Dead on Mayn Honorable mention prompt: Blob ghosts and Jason
Kinda inspired by the cute little blob ghost in this very cool art.
---
Jason worked hard to get the Pit Rage under control. He started being able to tell when he was getting close to an episode and account for it. Even when something triggered it he would at least be able to struggle to get it under control.
So he was thrown off guard when a strange sensation pierced through his chest and his vision was suddenly blinded with green.
Then as suddenly as the rage took over it ended. Jason gasped for air, clutching his chest and looked around his room. Thankfully, his furniture was intact and yet it confused him.
What the fuck was that?
He didn't seem to do anything other than collapse to his hands and knees. Jason looked around, there wasn't anything that would've triggered a Pit Rage in his apartment.
After a half an hour looking for anything suspicious, he sighed and grabbed his comfort book, Pride and Prejudice, and let himself relax before tonight's patrol.
---
"Whoa! What spooked you little guy?" Danny said as he cupped his hands and let a terrified blob ghost nuzzle into his hold. It chirped and squeaked but all Danny could get was alarmed and scared.
He let the blob gather into one hand and used the other to gently pet it. Slowly but surely the little blob calmed down, nearly flattening into a puddle, purring all the while. Danny chuckled at the cute little guy.
"You seem like you've been through a lot today, but you're safe now. Here, let's get you something nice." Danny laughed as the blob ghost flew through him, filtering some of his ectoplasm.
"Haha, not me! Here, a treat." Danny filled a small petri dish with some ectoplasm from his stash he gathered from ambient ecto in Gotham.
A blob ghost's purpose was to filter ectoplasm usually by flying through said ectoplasm but Danny had found that in the living realm, they can lap at puddles of ecto to filter it too. It seemed like a slower process but Danny always found it so cute.
The blob ghost chirped happily as it lapped at the ecto with a tiny little tongue. Danny couldn't help but giggle. So adorable.
---
Jason was pacing through his apartment sorting through his thoughts. Lately when he was on the verge of waking up he felt a sensation tickling his forehead, the spot on his chest above his heart, and his fingers.
It kinda felt like when Alfred the Cat tries to groom him like he was an oversized kitten. But there was no trace of anything left behind. He actually felt a little cleaner which only added to his confusion.
When he was fully awake and stretched the sensations stopped. He looked everywhere in his apartment for an intruder, a clue or anything to help prove this wasn't just in his head. He set up bugs and cameras and checked their feeds.
Nothing he found absolutely nothing.
And most concerningly of the days the sensations happen, the never ending green rage at the edges of his vision seemed lesser, quieter. How?! Only Ra's could control the Pit Rage, could the League be up to something?
…For some reason he didn't think so. It was a gut feeling or more like a feeling in his chest, under the pit. There was a small ember but was slowly growing into a gentle warmth (he should get that checked).
Jason ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He'll try faking a nap, see if this time he could catch whatever was happening to him this time.
He sat at his table laid his head on an arm and extended the other as if to invite the mysterious intruder. He closed his eyes and waited.
…
!!!
There was the sensation at his fingertips! He slowly opened his eyes, carefully not creating any other movements.
…
Jason stared dumbfounded at the little teardropped shaped… thing that hovered over his hand licking at his index finger. It had round eyes that were completely red. It would be adorable if it wasn't a concerning shade of Lazarus green.
The… floating blob blinked and looked up at him. Jason's eyes widened when it squeaked in surprise and quickly density shifted through his floor.
…What the hell was that?
---
Danny hummed as he pet the blob ghost. It got scared again but not as bad as before.
Was it getting in trouble somewhere? Should he follow the little fella and make sure it's ok?
Hmmm. There were no visible injuries on the little guy. Plus if lil blobby was truly in trouble it would've led him to it already.
…He'll check if this happens another time.
Danny blinked as it started licking at his index finger. It was very slowly removing excess emotions in his ectoplasm. This was another thing that he noticed.
The filtering part was normal, he even counted on it to help relieve stress from his college courses.
But usually it would just fly through him since that was faster. Now it seems to favor this slower, gentler way for some reason.
…Danny shrugged, if that's how it wants to filter ecto then who was he to deny the lil guy.
---
Jason sat at his table head in his hands. Another long, mind boggling day…
He got Timmers to do some bloodwork and other checks to see if they could find something on the strange warmth growing under the pit.
…Or if there were side effects from the Lazarus green blob licking? Grooming? Eating him?
At least if Tim found something they could calmly investigate first instead of B finding out and have him breathing down Jason's neck in one part concern and two parts paranoia.
Things were going normal at first, there was nothing their machines could detect in his chest than his usual organs.
Then when they got to his blood… and whoo boy was he right in going to Tim first instead of checking in the Cave. Instead of the usual dark red, it had flecks of bright green in it!
When they investigated further they found it was a similar composition to the Pit waters but purer! Their sample of Pit water looked sickly and putrid compared to what they found in his blood.
They've never heard of Lazarus water like this. Nor did they hear of anyone revived by the waters having some of it in their blood.
Timbers instantly wanted to know how in the world this happened.
How the fuck was he supposed to know? He was still figuring this shit out.
He didn't want to tell Tim about the green blob thing yet. He needed to investigate more. …And he sort of felt bad for the little thing after scaring it before.
Jason left quickly after promising to let him know of any updates he finds. He needed a smoke or a moment to contemplate on this ridiculous turn his life was taking.
A small chirp brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up from his hands.
Jason stared with wide eyes as the green blob density shifted up from his floor, some of its body trailing after it like a comet.
It stopped and floated before him. His huffed a laugh, it was getting bolder like the stray cats he'd feed in the alleys. Good to know it was feeling safer with him.
This little blob… Jason was sure was linked to the worrying changes happening to him. But for all the unknowns he desperately want to understand, he could feel deep in his bones that it was… removing the Pit Rage from him. Somehow.
That made want to believe these changes, while deeply concerning, were good for him.
He slowly lifted his hand towards it, inviting it just like before.
The blob slowly floated closer flinching back a few times. Jason remained still as it got close enough to start licking at his finger.
…It did seem kinda cute, in a weird jelly kitten like way.
Now that he didn't scare it away he could see the green that usually lined his vision actually lessen in real time. His shoulders drooped as he could finally release some of the iron grip he had over the Pit to keep it under control.
"Were you what triggered that Pit episode a while ago?" Jason didn't expect the blob to answer. He was more talking to himself, ironing out his thoughts. Rubber ducking and all that, y'know?
The little blob blinked at him then just continued licking.
"Guess I scared you off that time. Sorry bout that."
The blob blinked but chirped as well as if it could feel his guilt and responded.
"Was that a 'no worries'?" Jason laughed amused. He smiled softly at the purr that resounded from it. It continued licking like a kitten determined to give him a bath.
"…what are you doing little guy? Are you eating the Pit Rage but somehow adding Lazarus water to my blood?"
No chirp this time, perhaps that was too complicated for the little fella to follow.
Jason tapped the table with his free hand. "…I don't want to keep calling you 'green blob thing' in my head. How about… Olive?"
He watched as the blob stopped licking and -for lack of a better term- loafed on his table. So round and green like the name he suggested. Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. "The resemblence is uncanny, heh."
Olive chirped happily either in agreement with the name or because of his mirth, Jason couldn't tell.
Suddenly Jason shivered as a chill washed through his apartment. Somehow he could tell it came from below his apartment. A chirp drew his attention and he saw Olive dive through his floor.
Jason narrowed his eyes at the floor. Olive always density shifted through the floor even though it could fly, it could've easily flown away in any direction.
He remembered there was new tenant that moved into his apartment building recently. He lived one floor down from his.
It could just be coincidence but it's better to leave no stone unturned. Jason quietly climbed down the fire escape and carefully looked through the window.
No way, why was what you're looking for always right under your nose? Jason stared wide eyed as he saw Olive nuzzling his downstairs neighbor at the crook of his neck.
The neighbor was laughing, his smile bright and petting the blob.
Jason caught his neighbor tensing and turning towards the window. He immediately fled back to his apartment before he could be spotted.
He was almost caught but he felt like he finally found a lead to all these unknowns.
---
Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. That was his downstairs neighbor, was going to Gotham University on a scholarship, studying aerospace engineering. Impressive. He was from a small town, Amity Park, Illinois.
