[some stories and such for my own original characters within various fictional universes such as star wars, marvel, lotr & others; others are fics focusing on canon characters. not all of these are on here, so i thought i’d make this and attach links just in case someone wants to read them :)]
ao3 account
1. STAY WITH ME, MY BLOOD Masterlist
summary: A DPxDC crossover AU where Danny and Athanasia are twins, Damian is their little brother, and Danny was adopted by the Fentons at age ten.
2. TAKE THE FEAR THAT I DON’T NEED Masterlist
summary: A Star Wars fix-it AU series that mainly focuses on my abundance of original characters while the actual fix-it happens in the background.
3. WITH FIRE AND LIGHT Masterlist [coming soon]
summary: The Hobbit & The Lord of the Rings AUs involving an original character as the main character in each story.
4. LIFE’S A GREAT BIG BANG UP SERIES | AO3 Link
summary: Peter Parker gets sent to Gotham City in one last attempt by Doctor Strange to keep the multiverse from destroying New York City. It takes time, but he soon gains friends and family once again – including a living variant of his dad.
5. FAMILY ABOVE ALL ELSE SERIES | AO3 Link
summary: Stories of found families – both in the ‘long lost family member’ sense and the ‘a bunch of semi-responsible heroes and vigilantes band together’ sense, but also the ‘dumb teen friend groups’ sense – that will mostly focus on my original character, Alisa Barnes, and Peter Parker as they struggle through life.
6. AMATEURS AT WAR SERIES | AO3 Link
summary: The Voltron Lions can actually form into real lions, the team’s bond grows closer and closer, Lance and Keith gradually fall in love, and the Galra Empire attempt to steal the Lions time and time again. Just the usual in an intergalactic war against an evil alien race.
7. MISCELLANEOUS STUFF
Snippet of an original LOZ AU / OC Aesthetic for Alisa /
I’d Give You My Lungs So You Could Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) CH4
AO3 Link / One / Prev / Next / Masterlist
summary:
Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.
Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.
a/n:
i am so sorry for such the long wait!! but here’s ch4 finally lmao hope you guys enjoy :)
warnings for entire fic:
canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: Alfred tells Bruce of Danny’s injuries, but nothing in explicit detail
CHAPTER FOUR —
Tonight did not go the way Bruce thought it would.
The day started out peaceful enough. For his family, that was. Tim had stayed the night after patrol rather than heading back to his place in the city, so he and Damian, both half asleep still, had gotten into a snarky quarrel about cereal bowls, of all things. Apparently there was favorite bowl; it was the perfect size and depth. Damian woke up first, grabbed it, and Tim became grouchy when he discovered that.
Bruce had then taken the bowl away when they wouldn’t stop arguing about it, handed it to Duke who had entered the kitchen at that exact moment, and continued on to get a plate of French toast that Alfred had made and a large mug of coffee. He dutifully ignored his sons’ complaints while his other son just went along with what had just happened.
Then Alfred took Duke and Damian to school, Stephanie appeared out of nowhere to drag Tim into helping her study for college finals that were coming up, and Cass regularly sent him pictures of Hong Kong as a means to let him know every thing was going smoothly for the case that had lead her back over there. Bruce called Dick during his lunch hour at WE, tried to get out of an afternoon meeting only for Lucious and Tim (who was now only a partial shareholder instead of the majority shareholder, since that went back to Bruce) to drag him to it anyway, and told Jason that he might have found something to aid him in one of his cases through e-mail because, once again, Jason had blocked his number.
Bruce had no idea what warranted it this time, and he was hesitant to ask.
All in all, it was a normal day. He might even describe it as a good day. So, of course, he expected patrol to be hell. Maybe a breakout of some sort; an intense hostage situation; one of his children getting majorly injured again; a near death experience or two. Possibly more than one of those, or even all of them. That was what Bruce Wayne – Batman – expected.
Not this.
Not Damian having two secret, older, biological siblings.
Not a group of kids in their late teens obviously on the run, brave faced but scared.
Not a daughter finding him on a random roof on the verge of a panic attack, brave façade crumbling with the fear her brothers weren’t okay.
Not a son no older than eighteen having been vivisected by someone Bruce has yet to find out, and warranting Alfred to perform emergency surgery on him.
After Damian, Bruce swore he was done. No more kids for him; the children and pseudo-children he had were enough. The amount of love he had for them was immeasurable, and with them – because of them – Bruce had a mountain of happiness in his life among all the other shitty and dark valleys of depression and torment.
Now he’s learned Talia had lied yet again.
First, about having a miscarriage back when she had been pregnant with Damian. Second, about how before that, from their first meeting five years prior, she already had twins.
His twins.
Damian had also lied, yet he had been told to do so and promised to by his older sister herself. And he had no idea why.
It occurred to him, then, that Jason knew as well. He recognized Damian’s sister on the roof.
It hurt to know that they knew yet didn’t tell him. Everything about the current situation hurt, if he was to be honest.
“My name is Athanasia al Ghul,” Bruce’s daughter, introduced herself as he helped clean, re-bandage, and stitch her injuries. “My twin– our brother… He was born Dányál al Ghul, but he got adopted when he was ten. Legally, his name is now Daniel Fenton. He goes by Danny most of the time.”
It was surreal. Bruce had to keep himself from questioning her until he got answers – about her, Danny, why Talia never mentioned either of them, why Athanasia told Damian to keep them a secret, what and who they were running from and why, and tens of others. It wasn’t hard to do, but the urge was still there.
Making sure his daughter (he had another daughter) got some much needed medical attention took precedence over that.
For now, he would merely let her speak to him on her own terms.
“Do you have a preferred name you go by?” Bruce asked, because his eldest went by ‘Dick’ and Tim hated it when ‘Timothy’ was used and Steph only let ‘Stephanie’ slide if the person was a stranger and Cass didn’t care one way or another, but she did seem to like when the family used the shortened version of her name more. If Athanasia wanted a specific name or nickname used, he planned to use it.
“My brothers called me ‘Ana’ sometimes,” she said. “Hardly anyone else calls me that, but I won’t mind you do, too.”
Bruce nodded and smiled. He finished bandaging the newly stitched up cut on her thigh as he said, “I will be sure to remember that, then.”
“I still will if you want me to,” Damian spoke up immediately from the other cot he sat on. His foot was propped up and an ice pack laid on his ankle, curtesy of Duke who had brought it over a few minutes ago; he seemed to want to stay, but got dragged away by Jason almost immediately.
What his youngest said took Bruce by surprise. Damian wasn’t the type to use nicknames or shortened versions of names; the exceptions were probably Jon Kent and Maps Mizoguchi. And, now, apparently the twins.
And he offered to.
One corner of her mouth twitched up before she smothered it, going for a neutral expression. Bruce still saw something akin to happiness and relief in her eyes as she nodded. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” she said, “As long as I can still call you ‘Dames’.”
Damian pressed his lips into a thin line to lessen the size of his smile that he then twisted in a faux frown of annoyance. “If you must.”
Bruce refrained from reacting to that. He knew that Tim tried to call Damian that once, and his youngest son had a very sudden, negative reaction to it. Tim went to Bruce later that day, guilty and frustrated, because he didn’t mean to upset Damian and now they were at odds again; Bruce only got the story out after a spar.
It certainly made some sense now, why he had reacted like that. And also why he was more tolerant of ‘Dami’ than everyone thought he would originally be, back when Dick first started using it.
…A lot of things about Damian made sense now.
Bruce wondered often about how Damian, an apparent only child, grew accustomed to older brothers and a sister rather seamlessly. Well, after he stopped attempting to murder Tim, of course; and after he stopped insisting that he didn’t have siblings, that he was the only blood son and therefore superior than the others.
(He still occasionally pulled the blood son card. More so now to annoy the others, than anything.)
He grew accustomed seamlessly to the others because of Athanasia and Danny. He had always been the youngest. He was used to nagging, protective, annoying older siblings already.
It made Bruce emotional in so many ways.
The next fifteen minutes or so were spent in silence as Bruce finished tending to Athanasia’s wounds. When he got done, he stepped back to give her space as he picked up everything he had used.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked her.
“No,” she said. Athanasia almost sounded confused on why he asked, and Bruce sincerely hoped he imagined it. No one of any age should be confused when asked that. “Thank you, Batman.”
“Of course.”
Footsteps, hesitant and soft, grew close, catching their attentions. The redhead, Wesley ‘Wes’ Weston as he introduced himself as earlier, stopped a few feet away. His posture and the way his hands sat in his pockets said casual, but his muscles were tense and his expression held exhaustion.
“Wesley,” Athanasia said as a greeting.
Wes half smiled. “Hey.”
Bruce frowned a little. “Is everything okay?”
The teenager nodded. “Oh, yeah. Um, the others just want to talk about something as a whole. I came to get Ana.”
Bruce saw Damian straighten just the tiniest bit in his peripheral.
Athanasia began to get out of the cot, but Bruce held out a hand. She froze, so he kept his hand in the air rather than placing it on her shoulder like he was about to. Then, lowered it.
“You need rest. I’m sure the conversation can wait,” Bruce said to them.
Wes shook his head. “It can’t. It’s important.”
“Talking does not require extensive body movement,” Athanasia said. “And I’m sure Wesley is right about the importance. I can rest later.”
“You need rest now.”
Athanasia stared him dead in the eye and got out. She stood in front him, back straight and no sign of discomfort or pain.
She was tall for a girl, he noticed for a second time that night. Maybe a bit taller than Tim, if not the same height, but still shorter than Dick. The way she stood reminded him a lot of Talia, but that defiant look was something Damian definitely learned from her at a young age.
“I’m eighteen – an adult,” she spoke in Arabic, and that fact made his heart hurt. “I know my own limits by now. I will rest later.”
She then pivoted on her feet and walked off. As she passed Wes, she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to drag him along. Other than a slight noise of surprise at being forcibly turned around in the opposite direction, the boy didn’t seem that fazed.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl at him as Wesley casually grabbed Athanasia’s hand to remove her grip. Her fingers twitched, almost holding his hand instead, before she pulled away and quickened her pace.
‘Acquaintances’ she said.
Damian huffed. “I don’t like him.”
“Hn.”
Alfred stepped halfway out of the curtained off area and requested his presence. A surge of panic washed over him and he walked over, telling Damian to stay put. Whatever Alfred needed, he hoped it was better than all the negative thoughts now plaguing his mind.
+++
Athanasia ached – for multiple reasons.
The soreness and pain was finally, truly settling in post-fight. With the adrenaline gone, and now able to relax with Danny being taken care of, she was way more aware of what hurt and what didn’t, except for the number areas where Batman had to do stitches. She probably should have asked for Tylenol or Ibuprofen. She didn’t.
Then, there was Damian. Her baby brother. She said that he was still short earlier, and he was, but he had also grown so much. Watching him from afar when she visited Gotham kept that fact from settling in until now.
He wasn’t the tiny, baby faced nine year old anymore. His hair used to be medium brown and wavy, but over the past few years it’s gotten a few shades darker and now the strands curled like her own. His limbs were lanky as he began to enter his teenage years, the baby fat was disappearing, and he was much taller than a nine year old. He stood and had the mannerisms and forming attitude of any other 13 year old.
Dányál was whole entirely different type of ache from realizing Damian had grown and the pain of her injuries. It was tangled up in anger and fear. At the GIW and Ra’s, and what they did to him.
She almost felt ten again, following the servant in the shadows to the Lazarus Pits. Except this time, there were no pools of bright green liquid to heal him to assure survival. Just the talented Penny-One, Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of Wayne Manor and doctor of the Batcave and a pseudo grandfather to many.
And her father… He was kind and gentle in a way she hadn’t expected. Yes, Jason said he was a good man, but she honestly never was able to picture it. Batman? The man who took down criminals nightly? Gentle? It was jarring, but not completely unwelcome.
It hurt knowing he was like that, and Mother kept them at the League of Assassins. It hurt that she now knew Jason spoke the truth, and Mother knew too, and even after Ra’s ran a sword through her son’s chest, she still kept them there. That she didn’t have her servant take her and Damian, too, and rather acted as if Dányál had truly died.
It hurt because she still didn’t believe it. Obviously he trained with the other members of the family, but all Athanasia was able to picture were the training tactics and punishments of the League. Batman trained with them, years ago, after all. Who’s to say he didn’t use the same ones on his kids?
And then there was Wesley. No one knew about Wesley. Not even the rest of Team Phantom. She even kept herself from thinking about it until the mission of finding and saving her brother was done.
