Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red Robin – aka Timothy Drake-Wayne – was having a bad day. Alfred had once again taken away caffeine privileges after he stayed up for another night in a row. Which was unfair! He’d taken some power naps. He was fine.

Then, his work day at Wayne Industries had been jam-packed with meetings with board members and investors that made him want to pull his hair out on a good day. One could only assume Batman’s strict no-killing policy was in place because B feared his cover would be blown by throttling a prissy board member over a conference table. Tim had seriously considered going full rogue on hour two of his meeting with one Mr. Clyve Kenworth III. Only plotting the board member’s social and economic demise through various painful and untraceable means had satiated him. Naturally, Tamara – Tim’s assistant – had very little sympathy as she had to deal with such assholes all the time. But she did grant him some pity in the form of a large coffee to make it through, so all was forgiven.

By the time Tim’s last meeting was done, running far over what was scheduled, he had missed dinner and was very nearly late for patrol. He had shoved a stale bagel in his mouth as he grappled towards the meeting point and considered that good enough for nightly sustenance. Maybe he could grab a snack afterwards during de-brief at the Cave.

The demon brat was his usual prickly self. While Damian had gotten less homicidal over his years in the Batclan, he was still a thorny asshole in Red Robin’s side. And they didn’t even have Dick this evening to mediate. Something about needing to check in on Bludhaven. Lame. Jason was also in a particularly bad mood. No sign of pit rage rearing its head, but Red Hood did admit something felt wrong in the city. B’s prodding only served to make him more irritable and solved nothing. Tim had rolled his eyes, wondering when B would learn to stop hovering and let Jason make his own way back to fold. He didn’t even have Spoiler or Black Bat to commiserate with as they were off helping Oracle and Dinah with the Birds of Prey in Star City. Signal was their daytime vigilante, so he was currently asleep.

With their numbers so limited, Red Robin opted to patrol alone. Gotham was quiet. They had taken down Scarecrow a couple nights ago, and usually there was a grace period of calm after a major rogue attack before trouble came calling again. It should have been an easy patrol and maybe finally Tim would fit in more than a couple hours sleep tonight. Then again, the universe lived to prove Tim’s already low expectations false.

“Commotion on 56^th and Main. Reports of arson and destruction of property,” Alfred’s crisp voice filtered through Red Robin’s communicator. The butler was filling in for Oracle while she helped with Dinah’s mission.

Technically that was closer to Red Hood’s patrol route, but the Crime Alley-based vigilante didn’t say anything. Tim sighed. “I’m on it.”

He re-adjusted his grapple to swing south. He smelt the scene of the crime before he saw it. Smoke in the air. Well, more than usual and with the tang of a fresh fire rather than the stale smoke that was always lingering in Gotham. He followed the trail of smoldering fires and cracked sidewalks and walls.

“I think I’m on the trail of a meta,” Tim admitted over comms. “Damage is indicative of super strength. Potentially fire-based powers as well.”

“Do you require backup?” Batman asked.

Red Robin stiffened. “No. I’ll be fine.” No way he was going to request backup for one out of control meta. He led Young Justice for crying out loud, able to go toe to toe with Superboy. He could handle this. Not to mention Damian would be insufferable if he requested backup.

There was no response from Batman, which was as good as an acknowledgement. Red Hood was – of course – silent.

A slam in the nearby alley had Tim reaching for his bo staff and expanding it. He crept in the shadows and peered around the corner, heart thumping with adrenaline as he prepared for a fight. And even his adrenaline felt sluggish tonight. Maybe Alfred had been onto something requesting Tim take a night off to rest. Oh, who was he kidding, Alfred was always right. But B was already short-handed for tonight. That was the only reason Jason had agreed to patrol after all.

Once in the alley, Tim began to suspect he might be in over his head. In the darkness, there was a loose-limbed, constantly shifting form as if the shadows themselves were alive. Except it shone like light on an oil slick from the dim streetlight. It looked almost green in nature. Maybe some of the light was coming from the creature itself. It was currently wailing on a garbage can, pummeling it into an unusable shape. If that wasn’t bad enough, the trashcan was on fire. The air was filled with a putrid odor that only Tim’s long-term exposure to Gotham kept his gag-reflex in check.

Still, Red Robin would try and solve this peacefully first. This wasn’t the first meta he had met who could change forms. “Hey, buddy, what did that trash can ever do to you?” He asked cheerily from the alleyway entrance, forcing his body to appear loose and relaxed, even while Tim trod lightly in case of a violent response.

The shadowy, sludge-like form condensed into something almost human. If the human had gone through several zombie movies and did not survive a single one. Clothes were ripped, with wounds that were deep and wide enough they should still have been oozing blood. Skin was dark grey. But there were other things about the person that should not have been possible. There was almost a greenish tinge to the person’s whole being. Tim could almost believe he was hallucinating that aspect, but then the person’s shoulder-length hair waved around in a non-existent wind. And worst of all, their eyes. Or where eyes should be were only vacant voids straight from a horror movie. And only a pinprick of Lazarus green light in their center betrayed any sort of life.

“What – “ Red Robin started, before the figure launched themselves with unholy, staticky shriek that shook Tim to his bones. Something primal in him was absolutely terrified and he was saved only by battle-honed instincts to defend himself.

What should have been a decisive hit from his staff to bat the figure away did absolutely nothing. The figure flew through it as if the staff didn’t exist. The same could not be said for Red Robin as he was bodily slammed into the sidewalk, head included. From there, the fight got rather fuzzy.

All of Red Robin’s training failed him as no matter what tactic he tried, no hit could land on the nightmare fuel attacking him. That did not stop the figure from slamming Red Robin into every wall he could. He registered the sharp pain of slicing his leg against the misshapen dumpster at one point, crying out in pain. God, fighting off the infection alone would be a task and a half with his missing spleen. He tried calling for backup at one point, but heard nothing over the comms. For whatever reason, it seemed his calls weren’t making it through. Red Robin was alone. And he was not going to win this fight. The meta didn’t make sense. It was as if they could interact with the physical world only on their whim. Otherwise, nothing affected them.

And just as Red Robin began to consider his demise was close and how pathetic it would be to die in an ordinary alleyway from some unknown entity, something else cut through the haze.

While Red Robin could have believed that he hallucinated the green glow around the horror film extra, he could not say the same for the new player who entered the alley.

“Hey!” The person shouted, followed by the sounds of grainy static that he felt more than heard like an electric shock from metal in the cold. It was angry, but sharp and pointed rather than the wildfire that was Red Robin’s current opponent. Red Robin could make out the blurry figure of a teenager with snow-white hair and a dark suit. Something glowing green – halo-like – floated above his head. Tim’s vision was too blurry to fully make it out.

Red Robin’s ghoulish opponent hissed and directed its attention to the new person. Who was also hissing in response? The two began to fight. Red Robin had to blink several times before he could make out anything other than green and fiery light. The snow-haired figure seemed to grow as the fight progressed, whereas Red Robin’s opponent was cowering.

Red Robin took in a deep breath to assess and regroup to make a tactical retreat. He nearly screamed in pain. His last attack from the ghoulish figure had cracked a rib it seemed. A rib that had likely punctured a lung as breathing became more and more difficult. A death sentence unless he could get medical attention immediately. Well, at least he’d be finally resting, but recovery would be a bitch and a half.

“Getting a little burnt out there, fella?” The snow-haired blur taunted, just as a fireball whooshed past his ear. And were those pointed ears? Was he some kind of fae? Alien?

Tim groaned at the figure’s Dick-tier pun. The white-haired figure’s gaze flickered to Tim at the noise. Foolish, because the other figure launched itself. But without even looking, the nightmare fuel was punched back with a green blast of energy.

“Oh Ancients, you are not looking great. And no offense, but I don’t really have time to deal with a vigilante turned ghost. Time to put a cap on this.”

As the nightmare fuel prepared to launch another attack, the elfin figure pulled out a soup thermos of all things from inside the folds of his cape that had shown up somewhere in the fight. Tim wasn’t actually sure when, but he did not think the figure had arrived wearing a cape. It was hard to miss. It looked like a night sky studded with literal stars. The night sky one would see in the middle of the desert far from light pollution of any kind, where stars were as plentiful as sand grains and the sky was tinted with the dust of galaxies. Gorgeous.

Tim shook his head, focusing instead back on the soup thermos the figure had removed from his cloak. had a strong suspicion it was not actually that kind of thermos when it was uncapped and the nightmare fuel was sucked in with another grating shriek, vanishing as if he were never there. Well, apart from the mutilated and burning dumpster and alleyway studded with the burn marks of scuffs of a fire fight.

“Sorry about that. Baby fire core ghosts tend to have the worst temperament. Usually I’d fight them until they tucker themselves out. But you could probably use some medical attention pronto.”

Tim had a thousand questions. But as he tried to ask them, instead all that came from his throat was blood.

The white-haired figure’s eyes widened. They were almost normal except the iris was bright, bright Lazarus green. Far brighter than Jason’s. His mind screamed danger at the potential Lazarus water influence looming over him, remembering an unmasked Red Hood leaning over him in Titans Tower and cackling with the madness of the pits.

“Shit, shit, shit!” The figure muttered as white gloved hands tipped with claws began to shake. “That’s really not good. Okay. Focus, Phantom. You can do this.”

Phantom? Like ghosts? Some sort of vigilante name for this Lazarus-addled meta? Alien? Elf? God, this concussion was severely limiting Tim’s ability to analyze information.

“Okay, listen…er…Red Robin?...Doesn’t matter. Can I call you Birdie? Well, Birdie, you are…” A strangled chittering and humming sound emanated from the person that no human vocal cord could simulate. “Well, you’re dying. And normally beyond my help until, well, after. But good news! I’ve been trying this thing lately. But it’s weird. And it will definitely feel weird. But it should heal you good as new!”

Tim reached out to clutch at Phantom. He was moderately surprised when it actually worked, and he could feel the fabric of Phantom’s suit. But it didn’t feel like anything he’d felt before. It was smooth as silk, but sturdy and pliable like rubber. And cold. So cold. As if Phantom wasn’t producing any body heat of his own. Tim looked up and it seemed as Phantom came into focus, his very form was glitching.

“Is that a yes? Ancients, I hope that is a yes.” Phantom closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He pulled Tim into his lap. He cradled him so gently and carefully, as if handling a baby bird. So different from the fighter tossing around the nightmare fuel like it was nothing.

Tim watched him carefully as Phantom stuck a hand in his chest and pulled out a glowing green droplet, that expanded and formed a swirling ball in his hand. Familiar glowing green ooze that he featured in his nightmares often ever since he returned from his quest to find Batman and dealing Ra’s and his League of Assassins. He flinched away, but was unable to do much now that Phantom had a hold on him.

“Easy, easy. I know it looks strange and it will feel weird, but it will heal you.”

Oh fuck no! There was no way some strange meta boy was about to stick Lazarus water in his veins. Red Robin would much rather die, thank you very much. He struggled away.

“Hold still!” Phantom admonished. “Believe me, this won’t be any comfort to me either.” And before Tim could do anything else, Phantom’s hand plunged into Tim’s chest like a snowball straight to his bare skin. He felt coolness predominantly. But he still struggled away, rolling out of Phantom’s lap and away.

“Hey, take it easy! It’s not a miracle cure. It’s still going to take a week or two to work it’s magic. You’re in pretty bad shape, dude.”

Red Robin struggled for words, but nope, still coughing up blood. But it felt marginally less painful.

Phantom perked his ears, head twisting abruptly to the alley entrance. “They’re on their way. Shit. We have to get out of here.”

And before Tim could make a gurgled protest, Phantom scooped him in his arms as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes and then he flew them in the air. A feat made weirder by the fact Tim was definitely larger than Phantom, who didn’t look any older than fifteen. A trickling sensation, like an egg yolk dripping down his spine, overcame Tim with a shiver.

“That’s the invisibility,” Phantom whispered. “Take it easy, Birdie. I’m taking you somewhere safe. In the meantime, relax and enjoy the ride.”

They flew for only minutes, but in that time, Tim felt warm and feverish. But the pain was also lessening. As if he were healing. Goddamn pit water. Batman was not going to be happy about this. And frankly, it was just typical of the universe to expose him to pit water via a virtual unknown after he’d spent so long avoiding Ra’s’ machinations.

Phantom finally landed on a roof near the West End, where the urban sprawl gave way to the gilded gated acres of Gotham’s elite.

“I think Batman usually ends his patrols around here. And the GIW doesn’t usually bother coming up this way.”

“Wha…wha’ di’ you do?” Red Robin rasped. But it was an improvement from choking up blood.

“Shhh. Save your voice. I gave you…well, let’s just say I gave you some of my ectoplasm. It will help heal you. However, you still have to take it easy. Ectoplasm is good, but it’s not infallible. You’re still weak and recovering. And if you somehow die with my gunk inside you, you will be tied to me for the rest of your afterlife, which I doubt either of us want.”

Tim just stared as the glowing kid rambled. Somehow, he only left Tim with more questions rather than answers.

“Anyway, rest up. No crime fighting for at least a week. You’ll want to lay low anyway because with ectoplasm in you, you can show up on the GIW’s tracking systems, and believe me, that’s the last thing you want.”

Danny swiveled his head. “I think your friends are on their way. So, to sum up, take it easy, rest, and I’ll be back in a few days to check on you. Hopefully by then I can retrieve my ectoplasm and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Not likely, Tim thought, head aching with the strain of trying to solve this puzzle that was this Phantom through his concussion. A Lazarus water-fueled meta? Ra’s would stop at nothing to own someone like that. And what was all that nonsense about afterlife and ectoplasm? Is that what Phantom referred to Lazarus Water as?

“I gotta go. Avoid people in white suits! See ya around, Birdie!” And with a lazy salute, Phantom took to the air again, black clad legs merging into a singular wavy tail, before he vanished completely.

With a burst of static, Red Robin’s comm came back to life. More meta abilities?

“ ‘ello?” Red Robin croaked on comms as he swayed on comms. The comms burst with overloaded, worrying chatter from his teammates. It was staticky from interference but hearing them at all was a relief. Tim let himself half fall, half ease himself into a sitting position to wait for his family to find him.

Not very much longer, Tim fell asleep entirely. He only dimly was aware of strong arms scooping him up to carry him away, curling into the warmth and thinking of Phantom who had been more like a cool pack instead.

Tim awoke in the Bat Cave’s medical bay. The lights were dimmed down, but still harsh after waking. He turned his head to look at his surroundings and was surprised to find Jason of all people dozing at his bedside with hid hood off, but domino mask still in place. Their relationship had gotten better over the years, but it had still started at rock bottom to begin with. Tim didn’t think Jason was quite at the stage of sitting vigil at his bedside, but maybe someone had pushed him into it.

Tim shifted, attempting to sit up. He winced at the aches he felt through his entire body as if every inch of him were bruised.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jason demanded, suddenly awake at up over Tim.

“Sitting up?”

“Lay down, you stubborn idiot. You are concussed with several broken bones. The only reason you’re not in a full body cast yet is because we can’t figure out what the hell is up with your healing factor. You have evidence of a punctured lung, but it’s already healed. Care to explain?”

Tim winced again. He absolutely did not want to be the one to break the news to Jason that there was now Lazarus water inside him. “It’s…it’s a long story.”

Jason snorted. “I bet. You were off comms for almost twenty minutes after engaging with an untraceable hostile before your tracker and comm finally came back online halfway across town. What the hell happened?”

Tim let his head fall back. He so did not want to explain this with only Jason here.

“Shit, sorry. I…I guess I’m pulling a B, interrogating you when you just woke up.” Jason’s fists clenched. “How you feeling, Repla – Tim?” That was another thing that had changed. After a long night of dealing with a Joker wannabe manipulated by Joker himself, Jason and Tim had come to an understanding of sorts. Bandaging each other up after the brutal fight that ended with more critical injuries than B would get to know about, Tim and Jason had a heart to heart of sorts. Jason had finally apologized, and Tim had admitted how much the nickname of “Replacement” brought him back to that day in Titans Tower with his childhood hero standing over him with a knife. Their relationship was still tense, but they were working on it. And Tim hated how much this new development might set them both back.

“I’m…okay. Weird.” And it was weird. Now that he was more coherent, Tim could sense something else in him. A foreign presence. He expected some kind of madness or rage like Damian and Jason had always talked about that came with the pits. But this wasn’t anything like that. It was as if he were hyperaware of all his emotions now. His worry was extra charged. His fear wasn’t worse per say, but it was more noticeable. And his confusion, God, his confusion was overwhelming. Tim had the overwhelming desire to know. To figure out everything he could about the foreign presence in his body and whatever the hell Phantom was. Tim had always been a bit obsessive about finding answers and solving problems, but now it was nearly overwhelming. The only thing keeping him in bed was Jason’s green-tinged glare, and his own concern over his altered state.

Looking at Jason, Tim was also surprised by what he could perceive from his brother. As if his ability to read emotions from body language had just exponentially increased. There was anger of course. There was always anger. But underneath it all, was worry and love and a fierce protectiveness that was all focused on Tim. Did Cass see this all the time?

Tim sucked in a breath. Was this what Phantom meant by feeling weird? This…empathy? Tim mentally added it to the post-it note list in his brain of Phantom’s confirmed abilities. He had a feeling there were even more to uncover he hadn’t observed. Had Phantom’s Lazarus Water somehow given Tim some of the abilities too?

“Tim…Tim?”

“Huh?” Tim looked up, drawn back to the present by Jason’s voice.

“You zoned out there. What do you mean by weird?”

With impeccable timing that made Tim want to strangle or thank the demon spawn, the curtains around Tim’s bedside were flung aside. “Drake, you are awake.”

Tim blinked at Damian, waiting on derogatory comment about his abilities. But none were forthcoming. Tim and Damian just stared at one another. And for the first time, Tim could actually sense the worry in Damian’s stiff frame and pointed speech rather than just assuming. So bizarre.

“Yeah, he’s awake. Want to let B know?” Jason interjected.

“He is on his way. He wanted to finish Drake’s blood analysis first.”

Jason growled, and Tim made a whine with his throat, that had him immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. It was almost like whatever was in Tim was trying to soothe something in Jason.

Jason looked over at Tim, eyes momentarily flashing green. Damian’s thin lips grew thinner in a grimace.

“What the hell was that?!” Jason demanded, voice rising.

“I-I don’t…I don’t know!” Tim exclaimed. Memories of the glowing green in his blurry vision entering his chest made Tim’s stomach churn. What had Phantom done to him?

“You spoke to the Pits! The Pits responded to you!” Jason growled.

“Th-they did? How?”

Jason opened his mouth to scream, but instead he paused, and confusion furrowed his brow. “They calmed down. How the hell did you calm them down with a noise?”

“Are you hard of hearing? I don’t know!” Tim bit the nail of his thumb. “I think it’s something to do with that kid in the alley.”

“The one who put you in critical condition?”

“What? No. There was another guy. Meta, I think. Called himself Phantom. He put my assailant in a soup thermos. And then he…” Tim choked on the next words. “Well, he put something of himself in me and then he flew me to safety.”

“Soup thermos?” Jason pulled out a flashlight and began inspecting Tim’s eyes. “And what the fuck do you mean he put something of himself in you?!”

“Ow! What are you doing?” Tim tried to struggle away.

“I’m checking your concussion. I don’t think we can take anything you say at face value.”

“That is the case even without the concussion,” Damian scoffed. But Tim could sense the growing worry underneath it. So weird.

“Shut up, demon brat.” Damian’s insults might mask his concern, but Tim wasn’t going to let that stop him from biting back.

“Boys, enough,” B’s voice interrupted as he entered the medical wing. Still in full Batman get-up, of course.

Tim dug into the pillows some, recalling Damian talking about a blood analysis. He braced himself for the next words to come out of B’s mouth, knowing the interrogation was about to begin.

“Tim, are you feeling better?”

Well, that was some emotional development there. “Oh, um…weird?” Tim replied, repeating what he told Jason earlier.

Batman hummed. “Were you cognizant enough of events to recall how you received an unknown substance in your veins?” And…there was the emotionally-stunted Bruce they all knew so well. Wait…unknown?

Tim furrowed his brow. “But I could have sworn it was Lazarus water,” he mumbled out loud.

All three other vigilantes present tensed.

“WHAT?!” Jason exclaimed.

Chapter Text

A couple days later and Danny was living his best half-life at Gotham University. Well, for the most part. There were still the Guys in White to avoid, and Lady Gotham was in a strop ever since a new ghost had critically injured one of her precious birds. A very powerful ghost that should not have manifested with that kind of power level outside of the Infinite Realms. Danny would have to do some investigation into that. Likely the only reason his last meeting with Lady Gotham hadn’t ended in a full territorial brawl last night was because he had sacrificed a part of his own core to heal Red Robin. Speaking of, he had spent the last few days in a haze of fatigue, unable to do much following up. Lending out part of his core always weakened him. He really hoped the vigilante would be all healed up by the end of the week because Danny felt like he had a cold. He hadn’t had a proper cold since he died, for Ancients’ sakes! And now his ghost form was stuck in his teenage Phantom form! He had just wanted to be less intimidating to Red Robin while also toning down his own ghost aura to evade the GIW, but side effect of not having his full core was some power limitations. Good thing he wasn’t fighting ghosts every other day anymore. Ember would never let him live it down if she saw he was flying around Gotham as “babypop” again.

Unfortunately, Tucker had been present when he returned, and had been thoroughly amused by Danny’s stuck form. At least until he found out why. Tucker had not been thrilled about Danny lending a piece of his core out to a stranger. When his ten-minute lecture hadn’t properly chastened Danny, he’d tattled to Sam and Jazz. Thankfully, Sam was in a remote jungle with limited wi-fi, busy with her volunteer work, so he had avoided her immediate wrath. Jazz on the other hand gave him a proper hour-long rant sprinkled with all sorts of psychoanalytic jargon that went over his head. He had contemplated throwing himself into the Infinite Realms to avoid it, but his portal making powers were also on the fritz. Also, he knew it would only make Jazz’s lecture even worse. But he had endured!

Today the sun was almost shining through Gotham’s smog. Danny had only needed three coffees to get through the day, and he actually felt rather confident about the history midterm he had taken earlier. With any luck he’d pick up his core piece from Red Robin later today, and he’d be back in the Infinite Realms before Sam called and could plead off he was busy taking care of a rogue baby ghost. So yes, overall, he was happy. Now, as day slipped into evening, Danny was at one of the campus’ Wayne Enterprises-funded labs tinkering with one of his new and improved specter deflectors. This time with 200-percent less pain!

“Hey, Danny!” Tucker, his best friend and roommate, called out as he entered the lab. Tucker hadn’t changed much over the years. He still remained slight of frame, but he had shot up another foot in junior year. Thanks to his Dad’s genes, Danny had still ended up a few inches taller than Tucker, much to the chagrin of his best friend. Otherwise, Tucker still wore his usual bright red beanie, warm-toned t-shirts, and cargo shorts stuffed with tech gadgets. However, overtime, his liminality had eventually corrected his vision so he no longer required corrective lenses. He also sported a goatee that he claimed “pulled the ladies,” but Danny had yet to see evidence of its mojo.

Danny took a drawn-out sip of his coffee, but did not reply.

“Oh come on, man, do not tell me you are stilling giving me the silent treatment. I was just concerned about you.”

Danny coughed, “snitch,” into his hand.

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You’ll have to talk to me eventually if we want to get phase two of our joint project done on time.” Both Danny and Tucker – despite going for different majors – ended up taking some classes together. Their joint one this semester was for their Electrical Engineering Fundamentals Lab. They were assigned a major course long project to design and implement an enhanced communications system. Considering their work fiddling with Fenton communicators so they would work even between Realms, the two of them had this project in the bag. Tucker was delusional if he thought Danny couldn’t keep up the silent treatment past midterms week.

A pain centered in Danny’s chest abruptly had him stumbling, very nearly cutting himself with the screwdriver in his hand.

“Danny? What’s wrong?” Tucker asked, immediately shifting from a playful and slightly irritated aura to concerned.

Danny winced. It took a moment, but it was clear the pain was from the center of his chest. This was not worth keeping up his silent treatment. “Something is wrong with my core.”

Tucker’s concern intensified. Danny could practically feel his own gut roll in sympathy. “Wrong how?”

Danny focused on the feeling. It had been just over six years, but he was still getting used to how his ghostly core felt. Despite being one of the most powerful ghosts in the realms, he was still barely past infancy in ghost terms. Not to mention it was even more confusing being a halfa, so his core wasn’t quite like other ghosts. “It’s like…a lot like when I give a part of my core to heal someone,” he explained. “Like someone is splitting it.”

Tucker sucked in a heady breath. And that’s when the swearing began. The types of words that would have Mama Foley reaching for the soap to wash out of his mouth. Once he exhausted a hefty number of expletives, Tucker returned to more coherent speech. “I knew you shouldn’t have fucking given up part of your core to a Bat! Of all the Ancients-damned impulsive ideas you’ve had! You do realize Gotham’s vigilantes are under the protection of the most paranoid man in the Justice League, right?”

“Are you suggesting Batman is trying to take apart my soul?” Danny deflected with a joke, which was not the correct response.

Tucker’s eyes flared bright pale blue light, emotions bringing his liminality to the surface. “You are a damned idiot and pain in my side. Ugh! You’re going to be the death of me!”

Abruptly, the strain in Danny’s chest lessened. He focused on the missing part of his core. It didn’t feel any different. Well, not entirely true. It felt angry and violated, but the splinter itself still felt whole. Distantly, Danny could hear the vague impression of Red Robin’s frustration and confusion which turned quickly to guilt. Whatever Red Robin and the other Bats had tried to accomplish apparently hadn’t worked.

“They stopped,” Danny told Tucker. “If I didn’t know better, it almost seems like Red Robin feels bad about trying to mess with my core.”

Tucker snorted. “As he should. Who just goes poking the mysterious green goo trying to heal them?”

Danny raised an eyebrow at his best friend. “You would. In fact, you have.”

Tucker waved a hand. “I was young and foolish.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you need to leave? I don’t think I like the idea of Red Robin keeping your core piece if he’s going to try experimenting on it.”

Danny shook his head. “Tonight. I’ll check in on him then. Rest of the Bats should be patrolling then so I won’t get ambushed.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Your funeral.”

“Says who? I didn’t get one the first time I died.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?!”

Danny spent the rest of his afternoon in the dorms, working on homework and performing some obligatory Kingly duties he had been putting off. While he would not be a full-time king until his complete death, the Observants and Clockwork had insisted he devote a certain amount of time training for the role. Half-dead apparently meant half devoted to the whims of Observants and Ancients. He would complain, but Danny actually enjoyed some of the work. Looking after his denizens allowed him to fulfill his protection obsession, while his current work towards an aerospace engineering degree fulfilled his space obsession.

However, his list of duties today included a task Danny didn’t have the time or capability to deal with currently. Particularly with his portals being on the fritz. He read over the letter from the Council of Observants that complained about havoc that the Ancient, Undergrowth, was wrecking in another universe. So, Danny did what usually came to mind when dealing with this particular thorn in his side, pun fully intended.

Danny pulled up his phone and face-timed the second most frequently contacted name on his list: Sam Manson.

Thankfully, Sam replied quickly. She was scowling, but Danny wasn’t concerned as it was basically her default state. Unlike Tucker, Sam had changed a fair bit. She still preferred to err more on the side of Goth, continuing to dye her hair ebony and wear black or purple whenever possible, but these days she often forewent aesthetic for practicality. Almost a necessity considering she was doing volunteer work in the conservation and ecological study of central American jungles. Her hair was cropped to an undercut style, and she usually forewent makeup these days. She had gained several more piercings since high school, and her face had taken on a sharpness that promised danger and made her alluring. If Sam and Danny hadn’t broken up for the sake of preserving their friendship as their lives took them in different directions, he would be very interested.

“What?” Sam demanded. Okay, she was being short with him. Definitely still pissed about the core-splitting thing. Not great, but the fact she had taken his call at all was a good sign.

“Undergrowth,” Danny replied.

Sam groaned. Her image was replaced with a dark screen. She’d likely put the phone down to fully curse out the Ancient. She had a strange relationship with the Ancient of Wild Nature ever since the time Undergrowth had tried to overrun Amity Park. He seemed to consider her his protégé, while Sam viewed the Ancient like a particularly annoying uncle she had unwittingly grown fond of.

“What did he do this time?” Sam’s face returned to the screen.

Danny winced, just now noticing the eyebags under her violet eyes that had only gotten more vibrant over the years of ectoplasm exposure in Amity Park. “Bad time?”

“Never a good time to wrestle an unruly Ancient,” Sam yawned. “But I am done for the day.”

“I can send someone else. Maybe an eye – ”

“Don’t you dare. Undergrowth will crush them like a bug. Just portal me wherever he is and I’ll take care of it.”

Danny winced. “Right…about that…”

Sam groaned. “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing you don’t already know about!”  Danny replied quickly. “But remember when Tucker ratted me about healing Red Robin a few days ago?”

Sam glared. An eye twitched.

Danny chuckled nervously. “Right, well, turns out it depleted my powers. A lot. No portals for now.”

Sam threw her hands up in exasperation. “Of all the idiotic…you are so lucky you’re not in strangling distance! I cannot believe – no wait, I definitely can believe you’d be this stupid – “

Danny rolled his eyes, letting Sam rant. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already heard from Tucker.

Finally Sam calmed down enough to converse again. “I don’t know what you expect me to do if you can’t portal me to Undergrowth. It’s not like he’s Technus and can be reached anywhere.”

“I just wanted to check if you were even free first. I could always send Wulf your way.”

“Yeah. And then once I’m done with Undergrowth, I can come kick your ass too,” Sam growled. “When do you get your core back intact?”

“I’m hoping tonight. But realistically, probably at least another few days.”

“Great.” And with that, Sam Manson ended the call.

Tucker let out a breath across the room. “Oof. She’s definitely pissed at you,” he remarked, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sam made good on her threat and came back later to kick his ass.

“Shut up,” Danny replied. He eyed the time staring back at him from his phone. Nearly ten o’clock. The Gotham vigilantes were probably out by this time. And Red Robin would hopefully be alone. Danny let his transformation wash over him, still bitter he was only outfitted in his old fourteen-year-old, hazmat-clad self. “I’m going to check on Red Robin. Think you can get a message to Wulf for me?”

Tucker snorted. “Of course.”

“I’ll meet you in the back here after,” Danny promised Tucker.

“You better. Or I will track your ecto-signature, and take on Batman to rescue your stupid, dead butt.”

“Tucker Foley versus the Batman. I’d pay to see that.”

“Go get your core shard back already.” Tucker waved him off.

 With a lazy salute, Danny turned invisible before phasing through the dorm wall to the outside. He focused on the missing core piece and let it lead him to the Western side of the city. He followed the feel of his core through Gotham’s streets, watching as the city’s nightlife crawled out of whatever respectable facades they wore during daylight hours. He saw Lady Gotham haunting what looked like a couple of Penguin goons on their way through the Diamond District, shoulders hunched from whatever aura the city’s ghost was currently making them feel. Danny wasn’t about to interfere with that. This was Gotham’s haunt after all.

He followed the main roads further until the city began to slip into gated communities and wide estates of the West End. Not much longer and Danny followed the trail to one of the oldest and largest manors of them all. Danny gave an appreciative whistle. He may not trust millionaires after dealing with Vlad’s schemes and the self-importance of Sam’s parents, but he could appreciate a good haunt as much as the next ghost.

Danny frowned at that. Haunt? Why did he get the sense this was a haunt? His ghost sense wasn’t going off. Yet. Danny shrugged off the feeling to figure out later. For now, his core was his priority.

Strangely enough, the thread of Danny’s core led him not into the manor home, but underneath it. To be honest, Danny should have figured out where his core was leading him far before he found himself staring at what could only be a line of a bat-themed vehicles from bikes and cars to a plane above him. He was in the Batcave! Only rumored to exist, and even more impressive than Danny could imagine. There was a life-size t-rex, a giant penny for some reason, and all sorts of other assorted memorabilia from rogues and adventures. On the top floor, Danny nearly stopped to gape at the computer system: An insane number of monitors backed by processors that hummed with power. Tucker would go absolutely feral for the setup.

Danny let himself linger a few more moments at the top of the cave, before shaking off his awe. He was here on a mission. He tugged on the connection to his core piece in Red Robin’s chest again, and felt it a few levels lower in the cave.

Danny emerged in what looked like a hospital recovery room. There were three cots. Two of them empty, but the rightmost one had a very disgruntled Red Robin slouched in a cot. He was wearing a domino mask, but was otherwise dressed down in grey sweats and an overly large Gotham Knights sweatshirt. He was glaring across the room and outside the doorway.

Danny almost startled himself back to the visible spectrum when he realized what Red Robin was glaring at. On the other side of the Cave was a faintly green glowing figure dressed in a suit and cleaning of all things. He looked remarkably human for a spirit. Like the butler of a British period drama had stepped directly off the set and into the Batcave. He wasn’t close enough for Danny’s breath to frost with his ghost sense, but Danny would recognize one of his subjects anywhere. Suddenly the haunted feeling of the manor made sense. Here was her ghost.

“You may glare as much as you wish, Master Tim. But you still lack the capability to bore holes into my back and therefore your pouting is futile,” The ghost said in one of the most posh British accents Danny had ever heard.

Amazingly, Red Robin - Tim apparently - replied back. “A coffee! A small one! That’s all I ask for!” Most ghosts outside of Amity Park and Infinite Realms were rarely strong enough to appear on the visible spectrum for the living. The fact Tim could apparently not only see, but also converse with the ghost was fascinating. Had Danny’s core piece given Tim more side effects than expected? He’d never tested this healing trick on a non-liminal person before after all.

“When you stop attempting to dissect your own body to more closely study a foreign substance obviously healing you, I will consider it,” the ghost replied back. Ah, Danny was getting the sense that this ghost would be the source of Red Robin’s guilt earlier. Red Robin, who was apparently named Tim? Weird. Sounded a bit normal for a vigilante, not like Danny had any room to talk.

“It was B’s idea!” Tim protested.

“And he is currently dealing with his own punishment, courtesy of Oracle. I believe Condiment King escaped Arkham this evening.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “Okay, that is cruel and unusual punishment. But I’m bored out of my mind, Alfred! This is just torture!”

“Then perhaps reflecting on this torture will incentivize you not to make such brash decisions for the sake of your curiosity in future,” the ghost chastised.

Danny was beginning to suspect this wasn’t a side effect at all. Red Robin and this Alfred ghost seemed to know each other well. Perhaps the ghost really was that powerful. Still, he seemed benevolent, so this probably wouldn’t require any royal intervention. He could just take his core and leave with no other ghosts the wiser.

Danny hovered in wait, lingering until the butler walked away for an opportunity to catch Red Robin alone.

Chapter Text

Tim was bored. Scratch that, he was suuuuper bored. For some reason, having a piece of whatever Lazarus water-adjacent thing in his system omitted him from doing anything. (He refused to call it ectoplasm after his initial research into the word came up with nothing but Ghostbusters fan forums. His working theory was that Phantom was a Meta who didn’t know quite what was giving him his powers and just gave it a name that fit his ghostly theme.) His research was especially inhibited after Alfred had caught him and B attempting to extract some of Phantom’s green goo from Tim, verbally thrashing them both for meddling in things they didn’t understand that thus far had only benign intentions. It was awful, and Tim was just waiting for his chance to make a break for one of the spare laptops he had stashed in the cave. Unfortunately, Alfred was nearby, currently on Tim monitoring duty while everyone else was out on patrol. No one ever managed to sneak by Alfred.

Everyone had been notably concerned about Tim. Not because he was in critical condition anymore, but more so because no one was quite sure what had attacked him or who had saved him, let alone what was currently healing him.

From the lab tests B managed to conduct before Alfred’s chastisement, they identified it as something similar to Lazarus Pit water. Not quite the same, but close enough that everyone was a little concerned and a little on edge. Jason had not been back to visit Tim since that first night. Which majorly sucked, because Tim just had a few hundred questions to ask Jason on what his Pit experience was like. Actually, that might be why his brother was avoiding the Cave.

Steph and Cass had returned yesterday, and both had showed their own versions of concern. Steph mostly flubbed through her attempts to cheer him up, punching his arm and telling him to stop acting the damsel in distress for every unknown Meta they came across. Still, he could taste her care and panic underneath her false cheer.

Speaking of empathy powers, he was slowly getting used to sensing what everyone was actually feeling. He didn’t realize how much he had assumed about his family’s inner emotions until he could literally feel what they buried underneath all their Bat-trained stoicism and Robin-bred humor. Cass caught on to his new abilities almost immediately though.

“You see more,” were the first words she spoke to him. Unsurprising, since she had watched him greet Steph.

Tim flinched. Of course, the rest of the family – inconveniently within hearing range – immediately picked up on Tim’s reaction.

“What does she mean?” Steph demanded, nodding at Black Bat.

Bruce was at Tim’s side in an instant.

“Okay don’t be mad,” Tim started.

Everyone in the Batcave groaned. Even Oracle who had been talking with Batman through his wrist computer.

“Look, I don’t think it was worth mentioning because it’s not harming me. I just have some slightly enhanced empathic abilities.” And he was nearly feverish with the need to research everything they had learned. But it hadn’t inhibited his healing so far, so Tim was fine.

Cass grinned. “Read me?”

Tim cocked his head. As usual, Cass’ frame betrayed little other than what she wanted it to. Her body language was relaxed with some mild amusement at Tim. But what he felt emanating from her was more. It was also worry and curiosity and something like hope. Tim said all of this Cass.

“Have your emotions been otherwise affected?” Batman asked.

Tim shook his head. “Just eager to get back to my work.” Not exactly a lie.

So, yes, Tim was fine. And while his family had been suitably distracting while they were around, all but Alfred had left for patrol. And Tim would be fine with that if Alfred would let him do something. Anything. Staying in bed to rest was the worst. And Tim was bored enough to try risking even Alfred’s wrath, everything in him just wanted to know. He had to figure out what was inside him despite Alfred’s warnings otherwise. He had to know who the Lazarus-water powered Meta was. He had to figure out what the GIW was and why they were a threat to him. His questions practically hummed underneath his skin. Very slowly and carefully, Tim began to extract himself from the medical cot once Alfred was out of sight.

“Do not even think about it, Master Tim,” Alfred warned from the other side of the level where he was currently inventorying medical supplies.

“Psh come on, Alfred! I might actually die of boredom here! Even just a phone would be fine! What harm could I possibly do on a phone?”

Alfred didn’t even pause in his work. “Four months ago there were three warehouses by Gotham Harbor that are damning evidence of what harm you are capable of with only a phone. Perhaps consider using this time to catch up on the sleep you are always so insistent on avoiding.”

Tim groaned and let his head fall back on the pillows. Those warehouses hadn’t even been his fault. Well, not entirely. It had been Jason’s idea. Tim had just done the planning, placed the charges, and eventually set them all off. Maybe it had been a little bit Tim’s fault.  However, it had dealt a crippling blow to Black Mask’s drug trade. Sometimes, Alfred was the worst. But it was fine. Tim just had to bide his time, and eventually, he would get his chance. He laid back for several more moments waiting for Alfred to wander further away in the cave.

“Pssst, Birdie.” A voice whispered to Tim’s right. Familiar, but not familiar enough for it to belong in the Batcave. Somehow, Phantom had found him.

The vigilante spun around in his cot, but there was no one there. His hand grabbed the stand where his IV bag was hanging, ready to use it as an improvised weapon.

“Are you seriously expecting to fight me off with medical equipment you are currently attached to?”

“Show yourself and find out,” Tim demanded in reply.

“Does that trick ever work for you?” The voice asked. Phantom seemed to be moving, hovering above Tim somewhere.  

“More than it should, honestly.”

“Fair.”

Alfred stepped into the room, likely drawn by the sound of voices. But his gaze was not on Tim, but a spot to his left. He bowed crisply, as he said, “Your majesty, welcome.”

Tim blinked with surprise, attempting to unpack that particular reaction. Especially as Phantom shimmered onto the visible spectrum, hovering over Tim’s bedside. “Hi – er – sorry I entered your haunt without asking.”

Alfred shook his head. “You saved the life of one of mine. You are more than welcome here, your majesty. If anything, I must apologize on behalf of my Family for their lack of care in handling your Core piece.”

Phantom seemed almost sheepish. “No thanks necessary. Birdie here got tangled up in a baby ghost’s formation. My responsibility is to make sure the balance is maintained. And I’ve been warned before there isn’t a mystery a Bat can leave unsolved.”

Alfred inclined his head. “Nevertheless, if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know.”

“Come on, as a fellow protective spirit, you should know that this is just par for the obsession.” And then Phantom winked – winked! – at Alfred.

Alfred was very, very still. Except for the briefest flicker of his eyes to Tim. To anyone normal, it would be innocuous. But Tim was a Bat. Something Phantom had said revealed something Alfred didn’t want Tim to know.

“Protective spirit?” Tim asked Phantom.

“Yeah. Honestly, I don’t get to meet too many normal protective spirits. Just the ones on my Council who oversee their domains. And they aren’t quite the same. Most of their protective instincts came later upon taking their mantles. But I was born – well, died – with the obsession to protect others. Got to admit, didn’t think a British butler type would be the ghost of the Bats. Had a running bet with Wes about whether or not Batman was a ghost of vengeance when we were kids. But clearly this is only one ghost’s haunt. If Wes remembers, I owe him twenty bucks.”

Phantom rambled on, oblivious to the way Tim flinched when he mentioned dying. “You aren’t…I thought you were a Meta? Are you saying you actually died?”

The air of the cave turned frigid in an instant. Cold enough that Tim’s breath came out in puffs of white steam.

“Master Tim!” Alfred chastised. “I would think after your years with Master Jason you would have learned the delicacy of inquiring about one’s death. I apologize, your majesty,” Alfred lowered his head to Phantom.

Slower than it dropped, the temperature in the cave began to warm to normal. “Ah, no worries. Honestly, should be used to it by now. I’m surprised he didn’t know the rules though. You two seem familiar enough.”

Alfred paused, and only the core piece in Tim allowed him the insight to feel that Alfred was emanating conflicted emotions. “Master Tim and his family are unaware of my…true nature,” Alfred admitted.

Tim’s jaw dropped.

Phantom’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really? Oh gosh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to – “

Alfred raised a hand to quiet Phantom. “It is of no consequence. Not a secret, so much as a truth I never found a good opportunity to reveal.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You cannot be implying what I think you’re implying,” Tim interjected. “That Alfred is a ghost?”

Phantom and Alfred both stared at Tim. “Actually, I think we’ve been rather explicit about it,” Phantom remarked.

Tim held back the question he wanted to ask next after the reaction when asked if Phantom had died. “This whole time?” He asked instead, which wasn’t much better, but Tim was a little overwhelmed having his whole world view shattered.

Alfred flinched momentarily, but his expression quickly softened as he looked at Tim. “This was not a secret kept just from you, Master Tim. Not even Bruce knows about my nature as a spirit.”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “You raised him!”

Alfred looked away. “I was all he had left. I had never gotten the chance to inform Thomas or Martha of my true nature. And Bruce was a child, grieving the only relatives he knew of. He needed someone to be his family, not just his guardian.”

Tim was quiet as he processed that. He understood Alfre’s reasoning of course, but it still seemed inconceivable that none of them had noticed.

“Great, while birdie processes that, I have a few questions myself, Mister Alfred, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Alfred tensed. “If this is about my direct contact and continual exposure to living beings in violation of – “

Phantom waved a dismissive hand. “Psh. I don’t care about all that. I’m regularly engaging with the living myself. I just meant that it’s not often I meet another protective spirit. And it’s rare to see a ghost maintain your level of tangibility and visibility outside the Infinite Realms for so long. Are you an Ancient?”

Alfred ducked his head. Tim could almost swear the man was blushing. “You flatter me, Master Phantom. But I am merely a lar – perhaps a genius.”

Phantom nodded along as if those words had meaning to him. Tim made a mental note to look them up later. “Roman household spirits. I’ve heard of them. I didn’t think there were any still in this dimension.”

“You’ve been around since Ancient Rome?!” Tim interjected.

Alfred shook his head. “Not at all. It is merely how I identify myself. An ancestor of the family in the 18th century was a noted classicist who seemed to catch on to my small tasks around the house and called me his ‘personal genius.’ This was long before I became as powerful as I am now, and much of my work was keeping drinks warm and cleansing the house of malevolent shades.”

“How did you become so powerful? If that isn’t a personal question,” Phantom asked. “As much as I know about emotion-spawned spirits, even the emotions of an entire city can only sustain the visibility of a city spirit in short bursts.”

Alfred smiled at the floating teenager. “It is a strange tale. One of Master Bruce’s great-great-great-great uncles was an amateur archaeologist. And a bit of a fool, if I may be blunt. I have at times accompanied certain family members to war or adventure when I considered them in danger, to hope my protective nature might tip the scales in their favor when needed, and carry the goodwill of the family with them. Joseph was no exception. In Mexico’s Tuxtla mountains, Master Joseph uncovered an Olmec temple with his team, and uncovered an artifact that had concentrated ectoplasm of the Infinite Realms.”

Phantom winced, rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb. “Yeah, that sounds like it doesn’t end well.”

Alfred smiled grimly. “Fortunately for Joseph, I was accompanying him. When Joseph accidentally triggered the release mechanism of the artifact, I managed to use my strength and the lingering ectoplasm of the temple to shove him away. But I was caught in the blast zone. To protect my charge, I soaked up all the ectoplasm. And ever since, I have found myself capable of many abilities spirits from outside the Realms lack.”

