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.
masterpost please no editing or concrit, I literally cannot get my brain to read over my own work right now to edit ;-;
Constantine drains half a bottle of water before he starts talking. “These people were batshit, but they were smart. Dangerous fuckers. Never seen tech work with magic and other realms like this. Can’t be confident that absolutely everything is shut down, but no one should just… trip on their face into the realm of the dead.”
“I… well, that’s good, I guess,” Barry says with a blink.
Bart feels a little sorry for him. Barry, who’s totally crash with most stuff, still really struggles with magic and things. Danny has helped that, but, like, it’s an uphill race. Bart’s leg jiggles faster with impatience.
He was banished to the corner of the break room when he arrived and told to sit and hush. Which, like, is okay. He can do that. For a bit. He’s just there waiting for the go ahead to zip off and bring the rest of the team to the site. The site being called safe is a big step that way. The adorable blob he was handed when he sat made what Bart had to guess was a happy warble as they jiggled.
(Maybe Barry would let them keep one, as long as Bart and Danny promised to take care of it.)
“We believe that all should continue to travel in duos or trios,” Dianna says. Bart can’t help but straighten up. Dianna just sort of commands that. When she fixes him with a stare he almost wilts though. “I would also suggest that our younger members travel with more senior members.”
Bart waited a beat, and then says, “But we can be around then.”
“I don’t think that was the take away from that, Impulse,” Barry says. He looks like he just bit into one of Wally’s extra hot burritos by mistake.
Bart shrugs. “It’s what I took from it.”
“I am sure that Robin will feel the same,” Bruce says, all dark and brooding like. “All Young Justice members must be accompanied by at least two Justice League members. And there will be no going into the main lab until both the Dark team and Afterimage feel like it is right to do so, is that understood?”
Bart nods quickly. “Yep, I mean yes. Can I go get them then?”
Bruce gave a long pause. Bart’s leg jiggles. “Flashes, go with Impulse to bring Young Justice. The break room will do.”
“Yes,” Bart hisses and he’s off.
Then back.
He carefully sets the ghost back into one of the paper boxes with the others.
“I, um… forgot,” he mumbles, and then he’s really off. He comes to a screeching stop in the Young Justice Lair™. Tim is, of course, at the computer. Kon, Cassie, and Danny are at the table, and Cassie is mid some sort of story about the siege and Danny looks at least not 100% miserable. “Hey guys! So, me and”—Barry and Wally come to a stop slightly more elegantly— “them are going to take you to the site. We have to stay with an adult, and I think they’re going to keep us in a break room, but like…”
“Will they tell us more about what’s going on?” Danny asks, now looking 100% miserable.
“Or at least let me look for Technus in their main server?” Tim asks, without looking up from the computer.
“Um,” Bart says helplessly, “maybe?”
“Robin, you’ll have to talk to Batman about that,” Barry says, “but helping Technus is one of our goals today. Afterimage, yes. You’re one of our most informed heroes on this, your knowledge will be helpful. But we need to make sure that you stay safe while we all work. That includes taking breaks when you need to.”
“I’m not a hero,” Danny mumbles.
“Maybe not right now,” Barry agrees, “but you’re family. We’re here for you, and we want you safe.”
“We’ll look out for you too,” Kon says. His voice is softer than Bart is used to, smaller somehow.
Danny gives Kon a shaky smile.
“Okay,” Wally says with a clap of his hands. “Robin, I’ll come back and grab you after we take the others. Have whatever tech you need to help Technus ready to go.”
Tim gives a little wave of confirmation.
Bart, who’s smoothest, takes Danny, who is still new to traveling this way. Wally gives a sweeping bow to Cassie, who rolls her eyes, but lets Wally pick her up. This leaves Kon for Bart. Bart holds out his arms with a grin. Kon sighs, but uses enough TTK for Bart to ‘pick’ Kon up and zip off after the others. When they come to a stop in the break room, Kon hops down the same way he does in battle. It’s like he expects the copy machine to bite him or something.
(Considering where they are, Bart figures that’s not exactly out of the question.)
“Emotional support blob delivery!” Dick calls as he saunters in.
