BREAKING NEWS: Danny Phantom claims powers are 'just a side effect of Big Dick energy and unstoppable Bisexuality'. "Well if I knew it was THAT easy" says local crime lord Red Hood, spontainiously develops ghost powers.
In King Ludwig II’s defense, if I had basically infinite discretionary funds, was accountable to absolutely no one, and was king of a country full of picturesque landscapes, you couldn’t stop me from building myself a big gay fairytale castle on a mountaintop either.
This post is spreading and I feel bad about it because it contains misinformation, so for the record: Ludwig II did not in fact have infinite discretionary funds. He only acted as if he did. He never dipped into the public coffers for his building projects, but he spent his own fortune extravagantly and borrowed heavily from everyone he could think of. By 1885, the year before his death, he was 14 million marks in debt.
I always find this inspiring because try to name another prince of a German state. What did the rulers of Hamberg do? The Grand Duchy of Hesse? Gone with the wind, no one knows them anymore. But Mad Lad Ludwig built a top 5 most famous castle in the entire world. Money is fake, castles are real. Go broke and die like a winner.
We’ve heard about the seeming contrast of creators that make these super happy saccharine pieces of art being bitter people whose lives seem to be filled with agony whereas horror creators that thrive in the grotesque all seem to be super happy and positive people, the usual “Miyazaki Hayao vs Itou Junji” kinda beat.
There’s a similar, slightly overlapping dynamic between cuisine and blacksmithing. Chefs are the single angriest existences in the world and would piss on your grave seconds after stuffing your freshly gutted corpse in it. Blacksmiths are jovial, usually quiet dudes that work machinery and think your dagger is still very cool even if it’s got some balance issues.
Now, of course this is making reference to the Ramsay style of food shows, which is not the universal experience when it comes to the genre – I’m more of a Cutthroat Kitchen kind of guy, because I like Mario Party – but it’s always fun to me to go through an episode of Hell’s Kitchen where Ramsay annihilates his own vocal chords screaming “FUCKING DONKEY” and “IT’S RAW”, then right after, watch some old Forged In Fire and see the Filipino weapon master, Marcaida, test a short sword one of the contestants made and it fucking explodes into shards without nary a scratch on the pig’s carcass, obviously the shittiest weapon you could possibly make, damascus steel shards flying embedded in his arm, and he’ll calmly, with his signature friendly smile, lovable demeanor, and charismatic gait, face the contestant and be like
“Well, you see, Bob, your blade unfortunately suffered a catastrophic malfunction, and it can’t be tested any further. However, the handle on your weapon allowed for some very good balance and ease of swing, it fits my palm perfectly and it swings very easy. Despite the blade fracturing in 7 uneven fragments, we can see that the blade didn’t chip or roll at all. Good work, Bob” then they’ll shake on it and Bob is eliminated, and all he’ll say is “I’m sorry to have punctured 4 blood vessels on Marcaida, but end of the day, the other smiths were simply better, and I’m proud of them. I just gotta go and work on my fundamentals back at home now :)” meanwhile Hell’s Kitchen’s contestants are having a shootout with Glocks in their dorm because someone made fun of someone else’s raw scallops.
Okay so… today is a little bit of a long one, so we’ll see if we’re back at Tumblr breaking length or juuuust on the right side
But! Finally, much anticipated, we have the man himself: John Constantine! Here to share secrets and save the day! (Not)
And! This chapter got us right up to the edge, next chapter is gonna push me over to one MILLION words on AO3 y’all!! I’ve been flirting with it the past couple years but finally we’re here!
So. Might push the next one out faster. Might slow the next one down, since we’re in heavy waters again. And, since we are in the heavy waters, Imma tag on some warnings:
1) we gonna be speculating a little more on Jason’s death in this one, from a couple of viewpoints. We’re also discussing Cass’s in particular, and its repercussions.
No gore or details, just some death themes, mostly from Jason’s perspective after he and Danny leave the manor (Jason’s second POV segment)
2) Bruce is gonna make some very bad decisions about stimulants and concussions, mostly off screen but it is mentioned at the end of our first Bruce POV segment
And now the links!
First and link to AO3:
Alright, I guess we doing this… and now it’s a novella… because I have Chronic Overexplaining Syndrome
This is why I put these up for adopt
Previous:
I am back! And with the beginnings of some answers to the mysteries, though sadly not the full John Constantine lowdown! But I will make it
———————
Never Make A Promise You Can’t Keep
Constantine hadn’t been looking forward to discussing Amity Park with the Justice League. Not the first time he’d been sent, and not for a single second after.
But hours turned into days, days to weeks, weeks to years. He’d almost thought he’d gotten away with it and that they wouldn’t ask.
Which was probably what had gotten the big Bat’s fuckin’ attention, wasn’t it. Couldn’t possibly let the universe have something nice for Johnny Constantine.
Luckily it was damn hard to lose something in the House of Mystery unless the House wanted it lost. Today she was feeling merciful and gave him the book on the second try.
It’d have been nice if he needed to refresh his memory of the case. If the knowledge of Amity Park hadn’t been sitting like a weight on his awareness since before he’d been.
Honestly he could probably point to it from anywhere on Earth. Most magic users could, if they had the faintest alignment with death.
Amity Park was goddamn wrong, even if it looked like things had turned out alright for now. Still, there were types of wrong you didn’t poke at.
Going prodding around would only make things worse.
And now he had to go explain that to Captain Prod himself, and try and persuade the fuckin’ Batman that no news was good news.
At least the Superboys had listened when he told them to clear off until he could visit in person. They’d pinky sworn they were back in Metropolis, and he’d heard enough traffic to believe them.
They could just as easily fly straight back to Alaska, but they weren’t stupid. They knew how to listen.
(Possibly from trauma related to the times Young Justice hadn’t listened to him, but he’d take what he could get.)
Now he just had to persuade the Bat that he knew what he was talking about.
Constantine hated debriefings with Batman. The guy had no grasp of magic, which was perfectly fair for most folks.
He preferred that. It kept them out of his kind of trouble, meant he didn’t have to worry about them until it got bad enough they’d accept whatever snapped sentence he managed.
Batman though. Batman treated magicians like it was their fault that the world didn’t work the way he personally preferred. Like they had any say in the how and why of magic.
Asshole.
And now he wanted to scold John like a naughty child about something he had no way to understand. Well, fuck that.
For better or worse, the Justice League made Amity Park his problem. Years late or not, this was his show, and he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.
Thumbing quickly through the book, he kinda hated how easily it fell open to the relevant page. Like he’d already spent way too long looking.
Even he didn’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Not if he could help it.
Stuffing in his notes from the city itself he closed the book, left the House, and hurried to one of the closer zeta tubes. Didn’t matter which city he was spat out in, he could find one.
His number didn’t coax even a flicker of the usual dry amusement as he stepped out into the bat cave, scowling up at the massive screen.
League records. Great. He strode across the floor, hoping they could sort this crap out fast.
“What the fuck’s got you lookin’ into Amity Park?” He asked as the Bat turned to face him, book tucked under his arm.
None of his usual prevaricating or fucking around. No chance for the fucker to try his usual “control the conversation” shit.
If it had any effect whatsoever, it didn’t show. Damn white outs. Batman just stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the computer, pulling up another page.
Constantine didn’t look. He didn’t want to know.
“Why did you mark Amity Park as a prank?” The big Bat asked in his stupid, gravelly tones.
Constantine rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t mark it as a fuckin’ prank, I marked it as a no fly zone for your little lot, so again: what the fuck came out of Amity Park?”
Batman stilled for a moment, doing that annoying “human computer” bit again. John preferred each and every one of the actual cyborgs, even the ones that tried to kill him.
Then he turned back, swivelling the chair around to fully face John like a movie super villain. Asshole.
“Over two thousand legitimate cries for help came out of Amity Park, and were ignored. If they were marked for the Justice League Dark, you should have responded, not deleted them.”
And that sounded way too much like an accusation. And completely fuckin’ irrelevant.
Something deeply unpleasant was tugging at the edge of Constantine’s awareness, just below the irritation he scraped over the sense of impending doom he’d been ignoring for the last hour.
He pushed it down, scowling at Bruce as he crossed the last of the distance and slammed the book down on the table next to the keyboard, gesturing up at the screens.
Still not bothering to look. He didn’t want to fuckin’ know.
“Years ago, Batty. This could be time fuckin’ sensitive, so quit pissing me about an’ tell me what. Exactly. Got you looking into Amity Park.”
There was a moment of hesitance, and he just fucking hated that. Nothing that made Batman hesitate could possibly be… good.
The feeling at the back of his mind suddenly clicked. His eyes widened and he groaned, wishing he had something stronger than a cigarette. Maybe a bullet.
“Great. Just fuckin’ great. They’re here.”
Groping around behind him, he grabbed another swivel chair and folded down into it, elbows bracing on the desk and burying his face in his hands.
Well, this was the nightmare situation.