Phantom stared at Alfred. “This must have happened over a century ago. No matter how pure the ectoplasm released, you wouldn’t have been able to maintain this for that long.”

Alfred grimaced. “I admit, I have cheated some over the years. You must have noticed the unusual amount of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham.”

Phantom nodded his head. Tim wished he were standing purely so he could lay down again in shock. Gotham was full of some unknown substance? And they didn’t know about it? No, Alfred knew about it and he didn’t tell them?! And as Tim connected the dots with his experience around Phantom thus far, that meant this ectoplasm was the Lazarus Water-like substance currently in Tim’s chest right now.

“It is strangely intense. There are few places on Earth more concentrated. But it is kind of…hmm…sickly,” Phantom admitted with a grimace.

“Lady Gotham uses much of it to protect her city and her charges. I am fortunate to have a full family that relies on me to feed my obsession, and in turn, my core. During times of distress, Lady Gotham has lent me her own power to maintain my form and protect her knights.”

Phantom’s mouth twitched. “You’re the steward she mentioned. She said that while she protects the knights, there was another who protected their hearts.”

Alfred averted his gaze from the ghost. Was he bashful of all things? Tim’s head was spinning. “I am honored she speaks so highly of me.”

Phantom laughed, tilting his head back. It felt like the wonder of winter’s first snowfall and the brightness of sunlight glinting through ice. Cold as the grave, yet hopeful. “You are quite extraordinary, Mister Alfred. It is rare that I meet a ghost of such ambition with such selfless intentions.” Phantom continued to speak, but it was more a chittering and whistling. The core piece in Tim resonated with understanding, reveling in the strange language, though Tim didn’t understand any of it.

Even more strangely, Alfred seemed to reply. His mouth didn’t move, but the aura around him carried the whisper of overturning soil, and warmth of steam from a whistling kettle. To Tim, it sounded like coming home to Alfred in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning with hot chocolate and cookies, or an afternoon after school with tea and scones.

“What happened to the artifact, by the way?” Phantom asked, returning to English.

Alfred coughed, surprised at the question. “The artifact is no more. I…I consumed it.”

Phantom whined, and his core hummed in sympathetic pain. “That much energy…it’s a wonder it didn’t break you apart. Or succumb to your base emotions. But if it’s a type of ectoplasmic filter, it could also be part of the reason you’ve maintained your power levels over the years.”

“It very nearly did destroy me. However, I did not see another choice in order to protect my charge. And I will continue to protect to the best of my abilities my current charges.” Alfred was as stoic as ever, but the core piece inside Tim could taste the determination wafting off the butler.

But Tim had had just about enough of the revelations of Alfred. His mind was flooded with questions to ask, but Alfred would be sticking around, whereas Tim knew his time with Phantom as likely limited. He turned to Alfred, “As fascinating as this all is, this guy is your king? Of what?! The Dead?”

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “In part.”

“Phantom is the High King of the Infinite Realms. But colloquially, I suppose one might say he is the King of Ghosts.”

“He’s a child!”

“Hey! I am not. Just because I look like I’m fourteen, doesn’t mean I still am! Healing you had some side effects!”

Tim gaped. “You’re saying that healing you made you revert to a teenager? How does that make sense?”

Phantom scowled, but his frustration didn’t seem directed at Tim. “Unfortunately, like most things about ghosts, not a lot makes sense. To simplify things, putting a piece of you inside me effectively weakened me, brining me closer to the form I assumed when I first died.”

Tim bit his tongue, forcing himself not to bring up the fact apparently a dead teenager was floating in front of him. A dead teenager who was also somehow ghost royalty. 

“Appearances can be deceiving amongst ghosts,” Alfred explained. “But the form we appear in is a combination of emotions and self-determination.”

“Clearly. Is that why you always seem to have more grey hairs whenever you are exasperated with us?” Tim grumbled glaring at the butler.

Alfred smirked. “I was wondering if any of you would ever catch on.”

Tim turned away from Alfred. He had to focus on Phantom. “How does one even become king of ghosts?”

“Trial by combat. Old king was a bit of a jerk, brought my haunt into the Realms. I defeated him, and as a consolation prize, inherited a bunch of titles, a ring, and a crown. And no, I’m not explaining of that further,” Phantom answered.

Tim’s mouth did its very best impression of a goldfish as it opened and closed. “Haunt?” He couldn’t help strangling out.

“The place a ghost determines to be their territory. Literally where they ‘haunt,’” Alfred explained.

“So yours…”

“The manor, yes, Master Tim. Though following your Master Bruce’s foray into vigilantism, it came to encompass the caves underneath as well.”

“Master Phantom,” Alfred interjected. “Before you depart, I must beg of you another favor. Which I am happy to repay in any form you see fit.”

Phantom cocked his head. “Oh?”

Alfred replied quickly, “Another member of my Fraid is ill. You may know him as Red Hood. He is a revenant with ectoplasmic poisoning, I believe.”

“Uncontrollable fits of rage? Single-minded vengeance?”

“Indeed. He has become better in recent years, but…”

“Still not fun to have at a family gathering. Especially if the poisoning is turning him against his own Fraid. I’ll look into it,” Phantom promised.

Alfred looked as if Phantom had removed a great weight from his shoulders. “Thank you, Phantom. You are even more just than the rumors have proclaimed.” 

Phantom’s cheeks deepened with a greenish blush.

A rumble down the cavern signaled the return of one of the Batmobile. “Aaaand that’s my cue to skedaddle,” Phantom interjected. “So, Tim, any lingering sensations of rage? Heightened emotions? Abnormal powers?”

Tim was flustered, as Phantom flew close enough that their faces almost touching, observing him for…Tim had no idea. “Um, no to the rage thing. My emotions have been feeling weird, and I seem to be able to read emotions of others easier. Why, is that bad?” Tim demanded.

“What exactly are you feeling?” Phantom demanded.

“Mostly just empathic abilities. I can sense emotions better, and my own emotions feel heightened at times.”

“Oh, is that all? That’s perfectly natural.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Tim replied, making a pointed scan from head to the tail that was formerly legs of Phantom’s body.

Phantom ignored him. “Though you aren’t healing quite as fast as I’d like. I’d advise engaging in hobbies you enjoy.”

Red Robin stared at Phantom.

“That is not Master Phantom’s endorsement for you to patrol,” Alfred interjected, likely already noting how Tim would exploit Phantom’s words.

“What? Definitely not! I meant like art or knitting or something. Something you can do to put your emotions in a more positive state. Very important for the healing process.”

“Like photography?” Tim pried.

Phantom opened his mouth to reply, but again Alfred jumped in first. “Not your particular brand of photography, Master Tim. Though perhaps we may compromise on a laptop?”

Tim grinned at Alfred. “Really?”

Alfred sighed. “Against my better judgement, yes. It is clear that this will not be a normal healing process and I do not wish to inhibit it. Provided you remember that you are still living and need basic necessities like food and sleep.”

Yeah, sure, Tim would sleep some. After he figured out what the hell was going on. He was practically vibrating in the bed with impatience to get his hands on a laptop. It took Phantom doubling over with laughter to realize he actually was vibrating. Or something in him was.

“Wow. And I thought Tuck was obsessive about technology,” Phantom remarked. A door opened down the tunnel with a distinctive echo. Phantom cursed, or at least the tone of it sounded like a curse even if Tim couldn’t identify the language. “Okay, I really have to go now. If things escalate you end up falling through your bed or something, just try feeling for my core and squeezing it. Mentally. Please don’t try to extract it again. I’ll take it as a sign to check in on you. Got it?”

Tim most certainly did not, but he tried doing as Phantom said. He felt for the foreign emotions within him and imagined grasping them in a vise.

“Yeah! Just like that! Emergencies only, got it?”

The Batmobile roared into the cave and parked several levels below.

“Oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot! Birdie here already knows, but there’s ghost hunters about Gotham. Her cursed nature distorts the readings of most ghosts, but you might just be powerful enough for them to pick up. Stay clear of people in white suits.”

Alfred bowed his head. “I thank you for your warning.”

“Ghost hunters!?” Tim exclaimed. “What does that mean? Is that the GIW?”

Phantom glanced at the door as the sound of the Batmobile cars closing from Batman and Robin’s return. He spun back to Tim. “Sorry, no time. See you in a few days!”

“Wait! I have so many more que – and he’s gone. Great.” Tim slumped against the cushions and glared at the Wayne family butler. The revelations of Alfred’s nature were too fresh for Tim to properly identify the emotions he was feeling. But there was definitely annoyance, curiosity, and the bitterness of betrayal.

Alfred turned suddenly to Tim, face apologetic. “Master Tim, I have a request that you keep what was discussed here between us for the time being.”

Tim gaped at the Wayne family butler. “You want me to what? Alfred, you and Lazarus Boy just turned my world upside down!”

Alfred’s nostrils flared at Tim’s nickname for Phantom, but otherwise showed no other emotion. “And how do you think everyone else would feel?”

“Alfred, you can’t – “

“Please, Master Tim. Let me tell them on my own terms.”

Tim sighed. He understood all too well the desire to keep secrets close. He never thought he would have to keep a secret of this magnitude from the rest of the family though. It seemed impossible there could be a secret this large hidden from all of them. Then, if anyone could, it would be the Wayne family butler…protective spirit…whatever he was. “For now, Alfred. But…don’t they deserve to know?”

“Thank you, Master Tim. Perhaps…perhaps it is time I come clean. I will endeavor to set aside a proper time.”

“Coffee is very good at buying my silence,” Tim tested.

Alfred merely quirked an eyebrow. “I have not given into the blackmail of Wayne children yet and I am not about to start now.”

Tim pouted. Worth a shot.

“Agent A? Red Robin?” Batman called from below.

“Up here, B! Come quick! I’m dying of actual boredom,” Tim shouted. Meanwhile Alfred removed himself with a nod and quirk of the mouth that could almost be a smile.

Bruce peeked around the corner, Batman cowl removed. “You’re alright?”

“No, did you not hear me? I’m bored. Please for the love of justice and vengeance, give me a laptop. I can still work cases! Or I could work on WE stuff!”

Damian appeared in the doorframe too. “Tt. Your inability to manage something as simple as resting and healing without incident is reason enough to deny you.”

“Oh don’t get me started, Damian. You are just as bad, if not worse. You tried practicing katas with a broken leg last month.”

“Irrelevant.” The taste wafting off Damian was sour with guilt. Tim felt smug in his correct guess.

“You tried to do WHAT?!” Bruce exclaimed.

“Apparently it’s genetic,” Tim commented. “As if you haven’t done more in a worse state.”

“Stop making trouble,” Cass greeted, coming into the room to give Tim a kiss on the forehead. She radiated familial affection that wrapped around Tim like a hug.

Tim slumped. Apparently, his family didn’t want him to have any fun. His fingers twitched, itching to make notes and dive into a hole of research. Alfred had dropped a bombshell on him, and now he needed to know everything. Alfred was a ghost, Phantom was his king, and a piece of Phantom currently resided in Tim. Oh, and apparently ectoplasm was actually a thing. A thing he hadn’t received any new information about yet, other than ghosts needed it and apparently it was inside Tim!

God, could his life get any weirder? Tim immediately cursed himself for thinking that. As experience had proven thus far with its motley of aliens, Metas, assassin cults, time travel, and now, ghosts, life could always get weirder.

Chapter Text

Somehow luck was shining on Tim, because no one seemed to notice Phantom’s visit to the Cave. And even if they did, no one would be quite sure what they were looking at. Tim had already checked the footage to be sure. Phantom apparently did have technology-disrupting powers because the image was glitchy and distorted whenever Phantom was on screen. The audio was entirely corrupted. Though Tim fully believed Alfred had a hand in that. It would not surprise him in the slightest if disrupting technology was part of Alfred’s ghostly powerset considering how rarely Tim had been able to capture him in photos.

Alfred must have felt pity on him following Phantom’s conversation, because Tim was deemed fit to continue the remainder of his recuperation in his room in the manor. He rarely used his room these days – aside from recovery – now that he had his own apartment. But it was still stocked with the quintessential coffee maker, and several hidden backup laptops and burner phones.

Unfortunately, the coffee maker had been disabled. But his primary backup computer was in perfect working condition. Tim forewent rest entirely. He’d slept more than enough already. He scoured his sources for references to ghosts, King of the Infinite Realms, GIW, ectoplasm and every other buzz word swarming inside his head. He would start a bulletin board if he weren’t worried about his family discovering it.

Unfortunately, the results were mixed. He had to filter out results of supernatural hunting shows, most of them pure conspiracy rather than fact. He deep dived into ancient texts regarding Lare and Genii of Ancient Rome, but nothing that told Tim anything about their biology or abilities. In fact, it seemed that Lare and Genii shouldn’t be visible at all. Tim recalled Alfred’s mentions of Joseph Wayne, which sent him on a spiral of Bruce’s ancestor’s archeological research. Most of which has since been debunked. No mention of magical explosions of Olmec artifacts. That dead end set Tim back a good forty-five minutes. He moved on to research “King of the Infinite Realms,” and when that brought up nothing, just “Infinite Realms” in general. Nothing concrete turned up. That was the first suspicious sign. A lack of information in this day and age usually indicated a coverup. Tim tried researching ectoplasm again, but dug a little deeper this time around. The closest he could find was a college paper written about ectoplasm as a potential energy source by Madeline Alexander, Jack Fenton, and Vladimir Masters. Vlad Masters was a name Time recognized from the Fortune 500 list as CEO of Dalv Co. None of his work since college indicated any further interest in ectoplasmic research, though Tim was suspicious to note dealings with Lex Luthor during CADMUS’ heyday. As well as research into an energy source several years ago that the Masters had been rather tight-lipped about. Whatever it was, it seemed to have failed, because Dalv Co. hadn’t revealed anything since.

Researching Jack Fenton, and now wife, Madeline Alexander Fenton, was a more promising. He was brought at first to a website for “Fenton Works” that looked like it had been made by a five-year-old in the early 2000s, and hadn’t been updated sense. The colors were garish and the format unusable. It was a plague upon Tim’s eyes. Worst part? He discovered very little other than the couple proclaimed to have all manner of ghost hunting tools at their disposal and for purchase. However, Tim’s attempts to find a location for their company proved fruitless. Beyond the website, it seemed there was no record of Fenton Works on any official legal documents anywhere.

Tim was ready to start hacking government databases instead of relying on public record, but that was when Dick knocked on his door. “Timmy! Breakfast time!”

Tim shoved his laptop under his covers just as his eldest brother opened the door.

Dick took one look at him and frowned. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Of course.”

“Liar. Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you have an internet connection stashed away somewhere. Alfred told you to rest.”

Tim snorted. If Alfred truly didn’t want Tim to work, he never would have let him come up to his room and remain unsupervised.

Dick sighed, likely realizing the same. “Come on. Food and then you can go back to pretending you’re not obsessing over Lazarus Boy.”

“I’m not obsessing!” Tim crawled out of bed, shoving his feet in socks, and then donning a ratty sweatshirt a few sizes too big. Likely one of Bruce’s or Jason’s originally. But finder’s keepers.

“Uh-huh. Come on. Before Steph eats all the waffles.”

“There’s waffles?”

“Steph’s here. Of course there’s waffles.”

Tim sighed. If Steph was here that probably meant there was a full table. Which meant a whole lot of people and a whole lot of emotions that were considerably more overwhelming now that Tim could sense them.

He was right, there were more people than usual for breakfast, but thankfully the table wasn’t quite full. Jason was still staying clear, and Babs usually didn’t come over for meals unless it was Sunday. And while Selina Kyle was known to frequent the manor more often as of late, she was also absent. Tim took a seat between Duke and Cass, which was usually a safe bet. He sat across from Steph, which did sometimes lead to impromptu food fights, but Tim was probably safe while recovering.

“Good morning, Tim,” Duke greeted. “Still looking green.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Duke. “Explain what you mean by that.”

“Oh, well I was just telling Bruce last night that ever since you encountered that Meta kid, Phantom, you’ve had this slightly green aura.”

Tim glared at Bruce. “And when were you going to tell me that?”

Bruce grunted behind his newspaper. Usually Tim would interpret it as part of Batman’s need-to-know-basis dismissiveness. But he could feel the tinge of guilt wafting off B, so more likely he had forgotten once again to share pertinent information with the rest of them.

Alfred entered, carrying a plate laden with scrambled eggs in one hand, and a carafe of coffee in the other. Tim’s eyes zeroed in on the carafe, licking his lips in anticipation. Surely, they wouldn’t be so cruel as to wave sweet, sweet energy in front of his face so casually only to not allow him any.

“Actually,” Duke continued.” It’s kind of the same green that Al – “

Tim tackled Duke before he could think about it. All he knew was that Alfred had flared with worry as Duke started talking, Tim had managed to figure out that whatever energy Duke’s powers let him see probably saw whatever ghostly energy Alfred had was the same as Tim. Or close enough.

“Tim! What the hell?” Steph shouted.

Cass looked briefly at Tim now sprawled across Duke on the floor, before shrugging and returning to eating some fruit on her plate.

Damian didn’t even bother to look up from his phone. Tackling siblings at mealtimes was something he had little interest once he learned he wasn’t allowed to draw blood.

Dick and Bruce stood, both radiating concern.

“I’ll explain later, just keep quiet about the glowing, mmkay?” Tim whispered in Duke’s ear, his hand clapped over the younger boy’s mouth.

Duke – poor, naïve summer child – just nodded his head. He had learned early on it was best to just go along with their bat bullshit.

“Tim! What are you doing?” Dick exclaimed, rushing to help Duke up. “Are you alright, Duke?”

“Fine.” Duke rolled his shoulders, before putting out a hand to help Tim up.

“What was that about?” Steph asked.

“Constant vigilance. An attack could come at any moment,” Tim replied.

Steph rolled her eyes. “Nerd.”

Concerningly, B sat back down with a pensive look as if perhaps he might need to start factoring jump scares into the training regime.

Dick frowned. “Are we sure the Lazarus Pit stuff isn’t messing with your head?”

Tim retook his seat. “I’m fine. And also, why do we keep calling it that? Cleary it’s not actually Lazarus Pit water. How about we just call it what Phantom’s been calling it: ectoplasm?”

B’s eyes narrowed. “Why the change of heart? You seemed to think it was a childish name.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s shorter. Also, we continue to name our gear based off of bad puns a nine-year-old came up with. I think we’re past childishness.”

Dick squawked with indignation. “You should be grateful I named everything. You know what B called the Batmobile before I showed up? The car. The Car!”

Everyone at the table shuddered except for Bruce.

“What else was I supposed to call it?” Bruce asked.

“That lean, mean fighting machine is not to be compared with just any common vehicle. At least Dick was original.” Tim insisted.

Cass patted B’s hand in fake reassurance.

Steph scowled into her waffles. “Car. Unbelievable. This is why no one took you seriously when you first showed up.”

“You were two; how would you know?”

Breakfast further devolved from there. Tim would almost think he was in the clear for keeping Alfred’s secret, but Duke’s lingering glances and small bursts of worry said otherwise. How was he supposed to explain this and still keep Alfred’s secret?

Duke Thomas had seen many strange things since he had begun living in Wayne Manor. Actually, he’d seen many strange things for as long as he lived. He was a Gotham native after all, and there was always a point in a native Gothamite’s life when they realized that their city was not like everywhere else. In fact, most other people considered Gotham a horror-filled cesspit no sane person would live. Objectively true, but it was home.

Gotham only got weirder once Duke’s powers had been triggered. Light and shadows revealed even more strangeness in their city. The air was thick with a heavy aura that shrouded the city like a curse. Faint green energy that seemed to follow most people, as if death itself lingered just behind every Gothamite’s back. Vague shadowy figures only visible from the green glow around them took Duke months to realize were spirits of the dead. He could never interact with the spirits though. Or he hadn’t until one night while working with the We Are Robins movement, a veiled lady outlined with swirling green light and wrapped in shadows like a gown pulled up her veil and winked at Duke with her solid yellow eyes before vanishing. Not long after that, Bruce Wayne had offered to take Duke in. Which was when Duke had met Alfred Pennyworth, the second ghost he had ever interacted with. He was also certainly the most powerful ghost Duke had seen. Because not only could he see and interact with Alfred, but so could everyone else in the family. In fact, at first he thought all the Bats could see the shades of Gotham. Until several miscommunications during patrol training when he realized Alfred seemed to be the only ghost everyone else could see.

After breakfast, Tim was quick to pull Duke away and shove him into an easily overlooked closet on the second floor. Duke was only mildly concerned. While plenty of the Bat family had warned about murder attempts from Damian, he was pretty sure they were all joking. And while Tim seemed on the verge of going completely feral when he didn’t get enough sleep, Duke didn’t think fratricide was on the table.

“Care to explain, Tim?” Duke asked.

“Shhh. Have to make sure we weren’t tracked,” Tim hushed.

Duke suppressed a sigh. This family was entirely too paranoid.

They stood in silence for two minutes. Duke unfortunately knew this because the Bat training forced him to count the seconds.

“Okay, even if someone is lurking outside listening in, I have school to get to. What’s up?”

Tim shuffled back to lean against the opposite closet wall. “What did you mean at breakfast? That I was glowing green?”

“I mean you have what I like to call the ‘death vibe’ surrounding you. Most Gothamites have at least a little. But certain people – like Jason – are drenched in the glow. And then there’s the spirits.”

“Spirits? Elaborate.”

Duke chuckled. “Yeah, took me a while to realize you guys couldn’t see any of them besides Alfred.”

Tim sucked in a sharp breath. “You mean spirits like ghosts.”

“Sure.” Duke shrugged. “If you want to be semantic about it.”

“Wait, wait. You said like Alfred.”

“Yes?” Duke asked. He wasn’t quite sure what Tim was hinting at, but he wished they weren’t in darkness so he could parse his brother’s expression. Actually…Duke began to twist and bend the light from underneath the door. He bent it to better illuminate Tim’s face. Not that it helped much. Tim was wearing what the others refererred to as his “Drake mask,” apparently honed from years of the Drakes’ insistence that emotions were a weakness meant to be hidden away lest their enemies make use of them.

“You think Alfred is a ghost?” Tim asked.

“Yes. Haven’t we established this?”

“No we have not. How do you know Alfred’s a ghost?”

Duke narrowed his eyes at Tim trying to detect if this was the setup for a prank. Unfortunately, Tim was the best liar of them all. He wasn’t going to read anything off of him in the dim closet light. “Because it’s obvious? Even apart from my powers. He’s the quietest of any of us, including Cass, he seems to know everything. Never seems to eat or sleep. And have you noticed he almost always seems to wear the same outfit? What kind of butler in this day and age always wears coattails?” Not that Duke had much experience with other butlers to know.

Tim groaned, face planting into his hands.

“Er…Tim?” Duke prodded.

Tim began to chuckle, and then it turned into a laugh. Duke – like every true Gothamite faced with uncontrolled laughter – began to panic. But Tim managed to gather himself before Duke did something drastic like inject his recovering brother with a Joker venom antidote.

“Oh my God. This is the best thing to happen all year. It’s obvious, you say?”

“Er…” Duke did not reply.

“No one else knows!”  Tim cackled again. “No one else knows except the newbie. Not even Bruce knows! And you knew as soon as you arrived!”

Duke gaped. “What do you mean no one else knows? What do they think Alfred is?”

Tim wiped his eyes. “They think he’s normal. A normal, very much alive, human butler.”

Duke fell back to lean against the wall. “That’s…that’s impossible. He does so much around here. It would ne unnatural for him to care of us and this place all on his own otherwise.”

Tim chuckled again, softer and full of dry mirth. “You can’t tell them. Alfred’s secret. I only know because I got a visit from Phantom last night, and he spilled the beans.”

“You what?!” Duke exclaimed.

Tim’s face shuttered, as he realized what he’d just admitted.

“Where did you run off to that you met up with an unknown Meta slash maybe a spirit?”

“I…didn’t?” Tim settled on. “He came to the cave.”

“An unknown knows where the cave is?! B is going to have a fit!”

“He’s not…look, you can’t tell. I’m sorting it out.”

Duke scoffed. “And how long do you think you can keep this hidden? B and Oracle both check the video feeds. And tampering with the backlog has its own dangers.”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it. For now, all you need to do is pretend nothing is different. No one will ever know you know anything. Put that rookie charm of yours to use.”

Duke rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. Was this the kind of stuff the night shift was always up to? This family seriously needed to work on communication rather than the aggressive cloak and dagger nonsense.

“This is going to blow up in your face and I will sit there and watch. With popcorn!”

“Whatever. Are we agreed? No mentioning ghosts either in the cave or as secretive butlers?”

“I will continue as normal,” Duke agreed. “But if anyone comes asking, I’m not helping further your lies.”

“Fine. It won’t come to that. I have contingencies.”

Right, Duke thought, Famous last words.

In the afternoon the following day, Tim finally had the chance to corner Alfred. Since Phantom’s visit, the spirit was showing off his elusive ghost skills. Because Alfred always managed to slip away, or find himself amongst other family members so Tim couldn’t question him.

But today, everyone was out of the house. Bruce was filling in for Tim at Wayne Enterprises, Duke and Damian were at school, and Cass was at ballet rehearsal. The rest of the clan didn’t live at the manor, so they usually weren’t around during the day anyway. But Tim knew Alfred would be hard at work in the kitchen, since today’s dinner took some extra work.

Tim slipped into the kitchen. “You and I need to talk,” Tim demanded.

“Good afternoon to you too, Master Tim,” Alfred replied drily.

“Everyone is out of the house, I’ve turned off the mics and cameras in here. I would like some answers please.”

Alfred hummed. “I suppose I may take a small break. How much research have you conducted yourself?”

Tim dropped three dusty tomes on mythology and religion of Ancient Rome on a clear space of counter. His laptop was stacked on top. “Some. Most of it has come up with very little.”

“Have you rested at all?” Alfred demanded.

“Of course,” Tim replied.

Alfred hummed. “Indeed. So, it wasn’t you then with a laptop screen glowing under the covers at four this morning?”

Tim just stared. “You watched me sleep.”

“As a spirit, I certainly have no need of it myself.”

“Ugh. Fine. You know, this explains so much about your weird omniscience of this family in retrospect. Yes, I researched a lot instead of resting, but I’ve already been resting for days! And it’s not like I came up with much. Looking into Lares and Genii, the sources are all from Classical religions and myths. It’s not like the behavior of ghosts is well documented or even observed. I don’t get it.”

“I have a feeling this conversation requires tea.”

“Like that! How can you drink tea if you’re a spirit?”

“It is not out of the realm of mortal knowledge that ghosts may consume some things. In fact, many cultures often leave offerings of food and drink for spirits. Particularly ones they are said to favor.”

“But do you need it, or…” Tim trailed off, not really sure what to fill for the rest.

“Actually, I find most food quite distasteful,” Alfred admitted. “I enjoy the process of making it, but my form is not equipped to handle processing it. I must remove any biomatter myself should I consume any. Certain foods may sustain certain ghosts if there is significant emotional attachment though.”

“Like during Dia de Los Muertos when families provide offerings of the deceased’s favorite food and drink,” Tim postulated.

Alfred gave a nod. “Precisely. Many generations ago, a particular Wayne was convinced of my presence and insisted I would benefit from a proper cup of tea. Master William was what one might call eccentric, but a noted classicist of his time. William was the one to consider me a ‘personal genius,’ and a ‘family lar.’ I quite liked the sound of the terms, fashioning myself in such images.”

Tim bit his lip, already hesitant of his next question from the glares he received from both Phantom and Alfred of even broaching the subject of death.

“What is it, Master Tim?” Alfred caught on to his hesitance quickly as he removed a boiling kettle from the stove and began to prepare the teapot.

“I don’t want to ask anything that might distress or offend you. I don’t quite know the rules for talking with spirits.”

Alfred hummed thoughtfully. “Mostly it is considered rude to bring up topic of obsessions and death amongst spirits unless they specifically initiate the discussion. However, I know your already obsessive curiosity is even more heightened, so I will be lenient. As I am discussing openly with you on all matters at the moment, you may be as blunt as you like. With the provision I may decline to answer a question if I so choose.”

Tim leaned forward eagerly. “Your origins. Where did…Did you…”

Alfred held up a hand. “Master Tim, I am not the spirit of a departed ancestor. I am what other ghosts frequently refer to as a Neverborn. I was created from the manifestation of family feelings of love, loyalty and protection. The emotions of the Wayne family at the time of my conception were strong enough to manifest myself into being to act as a protective spirit for them. And the continuing protective emotions of the family have fed me ever since.”

As Alfred poured the tea, they sat in silence while Tim pondered his next question. “What happens if that stops? If the protective feelings of the Wayne family go away?”

Alfred chuckled. “I foresee very little danger of the happening with the bounty of those who have come into this family’s fold in both a professional and familiar capacity over the years.”

Tim did not let Alfred brush the topic aside. “But it wasn’t always that way. Bruce used to be the last Wayne. And he left.”

Alfred’s smile faded. “Yes. And while I have considerable reserves of power to remain alive for several years if the Wayne family were to be extinguished, eventually I would fade unless given renewed purpose. I kept myself as present as I could while raising Bruce. His dependence on me – our dependence on one another frankly – continued to fuel me with feelings of familial love and protection. During Bruce’s time abroad, I was often invisible and intangible, only otherwise to complete tasks as needed. I experienced the early stages of fading when he left. And I held on only with the hope he would return. But even upon returning, while his mission was fueled by justice for his parents, ultimately his mission was one of vengeance, not protection. I did not regain my previous strength until Master Richard came to the manor. With a son to look after and provide a better example, the mission changed as did Master Bruce. My strength grew with the accumulation of more souls here in the Manor. These days, the protective instincts of this family are so strong I rarely find it difficult to maintain a tangible form.”

Tim traced the intricate flowers around Alfred’s teacup with a finger. “You know, I always wondered why I so rarely saw you when I first arrived and Jason was still dead. You were fading then too?”

“Grief…it is a form of love. A painful one. And difficult to subsist on without being altered by it. I limited myself in that time, knowing that all too easily my protective obsession could easily be twisted into one of revenge. It has happened before. And I only barely came back from it then. As much as I wanted retribution for Master Jason’s death, I would not let this family lose me too. I am the rock upon which you all cling to in a stormy sea. I refused to compromise that role for my own vendetta.”

Tim nodded in agreement. At times, it seemed only Alfred could pull the family out of its own bickering and emotional suppression. And when they returned beaten, broken, or even dead, it was always him they looked to as a pillar of support.

“But that isn’t quite true either.”

Tim looked up, befuddlement in the twist of his frown.

“You are a rock too. At least for me. When Master Bruce and Richard refused to speak to one another and acknowledge their shared grief to anyone, you came along to force them to speak, even if only to argue. When I was consumed in my own grief, unable to even find where Jason’s spirit resided, you gave me a new family member to focus on protecting. You forced us out of our own feelings, bringing back the magic of Robin. But most importantly you brought this family back to themselves and back together. Something I cannot thank you enough for, dear boy.”

Tim sniffed at Alfred’s unexpected emotions, overwhelmed when usually he would suppress. The strange presence affecting him from Phantom only seemed to heighten the emotions he usually ignored to deal with in private later. “It’s the ghost sliver, I swear,” Tim explained.

Alfred’s smile was bemused. “I’m sure. Now, I believe that is enough emotional reminiscing on that for the day. What other questions do you have?”

With the information gathering to focus on, Tim managed to push his emotions down. He took a sip of tea to bolster himself. “Powers. You mentioned intangibility and invisibility.”

Alfred chuckled. “Master Tim, those are my normal states of being. My ‘powers’ as you consider special abilities, are being able to be seen and let me hold you all with any semblance of warmth.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”

“Very well. Then it should not surprise you that I am able to fly as well, though it has been a while since I let myself have a proper go at it other than floating to dust upper shelves. My core is earth-based, so I have an affinity for encouraging plants to take root and grow. Which is why I take particular pleasure in maintaining the Wayne gardens.”

Tim was certain if Dick were here, he’d make a joke about Alfred being a “grounding presence.” His heart twisted, thinking of the secret Alfred – and now himself – would be keeping from everyone.

“No one would mind, you know,” Tim offered. “If you told us. Sure, everyone will feel hurt and betrayed for a bit. But you’re Alfred. Wouldn’t take much for them to forgive you. And you know for certain we’d all accept you.”

“Thank you, Master Tim. But it is a secret I do not lightly reveal. I had only just decided on telling Thomas and Martha before they passed.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred held up a hand. “However, I will consider it. Any other questions?”

“Yeah. But first you should know that Duke knows. He’s known since he arrived,” Tim explained.

Alfred sighed. “I suspected Master Duke’s abilities would allow him to see what the others could not. I assume I may continue to count on his discretion?”

Tim nodded. “He assumed it was just one of those things no one in the family talked about. I don’t think he plans on deviating, but he’ll be honest if the others ask questions.”

“Thank your for letting me know.”

“As for my other questions… Jason. You asked Phantom to look into him for ectoplasmic poisoning. Have you known about that all this time?”

Alfred’s expression was sad. “Not until I saw him in person after he came back. Remember that it was many months before I encountered Jason after his return to Gotham and exposure to other members of the family. But even once I knew what was wrong, I knew there was nothing I could do to help. Not without destabilizing my own core to help him, and even then it would not be enough. And too many others in this family rely on my help to make that sacrifice.”

“Nor would Jason want you to,” Tim insisted. He held Alfred’s hand and was only mildly surprised it was still warm and steady after all their talk of spirits and ghosts. “He’d hate himself forever if you died – so to speak – to fix him.”

Alfred squeezed Tim’s hand in reassurance. “Thank you. I…I do believe I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Tim offered. He wanted to ask what made Phantom so special that he could heal the living with his own essence. That Alfred seemed to think King Phantom could cure Jason as a favor, an act that Alfred feared if he attempted himself it would erase him from existence. Unfortunately, they were interrupted before he could ask any of that.

“Hear what?” Dick’s voice coming from around the corner, caused Tim to startle.

Alfred, however, seemed non-plussed. Tim was going to attribute it to some weird ghost sense. No way he heard Dick coming. Burce’s eldest could be scarily silent when he wanted to.

“Master Tim was just telling me about a new tea shop that opened in the Diamond District. And while I adore Mister Singh’s selection, it has been difficult for him to acquire a particular blend I am partial too,” Alfred lied smoothly.

Dick grinned. “Didn’t know you could look beyond your own cup of coffee to notice anything about tea, baby bird.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I have tea with Alfred, don’t I? What are you even doing here? Don’t you have a Gymnastics Center to run?”

“Nah, I asked Tanya to cover my last two classes. Wanted to fit in some more research for a case.”

Tim perked at the mention of research. “Need any help?”

Dick snorted. “You’re supposed to be resting, Tim.”

“Yeah, from patrol. I’m fully capable of sitting in front of a computer. Alfred, back me up.”

The butler’s mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. “I would argue a nap to regain the sleep you failed to acquire these past two nights would be more productive to your recuperation.”

Tim groaned and tipped his head back to ignore Dick’s glare. “Alfred is right. You’re not doing yourself any favors if you don’t rest”

“What if the weird ectoplasm in me needs to research? A happy Tim is a healthy Tim?”

“Obsessing over cases is no substitute for proper sleeping habits.”

Dick chuckled. “And I seriously doubt the green goo in you will thrive on you burning yourself out.”

“Ugh.” Tim wanted to argue, explain that obsession seemed to fuel the ectoplasm better than anything else, but he couldn’t. Not without revealing Phantom’s visit last night to Dick.

“If you take a hour to rest, I shall brew a singular pot of coffee,” Alfred bargained.

Tim beamed. That was more than he expected. “Deal! Thanks, Alfred.”

The butler held out his hand. “Laptop if you please.”

Tim groaned. He deposited his favorite backup laptop in Alfred’s hands.

Evil older brother that he was, Dick laughed at Tim’s misery.

Chapter Text

Jason thought he was doing a fine job of avoiding the Bats for the fourth night in a row. Ever since Tim was infected by a Lazarus-Pit Meta, Jason had gone radio silent. He did not need to be around Tiny Tim hopped on Lazarus juice. Nope. Especially if the Pits listened to whatever was inside him. Jason grappled between the buildings of Crime Alley that night, enjoying the wind rushing past him, and once again re-considering wearing a full-face helmet for his cover because he missed the feeling of the wind in his hair. It was a good day. No pressing crime lord duties to manage. Instead, he’d helped some of the local ladies with a plumbing issue that morning, before checking in on some people he knew at some of the shelters (and keep tabs on the shelters themselves to ensure there was no corruption behind the scenes.) Then he ended up spending most of the afternoon tutoring some Alley kids. There was one particularly bright girl he was checking in on in particular he planned to slip onto Tim’s radar for a WE scholarship recipient.

The night was mild, and the sky was clear. Unfortunately, Gotham pollution made seeing any stars impossible, but for once Jason didn’t have to deal with the oppressive humidity common this time of year. There had yet to be any crimes of notable concern thus far, only a couple muggings that Jason didn’t have to do any more than show up before the would-be-thieves scrammed. Uneventful.

At least until Jason felt the Lazarus Pits still running through his veins pulsed with the urge to kill.

Not tonight, Jason thought to himself as he gritted his teeth and swung himself onto the nearest roof. Of course, the Pits would decide to act up the one time he was having a pleasant patrol. He had to get back to a safe house. The nearest one was two blocks over on Fifth. Unfortunately, it was one of the better stocked ones with kitchen amenities and a television – all guaranteed to be demolished by morning if the Pit Rage truly was spiking. But better another trashed safehouse than a massacre of bodies in the morgue if he tempted fate trying to make it to his safehouse on Carter Street.

But before Jason could move, a boy phased into existence, glowing green with a head of white hair floating in an invisible wind and clad in a black Hazmat suit. But none of that would have been off-putting if not for the eyes with irises glowing like a Lazarus Pit.

Jason’s vision tinted green with the Pit rage building within. He snarled.

The boy seemed unbothered, just cocking his head at Jason. “He wasn’t kidding. You are in bad shape, dude.”

And Jason wasn’t just another meathead drug dealer, he was a crime lord in Gotham, and a Bat. The evidence all pointed to “You’re the Replacement’s Lazarus Boy.”

Lazarus Boy smiled. “Never been called that one before. But it beats the nickname my hometown came up with. I’m Phantom.”

Jason stalked towards the boy. “What did Red Robin say about me? I’ll kill that pipsqueak.”

Phantom’s smile slipped away. His eyes flashed brighter and a humming sound like an electricity resonated in the air.

And then Jason nearly stumbled because the Pit rage bubbling within him seemed to lessen. No, that wasn’t quite right. The Pit in him was cowering. Like an attack dog recognizing a bigger threat.

Phantom stretched his arms behind his head. His legs unfolded from their floating criss-cross position and merged into a wispy white tail. “That’s better. However, I do recognize I’m invading your haunt. So, I’ll indulge your rotten lime Kool-Aid. Maybe we can discover a core underneath it all.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jason demanded. Before he realized it, a gun was in his hand with the safety off. How had that happened? He didn’t hurt kids. But Jason was starting to suspect that whoever was in front of him didn’t qualify.

“Might want to put the gun away. Certainly not going to do anything but hinder you,” Phantom pointed out as he braced himself into a fighting stance. Not a particularly good one either, but Jason could still recognize at least “Phantom” had some training.

Jason snorted, but it was uneasy. His arm refused to lower. “Get out of here before I hurt you, kid.”

“Buddy, I don’t think you realize quite who you’re dealing with. If you manage to hit me, I’ll buy you a burger.”

Jason found it jarring to be at the other end of a scenario he usually found himself in with one of the alley brats. “Scram, kid. I’m serious.” Jason felt the pit rage buzzing again, affecting his thoughts with green-tinted demand for blood.

“So am I,” the boy smirked. And next thing Jason knew, the boy’s fist glowed with ghostly green energy that looked like condensed Lazarus water, flinging it towards Jason like a water balloon.

Jason attempted to duck, but even his heightened reflexes couldn’t dodge the green energy. As soon as it hit, he was flung halfway across the roof. He felt burning in his chest, but it was barely there compared to the howl of fury from the Pit Rage. Fury like he hadn’t felt since the early days of heads in duffle bags and a wall painted in a Robin’s blood.

“Also, not a kid.”

Jason attacked, all instinct, as he launched himself at Phantom. Who cackled. The damn Lazarus boy laughed as dodged Jason, flying around him, and blocking destructive punches with a strength he shouldn’t possess.

“That’s more like it!”

Phantom’s training was unidentifiable as a certain style. Jason could recognize some stances, but they had a casualness to them that betrayed they were learned with an intent to hold back, not to cause more damage. Phantom kicked and punched where he saw openings, but he wasn’t throwing his full weight into it. However, whenever Phantom blocked, it was with more strength than the teenager’s slim body betrayed.  

The fight continued. Phantom seemed held back enough to keep Jason from any serious injuries.  And eventually, somewhere between the bursts of homicidal rage, Jason found himself relaxing too. As if it was just too much energy to be angry, instead settling into the same release whenever Jason sparred with one of his brothers. Something thrilling, but ultimately not life-threatening.

They could have been fighting for fifteen minutes or three hours; Jason couldn’t tell. All he knew was at some point, he had grabbed Phantom’s ankle. And instead of trying to squirm free as someone of his stature should do, Phantom flipped in mid-air, kicking his foot around and dragging Jason with it.

Jason had the wind knocked out of him as he was flipped over Phantom and his back collided with the roof, his grip loosening on Phantom’s ankle. The white-haired kid smirked over him, triumphant. “Alright, Red Hood?”

“Fuck you,” Jason spat once he caught his breath. But somehow, he was grinning.

Phantom smiled wider and offered a hand. “Can we talk business now that pleasantries are over?”

Jason could not figure out why he led Phantom to his nearest safehouse and decided to make them both pancakes at 11 o’clock at night. But here he was, pouring an egg and buttermilk mixture into the dry ingredients.

“It’s because I’m your king,” Phantom replied, sitting on the stool and watching Jason cook.

Jason baulked. “How did – “

“You were radiating pure confusion. Thought I’d try to help. But it seems I just made it worse.”

“I’m Crime Alley born and bred. I don’t have a king.”

“You may be born here, but you died. And all the dead belong to me.” Phantom’s features seemed to flicker at that. Jason had a glimpse of a floating icy crown. His form seemed to flash to something taller and broader before glitching back into a teenage frame. He thought he spotted a cloak of stars waving behind Phantom at some point too. Brief snatches of black claws, ice-blue horns, and far too many teeth to be human underneath. Sometimes it seemed Phantom gained thrice as many eyes, and for a brief flicker he seemed to have no face at all. And then, he was back to normal.

“What was that?” Jason demanded, Pits in him screeching with fear at the glitches. Jason would have fully doubted the twiggy ghost teenager possible of being the king of some dead realm, but the glimpses he’d caught betrayed something more than a dead teenager underneath.

Phantom sighed. “Kingly persona leaking through. I’m inhibited because of my situation with Red Robin, but even still my true form wants to appear when I’m being all…kingly.” Phantom waved his hand absently.

Jason whisked the mixture more intensely. “True Form? Is it going to make my brain melt if I see it?” Jason joked, thinking of myths that warned mortals not to look upon what they didn’t understand. He fully believed them in this moment.

Phantom wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think so. My friends always seem fine. I will however light up GIW sensors like an Ancients-damned beacon if I’m in my true form. So even when I’m at full capacity I try to stay in something closer to my younger form so my ecto-signature is more muted.”

“GIW? Ecto-signature? Glowstick, you are not making any sense.”

“Glowstick?!” Phantom asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. Cause you glow like one and you look like I could break your back as easily as one.”

Phantom leered. “Didn’t we just have a whole fight that proves otherwise?”

“I said ‘look like,’ not actually. Now, explain. Properly this time.”

Phantom sighed. “Ecto-signature is like a heartbeat or fingerprint for a ghost. All dead things have some kind of ecto-signature. Or in your case, undead things. The more ectoplasm an ecto-entity has, the stronger they are. Yours is stronger than most people that come back from the dead, but I blame that on whatever rancid ecto is stuck in your veins. But you live in the ecto-confused hellscape that is Gotham, so it is still small enough to warrant the GIW picking up your ecto-signature and coming here. I – however – definitely ping their sensors. Even in this weakened form.”

“Weak? You flipped me in the air with your foot.”

Phantom snorted. “I’m the king of ghosts. Do you have any idea the power it takes to keep a whole lot of emotional ectoplasm in line? I won the crown in single combat against the last guy who sucked a town into a separate dimension because he woke up cranky. You – Mr. Red Hood – are by far not the most intimidating thing I’ve come across. You’re like the same threat as a baby ghost. If that.”

“Ouch. That might actually hurt my feelings,” Jason teased. “But stop distracting me. GIW?”

“Guys in White. Or they call themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward. Shady para-government agency that hunts down ecto-entities. Nasty group. If you see people in white suits driving pedophile vans, stay the fuck away. Better yet, get the hell out of dodge.”

Jason raised a brow as he poured the first pancakes on the griddle. “Are you telling me that I’m at the same threat level as a baby to you, but a bunch of Men-In-Black wannabes scare you?”

“The men-in-black wannabes have weapons that actually work against me.”

“What could possibly work against you?”

