Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny phased through the wall, half-stumbling even with his ghost form leaving a trail of mist rather having proper legs. Now that he had made it outside, Danny had to have a hand to the wall for support, still holding his invisibility up and frantically looking around for any signs of guards or motion. He was shaking in a way that told him he’d be soaked in sweat in his human form. Whether from fear or adrenaline, he didn’t know. Danny took a deep breath he didn’t really need, trying to think. Okay, hard part done. He’d managed to escape from his cell (a stinking cell) several floors underground. Looking up, Danny teared up at the sight of the stars in the sky. The moon was only a thin crescent, which made the stars seem that much brighter. A relieved sob broke out of him, but he quickly reigned in those feelings. Ok ok, you’re out, time to reassess.

Danny allowed his legs to re-materialize, slumping against the wall. It was quiet—so no one had noticed him escape yet. He didn’t have that long though, so he needed to move quickly. He couldn’t fight them in his condition, so that left running—but he was dangerously low on ectoplasm. He didn’t even know how long he’d be trapped down there for. His healing rate had slowed considerably, and honestly he wasn’t sure his system was entirely clean of whatever they’d been pumping into him.

“Try replacing the atmosphere with sulfur hexafluoride.” Danny had stared at his mother in horror from the floor on the other side of the ecto-proof glass. She was talking to some GIW scientist, not even looking at him. Said scientist was already nodding and moving to adjust some controls on a computer Danny couldn’t see. That could be deadly to a human, if breathed too long. “Ectoplasm, as the name implies, acts like a plasma rather than a true liquid, meaning some of its properties are more similar to gases. A heavier atmosphere will probably affect its physiology, maybe decrease its reaction time. If we increase the pressure in the room, that might even infuse the ambient gases into its system. If that doesn’t work, we can try volatilizing some anti-ecto lubricant to see if it has any sedative effects.”

It had, in fact, had a sedative effect. Danny had felt drowsy and sluggish whenever they put him in the cell. The weird atmosphere made it harder for him to think straight, or even float. When he was removed, they had just injected something straight into him so they could drag him from room to room without issue. Just getting out of the cell and into normal atmosphere had helped, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take to filter out. He really needed to get some fresh ectoplasm soon. He tried not to think what would happen to his human half if he was infused with ghost poison.

Lately though, they hadn’t wanted him just sedated—they wanted him in pain. They had been increasing the severity of their “experiments,” which usually left Danny sobbing in pain. Danny’s ghostly hazmat suit had “healed” over, but Danny could still feel the injuries. He wasn’t actively bleeding, which was good—always best not to leave a trail of glowing green blood. Speaking of—Danny looked down at the razor blade he had stolen, relaxing his grip on the blade to allow his gloved hand to re-form and heal. Clenching the anti-ecto coated metal to cut into his fist had been enough of a grounding sensory to focus through the haze, eventually leading to said escape attempt. Danny was mostly surprised it had worked. It hadn’t even been that difficult, waiting for a guard to bring him a measly gulp of ectoplasm (because of course, they couldn’t have their prime subject fading out on them), and had been able to overshadow the man who had only been expecting Danny to be non-responsive as he entered the cell. Danny hated taking control of someone forcibly, but well, they hadn’t left him many options. After that, it was as simple as leaving the door locked, walking the man to a closet and locking him inside unconscious, and then phasing invisibly up through the stairwells. Danny had even been holding his invisibility in the cell for the past few weeks(?) and feigning fear in case anyone walking by checked. At a glance, they would just think he’s invisible again, they’d have to actually scan the room to realize he was gone. Easy peasy. Except his head was spinning and Danny thought he might vomit. Vomit would also be a no-no, at the moment. He’d like to keep his remaining ectoplasm inside of him, thank you. Danny went through the motions of a deep inhale, trying to settle his nerves. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota,” exhale, “mu epsilon 42 63 28,” inhale, “1 colon 65 dash 9,” and exhale, Danny finished in a whisper.

Speaking of… Danny leaned down to phase the scalpel blade a few feet underground. Giving them hints on how he escaped was probably a bad idea. Leaning over, however, caused Danny to gasp as unexpected pain flooded through his sides and chest, causing him to fall over rather than just crouch down. Damn, fuck, those sedatives had actually been doing something after all. They had wanted to find his ghost core, which they suspected had to be in his upper body based on the higher density there, but… luckily, even his famous ecto-biologist parents didn’t know how ghostly cores actually worked. Didn’t stop them from trying, though.

Danny pushed himself off the ground, holding his head between his legs. He closed his eyes tightly and pulled at his hair, trying to shake the image of his mom and dad standing over him with dissection tools and large, painfully emotionless goggles, out of his mind. “Maddie dear, maybe we need to induce a stronger survival instinct to make the core appear?” His dad had suggested blithely. His mom had nodded. “Good idea, sweetie, it’s possible they have a stress-related response to it’s formation.” That’s when they had stopped injecting him with their sedatives, and the pain became much, much worse. Danny remembered thinking it was kind of dumb for them to think stress would make the most vulnerable part of him appear. Maybe if they gave him some hot chocolate and a day without being experimented on, they would get better results, Danny had thought bitterly.

Ancients, my brain isn’t working right. I feel light-headed. Danny didn’t have bones in his ghost form, but the feeling of foreign tools and hands and probes in his chest had been—Danny started gagging before clamping a hand over his mouth and tried to calm himself down. Absolutely no vomiting, c’mon, get it together.

Danny tried to breathe deeply, but it felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Or passing out maybe? Ghosts don’t even breathe why the fuck am I hyper—oh, I’m probably panicking. “Ok ok, I’m okay, gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” Danny tried taking a deeper breath, rocking back and forth a bit. “Yeah ok I can do this.”

Jazz had taught him how to register when he was having a panic attack, but Danny had never needed to as a ghost. All of the panicking was usually just as Danny Fenton—Danny Phantom could handle himself. Or so I thought. Danny pushed himself more firmly against the wall, still holding his head. Tears sprung to life again, but at least ghost tears didn’t glow green. That’s fine. This is fine. Crying is a chemical release, Danny, it’s okay to let yourself cry sometimes, Jazz had told him with a smile. But ghosts didn’t have chemicals to balance. Or did they? Danny shook his head again, trying to clear it. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” Danny unclenched his fists, breathing shakily. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9. Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9. Gamma—” a loud noise made Danny jump, despite being both invisible and intangible, but he managed to not yell out, at least. Had they heard him whispering? Stupid, Danny, should have stayed quiet. Danny looked around but couldn’t see anything which might have made a noise. Just a few scattered buildings and a chain fence beyond them. Danny got up and walked to the nearest corner, peering around. An electric gate was slowly opening while an armored, white truck was waiting to be let in. Ok, maybe it was time to leave.

Yeah ok, body hurt, chest hurt, thanks mom, thanks dad, that’s ok. He was probably still high. He needed away without being seen. They’d be able to track him later, but if he was running, it was always better to have a head-start. Where the fuck does he go from here? Home? Like hell.  

Yeah, Amity was not an option. Danny hated to leave without grabbing his things—mostly the emergency phone and cash that he had set up for something like this happening, but he had never expected it to be quite this dire. The phone would have to be left. He could call Tucker, Sam, and Jazz from a payphone or a burner phone or something later—yeah, that would be hard to track, right?

Danny wondered if switching back to human form would throw off their ecto-signature readings. It was the best way they had to track him—and damn ectoplasm for having such long-lasting signatures, stupid radiation-ish motherfuckers—yeah ok, Danny was definitely high. But human form meant human injuries, and human legs—it’d be too slow, and Danny wasn’t sure if his body could take the change right now. How long has it even been? A few weeks, or longer? I can’t tell. He thought about Clockwork, and about convenient it would be if the Master of Time ever used his all-powerful interdimensional mind to actually help him every once in a while. Even just a “run that way, Danny, only in 34% of possible timelines do they guess that direction!” Danny scoffed. Useless old ghost.

C’mon Danny, you’re high and need to focus, simple tasks now. You’re human voice probably would be super deep right now—Nope, focusing. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” he repeated again. The mantra helped. It gave him something to focus on, something safe and good. He hadn’t dared utter it in the facility for fear of them listening, it was a relief to hear them out loud again.

Danny didn’t know where he was or where to go, but he didn’t exactly have time to think of a plan. Keeping his powers up, he decided to just pick a direction, flying over and past the double fenced ugly white buildings, stupid corny GIW agents and their pristine lab coats and guns and scalpels, and just kept going, flying aimlessly in a direction he imagined Clocky might have pointed him in.

As Danny flew, feeling haggard and sore and scared… Yeah, he might not be able to avoid Amity after all. He absolutely needed the secure phone Tucker had made them, specifically for emergencies like this. He needed to get out of dodge and hide somewhere but he was going to need help. Maybe even… No. He couldn’t lead the GIW there.

The possibility of never returning to Amity sent a pang of regret through Danny, but it couldn’t be avoided. With the GIW constantly hunting him, likely with more ferocity now that he had escaped once, with Valerie not knowing Phantom was on her side, and then his parents… Would he be able to hide from them?

Danny started crying again, feeling the tears streak past his eyes in the wind before, almost drying as quickly as they fell. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.”  Danny gripped his stomach with both arms as he flew. He felt like his insides were being dragged and twisted as he flew. Fuckin ow.

Getting in and out of Amity shouldn’t be too difficult if he was fast and kept invisible the whole time. It’d be easier to disappear if there weren’t any civilian witnesses who could claim to have seen Phantom recently. Had his parents even noticed Danny Fenton missing? Had anyone in town? He probably shouldn’t be surprised, but it hurt to realize how unwanted he really was… Plus, he’d really like to say bye to Sam and Tuck. Jazz was leaving for college soon, he could visit her soon after she moved, but for now… Danny Phantom needed to disappear.

Chapter Text

Danny stayed invisible long after the building was out of sight. Eventually though, he let himself slip back into the visible spectrum, when he was sure the dull glow of his ghost form wouldn’t be lighting a beacon for the GIW to follow. He needed to conserve energy. After flying long enough for the panic to subside and to get his emotions under control, he started to wonder where the hell he actually was. He hadn’t left in the direction the road led away from for fear of being spotted, but now he was completely lost. There were some sparse trees and scattered shrubland, but nothing identifiable. Danny would have veered off someplace if he had an inkling that it would actually lead him somewhere different. Plus, right now, he really just wanted to get as far away from that wretched facility as possible.

It was kind of hard to believe they had transported him so far away. He wondered if he was still in Illinois. Had his parents really abandoned their other work for that long? They couldn’t have been going home every day. Did they just move in with the GIW or something? He knew his parents were obsessed with their research, but it wasn't like they didn't have other responsibilities.

Danny decided not to worry about it for now. Right now he needed information, civilization, and hopefully some coffee. His entire body hurt with the effort of maintaining a fast fly speed for this long, but he didn't care. He decided to just focus on how amazing it felt to be outside with the wind in his face and the stars to admire. After being cooped up in that foul, stale lab for so long, the smell of the trees and the wild was exhilarating.

Flying for long periods was relaxing in the way that driving on the interstate late at night felt therapeutic, not that he had actually had the chance to travel much. Danny wasn’t very good at driving, but he and Jazz had taken a trip together when she went to tour some universities, and he had went with Sam and Tuck to an out of town concert a few years back. It had been nice to just go out as himself once in a while. Flying was better though, not having to worry about any drunk or tired or asshole drivers to watch out for. And of course, you know. Flying. By far, the best deal he got out of being Phantom.

Danny must have flown for a few hours at least, relishing the freedom of it, but feeling more and more tired by the second. He decided to fly nearer to the ground in case he needed cover, but also in case he got too tired… Crashing from 100 feet in the air would be bad. A 20 ft drop was more reasonable, right?

He really was in the middle of nowhere. Or had he just picked a super awful direction to go, with nothing resembling civilization for miles? He mentally berated his imaginary Clocky. Seriously, for a ghost with nothing but time on his hands, you’d think he’d be more willing to help out every once in a while.

Danny tilted his head towards a faint noom noom sounded in the distance. That was promising. He veered towards the sound, flying low and going invisible. Eventually he saw a highway, dark except for a handful of cars that would speed by at scattered intervals. He looked in the direction the cars were coming from—it was a fairly small for a highway, with only 2 lanes in each direction, but Danny couldn’t see any signs that might give him some hints about the location.

Danny flew along the side of the highway now, invisible and thinking hard. On one hand, he was exhausted, and getting a ride sounded nice. On the other hand, he didn't have anything on him, not even an ID. It'd look suspicious as hell, and people remembered shady people. But he was really, really tired. Passing out from exhaustion and sleeping on the side of the road would also be exceptionally risky. Anyone could find him and report him. A couple more cars passed by him, probably going much higher than the speed limit given the time of night.

Maybe blending in would be better for now? He could try to pass as some stranded dude. Why not. I swear to the Ancients, if someone tries to kidnap me for this, I’ll blow their tires out.

Danny drifted lower to the ground to land within sight of the highway. Feeling a bit insecure about the whole plan, Danny walked over to a thick bush to get some concealment and changed back into his human form. The flash of bright, white rings which temporarily enveloped him didn’t seem to draw any extra attention. The road wasn’t that busy, after all.

Danny had anticipated the change in pain levels, given how resilient his body was in ghost form. Still, seconds after the rings passed over him, Danny fell to the ground with a strangled yell, arms cradled to his chest. Danny curled in on himself, pressing the side of his face into the ground as he tried to adjust to the change in sensations. Fuckin ow. Ancients, had been in his ghost form for so long... Shit, this hurts. Danny stayed curled up, groaning, trying to let the worst of the shock wear off.

After a few minutes of near-breathless pain throbbing through his abdomen and chest, Danny risked a look. He wasn't noticeably bleeding through his shirt, at least. Thank the fucking Ancients for small miracles. Danny didn't want his DNA to be found anywhere right now, no matter how slim the chances of it actually being found were. Pulling his shirt up, there were gashes scabbed across his chest and stomach, criss-crossing in a myriad of directions without any real pattern. The scabs looked fresh, like they hadn't really had a chance to heal. They had just kept cutting him open and open and open—Danny shuddered and let his head fall back, roiling at the memories. It was still unnerving that injuries to his ghost half never showed any permanent scarring, but they still transferred to his human half.

He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes again. "Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon,” breathe-breathe-breathe “42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9," he cried softly, trying to keep his panic down. He was breathing heavily for several minutes.

Eventually he pushed himself up onto his elbows, checking he was still hidden from the road behind the bush. It was a good bush, very conveniently placed.

The streaks of red ran mostly across his upper chest, but many ran down towards his stomach as well or up his shoulders. Danny tried to feel if there were any too close to his throat that might be noticeable. He noted with a distinct disappointment they were definitely going to scar. They were much deeper than the thin, light scars from his top surgery, and some ran over the Lichtenberg scars that ran across his ribcage. This is fine. There probably isn’t even that much internal damage. Should heal fine, right? Danny quickly lowered the shirt. So much for hot bod summers, as Sam called it. Danny had loved the feeling of being shirtless after getting the surgery, but now he doubted he'd ever be able to go shirtless in public again, not unless the scars faded considerably.

Danny sat back, letting his arm fall over his eyes and just lying in the dirt for a minute. Fuckin. Ow.

“Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu…,” deep breath. “…epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9…” The code he had long since memorized came to his mind easily. Somehow, just remembering he always had that information with him helped calm his nerves. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” He recited with more confidence. “Yeah alright. I’ve dealt with worse.” Danny took a couple quick, pep-up breaths before pushing himself off the ground, wiping his hands and arms free of dirt best he could. He already looked pretty bad, no need to make things worse. At the thought of his surely rough-looking appearance, Danny combed his fingers through his hair, feeling the old dirt and grime and ignoring it for now. He took the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face best he could, before looking around to get his bearings once more.

“Yeah. Ok. I got this. I’m just a guy who’s car broke down, and I need a ride home. Nothing sketchy here. Nope, not a wanted halfa-escapee slash vigilante extraordinaire. Just a tired, tired man.”

Danny dropped his hands into his dirty jean pockets and started walking closer to the road. He started following the direction that the cars on his side were heading, which was definitely still in the opposite direction of the GIW. That’s all that mattered, right? Existential crisis, meet back burner.

It was much, much slower on foot. A couple cars honked at him, probably wondering why some random dude in non-reflective clothing was walking by a highway in the middle of the night. Which, touché, was a valid concern. But damn, he was tired. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but Danny couldn’t sleep, not until he was much, much further away. His feet hurt, and Ancients, he was starving. Ectoplasm was not a suitable nutrient replacement for his human half. If this didn’t work soon, Danny was going to go back to flying. He just looked at the ground as he went, periodically checking if there was any sign of a stop ahead, but otherwise just focusing on putting one foot forward. Then another. And another. Danny kept his head down, letting his bangs fall over his eyes in case any of the cars passing him checked their rear-views. No need to be memorable. Nope, just a tired, stranded man.

Having been focusing so much on looking unobtrusive, he only registered someone was trying to get his attention when he heard a zoom of a car passing by, and then a distant honk. Danny looked up to see a red car switch lanes and then pull over onto the shoulder, switching the hazards on. The car must have seen him a little too late and didn’t have time to slow all the way down.

Danny clenched his hands into fists to keep himself steady. The red car was now maybe 20 feet ahead of him, obviously waiting for him to catch up. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” Danny muttered to himself as a quick respite, before hitching a tired smile onto his face and walking up behind the car to peer around the passenger side door.

The window rolled down, revealing a woman with tanned skin and long, dark hair. She gave Danny a wild look of appraisal ad he came into view. “Damn, Naomi, it is a kid!” she commented to the driver before turning her attention back to Danny. “You alright there? What are you doing out here by yourself?”

Naomi, the driver, leaned forward to get a better look at Danny. She had a mostly shaved head except for an impressively tall red mohawk.

“Uh,” Danny started eloquently. It was hard to speak normally, his time in isolation aside, these two were staring at him like some sort of animal. “Sorry, I um, am lost? My car broke down a few miles back, and I don’t have a phone so… Do you know where the closest rest stop is?” Danny tried to make himself seem honest, but to the Ancients, he must have really looked like shit. It was probably better to ask for information rather than a ride. Especially for two girls at night. Danny’s clothing was excessively baggy—he could be anything, hiding weapons even.

“Jesus, kid, not for miles.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” Danny let out a slow breath, trying to decide what to say. “Sorry, I’m pretty tired.”

“You look it.” Naomi retorted, although her voice didn’t seem completely judgmental. Danny was too tired to try to figure out what it was.

The first girl gave him another look-over, before turning to Naomi with an obvious question, although she didn’t say anything. Naomi looked back at Danny, then back to her friend. “Sure. Can’t hurt. Kid’s too skinny to be much of a threat.”

The tan girl turned back to Danny with a smile that was just a little too innocent, for Danny’s taste. This better not be a kidnapping, I swear to fucking—“We have a baseball bat and a tazer, and we will use them.”

Danny blinked. It hadn’t been what he was expecting.

“Sorry?”

“She said,” Naomi leaned forward on the steering wheel for emphasis, “if you fuck with us, we’ll taze your ass, and then beat your ass, and then leave your ass crying on the side of the road. Got it?" 

Danny might have taken a second too long to reply to that kind of threat. Offer? Threat slash offer? 

“Uhhh, yeah, got it, that’s fair.” Maybe stranded dude on the side of the highway looked too creepy. “I promise I’m just trying to get home though.”

The two girls nodded, and Danny heard the sound of their doors unlocking. “Hop in,” said the tan girl in the passenger seat said. “I’m Kat, by the way. This is Naomi.”

Danny nodded, genuinely grateful to them both. “Thanks. Uh—” he only hesitated for a second, this time. “Dave.”

“Nice to meet you, Dave. Where you headed?”

“I’d like to get to Amity Park, but if you could drop me off at the next rest stop, that’s also fine.”

“Sure,” Kat replied, pulling up her phone. She started Googling ‘Amity Park’ while Naomi navigated them back onto the road, slowly picking up speed.

Danny was much, much less concerned than the average person about getting into a stranger’s car. He could always just, phase out, if things really got dicey. It would cause some questions, but nothing they could easily report. Danny knew he wasn’t in any real danger.

“Damn kid, pretty far. About 20 miles out, you woulda been walkin’ for hours."

Danny shrugged, before remembering neither of them were looking at him. “Yeah, real bad luck.” Extremely, horribly bad luck in fact. “That’s why I was trying to get to a stop. Call a friend or something, you know?” He didn’t dare mention parents—he didn’t need either trying to contact someone that could be looking for him.

Kat turned to look at him, and Danny caught the worried look on her face. Although she seemed to be more worried for him, than of him. “Want to call them now?”

Danny tried not too look too excited at the offer. He cleared his throat, hoping he didn’t look as desperate as he felt. “I mean, if you’re okay with that..? Is it alright if I text them?”

“Sure, Naomi and I are passing within about 10 miles of the town, but it’s too far out of the way to drive through. If they can meet you there though, it’s probably not too far out.”

Danny nodded, taking the phone. “Thank you,” he smiled, before re-focusing on the phone in his hands. Maybe he was getting some luck after all. Danny checked the time; around 4 in the morning. He cringed, wondering if they would even be awake right now. Then he checked the date and…

Danny almost dropped the phone, checking it one more time. His stomach dropped as a sudden dread fell over him. It was November. It had been 6 months.

Danny’s hands started shaking.

Had he really lost so much time with the GIW? It had been…well excruciating, certainly, every day—but, that amount of time… What were his parents even doing there for that long? Had they left Jazz, and presumably himself, for that long? Danny tried to focus, quickly pulled up the messages and politely ignoring Kat’s other conversations as he started a new chat. He typed in the two numbers he knew by memory.

          Guys don’t freak out. Its phanny pack. Dont say anything sensitive on here, im borrowing someones phone

Danny put the phone on his lap.  He really regretted not having Jazz’s number memorized, but hers had to be replaced so often with all the explosions and ecto-guns in the house, he could never keep it straight. Danny looked out the window, trying to relax a little, but he could feel his heart rate going up. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9…” he whispered to himself, trying to focus on the trees whizzing past him as a distraction, or the reflective bumps in the road that helped keep drivers awake if they drifted.

“What was that?” Naomi asked, glancing at him briefly through her mirror.

Danny rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Uh, nothing, sorry. I just didn’t realize how late it was, you know?”

Naomi nodded, but seemed tense. Danny ignored the weird silence that fell between the two girls and checked the phone again, just in time to hear a light ‘ping’ go off, and immediately opening the new message.

OMFG BRO WE WERE SO WORRIED WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

PHAN DID YOU DIE? LIKE REALLY DIE?

EVERYONE IN TOWN THINKS YOU RAN AWAY WTF HAPPENE. ZONE?

Both numbers were erratically spamming now.

          Not zone…

Danny paused mid-typing, trying to think of what he could say to let them know, without saying anything too risky.

          Not zone. Fam came by, you know how they are. Im omw back now. Meet at MM?

YES MM HOW LONG

BRO WE REALLY THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE FOR

          Not sure. Grabbed a ride. Dont have phone. Have J meet me, if you can.

WILL DO. BE SAFE OR ILL KILL YOU

          Yep. Dont text back, this isnt my phone. See you soon

Danny chuckled a bit, smiling a real smile for the first time in… well, six months, apparently. That caused it to disappear quickly. Seriously, what the fuck was up with that? It didn’t feel like it had been that long but… Well, Danny was pretty thin right now. He had seen most of his ribcage earlier by the road, when he checked his injuries. But…even with the torture and the daily… well, he thought was daily visits… did they keep him under for longer? Or had he lost his sense of time while down there? Maybe they moved facilities or something. Danny wasn’t sure if he felt grateful or not, for not remembering the whole time. Or maybe he did, and they didn’t come every day. Danny tried to think back to the hours he was left alone in the cell, ignored. They only brought him ectoplasm after a particularly rough session.

Danny felt nauseous.

“Sounds like your friend is up?” Kat ventured.

Danny forced a smile, suddenly remembering he wasn’t alone. “Yeah, up gaming, thankfully. He’s going to come meet me.” That was a lie of course, but a believable one. Teenagers stayed up playing games all the time.

Kat nodded, smiling a bit. “Good. Make sure you get some water, too. I have a couple bucks I can give you for the vending machine at the stop, but that’s all I got.”

“I appreciate it.” Danny quickly deleted the messages, then went into the trash folder on her phone and deleted them there, too. That was a trick Tuck had taught him. He hoped she hadn’t seen him do that, or wasn’t upset about him taking the extra seconds. He finished up, closing out and handing the phone back. “Thank you guys. Saved me a tired night of walking.”

“Sure. Hope you can get your car fixed, soon.”

Hope I can get my life fixed soon. “Yeah.” Danny leaned back against the door, resting his head on the cool window. Damn is it November? He hadn’t realized how cold it had been outside. Must’ve been his ice core and all. Maybe that’s why they looked so worried.

Everything ached, and his mind was racing now. But now he had a plan. Manson Mansion. It was a large enough estate that it was closer to the edge of town, and her family never cared what times Sam was in and out of the house or who she had over. They let her do her own thing, but still supported and respected her. It was nice of them. Danny ignored the twist in his gut as he thought of his own parents.

Danny fidgeted with the hem of his dirty white and red shirt as he watched the lights pass by, thinking of his friends and what they might have been feeling the past few months. He also realized with a jolt that with summer over, Jazz must have started college. Which university offer had she ended up accepting? Oh shit, I asked them to let Jazz know. Was she at Chicago? Or further away? He felt really out of place—just so, disconnected, not knowing what’s been going on in the world. Danny wrapped a hand around his stomach, wincing as the fabric rubbed at the sensitive scabs.

This could be worse. He found a ride, he talked to his friends, he could rest, he could breathe… Tears welled up, and he tried hard to blink them away. A dumb teenager getting stranded in the middle of the night wouldn’t be crying like this. He turned to face the window more, hoping his face was hidden.

This was too much. First, getting captured by the fucking Ghost Investigation Ward. Assholes, Danny thought vehemently. That had been hell. When they first caught him, they kept him contained with anti-ecto cuffs that set off electricity when he pulled too hard. Moving him to the facility had been hell. Danny fought like he’d never fought before. He kicked, he headbutted, he bit, he’d tried kicking the door to jump out of the van. They had just grabbed his shoulders and slammed him back to the floor. They tied a white rag around his mouth after he nearly bit off someone’s finger. He didn’t care how undignified it looked though, anything to get away from them. But the cuffs kept his powers shut off, and Danny couldn’t overpower six men on top of being sporadically electrocuted. They’d beat him every time he made a move, punching and hitting and eventually just pulling out their anti-ecto guns and shooting him until he stayed still.

Danny had been curled up on the floor, bleeding glowing green ectoplasm all over the floor of their van, but none of them did anything about it. Just sat in their seats, waiting to see if he would act up again. Danny remembered straining against the metal floor, teeth clenched and face sticky with fresh ectoplasm while his arms were cuffed painfully behind him. The last shot had been at his leg, and Danny could actually see through the hole it left, before it had slowly started reforming, ectoplasm from the inside of his thigh stretching to meet the goop on the opposite side. The hazmat suit slowly closed up, but Danny could still feel where the ectoplasm in his leg was missing now, thinned out, and it hurt. He couldn’t move the leg anymore. He had just laid shaking on the ground, eyes dull with pain, until the van had stopped and he’d been hauled to his feet by the agent that shot his leg and pushed him out of the van. He crumpled when they let go.

The agent had started talking with someone when they arrived, but Danny couldn’t understand any of the words. His ears were ringing and his ectoplasm felt thin, leaving him helpless and groaning on the ground.

After the conversation died, the new figure had come over to stand over Danny, who rolled just slightly to glare, unfocused, at the figure. He wore a spotless white suit with a matching white tie, looking entirely ordinary. His dark glasses obscured any noticeable features, and he had an earpiece with a wire hanging to one side.

“Heard you were a bit of trouble on the way here. While we wait for the experts to show up, how about you take a quick little nap for us?”

Danny hadn’t understood what that meant, until he saw a needle cap being removed. A new wave of panic had set in, eyes going wide, not wanting to find out what that would do to him. But he barely had time to flinch away before a second pair of hands grabbed him roughly, and Danny whined as a needle was inserted into his neck. He thought he heard laughing coming from somewhere. Danny tried to summon his ecto-blasts, intent on burning the man’s hands away, but the power wasn’t there and he was zapped for tugging at the restraints again, and Danny couldn’t struggle for much longer before a sudden heaviness settled over him.

The hands dropped him, and Danny’s head fell heavily to the cement. He was barely registering the impact over the wave of vertigo that came over him.

That was the last time he’d been outside since phasing his way out of the facility, just a few hours prior.

Danny shuddered, blinking back to the present. He didn’t know why he lingered on those thoughts for so long. He didn’t want to remember what had happened. He kept staring out the window to avoid looking at either of the girls who were probably watching his every move.

The GIW had been bad enough. But then, his parents showed up too. Because of course they had. And Danny knew that they, unlike the asshole hero-wannabees, were good people. They had to be good people. Danny pleaded and begged with them, offering a truce, information, help. He told them they could work together to protect Amity, or he could go back to the Zone. He promised to stay there forever, and never come back out if that’s what they wanted. They had just snarled at him, hissing out insults and obscenities. It had shook Danny to his core to see them lack such basic empathy. He felt cold, almost numb. No matter how often he had begged for them to stop, for them to talk, to listen, they never did. Somehow, it never occurred to them that an evil ghost could have anything left of their humanity.

No matter how badly the GIW hurt or humiliated him… it was nothing compared to the gleeful hatred in his parents’ voices, gloating over their chance to study the Phantom Menace and savoring the pain they put him under.

Danny had never lost a fight this badly. Maybe that’s why he was crying. He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t pathetic to cry, it was normal, or so Jazz had tried to convince him. But now, Danny doesn’t know if he’d ever be able to beat them in a fight. They had taken so much. He knew they had every bit of data they needed now to find him again, results on how his ghost body reacted to different chemicals, which weapons were most effective (“You were right honey, look how well the plasma ions carry a current!” Danny could barely make out, screaming as they amped up the volts another level), and enough collected ectoplasm to hire ghost hunters for years. More than likely though, the GIW would simply hunt him down themselves. They called ghosts beings of shallowness, creatures controlled by obsessions in an attempt to imitate life. But they were the real monsters. No being with a soul did that to another soul. Why couldn’t they see how fucked up it was? Why couldn’t his parents?

It didn’t matter. Between the GIW government money and his parents’ inventions… he was never going to be able to live a free life again. Danny tried to let that thought sink in, to make it easier to explain when he got back. There was just nothing left for him in this life.

◇◆◇

When Naomi pulled up to the rest stop, some 10 miles away from the kid in her back seat claimed to be heading, Dave perked up. Naomi actually thinks he had dozed off for a bit, which was probably good. The poor guy looked exhausted. Naomi kept her voice carefully level as she put the vehicle into park, now able to half-turn as Dave started to open the door.

“You sure your friend is coming to pick you up here?”

“Yep!” He said fake enthusiasm. “He’s already on his way.”

She nodded, and Kat turned from where she had been digging in her purse. “I got 6 dollars—sorry it’s not much. Do you want us to wait with you? It’s pretty dark out still, and cold.”

Dave smiled again. Naomi didn’t think he looked dishonest, but she had a bad feeling about the whole thing. He seemed too nervous.

“I’ll be fine! I’m sure it’s warmer inside. Thank you for the cash. I wish I could pay you back.”

Kat waved the thought away. “Don’t stress it. It’s fine.”

“Okay.” He took it a bit hesitantly, and Naomi got a good look at his skinny arm as he reached forward. There was some nasty bruising, too. The first thing she’d noticed when they picked him up was what looked like cuts on his neck, just peaking through over the hem of his shirt. There was also some kind of rash on one side of his neck. She wasn’t sure in the dim lighting.

“Thank you guys again. I—I really appreciate it.” She smiled, because he really seemed desperate to sound sincere.

“Sure, kid. Glad we didn’t hafta taze ya,” she joked with a wink. He did laugh at that.

“Same. Trust me, same.” He finished opening the door. “Drive safe! And again, thanks for the ride!”

Kat and her watched him walk away, pocketing the cash, and began making his way up the stairs towards the rest center. There were some lights on inside, and Naomi watched him carefully to see if he would divert. Kat was watching too.

“Hey, did you see a car we might have passed on our way up that road?”

Kat frowned. “No, I don’t think so. You think he was lying?”

Naomi was already pulling out her phone. “I think something was wrong. Did you see how sick he looked?”

“Yeah.” She looked worried. Naomi reached to hold her wife’s hand comfortingly. “Maybe we should go sit with him?” Kat asked hesitantly.

“No, I don’t think it’d be a good idea. Seems skittish.”

She dialed the number with her other hand, holding the phone to her ear as she watched Dave open the door and enter the building. She saw him beeline to the vending machines, but then couldn’t see much further as the doors closed and the reflective light obscured her line of sight.

“911, do you need police, fire, or medical?”

“Police, please.” Kat looked at her, waiting to see what Naomi would say.

“One moment.”

Just a few seconds later, a different voice answered. “911 police line, what is the nature of your emergency?”

Naomi squeezed her wife’s hand, trying to think. “Hi, yes, I’m calling about a kid we just picked up from the side of US-45. He was walking along the road all alone and looked in pretty bad shape.”

There were some rustling of papers. “Location?”

“Amity Rest Spot, US-45, near exit 12.”

“Thank you. Can you describe them?”

“Yeah, scrawny teenager, Caucasian, a boy with black hair, blue eyes I think. Looked sick, and he had some bruises on his arms and neck.”

There was some typing. “Okay, we have police en route now. Are you still with him?”

“No, he went inside. Said a friend was coming to pick him up.”

A second passed. “We have 2 patrols redirecting to your location. They can be there in 10 minutes. Are you able to wait on site until they arrive?”

“Yes we’ll wait.” She looked at Kat. Kat looked more and more worried, glancing frequently to see if Dave was visible through the glass doors or not.

“Thank you for calling. Do you have any other information you can give me?”

“Not much, said his name was Dave and that his car had broken down. Picked him up around 4, but my wife and I didn’t see any cars we passed for the past several miles. It’s was otherwise a quiet, night, you know?”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand, I’ll be sure to note it.” 

Chapter Text

“Thank fuck,” Danny let out in a breath once inside. He took a quick glance, noticing with relief there didn't seem to be anyone else in the vicinity. He marched straight for the vending machine, starting to pull the bills from his pocket out of habit, but then pausing. He was on the run. Cash wasn't easy to come by. Instead, he turned to get a quick look at the map. He could see his current location marked at Amity Rest Spot and knew the landscape well enough to easily find Amity Park. Alright, he knew where to go. He continued to the men's restroom, slipping inside quietly.

Good, empty here too. Danny just needed to rinse up a bit and then be gone. He quickly went to the sink, only to come up short once he saw his reflection in the dirty mirror.

He looked...awful, if he was putting it nicely. Grotesque might be closer, though.

He wasn’t just thin—he looked emaciated. His dark hair actually looked matted in some places. Danny went to touch it instinctively, feeling cold at the realization he didn't recognize his own reflection. His face was pale, nearly as white as his ghost form, and sunken in so that his eyes looked dark in the shadows and his cheek bones stuck out. The scabs on his chest did peak through over his shirt. Damn, that's probably why those girls looked so weary of him. Danny lifted his shirt to get a better look at the scabs, since it had been dark before. He winced, realizing it was actually worse—the scabs were the darkest and most abundant, but there were also multiple bruises and various types of burns in different stages of healing. Danny turned his neck, noticing the bruising there looked like the ones running up his arms—in rows of small, segmented spots, but what caught his eye was the dense cluster of small, red spots on one side of his neck, right below his ear. He stared at them for a second in confusion before it hit him.

He barely made it to the toilet.

The retching was loud, and Danny’s chest burned with the pain of heaving and feeling his skin pull uncomfortably where the scabs were still tender, but he couldn’t force it to stop for several minutes. A nasty mix bile and red spit sat pooled in the toilet. Oh shit, blood? From where? Fuckfuckfuckfuck, “Gamma alpha upsilon tau—” Danny was forced to stop as a second round of retching started. He eventually leaned back, steadying himself against the wall of the stall. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon,” he coughed once, “42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” Repeating the code helped. He focused on the cadence of the words in his head, biting his lip hard and squeezing his eyes shut. The phantom feeling (haha) of a needle being jammed violently into his neck came back to him. He felt tears start to pool again before falling down his sunken cheeks, and Danny gripped his neck to try and smother the feeling away. He hadn't expected such a small injury to transfer to his human half. His ghost form must have been running real low on ectoplasm. You knew that already, dummy.

Danny stumbled up, feeling a panic set in at the thought of someone coming to look for him. He had no idea how long it would take for the GIW to realize he was gone, but he thought about the weird look those girls had passed and pushed himself upright, flushing the toilet. He flushed it a second time just to be sure. Then he went to the sink and flung his hand in front of the motion sensor to get water running and started rinsing his mouth, then cupping his hands so he could splash it through his hair. It wouldn't replace a shower, but the frigid water felt good. It felt grounding. Ok ok ok it's fine, it'll probably fade, it's fine itsnfineitsfine—

He took a look around, as if some mystery person might have been standing silently to observe the whole ordeal, then back to his reflection. Alright me, time to go bye bye.

He shook his hands like that would let off his excess anxiety before turning away and slipping into invisibility, the comfortable coolness wrapping around him. The feeling of security it brought was more of a comfort than any amount of solitude was, though, at the moment. He phased through the wall back to the vending machine. Before, he was gonna feel a bit guilty for stealing when he had money. Now? Somehow it didn't matter as much. He reached in, grabbing a handful of crackers and snacks and random, and then a large water bottle. Danny phased out the back door, making sure no one was there, before he quickly tore open the packaging and started eating as fast as he could. He might’ve been invisible, but wrappers were so loud. It hurt to swallow, like his throat was too dry. On about the third bag of chips, he switched to crackers. But then he started feeling a bit sick and slowed down. Danny finished the pack anyways.

He opened the water and practically chugged it. He went back in and snagged a second one, which he also drained. He almost turned away from the pilfered machine before pausing, staring at an iced coffee sitting temptingly on the shelf. Fuck it. He grabbed that too.

Danny went back outside, taking the empty water bottles with traces of his spit on them and prepped to phase them into the ground before pausing, thinking of Sam. And Undergrowth. He went back in and shoved them into the drywall past the tile of the bathroom instead. Let some future archeologist figure that one out. Danny crumpled the trash, tossing it. He kept the bottled coffee with him, feeling like his stomach wasn't quite ready for that yet. Finally, he phased out the back wall one last time and switched to his ghost form. The pain immediately lessened, and Danny put a hand to his chest, feeling the smooth suit and lack of ridged scabs. It helped calm him. He phased the coffee into his chest for the time being and closed his eyes, focusing on the breeze in the air and the gentle sound of leaves rustling.

Alright. I'm ok. I got this.

The sound of several car doors closing made him jump up to float about a foot of the ground, going instinctively intangible. He clasped his hands over his mouth just in case, looking wildly around for white trucks. He paused when he didn’t see any—they had been pretty distant sounding.

He flew up over the building, looking towards the parking lot. Two police cars were haphazardly pulled into the lot, and he saw the two women, Kat and Naomi, talking to an officer while another was making their way up the stairs. The siren lights on the car were on, flashing red and blue, but they were silent. 

That was intentional.

He smiled wryly towards the trio in the parking lot, noting how worried the two women looked, at least based on their body language at this distance. Kat had her hands wrapped around herself in a hug while Naomi had an arm around her shoulders.

 He appreciated the thought, he really did. They obviously meant well. He felt bad making them so worried. He definitely looked like shit, so he could see where they were coming from. But… sorry guys, not today.

Danny turned towards the direction of where the sun’s rays were starting to light the sky in the distance, even though the sun itself wasn't visible yet. The stars faded as the clouds and early fog lit up, sprinkling pale blue and periwinkle swirls over the lower horizon. Danny stopped to admire the baby sunrise. He touched his chest again. He tried to revel in the knowledge that he had not only made it to see the stars again, but another sunrise, as well. Heh, take that, shitheads. He hoped the GIW hadn’t realized his absence yet, but if they had, he hoped they were furious. They hadn't gotten him yet.

◇◆◇

Flying to Amity was the easiest 10 miles he had ever flown, regardless of the pain that still lingered throughout his body. It felt like walking out of school on the last day before summer break, but infinitely better. The distance didn't seem nearly so scary, knowing he had been able to contact his friends, too. The food and water must have helped, even if he wasn't sure whether it had fully settled or not. He made sure his pace wasn't leisurely though, speeding ahead despite the painful tug on his dwindling power levels. When Phantom was found to be missing , Amity was certainly going to be the first place they'd look. Most ghosts tended to keep to a pinpoint territory. Hopefully, they would stick around longer to wait for him to make an appearance. It would give him more time to get ahead of them.

He had been going for half an hour before the topography became distinctively familiar. An almost giddy feeling of triumph came over him, and he grinned. He didn't dare drop the invisibility though. He flew low, swerving around the tiny, peeling tourism sign that indicated the entrance to the small town. Everyone knew tourism in Amity Park was non-existent, despite the low crime rates and infamous title of “most haunted city in the US”. There were too many paranormal scares, like people going missing for 24 hours only to be found with no memory of the previous day, or the town’s disproportional rates of property damage for a small, midwestern urban area for it to be considered a great place for visitors. Sam's place was further out of the way, so he kept veering left until he passed the an old brick building that he knew was his sign to turn right.

When he was finally within sight of Manson Mansion, Danny’s grin turned wobbly, feeling tears invade his sight. Thank the fucking Ancients. He dove down, pausing to look around first. He didn’t see any cars he didn’t recognize, only the black hearse that Sam’s Grandma had bought her as an early graduation present (Sam’s reaction had been hilarious, him and Tucker recorded it). Her parent’s must be travelling, then. Even better.

He flew down to where her window was, peering inside. Better to double check Grandma herself wasn’t saying hello, after all. Tucker was sitting on Sam’s bed, typing in a blur on his laptop, while Sam paced up and down her room. Danny could hear the loud metal blaring through her headphones even through the window, but he wasn’t sure if that was due to his improved hearing or if Sam really had it that loud. He phased inside, feeling a wash of emotions come over him. He reached to close the thick, blackout curtains by Sam’s window, which caused them both to jump in alarm, before he allowed himself to resume visibility. Their surprise quickly switched to delight and they both screamed, Sam flung herself at Danny and he caught her in a tight hug. Tucker was a second slower, practically throwing his laptop aside before rushing over to hug the two of them together. Danny couldn’t understand what they were saying, they were both speaking over each other, and Danny realized he was ugly crying. He pressed his face into Sam’s shoulder, and grasped at Tucker’s hand from where he was standing behind Danny. He slowly sunk to the ground, feeling the exhaustion from everything hit all at once—the feeling of being chased, of not knowing what was going to happen, the beatings, the cutting remarks followed by literal cuts into him, the panicked thrill of escaping, the experiments-the scalpels and tools, electric coils , beakers of ectoplasm and-and-and- Danny was sobbing. Hard. So hard, he was glad he didn’t need to breathe as a ghost. He wouldn’t have been able to.

Danny cried and cried and cried, not knowing how long he sat there with his two best friends hugging him like they would never let go again. Neither rushed him to get up, to explain, to stop. Sam had her head resting on top of his, carding her fingers through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck softly. Tucker had both arms around Danny’s stomach with his head resting between Danny’s shoulders. He finally realized Tucker was breathing loudly, in, hold, out—deliberately, giving him a template to follow, to ease the panic. Danny was gasping haggardly but tried to follow the rhythm of it anyways. Sam was humming to him, and he could feel the vibrations through his chest and shoulders. He tried to focus on the feelings, the good feelings, the comfort and repetition. It was soft. It was amazing.

Danny lost himself in it. It felt too good, almost unbelievably good. He hadn’t realized how much he had been convinced he would never feel something so gentle, so loving again. Periodic bouts of harder crying came, but he realized he was starting to settle when he could hold a coherent thought. He shifted a little bit to let them know he was good to move, and they both released him, but Sam kept an hand on his forearm. Tucker scooted so Danny could see them both. Their legs were all pressing on each other with the close proximity. It made Danny feel like he never wanted to leave.

Ancients, if only that were possible.

“Y’okay now, man?” Tucker ventured. Sam smiled, letting him know he didn’t need to rush to answer. Danny realized they both had been crying too, fresh tears drying and eyes puffy. Ancients, he had missed them. He did notice that Sam’s epic eyeliner that day hadn’t budged though—very badass.

“Yeah,” he croaked, and then cleared his throat. He looked at his two best friends, knowing he could trust them with the world. I don’t want to fucking leave. But that wasn’t an option.

“So. Not zone?” Sam prompted, an eyebrow raised.

Danny shook his head, looking down. He didn’t even know where to start. “Um… the uh…” Why couldn’t he say it?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to talk about it yet.” Sam quickly amended. Ancients, they were the best. “Are you—are you okay? I mean, are you hurt?”

Danny couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. “Yeah. I think I need some help, though.”

“You got it,” Tucker jumped up, running to Sam’s private bathroom where they kept emergency med-kit supplies. Patching Danny up after ghost fights was routine for all three of them, at this point.

“Stitches?” He shouted from the bathroom. Danny paused to think. He wasn’t sure. He slowly shook his head, though. All of the scabs had been closed.

“No!” Sam vocalized back for him.

“Kay—” He rushed back out, carrying a box with several packages of gauze, tubes of various ointments, band-aids, and bottles of sanitizing spray and clean water.

Danny looked at it all, already dreading the transformation. Sam and Tucker started opening the box, shifting to sit either side of Danny for when he was ready. “Uh, could I have, like, a pillow or something?” Wow his voice really sounded terrible.

“Yeah, one sec—” Sam reached up to the bed behind her, pulling the first one within reach and handing it to Danny. It was purple with a cartoon skull floating above a cauldron in neon green. Very fitting, Danny thought. Danny shifted to sit cross-legged, knowing he needed to be relatively comfortable. He gripped the pillow tightly, not looking at either of them. Their movements stilled as they each finished their prep, waiting for Danny’s cue.

Danny clenched the pillow so his hands wouldn’t shake. He looked bad. Like, real bad. He hardly recognized himself… he didn’t want to scare them worse than they already were. “It’s um… please, don’t…”

“Hey man, it’s okay—” “You’re fine Danny, we won’t judge, you know that.” Danny could see Tucker nodding out of the corner of his eye. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. He felt tears start to build up again, looking down as they dripped onto the green skull.

He had to get this over with. He didn’t have that much time.

Danny took a few quick breathes, before closing his eyes and transforming back to his human half.

They had both been expecting it, Danny knew that. But he still heard them both gasp, and could feel them still as they stared. Danny groaned as the renewed pain swept over him, and he shoved his face into the pillow, trying to hide from their reactions and the world itself, while he was at it. “I’m sorry—” he choked out, crying as the pillow muffled his voice, and they both rushed to reassure him, talking over each other quietly. They each took one of his hands from where it was wrapped around the pillow, his face still pressed into it.

“I—I know, it’s so bad,” Danny hiccupped.

“Hey, it’s okay, phanny,” Tuck joked.

Sam chuckled, but Danny could tell it was a bit forced. “You know we’re here for you. It’ll look badass in a few years, just you wait.” She gently rested a hand on Danny’s back. “Where’s it the worst?”

“M’chest.”

“Okay. Let us know when you’re ready.”

He nodded. It took a few minutes before he was able pick up his head. He set the pillow behind him, knowing it would be in the way. Ancients it hurt to even move.

His arms were shaking a bit as he tried to shift to lift the shirt over his head. Tucker helped when he saw Danny struggling, but Danny felt him freeze up when he saw them. Sam had a hand pressed over her mouth, new tears starting to form already. Danny bit his lip, closing his eyes in pain and just scooting back a bit to lean against the wall, trying to prop himself up more comfortably. Ow…

There was a second where they both hesitated, but then without a word, they both got to work. There wasn’t much to be said. Danny heard them opening gauze and spraying disinfectant onto disposable wipes. They warned him when they were both to touch him, so the sting didn’t make him flinch as hard. Danny could only grunt when prompted, focusing on keeping his breathing level. He knew he wasn’t doing very good at it. Sam eventually paused, he could only feel Tucker’s larger hands wiping away blood and dirt for a moment, before Danny felt Sam touch his shoulder. He opened his eyes, he hadn’t realized they were closed. She held up a pair of headphones enquiringly, her fancy Bluetooth ones. Danny blinked, then nodded with a small, appreciative smile. She put them on for him, then clicked on her phone to pull up one of their shared playlists. Danny’s vision blurred with tears again which slid quietly down his face, wanting to just focus on the songs they had all picked out together. They had been adding to it for years; there were hundreds of songs on it now. Sam resumed helping Tucker with his injuries. Danny stared at the ceiling to avoid looking at the wounds.

They mostly focused on cleaning off the dirt and trying to gently clean the scabs and removing dead skin before taping gauze over the cuts to keep them protected. Once the cuts were dressed, he heard them talking about whether the burns looked thermal or chemical over the opening of ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’.

“Chemical,” Danny supplied. Heh wait, My Chemical Romance.

Sam hummed, and a couple seconds later he felt her dab at the burns with a cool cloth. He hissed, remembering when they had learned burn cream wasn’t really meant for fresh burns, and how salty they had all been at the misconception.

When he felt them shift attention to his arms, he sat up a bit. He felt dead-tired (heh—wow he was tired), his eyes were bleary like he hadn’t slept in weeks. All he did in his cell, before he got the razor blade to keep him awake and conscious, was sleep. Between trying to rest from various injuries and the room’s sedated atmosphere, it had been hard to stay awake.

But now, the feeling of being cared for and treated like an actual person, made him feel exhausted in a completely different way. Like he could finally take a break from having to fight the world. To fight for his humanity, to not have to survive but just exist.

Danny kept crying, but it didn’t feel so desperate. He must have made a face because Sam winced. “Did that hurt?” She tilted her head to re-examine the cut she had just cleaned.

He shook his head, wishing he could wipe them away. “I really just missed you guys, is all,” he explained.

Sam let out a tight laugh. “Aw Danny, we missed you too. Ancients—we, we thought you were gone, like… actually gone, this time.” She swallowed hard.

Tucker grimaced as he finished washing the old dirt and sweat from Danny’s left arm. There weren’t nearly as many cuts or abrasions on his arms, but it was sore and bruised badly. “We looked everywhere. We went to the Zone so many times, thinking, like, I mean where else would you have gone? We thought if anyone had ghost-napped you, it’d be like Walker or something again. Or Skulker, maybe. But no one had seen you either. We tried to get to see Clockwork, but he was as evasive as usual.”

Danny felt a sharp, bitter tang at the thought of Clockwork. He would definitely have known what was happening. And he didn’t do a thing about it.

Danny scoffed, trying to stop thinking about his so-called mentor.

“Yeah, honestly, I wish Walker had put me in prison again. No, I…” Danny paused, trying to blink away the memories that were flooding back. Obviously they’d be able to guess what happened from his injuries, but it was hard to admit it out loud.

“The GIW caught me.”

It was a simple sentence. His voice was dry, almost emotionless. He let his eyes go distant again, now staring at the black and purple throw-blanket on Sam’s bed. How fuzzy and soft it looked.

Sam and Tucker both gasped.

“What?!” Sam yelled, anger rising in her voice.

“They did this?” Tucker demanded.

“I thought you said your family had come by? Like, Vlad or something..?” Sam’s voice was uncertain, like she didn’t want to think too hard about what Danny was implying.

“Er, well…” Danny shrugged. He looked down at his lap.

“Is Jazz coming?” He wondered if they knew his parents had been out of town or not.

Tucker checked his phone. “Yeah, she’s landing in an hour or so, and then maybe an hour for an Uber.”

“Hm.” Danny bounced his leg restlessly. He stopped when it hurt his stomach. “Okay. Well, no, it wasn’t Vlad. I coulda handled that fruitloop…”

Sam had finished cleaning his right arm. Both clean, he pulled them in to hold them against his bare chest. Sam reached to grab him a blanket. The fuzzy one, he noted happily. She threw it over his head and he wiggled it to sit around his shoulders so just his head was poking through.

“The uh, GIW, they uh…” he swallowed again. Sam and Tucker were both waiting, but giving him very suspicious looks, like they thought they knew where he was going with this but couldn’t believe it.

“Called in experts? Y’know. The famous scientist kind.”

Sam covered her mouth again. Tucker’s eyes were very wide.

“Your parents?” Sam started trembling slightly.

He just nodded, dropping his face into the soft blanket.

“Fucking—SHIT.” Sam started clenching and unclenching her fists.

“Gamma alpha upsilon tau,” inhale, ”iota mu epsilon,” exhale, slowly, “42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” He mumbled on purpose, speaking into the blanket directly. Sam and Tucker recognized the length and cadence, knowing it was a habit Danny had picked up after his unwilling adventure to the future. But he had never told them exactly what happened, just that he had been forced to destroy Dan. Clockwork had emphasized that containment would no longer be sufficient. And afterwards, he had a verbal tick he repeated when he was anxious. Danny had never told them the code or what it meant (safety, can trust them), not wanting to abuse Bruce’s trust in him. Danny knew the code was important, and secret. He was pretty sure it was just so that the Bats would recognize him as an ally they met in the future, but he’s never visited Gotham in this time. And even with his best friends… he was allowed to have that for himself, right?

Danny had a sudden image of Bruce’s throat being stabbed through from the back, his voice catching in a gurgle and blood spewing up from his mouth and nose, while a ghostly blue hand—no claw—ripped through his trachea.

Danny’s eyes shot open, trying to shut out the memory, and started staring at the little fuzz’s on the blanket, making up shapes in his head. Sam and Tucker were still looking at him, waiting, looking worried and fearful and angry as hell.

“Yeah, they uh, knocked me out. And when I woke up, heh, well, mom and dad were there…” Danny was trying to keep his breathing steady. He really was. His heartbeat was beating erratically at this point and his fingertips felt numb. He flexed them, trying to focus. “I uh, I thought it would make it easier, you know? Tried talking to them and stuff.” He just shook his head, still feeling some degree of disbelief himself. “They… they were the worst. Way worse than I’ve ever seen them. Guys, like, you know how they hate ghosts?” His voice was shaking now, and his throat hurt like it might close up. “Well, they decided to just, I don’t know, take it all out on Phantom, I guess. I’ve never seen them like that…” He buried his face again, trying to stop his crying as it turned into small sobs.

“Oh, Danny…” Sam scooched closer to sit next to him instead of across from him, wrapping her hands around his shoulders. He leaned into the hug, lifting his face to wipe the tears again.

“I—I need to get out of here. For real this time. I need to leave.”

Tucker looked surprised. “Are you…Are you sure man? Can’t we like, just hide you out here at Sam’s or something? I mean, the whole town thinks you ran away. The police did a bit of an investigation—they came to talk to Sam and me, but we just told them your parents pushed you a lot on school stuff. Wasn’t like we could say much else. And Lancer told them you got bullied a lot, so they just marked it as a runaway and that was it. If you came back to stay with a friend, that would be believable.”

Danny only briefly considered it, but knew he wouldn’t go that route.

“Did you know they had left the house? Like really, I’m just—I’m so confused, guys. They got me in June. What did everyone think happened to my parents? They were there the whole time.”

Sam’s breathing was also becoming heavier, and Danny could feel as she shook. Tucker seemed to be holding back tears. He knew they would be angry, but—

“Jazz moved to college, and you ‘ran away.’ They think your parents just got depressed and moved on. Out of town, you know? But like, Danny, they never packed.” She sat up to look at him. “It would have been obvious if they were selling the house or something, you know? It didn’t make any sense. We tried telling the police that, that we thought you were kidnapped or lost or something, but they wouldn’t look into it. Said your history of ‘disappearing’,” she paused to make finger quotes in the air, “gave them reason to think you had left of your own free will. They put out posters online to some of the nearby cities, but they dropped the case after that.”

Wow. Just 6 months, and the entire town had decided that he didn’t matter after all. Who cared about some wacky Fenton kid and his crazy parents? Who cared that he was missing and probably hurting?

Maybe leaving Amity Park was going to be a good call, after all. He wanted to protect people, but… not with these stakes.

Danny sighed. “Figures.” His heart felt like lead at the realization. No one cared about him.

Tucker bumped his shoulder lightly. “Hey phanny, you know we’d never give up on you. We’ve been tracking down leads for months. It was just… everything was a dead end.” Tucker sighed, removing his red cap to run a hand over his locks, before putting it back on. “We were starting to lose hope, honestly. Like, phan. We were fucking worried.”

“Jazz was helping, too, you know,” Sam smiled at him. She could obviously tell the news was disturbing him. “She’s been trying to use her ‘network’ at Chicago to raise some awareness.” Ah, so that’s where she decided to go for college. That was nice. She deserved it. “She even started a whole online campaign,” Sam continued, “She’s slightly more loaded now by the way, she had a fundraiser for reuniting families after disasters and for families that never got closure for missing people, and she’s had a lot of donations for your search in particular.”

Danny chuckled, wiping his face again. His eyes burned, he was so tired.

“Yeah that sounds like Jazz.” Trust his sister to go above and beyond, like always. “Speaking of loaded, do either of you guys have some spare cash?”

Sam raised a brow.

“I’m getting out of town, and I don’t want anyone to know otherwise. As far as Amity Park knows, Danny Fenton went missing 6 months ago, and hasn’t been heard from since.”

Sam and Tucker absorbed that in silence, passing looks between each other.

Sam got up. Danny shifted since he had been partially leaning against her. He leaned on Tucker instead.

“Who do you take me for?” she asked with a grin. She went over to one of her dressers and dug around the drawer for a minute before pulling out a thick wad of cash. She wrapped it in a sock and stuffed it in a random clip purse sitting on the dresser.

“Geez, Sam, isn’t that a bit much?”

“For you? Nah,” she laughed. “Also though, I have like, a few of these hidden around here.”

“Oh?” Tucker asked with a playfully inquisitive tone.

“Not for you.” She tossed the clip purse to Danny, and he looked at it dubiously.

“Seriously though, you’re gonna need it, trust me.” She put her hands on her hips, looking down at the two of them.

“Er… how much is in here?”

Sam shrugged. “Not sure. A few thousand, I think.”

Danny gaped. What?!

“C’mon, we got things to do.” She offered her hand to him to help him up.

He looked at it for a second before taking it, heaving himself off the ground. “Like, packing? I was kind of thinking of taking a nap first, honestly. Haven’t slept in a bed in a while.”

That seemed to upset her a bit, but she ignored it. “No, well, yes you can nap, but your hair needs washed and I don’t think you can shower right now.”

“Oh.” He reached up to feel his hair again. It was gross—greasy and sticking together in clumps.

“Tuck, you think you can work on getting the phones checked up while I help Danny? Jazz should be here an hour or so, maybe less. Then we can all chat.”

Danny smiled. He had the powers, Tuck had the technical skills, but Sam had the practical skills. And the decisiveness. She knew how to get shit done. Danny respected it (how was he going to get by without it? Without them?), and quickly ignored that thought, not wanting to cry again. Seriously, he was already dehydrated. But yeah, coming to Amity first had been a good call. He doesn’t know what he would have done otherwise.

Tuck gave a thumbs up, and hopped back up to the bed to continue working on his discarded laptop, his legs hanging off the bed as he kicked them back and forth.

He followed Sam to her weirdly large bathroom, decked out with black tiles and real, unlit wax candles. There were electric lights too, but Sam liked the gloominess of a flickering candle. Danny just thought they smelled nice. She usually got lavender or something fancy.

She flicked on one of the lights to move around more easily. Danny winced at the sudden brightness while she started running the sink, turning the water on warm. Danny stood there awkwardly, not sure what she had in mind. She motioned him to sit on the little stool in front of the mirror and handed him a large fluffy towel. He wrapped it around his shoulders.

She started by first taking small amounts of shampoo and a handful of water to start working it into his hair. Danny sighed at the blissful feeling, leaning forward a bit to rest his head on the counter, using the towel as a cushion. His friends were so amazing.

Some washing and rinsing later, which had been surprisingly difficult since she insisted Danny hold his head in the sink for the final rinse, Danny was feeling fresher than he had in a long time. He cleaned his face while he was at it, trying to avoid his reflection.

“Want a trim?”

“Hm?” He asked tiredly.

“I can take some off the back if you want to keep it short. Looks like it grew out a bit.”

He hadn’t noticed. When was the next time he might be able to get a haircut. “Uh, sure?”

She grabbed a pair of sleek scissors and got to work on that too. It didn’t take it long, and the periodic feeling of her combing fingers through his hair to fluff it out was nice. Danny knew she had taught herself how to do hair, since she liked to change styles so often but didn’t like waiting to go to a stylist. Plus, the stylists here were boring, or so Sam claimed.

Once his hair was done, she left so he could get undressed and finish his sponge bath. His legs weren’t as bad as his upper body, but there was still a lot of bruising, especially around his ankles and thighs. He finished quickly so he could pull on the pajamas she had left on the sink.

Danny knew Sam kept spare clothes of his here, but she had lent him some of her oversized pants and a black t-shirt. The clothes were soft, clean, they smelled nice…

Danny stood in the bathroom for a bit, trying to fight down more tears. He kind of wished he would stop crying already, but every little kind gesture felt like a huge gift he wasn’t prepared to accept. Felt like a tsunami of emotions, of gratefulness, of love. He really, really loved his friends. Ancients, I’m going to fucking miss them.

Leaving the bathroom, he simply walked to Sam’s bed and fell face flat without a second thought. The GIW would probably be coming to Amity anytime, now. But he could only run on no sleep for so long. And he was so fucking tired.

Sam’s room was dark and he allowed the shadows to comfortably envelop him. Sam seemed to be shuffling some things in the background while Tucker worked on the bed next to him. Danny shifted to press his back against Tuck’s, feeling a bit embarrassed at the clinginess but at the same time, not really. Who knew when he would be able to see them again, after he left?

He was excited to see Jazz again. He was excited to be back, to have this little bit of peace. He tried to focus on how nice it felt instead of worrying what he would need to do when he woke up. He slowly started to decompress, feeling his muscles relaxing while listening to Sam talking to Tuck about the feasibility of getting a fake ID. Yeah, Sam was the practical one. Maybe he could head to Gotham, after this. He wouldn’t be able to be a vigilante anymore, but it would be nice to have some familiar faces nearby. Well, familiar masks, maybe. He had only seen Bruce’s face, and only for a moment. Things had been chaotic.

But then… He recalled the sickly feeling that Red Hood’s partial core gave off when they had met—how it seemed to ooze and stutter unevenly. How much it had scared Danny when he first felt it… That had been about 20 years in the future, though. Danny wasn’t sure what Red Hood’s core would look like now. Would it be better, or worse? Had there been an accident that hasn’t occurred yet? Danny had never gotten a chance to ask about any details.

On one hand, Danny probably should help him with that. On the other hand, he knew that amount of ectoplasm was definitely detectable, even disregarding Danny’s ecto-signature. So, that ruled out Gotham. He couldn’t lead the GIW there.

He couldn’t really think of anywhere else he would go, though. Maybe that was the plan. To just wander, without a home and without friends, to keep the others safe.

As long as no one else had to go through what he did… Bruce’s words floated around his head as sleep came nearer and nearer. “We don’t do this job because we want to. We do it because we have to.” Yeah, that sounded about right. Danny could live with that.

Chapter Text

“-ANNY!”

Danny shot up, looking around wildly. He was completely discombobulated for several seconds, trying to get his bearings. What’s going on? His vision was blurry and it was dark, so it was very confusing trying to remember where he was.

“Jazz, he’s sleeping—!” The protesting voice was cut off by the door slamming open and Danny only saw a fuzzy blur before a weight was suddenly on top of him, nearly tackling him off the bed. Danny was struggling to register what was happening as he tried to breathe normally while his chest exploded in needle pains. Ow…

“What?”

“DANNY!” Oh it was Jazz. He still couldn’t see what was happening.

Jazz shuffled so she was crushing him anymore but wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly. “Oh my god, oh my god, Danny, oh my god.” Jazz was crying.

Wait. Jazz was here.

“Jazz?! Ahk, wait, that hurts—”

She gasped, letting go quickly.

The lights suddenly flicked on and Danny’s vision was flooded.

Wait. Jazz was here.

Finally registering what was happening, he stared at his sister in shock before pulling her back into a hug, uncaring of how it hurt to do so. She returned it just as quickly.

“Oh, Danny, Danny, oh my god—Danny I thought - I thought you were dead!” Her cries turned into full blown sobbing as she clung to him, hands bunching into the shoulders of his shirt. Danny held her just as tightly, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions. It felt paralyzing, the only thing registering now was that his sister was here.  

“It’s ok, it’s ok, I’m okay Jazz, I’m back.” Danny felt his attempts at reassurance fell so amazingly short of anything decent, but he didn’t know what else to say. He could feel her long hair in his face.

Everything seemed to catch up with him and he slowly felt himself start to cry, too. He had known she was coming, but now she was here, his big sister. “Ancients, Jazz—” he took a shuddering breath, “I missed you.” When was the last time he felt this safe?

At that, she shifted to wrap her arms around him as he cried hard into her shoulder. It felt so much like mom’s hugs used to, and it felt weird to think about that. But this wasn’t his mom, it was Jazz, and Jazz was awesome.

Sam and Tucker had made their way back int the room, Sam with a water bottle in one hand and leaning against the doorway to give them space, watching with a tired smile. Tucker was sitting in a chair, watching the two of them with a watery expression of his own.

The two of them cried for a long time. Danny’s throat was hurting again by the time they finally let go over each other.

Danny gave his sister the best smile he could muster. Ancients, it was good to see her.

Danny took a second to get a proper look at his sister. Her hair was a bit messy, she had it up in a high ponytail, and her face was red and splotchy from crying, but otherwise she looked okay. Her skin looked a bit paler than he remembered, but he couldn’t be sure. She wore sleek black pants with a dark blue top and black blazer. She looked very professional, even moreso than usual.

She scrutinized him just as hard. Danny was suddenly very grateful that Sam had made him wash up. Having his face and hair clean probably helped a lot, even though he was sure he still looked like shit.

She reached up to hold his face in her hands. He hated how terrified she looked.

“I’m alright Jazz, it’s fine—”

“You are NOT alright, Danny! What happened to you?” She was still crying but anger was starting to seep into her voice, too.  

Danny felt more tears slip down his face, feeling a sudden drop in his stomach. He didn’t want her to know what happened, but he knew she also deserved to know.

She seemed to take his hesitance as a sort of answer on its own and reached up to kiss his forehead. “Never mind, we won’t worry about that right now. What matters is that you’re safe now.” She started wiping her own face.

He sniffled, breathing out heavily and looking towards Sam and Tucker.

“Hey phanny.” Tucker waved. It was silly and Danny laughed.

“We wanted to let you sleep more, but Jazz couldn’t wait.” Sam walked over with the water bottle she had been holding. Oh, that was for him.

“It’s okay, I can sleep later,” Danny took the bottle gratefully. His arms felt like jelly. He struggled to open it for a second but got it right before Jazz was about to try and help him. He drank carefully so he didn’t choke.

“Danny, I’m sorry, I know I should have let you sleep, but—”

“No! I’m glad you didn’t. I wanted to see you right away, I just forgot when I texted them that you had probably moved. Been a while, you know?” He hated how shaky his voice was. He wanted her to feel better.

She gave him a wobbly smile before reaching over to hug him again. He leaned into the touch as much as he could without hurting himself more. Man, I love my sister.

◇◆◇

After they had all calmed down a bit and had a chance to catch up, they all sat just looking at each other while the room felt oddly cold. Danny had done his best to fill in Jazz on what happened, but it had been hard to talk about a second time. Sam and Tucker did help when they could. Now, Danny was resting his back to the headrest with one leg up and a huge comforter swathed around him. Sam was sprawled by the foot of the bed staring up at the ceiling, and Tucker was propped on one corner with his laptop balanced precariously on one leg while the other swung off the side. Jazz was going through the backpack Sam had started packing for him, a notepad in hand.

Danny had only slept an hour or so, so he was kind of out of it. He would need to sleep again before he left, but he didn’t want to stay here for more than a day if he could help it.

Jazz looked up after finishing the list she had.

“We should probably get a few more things for this before you go.” She had responded to the stress of everything with the need to be productive. “Like, a reusable water bottle, an umbrella or a rain jacket,” she started ticking off things while counting on her fingers, “let’s see, a basic medicine kit, first-aid kit—”

“Jazz, that’s like, a lot. And I mean, do you really think I need a first-aid kid? I heal so fast—”

“Danny,” she interjected sternly, her eyes still red from crying earlier, “my baby brother is not going to go out in the world without a first-aid kit while people with guns designed to kill him are out chasing him. And that’s final!”

He put his hands up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, fine.” He sighed, but he wasn’t really upset. It was true he’d rather not have to carry that much, but it was also a comfort to have someone wanting to take care of him. A water bottle was a good idea. He could top that off almost anywhere. Especially when, you know, you can phase through walls and stuff.

She was wringing her hands. “You’re going to go over the study materials I’m sending you right?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine, Jazz—”

“Because my baby brother is NOT having a middle-school education, no matter whether you get an official diploma or not,” she huffed.

He rolled his eyes a bit but smiled. “C’mon Jazz, it’d be 10^th grade education.” He had been about to go into his junior year before all this. Jazz was more worried about it than he was. He built machines for fun and knew lab chemistry better than most college students. It wasn’t like he was incompetent.

She glared but he just smiled.

“I’ll be fine. I can always pick up some books on the way, you know? Lots of free libraries.”

“Well, still. There’s lots of free online classes and I want you taking them. Libraries have computers too, And I expect updates young man! I’m only sending you some that give certificates in case you ever need them.” He nodded, somewhat dreading the self-imposed work schedule. That wasn’t his forte.

Sam sat up from her musing.

“Headphones! Dude, you need headphones!”

Danny gasped. Good point.

“Wire ones, though, so you don’t have to charge them,” Jazz recommended, writing it down on her list.

“Tuck, you can download the playlist to the phones right?”

“Pff, yeah dude, them things got major storage on them. Like, several gigabytes worth.”

Damn.

“Okay, cool.”

“I want all the important stuff to be small, so if I lose the backpack, it’s not a big deal.” Jazz gave him a weird look. “I can store it in my ectoplasm! That way I won’t have to worry about someone stealing anything important.” She actually looked somewhat impressed by that idea.

Tucker stopped from where he had been coding something. “Man, I need some coffee.”

Sam nodded. “Bro, same.”

Danny chuckled, and quickly transformed into Phantom. Everyone blocked their eyes at the sudden flash of light.

“Danny, what the—”

“Here!” He had reached inside his chest and pulled out the iced coffee from the previous night. It was still cold actually. Maybe even colder than when he had stolen it.

Tucker took it, somewhat dubiously. “It’s not ecto-contaminated, is it?” He shook it to see if it would jump at him or not.

“Probably not. It’s sealed, dude.” Danny transformed back.

Tucker looked down at the bottle. He shrugged, opening it up to take a swig.

“Gimme—” Sam reached, but Tucker pulled it out of reach, booping her nose with his free hand.

“Not for you,” he parroted back to her.

She sulked. “This sucks, I’m ordering food.”

◇◆◇

They had all debated what they should order, especially given Danny’s condition. Jazz had wanted some Asian so he could get soup and lots of veggies, but Danny ended up talking her into pizza instead. He had agreed to get at least one veggie topping. Sam ordered a whole vegan pizza for herself, Tucker and Jazz split a pepperoni with double cheese, and Sam had ended up picking up 3 separate pizzas just for Danny, with a side of garlic knots.

Tucker had stared at her after she got off the call from making the order. “Three?!”

“What?” she shrugged, “Danny’s metabolism is ridiculous. And he hasn’t eaten in, how long?”

“Technically like, uh, I had some chips a few hours ago.”

“Doesn’t count.”

She pulled up her phone. “Okay, now coffee. Who wants what?”

Jazz gave her an odd look. “You’re doing two delivery orders? Isn’t that expensive?”

She laughed. “My parents don’t care.”

Pizza and a wonderful assortment of mostly caffeinated beverages arrived approximately the same time, to the confusion of the poor delivery drivers. Sam tipped them both generously though, so neither seemed to mind as they left. After they had all eaten, Danny half-dozed while slurping on his decaf vanilla frappuccino (he had pouted when Jazz refused to let him order coffee on almost no sleep, but she hadn’t budged). Danny was definitely starting to feel tired again. He had ended up eating 1.5 pizzas before his stomach started hurting.

He was trying to think of all the things they had left to do without letting the anxiety of it get to him.

They had the secure phones updated, check, plus lots of cash, check, emergency supplies for travelling solo, check. Ancients, this hardly felt real at all.  

Jazz nodded to Tucker, who was pouring over government websites related to formal types of IDs. “Hey Tucker, do you know how a normal person not registered as missing could go about getting a name change?”

Danny gave her a quizzical look, which she ignored.  

“Uh, yeah, looks pretty simple. Submit a form online, then one with a notary, you have to go through a process to update all of your records though, like SSN and everything. Why?”

“Well, because I’m changing my name of course.”

Danny blinked. “Uh, Jazz, this isn’t so I can come live with you in Chicago, right? Because I told you, I can’t—they can track me wherever I go. You wouldn’t be safe.”

“No, Danny, it’s not.” She took a deep breath in, eyes closed, before slowly breathing out. Danny recognized it as the same breathing technique she had taught him. “I will no longer be Jasmine Fenton. I’m disowning mom and dad.”

Danny went still, possibly going pale as well. He had tried to skim over the part where their parents had been his main abusers with the GIW, but she had latched onto it like a piranha in bloody waters.

“Wh… are you…? I mean, really?” Danny’s voice shook a little bit, and he suddenly felt that deep sense of dread. What was he afraid of? The irrational thought of mom and dad trying to hurt Jazz too came to his mind, but he blocked that thought before it could settle. That didn’t make sense, they hated ghosts, not their children (right?). His parents had never been the petty type but then again… he had thought he knew what kind of people they were before his time as their personal lab rat.