From the fucking death taint seeping into his fuckin’ skin, something extremely fuckin’ big had oozed its way out of the Realms, and settled itself in Gotham.
Batman’s attention had snapped to, the man suddenly alert and watchful as Constantine slumped.
One hand dove into a pocket for the carton of cigarettes, Bat Cave rules be damned. Not much fuckin’ point, but he wasn’t doing this sober, and his flask was too small.
For once the Bat didn’t comment as he flicked the lighter open, lit up, and took a long drag. Just focused that laser stare on Constantine’s face.
At least he’d grasped the gravity of the matter.
“What is here?” The Bat finally asked when it became clear Constantine wasn’t elaborating, sounding annoyed.
Constantine took another drag of his smoke. Some days nicotine just wasn’t enough.
“Start from the beginning, Bats. Tell me everything that led up to you lookin’ into Amity Park, and everything you found since,” he demanded, hoping there was still a point to asking.
“If this is time sensitive, Constantine, you need to tell me what is happening,” Batman growled, tensed like he wanted to leap out of his chair and loom like one of his fuckin’ gargoyles.
The bat sounded cranky. Fuck him.
Constantine fixed him with a level stare.
“Then you’d better get fuckin’ talking, hadn’t you? I need to know how fuckin’ bad it is before I know first steps.”
Batman hesitated a moment longer, then turned back to his computer.
“I can summon the League-”
“No time,” Constantine cut him off acerbically, shaking his head, “and might make shit worse. Just fuckin’… report. Gimme yer damn report.”
For all that the Bat loved paperwork, loved to bury them all in bureaucracy, he dithered another moment before nodding, pulling up…
Well lookie there, he already had a literal report typed up. Great.
Taking another long drag of his cigarette Constantine leaned back in the chair and scanned the document.
Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Or the extra details he could already tell he’d need, that had prompted the dull and clinical report.
**
Jason had tensed as Danny did. First because of the sudden alertness he could feel in Danny’s aura, even reduced back down to conversational levels.
(And that had been fun. The more times he felt Danny’s aura wrapped around him, the longer he spent with his chest tight and Danny’s presence right down to his lungs…
He felt cold when it went away. Almost lonely, surrounded by people. Fucking ancients help him, he was getting used to it.)
Was that what it’d feel like if he felt that Danny was in danger? A rush of adrenaline?
It was a little weird being so in tune with someone, but not in a bad way. Danny didn’t seem upset, just suddenly on guard in a way that the whole table noticed.
On guard, and… amused. And then he spoke and Jason tensed again.
“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”
Danny could sense John Constantine. That was… Really not the strangest thing, but it didn’t mean Jason had to like it.
If Danny could sense Constantine, could Constantine sense Danny? Jason wasn’t sure if he should ask in public.
Tim had way less reservations.
“Wait, what do you mean? What just happened?” He asked, breaking away from Tucker for a moment. But at least Tucker also looked confused.
Danny shook his head, chuckling softly and finishing up his food.
“Oh, sorry. It’s Sad Trenchcoat Guy,” he added for Sam and Tucker’s benefit, both of whom relaxed like that actually meant something.
Sam was back in her original clothes now, although Jason hadn’t given her the thermos back yet. Once her parents arrived, maybe.
Jason stifled a snicker, along with most of the Gothamites. It was a pretty accurate description of Constantine.
“Still in the dark over here,” Duke put in, a slight frown on his face.
Danny shrugged again and grinned at him.
“It’s kinda a ghost thing. I can sense other ghosts, or certain kinds of magic users. Constantine came to Amity Park not that long after I died,” he explained casually.
Tim and Dick shared meaningful looks behind Tucker’s head, and Jason stifled another chuckle. They thought they were so discrete.
Dick leaned in again, arms folded on the table as he gave Danny his best innocent interest.
“Oh? That’s kinda weird, do you know why?” He asked casually. Not questioning where Danny thought John was now.
He wanted to try and lead them away from the topic, probably. Too bad for him, if he’d asked he might have gotten some idea of how far Danny’s power stretched.
He’d explained to Jason about his aura covering most of the city, although he hadn’t claimed it as his haunt. But if Dickie didn’t want to know, Jason wouldn’t tell.
Sam fielded the question, rolling her eyes and folding her arms.
“We thought he might have come to help, since that was around when the ghost attacks started. He didn’t though,” she added bitterly, and Danny kicked her under the table.
“We don’t actually know why he came,” he explained, giving Dick a half smile, “he never talked to us. He did talk to some of the other ghosts though.”
“Wait, you can just do that?” Steph asked, her brows furrowed. Whether she was playing civilian or actually wasn’t sure, Jason wouldn’t put a bet on.
The amount most of the bat clan knew about magic and ghosts used to be that Jason was a zombie.
Which, as it turned out, was wrong.
Danny gave her a blank look, then shrugged again.
“I mean, yeah? You literally can just go ask half the time, but he was doing some fancy stuff. Binding circles and demanding truth, that kinda shit,” he added, making a face.
“He wasn’t popular among the living either,” Tucker agreed with a snicker. “Lotta weird questions for people, and no answers. We figured he was one of those occult nuts.”
“That’d explain the binding circles and truth thing,” Duke agreed with a solemn nod, folding his own arms. Honestly, watching them all play civilian was kinda adorable.
Tucker hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.
“I mean, you’ve got me there. But he never tried to get anywhere near the fights, and then one day he just vanished. We got a ton more weird tourists for a while, but he was the weirdest,” he finished with relish.
Sam snorted again, clearly still annoyed about the whole mess. Maybe she’d been the one who actually wanted help.
Danny hadn’t mentioned how he felt about it yet, and Jason hadn’t asked, but they’d all been abandoned. Fucking Jason wasn’t happy about it.
“He was the only one who actually knew what he was doing,” she huffed, scowling at the table. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “So if he’s in Gotham, I’m gonna call it a bad sign.”
Privately, Jason was tempted to agree with her. John Constantine was a danger magnet, and Jason was half tempted to go and have a word himself.
Word in the Bat Chat was that Constantine was why Danny had never gotten any backup before. Danny himself might not be looking to start a fight over it, but Jason had Opinions on teen heroes.
And the adults who should have been protecting them.
Not with Bruce around though. He’d have to wait and see if Constantine stayed in town.
It’d give him time to ask Danny about the suddenly constant undercurrent of suppressed laughter he could feel.
**
In the bat cave, Constantine squinted at the picture Batman had pulled up from the gala. Not exactly the best picture on earth, but it was clear enough to tell. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh of relief.
“Alright, could be worse,” he decided, tossing aside his second cigarette butt. The report had been complete, he’d give old Bats that, and he’d even been allowed to smoke through it.
But a black gloved hand covered his when he reached for the pack again.
Fucker.
Constantine let it slide for now, raising both hands in surrender and then pointing at the screen.
“Looks like you’ve got the halfa. Not bad news, as it goes. He’s at least still half human, which is probably why your precious city’s still intact.”
He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if another ghost tried to set up a haunt in Gotham. The old girl’s Curse would have something to say about it.
Batman didn’t look noticeably reassured though.
“Enough stalling, Constantine. What is this all about? What happened in Amity Park?” He demanded roughly, and Constantine was grudgingly impressed.
Seemed like that ol’ bat hyper focus was going to win out over even a threat to his own city. Or he hadn’t been fully listening.
No bet.
Constantine sighed again, gesturing to the screen.
“You got a ley line map somewhere on this thing?” He asked, mostly just to annoy the bat a little further. Not like he wasn’t gonna give him the answers.
Batman hesitated for a moment, then set to typing. Probably… yup, going into the JL Dark files. Zatanna kept a helpful reference folder for the mundanes.
Constantine didn’t think they needed any more help than they asked for, but she’d been right this time and he owed her a beer for it. A second later the map was on screen.
Constantine nodded again, pointing to the general area of Illinois.
“Pull up Amity Park on that map,” he instructed, wheeling his chair back out of reach to pull out a third cigarette.
Both got him an annoyed frown from old Batsy.
“What is this supposed to mean?” He asked in the old gravelly growl, the map already obediently zooming in.
Constantine lit his smoke and waved at the screen again.
“Y’know what ley lines are?” He asked back, watching the map scroll around.
Not one with a search function then. Batsy’d have to find it by hand. Sucks to be him.
It kept him from focusing much attention on John anyway, so that was a win.
“I know the places they meet are magical nexus points,” Batman admitted reluctantly, like he didn’t hoard information about everything on earth.
Constantine nodded, not willing to entertain his issues.
“Amity Park’s on a dozen of them,” he said bluntly, and watched the guy stiffen.
Zoom out a bit, find the flowering spot where damn near every ley line through that part of the world crossed. Zoomed back in to find Amity Park.
The bat scowled at the screen for a while, then at John, who’d put his feet up on the desk. Tough titties, they weren’t coming down.
“But what does that mean, Constantine,” he growled, and John sighed.
Cupped his hands in front of him, paused, and shook his head.