Phantom pointed a fork at Jason. When had he even gotten out the cutlery? Jason hadn’t noticed. “If you weren’t already an ecto-entity in desperate need of such information I would question your stupidity in asking that question. My kind already have enough living enemies. As it is, you need to know what can hurt your ectoplasm. What do you fight matter with? More matter. The Infinite Realms – where the dead go – is made up of ectoplasm the same way this dimension is made of atoms. Things made of ectoplasm hurt things that have ectoplasm.”

“Ectoplasm being the Lazarus water you shot out of your hand?” Jason guessed.

Danny grinned, and brought another ball of swirling green energy into existence in his free hand. “Yeah, this stuff.”

Jason snorted. “I’ve been dipped in that stuff. It kills the healthy.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “No, no. Your Fraid member explained it to me. You got dipped in rotten ectoplasm. Stuff that lingered in the living realm too long and started binding with just enough matter to make it toxic enough to be a problem. Otherwise, ectoplasm should just cause liminality overtime. Death if someone’s really stupid about it.”

“You put some in Red Robin. What’s that going to do to him?”

Phantom paused. “I’m not…entirely sure?”

“What?” Jason growled, the protective instincts in him flaring.

Phantom gaped at Jason’s chest. “So you do have one…” he muttered.

“What did you do to Tim?” Jason demanded, slamming his hands on the counter.

Phantom flinched up to look at Jason’s eyes, more surprise than fear in his eyes. “I don’t know because I don’t do it often. But my ecto is…special. It affects the living differently. And no, I won’t explain why. Just know that where most ectoplasm seeks to bring something closer to death, mine can go the opposite way.”

“That is a bullshit explanation. And sounds to me an awful lot like Lazarus Pit Water.”

Phantom shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I am not obligated to explain how my unique biology works to you. In fact, I think we should be talking a bit more about how yours works. Mind telling me exactly what happened with this so-called ‘Lazarus Pit?’”

Jason dropped a plate full of pancakes in front of Phantom. “Not much else to say. Woke up in my grave and had to dig myself out. Walked around basically brain dead until I got shoved in Lazarus pit. Came out with some memories back, and a whole lot of rage to fill in the blanks. Got manipulated by an assassin cult to come back and take revenge. Made a lot of bad decisions, killed some people, regretted some things, don’t regret others, and slowly I’ve learned to manage the Pits.”

Phantom nodded along to Jason’s explanation while he drowned his pancakes in syrup.

“You are actually a child,” Jason remarked at the pooling syrup.

Phantom glared. “I am not. They didn’t even get to crown me until I was eighteen. Jazz made them wait until – nevermind.”

Jason stared. “Are you telling me you could have been crowned earlier? When did you defeat this other guy?”

“Oh, I was fourteen then,” Danny remarked before eating a fork full of pancake. He hummed with delight. Jason realized it wasn’t just his vocal cords making that noise, but something within Phantom’s chest that resonated with the Pits in Jason. Like how Tim had influenced the Pits when he awoke in the Cave. It was bizarre to feel delight from it over something so innocent. And Jason certainly wasn’t used to the Pits expressing such tame emotions.

Something Phantom said caught Jason’s attention. “Wait. You were how old? You look fourteen now!”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because this is what I looked like when I died. I got older.”

“You were fourteen!”

“And you were fifteen when you died. Come on, man, you should know better than anyone that children aren’t immune to death.”

Jason turned away, skin crawling with despair and rage. He couldn’t face the kid who spoke so cavalier about his own demise. It seemed even crueler that after this kid died he had to fight for some kind of crown. The dead were supposed to rest in peace. Jason had a feeling this kid’s afterlife hadn’t had a whole lot of rest and relaxation. Jason had no idea how old Phantom was now, but he doubted it was much older than twenty from the way he spoke.

“Hey, dude. It’s okay to feel those things. What happened to us was traumatic as shit. It sucked. It shouldn’t have happened, but we move forward. I’ve made my peace with my death, so don’t worry about me.”

“How old are you really?” Jason asked.

“Hmm…well, I’m a six-year-old ghost. Does that help?”

“No! That makes you sound like even more of a child!” Jason did the quick mental math. “So you’d be twenty if you were alive? You shouldn’t be worried about government agencies or ruling the undead. You should be going to college or traveling the world.”

“Whoa! Hey! This isn’t about me. This is about you. And besides, if you’re so hung up on it, why don’t you do those things?”

“Um, perhaps you missed the facts of I’m a crime lord, a murderer, and legally dead?”

Phantom shrugged. “I saw the mansion the Batcave’s under. Just buy a new identity.”

“You sound like a rich person.”

Phantom wrinkled his nose. “Never say that to me again. Ew. No. I refuse to be anything like Vlad.”

“Vlad?”

“Reformed evil, rich godfather. And no, I will not elaborate. All I’m saying is, I know how rich people operate.”

Jason sat down with his own stack of pancakes drenched in a much more reasonable amount of syrup. “You are an odd one.”

“Thanks!” Phantom chirped. “Now, speaking of evil, let’s discuss what to do about the nasty dead smoothie you’ve got flowing through you.”

“Please don’t ever call it that again. And what do you mean ‘do about it?”

“Alfred asked me to help you.”

“Alfred did. Why did Alfred think you can help?”

“Because I’m king of the dead, keep up.”

“How does Alfred know you’re the king of the dead?”

“Because he – ” At this Phantom literally bit his tongue to keep from saying anymore. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, I think I can help. But after fighting you and hearing your story, the situation is more complicated than a revenant-scenario. I’m going to have to consult someone else before I try anything.”

“What, like a ghost doctor?” Jason joked.

“Exactly!” Phantom pointed his knife at Jason in agreement. “I’ve been planning on visiting the Far Frozen – that’s where my ghost doctor lives – for a while now. I’ll head over there this weekend. Once I get my core piece back.”

Jason shook his head. “This is insane. Metas, aliens, magic, might as well add ghost kings and doctors to the mix.”

“You get used to it,” Phantom replied. “And I’ll be there to help you through it!”

Jason raised an eyebrow in a deadpan expression he’d learned from Alfred. “The King of Ghosts has time to take care of me?”

Phantom shrugged, scraping the leftover crumbs of pancakes through the remaining syrup. “The Infinite Realms are surprisingly self-sustaining. It’s honestly more like a confederation with lots of other rulers to do the actual day-to-day governing. They just call in my services for the big things or disputes between realms. And besides, I delegate most responsibilities to the Observants anyway. Well, the eyelets mostly. Getting the actual observants to do anything is like pulling out my own teeth.”

Jason paused; fork half raised to his mouth. “Observants? Eyelets?”

Phantom waved a hand. “Not important.”

Jason shook his head. It seemed the more Phantom overshared, the more questions Jason had. He still didn’t understand what Phantom could do to help him, or why.

Once Phantom finished scraping the last dredges of pancake into his mouth, he rested the cutlery on the plate. “Okay, I have to go, or I will not stay awake tomorrow. But I have an awkward ask.”

“Shoot.”

Phantom steeled himself, rolling his shoulders back. Rapidfire he asked, “CanIHaveSomeOfYourEctoplasm?”

Jason’s fork dropped, clattering on the plate. Not because he hadn’t heard. He had too much experience with speedsters not to understand rapid-fire babbling. But more so because he was shocked. “What?”

Phantom sighed. Something he didn’t seem to need to actually do because he hadn’t breathed unless consciously the whole time Jason had been talking to him. “I need a sample of your rotten ectoplasm to take to Frostbite – ghost doctor – so he can tell what’s wrong with it and tell me how to treat it.”

Jason snorted. “We haven’t been able to isolate Lazarus water from me yet, what makes you think you can? Or is this a blood draw situation?”

Phantom grimaced. “Yeah, I’d rather not do any blood drawing. Sounds icky.”

“Sounds icky?!” Jason exclaimed. “Are you sure you aren’t a child? Because evidence suggests otherwise.”

“Fuck off.”

Jason grinned. “Who lets a kid like you use that kind of language? Respect your elders.”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “Look, joking aside, I can get an isolated sample of your Pit juice. But it will be awkward and weird. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Do I need to get naked or something?”

“No! Why – nevermind. I just need to stick my hand in your chest. That’s why it’s weird!”

Jason scrunched his face with discomfort. “You’re right, that does sound awkward.”

“I promise it won’t hurt, if that helps.”

The Pits in Jason curdled. “Yeah, the Pits seem to think otherwise.”

“That’s because they know I’m a threat and I could obliterate them entirely in such a vulnerable position and they wouldn’t be able to put up a fight.”

“And you can’t do that, why?”

Phantom’s grin dropped and he stared at Jason’s chest. “Because I have no idea what that will do to you personally. Your rotten ectoplasm is bound to you physically and metaphysically. I’m worried taking it out without precautions in place will implode your soul.”

Jason gulped. “Yeah, let’s not do that.”

“Agreed. So, do I have your permission?”

The Pits screamed within Jason, and he bristled with the urge to fight again. That more than anything made him swallow the rage down and give Phantom a stiff nod.

Green tinged Jason’s vision as Phantom drew closer until Jason felt himself lose control completely. Before the Lazarus water could bring out Jason’s fully feral, undead instincts, a rumbling from Phantom like glaciers shifting made Jason freeze entirely. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Fear shot through Jason as he realized Phantom could make him do anything like this and he would be powerless. The fifteen-year-old within in him wanted to kick and scream and lash out, terrified of being trapped.

“Shhhh,” Phantom soothed as his white-gloved hand phased through Jason’s chest. He could feel the powerful aura touching the Pits within him. Phantom emanated waves of emotions that screamed “SAFE! PROTECT! PEACE!”

And then, Phantom’s hand retreated as quickly as it had entered, but now it cradled a sloshing, mandarin-size ball of glowing green Lazarus water. Seeing it now backdropped by Phantom with his own green glow and eyes, Jason wondered how he could have ever mistaken whatever Phantom had for the Lazarus water. Where the Lazarus Pit water was toxic and sickly, Phantom’s green was bright and soothing like the unfurling of new leaves in the Spring.

Phantom reached into his own chest and pulled out what looked like a soup thermos. As soon as he unscrewed the lid, he raised the Lazarus water to the top, which was automatically sucked inside. He quickly screwed the top back on.

“That’s it. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Jason felt Phantom’s commanding buzz stop, and he slumped with the relief of having his body back to himself. The Lazarus water which had been itching near the surface, barely contained, retreated to where Jason could barely sense it. Like an injured animal hiding away to lick its wounds.

“Yeah,” Jason remarked softly as he rubbed his chest which had no lingering sensations of the intrusion.

“I know it’s weird and I’ll leave you to process that. Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning,” Phantom chirped. “I’ll check in with you next week after I talk to Frostbite.”

“Uh-huh.”

Phantom gave Jason a small smile as he phased the soup thermos back in his chest. Between blinks, the ghost king vanished entirely. And seconds later, Jason couldn’t sense him at all. He was left alone with his whirling thoughts, and thoroughly cowed Lazarus water in his veins. And he had no idea what to do with either.

Chapter Text

Tim is still not sure what prompted Batman to check the video logs from the night Phantom visited the Batcave, but there had been three glorious days when the visit was not on Bruce’s radar. Three days for Tim to research, talk with Alfred, and plan contingencies for when he inevitably did find out. And yet, even when Batman cornered him to ask him to explain the glitching video feed, Tim defaulted to Contingency 3-F. Also known as: attempt to gaslight the Batman.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just me and Alfred around the cave that night. I remember because I was bored out of my mind,” Tim emphasized. Maybe the guilt of depriving Tim of his research would distract Bruce…

“Tim, the audio is completely corrupted and the video will not stop glitching. Something was in the Cave. And I suspect the self-proclaimed ‘Phantom’ you encountered is related to the issue. There were similar tech glitches during your attack and rescue.”

…or not.

Gaslight failed, so might as well try gatekeep, Tim thought to himself. “Hm. Strange. He did mention invisibility powers during our brief encounter. Perhaps I was just unable to detect his presence.”

“Tim, are you sure you’re alright? You don’t usually brush off incidents like this.”

Girlboss it is then. “Frankly, B, we have a new strain of Fear gas to worry about. I couldn’t care less about a Meta kid who has so far been benign. He said he’d find me again. We can get answers then. In the meantime, let’s worry about Scarecrow.”

Batman grunted, “Hn.” Batspeak for he was frustrated because he understood the logic but didn’t like it. Tim thought that was good enough to drop the matter for the time being. How foolish of him.

Even though Batman decided Tim was right and their focus was better spent elsewhere, that meant Bruce pulled out one of his least favorite strategies: Outsourcing. Tim came down the next night to one John Constantine attempting to light a cigarette by the bat computer. Batman snatched it out of his mouth and set it aside. Only for Steph to pilfer the unlit cigarette and deposit it in one of her many pockets. It was a toss up if she planned to smoke it later herself or just took it to be a menace.

“Good evening,” Tim greeted, entering the Batcave. He might be banned from patrol, but he had a full night planned with the Bat Computer all to himself. His fingers were twitching with eagerness to delve into encrypted databases to look more into this whole ghost fiasco. Particularly since any surface level stalking of the GIW had been particularly unfruitful.

Cass – already ready to go in her Black Bat uniform – dropped down from…somewhere to stand by Tim on the steps. Reasonably, Tim thought for a moment the terrified stumble backward from John Constantine was because of her sudden appearance. A lot of people had that reaction to Black Bat.

At least until John spoke, “Why the fuck have you Bats been messing with death magic?!”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose upon realizing the mage was here for him. He turned to Batman. “Why?”

Batman grunted. “I suspect there is a supernatural element in your condition. I called in an expert.”

“Was Zatanna not available? Raven? Doctor Fate? Captain Marvel?” Tim asked, honestly wishing anyone else from Justice League Dark could have taken this call. John Constantine had a tendency to catastrophize without explaining anything. It did nothing but ramp Batman’s paranoia up to an eleven.

“Oh fuck you too, Red,” Constantine snapped. “Now, Bats, care to explain why another one of your prodigies is soaked in death magic?”

“Another?” Black Bat chirped beside Tim. She held his hand reassuringly.

Constantine pulled out a flask and took a swig while Batman grimaced beside him. “Yeah. That crime lord Bats tells the rest of the League is off limits.”

“He’s reformed,” B corrected.

“Whatever.” Constantine returned the flask to his coat and stalked towards Tim. Tim wasn’t quite sure what the supernatural detective could see, but he scanned him from head to toe. His deepening grimace wasn’t comforting.

“What even happened? Tangle with Lady Gotham or something? Most ghosts can’t maintain enough tangibility in this hellhole to interact with the living in a physical capacity.”

“Explain,” Batman demanded. John Constantine finally stalked away. “I’m saying that I would ask if Red Robin here died and came back to life, but whatever scrap of ghostly energy is inside him is incompatible with him. In fact, I’ve never seen anything like it. I really need a smoke.”

“So it is ghosts then? We thought it was some kind of Meta kid playing hero,” Steph remarked.

Constatine fumbled the pack of smokes he’d been pulling out of his pocket. “You saw the ghost? Fully?”

“Red Robin did,” Steph answered.

Constatine’s piercing gaze swiveled to Tim. Tim had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He had grown up with the withering disappointment of Janet Drake and the dark glares of Batman at his worst. A supernatural conman did not scare him. “There were actually two so-called ghosts. One was hard to fully make out, but it did manage to put me in critical condition. Another ghost, named Phantom, fought off the first ghost and saved me. According to him, his ectoplasm was supposed to jump start my healing.”

“That’s – that’s not how ectoplasm works!” John Constantine ran his hands through his sandy hair.

“You know this substance?” Batman asked.

“Yeah. It has many names. Most magic users prefer ‘death magic’ or ‘necrotic energy,’ but it’s all the same basic stuff. From what little we know of it, we know it is generated by death, and it makes up the Infinite Realms.”

Tim’s fingers twitched at his side. Maybe John Constantine knew more than expected. “Infinite Realms?”

“Yeah. Space between the worlds. Ties together every universe, realm, afterlife, you name it. The so-called ghosts we experience here are paltry compared to the ghosts that live there.”

Tim marinated on that. It seemed to match what little Alfred and Phantom had revealed about the Infinite Realms during their conversation. “Do you know any ghosts from the Infinite Realms?”

Constatine shuddered. “Thankfully, no. I can’t imagine the trouble a ghost from beyond the veil could cause. Possession would be the least of our problems.”

“Hrm?” Batman grunted. It was not a soothing grunt. In fact it was almost strangled with B’s concern and worry. Great, this was exactly what Tim was afraid of: ambiguous catastrophizing.

“Let’s just say even gods won’t tangle with some of the players who live in the Infinite Realms. Thankfully, most ghosts are perfectly happy right where they are. And portals are so sporadic that it’s often millennia between extended visits from a Realms ghost. If one’s here in Gotham…” Constantine trailed off. “Well, let’s just say no one’s found a trace of the last civilization attempting to hold a Realms ghost.”

Tim sucked in a breath. Batman was definitely about to go full contingency-mode. Thanks a lot, John.

“Ghost boy said he’d come back to retrieve his ectoplasm,” Spoiler remarked, adding fuel to the fire. “Should we be concerned?”

“Why would they return…unless….?” Constantine rifled through his pockets. He pulled out a smooth river stone with a hole in it. The hole was filled in with some form of smoky green glass. He peered through it and immediately looked up, oozing horror as he stared at Tim. “That’s a core piece! How the buggering fuck did you get a shard of a ghost’s core?!”

“I don’t know!” Tim shouted back, near the end of his patience regarding this matter. “He just shoved it inside me!”

“Title of your sex tape,” Steph whispered in the background, earning her a flick from Cass.

Constantine continued as normal. “That’s not possible! Taking off even the barest sliver of a core should completely destabilize a ghost!”

Okay, this was new information. Tim could work with this. “It should?

“What’s a core?” Batman asked at the same time.

“Soul and mind of a ghost. Don’t know much else. They’re understandably kind of secretive because it’s the most vulnerable part of them. Surprised Deadman told me even that much. But I know the one time Deadman bruised his core, he was ineffective for days. Could barely even muster the energy to talk. Whoever this ghost is, they have a power level unlike anything I’ve encountered.”

Batman was silent. He radiated worry, fear, curiosity, and confusion. Unfortunately, that didn’t tell Tim what his Dad was thinking or planning.

“We should clearly trap this specter next time he appears and demand answers,” Robin suggested, emerging from the changing rooms.

“No, that sounds like a bad idea,” Tim interjected. “Phantom has been friendly.”

“Ghosts are unpredictable. Driven by a single desire. We don’t know what this ghost plans once they have their core fully back.” Constantine paced in front of them.

“He’s a dead teenager who helped someone in need,” Tim argued.

“A teenager who found the Batcave,” B pointed out. “We need to know how the information was leaked.”

“This is a terrible idea. How do we even trap a ghost? They can be intangible and invisible,” Steph argued. Thank God someone was on his side.

“Lucky for you lot, I might have just the thing. I hope you know this is going to cost you a pretty penny, Bats. I want hazard pay for dealing with fuckin’ ghosts.”

Tim groaned, letting his head drop to his hands. This was not going to end well.

Alfred concurred with Tim as they sat down to lunch the next day. Well, really just lunch for Tim, because Alfred didn’t eat. And it was more of a breakfast, since Tim had spent most of the night researching as planned. Research that didn’t go much of anywhere, because every time he tried to look into the Ghost Investigation Ward, a sanctioned, government-adjacent agency, he experienced firewalls the likes of which he’d never seen. This could not be legal. He did manage to discover their primary base was in Illinois. But as he tried to narrow down the search further, he was met with more roadblocks. By three am, Tim had very nearly cracked one block with Oracle’s help as she worked on another section of code simultaneously. Only for something entirely new to crop up and a single message from username Dead_Pharoh: “Go to sleep! And leave the GIW alone. You don’t know what you’re getting into.

Unfortunately, Oracle agreed about the sleep part, but she promised she would start attempting to back-hack Dead_Pharoh in the meantime. Only that finally convinced Tim to take a break. So, after five hours of restless sleep, Tim was slouched at the table in the kitchen, Alfred decorating a cake across from him.

“Does Constantine know? That you’re a ghost? He has to. He knew I had ectoplasm inside me with barely a look.”

“As I have not had the dubious pleasure of meeting Mister Constantine, I would not know.”

“Oh my God. He doesn’t know. How have you never met him?”

“Mister Constantine is not fond of sticking around for any social obligations. And as I have not encouraged Master Bruce otherwise, he has not extended an offer to the magician either.”

Tim pointed an accusing finger at Alfred. “You’re avoiding him. Because you know he’ll know. Do you do this with the rest of Justice League Dark?”

“Miss Zatara is unable to perceive supernatural entities with the same skill. I suspect she knows I am other than human, but is much too polite to comment on it. Miss Roth has never come to the manor. Captain Marvel has not indicated one way or the other if he can see me, but he is rather skittish around Batman and I suspect he is far more wrapped up in his own secrets to bother with mine.”

“Huh. Have you met Deadman?”

“Yes. Rather pleasant conversationalist. Then again, there are not many I am able to speak freely to about ghostly matters. Most ghosts in Gotham are not…as aware as I am.” Alfred wrinkled his nose.

Tim took a pensive bite of his sandwich. “You should tell B. You know what he and Constantine are trying to do down in the Cave. You can’t honestly think it will go well if they trap your king in whatever demon sigil they’re building down there.”

Alfred must have been startled, because the piping bag fell through his hand. Alfred’s reflexes were reliably quick, catching the pastry bag with his other hand before it could splatter on the floor. How had none of them ever noticed a slip like that?  “It is not a good time.”

“It never will be. But you can’t honestly think this is still a good secret to keep. What if Phantom does get upset when we trap him?”

Alfred placed the piping bag aside. “He will not be trapped.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. I have seen what Mister Constantine intends to use, and the seal will not be able to contain a being of Phantom’s power.”

“That’s worse! That means even if he does fall into our trap, he’ll just be angry and uncontained.”

“He won’t be upset,” Alfred reaffirmed, “because I have already warned him.”

“You what?!” Tim exclaimed.

Alfred sighed. “I initially contacted him to hopefully set up a meeting with you away from the Cave and put the matter behind us without the rest of the family the wiser. However, I neglected to take into account the rumored mischievous nature of the young king.”

Tim nibbled on his bread crust as he pondered that. Realization creeped upon him. “Are you telling me Phantom wants to attempt to be trapped?”

“He said – and I quote – ” Alfred’s voice shifted to mimick the teenaged ghost’s voice eerily well. It was disorienting hearing the crisp British accent slip into a Midwestern drawl.  “‘Sounds like as good a time as any to introduce myself to John Constantine. It’s about time I checked in on him. I want to see what the demons keep fussing about.”

Tim shook his head. “How did you do that? I didn’t think it was possible for you to speak in anything other than a British accent.”

Alfred’s voice returned to normal, thankfully. “Just because the Wayne ancestors saw fit to acclimate to the Colonies, I felt no such compunction. However, as a ghost I have the capability to alter my voice as I see fit.”

“Weird. So Phantom is a mischievous spirit. Great. Do you know when he’s coming?”

“I believe he intends to make his appearance tonight.”

Tim choked on his cup of water. “Are you kidding me? I’m not ready. I have questions to compile, research to finish, and a programmer to defeat.”

Alfred arched an eyebrow. “King Phantom was generous enough to lend you his core to allow you to heal. Do not tell me that you wish to delay reuniting it with him because you have not finished preparing what I am sure is a thorough interrogation.”

Tim stood. “Sorry, Alfred, no time for guilt-tripping. I have too much to do. Thanks for lunch!”  Tim shoved the last bite of sandwich in his mouth and bolted for the exit, leaving an exasperated butler behind him.

Tim was bait. John Constantine’s brilliant idea was that Tim would be the bait for a supernatural entity. How the hell had the conman managed to convince Batman this was a good idea? If Tim didn’t already know Phantom was okay with this whole situation, he would be very concerned.

Dick had his own protestations. “You are not making my little brother bait for a ghost!”

“The ghost is going to find him one way or another anyway with that little nugget inside him,” Constantine pointed out. “And he won’t harm him as long as Tim holds his core piece.”

Dick clenched his fists. “And what if he decides to remove it? What then?!”

Batman stood in typical, emotionally-stunted silence.

Tim slumped in his swivel chair at the Bat Computer. He had a migraine from the continued bickering between Constantine and various family members and his lack of research progress. Oracle still hadn’t managed to back hack Dead_Pharoh. She had come close, but had only just barely managed to shut down her systems in time to save them from frying when she triggered one of Dead_Pharoh’s traps. The malignant code had seemed almost alive according to Oracle’s report. Tim’s research had also reached several dead ends as it seemed the GIW were impossible to uncover anything about. Tim wanted to scratch himself out of his own skin from the lack of progress. Which was frankly bizarre. He didn’t do well with failure, but it had never felt quite this intense before. Even the year of Bruce’s disappearance when Tim had been at his most desperate had been more a sense of numbness than this buzzing underneath his skin. He fully blamed Phantom’s core piece inside him for making him feel so off kilter.

Tim ignored the argument around him, and breathed a sigh of relief when they all vanished to another section of the Cave, leaving Tim in peace. Tim forced himself took a break from attempting to crack the GIW and resumed stalking the Fenton family. Digging further into family records there was little activity reported about Maddie and Jack, so Tim spent some time looking into their kids. The eldest, Jasmine Fenton, was in first year med school with special interests in psychiatry and neurology at Yale. The youngest, Daniel Fenton, was the same age as Tim, in his second year at Gotham University focusing on aerospace engineering. Little presence online, but hey, at least this guy was local. And since Tim kept hitting roadblocks in his research virtually, it might be worth it to conduct an in-person interview instead.

“Oof, you’re looking frustrated, birdie,” Phantom’s voice whispered beside Tim’s ear.  

Tim immediately stiffened, head swiveling to face the ghost, but Phantom remained invisible.

“You’re here?!” Tim hissed.

“Told you I’d be back, didn’t I? Now, why are you stalking Danny Fenton?”

Tim glared at the approximate direction he heard Phantom’s voice, and he could feel a tug on the foreign core piece in the same direction. “Because finding anything on the GIW you mentioned is impossible. I need an informant. Why, do you know him?”

“Even if I did, haven’t you heard? Dead men tell no tales.” Phantom shimmered into existence with a shit-eating grin.

Tim groaned at the Dick-tier joke.

“Oof, tough crowd. Anyway, I’m just here for my ectoplasm and then we’ll both part ways as mildly inconvenienced strangers. Thanks for not trying to splice any more pieces by the way.”

“I think refraining from dissecting a piece of your soul is the least we can do.”

“True.” Phantom floated around to sit on the edge of the desk. “You may experience some lingering symptoms for a few days, but without consistent exposure, the lingering ectoplasm should leave your system naturally. You’ve never died right?”

Tim was not a hundred percent certain on that, still unclear what precisely happened between passing out in the desert and waking up next to one of Ra’s’ Lazarus Pits on his quest to rescue Bruce from the timestream. “I don’t think so.”

“How can you not know if you died?” Danny exclaimed.

“I’m a vigilante. My entire life is weird circumstances. I’ve definitely come close to it a few times, but actual heart-stopping dying? No idea.”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “And this is why I quit that whole business. Well, that and I don’t have time for it.”

“You were a vigilante?”

“Yeah. Had to be. An interdimensional portal opened in Amity Park and I was the only one able to stand between the ghosts from the Infinite Realms and the people in town.” The piece of Phantom’s core in Tim echoed with bittersweet fondness. All too familiar to the emotions Tim felt protecting his own cursed city.

“Wait. Amity Park? That’s where you’re from? Any chance that’s in Illinois?”

Phantom stared at Tim for a moment before his core let out a frustrated whine. “You need to leave this alone. It’s not your problem.”

“I think the fact that two of my family members might be hunted down by a shady government agency says otherwise.”

Phantom began muttering something under his breath. Tim could feel annoyance echoing from Phantom’s core piece still nestled inside him. And…amusement? Before he could begin to parse that out, the tread of Constantine’s boots on the nearby steps drew closer. If anyone else was with him, they were silent.

Tim whispered hurriedly. “Alfred told me you could escape the sigil. If you want to miss out on the interrogation, now’s the time to leave.”

Phantom hummed as he looked over the chalk circle and symbols drawn below them both. Phantom tested a foot on the floor, before flinching away with a hiss. The chalk flashed green momentarily. “Bastard added blood blossoms to the chalk.”

“Blood blossoms?”

“Forget about it.  I can leave, but it will sting a bit. I think Johnny and I are due a conversation anyway.”

“Oh no,” Tim muttered.

“Oh yes.” Phantom grinned. “But first!” Without warning, Phantom’s shot out his hand and reached into Tim’s chest.

He gasped with the surprise of it, but barely felt anything. Just a slight chill. And the foreign ectoplasm within him fizzing with delight to be reunited with its true owner.

“Oi! What are you doing to him?!” John Constantine shouted. The mage rushed to the sigil’s edge.

Batman was flying across the Cave, grimacing as he also stopped the edge of the sigil. “Leave Red Robin alone!” He growled. Next to him, Nightwing had his escrima sticks drawn. They crackled with electricity powering up.

Phantom flinched minutely, but his hand remained stuck in Tim’s chest. “Okay, your family is mildly terrifying. But don’t worry, Red Robin is fine! I’m just taking back what’s mine. If you could keep the death sticks sheathed, that would be great.”

“I’ll consider it if you get your hand out of my brother’s chest,” Nightwing replied, twirling one of said “death sticks” with his wrist.

“He’s not hurting me,” Tim assured those gathered. Most especially Cass who was currently lurking in a shadow opposite, shifting her weight to attack. Nightwing wouldn’t make a move until they got answers. Probably.

Phantom removed his hand from Tim’s chest, the same swirling green light Tim remembered from the night they met in his palm. But the image was clearer now that Tim was not concussed. In the middle of it, he saw a small blue-green droplet that felt as effervescent as freshly uncorked champagne. He could still faintly feel feedback from the piece, as if it was still attuned to him. It pulsated with joy now that it was once again in contact with its owner. When Phantom placed it back into his own chest, his own aura brightened. Tim now felt a hollowness in his chest where the core piece once resided.

“See? All good!” Phantom announced, as he phased his hand out of his own chest.

Phantom’s form began to flicker, distorting itself like a bad signal. Tim could see vague impressions of other elements of Phantom’s being. At one point he seemed to stretch, then shrink back again. At one point he had horns, and the next he had long silvery hair flowing around his head as if underwater. Skin flickered to blue for a moment before back to his normal tannish tone with a green glow. Eventually though, the changes stopped, and he returned to almost his original form. Phantom did seem slightly taller now, but then again, Tim could only see him from the back as the ghost was now facing Constantine and Batman. He also now had a cape that flowed off him like he had cut a slice of the night sky and fastened it to his back. Tim vaguely remembered it from the night the other ghost attacked.

“Sorry about that. Bit of a power boost putting my core back together. And I have to focus to keep it muted.”

Constantine was staring in horror. “What the fuck are you, mate?”

“Uhhh, rude. What the fuck are you, John Constantine?” Phantom snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right! You’re the soulwhore of the afterlife.” Phantom’s core radiated mischief and amusement.

Constantine choked. Batman’s lips twisted as if he’d bitten a lemon. Meanwhile, Tim was fighting to keep himself from laughing. Based off the twitch of Nightwing’s mouth, Dick was likely fighting the same urge. Cass seemed to relax minutely from Tim’s reaction too. She still clung to the shadows just in case.

“Excuse me?!”

“Phantom,” Batman drawled. “How did you discover the location of the Cave?”

Phantom crossed his legs to sit mid-air. “I just tracked my core piece down. I could still sense it in Red Robin’s chest. Why?”

“He wants to make sure we aren’t compromised,” Tim answered.

“Ohhhh, that makes sense. Well, no worries about that. I have no idea where we are other than Bristol. Don’t worry, you’re not the first rich guy I’ve met with a creepy basement. I won’t judge you too harshly since you seem to actually be doing good with it.”

Tim wished Phantom didn’t seem to distort any cameras he was around, because Tim really wished he could take a picture of the incredulous expression on Batman’s face. Well, it wasn’t too different from his normal expression actually, but the other Bats would be able to see the difference. There were few who could dumbfound the Batman. And most of those few were his kids. As it was, Dick seemed torn between concern the ghost boy had experience with other creepy basements and his own amusement at B’s expression.

“Anyway…” Danny turned back to face John Constantine. The shift in the air was palpable as the temperature dropped what must have been twenty degrees. Tim still couldn’t see Phantom’s face, but something must have shifted, because Constantine turned paler. The lights of the cave flickered. In the brief bursts of darkness, Phantom’s green glow was particularly eerie. And when Phantom spoke, it was unlike anything Tim had heard from the ghost before. It resonated, and Tim could taste the power within it. Some primal instinct in him wanted to cower and hide, years of Bat training the only thing holding Red Robin place. “Why have you attempted to trap me, Constantine?”

Perhaps from extended experience dealing with fey, demons, and other assorted supernatural beings that viewed humanity like particularly fascinating insects, Constantine took only a swig from a sliver flask before he seemed to steady himself in the ghost’s presence.

“Attempted? Mate, that circle is full of powdered blood blossoms. Even if you’re strong enough to break the seal, I doubt you’ll make it past the poison.”

“You don’t know the least of what I can do, John Constantine.”

John Constantine was a good conman. He didn’t betray anything outwardly. But Phantom was a ghost. And having had a piece of said ghost inside him recently, Tim could also detect the shock of terror that momentarily gripped the magician before he stifled it.

“That sigil is strong enough to trap an Ancient. Nothing dead is getting past those sigils,” John countered, his expression smug while panic fluttered within his aura. John Constantine was posturing. And unfortunately, Phantom’s core emanated the amusement that would inevitably call the mage’s bluff.

“Oh Johnny, I’m a ghost, not a demon. You can’t lie to me.”  Phantom looked down at the sigil some more. Tim could feel his contemplation and then a small starburst of excitement as he realized something. The mischief was back threefold. A foot tapped the chalk seal briefly. The entire thing flared with red light. The ghost shook his foot as if he’d experienced nothing more than a bit of static discharge.

“You really are a Realms ghost,” Constantine remarked, smugness dropping from his expression.

Phantom hummed. “Sort of. I was definitely created by the Infinite Realms, but I’m not a full-time resident.”

“What does that mean?” Constantine growled. “Are you an Ancient?”

At the same time, Batman spoke, “Why are you active in Gotham?”

“Don’t worry, Batman, I’m not here to cause problems. I only interfered with Red Robin because he got caught up with another ghost. Didn’t he tell you this already after I visited the other night?”

Batman grunted, whited-out eyes narrowing on Tim. Tim shrunk in his seat. That was definitely his “Red Robin and I will be discussing this in depth later” grunt. That did not bode well.

Tim tried to radiate feelings of danger! Danger! Abort! Abort! At the ghost.

Phantom turned and looked at him quizzically. “What in Ancients’ names is that supposed to mean?” And oh, Phantom looked different. He looked like…more. His eyes were greener, and his hair was slightly longer, bangs floating as if gravity didn’t apply to them. His ears were now slightly pointed, and a hint of fangs peeked from underneath his upper lip.

Red Robin cleared his throat. “Let’s just say there was certain information conveyed that I thought you might not want spread around.”

Phantom stared at Tim a few beats, before a grin slowly creeped on his face, his eyes bright with glee. “You mean they don’t even know who I am?” The ghost proceeded to double over with laughter.

Constantine glared at Red Robin. “What exactly does he mean by that, Red?”

“I told you everything you needed to know,” Tim argued. Apparently this was the sand dune he was going to die on, the tide coming in fast.

“You told us nothing, kid!”

Batman grunted in agreement. Not good.

“Baby bird, what is going on?” Nightwing asked, and oh no, that was his pleading voice. Tim was not looking forward to the guilt tripping to follow. It would definitely be more effective at breaking him than Bruce’s growls.

Phantom wiped tears from his eye as he recomposed himself. Tim vaguely wondered if they were actual tears or the instinct of crying lingering from when he was alive. “This is too good. I was wondering why my core still liked you so much after you tried to dissect it. Turns out you’re just as much of a troll as I am.”

Tim flushed. “That’s not – “

“It’s true,” Cass spoke – the traitor – as she uncurled from the shadows.

Phantom flinched. “Holy shit! Have you been there the whole time?”

“You didn’t sense her?” Tim asked. He thought for sure Cass would be just as easily to spot as anyone else with a ghost’s empathic abilities.

“Uh, no? She’s apparently remarkably good at masking her presence. Jeez, haven’t had someone sneak up on me like that since I was alive. If I had a heart, it would have stopped.”

Batman flinched at the implications of a dead kid floating in front of him.

“Anyway, this has been fun. And I’d hate to ruin birdie’s fun messing with you all, so I’m going to skedaddle. Still have several errands to run this weekend.”

Constantine pulled open a black leather-bound tome. “Don’t even think about it!” He began to chant.

But Phantom just smirked. His eyes flashed with blue for a brief moment, momentarily lighting up the chalk with the same blue light. And then, he winked at Tim before vanishing from the visible spectrum entirely. He could feel Phantom’s presence leave. Within seconds, the ghost was gone from the cave.

“Fuck!” Constantine cursed. He slammed the book shut and shoved it away in a pocket it definitely should not have fit. “I cannot believe you Bats got me mixed up with Realms ghosts! How did he even break my seal so easily? This does – “ John Constantine cut off as he tried to move and instead found his feet stuck to the floor. Without them noticing, the chalk drawings had altered. Now, there was a small circle that had unwound and wrapped around the floor where Constantine stood.

John Constantine looked down at the chalk, half in horror, half in contemplation.

“Little brother okay?” Cass asked, entering the circle and checking Tim over.

“Fine, Cass.” Tim smiled at his sister. He reveled in the feelings of worry and love wafting off her.

Next thing Tim knew, he was tackled with one of Dick’s octopus hugs. The older man’s fingers probed for any chest injuries.

“Nightwing, gerroff!” Tim complained.

“Nooooo, I have to make sure my baby brother is okay! Did the ghost boy hurt you? Are you compromised?”

“Red Robin, report,” Batman barked. Tim might have flinched, but it was clear Batman wasn’t actually angry. Instead, he was wound tightly with fear, worry, and paranoia. Tim let himself focus more on Batman’s emotions rather than his body language and tone.

Tim gulped. He had no idea how he was going to trick his way out of this conversation.

“B! Stop your regularly scheduled emotional constipation and worry about your son!” Dick chastised.

Bruce looked ashamed, but Constantine just looked unimpressed at Tim. “Yeah, report, Red Robin. How the fuck did the twerp alter my seal? This isn’t how magic works! Who the fuck have you gotten us all mixed up with?”

Well, Tim had been in tighter spots than this. And if denial didn’t work, distraction was always a great contender. And maybe he could make it work in his favor. “I know he’s a former vigilante. And he revealed tonight his old stomping ground is Amity Park, Illinois.” Give a bat a clue, and they’ll play with it until the whole case unravels.

“Hn.” Oh yeah, Batman was definitely going to be looking into it. Tim mentally high-fived himself. It would spare him some time as he figured out how exactly he was going to let the Bats know Phantom wasn’t just a ghost, he was the king of them all. And most importantly, figure out a good excuse for why he’d kept the information secret.

“That still doesn’t tell me how I’m trapped,” Constantine grumbled. “Who is this fucker, Red?”

Tim shrugged. “He’s Phantom.”

“That tells me jack shit. Now is anyone going to unseal me?”

Chapter Text

Not wanting to take any chances with shady magicians able to scam even the high lords of hell, Danny opened a portal to the Infinite Realms as soon as he was clear of the Batcave. Taking one finger twisting into the black claw of his developing Ancient-form, Danny sliced a portal into the air and stepped through.

Once safely through with the portal closed, Danny fell over into laughter. His form shifted as he laughed from the muted form akin to the teenager he’d been when he died to the kingly mantle he preferred. It was the form that changed the most with him as he aged, since it was his truest form in the realms right now. He still looked mostly human-like with soft white hair waving in non-existent wind, and the standard four limbs. But other features were decidedly less human. He had fangs and ears now that looked very similar to Dan, his alternate universe self. And wow, had that been a breakdown and a half when those showed up. But he also had other aspects that were uniquely his own. His eyes were still green, but now they were one solid color like many Ancients’ eyes. He was also more lithe and taller, just out of proportion of a typical human, which gave most of living creatures an uncanny valley unease.

Most changed of all, his outfit was a far cry from the hazmat suit he’d died in. The cape that had unfurled when his core was complete again was only the beginning. Now the cape was longer, and it didn’t just have stars, it also held shifting dust and glowing particulates like the inside of a nebula. The cape was also now tufted with fur as soft as the yetis in the far frozen. Like the yetis, Danny had also grown in two bioluminescent blue horns on top of his head that sparkled like ocean ice. His crown of fire floated between the horns, frozen mid-flame and frosted over, encased in a green aura. The ring of rage transformed back to its natural form. Once Danny had assumed the throne as King of the Infinite Realms, it had become a sleeping dragon shape with the tail curling around the finger for the band. When Danny used it, the dragon came to life, tiny gemstone eyes radiating crimson light. For Danny’s rage was protective, and what was more protectively ferocious than a dragon? These days usually only the Observants felt the might of the ring’s power, but there had a been a few encounters with the GIW that had certainly awakened the sleeping dragon.

Danny’s outfit was also no longer a hazmat suit. In his kingly form, he rarely had legs, and his ghostly tail was like the tail of comet, bright and silvery. He’d pilfered ideas from a few of his friends in the Infinite Realms as he prepared for his eventual reign. He wore a black wrap shirt, his sleeve ends wrapped over in white tape. Per Fright Knight’s request, he wore armor overtop, with spiky shoulder guards where his cape was attached. No more gloves in his kingly form. He had human-esque hands, except the fingers were longer and tipped in black claws. All around him, Danny radiated green light crackling with the ghost speak equivalent of laughter. The aura of the realms echoed its monarch’s humor.

The look on Constantine’s face had been priceless! Danny really thought he’d have to use brute force to break the magician’s seal, until his core recognized the tethers binding Constantine’s soul to his. There was no power Constantine could use against him while he was literally bound to Phantom in servitude. It only took a few ghostly commands to Uno-reverse card the magic and bind Constantine with the sigil instead. And to think Dagon had complained about Constantine’s wiliness for hours. Ha! Danny couldn’t wait to tell that self-important waste of hell space how he conned the conman in under five minutes. His next meeting with the Hell Legions might actually be pleasant for once.

Recollecting himself, Danny flew through the Zone, passing some of the familiar haunts of his future citizens.

“Whelp!” Skulker shouted from his skull-shaped island, approaching Danny. He pulled a laser rifle from behind his back and aimed it.

Phantom grinned, showing the teeth he had to hide in the mortal realm. “That’s High King Whelp to you, Skulker!” He taunted as he dodged a green ectoblast.

Phantom let Skulker chase him for a few laps around the hunter ghost’s haunt, before hiding and then jumping out to douse the ghost’s flaming helmet with a pile of snow.

Danny cackled while Skulker blustered, shaking off the flakes until they swirled away to be reabsorbed by the realms. “As impertinent as always,” he grumbled.

“Good to see you too, Skulker. How’s Ember?”

Skulker shouldered his rifle. “Off in another plane for some concert. Your sister came by and caused a racket so I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Dani’s here?” Phantom’s core practically leapt with excitement. It had been ages since they last caught up. Last Danny had heard, she had been exploring some dimension where no meteor had decimated the dinosaurs, so the earth had evolved into a planet of intelligent lizard-bird people.

Skulker shrugged. “She evaded my hunt and scampered away. You may relax knowing another day passes where your kin’s pelt is not on my wall.”

Danny shrugged. Dani would show up eventually. Probably when it was most inconvenient for Danny. He wasn’t too concerned for his clone facing Skulker in the first place. She’d grown in strength herself and could usually hold her own against most of Danny’s ex-rogues.

“Well, I have a baby ghost to release and duties to attend. Happy hunting, Skulker!” Danny waved.

“Your skin will be on my wall yet!” the ghost shouted after him, in his typical fashion.

Danny moved through the realm with similar interactions. It was always a balm on his emotional ghost-half to be around other ghosts. His core sang with the joy of interacting with those under his protection. Not to mention he hadn’t had a proper fight since last time he was here. The baby ghost he’d found in Gotham had been concerningly powerful, but still insignificant compared to the power of a Realms ghost. And Red Hood hadn’t truly understood their fight, it had been more of a chore to exhaust the poisoned ectoplasm then a proper fight. Perhaps ectoplasm-poisoned Red Hood would want to spar again once Danny worked on a way to cure him. Next time with proper banter. Red Robin would be fun to fight too, but Danny knew he shouldn’t stick around the Bats. He’d spent this long staying off their radar. And probably would have continued doing so if not for meeting Red Robin. He should take his friends’ advice and stay as far away from Gotham vigilantes as possible moving forward. But on the other hand, his poor bisexual heart had just let a hot guy hold his soul for a week and Danny was only human. Well, half human.

Danny encountered more of his friends as he made his way to his Haunt. After playing fetch with Cujo, he ended up racing Johnny and his shadow. Their race ended with Danny dropped off at the castle now known as Phantom’s Keep. Danny took a pause at the doors, bracing himself for whatever Observants were waiting for him inside. Lucky for Danny, the first ones to greet him were three pint-size eyeball ghosts, currently carrying a hog-tied red oni through the hallway.

“King Phantom! King Phantom!” They waved and called out. The twelve foot tall oni bucked and struggled, futilely hoping for a chance of escape their distraction. That’s when a fourth Observant, the tiniest of the lot at only one and a half feet tall climbed on top its chest and pulled at the restraints, admonishing the oni with a sharp tug.