Manson and Foley were the first members of the team she’d met – technically. Wesley Weston wasn’t a member when she first visited Amity Park and met him. They grew close; then Athanasia panicked and ran away left town, only to come back when the GIW took over. She felt bad for leaving him, truly, and she didn’t understand why he didn’t seem to be as angry as she thought he’d be.
There were so many aching emotions within her. It was almost overwhelming. Athanasia wanted to rest; she knew her father was right that she needed to. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Gray and Wesley needed to get back to Amity Park to get Ellie, and then figure out a way to get to Jazz Fenton, or at least somehow inform her of everything that happened.
They needed to figure out what, exactly, they were going to tell Batman about Dányál and literally everything else.
Athanasia sat down where the others had gathered – far enough away so they wouldn’t be heard, but still seen – and made short eye contact with Wesley when he sat in the only free spot beside her. They both looked away at the same time.
Gray and Manson had their own share of fresh bandages, but hardly the amount Athanasia had. Foley had one. A lucky shuriken cut his bicep and an ectoblast singed the bottom hem of his shirt, but other than that he was fine yet exhausted. Wesley was the only one injury free.
A pack of water bottles sat on the edge of the table. Everyone already had one when she got to the table. Foley was the closest to the pack, and he took one out and rolled it over to her without a word. There was a bottle of migraine medicine by Manson’s elbow where she was laying her head down.
“So,” Gray began to start the conversation. “Batman. I thought you were taking us to your dad?”
“I was, but I knew he would bring us to Batman anyway, so when I spotted him I decided to cut out the middle man.”
“Are you sure we can trust him?” asked Foley.
Athanasia nodded. “As a member of the Justice League, I fully believe Batman is trustworthy.”
“Exactly,” he sighed. “He’s a JL member – a founding member. In hindsight, it’s a good thing they have never visited Amity because that would risk any of them getting possessed, but not one member has checked on our town.”
“Well, actually,” interrupted Gray, “there was that British dude in a trench coat, remember? He smoked a lot. I think he mentioned a…Justice League Dark, or something? It was two or so years ago, so I’m not really sure.”
“Oh him!” Foley started laughing. “Oh, Ancients, how did I forget? Danny scared the shit out of him!”
Manson didn’t move, but she did snort amusedly. “That was hilarious.”
“So… What are we telling Batman?” Wesley asked when the laughter died down.
“Not everything,” said Manson. She finally lifted her head, and placed her hands around her eyes to block out some of the light. “For one, we need to figure out if he knows of the Anti-Ecto Act. We need to explain what’s happening in Amity Park, too. As for everything else… Danny should be the one to explain his powers and everything. Not even Athanasia knows it all.”
It was true. It annoyed her. She knew he had to have gotten the powers somehow, but Danny’s friends were tight lipped about it. All she knew was that Danny had ghost-like abilities, could change his looks, and also had whatever an ‘ice core’ was. She shouldn’t know about that last one, but she overheard Foley and Manson talking one night.
By eavesdropping she had hoped things would begin to make sense regarding her twin’s powers. Rather, it did the exact opposite.
“Batman will dig for answers,” Athanasia warned them. “He’s a detective – a good one, possibly the best in the world.”
Manson frowned.
“Then we give him enough info to keep him happy until Danny wakes up,” Foley said. “Then, he can make the decision on telling Batman everything else.”
“What about the others?” asked Gray. She looked at Athanasia. “Batman, sure. But does that include Robin? I saw you with them both earlier.”
“Robin is as trustworthy as Batman. All of the Bats and Birds in Gotham are, including Nightwing in Blüdhaven.”
“You sound so sure for someone who doesn’t know them personally,” Manson said.
Athanasia raised an eyebrow. “I never said I didn’t.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You never said you did, either.”
“Sam has a point,” Foley said.
“About what?”
“You never said if you did or didn’t know these vigilantes personally. You said you were taking us to your dad, and we’re here instead.”
Athanasia’s brows knitted together. “I said my father would have brought us to him, anyway. Why does that matter?”
“Because you said nothing about him in the first place.”
“Why does that matter?” she repeated. “Where do you think we would end up taking Dányál? Certainly not Arkham.”
“I don’t know, but it would be nice if you told us things,” he said, tone turning frustrated. “Like, who was the old dude you wanted to avoid?”
“That isn’t important right now,” she forced out. She knew she had to tell them about Ra’s, but she planned to do that later.
Manson scoffed as Wesley hesitantly said, “Well, no. It kinda is.”
“You mood completely changed when Tucker mentioned him on comms,” Gray said.
Athanasia drew in a deep breath through her nose. “That is not,” she spoke slow and low, “important right now.”
“Like hell–” Gray began.
“Why does it matter right now?” she stressed. “Can we focus on what is happening right now?”
“Whoever the fuck the old man is who came out of the room where they kept our best friend is isn’t important?” Manson asked incredulously.
“For now, yes!”
“How?! That makes no sense!”
“It really doesn’t make sense,” Wesley agreed, with Gray nodding along in agreement.
“C’mon, Ana, just–”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at the other boy.
Taken aback, Foley frowned. “But Wes calls you that?”
Athanasia shrugged. “I knew him before you guys,” she admitted after a beat of silence.
His eyes, along with Manson’s and Gray’s, went to Wesley.
“It’s true,” he said with a nod.
Gray leaned her forearms on the table. “So, did you know about the assassin thing?”
“No.” Wesley’s tone wasn’t exactly clipped, but it was clear that he wasn’t happy.
Athanasia held back a grimace.
Gray’s eyes flicked between them, and a spark of realization flashed in her eyes. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ and she nodded slowly. “Well,” she said, somewhat awkwardly, “have fun talking that out.”
She crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “Can we get back on track? Please.”
“That old guy–”
“Say it one more fucking time, Manson, I swear,” she snapped.
“Or what?”
“I will make that splitting headache of yours literal.”
Someone cleared their throat behind her. Everyone looked in that direction, and Athanasia was mildly surprised to see her father’s most recent foster kid standing there with a silver tray of sandwiches. He wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts and shoes, and had on a the helmet from the Signal suit. She knew he wore a domino mask earlier, so he must have switched one for the other when everyone else was too busy to notice.
“Athanasia, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s me. You’re Signal.”
Signal – or rather, Duke Thomas – nodded as well. “Yep. Hood said you guys might be hungry so he snuck off and made these real quick.” He set the tray on the table.
“Oh,” she said, still a little surprised but pleased, because honestly Jason made some of the best food. “Thank you, Signal.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Wait, Hood?” Foley choked out. “As in, the Red Hood?”
When she and Signal both nodded, Manson sarcastically said, “Oh, so the one you do know personally is the Ancients-damned crime lord. Great.”
“Why is a crime lord working with Batman?” Gray questioned.
“He’s a Bat,” Signal told her. “And these days, he’s more an anti-hero.”
“Former crime lord, then,” she said. “That’s suspicious.”
“Not if they’re family,” Wesley said
Athanasia looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Signal just stared at him and didn’t make a sound. When he noticed, Wesley shifted in his seat, seeming a bit awkward and uncomfortable from Signal’s stare.
“How do you know that for sure?” she asked him.
Wesley shrugged. “I don’t, it’s one of my theories. I’m not sure if it’s an uncle-nephew thing, a father-son thing, or pseudo family thing, or a brother-brother thing, or what, but I believe it’s something along those lines. Otherwise, why isn’t Batman treating Red Hood like any other criminal, like Bane?”
“Hood is nothing like Bane,” Signal stated. The corners of his mouth had turned down into a frown, and Athanasia noticed the defensive and protective undertone.
Honestly, she almost said the same thing in the same way.
By the way Wesley’s eyes widened, he noticed Signal’s tone, too. He raised his hands. “Hey, man, I didn’t say he was. That’s just the first criminal who came to mind!”
Signal stared at him for another second, visibly unnerving Wesley even more, then finally looked away. “Anyway. Eat the sandwiches if you’re hungry.” Then, almost resigned, “If you need anything, please tell me. I’m stuck babysitting to make sure Robin doesn’t walk on his ankle, and that kid is borderline grumpy on good days.”
Athanasia smirked. “Good luck.”
“Ugh.”
When he walked away, Wesley spoke up again. “My family theory is growing.”
“Please don’t start trying to figure out their identities,” Foley practically begged. “I’d like to stay on their good sides.”
Silence.
Foley sighed.
“Seriously, Wes?” Gray complained.
“We can talk about Wes’ obsession with secret identities later–”
“It’s not an obse–”
Manson cut him off with a glare. “Later,” she emphasized. “Batman. GIW. The assassins. What and how much are we telling him?”
Much to Athanasia’s relief, she didn’t try to bring up Ra’s again to get her to explain. Her shoulders relaxed at that, and conversation finally got back on track.
+++
Much to Bruce’s short lived relief, all Alfred needed him for was to give him an extra set of hands to apply bandages to the teen. They were almost done. It took longer than Bruce liked, simply because he had so many injuries, old and new.
Alfred finished wrapping bandages around the boy’s torso. Gently and carefully, Bruce laid him back down, having been holding him up to make things easier.
He stared down at Danny. Even under anesthesia from surgery and with a safe amount of morphine to ease the pain, his face was still slightly pinched in a way that told them something still hurt. Bruce wished he knew what else he could do to help him. His kid.
Danny and Athanasia, he thought. Another son, another daughter. One who had one giant wound on his chest and other smaller ones littered about, one who had defensive and offensive injuries and bruises.
He almost lost another son tonight. He didn’t know Danny, didn’t even know he existed until a couple of hours ago. It still hurt. Still settled an ache in his heart – for him, Athanasia, Damian, and the other teenagers.
“Whoever did this…” Bruce began, anger seeping into his tone. “Who would vivisect a child?”
“I’m afraid, these days, that list is longer than any of us would like, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.
Bruce pushed back the cowl and rubbed his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb. “This is…” He had no words. With a sigh, he dropped his hand. “How bad is it, really?”
There weren’t many times Bruce could count on his hands where he saw Alfred look so devastated that he was near tears. To see it now, Bruce almost retracted his question.
“He had internal bleeding that I had to stop. Multiple broken ribs. Broken sternum.” Alfred hesitated. “Misplaced organs that I had to put back.”
Bruce shut his eyes, and backed up to fall into the chair behind him. He leaned back, hand over his eyes. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Anything else?”
“Master Bruce–”
“Anything else?” he repeated, firm.
Alfred sighed. “He has bruises and cuts on his wrists – signs of a struggle against cuffs of some sort. Burns from something I am unsure of. His right forearm is fractured; we will have to call Dr. Thompkins to get it properly taken care of. Until then I placed a splint on it. He has other injuries, but those are superficial and nothing to worry about. If he is anything like anyone else in this family, he will make a miraculously full recovery.”
Taking in the information, Bruce rubbed at his temple, then looked back at Danny. He was pale from blood loss, and from where Bruce sat he couldn’t see the splinted arm but he did earlier.
The heart monitor beeped slower than an average human. It set Bruce’s anxiety off, afraid that at any moment it will slow down to a complete stop.
“There is…another thing that has my concerns,” Alfred spoke as he began to clean the area.
“The Lichtenberg figures.”
“Yes.”
Bruce noticed them when he first began helping Alfred. It was hard not to see them. The ones on his back started at the base of his neck and went all the way down his spine. Most branched off into faint, small lines that followed the nervous system of the body, and quickly faded out; a few went up towards his hairline. But there was one figure that branched off, that stayed prominent like the one down his spine; it went across his shoulder blade and down his left arm, not stopping until it reached the palm.
“They are old, from what I can tell,” said Alfred. “A few or so years, perhaps.”
Bruce brows lowered. “Lichtenberg figures disappear after a few days.”
“Not these.”
Bruce sighed.
The Lichtenberg figures. The horror of what happened and who did it. The Lazarus green on both twins, and Danny’s bandages. The secrecy of the twins.
Bruce had so many questions. He needed answers.
“Might I suggest, Master Bruce, that you wait to interrogate the traumatized teenagers?”
He stilled from where he stood back up. “We need answers–”
“And we can get them once everyone is well rested,” said Alfred. “We have no idea how long any of them have been awake, or where they even came from. Ask questions now, and you will have five exhausted and frightened teenagers giving you the hardest time of your life.”
Bruce thought back to when they first got to the Batcave. Of the persistence and stubbornness, and blatant refusal to let the adults take over. He admired their loyalty and want to protect their friend, but he did not want a repeat of that tonight.
“You’re right,” he reluctantly admitted.
“I often am, Master Bruce.”
