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Chapter Text

When he accepted the crown and sat on the throne, Danny did not expect this. He didn't really know what to expect. The Infinite Realms have been without a king for several millennia, and it seems that they did not need him at all. However, as Clockwork said, someone must definitely sit on the throne, and since Danny defeated Pariah Dark, now this burden falls on his shoulders. Along with the burden, a whole bunch of responsibilities fell on Danny's shoulders, which for some reason no one mentioned. However, Danny himself should have guessed this. It turns out ghosts have a bureaucracy. It turns out that the Council of Observers was not in a hurry to deal with the papers that came from all over the Kingdoms to the king for signature. It turns out that for three thousand years so many of these papers have accumulated that the hall that was reserved for them had to be increased three times in size so that they all fit. It turns out that Danny has to deal with all this.

And, I must say, Danny was very responsible about this. In a way, that was a welcome change after so many battles.
With the permission of Clockwork and the Council, he simply burned to hell all the documents that are more than a thousand years old. It turned out to be a solid two-thirds, but the remaining papers were still enough to fill the entire Fenton Works to the top. Having selected several assistants among the palace clerks, he had them sort the documents by type. After a month of continuous painstaking work, it turned out that ghosts like to complain. They LOVE to complain. There were even a couple of complaints about the green sky in the zone. Seriously? Are these bastards complaining to the King about the color of the sky? Danny laughed nervously at this and burned the papers.There were a lot of complaints from the inhabitants of one section of the Zone about the inhabitants of another section, and this is already a little more adequate. There were also complaints about royal knights being too rude when the Council sent them out to settle big conflicts (Danny made a point of talking to Frighty and getting him to do a peace briefing with the knights). About forty complaints about the Fentons and GIW in the last four years.
There were also complaints from demons. A lot, really a lot. They mainly complained about the people with whom they signed contracts. Luckily, most of them were no longer up to date, so Danny boldly threw out all the complaints that are over a hundred years old. After all, a human's lifespan is quite short, and one who has made a contract with a demon is even shorter. Unless, of course, the person asked the demon for a long life, but there were only a few of them. The demons also complained about each other, and it was such bullshit that Danny just threw all such complaints in the trash, because what the hell is he supposed to deal with? If you really need to, write a new complaint. Let them write, Danny will have something to light the fireplace in his bedroom.
It was starting to piss off. Even though Clockwork had taken pity on him and stretched out his time a little in his office, that didn't mean that Danny didn't get tired. Oh, he really started to get tired. He wanted to deal with all this as quickly as possible, so as not to leave the work for later.Not allowing himself much rest, Danny stayed at the table for days, so focused on his work that the palace servants had to call in heavy artillery - Frostbite - to get Danny to even eat. Even though he was a powerful Ghost King, that didn't mean he couldn't exhaust himself and earn overwork. After all, he still needs to sleep and eat.

However, returning to the complaints about the contractors... There was one name that came up surprisingly often. John Constantine. In twenty years, this asshole had managed to piss off a good dozen demons who spared no ink to tell the King of Ghosts how much they were offended. Apparently, John Constantine was a fucking monster. At the very least, he became a real nightmare for Danny within a week. Putting other things aside, he took care of this man, and soon a whole rack had to be allocated for complaints about him. Real headache. It seems that, among other things, this man managed to sell his soul (and not only his soul, God) to several demons at once, and now they were quarreling with each other, unable to figure out who had more rights to this soul. Honestly, Danny had no idea why the fuck he was one little soul of some swindler. (Hell, he really is some kind of tax-occult swindler). But, apparently, it is very necessary, since they wrote complaints with such fury not only against John Constantine, but also against each other.
Danny did not want to deal with all this for a long time, so he simply visited the offended demons and bought Konstantin's debts from them. He didn't even have to threaten them. Almost. Of course, he could have just let the Demons kill this man and tear his soul apart, but... that would not be his style at all (not at all in line with his defensive obsession, sue him for that). In addition, the more complaints Danny looked at, the more he realized that Konstantin could be a very useful person if Danny made him work off the debt. After all, how many ingeniously quirky occultists with such skill had he known? No one.
Therefore, having forced one of the clerks to prepare a new contract and documents confirming that Danny is now Constantin's only creditor, he decided to visit his new debtor.
It was not difficult to find him, the universe in which the occultist lived was not far from his own.
Putting on the most decent human appearance he could, so as not to shock Constantine too much with his appearance, Danny opened the portal and stepped into it, documents to be signed in his hands. He aimed at the person's approximate position and hoped he wouldn't catch Constantine having sex, or while he was in the shower, or anything else embarrassing.

***
It was one of the few meetings of the League to which Constantine nevertheless came. Not because Zatanna threatened to kill him if he didn't show up. Why he was there is not clear. But he honestly served the prescribed hour and a half. During this time, his hand reached forty-two times for a pocket of cigarettes, but stopped when he caught Batman's murderous gaze. Okay, he really wants to smoke, but the premature death from batrang in the eye has not attracted him yet. So he just drank water, emptying the second carafe.
Everything was quiet. And when the meeting came to an end and everyone began to rise from their seats, something happened that no one expected. Okay, knowing his luck, Constantine subconsciously expected something like this.

A few meters away from the wall, the space parted to the sides, as if it had been cut with a knife, and green light poured out of the gap that appeared. An unsettling feeling followed the light, and the League members froze as they took up fighting positions. A hand emerged from the green slit, grabbed the edge of the slit and casually pushed it aside, as if it were some kind of simple curtain.
A man stepped into the hall. It was a completely normal guy. He was of average height, thin, in a slightly wrinkled white shirt and black jeans, with disheveled black hair and traces of prolonged sleep deprivation on his face. In his hands he held something that looked like a folder with documents. An absolutely ordinary guy who simply stank of death magic. John looked back at Zatanna and Captain Marvel, both surprised and horrified on their faces. Obviously they felt it too. The green rift of space closed as soon as the guy was completely in the hall.
He looked around, slightly surprised by the number of people. His blue eyes grew larger as he shifted his gaze from one hero to another, finally settling on Constantine, who stood a little on the edge.
He cleared his throat.

"Apparently, I came at a slightly inopportune time. " he said, straightening his back and awkwardly rubbing his neck. "I want Mr. John Constantine."

Constantine backed away, and the rest of the superheroes finally came to life. Someone pushed the magician back, shielding him with themselves. Funny, John thought distantly. This creature exudes such otherworldly power that, probably, it will not be difficult for it to kill everyone in this hall within ten minutes. Though it might take a little longer for Superman and Captain Marvel. Minute fifteen.

Superman himself was slow to test this, stepping forward slightly and deciding to use a diplomatic approach first. (Deep down John hoped this would help, because he wasn't ready to die yet, damn it).

"Who are you?"

The guy (how old was he? Did he look fifteen? Sixteen?) glanced at the Kryptonian, shifting his papers from one hand to the other. He silently studied the hero's face for several seconds, pondering what to answer.

"You can call me Danny. I am Mr. John Constantine's new creditor and I would like to discuss the details of our deal with him." The guy –Danny– answered very politely.

Some of the heroes looked skeptically at Constantine. Of course, everyone knew that he made very dubious deals with demons, however, remembering this fact in this way was a little strange.

"I'm not sure I remember making any deal with you, kid." Constantine said in a hoarse voice, taking a step away from the Green Lantern blocking him. The longer he looked at the guy, the more clearly he understood: this is not a human. No, absolutely not.

"Oh, we didn’t really make deals. However, the other day I bought your debts from all the demons you were foolish to mess with. Now only I can lay claim to your soul, Mr. Constantine. And also on your heart, your corpse, your posthumous incarnation and your firstborn."

Constantine swallowed.
What? This creature, this Danny... just took and ransomed everything John owed them from the demons...?

"But all this," Danny continued, looking down at the papers in his hands, "to be honest, I absolutely don’t need it. Therefore, I have prepared a new contract with other conditions, which I would like to discuss. This is the perfect answer to your question, Mr..."

"Superman."

"Mr Superman, sir. Well, not the strangest name I've heard."

He hesitated, casting an awkward glance at the crowd.

"So, am I really out of time? We can arrange a more suitable time for the meeting, however, due to the time difference and my busy schedule, this will be quite difficult. I'm sure you have things to do too, so if there's nothing urgent right now, I'd like to finish everything today."

Constantine for the first time regretted that he really did not have urgent matters now. He glanced at Batman, who, noticing this, nodded slightly.

"Okay, kid. We can stay here." He walked over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs. "Do you mind if a couple of my friends stay here too?"

Danny breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to the chair next to John, forcing Hal, who was standing next to him, to back away.

"Yeah, of course."

They waited for Batman, Zatanna Superman and Marvel to send everyone else out. Danny opened his folder, laying out documents in front of Constantine, took out a pen from his jeans pocket. As he did so, John glanced furtively at the child. The traces of fatigue were more obvious upon closer inspection, the guy obviously had not slept for several days. His eyes were slightly reddened from exhaustion, he constantly rubbed them and clearly struggled with keeping them open. Danny stooped as soon as he sat down in the chair, his movements were a little sluggish.

"So, Danny, can you tell me where you're from?"

The boy looked up at Zatanna, who was standing to Constantin's right, clearly trying to hide her nervousness behind her arms folded across her chest.
Superman, the man in black, and the man in red and gold spread out around them in the hall, watching Danny closely and noticing his every move. It was unnerving, but he was ready to accept it - after all, he was the one who suddenly appeared out of thin air and said "give me John Constantine."

"From the Infinite Realms." He simply replied, deciding that the less details he gave them, the less they would have to worry about.

From the way the magic users present breathed heavily, they knew what "Infinite Realms" were. Wonderful.

"Look here, please, Mr. Constantine. These are the originals of your old contracts with your signature and the signature of the creditors. I brought them just in case, so that you can verify the authenticity of my words. These contracts are no longer valid, you can keep and do whatever you want with them. And this" Danny laid before the occultist a thick stamped paper with the seal of the King of Ghosts and green embossing around the edge "A new contract drawn up by me and lawyers from the castle of the Ghost King. The subject of the transaction remains the same, but the terms have been revised to be more beneficial for both parties. Because, I repeat, I absolutely do not need any of the parts of your body that you so generously scatter."

Constantine glanced at the contract, which was quite short and capacious.
The creditor's entry was simply "Phantom Daniel".

It was a rather strange deal. If only because immediately after the first paragraph "Subject of the contract" there was a paragraph about penalties for late payment. The form of the fine was public works for a period of fifty years according to earthly time.
How much?

He looked skeptically at Phantom. He sat with a blank expression on his face and generally looked like he would fall asleep right in this position if he was not touched for several minutes.

"Fifty years? Seriously? Do you think I'll live that long?"

Danny started, raising his cold blue eyes to John.

"Oh, of course, after the end of your mortal life, you will continue to work off your debt in the afterlife." He said and gave him a tired, polite smile. Constantin's eye twitched.

"And what kind of 'public works' will they be?" He made quotation marks with his fingers. "Nothing is listed here."

"Actually, I haven't decided yet." Phantom sighed and leaned on the table, propping his cheek on his fist. "Well, it definitely won’t be something that goes against human moral and ethical values, don’t worry. I haven't had time to think yet, I've been too busy sorting through all the complaints you've received. To give you credit, in just a few years you've done an amazing job of pissing off so many demons. I'm almost enthralled. You, Mr. Constantine, have been such a headache for the past three months."

John frowned. Has he just been insulted or praised?

"I don’t understand why you are so confused for him?" Zatanna spoke up, and she looked really surprised. Constantine looked at her indignantly. That was definitely an insult. "Wouldn't it have been easier to leave him to be torn to pieces by the demons?"

"Oh, you're right, right, miss..."

"Zatanna."

"Miss Zatanna." Danny leaned back and slumped in his chair, looking exhausted as hell, and Constantine even felt a little guilty. A little bit. It wasn't like he was asking this being to deal with his contracts.

"But you see, I read so many letters in which the Demons described in all burning detail how they would gut Mr. Constantine, that I felt sorry for him. I like people, you know, I love them. With rare exceptions, of course."

"I'm sure it's all about humanity." The man in black called out, and Danny couldn't help but jump in surprise.
He looked at the Dark Knight with a confused look, noticing that he had something in common with Frighty. Perhaps the reason for this is a gloomy aura, or a vague sense of aggressive defensiveness, or both. Anyway, Danny wasn't going to admit out loud that he was going to personally benefit from a voluntary-compulsory collaboration with a talented occultist.
He returned his gaze to Constantin.

"Mr. Constantine, do you need time to properly understand this contract? I can set aside seven days for you according to earthly time. If something does not suit you, I am ready to consider counter offers. I'm sure my lawyers will find a compromise. You can consult with your lawyer if you have one. Surely your, uh, organization has its own lawyers' headquarters?" He looked questioningly at the Dark Knight, who silently nodded.

"May I have a look at the contract?" Superman asked, approaching almost silently. Danny looked down at his feet and realized that the man was hovering a few inches above the floor. Oh, cool.

Constantine handed him the paper, and he carefully read the lines for a minute. Decided to play devil's advocate? However, this was the view of a knowledgeable person who often deals with such documents. Danny even wondered what Superman would find there. He knew it didn't look like a normal loan agreement, but he was the goddamn Ghost King and could afford to simplify this annoying thing to fit on one sheet.

"Do I understand correctly that for non-payment of the debt, Constantine should only work out fifty years of community service?"

Danny nodded, looking up at the hero and lacing his fingers over his stomach.

"What kind of community work? At least approximately."

The Phantom sighed, keeping himself from rolling his eyes.

"I told you I haven't decided yet. Actually, it doesn't have to start as soon as Mr. Constantine signs the treaty. Most likely, I will just ask him to do something for me from time to time." Danny suddenly thought about how Clockwork-like that sounded. My Ancient, has he started picking up that old man's bad habits? "It can be escort, consultation, search for other malicious evaders. Of course, within this universe."

"Is that all?" Constantin frowned. It sounded too good to be true. And he had the right to doubt, damn it.

"Well, yes? And what did you expect? I am not a demon, I am not interested in exploiting your soul or your body. Your first-born didn't give up on me either. Ancient, I still can't believe you promised someone your unborn child." He waved his hand in annoyance and grimaced, pulling one leg up and placing it on the edge of the seat. Now he really looked like a teenager. Still reeking of creepy death magic, but a teenager. John bit his tongue to avoid asking how old Phantom was. Appearances can be deceiving, whoever knows about it.

"How old are you?"

Oh shit, of course, Captain Marvel, very subtle.

Contrary to his fears, Phantom didn't get mad at the question. He considered.
He looked up at the ceiling as if there might be an answer to that question, and John honestly hoped the creature was just too old to remember its age.

"I know this shouldn't be a difficult question, but... I'm not sure? Maybe seventeen. Or closer to nineteen. My body must definitely be over fourteen, and in total I spent three years in time loops ..." He trailed off, making some obviously complex calculations in his mind. "Um, eighteen? Plus or minus one and a half."

He was greeted by silence and four pairs of bulging eyes.

"What." John said thoughtfully, looking blankly at a teenager of slightly indeterminate age who fidgeted awkwardly in his chair.

"Why is this at all? My age doesn't matter. I'm a ghost, time goes differently for me. I'm competent enough for the job, if that's what you're worried about. Let's just finish up and go about our business. I have a whole fucking bunch of them, by the way."

"Language." Superman muttered automatically, looking anxiously at Phantom.
Batman looked at him even more anxiously.
Danny wondered if it could be some weird scare tactic, because it fucking worked.

"Hmm. So, baby," John broke the awkward silence, pulling a battered automatic pen from an inside pocket of his raincoat. "I hardly have a choice. I see no reason to change anything, the conditions are already very favorable. Unless, of course, you're going to keep your word and don't force me to do something I don't like."

Danny pursed his lips indignantly, sitting up straight, pulling out the second copy of the contract and watching as Constantine put a wry signature in front of his last name.

"Don't worry, Mr. Constantine. In the next six months, we most likely will not even see each other." He took the sheet from Konstantin and also signed both copies. Something clicked in his soul. The contract has been officially registered.

Danny stood up, folding the paperwork into a folder and tucking it under her armpit.

"Is that all? No bloody prints? Can't we even shake hands?"

Danny looked at him like he was crazy, but in a serious tone said:
"If you want, we can seal the deal with a kiss."

Superman choked on air.

After enjoying Constantine's long face (there must be at least some compensation for all his suffering), Danny grinned widely, showing his big sharp teeth. By the way, he really liked his teeth.

"Joke."

Easily floating above the floor, Danny looked around at these strange people, in whose company, in fact, it was quite comfortable (surprisingly).

"Well, it was nice to meet you. Even those who didn't introduce themselves."

"Call me Captain Marvel." The red-and-gold big man saluted.

"Batman." The Dark Knight hadn't moved an inch since the beginning of the conversation, and his face was barely visible through his mask, but Danny could still feel his unwavering gaze on him. It's weird.

"I hope we don't see each other for a long time. See you, Mr Constantine. Perhaps I will find a way to warn you in advance of my next visit, but I promise nothing."

He waved his hand across the space and, with a last glance at the people, stepped through the curtain, holding the documents under his arm.

Danny really hopes he doesn't have to see them again. At least for half a year.
The Justice League is also hoping for something, but just in case, they arrange an emergency briefing and create a new dossier marked "highest degree of danger", "do not provoke" and "immediately call Constantine".

Chapter Text

Officially six days and fifteen hours without sleep, but who counts.
He also did not eat anything for two days, surviving on only ectoplasmic coffee, which was brewed by his beautiful ectoplasmic coffee machine, which was right in his office. It seems that Danny was going to die (for the second time) from overwork and get a Darwin award for it. On his grave they will write "this guy did not know how to rest." Danny suspected that his obsession might be indirectly to blame. Since there was no one to fight yet, the obsession could take for a threat the tons of papers that occupied his office. The threat must be eliminated immediately. Danny did it, damn him. (Ha ha, he probably already).

Once Frostbite tried to force him to sleep. Danny tossed and turned for several hours, sighed, whined and asked him to let him work a little more. In the end, the giant could not stand it. But he continued to come once a day and bring food. (The last two trays of food were forgotten on the table by the door, the only space in the room not occupied by papers.)

Ectoplasm leaks were on the agenda. They took place everywhere, in many worlds connected with the Zone. It's really not good. Such ectoplasm is toxic, it can pollute the environment. Among other things, these are places directly connected to the Zone, which means that someone with the necessary skills could get through the channel and get inside. Or vice versa. Something could get out of the Zone. Of course, normal ghosts preferred to use natural portals rather than sewers. But someone who wanted to escape Danny's eyes - the King's eyes - could take advantage of this loophole. Because Danny was closely watching all the portals with his inner eye, but for some reason these drains were hidden from him. This was the first and most important problem in their search. Always had to act randomly. He even wanted to put up a reward for information on the location of the leaks, but refused, because instead he could just hang a huge banner over his palace "feel free to use the sewers, the King will not notice you there." It infuriated him. Danny thought about bringing Konstantin into the case so that he would find the centers of the leak at least in his world. Against the background of the general scale of disasters, this was very little help, but still help.

He adjusted his half-glasses on his nose and once again read the dry lines of the report of one of the Frity knights, who completed the study of the next sector of the Zone and found nothing. A few days ago, he noticed that his near vision began to deteriorate from exertion. Who would have thought that a ghost's eyesight could get worse from fatigue (who would have thought that a ghost could get tired at all). Nothing serious, as Frostbite assured, it should pass after a quality rest, but Danny needed to work right now, so the already exhausted giant simply handed him these glasses and kicked Danny out of Far Frozen.
Thirty-six more of the same reports lay before him. And behind them were twelve quarterly reports from the demonic part of the Realms.
And Danny so wanted to take a nap. And eat. He definitely needs to take a little break.
And then Danny felt something grabbing at his core, and an ornate summoning circle flashed red on the floor.

Oh shit.

Oh my Ancient.

Is this a real summons? Someone summoned him like some kind of demon? Danny never thought that the King of Ghosts could even be summoned. But it happened, and this is his first summons in his life, so he was really excited.
Danny twitched, trying to get out of the flaming red tunnel, along which he was being rapidly pulled somewhere down. Useless. The walls of the tunnel were searingly hot, and where he touched them, the skin ached as from burns.
He felt his body change shape against his will, taking the same form. Shit. Danny didn't know much about summoning, but he could assume that since he - the damn King of Ghosts - couldn't resist and couldn't even control his form, that was too bad. Whoever the summoners are, you have to give them credit.
Giving up attempts to escape from the tunnel, he prepared for the meeting with doom. Wherever he was drawn, he felt that it was already close. These guys better be prepared for what they've summoned.

***

They screwed up a lot. It was imprudent of them not to take the Cult of the Lord of the Dead seriously. And then the cultists killed nine people and successfully built a giant calling circle. And here they are, in a huge natural cave somewhere in the Grand Canyon area. After activation, the circle began to generate its own protective field, which so far no one could break through. The magic that the cultists drew from somewhere was extremely powerful.
Constantin once again peered into the contour of the circle, the magic seething around him slightly intoxicated him. The writing was unfamiliar to him, and the language in which the head cultist howled seemed completely unintended for human vocal cords. Something monstrous followed the call of the call, and they didn't know how to stop it. John was sure that at any moment Batman would announce the general meeting of the League.

Superman's heat beam slammed into the shield again, gliding helplessly across the completely unharmed surface. A transparent green dome, similar to the power of a Green Lantern but more poisonous in color, cast an ominous shadow over the heroes.
The head cultist paused solemnly.
They were waiting. In any case, Konstantin was sure that the shield would break on its own when the summoning ended, and they would at least try to fight the summoned creature. This will be more productive than hitting a completely invulnerable wall (John pushed away the idea that if the shield was powered by the magic of the summoned creature, then they had a damned low chance of even scratching the monster).

An afterimage of something huge began to appear in the air above the center of the circle. It was not clearly visible, but the heroes clearly distinguished a long, absolutely black serpentine body. It absorbed the ambient light, and it became darker under the green dome. And more closely, given the size of the creature. Even though the heroes kept seventy feet from the shield's edge just in case, the creature's head still towered over them overwhelmingly.

"King of Ghosts!" the cultists began whispering reverently, falling to their knees.
John went cold. If they were really able to summon the Ghost King...

The silhouette cleared up and the upper body was visible. The torso was completely human, smooth and slender. Two long white hands with thin curved claws on musical fingers. On a graceful neck rested a head with an emotionless face, the eyes on which were black bottomless pits. The creature's head slowly turned, and a mane of short, snow-white hair swayed gently as it moved. Two curved black horns crowned this head; a shimmering crown rested on them. The tips of the horns almost scraped against the high ceiling of the cave.

(Suddenly, with horror, Constantin thought that, if desired, the creature could easily overturn the entire cave and half of the Grand Canyon at the same time on them)

The temperature dropped to zero. Constantin, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful monstrous spectacle, frantically breathed in the cold air, feeling it burn his nostrils and throat from the inside.
He suddenly realized that everyone around him was quiet. Neither the heroes nor the cultists have made a sound since the creature's appearance.
The green shield fell, the interference in the vision disappeared, the massive body became clear and distinct.
The King of Ghosts was completely here.

(Some white sheets swirled in the air, picked up by a gust of ghostly wind)

The monster blinked slowly, and two green stars appeared in the depths of the inky emptiness of its eye sockets. They moved slowly in their blackness, looking at every person present. It seemed to John that they were looking at him for an eternity, although only a couple of seconds had passed. He wanted to hide from that gaze. His back was covered with a cold sweat, but he could not look away.

Keeping his eyes on Batman, the King took a deep breath. The air around his face instantly crystallized, turning into a cloud of sparkling frost, and for a moment it seemed that his white skin was shining, as if sprinkled with diamond chips.
It was almost beautiful.

The king stirred, breaking the spell. The black flexible tail moved lazily, tiny dots of stars and chains of constellations flashed inside it with each movement. God, how big was he? Three hundred feet long? Or more?
The crowned head drooped smoothly towards the lead cultist. One of his faces was the size of a whole person.

"My King…" the cultist whispered in a trembling voice, and it was not clear whether he was shivering from cold or from terror. Perhaps from everything together.

The previously insensible face of the King suddenly twisted in disgust, his mouth bared, revealing terrible teeth. He swiftly rose back up, the snake body angrily writhing, curling up into rings and waves, the green stars of the eyes glared at the frozen heroes.

H̵̥̞̜͇͇̙̘̞̳͙̲͉͓̜͢ǫ̵͈͈̮̘͕̳̩̯̘w̶̡͚̙͈̱̱̲̙͍͚͙̱̞̲ l̷̨̬̣̙̙̘͙͚̖͔͍o̵̢̖̞̝̬̜͙̙̰͚̬͍ͅn҉̡̦̠͎̣̟̝̱̜̙̞̥̬̤g̷̢͈̞̞̭̥͙̝̲ w̴͖̥͎͈͔̭̝̩̱̲͕̪̥͢i̵̧͙͚̙̯̦̫̫̥̦͔l̷̢̯͕͙̗̪͔̞̝̪͙̩̠͕͉ͅͅl̶̯͕͎͚͎̠̞͈̥̥̲͍̩͎̘̣͜ y̶̞̯͕̩̯̬̬̲̟͢ǫ̸̦͔̳̦͕̲̠̫͓̪͓̝u̶͖͙͙̳̩͔̪̭͢ s҈̜̞̤͍̞͍̣̦̭̣͍͉͍̠͜t҉͔̖̰͉̜̬͍͖̝̥̘͜a̴͉̜͖̳̱̣̱̙̜͎͙̦͍͢ͅn҈͎̳̞͓̮̬͎̗̦̱̤̥̞͢d̴̨̟͍̳̤̪̯͙̣?̵̧͉͕̤̫̪̮̞͙͓̰̥

A multi-voiced echo rumbled, interspersed with the grinding of ice and radio interference.
The king was talking to them, Constantine suddenly realized, looking around at the other members of the League.

