Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian crouched down, letting his hand graze the wet ground. There wasn’t any physical evidence of a murder—no blood or weapon. They were wasting their time.

Still, Grayson insisted on taking the baseless call seriously. He was much too trusting for his own good. 

“Find anything, Robin?” Grayson’s voice crackled through his comm. 

“No.” Damian stood up with a huff. “This was a ridiculous venture. How are we to get anything done when we are wasting our time with every little girl that cries wolf?”

Grayson just chuckled, flipping off the roof of the building he’d been investigating, and landed perfectly in front of Damian.

“We’re just as much detectives as fighters, baby bat,” Grayson smiled widely, which never managed to not be unnerving coming from the bat, “and detectives—”

“Investigate every lead, yes you’ve said,” Damian rolled his eyes. 

Grayson was not a bad teacher, in fact, he was probably the most adequate of any Damian had the displeasure of working with. However, Damian didn’t understand his obsession with following every single lead. It was a waste of time and energy. Wasting unneeded energy got people killed. Damian had watched it happen more than once.

He just didn’t understand it.

“Well, I did find something.” Grayson pulled an evidence bag out of his belt with a flourish. 

Damian raised his eyebrows at his brother as Grayson wiggled the bag back and forth. It looked to be a cloth with blood on it, likely dropped in transit. 

“So the anonymous tip was correct?” 

“Seems like it,” Grayson hummed, bouncing on the heels of his feet. Damian noticed it was something he did unconsciously whenever they came to a stop. Grayson was always in motion like the kinetic energy he used, never truly stopping but simply shifting the energy. It was an art unique to Grayson.

Damian watched Grayson tap his comms to link up to Oracle’s system. Damian still maintained that they didn’t need Gordon or Brown— especially Brown —but Grayson had the backbone of a wet paper towel when it came to those he considered family. 

“Oracle, did you manage to track down the origin of the tip?”

“No,” Gordon rarely allowed herself to sound so frustrated with a task, which spoke of its difficulty, “it turns out the phone it came from was reported missing to the company twenty minutes ago. I’ve been trying to narrow down where the call came from and get the security cam footage but—”

“It’s a needle in a haystack.”

“Exactly.” Both older heroes sighed in unison. It was something they unconsciously did, Damian observed, likely a result of spending years working together. 

It reminded Damian of the small moments when he and Mara were allowed to train with each other instead of against each other. They moved in tandem, having memorized each other's strengths and weaknesses long ago. It reminded him of how his father and Drake had once moved, completely sure in each other, but they always had something more. . .

After working with Grayson, he realized that it was trust. He and Mara never had the option to trust each other, always too on edge from their grandfather pitting them against each other. It had taken a long time—and more lectures than Damian thought necessary—for him to realize that Grayson did not expect the same from him. 

Despite his distaste for Brown, he found working with her without needing to watch her every move liberating in a way being with Mara never was. Sometimes he would find himself wishing he could have a similar dynamic with his cousin, but he didn’t know if they could move past their long history. 

“Well, we’ll get this back to the cave and run some tests. Hopefully, we can unravel this before it slaps us in the face.” 

Damian couldn’t help but agree with the crude metaphor. The last thing Gotham needed was more dead bodies.

“ How do you know they’re going to find me? ” The spirt paced back and forth, its footsteps not making a single sound. “ You didn’t even tell them who killed me .”

“ You don’t know who killed you,” Dani sighed, watching from an adjacent alley as Batman and Robin grappled out of the crime scene. Looks like there wasn’t as much evidence there as she had hoped. Fuck.

“ Oh, ” she stopped, raising her see-through, gray hand to rub her neck which was still sluggishly bleeding from her death wound, “ I forgot .” 

That was the problem with spirits, Dani thought to herself. Their memories were scattered at best, but many of them could only say a few words while stuck reliving their death over and over again in their minds. She wasn’t sure why Gotham had so many of them—something about the ectoplasm underneath the city that she could feel but couldn’t find, she guessed—but she always found herself unable to let them suffer.