“Yes. Mom and dad haven’t even checked in on me since I moved out. And that was after we found out you were missing. I had to do all of the moving on my own.” Jazz’s confident demeanor suddenly melted away as she hugged herself, looking down. She looked small. Danny sat up a little. He wasn’t sure how to comfort her.

“They can’t understand that I don’t want to be them. I want to be my own person, I want to be a psychologist so I can help people, not some ecto-biologist ghost hunter with no greater life goals than making weapons to hurt things that look and act different than me.” Her voice was sharp and her eyes had turned steely. “It’s…it’s sick what they did to you, Danny.” She looked at him again, eyes softening.

Danny felt tears start to prick at his own eyes. Not again. Can’t I be done crying?

“Nothing they could say would change my mind on that. I don’t give a damn what their reasons were.” Jazz’s voice was hot now, boiling with anger, and Danny noticed her hands had balled into fists. He had never seen her actually angry before. Annoyed, worried, sure. But Jazz just didn’t get mad.

Danny gulped, nervous.

“And then, after you disappeared and they left me all alone, they didn’t even try to help me with the search. Sure, like, mom mentioned you a few times. But she—she didn’t even quit her research to go look for you. She didn’t demand anything from the police, from the school, nothing.” Jazz was glaring now at nothing. All three of them had gone still as they listened. “They didn’t help me at all. They weren’t there for me. And they weren’t there for you, Danny. You were missing! And—and all they wanted to do was go study some stupid ghost!”

Her voice was rising to a yell now. Danny still couldn’t find anything to say. It felt hard to breathe.

“And—and then,” she continued, voice shaking, “now I find out their precious, stupid, research was torturing an obviously sentient creature.” That particular argument with his parents had been a long-standing one where they refused to acknowledge even the possibility. It always ended in fights. “And it was you they were hurting Danny,” she cut him off as he went to protest, “I don’t care that they didn’t know it was you! I don’t care that they think ghosts are dead—they’ve dedicated their life to studying something, not for the- the knowledge of understanding it, but to find out how to destroy it! It’s, it’s disgusting! And I…” she breathed out slowly. Her next words were quiet, deathly quiet.

“I hate them.”

They all sat there in silence. Tucker’s hands were frozen above his keyboard, and Sam was staring at her with an unidentifiable mixture of emotions. Danny was… Danny wasn’t sure how he felt.

Validated? Loved? Scared? Awestruck? Concerned? Regretful? Scared?

Confused, probably. He felt confused. He didn’t know how to feel.

Jazz suddenly looked at him sharply, like she had snapped out of something. “Oh, Danny, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you—” she quickly leaned over to embrace him, hugging tightly but not hard enough to hurt. She had gotten a summary of where his injuries were the worst and was careful not to aggravate them. Danny had been trying to hold back tears, but just couldn’t.  

“They… they didn’t even look?” Danny asked with a catch in his voice. He felt raw. Like his entire self was being shattered, and shards of him were falling away, unable to be put back together.

“Oh Danny… I mean, they looked, but…” she sighed in a huff, obviously regretting saying anything about it.

“They took the police’s word that you ran away,” Tucker supplied hoarsely when Jazz started struggling.

“We all tried to tell them,” Sam added quietly. “That we knew you, and that you wouldn’t have just run away without telling anyone.”

Jazz shook her head. “I’ve never seen them so obstinate. They really thought that you decided to abandon all of us, which, A doesn’t make sense, you’ve never rejected them, and B totally unrealistic. You’re only 16, like geez, someone would have reported it, or your records would have turned up somewhere, I mean you can’t work, can’t drive, you don’t have a car.” She just shook her head again, like she was wincing at an argument long ignored. “I never understood why they refused to consider that you needed help, I mean, even runaway teens usually have something wrong at home that pushes them to run away in the first place. If they had cared, like really cared… they would have tried harder.”

She raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, obviously frustrated.

“So, yeah, no. I’m no longer a Fenton. I’m done with them and their stupid obsessions.”

Danny had long thought it ironic how his parents’ obsession was ghosts, while ghosts were themselves defined by obsessions. For people who supposedly hated ghosts with every fiber of their being, they really only proved that humans and ghosts weren’t that dissimilar.

Danny felt a bit numb, taking in all the new information. Even when he had been at the GIW… a part of him had hoped he’d be able to reconcile with his parents. Maybe not as Phantom, but as a Fenton. But it seems like their hatred for Phantom was stronger than their love for their own son. Which hurt. A lot.  And while that thought ached deep within him, bouncing hollowly around in his chest like a forgotten game of pong… Danny thought back to Batman, to Bruce, who had casually draped his cowl over Danny’s shoulders and pulled him into a side hug when Danny was panicking. Calmed him, reassured him. Promised him things would be okay.

Bruce had known that Danny wasn’t fully human, wasn’t fully alive, and even knew what he had the potential to become. Red eyes, flaming white hair, fangs grinning with malice. But Bruce had accepted him anyways. Like it had been easy. Like it was natural, that it was okay that Danny was different. The others, the Robins and the Batgirls with their new aliases, had accepted him just as easily.

Outside of the three people in this room and some of his ghostly friends, the Bats had been the first people in his life to do that. He missed them, too. It had been nice not to have to hide Phantom, but even the freedom of being able to be Phantom, to be himself, around them. That had been okay.  

Maybe not having to be a Fenton would be nice. He could just be Danny. It didn’t sound so bad when he thought about Jazz and Sam and Tucker all there for him. It wasn’t like he’d be completely alone.

Tucker and Sam had both fallen into a quiet mode of working while Danny had zoned out. Jazz kept one hand around his shoulder while writing on her yellow notepad with her other hand. Danny glanced it over, but gave up after a second, feeling too tired. He knew she would handle it.

“So,” Tucker asked, looking up, “same last name, or different ones?” He had a slight grin that Danny quickly mimicked.

Jazz however, considered it carefully. “I dunno… I mean, it’d be nice to have the same last name, sure. But I don’t know how suspicious that might look if anyone really digs into it.”

Sam shrugged. “Depends how common of a name you choose. Smith would be fine. Grendiwonkle, probably not.”

Danny snorted.

Jazz hummed. “What about Nightingale? It’s so far back, I doubt anyone would make that connection.”

“Really?” Sam demanded, “After the guy that tried to burn be alive?” Sam asked indignantly.

Danny laughed. “You were the witch-hunt. I’m the ghost-hunt. Careful, Tuck, times might not be looking good for you.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Mummy-hunt, maybe. I can’t believe my ancestor was a Pharoh. I mean, when did literal royalty become mid-western small town suburb type?”  

“So, Nightingale, then?” Sam brought the conversation back, apparently not really that offended after all.

“I mean,” Danny shrugged. “It works. And it’s just a bird, so, that shouldn’t be too noticeable right?”

“Especially if we’re not formally related to each other on record.” Jazz nodded.

Tucker resumed typing. “Jazz, you wanted to get your PhD eventually, right?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Cause,” Tucker chuckled, “Dr. Nightingale sounds way cooler than Dr. Fenton.”

◇◆◇

Danny must have fallen asleep again because he found himself waking up to a different conversation.

“Okay, the last thing we need to figure out is how we’re going to get Danny some fresh ectoplasm.”

Ah. Filtering out the ghost poison conversation.

He had explained to them the whole deal with the anti-ecto lubricant and possibly other unknown gases and how it had been how they kept him sedated for so long. They were all nervous about what it was doing to his body, but Danny wasn’t sure if poison would transfer to his human half the same way a physical injury would. Personally, he doubted it. Plus, it probably wasn’t deadly. The lubricant was mostly some heavier metal alloys with weird isotopes. Steel wasn’t dangerous to humans (unless it was cutting you open—), but his parents had forced Danny to study how the harmonic frequencies of the alloys correlated to ghostly radiation waves and how the metal proportions could be manipulated to get destructive interference. So, nothing radioactive or overtly toxic like lead or mercury. He had never thought to memorize the specific chemical compositions, though. Maybe he could just go check his house to see what was in it—Hold on.

Danny sat up straight, a sudden focus in his eyes as all traces of sleep left him immediately.

All three of them stopped what they were doing to stare at him.

“What’s wrong—” Jazz started, but Danny’s brain was already moving fast.

“Wait, the house is empty, right?”

“Uhhhhh, yeah, for now? I guess, we haven’t actually checked. The last time we snuck in to go to the Ghost Zone was like, two months ago or something.” Tucker tilted his head. “What are you getting at?”

Several ideas came to Danny all at once. His eyes darted around in thought for a moment before he looked back at Tucker.

“Do you think you could hack Vlad’s mansion security, if you tried?”

Tucker looked at him blankly. “Dude. Slow down. What are you talking about?”

Sam and Jazz were both giving him the weirdest looks.

“Okay—so, here me out. Jazz, you’re already completely moved out, right? None of your stuff is still at mom and—” he cut himself off. Not mom and dad anymore. “At the house?”

Her brow was furrowed. “No… Why?”

“Hm.” He looked down, thinking.

“Danny, I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t start explaining yourself.” Sam crossed her arms.

“Okay, okay—just—I’m thinking. Okay. I need ectoplasm, right?” Everyone nodded. “And the Ghost Zone is pretty much the only place to get that. So I need to go to the Zone, right?” More nods. Good. “Well, I’ve been thinking. I don’t want to just leave this place unattended. Portal aside, we shouldn’t really be letting so many ghosts loose around Illinois anyways. We need a way to stop them from coming through after I leave. So. What if—”

“We destroy the portal,” Jazz breathed, predicting his train of thought.

“We destroy the portal.” Danny repeated, with a nod and a slight grin. “I mean, we don’t need it anymore, right?”

“But how would you get back—oh. Vlad’s portal. Hence, security question,” Tucker finished, now following.

“Yep.”

“Huh,” Sam looked thoughtful. “What are the chances we could blow up both portals.”

Danny blinked. “Uh, zilch, probably? I’m not really in a condition to be able to fight Plasmius, you know.”

She smirked. “You wouldn’t have to. He’s in Central City for some rich people gig, same place my parents are right now.”

Oh. Well that changes things.

They all thought about it, looking back and forth between each other.

“So. The plan is as follows,” Jazz said, her voice taking on a professional tone, “Get Danny to the house. Get whatever he needs from the house. Power up the portal. We blow up the Fenton household,” Danny noticed she didn’t say parents, like he had out of habit. “Danny travels through the Zone to Vlad’s place, getting some fresh ectoplasm on the way over. Tucker hacks in, opens the portal, Danny comes back to our dimension, and we blow his place up on the way out.”

“That about summarizes it, I think.” Sam agreed.

Danny smirked. “You know what? I like the sound of that. I owe Vladdy boy a kick in the metaphorical shin for funding a lot of the GIW operations. Ruining his favorite side project sounds like a good way to piss him off.”

Jazz frowned after a second. “Wait, wouldn’t that possibly, I don’t know, make your life harder though? Then both him and the GIW are going to have a reason to go after you. And plus, as much as I hate Vlad, he’s got major connections, and money. He could just re-build it after we leave.”

Danny deflated a bit.

“Not if we delete all his systems data after we hack in,” Tucker countered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Holy shit. “Oh, man,” Danny re-inflated, “That’d be perfect. I mean, hold on, he also has so much anti-ecto stuff hoarded there, so that would actually do some good. Not just petty revenge good but like, it could make it harder for him to hunt other ghosts.”

“Or hunt you,” Sam pointed out.

Yeah, or him.

Danny made an appraising face, looking between his friends to see if any of them could think of anything else.

“Okay so new plan,” Sam reiterated this time, “Danny goes to portal at Fenton house, gets inside to get some ghost juice, we blow the house to the fucking ground.” She might have sounded bit too vindictive at that, “Danny comes out at Vlad’s and runs away, then we finish the job, which is blow his portal to smithereens and wipe his servers. Leaving both him and the GIW without a way to make more weapons or any more portals. Without some major setbacks, at least. If they can recreate it at all.”

“Well,” Danny started to point out, wincing at the point he was about to make. “Our—er, the Fentons are basically working with or for the GIW now. They could re-build it.”

“Not easily, not without their years of data and blueprints,” Jazz corrected. “They’re smart, but even they can’t have all those mechanisms memorized. It would take time, the only backups they have are in the lab.”

She started scribbling some notes on her notepad. “Yeah, I’m starting to agree with Danny. This isn’t just about our safety and security—they do a lot of bad here in Amity, and who knows where else. Putting a halt on some of their operations would be a net gain for us and the Zone.” She reached over to ruffle Danny’s hair.

“Good thinking, phanny!”

He laughed. Jazz almost never used his group chat nickname. Oh man, this was gonna be amazing.

They all joined in, giggling loudly over each other in an infectious way. The lightness of the moment felt so pure. Danny felt lighter than he had in a long time, listening to the sound of his closest family all laughing at their own, nefarious plans. Somehow he felt he would sleep easier now that they had a plan. Yeah, this felt good.

◇◆◇

Danny did in fact, sleep like the dead. Nearly 17 hours while he was at it. Supposedly, Jazz had checked his breathing more than once. The other three had been seriously busy though, while he was passed out. They gave him a summary of their progress once he was awake again.

Tucker had the fake ID thing sorted out, although it would take some time to actually arrive. They were going to mail it to a new mailbox in Chicago so Jazz could pick it up for him, since Danny didn’t have an address anymore. He had asked some questions about it, but Tucker had just waved him off with a simple “techie black market stuff, you wouldn’t understand” and Danny didn’t argue with him about it. Tucker had already taken a precursory look at Vlad’s firewalls and had determined the overly-paranoid, self-proclaimed genius had coded all of his own shit. Meaning it wasn’t that robust—at least not by multi-millionaire standards. Tucker could have handled it either way (Danny was sure Tucker was smarter than his friend usually assumed of himself), but all of the passwords were some variation of Maddie’s name, so it wasn’t even that complicated. So now he was making a fake electronic trail for Danny’s new name: James Daniel Nightingale.

“That way,” Tucker grinned, “you can still go by Danny and be okay!” Considering Danny had picked his own name when he transitioned, he appreciated the thought. He might have changed the first name though, instead of just swapping the first and middle names, but oh well.

Meanwhile, Sam had been compiling lists of cities in the US rated by level of friendliness towards homeless people, friendliness towards metas (since Danny would most commonly be mistaken as a meta and not a dead kid), and other forms of accessibility. Jazz had finished Sam’s earlier job at packing a backpack for him, having already run to the store to grab a couple things.  She had also been baking some nutrient-dense protein bars for emergencies.  

Wow.

All in all, he felt a little overwhelmed. Not only by all of the plans, but just the essence of what they were doing. Danny had escaped from his own personal hell just a day and a half ago, and now he was trying to finish destroying his old life to rebuild a new one. An unknown one. He had no idea who he was now. He wasn’t Danny Phantom, he couldn’t be anymore. And he wasn’t Danny Fenton, either. He was just Danny, or James, Nightingale, who no one knew.

Bit intimidating, honestly. But still, obviously, infinitely better than some of his other options were. And while it still felt so new and scary, he was kind of looking forward to a clean slate. No bullying, no expectations, no parents… just freedom. Sure, it was sure to bring its own struggles. Being a homeless kid on the run was probably not going to be the most lavish lifestyle, but he could work with it. He’s worked with less.

Danny shook his head. He needed to re-focus. Still had to finish destroying this life, after all. I destroyed another version of me, once. That random thought washed over him like a bucket of ice, and Danny stilled at how unnerving of a realization that was. He had killed Dan Phantom. And now he was killing Danny Fenton. How many times did he need to bury a part of himself before he was allowed to have peace?

No. No, I didn’t choose this. The GIW and Drs. Fenton killed Danny Fenton. I’m not the evil one here.

“Fuck, I need a coffee or something.”

“Danny, language!” Jazz admonished.

“Fridge,” Sam said absently before going back to her excel sheet of rankings for one specially made, quasi-missing halfa boy.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Coffee acquired (yesss iced coffee for my cold, gay heart), he tried to think what he needed to do next.

“Do you think the scabs would be fine in a shower?”

Sam and Tucker looked up. They had been the only ones to see the cuts, after all.

“Probably man, if you’re careful. What do you think, Sam?”

“I guess so. I can help you re-dress them when you’re out, Tucker needs to finish his end of things, I can do this stuff later.” Danny nodded, feeling appreciative. They really had taken a huge load off him with this whole mess. It didn’t feel nearly so world-ending than it had yesterday. “Oh,” Sam added, “take the stool in the shower with you, in case you get dizzy!”

Oh, good idea. He did that.

Removing all the tape had been uncomfortable, but the shower had been bliss. Absolutely wonderful. He put the water as hot as he could stand it. Normally he liked cold showers, but the heat made him feel like all the grime was just gone, dissolved. Felt like being reset. He did get nauseous at some point, from the coffee or the heat maybe, he wasn’t sure. Or just from, you know, the plethora of various wounds being irritated all at the same time. So he finished washing as carefully as he could before stepping out and starting to dry.

It hurt to move, but not nearly as much as it had the day prior. Sleep and steam did wonders. Once he had pants on, he poked his head out to see if Sam was available. She noticed immediately and got up so Jazz wouldn’t see his chest, which he was grateful for. He didn’t want Jazz freaking out more than she already had, she had been fretting over him constantly since arriving. While she had been told what happened, he didn’t want her to see all of it. They had been her parents, too.

Between him holding supplies and Sam having way too much experience with this, the process of wrapping and taping the wounds went quickly. He avoided looking at them too closely. Danny threw on a clean black shirt, combing a hand through his damp hair. Leaving the bathroom, he went to the backpack so he could have an idea of what supplies had been assembled. It seemed a solid spread to him. The only thing he planned on tucking into his ghostly body for extra safekeeping was the cash and his Foley-buffed phone. He only kept a single ten in the backpack itself. He would need to get the other bills exchanged for smaller ones later, but that was a future-Danny problem.

They all ate a quick lunch before prepping to engage with step one of the “yoink-Danny-to-another-dimension-and-back-again” plan. Danny thought it was a good plan. Danny had Jazz’s protein bars packed, but he still appreciated having a hot meal with his friends before leaving. Killing the last of the pizza had been fun, but once they all finished, the reality of what they were doing really set in. It was sobering.

Danny had hugged all of them much harder and longer than what was probably reasonable, but he couldn’t help it. He got done giving Sam a huge hug where he picked her up off the ground, ignoring her protests about his chest, before he would look at Tuck and need to do the same thing. Then he needed to hold Jazz again, letting her wrap her long arms around him so he could hear her heartbeat. It was unfair how tall she was, especially in heels. But then he would take one look at Sam and Tucker and have to give them another hug, too. He was crying, of course. They all were. But this time, he didn’t even want to stop. He didn’t care that he’d been crying almost non-stop since he’d reunited with them. He was going to fucking miss his best friends. His sister. His only family. Ancients, this sucks.

The edges of panic kept trying to sneak their way back into Danny’s head, but he kept viciously beating them back with a stick. Away, stupid thoughts, go away. I can’t dawdle here forever. He really, really wanted to stay. He had never thought that he would miss the idea of going back to another grueling school year just to fight ghosts and barely pass and get bullied and take tests. But the normalcy of it all was so deeply ingrained into him, he realized he felt lost without it. The idea of Sam and Tucker going back to junior year without him, without all of them together, making it through anything. It just felt wrong. But they didn’t have a choice. Danny didn’t have a choice.

He knew though, that their prolonged goodbyes were just a form of avoidance. So finally, Danny laughed wryly at the antics, finally taking a step towards the window and looking back at the three of them, standing there crying as hard as he was. Jazz was wringing her hands nervously.  

“Oh wait! One more thing!” Sam bolted to her closet.

“Sam, we gotta let him go—” Tucker went to say but was cut off by Sam’s “aha!” and her reappearance at the door. She held a black bundle in her arms, and tossed it at Danny, who caught it with one hand.

“For the road. And cause it was supposed to be yours anyways.”

Danny held up the hoodie, now recognizing the familiar item. It was supposed to have been a birthday gift for him two years ago, the first one after he died became a half-ghost. It was plain black, except for the inside of the hood being a bright, obnoxious neon green (and one of Sam’s favorite colors). He laughed giddily at the hoodie, quickly inverting it. It was a special-made hoodie that had pockets both on the outside and the inside, making it fully reversable (and fun to hide things in).  It was also excessively soft, because Danny was sensitive to shirt textures. The neon green side was covered in snippets of writing in messy black sharpie that didn’t flow smoothly across fabric. Immediately after getting the gift, the three of them had all taken turns writing messages to each other in half-code, mostly because it made Danny look like a glow-in-the-dark ghost blob (being about three sizes too big for his small frame) and they hadn’t been able to take it seriously. In addition to bits of writing and notes, there were doodles, dates with memorable mess-ups, and any number of their shenanigans they had decided to record there. They had eventually stopped when they ran out of room, so the entire neon part of the hoodie was covered in random drabbles and drawings, including the back (where only Sam and Tucker could reach while he was wearing it, so they made fun of him), the hood itself, and the sleeves. It looked like a mosaic of mid-rate graffiti. Or like an army of toddlers had an afternoon with it.

Danny stood staring at a little doodle of himself in ghost form getting eaten by hotdogs. The drawing wasn’t very good, Danny only knew what it was because he had asked Tucker what it was at the time.

He looked up at Sam, not realizing he was full-on crying now, tears flowing down his cheeks in a stream to drip onto the green of the hoodie. Her and Tucker both laughed through tears of their own. Jazz was watching fondly, a hand to her mouth from trying to control her emotions.

“This is perfect. You guys are the best.” He grinned, flipping the jacket so the black was on the outside again and the bright green was on the inside. He wiggled into it, feeling a little better with all the notes and messages and doodles and memories so close to him.

Yeah. I can do this.

If he gave them hugs, they’d all fall apart again. So instead he winked to his friends with a grin before falling backwards, phasing out of the window as a human, and falling for a moment before transforming. Flying away, the dark hoodie had turned white, of course, to match his hair. He shouldered the backpack up higher and went invisible (as he would likely always be, now) towards his old home.

◇◆◇

Danny actively avoided searching around the house much once he got there. He had already had a very emotionally difficult day. He didn’t really need to see the remnants of his not-parents ignoring their children and leaving the house unused, unlived in, for the past six months. He did go to his room, trying to see if there was anything last minute he could think of that’d be worth keeping.

He hadn’t really been the sentimental type before, so he didn’t find much. He just shrugged, feeling the scribble hoodie on his shoulders and figuring that was good enough of a memento. Plus, it was probably better not to be bogged down with random stuff. It wasn’t like he’d never see his friends again, just not often. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Okay, time to get this over with. He phased down to the basement, looking around.

It had barely changed. In fact, it looked the most normal, being cluttered with machine parts and diagrams, bits of scientific equipment left without being put away. The rest of the house had been weirdly clean but covered in dust. He clenched his fists together, trying to not look at some of the more dangerous, scarily familiar equipment. I’m not there, I’m here on my own, no one is home, wow the lighting in here looks just the same as—Danny started doing his breathing exercises while looking around for a thermos. They had all decided it was the one thing from the Fenton lab worth keeping, at least in the short term. Danny wasn’t sure what problems to expect in the future, from now on.

 “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9. Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9. Gamma alpha—oh, there it is.”

Snatching the ghost thermos from where it had fallen under a table along with half a dozen other inventions, he quickly stashed it into his body’s ectoplasm.

Okay, time to build a bomb~

Danny was probably a bit too excited at the prospect of blowing up his childhood home.

The calmness that settled over him as he went about grabbing various parts and wires was weird, but better than panic. He pulled his phone out of his backpack, texting the group chat. He knew the others were waiting, since he was supposed to update them before going through the portal.

               Phanny pack

               Part A burn the house down is a go. Finishing up the bomb now

               Undergoth

Bit concerning how quicky you got that together actually

               Jazz hands

Im not even surprised. Got the thermos right?

               Phanny pack

               Yep, buried under junk. Im about to turn the portal on. T let me know when youre good

Tuckerbell

Im good when you are dude. Waiting till youre in the zone. Dont want to alert Plas until youre ready to come out the other side

Danny hummed, setting the phone down to finish up the wires for the bomb and starting the 10-minute timer. His parents kept gasoline for the Specter-Speeder, so he casually went about pouring it all over the lab, making sure the computers and all of their research notes were thoroughly soaked. He staged enough explosive chemicals nearby that it would take out the entire basement, and at least half the upper floors. He was hoping though, that the next-door neighbors’ houses would be fine. No need to ruin anyone else’s life while he was at it.

He started at the timer as a giant blinking numbers lit up red. Combined with the smell of gasoline and uncapped chemicals, boy he was glad he didn’t need oxygen.

1 0 : 0 0  flashed on and off. Danny wasn’t sure if it was ominous or reassuring.

Damn, this was really happening.

He picked up the phone.

               Phanny pack

               Pressing go now. T minus 10 mins. Maybe keep an eye on the news?

               Undergoth

Jazz already has the TV ready. It takes 15 to get to Vlads place through the zone, right?

               Phanny pack

               Yeah, roughly. Ill text you guys when im back out

Danny phased the phone back into his arm where it was easy to reach (always nice to have that handy). He checked the cash and thermos, both secure, and picked up his backpack from where he had dropped it by the portal. He went to the control panel, pressing a series of short commands before the big red button outlined in yellow and black that opened the portal itself.

Danny looked to where the machine powered up, electric coils whirling loudly, and the metal doors hissed before slowly sliding open. Danny could feel the radiating ectoplasm from here. Oh hell yeah, gonna get my some nice fresh ghost juice. He started typing into the computer a self-destruct sequence that he and the others had added without permission. He took a long wire to connect the portal controls to the bomb on the lab bench so they would go off simultaneously. 

If the GIW didn’t know something was up already, they definitely would soon. The portals sent out massive ecto-energy spikes around Amity. Meaning he had now until getting done at Vlad’s to get out of town. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Danny walked over to the self-made bomb, glancing over the chemicals and staging one last time and checking connections, then flicked the manual switch on the side.

The timer started counting down.

9 : 5 9

9 : 5 8

Danny looked back at the lab, taking in the cluttered, messy, well-used but poorly managed lab his non-parents had raised him in. Well, good riddance. He had better things to do with his life.

My turn, bitches.

Danny stepped through the portal.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you can’t get in?” Sam half-yelled, distressed. Danny had texted them about 10 minutes ago. They had already heard the sirens from the fire station run past Sam’s house, and they only had 5 minutes until Danny would be arriving at the entrance point to where Vlad’s portal usually appeared in the Zone (it wasn’t a dimension of exact spaces).

“That’s not what I said, Sam, don’t put words in my mouth!” Tucker half-yelled back, sweating.

“Guys!” Jazz interrupted the two, “Quit it! What’s going on, Tucker?” She was pacing back and forth, checking the phone frequently even though she knew Danny couldn’t text back until he came through. She glanced to the news channel they had pulled up on her tablet, but so far it was just the typical small-town stuff on the local news channel.

“I got in just fine, I just can’t deactivate all of the security measures on the portal! So, ok—” he broke off as his attention was pulled back to the hacking in process, typing in a blur, and then sighing heavily. “Like, yeah I’m in, that was easy. I have access to all of his stuff, at least on the local drives, but everything locked down as soon as I accessed the portal commands.”

“Ok, what does that mean?” Sam demanded from behind him, frantically trying to understand the wizardry Tucker was navigating on his screens.

“It means that once I open the portal, I’m not going to be able to do anything else on our end. I can’t close the portal without a bio-signature from Vlad. He must have added it as a safety procedure so he didn’t lock himself in the Zone.”

“Wait,” Jazz whirled, “why is that a problem? If we can open the portal, can’t Danny just come through and blow the lab manually like he did at the Fenton’s?”

“No,” the two answered at the same time.

“He wouldn’t be able to get out,” Sam elaborated, “Vlad has the entire lab coated in anti-ecto shit from when he was experimenting on Ellie! And probably to keep ghosts from escaping at his place the same way it did from yall’s basement.”

Jazz went pale. “Oh, that bastard…”

It’s weird to hear Jazz cuss, she always used to get onto us for it, Tucker thought.

“Which means,” Tucker thought aloud, “if we open the portal, we won’t have a way to close it, and Danny would be either trapped in the lab or in the Zone.” Tucker pushed his glasses up, still pouring over the screen to see if a workaround would come to mind. “But now that I’m in the system, it’s already registered an outside command. Vlad would already have gotten the notification, and I can’t open anything else or shut it down remotely. Or set anything to self-destruct.”

They were all quiet. Seconds ticked by.

“Okay, but we need to destroy that portal.” Jazz reiterated. “Couldn’t Danny go intangible and leave after the explosion?”

“Not really, unless you want to chance him being caught in an explosion surrounded by anti-ecto chemicals and metals?” Tucker countered.

“Shit.” She ran a hand through her hair, pulling at the ends of her ponytail.

“We don’t have a choice but to open it, if we want to let Danny know what’s happening,” Sam pointed out. “If we don’t open it, he’s going to be stuck anyways. Plus, he’s going to think something went wrong. We can’t do that to him.”

“But, he wouldn’t be able to get out—” Tucker objected.

“He can’t get out either way right now.” Sam cut off. “At least this way, we can tell him what’s going on. He might be able to find help in the Zone.”

“But what are we going to do,” Jazz asked, looking like she might cry. “If we leave Vlad’s portal intact, he’ll know it was us and go after Danny, but if we destroy it, then we don’t have a way to get Danny back!”

“We don’t have a better option, Jazz.” Sam said firmly, although her eyes were watering too.

Fuck, this plan didn’t take long to fall apart.

“Since when is Vlad smart enough to do anything like this, we’ve broken into his system a dozen times before!” Jazz threw her arms up in frustration. Vlad was an imbecile. An imbecile with money, but still.

“I bet it was the GIW again,” Tucker replied lowly. “Vlad’s also a half-ghost. The GIW would do the same thing to him that they did to Danny, if they knew what he was. He might have been trying to cover his ass since they got Danny.”

Jazz gasped. “But that would mean he would have known!”

Tucker shrugged. “Maybe? It could be something else. Maybe he thought we would suspect him of taking Danny, I don’t know.”

Jazz growled, balling her hands into fists at the thought of Vlad being in on the whole scheme. “Oh… That bastard!”

“Breaking news from Amity Park Central News!”

The sudden shift in tone from Jazz’s tablet startled all of them.

“A massive fire has just erupted in the residence and workplace of the infamous FentonWorks!” The video switched to a live-play of a very familiar looking front yard, where flames had completely engulfed the lower floors of the house and were climbing higher.

“Firefighters on site say that the fire is too hot to go inside, and so far it has not been confirmed whether anyone was inside at the time the fire started! It is also unknown what was the cause of the sudden disaster, as witnesses report to have heard an explosion.”

Jazz pressed a hand to her face. She felt like her head was going to explode.

“Ok so what’s the plan?!” Tucker asked in a panic, hands hovering uncertainly over his keyboard.

“Open it!” Sam said, and Jazz nodded. “We can’t do anything about it now! But we can tell Danny to stay hiding out in the Zone. We have to destroy both portals today. Otherwise, the GIW will just be able to hunt him down again, and this time, we might not be able to help.”

◇◆◇

Entering the portal felt like having all of the molecules in his body being activated simultaneously, leaving Danny feeling almost light-headed at the immediate reintroduction of concentrated ectoplasm. His core began humming in response to the renewed source of ambient energy, almost revving up in the awkward way a car would start after not being driven for a while. The flash of light that overcame him was bright before he finished passing into the green-glow aura of the Zone, his bodily ectoplasm settling into a steady but excited state. It made him grin stupidly at how good it felt, like he had finally regained control over his body. He immediately started pulling in ectoplasm to try and fill the gaping void the GIW had left. He had been feeling so weakened, so hollow, for so long that the sudden surge of power left him damn near euphoric.

“Oh man, finally, some good juice,” Danny thought aloud, his core still emitting a low purr as he started flying in the direction that Vlad’s portal usually appeared. He may have to search a bit, since the regions of the Zone tended to wander and warp randomly, but things more or less stayed in the same place unless they were actively disturbed.

It didn’t take long to arrive. The distances were a little different than in the real-world, but in general the ratios were the same. A longer distance in the physical world would correlate to a longer distance in the Ghost Zone, but give or take some unknowable number. It was hard to guess. The Zone shifted sometimes like a thing with a soul itself, not alive of course, but somehow still with an uncanny feeling of awareness. Danny personally thought it responded to the general feel of the resident ghosts.

The two artificial portals had slowly floated closer together over time, which was an odd phenomena but kind of explained by the fact they were human-made. Natural portals tended to remain open for very long periods of time, usually centuries, before closing up slowly. It also took a substantial amount of time for new ones to form, too, usually in response to a chronic imbalance of metaphysical forces in the real-world. But the two gated portals made by the Fentons and Plasmius himself opened and closed frequently and abruptly, and it seemed to be a disturbance to the lulled mull of the Zone’s typical atmosphere.

Luckily, this made his commute much shorter. He was glad the two had never gotten so close that it had been an immediate threat to his movements in and out of the Zone. Hey, that’s another thing I won’t have to worry about anymore.

Danny passed a familiar set of floating pillar-like rocks that he knew indicated he was nearing the Plasmius-space destination. He wondered if Vlad himself would experience a shortage of ectoplasm after having his portal destroyed. Danny hoped he did. Probably not though, Vlad was healthy after all.

Getting closer now, Danny started looking around while still actively funneling ectoplasm into his system. Like he thought, his core was busy expelling the old ectoplasm in favor of fresher, more energized goop. The wandering miniature blob-ghosts that existed just about everywhere in this dimension would be able to find the used (contaminated?) ecto and filter it out. They were kind of like honeybees, actually. Or, more accurately, like bacteria. Or white blood cells. Nasty-nasty-removers. The begonners of thots, if you will.

Danny paused once he entered the large, clear space the portal usually sat. None of the other ghosts he knew came here, since ghosts were fairly territorial and none of the others trusted Plasmius due to his human-world connections. Which, given his predicament, was rational.

Danny hummed absently, looking around. He pulled out the Foley phone, checking the time. It had been designed with an internal, mechanical clock so that it didn’t get off track with the loss of satellite signal when switching dimensions, so it was useful to have even if he couldn’t send any messages yet.

16 minutes had passed since he entered the Zone. Tucker had said he would open it as soon as Danny entered. Weird, the portal should be here by now.

Danny decided to do another sweep around some of the peripheral areas, trying to ignore the growing pain in his chest that told him he was getting anxious. It would be stupid to mess up the plan just because he couldn’t find the portal, after all.

After doing a few loops, Danny was struggling to keep the anxiety down. His first instinct was to head back home to the portal he entered to check with his friends, but uh, he had just gotten done blowing that option out of the water. Out of the sky, even. How did the saying go?

Danny shook his head.

“Okay, gotta focus… what are my options again?” Danny pulled the backpack to his front, looking inside. Nothing that would help right now. He put it back on, putting a hand to his chest like it would soothe the pain there (it wouldn’t).

He checked the phone again.

24 minutes. Nearly 10 after Tucker was supposed to have let him in.

Danny felt lost. What did he do? Searching elsewhere for the portal didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t have moved that far. Danny hadn’t passed it on the way over, so it couldn’t have migrated closer to the other portal entrance, either.

“Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” Danny recited, literally feeling like he was spinning in circles.

He frowned, trying to think. It was frustrating how helpless he felt. Is this why all the ghosts had poured out of his basement when he first activated the other portal? The tension of just existing here, in near-complete stasis, all the time? Ghosts existed primarily out of their attachment to whatever obsession they possessed, which needed to be stimulated, so to say, from time to time or the ghost would fade. Interacting with the physical world was usually the easiest way to accomplish this, hence why paranormal sightings and occurrences weren’t that uncommon, even if they were usually so unexplainable that reports were doubted by nearly everyone else. The realization that he had essentially given the local ghosts an all-you-can-eat buffet for their afterlife hyperfixations really hadn’t occurred to him before, which was kind of funny in its own way.

Danny was snapped out his musings by a sudden shhht, and he jerked his head towards the direction of a searing white light that seemed to split vertically like a cut before being dragged open forcibly, distorting the reality around it.

Danny sighed—the others were okay. Maybe Vlad’s security had some extra secret firewalls or something, after all.

Danny immediately flew to the portal, hovering just outside of it to suck up as much last-minute ectoplasm as he could, before turning invisible and exiting through the portal.

The cool, metallic lab that greeted him was familiar to Danny, although the cleaner and more sterile-seeming quality of the lab still caused him to shiver as several unpleasant memories came to mind.

Even though he was invisible, another ghost would easily be able to detect him, so as soon as he crossed the threshold, Danny began to look around in case they had all been mistaken and he was about to get ambushed by his very creepy, very grumpy Godfather after all. Hey, if I’m not a Fenton anymore, that means I don’t have the world’s greatest incel for a Godfather anymore, either. Talk about a win-win.

True to their knowledge though, the lab seemed empty. Danny walked in carefully, noiselessly, past the experimental table that was currently empty and the several bio-housing containments Vlad had used to grow clones in. They all seemed to be filled with ectoplasm, but even after a double check, all of them were empty. Which was good, Danny couldn’t really deal with another post-cloning dilemma again, especially at the moment.

A muffled ringing broke through the silence and Danny nearly jumped out of his skin. Well, he didn’t have skin per se, but he did jump a couple feet into the air to hover.

Belatedly though, he realized the ringing was actually coming from his arm where the secure phone was floating. Danny phased it out of his body and immediately answered, knowing it was one of three people.

“What’s going on?”

“Danny, you need to get out of there.”

Ice filled his veins, and not the ice-core pleasant kind. Danny felt like jelly as he landed uneasily, his chest tightening at the seriousness in Sam’s voice.

“What?” he asked, voice cracking as he started looking around again. He imagined men in white suits breaking the door down, coming to get him with guns and knives and—

“Plas amped his systems up, the whole lab is on lockdown.”

Danny blinked, trying to process that. Okay, no GIW at least, for now, yeah this is fine—

“I just got here though,” he said. What could be wrong?

“I know, he—” the phone was suddenly snatched away as Sam’s voice switched to Tucker’s.

“Everything in the system froze up as soon we unlocked the Portal, Danny. You’re not going to be able to open any doors in the lab or anything.”

A beat passed while Danny processed that.

“Where the hell am I supposed to go, then?” Danny asked, panic now rising in his voice.

“You’re going to have to go back to the Zone.” Tucker replied, sounding defeated.

Danny’s eyes were wide. That would mean he’d be cut off from all of them.

“Hold on, let me look around and see if I can deactivate anything,” Danny said, holding the phone up telekinetically as he ran over to Vlad’s control panel and started typing in commands. Every one of them popped up the same message.

‘Bio-signature required for further action.’

“I dunno man, it looks pretty tightly sealed from here—” Tucker objected.

After the third failed command, a woman’s voice rung out through the speakers in the lab. “Vladdy, darling, you can’t re-activate the lab until you’ve reset the control panel, remember? Gotta keep the ghost-bugs away!” The voice had a teasing quality that Danny knew wasn’t real.

Still, the sickening, falsely sweet voice of his mother filled the lab, and Danny cringed away. The phone clanked to the floor as he lost focus on the telekinesis. His—his mother’s—no, Dr. Fenton’s—ahk, her voice rang through his head like a cascade of wind chimes. Danny tripped backwards, landing ungraciously on the floor next to the phone. Ancients, no, my mom can’t be here, they’re going to kill me, she’s never going to let me go—

Tucker’s voice pulled him back to the moment.

“Danny? Danny, what was that? Are you okay?”

“Danny?!” Jazz’s voice was in the background.

He picked up the phone, trying to find his words. “Yeah, sorry, got distracted.” He ground out, trying to shake the panic away, “Uh, yeah, you’re right Tuck, I can’t access any of this. And I’m not going to be able to phase out either.” They had all learned that the hard way, before.

Danny turned again to look back to the portal, then down at his phone.

I just got them back.

He hugged the hoodie tighter to himself, feeling his throat start to close.

Fuck my life—Gamma alpha upsilon—No, shit, I need to get out of here, that’s two portals opened now, the GIW is gonna know.

Danny shoved himself off the floor, breathing out slowly but bouncing up and down nervously like a jogger getting ready for a sprint. “Ok, ok, guys? Guys, we need to blow the lab, right? To slow them down?”

“Yeah,” Sam responded, apparently having taken the phone back. “Danny, if you can hack a workaround before you leave, Tucker might be able to still wipe their systems.”

Danny stared at the massive control panel and attached computers, paling a bit at the prospect.

“I-I don’t know how—”

“Danny, I’ll walk you through it, okay?” Tucker said in a hushed tone, and Danny tried to focus on the warmth of that. He looked back at the door, now afraid of what could possibly come in at any time.

I’m still not strong enough to fight.

“Walk over to the back of the computer and open the side panel and tell me what you see.” Tucker instructed, and Danny made his way there obediently. He instinctively tried to phase it off, but forgot it was anti-ecto coated, so his fingers just jammed into it when he tried. He yanked them back in surprise, once more holding the phone telekinetically near his ear, and started looking around for a crowbar or screwdrivers.

Vlad’s lab was actually organized, so no random bits of metal to mess with. Danny got up. “Hold on, I need tools—” he rushed to the wall where several kinds of equipment were on display and grabbed the first one with a sharp edge. He searched the drawers until he found a pair of wire cutters too, probably would need those. At least this lab was well-stocked, he was used to working with spare parts.

Danny rushed back to the panel and wedged the piece in. The metal might have been anti-intangible, but it wasn’t anti-superstrength. It came off easily.

“Okay,” Danny breathed, looking at the mess of wires and blinking lights, “now what?”

“What wires are connected to the large red circuit board?”

Danny looked, peering at an angle to try and find it. There were a lot of circuit boards inside, most of them green. Red for danger, maybe?

“Green, yellow, two black, and a lot of red ones.”

“Follow the yellow one and tell me where it goes.”

Danny tried, floundering. He had to remove another panel to get to it.

“I don’t know what it is, a big box thing.”

“Read me the label?”

He did, and Tucker hummed. “Not that one, check the green one.”

Danny did, feeling more and more unsure by the second. He glanced back at the door again. It would just take one person with a gun or a dart—

“Danny?”

“Right, uh, green, uhhh—” Danny’s clenched his hands, trying to focus. “A different circuit board, it’s got red and blue lights on it? And some switches.”

“That’s it. Flip all the switches so they’re blue.”

Danny did.

“Now,” Tucker continued, “Go back to the first panel and cut the two black ones.”

Danny pulled out the cutters and quickly finished that.

Danny heard some typing over the phone and looked to the door again.

“Okay good job, I think I’m good—”

“Can you just open the doors?” Jazz interrupted from the background.

“No, not without the bio-signature. It’s not just a password, it’d need a complete systems reset and I can’t do that from here. Danny, I’m in the system now so I’m going to work on wiping the panel computer and uploading the virus, but you need to be out of there before I do. We can’t have the portal go down before we shut everything off, or you’ll be trapped.”

The idea of Danny locked in a dark, lightless lab, not being able to phase out, not being able to escape, crossed his mind. Danny felt nauseous.

“Okay, so, what, I go back to the Zone?”

“Do you think you can make a bomb from what’s in the room?” Sam pressed.

Oh yeah. That was part of the plan, too.

“Let me see what I have in this lab…”

Danny got up from his crouch by the systems panel, feeling a bit better not needing to mess with the electronics anymore. He started opening drawers and cabinets, pulling things out at random and making a giant mess in his rush. He threw everything that looked useful onto the workbench, discarding everything else onto the floor. He paused, running over to where the cloning pods were stored, and started rifling through the chemical units. Hm, lots of acids. Not as flammable as gasoline, but still strong oxidizers. He could work with that.

He floated the phone closer to him.

“I think so. It’ll take a little longer though, there’s less random junk here.”

He got to work. He cannibalized a lot of other machinery, including the cloning pods. They were complicated machines with a lot of useful parts, after all. He had to pry them open with a screwdriver, but he was slowly piecing the bomb together. Danny made sure to dump most of the chemicals near the back ends of the portal itself—hopefully, it would be too ruined to reverse-engineer. By the time an almost-workable bomb had been built, another 10 minutes had passed.

“Daniel, my boy, what on earth do you think you are doing?”

Danny yelped, the phone dropped again (thank Ancients it was modelled after a Nokia), and he looked around, clenching his fist into an ecto-blast automatically.

Danny didn’t see anyone. His ghost sense hadn’t gone off either.

“Er… Plasmius?”

A security camera in the corner turned slightly, catching Danny’s eye. Danny relaxed a fraction.

“I’ll have you know the Ghost Investigation Ward is on its way to your location as we speak. Unless of course, you’d like me to intervene?”

That same drenching ice water fell over Danny once more. Or maybe it was more like liquid mercury, pure poison—

“Go to hell.”

“Danny?” He picked up the phone from the ground again.

“T, Fruitloop has remote comms up in the lab. Think you can boot him off?” Danny went back to working on the bomb. It was much, much harder now that his hands were shaking visibly. Were they close?

“Daniel, if you listen to me, I will help you evade them.”

“On it,” Tucker intoned.

“You helped with their bullshit, Vlad, don’t give me that shit!” Danny snarled, whipping his head angrily to glare at the camera.

“Only minimally, Daniel. I didn’t know they were planning to keep you there the way they did. I have other plans for them that don’t involve you, but I promise I can keep the GIW away if you stop what you’re doing.”

“I said,” Danny roared, “go to hell!” and then he picked up the wrench he was using and threw it at the security camera. It spun through the air, and with the force he threw it, not only hit the camera but embedded into the wall behind it as well.

Danny attached the last piece, carrying it over to the control panel for the portal. Vlad was a lot more careful about which buttons were left exposed to operate it, but Danny had long since memorized the setup. Danny was fuming.

A comm sparked to life in a different corner of the room, a red light blinking told Danny that Vlad had found another camera to use. “Daniel, let’s think this through. You’ve already destroyed your house. If you destroy this portal, you won’t have a way back home.”

He must have seen the news. Danny forced himself to grin. “Oh, so you know what this is, then?” He tapped the bomb with the back of his hand playfully.

“This is no time for games, Daniel. The GIW will be there soon.”

Oh, fuck this guy. Danny’s sarcastic grin fell to a darker glare. “Really? Because I’m having quite a bit of fun, actually, ruining your little party stand. Charades are so last year, old man.” Danny was sick of Vlad using his money to support the anti-ghost movement while trying to play his own cards at double-crossing, all while being able to hide behind his mask of ‘philanthropist governor’. “Are you sure this is about me, Plasmius, or do you not want to lose your little private source of unlimited ectoplasm?”

“You know that we both can regenerate more easily. I’m more concerned that you’re about to leave your entire life behind. All of your friends, your dear sister—”

“Don’t you dare bring them into this!”

“Who’s going to stop me with you gone?”

Danny flinched. He forced himself to look back at the bomb and started connecting wires to the main ports, entering just a 5-minute timer this time. Ignore-him-ignore-him-ignore-him…

“Daniel—” Plasmius’s voice broke off suddenly, and Danny looked to the floating phone in relief.

“Got ‘em,” Tucker said, a grin obvious in his voice.

“Can you still wipe the system, Tuck? I don’t think Vlad has caught on to the full plan, yet.”

“I should be able to. I’m uploading the virus now before I wipe the portal system.”

Tucker had explained the virus to them all earlier. Basically, he would only be to directly delete the data stored on the portal computer once he was in, but any other data or files that Vlad had backed up elsewhere, connected to the system but stored separately, would be harder to access. So Tuck had programmed a virus that would be uploaded to the nearest server to randomly start deleting things. As soon as anyone tried to isolate it, it would jump servers via that new connection. So it would hop from base to base depending on the origin signal where Vlad or his employees would be trying to stop the virus from, frying everything it touched as it went. It might not be a complete wipe, but it would ruin most of his main servers.

And that is why T was their Tuckerbell, their little fix-it fairy. It was basically magic, in Danny’s mind.

“When is the bomb going off?” Tucker asked while Danny was finishing hooking up the device to the main console.

“Five minutes. He could have been bluffing about the GIW, but I’m not going to chance it.” Finished with the makeshift bomb, Danny went back and grabbed the rest of the available chemicals to start pouring anything flammable over the controls and computers.

“Okay, I can wipe the serves as soon as you’re gone. You are leaving, right? No heroics this time?”

Danny gulped. I’m not a hero anymore.

“No,” Danny responded, his voice very thick now. He’s going to hurt them. He’s going to make their lives hell and there won’t be anything I can do about it. Danny squeezed his eyes closed, sobbing quietly at the thought.

There was a shuffle and a word or two Danny couldn’t catch, and then a different voice answers.

“Danny, it’s me,” Jazz’s voice was calm, much calmer than Danny would have thought possible given the situation. “Listen to me, we’re going to be okay, do you understand?”

Danny flipped the switch.

4 : 5 9

“We’ll be perfectly fine. Danny, you know that Vlad was just trying to scare you.”

Danny walked over to the portal, standing in front of the normally ominous glow. Right now, it felt welcoming.

He grabbed the phone again to hold it, staring down at the simple microphone attached.

He was crying still.

“The GIW nor Vlad can’t do anything to us. Sam and Tucker will be fine and I’m in Chicago, they can’t do anything to us.”

“How do you know that.” Just the thought of government agents in white suits and black glasses pulling quietly removing his two best friends from Amity make him shiver. He clasped his neck again where he remembered seeing the needle point injuries. They have no morals. Nothing they won’t do.

“C’mon, phan my man, you know we can take care of ourselves.” Tucker joked, although Danny could hear him sniffling, too.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to take down the American government for years, now,” Sam added, sounding a tad more confident than Tuck did. She was just like that—fucking fearless, ready to take on the world. “Trust me,” Sam continued, “we got this. Just get out, and take care of yourself. Did you start the timer?”

Danny glanced back.

3 : 3 7

“3 minutes,” he answered.

“Good. Danny, just go back to the Zone, and try to figure something out. There are other portals, you’ll be able to find one. And when you get out, you know how to reach us.”

What if they won’t be here when I get back?

“Danny, one missing kid from a small town is one thing. If both Tucker and I go missing and we were connected to you, it will look too suspicious. They wouldn’t risk that.”

They probably wouldn’t risk it, Danny corrected mentally.

“Our parents would notice, and mine won’t let it slide. Besides, he GIW is losing resources by the second, they won’t have anything over us. We’ll be okay.”

“Just think about how pissed Plas is gonna be when he finds out what this virus does. It’s gonna fuck him up good. Which—” Tucker paused, and Danny heard a loud, pronounced click. “Just happened. And once you blow the lab there—ecto-signature data, Zone maps, DNA research,” Tuck started listing, “hidden files, everything on you, every bit of shady business he’s done there. It’ll be gone. Danny, he’s gonna be too busy with his own problems to worry about a couple of high schoolers.” Danny paused at that. Maybe.

Danny took several deep breaths, trying to come to terms with everything. Losing the lab would be a pretty major loss for Vlad. He had obviously been in enough distress to try and talk Danny out of it. Still, this isn’t how the plan was supposed to go.

“You promise you’ll be okay?” Danny bit his lip. He was still nervous. Maybe I should have tried to get in touch with Bruce. Now it’s too late.

“We promise,” Sam said.

“We’ll be okay!” Jazz added.

“You got this, man. We got this.” He could imagine Tucker smiling.

Danny took another deep breath, unneeded or not.

He looked back at the timer.

0 : 4 8

“Okay, guys. I need to get out. I love you.” Just saying those words aloud, amidst all of this, made his throat and chest hurt with emotion.

“We love you, too. Go be safe. Eat your protein bars.”

He laughed. “I will. 30 seconds, T.”

“On your cue.”

Danny closed his eyes. “I love you,” he repeated.

Danny stepped back into the portal.

◇◆◇

After re-entering the Ghost Zone, Danny promptly had a breakdown. He had flown away from the portal entrance in case anything would come through, even knowing it was supposed to go down before the bomb was supposed to go off. Still, didn’t hurt to be careful. He floated over to sit on a random rock, staring at the shimmering crack between realities, and watched as it seemed to stutter in brightness and then collapsing inwards with a distorted thwik.

Danny cried for a while.

It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to handle this. He knew he could. But… this isn’t how he had wanted things to go. He had planned for an extended time on the run in his world, not the Zone. On one hand, he really wasn’t on the run at all, here. But mostly he hated the loss of contact. The not knowing what would happen. He never really recovered from his loss of time with the GIW, and this would only make it worse. At least he had his Foley phone, it had a reliable time keeping mechanism. But it didn’t help calm his worries about how the others would fare. Both Vlad and the GIW knew what he was up to now, and where he was, and that his friends had helped him. What if they…

“Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu,” calm-down-calm-down, “epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9. Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1,” I’m okay, they’ll be okay, “colon 65 dash 9. Gamma alpha upsilon tau io—”

“Danny Phantom,” a voice said from behind, “you have been summoned by the Ancient of Time.”

Danny spun, nearly falling off his rock.

Danny turned to see an Observant staring calmly at him. Danny stared back in shock for a moment, before turning his back to the ghost, hurriedly trying to get his emotions together. He went through the movement of breathing, holding it in, then out, slowly. He wiped his face, and then for comfort, pulled up his hoodie. It felt nice.

He turned back to the ghost, trying his best to look bored.

“Summoned?” he asked dryly.

“Yes, by the Ancient of Time, he requests that—”

“Imma have to stop ya right there, friend.” Danny cut in, shoving his hands into the large front pocket. “Tell Clockwork to buzz off. I’m busy.”

“Actually, he specifically informed me that you would be available at this time.”

Danny’s eye twitched. “Not interested.”

“One cannot simple refuse the summoning of Ancient, young ghost.”

“I said,” Danny ground out, now fully glaring at the one-eyed ghost. “Tell him to buzz off.”

Danny let his legs dematerialize and flew off past the ghost. It took every ounce of his self-control not to shoulder check the Observant, but he managed.

Whatever, I need to find something to do around here anyways.

Danny could feel the Observant following him, some 10 paces behind. Danny rolled his eyes.

Hm. Stuck in the Ghost Zone with near unlimited time on his hands. What was a young halfa to do. Maybe I should stop calling this place the Ghost Zone. That’s what the Fenton’s called it, and they meant it in a derogatory way.

He should probably go check with Frostbite first, then maybe Pandora. One of those two should know where to start looking for natural portals. He hadn’t actually explored much of the Zone—the Ghost Dimension (maybe?) outside of what was needed, so that was going to be interesting. He did pass a handful of other ghosts, most of which did stop to look at him as he passed. The third time this happened, Danny stopped to stare back, feeling belligerent. It wasn’t a ghost he knew. After noticing him square up, they turned and flew off in the direction opposite of where they had been going previously. Danny tilted his head. Okay that was weird. If anything, there were usually more confrontations for randomly wandering into and around another ghost’s territory. He glanced back at the Observant, who had stopped when he did, still floating about 10 feet behind him.

“Have you decided to comply with the summoning?”

“No, but you’re making me stand out. Can’t you float like, further away?”

To his surprise, the Observant seemed to consider it. “I do not think it would be wise, no.” It’s weird how they don’t blink.

Danny rolled his eyes with a sigh. He kept flying, almost aimlessly. The panic of go get away now had been constant on his mind since he escaped just a couple days ago, the undercurrent of stress so real and urgent. He realized he didn’t know what to do now, with a smidgen of safety. The GIW wouldn’t be able to get to him here, neither with the Fenton’s help or Vlad’s, now that they had destroyed the portals. He allowed himself to grin at the small victory, anxiety attack aside. He still needed to get back and make sure his friends were okay, but the change in pace still felt confusing. He almost felt like taking a nap. The excess of ectoplasm was great too, he actually felt almost refreshed with all of the gunk out of his system.

Danny had been wandering near the areas where a lot of his local rogues stayed. Still, he hadn’t quite expected to fly pass by a large piece of rubble just to see three familiar rogues idly waiting nearby, now all turning to him as he came into view.

“Holy Ancients, is that you Babypop?!”

Danny hesitated, lifting his head to eye the group suspiciously. Should he run?

“Hey, it is the lil’ slugger,” the deeper voice confirmed.

Johnny was grinning at him, leaning against his motorcycle, with Kitty sitting on the handlebars. No way she’d be able to balance like that with gravity. The third ghost had already jumped up and darted straight at him, catching him roughly into her arms as blue flames danced in his face.  

“Hey, Ember,” Danny made out tightly, trying to hug her back out of habit. Wait, why is she hugging me? She had her arms wrapped tightly around both of his and was spinning him in a circle.

“Babypop! Holy shit! Where have you been!” She let go of him, held him at arm’s length to look at him, and then hugged him again. “Guys! It’s Danny!”

“We can see that, firefly,” Kitty laughed back, grinning at Danny’s captivity. Ember finally let go and dragged him over to the group. He couldn’t help but grin at the antics.

“Heya, bud,” Johnny greeted, holding a cigarette. Considering that tobacco wasn’t a thing in the Zone Dimension, Danny thought it was funny he was burning off some ectoplasm just for the aesthetics. Maybe it satisfied the long-dead habit? Or, he just had a fire core and was actually burning something.

“Hey, guys,” Danny nodded. “What are you up to?”

“Waiting for Skulks,” Ember rolled her eyes. “S’possed to be heading to a party, but he’s late again.”

Danny winced, looking around.

“Don’t worry about him, I got ‘em under control,” Ember nudged him. She was floating with her legs crossed, assessing him.

Kitty glanced overhead of Danny, looking a little tense.

“What’s with the time keeper following you?”

“Ignore him,” Danny huffed. “They’re being stubborn.” Danny was mostly sure the Observants were genderless.

“Sounds like you are, too,” Kitty joked back.

Danny just shrugged. He kind of felt bad for the Observant, given that it wasn’t them Danny was mad at, currently. Not shooting the messengers and all that yada. Right now, Danny didn’t care.

Ember glanced back at the ghost, who hadn’t spoken on his own behalf yet, and then tilted her head down to peer up at Danny under his hoodie. “Hey, what’s been up with you? We haven’t seen you around in ages. Some of your friends even came by lookin’ for ya.”

Danny lowered his gaze.

“Don’t pester him, Ember, kids probably had a rough time of late.” The motorcycle revved agreeably in response to Johnny’s words. That’s kinda cute.

“We’ve just been worried is all, sugar,” Kitty explained with a small smile. Danny smiled back, fidgeting with the strings of the hoodie.

This felt weird. They had never all just, hung out, like this before.

“Babypop, what’s wrong?” Ember asked again. “Want me to punch anyone for ya?” She made a fist, whipping her guitar around front. “Or bust their eardrums?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Got a bit roughed up is all.”

Kitty and Johnny passed a look. Ember hummed, letting her guitar fall to rest against her back again and slinging an arm around his shoulders casually.

“Well, whoever they are, you can tell ‘em that the Amity ghosts will be here next time they come by. I’ve been itching for a fight.” She rested her head on top of Danny’s. It felt… nice. Reminded him of Jazz, actually.

Danny blinked as his vision slowly became blurry once more. Not a good time to cry, nope, stop crying right now—

“Aw geez, you made ‘em cry Emb.” Johnny reached into a jacket pocket, pulling out a surprisingly usable looking tissue.

Ember flicked him off, which made them all laugh. Danny took the tissue, also laughing.

“It’s okay, I’ve been crying a lot lately.” Danny belatedly winced at the words. Wow that sounded pathetic.

“Who’s been making my most elusive prey cry?” Danny looked up to see Skulker’s massive form flying over to loom over the group. He was much larger than any of them, especially Danny.

Danny suddenly felt very keenly aware how closely he was standing with Ember. She didn’t budge though as he showed up.

“Skulker! Look, Danny’s back!

Skulker raised a brow at her very obvious statement. He also looked at Danny, who floated kind of hunched with his hood pulled up to partially hide his face. Danny waved very lamely, half-ready to run if needed.

“Whelp.”

“Skulker.”

Ember smacked his arm, which thudded metallically. “Don’t call my Babypop whelp!”

Skulker put his hands up. “I always call him whelp though! It’s our thing!”

That actually made Danny laugh. He was going to have to ask Pandora about some of this. This whole interaction was weird to the extreme.

When did Ember suddenly get so protective of him? Why were they all being so nice?

“Are you coming with us to the party, er, Phantom?”  Skulker asked instead. Ancients, weird weird weird.

Danny thought about it. He’s never been to a ghost party. Outside of that though, it seemed completely unnecessary. “Uhhh, well, I wasn’t planning to? Actually, I was heading to find Frostbite or someone. Trying to find a portal.”

They all stared at him. “Don’t you have a portal?” Kitty asked, verbalizing for all of them.

Danny laughed a little too forcibly. “Er, well, not uh, not anymore. Neither does Plasmius now, by the way, just so you all know. If you see him, let me know though, I’ve been trying to avoid him.” They all made various faces of disgust at the name.

“Wait, is that why you’ve been gone for so long?” Ember asked. “You’ve been stirring up some real shit, huh?”

Danny made a so-so gesture. “Ehhh, not really no. So um,” Danny gulped, looking down again. “I kind of got… captured?”

None of them reacted.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see their faces. Would they be gleefully vengeful? Or just sorry for him? “Oh,” he continued, voice cracking, “and um, if you see the GIW, def for sure avoid them at like, all costs.”

A second passed. Danny actually risked opening his eyes again, bewildered. Why weren’t they saying anything? Or even laughing at him? He had been the one to capture all of them in the past, after all.

Ember had tensed next to him. Kitty, who had been chewing gum, silently blew a bubble. It popped. Johnny looked shocked, and Skulker had his eyes narrowed. What, did they not believe him?

“What?” he finally spat out, feeling more than a little embarrassed.

“You mean to tell me,” Ember started, anger lacing her voice as her hair started to flare dangerously high to the point where she let go of him to float nearby, radiating blue fire, “those shitheads got you too?” Her green eyes bore into his confused ones.

Danny finally realized her face was twitching with barely suppressed rage—but not at him.

Skulker reached to put a hand on her shoulder, and the flames died down slightly. Skulker was grinding his teeth together. “I am sorry, whelp,” he offered. Ancients, this was going in his diary of ultra-weird ghost shit to happen to him post-mortem, what the actual hell. Danny scuffed his foot on the ground, looking down again.

“I’ve been trying to keep them away from you all,” Danny explained.

Ember was now holding her hands behind her head. Her hair kept blazing out periodically, flickering with her emotions. Johnny flicked his cigarette, looking uncomfortable.

“What do you mean, too?” Danny asked instead, when none of them said anything.

Kitty and Johnny winced, watching Ember carefully as her hands balled into fists.

“I did encounter them, once…” Skulker admitted, “they were formidable foes. It felt like… I was the prey, instead of the hunter.” 

Danny swallowed. Seriously, Skulker? He didn’t know if he should show sympathy for the ghost or not. Skulker didn’t seem like the type to appreciate pity.

“I felt the same.”

Ember suddenly spun around, her hair shimmering in wild blue flame. “Oh fuck! Wait! If you’ve been gone, does that mean you haven’t heard the news yet?”

Danny went cold again. “What…” his voice was gone. His throat was closing up. “What news?” He gripped his hoodie tightly from where he was clenching the fabric inside the pockets. He felt ice tingling up his arms.

They all stared at him with renewed surprise. Danny glared at it, feeling defensive. There’s always something going on I don’t know about.

Ember though, somehow so loud and boisterous in a way that would have annoyed others (but not him—it was kind of endearing, actually, like a not-parentified big sister), rushed over to throw her arms around him again. Her hair felt warm instead of hot where it flickered against his shoulder. He slowly relaxed into it. It didn’t matter how weird this was, he decided, it was appreciated right now. He indulged himself, slowly removing his arms from the hoodie to hug her back. Weirdness can be figured out later.

Finally she released him, touching his chin and smiling encouragingly. “You should go talk to Clockwork, Danny. He knows what’s up.”

Danny could see the others nodding. Kitty gave him a thumbs up.

Damn it.

He sighed. He closed his eyes, groaning audibly and slumping. “Fine.”

He turned to the Observant, who had not reacted to anything during the entire conversation.

“Have you decided to comply with the summoning?”

Danny fought down the wave of resentment that washed over him. His eyes flashed blue momentarily, he could feel his ice wanting to be released, but he smothered it.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Chapter Text

Bruce was smiling absently at the group conversation between several prominent socialites, nodding when necessary to maintain the appearance of participation. He didn’t particularly like attending these events, but it was necessary to do so periodically to maintain his civilian identity. Sometimes he felt like this side of things was worse than his own nightly activities. At least as Batman, he could make his own opinions clear. Here, it was all false niceties and melodramatics. Central City wasn’t a bad location, though, aside from dealing with the Flash’s antics for a couple extra days.

The one thing it did allow Bruce to do was openly observe some of the more influential members of high society. It was considered the typical form in which the ultra-wealthy were able to speculate about the personal and professional affairs of their competition, a social norm that Bruce all but loathed. However, his training gave him a definite edge to this pseudo-hostile environment; for instance, as he made his way through different circles, he ignored the immediate persons talking to him and focused on the people in his periphery. He had noticed in the past that a majority of people tended to focus their attention only on the immediate conversations before them in an attempt to pinpoint the hidden meanings and various microexpressions. This meant people dropped their masks just slightly in between groups, and he had picked up on more than one poorly planned ploy by using this method. Bruce was very good at maintaining a neutral mask to get past this façade.

Currently, nodding through the conversation in front of him while mentally filtering through the verbal and visual white noise, he was watching one Vladamir Masters, CEO and founder of VladCo. He had risen to wealth fairly early on his career, having specialized in biotechnology. Most of his company’s products focused on DNA sequencing and molecular technology. He had proposed several collaborations with WayneTech Enterprises in the past, but they had always declined. What had caught Batman’s eye though was the recent rounds of large orders that began six months ago. It had started with WayneTech cyber-security, which is considered the best in the industry. This alone would not have been alarming, since any company dealing with pharmaceuticals should have adequate security software. But then VladCo had begun requesting large amounts of custom materials, including high-powered energy cells, long-range sensors, and various other satellite accessories.

Bruce was keenly aware that the technology his company developed could easily be put to use in the worst of ways. So, he always flagged unusual orders from customers, including any excessively expensive purchases. 

After doing some digging into his finances (him and Tim had stayed up three nights in a row between the company, patrols, and this side project before Alfred had intervened), they found truly massive amounts of chemicals had also been shipped to his private residence. Even for a man who worked out of his home (Bruce could, at least, understand that tendency), it seemed unreasonable.

The most baffling aspect of the whole order—which in the end, WayneTech had declined to produce, was the request for all of the parts to be made of custom metals. Some parts such as the long-range sensors were meant to be customized to include odd components such as neodymium and europium. They had also placed custom orders for many top-selling WayneTech products to be made out of a custom metal alloy: 55.6% titanium, 12.9% platinum, 8.9% neodymium, 6.3% hafnium, and others, all specified with the isotopic masses as well. Bruce initially thought it had been an extremist hobby of some kind, but they had found nothing that matched the uses of the metals described. Bruce had relentlessly researched this, looking everywhere from medical journals to electronics advancements to nanotech applications. Nothing seemed to suggest that the exact combination of those metals at those precise proportions would have yielded anything scientifically unique. Which made him that much more suspicious of the order.

Bruce eventually had his personal assistant request for more information about the alloy, to which VladCo had sent very detailed instructions on how to produce the alloys in a stable matrix, but ignored all questions for its uses, stating it was related to private technological advancements for the company. When they declined the order, VladCo had doubled down, offering to pay up to three times the market prices for the materials to have the products made at the desired specifications and built with the integrity of WayneTech products.

Bruce had blacklisted him from the company altogether at that point.

Still, he had never been able to completely shake the feeling that he had missed something, something not as simple as a random billionaire’s eccentric spending habits.

Tim had decided to continue the search on his own after that, even though Bruce had needed to move onto other ongoing cases. Apparently that exact combination of metals had been previously ordered to Masters’ residence under different accounts which all had a shared VPN to VladCo computers. That had actually alarmed Bruce more than the initial orders received by WayneTech, since it suggested there was an actual purpose for it. The orders had been going for years, with a stark increase in the past two years, and then another increase in the last six months. There were orders of all kinds; ranging from medical equipment to high-grade weapons made from alloys with a significantly higher amount of hafnium. They had previously been from other prominent engineering companies before turning to Bruce’s own. In the end, he was glad to have declined any such dealings with the man.

Gotham, the vast majority of the time, required 100% of Batman’s attention. He was more frequently pulled away from the city since joining up with the League, but he did on occasion pursue other cases. When Tim informed him that Bruce Wayne had been invited to the 50^th anniversary celebration for Central City’s famous particle collider (due to their generous funding of the local university’s science programs), and that Masters had accepted to attend as an invited guest as well… Well. That had been too convenient to entirely let go.

Now they were here, Tim somewhere else in the busy hall mingling with other younger business leaders to maintain his own civilian persona, and Bruce was currently standing several feet away from Masters himself, nodding along politely to a dull conversation about the recent university politics. He had carefully began extracting himself mentally from his social persona to focus all of Batman’s attention on the unassuming man several paces away.

Batman catalogued Masters’ appearance, noting the smooth black suit, red bow-tie, and silver buttons down the front. His long hair and short-cropped beard were grey-white, even though he knew he wasn’t much older than Bruce. His eyebrows were thick and dark, suggesting the lightening of his hair was purposeful, likely meant to convey a sense of wisdom that was often associated, however truthfully, with elders. He looked bored as he stood looking around the room; his eyes scanned the crowd with a jut of arrogance commonly seen at such events. Batman noticed he seemed top-heavy, so he was possibly active but didn’t train evenly, or he was naturally broad-shouldered. He didn’t wear any rings or jewelry, just a slim black watch that Batman could easily see was a smart-device.

While Batman was quietly surveying the man, the screen on said watch lit up with a small red light, which Masters immediately checked. Frowning, he cleared the notification and pulled out his phone. A few seconds later, his eyes widened, and Batman noted the man pale considerably and then quickly turn to leave.

Hm. That hadn’t been subtle.

Bruce nodded a few more times to the group in his immediate vicinity before politely excusing himself, giving a mini toast with his empty champagne glass to the company. He walked away, passing the glass to one of the various busmen carrying trays, keeping his gaze casually averted but keeping Masters within his line of sight. Bruce pretended to check his phone while he watched as the older man stop mid-stride to stare incredulously at his phone again. What caused Bruce to really zero in on the matter though was the way Masters’ eyes flickered red for just an instant before he stormed off towards one of the outer hallways. Masters’ eyes were a distinctive light blue; there was no way that could have been a mistake in the lighting. Bruce quickly sent a text to Tim, not knowing where exactly his son was at the moment.

               B

               Back in a sec. Keep an eye on the crowd

Tim

Something up?

               B

               Not sure.

Bruce slowly made his way to the outer edge of the crowd, walking leisurely as if he were admiring the architecture or the paintings on the wall. He saw Masters break the crowd and speed away to an outer area. Bruce calmly scanned the crowd as he started making his way in that direction. No one seemed to notice or care how the man had left in a hurry.

After a couple minutes, Bruce walked towards the hall Masters had disappeared down. Once the party’s noises had faded to a dull mumble and the hallway seemed empty, Bruce moved to stand within the shadows of the semi-lit hallway, moving noiselessly on the carpeted floors, allowing himself to fully switch mindsets to focus on the new task.

Batman kept his silent stalk of the wing until he heard a voice, and then slowly made his way in that direction until the words became more distinct.

“…behind. All of your friends, your dear sister—”

Masters cut off at whatever he had been saying. Bruce held his breath in case it had been his own presence Masters had felt, but then he heard him quietly cursing to himself. Batman peered around the corner to see Masters standing near a window, facing it but looking down at his phone held horizontally. He could see an earpiece that hadn’t been there before, which Master’s hand hovered over. Some of his hair had fallen from where it had been neatly tied back.

The man looked frustrated, he was sweating noticeably, typing into his phone as he listened to the earpiece. It was vexing that Batman didn’t have all of his usual devices on hand with to listen at this distance.

Masters stopped typing, swiping to a different view on the phone, and then smiled. It looked unkind from where he could see it reversed in the glass.

“Who’s going to stop me with you gone?”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. That was definitely a threat. His jaw tightened slightly. The entire tone of this conversation was setting off major red flags. Speaking of, Batman watched the window’s reflection to see if he could catch the red glow in his eyes once more.

“Daniel, if you don’t—” The man switched to a stern, authoritative tone before he stopped suddenly, clicking the earpiece once more. “That brat—”

Daniel, Batman mentally filed away. Younger, age unknown.

The man seemed to dial another number quickly, now pacing back and forth in front of the window. Batman could clearly see now his eyes glowing a muted red, sweat dripping down his brow with his hair plastered to his temple. Batman focused on keeping his form completely still, practically a shadow himself.

“Get me on the line with Dr. Anderson right this second. If you don’t have him on the phone in the next minute, you’re fired.” He spit out, rage obvious in every muscle as he paced, turned 180, and continued pacing.

Another name, good.

Only a few seconds passed before Masters spoke once more. “Anderson, there is a breach in my mansion’s security. I want it dealt with promptly. This is maximum priority. I want you on-site in less than 10.”

Masters paused his pacing, gripping the phone tightly and practically yelling into the receiver.

“No, you idiot, not the primary servers, the private ones! You are the only person with access to those, and it is your responsibility to keep them secure!”

Some poor tech guy was apparently having a bad day. Hacker of some kind, private servers, he kept filing. Something was going down.

“I want every available person at the mansion to head down to the lab now! Someone is down there!”

Masters’ phone buzzed and he checked it. “I will call you back but you better get this situation under control! What—what do you mean it’s spreading?”

Hm. Someone was physically in his basement?

The phone buzzed again and Masters cursed. “I want this fixed by the time I call back!”

Masters swiped at the phone, trying to take a deep breath to settle himself. He smoothed his hair back before answering.

“Hello, Agent,” his voice was laced with disdain, “Care to explain to me how you managed to let such a dangerous subject escape?”

Agent, he filed. Subject?

“Obviously I’m aware. The subject is at my residence currently, trying to destroy my lab. I doubt you’ll reach him in time, though.”

Alright, a someone who is also a subject seemed to have broken into (or out of) Masters’ mansion, which had a lab. VladCo specializes in biotechnology. Batman’s jaw was hurting from clenching so hard.