Ģ̸̤͓̳̜̰͍̱͎̠͈͙e҈͙̖͍̤̜͚͔̪̥̤̞͢t҈͍̤͉͚̭̜̳͎̯͢ i̷̲͕̲͇̣̤̗͇͍̭̭͔̤̯͢t̸̨͎̩̬̤̗͇̣̟̫̘͖ o̶̧͎͙͈̭͈̭̪ͅu҉̨̞̥̭̱͍̦̣͕t҉̨͚̮̭̖͎̠̤̭̟̥̙ͅ ǫ̸̜̜̱̭̬͈͙̫͍̬̯͎f҈̡̗͙͈̟̮̘̜̳̱̦̝͍̪ͅͅ m̸̧̦̪̭̙̬̥̤͙͚̜͙̠̥̱y̶̢͎͕̲͓̞͔͎͙͍̤̘̗͈͓ s҈̳̥̙̲̭̞̟̖͖̠̯̖̩͖͈͓͜i҈̡͔͙̖͕̳͕̭̪ģ̵̘̖̗̖̘̯̘͈͖̣̱̖̠̝̫ḩ̴̦͔͉̜̤̖̥͚̮̟̳̮͓̭͚̭t̵̢̞͚͙̞͉̝̪̳͕͇̫̟̞̝͖

What?
Whatt??

Marvel obeyed first. He instantly knocked out the nearby cultists while constantly glancing at the King of Ghosts. He froze in the center of the calling circle, his white arms crossed over his black chest. His form trembled slightly from suppressed anger, but the green pupils-stars sadly looked at the corpses of the victims, spread out below him along the perimeter of the small circle. The blood released from them accumulated in a small depression in the center, forming an even small lake, whose surface had already begun to be covered with bloody ice.
The League members hurriedly cleared out the screaming cultists.

"Why??!" Shouted their head, still shaking near the King (no one touched him, because they were afraid to come close to the monster). He looked in panic at the summoned monster, then at the superheroes pulling his people away. "You were supposed to do our will!! We brought you here!"

Constantine, Batman, and Green Lantern, who had not taken part in the "catch the fleeing cultist" game, watched with tense anticipation as the King's green pupils looked back at the summoning leader yelling below. In the next second, Hal screamed, creating a shield at the same time as Konstantin, because a few feet away a huge white hand crashed into the floor of the cavern, splattering small stones with the force of the impact. It wasn't an attack – the King of Ghosts simply planted his hands on the ground, leaning so low that the cultist's clothes were instantly covered in frost from his breath.
Batman lifted his head, examining the monstrous hand dangerously close to him. The hand was like a snow-white column carved from cold marble. He was surprised to see dark green veins peeking through the thin, smooth skin. The arrangement of the veins was identical to human anatomy.

Very slowly, as if deliberately stretching out the pleasure, the monster opened its mouth wide, and it became clear that its teeth were not only large and sharp, but also had a lot of them. Star-eyes watched coldly as the cultist's face contorted in horror. Faster than anyone could have done anything, the mouth slammed shut with a sickening crunch as teeth closed in the middle of the man. The lower half of the body did not have time to fall, it was caught by a protruding long green tongue and thrust into the black throat. Vivid trickles of blood ran down the virgin white skin of his chin.

D҉̡̰̳͎͚̝̳̩͕̪͎͓͙̳ͅị̶͕͚̙͍̝̰̖̙̪͢ṣ̷̪͔̜̳̰͇̠͚̖̱̞͖̦͢g̵̡̤͎̜̬͓̭̠̯̟͍̥͔̬̖u҉̡̖̲͉͕͚̟̙͎̗͖̱̦̦̫̖s҈̧̬͙̰͎̬̗̬ͅṭ̷̨͇̗̰̲͕̘͕ͅi̷̢̫̜͈̳͓̜͉͔̰n̷̯͎̦͙̠̱̣̰͢ģ̸̯͙̤̣̰͕̣̖͈̩.̵̧̲̞͍͙̙̳̮̞͍͙̙̥̰̲

Constantine watched in fascination as the King's hair gently swayed in the non-existent wind.
Batman watched with apprehension as the black tail swung slowly and menacingly low over their heads.
The King's head slowly turned towards them, and John could have sworn that Hal had a hard time suppressing a squeal. The king approached, wiping the blood from his chin with one hand. It got much colder.
For a minute they looked at each other in silence. Constantine saw how tense all his teammates were, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Marvel and Big Blue, frozen out of the King's line of sight and ready to instantly attack.

T҉̬̠̲͙͉̰͕͖̥͇̫̝͜ḫ̶̢̦͖̣̳̱͇̩̝̯̱̠̘̗̞̰i̵̡̟̖̳̦̩̤͕̱̦͓̠̖s̷̡̝̜̙̰̞̩̝̫̦̯ i҉̨̳͖͖̗̲͕͎͈̦̝̤ș̴̩̘̭̳̭͉͙̮̯̱̯̱̪͕͜ͅ n̵̢̟̟͙̳͎͕̪̝̠̘̥o҈̘̠̗͖̘͚̪͎͕͔͖͢ͅt҈̣͓̱̥̮͙̦̣̯̙͙̥͎̠̬̲͜ h̶͍̘͍̳̦͇̝͚̘̩͜ͅo̸̧̪̣̙̫͔̩̮̗̦̦̟̞̲̥̯ͅw̶͇̬͎͔̣͚̪̣̬͍͚̜̪̱̗͢ Į̷̳̙͓̜̩͚͉̲ͅ e҉̜̦̤̬͇̟͉͕̫͖̬͓̯͜ͅͅn̴̡̜̥͇̰̤͙̰͎͍͙̬̥̗ͅv̷̢͖͓͔̲̬̲̮̬ͅi҉̣̜̣̱̝̫̜̝̥̩͕͈̮̞̳͉͢ş̵͙̞̦͕̙͕̩ͅi̸̯͙̠͖͙̭̱̣̘̞͢o̸̧͕̠̭͚̲̣̞̜̞͚̬͚̟͍ͅn҈̢͇͓͔̦̥̮̞͔̟̣̯̱̱̬͎̙e҈̡̝̣̖̰̭̜͕̭̠̮̤̣͍̯͕ͅd̸̢͎̝̣͉̙̮̦̰̰̳ͅ o҈̡̪̠̮̤̭̭̣̣u҉̢͈̪̮͓̱̥͖̱͓̠̟̦̲ͅr̸͖͖̞͈̬͍͎̖̣̱͍͢ n̶̡͉̯͔̠̝̘̣̗̳̝͖̤͍͕͖̘e̴͉͚̘͈̝̤̩͍͉͉̦͓̫͉͢x̴̧̪̳̠͚͓̖̯̱̙t̴̡͈͈̳̗̖̫̮͙ m̶̨̞̖̳̭̬̦͈̯̠͖̘̤ę̷̲̠͕͓͔̘̣͕̗̭͇̭̩ͅe҉̡̭͙̗̖͎͉̫̲ͅt҈̪̳̪͉̭̥̖̖̘̳̠̠̲͜į̸̞̥̱̱̦̳̞͍͇̭̥̠͎͖n̵̢̰͎͇̱̲͉̣͇͕̳̦̠̬̝̬ͅg̷͕̝̯̫̫͈̗͈͎̣͢.҉̨̗̤̪͇̞̠̩̦̯͓̩ͅ

It took him a moment to grasp the meaning of the rumbling words.
(All he could think of was a thick green tongue flickering between bloody teeth)

"Have we met before?"

Thank you, God, for making Batman so focused and reasonable even in the face of an all-consuming nightmare.

The King of Ghosts chuckled.
Suddenly, his body began to shrink. It was drawn into itself, as if into a black hole, brightened, acquiring a completely humanoid form. The otherworldly cold was gone. Now three feet above the ground hovered not a Lovecraftian monster, but a green-eyed youth with white hair, white clothes, pale greenish skin and half-glasses on his nose.
A flash of light washed over the figure, turning the white to black and the green to blue.

In front of them was Daniel Phantom.

He shivered chillily, tucking his legs in the air and wrapping his arms around himself, looking at the superheroes with a nervous smile.

"Hello again."

"DANNY?!"

Captain Marvel's scream boomed through the deafening silence beneath the cavern's vaults.

"Kid, you didn’t say you were the fucking King of Ghosts..." Constantine thought his own voice was an octave (or two) higher.
Phantom shrugged.

"Then it didn't matter."

"Didn't matter?"

"Yes. It was completely irrelevant to our lender-borrower relationship, Mr. Constantine."

With these words, Phantom turned around and swam back to the circle. Batman and John followed him at some distance.

Reaching the inner circle, the ghost gently knelt beside the corpses. He leaned towards one of them, so low that his lips almost touched the blond hair of an unfortunate girl with a slit throat. He whispered something very softly to her, and it seemed so personal that the heroes watching it were tempted to turn away and give them some privacy. Danny repeated this procedure with each of the nine victims. When this strange and sad ritual came to an end, the boy's knees and palms were completely covered in someone else's blood.

"What was it?" John asked in a low voice as Batman handed Danny a pack of tissues.

"These people died a terrible death. As the lord of the afterlife, I invited them to join the host of ghosts in my Realm. It's the only thing I can do for them."

Phantom lifted its head with a sad smile, and the two men suddenly realized how broken and emaciated the child was. Now, as he stood on the ground—rather than hovering over it—shouldered slumped, trying to wipe the blood off his hands with paper handkerchiefs, his reading glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose (is he farsighted?) and his hair disheveled. Damn, how old is he? Eighteen plus or minus one and a half? Plus or minus, it obviously still wasn't enough to be considered an adult and deal with what was going on in his life. And although neither Constantine nor Batman knew a damn thing about his life, what they saw now was enough for them.

"Listen, kid…" John stepped towards him when there was a sudden rustle. All three looked down at Constantine's leg. Under the sole of his shoe was some kind of sheet covered with absolutely inhuman handwriting.

Danny let out a frustrated groan, pushing Constantine away and with two fingers squeamishly picking up a sheet with a fairly clear print of a size forty-one sole.

"Those stupid stinking pieces of shit…" Phantom growled through his teeth, looking for other papers lying on the floor.

"Language!" Superman yelled from the other side of the cave.

Danny glared at him with murderous eyes, hurriedly picking up sheets scattered here and there. God, he looked really upset.
Batman and Lantern began to help him, and the three of them managed in a couple of minutes.

"What is it?" Hal asked, gently dusting off what he had collected.
Danny took the papers from him, taking in the scale of the disaster with a critical eye.

"The work that I should now sit and calmly do. Apparently, during teleportation, some surrounding objects were hooked."

He rubbed the stain with his finger, which had obviously managed to soak deep into the thick porous paper, and now one could not even hope to get rid of it.

"Shit."

Clark looked at him disapprovingly again, this time he said nothing.
Danny took off his glasses and put them in the breast pocket of his loose shirt. He rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. He froze for a moment, pressing his fingers over his eyes.

"Was that your first summon?" Batman asked as the silence began to drag on.

"Yeah." Danny rose into the air again, crossing his legs and leaning back as if he were on the back of a sofa. "Sucks experience."

They were approached by Clark and Diana, who had finished directing the arrest of the cultists. It was the Amazon's first encounter with Phantom, but even though he had been a frightening otherworldly creature ten minutes earlier, she didn't seem overly excited.

"Daniel, right? I am Wonder Woman." She began in a very friendly way, holding out her hand for a handshake with a soft smile.

"Just Danny. Nice to meet you, I guess."

"And I'm a Green Lantern, by the way." Hal remembered. He was the last person standing here who had not yet introduced himself as Danny.
Danny squinted at the heroes.

"Is there some kind of trick in your world about super obvious aliases?" he asked, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs.
Hal snorted, Clark grinned irritably.

"You won’t believe it, but in most cases they don’t invent them themselves." Constantine chuckled, putting a cigarette in his mouth.

"Oh, I'm familiar with that."

"So, Danny, are you the new ruler of the Infinite Realms?" Diana asked openly, putting her hands on her hips. "You are very young. Did you take the throne by right of conquest?"

Danny squinted at her before carefully saying yes.

"I sent the previous king to his eternal rest a couple of years ago." he added, looking down at the documents wedged between his stomach and thighs. "I'm sure it was something like 'The king is dead, long live the king'. Still, that bastard didn't know how to do his job. He was very problematic. Even now it gives me problems right out of the coffin. And by the way about this. Who were these guys? Where did they get this summoning ritual? The Ghost King, you know, shouldn't be so easy to summon. I'm lucky that they don't know a damn thing about ghostly language and, apart from coercion, have not added any restraining or, oh ancients, subjugating effects to the circle."

"Coercion? Were you brought here without your will?"

Danny looked at Lantern like he was stupid.

"Of course! Dude, I've been on a workaholic binge for a week now, I'm completely overwhelmed at work. Do you think I would drop everything at will and come here at the first call?" He rubbed his neck in annoyance as he rose a little higher in the air and looked around the summoning circle. "I tried to resist, but it was useless. And it hurts."

Danny did not see how the adults below frowned at these words. He focused on the circle, carefully analyzing its outline and the symbols it had inserted. It was some very ancient dialect, perhaps from the reign of one of his predecessors. Danny could not decipher everything written, but he caught the general essence. In fact, just forced teleportation with reference to the title, and not to a personal name. The catalyst was the suffering of the brutally murdered victims, and the energy for the call was drawn from Danny himself. Not so much, not even one hundredth of his strength.

"They called themselves the Cult of the Lord of the Dead." A Green Lantern appeared behind him, gently placing his hands on Denny's shoulders and forcing him back closer to the ground. "We detected their activity about a month ago, but until today they did not cause much concern."

Batman issued a meaningful "Hm" at this.

"We're going to take them to jail and interrogate them."

"Which is going to be a little more difficult because you ate their leader." Marvel added, wincing at the eerie memory.

"I didn't just eat it. I accompanied him to the darkest depths of Tartarus." There was no sign of remorse on Danny's face.

He sighed again, once more furiously rubbing his eyes.

"I have to go."

Phantom glanced around at the superheroes around him, and his gaze landed on Constantine again.

"But since I'm here anyway... Mr. Constantine, I think I have a job for you. This is your chance to start your community service today."

John nodded in interest, encouraging the child to continue. He leaned back, placing his papers in his lap and shuffling through them, looking for something specific. It seems that when he found it, he skimmed through the writing, soundlessly moving his lips.

"I have some problem with the ectoplasm leak, and I need help finding the source of this leak. There are several in your world, and I would..."

"Wait a second, kid, what is ectoplasm?"

Danny blinked, caught off guard by the question. What is ectoplasm, by the way? It was as strange to him as asking what water was. But then he mentally slapped his forehead.
He raised his hand and formed a small glowing ball of ectoplasm in his palm.

"This is it. What ghosts are made of and absolutely everything in the Infinite Realms. Even me. But it can be very harmful to living beings, especially that corrupted ectoplasm that pours out through random holes between worlds. It's damn toxic, it has the consistency of water, it's odorless. I need to find these leaks and shut them down because it could be really dangerous for everyone."
The heroes were gloomy silent, looking at the iridescent ball in their hand.

"Judging by your faces, you know something about it."

"And this corrupted ectoplasm does not happen to have the ability to resurrect and heal the terminally ill?"

Danny blinked in surprise.

"Um, maybe? But it is damn dangerous, and most likely has a bunch of negative side effects. Madness, aggression, depression... Wait a minute." He frowned. "You've definitely experienced this. When?"

The superheroes looked at each other in quick silent dialogue.

"We know this as the Lazarus Pit. And yes, we have encountered them, more than once." Batman finally said, turning on his holographic projector on his arm and showing a photo of one of the old Pits.
Danny swam closer, rubbing his chin and looking at the image.

"Yes, it definitely looks like a pool of corrupted ectoplasm. Where is it?"

"In the Himalayas. It is destroyed, like other Pits known to us."

Danny's eyebrows rose in surprise as Bruce said this.

"Destroyed? Hm, that... that definitely sounds great, but..." He suddenly broke off, yawning widely and hastily covering his mouth with his hand. "Right now, I can’t do it. Once you've dealt with it, it will be easier. Constantine, can you prepare a list with the coordinates of all known, uh, Pits? Even if you say they are destroyed, I have to check. If you find new ones, list them too, and it's best not to get too close to them unnecessarily. I'll come... I don't know, maybe in a month? That is about two weeks according to your time."

"OK, baby. And, you know what?"

Slightly pulling away from the group of heroes to open the portal, Danny turned inquiringly to Constantin, who was chewing thoughtfully on a cigarette.

"Get some sleep, please. You look terrible."

Danny grunted, slashed the space with a wave of his hand and entered the rift that appeared.

Chapter Text

Cult activity of all kinds had increased alarmingly in recent months, and Bruce couldn't shake the thought that it had something to do with Danny. The first suspicion was that the ill-fated Cult of the Lord of the Dead, which they had stopped five weeks ago, first made itself known the day after the Phantom appeared at the Watchtower.
He discussed this with the Justice League Dark, and fortunately, they had their suspicions about the reasons for what was happening. Unfortunately, it didn't make much of a difference.
Zatanna and Constantine believed that by coming to their world on his own, Danny had somehow announced his presence and that the King of Ghosts was once again available for summoning. Danny's predecessor was imprisoned for several millennia, and if you believe the rumors that he is an absolutely crazy tyrant, Bruce is very glad that no one could summoned him. The bad thing was that it seemed to be much easier to do with the new king.
In those five weeks, the League stopped two more major cults. One of them was dangerously close to summoning the King, but they still didn't make it in time.
Constantine told how Danny complained to him that he felt all these attempts to summon (a couple of weeks ago, Danny came to examine the remains of the Lazarus Pits with John). Bruce didn't want to imagine what it was like to be forcibly teleported somewhere. At the very least, it's annoying.

The other bad news was that apart from everything else, the Satanists of Gotham also raised their heads. It seems that they tried to repeat the experience of their more advanced colleagues, but so far none of them were even a little close. This was already indicated by the fact that just one (maximum two) vigilantes was enough to disrupt the ritual. The kids sent him photos of the summoning circles and the environment, and to Bruce's relief, none of it looked like what the cult of the Lord of the Dead had done in the Grand Canyon. This means that there was no communication between the cults and each of them acted independently. This also indicated that the information about the ritual of summoning the King of Ghosts was somewhere where not everyone could get, or even transmitted exclusively by word of mouth. Bruce did not know how to verbally convey the instructions for drawing the calling circle, however, this could already be some kind of telepathic suggestion.
One way or another, problems have only increased in Gotham. And that night was especially intense.
Batman was just finishing handing over to the police bound and beaten men in hoodies who had slaughtered two dogs and taken a schoolgirl hostage for their own fun when his communicator clicked and Tim's excited voice rang out.

"Reinforcements needed at Jefferson Corner, landmark downhill to abandoned subway station."

"What's the matter, Red Robin?" Bruce immediately moved towards the Batmobile. Tim and Damian now had to keep an eye out for yet another suspicious group of people who looked like cultists.

"They began to gather, more than forty people. Like cultists. All armed, knives and at least seventeen pistols, two machine guns."

"Are you sure it's not one of the gangs?" Dick asked. Judging by the noise in the background of his voice, he was now moving somewhere.

"Unless they decided to dress up in robes and have a candlelit party."

There was a rustle and muffled curses.

"What's the matter?"

"They've driven the van right up to the entrance, bringing in something bigger. Can't see from my position."

"Looks like body bags. More than five." Damian's voice resounded as he shifted his position.

"Awaiting instructions."

"Tt."

If these are sacrifices, like the cult of the Lord of the Dead? Coincidence, or do these people know the correct ritual? Aside from the unhealthy desire to summon the King of Ghosts, were these cults connected in some way? Or did they know the details of the ritual from somewhere? They were wrong, and the cults were in contact with each other? Because the League, of course, did not expand on the details of that case. Bruce didn't want the Canyon incident to happen right under his city.

"Spoiler, Nightwing, move to Red Robin's position when ready."

"Already."

"Three minutes."

"It's like the incident at the Grand Canyon. We may need support. Red Robin, contact Superboy. I'm wearing Superman and Constantine."

Several surprised exclamations and sighs were heard over the link. Batman volunteers to call for help? Everything must be taken very seriously.
Disconnecting from the team, he dialed Clark's number.

"Bruce? What's the matter?" The slightly agitated voice of the Kryptonian was heard after two beeps.

"Superman, I need support. Suspicion of a repeat of the Canyon incident. If I ask you to find and bring Constantine, how soon can you arrive at these coordinates?"

At the other end of the line, Kent immediately braced himself, catching the official tone of his colleague's voice. He was silent for a couple of seconds, looking at the sent coordinates.

“Ten or fifteen minutes if John answers me. But, you know, he's been missing for two days, again.

Bruce grimaced in displeasure. Yes, there has been no connection with Konstantin for a couple of days, which is not particularly surprising - the Briton often did this.

"If not him, then find Zatanna. I need one of the magicians, no options."

"I'm moving out."

Batman turned off the engine in one of the alleys nearby so as not to attract attention. With the help of a boarding gun, he landed on the roof to the waiting Tim and Damian at the same time as Dick landed on the other side.
They crouched behind the curb of the roof. The people downstairs were already finishing up, driving the cars away from the entrance and disappearing into the dark interior of the abandoned underground metro station. You could see them lighting their way with flashlights.

"Oracle, what is known about this station?"

The comm clicked, confirming that Barbara had heard him and was looking for information.

"Built in the eighties, two hundred and thirty feet deep. Open platform, central hall six hundred and thirty feet long, thirty feet high. Closed due to escalator explosion in 2007, never restored."

"Large space." Bruce muttered as he pulled out his binoculars and scanned the street around the station. All the cultists had already fled inside, but sentries might have remained outside.

"Does it matter?"

"If they can summon the Ghost King, they will need a lot of space. He is big."

"How big?" Stephanie crouched gracefully on the roof, tugging at her cloak.

"The serpentine body was approximately three hundred to three hundred and fifty feet long, difficult to pinpoint."

Dick whistled.

"He can barely fit in there if they really call him."

"Hm."

This is true. As the King of Ghosts, Danny was, to put it bluntly, huge. It is possible that if he suddenly hits the ceiling, the station and all the ground above it may collapse. It will be a disaster - there are many residential buildings around.

"Therefore, we must prevent the call. If the station collapses, it will be a nightmare." Tim repeated his thoughts. "Besides, if I was the Ghost King, I would be extremely unhappy if I was pulled somewhere without warning a second time. Will he get angry? Is it safe to say that he will continue to be so friendly?"

Bruce was silent. So far, Danny has been exceptionally friendly, but Tim is right - that didn't mean he couldn't lose his temper. He was a powerful being with an immeasurable amount of power. Bruce would at all costs try to avoid a situation that could cause negative emotions in Danny.

"Superboy status?"

"He'll be here in about seven minutes."

Batman switched to Clark.

"Superman status."

"Constantine is still unavailable. Zatanna replied that she would arrive on her own within fifteen minutes. My estimated arrival time is ten minutes."

"Good. We're going down."

And since the cultists had left no guards outside, the bats and birds quietly slipped inside the station.

***

With a long, exhausted groan, Danny slumped his face into the pillows. His bed in the King's palace was just huge and he didn't feel too comfortable in it (surprisingly, sometimes sleeping in the shrimp position at the desk was more comfortable than here), but now it didn't matter. It was a long-awaited day off and he was going to do so much - sleep, sleep, and more sleep and let's not forget to sleep. Of course, he arranged this day off for himself not because a couple of hours ago, an angry Jaz suddenly appeared on the threshold of his office, prescribed him a prophylactic bream and dragged him to bed by the collar. It didn't help that she knew from somewhere about his recent cold. Seriously, it was just a cough and a couple days of fever. Danny suspected that one of his advisors had betrayed him for his sister.

Danny rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms and legs around one of the long, voluminous pillows, and looked at his sister, who was standing in the doorway. How did she even end up in the castle? He suspected that Frostbit or Clockwork were to blame. Or both of them.
The boy's eyes were already drooping, and he narrowed his eyes so as not to lose sight of Jaz's blurry silhouette. She said she would be here for a minimum of ten hours, during which Danny was not allowed to get out of bed. It sounded ominous.

The mattress sagged under the weight on it, and Danny blinked. He must have passed out for a minute, because from the doorway, Jazmin suddenly moved to the edge of his bed.

"You're going to kill yourself, Danny." Her hand was in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Danny groaned in bliss, rolling his eyes.

"What is dead may never die… " he muttered, dissolving into the pleasant touch.

Jazz chuckled, her blue eyes staring with reproach and tenderness at the same time.

"Watch less Game of Thrones."

"But you understood the reference, didn’t you? So you was watching too… Oooh" He whined as Jazz pressed her fingers against the base of his skull.

"Have a rest. I'm seriously not leaving here until you get a good night's sleep."

She pulled away and Danny whimpered as her hand disappeared from his hair.

"Can you do that again?" He widened his eyes and looked at her pleadingly, knowing Jazz couldn't always fight it. "I'm sure I'll fall asleep much faster if you keep going."

Danny knew he'd pass out in about five minutes anyway, but that didn't mean he couldn't get a little high beforehand.
After looking at him for a few seconds with a blank face, Jasmine gave up.

"Okay."

She turned around and sat up comfortably, throwing one leg up on the bed. Her fingers again began to massage his head, smoothly moving from the temple to the back of the head.
Danny's eyes closed. He took a slow, deep breath, feeling himself drifting off to sleep. The obsessive desire to go and fill out a couple of documents still itched somewhere near his core, but now it was muted as much as possible by the presence of his older sister.
Gradually, his body completely relaxed. He barely felt Jazz rise, thinking he was already asleep. He didn't like her stopping the massage, but he was already too close to completely unconscious to resent.

A hook grabbed at his core and pulled. Danny's eyes widened, sitting up abruptly and clumsily, clutching at his chest.

Fucking.