“Alright, I’m crap at metaphors so bear with me. You know about multiple dimensions?” He asked and the bat nodded impatiently.
Like he shouldn’t have asked. Like this fucker hadn’t just asked for the fuckin’ kindergartener explanation.
Whatever.
“Yes. There’s a different dimension on the other side of the ley lines?” He asked, and Constantine did his very best not to roll his eyes.
Well. Maybe not his very best.
But he didn’t do it as hard as he could have.
“No. There’s way too many other dimensions. But what the ley lines do is weaken a place in this dimension, especially where they cross. Amity Park is a fuckin’ sieve,” he said with finality, waiting for the Bat to catch up.
And sure enough, those frown lines etched themselves deep again. This guy was gonna make John Fuckin’ Constantine look like a fresh faced baby.
“So other dimensions can cross through?” He asked again, and John sighed.
Reductive fucker.
“No. Yes. Sort of. Because some stupid motherfucker in Amity Park didn’t just use the natural portals or holes; they punched a fuckin’ permanent portal to the Infinite Realms.”
Honestly using the natural portals would have been bad enough in his opinion. Reality was basically swiss cheese in Amity, and getting anything’s attention would be beyond dangerous.
He hadn’t even liked visiting.
Batman looked more stoic, which John assumed meant he wasn’t keeping up. Scrubbing his free hand through his hair, he blew out a stream of smoke and frowned.
“So you get natural portals between our dimension other dimensions. It’s how all that “evil other self” crap keeps happening. With me?” He asked dryly.
The bat nodded without speaking, which was as close to an admission of confusion as Constantine figured he’d get.
Whatever.
“You get more portals on ley lines, and more again where two cross. About a dozen cross in Amity Park, so they get lots of natural portals. Yes?”
The bat nodded again, face pinching up like he resented John’s tone. Double tough, he’d had every chance to read Zatanna’s primers.
If John was doing Ley Lines For Dummies the dummies could keep their attitudes to themselves.
“Natural portals, they open and close on their own. Rest of the world, they don’t usually stay open for long. They need power to stop the world from… mending the hole.”
Which was the worst fucking explanation of all time and not remotely what happened, but who fucking cared. Batty wanted to weigh in again.
“So natural portals also stay open longer around Amity Park,” he growled, trying to get to the next step of the explanation.
Which, actually, John hadn’t really thought about. Pursing his lips, he let his gaze drift to the smoke swirling around the ceiling.
There were actual fucking bats up there.
Of course there were.
Dramatic bastard.
Forcing his attention back to the bastard in question, he waved a hand to dispel the last stream of smoke.
“Doesn’t matter what natural portals do. Some asshole went to the spot in reality most likely to break on its own, and decided to punch a hole. A permanent hole, into the Infinite Realms.”
Batman took a deep, even breath in, like he was trying to hold onto his temper. Yeah, well, he’d walked face first into Amity Fuckin’ Park, now he had to join John in Hell.
“What are the Infinite Realms?” He asked, sounding as patient as ever. Brownie points for trying, John wasn’t going to.
“It’s where the unclaimed dead go. Souls not ready to move on, souls that were never born, and, much worse, it occasionally pops out personifications of forces or belief,” he ground out the last words, teeth gritting in spite of himself.
The bat stilled for a long moment, drawing in another slow, steady breath. Probably counting to ten.
“What.” It wasn’t even a question really, a flat statement of dissatisfaction.
It meant not talking about Amity Park for a bit longer though, so Constantine leaned in.
“God shit. Concepts like Time, Hope, Growth. Anything that someone, somewhere, truly believes in. Well, not just anyone,” he corrected, and Did Not enjoy the way Batman’s jaw clenched.
Not even a bit.
“It takes a lot of juice, makin’ a whole entity. But the Infinite Realms are the core of all the dimensions, the intersection they all go through, and that’s where the belief settles. The more people who believe, the more clearly they believe it, and eventually you get enough to form a personality.”
He gave the bat a little time to digest that one. To really let it sink in what a fuckin’ problem the Infinite Realms could be.
And then a thought occurred to him.
“Your city’s got one, y’know?” He mentioned almost as an afterthought, and Batty Did Not like that.
His head snapped up, white outs narrowing to slits as he glared.
“What?!” He demanded sharply and Constantine waved a hand.
“Gotham. Dunno if it’s all the shit you lot go through, or the stubborn arseholes that live ‘ere, but Gotham has a city spirit.”
No need to mention the curse yet. Batsy was already having a day.
That’d be for the next time he ticked Constantine off.
This time, just that revelation seemed to have been enough to stun the bat. Constantine left him to sit in this one until he was ready though.
Processing.
He wasn’t completely heartless.
He was a little grudgingly impressed by how quickly Batman put it aside and refocused on the matter in hand.
“And that’s why the Infinite Realms are dangerous? These powerful personifications?” He asked cautiously, like he expected John to say no again.
Smart man.
Constantine gave him a dry smile.
“If fuckin’ only. There’s spirits in there, Ancients, and every one of ‘em could give Darkseid a run for his money. But even the ghosts of the Realms are a fuckin’ dangerous lot. You know Deadman?”
The bat nodded to indicate that he did, brows furrowing.
“He can’t be seen or heard without magical assistance,” he agreed, that same caution present.
At least he was a quick learner. Constantine nodded in satisfaction.
“He’s a ghost made by magic. Ghosts from the Realms don’t have anything like the same limitations. They can’t be seen or touched unless they want to, and they can damn well affect the world around ‘em.”
John shuddered, remembering some of the attacks he’d seen. Nothing stronger than a baseline demon, but the damage you could do when no one else could touch you, or stop you…
And he shook his head, locking the damage back down.
“And worse, they’re fuckin’ unpredictable. Demons, they’re easy. They all want the same shit. Realms ghosts? If one of ‘em decides fuckin’ cheese is their obsession, that’s it. They’ll drown a city in cheddar.”
The bat was staring at him again, back on that stoic “I have no idea what’s happening so I’ll look big and scary til it all makes sense again” bullshit.
Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look. I ain’t even told ya the worst of it yet. How about we jus’ take it as read that the Infinite Realms are bad fuckin’ news, okay?” He asked as patiently as he could.
There was that little twitch, that little scrunch again. Not a happy Batty.
And he wasn’t gonna get happier while he made John teach him Magic For Dummies either.
But he nodded, folding his arms reluctantly.
“Then why did you leave the people of Amity Park to face them alone?” He asked bluntly, and… well, that was the question, wasn’t it?
Constantine stared blankly at him.
“You want Superman gettin’ body hopped by a ghostie craving all the cheddar in the mid west?” He asked in turn, and there it was.
The little indrawn breath. The fuckin’ scale of the problem.
Fuckin’ FINALLY.
“Look, Amity Park has a hero. Had. The halfa.” He waved vaguely at the screen again, the picture of Bruce’s mystery kid now buried several windows deep.
Didn’t matter.
“He’s got all the powers the ghosts do, an’ can’t be possessed. Last thing the poor little fuck needed was to face an overshadowed super.”
And yeah, the Bat still didn’t look happy (more to the better, that’d be a terrifying sight all on its own), but at least he had a reason for resting bitch face now.
Constantine sighed, waving a hand vaguely and tossing the latest butt down.
“Look, I can’t stop ya from pokin’ around. Not for lack of trying, mind. The Realms are a dangerous place, an’ Amity Park’s practically on the other side already. I dunno why the kid left, I don’t care. You though, Bats? You’re gonna do me a proper fuckin’ oath.”
He levelled his best serious stare, useless as usual against the damn white outs. It’d kill the asswipe to look human.
Batman shifted again, clearly feeling the weight of the last word.
Good.
“An oath?” He asked warily, and Constantine nodded, holding out his hand.
“On yer name, on yer blood, on yer tie to this fuckin’ city. No matter what you do lookin’ at the Infinite fuckin’ Realms. You do not. Fuck. With the Ghost King.”
The bat stared down at his hand like there was something wrong with it. John assumed anyway. The pissy face could be for anything.
And then he asked the question, because of fuckin’ course he did.
“What is the Ghost King?”
John sighed heavily, leaving his hand where it was, waiting for the oath.
“The prettiest fuckin’ princess of them all, what d’you fuckin’ think. The Ghost King rules the Infinite Realms, and by all accounts the last one was a bloody tyrant. Good news is he probably never noticed Amity Park yet, cuz America isn’t a smoking crater.”
Honestly, maybe he’d add a chapter to Zatanna’s document. Stamp it all across any reference anyone tried to make to Amity Fuckin’ Park so he never had to do this again.
He caught the Bat’s gaze again, weighting his words with enough power that every sound in the cave died around them.
“It took all the damn Ancients to seal Pariah Dark once. And someone’s beaten him, and taken his throne. I don’t fuckin’ know who, I don’t ask, but if they’re tough enough to beat Pariah, they are beyond what the League can do. Your only chance is to stay the fuck outta their way. Swear it.”