She knew what it was like to die now. Some nights she could still feel her atoms destabilizing as thousands and thousands of volts of electricity shot through her core—only to be brought back just as she was collapsing in on herself like a dying star. 

Dani didn’t come back quite the same, turns out dying changes you even if you’re already a ghost. She didn’t mind the slight power down, she wasn’t Danny strong to begin with, and she wasn’t melting anymore so that was a win.

What disturbed her was the changes to her core. And her eyes.

Dani shook her head, breaking herself out of her thoughts. She didn’t have time for self-loathing while the spirit’s mystery killer was still out there. 

“It’s okay,” Dani smiled at the spirit and slung her slightly worn yellow bat over her shoulder, “we’ll figure it out. You’ll find peace.” Dani laid a hand on the spirit’s usually intangible shoulder, but Dani’s own ghostliness canceled it out, making it as solid as Dani was. 

Dani reached down into her core letting the feeling of contentment vibrate through her ectoplasm. She could feel the spirit’s ectoplasm react, first violently opposing the calm by trying to drown it out with its own frantic buzzing, but quickly realizing it wasn’t going to win. It withdrew into itself, slowly but surely mellowing out to match Dani’s vibration. 

She tried to ignore the magenta light her eyes cast on the spirit, turning the gray a familiar pink. Dani closed her eyes, trying not to let her uncomfortableness seep into the calm she was trying to project. 

The color change had been surprisingly gradual. Dani hadn’t even realized it was happening until last month when Vlad’s magenta was staring back at her in the cracked gas station mirror. She screamed, shooting an ectoblast at the mirror, only to see her hands glowing the same, nauseating pink. 

She hadn’t changed forms since.

“ Do you think supper’s ready? ” the spirit asked. Dani pulled back into her core, opening her eyes to see the spirit blinking aimlessly at the horizon. 

“I don’t know,” Dani smiled ruefully at the woman. She’d probably been on her way home for dinner when she was grabbed. “Why don’t we go see?”

The spirit nodded, her mind still a million miles away. But better absent than in pain, Dani thought as she led them away from where the woman remembered being captured and towards the twenty-four hour dinner Dani loved.

Dani wasn’t new to Gotham, but she also wasn’t a resident. She passed through once or twice a year, staying for a little longer than she would most places. Gotham was nice in a way other places weren’t. It had enough ambient ectoplasm that she never felt, well, dehydrated, and there was always someone to protect.

She hated the remnants of Danny’s obsession that was hooked into her core like a fishing hook, making her choose between indulging it and having her core ripped apart again. It was another reminder that no matter how far she traveled or how hard she tried, she would always be just a shell of what could have been.

A failure. A broken porcelain doll whose pieces were held together with clear scotch tape. Vlad had always made that crystal clear .

Dani’s footsteps followed a familiar path through alleys and sidewalks that she probably shouldn’t be going down, but her bat made people think twice before messing with her. The diner was just on the edge of old Gotham, nestled in the more suburban part of the city.

It was on the corner of the block, surrounded by brownstones on either side. Dani walked in, the ding of the bell above the door cutting through the old-school rock playing from the speakers. 

She sat down in her favorite red, cracking booth by the front windows so she could watch Gotham come to life through the glass.

“Hi there doll,” the familiar middle-aged waitress addressed her with a smile, not noticing the spirit sitting down across from Dani, “what can I start you with?”

“A water and a hot chocolate please.” 

The waitress nodded, “I’ll be back to get your order in a min.” 

Dani put her backpack and bat on the inside of the booth away from wandering hands. She had a bit of money from her summer work and the pity cash Sam gave her when the trio remembered Dani existed. 

Not that Dani blamed them. Sometimes she wanted to forget she existed too.

The spirit stared out the window, translucent blood leaking from her neck to her blouse creating a gray-scale pool on the now white fabric. Dani wondered what she was thinking about. Maybe nothing. Maybe her life.

A life that was taken from her.

Something dark in Dani’s core twisted as she thought about how the girl was grabbed. Murdered. Spent her last few moments choking on her own blood, fighting against hands bigger than her own—

“Here’s your hot chocolate hun.” The waitress set down her drinks on the table. Dani blinked up at the waitress, trying to push thoughts of blood and death to the back of her mind. 

