Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Danny was summoned was after Pariah Dark was locked back into his personal time out coffin. At the time, he hadn't made that connection. (In his defense, he was confused as to what was going on, where he was, and why his skin felt simultaneously too tight and too loose. It was a supremely uncomfortable feeling on top of a whole lot of confusing information.

The first time led to a fight, because Danny's life was an actual shitshow, he swears to any god listening. The people who summoned him were seriously fucked up dudes with actual glowing runes on the floor, blood splattered everywhere, and there was a decapitated goat head involved. He didn't even give them the chance to finish their villainous monologue, just started throwing hands because what the actual fuck.

He fought the dudes (villains? Cultists? Magicians? Who even knew), buried the goat head out of guilt, and flew back home. (FROM MEXICO! It took him hours!!) Jazz grounded him for not stopping to call her once he was out of the danger and realized what country he was in and he didn't think much more about it. Except for the poor goat; he thought about the goat sometimes and was very happy he never had nightmares about the poor thing. What the actual fuck even was that?)

It took Sam summoning him for the realization to hit that being summoned wasn't just another ghost power. Tucker laughed at him as the realization hit him and Sam cackled until her knees gave out.

Danny was summon-able because shoving Pariah's ass into time out gave him the old man's titles. Destroyer of worlds. Bearer of the Crown of Fire. Keeper of the Ring of Rage. High King of the Infinite Realms. Commander of the Immortal Legion. All-Father of the Nightmare Realm. Defeater of Shadowed Ice. Holder of the Staff of Time.

There was a scroll of titles! That were now Danny's! The scroll, when unrolled, was as long as Jazz was tall! DANNY HAD SIX FEET WORTH OF PRETENTIOUS TITLES TO HIS AFTERLIFE! Why was his life (death? Afterlife? Existence?) this way??

He may have been a little rougher with Plasmius during the next fight after that discovery. It was petty and pointless because Danny sure as fuck wouldn't want Vlad with any of these powers or associated duties, responsibilities, or loyal subjects but that wasn't the point. The point was Danny was a Child King, essentially, and mad about it. Fuck Vlad Masters at all times anyway. The fruitloop was a grade-A ass.

(Some of the titles were cool, through. He could admit that. And Pariah's lair was a castle with a moat of acid, which was pretty cool. There was some nonsense about how once he was done going through it it would collapse in on itself since its Ghost was no longer housed there, but that might be after Danny was 100% dead so...Future Danny will have even more cool stuff.)

All of this to say, that when he's sitting at a table with Sam and Tucker in a park with some drinks and feels the tug in the center of his chest, he knows what it means.

“Oh, c'mon.” Danny whined as he felt the tug all along his stomach, the sensation of a hundred fingers trailing down his back and he tasted...spearmint? Maybe?

“Oh, a summoning! Haven't had one of those in a bit; here, have a new phone!” Tucker said as he shoved a new cell into Danny's hand because this wasn't new anymore.

“I'll tell Jazz. Turn off that phone's tracker and I'll tell Ellie you would LOVE a glitter bomb for Christmas.” Sam threatened and reached over to take Danny's half finished boba tea.

“Rude!” Danny managed to get out before he went intangible and let the summoning tether pull him away.

It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to figure out how to ignore summons and some additional trial and error to figure out how to metaphorically slam a door into someone's face if the summoning felt too icky. And now, during his last months in his junior year of high school, he had summoning down to an art. He would get better as more time passed, as practice made everything easier, but at least now he didn't have to worry about being summoned in his pajama or during a shower.

(He managed to yank his boxers back on for that one. Thank everything because it was a frat party that summoned him and they had been massively drunk. They screamed, he screamed, they apologized and begged him not to kill them, it was a whole thing. Once he got them calmed down, one of them managed to give him a pair of jeans and a shirt and they all went their separate ways. At the time, it had been mortifying but looking back? That had easily been one of the most hilarious things he'd ever been involved in.)

He was spat out in a parking garage, which wasn't as unusual as it sounded. There was a summoning circle drawn in chalk, ringed by electric tea lights at the cardinal points, and a bowl of burning sage and mint. A favor summoning? He hasn't had one of those in almost a year.

He let visibility come over him as he settled the tail of himself into the bowl. His hair swayed around him and he nudged the crown of fire into the shape of a collapsing star. It was a pretty sight but also a visible indicator that he was not just some random ghoul playing trickster.

“Who calls?” He asked, feeling pretentious as his voice rumbled through his chest and around the enclosed space.

“I request a boon of you, All-Father.” A woman's tired voice responded. She was to the East of him, which was an interesting place to stand for a favor summoning. Standing to the East implied she thought she was of a standing to bargain for a boon – most favor summons stand to the West, with the implication being they were willing to accept any favor the being they summoned bestowed upon them. The North was for simple favors – people looking for general good news, a bit of luck, lost items of little significance, things like that. The South was used exclusively for prayers; he usually didn't come for those, just sent general good vibes.

He was, at this base, a protector spirit so he was able to provide favors if he wanted. It didn't hurt him to reach into the ether and smooth out small wrinkles in a single person's tapestry of fate, not once Clockwork showed him the trick to it. He seldom had anyone summon him for a favor he wasn't able to grant with just a few bits of his ectoplasm sacrificed.

“What boon do you wish?” He asked as he tried to think of what kind of favor someone like this well-dressed woman would even want from a ghost. (He was pretty sure that pantsuit was designer label – he thought he saw Jazz rent one for her last paper presentation.)

“Make me the Chief Financial Officer of my company. They're going to choose that mangy cur because of the way it would look but I deserve it! I've sacrificed years of my life for this company and that beast was only hired because it looked good to have more diversity in the upper roles. My father is on the Board and my grandfather was the CEO of the company we merged with – if not for his actions, we wouldn't have been able to expand into the European market! My connections make me perfect for the role and my degree is exactly what the position is looking for. I'm clearly the better choice, but they won't promote me because of their stupid diversity quota! That beast will sent all our profits to his various child brides or whatever those people do!” The woman said vehemently.

How the fuck had this bitch found his summoning? If it was Pariah Dark's summoning, that would track, but he didn't do favor summonings for pretty obvious reasons.

“And why should I grant you this?” He asked, changing the crown of fire into a black hole. Chances are he was not going to be giving anything to this racist woman and he might even go looking for the person she's talking about to see if he could drop a blessing on them just to spite her.

“You have to! I have an exchange!” The woman cried out and Danny felt his eyebrows arch at the sheer audacity. Oh, so she thinks just because she gives him something shiny or –

That was a whole ass baby.

“What is this?” Danny hissed, the black hole atop his head pulling heat and light out of the space around them. The woman held a wrapped infant out in front of her, like she was offering him a laptop or something equally inanimate and not prone to wiggling.

He snatched the child out of her hands, holding them close to keep the wiggling babe from meeting the concrete below them. The baby was awake but quiet, settling against Danny's chest trustingly. They were so small; he's never seen one this small before. The blankets wrapped around them seemed to be the only clothes covering the child - were they even wearing a diaper? Both wrists and ankles seemed free of any kind of hospital tag but surly they should still have one? Shouldn't they still be in the hospital at this age?

Did...did this woman kidnap someone's baby!?

“The exchange has been accepted then?” The woman asked, sounding expectant and smug. If Tucker heard her, he would absolutely want to trip her into a puddle with dog pee in it.

“This child is not yours to bargain with.” Danny said and his voice almost made him flinch due to how much like Dan he sounded. Dangerous and on the wrong side of rage.

“He's more mine than anyone else's. My stupid sister and her worthless cur are dead, so the mutt fell to me. It's a dark mark on our line, so it as well be used for something worthwhile.” The woman retorted with a scoff. He was sure his face was doing something, but he was so angry it was taking considerable concentration to stay in a human shape at all. The baby in his arms was clearly mixed, his skin closer to Tucker's shade than Danny's, and this woman was talking about him like he was a mistake. A piece of dirty trash to be hidden away – what had happened to his parents? Was his mother aware of what her family thought of this child? Had she died scared about what would happen to him? Had she even wanted her family to get custody if something happened to her and her...partner? Spouse?

He felt ice start to creep along the wedges of his awareness. Under him, the tealights popped as his anger grew. The garage went dark as all light was sucked into the crown of fire, heat following after to leave the concrete level they were in to get colder and colder as he cradled the baby close and wrapped any bit of warmth he could keep around them.

He let the crown reform, feeling the blue fire of his rage condense into a stately crown. His crown always looked different, never seeming to settle into a single form, but this felt more like a diadem with something sharp and heavy at the temples. It (and maybe his eyes, they felt like they were burning) gave off a faint light, enough to throw his features into something inhuman. His mouth felt awkward, like when he first got braces back when he was ten. His teeth must have elongated – that was going to feel interesting when he went back to his human form.

“I give you nothing, for this insult!” Danny snarled. “Be thankful for your life, you fool child!” Danny yelled, letting his voice crash into the cars around them with enough force that the metal and plastic bits screeched as they buckled inward. The woman screamed and threw herself to the ground, raising her arms to cover her head as Danny turned himself and the baby invisible and intangible to fly out of the garage.

He was furious and the baby was upset – whimpering and wiggling but not crying. Why wasn't he crying? Was there something wrong with him? Was he mute? He was clearly distressed, why wasn't he crying?

The woman had been speaking English and sounded vaguely American, at least to his ears. So hopefully he was still in the United States.

He took a breath and settled down on the roof of what looked like an apartment building. The baby was wiggling and his face was scrunched up and red. He let himself transform back into his living form, thinking about skin contact and warmth, and spent the next few minutes arranging the boy against his chest, skin to skin. He really wasn't sure that if that counted towards all babies and not just newly born ones, but he was so small. He was wrapped in one blanket and there was a diaper, at the very least, but other than that he didn't have anything else on him. His diaper didn't feel wet or heavy, so there was at least that, but he really needed to do something.

The baby stopped wiggling and twisting once Danny got him settled as comfortably as he could and it was...certainly something to be so close to someone so small and fragile. He wondered if Dani came out this small, if any of his other clones had been this small. (He wondered if anyone held them as they melted. If it hurt. If they were scared or confused or in pain. He hopes they were empty shells, that maybe that was the reason they were unstable.)

He held one arm under where the baby's bottom was, keeping him snug against him under Tucker's button up shirt that he had swiped, and used his other arm to reach out to put his hand against a nearby wall that was probably built as a windbreak. It was dark out but the city he was in was lit up enough that the stars weren't visible from where he was. He could hear cars down on the street, people murmuring as they went about their night, a few air conditioning units whirled away, sirens in the distance, and soft footsteps approaching him from behind.

He turned his head and watched as the actual real life Nightwing walked towards him with open body language and empty hands. So, he was definitely still in the United States of America, at least. Now to figure out if he was in Blüdhaven or Gotham.

“Hey there.” Nightwing – actual Nightwing, Sam was going to lose her mind – said as he stopped a polite distance away and eyed him with the kind of curiosity that could only mean Danny was being profiled in the most casual way.

“Hi. Nice night?” Danny asked and immediately felt like slapping himself. Who opened a conversation that way?

Nightwing smiled and wow, that certainly was...a wonderful smile. Even with most of his face obscured, that smile was doing the work! If not for the fact that Danny was pretty sure Nightwing was older than his older sister, he would be swooning about that smile. Damn.

“It is.” Nightwing said in response, like Danny hadn't just said something ridiculous, and he walked up to peer down at the little face poking out of Danny's shirt. “And who is this cutie?”

“I...I don't actually know.” Danny admitted and looked back down at the little boy. He was awake still, looking at the faces above him, and he was still so quiet. He didn't look upset anymore, thankfully, but he had been so quiet this whole time. Surely that wasn't normal?

“They're not yours?” Nightwing asked casually as he reached out to trail a gloved finger down the baby's cheek.

“No, I...I was just given them. Like a transaction – here's some money, give me my food. Here's a baby, give me a promotion I don't deserve. Same way!” Danny said and felt like he was starting to loose the plot a little. Did Nightwing wash his gloves? Was he rubbing grim and blood and dried saliva and who knew what else over this baby's cheek?

“Hey, hey, let's calm down, okay?” Nightwing said soothingly as Danny realized with a start that he was starting to panic. He was at the very least on the East coast and there was a baby! In his arms! That some psycho gave him for a promotion! A PROMOTION! What was he going to do with a baby! He was in his junior year of High School, he couldn't take care of an infant! He would barely take care of Dani and she lived out of a van! All he did was set her up with an identity, steal money from Vlad to give her, and make her van so it could travel both on Earth and in the Ghost Zone! Yeah, he also built her van so it was a proper home on wheels, but van-lifers did that all the time! He called Dani every week, made sure she had submitted all the tests for her GED, but he wasn't her parent!

Was this baby's family going to look for them? Was it just that his aunt was a racist dirtbag but her parents weren't? Did she have other siblings that she kidnapped their nephew from? What about the other parent's family? Were they looking for a missing baby? What about child protective services? A foster family?

“It's alright, just breathe kid, you're doing good, just keep breathing.” Nightwing said as if from underwater as a hand settled on his shoulder. “Take a deep breath, now hold it with me. That's good, just bit longer. Okay, now breathe out.” Nightwing walked him through staving off a panic attack, which was super nice of him.

“Sorry, sorry, I think it just hit me that I have a whole ass baby and no idea what to do with them.” Danny said, feeling a little lightheaded.

“Yeah, I had wondered what the story was there. Meta teen appears on an apartment roof cradling something and then wraps it up in their shirt? Makes for an interesting patrol, that's for sure!” Nightwing said good-naturedly.

“Ah, yeah, sorry if I gave you a mild heart attack.” Danny said in response. He should probably correct the assumption that he was a meta, but at least metas were legally recognized as humans with rights and protections so...better to be a meta than an ecto-entity in a legally dubious situation with a legally dubious baby.

Fuck, he really hoped the GIW didn't have any offices around here. He wasn't sure if any of the satellite campus' could track summonings but he knew the Illinois headquarters could. He was going to have to be on alert once he got back home – at least now he knew his parents would try to get those assholes out of their city, if only because they legally swiped their research and patents. His parents may not be actively trying to hunt him down and experiment on him, but they were still...weird about the whole Halfa thing.

(Sometimes he wondered if this was some kind of karmic payback for them being so cool about the trans thing. Their kid turns out to be trans? Totally cool, fully supportive, 100% in his corner. Their kid turns out to be half ghost? Multiple conversations about fixing him, trying to get him back to normal, saying he was the exception that proved the rule in regards to ghosts being evil, non-invasive experiments that only stopped once Jazz walked in on one and blew her lid. They loved him, he knew that, he just wished they loved all of him.)

“Don't suppose you have a description of the person that gave you this child?” Nightwing asked, which broke him out of his contemplation.

“Oh, yeah, uhm...A white woman, she looked older – I'm not good with ages but definitely older than college students – and I saw her from above so I'm not sure about her height but she looked...average? She had shoulder length brown hair and was dressed well – a tan pantsuit that I'm pretty sure my older sister once rented for a fancy college thing, she presented a paper with her professor about some neuroscience thing – and she was talking about wanting a promotion to the position of CFO, which should narrow things down by a lot. She didn't have any facial scars and I didn't see any tattoos or any facial piercings – I didn't notice if she had pierced ears, but that doesn't mean she didn't. She mentioned a sister that died – apparently this little one is the sister's and he's mixed, which the woman who gave him to me certainly was opinionated about. Like mega racist, kind of opinionated.” Danny described and Nightwing nodded to show he was listening.