“What?” Cassie asks.
“Emotional support blob. I’m totally giving a box to Dinah for therapy reasons,” Wally answers.
Barry opens his mouth and then closes it as he considers it. “Not a bad idea, hold that thought.” And then Barry is off to get Tim.
“Blobs?” Cassie asks. She picks one of them out of the paper box Dick is holding. It hangs from her hands, slowly oozing down towards the ground.
“They’re, um, they’re basically emotionally charged ectoplasm,” Danny says. He’s standing with his back up against the wall, watching them all. “Ectoplasm is what makes up the Infinite Realms. Sometimes if there’s a emotional high in an area or if a ghost is ended, they form in that ectoplasm and coalesce into the little guys. They’ve got about the same sort of mental processing as a frog.”
Cassie tilts her head to follow as the eyes of the blob slip down to the bottom. “Do their eyes always shift like that?”
Danny shrugs. “Yeah, sorta. They’re not as… formed because a ghost’s form is just latent memory of who they used to be or want to be or are within death. The blobs ghosts don’t have that. Sorta the same as will-o-wisps and stuff.”
“Weird,” Cassie says. “Like, cute, but weird.”
The non-speedsters (except for Danny), all rock slightly in the breeze as Barry reappears with Tim.
“Which way is B?” Tim asks, right down to business.
Dick has to get in Tim’s way to stop him from wandering off. Dick places a hand on Tim’s chest. “Nope baby bird! You’re staying right here in kiddy jail, okay?”
“Not, not okay,” Tim says. “I have to try and fix Technus. Have you found a central computer? Where is it?”
“Just wait, okay? Once we have everything secure, we can deal with that,” Wally says.
Bart frowns at him. “Constantine said it was!”
“He said the building was,” Barry says. He squeezes Bart’s shoulder. “But you know that’s not the only things to worry about in a rescue operation.”
Bart glances to Danny, then quickly down at the ground. “I, right.”
“Who… who have you found?” Danny asks. His voice breaks around the words.
“Not everyone is sticking around to give names,” Dick says. He gets close enough to hand Danny a blob ghost. He clutches it tightly ad Dick continues. “There are a few yeti. Some amazonians, Wonder Woman is furious about that one. She’s heading to talk with them. Green Lantern is trying to get a list of the others since this is a cross realm issue. There’s one ghost that is helping a lot, she’s a lunch lady.”
Danny sucks in a sharp breath. “Does she… is there… is Boxy with her? I, um, he’s in overalls and a knit cap.”
“I, yeah, I think I saw him with her,” Barry says.
“Okay, that’s good.” Danny’s shoulders drop so suddenly that that he wavers on his feet. Kon steps forward to help steady him with an arm around Danny’s shoulder. “I, um, I can help identify the ghosts, not all of them, but a lot. The yetis are friends and I trained with the amazons. And others were… rogues, I guess? But they were just being ghosts. Like Boxy. He just… he’s the box ghost. He likes to collect boxes.”
“I’ll make sure to bring him one of the paper boxes, okay?” Barry offers. He’s using his talking to victims voice. “We might take you up on that, and I know that you probably want to see them, but some of them are in rough shape, and we want to give them some time to rest.”
In other words, Barry doesn’t want them to see the gore of it all. Bart doesn’t know if Danny gets what Barry is really saying, but Danny nods anyways. “You’ve at least… all of the… everything is stopped, right?”
“There is one that seems in a stasis, but the ghost isn’t in any harm that we can tell. We’ve left the computers on for Technus,” Wally says. “That one we will need your help on, okay?”
Danny nods again, slowly.
“Well then!” Barry stands with his hands on his hips. “I’ll bring some waters and snacks, but settle in. And yes, Robin, I’ll talk to Batman about getting you into the system, alright?”
“You all enjoy the blobs,” Dick says. “I’ll get a box to Boxy, and then check on how settled everyone is. Like Flash said, just have a seat, okay?”
“Yep, we can do that!” Bart chirps and put on his best smile. Kon lets out a soft snort, but Bart just ignores him. He holds his smile until all of the adults leave. “Right. Sorry that they’re really not letting us go anywhere yet…”
“You’d think they’d trust us of all groups in evil labs,” Cassie says. She throws herself into a seat, blob ghost held up over her head. It rotates slowly like some weird lava lamp.
