Dick enjoyed swinging across the sky, especially at night. The black night is the roof of the circus tent, the billboards on skyscrapers stage lights. Like a newborn hawk he flitted across the sky, one step ahead of Red Robin in seeking out criminals.

And as for Tim, rather than a vigilante, he seemed more like a supervisor tonight. He'd stop Dick should the latter showed any signs of impulsivity, and today, his charge seemed extra agitated.

Just now, Dick had struck a criminal so hard on the throat that the man went into shock. Red Robin had to give him emergency aid, injecting the poor guy with epinephrine to force restart his heart. Dick paced listlessly on the side, wanting to do something to help but not knowing how - he only knows how to kill, not to save.

When the ambulance dragged away the man, Dick's shoulders slumped. He glanced guiltily at Red Robin. "I'm very sorry. I didn't want to kill him... I just..."

"Dick, this isn't your first time out on patrol." Red Robin pulled his hood off, revealing a face much younger than his words. "I thought you'd be able to control yourself by now - as you've shown in the past. What's wrong?"

"I'm just worried," Dick turned his face, unable to face Tim's piercing gaze.

Since that night at Jason's old apartment, the gap between the two of them had not closed with their physical intimacy, but widened. Now they seemed like two people on either side of a cliff, wanting to talk but could not risk to yell.

Tim guessed the reason almost immediately. "Jason?"

Dick opened his mouth, not knowing where to start. Tim waited patiently.

"Do you all think we are inseparable?" Dick asked at last.

"Uh, is that not the case?" Tim said. You are like the same person , he added to himself.

A splatter of rain picked up, smashing against their bodies without warning. Soon it picked up until threads of water streamed from the sky; shards of ice embedded within the water, clinking on the ground. Even the homeless had now sought shelter from the sleet.

Tim and Dick didn't move, remaining standing in the rain, the water sliding off of their armour. The water blurred their vision and forced them to raise their voices.

"To be honest, our views had never coincided."Dick said, his breath solidifying into white smoke as it escaped. "He has his plans, I have my conscience. Neither of us are one to compromise. We fought a lot, but could never really leave each other."

"And why are you fighting now?"

"Not exactly a fight. He..." Dick wiped the water away from his goggles. His blue eyes filled with confusion and pain. He managed a smile at Tim. "I wanted to say that he's changed. But I had no right to accuse the Court of doing that to him. We've both changed - and some things need not be said to know that we'd never agree."

"You could try getting to know each other again. For you, I don't think this would be too difficult."

"I don't know how to start. He was never someone who's easy to read - even more so now. And he's turned dangerous and easily angered."

"But haven't you noticed? Todd always follows you with his eyes. I don't think that's the kind of look that belongs to someone who's trying to hide." Tim paused, giving Dick a moment to digest his words. "Why not try it? He's always wanted you to understand him - he's just waiting for your reply."

Tim was right, but Dick had been trying to ignore the signs. Jason's confession at the old apartment burdened him. His wish had been simple; he'd never wanted Jason to kill for him.

Let's forget everything, and go a place where no one could recognize us. And live together. As long as we are together. Dick had wanted to tell Jason this, but Jason seemed to see it as an impossible dream.

Their earpieces crackled. Alfred's voice cracked through the transmission: "Emergency. Red Robin. Talon. Batman asks you to save the people on this list."

A hologram blinked into existence onto Red Robin's transmission device. Endless scrolls of tiny texts rolled across the projection. Tim scanned it, recognizing many of the names as speakers who frequent major media outlets.

"Alfred, what's the situation?"

"The Court has sent countless Talons to attack the manor. Master Bruce found this list on one of their devices. Tonight, the Court not only wants to kill Batman, but also anyone else that could get in their way!"

Dick frowned. He was familiar with the methods of the Court. Those Owls, used to lurking beneath the surface, would never use such open, brutal methods. They'd rarely grant execution to their enemies, preferring to torture them endlessly. To these people, the display of wealth and intelligence ranked far above brutal force. Even the Talons were simply a means for them to dispose of the lowly peasants that refused to comply with the rules of their game.

The people on this list did not match their modus operandi.

"What about the security system in the Batcave?"

"Shut down by Mr. Todd. He's the one that led them here."

Tim glanced at Dick, whose face bleached of all colour. The former Talon clenched his jaw, the lines of his cheeks hardening.

"How's the Knight? And you, Alfred?"

"We have everything under control. We've frozen them with liquid nitrogen. Their artificial blood makes them susceptible to cold."

"And Damian?"