Jason had to pause at its tourist headline, 'most haunted place in America'. …Haunted? As in ghosts?
If he didn't live the ridiculous vigilante life he lived, he would have brushed it off. But as he thought about it, little Olive could be a ghost; cartoony ectoplasm green, flies around, goes through walls or floors.
…Shit. Was Olive a ghost? A ghost of cat, dog or even a puppy or kitten? Wouldn't be unheard of, pets and strays die too. It would explain the licking, maybe leftover instincts from its previous life.
Jason shook his head to stop that sad line of thinking. Olive seemed content in its new err… existence. No need for a pity party.
Now though, he had to plan out how to meet with Danny that wouldn't scare him off.
---
Jason observed Danny sitting at an open table at a cafe near the apartment. He was eating a sandwich with one hand and subtly covering Olive with his palm and gently stroking it with his thumb.
He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself and trailed in after a few customers entering the cafe. He was a step inside when he felt the same cold as before.
Danny instantly sat up straighter and whipped around to stare at Jason. Fuck, he should have put it together that if he could sense Danny, Danny could sense him.
"Next," a firm voice called out to get Jason's attention to order something. He took a quick look to see Danny still gaping at him. Jason ordered a croissant on the display, something simple and quick so he could go up to Danny faster.
He walked up to Danny's table, mumbling a "is this table free?"
"Uh! Yes? I mean sure you can sit here." Danny stumbled with his words.
As he sat down, a happy chirp rang out and they blinked at Olive. They watched as it flew from Danny's hold to lick at the back of Jason's hand that was holding his croissant.
Danny's eyebrows shot up looking at Olive and then Jason and back to Olive multiple times. He sighed fondly to himself, "so this is why you picked up that habit."
He looked at Jason's chest intensely, could he see what was causing the warmth in his chest even bat-grade tech couldn't pick up? Danny's face pinched in concern. Then he met Jason's eyes and hesitantly smiled. "Hi? I'm Danny, guess we have a lot to talk about."
"Jason and yes we do." He sighed in relief , Danny was willing to talk, he was finally gonna get some answers.
Damian: *Drops behind a car* What's the situation, Drake?
Tim laying flat on his stomach: One of my worst enemies is in the area. Level nine threat.
Damian: A level nine!? We must call for reinforcements. There is little chance you and I have to defeat them, as much as it pains me to admit it.
Tim: No!
Damian: What?
Tim: No, don't call for help! I don't want the rest to know about this!
Damian carefully moving his hand aside: It is too late. I pressed the panic button.
Tim: What!? When!?
Damian: When the words "level nine" came out of your mouth. It's effective to call as soon as an emergency presents itself. It's why the button is so easy to push.
Tim: NO! We have to leave before-
Danny leaning around the car to stare at them: Timothy?
Tim: *jumps to his feet* DAnIel! hEY! HoW ArE YOu?
Damian: Why did your voice crack like that? You should be far past that stage of puberty.
Tim: Ha HA hA sHUt Up DaMIan! AlLWays MaKIng joKES thAT ONe!
Danny: *laughs* It's good to see you haven't changed much.
Tim: I'M DONE WITH PUBERTY!
Danny: ....Congraulations.
Damian: What is happening? Who are you?
Danny: Oh, sorry I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Daniel Fenton but you can call me Danny. I'm Tim's ex.
Damian: ....what
Tim: MY EX. WHO I DON'T MISS OR RUN AWAY FROM IN PUBLIC.
Damian: Drake why are you shouting?
Danny: Tim has always been been like that.
Damian: ....No?
Tim: WeLP ThIs has been NIce but we gOT to Go-
Batmobile driving through a fire hydrant, smashing it to pieces, water bursting, A voice screaming over a microphone yelling from it's speakers: THE NIGHT, THE VENGEANCE, THE BATMAN IS HERE!
Danny: Wha-
Damian: *Points at Danny*
Tim: NO!
Batmobile: *Runs over Danny*
Tim: This is why I didn't want you to call them! Why'd you have to single Danny out like that when you know Batman is more violent in the daytime!?
Damian: Actions must be taken when the panic button is pressed. Fenton had to be taken out.
Tim: No he didn't!
Danny: *rolling off the Batmobile windshield* Can somebody take me the hospital?
Tim: Danny don't talk! He'll notice you're still conscious and- BATMAN DO NOT PUT THE BATMOBILE IN REVERSE TO HIT HIM AGAIN!
Damian crouching down to Danny crumbled form: How big is your medical deductible? I feel like you're going to use a lot of medical insurance in the next couple of minutes.
Danny: Please help me
Damian covering Danny's mouth and nose: Shhhhhhh...go to sleep. Go to sleep.
Tim: DAMIAN! STOP TRYING TO SUFFOCATE HIM!
Batmobile: *honk*
Tim: I AM NOT GETTING OUT OF THE WAY! STOP TRYING TO RUN OVER MY MAN!
Damian: Your man? *pressing harder on Danny's face* See, Fenton, this is a better fate for you. If you live, you'll have to deal with Drake not being over you, but you can avoid that if you sleep....That's right. Stop struggling. You don't have the strength anymore. Shhhhhhhh. Sleep.
Tim: *kicking Damian straight in the face sending him flying* GET OFF HIM! DANNY ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?
Danny, gasping for air: I'm good.
Tim: Im so sorry about Damian!
Danny: Its...cool....you should see....how my distant Not-relatives are....the day after....Truce Day. This is actually tamed.
Tim: Wow really- *Get hit by the Batmobile* AGHHHH
the wisdom ive learnt is that becoming part of a friend group 1) takes a long time and 2) involves a lot of feeling awkward and left out at first. there’s nothing terrible about this but if you grew up chronically lonely or have any kind of trauma relating to social isolation this likely feels Really Wrong and activates danger signals. but both fortunately and unfortunately it’s just how becoming close to new people works most of the time
another thing that was not intuitive to me as someone who grew up an autistic loner: basically everyone on the planet is starved for connection all the time and almost everything people do is an attempt to reach out to another. most seemingly illogical interactions and behaviours can be explained by this. you have to take as many of these invitations as you can. even if you're wrong you still attempted to bring more warmth into the world
not to be insensitive but some of the salem witch trials were so funny bitches like “i saw her at the devils sacrament!!!” girl... what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament 👀
Look, I don't know if you can tell, but I really like soulmate AUs, okay. Also, writing something exactly 500 words is more annoying than I thought it would be, but was a fun experiment.
Lightly inspired by this post.
Danny's parents were never concerned about the words on Danny’s wrist. Given their occupation, they thought Danny would meet someone while studying, or perhaps even lecturing on ghosts, or maybe as part of some other job in the future. Jazz has always been concerned about the words on Danny’s wrist. This is probably the normal reaction, given most people do not surround themselves with the dead.
Danny himself was concerned about it for a while. But then he died. The amount of death surrounding him at all times, what with his parents’ study of ghosts, practically tripled after that. And suddenly the words ‘Is he dead?’ were a lot less concerning. Because in his life, oftentimes the answer was yes.
Not that he was always around dead bodies or anything. But the company he kept did include a large amount of ghosts and other ectoplasmic beings, that while they were not dead, weren’t technically alive either.
So, Danny moved on with his life as normal. He knew what his words were, but was never actively listening for them. For a few years there he was barely hanging on to sanity, battling ghosts and trying to graduate high school.
Eventually, life calmed down. His parents, unfortunately, died in their own lab accident. Danny was in his senior year at the time, and Jazz took a semester off of college to help him graduate and get accepted at university himself. Then they shut the portal down and moved on from Amity Park.
Jazz went back to Yale. Danny, who did not make high enough grades for that, went to Gotham University. It was there that he discovered he actually really liked college. School was a lot easier when he wasn’t fighting for his life all the time, and this time he got to take classes he was actually interested in.
By the start of his second year, his life was looking up. He was majoring in mechanical engineering, and he loved all his science classes. He had a somewhat decent apartment, and was living without much worries on the money from selling his parents’ house. Gotham is not the best area, but it can be a really cheap place to live. And he didn’t see Sam, Tuck, or Jazz as often as any of them would like, but they were all happy where they were.