“Why would they do that?” Danny asks.
“Because of me,” Kon says simply. He guides Danny over to one of the chairs, doing that mother hen things he does sometimes to Tim. “The pretty much raided the lab I was in and save my ass from a life of serving a megalomaniac billionaire.”
“The billionaire to evil lab pipeline is real. My godfather had one. He cloned me,” Danny says concernedly. “They took him too. He’s like me. Was like me. I’m pretty sure they ended him.”
The silence after was pretty awkward. Bart was glad Kon broke it. “What happened to clone?”
“Most of them destabilized, turned into ecto,” Danny says, squeezing the blob ghost in his hands. “One survived, I’m hoping that she’s still out there somewhere. He had more still in tube but not… you know, people yet? They used the bodies for tests.”
“Oh.” Bart sat on the edge of the table. “I’m sorry.”
Dick couldn't say he was in a particularly good mood when he got to the station, actually he was feeling pretty sour. The night before had been rough. Patrol pretty much went south that night after the comms went down. It normally wouldn't be much of a problem but then Damian got ambushed and fell down a sewer grate and nobody could find the kid for several hours. He was fine of course and he made those robbers wish they had chosen better career paths but having to make sure Bruce didn't strangle every crook that stood in his path to death while trying to find the little demon was more tiring than any world altering threat he ever faced.
This was the third time in the past week that the comms cut out. And after it's over, its as if nothing was ever wrong. Babs and Tim were pulling their hair out trying to figure out what could possibly be causing it but so far there were no leads that they haven't followed already and it was starting to look like switching to a new comms system wouldn't fix anything. As far as they could tell? Some sort of magic. But every magic user they knew claimed to have no part in it and when they tried to reverse whatever it was, they said there was nothing going on that they could reverse.
Either way, Dick maybe got a half an hour of sleep before he got called in to deal with one of his cases he was working with. He didn't really know much yet, all he really knew was that a woman's husband went missing and she was acting as though she knew more than she was letting on. Others in the station think she did it but he had asked to talk to her about it before coming to his own conclusion. What he wasn't expecting was the moment he said that, they dragged her out of her home for an interrogation and now he was rushing to the office to try to make sure she didn't sue for malpractice.
"She's in the room already Detective Grayson," he heard an officer say as he pushed his way through the precinct. He couldn't even begin to imagine the damage they might have caused. If she really did know something there was no way she was going to come clean about it now. And if she was innocent, there was a chance that this could have traumatized her more than before. Not to mention if she made a complaint about the treatment.
"I will handle her myself. We will be talking about this later Carl," he said before putting on a pleasant face to step inside. If there was one thing he learned from being Boy Wonder, it was how to smile when shit just hit the fan. And it very much just did.
Dick made his way to his seat, pulling out his chair and taking a seat. As of yet, he wasn't positive what her demeanor was so hopefully he could just play it off. He hadn't even gotten a chance to open the case file to look it over again. Which... he might as well do that now...
"Mrs...." he looked at the file. Oh yeah, he forgot this was the lady with the obviously fake name. Not a single goth woman in the world didn't know about the works of Edward Gorey. He's heard Jason rave about his books and his take on psychological horror, "Gorey. I'm sure you know why your here."
He looked up from the file to see her roll her eyes. It had been about a week since he had last seen her but... he couldn't help but take a good look at her. A product of training with Bruce for so long maybe. But he did. He took in the details.
She was a beautiful woman. That much didn't take effort to deduce. He may have been a detective but he was also a man. Her face was slender, her jaw sharp and her cheekbones high. She wore heavy makeup, a pale base with intricate, expertly done eyeliner and shadow, and a black lip with purple shimmer. It was smudged a bit, Dick guessed from the officers being more rough with her than they really needed to be. The purple in her lip brought out the natural color of her eyes. At first Dick assumed them to be contacts but no, those were naturally purple eyes. He had never seen anything like it and the first time they had met, he was taken aback by how beautifully haunting they looked. Like they held something inside that was far more ancient than the young woman in front of him.