“That's a lot of information, thanks. The nearest hospital with a pediatric wing is United Gotham on 8^th, it's about three miles from here, are you comfortable coming with me there or would you prefer I take the boy myself? If you choose the later, I'll just need you to describe how you got this kid in more detail before I let you go or you can come with me and I can stay with you while GCPD questions you, since you look like a minor. I'm legally allowed to sit in on questioning with minors and if the cops try to tell you to make me leave, I can legally tell them to fuck off and respect your rights in place of an advocate or your guardian.” Nightwing explained and he had clearly done this spiel before. Being a sanctioned vigilante sounded like it had perks – Phantom had the legal right to be cut open without anesthesia and then taken anywhere the government wanted to place him with no questions asked.

Ancients, he hated the American government sometimes. Also, thanks Nightwing for telling him which city he was in, really appreciated it!

“Uhm, I can go to the hospital. I'm a little worried about the baby and would like to talk to a doctor about him. I can follow you if you wanna grapple there, that would be faster – I can fly.” Danny said like an awkward duckling.

And so they went. Following Nightwing as he swung through the air was amazingly cool – it may not be flying, but it certainly looked like it. And it also really showed how much Gotham (and Wayne Industries, to be fair) had retrofitted so much of the city to be vigilante friendly. There were so many places for a grappling hook to hold onto that were very clearly reinforced and made to some kind of code. There were multiple street signs that were large enough to be seen from above, and angled so they could be read from above, and a few of the taller buildings Danny saw had places on the outside for someone to stand or sit at while still looking over the city, but with cover in case of rain probably. The Hospital's upper floor was basically the vigilante floor – there was an entire emergency room up there and what looked like an ICU, along with the normal patient rooms. When Nightwing opened the door from the roof, it was into a fully stocked emergency room.

Amity Park's only Hospital wished it was this efficient. When he was Phantom, he had to use the ambulance doors like everyone else even when he was bringing in civilians who had unfortunately gotten in the middle of a ghost fight or on the wrong end of the GIW.

It was a busy half hour of doctors taking the baby from him, nurses talking to him about the baby (after they asked after his own health! What the hell even was Gotham???), getting to watch them take some saliva samples from the boy, getting him into hospital baby clothes (which were a thing, apparently, who knew?), and one of the nurses handing him a bottle and teaching him how to feed the boy when he asked if he could do it when they talked about getting him fed.

He vaguely knew how to feed a baby – one of Tucker's cousins had one recently and Danny got to feed the girl once – but it made him feel better to have a nurse give him a refresher. The baby was underweight, but not dangerously so, and he wasn't chilled (thank everything) but he was showing signs of dehydration. When he mentioned how the baby hadn't made much noise, the nurse in the room had mentioned that might be a sign that he was used to being ignored, which was heartbreaking. But also apparently might be a good sign, in that it would have to have been a recent thing since he was only a little underweight. So most likely his aunt had been the one neglecting him and he was so little he might be able to jump back from it easier than if it had been long term neglect.

Nightwing stayed with him the whole time. He even held the baby at once point, after taking off his gloves (which were removable with an invisible seam at the elbows; Jazz was going to be so smug about being right about removable gloves) and washing up! It was watching Nightwing coo at a baby and wishing he had a phone that made him remember he did in fact have a phone in his chest. He fished it out and asked to take a photo of Nightwing, who grinned and agreed. And then he sent that photo to the only contact in the phone, which was the heavily encrypted server Tucker had built from the ground up.

Holy Batman is that a baby?! Tucker immediately responded.

I think you mean “Goodness Nightwing, is that a bby”. Sam responded. Danny rolled his eyes.

I'm in Gotham and yes, that is in fact a baby. Good eyes, Tuck!

Ur not funny, either 1 of you. Thanks for the confirmation that the GPS on that phone is in fact working. Tucker responded.

This is going to be a WILD story. Sam said and Danny closed out of the app as it seemed the police were here.

Joy.

Chapter Text

“Mammoth Park is clear. I sent Red Robin home, since it's a slow night.” Dick reported.

“Still think them calling that space Mammoth Park is peak rich people bullshit.” Red Hood responded and there was the distant sound of metal on metal in the background.

“You good, Hood? That sounded ominous.”

“Finishing up for the night. I missed the rack's rear handle but my baby is unharmed.” Jason said smugly.

“You absolute nerd – who calls their shitty bike their baby in this day and age?” Dick teased.

“My bike is awesome and tricked out; it has a place for a bazooka. I will call it my baby until I can no longer repair her.” Jason retorted.

“No, go back – did Hood just say the naming committee of Gotham were on rich people bullshit and then talk about his very expensive, custom motorcycle? Did I just hear that right?” Tim cut in with an audible grin.

“Fuck off, trust fund, I pulled my baby's broken body out of the scrap yard myself.” Jason said and Dick wondered if he should comment on how calling any of them out for having a trust fund was straight-up bullshit, considering that Jason himself still had a trust fund.

“And who helped you build that damn thing out, huh? This trust fund, that's who.” Tim snapped back, sounding pleased more than annoyed.

“Watch it, Bleeding Bird, I know where you're nesting tonight.”

“Bleeding Bird? Oh my god, that sounds so metal and so cringe all at once.” Tim laughed.

“I give you an early out from patrol and here you are, still on comms. I had no idea you missed your older brothers so much, baby bird!” Dick cut in before they could really get going.

“Fuck all the way off back to Blüdhaven. Red Robin out for the night, don't call me unless something explodes.” Tim said and Dick cackled – he could almost hear Tim's red ears.

“I'm out for real, too. Try not to need me, I know it's a lot to ask, but you'll have to make the attempt.” Jason said sarcastically.

“Love you too, little wing.” Dick said and grinned as Jason snorted before going silent, no doubt turning his comm off and taking it out for the night.

“Just you and me now, Boy Wonder.” Oracle said once a few seconds had passed without any little brother's piping up for one last word.

“Yeah, probably going to call it – hold up.” Dick cut himself off as he saw a teenager come into being on a nearby rooftop.

“Status?”

“I'm fine but if you could see if there's any cameras nearby, we might need them. There's a teenager – clearly a meta considering they just appeared on the roof of the apartment complex to the immediate northeast of me – and they're putting something in their shirt.” Dick reported as he started to make his way to the edge of the building he was on, already tracking the routes to get him from this roof to the one holding the mystery teen.

“The fact that you can automatically figure out where North is in relation to yourself doesn't make you cool, loser.” Oracle said warmly.

“You're just jealous of my mad skillz.” He retorted before he took a running leap.

“I could hear the Z replacing the S in that, you old man.”

“Our slang is the best slang!” Dick responded and his oldest friend chuckled in his ear.

“I have an eye in the sky, you're good to approach.”

The teen appeared to be caucasian, with dark hair and of average stature. They were wearing slacks and a button down shirt, which was currently being used to cover something that was looking less and less like contraband now that Dick was closer.

“Oh, that is definitely a baby.” Oracle commented quietly.

And she appeared to be correct in that assessment. Well, at least it wasn't some kid wanting to get high or drunk and try to experiment with their powers – that way led to property destruction, upset guardians, pissed off police, and tears.

The kid seemed to get the baby settled and looked out at the city, reaching up with a hand to steady themselves against the brick that made up the covering for what was probably the air filtration system for the building. They didn't appear to be hurt – their clothes were tidy, free of rips and stains and Dick couldn't see any obvious signs on blood. He didn't have a good view to be able to see if this was a young parent coming up to breastfeed in quiet or something else.

“Got anything for me?” Dick asked softly, watching the teen carefully to see if this was a good distance for speech or if he was too close. The teen didn't tense or try to “subtly” look around them, so he was going to assume he was at a safe distance for speech, even if his inner Bruce was giving him a judgmental look for it. If the kid had heard him and was good enough to keep that to himself, that was it's own kind of tell, after all. (See, Bruce? He wasn't totally throwing away all caution!)

“Yeah, I got a good still for face-rec. Name's Daniel Jensen Fenton, goes by Danny according to cursory social media glances. Junior in high school, he's sixteen and has been in full social transition since coming out. Parents got his name changed legally when he was fourteen and from what I can see all the documents they can change his gender markers on before he's eighteen, they have. He is assigned female at birth so the child could be his – would explain what a teenager from a small town in Illinois is doing in Gotham. No criminal record – a few disturbing the peace citations but this looks like normal teenagers being dipshits, not anything bad. I can do a deeper dig if need be.” Oracle reported and Dick hummed as he processed the information.

Well, no time like the present.

The boy turned as Dick walked up to him. He made sure to make his approach appear nonthreatening and was making an effort to make his footsteps as audible as possible. If this kid was in a city not his own with his new baby, best to assume he'd be jumpy. Doubly so if that wasn't his kid.

“Hey there.”

“Hi. Nice night?” The boy, Danny, asked and made a face that Dick was intimately familiar with – the mental why am I LIKE THIS was practically written in flashing neon colors across his face. Dick grinned and manfully kept his laughter to himself.

“It is.” He agreed and took a few steps closer to peer down at the baby. The baby was adorable and also clearly not a newborn. At his guess, he'd put them at around two months. Mixed race, but that didn't rule out them being Danny's biological child. He hoped this was a case of teens forgoing protection or maybe a broken condom situation and not something more sinister.

“And who is this cutie?”

“I...I don't actually know.” Danny said as he looked down at the baby held skin to skin, under his shirt.

That...certainly was an answer.

Dick reached out, mostly to see how Danny would react, and felt some of his own tension ease when the teenager didn't try to pull the baby away. Said baby didn't seem distressed, but the fact that they were held by a teenager who didn't so much as know their name in the middle of the night in Gotham? Didn't exactly bode well.

“They're not yours?” He asked casually and pushed his luck even more by actually touching the baby's face. Danny didn't outwardly react.

“No, I...I was just given them. Like a transaction – here's some money, give me my food. Here's a baby, give me a promotion I don't deserve. Same way!” Danny was starting to panic, which from the sound of it, was a perfectly reasonable response. Assuming his story checked out.

“Hey, hey, let's calm down, okay?” He said soothingly as Danny's breath started to pick up into the beginning stages of hyperventilation. Either a delayed panic response to somehow stumbling into a botched kidnapping or a reaction to getting caught kidnapping a baby.

Dick worked with Danny to calm him down over the next several moments. One of the first things Bruce had taught him was how to handle people going through trauma and all the various ways that was expressed. It was his first official job as Robin – calming down victims.

“Sorry, sorry, I think it just hit me that I have a whole ass baby and no idea what to do with them.” Danny said once his breathing had calmed.

“Yeah, I had wondered what the story was there. Meta teen appears on an apartment roof cradling something and then wraps it up in their shirt? Makes for an interesting patrol, that's for sure!” Dick responded and he still wasn't sure if Danny had kidnapped a baby or not. He needed more information.

“Ah, yeah, sorry if I gave you a mild heart attack.” Danny said and trailed off as he looked down at the baby to adjust his hold.

“There aren't any Amber Alerts out currently for any children under a year old so chances are the child wasn't grabbed from any healthcare or childcare facility.” Oracle reported. So, the baby would have been taken from a private individual, most likely. And either no one had noticed their absence or it was within the last hour, as the federal Amber Alert system updates every hour for new reports.

“Don't suppose you have a description of the person that gave you this child?” Dick asked. He knew Oracle would be able to make a quick profile from Danny's description and start a search, which would be helpful for when they handed this off to the Gotham Police. Or, Danny would stumble over trying to think of a lie quickly and Dick could use that to hopefully get the child away from him.

Danny's description didn't seem faked – there was a lot of information that was jumbled as he clearly tried to remember enough relevant information to give. It seemed more and more likely that Danny was telling the truth, which was it's own issue, but at least it meant that Dick wasn't going to have to arrest a teen for infant abduction so small mercies, he supposed.

“That's a lot of information, thanks. The nearest hospital with a pediatric wing is United Gotham on 8^th, it's about three miles from here, are you comfortable coming with me there or would you prefer I take the boy myself? If you choose the later, I'll just need you to describe how you got this kid in more detail before I let you go or you can come with me and I can stay with you while GCPD questions you, since you look like a minor. I'm legally allowed to sit in on questioning with minors and if the cops try to tell you to make me leave, I can legally tell them to fuck off and respect your rights in place of an advocate or your guardian.” Dick laid out the options and watched Danny think it over. He knew that Gotham wasn't an easy city to be a meta in, but luckily Danny didn't live here.

It wouldn't be dangerous for him to be on the Gotham City Police Department's radar, if he chose that. Heaven knows how many Gotham-born metas he had dealt with on the down low for the sole purpose of ensuring they didn't end up on some list that might find it's way into some kingpin's hands or a rogue. Duke and Kate periodically went through the GCPD's unofficial meta registry to erase names, addresses, descriptions, and sometimes even places of employment before handing it off to the state's Department of Metahuman Services for Gotham PD's annual discrimination against metahumans lawsuit. Fucking Gotham.

(He loves Gotham but there is a reason he lives primarily in Blüdhaven. Sure, in a lot of ways the cities were very similar, but at least in Blüdhaven it didn't feel like he was fighting both uphill and through sludge against corruption. He may have gotten every commissioner he ever worked for arrested for various crimes and often got his fellow officers arrested and sent to jail but in Blüdhaven they stayed in jail for their whole sentence. And he made damn sure they couldn't get re-hired. Sure, Dick Greyson has more assassination attempts to his name than Nightwing due to him fighting corruption, but he's making progress!)

(He is. He swears he is.)

Danny chose to go to the hospital and speak with the GCPD. The admittance of flight certainly made Danny's presence in Gotham make more sense and it was always amusing to see out of towners so quietly awed by Gotham's hospital set up. Every hospital in Gotham had been remodeled to have a full emergency room, intensive care unit, isolation rooms, multiple patient rooms, and even labs for registered heroes and whomever they brought in. And, since the passage of the Hero Healthcare Act, more hospitals around the country were going to get this set up. He was super proud of all the work that went into making that a reality. One day, this set up was going to be in more than just Gotham, Metropolis, and Star City.

But until then, it was always amusing to see people so quietly blown away by coming down stairs from a roof into a fully functioning ER.

Danny handed the baby – a little boy estimated to be between three to five months – off and Dick settled in to observe and wait for an officer to get there.

“I notified the GCPD that you had a witness to a possible kidnapping and finalized a preliminary profile of the suspect for the hand-off. The officer assigned to this case is coming from the east end so she'll be there in about forty minutes. Gotham United's social worker for tonight is on call, so chances are they won't get here until the morning, since the baby isn't in medical danger. ” Oracle reported.

By the time the officer arrived, the baby had been checked over, put into a hospital onesie, fed, and was asleep in a little bed in a patient room along with Danny, who was (most likely) messaging on his phone. Danny had a little prior experience with small children – he mentioned a friend's newest family member when Dick had talked about Roy's daughter. He didn't need to be taught how to hold a child that small, but had requested a nurse stay while he fed the boy, just to make sure he was doing it right.

Danny was a good kid who reminded Dick of Jason back when his brother was a young teenager. They were both cheery and effortlessly personable – every nurse that came in left the room with a smile. Danny joked with Dick as they waited, at one point they got into a bit of a pun off, which made Oracle groan in his ear. It wasn't hard to get information from Danny but Dick did start to notice that the teen kept a lot of personal details to himself. He clearly knew better than to tell a perfect stranger – even a well-known vigilante – things like his friend's last names, his parents names, and his city name. If not for Oracle already giving him that information, he wouldn't even know the kid's last name.

The officer arrived in the middle of Danny telling a story about an old teacher of his that finally retired after a class prank that involved silly string, bad English accents, and the reenactment of an old trail that helped create the city he lived in back during the civil war. It was hilarious and in good humor, but apparently the fact that the teacher lost control of the class for an entire lesson was the final nail in the coffin for them. Dick was grinning so much his cheeks ached and only exposure to Joker Toxin saved him from gasping for air as he laughed.

“Normally, if I come into one of these rooms to laughter, it's a bad sign, but I guess there are exceptions to everything.” Officer Greene, as indicated from her name badge, said as she came to stand in the doorway.

