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“Are dogs even allowed in here?”
The ding of the elevator frees the high school boy from having to suffer the whispers of nosy women any longer, and he steps into the empty box with the sleek black Great Dane without sparing them a glance. He doesn’t usually bring the dog, of course, and they may technically not be allowed, but he doesn’t particularly care, either. He arrives at his chosen floor without incident, and simply drops the leash once he’s no longer among people with no notable intelligence. His dog is properly trained and will keep pace with him unless ordered otherwise.
His target office is still empty, and he bites back a sigh and turns for the other end of the hall, where the other office sits. He’d been meaning to stop by for some time anyway. Pushing open the door without hesitation, Damian Wayne finds himself staring down sapphires sharper than any uncut gem’s edge almost before the door has finished swinging open. Something about the gaze itches at him, and he lifts his chin defiantly before he can temper his reaction.
Far from being bothered or otherwise antagonistic, the man softens at the motion as though it answered a question. “I’m going to take a wild guess,” the man says easily, “and assume you’re Tim’s youngest sibling.”
Damian wants to sneer, because obviously, but he’d never introduced himself and he’s got his mother’s eyes and skin tone, so most outsiders who don’t know him miss the connection at first. “I am,” he allows once he’s gotten his instinctive childish snark back under control. He dips his head in greeting. “I am Damian Wayne, and this is Titus.” The dog, having simply sat at his side when he stopped moving, huffs in place of a bark at the sound of his name, far too well trained to make such a ruckus even when addressed.
The man stands, coming around the desk and giving Damian the opportunity to understand what Richard meant when he called the man a behemoth. “Danny Fenton,” he says, holding out his hand like Damian was literally anyone, not the blood son of one of the richest and most influential men on the planet. “Brilliantly behaved beauty you’ve got. May I pet him?”
Damian, thrown by the man not even looking at Titus until he’d been allowed, simply nods and steps further into the room while Fenton drops to one knee and, after offering his hand for a sniff, proceeds to rub Titus’s ears like a professional masseuse. Most people don’t bother asking before petting the ‘puppy’ and those that do rarely take a teenager’s lead so easily. That Fenton did both impresses him and makes him want to bristle, though he doesn’t know why. Perhaps it is how easily Titus lets a veritable stranger rub all over him.
The inner office door opening pulls everyone’s attention. Timothy stands in the door, taking one look at Fenton and Titus and sighs. “I’d hoped to have six months before you got kidnapped by Damian’s menagerie,” he says wryly, “and I expected it to be the cow before the dog.”
Damian blinks, watching Fenton’s head turn from Timothy to Damian’s own. “You have a pet cow?” he asks gleefully. Timothy sighs.
Damian, however, nods. “Yes, I do. I found her on one of the outings when I followed Father without permission and saw the way she’d been treated at a processing plant Father was acquiring. I would not relent until I was allowed to get her away from them. She lives on the Manor grounds.” He watches Fenton’s face closely, waiting for the usual reactions. Most either coo at him like a brainless child, or scoff that he’s not actually fixing anything, and both irk him.
He’s surprised when Fenton nods, standing even as he keeps one hand on Titus’s head. “Good for you,” he says, far more sincerely than Damian had admittedly thought possible. “Not all of them follow regulations to be humane about it, and no one deserves the treatment a lot of them are put through as a result.”
He can see out of the corner of his eye that Timothy is also surprised by the answer. Damian mentally revises his initial opinions of Timothy’s assistant. “What brings you by?” Timothy asks him suddenly. “I thought you’d be bugging B.” Damian scoffs.
“Oh, Mr. Wayne went down to talk to Mr. Fox about an hour ago, he may not be back in his office yet,” Fenton says before Damian can snap at Timothy. He’ll admit he’s surprised that Fenton knows that, given the man isn’t responsible for Father the way he’s become responsible for Timothy.
Timothy, however, simply nods like this isn’t a surprise. “He’d been meaning to go talk to him about a potential issue with one of R&D’s projects,” he agrees amicably. “You want lunch, Dami?” Damian watches Fenton’s attention shift, the way he locks onto Timothy’s questions with a purpose he hadn’t displayed until now.
It intrigues him. “If you’re having food from the cafeteria brought up, I wouldn’t mind their tikka masala,” he admits. He’d missed lunch to come and bring Father the Justice League report he’d been awaiting rather anxiously.