She was dressed head to toe in black, lace adorning her neck and arms into bell sleeves that complimented her black corset decorated with subtle purple embellishments that made it shine. Her skirt was several layers of flowing fabrics, a black lacy belt on top of it all. Her body may have been remarkably small compared to other women he took notice in but he couldn't fault her for being slightly sickly when her file clearly stated she was chronically ill after some sort of incident that he couldn't quite find records on.
"You think I had something to do with my husband's disappearance," she replied, her voice calm, "You think I killed him."
Dick just studied her for a moment. It was sentences like that one that made others in the precinct think it was her. They didn't tell her anything about the fact that they believe he might have been murdered. Although given that look in her eye, he supposed it was something she could have deduced easily. This woman was smart. That, he could plainly see. Maybe that was what made him want to keep looking at her. She looked like she was reading him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Just as he was doing with her. There was definitely some PR training of some sort within her, as her face gave away nothing he could use against her. But it also meant he couldn't do anything for her. He was going to have to change tactics.
After a moment, he ran a hand through his hair, putting on an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, let's start over. My name is Detective Grayson. I'll be conducting the investigation on your husband's disappearance. I just had a couple of questions about what you remember and any details that you can provide that might help me move forward."
Dick watched as her lips curled into a smile, "Of if that's all you need, of course I'm happy to help. For a moment I was worried I was being charged with something." She was playing dumb. He could work with that for the moment but eventually he was going to have to wear her down at least a little. Because it was obvious from her demeanor that she knew something that she didn't want him to know. Unfortunately for her however, he was trained by someone far more efficient than any one in this police department.
"I'm sorry you were misled, what led you to that conclusion," he asked, leaning back in his chair to try and seem relaxed and unthreatening. If he could catch her in a lie, it would be much easier than having to watch her movements later on. He doubted she would take the bait, especially considering there was a lot of valid things to lead her to the conclusion that she was being seen as a suspect.
The woman shrugged, "Oh nothing. Just being cuffed to a table. And one of your officers took my cane." She held up her arms, her wrists getting snagged when the chains ran out of slack. She kept her face controlled but Dick could practically feel how smug she was internally. He had pretty much set her up for that one, albeit unintentionally. She was smart. Where most would have faltered, their minds drawing a blank when their guilt makes them unable to tell what they can say, she found a way to spin it on him. Which led back to that lawsuit problem he was trying to avoid.
Dick's face slipped a little. There was a camera in the room and the words were aid out loud. This was gonna be on a tape that the court might review later. Any sign that he personally had any sort of animosity with her could lead to a mistrial before he got a chance to say anything at all. A wave of guilt washed over him, taking a look at her restraints. He wasn't aware her chronic condition involved the need for a mobility aid. If it was true that they took it from her, that was sure cause for a lawsuit.
"I wasn't aware of your disability, I apologize for how my officers have treated you," he finally relented, waving a hand to the fake mirror behind him. He needed to fix the situation immediately while making it clear he did not ask them to do that, to build a rapport with her. Moments later, an officer was walking in with a set of keys and her cane.
The officer quickly unlocked her wrists, though it was obvious he wasn't happy about it. Dick was going to have to have a talk with him later. He watched as Mrs. Gorey graciously accepted her cane, leaning it against the table where she could easily access it, "Oh don't worry about me, tensions were high and I'm sure I wasn't as nice as I could have been." Dick would have almost disappointed if she hadn't put up a fight. That fire in her eyes was unmistakable.
He nodded, pretending to just accept her answer, "Is it alright if I go ahead and ask you a couple of questions then? I don't want to take up too much of your time. Which was true. Trying to keep her here for too long would be detrimental to the department if she were to file a suit. But on the flip side, he wanted some questions answered while she was here so that he could at least get some idea of what they were working with. When officers originally answered the 911 call, he had been off duty and he wasn't handed the case until after the fact, which he wasn't happy about.
Mrs. Gorey smiles sweetly, "Oh of course! Take all the time you need, I've got nowhere to be."