A memory of Ra’s Al Ghul’s mansion came back to him, the immortal man standing with his back to the Bat, remorsefully recounting the story of how he had brought back Bruce’s son without his permission. It was only Batman’s training that kept him from shuddering.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of negligence!” Masters snapped, pointing a finger in the air as he spoke, “this was not my fault. If anything—”

He stopped at the window again, staring out at the night sky angrily, his hands actually shaking now.

“They did what?”

Masters put a hand to his forehead, obviously stressed about whatever news he just received.

“Just deal with it. My head of technology is currently dealing with the data breaches. You are not to enter the premises under any circumstances, do you understand me? My men on site have orders to keep you away. If you disobey me, I will cut the funding entirely, and my entire legal team will be on your case, do I make myself clear? I have delicate experiments going on—”

Funded operatives, independent organization. Experiments. Batman was confident now his suspicions had been well-founded.

The phone buzzed again, and Masters checked it. He paled again, looking at the device in clear shock.

“I need to call you back.”

He hung up, dialing again, eyes bulging at the screen.

“Anderson! What the hell is happening there?”

He was breathing heavily now.

Masters didn’t respond immediately. He seemed to have gone rigid.

“I’m on my way. Do what you can.”

He flicked the earpiece, now yelling in frustration and shoving the phone in his pocket. Bruce saw in the reflection his eyes blaze red-hot for a second. “Those stupid meddling kids, I’ll have their necks for this!” He turned on his heel and stormed off in the direction away from the party. Batman stood quietly, thinking. He could continue to follow Masters, but he doubted he’d be able to catch much more useful information.

There was already a lot of information to process. And a lot more information to collect, too, it seemed.

There were kids involved.

He began to retreat, pulling out his phone to text Red Robin. They had some work to do.

◇◆◇

The gears floating around the lair of Time churned slowly, continuously, with a heave that suggested they pulled some great weight even though they weren’t attached to anything (visibly, at least). Danny was filled with a sense of dread as he approached the building. He made his way to the top of the tower, feeling the ectoplasmic atmosphere change around him as he got closer. Many ghost’s territories had a feel to them, marked unconsciously by the ghosts themselves. The aura of the Ancient of Time, however, was dense—much, much stronger than a typical ghost. It felt like moving through a great number of things all at once. It made him feel kind of self-conscious, even though Danny had been here many times before.

Danny let his legs rematerialize as he landed outside the double doors. He looked back to where the single Observant had followed him, likely to be able to report a confirmed visit to the others. Danny gave the cyclops ghost a slight nod of acknowledgement, and the ghost turned to return on his own.

Danny sighed, looking back up at the double doors. If I left now, it would annoy both him and the Observant. He thought about it, wondering if the humor would be worth the lost time, but decided against it. He wanted to know what was going on.

He pushed one of the doors open, stepping inside and letting the heavy frame thud as it closed. It was dim inside. Arches of mechanical gears and metal piping ran along the ceiling. Danny saw a familiar purple cape across the room, staring into a window shaped like a magnifying glass. Danny gripped his arms together, frowning at the ghost who he knew could sense his presence. He began shuffling closer.

“Danny.” The Ancient greeted without turning.

He sneered. “Clocky.”

Clockwork didn't argue with the childish nickname, instead shimmering into his child form and turning to look at Danny. He had an overbite and looked ridiculous. Danny glared down at him.

“Care to explain why the fuck you're dogging me?”

“We needed to talk,” the child-form ghost said before flickering into an old man, who's beard reached further than his feet. Clockwork absently stroked it.

“Yeah, no shit.” Danny looked away, laughing bitterly. “Y'know, if you had wanted to talk so badly, you could have intervened, say, six months ago.” When he looked back at Clockwork, there were unshed tears standing in his eyes. You let me suffer. He felt no comfort in looking at his mentor. Weren’t mentors supposed to guide? To help?

The old ghost, truly old, much older than even the wrinkled form in front of him, looked at him solemnly.

“I am sorry, Danny. You know that it is my duty to remain objective—"

Danny stepped into his space, shoving him back harshly. Clockwork didn't try to fight it, but neither did he break eye contact. Danny tried to muster all of the hatred he felt for the GIW and channel it at Clockwork. He could have stopped it, even if no one else could have. But he didn’t.

“That's bullshit and you know it. Objective my ass. You've helped me before. And I know that you know what they did to me.” Danny hated that he could feel himself trembling, his mouth quivering as he tried to maintain a tough expression.

Danny's voice had taken on a darker, deeper note that he knew did not bode well for the other ghosts’ opinions of him. He knew they were all terrified of what he might become, or could have become, at another time. But the other ghosts weren’t here. Only his dear, dear mentor, who had abandoned him to a half year of torture. Danny’s tears started falling despite his best efforts.

“I do know, and I am deeply sorry for the pain you have endured, Danny.” He shimmered into a slightly younger man, though still much older than Danny. There was white at the edges of his dark beard, which was shorter.

Danny kept glaring. That’s not enough.

“I looked through the timelines and found that in every one, you found a way to free yourself. You have always been exceptionally resourceful. Resourceful, and compassionate.”

“Compassionate?” Danny asked, caught off guard. “I didn't show them any compassion. I hated them.”

Clockwork only looked at him with red eyes, intent, but unphased by Danny’s behavior.

“You spared the guard you overshadowed in which to escape. You left him unconscious, but unharmed, despite his soulless treatment towards you.”

Soulless. What ghosts considered more profound than the idea of dehumanization. They were not humans after all, but they did have souls. Danny wasn't human, not fully, not anymore. More than half of him had died that day, it felt like sometimes. Why is Clockwork talking in riddles like he has something to prove. What’s he getting at?

“Doesn't matter.” Danny dismissed “What I want to know is how you could be so soulless.” He jabbed a finger rudely at the ghost’s chest, who only responded by shimmering into another his elder form again.

“Danny. Do you know what would have happened if I intervened?” His calm voice was infuriating.

Danny hesitated, not sure if he wanted to take the bait. He wasn't sure he cared what excuse Clockwork had for him.

Clockwork continued anyways. “The Ghost Investigation Ward would have abandoned their interests in ghost abnormalities, such as yourself, and turned their attention to more powerful ghosts. The existence of Ancients in the Infinite Realms is rare knowledge in the human plane. One that they, in all their arrogance, would have sought to dominate.”

“I would have protected the Realms.” Danny replied instantly.

Hm—Infinite Realms, yeah that’s way better than Ghost Dimension by a long shot. It sounded familiar, too, but Danny wasn’t sure where he’d heard it before.

“You alone could not have prevented the war it would have started.”

Danny balked. “War?”

“Yes. Their obsession, combined with that of your former guardians,” Danny wasn’t surprised he knew they had disowned the Fentons, “would have brought chaos to both planes. They would have redesigned the portals over time in an attempt to conquer us. A foolish and failing attempt, to be sure, but an attempt nonetheless. And with their world at stake, the ghosts of the Realms would have defended themselves mercilessly.”

“What's wrong with that?” Danny countered. “We should be able to defend ourselves. That sounds like genocide.” He hated glaring up at Clockwork. He wished he’d revert back to his child form, so Danny could feel tall. He wanted to be right about this—even if it was a futile hope. He had never won an argument with Clockwork before.

“Nothing wrong with it, especially knowing they would have failed. The Realms are truly Infinite, Danny. Regardless of that fact, though, they would have been quickly overrun.” Danny went to object—then why—? "but not before the deaths and slaughter of thousands of humans and ghosts. Many, many souls would have faded into nothingness.”

A chill crawled up Danny's spine, taking in the words.  

“So, what, I'm like ghost Jesus or something, I had to be sacrificed for the good of all?” He wanted to laugh at it, but he couldn’t. He clenched his fists—ice began to crawl up his arms. He should probably learn to control that (although, it wasn’t like he was the only one who did that, he thought, recalling Ember’s flare of anger and her sizzling hair). “That sounds like a load of bull. For someone so resourceful such as myself, I'm sure we could have come up with something. If, you know, you had talked to me, instead of letting me live through that hell.”

He really, really wanted to stay mad. The logical part of his brain knew it was stupid, but he didn’t care. He was angry.

Clockwork shimmered into a child form, maybe ten or so, but his voice of course remained the same. Danny was too shaken to take advantage of the change.

“I know there is little that will change your opinion of this, Danny Phantom, and I do not hold that against you.”

“Then why the fuck are we talking. I'm busy.”

Clockwork changed into his young adult form again, beardless face smooth. His red eyes gleamed with a knowledge beyond Danny's understanding, or even comprehension. The amount of knowledge guarded by a single soul—the idea of it was terrifying.

Danny maintained eye contact with the Ancient of Time.

“It is my duty as your mentor—,” Danny scoffed, but Clockwork continued, “and Ancient, to make you aware of certain developments.”

Danny backed off, shoving his hands into his front pocket to glare away from the ghost. “Can you please get to the point already.”

“You defeated Pariah Dark, the former Ghost King, in single combat.”

Danny blinked. “Yeah? We've known that?” Something in Clockwork’s words or tone bothered him. “So what.”

“In defeating him, you have by all laws also won the title and the right to rule.”

A beat passed. Danny felt his stomach drop. Clockwork’s expression didn't change. Danny stumbled away from the ghost, trying to process that.

“What?”

Danny cinched the cords of his hoodie tighter. He wanted to disappear. I shouldn’t have come here. Clockwork waited for him to come to terms with the information. Danny only stared back, trying to think of anything else he could have misheard that to mean.

“Rule?”

“Yes. It is now your right by title.”

“Whoa now— Whoa-whoa-whoa, do you mean as in the title of the motherfucking Ghost King?”

Clockwork smirked, only barely, at his exclamation. He shimmered into a slightly younger form, not a child though, maybe only a few years older than Danny. He was shorter so that he was now eye level with Danny, calmly looking through him with red, pupilless eyes.  

“I can't be the Ghost King! No way! What do you mean? I—No, I refuse, no. What's, that—” Danny backed away more, feeling his chest start to hurt more with every thought that raced by.

He looked to the table by the furthest wall, where Clockwork kept his handful of possessions. The empty thermos which had once housed one of his worst nightmares still sat there unobtrusively. It had once contained all of Danny's fears and weaknesses, the knowledge of what Danny would become given too much power.

“You will not become Dan Phantom, tyrant and conqueror. You ensured those timelines were nullified when you slew him 20 years from now, in another timeline. Those possibilities are no more.” Clockwork rested both hands on his staff, looking thoughtful, as he flickered back into his elder form. Not at all like he had just dropped the most ground-breaking news Danny had ever received in his life.

Danny felt his chest heaving now, tightening—his hands felt cold. Danny tried to convince himself it was just his core reacting.

“Are you kidding me? Seriously? King of the Infinite Realms? I can't do that, I’m a fucking teenager Clockwork—it's too much, it's too much—"

“Too much power?” the Ancient Soul pressed on ruthlessly. “You already possess that power, Danny. The Infinite Realms passed that power to you the moment you imprisoned Pariah Dark.”

“Too much responsibility,” Danny bit out, glaring. “I'm not even a full ghost! I'm not even here all the time! I'm—I'm trying to get home, to get back!”

Clockwork changed so that he was only slightly older than the previous form, smiled sympathetically. His eyes though were still honed in on Danny like a target with a goal to complete.

“Odd choice of concerns, for a young half-ghost who has already proclaimed to the intent to protect all of the Realms and the human world alike, if needed.”

“That was hypothetical.”

“Was it?”

Clockwork shimmered into a child again.

Danny threw his hands in the air. “I said if the GIW had tried to start a war, I would have protected the Realms. What, you think I would just let an interdimensional war happen because—because of me?” Danny felt himself crying again. His ghostly tears were always cold—freezing cold. He had never fully gotten over the guilt from turning on the portal, from allowing Amity to become so haunted, for giving the GIW something to hunt.

“Exactly. Is that not the kind of responsibility a wise and good King would take?”

Danny glared down at him, growling. “Well that didn't happen, now did it. I refuse, Clockwork. Give it to someone else, I don't care.”

“The choice is not mine to make. The Realms themself choose who inherits the power. In a plane of infinite power and infinite existence, there must be strict rules to govern said beings.”

Themself? Like, a person?

“I said no.”

Clockwork sighed. He changed his age to a middle-aged man with a mid-length beard. Danny wondered if the changes in his appearance were conscious or subconscious, or even if his powers were completely random, which seemed unlikely. “You are young, Danny. You do not understand, and that is no fault of yours.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” Danny countered harshly.

“Then don’t argue like one,” he replied simply.

Danny felt his cheeks darken. Either in anger or embarrassment or both.

Clockwork held out his hand palm up and focused on the space for a minute. A small portal opened in his hand, a dark swirling green void, as a black spiked crown floated up to hover in the space, twirling slowly. Danny stared at the sharp prongs, remembering when they were bathed in unnatural green fire, burning with hatred of him and the world. Danny shook his head. Without any command or movement from Clockwork though, the crown began to float towards Danny. He backed away, feeling ice crawl up his arms like a shield—like armor. He was crying openly now.

“No!”

In a fit of desperation, he grabbed the crown before it could float closer to him, throwing it as far as he could. Even in anti-gravity it felt heavy and did not go far. The crown spun away before stopping mid-air just before hitting the ground before slowly leveling out and began floating back to Danny. Danny sobbed. This can’t be happening, I’m going to become him—

“You have no need to be afraid, Danny.” Clockwork tried again. “If it calms your worries, you would not be expected to take the full duties of King until you have become a full ghost. You don't have to fear this.” The crown inched closer. Clockwork shimmered to look younger. “Trust me when I say it will not harm you, it will not change you, or control you.” The crown began rising from the ground and Danny watched as it ominously inched closer before rising past his face, and Danny’s breathing became quicker.  Sure, like I can trust you and all your wackadoodle logic.

It rose higher. When it settled over his head, it felt like— like that energizing wave of power that rushed over him when passing through the portals. He gasped as it settled, still just floating rather resting on his head, but he could feel it all the same—almost like it was fused to his aura rather than being a physical object. Danny reached up hesitantly to feel it—it was cold.

“Beautiful.” Clockwork murmured admiringly. Danny blinked at him, still breathing unevenly. “The crown of an ice core ghost,” Clockwork explained. “The crown adapted to you as it felt your presence. It has not felt a new King in a very long time.”

Danny, out of curiosity of whether it would work, tried to grab the crown to remove it. It moved easily. He held it in front of him, since it didn’t seem to hurt. I don’t know why it would hurt, but I don’t trust this. It was very pretty, Danny agreed regrettably. It looked to be made of intricately carved ice—normal ice, not the weird black obsidian it was before.  A cloud of ectoplasmic fog floated around it. When he turned it, it glinted with a green light. He would have thought it made of a white-blue gemstone if not for the cold touch and the mist.

He looked back at Clockwork, feeling unsure.

“The decision was unprecedented of course, but the other Ancients and I have decided that while we ruled during Pariah’s slumber, we are yet able to rule now, until you take the mantle.”

“You mean until I die again.” Danny couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Yes.”

“I don't want it.”

“So you have said.”

Danny glared again. The shock of it all had stopped his tears momentarily, but he was starting to feel that panic creep back in. He didn’t feel different—for now. Who knew if it would start to corrupt him?

“Can't I crown someone else?”

“No.”

Danny started shaking. This was too much, too much, he slinked to the ground, going partially immaterial so only his upper body remained. Letting go of the crown, it casually floated back up to his head (stupid thing). He clutched the scribble hoodie, burying his head into his arms as he wept. The thought of never being able to stop—to rest—gah, would he ever be able to just live in peace? The idea of outliving all of his friends suddenly came to him, while he sat alone, on a hard-backed throne, watching over the Dead for all eternity—Danny sobbed harder, curling up into a ball.

He felt Clockwork float to him, resting a hand on his back in the barest of solaces. It was—it was too overwhelming. Clockwork didn’t understand. It made him just want to leave, to go find somewhere to go and sleep. He didn't want to have to look over the well-being of every soul in two fucking dimensions. He didn't want that responsibility. He was going to have to contend with the GIW too, if they kept trying to make assaults to the Realms. The idea of having to face the GIW again and the Fentons, the humiliation of losing again—Danny was gasping for air as he started hyperventilating. Which is stupid, I don’t even need air—his body didn’t care about logic or physics in that moment, though. Clockwork did keep a hand on his back, but didn't offer any other comforts either, only waiting.

Fuck-fuck-fuck. Time didn’t exist here, less so, maybe, than anywhere else in the Dimension—the Realms—fuck, I’m the King of the Infinite Realms—shit—“Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” Danny’s voice wavered as he spoke, he shoved his palms against his eyes. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” He idly wondered if a Kingly signature would throw the GIW off his ecto-signature or not. Or would it make it stronger? Will they be able to find me easier? “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9.” Danny pulled at his hair. Clockwork minutely rubbed at his back. I wish Sam and Tucker were here.

Slowly, Danny eventually felt the panic subside, drawing in deeper breaths. He started trying to go through his exercises. “Gamma alpha upsilon,” inhale, “tau iota mu epsilon,” exhale, “42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” he finished, not caring if Clockwork heard. The ghost had probably heard Danny recite the code hundreds of times by now. This was going to be so much to explain to the others.

Picking his head up, he looked at Clockwork again as an idea struck him.

“If I've had this title since I defeated Pariah Dark, why didn't you give it to me before? You said it was mine by right, didn't you?” Could I have defeated the GIW if I had been stronger? Or summoned a ghost army? No, that would have been a bad idea—

“Yes. But it did take time for the Council to decide how to respond to the Crown’s demands. Many ghosts think it illogical that a half-ghost child could be King at all, regardless of the combat component.”

Danny sighed. Ghosts and their perpetual existences, never needing to worry about the effects of time in any of their duties. He wondered if any of the Ancients even realized what six months of consideration had caused him. It was really, really annoying. Danny had half a life to live, after all. Something like this might have been useful a few months ago, if he was going to be stuck with it anyways. Or literally any time since then.

The next thought that came to him made him gasp in fear, frantically looking to where the ghost still floated next to him (Clockwork never seemed to touch the ground the same way most ghosts did out of habit).

“Does that mean I'm not allowed to leave? If I have to rule here, I mean?”

“Of course not. You are the King, even if you do not fully assume all the conditions of that role, yet. You are the King, Danny Phantom.” Clockwork emphasized the title heavily. “That means no being in the Infinite Realms has power over you.”

“Except you,” he countered.

Clockwork shimmered into an adolescent, though he didn’t look anything like Danny at a similar age.

“Untrue.”

Danny laughed bitterly. “So, what, I could kick you out?”

“You could,” he said smoothly.

Danny furrowed his brow.

“You could choose another being to serve as the Ancient of Time. You may dictate whoever you wish to take the mantle of any position, so long as they are a subject of the Realms.”

“So…” Danny was thinking fast. He could replace the Council that didn’t like him, then? That seemed manipulative though. Wouldn’t that mean more ghosts would try and lie to him to win his favor? Is that why the other ghosts were so nice to me? That idea left a sour taste in his mouth. “What's stopping me from demoting you now?” He was still annoyed after all.

“Nothing, although I know that you will not.” He shifted into an adult once more.

Ancients, arguing with an Ancient was annoying. Danny was tempted to do it out of spite.

“Partially because you do not know how,” Clockwork continued. “I would show you how, if you commanded it. You would temporarily have to take the mantle onto yourself, though, before passing it to another. I have a feeling you would not wish that.”

Danny flinched. He didn't want to see infinite futures, no. Plus, Clockwork was the only Ancient (that he knew of for now, at least) that still supported Danny fully. Or appeared to. Clockwork had argued in his defense when the other Ancients wanted to neutralize Danny preemptively so he could not become the corruption that was Dan Phantom.

The memory of Batman’s throat being torn open and crushed by ghostly blue claws, his gurgling body dropping limply to the floor while they others stared in horror, Dan grinning and flexing the bloodied hand with a laugh, came back to him again. Danny remembered the faces of the other Bats, at least those he could see, all horrified, before they had all scattered to try and re-group. The battle tactics had kind of fallen apart by that point, with Dan taunting all of them as he kicked Bruce’s limp body. Danny remembered going intangible, running away, before he had remembered that this was all supposed to be his fight—

Danny shut his eyes and resumed his breathing exercises. He knew the other ghosts thought it was silly, to pretend to be breathing when he didn't need it, but it helped him.

This sucked.

He sighed bitterly, moping slightly as he thought over all the new information. He hated that Clockwork could know every possible decision he would make. He also knew he didn't really hate his mentor, though. Just resented him from time to time.

“What do the rest of the Ancients think of this? They still hate me, don't they?”

“Hate is a strong word. They know that you have the potential to be very strong and do great things. They fear the potential of another Pariah Dark, one not sealed away. I know this to be an impossibility, now that you have done the task I set for you. But after a Demon-King on the throne for thousands of years, they fear many things. Dark was a tyrant in every sense of the word who did egregious things. The King’s command over the Council themselves is absolute. He ordered many of them to heinous acts, which they could not refuse.” He flickered into his elder form. “The most difficult part of this journey for you, Danny Phantom, will be learning the many ways of our dimension as well as you have learned your own. You are a being of the Realms, even if your soul is divided between it for now. This will change with time, and you will continue to grow and learn.”

“The Council didn't have an issue with a halfa being named King?”

“Oh, some of them did, surely. Many of them hold grudges against the Crown itself. But we cannot argue with the Crown or the Ring. They choose the ghost, not the other way around. You could not give away the crown if you wanted to, for the Crown would refuse a new bearer unless you were defeated in ritual combat.”

Danny frowned. “So I only won it because I fought Pariah and won?”

“Yes, in a one on one duel, to be specific. The battle must be in single combat between the Crown Bearer and the contestant. By challenging you, Pariah unwittingly also made you an unwilling contestant to fight for the title of King. He did not know this, though, nor did it ever occur to him that he could lose.” Clockwork’s features turned boyish again, with that unnervingly serious expression remaining.

“How does that even count? I didn’t win that fight, I just sealed him back in the Sarcophagus.”

“The rules of the challenge do not dictate that the King must fade, only that he must be defeated. You defeated him by effectively preventing him from continuing the challenge; the Crown sees this as a victory.”

“Does that mean if he’s released the challenge will be continued? Can be become King again?” Danny suddenly worried whether the Sarcophagus was secure right now. He was still very weak, at the moment, and Pariah had already been released once.

“No, the challenge ended when the Crown decided you were the victor.”

“Okay… hold on, so does this mean everyone in the Realms is going to try to fight me now?” Danny slumped in reluctance, already guessing that to be the case. He thought being here instead of in the real-world would mean everyone wouldn’t be trying to hunt him down and kill him. That doesn’t make much sense though, so far everyone has avoided me or just been friendly.

“You will be obligated to battle some contestants, yes. You must accept to fight any challenger who wishes to battle for the Crown. But, few will. Your power is feared, Danny. It is near-incomprehensible to us ghosts—you are unique in many ways. Plus, as you become acquainted with the powers of kingship, this will only grow.”

“Wait, I get more powers?” Danny thought of his many, many blunders he made when his ghost powers first started showing. How vulnerable it had left him. He couldn’t really afford to be vulnerable right now.

Clockwork tipped his head slightly. “In a way. The Ring bestows certain abilities to you. The Crown strengthens the abilities you already have.”

Danny's eyebrows shot up. Damn. Super-powered superpowers. That’s kinda cool.

Clockwork smiled, blinking into a young adult. “You see, the title of King will also give you more strength to defend all that you wish to protect. You will be a foe not easily overcome.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, realizing he was referring to the GIW again. “They have my ectoplasm. They can make their weapons unique to my energy. The almost killed me, and I was supposedly King then, too.”

“You were not in possession of the Ring and Crown, which must be awarded before you could fully come into that inheritance. It would take significant effort on their part to fell you again. And even then,” he smirked, and Danny didn’t like the tone in his voice, “You would simply rise again as Ghost King in full. The timelines of your futures show immense power in all of them.”

Danny swallowed again, looking down. So, if he died, he would be a really powerful ghost. Cool. I don’t want to die yet.

Geez this was a lot.

“...Ok. So, I need king training, is what you’re getting at.”

“Yes. It doesn't all have to be now, of course. Pandora has already agreed to take over your formal combat training.”

“Wait, why do I need training to fight? I've already been doing that.”

“It never hurts to hone those skills, though. You have largely been self-taught, which is impressive. Think how much you could improve with training and time.”

Danny hummed. He wiped his face with the sleeve of the hoodie, feeling the semi-dried tears. Ok, this doesn’t sound that bad. I love Pandora. It’d be nice to see her more.

“What about other training? Or is it just ghost fighting?”

“Dorathea has agreed to train you in the formalities of royalty, if you will consent to have her as a tutor. Frostbite would like to remain your mentor for magic.” Clockwork aged to where he had a beard again. “You've already shown potential for many kinds of elemental abilities, but you have only achieved mastery of ice.”

“Geez, everyone knows about this already, huh?”

“The leaders of the various regions of the Realms do. Some of your friends, as well, or so I’ve heard.” Does he mean Ember and the others? The idea that they were only friendly with him now since he was King kind of made him feel worse. It had felt…more genuine than that. It hurt, but no worse than a lot of other things hurt.

Clockwork seemed to know what Danny was thinking, even if that wasn’t technically one of his powers. Hella insight, more like.

“Your friends are not your friends because of your new title, Danny. Your ‘rogues’ as you call them have considered you a friend for much longer.” He shifted to a very young child again. It always bothered Danny the most—how untrue of a form it was for the literally ancient ghost to take.

Danny raised a brow. “Seriously? They tried to kill me, like, all the time. And I always kicked their butts. I’m surprised they tolerated me this much, honestly.” He remembered how he felt when Ember kept hugging him though, the other’s teasing and smiles. It hadn’t felt like a trick.

“Not kill, no. Ghosts brawl by nature. This is one of the things I was referring to when I mentioned training.”

Danny stared at him, feeling kind of dumb. “Brawl, fight, what’s the difference?”

Clockwork didn’t externally show any sign of irritation, but Danny still felt embarrassed. “Ghosts are beings that live near-infinite lives, or have the potential to do so, at least. Some fade when their souls have reached peace, or their core can no longer be sated by it’s obsession. But brawling is natural to us. It allows us to feel present. To feel real. We exist, and we desire to express that.” Clockwork shimmered into an adult once more. “You may think of it as, ‘hanging out,’ in human terms.” He went as far as to make finger quotes in the air for Danny’s benefit. The straight-laced voice though had Danny doubling over sharply with laughter. Geez, this guy is so old. Like Lancer but worse.

“Ok, ok, whatever—so ghosts fight for fun.”

“Brawl.”

Danny looked exasperated.

“Ghosts brawl for fun. We fight to defend. They are different.”

Danny rolled his eyes. Semantics. “Fine. So… Combat training, king training, magic training. Any other homework?”

Clockwork smiled, seeming pleased with Danny’s acceptance. “Not for now.”

“So, I’m gonna be like, the avatar of ghost powers?”

“If you would like to think of it as such.”

“And I'm still allowed to go back whenever I wish?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re—you’re sure it won’t—” Danny was almost afraid to say it. “Turn me evil?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He shimmered to an old man, and began to stroke the long white beard again.

Danny nodded. “Alright. So I just need to find a portal to use and then I can go back and forth whenever I want?”

Clockwork smirked before turning away to rise and float back over to the magnifying glass now that Danny’s crisis had passed. “Incidentally, that is the reason I chose now to speak with you. The power the Ring bestows is the ability to create your own portals. As King, you may travel wherever you wish throughout the Realms and move freely between here and the material plane.”

Danny's eyes widened. “I can make portals?” That would have been fucking useful. 

“Once you accept the Ring in the presence of the Council, yes. It is a great power, but one that I know you will use wisely.”

Tucker and Sam would laugh if they knew an Ancient being of the cosmos called Danny wise. Wisdom was not something Danny was known for.

Danny laughed, feeling a tad light-headed. This is a lot— “Way to really sell the whole Sauron gig, Clocky. I thought the goal was for me to not go all power-and-dominion?”

“Power and evil are not the same thing. The Ring will corrupt you no more than the Crown did,” Clockwork pointed out, still focused on the seeing-mirror. He changed again to a younger man.

“Isn’t it a Ring of Rage?” Danny asked, feeling nervous about the idea. “Sounds like the kind of thing that would corrupt a guy.”

“The Ring is simply the Ring. Like the Crown, it takes on the identity of the King. It was a Ring of Rage for Pariah Dark. We do not know yet what it will take on for you.”

“You mean I don’t know, or the other ghosts don’t know. I know you know.”

Clockwork didn’t respond. Only his purple cowl swayed with the flow of ambient ectoplasm which was infused universally in the Realms.

“Ok, fine, keep your secrets.” Danny huffed and flew up to float with his feet in the air, leaning back. He could really use that nap about now. “So when do I get to meet the Council?” Yep, I am practically an expert at post-panic bounce back. I am totally not freaking out right now.  

“Whenever you choose to do so. Like I said, you’re the King now. Many things will be left to your decision.”

“Can we do it, like, soon? Cause, I have some protein bars but, I’d prefer to save those.”

“If you wish,” Clockwork said with only the barest hints of humor in his dry voice.

Chapter Text

Antarctica was probably one of Danny’s favorite places to get away for a while. He could never spend too long here, which was unfortunate given how peaceful and serene it was. The night sky was gorgeous, and visible for much longer than a typical night during the winter months. And the constellations were crisp as fuck. Danny liked to lean back, nestled in the soft snow or float aimlessly in the wind, and just stare for days. It also meant he got to watch the southern lights, which were by far one of the coolest things he’d seen since being on the run. Unfortunately, he could never stay for too long before the GIW would show up shooting, and he’d be forced to retreat back to the Realms.

Settling in as Ghost King of the Infinite Realms had been a lot less stressful than he’d initially expected. He did periodically meet with Clockwork and the Ancients to review their developments, mostly undoing a lot of the BS that Dark had in place, but nothing had been dire, so far. Most of it was the type of thing they knew better of, and as long as he understood their reasoning, he left it to their judgement. His training had been a long and gradual process, but he was slowly starting to feel better about the whole thing. The GIW, even with the Fenton’s help, hadn’t fully been able to replicate the success of the original Ghost Portal. So, bouncing back and forth the planes had been an easy way to shake them whenever they got to close.

Danny discovered he actually liked travelling a lot—he just found it hard to stay in one place for too long. Antarctica was sadly, one of the worst places for him to spend any amount of time in, since there wasn’t any ambient ectoplasm to obscure his signature. Which, of course, had also spiked immensely since becoming King. Made him way to easy to track, but especially when out in the open.

He had tried Canada for a while, finding frigid temperatures soothing, but he always ended up too homesick. All of his friends, both human and ghost, were from America. So, despite the literal government hating his guts, that was mostly where he stayed. He had been raised in a fairly sheltered, mid-western town though, not even really having been to many big cities, so there was a lot to explore around the US. Visiting Chicago was always great since he could see Jazz—but he made sure to never stay more than a couple days, since he really didn’t want the GIW to connect the girl from the former ghost-hunting family to the spikes in ecto-energy levels. Jazz was excelling now that she had gotten away from home for a while. She was smart, ambitious, and confident—and was actually close to finishing her Bachelor’s now, too. Danny knew she was already looking for graduate programs to apply to.

Both Sam and Tucker had moved to different colleges when they finished high school. Danny had helped with their moves, and it had been fun to reconnect all in one place before going their separate ways. Danny remembered feeling bittersweet about the whole thing—happy for his friends, but part of him longed to join them at the same time. He wasn’t jealous, he just, would have liked to do something similar. He had abandoned the idea of a normal life a long time ago, though. Tucker had gone to some big-shot tech school, of course, majoring in computer science. No one had been surprised, but Danny was still proud of him for it. Sam had gone to a place on the east coast, doing a triple fucking major—because of course she couldn’t just be normal. Danny and Tuck had made fun of her for it, of course, saying how she was finally joining the nerd club, but she had laughed cause, Of course I’m a nerd, I hang with you two. 

Turns out one could fathomably do political science, art, and business all in one go. Her parents had been fine paying for whatever majors she wanted to pursue as long as she did something business related as well. But business was relatively easy for her and political science had been a breeze to pick up, so she was focusing mostly on the art stuff for now. She was really a make-a-statement with it kinda person. Danny admired it. Danny was also pretty sure she was only doing political science because she wanted to fight the anti-ecto acts. He had told her to just focus on herself, since it wasn’t like there were many half-ghosts out there to advocate for, but she had stubbornly refused to drop it.

He periodically sat in on university lectures, at first just curious what they were like, but then later because he actually found he enjoyed them. Turns out learning wasn’t excruciating when it was a cool subject and you didn’t have to constantly fight off bullies and rogues all day. But he never stayed in a city more than a couple weeks—definitely not long enough to finish a semester. He had taken Jazz’s advice, of course, and finished his own schooling a few years prior, but he had also found a surprising (or perhaps, unsurprising, depending on how you looked at it) interest in the anti-authoritarian movement. Sam had been downright giddy when he had asked her about her reasonings for the different activist groups she supported, and they had spent a night together chatting about overthrowing the government (only slightly joking) and dyeing his hair. They had completely revamped his personal style, which had kind of reminded him of the time she almost had Tucker going goth, but more genuine. It felt… like it was actually him. His own expression. He had actually opted to keep most of it black, since it was such a pain to bleach, but now had a long streak of bright red down one side. Red had always been a color he liked, and it felt good to do something new with his appearance. Plus, they had done some experimenting and found a shade that inverted into a nice, bright green when he transformed, which made his ghost-half look badass. Something weird like orange would have never worked with his color scheme.

The few times he had tried to linger around a nicer city, finding odd-jobs and just mingling with the locals, it had always ended badly. Even in his human form, since Danny rarely transformed outside of the Realms now, the GIW would inevitably show up. Their weapons were improving—that much was obvious. They became more precise, being able to target his signature. They became longer-ranged, too. They had sniped him on a couple of occasions, which had incited panic when he was in public, but Danny would just turn invisible and fly off. No need to get anyone else hurt. He was pretty sure their ghostly weapons couldn’t seriously hurt humans, but it wasn’t the type of thing worth risking. He really hated they would put other people in harm’s way though. Their one-off shots were progressively getting harder to handle though—and they rarely got more than one in (Danny was pretty used to acting quickly, after all), but they were worse than they used to be, hurting more and harder to heal from.

He just did his best to stay away from crowds and mosey along by himself. It was fine, he’d bring Cujo over from the Realms when he really got lonely. It was fine.

It was nice having the complete freedom to just go and explore. Not quite as cool as being an astronaut would have been, but still. Sometimes him and the open sky was enough to ignore the pangs of regret he felt when he saw a happy group of friends hanging together, or a cute couple enjoying a date, or a texted picture from his best friends being able to meet up (without him) with a measly “we miss you!” Not that they didn’t mean it well, it was just never enough. 

Oregon was a pretty cool state, and the temperatures there suited him nicely. Danny had also been to California several times now. It could get fairly warm, but he liked the cliffs over the beaches and how progressive everyone was. There was almost no anti-meta discrimination, although people still looked at him badly for being a rough-looking punk on the streets. He would just flash a grin at their scowls and nod to indicate they could just keep walking. Seriously, it wasn’t like he was a menace or anything.  Last night he had found a small strip-mall style plaza by the edge of a town that overlooked the sea. Bougie, but still nice, so he had decided to sleep towards the back by some benches for their staff. He always made sure to wake earlier than employees would arrive though, just to avoid trouble. One nice thing about being a homeless halfa with an ice core was he wasn’t affected by the cold, so finding shelter really just meant finding somewhere horizontal he could stay for a while. Of course, he could always go back to the Realms too, whenever he wanted—but portals were a bitch. They worked too well—the energy the Ring put out would have the GIW at his location within an hour wherever he returned. Meaning he would have to move fast once he had portalled over, and honestly? It wasn’t usually worth the trouble.

Danny was hanging in one of the plaza alleys, watching the sunrise. It was a nice area, even though it was expensive. Guess the view made up for it. He had his Foley phone out, casually chatting with the group chat, since he was in an earlier time zone than the other two. They had one that included Jazz, obviously, but him, Sam, and Tucker kept one for themselves. They hadn’t all hung together in almost a year now. It made him feel nostalgic. Danny pushed himself off the wall to pull the old scribble hoodie off, uncaring for the brisk morning breeze, and pulling out his other jacket before shoving the hoodie into his backpack. It was comfortable to sleep in, but he didn’t wear it everywhere like he used to. Especially since he had started wearing jean vests with spikes on the shoulders—couldn’t risk tearing the fabric. He checked the phone again and laughed at the memes they were swapping about their annoying classmates with midterms approaching. That was one thing he definitely did not miss about school—exams. He looped his arms into the vest and it settled it over his shoulders. It was a faded black-grey and covered in hand-sewn patches.

On his right arm was a purple anarchy “A”, a gift from Sam. Down the front on the left side was a bunch of ones and zeros in bright green sewn letters, spelling out “dead” in binary. It was going say “dead inside” to be like, the biggest inside joke ever (between him, the ghosts, and Tucker of course), but had realized too late he didn’t have nearly enough room. So Dead it was. The back had some fun art patches, since he liked to trade with other people he met on the streets, most being either sci-fi references or anti-authoritarian (although he still couldn’t believe ‘save the bees’ was considered an extremist view—but hey, bee patch). He had also sewn some purple and blue flames at the bottom, since Ember had been such a fan of the new look. He had a small one on the collar that was a trans flag, because fuck bigots. The entire thing was speckled with sterling silver studs and of course, the shoulder spikes (hehe pokey). They matched the earrings Sam had gotten him for his birthday.

He paused to take a quick picture of the sunrise to send to the chat and pocketed the phone to head inside the small café he found yesterday. They were the type of small business that kept free meals available in a pass-it-forward system for anyone in need. He loved it and wanted to support the idea.

Walking up to the counter, he smiled at a small blonde lady with a bob. He ordered a latte and a bagel along with one of their meal-tickets for someone else to use before paying in cash and heading over to a small table by a window. The sun had fully risen over the horizon, casting pastel shadows across the sky in a soft kind of way. He leaned back in the chair, tipping it slightly, and letting his head fall backwards. He felt his hair fall from his shoulders—it had definitely grown out quite a bit from when he was younger, but he liked it. Actually, it had been seeing pictures of Nightwing that really inspired him to try it. He had been worried for so long that long hair would look too feminine—but Nightwing pulled it off and it looked great, and Nightwing was definitely very masculine.

Hm, Danny thought, brow furrowing, haven’t heard much news about Gotham recently. Maybe I should go check in on the city.

Just then his order was called, and he smiled as he hopped up to grab it. Sweet, sweet coffee. He pulled out a reusable straw from one of his front pockets and stirred it happily, enjoying the tinkling sound of the ice. He barely had time to take the first sip, moving over back to his table when the door had opened too hard, almost slamming into the wall behind it. Danny and several of the early bird patrons, along with the barista, had startled. Danny though, went still as a tall man in a pristine white suit crossed the threshold.

The man had short-cropped brown hair and dark shades that obscured his eyes. Danny had gone wide-eyed, but quickly averted his gaze as the man began to scan the room purposefully. Danny held his cup near him, hoping he looked unobtrusive enough. The barista though, slammed a hand on the counter, walking out from behind it. Danny flinched.

“Hey, watch it! That door’s made of glass, you know!”

The man turned from his stoic scan of the room to the smaller woman who stood with her arms crossed as she glared at the man.

“Can I get you anything?” she demanded pointedly.

“Have you seen any strange sightings here recently, ma’am?” The Agent asked instead.

“What? Strange like you?”

Danny liked her.

The man sighed, pulling out his ID to show her. “I’m an agent of the federal government, ma’am, and we’re here on a business related to national security.”

Danny scoffed. Is that what they’re calling it now?

The woman faltered. “Erm… okay? To answer your question, no? Why?”

The man took a small device out from an inner pocket in his jacket. It was beeping erratically. “There seems to be high amounts of ecto-contamination in this area, and we’ve been sent here to find the source.”

He winced. What the fuck. Their instruments aren’t usually that precise.

“High amounts of-of what?” The woman looked flabbergasted.

Danny took that as his cue to leave.

He quietly slipped off the chair he had been slouching in and headed for the bathroom in the back, holding his coffee near his chest.

He felt like he could feel the man staring at his back as he walked, but Danny didn’t dare glance back to check. He just shoved the bathroom door open (hey, gender-neutral, that’s neat—) and then quickly phased out the back wall, going invisible.

When he made it outside, sipping on his iced coffee, he blinked at the three white vans parked in the street in front of the café. Maybe he should have picked somewhere further away to sleep from the place he wanted to visit today, but Danny had figured it would take longer for them to show up. He grumbled a bit, mad they had been able to track him to an exact location. Oh well, guess he’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. Nice coffee, at least. He wished he had gotten to try the bagel.

Danny started walking away, being careful not to scuff the ground, and trying hard not to sulk. He was trying even harder to ignore the way his free hand was shaking, so he removed the straw and made it go intangible to dry it quickly as he chugged the rest of the cup. He phased it into a nearby trashcan so it wouldn’t make a noise before he took off flying.

It was seriously becoming a wonder to him how many resources they must have been sinking into this endeavor. Sure, he could travel pretty easily over long distances, but they use up so many resources in this chase. Gas, tech, planes, agent salaries. Made him a little more vindictive of the government—not only did they waste so much time and money on their stupid ghost hunt, but seriously, with public funds, too. Absolute trash.

Well, California was a bust for now. Wonder where else he could go for today.

◇◆◇

Ancients, he loved flying. Now that he was away from the city, Danny wooped as he twirled and spun through the air, speeding wildly. Flying in his human form took quite a bit more energy than it did in his ghost form, but Danny didn’t care. It felt similar to going really hard at the gym—or in his case, since he had never been to an actual gym, going hard during a sparring session with Pandora. Pushing his body further and further to feel the burn of energy, the exhilaration of his muscles straining against the effort. He didn’t get that feeling as a ghost, it was just too easy to fly when your body was a self-sufficient, regenerating goop battery. Plus, the Ring gave him an extra buff he needed to go all out on the energy spending side of things.

He kept his invisibility up, because, he wasn’t an idiot. But he was pretty sure his human half had a lesser ecto-signature than his ghost half, even when he used his powers like this. Plus, at the speed he was going, they wouldn’t be able to ping it to a single location until he stopped. And sorry-not-sorry for them, Danny could make it all the way across the country in a fraction of the time it took for the GIW to catch up. He actually wasn’t sure where their main base of operations was now, whether it was still in Illinois or not, but it didn’t matter. He had been stringing them along on the world’s longest goose chase for years now.

He loved to fly high, darting through clouds, and then letting himself free-fall. It made him laugh as his center of gravity dropped, and just for a second, he could imagine he was in space. He had actually tried to get to space once, but it been surprisingly difficult, so it had become kind of a pet project for him to try and figure out how to make it work. And boy when he did… He laughed again, taking a dive to build up speed and closing his eyes to enjoy the wind and his hair whipping around behind him.

It only took a couple hours to land on the east coast—Rhode Island. Tiny, tiny state, but eh, he had mostly flown straight and didn’t pay attention where he was hitting until he was damn near at the Atlantic Ocean. Maybe he could catch the sunset tonight. He flew down to try and get his bearings again, finding the closest city to land and resume visibility. He sent a quick text to Sam to let her know they were in the same time zone again, in case they wanted to chat later. For now, he really wanted something to eat.

Once he had started walking, he began looking around for his usual staples. Cheap food, good food, and sleep spot options. His body was on a different schedule, aka having no schedule at all other than how long to chill before noping out of a new place, and it was kind of nice how he never had to keep track of where he was. He moved around so much that it didn’t matter. He also kept an eye on posters though for small jobs, anything quick he could take to get some extra cash. Sam never let him get too low, and Jazz would give him some too whenever they met up, but he really didn’t want to have to rely totally on them for money. Eventually, he’d like to be able to stop accepting it altogether, but holding a stable job when you were being hunted for sport was actually quite the trial.

He passed a burger place, and perked up at the thought, until he realized they didn’t open until the afternoon and it was technically still morning. Ugh. He kept walking. The city was fairly lively, and he kept an eye on the people he passed out of habit. He gave the GIW a distance to track him over, plus a trail they’d be compelled to follow, so with any luck he’d be able to hang here for a week or so.

Something about the town was definitely making him feel… strange. Watched, maybe? Except he knew there weren’t any ghosts about, and there couldn’t be any agents here already. He continued his strolling, keeping a closer eye on the locals. They seemed normal, and he didn’t really have any reason to think otherwise. No one gave him weird looks as he passed by, but he still felt like something was off… It wasn’t until he reached the edge of town that it dawned on him what the feeling was—

He was in Happy Harbor. As in, base of the Young Justice League Happy Harbor. He almost laughed. The city was protected.

Geez, I’ve seriously been on the run for too long, if somewhere safe feels so foreign.

Well, on the other hand, that should make enjoying some time to himself a little bit easier.

He watched over the bay as waves rolled in, admiring the possibly man-made mountain. It was tall, but still wide, and dotted with foliage in a way that blended nicely with the surrounding landscape. The ocean breeze felt good, the air tangy and sharp.

Nodding to himself, he began a walk back towards the middle of the city, trying to feel out how the city’s ectoplasm levels were. Usually a high hero presence meant a high villain presence. Challenges available, and all that. It felt surprisingly low, for a city with a hero base. Which was good—it meant the city didn’t see a lot of death. Then again, the YJ Team were supposedly scouts, not doing much work with direct confrontations. He finally registered the feel of the locals, too, now that he knew what to look for—they genuinely looked happy. Relaxed. Funny, since he would have thought the moniker name might have ruined the novelty of the vibe.

He passed by a store that just screamed tourism trap, but paused, seeing the Batman memorabilia inside—not just Batman specifically, he realized, but many of the other Bats as well. He blinked at the unexpected tightness in his chest. He had thought about going to Gotham, of course. He had thought about it so many times the past few years. Wondered what it would look like, making the city a new home. But…

The Red Hood, mask angled dangerously down at him, came to mind. The Red Hood who would definitely shoot first, ask questions later if Danny started snooping into his life. The Red Hood who was probably sick. Danny frowned. Now that he had a better hold of his powers and a good amount of experience ditching the GIW, could he afford to go to the city? Would it put Hood in more danger? Danny was, again, not entirely sure but mostly sure Red Hood was some kind of Realms being. He had a core, or a part of one. He could be highly liminal, but Danny suspected it was more than that. Not many beings leaked ectoplasm the way he had, but that had been in the future. It didn’t help that Danny didn’t know any of the Bats’ identities, other than Bruce.

Danny, out of boredom more than anything else, went into the shop. There were mugs, t-shirts, and other knick-knacks with different superhero logos on them. It made him briefly wonder how a black mug with a white trailing D would have looked, but quickly shook his head. Danny Phantom was never meant to be the hero. That had been a mistake.

He walked the aisles, looking casually at the various magazines covering the superheroes, some of which included literal interviews (in the cases of Superman, Wonder Woman…) but with the Bats, it was all secretive—pure speculation. The media didn’t know what to make of the nighttime vigilantes. It almost made Danny laugh, thinking back to the oddly familial group, the fun way they had picked on each other over comms. Danny had always been paired with one of the others, since they tended to glitch out near him, but his super-hearing had been good enough for him to follow along anyways.

He snagged one, stifling a laugh at the cheesy headline: “Does The Batman have a secret lover or just a shockingly horrible lack of impulse control? A collection of ideas on how Gotham’s infamous crime-fighter keeps acquiring new sidekicks.” Oh man, he’d love to show this one to Bruce. He quickly paid for it after waking the sleeping cashier and walked back out into the mid-morning sun. The impromptu cross-country flight had left him feeling much lighter than he had that morning.

It didn’t take long to find a not-so-busy breakfast place where he could order another bagel. This time though, he got it as an egg sandwich, and pulled out his wire headphones to wait for the food to come out. After untangling them, he unabashedly began flipping through the magazine, nearly cringing from the sharp second-hand embarrassment it was giving him (these people were not that creative, for people who wrote stories as their career), but still grinning despite himself. He was snickering at one “theory” that each of the Batkids were actually from affairs with his different rogues, who all attacked him now for leaving them single parents—when a random man at the counter next to him laughed so loudly it made him jump despite wearing headphones.

He quickly yanked out an earbud to look over, trying to figure out what the man was laughing at, but the man quickly held up a hand to him before he could say anything.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to be so loud—” the stranger apologized, laughing again. He only pointed at the magazine in Danny’s hands.

“Oh,” Danny said, realizing what had happened as his shoulders relaxed, “no worries, man, I just didn’t expect it.” He grinned. “It’s so awful, you know?”

The man, who wore a bright yellow tee, grinned back. “For sure.” He was very dark-skinned with dark brown eyes that looked kind. His curly hair was cropped short, with a couple style lines buzzed at the sides.  

“Just, I mean,” Danny continued, laughing, “imagine being the person people write about like this.”

“I could never.” It was obvious the man was barely holding back laughter.

Danny nodded to the book the stranger was reading, leaning back as he reminded himself he didn’t need to be so tense. “What about you?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Ah, a classic. Is it actually as good as English teachers make it out to be?”

“I think so, although I’m actually reading since a friend recommended it. It has all the quips of a classic book, but the mysteries are actually intriguing. I think a lot of modern mystery books are too easy to guess. Some people criticize Doyle for being too unpredictable though, since things tend to come out of nowhere, so I guess it’s a personal opinion.”

Danny nodded. A waitress came bring him a second coffee and he thanked her.

“Are you new to town? I haven’t seen you around,” the man ventured.

Danny clamped up, immediately suspicious. It must have been obvious though, because the stranger immediately backpedaled. “Sorry, not my business.”

“No, its—sorry, you’re fine. I am new, I guess.” Danny admitted with a grimace. “You’re a regular, then?”

“Sort of. I like to take my breaks here. Great food, great people.”

Danny nodded. “That’s fair. Sorry, though, I dunno why I’m being all,” he waved his hand in a so-so kind of way, before shrugging.

“No problem. My name’s Duke, by the way.” He held out a hand.

Danny blinked. It’d been a while since he’d struck a random conversation like this—one that lasted beyond the initial niceties.

“Danny,” he offered, turning halfway so he could shake it. 

“Cool. You staying here for long, or…?”

“Nah, just passing through. I’ll be here a few days, though.” Danny gave the man a quick look as a thought came to him. Duke only wore a plain t-shirt and joggers, with not much else on him. “Actually though, I uh,” he cleared his throat.

Duke looked expectantly.

“I could use some work, if you know anyone who needs it? Nothing permanent or you know, big. But I can do some repair work, or like, walk dogs or something. I’m good with dogs.” He smiled through the cringe at the lame sounding finish, thinking of Cujo and how very much not-good he had been with dogs initially. “So um, just, if you happen to?”

Duke nodded, smiling. “Sure, no problem. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Thanks.”

Duke glanced down to the magazine again, or Danny thought he had, before he spoke up again.

“Is that ring an heirloom?”

Danny froze. What.

“Huh?” was all that made it out.

“The ring you’re wearing—it looks like a signet ring. Those are fairly uncommon now, you know?”

Danny quickly looked down at the Ring he wore, on his left middle finger, shining brightly in the ghostly spectrum. It should be invisible to humans. He glanced back up at Duke. He’s not wearing white—he can’t be an agent—unless, would they change that? Go secret undercover style? That seemed unlikely, the GIW hadn’t changed tactics in years—

“Er, sorry man, I keep prying.” Duke rubbed at the back of his neck, and Danny realized how rude he must have seemed.

He balled his hand into a fist, moving it under the table but took a sip of the coffee to hide the gesture. “Um,” Danny started, and shrugged again. Man, when had he become so hopelessly awkward? “Sorry, I’m not used to uh, people asking about it, I guess.” He hated how he stuttered over the words. Danny continued staring at Duke, trying to sense for any ectoplasmic energies around the man, but he felt clean. Definitely not a Realms being.

Duke nodded, smiling easily. Danny relaxed a smidgen.

Something feels off. Maybe he wouldn’t be staying in Happy Harbor for long, after all. Maybe people here were just used to picking out the odd ones, living so close to a hero base. Maybe they could tell he was different.

The waitress came by just then to drop off his plate, still steaming from the grill. Danny’s mouth watered. Duke smiled again, closing his book. “Well, I’ll leave you to your breakfast. It was nice to meet you, Danny.”

Danny smiled, feeling a bit relieved. “Thanks, it was nice—” Danny cut off abruptly, tilting his head to the side. A high-pitched ring seemed to come out of nowhere, gradually growing louder. The pitch grew higher, to the point it almost sounded like it was coming closer, which caused Danny’s gut to drop. He half-stood, knocking over his drink in the process.

“What’s wrong?” Duke asked, alarmed, and began to look toward where Danny had angled his head.

Are the GIW seriously here already? Holy shit, how did they—

“I just—” he was cut off by a deafening boom, which cracked horribly close by as fire erupted all around him and he was flown backwards to the sound of shattering glass.

◇◆◇

Considering he had temporarily taken up role as a local vigilante, Danny had been in a surprisingly few number of explosions. Most of his fights had taken place out in the open, and he was usually given a literal warning before anything came at him.

When he opened his eyes, he instinctively went to breathe in, but stopped when smoke filled his lungs and he coughed painfully. Ok, no oxygen for now. Ow. Danny blinked, unused to the feeling of generally lacking awareness that he felt right now. He was usually very careful not to get caught off guard.

Right now though it was dark, and felt very hot. He blinked several times before realizing there was no way a normal person would be able to see in here. Oh, and he was on the ground. He was supposed to be getting a late breakfast. My bagel…

“-old on, hold on, Danny, I’m going to get you out.”

Oh, there was something on top of him. Something heavy.

“Wha…?”

The face in front of him looked familiar. Like an older, buffer Tucker. Buff Tuck. His head rolled back from the exertion.

“Danny, are you with me?”

“What?”

“It’s me, Duke,” the man reiterated, and he felt a hand on his shoulder, holding firmly. Grounding.

Oh, Duke. Yeah he knew a Duke. Danny shook his head slightly, which caused it to spin. “What happened?”

“Explosion, not sure from where. I thought you heard it coming?”

Danny tried to push up, shifting his elbows beneath him, but found he couldn’t.

“Whoa whoa, hold on, you gotta be still, we’re gonna have to get you out carefully.”

Clarity struck Danny like a bat. He gasped in surprise, realizing the weight on him was a collapsed part of the building. “Didn’t know…what the sound was,” he grit out. Hopefully his Nokia-Foley phone survived. He had stupidly left it in his pocket instead of his ectoplasm.

“It’s alright, there’s already help on the way.”

Danny tried very quickly to catalogue what was where. His limbs still felt attached, so that was good, it would be really annoying to have to fake healing from an injury like that. He was buried from the waist down though, and he was definitely bleeding. He winced sharply as the pain started coming to him through the shock.

Damn, if he would leave I could phase out of here, but of course he’s a good fucking samaritan.

Duke was still gripping his shoulder, trying to maintain eye contact. Probably to check Danny hadn’t passed out or anything else that indicated an abrupt decline in health.

“You okay?” Danny asked instead, because Duke definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah, I’m fine, nothing hit me. I just passed out for a bit, I think.”

That was fair. And good, too, considering Danny could heal from almost anything and Duke was just a human.

“Ok, cool. Man, that’s two bagels down today.”

“What?”

“What?”

Danny moved past it, trying to get his brain to work. Backpack. No, I can’t lose it—

“Hey, do you see my backpack anywhere?”

Duke stared at him for a minute. Oh yeah, most people probably wouldn’t care about possessions in a moment like this. He wasn’t most people.

Duke fumbled, recovering, and began to look around. There was fire nearby, providing their only light. Danny tried to peer around him, but couldn’t see much. Duke shifted and briefly left to go look to where the tables they had been sitting at were crushed, some half-buried.

“Maybe? There’s a backpack,” he answered, sounding doubtful.

“Bring it?” Danny asked pleadingly.

Duke reappeared, and Danny’s chest loosened just a bit. He grabbed it with the nearest hand. It was completely covered in ash but he could feel the scribble hoodie’s bulk inside it, and he lowered his head, relaxing. Next time that’s going in the goop, too, he thought wryly.

“Thank you,”

“No problem, man.”

Just then, a couple shouts were heard from a distance. Danny knew he would normally be able to make them out, but right now his ears were ringing. Were they bleeding?

“We’re over here!” Duke called out.

It kind of…felt nice, to be saved, in a way. Except not really, cause this hurt a lot… But something about Duke caring enough to stay with him made him a tad emotional.

Eventually a mixed team of firefighters and medics made their way over and Danny heard Duke start to explain the structure that was pinning him in place. Danny however, immediately started panicking as hands surrounded him, probing softly and speaking over another. He hadn’t realized earlier, but his right arm was pinned as well—he was almost completely trapped. Stop touching me—

He tried to push away from them, flailing with all the movement he could.

“Hey, hey, hey—” Duke was back by his side, shushing him gently. “It’s okay, they’re here to help, okay?”

Danny looked around at the people with flashlights, unable to see their faces—what color were they wearing—he could escape right now if he really wanted to—

“Danny. Danny, you’ll be okay, do you hear me?”

Shit, I’m panicking, I need to focus—

He looked back at Duke. He was covered in dirt, but no blood, his yellow shirt was darkened with soot though. Danny tried to calm down. “G—” he cut himself off. Fuck-fuck-fuck-Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9. Tears pricked at his eyes. He wanted out.

“They’re going to give you some medicine to help with the pain, and then we’ll be able to lift this, okay? It’s ketamine, you’re not allergic, right?”

Medicine?

Danny saw one of the medics preparing a syringe behind where Duke kneeled.

Oh no, no-no-no-no—Danny screamed. He flung, he pushed Duke with the one free hand he had. He tried to kick his legs, but that only caused pain to flare from his lower body. He jerked his head from side to side. “Get away!”

It took several minutes before he could understand anything being said to him. Duke had pressed both hands to his shoulders, squeezing in a way that was probably meant to be comforting. Danny was crying.

“Okay, okay, you’re okay, Danny.”

“No!”

“No medicine, that’s right— no medicine, okay?”

Danny could tell Duke was speaking carefully to the paramedics behind him, his tone stern. Danny just felt tears sliding down his cheeks—warm, human tears. At least he hadn’t completely panicked, yet. He hadn’t transformed.

“Don’t put nothin’ in me,” he ground out, breathing heavily.

“We won’t, I promise. We’re just going to have to move you quickly once we get this up, okay?”

Danny felt his breathing come a little easier—Duke was actually listening—he felt it leveling out even though he was still gulping for air. His throat and lungs burned but he didn’t care.

“You with me?”

“Y-yeah,” Danny answered, head spinning, “s-s—”

“No need,” Duke answered easily, before Danny could finish apologizing.

It was a coordinated effort, but the firefighters had brought in a portable jack and had a gurney ready to go, too. Danny kept a close eye on the medics to make sure none of them would try anything, but they seemed to have acquiesced to Duke’s instructions. Which, was sort of odd considering they were professionals and he was a civilian, but something in the way he carried himself spoke to his authority.

Danny’s thoughts whited out in pain as the rubble was suddenly lifted, the crank slowly decreasing the pressure as blood rushed back to legs. Fuck-fuck-fuck-FUCK— then he was being lifted, and then he could feel the gurney being lifted too. Yellow stayed in his field of vision, and it was the only thing keeping Danny calm at the moment. When they made it back into the sunlight, he was being transported over to an emergency set-up with flashing lights nearby. People rounded on him as soon as they brought him into view.

“No injections,” Duke instructed to the medics. “No needles whatsoever, is that clear?”  He spoke lowly to the EMT, who looked unhappy but nodded. Danny was relieved. He really would have to find a way to thank this Duke guy.

Danny really wanted to pass out right then. Ancients he wanted to sleep this off, but he also wanted to make sure no one tried anything while he was out of it like this. And also, he really wanted to know what the hell had happened.

He heard the sound of a helicopter and felt his blood run cold, thinking they had caught up—but it was just a news crew. He shook his head, berating himself for the mistake. Not a good time to lose control.

People in the meantime had stopped touching him.

Danny had been left for now in the back of an ambulance, only wrapped with temporary splints around both legs and an IV that was not hooked up at the moment. Oh, they looked nasty. Blood was seeped through a majority of the dark jeans, and the skin he could see through the tears were mottled in dark bruises. He hadn’t gotten a good look earlier, but he was pretty sure a good number of bones had been crushed. If he could just get away, he could work on healing those.

He also noticed his very dirty, beat up backpack had been left by his cot. Duke had made sure to grab it for him, then… The kind gesture felt so unusual. So unwarranted, but appreciated. It made Danny almost begin to cry again.

He focused, breathing in and out like he used to practice with Jazz, holding in between to force his body to calm down. He stared at his bloodied and bruised legs, focusing on drawing all of the ambient ectoplasm around him to healing. The Ring on his left hand burned cold with energy, like the feeling of dry ice on skin—it was almost painful, but it meant it was doing it’s thing, so Danny ignored it.

Danny lifted his head to look out the back of the ambulance. He didn’t see yellow, so Duke was either out of sight or had run away. Which, would be fair. Danny clenched his teeth, breathing in slowly through his nose. Alright, goin’ ghost~

Danny reached to grab the backpack, then shifted into invisibility, then intangibility. He fell through the bed until he hit the road. Luckily, his bones weren’t jostled since they didn’t actually connect with anything solid. Danny floated away, thankful for not needing to walk. The Ring burned brighter as he began to focus all of his energy into it—concentrating on funneling the ambient ectoplasm into his body. Danny felt his shoulders relax as he did, feeling the bones mold back together and the muscles stitch themselves into place. He kept concentrating, trying to suck up as much as possible. He felt a sharp pang of regret, realizing there was quite a bit more than there had been earlier. People had died, then.

What the hell happened.

This definitely wasn’t the GIW, something else had caused the explosion. He temporarily felt a flare of embarrassment at the realization. Geez, Danny, not everything is about you.

Danny yelped as the news helicopter was suddenly struck with a red beam, causing the back half to explode as it spiraled out of the air. Oh shit— Danny flinched forward, hesitating, but he hadn’t had time to fully decide whether to jump in before Superman was there, steadying the burning chopper to lower it to the ground. Holy Ancients, that’s Superman.

Okay, so there is definitely heroes on site. Nothing for him to worry about then. Right?

He closed his eyes. He could feel people dying around him. I was lucky. If I had been fully human, I’d be dead too, probably. He felt his breathing start to grow heavy. Technically people dying was his domain of responsibility. But that was usually post-death. This was current-death, or not-death, in the best of cases. Saving people. Hero work.

I’m not a hero anymore—I’m not—

A crash from further away went off and Danny flinched.

Feeling his legs were steady enough, finally, still aching of course but not mind-numbing needles of pain, he lowered himself to the ground. He could stand. He tentatively raised each leg in turn, then squatted to get a feel for the extension of movement—it hurt. But not so much that he couldn’t push through it, if needed.

Danny gritted his teeth, feeling frustrated at his own indecisiveness. He should run. If he was smart, he would run.

Danny looked up as Superman laser-eyed the attacker in return. Danny felt a bit more reassured, until another beam shot out nailing Superman straight in the chest which sent him crashing into a half-ruined building.

That made Danny pause. I’m not a hero, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help, right…?

Danny closed his eyes. What if I’d just get in the way?

Danny jogged closer to the debris-filled area, where several buildings looked like they had crashed into each other at different angles. He stopped to assess how his legs were feeling. They were sore, stiff as hell and hurting, but working. He’d be okay.  As he got closer, he could hear shouting from the other side, and he dropped to a crouch as the unstable rock shook again.

I don’t want people to get hurt.

Another explosion, albeit a smaller one, went off and the structure he was used as covered crumbled a bit more. He instinctively went intangible as a large piece of rock fell right where he had been. Danny set his jaw. I can help. He ignored the panic building in his chest—the uncertainty of the situation, all the attention this would surely be drawing, the minutely rising ectoplasm everywhere in the vicinity…

He hadn’t done this in a long time. He was a civilian now. No—scratch that, he was a refugee. He had no business interfering right now… Danny looked towards the direction where the ambulances had arrived, three clustered closely around a large group of people in various states of injury. Would there be more if he didn’t help?

Danny sighed shakily, looking down at his hands. The Ring of Resilience burned vivid green in the ghostly spectrum. A weird kind of calmness settled over him as he watched it glowing, pulsing where it was channeling ectoplasm into his aura. He let his shoulders relax, looking at it. Remembering the Council of Ancients chanting words as they offered it to him, four years ago, as their words had rung out across the Realms.

Behold, the new bearer of the Crown and Ring, Danny Phantom. To you we pass the power of the infinite cosmos of all dimensions. Hail, Ghost King of the Infinite Realms. Rise, and be Heard.

Danny closed his eyes, feeling his arms drop and his scrunched face smooth out as he took a deep, steadying breath. He felt the air cool around him but wasn’t troubled by his power surfacing. Nah, fuck this. I’m not useless. I’m not weak. No. No. He’s the motherfucking Ghost King. If the GIW came now, even if… even if the Justice League helped them. He would be fine. He could beat them, probably. And if not, well… he would leave. I won’t be captured again. His hands jerked, recalling the long-past but not-forgotten feeling of blades pushing into his chest, past the ecto-clothing and into his body. The way it had spilled green everywhere—across his chest, the table, the floor—

He balled his hands into fists, feeling the Ring shine brighter in his fury. Not a Ring of Rage. I was never going to become that. And right now, there was no need for anyone to be hurt, not when he had other options. Not when he had the power to help.

Danny lifted his head, letting out a slow, measured breath. His eyes became more focused, filtering out the white noise of screaming and shouting and sirens in the background.  

White rings enveloped his center, expanding out to disappear on either side. The weight of the backpack he had been wearing disappeared, and an airy lightness came over him instead. The pain lessened too, bringing relief. He felt his light hair flowing softly in a wind only he could feel. The city’s ectoplasm felt sharper now, more present. A small part of his mind just knew the GIW would pick up on his changed energy levels, even if they hadn’t already from his healing, but he could worry about that later. There was something attacking the city, and people were dying.

They probably have plenty of heroes to stop the villain…but I bet they don’t have much support.

Chapter Text

Danny phased through the rubble, listening for the telltale screams of people trapped, same as he had been. It seemed a good place to start. Most of the people he found were either unconscious or barely lucid, so he just picked them up to phase them out of wherever they were and brought them close enough for the rescue paramedics to find easily. Navigating past the unstable structures seemed to be the hardest part for the emergency responders. Once he was sure he got all of the people trapped in the immediate vicinity out (—he checked the bodies too but some were already gone—), he focused on muffled shouts in the distance as must have been a crowd of people clustered together, so he made his way there, running as he phased his way over to find them.

When he emerged, he realized he had cleared through the fallen building, now standing on the opposite side. It looked bad.

Shiiiiit—

There were some kind of green and black monkey…things, robots of some kind, flying everywhere, cackling madly as they swooped in to terrorize a crowd that was obviously trying to get away from them. He quickly scanned them in the ghostly spectrum, but they were just mechanical drones. Danny only briefly looked past them to where a larger, orange and green humanoid robot stood in the middle of the destruction, where all of the nearby buildings had been blown away, leaving massive craters and dust. There were a lot of heroes focused on the big robot—so little evil robots it was.

He flew up, still invisible, and began shooting the monkeys down, trying to destroy them before they could get too close to the civilians, but there were a lot—geez, what kind of villain outbreak has monkey drones?—Danny just kept summoning his ecto-blasts, methodically shooting them out of the sky, hovering out of sight. Luckily the chaos concealed him better than anything else was, at this point. Finally, the first wave was destroyed, and he floated to the ground, trying to see if there was a way for them all to escape.

The crowd seemed to be heading towards some of the buildings still standing—which was smart. He found a large piece of rubble to hide behind, and quickly transformed back into his human half. The pain that flooded his legs caused him to stumble, but he jogged to catch up to the crowd, gritting his teeth to ignore the throbbing. He was pretty sure he wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, so it should be fine. He didn’t bother looking down to check.

He caught up to them, seeing them all looking around, lost, bumping into each other in the confusion. Most of them had that panicked look that told him they weren’t able to think clearly at the moment, which again, was fair. He pushed through them to the front, calling them over.

“Over here! This way!” His voice sounded like shit, not that anyone cared right now.

Some of them got the idea and the rest seemed to follow as he tried to get around the side of the building, leading the way—surely there’d be an alley or a door somewhere to hide inside—but right when he made it over to an opening, a new explosion went off, and Danny had to throw his hands up to cover his face.

The crowd scattered and ran, rearing back, screaming. Fuck—Danny shook his head, trying to clear the ringing sound, and moved back to join the crowd who was retreating again. He tried to see if any had run into the immediate danger zone (that’s a big scary robot right there—he tried to ignore the sound of the heroes getting pulverized to focus on the people trying to escape future pulverization). There were maybe thirty, forty people here? All ages, even a few kids, with various degrees of injury. Many of them were bleeding or covered in dirt and ash, but no one seemed perilously hurt. He would need to stay with them to keep it that way.

Maybe they could escape through the other side? There was so much ground to cover—he didn’t have time to figure it out before a second wave of those stupid green monkeys appeared, and the crowd bolted back in the direction they had come—running into and over each other. Danny paused to help a mother who was desperately trying to drag her child along behind her, and winced when he saw her bloodied arm. She gave him a frantic look, and he tried to smile reassuringly as he picked the child up so she could run while cradling her probably-broken arm.

“Go! Right behind you!”

She ran. He kept on her heel, so she wouldn’t stop when she kept looking back to make sure her child was still safe. The boy was crying—no, howling in Danny’s ear as he ran, which wasn’t really helping with how disoriented he was at the moment, but it couldn’t be helped. Keeping them safe was all that mattered. Breathe in—hold—breathe out. When the two caught up to the crowd again, they were somewhat backed into a corner against the destroyed building—right back where they had started. He set the child down, making sure the mother had his hand, before running around to the opposite side—was there a way out?

Danny was startled as a hero he recognized—Aqualad—was suddenly thrown into the building just in front of Danny, less than 10 feet from the giant crowd of people, but barely had time to react before the humanoid robot rushed in to body slam the hero. Danny threw his hands up with a jolt, conjuring an invisible shield to keep the droid away from the civilians. He had to trust the heroes could handle themselves—and Aqualad delivered, bringing his water-swords up (omg, cool—) and pushing the droid back before dashing back to the main battlefield. Good, threat gone. He turned when he heard more yelling from behind him, and whirled to see a third wave of the Ancients-damned monkeys back, crawling up from behind the structure they were using as cover. He almost went invisible to change back to his ghost form, when he heard a particularly anguished cry and gasped as he saw one of the monkey’s drag a man partially into the sky—and just as quickly a giant green bird of prey—oh shit, that must be Beast Boy—swooped in, tearing the monkey away.

Danny watched as the man’s shoulder bloomed gushing red from where the robot had been tearing into his skin. Fuck-fuck-fuck—The man yelled out in pain as a woman next to him screeched at the sight.

Danny kneeled, swinging his backpack around to the front forcibly to dig through and find one of his spare shirts, pulling it out. He ran to the man, who was clutching his shoulder and weeping openly while most of the other civilians either watched him bleeding in horror or were watching the fight in horror, and quickly reached his side.

He bunched the shirt into his shoulder, pressing to try and stem the blood flow.

“Hold on—just hold on, sir, put pressure here—” The man gasped, but nodded in thanks. Shock, definitely. Danny gave him a tight-lipped smile, before flinching as another explosion went off above them. Danny ducked, but instinctively threw up his hands to conjure a shield overhead—the falling rocks rolled off the side rather than crashing into the crowd below.

“Fuck!”

He was losing his composure, quickly. C’mon Danny, you’re better trained than this. He tried not to think of how Pandora would lecture him for losing focus in such a dire situation. He turned his attention back to the man’s shoulder to resume applying pressure to the wound, and finished securing the shirt, tying it as tightly as he could while it soaked up blood. Once done, Danny wheeled about, trying to spot an escape route—he had to get the people out. He had to get them out.

Danny scanned the battlefield—there wasn’t a way out—and he couldn’t phase lucid people out of there, not without scaring the hell out of all of them or revealing himself. He would need them all to stay still anyways—shit.  

Danny slunk to the back of the crowd, making sure he was out of sight, before transforming again. The coolness of his ghostly body contrasted blissfully against the heat all around him—but he couldn’t stop to focus on that. He began scanning the perimeter, identifying the weak points.

To the left from the crowd’s perspective was a giant, fragile-looking glass building that towered over every other building nearby. If that toppled or shattered, a lot of people would be crushed beneath it, not counting the people possibly hiding inside. He twisted his left wrist, throwing up a shield on that side. He kept his left hand out, focusing on channeling the ecto-energy around him to keep the shield up, just in case. His opposite hand focused on the shield on the right, maintaining where the man-bot nearly crashed into the crowd earlier.

A thought occurred to Danny amidst the chaos, and he turned to scan the sky. Where had Superman gone?

Danny bit his lip, turning to look over the crowd once more—they had given up on running away, and were now huddled, cowering back as far back into the rubble wall as they could be. He would have to stay here to protect them, then.

He ran over, still invisible, to the front line of the civilians. Channeling his power, feeling it course through him like a thrumming buzz of energy, he flicked his right wrist over and materialized another shield directly in front of them, before bringing his hands together to merge them into one, massive shield covering three sides of the threat zone.

He would have to contain the fight. There was no way he was letting some stupid robots kill any of these people.

◇◆◇

Batman sat in his seat in front of the Batcave computer, looking over the multiple monitors showing various hero’s perspectives from the fight in Happy Harbor. He had been reviewing their body cams to see if he could piece together any additional information about the unknown magic-user Zatanna had encountered, but most of the videos from their actual members focused only on Amazo and the “MONQIs”, meaning all of the background stuff was absent or shaky.