“Hey.” The curtain moved. Jason poked his head in. “It’s just me,” he announced. “Gave Duke a tray of sandwiches earlier to give the kids. They have water, too. Need me to do anything here?”
Alfred looked down at the bed Danny was on; Bruce did, too. The sheets and mattress were stained from the impromptu surgery.
“A little help cleaning up and moving Master Danny to a new bed will be much appreciated,” said Alfred.
Jason nodded, then backed out with a, “One clean medical cot. Got it.”
That left Bruce and Alfred to continue cleaning everything else. The former tossed away the old bandages, dirtied thread, and alcohol wipes; the latter picked up the medical equipment that had been used and placed them in a plastic tub to be washed and disinfected later. Jason quickly came back in rolling up a clean bed, and they carefully moved Danny from one to the other.
Silence fell as Bruce began to check that the IV was still secure after all of the moving.
“So,” Jason said, Alfred leaving to put everything away, stained bed included. “Danny, huh.”
Bruce hummed.
The quiet turned tense between them.
“Hell, old man, just go ahead and ask.”
With crossed arms, he looked at his second son. “You knew.”
“Not a question, but sure. Whatever.” Jason motioned to Danny. “I didn’t know about him. Hell, I didn’t even know about Damian until he came here.”
His eyes narrowed a little. “But you knew about Athanasia. You recognized her on the roof.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, carelessly. Like it wasn’t a big deal.
“For how long?”
Jason didn’t immediately answer. “I don’t know, B. I guess I was sixteen?” He crossed his arms, too. “She looked, maybe, a little younger than Damian is now.”
“So you met at the League.”
“Eh, sure… It would be more accurate to say she found me, and randomly appeared like the fucking Ghost Christmas Past or some shit.”
“And you never told me.”
“Jesus. No.”
“Why?”
“No more dead Robins. No more child soldiers. No more kids dealing with your shit,” said Jason. “Take your fucking pick.”
“They aren’t Robins, Jason, and they definitely are not child soldiers because of me,” Bruce snapped. “They are my children, all of you are, and I didn’t force any of you to do what we do. I wouldn’t have forced Athanasia to become a vigilante if she didn’t want to, if she came here with Damian!”
Underneath his domino mask, Bruce knew Jason was glaring at him. “Are you going to hound Damian like this? He didn’t tell you either!”
“Because he made a promise that he wouldn’t! You didn’t! Six years, son–”
“And she’s been visiting Gotham for two!” Jason yelled.
“What do you mean?”
“She already knew you’re her dad; don’t ask me how because I don’t know. But don’t you think she would have come to you if she wanted you to know?”
Bruce faltered for only a second.
It was long enough for a small projectile to hit him in his temple before he could form an actual response to his son. He flinched from the impact but caught it – a rock from somewhere in cave – and heard Jason begin to chuckle before he also got hit in the side of the head with another rock.
Having slipped into the curtained off area while they argued, stood Athanasia. A few more rocks were in one hand and Bruce had no doubt she would throw another one if she felt like she needed (or wanted) to.
Her expression was a guarded.
Jason glared at her. “What the hell–”
“The others want to speak with Batman. In case you forgot because of your aging mind, I didn’t tell them your identity, so I suggest you put the cowl back on before you walk out.” With that, she ducked out, not waiting for either of them to speak.
There was a beat of silence.
“Insulted by a new kid in under two hours,” said Jason. “That has to be a new record.”
“No,” Bruce denied gruffly, “it still goes to you for calling me a ‘big boob’ and hitting me with a tire iron when stealing my tires.”
“I wasn’t your kid then.”
“Hn.”
Jason exasperatedly sighed. “You’re impossible.” He walked out without another word.
Bruce put on the cowl, but didn’t leave until Alfred came back, wary to leave Danny alone. When Alfred assured him that he would alert them if needed, he left and made his way to Athanasia and the other teenagers.
He wasn’t surprised to see Damian already there. Either Athanasia got him or he forced Duke to help him; whatever the case, he and Duke now sat at the table with the others, while Jason stood off to the side against a nearby cave wall. His helmet was back on, and he watched the group with crossed arms.
He pulled up a spare chair and held laced it between Athanasia and Damian. He had barely sat down for longer than a second when the girl who introduced herself as Valerie Gray spoke up.
“We need to leave.”
“No.”
She reeled back, shocked. The others stared at him with either incredulity or anger. Tucker Foley froze with a half eaten sandwich hovering in front of his mouth, and Sam Manson looked ready to argue.
“Um, yes,” Valerie corrected. “You can’t keep us here, we aren’t prisoners. We brought Danny here for medical attention, and now that that’s done, Wes and I need to head back to Amity Park ASAP.”
“I can’t in good conscience let any of you to take another trip somewhere,” Bruce told them. “I’m not keeping you as prisoners. You need rest. All of you.”
“We can rest later,” Sam argued. “We don’t have time to just- just sit around and do nothing!”
“Resting isn’t doing nothing,” he said. “It’s making sure you don’t push your body and mind too much so you can work more later.”
“We don’t have time for later.”
“With all due respect, um, Batman, sir,” Tucker began nervously, “Sam and Valerie are right. We have a lot to do. This has already gone on for long enough.”
Underneath the cowl, an eyebrow raised. “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”
The group hesitated.
“There is a secret government organization tormenting a subspecies of humans and metas,” Athanasia explained. “The organization call themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward.”
“Ghosts,” Bruce repeated.
The teens nodded.
Duke ‘huh’ed, as if he was piecing things together in his own head.
“Ghosts?” questioned Jason incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “There are literally aliens on this world, a dude with a magical ring, an Amazonian woman, a gene in human DNA that gives some of us powers, heroes apparently die and come back to life on the regular, a bunch of other shit, and you’re seriously questioning ghosts right now?”
“What do you mean by ‘tormenting’?” Bruce asked before Jason could properly respond. “And why?”
“Ghosts, or anything paranormal, aren’t seen as good or friendly beings by them,” Tucker said. His eyes became downcast. “They aren’t even considered beings. Or sentient.”
“The GIW are ghost hunters,” Valerie explained. “And over the past few years, they have taken an interest in our town, Amity Park, because of the extreme amount of paranormal activity and ambient ectoplasm we have. Usually our local ghost vigilante takes care of them, and it’s never been that big of a deal, even though they have always wanted to catch Phantom and do Ancients know what. He’s always been able to stop them before anything got too serious.
“Honestly, we didn’t take them that seriously when we probably should have. We call them the Guys in White, because they’re like a lame, evil, paranormal-obsessed version of the Men in Black. Even though they did have bad intentions, they’ve never been successful. But last October…”
“They aren’t so lame anymore,” Wes muttered.
As Bruce quietly took in and filed away the information he just got, Damian gave them a somewhat judgmental look. “You underestimated them. That can very well lead to a deadly mistake,” he said. He glared at them under the domino mask. “It almost did.”
“We know,” Sam responded, sounding equally frustrated and solemn. “They are a government organization that got bested by a group of fourteen year olds when they first came along. What were we supposed to think? They have been getting better over the years, but so have we. We have always taken necessary precautions and we had plans for potential bad outcomes because Danny was insistent on that. But they stopped coming around for some time. We stupidly believed they’d given up on us. Then the Guys in White finally showed their faces again, and we weren’t as prepared as we should have been.”
“It’s why we need to get back to Amity Park,” Wes said. “They put us under martial law and we need to get in touch with another friend of ours.”
Bruce took in what they said. He still had a bunch of questions alongside new ones that he wanted answers to ASAP. Alfred was right, though; questioning them right now – let alone letting any of them leave to continue on their mission – wasn’t a good idea.
This was a group of eager, stubborn teenagers whose town and best friend were in danger. He understood their urgency to keep going, and he told them as such. “But it will do no good for anyone to run yourselves to the ground. I’m even willing to help and hear the full story of what happened, but not until each of you get some much needed rest. That’s final.”
“But–”
“Batman, you don’t understand–”
“Running on fumes will get you no where,” he spoke firmly and loudly. It was the same tone he used on his kids, both in and out of suits, when they were misbehaving or did something they shouldn’t have. “It might even lead to another almost deadly mistake. You all need to rest. You can either stay in a safe house, or I can get in touch with Athanasia’s father and see if you can go there if that’s what you want.”
“What if we want a hotel?” Sam asked with a glare that hard to tell if it was from anger at him or the migraine she had.
“I won’t let you,” he bluntly admitted. “A government organization is after Danny and you guys by proxy, for reasons I don’t know. It’s either a safe house, or Athanasia’s father’s home that I have personally created a security system for.”
No one responded. A short silence fell over them.
Bruce decided to stand up. “I will let you guys choose. I need to check on my partners out in the field.”
WITH FIRE AND LIGHT SERIES (Tolkien ‘Verse fanfics)
[original character-centric]
1. AMONG BRIGHT FLAMES | (The Hobbit movie trilogy — Kíli x OC) coming soon!
warnings: canon-typical violence; major character death(s); this is not a fix-it/everyone lives AU :(
summary: In the Fae Realm of Arda, things were changing, and not for the better. Their major enemy, Imps, were growing bolder in their schemes, as well as enacting them more frequently as the months go on. After a particular attack that left her people concerned and confused, and worried of a certain Darkness, the Fae Queen decided to let her two eldest daughters, the twins Melraen and Ziadún, leave their homeland to attempt to learn what was wrong.
They went their separate ways quite quickly: Ziadún went in search to find possible answers from Radagast the Brown, and Melraen went to do the same with Gandalf the Grey — only, Gandalf barely had any answers for her, and instead offered her a chance to help a company of dwarves reclaim their home from a dragon.
She accepted, knowing that her Gift would come in handy for them, as well as hoping to find answers of her own as they traveled. Unexpected were the growing feelings for a certain Dwarf Prince that formed along the way, though not entirely unwelcome.
But everything fire touched, burned; and everything shadow covered, darkened.
2. AMIDST THE SUNLIGHT | (The Lord of the Rings trilogy — Legolas x OC) coming after ABF!
summary: The world of Arda had darkness growing within it. For some, they knew and they were readying for war. For others, they knew and were already fighting in a war. For everyone else, they either didn’t want to know or didn’t believe such a thing was happening.
Princess Lináre of the Fae belonged in the second category. Thousands of years had gone by of the Fae fighting the Imps, continuously and tirelessly. But recently Orcs began to manage to enter their land, and no one knew how. So when Gandalf the Grey approached her and asked for her to aid some hobbits to Rivendell, she agreed. Perhaps this way she might find answers for her people.
And she did – in the shape of a little golden ring that held enough evil to end the world. Determined to help one Frodo Baggins journey to Mordor, she joined the Fellowship.
After all, they will all need a little light in these dark times.
3. EXTRA BITS & PIECES | (One-shots, AUs, bonus scenes & etcetera from the series)
hi, sorry i haven’t updated my dcxdp fic yet!! i thought it wouldn’t take so long but now there’s some family drama going on in my life and i just can’t be bothered to write right now lol
idk who needs to hear this but,,,every piece of fandom content you make should be self indulgent. you should be creating because it gives you happiness and nothing less. you aren't a machine meant to only give to other people. the enjoyment should always come before the validation.
i am having the exact opposite of writer’s block right now like yes i know what i want to happen in the next chapter & i know i can write it out with little trouble but also the same thing is true for at least 5 other stories i’m writing and unfortunately i can’t write all of them at once and i can’t focus on one story for longer than like 30 minutes so nothing is actually getting written like what the actual hell
Hey, I was wonder where you made your moodboards? I've been looking around for a good website, but haven't found anything I like
hi!! to make them i use an app called Picsart; you need to make an account to use it but you can save whatever you make without posting anything if you don’t want to (that’s what i do lol). it’s nice to use bc you can make pictures as darker or lighter or whatever if needed to match the others :)
honestly tempted to work flynn fenton into igymlsycb(igyb) somehow bc why not its my fic i can do what i want but also do the batpham kids really need another sibling in this au
I’d Give You My Lungs So You Could Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) [CH3]
AO3 Link / One / Prev / Next / Masterlist
summary:
Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.
Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.
a/n:
“ch3 will be up in a few days,” i said, like a lying liar who lies. i meant to!!! but then i sort of forgot and then got distracted by another fic i’m in the middle of writing mlmao oops. so i won’t promise or say when ch4 will be up, bc this was the last of my already written chapters from ao3 & my update schedule is of the 'when i can and want to' variety. hope u guys on tumblr enjoy this chapter!! :)
warnings for the entire fic:
canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: blood; stressed teenagers; athanasia has a borderline panic attack; vivisection is mentioned again but only once if i remember right; implied animal death but in the past & it’s like 1 paragraph
CHAPTER THREE —
The secret, new headquarters of the Ghost Investigation Ward was in upstate New York. The Wayne Manor was in Gotham City, New Jersey. The travel from Point A to Point B was about three hours and forty minutes long – a much longer drive than any of them wanted. But with Manson’s magic, the van stayed invisible to the human eye and Wesley was able to speed down the roads without cops chasing after them, cutting down the travel time immensely.
Still, it was a risk.
But stopping some place before they got to Gotham was also a risk. One Athanasia refused to take.
Maybe if Ra’s al Ghul hadn’t been there, would she allow them to stop at a roadside motel or something. But he was there. He had been in the room where they were operating on Danny. Mother had one of her servants save Danny from death eight years ago to get him out of the League, allowing Grandfather to believe he was dead, but now he knew.
And Athanasia wasn’t going to let that man get anywhere near close to her twin brother again. So, they weren’t going to stop until they made it to Wayne Manor.
The others weren’t happy about it. She didn’t care.
Of course, that didn’t mean she was happy about it, either.
Believe her, she wanted to stop sooner. She wanted to get to a place where they could properly take care of Danny’s injuries, and give him what he needed to heal, and take those damn power repressing cuffs off. All they could do was make sure the bandages on his chest stayed put and kept too much blood from bleeding out, and made sure that he didn’t die on the way to the manor, which was more difficult than Athanasia would like, seeing as though, as Phantom, he didn’t have a heartbeat.
Eventually, they got the cuffs off. It took a while, and it was mostly done by Foley and Gray, because Athanasia was busy bandaging her own wounds with the limited supplies in the van, and Manson was focused on keeping the van invisible while Wesley drove. They succeeded, though. Once both cuffs were off, a ring of light appeared around him and with a flash he had black hair again, and green blood turned red.
His healing factor didn’t kick in.
“What do you mean he isn’t healing?” Wesley asked, worried, when Foley informed them. “He should be.”
“I don’t know,” Foley said, tone unsure and worried.
“But he has a heartbeat now, right?” asked Athanasia. She kept her eyes on her thigh as she bandaged a wound on there. It wasn’t the best, and she didn’t have anything to clean the wound with, but it would have to do for now.
Gray replied, “Yeah. He’s got one.”
“Okay. Good.” It was the only thing she could get herself to say. The possibility of still being too late to save him, even with him now away from the GIW and LoA, put a restrictive weight on her chest. It lessened with Gray’s affirmation, but not much.
They made it to Gotham in just under two hours and fifteen minutes.
Athanasia only got a split second glimpse of the city’s poorly lit up welcome sign with how fast Wesley continued to drive. Truly a speed demon; he didn’t even slow down when they got into the city’s limits.
As they crossed one intersection, a car with goons hanging out of the windows holding guns sped through it behind them, with what looked to be Red Robin and Spoiler on motorcycles on their tail. Three cops sped through right after. Gun shots rang out as they disappeared behind a building.
“Watch out for vigilantes,” she said. “It’s around the time most start coming out.”
Wesley shook his head. “I can’t imagine having more than one vigilante.”
Gray pointedly cleared her throat.
“I can’t imagine having more than two vigilantes.”
She hummed. “Forget about me again and see what happens.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Athanasia laughed quietly to herself. It wasn’t quiet enough, because he still heard and gave her the stink eye. It was hardly intimidating
Foley hissing made her look into the back seats. He was shaking his left hand, expression a grimace of pain, as he hurriedly passed the vial of liquid Athanasia had taken from the IV to Gray. Gray took it just as fast, twisting the lid back on.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Athanasia asked.
“They were putting that in his system?” The grimace turned into panic when she nodded. “Oh, that’s not good. That is so not good. That has blood blossoms in it.”
“What?!” Gray exclaimed. “That can kill him!”
Athanasia shifted so she sat sideways in the front seat. “What are blood blossoms?” Her eyes flicked to Danny – his chest slowly rose up and down – and then back to Foley.
“They can kill ghosts,” Wesley said gravely.
Foley explained, “They’re a blood red flower, have purple stems – humans can eat them. But for ghosts, they cause extreme pain and make them go powerless. Exposed to enough of it, they die. To people like me and Sam, who aren’t ghosts but have been exposed to ectoplasm for years, it just burns us. Like we touched a hot stove, or something.” He motioned to the vial. “That just felt like bee sting for me, but to Danny? It probably feels like he’s being slowly burned from the inside out.”
“It sounds like they made an oil from blood blossoms and diluted it until it wasn’t so strong,” Gray said.
“Strong enough to render him powerless, but weak enough to not kill him after long exposure,” Athanasia said, and the two of them nodded.
“Sounds like it.”
“That may be why he isn’t healing fast like he should,” Wesley suggested.
Foley cursed again. “This is so not good. We need to get it out of his system, like, yesterday.”
“How do we do that?”
Silence stretched between them.
Athanasia’s brows furrowed, incredulous and frustrated. And scared. “You don’t know?” she demanded.
“It– It’s never been in his bloodstream before!” Foley defended. “He’s only been near the flowers, so we just…moved him away from them. Or them from him. This is… We’ve never dealt with this before!”
“But you should have at least had a contingency plan for this,” she bit back. “Oils from flowers and plants are common!”
“We never thought the GIW would be smart enough for that!”
“Well, you should have!”
“Hey!” Gray shouted over them, “Enough! This isn’t helping Danny. Let’s just get to your dad’s place, yeah?”
Athanasia turned back around without another word. The movement pulled at her injuries, maybe even reopened the wound on her side, but she ignored them as she got out her communicator.
No one spoke for a few seconds.
“The device you are using to block the signals…” she started.
“I already said no,” Foley muttered, tone clipped. “It’s blocking his ecto-signature, too. I’m not risking unblocking it just so you can make a call.”
“You didn’t risk stopping, Ana,” Wesley said before she could respond. “Let us not risk this.”
There was a tightness in her throat that had been building up for the last ten minutes. It kept her from speaking; if she wanted to or even had a response, she couldn’t say it. She worked her jaw, ignoring the stinging in her eyes.
One brother was behind her near death, with a large incision that needed to be stitched. Her other brother was out in the city fighting crime, who knows in what type of danger in the crime capital of America.
She just wanted to know that at least one of them was okay.
It was as they went through another intersection, barely making it through a green light, when she noticed an unmistakable large, black shadow swing from one side of the road to the next.
“Stop the van,” she choked out.
“But–”
“Stop the van!”
Wesley slammed on the breaks. The ones in the back went tumbling, and she heard Manson let out a curse, concentration on the van’s invisibility broken after over two hours.
Athanasia got out of the van as fast as possible. She raced to the other side of the road and climbed skillfully up the fire escape on the side of a building. As she got to the roof, she spotted the figure speaking to another – red and black – in the shadows.
“Batman!”
Both figures turned. She dimly registered that the person Batman had been speaking to was Red Hood.
“Yes? What is it?” Batman questioned as he stepped forward.
Red Hood followed. The way his helmet tilted a little told her he recognized her. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
Athanasia made it halfway across the roof before she faltered. Her father was…an imposing man. If she hadn’t grown up in the place she did, she would probably be fearful of him because of it. Instead it just caught her off guard. Seeing him in person, up close, was…
Well. Unexpected.
She blinked and forced herself to stay on track. To not get distracted. She stopped a few or so feet away, wary to get too close. “We need your help,” she started off with. “My…acquaintances and I – we have someone who needs medical attention that only the Batcave will be able to provide for, and I need you to take us there.”
“The Batcave,” he repeated.
“Yes. A regular hospital is out of the question.” Her eyes flickered around the roof. Something wasn’t right. “I would take him there myself but I do not know where it is.”
What wasn’t right?
“I have no idea who you are. You aren’t authorized to go to the Batcave.”
“You would make an exception for us.”
“You sound sure.”
“Because I am. Just help us help him!”
“Who is ‘him’?”
“B, I don’t think it’s time for an interrogation right now,” Red Hood said.
“My…” Athanasia stilled. She knew what wasn’t right. Her entire body tensed. “Where’s Robin?”
Her father’s posture changed. Right; Batman was protective of Robin.
But as his older sister, so was she.
“Out,” he said. “Listen, you’re injured, and I understand you need help but–”
“What do you mean ‘out’? As in patrolling? Out of town? Country? Earth itself?”
Red Hood took a step towards her. “Whoa, kid, relax. It’s okay–”
“Where Robin is isn’t your business–”
Red Hood muttered a curse.
“Not my business?” she seethed. “Knowing where he is, is most definitely my business. I am not asking for dental records – it’s a simple answer to a simple question.”
“I–”
“My twin brother is dying in the backseat of a van, and my little brother is not by our father’s side like I thought he would be, so please just tell me where he is so I know at least one of them will be okay! I–”
“Hey! Hey,” Red Hood interrupted. “Robin is okay! He’s okay, alright? I promise. He twisted his ankle pretty badly the other night and the old man benched him until it’s healed. That’s all. You can breathe, kid.”
“I am.” Barely. It felt like she had been running for hours. She was out of breath; her intake of air had increased in the past few minutes. Her throat was back to being tight, but so was her chest, this time.
“Yes, you are, but your breathing is too fast,” Red Hood said. “You need to slow down–”
“There is no time to slow down!” she shouted. Her feet moved backwards when Red Hood tried to come closer to her. “I had the GPS taking us to the manor, but it’s worse off than we thought, and I would take him to the Batcave if I knew where it was–”
“How many of you are there?”
Athanasia blinked rapidly. Out of surprise, not because she was about to cry. She snapped her eyes back up to her father. “What?”
“You said you had acquaintances with you. How many?” He was doing something on his gauntlet, a hologram-like screen faintly glowing above it. She tried to make out the words backwards but gave up pretty quickly.
“Six in total,” she said. “Myself included. They do not know your identity.”
He hummed. “Are all of you injured?”
“Except for one, my– our getaway driver. Danny is the worst off.”
“Hard to believe, you’re pretty banged up yourself, kid,” Red Hood muttered, with a small motion to her entire body.
“They vivisected him.” The words hadn’t meant to come out, but they did.
Batman and Red Hood stilled.
The latter sucked in a breath of air. “Jesus.”
“The Batmobile is on its way,” her father tensely informed her. He stalked forward, and she was expecting him to walk passed her so she was thoroughly surprised when he stopped in front of her. He raised a hand and her body tensed for another time that night. She didn’t know what she was else expecting, but it wasn’t a comforting hold on her shoulder; it wasn’t a comforting tone and assurance. “Your brother is okay. Your twin is going to be okay.”
Athanasia stared at the hand on her shoulder. It took a second or two to finally tear her gaze from it, and look at her father’s cowl covered face instead.
“I promise.”
+++
The sound of footsteps gradually becoming louder alerted him that someone was about to disrupt his peace.
“Hey, I’m going to bed.”
Peace officially disrupted.
Damian looked up from his sketchbook long enough to spot Duke Thomas poking his head into the living room, before focusing back on the drawing he was working on. “Okay.”
“And Bruce wanted me to remind you to finish your homework if you haven’t already.”
He sighed. “I have.”
“And Alf says no sweets if you have any snacks.”
“Okay,” he said, annoyance seeping through.
“And they both say not to stay up too late or walk too much on your ankle–”
“Leave me be and rest your empty skull on the warm side of your pillow before I stab this pencil through your jugular.”
Thomas snickered. It occurred to him, then, that the older teen had continued on to annoy him on purpose. It worked. That annoyed Damian even more.
“Alright, alright. I’m leaving,” Thomas said through another chuckle. “Goodnight, Damian!” he called as he walked off.
He huffed. “Goodnight.”
Duke Thomas was Father’s newest addition to his ever growing brood. The older boy wasn’t adopted (at least, not yet), only fostered. His parents were still alive – just victims of Joker Venom. They found a cure, although it wasn’t instantaneous, so Elaine and Doug Thomas were slowly healing and recovering with the help of professionals while their son stayed here.
Damian was sort of surprised he was still here. He had an uncle he could go to, and who he did visit often, but he had chose to stay. Not that Damian wanted him to go – he actually didn’t mind Thomas that much anymore. He liked to think they got along well, even if sometimes the atmosphere was awkward, or when they deliberately annoyed one another.
Recently when the two either merely existed in the same room doing nothing, or ventured into the city out of boredom, Drake tagged along. Or was the one to drive them around. It had been tense at first. It was less so, now. Damian truly didn’t know how to feel about it.