Fenton already has his phone out. “Vegetarian or vegan?” he asks without looking up.
Damian blinks, surprised by the suddenly succinct question, and that he knows to ask. “Vegan,” Timothy answers for him, Damian far too busy watching Fenton finish the order on his phone.
His eyebrow lifts. “I wasn’t aware they’d bothered with an app,” he comments a touch more pointedly than might have been necessary.
Timothy scowls, but Fenton just gives him an easy grin. “Oh, they haven’t, though I could probably poke that into Tuck’s head, actually,” he answers, completely unbothered. “But I accidentally walked into a spat between one of the cafeteria girls and her partner and ended up with phone numbers for both of them, one of the receptionists, and a couple of the security guys. I just text Tim’s order down to them, it saves me so much time. I can’t get them to stop sending Dominic up with it, though.”
Timothy snorts. “You shouldn’t have told him how to set up his four year old’s birthday party, then,” he counters, and Damian learns yet another odd tidbit about Fenton. “Between that, convincing him to start tracking his wife’s car maintenance so he can get it done for her before she has to harp at him about it, and that opera date idea, I’m pretty sure you saved the guy’s marriage. I’m honestly thankful that all he does is bring up lunch.” Fenton merely shrugs, seeming entirely unapologetic as he returns to the large desk situated pretty much directly in front of Timothy’s door.
A scuff from outside the still-open door pulls everyone’s attention, but the only one who comes in is Father. “No wonder Dick comes by more often lately,” he says, not bothering to hide that he’d overheard. Damian doubts the story is news to him regardless.
Timothy huffs a laugh. Damian notices he’s not as tired as he’d looked last night, and wonders. He knows the man hadn’t been sleeping, not since he’d gotten Oracle in on his deep dive into a convoluted government agency none of them had heard of before. They all know it came from Fenton, but Oracle’s looked into him twice now and found nothing to warrant their nightlife attention at this time.
Fenton, still at his desk, glances up. “Have you eaten, or do I need to add to the lunch order again before it comes up?” he asks, phone already in hand.
Father waves him off. “That’s alright, Lucius is bringing food up. He sent me to see if you and Tim had eaten yet, actually. He wants to come introduce himself since Tim stole you out from under him,” the man says, dipping into the idiotic ‘Brucie’ persona to sound the right mix of airheaded and gleeful about it.
Timothy groans, but Fenton just chuckles. “Fair enough,” the man allows gracefully, eyes back on his screen. Damian watches him click across a few screens, wondering why Father isn’t getting his full attention the way most people do.
Timothy waves them into his office, and Damian notices the changes for the first time. The little nook near the window has been redone, a tasteful carpet seeming to isolate the short couch and matching pair of guest chairs around a small oval table. It looks like a miniature meeting room. The bookshelf has likewise been reordered, and there’s even two shelves with a thick plexiglass door bolted in to lock up the binders contained within. Damian admits himself impressed as he settles in one of the chairs, letting Father have the couch. Timothy simply pulls his desk chair over, likely so Lucius Fox could have the other guest chair. Titus comes and settles himself at Damian’s feet, curled slightly to stay out of the way.
The elevator dings, new voices approaching. Out of easy sight, Damian and Father both tense, but Timothy stays concerningly lax, still tapping away on the tablet he’d brought when he rolled over. Damian taps Timothy’s foot with his own, but the man simply looks up at him and flicks his eyes towards the wall where Fenton sits.
Lucius comes through, then, grinning. Fenton follows him, pushing a cart with covered trays and with a portfolio under one arm that hadn’t been anywhere on his desk previously. Damian wants to ask questions of the man and who else had come in, but he also wants to shake his idiot of an older sibling at how lax his guard is at present.
The cart is stopped at the edge of the rug, and the portfolio is set on Timothy’s desk. “McCoy finally sent over the proposal for the Pittsburgh arena that Entertainment wants to put in. Doesn’t look like there’s a safety brief included, though, which was their excuse last week for not having it in on time,” Fenton says as he puts food in Timothy’s hands. “Steel’s not gonna like their numbers.” The tablet seems to vanish into a coat pocket while Timothy is juggling the platter, and Damian watches Fenton side step to set it on top of the portfolio.