So, he had instead begun filtering through the massive amounts of videos posted about it online. Most were useless of course, being too far away or too shaky to gain anything from them (people running away, people posting the clouds of smoke from afar…). However, he had received a tip from Oracle about one woman in particular who live-recorded the entire thing on social media, later commenting on the experience by claiming she had been saved from a “demon.” Batman quickly read through the lists of responses that post had gotten, most of them arguing it was just a meta kid, or an alien possibly, but the woman was convinced it was a demon, since it had “conjured a portal to hell.” Which matched Zatanna’s report of the Unknown disappearing through a portal in the aftermath.

Scrolling back up to the top, having seen enough replies to get a gist of the public’s reactions, he quickly downloaded the video to be able to zoom and manipulate it from the Batcomputer. He directed it to one of his larger monitors before leaning forward to watch with his hands rested in front of him, fingers interlocked.

The video starts with the obviously recent aftermath of an explosion happening, several people were running around screaming and trying to find cover as debris flew over the crowd. The woman who was recording was crying as a few civilians were crushed beneath the weight of crumbling buildings, dark blood seeping from the bodies.

The video showed the woman running with a crowd, breathing hard over the phone as it was jostled up and down as she ran, before coming up short as a massive pile of debris blocked the road. The explosion had hit the foundation of the building, causing the whole thing to topple sideways and into the neighboring building, which blocked off escape for anyone on foot. The crowd split, some trying to go around while the woman and several others tried to make their way back. There was some back and forth running, where the crowd was trying to slip away only to be caught by more MONQI attacks. At some point a civilian had taken charge, pushing through the crowd and yelling to follow him, but the crowd had dispersed again when a new round of explosions went off in the vicinity.

At some point during the ongoing fighting, a group of monkey droids had appeared, one latching onto a civilian while the crowd screamed, before Beast Boy had swung in as an eagle to attack, causing the robot to let the man go. The robot claws had torn his shoulder as it did, leaving blood—one civilian at least must have had medical training, because someone with long dark hair had immediately run over to help stem the blood loss, which was good thinking. It had probably saved the man’s life. The woman recording was crying loudly now, her voice unsteady, angling her camera back to the main fight. Amazo was in the middle of a barrage of various heroes, Beast Boy and Superboy had already been on-site. It was massively unfortunate that Superman had been with Superboy before Batman recalled him from the fight so he didn’t reveal any more of his powers to the super-droid, instead being re-directed to perimeter safety and unburying people (Batman had spent several minutes trying to talk him down—“You need to stay calm, Clark, and use your hearing to help find people buried who are still alive). Superman hadn’t been happy with it, but the League had long established that the Amazo could only mimic physical powers (i.e. extra-terrestrial or meta-gene), not magical ones. Batman had ordered all available magic-users to the site at that point.

They couldn’t risk any more of Superman’s powers being exposed as a template to copy. Conner’s super-strength was comparable to Superman’s, so he stayed in the fight, and Garfield had been allowed to stay since the droid didn’t seem capable of mimicking shapeshifting.

Signal had been on-site as well at the time of the explosion, helping Superman with the trapped civilians and helping injured ones to medical care. Duke had told Batman over comms that they were with someone who seemed to sense the attack before it hit, but he hadn’t finished his final report yet.

In the video, weapons and magical energies both were seen being directed towards the droid, some missing and some hitting. It barely slowed the droid. Superboy, Beast Boy, and Aqualad were taking the lead on the heavy-hitting. At the time, Batman had been in the Watchtower to direct member involvement, selecting which heroes were instructed to jump in and coordinating tactics with people on the ground. Amazo was, unfortunately, an amazing piece of technology. They had learned from their past mistakes not to let just any superhero get involved, or it quickly turned deadly.

The woman and the remaining crowd had backed as far as they could, all staying together now and trying to use the fallen building as cover. The man who had been attacked earlier now had a thick piece of cloth tied across the shoulder—he looked in pain, but wasn’t bleeding out. It was obvious even from the poor quality of the video that the crowd was trapped and more or less, out in the open.

As if to prove the point, a giant chunk of rubble suddenly was thrown at Beast Boy who had been diving towards the droid as an eagle, and who quickly evaded without realizing it left the boulder barreling straight for the crowd of civilians. Several people including the woman recording screamed, only for the rock to suddenly stop dead in the air as it collided with something invisible. The impact was unmistakable, and a barrier pulsed bright green for a moment until the rock slid down, before becoming invisible again.

Batman’s eyes narrowed intently.

There was a quiet “fuck” heard nearby while the woman recording also yelled out, “the hell was that?” Several other shouts of confusion rang through the crowd. Several gasps and new shouts of alarm came as the phone whipped to a new direction, towards the back of the crowd where three monkey droids were landing from the top of the crumbled building, cackling wildly in that high-pitched, mechanical hooting that grated on Batman’s nerves.

Before they could get much closer to the crowd though, three identical blasts of green energy shot out of nowhere—nowhere within sight at least, and the three primate drones went down one by one. The woman had turned to where the blasts came from, but no one was there, all of the heroes preoccupied with Amazo. Batman marked the time on his notepad.

Nothing seemed to happen near the crowd for a while, but the woman had (thankfully) kept recording, mostly focusing on the fight she had an unwilling first-row seat to. Batman carefully watched for anything visible in the background of the fight—several times a hero had been shot back by Amazo’s laser vision and sent flying backwards—most colliding with the ground or destroyed buildings. Several times, though it was difficult to see even zoomed in with the poor quality, the impact seemed to be much less than expected—like something was softening the hits. Finally, it happened once that it was clear to see what was going on—Aqualad had his water-swords activated to try and push the droid back and towards the ocean, where he would be much more versatile, but had taken a direct hit from the heat-vision lasers and was launched into the air at a trajectory where he would have landed against the face of a tall, glass-walled building. The woman recording didn’t notice at the time, still focused on where Superboy had come in behind Aqualad, but Batman saw the same shimmering-green appear right before where Aqualad was about to smash into the building. Instead, he fell about 10 feet before his fall seemed to slow, head lolled in the obvious way that showed he was unconscious. He looked like he was being held mid-air and slowly lowered to the ground. The building had remained untouched.

Hm.

Batman rewound the shot several times to make sure nothing else was visible before continuing. Invisible barriers, visible with contact, he quickly wrote down.

The woman’s angle aggressively panned to where Amazo was now wrestling both Superboy and Beast Boy as a gorilla, while Shazam (new arrival) was trying to pierce the armor from the back. The moment Amazo overpowered the two heroes who had been holding him, it turned to Shazam and shot him with laser vision before he could react. The crowd had screamed, causing Amazo to turn 180 to face them instead, and before any of the heroes could react, shoot lasers directly at the civilians.

It had happened so fast that none of the crowd had time to react except to flinch, not even scream, as the video angle suddenly jerked harshly.

By happenstance, the phone was pointed at the empty space where the laser vision suddenly collided with the again-visible green wall. It rippled and a new voice screamed out in pain. It held for a second, now pulsating a green energy from the source of contact, until Batman watched as a new figure (the Unknown) suddenly shimmered into view—a white light began to crawl from the figure’s feet, inching unevenly until it reached their head and outstretched arms. Invisibility gone, Batman could see their head was down, hands thrust forward, focusing all their attention on maintaining the energy shield that had protected the group from the line of fire. That had elicited shouts of shocked dismay from the crowd, while some had started cheering, the woman included. When the lasers didn’t immediately break the shield, the droid redoubled in intensity, and the Unknown, who Bruce could only see was dressed in black and white with their back to the camera, yelled out again and dropped to one knee.

In the next moment, a black shadow passed overhead that Bruce knew was Raven’s magic rushing over, which forced the Amazo to stop its assault to re-focus on the new enemy. Once the lasers were gone and the figure could relax from the strain, they dropped their arms, still breathing heavily while keeping watch on the fight. Someone shouted to the Unknown, who turned suddenly like they were startled at being noticed. They were panting and their eyes glowed with that same green energy that had appeared when the shields were hit.

Batman watched as a very young face turned towards the direction of the crowd, eyes locking on the phone itself. “Oh shit, is that recording?”

Male, non-human, Batman scrawled on the notepad near him, not taking his eyes off the screen. Oracle had been right—this was by far the best video evidence they had of the Unknown magic-user.

Before the woman could respond, another explosion was sent off which caused the person to turn back their attention to the shield-barrier, which had apparently never been dropped, since it flashed green again with the fire. After it passed, he jogged over to where a child had run out in fright, scooping up the kid to hand back to the parents.

“Nope, not there, buddy.” The parents had tried reaching for the Unknown, mumbling repeated thank-yous, but the white-haired man pulled away with a tight smile to jog back towards the center of the crowd. Smart tactics. Batman was sure the Unknown couldn’t be older than their mid-twenties, at least physically.

“Well fuck me,” the recording had picked up as the boy jogged back, “so much for just covering damage control.” The Unknown kept his eyes scanning the battle, likely looking for any more signs of flying debris or weapons—or heroes. The woman recording now focused on the newcomer, ignoring the fight with Amazo in the background.

“Hey, hey kid! Are you a new hero?”

“What?”

The figure half-turned to the camera. Their hair wasn’t just white, but was actually glowing with a radiance that was sort of ethereal, along with their eyes. There was a streak of lime-green in the man’s hair as well, which was long and fell in messy waves down his shoulders. Interestingly, part of the recording seemed to momentarily glitch at the direct shot of the figure, with the video becoming pixelated in a way that partially obscured their face.

“I’m not a kid—hey, get back!” The figure gestured for the crowd who seemed to be inching closer, less afraid, before he flew upwards to meet an incoming spear that had been re-directed after being stolen from Aqualad, who was again up and back in the fight. Now maintaining position some 20 feet off the ground, the boy held the spear confidently, and the magical shield became visible and transparent, rather than invisible.

Hm, invisibility was likely associated with focus or power levels then. Batman jotted down the idea.

The woman kept her phone pointed upwards at the Unknown before turning back to the main fight, and  Batman watched with sympathy as Amazo slammed Aqualad into the ground by his head, leaving the Atlantian unconscious again inside a crater (Bruce knew Kaldur was still in the infirmary with a concussion). At this point a woman in tights with long black hair, wearing a half-tux top, came into view. Batman hummed, watching as Zatanna approach the floating Unknown on a magically-infused flying object.

“Hey, can you use your magic to help these people get to safety?”

The boy looked frazzled at being noticed, Bruce noted. He seemed to shrink away from her, hunching in on himself, but still answered Zatanna’s question.

“I tried! I can’t get them all at once without drawing attention! The monkeys—"

“Can you cover me?”

“Uhhh—” the Unknown hesitated, trying to readjust, “yeah, yeah sure.”

“Good, I can teleport them away, but I need a minute!”

“Okay, let me—”

Batman watched the two of them get cut off by an electronic arm appearing at a second’s moment, using Superman’s speed it seemed, and punched Zatanna clear across the battlefield before either could react. Batman immediately paused the video, backing up 3 seconds, and re-played it slower. Yes, he thought he had noticed it, but the punch should have made contact with the boy as well—but the mechanical arm had passed right through. Batman made a grunting noise to himself, noting the time on the video, and marking it in his notes as density shifting. He resumed at normal speed.  

The boy had screeched, flinching away, before taking one look at the robot and—punching it back. Zatanna had reported that the Unknown magic-user had eventually gotten into the fight as well, but Batman still hadn’t been expecting that. Especially when the super-strength, super-speed, and generally super-powered droid went flying back harshly, much in the same way Zatanna had, to slam into the ground. Zatanna likely downplayed her own injuries in the report then, too, he noted with a frown. He’d have to check on her later.

The crowd, noticing the change, cheered.

The boy flinched again at the attention, cringing. Interesting.

When Amazo stood up from the crater it had made, something changed in the Unknown’s body language though, like a switch being flipped. Before, he had been almost entirely passive, looking almost afraid of the confrontation—or perhaps, he corrected as he thought to the previous comment on ‘damage control’, he was afraid of getting involved. Now though, he looked bold—floating mid-air and staring down at the droid with his shoulders straightened and head angled dangerously. The Unknown figure still held Aqualad’s spear in one hand, point forward.

“Alright, that’s it—” The white-haired boy growled, before he flew forward in a blur towards Amazo, punching again with his free hand, his fist glowing with that same, sickening green energy. Amazo had aimed several punches towards the Unknown, who had dodged lightly each time, before the Unknown twisted his waist to hold the spear with both hands and thrusted upwards towards Amazo’s neck. The robot had responded just as quickly, side-stepping and grabbing the spear to yank it forward in attempt to throw the magic-user off-balance. It would have worked if the young man hadn’t changed tactics as well mid-stride, jumping to fly overhead and landing on the opposite side.

Trained, extremely precise, good reaction times, Batman jotted. He absently thought of how the young man could easily be any age, given how hard it was to tell ages when it came to magical beings. The witch-boy Klarion was a prime example, so Batman mentally corrected himself on that front.

The magic-user landed behind the droid, who simply rotated his upper body to re-face the Unknown. The Unknown didn’t look that phased, and instead just punched the droid in the chest to send him stumbling back, then jutted his hand forward to shoot an energy blast at its knee to force it to a kneel. Batman saw Raven in the background helping a limping Zatanna as they each concentrated on a condensed magical ward that appeared directly under the half-kneeled Amazo. Shadow and light-bound strings, black and white for the two women respectively, shot from the ground to hold Amazo’s appendages immobile. The droid responded immediately, prepping to shoot as his eyes began to glow hot red, but the Unknown shifted a foot back to bring the metal spear down across its face with his full body weight before it could fire the lasers. The spear broke though, and the man was temporarily caught off guard as the weapon snapped in half, before he dropped the broken metal and shoved both hands straight into the droid’s chest via a density shift. Once in, he re-consolidated his arms and pulled out his fists along with several wires and electrical parts. The Amazo stuttered, jaggedly tilting its head back like it was about to attempt a desperate last strike, before the Unknown repeated the movement by density shifting his thumbs into the droids eyes before ripping the droid’s head in two in a fluid, ruthless motion. That, however, caused whatever wires held the head in place to snap, and the Unknown startled as oil splattered across his face and body. The droid slumped, and when the two magic-users released their ward holding it up, it thudded to the ground, leaking oil from various bits of machinery. It was dark and brown.

The boy flinched again at the thud, wiping his face instinctually, and Batman thought he saw the instant the Unknown reversed back into the passive, scared-seeming body language he had before, even looking around sheepishly from the sudden display in strength.

Possible history of trauma, he added to his notes.

Most of the hero members and magic-users were focusing just on immediate recuperation from various injuries, but Zatanna had looked sharply to the Unknown after the droid was down—the Unknown only caved further in on himself, hunching his shoulders. Zatanna was holding herself up by Raven, who was also staring at the boy. Batman had been in her comms, telling her to follow the Unknown and find out more about him, but he had turned away and jogged back to the crowd, ignoring Zatanna’s call to him.

Now though, he was now closer again to the woman recording.

“Hey, you all okay? Geez, I’m so sorry about that—” There was brown splatter across the front of his chest, now running down in thin streams, and smeared across his face.

“Oh my goodness, are you an alien? Are you a new hero?”

“What?” The green eyes went wide, before laughing tightly. “No, no, not an alien. Look, I’m not supposed to be here so—”

Even Batman was temporarily shocked by the flash of green that zipped past the camera, hitting the Unknown in the back and causing him to fall forward with a gasp. None of the other videos had shown that initial strike, so far. Batman grunted, backing the video several seconds to see if the source of the fire was visible. He could clearly see it form from the air, but nothing was visible. He picked up the pen again. Same magical origin?

Several people started yelling again at the sudden, secondary attack, and the woman retreated backwards as the white-haired magic-user turned with a vicious glare behind him, fangs bared, looking in the direction of where the shot had come from.

Without a pause, a second shot of green energy materialized out of the empty air, this time Batman was able to confirm that it had no visible origin as it appeared out of the sky. The Unknown was apparently caught off-guard as well, with the laser-like energy hitting its target directly in the man’s face.

The momentum from the strike was enough to send the magic-user back to the ground, barely holding himself on all-fours before he shot a hand up behind him to re-materialize the green barrier that had protected the crowd earlier. Now pushing himself up, Bruce watched with a peculiar sense of revulsion as the Unknown kid (he was practically a kid, but he shouldn’t make assumptions—) pushed himself up, lifting his face—which, Batman even found himself shocked, was missing—with only a gaping hole where his eyes, nose, and mouth should have been. He could see clear through the Unkown’s head.

Batman was not one to be fazed by gore or death, but seeing the figure move despite the obvious death-shot was unnerving. The woman recording screamed horribly, shrieking and crying but nonetheless, continuing to hold the phone shakily, as the Unknown leaned back while he held both hands up to its face, feeling the wound while keeling over in obvious pain, based on the shuddering movements. Several more blasts were being shot towards them now, but were all stopped by the barrier, shielding both the Unknown and the crowd alike. Each spot they hit glowed brighter before fading to the normal, translucent green.

Batman paused the video to zoom into the figure’s face. The video quality had quickly deteriorated again, he noted with frustration—he would have to go back and see if any cleaning could be done to the file. But zooming in, Batman noted the insides of the gunshot(?) wound were that same green-glow color, and seemed to be totally lacking any distinct form—no bones or muscle he would expect to see. It almost looked like a swirling pool of—liquid, like—like Lazarus pits. Batman felt himself grow cold at the comparison, as the color drained from his face. He quickly resumed the video, zooming back out to full view.

The green liquid-substance (it looked thicker than water) was dripping from the kid’s face. Bruce felt his stomach twist watching the Unknown try to catch handfuls of the green substance, holding his hands cupped like one would when drinking from a faucet, but missing as most of it dribbled down his arms or fell onto the ground. Transfixed, Bruce watched as the remaining goop (semi-solid substance, green, radiating glow, he marked in his notes quickly), slowly started to reform, shifting unerringly back into place to re-form the boy’s face—eyes first, green irises, blown wide—until the nose was back and eventually the mouth too. He gasped loudly as soon as he could, it seemed. He was shaking noticeably. The shield was still being hit by multiple rounds of fire, despite how Batman knew several of the other heroes had tried to intervene at that point—some even being shot at themselves for disrupting the fight, but luckily no one else had been further injured.

Batman saw the shield wall pulsing oddly, like a light flickering, and hummed. It supported his energy-focus theory.

Some seconds passed where the Unknown seemed to collect himself as he began re-absorbing the green substance back into his body, leaving only the puddle that had fallen into the dirt—Batman watched it twice to note the substance was even absorbed across through his gloved hands and sleeves, through the fabric and skin alike. With a renewed focus, the Unknown pushed himself up to standing again and turned brazenly towards the source of the fire.   

With a yell of frustration, the kid stormed past the woman—who’s hands were still shaking as she recorded as the camera minutely jittered, before she shrieked again—to the fallen building and lifted an enormous chunk of foundation over their head, anger etched into every line of their face. Several people from the crowd scrambled away. He looked pissed, teeth showing in a nasty snarl.

The kid readjusted the cement over their head, where bits of metal and piping stuck out brokenly, before the green shield suddenly dropped.

”Assholes! There’s bystanders here!” Without a second’s hesitation, the kid balanced the cement boulder in one hand and leaned back to throw his body’s weight behind the hurdle as he threw it hard. The woman recording hastily turned in the direction it flew, even without seeing anything—just as the debris collided with a massive machine—a hovering plane of some kind— that suddenly also shimmered into existence. However, unlike the magical lights of energy which Batman had seen the Unknown use for invisibility, the machine’s camouflage dropped with a crackle of electricity that Batman recognized. He crossed out ‘Same magical origin?’ from his notes and put physical tech instead.

Now visible, a large, pristine white ship was floating in the battlefield just above the fallen Amazo. The boulder had been lodged into the top edge of it, smoking. The magic-user glared it down, obviously having known where it was even before the ship’s camouflage had fallen.

“Seriously, if you’re gonna shoot me, don’t do it with a crowd right behind me!”

Batman would have face-palmed if he wasn’t so focused on the video—how many times had he told his own proteges not to antagonize the enemy?

The kid flipped off the ship, inciting another wave of energy shot towards him (which is why—, Batman wanted to lecture), but the boy shot out a series of his own strikes that collided with them instead. They exploded harmlessly in the air, scattering a green cloud of energy at each collision.

The kid turned away from the ship (never do that either—) before raising an arm forward and making a slashing motion into the space in front of him from right to left. There was a defeated slump to his shoulders as a circular, glowing pit of swirling energy—it looked as sickeningly Lazarus as the rest of his magic—appeared before him. He waved casually, and the circle drifted down to be flush with the ground.

Batman tensed. Right. Portal.

“Man, fuck this shit, I’m out.”

He stepped with a light hop through the circle, falling through, which then swirled and closed before anything else could happen. In its place was a very broken piece of road, but no other sign of the portal.

He backed the video up several seconds, trying to gleam anything useful from the last several seconds—since the woman had abruptly stopped recording then, apparently too shocked by the disappearance of the boy to worry about her ongoing recording.

He watched as the Unknow made that horizontal slicing motion, and paused to zoom in. Something on his left hand seemed to shimmer—like a twinkling star, almost— just before the portal appeared, but the quality was too poor to make out what it was. It didn’t help that the entire video had developed a horrible grainy quality to it that most phones never displayed anymore. Something from the fight had corrupted the file somehow, Batman was sure. Because it wasn’t just the onlookers who had their videos corrupted, but several of the League and Young Justice Team members’ body cams had become glitchy and filled with an uncommon static once the mystery man had appeared in earnest.

Batman leaned back, trying to make his shoulders relax, but found that he couldn’t. He glanced over his notes—it didn’t help that the strong magical component put this case firmly outside his area of expertise. Still, a strong magic-user like that should have been somewhere in their systems. Even just a description of the person, or their powers, or even a rumor of their existence. But there had been nothing. None of the still-shots from the video had good enough to run facial recognition software, either. Maybe they could have a sketch artist watch the video.

Batman sighed tiredly. This entire case was a headache. Amazo being stollen and re-built was one thing; such attempts at releasing dangerous technology were a type of recurring problem for the Justice League. But still—that entire incident at Happy Harbor had resulted in nearly three dozen deaths. There was nothing the League could offer to the families who were grieving that would make up for their losses.

And then there was the appearance of this random person, the Unknown magic-user to the battlefield—a stranger who not only was strong enough to take and deflect Superman’s powers and strengths, but also had been maintaining collateral damage as his primary focus… only to then be attacked by a third-party entity right after taking down the droid. Batman maintained an extremely diligent list of meta-humans, technology, and other potential threats along with their contingencies to try and prevent things like this happening. There was no way such a person would exist in the modern world with no record of it, anywhere. Everything was recorded or shared in some form. So why couldn’t he find anything?

Bruce felt his mind slowly slipping out of the focus of the case, pulling his cowl down and leaning his head back tiredly. He looked to the cup of long-cold tea Alfred had brought him earlier, abandoned on the desk. He had forgotten about it, being too absorbed in the new evidence.

He picked it up, swirling it as he thought. Batman was a world-class detective. He regularly collaborated on cases related to the most unusual of phenomena—prevented apocalypses, prophecies, cursed objects, cursed people, natural and supernatural global disasters. And then of course his experience with villains—the cruel, the mad, the apathetic, the greedy. He knew all kinds of enemies. He had dealt with all kinds. It wasn’t often he was left so completely… lost.

It wasn’t often, no, but there were cases that left them all at a loss from time to time. He thought back to a cold case from a few years ago; one that had similarly stumped the Bats, despite him and Tim’s best efforts. Oracle even had gone back to take a look at the evidence, a few times. A fluke report that had led him to investigate a standard billionaire at a gala—one of the many hyper-wealthy individuals that did their best do dominate and bend society to their whims—and one whom Batman had witnessed lose control in a moment of supernatural anger (the red eyes, hot like metal left in a forge for too long, not unlike Amazo’s mimicked heat-vision eyes). He had never forgotten the glowing eyes. It might have helped him to narrow down some answers—if only glowing eyes weren’t such a typical side effect of meta-gene capabilities. They had researched that case extensively, which had only ended in more dead ends and even more frustration.

Batman and Robin had (somewhat begrudgingly) reconvened at one of the Flash’s bases after the incident at the gala to try and find more information on the situation, when all of their computers began glitching horribly—

“Robin!” He barked, frantically typing at his own computer while Barry stood behind him, still in civilian clothes, shocked at the quickly devolving scenario before him. “What’s happening?”

“I—I don’t know, B!” Tim was sweating, frantically looking between multiple screens. Batman had taken the backseat, providing support while Robin took the lead when their files started corrupting. Tim was exceptionally skilled at this, and Batman had no qualms admitting his own weaknesses when needed.

But something had gotten into Tim’s system when they tried to hack into the mansion databases Masters owned. Tim was frantically working between three screens, while Batman was trying to isolate files to separate them, back them up to his personal League-grade satellite so they weren’t corrupted.

“Their entire data storage is fried, and the virus hopped ships. It spread to their other systems, but now—It’s in our system, and it’s—I can’t even properly counter it because the commands are being deleted faster than I can use them!”

“How the hell did a civilian virus beat your tech, Bats?” Barry asked incredulously from behind. Batman wished the man would leave him alone to focus.

“I don’t know,” he ground out, clenching his teeth. Barry got the idea and backed away.

Tim had gone quiet, breathlessly typing away while looking between the screens.

Batman just kept backing things up, ensuring nothing he pulled was connected to the systems Robin was trying to salvage. Luckily they never had all of their info stored in one place, or some very important information could have been destroyed in the process.

After several tense minutes, Robin’s shoulders had slumped in relief, and he wiped his forehead. “I think I have it under control—still, we’re going to have to scrap this entire server. It’s totally screwed up.”

“So…” Flash spoke hesitantly, worried about drawing out Batman’s wrath again, “what exactly set you off on this guy, Bruce?”

“Billionaire threw a temper tantrum,” Robin supplied, resuming his typing. Batman got up to see what files were recoverable and which ones were affected.

An astonishing number had been lost.

In the end, it all appeared to just be a case of a corrupt mayor in a small, unremarkable town.  The virus seemed to have been leaked from Masters’ home security, likely as a way to ward off prying eyes, only to be backfired into its own system. It was possibly what had set off the initial fires, but Batman still had a hunch that it had been something else.

Batman remembered the first thing they had discovered during the background check into Masters, which had also been the easiest. The man had a godson who had recently disappeared: Daniel Fenton.

Bruce closed his eyes, being able to recall the condescending way Masters had talked to the person over the phone—addressed him as Daniel. The tone of it all had been wrong—Batman knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that the mayor had argued over the phone with a person named Daniel. But they had never found any signs of continued contact after that. No calls, no messages, no mail that couldn’t be traced to a known person or business. Daniel Fenton had disappeared. Nothing ever traced back to the town, to his family, to his friends. And nothing else past the initial incident that had sent Masters off popped up on their radar. All of the unusual purchases had continued, and Tim had (more carefully) hacked into Masters’ servers to check for evidence of human imprisonment at his residence, but aside from some unusual scientific equipment, there was nothing. Once it had been rebuilt, the lab was pristine.

Bruce and Tim had searched relentlessly for a Daniel Fenton for close to a year—nothing. What was odd (infuriating would be closer), was how neither the parents of the boy nor Masters himself as Godfather had ever followed up on the case. They had found records that the boy’s friends at school had requested a police investigation, but were denied each time. The boy’s sister and even an English teacher at the local high school who claimed to know him well, had both sent their concerns about the boy’s case marked as “runaway”, but the police had already dropped the case. There had been a single, one-off police report of a teenager matching Daniel’s description reported near Amity several months after he had gone missing, but the boy was gone by the time police had arrived on scene. The only thing they found in the search was a pile of food wrappers stuffed into a bathroom trashcan at the rest stop.

The Bats continued to keep an eye on Jasmine Nightingale, the sister who had changed her name shortly after moving to college out of town, since she seemed to be the only one taking the disappearance seriously. She had gone as far as to start an online campaign about awareness for missing kids. Speaking of, he was pretty sure she would now be finishing her final year of her studies in psychology and social work. Bruce had anonymously sent a few thousand towards her donations, which included both a personal fund and several other missing children’s cases. He remembered how impressed he had been with her work, despite the personal tragedy. Still, Daniel never reappeared. His friends had moved away and contact between them since was minimal. Likely driven apart by the loss of their friend.

After the initial incident, which had made local news as the second famous house in the town being partially burned down in freak fires, the entire town had gone quiet. Batman remembered sitting in front of the Batcomputer with Tim, watching the live footage of the Fenton household, which was conspicuously also the only other residence to have a known, self-made lab inside, burn alongside videos of Masters’ mansion going up in flames.

How had nobody connected those?

The only answer was that nobody had wanted to. Or, more likely, been allowed to.

Batman now had a good amount of evidence against Masters showing standard personality traits of a corrupt, narcissistic politician. Bought his way into position as Mayor of a city for seemingly no reason other than to control what happened in the town—and what information was filtered in and out of the local media. There was also a pretty thorough media blackout that prevented most information from the locals being shared anywhere online. Batman and Red Robin had needed to hack into a local internet tower just to pull up the news feeds.

Masters had a shady background. He used his influence to let various types of darker dealings happen under the table while Mayor—weapons trading, drug deals, high amounts of dark web activity. But that alone wasn’t a super-villain level threat. It barely stood out from the average politician. Yet, much of the local news and public knowledge remained pitifully empty of anything outside the norm. Life in Amity Park looked picture perfect on the cover, being a quiet, suburban town, with the only thing seemingly wrong was the unexplained cases of short-term amnesia or reports of hallucinations. The town had been dubbed “the most haunted city in the US,” with most of the locals commonly citing ghost sightings, but Batman was convinced this was more of a side-effect of whatever Masters was manipulating in the town itself. Water pollution perhaps, or some other environmental problem.

Except, they had followed up on that hypothesis, calling in several national agencies to scan for unusual readings in the area. Every single report came back clean, being cleared by certified government agents. No water contamination, no atmospheric contamination, no food safety violations. Nothing except a near-total media blackout on a small, midwestern town that no one else seemed to care about.

Since then, the only updates to the case were Masters’ financial records, which he now kept a close eye on. Masters himself hardly travelled anymore, remaining a recluse in his re-built mansion and only making public appearances every few months. And the Fentons’, the parents of the missing child, had seemingly abandoned their home town after losing their house. They were by no means off the grid—Oracle had tracked them moving all across the country via credit card purchases and the like, but they never re-visited Amity. Or, their daughter, for the matter, who still lived in Chicago.

Bruce rubbed at his temple. That particular case was long cold, being about four years old now. Hundreds of other cases had come and gone in the meantime. It didn’t make it better.

And yet, it still struck him how the case of an average, small-town missing teenager and a suspicious mayor brought up the same feelings of frustration that this current case did. Every lead they had followed back then came up empty, just as every search now into the Unknown magic-user with white hair was only leading them to more dead ends.

Batman scrolled back in the video feed to when the Unknown had briefly made eye-contact with the recording phone camera, when he first realized he was visible, wearing an expression of open shock. He studied the Unknown’s face, the grainy but still visible green eyes, the smooth, young-looking features. He had pointed ears, sticking out from long, unruly hair and a skin-tone that hovered on blue-gray. Specks of white scattered across his face like iridescent freckles. Batman wondered if the theory of “alien” had any merit to it after all, except the League had been very diligent about tracking down any reports of objects broaching the planet’s atmosphere, so that was unlikely.

The Unknown did look otherworldly, but he certainly wasn’t a meta. A meta-human would have had their powers replicated by Amazo, but that hadn’t happened. So there had to be magic involved.

Bruce sighed, rubbing his eyes once more, and drank his cold tea in the expansive silence of the cave.

Chapter Text

As soon as the portal closed behind him, Danny let out an enraged howl. He screamed into the green void of the Infinite Realms until he was heaving with exertion. Still, the anger didn’t die down. He was shaking and knew his eyes burned with ectoplasmic rage.

He turned to a random floating chunk of island before flying forward in a burst of speed and shattering the innocent boulder to pieces. Several more followed. He didn’t even bother to use his powers, he just wanted to hit something. He found a particularly robust piece of island and landed to punch the ground, hearing it crack with every hit. Again, and again, and again— he knew his knuckles would be bleeding if he were human. His ghostly form though healed as quickly as it was damaged, surrounded by pure ectoplasm for energy. He would change back to a human now, if he wouldn’t just pass through everything in the Realms. Fuck. What do I want right now? 

He wanted to destroy something. The thought almost scared him, which made him pause his assault. But then the anger, the indignation, kicked back in immediately and he brought his fist back to punch at the ground with all his power. It shattered, of course, flying out beneath him in pieces, leaving him floating amongst nothing. Nothing significant.

He still felt the boiling rage beneath his skin. He screamed, damn-near clawing at his own arms in an attempt to ground himself. He clenched and re-clenched his fists—not enough—before raking his hands through his long hair and pulling hard at the scalp.

“Fuck!”

He saw another unobtrusive piece of stonework, this one with bits of ghostly plants and moss growing over it. He flew towards it, only feeling bad for a split second, before he punched it into oblivion. It didn’t break in the satisfying way he hoped it would, instead barreling off in the opposite direction, but the ghostly moss and vegetation froze into an icy block at his touch. He felt a cool breath leave him, feeling ice start to crawl up his arms. He needed an outlet.

“Fuck!”

His hands were shaking, he felt like…like doing something stupid. Stupid like going back and blowing every white-suited asshole into their own miserable afterlife, see how they like it—

Stupid fucking GIW. But that would also mean… Dealing with…

Don’t think about them.

He brought both hands up to his eyes, pressing in, trying to erase the feeling of having his face blown clear through. He curled inward, floating aimlessly as he tucked himself smaller. Tears came unbidden and he wiped them away furiously. He opened and closed his mouth a few times to confirm it was still there. It had been—he couldn’t describe it. He was missing his face, he had tried to scream or clench his jaw to block the pain, but all he could feel where it should have been—hollow and exposed—the ectoplasm burned away— Ancients, that had hurt—fuck-fuck-fuck—

“Ancients-damned!” he cursed again, screaming incoherently. He could feel a wail start to build in his chest but he shoved it down. I’m fine-I’m fine- get it under control Danny.

He tried to breathe deeply but it wobbled in his chest. Tension started to build behind his eyes as he tried to hold back his tears once more.

I’m not fine.

He wailed, sending the supersonic sound of his raw, fucked-up voice out at nothing. Directions didn’t matter here anyways. Fuck physics.

He took a single breath, before releasing a second wail, “Fucking shiiiiit—” The wail made his voice high-pitched and unnaturally layered as he screamed. Why did everything suck? Why? Why couldn’t anything go right?  

Can’t live a normal human life, like Sam and Tucker. Can’t travel a normal half-ghost life, like Ellie. Can’t even save the fucking day, like a normal fucking superhero, without getting blown to bits.  

I just want to be left alone.

Finally the wail died down, ending in an anguished shout that wasn’t horribly ear-piercing but just as ragged. He truly felt exhausted now. He could feel the Ring cycling his ectoplasm, refueling from the fight and healing from earlier. The city’s ambient ectoplasm hadn’t been enough to fully heal his legs, but now he had more than enough. The Crown, which normally he phased out of the visible and ghostly spectrums, was damn-near bursting with his heightened emotions. He felt ice creeping up his arms, down his neck, causing his hair to stiffen with small icicles.

He felt like he was going to pass out. Or puke. Or rip out his hair. Or all the above. He clenched his jaw before wrapping his arms about himself in a self-hug, pulling harshly at his arms, trying to shake off the sick feeling. “G-gamma, al… alpha…” Danny thought for a minute he did pass out, but he pushed through it and got his nausea under control so he didn’t vomit. Vomiting in a Realm without gravity was generally a bad idea.

Danny just kept gasping for air that wasn’t there, but he chose to ignore that fact for now. He ignored the small voice wondering why he was getting vertigo in his ghost form, which didn’t really happen, instead focusing on his single grounding point—

“Gamma alpha upsilon,” he slowly let go so he wasn’t clawing at his skin, “tau iota m-mu epsilon,” he tried to recall the single hug Bruce gave him before they all went to battle, but all he could feel was emptiness.

“42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” he forced himself to finish, breathing through his nose. He felt exhausted. The only thing he could think of was finding somewhere to curl up and fade—except he didn’t get that luxury, he’d have to die again first. Dumb halfa Danny—no, no, I need to stop—he remembered his backpack just then. He reached through his ectoplasm, since it had been stored in his human form and therefore still with the other half, to yoink it into this dimension.

He forgot it was covered in ash and dirt but he didn’t really care—he pulled out the scribble hoodie and held it close, crying cold tears into it, before forcing the ice to melt and reverse back into normal ectoplasm. “Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon.” It wasn’t the words themselves, but the order and the cadence that brought him comfort. The feeling of those words as he spoke them, the knowledge of them existing. He made so sure he’d never forget them. To lose his chance at the reconnecting with the only other people who had ever accepted him. “42 63 28 1 colon—” Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? “—65 dash 9.”

So much had happened.

And he didn’t want to think about why their weapons were becoming more painful. More precise.

More dangerous.

He continued to float, letting time pass in a blur. Time, physics, space… none of it mattered in the Realms. Maybe nothing mattered.

Maybe he didn’t matter either.

That thought sent another wrecked sob through him, muffled in the soft fabric. “Gamma, alpha, up-upsilon—” he began to whisper again, when he heard a noise.

“Uhhh, lil’ dude? You done blowing things up now?”

Danny’s head popped up from where he had buried it in hoodie pillow—just to see Johnny poking his head out from behind a non-destroyed rock with purple mushrooms growing on it. He seemed genuinely nervous.

“What?” Ancients, his voice was shot. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He glared like it was a challenge. He was allowed to be mad sometimes.

Danny had gotten used to his rogues (heh, they were his friends now but he still liked to call them his rogues) following him around the Realms years ago. Clockwork had said something about their ectoplasm being drawn to his after taking the Crown, since they were no longer attracted to the portal’s energy in Amity. Energy pathways and some other weird stuff. He remembered thinking it sounded like the way the brains’ neural pathways grew stronger with use, and how proud Jazz would have been for recalling such a fact.

Johnny stepped out from behind the cover, cocking a tight smile and leaving his motorcycle parked upright. He flew over, putting a hand on Danny’s back comfortingly.

“Hard day?”

The motorcycle revved softly, and Danny chuckled lightly, wiping his face.

“I guess.”

“Wanna come grab a drink with us?”

Danny tilted his head. “Depends. Who’s ‘us’?”

He didn’t really have the energy to deal with Boxy at the moment. Or any of his mentors. He didn’t need a lecture right now.

Johnny snorted. “Me ‘n Kitty, Ember, and Skulks. The usual. Oh, and Cujo, he came running when the portal opened.”

Danny perked up a bit. He could use a good Cujo hug at the moment.

“Yeah sure, why not.” He paused. “Wait, did you say get a drink?”

“Yeah?” Johnny got up with him as Danny rubbed at his face, walking over to the bike while stuffing the hoodie back into the filthy backpack. “Why?”

Danny mentally tried to file through all of the interactions he’s had with ghost food before. Nothing he’d seen had implied the existence of ghostly alcohol. But he supposed it made sense.

“Huh. Just curious.” Danny climbed onto the bike after Johnny, feeling the motorcycle revv again, but excited this time. “Good bike.” He patted it, and it zoomed forward happily before Johnny had a chance to grab the handlebars.

After both getting thrown off the back of it to land in a pile, it had taken them a few minutes of laughing too hard before they were able to remount. Danny was starting to feel a bit lighter.

While flying was fun, Danny had ridden on Johnny’s bike a few times and it was just as exhilarating. Kitty had suggested the idea a few years back, since the rogues had been focused at one point on trying to find him new hobbies. He never got to the point where he wanted his own, even after learning how to ride solo, ‘cause you know, flying (it never got old), but it had still been fun to learn. And now he was just chilling, not really holding on since he could manipulate his density to stay seated either way (well, now that he was focusing), so he just let the ectoplasmic breeze whip his hair around, tilting his head back to enjoy the feeling.

They pulled up to a stop at a new place Danny hadn’t been to before—it was slate gray but mostly covered in brightly-colored graffiti. A few ghosts were hanging out on the outside, going wide-eyed when they saw Danny hop off Johnny’s motorcycle. He ignored the ogling, hating how much he stood out sometimes. Get crowned a King once and the novelty never wore off, apparently.

He barely had time to assess the rest of the building before he was suddenly tackled harshly backwards, causing him to flail instinctually. The slobber suddenly coating his face though, was the only answer he needed.

“Cujo! Cujo, down, ew, down, boy!” He started giggling when Cujo ignored his direct orders, hopping up excitedly and licking Danny’s face. He could hear the other ghosts laughing at him, waiting for things to calm down. He saw Ember’s and Skulker’s matching flames dance out of the corner of his eye, and Kitty walk up to Johnny to give him a peck on the cheek.

Finally, once he had his fill of wrestling, Cujo seemed to calm down as Danny continued to give him an enormous number of pets to assure the hound that yes, he did have Danny’s complete attention, and yes he was very lovable, while continuing to try to wipe his face with his shoulder. When Cujo was satisfied with reuniting with his owner, Danny picked him up and gave him the biggest squeeze-hug he could manage. He didn’t need to worry about hurting Cujo, which made it easier. Ghost dogs were the best.

He finally looked over to the rest of his friends, grinning.

“Hey there, punk,” Ember nodded with a grin of her own, coming over to sling an arm around his shoulder.  “Ready to get fucked up?”

“Uhh, yeah about that, maybe not completely fucked up?” Danny had never been drunk before. He had tried a tasty-sounding cider once about a year ago, only to find his half-ghost body felt no affect. He hadn’t felt adventurous enough to try any harder liquors. But ghost alcohol? That was sure to work.

“Why? It’s not like it’ll give you a hangover or anything.” No such thing as a ghostly hangover then, good to know.

They started making their way to the front, Danny still holding Cujo in his arms.

“Doesn’t mean I have to go hard off the bat,” he countered, laughing.

“Not everyone enjoys getting blackout, love.” Skulker piped in from behind in his deeper, metallic voice. Ember turned, pulling Danny with her, to stick her tongue out at him.

“Kid needs a break though,” Kitty added pointedly, and Danny gave her a weird look.

“We heard the wail,” Johnny responded to his unspoken question.

Oh.

Danny blushed, feeling embarrassed. That was why he had come?

“Excuse me, sir, but you can’t have your dog ins—” the ghost who greeted them pulled up short, staring at Danny with a shocked expression before dropping immediately into a bow.

Danny groaned.

“My apologies, your Majesty. Please, come in. Feel free to find a table anywhere.”

Danny actually didn’t choose, but was instead dragged over towards a back corner. His rogues knew him well. Away from crowds. The place was fairly large and maybe half-full. He was grateful no one else seemed to notice his presence yet. The lighting was dim, though flashing periodically. There was music playing from somewhere, but not the deafening kind Danny had expected.

For being the King of the Realms, Danny hadn’t actually explored much of it. Being infinite and all, it was hard to keep track of everything, but he was fairly certain he had never been in this region before. Roughly east-coast North America-ish Realms was not an area he had spent much time in.

There was a flurry of drinks and movement, and that’s how Danny found himself sitting at the edge of a curved bench spot with four of his former enemies, Cujo in his lap, and holding a shot of off-colored ectoplasm in a tiny cup. Oh, the irony of it all. Turned tables and whatnot. They used to all beat each other up, and now they still all beat each other up but for fun (brawling was awesome). His rogues were all squished together to where the five of them were all semi-facing each other. Danny liked to be on the outside of the seats—he got claustrophobic easily. Not in a real phobia kind of way, but he didn’t like the trapped-feeling he got with people surrounding him. Even if they were his friends. It was dumb.

There was a lot to take in at the bar. There were abstract paintings covering most of the wall in vivid colors. There was an empty stage and a half-dozen mini blob ghosts acting as helper-cleaners. Most of the other ghosts were at least trying to be respectful by keeping their distance, but many kept glancing his way, some in awe and some in what could have been fear. It was nice most of them were too his back, and even nicer he didn’t have to worry about keeping a look-out over his shoulder. The barkeep was a tall, broad-shouldered ghost with a braided purple beard and colorful tattoos that matched the décor. He also had tall horns that poked out the curls of his hair, which was badass. Maybe Danny would get adventurous with his own ghost form one day. Most of the other patrons were in small groups or drinking alone, pondering their afterlives.

Danny turned back to the four ghosts at the table with him, noting how all of their eyes glowed brighter in the weird, purple-ish lighting. His probably did, too. He sat the cup down without drinking it.

Ember downed her first shot in one go. Johnny had swallowed his own shot before taking a larger cup from a blob ghost that was overflowing with foam. Kitty, and surprisingly Skulker, both held wine glasses.

Now that they settled in, they were all chatting quietly while waiting for him to be ready to socialize. He sighed, tipping sideways to lean against Ember’s shoulder. She leaned in, resting her head on his. He could feel the warmth of her fire-hair flickering against his, but it didn’t hurt.

“You holdin’ up okay, babypop?”

He grunted noncommittedly.

“Wanna talk about it, or just get plastered?”

He wrinkled his nose. “What’s even in this?” It was bright, neon purple and bubbling like champagne. It had to be a hard liquor to be in a shot glass though, right? Or maybe not, ghosts made their own rules.

“I dunno,” she laughed. “Ectoplasm.”

He rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see it. “You wouldn’t say?”

“There’s non-alcoholic stuff, whelp,” Skulker offered gruffly, seeming to notice how he didn’t want his and signaled to the barkeep. He smirked suddenly at how mellow Skulker had become over the past few years, thinking back to when he had been promising to hang Danny’s ‘pelt’ on a wall. Or shooting at any ghost who even glanced wrong in his direction.

Danny watched the little blob ghosts floating around, sucking up empty cups into their ectoplasmic bodies and balancing filled cups on their heads to carry to guests. One blobby brought Danny a cup of red-colored goo. It had a little umbrella in it. He laughed, taking it and patting the blob affectionately. It squealed and tuttered off.

Cujo barked, and he quickly amended the offence by patting his head too. He straightened to sniff at the drink and Ember took the opportunity to snag his shot, downing it just as quickly. Damn.

Kitty was giving him sad eyes, and he tilted his head in question.

“You sounded pretty upset, doll,” Kitty said simply, her brow furrowed. “Were the humans bothering you again?”

He sighed, resting his head on the table without taking a drink. “Yeah.” The spikes on his shoulder pads were pressed against his ears and he shifted so they didn’t get poked. Usually he moped in his hoodie.

She gave Johnny a look, and he shrugged. He would have laughed if he weren’t so depressed. Ghosts were really bad at being subtle.

“You know,” Skulker swirled his glass before taking another sip, “you could easily annihilate them. It would be well deserved.”

Danny’s eyes hardened, not looking at any of them, but he didn’t respond. They all thought he was the most powerful ghost in the Realms, undefeatable. But he knew better. He knew how quickly he had been beaten. The mental image of the cell, coated in his green blood from leaking wounds, came to mind and he blinked several times to make it go away, shifting to bury his head in his arms more comfortably.  

“We could help!” Ember added enthusiastically, nearly bouncing in her seat “I’d love to rip those dipshits a new one. Blow out their eardrums and beat ‘em to a pulp! We could destroy them!” She held her fists up, her brilliant blue hair flaring up so it was nearly touching the ceiling. Danny really liked the look of fire cores. They were pretty.

It briefly reminded him of Dan, with white, flaming hair himself. Danny quickly regretted the comparison—Ember was his friend and nothing like his evil tyrant self from the future. He numbly tapped the cup to let a bit of frost form around it as a distraction.

Kitty’s eyes flickered to his finger, and she clicked her tongue in admonishment. “You know that’s not the kid’s style, firefly.” She also flicked Skulker’s arm for the suggestion with a dull ringing sound. He rubbed his arm, offended, even though he was twice her size and made of ecto-steel so it couldn’t have hurt.  

Kitty herself was glowing very brightly. He wondered if that was the alcohol or it was just the dimmer lighting. She had a light core, which really paired well with Johnny’s shadow core. Danny thought it was cute in a sappy, poetic kind of way. Johnny was holding his ecto-beer with the same hand as a cigarette, which Danny was pretty sure was only out of habit from being alive. Ghosts didn’t get withdrawals. Or maybe he just enjoyed the burning ectoplasm as a sensation.

“I’m sorry,” Ember calmed down, ruffling his hair to try and lift the mood. “We’re just…” she pursed her lips.

“Worried,” Johnny supplied.

“Angry,” Skulker added.

Kitty toasted to that sentiment.

Danny did chuckle a bit at the antics, wondering for a second if that would work or not, but then the thought of him leading a small ghost army to the human world to conquer his foes distinctly made him think Pariah and he sobered quickly.

You know what? He was in fact, too sober for this.

He finally picked himself off the table to take a sip of the red ectoplasm.

It vaguely reminded him of summer, but otherwise the taste was indistinguishable. Weird. He had tried assorted foods and beverages from his tutoring sessions with Dora or his trainings with Pandora, so he knew they consumed emotions. Maybe this flavor was joy? Either way, it made him nostalgic. 

He looked over to where the barkeep was of course, keeping a discreet eye on him (and though he hated the ghosts’ deference to his presence most of the time, sometimes it was nice). “Could I get this mixed with something else, please?”

“Oooo cocktail!” Ember cheered, and the others laughed approvingly.

“It would be my pleasure, your—” he stopped at Danny’s glare, instead bowing politely and turning to make the drink. Danny did not need the formalities right now. He was just a half-dead kid getting a drink, nothing more. He absently pet Cujo, who was now curled up sleepily on his lap.

“Ancients, that gets old…” Danny muttered. He didn’t want to offend the ghost, who was only trying to be respectful, but it was irritating.

“Dude, bro” Johnny started, “You seriously underestimate how much everyone here likes you.” He smiled encouragingly.  

Kitty nodded.

They all knew he was self-conscious about his role in the Realms.

“You got this, my man,” he continued, “Seriously, no one’s more suited for the job. Ghosts are actually enjoying things again with you around.”

“I’m not even King yet, not really.” It felt silly. He barely did anything of importance. Mostly he just listened to Clockwork and Dorathea and the Observants and signed the right paperwork. He tried to make sure he at least understood what he put his signature on, but all the bureaucratic BS really wasn’t his forte.

“You know,” Ember started again, “there’s nothing stopping you from—”

“Staying in the Realms? Yeah I know, Ember.” He sighed again. They had all suggested that to him so many times. He didn’t like the idea.

“You wouldn’t be hunted,” Skulker pointed out. “You’d be comfortable. Your Realm would actually get to know you more.”

“Yeah,” Ember continued, “wouldn’t gawk so much if their oh-so-mighty King made a presence more than every few months.” She nudged his shoulder. “Plus, we miss you too, babypop.”

He smiled at her, though it was small. “I know, I know. It’s just…” I’m not dead yet. That wouldn’t be right to say though. There was nothing wrong with being dead. And it wasn’t that anyways. “I’ll get the Realms forever, eventually, you know? I just want to be allowed to live a little. Be by myself until I have to rule for a few hundred years, or however long it takes for some poor soul to win the throne.” He never spent too much time thinking of how long he might have to exist after he died. He knew being a ghost wasn’t a bad thing, but he didn’t know if his friends—his human friends—would be around or not. The idea of outliving Sam and Tucker and Jazz—nope, abort, red alert—

He was blessedly distracted by the same little blob ghost swirling over to their table with a chirp, balancing another purple shot glass and his requested cocktail. Ember took the shot, seemingly a pro at this, and Danny carefully took his drink. It was a magenta now, but bubbling. Cool.

Danny, because he was sitting near the edge and because they were kind of cute, patted it again. It glowed happily with a trill. The drink was good. Still, the flavor eluded him. Reminded him of discarded backpacks and swimming pools and the joy of freedom. Yeah, fuck it, time to get drunk.

“We get it, don’t worry Danny,” Kitty assured him. “Trust us, we won’t really push your boundaries. We just want you to be okay.” She smiled, and it did make him feel better.

He smiled a bit more, feeling lighter as he took another drink. “I know.” Warm skies and dewy grass. The wind in his face. “And I like seeing you guys too. Y’all are basically certified Team Phantom members at this point.” He grinned playfully.

“Ghost hunters?” Skulker questioned doubtfully, making a face.

“Ghost protectors,” he corrected. “None of the gang hunts ghosts anymore, you know that. I only use the thermos to get rid of the pesky ones who don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. But my friends are cool—they help keep me safe.”

And seriously, they did. Tuck was constantly updating their four-way phone connections and remotely kept tabs on the GIW—the best he could at least. They were, much to their collective chagrin, improving, and they had seriously bulked up their cybersecurity. Sam was literally majoring in fuck-the-government on his behalf. Jazz was as always, doing her thing. Working to find better ways to help others. Helping him navigate this lifestyle, making sure he had the resources he needed. They all did their best to be there for him.

“Sounds kind of tiring honestly,” Johnny smirked, finishing his beer and taking another drag, blowing the smoke upwards. Kitty was leaning heavily against him, seeming content, but elbowed his ribs with a grin.

“Whatever, whelp,” Skulker said, rubbing a hand through his flamed mohawk, “I will accept, only so that I am the one who has the honor of killing you.”

They all laughed.

“Sounds gay, I’m in.” Ember immediately looked to him, grabbing his shoulder to stare intensely towards him. “Did I use that right?”

Danny cackled.

◇◆◇

They spent some time chilling at the bar. Danny had a few more drinks. He thinks he understands the term ‘buzzed’ now. He was tingly and kind of giddy. A little light-headed. The shots of literal joy in the mix definitely helped bring back some fonder memories and he found himself more and more relaxed. Ember was floating up on the stage now, singing and blasting her hard rock themes among the bar. Skulker was watching admiringly but Johnny had fallen asleep, his head tilted back comically—straight out of a cartoon—meaning it was just him and Kitty chilling now.

“Feelin’ better, sugars?”

“Yeah,” he scooted over to give Kitty a side hug. “Thanks. I was about to go into a depression spiral or something, before.” She squeezed his shoulders, popping a light kiss on his head. They let go to watch Ember. Her voice was truly mesmerizing.

Cujo had woken up and was restlessly flying about the bar, snatching food away from patrons who were distracted by the performance. Danny, and the barkeep too, noticed but neither of them said anything.

When she finished the chord, several of the ghosts cheered and some threw materialized flowers. She literally glowed with all the attention. She was smiling at Skulker, who was clapping, and winked. Danny shook his head, laughing at the exchange. Ancients, ghosts were softies sometimes.

Ember made her way back over, panting and looking exhilarated. Her hair was blazing wildly and she grabbed Skulker into a quick kiss before sliding into the booth.  

“Woo! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” She took 2 shot glasses and downed them back-to-back before cheering again. Danny was on his third or fourth drink, taking it considerably slower. He was having fun though, even more at seeing his friends have a good time. Catching a ghost annoyingly swat Cujo away from an ecto-chicken leg though, before guiltily looking over in Danny’s direction, made him move to get up.

“I think I’ll head out,” he announced, whistling Cujo over. He ran up excitedly, panting and wagging his tail.

“Already?” Ember asked, pulling away from her side-chat with Kitty. Johnny was still zonked.

“Yeah, I think Cujo needs some exercise. I kind of want to stretch my legs too, though.”

“Want company?” Kitty asked, resting her head on her hand and shaking Johnny awake with the other.

“Huh? Whu’s goin’ on?”

“I’m good,” he laughed. Really, he was feeling much better. “Gonna think of where to go next, but I think a walk sounds nice.” Fly, whatever. Physics was for losers anyways. “I’ll see you guys soon though, next time they come shooting.” The joke didn’t seem as scarily-too-close-to-home as it did usually. “We should do this again though, this place rocks!” He took the last bit of the magenta summer drink and toasted to the owner, who bowed graciously, before finishing the drink. He handed it to a blobby who engulfed it with a thwarp.

“Alrighty, babypop,” Ember got up to hug him, lifting him in the air as she did. “You let us know if you need us, kay?”

“Will do,” he grinned. She sat him down.

Cujo was still sitting by his feet, tail wagging expectantly.

“Who’s a good boy?!”

Cujo barked and began to run in circles.

“Wanna go on a walk? How’s about a walk?”

Cujo went superspeed.

Danny laughed, making his way carefully to the exit with one last wave to the rogues. Yeah, he had some good friends.

◇◆◇

Outside again, Danny had swapped into his scribble hoodie for comfort and was taking a pleasant stroll with Cujo, who was ecstatic. He was running around at impossible speeds, barking with joy whenever Danny threw a materialized ball for him to fetch. Or shred. Whichever suited his mood.

It was nice to take a break like this. He still felt the buzz of the ecto-alcohol and absently pulled out his Foley phone to shuffle a playlist—oo, celtic rock, yeah that would work. He took the time to check over the electronics while he was at it—he wasn’t Tuckerbell for sure, but he knew his way around machinery. Getting caught underneath that building had been nasty luck. Sure he couldn’t help there being a villain attack, but talk about terrible timing.

He suddenly realized he had never eaten breakfast, or lunch for the matter, but luckily didn’t feel that hungry. He had some snacks in his bag, but it was no problem waiting to get back, either.

After taking the phone apart and checking for damages, breaks, or loose wires, he reassembled it and silently thanked Tuck for making the most explosive-resistant device possible. Cool. One less thing to worry about.

Cujo barked again to get his attention, and he grinned to materialize a new ball for him. Cujo however, didn’t give chase. He was looking instead towards a darker mass of ectoplasm ahead, signaling a ghost’s territory. Danny whistled and Cujo came running over before leaping up for Danny to catch him in his arms. He barked again, looking up at Danny with his cute red puppy eyes, and Danny nuzzled him before looking back to the dark mass.

He stood floating for a minute, thinking. He had definitely seen that lair before.

It hit him with a gasp, and he tentatively grinned at the realization. Old friends were great, why not visit a newer friend he had made as well? Well, new-ish, but a few measly years was nothing to an elder ghost like Lady Gotham.

Flying into the dark, thunderstorm clouds, Danny was hit with a weird sense of déjà vu. Last time he had come here was on Clockwork’s instruction to pass through her territory and into the future. Dan had begun his reign into the mortal realm by annihilating most of North America and making the ectoplasmic-rich city his primary domain. Since it was generally better to enter a ghost’s haunt with their permission, Danny had first come to meet the personification of Gotham herself. Dan had nearly caused Lady Gotham to fade, who ended up only surviving off the ecto inputs from mass slaughter in her city. It had been grim.

Danny hesitantly floated in deeper, feeling the roiling thunder beat around him. Despite being a friend, Lady Gotham was quite the terrifying ghost at the height of her power. He had no desire to offend her.

“Lady Gotham? I come bearing only pleasantries, if you’ll permit my presence here.”

He waited respectfully. Cujo, the good dog, was quiet too. Cujo was what was annoyingly known as a ‘lesser’ ghost, not having a core the same as most other Death-born ghosts. Since Cujo was far more vulnerable than Danny was in this way, he kept a tight hold on the hound. Lady Gotham was not a malicious ghost per se, but uninvited visits didn’t typically happen in the Realms.

Slowly, the clouds thinned, and the tall, skyscraper height of the dark Lady came to view.

“I do hope you come bearing little else, considering the last time you came unto my domain.” Her cold, sonorous voice echoed about him like a chant.

Despite her serious words, he could hear the slightest lilt of amusement in them. 

He bowed, as was proper for a visiting ghost in another’s territory, before rising with a smile.

“It would be the highest of crimes to bring anything but my greetings to your doorstep.” He continued to mentally track the formal conversation exchanged between ghosts, careful not to speak out of turn. He was not to move on from a given topic until the hosting ghost did so first.

She hummed thoughtfully. He could see the bottom of her face, with her blood-red lips curved into the slightest of smiles. Tears of blood fell down her cheeks in smooth, un-broken lines of red, but otherwise her face was unblemished. “Crime does not scare me, young King. It is ill tidings I cannot abide.” She laughed, and it sounded as if razors had been scraped across her throat.

“Then it is good that no tidings come, neither good nor ill.” He smiled up at her and he saw her mirror the gesture wanly.

Her upper face was completely obscured by darkness. Danny had never seen her eyes, but he could still feel her piercing gaze. It had once scared him, but now he knew it was simply her way—she held herself in a serious, regal manner that he deeply respected. Her large frame was mostly concealed in the darkness, but she was at least thrice the size of the largest Yeti he had met. Dark clouds curled about her shoulders, which were decorated with golden metal ornaments, stark against her pale skin. Her dress was long satin in black that faded to gray at her ankles. Despite the weeping blood, the most noticeable trait though were the enormous, folded bat wings resting behind her, reminding him of the gargoyles which guarded the skies of Gotham. Gold bracelets chimed when she moved her hands to rest on her lap, and thunder rolled lowly as she did so.

“So, Uniter of the Realms. What ‘pleasantries’ do you wish to impart?”

“Only the casual kind of one passing by,” he assured her. “I have watched your city through the lens of the living and wished to make sure all was as it should be.” He would rather say he wanted to make sure all was well, but he knew Gotham was always in some state of turmoil.

“It is,” she said simply. She smiled again, never showing teeth. “Is that all you wish to ask of me? You will recall that I swore a favor to you, for returning my city to me.”

Danny gave a genuine smile. It had been necessary, his work in the future. He expected no thanks for it—if anything, he was glad not to be held accountable for his future-half-self’s actions. Some ghosts were scarily good at holding grudges. Several lifetimes of eternity did that to some. Others, luckily such as Lady Gotham herself, were more reasonable.

Not all the elder ghosts approved of his rise to Kingship, but there were truly more than Danny could realistically keep track of. He just made sure to remember the ones who really hated him so he could avoid them. Lady Gotham was the exception—no ghost, especially an elder, had ever claimed to owe him a favor.

“There is nothing I can think to ask of you, if I’m being honest, my Lady.”

She raised her hand at an angle, her expression serious once more—a question, but not one Danny knew how to interpret. He tried to re-phrase in ghost speak.

“My apologies. I deeply appreciate the offer of a favor, Lady Gotham. It is just that I do not know what request I would make at this time.”

She sighed, seeming to understand.

“I see, my King. Well, if you need aid in identifying such a favor—may I offer you sanctuary in my city?”

Danny blinked, his brain not processing that bit, leaving him blue-screening for a second.

“—I’m sorry?”

Fuck, that was rude of me. Damn ghosts and their formal fucking speech, it was so hard to keep up with sometimes. He frantically tried to recall some of Dora’s instructions on how to respond to Earth-born, who of all ghosts were notoriously specific in their ways. Never having experienced living, they held the highest of standards for ghost customs. He took a deep, settling breath. “Er—my apologies, Lady Gotham—I mean, I’m not sure I understand?”

Thank the Ancients, she seemed to find this amusing. She brought a hand to her chest as she laughed lowly, the sound harsh and raspy against the lightning which cracked to life once more.

“Oh, little King, such a young soul, you are.” She shifted to cross her hands back in her lap. “I would offer the sanctuary of my city as my favor to you. In truth, I would consider such a request to be a small one, but one I think you may find valuable at this time and indeed sufficient to fulfill the requirements of my debt.”

Danny tried really, really hard to figure out if he was understanding this correctly. He shifted his weight back and forth, thinking.

“Your city, as in, Gotham of the mortal plane?”

She smirked, and he would have found it terrifying if not for her graciousness up until now. Her bloody tear-tracks dripped to disappear into the black of her dress. “Certainly not as in my territory of the Realms. My beautiful, dreary city, though, would befit someone of your status quite well.”

Danny nearly cringed but held himself together. Did she mean his status as King, or of a ghost being hunted? Nearly all the Realms by now knew of his… predicament. Danny’s brow furrowed though as he considered her words. “What do you mean by sanctuary? I am not safe anywhere in the mortal world, I’m afraid.” Bitterness came back with a sting and he had to clench his jaw to avoid the frown that came with it. It would not be proper to show open dismay at her idea.

She hummed to thunder booming in the distance. “Oh, King Phantom, by sanctuary, I mean sanctuary.” The switch to ghost speak made it clear she meant it to mean complete safety. It was impossible to lie in ghost speak, as it was the language of raw emotion.

Danny’s brow furrowed deeper. “Is that… within your power?” He paused, worried about the word choice being seen as offensive, but he hadn’t heard of a power like that before. “It is just that, the people who hunt me—they are powerful and know how to follow the signature of my ectoplasm. The signature, er, is like a scent they can follow. I cannot exist in any one place without endangering those near me, as they will eventually sniff me out.”

“I see you have not interacted with many of my kind before,” she said, and that would be correct. Personifications of places were a very rare kind of ghost—Earth-born ghosts formed when the strong emotions of many humans gave birth to a new ghost. What made it uncommon was that the emotions needed to be strongly inclined to a particular feeling or they would disperse. Most places didn’t have a uniform emotion strong enough to consolidate into a stable core. Danny wondered what emotion drove Lady Gotham into existence. Probably misery…

“Under my sanctuary,” she continued, “protected by my haunting, I can conceal your essence within the city.”

Danny was… stunned. His mouth fell open before he remembered not to be rude, and clamped it shut. Still though, he could not find any words.

Sanctuary? Like, true sanctuary? Safety? She could actually hide him? How?

“How… how would you do so, if I may ask?” His voice was faltering, but it sounded…too good to be true, if he were being honest. “I’ve been told by Clockwork and the other Ancients that my powers are now far greater than they used to be—it has made it easier for them to find me. I’m too… recognizable. I usually only venture out as a human to slow them, but they have improved their technology, so…” Some of that fear, that anxiety, from before was creeping back in more, and it was getting harder to hold it together. Cujo whimpered quietly, either out of his own dose of fear or concern for Danny’s emotional state, and licked Danny’s hand comfortingly.

She hummed again and her wings shifted behind her, agitated. Shit. “Mortal technology is no comparison to my power.” Thunder rumbled again, deep and ominous. “While it is granted that yours are greater than mine, I have the benefit of a considerable haunt within my control. It is my understanding that your haunt no longer exists, little King.”

He swallowed nervously, nodding. It still hurt to think about. It had hurt to leave Amity even before he understood why it had felt like part of his soul had been ripped away.

“Under my haunt, my power is all-encompassing. There is an abundance of spare ectoplasm in my city. Many beings of the Realms dwell under my control, and my protection. It would not be a difficult task to hide yours in the fray.”

“I… I see…” The world felt like it was spinning. He could hide in a city controlled by ghosts? Since when? Why hadn’t anyone told him that before? Unless she was wrong, maybe? The Crown and the Ring greatly amplified his ghostly signature, so it was possible she was underestimating that factor. Lady Gotham seemed content to wait for his response though, not ushering him in either tone or movement.

“Um, hold on, I’m sorry, er—” he took another deep breath, thinking fast. This couldn’t be true. Right? He gave Cujo a small squeeze. “I—I greatly appreciate such an offer, Lady Gotham. Such a generous invitation would be… extremely welcome.” He took another shuddering breath, trying to settle his suddenly tense nerves. “Would it be acceptable if I were to summon a member of my council to your territory as a consultation?”

Despite her eye-less form, it was obvious she could see right through him.

A second passed before a half-smile seemed to shimmer across her face. Oh good, please don’t smite me. It wouldn’t kill him, but it’d be pretty embarrassing. Plus, if this is what I think it is…

“Do as you wish, Conqueror of Tyrants. You are no master to me.”

Danny bowed respectfully. “I am grateful for your permission, Lady.” He would seriously have to thank Dora later—he’d never been in such a complicated conversation before. He’d probably get a headache after he left today.

Danny turned to focus on an empty space next to him and concentrated on drawing the memorized sigil in his mind. Each layered piece had to be meticulously placed and cemented before adding new symbols onto the increasingly complex circle. Once it was constructed, he waved his hand across the space before him and thrusted power into the casting to initiate the summon. The sigil appeared in white symbols before flaring to a stark purple hue. From the center of the circle, the Fright Knight rose in full armor, as always. Purple and black flames danced ominously as he looked to Danny expectantly.

“My liege,” he greeted simply, holding his legendary sword point down at attention.

“Fright Knight,” Danny intoned back, offering a small smile. “My apologies for summoning you so abruptly.”

“It is of no consequence, your Majesty. I am always at your call. What is it you need of me?” His deep, booming voice rang out in a way that would have terrified him a few years ago (actually, it had).

“I was hoping you could clarify something for me. This is Lady Gotham, the Earth-born of Gotham City.” Danny held out an arm to indicate the massive form of the dread city. His Knight bowed respectfully.

“I believe we are acquainted, your Ladyship. I have viewed your city afar with a great deal of respect.”

She tapped her fingers curiously and stayed silent.

No shit? Damn, if Fright Knight respects her, that is pretty horrific. Danny’s visit to Gotham in the future had been so brief, it wasn’t like he had gotten the chance to get a feel for the city. Plus, how would he have known what was the existing bad parts of the city and what was the new bad parts of the city?

“I do require some insight as to your question, my liege.”

“Oh—yes. She says that—er, she can, mask my signature? My ghostly signature I mean. Or my essence? Is that correct?” He turned to the looming figure.

“I can offer protection in the way of his ectoplasmic energies. This way, the humans who follow him will not be able to sense his core within my place of haunting.” 

Danny looked to Frighty.

“That is within her power, my liege.”

Danny’s jaw went slack. “What?” He blinked several times, trying to recover. He was still a King after all, but he was also kind of drunk. And awe-struck. And exhausted. And—seriously, what the hell?

“Why did no one mention this to me until now? You mean I could’ve been hiding in a city with high enough ectoplasm levels this whole time? Or with another ghost’s presence to cover mine?”

The implications were staggering. Would he actually be to stay somewhere? Like, really stay? Settle, even?

“It is… not the kind of thing one can offer on another’s behalf, my liege. It is considered the highest of favors, and not one offered lightly. To host you, her Ladyship would be permitting you open access to her haunt. It is also true that not many ghosts would have the ability to make such an offer to one as powerful as you, your Majesty.”

Danny still was struggling to regain his composure. He turned to the elder ghost before him. “You… you would do that for me?” Danny felt his chest grow tight with the realization at what was happening.

“Why, of course, my King. You have done a great deed to the Realms, and a great deed for my city. Your actions prevented my own fading, and I know more than you may think of the task the Ancient of Time sent you to complete. Thus, I know how you have saved my own dark knights.” She smiled towards the Fright Knight, who bowed politely. “Even so, it would be an honor to provide such a royal sanctuary within the limits of my power.”

Danny briefly wondered if this had to do with ghostly bragging rights or something.

But mostly, he was completely shaken. Ancients, this was overwhelming. The idea of another ghost protecting him without endangering themselves never occurred to him. He hadn’t event thought it a possibility. He was supposed to be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms, and he couldn’t stop the GIW from following him. Which actually—

“Will my presence cause you harm, if I were to accept your offer?”

She laughed once more, sending a cacophony of lightning raining from above.

“No,” she finally said. “My city is aghast with many inferior ghosts’ presences. They swarm beneath me, not unlike ants to which I am the Queen. The ectoplasm which thrums throughout my city is plentiful and in constant churning,” Yikes, so that meant lots of death. But Danny guessed he knew that. “I will be able to shield your presence, rest assured.”

“Even… Even with the Ring? With portals? The portals, uh, release a lot of ectoplasm when they’re open.”

“Yes.”

Wow.

Danny fumbled in his haste to bow. “I am deeply, deeply grateful for both your kind words and gesture, my Lady.” And patience, honestly. He rose again. “I would be h-honored to stay in your city.” Danny was blinking quickly now, trying to hold back tears. This entire affair was completely overwhelming—he was barely able to process it right now.

She smiled, humming. “Consider it done, then.” She waved a hand, her gold tinkling, and the thunderstorm about her seemed to darken even further. “And consider my favor settled. I will make arrangements for your leaving and arrival.”

“Is there anything else I need to know? Like, if I were to need to leave again, can I come back? Can I open multiple portals?” He shifted his weight nervously. “I would die again before I would willingly bring you harm, my Lady.” He quickly switched to ghost speak, to make sure she knew he was being sincere. “I wish to protect all ghosts, even one as renowned as yourself.”

She smiled more broadly, causing the blood running down her face to crease. “You may leave and enter as often as you see fit. I can assure you that the unrest of my haunt is quite enough to eclipse the singular essence of your ectoplasm.”

He nodded, unable to speak immediately. He cleared his throat after a few seconds, before turning back to the Fright Knight who still waited, as diligent as ever. “Thank you for coming. I needed a second opinion. I appreciate your efforts, my Knight.” It was a bit cringe, but Frighty adored when Danny used his formal language, so he indulged the ghost for now.

Fright Knight literally glowed before slamming a fist to his chest with a clang of acknowledgement. “Of course, my liege! Please, call upon me again if you are in need! I will be your sword and your vengeance.”

Danny grinned only a little at the antics, but nodded his thanks, and the Knight bowed once more before vanishing in a cloud of purple mist, the sigil glowing once more before fading away. Finally, Danny turned back to Lady Gotham.

Holy shit… this was… really happening.

“My Lady,” he began once more, voice thick, “I cannot thank you enough.”

“That is alright, Conqueror. Meaning is more to me than words.” 

Danny couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not.

More clouds seemed to envelop her, signaling her own exit from the conversation.

Danny let out a deep breath. Holy shit. This was…going to take some getting used to. But then again… he’d be in Gotham. Where Bruce was. And the other Bats. He’d be able to stay there. Without endangering anyone. Maybe even… get to know them again. He could check in on Red Hood, see if his partial core had developed or not… or whether that event had occurred at all. He must’ve had a close brush with death to have a core formation, but Danny had never felt ectoplasm like that before either. All Danny knew was that something about it was off. He really hoped it wasn’t so bad in this time. 

He’d be able to meet them all for real, without the overhanging threat of worldly peril at stake. The thought made him dizzy with relief and exhaustion. He had been running for so long. So long…

 He floated out from the dark thunderclouds of Lady Gotham’s lair, holding Cujo tightly, before he broke down in tears.

◇◆◇

The hardest part of the whole ordeal was convincing Cujo he needed to stay put.

“Sit boy! Sit!”

Cujo listened, but was damn-near vibrating with the need to protest again.

“I’m sorry Cujo! You can’t come with me.” Danny crossed his arms, trying to look stern.

Cujo yapped, whining, and ran over to nuzzle Danny’s legs pleadingly.

