Thomas’ own blood stained the metal of his uniform. When he drew his hand from his abdomen, red droplets dripped to the floor. He cursed Father Todd, cursed the Batman, cursed Dick Grayson. How dare he resist his true calling. Thomas was meant to have him. Only him.
“Talon,” the Owl snapped into the comm-line, “Get back to the roost, now.”
First his Richard had betrayed him by spreading his legs to Bruce like some… dock-side whore, and now he’d gone and gotten himself captured by the Batman’s bitch, used as leverage against the Owl. Thomas should have let them have him; useless, stupid boy.
He made it back to the roost without any help, too proud to call for aid even as his own blood trickled into his boot. He hadn’t been really wounded in a long time, and it made him want to inflict an equal amount of pain on another living thing.
“Richard!” he snapped, as soon as he was inside the building, “Don’t hide from me!”