle once and for all. But the file folder with his name on the screen stopped him. What had Bruce stored about him? And why was it a secret?

Jason opened the file. There was a collection of audio files inside, Bruce's personal recordings. He clicked on the first one.

As soon as Bruce started to speak, the world crumbled around him.

Personal Log 1123: Took out three targets today; Penny Akadio, Lance Worth and Willis Todd. Easy cases.

Personal Log 1124: Todd's son discovered his father's body. Sloppy work. Must tone down theatrics in cases of targets with children.

Personal Log 1128: Subject Stryx, also known as Mary was found today. Eliminated before she could access proper channels to report my existence. Working on cover for Dick.

Personal log 1149: Found Todd's son today. He shows great promise in our line of work. I have no intention of forcing him into it, but I cannot let him live upon the streets. Have discussed matter with the children; they approve of this course of action.

Personal log 1317: Started Jason on injections today. No side effects.

Personal log 2521: The Joker has taken Jason in an attempt to force my hand. I see no way to retrieve Jason and eliminate the Joker in one attack plan. While not ideal, Jason has enough serum to survive a direct attack on the Joker. I have the explosives prepared; I pray Jason will not perish in this and the serum will only be used as a recovery agent rather than an agent of resurrection.

Personal log 2522: Miscalculated. Jason is now one of us. He believes that Joker set the explosives; I have no intention of correcting him and his siblings. Given this incident, Talon training must be pushed to the forefront. My efforts alone will not cleanse this city, but the efforts of us as a whole may make an impact for us to live safe again.

After the logs end an address came up on screen. Jason stared at it for five minutes. Committed it to memory. Pulled the flash drive out of it's slot.

When Bruce came in an hour later to find the computer display shattered, Jason was long gone.

"Oh look, he showed."

Jason looked at the three teenagers before him and resisted the urge to slaughter them alive. They were in an abandoned warehouse, nothing but the teenagers, some boxes and a computer monitor to take up the space. The monitor was clearly newly attached, hung up on the wall next to them. Jason held up the flash drive in his shaking hand. It took everything he had not to drop it.

"What the hell is this," he snarled. "How did you get this?"

"I asked Santa for it and he decided I'd been a good girl this year," the girl known as Bluebird said. Her arms were crossed and the taser strapped on her back was fully charged.

"I'm not here for your shit!" Jason turned, pointing his finger at her. "You know what I'm fucking talking about. How do you know who I am? How did you get this off of Bruce's computer? Why did you give it to me?"

"You deserved to know the truth," the long boy said, His jacket was zipped up all the way, and his curly black hair was hidden by a knitted cap. Jason felt rage, hot and ugly, flare inside his chest.

"I deserve to know this? I deserve to know I've been played like a fool?" He tried not to crush the flash drive entirely in his grasp. "You guys thought you could just show this to me and I'd come over to your side? Start fighting the good fight?"

The girl in purple raised an eyebrow. "That was sort of the plan."

Jason pulled off his mask. They deserved to see his face for this, see the anger in his eyes. "And why should I sign up with you instead of taking his ass down on my own."

"Because with us, you're more likely to win." The computer monitor flickered to life, the mask of Oracle appearing on the screen. Jason resisted the urge to bury a knife in the middle of the entire display. "You go in there on your own? You'll be slaughtered alive."

"Like you know-"

"Oh I do." Oracle sounded cold with the monotone voice that came out of the speakers. "I know everything. I know who you are, who your siblings are, what Bruce will do when he finds out that you came down here to see me. I know every last detail." There was a beat of silence. "So tell me, Mr. Todd. Are you willing to go to war?"

Jason glared up at her. He could hear footsteps approach from behind and he turned, expecting to see Oracle. He readied himself to throw the flash drive right into their face.

Oracle was not standing behind him. Jason dropped the flash drive.

"Cassie?"

Cassandra looked at him. Her mask was off, and even though Jason thought he could see nerves on her face, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. She looked to the computer display.

"He's ready," she said before looking back to Jason. Her mouth curled up into a bitter smile.

"Hello, little brother."

THE WAR BEGINS
END PART 1