Bruce Wayne had watched the Flying Grayson's death. Alfred had told him (i.e. ordered with a disapproving look) for the CEO turned vigilante to take a day off, even if it was going to Haly's Circus. He had walked in as the acrobats hit the ground.

Bruce had sprung into action before he had really processed what had happened. He pulled out his Wayne Tech phone to call GCPD to the scene. Then, he ran to a small group of performers & a man who seemed like the ringleader standing near the scene. Most of them were crying silently, acting too well ingrained to show the true magnitude of grief in front of an audience.

Haly seemed to shake himself before suggesting that the group assist the audience out, offering refunds to those who wanted them. The group nodded before scattering, wiping their eyes as they went.

Bruce glanced at the bodies & was startled to see a young boy kneeling in the pools of blood, sobbing, hands covering his face. It was obvious he was a Grayson with that appearance (black hair, tan skin, & short stature) & reaction. Bruce's heart lurched.

This was why he had created Batman, running around in Kevlar lined spandex (that definitely had to change) every night. To prevent children from losing their parents as Bruce himself had. This boy was younger than Bruce was & Bruce felt was failure as heartbreaking sounds continued to fill the space.

"Do you require anything, sir," the ringleader asked, gaining Bruce's attention, adding, "I'm the owner of this circus, Haly." Bruce turned to face the shorter man, eyes reluctant to leave the boy's form.

"What happened? Does the boy have any relatives to go to?" Bruce knew he sounded strange, but he suddenly was desperate to know. If he could, he would be sure to take in, not adopt (he knew he wasn't parent material), this child, to try & help him as best he could to move past this.

"Yes, his great-grandfather is here, but he's trying to calm our audience right now. I have no idea what happened, on minute the Grayson's are in flight, the next…" Haly broke off, voice choked with emotion. "Who could have done this? The Grayson's were the kindest family I've had the pleasure to know!"

Bruce nodded in understanding, though a strange feeling clenched his heart, like this was a terrible tactical error. Sirens sounded in the distance, police on their way. He turned to console the boy until his relative appeared.

He was gone, no sign of his existence other than the dark drops on the dry floor from tears.

Batman had found the missing child's parents their justice. Tony Zucco was now permanently in jail for his many crimes. The child, Richard John Grayson, was nowhere to be found, however. There was no trace of him anywhere. Neither was there evidence of his great-grandfather, William Cobb.

It had been years since those events had transpired. The boy would be thirteen now, Bruce estimated as he crouched on a gargoyle in full Bat regalia. He had been staking out a rumored drug deal for a hour & a half now with no signs of activity. Strange, this informant was usually reliable.

A movement caught his eye, slinking into the building's third floor window. Batman straightened, retrieving his grappling gun, & shot it toward the building. It easily attached to the crumbling wall above the window.

As he swung over, he ran through suspects. None fit the small & lithe form that had easily slid through that small window opening. As he landed next to the glass pane, a scream pierced the night air, high & feminine. Batman hurried in, a jolt of regret & panic shooting through him. He didn't expect a child covered in blood.

The boy was in a dark brown & black costume, similar to a tunic & breeches, with an owl mask. A plethora of silver throwing knives, one dripping blood in his gloved hand, were strapped to the young child's body. His gloves had sharp claws that clicked against the blades metal. He looked about thirteen. He turned as Batman landed. There was no sign of the victim.

The boy's eyes were a deep, empty yellow. Bruce almost recoiled at how inhuman they were.

"Explain yourself, boy," he growled. The boy only cocked his head, like the bird he was dressed as, then answered in a rasping, heavily accented voice.

"Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head."

Batman narrowed his eyes at that, lenses in his cowl following the movement. That nursery rhyme? Before he could take a step, a knife buried itself into a Kevlar covered shoulder. As he instinctively flinched, the boy fled, leaving Batman to a cold case & Alfred's beratement when he returned to the Cave.

He encountered the boy many more times, only to learn little more than that rhyme. The boy believed himself to be the Talon from the rhyme for some reason. He killed his targets with ease, evading Batman's traps & inventions with acrobatics. Batman had found who he was, though.

Richard Grayson. The boy Bruce had failed so badly. He was now a young man, sixteen & with an acrobat's build. The boy had attacked him many times. Each time he would intone in the same raspy, accented voice, "Batman, The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die."

In the fights after these words, Batman had learned the young man had a high healing factor, broken bones healing in seconds. The yellow eyes would change in brighter lights, turning a clear cerulean blue. The vigilante's theory on this strange occurrence was that the blue pigmentation was better equipped to deal with light, so after his pupils constricted to accommodate, the iris would change to compensate as well.

Flash bangs were a painful & effective way to cripple the young man, as Batman had just proven. Desperate for respite in their latest clash, he had drawn a tiny flash grenade, only as large as a smoke pellet. & tossed it to the rooftop. Covering his eyes & crouching as it went off, Batman hadn't expected such an agonized screech from his opponent.

