You turned your back on the Court of Owls. How could you not? When it finally clicked that you'd be living the rest of your life subservient to what you could better name as a cult to the rich elitists of Gotham, you couldn't bear it. Your father, better known, or rather feared, as the Owlman, had always wanted you to be exactly like him.

So, you fled.

Before the process to make you a Talon was complete, you ran away and remained in hiding from the Court for as long as you could. You don't think you would've survived this long if it wasn't for Bruce. Batman, by some miracle, had found you. He knew you, your name, your now severed connection to the Court. He probably even knew about Owlman, and the man's insistence on being Bruce Wayne's brother.

You suspect it's because Talon activity increased in Gotham, enough for the detective to investigate. He took you in, gave you a home, a place to stay with family. The ruthless brainwashing from the Court had rendered you a lost shell, wandering around Gotham, but now you were irreplaceably you. So much so, your guard slipped. Your father strikes when you're alone, as most Talons do.

"I'm offended," Lincoln sighed sharply. He'd come from the shadows, his gloved hand pressed over your mouth, tips of his claws digging painfully into your cheek. He's got another twisted in your hair, enough to keep you unbalanced and unable to get your feet under you. "You left me, and ran straight to my brother instead?"

His voice is low, laced with anger. He's livid, as much as you can tell he's holding himself back. "That's disappointing. The Court intended to kill you. But they were willing to let me drag you back, and I will. Kicking and screaming, if I have to."