He catches Father watching this as well while he digs into the banh mi that Lucius had brought him. Only when everyone has been served and water has been dispersed does Fenton pull one of the guest chairs in front of Timothy’s desk over to settle in with his own food. Lucius watches curiously, not bothering to hide his interest.
Lucius gives the lot of them a concerningly curious gaze before clearly deciding not to beat around the proverbial bush. “You look better than you did this morning, Tim,” he says happily.
Timothy blushes, though Damian isn’t sure what he’s so embarrassed about. Lucius knows about both sides of their lives, after all. “Oh, that couch Mr. Wayne is sitting on expands into a small bed. His 11 o’clock meeting was a nap because he’s back to not actually sleeping at night,” Fenton says calmly.
Damian turns to stare at him, Father looking rather shocked while Lucius just chuckles heartily. “Wait, you block my schedule?” Timothy asks, clearly surprised.
Fenton nods, entirely unrepentant. “Yup. Helps me send off anyone who thinks they’re important enough to be entitled to access to you without having to throw anyone out the window. Less paperwork,” is the easy answer, and Damian smirks.
“No, you cannot do it for him,” Father interjects, finger pointed directly at Damian.
Fenton grins. “Plenty of other opportunities, don’t worry,” he fake-whispers conspiratorially, and Timothy curses under his breath.
Lucius chuckles at the scandalized look on Timothy’s face. “I badgered a few of your patents off of Tim here,” the man says, drawing Fenton’s attention. “I won’t try and steal you, partially because I don’t know whether Tim or Dick would mutiny first and that’s a terrifying thing to have to admit.”
There’s chuckling from all sides, but Damian sits quietly and observes. He doesn’t detest Fenton, and truthfully might come to like him, but he hasn’t yet figured out why Timothy is so quick to let down his guard around the man. Damian has, of course, worked through most of his issues about his place in the family, but he is still possessive. He doesn’t have a reason to trust this man, not truly.
Fenton, clearly done with his meal, sets the plate on the small table they’re gathered around. He gives Lucius his full attention, and the man sets his own plate down as well. “I waited to do this to see how you’d adjust and what Tim would show you. We’re all a little impressed, there’s no point in denying it,” Lucius continues, though Father does frown at him for the admission. “I’d like to give you access to some of the R&D schematics as a sort of outside perspective. Have you look at a few things with a fresh set of eyes free of the pride of validating what was created before accepting criticisms.”
Fenton clearly ponders this, silent for several moments. “I’m not opposed,” he begins, oddly cautious, “but there’s no way I can work within the normal time constraints for things like that. Not without compromising my responsibilities as Tim’s personal assistant and mildly unofficial bodyguard.” Timothy snorts at that, and Damian lifts an eyebrow. Fenton certainly has the stature, of course, and it would be a decent enough deterrent to petty thieves, but he thinks ‘bodyguard’ might be a bit much.
Lucius is nodding, however. “Oh, I wouldn’t have you working on anything in any truly official capacity,” he assures. “Just another set of eyes on occasion to make sure they’re not blowing smoke to save face, mostly. Tim’s on board, if that’s your worry, he’s actually the one who mentioned it to me. He’s big on making sure we’re not underutilizing talent, and you’ve got talent to spare.” The man’s confident, posture loose, and Fenton is similarly relaxed, if a touch more cautious. Whatever else he thinks of him, Damian can respect that Fenton is taking his existing duties seriously.
To Damian’s surprise, Fenton turns a raised eyebrow on Timothy, glancing meaningfully back at his tablet. It isn’t an expected reaction, and Damian wonders if he should be offended. Timothy just laughs. “Oh, he’s going straight to Tucker’s office from here, I made a few comments that guaranteed his afternoon schedule is clear,” Timothy says, entirely too pleased with himself.
Fenton blinks at him for a second and a half before slumping in his chair rather surprisingly. “He’s going to be insufferable, you know,” the man mutters, Lucius watching the interaction curiously.
Father perks up at this, having followed everything but trying not to get involved enough to have his public persona questioned. “Is something wrong?” he asks as though he’s not reading the undercurrents.
Fenton sits up at being addressed, but Timothy is the one who speaks first. “Nah, it’s fine, B,” his brother dismisses casually. “Danny and Tucker grew up together, they’ve been friends longer than Dami’s been alive. Apparently he threatened to disown Danny for getting a job closer to ‘behind the scenes’ by complete accident. He’s been up for lunches a couple times, it’s all as good natured as Steph and Dick ribbing each other every time there’s a new bet running.”