He rose, watching the teen writhe for a second in horrified surprise. Truthfully though, he should have expected this sort of reaction with how sensitive the boy's eyes were. It caused Richard to flee as quickly as he could, however. Each movement was tentative, meaning he was running blind. Batman gave chase over the rooftops until he jumped down into the street & dipping into an open man-cover, clipping his shoulder on the way down. Batman quickly followed, determined to capture the boy.

He was well into the sewers when something hit the back of his head, hard enough to send Batman into unconsciousness. His last thought was, 'Damn, should've expected that.'

He woke in a white space, the sound of trickling water filling a huge area, judging by the slight echo. No smells (other than sweat, Kevlar & leather, but that was Bruce himself), no other sounds, & smooth, cold stone under his gloved hands. The familiar weight of his utility belt was missing as well. 'Wonder how many people electrified themselves trying to remove it'

He carefully opened his eyes to the room. He was next to a fountain, all white stone as well, a Barn Owl perched on granite, with the fountain's water pouring out of its open beak. No sign of Richard or any other person for that matter.

'Probably drugged water,' he concluded as he stood. 'Now to escape.' He looked around the open space. Three exits leading into long white hallways lit by those fluorescent utility lights high above, unnatural & cold. The right rule seemed prudent in so obvious a labyrinth. He began to walk.

Three days in, judging by thirst, he had drunk the water out of desperation & concluded it was drugged, judging by the bodies appearing & disappearing from his vision. Talon had attacked him twice, each time gaining scrapes & contusions. Each time had been in the fountain, the center of this hell-scape.

Then, as he ran his hand on the wall a week in, a groove caught his attention. He ran light fingers over it again, determining an arrow shape, pointing forward. He was going that way anyway, the hallway straight. 'Had it been left by a previous victim?' Bruce certainly hoped not. At a fork in the path, shadows caught on the ground making him pause. A barely noticeable arrow, pointing left this time. A smaller symbol was underneath it, a curve resembling an owl's talon. He snorted in derision, he wasn't that stupid. He went right.

It happened again when, by estimation, Bruce had been trapped a week & a half. An arrow with a small talon mark trying to point him to the left. The hallucinations had gotten worse from the water he was forced to drink, so he had run disbelieving fingers over the marks before going right again.

He hated those portrait rooms, mocking his efforts with portraits of his decline & other unfortunate souls. All in redwood frames, framed in blood. Two weeks in, the Talon's arrow pointed to the right. Bruce followed in desperation.

Many twists & turns later, he came upon a room full of redwood coffins. The room was just a long hallway, long walls decorated with the same talon marking as the arrows. Each coffin was shut, but only one had a Talon sitting on it. Bruce cautiously walked in, looking around for any other clues as to what this room was designed for.

Each coffin had a child's photograph at the base, smiling or scowling black & white faces. The Talon himself was in his armor, staring at him with yellow eyes.

"Richard Grayson," Bruce greeted, noting how Richard straightened at his last name, like it was an order or conditioning. Strange. Richard inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Bruce Wayne. Batman," was his only answer, "I can set you free, if you wish it." Bruce narrowed his eyes at that. Richard watched impassively, still & silent.

"Why should I trust a child who has tried to kill me multiple times?"

"The Court has clipped my wings fully, forcing talons onto a robin's feet." Bruce watched as Richard's eyes bled into blue once more, a slight hand twitch. He only winced at the white light blaring down onto the nightmarish room, helping prove Batman's theory. "You lose your wings here. I…cannot allow that to occur again."

It was obvious the boy was having trouble speaking, rasped words fumbling as he searched for them. Bruce weighed his options. One hand, an obviously damaged person aiding in his escape. Other hand, this same person was loyal to his enemies by serious conditioning. One hand, he knew how to escape. Other hand, why hadn't he before then? Bruce sighed.

"Help me," he spoke into the silence. Richard nodded, sliding off his perch & striding to the far-left corner of the room. As Bruce followed, he glanced at his new ally's seat & saw that it was a picture of a younger Richard, smiling brightly. The glass was shattered, marring the scene.

A god-awful screeching filled the room as Richard lifted a hidden metal grate that had been painted white to bend in. Bruce walked over. "Where's it lead to?

"Sewer. Go, The Court shall awaken soon." Bruce slid down, already contacting the Justice League.

The Court had fallen to the League's might almost pathetically easy. Once Superman had found freezing Talons was extremely effective, he breathed cold air, freezing all but one. They searched for him after the Court itself had fallen.

Flash had found the wayward Talon in a small, brightly lit, freezing room. Blood stained the walls, but his healing factor was already in effect. It rose shakily at the crimson clad man appeared, hands twitching in its clawed gloves. Superman appeared in response to the SOS Flash sent out. He promptly froze the man, just as Batman appeared.

After a serious ribbing from the black clad man, the Talon was freed.

"Richard, would you like to live with me," he asked. Flash & Superman protested loudly as he was answered.

"Yes, Grandmaster, but call me Dick."

"As long as I am Bruce, not Grandmaster."