"He was knocked out and placed into the mouth of the T-Rex. The Talons didn't find him."

The work of Jason.

"Alright," Tim said. "I will check on everyone on this list with Dick. Please contact the Birds of Prey and Oracle."

"Very well, Master Timothy. Let's hope no tragedy has occurred yet."

Tim closed the transmission and turned back to Dick, but he was already gone.

Multiple islands surround Gotham, most of which used as important ports controlled by multiple corporations. But a few islands maintained their neutrality - a rare case in such a competitive city. Some say that those islands had been bought by the rich of Gotham as vacation homes by the sea. Other say it's because nobody wanted to invest in such a new piece of land when there are better investments within the city

Sullivan island is one such untouched island. From the distance, it looked almost feral, with forests cracking up the cement roads and bridges about to collapse. It was once an affluent place, owned by a world-famous businessman. But he'd committed suicide after an economic depression threw him into poverty. He took his life on this very island. Since then, no one had wanted to buy it, for fear of contracting bad luck.

Bruce had visited here in his childhood - at the time, he was certain it was the Court of Owls that killed his parents. To discover the truth, he'd combed the island through, yet finding nothing but rot and mould. He'd almost died, having been trapped here. And since then, he hadn't believed in the stories.

When Jason first heart of this from Damian, he admired that a prissy young master could find this place just from his own research. Bruce Wayne had the truth almost within his grasp, but luck had other plans. Had Bruce Wayne came to this island on the days when Court was in session, the end would have been different.

Rain continued, but let up a little. Jason threaded in between the withered forest, his breath coming out in white puffs Mud and leaves stuck to the bottom of his shoes and he made his way up the stairs.

After his teacher had commanded him to disable the Wayne Manor's security systems, he was ordered to come to Court immediately. Here in the ruined manor by the sea, the former leader of the Talons would ascend to become the new Judge. Anyone opposing him would be gifted with poisoned wine - a rare mercy.

The manor had been built along a cliff at the edge of Sullivan island. After continual exposure to the elements and with no maintenance, the paint had already peeled off of the walls, leaving behind the drab grey skeleton. There were no windows, but ragged curtains sometimes would peek through on windy days. The door, wide enough to fit four people across, was mounted with the statue of an owl. It glared at jason.

More owls awaited him inside. Sculptures and paintings of the bird was everywhere.

Unlike most birds, owls do not build their own nests, preferring instead to take up hollowed tree trunks, caves, and the nests of others.

The main hall stood in the centre of the second floor, its doors only partly closed. Light filtered through the crack, waiting. Jason pushed them open. The smell of blood assailed him. He glanced around, brows furrowing.

Members of the jury lay strewn across the floor or slumped on the long table. These aristocrats of Gotham stared up in horror at nothingness, their expensive clothing tainted with blood, their mouths open. Blood pooled on the floor and had not yet fully congealed, staining the expensive Persian rugs. The flickers from the fireplace reflected the glassiness of their eyes, frozen at the instant before death.

Stepping over the bodies, Jason inspected a couple, noting the efficient and professional wounds that could have only been caused by Talons. One of the victims had even drawn his gun, but before he could shoot, both the gun and his arm had been cut clean off. His expression was frozen in surprise and terror.

Jason placed a white mask over his face.

Deeper into the room, at the back of the balcony, came the prosecutor's voice.

"You are amazing, old bag." he snickered. "I underestimated you to have discovered my plan, even sending so many Talons after me."

Through the glass doors, Jason saw his teacher face to face with the old Judge. The older Talon was covered in blood, but no wounds. His uniform, however had been completely ruined. Even the most skilled assassin could not have escaped completely unscathed from the attacks of multiple Talons. Yet in spite of this, the prosecutor seemed to have lessened none of this enthusiasm.

"Guess you never imagined that I didn't die. Ha!" the prosecutor, normally collected, burst into violent laughter. He pulled off his hood, revealing his dead eyes, glinting like will o'wisps in the dark. "It's because of the Lazarus water. You thought I was researching it for you? No, I would never die as long as I have it. I will always live, always young, and always the master of Gotham!"

Comparatively, the old Judge shivered from the cold sea breeze. His face showed not a thread of fear nor anger, but sadness. He opened his mouth and said something, and Jason stepped closer to listen.

"Thomas, you've overstepped your boundaries. According to the rules, you should have been executed. My goal for the Court today was to have the Jury spare you, to give you one more chance. Had I given the orders, do you think you'd have had the chance to inject the water?"