“Right, thanks. Can I have a few more minutes?” Dani smiled up at the waitress sheepishly.

“Of course. Take your time doll.” The waitress gave Dani a patient smile, bustling away as new customers came in.

Dani cracked open a menu trying not to think about the hands of the killer wrapped around the woman’s neck.

Dick sighed. The blood on the cloth they found didn’t belong to anyone with a criminal record. They’d have to try and match blood type to missing persons which was an even longer shot in the dark. 

Damian was probably right. This was probably a waste of time—yet he couldn’t get the anonymous message out of his head. He reached forward, pressing play on the recording that he already had memorized.

“ A girl was taken—and murdered. Her throat was slit. In the alley behind, um, Bad Boy Bails Bonds. ” There was a pause with a long sigh of someone with too much resting on their shoulders. Dick would know. “ Please. Let her rest .”

The call ended with that. Dick shifted in his seat. The last line always left him feeling like he was missing something.

It wasn’t a plea to stop the killer or protect future victims. It was a plea for the dead carried out by the living. 

It sent a shiver down his spine.

Dick was about to message Barbara about his findings when a large, red alert began flashing across all of the screens in the Batcave.

“ Justice League to Batman: Emergency Alert. ”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Dick cursed under his breath, jumping up from his seat. 

He turned to grab his abandoned belt, but Alfred was already holding out a new one for him. 

“What should I tell Master Damian?” Alfred raised a brow at Dick in a way that never failed to make him feel like a kid all over again. He knew he shouldn’t just leave Damian—the kid would be livid if he woke up and Dick was gone without telling him.

“Right, right,” Dick clipped the belt around his waist, opening his mouth to ask where Damian was, but Alfred bet him to it.

“He is sharpening his sword in the training area.”

“Thanks Alfie,” Dick jogged over to the training area, ignoring Alfred’s pointed look that was usually followed by scolding for running in the cave. 

Damian was already standing at alert when Dick arrived.

“There’s an emergency,” Damian stated. The kid was just as hard to read as Bruce sometimes, but after living with the kid for a year Dick could see the slight tension in the grip around his sword and the slight pinch in his brows.

He was scared.

The last league emergency—well, it didn’t end well for them. Dick could hardly blame the kid.

“Yeah,” Dick smiled at Damian and ruffled his hair. Damian swatted his hand away, clear displeasure written across his face, “but don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I have to be in the field, but I’ll try to avoid it. Cyborg will be happy to have someone else running backend.”

Damian didn’t show any change of emotion on his face, but his grip on his sword handle lessened just slightly.

Progress.

“See ya soon, lil’D.” 

Damian nodded but didn’t move until Dick was out of his sight—out of habit or concern, Dick didn’t know. But he’d figure it out. Some day.

For now, he had to focus on the Justice League and hope the world wasn’t ending. Again.

Chapter Text

Dani knelt in front of the fresh-cut tombstone. The white roses were still pristine, laying on top of packed dirt. She added her own white poppy to the pile, Dani’s personal go-to funeral flower. They felt more mournful than roses in her opinion. 

Dani let her fingertip trace the indented stone. Amanda Jane Brown . Only twenty-four when she died. A daughter. Sister. Friend. It was so little information to remember her by. The girl she’d met and helped move on—the girl who’d just gotten her diploma and was planning on moving to New York—deserved more, Dani thought. More than just a name and a date. 

(It’s better than nothing at all. It’s better than the pieces of scrap metal that marked where she lived and died.)

She inhaled sharply. The air tasted like salt and gasoline. It wasn’t much different than most coastal big cities, but there was something lying underneath that was uniquely Gotham. If Dani thought about it too long, she could almost believe that it was the ecto-signature of Gotham itself. The smell of rot and death, with a touch of hope. 

“I think supper’s almost ready,” the spirit Dani still didn’t know the name of called out. She was looking off in the direction she usually did, towards the Bowery, if Dani remembered right. They’d have to take a trip around to see if they could jog her memory.