Jazz peeped out of the hallway and frowned uncomfortably.

"Danny, what’s the… What the hell is this?!"

Right on the bed, burning through the sheets, the summoning circle glowed red.

"Don't come!" He raised his hand, forcing his sister to stop. It wasn't enough to drag her down.

Hook tugged at his core once more roughly, and Danny gasped, doubled over in sharp pain, stifling a cough in his throat.
The circle glowed brighter and brighter.

"What's happening? Danny, talk to me." she asked in a demanding but slightly trembling voice as she circled the glowing symbols and tried to ignore the burning stink of the sheets or the tightness of her brother's eyes, clutching his T-shirt over his chest. Where she knew his ghostly heart was.

"Everything is fine." he squeezed out through clenched teeth. "Just…don’t come near. Everything will be fine with me. I'll probably disappear for a few..."

He didn't have time to finish when the circle flashed blindingly, causing her to cover her eyes with her hand and recoil. In the next moment, there was no brother, no circle. Only an empty bed with burnt linen and the smell of burning and blood.

Danny stifled a scream as he accidentally pressed himself against the burning wall of the tunnel. This time it was hot, much hotter. He shrank, trying to become as small as possible so as not to touch anything. Which was difficult because his body began to stretch and grow in size again. He could already feel the burns on his back and arms. Not fatal, but definitely not good for his ice core. The crown of ice that formed above his head cooled his face a little. Fucking cultists, where did they get this ritual from?
Fortunately, he had a vague sense that this was the same world as last time. Anxious, of course, but at least he will see familiar faces (or masks).

One last painful pull, and Danny has to crouch down hard because there's so damn little room. The hook vanished, leaving a aching void in its wake. Leaning against the cold, rough ceiling with his back itching from burns, and with one hand on the smooth marble floor (the other hand rubbed his chest near the core with soothing movements), he looked around. It looks like... a subway station? Pretty big station, but not big enough for him. This was the first time Danny had problems with the size of this body. Danny basically had problems with his size for the first time, for that matter. Unless, of course, we do not count the emerging complexes about his height, because, apparently, he did not follow his father.

He saw the smoldering lines of the recruiting circle below him, and the men in robes hurriedly running away from his hand. So small, each the size of his finger. Danny had the thought of accidentally crushing someone with his palm. Or eat again. Oh no, what terrible thoughts. Shame on you, Danny.
Well, at least he's not going to eat anyone. He then picked the last cultist out of his teeth for another week.
There was movement outside the circle, and Danny squinted at the small, fighting figures. Are these heroes? He hadn't seen them before. Oh no, that's Batman. Danny breathed a sigh of relief, forcing himself to shrink until he could straighten his back. He had to stop hovering and drop to the floor, now the tallest cultists were somewhere up to his thigh.

And then Danny noticed it.
Victims.

Nine stiff corpses right next to him. The terrible smell of fear and despair reached his nose, causing his stomach to twist painfully.
Danny felt his teeth creak from the tension in his clenched jaw.
It seems he has changed his mind. He will definitely eat someone.

***

There were far more than forty cultists. As the vigilantes made their way to the escalators through the station lobby, Bruce felt a familiar sense of presence. Heck. They were late. He hooked on the hook and flew down the sloping tunnel above the escalators, foolishly hoping it wasn't too late. The call didn't happen all at once, Danny took about two minutes to manifest, and if you stop it before... No. He cut himself off in the middle of a thought. It is not known what will happen to Danny if the ritual is interrupted. He can be split between dimensions, and even if it doesn't kill him, it will definitely do harm. And this is guaranteed to give Bruce a new embittered super-powerful creature.
Batman landed at the foot of the escalators, gazing with annoyance at the shimmering green dome and the fuzzy giant figure of the King of Ghosts.
We were late.

He heard his children land softly behind him, and Conner landed with a crash.

"I'm here. Finished with the ones upstairs that... oooh god."

Bruce didn't turn around. Dick was right—the station lobby was too small for the size of a King.

"Is that Danny?" Stephanie gasped in shock as the body fully manifested and the green dome fell.

The cultists set up large floodlights around the perimeter of the summoning circle, but they weren't enough, and the Phantom's body towered above the line of light in a gigantic black mass. Bruce could only make out the tail, restlessly moving along the ground and disappearing into the darkness at the far edge of the platform, and a greenish glow around his bowed head. One white marble hand was planted on the floor, and Bruce could see the cultists running away from it in panic.
It was a good moment to attack.
He lunged forward, knocking out the nearest hooded man with one blow. It wasn't difficult - they are all now distracted by the Phantom. The children took this as a signal to attack and also rushed into battle. Recovered cultists began to shoot, the sounds reverberated loudly from the vaults of the vestibule. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw the Phantom raise its head, its horns and crown grinding against the ceiling. In the darkness, two green stars were burning in place of the eyes. God, how creepy.

In the direction of the escalators flashed a red and blue silhouette. Superman landed softly, gently bringing Zatanna to his feet. The woman froze in shock, trying to look around the figure of the King. Oh yes, she was not in the Canyon, she knew about this appearance of Phantom only from reports and from the words of others. Meanwhile, Danny's body began to shrink. Bruce thought he was going to transform back into a human (which he doesn't like because Danny's human shell looked too fragile and the surroundings weren't safe yet), but instead he just shrunk a bit. And he was still big enough to keep his head in shadow over the spotlights.

And then something changed. Bruce froze, feeling his hands freeze. With Danny's arrival, the temperature actually dropped, but now... it was like he got mad at the cultist in the Fold. Only much worse.
Batman quietly ordered everyone to retreat towards Zatanna and the escalators.
If last time the Phantom ate a man alive, what will he do now, when he is obviously more angry?

The Kents stood in front of the group, ready to take any blow. The cultists seem to have misunderstood something because they looked elated. They decided that the heroes were afraid of the summoned monster? The head of the summoning ritual, who had not moved from his seat all this time, looked at Phantom. He seemed to be simply paralyzed with terror, although from his vantage point Batman couldn't see accurately.
The king leaned forward, looming over the cultist and resting his dainty white arms at the man's sides again. Bruce thought with annoyance that he was going to devour an important suspect again, only this time it would be much tougher and bloodier - due to his reduced size, he could not swallow half a person at once. In parallel, Bruce was thinking about how amazingly well intimidation, strength and grace are combined in this body.
But instead of opening a mouth full of teeth and biting off the cultist's head, the Phantom took a deep breath and slowly, almost gently exhaled sparkling frosty air at the man.

And the man screamed.

A long, deafening, horrified scream tore from his throat. He fell to the ground, still screaming and convulsing. The phantom looked at the rest of the cultists, and they screamed as well. Their screams echoed repeatedly from the walls of the station and carried far along the tunnels. Bruce felt Damian shudder behind him. The rest were very pale, but none of the heroes were touched by madness. It was like being exposed to the Fear toxin.
Bruce wanted to put his hands over his ears.

In the midst of this, the King of Ghosts stood quietly and watched as people ripped their throats out and foam began to come out of their mouths. The impassive face of Phantom showed neither gloating nor satisfaction, it did not express anything at all. It didn't take long, about five minutes. In the end, he seemed to get tired, because he snapped his fingers and the already wheezing and squealing people instantly calmed down.
Bruce was sure that these screams would be a nightmare for him for a long time to come.

P҈̨̙̠̰͇͙͙̰̖̘̱̩̪͎̘͇ͅi̷̡͈̘̩͕̟̪̱͈t̴̢̝͇̭̮̗͇͓͖̖͓͙i̵̡̤̮͚̥̣̘̞̪̠̙ͅf̷̫͍̞̳͚̮̝̫͇̫͜ų̶͙̞̙̖̠͉̝͓l҈̨̣̦͇̝͈̭͍̳ n҉̧͎̪̯̲͓̥͎̬̫̤o̸̢̗̭̙͙̝͇͔̪̲̰ņ̴̯͉̤̥͍̭̱͕̝e̴̡̪̭̭͕̮͉͈̫̖͙̭̙͍̲͎̤n҈̧̙̰̘̞̫͕̳̗̤̦t҉̢̥̝̟̰̬͖̲̙̲͕̦̯̗̤̠ͅi̵͉̥͔̰̳͔̱̖͚͓͖͉̘̥̲͢ţ̶̘͈̠̖͚̗̥̯̗̥͚͍͖i̶̧̙͔̠͕̳̥͖͇̪͉̱̩͕͎ͅe҈̢̮͉͙̟͉͕͓͕̲͓̰̤̝̱ͅs̷̙̩̙̬̟̩̳͈̝͕̜͜ͅ.̸̧̪̬͉͙̘͎͕̦̭̮̲

His multi-dimensional crackling voice scratched their ears once more as the Phantom slowly contracted into its human form.
Bruce breathed a sigh of relief as he walked around the frozen Conner and approached Denny, glancing at the cultists on the ground along the way. They are all alive, amazing. Some were wheezing softly, but most were in a deep blackout.
White-haired, green-eyed Danny hovered a couple of feet off the floor, one hand clutching a gray T-shirt across his chest, the other covering his eyes. The closer Bruce got, the less he liked the view. White rings bathed the Phantom, restoring him to full human form, but he didn't move. Bruce hesitated a step away from the child and, reaching out his hand, weightlessly touched his shoulder.

"Danny?"

He shuddered, removing his hand from his face and turning to the man. Bruce took a deep breath. Danny's eyes were red and wet. Danny was crying.

"Danny, what's wrong?" Clarke appeared on Bruce's other side, and Batman chuckled grimly to himself. You might think that at least something was 'so'. Behind the big guy, Demian, Tim, and Stephanie loomed excitedly.

Bruce examined the child closely. In addition to the already familiar pallor and the obvious monstrous lack of sleep (he could not help but draw parallels with Tim), extensive red burns were visible on the arms and visible part of the neck, obviously fresh. They were a maximum of the first degree, but the size of the red spots was disturbing.
Could it have appeared during teleportation? Last time, Danny said that it was quite painful.
And he still pressed one hand to his chest protectively.

"Listen, we need to know if you-"

Still stubbornly silent, Danny sank to his feet and, barefoot slapping awkwardly on the cold, scratched floor, walked past them towards the corpses.

Oh.
Bruce remembered this.

There was practically no blood this time, and the bodies looked different. They were obviously killed in another place, and they were brought here already in this form, partially stiff. Faces were contorted in terrible agony. It was not to be hoped that these people died an easy death.
Bruce's heart sank as he saw another tear roll down Danny's cheek as he slowly leaned towards one of the bodies.
No one said a word until the boy had finished and froze, staring lostly at the floor of the platform.

They waited a bit before Bruce decided he was too worried to continue to ignore Danny's physical and mental state.
He sat down next to him so as not to loot over the child when he finally spoke.

"This time it was worse." he said softly.
Bruce looked at him questioningly, relieved to see that his expression had become more meaningful and puzzled. Not so empty.

Danny ran a hand over his cheeks, wiping away the remnants of tears, and slowly floated up into the air, remaining in a sitting position. He moved towards the rest of the heroes waiting to the side. Conner and Dick finished tying up the cultists, hauling them all into a casual mass pile near the escalators. The guy sent a small smile to Zatanna, noticing her as a familiar face among a bunch of unfamiliar ones.

" What exactly is worse?" Bruce asked as he followed.

"Everything, in general ..."

Danny, out of habit, raised his hand to rub his neck, but pulled it back with a hiss as he barely touched the fresh burn.

"I have an ointment for burns." said Dick, rummaging through one of the pouches. "I'm Nightwing, hi."

Finding the right tube, he handed it to Danny. He gratefully accepted the item, but was in no hurry to use it, looking thoughtfully at Nightwing, Spoiler, Red Robin and Robin. Then he turned to Batman with a suddenly lightened face.

"Are these your children? It's... you have such a cool general theme!"

He then drew an obvious parallel between Superboy and Superman and smiled sweetly.

"So you have a family business here. It's so cool, you have no idea." He didn't see Conner blush or Damian roll his eyes. Dick smiled gleefully, pleased that the Phantom was distracted by something more positive, Stephanie and Tim continued to stare at him in silence.

"About the worse." Danny returned to business, squeezing the ointment onto a large spot on his elbow and gently rubbing the clear, cool gel into his skin. "First, I slept. Or, he was pretty damn close. For the first time this week. I was in bed and everything, and my older sister was giving me head massages."

The King of Ghosts has an older sister. Bruce made a note to himself to come back to this later.

"Second, they seem to have modified the circle. Last time it was just hot and unpleasant, this time... well, you can see for yourself."

Clarke didn't miss the hand that held the tube of ointment pressed against his chest again protectively.

"Was there anything else?" he asked cautiously, casting a meaningful glance at the gesture.
Danny grimaced.

"Well, sort of…" He took a deep, careful breath, massaging his chest over his heart. "That call latched on to my core like a harpoon. It was fucking disturbing... I'm sure it shouldn't be like this. The core for a ghost is like a heart and a brain at the same time, an extremely important thing."

Pausing for a moment, Danny looked seriously at the superheroes.

"Don't make me regret telling you this."

He waved his hand in annoyance as some opened their mouths to reassure him of their reliability. He pulled up the long sleeve of his T-shirt, awkwardly smearing the ointment on the burn on the back of his shoulder.
Dick offered to help and Danny agreed, relieved, taking off his shirt and getting to his feet to make the older guy more comfortable. In addition to three large fresh burns on the back and neck, everyone noticed many small and larger scars covering the Phantom's body. Some were very disturbing and raised a lot of questions. One of the most notable was Lichtenberg's branched scar on his left arm, which stretched almost to the neck.
Without a single hitch, Dick, as if nothing had happened, began to carefully distribute the ointment.

"Third… Why the hell is the ceiling so low?" He raised his head sharply in indignation. As if the ceiling was to blame. Dick had to put a hand on the back of his head and force him to lower his head back. "Did you see how I had to bend over? It's good that nothing fell apart. Did they not think at all?"

"I don’t think they had any idea how gigantic you are." Damian remarked tartly.

Danny glared at him (Dick still had his hand on the back of his head, tending to the burn on his neck), but then suddenly broke into a toothy smile, causing the boy to flinch.

"You're so sweet." He drawled, trying to pat Robin on the cheeks, but he dodged with an annoyed "tt".

"One way or another, the basis of the ritual is that at the moment of the appearance I take on a royal appearance. I can't influence my size or shape. And, you know, before that I did not have to appear at abandoned subway stations."

Danny was silent for a second, then threw back his head again and yawned heartbreakingly. Several people flinched when they saw how many teeth there were. And what. And then he coughed, negating the effect, and Bruce remembered that Constantine had also said something about Danny having a cold during their inspection of the Lazarus Pits. So the King of Ghosts might get sick. Interesting.

"Fourth, they burned my sheets..."

Bruce frowned. He was one hundred percent sure that this item should not be here. Danny looked around for something, and when he found it, he gleefully pointed somewhere outside the illuminated area.

"Look! My pillow was also teleported."

And it's true. In the distance on the floor lay a large pillow, slightly singed on the side. Kon brought it to Danny, brushing it off the dirt and dust.

"Oooh, thank you, Super Child." Taking the pillow from him, Danny immediately wrapped his arms around it, buried his face in it, and yelled muffledly, causing the children to recoil in surprise. Then he was silent for about a minute while Dick finished with burns on his lower back.

"So, sixth..."

"Fifthly." Tim corrected.

"Yes exactly. Em. They changed the summoning catalyst a bit."

"Catalyst?" Zatanna asked, leaning forward. At first, she stood a little to the side, looking at the writing on the floor, but when the topic got to what she might know something about, she moved closer to Danny.

Danny turned to the group of bodies.

"Last time, fresh emotions and suffering were the catalyst." he said softly. " They killed them in front of you, didn't they? But these people have been dead for hours, and they... they died in such agony that they could form into full-fledged ghosts if there was enough ectoplasm around. They almost became my subjects. Those for whom I am responsible. I can taste their emotions and..."

He paused, feeling a lump in his throat.

"Caught me literally on live bait. Well, dead bait."

He let out a stifled chuckle as he let the pillow float beside him and put his shirt back on with a hiss of pain.

"Briefly speaking." He shook his whole body with irritation on his face and again hugged the pillow like a lifeline. "Where is Сonstantinе?"

"We do not know." Superman replied with obvious annoyance in his voice. "It tends to disappear from our radar from time to time."

Danny clicked his tongue.

"I can imagine. Ummm, can you give him a new assignment then?"

After waiting for the older heroes to agree, he accidentally yawned again and, rubbing his chin, cast a displeased glance at a bunch of cultists.

"These sommons are starting to worry me. For the second time in the same world, and how many more attempts were there? This is not normal, I hope you understand too. They haven't thought of adding anything like mind control yet, and it's unlikely they ever will, but... Guess what will happen if they do? There is no magic in this world that can hold me for more than a few seconds, but even that will be enough to, um... I destroy half the planet? This is not bragging, take it seriously. I want John to start a deep investigation into where all these bastards are getting the ritual from. Let him start as soon as he receives the message. It can't go on like this, it's starting to create too many problems, and…" He turned around again and took a long look at the sacrificial bodies. "I'm really pissed off. I can't guarantee that next time I'll be able to control myself."

There was weight in his words, and the heroes felt it.

"We will help Konstantin." Batman said firmly, typing something on his wrist display. You're right, this is starting to become a serious problem.

Danny smiled, the smile never touched his eyes.

Suddenly there were some sounds from above, only Danny and the Kents could hear them. Clarke listened for a moment before saying, relieved,

"The police are here."

At the same time, the whole of Danny somehow deflated, again burying his face in his pillow.

" What? Don't like cops?"

Stephanie, Tim and Damian and the Kents went to the exit of the platform to meet the police and help them with the transport of the arrested. Bruce and Dick stayed with Danny, who sat right on the floor.

" I have a strange history of relations with the police." he said indistinctly.

Nightwing looked at him in surprise as he squatted beside him.

"I thought you were a great and powerful ghost king ruling a vast parallel world?"

Danny grunted, swaying to the side and leaning against Nightwing's side. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Not that he was against positive physical contact.

" It's not a parallel world, it's... Ancients, don't care. I haven't always been the Ghost King. I wasn't always dead, for that matter."

Bruce, watching the cops with Gordon at the head carefully descend the broken escalators, froze, looking down at Denny. The child was reclining on Dick, still pressing his face into the pillow, and Batman could only see the top of his head, his thin neck with a burn mark and narrow shoulders. He really looked like a child. Bruce wondered how real this image was.

" Who were you before you became King?" Dick asked cautiously, assuming a more comfortable position.

Danny let out a long grunt, raising his head to give another heart-rending yawn and an irritated cough into his fist.

" I do not even know. Vigilante, perhaps? I think this is the closest definition. "He rubbed his eyes, pulling his legs up to his chest. "I flew around the city and protected people from ghosts. Sometimes i protected ghosts from people. Received in the face and from those and others. Sometimes I went to school."

Dick saw a sad, nostalgic smile cross his face.

"Hmmm, sounds like my youth. Only without the ghosts."

"Wow, how old were you when you started?" Danny asked, raising his head with interest, obviously hinting at the stratum of a heroic career.

"Eleven. And you?"

" I was fourteen. Eleven, a nightmare. Batman, how did you let this happen?" Danny turned his narrowed eyes to the man.

Bruce took a deep breath. God, how long ago was that?

"He figured out that I was Batman."

"Yes, I was a very smart child." Dick added smugly. "He offered me to be his partner and I accepted."

"Partner. At eleven."

"Ummm, okay, I was more of an assistant at the time?"

"Pretty good assistant." Bruce remarked quietly with barely concealed pride.

"Woah, you think so?" Nightwing smiled playfully and slammed his fist on Batman's thigh.

A brown-cloaked figure, who had previously spoken to Red Robin, separated from the group of policemen at the escalators and moved towards them. Danny squinted, making out the mustache, the glasses, the gray hair, the general rumpled appearance of the man, and the shiny police badge.

"This is Commissioner Gordon. I have been working with him for a long time." Batman explained to him, taking a small step forward so that the hem of his cloak slightly concealed Denny from the commissioner. Dick felt the boy tense up, pressing into his side and lifting his pillow, hiding his face behind it, but continuing to watch Gordon warily and with curiosity.
He looked surprised and worried.
He looked from Denny to the vigilantes, finally settling on the boy.

"Hello," he greeted him softly, stopping a couple of steps away so as not to embarrass the child. He looked at Batman. "Should I be worried?"

"No."

Gordon chuckled at this laconic answer, reaching into his pocket for a lollipop that he remembered was in there somewhere.

"My name is Jim." He leaned over, handing Denny the lollipop he had found. "Are you all right?"

Danny shrugged in what was supposed to be an answer to the question and held out his hand, taking the offered sweet. Gordon immediately noticed the burns. "Are doctors needed?" he quietly asked Batman.

"We've already taken care of that."

"He didn't…" The commissar turned to the bodies of the victims, shuddering inwardly at the thought that the cultists might have used the child as well.

"No, no. At least not in this sense."

Gordon raised an eyebrow questioningly, but Batman did not pursue the subject.

"Okay. Um, maybe you need to call someone? Parents or guardians."

Danny, who was unhurriedly unwrapping a candy wrapper, grinned wryly.

"It is unlikely that you will get through to them - my parents are on the other side of the multiverse. And they won't be very happy when they find out that their son was called to another world by a bunch of satanists because he is the dead king of the Infinite Worlds. Hmmm, they'd rather want to dissect me right there."

He muttered most of the sentence in an undertone, more to himself than to the others, but of course they heard everything.

Klark, who had been listening to their conversation in the background, turned around with a worried look.

"Uh, I didn’t quite understand the dissection part." Dick wrapped his arm around Denny's shoulders, pulling him closer to him, and he lay down completely on the man, letting out a weary sigh.

"Well, tenically, they don’t want to dissect me specifically. They just hate ghosts, and it just so happens that I'm one of them.

"Sooo you wouldn’t call your home environment safe?"

"Mmm, huh, nah. But I moved out of them about six months ago, now I live in the King's Castle. They think I went to college in Louisiana. Considering they don't give a shit about me, maintaining this legend isn't that hard."

There was bitterness in Danny's voice. He gnawed at the lollipop with a crunch, not looking up at the adults and not wanting to see the expressions on their faces. Oh, Ancient Ones, lack of sleep makes him too emotional.
He must sleep.

Danny staggered to his feet, nearly losing his balance and grabbing onto Batman's cloak for stability.

"I have to go. It's been two hours in the Phantom Zone, my sister must be going crazy."

Distrustful of his feet, he floated off the floor, ignoring Jim Gordon's wide eyes.
Danny waved to the rest of the heroes in the distance and opened the green portal with the same hand.

"Perhaps I will visit Constantine or you in a couple of weeks if nothing happens. I hope by this time there will be some results on the case."

"See you, Danny." — Dick patted his hand goodbye. — "Get some rest."

"That's what I was trying to do when I was called. Have a good rest. Now I hardly ever fall asleep. And yes, Batman, Commissioner." He stopped, turning to the men and making large innocent eyes, for greater effect hugging his dusty burnt pillow again and fluttering his eyelashes several times. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Batman asked cautiously, vaguely recognizing the tone. The tone of an impudent child who has done some kind of dirty trick.

"I tried to be gentle, really. But they pissed me off." Danny pouted his lips, resting his cheek on the pillow.

"I don't understand..."

"You’ll understand when those bastards come to their senses… some won’t. Some not really. Their brains have now turned into porridge ..."

He yawned again, stepping through the green curtain with one foot.

"Bye."

And he quickly disappeared into the portal, while no one had time to say anything.
They were silent for a minute, staring at the empty space where Phantom had disappeared.

"I am horrified and delighted at the same time." — said Dick at last, stretching and throwing his hands behind his head. "I miss him already."

Chapter Text

Bruce put down his pen and rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring displeasedly at the stack of documents to his right.
Because of his investigation of cults, he had no time to deal with the bureaucratic side of his life, both lives as a member of the League and co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He'd accumulated quite a lot in a month, so he decided to stay on a two-day watch at the Tower and deal with it all in one go.
He stretched his arms over his head and stretched, feeling his back crackle.
He needs coffee.

Bruce left the table, donning the Batman hood he had taken off while working in the office as he went. Nearby was a rest room, where there was a coffee machine. If he's lucky, there's still some chocolate protein bars left. But that was not to be hoped for, given that the Flash had been here half an hour ago.

There was no one in the bright corridors. He calmly made his way to the break room without bumping into anyone. What happiness.

He opened the cabinet, taking out a double Americano capsule and loading it into the coffee machine. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, seeing that the basket, where cookies and snacks usually lay, was completely empty. Hell, he'd swear a full third of the Tower's budget goes to food, and half the Flash's fault.
Batman crossed his arms over his chest, listening to the hum of the machine and enjoying the tart smell of good coffee that filled the room.

The investigation into the source of the spread of the Ghost King's summoning ritual has stalled a bit. And Bruce would like to blame Danny for driving those cultists crazy, but that was stupid.Yes, they were not interrogated properly, and most of them had to be placed in Arkham due to absolute insanity, but it's better than if the Phantom just killed them. Bruce should be thankful that Danny restrained himself and didn't eat anyone. But he was really, really upset.

One of the main problems with the investigation now was that they couldn't catch Klarion. The damn witcher had been lying low since the beginning of the whole summoning mess, and the League had every reason to believe that he was directly involved in this.

Bruce took his cup as the machine finished and immediately took a long sip. The hot drink immediately seared his insides, and the man sighed in satisfaction. Nothing is more invigorating on a two-day shift than a burn of the esophagus.

He leisurely walked back to his office, pulling out his phone and flipping through the family chat along the way. Damian had a math exam today and, judging by his self-satisfied reports about the level of modern school education, the exam was a success.
The others took the opportunity to remind him of the tantrum he threw at the "B" for the Literature exam last month.
A soft smile crossed his lips as he put away his phone before entering his office.
Until they have new leads in the investigation, all they can do is keep a close eye on the cults and prevent anyone from summoning the Phantom again. This cannot be allowed, at any cost. Bruce didn't want to test the depth of Danny's patience... Danny...
Which was obviously lying on the floor in his office right now.