Dick could tell from the tightness in her jaw that was in fact not the case. She was probably in a hurry. But wherever it was she was trying to go, she had no plans of telling him about it. Which of course only made Dick more intrigued by the case.
He gave her a smile, and he knew that she knew he could see through her to an extent. But there was something he was missing and that part was what she was keeping locked up behind her mask. He could see her playful smirk behind her kind smiles, her gaze scanning him for answers he wasn't going to give her either.
"Well I feel like we should start from the beginning. I apologize, I know you've been over this already with the officers from the scene but I want to hear it from you rather than draw conclusions from a piece of paper," he explained, making sure he had on his best smile.
That was the moment her mask broke slightly, a real genuine pain on her face, "Yeah- of course we can go over it again. Do you want me to start at the beginning? When I reported him missing?"
Dick nodded.
Mrs. Gorey took a slightly shaky breath before she looked down at her hands, "Well... it was a few days ago. When I called. He just... never came home and I guess I got tired of waiting for him to come back." Dick watched as she refused to make eye contact, fidgeting with her wedding ring. She was obviously keeping some key details to herself but she was playing the part of a concerned wife well. And part of the pain in her eyes was real as far as he could tell. But not the uncertainty. She knew what happened, she just couldn't say.
Luckily for her, he was willing to work with that, "I see. Can you tell me why your husband left the house in the first place? Was there a fight or someplace specific he was going to?" He kept his voice gentle, hoping to coax some information out of her.
“D-um Bill left a lot. It wasn't because he didn't love me or because of fighting. It was just something he had to do and I understood. Sometimes he would be gone for a few days but he always came back. This time- it had been over a week so I guess I just assumed something must have gone wrong," she sighed.
Dick thought about that. She wasn't lying and that accounted for why it took so long for her to report him missing but that left more questions unanswered. Like why it was that he left so often if not because of marital disputes or why she very obviously stumbled over his name. Of course, he couldn't ask about the name thing yet, they didn't have enough of a rapport. But he could at least try to get more information about where he might have been going.
He took a moment to write down what she had said into his personal notes in the margins of the file before looking back up at her, "Did he say anything about his plans before he left?"
Mrs. Gorey's face changed to one of a bittersweet smile, "No, after I got hurt, he stopped telling me about it so he wouldn't worry me. He knew if he told me too much I would want to go with him and that doesn't really work given how I can't even walk without my cane anymore. He knew that the pain wouldn't take the fight out of me."
After the words left her mouth the room got a bit cold. Dick didn't mention it but he did take note of it. And how she looked over her shoulder for a moment as if she had seen something. She recovered from it quickly, acting as though she never saw anything. Which meant it was something he was going to have to circle back to. What he was more interested in was the mention of fighting. She spoke almost as if they were involved in something dangerous.
"Can I ask what you mean by fight? Is it related to how you got hurt," he asked.
"I'm not allowed to talk about that. It should be in my file." Mrs. Gorey's face clouded over, her walls back up. He believed her. But the problem was, it was in fact not in her file.
"I'm sorry, but I really shouldn't answer anything else..." she said as she carefully pulled herself to a stand, leaning on the table for support until she could grab her cane.
This was all he was going to get from her. Clearly he was going to have to do some research before asking her anything else. Something bigger was going on here and he was going to have to figure out what that was. But she wasn't going to give it to him and there was no reason to keep her here legally.
"Of course, I'm sorry. It seems our files are incomplete at the moment," he said, giving her an apologetic smile as he stood as well to help her. He reached his hand out so she could get her balance but before she could stop herself Dick noticed how she shied away from the physical contact. He put his hand back down.
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.
This is why Pride is not just a party. It's a joyful celebration, but it's also a pointed and colourful two-finger salute to a world that stood back whilst so many of us died. And we'll never go quietly, never again.
Bruce being like that one teacher who hates/mistrusts you because they've taught your older sibling. Jon comes over to hang out with Damian all the time and that's OK but when they started dating, Bruce was on watch from the outset because he experienced Kon. It doesn't matter that Jon is Jon, there will be no funny business.
John: Love. Love. You have to come pick me up. Quickly. Please.
Zatanna: What? But I thought you got along with Bruce.