“Evening, Officer!” Dick greeted as Danny's laughter trailed off.

“Nightwing.” She greeted with a nod.

“Hi.” Danny said with a wave.

“Hello, young man, I'm Officer Greene with the Gotham Police Department. I understand there's been a found child?” Officer Greene opened with.

“Uh, yeah – he's right here.” Danny said as he indicated the still sleeping baby.

“And how did you find this child?” Officer Greene asked as she sat down in a chair to pull out a pen and notepad.

“Oh, it's a weird story. So, I'm not from Gotham. I'm from a town in Illinois and I was here because one of my friends said I couldn't fly here and back in a single night but I totally can, so I did. Oh, uhm, I'm a meta by the way – I can fly. Anyway, I was flying over a parking garage looking for something that was Gotham enough to prove I wasn't just in some random city when there was this woman who called out to me? I thought something might be wrong so I went down and she started telling me she summoned me? And to give her a promotion over one of her...co-workers? Or maybe they hired out of company instead of internally – that was kind of unclear, come to think of it.

"Uhm, but she was doing that and I was just confused because I wasn't summoned? I just flew here and happened to see her so...it was weird and I was thinking she might be nothing more than just a horrible racist and then she held out the baby? And I was like holy shit that's a whole, actual baby! And she just started demanding her promotion in exchange for the baby and I was like uhm what?? And I maybe played into her delusion, which I know you're not supposed to do, but she was holding him wrong and I was afraid she'd drop him. I took him as she continued ranting about how she has rights to sacrifice the baby and then I just...flew away?

"Because she was totally crazy and what if I had actually been some summonable thing and she gave me the baby to...I don't know, eat? Like, taking the baby away from her seemed the right move. And I just...left. And then, when I was far enough away I couldn't see her anymore, I settled onto a rooftop to look the baby over. He didn't have any clothes on, just a diaper, and only one blanket. I remembered that skin contact is important for newborns so I tucked him against my chest, because I wasn't sure when babies outgrow that need. And then Nightwing was there. And it hit me that I was just handed a baby?! And, like, what do I even do with a baby?! Nightwing calmed me down and suggested we head here, so here we are.” Danny said in an uninterrupted string of contentiousness.

Only in Gotham could a story like that sound 100% plausible.

“Well, that does sound like a harrowing story.” Officer Greene said once she had let a few moments pass in silence to make sure Danny was finished talking. “I have some clarifying questions.” She continued and Danny nodded.

“You said you're from Illinois. What city are you from and I'll need your home address.”

“I'm from a little town called Amity Park. Uh, do you really need my address?” Danny asked, looking over at Dick.

“Yeah, she needs it to complete her paperwork and to have a place of contact for you if any followup needs to happen.” Dick explained.

“Exactly. You're not in trouble, we just need your address.” Officer Greene said with a smile.

“Um...okay, so my parents don't know I snuck out of the house so is there a way to maybe...not mention that? If you do need to contact me?” Danny asked hesitantly.

“It would be hard to explain what the Gotham police would want with you, without mentioning the fact that you were here in the first place.” Dick explained gently.

Danny bit his lip and Dick wondered if it had hit Danny that chances are his parents would absolutely be finding out about his nighttime flight because he was being interviewed by the police, who would be contacting his parents.

Ah, teenagers.

“Yeah, okay, I didn't think of that. So, my address is 2549 Willow Park.”

“Holy shit, when you get back to the cave, remind me to show you the street view of his house.” Oracle said in his ear.

“Thank you. Now, could you describe this woman who gave you this baby?”

“Sure, I gave Nightwing a description too so if I forgot something since, he's got one too.” Danny said. He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts, before continuing. “She was a white woman, looked older than the average college student, which I feel qualified to state because my older sister is in fact a college student, and she seemed average in height. Not too tall, not too small. She had shoulder length brown hair and was dressed well – very office chic. She didn't have any facial scars, tattoos, or any very visible facial piercings. I didn't see if she had pierced ears.”

The description matched the first one he gave, just more streamlined.

“I've got a few hits that could be who he's describing that I'll include in the handover.” Oracle said as Officer Greene was jotting things down.

“Alright, that helps a lot. Now, onto the last part of your story. You said you took the boy because you were concerned for his safety, is that right?” Officer Greene asked.

“Yeah, that woman may have looked very put together but she was clearly having...something. And the contempt when she talked about him being a stain on her family, it was just wrong. My boyfriend is African-American, there's nothing wrong with him! This boy is an infant, he's not a black mark or something – he's a baby!” Danny said passionately.

“Did you see anything that indicated the baby was in immediate danger?” Officer Greene asked.

“Other than the fact that she wanted to use him as a bargaining chip with something she could summon in the middle of the night in Gotham?” Danny asked sarcastically.

“Yes, did this woman seem to be hurting the boy? Was the baby in distress?” Officer Greene asked and Dick cut in.

“According to the pediatric team here, the baby was indeed in distress. He was brought in with signs of dehydration, malnutrition, and he's a little behind where he should be in verbal development.”

“Thank you for that, Nightwing. But, getting back to Danny's actions: Is it accurate to say you didn't have any reason to think the boy was in immediate danger?” Officer Greene continued to push.

“No, I had reason to suspect he was in danger. That woman said herself she wasn't his parent. She thought she summoned me somehow and then proceeded to try to use that baby as currency. She didn't care who or what I was, she just gave him over. For a promotion at work.” Danny said defensively.

“Danny has stated that the woman gave the boy over willingly. She clearly thought it was a trade.” Dick spoke up again.

“I'm just trying to see the whole picture.” Officer Greene said.

“Of course. Perhaps you'd like to look over baby doe's medical file as well? I know it'll be in your case file but since you want the whole picture.” Dick said with a placid smile. Officer Greene gave him a thin smile in return, clearly sensing Dick was getting annoyed.

“I'll be sure to grab it after this. Do you have anything else to add, Danny? Any additional information?”

“No.” Danny said and turned to look at the baby, clearly expecting this interview to end.

“Why don't you and I get that file, huh?” Dick said as he stood up. Officer Greene stood as well, her knees creaking.

“Found him atop Inlay Apartments on Thermal Street. The Batfile will give you camera stills, the initial perp description, and any additional notes we took.” Dick said as they left the room.

“You buy his story?”

“It's Gotham – we're known for weird shit happening. At least the sacrificed baby lived this time around.” Dick said grimly.

“Jesus wept, Nightwing.” Officer Greene said, aghast.

Chapter Text

Sam looked down at her phone, scrolling through the photos sent to her of Gotham Baby Boy. The kid was super cute and Danny was stuck spending time with the little squirt as they were both still in state custody while Jazz was on a plane and their parents were out of contact. Which was totally code for them still being with the State Department on some military base showing off their more normal weapons which was just typical of them, really.

Not sure how many times I can tell my dad that my girlfriend is vegan before it sinks in. 😑 FFS, even I wasn't this bad when you started your diet and I was 12! Tucker texted. 

I feel like that might have been an attempt at a sex joke??? 🤔 She sent back. 

YOU ARE KILLING YOUR BOYFRIEND, SAM!

2 for 2 😇

S A M 😱 

😘😘

But seriously, my dad wants to know what to make you for the bbq bc just a salad isn't enough for a Foley Backyard. 

Tell him if he lets me take you away for 2 hrs that would be good enough 😏

I don't want to DIE so no. 😇 

She snorted and flopped back onto her bed, thinking about what she could actually suggest for the upcoming weekend get together.

Fine, spoilsport. 😛 Give me a moment to think. 

👍 I gave the suggestion of veggie kabobs since we have just SO MUCH eggplant. And I'm trying this eggplant dish that I want you to tell me if you like it so that will be A Surprise. So if you have anything else, hit me. 

She smiled at the message, holding the phone to her chest as she let affection bubble inside her. She loved it when Tucker experimented with dishes for her, even if she ended up not liking them. Out of the two of her boys, Tucker was the one who cooked while Danny was the one who gave her priceless scrolls, tomes, or books of magic or Gothic horror. She was spoiled by them, truly.

❗❗, I know! Your aunt made those bean sliders at the reunion, remember? I loved those, they were delicious! 

I will tell dad! 

She hummed to herself as she rolled to the edge of her bed to reach for her current reading – Danny had gotten his hands on a scroll of an old epic that seemed to be a family drama set in verse. He told her it was written in Old Hejazi, which was apparently super old Arabic, and so far she really enjoyed it. Sure, she couldn't read it for long periods of time as the magic that let her read it at all gave her a killer headache if she used it for more than three hours, but she was about halfway through it!

Her phone pinged again and when she looked at it, the notification was for the group server so she put her reading down and flicked the app open. Her phone vibrated against her skin, green flashing through the lines and gaps, before the app opened and pulled up the chat.

So fun fact, Robin is a bby liminal and I am having Emotions about it

“Well, shit.” Sam muttered and waited as she saw Danny was still typing.

Signal + Robin just left after talking to me + he was totally pinging on my radar but I don't think he knew what was going on? He's like somewhere btwen our classmates + the babies in town? Nothing too crzy but enough for me to clock him. 

Sam dropped the phone to her bed and swung herself into a more comfortable position. If the GIW tracked Danny to Gotham, which they might given he was summoned there, Robin wouldn't show up on a passive scan of the city but if they happened to find some of his blood? It wasn't a high chance of them finding some of Robin's blood, but being a city hero wasn't exactly a walk in the park so it wasn't out of the question that the boy might have left a smear of blood somewhere...

But they'd have to be looking for it, probably. She doubted a city like Gotham was alright with having the blood of its protectors sitting out in the open – she'd never met Gotham's neverborne, but she had met Amity's and Amity Park never liked to leave Danny's blood anywhere it could be found. It had even started to absorbing her and Tucker's blood if they dripped anywhere within the city. Even Danny's ecto was usually absorbed or tucked back into a shadow if Danny got hurt enough. 

She ran her tongue across the back of her teeth and reached for her phone again. There were some messages that she had missed so she spent a few moments reading them over.

If you don't have an autograph or a photo, I SWEAR TO THE ANCIENTS DANNY! Tucker had texted. 

What the photo of nightwing w bby wasn't enough for u?

ROBIN WITH A MOTHERFUCKING S W O R D

Am I not enough 4 u??

DO YOU PATROL WITH A SWORD?? No, you do not! DO YOU PATROL WITH THE MOTHERFUCKING BATMAN!? NO!

harsh but true. he told me he only gave autographs to the dead/dying and it physically hurt me to not take advantage of the situation to get one. 😭 

So no autograph? 

No 😭 

No autograph, no head. 

😱 BBY NO, PLZ!! 

Sam cackled and went to respond and then the worst thing happened:

GUESS WHO IS IN THIS CHAT AND DIDN'T NEED TO READ THAT AT ALL. 🤢 Jazz texted the group chat. Sam made a sound that wouldn't be out of place from a cat and threw the phone away from her, even though she hadn't been the one to type anything incriminating. 

She felt her face light up and frantically tried to remember if anything spicy had happened in the newest group chat. She didn't think so?

Wait, if Jazz is texting....she landed in Jersey! She scrambled to pick up the phone again.

I FORGOT U WERE HERE!!! JAZZ, PLZ, U DIDN'T C ANYTHING!!

I am BLINDED, Daniel Jenson Fenton!! BLINDED!! And you better be using protection if there's oral happening AND ANYTHING ELSE. SO HELP ME!!!! I will DROWN YOU in safe sex pamphlets!! ALL THREE OF YOU!!

Jazz, plz...plz...

Sam took a breath and slapped her cheeks to get over her nerves. It was just Danny's older sister, this was fine! If you can't talk about it, don't do it! Sam lived by that motto and now it was time to prove it.

Jazz, I assure you we're all safe and we're sorry we forgot you were in the chat. Also, as much as I appreciate that you are there for us to talk to if we had any need of it, we actually already have a bunch of pamphlets from Planned Parenthood. And several safe sex, sex positive online resources available to us. 

Sam wondered if it would be too much to mention the condoms and dental dams.

Probably.

What Sam said and now that you've landed and informed us, I am going to die of mortification. See you all this weekend. Or maybe you won't, since I shall be DEAD. And HIDING in the Zone. Tucker said and knowing him, he probably went to lie down with his face in a pillow. 

Oh, yeah, you txting means you're here. Do u have the address of the place to pick me up? 

I did land. And we're talking about this DANNY. In person. Also yes, I have the address and the paperwork and once my lyft gets here, I'm calling the group home to inform them I'm in state and to arrange to pick you up.  

I will miss the little dude but it will be nice to go home. 

Sam hummed, even though Danny couldn't hear her. Gotham Baby Boy was indeed a cute baby and she  was guessing that Ellie was going to be getting a lot of calls from Danny to make up for having to leave the little guy.

Well, since Jazz is there, good night and see you when you get back. Don't get tracked or hurt. If any of the GIW show up, kick em in the balls. 

Lyft here. Have a good rest of your day, Sam. I am going to buckle in, send the ride deets, and call the home.  

And then, like a good modern woman getting into a stranger's car, Jazz sent the lyft share ride information along with the Wayne pin-me share link so they could track her phone if the driver shut off  lyft's tracking software.

Duke landed on a perch, stretching his left shoulder out. It still twinged a bit from a fight a few days ago, but he could work through it. Robin landed near him, turning to look out at the city (and shield his eyes from the sun).

“Daniel seemed to handle the situation well.” Robin said idly, as he pulled out a fruit bar from his belt.

“He did.” Duke responded and took the granola bar Robin offered to him.

“I could not find any indication that Dr. Fenton – either of them – responded to any of the text messages their children left. The messages have been read, at least according to the phone's systems, but neither party responded. Even though the weapons testing of their trip ended and they are no longer separated from their cellular devices.” Robin said flatly.

It had taken Duke some time to understand Damian but he's gotten much better – the whole family has, really. It certainly helped that they all had years of exposure to Bruce and his own communication quirks. The fact that Robin was even bringing it up was the important part, not the way the information was delivered.

“They probably trust that their eldest has everything under control.” Duke said as he bit into his bar.

“Jasmine and Daniel certainly did have everything in hand. Daniel informed his parents that the Gotham PD and New Jersey's Department of Child Protection and Permanency would be calling them and not to worry when they saw the missed calls. Jasmine informed them she would be getting on a plane to pick her younger brother up and would be wiring the cost of the flight from the parents' account to hers once they return home.” Robin said and handed Duke the wrapper of his patrol snack. Duke folded it up with his own and put it into an empty pouch on his belt.

“Considering their house, I think its safe to say that the Dr. Fenton's are...eccentric. It's not unusual for that to extend to more than just their work.” Duke said carefully.

“They are neglectful to the point where both of their children are clearly used to dealing with the day to day things and even emergency situations are dealt with between them with them informing their parents as one informs a boss they are going on their lunch break.” Robin said flatly.

“Sometimes families are like that, Robin.” Red Robin said over the comm.

“The United States of America marks all humans, meta-humans, and ten humanoid alien species that live within the country's borders as minors under the care and guardianship of their parents or other legally appointed persons until they reach the age of eighteen. Jasmine is newly nineteen but Daniel is still a minor. His older sister has not been awarded custody or guardianship of him but is clearly the one used to handling the responsibilities of such a role.” Robin said, his finger on his comm to make sure the whole of it went through without cutting out if he paused for breath.

“Are you...concerned for them?” Duke asked, unsure of what his point was. It was a pretty classic case of minor neglect, but those hardly ever get attention unless it ends in a death or injury. And Daniel only had a few years until he aged out of the system anyway, so unless he was in active danger, it wouldn't be worth the resources to investigate his living situation.

Robin clicked his tongue and jumped off the building, apparently too frustrated with the conversation to continue it.