Which makes the current moment much more distressing than it would have been in his teenage years. As Danny looks at the now-dead body in front of him, then turns and presses his forehead into the alley wall. He’s seconds away from banging his head against it, but that would only give him a headache and would in no way help the current situation.
The vigilante standing across the alley, on the other side of the body, did not move for a solid minute upon rounding the corner onto the scene. Then he asks, in a voice distorted by tech, “Is he dead?”.
I’m just imagining Danny doing this when Jason walks in and sees The Joker’s corpse. ^^^
——————
Danny doesn’t wanna deal with this. He’s trying to live a normal college life (though maybe it was a mistake to think Gotham could be normal in any way). Then he gets spooked by a crazy clown and punches the man on instinct, forgetting to control his strength. Though, in his defense, the man was stealthy enough to suddenly appear behind him and creepy enough to scare him, which his brain perceived as a ghost.
Then this guy shows up.
Danny very firmly does not respond, choosing to continue glaring at the wall in hopes that ignoring the situation will make it go away. A full minute passes, but it does not go away, and neither does the man.
“Is he dead?”
Oh. Ancients. Please no.
How is it possible to have this kind of luck? His soulmate’s first impression of him is of him killing somebody. Accident or no, that is probably the worst way to introduce himself. In fact, how does he even introduce himself in this situation? ‘Hey there soulmate! Nice to meet you! Sorry you had to see me kill that guy, totally an accident. Hey, maybe we can just forget this whole thing, yeah?‘
Danny sighs and gathers the courage to turn around and face the man behind him and— holy shit that’s the Red Hood. His soulmate is the Red FUCKING Hood. A crime-lord-vigilante-anti-hero is what the universe chose for him? Danny can practically hear Clockwork laughing at him.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of clowns.”
——————
(Feel free to add on or tag someone who you know will. And off the top of my head I’ll add the few I can remember.
"I'm not a fan of clowns" is an AMAZING tattoo for Jason to grow up with.
Imagine, you are young Jason and you wonder what your soulmate has against clowns. Then the Man Who Laughs comes to power, and you start to understand.
You are Robin, getting beat to death by the Clown Prince of Crime. You catch a glimpse of the words on your forearm, spoken by the soulmate you'll never get to meet. "I'm not a fan of clowns."
You are the Red Hood, risen from the Lazarus Pit. You look at your forearm. "Yeah, me neither," you say.
You are a Bat in Gotham, beholding the most beautiful sight imaginable, the Joker himself laid out on the ground. You ask if he's dead. The boy in front of you responds with six words that have followed you all your life:
The sirens were blaring. The situation was quickly escalating into an all-hands-on-deck emergency, and Batman was doing his best to give every superhero who came through the zeta-tube a position that would maximize their chances of surviving this.
Which wasn't easy when the threat was a complete unknown, one with apparently limitless power. Somehow, they hadn't suffered any catastrophic injuries so far, and the Flashes had managed to evacuate most civilians within the first twenty minutes.
However, considering the amount of power the being had displayed so far, and the complete lack of damage they had been able to inflict, it didn't feel as though their endurance up to this point was the result of their own efforts. Instead, it felt like the being was deliberately holding back.
Batman hated the sensation that it was merely toying with them before delivering a final, devastating blow, like a cat entertaining itself with prey before finally killing it.
He leapt out of the path of another stray attack. The fact that he was able to evade it at all, despite having witnessed other attacks move far faster, was just another piece of evidence supporting Batman's theory that the being was holding back.
They hadn't even been able to communicate with it. They had no motive, no known objective, no understanding of what it wanted, not even a clear description of what it looked like, since they only caught a shadow of an anthropomorphic figure between the onslaught of attacks.
The relentless battle had now dragged on for nearly two hours.
“We need something else to try! Nothing we do is affecting him!” Batman heard Wonder Woman shout through the comms.
“Do we have any news from the Dark members? I may not know what this being is, but it clearly has magical properties,” Shazam exclaimed as he launched yet another attack at the being, only for the man to be thrown back. Starfire was quick to soften his landing.
The closest zeta-tube, positioned a thousand miles north, sent another activation notification to Batman's wrist computer, and he was already thinking about where the weakest points in their formation were before he even knew who the new arrival was.
He couldn’t stop the resigned sigh that escaped his lips when the zeta-tube announced B-25. It was Phantom. So far, other than Shazam, there hadn't been any other young heroes arriving, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he started seeing more of them soon. Phantom was most likely just the start.
Phantom, despite claiming to have lived for almost half a millenia, had also accepted that by his own species' standards he was quite young, and Bruce had estimated that mentally the boy wasn't older than sixteen in human developmental years.
Usually, Bruce tried to keep the younger heroes out of world-ending threats, but he had to make an exception when no alternative was working. Phantom had powerful abilities, and while Batman had no reason to believe his powers would have any more impact than those of the other heavy hitters so far, he also had no reason to stop the boy from acting.
He really wished they could have wrapped up this battle before he had to start positioning young teens on the front lines.
“Hey Bats, heard things are looking pretty bad here. Where do you need me?” Phantom’s voice came through his comm. They had never been able to completely get rid of the staticky effect the ghost inflicted on the device, but it was still worlds better than the first time the ghost used them.
“We haven’t been able to inflict any damage so far, but we’re trying different attacks. Most of our electricity-based heroes are working southwest, so position yourself northeast for the time being to avoid interfering with each other. Try some attacks, and we’ll adjust from there.” Batman tried to keep certain powers working in the same area for cases like these, where incompatibilities between allies could become an issue.
“So we really are at the 'throwing everything we have and hoping something works' phase, huh?” Phantom commented just as he appeared in Batman's right field of view, allowing him to see the exact moment the ghost froze in place.
He frowned. “Phantom, have you found an incompatibility with the being? If so, I request that you retire.” Batman spoke sharply.
Sure, they needed more heavy hitters, but it wouldn't really help if one of them had some fundamental weakness against the being. Superman was barely being any help with his weakness to magic, but other heroes trusted Superman’s experience enough to rely on the man in the field even when weakened.
It would not be the same with a young hero.
Heroes would get distracted trying to protect the kid. Young heroes might hate it and see it as demeaning, but in the end, adults couldn't ignore it when children appeared to be in danger, and Batman had to account for that bias when strategizing against threats.
“N-no, um, I know that guy.” Phantom stammered, but Batman didn't hear any fear in his voice. It sounded more like he had been caught off guard. He also noted that the being was a he. Not that knowing his gender really made any difference here, but after two hours of nothing, it was refreshing to have any information about him at all. “Hey, Batman? Could you get everyone to back away? I think I can get him to stop… at least for a moment.”
Batman turned his attention back to the battlefield. Nothing had changed since this whole thing started. Their attacks were serving more to deflect the being's assaults than to actually hurt him. To a certain extent, stopping wouldn't really change anything, but it could still place them all at a disadvantage if the being decided to stop holding back the moment they gave him space.
“Are you sure you can do that? It could put everyone in danger if you are unable to.”
“Yeah… as long as he doesn’t decide to be an asshole about it.” Phantom murmured the last phrase.
It didn’t give Batman much confidence. The being had been attacking for a long time, and sure, he was holding back, but any of Bruce’s sons would agree that this behavior firmly placed him in the asshole category. Then again, no one else even knew what he was, and nothing they had tried so far had worked. Whatever Phantom had planned here might be their only chance.
He sighed. “Okay, but you have to be quick. If the being doesn’t stop within ten minutes after we cease our attacks, we’re returning to the current positions. Understood?”
“As clear as day.” Phantom chirped.
“I need everyone to step back for ten minutes. We’re trying something else,” Batman announced through the comms.
The heroes reunited around the being hadn't even finished complying when Phantom darted closer and screamed, “Half-time! Half-time! I demand a review!” And to everyone's utter confusion, the being stopped.
“Phantom? What are you doing here?” a deep, raspy voice asked. Batman couldn't believe the being was capable of talking. They had tried to communicate with him multiple times.
Without the constant barrage of attacks, he slowly began to make out the man's actual appearance. His eyes were red, his frame was massive, and he shared a certain resemblance to Phantom that Batman did not like noticing.