John: I do! But normally, I have access to my magic when I'm on a loony adventure with Bruce. Normally, I can portal out when things get scary! Please, you have to come get me.
Zatanna: John, I can't go pick you up. I'm traveling the world to find the ingredients to lift your curse.
John: I know the plan was for me to stay with Bruce so he and his family could protect me while you broke my Magic-sealing curse, but Zatanna... these people are weird. I don't feel safe.
Zatanna: Is this because Bruce said you're not allowed to drink in his home? You can go to bars-
John: No. Its not the drinking or the smoking or the awkward crush I have on Bruce and his butler-
Zatanna: What?
John: Zatanna, it's the Ghost King posing as a child. He calls Bruce "Dad" because Bruce adopted him! And Bruce has no idea!
Zatanna doubtful: The Ghost King? The most feared individual in the multiverse is posing as Bruce's kid without Bruce's knowledge? The same Bruce that used Math to beat a god half a year ago?
John: I tried to tell him, but Bruce just laughed and said Danny was his only civilian child. He won't listen to me! None of them will!
Zatanna: Uh-huh. And how old is this Danny?
John: He claims his only fourteen but I know better.
Zatanna: What does he look like?
John: Like the face of evil.
Zatanna: Let me guess. Evil has dark black hair, and blue eyes with a tragic backstory that just needed a safe place to call home?
John: Yes but-
Zatanna: Look, I'm really busy right now. I have to haggle the soul of a never-touched-by-sunlight shrimp from a mermaid merchant- who I know is trying to cheat me!- and I don't have time to listen to you freak out about one of the Waynes kids.
John: No! No you're not listening! He's the Ghost King!
Zatanna: He's a Wayne. That bloodline and anyone adopted into that bloodline, are weird but harmless.
John: Please pick me up. Save me.
Zatanna: John, I can't. Treat this as a vacation. Bruce will let you spend whatever money you want, and since its Bruce, I'll give you permission to try to get him in a throuple with us or just you for a little fun.
John: .....I want that so much but Danny-
Zatanna: Is harmless. Bruce comes with kids, and yeah, all his kids are weird, especially that first one. I don't trust his bubbly personality- I know there is rage underneath that circus upbeat boyish glee. Terrible rage. But that doesn't mean you're in danger there.
John: Zatanna please- *gasp* The Ghost King is watching me from the upstairs window. He's knows im trying to escape.
Zatanna: Are you outside? Good! Go for a walk. Bruce has a lovely forest surrounding his Manor-
John: A walk?! In the woods!? Where the Ghost King can get me alone!? Do you want me to vanish with a trace!?
Zatanna sighing: Nevermind.
Mermaid: I don't have all day. I have other customers and a business to run. Are you giving me your hair or not?
Zatanna: I got to go John.
John: No! PLEASE! Z, PICK ME UP-
Zatanna hanging up and pointing at the mermaid: For the last time I am not shaving my head!
Mermaid: Do you want the soul of a shrimp that has never seen sunlight or not!?
Zatanna: That is not worth ten years of growing out this amount of hair! I can give you my bangs.
Mermaid: Bangs!? Those aren't bangs- they're barely long enough to cover that whale-sized forehead!
Why? Pick your poison, but Dani ends up having to take care of her "older" brother... while homeless... and traveling... and surviving by stealing food.
That's when another hero finds a twelve-year-old trying to figure out how to change a super-powered baby boy's diaper in a dark alley, and comes to some obvious (and some not-so-obvious) conclusions.
They go after the most vulnerable and marginalized. Trans people, kids on SNAP, single moms, old people. They’ll work their way to the rest of us bit by bit if we don’t stop them
The Spear in the Others heart is the Spear in your own, you are he. There is no other wisdom and no other hope but that we grow wise - Diane Duane
Jazz Fenton is not blind to her social reputation in the ever-evolving food chain of Lemures Middle School.
Why would she be?
She’s curated it since the second grade, when she was sick and tired of being picked on by her classmates for reasons involving her parents’ occupations, and the teachers wouldn’t help her. Just like they wouldn’t — and didn’t — help Danny.