Damian watches how casually Timothy speaks, the way Fenton’s shoulders relax as Father accepts the explanation. Damian wonders why they’re going to see this Tucker at all, but he doesn’t know how suspicious it would be to ask. He’ll have to ask Timothy at home later.
Everyone is done eating, and Father glances at Lucius before focusing on Fenton. “Might I be a bother and borrow Tim to discuss a small family matter?” he says, absurdly empty smile firmly in place.
Fenton chuckles. “Mr. Wayne, this is literally your building and I work for your son. You can have Tim for anything. If he doesn’t need me immediately, I can take the cart back down to the cafeteria for a modicum of extra privacy,” the man says, already gathering plates and stacking them.
Lucius rises as well, taking Fenton’s now empty chair and returning it to the designated spot in front of the desk. “I’ll head down with you,” he says as the cart is loaded with the empty dishes, Fenton nodding amicably and welcoming the chance to discuss how to set up his access to certain things without compromising others.
None of them speak until the outermost door closes and they’re completely alone. “We’re going to have to meet him in costume soon,” Father says, much more serious than he usually allows himself to be in public.
Timothy sighs, but nods. “Yeah, I know. I can’t be involved, not face-to-face,” he says, and Damian frowns.
He leans forward, pinning his sibling with his League-trained glare. “Are you compromised? What have you told him?” he asks sharply, ignoring Father’s hand on his forearm.
Timothy looks taken aback for a moment. “I haven’t told him anything, damn,” he snarks. “But he’s observant enough that I won’t risk him clocking me. For as often as he’s around me, I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if he noticed some small quirk somewhere and pegged me. He’s smart enough.” Damian keeps scowling, but he does concede the point, for now. It makes more sense now that Timothy mentioned over dinner one night that they should probably discuss a contingency for Fenton. His observational skills must be why.
Father hums, apparently agreeing with the assessment for now. “What is the interest in his friend?” Damian asks, curious and a little itchy at not knowing things.
Timothy is clearly surprised, but sits back, posture open and honest. “Danny’s a mostly self-taught engineer, but Tucker’s a coder. He’s working down in Cyber Security and he’s been invaluable, but apparently he also writes most of the apps Danny uses on the work tablet. All of his note taking stuff, real-time mapping, whatever he’s running my itinerary on, even a customized voice recorder with heavy encryption and backup to a hard drive that I’m pretty sure stays locked up here in the company. I went poking through his stuff once, and actually have several of them loaded on my own tablet. I want Lucius’s take on him to make sure we’re not wasting him.” Damian glances at the tablet on Timothy’s desk curiously, but lets it be. It isn’t relevant for now, though if Lucius is taking an interest Damian can’t help but wonder how long it’ll be before this Tucker is helping with Bat Tech.
Father, who had been reading over the report Damian had brought, hands it off to Timothy to read as well. “The League has convened the UN about the ECTO Acts,” Father says tiredly. “They were signed in during Luthor’s presidency, and Clark managed to sic Lois on it. Apparently, not even Luthor knew about this, he’s publicly denouncing the Acts and throwing his own support into their repeal with surprising vehemence. They should fall before much longer, and if there’s even a hint of pushback Wonder Woman’s already been authorized to call Oa in.” He rubs his chin, eyes glazing over slightly in thought.
Damian has been turning over Timothy’s report on what Fenton had told him, and one thing in particular keeps standing out. “We will have to ask about the radiation,” he says, not bothering to temper his words. “He said most of his hometown was contaminated, and he lived in the same dwelling as this supposed portal. What effect has it had, or still has?” It bothers him, this town irradiated by a substance that sounds far too close to the Lazarus Pits for his liking.
Timothy sighs. “I don’t want to, but I know we have to,” he says, and Damian almost snipes something cruel at him for it. He’s been trying to be better, however, and so he accepts the admittance for what it is, and tries not to unnecessarily berate the man for his weakness.
Father, as well, has caught on. “We’ll try and be gentle,” he promises softly. “I had considered letting Dick handle it, but they’ve been texting too regularly. He may catch Dick’s speech patterns.” Timothy is already shaking his head, sowing confusion.