“What else would I be doing here? This is my home, dipshit.” Phantom snarled exasperatedly, planting his hands on his hips. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, save us the unnecessary questions. You know I only go where the clock sends me,” the being snarled back.
“Right, because you never enjoy doing this. This place is mine, Poltergeist,” Phantom growled.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.” The newly named Poltergeist scoffed. “Let's see.”
He reached into his own arm and pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages. Batman could only add this action, the name, the resemblance to Phantom, and the fact that the teen knew him to his growing list of evidence that this man was a ghost.
He knew from Phantom that ghosts were powerful, but he hadn't thought they could be this powerful. He would need to prioritize contingencies against ghosts once this was dealt with. At least whatever conversation Phantom and this Poltergeist were having seemed to be going well.
That is, there hadn't been any new attacks, and he hoped it stayed that way. He could see some of his allies taking advantage of the possibly temporary ceasefire to collect themselves and get injured teammates treated as best as possible without fully immobilizing them, in case things went south and they had to resume the fight.
Poltergeist finally found the page he had been looking for. “So, is this not AU18DC86DP08062026?” he asked, reading aloud.
Phantom looked clearly displeased by the alphanumeric string that apparently described “here.” Batman still didn't know what level of magnitude “here” referred to. These exact coordinates? This city? This planet? This solar system? It could mean anything. He was going to have so many questions for Phantom later.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Phantom growled, now clearly annoyed. “Let me see that.” He swooped forward and snatched the notebook away.
“Hey! Careful, you jerk. Whisp made that for me!” Poltergeist protested.
“I'm not going to break it...” Phantom whipped his head around to stare at Poltergeist and exclaimed, all traces of anger vanishing and pure awe filling his voice, “Wait, she made it for you?”
“Yes. I told you we've gotten closer.” Poltergeist crossed his arms and looked positively smug.
“I'm glad,” Phantom said softly, a warmth entering his eyes that Batman had only seen when the ghost looked at people he had adopted as family.
Batman had... so many questions, and he could see many of the heroes observing the scene dumbfounded. Martian Manhunter, one of the first adults the teen had dubbed “his,” looked the most baffled, and Batman wondered if there was another psychic layer to this conversation that he was missing.
Anyhow, the strange domesticity the conversation had taken on had allowed the heroes to relax even further. Batman was starting to consider organizing an evacuation for those with the worst injuries.
Poltergeist cleared his throat, now looking away as though embarrassed. “Were you not about to check the code?”
“Ah, right.” Phantom looked back down at the notebook and pursed his lips. “I don't get where you get your terrible handwriting from. Both me and Vlad have decent enough handwriting.”
“Oh, spare me the lecture.” Poltergeist waved a hand dismissively.
“I'll spare it when it isn't affecting me! Can you really confidently tell me any of these are actually sixes, fives, or eights? They all look almost the same!” Phantom complained, waving the notebook accusingly.
“Of course I... well, I think so?” Poltergeist admitted with a grimace.
“Ancients. You need to find a more reliable way to do this.”
“Alright, alright, I get it. My numbers suck. Blame the clock. You know how many codes he has me writing in one sitting?” Poltergeist threw his hands up.
“Ugh, the bastard has all the time in the world and yet...” Phantom muttered.
“Right!? Like, use your time-outs for this supposedly incredibly important information!” Poltergeist huffed.
Phantom sighed. “So...”
“Yes, yes, I'll honor your review request and go confirm this with Clockwork.” Poltergeist rolled his eyes, though his tone lacked any real irritation. “I'll let you know how it goes.”
Phantom huffed and held out the notebook. “Here. And seriously, work on your numbers.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Poltergeist took the notebook back carefully, tucking it away into his arm again. “I'll think about it.”
“Hope it goes well,” Phantom said. Then, after a moment of silence, he added almost timidly, “Hey, and if it turns out null, could you stay and visit for a few days? Feels like it's been decades.”
Poltergeist looked at Phantom for a long moment, his expression softening. “Sure, lil me.” And then the man was engulfed in shadows and disappeared.
Phantom pouted as he floated back toward Batman. “I've told him not to call me that,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Phantom. If you don’t mind, I would like some explanations. Starting with who that man was, how you know him, and why he was attacking.” Batman demanded.
“Ugh, straight back to business as always.” Phantom groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shouldn’t we be looking after the injured or something?”
“I trust the rest of the team is able to do that now that there isn’t an imminent threat in the field,” Batman replied.
“... Right.” Phantom shifted nervously in the air. “Um, so that was Poltergeist.”
“I gathered.”
“And he’s my older brother.”
Fantastic. Phantom has an older brother with unlimited power. Batman massaged his temple. At least this confirmed that Poltergeist was a ghost.
“And why was your brother attacking us?”
“Right, so, that’s a pretty long explanation. A lot of context is needed...” Phantom said, hovering nervously in the air. “Can’t we, like, go back to the Watchtower and talk there?”
Batman raised an eyebrow and looked around. There weren’t any civilians left, and the only people able to hear them would be other Justice League allies, but Batman could understand not wanting to discuss personal matters in front of every hero present. Even if said personal matters had caused an all-hands-on-deck level threat. He sighed.
“All right.” He pressed his comm. “Nightwing, I’m going back to the Watchtower to discuss what has happened with Phantom. Could you...”
“Don’t worry, B, we have everything covered here,” Nightwing's voice came, sounding a little strained from the other side.
Batman pursed his lips. He hadn’t received any notice of his eldest getting hurt. He glanced around the battlefield. Nightwing was too far away for him to see clearly from his position, but hopefully his son was occupied with something and wasn’t actually hiding a major injury. He sighed. He would have to trust his son's judgment. Turning back toward Phantom, he nodded.
“All right, let’s get to the Watchtower.”
—
Phantom hovered around the room, searching for the right words, while Batman checked the logs that had been entered into the system during the attack. He was trying to be patient here. Phantom was a nervous young boy, and he didn’t want the teen to shut down.
“Alright,” Phantom finally began, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know how I mentioned once that I was a protective spirit?”
“Mm,” Batman acknowledged, not looking up from the screen.
“Right, so, my brother is also a protector but… in a different way.”
“Which means?” Batman asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Um, he gets rid of the universes that are a threat to the Infinite Realms? You know, the place that I told you is connected to all existing universes?” Phantom explained in a meek voice.
“He destroys universes,” Batman concluded, barely keeping the panic out of his voice. They had had a universe destroyer attacking them.
“Well, yes. But to protect all the other universes!” Phantom exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You know, like when you cut off a leaf that shows signs of fungus so the rest of the plant won't die as well?”
“So he’s decided our universe is a threat.” Batman growled lowly, narrowing his eyes at Phantom.
“He hasn’t.” Phantom immediately raised his arms in a calming motion. “Um, the Ancient of Time told him, but Da... uh, Poltergeist may be mistaken. Like, the code was not clear at all. He could definitely be in the wrong universe!” Phantom hurried to explain.
“Universes that have become a threat to the Infinite Realms rarely have sentient life. More often than not, they're a threat because of the way they sink ectoplasm, like a black hole pulls in light. The few that have had sentient life in them had that sentient life actively working to damage the Infinite Realms, and to my knowledge, that is not what is happening here!” Phantom rushed through his explanation in an effort to appease Batman.
“To your knowledge. There's still a chance.” Batman crossed his arms, thinking through what Phantom had said. From what Phantom had explained in the past, Ancient meant the personification of something, so the personification of time itself was sending Poltergeist to destroy universes.
His jaw tensed. From what they had seen so far, if the ghost wasn’t mistaken, they would be in great trouble. “If he was here believing he was getting rid of a threatening universe, why was he... holding back against us?”
“Believe it or not, this is not the first time my brother has gone to the wrong universe.” Phantom rolled his eyes in fond annoyance.
“So he usually fools around a little to see if Clockwork, or someone else, will intervene. Besides, there isn’t always a need for the universe to be completely destroyed. Sometimes it's enough to cause a scene for the universe to be redirected onto the right path.
Not that Clockwork would specify which universes are which,” Phantom scoffed, “so Poltergeist just takes things slowly until there's no chance the sentence wasn't destruction.”
“What would a scene entail?” Batman asked, leaning forward slightly. “Would what he has done so far count as a scene?”
