I could remember that night all too clearly.. how the adrenaline ran through my veins as I watched from above the center stage, at all the people that were there that night. My mother passed me her words of encouragement, planted a kiss on my cheek as they graced the audience with their elegance. In the air, they were like angels; their swift movements looking as though they were flying. They were my teachers, showed me how to move just like them; how to have agility and use it well. I was told it was something I was born with and that performing was in my blood. I was a people pleaser, I lived for the applause of the audience.. but there was one man that I was more then excited to see that night.

Bruce Wayne. He's that rich guy from this city, some people have even went as far to call him, "the prince of Gotham." I could see him in the front row, watching my parents glide through the air. It was almost time for me to join them in their act, become part of their team. That's when it happened, the thing that would change my life forever. If you blinked, you would have missed the rope snapping; sending my parents down to their deaths. The cheer of the crowd turned to sounds of horror as my parents, the two people who were my whole world crashed to the ground with a giant thud.

"Mom! Dad!" I yell, climbing down to their lifeless bodies. My knees buckled from underneath me as a scream escaped my lips. No, this can't be happening. I ran that through my mind over and over again as I curled my knees to my chest, finally willing myself to sob. For the first time, I wanted to hide myself from the world, not entertain them. People were being escorted out of the tent, the chaos dissipating into silence.

I didn't want to move, I felt if I moved I would get sick to my stomach. If this was some nightmare, I wanted to wake up. I would give anything to wake up to my mother's warm arms around me, coddling me until I fell back to sleep. Just thinking that I would never get to experience their comfort again had me crying even harder. The sick feeling just got worse, threatening release as I grabbed the closest thing that I could get sick into. The soft burn in my throat was nothing compared to the pain in my chest as I buried my face into my hands, another wave of emotion ripping through me.

"Miro, čhavo," a voice cooed as the woman who possessed it picked me up and placed me into her lap. I shuddered. Her embrace, although kind and familiar, was not my parents. I looked up into the eyes of the woman I've known all my life to be my aunt. Her name was Mirela and, just like my parents and myself, was Romani and proud of it. She had started to sing, letting my cries dissipate into hiccups. Aside from my parents, she was all I had left.

"Nais tuke," I told her as she planted a kiss to my forehead. I noticed how she looked at the bodies lying near us, the ones I couldn't look at.

"Let's get you tucked into bed, Richard. I can stay with you tonight, make sure you're okay."

"But-" I choked out, finally permitting myself to look at my parents. Tears began to weld up in my eyes again. My mother, who's smile was so bright and laughter that sounded like bells... it was gone. She lied facedown, in a pool of blood that wasn't just her own. My father's eyes were still open in what looked like horror. "..them." Aunt Mirela closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back to me. She opened her mouth about to speak before we noticed a stranger come into the tent; eyes dead locked on me.

"I can take it care of it for you," he said simply. He came into the light where I could see his face; the face of Bruce Wayne. "I'm sorry to say that I saw what happened."

"Mister Wayne, I'm not sure the child is ready to speak to anybody just yet, not about this." He looked up and her and back to me, a not so happy smile crept on his face as he extended his hand to me. I took it, shocked that I was even face to face with this man. I did wish it could have been under different circumstances.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"R-Richard," I replied. "And thank you.. you know, for offering to take care of them."

"I don't mind. I know what it's like to be in your position; probably better then anyone else here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "My cell number is on there, if you need to talk I'll be there to listen." I took the card from it and placed it into my pocket. I doubt I was really going to call him. Aunt Mirela came up behind me and placed her hands onto my shoulders. "I'll leave you to her Mr. Grayson, try to get some sleep." And that was that. He left the tent without so much as another word.

I honestly didn't even remember walking with Aunt Mirela to the trailer because next thing I knew I was in the shower, letting the warm water sink into my skin. I couldn't cry anymore; I was too exhausted and mentally drained, especially with a million thoughts running through my mind. Would I continue in the circus under my aunt's care. No, she wasn't really related to me. Did my parents even have a will? Would I be put into a foster care system, live with people who were only interested in collecting money off of me?