“Not yet, it’s still early,” Dani answered easily, sidestepping a ghost being chased by their sibling. 

Josie and Jack McCloud were two good-natured kids who didn’t care that they were dead. Dani envied that a bit. One day she’d have to make good on her promise of introducing Youngblood to them, but for now, they were happily chasing a much-too-perceptive squirrel. 

“ I guess you’re right, ” the spirit frowned. Dani could see her form flicker. She was struggling to stay grounded.

It wasn’t an uncommon problem for spirits to have. Sometimes, if they couldn’t focus their core enough, they would just fade away, passing on like they were supposed to in the first place. Dani always mourned the loss of her companions, but she was well past the point of lingering in the sadness too long. 

“ Well, hello there, Miss. ‘Nelle, ” an older gentleman tipped his hat to her on their way out. “ Been keepin’ outta trouble? ” 

“Never,” Dani smiled at the ghost, Mr. James, who could always be found in one of Gotham’s graveyards—or at the Wayne Gardens flirting with the florist. He was a grave keeper in life and just never stopped, like nothing happened. She tried to help him move on when she first came to town, but he was content where he was. 

“ You should take care, ” he frowned and adjusted his translucent overalls, “ that girl ya were visitin’ ain’t the only youngin to get got lately. Best to avoid the east end, I hear .”

Where the Bowery was. Figures.

“Don’t worry Mr. James, I’m tougher than I look.” Dani swung her bat over her shoulder and gave the old ghost a wink. Mr. James laughed, holding his round belly. 

“ I don’t doubt that. Not one bit. ” 

Dani said goodbye and started down the sidewalk to the Bowery. Traffic was heavy in the early afternoon, so she had to dodge pedestrians and stray ghosts alike. The sheer amount of ghosts on the streets could rival Amity Park some days.

Some ghosts had been here for centuries. It wasn’t rare to see a ghost in a petticoat or other old-timey daytime clothes walking down the street with small blob ghosts following them. The spirits didn’t have enough ectoplasm for the shades to become a problem, in fact, most people would never see a singular ghost—let alone a shade as weak as a blob ghost.

Of course, Dani wasn’t most people. She could see every pedestrian, shopkeeper, and blob ghost continue about their day. Most of them had no idea they were even ghosts, but the ones that did tend to be the best gossips. There was no better way to gather information than asking ghosts, in Dani’s opinion.

It was one reason Dani liked befriending the ghosts in every city she visited—you never know what information could be helpful. That, and it was nice social interaction. The living often wanted nothing to do with a street kid, while the dead were just happy to have someone acknowledge them.

Several times she could find little blob ghosts would circle around her doing the ghost equivalent of sniffing her. They would lightly rub up against her, getting a feel for her ectoplasm. It created a soft tingling feeling, similar to when one of her limbs fell asleep, but not painful. Some of the blobs would follow her for a block or two, before going back to their haunts. Some would check her out and immediately go back to the spirit they bonded with—their fraid.

It was odd for a ghost as powerful as her to not have any shades bonded to her, but Dani thought it was because her ambient ectoplasm was too low. (It made Dani wonder how much stronger she’d be if she could stay in Amity. Would she have destabilized in the first place? Would it have made a difference?)

Dani sighed as a blob ghost nudged her face. She pushed it towards her shoulder with a small smile. The ghost chirped and pushed its way under her hair. She tried not to laugh as it tickled the back of her neck. 

She took a second to shake the blob ghost off her, earning a couple strange looks from the people around her. Dani looked around to make sure the blob scampered off to where it belonged, only to notice that her companion wasn’t following her anymore.

“Aw, fuck ,” Dani cursed under her breath. It was never a good sign when a spirit seeking her help wandered off. 

Dani started by backtracking a block. A bust. She circled that block. Still nothing. People were starting to look at her funny by the time she started circling the next block. Nothing again. 

Deciding it was time for a different tactic, Dani slipped into an alley and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of her breath. In, and out.