Bruce crouched down and quickly scanned the room for danger. Everything was the same as when he left. Well, except for Danny. The man silently placed his mug of coffee on the table and, moving in a large arc, slowly approached the teenager without making a sound. The boy was lying in a fetal position between a sofa and an armchair. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, his chest moving with slow breathing. He slept.
Daniel Phantom, a creepy child Ghost King of immeasurable power, was just lying and sleeping on the floor in his office at the Justice League's secret space headquarters.
Bruce blinked in surprise as he squatted down.

He reached out, gently touching the child's shoulder where he remembered there was no burn. A week and a half had passed since their last meeting, and Batman did not know if the burns had healed or not, but he would rather not risk it.

"Danny," he called softly, squeezing the other's shoulder.

It was enough for the child to sigh and open its sleep-clouded eyes, jerking its head and trying to sit up.

"Take it easy, buddy." Bruce held him by the shoulder, helping him to sit up. "What are you doing here?"

“Uh, I…” He looked around sleepily until he fixed his unfocused gaze on Bruce. "Did I doze off?"

"Yep, I understand. Why on the floor?"

“Well, I came to see you, but you weren't there, so I decided to wait, and, well… here. Quite comfortable, by the way, cool floor."

Bruce chuckled, eyeing the teenager closely. He still had an extremely unhealthy and emaciated appearance, deep shadows lay under his eyes, his skin looked thin and pale. He noticed Denny's hands shaking slightly, which could be just another symptom of sleep deprivation.Bruce sighed as he stood up and pulled Danny up with him. He sat him on the sofa, the guy was surprisingly obedient, apparently not yet fully awake. Danny swayed as the padded seat sagged under him and Bruce had to put a hand on his shoulder again to keep him upright.

"And why did you come to me? I, unlike Konstantin, do not owe you anything."

Phantom's eyes were closed, he hummed in the affirmative. But instead of answering, he said something that made Bruce freeze in surprise:

“Your children love you." He yawned sleepily and frowned, trying to collect his thoughts. “There’s this feeling around you, mmm… Security?"

Did he draw this conclusion from three encounters with Batman and one encounter with the Robins? However, he remembered Constantine's words about ghosts being supernaturally empathic. A couple of meetings really could have been enough for the boy to understand something about their relationship.

Danny blinked, pressing his palms to his cheeks and rubbing them.

“Actually, I was going to take advantage of your company and sleep because it’s hard for me to sleep in the castle without Jazz or Ellie, and I can’t disturb them every time I need to rest, and it’s not safe to sleep at home..."

Bruce's gaze flickered over Lichtenberg's scars on his left arm. Was it related to the insecurity of the house?

“The observers are terribly fucked up. For some reason, they decided that they could get me on any issue at any time. They're... they're getting brazen, the ugly bastards. And no one will find me here." Danny added. With each slow breath, his head sank lower and lower. God, he fell asleep in the middle of a conversation. “Your presence relaxes me, Mr. Batman. This is nonsense, by the way. You are an exceptional adult, you can be proud of it."

After a moment of silence, he suddenly raised his head, looking at Bruce with an almost clear look.

"But if I interfere or annoy, I can..."

Bruce chuckled softly, pressing down on Danny's shoulder and forcing him to lie on his side.

"You're not interfering." He leaned over and carefully placed the child's bare feet on the couch. Why is he barefoot? And pushed the pillow to his head. “I'm just a little surprised. You can stay."

He couldn't help but notice how relieved Danny exhaled as he settled into a more comfortable position. Bruce went to a closet hidden in the wall to get a blanket. When he returned to the sofa, the child was already falling asleep again, wrapping his arms around himself and tucking his legs chillily. He silently covered him with a blanket.

Within half a minute, Danny's face completely relaxed, and his breathing again became measured and deep. And too slow for Batman's taste.But what did he know about the anatomy of the Ghost Kings? Maybe this is the norm. Also, the fact that Danny was in a semi-conscious state throughout their conversation and how quickly he fell asleep (lost consciousness) led him to certain disturbing thoughts. Who in these Infinite Realms looked after the health of the king? Bruce has something to talk about with him.

He returned to his desk, turning off all the lights in the room except for the table lamp. His coffee is a little cold, but that's okay.
He dug into the documents again, sorting through the reports from WE. It was a damn boring and routine job, but he had to do it.

After a while, he found himself looking up at Danny every three minutes. The young man slept very quietly, his shoulders barely moving from breathing, and the only sign that he was alive was the faint movement of his eyes under his eyelids. Bruce fought the urge to go over and put two fingers on his wrist to check for a pulse.
It was unnerving. Bruce was used to seeing restless and nervous or calm and sound sleep of his children, and Danny slept like a log.

Exhaling in annoyance, the man looked into his empty cup with brown stains from coffee on the bottom. He needs more americano. No, espresso. Triple. He glanced sideways at the Phantom again. Nothing would happen if he walked away for a couple of minutes, right?

Walking a little faster than he should, he was back in the break room, pulling a capsule from the cupboard in one motion and putting the mug into the coffee machine. He should thank heaven that he still hasn't met anyone. What was not surprising - GMT is now the middle of the night. Barely waiting for the beep, he returned to the room in the same haste. In total, he spent no more than six minutes, during which time nothing could have happened, right?
God, what is he worried about?

Trying to make as few noises as possible, Bruce slipped into the office, looking at Danny first. Of course, the baby was still asleep. He shifted his hand slightly under the pillow, and a thin frown lay between his eyebrows, making the shadows under his eyes even deeper.

In the dream, he looked damn young. How old is he really? He still did not quite understand how to interpret the vague formulation of "eighteen plus or minus one and a half", one of the few hypotheses - at a certain period of his life, Denny lost the ability to track the passage of time and, consequently, his age. He believes that this happened after fourteen, since this is the only clear number that the boy named. It could also be a temporal anomaly. It was clear from Denny's several reservations that in these Infinite Realms, time flows differently and there are some kind of time loops.Bruce somehow doubted that Danny was actually much older than he looked. At least because the child himself did not particularly hide his young age. Either he deliberately behaved like a child, but he didn’t believe in that either.

With another irritated sigh, Batman sat down at the table, trying for a while to put out of his head all thoughts that did not concern his work.

***

“Bats, hello, Cyborg asked ...” Hal, who burst into the office, froze in surprise when he was met by Batman's muffled growl.

"What the hell without knocking?" Bruce asked in a hissing whisper, looking as displeased as possible.

GL, which held the tablet in front of it like a shield, looked around the darkened office. The only source of light was a table lamp, and the rest of the room was lost in darkness. On the guest couch, he noticed a sleeping figure.

"Oh, sorry." he muttered, lowering his voice. "I didn't know one of your children was here. In general, here, Vic conveyed."

Bruce took the slate held out to him, ignoring the "his child" clause. Well, he couldn't deny the fact that in human form, Danny was the perfect fit for his "serial adopter type." He'd already gotten a few quips about it from his kids on the way to the estate, after that ill-fated call on the subway. They didn't want a new brother, you see. As if Bruce had plans to adopt the King of Ghosts.

"You can go." he hinted when it became obvious that Hal was taking too long, looking with inappropriate tenderness at the top of Denny's black hair peeking out from under the rug.

"Ah, um, yepp. Vic asked for an answer within two hours."

Exhaling only when the door closed behind Lantern, Bruce glared at Danny. He wrinkled his face a little and turned his head when the light from the corridor hit his eyelids, but he did not seem to wake up.
The man grunted in satisfaction and pressed one of the buttons on the control panel that lay nearby, blocking the door. If anyone else suddenly needs Batman, let them knock first. Then he froze when he thought that they could knock so that even the dead would be awakened. Maybe he should put a "do not disturb" sign on the door.

Grunting once more, he delved into the data that the Lantern had brought.
The Cyborg carefully studied absolutely all digital spaces for three weeks, where there could be at least a hint of a connection between cults.
There were only random coincidences like the mass purchase of candles or fabrics from which hoodies were sewn.
It was extremely difficult to trace, because everything happened not only in different cities and different states, but also in different countries.Several times already, following the money trail, they went to a yoga club or Jehovah's Witnesses.
None of the arrested cultists were linked to the others until the day of Danny's first appearance in the Justice League conference room. The Lord of the Dead cult behind the Canyon Incident consisted of only three members prior to D-Day, one of whom was eaten by Denny and the other two died under mysterious circumstances a few days before the Incident. This cult was "Patient Zero", the first to attempt (and succeed) in summoning the King of Ghosts. Everyone else pulled up after. Was there something special about that cult, or is it just a coincidence? Bruce didn't believe in coincidences.

Danny shifted and Batman snapped out of his thoughts, looking up. The child frowned even more, pressing his face into the pillow. Is he having a nightmare? Does the King of Ghosts have nightmares? Do ghosts sleep?
Bruce squinted at the monitor on the side of his desk, and with a couple of manipulations opened the file on Daniel Phantom. He tried to put together here all the information that the League currently possessed. There were both personal observations of the heroes who had contact with Danny, and general data on the King of Ghosts and the Infinite Realms from the Justice League Dark.

Well, for starters, they all had to make some effort to realize the real existence of ghosts. Zatanna, Constantine and Marvel patiently explained to them for about an hour how it even works. But from the looks of it, even the magicians didn't know that much. This has always been a difficult area to study, and it was much easier to focus on something specific, like demons or gods.

Infinite Realms is a dimension that is a connecting space between all existing universes. The existence of other worlds was nothing new to Batman, but the fact that there was another vast, infinite dimension between them all, yes, it was news. And Danny was the supreme ruler of this dimension.
He took the throne by right of conquest, which means he is stronger than the previous king. Entries in ancient books portrayed Pariah Dark as a cruel, infinitely powerful tyrant, maddened by his own power and obsessed with war. Bruce could not objectively judge the actual level of his power, because the whole description boiled down to "invincible", "strongest", "greatest" and "terrifying". Well, Zatanna said that earlier only a few united ancient ghosts were able to defeat him. They couldn't even kill him, only imprison him. Based on this, Bruce could safely say that he was frightened by the power of Danny, who single-handedly defeated this monster. They couldn't even measure his power level. The only thing that could be said with certainty was that he was stronger than any being in their universe. Perhaps by bringing together the strongest members, the Justice League might try to give him a fight. The key word is "try"...

Bruce sighed indignantly and buried his face in his hands. Okay, putting aside the question of Denny's real power (because his brain refused to think in that direction), there is still the issue of his political significance. He was the ruler of a numerous civilization that had its own statehood and system of government. Again, the dumb cultists were constantly trying to summon literally a member of the royal family. There was at least one other representative in this family - the Big Sister (Bruce has not yet decided whether to include Denny's parents here due to the fact that they are apparently ghost hunters). Who was the Big Sister? Is she a ghost? Is she just as strong? What position does she hold in the apparatus of government of the Infinite Realms? Is she as loyal to people as Danny is? Should the League fear her wrath when she gets fed up with her little brother being forcibly drafted?
Should they fear the wrath of other ghosts? Surely the King has advisors, allies, commanders and, in the end, an army.
It was hard to realize that the child, curled up on the sofa in a displeased cocoon, had an entire army under his command.

The displeased cocoon stirred as Danny dropped the blanket from his shoulders and, floundering listlessly, rolled over onto his other side, turning away from Bruce. All he could see now was his lean back in the oversized red hoodie, slowly rising with his breath. Very slow breathing.
Danny was a ghost, Bruce reminded himself. Danny was dead. For some reason, Danny was still breathing, but Batman was grateful for it - the absence of signs of life would drive him crazy every minute of being next to the guy.
Constantine said that Danny is an unusual ghost. They didn't know if it was because he was the King or something else. His body had several forms, at least three: a huge godlike form, a white humanoid form (which they had glimpsed a couple of times when Danny had transformed from giant to human), and a human form. Well, as far as a person can be called, whose heart makes at best forty beats per minute (Clark considered). Does it affect the rate of bleeding? What about metabolism and oxygen levels? His body temperature was also well below normal human temperature, which made sense, since in his ghostly form he was literally a source of cold.

Batman tapped his pen softly on the table, pursing his lips and continuing to stare thoughtfully at the file open on the screen. He glanced at his watch. It's five in the morning in Gotham. Damian and Tim were supposed to be back from patrol by now, Duke would be out on his patrol in half an hour. Judging by the silence in the general communication channel, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

The tablet on the table beeped, notifying him of an incoming message. Victor asked what he thought of the recent data.
After reviewing the report again, Bruce typed dry "still not enough information." A second later, a sad emoji came back.

A soft sob made him tense up and look at Danny's trembling back. Then came another sob, and another, and a barely audible mutter.
Rising soundlessly, Bruce approached, listening for the words. What he could see made his heart clench in alarm.

"Mom, don't... Mom, please, I don't... no... I'm still Danny..."

The child continued to mutter silent pleas incoherently, clutching the plaid fabric in his hand. Whatever happened in Danny's life made Bruce's parental instincts scream at him and demand that he adopt the unfortunate child immediately. Lord, this is already turning into a conditioned reflex. Sign the adoption papers first, ask questions later. Oh, his kids will love it.
The boy shuddered, and another plea escaped his lips. Bruce couldn't fight it anymore.
He put his hand on Danny's back and began to draw soothing circles.

“Danny, it's okay." he said softly, leaning over the sofa and peering into Phantom's face. “It's just a dream. Are you okay."

He twitched, trying to avoid Bruce's touch, and furrowed his brows in pain.

“Danny, buddy, it's okay. Just a nightmare."

Bruce gently rubbed his tense back between his shoulder blades, feeling sharp vertebrae and sinewy muscles under his palm.
Suddenly, Phantom opened his eyes sharply, turned around and struck with his left hand. Bruce didn't even see the swing, blocking his arm inches from his face on instinct alone, shuddering at the force of the blow. If he hadn't, his jaw might have been broken by now.

“Just a nightmare." he repeated, loosening his grip on Denny's wrist, who was darting around the room with bleary, wild eyes, breathing heavily. "You're in my office, remember?"

Blinking slowly a few times, Danny looked at him for a long moment, then leaned back against the pillow and sighed heavily.

"All right, buddy? Sleep on, it's only been four hours."

The child mumbled something in response, vaguely after the “yeah”, relaxing again and falling into a more restful sleep. Watching his breathing even out, Bruce let go of his hand and straightened the slipped blanket, noting with surprise that the big red sweatshirt the guy was wearing was Wonder Woman merch. And where did he get it from?
After confirming that Danny was sound asleep again, Batman returned to his desk when his phone vibrated from an incoming call. It was a phone for Bruce Wayne.

He turned off the voice modulator and silently slipped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him and squinting against the bright light. His eyes had become accustomed to the semi-darkness in the office.

"I'm listening."

"Mr. Wayne, this is Joss Wickham, head of WayneFood. Sorry it's so early, but it's very urgent!" There was some noise in the background and, it seems, the sirens of fire engines.
Bruce tensed.

"Good morning, Joss, what's up?"

“Our warehouse in Bristol exploded twenty minutes ago, and that's pretty bad because it's still on fire!"

“Oh God, was anyone hurt?"

"Fortunately, no, the explosion occurred in the warehouse, at that time there were no workers there. People managed to leave before the fire spread. Only a few bruises and a couple of people inhaled the smoke."

"Is my presence required?"

“Uh, yes, that would be nice, because Mr. Drake-Wayne said that he would not be able to appear in the next hour, and we urgently need to decide where to move what we could save from the fire..."

Bruce grimaced in annoyance as he pulled out the League's phone with his other hand and texted Superman summarizing the situation. He couldn't fucking go and leave Danny alone in the Tower right now. Clark should at least be free now. The answer came almost instantly – Kent was on his way.

“I'll be there in twenty minutes. Sort the cargo according to the degree of damage and call the nearest warehouses.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, we are waiting for you."

Hanging up the call, Bruce peered into the office to make sure Danny was still sleeping soundly. Hearing a slight sound at the end of the corridor, he turned to see an excited and at the same time cheerful Superman approaching closely and standing next to Bruce to also look into the room.

"How did he even get here?" the Kryptonian asked in a whisper.

“Obviously opened a portal." Batman replied without enthusiasm, quickly typing a message to Tim. What happened that he couldn't come? The patrol didn't go according to plan and he didn't bother to report it?
"I have to leave for a couple of hours. Just stay here, I don't want Danny to wake up alone and start wandering around the Tower."

"No problem. Be careful."

Batman waved him off, already rushing to the zeta tubes.

After watching Batman disappear around the corner, Superman, trying to be as quiet as possible just in case, entered the darkened office. Danny Phantom slept on the couch with his back to the entrance. Clark carefully swam up to him, listening to the calm but terribly slow heartbeat. It unnerved him, but apparently it was normal for Danny.Clarke chuckled kindly, thinking that no matter how terrifying Batman was, the kids continued to gather around him.
The man sank into a large armchair, a baroque armchair diagonally across from the sofa, so that he could see the top of Danny's head. He took out his phone from a secret pocket and turned on a simple game of three in a row to pass the time.
Half an hour later, Lois woke up and asked him where he had gone so early. Clark answered honestly – Batman asked him to sit with the child. Lois didn't quite understand why Clark would baby-sit someone from the Bat-brood, but she didn't ask further because Batman and his children were too sensitive a subject.

Half an hour later, when Kent set a new record in half in his toy, a rustle was heard from the sofa, and the tousled head of the Phantom peeked out from behind the armrest. He blinked sleepily, frowning at the blue and red suit.

"Hello Mr Superman." he finally greeted in a slightly hoarse voice, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with his fist.

"Hello, Danny." Clark smiled.

"Where's Batman?" Suppressing a yawn, the teenager slid off the couch and, looking at Clark's phone, climbed onto the arm of his chair like a big cat.

“He had some urgent business in Gotham, but he promised to be back soon."

"So you're watching me while he's gone?" Danny leaned back against the high back of his chair, watching Clarke stack the combinations of colorful donuts.

"I'm looking more."

Clark shifted slightly so that the child could sit more comfortably and have a better view. He also turned on the sound in the toy, allowing the relaxed music to fill the space.

"How are you?" he asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

Danny hummed vaguely, shaking his hand in a so-so gesture. Seeing that he was not very comfortable to sit on, Clark shifted more so that Danny could put his feet on the seat, tucking his bare feet under Superman's cloak like a blanket. The child rested his chin on his shoulder, watching the game.
When he was this close, along with his slow heartbeat, Clarke could hear a buzz coming from the center of his chest. Danny seems to have called it his core? The buzzing was barely audible, oscillating gently, waxing and waning like a cat's purr.

"Uh-uh, yes, as usual. I spend all day filling out paperwork like office plankton, going to Council meetings, avoiding Observers, going around territories, pestering Konstantin. All sorts of royalty."

He yawned, snuggling closer to Superman's shoulder. With belated surprise, the man once again noticed how tactile Denny was, and it would even be embarrassing if the presence of a child was not so irrationally comfortable. And at the same time, it made Clark sad - this behavior of the Phantom very much reminded him of the behavior of children who lacked parental love. Conner was like that, Jason was like that, Roy was like that, and a lot of teenage superheroes were like that. It's just that Danny, unlike them, was not shy about showing it and looking for any positive contacts. Perhaps he was originally such an open child, or perhaps the title of King of Ghosts liberated him. Clark didn't know, but it wasn't difficult for him to provide as much harmless physical intimacy as Danny needed.

***

As Bruce predicted, Red Robin got into a bit of a mess towards the end of the patrol, where he suffered a badly bruised ribs and a sprained ankle (surprisingly, this was not related to Damian), and therefore could not come to the burning warehouse to direct the transport of the surviving cargo. to other warehouses. At least because Alfred put him on strict bed rest for the next two days.

Duke aka Signal was nearby and was monitoring the fire, so everything was more or less under control.
It took about two hours to distribute the salvaged goods to nearby warehouses, and another half an hour for the police to finish questioning workers and Joss Wickham about the details of the fire. Bruce did not leave them solely because he did not want to leave the employees alone with the police, although he trusted Gordon to a sufficient extent.

All the way back to the mansion Bruce overcame at the maximum speed. On the way to the cave, he looked into Tim's room. The guy slept (what a blessing), wrapping his arms around his bruised ribs and stretching out his bandaged leg on the pillows. Then the father of the family looked into Demian's room, and was greeted with an annoyed look and "what do you want." Wishing his youngest son a good day, Bruce hurried down into the cave, grabbing one of the snack boxes left by Alfred from the table. After changing into the Dark Knight's armor, he thought for a moment and took another lunchbox.
Once in the Watchtower, he almost forcibly forced himself to walk at a normal pace so as not to arouse the suspicions of any of the oncoming heroes. Forced to say hello to Black Canary and Plastic Man, avoiding being drawn into the conversation.

Turning into the corridor where his office was located, Bruce hoped that if Danny did wake up, then he would calmly react to Bruce's absence. He also hoped the boy didn't have any more nightmares. It's not that he was afraid that in a panic, the guy could actually hurt Superman. Although what the hell is not joking.

But what he certainly didn't expect was the picture he found when he entered his office.

Clarke sat relaxed in that big vintage chair and played something on the phone, while Danny slept very peacefully. And everything would have been fine, but Danny was sleeping on Clark's lap with his nose buried in his neck, while Kent had the audacity to look like nothing strange was happening at all.
Bruce narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out how it happened and why Danny had crawled off the couch onto Superman's fucking knees. However, he was definitely glad that the child's sleep was calm and sound.

"Already back?" The Kryptonian blinked innocently, adjusting the arm that was wrapped around Denny's back.

"Yes. Everything is good?"

"Everything is fine." Kent gave him a modest smile, casting a gentle glance at the Phantom. "Did you know he purrs?"

Beneath the hood, Bruce's eyebrow twitched as he sat down at his desk, placing lunch boxes next to him and opening one.

"Purring?"

"Yes. I think its core emits such low frequency vibrations. It's pretty funny."

Bruce chuckled as he picked out the cutest among the mini meat sandwiches. Which was hard enough because all the sandwiches Alfred made were pretty.
Clark returned to his silly playing, the music humming low and melodious in the comfortable silence of the room.
Reopening the file on the Phantom, Batman added the note 'The core emits low-frequency vibrations that are not audible to normal human hearing; Superman compared it to a cat's purr.'

He looked at the sweet couple in the chair. It should be noted how small Denny seemed against the backdrop of a large and muscular superhero. It was touching and disturbing at the same time. Danny was malnourished? The fact that he did not get enough sleep is already an obvious fact. He said something about Watchers, Jazz, and Ally.
Bruce entered the new names into the file.

'Observer' sounds like some kind of administrative position, and someone from 'Jazz' or 'Ellie' could be Big Sister, because both names sound feminine.
Were the 'Observants' the troublemakers and the cause of Danny's lack of sleep? If so, are they doing it on purpose? If so, does that mean the kingdom is in discord? Is this the action of the opposition?
Or Bruce thinks too much with too little information.

Danny snorted and muttered something, cringing into Clark's arms, but Clark whispered soothingly and rubbed Danny's shoulder. The teen immediately calmed down, relaxing and sliding a little lower, his cheek now resting on Superman's chest.

“He is such a child." Clarke said almost inaudibly, looking up at Bruce, who was picking at his snacks.

He chuckled.

"Are we going to do something about it?"

Batman glared at him.

"What can we do? He is an omnipotent entity, and we didn't even know he existed until he himself appeared. Yes, he's a child under a lot of pressure, but we can't help him. We don't know what he needs help with. Does he need our help at all? Though I'm sure he'll feel a little better if we deal with our cults. I suggest you focus on this. I don't want to meet Danny at the summoning circle again."

Swallowing, Clark pulled Danny a little closer to him. Before his eyes was the tragic, tear-stained face of a child leaning over the sacrificial bodies. Though he should have thought about Denny's threats and words and how his favors weren't endless.
But what if someone decides to summon Danny right now, from his embrace? Oh, Clark would be furious.
Bruce is right. If only for their own safety, they should put even more effort into investigating cults.
Batman chuckled as he watched the (metaphorically) Kryptonian's eyes light up. The main thing is that he does not fly in search of cultists right now.

***

Another three hours flew by almost unnoticed. At some point, Clark also dozed off, and now Bruce had two sleeping powerful creatures in his office at once. And if he quietly took a couple of photos for memory, then no one needs to know about it.

The idyll was interrupted by a phone call. It certainly wasn't Bruce's phone, not because all of his phones were on silent now, but because Gummy Bear was the ringtone. He also doubted that Clarke would have played that tune for himself. The couple on the couch shifted, and Danny groaned in displeasure, reaching for his pocket. Clarke blinked sleepily several times, lowering his head and looking at Danny, who was frowning.
Without opening his eyes or moving from Superman's chest, he pulled out a slightly strange mobile phone and accepted the call.

"Danny?" asked a young female voice on the other end of the call. Clark could hear some static and noise, as if the connection wasn't very good. It made sense, assuming they were calling from another dimension.

Danny hummed in question in response.

"Where are you?" The girl sounded a little worried, but not overly so. "It’s like no one has been able to find you for seventeen hours now? Frighty even came to me to call you."

Danny's frown deepened as he opened one eye and took the phone away from his ear to look at the screen.

"Wow. Well, I'm not in the Zone, so I lost track of time a bit." He let out a long yawn as the girl on the other end of the call sighed in exasperation. "Tell Frighty I'll be there soon."

"So where are you now? Hopefully not at home." At the last words, the girl's voice rang slightly with concern, and Clark frowned. Why did she dislike the idea that Danny could be home so much? But then he remembered his ghost hunter parents, and everything fell into place.

"The ancients, of course not. I am where no one can find me. Apparently it works because no one has found me. I was asleep."

The girl snorted merrily.

