Dick Grayson one shots

Powerless P2

Tears pricked in Damian's eyes as he turned to leave, sick to his stomach.

A crisp white paper amid the chaos of the apartment caught Damian's attention as he was leaving.

A quick, but remarkably accurate sketch filled part of the page, a form eerily similar to Damian's tucked into the neighboring building's shadows... the exact position he'd watched his brother from a mere handful of moments before...

Damian's blood ran cold.

—

Alfred offered Damian a cup of warm tea yet again, frown deepening when the younger refused, his gaze trained unwaveringly on the cave's floor.

The roar of the Batmobile's engine, and the accompanying squealing of its tires announced Bruce's return to the cave, Tim and Jason following close behind on their motorcycles.

Alfred left Damian's side to greet them, urging Bruce toward his son's side.

Damian lifted haunted eyes to meet Bruce's when the man rested one large hand on his shoulder. "He's alive," he whispered, green eyes conveying everything he didn't dare put into words.

Bruce stood as still as a statue for a moment. "Is he..." he started, begging Damian to give him more than two simple words and a chilling look.

Damian's eyes welled with tears and he shook his head, almost wishing he could go back to thinking but not quite believing that his brother was dead... that, he believed, would be better than what he'd seen today. "I... I don't think he's coming back."

Bruce's brow furrowed. "What?" He asked softly.

Damian took a steadying breath. "He's working for the court of owls," he breathed, hating the words falling from his lips.

Bruce stiffened. "How do you know?" He asked.

"I saw him kill for them... like a robot almost... perfect posture, each move done with precision... and his... his golden eyes..." Damian mumbled, his nausea from earlier returning in full force.

Bruce was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice dangerously low. "What have they done to my son?"

—

"Eliminate the intruders." A single order, spoken almost carelessly.

The all consuming need to comply with the court's wishes filled Dick's mind, his body acting almost of its own accord as he followed the rest of the talons through dimly lit hallways.

—

"Watch the ones on the ground," Bruce called, sending another talon flying into the nearest wall. "They get up a lot faster than they should."

One talon faltered for a moment... That voice... there was something about it that tugged on the frayed threads of a memory...

Dick stumbled, pain pulsing in his skull. He could still feel the burning need to fulfill his previous orders. He was supposed to kill these vigilantes... but something buried within him pushed against the urge to fulfill his command.

The fighting continued on around him, fellow talons locked in combat with the intruders. His gaze snapped back and forth. Whose side was he supposed to be on?

Nobody payed much attention to him as he stood there, his breath coming in snatches. To them he was simply another killing machine.

"Nightwing! Behind you!" Bruce shouted over the fray.

Something in Dick seemed to snap when Bruce called out. There was too much... too much at once...

Dick whimpered, clamping his hands over his ears and stumbling into the wall. Too much... too much... too much...