She could feel her core in her chest, pulsing with her heart-beat. It was cool, but not unbearably cold, like laying in the shade on a windy day. She reached for the coolness, tendrils of power slowly reaching out from her center. Up her chest. Down her arms. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

With each heartbeat she let the power expand. Each thump was a ripple disturbing the pool of power within her. It began to overflow, and slowly stretch outside of her.

She could feel the rats in the dumpster. The worker in the thrift shop. The baby in the stroller being pushed across the road. The taxi driver stuck at the red light. 

With each ripple, she felt more and more. She felt every soul—their emotions. Their actions. Their intentions. 

Noise filled her head, like a thousand bees buzzing in the skull. There were too many thoughts. Too many emotions. Tension started to form between her eyes and her stomach lurched. She fought to keep her control and not slip out of focus. She had to find the spirit.

Dani focused on the idea of her spirit friend. Bringing every conversation, every touch, every moment fighting every other foreign thought rattling in her brain.

Suddenly, Dani was hit with a wave of panic, almost making her lose her concentration. There was so much of it congregated in one place. She reached out in that direction, trying to figure out the source, when she felt the ectosignature she was looking for brush the edges of her consciousness. 

Her awareness snapped back to her like the release of a taut rubber band. The world spun around her and her breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. Lingering input and over exertion of her powers left her weak kneed. But she had a job to do.

She moved towards the location as fast as her shaky legs would take her, with her heart in her throat. It only sped up when she saw the crowd of people and police cars surrounding what appeared to be an active crime scene.

Dani looked around for a vantage point, finding a rather thick tree along the outskirts of the park the commotion was in front of. She ignored the rough bark breaking the skin of her palms and the tiredness in her limbs as she climbed up. 

She crouched on a thick, but high up branch that just allowed her to see over the crowd of  people. In the middle of the taped off area, the spirit she was looking for stood unmoving, even as officers passed through her. Her eyes were locked in a dead stare ahead of her.

She was staring at a body. Her body.

It was posed on a metal bench, head tipped to the side, unable to stay upright. The body was still dressed in the clothes she died in. Every rip and bloodstain now imprinted on her very soul. 

Dani sighed and made herself comfortable. They were going to be there for a while.

The wind rustled the just sprouting leaves around her. At least it was a nice afternoon.

She leaned against the trunk of the tree and reached into her pocket, flicking on her Fenton Phone. Ignoring the crack across the screen, she searched for Tucker’s contact.

gremlin_child

hey, i need a favor

Age-of-the-Geek-BABYYY

Sure, waz up lil D

gremlin_child

a body was just found on a bench

in  Gotham

i her need name and address

Age-of-the-Geek-BABYYY

o7 on it boss

Dani looked up from her phone to the rundown brownstone building in front of her. The Bowery was bustling with people, some just getting home for the night and others just going out. The Gotham sky was a dusty rose color as the sun set over the horizon. 

“ Dinner’s finally ready? ” the spirit— Lisa said. Her real name was Lisa. 

“I think so. Why don’t you go up?” Dani looked over to see the hesitation on Lisa’s face. The spirit was wringing her hands, eyes focused on a lit up window. 

Sighing, Dani ran a hand through her hair. Sometimes getting spirits to take those last few steps was harder than actually figuring out how to help them—which was saying something.

“They’re waiting for you,” she kept her voice gentle, but the spirit didn’t hear. Whatever she was thinking about, it was consuming her. 

A cold breeze rushed through the street, sending litter flying. A piece of newspaper blew past them, almost hitting Dani, before being flung into the alley across from them. The paper stuck to the rusting metal of a fire escape, bringing Dani’s attention to the rickety ladder.

“Come on,” Dani gently nudged Lisa along, and the spirit followed her blindly.

Pink light lit up Dani’s eyes as she used a bit of her telekinesis to shift the ladder loose. It dropped with a loud clatter, sending an alley cat skittering away. No one else seemed to find it concerning as Dani scaled the fire escape, beckoning Lisa to follow her.

Lisa floated up along with Dani staying pretty close to her side. When they finally reached the fifth floor, Dani stopped. From their place perched on the metal grates, they could see into the apartment building across from them. The same apartment that Lisa was fixated on down below.