He stopped drawing and stared at the page. He erased a few lines that didn’t look right and grabbed his phone, unlocking it to study the reference picture he was using. Just as he was about to put it down, his phone vibrated with a text.
It was from Drake – in the groupchat he made that included himself, Damian, and Duke. Damian tried to leave it multiple times only for Drake to add him back every single time.
drake
hey
evrrhthing ok at the manor??
thomas
yeah
i’m about to go to bed, damian is sketching in the living room & alfred is in the basement
why
is something wrong?
drake
idk but b is heading back
w jason
neither have have said a word they wont answer
thomas
that’s sus
you guys have only been gone for what?? 45 min at least
drake
yea
barbara cant even get ahold of them
hey little d
bat brat
u sure ur ok
Damian rolled his eyes. Drake was almost as bad as Father and Richard when it came to hovering if he got hurt, the buffoon simply showed it differently. He only twisted his ankle; nothing major.
And if his back had been hurting him the past week, nobody had to know.
…Except for Pennyworth and Richard. They knew of the metal in his spine and the damaged nerves, and so he told them when the sharp aches and pains kept coming back.
Alfred insisted it was just a few nerves growing back.
Damian focused back to the groupchat. Drake had resorted to spamming it because he took too long to respond. Obnoxious plebeian.
He took a picture of his legs covered by the blanket he was using. One knee was propped up to angle his sketch book right, while the other was stretched out as his injured ankle rested on a small pillow. Alfred the cat was fast asleep, curled into a circle, on the arm of the couch, while Titus made himself small enough to lay on the couch beside his outstretched leg. He sent the picture with nothing else. Drake stopped his spamming and liked it while Thomas sent another text asking what Damian was drawing.
With that, he put his phone down – only for it to start vibrating repeatedly. A phone call.
He somewhat expected it to be Drake, but still wasn’t that surprised to see it was Father, instead.
“Father?” Damian answered the call. “Drake said you were heading back. With Todd.”
“Yes.” Father’s voice was rough, but in a distinct way that Damian knew it wasn’t his Batman voice. In the background he heard the rumble of the Batmobile. “We are. And we have some company with us.”
His brows lowered. “Is everything okay?”
Silence.
Damian sat up and tucked his foot under his other leg’s thigh. Titus shifted, getting off of the couch to lay on the floor instead. “Father?” Carefully, he closed his sketchbook and set it on the coffee table.
Thomas decided to walk back in, at that moment. “Hey, I…” He trailed off when he saw that Damian was on the phone. “Is that Bruce?”
“Father, is–”
“Do you have an older sister?”
Damian froze. He even stopped breathing for a second. Did he know? If he did, how? Was it Mother, was she in Gotham? Did she tell Father? Athanasia told him not to tell him or anyone else, and he hadn’t. Why was he asking this? Were they okay?
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Cassandra–”
“I’m not talking about by adoption, son,” Father interrupted. “Biologically, do you have a sister? Or even a brother?”
He involuntarily sucked in sharply. If Father heard it, he didn’t make any indication that he did.
“She would be around Tim’s age, seventeen or eighteen. Five foot eight, ten at most. She mentioned a twin brother.”
Damian kept his eyes on Titus. He ignored Thomas stepping further into the living room to stand near the couch. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said. “She said not to.”
“Who? Talia?”
“No.”
“Your sister.” Damian stayed quiet. “Why?”
“I don’t– do not…” How was he supposed to answer that? He had no idea why Athanasia told him not to tell Father, but Damian refused to break the promise he made her. Yes, he wanted to tell Father – all the time, so badly – but it was the last thing Athanasia asked of him. Even the idea of breaking that promise felt wrong. Even now, even though he somehow knew. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and hated how childlike he sounded.
“…It’s not your fault, chum. We will be at the Cave soon. If– when,” he corrected, “you come down, put on a mask. They have acquaintances who don’t know our secret identities.”
“Yes, sir. Are they okay?”
Father didn’t immediately respond. It sent warning bells through his mind. “We’re about to be at the cave.”
“Wait, Father–”
The call ended.
Damian let out a huff of frustration. He went to call him back, but stopped.
Athanasia was in Gotham. She went to Father for help. Did that mean she called him on the League communicator and he missed it? Did he? It sounded like she needed help, they both did, and he…
Damian vaulted off of the couch. Thomas shouted after him, but he ignored him and the pain in his ankle as ran through the halls and up the stairs to his room. He took the communicator out from its hiding spot under his mattress.
Nothing. No calls or messages. Not a single thing.
Why did she go to Father and not him?
Damian sent a message. It didn’t go through, just like the past hundreds of times. He tried a call, it did the same thing.
“Damian! Don’t run away like that, man, you’re gonna hurt your ankle more,” Thomas reprimanded as he finally caught up. “I’m sorta responsible for you right now, and I don’t feel like getting Alfred’s disappointed look because you’re running around.”
The words went through one ear and out the other.
He cursed in Arabic and tossed the device onto his bed. He snatched an emergency mask from a drawer of his bedside table, and left the room.
“Damian,” shouted Thomas. “Seriously, dude!”
“If you follow me to the Batcave, put on a mask,” Damian said. “We have guests.”
Whatever his foster brother’s response was, Damian didn’t hear it. He rushed down the stairs, simultaneously putting on his mask, and then ran to the study where the clock was. Standing on his toes, he moved the clock’s hands to the correct time and squeezed through before the secret door opened all the way.
As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he slowed. A cacophony of noise grew as he got further into the cave. He stopped on the last step and just stared.
Whatever he had been expecting, it was not a group of injured teenagers talking over each other to his father and the family’s grandfather of a butler. Todd stood a few feet away from the group, back to Damian. He seemed to be merely watching the scene unfold.
“We’ve taken care of him before, we know how to do stitches!” a girl with short black hair shouted. “This isn’t new to–”
“He’s not– you need to let us help,” a black kid argued. “We know what to do for him–”
“I have already seen it!” And there’s Athanasia. “It is not a pretty sight, I know, but I can help–”
“None of you are in shape to help Penny-One,” Batman tried to speak over them.
“I am!” Another girl. She held a red and black helmet in her arms that matched a vigilante-like suit she wore. “Please, just let us–”
“We’re his friends! Please–”
“We– Well, I don’t but they do – they know what to do,” a red headed boy said. “He’s different, you’ll need their–”
A sharp whistle cut through the air, so sudden even Damian flinched. As did Thomas, who appeared at his side the instant it happened.
Everyone quieted immediately, eyes falling to Jason Todd. The helmet was off, but a red domino still covered his eyes.
“Everyone shut up or else it will be too late for anyone to help anybody,” the young man snapped, “Let Penny-One do what he does on a regular basis. I promise, he knows what he is doing, and has seen his fair share of bad injuries between the eerily large brood he cares for. Even if he did need help, it would not be from any of you. Like Batman said, none of you are the right shape to help – either from exhaustion or injuries or both, each one of you looks like shit. So sit your asses down, let the professional do his job, and take a breather.”
No one said a word. No one moved.
“Thank you, Red Hood,” Pennyworth said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a patient to care for.” He ducked behind a curtain he and Father were guarding. Damian wasn’t able to get a glimpse of the person behind it.
In the back of his mind, he knew who it was. It didn’t dissuade his worry.
Father stared down the teenagers.
The girl with short black hair and gothic clothes glared harshly back at him. Angry, she spun around with a scoff and stomped over to a chair, a palm on her forehead the entire way.
“Sam,” the black boy called after her and followed. They quietly began talking to each other.
The girl in the red and black suit and the redhead boy glanced at each other. The former shrugged helplessly, and the latter frowned in response, looking away.
Damian finally looked – truly looked – at Athanasia. Todd was right: she looked like shit; they all did. But his big sister had the most blood on her, and a green substance on her hands and right side that had a too close resemblance to Lazarus Pit water. She had numerous injuries that were bandaged hastily, but not enough for all of the blood to be hers. It looked as if she tried to scratch some of it off on the few areas of exposed skin, only for it to not work. Her black hair was in a ponytail that had once been neat; now, curly strands were loose and framing her face, and the ponytail itself was unkempt.
The others didn’t look that much better. Except for the redhead. He just looked stressed and exhausted and worried.
Damian shifted a foot forward, then back to its original spot.
He didn’t know what to do. Say her name? Simply walk up? Run back upstairs? He didn’t want to make a scene, but he also wanted to go up to his sister.
He spotted Ace laying down near the bat-computer. Silently, decision abruptly made, he moved in that direction.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Um… B?”
Damian stopped, freezing behind Todd. He looked over to Thomas and glared. The older teen didn’t acknowledge him other than a split second glance.
“D– Signal? What are you doing down here?”
Todd shifted. Damian moved with him. He turned his head slowly and sent Damian a suspicious side eye.
“Oh, uh… Red Robin contacted us – said you were coming back here. I just want to make sure you don’t need any help,” said Thomas.
Todd reached behind him with the hand that wasn’t holding his helmet, and aimed for Damian. He pinched Todd’s wrist when it got close enough, making him hiss in pain.
“We might– Hood?”
Todd shook his hand. “Sorry. Bug bit me.”
Father continued speaking with Thomas, who walked further into the Cave.
“Brat,” Todd hissed under his breath.
Damian didn’t deign him a response. Once it was clear everyone else was distracted, he continued his way to the bat-computer in the shadows. When he got there, he crawled underneath the desk. Ace moved to lay his head in Damian’s lap.
His hiding spot didn’t stay hidden for long, though.
Someone silently walked over. Then, they crouched down and slotted their body next to his under the desk.
“Did Todd tell you where I am?” he asked. It came out more petulant than he intended.
“No. I saw you when you first came down.”
“Tt.” Damian muttered, “…You smell vile.”
Athanasia hummed. “And you are still short.”
There was a shakiness to her voice he didn’t like. It kept him from automatically responding with another insult.
He turned his head to look at her again.
Her eyes were staring at nothing in particular. Her breathing was a bit too fast for comfort, sort of choppy too. Tension lined her entire body.
“Stretch out your legs,” he said quietly.
She eyed him in question. He motioned for her to hurry up. Hesitant, she eventually did it. Then, he wasted no time in ordering Ace to lay on her legs.
Athanasia sucked in sharply. Her hands lifted to her chest. “Dames–”
“You won’t hurt him,” he interrupted. “He won’t hurt you.”
He was aware of why she was so hesitant – almost afraid, even. She tried to hide it from him, but League trainers had forced her to slaughter animals. Those same trainers did that to him a couple times, too, after she left. Apparently it was to make them stronger and better assassins. Less prone to weaknesses.
He wondered if Dányál had to go through that. If Mother knew.
Damian didn’t think she did, but…
Athanasia kept her hands to her chest.
“So, you found him?” Damian asked. He kept his voice low, and scooted closer to her.
She nodded. “Yes. He is… He will be okay,” she said, keeping her voice low like he did. “I apologize for taking so long.”
Damian didn’t know how to respond to that. It made a flicker of anger from in his chest. She was sorry for being gone for so long, but not for leaving?
“…He isn’t a clone?” was his next question.
“No.” Her arm lifted, and for once he let her pull him into her side in a hug. He wasn’t big on touch, and Athanasia wasn’t either, but she was definitely more tactile than he was in some ways. From what he remembered, she and Dányál had hugged a lot.
“Are you positive?” His mind flashed to Heretic. He held back a wince, twisting until his back was into her side and her arm wrapped around his chest. He had to bend his knees so he could fit all the way under the desk.
“Yes.”
“You made sure of it?”
Athanasia stayed quiet for a moment. He felt her eyes on the top of his head. “I did,” she said. “Penny-One is aiding our brother. Not a clone, or a shapeshifter, or anyone else. Dányál.” She paused. “I intended on going to the manor instead. Then, I saw our father, and demanded he take us here.”
“Why the manor?”
“I did not know where the cave was.”
Damian stared at his knees.
There was no way.
Did he hear that right? It was jarring. He grew up thinking his big sister knew everything.
How did she not know this?
“Athanasia,” he whispered.
“What?”
“The Batcave is below the manor,” he told her in Arabic.
For seven seconds (yes, he counted) Athanasia didn’t say anything. Then, “It is what?!” she hissed in a harsh whisper.
Damian felt a laugh coming up, and did his best to keep it quiet. His shoulders still shook. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” she muttered. “Thank you making me feel stupid.”
“My pleasure. I will be sure to do it again.”
She huffed a small, wet laugh. “Brat.” Her arm wrapped around the front of his chest more, and her hand gripped his shoulder. A second later, he felt her place a kiss on the crown of his head.