He looks up at Father. “No. Go yourself,” he nearly demands. “If we’re going to do this, then do it right. You’re a core Leaguer, if you won’t be the one then he’ll have no reason to believe we’re taking this as seriously as those damned acts sound like we need to be. If he’s really that involved, he needs to know you mean business.”
Damian is surprised for a moment by how seriously Timothy speaks. Father merely nods, however, promising that they will do everything they can. The faint sounds of the elevator reach them in the lull, and Father stands, shifting himself back into his more public persona. Damian stands as well, intending to return to the Manor.
Fenton steps through, displaying no surprise that they’re still around. “The board’s looking for one of you if you’d like me to call the car for a quick escape,” he comments, voice kept light enough that Damian can’t interpret it as anything other than a casual offer.
Timothy and Father glance at one another, and Damian can see the thoughts churning, the ability to work longer with a very public ‘retreat’ of sorts. “Yeah, call the car. I do not have the brainpower to handle them today,” Tim calls, retrieving his suit jacket from the back of the chair.
Damian glances down at Titus, still laying at his feet. “Will Titus be a problem?” he asks, not wanting to be blamed for the dog later.
Fenton comes in with a briefcase, loading several folders, the previously delivered portfolio, what looks like a few blueprints, and Timothy’s tablet with impressive efficiency. “Not unless he’s gonna eat the seats. It’s about due a detailing anyway, don’t worry about the fur,” he says, handing the bag to Timothy once he’d finished shutting his computer down.
He walks them down, and Damian tunes Fenton out as they go over what his afternoon should have entailed and where they can reschedule a few things. Damian pats Titus’s head absently, the leash slung on his wrist just so he doesn’t have to hear people accusing the dog of being loose.
The ground floor is as busy as ever, and they make it to the door without incident. There’s a car idling, the driver stepping out and moving to open the back door upon catching sight of them. Father has just gotten started on his praise for Fenton taking care of Timothy as expected of him when something in the air shifts.
Before any of them can react, Timothy is pulled off his feet and Damian finds himself yanked by his belt. Fenton has scooped them both up, hip nudging Titus out of the way of a lunging Killer Croc. “Car. Now,” says Fenton, letting him go. Damian hadn’t thought the man could sound so serious, and finds himself obeying automatically. He and Titus are in the car, Fenton shoving Tim in behind him while the driver ushers Father into the passenger seat.
Father’s trying to get Danny into the car somehow, though Damian wishes they would just leave so they could get to their suits. Fenton, however, doesn’t display any of his easygoing allowance of earlier and pivots just as a growl sounds behind them. “Hand over the Wayne,” the rogue growls, and Damian’s hackles aren’t the only ones that rise.
Fenton turns with a sharp order to the driver to move, pulling a gun from somewhere and firing at a charging Croc. The round pierces the softer scales at Croc’s armpit, making him stumble in pain. Fenton doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward and ducking his considerable frame under the bellowing rogue’s body and executing a frankly impressive flip that throws Croc well clear of the car.
“Leave,” Fenton barks, and the driver promptly takes off, heading away from the fight.
Damian and Tim are both twisted in their seats, staring out the back windshield just as two brightly colored blurs swing past. “Look, there’s Spoiler and Signal,” Timothy says, clearly relieved. Signal has the ability to disorient Croc's enhanced senses and minimize potential casualties, so they all breathe a sigh of relief until they can get back to the scene.
Father looks at the driver. “You don’t have to take us all the way to Wayne Manor, if you can drop us at the hotel I can have our butler come get us,” he says, hoping to avoid having to traverse the entirety of Gotham twice.
The driver gulps, but doesn’t turn towards Wayne Hotel. “With the utmost respect, Mr. Wayne,” the man says nervously, “I cannot do that. Danny is harmless right up until he’s given a reason, and I don't wanna know what a man that size can do when he’s pissed.” They cross the bridge into Bristol in silence, though Damian’s interest is peaked.
It isn’t much longer until they pull up to the Manor, and all three get out without waiting on the driver. Father thanks them, Damian veering into the grass to walk Titus while they gather intelligence and figure out whether they are still needed during daylight.
Everyone has a comm in within minutes, though the fight is already over. “Danny really has a gun?” Nightwing asks gleefully, making Timothy groan.
