Titans: Rise of Talon

Talon Awakening

A/N: Just a quick warning for some blood and violence. Nothing major, but just a reminder that this is a T rated story. If you have a queasy stomach, tread with caution, though I think you'll be fine.
....

Time and location unknown

The sound of chopper blades echoed overhead. Bright lights pierced through his semi-closed eyelids as everything was a blur. He could see two vague outlines of people hovering over him, but who they were, he didn't know, only that one of them was wearing black and orange. Those colors seemed important to him for some reason, but he couldn't remember why...

1° 13′ 20.14″ N, 103° 51′ 19.3″ E
02:00 SST (Singapore Standard Time)
December 1st

    Colonel Mark O'Dell had seen many things over the course of his years in the service, even more so since he left the army to work under Deathstroke as a caretaker for the Island. And as a member of the mercenary's former regiment, he was one of the few surviving men who knew him as Slade Wilson.

   But one thing the old colonel hadn't planned on was seeing his former comrade and current boss flying into the Island's airspace so soon after his last visit, especially at two in the morning. Slade only stopped here once every couple of years, usually when forced by Wintergreen to take a vacation or as a convenient pit stop after completing the circuit of inspecting his other bases. So seeing the familiar chopper coming in after only a week since their last visit was a bit off-putting, if not down right concerning.

   Mark quickly ordered his men to stand down and prep the landing pad for their leader's surprise arrival before racing there himself. Granted, as a soldier in his late sixties, he was a good deal behind the younger men. What he wouldn't give for Slade's immortal body. If they weren't friends, and if he didn't know the curse that came with such a blessing, he would have been envious.

By the time he reached the pad, the chopper had landed and Wintergreen was exiting it followed quickly by Slade, who was fully garbed in his Deathstroke uniform and was carrying a child that looked more like a corpse. Mark held up a hand to shield his eyes from the blasts of wind as the helicopter blades started to slow down.

"Orders, sir?" he yelled.

"Prepare my personal medbay! He's going to need it!"

Mark nodded and started barking orders as he issued his men back to the compound in a state of urgency. Slade's personal medbay had never been needed to such an extent, but it had everything the mercenary could possibly want or need to do with the limp boy in his arms.

   No words were exchanged as they ran into the compound and navigated through the twisting, bland corridors until they reached the medbay. Medical personnel were stationed everywhere, booting up the machinery and prepping anything and everything that could be needed. None of them knew the condition of the boy, so they had to be ready for anything. The staff didn't flinch when Slade stormed into the bay; they just turned and helped strap the stranger he had brought on to the medical table and began hooking all kinds of machinery to the boy.

   "Anything we should know?" the head doctor asked.

    "It will be like nothing you have ever seen," he replied with a sense of foreboding, "Tell me, have you ever seen a Changing Talon?"
....

    He couldn't seem to think straight. There was so much noise and movement, and that wasn't even including the seething pain he felt in every muscle of his body. Something was wrong, so very very wrong. He flexed his hands and felt his fingers scrape against a hard, metallic surface. He tried to move, but he was hindered by restraints. Where was he? What was going on?! Why couldn't he open his eyes?!