“Take it easy there, Eye-sabella! Remember what I said about torture!” Danny called out to the smaller Observant. “Hey, Eye-leen, St-eye-les, Eye-van,” he greeted the other three.

While the older Observants were a consistent pain in Danny’s royal ass, he absolutely adored the baby Observants, or as he called them: Eyelets. They were a plan from the other Observants that had backfired in a major way for them. When they had first argued about whether Danny should inherit the throne, Danny had put forth the idea of a council to help alleviate some of the pressures of ruling. What had the assholes who tried to pre-emptively kill him for Dan’s mistakes decided to do with that idea? Make more of themselves.

Initially Danny was furious. Then he was more furious when he found out more Observants meant toddler eyeballs running around to whom the Observants gave all the paperwork that had been piling up over the millennia. That’s when Danny swooped in and insisted the young eyeballs get some kind of childhood before becoming bureaucrats for all eternity. The problem? Observants weren’t like your human or even ghost child. They had different needs. When Danny asked them what they wanted to do, they wanted to find loopholes in contracts and wrestle demonic entities. So that’s what Danny had them do. He gave the eyelets the fun jobs he didn’t have time to do. Tasks like hunting down tax evading gods and tossing outdated files into supernovas. Which is how Danny came to be the pseudo-guardian of a small army of baby eyeballs ranging from one to four feet tall. And because Danny was horrified to learn none of them had names, he named them himself. Furthermore, because he hated the progenitor observants, all their names were puns. 

The observants were unhappy, Danny had less to do, and most importantly, the Eyelets were content and firmly on Danny’s side. A total win in Danny’s book.

“High Prince Phantom.” an elder observant entered the hall and followed Danny. “You are late.” The observant took the opportunity to glare at St-eye-les who had abandoned his siblings and the oni to hug Phantom’s leg. At the older eyeball’s glower, St-eye-les scampered off.

Danny waved a hand dismissively. “I got held up with an earth problem. And before you badger me with my list of five hundred mundane tasks that you all think must absolutely be done this instant even though Pariah Dark managed to put them off for thousands of years while he slept, save it. I got a baby ghost to take care of first.”

The elder Observant’s eye swiveled to the young ones currently toting the oni out the door. “The council needs more oversight. It is irresponsible to send them on endeavors meant for the high king.”

Danny took a deep breath to center himself. “Okay, first of all, stop calling them ‘the council.’ They’re your kids! Second of all, I am not saddling them with paperwork and whatever lame-ass standing around you lot do watching over everything and never interfering unless it inconveniences you. They need enrichment.” Jazz would be so proud something from her lectures on developmental psychology stuck with him. “And unless you lot are going to pick up the slack and start raising your kids, I’ll do what I want. Third,” and at this, Danny smirked, “as you lot are so keen on reminding me, I am not the high king, I’m the prince. I’ll work when I’m actually dead.”

That wasn’t quite true. Phantom was definitely King of the Infinite Realms. He’d defeated Pariah Dark, he’d had the coronation, and the various leaders within the Infinite Realms had recognized his authority. Everyone considered him the high king. Everyone except certain robed peepers. The Observants insisted that since Danny was not fully dead and only worked on his kingly duties part-time, he was a high prince, the same title he’d held after defeating Pariah Dark and before Jazz would let him be crowned at eighteen. And while it frustrated Danny to no end, it did work in his favor occasionally.

The Observant fumed in that looming, glowing-eye way that inspired nightmares. But Danny ignored them. Instead, he headed for the grand staircase, pulling a Fenton thermos from his chest cavity. He had to find a room without anything flammable. He was so glad this baby ghost was a fighter. The Observants always managed to wind him up like no one else, and he already felt the need for a good spar.

Danny was just about done coaxing (read as “fatiguing”) the shadowy baby ghost into a less frenzied state when a knock on the door startled him. Danny tapped into his connection to the haunt to let the door open. Clockwork stood on the other side.

“I’m kind of busy. You should know as well as anyone how sensitive it is to coax a baby ghost out of their after-death emotion,” Danny chastised.

“I sensed it was the perfect time to interrupt,” Clockwork replied in his normally cryptic self, shifting from his infant form to a young man.

Danny’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Didn’t expect to see you this visit. Something major about to go down in the time stream?”

Clockwork cocked his head. “Depends on the choices, I think. But certainly nothing world ending. Probably.”

“You inspire so much optimism. Truly, it’s astounding,” Danny dead-panned.

The ghostling exploded into a small ball of fire and shadow before stuttering himself out back into a shadow. He was certainly tiring himself out.

Clockwork tsked. “Fire cores are always so impatient. Especially the strong ones.”

“He’ll be okay. I think. His death was full of fear and violence. He needs time to let himself look past that moment of desperation,” Danny explained. The ghostling had shared bits of memories. Scarecrow fear toxin had been prevalent. And the ghostling had died on the stuff while trapped in a burning building. His worst fears had come alive while already hallucinating them. An awful way to go. Danny remembered all too well how long his own death haunted him. Continues to haunt him.

“Speaking of, he’s abnormally strong. Any hints to give me on how such a powerful baby ghost came to be? Gotham may be saturated in ectoplasm, but this little one could manifest enough to harm the living. He would have had to form near something nearly as purely ectoplasmic as a portal to the Realms themselves.”

Clockwork shifted into his older form, a long beard falling to his feet. “The future should be safe without my interference in this matter.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “A Magic 8-Ball is more useful than you.”

The Ancient just smirked, his solid red eyes crinkling with amusement.

Danny continued, “Well, I think either way this little guy will be fine. It will take time for him to grow into himself, but I think he would do well under Firestorm’s Care.”  Firestorm wasn’t quite an Ancient, but he was a very old and powerful ghost. Danny suspected the ghost had once been some form of warlord in his past life. He ruled over an impressive haunt, unoriginally named Firestorm’s Forest, an ever-burning jungle. He often sent violent wildfires through the island, aided by his army of other fire-core ghosts. Danny had joined a few hunts for fire-conjured tigers and jaguars. Other times they re-enacted battles, which were often followed by loud dances and Barbeques that Tucker adored. Danny could never stay long with his ice core, but it was a good place to vent whenever he was particularly frustrated. Firestorm would be a good guardian.

“A wise choice, young King,” Clockwork replied.

“Thanks, Clockwork. So if you’re not here to offer advice, why are you here?”

“Can I not be curious about the state of my king?”

Danny squinted with suspicion. Clockwork’s aura radiated humor too. The Ancient was teasing him. “You could. But you’re also an all-knowing time god. So…probably not.”

Clockwork smiled, and transitioned back to his middle-aged form. “Astute. I came to warn you about those you call ‘Bats.’”

Danny’s core pulsed with unease. “To stay away?”

“On the contrary. Be cautious of them, but many futures indicate a relationship with them moving forward to be beneficial.”

Danny’s nose scrunched. That wasn’t what he expected at all. In the past, mostly Clockwork had hinted seeking out members of the Justice League of his universe to be a bad thing. “Care to elaborate?”

All Danny received in response was one of Clockwork’s insufferable smirks.

Danny sighed. “Fine. This Lar wanted me to look into the Red Hood anyway. You should see him, CW, he looks like his core is going to turn him into an evil shade at any moment!”

“Ah yes, the knight.”

“…knight?” There was no telling what Clockwork meant by that. He could have hinted that Jason was one of Lady Gotham’s knights, as one of the bats, or something else in the past, present, or future. It was a hint, but like most of Clockwork’s hints, Danny had absolutely no idea what it meant.

“I assume you will be conversing with Frostbite this visit about him?”

Danny nodded. “I’m worried I’ll hurt him if I try to help. I’d like him to take him to Frostbite myself, but I want to know a bit more about him before I show a living stranger the realms.”

“Good. Your window of opportunity with him is shorter than others.”

“Ancients, can you speak plainly for once?!”

Clockwork shrunk into the approximate form of a tween. He didn’t switch to that form often, only at his most impish. Danny loved and hated that form equally. With a smirk Clockwork replied, “no. Say hi to Alfred for me.”

Danny swiveled. “How do you know Alfred?!” He demanded.

But Clockwork was already out the door. Damn cryptic mentor.

Danny spent three days in his palace. Clockwork assured him he would be back by Sunday afternoon in his Gotham as long as he stayed no longer than four days in the Realms, so he felt no concern about staying to sort through some paperwork, and visiting Pandora to brush up on some of his martial skills. He even squeezed in a teatime with Dorathea to go over royal etiquette in different afterlife realms.

With bittersweetness, he dropped off the Gotham ghostling at Firestorm’s island, but the ghosts there were all too happy to take him under their wing. The baby ghost had developed enough of a core to begin to self- actualize. On the way to the haunt, Danny shared Red Robin’s nickname for him of “Nightmare Fuel,” which seemed to resonate with the ghostling. He had been both awestruck and ashamed to find out he had attacked one of his city’s vigilantes. Danny got the sense the ghostling was a teenager when he died. The thought made his core ache, so by the time he made it to the Far Frozen, he was practically frosted over with melancholy.

Frostbite’s jovial attitude was quick to brighten Danny’s spirit though. “Great One! It’s been too long! What has you looking like a stale snow pile?”

As Danny found himself swallowed by the yeti’s embrace, he replied, “Ghostling I met recently died as a teenager. Hit a little close to home.”

“Ah. Understandable. Come, tell me about it over cocoa. And then we’ll do a checkup.”

“Frostbite, you don’t have to do a checkup every time I come by!” Danny complained, as he wriggled his way out of the hug.

“A growing halfa is an anomaly. Ease this old spirit’s peace of mind by letting me ensure your good health.”

“Fine! But only because I need your help with another potential Halfa.”

Frostbite’s brow shot up. “Another? How?”

“Not sure. But the guy has a developing core yet he’s alive.”

“Most strange. Come! We seem to have much to catch up on.”

While Frostbite prepared their hot chocolate, Danny wrestled with some of the younger yetis in a ball game that was an anarchistic hybrid of rugby, football, and a snowball fight.  When Frostbite and Danny finally adjourned, many of the young yetis conceded victory to their “Great One,” much to Danny’s embarrassment.

“They are only teasing, you know.”

Danny flushed green. “I know. But it’s still weird. It will never not be weird.”

Frostbite only laughed at Danny’s pain. They talked about the goings on in their after-lives. Apparently the Far Frozen was expanding further and Frostbite was considering his own council now that his territory was growing larger. Danny offered an eyelet or two to help out.

“You can keep those creepy little eyeballs to yourself, Great One.”

“Come on, the young ones aren’t that bad. In fact, I much prefer them to the assholes who made them.”

Frostbite sniffed. “I don’t like the way they stare at me.”

Danny shrugged. More baby observant adorableness to himself then. “Think they will go through a teenage phase?”

Frostbite shuddered. “I fear for the Realms should that day ever come.”

Frostbite exchanged his own tales of recent developments in the Far Frozen and some of the new ghosts who had manifested. Danny shared the woes of midterms, and his drama with the baby ghost and the bats. Frostbite was less than enthused by the idea of Danny using his core to heal a stranger.

“It was Red Robin! I couldn’t just let him die! Lady Gotham would crush my core as I watched. And besides, he was only injured because of a ghost, which is my responsibility.”

“It was reckless of you.”

“When am I not reckless?” Danny countered. “it’s not like I defeated Pariah Dark with a well thought out plan full of contingencies.”

“And this is why I insist on a checkup every time you come. A miracle if you survive to your proper death day.”

“Please tell me you hear the irony in that statement.”

Danny explained more about his introduction to the Bats of Gotham, culminating in his complaints about John Constantine. And that soon turned into an at length rant about Red Robin who wouldn’t leave Amity Park and the GIW alone. “He sounds as stubborn as you, Great One.”

“Hey! At least I know when to leave stuff alone. He’s like a dog with a bone ever since I saved his life. Even Tuck is getting tired of constantly keeping him out of Technus’ net around Amity Park. He’s gotten close a few times. He scares me.”

Frostbite smiled. “Most interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Nothing, Great One.”

Danny squinted. “I don’t like that smirk you have. What are you thinking? Why is your core chuckling?”

“Tell me more about this supposed other Halfa you found,” Frostbite prompted, switching topics.

“Oh yeah. He’s a piece of work. All leather and muscles. Quick to anger too. But I suspect that’s the poisoned ectoplasm around him.”

Frostbite choked on his cocoa. “Excuse me?”

Danny winced. “Ah, did I forget to mention the poisoned ectoplasm basically feeding of the guy’s developing core?”

Frostbite stood and paced. The room turned cooler from the ghost’s agitation. Not a problem for Danny, but anyone without an ice core would be a popsicle. “How?”

“I don’t know for sure. His family Lar told me to check on him. So, I went to his haunt, we fought, and after a whole lot of miscommunication, he mentioned something about Lazarus Pits, pools of rotten ecto in the living room. I really need to add checking on that to my to do list…”

“What emotion dominated the parasitic ectoplasm?” Frostbite asked as he moved towards a bookshelf to begin skimming through some scrolls.

“Anger. But I could also sense that was part of his core. His core had protection base to it. Oh! I brought a sample!” Danny remembered, pulling another thermos out of his chest.

Frostbite sighed. “That would make things easier.” He took the thermos but was reluctant to unscrew the cap. “Describe what you sensed from him.”

“It felt like a core. It was weak though. Like a shade. And the poisoned ectoplasm wrapped around it as if it were preventing any new ectoplasm in or out of the core.”

“It is trying to suffocate the core before it is fully developed,” Frostbite theorized. “Poison it until it is corrupted entirely. The man can’t have been like this long.”

“I don’t know. It seemed the poisoned stuff only activated when he felt I was a threat. And the core struggled. Maybe it’s fighting back?”

“I would have to observe in person. Be prepared to entrap the corruption, I do not want it spreading in my realm.”

“Of course.” Danny prepped another thermos just in case as Frostbite began to unscrew the lid with his ice-encased skeletal hand.

The rotten ectoplasm from Red Hood emerged. Thrashing and bubbling in the purity of the Realms, it screamed with pain. Danny was ready to corral it, but the poisoned ecto seemed to act much like a fish on land, unable to do much but flop and stutter in place. Frostbite inspected it from a few good feet away. “Most vile. Astounding anyone could retain any semblance of sanity with this around their core.”

Danny shuddered.

Frostbite turned and rifled through his supplies before pulling out what looked to be a strange syringe. He inserted the needle into his own chest and the syringe filled with liquid glowing bright blue. Danny recognized it from a previous time he’d been in the Realms. A yeti’s core had been in critical condition from a rampaging ghost of another realm. Frostbite had used the same stuff to give his subject a boost of ectoplasm and healing. The blue glow was concentrated ectoplasm from Frostbite, particularly potent for an ice-core ghost since Frostbite was the Ancient of Snows. It wasn’t from his own core. Even now, it seemed the only person who could use his core on others was Danny, a feature – Frostbite had theorized – which had developed due to his reserves of power as High King and his Halfa-status not as dependent on his core as a normal ghost would be.

Frostbite let the tiniest droplet of the ectoplasm fall onto the writhing ectoplasm that was slowly expanding in the room, probing for host. It radiated feral anger, that made Danny’s own core hum with irritation.

As soon as the pure ectoplasm touched the Lazarus water, it howled in pain. The green mass shriveled like a worm in the sunlight. It pulsed with green light that slowly grew healthier. Whatever madness was in the poisoned ectoplasm seemed to die away. Then, once the poison seemed faint, the green light dimmed and the ectoplasm itself faded away. Only Danny with his unique bond to the Realms could feel the Infinite Realms themselves reabsorbing the ectoplasm now purified.

“Huh,” Danny remarked.

“Most fascinating. I will still need to see this Red Hood for a proper diagnosis and health plan, but for now I guess a treatment of transfusions of concentrated ectoplasm to attempt to purge and transform the poison within Red Hood. In addition, it should help feed whatever core you found within him.”

“Ecto-dejecto?” Danny suggested.

“Unless you would rather supply your own.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. “No thanks. My ectoplasm wasn’t very well received last time. I think this Red Hood would prefer if I gave him something to test first before letting me put it in him.”

“I suggest attempting it on an unattached source before attempting it on ectoplasm already bonded to a host.”

Danny nodded. “Makes sense. Hopefully the guy knows where he picked some up, because I don’t think it’s from Gotham. Her lady would have put me on clean-up duty otherwise.”

Frostbite laughed heartily at that. “I have heard that Lady Gotham is a demanding creature.”

Danny frowned, thinking of the many “tests” he had to endure to win the city ghost’s favor. “Demanding is one word for it. But I do appreciate how much she cares. I can respect her protective instincts.” It was the sadism he did not appreciate.

“Bring Red Hood to me before you attempt anything, Great One. I would advise expediency, but unless he is dying, his condition is not critical.”

Danny nodded. “I’ll see if I can convince him of an impromptu vacation for a checkup.”

Frostbite and Danny talked a while longer until Danny had to make the trip back to Gotham to be well rested for class in the morning. Frostbite and several of his yetis passed him around in what would certainly be bone-crushing hugs if he were in his living form.

“Visit soon, Great One, and bring the new halfa if you can!” Frostbite waved.

“I will!” And with a box of ectoplasmic ice pops to go, courtesy of the yetis, Danny departed.

It took him a good hour or so to navigate himself into a location in the Infinite Realms close enough for a portal to his earth. So, by the time he portaled back to his dorm room, he slumped on the bed in exhaustion.

“Welcome back, your ghostliness,” Tucker greeted. “How were the Realms?”

Danny transformed back into his alive half and rolled over so he wouldn’t be speaking into his pillow. “Good. Everyone is doing well. Clockwork is cryptic as ever, the elder Ancients are still assholes, and Frostbite gave me lots of advice. Duulaman’s people want to talk with you, so if you’re up for it, you may have to come with me next time. Oh! And Eye-rene says hi. I think she has a crush on you.”

Tucker sighed. “What are you teaching these eye-drops?”

“Ooh! That’s a good name for them too. I might use that. Can you believe the Observants are still calling them council members?”

“Seeing as how those crusty eyeballs are allergic to change, yes, I can believe it.”

“Everything go well on this side of the veil?”

“For the most part. Red Robin tried breaking through the firewalls some more. I think Oracle has given up ever since she figured out the code was in an incomprehensible and ever-shifting language. Otherwise it’s been a quiet couple days for Gotham.”

Danny laughed. He’s seen enough of Tucker fending off Red Robin and Oracle before he left for the Realms to know Tucker’s weekend had been anything but quiet. “Speaking of the Bats, you will never guess what happened when I went back to see Red Robin.”

“Dude, you are a bisexual disaster and have commented on the vigilante more than necessary, even if the guy did have a piece of his soul in you. I’m sure I will believe whatever fiasco you brought upon yourself.”

“No, listen! Remember, soul whore man…”

Chapter Text

Tim was currently in what his brother, Dick, called a research burrito. Usually this was when the family started cutting off Tim’s caffeine intake. However, Tim had been cleared to return to return to his apartment yesterday after Alfred, Leslie, and Batman had run a hundred little tests and found him almost back to normal. Tim jumped at the chance to leave, because he was an adult with his own apartment and therefore could have as much coffee as he pleased. No Bats here to take away the coffee pot in his Nest. Tim also wanted to get back in the field as soon as possible, because his ability to sense emotions around him had muted. He hoped it didn’t disappear entirely before he could get further in his investigation of ghosts and Anti-Ecto Acts. He also hoped it stuck around until Tuesday for his day job, because he was hoping to feel the fear in the room when he surprised WE’s board members at the quarterly meeting. For now, they were all under the impression they’d be dealing with Brucie Wayne.

He'd all but given up on finding more about the GIW. And after a weekend spent trying to hack the same type of firewalls around information for Amity Park, Tim was just about to give up on that too. He was going to make a visit in person, but when Batman had seen the firewalls for himself, he said that he would be making it a Justice League priority instead. Stupid. What could Flash or Superman do that he couldn’t?

So, Tim returned to researching the Fentons. Which then expanded his search to known associates. His focus now was on the one Fenton based in Gotham: Danny, son of the two ecto-scientists, and currently enrolled at Gotham U. His roommate, Tucker Foley, was also an Amity Park native apparently. Both good students. Smart. Hacking school records showed both turned in innovative projects. And one coding project in particular had Tucker Foley’s professor flummoxed on how he’d made it work, but still graded him well on the results. Looking over the code itself early Monday morning had Tim nearly spitting out his coffee over the screen. Because it shouldn’t have been possible, but one section of code in particular had a distinctive, incomprehensible syntax to it. The same type of code that powered the firewalls around Amity Park. Tim scoured the other coding work he could find from Foley. Most of them still followed standardized coding rules, but every so often there would be some addition that shouldn’t work, but somehow streamlined code in a way reminiscent of qubit entanglement from Tim’s brief foray into quantum computing for a case.  Foley was either an undiscovered genius to force standard binary signals to interact like quantum qubits, or he was working with something that allowed him to change the very nature of electricity.

Tim sent along the new information to Oracle for her to review before he finally let himself go to sleep. With board meetings in the morning and some undergrads to stalk in the afternoon, he had a full day planned.

“And here we have a Smithwick Hall,” the vice president gestured to yet another building in the Gothic style familiar to old Gotham. “Despite being a source of community building for our on-campus student body, it has not been renovated since 1971.”

Tim’s eye twitched, betraying his annoyance. He was going to fire Tam for this. (He wasn’t because she was probably irreplaceable. But he’d figure out some way to get his revenge.) He had wanted to confront Danny Fenton and Tucker Foley under an alias. He had a few choice words for Tucker Foley about his impossible code, and something about Danny Fenton was bothering him. Ever since he’d seen photos of the young man, something had caught Tim’s attention. He wasn’t sure what yet.

It would have been so easy to infiltrate the college as a student. He wouldn’t have even had to try very hard for a disguise. At his current age, he definitely looked like he belonged on a college campus. The eyebags from lack of sleep only helped. And then he could have spent uninterrupted hours tracking and talking to the Amity Parkers rather than the fifteen minutes under scrutiny he was probably going to get.

Unfortunately, his assistant, Tam, absolutely would not let him skive off work unless he went to Gotham University under the pretense of a donation or following up on WE’s scholarship program. Something about leaving her to deal with his bullshit excuses. Tim hadn’t really been paying attention. Which is how Timothy Drake-Wayne ended up on a long-winded tour with the college’s vice president.

“I’m afraid I don’t have very much time left today. Is there any chance of seeing the engineering laboratories before I have to go?” Tim interrupted. Based off the time, Fenton and Foley had a half hour left of their shared lab class.

“O-of course, Mr. Wayne. Right this way. Although Smithwick Hall does have its own needs...”

Tim sighed. He did not want to invest in renovations for a cruddy dormitory. And he doubted Tam would be happy if he promised to invest in a dorm building. She probably wouldn’t settle for less than them naming a school off the Wayne name. It was honestly surprising there wasn’t one already for how long the Waynes had been in Gotham. Maybe he could throw his personal money at the building? Drake-Wayne Hall had a nice ring to it…

No! Tim mentally slapped himself. No pulling a Bruce to get out of social situations. Money does not solve all your problems.

Thankfully, Vice President Larson ceded to Tim’s request, and they hustled across the main campus to the much more modern Math and Engineering Complex. Larson rambled about the history of the building some before extolling on some of the more favorable statistics of the college as they toured the building. The labs – due to hefty investments from multiple Gotham businesses following the example of Wayne Enterprises – were well furnished and state of the art, just as Tim expected. He’d help with the design and budgeting for some of them back when he was still considering college.

By lab three though, he was starting to wonder if they’d even make it to the proper lab to catch Foley and Fenton in. Their class period was quickly running out. Fortunately, lab four proved fruitful.

“And this is our largest systems laboratory,” the vice-president as he began to extol on the virtues of the university’s electrical engineering program.

“Mind if I look around and talk to some of the students?” Tim interrupted casually. He had zeroed in on his targets. They were at the same table. Foley looked to be absorbed in something on a tablet while Fenton fiddled with some kind of hardware as he swiveled idly on a stool.

“O-oh. Of course Mr. Drake.”

Tim nodded. He checked the time. Thirteen minutes until the lab was scheduled to be released. Not a whole lot of time to be nonchalant. He made a stop at one other table, introducing himself to a stuttering computer science major as she explained her modified code for calculating and predicting air density changes, and then excused himself quickly before strolling to Fenton and Foley’s table.

“Do you think a smaller amperage would help?” Fenton asked his tablemate as he untwisted some wire in the round disc he was tinkering with.

Foley snapped at this tablemate, “Have you considered working on our actual project instead of a – hello?” With Fenton’s distraction he had looked up and caught sight of Tim. He scanned the suit with a frown until some kind of recognition clicked his jaw dropped.

“Ancients,” Foley gasped.

“Good afternoon,” Tim greeted.

Fenton’s head snapped up. Tim’s eyes widened at the deep blue eyes that pierced Tim. His heart stuttered looking at the man. The few pictures Tim had found did not do Daniel D. Fenton justice. He was lean, but evidently in good shape from the curve of his muscles peeking from underneath his t-shirt. A balance between the bulk of his father and the leanness of his mother. Jaw was sharp enough to cut glass and shadowed from a close shave. His hair was straight and jet black, nearly covering ice-blue eyes that Tim couldn’t look away from. A couple years younger and he would have been prime adoption bait for Batman. Hell, Fenton could be adoption bait now. That would be a tragedy because Tim’s libido wanted to do unspeakable things to this man. No! Focus, Tim, you disaster of a bisexual! Tim’s inner monologue – that sounded an awful lot like Stephanie – chastised.

Fenton cocked his head. He opened his mouth with a question and then slowly closed it as his eyes widened. With recognition too?

“You-you’re Tim Drake-Wayne?!” Foley gasped.

Tim granted Foley his public smile with teeth. Before he could reply, Foley began to babble. “I am such a huge fan. WE tech under your leadership revolutionized the industry of mass-produced communications technology to make them more affordable. And I absolutely adore the progress you’re making on more eco-friendly batteries. My friend has a harder time pinning WE with the rest of the soul-sucking capitalists with all that you’ve been doing. Even WE helps supply the Justice League. And sure, I bet you can’t confirm that or any – “

“Tuck!” Fenton hissed, stopping his friend.

“Oh sorry. I’m rambling, right? My bad.”

Tim chuckled easily. It wasn’t like he was surprised to meet a fan in an electrical engineering course. Still, he was not thrilled to note that rumors of WE supplying the Justice League were getting around. “Always happy to hear a fan rather than a critic. Especially from the future engineers. Who do I have the pleasure of the speaking with?”

Foley stuck his hand out so fast that Tim also suspected some sort of speed powers. “Tucker Foley, sir. And that’s Danny Fenton.”

Tim grinned his typical gala smile, reminiscent of Brucie Wayne at his finest. “Please, I doubt I’m any older than you. Call me Tim. Mind if I ask what you’re working on?”

Foley and Fenton exchanged looks from the corners of their eyes. “u-uh, sure,” Foley suddenly stuttered. “I’m working on the code for our semester project. We wanted to adjust a closed communication system to work longer range.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. Not very impressive. Especially since the Justice League had already had that kind of tech that could work around the planet for years. He’d seen much more interesting work from both college students when looking through their records. “How far?”

Danny’s mouth quirked. Tucker had his own small smile as if they were sharing a private joke as he replied, “Farther than any distance on Earth.” And…that smile was really familiar. Tim narrowed his eyes. Why did Fenton look so familiar? And not just because Tim had been investigating him all weekend. Being in person with Fenton’s conspiring smirk was eerily reminiscent of…of Phantom.

“No need to be mysterious, gentlemen.” A portly professor hobbled over, followed by the vice-president. Tim barely managed to put aside his swirling thoughts aside to smile and shake the professor’s hand. “Mr. Drake, these two are trying to create trans-dimensional communications. Ambitious, for certain. And even if unsuccessful, I’ve been more than impressed with their work so far.”

Tim quirked an eyebrow at the students, who were both ducking their heads but preening under the attention. Impressive didn’t begin to cover these two students if they managed to accomplish their project. Fenton and Foley were undergraduate freshman working on a problem that stumped the geniuses at the top of their field.

“Interested in staying in Gotham? Wayne Enterprises could use some innovative pioneers like you,” Tim addressed them. And all the better for them to be kept an eye on. Red-string connections were being made on the conspiracy board in Tim’s mind. And while Phantom was very clearly a ghost, something in Tim wanted to superimpose the ghost over Danny Fenton. Could they be related? The Fentons didn’t mention anything about a third, deceased sibling. A cousin, maybe?

Tucker seemed to have stars in his eyes. “Really?! I mean, yes! Yes, we wouldn’t mind at all.”

Danny seemed a tad more reluctant, looking over Tim as if trying to read him. He chewed on his lip debating something to say. Tim helped him out. “Is that a prototype you’re working on?” Tim nodded to the disc in Danny’s palm.

Danny shook his head. Tim wished he could still feel emotions, but as it stood now, the whisper of emotions he could still read was just about as helpful as his innate skills for reading others. He thought he detected a familiar strain of amusement though. His gut told him he was looking at Phantom. But it seemed too crazy to consider. Phantom was a teenager. And dead.

Tucker frowned. “Sorry, sir – Tim. I swear Danny is usually more talkative than this. But that’s more of a personal project. Right now, we’re still in the coding phase which is firmly my area of expertise,” Tuck replied with pride.

Tim had been trained to school his features from a young age, so he didn’t let his friendly smile slip away to something more pensive, but internally he was trying to figure out Danny Fenton who was starting at him as if searching for something. This was not the shy recalcitrance of a super fan. Tim was being mentally dissected and observed, and it felt disconcerting being on the other end such a look. Is this how people always felt around him?

“What kind of personal project?” Tim asked, wanting to gather intel more than ever. He wanted to confirm if his instinct was right or if this were a very eerie coincidence.

Finally, Danny spoke, albeit more carefully and less teasingly than before, “A Specter Deflector. It’s for stopping ghost possession.” Then he smirked. And Tim had a feeling however he reacted was some kind of test. The vice president’s breath hitched, clearly planning on steering Tim out of this conversation at the earliest opportunity. The Professor just sighed as if this were a normal irritation from one Danny Fenton.

Tim had come here exactly to find more information on this, but that was Red Robin. Tim Drake-Wayne was just a CEO of an international conglomerate. Once again, he mentally cursed Tam. He chuckled instead. “Ghosts? Are you serious?”

“They’re closer than you think.” And the smirk was back. Fenton’s eyes bored into Tim’s as if cataloging every micro reaction.

Tim managed to keep his CEO smile up. “In a world of aliens and gods, I suppose it’s not the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard.”

Danny shrugged and seemed to relax some as he returned to fiddling with the machine. “You can believe me or don’t. Like Tuck said, it’s a personal project.”

Tucker whined with exasperation. “Ignore Danny. It’s not even one of our inventions, just something his parents came up with.” He shoved his lab partner warningly.

“Hey!” Danny protested.

 “Mr. Drake, there are many other laboratories to inspect and I am sure you are far too busy to spend all day here for this visit. May I suggest we move on?” The vice president interjected.

Tim didn’t want to leave. He wanted to keep talking to Fenton and matching his stare. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to look into Foley. He really should have. Foley had proven to be the more talkative of the two, but instead he latched onto Fenton’s cryptic aura like Selina with a cat artifact. Unfortunately, Tim also couldn’t think of an excuse to stay.

Of course, with the impeccable timing of all Gotham rouges, that was when the alarms sounded.

The staff and students startled. Many – those used to Gotham and all its alerts – were pulling out phones to check what kind of attack. Tim was one of them, heart clenching when he saw the alert was for Scarecrow. Hadn’t they just put this asshole away? What was he already doing out of Arkham? Something to do with the new strain of fear gas they’d been investigating?

“Everyone remain calm. Gas masks on. See me if you don’t have one,” The professor announced.

Tim barely managed to get his “Wayne prototype rebreather” on. (In other words, Bat-tech he had scratched the Bat symbol off to use as a civilian.)

“Remember, the safe rooms are located on the first floor. Section Alpha.” The vice president began guiding the class out of the room. The bootlicker who had toured Tim around the campus had all but vanished, as the born and bred Gothamite shone through.

Foley was fixing a mask around his own face, tugging at Fenton. “Come on, man, you know the drill.”

There was a brief whine from Fenton. Tim would have dismissed it as something from the machinery in the room if he didn’t recognize it as the sound of ghost speak from Phantom’s core. Evidence was definitely piling in favor of Tim’s theory. The question then remained was how a ghost managed to pass off as a living person. Possession?

“Does he have a mask?” Tim approached Fenton and Foley.

“No, he doesn’t,” Foley hissed, already wearing his own mask. It was not a brand that Tim recognized.

“Tuck, please,” Fenton whined.

Foley sighed. “You know the drill. Batman will take care of it.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Tim inquired.

“Nothing! He’s…he’s nervous about Gotham rouges. That’s all.”

Tim handed over a spare rebreather. “Take it.”

“Don’t need it,” Fenton replied.

“Danny!” Foley hissed. He all but strangled Danny into putting it on.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne, Foley, Fenton, this way!” the professor gestured. They were the last ones in the lab.

That was when the far wall exploded. Tim tackled Fenton and Foley out of instinct, to protect the civilians. Though he strongly suspected Fenton didn’t fall into that category very neatly anymore.

When Tim looked up, the classroom was decimated. Plaster was still falling from the ceiling and the rebreathers were the only thing keeping their lungs from being filled with detritus. One of the fireproof lab tables had fallen over and shielded them from the worst of the blast. Since it was a lab, the fires didn’t spread fast, the furniture designed to withstand extreme heat. There was no sign of their professor. But then again, it was hard to see much of anything with the lights now out.

“Tucker, I have to do something!” Danny hissed. “This is my school!”

“This isn’t Amity Park, Danny!” Tucker hissed back. His gaze flickered to Tim who had just rolled off them and was cataloguing injuries.

“Oh, he already figured it out,” Danny waved a hand flippantly towards Tim.

“He what?! Danny, how does Tim Drake-Wayne know? Wait, is that why he’s here?!”

Tim’s gut swooped as Danny all but confirmed his outlandish gut theory. How was a teenage ghost also a living, breathing college student? And if so, how did he know that Tim figured him out? He thought Phantom admitted the other night to not knowing his civilian identity. Was that a lie? It hadn’t felt like one from Phantom’s emotions. Or had he exposed himself by coming here today? Unfortunately, these were all questions he’d have to find answers for later. Scarecrow was no joke, and Tim would have to be fully focused to deal with him. Especially as a civilian. He was so mad at Tam. If he’d just been able to infiltrate the university undercover, he’d already have been able to hide away and change into his Red Robin persona. For now, Tim was committed to playing the defenseless CEO, even if Fenton really was Phantom.

From the exploded wall, a trio of Scarecrow goons entered the wreckage of the classroom. Tim pulled Fenton and Foley down so the overturned desk still mostly intact could hide them.

“Aw, fuck, it’s just another physics lab!” One goon spat.

“Told ya’ the chem labs were in the other wing,” another replied.

“I definitely remember ‘em bein’ to the left from the south entrance.”

“You were lookin’ at the map upside down then!”

“Enough!” the third goon interrupted both. “We’re wasting time. Only twenty minutes before the boss blows this place sky high.”

Danny growled deep in the back of his throat. Hopefully low enough that none of the goons heard.

Tim, meanwhile, had slipped in his emergency comm so he could listen in on Oracle’s frequency. He also called Oracle’s line with his phone and put it on speaker so the rest of the Bats could overhear the conversation between the goons. He had no idea who’d be available though. Steph would be closest as she was currently going to med school on Gotham U’s campus, but there was no way she’d be able to evacuate civilians and potentially take on Scarecrow alone. Damian and Duke were still in school, Bruce was covering for Tim at WE, and Dick was at his gym in Bludhaven. None of them would be able to get here in time. Maybe Black Bat, but if Cass was in Bristol, there was no way she would make it either.

Whether Fenton suspected Tim was Red Robin or not, there was no way he could confirm it. Time to lose Fenton and Foley. And nothing guaranteed a party split quite like a hostage situation.

“I’ll distract them, and you use the opportunity to escape,” Tim hissed to the students.

Fenton’s hand grabbed Tim’s wrist faster than he could move. “You will not. I’ll distract them.”

Tim frowned. Absolutely not. He had no idea what Phantom’s full capabilities or fighting style were. He was an unknown variable.

“I’m a Wayne, they won’t kill me. They’ll use me for leverage.”

“I did not just save your life last week for you to throw it away, moron,” Danny hissed.

“When did you save Tim Drake-Wayne?! Wait…Danny, you’re not saying…” Tucker began, the pieces slotting together.

Of course, this was when the goons noticed them.

“Voices over here!” a goon shouted, storming towards the table.

If he were alone, Tim might be able to throw a smoke bomb or divert attention to another side of the room for an escape. But there was no way he was going to abandon Fenton and Foley. Even if one was a ghost king and another a slippery hacker. Tim hoped none of the Bats ever heard about this, because he would never live it down that he got caught by Scarecrow goons so easily. Though, considering his phone was still connected with Oracle, there was a good chance she already knew.

The table was pulled away, and all three of the twenty-year-olds flinched when a head covered by a burlap sack peered down at them.

“Wrong place, wrong time, boys,” the goon sneered. He lifted the muzzle of his gun. “Now, which of you wants to die first?”

Danny tensed beside Tim. This was very much not ideal.

“Wait, you idiot!” The third good from earlier, pulled his buddy away. “That’s a Wayne!”

“There’s a Wayne in college?” the second goon asked from across the room.

“Who cares?! We can use him!” The third goon replied. “Getaway insurance.”

Tim was so glad a mask was covering his mouth so he didn’t have to fake a smile. “Let the other two go and I’ll go with you willingly,” he interjected.

Goon number one cocked his gun. “Nice try. But I was part of your little brother’s ransom last month. You Waynes are like snakes!”

“You were one of the dunderheads who kidnapped Damian? Surprised you’re still alive.” Not really. Damian took the no-killing rule a lot more seriously these days. He was still a terrifying demon teen though. Death probably would have been a mercy.

“Enough! We’re running out of time,” Goon three interjected. “Take the Wayne, shoot the others.”

“Yeaaaah, I don’t think so.” Danny stood and stretched. “See, I just put a lot of effort into putting Mister Wayne over here back together, and I’m not about to have you lot mess him up again.” Danny grinned, and a single fang poked over his lip.

Scarecrow goons didn’t play around. Tim always suspected that much exposure to fear toxin on a regular basis made them more anxious than the average person. Paranoia included. The first goon shot a bullet straight to Danny’s chest. Tucker Foley yelped from where he was still crouched on the floor. The bullet passed straight through Phantom.

Tim had to blink, his brain not quite processing what his eyes were seeing. Despite the point-blank range, Fenton’s skin was unmarred. Not even a hole in his t-shirt. Logically, it didn’t make sense, even though Tim was 75-percent sure Fenton was Phantom. Though, that probability just jumped to 98-percent with the display.

Danny rested a hand each on Foley and Tim’s shoulders. “I will only tell you this once: leave,” Danny commanded with the same cold authority Phantom had displayed to Constantine in the cave. His eyes were now a solid, glowing green.

The goons – while properly terrified – were not affected in the same way Danny could command the dead.

“This is bullshit, Sly. I didn’t sign up for this,” the second goon stepped backwards, falling backwards into some rumble.

The first goon had the opposite response. He emptied the chamber of his gun, bullets flying through Phantom. A stray one should have caught Tim too. He gasped with surprise when instead the bullet flew through his abdomen with the same lack of impact as the bullets struck Fenton. Somehow, he was keeping all three of them intangible.

The goon stared in horror as the gun – fully unloaded – clicked uselessly. “Demon,” he hissed.

“Hm, not quite.” Danny grinned, mouth far too wide and toothy to be fully human. “Worse.”

And then, because Tim’s life was not weird enough, Fenton spoke the cheesiest of catchphrases, “Going ghost!” before two rings of white light separated from Fenton’s midriff. As they passed over him, Fenton’s colors were inverted and his features changed. Phantom now floated where Fenton once stood. Or, it was probably Phantom. He looked different from all the times Tim had seen him before. Still mostly human. But his eyes remained solid green, and there were translucent blue horns spiraling off his head. His outfit was no longer a hazmat suit, but something else. And his pants were now white and flowy. And he definitely wasn’t a teenager any longer. He was broad and tall, and somehow just as attractive in this updated ghost form as he looked as a human.

“Want to run now?” Phantom asked the goons.

Finally, the goons made the smart choice. They bolted. The first goon pushed his associates out of the way, hurdling over wreckage back the way they had come. The other two goons were quick to follow, shouting obscenities after their companion.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Phantom remarked.

“Are you kidding me, Danny?! They shot at us! With guns!” Foley screamed. “They saw you change!”

“Tuck, they would have taken Tim.”

“You’re supposed to lay low, you idiot! You’re in a matured form! The GIW will be swarming this place in a few hours if not sooner! They were a bunch of useless thugs! You did not need to transform for them.”

“He’s right. I had it handled,” Tim remarked. He walked across the room to inspect where the bullets had hit the opposite wall. They weren’t embedded, so most likely they had ricocheted. Tim moved around the room, searching for the engineering professor, but found no sign of him. He had been near the door when the explosion hit. He’d probably fled as soon as he was able. Not that Tim could blame him. He would not have expected civilians to survive had they been as close to the epicenter of the explosion as they were. Especially unharmed. Phantom likely had something to do with it.

“You had it handled,” Tucker echoed, confused. His eyebrows shot to his hairline as he realized what Tim meant. “Oh shit, that’s right! You’re him! Red Robin!”

“Keep your voice down!” Tim snapped. “Even if I am, you don’t know who’s listening.” He shucked off his blazer and began to undo his tie.

Tucker groaned, mostly ignoring Tim. “Ancients, that means you aren’t here recruiting at all. You’re info gathering.”

“Stalking,” Danny corrected. He shifted back to his more human-looking form, the nature of which Tim would figure out later. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “You did come to see us, right? Not a weird coincidence you show up in our joint lab after I caught you internet stalking me on the Bat Computer?”

Tucker whimpered. “Tim Drake-Wayne’s been stalking me. Tim Drake-Wayne has been trying to hack my firewalls. I can’t tell if this is the best day ever or if I need to find a new identity.”

“Could be both?” Danny joked.

Tim mostly tuned out to the conversation. He searched the rubble for a black hoodie he had definitely spotted on a chair somewhere around here that one of the students left…aha! Tim brushed away some dust and bricks to uncover a ratty hoodie underneath. It was filthy and smelled like old pizza, but it would suit his purposes fine.

“Uh, what are you doing Mister Drake-Wayne?” Tucker asked.

Tim slipped on the hoodie. From his blazer pocket, he removed his phone, backup emergency locator disguised as a pen and wallet. He slipped the items in the hoodie pocket and discarded the blazer. Unfortunate, as he’d been fond of this suit. “From this point on call me R if you want to get my attention. We have to move.”

“R? Why?”

Tim sent Foley a withering look.

Phantom elbowed his friend. “Dude. Put the pieces together.”

“Ohhhh. Right.”

Tim slipped the earpiece in his ear. “Red Robin reporting in.”

“Coming in clear, Red Robin,” Alfred replied over comms. Right, it was daytime, so Oracle was likely at the library, not the clocktower.

“I’m with Fenton and Foley at the Engineering building at Gotham University. Confirmed Scarecrow goons. Under fifteen minutes until building is set to detonate completely.”

“Understood. Spoiler is already at the scene. Black Bat is on her way, but unlikely to be there before the estimated time of detonation.”

Tim suppressed a sigh. “Figured as much. Will proceed to evacuate civilians.”

“Roger that, Red,” Spoiler grunted over the comms. Her voice was labored, likely mid-combat.

“Ancients, this is so cool! What can we do to help?” Foley asked. He had slipped some kind of wrist weapon over his hand.

“You two can evacuate. I’ll debrief you later,” Tim replied.

Danny stepped forward. “No way. We can help.”

“I don’t know your capabilities or your limitations. You’ll likely hinder me more than help.”

“You’re on evac duty, right?” Danny asked. “Do you know where all the emergency rendezvous points are for this building? Because we do.”

“Yeah! And Phantom has all Rogue-class stats set to max with his powers: invisibility, intangibility, super speed, you name it. We can help!”

Tim groaned. “No! Even if Phantom is a ghost, you don’t seem to be. I’m not putting a civilian in danger.”

Foley scoffed. “Hardly a normal civilian. I’ve been fighting ghosts since I was fourteen.”

“We’re going to help people with or without you, Birdie. Might as well work together.”

Tim growled. He was going to be in such deep shit for this. “Agent A, status?”

“Scarecrow goons are beginning to evacuate. I suspect that our time is dwindling rapidly.”

“Fine!” Tim spat. “Fine. Okay. We probably have less than ten minutes until this building and everyone in it is toast. Not enough time to hit all the rendezvous spots. Foley, how good are you at working with new software?”

“Uh…decent?”

“He’s brilliant. What do you need him to do?” Fenton answered.

Tim opened an app on his phone connecting him to the Bat databases. Specifically, the folder with the blueprints of most of Gotham, to be cross-referenced with previous Scarecrow plots. He tossed it to Foley, who barely managed to catch it. Athletic, he was not. “Run an algorithm to find the most probable place Crane – Scarecrow – would have placed explosives. You and I will find them and disarm them. Knowing Crane, he likely has three different sites. He’s fond of overkill. Fenton, you have the speed to go everywhere. Can you evacuate the building?”