Their comms crackle. “And knows how to use it; his aim was spot on,” Oracle chimes in, which means she’s already saved and secured the footage.
There’s cackling, and Damian rolls his eyes. “Oh, I definitely gotta meet this one,” Todd chimes in despite the faint sounds of a fight still happening in the background. He must still be in Crime Alley.
Damian ponders the day while he heads back into the Manor. “Would the incident be reason enough to seek him out tonight?” he asks suddenly. They need to speak with Fenton anyway, but the Killer Croc attack gives them the opportunity to frame it outside of actively hunting him down.
Father hums, but doesn’t reply. Damian doesn’t grow upset, however, because that was Father’s thoughtful hum, not the placating one, so he must have had a solid point. It appeases him enough to put Titus in his room before heading down to the Cave. They have work to do, and now they have more time to do it with.
Damian settles on a nearby roof. Night has long since fallen, the darker parts of Gotham in full swing. They’d stopped a few minor things, and Hood is rather busy tonight, but otherwise there is hope that the night won’t end with bloodshed. He wants to watch Father’s meeting with Fenton. Anyone who has met him isn’t allowed to engage, barring Father himself, so Timothy and Richard are both being kept away. Damian knows better than to interfere, but Father has also caught on to Damian’s possessiveness and this is someone who is close enough to the family to potentially irk him.
Black Bat is accompanying Father tonight. She’s wanted to meet him for some time now, and this is an unparalleled opportunity to get a solid read on him. It will mean introducing her civilian self becoming more complicated, as the mute community isn’t all that wide, but if she stays mostly out of sight they should be able to escape the pitfalls. She’s gotten far better about speaking lately, even if it isn’t her first preference.
Father approaches the row of townhomes that Fenton recently moved into, getting the window of the middle unit open with ease. Black Bat follows him, little more than a shadow flicking through. Everyone’s comms are open to catch the conversation. He knows Timothy is listening in particular, and isn’t convinced that the young CEO isn’t compromised somehow. He’s being entirely too unreasonable about this.
There’s the faint sound of a door opening. “Love the new water pressure…..Well shit. Hey, Sam, I’ll call you back,” comes Fenton’s voice.
Damian’s brow furrows. “Make a habit of calling people from the bathroom?” Father asks, sounding almost disappointed.
There’s snickering in his ear, but a soft sigh floats through that must have come from Fenton. “No, not usually, but one of the units had been having issues so I was checking in post shower before I crash. Is something actively on fire or can I put pants on first?” There’s another round of snickering, but Damian can see the faint silhouette of Father stepping back into the sitting room.
Fenton comes out shortly afterwards in sweats and a t-shirt, still toweling water from his hair. “Alright, hit me,” he says tiredly, dropping into a chair. It’s definitely not a normal reaction to Father, and Damian doesn’t know what to think.
Father studies him for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asks instead of immediately diving into the reason for his visit.
Fenton snorts. “If you’re talking about the guy from earlier, yeah. I’m fine. He’s not the first overgrown lizard I’ve met with illusions of grandeur and he doesn’t hit nearly as hard as the last one did,” he says, earning a fresh scowl from Damian.
Father, too, visibly scowls. “You’re referring to the ‘ghosts’ of Amity Park?” comes the question.
Fenton nods, Damian can see it from here. “Yup. Don’t really expect you to believe me, no one does,” the man offers flippantly. Father tenses. “My parents punched a hole between dimensions in our basement, and the denizens who previously did not have access now had a door that was basically kept wide open 24/7.” He doesn’t sound at all concerned, and Damian wonders what those ‘denizens’ look like.
There are several concerning things in that statement, but Damian knows they cannot afford to be side tracked. “And the radiation?” Father asks a touch more sharply than before.
Fenton sighs, pulling one leg up so he can rest his chin on his knee. Damian understands now what Timothy had meant when he said Fenton had gotten almost resigned to defeat when he’d explained all of this in Metropolis. “Ectoplasm doesn’t have radiation like you’re thinking, but it’s the closest word we have to describe it. It’s energy, and naturally there’s a……an aura, almost, constantly surrounding it. Amity Park’s air is honestly probably composed of just as much ambient ecto as it is oxygen at this point. It seeps in. Bonds.” Damian’s arms cross, teeth grinding. If this substance is changing people, then what does that make Fenton, and how much danger is Timothy in?