“Noo! No, I’m sorry buddy.” Danny kneeled down to pet him, and Cujo whined once more. “I’m sorry! Look, I have no idea what to expect from this place okay? Lady Gotham said there were other ghosts that live here, and I don’t know if they’re nasty or not! Actually, given that it’s Gotham, they probably are.”

It was hard not to feel bad. Danny didn’t take Cujo out nearly as often as he should. Sure, he had the entire infinity of the Realms to run around, but still. Dogs liked to be with their owners. Danny was too scared of getting caught with him when the GIW showed up though, so he never let Cujo leave the Realms with him.  

Cujo growled, before stepping back and growing to his larger form—twice Danny’s own height and enough teeth to shred a man.

“I know, boy, you’re very big and scary.” He scratched big Cujo’s ears, who shrunk down again to run in circles. “But you gotta stay here. I’ll come back soon, I promise.”

Now that he didn’t need to worry about portals exposing his location (assuming it was really safe… he couldn’t really shake the paranoid feeling something would go wrong…), he’d be able to visit the Realms much more often. That should satisfy his friends, his dog, and the Council.

Danny grinned again, biting his lip and barely holding in his excitement.

Sure he had initially broken down a bit after his meeting with Lady Gotham, but it had been a lot to take in. He was trying to take Jazz’s advice of letting himself feel things more, but damn that shit sucked sometimes. He had just needed some time to cry for a while, just to get it all out. He was feeling better now, though. Ancients, this is exactly what he needed. A fuckin’ break.

Gotham! I’m actually going to Gotham! To live there!

Sure, most people would probably be scared as hell, but Danny, if anything, felt safer. He couldn’t wait to message his friends. The first thing he was doing was scheduling a meet-up. And Ancients, the Bats… He would seriously need to do some thinking on how he wanted to broach that particular topic. None of the Bat-clan, to his knowledge, had any experience with magical entities, and most humans couldn’t even see ghosts, so that would be one thing to figure out. Then, of course, there was the time-travelling. Oh, where to even begin with that bit?

“Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon 42 63 28 1 colon 65 dash 9,” he softly muttered.

Yeah, they had given him a code, presumably in case they needed to remain allies in a different time. It was smart. Wickedly smart. A very Bruce thing to do. But what constituted a need for allies? Did the world have to be in danger again? Would they assume the worst if he mentioned it—maybe it was a code for ‘the world almost ended, work with this guy so it doesn’t happen for real’ and signaled a major threat or danger. Damn Bruce and his mysterious “don’t have time to explain”-ness. Still, probably better not to pull any false alarms though, right? Batman’s paranoia was legendary.

So, yeah, Danny needed to think on it. He should probably have some sort of plan or explanation for when it came up. But Danny was excited to actually be able to bring it up with someone, soon, hopefully.

Maybe he could find an apartment? He’d need a job first though, he couldn’t blow through the emergency cash he had. The thought immediately made him grin. He hadn’t gotten a chance to decorate his own room since… well, high school.

Danny shook his head, not wanting to think about his childhood home. Begone, thoughts.

He snatched up Cujo into one last hug, giving him lots of little kisses on his little head, before setting him down. “Okay! Go play! Cause some chaos!”

Cujo didn’t run right away, instead sitting to wait for Danny. He sighed, smiling down at him, before raising his left hand to make a portal. He knew he’d already be within the city limits given his proximity to Lady Gotham’s lair.

He went invisible just as a precaution, but stepping through, he felt a bit like he was going back home.

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed, was that it was pouring. Buckets of rain. He was still in his ghost form, but once he turned back to human he’d be immediately soaked for sure. Awesome.

The second thing was that Cujo, predictably, tried to dash through the portal while it was open. Danny, knowing he would try this as he’s done countless times before, swiftly swooped to catch him mid-leap and held the dog like a baby against his chest.

Cujo whined, but Danny tried to give the sternest look of disapproval he could muster. Cujo whimpered again.

“Buddies. My good boy. No.” He kissed his forehead, ignoring Cujo’s attempts to wiggle free. “I promise, for real this time, I will let you come with me. After I survey the area. Cool?”

Cujo did not look appeased. Danny didn’t blame him.

“This could be dangerous, I’m serious Cujo.”

Cujo growled, and Danny huffed out a laugh. “Give me a few weeks and I pinky-promise double dog swear I’ll let you come visit, okay?” He set Cujo down, who looked despondent, but with one last look over his shoulder, obeyed, turning to cross back through the portal Danny had purposefully left open. Danny sighed as the portal closed, feeling the Ring burn with power. Damn. He wiped a couple tears away. Cujo was really good at making him feel guilty for this, every single time. But Danny couldn’t let anything happen to the pup, and Lady Gotham herself had said many ghosts haunted the city’s streets. It wasn’t safe. Not yet.

Given that he needed to get a feel for the area, he supposed it made sense to scout out the city as a ghost first. That way he could observe it in secret, to humans at least. But he should probably be careful about running head-first into a ghost’s potential territory. Sub-territory? Whatever. He had no idea how things worked here—which was part of the problem. But he had already opened a portal, and despite Lady Gotham’s and Fright Knight’s assurances otherwise, he was still a bit nervous about fully trusting this process. It was safer to wait and see that the portal didn’t attract the GIW before letting his ghostly signature run rampant throughout the city. Still, first he needed somewhere safe to transform.

Danny took a moment to actually take in his surroundings. The gray haze of heavy rain partially obscured his view, but he was definitely in the midst of the city proper, as he predicted. There were tall buildings all around him and a semi-busy street that cars occasionally zoomed past, splashing the sidewalks in dirty water. Danny grimaced, floating intangibly down the well-worn paths to somewhere less flooded. There weren’t many people out, but that wasn’t a surprise, given the weather. He eventually found an alley with a dead-end, sequestered on either side by a convenience store and a run-down apartment. Only some scattered lights indicated people lived there at all. Perfect. He floated down the alley towards the back exit of the convenience store where a small awning would partially protect him from the watery onslaught. After a quick look-around, he smiled to himself before forcing his shoulders relax as he carefully levelled his breathing. He closed his eyes, bracing for it—then he let the rings of light envelop him in a familiar surge of cold energy.  

Fucking Ancients—

He hissed, bringing a hand up immediately to rub at his eyes, but then flinched and pulled away when that only hurt the tender skin more. Honestly, Danny really should be used to the pain of post-fight transformations by now, but somehow, it always took him by surprise how much it hurt.

“Shit,” he breathed, beginning to fan his face rapidly as his eyes began to water. His ghost-half almost never felt pain from injuries after the initial blow, so it was always shocking how much was dulled out during the healing process.

Danny was suddenly brought back to the present time, away from the endless, timeless protection the Realms had lulled him into, to remember it was just a few hours prior he had been nearly crushed to death and shot twice by ecto-weapons. He began cataloguing injuries again, feeling out how much everything had healed from the renewed energy of fresh ectoplasm. His legs felt blissfully free of any pain, not even being stiff. His lower back and face though, burned like a motherfucker. The back of his head was throbbing with hot pain. Injuries from ecto-weapons, to his great disappointment but absolutely no one’s surprise, took the longest to recover from. He silently cursed the GIW’s name for the millionth time. 

Danny fumbled with the backpack to pull out an umbrella, opening it with a thwoop before throwing his hood up and pulling it as low as it would go to cover his eyes. A bit of the bright, neon green was in his field of view, providing some much needed serotonin in the form of a little blob ghost doodle that was wearing a birthday hat. The doodle was upside down, but still, much appreciated. His eyes were still watering and the tear streaks they left stung his cheeks. He took a deep, settling breath, before stepping out into the grimey alley and towards the small storefront, feeling the rain whip about him in a way that made the umbrella feel almost redundant.

Even just the twenty-odd paces to the door left him mildly waterlogged.

The harsh, LED lighting made him blink in contrast to the growing darkness around him. Around dusk then, good to know. What a great time to arrive in Gotham. He nodded once at the cashier who eyed him suspiciously as he made his way to the restrooms in the back.

He shoved open the door, throwing back his hood and dropping his backpack to the floor in a rush to get to the mirror.

Danny grimaced at the reflection. Ancients damned. He held the sink for support, clenching until his knuckles were white.

There was a giant red splotch of reddened skin centering his face like he was the target of the world’s worst game of laser tag. The burns had obviously healed considerably, since there weren’t blisters or that shiny texture to them, but it was still noticeable as hell. It could have passed for a natural discoloration probably, but it wasn’t quite smooth enough to pass. The circumference passed over both his eyes, around the temples, and down his cheeks to end below the mouth—marking the edges of where his face had been disintegrated.

Danny closed his eyes, leaning over the sink and breathing heavily. Don’t think about it, it’s fine, it’s healed, it’s fine—

He scrunched his nose as if to prove that fact to himself, but it hurt to crinkle the skin. At least pain meant it was there. He hesitantly touched the back of his head, feeling the tenderness there too. Danny guessed he was lucky his hair hadn’t been burnt off. He spent a few minutes just breathing, in and out slowly. I’m in Gotham, this will be good for me, I’m going to be happy, I’m going to heal—I can do this.

Finally he looked up again, nodding to himself. He removed the scribble hoodie, hanging it on the peg on the door instead of tossing it on the floor. It was probably disgusting in here, but he tried not to think about it. The shirt he had been wearing, a gray NASA tee, was torn in several places and similarly covered in dirt. His jeans were also ripped to shit, but that at least could be passed as a fashion statement. Yay, guess I’ll need some new clothes too. Damn that explosion. This shirt had been comfy. He pulled it off, tossing it in the trash, and turned to examine his back. Yep, there was a gnarly mark there too, roughly circular with uneven edges. These better not fucking scar. They wouldn’t even be cool looking like his Lichtenberg scars. Plus, a facial scar would be way too recognizable.

He sighed. He’d wait until the ghost was clear (heh) with the GIW before ramping up his healing. The Ring’s ecto-signature was merged with his and would definitely light him up, on the off-chance this plan didn’t work. He wanted to trust the other ghosts, he really did, but he couldn’t quite stamp down that ­run-away-now-they’re-coming-to-get-you feeling that had kept him alive for so long. Half-alive. Whatever.

Danny reached down to dig through the backpack and pull out his med kit. He sighed again when he realized it was leaving behind a pile of loosened dirt and blew his hair out of the way with a huff of annoyance. Everything he had needed a good wash, himself included. His hair was filthy. Actually—a weird idea came to him and he paused his rummaging to consider it. Well. Fuck it. I’ve done weirder. He grabbed up the stuff, backpack included, and walked intangibly out the wall and back into the empty alley where it was still raining in sheets.

Danny stood invisible, feeling silly but ignoring the feeling for now, as he let himself become tangible again so Gotham’s rain could wash away the dust and ash and sweat from the past week. It wouldn’t replace a proper shower, but it sure as hell was refreshing, save for the stinging bite of the rain hitting the burns. He lowered his head to give his face some reprieve, but continued to wait in the rain. The repetitive pelting against his back was actually kind of relaxing, so he let himself enjoy it for several more minutes. Finally he decided to raise up the backpack and try and wash off as much dirt from it as possible, then repeated it with the hoodie. Good as new. Once satisfied, he pulled on some power to go intangible once more, focusing on just letting the rainwater pass to instantly dry himself.

Danny grinned to himself. At least being a little freak also came with its perks.

He wiggled back into the hoodie, returning through the wall back towards the bathroom, thankfully remembering to at least check it was at least still unoccupied. Just in case someone had weirdly broken into a locked restroom—that would’ve been the cherry on top to the ‘shittiest way to start over in a new city’ sundae he was currently building.

Danny sighed again, trying to push back the negative thoughts. All this was the normal aftermath of a bad fight—none of this had even happened in Gotham. And injuries aside, Danny felt good right now. Danny hummed, re-adjusting his supplies and grabbing some aloe vera cream—burns should be protected but most medicines only increased the chances for infection. The unknown-but-exciting vibe to this whole thing suddenly had him feeling giddy again, and he chuckled as he got back to work. Face smoothing into a more serious expression, he leaned close to the mirror and started applying cream to the skin, wincing even with the careful touches. It stung more, causing him to tear up, and he kept having to wipe away the excess liquid with his sleeve. It was hard to get the small grooves, particularly around his eyes, but he did the best he could.

Finished, he used both hands to rapidly fan his face once more, looking up to try and stop any tears from falling and messing up the medicine. Ow. Blinking should not have to hurt.

Suddenly, multiple pings from his pocket start going off in quick succession. He frowned as the noise kept going without pause, before belatedly realizing it was all the messages coming through with the returned signal. Aaaand that would be my friends and probably sister, probably freaking the fuck out. Woops.

Deal with it in a minute, he told himself, re-opening the tube and turning to apply it to the burn on his back. It was easier to rub it across the flat area and he let it dry before dropping his hoodie. Step one complete.

Step two would require a bit more attention to detail. He took out his makeup bag, first grabbing concealer and then contour and setting powder. Making sure the aloe had dried enough, he dabbed the skin with his finger to see how it would handle—it did hurt, but not much, and didn’t quite sting the same way. Good enough. He spent several minutes applying the makeup, trying to make sure it blended reasonably well with the surrounding healthy skin, and attempted to add some handmade blemishes to make it look more natural. Finally he finished with the powder and stood back to look at his handiwork.

It was passable, especially at a glance. Danny had learned how to do his own makeup years ago, originally starting with just eyeliner. But it worked marvels for covering up injuries too, so it was a win-win on his part. Packing up, he shoved everything back into the backpack, only pausing to pull out a spare shirt. He grabbed a black one at random but snorted when it unraveled to reveal ‘too punk to die’ written across the chest. He threw the scribble hoodie back on instead of the vest, deciding comfort was the greater priority at the moment.

Okie dokie, time to go try his hand at not being on the run.

Leaving the store, he bought a Gatorade in exchange for hogging the bathroom for what was probably close to half an hour, before exiting. The rain had slowed to only a drizzle, apparently having been one of those ‘hard and fast’ type storms. Nice he had been able to snag a good soaking, then, too. The sun was fully set, street lamps and store signs blooming to life accordingly.

That’s when he realized he didn’t have a plan for…literally any of this. In the past it had always been the same—find cheap food, good food, and sleep spot options. Now he had a lot more to think about, and it wasn’t like he could just ditch this place if things went belly up. So it was probably better to keep a low profile right? Blend in? At least until he got his bearings.

Danny looked up and down the street, feeling lost. Hm.

Not having literally any clue of where he should go or where in Gotham he was even at, he wandered back over to that dead end alley mostly to get off the street, leaning against the brick wall of the apartment building to pull out his phone. It was as waterproof as it was shockproof, so he didn’t mind the dripping water running down the screen as he punched in the pin.

[88 Unread Messages]

“Damn, guys…” He quickly swiped to open them, seeing It was the four-way chat that had blown up, plus a handful of texts from Jazz. He opened up the group chat first.

               Tuckerbell

               PHANNY AREYOU OKAY

               Undergoth

               WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED

               Tuckerbell

               DANNY

               DANNY THERES A FUCKING VIDEO

https://chitter.com/a-demon-saved-my-life-but-then-almost-got-me-killed

Undergoth

               DANNY

               ARE YOU ALIVE

               TEXT ME BAKC RIGHT NOW OR ILL KILL YOU MYSELF

               Tuckerbell

               Danny I’m so scared please let me know you’re okay

               Jazz hands

               Guys stop he literally went through a portal

               Undergoth

               Not gonna lie Jazz I didn’t watch the full thing, I panicked when he was shot 

               Jazz hands

               Oh, that’s reasonable then. I’m worried too. Danny text us back when you’re able to, okay?

               Tuckerbell

               Yeah man seriously that looked like it hurt

Danny startled at seeing the thumbnail of the link showing a blurry photo of his face.

“Fuuuck—” he quickly scrolled higher up, browsing through the rest of the messages. All roughly on the same vibe of panic, worry, anger, and disbelief. He paused at what seemed to be a live reaction of the video.

               Undergoth

               HOLY SHIT YOU TOOK A LASER BEAM HEAD ON?

               WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING

               SINCE WHNE ARE THERE EVIL FUCKING ROBOTS

               Tuckerbell

               That’s an android

               Undergoth

               SINCE WHEN ARE THERE EVIL FUCKING ANDROIDS

               Jazz hands

               Since when does the US have laser technology?

               Tuckerbell

               We don’t, not at that level. It looks more like heat vision I think

               Phanny you’re so badass but what the fuck

               Jazz hands

               Danny I’m mad as heck right now but God I’m so proud of you. I screamed when that little boy ran away from his parents

               Undergoth

               Isn’t it weird none of the other heroes noticed that shit?

               Tuckerbell

               They were busy not dying Sam

               Undergoth

               Okay but that’s part of their job

Tuckerbell

               Danny what happened with the Justice League?

               Jazz hands

               Do you think they’ll recruit him

               Undergoth

               He’s on the run from the gov Jazz what do you thinjk

               Jazz hands

               I forgot they’re government funded…

               Undergoth

               WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE HOW DID THE GIW SHOW UP SO FAST

Tuckerbell

               PHANNY WEREN’T YOU ON THE WEST COAST JUST THIS MORNNG

               Undergoth

               FUCK

YEAH HE WAS

Tuckerbell

               THAT’S WHAT THEIR SHIPS LOOK LIKR RN??

Undergoth

               I’m going to kill somebody

               Jazz hands

               Same

Tuckerbell

               Same

Danny chuckled, but he was shaking a little. The lingering buzz of the alcohol, still making him feel tingly, couldn’t stop the barrage of anxieties he had been holding back. What did the Justice League want with him? Hopefully not much… although it wasn’t like Phantom would be making any public appearances anytime soon. Or, ever, more likely. Well, sure, villain attacks were pretty high in Gotham, but there was also all the Bats. What was the chances of Danny getting caught in something big like that again?

He quickly switched chats to see what Jazz had sent him separately.

Jazz hands

               Danny, we’re here for you. I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry you had to get involved

               Once this settles down, you should come visit me in Chicago. We can make it a short trip, but I miss you. I’ll make fudge

               Stay safe. Love you.

Danny smiled, eyes feeling watery again. Then he remembered he was wearing makeup and quickly went to wipe them before they could smudge his cover up. He clicked back over to the group chat, licking his lips as he thought what to say but blanking. He had to say something, but where the hell was he supposed to start? Well, probably just that I’m safe, right?

               Phanny pack

               I’m okay guys, sorry for worrying you. I swear I was there by accident

               I can’t believe that lady was recording me the whole time. What a bummer

               At least the video looks bad

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the phone.

               Phanny pack

               So got news btw guess where…

“Hey, shithead.”

Danny paused, looking up at the unexpectedly close voice. Two men had appeared from around the corner, stopped now and staring at him. The one directly in front of him was poorly concealing a wooden bat at his side.

Danny raised a brow. Hello, Gotham.

“Hey.” Better to keep this short. For emphasis, he went back to typing, but just started pressing random letters on the keyboard so he could watch them out of the corner of his eye. Hopefully they’d just leave him alone.

“Hey, shithead, I was talking to you.”

Danny barely repressed a sigh. He knew this city was the crime capital of the world, but did it really have to live fully up to the name? Right now?

Danny tucked his phone in the hoodie pocket, discreetly phasing it out of this dimension. He wasn’t risking the phone again, especially not now.

“Yeah, and? What do you want?” He did his best to keep his face neutral, to keep his voice from being too antagonistic. But Danny had been living on the streets a long time now, and he wasn’t stupid. These guys were looking for a fight.

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

The second thug behind him was eyeing him up and down, probably seeing a lanky guy in baggy clothing and already jumping to conclusions.

“Really? How convenient, ditto man.” He smirked, unable to keep a lid on the sarcasm. Fuck me. He should probably taking this more seriously. Be safe, Jazz had said. Sure, sounded great in theory, but in practice? Much more difficult. But seriously, two wannabe gangsters with a baseball bat didn’t really compare to evil androids or GIW ships, so it was hard to dig up even a single fuck to give. He had been sipping cocktails of pure happiness like, an hour ago, and he was just given some really good news, so he wasn’t about to let these idiots ruin his mood. He was trying to stay positive after all.

Thug one, however, really didn’t like that. He glared, approaching Danny slowly and bringing the bat to the front—a visible threat.

Danny sat up from where he had been leaning against the wall, but otherwise didn’t back up. Part of him was actually craving a brawl, but this wouldn’t be a nice little ghost brawl—this was a human picking a fight. Fighting with mortal, breakable humans was usually a bad idea, he tried to remind himself. What he should be doing was laying low and getting a feel for the city. Danny had spent so much time running from place to place, he had gotten in the habit of not caring what impression he made on the locals. But now it was different, he needed to make things work in Gotham. But at the same time, it wasn’t like he could just let himself get mugged.

“Well,” Thug One started, “that’s a real problem, you see. Because this is my turf. You don’t come down this street without my permission, got it? So. What’re you doin’ round here?”

 “Just—” passing through—that was his go-to answer. But that wasn’t true anymore, he would be staying in Gotham. Should he lie though? What if he ran into these thugs again? “Sight-seeing.” He finished lamely, before wincing harshly. That was very likely the worst possible explanation he could have given in that moment.

“Sight-seeing, eh? Look at this, Tank, punk’s sight-seeing,” the head guy repeated with a sneer, laughing. The beefy man behind him grinned.

Yeah, that was a mistake. Way to blend in, Danny.

Danny gave a precursory look up to the narrow rooftops. Wouldn’t that be a way to reunite with the Bats. No such luck though—which might’ve been a good thing, actually. Talk about embarrassing.

“Well, y’know, I’m all for seein’ some sights m’self,” Thug One started again, and Danny snapped his attention back to the duo—no, make that trio. A third guy with a mohawk stepped around from the opposite corner, cutting off the best escape route. Great. “And I’d love to see some green, if you know what I mean. Gimme your wallet and I’ll let you off this once for slipping into Gunner’s territory.” Gunner, seriously? Gunner and Tank? Talk about lame. Ancients these creeps were cliché as fuck. Danny supposed he was lucky Gunner had a bat and not, you know, a gun.

And pff, territory?

Danny had to stop himself from grinning at the irony. That would most definitely get him shot, if they did happen to have a gun hidden somewhere. If only they knew how Gotham’s territories were really divided. Danny could already feel the several overlapping energies of ghostly territories thrumming beneath the encompassing death-grip of Lady Gotham’s.

Danny spread his arms out instead placatingly. “Sorry pal, got no money to steal.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, all of Danny’s cash was stored in another plane, currently. Usually near the ribs.  

Thug One’s (Gunner, right) demeanor turned serious, eyes narrowing at Danny’s lack of cowering. “Liar. I’d cut your losses now if I were you, punk. Give up the backpack and you can walk away in one piece.”

Danny raised a brow. This wasn’t a very impressive mugging.

“If I were you, I’d cut your losses and schedule an appointment with a dentist or something. I’m pretty sure your teeth aren’t supposed to be black.”

The man’s face went red. He gripped the bat raising it higher. “Last chance, shithead.”

Ancients. Danny briefly stopped to think of actual, defenseless civilians having to deal with shit like this on a daily basis. Having no training, no powers, and probably living off a dirt poor salary, based on the state of the apartment exterior. This wasn’t just some chance encounter—it had obviously been planned near the convenience store. And it was assholes like this that made so many other people’s lives truly miserable. He thought of Lady Gotham, Earth-born, and decided his earlier hunch was almost certainly correct.

Danny’s patience, one moment perfectly intact, instantly dissolved.  

Corner thug, the mohawk one, had begun to inch further into the alley so Danny was slowly being flanked, but he ignored the motion for now. This is probably a bad idea. Normally Danny preferred finding the smarter solution to problems like these, but Danny was still a little tipsy and he was tired of letting people walk all over him.

He leaned in forward slightly, no longer smirking but giving his best look of forewarning, and whispered loud enough for the other two to hear:

“Nah.”

Thug One and Mohawk Man took this as their cue, both lunging simultaneously. Danny dodged, turning so he wouldn’t back directly into the assault from behind, which turned out to be fists that were now adorned with brass knuckles. Uncool, guys.

Danny only had a second to assess before Thug One was following up with another downward swing—this time Danny twisted to let the bat whiz past his shoulders, before grabbing the base of his weapon and pulling hard—the added momentum sent him flying in the opposite direction.

Danny heard him hit the wall but was already spinning to face Mohawk Man, who took the perceived opening to throw a punch. This time Danny skimmed to the side so he was grabbing the fucker’s wrist. Might as well practice some of the techniques Pandora taught him.

He twisted the wrist counterclockwise away from the man’s torso before locking it in with his other hand and pushing downwards. The man dropped to one knee with a howl of pain and Danny dropped the wrist lock to shin-kick his ribs. He fell gasping to the ground.

Danny whipped his head back at the sound of rattling to see Tank pulling out a length of chain. Oh, fuck that. Tank sent the metal whipping through the air towards Danny’s head so he ducked, remembering to check himself on using his powers. What caught Danny off guard though was the immediate follow-up from Thug One, who was bleeding from the brow but apparently back in the fight.

Danny was a second too slow and the wood slammed into his face, sending him reeling several steps.

“Shit—”

Danny backed up some more, disoriented and bringing his arms up clumsily for cover as his eyes begin to water. Ow, fuck, yep, face still hurts. Thug One was already moving in with another swing but Danny blinked through the bleary vision and rushed forward to meet him, raising his leg into a broad kick that landed solidly in the solar plexus—Thug One flew backwards, narrowly missing Tank who jumped out of the way in surprise.            

Once he was sure Thug One was staying down, he turned harshly to Tank, who now looked apprehensive. Danny forced a grin to his face, ignoring the bloodflow.

“Wanna try that again?”

Tank dropped the chain and ran.

This apparently came as a shock to Gunner, who yelled out in dismay with what little air had returned to his lungs. Mohawk Man seemed to have finally gathered his wits as well and pushed himself off the ground, taking off after Tank.

Danny blew his hair out of his face, which was searing with pain, and tilted his head to look down at Thug One. Gunner looked torn between being angry and being scared at the altered circumstances. Danny decided it could be useful if the man was a little more scared.

He knelt down to where only Gunner could hear him, leaning in so he was eye-to-eye with the man.

“You’re going to leave your weapon when you leave here, and I don’t ever want to see you attacking people out here again.” Danny, who was still feeling the rush of the adrenaline, briefly let his eyes flicker to an ectoplasmic green, before blinking back to blue. “Capiche?”

Gunner, the color drained from his face and looking thoroughly terrified, nodded aggressively and pushed himself off the ground, bolting.

Danny stood, letting the slow rain massage the tension of the fight away from him. Belatedly, he brought up the black part of his hoodie sleeve to dab out the blood running from his nose. It hadn’t quite broken, but it had definitely hurt. Ancients, I’m going to have to redo the makeup again. Fuck me.

“Impressive. Whatever you said to him seemed to be sufficient.”

Danny yelped, turning with a jump behind him to see Robin—well, one of the Robins at least, standing behind him. Danny had superhearing and he hadn’t heard Robin move at all, or even heard him arrive. How the hell was anyone that stealthy? He blinked again, brow furrowing as he realized he was looking down at the vigilante, rather than up. It was only in that moment that Danny realized with his earlier trip to the future, it meant he had only met the older-versions of the Bats. Which also meant the younger ones were like, definitely child vigilantes. Not that Danny should be judging, but still—had he known that about them?

This Robin was wearing the typical red, black, and green uniform with the yellow ‘R’ on his chest and a cape that was inlaid with yellow fabric (yellow? Seriously? How could they possibly be stealthy wearing yellow?). He had darker skin and his hood was pulled up over his masked eyes, not unlike how Danny’s hoodie was pulled low. Danny’s eyes flickered to the weapon at his side—a sword. Ah, katana Robin, then. Good to know. Shit, he was staring.

Reality slammed into Danny a moment later—holy Ancients, it’s Robin!

Then, the indignation hit.

“Hold up, did you watch them pick a fight with me? And didn’t help me out?”

Robin gave him a cold, unimpressed stare. “Tt, of course not, don’t be ridiculous. I was merely en route to see what the commotion here was, to find you already in the midst of resolving it.”

Danny could tell Robin was analyzing him. He kind of wanted to shy away from it, but he also kind of wanted to just reach forward and give him a hug. But Robin might stab him or something, who knew. The Bats were all kind of twitchy.

“Is there something the matter? If you’ve broken your nose, I can help you to a clinic. You may even be concussed, as you seem to be exhibiting slower than normal response times.”  His stilted, formal tone was kind of unreasonably adorable, in a weird way. Maybe it was only because Danny knew Katana Robin was the youngest, though. Was that part of the ‘Robin’ act or just how he talked?

Danny blinked out of it, trying to feign nonchalance. “Oh! Haha, uh, nope! I’m okay thanks! Wait, did you say I was impressive?” Danny grinned, but then winced at the motion, bringing a sleeve up to his face once more.

“Stop that, let me see your injury.”

Danny let Robin guide his hand away from his face. Huh, it was so weird being the taller one of the two. Danny was so used to being the little guy. All the Robins in the future had been taller than him (except Red Robin, they were about the same height), but yeah, that was twenty years from now, so that made sense. And part of him was really debating if he should try to reveal himself to Robin now, or, well, not do that. Was it too sudden?

Robin, oblivious to Danny’s internal crisis, was focusing on his job, looking only briefly before pulling out a mini first-aid and handing several individually packaged wipe cloths to Danny. “These are dosed with disinfectant, but you seem to have successfully avoided breakage.” He then pulled out what looked like a laser pointer, muttering a quick “hold still,” before shining a small flashlight directly into Danny’s pupil. 

Danny flinched back, closing his eyes on instinct, before the light was gone. Seeing Robin’s disapproving look, he righted himself, now prepared as the light appeared in his other eye.

“Good. You don’t seem to have a concussion either.” He was already putting the kit away. “However I would urge you to be more careful in traversing this area.”

Danny began ripping a wipe open, but he felt like he was on autopilot. Like this was a level of a video game he had already played but didn’t remember the correct actions to take.

“I thought you said my fighting was impressive,” Danny tried again, smirking. Robin in particular, Danny recalled, was the slowest to open up. Very reserved and also extremely judgmental.

Even behind the mask, Danny could just tell Robin was rolling his eyes.

“I observed your persuasion skills to be impressive, not your fighting. I didn’t witness much of the fight, but even so: Don’t let that foolish arrogance prevent you from protecting yourself. In all likeliness you were merely lucky more than skilled. The only impressive feat here is that you managed not to get yourself killed, if I am to speak honestly.”

Ouch.

Danny chuckled, nodding along to avoid the full lecture. “Sure, sure, got it. Safety. Can do.” Danny gave a thumbs up.

Robin looked nearly ready to scold him again, probably for not treating this very seriously, when his earpiece suddenly buzzed to life and he tilted his head minutely to the sound.

“Robin, rendezvous at Main Street, armed robbery at Tungsten Bank.”

Danny’s chest exploded in emotion at hearing that voice. He felt himself go still as the blood drained from his face, eyes widening. That was Bruce. Batman.

Robin gave him an odd look—right, normal humans wouldn’t be able to hear that at all. Danny swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, backing up a pace as Robin took out his grappling hook.

“You’re alright here, correct?”

Danny, fumbling to try and find his words, just nodded again. Robin paused, apparently sensing the odd vibe, but turned anyways to more pressing matters, aiming high towards the nearest rooftop.

“Wait!”

Robin turned abruptly back to him.

Danny froze, unsure what to say.

“Robin, acknowledge. What is your location?”

Robin clicked his tongue. “Do you require assistance?” he pressed.

Numbly, Danny shook his head. Robin only hesitated a second before putting a hand to his earpiece, refocusing. “On my way.”

Then he was gone.

◇◆◇

“Fuck me!”

Danny threw his arms at his sides, frustrated, doing a full turn in the alley to face away from where he had botched his first meeting with Robin. He sighed loudly, exasperated at himself. Overall, it hadn’t been that bad—but Danny still felt stupid. He acted way too obvious. To be fair, it was doubtful Robin would even remember the awkward interaction when there was surely much more going on in Gotham, but still.

It was just, he hadn’t expected to run into any of the Bats quite that soon. And it was kinda scary how easily he had been snuck up on. Danny was a halfa and had been training his situational awareness for years. He tisked to himself. Now that I can go back to the Realms whenever I want, I’m gonna go see Pandora soon. I’m feeling rusty.

First though, he needed to wait a few days to make sure the GIW didn’t, by some freak means of science, show up from portal number one.

Danny sighed again, running a hand through his hair. Oh well.

Danny took a moment to gather the discarded weapons the thugs had left and throwing them in the dumpster behind the convenience store. Then he went back inside, washed the blood off his face and the hoodie sleeve, before reemerging with fresh makeup once again. He bought another Gatorade from the now-sympathetic looking cashier.  

“Okay, me, round two.”

This time, instead of waiting around, he set off in a random direction, hands bunched in the hoodie pocket. He casually swept the area for ghosts as he went, curious if his ghost sense would work if the entire city was haunted by Lady Gotham.

It was completely dark now and the streets seemed busier now that the rain had died down. Danny began to spot small groups of huddled people, most wearing dark clothes like him and speaking in hushed voices. Every once in a while he passed a crowd of women in colorful, promiscuous clothing, and made sure to veer around them so they didn’t feel threatened. A couple even called over to him, but he waved his decline with a tight smile.

Danny tried his best to take in the tall buildings, the dimmed lighting, all of it, while trying to not completely look like a tourist. If he was too obvious about being lost he’d probably get almost-mugged again. Every once in a while a car would zip past like the devil was on its heels, and Danny didn’t feel bad at all about letting himself go briefly intangible to avoid getting splashed.

In terms of sleep spot options, the area was dismal. There only seemed to be rows after rows of tall buildings, each with a narrow, dirty alley to accompany it. Passing one such alley, Danny paused as his next exhale came with a familiar puff of cold breath, and he tensed, turning to face the alley. Hm, guess that still works after all. It, like all the others he had passed, looked dark and foreboding. Trash littered the ground and there was puddles of foul-smelling mud scattered across the ground. Danny glanced behind him to the rusty street sign, reading:

‘Park Row’

Not having any better ideas, Danny took a step into the alley.

Danny shivered. This was definitely someone’s haunt. Danny heard a rattle and stopped, keeping his hands in his pockets to try and seem as polite and non-threatening as possible to the ghost.

“It’s alright,” Danny said softly in ghost speak, “I’m not here to disrupt your territory.” Sub-territory? Danny really needed to figure that out.

What Danny didn’t expect was for a bright green blob ghost to float up from inside a trashcan, wearing the lid like a hat. Danny laughed at the unexpected scene, feeling the tension leave his shoulders.

“Oh, hello there. Up to some late-night snacking, are we?”

Danny crouched, reaching his hand out and making a chittering sound like one would to get a feral cat to come near you, but blob ghost version. The blobby phased out of the trash can with a clang as the lid fell back into place. A real cat bolted away at the sound, taking off into the shadows. The ghost came to sniff his hand and Danny giggled. “All’s you’re missing is a birthday hat, and the prophecy would come true.” Danny supposed a trashcan lid would suffice.

When the blobby finished investigating, it rubbed against his hand affectionately, chirping excitedly.

“Good ghost.”

It wasn’t exactly surprising to him that the ambient ectoplasm in Gotham was nasty enough to need some local helper-cleaners. The blobby squealed happily at him, preening, before turning with an audible squelch and disappearing through the wall.

Danny huffed with a laugh, pushing up to stand once more and peer down the alley. Something still didn’t feel right. Danny involuntarily shivered again, but decided if the ghost haunting this stretch of the city didn’t want to be greeted, he wouldn’t push.

He turned away to continue walking, glancing back only once to check it was still empty.

◇◆◇

The night was going surprisingly well so far, Jason conceded to himself. Sure, sirens were going off somewhere, but they weren’t in his territory, so he didn’t let himself worry about it. All the other Bats had the rest of Gotham to worry about, leaving Jason only to patrol Crime Alley and the surrounding blocks he had claimed. So far the only ‘incident’ of the night had been the demon brat cutting through his turf on his way to Main, and Jason having to stop himself from cussing him out for it. They all knew how much it bothered Jason but did it anyways. ‘Your so-called territory is too big, Jason, we can’t avoid it entirely when we have work to do’.

Whatever.

He was just finishing his third sweep of his normal patrol route and so far, he’d only shot one person (nonfatally—even though B would probably still chew him out for it. It was dumb that Batman could break a man’s arm and several ribs and that’s fine, but Red Hood shoots someone in the leg and suddenly it’s a big ‘ol moral conundrum). But people needed to know, if you fucked with folks in Hood’s territory, you got shot. It was a very simple design. Elegant, even.

Jason rolled and landed on the roof adjacent to the higher one he’d just jumped from. The air tonight was brisk with the coming of autumn, making the rain from earlier that much more annoying. Now everything was just damp and cold. It didn’t help that calm nights like this tended to put him on edge. Absently, he took off running again to clear the distance to the next building. Out of habit, he checked the streets below for any sign of foul play, but it was just the usual crowds out and about. He could just feel the cool air through all of his layers—meaning it was definitely chilly but not cold yet.  

Jason was resting with one foot on the ledge, taking the moment to rest, when he felt that horrible tug in his chest telling him to circle back to Crime Alley.

Jason closed his eyes for a second, willing it to leave, but of course it only got stronger. He balled his hands into fists, trying to breathe through the irrational anger that flooded him out of nowhere. He had learned long ago the weird feelings he got from the Pits couldn’t be trusted the same way his gut instinct could. It was different, and as far as he could tell, entirely random.

Still, the pull didn’t go away—it was like an itch that only became worse the longer he tried to ignore it. He was reminded of spider’s silk, and of a bug caught in the web, the wriggling vibrations thrumming back to him in hopes of sating some sick hunger. Some nonexistent hunger, more like.

Jason growled, irritated at the turn of emotions, and strode angrily away from the ledge and began sprinting towards the familiar, damnable alleyway.

Jason had long since gotten used to the nonsensical urges the Pits drove in him, even if none of the others seemed to understand why he couldn’t just ignore it when it came up. Jason desperately wanted to be able to ignore it himself, especially knowing nothing would be there. There never was.

But as always, he couldn’t.

Nearing the alley, Jason slowed to be able to move more silently, another deeply ingrained habit he couldn’t will himself to ignore. He slowed to a crawl, walking on the tips of his armored boots to inch his way closer to the ledge. Crime Alley was always fairly dark, so at least he didn’t have to worry about having enough shadows to conceal him.

Peaking over the edge, Jason was expecting the same dumb feeling for checking for something that wasn’t there—like a parent checking underneath the bed ‘cause the kid insisted there were monsters, but it was Jason checking the most avoided alley in Gotham ‘cause his brain insisted there were trespassers.

Which might’ve been why, when he looked to see there was someone standing alone in the alley, Jason nearly stumbled in his surprise. No one came down this way—not unless they were terrified or unusually desperate.

Or stupid, maybe.

Jason briefly caught what was probably a cat taking off down the alley, but focused his attention back to the mystery figure. The figure who, strangely enough, had just been kneeling by the entrance—for which, why? Everyone in Gotham knew that this alley was the main intersection between every major criminal hotspot in the Narrows; it wasn’t just to scare people, Crime Alley had earned its reputation.

So, what the fuck?

Jason watched as the figure finally stood and went to leave. That irrational desire to drop down and start a fight came again so strongly, Jason nearly shuddered, but he held it together and reigned it in. It made his blood feel like it was boiling, close to bubbling out. But unless the person was doing anything against Hood’s rules, like sampling drugs to kids or dealing weapons, there was no reason to be so angry. And yet, here I am, pissed like a motherfucker. Jason fingered the gun on his thigh holster but didn’t draw it. It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t.

The figure, hooded and wearing dark clothing (typical), drew back to the entrance, looking strangely back towards the alley like they were waiting, or something.

Jason’s bullshit-ometer was now well into the red.

When they finally went to leave, it was second nature to follow.

He made sure to trail at a decent distance, just to account for the unlikely chance they knew how to spot that kind of thing. They didn’t seem to be walking in any sort of purposeful direction though, simply meandering at a relatively slow pace, stopping periodically to watch the street. Jason was just considering that maybe the person was just wandering aimlessly, or potentially high on something, when he saw the moment they spotted a dull orange glow that indicated a street encampment. They suddenly seemed more focused, straightening as they began crossing the street towards the camp with more surety.

Jason’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed over to follow. No one would be harassing the homeless community on his watch.

Jason let himself linger a block or so away until the figure rounded the corner into the side street by the fire, before looping around to make it to the rooftop that would give him the best vantage point. Once settled, he was relieved to at least realize the person hadn’t made any moves—they were just leaning against the wall on the inside of the alleyway, watching the other people huddled on the ground or near the fire. Jason frowned to himself, realizing the person probably wasn’t a threat—they were probably just homeless. Nothin’ wrong with that.  

Feeling more relaxed now, Jason was finally able to curb the anger so it didn’t sprout into a full-blown Pit Rage. He felt himself settling, relaxing on the brick roof as he watched the people below.

At some point, the mystery figure decided to walk up to the nearest person—an elderly man with graying hair who was huddled with a dirty blanket, hands outstretched to the fire. They even waved, seemingly pretty non-threatening.

They spoke in a low voice and the older man didn’t seem alarmed or anything, so Jason wasn’t worried. Eventually they dropped their hoodie—and Jason was finally able to see it was a guy, fairly young looking. Maybe around Jason’s age or younger. Possibly thin, but it was hard to tell with how the baggy hoodie enshrouded his frame. His jeans were ripped well-past the point of usage—Jason idly wondered if he was cold or not, but the temperatures wouldn’t be getting low enough tonight to be dangerous. Hood would probably do another donation event with winter coming up—he didn’t like people freezing to death in his territory. Just ‘cause people here were poor didn’t mean they deserved that kind of death.

Now that he was sure the potential for threat was gone, Jason was only half paying attention to the people below, letting his thoughts wander. Bruce would almost certainly want Jason to come stay at the manor with the holidays approaching, but it always made Jason uncomfortable. Sure, they were both at least trying to work through everything that had happened. But he didn’t like to leave the Narrows often. The Bats all thought it was just paranoia, but it was deeper than that. These streets had been his home far longer than Wayne Manor had—even when he had been Robin, he had always felt a little uneasy living there—just, too big, too extravagant… too much. But Jason would have to show up in some capacity, though, or he’d be accused of not trying or whatever. He guessed he had a few months to figure it out, at least.

Jason’s attention suddenly snapped back to the camp when he saw two children he recognized get up from where they had been huddled, either asleep or just still. They were both very young, under ten, and Jason knew they didn’t have anyone looking after them. Jason watched as the older of the two, a girl who went by Papaya for famously stealing a papaya from some rich bozo who’d gotten lost, began approaching the hoodie guy from behind.

Jason winced, watching as she crept closer, clearly intent on trying to pickpocket something. He’d have to remind them later to only steal from people who you knew didn’t have a weapon. Approaching strangers like that could be very dangerous—but at least, Jason was here if anything went awry. Jason’s hand fell back to the gun, hoping he wouldn’t need to use it.

Unexpectedly though, the man turned right before the girl was about to reach him. Despite the slow and obviously purposeful movement, she squeaked, jumping back a little in fright. Jason was tense, ready to spring into action if needed.

The man, at least immediately, didn’t retaliate.

He seemed to be considering something, but then knelt down. Jason upped the noise sensitivity on his helmet to be able to listen in.

“—there. Sorry I scared you. My name’s Danny. Do you need help with anything?”

The girl stared at Danny, suspicious. Jason eased a little, feeling a tad calmer. On one hand, Jason knew stealing would piss most people off, and just getting angry would be one thing. On the other hand, if anyone tried to hit one of his kids, he’d probably shoot them. Jason didn’t care what the circumstances were, they were still just kids.

The girl drew back a little, even though Danny didn’t reach forward or anything.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad—just, I’d prefer if you asked.” Danny paused, then chuckled a little wryly. “Although I’m sure that doesn’t normally go over well for you either, actually, so nevermind.”

She stood back, not trusting him. Good.

Finally, she spoke up. “Hungry.”

Yeah, Hood would be holding some donations soon. Also wasn’t there a food kitchen down the street? He should do more to make sure everybody knew where to find it. Especially the little ones.

Danny nodded, pulling his backpack forward to reach inside.

Hood squinted, feeling his pulse shoot up suddenly.

Danny withdrew what looked like homemade biscuits or granola bars of some kind—they were only packaged in Ziploc bags.

The girl stubbornly shook her head, looking disappointed. Jason relaxed again. Atta girl. Never trust unlabeled food.

Danny, it seemed, just as quickly understood.

“Oh right, sorry—” he put them back, digging a little more, before pulling out some individually packaged off-brand granola bars, and held them out. Now Hood could see the girl considering.

Danny sat them on the ground between them, before pulling out two bottles, setting them on the ground next to the bars. “You can check the seal, they’re unopened.”

He pulled his hand back and Jason could see they were both red Gatorades.

Jason hummed approvingly.

“Sorry if you don’t like it, but maybe your brother does?”

Ah, so he did see the other one.

“If not, you can leave them. Won’t hurt my feelings,” Danny continued.

Finally, he seemed to reach into his hoodie pocket, before pulling out several ones’ worth of cash. Jason’s eyebrows shot up. Most people in the Narrows never let other people know if they had money on them.

Danny sat the cash by the food before backing away, letting the girl know she could take them. She was staring at him with awestruck eyes—Jason felt his heart melt a little.  

“Papaya,” the girl said quietly.

Danny seemed to be taken off guard by that, before laughing. The older gentleman, Jason noticed, also laughed at the scene.

“Sorry, ‘fraid I don’t have any fruit.”

She shook her head, and Jason felt himself smiling slowly.

“I’m Papaya. Or Paya. That’s my name.”

Jason was smirking now, almost wishing he could have seen Danny’s expression, but he was still facing away from Hood.

Danny chuckled, recovering. “Oh! Yeah okay, my bad. Nice to meet you, Paya.”

He waved, and she quickly gathered the spoils and went back to sit near her brother, who had been watching nervously.

Danny had gone back to leaning against the brick wall, too far away from the fire to really feel the heat. But the general atmosphere of the alley had lightened considerably—no one liked it when fights broke out, but especially at the camps, which were informally designated as safe spaces. Danny pulled out a phone and began typing on it, so Hood took that as his cue that all was well here and stood to leave, brushing off his pants.

Just before he was about to hop down to the next building, Jason thought he noticed Danny turn his gaze minutely in his direction, or at least up to the rooftops of the building Jason was perched on.

Jason froze, trying to decide if Danny had spotted him or if it had just been a coincidence. But then he looked away again, going back to his phone. Jason waited several minutes to see if he would do it again, but he didn’t.

Hood decided to call it chance and finally jumped down to land on the adjacent roof, shaking off the odd feeling.

Yeah, quiet nights always put him on edge.      

Chapter Text

Following through on concrete leads before jumping to more obscure ones was standard Bat protocol. Always rule out that which can be definitively disproved. As someone who normally had a half dozen or more active cases open at a time, it was good practice to not get in the habit of making conclusions preemptively.

That reasoning had led Batman to consult with several of the Justice League members before, begrudgingly, circling back to questioning Zatanna about the magical origins of the Unknown from Happy Harbor. First he followed what he presumed would be the easiest guess—were the green powers displayed indicative of a Green Lantern? While it was unlikely that one would come to Earth without first contacting the established Lantern members, it was worth excluding that. As he suspected, both Stewart and Jordan firmly denied the magic-user could be Lantern core.

The next logical leap had been investigating the public’s guess that the Unknown was a demon or demon-adjacent creature. From his limited work with the JL Dark, he at least knew demons were both real and tricky to pin down. According to Raven and Zatanna though, it was absolutely not demonic.

“How can you be certain?”

“If a demonic entity came to Earth Batman, we would know it,” Zatanna had assured him. “Think Trigon or worse. Victims from the attack would be reporting nightmares. It would have been slaughtering people, not saving them.”

“And I know what demons feel like,” Raven had added grimly.

Finally, he had checked with Dr. Fate, in case this was another example of the balances between Order and Chaos taking a role in humanity. But Fate had assured him the magic was not of this world.

Batman, personally, kept mentally circling back around to the idea of them being an alien—but frustratingly had to continuously remind himself that an extra-terrestrial, much like Superman, would have had their powers copied and used against them during the fight.

Once those possibilities were exhausted, Batman conceded that the magic-user was of some unheard origin to the League, which was enough in itself to nearly give him a migraine. Either it was a new domain of power rearing its head or something else that had previously been idle. There were already enough supernatural mega-powers to contend with at the League level, and he wasn’t thrilled to be uncovering another. Especially when six out of seven of his cases were based out of Gotham, and he’d honestly rather be focusing his efforts there.

While Batman, personally, didn’t think the Unknown was hostile, he also didn’t have enough information to be comfortable with the whole thing. Nor with the Unknown’s assailants. More information was always the key.

“Heyyy, Batsy,” a gravelly voice drawled from the doorway.

It wasn't often that Batman could say he knew the exact moment his day took a turn for the worse. Usually there were several minor problems that came up, scattered across his schedule in an unpleasant but more or less expected manner, like his children getting carried away in a prank war or a new round of unsavory rumors spreading about him in the tabloids. Or something big would happen that majorly disrupted his day, like a villain attack or Arkham breakout, but there would be enough signs that Batman could feel it coming before it really hit.

Batman didn't like surprises. He especially didn't like surprises of the chronically sarcastic, smoke-raddled British kind.

John Constantine began sauntering across the room, looking dreadfully bored or possibly distracted. He was already looking across the bay to where Earth was visible through the Watchtower windows before remembering he was there for an actual purpose.

Batman remained steadily neutral.

“Aw” Constantine pouted, crashing into the seat across from him at an ungainly angle, nearly falling out of it in fact. “Real chipper today, are we? Normally, we say, ‘Hi John, how are you?’” The man grinned teasingly at his own joke.

“Are you drunk?” He asked pointedly, voice low. They had clear rules about intoxication on the Watchtower.

“You’re in a jolly good mood. Great to see nothing changes with you. But nah, just here, doin’ business, for your lot I might add,” Constantine shrugged, sitting up more to lean onto the table across from him.

Batman didn’t smell alcohol, so he decided not to press it for now.

The meeting room was only reserved for the hour, but Batman now wondered if he should have scheduled two. Constantine had a tendency to take a while to get to the point. Even if the knowledge was generally worthwhile.

Batman glanced at his league tablet, checking for any messages.

“I see. Any particular reason Zatanna neglected to inform me she was unavailable?”

“Take a wild guess.”

She figured his background was more relevant, then.

Batman sighed, letting it drop. “Let’s get to it. Have you reviewed the case?”

“Sort of. You need a consultation on a new magic user, yeah?”

“Yes.” Why else would I be here? “Have you seen the video?”

“Not yet, figured you’d have it on hand.” He smirked playfully.

Batman rolled his eyes, though the action was hidden by the whites of his mask, and began pulling it up on his tablet. He’d probably drop dead the day Constantine came to work prepared.

He pushed the screen across the table, then sat back to observe.

Batman saw John’s expression go from bored, to skeptical, to surprised, then confused, before resting on disturbed and/or possibly offended.

“This is the Unknown magic-user from Happy Harbor?” Offended it was.

“Yes,” Batman answered lowly, as if it weren’t obvious from the recording. “We didn't get any information from them before they disappeared.”

“And Zatanna didn’t know what it was?”

“She said it looked like a ghost. But you're the one who always tells me that ghosts aren't visible to humans without intervention. So I ruled out her theory.”

Constantine rubbed his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you know every rule in magic has exceptions? That’s almost certainly a ghost.” He closed his eyes, frustration now invading into his trademark nonchalance.

“Why were they there then?”

“That’s a bloody good question. What I’m more concerned about though is what’s out there shooting ghosts. Most ghost hunters use Geiger counters, not military-grade fighter jets. Fuckin’ Christ on a  stick—”

“Let’s back up a moment,” Batman interjected before he could get too far into the rant. “So you agree with her assessment that it’s not a demon?”

“Oh, yeah, we’d know. Firstly demons rarely appear in their true form, they usually possess humans,” he began checking off traits on his fingers, “two, if one had been there, it would have needed a summoner, and someone would have been ran through the meat grinder once it got free, plus they stink like total shite—”

“A brief yes or no will suffice.”

Constantine sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat at a precarious angle. Batman decided to choose his battles today and didn’t comment. “No,” he said, looking blankly up towards the ceiling.

 “And you’re positive it’s a ghost?” he continued, trying to nail down an exact answer.

“It’s an Infinite Realms being,” he answered instead, words clipped.

Batman’s eye twitched beneath the cowl. He should have led with that. Batman finally decided to pull out a pen and paper and began to take notes. He really, really hated magical language. ‘Beings’ was so vague. It didn't tell him what they were. But Constantine’s worry was slowly increasing his own concerns about the potential severity of this case.

“Alright. What else can you tell me?”

"It's extremely powerful."

Batman resisted the urge to scowl. He let a full heartbeat pass before continuing. "How about you start by explaining what ‘it’ is." And why it's not a who, he also wondered.

"A being from the Infinite Realms, I just said that.”

Batman waited, hating how he had to force every detail from the man, verbally or nonverbally pushing the conversation along. The disapproving silence must have been loud enough because Constantine picked up his head, groaning.

“Like I said, s’most likely a ghost,” he amended. “I see why she referred you to me now. This is a little outside her wheelhouse—she’s more about material manipulation, but these guys are purely necromantic.”

Batman finally did scowl. Because of course it was. It was always necromancy. And death magic was Constantine’s area of expertise. Phenomenal.

“Most likely?” He asked instead.

"Most beings from the Infinite Realms are ghosts. It's broadly known as the Realms of the Dead."

"What else lives there?"

"Gods, mostly. Some demon hybrids. Nasty stuff, really.” Constantine went to pull out a cigarette and Batman reached for his utility belt, a threat in itself, which stilled the man's hand.

"Fine, fine, bloody stick in the mud you are" Constantine rolled his eyes, repocketing the pack.

"So the Unknown is a ghost, a god, or a demon hybrid."

"Most likely just a ghost," he said, finally swinging his legs to stand up and begin pacing the room, looking deep in thought.

"We don't make conclusions without evidence, Constantine.” He lectured with a growl. “What makes you say it's a ghost?" This was why having to get magical consultations was so irksome. He had to parse out the facts from the assumptions. Batman hated having to rely on external sources like this. Magic was frustrating enough without unreliable informants (Although, as much as Batman hated to admit it, Constantine had a record of being surprisingly reliable. Just... Unreliably reliable).

“You do when you know what you’re talking about, which I do,” he countered.

Batman wondered if Constantine got any particular enjoyment from being so obtuse, or if this was an exercise in patience for them both. “Walk me through it,” he said instead to avoid the argument.

"Mostly the magic. It was fighting with its own essence, and it has all the typical ghost traits. Flight, incorporeality. It was pure enough to be green, too, if you care about color theory,” he snorted, which really underlined the credibility of that piece of evidence. “Also it spilled some ghost essence when it was injured, right? You got a sample of that by the way?"

Of course Batman had a sample. He had sent Signal to collect the green substance left behind from where the being was shot. So far none of their sensors had yielded any useful data.

"Yes. It's back in the cave.”

“Good, good, I’ll take a looksy when we’re done here.”

Batman paused, scanning his notes to check he followed Constantine’s logic. "So they can fly, density shift, has green magical traces and bleeds...an essence. The gods or demon hybrids don't share those characteristics?"

Constantine rubbed his jaw. "I'm not sure what gods bleed, never really seen one in a pickle like that. Never seen one at all, actually. But demon spawn tend to bleed black, also—because I know you won’t just drop it—know that a god would never show its face to mortals Iike that, and anything even remotely demonic wouldn't lift a finger to help anyone in danger. So, it's gotta be a ghost.”

Batman hummed. Technically Raven was of a demonic bloodline, so that was easy to refute based on prior knowledge. But now they were getting to the useful stuff and Batman didn't want to disrupt it now. Speculative, but useful nonetheless.

"What motive would a ghost have to help people?"

"Honestly? No idea, that one's a head scratcher. Most ghosts don't show themselves to humans either, and the ones that do don't do it for benevolent reasons. See, ghosts are mostly driven by the need to—"

"So based on motivation alone, we can't rule out any of those three categories?” Batman rolled his jaw, trying to not let the vagueness of it all worsen his frustration. “What else did you say lived in the..." he had to pause to scan his notes.

"Infinite Realms,” Constantine supplied, “Yeah, uhhhh, let's see, not much. Maybe some shades—dying ghosts, different caliber, those,” Constantine answered as Batman went to ask. “Weaker, and they start to lose sense of self at that stage, but no other undead. Only the incorporeal can survive long in the Realms.”

"Very well. So the essence is our best clue. Would you be able to confidently say from a sample?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." Finally, a succinct answer. "And if the sample was contaminated?"

Constantine’s eyes sharpened as he paused abruptly mid-stride. "Contaminated by what?"

"Sand, debris. It was clear from the video—"

And, they unfocused again. Back to the pacing. "Oh, no, material contamination won't affect magic like that. It's fine. I thought you meant something else could've got mixed in.”

It was clear his mind was already beginning to wander. He muttered a couple things to himself before stopping to lean on the empty seat. “Look Bats, I get you like to know everything, but I think we’re getting off track here. We should be focusing on the guys who showed up and start blowing holes in a ghost—”

“Once we know for sure what the entity is, we will have better leads on who could possibly be hunting them,” he argued. “It’s most logical to start with the Unknown.” Ah. There it was. The inevitable headache beginning to form at the base of his head. “What’s different about this ghost versus others we’ve encountered?”

“It had the power to become visible for one, and corporeal. That takes some gumption. And it was able to conjure its own portal. That takes major juju.” Constantine was now tapping his fingers impatiently, looking around the room like he was already planning his next step. On one hand, Batman approved of him taking real initiative. Constantine’s advanced competence was one of the primary reasons he had been invited to join the League at all. On the other hand, he needed him to stay still long enough to finish answering questions. Or provide them some new leads.

“Why could we see them at all?”

“It had to have been there for a reason. Either a summoning or something related to its Obsession,” Constantine waved him off like it was unimportant.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he sighed, seeming annoyed to be explaining all of this at all, “either it was there because someone brought it to this plane, or it was there on its own. I’d bet the latter, since it left on its own too.”

He could accept that for now. He quickly wrote down obsession?

“Anyways, wanna zip over to the cave? I'll take a look at your ghost essence before it destabilizes."

"Destabilizes?"

"Oh, yeah, essence does that over time, with nothing holding it together. It’ll look like... evaporation, probably, but it won't be detectable."

Batman sighed a final time. Only one piece of hard evidence for this case, and it was only a matter of time before it became unusable. Wonderful. He was quick to gather everything to leave. Turns out they hadn’t even needed the full hour. They both made their way down the long hall, walking briskly, and Batman noted how restless Constantine seemed.

“We need to make this quick, by the way. This is now the top priority of the JLD. I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”

“I take everything seriously.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, not everything is equally serious. What leads do you have on the white ship?”

“Nothing on the assailants,” Batman admitted with a frown. “We had three trackers placed on that plane before it took off, and all three of them went dark.”

“That’s not too surprising, Bats,” Constantine said somewhat distantly, “they have something that’s either ghost essence or otherwise magically-infused onboard. You know that magic and tech don’t play along.”

“That’s a contradiction though—the aircraft was highly advanced, and had to be man-made—”

“Yeah, I won’t lie—that’s one of my biggest concerns right now. If someone figured out how to overcome the difficulties between the magical-electrical interferences, that’s… there’s some pretty big implications there. And if they did, I wanna know who’s stupid enough to start picking fights with beings that are functionally immortal.”

So he had been right. The Unknown was probably much older than the physical form he chose to present as.

It was a short walk to the Zeta tubes, located in the main gathering hall of the Watchtower. Batman punched in a bypass code to let Constantine portal into the cave. He usually blocked all non-Gotham League members from being able to enter without permission. It prevented random arrivals from interrupting his workflow.

He gestured for John to go first, and the man stepped onto the platform. The whirring was loud as the inner walls lit up white, and he was gone in an instant, reduced to molecules to be transported and reformed on the other side.

Batman stepped up next, allowing the light to envelop him as well, and then he was greeted in less than a second by the familiar dimness. He saw immediately that Constantine was already crossing the room, walking directly to sample containment. He must have been able to sense it somehow, perhaps similar to how the Unknown had sensed the ship?

Tim was at the computer console, many files open across the enormous main screen—one of which, was the same video from Happy Harbor, playing on repeat behind several other open tabs. Damian was across the room on the training mat. Both had stopped to stare questioningly in his direction.

“Taking a look at the sample,” he answered the question they were both most likely wondering. “He thinks they may be a ghost.”

“So Zatanna was correct?” Tim asked as Damian went back to assaulting the training dummies.

“Seems that way.” He made his way quickly across the room to catch up with Constantine. He didn’t want him unsupervised or he was likely to disappear. Tim followed curiously.

John had just arrived at the back wall where several instruments were lined up. The green sample was in a small vial, mixed with dirt, inside a glass box. He was staring at it, arms crossed, lost in thought.

Batman came up behind to unlatch the casing and grab the vial, before passing it to Constantine.

“I can tell you now, mate,” he started, taking it, “definitely a ghost. Happy now?” He seemed paler than normal. He muttered a few words and then his eyes were aglow with a warm yellow light—something Batman had seen him do before when examining magical items.

“You can tell by looking at it?” He had already guessed that was the case, but it was good to confirm.

“I can feel it.” Still, he uncapped the vial, reaching a finger in just as Batman was about to protest. His fingertip came out coated in the sickly green substance. It had the consistency of drying honey but no discernable smell.

Constantine made a face, sniffing it, then tentatively licking it. Batman must’ve also made a face because Constantine put up a hand to hold off any protests. His golden eyes flashed green for a moment before they blinked back to his normal blue, the remaining residue touching his skin disintegrating.

“Damn. Bollocks. We’re—take this.” He thrust the uncapped vial into Batman’s hands. “Fuck me sideways, I need to— I need to go check in on some contacts—”

“What kind of contacts?” Batman said urgently, quickly capping the vial and passing it off to Tim to follow Constantine who was now moving quickly, registering the man had already mentally left the conversation.

“The dead kind.”

A golden circle lit up the space, shining unnatural light and leaving Constantine’s form strangely silhouetted.

“Let me come with—” Batman started, but the man had already stepped into the circle.

It flared brightly, and then he was gone.

Batman sighed, left standing there with literally zero leads and a half sample of drying evidence. And some very convoluted information.

Necromancy may be Constantine’s specialty, but investigations were Batman’s specialty. Interrogations especially. But the Hellblazer was notoriously difficult to work with. Bruce should have expected this.

“It’ll be alright, B,” Tim said comfortingly, “at least he showed up. Want to go over the notes?”

◇◆◇

It was bright. Bright enough to have Danny shifting to try and block some of it out. His face was buried in something soft, but as consciousness slowly, regrettably, came, he found that more was bothering him than just the light. Everything ached.

Finally, Danny lifted his head, blinking blearily at his surroundings. He was curled up in a ball on the ground, which was hard, with his back to a brick wall, also very hard. His hoodie was bunched in his lap, being used as a temporary pillow, leaving his arms bare. His phone was on the ground next to him, haphazardly lying like it had been dropped, which was startling.

That’s when he realized he must have fallen asleep texting—without putting anything away or even finding a better place to sleep for the night.

Danny groaned, feeling disoriented. He snatched the phone, looking around quickly for his backpack—but it was still beside him on the ground. Holy Ancients, he’s lucky he didn’t get fuckin’ robbed in his sleep. Talk about a rookie move.

His next breath was cold and he straightened quickly, now fully awake, to see a ghost blink into sight, hovering directly over him. Danny pushed himself off the ground in a hurry, feeling dizzy. What time was it?

“Hello?” he greeted, still trying to blink away the dizziness.

“Oh good! You’re awake! I was starting to get bored.” The woman—the ghost that is—was floating a couple feet in the air, hands behind her back and swinging her legs back and forth playfully. She grinned at him.

“…Sorry, bored?” A disappointed feeling came over him. Was she looking for a brawl? Or even a Challenge? If it was a Challenge, he’d be forced to accept. Which would be terribly inconvenient right now, considering he felt like garbage and they were in the middle of a heavily populated area.

“Well damn, Mr. Sunshine, it’s not like the Joker took a shit on your front porch.” Her voice was teasing but Danny still had no idea what was going on.

“Oh, um, sorry… Jus’ woke up.” He yawned, turning away slightly to not be rude. He then realized it was so bright because the sun seemed to just be peeking over the horizon, sending light through the tall buildings and directly towards him and his very sensitive eyes. Danny yanked the backpack up, side-stepping so he was blissfully in the shade once more.

“I know, that’s what I’ve been waiting all night here for.” She twirled in the air, her head tilted back so she was looking at him upside down. Like if she was laying over a tall, invisible bed. “Y’know, Phantom, camps are safe zones and all but you still should’nta left all your stuff out like that. Crazy move honestly.” She grinned again, all teeth. “Don’tcha worry though! I scared everyone off. Ghosts too by the way, some of ‘em are bullies, but I reminded them that halfas still need to sleep.”

Danny was slowly beginning to get his bearings again. He looked around once more, seeing the empty camp, the industrial oil can that was still smoking from last night’s fire and the otherwise deserted alley. He refocused back to the ghost, alarmed as her words were sinking in. “Wait, you watched me? Why? Are you hurt?” Had she hurt herself protecting him? He walked in a semi-circle to get a better look, but she swatted him away annoyingly.

“Oi now, course I’m fine, you’re welcome by the way. No fights, promise. And no humans bothered you either, I made ‘em go away since you kinda looked dead on your feet.”

The look he gave her sent her into a fit of howling laughter.

“Sorry, sorry! Too early for puns? Anywho—”

“What’d you do about the humans?”

“Oh pff, nothin’ much, just spooked ‘em. Y’know that feeling you get right before your chair is about to fall backwards?”

Danny blinked, digesting that, then snorted. “Okay, that’s pretty funny actually.” He took a second to smile properly, switching to ghost speak. “Thank you,” he repeated, “it is appreciated.”

She wooped. “Hell yeah! Not every day you can do the Ghost King a solid.”

He grinned, chuckling. “So obviously you know who I am. May I know your name?”

“Emma!”

He nodded his acknowledgment.

Danny took a moment to look her over, this time out of curiosity. She looked pretty normal, on the scale of human-looking ghost to the batshit (heh) monster-esque look that some ghosts opted for. She was wearing shorts over leggings and a crop-top. Her hair was a short bob and bright, neon pink. Her nails were the kind of super long acrylic kind that Danny always wondered how any (living) person could work around them. Her core was humming softly with the praise, and Danny smiled at how openly happy she was. Good to know everyone in this city wasn’t depressed. It gave him some hope.

He nodded to himself, looking back down as he fidgeted with his hoodie, considering his options. He should probably get the question out of the way. “So, you waited here all night to do me a favor. Were you hoping for one in return? Or, if you’re looking for a Challenge, we can find somewhere to go. Probably shouldn’t have it right here in the city.”

She visibly wilted, spiraling back down to stand on the ground with hunched shoulders. “Whoa now! Naw bro, I ain’t about all that rough and tumblin’, nooo thank you.” She rubbed her arms self-consciously.

The nervous ball in his chest loosened a little. That was good. She had done him a favor, and she seemed nice. He wouldn’t have wanted to hurt her.

“I see. No worries, I was actually hoping to avoid a fight, too, so,” he held his hands up playfully, smiling to try and put her at ease. It worked, and she bounced back in the air, giddy once more.

“Still though,” he switched back, “Is there a favor I can return in kind?”

“Hmm…” She genuinely seemed to consider it.

Danny waited patiently.

“If you could…” she started hesitantly, “my haunt is close by. If the Ghost King himself were to make an offering, I would be most honored.”

Oh boy.

Offerings were tricky. Sometimes what the ghosts wanted were just plain un-doable. Like major property damage or something equally drastic, or pain to be inflicted on those who did them wrong in life, or in the worst cases, actual sacrifices. He had learned very early on not to make promises without knowing the terms first.

“That would depend. What kind of offering would you ask of me?”

“Can I show you?” she asked, switching back to English.

He nodded, hiding a grimace. Hopefully nothing gruesome. She seemed friendly, but she had still died in Gotham. So he had no idea what to expect.

She took off across the street, not looking back, and Danny hurried to gather his things, double checking that nothing was forgotten, before sprinting to follow her with his backpack thrown over one shoulder. He had to pause as a few cars passed, but this didn’t seem to be a busy road, at least at this time of day.

Once he crossed, he kept pace, looking out for signs of a haunt. Now with a goal in mind, she was paying him less attention. Finally they turned a corner, and Danny noticed the road was a two-way street, lined on either side by cars crammed in the parallel-parking style that he had never learned to do.

She abruptly paused though, now floating next to the road, and he came to a stop behind her.

Danny was careful to keep quiet now. Only the faintest, lightest touch pulling at his core told him this was a haunt at all. It was very small and weak, it seemed, but that wasn’t what stopped him. She had a far away look to her that made her look much more mature than she had been previously acting, staring into the street.

Danny walked up beside her, trying to figure out what she was seeing. Most likely, it was a memory of some kind.

That’s when he noticed every spot had a parking meter next to it, and every single spot was filled except for the one in front of her. It looked old and rusted, with lichen growing at its base.

“Here’s where it happened,” she said softly, staring at the road.

Danny nodded, not knowing but sympathetic. Most ghosts chose not to discuss their deaths. It was painful, and one of the worst offenses to bring up first in conversation, unless it was your own.

He closed his eyes for a moment to shut out his own memories, of electricity shoving its way through his arm, through his body, burning him from the inside out. His right arm where the Lichtenberg scars ran up were faded now, only faintly visible, but he knew he’d never forget what it felt like.

“Just a drive-by shooting. I followed the policemen,” she said, her accent sounding more natural, “lousy as they are ‘round here, to see if they would find my killer. But they said it was just a random act of violence, and likely I hadn’t even been picked out. They never found my murderer.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said softly. There was little else he could say or do that would make it better. This part of being the Ghost King was sometimes the hardest. A lot of ghosts felt better knowing someone would listen, so he did. It didn’t make it easier. He wasn’t sure it mattered who it was, but maybe talking to someone important made them feel important too.

He also got the distinct impression that her earlier mannerisms were purposefully exaggerated. An overly playful mask she wore to keep her true sorrow at bay.

“What they didn’t know was that I had dreams, dammit. All I ever wanted was to get out of here. To drive away one day, and never look back. Do you think they ever cared they took that away from me?”

Danny wondered how long she had been waiting to share this piece of herself with another soul. He didn’t say out loud how cruel it was that her dream had been freedom, and now she was trapped here, to forever dwell on that which never came to be. There was no reason to mention it, since he was certain the irony wasn’t lost on her.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully.

She sighed heavily, but when she turned back to him, that overly sweet smile was plastered back onto her face, some of the melancholy tucked away for now. “Thanks, Phantom. For my offering, could you…?”

She gestured loosely to the broken meter, and he looked at it, a bit confused.

“This is all you’d like?”

“Yeah. I never let anyone park here, it’s my spot. I haven’t paid the fare in a while though,” she chuckled lowly, her tone much more sobered than it had been before. “No need for the full thing, but some change would be nice.”

He almost laughed, but made sure to reign it in. He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice though.

“Was that a pun?”

She grinned. “Can’t help myself. Seriously though, the prices around this part of town are outrageous. Inflation’s a real bitch. You got a nickel or something?”

Danny smiled playfully, but didn’t joke about it. It may be small to him, but offerings were very important to ghosts. Not all ghosts wanted or needed them, but some craved it, and he was more than willing to oblige when possible.

He swung his backpack around front, digging through some pockets. He almost always had leftover change, since he always paid for things in cash. He shuffled around a bit before grinning and pulling out a coin.

“I’ll do you one better, how about a quarter?”

She beamed at him, nodding, and he reached to plop it in the meter. It was rusted closed, so it just rested inside the lip, but she kicked her feet excitedly once it was settled.

“Thanks Phantom! Now I’m gonna sit here with it, and if anyone tries to snatch my quarter, I’ll scare the bejesus out’ve ‘em!” She cackled wickedly, although Danny felt safe in assuming there wouldn’t be any real harm from it.

“Have fun with that. It was lovely to meet you, Emma.”

She saluted him brightly, floating over to sit cross-legged above the empty spot.

“See you later, your Majesty!”

◇◆◇

Overall, first night in Gotham was a solid 7/10. Really not so bad, his attempted-mugging notwithstanding. He had even gotten through the night completely unscathed, thanks to Emma. Now though, he was fucking hungry.

After leaving her to enjoy her offering, he made his way in a random direction down the street. Lot less spooky during the day, that’s for sure. The atmosphere wasn’t nearly as imposing.

Leaving the residential area, which must’ve been on the poorer side (damn you gentrification), more of the buildings seemed to be stores and small businesses. Cheap food, good food, good sleep spot options.

He actually passed a little breakfast place with a line going out the door, which probably meant it was good, but decided today was not the day for a busy restaurant. Even though they probably had bagels and Danny loved breakfast foods. Bagels had sounded appetizing this week. But twice now, he had been betrayed in the presence of a bagel. He didn’t trust it.

A milkshake or something sounded nice about now, maybe. He kept going, keeping his eyes and nose out for something less crowded.

Wedged in between two normal-looking brick buildings was an obnoxiously bright red and yellow building painted white but stained brown and grey. The sign read ‘BatBurger: Home of the Bats’ in a tacky neon sign, and Danny actually laughed aloud.

Cheap food, bingo.

Ancients, this feels like sinning. If he were religious and not already dead. Talk about a tragedy.

A handful of slow, minimum wage minutes later (the employees were not paid enough to be inclined towards efficiency and Danny didn’t blame them) and he had a to-go bag in hand with a medium shake. He would have eaten inside but the lighting was actually painful. He wasn’t sure if that was just because of the atrocious marketing, though, or if his eyes were just sensitive from being completely destroyed and regenerated less than 12 hours ago. 

Either way, he asked for some loose directions from the disbelieving cashier, who was eyeing him like the outsider he was, and set off to find the supposed park in the area. One, sitting outside gave him some time to think, and two, he could get a little more familiar with the city this way than he could munching away at a dirty fast-food booth.