The light coming from the apartment was a warm yellow. Beige curtains opened a bit too wide framed a scene that pulled at Dani’s core. 

There was a group of people gathered around a wooden dining table, all in different states of disarray, ranging from mostly put together to actively breaking down. Dani could practically feel the grief radiating from them.

An elderly woman collapsed into a dining room chair, lowering her head to the table and resting it on her arms. Her shoulders shook with violent sobs. Everyone around her watched with tearful eyes.

“ Gran. . . ” Lisa’s voice shook as she reached a hand forward. Translucent tears left trails down the spirit's cheeks before dispersing into the air. 

Dani placed a gentle hand on the small of her back. “I think it’s time to go home.”

At first she didn’t respond. Her eyes glazed over as she nodded shallowly. Dani gave her a nudge, propelling Lisa into a small step forward. 

She continued at a slow pace, but each step a bit bigger than the last. Dani sank down to the cool steel, the bare skin of her thighs erupting in goosebumps as it made contact. She fiddled with the hem of her jean shorts that were just a tad too big. Oh well, that’s what she got for shopping in the lost and found. At least she got nice leg warmers—which she was currently wearing because Gotham was fucking cold in April—out of it.

Lisa phased through the window, hesitantly approaching the elderly woman still sobbing. 

The spirit reached out and laid a single hand on the woman’s shoulder. A few moments later, Lisa dropped to her knees, wrapping her colorless arms around the woman’s shaking sternum. She closed her eyes, leaning into the familiar embrace, finally having a moment of peace.

Dani smiled to herself as the spirits’ form began to shift. Grey turned to shimmering shades of lime and sapphire. The edges of her incorporeal form began to ripple, ectoplasm splitting off into shards of iridescent light. Like a tapestry, Lisa’s form unraveled—the only remnants of her presence were the fragments of glittering ectoplasm floating in the air. 

It was always a surreal experience watching a spirit move on, leaving their ectoplasm behind as their souls ascended to somewhere beyond. Already there were blob ghosts finding their ways to the apartment, fluttering around consuming the shards like goldfish in a tank. 

Dani stayed there, simply watching, until the impression of the patterned metal of the fire escape was pressed into the exposed skin of her thigh. A bittersweet melancholy lingered in her chest as the blob ghost began to slowly move on. A couple stayed, invisibly cuddling the mourning family. Although they would never be seen or recognized, every once in a while they would lean into the ghosts, unconsciously seeking comfort.

It was interesting how souls in pain would seek out comfort, even if they didn’t know it.

She watched the family slowly disperse until the dining room was dark and empty, only the occasional glow of a blob ghost signaling that it was different from any other home. She probably would have stayed a lot longer, but she found herself distracted by the movement of the city. 

There was something inherently restless in the air tonight. 

Dani couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was exactly, but she could feel it brush her skin like static and fill her lungs like ice water. Something just didn’t feel right about sitting tonight.

So she peeled herself off the metal grates and descended the rickety, rusted ladder. 

Everything looked the same. The plastic trash and various dumpsters shined in the flickering street lamplight, barely cutting through the Gotham smog that hung low in this time of night. The smell of warm garbage and sea salt drifted through the thin alley, with a hint of citric acid and death burning her sinuses.

The smell was somehow different from the morning. Instead of something that lingered in the air like the last note of an orchestra piece, the scent clung to her. Like a layer of smoke laying over her skin. It was trying to seep into her pores and work its way into her veins.

She shivered at the sensation. 

“Rrr-ow. . . ”

A sharp, high-pitched sound assaulted her ears. Her head jerked up to the mouth of the alley. All she saw was cars passing by bouncing on broken asphalt.

“Maow. . . ”

Again—but this time a soft trill echoing off the brick walls around her. Engulfing her in the vibrations. Her heart began to beat faster and faster as she spun around. Her eyes glazed over every shadow as she went. 

“Maollww. . .”

Each time she thought the sound dissipated, it started up again—but louder and longer.

“Rrr-oow!”