“I'll get Dick to talk to him about whatever that was.” Tim said in his ear, clearly just between them.

“I think it might be another one of those why are rules not applied evenly thing.” Duke commented, as he shot his own grapple and took off after his youngest brother. 

“Oof, definitely a Dick conversation.” Tim said idly. Duke was about to comment more when Oracle took over the comms.

“Signal, Robin – there is a fire on Cambridge Avenue and the team there reports people trapped on the eleventh floor.”

“Copy that.” Robin said curtly.

“We're about five minutes away.” Signal said, after looking down to see what street they were above and doing some mental mapping.

“I'll inform the ground team there.” Oracle said.

Eight years ago, Janet Mays left her birth family for the last time.

She was twenty-one years old and had just graduated from Atlantic Coast College with a degree in hospitality management. She had waited until the last tuition fees had been paid; waited until her parents had thrown a lavish graduation party in her honor and invited every big name in the North American hotel circuit for her to network with.

She had already emptied her childhood bedroom of loved things when she moved out to Atlantic City for college and the first thing she had done after registering for her first semester was open her own bank account. When she was eligible to withdraw from her trust fund, she did it in one mass chunk. She gladly paid the taxes for it – even with them, she still had a sizable chunk of money all to herself.

And then came that night.

Her parents and her older sister were disgusted with her, furious at her. Things were said; things were shouted; things were thrown. She held her ground and took the slaps from her mother and sister both, howled her fury at them, and did not cry or stutter once.

She stood there, in the house that was built on the backs of people who looked like her most beloved Malcolm and was not ashamed of him. She screamed her love of him, proclaimed it to her entire family line, and would not be shamed or bullied out of it.

She was Janet Mays of the Mays Clan of Gotham and she loved a black man. She slammed the door behind her as she left, head held high and heart full of love and rage, and was not sad. She and Malcolm married two years after and she invited neither her parents nor her sister. She walked down the aisle by herself and shined with joy and love.

Life was not perfect but it was theirs and that made everything worth it. They moved to California, to Star City, where she managed a luxury hotel that overlooked the bay. From her office, she could see the ocean in the distance, sparkling and vast. Star City was nothing like Gotham, nothing like Atlantic City even, and she loved it.

A year after their marriage, Star City was ground zero for a failed invasion of Earth.

It had been a lovely July day. Hot but not too hot, humid without everything becoming sticky. They were having a family reunion to celebrate the births that had happened during the beginning of the year and the whole family was spread out across an acre of land, laughing and talking and eating. Janet was learning a Chapman family recipe from her father-in-law. It was a normal Saturday. 

By Tuesday, Janet and Malcolm were the last Chapman's left. 

It was devastating. It almost destroyed them. They left Star City, heartbroken and hemorrhaging grief. They landed back in Atlantic City, where they met and fell in love. They were no longer wide eyed college students, but they loved each other and all that grief, all that loss, all that misshapen and cracked love – all of it made a little bundle of joy. 

They named their son Amos. He was their new most beloved person. Every hair on his head, every breath in his lungs, was a blessing and they couldn't help but be enamored of every little thing he did. 

The day Janet Chapman died, she did not know it would happen. It wasn't a beautiful day but nor was it a miserable one – it was June and it was hot, but they were in the car with the AC running. Amos was in his car seat and Janet was turned around in the passenger seat to play with his toes. Malcolm was humming along with the music playing on the car radio in the driver's seat at a red light. 

They both died as instantly as one could when hit head on by a box truck. The car seat did it's job and saved Amos' life – he was removed from the wreckage with cuts and some bruises but that was all. The driver of the truck that hit them was drunk and ran the red light, narrowly missed a car going westbound, and plowed right into the Chapman's car. 

With both Malcolm and Janet dead, their I.D's in the car with them, there was no mistaking who Amos was. Amos Chapman was placed into the temporary care of New Jersey's Department of Child Protection and Permanency as they ran searches for any living relatives. His blood was sampled, his photo and little fingerprints taken, his DNA put into a database. Amos' blood showed that he was Ecto-Contaminated, but not at high enough levels to do more than put a pin on his lab results to mark that they should stay in the Ghost Investigation Ward's central databases for record keeping and passive tracking. It was unavoidable that Amos would be given to the only family he had left – the Mays back in Gotham. His grandparents buried Janet in the family plot, cremated Malcolm, and gave baby Amos to his material aunt, who hated him on sight. 

It's important to know how much love Amos got in his first two months of life. How much care he received from the moment Janet and Malcolm got confirmation that they were pregnant. It's important to know how shocked, how excited, how wonder-filled Janet and Malcolm were from the moment they knew about him. It's important to know that Amos grew up in a house filled with photos of his family, that his parents would hold him in front of photos of his grandparents and tell him that's your nana and pop! Janet and Malcolm were filled with love and remembrance. 

Ectoplasm is everywhere, in everything. It spills over into every living realm, dimension, and plane of existence from the Infinite Realms, every where and every when. Three generations of Chapman's were lost in the span of four days before Amos was born – He lost grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins aplenty. The Chapman's numbered fifty that day in Star City and in four days, they were whittled down to two. His parents kept their family close because what else would they do? His parents were full of love and love does not die just because the body does. 

A little over a month after Amos was placed with the Mays, his blood was drawn again for identification as Daniel Fenton took him into Gotham General; the lab results triggered an alert of high Ecto-Contamination and the results were sent to the nearest Ghost Investigation Ward office. There, it went through another database and the first lab report from Atlantic City popped up, the passive flag on that report meaning both were sent for manual review. 

From that moment, it was easy to ensure that the local authorities didn't get any identification information, even though Amos Chapman should have still been in the federal databases used by the GCPD and the FBI. Amos Chapman was misidentified as Baby Doe and Danny Fenton was allowed to take him along as they both went to the nearest group home. 

Arthur Beardsley was in charge of manual review of ecto-contaminated subjects in the Gotham office. It was mostly busywork – a lot of looking at medical reports, checking social security numbers or names against each other, digging for birth or death certificates. Occasionally he would locate subjects that would be a good fit for experimentation but most of the time it was just verification that certain persons were holding steady at various minor levels of contamination. Sometimes he got to reroute cadavers from various places to the scientific campus, which was a nice change of pace.  

It took him only ten minutes to look over both reports and reach the correct conclusion that the contamination was increasing at an alarming rate in this subject. It took another ten minutes for him to pull up what group home the subject was sent to and to verify that it was misidentified as a nameless found child. He marked that the subject would be a good candidate for scientific study and double checked all his forms, corrected a typo, and submitted the whole thing to his higher ups. 

And then he went on to the next manual review, idly wondering if he should get Noddles & Company or PokeFresh for lunch that day. 

Chapter Text

Gotham has an International Airport. This both makes perfect sense and no sense at all – Gotham was the home city of Wayne Enterprises, which was an international conglomerate that has branching fingers in so many industries and countries it was a name known worldwide. Strader Pharmaceuticals had their main lab and North American headquarters in Gotham; Drake Industries operated out of Gotham as well. Strader Pharmaceuticals worked primarily in South and Central America, dealing in medical drugs and research, and Drake Industries was known for selling their medical technology at loss in conflict zones or developing nations. It didn't matter that Drake Industries was currently in free fall and their CEO under investigation for all sorts of felony white collar crimes – what mattered was the near fifty years of history of the company needing multiple flights out of the country. It made perfect sense that a city like Gotham, which had at one time three major international companies with international business and clientele, would need an international airport closer than Newark or JFK.

However, Gotham was also a hotbed of organized crime, super villains, and held the title of the most unsafe city in the United States. Anyone who knew anything about Gotham would naturally assume an airport would be out of the question to have anywhere near that powder keg. But, against all odds, Gotham International had been an operational airport since the 1930's when Broderick Drake commissioned to have it built. And it had been opened to commercial flights since the 1950's.

All this to say, Gotham International's TSA were not fucking around on security. Danny was so thankful he didn't have any bags because the bag search looked intense. Jazz had a backpack that contained their documents, her phone, a textbook, her wallet, a toothbrush, and a pair of emergency undies. He knew that because the TSA had taken every little thing out of her bag to inspect it. It had taken them an hour to get through security screening. All Danny had, in comparison, was his school ID (brought by his sister), his ticket, and the phone Tucker had pushed into his hands before he was summoned away. And out of that hour, his individual screening took about thirty minutes.

“No wonder almost no flights end or start here.” Jazz grumbled as they were finally let through to the rest of the airport.

“Yeah, that was crazy. I thought the guys in white were intense about letting people leave Amity, that made them look lax!” Danny responded.

“Did any of them give you any grief? I know we were separated for our individual searches, none of them touched you, right?” Jazz asked, looking him over as she radiated concern and terse anticipatory anger in his direction, pulling him to the side a little ways away from the checkpoint. He noticed they were still close enough that if need be, his sister could march back in a few steps. He grabbed her hands from his shoulders to squeeze them reassuringly.

“No, they were fine. Over the clothes pat down with no bad touch or creepy looks. A lady TSA agent did my pat down and talked me through all her actions. You?” Danny asked in return.

“Same. I'm glad I actually looked up Gotham International's website before coming out here, they weren't joking with saying that people flying out of here should take four extra hours instead of two to get through security, jeez.” Jazz said as they resumed walking.

“I bet I could have just flew us home.” Danny said, mentally calculating how much Jazz weighed against the distance they would need to go and how long it would take him with a passenger. If he also made sure she was intangible so wind resistance wasn't an issue....

“I'm not making you carry me all that way unless I know for sure that 1) you can handle that weight over prolonged distance and 2) I can handle being carried for that long.” Jazz said as they stepped onto an escalator.

“I probably can but it might be uncomfortable. You think Mom and Dad would be up to helping me test something like that?” Danny asked. They stepped off the escalator and took a moment to look at the map right in front of them – Gotham International wasn't very big, which was good, as it looked like they didn't need to walk very far to get to their terminal.

“They'd be delighted to assist in an experiment on you.” Jazz said flatly.

“Jazz –” Danny started only to be cut off by his sister.

“No, Danny, I'm not going to let it go. I don't care that you have a higher pain tolerance or that you agreed to it. You're their son, of course you agreed to it! That doesn't make it informed consent on your half or ethical on theirs!” Jazz snapped, but quietly as they were in public. She radiated protective affection and hurt rage as she spoke and Danny made sure to take a seat next to her instead of spread out in their marked area so he could lean his head on her shoulder, pushing love and care and safety at her.

“You know they love us, Jazz.” Danny said quietly. Jazz rumbled in response, wordless agreement wrapped in jagged hurt.

About half an hour later, Danny got up to go wonder around a little. He'd never been in an airport before, his parents having been on the no fly list since before Jazz was born. He's seen airports on TV and gone to smaller ones, where you drove out to the hanger and boarded the plane there, with both the Manson's and Vlad but that was an entirely different experience than a commercial airport.

(Sam finally got her parents to sell their small plane, which took a bit of sabotage and Tucker making a cost comparison of their taxes before and after they had the thing, but Sam got what she wanted. They were all a little annoyed that they used all their hard work to brag to their country club that they were “so conscientious” of the environment and how the government was “so unreasonable” about regulations regarding private air use, as if even the new laws weren't mostly a butterfly bandage over a gaping, weeping wound. How such fruitloops made such a lovely puck as Sam was a true mystery.)

Gotham International was large and clean, which Danny supposed made sense. It was also extremely expensive, which he knew to expect, but seriously – five dollars for a small bottled water? Insanity.

He didn't stray too far from Jazz, knowing that she'd want to keep an eye on him, but just walking around felt good.

He was heading back towards his sister when he was stopped by a teenager holding an unfortunately familiar baby in her arms.

“Hi.” She said quietly, looking around in a casual way he recognized from back when he used to be on the lookout for Dash in the hallways, back before he died and came back a lot more durable.

“What the fuck, Briana?” Danny asked because really, what the fuck. How the fuck, even.

Briana opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Gotham Baby Boy opened his eyes and caught sight of Danny. He wiggled in her arms, twisting towards him, cooing and holding his arms out for him. He was between three and five months old, which turned out meant he could differentiate between people and he had gotten very attached to Danny.

“Hey, buddy.” Danny said quietly and reached out for him almost on autopilot. Briana handed him over with a relieved sign, rolling her shoulders out. The baby babbled at Danny, reaching out to pat his face and pull at his hair. Danny hummed in response, tilting his head so the little tyke didn't yank his hair out.

Briana wasn't wearing any of her jewelry and while she was wearing her makeup, her face wasn't nearly as done up as it was in all the rest of the time he had seen her. He didn't know her very well, what with only meeting her at the group home and spending what amounted to a few hours with her, but the signs weren't pointing to anything good.

“Why don't you and I have a seat and you can tell me what the hell you're doing here.” Danny said, more tired than upset.

Jazz, upon seeing them, wasn't exactly alarmed but whatever she was feeling was definitely related to it. Briana sat down heavily, taking a few deep breaths. Jazz reached out for her hand and Danny wasn't shocked when the other girl took it in a tight grip. Jazz was very good, after all, at getting people to lean into their emotions.

“Some men came to the home after you left this morning. Feds of some kind, apparently. I didn't even know anything was off until Miss Holloway came into my room with the baby, shoving him into my arms and telling me to take him and get out. She was frazzled and...it reminded me of the last time I saw my dad, so I didn't ask questions or stop to grab anything more than my shoes and let her rush me out. She managed to get me out into the alley before one of them grabbed her. I ran to my uncle's house and he was getting ready for work so it was easy for me to convince him to bring us with him. I said that if he snuck me in here, I could just leave the baby somewhere he'd be found.” Briana said and she clutched at Jazz's hand as she whispered, shaking just a little in fear.

“Your uncle brought you here?” Jazz said and she leaned back in her chair, pulling Briana with her just enough to get her to uncurl her shoulders. Jazz absorbed the remembered fear, pulling up the tired loyalty and affection Briana gave off as she thought of her uncle. Danny stayed silent and let his sister work.

“Yeah, he was the only one I could think of to go to. He's not really my uncle – he used to work with my dad, back when dad ran with Two-Face. I've known him since I was 10, he's always been so kind to me and he was really there for me when dad got killed. He took me in right up until the last time he got sent to jail. That's why I live at the group home – I'm allowed to see him and he me, but I can't live with him.” Briana said fondly. Jazz was running her thumb across the back of the other girl's wrist, listening to her intently.

Danny pressed a kiss to the baby's head, adjusting his hold as the little boy chewed on his shirt.

“It's a good thing you found Danny before we left.” Jazz said lightly.

“Yeah, I was just going to leave the little guy with a distracted family or set him down near a checkpoint but then I saw Danny and before I knew it, I'd come over.” Brianna said and she was a little pale.

“What a happy coincidence.” Jazz said flatly as she let go of Brianna's hand. Brianna didn't respond as she sagged against the chair like a discarded puppet. She blinked sleepy, breathing slow and deep. Her emotions were a tangled mess of comfort, trust, and the creeping sensation that something was wrong starting to creep up. It was an edge like burnt toast or a sharp edge in hard candy.

Jazz stared down at the girl for a few moments before she turned to march towards the nearest bathroom. Danny grabbed her bag and followed after his older sister. While he waited for Jazz to pull herself together, he bounced the baby in his arms to listen to him giggle.

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” Danny asked quietly. The boy made sounds back at him, reaching for his hair again. “I bet you'd love Sam's earrings or necklaces – they sparkle and dangle just so.” Danny told the boy.

“I'm not sure they'll meet but stranger things have happened.” Jazz said as she came back out. Her eyes were red rimmed and the sick feeling of shame mixed with the guilt lingered on her words.

“What should we do?” Danny asked, trying to pull back from his sister's emotions to give her at least some privacy.

“Can you summon someone that can open portals?” Jazz asked.