"I hope so, and I don’t have to drag you by the scruff of the neck into bed again anytime soon. Okay, I have to go. I'll tell Frighty not to worry. Next time, just let him know when you want to be alone."

"Otay. So long, Jazz."

"Bye-bye."

Danny yawned again and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He lifted his head and smiled sleepily and a little embarrassedly at Clark.

"Uh, thanks for lending your knees." He slid awkwardly to the floor and stretched with a crunch in his back. "Oh Mr Batman!"

He beamed, and Bruce gloated only a little at the fact that the child gave him that happy smile and not Kent. Oh no, it really looks like a direct route to the adoption papers. He must stop. Right now.

"Already leaving?" Batman rose from the table, approaching the awkwardly hesitant Danny.

"Yep. It turns out that my Captain of the Royal Guard has already lost me. I guess I shouldn't make him worry so much."

Nodding in understanding, the man picked up a second lunchbox from the table and handed it to the slightly surprised boy. He took it (it was one of the Robins' old children's lunchbox, decorated with frayed star stickers) and opened it with an enthusiastic sigh, revealing a neat fruit cut inside.

"Wow, thanks."

"They are made by my butler, they must taste very good."

"Do you have a butler?" Danny's eyes widened in surprise as he stuffed a piece of apple into his mouth. "Wait a minute, I have a butler too. And the castellan. And the royal guard. And advisors..."

At the last, he groaned, throwing his head back like a petulant child.

"Ancients, I have to go back or they will all beat me to death. Well, until the second death." He turned to Batman with an embarrassed and grateful face, clutching the lunchbox to his chest. Clarke could faintly hear the rate of vibration of his ghost core quicken.
"Thank you Mr Batman. I know it was sudden as hell, but really thanks."

"No problem, Danny. You can come back if you need help."

Danny's eyes sparkled with gratitude. He took a step away from them, waving his hand and opening a portal.

"You were great too, Mr. Superman. Perhaps I can persuade my friend to make some ghostly phones so that I can give advance notice of my visits. Oh, Constantine would love that. Thanks again, bye!"

Waving at them, he stepped into the green portal.

"He said, 'the second death.'"
Clark muttered as the dimensional rift closed.

"Yes, I heard."

"He's dead, Bruce."

"Clark, he's a ghost. He had to die to be like this."

"Bruce, he looks thirteen."

“I would say sixteen.

*sigh full of pain*

Chapter Text

> Kid, would you be so kind as to come and get one of your sassy subjects
11:23

> He's been trashing Central City for an hour and a half and the fucking Justice League can't do anything about it.
11:36

> I know you must be busy with some royal business...
11:56

> But this is a "really need help" situation.
12:02

> Realistically
12:03

> You can add this service to my list of debts.
12:07

Constantine irritably blocked the ghostly phone and slipped it into his pocket, raising his gaze to the heroes crowded around him. Batman stared at him nonchalantly, clearly waiting for verbal confirmation that Danny's texting call had gone badly.
(Bruce had texted him himself several times before, though he never decided to call. There was something odd about it, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was crossing some personal line.)

"It's only been half an hour," Superman raised his hands conciliatorily."

"In his world, it's an hour." Flash muttered, as he finished his second shawarma and jerked his foot nervously at a mile a minute.

"We don't know what he might be up to."

Batman hummed, which could have been construed as 'yeah, really,' or 'what could be so important that he's busy?' Clark preferred the first option. At least he wanted to think that Bruce had developed a sympathy for the boy. After all, how many times had Danny visited Wayne Manor before? Three times?

In fact, Danny's last visit had been almost two months ago, and that was troubling. He'd shown up once a week for Sunday dinner at the Waynes', and his disappearance for so long... worried Clark. No, he wasn't trying to keep track of Danny's every visit to their universe, after all, he didn't know about half of his visits to Constantine, but the occultist hadn't seen the guy in a while either.
It was a little strange to realize how quickly the child king had taken a definite place in their overall picture of the world, but that wasn't what Clark was worried about right now. He was worried about where Danny had disappeared to. Well, and the huge ghostly monster raging in Central City did, too.

The monster was as tall as a ten-story building and looked like a demon from a medieval engraving, with a thick belly, horns, a donkey's tail, and yellow, crooked teeth in a big mouth. All in all, he was pretty nasty. Unfortunately, though, that didn't make him any less destructive-already four blocks lay in ruins. Fortunately, it's pretty slow, and thanks to the combined efforts of the speedsters and the Kryptonians, everyone in the area was evacuated before anyone was seriously hurt.

He was also completely invulnerable to all power and energy attacks. And, much to everyone's dismay, only Zatanna and Constantine were able to arrive from the magic users. Their attacks only distracted and annoyed the monster at best, and no one knows where Doctor Faith and Captain Marvel are.

So now, to their shame, they were all hoping for Danny, because the monster was ghostly enough for the wizards to conclude that it was an inhabitant of the Infinite Realms.

"On Danny's last visit was everything all right?" Green Arrow asked, melancholy as he wiped the hilt of his bow with a cloth. It was no secret to anyone in the League that Danny occasionally hung out with both Batman and Constantine.

Constantine shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't the last person to see Danny.
All eyes turned to Batman.

"If something was wrong, I would have reported it." He commented, not taking his eyes off the display on his forearm.

"Who knows. Maybe you're secretly planning a new addition to the family."

Oliver didn't bat an eye when Bruce gave him a murderous look. Diana, however, who giggled at the joke, was spared it. She and Clark were the only ones who could make gratuitous jokes about Bruce's penchant for adoption.

The already familiar rumble and roar of the monster echoed with increased intensity. Right now, Zatanna and Hal were flying around it, distracting it from crashing buildings and trying (in vain) to find any vulnerability it might have. The rest of the heroes positioned themselves in the penthouse of a building the monster had already passed by some time ago and partially destroyed, giving the building an open, picturesque panorama of the city instead of one of its walls.

*Ping*

Constantine flinched, hastily pulling out his phone and opening a revived chat with Danny.

> Five minutes.
12:23

John voiced the message, frowning and biting his lip with an unpleasant, anxious feeling. Danny had never answered so briefly before. It was usually a sentence of at least ten words, and it didn't matter what the question was. Batman, also intimately familiar with Danny's manner of communication, stepped closer and reread the message as if he couldn't believe it.
Although, in fact, he had been answering in that style for the last two months of his absence. What's more, he rarely responded, sometimes even days after the message. It looked like Danny was really very busy with something.
Clark tensed, tossing his gaze between them. He hadn't had the pleasure of seeing a teenager as often as these two. He hadn't even been given a space phone, so he had to rely on them for everything... But even he knew that for Danny, just two words in a message was nonsense.

"Is something wrong?" Arrow finally put his rag away and returned his bow to the mount on his back.

"Hey, is five minutes for him, or five minutes for us, because if for him, it's two and a half..."

Flash didn't have time to finish, because Constantine ruffled and shrugged, feeling the fabric of the universe tear up beside them. A familiar portal parted the air and, parting the green slit with his hands, the Phantom stepped into the circle of heroes.
And then Constantine suddenly thought that he couldn't frown any harder (but he would try).

This was not the Danny they were used to seeing.
And Constantine couldn't even tell if it was the unblinking Lazarus green eyes, the corpse-pale skin, the armor-like attire, or the bulky crown of ice that hovered over his head that made him uneasy. Either Danny wanted to impress them today (which he'd succeeded brilliantly), or he'd been busy with something really important before.
Perhaps his previously childish behavior and constant non-business visits had made them all a little forget who the boy really was.

Danny looked around, raising an eyebrow in mute question with weary irritation. Superman silently pointed him to a breach in the wall, and Danny turned around, noticing the setting and the monster frolicking among the ruins of the block. The Lantern circled around him in a green blur, occasionally creating large walls in front of the monster's face. Occasionally flashes of Zatanna's spells flew at it from the ground, leaving rapidly healing spots on its body.

"Ephialt." Danny muttered, swimming toward the breach. His voice sounded strange, with a slight otherworldly echo that rang right through the heads of those who heard it. "And I wondered: where had that piece of shit gone?"

He looked at the heroes, forcing himself to smile guiltily. The snow-white hair, which spat on the existence of gravity, waved easily with the movements of his head. The soft glow emanating from his entire body faded against the bright midday sky.

"Are there many casualties?"

"People only have scratches. Also several million dollars worth of property." Batman answered, standing beside him, watching out of the corner of his eye and noting all the new details in Danny's appearance.

Apart from his facial features and the skull ring on his thumb, there was almost nothing familiar about him. From his feet to his neck, his entire body was encased in a sleek, all-black armor of unknown metal, thin enough not to make his figure look any larger than it was. Nevertheless, Batman had no doubt that this metal could not be penetrated so easily. A dark green cloak with exquisite fur trim and white lining was the only color in the outfit. It was slung carelessly over one shoulder and floated weightlessly in the air behind his back, yielding to the flow of the ghostly wind and completely ignoring the real wind that blew into the room from a breach in the wall.
The crown, made of clear bluish ice crystals, seemed too big for his head and would surely have dropped directly onto his shoulders if it had stopped hovering.

"Do you know this guy?" Constantine asked, standing on the other side of Danny.

"Oh, yeah." The boy grimaced, and for a moment the solemn regal image dissipated, revealing the tired and emotional Danny they knew "This is Ephialt, one of the demon nobles. He and a few other bastards recently decided to try and start a revolution..."

"A revolution?"

"Yeah. They've been planning it for, like, four years. They want to overthrow me. First they poisoned me, then they tried to stab me in my sleep, then they laid siege to the castle, and when that didn't work, they shit themselves and hid in different worlds... Anyway, I've been very busy these past few months."

"Poisoned?"

"Stabbed in sleep?"

Superman and Diana asked it back almost simultaneously. Constantine, spitting at the unceremoniousness of this gesture, grabbed Danny's arm and yanked him toward him, peering into his face and trying to find some sign of injury. Batman, whose gaze has become several hundred pounds heavie, rexamined Phantom's figure from the sidelines. He squeaked frightenedly and wrenched his arm free, warily swimming away from them all.
Unfortunately, it was quite impossible to tell from Danny's appearance whether he was healthy or still experiencing any effects of the two assassination attempts. His skin was as white as paper, which might well have been the norm for a ghost. His pupils were constricted regardless of light, his breathing was absent, as was his pulse. The only thing that Clark could orient himself on was the barely audible humming of the ghostly core. It was irregular, stuttering slightly, and sounded tired. But then again, Clark had no medical reference point to determine how unhealthy such a kernel sound was for a ghost.

"Are you all right now?" In a carefully controlled calm voice, Batman asked.

"I'm fine."

Did anyone standing in this room believe it? No.

Constantine, like a hesitant mother of many children, sighed heavily (the present mother of many children-Betman did not sigh, because he knew that it does not work on children).

"If you're not feeling well, you'd better go home." Said John, looking at Danny seriously. "Just lend us a couple of your knights to deal with Ephialtes..."

"No." Phantom frowned, the echo in his voice rattling a little. "It's a long time. Ephialtes alone is no threat."

The heroes were ready to argue with that, but remained silent (though Arrow and Flash chuckled sourly).

"He's here because he tried to get away from me. Stupid idiot. I can handle it in a few minutes."

Constantine clenched his jaw. Well, if that's the case, then let Danny really deal with the demon. But he doesn't like it.

"Ask Miss Zatanna and Mr. Green Lantern to step back."

The next instant, the Phantom was a couple of dozen feet above Ephialtes' head, waiting for Hal and Zatanna to retreat and join the rest of the heroes. The demon hadn't noticed anything yet, and Constantine guessed that Danny was deliberately concealing his presence.
And then he just stopped doing it, like flicking a switch.
John staggered back.
Even from that distance, the heavy viscous aura that spread around nearly knocked him down. It was as if a ton of icy water had fallen on him.
Zatanna felt no better. Even Diana, who had very little to do with magic, felt it.

But it was Ephialtes who felt the worst. Standing directly below Phantom, he collapsed to his knees with a rumbling, low roar, and it definitely sounded like he was terrified.

H̶͈̗͇̞̯͔̜̗̦͓͎̘͛̎̈́̈̋i҉͙͙̗̥̰̈̇̄̅

The words, the sounds coming from the King, were so distorted that it was impossible to make them out. It probably wasn't even English.

D̴̟̱͕̩̤͍̮̥̖͌̃̍̎͌̇͆͛i̷̬̪̝͍̠̲̰͉̘͔̤̙͌͐͂̅d̴͎̩̱̖͍́̈͊̃ͅͅ y̷͓͇͓̘͈̬͓̱͙̘͌͂͌́̒̓͊̓̆́o̵͚̩͕̰̩̟̞̦̪̙̟͋̎͋̓̒̊u҉͈͚̱̖̥̱͈̩͚̾͗̍̾́̓̈́̄ m̵̝̝̲͉̋͆̽̈́̓ͅͅi҈̞̠͈̫̀̀̎̅̄̑̽ș̸̟̤̜͉͎̩̮͆̑̐̌̈̌̓́͑s҉͇̮̘̳̠͇̖̩̙̝̠͛̿̍̍̅̇̏̇̋͋̈͋ͅ m̸͖͍͖̝̯̗͚̜͛̄̀̅e̷̘̫̗̭̘̖̙͓͉͙͖͗̇̀͛̒?҉̲̤̬̝̬̜̗͈̒̒̽͂̏͂

Danny's little body began to grow and stretch out rapidly, and now it was the giant serpentine deity the cultists were so eager to see. Only, it seemed to get even bigger than before. Ephialtes, who had once seemed enormous, was now like a gopher frozen in front of a snake.
The phantom wrapped its tail like an anaconda around the demon's body, and the demon offered no resistance, mesmerized by the green stars in its eyes that stared at it.
The space around them began to crack, like broken glass. Shards of space crumbled down, revealing a black-green underside with purple tongues of flame.
The rings of the tail began to shrink. There was a sickening crunch of bones, and the demon suddenly shrieked, twitching in its trap, but of course it was too late.
Gray-green blood, like the juice of a rotten fruit, poured into the black cracks, making a hissing sound as it hit the pockets of purple flame.

Danny is cruel, Constantine thought, writhing at the disgusting sounds. It was a good thing they'd ordered the Young Justice League to wait in reserve on the outskirts of town instead of right here - maybe teenagers shouldn't have to see this kind of thing.

Because it looks like Danny is pissed as hell right now.

D̵͎̖̗̦̰͓̣̱͛͒͆̽͆̈́̾̀̍̏i҉͉̝̳͓͍̲̭̪̃͋̓͒͑̉͌͛͐͌͊̌e̶̮̥̠̞̣̳̬̳̦̝̮͙͑̋͊̈͑͒̑̃̄̈́ f҈̫̠̣̯͇̜̰͓͍̱̏͋͂̒̿̆͂̂̈͂̔ő̶̘̭̭̤̯̤͇̓̀͋̃̑́̇͂r҈͓͓̜̍͊̓̈͂͐̓͗̆́̈̌ͅe̴̲̝̳̠̖̽͛͊̎̉́v̷̤͔̖͈̳͈̦̘̳͎̙̔̋̿̑̐̒̓̿͑̅̃é̴̪͎̭͍̠̠̯̭̬̑͆̑͒̐̌̿̚̚r̶̞̲͎̗͍̖͋̈́̊̿̔͌̉̇̓

The King's clawed fingers gripped Ephialt's horns, and with a final death squeal, the demon's head and part of its spine were ripped from its body. The black rings of its tail clenched sharply, the carcass crumpled like a soda can with a loud crunch. Pieces of meat, blood, and other fluids splattered in all directions, disappearing with a hiss in the shards between worlds.
The body, shrunk to almost three times its size, was squeamishly thrown into a large black hole in the ground.

The phantom slowly shrank back to its former form, a small dot hovering in the sky, waiting for the rifts to heal.

As all the cracks in the face of creation festered, Superman saw Danny look doubtfully in their direction. Oh no, he's not going to run away after this, is he?
Fortunately, a somewhat grim and frustrated Danny did return, slowly swimming up and dropping to the floor near the rift. He looked a little wrinkled and emaciated, the glow from his body almost gone. The guy looked at the heroes frowning, twisting the ring on his thumb in a nervous habit. Oh, was he expecting judgment?

"Well," John took out a cigarette and snapped his fingers to light it, taking a very deep puff. "At least we don't have to get rid of the body. Thanks for not eating it, at least."

Flash chuckled nervously, and Danny's shoulders relaxed a little.

"I'm not eating anyone else." He rolled his eyes. "They get stuck in my teeth, it's unpleasant."

Constantine hummed, imagining it. Yeah, I guess having the remains of a person/demon/whatever stuck between your teeth does cause some discomfort.

The smirk was instantly gone from his face when a trickle of bright green blood flowed from Danny's nose.

Danny blinked, quickly pulling the gauntlet off his hand and pressing his fingers to his upper lip.

"Kid, what's the matter?" began a tense Hal, for the bleeding continued and...

With a short muffled groan, Danny dropped to his knees and bent in half in a fit of nausea, spitting out something green and red.
Batman, who was standing closest, stooped down next to him the same second, pulling tissues from his pouch and ordering someone to get drinking water immediately. Danny shuddered twice more in gagging, luckily they were almost dry. Whatever it was that made him vomit came out the first time.
Bruce helped him up on his slightly trembling legs and led him to a nearby chair. Gave him some tissues and opened a bottle of water Barry had brought.
Everything was happening in a tense silence and on the verge of panic from everyone else.

"Better?" Bruce asked quietly as the boy took a few sips from the bottle.

Danny's eyes were covered and he waved his hand weakly and nodded, keeping his head down and pressing a crumpled napkin to his nose. If the graying skin meant anything, he looked like he was about to faint.

Constantine frowned worriedly. He cast a glance at the puddle of what came out of Danny. He wasn't particularly versed in vomit, but it looked bad. Why did those dark red things look like flower petals? They can't be those flowers, can they? Danny's blood is green, doesn't that also mean he has a hemorrhage in his stomach? Even if not, any way you look at it, it still sucks.

Danny drank some more water and took the napkin away from his face, checking to see if the blood had stopped.

"Uh, okay, that was bad." He mumbled in a weak voice, leaning back in his chair.
To his relief, the grayness began to fade from his face, but the sickly green hue on his cheeks remained.

"What did you say you were poisoned with?" John asked in as soft a voice as possible.

Danny looked at him a little hysterically, then at Batman, a motionless grim figure frozen next to the chair.

"Bloodblossoms poison." There was a quiet reply.

"How long has it been?"

The boy lowered his eyes and muttered dolefully:
"Three and a half months."

There were sighs and indignant mutters. John gritted his teeth.

"And you, still not cured, had to deal with the demon yourself now, didn't you?"

Was he angry, annoyed? Yeah, maybe a little. Mostly, of course, he was angry at those who dared to poison Danny. And a little at Danny himself for not caring about his health.
Danny himself didn't seem to like the tone of the conversation, because he looked up at Constantine, suddenly cold, and said quietly:

"Yes, I should have. If it wasn't for me, you would have had your fun with him until the end of time.

Constantine swallowed, not wanting to back down so easily. Batman was in general agreement with his point of view, but still mentally advised the occultist to shut up. Because he was standing pretty damn close to Danny and could feel the air temperature starting to drop just fine.

"And you couldn't call the Fright Knight? Somebody else from the guard?"

"No," Phantom answered through gritted teeth.
But then he ran his hand over his face tiredly, sighed, and explained less hostile:
"I told you the conspirators are hiding in the corners. Frighty and anyone strong enough are busy looking for them. And since the King's castle needs vigilant protection now, too, I can't take a few guardsmen out of their seats. I was your only option."

After a little silence, he smiled wickedly and added:
"I even had a little fun. Everybody's on the plus side."

"Danny did the smart thing." Diane suddenly declared, surprising some people. "Any one of us would have done the same thing in a situation like that."

She looked at her colleagues, as if urging them to object. But everyone was silent, their eyes downcast. Only Flash smiled shamelessly - yes, he was willing to admit it was true. What would a hero choose between his own and someone else's welfare? Silly question.

"So I'm the only one who finds it strange that a king who has already been assassinated attempt twice is fucking alone and gets into a fight? I can't believe it!" Constantine spluttered his hands.

He was ignored.

"Anyway, if the effects of poisoning last for three months, you should pay more attention to yourself." Batman said patiently, taking the bottle and handing Danny another napkin so he could wipe the blood residue off his lip.

"I'm not going to die from this."

"Probably not." Bruce had expected such an answer. "But your effectiveness as a leader and warrior is much lower now, isn't it?"

Danny wrinkled his nose unhappily.

"How normal is that, after all this time since the poisoning? "

"Within normal for a ghost, if it's the poison I think it is." Zatanna spoke up, peering over her shoulder at the petals in the pool of vomit.

Throwing a sharp look at her, Danny was about to say something warning, but flinched, turning around in his chair and looking behind his back.

The air in the middle of the empty room parted to the sides as the green portal opened. It was not at all what either of them would have expected, but none of the heroes twitched because Danny looked surprised, but calm enough.

Pushing the edges of the slit open with his free hand, a new ghost entered the world.
It was a rather large humanoid creature in a purple cloak and blue skin, a translucent tail instead of legs, and a large fancy staff in his hands.
Its head turned toward Danny, a restrained smile on its unimpressive scarred face.

"Daniel." he greeted, sailing off to the side to apparently let someone else through the portal.

Several people blinked, because whoever appeared next looked like a good copy of Danny. Same pale skin, same slit green lazarus eyes, same freckles. Except he had longer hair and a more feminine figure.

"Oh, God, there are two of them now..." John muttered unhappily.

The girl carefully jumped to the floor, her armor, very similar to Phantom's, clanking softly. And for some reason she was covered from head to toe in gray-green spray. Even her long, snow-white hair, gathered in a high ponytail, was no longer so snow-white. She squinted incredulously at the people as she slowly approached Danny.

"Ellie, what are you doing here?"

With a thud Ellie placed a hand in a gauntlet on Phantom's armor-covered shoulder. Silently she looked him over from head to toe.

"Dora sent me. Have you been vomiting again?"

"Why did you dragged Clokwork?" He ignored the question and asked in response, lifting his hand and wiping the gray-green substance from her chin with a napkin.

"I dare say it was me who 'dragged' Danielle here." The blue-skinned ghost quipped.

There was a puzzled whisper behind me between Flash and Arrow about 'Danielle' and 'Daniel'.

"Yeah, it took me ten minutes to get him to open the portal to you. You're good at hiding." The girl looked up at Batman while she put her hand on the hilt of the long sheathed sword hanging on her belt. "Are these your new friends? Are they the ones you've been running off to lately?"

Danny rolled his eyes, nudging the girl on the hip with his elbow. He looked at Batman and the others.

"This is Ellie. My little sister." He explained, pointing a finger at Ellie.

"Beloved little sister." She leaned against him, smirking cheekily at the heroes.

"The only little sister."

"Princess Ellie, then?" Wonder Woman asked, standing next to Bruce. "I'm Diana, princess of the Amazons."

Ellie was quite a tall girl, seemingly even a few inches taller than Danny. She instantly dismissed the suspicious look and looked at Diana with a happy smile, she almost didn't even have to raise her head to do so as she straightened up.

"Uh-oh, technically I'm a knight, but I like the princess too!" Ellie reached out her hand and joyfully shook Diana's hand in a handshake. "You're awesome!"

"Technically, you are a princess, because your older brother is a king." Danny corrected her as he put his arm around her waist. "And practically, you're a knight, yes."

"Oh Ancients, I don't care. I'll be a princess now. You must order everyone to address me only as such."

Batman shifted slightly to keep an eye on all three ghosts in the room. Danny, still a little weak, listened to the conversation that ensued between Ellie and Diana.
None of the arriving couple seemed hostile. Aside from Danny, these were the first ghosts the League had encountered; it was necessary to make the most of this encounter. Apparently, they held very high positions in the realms. Besides the title of the younger sister of the current king and princess, Ellie Phantom (?) was a knight, that's interesting. Another famous sister, Jazmine, is also most likely a princess, did she also hold any position?
Danny's younger sister, among other things, turned out to be quite talkative - Diana was bombarded with more and more questions and funny details from the many battles Ellie went through. Funny, of course, they were only for her - Bruce didn't find the severed limbs and talking ghost heads funny. Neither did Diana, but she kept up a polite conversation.

The ghost, whose name was supposed to be Clockwork, regarded the interior and furnishings beyond the rift in the wall with passive interest.
Bruce had already heard several mentions of him from Danny's lips. Apparently, King had a deep respect for this ghost. Clockwork seemed calm, wistful, and tired. Not like Danny, tired not physically, but rather emotionally. He must have lived a very long life (a non-life).

Clockwork turned his head, and his red eyes squinted slightly in a semblance of a smile. Given his lack of pupils, it was creepy, but Bruce appreciated the gesture. It looked like approval.

"My king, my princess, we must return to mobile headquarters." Said the ghost, not responding to the ensuing moan of disappointment from Ellie.

Danny sighed wearily, but obediently stood up; his legs were still unsteady. Ellie put her strong arm around his waist, keeping him on his feet.

"Diane, I really liked you! Danny has a sweatshirt with your symbols on it, now I'm going to steal it!"

The phantom mumbled protestingly as she led him toward the new portal that Clockwork had opened. John raised an eyebrow in surprise, realizing he was talking about those old pajamas he'd given to Danny.

"Don't you dare! It's a cool sweatshirt, I'll fight for it!"

Ellie gritted her sharp teeth merrily and shoved her brother into Clockwork, who pushed back the edge of the portal. Putting a hand on Danny's waist for support, he stepped into the portal with the grumbling teenager.
After lingering at the edge for a moment, the girl turned back to heroes.
She frowned slightly, her face suddenly serious. It was a striking change from the recent naughty, chatty girl.