Batman stared at him for a long moment, and then down at the outstretched hand. Reached out and clasped it in his own.
“I swear. I will not knowingly upset the Ghost King.”
John gripped tighter, realized almost immediately that it was pointless against the reinforced gloves, and did it anyway.
“None of that, Batty. No bullshit. You do not fuck with the Ghost King. You hear the faintest goddamn whisper of their name, you turn tail and fuckin’ run. We will not survive their attention.”
He stared the stupid white outs down, as long as it took, and didn’t let go. Batman stared at him for a while, clearly absorbing the gravity of his words.
Constantine couldn’t remember asking a member of the League to swear to anything before. Usually he was the buyer in deals, not the keeper.
Woulda been nice to remain so, but nothing stopped the fuckin’ bat from sticking his nose in, so here was John Constantine, last condom of the universe.
Last desperate scrap of protection against a fuckin’ dick.
Finally the bat nodded, grip tightening in return.
“I swear. I will not engage with the Ghost King.”
**
Harley had gotten back just before Sam had to leave, with perfect timing to see her to the door actually.
The look on Pamela Manson’s face when Harley kissed Sam on each cheek and waved her off would keep Danny warm on cold nights.
A quick check of flight times back to Massachusetts (like Danny wasn’t going to take shortcuts) confirmed that Tucker could have one more night in Gotham.
Tim immediately offered to put him up in Wayne Manor again, clearly not allowing the chance to slip by him two nights in a row. Tucker was only too happy to accept, although Steph and Cass begged off.
Probably for their hero patrols. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how many vigilantes Gotham had, there seemed to be a new one every few months, but having eight of them at the gala last night probably meant all the rest had been out.
Obviously Red Robin wouldn’t be out tonight either, but there were enough of them to cover for each other.
Danny was kinda jealous of that. It had been just him for so long, and then him and Valerie, which hadn’t been better until she stopped hunting him too. He’d have loved a night off.
Still, their numbers meant that Jason probably wouldn’t need to go back to the night life unless he actually wanted to. He was definitely still built for it, but Danny couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to ask him to.
Most of the bats had clearly had their own run ins with death, but Jason’s had stuck in ways even Danny knew he didn’t quite get.
Jason had been so tense at just the thought of Danny being a teen hero. It wasn’t like that’d get easier when it was his little siblings swinging from rooftops.
Danny’s hero career might have started with his own death, but he personally was of the opinion that that’d be a perfectly fine reason to end one too.
So Dick, Steph, and Cass headed out not too long after Sam, and Danny wasn’t exactly surprised when Jason’s background angst jumped.
He’d stayed on edge since Danny and Bruce got back, even when Harley told them Bruce was off dealing with his own shit and probably wouldn’t be out of his room all night.
Danny’d bet fifty bucks that the arrival of Constantine actually meant Bruce was in the bat cave being suspicious, but he wasn’t gonna say it.
Tim had shown them to a games room, for all that he’d apparently also moved out. He still knew where everything was, and soon had them hooked up for Mariokart on the biggest TV Danny ever saw.
They’d played a couple rounds (Harley was expectedly devastating with red shells) and while Danny and Tucker were having fun, he could feel Jason stressing.
Like, even if he stuck his fingers in his ears and ignored the aura. The guy was tensed so tight his shoulders strained at his shirt, which woulda been visually interesting if Danny didn’t know why.
Cass was one near death experience from slipping back across the boundary for good.
Cass was off punching criminals with rocket launchers in body armour and spandex.
Duke was probably actually in bed, Signal did morning patrols, and Damian was obstinately refusing to play video games with them perched on the back of the couch, but still.
Dick and Steph had both given one life to the cause too, and for all Dick was a cop and in danger on his day job too, cops pretty famously showed up after the vigilantes ended the party.
More than half Jason’s immediate family were back in the line of fire and Danny could practically taste Jason’s Obsession eating away at him.
As much as he tried to pretend he was playing along and gave a shit about winning, the controller creaked in his hands more than a couple casual races should allow.
So, yeah, if he couldn’t get Jason to crack a smile with this one, he was gonna gently bow them both the fuck outta the manor.
He kept half an eye on Tim, who had a glass of water.
“Hey, you guys heard the theory about Batman?” He asked casually, just as another round of Mariokart started.
Jason kicked him in the ankle but otherwise ignored him, which was fair. He’d been exposed to Danny’s bullshit.
Tim stiffened and then forced himself to relax, Tucker rolled his eyes and jostled Danny from his other side, but it was Harley who answered.
Innocent as the day she was born.
“Oh? What? Is it that he’s a lizardman? Cuz I got right up on that cowl and he’s definitely a mammal,” she said casually, not even looking away from the screen.
Danny was pretty sure he heard Damian almost slip off his perch.
He was a little bit in love with Harley Quinn. He should get her number for Jazz, maybe his big sister would learn to have a little fun.
Grinning broad and only half fake, he drifted a turn to pick up a double item from under Tucker’s nose.
“Shit, yeah, you might actually know! It’s his secret identity!” He exclaimed cheerfully, and felt the tension in the room ratchet up.
From Tim and Damian. Jason… still wasn’t paying attention.
Not like he was deeply immersed in the game, for all he kept up he was nowhere near the speed demon that handed Danny his ass the night before.
Hmm. Better get his attention.
Tim and Damian had already settled again, probably remembering he was already In The Know even if Tucker wasn’t, and Harley had given him a very knowing look right before she fire flowered him.
Almost ready.
He waited until Tim had taken a hasty sip of water on a calm stretch, nudged Jason in the shins, and made sure he was louder than the music.
“So d’you think it’s possible that Markiplier’s Batman?”
Tim sprayed water across the couch, Harley fucking cackled, and Jason snapped his head around to stare at Danny so hard he cricked his neck.
Danny red shelled him for good measure, just so he wasn’t missing anything on screen.
Tucker rolled his eyes, also deeply used to Danny’s bullshit and much more interested in gaming revenge.
“Fuck off Danny, Markiplier isn’t even a Gothamite,” he said disdainfully and Danny shook his head, grinning.
“That’s why it’s the perfect cover. I mean, Batman wants to keep his secret identity a secret, right? So having an identity that very publicly “isn’t in Gotham” makes perfect sense!” He argued cheerfully.
Jason half snorted a laugh beside him, picking back up and speeding his way back into the race. Across the couch Tim wiped his face, still catching his breath.
“I fucking hate that that made sense,” he moaned, and Harley cackled again.
“Nah, he’s got a point! How does anyone know where a youtuber lives? We only see one room!” She agreed cheerfully, clearly leaning in.
It was so nice to have a true showwoman in the crowd.
Damian looked angry in the confused way now, and Danny would hazard a guess he didn’t watch youtube at all, let alone a lets player. That might have made it funnier, had there been no other concerns.
Beside him Jason huffed out another dry chuckle, shaking his head with the barest hint of a smile.
“I can’t believe Batman has an OnlyFans,” he said in a solemn, almost sorrowful voice… and dropped a blue shell.
Tim groaned like his soul had gone with it, clinging desperately to his first place lead. Harley cackled and added her own green shells to the mix, dropping all three as they came to the home stretch.
“Don’t forget the calendar of tasteful nudes! All for charity, just what Batsy would like,” she crowed with evident glee, and Tucker snorted a laugh.
“It’d explain all the surgeries,” he agreed reluctantly, and Danny had a sudden, utterly wicked idea.
“Hey… now that Batman’s on OnlyFans, d’you think he’ll convince the whole Justice League to do a pinup calendar, or just the other bats?” He asked innocently, watching said bats from the corner of his eye.
Well, Robins technically, but since only Tim was of age birds didn’t seem appropriate.
Tim himself threw his controller to the ground, abandoning the game and throwing himself over the back of the couch and almost hitting Damian on the way.
Damian definitely hissed at him like a startled cat.
No way Danny imagined that this close to the finish.
Tucker hesitated for a long moment, clearly considering his odds of winning, but when Harley blasted past Tim’s spun out corpse and across the finish line he abandoned his controller too to check on Tim.
Harley was surprisingly good at the game when flopped sideways on her chosen couch, laughing too hard to breathe. Danny breezed into an easy third behind her and Jason, giving the other man an assessing look.
A little wary of reaching out with his aura, especially when Jason was on edge. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
Didn’t want to be too invasive, if he was honest. Danny had… kinda always been the one who was new to aura stuff before. And he’d gotten used to it, in the Ghost Zone.
He’d never spent this much time with another halfa before. Especially not without a single trace of punching or stabbing.
Except in Mariokart, where the Geneva Convention held no sway.
Jason had clearly noticed him looking though, and read the concern even without Danny pushing. He gave Danny’s shoulder a gentle bump, a nudge of fine-stop worrying alongside.
Danny nudged back, his own disbelief tinged with understanding-empathy-worried too.
But, that was kinda the other thing… the thing he didn’t really want to bring up around the other bats just yet.
