#he did nothing wrong he is 100000% right he is pure he is a saint

[thequantumranger]

Raúl Esparza in Season 23 of Law & Order: SVU (1999-)

[dickie-gayson]

Me and the Devil

Jason Todd was tortured and killed by The Joker and Dick Grayson had disappeared; murdered by the Court of Owls.

But everyone knows a Robin Redbreast in a cage puts all of Heaven in a rage. And even dead birds can fly again when the Gods demand it.

So, when the Talon catches wind of a new crime lord gunning for the Bats, he goes to investigate. After all, birds of a feather flock together and nobody clips a Robin's wings and lives to laugh about.

Characters: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd, Talon!Dick Grayson

Warning: Violence

Pairing: None

Genre: Supernatural? Crime? Horror? idk lmao

Words: 3k+

Other Parts: --

Also: I take prompts/requests. Can be found on FF here and Ao3 here

Notes: Mori Shej is 100000% still being worked on, I promise! I'm halfway done with the next chapter, this has just been in my head. ngl this is a self-indulgent fic. There is basically zero canon-compliancy here. Just consider it a total AU. I've been wanting a fic where Talon!Dick and AK!Jason meet.

"If you could only see the beast you've made of me I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground"

In the belltower of the abandoned Saint Louise de Marillac Cathedral in Old Gotham perched an unholy, subhuman creature wearing the face of a hero. It was truly a nightmare to behold with it's garish blackened veins against lifeless chalky skin. The luminescent yellow eyes that lit up the shadows only added to the grotesque imagery. That it took the church as its temporary home was a travesty of the most profane form. The Talon had been quite handsome once upon a time and so good at heart. That was years ago, before The Court of Owls plucked Nightwing from the rooftops and brought him to their home in the sewers. The horrors that occurred behind those granite and lime walls were unimaginable. They twisted Dick, made him into a cold, cruel monster and they suffered dearly for it.

It was their fault, really. What did they expect, taking a highly trained hero and corrupting him down to the core through torture? Loyalty? No, Dick Grayson was far too stubborn and spiteful to bow his head to his captors. He could play the game though. He could play it with the best of them. For years he pretended to be their subservient little pet; their lethal weapon of mass destruction. When the time was right and they grew comfortable with the horror they created, he struck them down. It had been pure chaos. Only the other Talons posed a threat to him, and hardly so. Before he was given the serum, the Talons had been a challenge, but he could still hold his own. Now that he had their very same abilities? It was laughable how he tore through them. The utter fear in the Parliament members' eyes when they finally realized what Hell they unleashed on themselves was oh so delicious. Each and every one of them was hunted down and executed without exception. They paid for what they'd done in blood.

The last thing Talon remembered before the Court got to him was his frantic search for his missing little brother. Upon his escape and after the systematic capture and execution of the Court, he took to hunting his old family out of curiosity. Dick needed to know why he'd been left to the torture the Parliament put him through; why he was abandoned in the sewers of Gotham to become the monster he was now. What had been so important that nobody rescued him?

It hadn't been hard to get into the Cave and find what he needed. The memorial cases displaying his Nightwing and the Robin suits would have left an odd feeling in his chest, but emotions had all but been stripped from him. Now he was only hollow and so very, very cold inside. It was in his temporary 'roost' that he watched that video. The brutal torture and death of Jason Todd at the hands of The Joker played out on the dimmed screen of his tablet. The piercing 'bang' of the final gunshot may as well have been the sound of the last nail in the coffin for the clown. Talon knew exactly who was next on his list. Nobody clipped a Robin's wings and lived to laugh about.

The whispers of The Arkham Knight reached him in his hunt for the Joker. Word spread through the underground of a newcomer armed to the teeth with a getup like Batman and gunning for the Batfamily. It was more than enough to pique his interest. Curiosity was always a strong point with Dick and that was something no amount of torture could take from him. So, he waylaid his hunt for a brief period to figure out who was encroaching on his territory. After all, if anyone was going to do some bat-hunting, it was Talon.

That's where the stalking began. He dogged the armored man's every step. From his hideout near the Bowery district to the base of operations in an abandoned shipping facility between Otisburg and Burnley. He could go nowhere without Talon shadowing him. The man had damn good instincts. From the way he looked around, often in the direction of Talon, indicated that he could sense he was being followed. It was almost amusing how paranoid the man became. Cameras were set up all over the place, state-of-the-art security systems were installed, and extra guards were positioned. Not that it stopped the highly trained assassin from slipping through it all.

