'blah' is thinking

"blah" is speech

blah is Jason and Dick's mind link (It has no quotations of any kind) Let me know if you like it underlined or not. It won't be in this chapter but I want your opinion before I write it in.

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-Flashback-

It had been hours since the boy was brought into the room, and the cold stone was numbing to his bare feet.

The room was kept at freezing temperatures. There were no windows nor vents, only a large metal door. It had no handles on the inside, making it impossible to escape. The room was built to keep people -things- in, not out.

The boy was chained to the wall by his collar and wrists, and his legs were bound to the floor. The metal shackles he wore sliced into his skin with every attempt he made to free himself.

The small child let out an anguished cry, voice cracking as he yelled. The chains on his body rattled as his body trembled. Torn and shredded by the torture he'd endured, his clothes were more or less nonexistent, making the child even colder in the already freezing room. The boy curled into himself, shivering and sobbing silently.

The young Talon looked to be about ten. Far too skinny for his age. His face was too pale to look healthy, in fact, he almost looked dead. The sparkle in his eyes had dimmed and his smile had run away. The room he resided in was for punishment. He had failed...again.

The groan of the heavy door opening forced the child to uncurl and sit up straight. He couldn't be caught lying down. It would only prolong his time here.

His eyes were blinded by the light that shone through the door. The boy peaked through squinted lashes to see the silhouette of a man he knew all to well. His Master.

The child watched as his Master eyed him coldly. How much longer was he going to stay here?

"Mas-"

A loud crack and the thud of a body echoed in the small room.

"What have I told you about speaking, boy?" His Master spat angrily.

The child began to tremble, hiding away in the corner of the room. He knew what came next, and he hated it.

His Master left the room for a moment and returned with a chair, dragging it behind him.

He unlocked the child's chains and pushed him towards the chair. The boy sat down and watched with dreading eyes as his Master locked his arms and legs to the cold steel.

"Since you never seem to learn, it's time we take more..." he paused, pulling a long knife from the sash across his chest, "Drastic measures." He finished, and looked at the child with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

"No! Master! Plea-"

The child's pleas were cut off as a knife plunged into his thigh. The boy let out a blood curtailing scream as the blade was twisted around in his leg.

"What did I tell you about speaking, Talon?" his Master spat, grinning down at him. "You are not to speak unless you are told. Correct?"

The boy nodded his head, burying the scream that was climbing up his throat. His Master grinned and pulled out the knife, twisting the blade as it left. The child bit into his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he did not scream.

His pain did not last long however. He bowed his head and watched as his torn flesh molded itself back together, healing him.

He was a monster now, inside and out, and no one was coming to save him. Batman wasn't coming to save him. He'd given up hope on any kind of rescue after his transformation. After all, who would want to save him? A killer. A monster.

"It seems that the new formula works well on you, doesn't it?" His Master spoke coolly, walking silently around the chair. "You heal much quicker than the rest." he paused, taking in a breath, "You run faster, see better, sense more. But do you know what else that means?" His Master stopped and looked down at the child.

The boy looked up, not making eye contact, and shook his head to the side. The blood from his lip flung onto the floor as he moved. He bit into it harder, holding back a whimper.

"That means," the man continued, "that we get to have much more fun in our little..."he waived his hand around in the air, "tutoring sessions than the rest." he finished.

The child released a small sob and trembled in the cold chair. He wasn't supposed to cry. He wasn't supposed to react to the pain. He wasn't allowed because Talon's don't feel. That's why he was in this room. He felt to much and they didn't like that. Talons were weapons, not people, and he needed to be reset.

The boy's master began to walk around the chair once more, tapping the metal with his clawed gloves.

"I think it's time we try a different method, don't you?" he grinned down at the young Talon, chuckling softly.

The boy's eyes widened in horror and his breath grew quicker. He wasn't going to...was he? The child's heart was pounding now.

"How's your swimming?"

No.

-Flashback End-

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Jason was sitting in his living room chair patching his wounds from the fight. Batman had managed to embed a batarang in his shoulder. It stung but he'd had worse.

Jason had been forced to escape. He had been fighting them for a while -Batman and Green Arrow- before Jason had heard the commotion behind the warehouse. At first he thought nothing of it, but when he was knocked off the roof and saw what it was. Well, let's just say you shouldn't of been in his path.

He had rushed over to the scene, attacking anyone in his way. Taking hit after hit, and yet, he had still failed.