It was about a twenty minute walk. Gotham was strangely mellow for the time being. Sure it was mid-morning on a weekday, but for the size of the city, Danny had honestly expected more commotion. But the roads were averagely busy, the people were keeping to themselves, and the sky was a pleasant overcast. The locals seemed to be speed-walking everywhere, passing him roughly when his pace was too slow, but Danny didn’t let himself be rushed. He was watching the people, how they walked, what they were doing. Interestingly most of them actually seemed to be paying attention to their surroundings—not walking with their faces to their phones like he commonly saw in most cities. But they kept their eyes forward, focused on their destination.

It was odd how narrow everything was. Streets, buildings, alleys. The whole place felt squished, especially compared to the urban sprawl he had grown up in. It was probably hellish during rush hour.

The park was actually a pleasant surprise, once he made it there. It was pressed directly against the neighborhood and large enough that he couldn’t easily cross it length-wise. He was impressed by the size. It was like a neighborhood in itself, green nestled right along with the people. He did notice though that the buildings across from this side were noticeably more impressive. Taller, on average, some the actual skyscraper size he associated with big cities, and shinier. He’d check it out later.

He felt much calmer after finding a place to sit—a bench placed conveniently beneath a large tree canopy. It was shaded, the breeze felt nice, and all the sounds of the city were muffled by distance. He sprawled on the bench to eat his burger.

It was greasy and satisfying. One of the things he always made sure to do on the run was enjoy meals, even if they were the cheap kind. He learned over his first year that constantly trying to rush eating not only made him feel sick sometimes, but it worsened his anxiety. Jazz had been the one to point it out, of course. But forcing himself to slow down, even for a few minutes, helped remind him everything wasn’t just about survival. There was a part of his mind that kept considering things like, where he should sleep, where he should go next, where would be hard to get to. But then he remembered he didn't need to worry. It was... Surreal. He was still adjusting to the idea that he was safe here. He knew he needed to worry some point about getting a job and stuff, and figuring out what he was gonna do with the Bat situation, but right now he just wanted to relax.

So he ate slowly and reminisced about group lunches they used to take at the Nasty Burger, watching the thick clouds swirl in the sky. Once finished he leaned back, finally pulling out his phone to check on the messages that continued coming through after he fell asleep.

Tuckerbell

So youre in Gotham right now?

Undergoth

How come Clockwork never mentioned this? I get why not Fright Knight, being polite and all that to Lady Gotham, but isn’t it his job to advise Danny?

Tuckerbell

Cmon sam

He has to at least pretend to be “unbiased”

Undergoth

Load of bull

Like hes the king. Wouldnt keeping your king safe be like a priority?

Tuckerbell

I guess not if said king was technically not in danger

Jazz hands

Maybe its a tough love situation. Wanted Danny to figure it out himself

Jazz hands

I wonder what Lady Gotham is like

Undergoth

Sounds really scary. Kinda wanna meet her

Tuckerbell

Are you crazy?

Undergoth

Maybe a little

Jazz hands

Do you think writing her a thank-you letter would be too weird?

Undergoth

Nah send her an email

Tuckerbell

HAAAA

Jazz hands

-_-

Undergoth

Danny?

Tuckerbell

Might be asleep

Jazz hands

Oh god I hope somewhere safe

Undergoth

Maybe back in the Realms?

Tuckerbell

I mean its on read

Jazz hands

What if he gets jumped?

Tuckerbell

No ones gonna jump the ghost king

Jazz hands

I meant humans

Undergoth

Rip

Tuckerbell

Rip

Jazz hands

You guys are stressing me out

Undergoth

Hell be fine jazz

Danny cringed, laughing to himself a little sardonically. Woops… Should he tell Jazz or no? He didn’t want her to be more worried than she already was. Honestly, like, yeah, he almost got mugged. But not really. It was a really shitty attempt. It wasn’t like they could seriously hurt him anyways. But he didn’t like lying to her either…

Downplay it was.

          Phanny pack

          Yooo so ya I did fall asleep, my bad. Also I did technically get jumped but it was so bad, I just scared them off. But that was before I texted yall at the camp. Ppl around here seem okay actually. At least 50/50

He put the phone down, not expecting to get anything right away since it was so early but it buzzed again almost immediately. It was Sam. Makes sense, same time zone. She might be in class though.

Undergoth

Holy fuck danny

Make it through the night okay?

          Phanny pack

          Yeah actually. A ghost watched me while I slept

          Not as bad as it sounds

Undergoth

Wtf????

          Phanny pack

          She was really nice actually

          I gave her an offering this morning in return

Undergoth

Oh ancients, what did a Gotham ghost want from you??

          Phanny pack

          A quarter

Danny laughed aloud. It had been a hell of a morning. Hopefully they’d all stop worrying.

Undergoth

Okay… ignoring that for now. Where’d you end up sleeping?

          Phanny pack

          Oh just at the camp. It was fine

Undergoth

You were shot though. How are your injuries?

Danny winced. He didn’t want to lie. But it was fine. He was safe now after all. Probably.

Jazz hands

Danny! In the streets? Why didn’t you stay in the Realms for a bit? Or get a hotel?

Danny blinked. Paused. Looked away for a minute, then back to the phone.

          Phanny pack

          …I genuinely forgot that was an option. The hotel I mean

          Plus I don’t have a ton of money

Jazz hands

I’ll send you some

A pit formed in his gut, even though he knew it was irrational. He wasn’t doing terrible on cash at the moment, but weren’t hotels like a hundred bucks a night or something? Either way, it was… embarrassing? Like, obviously on one hand it was dumb to be embarrassed. Not like he could help not being able to keep a job, ever. But still. He should be more independent by now. Jazz was literally halfway across the country and still having to take care of him.

He sighed. He knew she wouldn’t see it that way. But still. It bothered him.

He shoved the phone back into his stomach, bringing his knees up to lean on them. He had some thinking to do. He wanted to be careful and take his time adjusting to the city, but this was a lot honestly. He absolutely knew he wouldn’t look for anywhere permanent until he had a few days here, just to be sure. A week or so should be enough, or probably less since Gotham wasn’t too far away from Happy Harbor. If they were going to detect the portal energy, it wouldn’t take them long to arrive. Still, better to cross that possibility off the list. In the meantime he could look for a job, although he had no idea what he’d be able to find at a whopping 20 years old with no degree or work experience. Maybe he could fabricate some? He hadn’t even looked at jobs since high school, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have time to spare.

And then. There was Hood.

Danny had felt Hood follow him shortly after leaving the alley with the blob ghost. Very unlikely those two things were unrelated.

He had kept his distance but it hadn’t been hard to feel it—the waves of… Sickness? Coming from the man. Definitely. Bad.

Danny wasn't even sure what he was feeling. But it felt wrong. Something was affecting him, but he couldn’t tell what from the distance. At the very least, the core wasn’t fully functioning. Or what Danny suspects might be a core. But that came with its own set of problems. Like, what had happened to cause partial core formation but not a complete one? Partial death was so rare it was almost unheard of. Discounting Ellie who wasn’t Death-born, it had only happened to two people in existence that he knew of. He needed to figure out what it was and if it was hurting him. He suspected it was, because it didn't feel healthy. But other than feeling gross and weird and wrong, Danny didn't know what it was. He needed to do a full diagnostic. Or bring him to Frostbite.

The one thing Danny had registered from the night before were the intense feelings of rage and general distrust. So. Not a great place to start. He wasn't sure if that was typical Bat Paranoia TM or if Hood could feel what Danny was, too. Or maybe like Danny, he could feel there was something different but didn't know what. Or why.

There were too many uncertainties. He could address them once he fully reconnected, but… How would that go?

Hi Bruce, it’s me, Danny, we’ve never met but I know you from the future, you gave me this time travelling code while I was trying to stop my evil future self from killing everyone. Also can I crash in your city a bit? Please say yes because I have no where else to go.

Danny shook his head. Maybe it was for emergencies only? He didn’t want to be in the way. Maybe it was selfish but… he was nervous. He felt like he had one shot at this. It wasn’t like he really knew the Bats. And they didn’t know him at all. What if they saw him as a threat?

But he also didn’t want Hood to be hurting. He needed to do something about it soon.

Since he wasn’t distracted by anything at the moment, and he was alert and relatively rested, he easily picked up on the sound of someone approaching from behind him. Off the path.

They were quiet but the soft shuffling of grass and cloth had him sitting up, quickly rising to half crouch— the adrenaline that came was unwanted, because for an instant he wondered if he'd been wrong about all this and the GIW were here and they found him—

But stepping from around the tree trunk, a good 10 feet or so away, was a woman who blended in with the lush scenery of the park, save for the vivid red hair that fell nearly to her waist.

His first reaction was to breathe a sigh of relief, and he put a hand to his chest to calm the erratic pounding. His second was, Ancients! Poison Ivy!

“Hello there,” she greeted him quietly. If she was surprised by his reaction, she hid it well. She was somewhat standing behind the tree, almost guarded or feigning shyness.

Her skin was as green as he'd seen in pictures—a vivid earthly shade that still seemed perfectly natural on her. Her outfit was all black with real leaves curling on either side of her torso and arms, and her thick hair was pulled to one side. She was watching him with an intensity that felt uncomfortably analytical.

“Whoa uh, hi? Startled me there.”

She stepped out from behind the tree. Danny began to feel like he was missing something. He didn’t know much about Gotham rogues, but this was unusual, right?

Danny looked around, worried there was something wrong with the scene. His eye caught the fast food bag with all his trash from lunch sitting on the ground next to the bench. "Um, I’m not polluting or nothin’, promise— I was gonna throw it away later when I left.”

She tilted her head, still examining him. "I figured as much. The Green told me you were here. They wouldn't have done so if you were a threat."

Danny blinked. That was a new one.

"....The green?”

“Yes, the Green,” she said, like it was obvious. Her brow furrowed. “The plants. You don’t feel them? They said there was someone here touched by the Green, they wouldn't have felt you if you weren't a protector of nature.”

Whoa, what? Danny was plant famous? Since when?

“Yo, really?” He grinned suddenly. That was so cool. What the fuck was she talking about though? Did he have a blessing from Undergrowth or something? They were the Ancient of Growth. But it wasn’t like Danny was particularly connected to them more than any other Ancient. For some reason the idea made him giddy, though. Did that mean there was a network of nature-connected people who could just, find him? Sam would be so jealous. Maybe he should get her a blessing, or whatever was causing this.

"But yeah no I have no idea what you're talking about,” he added.

“Interesting. You have a feel of the Green but... Not quite the same. You feel like a poisonous plant.”

His jaw dropped. “Okay. That’s gnarly.” He laughed and stood from the awkward crouch. “Name’s Danny by the way.”

He stuck out his hand. He still wasn’t sure what she wanted, if she wanted anything, but that was no reason to be rude.  

“Poison Ivy. Or Dr. Isley. Take your pick.” She shook it.

“Pleasure to meet you Dr. Isley. Sorry I stole your gimmick by accident. Are you actually poisonous?”

She seemed amused by his reaction. “When I want to be.”

“That’s badass. I have a ‘plant more trees’ patch!” He turned to let her see it. It was on the back between the bee patch and another that said ‘eat the rich’. “Sorry if it’s weird I’m excited. You're my friend’s favorite anti-hero! Or hero? I know that’s probably not the right term.”

“…Your friend has a favorite criminal?”

Despite her words she seemed to be holding back a smile, so he’d count it as a win.

He shrugged, not offering an explanation. It was a bit more nuanced than that, given the intent versus methods discussion, but it was more or less the truth.

“You know that I'm labelled by the American government as an eco-terrorist, right?”

“And? I'm labelled by the American government as an environmental hazard, so.” He shrugged again.

Maybe that was offering more information than he should with a random Gotham rogue, especially something this sensitive. But who would she be likely to tell? The cops? The Bats? At most other rogues but Ivy tended to be more of a lone wolf, from what he knew about her.

“A hazard?”

“You know that poison thing you mentioned? Probably whatever that is.”

She considered that. “My, you’re an odd one.”

He laughed again. This was such an entertaining conversation. “You have no idea.”

“What are you doing in the park?”

“Uh, just lunch? I’m actually new to town, so… If you’re wondering why you haven’t felt me before, that’s why.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t have anything going on today. I was making some tea before the plants told me there was a friend nearby. Want to come chat? It’s not often to find someone touched by nature in Gotham.”

Oh.

Wow. Were they friends now?

Was this dangerous?

Hell, did he care? I mean… maybe he should care. He was going to reconnect with the Bats. Would they distrust him for this? Would she, if she knew?

He must’ve hesitated too long, because she folded her arms over each other like she was retreating the offer.

“Ah, sorry! Sorry, um, I just wasn’t expecting that? I mean— I’m just some dude.”

“The plants say otherwise. You don’t have to.” She shrugged. “I could care less. But you’re welcome to if you like.”

“….Okay.”

He needed to get to know the city anyways. Also this was kind of cool. He wondered if she would be offended if he asked for an autograph.

Chapter Text

Danny whistled entering the large greenhouse that had been, from the outside, completely obscured by the dense trees and overgrowing vines. It was impressively large. He shrugged off his jacket coming inside—it was quite a bit warmer than the brisk autumn air outside. There were plants taller than anything natural he had ever seen. Monsteras touching the roof, flowers that looked exotic, even deadly. It could’ve passed for a ghost lair. He almost expected to find a Mario-esque piranha plant, but nothing tried to eat him walking through the crowded walkways.

He followed Ivy through weaving patterns until they reached an area that had been cleared to make some living space against one of the glass-paned walls. A couch, a low table, and a small, stovetop. It was homey.

He followed her movements as she picked up a teapot from where it had been set aside and continued adding herbs to the pot, pulling from dried flowers hanging nearby. Danny stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You can have a seat if you want. No one should be bothering us.”

He slinked into the closest chair, still taking in the greenhouse. “You live here alone? Do you grow your own food?”

She finished with the kettle, adding water and placing it on the stove. “My girlfriend stays here frequently. She’s here now actually but she sleeps in ‘till the afternoon. Tends to stay up late. And yes we have a garden.”

“Cool.” Very cottegecore.

She came back to sit on the couch adjacent to him.

He stopped gaping so it wouldn’t be rude.

She was smirking. “So. You like the plants but can’t feel the Green?”

“Yeah pretty much. Well I mean, I like plants but not like,” he gestured to the whole room, “maybe not this much. I know someone with powers similar to yours though, so I have a hunch that’s where it may be coming from. Could be wrong though, I’m not entirely sure. This is the first time someone’s mentioned it to me.”

“That’s intriguing. Are they well known?”

“Not at all. In fact I don’t know anyone who knows of them. We met under weird circumstances. And uh,” he winced, “they’re not very social. I don’t feel comfortable sharing that information, if that’s alright.”

She nodded, though he thought she looked disappointed.

“I understand. There are not many of us tuned to the Earth’s energies. I usually prefer isolation myself.”

He smiled a bit mischievously, but she caught it early. “My girlfriend’s an exception.”

“Fair,” he laughed, leaning back.

The tea began to whistle and she got up to take it off the heat. He stood to help and carried the tea to the table while she procured two cups.

Once poured, he hugged the cup, letting it warm his hands, and enjoyed the smells since it was too hot to drink.

“So you know how I said I was new to Gotham?”

She nodded, leaning back comfortably, tucking her legs beneath her.

“Well, I mean like, really new. Trying to figure my way around. Do you have any like, uh, tips maybe?”

She didn’t answer immediately, just continued to swirl her cup contemplatively. “That’s a hard one, kid. Gotham isn’t exactly the friendliest of places.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “I know. I’ve heard as much. But uh, still.”

“Okay,” she looked up, organizing her thoughts. “Well. Let’s start with the simple stuff. You know about the rogue attacks here, right?”

“Oh yeah. On the news like every other week.”

“Yeah. Some of them are real asshats. You’ll want to stay as far away as possible from the worst ones. Joker of course is the worst. Scarecrow puts a lot of people in the hospital, too. Pretty much anytime you see gas of any kind, run. It’s nasty.”

He nodded. He didn’t share that he could hold his breath indefinitely, but that tidbit definitely gave him an advantage.

“Don’t take up gooning if you can help it. A lot of desperate people go for it because it pays well, but the Bats put just as many people in the hospital, and you don’t want to get on their bad side.”

He nodded nervously. “Heh, yeah, wasn’t planning on it…” He finally tried the tea. It was strong. It was a subtle kind of sweetness. Pretty good. He was usually a coffee person. “What about the neighborhoods? I’m gonna start looking for a job and stuff, and maybe an apartment? But the city is huge.”

“Hmm. True, there’s a lot that happens here. You get used to it, though. Let’s see…” she tapped her cup. “The district closest to the bench you were at was the Narrows, borders the Bowery. Also right next to Crime Alley.”

He made a face. “Crime Alley? What,” he started sarcastically, “does all the crime happen there?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, original, right? Nah, crime happens everywhere, kid. Crime Alley’s just the worst. Burglary, robbery, assault, shootings. Lot of gangs. It’s also controlled by Red Hood.”

A lightbulb went off somewhere in Danny’s head. Ah.

“Hood actually got in a turf war with the Batman himself a few years back, but its settled out a bit,” she added.

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. Really? He thought all the Bats were on good terms. That complicated things. He had been assuming all of them worked together. Would Hood trust the code Bruce gave him? He hadn’t sensed any kind of animosity when he had been in the future. He wondered if they were cooperating out of necessity or if they just got along better in that timeline.

She began rattling off a few more places. The shiny buildings on the other side of the park were in the Diamond district. He made sure to file all the information to sort through later. He was seriously considering taking himself on a little ghost tour around Gotham to get a feel for the territories.

“I’m assuming you know about Arkham.”

He made a face. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yeah well, just checking” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “That’s another area you’ll want to stay clear of, for obvious reasons. It’s near the industrial side of the city, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“They should stick it on an island like they did at Alcatraz,” he mused aloud.

“Gotham’s a major port city. I doubt they’d want to patrol the waters for escapees when you have shipments coming in.”

He hadn’t considered that. He decided to switch topics. He was pretty sure Ivy had been placed in Arkham before, and he didn’t want to linger on the subject. Jazz had, in the past, frequently expressed her opinions on the infamous insane asylum. Because most of the ‘patients’ weren’t actually clinically insane, they were just stigmatized people or villains that Gotham PD wanted to put in place. It was more of a punishment than a true hospital. They didn’t have any genuine rehabilitation programs, so it was more akin to a prison. So maybe treating it like Alcatraz was actually pretty counterproductive.

“Hm. How safe is the area ‘round Gotham U?”

She hummed. “You’re interested in college? Good on you. Don’t let them scam you into loans though, it’s just a trap. But I’d say it’s fairly safe, by Gotham standards. It’s the poor people college though, the private college in Old Gotham is in a nicer area, but targeted more.”

He laughed. “I’m okay with poor people college. I’m not really in a place to shoot high. I probably won’t even apply for a while anyways, poor man’s tuition is still ungodly expensive.”

She toasted with her tea. “Steal the textbooks if you can, or get them online. Not worth the cost.”

“You just told me not to goon but now you’re telling me to start stealing?”

She shrugged. “Just don’t get caught.”

Danny liked Ivy, he really did. She was being very nice to him, indulging all his questions, treating him like a real guest. She had excellent vibes. But she was still a rogue and probably on the Bat’s radar herself. So this was the kind of thing he needed to take with a grain of salt.

 “What do you want to major in?”

“Engineering, probably? Not really sure actually. I used to be interested in aerospace stuff, but I don’t see that being an option anymore. My grades in high school weren’t great. Hell, I might not even try to enroll. I was just curious.”

She looked impressed nevertheless. “You good at math?”

He shrugged with a smirk. That was always people’s first reaction. “I’m good with tools. I like building stuff. That’s about it.”

“Hm.” Something in her gaze shifted. “That’s pretty specific though.”

He made a so-so gesture with the hand not holding his tea. “Not really. There’s loads of stuff you can do with it. It’s basically just advanced problem solving.”

“Very interesting…” she hummed, going back to her tea.

Danny did the same, appreciating the quiet moment. He wanted to ask some more about the city, but he also didn’t want to just pester her with questions either. He should probably bring up something other than his own self interests.

“What’s this type of tea? It’s really good.”

“Mango and rose petal. One of my favorites.” She seemed pleased with the praise.

“Oh that makes sense then, mangoes are great. I feel so fancy,” he laughed, twirling the cup to stir the tea like she was doing.

She chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”

He thought that had been a good segue to normal conversation, but she switched back to their previous topic.

“How good would you say you are at problem solving, approximately?”

He frowned. Why did this suddenly feel like an interview? He hadn’t asked her for a job reference like he had Duke from Happy Harbor. “Um… moderately good? Really depends on the problem, I guess?”

She smiled, averting her gaze with a light huff. “Apologies. I wasn’t trying to pry. I just have a problem I’m trying to sort out myself. I shouldn’t be asking.”

Ohhhh, if he was a cat, he’d be dead. Deader. He so had to know.

“What kind of problem?”

Her gaze drifted back to his. “Ah. Well. I guess you could say a mechanical malfunction. I have a project I’m working on but I haven’t been able to get it to work at all. If you’d like to see it, I’m curious what you’d take from it.”

He paused, thinking carefully. She was being vague. This kind of felt like a negotiation now. Dora’s voice popped up to lecture formalities in his head—Agree to nothing until you know the terms. It is by twisting favors that they will seek dominance. Finally he just shrugged, setting his cup down. Maybe it was mundane. Like a broken coffee maker. Maybe their shower wasn’t working.

“I can take a look, but no promises.”

“Of course.” She stood, setting her cup on the table. 

He followed once more, this time a little more alert. It wasn’t more than 50 paces before the plants stopped and there was a large space scattered with tools and stray vines. In the center was a massive platform with a large, completely foreign-looking machine on top. It reminded him of a modified car garage. It also kind of made him nostalgic, weirdly enough.

She was quiet as he was taking it in but watching intently for his reaction.

“What is it?”

“It’s a seed spreader.”

He raised a brow. It was like, the size of a small room. Massive, chunky, covered metal sheets had been welded together. Most of it was brown with rust. Everything looked completely mismatched. He was intimately familiar with the idea of junk inventions.

“How big a fuckin’ garden?” he joked, but this was sending off red flags. Still, damn fucking curiosity made him climb up to the platform as he began to circle it, taking in the interior where metal had been removed to examine the insides. It was filled with massive gears and pipes.

“It’s somewhat of an experiment.” Vague again—very, very vague. He noticed she was using some of the vines to lift herself off the ground by the waist, sort of following him as he examined it. He was slowly piecing together how the parts moved, but most of it was still covered. The top seemed to be exposed, so he climbed up on that too to look down inside it. He tilted his head, fitting the pieces together in his mind. There were four massive engines, all different models, positioned around the center, where a massive pipe was coming from below. He guessed that’s where the ‘seeds’ were to come out. They would need to be projected upwards though, possibly using a giant fan or something. He could already see where the wiring wasn’t perfect connecting each of the motors—that was likely part of the problem, at least.

He didn’t say that though.

He was itching to grab some tools and just start tinkering, just to see if he could do it. But that kind of thinking had literally gotten him killed before, so he turned back to Ivy instead.

“This is a really large project… Can I ask why you need a seed spreader this big? It looks like it would cover the entire park.”

She seemed somewhat proud of his remark. “Not just Robinson Park. I believe this would be powerful enough to cover all of Gotham.” She lightly set herself down on the machine, about 5 feet away from him, and crossed her arms casually.

Super-villain sirens were going off in his head. He had been right. He wondered if just being here made him an accomplice in the Bat’s eyes. He needed to be very careful with his next words.

“I see. That seems like it would make an interesting thought exercise. Not so sure about logistics though.”

She shrugged. “You’ve seen the city, or some of it. What do you think of Gotham?”

Beautiful, dreary, Lady Gotham had said. The words like shrapnel scraped by his thoughts.

“I think there is a lot to mourn, and a lot to embrace,” he said honestly. “There’s potential in broken things, though.”

“It’s disgusting,” she finally snapped, breaking her composure for the first time. Danny was careful not to outwardly react. “They pollute the Earth with waste, plastic, and cover it with dead things. None of it is Green. My park is the only large living area left standing, and they’ve tried to take it from me many times. All they care about is money, they’ll exploit anything in their path to get what they want. The air, the water, the ground—it’s all been ruined by humanity.”

Somewhere in her rant, he was sure she had shifted from referring to Gotham to referring to the entire world.

Danny had heard this kind of reasoning before. From Undergrowth, from Sam even. The problem was that, they weren’t necessarily wrong. He agreed with them in principle, but not in method. This was exactly the kind of difficult conversation he had been hoping to avoid with Ivy. Because she was an extremist and would take any criticism of her values as an attack. He agreed with people like Sam—who took action through protest and political change. Because that was the only real way to solve these kinds of problems.

“I agree that people harm the planet far beyond what ecosystems can handle. But,” he paused for emphasis, “would re-planting seeds over dead Earth and buildings really help with that? I’m assuming you can make all the plants grow, which is grand, but none of it would survive long-term. It would just cause structural damages and unknown economic stress on the people here.”

She smirked. “I don’t need to spread seeds. The Green can do that on their own.”

His brow furrowed, glancing back down to the giant seed spreader they were standing on. “Then what..?”

She held up her hand, and a puff of yellow powder appeared from what looked like pores that unnaturally grew from her palm. Pollen. Ivy had been on the news before, too, of course.

“I can spread my own influence, and when all of the people are gone from Gotham, nature will retake her own.”

Danny paled slightly, but otherwise remained calm. Maybe he hadn’t done so good with his vibe check.

“That’s mass murder.”

“Billionaires kill thousands of people every day. Are they arrested for mass murder? The government uses all its resources to incite and maintain wars, killing for power, all while facing no consequences.”

Yeah, I’m aware, he wanted to say. The government has probably spent millions trying to kill me.

“We fight to protect our own,” she continued. “That’s how it has always been. Nature is brutal—she is not kind. And in Gotham? People kill each other here every day. Do you know how many people die just because someone else was stupid, or cruel, or trying to get ahead?”

Or randomly murdered, he thought, thinking of Emma. She had died for no reason.

Danny breathed slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. Maybe that debate about nuance needed to happen after all. He leveled a cool gaze towards her.

“There’s several errors in that reasoning, and I think you’re smart enough to know it, Dr. Isely.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You are a protector of nature. Do you not take offense at the blatant misuse of power in this city?”

“I do. I can get plenty mad. But you’re assigning the blame, and the punishments, to the wrong people. A vast majority of Gotham aren’t people who pollute and destroy by choice. From what I’ve seen, and statistically what is true for a majority of the Earth’s populace, people pollute because they’re poor, desperate, and are presented with no other accessible options. I bought a Batburger meal today, because I’m homeless and have no where to go, so I buy cheap food. Does that make me morally corrupt, for supporting a mega-corporation? What about a mother who works over-time and struggles to make rent, so she buys plastic-wrapped food for her children? What about the middle-class family who try to recycle, but buy unsustainable products because they don’t know any better? Or because corporations smother sustainable competition? Or because they’re barely better off than the people living on the streets? Or any number of reasons why people make decisions that inadvertently hurt the environment. If anything, that argument could be better applied to the select few, very few in fact, who actually do make the decisions you’re discussing. I’m talking like corrupt politicians, and yeah, most billionaires. And—”

She had been listening to his words previously with a mixture of denial and discomfort, and he had a hunch she knew he was right, but at the mention of the extremely rich, her anger returned tenfold.

“All billionaires are evil,” she retorted hotly.

Danny bit his lip. He really, really wanted to counter this. Without making himself suspicious. But also this was Gotham so…

“What about Bruce Wayne?”

“What?” The question shocked her enough to snap her out of it again. She searched his face and he spread his hands open placatingly.

“Bruce Wayne. Well-known philanthropist, donates billions of dollars every year to all sort’s of good shit. Does good work. Is a good person.” This was… definitely getting too close to home… Too close to something truthful about him. But he couldn’t help it. Bruce Wayne was famous for his charity. Before his time-traveling spree, Danny had never kept up with any celebrities of any kind. But knowing that Bruce was Batman, he had kept his eyes on the news a little more often. Bruce’s company was famous for its sustainability efforts, charity organizations, and targeted political backings. It was impressive, Danny thought, to be playing the game and not get sucked into the greed of it all.

Ivy seemed to soften a little at the mention. “Fine. I suppose, Mr. Wayne is a notable exception. But one man cannot change the trend humanity has set for itself.”

Danny shrugged. “One man doesn’t have to. That’s what people are for. My best friend’s majoring in political science, with a focus on environmental justice. Because change can happen with cooperation and determination and coalition. And yeah, maybe peaceful protests get violent sometimes, and maybe violence is just more effective sometimes when all’s they care about is money. But I don’t think it should be the default. And that violence doesn’t have to be directed towards random people. Because a vast majority of people are good, even if they’re ignorant, or misinformed, or victims of propaganda. But we can’t change the world by murdering everyone in it.”

She snarled at him, eyes flaring. "Such a hypocrite. You’re literally wearing a battle jacket that says ‘eat the rich’. And now you're defending them?"

"Okay, no, I just said that a vast majority of rich people are garbage humans who definitely deserve to be on the menu. But I'm trying to prove that there is no single category of people that exists that deserve equally bad treatment, and thus you cannot make blanket punishments without hurting good people.”

A beat passed and he winced. "Well, maybe except for Nazis. They all should die." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is why only the Sith deals in absolutes,” he added under his breath.

Ivy's fists clenched but she didn't move to attack. "You're all bark and no bite. You think sitting here asking nicely while the world burns will get anything done?"

"Who said you have to ask nicely?"

"You are, right now.”

"No, I said you should ask roughly but without mass murder. Just leave that part out.  Especially when your methods are going to affect innocent people." He gestured to the giant machine beneath them. "This isn't necessary."

"They're all miserable anyways.”

That was probably true. The city herself was a testament to the feeling.

"Doesn’t mean they deserve to die. And even if some of them wished for death, that still wouldn’t make it right to take that decision away from them. Because overwhelmingly, people choose to live. It’s a conscious choice. And even those who are so depressed, so hopeless, that they choose not to—people like that deserve to be fought for. That's who we should be fighting for, because if any group of people are truly at that stage, there's something terribly wrong that made them like that, and fighters like us should be trying to fix it. To help them. What’s the point of a green Earth if it's soaked through with blood?"

Her breathing was coming heavier but she slowly seemed to be calming. The heat was gone from her eyes but was shaking slightly, though he couldn't tell if it was anger or remorse.

"And who are you fighting? What's your battle?”

Danny smiled, though he knew it must've looked forced. In truth, he was tired of fighting. He was tired of it all. He was so tired. The kind of tired you could feel in your bones that sometimes made you actually think of giving up. The kind of tired that might have won if Lady Gotham hadn't given him an out. "The transient, the restless, and those whose cries are silent.”

It was vague. More poetic than he needed to be. Too much of his Kingly speech was coming out now. But there was no real way to say he fought for ghosts....and in truth, he wasn't really. Other than by keeping the GIW focused on him than other ghosts, he stopped fighting a long time ago. All he did now was run away. The realization actually made him feel ashamed.

Would they begin again, once he had truly lost them? Would they go hunt more of his people?

Despite the sudden tightness in his throat, he purposefully kept his own posture visibly relaxed, though he was ready to jump out of the way if she lunged.

Then he noticed unshed tears in her eyes, and Danny actually felt guilty.

“I’m—look, I’m with you, okay? I get it. Pollution and capitalism are horrible fucking things to exist. But I think you know that your plans won’t actually help the Earth. And we both know the Earth will be here long after humans are extinct anyways. The Green isn’t going anywhere. What you’re wanting is revenge, not justice.”

Danny jolted.

Damn—he had, by accident, damn-near quoted Bruce. Batman Bruce. Holy shit.

“To understand you correctly, this ghost who was formed from… you, from our timeline, lost everything. So he is seeking to take everything from everyone else.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, yeah,” Danny had agreed uncertainly.

“That will not be the kind of person easy to negotiate with. He doesn’t actually want justice, he wants revenge on the world.”

Danny had gulped nervously. “Yeah. That’s what my mentor said. That he wouldn’t be reasoned with.”

“That’s very unfortunate. I’ve found that most people are capable of being saved, even if they think they’re too far gone. I wish that could be true now.”

“I do too. I don’t want to do this.”

He snapped back to the present, shaking his head slightly. Great, now Poison Ivy was crying and he himself was near tears. He should have trusted his gut earlier and not even offered to look at the project.

Ivy sighed though, letting her shoulders fall as her fists unclenched, and the tension faded with it. She laughed a little wryly, and Danny smiled through his own tears, even though he was crying for a different reason.

“God, I’m so pathetic. Over here ignoring logic just to satisfy my own need to hurt someone… Worse than a man,” she shook her head, and Danny couldn’t help but snort.

Her face softened. “I’m sorry hun, I—I shouldn’t have put any of this on you. I guess I’m a broken person myself.”

He shrugged, finally feeling it was safe enough again to approach her. “Hey, it’s okay. We all need grounding sometimes. I’ve lost my temper before, and it’s not fun. Can I give you a hug?”

She startled, giving him an odd look.

“Hugs help me sometimes. No pressure though.” He even held his hands up for assurance he wouldn’t impose himself.

She laughed helplessly, flicking a tear, and throwing an arm over his shoulder in a friendly side hug.

He grinned, returning it, and hopped down off the giant machine as she reached for vines to lower herself from it.

“My, this day has been… A mess. I’m a mess, I suppose.” She wiped her face. Both back on the ground floor, she looked up at the giant thing. “I’ve been working on this for so long now… I don’t even know what I should be doing anymore.”

“You don’t have to be working constantly, you know.” We all need breaks, Jazz tells him frequently. “You could spend some time chilling, or resting, or figuring out your next goals. Hang out with your girlfriend and drink tea. Real yolo time.”

Usually when Ivy laughed, it was a bit dainty, subdued like a delicate flower. A flower with thorns, but still. The bark of laughter that broke out of her was rough sounding and Danny grinned again.

She wiped a tear, but this time it was a happy one. “You’re an odd kid, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” A beat passed. “Hey uh, Dr. Isley?”

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you just tell me not to take up gooning?”

◇◆◇

Batman had been deeply troubled when Cass called in to report, from her daily run, that Poison Ivy had been spotted on a public path in Robinson Park. Not only was it rare for Ivy to appear as such in the middle of the day, but Cass said she had approached a civilian, started conversation, and left with him. She didn’t have a uniform on her and was too far away from any safe houses where extras would be stored, so she had followed at a distance. Cass was probably one of his only kids that could successfully stalk a villain in civilian clothes and not be seen at all, so Bruce had allowed it as long as she was careful not to intervene (which was difficult for all of them during out-of-suit situations). He had been ready at the cave with the Batmobile on standby in case he needed to arrive to rescue said civilian. But in the end it hadn’t been necessary.

Contrary to either their assumptions, the entire exchange went down peaceably, even amicably.

Batman was surprised the young man had actually managed to deescalate Ivy, especially when she was in one of her more emotional outbursts. He had been monitoring the case remotely, even having sent Red Robin in once to partially dismantle and misalign parts to keep her construction nonfunctional. Per standard protocol, hidden cameras were placed throughout the common areas of every known villain hideout, including the greenhouse, as a way to keep an eye on their activity. Except that over the past several months, most of them had been found and destroyed, leaving only one in the upper corner of the machine room.

Once he got the call from Black Bat and had logged into the device he was frustrated to discover it was completely overgrown by foliage, blocking all visuals entirely. Which left Batman only audio to work with.

Black Bat wasn’t geared up of course, so she only had her phone audio available to supplement it.

Not ideal circumstances by any stretch.

He couldn’t hear much of the conversation from the main room with just the distant cell phone, but Black Bat would report everything later. What he did have access to was the entire confrontation about the seed spreader and her plans with it.

It had been a shock to hear a civilian advocate for Bruce Wayne of all people, while in a moral debate with a well-known super-villain. Sure, he was well known in Gotham, but the civilian had admitted to being an outsider. Likely he had picked an example that Ivy would know and be familiar with, which was tactically sound and surprisingly effective. Batman would have never thought to appeal to her rage in such a way. By pointing out fallacies through mere outliers or by redirecting her rage to a more controlled target. Then again, it was likely only strange because Bruce Wayne was Batman.

But still. Hearing those words from another person—albeit a rather radical individual… it was just different. Bruce never expected acknowledgement for the work he did publicly because in his mind, it was literally the least he could do given the unusually good fortune he’d been born into. But hearing that made him realize some of his work was fulfilling its main purpose—giving people hope.  

Black Bat ended up needing to stay another full hour after the small confrontation, during which 'Danny' chatted with Ivy and eventually Harley, when she emerged, like old friends. The best that they had been able to determine was that Danny was somehow connected to the ‘Green’ that Ivy was so closely attuned to, but it wasn’t something either of them explained once Harley woke up to join them (there had actually been a brief, smaller confrontation when Harley saw Ivy crying without explanation and jumped to conclusions, but Danny had dodged in time to avoid the oversized hammer swinging down from behind).

“Harley! This is our guest, what are you doing?!”

“He made you cry! What’sa matter, sweetheart, want me to kill ‘em?”

“No! No, love, this is Danny. A friend of the Green.”

“Oh!” She had dropped the hammer with a thud. “Well in that case, hi’ya!”

The rest of their meeting had been surprisingly mundane. Nothing else was mentioned that could be used for identification. Batman had already added the person to a list of possible suspects with the minimal information they had available, only out of an abundance of caution. It was always good practice to know who had connections with the underground networks in Gotham.

They would have likely had more information about Danny, if Black Bat had been able to locate him afterwards. But she’d been unable to, which was rare. Cass was quick, wickedly acute in her senses, and had visual on him the entire time, until Ivy escorted him out of the building and Cass had diverted around the perimeter to avoid being seen. When she emerged, he had completely disappeared.

There were no footprints, no disturbances in the ground or trees nearby. Just vanished. Their only clue was that whatever connection the Green had to Danny must have concealed him. There’s no other way any living person would be able to lose Black Bat.

And with no other avenues to pursue, Cass had opted to finish her daily run, leaving Batman to type notes on the audio and add it to their files on Ivy’s plans. If the man was successful, and Ivy truly gave up the project and focus on other things (hopefully of the legal kind), he’d be both impressed and grateful. While Bruce wasn’t sure he entirely agreed with all of Danny’s arguments, if it allowed Ivy to start taking steps in the right direction, then he couldn’t truly fault it. For now, it remained as an active case until further notice.

◇◆◇

It had been around three days since Danny had arrived in Gotham, two since he accidentally befriended Poison Ivy and her girlfriend, who he learned was the Harley Quinn. He had started to call her Dr. Quinzel, just so both women were treated with the same respect, but she’d insisted on dropping the honorific once she decided his head was allowed to remain on his shoulders. He totally gets being protective though, so he hadn’t held anything against her.

He made a point not to stay too long though. One, Ivy needed some time to fully decompress and he didn’t want to impose. She seemed to be working through some rather severe cognitive dissonance about her own identity—that kind of thing was not the type that could be processed with strangers around. Two, super-villain lair. Although he felt like he could trust them, personally, he didn’t want to inadvertently get caught in trouble if something were to come up. He’d probably visit again though, they’d given him an open invitation to drop by. And three of course, time to explore Gotham. Finally.

He’d gone ghost to fly around and really take in the city, making a point to at least locate and partially scan each district Ivy had mentioned. Some were easy, others were harder to distinguish based on description alone. Sometimes ghosts helped him out, and other times they wanted to fight for entering their territories. He mostly avoided those, since there wasn’t an actual need to explore everywhere fully. A few ghosts wanted to brawl, feeling excited the Ghost King would be staying in Gotham, and he promised a few he’d meet with them in a week or so, to give himself time to heal and make sure the GIW were staying away. Then sure, he’d indulge some friendly brawls.

He was going to be sure to portal over to the Realms though, just to keep things safe. He had noticed several unexplainable series of damages throughout the city, like a large crack in a brick building or busted store signs where some of the letters didn’t work, which could have been attributed to general maintenance problems. But could just as well have been caused by the large number of ghosts in the nearby haunts, so.

From what Danny could gather, there was a ton of ghosts in Gotham. Way more than other cities he’s visited. Some had been haunting the city for several decades while some stayed only a few months before their souls either faded as they found peace or naturally succumbed to the pull of the Infinite Realms, and they would drift out of this dimension. The high turnover of human to ghost to departing apparently caused enough turmoil that ghosts constantly fought over their mini territories, which lined up with what Lady Gotham had said to him. Danny also noticed that the ghosts didn’t seem to have as much control over their sub-territories than a ghost normally would, which Danny suspected was due to the fact that their haunts were partially controlled by the elder ghost herself. It seemed confusing—so it wasn’t surprising that fights broke out pretty often, and explained why Danny felt like he could sense multiple haunts overlapping one another in some areas. He’d never felt this kind of mixing in ghost haunts before. It kind of felt like discovering a new type of ecosystem.

The whole thing kind of reminded him of how hermit crabs would all trade shells to find the ones that best matched their needs. Or, actually scratch that. More accurately, it was like chickens with their pecking orders and hierarchies. Because there wasn’t always a polite trade, even if there was a lot of shuffling. There was hostility, an abrasiveness to the whole thing, but at the same time they were all keenly aware they weren’t really the head rooster. Still, instead of amicably finding the best solution for each other individually, they sabotaged one another and fought over the little things. Like siblings.

Did you steal my shirt from my closet? You went into my room?!

I stole it back, you fuck-weasel, it was mine to begin with!

So on and so forth.

But instead of clothes it was buildings or alleys or trees or street lamps or any number of random things the Gotham ghosts staked their territories to. Danny and Jazz had never had that problem growing up, but then again, they had very different interests. And not exactly a normal upbringing.

What Danny wasn’t sure was where he would fit into the picture. He was still partly bound, by choice, to the rules of the living. AKA if he wanted an apartment, he may not get much choice in where exactly it was located. Danny wasn’t even sure if he wanted to make a formal haunt here—he didn’t want to offend Lady Gotham, even though he’d been invited here, and he also wasn’t sure how permanent this may be yet. Or what if he had to move? The Ghost King moving his haunt frequently within the city would probably cause a lot of disruptions to the locals. He didn’t want to start any fights—mostly because he knew he would win and he didn’t want to seriously hurt anyone. But other ghosts may be compelled to pick fights with him. And haunts weren’t always intentionally placed. Danny was worrying a fair bit about how his stronger ecto-energies would affect the dynamics of the city.

Which was probably dumb. Lady Gotham hadn’t seemed bothered taking him in, so maybe he was overthinking things. But then again, she was also perfectly content with a good amount of antagonism. She didn’t care how many ghosts faded in her haunt, whereas Danny was specifically trying to avoid being labelled as a tyrant.

He hadn’t run into any of the Bats again either. His first night had been a bit of a disaster—stumbling into Robin and then narrowly missing a confrontation with Red Hood, which Danny had only found out how close he had been to fucking that up afterwards. Finding Hood again was actually in his top three priorities at the moment, below picking Sam up from the airport and above checking in with the Council (and Cujo, to keep his promise).

Speaking of Hood, Danny was pretty sure he haunted that fucking alley, Park Row. The creepy one he’d run into his first night. And if Hood was reacting to haunt invasions, it supported his theory that he was developing, or had developed, a core. Danny would have expected someone like Hood though to be crazy strong by ghost standards, but his haunt was frequently disturbed by other ghosts. So it supported his theory that Hood didn’t know what he was. Which, Danny knew from experience, was a very difficult discussion to have with someone.

But back to Sam. He hadn’t expected for any of his friends to visit quite so soon. All of them were still in the middle of their semesters after all—he’s pretty sure they had midterms recently? But Sam had apparently booked a flight the same night he texted them he’d be staying in Gotham for an extended period. To be fair, she was in the same time zone and was only staying the weekend. Tucker and Jazz would have a harder time making trips, so they were all waiting for winter break. But not Sam. Sam said fuck that shit, as per usual. He was so fucking excited to see her though.

Coming in fourth on his to-do list was what he was dubbing the Plan B Situation. Or the Bruce conundrum. How to reconnect a second time. It didn’t help Danny panicked a little every time he thought about it. Because on one hand, he desperately wanted to reach out like, yesterday. To finally tell Bruce how much he had helped Danny, to thank him, to finally get to say all the things he’s been wanting to over the past four years. Just seeing Bruce again, as himself, without having to hide, to see him alive and breathing and healthy again. He wanted it more than anything right now. But it would probably be weird to hear all that coming from some unknown ally from the future. And then there would probably be questions, and they’d want details, and they might even interrogate him, who knew. The world’s greatest (or second greatest now?) detective didn’t get the title by saying ‘Okay that sounds great! I’m perfectly content with the information you’ve provided so far and I won’t need any more!’

Which meant explaining his death (already a hard topic), because y’know, ghosts, and also how Danny wasn’t really fully dead, and also probably same for Red Hood, which was likely to be a triggering subject, and also what he had been doing in the future and—Danny was spiraling again.

Luckily, his train of thought was loudly interrupted by the intercom that sounded above, announcing that Sam’s plane had just landed, and that was plenty enough to distract him. He’d been so preoccupied the past couple days, focusing mostly on scouting the ghost territories in Gotham, that it hadn’t fully registered in his brain that he’d finally get to see one of his best friends for longer than a couple hours. In the past they’d always kept it painfully brief—even though he may have technically been able to stay up to a few days over the past several years, he had been terrified, just like Jazz in Chicago, of the GIW picking up on the connection to Amity. So their meet-ups were always ridiculously short and bittersweet.

Danny wasn’t actually very familiar with airports but it was insanely overstimulating. He’d never flown but Sam was a bit of an expert at it, so he was waiting by baggage claim for her to find him, rather than the other way around. He turned when he heard heavy footsteps beating rapidly towards him and turned to see her full on sprinting his way.

They both squealed in tandem as he ran to meet her, and they clashed in a violent hug that almost sent them both to the ground.

“Danny! Holy shit! You’re in Gotham!” she screamed, giggling, and Danny was laughing, swinging them both in a circle, uncaring of the slightly judgmental people staring at them nearby.

“I know! I missed you so much! And now you’re here!”

Finally he set her down as they held onto each other for balance. His face hurt from how wide he was smiling. He finally paused to get a good look at her. She was grinning just as hard, but neither of them could hold the gaze very long before laughter bubbled out uncontrollably. Everything was suddenly hilarious as they began wheezing for air. Once recovered, he hugged her as tight as he felt he could without breaking ribs.

When she pulled back from him, her face was determined and she jabbed a finger to the middle of his chest demandingly.

“I need the full story, stat.”

“I already texted you guys the whole thing!” he objected.

“I need more details and you know it, Nightingale. What did she look like? Was the tea good? Did you get her number? Any pictures?”

“No,” he said with a laugh, reaching into his backpack without breaking eye contact, “but I did get this.”

He pulled out a book titled ‘Toxic Plants and How to Identify Them,’ which had been his idea to keep the gift safe.

He handed it off to watch as she read the title appreciatingly, while Danny was struggling to hold back his giddiness, and let her open the cover to find a single paper inside protecting a perfectly preserved, pressed amaryllis. Her eyes widened in shock, but then doubly so as her mouth dropped once she saw the signature below:

Become ungovernable. -Dr. Pamela Isley XOXO

Sam screamed so loud that Danny had to clamp a hand over her mouth, pressing against her in a side hug to muffle it, since he noticed security beginning to make their way over with all the commotion that wasn’t dying down.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day, Bruce decided, even though he had only been in the office for five hours. Three of those were consumed with rushed meetings of people wanting his review and approval on things, since he didn’t make daily visits in. Always a headache, but necessary. He had a full hour to focus on his own work before his secretary said Tim would be delivering an update to their stakeholders, so he made sure to attend that as well. Tim handled this kind of work naturally—much more so than Bruce in fact. And the stakeholders felt like they were getting a good idea of the longevity of the company coming from someone Tim’s age more than himself.

The meeting had gone flawlessly, as expected. They secured additional funding for their engineering department, which was often a focus of the company. Tim had opted to stay late to wrap up paperwork while Bruce excused himself around 2:30. When possible, he liked to pick up Damian from school personally, even though Alfred was always available.  

He did his best to positively reinforce mundane activities like that, so his youngest didn’t feel so undermined. Damian had expressed before he felt like he was pushed to the background when forced to endure these “trivial activities” when none of the others were. Not considering the very relevant fact that there was a minimum three year age gap between him and any of the other kids. To his mind, age was less relevant than true skill. They had agreed he would finish one year of middle school before skipping a grade, and at least one year of high school before they re-evaluated. Damian of course, had wanted to skip public school entirely, already having a college-level understanding of many fields, but it had been important for his transition early on, and they were still determining the benefits of continuing it.

Pulling into the parking lot, it was less than a minute before Damian yanked the door open and slammed it shut.

Oh dear.

“You alright, chum?”

“Just drive, Father.”

Bruce sometimes (oftentimes?) made blunders when it came to his children. But he knew when to drop a subject. He reversed and re-entered the busy street without comment.

There was an hour before Cass would be done with her dance lessons. He cleared his throat to speak to the smart-device in the car.

“Text Cassandra. Want a pick-up or do you have a ride?” The manor was fairly out of the way by Gotham standards.

Damian was still sulking so Bruce carefully weighed his options.

“Would you like to grab a bite while we’re out?”

Damian didn’t answer right away but traffic was a bit slow anyways, so there was time.

“Pennyworth will be slighted if we are not ready for dinner.”

“Alfred will be fine. Dinner isn’t for a couple hours, but we don’t have to if you’d prefer to go home.”

There was a pause, and Bruce thought that was his answer, until Damian spoke again, softer.

“I’ve heard a restaurant near here rumored to have excellent plant-based kebabs that I would not be opposed to trying.”

Bruce smiled, tapping the GPS input in the car. “Want to enter it? Kebabs sound delicious.”

Damian tapped away at the console while Bruce began searching for the nearest parking garage. This part of Gotham always had pretty limited parking. It took maybe ten minutes to arrive at the nearest garage, but instead of paying for a valet, he wanted to give Damian time to say anything he needed to get out. Once parked on the third floor and the GPS indicated it was a mere 15 minutes away, he finally leaned back to relax.

“Would you like to talk about?”

“What’s the point,” Damian bit out, crossing his arms in a huff. “You’ll just tell me it’s necessary for my public persona anyways.”

Mm. He wanted to quit school again.

“Is there something in particular that’s bringing this up again?”

“There never was an again, Father. It’s an always. The children who attend these deplorable American schools are ill-disposed, unrefined, and disgustingly juvenile. They have no sense of honor or responsibility.”

“Of course they’re going to be juvenile, Damian, they are children.”

“Poor excuses of sons and daughters, more like. For the amount their parents pay to attend these supposedly sophisticated establishments, their attention to education and interpersonal interactions is disappointing.”

“Most kids your age don’t worry about things like that.” He paused. He had said ‘interpersonal’. “Did someone say something to you? I’ve asked you to tell me if anything of that nature becomes a problem.” Bullying was something Damian ran into frequently, but his youngest didn’t see it as bullying, so it was difficult to discern at times.

Damian sighed. “Not to me directly. The class was too rambunctious with the weekend approaching and the teacher was having difficulty controlling them. I commented aloud that if they were to simply focus on the essay due rather than complaining about it, then it wouldn’t be nearly the chore they think it is. A good number of them need to improve their English anyways. And…” Damian’s lip curled back, but he refused to look at Bruce. “They all laughed. Some of them tried to block me from leaving after class had ended, to which I informed them that their patelas would do poorly if relocated to their objectively weak spines. They didn’t even know what bone I was threatening to displace,” he admitted bitterly, almost sullenly.

Bruce closed his eyes and breathed out gently, reminding himself to be gentle with his words as well.

“Did you hurt any of them?”

“No, you specifically barred me from instigating fights unless in self-defense. They were too confused to understand the insult and I was able to push by.” 

“I’m proud of you for that,” he said instead. Positive reinforcement. Every step of the way.

“I’m sickened, personally,” Damian spat, finally looking at Bruce. “I cannot see why I must be forced to endure this ridicule!”

“I will speak with your teacher about them cornering you.”

“I wasn’t cornered! I could have left anytime I wished, the only difference being whether they’d need medical assistance or not.”

“I didn’t mean physically cornered.” He decided to switch directions. “What did your teacher say after your erm… announcement, in class?”

“She merely smiled but did nothing more to deter the disruptions. Said they would discover the fact for themselves come Monday, once it’s due. It’s honestly beside the point though, Father—the essays she assigns are primitive. They lack depth, nuance, and are completely void of creativity.”

“We’ve discussed this. You’re not in school for the academic challenge. We toured this school together and you agreed it was adequate.”

“That was before I actually needed to attend any lectures.”

“Weren’t you making a few friends though? Who was it…” he did his best to recall the two children Damian had actually mentioned coming home one day.

“You’re referring to Thompson and Adams.”

Right. Their names were Isaac and Christopher.

“Yes, what about them?”

“They prefer to talk to each other more than anyone else. They indulge in a card came based on some cartoon they both enjoy. I cannot find it in myself to partake.”

Bruce tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. “Have you tried it? I’m sure they’d love to show you how to play.”

His son glared vehemently. “I will not stoop to such childish activities.”

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying games or hobbies, Damian.”

“I have hobbies. Just because they are unorthodox does not mean they aren’t valid.” Damian sighed loudly, leaning back against the seat in frustration. “Will you or will you not permit me to switch schools? Or—” he sat up again, “I’ve already done some research. If I were to take the entrance tests to show competency, I could attend university at the start of next semester. That’s a mere few months away.”

Bruce frowned at the thought. “It’s not what we agreed to.”

“I’d perform much better in a learning environment catered to my skillset. I could even attend the same campus as Drake. Would that not meet your criteria for engaging with my social skills?”

Bruce raised a brow dubiously. “You want to go to school with Tim? You know he’s not full time, right? And in advanced courses?”

“We would have plenty of down time in between classes. I’m not interested in mechanical engineering anyways.”

Bruce rubbed his eyes. He did try to pause and think whether it could be good for Damian, rather than dismissing it automatically as a gut reaction, but all he could imagine was his youngest avoiding all human contact in favor of focusing on coursework. He was hoping to find ways to get Damian to actually let his guard down, to untrain the damaging hypervigilance he was raised with. To have a social life outside the family.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he finally said. “How about we look into whether any high schools will accept you in January? It will be mid-year, but we may be able to petition for a transfer.”

Damian growled, his jaw tightening in disapproval.

“Or,” Bruce added carefully, “maybe you can learn that card game with the friends you have here. Maybe you’ll find you enjoy it.”

Damian sat back again, staring ahead. Bruce let him have the moment of contemplation.

“If,” Damian started, and Bruce knew it meant he was getting ready to negotiate, “I attempt to learn their ridiculous card game, and do not like it, can we discuss moving grades?”

“We can discuss it,” Bruce agreed easily. It was a reasonable middle-ground.

“Good. Now I want some time to myself. Head home, Father, I’ll call Pennyworth when I’m ready to return. I’d like some time to clear my head.”

Bruce went to object but Damian was already grabbing his stuff and exiting. And to be fair, he did recognize what Damian was doing—separating himself from a tense situation so he wouldn’t lash out. In other words, he was doing exactly what Bruce asked him to when he got upset. And he knew letting Damian roam around Gotham for a couple hours alone wasn’t as dangerous as it would be for a normal child. He decided to allow it. He even smiled encouragingly.

“Sure, chum. And maybe next time we can try that kebab place?”

“Perhaps.” He left, and Bruce watched him head through the rearview heading towards the staircase.

He sighed. Any progress was good progress, he reminded himself again. Maybe he’d get a nap in before patrol tonight.

◇◆◇

“Oh this place is spooky,” Sam said, grinning as she looked around at the tall buildings near town square. All the buildings in Old Gotham were tens of stories high and a peculiar mixture of recent technology paired with older architectural styles. There were legit gargoyles here hanging off brick buildings and the like.

“And this is just during the daytime,” Danny said with a laugh. Ancients, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Literally felt like all his problems had just vanished, just having one of his friends here. They had dropped off her stuff at his hotel room and now he was showing her around the more interesting areas he’d discovered. Old Gotham legit was the coolest, in his opinion. Yeah, dark and dreary and perhaps foreboding, but there was a legit cathedral off Main Street. Utterly fascinating. The city seemed to have a permanent overcast due to the smog, so even in the daylight everything felt dimmed. His first day in town had been a fluke in more ways than he realized.

“I can’t believe I’ve never visited here.”

“I know. Way more your aesthetic than mine,” he agreed.

Sam was decked out in her best gothic attire. Knee-high platform boots with neon green shoelaces to match her nails, paired with ripped tights and a plated black skirt. Her purple shirt was layered over with a ripped black long-sleeve one that added to the visual texture. It was a whole look. She had shaved either side of her head a couple years ago, but left the rest long. Her bangs were shaped into a wide ‘V’ with the middle pulled back into a braid. The rest of it was purposefully shaggy, juxtaposing with the refined, combed look to the front. Her eyeliner, ever present, was thick and drawn into exaggerated downward spikes.

Danny’s face was still healing, so he also had on a full face of cover-up makeup. Since they had stopped at the hotel room anyways, he donned some winged eyeliner so they could take pictures later. He was still wearing his tattered jeans since he’d been able to wash out all the blood, and just wore a plain red shirt with his spiked jacket.

She was carrying a light messenger bag had some patches on it. They’ve even traded a couple. He gave her his bee patch and she’d given him one styled after starry night that said ‘queer joy is resistance’. She also had brought him some new threads so he had some more colors to sew patches with. It was fun.

They took pictures in front of the cathedral, one just smiling and pointing, a silly one where Danny made a kissy face and Sam stuck out her tongue, and one where they were both flipping off the camera. They sent the first two to Tucker and Jazz, and the last one just to Tuck. They spent a few hours just fucking around, getting their laughs out. He showed her a few spots he’d found some impressive graffiti, which prompted more photoshoots, before they made their way to the old Clocktower near the police station. And not just the view of the Clocktower from the ground—he’d flown them up to the top, completely invisible of course, so they could hang out on the ledge. Moments like this tended to put things in perspective.  

“So,” Sam started.

“Ya?” She couldn’t see him, so verbal queues were necessary.

“You’re in Gotham now.”

“Ya.”

“You gonna reach out to the Bats?”

Danny blew his bangs out of his face, just for them to fall back in place. “That’s a loaded question,” he said to avoid answering.

“Not really. Haven’t you been wanting to come here?”

“Well, yeah…” Sam and the others didn’t really know about what happened when he was in the future, of course. But he’d told them a little bit over the years, mostly about how Bruce (he’d told them about Batman’s identity because he knew they could keep a secret and because he felt like he was going crazy not having anyone to talk to about it) had fully accepted him, how safe it had made him feel to open up, and then a little bit about how worried he was for Red Hood.

They were leaning against each other back-to-back to maintain contact for the invisibility. He had one leg propped up on the ledge, the other swinging freely back and forth.

“So you should be good right? I think it’d be good for you. I’m sure they’d appreciate knowing you were here.”

“Maybe…”

He kept kicking, biting his lip while he tried to put his thoughts together. “I’m worried. I know it’s probably dumb, but… I don’t know. I’ll have to face all that again, once they know, you know?”

He closed his eyes at the memory of Bruce dying again, a particularly bloody version he had nightmares about sometimes.

“Yeah… Yeah I guess that’s fair.” She paused. “What about Red Hood? You ran into him already, right?”

“Yup. He found me first, actually. But um, don’t worry, I’m not gonna put it off too long. I wanted to spend the weekend with you first, though.” Since she’d come in on a Friday, they had two entire days to hang out.

She laughed and it felt good to hear it.

“Alright, fair. But seriously, don’t put off the others too long either, ‘kay? Anxiety always makes things seem worse than they are.”

“Alright, Jazz,” he teased.

She turned and he almost fell backwards. “She knows her shit, Danny.” She grinned. “Okay, what else is on the agenda?”

“Uh…” he floundered. “I didn’t make an agenda.”

“Figured you wouldn’t,” she brushed off, looking out at the street. She couldn’t see him while invisible, but he could see her. “Lucky for you, I did.”

“Seriously? What could you possibly have in mind?”

“We’re finding you an apartment, for starters.”

“What?” he sat up more fully. “I don’t even have a job, yet.”

“No but we can start looking. Trust me, Danny, an apartment search is gonna be way more stressful than you think it is. Probably especially in Gotham. You gotta ask the right questions, know what to look for in the tours, all sorts of shit. But that way once you get a job and get more stable, the hard part will be out of the way!”

He was dubious, but it wasn’t like he knew better. He shrugged. “Honestly, I had been thinking of squatting somewhere, but that works for me.”

“Nah, you deserve better. Wanna grab lunch first though?”

He grinned again. “Hell yeah. There’s gotta be somethin’ good around here.”

Once back on the ground and reacquainted with the visible spectrum, they just picked a direction and started walking. There were a ton of restaurants in this area, they even crossed the street a few times to get a better look at signs. It was nearing three in the afternoon and traffic was beginning to pick up.

“Nope,” he sighed again, reading a sign posted outside a promising looking pizza place. “No vegan options.”

She huffed. “Tempted to just get a damn coffee and call it good.”

“No, we can find a place. I probably should’ve scouted some before you got here but I’ve been distracted. C’mon, let’s Google it.”

They both pulled out their phones to begin searching for places that had accessible ingredient lists. There had to be options in a city this big.

A polite cough interrupted their musings.

They looked up at the same time to see a boy standing nearby in what was probably a school uniform but wearing a long, sleek black coat. His hair was also sleeked back, making him look almost disturbingly mature.

“If you’re looking for vegan restaurants, I can recommend a few.”

“Oh,” Danny said, surprised. “Sure?”

Meanwhile he saw Sam’s eyes widened slightly, but she otherwise didn’t react.

He began to list a few places, including a ramen spot, a kebab place, and a matcha café that apparently also had good sandwiches.

“Cool, thanks!” Sam said, tucking her phone away. “Saves us the hassle.”

“Of course. I have not personally tried the kebab establishment, but heard good things. The other two however I can personally recommend.”

“Neat,” Danny said. All of them sounded good honestly. “What do you think, Sam?”

She hummed. “What’s closest?” she asked instead.

“Matcha. It’s called the Green Thumb Café. Good flavors,” he said easily. “I’m actually headed there myself.”

“Sweet! Let’s go!” Sam was grinning.

Danny shot her a weird look. The kid must’ve thought it was weird as well.

“That was not an invitation,” he dismissed cooly.

“Kinda sounded like one.”

“It wasn’t.”

She smirked a bit but let it drop. “Sorry, just messin’. Thanks for the recs.”

His tense posture loosened and he nodded, taking a step like he was going to leave, but then paused. Looked back to them with eyes narrowed. “Hm. Actually… Well. How familiar would you say the two of you are with pop culture?”

What?

What was happening with this conversation?

Danny laughed a little uncertainly. “As much as the average person I guess? Why?”

“Hm. I have a proposition for you, in that case. I will accompany you to this café, and converse for a matter of fifteen minutes. If you do and answer some questions of mine, I’ll buy your lunch.”

Danny gave him an odd look. Why was a random kid offering to buy them lunch? Did he even have that much money? Danny had been broke as fuck at a similar age.

“Deal,” Sam said immediately, and then Danny gave her an odd look. Why was she suddenly interested?

“Very well. Let us proceed.” The boy turned on his heel and began down the semi-crowded street.

They both followed but a couple paces behind.

“What brought this on?” he asked under his breath.

“Just humor me.” She had that look in her eye like she was up to something and it only made Danny that much more suspicious.

It was only a five minute walk, through which their guide kept a brisk, confident pace. He knew the area well.

None of them spoke, which was awkward, but once they made it to the storefront there was at least something else to focus on. A goth, a punk, and a school kid walked into a matcha café...

The café was small, built on the corner of a worn, brick building and not brightly advertised. While visible from the large windows, once they were inside Sam gasped in delight at all the plants strung up on walls, in the windows, on the counters.

“I love it already,” she declared, taking out her phone to snap some pics. She switched the view to selfie mode and Danny popped up bunny ears behind her head. She swatted him away so she could get a proper one.

Danny walked up behind the boy at the counter, who had already ordered and may have been a little impatient in waiting for them.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing back to Sam who was posing by the sign, “this is like, her exact vibe. Anyways, um, I wanted to say, you don’t really have to pay for us. We can handle it.” He didn’t know exactly what the kid wanted, but he didn’t want him to feel any peer pressure, especially with the age difference.

“Please, I offered. And I will be taking some of your time, so I insist. Go ahead and order.” He stepped back, and Danny hesitated a bit before asking for a mango matcha with a BLT.

He hollered Sam over and she finally came up, grinning at the barista who looked excited.

“Hi, welcome to Green Thumb!”

“Love yall’s plants.”

The barista laughed. “I could tell.” She lowered her voice, leaning forward conspiratorially. “If you want, I can get you a cutting or two.”

Sam nodded her appreciation. “That’s so sweet. I’ll have to decline though, I actually flew in. But thank you! I wish I had something like this where I lived.”

“Ah, fair. Well if you’re ever visiting again, you know where we are!”

“Absolutely.” She ended up ordering a strawberry matcha with a tofu panini, before dropping a generous cash tip.

During this Danny was watching the boy curiously—he wasn’t engaging in the conversation, but he was definitely watching carefully as the girls chatted. Almost like he was studying the interaction.

Finally they made their way over to a table and Danny quietly took the corner.

“You have good taste. My name’s Sam by the way. Sam Manson,” she said once they were seated.

Oh yeah, they had never introduced themselves.

“Yes, I heard your friend address you. And you are?”

“Danny.”

He blinked, only hesitating for a second.

“Danny…?”

“Just Danny,” he smiled.

A beat passed before he nodded, letting it pass.

“I suppose you can call me Damian.”

That was an odd way to put it, but then again, this entire exchange was odd.

“Nice to meet you. So, what did you want to discuss for approximately fifteen minutes?”

“Exactly fifteen minutes, if we can keep it that way. I’m getting a ride with my sister later.”

“Sure.”

“And—” he paused, since their order was called.

They all got up to get everything. Danny saw Damian had a plain hot matcha with only a croissant to go with it. Now he kinda felt bad they had gotten whole ass sandwiches.

Damian cleared his throat once they were settled again. “Pardon me,” he resumed smoothly, “I was going to inquire about two topics. One, since you two seem rather… outgoing, I was curious if either of you attended high schools near here and what they might be like. Or I was going to, but I heard you tell the cashier you flew here. Unless you’re returning home?”

“Nope, outta-towners. Sorry.” Sam answered with a snicker, mixing in the strawberry puree. “Outgoing?”

“You have… a fairly expressive style.”

Sam smirked. “Thanks.”

Danny decided to just roll with it, even though he had no idea how this was at all related to pop culture.

“Are you new to Gotham?” Danny asked. Maybe the kid was worried about school life here. But he was already wearing a uniform.

“No, not exactly. But I may be skipping a grade soon and I’d like to have an idea of what to expect.”

“Oh. Well, unfortunately, neither of us are from Gotham.”

Sam nodded sympathetically. “But we can tell you, high school sucks. Kinda just gotta grit your teeth and push through it, though. Make some friends, it helps.” She winked at Danny. Yeah, friends did help.

Damian didn’t seem pleased with the advice.

“It’s not all bad,” Danny offered, not wanting to discourage the kid. “Better than middle school, at least. High school sucks but middle school is straight up hell.”

“Fair,” Sam agreed.

Damian hummed, sipping his matcha.

None of them had actually touched their food yet. It was weird eating with strangers sometimes. 

“I see,” he said finally. “That aligns with my observations. Well, I suppose I thank you for the information regardless. The second thing I wanted to discuss was whether you may be familiar with a common childhood cartoon? It goes by the name of Yu-Gi-Wo?”

He had pronounced each part of the name slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was saying it correctly.

Danny barked out a laugh and Sam snorted.

Damian glared. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” Danny said quickly, tapping the table. “I just didn’t expect that. Yu-Gi-Wo’s great, not what I had in mind when you asked about pop culture.”

“Why exactly do you praise it?”

“Have you ever watched the show?”

“No,” he said, making a face before quickly smoothing out his features. “No, but I promised someone I would… give it a chance.”

“Hm.” Danny glanced to Sam.

“It’s fun, not really my style,” she offered, “and not super popular, but still fun. I’ve only played it a few times.” She nodded for Danny to take over.

“I was obsessed with it as a kid,” Danny admitted, blushing a bit. “Both the card game and the show. It’s really corny, actually. The premise is like, there’s a group of best friends who enter a game tournament to help free a kid’s Grandpa who was kidnapped.”

“Why was his Grandfather kidnapped?”

“There was a rich guy who was jealous of ‘em. Also another rich guy who was a total ass—bully. Um, bully.” He coughed. He should at least try to be PG-13, probably. “The bully tried to sabotage the other characters all the time. But yeah, so in the show they duel with cards that are animated to look like real monsters, and the group saves everyone with the power of friendship!”

Damian, who seemed to be listening with a vague sense of disdain, finally dropped the mask and scoffed.

“Completely unrealistic, then.”

“Well, duh, they’re playing for life or death based on collectible monster cards,” Danny laughed. “Like I said, it’s corny, but it is fun. The show got way more intense—like there were these magical artifacts that could actually hurt people, and sometimes if you lost the duel you’d be banished to an empty dark dimension where they’d go insane. So like, stakes were high, you know? People actually play with the cards as a real game, too, there’s quite a bit to it honestly.”

Damian sighed, seeming defeated.

“Continue, I suppose.” He started cutting the croissant.

Sam started on her food while Danny rattled off the basic premise of the card game. How each monster had a unique set of stats, how they could be paired with cards that changed the conditions of the battlefield and whatnot, there was a balance of how many monsters you could summon depending on accrued energy, and so forth.

“The point of the game is to attack the other person’s health points directly after defeating all their monsters. Whoever drops to zero first loses, obviously,” he finished. He hoped it had been enough to cover the main points? Damian honestly didn’t look that interested initially, but kind of looked more engaged now.

“So. In summary, it is also a strategy game?”

Danny made an appraising face. “Yeah I guess so. It’s also about knowing your deck and how it can be used, your strategy is usually specific to the cards you put together.”

“I see… That is, marginally, more interesting, then.”

“Yeah! You don’t really need to watch the show at all to play. And if you like strategy, there’s actually quite a bit out there for people who like that kind of stuff. I can’t say I have any specific recommendations though, I’ve been a bit out of the loop the past few years.”

Damian nodded, checking his phone. “Well. Thank you for summarizing all that, I suppose. It’s been 13 minutes and I can’t say I’m eager to fill the remaining two with trivial commentary, so I’ll leave you and your friend to enjoy your food.”

Danny blinked at the shift in tone and glanced Sam’s way to see if she was catching this, but she was just enjoying herself, apparently.

The little bell by the door rang before Damian could finish getting up though, and the look on Damian’s face made Danny look to see who had just entered.

A woman with long blonde hair was standing in the entranceway, and she was staring at them. She gasped loudly, looking excited.

“I was to have 37 more minutes before my private time was to be interrupted!” Damian declared, half-standing in offense.

“Oh. My. Goodness. Damian, are you making friends?” she squealed, walking over.

“I am not!”

“Kinda looks like it, Dami,” the woman countered. Finally she looked to both Danny and Sam. “Hi! My name’s Stephanie, I’m kind of Damian’s older sister!”

Ah, sibling embarrassment. Now it made sense.

“Hi, Danny,” he offered with a slight grin.

“Sam.”

“Can I join you?” Stephanie asked, and Damian scowled.

“No! I texted Cain so we could coordinate our pick-up schedules, not so I could have my time intruded on!” He stood all the way, physically shooing Stephanie away from the table.

“Aww, I’ll sit somewhere else if you want to keep hanging out!”

“I was not hanging with anyone, I set aside 15 minutes to gather information. The rest I’d prefer to spend in peace!”

“Well, go enjoy your peace then, I wanna meet your friends,” Stephanie said, sliding into the spot Damian had just vacated.

“Those were not the terms!” Damian objected, pointing to the door.

“Hey, we don’t mind,” Sam finally said, taking pity on the kid. “Although just so you know, we met like, 20 minutes ago, so he’s not lying.”

“Of course I’m not lying, my honor is impeccable.”

“I didn’t say you were, but now I’m curious!” Stephanie continued to ignore him, resting her arms on the table and smiling brightly.

Danny snorted. Sam was leaning back, finished with her food, and possibly trying to stay out from between them.

Damian stomped off, mumbling in a language Danny didn’t recognize.

“Hey uh, he’s not actually upset, is he?” he finally asked, feeling bad.

“Eh, maybe a little,” Stephanie said, “he’ll be fine. He’s notoriously antisocial.”

“Yeah, we picked that up,” Sam said. “When he cools off, mind telling him thanks for our lunch?”

“He bought you lunch?”

“His idea,” Danny said quickly. Two adults getting lunch from a random kid on the street still felt weird. “Um, wanted to ask us about high school stuff, is all.”

“It’s fine, he has his dad’s credit card,” Stephanie shrugged.

“I get that,” Sam laughed, sipping her matcha.

“Somehow that’s worse,” Danny laughed. He didn’t want anyone’s dad mad at them, or get upset with his son for overspending. “If you need us to pay you back, we’re happy to.”

“Don’t sweat it, really. Consider it payment for us crashing yall’s lunch. Oh my god,” she stopped suddenly, looking between them, “you weren’t on a date, were you? Damian really isn’t good with social cues sometimes—”

“Nah you’re good,” Sam said with a smirk, “just good friends.”

“Whew,” she sighed, shoulders drooping. “That would’ve made me a double ass. Anyways, so, let me get this straight, Damian just approached you guys to ask advice about school?”

“Eh,” Danny said, wobbling a hand, “he stopped because he saw us struggling to find a good vegan place. Then that conversation happened.” Sam was already finished with her food, but Danny hadn’t started his so he finally took a big bite, enjoying it even though it was cold now.

“What’s a kind of big sister?” Sam asked, crossing her arms casually.