“I can summon Cujo but I'm not sure I'd trust him with a baby. I could summon Wulf but he'd want something in exchange for both the summoning and the transport and I'm not sure we have the time for that right now.” Danny answered thoughtfully.

“Alright so that's a bust.” Jazz said and shouldered her bag as they started walking back to the seating area.

“The way I see it, we have two options: leave him here or take him with us.” Jazz said. Brianna was gone when they made it back to E85 but they continued walking by unspoken agreement.

“Babies do fly free so we wouldn't have to worry about someone noticing a discrepancy if we took him with us.” Danny said.

“And, if it was the guys in white, they would have grabbed the file from CPS of the missing kid.” Jazz said grimly.

“And if it wasn't them?” Danny asked.

“Then we'll be home and can deal with it together.” Jazz said firmly.

“This is insane.” Danny said because there wasn't really a choice – they were taking this baby home with them.

“Too bad this one doesn't come with a name.” Jazz said dryly.

“He probably does.” Danny responded equally dryly.

“Ah, fiddlesticks, you're probably right.” Jazz said. “You think we'll get lucky and be able to find the little tyke's parents in the zone? Maybe ask his name, what they want to happen to him?”

“Well, we can certainly try.”

“Cassie! I’m so sorry I’m late, I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” A woman around her age in a colorful long skirt paired with a soft green T-shirt said loudly as she ran towards her. The woman was wearing minimal makeup, didn’t have any hanging jewelry on and her eyes were wide and watery. She didn’t have a bag or purse and she was gripping her keys hard, each key peaking out from between her fingers like little blades. She looked flushed, not like she was sick, but more like she had been outside rushing around with too little water.

“I didn’t wait long.” Cassandra replied with a small smile. There was a business a few doors down that had outdoor seating and indoor – a restaurant of some kind? – that Cassandra carefully steered the woman towards. She put her arm around the woman’s back, leaning close like they were friends. The woman tucked herself close, breathing fast and shaky.

Cassandra casually looked around, trying to spot the source of the woman’s distress. A group of students, laughing and chatting with drinks in hand. A few couples minding their own business. At least two families, trying to entertain small children and get to their destination. Three dog walkers. The two paparazzi she had tailing her from the subway.

And two figures in white suits that held their arms just a little too far away from their sides, their jackets falling in the telltale way of polyester over shouldered gun holsters. Caucasian, male presenting, both white suits cut in the same way, and a wired earpiece in both their left ears.

She opened the door to the business for them both, looking over the interior even as she asked for a booth for two of the host that was standing at the front. It looked like she had taken them to a brunch café – the room smelt of eggs and potatoes mixed with juice and coffee.

She steered the woman into the booth they were directed to, sliding into place next to her so as to keep her against the wall and protected from anyone who came in after them. The woman’s shaking had increased and she started to cry quietly as soon as she sat down.

“Could you get us some water and keep people from coming over here? She was followed by someone.” Cassandra said quietly to the host – their name tag said Wade – who was starting to look concerned at the state of the woman. At her words, they nodded and walked off.

“I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to do and then I saw you and panicked. Sorry for being so familiar, Miss Cain-Wayne.” The woman gasped out as she reached up to try to brush her tears away.

“It’s okay, I understand. What’s your name?” Cassandra asked. She wondered if it was okay to offer touch and what kind – she thinks Stephanie would have slung her arm back around the woman’s shoulder while Dick might have set his hand on her back gently. She wasn’t usually the one approached for things like this in civilian attire.

“Jamie Holloway. Thank you for acting like you knew me.” Jamie said.

“Here,” Wade, the host, said gently as they came back with two waters and a clean dish towel. “I had my boss put up the private event sign so you two will be left alone. I also brought a clean towel so you didn’t have to worry about fifty million napkins everywhere.” They continued.

“Thank you.” Cassandra said and wet the towel a bit before handing it over to Jamie. Wade left them as Jamie wiped her face and then reached out to drink some water. She was still shaking enough that some of it spilled down her chin and onto her shirt.

“Can I call someone for you?” Cassandra asked.

“No, no, I…” Jamie patted at her sides and then made a frustrated, lost noise. “My phone is still at work so…Fuck!” She cursed as another crying jag hit her. She covered her face with her hands, hunching miserably.

Cassandra reached out to put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, rubbing with her thumb in the way Tim did to her when her throat closed up after too much talking. She hummed softly, the gentle nonsense tune that Bruce hummed when any of them got hurt and he stitched them up instead of Alfred. It always calmed her down. She wasn’t the best of her siblings at comforting with words – she had never been Robin for a reason – but she thought she did alright.

Jamie rubbed at her face and breathed deep, offering Cassandra a small grin, as she reached again for the water. She wasn’t shaking as bad and her face was wet but she was able to drain the rest of the water from the cup without spilling any this time.

Cassandra took her hand back.

“Thank you, again.” Jamie said.

“You’re welcome.” Cassandra said and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you want to call someone?” She asked as she unlocked her phone.

“I…I was going to call my work but that might be pointless. They’re probably still dealing with those guys and…” Jamie trailed off, reaching up with the towel to wipe at her nose.

“If you don’t mind, maybe I can help if I know more?” Cassandra asked as she let her hand fall to her lap and her phone screen go dark.

“I…sure, why not?” Jamie said, mostly to herself. “I work at a group home for children – Turnbridge. We have a mix of kids all from Child Permanency and Protection, you know, CPS? A few hours ago, some group of people that looked like MIB in white showed up to take custody of one of our kids. They said they were taking custody based on some law I’ve never heard of but they didn’t have his assigned social worker and while they did have his case file; we weren’t told anyone was coming forward for him. The director told me to get the kid out of there, because the whole thing just stank of Gotham bullshit – I mean, a federal agency called the Ghost Investigation Ward? And even if they really were called that, what would a federal agency want with a literal baby?

“I got the kid out but they’ve been chasing me around the city ever since. They keep popping up! I tried going home, going to my sister’s house, my co-worker’s house, I even tried the police! But each time, those guys would either appear or already be on my tail and I’d have to run off like a dog from animal control!” Jamie said angrily.

Cassandra frowned as she thought it over. Those guys she saw outside were definitely with the supposed federal agency that came to grab what was almost certainly the foundling baby Nightwing’s meta teen had found. She recognized the name of the group home from the case file. And, federal agency or not, the group was able to access the New Jersey CPP database to grab the baby’s case file. And they clearly knew who Jamie was if they stationed people at her residence, her in-city family members, and her co-worker’s residences. Which meant they had regular access to the aforementioned database to be able to pull up information on workers.

“You couldn’t make it to a police station?” Cassandra asked, just to clarify.

“No, the one time I got close to the one on Edwards Ave, I was headed off at Penn Junction.” Jamie answered. Cassandra hummed.

“Well…we can call the police here if you’d like or I can call one of my brothers to walk us to the nearest station if you’d prefer. My brother Jason lives close by so it wouldn’t be too long of a wait.” Cassandra said, laying out the options.

“No, no, I couldn’t trouble them! I…I can just call an officer to come to me. I didn’t have my phone on me and I didn’t think to just go into a store and ask them to call them for me.” Jamie said incredulously, probably at how the idea didn’t occur to her when she was panicking and being chased all around town.

“You were running before.” Cassandra said gently and pulled her phone up to call 911. She could call the non-emergency line, but Jamie had already been chased all around for who knows how long so it would be better to call it in as a harassment or stalking concern.

“You can’t go back there, sirs! There’s a private event – “ Wade was saying from around the corner, their voice raised.

“Move or you’ll be arrested!” A harsh voice said in return and the two men in white suits came around the corner into view. They still had their sunglasses on and they moved with the kind of heavy march that spoke of being used to obedience.

“Jamie Holloway, you’re under arrest for infant abduction, interfering with federal agents pursuing lawful activity, and obstruction of justice.” The man on the right barked when he caught sight of them. He pulled out handcuffs from an internal pocket and Cassandra caught sight of his firearm. It was a standard semi-automatic pistol, which did seem to match with their claim of being federal agents.

“Who are you to arrest her? Under what authority?” Cassandra asked even as she pressed the power button on her phone twice while her index finger stayed on the fingerprint scanner. It vibrated in her hand.

“Excuse me?” The man on the left asked.

“You aren’t police and haven’t identified yourself. For all I know, you’re some new group of rogues looking to kidnap a woman in broad daylight.” Cassandra said and her throat was starting to throb.

“Miss Wayne, do not make things hard for yourself. We have the authority to make arrests based on the authority granted to us by the Department of Defense. We can arrest you too if you interfere and your adopted daddy’s money isn’t going to help you then, so why don’t you move along?” The man continued snidely. Cassandra stared him down.

“Hey now, why don’t we all just take a breath?” Signal said as he seemingly appeared from nowhere. Jamie jumped next to her.

“Boy, you're not doing yourself or the Bat any favors by interfering in federal business.” The man with the handcuffs said. Cassandra bristled and started to stand. Her little brother stalked forward, putting himself between the maybe federal agents and the table. He was tightly reigned in but on the edge of bursting into violence if needed, steps flowing and controlled.

“I'll need to see some ID.” Signal said. The man that was trying to loom over him – the one who had stepped towards the table with the handcuffs – smirked down his nose at her little brother as the other man held out an identification booklet.

“As you can see, I outrank you, Boy. Now hand over this criminal and I won't try to get you thrown into a jail cell.” The man continued. His face was very punch-able – his nose straight enough that breaking it would be very satisfying and from what she had seen of his teeth, they would rip through his lips at least a little.

Jamie hiccupped and Cassandra darted a glance at her to see she was crying again.

“Funny you should bring up rank, Agent Roberts. You'll find that in this instance, as in so many others, I outrank you. The Justice League has some follow-up questioning to do with one Jamie Holloway, so I will actually be taking her into custody for that right now.” Signal said smugly and that was a good way to ensure Jamie would be taken care of.

Cassandra stood up, gently helping Jamie to her feet. Her little brother moved forward, backing the men up without needing to do more than just take a few steps.

“You're making a mistake with this.” One of the men said.

“Feel free to take that up with your supervisor when they come to talk to you later.” Signal said in parting. He kept to the side closest to the men as he started to walk them out of the café. Around them, the shadows lifted up into a small circle around their little group, clearly meant to discourage anyone from trying to grab either of them.

Chapter Text

Tim had to admit – this was one of the weirder ways to find out multiple cases spread out across the birds and bats were interconnected. Not the worst way, but definitely the weirdest.

“I didn't even think they were legit.” Duke said with a mix of hopelessness and dismay.

“I wouldn't have thought to connect some of these cases if not for those guys, so...go team?” Dick responded, equally as mystified.

“To be fair, missing bodies and missing persons is an easy connection to make. Combining those with grave robbing, identity theft, environmental dumping, and weapons running? It's no wonder we didn't notice how close our individual cases were getting until Signal brought the string connecting them to our attention.” Jason pointed out.

“The sheer amount of dumb luck...” Barbara said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“It is impressive how it was incompetence that unmasked such a travesty.” Damian commented idly.

“I can already tell I'm going to love this debrief.” Bruce said as he came up from the part of the cave dedicated to their vehicles.

“Yeah, it's going to be awesome. Definitely not something we're going to have to bring up to the wider Justice League.” Tim said sarcastically. He was already mentally writing up the report they'd need to give about this fuckery. So much for taking Bernard out for his birthday; he'd better come up with a good apology gift.

“Joy.” Bruce deadpanned as he want to the changing area to start dismantling his gantlets to take his suit off.

“I'll go up and tell Alfie we're gonna be late for dinner.” Stephanie said and leapt for the stairs, kicking off the back of the chair Cass was sitting on.

“Timothy, come check this – I think I found another shell company.” Damian announced from his place at the Batcomputer.

“Oh, c'mon, really? Why the fuck do government agencies do this? It's doesn't actually hide shit!” Tim complained as he set down the lab analysis of the water from Sprang River back where it went. Barbara would skin him if he fucked up her organizational system.

“Bet the shell is for the energy weapons.” Jason tossed out.

“Nah man, it's totally to pay off the officiants for the grave robing around the country.” Duke countered.

“Drugs.” Cassandra tossed out.

Tim looked over the paperwork Damian found, mentally cross referencing names, locations, account numbers, and time frames. It was definitely a shell company – the money leaving was flowing into one they already found. And the head of this company – judging by the paperwork, some kind of land evaluation company – was the same as the head of a third shell company.

“Yeah, this is another shell for the Ghost Investigation Ward. What's interesting is the date it was incorporated – we'll need to check if it was backdated digitally, but if not, this might be one of the first shells created. Good catch, Robin.” Tim said and he pretended not to notice when Damian's shoulders pulled back a little in pride. Damian was still prickly when perceived.

“Of course it was a good find – I'm not an amateur. Also, you're all wrong; this is clearly being used to fund research. Almost all of the listed staff are scientists with PhD's.” Damian said as he turned the chair around to face their siblings.

Smug little prick. If he wasn't so tired, he would absolutely mess with his hair and damn the consequences.

“Can you all give me the short version or would it be better to wait for the whole report?” Bruce asked as he came over dressed in sweatpants and a thin shirt with the words Batman and I are never seen together, coincidence? That was clearly one of Dick's shirts.

“Alfie says he can hold dinner for another thirty minutes!” Stephanie yelled from the top platform, leaning her arms on the railing. She had pulled on one of Duke's hoodies and Tim was pretty sure those shorts were his.

Fucking clothes thieves, his whole family.

“I think we can give you the short version.” Dick said.

“Alright, let's hear it.” Bruce said as he took a seat at the planning desk. Damian left his seat to go sit near Bruce, which seemed to be the signal the rest of them needed to take their own seats at the table. Stephanie waited until everyone had found seats before she did an entirely unnecessary, but equally awesome, flip off the platform to land atop the table. Cass clapped in appreciation and leaned forward to give her a kiss.

“Brown, get your filthy shoes off the planning table.” Damian snapped. Stephanie laughed as she hopped off the table to lounge in the chair next to Cass'.

“We have about 20 minutes before Alfred drags us topside by our collective ears, so let's get going.” Bruce said before anyone else could derail the debrief. Duke snorted in amusement before opening with:

“About a week ago, Cass was approached, in civilian attire, by a woman named Jamie Holloway. She was a childcare worker at a local group home used by the New Jersey CPS for temporary placement of minors. She was being perused by a group who claimed they were federal agents and felt unsafe. The director of the home she worked at also doubted their credentials and spearheaded the removal of the Baby Doe from case BMJ24 from their custody. As the feds caught up with Miss Holloway, Cass sent out a distress signal. As I was nearby, I came to de-escalate the situation. The agents tried arresting Miss Holloway but as I wasn't sure they were legitimate officials with arresting power, I took Miss Holloway into custody by citing the Justice League.”

“Signal took Miss Holloway to a JLA approved holding facility – safe house AGF273 – and we got a more through understanding of what lead her to seek safety from the nearest Wayne.” Dick picked up the debrief seamlessly. He brought up a photo of Jamie Holloway on the planning table for them to view.

“While we were crosschecking her story, it was discovered that the agents did, in fact, belong to a legitimate body working as a sub-branch of the Department of Defense. This agency was originally a science division under the EPA but was reclassified about eight years ago. With that reclassification, they gained field agents with arresting power. However, the fact that they persistently cut off Miss Holloway from two police stations and her parents, who have an attorney on retainer, was enough for us to encourage her to seek legal council for possible malpractice on the agents part. We delivered her to Kane & Sullivan for further legal council.” Dick continued.

“While we were confirming the Ghost Investigation Ward's legitimacy, one of the agents employed triggered a case connection. The case was for BMJ34, opened and worked by Robin.” Damian cut-in, pulling up the abstract for the case mentioned on the table. He somehow never made it sound weird when he referred to himself in third person.