Jason was worried and pissed. Pissed at himself for getting distracted and letting them take Nightwing. Worried about what happened to him. Why was he freaking out? What was the League going to do to him? Nightwing doesn't fair well with new people, Jason had figured that out right away. He just hoped the League would too.

He stood from the chair and tossed his helmet onto the coffee table, his domino mask following. Jason walked towards his kitchen to grab some much needed coffee. He filled his cup, leaving it black, and rested his hip on the counter.

Jason let out an angry growl and slammed his mug onto the granite. What was he going to do? He needed to get Nightwing back. Who knew what lies the League would tell him about the 'Psychotic Red Hood'. Jason didn't want to lose his new friend. His partner. He needed to do something. Jason hated to admit it, but he needed help.

He grabbed the burner cell from his pocket and dialed an old number. He waited in silence as the rings went by. Hoping the person would pick up.

"Come on, come on. Pick up already." he grumbled into the phone. Jason shifted his weight on the counter and picked up his mug again.

The ringing stopped, and Jason held his breath. He could hear the faint exhales coming from the other line.

"Slade? You there? It's me. How fast can you get here? I need your help with something. It's important."

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~Flashback~(Kinda, it's more like a narration but whatever)

The streets of Gotham are a cruel place for a child to grow up. It twists and morphs them into something vile and obnoxious. Their childlike innocence is wrenched away and replaced with thievery and greed. Every shadow holds a secret and every corner leads them down a darker path. However, there are a few that make it out. The lucky ones that get adopted into a good home with lots of money. They go to school, make friends, and live a happy life. Truly lucky. Some children even manage to leave Gotham and its filth behind on their own. Be it by boat, car, or train. They are lucky, yes, but not as lucky as the adopted ones.

Then there are those who stay behind. The children who prosper in the filth by selling drugs and committing petty crime. These children aren't out for long, as most get placed into the juvenile detention center once they're caught. But then, once all those children are gone, it leaves a certain breed of child on the street. The truly evil ones. Whether they know it or not. They are the children that even Gotham barley wants. Children like Jason Todd.

Jason wasn't always one of these evil children. He was a good son with a loving mother and father. He kept his grades up and had lots of friends. He was an overall happy and kind child. Jason was considered to be a privileged boy in the slums, with him having both parents around most of the time. But as everyone says, all good things must come to an end, and in Gotham, this was a well known truth. When Jason was nine, his life began it's downward spiral. His father lost his job and turned to a life of crime. The crime -being part of a mob- was the main cause of his death when Jason was ten. Jason's mother didn't take his father's death well. She turned to drugs: meth, cocaine, heroine. She would take anything and everything she could get her hands on. Jason was forced to watch his mother become a crippled shell of what she used to be. He watched her deteriorate, day after day as she continued to slowly kill herself. And one day, when he was eleven, Jason didn't have to watch anymore.

It's said that tragedy changes people, some for better or worse. Most people have family or friends to help them through their grief, others have nothing, nobody. And since Jason had no one, he chose a darker route to try to heal. He blamed himself for his mother's declining condition. Jason would tell himself that if he had told someone, or got a job to help with rent, then maybe his mother wouldn't have started doing those things to him. Maybe if he kept his grades up and quit skipping school, then his mother wouldn't have been so angry with him. Maybe she wouldn't of said those things or called him those names. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't hate her for causing him so much pain. Just maybe.

When Jason was eleven -just a few months shy of turning twelve- he met a man. Jason had just finished up one of his more unsavory jobs -killing a mob deserter- when the masked man had stopped him in an alley. He asked Jason a barrage of questions about what he had just done and why he was doing it. He asked if Jason understood the depth of taking someone's life. He asked how he learned to fight, and if he wanted to learn more. If he wanted a real teacher. Jason took the man up on his offer, becoming his apprentice. But the downward spiral of Jason's life didn't end there. In fact, that was just the beginning.

The rest, as they say, is history.

~Flashback end~

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A rhythmic beep was the first thing he was aware of when he woke. The annoying beat almost gave him a headache. Well, worse than the one he already had. The stench of medicine and sweet bleach -if bleach were ever to smell sweet- wafted into his nose as he regained his senses, and the soft cushion beneath him warned him of his change in scenery. This wasn't his or Hood's base. The cushion underneath him was to soft to be either of their couches.

Nightwing wiggled his eyebrows, checking to see if his mask was still on. It was, and he was glad to feel the familiar heaviness over his eyes. The mask was always the first thing people tried to remove. It's why he made sure his wouldn't come off unless he touched a certain part of it with his glove. He wasn't going to let anyone see his eyes. He didn't want to hear what they would call him.