"He likes you very much. I'm a little jealous." she said quietly, putting her hand back on the hilt of her sword and stroking the hilt nervously with her thumb. "Brother was young and weak, and when he needed help, there weren't any normal adults around. It's too late for that now, but it must be cool that he met you. Just don't you fucking dare think he's stupid or feeble-minded because he gets attached fast." Her eyes lit up menacingly with green Lazarus. "I'm not talking about me, not even about Danny. I'm talking about Jazz. Believe me, big sister is terrible in anger. Ciao cocoa."

And she disappeared into the portal. But a few seconds later she half popped back out, looking less threatening but more gloating.

"Ah yes, Constantine, I'm looking forward to you dying and becoming a ghost. There's a whole huge pile of agricultural documents lying around, and Danny plans to make you take. it. all. apart. I dream of capturing your face when you see it! Good luck ♡"

She disappeared again, this time for good, because the portal was immediately overgrown.

"Oh, Johnny, you don't seem to have to worry about your afterlife." Arrow grinned. "They even got you a job. Don't you want to hurry to the afterlife?"

John did not answer, tossing an extinguished cigarette butt at the archer.

----------------------

> Oh Ancients, I am so ashamed! Forgive Ellie, she can't keep her mouth shut sometimes and talks all sorts of idiotic nonsense. I hope she didn't say anything stupid or offensive. She probably didn't mean what she said... though no, that's exactly what she meant... Ancients, I'm very sorry for her.
13:23

> It's all right, Danny. Your sister didn't say anything strange. Should I expect you for dinner this Sunday?
13:25

> Oh, yes. I'll be free by then for sure. I missed Alfred's cooking terribly. I'll definitely be there.
13:29

> See you Sunday then, Danny.
13:31

> 🤩
13:32

***

Neither this nor the following Sunday did Danny show up.

Chapter Text

When the next big call came in, they were unprepared for it. It was only by sheer coincidence that a few strong attackers were in and around the Watchtower when a hysterical call came from Constantine, saying that somewhere in the desert in Nevada there had been a successful summoning of the Ghost King, and that things were... very bad. He didn't give any other details, but the occultist's voice sounded as if he was really hysterical.

As they approached the coordinates, they could still see the summoning site from afar. This time it was completely open terrain, in the middle of a large flat plateau.

 It was half an hour before dawn, and Phantom's huge body was a bit of a blur in the misty morning twilight. It lay motionless on the ground, its smooth white back glowing faintly in the first rays of dawn, contrasting with its black tail, which curled into sloppy rings and seemed tangled in itself. He didn't move. 

This was wrong.

Superman and Green Lantern didn't wait for Javelin to fly around the summoning site in a circle and land.

There were several bodies in robes lying around the bushes nearby, Clark could tell they were alive ... though not all of them. 

Constantine was standing next to the Phantom's head. He was without his famous trench coat, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was covered in dust, dirt, and a little blood. 

John turned around as he heard Clark and Hal approaching. There was desperation on his face. 

"He can't hear me."

From this distance, Phantom seemed even bigger. His body lying on his stomach towered over them like a mountain and was just as disturbingly still. He looked like a beached whale (no that's a terrible analogy, whales beached themselves to die). His head was turned on its side and his neck was bent awkwardly because of the horn resting on the ground. 

Clark slowly approached, looking at Phantom's smooth relaxed face with sudden fear and awe. This close up, it wasn't hard to make out Danny's features in him, though, he still seemed a bit different. Perhaps it was the complete lack of any wrinkles, facial or age-related. Skin perfectly smooth and white as porcelain. There weren't even his pale freckles, just greenish veins showing through the thin skin of his eyelids. 

His eyes are half-closed, and Clark hadn't noticed the long white lashes before, but...

Two green stars that should have been his pupils burned very faintly in the inky void of his eyes.

His crown no longer floated, it lay on the ground nearby. The huge crown, made of sharp, asymmetrical ice blocks, was still glowing brightly and exuded a palpable coldness even from an impressive distance.

Phantom did not react to their approach. Hal paused a little apprehensively ten feet away, looking up at the giant from below, but Superman stepped determinedly toward Constantine, who stood only a few feet from the tip of Phantom's nose. 

Clark couldn't hear the hum of his ghostly core. 

"Something's wrong, and I don't know what it is..." John spoke, running a dirty hand through his hair. "I was a state away when I felt the call. When I got there, I could only see the end."

Constantine cast a glance behind Clark's back, spotting Wonder Woman, Batman, and Nightwing hurrying away from Javelin. J'onn landed nearby a second later, looking over Phantom with obvious concern and trying to read its emotional background.

"He crushed several people when he fell. I pulled out the ones I could, but some are.... are still out there." He waved his hand toward the motionless black tail. Oh, it must weigh tens of tons. "I've tried to talk to it, but it doesn't seem to hear me. I'm not sure if he's even conscious."

"It's hard to read his emotions in this form, I can barely hear them." J'onn said quietly, eyebrows furrowed as she stared into Phantom's estranged eyes. "But he's clearly very weakened, not only physically, but mentally as well."

Glancing once more at his face, Clark quickly rose into the air above the body. One of Phantom's arms was stretched out along his body, the other lying next to his head, the hand bent at an awkward angle. There was no damage on its back, arms, or visible parts of its tail. Perhaps there was something where they couldn't see. 

Squinting, Clark activated his x-ray vision, trying to look through it... but immediately recoiled. 

It was a black hole. 

It was as if a silhouette had been cut out in space, like a sheet of paper, without bothering to fill in the details. It was slowly absorbing the light around it, the edges of the silhouette rippling and jittering as if Superman's super-eyes couldn't focus, constantly looking past and through the completely black body. 

Come to think of it, this was the first time he was trying to look at Phantom with X-ray vision. What was the connection to such an effect...?

After a few seconds, he felt his head begin to ache and a low electric buzzing grow in his ears. 

Clark blinked several times, releasing the tension from his eyes. When he looked again at the Phantom's motionless back ... he blinked once more. Slowly, as if in slow motion, extensive bruising and obvious burns began to blossom on the white skin. Clark could see small and larger scratches scratching his arms and shoulders right now, the first green peas of blood already beginning to accumulate on them. 

"Oh shit!" came Hal's shriek, followed almost immediately by the quick voices of Constantine, Bruce, and Dick. 

Clark hurried back to the others, landing next to Green Lantern, who was examining Phantom's torso from the ground. The question, "What else happened?" stuck in his throat as he saw the green blood slowly soaking the ground around Phantom's abdomen.

Damn, so he was wounded in the front of his body after all.... It would be very difficult to turn him over, and dangerous as well - the wound was most likely serious, careless movement would make it worse. Not to mention that even with Hal's help, it would be extremely difficult for them to transport him. And where could they transport him while he was in this form...? 

They have to make him shrink. 

Clark flew up to Danny's head. J'onn and Diana had disappeared, probably gone to prepare the medbay in Javelin just in case, but Bruce and Dick were still here, trying to reach Phantom. Constantine, clutching at his hair, stared in absolute horror at the ever-increasing injuries that kept appearing.

Superman noticed the long, fresh scratch that cut diagonally across his cheek, and noticed the dark stain of green blood slowly but steadily soaking into his temple hair. 

"This isn't... it shouldn't be like this..." John barely audibly mumbled as he watched a drop of blood roll down his cheek from a small but rather deep scratch under his eyebrow. "If all this trauma is transferring to this form..."

He cut himself short, wincing with a stunned expression on his face. No one was going to demand an explanation now. They could guess for themselves what it meant - absolutely nothing good.

"Danny," Clark called out, hovering close to the elven's outstretched ear. "Danny, please. We need you to shrink."

Standing just below, Bruce repeated almost the same words, trying to find a modicum of realization in the indifferent dull eyes. He reached out and dared to place his palm on Phantom's cheek, avoiding any scratches or bruises, instantly feeling the cold piercing through his glove. Danny's skin was very cold. 

"Come on, buddy," he asks, patting his hand gently on his icy cheek. "Wake up. You gotta help us help you."

And either Bruce's words found some kind of echo in his clouded mind or it was a touch, but after a few agonizingly long moments, Danny's eyelashes fluttered and he blinked slowly. 

Clark turned around, relieved to see Phantom's back rise in a leisurely inhale. He exhaled the icy air tiredly, causing all the people standing in front of him to become covered in hoarfrost. 

The green lights in his eye sockets blinked and lit up a little brighter, absent-mindedly looking away from where they had been staring blankly before. 

"Yeah, buddy, way to go." Constantine stretched out encouragingly, patting Danny gently on the forehead and trying not to gnash his teeth against the cold. "Good morning, kid. Now all you have to do is shrink."

Phantom stared at him for a few seconds, the light in his eyes wavering as he obviously tried to focus. He frowned slightly, taking another breath and opening his mouth as if he was about to say something. His body tensed as he moved his hand to lean on it, but as he shuddered, he immediately collapsed, exhaustedly exhaling another cloud of frosty air. 

Clark frowned, glancing toward Hal, who was still panicking near Phantom's stomach, as if trying to force the blood back into its owner's body. The faintly glowing green puddle was already frighteningly large, the level of blood loss was rapidly approaching dangerously high. They don't have donor blood for ghosts.

"Danny, God, please, just shrink down, don't move!"

"Yeah, kiddy, just shrink down to human size, we'll take it from here!"

Phantom blinked slowly once more, shifting his eyebrows and trying to focus his gaze on someone else who was speaking. A slowly maturing blue-green bruise on his jaw, just below the left corner of his lips, made his expression sad and confused. It's clearly a bruise from a fist bump.

"Buddy, you need to shrink down." For what seemed like the hundredth time, Batman repeated in a firm voice, keeping his hand resting on the icy cheek, ignoring the fact that his fingers were already starting to go numb.

Managing to focus briefly, Phantom shifted his gaze to the side, looking at his ice crown. His mouth twisted painfully, exposing rows of long white teeth, causing Nightwing to recoil involuntarily. With another tremendous effort, Danny, ignoring Constantine's cries - demanding that he stop moving, damn it - reached out, nearly knocking Hal over. A hoarse static noise hit their ears as Phantom exhaled through his teeth with a groan, clenching his fingers on the sharp edges of the crown. 

His eyes flashed brightly, and his huge body came into motion. 

He had transformed - they realized with relief, hurriedly stepping aside and watching him shrink inside himself. Hovering above it all, Clark waited anxiously for the long tail to retract and disappear, trying to make out Danny's real body in this semi-physical writhing mass. 

Finally, it stopped. 

He was lying flat where his huge body had the center of his chest. Clark felt his insides twist with horror. The green blood that had soaked the ground beneath Phantom hadn't gone anywhere. Judging by the size of the stain, the bleeding was all over the front of his torso...

Superman landed swiftly beside the small body. 

To his relief, Clark could hear the faint stuttering hum of his core again, but that was the only relief. 

Danny was completely naked. 

Every vertebra and rib protruded on his painfully skinny back, several extensive bruises bruised the thin white skin, but worse than the rest was the large lumpy burn between his shoulder blades. The injuries were exactly the same as they'd seen on the larger body.

On the other side of Danny, Diana dropped to her knees with a sprint, raising her arms and nervously looking over the child's skinny body, unsure of the best way to get a good grip to safely turn him over. Bruce lowered himself silently beside his head, the others looming excitedly behind him. Clark tore off his cloak and spread it on the ground at the Amazon's side. Diana gently but firmly squeezed Danny's shoulders, and Clark took him by the hips. The two of them quickly and carefully rolled him over onto his back-.

Halfway through the motion, Clark realized how bad it was.

"Stop!" he cried out, looking in horror at what had to be part of his intestines. What was definitely supposed to be inside. 

If they continued, all the organs that had previously been pinned between his body and the ground might squeeze completely out of the wound. 

He was frantically trying to think, in the background hearing Bruce's convulsive sigh as he held Danny's head in a neck-safe position. Fuck, Superman wasn't a doctor, he only knew how to administer first aid...

"Clark, he needs to be turned over." Diana said quietly. From her position behind Danny's back, she couldn't see what Kent saw, but she realized what was wrong. 

J'onn lowered himself silently next to Superman, dropping the opened first aid kit beneath him. He held his hands, already wearing medical gloves, overhead, leaning down to the ground to assess the extent of the disaster in more detail. 

"Penetrating wound to the abdomen, extending to the chest..." he stated in a carefully neutral voice. "Part of the small intestine is outside, I don't see any organ damage, but I assume there is some. There's a lot of blood. I'll clamp the wound with telekinesis, turn it over."

In one swift, fluid motion, they put Denny on his back.

He was unconscious again. Because of the amount of blood already on the ground, the child's relaxed face and white bangs were dirty with wet sand and debris, but what was the entire front of his torso...

Behind them, Hal threw up right on the spot. To his credit, he tried to be as quiet as possible while a very pale Dick patted him on the back. Constantine stood silently, pressing his fist to his tightly closed lips and looking at Danny with big eyes.

It wasn't just a wound. It was an autopsy incision. He'd been cut open.

"Hal, we need a stretcher." Diana commanded, her face cold and focused. J'onn went to work immediately, pulling out gauze bandages and tompons, going to secure the organs that had been squeezed out.

The biggest problem now didn't even seem to be the wound itself (which was certainly monstrous), but the amount of earth and sand stuck to it because of the blood. There was a lot of work to be done to thoroughly clean the wound of foreign objects, because even one missed grain of sand could cause an infection... not to mention the fact that they have no idea how to treat a ghost. Because of the general external similarities, they might have assumed that a treatment for humans should work. But that could be a mistake. They don't know. And there's no one to find out...

Suddenly Bruce remembered the ghost phone. That one was in the Tower now, and it had one contact that could theoretically help. Jazmin. Jaz. Danny's older sister. 

He quickly pulled away so as not to interfere with Clark and Diana moving Denny onto the stretcher Hal had created. Batman acted almost mindlessly, removing his cape and covering the child's bare legs with it, automatically cataloging all the injuries on Danny's body that he could now see. It was hard enough, considering all the dirt and blood smeared over the skinny body. But there was plenty of that already.

What had happened to Danny? Who had done this? How had it happened? Why did it happen? Why...

They were half-running toward Javelin. Clark flew forward to take the pilot's seat so they wouldn't waste any time getting Danny situated in the plane's medbay. 

Bruce, pulling off his gloves as he went and tossing them somewhere to the side, immediately rushed to clean towels, bandages and disinfectant wipes. He would leave the main wound to Diana and J'onn, but unfortunately there were enough injuries beyond that that needed to be treated as soon as possible.  

The Javelin took to the air, barely had Danny been placed on one of the two bunks. They couldn't secure him with restraints, given the extent and location of his injuries. Dick, who had already treated his hands with antiseptic, took some of Bruce's wipes to deal with the wounds on his legs while Bruce himself positioned himself at his head, gently cleaning the child's face.

Danny was unresponsive to anything and seemed completely dead.

Diana's hands shuddered slightly as she proceeded to the wound on his chest.

J'onn sent her a mental reassurance, hiding the trembling of her own fingers.

Constantine sat on a nearby bunk with a completely defeated expression, absent-mindedly twirling an extra bottle of antiseptic in his hands. 

Hal sat in the co-pilot's seat but didn't touch the controls, staring blankly out the front window at the passing clouds as the plane climbed gently into the stratosphere.

Clark stared ahead in concentration. One of the helm knobs cracked slightly as his bloody fingers clenched a little tighter.

Neither of them said another word, and the plane was returning to the Watchtower in ominous silence.

***

Nine days back in Earth time

"...what happened...?"

"...I don't know... Hey, baby... can you hear me..?"

"... it looks weird..."

"... don't touch it..."

Ellie was floating in the dark. Her limbs were heavy and immobile and her whole body stiff with exhaustion. She could barely feel the slight pushes and touches as those who spoke next to her carried her somewhere. Struggling to think and listen to the tense chatter, she soon realized it was Skulker, Ember, and Kitty.

"...scooping into the castle, I heard that Frostbite..."

"...watch out..."

"...Ellie, baby, you need to wake up..."

A gentle touch cooled her cheek and chin.

"...ancient, this doesn't look good..."

"...o, come on, or we wouldn't have noticed!..."

Her senses slowly returned as she came to her senses. Unfortunately, the pain was almost the first thing to return in full force. It was as if her right hand was in a pot of water placed on a slow fire. The temperature gradually increased until it reached boiling point. 

Letting out a low, hoarse groan that sounded pathetic even by her standards, Ellie tried to move her hand to get it the hell out of the boiling water. 

It only made it worse as the inflamed and scarred skin and muscles strained. She moaned louder and more pitifully this time. Perhaps if she'd had the strength to get more air into her lungs or open her mouth wider, she might have even cried out. 

All movement and voices stopped. 

"... why are you up?" Ember's sharp voice cut through the veil of pulling pain. "Move faster!"

Whoever was holding her (Skulker most likely, judging by the firm grip and the metal breastplate her cheek was pressed against) strengthened his grip, and Ellie felt herself moving again as the metaphorical wind of the Zone cooled her face slightly. She hadn't realized until now that she was sweating rather profusely, but the cool air felt good on her damp, heated skin. That was clearly the least of her problems, though. The pain and burning crept steadily up her arm, to her chest, to her core, coiling around it in thin, hot whips.

The direction of the pain seemed familiar to her... it teased her clouded brain with a memory very close at hand. Something she should know well. 

She clenched her eyes tighter, trying to deal with the new wave of burning that rose from her knuckles.

An old memory suddenly appeared before her eyes. She and Danny sitting on the soft couch in Sam's playroom. It had been terribly hot that day, the air conditioner had broken the day before and no one had fixed it, so they'd just opened all the windows, draping them with dark curtains to keep out the sun. A faint draft swayed them slightly, and the blazing rays of the midday sun came in through the gaps. Ellie was wearing only a short, loose, strapless dress-she'd borrowed it from Sam, who wasn't going to wear it anyway ("it's not black, it's graphite, it's unacceptable"). She's not happy, the joystick resting disappointedly in her lap as she stares unfocused into the screen of the ridiculously huge TV. The fan pointed directly at them is working hard, and she's damn grateful for it - the flow of cool air pleasantly ruffles her bangs and refreshes her sweaty face. Ellie turns her head to say something to Danny. She doesn't remember exactly what she wanted to say (maybe she just wanted to call him a jerk once again, because he's disgustingly good at Mortal Combat and refuses to give in). But she remembers the image of him, with his black bangs just as wet and sticking to his forehead. Danny shoving fruit ice into his mouth (she remembers a nasty sweet drop rolling down his chin), holding the joystick on the hoverboard and achieving fatalities on Milina. He's wearing short shorts and a tank top that completely reveals his wiry arms and shoulders. In the semi-darkness of the room, you can see Lichtenberg's thin, pale scars creeping up his left arm, braiding the skin and twisting into a knot near his heart.

Danny.

Her eyes widened sharply

For the first few seconds, she saw nothing.

"Hey, Ellie, baby..."

Cool fingers were on her face again, and she turned her head slightly toward the voice. A mound of green hair gradually came into her field of vision. Then it was a lighter blur of a face with red eyes and a completely concerned expression. Kitty. 

Ignoring Ember's pain and protests in the background, Ellie raised her injured hand and clutched at the sleeve of Kitty's jacket, squeezing her fingers and literally feeling her skin break and peel off. Kitty's face becomes frightened. Out of the corner of her eye, she also notices Skulker's robotic face with the same awkward expression of concern, but it doesn't matter now.

"D-danny..." she grits her teeth, fighting the agony in her arm. "He's inside..."

She has to clench her jaw tightly and use all her strength to keep from screaming at the top of her voice. A brief glance at her hand makes it clear that it looks as bad on the outside as it feels on the inside. She didn't even immediately realize that those black and green meaty embers were her hand. 

Sculker and Kitty's lamentations are drowned in cotton-candy ringing. If she had a heart right now, it would be beating ten times faster than it needs to (Ellie doesn't remember the exact moment she turned ghost). Insistent pats on her cheeks barely keep her from passing out again.

When she opens her watery eyes, she sees the King's Castle up ahead. 

"...Danny has entered the portal ..." she tries again, barely moving her tongue and barely recognizing her own voice. "...he's inside... they're-- they're going to do something to him..."

"Shh, Ellie, baby," Kitty's pitiful muttering sounds above her again. "We'll go there as soon as we give you to old man Frostbite. I promise."

"Yes, Baby-pop and the Fentons won't be able to get rid of us." Amber's angry voice came from the front, but the ill-concealed note of fear rattling in her voice pricked Ellie's core painfully.

The girl tiredly covered her eyes as they, accompanied by the excited cries of the guards, flew swiftly under the archway of the main gate. 

She had screwed up. 

Again. 

She could only wish now that Danny hadn't had to pay too heavy a price for her fatal stupidity and shortsightedness (she dared not even hope that they could all get away with it).

***

Amity Park had been locked down. The Fentons' portal and the entire area within a radius of about fifty kilometers of the city center became a ghost-free zone. No one who knew how to open portals could get in - an impregnable red shield always waited beyond the rift of space, preventing any ghost from getting through. 

Jazmine squinted, standing at the edge of the forest. Wulf, ears perked and whimpering softly, shuffled from foot to foot beside her. 

If she concentrated, she could see a huge hemisphere of transparent red dome covering the city and its surroundings. Only a few country farms remained outside, everything else, even the "welcome to Amity" sign, was inside. 

The ectoplasm that permeated her liminal body hummed warily. 

Jazz couldn't get through either. 

She knew she had spent too much time around pure sources of ectoplasm, including being in the Zone on a regular basis, to continue to be considered fully human. Now the weaknesses of ghosts were her weaknesses too, for the most part.

She'd tried to go through the dome, really. Unfortunately, the second-degree burn she received while doing so proved that plan a failure (it wasn't about the pain. For Danny's sake, she could endure any pain. But she couldn't help her brother if she was physically incapacitated).

"Let's go back." In a colorless voice she said distantly, feeling relieved at Wolfe hurriedly opening the portal. Jazmin couldn't blame him. Even she, a non-ghost, didn't feel comfortable around this bastard dome (she refused to think yet about how uncomfortable it was for the humans and ghosts trapped inside). 

Wolf, thankfully, didn't need to explain anything - he himself opened a portal to where Jaz needed to go. To the medbay. Silently thanking the werewolf, she walked to one of the rooms.

When she opened the door, she was immediately confronted by Fright Knight, standing in a large guest chair near the entrance like a huge guard dog. The Knight nodded to her with a quiet clank of his armor, and without a word, quickly left the chamber. Jazmine stepped aside, letting the tall black figure pass her. 

The door closed, but the girl stood still for a while, looking at the corner between the wall and the doorjamb.

Frighty must be very worried too. His King is trapped and possibly dead. His apprentice is badly wounded. His subordinates are in turmoil. They're just about done with the "demon epic" (the title is Ellie's own). The Fright Knight will never on his own initiative show his feelings, and Jazz thinks she can help him with that. But not right now. When she herself is in extreme confusion (a very mild definition for absolute silent panic).

Forcing herself to walk to the back of the room, Jazmine lowered herself into the chair next to the headboard with a slow, weary exhale. She rested her elbow on the armrest, habitually tweaking her thumb and biting down on a fingernail. 

Frostbite had given Ellie strong painkillers and she had thankfully slept peacefully for the past four hours. She touched the shield the second it was formed. Good thing it was only her hand. The recoil was so strong that the soft tissue in her arm was charred, even the bones were partially affected. She was lucky that she had unconsciously turned into a ghost and since she was still in the Zone, healing began almost immediately. 

Frostbite is optimistic. Ellie should only need a couple weeks to fully recover.

Ellie would need a whole couple weeks to recover.

There was a quiet click. Jazz froze, jerking her finger away from her teeth. Oh shit, she'd finally bitten off that wretched fingernail. 

Slowly wondering where she could find a nail file to carefully file the stump, she glanced down at Ellie's hand, covered in healing ointment and thin sheets of gauze. The younger girl's face was still covered with a slight painful sweat, but she was already looking better than she had when the terrified Skulker, Ember, and Kitty had brought her to the infirmary. All the way there, until Frostbite gave her painkillers, Ellie whimpered in pain and mumbled about Danny being stuck inside. 

Danny is stuck inside and no one can come to his rescue. 

Jazz could burn all of herself to get through the shield, but that wouldn't help Denny (it would probably make it worse). Ellie would probably lay down her bones beside her, but that won't help either. 

Any of the ghosts are willing to become a handful of ashes for their King, but. that. won't. help.

Of course, they've already tried different ways. The summoning, too. This dome seems to block any attempts at ectoplasmic interaction from outside and inside.

She covered her face with her hands, contemplating sobbing. Or going and stealing the codes to the nukes and blowing the hell out of that dome (which probably wouldn't help at all).

There was a hesitant knock on the door. 

Jazz stared melancholically there for a few seconds, wondering if the best option would be to just ignore it. But three more knocks sounded, more insistent this time. Well, shit. She doesn't want to get out of her seat.

"Come in"

After a two-second pause, the knob slowly turned and a ghost's head poked into the room. She vaguely remembers him as a member of the palace chancery staff. 

"Your Majesty the Queen Regent..."

Jazz jerked at that address, and she didn't hesitate to roll her eyes vigorously in annoyance.

The ghost shrank back, losing its opacity slightly. 

"What's the matter?" Jazz asked in a tired, colorless voice, straightening in her chair. Whatever had happened, it was hardly inconsequential. The ghosts knew better than to bother her about nothing, especially now.

"Mistress Pandora asks to be told that they are waiting for you in the Small Council Chamber."

"Why?" She asked dully, already rising to her feet and feeling an unpleasant ache and heaviness in her shoulders. It was as if the weight of responsibility and the crown (temporary and fake, the Crown of Fire would always belong to Danny) had ceased to be metaphorical and was now trying with all its might to bend her to the ground.

"They are... are discussing the option of declaring war."

Chapter Text

The medbay visitor's room was deathly quiet.

Clark wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. Most likely more than five hours. Time flew quickly and at the same time stood still.

For about the first half hour, he listened carefully to all the sounds on the operation room, listening to the serious, calm voices of the doctors and the slimy sounds of flesh joining together. It didn't last long and eventually he stopped it.