“Family friend. I’m around enough that I get to claim big sister points.”

Danny snorted.

“There’s no way you guys are high schoolers, yeah?”

“Nope.”

“Geez, figured not. He doesn’t like being around kids his age. College then?”

“Nope,” he laughed again.

Sam raised her hand. “I am. What about you?”

“Notta, though I’ve thought about it. What’s your major?”

“Political science,” she said, not elaborating. Apparently keeping it simple.

Stephanie scrunched her face. “Oh god, politics?”

“Girl, you’re telling me.”

Danny laughed, still munching on his sandwich.

“What drew you to that?”

“Eh, sometimes shit doesn’t fix itself fast enough. And I’m not the kind of person to sit around being sad about it you know?”

She nodded. “Damn, I do actually. That’s real admirable.”

Sam grinned a bit viciously. “Plus it pisses off the 1% when a girl knows how to pass a law that actually holds corporations accountable for oil spills, so y’know.”

“Hell yeah,” she replied, raising a fist out. Sam bumped it.

“So are you a Gotham native?” Danny asked. He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to too many living people in the city.

“Born ‘n raised,” she confirmed.

“That’s cool. Any hidden treasures you know of? We toured all the big spots.”

She hummed, looking up. “Have you been down to the Tricorner?”

Danny frowned. “I’m not sure, where’s that?”

“South, big island. You’ll have to cross the Crown Point Bridge to get there. But before the crossing there’s a small trail with an overlook out on the water. Outside the parks it’s one of the more scenic areas you’ll find. Good view of the sunrise, on a clear day.”

He nodded appreciatively. “Cool thanks, we’ll check that out for sure.”

“No problem. So you guys are just visiting?”

“Kinda. She’s visiting, I just moved here.”

“Oh sweet! I’m assuming you came prepared, so I won’t bother telling ya to watch out for yourself.”

He nodded some more, chuckling. “Yeah I think I’ve got it handled, but I appreciate it.”

“Sure, sure. So what do you do?”

Danny pursed his lips, glancing to Sam. “Not much, I guess. I travel a lot, so mostly odd jobs. I’m not that interesting.”

“Danny,” she admonished.

He sent her a strong side eye. “Don’t ‘Danny’ me.”

“Don’t let him lie to you. He’s smart as hell and can do all sort’s of shit.”

“Oo, jack of all trades?”

“But master of none,” he added, blushing. He threw a playful glare over to Sam who was grinning. “Stop throwing me under the bus.”

She stuck out her tongue at him.

Stephanie leaned forward. “What’s your best, you think? Good thing about a city this big, there’s literally something for everyone.”

“Um…” he grimaced, looking down a bit. “I dunno. I used to work in a biochemistry lab, but I haven’t done that in years. Honestly sometimes I just walk dogs and mow people’s lawns.” He frowned again. “There aren’t even any lawns in Gotham.”

She snorted a bit, nodding in sympathy. “Well we have a lot of hospitals and big companies here. The hard sciences are always hiring.” She paused, glancing at Sam. “Sorry, no offense.”

“Well, you’re not lying.”

“I’m not sure that’s a great selling point,” he laughed, “and it’s not like I have a degree. I don’t think I’d wanna work in a hospital anyways. I’ll find something though. Maybe a coffee shop or somethin’, then I’ll get caffeine discounts.”

“Valid. Very valid.”

“You could ask the barista if they have openings here,” Sam offered, looking around.

“Maybe. I’ll worry about it later.” He waved his hand, shooing the topic away.

“Mm. Alright. Well! It was nice to meet you guys! Thanks for hanging out with Damian. And, me,” she added, blushing a bit.

“No problem. I mean he literally kinda paid us, but you know.”

“Yeah, tell the little dude thanks for us, I really didn’t get the chance,” Sam added.

“Will do. Have fun in Gotham! And good luck finding something, Danny.”

He nodded and she got up, waving once before exiting.

Danny leaned to get a better look out the window as she left. She paused to look both ways before walking away and out of sight. Finally he leaned back with a sigh.

“Well that was random.”

“Yeah. She was nice though. Not gonna lie I was a little worried everyone in Gotham was a cynic.”

“You know, I was worried about the same thing,” he admitted. “But even some of the ghosts are fun.”

“What’d you think of Damian?” she asked with a grin, now looking more mischievous.

“You know what, he wasn’t bad, but what the hell was that about anyways?” Now that people were gone, he could pester her about why she’d been so insistent on going with him. He’d still only gotten halfway through his BLT, so he took several big bites now that social niceties were out of the way.

She cackled a bit. “Oh, Ancients. I didn’t think you’d recognize him.” She sat up a little bit, scooting back her empty cup. She looked entirely too amused with herself. “That, my friend, was Damian Wayne.”

Danny choked, coughing.

Sam cackled, tipping her chair backward in glee.

“What?” he said, wiping his mouth. “Are you serious? Why did you let me ramble that long about Yu-Gi-Wo to Damian—”

She shushed him and Danny realized how loud he’d gotten.

“to Damian Wayne,” he amended, softer.

“Cause it was funny.”

Danny blushed, covering his face. “Was so not,” he whined.

“Now you’ve made friends!”

“We are not friends, did you hear him? He timed our conversation!”

“Okay but dude, look, I’ve met him before, at galas. He didn’t remember me, obviously.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “But I bet he’ll remember you. He never talks to anyone that long.”

“Ancients, Sam,” he sighed, rubbing his face carefully. “You’re awful.”

“You’re welcome.”

He couldn’t help but be a bit embarrassed. He just met the son of the person he’d wanted as a father figure for years, not that he’d ever told anyone that. Not even Sam and Tuck. Yikes.

“C’mon, his kinda sister liked you. You should reach out to,” she lowered her voice, “you know who, soon.”

Danny just went back to his matcha, stirring the strawberries more. “And be known as the Yu-Gi-Wo guy?”

“You’ve been known as worse.”

“I will dig up the ye olde forgotten lore of Inviso-Bill and shove it up your ass.”

She laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair, and Danny had to reach a foot as an anchor so it didn’t tip over.

◇◆◇

They spent the rest of the day popping into apartment complexes and asking questions. Sam took notes on her phone, and Danny felt a little bad he was just tagging along. If it were up to him he’d just pick a place and call it good, but she had a fairly extensive pros and cons list going on. At sunset they flew over (yes, flew, because both of them were exhausted and their feet hurt, and what’s the point of having powers if you don’t use them for fun sometimes) to explore the area around the bridge like Stephanie from the matcha café had recommended. It had indeed been a pretty solid view.

While a far cry from middle-of-nowhere surrounded nature levels of quiet, compared to being in the midst of the giant city it had been fairly peaceful. Quiet in the way that traffic was only heard at a distance and the smog wasn’t so thick, kind of like it had been at Robinson Park. They were on the wrong side of the water to watch the sunset but the sky had grown crimson and they laid in the grass listening to the sounds of the bay.

Tomorrow they decided to go visit the park, although they also agreed not to go visit Ivy. He was still worried about being on some kind of watch list, and the last thing he wanted was for someone like Sam with actual aspirations to get in trouble for something. It was on the table for a later visit though, possibly, but Danny wanted time to plan it out. And to check if Dr. Isley was even okay with that. He had decided to treat her greenhouse kind of like a lair after all—defer to her wishes and don’t assume bringing others is allowed. Show utmost respect to the hosting party, as that is their domain.

Now they were back at the small hotel room Jazz had gotten him in the Bowery. Marginally less sketchy than the Narrows. While she had paid for it, Danny had picked it out. He had wanted to keep things reasonable so she wasn’t completely breaking bank on it, especially because it wasn’t strictly necessary.

“That’s crazy guys,” Tuck said from the speaker phone laying on the bed.

Danny had crashed diagonally across the whole thing, just staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Sam was in the mini bathroom a few feet away, scrubbing all the makeup off her face.

“And you don’t think there’s any chance he recognized you?” he continued. “That seems pretty fringe.”

“I mean, he wouldn’t know me,” Danny said, quietly reveling in the softness of the bed. It had been nice sleeping indoors again for a change. “And he didn’t seem to recognize Sam. She gave him her full name and everything.”

“The Mansons aren’t nearly as rich as the Waynes,” Sam said, rinsing. “Not surprised at all he didn’t know my name.”

“Aren’t your parents like filthy rich?” Danny asked, doubtful.

“By upper-middle class standards, yeah. By billionaire standards, no.” She paused, looking in the mirror, then got more soap and started again.

Danny sighed audibly. “Damn rich people.”

“Phanny, I don’t think you have room to talk. You know at least three rich people,” Tuck said with a laugh.

“Fuck you, I’m not counting Vlad.”

“Eh, fair.”

They switched to talking about the city more, telling Tucker about the spots they’d visited. They were all planning an actual meet-up once their semester was over. Sam had to leave by early afternoon on Sunday so she wasn’t getting in too late before classes. And she said something about finishing a project.

“Like guys, you know how we thought Amity was crazy with the ghost stuff? It’s insane here, honestly. There’s fights that break out all the time, and the haunts are all over the place.”

“Damn, worse than Amity?”

“Kinda. I mean there’s a lot of ambient ecto but not enough for ghosts to be visible.”

“It must’ve been that way back home purely cause of the portal. Think about how unnaturally high all the levels were,” Tuck said. “I bet almost everyone who lived there during those two years is liminal now.”

That was a good point. Sam, Tuck, and Jazz were definitely liminal, although they hadn’t found any actual side effects of it. They’d probably show up as contaminated on GIW sensors but it hasn’t been an issue yet. Ghosts were sometimes drawn to them, but they couldn’t see ghosts like Danny could.

“It kind of makes sense, honestly,” Sam agreed. “It’s not like anyone could see ghosts before the portal opened.”

“Yeah and all the crazy stuff died down as soon as you left. Haven’t heard a peep out of Amity in years. I still check every few months though.”

Danny nodded, then shook his head, not wanting to think anymore about Amity or the artificial portal. Anytime he almost reminded himself of Jack and Maddie, he mentally shut down a little. There was a brief moment in thought where he’d recall a memory, then firmly stamp it out and do his best to forget. He refocused on Sam instead. And Tuck’s voice. His friends. He was lying down on a hotel bed. It was soft. There was a warm, yellow-y lamp on. Everything was okay.

“But anyways. So the ecto is one thing, but the actual haunts are way worse. And honestly the people are the same. I swear this is one of the most divisive cities I've ever been in. The different communities are really loyal to their own area. Old Gotham is a mix and the park seems like open territory, but everywhere else is like weirdly independent.”

“Huh.”

“I know. I stand out a lot too.”

“You’ll adjust,” Sam said, “You haven’t been able to set roots in a while. It makes sense to need some time to get used to it.” She sputtered. “Ew, I got soap in my mouth.”

“Yeah, man, you’ll be alright. You guys looked at apartments today, right?” Tuck asked.

“Yeah,” Danny said, “It was exhausting actually. But it should be easy enough once I get a job. I literally don’t own anything.”

“The rent was lower than I was expecting, not gonna lie. Everything else was really expensive though.”

“Bleh. Do you think I could get away with ecto-furniture? That’s gotta be a thing.”

“I don’t think it’d hold up well,” Sam said with a snort. “Danny you can literally cheat and phase everything through walls, just get a normal bed, you’ll be fine.”

Fair point.

“Oh,” Tuck said casually, “You won’t believe who I heard from today.”

“Who?” he intoned, feeling sleepy. Ancients he’d been running so high on endorphins all day, he was crashing so bad.

“Ellie.”

Danny startled, before sitting all the way up, looking down at the phone.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I know, right?”

“How’d she reach out?” Elle had always opted out of their little private phone system. Said she didn’t like the idea of being tied down, even through phone contact. After Danny had helped her escape Vlad’s control entirely, she wanted to go explore on her own. Like, entirely on her own. One time they went almost two years without hearing from her.

“Well, I’ve given her my address before, on campus. So she could come get a phone if she ever changed her mind.”

“And?”

“She still doesn’t want one, but she just showed up. Scared the crap out of me, actually.”

Danny and Sam both laughed at that. She must’ve finished washing her face because she came over and collapsed on the bed like Danny had when they first got back.

“Yeah, apparently word of you going to Gotham has spread.”

Danny blinked, sharing a look with Sam.

“Are you fucking serious? I haven’t even been here a week.”

“That’s what she said. She said it’s a hot topic right now. Lady Gotham is apparently very pleased with herself.”

Danny rubbed his eyes, but then flinched a bit remembering how much they still hurt. He still needed to wash his own face, actually. “I bet the fuckin’ elder ghosts have bingo nights,” he muttered.

“What?” Tuck said, a second after Sam did.

“Nevermind—”

“No, no, I think that warrants an explanation,” Sam said with a huff of laughter. “The fuck you mean?”

Danny sighed. “Bingo nights. Or y’know, elder ghost equivalent. I had kind of been wondering if this favor of hers was like, something she scores coolness points for. Or bragging rights.”

“Why would it?”

“Uh, because she gets to rightfully claim that she’s protecting the Ghost King? I could see that being leveraged in social situations. All the elders are in their own fuckin’ class, Dora’s told me some about how they handle matters. There’s massive competition, I don’t think they really care about what other ghosts are doing unless they’re real powerful.”

“Damn,” Tucker said.

“I know. Or well, it’s a hunch I have. Either way I think it makes her look good somehow. Not that I’m complaining. I just can’t believe you’re hearing about this before I am.”

“I’m just the messenger, bro.”

“I know bro. Why didn’t she come see me, anyways?”

“Wanted to confirm where you were at. She can’t hang out in America any easier than you can, you know.”

Yeah, he did know. Their signatures were too similar.

“So my guess is she’ll be stopping by soon. Heads up. She didn’t say if she was coming right away though, so I don’t know.”

“I guess that’s fair. At least she’ll be safe here. Actually that reminds me, I need to go talk to Lady Gotham soon, probably this weekend.”

“How come?” Sam asked, turning to lay on her side, head propped on an elbow.

“I wanna check if I can have people over. Like Ellie. Cujo.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s fine, but it’s still her haunt.”

“Fair. Anyways, I have a code I need to finish tonight, so.”

“Yeah we can let you go,” Danny said easily, glancing to Sam who nodded through a yawn. “We’re pretty beat ourselves, I think.”

“I’m fuckin’ happy for you though, dude. Like seriously. I’m glad no one’s shown up.”

Danny sighed loudly. “Ancients. Me too. Me fucking too.”

◇◆◇

A drug raid was exactly the cathartic kind of release Jason had been needing.

He was still hesitant sometimes to team up with the other Bats in Gotham, mostly because it gave Bruce the impression that he was falling back in line, or some other nonsense. But he had accepted when Dick called him up for a tag-team. The cartels between Gotham and Bludhaven coordinated so much that it was reasonable for Red Hood to make an appearance there, and that would be his official answer if B decides to pester him on it.

Dick was leading the mission, since it was his city. But they’d finished blocking all the entrances and taking out the head dealers, so all that was left was the goons. Remaining was 2 v. 50 or some crazy shit odds (shit for them), meaning it was now a pleasant free-for-all.

Punch, punch, woops he broke someone’s nose, kick, punch, shoot, shoot. Methodical and damn-near therapeutic. Or as therapeutic as Jason was ever going to get.

Most of the others were on comms too, Bruce himself hidden away on a separate channel since he was preoccupied with interrogating guards. Batman was busy tonight checking in on Arkham security, which he did about every one or two weeks. Oracle was coordinating, of course. Actually the only one missing seemed to be Signal, who’d gone to bed earlier. Jason personally thought he was aight, they didn’t know each other that well though.

“He said what?!” Dick shouted from the opposite side of the warehouse, loud enough for it to get scraped up over speaker, causing Jason to wince. He’d been largely zoning out the conversation.

“Hey Dickhead! Some of us are wearing helmets,” he growled, shooting another person in the leg. Only the calf, their femur and major artery there would be fine, but they wouldn’t be walking anytime soon.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, and this time Jason only heard it through the speaker instead of echoing halfway across the building.

“I know, isn’t it cute?” Babs responded, chuckling.

“What exactly did he say, again?” Steph asked. She was elsewhere, out with Robin and Black Bat on patrol.

“He said,” the Replacement said, doing case review from the Batcave where he’d apparently found the updated notes, and thus able to speak openly as well, “quote, ‘What about Bruce Wayne? Well-known philanthropist. Donates billions of dollars every year to all sorts of good shit. Does good work. Is a good person.’ End quote. And then proceeded to say it was an example of how people from any category could be good, with the exception of Nazis.”

“Oh my god,” Nightwing laughed, wheezing, before flipping off a man’s shoulders and knocking two more out with his escrima. “B’s making waves! He’s gotta fanclub.”

“One person cannot possibly be considered sufficient to label it as a club,” Damian countered.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I agree with the brat on that one.”

“Very mature, Hood.”

“Bugger off.” He was grinning but no one could see it. It was too easy to mess with the kid.

“I dunno,” Steph said, “Ivy agreed with him, yeah? Is two enough for a club?”

“One of us could join and it’d probably be good,” Tim said casually, sounding distracted. Reading, probably. “Not it.”

“I think it has to be a plant person to count,” Babs argued.

“Damn, that’s a good point,” Dick said.

“O, did you manage to find anything on him?” Jason asked, more out of boredom than curiosity.

“No,” she bit out, sounding frustrated. “Not enough to work with.”

 “Green Danny seems fun,” Cass added quietly.

“Oh, Red Robin, you left out the best part,” Babs chided. “You forgot to mention his whole spiel about justice.”

“Oh my god,” Dick said again, “you’re kidding, right?”

“Sure ain’t, boy wonder. Legitimately had this whole thing about fighting to protect people and everything.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but the others found it hilarious. If the kid shared Bruce’s opinions on what justice was, maybe it’s good he disappeared.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Damian said suddenly, “I had a chance encounter with a person named Danny today.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?” Babs asked, sounding affronted.

“It was a minor interaction. Unlikely to be the same person.”

“Then why mention it?” Steph asked, a smile in her voice. “Is it because you made fri—”

“I did no such thing and I will not tolerate you spreading lies about it.”

“Wait what happened?” Dick asked.

“And what did said person do to earn the honor of being addressed by a nickname?” Tim asked, which was a good point.

They had made a dent in the goons—the stragglers were starting to make a run for the exits, so Jason followed to cut them off.

“Robin here was hanging out with a couple folks downtown today,” Stephanie elaborated. “I crashed the party.”

“He refused to give me his full name,” Damian said, sounding irritated. “It was the casual reference which alerted me to the similarity, but I still think it’s unlikely to be related.”

“I dunno about that,” Babs argued, and Jason heard some typing. “Did you learn anything useful about him?”

“He has appalling tastes in entertainment.”

“Ouch,” Dick said, and Jason snorted.

“I got some info. We can go over it later, O, if you want.”

“Let’s do that. Robin, what makes you think they’re unrelated?”

There was a pause in between answers, meanwhile Jason had caught up to the runners and knocked them both out. He heard a shout as someone came swinging at him from behind and he turned fluidly and shot once—it hit the arm and went clear through. The man screamed as he landed in a pile by Jason’s feet.

“Idiot,” he huffed quietly.

“He didn’t stand out in any way. Average build, average vocabulary. The area was also surrounded by potted plants which he was indifferent to.”

“That’s not a super strong case, buddy,” Dick said gently.

“Green Danny wasn’t green like Ivy,” Cass said.

“Oh they told me to say thanks to you for their lunch, by the way,” Steph said, which prompted several more people to begin yelling in his ears.

That was all the goons from his half of the building, but there were tall piles of crates and pallets though, so he jumped up to them, climbing until he could see an overview. He saw one man, weapon discarded, hiding behind them and cowering.

Hood landed audibly behind him, which prompted a scream.

“Robin, were you socializing willingly?” Dick asked.

“Hi there,” Jason said cheerfully, ignoring the comms once more.

The man paled, throwing his hands up. “Please don’t shoot! I’ll comply!”

Jason hummed and it came out deeper through the modulator. It was reassuring to know how far his reputation spread. “Get on the ground and I’ll consider it.”

He dropped immediately, and Hood stooped to grab his arms roughly, securing them behind his back with a zip tie.

“Nightwing,” he said, prompting the chatter to pause a bit because business always took precedence, “no others on my end. You?”

“Nope!”

“Good, I think that’s everyone, then,” he said, putting his weapon away to grab the man. He startled again when he was yanked up. “I think I gotta talker if you need to ask some questions.”

“I wouldn’t say no to some easy answers,” he agreed.

Jason walked the man around the impressive maze of crates and back out into the open. Some of the background conversation resumed in their comms, which he continued to ignore.

Dick was gathering up people, sorting them by whether they were still conscious or not and whether they were actively bleeding, to make it simpler when the cops arrived. A few tourniquets were needed due to the handful of bullet wounds.

Jason walked the one he’d grabbed over, standing near a pile of tied up goons, who either looked pissed or like they were about to piss themselves.

Dick saw him and he traded off the suspect.

“Alright, you good here?”

Dick made a fake pouting face. “You leaving already?”

“What, you expect me to wait around here all night and do your busy work?”

“Hey!” A random goon called, and Hood looked to the man cooly while one of his goonmates kicked him.

Jason turned back, shaking his head. “Gotta go check on the Narrows,” he finished.

“Didn’t you do that before you left?”

“Yep.”

His shoulders slumped. “Yeah alright. Go do what you gotta do.”

“I was going to, but thanks.” And he did appreciate it, actually. Dick was one of the few who didn’t pick on him for his slightly obsessive tendencies.

Nightwing bumped his shoulder with a fist, signaling their goodbye, and went back to treating injuries.

Hood grappled up to a window out of the warehouse, since the doors were still jammed. He’d let Nightwing unlock everything once the police showed up. He made his way quickly over to where his bike was stashed and slid on. The engine rolled slightly as he started it, pulling out into the street and ramping up speed. Going out as Red Hood always came with the plus of being able to ignore any and all road rules, since the police couldn’t catch him anyways.

“Hey Hood, you coming by the cave?” Steph asked in his ear.

“Why would I?”

“Post-patrol check in.”

“I don’t got nothin’ to report.”

“No but Agent A is making cookies.”

A tempting offer.

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“What about Sunday?” Babs asked.

Ugh. The weekly family meeting. The one that Jason tended to skip.

“I’ll think about it.”

He disconnected from the comm chat. Oracle would contact him if something major popped up, and even then, he didn’t always take calls.

Right now his goals were to get back, check on the Alley, and crash on the couch he used as a bed. They’d spent the better part of three hours tonight tracing the drugs between sell points. It should cut down the incoming shipments for a while, at least until a different group picked it up. There was always demand for illegal sells in Gotham.

The wind ripping by him was cold and biting as he continued to ramp up speed, hitting well past a hundred mph. It made him feel good. It made him feel alive.

Chapter Text

"Hood," one of his lieutenants said from the doorway.

Jason looked up from where he was reading through reports.

"We got a breach."

Figures. After the drug bust last night, he was hoping he’d have a few days of peace. Few hours, more like. He had gotten some sleep at least, which was at times a rarity. When business wasn’t booming, it was the nightmares that got to ‘em.

He nodded for her to continue.

"We got guys who are saying some small new gang is encroaching. Found them harassing some of the apartments near here." She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. She was muscular, wearing gray cargo pants and a dark long-sleeve. Her hair was shoulder-length but loose so it was harder to grab in a fight.

"Name?"

"Arms 'N Glory."

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. "How big?"

"They got about 20 standard folk, some others that come and go.”

"Who's in charge?"

"Guy called Gunner, although we think he's being paid off. Charlie went incognito and took a job with them. Gunner doesn't know shit about what he's doing."

"Black Mask?"

"We're not sure yet."

"Alrighty. Lemme go say hi to this Gunner. Real name?"

"Lawrence Hines, 29. Doesn’t seem to be Narrows built."

Extra stupid, coming into his turf, then.

“Thanks Trish.”

"You got it." She paused. “Oh, one of your Alley kids came to report some dude on the street tried to give somethin’ to her.”

Jason growled, grabbing his helmet. “And?”

“Been dealt with.” Meaning dead or hospitalized.

“Did you get her blood tested?”

“Yup, came back clean. Gave her a supplies bag.”

That was his usual call. Kids come in to get help, they leave with help. Plus some assurance of their safety or medical care, whichever was needed.

“Good.” He stuffed all the papers he still needed to go through into a locked box and grabbed up the rest to hand off. “Burn these.” There was no point in keeping paper trails once he received the info. And because of people like Oracle, he knew better than to keep everything digital. He paused to get the location and then exited towards the garage.

He could go for a ride, but for this short a distance he decided to just stick with the rooftops. His bike was a darling but way too loud for this kind of work. It was in the middle of the night, pushing 2am (which was practically midday for him), and Trish’s intel was spot on. It was absurdly easy to spot the wannabe gang. Whether that was a bait or true incompetence, he couldn’t say.

He found three of them at the corner of a shit apartment well into his territory, right across from an old mafia front he’d cleared out a few years prior (Suck it, Falcone). The building was still empty, although sometimes he’d find bodies inside from squatters who OD’d.

He remained on the rooftop a few minutes to observe them. Nothing in their attire pointed to a particular rogue. Rogues usually marked their henchmen, which Jason had always thought was a shit tactic. Gave too much away, not that they never seemed to learn. These guys just seemed like average trash. So they were most likely being paid for the gig, and Jason very much wanted to know why.

Welp, he’d seen enough.

He dropped down behind them, letting his boots hit the ground with a definite crunch rather than keeping it silent.

“Hi fellas.”

They all startled, of course.

“Fuckin’ hell—” Gunner started turning and raising a bat.

He was flat on his back in less than a second. The other two tried to make swings for him at the same time but he kicked off the wall and over their heads, knocking each of them at the temple mid-air.

Three for three, down. God he needed a challenge. At one point during his “recovery” (Jason didn’t see himself as a recovered person per se, but a good chunk of the family liked to think he was better), he had joined an underground fighting ring, just to let off some tension. After going from controlling nearly all of Gotham, and thus having to defend nearly all of Gotham, to just a tiny wedge of the Narrows, he’d gone through weird withdrawal of sorts where he had been craving violence.

It had pissed Bruce off like mad.

Back to the pathetic fight at hand, a big guy to his left who had a chain out looked like he was stirring a little, so Hood kicked him again and he stayed still.  

Now, he drew a gun, aiming it cooly at Gunner. If this played easily, he wouldn’t even need to shoot anyone.

“Lawrence Hines.”

The man paled, looking shocked. Yeah, these guys were definitely amateurs. Whoever had set them up did them dirty.

“You’ve breached the territory of Red Hood. Got anything to say about that?”

“Yeah,” he said, though he was shaking. “I gotta message alright. The Court of Owls has come knocking, Hood, y-your days are numbered.”

Jason scoffed. This was a bad joke. He decided to play up the antics though.

“Damn, really? I’m not even a big player anymore. Rude.” He lowered his gun, examining it thoughtfully. “Guess I don’t need these guns no more.”

Lawrence had a beat to look and feel confused before Hood raised the gun swiftly, firing once just left to his head. The man screeched, and this time he did piss himself a little.

“Oh wait, that doesn’t make any sense,” he continued casually, before storming up to the man. He grabbed him roughly by the front of his shirt, pulling him in real close so they were helmet to face, before reaching for a grappling hook. “Let’s go chat.”

Then he aimed high and went soaring, dragging the man upwards at a very unnerving speed, to anyone not used to it. The dark spot in his pants was expanding. Gross.

Jason didn’t stop at the single rooftop they were at, he kept going, directing them towards some higher ground. The man was screaming the whole way, which was unpleasant, but Hood escalated it and feigned dropping him once—for a second he was worried he went too far and made the man pass out (couldn’t get answers out of unconscious people), but then the screaming continued.

But then they arrived at their destination, as a posh GPS would intone, which was a rusting water tower in the Highs. While disoriented, he was still conscious. Conscious and shaken. Perfect for questioning.

Hood merely let go and the man fell to all fours, instinctively crawling back before realizing there wasn’t much room to move around and stilled. Nowhere to run.

“Alright! Alright—Jesus—I’m—I’m done, okay! I’m done! Gah!”

“Oh hell no you’re not, we’re just getting started.” Jason stooped, holding his gun loosely in one hand, still visible. “Tell me honest now, man, who sent you?”

“The Court of Owls! I-I told you that!”

Jason raised his head, pretending to sniff. “Mm, know what that smells like?”

Lawrence was staring, uncomprehending.

“Bullshit,” Jason supplied helpfully. “Smells like bullshit. Now tell me who hired you!” He stalked forward, dropping the polite pretenses.

The man seemed dutifully frightened. Jason idly wondered who was scarier than the Red Hood. Unless there was something else at stake. But it certainly wasn’t the Court of Owls. The Court was sophisticated, they only cared about Gotham’s elite. They had their own agents too, they would never hire out amateur mercenaries like this.

He kept quiet, which was almost impressive. Just a shade too cowardly to count, though.

“Let me put it to you this way,” he continued, switching angles. “Whoever hired you isn’t paying you enough for you to die.”

“You’ll just kill me anyways,” he countered, an edge to his voice as some of the fight was coming back.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how much you piss me off, honestly. And right now Lawrence, you’re wasting my time. I’d much rather be interrogating whoever sent you after me, yeah?”

“I can’t,” he bit out, shaking like a leaf.

Huh. Most bad guys say they won’t. Not that they can’t.

“Why not? What’s worth saving your boss’s sorry ass for?”

Now Lawrence looked like he was gonna cry.

Well that was just sad.

“I don’t have all night!” he barked, the gun twitching impatiently. Half of this was more for show than a real threat, although this poor bastard couldn’t tell.

“It’s my mom, alright!” he finally cried out. “My mom’s finally getting treatment and all I had to do was—”

“Piss off the Red Hood?”

“M-more or less,” he agreed, maybe just now realizing how stupid sounding that was. “So yeah, kill me, whatever, she’ll live and honestly I’m sick of shit anyways. So fuck it. Can’t you just pretend I convinced you?”

“Are you seriously appealing to my sense of justice, right now?” he asked, incredulous.

“You’re a Bat though!”

“My justice doesn’t extend to scumbags who fuck with my city,” he practically snarled. And he was a Bat with a goddamn reputation at stake for crying out loud.

Jason scoffed again, backing off. He had enough of the picture now that he didn’t need to continue scaring the pants off the guy. He turned to pace around the domed top of the water tower, thinking.

“So let me get this straight. Someone wanted you to come into my territory and pose it as a threat from the Court of Owls. In return, they’re paying for your mom’s treatment?”

“Yeah. When the job’s done.”

Jason sighed again, tilting his head back. “You’re an idiot, you know that right? The job was never gonna get done. Your mom ain’t getting shit.”

Lawrence blinked several times, coming to terms with the information.

Jason was losing interest in this, fast. Little Lawrence here was obviously just a pawn. He needed to know who thought they were a big enough player to pit the Court of Owls and the Bats against each other. That’s the type of gamble you don’t do sloppily. And this was the sloppiest piece of shit he’s seen in a hot minute. Which actually made him consider whether this in itself was a setup.

“Tell me who it is, and I’ll deal with them.”

Lawrence went quiet again.

“Yeah, that wasn’t a question.”

“He could kill my mom dude!”

“Not if I kill him first. Or I swear to God, I’ll throw you off this roof.” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d catch him too. I’m getting fucking soft.

Lawrence, quaking, looked over the edge briefly before closing his eyes in a panic. “It was Penguin, alright! Penguin! Jesus, I’m done, just get me out of here!”

Huh. Penguin hadn’t crossed paths with Hood in a while. They weren’t even on the same side of town. Which meant it was time to go ask more questions. First to deal with this fucking mess, though.

“What your gig?”

“Huh?”

Jason was tempted to leave him on this fucking water tower with how quickly he was losing patience.

“Your gig. What operations did you take on for this little ruse?”

“Um… Mostly weapons. Y’know, Arms ‘N Glory. Some drugs I guess, the cheap kind, they sell easy.”

“Sell to any kids?”

“Kids?”

“You’re pissing me off with all these questions, Lawrence,” he said more roughly, once again drawing his gun. Rather than aiming it to the left, he targeted directly to his forehead, pre-execution style. “Did you or did you not sell to any kids in my territory?”

“No! Well, not any that I know of, not like, in particular you know? Maybe some older teens? It’s not like we’re checkin’ ID’s or nothin’ man, Jesus—”

“Oh goodie, it’s nice to hear you have a sliver of common sense. Weapons are still off the table though, I’m afraid. Type? Meta-enhanced? Anything special?”

“Just regular weapons man! Handguns and shit!”

He’ll get the details later. Or more specifically, Trisha will, on his behalf. He had a flightless bird he needed to go spook. “Aight. You’ve been remarkably unhelpful, but I can work with that.”

Lawrence’s fear was fading, with confusion taking its place. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I’m taking over your shit gang is what. Let’s get started.”

“Started—?”

Jason grabbed his arm and jumped off the roof, which prompted more screaming.

By the time they were on solid ground again, Lawrence looked significantly worse for wear. “Fuck! Dude you’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut the fuck up before?”

“I mean yeah, sometimes—”

“Now’s one of those times.”

Surprisingly, he shut the fuck up.

Jason raised a hand to his helmet, tapping twice and sliding left to dial up the channels for his private comms.

“Sup, boss?” Trisha’s voice answered immediately in his ear. “That was fast,” she added.

“Yeah. I’m by the Highs watertower with Hines. Grab some muscle and meet me here. Make it quick.”

“Done.” She logged off. She was efficient as hell and Jason loved it. That woman took no bullshit.

Lawrence looked like he was about to say something but Jason only had to look sharply in his direction to cut the man off.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Jason began to explain, walking around the corner slightly to keep sight of the street. “My lieutenant is coming here and you’re going to tell her everything you know and everything you’re doing. And logs you have, you’ll hand over. Any equipment, weapons, or stashes you have, you’ll hand over. And if I find out you kept anything after today, I’ll let you decide which fingers you like the least.”

The man’s eyes went wide, glancing down at his hands.

“You are effectively done tonight, got it? You’ll also be calling in all your men and my lieutenant is gonna make the final call on who gets to join me and who goes home.”

“Dude, I got bills to pay! Do you think I’d be doing this shit if I could find a job?”

Jason shrugged. “That ain’t my problem. But I am sick of you making it other people’s problem. Let me make this crystal fucking clear, Lawrence,” he said, voice dropping low. “You entered my territory and hurt people under my protection. You better count your fucking blessings you get to walk away from this at all.”

And stepped back a pace, smirking, though that part was hidden. He shot a grappler up at a rooftop again, and this time Lawrence almost looked prepared to be yanked up. What he wasn’t prepare for was Jason shooting a length of cord to wrap up his legs, and then attaching the grapple and releasing the trigger.

The man was violently snatched upside down, now hanging a few feet off the ground, hitting his back on the brick wall from the momentum. Rather than going up he was flipped around, his shirt falling with it, leaving his stomach bare. He cried out again, disoriented once more.

“What the fuck—!”

“One last piece of advice,” Jason said, cutting through the yelling as he walked away. “There’s nothing glorious about stealing from desperate people. Do your best to remember that, so your mom doesn’t get a visit from the cops one day telling her where they found your body.”

“You’re a fucking bastard, Hood! You’re no better than Penguin, you know that?”

“Yeah yeah, preachin’ to the choir,” he said lazily, pulling out an actual grapple to carry him up to the adjacent building. Trisha would be here within minutes and she’d handle everything on this end. Onward to the next problem.

◇◆◇

“Excellent work, young one,” Pandora said, sounding pleased.

Danny didn’t feel excellent from where he was sitting up, a small crater gouged into the ecto-floor beneath him where he had just been smashed into.

Danny rubbed his head, even though it wasn't hurting anymore. "Ow,” he said aloud for emphasis.

Pandora laughed, offering a hand up. He took it.

“You continue to improve.”

"Improve in the art of getting my ass handed to me?"

In terms of raw power, he was the number one (supposedly). But when following pre-determined rules of combat and technique? She wiped the floor with him every time.

Speaking of the floor, it started piecing itself back together.

She grinned. "I expect another thousand years at least before you can best me, my King."

Danny pushed down the usual anxiety that came up whenever one of the ghosts mentioned his likely immortality.

"I have offended you?" Pandora quickly changed from the broad, proud stance she always carried herself with, to a slightly worried, hunched one, setting one of her many hands on his shoulder.

He forced a smile to his face as he looked up to her. “Not at all. It is merely a daunting prospect.”

Her features smoothed with understanding.

“I see. My apologies, then. We mustn’t need discuss it.”

“S’alright,” he said quickly, smiling again. He didn’t want her to worry. “I’ll have to get used to it anyways.”

“Eventually so, yes, but it is unnecessary for you to burden your mortal mind with those concerns. You are young! And life should be merry. I’d like to promise that one day, such thoughts will seem trivial compared to the expanse of the Realms, but I know that such a thing is unfathomable to you at present. So we shall not dwell.” She gave him another encouraging pat on the shoulder before turning, leading them down the row of Greek columns spread throughout her lair.

“Come, tell me of the recent developments you’ve made with the Counsil. You know how I long for the drama they refuse to share.”

He hummed, jogging to keep up with her long strides. Then he gave up and just started to float, drifting backwards down the passageway. He felt tired in a way that was unusual for his ghost form. A good kind of tired—they’d been at training for several hours now. He quickly pulled out his Foley phone to check the time, just in case.

“Let’s see,” he said, tucking it away and trying to think of something suitably juicy, “well, Clockwork accidentally implied that the role of time was more instrumental to my progress than the existence of space. Andromeda was rightly offended, and I had to assure to her she was just as important to universal integrity, and to me, as the time continuum was, even though I was not the one who made the transgression.”

“I have not known Kronos to be accidental in his assertions.”

“Yeah, I’m with you on that one, I think he was just showing off. Apparently cults on Earth have been trying to summon me, and he keeps redirecting them ahead of time.”

She gasped. “Say not!”

“That’s what he said!”

Danny smirked. Because by some stretches, that could be considered a scandal. Some would argue it was an abuse of power while others would argue it is within his rights as a member of the ruling Counsil.

Clockwork might do him more favors, since looking forward in time had more immediate benefits than looking forward in space did (in the short term) and he was still Danny’s primary mentor, but Danny openly favored Andromeda. One because she was cool as hell, he loved space and all the crazy things she could tell him about distant galaxies and stars, and two because Clocky found it annoying.  

He’s damn good at hiding whatever he’s feeling most of the time, but sometimes the mask of indifference slipped and it always made Danny cackle inwardly.

Danny had tried pointing out that spacetime could not exist without both of them guarding it, of course, but they continued in their petty arguments. Not entirely unlike old married couples did. And since he and Andromeda bickered all the time anyways, as a verbal form of brawling, Danny wasn’t above fanning the flames.

“Why do humans seek your presence? Are they aware of the dangers Pariah Dark posed before you?”

“That’s the thing, I think human magicians are realizing that Dark’s not in power anymore, and some of them are wanting to win the favor of the new King. Or just scope me out.”

“They know not the danger they would submit themselves to, were you not a benevolent ruler.”

“Yeah I know, they’re pretty dumb. I will say, I’m impressed Clockwork’s keeping them out of the picture. He did imply that eventually I will need to deal with them on my own.”

“That’s to be expected.”

He sighed. “I know. I need to decide what I want my public image to me. I don’t want to be all evil and death overlord vibes but I also don’t want people encouraged to perform a dangerous spell just for shits and giggles.”

“What counsel did the Counsil have for you?”

“Undergrowth thinks I should focus on growing for now, of course,” Danny said, rolling his eyes a little. “Said that once I have completed my life, matters of death be more relevant.” Zenith, the Ancient of Decay, had agreed with that sentiment.

Unlike Time and Space, Growth and Decay often agreed with one another. They saw themselves as taking turns with the same matter and sustenance, and did not squabble over the details of what was who’s domain. In fact, they found Danny’s halfa status to be a novelty and quite enjoyed the balance that other ghosts found awkward.

“While I am not of the same status as your mentor, my King—”

“I don’t care about status and you know it. You’re my friend and my teacher, I will always be open to your counsel,” he cut in quickly.

She laughed fondly, continuing. “And you question why you are so adored.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I would personally opt for a strongly neutral approach. Make it clear that no evil intentions will be tolerated, but also make it clear you will not go out of your way to solve mortal problems. You are altruistic by nature, but that need not extend to your image as King of the Realms. The living are not owed the same attention as your constituents.”

Danny winced. “I kinda already messed that one up, I’m afraid.”

She stopped walking, disturbed, and Danny stopped with her.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, rubbing his face. Which didn’t hurt in ghost form, thank the Ancients. “I kind of maybe got involved with a kerfuffle on Earth a few days ago. Right before I met with Lady Gotham for her favor. I was caught on camera.”

“Oh,” she said, and then resumed walking. “That does not mean you are now promised to their aid at every moment, though.”

“No, but it means they know I’m there, and I could if I wanted to.”

“They have heroes of their own, Phantom. And there are humans who actively hunt you, as well. Maybe if the humans ask for assistance, first tell them to get their governments in check.”

“Yeah I guess that’s fair.”

Pandora was one of his many mentors who had strong opinions on how he should deal with the bothersome human government. Most of which involved some nasty ultimatums and a display of power that Danny wasn’t the biggest fan of.

“What of your personal life?”

“Hm? Which part?”

“The Realms are only half your life, I wish to hear of the other half. What do you think of Gotham’s sanctuary thus far?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s great honestly. Sam came over, and I made some friends. I actually talked to Lady Gotham just yesterday because some of my other ghost friends want to come visit, so that should be fun. And I also have a job interview today!”

Her eyes lit up, excited for him. Her genuine nature was a big reason why Danny loved spending time with her.  

“How marvelous! It will be good to have less pressing duties to occupy your time, yes?”

“I think so, yeah. If I get it. Technically I’m not really qualified for it. Like no formal job experience, but I’m good at it. Or I used to be. It’s at a machine shop.” He didn’t mention it was the front desk position at a machine shop, but meh. It’d be a foot in the door.

“I’m sure such skills will return quickly once you resume the practice. You’ve often spoken of your love of creations.”

“Well, to be fair, it’ll probably be pretty mundane work.” She was referring to his habit of inventing things in his spare time. Usually small projects with no real purpose but to just be. “But I’m hoping for the best.”

“Wonderful! Let’s eat quickly then, so you can be off.” She made a tittering sound and one of the local blob ghosts emerged, carrying a platter of ecto-sandwiches on its head. A post-workout tradition of theirs. Danny took his and passed the other to Pandora, then took the third sandwich and tossed it to the blob ghost, who swallowed it whole.

He took a bite, settling back to rest. It tasted like pride. He smiled, blushing a little.

Pandora gave him a double thumbs up with her bottom pair of hands, already munching away.

◇◆◇

               Phanny pack

               Holy fuck guys I got the job

               My resume was half a page long

               Dunno how that happeend

               Tuckerbell

               Dude no way! First interview?

               Phanny pack

               Yeah. My resume was terrible but the owner had me do some demos in the back and liked my work. It was supposed to be the front desk job but I mentioned I knew how to weld so we did that instead

               Undergoth

               Thats awesome Danny

               Good vibes?

               Phanny pack

               Yeah great vibes tbh. Its a small shop only like 3 people work there

               I gotta get another phone though I told him I didnt have one

               Tuckerbell

               Fair

               Phanny pack

               He also asked if I had an address….cuz yknow I left it blank on the form. I kinda got nervous though and he guessed I was homeless

               He didnt have an issue with it though and said if I need a referral for an apt he can provide one

               Which… works?

               Undergoth

               Wow thats nice of him

               Phanny pack

               Right? I kinda wasnt sure what to expect. Some ppl are assholes about that kind of thing but he said he knows a lot of street kids. I think the backpack gave it away?

               Tuckerbell

               Wow bro Im glad he was chill. Sounds like a decent guy, esp for a first job

               Undergoth

               Hows the pay?

               Phanny pack

               Bit higher than min wage but he mentioned raises as long as I stick around

               Tuckerbell

               Fair fair

Danny had snagged some coffee after leaving the interview. He hadn’t prepared much other than buying a new pair of jeans since he really hadn’t known what to expect. But Arnold, the boss, had been laid back and not judgmental in the slightest. It was still weird being…perceived again, in a more real sense. More permanently than passing someone on the sidewalk at least or exchanging pleasantries while ordering food, which was the normal extent of his social interactions. But it was fine. The work demonstrations had been kind of calming, even though the shop had been disorganized. He had a couple hours till sundown. He was far more nervous for his evening plans than he had been for the interview.

Had the interview fallen through, he’d have gone somewhere else.

If things fell through tonight, it’d be a bit harder. He’d been hanging around the Narrows more, talking with some of the street faces and many of the ghosts in the area. The ghosts were able to point him in the right direction.

To kill some time he had already gone shopping for a cheap burner phone, got a simple plan with prepaid minutes, and then had portalled Cujo over to do his promised walk through the city, stopping by Robinson Park again. It had been tricky to actually play fetch while looking he was alone and not doing anything suspicious, but he’d managed. Whenever anyone had given him an odd look he’d just pretended to stretch or reach to tie his shoelaces instead of throwing an invisible ball for an invisible dog. Cujo had been quite thrilled with the development though, considering it’d been years since Danny had let him properly roam around. It had felt good and was a fun way to distract himself from the anxiety for tonight.

Danny looked up as the sky turned a muted orange, then dull purple as the sun began to set. Once it was fully dark he sent Cujo home after many squishes and kisses and was now completing the last item on his agenda, which was hunting down a takeout pasta restaurant he’d heard about from the employees at the phone place. Supposedly it was like a sandwich shop where you build it yourself and pay for the total, which was so exciting? Online the reviews said there was like five kinds of cheeses you could add to the macaroni bowls and Danny was dying to try it.

He felt pretty confident in his plan so now it was just a matter of waiting. Hopefully the food wouldn’t get too cold.

◇◆◇

This is a bad idea, was the only thing Jason could think of while pulling into the cave. He’d been going back and forth about it all day but as soon as he decided to give it a shot, a bad feeling had settled in his stomach. He didn’t know if it was anxiety or paranoia. He didn’t have a reason to be paranoid right now, but that’s why it’s called paranoia. These meetings tended to be a tossup in how well they went, but contrary to everyone’s opinions, he didn’t like fighting with his family. He climbed off the motorcycle, making sure the kickstand was in place, before removing his helmet and setting it on the seat.

Jason could already hear the chattering filling what was normally a fairly quiet space and made his way over to the usual setup, a side room with an actual table up behind the row of old Robin suits. He pointedly avoided looking at his own.

“Ah, Master Jason! How very good to see you.” Alfred began up the stairs to the hidden alcove, carrying a large tray with a kettle and several cups.

Jason couldn’t help but smile, lingering to give the butler a chance to catch up. “Hey Alfred, good to see you too.”

“Jason’s here?” Dick said from around the corner before appearing a second later. “Eyy, little wing! You made it!”

He ran in for a hug and Jason allowed it, though he made sure to make a show of rolling his eyes.

“I saw you two days ago.”

“Yeah but I had no way of knowing whether it’d another two days or another two weeks. C’mon, we’re just waiting on Tim and B.”

They followed Alfred in, who was handing out cups and arranging sugar cubes and creamer nearby. Jason took the spot next to Cass furthest away from the head of the table. Alfred poured him some black tea. Everyone was talking over each other about their own cases, Dick was up by the front of course, to the right of where Bruce always sits, but kept glancing his way. Damian always sat to the left but none of the others had unofficial assigned seats.

Babs, right across from him, was typing something on her laptop. The screen was reflecting off her glasses, showing multiple tabs open.

“So. You have anything interesting come up lately?”

“Nah,” Jason shrugged. “Same old shit.”

“Really?” She smirked, teasing. “I heard Penguin’s place got hit.”

Jason grinned. “Yeah, which is the same old shit.”

She snorted, shaking her head before taking a sip of her tea. Babs always put in a lot of creamer.

“Yo, Jason!” Duke called over, and Jason tilted the chair back to be able to better see him. “I finally finished the Sherlock Holmes collections.”

Jason grinned. “What did you think?”

“Really good! I liked it way more than I thought I would. I mean it’s dense but it was really fun.”

“Right?

“I think the Hound of the Baskervilles was my favorite.”

Jason chuckled. “Study in Scarlet’s always my fav. I like their dynamic when Sherlock first meets Watson. ‘Beware his eccentricities’ and all that,” he said, grinning.

Duke grinned back. “Yeah, that was good. Solid read.”

“Let me know if you need more suggestions, I’ve read most the books in the library upstairs.”

“Hell yeah, man.”

Jason let the chair fall back on all fours, crossing his arms. He was still getting to know Duke but their schedule clashes didn’t exactly make it easy. That, and Jason’s antisocial tendencies.

Finally Tim and Bruce walked in, B pausing only for a second when their eyes met. Everyone was suited up save for the masks.

“Oh. Jason.” He blinked like he was readjusting himself. Then smiled.

Jason could never tell if it was forced or not.

“Hey, B.”

Bruce only nodded before clearing his throat, and took his spot at the front of the table so that the screen was behind him. It was high enough they could all see it easily, though.

“Alright, everyone.” The chatter died down instantly. It was always obvious to those who knew him when Bruce shifted into Batman-mode. His posture became rigid, his eyes focused, and his voice inflections changed just slightly. “We have some major updates. Some from the League and some local. Most of you have heard this, but let’s start with the big one—the Happy Harbor Unknown.”

A video appeared on the screen and Jason leaned back to observe.

“A magical entity made major news headlines last week following a villain outbreak in Happy Harbor. The super-droid Amazo was released and several explosions hit the city simultaneously. Toy Master is still at large but we have League members following up on leads. The more pressing issue is the Unknown, pictured here.”

He paused the feed at a point where a person with white hair was staring at the screen. Jason squinted. Why was the quality so bad?

“We did not know this at the time, but Constantine has confirmed the entity is a ghost. We have no information on the possible location of the Unknown or the ship. It’s been made a priority of the JLD but we’re still waiting to hear back on any leads from that case.” Bruce’s fingers twitched slightly from where he was holding the tablet which controlled the monitor.  

Jason raised a brow. B was irritated.

“A ghost…?” Duke asked. “Ghosts are real?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, glancing up. “We have a file on them you can read later, Signal. Or anyone for the matter, who needs a refresher.”

Jason had never worked on any supernatural cases, nor was he interested in volunteering. He liked problems he could shoot.

“Why is the ghost more pressing than the villain attack?” Steph asked. “I mean, he’s obviously on our side.”

“Don’t be so naïve, Brown,” Damian cut in. “Assuming a ghost has the same sense of morality as humans is far too presumptuous. It would be like assuming Martians hold the same values we do.”

“Looks like he has the same sense of preservation, though,” she countered. “His fight or flight kicked in.”

Jason blinked. Can ghosts die?

“You’re correct, Robin, we shouldn’t conclude anything yet,” Bruce added. Jason saw Damian smile smugly and rolled his eyes. “Not without more evidence. It could have been some kind of preexisting feud between the two parties. Zatanna also pointed out it could have been a case of territoriality.”

“Has anyone analyzed the fighting style yet?” Dick asked, swiping through frames. “It looks distinctive, we could possibly trace that back to a culture of origin.”

“No, we haven’t assessed that far.”

Jason’s brow furrowed. He leaned over to where Cass was sitting beside him with her tablet. Jason never brought notes to these meetings. “Can I see what they’re talking about?”

She smiled sideways at him like they were sharing an inside joke and passed the tablet over. Cass was the chillest of his siblings. He finished the rest of his tea and hit play. Alfred’s brews never disappointed.

“For those not familiar with the case, the Unknown stepped in to end the fight once he was attacked directly. This is being considered high priority because according to the JLD, ghosts don’t normally exhibit this kind of behavior. We currently believe the higher threat level is the white ship as it fired on both civilians and heroes, but we don’t have any leads there yet. We’re hoping more information on the Unknown will provide some context.”

“…Did we hear a final count on the death toll, B?” Duke asked quietly.

Bruce’s face softened just slightly. “33.”

Jason glanced over to see Signal nodding but not meeting anyone’s eyes. He must have been sent in for search and rescue or something.

“I see where you’re coming from,” Tim started, looking up from yet another tablet. “And I agree we need more information. But I’d like to point out that the Unknown made two separate comments concerning the safety of the civilians, which would support Spoiler’s observation.”

“That has been taken into consideration,” Bruce amended.

Everyone nodded along.

“If anyone finds anything related to it, contact me first. I’m the primary for this case.” He paused, taking a sip of his tea for the first time. “Second for today’s agenda—rumors of an Arkham outbreak are spreading again. We’ve upped surveillance as usual and Oracle’s running more background checks on the current guards.”

“One day we’ll catch someone before they break,” Babs commented, not looking up from her screen.

Alfred stepped up from where he was standing off to the side and refilled Jason’s cup. He smiled in thanks as the butler paused to also top off Babs’.

“Since we all know the statistics, we will be sending a Bat out on patrol every night for the next few weeks to scout the facility. Patrol updates have been sent to all of you.”

Jason tapped his thumb against the table. He didn’t get any updates of course, because he refused to be mixed in to the normal rotations. But if a breakout happened, he’d be there in a heartbeat.

“A final note—as far as we known, Poison Ivy has halted her progress on the seed spreader project. It’s unclear yet whether this will be a permanent change but for now we’re hopeful. So if you see anything unusual near Robinson Park, be sure to report in. Red Robin is the primary for Ivy’s case.”

Another round of nods throughout the room. Jason remembered hearing the update from the comms chat on Friday.

“Those are the main concerns for this week. Now I’d like to hear individual reports.” Bruce leaned back, crossing his fingers and gesturing to Dick. “Nightwing?”

“Routine on my end. Tracked down the threat on the waterways and that’s been cleared. Jay helped me take down a drug trade which had been active between Bludhaven and Gotham, and I got some good intel on where the incoming shipments were coming from.”

Jason zoned out to focus on the video. He backed it up a few times to rewatch the one-on-one fight, and he could see what Dick meant about the style. Who knew ghosts were good fighters. Did they keep muscle memory when they died? Dick talked, then Tim, Steph, although Babs skipped since everyone checked in with her regularly anyways. When he heard her name, he paused the feed, knowing he’d be up soon, ending right as the Amazo fight had wrapped up.

“Hood?”

“Yep.” He leaned back a little to make it look like he was paying attention. “Nothing much on my end. Two Face tried stirring up some shit but I caught it early.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “We heard your people were moving against Penguin.”

“I may have dropped in to say hi but it wasn’t a raid. And it was a set-up anyway. I got a tip that Penguin paid off some street thugs to start some problems in the Narrows. They tried to claim it was a hit from the Court of Owls but it wasn’t believable. I followed it back and found out Two Face has been sending out threats and trying to get Penguin to take the fall for it.”

“What caused that?” Babs asked, looking up. Oracle was worse than Batman when it came to wanting to know everything.

“Apparently Penguin stole some of Two Face’s big customers and he wanted retaliation. Two Face’s men weren’t careful about who they hired though, he didn’t expect it to get back to me. I took out their base.”

“You didn’t apprehend him?” Bruce said, concern in his voice.

“Didn’t need to, he’s made a mess of things himself. Now Dent has to deal with my people and Penguin’s, who’s pissed. He’ll be busy for months. I’m stopping by tomorrow to visit the customers they’re fighting over, I should be able to get them to back down as well. They’re not rich enough to risk starting a war with me.”

Bruce didn’t seem to agree with that but didn’t comment, either.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged.

Jason nodded for Cass to go but she didn’t get the chance before—

“Jason.”

His eyes snapped back up to find Bruce still staring at him. The room had gone quiet. There had been a tone.

A couple awkward beats passed. “…What?”

“I’d prefer it if you were the one telling me things, Hood. We’ve been over this.” He was using his gentle parent voice. Jason had to stamp down the irrational surge of anger that ignited from it.

“Honest to God Bruce, I don’t know what you mean.”

Jason saw Dick readjust slightly in his seat, fidgeting.

“We got word you gained control of another gang.”

That made him pause. Then his eyes narrowed. “From who?”

“That’s not important—”

“To me it is. I need to know if I have a snitch.”

“It was from me,” Babs finally said, subdued. “Not on purpose. No snooping. But people talk Hood, and if they say it in Gotham, more often than not I hear about it eventually. It wasn’t exactly a quiet takeover.”

Then it clicked. “You mean the deadbeat Narrows thugs? They weren’t a real gang. Bunch of untrained idiots looking for a quick buck.”

“Then why did you hire them?” Bruce pressed.

Jason forced himself to pause and speak calmly, though his instinct was to yell. “Because, B, people who do shit like that don’t just go back to having day jobs. They’re going to be on the street anyways, I might as well control what they’re doing there. And we turned more than half of them away.”

“Bruce,” Dick tried to cut in softly, “Do we have to have this conversation now? There was no real harm done.”

“There was no harm done period.”

“It’s the principle, Jason,” he insisted, ignoring Dick. “You said you would stop with all the gangs and start working with us again.”

Resentment washed over him sharp enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and Jason set his hands flat on the table to keep them from balling into fists. “I agreed to work with you, not for you! I’m serious, B, you don’t get to tell me how to run my territory! You don’t’ tell Dick what to do in Bludhaven,” he finally said, gesturing.

“Actually, he does, sometimes,” Dick said, running a hand through his hair. It fell loosely back across one shoulder. “C’mon Jay, no one’s attacking you here.”

“But he is!” He raised halfway out of his seat. “You’re questioning me again, Bruce, because you don’t fucking trust me!”

“Master Jason,” Alfred admonished quietly from the side. “Please.”

Jason lowered himself back into the seat with a huff, only for Alfred. Bruce’s expression was one he didn’t want to pick apart right now.

“You don’t answer comms, you don’t report patrols, you’ve kept all of your underground contacts.”

Jason glared. “I just helped Dick with a drug raid. And Arkham? When shit hits the fan I’m there every time. A League level threat comes to Gotham? I’m there.”

“That’s just it, you’re selective, Jason. You’re not working as part of a team. We’re all working together to protect Gotham. To protect other people.”

“Bruce. C’mon,” Dick said, “this isn’t going anywhere.”

Babs was now rubbing her temple, possibly regretting bringing it up.

Good, he thought, hating how vindicated he felt.

“Fuck you, I work great with everyone else. Sorry I’m not delusional enough to think it’s actually feasible to fix all of the world’s problems. You might not like it but my methods keep a lid on the crime in Gotham, and I know you disagree with that approach, but I don’t tell you how to be Batman. Don’t you dare try to tell me how to be Red Hood—because I sure as hell am not your Robin anymore.”

The room went silent.

Damian tsked, but Jason ignored it for once.

Bruce took a deep breath, looking down briefly, then back up with purposeful calmness. “I know that, Jason. I’m not saying you have to be.”

“Yeah, what do you call this then? Did you think you’d have backup, calling me out in front of everyone like this?”

“Your actions affect everyone in this room, Jason. That’s what being a family means.”

“And what exactly do you expect me to do when I find people dealing guns in my neighborhood?”

“Somehow,” he said mildly, “shooting at them doesn’t feel like a solution.”

“Nah, it actually tends to end things pretty quick.”

“It’s perpetuating—”

“Don’t give me the same shit about the fucking cycles, that’s such a bullshit defense.” Jason could see Bruce clenching his jaw now and knew he probably looked worse. “They were in the Narrows, in my territory, and you know what? If anyone in that neighborhood buys a gun, they can shoot the kids in my part of town, and you know who's fault that would be, if they come over to my side and start killing people?”

“The gunman’s,” Bruce replied curtly.

“No. It would've been my fault. Because I could have prevented it.”

“Little wing—” Dick tired again, but Jason wasn’t done.

“Fuck off Dick. Stop trying to get in the middle of everything.” He glared back at Bruce, rising to stand again. “You know, I agreed to step down from the crime business because I wanted to make things better between us. So why am I the only one making compromises? I don’t actually need any of you—I was running Gotham on my own just fine.”

That was enough to push B to stand up as well, which prompted Dick dropped his head to his hand, defeated. The others were probably similarly exasperated but Jason didn’t spare them a glance.

“You were not fine, Jason! You were running around murdering anyone who disagreed with you! Dozens a day, in some cases!”

“Oracle,” Jason said, a bit stiff with the change in tone, “you got the stats on the crime rates from two years ago?”

Two years since he had let go of the empire he’d built, let Gotham fall apart again, and Bruce was still coming at him for it. And nothing was better for it.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even pretend to look them up.

“Yeah, they were lower, weren’t they? I know they were, I ran the numbers myself. Crime was down when I was doing things my way. Now, Penguin, Two Face, Black Mask? They’re all back in their normal business and you’re just letting it happen!”

“And yet you had the chance to arrest Two Face and you didn’t bring him in—”

“I don’t have grounds to arrest anyone, or do you forget that you’re not the law, Bruce? We’re vigilantes. What you’re doing now is just as illegal as what I was doing before, and it was a hell of a lot safer for everyone except the assholes in charge.”

“We are now sanctioned with the League—"

“You are now sanctioned. Most of us aren’t.”

“By affiliation—"

“And screw the League anyways,” he cut in, still ranting. “Since when do we care what the government thinks? You've told them and the League to fuck off when they started making bad decisions, so I know you know that they're not the end-all. Hell, Gotham PD wanted your head on a spike the first few years you were doing this and now you wanna talk about doing it politically?”

“We do more good this way.”

Jason laughed but it sounded hollow. “Debatable, but I don’t really care about that. I’m not a League member—I was just a kid from the Narrows. I protect my own people. That’s what I’ve always done. It’s not that fucking hard to understand.”

They were at a standstill again. A familiar one. They’ve had this argument countless times. Jason cursed under his breath, turning away and rubbing his eyes. None of the tension went away but he tried to clear his head nonetheless. He should have trusted his gut and not come today. This was never going to be something him and Bruce agreed on. What the hell had made him think they could work through this?

What were they even arguing about again? The gang violence or Jason’s choices? Did it matter?

Everyone in the room seemed to be waiting for him to blow up. As if he were the one that started it.

“One day, Bruce, you’re going to have to learn that not everyone sees things the way you do. You are not all there is to Gotham.”

“Jay—”

He stormed out of the room before Bruce could finish, not wanting to hear it. He knew he’d feel guilty for it later but right now he was nearly ready to blow up and he didn’t want to do that to them.

Jason jumped the railing to land on the ground before speedwalking over to his bike. He didn’t think anyone was following but he also didn’t turn around to check. He shoved his helmet on, hopped on, and sped off, leaving skid marks on the polished floor of the Batcave.

The drive helped him cool his head a little, but honestly, it wasn’t enough. Even driving by all the rich-ass mansions on the way back into the city had his blood boiling again. Normally he would leave for patrol soon—but then he thought about Bruce’s comments about him not checking in and it just made him want to scream. He didn’t owe anyone anything, especially not a play-by-play of his goddamn schedule.

He decided to reroute back to a safehouse first. He needed to crash for a bit. To get Bruce’s words out of his head and just be no one for a little while. He made a quick drive-by of Crime Alley, just to reassure himself it was empty still, before driving the final few blocks to the abandoned apartment building he used for emergencies. It was one of his low-tech spots and structurally unsound, which meant no one else ever hid out here.

He stored his bike in the normal place and started up the stairs two at a time. He felt exhausted for some reason. God the quiet was bliss. No chatter. No people. He kept going up to the top floor to the only room with a working lock. Once inside he finally felt his shoulders relax a little, tucking the keys away. He took two steps into the apartment before he felt something off.

His anxiety melted away immediately as cold instinct kicked in. His mind went blank with sudden focus and he quietly drew a gun from its thigh holster, flicking the safety off to tip toe around the small hallway. He knew which floorboards to step on to remain silent, and this safehouse only had one room.

He waited for a beat then swiftly stepped around the corner, finger on the trigger.

“Hi,” a voice said casually.

He snapped up to target.

The man sitting on his couch didn’t flinch. In fact he didn’t even put down the bowl he was eating out of.

"I got mac ‘n cheese. You're not lactose intolerant, right?"

A beat passed where Jason’s indignation momentarily outweighed his anger.

“Excuse the fuck out of me? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” he said lightly.

He immediately thought of Penguin or Two Face.

“On who’s behalf?”

“Yours.”

Jason didn't move, didn’t lower the gun, and the helmet kept his facial expressions hidden. No minutiae to pick apart. He was shocked none of the other Bats had opted for the same, honestly, with how stringent they all were with their identities.

"Stop fucking around and tell me why you're here."

"I was hoping we could talk," he said evenly, slowly moving to set the bowl down and placing his hands in the oversized hoodie he was wearing. Which could easily be hiding a weapon. “It’s a bit of a hard topic, but I thought I’d start by introducing myself. My name’s Danny, and I think I can help you.”

Chapter Text

Danny made sure to outwardly appear relaxed and confident, but right now, he was second-guessing himself quite badly. He figured coming out in the open and being honest about his intentions would be less threatening than sneaking around, but based on Hood’s reaction, it was in fact, not.

“What exactly,” Hood said, his voice obscured by the modulator but dripping with contempt, “do you think I need help with? And how’d you find this spot?”

“Uh, I just asked around,” he said evasively. It was the truth though…

Hood’s head angled down, immediately going for the intimidating approach. He had done the exact same thing last time he met Danny, which was giving him déjà vu again. He was getting that a lot lately. “Mind telling me who was dumb enough to betray me?”

“No one betrayed you,” Danny said quickly, holding his hands up to convey cooperation, “I uh—” here we go, “It’s a bit unorthodox.”

Hood gestured with the gun for him to continue.

“Look,” Danny said, breathing out and running a hand through his hair. This was more stressful than it had been the first time, even with only one Bat present. Although last time he had told them outright he was part ghost cause they had a problem that needed immediate attention and this time he wanted to ease into it. Tricky. “I’m happy to tell you, but I don’t want you to shoot me before hearing me out.”

Sure he could phase through bullets, but it was hard to convince someone you meant no harm once literal shots were fired. Dora often stressed that negotiations were difficult to recover once the first blow was struck.

Hood grunted, lowering the gun but notably didn’t put it away. Danny smiled in appreciation.

“Thanks. So. Um, my contacts are dead people.”

The gun twitched but he otherwise didn’t react.

“I can talk to ghosts.” He had very carefully debated before coming here what all he was going to reveal now and what he was going to feel out. “And I know that sounds like some bad horror movie type shit, but it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “Prove it?”

“Yeah, you’re an occultist? Do something magic-y.”

“Um…” Danny floundered for a minute. He hadn’t anticipated being tested on it. Wasn’t being here enough proof? Then a thought occurred to him— “Wanna meet my dog?”

“Excuse me?” Hood asked again in a crackling voice, his irritation clearly rising.

“Yeah I have a dead dog. He’s friendly! Would that work?”

Hood seemed to consider it, or maybe he was just flabbergasted. Danny couldn't tell.

“Fine,” he said, dropping heavily into a moth-eaten chair. None of the furniture here was in good shape, Danny hoped the other spots weren’t this bad. Not that he could judge. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this… What, does the dog knock shit over on command?” He starting looking around.

Danny snorted, he couldn’t help it. He snagged another quick bite of the mac ‘n cheese since it was cold now and the sauce was beginning to dry. Danny gestured for Hood to take the other bowl, but the man didn’t move an inch.

Yeah, that’s fair. I definitely spooked ‘em.

Danny began to focus on the space in front of him and Hood leaned forward to study him.

Cujo’s summoning circle was drastically easier than Fright Knight’s, for example, or any of his friends—he didn’t have a core that needed to be transferred. In less than a minute he had it done, and a glowing white circle appeared in the cracked, dusty floors, shining green just before a small, adorable Cujo took its place. Danny had modified the circle of course, to make him visible to humans.

Jason jumped up, shocked even though Danny had been very upfront about what he was doing.

Cujo immediately turned to Hood, ears back, distrusting.

“Cujo! Here boy!”

Threat forgotten, Cujo turned and lolled his tongue out, yipping as he ran up to Danny and hopped on his lap. He was in puppy mode of course.

"Holy shit.”

"Yeah he’s a cutie, right?"

"He's glowing…”

"Ghosts do that, ya."

Hood’s guard seemed to be lowering, that was good right? This should make his story believable. Plus, who didn’t like dogs?

"Why the fuck do you have a dead dog?"

"Long story? But I mean to sum it up, basically I died once."

At that, Hood stiffened. Ghosts and dead people didn't get to him, but apparently dying did?

"…Lot’s of people die and get resuscitated,” he argued, “What makes you special?”

"Eh, weird side effects. I kinda took on a job as a mediator though, for ghosts. They like to talk."

Hood sighed, looking exhausted, and slowly lowered himself back into the chair, tilting his head towards the ceiling. “What kind of side effects are we talking about here?”

Danny had anticipated this. For now, he wanted to keep things simple. First bring up knowing about ghosts, then bring up being kind of a ghost (aka partial death), then once things were settled, he’d get to the nasty stuff… The time travel, the GIW… all that.

"Well, I can talk to ghosts of course."

Hood angled his head again in what was obviously a glare, and Danny chuckled, a bit strained. "Sorry. I’m pretty fast and have a high healing rate. Look, can we talk about you?” He wasn’t quite ready to talk about his death, especially not when this seemed to be triggering to Hood. One emotional breakdown at a time.

Hood was carefully silent for a few seconds. "…What about me?" he bit out, strained.

Danny smiled a little, hoping to reassure him, and folded his hands over his lap across Cujo to exude calmness. "I know you've died before. And I think it made you sick."

Hood’s ectoplasm immediately riled up at that and he shot up again, cursing. He ran a hand over his helmet before yanking it off, throwing it across the room. It hit the wall hard before rolling noisily across the floor. "Jesus Christ I don't have the mental capacity for this right now.” He started to pace and Danny saw his eyes glowing with a familiar green energy.

His own widened. Holy shit. If Hood knew enough about magic to ask Danny to prove he could see ghosts, why hadn't anyone checked on him before this? He obviously knew other magicians—he had called them occultists. Weren’t occultists just like, pagans and shit though? Whatever, anyone magically inclined should've been able to pick up on ecto levels like this.

Cujo whimpered, sensing the distress. Danny bit his cheek, panicking. “Sorry for like, surprising you with this. Wasn't really sure how to say, hey, fellow alive person, want ghost therapy?” He nervously chuckled again, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “So um yeah… Did you want me to leave? We can do this another time if you need some space? Decompress a bit?”

Any Death-born with a core reacted badly to someone bringing up their death. Now that he was close enough to actually take it in, it was a core… but it wasn’t stable. Hood’s was pulsating like an uneven heartbeat, lashing out like it was rabid. Or desperate. Healthy cores were calm, steady things. Something was wrong here. It was making Danny feel ill, so he couldn’t even imagine what Hood was feeling. The ectoplasm was literally leaking out of him like a fresh wound and Danny didn’t know what to do about it.

He didn’t really think leaving Hood alone was a good idea but he also didn’t know what to do. He needed to go to Frostbite, ideally, but he looked like he was barely holding it together as is. 

Hood was still pacing.

Danny should probably say something.

“…Want to pet Cujo?”

“I don't want to pet the fucking dog!”

“Okay,” Danny agreed easily. This kind of thing was overwhelming, naturally. Last time, he hadn’t even gotten to talk to Hood about any of this. Everything else was going too badly to make time for it. “What would help you right now?”

Hood wheeled on him, breaking mid-stride. “How do you know I died?”

“I can feel it,” he answered calmly. Calm was important right now. He focused on keeping his core calm too, trying to emit feelings of safety and reassurance.

“Goddamn fucking magic bullshit,” he fumed, turning again to pace. Then he came to another stop. “You said your name was Danny?”

That made him hesitate. It seemed very pointed. “Yeah…? Why?”

“You wouldn't happen to be Green Danny, would you?”

“No, I’m white. He’s green.” He scratched Cujo’s head.  

“That’s not what I fucking meant!”

Danny flailed for a moment, lost again. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” he finally admitted.

“The Green. Connected to the green earth hippie cult vibe shit or whatever it is. Associate of Poison Ivy?”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “I talked with her. Once. I don't think I could call us associates.”

“But you’re with that Green bullshit?”

“How did you even hear about that?” Dr. Isley seemed like a private person, and he doubted she would have gone to the Bats about him?

“Don't worry about it. You are, aren't you? God, I need backup.” He began scratching his head with the hand still holding the gun—yikes this was getting out hand.

Danny rose to his feet quickly, forcing Cujo to hop down. “Hey, whoa, I’m not gonna hurt you alright? And I’m definitely not here on Ivy’s behalf. Like I said, I'm here to help you. I'm worried because your side effects are…unusual.”

“And how the fuck would you know that?” His eyes behind the red domino were bleeding green. Danny could feel the rage burning from here.

“Because that,” Danny said carefully, “isn't supposed to happen. Getting angry, sure fine. But don’t you feel that? In your chest?”

Hood balked, flinching back like he’d been struck. “How… how did you…”

Danny tried to smile again, hands up one more time. “I’ve been doing this a while. Look, like I said, I’m just looking to make sure you’re okay. Whatever form that needs to take is good in my book. And I know this is...  A lot to hear. You wanted to call someone, right? Do you have anyone who could be emotional support?”

“I just told my emotional support to fuck off for the day.”

Danny nodded. "Ah. Well, that's okay. The hard part’s over, right? I know it hurts to talk about, to hear it from someone else—but we’ve ripped the bandaid off, so to say. Do you want me to come back tomorrow? You can sleep on it, maybe?”

“Are you gonna disappear?”

“Why would I, after revealing myself to you?”

Hood shrugged. “To get under my skin, to ambush me, to make me question myself.”

Danny blew hair out of his face. Paranoid TM. “Nah, I’m not looking to start any psychological warfare. That would be fucked up. I mean look I also I brought macaroni. Sign of good faith?”

“Could be poisoned.”

“I could take a bite?”

“Could be pumped on antidote.”

“Poison test...?”

“Takes too long to be thorough.”

Danny pouted. “Well, it's really good macaroni.”

“I’m not exactly hungry, you know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Danny sighed, slumping. “Fair point.”

The green was beginning to fade from his eyes. Danny saw his shoulders purposefully relax as he rubbed his face, finally reholstering the gun.