Fenton grinned. “No sweat.” There was a faint green shimmer, and then six duplicate Danny Fentons were standing in the room. All of them identically grinning.

Tim blinked with surprise, mentally adding duplication to Phantom’s powerset. “Helpful.”

“So, evac duty?” All six Dannys asked at once.

Red Robin just nodded, still slightly baffled.

The duplicates all headed for the next exit from the blown-out wall. One Danny saluted as he left. “Don’t die, Birdie!”

“Oh that’s nice! What am I, chopped liver?!” Foley shouted after his friend.

“Come on, Foley. We don’t have time to waste.”

“Just call me Tuck. And I based off your program – brilliant algorithm by the way – we should be looking for four locations, not just three.”

“Then we don’t have time to waste. Closest?”

“Likely in the east corridor by the physics labs. There’s a supply closet around there rarely used.”

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

For Tucker Foley, it was like a dream come true, running alongside not one, but two of his heroes. To think Red Robin and Timothy Drake-Wayne were the same person was a possibility only the imagination of Wes Weston could have up with. In fact, hadn’t he had a theory Bruce Wayne was Batman?...Nah, that was still too outlandish. Last week Brucie Wayne was on a tabloid cover for falling into a champagne fountain. No way he was the Dark Knight of Gotham.

Of course, if they didn’t make it out of this alive, the dream was probably going to turn into a nightmare. Maybe it already was. But Tuck’s adrenaline was running high and he was firmly ignoring the fact he’d been shot at by real guns and nearly died via explosion to freak out over later.

“This one!” Tuck stopped in front of a closet. “This one has a bomb.”

Red Robin skidded to a stop beside Foley. “You sure?”

“Dude, it’s your program.”

“Probably right then.” Red Robin proceeded to step back and then took a running jump at the door to kick it open.

Tuck squealed inwardly. Red Robin was such a badass. Tuck didn’t consider himself bisexual like Danny, but if he was…

“It’s not here,” Red Robin growled.

“Wait, what’s that sound?” Tucker asked, his liminality giving him the slightest edge over the vigilante.

Red Robin cocked his head. “Huh. Ceiling maybe? Seems to me like someone’s been taking notes from us.”

Red Robin climbed the shelf full of dusty supplies expertly, pushing up one of the ceiling tiles. “Light,” Red Robin prompted, holding a handout.

Tuck was about to say something stupid about how he didn’t have a flashlight, but then remembered the phone in his pocket. He turned on the flashlight setting and handed it to Red Robin.

“Ugh, green wire. So predictable. Crane might be a genius chemist, but he needs to find a new bomb guy. This is just sad.”

“Uh, maybe let’s not critique the villain’s subpar bomb building skills considering we still have three others to disable.”

“It’s insulting is all I’m saying.” Red Robin hopped down from shelf. “Red Robin checking in. Bomb one down, three to go.”

Red Robin cocked his head minutely as he ran out the door, Foley on his heels.

“Spoiler says that the goons are mostly taken care of. Stragglers still coming out, but police are on the scene now to take care of them. No sign of Scarecrow. Black Bat still too far out to be helpful. Alfred guesses five minutes left for the bombs. Where can I send Spoiler?”

“Send her to the southwest corner of the building. Ground floor. There should be a corner classroom where another bomb is located.” Tuck sucked in a breath. “Even with all of us working, we won’t have time for the last one. Turn left.”

The two of them made a sharp left down another corridor. “At this point, we’re just minimizing damage.”

“Danny,” Tucker said, idea forming. “Most he can make is eight duplicates. But so far he only has five. I can give him a location. If all the bombs are as easy to disable, should be no problem for him.”

Red Robin arched an eyebrow. “Good to know. Give him a call.”

Tucker and Tim switched phones quickly. Tim leading them down another hallway, while Tucker’s nervous fingers called for Danny.

“Kinda busy, Tuck,” Danny greeted, followed by grunting from someone else on the other end.

“Are you fighting?! What happened to evacuation?”

“Burlap sack freaks cornered one of the groups. Taking them down the incognito way.”

“Thank Ancients for that. We’re already going to have to do enough damage control as it is.” Tuck was not pleased with his best friend over the kingly display back in the lab. GIW was likely already on their way. Danny’s preferred form always lit up their sensors like a flare. And while Danny was more likely to bring out his ghostly form after spending time in the Realms, Danny didn’t usually slip like that. Unless one of his Fraid was in danger. And sure Tucker had been danger but not as much as Tim… Oh, Danny, seriously?! Tucker thought to himself. Of all people to have an inconvenient crush on. He’d have to run some tests to make sure this wasn’t a side effect of core-powered healing.

“Are you seriously just calling to lecture me?!” Danny’s voice interjected Tucker’s mini freakout.

“No, I…well, we need you to make another duplicate. Too many bombs, not enough time.”

“Hold on.” There was the crash of something very large falling into something wooden. Shortly followed by a scream of pain that thankfully sounded nothing like Danny. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m sending you to the North side. Algorithm updated after tracking the damage from the goons. We suspect it is in the fake bell tower. Wait, why would it be high up? He’d do more damage putting it on a lower floor.”

Tim stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway. Tuck nearly ran into his back. “I…I don’t know. That’s weird.”

“Could it be wrong?”

Tim shook his head. “Maybe. Unlikely though. Can you check it out just in case, Phantom?”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Cut the red wire, then the green. If it starts beeping, get the hell out of dodge.”

“No problem!” Danny chirped. There was the sound of something heavy slamming into him, and then the call disconnected.

“Welp, that was likely another phone sacrificed in the line of duty of Phantom’s heroics,” Tucker remarked.

Red Robin pulled Tucker down the hallway. “I can see it now. You are far too quippy in the heat of the moment to be a regular civilian.”

“Helped Phantom all the time. With ghosts and ghost hunters alike,” Tuck replied.

Red Robin titled his head, so he could just look at Tucker past the hood. “So, you know about the GIW too.”

“Of course. They’re like my main nemesis. Well, at least since Technus and I started getting along.”

“Who?”

Tuck shook his head. “Unimportant.” He had no idea how much Phantom wanted the vigilantes of Gotham knowing. Especially since anything they learned would likely end up in the hands of the Justice League. As most Amity Parkers would say, fuck those guys. (Except Cyborg. Tuck could respect a man who was half machine. And of course, Oracle and Red Robin held a special place in his heart as ass-kicking hackers.)

Tucker and Red Robin made into the central-most location. Instead of the ceiling, Red Robin found the bomb located behind a gas line. Tucker shuddered at the damage that alone would have caused. Likely that not just the Engineering building would have been affected. Then again, he didn’t really know how gas lines worked. But it seemed bad.

Just like the first, this bomb was neutralized without a hitch.

The two of them leaned against the wall with relief. Tuck felt a bit like dying from the stress of the situation and the rabbiting of his heart rate.

“Spoiler just checked in. Her bomb is neutralized as well. Think Phantom did it?”

Tucker shrugged. He honestly wouldn’t know until something blew up or Danny saw fit to inform them. Considering how many different duplicates he was focusing on right now, they likely wouldn’t get a proper update until after the evacuation was complete.

“We should leave just in case,” Red Robin suggested, holding out a hand to pull Tucker back to his feet.

Of course, that was when Tucker’s phone went off. He was happy to note it was Danny, and his best friend would therefore not require another phone.

“Danny? All good?” Tucker replied.

“No! No very much not good. There are no red or green wires. What the fuck am I looking at?!”

Tim and Tucker exchanged a terrified glance.

Realization must have struck Tim as he gaped. His entire face paled, and then he let out a very emphatic “fuck!” and kicked the wall.

“What was that? Why is Red Robin cursing?”

“Uhhh, hold a sec. Mind sharing with the class, R?”

“I forgot. I cannot believe I forgot that Scarecrow is such psychotic asshole!” Red Robin kicked the wall again.

“R! Focus! What’s wrong?!” Tucker shouted. Fear was pounding through his system.

“Okay, okay. This is fine. We can fix this. Phantom, get out of there. Make sure masks are distributed to the surrounding crowd. Gotham U is about to get the fright of all frights. That’s a fear gas distributor. Likely set to go off the same time as the explosions for maximum damage.”

“Yeah, it’s starting to leak green gas.”

“Get out of there now!” Tim shouted.

“I’m still wearing your stupid mask, Birdie. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t need to breathe.”

“That doesn’t stop it from seeping into your pores from extended exposure!” Red Robin exclaimed.

“What’s it going to do?” Tuck asked quietly, voice quivering though he wish it wasn’t. He didn’t even need to ask really. He had seen the reports of a Scarecrow attack. It wasn’t pretty. Masks were only effective so long. In fact, as far Tucker was concerned, it was in his top five worst ways to go. He didn’t want to think about what the fear gas would force him to confront. The worst part was from the reports he’d read the more tolerant of fear, the longer it would go on. And Tuck had a whole adolescence to become well acquainted with his fears.

“Nothing good,” Red Robin replied ambiguously. Probably for the best.

“Yeah, not happening. Not today. Tuck, get ready for Contingency Dan,” Danny announced.

Tucker sucked in a sharp breath. They had named their plans for worst case scenarios off of the various rogues Danny fought over the years. Many of who had since become allies. Dan was not one of the now allied ones. (Although he was currently performing a thousand years of community service in another dimension. They were all hoping the evil alternate self would have calmed down by the end of it.) Contingency Dan was one of Tucker’s least favorite plans. It was for in case Danny lost control; his team was supposed to neutralize him and keep him out of GIW or Fenton hands.

“What does that mean?” Red Robin demanded.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out,” Tuck muttered. “I’ll be ready, Danny. Please…be careful.”

“See you on the other side, Tuck.” And with that, Danny hung up again.

“What is contingency Dan?” Red Robin repeated.

“A worst-case scenario.” Tucker powered his wrist ray to the maximum setting. It would end most ghosts, which was why he never set it that high except for this contingency. For Phantom, it would only probably knock him unconscious. They’d never tested it, but he also knew Phantom had survived worse from Fenton and GIW tech.

“And that? What does it do?”

“It destabilizes ecto-entities,” Tucker replied simply. “Phantom basically told me if he gets infected to knock him out.” And then disappear, Tucker added mentally. Ancients, he was not looking forward to starting over in a new city.

Admittedly, Red Robin might be right and Danny was about to be severely poisoned, but he liked to think as a half-dead being, he should get some perks, like not having to deal with the consequences of handling dangerous mind-altering chemicals. Especially since he’d already discovered he couldn’t get drunk while in Phantom form. Then again, Danny’s luck was rarely that good.

Even though he knew it would set off the GIW sensors like crazy – transforming twice in a short period of time in one place – Danny did not want to deal with fear gas in his half-alive state. This was going to be a nightmare to do damage control after. He didn’t want to think about it, but it might even mean leaving Gotham entirely. He really wasn’t looking forward to moving.

Danny pocketed his phone and let his ghost form wash over him. He immediately turned invisible, and then snatched up the fog machine from hell into his arms. He contemplated sky-rocketing to the exosphere to let the gas disperse in space. But then again, there were no guarantees it wouldn’t somehow infect someone later.

“Oh Ancients, Danny, you’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself. He was the freaking king of the Infinite Realms. He could just toss this somewhere uninhabited and be done with it. Danny moved the machine to one arm and then used his other hand to rip a portal between realities. On the other side was a black hole recently collapsed from a supernova. He’d remembered the location from watching the supernova’s collapse during a break from one of Clockwork’s lessons.

Without further ado, Danny tossed the machine into the portal and watched with satisfaction as the machine began to warp and stretch, the matter spaghettifying as it fell into the black hole’s orbit. Upon closing the portal, Danny realized he had another problem: some of the fear gas had already escaped. Not significant enough to cause a major crisis, but it was still in the atmosphere. He pulled a Fenton thermos out of his chest. Theoretically, it could be modified to suck up the fumes, but it would take time for him to fix it properly. Time he didn’t have. Instead, Danny had a much worse idea.

All Fenton weapons were powered by ectoplasm. And Danny was not about to use his own ecto, supercharged from his role as king, to enact what was definitely going to earn him several lectures later. But that was a future Danny problem. Using a screwdriver – also kept in his chest for emergencies – Danny unscrewed the base, and pulled out the ecto battery kept within. Meanwhile, his core trilled, summoning his subjects lingering on Gotham, but not strong enough to be compulsory. Oh Ancients, Lady Gotham... Nevermind the lectures from Fraid and Observants, the city spirit was definitely going to try and crush Danny’s core for this; all the rapport he’d earned after saving Red Robin wasted.

Several shades answered Danny’s call, but most of them didn’t have the energy he needed. They couldn’t be just any old shade. They had to have enough potential to become more. Not only that, but the obsession had to be compatible for what he needed done; someone to combat the fear gas from Scarecrow.

Phantom dismissed all, but one. A particularly strange-shaped shade, spindly in form. It’s core was murky and dark – clearly a shadow core, reminiscent of Fright Knight. Within, Danny could feel the hunger of vengeance, a fury that superseded all fear to steal back whatever had been stolen from them in life. An obsession to overcome all terror. It would certainly do what Danny intended, but he shuddered to think what he might be releasing upon Gotham should the city’s fear ever abate.

Danny’s core spoke with the sharpness of sleet and glint of icicles. His words were calm, but still held command over the shade. “I will empower you with this gift. But in return, you shall consume the poison that infests the city.”

The shade was quick to agree. Unsurprising. Most shades dreamed of a chance to walk into the Infinite Realms and become more than the limits of their kind.

Danny pushed ectoplasmic energy originally from the thermos’ battery towards the shade. “I dub thee, Fear Eater.”

Immediately, the shade began to change and flicker into more detailed being. It must have been many years since they were alive, because the creature didn’t look much like a person anymore. Fear Eater had a smoky trail instead of legs, and their abdomen was long and hawkish. Four arms jutted out of the torso, long and feathery like a harpy’s wings. They were tipped with gold-clawed hands. The feathers transitioned up the neck to the face from gold streaked into feathers black as pitch. Two golden eyes shone brightly amidst the black. Below, a beak-like snout jutted out. When open, it the ghost seemed to suck all the terror Danny was feeling away, leaving him fizzing with manic energy. The ghost had taken their new moniker literally. And with Danny’s fear abated, he looked upon the newly powered up ghost with wonder. It never ceased to amaze him what untapped potential ectoplasm could have.

Go forth, Danny commanded.

Fear Eater screeched, like the starting cry of a hunt. And then they darted from the tower. Danny watched invisibly from above as the ghost swooped over the crowd, seemingly at random. But Danny knew it to be otherwise. Those without the fear gas masks, already beginning to show the signs of the gas were targeted first. Fear Eater swooped overhead, and the beginning shakes of the gas faded. Their hands steadied. They’d likely feel jittery and anxious the rest of a while after, but the heart-stopping fear generated by Scarecrow’s chemicals would remain ineffective. And as long as the air remained poisoned enough to infect those below, Fear Eater would continue to feast. Danny’s plan had worked. He had created a ghost that would eat fear. And as long as Gotham remained as it was, it was unlikely the ghost would go hungry. He’d still have to keep careful watch to ensure the new ghost didn’t upset the balance of Gotham too much.

Danny flew down invisibly into the crowd and merged with his last duplicate, still in his half-alive form. The others had all come to him after helping evacuate the building. He mingled amongst his classmates, feigning his own panic and ignorance of events. He provided only barebone explanations of how he had overheard a goon talking about the building exploding and raced to tell those in hiding.  With a sigh of relief, he even spotted his professor being treated for some abrasions and first-degree burns, but very much alive and conscious. Thank Ancients he had been there to shield Tim and Tucker from the worst of the explosion, or they’d likely look a whole lot worse.  

In the meantime, Danny texted Tucker, “All clear. Fear gas neutralized.”

But as he waited, Danny’s ears pricked up the sound of vehicles screeching to a stop nearby. He peered over the crowd, and what he saw made his abnormally slow heart skip a beat. Because three white vans came to a screeching halt in the grass outside the Engineering Complex. Danny ducked his head back into the crowd.

He texted Tuck again, GIW alert! Three vans. South entrance.

Stay there, lay low. Eta 2 min, Tuck texted back.

Danny had to force his core not to whine. Overhead, Fear Eater swooped by, sucking away some of Danny’s fear. He had to fight to keep a level head about him, as his fear of the government agents evaporated. His core hummed, shoving Fear Eater away before he could zap away all Danny’s fear. The last thing he needed to do was cause a public disturbance with the GIW because he was stunningly lacking in any kind of caution. This was why he was going to get so many lectures. Life without fear was usually tragically short. Half-lives included.

Men and women in dark sunglasses and white suits emerged from the van, horrendously conspicuous amongst the grime and dark of Gotham. Another reason this city was a good choice when Danny had been deciding where to go for college: the GIW and the city’s aesthetics clashed horribly.

“Two ghosts detected,” the ever-recognizable Operative O reported in, close enough for Danny to overhear. Asshole.

It seemed an entire van went into the building itself, the police shouting protests after them. Likely to investigate Danny’s lingering ecto-signature. Of course, that meant once they found it, they could track it. Not good.

Danny felt fear bubbling in his heart again. Fear Eater circled back towards him, as the only one in the crowd who truly knew what the Guys In White were there for. Everyone else just felt confused and annoyed by their presence mostly. As Fear Eater passed overhead, Danny risked commanding the ghost, his core sounding like ice cracking as it warned, “flee. Danger here.”

Fear Eater squawked in annoyance. With his increased ectoplasmic emissions, unfortunately Fear Easter was now strong enough for the GIW sensors to pick him up even if he still wasn’t on the visible spectrum. Green blasts shot over the crowd, eliciting screams and a new surge of fear. Fear Eater writhed above, conflicted between obsession and royal command. But thankfully Danny’s command and the sensibility of retreat won out. Fear Eater disappeared into the city. Unfortunately leaving the GIW agents with only Danny’s signature to pick up. Fuck.

“Fenton.” Danny felt a hand on his shoulder and spun to attack. But meeting Tim’s eyes underneath the hood instantly allowed him to relax.

“Birdie, you’re alright.” Danny smiled.

“Yeah. But Tuck tells me you might not be. Need a getaway car?”

“Tuck’s here? Where?”

“He’s meeting us at another location.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. That was definitely not their standard operating procedure for a GIW confrontation. “He agreed?”

“Yes. He’s already gone.”

“Alright, Birdie. So where’s your car?”

Tim smirked, and then tilted his head across the quad. “Think you can get us over there invisible?

“Yes? But the assholes in white will still be able to pick up my signature. They’re already narrowing it down. We leave the crowd; we’re going to have targets on our backs in seconds.”

“Then be prepared to run.”

And then, Danny heard it. It was subtle at first, but then as a black blur careened around the corner a block down the street, it was a thrumming roar. Speeding right towards them: the famous Batmobile.

“You have got to be kidding.”

“What did I say?” Tim’s grin was manic.

Danny clasped Tim’s hand in his. The flush that bloomed across the vigilante’s face did not go unnoticed by Danny. Plenty of time to unpack that later though. For now, he smirked as he faded them both to invisibility. “Lead on, Birdie.”  

Then, an invisible Tim was pulling Danny along, racing across the grass towards the Batmobile that spun into a stop in the quad. Everyone gawked, phones raised to get a picture of the infamous Batman, rarely seen during the daylight hours, and never so publicly. Instead, the passenger door opened. Tim pulled both of them inside and shut the door.

Danny’s heart was fluttering with anxiousness, because they were in the Batman’s car. The Batman was their getaway driver. There was no way he could turn visible now. Batman –

“In?” A soft, but firm, feminine voice asked from the front seat.

“Black Bat, Floor it,” Tim ordered as they both rippled back to the visible spectrum.

Danny leaned up front to get a closer look at who was driving them. A lithe vigilante in a mostly black suit with the occasional yellow accent. Her mouth was covered in a black mask, and she wore a black domino over her eyes. Her raven black hair was styled in a bob. When Danny poked his head through the seats, she pulled the cowl from her mouth down and smiled. He realized he recognized her from his last visit to the Batcave. She had been the one able to hide her presence even from him. Impressive.

“Hi! I’m Danny!” He greeted.

The girl hummed in delighted acknowledgement, then her feet slammed on the gas. The Batmobile’s tires squealed and Danny was flung back into his seat as the car accelerated. Black Bat swerved across the campus grass, then over a curb back into the road.

Danny looked back at the absolute mess the Batmobile had made of the Engineering Quad’s lawn. “Gotham U is going to hate Batman for this.”

“I’ll make a donation,” Tim replied idly.

“Brother alright?” Black Bat asked from the front.

Danny swiveled on Tim. “Brother?”

“Fine, Black Bat. Nothing I can’t treat at a safehouse. Speaking of, take us to Mike One Alpha.”

“Should go to cave.”

“No way. Danny’s a civilian. B’s already going to kill us for stealing the Batmobile.”

“He will understand.”

Tim sighed and pinched his nose. “He most certainly will not. Though you’ll be fine. You can do no wrong in B’s eyes.”

“Dad will forgive,” Cass reassured Tim.

“Wait, hold up, you all stole the Batmobile? Am I implicated in this crime?” Danny joked.

Tim rolled his head to stare at Danny. “Probably.”

However, neither Black Bat nor Tim seemed to radiate any significant fear or concern, just amusement. Danny assured himself that the two vigilantes were just messing with him.

He turned to Danny. “None of this leaves this car, by the way. Secret identities and all.”

“So you two really are siblings?” Danny asked.

“Yep!” Black Bat chirped from the front seat. She swerved around an oncoming police car and into a particularly narrow alley. She was full of adrenaline from the car chase, making her emotions of love and fondness for her brother even more potent.

Danny thought about what little he knew of Tim Drake-Wayne from the news and Tucker’s gushing about the tech-savvy CEO. “Cassandra Wayne?” He guessed.

“Call me Cass!”

“No. No, do not call her Cass. It’s called a secret identity for a reason.”

“Knows yours,” Black Bat argued.

“That was entirely out of my hands. He figured it out because of Phantom.”

Cass turned around in her seat to stick her tongue out at her brother. Tim was quick to return the favor.

“Watch the road!” Danny shouted as a building grew rapidly closer dead ahead.

Luckily, Cass swerved in time. The two police cars behind them were not so lucky. Danny felt as if every drive with his parents ever had prepared him for this precise moment.

“Sorry for Black Bat’s driving,” Tim said from the back seat. It was then the vigilante seemed to notice they were still holding hands. He flushed and pulled his hand away. Danny missed it.

“Don’t be. Reminds me of my folks.”

Tim stared. “That is concerning.”

“You taught me,” Black Bat blamed from the front seat.

“Not to drive like a maniac!”

“Tim lies,” Black Bat. “Tim is…what did Jason say?”

Tim muttered something under his breath.

“Right! Speed Demon!”

Tim groaned and slumped in his seat. “Don’t listen to her. She’s lying.”

Danny smirked at Tim. “I think she’s definitely telling the truth. You seem the type to be an absolute maniac on the road.”

Tim glared through the fingers over his eyes. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Implying what? That you have a need for speed? Or maybe that you enjoy a rough ride?” Danny leered.

Predictably, Tim flushed again. “You’re a menace.”

Danny core’s hummed in delight. “Thank you, I try.”

“Cute,” Cass remarked from the front seat as she watched them in the rearview mirror. And now Danny felt his own face warm with a flush of his own.

Thankfully, Tim changed the topic. “Anyway, what happened with the fear gas?”

“Made a portal. Tossed it in. Done.” Danny decided best not to mention the moral alignment-to-be-determined ghost he power-boosted to soak up the excess.

“How did you deal with the gas that had already leaked out?” Tim questioned.

…Or maybe he would have to explain.

“Make portals? Meta?” Cass asked.

Tim sighed. “Not quite. He’s…” Tim trailed off. Danny realized Tim was looking at him, searching for permission. He appreciated the gesture.

“Nothing leaves this car right?” Danny asked. Tim was quick to agree, but he wasn’t looking for Red Robin’s acquiescence. He stared at Cass’s masked eyes through the rearview mirror. Black Bat made the symbol of zipping her mouth and throwing away the key.

Danny nodded. “I’m Phantom.”

“Not dead?”

“Half dead.”

Cass nodded, as if this made perfect sense. Danny was really starting to like her. Too bad Red Robin already held the spot of favorite Gotham vigilante.

“So yeah, apparently portal making is on the ghostly abilities list. How many powers do you have anyway?” Tim asked.

Danny shrugged. “Lost count. A lot. And probably forgotten even more than I can remember.”

Tim sighed, while Cass chuckled up in the front.

Because Black Bat ignored just about every road rule, they crossed town to the Narrows remarkably fast. The car was mostly silent the rest of the way. Tim was busy replying to messages on his phone, something about checking in with Tam. Cass and Tim seemed comfortable in the silence. Even though they spoke no words, Danny reveled in the familial love cycling between the two of them. With a pang in his chest, Danny found himself missing Jazz and Dani. He should really try to visit Jazz soon. And maybe reach out to Dani for a brief visit. Or even an adventure of her choosing. He remembered she’d been wanting to explore an alternate earth with dragons. Could be fun gremlin-bonding time.

“Your stop,” Cass announced. “One hour to distract B.”

“Understood. Thanks, Cass. Favorite sibling.” He held out a hand for a fist pump, which Cass happily returned.

Cass preened at the compliment. “I know.”

“Nice to meet you, Black Bat!” Danny waved before behind pushed out.

And then with Danny and Tim on the sidewalk, the Batmobile sped away.

“So…that was another of your siblings,” Danny remarked. “I like her.”

“You already met her. In the cave remember?”

Danny waved a hand. “Doesn’t count. I didn’t really get to meet anyone that visit.”

Tim scowled. “Wait. Another? Who else did you meet?”

“Red Hood. Had to do that favor for Alfred. Speaking of, probably need to see him again soon.”

“You met with Hood?!” Tim exclaimed. Then he put a finger to Danny’s lips. “Wait. Nevermind. We’ll go inside, then talk. Don’t know who’s listening out here.”

Danny smiled against Tim’s finger.

Realizing what he was doing, Tim stepped away. Red creeped up his neck. “Follow me,” he murmured. Danny would almost think Tim was just uninterested if not for the waves of embarrassment and confusion wafting off him. And while Danny knew it would be an absolutely terrible idea to get involved with another vigilante, he was always prone to making reckless decisions in the heat of the moment. For now, he’d just enjoy flustering Red Robin.

The safehouse was spartan, but clearly stocked for every immediate need. Kitchen had a full set of cookware, bathroom had a fully stocked medkit, and the cleaning supplies were definitely purchased with the foresight of future stains that would need to be cleaned up.

“So, do you take all the boys to your safe house on the first date?” Danny batted his eyes.

“Enough joking around. I need answers, and you need to be de-briefed.” Tim locked all five locks on the door after they entered. Then armed some kind of security system.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” Danny dead-panned, because he wouldn’t stop joking even when he was fully dead.

“Need anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”  

“Water is fine,” Danny replied not wanting to impose. Midwest hospitality rules. But Tim was a Jersey Gothamite, so he didn’t ask again. Just got the coffee pot set to brew for himself before grabbing a bottle of water for Danny.

“So…you’re Phantom. And also Danny Fenton.” The two of them sat across from one another at the kitchen table.

“And you’re Tim Drake-Wayne. Also, Red Robin. Let me just say that I did not see that coming. And I’m a little concerned that this might mean Wes Weston was right. Again.”

“Who?”

Danny waved a hand. “Not important. Ask what you really want to ask.”

Tim clasped his hands in front of him. “Fine, we’ll start obvious. You’re a ghost. But you look alive to me right now. How?”

Danny sighed, chilling the bottle in his grip as the death reminder, the plastic crinkling in his grip. “Awful close to asking about my death again.”

Tim flinched. “sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine. I’ll talk. I have a feeling you won’t let it go no matter how polite you try to be. The core piece I lent you was full of…curiosity. I doubt you like leaving things unsolved and unanswered.”

Tim nodded in agreement. It seemed the vigilante was trying very hard not to seem to eager.

Danny took a swallow of water and let the feel of it cooling in his throat soothe him. “It was a lab accident. I was a stupid kid messing around with parents’ inventions to impress my friends. Thousands of volts of electricity and a portal to the Infinite Realms opening on top of me meant I was killed and brought back to life over and over again until the machine spat me out. And I’ve been in between life and death ever since.” Danny found himself rubbing his palm where the Lichtenburg scar started without realizing it.

“Your parents…the Fentons?” Tim scrunched his brow. “Ghost hunters?”

“Unfortunately. They’ve reformed. Sort of. But our relationship is still tense since I told them I was a ghost. Basically they had to choose whether to follow their research or rethink everything they ever assumed about ghosts. They’re still processing.”

Tim frowned. He switched topics, which Danny appreciated. “We need information on the GIW. We can’t get anything on them. Nor on your hometown.”

Danny hummed, finger running along the rim of the glass, frosting the edge in his wake. “The thing is, Birdie, people who look into the GIW tend to disappear. Once you’re on their radar, it isn’t long before you’re gone. And if you get involved, you’re going to have to choose to break national law and side with the dead, or side with the living but support genocide. It’s not something you want to be tangled with. It’s certainly something the Justice League decided to stay far, far away from.”

Tim scrunched his brow. “The Justice League? How do they fit into this?”

Danny chuckled drily. “That’s just it, they don’t. Six years ago when the ghost attacks started, the entire town believed the Justice League would come help, and instead they got me. And my friends. All the calls went ignored. And then, our town got pulled into the Infinite Realms and I had to fight a megalomaniacal ghost king to get it back. After that, Amity Park wrote off the Justice League just like they wrote off us.” Danny could feel his ring of rage pulse. He had to force himself to calm down, particularly as the room seemed several degrees colder than when they had entered.

“That’s not…that’s not possible. We wouldn’t have written off something of that scale. Especially if there were multiple reports.”

Danny chuckled darkly. “Oh I know that now. Made friends with Captain Marvel when we crossed paths one day. He looked into it for me. Wherever our reports ended up, it wasn’t the Justice League. I suspect GIW, but we haven’t been able to get close enough to check.”

“That seems unlikely. Both Oracle and I have had trouble getting past the firewalls of Dead_Pharoh, who I suspect is Tucker Foley.”

Danny huffed. Red Robin was too clever for his own good. Danny should be fleeing the city right now. Instead, he was giving the vigilante practically everything. “You’re right. But keep this in mind: you are fighting Dead_Pharoh with normal code. Tucker fights with the language of the Infinite Realms. And not only that, the Ancient of Technology himself helped build those firewalls. The GIW uses the same type of system.”

Tim’s face was very controlled, but Danny could feel a jump of alarm at the mention of Technus. “Ancients are the ones who are basically gods, right? How does GIW beat the Ancient of Technology?”

Interesting… Apparently Tim seemed to know the significance of an Ancient. Constantine probably said something that was mostly accurate. Danny didn’t feel like correcting misassumptions if there was a healthy fear of Ancients. It wasn’t like normal humans could fight them. “It’s not a pleasant story.”

“Danny, I have to know. GIW are in our city, and they could be after my family.”

Danny grimaced. “Fine. In basic terms, they artificially made their own technology ghost by cannibalizing another spirit. Technus would definitely be strong enough to defeat if that was their only protection, but they’ve adapted both magical wards and Fenton technology enough to create enough defenses to keep out even me. Every rescue mission to get into their bases the last four years has failed.”

“Rescue missions?”

Danny’s smile was grim. “How do you think they learned so much about ghosts so fast? They’re not killing ghosts, they’re dissecting them.”

Disgust wafted off Tim. And anger. But it was all underneath a smooth façade of mental calculation. “Well, then we’ll get rid of them. What they’re doing is considered a crime against humanity, and against the Meta protection acts.”

“Oh, Birdie, if only. Surprised you haven’t come across it yet, but then, they always were very good at burying them. Look up the Anti-Ecto Acts next chance you get. My very existence is illegal. As is any ghost or spirit in this world.”

Tim’s face blanched. “That’s not possible.”

“You’re awfully fond of that phrase. I’ve learned when it comes to ghosts, just about anything is possible. A decade ago, when the only research on ghosts was my parents, it was easy to take their words as scientific fact. According to their early work, ghosts are unfeeling and non-sentient.”

“That’s ludicrous! Even discounting you and Jason, who are mostly alive, Alfred is very clearly capable of self-actualization. And I know he feels pain. I’ve seen it.” Tim was up and pacing his kitchen at this point, absently pouring a mug of coffee. Rage wafted off him; a protective bristling that Danny could relate to all too well.

“Isn’t there something you can do as ghost king?”

Danny snorted. “My council’s been clamoring for war for a while now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I mean like diplomacy.”

Danny stared at Tim. “To speak for my people, they’d still have to grace me a seat at the table. They wouldn’t let a cow speak on behalf of all cow-kind, why would do they same for me? Especially when a cow has more rights than I do. Now do you see why you shouldn’t get involved?”

“Actually, I think it makes me want to get more involved than ever.” Tim stirred sugar into his mug absently. It was going to be ungodly sweet. And yet somehow, Tim took a sip without flinching.

“I appreciate it, but you’re going to be on the wrong side of the law.”

“Do you even know what the word ‘vigilante’ means?” Tim smirked.

Danny smirked in return. His heart seemed to thud just a smidgen faster looking at Tim. Without the domino mask, his eyes were piercing and charged like a storm cloud right before it released a bolt of lightning. Danny felt drawn in, skin prickling with attraction. He moved to step forward into the vigilante’s space, drawn in by the tension blooming between them. Unfortunately, the moment was broken by a knock on the door. Tucker’s muffled voice came from the other side. “I swear to the Ancients you two better be in there!”

Tim released a breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. Danny let the moment leave entirely. It was a bad idea to get involved with a vigilante anyway. He stood and headed for the door to let his best friend in.

Chapter Text

Danny and Tucker crashed together in a firm hug. As soon as they separated they were babbling.

“Dude, you just helped stop a Scarecrow attack – ”

“I know! It was insane! So terrified – ”

They seemed to give a play by play of their own events simultaneously. Only Tim’s experience with speedsters allowed him to follow the conversation at all.

Tucker asked something about fear gas effects after Danny recalled how he’d tossed Scarecrow’s machine into a black hole.

Danny’s shoulders hunched. “Ah, I’m fine. Taken care of.”

With the experience of a best friend who can always sense bullshit, Tucker narrowed his eyes. “Danny, what stupid thing did you do now?”

“It…not now, Tuck.” Danny’s eyes flickered to Tim briefly.

“Nope. Nuh-uh. I don’t care if it’s a ghost secret of the highest order, you and I both know I’ll forget to interrogate you later about this. And you are not weaseling out of explaining yourself, Daniel Danger Fenton.”

“Danger?” Tim couldn’t help asking.

“Unfortunately my legal middle name. My parents thought they were being funny. I think they cursed me. My sister’s middle name is ‘Rebel.’” Danny grinned, and Tim thought his middle name definitely suited him.

“Do not get distracted. Danny, tell me what you did,” Tucker demanded.

“Fine! And by the way, it might not have been a stupid idea. I…I boosted a shade.”

Tucker stared. An eye twitch betrayed the tension within. “What.”

“Fed a shade some pure ecto. You know, like that one time at the graveyard when we learned I probably shouldn’t leave dismantled Fenton gadgets lying around.”

Tucker groaned. “I have to sit down. I cannot believe you did this on purpose! Jazz is going to kill you. If Lady Gotham doesn’t get to you first. You know how territorial she is!”

“It was a good idea at the time! Civilians were already being affected by the gas. Name one other thing I could have done to help!”

Tim poured Tucker a glass of water and handed it to the boy as he collapsed on the couch. “What exactly does Danny mean? He created a ghost?”

Tucker grimaced. “Not exactly. I’m not about to get into the weirdness that is ghost biology, but making ghosts from nothing is more complicated than that. Instead, he…well, think of it like Pokémon. Even Gotham teens know about Pokémon right?”

Tim blinked with surprise. Not where he thought this conversation was going. “Uh, yes?”

“Well, think of it like Danny forced an evolution on a much weaker ghost. And because he made a pact with said ghost to do so, he got to have some say in what the ghost evolved into. So…care to explain how it went?”

Danny Fenton reached for Tim’s coffee pot and poured himself a mug. “Well, good news, the ghost can neutralize fear gas.”

“I don’t like the unsaid implication there is also bad news,” Tim replied drily.

Danny took a long sip of coffee. “Well, their name is Fear Eater.”

“Ancients!” Tuck hissed, throwing his head back and an arm over his face.

“Are you saying you made a ghost that can literally eat fear?” Tim asked.

Danny nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem in Gotham. Ghost will be able fulfill obsession without drastically affecting the city’s ecosystem. But should Gotham ever improve…well, there’s a reason creatures have fear, and I don’t want to know what will happen to a city without it.”

Tucker groaned. “That was – ”

“Stupid. So stupid,” Tim finished. Tim snatched back his coffee pot and refilled his mug. B was going to throw a fit if a powered up supernatural entity was flying around the city. “Do you know how much of Batman’s strategy is to fill our enemies with fear? The absurd costumes, the smoke bombs, the Robin laugh? Goons might actually be hard to beat if they’re not quaking in their shoes when we show up.”

“Fear Eater is not removing fear entirely,” Danny argued. “Their obsession specifically drives them to remove the fear of those seeking vengeance and to reclaim their own autonomy. Unless Fear Eater is starving, that is mostly who they will feast upon. But I’m hoping that with the power boost Fear Eater will also gain further self-awareness. Right now they’re too newly evolved to know what will happen.”

“And the side effects? What happens when you let a ghost consume the fear from a person?” Tim demanded.

Danny placed the mug on the counter, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “It’s like a high, or the mania of an adrenaline rush. If one is in a high stress situation, it won’t last forever. Inner fear will re-regulate the body. I’m sure my sister, Jazz, could hypothesize the actual science behind it.”

“But until the body does return to normality, we have people unafraid to do anything,” Tim pointed out. “And you don’t think this will be a problem?”

Danny looked up to glare at Tim. “And what would you have done then?”

“Distributed fear gas antidotes. Cleared the surrounding area.”

“How would you have known who’s affected?”

“Symptoms would have shown up shortly. I would have bided my time to see who experienced the fear symptoms.”

“And if more people were affected than you had antidotes for?”

“Emergency vehicles were already on the scene!”

“Enough!” Tucker shouted over both of them. “What’s done is done. Tim, if Fear Eater truly becomes a problem, Danny will take care of it. He might not have made your choices, but he helped the best way he knew how.”

“You created a new supernatural entity in Gotham.”

“Fear Eater was already here!” Danny protested.

“But they weren’t a threat before!”

“They aren’t a threat now!”

Tuck’s eyes flickered with red light. “Newsflash, Red Robin, your city is already full of the supernatural. And we were keeping our retired butts out of your business until you Bats started stalking us.”

“Tuck – ” Danny started.

“Oh don’t get me started, Danny. If you had left Red Robin alone, we never would have shown up on their radar.”

“You wanted me to leave him to die after one of my subjects attacked him?” Danny’s eyes had shifted to glowing green.

Tucker’s shoulders dropped, and he slumped back on the couch, red light fading from his eyes. “No. No, of course not.”

“You’re a ghost too?” Tim asked Tucker.

A grimace momentarily crept across Tucker’s face, but it dropped as quickly as it had come. “No. I’m just liminal. Consequences of living in Amity Park. I’ll definitely be a ghost when I die though, based off how much ecto exposure I’ve had.”

“And Amity Park is – ”

Tucker interrupted before Tim could ask the questions bubbling within him. “So what’s the plan, Danny? Contingency Spectra or Contingency Ghost Writer? Oh, how about Contingency Ember?”

“I think Contingency Ember would be the opposite of laying low.” Danny pondered it. “Also, you still have yet to shred a guitar with any believable skill.”

Tim didn’t like the sound of this at all. He already knew from Tucker that their contingencies were for when things went to shit. He could infer that they were currently discussing plans for fleeing Gotham.

“You’re leaving,” he stated.

“Duh. Guys in White were swarming Gotham U’s campus when I left. Only a matter of time until they latch onto Danny’s ecto signature and hunt us down.”

“So you’re running. The King of the Infinite Realms brought down by a shady government agency.”

“Shady government agency is fully legal. We’re not,” Danny pointed out.

Tim bit his lip. “Stay. Fight.”

Danny cocked his head. “And why do you care?”

Tim sucked in a breath. Many reasons. His family, for one. Alfred and Jason were both legally ecto-entities and thus affected by whatever amoral law denied their sentience. Also, justice. Like he said, whatever allowed the GIW to operate did so without considering the morality of their mission. Third, there was a never a puzzle Tim wanted to leave alone or a case he left unfinished. And fourth, Tim owed Phantom. Not only that, he liked Phantom. In fact, Tim was starting to think also he liked Danny too much from the way he couldn’t seem to look away from his face. Instead, Tim answered, “because what’s happening to you isn’t right, and I can do something to change it.”

Danny’s quirk of the mouth spread into a full, close-lipped smile.

Tucker leaned over the couch to glare at Danny. “Don’t even think about it, Danny. This is a bad idea. We can’t get involved with Bats anymore than we have. Two words for you: Justice League.”

“CW said working with the Bats might work in our favor.”

Tuck threw his hands in the air. “Oh, well if the almighty CW says so it must be true. Not like that guy is known for being a cryptic asshole or anything.”

“Don’t forget omnipotent,” Danny said pointedly.

“I said what I said, and if old Clock-chest has a problem with me, he can square up.”

“Noted.” Danny continued to smile at Tim. “However, I also think it might be a good idea.”

“I trust your instinct even less. You’re a reckless idiot and a disaster bi.”

“Tuck!” Danny protested. His face flushed.

“Disaster bi, huh?” Tim smirked.

Danny flushed even deeper.  “Shut up. Both of you.”

Tim’s smirk just widened. Was this how Danny felt when he flirted with Tim? This surge of victory? Yeah, Tim could get addicted to this.

Tucker stood up from the couch and stretched. “Fine. I guess we’re doing this. But you can be the one to tell the rest of the team.” Tuck pulled open his backpack, pulling out a laptop and what looked like an incredibly outdated PDA. “I’ll begin the virtual burning of our tech in the dorm. With any luck the GIW hasn’t shown up yet. How secure is this safehouse?”

“Very. But if you have any additional defenses you need to add for the GIW, be my guest,” Tim replied.

“Oh, I will. In the meantime, I’ll begin giving you a key to allow your tech to interface with the ghost code around Amity Park,” Tucker told Tim.” You were right. I’m Dead_Pharoh.” The coder’s grin was a little too toothy to be strictly human.

“Tuck will need time to work. I can’t stay here or I’ll lead the GIW to him,” Danny stated.

“Right. I need to report to the Bats anyway. You can follow as Phantom and we can…” Tim trailed off as Danny began rubbing his chest. “You alright?”

Danny grimaced. When he looked up, his irises were glowing green again. “No, I’m being summoned.”

Tuck’s fingers stopped where they were flying across his keyboard. “Fuck! Can you ignore it?”

“Nah, it’s too specific. Can you – ”

“Fine! I’ll let the team know that too, but you owe me,” Tuck sniped.

Danny smiled at Tim. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. With any luck it will just be a bunch of cultists in over their heads.”

Tim reached out a hand. “No, wait – ” But Danny had already vanished entirely as if he were never there.

Tim stared at where the half-ghost had vanished.

“Don’t worry about Danny. Not the first time he’s been summoned and it certainly won’t be the last. Go check in with your Bats. I’ll be here,” Tucker replied.

Tim nodded, compartmentalizing what just happened.

“Take this with you.” Tucker lobbed a soup thermos his way. Tim’s vigilante reflexes were quick to snatch it out of there.

“What’s this?” It looked similar to whatever Phantom had used the night he met Tim.

“Another contingency. Once you’re outside and ready to go, half unscrew the lid and drive in circles around the city. It’s full of some of Phantom’s ectoplasm. I’m hoping it leads the GIW on a wild goose chase. Lady Gotham will be pissed, but if she’s smart she’s about to get the power up of the century.”

“That sounds concerning. You want me to evolve another ghost?”

“That won’t evolve her. Not enough in there for that. Be ready to start seeing her ghost around though. She’s weirdly protective of you Bats.”

“I’m still worried.”

Tucker’s grin was feral as he let his head hang over the couch to meet Tim’s gaze. “You should be. She’s as crazy as your city.”

Red Robin – now changed into a spare uniform from the safe house – sped through the winding streets of the city with Tucker’s thermos leaking Phantom’s ecto-signature behind him. He had spent longer than he thought with Tucker and Danny, so the sun was now set, and Gotham was making its uneasy transition from its less dangerous day time to the nighttime only the criminal, insane and desperate dared brave. The thrill of weaving through traffic gave Tim time to analyze everything he'd learned today. And there was a lot to ponder.

Unfortunately, he got too caught up in his thoughts, so he didn’t notice when he took a left turn a street later than planned and ended up crossing the border into Crime Alley: Red Hood’s territory.

He realized his mistake when the growl of one of Jason’s bikes came up from behind him and rode alongside him. Hood tapped his helmet, signaling for Tim to turn on his comms.

As soon as Tim flipped the switch, Jason’s voice filtered through his own helmet. “What the fuck, little Red? Everyone’s been worried about you the past couple hours, and now I find you in my territory feeling like Phantom.”

Tim paused. There was a whole lot of explanation to go through. Too long and too much for a bike ride. “Meet me on the roof where Paulie’s bodega is. I’ll explain there.”