The new gang seemed to be laying low. If Talon had to guess, it was to avoid unwanted attention of the vigilante sort. His constant watching led him to learn the man was indeed planning a big move against the hero. Talon grew bolder in his movements as his curiosity rose. Soon, he was searching through the office and even rifling through the masked man's various hideouts. That was when he learned that it was not some new crimelord in the making, but rather his 'deceased' brother, Jason Todd, beneath that helmet. He wanted to rip the mask off and see for himself that the dead bird wasn't quite so dead. Talon grew nearly obsessive with his stalking. He felt a sort of kinship with the hero-turned-criminal. Both had been snatched from the Bat, both had been tortured, both had been presumed dead (though it was a little truer in Dick's case), and both had been forgotten by their so-called 'family'. All they were anymore were empty suits in display cases and cautionary tales of what happens when one flies too far from the nest.

Perhaps he grew a bit possessive of his brother and killed those that conspired against The Arkham Knight. Perhaps he grew a bit obsessive and watched the man at nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment. Why shouldn't he be? That was his brother, his successor. It was his responsibility to make sure Jason suffered no longer. He failed his brother once already and he'd make damn sure he didn't fail again.

For weeks now, The Arkham Knight had the eerie feeling of being watched. At first, he searched but found no one. Then, he thought it might be his rampant paranoia growing worse. After all, the time to attack Batman was growing near and it was setting his nerves on edge. However, he wasn't entirely convinced it was all in his head. So he decided to ramp up security discreetly. He had extra eyes around the facility, hidden cameras in every nook and cranny, security systems to rival the Cave's. Still, nothing came of it. That would have put his mind at ease, but the feeling only increased. It even followed him to his hideout. In an act of desperation to escape the eyes, he dropped everything and picked out a new hideout. Jason made sure to take obscure routes to throw off any stalkers upon entering and exiting his new place.

The feeling was gone, but only for a short period of maybe two days, before it resumed. It made the man want to tear his hair out. He didn't want to admit the rising fear he felt, but it was absolutely undeniable. The nightmares only worsened from there. There was a constant thickness in his throat and a buzzing beneath his skin. Jason felt on the edge of panic at almost every point. It was a good thing he had full-body armor to cover his discomfort from the world. Sometimes when the anxiety got to be too much and the walls felt like they were closing in, he would lock himself in his office or his room and try to calm himself down through meditative techniques. The fear was all the worse because he had no idea who was following him so closely. The possibilities nearly petrified him.

That fact brought the anger he was oh so familiar with. The heat of rage was almost comforting in these times. He could handle anger. Hell, it was one of his driving forces at this point, but fear? He had too much of that at this point. He was sick to death of being scared of painted freaks and crowbars. More than once he caught himself screaming at nothing to come out already. Jason was so on edge. He just wanted them to stop. But no one ever came forward and he felt slightly silly for shouting into the shadows. He just couldn't help it.

Once, he thought he saw glowing yellow eyes watching him in the hallway of his hideout. Jason immediately went on the offensive and tried to catch the stalker. However, when he got closer, the corridor was empty. He searched top to bottom, every last corner and hiding spot, but he was alone. An acrid taste had coated his tongue and he was afraid he really was losing his mind. Jason thought he escaped the madness of the Joker, but it seemed he was wrong. It only followed him home. He nearly vomited at the realization. It crushed him on a soul-deep level and left him trembling in despair.

Jason had screamed and screamed and beat his fists into the walls as if they were responsible for his state. There was a pounding in his head that wouldn't subside. Laughter shrieked in his skull, so real he couldn't help the tears that burned his eyes. His fists nearly broke from the force and abuse. That night, he didn't sleep a wink. The next night he abandoned that destroyed hideout. Oh, how he wanted to blow the building sky high as a catharsis, but he couldn't. It'd draw the wrong attention to him too soon.

Unknown to him, those luminous eyes were very real and watched his breakdown with rapture. Nightwing would have wanted to comfort the distraught man. But Talon was only interested in seeing the man come undone. The intense reaction was so interesting. The sheer volume of Jason's emotions was almost addictive to watch. Dick felt so incredibly empty inside, like his heart had been carved straight out. To see the fire of Jason's spirit left him hungering. He craved that heat; wanted to tear his brother's chest open, consume him whole, and fill the abyss left in place of his own lost soul. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so cold and hollow. If Dick had even the barest trace of his old self left in him, he'd be utterly horrified and downright sickened at the thoughts running back and forth through his mind. That man was long since dead.

