Wayne Manor — Kitchen → Batcave (Later That Night)
The kitchen is warm.
Quiet.
Normal.
Which is already suspicious.
Danny is perched on a stool, halfway through what looks like his third plate of food.
“…so then the ghost dog chased me through a wall,” he’s saying, gesturing with a fork, “and I chased it back, and then we both got stuck in a doorframe for, like, ten minutes—”
Alfred Pennyworth hums thoughtfully. “An unfortunate architectural limitation.”
“Right?? Finally, someone gets it.”
At the doorway, unseen by Danny—
Batman watches.
Still.
Silent.
Evaluating.
Alfred glances at him once.
A tiny, knowing look.
Danny keeps talking.
“…and yeah, that’s why I don’t phase through moving objects anymore. Static only. Learned that the hard way.”
Batman steps forward.
Danny immediately brightens.
“Oh hey! You’re back.”
“I never left.”
“Wow. Creepy.”
A beat.
“…Accurate,” Danny adds.
Alfred sets down a fresh cup of tea.
“Master Bruce had additional questions, I imagine.”
Danny perks up. “Oh, interrogation round two? Nice. Do I get a score this time?”
Batman ignores that.
“Come with me.”
Danny hops off the stool.
“Cool. Field trip.”
Scene: The Batcave — Main Platform
The cave feels different now.
Quieter.
More focused.
Like it knows something is about to happen.
Danny looks around.
“…Okay, yeah, still cool. Just checking.”
Batman turns to face him fully.
No shadows this time.
No distance.
Direct.
“You said your body isn’t entirely physical.”
Danny nods. “Yep.”
“I want a demonstration.”
Straightforward.
Danny blinks.
“…You could’ve just said that earlier, I would’ve saved, like, twenty minutes of backstory.”
Batman doesn’t respond.
Danny rocks on his heels.
“Okay, uh… how do I—”
He pauses.
Thinking.
“…Alright, heads up,” he says, suddenly more serious. “This might look a little weird.”
Damian, from the shadows above, folds his arms.
“It already does.”
Danny points. “That’s fair.”
A breath.
Then—
Danny closes his eyes.
For a split second—
nothing.
Then everything.
A pulse of cold energy snaps through the cave.
Not explosive.
Not loud.
Just… wrong.
The lights flicker.
The computers glitch.
The air drops in temperature like someone opened a door to somewhere that shouldn’t exist.
Batman doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
But he feels it.
Everyone does.
Danny inhales—
—and changes.
Hair bleaches white in a ripple, like color draining out of it.
Eyes flare open—
glowing, toxic green.
Not reflective.
Not light-catching.
Light-producing.
His clothes shift, black flooding over them, a stark white emblem burning into existence across his chest.
Boots. Gloves. Clean lines. Not fabric—something else.
Energy, maybe.
Memory, maybe.
Power.
He lifts off the ground.
Just a few inches.
Effortless.
Silent.
Where Danny Fenton stood—
something other now hovers.
Not human.
Not entirely.
Not safe to categorize.
Damian’s grip tightens on the railing.
“…What.”
Batman’s voice is very quiet.
“…Not a metahuman.”
Danny—no, something Danny-shaped—tilts his head.
When he speaks, there’s an echo under his voice.
Soft.
Layered.
“Ta-da?”
He looks down at himself.
“Okay, wow, I always forget how dramatic this part is.”
Batman steps closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Predator approaching something that might also be a predator.
“Explain.”
Danny shrugs mid-air.
“Ghost mode.”
“…Ghost.”
“Yeah, see, that’s the part people get stuck on.”
Damian drops down from above, landing hard.
Sword already in hand.
“You expect us to believe you are—what—dead?”
Danny winces. “Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“You said you died.”
“I did!”
“You are standing here.”
“I am floating, technically.”
Damian looks ready to throw something sharp.
Batman raises a hand.
Stops him.
His eyes haven’t left Danny.
“You generate your own energy field,” he says. “Self-sustaining. Intangible state. Regenerative baseline tied to—what—this form?”
Danny brightens mid-hover.
“Oh! Yeah, kinda! It’s like this is the ‘real’ me, and the other one’s just… better at pretending to be normal.”
Silence.
That sentence lands hard.
Damian lowers his blade—just slightly.
“…Your human form is the disguise.”
Danny winces. “I mean, when you say ‘disguise,’ it sounds evil, but yeah, basically.”
Batman studies him.
Every detail.
The glow.
The lack of breath.
The way the air bends—just a little—around him.
“You weren’t injured in the corridor,” he says.
Danny shakes his head. “Not really.”
“You allowed the damage.”
“Yeah, it’s easier than dodging sometimes.”
Damian makes a strangled noise. “That is not strategy.”
“It is when you can’t die about it.”
Silence.
Again.
Danny notices.
“…Okay, that one might’ve been a bit much.”
Batman stops an arm’s length away.
Close enough now to see it clearly.
This isn’t just powers.
This is—
something else.
Ancient.
Alien.
Cold in a way that isn’t temperature.
“What are you?” he asks again.
Quieter this time.
Danny hesitates.
For once—
no joke.
“…I don’t know,” he admits.
The glow dims—just a fraction.
“I mean, I know what I call it,” he adds, softer, “but that doesn’t mean I understand it.”
Damian watches him.
Really watches.
“…You are not afraid,” he says.
Danny looks at him.
Then away.
“…Not of this.”
That again.
That pattern.
Batman files it away.
Of course he does.
A beat passes.
Then—
Danny snaps his fingers.
The glow flickers out.
The white drains from his hair.
Gravity remembers him.
He drops lightly back onto his feet—
back to hoodie, messy hair, and “just some guy.”
“…Anyway!” he says, like that didn’t just happen. “That’s the whole thing. Thoughts?”
Silence.
Complete.
Utter.
System failure.
Damian turns slowly to Batman.
“…We are keeping him.”
Danny lights up. “Wait, really?”
Batman doesn’t answer.
Because for the first time since this started—
he doesn’t have one.
And somewhere, deep in the cave—
the computers quietly log a new classification.
Unknown.