The light is a dull glow. It doesn't sting your eyes but it does slowly stir you from the unconscious stupor he'd knocked into you with a thwack to the back of the head. You're alone in a room with a table and a set of chairs, though you're tied to yours.

You were Slade's apprentice, trained for who knows how long or why the geezer had even allowed you to begin working under him. Dick had encountered you a few times already, violent spats being the majority of them. You seemed younger than him, even if he was only gauging based on your stature and the few seconds of your voice.

He didn't normally get this aching knot of sympathy when he encountered adversaries, but to be fair he didn't usually have first-hand experience in their position. He didn't want you falling fully or dedicating yourself to the misaligned viewpoint Slade had been pushing onto you and he certainly didn't relish the idea of running into you years down the road when you'd presumably succeeded your mentor and served as the carrier of his legacy.

So after a few nights of tailing you and Slade, he'd eventually gotten lucky enough to encounter you on a solo run, presumably Slade's way of getting you to prove yourself on a job. Grayson had quickly jumped into action. Blows traded and a few landed and while he wouldn't pretend he didn't sport a few new bruises, he knew the developing bump on the back of your head would definitely be the worst take-away from the fight.

He'd stripped you of your weapons, destroyed the earpiece you'd been fitted with, and then after a bit of help from Oracle, managed to locate and remove the small track that had been embedded in the meat of your thigh.

You weren't sure what one of the Bats' associates wanted from you, but you wouldn't crack during torture which the room seemed to insinuate as the following interaction. Which only served to confuse you when he reentered the room with an ice pack and a sandwich which he set on the table as he spoke. "Figured you'd be hungry after being out that long."