“The case was about a missing corpse. The body of one Grant Schwartz was supposed to be delivered to the Rankle Funeral Home on June 4^th but what arrived in it's place was an urn instead of a body. Upon research, it was discovered that the digital paperwork for the transfer of the body from the state morgue was altered to show the body as cremated with only the ashes delivered to the funeral home. The family was adamant that was not what they agreed to, as the Schwartz's are Jewish. In addition, the funeral home had physical paperwork showing the body was originally to be delivered whole in order to be buried. The Federal Agent's name showed up as the authorized user who made the change in the county's system.” Damian continued.

“And the ashes in the urn? Were they belonging to Grant Schwartz?” Bruce cut in.

“No and we have no evidence of what happened to the body itself. The ash that was delivered to the funeral home wasn't from any mammal according to forensic evidence, thus the reason the case was passed to us to investigate.” Damian said quietly.

“It was this unexpected connection that caused me to wonder if we had anymore weird links and it turned out, we did.” Dick said after a few quiet moments, giving Bruce and Damian time to mourn the loss of Grant Schwartz's body, just in case it had been burned or left without rites somewhere. He reached out to put his hand on Bruce's shoulder, thumb moving visibly.

Tim wondered if it was a nonsense comforting pattern or if he was tracing Hebrew letters. Kaddish wouldn't be appropriate, he didn't think, but then again, he wasn't very familiar with Jewish funeral customs beyond the most basic of things. It gave him low key anxiety to think of them, as the only people in his life he would need to know them for were Bruce and Damian and the thought of having to attend either of their funerals made his lungs seize in his chest and his skin crawl.

(He should know about them anyway, he knows he should. It...would be respectful and he knows that just knowing about things doesn't make them happen but in their line of work even the most ridiculous of superstitions are always at the edge of everyone's minds. Just in case. He should learn about them but every time he tried to open a book about it or talk to Rabbi Stone about it he almost sent himself into a panic attack. It was ridiculous, he was ridiculous and disrespectful and – )

“We have found a wide array of connected cases that together paint a concerning picture that we feel needs League intervention. We think the GIW might be breaking some meta protection laws and there's definitely some inter-species ethical ramifications if I'm reading some of the laws they've gotten passed correctly.” Barbara said, breaking Tim out of his rapidly spirally thoughts.

“We've compiled a list of the crimes and regulations broken by members of the agency and of the agency itself.” Damian said after clearing his throat.

“The short version is alarming enough; I can only imagine what the longer version is going to be like.” Bruce said grimly. Dick retracted his hand, leaning back in his seat with a grimace.

“I can already tell you that Supes, the Lanterns, and Wonder Woman are going to be thrilled.” Jason said dryly.

Bruce signed in what could only be resigned defeat; Tim sympathized.

Danny was in Algebra II when a ghost wearing what looked like a cheap Tron outfit crashed through the window.

“Behold, for when light hides during the mid-day doldrums, the breeze of mischief – “ The ghost started to monologue, voice warbling like a scratched CD, and Danny pulled out a Fenton thermos. He didn't even bother to act frightened, just clicked the thing on and pointed. The ghost screeched as they were dragged into the device, swearing dire consequences or some other such bullshit.

“Thank you, Mr. Fenton. You're still getting written up for being late. ” Mr. Willis said. Danny squawked in outrage but couldn't find any good excuse to defend himself as his teacher just plowed on.

“Now, as I was saying, this upcoming unit we will be concentrating on – “ Mr. Willis was interrupted, again, by a five man team of white clad idiots in their paramilitary gear bursting through the not destroyed window, because why come through the already broken window when they could break more shit?

“White automatic guns? Are you fucking serious?” Someone – it sounded like Ellen Dawson – muttered incredulously as the Guys in White started to bleat about protecting them all from the ghostly menace. Mr. Willis started yelling back at them about the disruption to his class and Danny pulled out his phone because this was probably going to take awhile.

giw here bc y not? He texted Sam and Tucker.

US gov't agency hinders American Education System, more @ 11 Sam responded after a few seconds.

If only they could hinder my class too. this is racist. 😑 Tucker replied and Danny snorted in amusement.

giw = guys in WHITE, y did it take so long for us 2 c these fruitloops were racists? 😆

A gov't agency formed + maintained by the USA, racist? How shocking + new 🙄

racist AND speciesist! Someone get L. Lane on the line, the people must know! Tucker responded quickly and Danny laughed quietly.

Calling now! 📞🦸‍♂️ He texted back.

IS THAT CALLING FOR SUPERMAN??! 🤣 Tucker replied.

I'm telling Wes that I think Superman is Lois Lane in art class. Expect the fallout to be heard for at least a week Sam responded way too quickly. Danny bit his lip to keep his laughter inside.

RIP

rip

wow, not even a token protest in my favor, huh boys?

Oh, plz, as if u didn't know those were for Westin. Danny responded.

Speak for yourself, I was praying for Sam's art class. They know not what comes for them. Tucker shot back.

LOL

LOL but tru

“No, come back, I wasn't done asking about your failed high school careers.” Mr. Willis said flatly as the five idiots in white stepped back outside, through the broken windows.

“We will be in touch.” One of the agents snapped, like that meant literally anything in Amity Park anymore.

“Fornicating vultures.” Mr. Willis said in response; not quiet enough to be to himself, but not loud enough to get the attention of the agents. Danny texted a quick kissy face to his partners before pocketing his phone again.

“Now, getting back to it, this unit will be about Polynomials and the homework for the week will be posted every Monday on the student portal at 6pm. I don't accept printed homework – do it all through the portal and utilize the student resource tab for any questions you have. All the week's homework is due at 11:59pm on Saturdays. Let me repeat that: the week's homework is due, at the latest, a minute before Sunday. Which is SATURDAY. You have the whole week to get everything in so I'm not accepting 'a ghost attacked Saturday night' or that you had internet problems that night. Figure it out, you're all big boys and girls – you'll be expected to manage this kind of thing yourselves in college so I'm just starting that expectation early for you.” Mr. Willis explained and Danny just knew the phrase “when you're in college” or something similar would be a frequent refrain.

“So that only applies to the big girls and boys?” Ellen Dawson snarked to a general titter of laughter.

“It applies to big girls, boys, alls, and neithers wanting to pass my class.” Mr. Willis shot back without missing a beat.

“Touché.” Mickey Baker said.

“Fuck off, Mickey.” Ellen snapped.

“Hey, hey! I'll write you up, don't think I won't!” Mr. Willis said loudly, cutting through the teenage ohh-ing at someone cussing in class.

Mr. Willis was a good teacher, Danny thought, since it was pretty easy for him to corral them all back on point. The first week of being back in class was always mostly just going over syllabus' and ice breaker exercises as if most of them hadn't been in the same school district since they were in diapers. The stupid 'get to know your classmates' games were even more useless than usual; ever since the Ghost Investigation Ward got more funding, Casper High officially didn't have any more transfer students coming in – not even from Elmerton, which they shared a river with.

At least Valerie was still at Casper High and wasn't made to transfer out to Earl High like a few other students were. Valerie may not like being reminded that she counted as Ecto-Contaminated but since she was still soft quarantined like the rest of them, it was clearly enough for the GIW. At least all she got was better night vision and stronger bones – her suit, while powered by ectoplasm, had pretty good shielding built in.

The bell ringing broke him out of his musings and he shoved his notepad into his bag as his classmates all streamed out of the room at a speed that was just shy of running. Not that he blamed them, it was first lunch and that meant 40 minutes of not being in class.

“Tucker!” He called as he spotted his boyfriend turning a corner to head towards where their lockers were located as he left the classroom. He and Tucker were placed only a few doors away from each other this year while Sam opted out of getting a locker at all. Tucker stepped out of the flow of traffic to wait for Danny to catch up and took his hand when he got close, leaning over to give him a quick cheek kiss.

Sam was waiting for them at Tucker's locker, leaning on the door while she looked down at her phone with a quizzical frown.

“Hey, babe, what's up?” Tucker asked as they came up to her. Sam moved away from the locker, still reading whatever had caught her attention, as Danny gave her a quick kiss in greeting. She kissed him back distractedly.

“The New York Times is doing a series on radiation powered energy sources and the idiots in white are on record saying Ectoplasm is such a thing. They also pulled up Masters' and your parent's first paper, the one that is all about their never ending battery packs.” Sam answered.

“Fuck.” Tucker hissed, throwing his bag into his locker.

“Any mention of it being from a biological source? Or that it's generated by every living creature in this dimension?” Danny asked, pulling out his own phone to hunt down the article himself.

“They're talking about Ecto-Ranium – they pulled out the scientific name and everything – but so far no mention of any biological component of Ectoplasm.” Sam reported.

“So, it's starting. They'll flood the public perception with the 'fact' that Ectoplasm is radiation and then use that to say those of us with Ecto-Contamination have radiation poisoning.” Tucker said grimly.

“The research already agrees its a contaminant.” Sam agreed, equally grim. “It'll be the Bang Babies all over again.”

“Phantom isn't like Static though – the white cosplayers already declared him a wanted research component. And with Ecto-Beings being excluded from the meta-human classification...” Danny trailed off.

“The next time someone tries to capture you for dissection, I'll gut them.” Sam swore, her eyes glowing with violet rage in a way that made Danny's core shiver.

“Now, now, let's not be hasty. We're in early stages yet – let me see if I can't work some magic before we start rending people limb from limb.” Tucker said and it sounded like he was trying to calm Sam down.

But between them, the protective love and barely cooled anger thrummed on a level that made Danny's knees a little weak. Fuck, he loved these two so much.

Chapter Text

“That looks amazing, Ellie! How was the signal there?” Sam asked as she scrolled through the updated photos in Ellie's Fentonphone Drive. The other girl was in South America currently and had taken a ton of photos of a rain-forest temple. The blend of masonry and nature was inspired, truly.

“I had one bar so I was able to ping my location to my Adventure Diary but texting was a no go. I had enough signal to call the village nearby but anything past the nearest tower was a bust.” Ellie said.

“I wonder if I could get the next version to use the international Justice League towers instead of commercial cell towers? If I can convince them the phone is short wave radio and don't try to connect to the interest that might do it? I'll have to test that, because they might not work like that at all, come to think about it...” Tucker trailed off as he typed away on his PDA.

“I'm sure what you said was impressive and very helpful, thank you, Tucker.” Ellie said dryly. “Anyway, what was even cooler was that when the Ysmault ship came down, I was able to sneak in and explore! The Global Guardians were pretty strict about quarantines, so I was just went ghost when I was in the ship and then stayed that way for an extra three days after, just to really make sure no germs got any hold of life. Can't get sick off extraterrestrial bacteria if you're already dead when exposed to it!” Ellie said cheerfully.

“Please tell me you at least went through decontamination once you left the ship.” Danny said in clear exasperation. He took the baby spoon out of Castor's mouth as he spoke and Castor bounced in his high chair, smacking the lid with his little hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I went though one. They kept one open 24 hours a day with only one camera pointed at it, probably to insure any mischievous or rebelling people would be safe if they decided to go against the evacuation and quarantine rules. Which was good for me – even though I was invisible and DEAD when in the ship at all times!” Ellie said and stuck her tongue out at them.

“We're sure you were safe!” Sam said with a laugh. She finished setting her phone up on the tripod so Ellie could better see them all and checked the wire connected her phone to the television.

They usually tried to video call Ellie at least once a month, since she called every Thursday to check in and chat. And this time, Caster was there for them to show to Ellie. She seemed delighted to see him, having heard all about him ever since Danny and Jazz brought him back to Amity Park.

“Oh my GOD is he wearing an Ember onesie?!” Ellie exclaimed in glee as Sam's phone finally re-focused.

“Yeah, we had to get it for him when we saw it at Mick's.” Tucker answered while Danny got another spoonful of food into the baby's mouth. Caster was good about eating – he had a good appetite and was able to sign the word for food when he was hungry. He was still on just milk for bedtime but he was taking the switch to solids very well.

“Ember loves the baby clothes; she thinks it's hilarious to see a bunch of babies wearing rock and roll merch since when she was alive it was still actively referred to as Devil Music and shi-stuff.” Danny said, quickly correcting his word choice for little ears.

“Did she give permission for the merch or –?” Ellie asked.

“Nah, all the funds go to the city budget and she lost her copyright to both her music and likeness when she died. And with the legal arm of the Ghastly White Idiots, all her new music that isn't a straight weapon goes into the free music market.” Tucker said. Castor pushed his bottle off the highchair lid and it was caught by a slightly glowing power cord.

“The only reason her new stuff is on the free music market is because every time the GIW tries to copyright her new tunes, Tucker nukes the appeal from orbit and immediately uploads a backdated copy of it to the Free Music Archive and some other free music platforms to insure any further attempt to get copyright on them will be laughed out of any court.” Sam said proudly, as if she herself was the one to make the various programs and put them to use.

“Well, anything to ensure they don't get more money, you know?” Tucker said sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as the power cord deposited Castor's bottle into Danny's open hand.

“That's pretty cool, Tucker.” Ellie said. “Now, enough about the ghastly peanut gallery – show me more of the precious baby!”

Danny laughed and scraped the last of the food out of the jar to feed to the baby.

“I cannot believe you named the kid after a god, isn't that the start of at least three YA series??” Ellie asked teasingly.

“I didn't name him after the god Castor! I named him after the STAR! It's the second brightest object in the Gemini constellation – it's not actually a single star but rather a sextuple star system organized into three binary pairs. Two of the starts in the system – ”

“Yes, yes, I'm sure Castor will care very much that you named the kid after the heavenly body and not himself.” Ellie said dryly.

“Castor was barely a deity by the time Rome split, I doubt he's still hanging around anywhere to be offended.” Tucker replied, equally dry.

“I feel like I should object to something in this conversation, but Tucker isn't wrong so...” Sam said.

“I swear to everything holy, if the ghost of Castor comes to fight me because of you two, I will be very upset.” Danny said.

“So you admit he might be around to be upset!” Ellie crowed.

“If he is, it would be because of them calling him a fading god not because a baby was named after a star system that was named after him.” Danny retorted.

“You're no fun! What if baby Castor wants to be a YA protagonist and you've just crushed his future dreams!”

“He's being fostered by a hedge witch and the ghost of witch's dead sister; this kid is pretty YA protag aligned as it is. Not to mention that a High King literally gave him to said hedge witch and ghost. I think me clarifying why I named him isn't going to ruin any potential for YA protagonist status at this point.” Danny said.

“Boo, logic!” Ellie said and stuck her tongue out at them. “Anyway, does he play after he eats or just go back to sleep? I know babies do a lot of sleeping.”

“He gets a little cleaned up and then he plays, yes.” Tucker said as he handed Danny a wet wipe. Castor only wiggled a little as Danny wiped his face and hands and then Danny lifted him out of his seat to pass him to Sam for her to put him down in his playpen while he dealt with the rest of the clean up.

“He likes to sit and play with his blocks. He can sit up on his own pretty well by now, but he also crawls all over the place.” Sam said as she set the boy down in his playpen. He made his happy squeal and crawled eagerly over to his colorful blocks.

“Wow, I wasn't expecting him to be so mobile.” Ellie said after a few moments of watching the boy crawl around to gather all his blocks together.

“This last month has been really good for his development – when he got here, he wasn't nearly as mobile or loud as he is now.” Sam explained as she knelt down in the playpen herself. “Wait until you see how he reacts once his favorite person sits down.” Sam said with a grin.

“He has a favorite?!” Ellie asked excitedly.

“Oh, he has a clear favorite!” Danny said as he and Tucker came over to join Sam and Castor. Tucker moved one end of the playpen's wall so it cut off access to the kitchen and opened the area a bit more. He only had to move the tripod with Sam's phone on it a little to make sure Ellie could still see everyone.