Dick tried to move his hand but found that it was restrained. He peaked open an eye from beneath his mask. A stark white ceiling greeted him, and the light was blinding even with all the protection his mask brought. He squeezed his eyes shut and held them tightly closed for a few moments.

Dick opened them slowly this time, giving them a few extra seconds to adjust to the bright room. What would he do if his captors asked about his skin? He knew he was to pale to look healthy, and it's not like the faint blue lines on his neck were well hidden either. What would he tell them? Nothing, he would say nothing. He couldn't say anything. Dick focused his eyes on the objects around room, taking in all the details and mapping any possible escape routes. He needed to have a plan. Surrounding him were a bunch of medical tools and machines, and a few stretchers were lying on the table across from him as well. Where was he? Where was Hood? Was he okay?

He looked down his arm and focused his attention onto his wrist. A polished metal cuff had made itself comfortable there. Dick shook his wrist, testing the strength of the metal. He found that he could easily dislocate his thumb and slip them off, but decided against it until he could get more information about his whereabouts. It wasn't good to escape with a bad plan.

The Court had this seven hour rule they would follow when a Talon was captured. Three hours to create a plan, three hours to escape, and one hour to return to the Court for punishment. If any Talon ever showed up late, even if it was by a few seconds, they would be terminated for abandoning the Court...permanently. Dick himself had come close a few times, but he always made it back within those hours.

Dick struggled to remember what happened at the warehouse. He knew he had gotten wet and panicked, but then everything felt like it was on fire and it all went black. It was strange really, that had never happened to him before, at least with water. Dick was also ignoring the fact that he had been avoiding the liquid altogether...well, except for general cleanliness that is. He wasn't about to run around the city smelling like the armpit of a buzzard's wing. Dick just hated the memories that water forced his brain to remember, so he tended to avoid it.

Dick focused once again on the main problem of his day so far. Where were the people that took him? Did they already know he was awake? He wasn't sure yet, but he was going to assume that they did. They were probably going to make him wait a few hours so he would become anxious and less restricting with what he'd tell them in an interrogation. To bad for them, he had used this method on people before and knew how it worked. All they're going to get from him is silence. So now the question was: Who are they, and when were they coming?

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"I have a plan."

"Is it a good plan?"

"It's a plan."

Deathstroke sighed, he was sitting across from Red Hood on the rooftop. It had been almost midnight when he'd gotten the call from the kid. Jason had sounded pretty worried on the phone so Slade dropped his current contract and rushed over to Bludhaven. He was just hoping it was worth losing the money for.

"Why'd you call me here. What's the problem?" Deathstroke questioned casually, watching Red Hood from the corner of his eye.

"A friend of mine was taken earlier today by the Justice League and I need your help getting him back." Red Hood replied, a hint of anger rising in his voice.

Deathstroke quirked an eyebrow from underneath his helmet. "Who's your friend? Last time I checked you didn't have any." Slade inquired with an amused tone.

Red Hood hesitated a few moments before speaking. Slade took notice of this, but decided not to comment on it. Did Jason not want anyone to know about him?

"...Nightwing. He's the new hero in Bludhaven." Red Hood responded coolly, standing up to brush off his pants.

Slade was interested now. "Nightwing? I've never heard of him. Why would the League take him if he's a hero like them?" he spoke, following Red Hood's movement and stood up as well. What could this guy possibly do to make the League take him?

"Well, they probably want to get him away from me. You know, with me being a villain and all."Red Hood spoke with sarcasm clearly present in his voice as he gestured to the many weapons he had on his body. "But then again, he's not exactly a hero either, but the League doesn't know that." he added seriously.

Deathstroke raised his eyebrows -even if the movement was covered- at the new information. "Elaborate. What do you mean he's not exactly a hero?" He questioned, his voice dripping with an authoritative tone.

"Well, I don't exactly know for sure, but he doesn't consider himself a hero. He also told me that he's killed people before, although he didn't specify how many." Red Hood responded instantly, walking towards the edge of the roof.

"Interesting. Well we can talk later about this. Why don't you tell me about this plan so we can help your friend." Deathstroke suggested, turning to face Jason once again.

"Yeah okay, later then. So here's the plan." Jason waved his hands around in the air as he spoke." Jacob Hall, he's a serial rapist that has been on my hit list for a while now. I was thinking that since 'Wing fell unconscious, they'd put him in some sort of med-bay right? At least until he wakes up. So if the mighty Deathstroke just happens to stroll into town and injure this man severely,-not kill him- than the League will probably come investigate." Red Hood finished.

