Dick should’ve known that a peaceful night would be too much to ask for in Gotham.

Honestly, the more time he spends away from the city, the more he starts to believe that it’s a bit cursed. There’s got to be something in the water— other than toxins from various rogue attacks. The worst part? This experience doesn’t even make the top ten worst of his his life.

He’ll back up.

Dick was grappling across the city on his designated patrol route, wanting to get to Guilford Avenue before the clock strikes two and the chili dog vendor over there closes— because it was a peaceful night— when he saw a shadow slip into a window of one of the more expensive penthouse apartments. Shadows don’t just do that on their own. He had a bad feeling from the get go.

So he followed it, slipping inside himself, only to find a dead body— he believes the man was the Secretary of the State of New Jersey— and a very out of place assassin.

Because this assassin doesn’t look any older than fourteen. They can’t be, they’re too short, he can see traces of baby fat on their cheeks. Their ashen cheeks, and that’s when he recognizes the symbol across their chest.

So the Court of Owls is taking children to turn into their puppets now.

Dick’s heart aches at that thought, but right now, his main concern needs to be how he’s going to subdue the Talon. The kid just killed someone, yes—but depending on how they act, maybe there’s hope left for them.

He knows that the Court breaks people down until they can’t do anything they’re not told to. He can’t hold it against a child that they were manipulated. They do need to learn that killing isn’t okay, though.

“Hey, buddy,” Dick says slowly, not reaching for his escrima sticks yet. They’re a kid. He’s not above fighting a kid, no, but he will if they try to kill him like they did the man on the floor. “I’m Nightwing. Want to try and explain what you’re doing here, exactly?”