“Better not skive off. With the ecto around you, the Pits can track you like a bloodhound right now,” Jason warned. Which was agreement enough.

“Good,” Tim couldn’t help remarking before accelerating into the night. Time to ditch the bike. He was tempted to leave it in the middle of Crime Alley, and let Jason’s people handle the GIW when they came calling, but he was not about to put his brother in danger like that. Instead, he turned right, back towards Old Gotham. He’d leave the bike in the warehouse district. With any luck, one of the gangs would chase out the white-suited bastards.

Bike ditched, Tim grappled back to Crime Alley. By the time he landed on the roof, Red Hood was waiting. With sandwiches, to Tim’s delight.

“About ready to call the calvary if you didn’t show. Check in with the others yet?” Jason asked.

“Yeah.” Which was mostly true. He’d told Oracle he was still alive and he’d explain in the debrief later, which was as good as telling the rest of the Bats he was fine.

“Cool. Now what the hell is going on?” Jason demanded. He removed the helmet, leaving his black hair and white streak to ripple in the wind.

Tim snagged one of the sandwiches and began to unwrap it. Paulie made the best sandwiches around, and they were open at the weirdest hours. Not to mention they were dirt cheap, so even the unfortunate sods in Crime Alley could afford them for a lunch break. In other words, Paulie’s was definitely a front for money laundering. But it was Crime Alley and Crime Alley was Jason’s problem if the Bats still wanted to play nice with Jason. Tim wasn’t complaining. He really liked Paulie’s sandwiches.

“So much. This would be a lot quicker if you hadn’t ghosted us entirely this past week.”

Jason groaned. “I want to shoot you for that pun.”

Tim snickered. “I’m serious though. So much has happened.”

“Phantom filled me in on some stuff. Ghosts and kings and whatnot. Apparently I’m partly ghost? Because of the coming back from the dead thing.”

“Huh. Weird. How do you feel about that?” Tim asked, mouth full of delicious Italian meats.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, gremlin. And I don’t know. I’m not looking at it too closely. But your ghost boy seems to think he can do something to help with the Pits.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about that. Also said he needed to follow up with you on it. But he got summoned somewhere else last I saw of him.”

“So he really is some kind of ghost king?”

Tim pondered that. “I don’t have reason to believe otherwise. He is definitely a very strong supernatural being. He escaped one of Constantine’s traps like it didn’t even affect him.”

“Shit. Heard tales Constantine’s bound lords of hell before. Kid wasn’t kidding about his powers.”

Tim shivered. “He’s done other stuff. Stuff that shouldn’t be possible. Also, he’s not really a kid. Apparently he only looked fifteen when part of his core was missing.”

“Oh?” And then Jason was smirking at him. “How does he normally look then?”

“Nuh-uh, don’t even think about it. He’s a ghost.”

“A ghost with a penchance for chaos and who could probably take you in a fight. Aka, your type. Is he jacked? In his normal form that is?”

Tim choked. “I am not answering that.”

“That’s a yes.” Jason whistled. “Baby bird has a crush.”

Tim balled up his empty sandwich wrapper and chucked it at his brother. “I do not! You don’t even know what he looks like! Maybe he’s old and decrepit looking.”

“Yeah, but your tone of voice tells me he isn’t. You have a crush on a ghoooost!” Jason sang.

Tim proceeded to attempt to tackle his brother. “I have thousands of pictures of you in booty shorts, don’t test me!” Tim hissed.

Jason – monster that he is – just cackled. He wrestled with Tim some, but thankfully avoided putting him in a headlock. Last time Jason had tried that maneuver Tim had spiraled into a panic attack remembering the incident at Titan’s Tower. Mostly Jason just deflected Tim’s jabs without outwardly attacking.

A green blast arcing over the roof from the street, startled both vigilantes. Both of them rolled to their stomachs and army crawled to the edge of the roof to look down on where the attack had come from. Tim’s heart beat faster when he saw the distinctive white suits of two GIW operatives below.

“Shit,” Tim whispered.

“Are those the guys Phantom warned me about? GDW or whatever stupid acronym they came up with?” Jason whispered back.

“GIW. Unfortunately looks like it. They were at the attack from Scarecrow earlier today tracking Phantom’s signature.”

“What was Phantom doing at Gotham U?”

“Shh, they’re talking.”

An agent with a razor sharp bob haircut spoke with a feminine lilt, “The signal is faint, but there,”

“Forget Phantom’s signature. I’m picking up something else. Much stronger signal.” The other agent was larger and broader. Most likely male, with an undercut that didn’t quite fit his government agent persona.

Tim switched frequencies to the main Bat channel. “Oracle, you picking up what we’re hearing?”

The agents below continued to bicker over which signature to follow.

“Yes. Keep your eyes on them. I’m going to use Jason’s helmet footage to run facial recognition software,” Oracle informed them over the comms.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my helmet,” Jason growled lowly.

“Ooh! It spiked!” the male agent gasped.

Tim set his domino mask to the eagle eye feature to zoom in on the agents. But just as he was leaning a little more to get a better angle, the two agents looked up, crazed grins on their sunglass-adorned faces. It was Gotham city at night; how did these douchebags even see?

Tim and Jason ducked out of view on instinct. Of course, they both knew it was too late, the agents had seen them.

“Hey, looks like one of the Fentons’ theories might be right,” the female agent cooed. “Ecto-contamination in Gotham vigilantes will definitely get our division more funding in this city.”

Red Hood pulled at Tim even as he strained to hear the other agent’s reply.

“Come on, RR, we aren’t sticking around until we know more about them.”

“I’ve been trying to hack GIW firewalls all week,” Tim hissed. “I’m not letting this opportunity slip away.” Even if all of Phantom’s warnings urged him to do otherwise.

A blast of green energy shattering the bricks nearby made both vigilantes jump.

“Are they shooting blind?!” Jason asked incredulously. “Are they nuts?”

“Apparently so,” Tim muttered, scooting away from the wall. He didn’t want to find out what happened if the agents got a lucky shot in. He could confer with Tucker later. He didn’t want to stick around to see what those green blasts would do to him after all.

“Split up and rendezvous?” Tim asked.

Jason nodded.

As Tim fled away towards the Bowery, he informed the other Bats of the situation over comms. “Looks like Phantom’s warnings weren’t for nothing. Currently pursed by two hostiles in white suits. Trackers of some variety. Green energy blasts that look like plasma-variant of a Lazarus water. Hood and I are currently splitting and diverting.”

“Is anyone injured?” Batman asked.

“Negative,” Hood replied. “Mr. White currently in pursuit of me. I think Mrs. White currently in pursuit of RR.”

“Mr. and Mrs. White?” Nightwing asked, bemused.

“Yeah, like Mr. and Mrs. Smith, but psychotic and incompetent,” Jason answered. “You can see them a mile away. They are not dressed for Gotham.”

Tim leapt from roof to roof, zig-zagging across the city to lose his tail. But with whatever the agent was managing to track him with, it was clear that he wasn’t going to lose her anytime soon. A few blocks over, Tim heard an explosion. It appeared Jason was pulling out all the stops to lose Mr. White.

Red Robin much preferred using stealth to evade his opponents. But with her tracker, it seemed all his usual tricks were useless because Mrs. White would just find him again. He lead her on a chase around the city for several blocks before Tim knew he’d have to eventually face a confrontation.

He chose a particularly favorite alley for its obstacles and ease of access to the roofs above. Otherwise, the alleyway appeared a like the ideal trap to lure the attacker into a false sense of security. Red Robin hadn’t lost a battle in this alleyway yet.

“Confronting Mrs. White,” Tim announced over comms as he leapt back down to street level. It was immediately met with several protests, all of which Tim ignored

Mrs. White predictably stood at the only entrance to the alley way, her shadow stretching long enough to touch Red Robin’s shoes as they faced off like two cowboys in an old film.

“Well, well, Red Robin is an ecto-entity. How concerning to find your kind infiltrating Gotham, although unsurprising.”

Red Robin twirled his bo staff. “Not an ecto entity. And even if I was, it wouldn’t be as surprising than the fact your suit is still somehow white in Gotham’s smog.”

The GIW agent sneered. “Your city is a cesspit. I’ve had to change four times today.”

Red Robin pouted with false concern. “Oh, how awful. It’s almost as if the city doesn’t want you here.”

“Nice try, spook.” Mrs. White raised a strange gun, mostly white with green accents. As it powered up, green light formed at the tip. Tim anticipated the blast and dodged just in time. He took the opportunity to sprint to closer quarters and swipe the agent’s legs with his staff.

Mrs. White jumped and dodged. And then the fight was on. Unfortunately, the fight was currently in Mrs. White’s favor as she didn’t hesitate to shoot the strange gun at close range. And since Tim had no idea what it would do to him, he found himself dodging more than attacking. Clearly this woman didn’t fear any backlash from her own weapon.

“How do you have Phantom’s ecto signature on you? Have you been in contact with your so-called king?”

“What I want to know is how you think an entire species can be non-sentient if they have an established political structure you seem to recognize.”

“Even bees have queens,” the agent smirked. “And you’re nothing more than a drone. Now, where is Phantom?!”

Tim had to roll behind a dumpster to dodge another attack. The wall above him was clipped, and red dust and mortar showered down on him.

“He’s long gone! Now get out of my city!”

Something rolled across the ground, and before Tim could move, a net made of what looked like lime green electricity domed over him. He tested it with his bo staff, but the net had no effect. Tim prodded it more carefully, working up to sticking his hand through the green light. Still, nothing happened.

As Mrs. White came around, smiling with triumph, Tim took the opportunity to leap out of the trap.

The agent’s smile morphed into shock. “How?! The Fenton Cage prevents any ectoplasm from passing through!”

Tim smirked. “Or maybe I’m telling the truth and I’m not an ecto entity”

The agent scowled. She holstered her white gun and instead pulled out a weapon Tim was far more familiar with on the streets of Gotham: a Smith and Wesson 9mm. Real bullets. That would definitely do some damage. “No matter. You have the trace of Phantom’s signature all over you. Either way you are violating the Anti-Ecto Acts. I’m taking you in for questioning.”

“Yeaaah, I don’t think so.” Tim thumbed the smoke bomb in his other hand. With the fight much more predictable now, Tim knew he’d have the agent incapacitated in a couple moves. He just had to avoid the bullets. Hopefully Mrs. White was less trigger happy with a real gun.

But before Red Robin could make a move, a white van screeched to a stop outside the entrance to the alley. The back door opened, and Tim froze at the surprise of seeing the other agent holding a captured Red Hood, with an ecto-gun at his chest.

“Come quietly or I end your friend’s sorry existence,” Mr. White spat. Tim was only distantly happy to see the agent’s suit was a mess, and he already had the beginnings of some nasty bruises on his face. Red Hood hadn’t let himself be captured quietly.

Now that the fight was paused, Tim became aware of the other Bats’ voices filtering through the comm. All of them panicking since they last contact with Hood, and were clamoring for an update from Tim.

And well, Tim wasn’t an ecto entity, but his brother was. And he had several tricks up his sleeve. Or should he say, trackers. Tim dropped his bo staff on the ground and put his hands to his head. “Alright. I’ll come with you,” he surrendered.

“Red, no!” Nightwing shouted over the comm. Steph swore loudly and length after him.

Thankfully, Batman guessed at Tim’s plan. “Oracle, begin activating all available Red Robin trackers.”

Mrs. White smiled, and pulled out glowing green handcuffs from one of her suit pockets. He was pleased to note that the cuffs of her pants were grey and black from the fight. If he fell just right, he might even be able to wipe some of the grime off his suit onto her jacket.

Mrs. White swore as Red Robin all but collapsed against her. A black streak was stained across her shoulder and left flank. Perfect.

“Can’t wait until we get out of this hellhole,” Mrs. White grumbled as she shoved Red Robin into the back next to Red Hood.

“Unfortunately, we’ll probably be back,” Mr. White sniffed. “If these two are ecto-contaminated, good chance the rest of Gotham’s Bats will be too.”

“Joy,” Mrs. White replied drily.

Meanwhile Red Robin scanned Red Hood for any critical wounds as the van started up from another agent up front. Nothing obvious, but that didn’t mean Red Hood didn’t have a concussion or one of the GIW’s weapons did damage he couldn’t see. Hopefully Batman tracked them down soon. It was a good thing Phantom hadn’t been with them tonight.

“Shoot him with the pulse. Don’t want to risk these ecto freaks somehow using technology to call the rest of their brood just yet,” Mr. White said gruffly.

Red Robin looked up, just in time to see Mrs. White point something that looked like a taser at both him and Red Hood. He braced himself for an electric shock, but didn’t feel anything. However, his heart still sunk when he heard a pop in his ear of his comm frying. The frantic voices of his family scrambling to find them fell silent. His trackers had probably been disabled as well.

Well, time for Plan C. Tim slammed his shoulder against Mrs. White and used the surprise to also leap up and kick Mr. White in the stomach.

“Hood! Run!” Tim shouted.

But Jason must have been more concussed than Tim realized, because he seemed unable to find his balance, let alone fight. Tim might have made a tactical error. Especially when he heard the door of the van open, and two more agents ran out. Usually, Tim would be fine with five opponents, but he was currently hand-cuffed and his bo was in enemy hands.

Mrs. White shot Red Hood with a beam of light that caused him to fall unconscious.

“Hood!” Tim shouted. He twisted out of the fight with Mr. White with another kick knocking his knees down. He ran towards Red Hood and the bitch currently restraining him with more glowing green devices, with the intent of knocking her out

But before he could, another of the agents shot something at Tim’s head, messing up his trajectory. Tim doubled over. His head felt on fire. He thought he could hear someone screaming in agony as he fell, consciousness eluding him.

Chapter Text

One of the worst things about being King of the Infinite Realms in Danny’s opinion, was the summonings. Thankfully, there were few summonings left out there that could successfully force him to appear, but it was still just enough to be annoying. When Danny felt the itch in Red Robin’s safehouse, he was definitely annoyed. Especially by the sheer power behind the summoning, specifically calling upon the ghost king. Typical Fenton luck.

Might as well deal with this today then, Danny grumbled inwardly as the spell carried him off. He slipped into his ghost form in transit, adjusting it into the kingly visage he preferred while in the Realms. With some small adjustments. If the summoner wanted the Ghost King, Danny was going to give them one.

Danny opened and emerged from a swirling green portal above a runic circle just as one John Constantine finished incanting in ancient Egyptian. Danny had hoped his last display in the Batcave would have scared the conman away from ghosts entirely. Apparently not. Danny emerged, maneuvering slowly, unaccustomed to interacting with the mortal plane in his eight-foot-tall king form. He hoped it made him look more predatory than awkward. He wasn’t too sure the summoner noticed, eyes zeroed in on Danny’s face that now had nine solid green glowing eyes surrounded by starlit freckles, and an unhinged jaw full of fangs. John Constantine was currently staring at him, a smoking cigarette between his frowning lips.

Danny looked around, unimpressed with the messy flat where the only clear space was the center of the floor where Constantine had laid the summoning circle. From the smeared chalk, it was clear that this was Constantine’s go-to space for rituals.

“WHAT FOOLISH MORTAL DARE CALLS UPON ME?” Danny greeted, letting more of his power out into his voice. The nearby electronics began to buzz with static. Constantine’s TV turned on into grey fuzz that began to echo his words in ghost speak. Danny loved messing with electronics for a good haunting.

Constantine winced, but otherwise seemed relatively unaffected. Danny supposed someone who readily cheated high demons might have a stiffer spine than most. Danny would have to up his game if this went poorly. Maybe he should have made his face the void of a black hole instead, though he usually saved that visage for yelling at observants.

“Er, hello, your majesty. Just have a couple questions for you, and afraid only had direct line summoning to you rather than another Realms ghost.”

Danny crouched so he could clack his claws on the ground and face Constantine at eye-level. “WHAT KNOWLEDGE DO YOU SEEK THAT I COULD POSSIBLY DEEM WORTHY FOR MORTAL EARS, JOHN CONSTANTINE?”

“How did you – nevermind, you can probably read my soul or something. And that’s what I’m calling about actually. I have some questions about who is currently in possession of my soul.”

Danny paused so he could still speak with appropriate gravitas rather than giggling in the middle of it. He could not believe this man summoned the King the Infinite Realms for a soul status update. He didn’t realize who Phantom was; this was going to be great.

 “And what offering have you prepared for me to answer your questions?”

Constantine fumbled. “Er, the ritual didn’t mention anything about offerings. Didn’t prepare much, but what do you want? I won’t get you any kind of sacrificial virgin or that rot, but – “

Danny wrinkled his nose. “Ew. No. Why would I – nevermind. I forgot you usually deal with demons. What do you have in your fridge?”

Constantine looked a little gob-smacked. “My fridge? I guess I have some sheep’s blood for that thing with – “

Danny sighed. “I mean like real food. Ice cream? A sandwich? From the way this day’s been going, I kind of want a beer.”

 Constantine squinted in disbelief. “I might have a beer. Wait a tick.” He walked across his apartment and opened the fridge, the inside light flickering until Danny willed his powers back to stop messing with Constantine’s technology. Unfortunately, one light bulb did explode from the strain, finally giving out.

“What the fuck?!” Constantine exclaimed.

“Sorry,” Danny murmured.

“Uhhh…it’s fine.” Constantine’s eyes flickered briefly to Danny before he turned back to his very spartan fridge, murmuring about inconsiderate ancients. The fridge itself was nearly empty except for a half stick of butter, what looked like some kind of mustard and three bottles of beer.

“Ancients, do you seriously live like this? All that soul-whoring to extend your life and you’re not even bothering to take care of it.”

Constantine slammed the door shut with two bottles of beer in hand. “I cannot believe I am getting judged by some eldritch prick who – wait a second. Soul-whoring? Phantom called me…”

“Yes?” Danny replied with what he hoped was a smirk. He wasn’t sure he managed to convey smugness with an unhinged jaw though.

“Listen, Pariah – “

“I AM NOT PARIAH DARK!” Danny screeched, the kingly powers in his core protesting vehemently at his predecessor’s name. His eyes flashed with red, painting the room briefly in eerie crimson light. He could feel the crown of frozen fire above his head flickering with cold flames. The ring of rage on his finger awakened, the dragon stretching out its wings and yawning.

Constantine flinched back. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Didn’t get the memo on a change in hierarchy.” Constantine paused, and then eyes widened. “Holy shit. Ghosts inherit through single combat. Who the fuck are you to have defeated the Mad King?”

Danny willed his rage to settle at the misunderstanding. The ring of rage went back to sleep and Danny’s eyes shifted back to green. He snatched a beer bottle out of Constantine’s hand over the ritual lines that didn’t affect him ever since he started owning the majority of the mage’s soul. “Better question, how stupid do you have to be to summon someone you thought was ‘the mad king?” With a flick of his claw the top popped off and he took a swig of the beer, figuring if he was going to answer questions anyway, he might as well enjoy it.

“How did you – you shouldn’t be able to – ” Constantine finally looked truly afraid as he watched Danny sip on the beer.

“Same reason it failed in the Batcave.” Danny let his form flicker and distort until he shifted back into the mostly human form he preferred to use on the mortal plane. Admittedly, he didn’t have to suppress his power here, so he let himself appear his actual age. And he kept the crown and ring in their usual form, so Constantine didn’t forget exactly who he was dealing with. “I own your soul, John Constantine.”

John Constantine had experienced a lot of unpleasant surprises in his life. He did not like surprises. He did not like being wrong-footed and void of answers while full of questions. Ever since he began looking into the Infinite Realms for Batman, he felt consistently twenty steps behind. Seeing the powerful eldritch king he’d mistaken for Pariah Dark shift into the slightly-aged up glowing ghost from the Batcave sip on a beer was the biggest slap in the face yet.

“Phantom?!” Constantine exclaimed.

“That’s King Phantom to you, Johnny.” The maybe-a-teenager took another sip of beer as he kicked back to lounge in the air. His voice was still distorted and echoey, but noticeably less ever since he shifted into a different form.

“How…when…”

“I thought you wanted to hear about your soul. My patience here is not everlasting. You interrupted some important negotiations, and I’ve got places to be,” Phantom informed him.

“Fine. How do you keep breaking my spells?” John asked. He knew how to prioritize.

“Dude, we’ve been over this. I. Own. Your. Soul.” The undead teenager had the audacity to clapback at him, letting the beer hover in midair as he did so. “Well, most of it anyway. Enough that any magic you try to trap me I can just mirror back to entrap you instead. Or circumvent.”

John…John had to sit down for that one. “So you could just leave whenever. Why did you even bother showing up?”

Phantom shrugged. “Eh, didn’t recognize it was you summoning me at first. And then I figured, you would have kept bothering me if I didn’t answer some questions.  Might as well get it over with. Maybe Clockwork will take pity and send me back earlier.”

“Clockwork?”

“Ancient of Time.”

“Ancient of Ti – “ John spluttered. “You mean fuckin’ Kronos!?”

Phantom waved his hand in a so-so motion. “Kinda? More like he is the spirit of time. Parts of all time gods are part of him, especially when they die. But he is also distinct from them. It’s complicated. I don’t really understand it, and when Clockwork did explain, I zoned out and now I think it would be rude to ask about again.”

John took a long drag of his cigarette. “Okay, this is too much to get into right now. So, you own my soul. What are you going to do with it?”

Phantom grinned, too wide and toothy to ever be mistaken for fully human. “You got balls, Johnny, asking a direct question like that. Good thing I’m good-natured enough to answer you. Unfortunately, I have to do something with it. So my plan is for you to do all the paperwork that’s accumulating on it from all the soul disputes and once that’s taken care of, I’ll give it back.”

“You just want me to do some paperwork and you’ll give my soul back.” John repeated. “That’s it?”

Phantom’s grin was still sharp. “It’s cute you think it qualifies as some paperwork. But good news! You’re going to have some help! In fact…” Phantom closed his eyes.  A low thrumming noise emanated from his core. A single clawed finger reached up and made a tear in reality to another glowing green portal.

John’s hand went to his pockets for a vial of holy water. He had no idea if it would work on whatever ghostly entity was about to come through, but it would certainly affect a demon.

A static hum overlaid by the sound of ice cracking emanated from Phantom. Only a few moments later, something stumbled through, absolutely covered in a black viscous substance Constantine identified all too easily as demon blood. He fought the urge to step back when he found himself looking at a two and a half foot tall, green entity tripping over the hem of a black and white cloak. They were generally humanoid shape, but in place of a head they had instead a giant floating green eyeball with a red iris that stared straight at Phantom.

The eyeball squealed somehow, followed by squeaking noises, which Phantom responded to with a chittering and humming sound that could only be ghost speak.

After a bit, Phantom reverted to English. John wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. “Eye-saac, You’ve been doing great work. And as a treat, I want to introduce you to someone.” John had a very bad feeling. He had no idea what kind of entity he was looking at, but it radiated a powerful death energy just like Phantom. “This is John Constantine. Johnny, meet Eye-saac.”

The eyeball turned to John and it squealed at an even higher frequency. It’s pupil dilated until it nearly overcame the red, and it began to float. “Soul whore man! It’s such an honor, sir! King Phantom gave me your case and I’ve been working hard on it, I swear!”

“M-my case? What exactly are you?”

“Eye-saac!” the eyeball thing chirped.

“Eye-saac is a baby observant, or as I like to call them, eyelets. When I accepted the title of high king, the Observants tried to undermine my idea of a council by making more of themselves. However, because they are a bunch of assholes who neglect their kids, I took ‘em under my wing so to speak. I have them off doing all sorts of enrichment activities. Eye-saac has been hunting down the rest of your soul, trading or absolving other claims.”

John took a long drag of his cigarette. “Okay, lot to unpack there. Oof!” He nearly stumbled over when he saw that Phantom’s eyelet was now hugging his leg.

“I can’t believe King Phantom is letting me meet you,” Eye-saac sighed happily.

“So you have a bunch of ghost babies doing your work for you?”

“I mean, they’re enjoying it, and technically, I’m a part-time king.”

John couldn’t wait for Phantom to leave so he could process this conversation with his old friend, Jack Daniels. “How can you only be a part-time king?”

Phantom huffed. “Considering the other guy took a millenia long nap and the multiverse didn’t fall apart, then I can take time for myself to live my life. And the Observants can suck it. Not you, though, Eye-saac. You and the other Eyelets are perfect.”

“I know! You tell us all the time,” Eye-saac chirped. Unfortunately, he still clung to John’s leg.

Danny continued, “And I’m letting the eyelets take over the tasks I don’t have time for. Don’t worry! Only the fun ones like hunting down tax evaders and working out loopholes in contracts.”

“So…why is uh…Isaac here?” John asked.

“He’s going to help you out with your paperwork one day,” Phantom explained. “Though for now he’ll just help babysit your soul so you don’t go making even more of a mess of it.”

John blinked, trying to process that concerning statement.

“Also you’re pronouncing it wrong. You have to emphasize the ‘eye’ in Eye-saac.”

“Did you seriously give the kid a pun for a name?” John cussed himself out mentally. That was so not the most important question here.

“Oh definitely. They love them and it infuriates the elder Observants. They all have pun names. There’s Eye-sabella, Eye-van…”

John frowned. “Are you saying that you’re letting a bunch of infants stalk demons and other associated undead terrors, and work on contracts that could affect the entirety of reality?”

“Uh, yeah? The Eyelets aren’t like mortal kids. I tried doing the normal kid thing with them, but it didn’t stick. They almost destroyed my Haunt in the Infinite Realms they were so bored. But give them a thousand page demon contract to find a loophole in and they’re happy as Boxy in a shipping warehouse.”

John let the nonsense metaphor slide. “Bloody hell. Fine. Moving on. What did you mean by living life? You’re already a ghost.”

Phantom flinched. Clearly something he hadn’t meant to reveal then. “Uh, nothing. Slip of the tongue. I’m still technically a baby ghost myself. Takes a while for us to fully mature. So…Anyway, I figure Eye-saac can stick around and help you out soul-wise. And it would be good for him to see what you get up to so he knows how to track down the more elusive bits of your soul. Plus, he can answer any more of your questions rather than bothering me.”

“Really, Phantom?” The eyelet almost looked like he had stars in his eyes as he gazed at Phantom from behind Constantine’s leg where he was still attached! Like a goddamn spider monkey. “I can stay with soul whore man?”

Phantom chuckled. “Sure thing, squirt. But maybe call him Uncle Johnny instead, eh? I doubt he’s too fond of the nickname we came up with.”

Oh hell no. John tried to shake off the eyelet. It did not work. He stepped forward towards the ghost prince regardless. “Now wait a damn second – “

“You’ll be good though? Remember our lessons on the GIW? And don’t interfere with his work,” Phantom addressed Eye-saac.

“There is no way I can – “

“Of course, King Phantom! I’ll be super good!”

“Absolutely not – ”

“And you can’t slack off on actually finding the rest of his soul.”

“I swear to the – ”

“Of course not!” The eyelet seemed offended by the very idea of slacking off.

“Oi!” Constantine shouted over them both. Finally he caught the attention of three glowing eyes. “I can’t look after your baby ghost. I’ve got work. Dangerous work that a kid should definitely not be around.”

“Eye-saac can handle himself. He’s a lot more durable than any kind of living child. Think of him like a baby Ancient.”

“I’m still not going to babysit your – “

But John had lost Phantom’s attention again. “Be good. Normal check-ins, Eye-saac. And you can answer his questions, but stay clear of the secret topics, alright?”

“Right.” Eye-saac said firmly. “What are the secret topics again?”

Phantom sighed. “I’ll write you a list and send it over.”

“Phantom! I am not watching your fucking eyeball demon!” John shouted.

“Language! He’s still a kid, Johnny.”

“Not a fucking eyeball demon,” Eye-saac chirped.

“Great. Now he’s going to spread that to the rest of the eyelets. I hope you’re happy,” Phantom complained. He tore another portal in the air. “Oh, and if you need to reach me, Red Hood has my number. Probably Red Robin too.”

“Hey! You cannot just take off and leave! What do I even do to take care of him?”

Phantom smirked, bemused and he stepped one foot into the swirling green. “He’s babysitting you, not the other way around. Eye-saac can look after himself. He doesn’t need to sleep or eat, but be wary about giving him any kind of magical substances. Makes him hyper.”

And before John could do something impulsive like toss the eyelet by the collar of his cloak into the portal after Phantom, it closed with a snap, leaving John alone with the eyelet.

“So…Eye-saac…” John began, looking down at the unnerving large green eye looking up at him.

“Can we look at your contract with Ammon, Uncle Johnny? Phantom’s Keep doesn’t have its own copy yet.” Eye-saac asked, his one, huge, unnerving eye quivering with excitement.

“Release my leg and you got a deal.”

Eye-saac’s pupil somehow blew wider. “A deal with soul whore man?” His entire being shook with excitement. “This is the best day ever!”

John sighed. Time to figure out how to send back a damn Observant to the Infinite Realms.

Upon returning to Red Robin’s safe house, Danny let out the laughter he had been holding. He doubled over in midair, core buzzing with amusement. Seeing the look on Constantine’s face when he told him Eye-saac was staying was absolutely priceless. Definitely worth the subsequent calls he would likely receive from the magician, instead of his original plan of dissuading Constantine from calling him entirely.

When Danny got ahold of himself again, he spotted Tucker still on the couch, looking over him with a single raised eyebrow. “Care to share with the class?”

Danny grinned, bright and toothy. “Got another summons from John Constantine. I sicced Eye-saac on him.”

Tucker chuckled. “I would have paid to see that. Are you sure you should expose Eye-saac to a man famed for conning supernatural entities?”

Danny waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll recall Eye-saac eventually, but let the eyelet have his fun. You should have seen how happy he was.”

“So… are we going to talk about how you’re crushing on a Gotham vigilante? Something you said you would absolutely never do.”

Danny transformed back to his alive state. “I’m not crushing on Red Robin.”

“Dude, you were making heart eyes the whole time he was here.”

“It’s not like that,” Danny insisted. But even he could taste the lie of it.

“Yeah, sure.” Tucker typed something across the keyboard, and it seemed that would be the end of it. Except he replied a few moments later, “when I end up saying ‘I told you so,’ you may make it up to me by hooking me up with Wayne Tech prototypes.”

Danny totally had a biting comeback to that, which would absolute devastate Tucker. Instead, cold breath poured out of his mouth and a chill raced up his spine. Moments later, he felt her.

Lady Gotham phased into the room, bringing the heaviness of despair and anger with her. The shadows of the room curled and stretched around her like a blanket. The two pinpricks of yellow light that made her eyes flickered with the complex emotions that warped and disorted her form. Her dress weeped like tar.

“Lady Gotham, what’s wrong?” Danny asked. His core chirped peace. Calm. Distress, why?

“My knights!”  Lady Gotham screeched. Her core creaked and howled like the squeal of tires failing to evade a fatal crash and the ricochet of gunshots in the city, emanating Danger! Distress! Hurt! REVENGE!

Tucker had to clap his hands over his ears. Even as liminal as he had become over the years of ectoplasmic radiation, he was still too alive to fully handle the intensity of a city spirit’s full emotions.

Danny transformed back into Phantom. His fourteen-year-old self, and not his kingly form so he could avoid pinging the GIW sensors too much. “Tuck, hack into the Bats. I want to see what they know. Lady Gotham wouldn’t come seek me out unless this was a ghost issue.”

“Danny, that’s basically giving them an invitation to figure out who I am. I won’t be able to hack them and maintain my cyber defenses. Not without Technus here to help.”

“Then it sounds like you’ll be meeting another one of your heroes tonight, Tuck.”

Tucker gasped. “Oracle?”

Danny didn’t reply, instead turning towards the distressed city spirit who had calmed only minutely in the ghostly presence of her king. “Take me to your knights,” Danny requested.

With a snarl rivaling the most vicious of Gotham’s street dogs, Lady Gotham flew through the wall back outside. Phantom was quick to follow. She was not a ghost who would wait up, especially in her distressed state.

As the pair flew through Gotham, Danny wasn’t sure how he should feel about the fact they were heading out of it. City turned to suburbs, Gotham’s energy dimming as they drifted farther from her heart, but even then they were running out of actual Gotham limits.

The earbud in Danny’s ear came online with a click. “Are you ready to never see any peace again, because that’s what’s going to happen when the Bats figure out who I am.”

“Red Robin figured me out. It was probably only going to be a matter of time before the rest of the Bats know us both.”

“Fine. Almost in.”

Lady Gotham glitched with irritation, her core hissing with the displeasure of being away from her city. She slowed to a stop before an unassuming warehouse.

“This is where they are?” Danny asked.

“Taken,” the spirit glared at the warehouse, shadows curling around her anxiously like the tentacles of an octopus.

Danny stepped towards the warehouse, flinching away as he felt the burn of magic under his foot. He realized that lines had been painted in the dirt. The warehouse was warded. And based off the sting of the wards used, they were meant to inflict as much harm as possible. Danny felt his core quiver with creeping fear as he realized who had taken Lady Gotham’s knights. He transformed back to human, just so the emotions wouldn’t overwhelm him.

“Which ones did they take?” Danny asked, voice unsteady.

“Red Hood and Red Robin,” the ghost rasped.

Danny nodded. “Return to your city, it’s not safe here. Your knights will be returned.”

“My gratitude, my king,” Lady Gotham dipped into a curtsy. And then she let the shadows overtake her, carrying her back to her city.

“Tucker, we have a problem. I think the GIW took Red Hood and Red Robin.”

“Can confirm,” Tucker replied. “Their group comm is full of chatter about it. They weren’t able to trace the van past the Southwest Quarter though. I can – oh fuck! I think they noticed me.”

“Good. Make contact and tell them I’ve found where they’re keeping their friends.”

Tucker whined loudly, and Danny was fairly certain he caught the muffled sounds of his best friend screaming into a pillow. His reply was bitter with sarcasm. “Great idea, Danny! Let me just tell my hero – Oracle – that I just so happen to know exactly where her friends are. Friends of Batman – the most paranoid vigilante on the planet. That will go super well.”

“Tell them the truth, I don’t care. But they need to be here.”

“Danny? You’re about to do something stupid are you?”

Danny sighed. He took another step back from the warehouse. His core ached. It thrummed with the need to help. To protect those he had already come to think of as his. “I’m really trying not to.”

“It’s the GIW! Going in there is a suicide mission!”

“I know that!” Danny snapped back. “That’s why they need to get here. Fast. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold against my obsession.”

Tuck was silent for a beat. His voice came back gentler. “Hang in there, Danny. I’ll drag them there myself if I have to.”

Chapter Text

Jason was not having a good time. Zero out of five stars for the current kidnapping in progress. As least when the average, run of the mill goon picks one off the street, one can expect the bare minimum of human comfort: sitting down with a bag over one’s head while one may politely ignore the guns angled one’s direction. In the case of a ransom, kidnappers are even nicer. They don’t want the merchandise too roughed up in transit. That comes later for when body parts might need to be mailed in envelopes.

Whoever these white-suited, government bastards were, they seemed to take extra care in ensuring Jason and Tim were uncomfortable. Red Robin was thankfully passed out, his main discomfort being on the floor of the van with strange cuffs around his wrists and ankles. He’d be sore when he woke, but at least he was not presently in pain. Jason, however, had been rudely woken and then forced to stand in the van inside what might have just been the world’s most radioactive hula hoop. Every time the van shifted, Jason was flung to the side and green energy barrier materialized and shocked him. These GIW agents were terrible drivers, so Jason was overall having a terrible time of avoiding the barrier. Didn’t help his hands were cuffed together with some kind of electrically locked handcuffs blinking green lights. In fact, the only positive about the experience seemed to be the fact Jason could barely hear the Pits stirring his blood. Pity, he could use some mindless rage right about now to whale on these assholes.

Oh, and his head was absolutely killing him. Whatever the agents had shot at him gave Jason a migraine that felt like it was cleaving his brain in two.

 “Where are you taking us?” Jason growled at the white-suited agents.

“No concern of yours, spook. We’ll exorcise you from that corpse and you’ll never see the light of day again,” a younger agent Jason hadn’t met until after his awaking from his kidnapping sneered.

It earned him a rebuff from one of the older agents, who sported a salt and pepper mustache. “Don’t engage with the ecto-entity, Agent X. It’s trying to trick you.”

The bastard had managed to knock out Jason when he had been evading Mr. White’s chase. Jason hadn’t realized until too late that Mr. White had been coordinating with three other agents who had snuck up while Mr. White had him distracted.

The first agent ducked his head away, abashed.

“Who are you calling a corpse?” Jason growled. None of the agents replied.

The van-ride continued in silence. It was going on forty minutes since the white van had picked Red Robin and the rest of the goon squad up. Jason had a hunch they weren’t in Gotham anymore. Especially since they had been going straight for far too long. Proper Gotham henchmen would know the Bats could find their way blindfolded, and would spend at least an hour doing circles around the city to turn them around.

When they did stop and the back doors opened, Jason’s theory proved correct. Fresher air than the smog of the city filled his senses, smelling of grass and rusted metal. As the agents man-handled Jason out of the van, he managed to look up and see the odd star twinkling faintly overhead. They rarely even saw that much in Gotham.

As Mrs. White and the mustached agent carried Tim’s prone body out the back, they let his head sag enough to hit the floor of the van on their way out.

The Pit flared within Jason, and he could feel it fighting against whatever ghostly restraints were currently muting it. It felt like the handcuffs were burning his wrist. “Careful with him! He’s of no use with a concussion!”

“When it comes to those corrupted by ectoplasm, technically we don’t even need them alive,” Agent X sneered in Jason’s face.

Jason lunged, but something about the cuffs had also muted the strength he’d become accustomed to. He felt a small surge of satisfaction when Agent X flinched away anyway despite his buddies still holding tight.

“Wait until we have them properly secured before you taunt them,” Mr. White chastised from nearby where he stood menacingly with some kind of ray gun.

“Come help with Speciman 9-2-1,” the mustached agent grunted.

Agent X sneered and walked off. Renewed anger bubbled up in Jason as he watched them swing his brother between three agents as two held onto his wrists, and the other his ankles. He’d shown more care for the scum who targeted kids than these agents were showing Tim.

Jason and Tim were led to an old brick building that were once offices for what otherwise looked like an abandoned railway station. It might look rundown to the odd passerby, but Jason could see new, reinforced windows, and cameras that spoke of an updated security system. The older agent who frequently chastised Agent X stepped up to the door for a fingerprint scan and then input a pin in a keypad that emerged. The hitch of a bolt sliding followed. The door opened revealing a modernized space that jarred with the old brick outside. There were only eight occupied desks, with some other white suited figures milling about. Just like their field agents, they all wore sunglasses, surprising Jason with the fact that yes, these guys could get more douche-y.

At the other end of the main room was a spiral staircase leading to an upper floor, and an elevator. They were all lead to the elevator and Jason’s heart skipped a beat as he realized an agent was pressing a down arrow. Basements were always harder for a rescue mission than upper stories. No windows.

The elevator descended several floors, which did not bode well in Jason’s opinion. Especially since the floor they exited was labeled “B13.” The agents’ base was likely located to the southwest to avoid the aquifers that fed the marsh Gotham was built upon. Great information if he could have been able to get it to one of his allies.

It was on this level that the three agents carrying Tim separated from the rest of the group.

“Hey! Where are you taking him?!” Jason demanded. If they were separated, it would make that much harder for a rescue.

“None of your business, ecto-scum!” An agent growled, tugging Jason forcefully down an opposite hallway.

“Fuck you! If you separate us, I won’t give you squat!” Jason spat, tugging back and refusing to move. He didn’t want to have to go ragdoll knowing the agents would move him anyway, but he was not above playing dirty to increase their chances of making it out of here alive.

A shock in the back, clenched all of Jason’s muscles with pain as some kind of energy rushed through him. It somehow felt like electricity and fire combined into one. It burned. The pain lasted an eternity and only seconds. When it was done, Jason could taste blood in his mouth from where he bit his tongue. He wanted to spit it in the face of his captors, but he also didn’t want to give them a blood sample too easily. Instead, he had to suppress his gag reflex as he swallowed it back.

The agent Jason had dubbed Mr. White laughed. “You act like you have a choice.”

“Fuck…you…” Jason gasped, echoing pain from the energy shock still causing him to shake.

“Move, ectoscum. Or we’ll see how much a reanimated corpse can handle,” another agent growled. He prodded Jason’s back with whatever cattle prod had him convulsing seconds ago. Thankfully, this time without the charge.

Another agent postulated, “Doctor M never did get to see how much Specimen 1-07-02 could take. Wonder if it would take more or less voltage to destabilize a core inhabiting a physical body?”

Jason sucked in a breath, not liking what the agents were implying. He hoped that mean the specimen in question had managed to escape. It was about time he returned to planning his own. Jason took a deep breath and re-inspected the cuffs on his wrists. He had a couple picks up his sleeve, and an extra set in the sole of his shoe. Idiots hadn’t even thought to search him aside from the obvious guns and daggers. He couldn’t let them know what he had, so picking at the cuffs would have to wait until Jason was more certain he was not observed.

The cuffs were definitely electronic. If he could dig into the wires, he’d probably be able to cut off the power and take them off. Unless they had a failsafe built in, but Jason doubted it. Thus far the agents did not seem the types to have multiple contingencies like the Bats. Then again, few had the paranoid-driven contingencies of Batman.

Jason was led down a sterile-white hallway with evenly spaced double doors. His heart jumped with nerves when he saw an operating table through one of the narrow windows on a door. No, no, no, no, no. Jason could withstand a lot of torture. Hell, he’d managed to outlast the Joker whaling on him for days, only to finally be done in by an explosion. But Phantom had warned him that the GIW weren’t just out to end ghosts, they wanted to study them. And vivisection was so not something Jason was prepared to handle. He could practically feel the itch of his Y-scar despite never being alive for the autopsy. It was one of those rare scars the Lazarus Pit didn’t remove for whatever reason. And it served a constant, pulsing reminder to Jason that he died. And he was not looking forward to having it re-opened.

Jason saw the movement of people from an operating room at the end of the hall, and he just knew that was their destination. He was cuffed. He couldn’t afford to deal with more combatants. He let himself watch the three agents escorting him carefully. He waited until opportunity struck, an agent’s bored gaze idling to the side. And then he attacked.

He shoulder-checked the distracted agent into the wall before the other two agents could intervene. He launched himself at Mr. White next, eager for some payback. Mr. White – the idiot – tried drawing his weird gun, giving Jason ample time to use his cuffed wrists to slam up into Mr. White’s jaw and then knock him to the ground.

So far, Jason was two for two, and feeling rather confident. It was clear these agents were not used to fighting living people, relying far too much on their weapons. They would not survive in Crime Alley. Jason had more trouble with the third agent, who did manage to evade Jason’s first two attacks. This agent had what seemed like a modified cattle prod designed to disrupt the Pits and whatever ectoplasm flowed through Jason, so Jason had to forego some of his more powerful moves to dodge the weapon. If that thing got him, it was all over.

Finally, Jason managed to land a sidekick on the third agent, knocking him over. Mr. White had regained his footing again, but Jason managed to send him sprawling back to the floor. But Jason had all but ignored the first agent. And he had failed to take into account that the GIW might have more tricks up their sleeve.

Jason felt sharp pain like a burning around his cuffs and then it spread through his whole body like cold fire, seizing his muscles. Jason couldn’t even keep his balance, falling over onto the floor with a sharp shift and pain that definitely meant a dislocated shoulder.

He flumped over to face the first agent as the pain cut off. She was rising to her feet, some kind of fob in hand, and a wicked smirk on her face. “Stupid spook. You didn’t really think it would be that easy did you?”

The agent’s words didn’t affect Jason much. The imaginary B chastising Jason in his head for underestimating his opponent certainly did though. His heart pounded with adrenaline. He had failed. They were going to strap him down and probably drug him and –

No! Jason forced himself to push the panic down. He had to keep his head clear. He had to –

Another jolt of icy pain flowed through him. Jason’s thoughts felt cloudy, and his vision blurry. How did these guys have so many varied ways of causing pain?

The clack of shoes on tile echoed in Jason’s ears. Through blurry vision, he managed to see someone in a long white coat coming towards them. It was the first person Jason had seen in this godforsaken building who didn’t have their eyes covered in sunglasses.

“Ah, Specimen 4-2-163. Excellent, we’ve been expecting it. Can it still move on its own to the examination table?” The new voice asked.

“Doctor R,” Mr. White greeted. “Unfortunately, the specimen has proven difficult. I recommend keeping it dormant until properly secured.”

“Understood.” The white-coated person crouched down by Jason.

He shuddered at the clinical apathy in their expression. In their gloved hands, they held a syringe and a tiny bottle. Jason pushed and pushed his muscles to do anything, even if it was just to knock the bottle out of the so-called doctor’s hands. But they were stiff and aching as if Jason had stretched them beyond their limits. Something in Jason’s chest hurt. As if whatever fledgling core Phantom had pulled out to examine was now cuffed too.

The needle – dripping with clear liquid – inched towards Jason’s neck.

“N-no,” Jason stuttered softly, furious that it was the only thing he managed to do.

“Save the pain imitation for the operating table, spook,” the agent with the fob to Jason’s cuffs spoke, and kicked him in the side. Jason barely felt it through all the other pain.

“Enough, Agent V. We don’t want the specimen damaged any further or it might invalidate some of our experiments.”

Jason managed to flinch away, but not enough as the needle pierced his neck. Jason felt tears leak from his eyes as his vision darkened. And then his consciousness slipped away from him entirely.