And while Jason had smiled, Danny didn’t think he’d mind them dipping out.
Faking a yawn, he stretched, cracked his back, and looked over to where Tim had rejoined the couch.
“Honestly, I’m beat. I gotta try and get back into a better sleep schedule before classes start,” he said, pulling a face at the self-reminder.
Their break was coming to its end, and then he’d be back into university. His class schedule was flexible, more afternoons than early mornings, but he’d… miss this.
Free time to just spend the whole day hanging out with friends and catching up. Meeting Jason’s family, Jason meeting his.
Danny didn’t actually know what Jason did, whether he was working or going back to school, but it was gonna come up soon.
They had a trip to Frostbite to plan, some ecto shots from Danny’s fridge, and at some point he still had to introduce Jason to Frighty… and probably ask the guy if he wanted to be called that still.
It’d be a little weird to start calling him Halloween or whatever, but frankly him obeying Danny’s orders and calling him “my liege” was way fucking weirder so it’d be fine.
And about four more days before half of Danny’s time would be eaten by lectures, study halls, and projects. Fuck, maybe Jason would give him a hand with those too.
So long as he wasn’t sick of Danny by then.
Another quick glance showed that Jason’s face had reset into that tense almost-scowl again, staring past the TV.
At the other end of the couch, Tim gave a disgruntled huff.
“I’m gonna make you pay for that next time,” he grumbled, shifting to Tucker with an adorable moment of sudden concern. “Do you need me to show you to a room too, or…”
Tucker shook his head with a snicker, giving Danny a side eye.
“Nah, unlike that weakling I got used to the vigilante sleep schedule back in high school. I’m good for a couple more hours at least,” he bragged.
Danny flipped him off, hauling himself to his feet and giving Jason a nudge.
“Yeah, well, this weakling fought a croc last night and needs his sleep. Mind giving me a ride back?” He asked when Jason looked up at him.
Gently offered a touch of easy out-reassurance-trust me.
The deep furrows in Jason’s brows twitched until he caught on and his expression cleared. He nodded quickly and pulled himself to his feet.
“Yeah, we can take my bike.” Then he hesitated and looked a little uncertain. “You never told me where you live.”
It took Danny a moment to realise that… no, he really hadn’t, because that just plain didn’t feel right. But no, he’d met Jason again in that coffee shop, then come to the gala with Sam.
Hadn’t gone home last night, just stopped at one of Jason’s apparently multiple places; at least he was doing better than Danny had thought from the first apartment.
He found himself chuckling at the thought, shaking his head.
“Oh yeah, we’ve only been to your place… I’m at the south dorm at Gotham U, I can give you directions as we get closer,” he offered and Jason nodded.
He felt… weird? Like he was surprised Danny had told him where he lived, and ashamed of being surprised.
Danny decided not to dig into it, offering Jason his arm and bowing like all those Shakespeare plays he knew Jason loved.
“Shall we?”
Jason’s moment of surprise was quickly swallowed by delight and he bowed back, then tucked his hand into Danny’s elbow. Almost definitely knew etiquette better than Danny did, so Danny wasn’t gonna doubt him.
“We shall. I’ll drop you off and head home,” he agreed, then paused and glanced back at Harley.
Whose giggling had completely ended and was now watching them like her favourite sitcom. Chin in hands and all.
“Did you wanna meet up here tomorrow, or…” Jason trailed off, obviously also a little put off by her intensity.
She perked up when addressed, giving him a cheery grin and a double thumbs up.
“Here or th’ station, I don’t mind! Hey, did ya wanna come too, Danny boy?” She asked sweetly, head cocked to the side and just waaaay too innocent.
Not that Danny could work out what she was up to.
“Uh… to do what?” He asked carefully, head cocking to match hers before he noticed and straightened up.
Her grin widened, so she noticed.
“Oh, Jason an’ I are gonna go check on my buddy Waylon, see if we can’t work out what he was doin’ at the gala. If youse threw down he might like ta see ya there?”
Which honestly left Danny at a loss, until Tim explained.
“Killer Croc. His actual name’s Waylon Jones, and he was Harley’s tenant in Coney Island before coming back to Gotham,” he said casually, and Danny stilled.
There was an intensity in the room that hadn’t been there before, a sudden wave that sent a chill down his spine. Something from Harley, suddenly predator sharp in a way he hadn’t felt since Skulker had been a serious threat.
For the life of him though, he couldn’t put his finger on what though, since she didn’t move. Just grinned like she had been all along.
“People called him Killer Croc cuz of his skin condition. He gave up tryin’ ta change their minds,” she said with a light shrug, completely belied by the intensity of her stare.
Danny couldn’t look away until she released him, something satisfied in the quirk of her lip. Like she could see the sudden well of memory in his chest.
He’d never actually given in to all the things his parents had called Phantom. They’d been ashamed of all of them when the truth came out, and he’d only had to put up with them for a few years.
He tried to imagine decades of it, being called a monster for things he couldn’t control. For nothing more than a weird scaly skin condition.
He couldn’t imagine going full bomb vest over it, but Danny was man enough to admit he might just be a little touchy because of Jason’s death.
Which Waylon might not even know about.
Suddenly he actually did want to know why they’d attacked the gala.
Until now it had just been inevitable, someone was going to so why not them, but… well. He’d felt it under the whole plan, every stupid step.
Jason had trusted Waylon, not Danny, to keep things from getting out of hand. To know that a tussle was part of the fun.
Danny hadn’t planned on asking, but. Yeah.
“I’d like that,” he agreed quickly, nodding, at about the same time as Tucker found his own voice.
“Wait, that’s a skin condition? He’s just like that?” The techie asked sharply, staring around at Tim and Damian to confirm.
And got a disdainful look from Damian back.
“Tt, what else would it be? Do you know many scaled people?” He asked archly.
Danny’s mind snapped directly to Dora and her asshole brother. Knew Tucker’s had gone to the same place a second later.
“More than you’d think,” he and Tucker said in unison, and they shared a grin. If there was one benefit to their fucked up ghost hunting years, it was shutting down smart ass remarks.
Damian only looked more annoyed at being corrected, and Tucker shrugged.
“I thought he mighta been a scientist and tried to fuse himself with a lizard or something, like in Spider-Man,” he elaborated, and Danny kinda hated how much their lives resembled superhero movies.
Not that he’d say that in a room full of bats.
Damian’s brows drew down even further and he sneered, displeasure evident, but Jason cut him off before he could speak.
“Before you make a comment about mad scientists I’m gonna remind you we live in a city with Viktor Fries,” he said dryly and Damian’s mouth snapped shut.
Big brother privileges.
Wouldn’t it be nice if Ellie had given Danny those?
Tucker gave Danny a confused look, and Danny just shrugged back. He didn’t pay much attention to Gotham’s various rogues; he didn’t want to tempt his Obsession.
Tim chimed in again, without actually looking at Tucker which was kinda impressive. Guess they were just very obviously new to Gotham.
“Dr Freeze. He uses a lot of liquid nitrogen and freeze rays, he’s usually after money or diamonds to try and cure his wife,” he explained with a slight shrug.
Tucker made a confused noise.
“So… couldn’t Bruce just pay him off and keep him from bothering the city?” He asked carefully, glancing around the room.
Jason actually snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.
“If he could, he would have. What Fries wants isn’t possible yet.”
Not possible for humans. Part of Danny perked up, wondering if Frostbite might have the answers… but no. It wasn’t his job to solve every problem in the world.
Bringing healthy humans to the Zone was iffy. An already sick woman… well, she might get hastened along her journey to the afterlife.
And this was a conversation he really wanted to keep away from, honestly. Gotham’s rogues weren’t his problem. Couldn’t be his problem.
Danny fought ghosts, unkillable entities who enjoyed missile attacks as sport. He wasn’t interested in learning how squishy human rogues were; it had been bad enough with his friends in the line of fire.
Mega pass on being the firing squad.
He almost reconsidered the trip tomorrow, but… he trusted Jason. Trusted Jason knew where he was coming from, and that neither of them wanted to trip Danny’s Obsession.
So he gave the big guy a smile and an elbow nudge, nodding for the door.
“Not that rogue chat isn’t fascinating, but you were taking me to bed?” He asked hopefully, and only realised what he’d said when Harley stuffed half her fist in her mouth to laugh.
And now, now Danny had a choice. He could feel the heat threatening to build, and blushing? Blushing would make things much worse.
Jason’s cheeks had pinked and that was adorable and Danny would ectoblast anyone who gave him shit for it, but if DANNY blushed, Tucker would never let it go.
No, the better answer had to be to play it off, and what did you do to counter red in makeup? You added green.
Not that Danny had used ectoplasm as a fucking colour corrector before, but he might as well try. So he let his grin go saucy, eyebrows waggling, and tried a teeny bit of spectral ice to cool his cheeks.
It made Jason chuckle again, so he’d take it as a win, and Jason gave him another bow, hand still tucked in Danny’s arm.