“Uh...” Phantom winced. “I’m not sure.”
Batman sighed, pulling up the battle logs once more. This conversation was doing nothing to calm his nerves. He had been grateful when Phantom was able to easily stop Poltergeist's attack, but everything he heard only made his worries grow.
They had no real way to defend themselves if the Ancient of Time confirmed that this universe had been sentenced to destruction. He understood the cosmic logic behind Poltergeist's work, but that didn’t mean he was willing to let his dimension be destroyed for the greater good.
His children lived here, his friends lived here, and there were billions of lives he had worked day and night to protect. He wouldn’t let it all end just because a higher being had decided they were too much of a threat to continue existing.
The “scene” option wasn’t a good alternative either, not when they didn’t even have a definition for what a “scene” was. What would they do if, for it to be effective, Poltergeist had to destroy the Earth? He needed to discuss this with the JLD and see if there was any chance they had a way to combat this.
He should have found a more reliable way to counter ghosts when Phantom first arrived. Sure, every attempt had ended in failure, but he had let himself get distracted by other matters too easily.
Batman slowly raised his eyes to Phantom again. The ghost was hovering nervously from side to side, biting his lip as though he were trying to find words that would reassure Batman. Batman doubted those words existed.
“Phantom. What is your plan if Poltergeist returns with the objective of destroying this universe?” he finally voiced the question he had been dreading.
Phantom was a close friend of Tim's. The boy had stayed over at the Manor more times than Bruce could count, he got along with all of the other teen heroes, and more than a few heroes had an unspoken agreement of shared custody over the kid.
Bruce was excluded only because of his children's efforts to keep Phantom firmly in the family friend category, but Bruce had always found the boy somewhat nephew-like. If Phantom sided with Poltergeist, if they had to fight against Phantom in their attempt to save their home dimension... Bruce didn’t know if they would be able to emotionally survive that.
Phantom furrowed his brows. “Batman, I’m a protector spirit. You heard what I told Poltergeist, didn’t you? This place is mine. I don’t care what Clockwork says about this universe, it is mine. Poltergeist will have to trap me in my core before he can put a real dent in it.” Phantom’s eyes grew brighter as he spoke, his voice taking on more of the ghostly reverberance they heard whenever the ghost got angry.
Batman kept his eyes on the ghost, relieved to hear they would not have to fight against him, but feeling bad for the position the kid would be put in if the worst outcome did come to pass. Phantom's warm look toward his brother when they had spoken about this Whisp person getting along with him came to mind.
“Would you really be able to fight against your brother?” he asked quietly.
Phantom let out a humorless chuckle. “And win too. I have done it multiple times.” The ghost finally took a seat, or rather a table, as he perched beside Batman’s monitor, pulling his legs up to his chest and looking down.
“The truth is, Batman, a universe under my protection would never be able to be destroyed. Even if I lose and am forced into my core, Poltergeist would be too injured or exhausted to finish the job. It doesn’t mean it would go unscathed from Poltergeist's attacks but... it’ll be fine.”
“Then if Poltergeist is asked to destroy this universe, this Ancient of Time is actually just asking for a 'scene'?” Batman asked, not liking the implications that Phantom had had to fight with his brother multiple times because of this Ancient's orders, but deciding not to touch that issue at the moment.
Phantom shook his head. “If Clockwork is sending Poltergeist here, it most likely means he wants us both to be out of commission for some time, out of the way of some other great event that will be happening soon and that we, as balance missionaries, won’t like, but that Time considers necessary.”
“Balance missionaries?” Batman repeated, his brows furrowing at the unfamiliar title.
It occurred to him that they were lacking a great deal of knowledge about the Infinite Realms. Phantom had adapted exceptionally well to human society. Everything from his "Danny's" disguise to his mannerisms fit in remarkably well, and the teen also spoke casually about ghosts and the Infinite Realms.
Batman had assumed, in the comfort of easy answers and because of the teen's protective personality, that aside from the paranormal factor, they shared similar social structures.
Or perhaps it had been his dislike for the paranormal that had allowed him to remain comfortable with how little he knew. After all, the JLD was there to handle that side of things. That assumption sat poorly with him now. He had accepted too many unknowns simply because they had been convenient, and the realization left an unpleasant weight in his chest.
Phantom groaned and flopped backward dramatically onto the table. “That one is actually too long, and I refuse to explain it. Long story short, it’s a title me, Poltergeist, and our little sister Whisp got around our hundredth death year. It just so happens that Balance and Time don’t always agree.”
Bruce frowned. “If you’re aware this is only a way for him to get you both out of the way, why don’t you refuse from the start?”
Phantom grimaced. “It isn’t that simple...” He sat back up from where he had flopped onto the table and rubbed his arms uneasily. “I’m sure Constantine has told you before that paranormal beings tend not to have all the same liberties as mortals do. Poltergeists have a need to destroy what has been classified as a danger, and I have to protect what’s mine to protect. We can't not do it.
Besides, it doesn’t always work in Clocky's favor even when we go along with it.” Phantom sighed and hugged his knees tighter. “Look, even if Poltergeist does return with a destruction sentence, I’ll ask him to take it to an uninhabited place. That much we can afford to do. So it’ll be fine.”
Batman frowns. “I don’t think anyone would like for you to go fight far away on your own in a battle that, from what you’ve told me, will leave you terribly injured.”
Phantom made a wet laugh. “Then let’s hope Poltergeist returns for a brother's hang out instead, because I can’t stay here if we do have to fight” Phantom hides his face in his knees. “Fuck, I really liked my existance here, I don’t want to leave yet.”
Bruce's brow knit with concern, somewhat confused by Phantom's assumption that he would have to leave after the attack. Did the ghost believe he would be blamed for the possible destruction of their surroundings?
“You don’t have to leave, Phantom. Regardless of how things develop, no one would blame you or want you gone. This is not a decision you are taking.”
Phantom shook his head, his voice muffled by his knees. “I can’t stay in a universe where we’ve fought.” He raised his head slightly, his wet eyes peeking up from where they had been hidden behind his knees.
“Beings like us emit a lot of energy. After a fight like that? There’s no way this universe will have the structural strength to put up with me.”
“Are you certain there’s no other option?”
Phantom nodded. “Not one we’ve found in the last five hundred years.”
Batman placed a hand on Phantom's shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb in circles against it. “You haven’t searched in this universe yet. Let’s not give up until we have at the very least tried.”
Phantom’s resulting laugh was so resigned that it was heartbreaking to hear. “I’m sorry, Batsy, but I’d rather spend my possible last moments in this universe doing something other than falling into a research spiral.”
He sniffed, a hand coming up to rub at his eye, and after looking away, he started speaking again, his words almost a mumble. “I know there’s a huge cleanup going on, but do you think J'onn will be free soon? I want to stay with him for a while.”
Batman thinned his lips for a moment. It wasn’t surprising that Phantom would resign himself if he had gone through this multiple times before, but he still hated seeing such hopelessness in young eyes. He hated magic and the supernatural.
He knew some of the hero community saw him as a man who looked for children to turn into heroes, but giving those kids capes and training had always been the result of trying to keep extremely capable children with a hunger for violence and justice alive.
He would be delighted if any of his children decided to quit one morning, though at this point he was convinced it was more likely for Alfred the cat to learn to fly than for any of them to do so. But magic never seemed to give anyone an option. Not Billy with the wisdom of Solomon, and not Phantom now.
“We have more than enough people helping down there.” Batman gave the teen's shoulder a final squeeze before withdrawing his hand. “I can call him up if you want.”
Phantom only nodded, not looking at Batman again.
“Before that,” Batman continued, “do you perhaps know how long it’ll take for Poltergeist to get his answer?”
Phantom shrugged and pushed himself off the table. “You never know with Clockwork. It could be an hour, it could be a couple months.” He floated toward the door before pausing. “Could you tell J’onn I’ll be in my Watchtower bedroom?”
“Of course.” Batman hesitated for a moment. “And Phantom, if we have a question...”
“Sure, I’ll answer what I can.” Phantom offered him a small, tired smile. “Still don’t think you’ll find anything, but well, you are one of Hope's favorites after all.” With that, Phantom left the room.