What if I never felt happy again?

Shut up Dick, stop thinking so much. The water is running cold, get out and go to sleep.

I sighed, turning the water off and throwing on the clean clothes I had sitting on the sink. I shuffled over to my bed and cocooned myself in my blankets. I could hear my aunt moving coming to my door and then to my bed. She placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Richard, I'm going to go back to my trailer and get some things. Will you be okay while I'm gone?"

"Yeah," I replied in a hoarse whisper. "I'll be okay." She planted a kiss on my cheek before she walked out.

The one reason Mirela hated Gotham was because of how it looked at night, dark and deceptive; it made her feel even more guilty for what she was about to do. Richard was only ten, just lost his parents which was no accident at all. Plus, she had grown to adore the Grayson's; treat them just like her own family. She knew what was going to happen all this time, so why was she feeling so heartsick now? The man at the end of the street was waiting for her, they were going together to face the court.

"Nice night for a walk, huh?" he asked, his voice hinting at the rain that had begun to fall just moments ago. His accent was thick with something that seemed like dread.

"Zucco, we have a lot more important things to talk about then that," she told him. They had to make sure nobody was looking or following where they were going. Tony Zucco picked the lock of one of the old warehouses in the city, one that no one would think of entering. He got the door open, a grin on his lips.

"Ladies first," Grinning back, Mirela stepped inside and from there, went over to another door. It was unlocked, a sure sign that they knew the two of them were coming. Zucco followed behind her, traveling down the steps, coming face to face with the same group of people that they both have feared for years.

The Court of Owls.

At first, there was just silence as we were stared down by people with masks that resembled owls. Mirela's heart started beating in her chest a little harder, but from guilt or intimidation she wasn't sure. Finally, one of them stood up, a man with a cane in his hand who walked over to the two of them.

"So it's been done." It didn't sound like a question but the two of them nodded anyway. Zucco stepped next to Mirela.

"I'm quite shocked though. All I did was take the bolts off so the trapeze ropes wouldn't hold, the rope broke before that even happened."

"Still," the masked man spat back. "What was needed to be done was done. And you," he looked at Mirela.

"I have taken the child into my care for now. He's known me for so long and-" she swallowed hard. "He trusts me. He's never going to suspect a thing. I'll make sure everything happens the way you've instructed for it to happen." The masked man simply nodded.

"The two of you did good work. The Court is pleased with your work. I know, it's been a long time to plan for one simple thing like this to happen but it had to be perfect, down to the last detail. Such a shame, John and Mary Grayson were so talented, but from them we got Richard. His training will be hard at first but once he learns, it'll be worth every second you put your own time into. The Court thanks you."

"Sir?" Mirela questioned. "I have to ask because I always wondered. Why Richard Grayson? I know he's talented, anybody with eyes can see that, but there are so many other children in Haley's that could have done just as well a job as one of your Talons."

"We picked Richard because it was the obvious choice. Aside from the fact that he's agile, he was born to do this. I won't go into detail on why since it's really none of your business, but Richard is an asset to us in more ways then one. You two are free to go now." They both nodded and, walking out together, they breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing went wrong, everything went according to plan. Mirela's next job wasn't going to be easy.

She promptly made her way back to Haley's before anybody really noticed she was gone. She hoped she wouldn't wake the poor child asleep inside the trailer as she laid down on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over her as she listened to the boy's breathing; strained and broken as it fell into the silence of the night. She still felt terrible, subjecting Richard to such a fate. The Court of Owls had intentions of hurting and breaking him till the little bit of happiness that was still inside him was broken. She had herself to think about too, though. If she let Dick get taken away or let anything out of the Court's plan happen, she would have been killed. She can still remember the nursery rhyme that her mother told her. It still chilled her to the bone to think of it, how the people of Gotham told their children the same tale.

"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."

She could feel a tear streaming down her cheek as she walked to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. This was a child's life she was taking away; she already lived hers.

"Oh my God," she whispered to herself, staring at her reflection. "What have I done?"