It was armor for herself. Fighting back physically or verbally wouldn’t do anything, since she already knew the teachers wouldn’t take her side. She’d seen it happen to the other kids that were disliked like she was. She was at a natural disadvantage that her other classmates were free from.
Fighting openly only got people in bigger trouble and their tormentors more ammo.
So she took the opposite approach. The “kill em with kindness” approach.
Make everyone like her to the point they won’t feel the need to be mean to her anymore.
If that fails, make enough friends that any of her enemies will risk tanking their own reputation trying to cross her.
And, quite smugly, Jazz is happy to say it worked.
This is all to say—
Jazz knows she’s popular. Very popular. And while she couldn’t care less about the “celebrity rankings” that followed around everyone like a stain, that didn’t mean she didn’t know she was solidly in the “S-List” in the eyes of most everyone else.
(A list that her baby brother’s “popular” bullies will never even touch, on account that they’re only popular because they’re mean and have the backing of the teachers.)
(As opposed to Jazz herself and all the other S-List kids, who were popular because they’re nice to everyone and had the backings of the teachers to boot.)
It suited her just fine.
It meant she got away with everything, could talk to anybody regardless of their own social standing, and that anybody who cared about the rankings would listen to just about anything she said, regardless of the request or the reason.
It also meant that she knew just about anything, and everyone told her everything.
Which brought her to her next problem.
“Weston’s creeping again?” Spike asks, frowning as he leans against the wall beside her. His jewelry jangles against his arms pleasantly, and his presence is almost a soothing balm to Jazz’s soul.
Keyword: Almost.
The simmering, protective fury bubbling up inside her chest burns just a liittle too hot to be appeased by anything less than Wes Weston’s weasely little head on a spike.
Jazz promptly pulls her mouth back into a hiss, and spits out a quiet, vitriolic: “Yes.”
Wes Weston: a fourteen year old, ginger-haired boy in Jazz’s 8th grade class that’s been stalking her twelve year old baby brother since the beginning of the academic year. Maybe even before that.
Where Jazz is standing, she has a clear view of Danny and his friends huddled in a little alcove. Danny’s hiding a bruise on his cheek that he couldn’t get to heal fast enough this morning, when an impromptu ghost attack occurred during breakfast.
Jazz had distracted their parents to give him the time to run off, and when she ran into him at the school gate a few minutes ago, she stuffed a few snacks into his hands that she snagged from the pantry. He didn’t get to eat.
He’s leaning into Tucker’s side, some of his curls squishing against his friend’s shoulder, and he’s laughing at something Sam said.
The sight makes Jazz fond beyond words. Danny deserves his pockets of joy, he does so much for the city and never gets acknowledged for it.
What doesn’t make her fond, however, is being able to see the back of Weston’s head, peering around the corner — because Lemures is built strangely and asymmetrically, and Jazz is at a diagonal that allows her a great deal of sight across the quad — and watching her little brother.
There are other students around, coagulating in groups with their friends, but they’re hardly paying him much mind.
There are no teachers. They’re all inside, watching the kids in the gym, waiting to be dismissed for first period.
Jazz digs her nails into her palms and folds her arms into her chest, forcing some sort of pressure on herself so she doesn’t go up behind Weston and drag him to the ground by his stupid hair.
(It’d be the only fight Jazz Fenton would get in, and she has plenty of get-out-of-jail free cards to get away with it. It’d be only a slap on the wrist for her, and utter social death for Wes Weston.)
(All she would have to do is tell the truth anyways: Weston has been stalking her little brother. She has plenty of friends to confirm it for her — they’ve seen it too, both by her asking to snoop on her behalf, and witnessing it themselves independently — and even more willing to lie for her.)
(But if she did that, word would get out. “Danny Fenton has a stalker” would blaze through the grades like a bushfire.)
(It’d reach Danny’s ears, and it’d reach his bullies’ ears too. He’d be horrified and ashamed that something like that was found out, and they’d have material to attack him with.)
It’s a very near thing.
From the corner of her eye, Spike side-eyes her. “Do you want me to get him for you?” He asks, a displeased lilt in his voice.