Tonight, The Arkham Knight was running a deal between his own gang and the Falcone on a shipment of weapons. Talon slipped through the security as if it didn't exist and perched in the dark of the rafters. This deal was going to get very interesting. Carmine had no intention of playing fair with the newcomers. He wanted to 'show them their place'. It was going to get bloody, and that's why he sent a lieutenant in his place. Well, Talon was going to make sure 'The Roman' got his message loud and clear. No one was allowed to mess with what was his.

Jason had that feeling of being watched again. He tried to ignore it as he conducted the deal, but that was growing increasingly difficult. It was as if someone were trying to pick him apart through sight alone. Like a mantra, he reminded himself that it wasn't real. It was all in his head. That is, until smoke started forming around his business partners. It was a familiar sort of smoke screen, like that of a pellet he used to carry as Robin. He started to internally panic, thinking the Bat had found him out already. It was almost instinctive to draw his gun and hold it at the ready.

The frantic cocking of the others' guns had him yelling out for everyone to stand down in an effort to prevent friendly fire. His helmet allowed him to see thermal imaging through the thick cloud. It wasn't Batman that dropped into the smoke, however. The figure was far too sleek in build to be Bruce and moved like liquid. At first, he thought it was Nightwing, back from wherever he disappeared to. The fluid way he flipped around screamed of the hero. But then Jason noticed the knives. Bodies dropped like flies around the unknown intruder. Screams filled the air and before he could get a shot off, the group sent by Falcone were dead. All except one.

As the smoke cleared, he got a good look of the assassin. In Jason's opinion, the owl mask was fucking stupid looking, but the rest of the outfit screamed 'professional killer'. He had lethal looking clawed gauntlets with what looked like throwing knives poking up like feathers and a bandolier of more throwing knives strapped to his chest. There were even more knives on his belt and God knows where else. Jason knew those claws could rend flesh because he saw the man take out a few throats with what seemed like casual swipes.

The last of the guest entourage was held by force before the man. The way the assassin had him kneeling was very close to that of the execution position. One of his many sharp blades was pressed snugly against the mobster's throat in such a way that even a wrong flinch could prove fatal. Those hideous goggles were staring directly at Jason but the knife-happy killer made no move to end the man. Jason had his gun trained expertly on the other's head. After a brief staredown, Jason spoke up with anger.

"You have one chance to give me a good reason not to put a bullet through that fuck-ugly mask of yours."

What he got in response was a slow, almost avian-like tilt of the head. Truthfully, it was downright creepy and made him want to pull the trigger. Before he could, though, the man spoke. Jason had to listen closely as the mask distorted his quiet voice.

"Confess."

He was about to respond with a resounding 'what the fuck' when he realized the assassin wasn't talking to him, but to the man in his grasp.

"What the hell do you mean?! Carmine's gonna hear 'bout this!"

The masked killer leaned down slowly until he was nearly brushing against his captive's face. Talon knew the man was lying. They had all been in on the plan. He had already taken out the reinforcements on the way in.

"Confess."

The way his voice dropped, frigid and soft, was frightening on a primal level. The mobster's shaking was visible even to Jason. The sentiment of 'what the fuck' still applied pretty heavily to the situation at hand. It seemed that was all it took to break the man. He cried out with a voice pitched high in fear.

"Alright! Carmine was plannin' on clippin' some of ya 'n musclin' in on the rest! Just lemme go! I won't say nothin' to the boss, I swear!"

Jason's blood boiled at the scheme. He knew doing business with the Falcone was tricky at best, especially since they were new on the scene, but this? Oh, that Sicilian fuck was going to pay. He was brought out of his angered planning when his apparent ally spoke up.

"Omerta, Jimmy. Omerta."

At the word, the man struggled briefly before stopping once the blade began cutting into his neck. He was all but crying at this point. Jason would say he felt for him, but he was a little too pissed to sympathize with the little shit. 'Jimmy' broke the code of secrecy and was fucked no matter which way he looked. It was tempting to just put a bullet through his head right now, but Jason decided to wait and see what the assassin was planning on doing with the man. Then he'd cap this waste of space and ship his body back to Carmine. 'The Roman Empire' was going to come crumbling down after this, he'd make sure of it.

Talon had no more use for the man. Any other knowledge was above the low-level thug's paygrade. Dick had heard far more in his time spying on the gang than this man was granted access to. All he needed was a solid confession, which he just got. His attention drifted back to The Arkham Knight. The gun pointing at him was of no concern to Talon. Bullets, at best, only slowed him down anymore.

"It's your head they came for, Knight. How would you sentence him?"