His eyes are locked on Fenton’s form, and he’s surprised when there’s a warning click in his ear. “Black Bat just texted me, she’s staying out of sight,” Oracle says to the main comm line. “She says he’s hiding it fairly well, but he’s scared. Like he knows what they’ll do. Like he’s been caught before.” There’s a strangled wheeze from Timothy that echoes across comms.
Father has also paused, seeming to study the man in front of him while he listens. “Oracle, you saw those experiment logs, you know what they’re doing to the ones they catch, he better fucking have not been one of them,” he snarls, a rare kind of rage from the usually analytical vigilante.
Damian takes a breath. “Not everyone is what they seem, Red Robin,” he reminds the man curtly. “There is a reason Father is meeting with him.” He’d thought this obvious.
“Does it make him any less deserving of human rights?” Richard asks quietly, halting Timothy’s almost certain responding tirade.
“We need to know what we missed if we’re going to properly correct it,” Father’s voice comes through, softened from his usual growl when he’s in the cowl.
Damian refocuses on the scene below him, the enhancements in his domino lenses allowing him to catch the despondent look Fenton gives Father. “You missed laws that allow inter-dimmensional genocide,” the man says hollowly. “Nothing else I can tell you will matter while those laws are in effect, because attempting to bring attention to anyone impacted by them will only bring us to the GIW’s attention in turn. As long as they have the ability to swipe me off the streets and drop me down a hole so deep even you couldn’t reach me, there’s nothing else to say.” There’s a finality to his tone that tells them all that he won’t be saying anything further.
Damian’s brows furrow beneath his domino, watching Father extract himself from the townhouse with a promise to see change made. Black Bat has already exited, and Damian doesn’t know for sure when that happened. It doesn’t matter. Father grapples towards the clocktower, and Damian wastes no time in falling in with him. The others all make their way in once they realize where he’s headed, as well.
Oracle is typing away, digging as she’s been doing consistently since Timothy’s revelation. “That didn’t tell us anything!” Brown groans as soon as she comes in.
Damian glances around, realizing that even Todd has come. He hadn’t expected that. “Actually, he told us a lot,” the crime lord counters. At her confused look, he shrugs. “He confirmed there’s an entire race of interdimensional beings, and he confirmed that those laws are being seen as genocide. Honestly, that alone means whatever these beings are, if we don’t fix it they could very well declare war. Added to that, he confirmed that humans messing with things they shouldn’t are what caused the clashes that the government agency is hiding behind, and have condemned other humans affected by their folly to be stripped of their rights. Whatever else this new dimension is, every problem being cited by the Ghost Investigation Ward was caused by our side.”
Everyone is quiet, parsing the truth of his words. Even Oracle’s typing had slowed briefly. “How long will an updated presentation for the Justice League take? We need to move on this new information quickly,” Father says gruffly.
Timothy leans against the side of Oracle’s desk. “I’m worried it’ll look suspicious if I call out of work the day after Batman visits Danny,” he mutters softly. “It may take me a couple days to mesh it against everything we’ve gathered from the GIW servers. I can probably have Danny just block my schedule off part of the day so I can work on it from the office.”
Father nods, seeming pleased with the answer. “I’ll help, and hopefully streamline the process,” Oracle says softly. She’d done the research on Danny, and somehow they’d still missed this. Damian can see clearly that she’s not taking it well.
Richard shifts from his spot on Oracle’s other side, leaning against the wall. “I’ll hang around, then,” he offers softly. “Help cover RR’s patrols so he can stay at the big computer. Sooner we get this up to the Watchtower, the better. It’s always a process getting established legislation overturned, and time may not be our friend.” Damian glances among his siblings, taking them in. Everyone has some variety of tension for having missed something of this magnitude.
Black Bat steps out of the corner she’d been sitting in, drawing most of their gazes. “We know now,” she says with her usual unshakable surety. “We can fix.” Nearly everyone nods, Timothy muttering that he’s heading back to the Cave to get a head start on his presentation. The rest of them are quickly dispersed back to patrols, and Damian swings off towards the Upper East Side just in case Ivy and Harley are planning mischief. Gotham doesn’t stop for a single crisis, unfortunately, but they have weathered worse and they will weather this.