Diana, J'onn and Hal left recently. No matter what, someone must still remain on duty in the Tower.

The only people left to wait were Clark, Bruce, John and Dick.

Clark himself sat at the table, staring blankly at some popular science magazine left here for visitors. Konstantin sat opposite him, throwing his feet up on the tabletop and fiddling with a ghostly phone in his hands, turning it on and off.

Batman and Nightwing were huddled in the back (darkest) part of the room. Bruce, collected as always, sat in a rigid pose in one of the chairs, holding a work tablet in his hands. A ghostly phone lay on his hip, turned off.

As soon as they handed Danny over to the doctors and made sure that they had to do they best, Bruce rushed to his personal belongings to find this phone. He hoped to contact Jazmin. To everyone's despair, it didn't work out. Konstantin too. There was no signal. No messages or calls went through. Something was clearly wrong (besides Danny’s body horror), because earlier the network indicator consistently showed two or three bars.

"Danny said that all the Endless Realms act as a 5g tower for these phones. The Realms come directly from their King, and if Danny is in this state... that could be the primary reason why there is no signal right now." - Constantine said when they first discovered the lack of network.

Hoping for a change, Bruce checked ghostly phone for every fifteen minutes.

Dick, having pulled one of the chairs closer, had been dozing restlessly for the last half hour, leaning against his father's shoulder.

They all jumped when noise and screams were heard from the operation room a little further down the corridor.

Clark, of course, was the first to arrive on the scene, throwing open the large double doors to reveal complete commotion inside.

One of the mobile instrument racks was knocked over, scattering instruments, bandages and soiled cotton swabs on the floor. The lead surgeon stands against the wall, his right protective sleeve torn and the blue fabric quickly beginning to become soaked in blood. One of the assistants fusses around him, helping him remove his equipment.

The lamp located above the table is knocked to the side, its harsh light falls obliquely on the second surgeon and the remaining assistants, who are holding the patient on the surgical table with obvious difficulty.

Clark's heart sank when he saw the insane despair and fear on Danny's face. Completely disoriented, he struggled with two large assistants holding his hands while the surgeon tried to preserve the result of his five-hour work.

The operation was clearly not yet complete: while the internal organs and muscles appeared to be put back in place and stitched together, the outer part of the incision remained open, faintly oozing green blood.

Bruce pushed past him, determinedly heading straight for Danny.

The boy, clearly not fully conscious, cried out weakly, noticing new people and the rapidly approaching large black figure of Batman. He twitched and began to resist even more violently, to which the nurses had to tighten their grip, muttering curses. This drove Danny into even greater despair.

Gesturing for one of the assistants to move away, Bruce carefully grabbed Danny's hand, squeezing his forearm just below his wrist, which was covered in abrasions and small welts. Traces from hard canadals. The splayed fingers with broken claws were covered in red blood. Apparently, it was he who scratched the first surgeon.

“Danny. Danny, look at me please.”

The teenager's wide green eyes darted between people in panic. Dark bruises from blood loss, cheekbones aggravated by hunger and several bandages applied to scratches on the plane did not seem so scary compared to the completely frightened expression on his face and the tears that did not stop flowing down his cheeks.

“Danny.” Bruce repeated in a low, soft voice, trying to stay within the boy's line of sight. “This is Batman. You're in the Watchtower. Please look at me.” He continued to talk, constantly reminding them who he was and where they were. Soon he managed to capture the child's attention. He didn't struggle anymore, looking at Bruce and listening to the gentle admonitions.

The second nurse cautiously let go of Danny's hand, and it fell helplessly onto the edge of the table. The surgeon breathed a sigh of relief.

“You're safe, Denny. You're in the Watchtower. You are not there. You're not there anymore.”

The boy began to shake. Recognition finally appeared in his eyes, but with it came even more tears. His mouth twisted into an expression of severe grief as Danny weakly grabbed Bruce's forearm with his freed hand. He seemed to want to snuggle closer, to receive a hug and comfort, but Bruce gently held him by the shoulders, remembering (it was very difficult to forget) the wound.

They all froze for a few moments as the child shuddered in Batman's arms, silently sobbing, thin, wounded and defenseless on the cold surgical table.

Finally, when Danny's shaking had stopped being hysterical and had become more of a cold shiver (or, more likely, a traumatic shock), Bruce pulled away slightly, squatting down to look up at Danny.

“Hey, buddy. I think we should let the doctors finish their work.”

He adjusted the blue fabric on Danny's legs that had slipped down during the incident.

“Do you think they can use general anesthesia?”

Letting out a long sob, Danny raised a trembling hand to wipe the snot and tears from his face. He finally shook his head, sobbing once more and pressing his palm to his eyes.

“It doesn’t work,” he said in a quiet, broken voice.

“Anesthesia isn’t working for you?”

Danny nodded, removing his hand from his face and looking unfocused at Bruce, opening his mouth to take a slow self-calming breath.

The man frowned, turning over his options in his head. This didn't surprise him, but it was still not very good news. While the most difficult part of the operation may have already been completed, he couldn't imagine that stitching such a large area of skin together could be easy. Especially provided that the patient is conscious and feels everything (Bruce has so far carefully driven away the thoughts that the initial dissection was made while the boy was conscious).

“Do you think anesthesia for people with increased metabolism will work?”

Frowning slightly, Danny shrugged.

“Maybe.” He rustled, wincing from the pain in his throat.

Clark also winced, regretting that he couldn’t even serve Danny water right now. Patients in this condition should not drink, especially immediately after (before? during?) surgery. Such patients, in principle, cannot be conscious, but given the non-standard nature of their situation, some assumptions are possible. Not that anyone could control it.

“I think we should try.” Bruce says, rising to his feet, but still keeping his hands on Danny's shoulders.

Danny's gaze moves after him, the unsteady calm that seems to have appeared on his face is quickly replaced by a new expression of excitement and fear.

“I would... I wouldn't want to fall asleep…”

Bruce feels the cold fingers tighten more desperately on his forearm.

Well okay. He can understand it. However, they may definitely need general anesthesia if they want neat stitches without the risk of them coming apart, causing an abscess, or anything else. But first of all, Bruce would like Danny to go through the whole operation as easily as possible. Well, to what extent is this possible now?

“Danny, I understand. But you're about to go into traumatic shock. I know that you are strong,” he puts his hand on the back of his head, hoping to give him comfort. “You are a very strong guy.” But I don't want you to feel pain.

Danny looks up at him with big green eyes, unconsciously leaning into the touch.

“I can put up with a lot,” he whispers with sudden stubbornness, despite his words, tightening his grip on Bruce’s hand, as if not wanting him to move even a step. “I wasn’t sleeping when they did it.”

Bruce clenches his jaw until his teeth hurt, but in no other way gives away the ocean of rage boiling inside him. That's not news. They had already assumed this, judging by the unevenness of the cuts and the ragged edges of the wound. But hearing it from Danny, trying to prove his toughness like that... and right now Bruce hates it.

He doesn't let anything show on his face.

“I know you are strong.” the man repeats with gentle insistence. “But that doesn’t mean you have to continue to endure the pain.” It's safe now. No one will harm you here. I won't let anyone hurt you.

The boy is silent, looking at him pleadingly and clearly not having the strength to continue the argument.

Bruce makes another argument.

“I'll be here when you fall asleep.” He says firmly, placing his other hand on top of Danny's trembling hand and squeezing it gently. “And I’ll be here when you wake up.” We'll all be there. I promise.”

Clark thinks this is a good time to move slightly to the side, plastering a soft smile on his face. Danny winces, only now realizing the presence of other people. Behind Clark, John and Dick loom in the doorway, who manages to smile much more sincerely, with a clear sense of relief, and wave.

Danny's throat twitches as he swallows forcefully, turning his gaze back to Batman.

“You won't be alone, Danny. If you want, we will be here all the time.”

Danny's bottom lip trembles as he lets out a choked sob, lowering his head and pressing one palm to his face. The other hand still held onto Batman tightly. The child looked as if this was his only lifeline...

“P-please...” comes his broken, muffled voice, and it sounds absolutely devastating to Bruce’s bleeding heart. - I don't... I just don't…”

Virgin Mary... He wants to wrap this child in a blanket and hide him safely from the world. And destroy those who decided it would be a great idea to hurt, devalue and cut him up.

But all this will only happen after Danny’s surgery is completed and he is resting in intensive care.

“I got you, buddy. I got you.”

Leaning forward, Danny rested his forehead against the armor on Bruce's stomach, still sobbing in muffled sobs. Batman's hands hold his shoulders and the back of his head, gently massaging his scalp where there are no injuries, and it reminds him achingly of Jazz.

It takes them a few more minutes before he manages to pull himself together a little. Only a little, because his body refuses to stop shaking or bleeding faintly. Bruce frowns as more droplets of green blood and clear fluid drip onto the blue fabric on Danny's lap. The guy extends his hand to the side.

“Blood sample,” he mutters, smearing half-dried tears down his cheeks with his fist. “For anesthetic…”

The doctors perked up, starting to fuss. Clark sheepishly stepped aside so as not to interfere, listening to one of the nurses quietly indignant about the absolutely destroyed sterility in the operating room.

Danny closely watched every move of the nurse as he took his blood for the test. Bruce continued to stand by his side even when the anesthesiologist was called to assist in putting Danny under anesthesia.

The chief surgeon very quickly patched up the scratches and, having changed clothes, returned fully prepared to finish what he started.

Danny leered at him for a moment from under Batman's protection as the doctor sat in a small wheeled chair, awaiting the test results.

“I'm sorry.” He apologized quietly, the boy’s gaze slid over his hand, where the scratches he left were hidden under a layer of protective clothing.

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to him.

“This is nonsense, guy.” He chuckled lightheartedly, brushing aside Danny’s remorse. “It’s not the worst thing that patients who suddenly woke up did to me.”

Noticing that Danny's gaze had become a little interested, the man narrowed his eyes and scooted a little closer in his chair.

“Batman, for example, stuck a scalpel right into my palm.” He took off his glove, revealing a small longitudinal scar on the outside of his palm. “Pierced right through, by the way.”

At the same time, Bruce, who was still standing here, quite successfully pretended that this was not about him.

“And Superman tried to break through the wall with me. Fortunately, the Martian Manhunter was on duty outside the room at that moment, so I am still alive.”

Clark, clasping his hands and twirling his thumbs, lowered his head in shame. This was definitely not the story he liked to remember.

‘So don't worry, kiddo. These are just scratches. The main thing is that we patch you up properly.”

Danny purses his lips and looks away, focusing on his knees under the fabric, already heavily soaked with his blood, dripping from the peeling flaps of skin on his chest.

His skin. Separated from the body and dangling like pieces of torn clothing. His skin.

Danny shuddered and closed his eyes, feeling nauseous.

Oh no, better not.

There has been no food or liquid in his stomach for a very long time, except for stomach acid (not a fact), but, probably, in his situation, nausea even with the remains of bile would be a very bad idea.

Bruce tenses slightly as he feels Danny's fingers tighten on his forearm. The boy's head is still resting his forehead against Burse's stomach, so he can't see his face, but he can see his trembling, bruised shoulders and his thin back, rising weakly from ragged, strained breaths.

“It's okay, Danny.” He runs a hand through his hair, and he hopes it's comforting enough. For Danny, who was a very tactile child, this must be pretty damn hard to deal with right now. “Everything will be fine.”

“No.”  A hoarse whisper interrupts him, like a sudden revelation. Danny raises his head and glares at Bruce with his doomed gaze. “They m-may find the summoning ritual. They can call me and I won't be able to resist. They'll take me again.”

Bruce has to swallow the tight lump in his throat as he stares into wide ectoplasmic-green eyes in a face filled with resigned fear.

Leaning down so that their eyes are at the same level, he squeezes Danny's shoulders and says in the most confident voice he can muster:

“It will not happen.”

Danny frowns, his lips moving to protest, but Bruce continues.

“Because if they call you, I will go with you.”

“It’s dangerous, you can burn...” confused muttering.

“Then it will be Superman. Doesn't matter. You won't face this alone.”

Danny looks really surprised and still scared in Bruce's arms. It seems that he initially did not expect that someone would be ready to stand up for him so fiercely. Someone an adult (because Danny's friends and sisters may be really lovely and wonderful and very loyal, but they are kids too). Bruce considers this his mistake. He should have convinced Danny earlier that Batman and the Justice League were trustworthy. That you can turn to them for advice or help. That did not happen. Of course, what happened wasn't Bruce's or the other superheroes' fault personally, but perhaps it could have been prevented (or mitigated) if Danny had known that there were people on this Earth he could rely on.

Bruce is going to fix this soon.

“This is also a promise”

For several long seconds, Danny looks at him silently, the doom and confusion in his gaze are replaced by bitter mockery.

“Oh, then you better keep those promises.”

Also grinning, Bruce ruffles the hair at the back of his head more cheerfully. This looks like the Danny they know.

“Absolutely, buddy”

It takes the doctors the next forty minutes or so to kick everyone out into the corridor (except for Batman, who couldn’t be kicked out), clean up, re-disinfect the room (and Batman) and put Danny under anesthesia. The boy only let go of Bruce's hand when he was completely unconscious, but even then it took some effort to unhook his fingers.

The man took a step to the side so as not to interfere, but, true to his word, remained nearby for the rest of the time it took the doctors to stitch Danny up and then transfer him to the intensive care ward. He only stepped away for the few minutes it took to change into a clean set of Batman armor while Superman relieved him at his post.

A few hours later (he's not sure how long), as Bruce slumped in an uncomfortable chair next to a bed covered in tracking devices and IVs, Constantine's tousled head appeared in the small window in the door. Bruce gave him a questioning look. Instead of answering, John excitedly picked up the ghost phone, pointing his finger at the mobile network indicator.

It showed three divisions.

The Ghost Zone signal was working again.

***

“Jazmine?”

Madelyne Fenton looks genuinely puzzled as she freezes with her ecto-blaster cocked. Next to her, Jack also froze, his face twisted in surprise.

Jazz feels pain in his heart.

Her father's expressive face, on which any emotion was always so clearly visible, was one of the most vivid memories of her childhood. She's sure Danny does too.

Behind them is a whole platoon of GIW soldiers, probably waiting for the order to open fire. White jackets ripple before her eyes, and now she is even a little grateful for the transparent red dome separating them and filtering this whiteness. The dome began to glow brighter due to the number of ghosts, and she felt her vestigial ectoplasm reacting more strongly to the cursed barrier. The barrier that now separated the army of ghosts from a handful of people. The barrier that now separates her from Denny.

This won't last long.

Jazz knows what that looks like. And she doesn't care. They don't care that her parents see her in the black robes of the Queen Regent, with a copy of the Crown of Fire above her head, with her hair flowing, now burning with emotion like a strangled flame. To her left stands Pandora, frowning and concentrated, with a long sword in one hand.

Ellie is standing on the right. She is filled with anger, and, barely maintaining control, floats slightly above the ground, also towering over her older sister. Her right hand is in a bondage, Frostbite almost had to fight to get it on. Internally, Jazz is still annoyed that Ellie came. But at the same time, she is glad that her sister is here. With her presence nearby, it seemed that it would be a little easier to bear what would happen next.

Fright Knight, as always, stood a step behind, instilling a feeling of security, seasoned with a pinch of restrained anger.

This is enough for Jazz to gather her will and look away from her mother, finding Agent K in the crowd.

“I am Jazmine Phantom, Queen Regent of the Endless Realms.” She stated formally, sounding much more confident and calm than she felt. “On my own behalf and on behalf of all my subjects, I demand that the Ghost Investigation Ward immediately, safe and sound, hand over to us the captured Daniel Phantom, here known as Fenton, and all other ghosts currently located on the territory of Amity Park. I also demand that theGhost Investigation Ward be...

“You don’t have to continue!” Agent K interrupted her sharply, taking a couple of confident steps forward. “We will not listen to the requests of ectoplasmic abominations.”

“A-abominations?!” Jack roared, turning to the agent. “Our daughter is not an ectoplasmic abominations! Just because she’s a little ecto-infected doesn’t mean...” he grumbles indignantly, but falls silent when Madeleine stops him with an absent-minded gesture.

“Jazmine, baby, what are you saying?..” Madeleine asks quietly, still not understanding what is happening. Or not wanting to understand.

Throwing an indifferent glance at them, Jazz continued from where she was interrupted:

“And I demand that the GIW organization be abolished and disbanded, since its purpose and statutes completely violate the laws of the Endless Realms, as well as the rights and freedoms of my subjects.

Agent K's cruel grin made it clear that the man wasn't even listening to her words. OK. Fine. She knew from the start that it was pointless. But she should finish her speech, since the agents are kindly standing around and doing nothing. They were probably not attacking just because they were waiting for reinforcements to arrive because the ghost army was really large (the dark and colorful silhouettes of thousands of ghosts filled the sky behind her, blocking out the sun), but she would take advantage of this moment of calm while she could.

“Otherwise, here and now I declare war on the GIW organization and, if there is intervention from the US government that is not aimed at a peaceful resolution of the conflict, war will be declared on the entire United States.”

She fell silent, looking expectantly at Agent K and only him. In her peripheral vision, she could see the emotions changing on her parents' faces. From misunderstanding to anger, confusion and misunderstanding again. She will ignore it for now. She will ignore...

“Where is Danny, mom?” the words escaped her lips before she could stop them. She notices how Ellie twitches, looking at Jazz in surprise, but then the girl turns her hateful gaze to the Fentons, clenching the fist of her good hand and clearly wanting this fist to be on someone's face now.

“Jazzy Pants, it wasn’t Danny, it was an ectoplasmic creature...” Jack started muttering.

“Jazmine, your brother died a long time ago, this creature was just pretending…”

Jazz bared her teeth, her hair, as if electrified with rage, flew into the air, framing her shoulders. Well, she knew that's what she'd hear. Now she can completely renounce her painful childhood attachment to Jack and Madeline Fenton, as the people who gave her life and raised her (somehow). Today (in fact, much, much earlier) they lost both of their children.

She turns her gaze back to Agent K, who has his finger on his earpiece. Looks like their reinforcements will be arriving soon.

“What is your answer? Will you satisfy my requirements?”

The agent's grin became even meaner and crazier as he pointed his ectoblaster at her face.

“I'd rather burn in Hell.”

She flinches when Pandora's shield appears in front of her, stopping the energy beam that passed through the dome.

“Very good.”

Jazz doesn't even need to say anything. She feels Ellie's arm wrap around her waist, lifting her into the air and carrying her away, towards the edge of the forest, as the army of ghosts spreads around the dome, preparing to attack. It took them a lot of effort to dissuade Ellie from participating in this battle. In the end, they managed to negotiate that she would guard Jazz while Fright Knight, together with Pandora, led the attack.

The Queen Regent sank to the grass, pressing her palm to her face, hearing the sound of hundreds of ectoblasts tearing the air behind her. She felt dizzy and nauseous and needed... just a couple of minutes to get herself together again. Just a couple of minutes.

Something gently pushes her on the shoulder. She lifts her head, noticing a water bottle in her sight. Muttering gratitude, she takes the thing with trembling hands, drinking almost half of it in one gulp. Ellie leans over her, the weight of her supporting hand felt on her back. The younger girl's face no longer glows with anger and determination. Now she's just upset, sympathetic and a little tired... Oh Gods, Jazz is tired too, so tired...

Forcing herself, she jerked to her feet, turning towards the battle and trying to return the cold confidence to her face.

The dome sparkled and glowed bright red with tension as all the ghosts attacked it simultaneously. Ectoblaster shots flew out from inside, but the ghosts easily dodged them. And if the shot hit the target, then the wounded man was immediately replaced by another soldier.

Although, for Jazz's tastes, the process was not going fast enough.

At the right moment, she caught Pandora's eye and, with a grim face, raised her hand with her thumb up, and then slowly turned it down.

Pandora nodded curtly, turning around sharply and giving Wolf the command.

The werewolf seemed only too happy to obey the order.

He descended to the ground, only to quickly soar up, cutting the air with his claws and opening a huge portal. Many hands instantly appeared from inside, grabbing the ragged edges of the portal and pulling them apart from each other, widening the passage. From the inky green of the Endless Realm, the massive front wheels slowly and heavily appeared, and then the shoulders of a giant siege catapult.

Jazz couldn't see the Fentons' faces or the guys in white from here, but she liked to imagine they were in shock.

Not stopping there, Wulf immediately opened two more portals one after another, hovering in the air above them and watching with a considerable amount of evil satisfaction as heavy, clumsy catapults rode out to the ground, mercilessly crushing grass, bushes and small trees beneath them.

These catapults were the pride of Fright Knight.

Following them, the ghosts rolled out several large ballistae, distributing them more maneuverably in front of the red dome.

Ellie, with a completely insane grin, eagerly watched as the shell in the catapult stock flashed brightly with green ghostly fire. The coordinator gives the go-ahead, and all three burning shells are launched into the air, drawing parabolas with a low roar and leaving tails of black smoke behind them.

The ground shakes as the shells hit the red wall. The dome flares tensely, barely able to withstand the force of the blows. The flammable substance with which the shells were coated splashes across the surface of the dome, continuing to hiss and burn furiously. Jazz hears the ghosts screaming in glee.

With a creaking and grinding sound, the soldiers pull back the arms of the catapults to fire a second salvo as the ballistas fire large black darts at the lower part of the wall.

Oh yeah, it's definitely a much more fun pace.

If only they weren't late.

Jazz flinches as she feels the phone vibrate. Quite surprised, she reaches into her pocket among the folds of her clothes. Who could it be? Sam and Tucker are in the castle, they know that now is not the best time to call...

The caller's name is "Batman" on the screen. The guy whose number Danny almost forced her to keep...

For a moment her finger hovers over the reset button. But then, driven by an unknown premonition, she slowly moves her finger and accepts the call, bringing the phone to her ear.

For several seconds there is silence on both sides, broken only by radio interference on the line.

"Jazmine Phantom?" - Finally, a low male voice asks quietly. One can hear in him a familiar deep fatigue and, despite the obvious restraint and formality, severe emotional exhaustion. Jazz feels... solidarity.

"Yes." - she answers briefly, unable to take the initiative of dialogue and simply waiting for what the person will say.

She watched as the catapults fired a second salvo with furious thunder. The dome is extremely hot and shines brightly in the falling twilight of the early evening. It should break soon. Left a little.

"We have your brother."

Her thoughts stop.

In the background on the other side of the call, she hears someone grumbling about the harshness of the statement, but barely registers the meaning of the words.

“What?..” she asks barely audibly, suddenly feeling a sharp dryness in her throat.

"Danny is with us. A... summon has been made. He was in poor condition, but is now stable and resting."

In the background, someone can again be heard droning on about how “Betsy doesn’t know how to deliver bad news gently.” And Jazz feels her legs give way. She has to grab Ellie's shoulder to really keep herself from falling.

The heart speeds up sharply, and the blood is pounding in the ears, as if after a long run. She runs her tongue across her harshly dry lips, ignoring Ellie's mutterings. What is this person saying? Doesn't he know... how can he know? And How...

“Jazz?..”

The sound of the name goes past her ears. If this is true... If Danny is truly safe, if he is not in that place... A wave of relief and anxiety almost knocks her off her feet, and the only thing that still holds her is Ellie, clutching the collar of her raincoat .

Her head is throbbing and spinning, she feels like she's hyperventilating... Oh no, it feels like she's fainting.

"Jazmine? Can you hear me?"

"Batsy, let the girl catch her breath." The second voice is now louder, its owner must have moved closer to the phone.

Following the words of an unknown voice, Jazz forces himself to take a deep breath, which every second risks breaking into a groan. A groan of relief, a groan of pain, a groan of joy, a groan of despair...

No, it's early. Calm down. Get a hold of yourself. You can't believe it until you see it with your own eyes. You don’t know these people to literally believe what you want to believe.

She takes another deep breath, noisily sucking in air through her nose.

“Is there anyone among you familiar with the occult?”

"Yes, honey, there is.”

She frowns at the other voice's address, but decides to ignore it for now.

“I will send instructions for recruitment. Do everything immediately.”

"Whatever you say, Jazmine.”

She hung up the call and with trembling fingers began to look in the phone gallery for a photo depicting a diagram of a ritual circle for summoning. The Queen Regent's call, although when they came up with it a year ago, they jokingly called it "I'm calling my mommy." They created these ritual circles as an emergency measure, in case one of them found themselves in a hopeless situation. They hoped that they would never have to be used (they always knew that this was a futile hope).

“Jazz.” Ellie shakes her roughly, and Jazmine jumps in fear, turning her gaze to her. Still preoccupied with other thoughts, she silently straightens up, quickly sends a photo to Batman and turns off the phone, carelessly tucking it somewhere into the folds of her coat.

“Is this about Denny?” the younger sister timidly asks.

With a reserved, nervous smile, Jazz nods.

“ We're leaving. We need to tell Pandora.”

She looks around, trying to find the four-armed goddess in the crowd of ghosts.

“I'll be there in a minute.” Ellie jumped into the air, but thought for a moment, turning to her sister. “Don't leave without me. Please.”

Jazz just nods, not trusting his voice anymore. All the same, Ellie is fast, but those people will need some time to draw the ritual circle.

<...he is stable and resting…>

Jazz clutched the thick fabric of her camisole over her chest, feeling her heart beating feverishly through the layers of fabric, skin, muscle and bone.

These words imply that Danny is alive and on the mend. Oh, Ancients, let only this be true. She prays for this to all the gods who exist and do not exist. Please.

She opens her eyes, not remembering when she closed them, noticing a soft orange light that outlined a circle under her feet.

Pretty fast. Faster than she dared hope. Just in time, Ellie lands next to her, hugging her sister with one arm and looking at the circle of light with worry in her eyes. Jazz wraps his arms around her waist as well, eagerly waiting for the circle to finally form.

The ground beneath their feet disappears and they fall down a rabbit hole of light and greenery, plummeting towards the unknown and hope.