Damian couldn’t help but grip her arm back. One hand on her forearm, the other on her bicep. He pressed his knees closer to his body.
“I missed you,” he whispered through the lump in his throat.
She sniffled, and whispered back into his hair, “I missed you, too.”
A blanket of silence fell over them. Damian heard Father speaking to the others, his voice overlapping with Thomas’ and one of Athanasia’s acquaintances. Footsteps softly echoed as they all moved about near the medbay. They should probably go over there soon.
Damian didn’t want to. For the first time in four years it was just him and his big sister, hiding under a desk that was reminiscent of them hiding in an alcove back in the League just to spend time together. It hardly felt real. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared this was just some sort of dream.
“Can we stay here for a little bit longer?”
Her arm tightened around him again. “Absolutely.”
+++
It took a good while for someone to come look for them, which surprised Damian, but he was relieved and thankful no one came sooner. He wasn’t about to complain about the silent one-on-one time squished underneath the desk, uncomfortable as it was.
It also gave them time to stop any tears they let loose.
He eventually moved out from under her arm, and sat beside her. It took a bit of time. Damian wanted to say it was because he was done with the physical touch, that he let go. The truth of the matter was that he had to force himself to, to mentally talk himself into doing it. It was irrational, but he was scared that the moment he let go she would leave him again.
That didn’t happen. She didn’t get up and leave, or disappear, or anything of the sort. She stayed right beside him.
As he scratched Ace behind the ears, Athanasia merely watched. She kept her hands away from the dog. When he moved to lay down across both of their laps, she stiffened until he stilled, arms crossed over her stomach.
That was how they were found.
The large boots and bottom of a black cape were unmistakable.
Father crouched down, the half of his face that wasn’t covered by the cowl betraying nothing. It made Damian want to squirm. Was he mad? That he kept Athanasia and Dányál a secret?
“You two weren’t easy to find,” he said. He sounded more like Bruce Wayne than Batman. It was comforting, in a way. “Your friends got worried when they didn’t see you around.”
“Acquaintances,” she corrected. “And I am fine, I have no idea why they would worry.”
Damian gave her an incredulous look. “You’re covered in blood.”
“A lot of it does not belong to me.”
“Mostly yours or not, your injuries still need to be taken care of,” Father said. “The Wes kid said you weren’t able to clean them properly.”
Athanasia’s face did something quick and complicated that Damian couldn’t decipher. Her mouth settled into an annoyed frown before he could really question it. “Of course he did,” she muttered.
“And you, chum, need to get off the ground and prop your ankle up,” Father said. The man, with gentle hands, inspected the aforementioned ankle. “With ice. The swelling is worse again. Did you run on it?”
He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to admit he ran, either.
“…Maybe.”
“Hn.” Father stood. The joints of his knees popping and a quiet groan didn’t go unnoticed. “Come on out. Let’s get you both some medical attention. Ace, get up, boy. Up.”
The German Shepherd did as told.
“I didn’t do anything to it,” Damian grumbled as he scooted out and pulled himself to his feet with the help of Father’s hand. Putting weight on his ankle definitely hurt worse than it had before, though…
“It won’t hurt to check.”
Athanasia came out from under the desk next. As she stood, also with the help of Father, he noticed she seemed to be in more pain than when he first entered the cave. That made sense; the adrenaline had to have worn off by now, allowing the pain finally register.
Once she was steady on her feet, she stepped a little away from Father. “Thank you,” she said. “For bringing us here.”
“Of course,” Father said. “If you need to stay here, you can. I will even open up the manor to you and your fr– acquaintances. Whatever aids you the best and keeps you safe from whatever you’re running from.”
She nodded once. Her eyes, glassy with tears, blinked rapidly, and she turned to head to the empty medical cots.
Damian watched her, exhausted and hurting, then looked to the curtain hiding away Pennyworth and Dányál.
Danny is extremely weak and injured and he really hates overshadowing people. He does the next best thing: takes over the shadow of a person. Unknowingly, Danny just possessed the shadow of Red Robin.
It doesn't vocalize its disagreement, but it does subtly move, gesticulate, and generally give off vibes. Subtle enough to be mistaken for a trick of the light if you aren't watching it closely for a few minutes, yet clear enough to subconsciously pick up on.
Now, Tim is just wondering how the hell his own shadow, an entity bound to his own movements and incapable of facial expressions, is managing to give him an Alfred level deadpan disappointed stare. Damn he needs caffeine. Another glance at his shadow and; again, despite having no face to express, he's 94% sure it just did Alfred's patented arched brow. Maybe he should turn in early and get some sleep.
As Danny gets stronger he will reach an arm out of the shadow to take the cookies and plate into the shadow with him. Eventually Alfred brings him some post its and a pencil and they become penpals of sorts. Danny eventually reveals to Alfred Through these notes that he's a ghost that got weakened by some kind of battle and needed a place to hide and rest to regain strength. So possessed Tim's shadow for now. Alfred starts bringing the shadow 3 meals a day.
3 square meals a day is doing wonders for Danny's recovery.
He's not quite ready to climb out of Tim's shadow yet, but he is strong enough to start subtly helping on patrol. Little things, of course. A slick patch here an untied shoe there. Not leaving Tim's shadow means his influence is a bit constrained to places where Tim's shadow crosses. But Danny still helps how he can. It's nothing much.
At least, not until Tim finds himself in some real danger. A mission gone sideways a clown with a gun to Red Robin's head on live stream. And Danny, possibly panicking slightly, definitely not wanting to find out first hand what the insides of human people looks like. He just kind of reacts. The clown is fortunately standing on Tim's shadow, so it's a simple matter to turn the floor there intangible and let the clown fall into the sewers.
The whole of Gotham watches Red Robin's shadow eat the Joker live.
Danny got extra desserts that night. And the rogues of Gotham are now more afraid of Red Robin. As if the crazy bastard wasn't scary enough. Tim of course need a to have words with his shadow. because, what did you do?
The problem is how to get an answer. Tim can yell and talk and argue all he wants but it doesn't change the fact that his shadow is a shadow. It doesn't have a face and it doesn't talk. It takes him almost a week to figure out the post it note trick
"Okay... oh-kay!" Tim took a forceful breath as he processed, My shadow is possessed by some sort of shadow monster. Wow! I'm... I'm gonna need a moment."
The shadow gives a shrug, as if to say "what can ya do."
"I'm guessing this means my secret identity and the identity of my siblings are all pretty much obsolete, right?"
There's clacking as the shadow types:
CONSOLATION HERO TOO
"You're a hero?"
SMALL TIME NEVER HEARD
"A small time hero I would have never heard of. Ok. Good to know. Why are you in Gotham?"
I’d Give You My Lungs So You Can Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) [CH2]
AO3 Link / Ch1 / Next / Masterlist
summary:
Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.
Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.
a/n:
here’s chapter 2!! ch3 will be up in a few days :)
warnings for entire fic:
canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: mentioned/implied vivisection, but i don’t go into detail; athanasia mercilessly kills so many people; violence; blood; i think that’s it?
CHAPTER TWO —
When the first appearances of the Guys in White were seen back in October, Danny had no idea it would lead to this—
Locked to a metal table with scientists surrounding him and two assassins on guard at the door.
That was really all he was aware of. Everything else? Only pain. A dull burning pain that went throughout his entire body, and the cause was the IV attached to his arm. The contents were unknown, but Danny knew some percent of it was made out of blood blossoms – just enough that it didn’t kill him; just enough that it rendered him useless against them.
A metal mask covered his mouth and nose. It kept him from speaking, or biting, or screaming.
There were one or two other things that did something… Danny didn’t remember. It’s all been so fuzzy lately. It made something in the back of his mind panic.
More pain washed through him. It was worse this time, like it always was. Each day hurt a little more. Each day he got a little weaker.
What were they doing to him?
Danny squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed through it the best he could.
His chest ached, as if there was an open wound.
He peeled opened his eyes.
Oh. Right. That’s what they were doing to him.
Vivisection…again.
Lovely.
He distantly heard the door open. The scientists began to speak; a conversation started above him that wasn’t about his guts, for once. He did his best to focus on listening to them.
“…ill haven’t found the ghost’s core…” one said. “There is a high chance he won’t survive another operation after this one.”
“As long as he survives this one,” a different voice said.
And it was…familiar? Why–
A hand touched his hair. He flinched involuntarily, eyes rapidly blinking. When his vision focused and he trailed his eyes upward, fear gripped him instantly.
“I want the pleasure of killing you for good, Phantom,” the face from his nightmares spoke. “Or should I say,” the grip on his hair tightened and the man sneered, “Dányál.”
+++
Voices filtered through the vent grate from the room they were over. Three people were at the console; in front of them, multiple screens showing the security camera’s feeds played before the operatives’ eyes. A few of them were loops, curtesy of Tucker Foley and his way with technology.
Two more people were in the security room, as well, but they didn’t speak. Athanasia could just make out the edges of their shadows from where they stood at the door. They stood stock still; posed and ready to begin fighting at a moment’s notice.
Three GIW Operatives. Two members of the League of Assassins. Five in total.
She’s had worse odds.
Mentally, she quickly devised a plan that wouldn’t get them caught, and then acted.
Ever so slowly and quietly, she lifted the grate. One of the GIW operatives stood up and stretched. The man moved to stand directly under the grate, unaware of Athanasia and unknowingly making this a bit easier – something she was definitely not going to complain about.
She dropped out of the vent, directly on top of the operative and consequently knocking him out. Drawing one gun from the holster on her back, she shot the two League of Assassins members before they could even react. Thanks to the silencer on it, the gunshots were barely audible, and two bodies fell to the floor with twin thuds.
She then threw two manji shurikens at the operative who reached to call in reinforcements. One went into the back of his hand, and the other his forearm. At the same, the third operative rushed at her. Just in time, she dodged to the side and pulled out a dagger, finding a home for it in the man’s gut, slicing upwards. She trained the gun on the one she threw the shurikens at, and a bullet landed right between the eyes, slumping in the chair he never got a chance to get out of.
The man she landed on began to move. She stomped on his temple with the heel of her boot, hard enough to kill. The man went limp immediately.
“It’s safe,” she called, and moved two of the bodies from underneath the vent. Blood was already pooling and made sure not to step in it. “Do not land in the blood, unless you want to be the one to get us caught by tracking red footprints everywhere.”
Red Huntress, AKA Valerie Gray, came down first. She whistled lowly as she took in the room. “Damn,” she muttered. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were an assassin.”
Next came Samantha Manson as Athanasia went to move the two LoA members from the door. She glanced over her shoulder as Manson said, “You didn’t believe her with all the weapons she carries?”
Red Huntress slipped off her helmet. “Excuse me for not immediately believing someone when they tell me they’re the long lost twin assassin of our friend. Which, by the way, I’m still iffy on the twin thing. You’re too different.”
Athanasia raised an eyebrow. “Wow, it is almost as if we are fraternal twins with different personalities, and have been separated for eight years.”
Red Huntress rolled her eyes. “Geez, okay. Chill with the smartass-ness.”
“Look, I understand your distrust, Valerie,” Manson said, “and I didn’t believe it at first, either, but who else could she be?”
“You can still be a genetically altered clone,” Tucker Foley said from where he was wiggling out backwards of the vent. “Like Ellie.”
“I can promise you that I am not.”
“Not helping, Tucker.”
Foley finally fell down. Athanasia was quick to move, and placed a hand on his shoulder as he became unbalanced.
“Don’t put your left foot down,” she ordered.
He froze. “Um.”
She turned him until he wasn’t about to step in a puddle of blood, and then let go. “Okay.”
He hesitated, but did put his foot down. Then, he took a large side step away from both the blood and Athanasia. “Thanks,” he said, a little awkwardly.
She nodded once. Then, turning on her comm while wiping off her dagger on her pant leg and sheathing it, she said, “Weston, do you copy?”
Foley moved to the many consoles of the computers. He sat down in a chair, the furthest from the one with the dead body, and pulled out equipment from his backpack. Manson followed and watched the screens with a keen eye, and Red Huntress stayed near the door, though watched the camera feeds as well.
“Loud and clear, Phantom’s twin,” Wesley Weston replied. “Your get away car and it’s driver are in position.”
“Good. Stay connected to this line. Depending on how fast everything goes down, we will need extraction at a moment’s notice.”
“You got it, dude.”
“Have I mentioned how nice these comms are?” Foley questioned. “Because I’m in love with them.”
“Only about a hundred times,” said Manson.