Then she finally caught sight of something. 

Just a flicker of smoke mixing in with the shadows like it belonged there. She traced the movements back into a corner. 

Between a trash bag and the brownstone sat a round, white and black cat. The black fur on its back seemingly dripped down its sides, like it was colored by a paint spill. The black coated its back, half of its face, and its tail, while its paws and under body were a stark, bright white. 

It stared up at her with mismatched eyes, one green and one golden, that shined like a dull neon sign. The slitted pupils were focused on her, but her gaze began to drift.

The cat's tail flicked back and forth. It seemed mostly normal. If you ignored the way its tail tapered off into the shadows. 

Dani had no doubt this creature was not normal.

A spirit, maybe. Partly. Not quite.

The cat— spirit? —began to slowly stalk forward. Its presence pressed against her, essentially gluing her feet to the ground. Despite the growing panic in her chest, there was nothing she could do but watch. 

So instead of fighting it, she decided to work with it. She really hoped this didn’t get her killed.

Dani dropped to her knees before she could overthink it. The cat backed away for a second, but Dani didn’t let that stop her. 

Slowly, she extended her hand, index finger leading, as she did with all strays she met. Keep still. Keep eyes down, she reminded herself. In the back of her mind, she could hear the old lady from Iowa coaching her through interacting with stray kittens.

“They’re so small. So fragile. Show them they can trust you. You have to speak their language.”

So she waited, just like she’d done before under the hot midwestern sun. She’d look up occasionally, when she did make eye contact she made a show of averting her eyes—even her whole head. 

It took a few moments of the careful back and forth before the cat approached her.

It moved slowly. Paws inching forward. It would focus in on the slightest tense of her muscles, but oddly enough not the movement of the city. 

Just her .

Cats were sensitive animals. The littlest movement in their environment was cause for a head turn. But this cat, it didn’t care about its surroundings. Like it knew every car, or animal, or drop of water. The only thing that was foreign, it seemed, was her.

Her knees hurt and the night chill was beginning to set in, but she didn’t dare move. Dani was a lot of things—reckless maybe, definitely cocky—but she wasn’t an idiot. It took power to freeze a ghost in their place. The kind of power that you didn’t disrespect.

Then, finally, the cat closed the distance between them. 

It sniffed Dani’s outstretched finger, first hesitantly. As it got acquainted with her presence, the pressure that glued Dani to the ground lightened minutely, but still it lightened.

It wasn’t until the cat rubbed its face up against Dani’s hand that the pressure truly released. Warm air rushed into Dani’s lungs and her limbs no longer felt like ten ton bricks. She hadn’t realized the true extent of the creature's effects until it was lifted.

The cat pushed its head underneath Dani’s hand, demanding to be pet. Its fur was soft. Softer than most strays—and the coat didn’t have any mattes in it. Even medium haired cats got them, she’d seen it first hand, so it was almost odd this stray didn’t.

Then again, it might not even be a stray. Or a cat. 

Still it purred under her fingers as she scratched its chin. It wanted her to pet around its ears, but never its actual ear. It liked that little place at the base of its tail scratched.

It was almost easy to forget the small creature wasn’t normal.

(Almost.)

After a while, it seemed at ease with her. They fell into a good rhythm of pets and cuddles. She found that even though she could leave now, she didn’t really want to. (Vlad’s voice floated through her mind. “You’re too curious for your own good,” he would hiss.)

That’s why when the cat startled, eyes focused on the roofs of Gotham, the intense need to know what could catch the attention of such an odd creature overtook her better sense.

That’s why when the cat walked out the mouth of the alley, but turned around to trill at her (an invitation to follow), she followed.

Whatever was going on would be interesting, that was for sure.

Sophia Renouf. 

Amanda Brown.

Cadence Wilson.

Lisa Jones.

And now, Valentina De La Haye.

Stephanie Brown frowned at the growing list of names. Sure, Gotham was known for its killers and criminals, but plain old serial killers weren't something she’d usually handle.

But that was part of being Batgirl and not Spoiler. Having the bat on her chest, it was a different weight. The same heaviness as Spoiler, but people expected different things from her.