Batman blinked. One of Hope's favorites? He looked at his own reflection on the monitor's screen. Something like that didn’t fit him. He shook his head, pushing the strange comment out of his mind. He needed to get the JLD to the Watchtower yesterday.
Even if Phantom didn’t have to leave the universe if a battle did happen, sending the teen to fight against Poltergeist was not a plan. They couldn’t rely on a single teenager to save them all. They needed options, and for that, he needed information.
Danny is trying to lay low in the DCU. Then he gets kidnapped for his own summoning, along with a bunch of other people, and volunteers himself as a sacrifice to avoid anyone actually dying. His bad luck means the summoning was legit. He doesn’t really transform, but his eyes glow bright green, his hair has white glowing spots, and there is a spark around him. That's when people he has by now identified as this universe’s heroes/vigilantes finally arrive.
Now, Danny really doesn’t want to deal with questions in either form, but he is also basically homeless. So he figures out a way to maybe fall under these heroes’/vigilantes’ jurisdiction for a while without having to answer any questions:
He pretends to have complete amnesia.
Phantom goes back and forth with the heroes/vigilantes for about five sentences before pretending to get bored with them. Then he lets his ghostly traits mostly fade and lets Danny “fall unconscious” to the floor. The heroes/vigilantes are quick to check for injuries and his well-being, and when he “wakes up,” he acts confused and lost. He then proceeds to pretend he doesn’t remember anything other than his name, because he really would prefer to be called that. He is doing a damn good job with his acting, at least if the concerned faces are anything to go by.
Just to add some spice, and to make sure he is not handed over to whatever “looking out for people who have been in rogue attacks” system they have going on, Danny occasionally lets his ghostliness and powers bleed through.
Tim had heard parents joke that one day their kids would have children just like them and finally understand what they'd put their parents through. Bruce had never said that to him, but Tim wondered if he'd thought about it, and if that was the reason why Tim was in this situation.
Danny was a fourteen-year-old Tim had been keeping an eye on. The kid lived in the apartment complex right next to Tim's penthouse, and according to his paperwork, his guardian was one Vladimir Masters, a family friend who had taken him in after his parents died.
Tim had set his sights on the teen because he kept sneaking out at night, and Tim kept finding him close to active battles, just observing, a portable camera usually in hand, though Tim had never seen him actually use it.
By now, it was common for Red Robin to end his patrol by escorting the kid back to his apartment. He was almost giving up on the lectures, as they seemed to have no effect on Danny.
Tim found himself calling Bruce one night to ask for the contact information of the lawyer who had helped him so many times with custody matters, after discovering that there were barely any records of this Vlad Masters ever existing.
He thought he was the only kid crazy enough to pull this kind of shit.
Danny's hyper-independence, dismissal of his own needs, and continual attraction to danger are exhausting to look after. How can he make Danny understand that even if they're not family (yet, Tim is working on that), Tim still cares and worries? How does he make him understand that he can and should rely on him?
What does he need to do to make the kid understand he does want him?
Tim needs to get Bruce a basket or something. He really had no idea how much of a headache he had been giving the man. It had taken Tim, what, two years to start believing himself part of the family? But Bruce had managed to give him a place and a sense of security even with all the family drama they had. He can do the same for Danny.
------
Writer's choice for Danny's side of this, but a few things I've thought of are these:
Danny moved to a different universe with Vlad after things got a little too close to a catastrophe for comfort. It had been easy enough to move funds from one side to the other with the help of some of his ghost friends.
Then Vlad tried to pull some shit, and Danny decided he didn't want to deal with all of this again. He pushed Vlad out of the universe, telling him to find one of his own, and simply continued living.
He doesn't really feel scared at night, being a ghost and all. He actually enjoys flying around and taking pictures with spirits all around, and he has found the vigilantes' fights rather fascinating. They're so different from his battles with ghosts.
Danny: Hi, I made the horrible mistake of existing in the same environment as you and calling you "really pretty" where my friends could hear, and they forced me to come bother you. Would you mind looking vaguely amused by me for 5 minutes? Then as soon as they stop watching us I'll make a break for it.
Danny assumes she's just playing along like he asked. So naturally he tries to 'stop bothering her,' at the first chance he sees. But oddly enough, there's always something stopping him.
Cass meanwhile is having a lot of fun with her new friend. Especially seeing how many subtle ways she can distract or delay him from prematurely withdrawing. It's cute how baffled he is about it. Watching the anxiety bleed out of his body language, replaced by confusion. How long, she wonders, before he catches on.
Refusing to believe Alfred died so now I am imagining he is in the Infinite Realms. Clockwork has seen what he can do aka turn Danny into a King with a capitol letter, and he also knows what it will take to get Alfred to tutor their wayward prince.
This is the only time the speed force gets to judge him but seeing all the blunders Clockwork had to fix, they really have no standing lol. Alfred gets to live and spend more time with his charges, but on the weekends he has to be away to tutor Danny who is resistant at first but then likes being around the sassy butler. He also enjoys hearing stories about his charges because they give him ideas for when he has to visit the fruit loop.
Vlad is not happy about Danny making his chandelier fall. He is even more annoyed when Danny tells him to have one of his butlers email him an iou as he hands over a business card. Alfred impressed the need of a business card but it was stories of how Bruce weaponed them against against annoying people that got Danny to make his own, and after using them on Vlad 1 time it has been so worth it.
The Batbrood is a little jealous but they are also grateful since the rando who stole their butler/gramps is also the reason they get to have more time with Alfred. Maybe when they see Danny and how pretty he is they will be like "to unite the family I will sacrifice myself and marry him" but then it turns into a battle royal
Damian full-body twitched at the whisper, which was unfortunately not quiet enough to keep such idiocy out of his ears as he entered the room. “I will regain my boy,” he said sternly. “So that will be entirely unnecessary, Richard.”
Dick winced at the downgrade to his proper name. Damian huffed air from his nose, dissatisfied, but willing to consider the matter closed given the urgency of the situation. “Father, this is my budget proposal.” He used his left hand to toss the folder on the teak desk in the sunroom’s office. Father gaped at it gormlessly, not moving to pick it up until Damian lifted an eyebrow in pointed rebuke.
He waited while his father shuffled through the papers, a vaguely pained expression on his face. “Damian, I’m not sure that a million dollars is a normal amount to spend on a lost-pet advertisement campaign,” he said gently.
Dick had his best poker face on, which meant nothing to someone who knew him well enough to know that the lack of his usual expressiveness was a large tell.
Damian did his best not to roll his eyes. “Snitches is an unparalleled feline, and thus the market research for comparable campaigns was matched to something more appropriate.” He kept his tone as neutral as possible to avoid discord. “For pricing, please look at page seventeen.”
Pages flipped. “...This seems to be a list of Wayne family kidnapping incidents.” Father’s face twitched. Dick leaned over, obviously interested.
“You’ve listed all the ransom amounts that was asked for one of us?” he checked. “Cool graph. Am I still the winner?” Dick scanned the amounts. His face fell when he encountered the humorously undignified information that, in fact, Todd was in the lead.
“Initial amounts,” Damian said promptly. “I understand that relatively little time and money was invested into Snitches, so I chose the amount that was asked for Timothy in 2019. May, not August,” he clarified. August had been undervaluation even for Timothy.
Dick breathed out slowly through his nose, in a shamefully transparent attempt to control himself. “Tim-”
“It was before he was adopted,” Damian said dismissively. “Obviously, his current market rate is much higher. Given that Snitches was, in fact, legally adopted by myself, I thought it a generosity on my part to keep the budget that low.”
A high-pitched sound came from someone’s nose. Damian eyed his father and his eldest brother, but could not discern which one it was. How undignified.
“I understand your logic,” Father said finally. He looked tremendously old. “...Very well. One million dollars to find your cat. But that’s it!” he said, trying to regain control of the conversation.
Damian nodded sharply. “It will be sufficient.” Just barely, but he had a plan to make it work. “Please direct your attention to pages 4 through 7,” he ordered, knowing full well that Father’s eyes would glaze over at the itemized expenses.
“Give it to me verbally,” Father said.