“Your chariot awaits.”
Tim and Tucker mimed puking almost simultaneously. They were perfect for each other. And had no taste, so that worked out well for them.
Danny ignored them all and gave the room a last wave, heading for the door and tugging Jason along with.
“Night all, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Harley, and Tucker just text me when you’re up and we’ll see about getting you home,” he called brightly, definitely not about to stop no matter what anyone said.
Not even when Harley hauled herself vertical and call after them,
“Oh, Danny! If the bat calendars do come out, shall I grab you a Red Hood one?” She asked saucily and Danny felt Jason’s grip spasm in his elbow.
Which. He was gonna try putting together later, but tonight he really did wanna get out of there before long.
Who even was Red Hood?
Danny’d never seen him and he hadn’t turned up at the gala, so he didn’t have a guess ready, just like Batwoman.
A couple of people in one of Danny’s classes simped constantly over his thighs, but Danny now figured it was because they hadn’t met Jason.
It was probably easiest to agree, so he gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder.
“Autographed please!”
**
The headache that had lessened as he talked to Harley was back in full swing, along with a throbbing pulse in his temples and roiling nausea in his gut.
Constantine’s damn cigarettes weren’t helping, but Bruce just didn’t feel up to wrestling them away from him.
He’d expected… well. He hadn’t expected Constantine to come through full of fire and indignation, accusing Bruce of making the fucking mess.
His bad feeling had intensified too, not in the slightest relaxed that Constantine could feel that scrungly fucking kid all the way up in the manor.
No matter what Constantine said about the “halfa”, that could not bode well. Not with the look he’d seen on the man’s fucking face.
Steph called him an occult OSHA violation in a trench coat. Anything that scared him worried Bruce.
He could put up with some smoke and some pain to get the information he needed with a minimum of fuss.
He was beginning to wish he’d gotten some sleep though. Or could have someone get him a drink of water.
He’d shown Constantine the missed call logs from Amity Park, and the magician swore in ways that made Bruce see flashes of colour.
(That might have been the concussion talking, but Bruce could remember the almost buzzing swearwords he’d heard from Sam Manson and wasn’t sure. Nothing could be trusted.)
Not at the volume of the logs, that hadn’t surprised him. No, Constantine had gotten serious when Bruce shared the logs Tim had first shown him.
‘Earth is gone. The sky is green and Earth is gone.’
“Alright, that? That’s very fuckin’ bad,” the magician grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a flask for the first time since he’d arrived.
At least it wasn’t another goddamn cigarette. Little fucking meow meow magician.
(Bruce wasn’t quite sure what that one meant, but Steph usually said it with enough derision it had to apply.)
“So I assumed,” he gritted out, jaw clenching against another pang of pain.
Constantine levelled him with a blank stare. Bruce made a conscious effort to relax his face. The tensing wasn’t helping anyway.
“No, Batman. I mean really, really not fuckin’ good. They never called again?” He asked, and the sudden gravity in his voice sunk through layers of ache and irritation.
He sounded as serious as he’d been about the oath. That definitely wasn’t good.
Bruce shook his head, scrolling demonstratively to the end of the file.
“Not after this cluster of messages, all within the same day.”
Tim had all sorts of explanations for that. Bruce fervently hoped he was right and it was just pique on the part of Amity Park; he’d take them being angry with the League over anything else.
Especially anything that made John Constantine look that serious.
“An’ the town’s still there?” He asked, like that was a reasonable question.
Except… Bruce suddenly wasn’t sure. There were alumni from Amity Park, people who’d moved away, but the sheer lack of online information about the town itself…
They hadn’t even been able to get a clear satellite image.
He should have noticed that. He should have checked that. If he hadn’t been so twisted up in his worries about Jason…
But no, that wasn’t fair.
Bruce closed his eyes a moment, calming himself down. Breathing through the sluggish throb at his temples.
None of their Amity Parkers talked about the town like it was missing, or anything out of the ordinary. His children would have flagged it.
This wasn’t an oversight, but Constantine may know something that none of his family could have assumed.
He just had to get this finished. This briefing with Constantine, his report to the League, Jason… no. Sleep first, some pain killers, a more thorough scan.
Maybe a day of recovery, as soon as he could afford one. Wait until his head cleared.
Harley was right, Jason deserved the best Bruce could give him, and trying to talk to his son now would not go well. Bruce was only barely tolerating Constantine’s presence.
For all the man was alarmingly combative about this subject, he was a pussycat compared to Jason in a mood. Jason knew far more about what would hurt Bruce most.
Jason had always been what hurt Bruce most, ever since he’d held his lifeless body. Jason, and even the thought of one of his other children following him where Bruce couldn’t go.
No. He just had to get through this.
Refocusing on John-Bloody… no, that wasn’t helping either. On Constantine.
“From what we’ve gathered from people who have left Amity Park since, they still have access to the outside world.” He wasn’t quite sure what else he could commit to now.
It didn’t seem to satisfy. It didn’t satisfy Bruce either.
“Okay, but ya remember what I said about the fabric of reality bein’ swiss fuckin’ cheese around this city?” Constantine asked, his usual drawl starkly absent.
Bruce found himself tensing again. Wishing this was something he could fight.
“Yes. We haven’t been able to receive any satellite imagery of the town, nor any footage or communication online from within.”
He could pull up all the data, all the social media, but he knew Constantine wouldn’t care. It wasn’t what he’d asked for.
And sure enough, Constantine hauled himself back to his feet, striding towards the zeta tubes.
“Right. Well, guess we’re takin’ a field trip to th’ Watchtower, B-man, because you’re really not gonna like what I’d have to do to this lovely cave to get the intel I need. We’ll need every sensor you lot have, because that?”
Constantine half turned on his walk, finger jabbing at that last message. Barely even glancing in Bruce’s direction.
It felt like an accusation.
“That’s not fuckin’ good. That sounds like the Infinite Fucking Realms,” he declared darkly, trench coat billowing around him as he stalked across the cave.
Bruce almost flinched. Like he had no control over his expressions.
He needed sleep.
He needed answers. Needed to know what had happened, and what had to happen to fix it.
Needed to know they hadn’t let a half dead child take on an entire alternate dimension alone, because no matter how little he trusted the man Danny was, the thought of the child still ached.
Needed to know if that suspicion was actually justified by anything but his own inability to accept Jason’s clear. To have an unknown factor in Jason’s life.
Constantine’s reaction was one point in Bruce’s favour.
Whatever they found about the current state of Amity Park… would tell the rest.
He forced himself out of his seat to follow Constantine, hand straying to the pocket on his belt that held his emergency stimulants.
Alfred wouldn’t be pleased, the tiny pills carried an adrenaline boost that was wearing even at full health, but he needed to be sharp. Just for a few more hours.
He could pass what they learned off to Clark and Diana, and to his children when he returned. Just for a little while. A few hours.
Amity Park had gone unnoticed for years, as little as Bruce liked that fact. He could only hope that whatever threat it presented would lie dormant just a little longer.
**
Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.
He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.
But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.
More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.
And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.
He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.
He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.
Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.
The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week, if you were generous.
Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.
He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.
At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.
Jason could feel his aura.
Concern-worry-worry.
Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.
But Danny hadn’t pulled away.
It’d be weird to pull away now.
Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.
“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.
Unless theirs counted. Probably not.
He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.
Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.
He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.
And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.
“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…
Well.
He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.
“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”
And just like that, the pit dropped out of Jason’s stomach.
He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.
Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.
She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.
Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.
Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.
From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.
Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.
And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.
Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.
He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.
He’d felt it the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.
Well.
Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.
He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.
It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.
People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?
He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.
The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.
He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.
It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.
Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.
He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.
Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.
Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.
He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.
Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.
But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.
It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.
He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.
If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.
It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.
Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.
He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.
Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.
Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.
Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half turning to frown down at the smaller man.
“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.
Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?
Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?
Would Danny do that for him?
The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.
“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.
Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.
It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.
The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.
He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.
It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.
He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.
Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.
“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.
Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.
“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.
And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.
Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.
“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.
They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.
Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.
“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.
Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.
Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.
Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.
Fuck off Jason Todd, Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.
“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.
Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.
He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.
Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.
Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.
“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”
Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.
Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?
Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.
Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.
And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.
Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.
Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?
Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.
Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.
And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?
It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…
Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.
It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.
And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.
Jason was gonna blame Bruce for this chronic overthinking. Definitely not something he’d had on his own.
He’d thought about it long enough that he could feel Danny tensing, and he forced himself to snap out of it. In all honesty, it wasn’t his business what Danny thought he’d get out of it.
In the end, there was no point second guessing what someone else wanted to do with their time. It was Danny’s call. Not his.
And that kinda helped.
He half shrugged, leaning back into Danny for a moment and tugging him forwards again.
“I mean, we’re not “Thanksgiving at each others’ houses” close, but… he’s helped me out since I came back. More than I expected anyone to. I don’t mind if you wanna meet him,” Jason explained.