“Alright kid—”

“Dude you’re not forty,” Danny scoffed, because Hood had been over forty when they met in the future. He knows because Katana Robin frequently made fun of the others for their ages. So wouldn’t they be like the same age now?

Hood glared and Danny apologized.

“Let me make this simple. Sure, let’s meet tomorrow. But I swear to God—” he stalked up a bit, getting right in Danny’s face, “if you don’t show up you can bet your ass I’ll find you. You think you got connections? You don’t got nothin’ on my network. I found out you visited Ivy remember? So you better not be lying to me because—” he laughed bitterly, “I will fucking find your ass and beat the answers out of you if I have to. Got it?”

Danny kept his expression neutral.

“I would never ghost you like that.”

Hood’s face twitched in annoyance and the green started to come back—

He quickly brought up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I get sarcastic when I’m stressed, bad coping mechanism.” He made an effort to look serious again “I promise I’ll come back tomorrow. I wouldn’t have come today if I knew you’d be tired, but I thought y’all were night owls.”

Night robins, he desperately wanted to say, but he kept it to himself. Not the fuckin’ time. Nope.

The green died back down and Danny smiled, but then he noticed Hood was shaking a little and his face fell. Shit. I really fucked this up. Was he still irritable? Or afraid maybe? Or was it just an adrenaline rush?

Fuck. I wanted to do better this time. A sour feeling settled in his stomach at the realization of failure.

He thought about the code, but then thought about what Dr. Isley said about Red Hood and Batman fighting. He didn’t want to botch this worse than he already had. He honestly needed to feel this whole thing out way more carefully. He should have done some proper surveillance but he’d been so eager to finally be able to help Red Hood. And if he had gotten caught spying, it probably would have ruined everything. He needed to be trustworthy.

“Fine. Be here at 7 then.”

“Done. I’ll be here. Uhh, like right here, same place?”

“Yeah might as well. And I’m calling in that emotional support.”

“I think that’d be a great idea.”

Hood gestured for him to leave and Danny went to grab his half-eaten bowl of macaroni, feeling embarrassed. Obviously he felt bad leaving Hood after freaking him out so bad but… it wasn’t like he could make Hood trust him immediately. And pushing more would likely just cause him to blow up again.

“Okay, thanks…” He lingered by the door awkwardly for a second before waving. “Bye.”

Then he whistled for Cujo who had been waiting patiently and the pup ran over to trail after him, pausing once to sniff at Hood, before trotting off. Danny smiled in apology and left.

◇◆◇

As soon as Danny shut the door, Jason creeped over to listen as he went down the stairs.

“That was not my best work,” he heard Danny mutter, “you did good though. You were a very good boy. Sorry for pulling you back so soon. C’mon, we gotta make you invisible again before we head out.” And then the sounds of footsteps on the stairs became softer until he couldn’t hear them anymore.

Jason whipped out his Red Hood phone, pulling up the locator for the tracker he just placed on Green Danny.

It was circling for a little but as Danny finished going down the stairs and then out onto the street. Jason made his way over to the dirty window, crouching low to peek out. Danny was heading down the sidewalk, the dog nowhere in sight.

He retrieved his helmet and then dialed up Trisha.

A moment passed before she answered. “Hey, boss. Whatcha need?”

“I’m sending you a tracking signal,” he said, not bothering with niceties. “I need you to follow at a distance and let me know where he’s going and if he’s meeting anyone.”

“Can do,” she said, just as he sent it over. He heard the ping go off on her end.

“And put everything on silent, I’m pretty sure he has enhanced senses. Distance is key.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“No, just text me if something weird happens.”

“Aight, over and out.”

Jason sighed and began to pace. Ideally of course, it would have been best to follow Danny personally. But apparently he could feel him somehow, which was irritating as fuck.

This is why I don’t like magic.

That god-awful feeling in chest began to get worse—he could feel himself spiraling. He dropped to the floor, dropping his head between his knees to try and stave it off. He couldn’t afford this right now, there was shit he needed to do. He wanted to poison test that macaroni bowl, because who the fuck breaks into someone’s hidden safehouse and brings food? Who would fall for that? Knowing what kind of drugs Danny had access to could tell him something, though. Or maybe not, but it was worth checking.

He also needed to head over to his primary safehouse where he actually had some tech set up—not all his gear was Bat grade, some was his own, but he needed Bat tech to hack into the main Batcomputer. He wanted to snag the file Bruce mentioned they had on ghosts. Because like hell he’d ask for it outright after what happened tonight.

He began to shake worse—holding off the visceral rage that came over him everytime this… this feeling got triggered, it was impossible. He’d never been able to shake it. But there was a reason for it? Maybe? Green Danny seemed to think so. It was good the Pit Rage hadn’t come while Danny had been here—hurting him or scaring him off would have made it harder to get more out of him. It was like it had deliberately stalled or something, which was ludicrous.

Finally he growled, standing to march over to the window. He had to make this go away somehow—beat up some thugs or… or something.

He jumped, grappling over between buildings—letting the rush of the wind and the falling smooth some of his anger—but it wasn’t enough. Adrenaline never did it, it always demanded violence. Who would be a good target tonight? His mood was too dangerous for street fights—he’d probably end up killing someone. Someone who didn’t actually deserve it.

Oh.

He knew exactly who to go after.

He hadn’t pissed off Black Mask in a while, and it was never good to let men like that get comfortable. Otherwise they started to get confident, and that never ended well.

Plus, Jason felt like blowing something up.

◇◆◇

               RH

               If I were to ask you a favor would you keep it to yourself

               O

               I guess itd depend on the favor, but probably

               Sorry about last night btw. I didnt tell Bruce so hed start a fight with you

               RH

               Its whatever. Still mad but not at you

               Related though, can you tell me when B leaves?

               O

               Oo. What are you stealing

               RH

               Nothin, need the computer

               O

               Anything I can search for you?

               RH

               Nah

               Just let me know when its clear

               O

               He mentioned going to the watchtower tonight but dont expect an empty house

               RH

               Thats fine dont care

               Meant to say sorry to A anyways

Jason had spent the rest of the night snooping and planting bombs to pass the time. Well, the bombs had come first, and then some gunfights, but once he calmed down he had the focus he needed to snoop. He hadn’t been able to get an ounce of sleep, of course. But strangely he felt ready for today. Ready for some answers, hopefully, because he didn’t figure shit out last night.

Trisha’s trail on Danny was a mess. The signal kept cutting in and out randomly for an hour until it disappeared entirely. She hadn’t been able to find him even with Charlie joining in the search. Which at first seemed suspicious as hell, until he got to the point in the file he pulled that technology tended to fritz out around ghosts. Which meant Danny’s pet ghost probably disabled the tracker. Irritating, but not outright malicious. Not by itself.

All the poison tests he ran also came back clean…which was odd. Jason couldn’t think of any reason why Danny would be so… upfront. Friendly, even. Especially to a guy who’d pointed a gun between his eyes.

Then, of course, he had to message Dick… because he just didn’t feel okay calling in any of the other Bats for this. Dick got on his nerves but he’d never not been there when Jason needed him. His second pick would have been Cass but he didn’t like getting angry around her—she was too sensitive to other people’s emotions, and right now, he was a wreck. Tim and him were just starting to fix things, Damian tended to remind him of his time with Ra’s, and he wasn’t super close to either Steph or Duke.

But ugh… Dick was the worst after a fight.

Jason tended to go MIA after family spats for… two to three weeks, usually. Sometimes longer. He just couldn’t handle everyone walking on eggshells around him. Treating him light a flight case. Or, wanting to talk about it. Nah. Fuck that shit. Dick was probably going to be insufferably happy but… he wanted answers. And he wanted them tonight. With backup.

               RH

               Are you gonna act normal if I ask you for help w something tonight

               NW

               UM>o< Obviously normal. Super normal

Whats up lil wing

Sorry btw

…

Jason ignored the typing bubble, he didn’t want to hear it.

               RH

               Not talking about it rn

               Can you be in Gotham round 7ish

NW

Yeah, everything good?

               RH

               No

               Kinda. Not really

               Not dying

               NW

               Code red?

               RH

               Yellow for now

               But I swear if you freak out on me Im blocking you

               NW

               Hit me

               RH

               Ill fill you in later I just need you to not be an hour away

               NW

               Ok ill be around

He got the text from Babs around 5:30 that the Big Bad Bat had vacated, so he’d left immediately for the cave. As usual the main roads were crazy busy so he mostly took backroads and alleys.

Pulling into the cave so shortly after a fight got some…attention. Duke waved a bit awkwardly and Damian who was on the mat paused to raise a brow in his direction, but Jason just shrugged and walked up behind Tim who was focused at the computer. He was leaning forward like B did when thinking, watching the Happy Harbor video on repeat, seemingly.

“Is it that interesting?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“… I feel like I’m missing something,” Tim admitted, not looking up. “There’s something off about the whole thing.”

“He’s a ghost, obviously there’s something off.”

Tim sighed. “Was there something you needed? I’m assuming it’s not coincidence that you’re here 10 minutes after B leaves.”

“Wow, what a brilliant deduction,” he drawled.

Tim finally looked up, annoyed, and Jason smirked.

“I need to steal the computer for a minute. Move.”

“Why, you hacked into it last night.”

“It’s not really hacking if I have remote access, is it? Besides my setup can’t search at full power. Move, Replacement.”

Tim closed out of the video at the part where the ghost was revealed from the laser. “What do you need?”

“Gimme the chair.”

“Just tell me what you need, I can do it faster.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Cass had come downstairs with Stephanie and began walking over to join them. Cass gave a peace sign, which he returned. 

“I wanna see the notes on Green Danny.”

Tim paused to look up at him again, this time confused. “Why?”

“Wait—” Duke cut in, “who’s Green Danny?”

Steph laughed, leaning against the chair. “Oh my god I forgot you haven’t heard—”

“Not you too—Seriously?” Tim asked, clicking through folders to find the file.

“Guys,” Duke appealed again.

“You know how Ivy backed down on her seed spreader project?” Tim said. “Well, there was a guy who talked her out of it who has the same Green sense. Went by Danny. We’ve been trying to see if we can find him. Which—” he paused again to turn back to Jason, “what happened exactly?”

At this, Damian finally walked over, sword still drawn.

“I realized I actually ran into a Danny the other day and I wanna know if it’s the same guy,” he lied. Well, it was kinda true. He had seen Danny by Crime Alley the other night, but it wasn’t why he wanted to see the file. And he knew it was the same guy but considering their green mystery man also knew Jason had died and come back wrong, but he was keeping that to himself for now. This family was nosy as shit. “He was hanging around the Narrows. I didn’t think about it ‘till I left.”

“…Huh.”

“Uh… guys,” Duke said, looking alarmed. “How many of us have met Danny?”

Everyone but Tim raised their hand.

“Oh my god—wait, I met a Danny the other day!”

At that everyone wheeled on him, Tim and Steph started talking over each other while Damian loudly lectured at him—

“Really, Thomas? Do you not read the case files?”

“Was it the same Danny?! Black hair, kinda scrawny?”

“When was this? Was he in Gotham?”

“It’s important to be thorough in your note keeping.”

“Had a badass vest on, covered in patches?”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Guys—guys!” Jason barked, “shut up and let him talk.”

Duke floundered for a second, overwhelmed, “er, well, okay, yes I read the case files but not all of them—do you know how many cases we have going at a time? And also, okay, so, wait we’re sure it’s the same Danny?”

“Same description,” Cass said. Steph nodded and Damian frowned.

“It still seems too unlikely to happen by chance,” Damian argued.

Tim hummed, “Cass saw him—”

“Do you think he knows our identities? He could be following us.”

“I don’t think so,” Stephanie shook her head. “We would have noticed. And weren’t they all random? When did you meet him Jason?”

Oh fuck. Jason paused, reconsidering. Would we have noticed?

“Jason?”

“Huh? Oh, like last week. He was at one of the street camps.”

“Holy shit—wait, but he was at Happy Harbor!”

“What?” Tim snapped, fully turning around in the chair. “When? You didn’t mention anyone in your report by name.”

“I didn’t think it was important! We were just hanging out at the café before the explosion hit and—”

“Hold on, you were caught in an explosion?” Jason finally cut in, totally lost.

They all had to take a few minutes to coordinate stories, because some-fucking-how they all had a similar experience with the guy? Red streak, vest with patches, all chance encounters—except Jason’s recent one of course. But the first time had been random. It had to be the same guy because Danny admitted to meeting Ivy.

“Okay,” Tim finally said, cracking his knuckles and resuming a typing position, Oracle’s notes up on the screen. “Let’s go over what we know and what we think we know.”

Sort out the facts from the assumptions—that was always the first step in detective work.

“Green Danny knows Ivy,” Cass started.

“Me and Damian met someone named Danny, no last name, who matches Green’s appearance, which is white, blue eyes, shoulder-length black hair, usually wearing a vest with patches,” Stephanie continued.

“I saw someone named Danny with same appearance but large hoodie,” Jason added.

“The Danny I saw,” Duke said, shifting his weight, “was wearing the vest and had a weird ring.”

They all paused.

“Elaborate, Thomas?” Damian finally asked.

“It kind of looked like uranium glass. When I asked about it he changed the subject.”

“…Alright yeah, that’s odd but it’s just a ring,” Jason shrugged. “Rings come off.”

“What else do we know for sure?” Tim asked to refocus them.  

“Enhanced hearing,” Duke said immediately. “He heard the bomb coming, remember?”

“Right.” Tim added that.

“And healing,” Damian said. “You said he was crushed beneath the building but he’s out on the streets a few days later in another city.”

Shit, this is adding up. I’m pretty fast and have a high healing rate.

“Good point,” Tim muttered. “Let’s check hospital records.”

They all watched while he sorted through hospital admissions for the day. Multiple versions of the name were entered for the search: Danny, Daniel, Dan.

NO MATCHES

“Try searching for broken legs,” Duke suggested.

Several came up but sorting through IDs, but none by that name.

“Oh, you know what,” Steph finally said, snapping. “His legal name might not be Danny or anything related—he was wearing a trans flag. Damian you saw that too, right?”

“I’m not familiar with those color-coordinated identities.”

“Mean’s he could have a changed name,” Duke said. “Which makes this search null.”

Jason grunted, checking the time. He had a little under an hour. “Can we pull up pictures?”

“Uhhh—yeah.” Tim altered the search and a list of IDs popped up. They scrolled quickly through them but none, of course, looked familiar. “Okay, what are we missing?” he finally said, sitting back. “It’s standard protocol to get patients’ info after villain attacks for insurance claims and city safety statistics.”

“Well, he definitely broke his legs, guys, I’m telling you. I watched them bury him out, he was in so much pain he could barely register what was going on. I saw them put him in an ambulance.”

“Okay,” Steph cut in, scratching her head, “he has enhanced senses and healing. He’s obviously a meta, then, right? Are there metas on record that can heal that fast? We could search the registry.”

“Technically yes…” Tim said dubiously. “But they’re rare. Invulnerability is more common than instant healing. I only know of two on record and they’re both Atlantean.”

“I… I don’t know then,” Duke said. “What else would explain it?”

They all sat there stumped for a minute before Tim just flagged it for review and they moved on. “This isn’t enough to ID. Especially if all we have is description. I mean, Oracle couldn’t find him from this.”

“She followed up on the biochemistry thing, right?” Steph asked.

“On what?”

 “He mentioned when we were chatting he used to work in a biochem lab. That seemed specific so I passed it on to Babs.”

Tim searched through the file. “Okay yeah… she checked for college alumni, current majors and non-majors, company positions, volunteers, and medical professionals.”

“We need a real name or something more specific,” Damian finally pointed out. “But Thomas’s information does help this case. Marginally.”

“Damn,” Jason huffed. “I’ll see if I can get one of him. If he’s hanging around the Narrows I’ll likely run into him again.” Definitely run into, more like, but you know.

“He might be gone already…” Duke said.

At that, Jason snapped his gaze up. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “He told me he was new to town and looking for work when I ran into him. Then a few days later he shows up in Gotham and tells Ivy the same thing. He could just be nomadic. Those are very generic, vague things to say when you meet someone. Would it be that surprising if he’s already skipped town?”

That made Jason feel queasy, because it was a really good point. He checked the time again. He needed to head out soon. He also had to meet with Dick before all this.

He groaned.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Didn’t sleep well.”

Cass narrowed her eyes. “Hurt?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Promise.”

“We heard you blew up Black Mask’s place last night,” Tim said hesitantly. “Was that a direct result of… what Bruce said?”

Jason glared half-heartedly. This was them trying to ask if he was doing alright.

“If I said no, would you even believe me?” he countered.

“Master Jason,” Alfred said, tone disappointed. They all looked up to see him coming down the stairs from the manor with a towel over his shoulder and carrying a little tray of sandwiches. “Much like you have criticized of Master Bruce, you would do better were you to trust your family a little more than that.”

Jason huffed, crossing his arms but nodding to acknowledge the advice. “Yeah, yeah, alright, Alfie. The answer’s still no, though, gremlin.”

Almost everyone went to go grab a little triangular sandwich. Tim pulled up the ghost video again. Damian went back to the mat. Jason stayed where he was.

I wonder if Green Danny would know this ghost. He said they liked to talk.

But this case wasn’t Jason’s business, and he had been serious when he said he wasn’t interested in League shit. Unless ghost problems came to Gotham, he didn’t give a fuck.

“Have you eaten enough today, young Masters?”

“I’m good,” Jason lied. Cass glared, catching that one outright.

“Fine, fine.”

Tim was already too hyperfocused to notice, so Jason smacked the back of his head to get his attention.

“Ow—what?”

“Get your sandwich, Replacement, or you’ll pass out on patrol again.”

“I didn’t pass out, you ass, I just got light-headed—”

Alfred cleared his throat and they both went to grab theirs.

Jason ate half of it in one bite, clapping Alfred on the shoulder. It was as much of an apology as he could muster in front of everyone else. Then he began walking back to his bike.

“Aight, I’m out. If B asks whether I came by, no I didn’t.” He finished off the tiny sandwich to be able to shove his helmet on. He sent Dick a text where to meet him because he wanted to spy on Danny first to see if he didn’t anything weird at the safehouse. Magic booby traps or somethin’. Jason still wasn’t sure what to think of the guy and his non-poisoned macaroni stunt.

◇◆◇

Dick landed lightly beside him at the coordinates Jason had sent—a rooftop three blocks away, high enough to see. The fact that Jason had heard him at all meant it was purposeful.

“Hey Hood—”

“Shh,” he cut off, “keep your voice down,” he instructed at a whisper.

Dick finally took in the crouched look with binoculars out and mimicked the position, looking to follow Jason’s line of sight.  

“What’s going on?” he said quietly, trying to figure out what Jason was looking at.

Then he saw it. Danny stepped out from the shadows in the alley next to the apartment, looking calm. No dog. Still wearing the big black hoodie. He glanced both ways up the street then approached the door. Jason watched to see how he picked it—because they were always locked. But Danny’s body blocked the view and almost instantly he had the door open.

Jason squinted dubiously. It hadn’t looked like he’d pulled out tools or anything.

“Hood?”

“Shush, one sec,” he said, distracted. The windows were all too dirty to see through at this distance but he knew it took a couple minutes to climb to the top. He’d added some motion sensors into the apartment after the break-in.

Maybe 10 seconds after Danny had entered the building the first one went off—and he snapped the binoculars up to the top floor instead of the second-third floor he’d been looking at—to see Danny walk across the room, look around, and plop onto the couch.

What, had the kid run up the stairs or something? Even for an enhanced individual, why bother? He pulled out his Hood phone, pulling up scanners in the room. Heat signature showed no abnormalities (cold or warm, since ghosts left a cold trace). Jason watched for a few more minutes but Danny didn’t do anything—just pulled out his phone to wait.

Jason tapped his thumb against the concrete, thinking.

Dick patiently waited, obviously trying to figure out what Jason was watching.

“That’s one of your safehouses, isn’t it?”

Danny seemed to be texting. He hadn’t searched the room at all.

“This gonna be a stakeout?”

“No. Listen.” Jason finally lowered the binoculars, feeling nervous already. “First of all, turn your comms off.”

Dick frowned. “What if something comes up?”

“Mine are wired up, but mine don’t automatically record everything for Oracle. I’m serious, I want this on lock.” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Babs, but for now, he didn’t want this getting out to the others. When a storm of detectives gets wind of something, things can pick up too quickly. And for this, he wanted to keep things slow.

He also didn’t trust B not to go snooping through patrol logs, and he was still mad at Bruce.

Dick studied him before slowly nodding, reaching up to remove his comm, flicking it off.

Jason finally sighed. “Okay. So. I have Green Danny in my apartment right now.”

Dick’s eyes widened, he quickly glanced back to the apartments and snatched the binoculars to take a look.

“And if you rat me out,” he continued, “it’ll be the last time I call you first.”

Dick did a double take at that.

“I’m dead serious right now,” Jason growled, “I need backup on this but I will call someone else if I have to. This stays between you and me.”

Dick finally narrowed his eyes. “Why? What happened?”

“…He knows I died, Dick,” he said softly. “Said he’s a medium and he wants to help. I kind of ran him off last time he talked to me.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t… I don’t know what exactly he will do, but he’s an occultist. Summoned a ghost right in front of me, so he’s legit.”

Dick sighed loudly at that, taking in the information. “Geez, Wing… Okay. What’s the plan?”

“I want to know what he knows and how he knows it. But you know…” he paused, grimacing, though his helmet hid as much. “The Pits… in case they react.”

Dick nodded, understanding immediately. “Okay. So, find out as much as we can without either of you getting hurt.” He clapped with a light chuckle. “This should be fun.”

“Pretty much.” He checked his phone. “Welp, I’m officially about three minutes late so let’s go.”

◇◆◇

About a block away from where they were swinging over, Danny noticed the movement and stood just as the two vigilantes landed outside the rusted window. By the time Hood had made his way inside, Nightwing right behind him, Danny was smiling.

He almost looked giddy.

“Danny,” he grunted in acknowledgement, “this is Nightwing.”

“I know,” he said, trying and failing to hold back a grin. “Hi! Nice to, um, meet you.”

He held out a hand and Dick hitched up a bright smile, going immediately for the charming approach. Good, that was fine. If both Hood and Nightwing were in a bad mood, it might be off putting.

“Hey there, likewise.” Dick walked around, and Jason followed so they could sit around the rotting coffee table instead of crowding around the window.

Danny seemed excited but nervous. Dick took a seat but Hood didn’t, crossing his arms.

“Cool. So, thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” Dick said easily. “So, mind catching me up on what’s going on?”

Danny nodded, propping himself on one of the couch ends. “I’m assuming Hood told you some of it,” he started, “but basically I’m kind of a ghost expert. I have a lot of experience with the dead, but not so much the undead. There’s a rare phenomenon where people have properly died and been revived—and it can have a drastic impact on the person.” He paused, checking to make sure he hadn’t lost them. “And I can tell something of that effect has happened to Hood. I’d like to do a health check, basically. Because, I’m not gonna lie, you kinda feel sick.”

Hood wanted to grumble but held it back. For years he had been trying to tell people something was wrong with him. And he was right. No one else who’d been dunked in the Lazarus Pits got the long-lasting rage like he did. Which now had him wondering—what parts of himself were just side effects and which parts were actually him? It was unsettling. He hated this already.

“I see,” Dick said, nodding. “That’s a lot, honestly. Can we get some more specifics? What kind of impact are we talking about? How rare is rare? Is there a standard of measurement for healthy versus unhealthy?”

Danny nodded, rocking a bit as he thought. Like he had a lot on his mind. He also seemed to be glancing between Dick and himself, likely trying to pick something apart from their expressions, but Hood was carefully not reacting and he knew Dick was a master at maintaining a presence of neutrality. All the Bats were.

“Impacts can vary,” he answered immediately, “I’ll be honest, there’s a few different types of undead. Some people’s bodies are revived without their souls, some are magically ‘healed’ in a way but aren’t changed otherwise. And sometimes, your body retains the magical essence you gained in death. Insert, side effects,” he said, spreading his hands.

Dick chuckled, nodding along. “Okay. So, Hood has some retained magic, I take it? Otherwise he wouldn’t feel any different than normal?”

“Yep!”

Great.

“As for rarity,” Danny continued, “that also varies. Obviously coming back from the dead is rare in itself, but let’s say some magician wants to raise a few undead—gross, but not unheard of, and it’s pretty simple to animate dead flesh. But transferring souls, that’s complicated. It either takes someone who knows exactly what they’re doing or some really freak circumstances. There’s a lot of factors, honestly, so I kind of look at these things case by case. And I can’t actually tell what type this could be, yet. The sickness, it’s kind of… muddying up the vibes.” He paused, bouncing a knee like he was nervous.

Dick nodded for him to continue but Danny bit his lip, looking between the two of them.

“Just… deep breaths, yeah?” he said, worried.

Jason wanted to yell at him for hedging but settled for shifting his weight.

“It’s alright, anything you can tell us is more than we already know,” Dick said, much more verbose.

“Basically… it’s like you still have a little bit of your ghost with you.”

“What does that fucking mean?” Jason snapped, unable to hold back any longer.

“Does that mean he’s…” Dick started.

‘Dead’ went unsaid, but Jason already felt nauseous.

“Well… okay, so um. Ish? For context, when normal people die, there’s a chance they turn into a ghost,” Danny said gently, pausing again to assess them both. “All’s a ghost is, is a manifestation of a soul. The soul needs to be housed by something or it will dissipate,” he continued, making a circle with his hands. “A ghost can be that housing, or a living body can be that housing. The two things are usually incompatible—generally it’s one or the other. Sometimes, like ultra rarely, they kind of…merge. It’s not really something that’s well understood, either by magicians or ghosts. Theoretically, it’s impossible, actually, but it’s been documented before. When the housings merge like that, things just get a little mixed up.”

“Fucking Christ—”

“Hood, hey—” Dick turned, worry in his voice. “It’s okay. We’re finally getting answers, right?”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” he growled.

Danny was bouncing his knee again, but stopped when he noticed Hood noticing it.

“It’ll be okay,” Dick said while Hood worked his jaw.

“I know this is a lot,” Danny said carefully. “And sorry, I’m not trying to like, info dump.”

“No, we appreciate the information,” Dick said, turning back. “It’s just…kind of stressful.”

Danny nodded like he understood perfectly. “It’s scary to not know what you are.”

That made both of them pause. Was Danny… something more?

“So… the housings merge,” Dick resumed slowly, and Danny nodded. “What does that mean exactly? Getting mixed up?”

“It means you, as a living human, have some ghostly traits. Kind of—I guess, it’s like they bleed into each other a bit. It’s… a weird phenomenon, like I said. Theoretically—”

“Impossible, yeah, we get it,” Jason huffed, irritated.

Danny smiled nervously, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “So. Back to what we can do about it, yeah? Or do we need a break?”

Jason and Dick shared a long look, before he finally shrugged.

“Let’s keep going,” Dick translated.

“Okay. So, the real thing we need to figure out is what will make you better.”

“What do you think the problem is?” Dick asked, leaning forward.

“Well. I’m not sure, exactly. Remember, case by case?” he paused, studying Hood quietly. Jason couldn’t help but shift under the scrutiny. “How long has this been happening? And, I apologize, but it would be helpful for me to know if it began immediately after you were resurrected or if there was a delayed reaction.”

Jason turned to pace again, letting Dick do the talking.

“Wing?”

“Go ahead,” he said, working on his breathing.

“It’s been about seven years,” Dick said, “and—"

Danny sucked in a breath. “Oh—”

“What?” he snapped, then winced. He felt the Pits now, disturbed, but not overwhelming him… yet.

“That’s just—shit, that’s a long time, I didn’t—” he stuttered, blinking. “Sorry. Um. That was before my accident. I didn’t think it’d been so long.” He rubbed his face, before sighing and straightening. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to derail. Um, and you’ve noticed things were different this entire time?”

“Yeah,” Dick answered for him. “Since he woke up. They used to be worse but it’s gotten somewhat better. Less common, but still just as bad.”

Dick glanced back to him to check that was right and he nodded.

“And what kinds of symptoms do you have?”

“Pit Rage,” Jason said immediately. “Comes in waves.”

Danny looked confused. “Okay, rage, I get that. Not unheard of. Ghosts, and by extension anything related to ghosts, don’t like to think about or talk about their deaths. They also feel emotions more intensely. What do you mean by pit? Like a pit in your stomach kind of feeling? It should be higher than that. Chest, not stomach,” he said, tapping his own.

Jason stalked to the side so he could watch both of them—predictably, Dick look surprised by the observation.

“Whoa, back up, what? How do you know that?”

“Ghost thing. It’s the center of the soul. The core.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair to hide the pure shock—good, he was finally getting to be on the same page Jason was. Which was absolutely floored and baffled. Nothing they’d ever looked into had been this accurate. Not anything from Ra’s al Ghul’s library, not from the JLD, none of their independent research even came close.

“You ever heard of a Lazarus Pit?” Jason said instead, now studying Danny carefully. How he reacted should tell them a lot.

Danny stared blankly. “Ah, nope. Dunno what that is. Isn’t that a guy from like, the Bible or something?”

Jason and Dick exchanged looks once more. Danny was being totally honest right now. Which was actually more confusing than not.

“Um…” Jason started. Where did they start?

“Yes, they’re named after a biblical figure,” Dick said, recovering. “But they’re unrelated as far as we know. Lazarus was someone who, in myth, was raised from the dead. The Lazarus Pits are pools of some unknown substance that have similar effects. It’s used to restore life, usually by curing diseases or restoring someone’s youth.”

“Some unknown substance?” Danny asked, now leaning forward intently. “There’s multiple?”

“There were two that we knew of and a suspected third we were never able to locate,” Dick confirmed. “Only one remains. Magical readings, or, however those work, we have experts for that, confirm the other two disappeared. And we really don’t know what they are, or how they form, only that it’s not found anywhere else and the results are unpredictable.”

Danny looked bothered by that. Deeply bothered.

“What’s wrong?” Jason cut in, feeling antsy all the sudden.

“That’s just… I feel like I would have heard about that, if they could bring someone back to life.”

Jason began pacing again, and Dick sighed slowly.

“So… that’s the thing,” Dick said, and Jason was suddenly very fucking glad he had brought someone else to do the talking for him. “They normally don’t. It’s not what they’re used for at least. But Red Hood… there was some extenuating circumstances. It was done without our knowledge. But he was dipped in the Pits and… brought back.”

They all went quiet for a moment, taking everything in. Jason was kind of surprised they knew stuff Danny didn’t, considering how confident with all of this he seemed.

Danny had a hand covering his mouth, looking totally shaken. “… That should be impossible,” he said bluntly.

“Didn’t you say this should be theoretically impossible though?” Jason challenged. What was so different about this?

“Well, yes, but I mean, it should be impossible for something to reliably be able to do that. Otherwise there would be way more. And there’s not.”

“How do you know that?” Dick asked immediately, jumping on that line of reasoning.

“Because ghosts talk like crazy. And it’s usually pretty obvious when someone stands out like that. Word would have spread.”

“You didn’t know about me,” Jason countered.

Danny didn’t say anything and Jason looked back to see him sitting there, tapping his fingers sheepishly.

“Well—”

“Wait, really?”

“Are you saying this is something other, erm, people—” Dick started.

“Beings is the standard term,” Danny supplied.

“Okay. Other beings can detect in him?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty obvious if you’re familiar with ghosts at all. It has a distinct magical impression. I knew there was um, someone like you, in Gotham, for a while now. I just hadn’t…” he trailed off uncertainly.

Dick leaned forward again, now fully in detective mode. “You went out of your way to contact Hood to help him with this. Is there a reason you haven’t before now?”

Danny chewed his lip, bouncing his knee again—a nervous tick. “Yes. I just didn’t… you know, I didn’t want you to be alarmed or anything. I actually didn’t realize it was this bad or I would have come sooner.”

He looked guilty, Jason noted. And there wasn’t a hint of any lies in his body language or tone.

“The more we know the better prepared we can be,” Nightwing said. “What should we know?”

Danny nodded, looking out the window. It was a terrible view.

“There’s some pretty major problems going on in the ghost world right now. It complicates a lot of things. Makes communication unsafe, amongst other things. It’s hard to keep on top of. I’ve actually been avoiding Gotham because of it. The city’s protected though, I was actually going to ask if you if you ever travelled,” he said, nodding to Hood. “Because, I wouldn’t recommend it right now. Especially not until we take care of your sickness.”

“Why would you avoid coming here if it’s protected?” Dick asked intently.

“I didn’t wanna draw attention by coming here. And I actually didn’t know it was protected until recently. I had to find a way in.”

“And how’d you do that?” Jason prompted, now more curious than upset.

“It was a favor, actually. My trail was hidden.”

Huh. Okay. So apparently there was a bunch of… what, ghost politics going on? That everyone knew about except Jason? Because Jason didn’t even know he was still kind of dead?

Holy shit.

Jason sunk into the chair next to Dick, sitting for the first time.

“Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Danny asked gently.

What do you think? He didn’t snap, though, he made himself hold it back. Without getting the League involved, Danny was their only potential source of magical information at the moment and apparently there was a fuckton going on that concerned him. Jason couldn’t afford to scare him off. But shit, this was a lot.

“Wing?”

“So, to be clear, you’re positive that I’m… what, a ghost? A living ghost?”

Danny offered a small smile. “Ghost-adjacent, I would say. It would take a bit of work to figure out what kind.”

“But I’m dead, still?” he said, his voice tight.

“Um, sort of. Not entirely. You’re alive, Hood. You are. Just… not all the way. Just some side effects. That’s all. No biggie.”

The side effects are me being dead, apparently, was all he could think. He dropped his head into his hands. Strangely though, the Pits weren’t… reacting like normal. Not jumping at the reminder of death, not irrationally angry, not filling him with bitter hate for everything and everyone.

“Alright,” he finally said, sighing. He leaned back a bit, catching Dick’s concerned glance. He subtly shook his head—the Rage wasn’t coming. “Where does this leave us?”

“Well,” Danny said, hopping up to pace thoughtfully. He was tapping his hands rapidly, circling behind the couch. Giving them space. “I’ll probably need to look into these Pits later, but for now, let’s focus on you. You were exposed to this unknown substance and brought back to life. But obviously, your soul was tied strongly enough to your ghost that the transfer was incomplete…”

He was practically talking to himself at this point, thinking aloud.

“Usually a soul transfer requires a lot of energy. It shouldn’t be able to happen passively. So… I’m not sure, I’m missing something there. But,” he paused, looking back up to Jason. “How it happened doesn’t change the fact that it’s affecting you now.” He stood behind the couch, leaning against it as he thought.

Jason shifted again, feeling uncomfortable.

“My best guess at this point, is that your ghost side is starving.”

“What?” Dick said, sitting up and shouting while Jason dropped his head back towards the ceiling. The paint was peeling. There were at least three shades of landlord white under different layers, exposed by rot.

Danny winced. “Sorry, that was callous. I mean—”

“No, give it to us straight,” Dick said, clearing his throat. “Starving or sick?”

“Well, think of how starvation works,” Danny said, pacing again. “You don’t get the energy you need, so your body start’s stealing from other systems, which causes those systems to slow down, yeah? If you have two houses, two bodies so to say, but only one is getting energy—the other part would be starved, and thus sickly. I could be wrong,” he said, raising his hands. “I really could be. But right now I can’t think of anything else. There’s something… off. It feels weird and I don’t know why, I don’t recognize it. But I actually know someone—”

“You do?” Hood said, unable to hold back the desperation in his voice. God, if I can be cured…

“Yeah,” Danny said, smiling tightly. “they’re real good. Reliable. Way more experienced, too. I think if we go talk to him, it would help us figure this out.”

Holy shit.

“Can…” Dick started, surprised like Jason was by the fact they could actually do something about all this. “Can we do that soon? Now, maybe?”

“Well. Maybe not, um, right now… I don’t think it’s a good idea yet—”

“Why not?” Jason bit out. What was the point in delaying?

“Well,” Danny said, voice pitching a bit as he clasped his hands together, “they’re a ghost, of course. And they’re not from this dimension.”

Chapter Text

Danny had honestly expected a bigger reaction. Was that silly of him? Perhaps. But the Bats seemed to have an odd mix of knowledge—basic ghost stuff they seemed to know nothing about but they apparently had extensive experience with some powerful magical source that Danny had never heard of. So. What did he know.

Nightwing simply nodded along. “Okay. Does that make them difficult to contact?”

Danny quirked a brow. “Do you have experience with inter-dimensional communication?”

“Not unheard of in our line of work,” he said, smiling.

Danny could tell at least part of the front-facing attitudes was an act, but it was a damn good one.  

“Huh, didn’t know that,” he mused. Then again, they hadn’t really been shocked the first time around, either. He just assumed his situation was the oddball case. “So, not really, to answer your question, contact isn’t an issue. My concern is actually getting Red Hood there.”

“Couldn’t you just summon them here?” Hood countered immediately.

“I could,” he said, fidgeting “But Frostbite has his own equipment he works with, so if we want a full diagnosis we really should meet him there. I can also let him know when we’re coming so he knows to expect us. Drop-ins have horrible wait times, ya know?” He joked, burying his hands into the hoodie pocket.

“Is the travel the difficulty then?” Nightwing pressed.

“Nah, not particularly. The dimension were going to though—its full of ghosts. The atmosphere, the energy, everything there, has to do with ghosts. If Hood’s ghost side is starving, I’m actually worried about how his body will react to suddenly being infused with that kind of power. I don’t want to send him into shock or something.”

Danny remembered the feeling of when he had first entered a portal after six months of being stuck in a GIW base, the energy which had rushed into his body, sending everything into overdrive. It had felt amazingly good, exhilarating, but for someone completely unfamiliar with portals, who also had never been to the Realms and had an unstable core to boot? He had no idea if that would be too much to handle.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“So… what, then?” Hood said, crossing his arms.

“I’m thinking we should try to acclimate you to some of the magic. Make sure there’s no severe reactions? But honestly, I’m wanna go consult with Frostbite before we do anything.” 

He had already done some research on the ‘human with a core’ thing, going through some of Dora’s old tomes and borrowing some books from Ghost Writer’s library. From what Danny could tell, Hood was either a revenant or potentially, a new half-ghost. Revenants were basically beings who have been imperfectly revived, slowly dying as their soul returned to their core over time. They had to be maintained, usually by the magician who revived them, but it sounded like Hood had just the one run-in with this stuff a long time ago. A halfa though? They were self-sustaining. A halfa with low power, running on empty? That would explain the duress.

Only thing was… a new half-ghost in the picture raised more questions. Every halfa ever to form occurred under different circumstances. But each of them had been self-sustaining from the get-go. Even Ellie had been able to transform and use her powers, despite her instability. If Hood was a halfa, he broke that pattern. Which either meant he wasn’t a halfa, or there was something new going on. If he was a revenant, the magic used to revive him would have needed to be strong. But even then, the way he was losing ectoplasm right now—that would not be sustainable for seven years. He would have died before now.

It made him feel queasy. This situation was a lot more precarious than he’d been assuming.

“Anything we should know about this Frostbite ghost? Is he benevolent? Does he require payment?” Nightwing continued. It sounded like he had dealt with magical contracts before, which was interesting.

“No payment, and yes, very—he’s a doctor and a respected Chief. And a good friend, he helped me sort out my side effects when things started getting weird for me, so he has some experience with living people too.”

“Your side effects?” Nightwing asked more sharply.

Danny looked to Hood.

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Oh. I appreciate that, actually,” Danny said, propping a foot up on the couch. “So, I’ve actually died before. Messed me up, had some weird stuff happening for a while before I got it sorted. Frostbite actually found me and helped me through it.”

Nightwing’s eyes narrowed. “Are you from another dimension? Originally?”

“No,” Danny said with a small grin. “But I have travelled to a few others. A lot of ghost problems can’t be dealt with here, not entirely. I do a lot of negotiations.”

It felt like riding a fine line, being this honest without admitting the whole truth. But if he started with all his own stuff, they’d absolutely switch to questioning him on everything and they were both already on edge. He didn’t want to overwhelm them.

“I see. So how long do you think this will take?”

“No idea,” he said honestly. “Unfortunately. I can go talk to Frostbite this week, and assuming nothing’s wrong we can start Hood’s uh… I’m gonna call it medicine? See how it takes. If things go really bad I can summon him but I don’t anticipate that. Frostbite will let me know if it’s a really terrible plan on my part. Then, it’s a matter of how long it takes Hood to start feeling better, or at least stable enough to travel. It’s tricky because we can’t solve the problem if we don’t know what’s wrong, but we also can’t figure out what’s wrong without maybe starting another problem, you know?”

Nightwing nodded. “I understand. I appreciate your caution. We may also need to consult with people on our end before engaging with that.”

“What?” Hood shouted, which Danny couldn’t help but startle at.

Danny felt the edges of betrayal seeping from Hood’s ectoplasm—he glanced between the two uncertainly.

“What…?” Nightwing said, sounding genuinely confused.

“I was very fucking clear that we’re keeping this between us,” Hood hissed.

Nightwing stared.

Hood stared back.

“I thought… well, for talking to Danny yeah, but you don’t think we should tell anyone if we start travelling to a different dimension? Z could probably give us some pointers.”

“She didn’t know shit about this when we first asked and she’s not gonna know anything more about it now. And if we tell the JLD, we gotta tell Batman.”

Danny blinked. Batman didn’t know? He had been assuming if they hadn’t told Bruce already, they were going to shortly after. Didn’t Dr. Isley say Red Hood and Batman’s feud had been resolved?

Had it not?

“Wing… This is a lot. And if we can actually get you help? Real help?”

“He’s gonna make it weird and you know it. You know how he gets about this stuff.”

“But… This is bigger than we thought. It’s affecting other people, even outside Gotham. B would want to know.”

“I don’t give a fuck what B would want, he wants to know everything. But this is about me. So if you’re gonna narc, then get out. This isn’t up for debate.”

Danny was stunned.

A few minutes of tense silence passed where neither said anything.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing finally said, shoulders dropping tiredly, “Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

“Damn right we are. Swear it—No reports. No sharing. Not ‘till this is over.”

“No sharing,” he agreed. “Promise.”

Okay. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t mentioned the code. Because as much as Danny wanted that, if Red Hood didn’t want him involved, Danny was going to respect that.

This was a matter of Hood’s death—which automatically made everyone else’s opinions secondary. Going to Bruce about Hood’s condition would be a severe breach of trust. He could put up with missing Bruce a little bit longer if it meant Hood felt safe and supported. Ultimately all he wanted was for the Bats to be okay—they were like a family to him, in a weird, abstract sort of way (sure it was one-sided and maybe a bit juvenile—Danny still felt embarrassed about it—but it didn’t change how he felt). So even if they had no idea who he was, that was Danny’s priority. His feelings could wait. Right now above anything else, he needed to get Hood some help.

As I should have done years ago, he thought shamefully. Guilt wriggled around uncomfortably in his stomach. While, logically, he knew that it would have been difficult or even dangerous to come to Gotham before now, before finding a safe way to throw off the GIW,  he still felt terrible knowing Hood had actually been suffering this entire time.

He’d even been hoping that Hood wasn’t sick at all in this timeline.

Hopefully getting some medicine and clear answers would help with all the turmoil. 

“Sorry, Danny,” Nightwing said, hitching up a poster-worthy smile, purposefully tinged with embarrassment. “Don’t mind us.”

“No worries,” he said, smiling. “I get it. Big decisions, big feelings.”

“Lord help me,” Hood muttered, pushing up. “So, do you have a normal way to get in touch with people or do you always drop by when someone’s not home?”

Danny blushed a bit. “Sorry about that. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” It was the closest safehouse to Hood’s ghostly territory, and thus the place a majority of ghosts pointed him to. “But um, yeah, I can give you my number?”

“That works. And if we need to find you?”

“That’s harder,” he admitted, “but if you call me I can show up pretty quick. Um, do either of you have some paper?”

“Just tell us, we can remember it.”

He recited it.

“You got a last name, Danny?”

He couldn’t help but smirk. He was 110% sure they were gonna do a background check.

“Nightingale.”

Hood nodded.

“Thank you, again, I know I’ve said that already,” Nightwing said, standing. He reached a hand out. “We’ve been looking for answers on this for a while.”

“I bet. But yeah no worries—happy to help.”

◇◆◇

Danny had an undeniable bounce to his step, leaving the run-down apartment after his meeting with Red Hood and Nightwing. Sure, not all the news had been fantastic, and he hadn’t been able to get to everything he wanted to discuss, but overall it went much better than his first attempt.

It wasn’t that late by night-time vigilante standards—pushing 9pm, perfect timing since the Bats claimed to need to go patrolling. Danny had never patrolled when he was a hero, problems usually found him. But he was more doubtful they’d go out at all, considering the emotional impact of discussing Hood’s death in so much detail.

Although, while it was certainly a lot, Danny thinks it went about as well as it could have. No panic attacks, no ‘Pit Rage’ attack like Hood had described. Only a minimal existential breakdown, which was to be expected. Danny had spent years becoming comfortable with his deathly status. Once they figured things out, hopefully Hood would start to feel more comfortable too.

They covered the important stuff—the ghost connections, the risk of travelling, exploring options for medicine, and most importantly—his foot was in the door with the Bats and communication firmly established. Now if anything came up, he could step in without it being suspicious.  

With nothing else that was pressing, Danny was now taking a casual walk through Robinson Park, idly headed in the direction of the graveyard he’d found during his tour. It was out of the way at the far end of the Park at the corner of the green patch and bunch of mostly empty buildings. There was an entrance from the Park itself an another from the street-side, which was only sparsely occupied with run-down shops.

No one hung out in graveyards at night, especially not in a city like this, so Danny had informally made it his home base until he got an actual apartment. Not only somewhere to get away from humans of course, but even from hostile ghosts—graveyards were sacred ground. Fighting wasn’t allowed there so it was a safe space to decompress.

Tomorrow was his first day of work, but he didn’t come in until 11. Danny was looking forward to it, honestly. Something mundane and simple and productive that wasn’t pertaining to literal matters of life and death. And it was really driving home the feeling of I’m here now and I’m not running away that he was still mentally grappling with.

The air was cool and the smooth-paved cement path turned to cobblestone as he neared the cemetery, new giving way to old, settled stones. There was a lone streetlamp near the entrance but it was broken, leaving the area comfortingly dark. There were short stone walls along the perimeter topped with spiked iron fence. Danny knew from previous visits that the front gate creaked harshly when opened, and technically he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be here after sundown, so he simply phased through the bars, immediately relaxing to the calming ectoplasm.

There were only a couple resident ghosts here. One Danny didn’t see but the other popped into existence as he walked by.

“Hi Quill,” he said, nodding to the man hovering above a weathered grave which read ‘George Simon Clementine,’ caked with dirt and moss. It was rude though to call a ghost by a name other than their preferred one. A practice Danny was very thankful for, because it meant not a single ghost had ever deadnamed him, even by accident. Which was supremely ironic, all things considered.

When they first met Danny had asked whether Quill wanted his grave cleaned or not, but the ghost said the grime added character.

“Phantom!” He bellowed, grinning widely. He was wearing brown trousers, a plain white shirt, and suspenders. His skin was green and he had a comically large blue mustache curved to perfect points. As usual, he was scribbling on a messy pile of parchment with a flamboyantly feathered quill, using his headstone as a desk. “Back so soon?”

“Just for a bit,” he laughed. “It’s an errands kind of day.”

“I certainly do not miss those, lad. Now where was I…” He went back to his notes, one pile slipping off to land in the dirt.

It wasn’t a hard rule, but typically ghosts that haunted cemeteries were ones that had close attachments to their graves. Usually something they’d been buried with or those who had no living relatives by the time they died. Quill had told him about the unpublished copy of his first book that had been left with his body by his daughter back in the 1930s. He’d been working on finishing it for nearly a hundred years now, but Danny had noticed the first time they met that when he finished a page, he simply discarded it and it melted into ambient ectoplasm before he started on the next. It would have been really sad if Danny didn’t know that it was the process of writing which he really enjoyed, moreso than caring about the final product.

A couple blob ghosts appeared to follow him down the worn paths, partially overrun by grass and the occasional mushroom. This was the oldest graveyard in Gotham according to Quill, so it didn’t get as much foot traffic as others did. Hence, the lack of upkeep.

Finding the large gnarled tree towards the back, Danny plopped down with a sigh, letting his shoulders fully relax. Both blobs swarmed him, nuzzling against him for attention.

“Hi there. Yes, you’re very cute. Place feels wonderful, you did a very good job.”

The ectoplasm here was fresh compared to the rest of the city. Negative emotions didn’t accrue here like they did in normal haunts and any nearby were quickly gobbled up by proximity. They squealed at his praise, settling by his legs for a pseudo-nap. Blobs sometimes went into a sort of hibernation when they were filtering out ecto-gunk.

He’d been keeping himself busy all day, preparing for his meeting with Hood. Now that the hard part was done and Danny was properly sitting down, he really didn’t want to get up. He should portal over to the Realms to get some work done before his shift. Hood deserved that. He deserved Danny doing everything he could to help, now that he was here.

But he was tired and comfortable and the ectoplasm made him feel sleepy. When he’d been on the run, he didn’t often stop by graveyards. Ghosts would never desecrate graves but he didn’t dare assume the GIW would show the same respect. Danny didn’t want trouble following him to a resting place, of all things.

He phased his Foley phone out of his arm, opening up the big group chat. There was only a one hour time difference from here to Chicago.

               Phanny pack

               Mission dont-get-shot-by-the-red-hood is off to a good start

Undergoth

Nice

Tuckerbell

Oh? Finally reached out?

               Phanny pack

               Ya and got to meet Nightwing again. Which was awesome

Jazz hands

Proud of you! I know you were really anxious about it

Tuckerbell

How much did you actually tell them

               Phanny pack

               Not everything obviously. Focused on hoods health and getting him to see frostbite. His ecto is so fucked ive never seen anything like it

Undergoth

Not ever?

Tuckerbell

Youve fought some pretty gnarly ghosts dude

               Phanny pack

               No never

Tuckerbell

Thats wild

Undergoth

Its not cuz you know, hes all avenging angel or anything is it?

               Phanny pack

               Nah thats just normal ghost shit. This is way way worse. I dont think its anything hes doing or not doing. Im gonna go do some research on curses next, i think. Thats a type of magic i dont know anything about, so it could be why i dont recognize it. If anyone can figure it out though, itll be frostbite

Undergoth

Who tf would curse him

               Phanny pack

               Idk

Tuckerbell

When you going to bring him

               Phanny pack

               Idk that either. Tbh hes so sick im like, worried about using a portal. Im gonna bring him some fresh ecto and see how he reacts. A sample would help but hes so low i disnt wanna take any of his

Tuckerbell

Thats fair

Jazz hands

Maybe you could ask Lady Gotham?

               Phanny pack

               I could i guess, but she seemed pretty indifferent to the ghosts in her haunt

Tuckerbell

Hood is different though

               Phanny pack

               True. I could ask. Ugh theres so many errands to run

Undergoth

Fun times being king huh

               Phanny pack

               No:( I mean like yes glad I can help, but ancients theres so much shit to deal with. Apparently theres magic pools some fuckin where that can resurrect ppl? So I gotta go track that down

Jazz hands

In the US?

               Phanny pack

               Actually I forgot to ask. Was kinda busy panicking

Tuckerbell

Do you think its the GIW?

               Phanny pack

               I dont think so. These seem like theyve been around a long time, the GIW only got access to ecto technology like 5 yrs ago

               And if they could revive ppl im sure they would have weaponized it by now

Undergoth

Hm

Tuckerbell

Hm

Weird

               Phanny pack

               Right

Jazz hands

Be careful when you leave Gotham

               Phanny pack

               Ikik

Jazz hands

Where are you sleeping tonight?

               Phanny pack

               Thats classified

Jazz hands

Danny

               Phanny pack

               Cemetary. Comfy. Friendly ghosts, no ppl

Jazz hands

Danny

               Phanny pack

               Its fiiine promise

               Gotham is not as bad as youre thinking. At least not for me

Jazz hands

Alright… Ancients I cant wait for you to get an apartment

               Phanny pack

               Same ig. Seems scary tho

Undergoth

Its not. Its awesome. Life changes once you got your own place

Tuckerbell

Dont have to dodge anyone

               Phanny pack

               You forget my constituents can and will move thru walls to bother me

Undergoth

Order them not to

               Phanny pack

               Probs a good idea

Tuckerbell

Dont have to dodge cops then

               Phanny pack

               Fair. ACAB

Tuckerbell

ACAB

Jazz sent a thumbs up emoji while Sam sent 8 flames emojis. He snorted.

               Phanny pack

               Okie im sleeping now. Night

Jazz hands

Love you!!

He replied with a heart and quietly clicked off, shoving the phone back through his bicep. Ancients, he was tired. It was going to take a lot of work to get things settled out with the Bats, but he couldn’t help but smile at the prospect anyways. Things were finally going right for once.

◇◆◇

Bruce was staring at the sample vial. It was all gone now, "evaporated" as Constantine put it, even though the lid had not been removed since. In its place was an inconspicuous pile of dirt and small rocks. The seal was intact but none of his sensors could pick up on anything. Frustrating, but at least it was a sliver of confirmation on that line of evidence.

It was nearly five in the morning—all his children were back from patrol and presumably resting. Alfred would be awake in an hour to scold Bruce for not going to bed. Batman however, had been restless. He’d been, somewhat unsuccessfully, trying to avoid thinking about his latest argument with Jason. It was hard not to think about, to ruminate on everything that had been said, what led up to it, the endless back and forth they’d gone through, the wrongdoings and hurtful words thrown like weapons from either side.

Jason had screamed at him about compromise. But how was he supposed to compromise when it came to morality? Then there were the logistical complications. Jason’s communication was wildly inconsistent. Continuously having to catch him up on major cases was not an effective approach to teamwork. Not working with them for patrols meant some areas were not monitored as heavily, while others were overly-monitored. Crime Alley, while it was the area with highest crime, did not always require that undivided attention. He didn’t even want the Bats to enter his territory, even to get to an emergency faster. It was inefficient and a little selfish.

Part of him wondered if he could simply understand why Jason was so aggressively over-protective, maybe they could address it. If it was a matter of crime rates, more vigilantes in the area should be better, not worse. If it was a matter of dangerous people, then he wouldn’t work with so many criminals. If it was a matter of needing resources, he should be more willing to accept help.

But he doesn’t do any of those things. 

And no matter what Bruce said, it always ended up being the wrong thing.

He shook his head, re-focusing on the non-evidence in front of him. He’d been stewing on the fight all day. So instead of sinking further into that hole, Batman was choosing to fixate on the most unsolvable of his current cases.

No potential leads on the Unknown yielded anything of value. Despite knowing how unlikely it was, he’d run facial recognition from a League sketch artist. Thousands of partial matches came up but the list was long and nothing stood out, no flags for potential threats or persons of interest in their databases. Appearance wise it was hard to narrow things down without indictors like skin or eye color. The best they could determine was the ghost was of European descent.

He’d studied the fighting style, an excellent suggestion of Nightwing’s—but it didn’t fully match any martial arts style Batman was familiar with. Which meant it was likely a mix of multiple styles or something unique to ghosts. With no reference for how old the ghost was, it was also entirely possible it derived from an ancient civilization. With little else to do, he’d begun researching private weapons manufacturers and searching black market sites for blueprints and weapons in attempt to find hints on the white ship. They’d used something similar to laser technology, but it was so advanced nothing even held a light to the capabilities displayed during the fight. The magical component was still entirely elusive.

A golden light appeared behind him. Batman didn't turn but it reflected oddly off the normal dark walls. Constantine wasn’t a devil (even if he was known to spend time with some) and Batman didn't prescribe to any old sayings only built on coincidence... But the timing was remarkable.

"Constantine" he said, finally turning. He raised a brow at the man’s state—he looked like he hadn't slept in a week and currently wasn't even paying attention to Batman. Instead he was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself.

The premature feeling of disappointment began to sour in Batman’s gut (even though he didn't like to make conclusions before knowing the facts). But this didn’t look promising.

"Constantine" he said more firmly.

The man stopped, looking frazzled. “Someone’s playing a bloody trick on me,” he muttered, then went back to pacing.

Batman watched him for three more seconds. “Give me a report, Constantine. Or if you’re unable to, go sleep first.”

He threw him an irritated look. “Fuck you, Bats,” he sighed, crashing into the computer chair dramatically. He tapped his foot, visibly trying to focus, but then got up again to pace.

Batman sighed.

“Let’s start with what you know, John.” Sometimes a gentler approach worked best, though Batman didn’t particularly like coddling his colleagues.

“I know someone’s playing a gods-damned trick on me! And it’s not funny!”

"...I take it your contacts didn't have anything helpful to offer?”

"Not a one! I got the same answer from each and every one of them. Pricks.” He scowled again, running a hand through his hair. It looked greasier than normal.

“Which was…?” Here they go with the prompting again. It was enough to make him wish he’d gone to bed earlier.

“Only time will tell,” he spit out, his tone mocking.

Batman digested that. It was rather cryptic. And a tad foreboding.

“Bloody smug about it too! Bunch of stuck-up, sleazy arseholes! I’ve known some of these beings for decades and they wouldn’t give me a hint of anything real. Evaded every single question. Won’t tell me jack about whatever’s going on in the Realms right now. It’s like someone put up a giant curtain and walked off.”

"Walk me through what information you have. Maybe if we review it, we'll find something you missed,” he suggested, maintaining the gentle approach. Constantine looked like Bruce did when he pulled several all-nighters, but was handling it considerably worse. But Batman wanted to know what John had been up to the past week. Leaving in a flash of light and gone without any way to make contact had left him grasping at straws.

“Can I please have a smoke—”

“No.”

“What if we leave the cave?”

Batman wanted to grind his teeth, but refrained. “Is it that dire?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, pulling up his cowl. “Fine. In the car.”

“Fuck that,” he muttered, and Batman glanced over in confusion before a portal opened underneath the pair of them. His center of gravity was shifted badly and in less than a second, they were both standing outside. It was still dark, gray really, with the barest hints of a smog-filtered sunrise beginning to appear.

He bit back a curse but did glare to see Constantine already lighting a cigarette. “I’ve told you not to do that.”

“Emergency, sorry,” he apologized, not looking particularly sorry. “Brought you somewhere familiar though, I know how anal you are about locations and proximity.”

He looked to see they were at the top of Wayne Enterprise’s headquarters—a location that had accidentally become an informal meetup spot for top League members. He sighed, trying to let go of some of his irritation and reminding himself that sleep exhaustion was akin to drunkenness at this stage. Maybe he should have insisted John take a nap first.

The blonde had gotten plenty of time to get some nicotine into his system, so he refocused.

“Alright. Report.”

He flicked the recording piece imbedded in his suit on.

He started pacing again, his gait more causal. “Okay. So, that ghost essence we found, that was some potent stuff, Bats. Like, I’m talking the oldest of old magic. Older than gods. Which doesn’t line up with what we saw, right? That’s a problem.”

“One moment,” Batman said, frowning. “Doesn’t line up how?”

“The Happy Harbor ghost had no markers of an old ghost. It was too recognizable. Modern. And the magic was obscured by something, which could mean a few different things.”

He nodded, now following, and crossed his arms.

“Maybe the ghost was being controlled by something, or was a messenger. That doesn’t bode well you see—if something powerful is sending messages to our world. Or the ghost was hiding itself, blending in, but that would imply they’ve been here a while. Why? Why hide? What does it have to gain? If there’s a feud, why not contact the beings of this realm who could actually do something? AKA us? Or if it wants something from us, why not go after it? Why help our people, why help living people, if that’s the case? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I see.” He frowned, trying to consider everything. “Are you certain you’re not making any generalizations? Any assumptions we shouldn’t be?”

“Like what?”

“You’re assuming the ghost is driven by selfish reasons, for one,” he said, remembering Spoiler’s and Red Robin’s conjectures.

“Ghosts are pretty selfish, mate. Even the good ones. They’re not like us—they have to make their own will to exist, they don’t simply have the primal urge to survive like we do. They have to craft one and feed it, mold it, or they cease to exist.”

He frowned now. “You’re saying no ghost would ever be naturally inclined to help others?”

“No, I’m not saying like, they’re all arseholes. But ultimately they are driven by one thing, and that’s self-fulfillment. It’s an Obsession. Sometimes that obsession manifests in benevolent ways, but it’s not rooted in simple altruism.”

There was that word again. Obsession. He hummed, not entirely convinced by that reasoning. Batman, and even Bruce, were motivated largely by the need to be useful, to help others. Does the mutual benefit of the intent negate the positive effects it produces? He’d like to think not. Getting something out of an exchange doesn’t mean it couldn’t be a good thing. That didn’t sound selfish. But he could also be biased to think that, he supposed.

“Alright,” he said rather than contesting it. “And who did you go to for your investigation?”

“Everyone I could bloody think of.”

“Give me some details, Constantine.”

He sighed, taking a long drag. “Several ghosts and shades, a few elder ones. More powerful folk. Some of the Earth-born that have a stake in what happens to our planet. And I found some younger ghosts from our era. A good spread, yeah? And still,” he hissed, “got the same answer, every time!” He crumbled the cigarette bud, pulling out a second.

“Hn.” So a wide variety of ghosts had the same answer to a new inquiry. There had to be a common denominator.

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” he groused, clenching his fists briefly. “Someone has been making some big moves, and we weren't even aware the game had started. Ticks me off, I don't like being left out like that.”

“Let’s back up a moment,” Batman said, rubbing his chin as he turned to the skyline. “Were all these sources from the same place?”

“From the Infinite Realms, yeah.”

“Is that a literal term?” That had been unclear from his notes.

“You mean the infinite part? Yeah, mate, its endless. It’s also the focus of magical energy between dimensions.”

He turned, raising a brow, though it wouldn’t be obvious with the cowl. “Does that mean the magic there is different? Is it a marker in the essence?”

“The magic is more raw, there, I guess you could say. And there’s some things here that wouldn’t work here without conducting power from the Realms. It’s what connects the planes of existence together. Without it, we’d be disconnected from everything.”

He hummed again, working his jaw. “How is that connected to ghosts, then? It was my understanding that ghosts are the result of necromantic magic. They’re just the souls of dead people, correct?” He had heard some contradictory information on this point before, and it may be relevant. His understanding were that ghosts were a product of magic, not a source.

"Mate, ghosts can be dead anthing.” Constantine wavered his hand in a so-so manner. “And necromancy is the manipulation of the dead and their souls, not the creation of them. Ghosts just happen, they’re as natural as you or I.”

He frowned again. “How do you mean anything?”

“Not just people, Bats. Anything from a material plane. Which—well, that’s really going to be a vast majority of your planes…” he trailed off, muttering to himself.

Batman leaned against the edge of the rooftop, feeling tension build behind his eyes. Here they go again. He did not want to be spending his morning learning about magical quantum theory, or whatever this was considered, but the world tended to disregard his feelings on matters like these.

“Run me through the basics,” he finally said. “Basics. What exactly qualifies as a material plane?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and began to pace again. “I thought you wanted to know how my investigation went?”

“I do. But if we’re going to figure out what’s missing here, I need to understand the context. Keep it simple, but explain to me what exactly we’re dealing with.”

“Okay. Material planes.” He flicked some ash. “Anything that's not a higher plane. So—,” he held up a finger before Batman could finish his protest. “Think of it like this: We're all little fish, kay? We do our own things, mucking about with our material surroundings and whatnot but we have no control over reality, not without borrowing from higher powers. We're like, the guppies in an ocean. Baby fish. Nemos. Higher planes are the big fish.” He expanded his arms to the side for emphasis. “They could eat us, they could control us, they could fuck up our lives, fuck up our dimension, really, if there were no restraints—but there are rules. The divines, the hells, the fae, the monstrous, the abstract, dimensions without any form, dimensions of pure energy—all of those are in the making. Think like, the pantheons, gods, or random energy that managed to consolidate into a form, or nebulous energy that hasn’t consolidated yet. They change with the whim of those that live there or are completely non-predictable. The higher planes are either molded by intent or molded by chaos."

"Entropy, essentially," Batman summarized.

"Sure, if you wanna use a fancy science word for it. Entropy."

Batman didn't bother to explain that according to well established research, what he was describing was the entropy, by definition. The ordering and disordering of randomness. But magic-users tended to think their subject was too unknowable to be studied by normal human methods.

“And then there's us,” Constantine continued, “Little fish. The playgrounds for the godly.”

That didn’t paint a favorable picture, on the whole.

“You mentioned rules? Are those, for example, laws of physics? Laws of nature?”

“The Lords of Order and Chaos actually dictate the rules of the higher planes, so you know, Dr. Fate, Klarion. They just mess with us from time to time but they’re supposed to work it out between themselves.”

That was… infuriating, but succinct.

“Alright,” he ground out. “So the Infinite Realms are—what—referring to those non-material planes?” That would mean an Infinite Realms being just meant inter-dimensional being, which was much simpler to digest, conceptually. Familiar territory at least.

“No.”

Batman frowned.

“Good guess, but no. We’re the guppies, the higher planes are bigger fish. But the Infinite Realms are the fucking ocean, mate. The ocean and everything in it that’s not us.”

Okay, his understanding was beginning to fall apart. “Everything in it? Does that not just include—the fish?”

God he hated this. There should be terms for these things.

 “The Realms are—they’re everything in between the material and higher planes. It’s not ehh—exactly a dimension in itself. It’s the leftover bits that holds it all together, connecting the planes. The Realms are technically the only reason dimensional travel or time travel is possible at all, actually, which has led to some very interesting theories—”

Batman cleared his throat.

“Right. So yeah, the stuff in between the planes, if that answers your question. The higher planes aren’t literally higher than us either, by the way, we don’t actually have an understanding of the magical topography on that scale, although I’ve always imagined them kind of like pancakes, you know? Planes and all, like them being flat,” he stacked his hands on top one another and mimed a squeezing motion, “but they could just as easily be circular or branching, like those cones that black holes form, the type people think could be leading to wormholes and other shite.” He waved his hands flippantly, “We don’t know.”

So he did know some physics, then. Batman was mildly impressed.

“It never maintains a permanent form like other dimensions do,” he continued rambling of course now that he was on a subject, but since this was actually pertinent Batman didn’t stop him.

“It’s hard to explain. It's everywhere, it's all the time, it's everything that connects us to the past or future, space and reality, it's the binding of the multidimensional universe. It's massive, like, of course, it’s infinite because of this, it just gets squished sometimes. Some mages speculate that it's even alive. Like, the highest of gods in a way, in the way the brain is the god of our body—conscious, growing, recycling, but not necessarily in control, if that makes sense? The ocean doesn’t know it’s an ocean, it’s just there. I need better metaphors, I think.” He finally stopped, scratching his head, and finally waved to dismiss it.

What he needed was science, but Constantine would never admit that. There's a reason that the solution to discovery was patience and methodology. One cannot describe anything without first having the language and the tools to actually distinguish it from anything else. Considering names and words were magical bindings in their field, it surprised Batman that most magic-users didn't acknowledge this. Things weren't just labels. Words are how we perceive and define our existence, so essentially, they make up everything. Words are constructions which hold and structure knowledge.

Batman somehow felt like he was stumbling back to the origins of ‘knowledge is power’ but decided to postpone that train of thought until it wasn’t 5:30 and he was on a rooftop with a sleep-deprived necromancer, pushing on two days of no sleep and 6 active cases.

“So,” he said, finishing the second cigarette and looking much calmer. “It’s not like we have a map or anything, and we don’t know the orientation of the planes or whatever, but we know they’re all connected, to different degrees, by the Infinite Realms. And with infinite potential planes, you get—”

“Infinite space,” Batman concluded.

“Precisely. And infinite power.”

Batman hummed, taking in the new information, and finding a way to organize it within his own understanding of the universe. It wasn’t like he had a notebook to refer to this time, although he’d be going over this recording very thoroughly later.

Something stood out to him out of all of this.

“So the Realms are, simply put, a sort of ecosystem.”

“Sure, yeah. That sounds about right.” He lit a third cigarette.

“So the ghosts, or beings of these Realms—they are not the ocean, so what are they? I don’t see how they’re different from the regular fish.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.” He took a long drag. “We can only be little fish, basically. Higher planes beings, gods and such, are only ever big fish. But the Realms beings are anything above, below, or in between. They can be small fry like you and me, lesser ghosts are just that—lesser. They’re weak and only do basic things. Deadman is actually pretty low in the pecking order. There’s a reason he hangs out with us little fish.” He blew smoke skyward. “But they can also be bigger than us, and even bigger than the gods. Like, some of the biggest fish are exclusively from the Realms, yeah? Tuna fish. Or like, great whites maybe, ooh—” he snapped his fingers, “fish dinosaurs—”

"Ichthyosaurs" there's only so much of a bad metaphor he could handle in one sitting, after all.

“Yeah, whatever,” Constantine waved. “Basically we’re somewhat limited in the upper end of power levels, same as the higher planes, while they are unlimited. Infinite.”

“Upper end. So they grow?”

“Oh yeah, with time or influence. Elder ghosts are generally more powerful than younger ones, et cetera. Although the term elder really just means more powerful, its not exclusive to the age of the being. That’s another thing. We and the higher planes are either stagnant, meaning our power doesn’t grow naturally, or if we do, we exhibit linear growth. They don’t. They can jump between power levels depending on a lot of things, like how prevalent their obsession is, how often they can feed it, or the scope of their haunt. It’s not nearly as stable as our existence is.”

Batman rubbed his jaw, thinking that over. That comparison was actually both helpful and fascinating, but he needed to focus. “And you’ve said ghosts come from material planes,” he began slowly.

"Oh," Constantine looked surprised he had forgotten the original question. Batman would be insulted if he didn't know Constantine better, but he did, so he wasn’t.

"Right so, yeah. Humans, from this dimension and others, animals, plants, aliens, anything goes."

“But not higher planes?”

“Nope. The transfer of energy doesn’t hold up well.”

“…And ghosts reside in the Infinite Realms.”

He snorted. “I think I’ve said that already, a few times in fact—"

“So there is a transfer of power from here to the Infinite Realms, which cannot be achieved by other planes?”

Constantine made an appraising face. “I guess so, yeah. Though there’s more material planes than higher planes by a longshot. I hadn’t ever thought about it like that before. But it’s not really a concern in terms of threats, in most cases. Just like there’s rules here and rules in the higher planes, there’s rules there too. You should love that, you love rules.”

Batman ignored the jibe.

“My concern is the implication that beings from our dimension can potentially gain near-infinite power and then come do whatever they like.” His first thought was that criminals or villains which died would suddenly have a feasibly attainable access to power, if they wanted revenge. “How are they controlled? What determines the rules?”

At this, Constantine blew air out, running a hand through his hair as he stubbed out the third cigarette, tucking the bud in a pocket. “What governs the Realms is higher than either our pay grades, Batsy.”

Batman glared. “How are we meant to understand why the Unknown was here long enough to be targeted by humans if we don’t understand what affects the interactions between our dimensions?”

“Well—okay.” Constantine sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “There’s the Lords that govern the higher planes, yeah? There’s similar beings that govern the Infinite Realms. We do not mess with them, under any circumstances, ever.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Are you pulling my leg? They’re—they’re more powerful than any gods we know of.” He frantically ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t—know that much about them, exactly, but we know they don’t care about little fish. Just think about it. The scale. We’re so inconsequential to them, I—They’re your ichthyosaurs, okay? Beyond comprehension, way more massive than we can handle. They govern the fundamental aspects of the universe, of all dimensions.  They govern reality, matter. Growth, Space, Song, Time. We don’t even know how many there are. They're sometimes called the Ancients of Power, or Ancients of the Cosmos. We know jack shit about ‘em. They’re basically gods, but worse. I know you don't like mysteries you can't solve, but seriously, you're not gonna run into an Ancient unless they want it to happen. So we don’t need to worry about them.”

Batman didn't like where the logic was taking him. "And, what if, by chance, such an all-powerful being wanted to come to the playground, as you put it?"

"Hm? Ohhh—no, no, there's no way. The Unknown couldn't be an Ancient. Nothing could have stood in its way. It would never have been hurt. It’d be untouchable. No, it's just a powerful ghost, trust me on that one.”

“You said the magic was older than some gods,” Batman reminded him. “What if it was Ancient magic?”

Constantine hissed. “You don’t even know what that means.”

“Neither do you.”

They were at a standoff, where Batman wanted to demand answers and Constantine wanted to demand they didn’t ask questions. He often was criticized for pushing at things outside his ‘business’, but then again, Batman had been forced to use too many contingency plans he’d hoped to never need.

“Hn.”

“Yup.”

The sun was fully beginning to rise and Bruce desperately wanted some coffee. And Tylenol.

“We’ll come back to that. But can you promise me if we don’t come up with answers soon, you will at least consider the possibility? You have a blind spot when it comes to potential threats you think are too unapproachable. It’s not acceptable.”

“No, actually, I will not promise that. Because it would be akin to a bloody dimensional-scale suicide by trying to mess with shit that doesn’t concern us. You’re going to get eaten trying to pull your contingency bullshit with this. We don’t fucking mess with things that could obliterate our planet with nothing but a thought. Seriously, Bats, fuckin’ drop it.”

Batman resisted the urge to growl. This was irritating. Magic was always irritating.

“So to summarize, you have no ideas, whatsoever, about who the Unknown could be?”

He threw up his hands. “I know it’s either powerful and tricky or its doing the bidding for something that’s powerful. But if ghosts won’t say anything to me about it, what am I supposed to do?”

Now this, at least, felt like a problem that was potentially solvable. They could track down leads.

“Run me through what questions you asked, specifically, and if they varied,” he said instead. “Were there any non-verbal cues? And were you alone during the questioning? It could be worth having another JLD member send out some inquiries.”

The first thing he wanted to rule out was whether Constantine himself was an obstacle to the investigation—the Hellblazer had developed a… distasteful reputation, amongst some magical entities, to Batman’s understanding. It would be worth knowing if other magic-users got the same answer.

Only time will tell.

He also wanted to know whether summonings were potentially an option, since some beings could be forced into compliance. If there was some kind of magical barrier or conditioning in place, the next logical question was: what kind of energy it would take to break through it?