***

Bruce took a step to the side, waiting for Constantine, who was crawling on the floor in concentration, to finish drawing a circle.

Jazmine sounded younger than he was comfortable with. He didn't know her age, and Danny never mentioned it, but the girl on the other end of the call couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Most likely less.

Constantine jumps to his feet, clapping his hands once and hastily taking a few steps back as the completed drawing began to rapidly fill with a bright orange light until it became a uniform glowing well about four feet in diameter. And then this disk of light rose into the air right up to the ceiling and froze.

Bruce took another step back, just in case, looking at the portal. It cast a warm orange glow over everything around it, painting the room the colors of the sunset. It wasn't alarming or irrationally wrong like those bloody circles the cultists drew to summon the Ghost King. It was peaceful and friendly.

Blinking, he lowered his eyes, skimming the figure of Constantine, hypnotized by the well of light.

“It’s rare to see such a beautiful call.”  the Briton suddenly said, as if reading Batman's thoughts.

Bruce chuckled. Yes, probably. He did not exclude the possibility that, as an occultist, Constantine saw much more right now than Bruce from his unprofessional (in this matter) point of view.

A quiet hum began to grow around, similar to the sound of the Zeta Tube, but softer. The air shook, and two black figures suddenly jumped out of the light well, crouching down to soften the force of the impact on the floor.

Bruce watched them straighten, wary.

The first thing that caught his eye was the tall girl's hair. Long, flowing and fiery red, the ends of the strands flutter like a small flame. As she straightens up fully and squares her shoulders, Bruce realizes that Jazmine is indeed tall, probably the same height as Wonder Woman. Blue-green glowing eyes peer into him with experience and tenacity, quickly assessing and weighing dangers and weaknesses. Her clothes are completely black, reminiscent of an elegant medieval men's suit, the fabric is clearly very expensive and covered with elaborate black embroidery, and a long, formal cloak with a stand-up collar that frames her neck sharply emphasizes the pallor of her determined face. But it also emphasized the heavy weariness deeply rooted in the dark circles under the eyes, in the crease between the eyebrows and the stern curve of the pale lips. An ice crown hovers above her head, tiny snowflakes softly fall from its sharp transparent edges, instantly melting on the smooth red-haired crown.

Princess Ellie, standing tensely next to Jazmine like a guard cat, looked just as exhausted and fiercely determined. Bruce frowns slightly, noticing that her right arm was wrapped in an inconspicuous dark bondage and pressed to her chest. However, the girl held her left hand very confidently on the hilt of the sword, so it is unlikely that the wound could have made her less deadly.

Either way, they were both very young.

“Where is he?” Jazmine asks, and it sounds more like a growled order.

“Follow me,” Bruce nodded in the right direction, immediately turning around and walking towards Denny’s room. Jazmine and Ellie quickly catch up to him. Judging by the way Konstantin is staring at them from behind, they are a sight to behold - all three of them are completely dressed in black, with grim faces and an aggressive aura.

Jazmine's lips were pressed tightly together as she strode forward, taking long strides that echoed softly along the smooth floor of the hallway. Her gaze from under thin, frowning eyebrows darted between the back of Batman's head and the door looming at the end of the path. Ellie turned her head around more restlessly, catching her gaze on all the details and little things, remembering the road and landmarks. Neither of them was willing to break the tense silence, and neither was Bruce. There was a lot he wanted to say to comfort the girls, but he knew he shouldn't do it now. There is no better consolation for loved ones than seeing a loved one in person safe and sound. But he will readily answer all their questions when they are ready.

Throwing open the doors to Medbay with a slightly theatrical gesture, Bruce walked through the empty corridors to the intensive care unit. All personnel had been warned in advance and taken outside the medbay just in case, after all they didn't want to take any chances with any random variables.

Not intending to waste any time, Batman opened the door of the room without any fuss, stopping in the corridor and allowing the girls to pass.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jazmine saw the man clenching his jaw at the sight of her completely devastated expression, but it didn't matter.

Danny was there. Danny was there, and oh god, she felt her heart ache again and clench with enormous relief and pure terror.

What did they do to him?

In a way, it was déjà vu. Not so long ago she stood with sorrow at her brother’s bedside, but this time everything seemed to be much worse and more serious. In a global sense.

She barely noticed another person in the room as she walked towards the bed on wooden legs. When they appeared, a man in a red and blue suit quickly rose from his post in a chair near the bed, putting a knowing, sad smile on his face and immediately moving away to the side.

Danny was in ghost form, with tangled white hair that had clearly been tried to be washed, but

There was still some small debris and traces of ectoplasm left. His skin looked completely gray against the background of the hospital bed linen, however, severe blood loss was obvious. His entire torso, from his neck to almost his hips, is covered in tight bandages. In places, in the center of the chest and abdomen, translucent greenish blood appeared through the bandages, forming a completely recognizable figure.

Right now she wants to kill the Fentons, and she's not ashamed of those thoughts.

She freezes at the head of the bed, entangled in wires and tubes from several IVs, not daring to touch Danny, because he looks so fragile, as if he could break with one careless movement (Jazz, most likely, right now, could also break with any careless movement) . But finally, desperate to touch, wanting to make sure it's not an illusion, she brings a trembling hand to his face, her fingers barely brushing his skin. She is cold and dry, this is the norm for Danny, and the realization of this is like a hammer hitting her over the head.

She has to grab the rail at the side of the bed to stay on her feet.

It's just terrible, but it's not as bad as it could be. Danny will be fine, Danny will be fine. It's not irreversible. It can be fixed. Everything will be OK.

With more confidence and tenderness, she presses her palm to his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. She leans forward, not paying attention to the way her hair falls forward, scraggly red strands covering Danny's shoulders and pillow. Jazz kisses her brother's forehead with dry lips, feeling moisture accumulating on her eyelashes. She closes her eyes and a few tears fall down, immediately melting into Danny's hair.

Leaning back, she looks back at Ellie, surprised to find that her little sister is sitting in a chair with a devastated look, leaning uncomfortably forward and, desperately and reverently, clutching Danny's hand like a treasure.

Absorbed in her experiences, Jazz really didn’t notice anything around her. Raising her hand, she runs her thumb over her eyes, wiping away the tears.

You need to pull yourself together.

As happy as she was to see her brother alive and safe, he still needed rest, especially right after surgery. Under normal conditions, they most likely would not even be allowed near a patient in such a condition.

Looking around the room, Jazz realizes that those people left them alone. Although she can definitely tell that they are waiting right outside the door.

Walking around the bed on weak, stiff legs, briefly inspecting the arranged medical equipment, she puts her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. She shudders all over, raising her head in surprise.

“Let's go. He needs peace.”

Ellie frowns, about to object.

“We won't go far. I'm sure these people will be able to provide us with a place in the next room.”

And if they can’t, then she’ll fucking force them.

This makes Ellie relax a little. She stands up and turns to Danny one last time, quickly leaning down and weightlessly kissing him on both cheeks and forehead. Jazz gives her a broken smile as they both move towards the door.

As expected, Batman and the man in red and blue are waiting for them in the hallway. The man in the trench coat disappeared somewhere, but she didn’t care.

She silently looks at them, watching out of the corner of her eye how Ellie, with a sad look, quietly closes the door of the room. No one probably says anything for a whole minute, but at that moment words seem unnecessary. They can feel the general sorrow and heaviness in the hearts of others.

“So,” the red-blue hesitantly interrupts the silence. “Your Highness Jazmine…”

“Your Majesty.” Ellie corrects him with a sudden shitty grin. “Before you is Her Majesty the Queen Regent, Boy Scout.”

Jazz, with a gentle, irritated look, gently hits her on the shoulder.

“Just Jazmin.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” the red-blue one winces in amusing embarrassment. “I'm Superman, but you can call me Kal El.”

Jazz nods tiredly in acknowledgment, rubbing his forehead and suddenly feeling a thin sweat cover him. She swallows the sticky saliva and plans to completely ignore how numb her limbs are right now.

“We... I am extremely grateful to you,” she says, looking first into the eyes of Superman and then Batman, so that both men understand the seriousness and depth of her gratitude. “I don’t have words right now to...

Exactly a second before the fall, she understands what will happen. In her entire crazy life, she, surprisingly, only actually fainted a couple of times, however, recognizing the signs is not difficult.

Vision narrows to a narrow tunnel, ears feel hot and deafness fills them.

The next moment she is already on the floor. She was leaned back against the wall, Batman delicately held her shoulder, and Ellie wailed something in an upset voice. Blink - and Superman appears next to him with an outstretched glass of water. Jazz winces and shakes his head slightly, and the picture before his eyes, by inertia, sways after this movement. It's very nice of him to offer water, but there's a 70% chance she'll throw up, so she'll hold off for now.

She probably just sits and breathes for a couple of minutes, thinking that staying the night in the hallway on the floor outside Danny's room isn't such a bad idea. Because she probably won't be able to stand up on her own anytime soon. Her legs decided to take a day off.

The brain tells you that these are all the consequences of prolonged stress, insomnia, emotional stress and a recent strong surge of adrenaline.

However, she looks reproachfully at her legs stretched out in front, hoping that this look will shame them into starting to work.

She has to break eye contact when she hears a pathetic sob nearby. She turns her head, looking at Ellie slumped next to her. The girl sat with her lanky legs folded awkwardly and her head bowed so that her long white bangs covered her face. Noticing the attention concentrated on her, Ellie shrank awkwardly and began to wipe away her tears.

“It’s okay, baby,” Jazz pats her knee with a weak hand, still feeling dizzy.

Ellie shakes her head furiously, causing her ponytailed hair to whip around her shoulders, and lets out another noisy sniffle.

Batman stirs slightly.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, and Jazz really has to think about the answer.

On the one hand, she really can’t stand up on her own right now. On the other hand, her brother lies outside the door just a few meters away, and compared to his wounds, this temporary weakness is such a trifle that she is ashamed to even think about it.

In the end, she just shakes her hand in a “so-so” gesture.

Batman chuckles.

“Let's take you to a room where you can rest.”

Jazz nods, raising her arms slightly sheepishly so Ellie and Batman can easily scoop her up and lift her to her feet.

“Only this should be next to Danny…”

She mutters, feeling the dizziness and nausea catastrophically intensifying from the change of position... and that’s where her authority ends.

        Superman exclaims in alarm as Jazmine completely passes out and hangs limply in Batman's predominately arms because Ellie can only use one arm.

All in all, it's no surprise - from the start, Jazz looked like she was keeping her feet on the ground through sheer stubbornness and pure rage.

Clarke doesn't know the whole backstory, but the amount of stress this girl has been under over the past few days must be colossal.

But speaking of Danny's other sister...

Shifting his gaze, he freezes, seeing the frozen expression on Ellie's face. This is the face of a man who will start crying any minute. Her eyes are wide open and already shining wetly, and her lips are tightly compressed, although her chin is clearly trembling. She barely blinks, and that's all it takes for large tears to roll down her pale, bloodless cheeks and a noisy, trembling sob to be heard.

So. There were two more royals thrown into the equation, one fainting and the other developing a tantrum. Add to this the king recovering from anesthesia after a major operation. Is Clark having a little panic? No, Clark doesn't have any panic.

However, he looks to Batman in panic (he denies it) for help. Bruce also has his lips tightly pressed together as he looks at Ellie, whose sobs continue to gain momentum.

Deftly shifting so that Jazz's full weight is on him, Bruce carefully, trying not to get tangled in the folds of his clothing, picks up his older sister Phantom, bridal style. Ellie hardly reacts to this, but presses the fist of her freed hand to the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes, curling her lips into a grin that looks extremely pitiful, considering all these tears that continue to flow profusely from her eyes. She is clearly trying to restrain herself and calm down, but Clark, from experience, suggests that this hysteria is also the result of severe nervous tension. It is difficult to simply stop such hysterics until the emotions spill out naturally.

Bruce nods towards the door, located a little further down the corridor. This is another intensive care unit, but they were originally going to give it to Jazmine for rest/temporary living if necessary, assuming she wouldn't want to move away from her brother.

He is already heading towards the ward, and Clark thinks that he needs to take the second girl there too.

“Ellie, we have allocated a room for you next to Danny.” he begins, using his softest tone, reserved for scared children (specifically Kon and John), “Batman will take Jazz there. You want to go? Or do you want to stay here?”

There is no clear answer, but Ellie begins to take frequent, convulsive breaths, squinting her eyes even harder and literally pressing the knuckles of her fist into her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her other hand twitches awkwardly in the bondage, as if she wants to use it too to comfort herself.

“We can stay here, that’s no problem. Do you want anything? Water?”

He remembers the forgotten glass of water he brought for Jazz. But Ellie refuses him too, shaking her head and opening her dull eyes to cast a surprisingly annoyed glance at Superman. But then she sobs loudly, choked sobs escaping from her chest.

Her hand falls to her lap and now she just sits, staring into the empty space where Jazz used to be, crying helplessly. Large, slightly emerald, transparent tears flow liberally down her cheeks and drip from her chin, making a quiet drip-drip as they break on the hard surface of the armor on her knees.

Frantically wondering what else he can do, Clark realizes that he has little to offer beyond his supportive presence (or lack thereof) right now.

“If you want, I can leave...” Ellie gives him a panicked look, and he realizes that this is not it. So he does the opposite. He opens his arms slightly, leaving himself exposed and turning fully towards the girl.

“If you want,..”

That's all it took for Ellie's face to contort even further into an expression of grief (which was so similar to Danny's expression sitting on that table that Clark almost flinched). She jerked forward and fell into his arms, wrapping her good arm around him and clinging to his cloak on his back. Her face was pressed somewhere in the area of his solar plexus, and from there, muffled sobs began to be heard with new intensity. Clark gently wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her slightly towards him so that she could sit more comfortably, and prepared to let the child pour out her grief for as long as she needed.

***

About forty minutes later, when Clark's legs were a little numb and Batman had long since left Jazz's room (having returned to drop off some drinks and snacks to replenish carbohydrates and fluids before leaving again), a slightly rumpled Nightwing slid into the hallway. Right after Danny was put under anesthesia, Bruce and Constantine forced him to go take a nap because Dick was off shift at his day job, compounded by the vigilante's night shift and a small briefing at the Tower. In short, he looked barely more alive than Jazmine and clearly needed some rest if he wanted to continue to be functional.

Dick raised his eyebrows questioningly, looking around at Superman sitting on the floor, who was hugging an unknown white-haired girl in unusual black armor.

By this time, Ellie, fortunately, had practically calmed down, only occasional convulsive sobs still sometimes made her flinch. So Clark thought a little introduction wouldn't hurt.

The girl just turns her head towards the sounds of footsteps, showing her swollen, tear-stained face. Dick sighs slightly, immediately noticing the obvious similarities between her and Danny.

“Nightwing, this is Ellie, Danny's little sister.”

Nodding in understanding, Dick lands on the floor next to them and flashes one of his most charming smiles.

“Hello. I'm Nightwing. Emotional Support Worker For Anyone In Need.” his smile becomes even wider when he notices the irritated disbelief on Ellie’s face. “How are you doing?”

Ellie frowns and, quite shamelessly, takes Superman's cape and uses it to wipe her face and blow her nose.

“My brother was vivisected, my sister fainted from overexertion, my arm turned into a barbecue, and the DNA donors who call themselves “parents” are to blame for all this.” Her voice is hoarse and angry, but quite energetic. ”How do you think I'm doing?”

Raising his hands protectively, Dick winces, leaning back slightly.

“This is really shitty. That is why I, as an active representative of ESWFAIN, am here.”

“Representative of what?”

“Emotional Service…”

“I got it, I got it, stop.” She sighed with even greater irritation.

“Do you want a hug?” Grinning playfully, Dick spreads his arms wide to the sides, demonstrating his readiness to hug. “Superman, of course, is a cool guy, but I’m sure all these mountains of steel muscles cannot be soft. No offense, Big Blue”

Now Clarke also looks at him with gentle irritation. He understands perfectly well why Dick is doing this. However, that doesn't stop him from considering his candidacy more than suitable for a hug. Lois, Ma, Pa, John, Con and everyone else had barely complained so far.

Pouting her lips, Ellie, like a koala, hugs Superman even tighter (I must say, her grip is very strong) and presses her cheek to the letter “S” on his chest, looking from under her brows at Dick with an obvious challenge. Clarke is worried that she will hurt the hand caught between them.

But this is not enough to dampen Dick's enthusiasm.

“Did you know? By the way, Danny recognized me as one of the best cuddlers. I have won prizes in world hug competitions.”

Dick's eyes sparkle slyly, and even from his position above her head, Clarke can see that Ellie herself is having a hard time holding back a grin.

“I believe that every person should try my hugs at least once in their life.”

“Did you know you were an idiot?”

“Oh, I've heard that a couple of times. But this came from my brothers, and they cannot be objective judges, so I do not trust this assessment.”

Ellie snorts, trying to muffle the sound with her shoulder.

“Are you sure that you are an employee of the Emotional Service or something, and not a circus employee?”

Dick's face falls in confusion and he blinks several times, looking at Ellie. And then he breaks into an absolutely delighted smile.

“Oh God, you won’t believe it, I kept my circus actor’s ID all these years…”

Ellie, seriously surprised by this plot twist, purses her lips and stares at him indignantly.

“And how did Danny hug you? He hates clowns.”

“I didn’t say I was a clown.”

The door from the common area swings open again, and John Constantine appears on the threshold. Ellie winces, already from such a distance feeling the acrid smell of cigarettes. Luckily, she was more or less used to the smell because of Johnny and Skulker.

John looks at them from above with a confused and irritated look, but then shrugs and comes closer, opening the door of Danny’s room and looking inside. Ellie also looks there, through the crack noticing that the light was very dim, and in the chair near the bed there was a black mass that was probably Batman. And when did the man manage to slip there?..

Quietly closing the door back, John leaned against the wall opposite them and slid down with a tired sigh, stretching his legs in wrinkled trousers forward.

After rummaging a little in the pockets of his coat, he pulls out a worn flask, unscrews the cap and, after thinking a little, offers it to the others. Dick and Clark shake their heads negatively, and Ellie, raising a skeptical eyebrow, kindly says:

“I am sixteen.”

Actually five.

To this, Constantine shrugs again and takes a large sip himself, immediately wincing from the bitterness of the drink.

They fall into a rather comfortable silence, sitting on the floor in this deserted, bright corridor. Ellie stops squeezing Superman and settles against the wall between him and Nightwing, also stretching her legs out in front of her. And... okay, after what's been going on for about the last hour, she can admit that these guys are really cool. It's clear why Danny liked them enough to spend time with them. And she thinks that they were all damn lucky that these were the people who were there when Danny was called up from GIV. She doesn't want to think about what would have happened if it had been someone else.

Danny's been through so much crap in recent months that, purely statistically, something good was bound to happen at some point...

Oh, just look how her standard for “good” has dropped.

Ellie smiled bitterly, awkwardly unfastening the sheath with the sword from her belt with one hand and placing it next to her, because all this time they had been terribly in the way, but only now she was able to comprehend it. She also thought about removing the upper part of the armor, at least the breastplate and shoulder pads, but decided to leave it that way for now. Thoughts of returning to the battlefield and...

Stop.

Her eyes slowly widened in realization. She forgot something. Something very important. Something called Sam and Tucker.

She frantically reached inside her thigh, pulling out her phone and only successfully unlocking it on the third try. She didn't see the dumbfounded looks the others were giving her, but even if she had, she would have ignored it. This is not as important now as... thirty-eight missed calls!

Ellie bit her lip, silently cursing

The habit of putting my phone in “do not disturb” mode and forgetting about it...

Yes, 38 missed calls and about fifty chat messages... Sam and Tuck will kill her.

With slightly trembling fingers, she dials Tucker's number, because facing Sam's rage directly now will be beyond her strength.

The guy picks up on the second ring.

"Ellie!? Where the hell are you and Jazz..." He sounds like he's overcome with emotion and mostly excitement, and Ellie feels even more guilty. Damn, she should have at least texted the guys right after she saw Danny. But her own emotions were completely out of control and...

"Is this Ellie???" Sam's voice is heard in the background, and Ellie grimaces unhappily.

“So, please, don’t give her the phone! I'll explain everything now!”

“Why can’t you give me a phone number?!”

"It's late, you're on speakerphone."

Ellie groans with annoyance and slaps herself on the forehead, leaving her palm there to cover herself from the shame and curiosity of the people sitting next to her.

"Is this about Danny?" Suddenly Tuck asks quietly, and this once again stabs the knife right into her conscience. They are Danny's friends. She's Danny's closest friends, and of course they'd also like to know as soon as possible that he's okay... well, that at least he's no longer in the clutches of GIW.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's... he's okay. Well, he's alive. And he'll be okay." She hears a sigh and sniffling. "He received help and is now resting."

She falls silent, giving the guys the opportunity to get used to this idea a little. Now that she's put her thoughts in that direction... It would probably be best to ship Danny into Far Frozen. First of all, you need to bring Frostbite here so that he can assess Danny’s condition, and then together with him decide how and when best to do this. The doctors here may be the best in their field, they may be able to treat aliens and mutants, but they certainly do not know how to treat ghosts and halfas. Perhaps Danny will recover easier and faster in the Zone, under the supervision of doctors from Far Frozen.

Damn, she shouldn't be dealing with all this stuff, why Jazz...

Oh no, shut up. You can't always put the blame on Jazz and Danny just because they're the eldest. You have the same brain as them, and almost the same range of powers.

"Have you contacted Pandora?" She decided to start with something simpler. Yes, the question of storming Amity is much simpler. Definitely.

“Y-yeah, Frighty showed up about fifteen minutes ago,” Tucker’s voice seems compressed and a little snotty, but she’s not going to comment on it. Bye. "They broke the dome. All the agents who were captured alive are now under arrest... The Fentons too."

Ellie takes a slow, shuddering breath through her teeth.

"Captive ghosts are now being freed. And something else..."

"No, Tak, not now." Sam interrupts him sharply.

"Oh, um, yeah, probably later."

“What? What are you speaking about?” She frowns, listening to the sounds on the other end of the call, but hearing only their excited breathing and some rustling, Tak is probably pacing around the room with the phone in her hands.

"It's not urgent, don't worry. Best to focus on Denny for now. How's Jazz doing?"

Obviously, Tucker is not at all subtly trying to change the subject, and Ellie allows him to do so for now.

"Jazz, uh, fainted."

"What?!"

"Oh, Ancients, is she okay??"

“Yes, it's just overwork, I think.”

"No wonder. The girl needs rest."

"Lots of rest."

The three of them fall silent in solidarity, holding a spontaneous moment of silence in honor of Jazz and her healthy sleep. During all these days (two and a half weeks in the Zone), she probably slept for a total of twenty hours. And it wasn’t a dream, she simply passed out at her desk for a short while, and then flatly refused to go to bed. It’s as if the Fentons’ workaholism is a family thing (After this, the thought immediately comes to her that the older Fentons could also work for days and forget about sleep, food, and other needs of the body, but this thought only causes a dull ache in the heart and bitterness on the tongue).

“Okay, um, keep us posted please,” Tucker says, and suddenly there is some rumbling and indistinguishable voices in the background.

"Yes, please turn on the sound on your phone." - Sam adds. "And let Jazz call us when he wakes up."

“Okay.”

The noise and voices are heard again, and Ellie frowns. What's going on there?

"Well, bye. We'll call again!"

And Tucker hangs up the call.

Ellie looks at her phone in confusion. What the heck?

***

Tucker sighs tiredly, putting his phone in his pocket and looking irritably at the ghost knights stomping in the doorway of the office. They'd already received a generous dose of Sam's (tm) scathing glare, so they seemed pretty ashamed to burst into the office without knocking while they were talking.

He looked around, looking at the panorama of the city that opened from the window of the mayor's office. The last GIW agents, escorted by ghosts, were escorted towards the police station. Confused townspeople peered out of windows, crowded into doorways, and wandered the streets with wary curiosity, looking at the warlike soldiers patrolling the area.

He sighed again, dropping his chin onto his chest and hitting himself on the forehead with the edge of the phone several times.

They sorted out the GIW, it’s true. But how do you explain to Jazz that in addition to this, they accidentally captured the entire Amity Park?

Oops?

__________________________

Big notes today.

What, is it really over?

(haha, no)

But the main fanfic is over, let's all applaud each other! Since this is my first fanfic on Ao3 and the first fanfic in this fandom, I can allow myself to be sentimental, bear with me a little.

When I started, I didn’t expect this work to receive such a response, so I’m damn grateful to everyone who gave kudos and everyone who wrote comments. I won’t lie, I re-read them from time to time to get motivated and not get discouraged on bad days. Thank you guys, and I plan to continue to delight you with fanfiction in this series! Maybe I'll even finally find a beta, don't despair lol))))))

(Message to my hypothetical future beta: prepare for hell)

I plan to put the further rehabilitation of Danny and his sisters into a separate fanfic, because I think that this no longer has a place here. One way or another, “five times and one” has already happened, I don’t want to overload the main story and go beyond the scope of the idea (although I have already gone significantly beyond what was originally planned, my mistake). Overall, stay tuned to the series if you want to read the continuation and all the spin-offs that I plan to release in the future! I’m also gradually accumulating various crossover drafts, and since most likely I won’t be able to turn them all into full-fledged fan fiction, then wait for a collection of one-shots.

So, I really love the tense contrast inherent in hurt-comfort, but I'm really bad at writing characters' emotions. Maybe it's because in real life I'm a low-emotional piece of shit who has no idea what normal people should feel. However, I really tried to keep it authentic and not too monotonous. I hope I succeeded.

By the way, I borrowed the catapult idea from a commentator because it painted an image in my head that was too cool to ignore. I hope I managed to describe it at least half as cool. Thanks for the idea!

Chapter Text

Danny and Ellie from chapter 5

Ghost King from Chapter 3, as i see him

Just Ghost King's sketches

Magnificent Jazmine from last chapter