Tim – no, Red Robin, based off the fact he could feel the mask pressed against his face – awoke to a soreness. Unfortunately, not uncommon for him, but he hadn’t remembered being beaten black and blue. Did he have memory loss from a concussion? He didn’t feel concussed.

He cataloged what he was able to of his current state without moving or opening his eyes. His arms were cuffed to armrests, and his feet were also cuffed by the ankles. So, he was cuffed to a chair. Not ideal. He definitely felt the soreness of bruises, but no sharper pain that might indicate some kind of bullet wound or broken bones. Bits of and pieces of the day and evening came back to him. The final standoff with the GIW agent had barely been anything. Nothing to suggest why his head felt so sore. But it wasn’t anything Red Robin couldn’t handle.

Tim listened carefully for the telltale signs that someone might be observing him: breathing or shifting. But there was nothing. The only sound Tim could identify was the hum of the AC. Slowly, Tim let his eyes blink open and took in the space. His heart sunk a bit when he saw a one-way mirror in front of him. They were probably watching him wake up. Not ideal. The rest of the room read standard interrogation room too. Darks walls, cameras pointed at him, and only a table and chairs for décor. In fact, the only thing out of place was the chair Tim was currently sitting on. It was straight and uncomfortable like something out of Arkham before Bruce had begun pushing for reforms. The cuffs were like nothing Tim had ever seen. They were thick and silvery white, with green lights blinking around them. He tried struggling against them briefly and gasped when he felt the zap of an electric shock. Yeah, this was definitely not legal. The GIW was starting the match the sadism of Gotham’s worst rogues.

“Finished playing dead, scum?” A white-suited agent greeted as she entered the room.

She was tall with streaks of gray in hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore the same douche-bag sunglasses of the rest of the GIW agents.

And well, Tim was always looking for answers. “This has been bothering me, how do you all see? Those sunglasses cannot work well with the dim light in here.”

The agent sneered. “Specimen 9-2-1. Reported with low levels of ectoplasm. Enough that we had to add another classification. But what ectoplasm you did contain registered primarily as ectoplasm from Specimen 1-7-02. Explain.”

Tim dramatized a startle. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to understand what any of that means?”

The agent slammed her hands on the table. Her teeth were gritted in fury. “You are a living specimen infected with ectoplasm of the creature colloquially known as Phantom.”

“Phantom is Specimen 1-7-2? Fascinating. How does your classification system work? First number is ectoplasmic percentage based, obviously. I’m very curious on how you quantify that. Is it a blood to ectoplasm ratio thing, or – ”

“I’m asking the questions here!” The agent shouted.

Red Robin ignored her. Not his best tactic, annoying the interrogator of the government organization our for genocide without any kind of oversight. “Oh! Let me guess, is the second number a rating of who pisses you off the most? If so, I need to up my game, because I’ll probably need another classification on that scale too.”

The agent straightened. “You think this is a joke? You think you are safe because you are talking in a chair rather than on an examination table like Specimen 4-2-163? Well, let me assure you otherwise.” From her pocket, the agent removed a remote control with a red button that Tim knew didn’t mean anything good. And Tim had the worst hunch that Specimen 4-2-163 was referring to Jason.

The cuffs humming and green lights flickering brighter, was the only warning Tim received before painful volts of electricity were coursing through his body. His body seized with the unwelcome sensation. Pain overwhelmed his synapses.

It lasted an eternity and only seconds, and then it was gone abruptly as it had come. Tim was left gasping for breath.

“Bet you didn’t like that. Though, who knows if you’re faking the pain or not.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “Why the fuck would I fake that?”

The GIW agent ignored him. “Answer my questions.”

“You fried my brains a bit there. I don’t even know what you were asking in the first place.”

There was another shock of electricity coursing through Tim. But not as prolonged as before. The agent took the seat opposite him calmly and leaned her elbows on the table. “Why did we pick up Specimen 1-7-2’s ectoplasm from you?”

“I want my lawyer.”

Another shock. “You have been diagnosed with ectoplasmic poisoning, you don’t have the right to a lawyer.”

Unfortunately, Tim could believe that was true based off of what he’d learned of the Anti-ecto Acts thus far.

The agent took on a sympathetic frown. It wasn’t very convincing. “We’re doing this to help you. You are diseased and don’t realize it. But don’t worry, under our care we’ll be able to cleanse you of the infection.”

“Why do I get the feeling that means I’m not walking out of here alive?” Red Robin sassed.

The agent shook her head. “See, you don’t even realize how much it is poisoning your every thought. Your actions. We can help. Tell us how you came into contact with Specimen 1-7-2.”

“Don’t know. Maybe he possessed me,” Tim shot back.

“No. We have already tested a subject that Specimen 1-7-2 inhabited. The lingering ectoplasmic traces were not so specific.”

“Well then I guess you’re going to have to give up the ghost, because I don’t know,” Tim replied cheekily.

The false sympathy evaporated turning into a vicious scowl. Another shock for Red Robin. Tim should probably start being concerned about permanent nerve damage. “One way or another we’re going to get answers from you, 9-2-1. Whether it’s in here or on a dissection table.”

Tim forced himself not to flinch. This was very, very bad.

Barbara Gordon was often proud of herself for how far she had come ever since a gunshot wound from the Joker paralyzed her legs, ending her career as Batgirl. She pushed through her own grief and depression to build up a whole new persona in Oracle, taking on a responsibility as the eyes in the sky for Batman. Alfred had done his best, but it was clear even in the early days of Oracle when she was still figuring out how to work solely from behind a computer screen, that her new role was not just appreciated, it was needed. Now, her role was more integral than ever as she helped lead not just the Bats, but also the Birds of Prey, and worked frequently behind the scenes for the Justice League.

But sometimes Barbara still felt the occasional bout of helplessness in being wheelchair-bound in her clock tower. Tonight was one of those nights. She had known the instant Jason and Tim had surrendered to the GIW, and yet she hadn’t been able to do anything to help. Sure, she was able to tell the others on patrol their last location, but by the time anyone showed up to help, the GIW were long gone. And despite being so conspicuous once they arrived on scene, the agents were surprisingly adept at vanishing on their retreat.

Barbara had managed to track them into Coventry, but then something had interfered with the camera feeds of the nearby blocks. She wasn’t sure what, only that every camera feed in Coventry began buzzing eerie static that washed her clocktower in green from her computer screens. Nothing she did brought them back online. All she knew was that ten minutes later, the cameras were functioning again, and no sign of a white van anywhere.  Barbara was working through the footage from the districts next to Coventry to find the GIW van’s exit point. But it was like looking for a specific heroin needle in a dumpster (a tedious and difficult task Barbara remembered from her Batgirl days of physically tracking down evidence).

The rest of the vigilantes returned to the cave to reconvene while Barbara continued to work from her clock tower. Batman was conducting his own search of city records for empty buildings that looked like they were recently bought by a government agency or a front organization. And the others were putting their collective deductive skills to work to narrow the contenders down. But Barbara was the one behind the computer screen most of the time. She was the unparalleled hacker of the team. She should be able to find a bunch of government lackeys that stood out in Gotham like a sane person in Wayne manor.

Just as Barbara was about to seriously consider throwing one of her desktops across the clocktower in frustration, a security alert pinged for one of her firewalls. Normally, Babs would let an AI defense she had constructed neutralize the threat on its own, but the hacker made himself known very obviously. On a burner email inbox, an alert came up for a new message from one Dead_Pharoh. And, well, Babs had spent days looking into Dead_Pharoh with Tim to hack firewalls around Amity Park. It could be no coincidence they were reaching out now. Curious and out of ideas, Babs opened the email. All it contained was a request to talk, and a link to an unknown server.

Oracle had not gotten this far by clicking links in shady emails, and she wasn’t about to start now. So, she traced the email address. Much as she expected, it went to a burner email much like her own. However, she was able to investigate the email’s origin to an IP address located in…one of Tim’s safehouses?

A follow-up email followed:

               Hi Oracle,

Big fan, first of all. I should be annoyed you and Red Robin kept me up for several nights straight hacking at my firewalls, but also, kind of a dream to have you testing my software. Second, I know it’s sketchy as hell to send you an email link, so by now you’ve probably noticed I’m reaching out from what I assume is one of Red Robin’s safehouses. I’m sure there’s a camera somewhere in here for you to verify my identity, but my name is Tucker Foley, and I grew up in Amity Park.

Long story short, I know where the GIW took Red Robin and Red Hood. Phantom tracked them down to a railyard the next county over. But their facilities are designed to keep him out. I’ll tell you where they are regardless, but I want to help. If you are willing to collaborate and keep our secrets to yourself, I’ll let you in to Amity Park. I try to stay the hell off the GIW’s radar, but I can also give you the advantage you need to break into their systems.

               Do we have a deal?

               Dead_Pharoh

               40.475575, -74.468010

First thing is Oracle sent the coordinates to the Batcomputer. Even if it was a false report, it was a lead, and therefore worth checking out. Batman would likely be paranoid about her vague text, but she knew at the least Nightwing would rally the others to check it out. Oracle did check the cameras in the safehouse, and was impressed by the portable set-up Foley had going. He had a laptop across his lap where he sat cross-legged on the couch. One of Tim’s energy drinks was opened already on the coffee table. Foley had a tablet to his left plugged in and running some kind of program. On his other side were two phones and one very outdated PDA. A quick facial recognition scan in her software, and the Gotham University database confirmed it was Tucker Foley.

Normally Barbara would want to be more thorough than a surface level check, but she was desperate. It was clear the GIW were a bunch of fanatics. They probably would not hesitate to use any manner of torture, experimentation, or other methods of subduing her teammates. She ran the link through another software program to scan for bugs and tracking code, but it also came up empty.

Fuck it, she thought, and clicked on the link.

Where Oracle expected a messaging server, instead Foley’s link connected her to a voice chat.

“Good evening, Oracle,” an unfamiliar voice greeted through her speakers.

“Dead Pharoh, I presume?” Oracle greeted back.

“Holy shit, you’re a girl?”

Oracle tensed at that. A lot of people underestimated her when they found out she was female, which would usually work in her favor with villains, but it was still disappointing every time. “I do identify by she/her pronouns, but I’m hardly a girl anymore,” Oracle had to force herself not to growl in reply.

Foley continued, “Shit! Didn’t mean to assume, but I totally called it the first time I saw your work! Danny owes me twenty bucks!”

Oracle let herself relax again. “Your friend, Danny Fenton?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry for the rude greeting. Can we start over?”

Oracle suppressed a snort. “Sure. Now, Dead Pharoh, how did you find out about Red Robin and Red Hood’s capture?”

“Would you believe me if I said a ghost told me?”

“A week ago, no. But I’ll take your word for it now.”

On her other comm, Nightwing confirmed that they all were headed to Oracle’s coordinates, except for Signal who would be staying at the manor with Alfred.

“What can you tell me about the standard defenses of the GIW?” Oracle asked.

“I’ll send you what we’ve compiled over the years, but frankly these guys are kind of shit at living security, unless they can lobotomize a ghost to do it for them. They’re really only a problem if you’re dead or undead.” An uplink request from Dead_Pharoh popped up on Oracle’s screen.

Once Oracle confirmed the transfer, she was flooded with files of information on the labeled, “Guys In White” folder. Her mouse hovered briefly over a folder labeled “Former Experiments,” but there would be time to see their criminal evidence later. For now, Barbara clicked instead through the reports on GIW security systems. Anytime they included Fenton tech in their security, there was an extra attachment with the blueprint and specs of the technology. Some of them seemed practical, like energy shields to contain ghosts, while others were clearly invented with the intent to cause pain: shock collars and emitters designed to disrupt a ghost’s resonant frequency. It made Oracle anxious about what she would eventually discover of the GIW’s experiments.

“Red Hood died previously; would these defenses affect him?” Barabara had to ask, even while the thought of Jason being exposed to any of this made her sick to her stomach.

Tucker cursed in the background. A cabinet slammed. His voice came back on clearer when he replied, “Yeah. Most likely. I’ll send you the code to a scrambler I invented. If you can send it to the other Bats and they upload it into the system, it should give them a brief window to get Red Hood out without the defenses affecting him. I’m talking three minutes, max.”

“Once they’re in and Red Hood is located, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“In the meantime, I’ll try skimming what I can of GIW’s servers to see if I can find any updated blueprints for the Railyard. Guarantee the GIW decided to be extra and add subterranean levels.”

Oracle rolled her eyes. “God, these guys really are textbook secret government agency that carries out illegal actions.”

Tucker snickered on the other end of the line. “You don’t know the half of it yet.”

Oracle and Dead_Pharoh fell into silence for a while as they conducted their own work to get the Bats ready for infiltration. Oracle sent what she could to the Bats, but they didn’t have the time to look through everything. Their best bet would be to circumvent whatever normal security measures were available getting in, and then use Tucker’s code to disable everything for the escape.

Tucker only interjected after about ten minutes. “What’s the ETA on the Bats?”

“They’re close. Five minutes. Why?”

Tucker was silent for a moment. Oracle was familiar with the silence as one weighed what information to reveal and what to keep secret.

“I need you to be honest with me,” Oracle prodded. “I am sending my team into an unknown situation based primarily on your knowledge. If you keep stuff from me, I’ll pull them, and we’ll regroup until we have a better plan.”

It was harsh, but Jason and Tim’s lives were already in danger. She was serious about not wanting to risk anyone else.

On her other comm line, the rest of the Bats were prodding Oracle for more information about the Railyard. She ignored them in favor of hearing Tucker’s answer.

Tucker sighed. “Phantom is on scene. He’s staying back, but he might…he might be incapable of staying back much longer.”

Oracle paused in her typing to digest that. “I thought the GIW was especially dangerous for ghosts.”

“They are. But Phantom is…well, he’s protective. And he knows Red Robin and Red Hood are in danger. He reported in that his patience is almost up.”

Well, that was ominous. Oracle was almost afraid to ask what would happen if Phantom’s patience evaporated entirely. “Are you in contact with him now?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Oracle, report,” Batman ordered on the other line.

Oracle cracked her fingers with a spur of the moment decision. It was a risk, but they were flying almost blind into this. The whole mission was risky. She addressed the Bats first. “I’m looping in two allies on the line. One has a tech setup like me. Phantom still on site.”

There were several protests and questions at that, but Oracle wasn’t about to put this to full Bat interrogation and vote when they might be on a time crunch. Time for one of her executive decisions.

“I trust Oracle’s judgement in this matter. You are too lacking in knowledge to adequately stage an attack on these terrorists,” Alfred endorsed.

Oracle grinned. “Thanks, Agent A.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Barbara returned to the conversation with Foley. “Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do, I’m patching you both through on the main comms channel. Codename ‘Pharoh’ okay?”

“W-what? Yes! Yes, of course. But…why?”

“Because I am having two conversations at once, and if we both have boots on the ground it makes more sense to coordinate everyone together.”

Oracle’s fingers were a flurry across her keyboard and she connected Dead_Pharoh’s signals with the main Bat channel. Tucker continued spluttering with disbelief in the background, and Barbara couldn’t help a smile pulling at her mouth listening to him. Tucker Foley was adorable. When all was said and done, she should have a proper coding battle with him. Batman was going to raise hell about it, but he’d deal with it until the mission was over.

With everyone on the same channel, Oracle spoke, “Attention, I’d like to welcome Pharoh and Phantom to the chat. Everyone play nice.”

“You seriously invited interlopers into our private comms?” Robin asked, indignant.

“Yowch, not exactly a warm welcome,” an unfamiliar voice replied. His voice came in with more static than normal.

“Ignore Phantom. Thank you for connecting us, Oracle. I’m Pharoh. And may I just say what an honor – ”

“Oracle, explain,” Robin interrupted.

“We’re combining resources to get our people out, Robin. Play nice.”

“Oracle, explain,” Batman growled on the comm.

Oracle suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Phantom is already on scene. He can’t go in himself, but he and Pharoh can give us the intel we need. It’s a logical teamup, B. You heard Agent A.”

Batman grunted in acquiescent reply.

“B as in Batman?!” Pharoh squeaked.

Robin tsked with disdain.

Spoiler cackled over the comms. “This is going to be awesome!”

Chapter Text

Before Tim was attacked by one ghost and saved by another, Stephanie Brown had given very little thought to ghosts other than the occasional horror movie or sleepover with a Ouija board. But ever since Tim had been infected with so-called “ectoplasm” to heal, all of Gotham’s vigilantes seemed to be paying closer attention to ghosts in general, rather than dismissing them as beings that existed, but not worth investigating further. At first, Steph thought they were all crazy. They had enough trouble with the living to bother with the dead of Gotham.

But Tim was keeping more secrets than usual after having some kind of death magic goo in him, Duke had the constipated look of keeping a secret when he thought no one was noticing, and Oracle was frazzled battling code that could somehow continue to keep her out. Even Alfred seemed weird these days, with more crypticness and less dry wit. And now a top-secret government organization had invaded their city. Steph had already pinched herself multiple times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. As it was, she wasn’t certain she’d been transported into an alternate universe.

Now nearly everyone was on their way to rescue Jason and Tim who had somehow been captured by the shady government assholes. And the worst part? They knew next to nothing about them. Two of their own captured, and the team was flying in basically blind to rescue them. Hearing the elusive Phantom and unknown Pharoh on Oracle’s frequency begin spouting off details about GIW security and patterns were a relief. Even though Steph knew Batman was coiled with tension at the thought of Oracle allowing two unvetted sources onto their frequency. The others weren’t much better, all on the defensive. Robin was angry, Black Bat was silent, Nightwing was cheery but Steph could detect the falseness in it. She recognized his innocuous remarks over comms as his way of probing for information. So, it was up to her to be the friendly one. Again.

As she pulled her cycle into the rendezvous point, Steph made quick work of pulling off her bike helmet and greeting the young man with glowing white hair who was very obviously Phantom from the reports she’d skimmed. She stuck out her hand as she said, “Hi, I’m Spoiler!”

The teenager, who she just noticed was floating a few inches off the ground, clasped Stephanie’s hand with a firm and cool grip. “Nice to meet you. Call me Phantom.” And wow, those were some seriously bright green eyes. Steph had a hard time starting directly at them. She’d never seen Lazarus Green look so kind before.

Batman and Robin had arrived first in the Batmobile and were currently standing off to the side.

Steph pointed back at them with her thumb. “I’m assuming those two have just stood there glaring since they showed up. But that’s Batman and Robin.”

Phantom smiled, bemused. “They’re quite distinctive, so I figured as much. Plus, I’ve seen them before.”

“Right! During Constantine’s failed interrogation. I so wanted to be there for that, but I went to get a snack and next thing I knew, you had come and gone.”

“That’s too bad. It was fun.”

Steph grinned. “RR hinted that you were pranking us, but I didn’t believe it before. Who would have thought Casper has a sense of humor?”

“Spoiler,” Batman growled warningly.

Steph just rolled her eyes.

Phantom groaned. “Why always Casper? There are so many cooler ghosts out there.”

“Hey! We don’t diss Casper in this house!” Spoiler remarked.

Robin huffed. “Tt. You don’t live in our house.”

Before Phantom or Steph could remark on that, Black Bat and Nightwing pulled up on their own cycles.

Spoiler gestured to the two vigilantes dismounting. “Nightwing is in the skintight blue and black. And Black Bat you’ve already met.”

Black Bat waved friendly-like, but was otherwise a silent shadow.

Nightwing grinned with teeth. “Hi, Phantom. Thanks for your help with this. How’d you even track them down?”

“Oh, Lady Gotham showed me.”

Spoiler’s brain screeched to a halt. From the silence from everyone else, she could tell they were equally stunned.

“Who?” Spoiler finally asked.

Danny cocked his head. “You know…Lady Gotham. The city spirit? She calls you ‘her knights’?”

Nightwing began to laugh. “Ahh, good one. City spirit. You almost had me.”

Phantom wrinkled his nose. “I’m not joking. She’s too terrifying to joke about.”

Oracle’s voice interrupted them all. “Good, you’re all there. I’ll defer to Pharoh to talk you through entry points. I’m still trying to parse through their blueprints myself.”

“H-hi,” Pharoh’s unfamiliar voice spoke over comms. “So, the uh…GIW. They, um – ”

Phantom smiled fondly. “Pharoh, just brief it like you would an Amity teamup.”

“I’m not using that language in front of Batman! He’s like the Dad of Gotham!”

Spoiler couldn’t hold in her snickers anymore. She guffawed. “Oh, B, hear that?”

Batman grunted. “Pharoh. Walk us through all entrances to the base.”

“Right. Okay…” Pharoh began to launch into a description of the GIW’s weak points. Unfortunately, for entry and exit points there were not many. This building definitely did not sound up to fire safety standards. Depending on what state they found Red Robin and Hood in, Steph would consider it a pleasure to point out that mistake in practice.

After Pharoh’s briefing, Batman outlined a plan of attack. Phantom was told firmly to stay behind. A decision he did not agree with by the frown on his face, but didn’t argue. Most likely because Pharoh also begged him to stay put with the anti-ecto security measures in place. She’d already heard him caution Phantom once in that exasperated tone that meant he’d already warned him several times previously.

“We’ll get them out safe,” Nightwing promised, placing a hand on Phantom’s shoulder.

Phantom frowned harder. “If…if you see any other prisoners…they might have ghosts trapped there. I won’t be able to leave until they’re out.”

Spoiler didn’t like the sound of that. “Dude, no one likes leaving people behind. But you can’t risk your li– existence by sticking around if you can’t help.”

Phantom shook his head. “It’s not like that. My obsess – “ He choked off. “Look, just know I’m not being a martyr or something when I say I can’t leave until all the prisoners are out.”

“He’s right,” Pharoh spoke up. “Due to Phantom’s nature as a ghost, he physically has to stick around until he knows the prisoners are safe. It’s like a biological imperative for him.”

“Then you’ll be out here to receive anyone we get out. Keep them safe from any agents,” Nightwing affirmed.

“That will be for both ghostly and living victims. Based off what Pharoh has sent me, I think we’ll be finding more than just Red Robin and Red Hood in this base,” Oracle added.

Batman grunted his approval.

“Alright. Comms on, but radio silence unless absolutely necessary. We know our teams. Let’s show these assholes why you don’t mess with Gotham,” Nightwing pepped the group.

“Good luck,” Phantom wished them. “These guys might seem incompetent, but don’t let them surprise you.”

“We’ll get them back,” Spoiler promised Phantom. “And hey, maybe Red Robin can introduce you properly when this is over.” With that, she followed Nightwing to the front entrance. They were considered the most performative members of the Bats which meant Team Distraction for the win.

“Ready, Spoiler?” Nightwing asked as he fiddled with the security on the door as they lingered in the shadowy blind spot Pharoh directed them to in his briefing.

“Let’s fuck ‘em up, boy wonder.”

With matching grins and the distant reprimand from B over the comms of “Language!” Nightwing and Spoiler kicked down the doors to the GIW’s base.

“Alright, assholes, give back the birds and no one gets hurt!” Spoiler exclaimed, probably sounding more like a rogue than the other Bats would prefer. Cut her some slack, her father was Cluemaster. Jason would probably find it funny.

“What she means is, we can do this easy or hard way,” Nightwing corrected, shooting Spoiler a glare.

The few agents at desks startled and immediately reached for glowing green weapons in chrome and silver. Within seconds, the vigilantes were the target of unknown weapons.

“Hard way it is,” Nightwing replied. And then he threw down a smoke bomb. Let’s see their douche-glasses protect them from that! Ha!

Steph focused on the fight, maneuvering through the smoke with ease thanks to the vast experience of fighting in a smokescreen. After quickly disarming the first two agents in front of her, she yelped as a green blast struck her shoulder. It didn’t do anything other than knock her back and singe her uniform, but the fact she had been shot at all was a surprise.

“Are they shooting blind?!” She hissed in the comm.

The smoke was soon lit up with green energy blasts. Over the comms, Pharoh interjected. “Ectoweaponry is non-lethal to the living, but careful, it can still cause up to second degree burns and ecto-poisoning”

Steph removed some Batarangs from her belt and managed to hit a couple of the agents so they dropped the weapons. Across the hall, Nightwing, flipped over a couple agents and raced to the elevator. Spoiler raced to meet Nightwing as the numbers counted down the floors until the elevator dinged.

Nightwing sent his own Batarangs towards the GIW agents to cover her as they both slipped into the elevator and closed the doors.

Nightwing and Spoiler caught their breaths in the momentary reprieve.

“Well. That was eventful,” Nightwing remarked.

“How fussy do you think B’s going to be now that he knows these weapons could give us some kind of radiation poisoning?” Steph remarked idly.

Dick groaned beside her. “Insufferable.”

As per the plan, Nightwing and Spoiler caused as much of a ruckus as possible until Robin reported in that he had reached the Security Room, and identified the levels Red Hood and Red Robin were last seen. Thankfully they were close to one another. Spoiler and Nightwing were closest, so they were headed to free Red Hood from some kind of lab, while Black Bat went lower to rescue Red Robin from an interrogation room. The team’s channel was grim ever since they heard where their teammates were.

Red Hood was scheduled to be in an examination room ahead. With silent communication, Nightwing and Spoiler split to opposite sides of the hallway and approached on stealth. From the lab beyond, they heard panicked voices.

“Idiot! We don’t need those – “

“This is an unprecedented find! The corruption of speciman 4-2-163 is extensive. We could have a potential biological threat to their species.”

“Pack up the blood samples. Even if we can’t transport Specimen  4-2-163, we can still conduct our research.”

“Are the drives downloaded and wiped?”

“Yes. What about specimen 9-2-1? According to the agents’ reports, they found traces matching Specimen 1-7-2’s ectoplasm in him. It’s unprecedented.”

“It won’t matter anyway if we let these Gotham spooks get ahold of us, Doctor!”

Steph had finally made it to the door and peeked cautiously through the door’s window. What she saw made her heart clench in fear, and her blood boil in fury. Unconscious on the table, lay Jason. He was far paler than he should be, nearly white as chalk. She nearly burst down the door in rage when she saw his torso was bare, when she mistook black marker for stitches. It was clear that the Bats had been right to drop everything to take down this base, because Jason was clearly scheduled for some non-consensual surgery. Thank God it appeared his autopsy scar was still uncut. The cuffs keeping his wrists restrained on the bed and the unknown collar around his neck would be a problem though. His hood was still over his face. The agents probably hadn’t figured out how to disarm the apparent bombs inside, even though Jason had long ago removed the danger of them actually exploding.

Steph glanced at Dick and nearly shrunk back, even though the rage radiating off of Nightwing was clearly directed at the GIW scientists within. His entire body was tense and prepped for a fight, escrima sticks already drawn. The line of his mouth was nearly as tight as Batman’s. But it was so much scarier on a properly angry Nightwing. It was easy to forget how intense he could be when usually Steph saw a bright and quippy performer.

“He may still be alive,” Steph reassured.

“Look at those markings. If he is alive still, it is obvious these monsters weren’t intending him to leave him that way.”

And Steph couldn’t disagree with him there.

Nightwing made some sharp hand gestures to lay down a plan of attack. Steph nodded. She was ready to bust some more GIW ass.

Spoiler picked the lock on the door with ease. She probably wasn’t as fast as Nightwing, but she’d been well-trained, and Nightwing looked a little too feral. The element of surprise was key. They couldn’t have any of these scientists escaping with Jason’s bodily fluids. Or Jason himself.

As soon as the door clicked with an unlock, Nightwing slammed his foot, breaking it open and swooping into the room. There were no Robin-esque quips or Nightwing-brand flirtations with danger. Just a hurricane of rage, barreling into the lab.

The scientists began screaming at one another. Spoiler cut off and knocked out anyone who tried to make a break for an exit. A couple of the scientists tried fighting back, bringing out tasers. One did manage to latch onto Nightwing’s back. But he designed his suit with the knowledge he’d be using electric sticks as his primary weapon. Tasers were all but useless against Nightwing unless one managed to make skin contact. Nightwing pulled the scientist with the taser towards him by wires from the weapon. He knocked the assailant out cleanly with a hit to the head.

“Better than you deserve,” he spat as the scientist crumpled.

Spoiler was at Jason’s side as Nightwing took care of the last scientist, pouncing on him as he tried to make a break for the exit. She felt her heart stutter in relief to feel a shallow, but still there pulse.

“Red Hood located and alive,” Steph announced over the comms.

“Understood,” Batman responded, and Steph’s Bat-sense could hear the relief in his voice.  

Spoiler began to inspect the bindings around Jason. “Pharoh, help me out on these ecto-restraints.”

Steph had to admit, Phantom’s hacker buddy kept his head in a crisis. He helped her identify the type of restraints and how to neutralize them with ease. The collar was trickier. Without Pharoh’s help they definitely would have ended up causing harm to Jason when attempting to remove it.

“I’ve seen something like this before, but they’ve clearly updated since then,” Pharoh explained. “They must have added some new features after we found a weakness to exploit in the last version. Give me a minute to search for the schematic to make sure they didn’t add any triggers to cause ecto-destabilization if someone else tries to remove it.”

Meanwhile, Nightwing made sure to guard the door from any other attacks. It was a tense ten minutes until Pharoh got back to them. Especially when he had to take a break to walk Batman through undoing ghost shielding on some cellblocks where they found ghost prisoners.

But finally Pharoh was able to walk Nightwing through removing the cuff while Spoiler took his place guarding the door and knocking out two agents who had come down to the aid of the unconscious scientists. But finally Red Hood was free of his restraints. Unfortunately, he wasn’t waking up. Probably drugged then. And no one wanted to introduce a stimulant to his system without knowing what else the GIW had done to him in the meantime.

“We’re moving out,” Steph told the group, as she collected Jason’s samples. To Nightwing, she said, “You’ll have to carry him though. He’s out like a light.”

Nightwing nodded, and pulled Jason over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Steph grabbed Jason’s stuff laying on a table in the other room. She threw the holstered guns over her shoulder, although tempted to use them against the bastards who had very nearly experimented on one of her people. Instead, she strapped Jason’s back up knives to her legs. Those would certainly come in handy.

“Red Robin located,” Black Bat’s quiet voice announced over comm. “Extracting.”

“Condition?” Batman asked.

“Hurt. Conscious.”

The comms were silent, but Steph knew they were all breathing a sigh of relief. And squaring up to continue the fight. These white-suited psychos were going to pay.

Cassandra Wayne loved being Black Bat. And she loved all the members of her family. But Tim always held a special place in her heart because he had been her first sibling. He was younger than her, but oftentimes felt like they were twins from the way they learned from and understood one another. He taught her how to speak words while she taught him how to read a body. And they marinated comfortably in one another’s silences in a way few others could.

So when she saw her little brother strapped to an interrogation chair that looked like it had electricity wired into the metal cuffs, she nearly brute-forced her way into the locked room without further surveillance.

A white-suited woman screamed at Red Robin. “TELL US WHERE PHANTOM IS!” She demanded, hands slamming on the table.

Red Robin spat at the woman, earning him a slap across the face. Cass’ blood boiled. “Fuck off and die,” Tim returned. It earned him muscle-seizing volts of electricity coursing through him while the agent squeezed a button with impatience.

Cass had seen enough. She would not let her brother be hurt anymore. She kicked down the door of the room, and swiftly launched her attack at the agent, forcing her away from the remote that shocked Red Robin’s chair.

She glimpsed Tim shudder with relief at her entrance. The white-suited woman was less pleased. Her face was an ugly furrow as she glared at Black Bat. “You damn ecto-poisoned spooks! We’ll see you all ended!”

Black Bat didn’t banter like her other siblings. Why bother with words when her fists spoke so well for her? She knocked the strange weapon out of the agent’s hands, and then danced easily into a hand-to-hand struggle with her. It only took a couple minutes until the agent was down and unconscious.

Booby-trapped? Cass signed at Red Robin as she crouched at his chair.

Tim shook his head, breath ragged. “All…clear. Just…tight.”

Cass nodded and made quick work of picking the locks and removing her brother from the chair. She offered to carry him, but as was typical, Tim declined, stumbling to his feet. Black Bat took the opportunity to check in with the family that she had found Red Robin.

As Tim got his bearings, Cass searched the room, humming in delight when she found Tim’s bo staff in a secured cabinet. Very foolish of the agents to leave Red Robin’s weapons in the same room he was captive. But it seemed the GIW were very foolish anyway, messing with what they didn’t understand and relying on luck. She hoped one day soon their luck would run out.

Cass handed Tim his extended bo staff to lean against and draped his other arm over her shoulders. As they hobbled out the door, she scanned her brother for injuries. No bone breaks. But potential bleeding in his abdomen. And certainly, fatigue and nerve damage from the electric shocks. Cass hoped it would be temporary.

“Oth’rs?” Tim asked, as they hobbled.

Black Bat replied by holding out Tim’s communicator that had been stashed with his staff so he could listen in on the Bat channel. He just shook his head. “Did s’methin. Won’t work.”

Black Bat nodded, pocketing the old communicator and instead giving Tim her spare.

“Th’nks.”

“Three agents headed your way, Black Bat,” Robin announced over comms.

Tim groaned next to her.

“Will protect,” Black Bat promised her brother. “Let’s go.”

They moved forward, and just as they rounded the corner where three white suited agents awaited, Damian’s voice came over the comms again, more anxious than before. “Black Bat, three more headed your way from behind!”

Black Bat rolled her shoulders. She’d faced worse odds, but this still wasn’t good. Especially with Tim all but out of commission.

“I’m goin’ to h’ld you back. Leave me,” Tim slurred.

Black Bat didn’t bother to deign that with a response. Just launched herself at the agents ahead. With any luck, they would be dispatched swiftly enough that the ones coming from their rear wouldn’t be a threat.

“Where is Black Bat and Red Robin? We can intercept,” Nightwing offered.

“Nightwing, you will have to go further down to rendezvous with Black Bat and Red Robin. Should you not focus on Red Hood’s rescue?” Robin asked.

“We can’t let her face them alone!” Spoiler insisted.

Phantom’s voice – who had mostly been silent other than to confer with Batman to earn the captured ghosts’ trust – crackled over the comms, “What’s the status on the security system?"

“Almost down. Robin is currently taking Pharoh’s instructions to bring down the main system. Only the magical barriers will remain,” Oracle explained.

“Let me know the instant it’s down,” Phantom insisted. His voice was adamant enough even Batman didn’t interject. Good. Tim needed someone strong to support him. And Tim and Danny were very cute together.

“No,” Red Robin slurred. “The magic – ”

“Red Robin!” multiple voices on the channel exclaimed.

“No offense, Birdie, but you sound like a breeze could knock you over. Your concern is noted, but believe me when I say I can handle a couple prickly wards,” Phantom interrupted.

Black Bat disarmed and knocked out one agent while dodging green blasts from their guns. She’d already had her suit singed by one of them earlier. She knew Phantom wouldn’t make it in time. She let herself tune out her family reporting in the background, her attention on the fight.

Red Robin gestured for Black Bat to lure one of the agents close to him. She frowned but complied. After taking care of a second agent, she pressed the third agent towards Tim. She attempted a kick to the legs, and with the agent’s focus on their feet, they didn’t notice Red Robin creeping unsteadily behind them, bo staff extending and knocking across their head with a thwack!

Black Bat held up a fist for a bump, which her brother tiredly returned.

“Leave quickly,” Cass signed.

Tim nodded, leaning on his staff.

Of course, that was when it all went wrong. Cass was focused on adjusting Tim’s arm so he could lean against her again, and she thought the agents in pursuit of them were farther away. But she had miscalculated.

The sound of a GIW weapon discharging was the only warning Cass had before Tim shoved her away. Black Bat fell and rolled onto the floor, displacing the weight so as not to injure herself. She rolled into a crouch, just in time to see two green blasts at the end of taser wires hit Red Robin in the side. And then the air was alive with green lightning as the weapon emitted a shock that had her brother seizing. He wailed, screaming loud enough to echo through the hallways. Tim fell to the ground, bo staff falling from his grip and rolling to Cass’ feet.

Phantom’s voice growled on the comms, “What was that? Was that Red Robin?”

The other vigilantes on the line demanded answers too. Black Bat didn’t answer them.

Cass looked up at the agents instead, fury surging within her. In an instant, batarangs were in her fingers, and she tossed them with deft precision and enough force to maim. Maim, but never kill. Three of the four batarangs struck true. One went to the shoulder of the GIW agent with a gun, another to their opposite hand, knocking the weapon out of their grip. Another hit just under the collarbone of another agent, while a final batarang clattered uselessly against a wall. The final agent was unharmed, dodging the weapon. He pulled out his own weapon – a Cass recognized from another agent that formed green blasts.

As Cass pulled another batarang from her belt, she rushed at the agent. He didn’t hesitate to shoot, but Black Bat could tell where the agent was going to shoot. A perk of knowing the meaning in each infintessimal tick of a muscle. She dodged two blasts before roundhouse kicking the gun out of the agent’s hand.

“Ectoscum!” the agent spat. He pulled out a baton coated lime green in what was probably ectoplasm.

Cass slammed the batarang into the man’s arm, and then kicked at him.

The agent screamed in pain. He managed to roll away from Cass’ kick, giving him enough leverage to make his own jab at her shin. Cass suppressed a grunt from what would probably end up a nasty bruise.

They fought a few more moments, but Cass soon gained the upper hand. The GIW agents might have decent training, but there were few people in the world who matched Cass’ fighting skill. With the agents fallen, Cass made quick work of checking herself over and then racing to Tim’s side.

Tim had stopped seizing, but he was still shaking. And he was unconscious. Black Bat swallowed back the sour taste of anger building in her throat. She collected Tim’s bo and collapsed it. Then began to lift Tim into a carry.

That was when Phantom flew around the corner. Black Bat must have missed when Robin and Pharoh brought down the main security of the building during the fight. Phantom’s eyes widened at the scene, taking in the fallen agents and then zeroing in on Tim.

“Is he…?”

“Alive. Unconscious. Hurt. Saved me.” Cass signed briefly, unaware if Phantom could even understand her. But words were hard and she had to focus on getting out of here.

Thankfully, Phantom nodded, signing back, “I’ll carry him.”

Phantom quickly swooped his arms under Tim’s knees and back to pull him into a bridal carry. Cass let herself sag now that she no longer had to support her brother’s weight.

Phantom emanated a whine and the sound of ice cracking from his chest. Hie eyes completely focused on looking Red Robin over, whine intensifying with every injury he cataloged.

“We should go,” Cass spoke aloud to capture Phantom’s attention.

Phantom’s very green eyes snapped towards her. She could see Danny in the expression as well as something more. It was simultaneously hard to imagine how few ever-connected Phantom and Danny Fenton, but also easy to see the mistake. Phantom was definitely far more than human, even though Cass could sense he was still hiding much of his power underneath the teenage ghost form. A shiver ran through her as the air chilled around them.

“Right. Let’s go,” Phantom replied back. He flew quickly through the hall, but still slow enough for Cass to sprint after him. She was glad he hadn’t argued. Her throat felt too tight for words.

“Phantom here. Found Black Bat and Red Robin. Red Robin unconscious. He will need medical attention. Making our way out.”

“What happened?” Batman demanded, strained gravel in his voice. It sounded angry, but Cass knew it was just his worry for Tim.

Phantom looked to Cass. She shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. Red Robin’s heartbeat was erratic and he still couldn’t stop shaking. He was so pale. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Cass was supposed to save Tim, not let him sacrifice himself for her.

“I don’t know,” Phantom replied. “But I think he got injured saving Black Bat.”

The comms were silent. The rest of the Bats knew exactly how likely such a scenario could be. Tim was always quick to sacrifice himself for others.

Pharoh broke the silence first. “From the feed Robin sent, your way should be clear the rest of the way, Phantom.”

“Thanks, Tu – Pharoh,” Phantom replied.

Cass and Phantom ducked into the elevator. The air was thick with an uncomfortable silence as they rode it back to the lobby. Thanks to her family’s earlier and ongoing efforts to distract the remaining GIW agents, Cass, Phantom and Tim made it through the trashed lobby of the GIW base without further incident. The whole time, guilt and concern stifled Cass. And anger. So much anger.

The Ghost Investigation Ward had hurt her brothers. And they would pay.

The air smelled of smoke and rusting steel of the railyard in the cool night air. The remains of the GIW base still smoldered from the explosion Robin had triggered. Batman seemed mad, but the rest of the Bats had shown their support to the young vigilante with good-natured ribbing and hair ruffles that had Robin hissing like a feral cat. Phantom might have joined in, but he was busy in the aftermath of the raid. He could only watch briefly over Red Robin as his family packed him away in the Batmobile. Danny wanted to pluck a core piece from his chest again to heal whatever had happened in the GIW’s base. His insides warred with fury and guilt. This shouldn’t have happened to Tim. The only reason Tim had gotten mixed up with the GIW was because of Phantom. And even worse, at some point his core had identified Tim Drake-Wayne as one of his. The protective urge to fuss over the unconscious vigilante was strong. His core couldn’t stop whining with concern.

Other matters inevitably drew Phantom’s attention. The raid had released a lot of captive ghosts. Mostly shades who were starving or wounded, desperate for whatever pure ectoplasm Danny could spare. And some of the captives were Realms ghosts who ended up on the wrong side of the veil. They were weakened from starvation and would need to be brought home. So as much as Danny wanted to fuss over Red Robin – the man Danny’s human side was beginning to like, yet ghost half had already claimed – he could not. He would need his core fully intact to ensure his subjects made it to safety. Phantom turned away and returned to his people.  He left the few civilians the GIW had kidnapped in Nightwing and Robin’s care; people who had an experience near enough to death to have enough trackable ectoplasm within them. Nothing on the scale of Red Hood, but then again Red Hood seemed to be a rare case.

Danny conversed with Tuck on a new private channel as he soothed shades and spirits alike. Somehow one of Nocturne’s Baku – a Japanese nightmare eater – had gotten caught in the GIW’s clutches and was gravely wounded. His relationship with the Ancient of Dreams was already tenuous, and Danny knew if he let one of those under Nocturne’s domain End, he would be facing trouble in his court. Not to mention he’d probably lose what little peaceful sleep he managed to get.

The night sky was just starting to lighten with morning’s sunrise when Danny finally finished fixing those he could and sending them on their way, and portaling back those who belonged into the Realms as dawn’s rosy fingers just poked over the horizon. Tucker had mostly helped brief Oracle on his GIW files, and helped the Bats with logistics for the living people they’d rescued. But by dawn, he was chatting idly with Danny as he sent the last of the shades loose.

“I’m going to check on Red Robin,” Danny told Tucker as he flew back to Gotham. “Go ahead and get some sleep, Tuck.”

“Please tell me you’re joking. The GIW will be scrambling to find you and the Bats more than ever now. We need to disappear ASAP.” Tuck replied. “We should warn Red Hood too. No doubt they have his ecto-signature locked down now.”

Danny sighed, “I have to, Tuck. I…I can’t…”

Silence from Tuck on the other end. He knew his best friend was just worried about him. About them both. Trying to figure out the best balance of staying out of danger while also letting Danny’s core fulfill its urges.

In the meantime, Danny looking at the city of orange and green-yellow glow (the air quality may not be healthy, but it certainly gave the city a cool aesthetic from far away). He didn’t think he’d ever come to consider Gotham home, but it held a special place in his heart all the same. “I don’t want to leave,” he admitted.

“…Go check on your Bat, Phantom. We’ll discuss it later. Tuck out,” His best friend finally replied.

Having been there a couple times now, Danny recognized the way to the Batcave. He didn’t bother going through the manor above, but Alfred did meet him at the threshold of the cave.

“Good evening, King Phantom.”

Danny inclined his head at the ghost. “I’m here to see Tim.”

“He is in surgery currently.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were their medic.”

“Medic is a far cry from surgeon or doctor,” Alfred replied. “Leslie Thompkins is a trusted ally.”

Danny nodded. After all, Alfred would know his Fraid best. “May I see him?”

“As long as you do not interfere.” Alfred stared at Danny with dark red eyes that just barely glowed. “I would ask that you let him recover naturally this time unless he becomes critical. I suspect further time with your core will subject him to liminality.”

Danny half-smiled at the ghost. “I get it. Protective instinct. You want your charges alive, not with a foot in the grave.”

“Precisely.”

“Probably for the best. I…If I never gave him my core piece in the first place, he wouldn’t – ”

“My King, I do not blame you for the events of this evening. Without your previous aid, I fear what would have become of Timothy. If anything I am thankful for all you have done. You aided my family to recover my stolen grandchildren this evening. Thank you, I am in your debt again.”

Danny smiled wryly. “No debts, I would have done it anyway. I care for them.”

Alfred inclined his head. “Indeed. Do you seek a claim on them?”

Danny had to pause at the question. He hadn’t expected it. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ll have much say in it. My core has grown fond of Tim. If I did – ”

“Then I will not be opposed. If anything I am honored my King seeks to protect members of my Fraid. But be warned that should you choose to court Master Tim, the rest of the family is a great deal more territorial. And I would prefer if no further core lending was attempted.”

Danny nearly choked at Alfred’s bluntness of Danny’s crush. “I can agree to that. I’ve never attempted multiple loans of a core piece to the same person. And I’m sure my doctor would not recommend it.”

“Then I expect such advice heeded. Come with me.”