His voice, just as before, was all but a whisper. Jason was thankful for the enhanced audio of his helmet, otherwise, he'd have trouble hearing the lilted voice. The masked man was poised as still as a statue, ready to execute Jimmy if he gave the word. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about the unknown assassin at this point, though he was relatively certain that this was the one who was stalking him. That would most definitely be addressed later. For now, he had a rat to deal with.

He walked around the table, gun still pointed at the knife-wielding man in case he tried anything funny. When he stopped in front of the two, Jimmy was basically hyperventilating and blood dripped from the worsening wound on his neck. Jason noticed the knife had been shifted to prevent accidental death. This guy was really serious about letting Jason decide his fate, it seemed. It might be flattering if the guy weren't so damn creepy. He still wanted to at least stab him a few times for stalking him.

"I got it from here."

That earned him another one of those odd, bird-like head tilts. Then, the thug was pushed toward Jason in a sort of sacrificial manner. Before he could try to flee, Jason grabbed his collar and lifted him up to eye level.

"You're gonna deliver a message to your boss for me, Jimmy."

The man shook like a leaf as Jason spoke. The fear was evident in the way his voice raised and stuttered over his words.

"S-sure thing, Mr. Arkham Knight sir. Whatever ya s-say."

Jason was smirking beneath the helmet. The deference given to him for his position in the underground crime scene took a bit of getting used to. It wasn't the same sort of respect and fear that Robin had gotten him. Robin scared criminals because that meant prison and The Bat. The Arkham Knight scared criminals because he was either their boss or their rival, and rivalries usually ended in death. They feared for their freedom with Robin. They feared for their life with Knight.

"Never said you needed to be alive to deliver the message."

Before the man could make another peep, Jason threw him to the ground and shot him through the head. He made an indistinct motion for this whole mess to be cleaned up. There was a whole lot of work to be done now that the Falcones pissed him off. But first, there was a certain bird-themed stalker he needed to take care of. He turned around, ready to start grilling the masked man, but was surprised to see the facility assassin-less. The fact that he just got Batman-ed by some guy in an Owl mask made his eye twitch.

"Where the fuck did he go?!"

A few of his men pointed upward. Jason followed the line and immediately picked out the sunroof he could have sworn he reinforced, welded shut, and set up with alarms to prevent just this. He wasted no time in grappling up to the spot and inspecting the window. If the killer had slipped through here, he took the time to rearm the alarms, much to Jason's frustration. The fact that he even knew how to deal with his security system made the situation significantly worse. This was Bat-level tech. Who in the hell knew how deal with Bat-level tech? It set his teeth on edge.

The guy was probably expecting Jason to disarm the alarms and slip out to find him. A diversion tactic to buy him more time to escape. Well, Jason said 'fuck that'. He slammed it open and let his men deal with the blaring sirens now. There were more important things he had to deal with. Like catching a homicidal stalker that liked to cosplay as a bird. The head start he got from slipping out when Jason was distracted made this all the trickier. But he was trained by the Bat, and if there's one thing Jason can do right, it's hunt someone down.

His hunt, however, was cut short when he swung over to the neighboring building and was met with a pile of dead bodies. Jason nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. There was at least twelve people stacked together and bleeding out over the rooftop. He needed to take a brief moment to recompose himself before assessing the situation. He recognized a few faces vaguely as belonging to a few ranking members of the Falcone. They were strapped with some heavy weapons. Jason had a growing feeling he knew exactly what happened and who did it. That's when the white sheet of paper caught his attention.

Someone, he was betting that black-clad assassin, pinned a note to one of the bodies with a fucking knife. He reached over and ripped the note off. It was a bit difficult to read the somewhat messy lettering when he opened it due to the blood smeared all over the paper, but he managed. The note was short, sweet, and to the point.

You're welcome, Baby Bird.

That was it, but it made his blood run cold. Nobody knew who he was before The Arkham Knight. Jason was really, really hoping it was just a stupid nickname the guy chose to keep on with the bird-theme and not a reference to his time as Robin. It couldn't be. Jason Peter Todd, the second Robin, was legally dead. He wasn't in the system any longer. It was just a name picked by an obsessive freak with a bird fetish. That didn't stop his gut from churning at the thought. He radioed to his men, informing them of the mess that needed to dealt with up here.

Just across the way and perched on a billboard sat the Talon. His enhanced vision allowed him to watch Jason quite clearly, even from this distance and darkness.

"Don't worry Little Wing, nobody will hurt you again. I'll kill them all first."

He watched until The Arkham Knight returned to the compound, out of his sight. Then, Talon turned and started making his way toward the high-end area of Gotham. There was a certain crime lord that made his list tonight.