She wasn’t the kid with a personal vendetta anymore. She wasn’t some bait for a lost robin to take their mantle back, and she wasn’t the same kid that started a gang war.

It took a lot to get Babs and Dick to see it. To see what Cass had, even before Steph herself. But they were getting somewhere, and that meant she had to do good on this case. (She wasn’t sure who she was trying to prove herself to, maybe everyone, maybe nobody. Maybe just to herself.) While Batgirl was known to work separately from Batman, and oftentimes in spite of Batman, Dick wasn’t Bruce and Steph wasn’t an inexperienced kid. They both knew working together was better than working apart. (She tried not to think of Tim, who hadn’t returned any of her calls and who was probably across the world right now. Tried not to think of how much he was hurting. She failed.)

So, Steph followed up on one of the few leads they had. Unfortunately, that took her to Arkham Asylum. (Bruce never would have let her follow up a lead at Arkham. She wasn’t sure who he trusted less, her or Arkham itself.)

“Glad you could make it,” Commissioner Jim Gordan greeted her as she landed on the wet concrete outside of Arkham’s gate. The night fog and shine of the city lights made Arkham look almost half as scary as it actually was.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Steph joked, her smile half cocked. “I’ll follow your lead on this one, if that’s okay?”

Gordan raised an eyebrow in surprise, but nodded. He lead them through the gates and a chill went down Steph’s spine. God, she hated Arkham. It was too haunted house for her liking.

“We just got the call about an hour ago that Victor Zsasz escaped,” Gordan’s eyebrows furrowed, revealing the crows feet that made their home on his face after many years of too much stress. “While we had originally ruled out Zsasz as a suspect because of his imprisonment, all the murders fit his MO. We were in the process of ruling out an accomplice or apprentice when this happened.”

Steph hummed in reply. None of that was new information. Zsasz was the first logical suspect. The victims were young women, their throats were slit, and they were posed in lifelike positions—his exact MO. They’d thought it was a copy cat, because until now there was nothing pointing to someone on the outside working with him. Dick was taking it harder than usual (he took everything harder these days) and was out interrogating known associates. Oracle was digging through security footage and records. Robin was checking known places of interest. She was working with the cops, and, more importantly, seeing what they missed.

Gordon walked her past security and into the belly of the Asylum, walking her through the break in as they went. Both guards and policemen eyed her, whispering about the small blonde girl when she was out of sight. The inmates on the other hand would yell out at her about her body or her age or whatever perverted thing popped into their minds. They were trying to rattle her, she knew. (It was never quite this bad as Spoiler, she thought. But then again, she’d never been escorted through Arkham as Spoiler.)

Eventually, they stopped at Zsasz’s cell.

“I got the requested records, Commissioner.” Steph turned, the light, feminine voice piquing her interest. 

The girl had black hair and square shaped glasses. Her smile dripped with condescension masked as politeness. A quick glace at the girl's outfit and Steph identified her as a nursing student, Gotham University. 

She should be scared, a voice that sounded like Tim whispered in the back of her mind. Girls like her were dying. It should terrify her that her place of work isn’t safe, that a murder just escaped. Instead, there was a certain look in the girl's eye—one that Cass had pointed out to her in people before. Pleasure masked as careful indifference.

“Thank you,” Steph stepped forward taking the files before Gordan could. “Gotham University. What’d you do to draw the short straw and end up here?” She kept her tone light and playful, hopeful that it would come off as her checking in on a civilian.

“My professor doesn’t like me much,” The girl answered easily. The high pitch of her voice wavered, seemingly out of strain. 

“Man, that severely sucks. Good luck, um. . . what’s your name again?” Steph let her eyes follow a policeman taking away what he considered important evidence, letting the girl think she was distracted.

“Alexa.”  

“Hmm. Well, I better get going. See ya around.” Steph threw the girl a quick smile and followed the policeman to where they were collecting evidence. 

Alexa. 

Steph made a quick note of the name on her gauntlet computer. Hopefully Babs could do the rest.