Court of Owls

Dollmaker Barton ran unsteadily through the sewers, clutching his hands together and screaming in agony. The glasses on his face followed the fluorescent trail left on the ground ahead.

"I'll never forgive them! I'll kill him! I'll kill them!"

Dollmaker Barton's voice trembled with pain. Blood dripped from his hands, and his left index finger had been severed, hanging on by only a strip of flesh.

But whenever he thought of Masterpiece No. 29, Defective No. 31, and Scrap No. 11 in the warehouse, Dollmaker Barton felt a piercing pain in his heart.

He lowered his head and hurried forward, only to suddenly crash into something. Two powerful beams of light shone into his eyes, making him scream.

"...Where do you think you're running?"

Two burly men wearing brown leather jumpsuits and owl masks stood before him, tactical flashlights trained on Dollmaker Barton as they asked coldly.

"No, I was attacked while going to get medicine. I wasn't trying to run! My research is already complete. I've given everything to the Court of Owls!"

Dollmaker Barton spoke in terror, then respectfully called out the Court of Owls' slogan.

The Court of Owls—the shadow lurking in Gotham's darkness—was a special organization formed by members of countless prominent families. From the moment Gotham City was founded, they had controlled everything in Gotham.

Even the Wayne Family, Gotham City's founders and protectors, had suffered the Court of Owls' judgment in every generation.

The two gunshots in Crime Alley and the shattering of a pearl necklace had been the gift and warning they gave the Wayne Family.

Six legs went in, two legs came out. Poor Bruce Wayne!

"You'd better not be lying to us. Otherwise..."

A Talon of the Court of Owls—or rather, a Reserve Talon—held a long, feather-shaped dagger and lightly patted Dollmaker Barton on the cheek.

Even that light tap left a long, thin wound on his cheek, and beads of blood slowly seeped out.

"Enough, Drank. Let him go."

The other Reserve Talon shone his flashlight on Dollmaker Barton's mangled, blood-soaked hands and asked curiously:

"What did you run into?"

"What was that?!"

The Reserve Talon called Drank cried out in surprise, his flashlight immediately sweeping toward it.

A swift black shadow flashed through the beam. The next second, Dollmaker Barton screamed.

The flashlight illuminated him. A rat the size of a palm was viciously biting his face, and the pain sent Dollmaker Barton tumbling to the ground and rolling around.

Rustling sounds rose all around them as several rats pounced, clearly targeting Dollmaker Barton and biting into him.

"Ahhh! Help me! Help me!!!"

Dollmaker Barton let out a miserable scream.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Several sharp daggers instantly pierced the rats' bodies. One rat was even cut in half, yet its remaining head still clamped tightly onto Dollmaker Barton.

"Something's wrong! Herd, take him and go!"

Talon Drank clenched his fists, four sharp daggers protruding between his fingers like claws. He warily watched the direction Dollmaker Barton had come from. His instincts told him this was only the beginning.

"Go!"

Talon Herd did not hesitate. He immediately grabbed Dollmaker Barton and ran in the other direction. In the training camp, the four words "carry out orders" had already been branded into their souls.

With a dull thud, a spark suddenly burst from the darkness.

Talon Drank's eyes widened. The instincts he had honed through countless life-or-death trials in the training camp made him dodge in a hurry.

He fell into the filthy water with a splash.

"You have the right to remain silent, but everything you do can and will be used as testimony against you! Now get on your knees! Hands on your heads, against the wall!!!"

Miao Mu's voice echoed through the dark sewer alongside the sound of a shotgun being racked.

With a hiss, Ratcatcher Otis's lantern lit up, casting a dim yellow glow through the sewer.

Standing in the channel with sewage rising above his thighs, Talon Drank immediately hurled the daggers in his hands. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Clang, clang, clang. The feather-shaped daggers, thin as scalpels, struck heavily against the wall.

Under the flickering flame of the lantern, Talon Drank could not aim accurately and could only throw them by instinct.

Miao Mu, who had nearly been stabbed, raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger at the Talon in the water. Ever since he had heard the words "Court of Owls" on his way over—

Miao Mu had not intended to let any of these people leave alive. Offending the Court of Owls in Gotham truly meant being cursed.

The muffled boom of the shotgun echoed through the sewer. Behind him, Jerry held up his revolver and pulled the trigger, firing in rapid succession.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang...

Talon Drank had not expected Miao Mu and the others to open fire immediately, giving him almost no chance to fight back. He could only dive awkwardly into the sewage, hoping it would stop the bullets.

But Reserve Talons who had not undergone modification did not possess the ability to resurrect. Using flesh and blood to withstand bullets...

The result was a streak of red spreading across the water's surface.

"Don't give him a chance! Finish him!"

Miao Mu racked the shotgun and fired at the water again, then ran forward. There was still another Talon with Dollmaker Barton.

Judging from their conversation, the Dollmaker was also serving the Court of Owls. He absolutely could not be allowed to leave alive!

Splash! A black shadow suddenly leaped out of the water, gripping a dagger as it lunged at Miao Mu.

"Get away!!!"

Otis, behind Miao Mu, saw this and hurriedly threw the lantern. Talon Drank, who had leaped from the water, was struck by it, and the dagger in his hand veered off course.

Miao Mu swung his arm with all his strength. The blades from the Shark-Tooth Armguard on his right arm sprang out and blocked the attack, and he immediately pulled the shotgun's trigger.

The gun boomed, muzzle flash erupting. Talon Drank's right shoulder was blasted to pieces, and his arm flew away.

"Eat him!!!"

Otis shouted viciously, his eyes bloodshot. His frenzied fury spread outward, and dozens of rats fearlessly rushed forward, biting viciously into Talon Drank's body.

After reloading his revolver, Jerry pulled the trigger at Talon Drank, who was still trying to struggle, emptying the cylinder.

Miao Mu did not hesitate in the slightest. The instant he finished firing, he turned and chased forward. Otis and Jerry would take care of everything.

And that was indeed the case. Less than a minute after Miao Mu left, the packed swarm of rats surged over like a tide and gnawed the Talon's corpse down to bare white bones.

Jerry picked up the lantern and kicked the skull, still bearing scraps of flesh, into the water.

The burly white man no longer wore his usual carefree grin. His face held only a grave, icy expression.

"No one can speak of this. Understand, Otis Flanigan? Otherwise, we're all dead."

Jerry addressed Otis by his full name, making Ratcatcher Otis understand the gravity of the matter.

As orphan drifters from the Lower East Side, they knew the nursery rhyme passed down through Gotham's generations well enough, and they understood what it meant.

"I never betray my friends, even if I die!"

Otis spoke firmly, meeting Jerry's gaze without flinching.

"Let's go!"

Jerry handed him the lantern, gripped his revolver, and ran after Miao Mu. His anxious state also brought back the nursery rhyme passed down through the generations.

Beware the Court of Owls, always watching when you leave.

They watch Gotham City from the shadows, hidden between low walls and attic eaves.

They live in your house, they dwell beside your bed.

Never speak their name, or Talons will come for your head.