“Can you blame me? Even scrambling their signature with ectoplasm, the sound is so clear. No type of ghostly feedback whatsoever. I need them for myself once we’re done here.” As he talked, he worked on connecting with the GIW’s system, hacking away undetected. “Where did you get them?”
“I stole one from Batman and then replicated it.”
Silence fell. Foley froze for a second time, and Manson’s expression turned into shocked disbelief. Red Huntress mouth parted in surprise.
Then, all at once, they began speaking.
“No way you did that–.”
“You’ve met Batman?! Do you know his identity because I have a theory–”
“Everything you say makes me more confused–.”
“You replicated tech from Batman?!”
“Guys. Guys!” Athanasia raised her voice. “Focus,” she snapped. “We are on a time limit, here.”
“But–”
“Shut up, Weston,” she ground out.
Wesley let out a disappointed sigh.
“The shift changes in forty-five minutes,” she reminded them. “Unless we want GIW operatives and more assassins to find us earlier than planned, I suggest we get to work on saving Danny.”
That settled things down quickly.
Part of her regretted not doing this by herself, which had been the original plan, even way back when she first heard her twin was within GIW custody. She had been so tempted to go in there with no plan at all, to find Danny and get him out. But she wasn’t familiar with the GIW. Luckily, she knew who was, and she went to them.
(Neither Manson or Tucker trusted her, or even believed her, those first couple of weeks.)
Even still, she sent a message to Damian asking him to look up the Ghost Investigation Ward. She didn’t get an immediate response from him – not like it mattered. The moment Danny’s best friends allowed her to work with them on saving him, Foley had created a device that scrambled any and all tech to keep them from the GIW’s eyes, and consequently everyone else outside of their area.
And then she learned the League of Assassins were working with the GIW, for some reason.
She tried to back out, to convince them to let her do this part by herself. The League was dangerous, simply put, and she didn’t want anyone, especially the people Danny cared most about, to get hurt or worse by them. But Danny had a good group of friends who were particularly stubborn and headstrong. As annoying as it was, she did like that about them. It meant they weren’t going to give up the search anytime soon.
Valerie Gray and Wesley Weston joined in on the mission a few weeks ago, when she and Manson and Foley were finalizing the plan. They realized it would be best to bring in another person or two, just in case.
And so, she was stuck with what they deemed as ‘Team Phantom’. A group of not so regular teens from a haunted town, who were definitely a little odd but trustworthy.
Team Phantom was good – each of them in their own ways.
So, as much as she regretted this, she also was glad she decided not to go in alone. It was easier. Nicer.
They also may be growing on her. Like mold, or moss, or fungi, or something.
She didn’t really know how to feel about that.
“Okay,” Foley mumbled. “Let’s see… Ah, 3D floor plans. Sweet.” He pulled up the floor plans on his laptop. “So we’re here,” a green dot appeared on the 3D floor plan where the security room was, “on the first floor. These are the exits,” he highlighted them in a light orange, “and the far left ventilation shaft on the roof is where we came in,” it was highlighted a darker purple while the rest of the vent system became more of a lilac color, “There’s three floors, not including what seems to be a secret basement. It’s not on the original floor plans I found, but it is on here and there are cameras.”
“That’s probably where they’re keeping Danny,” Red Huntress said as she walked up.
Foley pulled up the basement cameras. Empty holding cells filled up three of the screens. All of them were closed, except for one. The door was left open, with only part of a thin mattress on a metal frame in sight because of the angle.
“Are there any cameras for the room at the end of the hall?” Manson asked, cutting into the disappointed silence. She pointed at one screen, where a inconspicuous door could be seen.
Athanasia kept her eyes on the screens as Foley worked. Worry are her up alive on the inside, but she refused to show it.
“…No,” he said, and the disappointed silence returned.
“That’s not suspicious at all,” Red Huntress muttered sarcastically.
“Yes, there has to be a reason there are no cameras,” agreed Athanasia.
The other girl suggested, “I can check down there after I comb through the first floor like we originally planned.”
She frowned a little. “It may be heavily guarded.”
“I regularly fight ghosts. This is nothing.”
“From what the cameras can see, the basement doesn’t have many guards,” said Foley. “Operatives are walking around, and maybe one or two of those assassins, but other than that there’s no one.”
“Then Danny’s not there,” Manson said.
“If you really are up to it,” started Athanasia, “you should still check it out, Red Huntress. Perhaps there might be something the Doctors Fentons left behind before Danny was able to send them to the Infinite Realms.”
If that was where they were. Manson and Foley explained to her that had been the original plan when Danny went to save them.
Red Huntress nodded with determination. “I’m up for it, definitely.”
“Which floor is most heavily guarded?”
Foley’s eyes went from the security feeds to his computer, back and forth again and again. “From what I can tell from the cameras, they’re all equally distributed on each floor. Definitely one of the top floors, though.”
“There are some labs on the second floor,” Manson commented. She pointed at another screen, where one operative entered a room as he held some sort of vial and clipboard. She then pointed to a different feed from the same floor, where it showed a couple of operatives leaving a room with mechanics of some sort. “I’ll take this floor. Destroy what they have by planting the bombs, take what may help us figure out how to fight against them better, and what they might have gotten out of Jack and Maddie.”
“So, that leaves Athanasia with the third floor, and me here corrupting any files in their system they about Danny and ghosts in general, while also leading you guys around to avoid getting caught,” Foley concluded. “Right?”
“Right,” the girls chorused.
“Send Weston a file of the 3D floor plan,” Athanasia ordered. “It will aid him in knowing the possible exits he might have to meet us at.”
“Oh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Wesley said.
“I figured.”
“Hey, rude.”
She ignored him. She went over to the body in the chair, and took back her manji shurikens. Like she did with the dagger, she wiped off the blood on her pant leg, and put them back in their respective sheaths along her thigh, nestled with the others.
Mentally, she quickly made note of her other weapons. The gun holstered on her right thigh, and the dagger sheathed on the calf of the same leg; the twin swords sheathed in an X on her back; two more guns holstered at her lower back, which were made with knives that came out of the grip when needed. She had hidden types of shurikens, a small knife hidden in the sole of both boots, and not to mention her fists and feet and teeth. (Biting was very effective, okay?)
Red Huntress had her usual weapons, plus the bombs, as did Manson and Foley. Athanasia made sure they knew how to handle them correctly one more time.
And then the search and rescue began.
Red Huntress parted with Athanasia and Manson at the security room’s door. Foley led the former one down the hall, while the latter two were led to the staircase. One floor up, and Manson parted from her to scope out the second floor.
Foley spoke the most, informing them of incoming GIW or LoA people. Red Huntress gave a few updates on the bomb placements, and Manson, after having slipped into the first empty room on the second floor, told them she found pieces of a prototype of the Fenton’s portal machine.
“Take the important pieces if you know what they are. Place a bomb on the rest to destroy them,” Athanasia told her.
“I’m taking the blueprints, too. We can check to see if they’re at all accurate with Danny later,” replied Sam.
“Where the hell did he come from,” Foley’s voice came through, confusing the girls.
“What? Who?” Manson asked.
“Some regal, evil looking dude is in the basement. I think he came out of the room that doesn’t have cameras, but I’m not one hundred percent sure… Is it just a thing that bad middle aged men have pointy-ish hair?”
Athanasia faltered three steps away from reaching the third floor. “What.”
“Plasmius’ hair curls up, so it sort of looks like devil horns or something. This guy’s hair is similar but not as dramatic, and the points are more on the sides than the top of his head, but I think it’s because it’s just slicked back. Guy’s got a thing for dark green, too.”
Dread began to fill her gut.
“Maybe I can meet him half way and beat some answers out of him,” Red Huntress bit out.
“Do not,” Athanasia hissed. “Stay the hell away from that man, and do not go into the basement until he is out.”
“Why not?” asked Manson. “It’s just an old dude, apparently. We have experience fighting them.”
“Unfortunately,” Red Huntress grouched. “Is he another Vlad? Because I do not want to deal with that.”
“He’s getting in the elevator, so Val should be safe if–.”
“If you go against him, you will die. What floor is he going to?”
“Let me get into the right elevator’s cams… It looks like he pressed for the third floor.”
Her breath hitched, and Athanasia cursed in Arabic under her breath. A sneer formed on her face. She took a step back, only to nearly slip off of the step. Quickly, she rebalanced and turned, and hurried back down the stairs.
…Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe she jumped to conclusions too fast.
“Is he gray at the temples? Tall? Goatee minus the chin hair and mustache?”
“Um… yeah.”
Okay. She didn’t jump to conclusions.
“Okay,” she muttered. “Okay,” she repeated in Arabic.
“Atha–.”
“Do not use my name,” she spoke so fast she wondered if they even understood her. “Call me…” Her mind went to the few times she aided Red Hood in Gotham from the shadows. She knew that he knew she was there, but neither one of them spoke to each other or made it known to the civilians, which freaked them out a bit when a bad guy would be impaled out of nowhere. A few had started to use a name for her. “Use Shrike.”
“Is everything okay?” Wesley asked.
The others answered ‘I don’t know’ in varying ways at the same time.
Fear gripped at her, causing her mind turn into a whirlwind. She did her best to calm down so she could think rationally about this, but the only thing her brain could truly focus on was that Ra’s al Ghul was here. Her grandfather. The man who ran a sword through her twin’s chest with no remorse.
And if he’s here… He knew Danny was alive. There was absolutely no way that he didn’t.
She didn’t plan for this. Stupid. How did she not think of the possibility of Ra’s being here?
“You all continue with your parts of the plan, except for Red Huntress. I will be going to the basement in your place; stick to the first and second floors. No one is touching the third floor.”
“Now, wait just a minute–.”
“I will not wait–.”
“Um, it’s a figure of speech–,” Foley tried, but Athanasia continued over him.
“I know that, and my statement still stands. Follow my orders unless you want to die by the sword of the Demon’s Head. Are there stairs to the basement?”
A beat of silence.
“…No. Only the elevator.” Just as she reached the stairwell’s door, Foley added, “Two assassins are about to enter your location, Ath– um. Shrike?”
Athanasia ducked behind the door as it opened. Keeping her footsteps light, she stayed next to the door as it moved to close, out of their immediate line of sight. When the door shut all the way, she lunged with her dagger in hand, grabbing one assassin from behind. One hand covered their mouth while the other lifted her to slit their throat.
Assassin #2 immediately noticed what was happening, and drew a sword to attack. Athanasia used the first one as a shield before shoving the body away as she drew one of her own swords. It didn’t take long for her to overtake Assassin #2, though they did get a couple hits in. She now had a cut on her cheek, and a bruise forming on her side from a harsh kick.
Before speaking, she muted her comm.
“Pathetic,” she sneered, holding Assassin #2 against the stairwell’s railing by her forearm on their chest and sword against their neck. “Is this really what the League has become? I was expecting a harder fight.”
“You,” they hissed, a little bit shock on their features and disbelief in their voice. “You are supposed to be dead.”
“Are you really surprised?” she questioned. “Look at who my grandfather is. But that is not what I am here for.” The blade pressed harder against skin. “I am here for Phantom. Where is he? What does the League want with him?”
“Why should I tell you? You will just kill me after.”
“And you think I will let you live if you refuse?”
The assassin raised their chin in defiance. “There is a reason you left the League, no? It is the same one why Ra’s killed your brother. The Terror Twins – both too soft and weak to follow simple orders. You and him are the pathetic ones. Not us.”
Athanasia raised an eyebrow. She didn’t verbally rise to the bait. She merely pulled back enough to where she kept the assassin in place with the sword, and removed her other arm. In a flash, Assassin #2 moved to knock the sword away, but she was faster. She drew out a gun and shot them in both knees and one shoulder.
Assassin #2 crumpled with a shout of pain.
Sword now sheathed but the gun still on hand, she bent down and lifted him back up by gripping his hair.
“That,” she began, “That was me being nice. You seem to have forgotten who I am: Athanasia al Ghul, daughter of Talia al Ghul and the greatest detective in the world, and granddaughter of Ra’s al Ghul. I was trained as a potential heir, and lead the Demon’s Fist. I am the Demon Princess of the League of Assassins, dead or alive, and let me be clear that I have not lost my touch over the years I have been gone. I know multiple ways to kill you before you can take your next breath, before you even know what is happening.
“You think I will not kill you if you refuse to give me answers? Perhaps not immediately, but I will leave you writhing in pain until it is the one thing you beg for, and who’s to say I will do it even then.