“Castor, look who's here!” Danny said loudly as soon as Tucker folded himself down on the floor. Castor looked up at the call of his name, looked at Danny, and then back at his blocks.

“Rejected!” Ellie called out, delighted.

“Is that TUCKER?” Danny called out in an exaggerated tone. Castor's head jerked up and he looked around a few times before catching sight of Tucker. The little boy pushed his blocks aside to crawl over to Tucker, babbling as he went. Ellie cooed in the background.

“It's so cute, Ellie, watch what happens when he gets to him!” Sam said and sure enough, once Castor made it to Tucker the little boy reached up to pull at his shirt. He was clearly trying to pull himself up but hadn't quite figured out how to do it. Which meant that he ended up pulling on Tucker's shirt while sitting on his own legs, as he was still in the crawling stage of things.

“Ohmigod, that's adorable!” Ellie squealed.

“Okay, little man, let's not wear out anymore of my collars, alright?” Tucker asked as he pulled the boy up onto his lap and untangled little hands from his shirt. Castor bounced a little in his lap, reaching up to touch Tucker's face and braids.

“Oh, he's totally going to put one of those in his mouth, isn't he?” Ellie asked just as one of Castor's hands closed around a longer braid that had a bead in it.

“He usually does, but only when he wants me to read to him. He's actually pretty good at keeping my hair out of his mouth if he just wants to sit with me or play something else.” Tucker said. Castor didn't put Tucker's hair in his mouth. The little guy pulled at it and babbled at Tucker, who nodded and hummed attentively, and after a few moments of baby conversation, the little boy turned his body to make grabby hands at his discarded toys.

“Well, he fits in just fine, doesn't he?” Ellie asked as Tucker gently let the boy off his lap to go back to his blocks.

“He really has improved so much while here; Thomas is a really good foster parent.” Sam said.

“I'm surprised you guys didn't just keep him.” Ellie said lightly.

“He's not like you or Cujo. He needs a lot of care and its expensive to take care of a baby – especially one with special needs.” Danny answered as he scooted over to play with Castor. The little boy babbled at him in greeting, waving a block up at him, before he turned back to putting the blocks in a row.

“Jazz made you give him up, then?” Ellie asked flatly. Sam and Tucker snorted.

“She may have made a few excellent points on the flight back here, yes.” Danny responded.

“Thomas and his sister Adeline are registered as a meta-capable foster family so it was easy to get Castor here, once we explained the situation. Amity Park's local CPS office has been very helpful in keeping as many kids as they can out of the hands of the GIW.” Sam said.

“Things are that bad, huh?” Ellie said quietly.

“Baby Doe in Gotham sector NJ04 was noted for capture for scientific discovery. They marked him down as BD1704, classified as a high containment oddity.” Tucker said and Danny felt a surge of disgust and anger from him, a sensation not unlike missing a step in the dark.

Castor made an unhappy noise, putting one of his blocks in his mouth as he looked between the three of them in clear confusion.

“We're not upset with you, Starlight.” Danny said gently and reached out of pick him up for a cuddle. Castor curled up with him, sucking on his block, quiet and unsure.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to upset him.” Ellie said.

“You didn't do anything wrong. He's liminal enough to have a little empathy and all the resources we have agree that at this age, the only thing to do is show the child that negative emotions don't mean they're in trouble or going to get hurt. Castor is young enough that previous examples are a concern, but they're not the be all end all. We're still working with him.” Sam said.

Ellie hummed in understanding and opened her mouth, but didn't get a chance to respond before someone in her vicinity yelled her name, clearly to get her attention.

“Ope, hold that thought.” Ellie said and the audio muted as she yelled back. She seemed to listen to someone respond and then she laughed, the lack of audio doing nothing to hide her delight. She waved and nodded, saying something that seemed agreeing to someone off screen.

“Whelp, that's my cue to wrap this up and say goodbye. I'm off to see one of those Instagram traps – there's a cave nearby with a natural spring in it open to the public that has a stone skylight that a bunch of influencers take photos in that I've been wanting to see. Setsu just confirmed a place for our vans, so I'm heading up with her group. Love you all, give Castor lots of cuddles from me, and don't let the blob ghosts bite!” Ellie said.

“Love you too!” They called back and Danny took Castor's hand to wave at her as she blew them a last kiss before ending the video call.

“How crowded do you think that place is going to be?” Sam asked with a wide grin as she unplugged the wire connecting her phone to the TV.

“Swamped, for sure.” Tucker answered with a laugh as he waved a hand to coil the wire up and place it where it belonged on a high shelf.

“Would it kill you to get up and put things away?” Sam asked as she collapsed the tripod.

“Yes.” Tucker answered, completely seriously, as he floated the cute fox pattered bag the tripod was stored in over to their girlfriend. (Since it had a charging cord sewn into it, he could grab it; the bag the tripod had come with was just black fabric and had been one of the first things they discarded.)

“Show off.” Sam said teasingly.

“Only for my partners!” Tucker said and did finger guns at them both. Danny laughed while Sam mock groaned at their dork.

“Wow, what happened to you?” Stephanie asked as Tim came into the cave with an impressive black eye while in civvies.

“Don't freak out.” Tim said first, which wasn't a great start of an answer to that question. She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Okay, so technically, I got this from Bernard, but it was an accident.” Tim said all at once.

“The FUCK?!” Stephanie yelped and lurched forward to take Tim's face in her hands to look him over better.

“Steph, it's fine! It was an accident; I startled him and he reflexively punched first. He's a Gothamite, it happens!” Tim said, waving her hands away and heading towards the changing areas.

“I hate that's an actual excuse.” Stephanie said mildly, watching Tim carefully for other signs of injury.

“He was very sorry about it and it's not a big deal – the amount of times you or I have reflexively thrown one of the others when they've snuck up on us isn't exactly a low number.” Tim said and his voice muffled near the end – most likely as he took his shirt off.

“I suppose that's a good point.” Stephanie said as she chewed on her tongue, thinking it over. She wasn't sure she really was alright with the excuse given but...Tim wasn't helpless or isolated and this was the first time he'd ever shown up with mysterious bruises.

“Anyway, are you with me tonight or are you swapping out for tonight?” Tim asked.

“With you – we've got the docks so make sure you grab your thermal undies so you don't get a cold and die.” Stephanie teased.

“Oh my God, are any of you ever going to let me live that down?” Tim whined.

“You didn't tell us that you lost your spleen and we only found out when you landed yourself in the ER with what we honestly thought was the plague until the doctors discovered your true aliment. Which progressed to pneumonia and you were in the hospital for a week. Damian ended up in the news for threatening one of your nurses and Duke almost shorted out the lights in your room.” Stephanie said dryly.

“I mean, to be fair, it's hardly the first time that the media has had a field day with the little demon's attitude. There's a reason his public story is that he was rescued from a cult.” Tim said.

“I would say I can't believe that B let that pass, but honestly with how the kid was when he got here there wasn't anything else for it.” Stephanie said and reached for her belt to do a last check that everything was belted in correctly.

Tim snorted and they both went quiet as he finished suiting up. She wandered over to the main computer, reaching for her ear communicator, and as she was putting it in place she had a wicked idea to tease Tim with.

“So....he apologized for getting you in the face?” Stephanie called out, not putting in the comm yet so the entire working group didn't get way too much information.

“Yeah, of course he did. He was horrified, even after I complimented his swing and gave him my own apology for not making sure he heard me come in.” Tim said as he came out into the open, still finishing with the wraps on his wrists.

“So...this apology be the reason you're a little late tonight? Get a little hot and heavy?” Stephanie teased. Tim reached for his own comm, turning to smirk at her in a way that was very familiar.

“Why, Stephanie Brown, are you asking for scandalous details about my boyfriend?” Tim asked playfully, reaching out to smack at her shoulder.

“I'm just making sure one of my besties is being taken care of!” Stephanie said and reached out to swipe one of his batarangs. Tim squawked and shoved his comm into his ear as he bolted after her. She bounced away from him, flipping up onto a catwalk to get space to put her own comm in place, and only had to adjust it once after a flip into the transport section of the cave.

“Spoiler, reporting for duty!” She called out as she did a pretty impressive flip that took her over Tim's head. He grinned up at her and followed, leaping over a drop to collide with her as she landed just outside the landing pad with the cars on them. She tipped with his weight, feeling his arms come around her as they tumbled. She let him take the batarang back and rolled to her feet once Tim let go of her.

“Red Robin, logging on for the night.” Tim announced and she heard him both in front of her and from her earpiece.

“Welcome to the night, birdies.” Oracle said in their ear. “Everything seems standard and unless something happens, Robin and Black Bat aren't out tonight. Red Hood isn't on comms but he's got Crime Alley, Nightwing is in Blud, and Batwoman is in the Diamond District unless anyone needs her for anything else.”

Tim unlocked his bike and held up his spare helmet for her with a tilt of his head in her direction. She grinned and took it, hopping up to ride with him – it was looking like a mild night so there wouldn't be any harm in her not having her own ride.

Red Robin's motorcycle came alive under them both with a purr and then they were speeding out of the cave. She leaned against his back, arms loose around him, and they had done this enough times it wasn't anything to lean with him as they took turns with wild abandon all over their beloved city.

They had the docks tonight and the wider area of Cherry Creek, which meant they had the police scanners and the two main trucker lines open for Oracle to comb through for anything that needed special attention while they got to cruise through the upper island and mingle. A few times she left the bike and Red to run through the night on her own – she caught a few teens making out, which was embarrassing for everyone involved; found a mentally challenged young man that had wandered away from his caretakers; and managed to pick up three stray puppies huddled together under a collapsed vending machine.

She took a selfie with them and sent it to Damian, who answered within the minute with the location of the nearest 24 hour shelter to her location. She snorted under her breath, but obediently headed in that direction. The staff at the place were nice and took the little girls off her hands and she did a round of selfies with the staff members that wanted them.

Red Robin was lounging on his bike when she left the shelter, tapping on his wrist computer.

“You want food?” He asked.

“I could eat.” She said as she swung herself behind him. He finished up whatever he was doing and they took off. He took them to the nearest Bat Burger, because he was a gift to mankind.

“Batwoman is heading in for the night.” Oracle said as they were wrapping up their patrol dinner. “And Red Hood is also in for the night, he reports nothing unusual in his sector.” She continued.

“You wanna call it?” Red Robin asked as he ate the last of his Penguin Fries (he was the only one who could eat french fries that were baked in mayonnaise, the fucking weirdo).

“We're gonna call it a night too. There's a street race in Colts Court that we're gonna crash, as a heads up.” She announced.

“Alright, have a good night and if either of you is racing, for the love of God don't bet on those races.” Oracle said and Red Robin laughed.

“To be fair, the last time I bet on a street race as Red Robin it was on Robin and it was to break up a drug cartel trying to branch out here.” He responded.

“Don't act like the idea of betting as Red Robin wasn't in and of itself the whole reason you did it, you menace.” Oracle said dryly.

“You gotta admit, it was pretty funny to see his name on the roll call.” She cut in.

“Go to your race, gremlins. Call someone if something that isn't supposed to explodes.” Oracle said warmly. They signed off for the night and she snagged the keys from Red Robin to take them over to Colts Court.

There were a few street races that popped up in Gotham and while most of them were for modified cars, this one was for bikes. Most of the car races started around abandoned parking garages and spread out to cover a few roads that acted as the the actual “race track”. The first street race she had been too was held at the abandoned Sports Authority garage on Beaumont Blvd and she had a great time.

Tim had taken her, back when they were dating, and the parking garage had been lit up with various lights and there had been speakers on every floor blasting different music. The garage itself was like a car show, a bunch of people and groups showing off their hot rods, and there had been food carts and a few back-of-the-pickup booths selling homemade food, fresh produce, and even some crafted goods. She got a really cute pair of mittens and some earrings there.

The set up that met them at Colts Court wasn't like that. First off, the races didn't start at a parking garage – Colts Court was an abandoned shopping district that used to have three department stores and a bunch of outlets before they all either moved or went bankrupt. It had a lot of parking space in it's heyday and right now, it was packed with all sorts of motorized bikes. The speakers that were blaring music were set up in the back of some beat up trucks and someone had clearly brought a portable generator because the neon lights that were still present on the buildings were powered up for the first time in literal years.

People waved and hollered at them, calling out greetings and complimenting their bike, and they both took a few selfies with various people. It didn't take very long for a woman with a headset and a battered tablet to pop out of the crowd and greet them.

“You guys wanna race tonight?” She asked.

“Nah, we're just spectators.” Red Robin said with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Cool, cool – we got a few vendors and some community booths set up along with the usual food trucks that followed us out here. Red Hood's people have an injection site set up and they're manning the health tent, it's under the main lighting rig if you need it. There is a race being set up right now so I gotta jet, but let one of us know if you guys change your mind about racing.” She said and ran off once they waved her away. Her neon pink hair flew behind her like a banner as she darted through the crowd.

“So, are we watching for anyone in particular or did you just wanna hang out?” Red Robin asked, leaning against the bike's handles. Spoiler grinned at him.

“I was hoping we'd get to see one guy, yeah. Name's Johnny 13 and he apparently races like physics don't matter to him. He's only been in town for bit, I heard he's here with his girlfriend; they're seeing family and then heading back home but I wanted to see him race at least once.” She explained and a little ways away, an air horn blew.

“What kinda bike does he have?” Red asked as they waited for the immediate area to clear out as people started moving en mass towards the street.

“It's a 1983 Honda Shadow of all things. It's barely even modified, at least outwardly, but it drives like the old Robin Cycle.” She said and put a bat-approved boot on the bike to make sure it stayed where they parked it to head over to stand with everyone else.

“That's pretty impressive for a civilian bike.” He admitted as they found a place to stand that wouldn't be in the way but also allowed them to actually watch the race while also making sure no one tried to take off with their bike. If they were here as civilians, they would feel a lot better about leaving whatever bike they rode out here on, but they were here as Red Robin and Spoiler, not Tim and Stephanie.

“Looks like they're starting!” Red Robin said excitedly.

“They just doing a circuit of the court or do you think they're going to break out to Jackson Street?” She asked.

“They're going around the north end of the complex, which takes them in front of us, then down to Jackson, up until Fourth Ave and coming back along this north end again until they hit the starting line. Classic G track run.” A woman's voice said from behind them.

When they turned to look at the speaker, they were greeted with a young woman who wouldn't be out of place at a biker bar from the 1980's. She had shaggy, layed hair colored green, like moss, and had red eyes – Spoiler didn't think they were colored contacts, the color looked too natural and blended for that – and was wearing a red leather jacket with squared shoulders to go with her 80's styled hair. Her red leather mini-skirt over fishnet tights was a good look on her, really showed off her legs, and her black boots looked worn and and battered in a way that spoke of use.

“Oh, yeah? Thanks, we got here late.” Spoiler said and then held a hand out to her. “I'm Spoiler, this is Red Robin.”

“Charmed.” The woman said, reaching out to shake her hand. “I'm Kitty, Johnny's girl. I heard you say you were here for him? I hope you bet well, in that case.” Kitty continued playfully. Red Robin laughed and when Kitty held out her hand in his direction, it was with her palm down, like she expected him to kiss the top of it. Red took her hand and obediently bent over it, not touching her skin, but that was apparently enough for her.

“We don't bet if we can help it.” Red said.

“Oh? Just here to see my man sweep the competition then? You have good taste!” Kitty said with a flip of her hair.

“He's an out of town-er so I was intrigued when I heard his name come up tonight.” Red Robin said in a way that sounded leading to Spoiler, who was used to the way he mined every conversation for details.

“That's my Johnny – wherever we go, if there's a race, he's gonna win it. He's only ever not won one race, you know!” Kitty bragged with a laugh.