Danny obediently moved back into position to go, his aura a gentle hum of curiosity-concern-interest at Jason’s back.
“So do I make my own way, or…”
“I’ll come get you, probably around eleven?” Jason offered, definitely NOT thinking about Danny being back in this same position very soon.
He was gonna have to get another helmet for the bike. Immortal Ghost King or not, it just felt rude at this point.
**
After Danny and Jason left, Tim, Harley, and Tucker played a few more rounds of Mariokart together. Switched to a couple other games. Damian abandoned them almost immediately, disappearing half way through a round.
Probably to start a patrol of his own, or go try to spy on Danny and Jason.
Eventually Harley wished both the boys well and headed out with a cheery wave.
“Right, maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow or maybe not, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called cheerfully, then paused and pointed at Tucker. “An’ keep an eye on Tim. Make sure he sleeps.”
Tim rolled his eyes, not looking up from their new round of SpiderHeck to wave her off. Tucker did, and Tim took advantage to swing across the map and cut him down with a lightsaber.
Amateur.
“Huh? Oh, sure! Fucking hell Tim,” Tuck complained as his attention switched back to the defeat screen.
Tim snickered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs.
“Hey, not my fault you can’t keep your head in the game,” he teased smugly. Tucker poked him in the face.
“Not my fault I have enough manners to look at people when they talk to me. So is Harley gonna be staying in the manor too?” He added curiously, glancing around.
They easily had the rooms for it, though Tim didn’t really wanna think about it. What might Harley get up to on a 2am snack run?
Although it wasn’t that far from 2am now.
“I don’t think so, she has a place in the city at the moment,” he mused, his mind beginning to shift.
It wasn’t that he’d been waiting for witnesses to clear out, exactly. Everyone was in on the secret, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to head down to the Bat Cave even when they had the larger group.
It was just… they’d been having fun. It’d be rude to leave their guests, and Bruce was already being cranky down in the cave.
Of course, Tim’d gotten another ping on his zeta tube monitoring program an hour or so ago. Constantine and Bruce both checking out, probably to the Watchtower.
So it’d be safe now, and they’d reached an okay stopping point. Tim had no doubt that Tucker would prefer checking out the cave over any games.
Tim couldn’t let him on the bat computer yet, but he could show Tucker a couple of Tim’s better scanning programs. Maybe even ping Babs and see how the others were doing.
See if she had time to talk to Tucker in person. Maybe he could show them both how he’d encrypted that server, which Tim suspected would involve ectoplasm.
Not like he couldn’t link the PDA to an un-networked monitor so that they could all see what he was doing though. Hell, they could record it for Bruce.
He’d love having answers to the Amity Park problem. If Tucker would let Tim run the PDA for a few minutes…
Still, it was just good manners to check in.
Alfred would be thrilled that they were learning to communicate.
Pulling out his phone, he shot Bruce a quick text.
‘Hey, we’re gonna head down to the Cave. You mind if I give a tour?’
It didn’t take long to get a reply, which was usually a good sign. It meant Bruce wasn’t hyperfocused enough to ignore his phone.
Maybe things with Constantine were going well.
The length of the reply wasn’t as reassuring, but not a surprise either. Bruce wasn’t exactly wordy in person, and only less so over text.
‘Go ahead.’
No indication of when he’d be back, but that was fine. They could compare notes whenever that turned out to be.
Tim turned to Tucker, grinning in anticipation of the other man’s reaction.
“So, wanna see something cool?” He asked, and felt gratified when Tucker’s eyes widened and a matching grin spread across his face.
But who wouldn’t be excited to see the Bat Cave?
“Hell yeah!”
**
Tucker followed Tim eagerly out of the games room, mind already buzzing with all the things the young genius might want to show him.
Did they have a tech lab in Wayne Manor? They definitely had the space for it, and it had to be safer than keeping one at Tim’s downtown apartment.
Bruce might not have been much of a techie but Tim was personally responsible for enough big developments that he was considered a prodigy even in Tucker’s circles.
Of course the guy had the advantage of near limitless money and resources, especially after Drake Industries merged with Wayne Enterprises.
With that kinda money, Tucker himself could have revolutionised the world. But, Tuck had the advantage of the Ghost Zone and ecto tech, so he wasn’t too upset.
Especially not if Tim was really going to let him see where the magic happened.
He did nearly let out an audible groan as Tim led him into an office and activated a secret elevator in a clock. Maybe Danny had a point… maybe all billionaires were dramatic assholes.
Maybe Sam had a point, and they were all evil. Maybe Tim was bringing him down to an evil lab.
Caution reluctantly seeped into Tucker’s excitement, but he fought it off sharply. Tim was a good guy, they were becoming real friends, and Tuck couldn’t believe a fellow techie would betray him.
Besides, no one in Gotham knew shit about ghost tech, or liminals. It wasn’t like Tucker would actually be in any danger from a scrawny nerd like Tim.
Even if he did have very nice shoulders. Shapely arms. An almost snatched waist that almost tipped to androgyny, but he carried it so well.
Anyway.
Tim definitely wouldn’t hurt him.
It was probably just a super secure underground tech lab, to keep anyone from stealing secrets. Tucker let himself hype up again, imagining the kind of security measures Tim could install underground.
It’d remove the chances of someone sneaking through a back window for sure. And sure, rock wouldn’t stop a ghost, but it stopped pretty much anyone else if you added seismic sensors.
It made sense, really, putting all Tim’s very coolest and most secret cutting edge tech experiments somewhere that no one would expect, and almost no one could get to.
Tucker found himself rocking forward on his toes as the elevator descended, and flushed a little when he noticed Tim smiling.
He was excited, sue him. It beat worrying that he was about to get his first go at the Danny Fenton Lab Experience.
Thankfully no one ever cared enough to capture the nerds.
Tim was quiet on the way down, clearly savouring the anticipation, and that suited Tucker fine. It wasn’t a long ride, and he all but bounced out of the doors as soon as they opened.
Stopped.
Stared around at blank stone walls, stalactites on the ceiling, and… a waterfall? A robotic dinosaur? A row of display cases?
This was not a super cool high tech research lab.
This kinda might be a supervillain cave.
Tucker’s heart sank for a moment, especially as he noticed more and more Batman themed pieces on walls and cases.
Bruce Wayne (please don’t let it be Tim’s secret project any more, Tucker couldn’t bear it) was obsessed with Batman. Collecting trophies.
Probably wanted to catch the hero himself and stuff him in a case. Rich people were all like that apparently.
Except… the locker room? Off to one side? Where a freshly laundered Red Robin uniform hung, neat and pristine?
Collector freaks never let anyone clean their stuff, especially if it might have had gross hero sweat to obsess over.
And that was the Batmobile, parked next to a large garage door. An array of motorcycles, and Tucker was no expert on Gotham’s heroes but there were at least three colour schemes.
Someone had been changing the oil on one of them.
A massive computer screen, surrounded by smaller screens at various angles, and as he approached in awe he spotted a bat sticker on almost every monitor.
No way anyone ever stole THE Batcomputer. People would notice. Someone would talk, there were legends about Batman’s set up!
Half Tucker’s class would have killed for a look at the tech, no way they wouldn’t know if it ever got loose.
Which meant.
Tucker knew his jaw had dropped. Couldn’t find it in himself to close it as he turned back to Tim, eyes wide, and watched all colour drain from the other man’s face.
“Is this the fucking Bat Cave?! Is Bruce Fucking Wayne actually Batman?!” He exclaimed eagerly, not even wondering why Tim suddenly looked so shocked.
This really was the best day ever.
Wait.
“You DO know the fucking Oracle!”
**
Well.
The curse of Robin had come for Tim at last. Bruce was absolutely going to fucking kill him.
But, okay, in his defence, it totally wasn’t Tim’s fault! He’d assumed Tucker already knew because Danny one thousand percent definitely did, he called Dick out in costume!
And Tucker was still trustworthy! Still an asset! And he’d help Tim get past the firewalls, get into Amity Park, all they had to do was get enough work done before Bruce came back.
And killed Tim.
For bringing an unknowing civilian into the fucking bat cave.
Best day ever.
Tim sucked in a great rasping breath, suddenly aware that he’d completely stopped breathing somewhere in there, and shook his head.
Okay. Snap out of it Tim.
Those nights with Alfred-supervision had made him weak, no way only thirty-six hours without sleep should have done this to him.
Too bad, sleep deprivation would have been a great excuse.
He wasted a moment lamenting his lack of immediate coffee and turned his focus to the actual problem: the Amity Park firewall.
Tucker was still staring at him in awe and triumph, though worry was creeping in. Tim pulled on a charming smile, walking to the batcomputer and gesturing for Tucker to join him.
“Uh… yeah, sorry, I thought Danny already told you or I’d have said. I didn’t mean to spring it on you,” he lied, like he’d have ever let the secret slip.
Tucker pouted then, folding his arms.
“Oh, of course Danny knows. Bet that’s how he and Jason met. So does that mean you’re…” he trailed off curiously, clearly hoping Tim would fill in the blank.