“So. Let’s try this again.” Her finger flicked the button on her gun that released the knife in the grip. The blade pressed against Assassin #2’s neck hard enough to draw blood. “Where is Phantom?”
For a moment, she thought they weren’t going to answer. Then, resigned and obviously mad about it, they told her, “There is a floor below the basement. Phantom is there.”
“See? Now was that so hard?”
The assassin stared with a heated glare. Before she could act properly, they raised their good arm and slashed at her. The knife cut into the forearm that held her gun, and instinctively she dropped it as she moved away. They lunged for a killing stab at her chest, but by then she was ready to block the attack. One hand still gripping their hair and the other now holding back the hand wielding the knife, she twisted the wrist until it broke and bashed their head into the edge of the steps.
Assassin #2 went limp.
Were they breathing? She didn’t know, nor did she care.
Careful of her now wounded arm, she picked back up her gun. The knife went back in its hiding place, and she put the gun securely in the holster. Then, she turned back on her comm.
“I know where he is.”
+++
Getting to the basement was easy. With Foley’s help, she avoided operatives and assassins on the way to the elevator, and that was that. He also unlocked the door at the far end of the basement’s hall. It had been locked via a hidden mechanical lock that she would have needed false identification for if Foley wasn’t with them. It took only just under two minutes, and then the door opened with ease.
Athanasia took a step into the doorway, and then froze.
“Shrike?” Foley asked. “Why did you stop?”
“Is she in the room?” Manson asked.
“She just, um, froze in the doorway. Are you okay? What is it?”
“…I am,” she said. “But I think it’s better if I do not tell you.”
A League issued torture room. Nothing about it said it was for the Ghost Investigation Ward.
The only thing that eased her mind a little was that it obviously hadn’t been used in a while.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and then continued on. Soon enough, she found a hidden staircase, and went down without hesitation.
“I’ve got no eyes on you, Shrike,” Foley reminded her. “Stay safe.”
“Give ‘em hell,” Manson said.
“With pleasure,” she replied back.
The hall she entered from the stairs was reminiscent of a League base. Her fingers twitched, an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach at the sight. Pushing that aside, she walked down the hall at a steady pace towards two LoA members guarding double doors.
They noticed her immediately. It quickly became a fight of two against one, but it ended just as fast. She picked up their respective swords and twirled them in her hands as she walked to the double doors, kicking them open.
Everything and everyone in the room stopped.
Athanasia didn’t give them a chance to act first. The two assassins that guarded the inside began to fight back almost instantly, but it took the GIW operatives and scientists a few seconds to do the same.
The fight was brutal. Against the most people so far today, though it wasn’t necessarily hard, it was the longest one yet. They used their numbers to their advantage and attempted to overwhelm her, but Athanasia was quick to improvise and seek out the weaker of the fighters first.
By the end, Athanasia was out of breath and bloodied (some hers, some splatters from the assassins and operatives) and bruised. There was even a burn or two from the ectoplasmic guns the GIW wielded. The two swords of the League members from the hallway were impaled through two of the scientists that had been standing over her twin.
Dányál – Danny. Currently in his Phantom form. He was strapped, locked in, on a sleek medical table and a mechanical mask over the bottom half of his face. A y-shaped wound on his torso was only partly stitched, and there was an IV of unknown substance stuck into one arm. His expression was scrunched up in pain, white hair matted with sweat and eyes squeezed shut and jaw visibly clenched even through the mask.
Athanasia pushed aside the part of her of that wanted to be sick, and rushed to his side. She carefully pulled out the IV first, locking the tube so no more liquid would get out. Then, she went to the mask.
Danny flinched back.
She halted her movements.
“Dányál,” Athanasia spoke shakily, and corrected to, “Danny,” when his expression twisted even more. “Akhi, it’s me. I have come to help you get out of here,” she said with forced steadiness in her tone.
His eyes cracked open, the usual icy blue currently a Lazarus green. There was no recognition in them. Only confusion.
She knew that would be the case, but it still hurt.
She held up her hands to show that she meant no harm. Hopefully the blood splattered on them wouldn’t cause him to freak. And to her relief, he didn’t. He slumped a little, as much as he could with already laying on the table, and she began to work on removing the mask. After flipping a few latches, it came undone with a hiss and she tossed it to the floor.
Danny gasped, jaw dropping open. He went to speak, only for his voice to get caught in his throat and cause a coughing fit.
“I think it will be best if you don’t speak,” Athanasia murmured, and moved to unlock him from the table.
The coughing subsided, then turned into groans and hisses of pain.
“My name is Athanasia,” she introduced herself. “I am here with your friends – ‘Team Phantom’ as they call themselves.” The cuffs released him, but he still had GIW issued bracelets of sorts on his wrists. It affected his abilities, if the fact that he wasn’t healing fast was any indication. The others explained he had a super fast healing ability, and right now it seemed to be nonexistent. “We are here to get you out. No matter what.”
Danny groaned. “Still… Still hurts.” His voice was rough and hoarse.
Athanasia didn’t know what to say to that. So, she smoothed back sweaty bangs from his forehead, something she knew Mother did the few times she was allowed to comfort them when no one was around, and looked around the room. A table of medical supplies were nearby. Ignoring the scalpel, she grabbed a roll of gauze and bandages. (As well as an empty vial, which she filled up with the stuff that was in the IV.)
Carefully, she helped Danny sit up.
He hissed in pain again. It shifted into a whine.
“Sorry,” she said sincerely. “This will may hurt some more. Prepare yourself.”
“Hurts,” he mumbled. “The blood…”
“There is a lot of it,” she muttered. “On both of us.”
Athanasia wrapped the gauze around his torso as quick as she could, hoping it was tight enough to stall most of the bleeding but also loose enough that it wouldn’t unravel. When she finished, she allowed him to lean against her.
She soon noticed the lack of speaking in her ear. With a slight frown, she touched the comm, and was instantly met with Team Phantom talking over each other. She must have turned hers off without realizing while fighting.
“He’s here, and alive,” Athanasia spoke. “What the hell are you guys yelling about?”
All at once, they quieted. Then—
“Oh, thank the Ancients!” Foley exclaimed. “Don’t go offline like that again!”
“…I’ll think about it,” Athanasia said, vaguely confused. Why were they so worried? She handled everything just fine. “But it’s time to get out of here.” She paused as she helped Danny off of the table, only for him to nearly collapse. She cursed, ducking to place his arm over her shoulders to hold him up that way. “…And maybe someone should come down and help me. Danny will not be walking on his own anytime today.”
+++
Leaving the hidden headquarters of the Ghost Investigation Ward was not as easy as infiltrating it. (Although, it was easier than those months of searching for it – it was hell, never knowing if they would ever track the new location down). One of the assassins who guarded the outside of the medical room Danny had been in, was able to find just enough life in themself to send an alert out about intruders.
The two basement floors quickly became a point of interest for GIW operatives and LoA members alike.
Athanasia fought like hell, though her moves were limited. Keeping them away from her twin brother and fighting at the same time was tough. He was practically limp against her side, and from his feet movements, she knew he was trying to move on his own, but – body weakened and powers snuffed out because of the GIW cuffs – he was unable to do much of anything.
She made it to the first floor of the basement eventually, injured more than she’d like to admit. Her hair was falling out of the high pony she had put it in, the ecto guns gave her burns, there were new cuts and what may be more accurately described as gashes, and a few new bruises as well. Danny unfortunately got hit once or twice in the crosshairs.
That led her now.
Athanasia al Ghul didn’t let herself be cornered often. But to keep her twin safe? She’d do it a thousand times more. Danny, on his feet, was slumped against the wall behind her. She stood directly in front him, guns with the knives drawn and aimed at the group of enemies. She was not letting them touch Danny again.
Before anyone had a chance to act, the elevator door dinged open. Everything paused. Tucker Foley stepped forward just enough to stop the doors from closing.
Everyone stared.
He waved. “Hi.”
Red Huntress and Sam Manson jumped from a lone vent grate from the ceiling, using the confusion Foley caused to their advantage. From there, it was back to fighting.
When she suggested someone to come help her, this was not what she had in mind, necessarily. She wasn’t complaining, though.
Red Huntress judo flipped an assassin into an operative. They went down like bricks into a third person.
“Go!” Manson shouted. “We’ve got this, A– Shrike! Get him out of here!”
Athanasia hesitated, but listened. As much as she was wary of them handling themselves against the League and wanted to help, she wanted to get Danny out of there more.
Lifting him up bridal style after putting her guns away, she muttered an apology when the movement tugged on his injuries, and then ran for the elevator Foley held open. As she got closer, he ducked in and spammed the close button. She slid in right as it began to close, kicking Foley to one side of the elevator as she pressed herself to another.
Three ninja stars struck the wall they were just in front of.
The doors shut.
They stared at them in silence as Foley pressed the ‘1’ button.
“How did you…?”
“They can be predictable sometimes,” she admitted.
Foley ‘huh’ed. “Well… Thanks.”
Once the elevator stopped and opened, they were back to running. Foley used his Fenton Works weapons he had to take out whoever tried to attack them.
“Main entrance, Wesley!” Athanasia shouted into the comms.
“But that’s the most obvious one?” he questioned, though she heard the vehicle start in the background.
“It’s the closest one– hey! Watch the face, man!” Foley shot at an assassin who tried to hit him with shurikens. They went down immediately with a pained groan.
Just then, a large green blast burst through the hallway’s floor. Athanasia stopped, boots squeaking against the floor, and Foley’s halt was more of a stumble than anything. Before they could question what was happening, Red Huntress flew up on her board with Manson balanced behind her, the girls back to back. Red Huntress shot her large ecto-gun back down the hole.
“How you like that, assholes?!”
Manson fiddled with what looked like tiny rockets on her wrist. “Let’s go, let’s go!” She shot one down the hall behind Athanasia and Foley, right at another group of operatives.
Foley backed up, then ran and leaped over the hole, bolting to the main doors of the headquarters. Athanasia did the same, stumbling a little on the landing, but she recovered quickly, and mumbled another apology when the jostling caused Danny more pain. Red Huntress and Manson followed on the former’s hover board.
As they got closer to the doors, a line of League members convened in front of them. None of them stopped running as Red Huntress shot at them, and then again at the door.
“Setting the timer on the bombs,” Manson told them just as they got outside. “Twenty seconds.”
“Wes, where–”
Tires skidding on pavement interrupted Foley. A black van came to an abrupt stop ten feet away, and the back door opened. “Right here!” he yelled from the driver’s seat.
Foley helped her get Danny in the van first, carefully placing him on the second row. They then piled in with the door shutting behind them, and Wesley peeled off, the other two girls zooming in the air to follow.
The bombs went off.
The previously hidden GIW headquarters went up in flames.
“Any followers?” asked Athanasia. She opened the sun roof, and moved to the front seat as Foley maneuvered the backs of the second row to fold backwards.
Manson dropped onto the roof of the van, and then into the vehicle itself. “Not that I saw,” she said.
“Hm.”
“I’m going to make the van invisible just in case, though.”
“For how long?” Wesley asked.
“As long as I can.”
Foley spoke up from where he now sat, with Danny’s head cushioned in his lap, “Don’t overdo it, Sam. You’re still new to magic.”
“No promises.” Manson got situated in the third row of seats. “I’m not letting those fruitloops find us, Tucker.”
Red Huntress then came into the van, board disappearing as she did so. “I think the explosion will be keeping them busy for a while.” She slipped off her helmet, eyes falling to Danny while she sat at his feet. “How is he?”
Foley shook his head. “In bad shape.”
Athanasia frowned, and from a pocket pulled out the vial of the stuff from the IV. “This was in an IV they were giving him. I have no clue what it is, but I believe it was harming him.”
He took the vial with a frown.
“We need to get him someplace safe,” Valerie Gray said. “Or… You guys do. That is, if the plan is still for Wes and I to go back to Amity Park and Ellie.”
Foley nodded. “Yeah, it is. Get to Amity Park, and tell Ellie to find Jazz – she’s been out of the loop for too long.”
Gray winced. “Oh, she’s gonna pissed.”
“I know where we can take him,” Athanasia told them. She reached to the built in GPS to start inputting the address. “He will be safe there, and they will help us keep him safe.”
“Are you sure?” Foley asked.
“Absolutely.”
If not, then Jason Todd lied about Bruce Wayne being a good man.
Once the address was put in, she pulled out her communicator – the one that was part of a matching set. She debated on whether a written message or a voice call would be better…
Gray leaned between the two front seats. “That address is in Gotham, New Jersey.” She looked at Athanasia incredulously. “How the hell is that safer?”