“Oh, damn, that's impressive!” Spoiler said and she leaned on Red Robin's shoulder.

“Oh, here he comes!” Kitty said excitedly and surged forward to get closer to the curb. Spoiler let off Red's shoulder, turning back around to watch as the racers came around the corner. There was one leading the bunch by a sizable margin, tearing down the street with a speed that was breathtaking. “Ride hard, Sweet-pea!!” Kitty yelled.

The man on the bike in the lead took one hand off the handlebars to blow her a kiss as he tore past and Kitty mimed catching it and did a twirl. It was cute in a sickeningly sweet way – she could tell those two were probably the kind of couple who gave everyone diabetes with their behavior towards each other.

“Well, it was nice to meet y'all – I'm going to wait by the finish line.” Kitty said and waved as she sashayed away.

“Confident, isn't she?” Red Robin said quietly as they both watched her go.

“You can say that again.” Spoiler said.

Chapter Text

“Why am I not surprised you're from Gotham?” Tucker asked as he lined up his shot.

“You'd think it was my accent, but I bet it was my bike that gave it away, huh?” Johnny 13 responded, leaning on his club. Tucker snorted and then hit the ball, watching it soar through the air before it landed in front of the small windmill with its annoying creaking hinges.

“You call that a shot?!” Kitty asked loudly from her spot atop the dome keeping a group of teens contained. The eight other kids all went to Casper High and were a part of the wrestling team.

“Do I look like someone who plays white kid golf?!” Tucker shouted back.

“Putt Putt is not white kid golf!” Johnny whined.

“You're right – it's rich white kid golf!” Tucker snapped back.

“Nerd's got a point!” Billy, the oldest member of the wrestling team, said loudly.

“You're really going to call the guy trying to free you a nerd?” Johnny commented idly. His club caught on fire, the flames a glowing orange, and when he hit his ball it shot out of sight like a comet.

“Eh, our curfew isn't until 10, we got time.” Billy said after an impressed whistle. Johnny preened as the other members of the wresting team gave impressed hollers at his shot. Tucker rolled his eyes – he's really out here being called a nerd by people on a team called the Casper Twisters; there was no justice in the world, clearly.

Tucker stepped up to where his ball was and took a swing at just the right moment, sending the little ball into the last hole. Kitty cheered and flew over to her boyfriend, throwing her arms around him in joy.

“I WIN! I WIN!” She squealed. Johnny wrapped his arms around her and huffed – with that shot, Kitty had the most points and did indeed win the game.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya sugar. Good game, Tech Nerd.” Johnny tossed out to Tucker.

“Yeah, sure, you wanna let the wrestling team go?” Tucker asked as his PDA chimed a warning at them all.

“Oh, c'mon, do I have to?” Johnny whined. He gave Kitty a kiss on the cheek while Tucker snorted.

“I mean, those idiots playing MIB are on their way here so you could just dip and let the cage disperse naturally.” Tucker commented as he typed a few commands so he could pull up the cameras in the parking lot and office up. The parking lot had a white van with agents stepping out of it and the camera in the office was showing two agents heading into the play area with the bulky guns at the ready.

“Oh, man, already? They're worse than your brother was at crashing our dates, sweet-pea.” Johnny commented to Kitty as his shadow twisted to reveal his signature bike.

“At least my brother did it out of affection – those jackasses are just prudes, always stepping in before things get interesting.” Kitty commented and her hair writhed as her eyes started to glow. Tucker wondered, not for the first time, if Kitty had been a meta when she was alive.

“Then let's book it to somewhere more cozy.” Johnny said as he swung Kitty up onto his bike. She laughed as he climbed up behind her, leaning close to start his bike. Kitty settled back against his chest and as the bike tore off into the sky, Tucker caught the tail end of Kitty's voice going husky before the wind took them away.

“Hey, Foley, can you get us out of here?” David asked as he pressed against the glowing bars of the cage. David had apparently gotten some kind of award at regionals or state or whatever it was that the wresting team did – it made the morning announcements for the last week.

“Nah, man, you're gonna have to wait for it to vanish or for Phantom to let you out if he comes by.” Tucker said as he locked his PDA and listened to the agents get closer. He didn't have the skill to get out of here without them running after him so he stepped over to wait near the cage.

“I was on the phone with my nan when Johnny and Kitty decided to rope us into their date. She called my dad.” Billy said as the two agents burst around the corner, guns firing. Tucker bit his tongue to stop himself from flinching.

“WHAT THE FUCK, GUYS?! WHAT IF YOU HIT US??” David yelled at the agents, not ones Tucker recognized. The rest of the guys yelled out agreements and at least one of them pulled out a “wait until my father hears about this!”

“Ecto-based weaponry is harmless to base humans.” One of the agents said. He was a hulking man of middle age with a strong jawline and a tattoo peaking out from the bottom of his long, white sleeves. Tucker couldn't see enough of it to make it out, but his right wrist appeared naked of ink in comparison.

“Are there any remaining ecto-entities in the vicinity?” The other asked. This man was larger and shorter than his partner, with large shoulders. His red hair was a bright beacon atop his head.

“Oh, so ectoplasm is harmful radiation when you're talking to the news but harmless when pointing guns at us?” David asked sarcastically.

“You lot should know better than anyone how harmful ectoplasm is to baseline humans.” Strong jawline said harshly in their direction. “Or don't you realize the indestructible cage you're in right now? No one can get you out of there; what if the spook that put it over you doesn't remove it? You'd die in there, in full view of everyone, with no one able to help you.” He continued, looking uncomfortably smug about the very idea of such a thing happening.

“Oh, fuck off, everyone knows these constructs collapse after about an hour once the ghost maintaining them leaves. And even if they didn't – these bars are far enough apart that packaged food and water could be passed through. Along with a shovel if we had to actually get out – we could just dig a hole under it, you fucker.” David snapped back.

“It does seem rather strange that you're so concerned about us doing our civic duty, young man. Perhaps you're actually ecto-contaminated? Or perhaps you're harboring an ecto-entity on the down-low? We might need to look into this matter further.” The red-haired man drawled. Tucker pressed himself against the cage's bars, his fingers gripping his PDA in his pocket tightly.

“Awww, did you guys get tired of harassing me and decided to branch out to living teenagers? I thought we had something!” Danny called out from above. Tucker breathed out, tension leaving his shoulders as he looked up.

“Ecto-scum! By order of the – ”

“Yes, yes – slur, threat, then shoot. I really thought for a moment you guys were abandoning me for a new group of teenagers! I'm just tickled to know that isn't the case – you guys can't know how boring the afterlife gets sometimes; I have so much time to do the same things over and over again! I gotta say, I'm rather happy you all seem to like hanging out with me so much – I always heard the living were all about time, but since meeting you all, I don't think that's the case at all!” Danny said as he lay out in the air like a giant cat. His smile stretched across his face in a wide Cheshire grin and his ghostly tail was flickering around like a tiger's tail, completing the unsettling image. He was really leaning into his ghostly aura too, his eyes glowing and he'd given himself star freckles – as Sam called them – the cosmos dancing in neon purple across his checks and nose.

Tucker swallowed as he realized that the star constellations stretched across his boyfriend's face in Sam's color were the ones above Kemet during his own rule as Pharaoh, thousands of years ago. He didn't even really remember that life, not in any way that mattered, but he was still fighting down butterflies at the idea of something so tied to him plastered across Danny's body with such visibility.

“Defending humanity is never a waste of time, Ghoul!” Strong Jaw shouted as he opened fire, which also made Tucker's rather inappropriate musings about Danny's physical appearance get shoved down into the depths of his mind, where they belonged.

Danny cackled as he dodged blasts and zoomed off, the two agents giving chase like the utter morons they were. Tucker waited a few moments, just to make sure no other ones came out of the woodwork to replace them, before he snapped his PDA out to check where the various agents were scattered about.

“Looks like the GIW are keeping people back, I'd be willing to bet some of your parents are out there.” Tucker said to the group. He made some mental notes of where agents were stationed and took a fortifying breath. “I'm out of here; don't talk to any of the agents without a lawyer present.” He said and didn't wait for any of the group to respond before he darted away.

He wasn't Sam or Danny – he wasn't built for cardio; couldn't run across town while carrying pounds of weapons or other gear and then parkour his fine ass onto a rooftop while dodging gunfire. He also wasn't Valerie, who could run at a ledge four stories in the air and make a leap, knowing her hoverboard would unfold under her feet. Nor was he Jazz, who could fold into a crowd and turn it into a rioting mass of angry citizens.

What he was, however, was clever and handy with technology. He had full control of the whole town's cameras and electrical grid. It was easy for him to move around agents with their earpieces and electrical tasers, to make it so no camera would ever record him moving about, to be able to feel the electrical pulses of large groups of humans moving over the streets of the city he lived in.

He didn't need to be able to sprint to the far fence on the left side of Pirates Cove and haul himself over it to evade the GIW. He didn't need to run across the busy street behind the mini golf course while praying that none of the goons in white caught sight of him.

All he needed was the knowledge that none of the cameras would record him in the outdoor portion of the course. The camera in the hallway of the “employees only” corridor that connected Pirates Cove to all the mechanical wires and pumps keeping the water running, the cheesy pirate sounds on a loop, and the lights on also didn't know anyone was there and wouldn't record the door opening. The most nerve wrecking part of leaving through the maintenance door was the moments he spent with his hands on the door, reaching his senses to try to get the shitty camera pointed at the employee parking lot to move enough to give him a wider view of the area around the door.

His temple throbbed from overuse of his abilities, but he walked out of there under his own power.

Nightwing strolled into the room, casually clocking the hospice nurse and the young volunteer already in the room. The nurse was sitting in a chair near the east wall, their work tablet next to them on a little fold out desk that also contained a bottle of lotion and a cup. (If it was for Nurse Pat, it would contain peach tea with a dash of honey; if it was for Johnny, it would contain pomegranate juice with his liquid pain meds mixed in.)

The volunteer was second year college student Marietta Joiner from Lakewood. They were majoring in musical composition and had a large following on Tikker as they crafted their third album. They volunteered at Sheldon Fox Hospice as a way of ensuring their parents continued to pay for their education. Their criminal record was clean, as were all of their associates – even their ex-boyfriend was just an asshole, not a thug.

“Boy Wonder, that you?” Johnny Witts wheezed from his bed.

“Yeah, Johnny, it's me.” Nightwing answered as he came over to lean over the bed so the older man could see him better.

“Thanks for coming, kid.” Johnny gasped out, taking a few large breathes after his short sentence. Nightwing settled down at the end of the bed, waving away Marietta who wordlessly tried to offer him their own chair.

Johnny Witts had been one of the first criminals that gave Batman and Robin a true run for their money back when Nightwing was still running around in a leotard with knee-pads. He was once a huge man, towering over Robin as he smirked his way through monologues and threats. He almost single-highhandedly revolutionized the way illegal guns could be smuggled into Gotham and was responsible for the downfall of two former mob families. He had been the first man to purposefully break one of Robin's bones, not in a fight or to get out of a dangerous situation – no, Johnny had gotten his hands on a little crime fighter who busted one of his bars and broke his arm in two places for the sole purpose of making him scream.

And now, here he was, frail and wrinkled in a bed. His once handsome face was wrinkled, pockmarks and scars prominent across his cheeks, and an old scar cut into his once plump lips turning his mouth into a permanent pout. His hair was all gone, barely even any fuzz growing atop his scalp.

“Can you believe I used to kick this kid's ass when he ran around Gotham in shorts?” Johnny said to Marietta. His voice was weak and thin but it held some humor in it.

“I can't believe you just confirmed that Nightwing used to be the first Robin like it was nothing.” Marietta said blankly. Nightwing laughed.

“It's not quite a secret, just something not well known.” Nightwing said easily once he calmed down.

“I wish I could give you a good speech but I get tired more often now.” Johnny said and then had to stop to reach out for a drink of water. Marietta held it for him and Johnny needed to drink out of a straw – his hands were curled and knotted, shaking even as they rested against Marietta's hand over the plastic cup.

“I gave it some thought and decided to tell you where my last few stashes of guns are. Won't need 'em any.” Johnny said and his barking laughter quickly turned to a wheezing cough. “Wrote it down on a map, with some notes to make it easy to find.” He continued after he recovered.

“Aww, it would have been funny to keep finding your illicit stashes even years from now.” Nightwing joked and Johnny's mouth turned up at a corner in the closest thing to a smile he could make now.

“Little minders of ole Johnny, even after I'm gone.” Johnny said slowly. He was clearly fading, blinking slowly. Nightwing took one of Johnny's ruined hands in his own and it felt so fragile there; he had taken his gloves off and Johnny's skin felt thin and dry. He could feel all his bones and maybe even his veins.

Marietta took up conversation at that point, talking about the current song they were composing. Johnny didn't even finish high school but he loved music and clearly knew some about the technical aspects of it. Nightwing sat and listened to them speak, holding the old arms gangster's hand, and eventually Johnny stopped responding.

“Does he have any family?” Marietta asked quietly once it was clear Johnny was sleeping deeply enough that he wouldn't wake in a few minutes to continue the conversation.

“No. He left Gotham after a pretty bad Scarecrow attack – his husband died after Fear Toxin exposure.” Nightwing explained.

“I didn't know he had been married.” Marietta said, soothing the blanket as Nightwing released Johnny's hand.

“Legally, they weren't married; but they had been together since the '70's, I think? By the time it was legal for them to be married for real, they'd been calling each other husbands for decades and it was better for their finances to be unconnected. When one of them was in prison, they could legally empty the majority of their accounts to the other and the money would be untouchable.” Nightwing explained dryly. That little trick had been so annoying whenever he and B were trying to take Johnny or Ryan down. One of them would get arrested and their lawyer would immediately drain their account down to thirty dollars to funnel into the other's account.

“I guess they both took be gay, do crime a little too seriously.” Marietta muttered, clearly to themselves.

“Fucking right? Like, my elder queers, on the one hand – fight the system! Be gay, do crime! On the other hand, maybe do less crime? Maybe don't run guns for mobsters? Or deal laced, illegal drugs? Or provide bombs to anyone who will pay you for them? Or rob banks? Or throw people into the harbor with cement shoes for unpaid debts?” Nightwing said, chuckling.

“That's too much crime, put some back!” Marietta said, laughing as well. Their eyes were still a little shiny, but they were clearly on their way to feeling a little better.

Nightwing stood up as they both calmed down. He took one last look at Johnny Witts, his old body frail and weak from the cancer eating away at him.

“I have the papers for you, Nightwing. If I could just get your signature here and here, we can release them to you.” Nurse Pat said as she stood herself, holding the tablet out for him. The digital release was open on it and took a few seconds to sign Nightwing and put his Justice League of America identification number down.

He said goodbye to Marietta and grabbed the atlas journal Johnny had left him from the receptionist before he left building. It was a little jarring to step out into sunlight, but since he was the main hero in Blüdhaven it wasn't unheard of for him to have to go some of his work during the day. He cracked his neck as he walked towards his bike.

“Hey, O, you on comms at all?” Nightwing asked as he drove away.

“Nope, she's not on. I'm here if you need something though?” Luke Fox answered, his voice a pleasant rumble.

“Hey! Haven't heard you on comms in a minute; I didn't know you were back stateside!” Nightwing greeted. “And I don't need anything urgently – I was just going to have O send me some documents but if she's not on, I can hunt them down myself.” Nightwing continued.

“Alright, sounds good. Remember to switch your status if you're heading back to your civilian job after this.” Luke said.

“Will do!” Nightwing said and clicked off comms. He weaved through traffic, mentally trying to figure out lunch at his safehouse so he could finish the paperwork while eating. He's pretty sure he had ingredients to make a bacon and chicken sandwich and the rest of the vegetables left in the fridge could make a good stew.