Jazz’s eyes narrow; she tries to blow up Weston’s head with her gaze alone. “No.” ‘Not yet’ she almost says, because she’s terribly tempted.
Spike’s not as popular as she is, and he’s been in fights before. He can’t get it on his disciplinary record, and she’d need to gag-order him not to tell the teachers why he did it. It’d be a lose-lose all around, and only temporary relief.
She needs to figure out what to do, and fast. She’s been trying to take it slow ever since she found out about Weston’s stalking habit, gathering evidence and witness statements, plotting with her best friends on what to do.
But she’s not sure how much more of it Danny can take.
He’s trying to hide it, but it’s fraying on his mental state. She can tell.
(Jazz is not blind, and there’s a reason she picked up psychology after he died in their HOUSE had his accident. It was to help figure out what was wrong.)
(Like all the times before, it was coming in about as handy as Cassandra’s curse.)
And he has so much to deal with already.
(Jazz peeked into his room once. It was 3am and she woke up sweating from the heater. She’d gone to mess with the thermostat in the hallway, and saw Danny’s glow from beneath his door.)
(She’d laid down flat on the floor to peer underneath, too nervous to actually knock and offer her assistance.)
(They’ve been getting close again ever since Danny told her about dying his powers. But there’s still a glass wall there that Jazz can’t climb yet.)
(She misses the way their relationship used to be, the grief gnaws in the pit of her chest like a gaping wound some nights.)
(But she’d peered under the door one night anyways, and saw him bleeding out across the carpet. Green, viscous, with Danny staring blankly at the ceiling like a corpse.)
(The same way she found him in Mom’s arms the day of his accident. This time, he wasn’t breathing.)
He looks so tired these days when he thinks nobody’s looking. Jazz is always looking out for her baby brother.
So she has to do something soon, before Weston breaks off more of whatever’s left of him.
(Vlad’s doing enough of that already. She’s never forgiven herself for encouraging their family to stay in that house and allowing Masters to get his hands on Danny.)
(She should’ve stayed close. Shouldn’t have left him alone. She wants to snap Vlad’s neck some days.)
(Jazz doesn’t know when she became so violent. Probably around the same time her brother died.)
Her thoughts trail off as she sees Weston shift, tilting to the side — for a fleeting, glorious moment, she thinks he’s going to leave — and reaching into the pocket of his jacket.
He pulls out his phone — Jazz’s stomach twists — and taps his thumb across it briefly. Turning back towards Danny, she catches, even from a distance, the familiar buttons of the camera app.
Dick, over the phone: Alfred quick! How do you make cinnamon rolls and can it be done in 28.5 minutes?
Alfred, on speaker: Hello, Master Dick, oh yes I'm fine, how are you today?
Dick: Alfred please! I don't have time for your sarcasm!
Alfred: I can message you a recipe, though for Mister Danny's health I fear what you need it for. And no, 28.5 minutes is not enough time to make proper cinnamon rolls.
Jason: Why do you need cinnamon rolls in 28.5 minutes?
Dick: Ugh, Danny made cinnamon on Monday, he just texted me asking if there was any left because he had a bad day and could really use a cinnamon roll, but I litterally had just finished eating the last roll when he texted me!
Bruce: Go to the store and buy him one if you're that worried.
Alfred, Dick, and Jason: *gasps*
Alfred: If you believe a store bought cinnamon roll equates to a homemade one, then I raised you wrong.
Dick: Not to mention that Danny will kill me if I brought store bought junk food into this appartment!
Jason: Are you trying to get Dick killed?
Bruce: Its just a cinnamon roll.
Alfred, Dick, and Jason: *louder gasps*
Alfred: Where did I go wrong?
Dick: Just a cinnamon roll? Have you tasted Danny's cinnamon rolls? Of course not or else you wouldn't say that.
Bruce: Actually I've never even met Danny, you just talk about him. A lot.
Alfred: Master Dick, I'm afraid I need to go, I need to have a word with Master Bruce.
Bruce: Oh no.
Jason: Don't worry, I'll film it for you.
*hang up sound*
Dick: Serves him right! . . . Wait what about my cinnamon roll dilemma?!
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