Tim considered being mildly offended that Tucker didn’t think he could be Oracle, but he valued his digital security. Zero chance Babs wouldn’t be pulling this video up later for a laugh.
He nodded to his suit instead, the new one hanging waiting. Probably for tomorrow night at this point, since there was no reason to change just to hang out in the cave.
“Red Robin. I ah… saw you last night at the gala,” he added sheepishly, wondering just how much of Tim’s minor breakdown Tucker had noticed while waiting to give Tim the tablet.
And Tucker’s eyes lit up, clearly remembering, and he grinned, clapping his hands together.
“Oh! That explains why you left, huh? I guess someone had to deal with the rogues and stuff,” he mused thoughtfully.
Tim had to hope he wasn’t thinking about the exact same thing. At least the discovery was going well so far; Tim couldn’t think of many people he’d had to share this particular secret with, and most of the ones who did had been villains at one time or another, but still.
Tucker was keeping up, wasn’t freaking out, and had gotten over his surprise in record time. Tim definitely wasn’t disappointed.
Tuck had been a vigilante himself after all, it’s not like he was a civilian. And had already admitted he didn’t pay much attention to vigilantes, so he might not even know which one Red Robin was.
It’d just. Have been nice if he was more impressed.
Not that Tim cared. He wasn’t Red Robin to impress people, and usually didn’t even think about it.
And Tucker didn’t seem surprised or upset when Tim steered him to one of the tables beside the batcomputer instead of the big baby itself, and got one of the un-networked monitors out.
“Pretty much. I get a little… antsy if a takedown goes too easily, because with Riddler it usually means we’re missing something,” he explained dryly, pointing Tucker to a second wheely chair to pull over, “but yesterday it was apparently just a shitty rush job on his part.”
Tucker snickered at that, wheeling the directed chair over and sitting eagerly beside Tim, still darting looks at the bigger screens.
“Should I be mad I didn’t get their best work?” He mock-pondered, and Tim snickered.
“Probably. But Riddler and Croc aren’t really A-listers or big on the mass destruction side anyway.”
“Waylon,” Tucker corrected almost absent mindedly, pulling out his PDA.
Tim missed exactly what he did next as he remembered Harley’s little tidbit, and he pulled a face.
“Yeah… I’ve not exactly had the one-on-one time with him Jason’s had, I don’t think we’re on a first name basis,” he explained, shaking his head as the monitor sprung to life.
Tucker snorted a laugh, flicking through screens on the PDA.
“What, Mr Jones then? Want me to just start downloading the Amity Park records first, then we’ll go hunting?” He added, and Tim nodded quickly, snickering himself at the vision.
Nothing threw a shining ball of confusion into a fight like calling someone “Mr Jones”. He’d have to try it if Croc… Mr Jones was gonna be back on the scene.
It was the name that went on all of his prison paperwork, so it wasn’t like it was a secret identity the same way the bats had.
“Honestly? Better than Waylon. And yeah, we can start with the government files and news reports, just so we have a backup. Then we’ll look around and find out what else B thinks we’ll need.”
Tucker snickered beside him, flicking quickly through screens on the PDA. Despite it being purely for his benefit, Tim pretty much ignored the monitor, keeping most of his attention on the device itself.
It was chunky and very retro, but given the processing power and space for storage? There was a definite charm to it.
Maybe Tucker would let him play around on it later.
But, in the spirit of not being killed when Bruce returned… there was one thing they definitely needed to talk about.
“I…” Tim sucked in a deep breath. He’d put good money on Tuck, Danny, and Sam being what actually solved Amity Park’s last calls to the League.
It might be a traumatic memory. Probably was. But he had to ask. And better him than Bruce.
Tucker looked up when he trailed off, making a curious noise. Not exactly asking what Tim wasn’t saying, but showing he’d noticed the pause.
Sighing to himself, Tim wheeled across to the batcomputer. Bruce probably still had the files up.
“I also think we need to talk about these,” he explained, pulling up the records for the Justice League’s missed calls. Hundreds of them.
Tucker just looked nonplussed for a moment, then sobered. Probably when the dates sank in and told him what they were talking about.
“Oh… yeah. Probably,” he agreed, sounding more serious than Tim had ever heard him. Which kinda proved Tim’s point about traumatic memories.
Leaving the records on screen, Tim wheeled back over, pulling out one of his larger recorders. This conversation might take a while.
“Do you mind if I just record what you tell me? B’s gonna want a full write up. He’s off ripping a strip off of Constantine as we speak, probably, cuz whatever he did… this lot went past voice mail and straight to the trash.”
It wasn’t exactly an apology, wasn’t exactly an excuse, and Tim cut himself off before it turned into whining. The past was past, and it was too late to change that now.
Something complicated crossed Tucker’s face as he spoke, and Tim tried not to look too closely. Didn’t want his overly analytical side latching on.
The only thing they could do was work out what happened, and if there was still anything the league could do to make up for majorly dropping the ball.
Tucker sucked in a deep breath of his own, letting it out in a low whistle.
“Y’know, I thought we were coming down here for fun and tech talk,” he said almost wistfully, and Tim chuckled wryly.
“We can definitely still do that. It’ll just unknot Bruce’s panties some if we’ve got this part out of the way before he gets back. That way you’re just telling me, no “swooping menace in the shadows”,” he added half sarcastically, and Tucker laughed.
He looked… well. Haunted. But that wasn’t exactly a sensible descriptor for a guy who spent years hunting ghosts.
Not too bad though. No tremors, no tightness in the eyes or jaw that said he was hiding something. His skin was still a rich, warm brown, no paler than before.
If he was having a deeper reaction than the tiredness, he was hiding it in a way Tim couldn’t hope to spot. That… was probably the best sign Tim had seen about this particular shit show.
Chuckling to himself, Tucker checked the PDA one more time, then set it on the table and turned to face Tim directly.
“Yeah, might as well do it during the file download. Your setup is gorgeous, but that’s still gonna take a while. If you ask me, you’re not gonna need to ask Danny about it later, right?” He asked, and Tim bit his lip.
Less good sign. Seemed Danny carried more of the weight of this one too.
“B’ll probably want his side, and to check the stories match, but Jason won’t let him push Danny into anything,” he offered instead of a blanket statement.
Tucker cocked his head a little, examining Tim for a long moment in a way that made him feel almost… dissected. Like a piece of tech Tucker had taken apart, and was looking for secrets in.
Finally the older boy nodded and shrugged, leaning back.
“Yeah, fair. It’s damn hard to pin Danny down if he wants to leave anyway. There’s some Fenton tech that’d do it, but it’s not like you can get that here. So… where do you want me to start?”
Filing away that comment about the Fenton tech for later, Tim jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the big screen.
“Do we have time to start at the beginning? The first calls?” He asked, half expecting the answer to be “no”.
Tucker glanced down at his PDA, and snickered.
“Well, I can give you the Cliff’s Notes version. And then if you have questions you can ask?”
Which… yeah, Tim glanced at their little offline monitor. It was a pretty big download; Tucker had meant it when he said he was grabbing everything for them.
That had to be a sign of good faith, right?
And then after that they’d have to shift everything over to an un-networked hard drive. After whatever Tuck had to do to de-ecto it.
Shoulders settling, Tim put the recorder on the table before him.
“Sounds good. So… Tucker Foley, current top student at MIT and soon to be receiver of a Wayne Enterprises internship,” he teased, enjoying the way Tucker snickered again, also visibly relaxing.
Might as well make this as comfortable as possible. They could break after Tucker finished for some drinks or something.
“What happened in Amity Park?”
**
On the Watchtower, Bruce slid his phone back into its pouch on his utility belt and returned his attention to the pacing magician.
He’d pulled up every type of reading they could gather from Amity Park for the week of the last distress call, and from their current logs.
Thermal imaging, infrared and ultraviolets, seismography, electromagnetic waves, spectrography, and several that Bruce wasn’t sure what they were, just that the Justice League Dark were the only ones who used them.
The fact that even Bruce could see extremely obvious spikes on more than half of them was not a good sign. It made checking the dates almost superfluous.
Nor was the way that even though those spikes had lowered within that same day… they’d never gone all the way back down.
In every magical sense they could detect (and half a dozen scientific ways he was actually comfortable with), Amity Park glowed like a cartoon nuke.
The only good news was that their radiation sensors had gone straight back down to normal after the initial spikes. Which made no scientific sense given the normal decay of radioactive materials, but Bruce was not going to argue.
He appreciated Tim checking in though. The gesture towards clearer communication. He wasn’t sure exactly what Tim would want to show Harley in a tour of the bat cave, but honestly?
He wasn’t going to ask. It was nice to have something that wasn’t his problem, and he trusted Tim and Harley, together or separately.
It wasn’t like Tim would bring anyone else down to the cave.
dededos
jbbartram-illu
pixelskylines
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
discoholicmusic