Ideal. Damian launched into a painfully detailed listing of national, regional, and international newspapers which he would have a column written both in print and online, starting at Gotham and expanding regionally every day within which Snitches had not been yet located. He would have it written by Kent, as a professional courtesy. He had a list of gig work sites upon which he could recruit people to walk the streets of Gotham and put up flyers and check alleys and dumpsters. He had devised profiles of the teenagers involved in Snitches’ original kidnapping attempt, and included suggestions as to how each member of the team might use their patrol to stake out the suspects.
“I’m scheduled for 7 hours of watching the east window at a 16 year old girl’s house?” Father confirmed. His eyes were hollow and robbed of hope, exactly according to plan.
Damian gave a sharp nod. “Tonight. Todd shall do the daylight shift.”
“I doubt that,” Father said, very quietly. He cleared his throat. “Look, Damian.”
He waited in perfect predatory stillness.
“I think perhaps… you should rely less on patrol time for this,” Father settled on. “There are other issues outstanding, after all, such as that serial killer in the Bowery and the gang tensions.”
Damian gritted his teeth.
“Why don’t you get some other help?” Dick butted in, giving Father a warning look that Damian very much did not miss.
“Other help,” Damian said slowly, as if he had not engineered this whole conversation to lead to this conclusion. “Such as… associates?”
“Like Jon,” Dick suggested brightly. “Or your friends from school!”
“That seems like a good idea,” Father said, composed except that he winced at the word ‘friends’, knowing full well how Damian despised it. “You can get help with non Gotham vigilante associates, since we are unfortunately unable to dedicate enough time to the project.”
Damian waited a moment to sell it, portraying a struggle with indecision. He could not accept too gracefully, or someone might read his detailed budget proposal and discover that he had already allotted most of the money for specialists. “I will attempt this route first,” he said stiffly. He pretended not to notice the relief in the room. “Very well.” He reached out a hand to receive his plan.
He left with his head held high, knowing that he was the uncontested winner in that discussion. More fools they! The obvious had escaped them in their dotage.
Snitches was, after all, no ordinary cat. He had been summoned in a ritual meant to communicate with a ghost. Perhaps he was a ghost himself, given his intangibility and near-human intelligence. The obvious first step was a consultation with one of the magicians who would accept bribery. Father disdained them, but he had, indeed, given Damian specific permission to accept help from non-Gotham vigilante associates.
Surely Justice League Dark could be counted among Robin’s associates.
Part Two/Part Three/ Part Four/ Part Five/ Part Six/ Part Seven/ Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven
Part One
“This you?”
Danny pushed the newspaper down without looking at it, revealing Sam’s shitty grin. “That lost cat is not me, no.” He rolled his eyes. They had been showing him lost pet ads ever since he got back from Gotham. “Isn’t that joke getting old, guys?” He kicked his way further into a slouch in the booth as Tucker came back with refilled drinks.
Tucker laughed, and then there was a silence. “Danny? Are you sure this isn’t you, man?” He sounded uncertain.
He felt his jaw twitch and he had to tell his friend off. “Is it that funny that there’s a sad kid out there? Honestly, guys-” Danny opened his eyes fully to roll them and then saw the lost pet ad being brandished in his face. He blinked at it. His brain did a full reboot and he reached out to take the paper.
It looked like him, sleeping on the cushion in the batcave. Had they gotten that photo from the security footage? “It’s me.” His voice came out way too high.
Danny pulled the paper over in disbelief and realized that it was a two page ad. “Oh wow,” he said faintly. There he was, leaping across the kitchen. And there, that must have been taken by Damian when he fell asleep on the bed. There was a cat toy partially in the frame.
Sam’s snorting laughter cut off. “Uh.” She kicked him lightly under the table. “Is.. Is that little kid going to be okay?” She asked in a small voice. She sounded like she felt bad for poking fun.
Danny felt guilty. He stared at the evidence that Robin was missing his cat terribly and felt like the biggest jackass possible. “Should I go back?” he wondered. He squirmed, pulling a foot up onto the bench to perch on. “I mean… How long does a cat live? A few years?”
“Try about twenty,” Tucker said flatly. “I feel bad too, man, but you can’t defer admission that long.”
“Though Snitches was clearly not a little kitten, so you could really just give it a couple years,” Sam mused. Both boys stared at her. She blinked. “Not that I’m suggesting you do that!” She waved her hands at them. “The longer you stay with him, the harder he’s going to take it when his pet ‘dies’,” she said with finger quotes. “You did the right thing by leaving as soon as you could.”
“Maybe we could answer it, do a photoshoot, tell him that Danny was your cat or something and he’s come home,” Tucker mused. “He’d be sad that he couldn’t have the cat, but surely it would be better than worrying the cat died, right?”
“What are you losers talking about?” Star said, giving their booth a wide berth. “You’re not hurting cats now, are you, weirdos?” She eyed them like they were gross. “It would figure.”
“Fuck off,” Sam said pleasantly. All three of them gave Star a rude gesture in unison, just like they had practiced. “That shit’s uncalled for.”
Star sniffled and turned away on her heel, cheer skirt flouncing behind her. A few moments later she clearly reached her table because the sounds of popular kid conversation got a lot louder.
“She should be a reporter,” Sam said darkly. “I would love for her to get sued for slander.” She snapped open her clutch and began applying even more black eyeliner, as if that would differentiate her from the other girls in the restaurant.
Tucker groaned and pulled his hat down over his eyes in despair. “That’s gonna be a bad rumor,” he complained.
Danny couldn’t find it in him to care as much as he usually would. He was still stuck on the fact that Damian had put an ad in the Illinois Times. “Do you think he realized that Snitches got on a highway bus to Illinois?” he hissed, now aware that other people might be listening in. “How would he know that?”
Sam frowned. Tucker lifted his head and pulled out his phone to search. “That’s a good question,” he said to himself. He hit buttons rapidly. “Uh, same ad is in…” He trailed off. “Hold up, hold up, lemme search this backwards…” Whatever he saw had him raise his eyebrows high, look at Danny in disbelief, and then shake his head slightly. “You must be a really good cat. I'm kind of jealous.”
“What?” Danny hissed. “Just tell me.”
“Hey, hey, paws off.” Tucker moved his device further away. “Uh, this poor kid- well.” He paused. “Poor is the wrong word. He’s put ads in newspapers all the way up to Ontario and down to… Well, in Mexico at least.”
Danny and Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking with us,” Sam said after a long moment.
Tucker silently shook his head. “There’s a nationwide Greg’s list ad,” he said grimly. “20 dollars an hour to print and staple missing cat photos to telephone poles. And a private detective’s agency on the case, asking for witnesses to come forward.”
Danny put his head in his hands. “I have to go back,” he said, haunted by the responsibility. “I can’t let him be this sad.”
“Danny, no.” Tucker said. Sam nodded her agreement.
“…Yeah, that’s crazy,” he said unconvincingly. He gave a fake laugh. “He’ll get over it.” Danny stared into his drink, watching bubbles. Robin was not going to get over it. That kid loved hard.
“I could use 20 dollars an hour,” Tucker said in a thoughtful tone.
“No,” Sam said flatly.
Tucker shrugged, smiling slightly. “I wonder how much I’d get for bringing you back.” He shrugged theatrically. “You could send me to college, man! Don’t you want me to go to college?”
“No…” Danny said weakly. “I… Is that fraud?” Still. Money would be nice.
“Guys, no.” Sam knocked them both in the head with the pile of napkins. “You can’t do that to this little kid. He’s clearly not well.”
“Exactly,” Tucker argued passionately. “Imagine how happy he would be to get his cat back! We could reunite him with his pet!”
It was tempting. He felt, like, so bad about how sad Robin was. The little guy had been so proud of his pet. Danny could spare a few years to make a little kid happy, right? It was kind of greedy otherwise.
Danny stared at the bubbles in his drink again, really thinking it over. “I think I would have to fight crime with him,” he said dully. “That’s a minus.”
“Danny?” Sam rapped the table with her fingers. He looked up to see her pointed eyebrow raise. “What are you talking about?”
He hunched his shoulders up. “Nothing, nothing,” he lied hastily. He forgot they didn’t know. He couldn’t dox someone’s crime fighting identity, though, it would be really unfair.
“You could buy me a house,” Tucker wheedled. Sam hit him.
“Good news, asshole.” Jason sat up in a cold sweat and grabbed the knife under his pillow. That did diddly squat, since Tim had hijacked a speaker somewhere in his apartment and his faint voice was taunting him.