"Alright, it makes sense so far, but why do we need this guy?" Deathstroke inquired, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm glad you asked!" Red Hood shouted sarcastically, pointing a finger into the air. "I just finished this job for Lex and part of the payment was some tech. Mind linking tech to be exact." Red Hood said knowingly, placing extra emphasis on his words. "So if you injure this guy enough, the League will have to take him back to their hideout to be treated. That will probably put him in the same room as 'Wing."

"Interesting, but why would the League come in the first place? What's so special about this guy that would make them take Jacob back to their base?" Deathstroke asked impatiently, growing irritated as Jason continued to leave out key details.

"Nothing, there's nothing special about him, but the League doesn't know that." He waved his hand in the air dismissively. "They probably want to lock you up, so I figured they'd want to use this guy for interrogation. They'd make sure he lived long enough to give them some information." Jason added.

"Anyway, once Jacob's in the med-bay, he'd give Nightwing this," Red Hood held out his palm. Deathstroke glanced down at the small object. It appeared to be a small com device. It was a pale grayish white and looked to be about the size of a dime. Nothing to special.

"What is it?"

"It's the mind linking tech. Once Jacob discreetly gives it to Nightwing, all he has to do is put it in his ear. It'll hurt for a few seconds but after that, he and I will be able to communicate since I have one in as well." He pointed to the side of his head. "That'll allow us to learn where he's being held, and formulate a plan to rescue him." Red Hood spoke proudly. Obviously happy about the plan he came up with.

Slade hummed in agreement, thinking it over. Evaluating the plan's strengths and weaknesses, and coming up with a few backup plans as well. Jason's idea wasn't that bad, but is wasn't great either. However, it was the best they could come up with on such a short notice though, so it'd have to work. He just hoped that Nightwing was smart enough not to get caught with the com. Their whole plan was riding on the fact that he and Jason would be able to communicate.

"When does the plan start?" Deathstroke asked, eyeing Jason carefully.

Even though Slade couldn't see it, he knew that Jason grinned devilishly from underneath his mask as he spoke his next words.

"Right now."

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Nightwing had been lying motionless on the bed since he'd woken up. Dick had already counted all the ceiling and floor tiles over ten times, counted to one thousand three times, and thought his ABC's eight times. It must of been a few hours by now because he could feel his legs starting to go numb. That wasn't good. Now he wouldn't be able to move as quickly if he were attacked. Quite inconvenient. He huffed out a small breath, growing impatient. Dick knew that he should feel fear about being captured again -restrained- but he'd been through worse. After all, this was nothing compared to what the Court used to do to him. He slowly sat up in the bed and began to wiggle his legs and feet, trying to work the feeling back into them.

Dick had been wondering how much longer he'd have to wait here when the white doors of the med-bay slid open. He looked up to see a few unrecognizable faces alongside a face he'd never forget, slip into the room. Dick's breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to pound in his chest. What if he recognized him? What if he saw through the new costume and remembered the teen that tried to kill him a few months ago? Dick was slightly panicking now and was trying -forcing- his breath to remain calm. He wouldn't let himself get recognized. Not when he was finally starting to heal. Not when he was finally free.

Nightwing remembered the attack all to well. It was always there, every time he closed his eyes. Every word the man spoke to him was imprinted onto his brain. All the words about helping him, and how he was allowed to make his own choices. The lies about saving him. All lies. Dick remembered every wound that he dealt and it felt like a stab to the heart. This man was the reason he left the Court, even if he'd never know. He was the reason Dick vanished and became a hero. But he was also the reason Dick was a Talon. He was the reason Dick could no longer look at himself in the mirror. He was the reason why Dick didn't talk anymore. Child Dick had placed so much hope into this man and was shattered when he never came to rescue him. But maybe being shattered was his own fault, after all, he was the one who placed such blind faith into a man that was more myth than truth.

This man, The Batman, Dick hated him.

But he was also petrified of him too.

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Hey everyone! I'm back!

How did you like this chapter? Let me know in the comments. Do you want anything to happen in the story that you haven't seen yet, let me know! I'll add it in. :)

Also, I hope that this chapter wasn't to confusing. If it is let me know and I'll try to fix it. :) I know I put a lot of backstory in it.

Til next time,

Rachel :)

(P.S) Please Comment!!