"I've no need of your pity!" Thomas waved his arm, the sword in his hands arcing in a white light as blood was flung from the blade. "I'm indestructible! What can you rotten windbags understand? Compared to the ones I've killed, you all are nothing! Weaker than nothing!"

The Judge replied with a brief silent, studying his favourite Talon. At last he sighed, lowering his proud head. "You are so impatient, Thomas. This would have belonged to you as soon as I die - you'd be the master of all this."

Thomas glowered. "Why would I want something that was given to me, as if I were some beggar, when I could have taken it for myself? I'm a Wayne. Gotham is my birthright!"

"Do you really believe your are Thomas Wayne Jr.?"

Thomas froze, staring at the Judge's weathered face. "What?"

"You are but one of many orphans taken in by the Court," the Judge said. "They all have black hair and blue eyes, features typical of a Wayne. You were given the best education, the mannerisms of upper society, and the belief that you are Thomas Wayne Jr." Cruelly, the Judge peeled back their entire plan. "We were waiting for the chance to kill the weak heir to the Waynes, and to replace him with one of our own. Too bad, Bruce Wayne not just survived. He'd become our greatest enemy."

"That's not... true..." Thomas said, confusion clouding his eyes. "I'm Thomas Wayne..."

"That plan had failed more than ten years ago. According to the rules, you all should have been destroyed. But I chose you to continue the training, to be my best soldier..." the Judge smiled, mocking both himself and the man before him. "To be my son..."

"No...no...no!" Thomas whipped around, his hands shaking until he almost dropped his weapon. He itched to slaughter the man before him, but he could not bring himself to no listen to what he was saying.

"I've always considered you my child. I've never married nor had children. My everything would have been yours." the Judge repeated, his ancient voice cracking. "Even when you aren't Thomas Wayne, you could still rule Gotham as my son....comparable to any Wayne."

Thomas stared at him, remembering the times when they shared something akin to family between them. It was this old man who raised him from a lowly Talon to the Prosecutor, to be given a position higher than any other members of the Court. Against all the opposition, the Judge had raised him.

"Come here, my child."

Dazed, Thomas limped forward, and kneeled before him.

"I forgive you for what you did. We can use this chance to rebuild the Court, and get rid of those unworthy."

"Is that true?"

"Of course, you are my proudest child."

Jason emerged from the darkness. "How touching," he said, mirth colouring his voice. "But you actually believed it?"

The two on the balcony turned towards him. The cloud of confusion in Thomas's eyes dispersed. The Judge, however, stared in shock, and then anger.

It amused Jason. "If this son of a bitch hadn't used these kind of tactics throughout his term, you think he could've stayed alive this long?" Jason pointed at the old man's face, contorted with rage. "Look at him now, caught in the lie."

Thomas straightened, silently judging both. A moment later, he closed his eyes, and backed away.

"Shut up, you little runt!" the Judge said, unable to keep himself in check.

Jason laughed out loud. "Did you really inject yourself with Lazarus water?" he asked his teacher.

Thomas opened his eyes, and looked at Jason, who saw himself in that gaze. "The Talons had wounded me badly. I need the real stuff to recover."

"How many?"

"Shut up!" the Judge screeched. "Shut up! You demon!"

"Five shots."

Jason grinned, green eyes flitting in between the two of them. He'd never imagined that a day would come when he could manipulate the fate of the most powerful figures in Court.

Terror streamed along the creases of the Judge's face. It's over.

"That amount would make people confused for quite a while."

Thomas approached the Judge once more, the hesitation gone from his eyes. He ran the old man through his sword, the blade piercing through the back of the wheelchair.

A gurgling noise bubbled in his throat, the Judge stared in disbelief as he reached out with his withered hand. It arched in a shape like the claws of an owl as he grabbed at Thomas.

"My... child."

Then the old owl died.

Thomas did not let go of the sword skewered through the old man. He turned towards Jason, his gaze piercing as he studied Jason's young and powerful face, as if he'd kill him the next instant. "Tell me, do you think what he said was true?"

"You don't need to ask me, my lord Judge." Jason bowed, shifting his gaze towards the ground and not the eyes of a dead man. "You are the new master here."

Thomas nodded, satisfied. He let go of the sword. Turning towards the night sky, he laughed as he screamed at the tumultuous sea. "That's right! I'm Thomas Wayne Jr.! No one can doubt me! I'm Gotham's master! Anyone who dares to oppose me...shall taste their own blood."

Jason squinted as he studied his shoes.

The cards had been reshuffled, and even the players had changed.