“Get off my phone!” Jason snarled and picked his phone up to spam the end call button optimistically. He didn’t really think that was where the sound was coming from but give him a goddamn break, he was tired.
Tim tsked, as if calling a phone was such an amateur move that he would never be caught dead using it. “Pay attention," he condescended, and Jason suddenly remembered what it felt like to want the little twerp dead. He hoisted himself out of bed and grimly hunted for whatever bit of tech had formed a weak point in his fortress. “I got a hit- two calls on Danny Fenton’s phone early this morning in quick succession with a sketchy billionaire. Five minutes later, said billionaire made a reservation in Gotham and then a reservation for a driver to pick up a guest from the university campus.”
“A sketchy billionaire? Is it you or B?” Jason snarked. He put his ear to the bluetooth speaker to see if that’s where Tim’s voice was coming from.
“Haha,” he said blithely. Not the bluetooth. Jason went hunting into the bathroom for the source. “Vlad Masters, turns out that he’s Fenton’s godfather but they have a very weird relationship and there are some comments on social media about the two of them being co-parents.”
Jason’s stomach roiled. He stopped hunting for Tim to pull out his phone and search Vlad Masters. He pursed his lips. “Distasteful,” he said. There was nothing wrong with the way Masters looked, except that he looked smug in every photo and he was obviously waaaay too old for either Fenton sibling. It was probably some gross in-joke.
“They’re going to have dinner tonight, an intimate two-person table at La Crux,” Tim said, insinuation thick.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Do you think I know what that place is?” he snarked. He put his phone away and scowled around the living room. Tim’s voice was clearer now. Was it coming from the kitchen?
Tim sighed heavily. “Very exclusive, very expensive, only accepts diners in groups of two and is therefore considered a date spot.”
“Gross,” Jason muttered. He scraped the top of his tongue with his teeth. “So, what, you think Fenton is cozying up to a sugar daddy to get his shitty Crime Alley rent paid?” He let doubt color his tone. “That kid does not live like someone with a rich older boyfriend.”
“Maybe Masters is just a gigantic asshole,” Tim said placidly, and Jason honed in on the source of his voice with outrage and disbelief. “In any case I will be there, I’ve gotten a reservation and paid through the nose for the right table-”
“Why are you in my smart fridge?” Jason demanded. He hit it with the flat of his hand. “Get the fuck out of my fridge, you demon. I deny thee entry and succor.”
Tim sighed again, like he was the one inconvenienced. “You’re welcome,” he said waspishly, and hung up. Jason’s phone chimed a second later with the details of the reservation and then his batwork phone synched up with a mission. Jason squinted at the words 'Surveillance. Leads: Red Robin and Black Bat.’ He snorted. “Is the little shit going as himself with his sister, or are they going undercover as a couple?” he wondered. Whatever. He didn’t really care.
Hours later, Jason half-watched the screen fill up with an imperfect, machine transcription of the conversation that Masters and Fenton were having. It wasn’t great but given the difficulty Tim was having in accessing Fenton’s technology, maybe they should just be grateful that Cass and Tim were able to get anything at all. They weren’t close enough to hear, and only had the line of sight to lip read Masters.
Jason’s first impression of the relationship between Fenton and Masters was that they obviously didn’t like each other. If Fenton was pretending to like Masters for access to his money he was doing a terrible job of it.
He all but heard Tim go stiff as a board when Fenton clearly noticed him. Jason stopped working to watch the transcription struggle with static and dropped words, eyebrows high with his delight that Tim and Cass had gotten made by some clueless teenager who didn’t even recognize them properly.
The machine transcription had to be full of inaccuracies, but it made Jason snicker anyways. Tim made an offended noise when he realized that Fenton didn’t know his name. Bit full of himself, wasn’t he?
Whatever. Jason yawned and re-focused his eyes off of the screen onto what his hands were doing.
“Dead husband?” Tim said quietly. “Hood, did you see anything about a husband?”
‘Fenton is gay?’ Jason thought, intrigued. And then- “No.” He snorted. “It’s obviously banter of some kind.” He sniffed.
“Fenton is brat,” Black Bat said into the comms. “Ha ha.” She reported this emotionlessly. “Thinks concept of dead husband is humorous.” Ah, no, disapproval crept into her tone there.
Jason hummed, not really listening as attentively as he might. He was sitting sidestraddle on the workbench at the mechanic shop, cleaning some tools.
‘Fenton is not married,’ he thought idly. ‘I would have found something when I looked into the family. Or else Jack would have told me. It’s an inside joke or code.’
Tim sighed too hard, sending static on the line. “Thomas Dank,” he repeated incredulously. Silverware clinked as he no doubt ate mechanically in his attempt to play-act as a real boy. He fake-laughed at something Cass did.
Wait, what? Jason’s lips twitched. Had that transcription been right? Did Danny Fenton think that Tim’s name was Thomas Dank? He stopped moving to let a sense of childlike wonder wash over him.
‘Not a bad fit. Tim is a little shit. I’m glad I fed this guy. Fenton deserves funding. All Fentons deserve funding. I’m going to make WayneTech give infinite contracts to the Doctor to fund more Ghost-Huggers and those translation devices that put everything a ghost says into Cantonese.”’
Jason felt his mood perk up a little bit. Tim and Cass were obviously unimpressed, but personally? Jason thought that Danny Fenton was a funny little shit.
And then Fenton insinuated that Vlad was a pretentious pervert and so were the Wayne kids. Jason put his tools down to cackle, shaking his head. A beep cut across the line– and then nothing. Silence.
“Wow,” he said to the open air. “They cut me off of the call.” Jason was still snickering as he got ready for patrol. He had part of Black Bat’s route tonight, since she and Red Robin were doing an early operation. Batman swooped into his personal business while he was at it and gestured for Red Hood to talk.
Jason took his time finishing up with his task and then sauntered over as saucily as possible so that any observers knew he didn’t take orders from Batman. “Old man,” he greeted.
“Hood.” Batman sounded impassive but it was a lie. Bruce was roiling with big Bat Feelings as he gave Jason a look-over. “You are aware that Jeremy Waters escaped from custody this morning?” At Jason’s nod he grunted. “I have confirmed the whereabouts of his followers. I do not believe that any of them are involved in his escape. I have had one woman sent out of state.”
Jason wracked his memory for someone who stood out. “…The old woman who threw pink Himalayan salt on me?” He guessed.
Batman’s ears bobbed with a nod. “Merrian Pip. Yes. She is secured in a private location.” He cleared his throat while Jason wondered why that person, in specific, merited Bat Protection. He narrowed his eyes and internally debated the merits of asking vs doing some snooping.
Batman saw the question. He clearly did. Batman prised his jaw open and ground out the words, “I believe that Ms. Pip is the source of the magical power required to actually remove you from the scene.”
Jason felt his eyebrows shoot up. “No way,” he said, thinking it through. “How else would he leave Arkham?” Despite his automatic rejection he started thinking it through.
‘My first theory was that he summoned a ghost that helped him escape. What if someone sent the ghost to retrieve him? Or even kill him? He might know too much, or maybe there is a power play for the coven.’
Batman grunted. “Undetermined.”
Jason frowned. The hood hid his displeasure, which was a real shame. “Alright, fuck off,” he requested. “I don’t want anyone to see us talking.”
“Hrmph.” His shitty Dad left in a whoosh of cape, which was a significant improvement on all the times he had imposed himself past when he was wanted. Hmm. He noted the progress, but wasn’t touched enough to change his mind. Jason wasted no time at all to start opening up Bruce’s files on the case.
“...Suspicious.” He sprawled on the roof and read through the reports. They were too short. Jason felt a scowl coming on. There was the expected demographic information, and a report on the day and time that Batman had interviewed her. But where were the details of the conversation? Why had she gone into hiding? Where was she? How had Bruce concluded that she was the powerful one?
The inescapable conclusion was that Bruce was deliberately hiding information from him. Jason needed to know what that was.
His knees cracked when he stood up, which was the sort of indignity that happened to people who routinely jumped off of high buildings. “I have to hunt the Batman,” Jason said ominously. He paused. “…That's kind of nostalgic.”
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