Invisibly, Alfred led him to the Batcave’s medical bay. From above, Danny watched as a middle-aged woman expertly stitched up the wounds in a sedated Tim’s side. For the next couple hours, he floated restlessly above as the doctor finished her work and left. After the operation, a Bat was always at Tim’s bedside. Nightwing cried and held his brother’s hand before falling asleep, leaning over the bed. Robin watched with an intensity that looked detached on the outside, but Danny could feel the worry, love, and fury that accompanied a loved one being hurt. In the brief moments he could slip away from his own medical room, Red Hood watched the unconscious vigilante with protective intensity. The rotten ectoplasm surged underneath, likely a result of whatever the GIW had been done to bring it to the surface. It’s single-minded rage at those who had harmed Red Hood was probably the only reason the undead vigilante hadn’t sensed him.

Batman hovered silently in the doorway for ten minutes, just watching as Tim slept. Then switching to the next room over to stare at Red Hood. Worry, fear, relief, and guilt roiled underneath in a tightly held bundle. The strain of Batman’s contained emotions were almost painful just feeling secondhand. Danny had to wonder how the mysterious vigilante kept them under such tight strain all the time without exploding.

Much like Batman, Robin stared at Tim, radiating worry and love for his brother. And a whole lot of tightly coiled anger towards those who had injured him. Danny could relate. Also the sour tang of insecurity and guilt. He deposited a cat on Tim’s stomach before leaving, reassuring, “Alfred will watch over you in my absence.”

The other visitors were Spoiler, Signal, and Black Bat. Black Bat did nothing but hold Tim’s hand when she visited, while Spoiler rambled about anything that seemed to come to mind. Most of it humorous and over-dramatized, likely meant to bring a smile to Tim’s face if he were conscious. Signal was somewhere between the two, a calming presence who filled the stillness around Tim’s bed with quiet conversation about idle topics like school and funny moments from his daytime patrols.

Tim remained unconscious, but at times he would mutter or blink his eyes as if he were fighting to wake, but ultimately returned to the throes of sleep. Spoiler in particular told Tim to “just rest and let yourself heal, you fucking idiot.”

During a shift change where Batman kicked everyone out to go eat Alfred’s breakfast, the older vigilante sat at Tim’s side and typing intently on his tablet. He stepped out of the room when an alert from somewhere else in the cave drew Batman’s attention, and Danny took his chance when Batman swept from the room.

Danny floated down to Tim’s side and let himself be tangible, even if not visible. He held Tim’s hand. He was reassured when he felt the warmth of the living and a slight twitch of the hands as his nerves recognized new sensory input.

“You tried to sacrifice yourself,” Phantom spoke to Tim. He huffed a laugh. “It’s going to be incredibly hypocritical of me, but you should not do that ever again.” His core hummed Ghost speak of Mine. Good thing Tim was asleep. He had no idea if Tim was able to hear his core anymore or if he ever could. But he bet Tim would definitely consider it weird for a virtual stranger to claim him metaphysically.

Danny sighed. “I’m not sure if it’s me or it’s the fact I lent my core to you, but something about you draws me in, Tim. And I’m scared. Knowing Bat paranoia, you’d probably be terrified if you knew. I should leave; stay away from you.”

Danny squeezed Tim’s hand. “Thing is, I really don’t want to.” He chuckled. “When you rescued me in your stolen Batmobile, I was already thinking of asking you on a date. Coffee or something. As if we could both pretend to be normal twenty-one-year-olds, not…not us. It will never be able to be simple or normal with us, will it?”

Danny could feel the tangle of Batman’s brooding emotions incoming. Danny’s time was just about up.

“Either way, I’ll need to get away for a bit. Probably talk Red Hood into leaving too. It’s too risky with the GIW. I’ll…”

“D’nny?” Tim mumbled. He didn’t open his eyes, but his hand squeezed Danny’s weakly.

Danny just smiled softly, and then placed a quick kiss on Tim’s forehead. “Bye, Birdie.”

And with that, Danny extracted his hand from Tim’s. As Batman re-entered the medical bay, he floated up and through the ceiling to the next level. He ended up floating in a kitchen where Alfred was currently adding some ingredients to a soup pot.

“Satisfied?” the butler asked without turning around.

Phantom sighed. “As much as I can be considering his condition. I’m sorry, I never meant for your Fraid to be tangled up in all this.”

Alfred hummed, choosing his words carefully it seemed. His core emanated worry for the charges under his care. “It worries me, but I would rather they aid you to end the vile organization who took those dear to me, rather than continue in ignorance.”

“Thank you, Alfred. If it helps, I’m working on Red Hood’s situation. If he agrees, I’ll take him to the Realms to be checked out and lay low. So don’t worry if you don’t hear from him in the next few days.”

“Thank you, King Phantom.”

Danny smiled. “All part of my responsibility. What about you? If the GIW manage to trace Red Hood and Red Robin back here, you’re powerful enough they’ll find you.”

Alfred shook his head. “This is my haunt. I won’t abandon it or my Fraid because of trigger-happy bureaucrats.”

Danny nodded, unsurprised. All too often he had watched ghosts deny help for the sake of their obsession. There was little he could do without commanding Alfred, and he had determined from the beginning that he wasn’t going to be that sort of king.

“If it eases your worry, I do have some protections in place to mask ghostly presences.”

Danny gave the butler a small smile. “That’s more than many of my subjects. Thank you, that does put my mind somewhat at ease. Your Fraid is lucky to have you.”

Alfred’s core hummed in gratitude, and…guilt? Probably because of the secrets he was keeping from them. But that wasn’t Danny’s business. “May I offer you anything before you leave, King Phantom?”

Danny shook his head. “Don’t want to lead the GIW here anymore than I already will.”

“Very well then. Good luck.”

“Same to you, Alfred.” Danny departed the Batcave with a melancholy core, but he was determined to push past it. Red Robin was in capable hands, and Phantom had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Many hours later, Bruce Wayne sat at the Batcomputer staring at the footage from the raid on the GIW base. His eyes were zeroed in on Tim from Black Bat’s perspective. The way he pushed her to the side and absorbed the blast from an unknown ray. Pause. Replay. He knew he was torturing himself; any useful information from the scene he would have already noted in the first twenty replays. But he couldn’t stop. Seeing his kids hurt always sent him into a spiral. Tim was still bed-ridden, although he’d regained consciousness. Leslie said he might have permanent nerve damage. And Jason had left about an hour ago as soon as he’d been cleared. Back to Crime Alley, away from the safety of the Cave.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice barely breached Bruce’s awareness.

He grunted in response, throat feeling too tight for words.

“If I might have a word? There is a matter of great import I wish to discuss. A discussion I should have had with you a long time ago.”

Bruce hit replay on the feed again. Watched his children fling themselves into danger. Winced as Tim was hit and fell. Pause. Replay.

“Master Bruce, are you listening?”

Words were still choked in Bruce’s throat. “Not…not now, Alfred,” he replied.

Silence. Then a heavy sigh. “Very well, Master Bruce. Later.”

He heard the butler’s steps fade away back to the elevator until he couldn’t hear them at all.

Pause. Replay.

Chapter Text

Jason was finally back to recovering in one of his safehouses after thirteen torturous hours kept under observation in the Batcave’s medical bay. Okay, maybe they weren’t that bad. But the hovering of various family members had gotten damn annoying quick. Not to mention he was finding it hard to stay on bedrest. His Pit rage seethed at the GIW bastards who’d nearly sliced him open and injured his little brother. Potentially with permanent nerve damage according to Dr. Thompkins. Green pulsed in Jason’s vision whenever he stood at the edge of Tim’s recovery bed, hovering with barely contained fury. He thought he had felt Phantom’s presence briefly during this time, but he was so busy keeping his anger at bay, he couldn’t focus on it. Either way, Tim was apparently recovering well, enough to wake up and ask about a couple of civilians. That was when Jason left.

Jason stowed his helmet and guns as he entered the apartment, keeping one on him in case of intruders. He pulled said gun when he saw a figure in the middle of his living room. It was the last person Jason expected to see in his safehouse: the white-haired ghost boy, Phantom. Though, he didn’t look much like a boy anymore. Phantom had filled out into a well-toned young adult. His hazmat suit replaced with something far less cheesy. In fact, with his star-studded cape and dark armor, he almost looked like the king he claimed to be.

“Hi, Hood,” Phantom greeted. “Glad to see you’re alright.”

Jason stared at the boy. “How’d you find me?”

Phantom snorted. “Helped the Bats save your ass from the GIW and this is the thanks I get?”

“Thanks. How’d you find me?”

Phantom shrugged. “Followed your ecto signature. Ghost sense.” He wiggled his fingers.

Concerning. Jason would have to figure out how to mask that.

Phantom leaned against the windowsill. “Did you get to speak with Red Robin before you left?”

Jason raised a single eyebrow. “So I did feel you in the Batcave. I was wondering.”

Phantom shrugged. “I did see him briefly. He wasn’t awake by the time I left though.”

“I talked to him some. He’s in pain, but won’t admit it. Worried about you. Why don’t you go bother him again instead? You two can worry over one another and leave me out of it.”

Phantom flushed, green tinting his cheeks. Huh, perhaps there was something going on between his brother and the ghost boy after all. Jason had thought it was more one-sided on Tim’s part, but apparently not. “I…no. It’s better if I leave him be. I’ve already gotten him in enough trouble.”

Jason snorted. Tim would find trouble one way or another, but he recognized the martyring tone too well in Phantom’s voice to bother arguing with him. “So, you’re going to get me in trouble instead? Thanks,” Jason deadpanned.

Phantom huffed and rolled his eyes. “You are full of rotten ectoplasm I promised to help with. Totally different.”

“Sure.” Jason checked through his fridge, mentally composing a grocery list for this safehouse. Especially if he was going to finish recuperating here. He’d want some comfort food. “So, visit your ghost doctor?”

“Yep. He advised I give you some pure ecto transfusions to begin the filtration process, but he’d rather you come visit the Realms yourself for a proper checkup.”

“Hm. Maybe. When were you thinking?”

“How about er…now?” Phantom winced.

Jason slammed the fridge door and stared at Phantom incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, listen! It makes sense. The Bats may have cleared you to be physically fine, but this way Frostbite can make sure the GIW didn’t do any lasting damage to your core either.”

“They never dissected me. I was rescued before then.”

“The GIW can harm you in other ways besides dissection.”

Jason sighed. “I can’t just up and leave for days to visit some unknown dimension. I’ve got responsibilities here. And Roy will kill me again if I go off world without telling him again.”

“Then text him. But time is weird in the Realms and I can get us back tomorrow if you’re really so concerned about it. I’d rather have us be gone at least a few days though for the GIW to call off the ghosthunt.”

“What do you mean by time is weird? Some kind of Fey Realms shit?”

“Was that a Dungeons and Dragons reference? How is Red Hood such a nerd?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Answer the question, ghostboy.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of like the Fey Realm. Thankfully, you’ll be traveling with me. Even if we stay there for a month, we can come back to only a matter of days passing here. Any more time than that and CW might come down on me. He gets bitchy when I ask for too big of a time dilation.”

“Uh-huh. And CW is…”

“Ancient of Time.”

“Like a god?”

Phantom shrugged. “Yes and no. Think of him like the guy above all the other time gods. While also partly being those time gods, but also not.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Welcome to my afterlife.” Phantom shuffled. “So…ready to go?”

“Oh you mean now now.”

Phantom shrugged. “Better late than ever. I’m kind of trying to skip town at the moment while the GIW tries to hunt me down. Better for you as well to be…not here.”

“Fine. Just…let me call someone.” Jason grabbed his primary phone from his pocket. It was easy to place a call to Roy Harper, former Speedy, former Red Arrow, and now Arsenal.

“Harper Residence!” The voice of Lian, Roy’s daughter, chirped after only one ring.

“Hey, sweetheart. Your Dad around?” Jason asked.

“Uncle Jay!” Lian exclaimed, causing Jason to wince. Phantom smirked as he watched, mouthing “Uncle Jay?”

Jason turned away from the ghost boy. He had to put up with enough smugness from his brothers. He didn’t need it from an undead king too.

“When are you coming to visit? Are you coming now? Pleaaaase! I won’t tell Dad. It can be a surprise!”

Jason chuckled. “Maybe in a few days. I’ve got…a doctor’s appointment.”

Lian huffed. “Liar. It’s the weekend.”

“Special doctor, sweetie. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”

Lian huffed. “You better,” followed by the sound of scuffling.

“Hiya, Jay!” Roy’s voice greeted. “What’s up?”

“Consider this my mandatory notice of traveling off-world,” Jason replied. “Should be back in a few days. Supposedly. If it’s been more than a month, tell Tim I’m with Phantom.”

“What the f – fridge, man?! You’re going off world? Where? And what kind of timeframe is that?! Please tell me you’re not making me Point of Contact for if you disappear for a month. Dick wouldn’t leave me alone for DAYS last time – ”

Jason hung up. He turned back to Phantom who seemed inordinately amused by the whole conversation. And he was now holding up Jason’s thickest winter coat. Where had he even found that?

“You’re as bad as I am. Making friends worry more when you tell them not to worry.”

“Why do you have my coat?”

“We’re going to the Far Frozen. And I’d rather you not freeze to death before you ever meet Frostbite.”

Jason had more questions, but he had a feeling Phantom’s answers would do little more than spawn even more questions. He snatched his coat out of Phantom’s hands and shrugged it on. “And what about yours?”

Phantom grinned and tapped his sternum. There was a brief flash of blue light emanating from it. “Ice core. I’m immune!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Sounds fake, but I’m too tired to fight it. Let’s just go.”

Phantom chuckled. “Very well.” His white-gloved hand transformed into long black claws with an especially pronounced pointer finger. Right in front of them, he ripped through the air, a streak of green glowing light following his finger as he trailed down as if he were unzipping reality.

The green line expanded into a swirling green disc large enough for them both to walk through. “After you,” Phantom gestured.

Jason took a deep breath as he stared at the swirling green light that reminded him viscerally of Lazarus Pit. Speaking of, the Pits in him hissed with displeasure. Something even deeper within Jason hummed with delight. Altogether it made Jason want to flee and never come back to this safehouse.

“Need a push?” Phantom asked.

“No,” Jason replied hoarsely. And before he could talk himself out of it, he braced himself and stalked into the portal.

When Jason opened his eyes on the other side, he nearly fell over to see himself floating in place. All around him was a black void with swirling green energy. He thought he could see purple stars amidst the void, but as the world came into focus, he could see the close ones were in the shape of doors of all styles and sizes. Even further in the distance, larger shapes that looked to be floating islands in the groundless space.

“Welcome to the Infinite Realms!” Phantom announced, zipping up the portal behind them. “What do you think?”

“This is where the dead go?” Jason asked. The place was totally unfamiliar; not that Jason remembered much of his time between dying and digging himself out of his own grave. But the Pits in his chest seemed to be churned up by the very air.

Next to him, Phantom was glitching again. Just like in Jason’s apartment a few days back when he’d fed the ghost pancakes and gotten some answers and a whole lot more questions.

“Eh…some. It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason remarked. “Are you okay? Your whole…everything…is acting weird.”

Phantom sighed. His hand brushed through his hair that warped as he combed it. The hand momentarily turning into ice-blue claws then they were white gloved hands again. “What you’re seeing is a more muted form of mine. The Realms doesn’t like it too much. It wants me to be in my king form instead. So it’s harder to keep it wrapped up right now.”

Jason tried not to flinch as Phantom’s face glitched into a black void while he spoke, before glitching back to normal. He wasn’t about to touch on that. He didn’t need eldritch madness on top of the Pits. He switched topics. “The doors?”

“Oh, those go to various haunts, dimensions, universes, you name it… Kind of like Captain Marvel’s Magic Rock Cave, or whatever it’s called… In fact, somewhere in this place is a door that will take me there.”

Jason looked at a door that looked like an elevator. He reached out a hand to press the button, wondering if it would work, but Phantom slapped his hand away. “Don’t even think about it. Very rude to enter another ghost’s haunt without asking. And even if they let you in, who knows what danger lurks beyond. Don’t touch anything unless I say so, mmkay?”

Jason scowled.

“Good. Now take my hand.”

“Why?” Jason asked, cautiously.

Phantom rolled his eyes. “Because the Far Frozen isn’t anywhere close to here, and I’d rather it not take a week to get there.”

“You can’t just portal us there?”

Phantom hummed. “It’s not that easy. I technically can, buuuut the Realms won’t like it if I fold them that way to do so. Much better if I just fly us there.”

Jason was doubtful. It seemed Phantom was just making up these rules as he went along, but he also wasn’t going to question the supposed king of this freaky dimension. “Fine. But you better not brain me into one of these doors like a Looney Tunes cartoon.”

Phantom smirked. “Now why would you go putting an idea like that in my head?” And then a tug of Jason’s wrist and they were off.

The Realms compressed around them like faster than light speed in a bad sci fi movie. But instead of stars warping around them, it was streaks of green and purple, swirling like a bad acid trip. Most disorienting of all, the Infinite Realms didn’t seem to have any air, for there was nothing hindering them as they flew. As if they truly were in a frictionless void.

“I’m going to be sick,” Jason muttered.

“Please wait until after we stop,” Phantom answered. “Really don’t want to deal with cleaning up vomit from someone’s island today.”

Somehow – despite the roiling of Jason’s stomach – he managed not to expel the contents of his stomach. Which would have been a waste of perfectly good Alfred soup.

When Phantom finally slowed them to a stop after what felt like hours later. In front of them lay a huge island with a mountain a size Jason hadn’t seen encountered since the last time he had been in the Himalayas. It was a completely snow-covered peak, and the ground around it was also covered in a white, winter blanket. Even out here, small flakes drifted around them, seemingly from nowhere.

Jason shivered as his body began to register the cold. Even with his thickest jacket, it bit his skin.

“Welcome to the Far Frozen, domain of Chief Frostbite and all those under his care.”

“Frostbite…Your doctor?”

Phantom nodded. “He’s a ghost of many talents. Come on, let’s get you to the village. They keep their buildings warmer than the rest of the island.”

Jason felt another shiver travel down his spine and limbs. His teeth were already chattering. “What kind of ghost chooses such a hostile climate for an eternal afterlife?” He complained.

Phantom’s brow furrowed his brow. “I would think that would be obvious… Wait, I did tell you Frostbite is a – ”

“GREAT ONE!” A voice boomed from nearby, drowning out the rest of Phantom’s reply.

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t sensed someone approaching at all. And he definitely should have noticed the ten-foot-tall beast flying towards them. All white fur, blue glowing horns, and arms that looked strong enough to pop Jason open with the ease he could pop a bag of potato chips. And one of those arms looked like it was carved straight from a block of glacial ice!

“Frostbite!” Danny greeted. His form glitched even more as he flew towards the yeti. Jason thought for sure they were about to embrace, but instead the ghost boy tackled the ghost three times his size, pushing them both into a snowbank of the island below.

Jason lurched to help when he watched the white ghost bare a mouth of sharp teeth and fling Phantom off like a rag doll into another snowbank. Jason only paused when he saw Phantom shake off the attack with a laugh. Phantom glitched again before an icy morningstar materialized in his right hand. He swung it towards Frostbite, who dodged the attack with more nimbleness than his lumbering form betrayed.

Frostbite laughed too, deep and booming like the rumble of an avalanche. “Pandora will be pleased to see you manifesting an expanded range of weaponry.” The giant ghost deflected another attack with his ice-encased arm.

The attacks between the two of them increased in pace until they were a blur of white, black, and blue that Jason knew he couldn’t even hope to keep up with. It was like watching two supers go toe to toe. Well, assuming one super was toddler size compared to the other. And the toddler was winning.

The fight ended with Phantom’s legs locked around Frostbite’s neck. The ice-made Morningstar lay abandoned in a snowdrift. Both of them were laughing.

“Give in yet?”

“I yield to you this time, My King. Your skills are developing admirably,” Frostbite praised.

Danny uncurled his legs and drifted off the back of the giant, white-furred ghost.

“I brought you the guy I was concerned about for a checkup. If you have the time.” Danny introduced, “This is Red Hood. Red Hood, meet Frostbite, Chief of the Far Frozen, Advisor to the King’s Council, and my personal doctor.”

Frostbite put his icy fist to his chest and gave Jason a slight bow. “I am honored to make the acquaintance of another of the Great One’s friends. A pleasure, Sir Red Hood. Your case has intrigued me ever since Phantom brought it before me. I will certainly make time for this unexpected appointment.”

Jason cautiously mimicked the bow, hoping it was the correct response. “Uh, likewise, Sir Frostbite. You can just call me Hood though. Or Jason.”

“I am not a knight, so no ‘sir’ is required. Most call me Chief Frostbite in formal settings. But you may just call me Frostbite.”

“Okay, why does the yeti you just met get to know your name before I do?” Phantom complained.

Jason stared. “You mean Tim hasn’t told you yet? You haven’t figured it out?”

“Figured out what? Your civilian identity? No way, man, I take that stuff seriously. I used to be a vigilante myself.”

Jason turned to Frostbite. “Wait, you’re a yeti?!” He exclaimed.

The larger ghost chuckled. “Seems as if the Great One continues to leave one bereft of information. Fear not, we are attempting to train his communication skills to be more transparent.”

“Hey! I am plenty transparent!” Phantom demonstrated this by shifting into a semi-invisible state with a grin.

Frostbite and Jason rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Jason knew right then that he and this yeti ghost were going to get along great.

“Come along. You most likely want to warm up. I will have Thundersnow prepare some hot ecto-coa while we adjourn to one of the observation rooms.”

The yeti led them through white expanse, Jason’s teeth chattering all the way as his fingers and toes turned numb. He wondered how far they would have to travel until they were abruptly in a village square. Somehow the buildings had been so well camouflaged he hadn’t even noticed the village until they were in it, and he heard the tinkle of windchimes and saw lights in doors and windows of what looked like snowbanks at first glance.

Jason gaped as he realized he was actually looking at wooden structures camouflaged underneath the snow, rising out of the ground as if they truly were part of the landscape.

“How is it so well hidden? Magic?” Jason asked.

Danny snickered. “It shouldn’t come as any surprise to you that yetis are masters of camouflage. They’ve gone virtually undiscovered in our world for ages.”

As Jason wrapped his head around that, he felt a strange humming in his chest. All around him, it seemed the stillness of the snow was actually whispering. It should be eerie, but instead it filled him with some kind of warmth. Various other yeti ghosts – none as large as Frostbite – stared with smiles as their trio made their way past.

“What am I feeling?” Jason whispered.

“What? Is something wrong with your core?” Danny asked, concerned.

“Fear not, Sir Jason. That is merely my brethren welcoming you to our village,” Frostbite answered instead.

“Oh. Should I…how do I say thank you?”

“Merely feel gratitude well up in your chest, and the ectoplasm in you should convey the rest,” Frostbite answered.

They stopped in front of the larger buildings of the village, made purely of stone apart from the large, oak and iron-bound door. “This is our medical facility.” Frostbite opened the doors, and it was like stepping into a collision of worlds. The room was clean and clinical like a hospital, but it had furniture built for the coziness of a home. There was a hearth nearby that held green fire radiating warmth but no smell.

Frostbite led them through a doorway into another room. It had a bed made of ghostly ice, plush chairs, and an ice desk like a typical doctor’s observation room moved slightly into the fantastical. But there were other machines in the room that Jason had no earthly idea what they might do. He stared uneasily at glowing green lights over head that tapered off into large, green needles.

“Jump on the table, Phantom, I’ll do you first,” Frostbite announced.

“What? But nothing’s wrong with me!” Phantom protested.

Frostbite stared drily at Phantom. “Nothing wrong? Then why are you in a form I haven’t seen since you were sixteen years old?”

Phantom fidgeted. “I don’t want to scare Hood – Jason.”

Frostbite frowned. “You crafted your form specifically to inspire safety, wonder, and protection. Your form will not harm a mortal’s gaze. I cannot imagine the strain you are under to limit yourself as such.”

Phantom’s gaze flickered uneasily to Jason. To be honest, the yeti’s words were a reassurance Jason had needed. He was still anxious about seeing what Phantom might look like, and he worried his reaction might hurt Phantom. But he also didn’t want Phantom combusting because he was holding his power too close to his chest.

Jason shrugged off his tension. “I don’t mind. You can show me.”

Phantom shook his head. “Maybe later. Right now we need you relaxed while Frostbite checks you over. I don’t need your rotten ecto to take the opportunity of a fear response to feed on the pure ectoplasm of the Infinite Realms.”

“Please lay down on the observation table, Sir Jason.”

Jason frowned at the table, complete with straps hanging down. “Uh, what exactly are you going to do to me?”

“Ah, I apologize. I forget that those still partly living have little experience in ghostly matters. The scanners above you will allow me to create an image of the ectoplasm and core within you over top. Great One has informed me that it is something like an ‘X-ray’ and ‘MRI.’ It allows me to observe your ectoplasmic system in real time.”

Jason gulped. That didn’t sound so bad. “Will it hurt?”

Frostbite shook his head. “You may feel a small jolt of power, but that is merely the ecto-energy of the system linking to your own body. The more relaxed you are, the less you should feel it affect you.”

“I’ve done it loads of times. You’ll be fine,” Danny reassured.

“You’re a full ghost,” Jason pointed an accusing finger.

Frostbite swiveled on Phantom, surprise on his face and rumbling from his core.

Phantom spoke quickly before Frostbite could interject. “It’s fine. Other liminals have used this machine. I promise, you’ll be safe.” Altruism radiated from the ghost king’s core. A little too intensely as if covering something else up.

Jason definitely flagged Frostbite’s reaction to bring up later. But he let is pass now unremarked on. He pushed himself onto the table and swung his legs up as he lay down. “Now what?”

“Just relax,” Frostbite replied. “If it helps, try to focus towards the center of yourself for where a core might be.”

Jason took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The observation table was bizarrely comfortable as if it had molded to his form. But it was cold from the ice it was made from. Jason was slightly terrified, as his arms and legs brushed the straps hanging off the sides. It had only been a couple days since the GIW had threatened to hold him down and dissect him. It didn’t help the pits were agitated under his skin like the ocean before a storm. He pushed through them to latch onto the faint whisper underneath the Pits that resonated with Phantom’s core pushing out feelings of safe and protection.

“Very good, Jason. Should only take a few more moments.”

Jason tried to stay still. His heartbeat seemed especially loud in his ears. He itched to walk up and flee, but he knew that was the Pits talking. They didn’t want to be in the Realms, and they certainly didn’t want to be scrutinized.

“Oh wow,” Danny whispered.

The awe in his voice sparked Jason’s curiosity, and he cracked open an eye. But caution soon fell away as he gawked at the image above him. A faintly glowing blue outline of his body shaped overhead. It was filled in with veins of toxic green. They reminded him of the infection from the Upside Down in Stranger Things. They all seemed rooted in the center of the holographic figure’s chest, wrapped around a tiny, green dot. But this green was vibrant and pulsing, like a weaker version of the green in Phantom’s eyes.

“Is that…my core?” Jason asked, pointing towards the green droplet. It was no bigger than a marble.

“It is the projected image of what is essentially your proto-core, yes. It looks to be quite strong. Especially if it has managed to survive the infected ectoplasm starving it. How long since you were exposed to the corrupted ectoplasm?”

“Seven years, give or take,” Jason replied.  “I didn’t care about what date is was when I was dunked in a Lazarus Pit.” Jason shifted. The image above flickered and had to refocus when he did so.

“Stop fidgeting,” Phantom said.

“Quite strong indeed. Your core will develop well once we are able to remove the infection. In a few of your decades, you might even qualify as a Halfa.”

“What does that mean?” Jason demanded.

Phantom shifted in discomfort. It didn’t escape Jason’s notice how Frostbite’s eyes flickered briefly to his king. “Half-alive, and half-dead. It will allow you to transition between a mortal and ghost form.”

Tim’s info about Phantom having another form was starting to make more sense.

“Like his majesty over here?” Jason nodded to Phantom.

Phantom spluttered. “What? Noooo...”

“Dude, you are a terrible liar.”

“Sir Jason is correct. Your deception skills are definitely lacking.”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “I’m a ghost. We’re all terrible at lying.”

“So it’s true? You’re half alive?”

Phantom sighed. “Yes. But that’s not exactly common knowledge, so try to keep it to yourself.”

“Tim knows.”

Phantom’s eyes flashed, glaring at Jason. The sound of ice cracking in a glass caused Jason to wince. “Did he tell you?”

Jason shook his head. “Put the pieces together myself. Tim has been keeping stuff secret about you from day one. Don’t forget, I was trained by Batman, you know. World’s Greatest Detective, supposedly.”

“Right.” Phantom’s intensity left as quickly as it had come. “Well, maybe I’ll show you when we return to the land of the living.”

Jason fidgeted again on the slab of ghostly ice the yetis called an observation table.

“Would you quit it?!” Phantom hissed in ghost speak. Unfortunately, the green goo in Jason felt compelled to obey.

“At ease, Great One. The squirming is nothing I am not unaccustomed to from your own visits,” Frostbite said, bemused.

Phantom’s grip on Jason’s will faded, a feeling of chastisement shrinking with it.

“Ha!” Jason pointed a finger at the ghostly figure who kept buzzing and glitching as if it were getting harder to hold his muted form in the Infinite Realms. “And I told you already you don’t have to keep that form if it makes you uncomfortable. I certainly wouldn’t want to look like I did when I died.”

Phantom sighed. “Everyone says that, and then they get all freaked out anyway when I take on my favored form.”

Frostbite hummed. “Just because your mortal Fraid was momentarily surprised by your kingly personage, does not mean they are uncomfortable once they acclimated. Besides, I think you are quite regal in your preferred form.”

“Of course you would say that, I partly modeled it after you,” Danny shot back.

“Regardless, it is unhealthy for you to continue holding your power back. And the Realms do not like it.”

“Frostbite, I’m fine.”

The ghostly yeti hummed doubtfully in response as he inspected the image of Jason’s proto-core hovering about a foot above his chest, still surrounded by veins of Pit water.

Jason was used to stubborn brothers forgoing their own needs for others’ comfort. “Just change, idiot. Now I’m curious. Besides, a good distraction will keep me from squirming.” Jason squirmed a little more for emphasis.

“You’re an asshole,” Danny replied. But he sighed in acquiescence. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The glitching intensified around Phantom, but now things actually started to remain once they changed. One moment his hands looked like normal white-gloved human hands, and the next they were long black claws. Phantom’s form grew until he was nearly as tall as Frostbite. And the developing bright blue horns Phantom occasionally sported grew until they were nearly as large as the ones on Frostbite.

By the time the glitching stopped, Jason’s jaw was agape in shock. Phantom’s new form was…majestic. Ethereal. Powerful. The glimpses he’d seen in his apartment were nothing compared to how he looked now. There wasn’t one word to settle on. This was the form of someone who looked like he could be the king of an entire dimension. He still glowed with green light, but the aura was stronger now. It screamed, PROTECTION! SAFETY!

The cloak Phantom sometimes wore was now large enough to envelope him like Batman’s cape, but it flowed in the air like it was suspended in water; a piece of the night sky rippling in an invisible wind. His skin was still tan, but blue veins ran through it like sunlight through a glacier. Freckles silver and twinkling like stars flowed over the bridge of his nose and under his green, green eyes.  His mouth was large and the teeth sharp and predatory. His elfin ears were even more pronounced, and his white hair was longer, also floating around his head as if in gentle underwater currents. The crown of frozen fire above his head grew with the form and sparkled with frosted ice. On one claw, the innocuous band of grey metal Jason had barely noted before now settled into a sleeping dragon curled around his finger, one bright red eye cracked open.

“See! You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Phantom protested, and the illusion was shattered. Seemed like the mouthy little twerp who shoved his hand in Jason’s chest was still in there.

Jason closed his mouth and fought the urge to smirk. “Phantom, I have just one question for you.”

Okay….shoot?”

And Jason couldn’t fight the smirk any longer. “Would you be offended if I started calling Tim a monsterfucker?”

Now it was Phantom who was gaping, and wow, that was really terrifying with that dislocated jaw and all those teeth. Plus, Jason thought that might be a mini-black hole in the back of the ghost king’s throat.

“what….WHAT?!”

Jason snickered. “Well, you’re all eldritch-like. Can I call Tim a monster fucker?”

“I…OKAY, FIRST OF ALL, we’re not…I haven’t…”

The yeti doctor now had the biggest grin, the long tail behind him swishing happily. “Great One, are you in an amorous relationship? Oh, I am so pleased to hear it. It’s been so long since – “

“Frostbite!” Danny whined. “I’ve seen other people besides Sam! And it’s not…well, it’s not like that. And even if…I don’t even know if it will lead anywhere....”

Jason rolled his eyes, and decided to cut off the nervous rambling. “Please, spare me the details.” Though he knew perfectly well Tim and Danny hadn’t gotten up to anything. They were both obviously in the pining and denial stages. 

Phantom’s skin flushed green. “I’m not even seeing Tim yet!”

“Yet,” Jason echoed with a smirk.

“NO! Well…maybe…Wait, you aren’t freaking out?”

Jason snickered. “Not freaking out. I was a little awestruck at first, but then you opened your mouth…”

Danny punched Jason’s arm. “You are an asshole.”

“So they tell me,” Jason replied cheekily.

“Ugh!”

“But seriously, do the jokes bother you? That’s why I ask.”

Phantom relaxed. “Nah. I’ll take ‘monsterfucker’ as long as you steer clear of the necrophiliac jokes.”

“Noted.”

“Hmm, most interesting. The proto-core responds positively to playful fighting. The corruption does not,” Frostbite remarked.

“So it is about intention?” Danny asked. He turned enough that Jason could now see tiny braids running on the sides of his head woven from Phantom’s now slightly longer hair. Adorable.

“Most assuredly. The core and corruption are fed by similar emotions, but you were correct in your theory that the intention behind the anger is what strengthens one and weakens the other. May I assume you are usually righteous in your anger rather than purely vengeful?” Frostbite asked.

Jason’s smirk fell at the heavy topic and he couldn’t help squirming again. “I guess? Not when I first came back. But when I took on the mantle of Red Hood, I started cleaning up Crime Alley. Fixing what I couldn’t before my death. Not well according to Batman’s morals, but it got shit done.”

Danny shrugged. “You don’t have to skirt around the fact you killed some scummy dudes, Jason. I already know what Red Hood has done. And I’m your king, not the judge of your soul. If it helps, I’m sure I’ve killed indirectly when sabotaging the GIW. But I also know who I can become if that power is left unchecked, so I steer clear of killing if I can, as a personal preference.”

Jason fidgeted under the honest emotions. He still wasn’t used to the ways ghosts wore everything they felt on their sleeves.

“I think you should take him to the tournament,” Frostbite noted.

Phantom startled at that. “The tournament? Are you sure? He’s like a ghost fetus right now.”

“Hey!”

“No offense.”

Frostbite hummed in affirmation as he began to ease Jason’s core back in his chest. “Indeed. I think being around that sort of energy will be good for his core. And you may begin ecto infusions once a week. Before providing pure ecto, I would advise wearing out the infecting ectoplasm with sparring. It will have the added benefit of rejuvenating the proto-core so it will be more likely to take to the pure ectoplasm. In a few months, the corruption should be clear. But come back in a month’s time and we’ll assess.”

Jason gaped. “It’s that easy? I could be…the Pits could be gone?”

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. “It’s not a guarantee. Your case is one I have not seen before. But drawing from my experience treating other cases of corrupted ectoplasm and knowing Phantom will be around to monitor you, I do expect a high probability of recovery. There is no purer or more powerful source of ectoplasm outside of the Realms than their king.”

Jason stared blankly in the distance as that settled in his chest. It seemed too good to be true.

Frostbite and Phantom were kind enough to let Jason have his moment as they resumed their own conversation. “I wonder if Tucker headed to the tournament? We’re both laying low here for a few days. Just had to help take down a GIW facility back in Gotham.”

Frostbite clucked unhappily. “Most concerning. Should you really be returning?”

“I’m not letting those white-suited fuckers drive me out.”

“You are too important, Great One. While I understand your desire to live your life as you choose, your demise at the hands of our enemy could destabilize everything.”

“I’m needed there. Jason needs me, as does Lady Gotham. And…others. I won’t abandon my subjects who choose to make Gotham their home.”

Frostbite sighed. “The Council will not be pleased. They have little patience as it is for the prolonged terrorism upon our people.”

“I know, I know. But I might be getting some help on that front. So, there is a possibility of finding a peaceful solution instead of going to war.”

Jason looked up at that. ‘War?” He asked.

Phantom and Frostbite both looked to Jason. Frostbite looked pitying while Phantom was sheepish.

“Yeah, um, the Ecto Acts and the GIW? They’re hurting my people. A lot. And whenever they manage to catch a Realms ghost, they’re using them to find more ways to hurt and kill us. Half my fights with the Observants and other Ancients are about my lackluster approach to dealing with them.”

“Wait, you have a whole Realm of super-powered ghosts at your disposal and you still haven’t taken these guys out? Why?”

Phantom frowned at Jason, and the air seemed to buzz with new intensity. Sound like ice cracking under pressure emanated from Phantom’s core. “Because if I let my people officially go to war, I will have to foreswear my haunt. Your world, and possibly your universe will be razed to nothing in collateral.”

As abruptly as the tension had come, it vanished. “And that’s why I’m trying to fix it on my own with my team. Because the alternative is the annihilation of my haunt.”

“Enough of politics. It is Sir Jason’s first time in the Realms. He should enjoy it. Again, I do recommend a tournament well worth a stop for you both. You were missed at the last one, Great One.”

Jason played along with the change in topic. The total annihilation of his universe was something he would definitely be talking to someone about. Maybe even Batman. “What tournament?”

Phantom smiled. “It’s a tradition I started implementing. Roughly twice a year – remember, time is weird in the Realms – I proclaimed that the Infinite Realms would host a tournament. Anyone is allowed to participate. Ghosts socialize through fighting, and this ensures friendly sparring in a controlled environment. No one’s core gets crushed or eaten. And it allows denizens from other dead realms the chance to come and interact with others of the Infinite Realms. We’ve got demons, oni, vampires, ghouls, sometimes the occasional angel…” Phantom continued on, listing various creatures, many of which Jason only though existed in myths.

“Are you saying I could go and punch a demon in the face?”

Phantom shrugged. “You could try. The tournaments get kind of intense, and no offense, but you still only have a mortal body. Like I said, ghost fetus. The truly dead and neverborns are used to a different kind of rough housing. I’d advise just spectating on your first visit.”

“Will you fight?” Jason asked. He definitely wanted to see the kid throwdown.

“If someone challenges me,” he replied, eyes seeming to glow brighter with excitement at the prospect.

“Iceclaw will be taking Snowflurry to her first tournament shortly. Perhaps you could accompany them,” Frostbite suggested.

“Oh, hell yes! It’s been ages since I’ve seen Snowflurry. How’s the little abomination?”

Frostbite chuckled. “Growing larger with every passing Deep Freeze.”

“Wait, is this a kid?” Jason began to feel the anger of a dead child rising to the surface.

“Relax, Hood. Snowflurry is a neverborn. She’s a child of the Infinite Realms. Many of the yetis in Frostbite’s village are, actually.”

“Right,” Jason relaxed. “Keep forgetting ghosts can have kids.”

Phantom tugged at Jason’s arm pulling the vigilante off the table with ease. How was a nine-foot-tall eldritch creature somehow so adorable? Fuck it, if Tim didn’t stake his claim soon, Jason might. “Come on, I can’t wait to introduce you! You’re going to love her!”

Chapter Text

Red Robin was currently dogging the Dark Knight of Gotham’s footsteps, much like a particularly annoying duckling. It was something Tim liked to think he specialized in. He annoyed his way into becoming Robin, he annoyed Bruce into taking better care of himself after Jason’s death, and he used his infinitely stubborn powers of annoyance to bring some semblance of order to the absolute chaos that was Young Justice in its early days. He irritated Dick enough that his older brother passed on the Robin mantle to a murder gremlin, and to convince most of the world’s heroes Tim was crazy. He pissed off most of European and International law enforcements in his Bruce-searching, globe-trotting extravaganza. He even managed to piss off Ra’s enough that he supplanted Bruce’s former title of “Detective,” and somehow that also meant Ra’s wanted his DNA in a mini assassin. (Which might indicate something in Tim was worth cloning, but Ra’s was also certifiably crazy after too many dunks in his pools of death and rage, so his judgement was clearly impaired.) Hell, even Tim’s own parents thought he was too annoying to stick around for. Although that was more their interest in being anywhere other home. Long story short, Red Robin was good at annoying people.

Currently, he was trying to irritate Batman into letting him in on the secret, emergency meeting he was about to convene with the Justice League. It should be working. Tim had gotten his way on much more outlandish requests for a lot less.

“No,” Bruce repeated. Again.

“B, this concerns me too. I was taken by those sadists. I have the most experience with Phantom. I’ve done the bulk of the hacking and research on ectoplasmic entities. It’s logical I should go up there. What’s better than a first hand account of all the bullshit we’ve found out?

“No.”

Tim was really starting to hate that word. Actually, that’s a lie. There was nothing more satisfying than looking a smug board member used to getting his way in the eye and destroying his entire worldview in a single syllable. “No” was one of Tim’s favorite words, and it was a gross injustice that it was currently being used against him. 

“Bruce, you’re being unreasonable!”

“No names in the cave.” And that was another thing. Bruce’s paranoia had ramped up even more after Tim and Jason’s kidnapping. Lately, B hadn’t been letting any rulebreaking slide. It was like the days of Red Hood’s first appearance all over again.

“B, stop letting your fear dictate your decisions for one freaking second. You need me up there.”

“No.”

“Why not?!” Tim demanded. He knew it sounded petulant, but Tim was banging his head against the human equivalent of a brick wall.

“You’re recovering.”

“I’m fine! It’s not like I’m patrolling. It’s a meeting! Alfred’s already cleared me to return to WE, how is this any different than siccing me amongst the vultures you call a board.”

“No.”

Tim strangled a scream. Fine. He should have done it Dick’s way from the start; Robins ask for forgiveness, not permission.

He stormed off, letting B think he was going off somewhere to mope. Actually, that was probably a lie. Bruce knew Tim too well, likely already guessing Tim was actually storming off to plot behind his mentor’s back. plan. But they both pretended otherwise because Tim had a stubborn streak a mile long and Bruce knew short of knocking Tim out, there wasn’t much he could do to stop him.

Tim peeled off his domino mask before exiting the cave and headed up into the manor. There was one man who would be on his side. One man Bruce would never go against. Or should he say, ghost.

“No.”

Tim stared at Alfred in shock. “Are you kidding me? What do you mean, no?’ This is the meeting that will determine your species’ entire fate in this world. And you want B to go in there with limited information?”

“You are recovering – “

“Excuse me?! You cleared me for work, that’s as good as an endorsement as any for this. In a couple weeks, Leslie thinks I’ll be cleared for patrol.” If the nerve damage wasn’t too severe was the stipulation, but Tim didn’t feel it worth mentioning. He’d show Leslie he was fine. Better than ever even.

Alfred sighed. “Master Tim…I think you’re too close to this case.”

Tim’s hackles raised. “What.”

“Ghosts have become a very personal topic for you in a very short period of time. I am worried that they will cloud your judgement when briefing the league. You should know as well as anyone that too much bias – even favorable – may do more harm than good. If the Justice League should think you compromised – ”

“Oh, you did not just go there – ”

“What is going on?” Dick asked over Tim.

Tim scowled at his eldest brother as he entered the kitchen. Already defensive, Tim practically snarled, “Come to stop me too? Think I’m too crazy to interact with the League?”

Dick held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on. I just don’t want you to say something you’ll regret. How about we take a walk so you can tell me about it.”

“So you can think I’m compromised too? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dick’s eye twitched, betraying his own emotions rising underneath the surface. “If you’re still harboring resentment over that, take it out on me, not Alfred.”

Tim pushed away from the counter. He squashed away the anger he was feeling, shoving it away in a box. “Fine.” He stalked out of the kitchen.

Tim recognized he was likely being too aggressive. In fact, he was probably being a little too manic about the Justice League meeting in general. But it felt like something he could control in a life that had a distinct lack of at the moment. Danny and Tuck were MIA. So was Jason. All the ghostly research had hit a natural standstill as they all waited to see what the Justice League’s plan of action was going to be. The meeting gave something for Tim to work towards rather than just useless fretting.

He could still hear Alfred and Dick conversing behind him. “I’ll look after him, Alfred. He probably didn’t mean whatever he said.”

“Master Tim is not prone to senseless outbursts, and he has every right to his feelings towards me. Be gentle, Master Dick.

Tim fought a scoff in the back of his throat. He didn’t need gentle. He needed to be listened to. One way or another, he was going to this meeting.

“Hey, baby bird! Wait up!” Dick called after him.

“Fuck off, Dick. I’m busy.”

“Yes, yes, you’re probably already three contingencies deep into whatever plan you’re trying to enact behind B’s back. Maybe a sounding board will help?” Dick jogged to come back to Tim’s side.

“No way. You’re going to try and stop me.”

“I could promise not to. Swear on my honor as Robin? If it’s really so bad, you’ll probably dig your own grave anyway.”

Tim stopped. He scrutinized his elder brother. “You swear? This stays between us. No telling anyone.”

Dick raised his left hand and placed his right over his heart. “I solemnly swear upon the mantle of Robin that I shall not betray whatever hair-brained scheme you’re concocting.”

Tim rolled his eyes at the dramatics but also nodded. “B won’t let me in on the emergency JL meeting. Which doesn’t make sense! I know the most about Phantom and ghosts. And I was the one subjected the GIW. If anyone is qualified for this, it’s me.”

Dick’s face twisted into a complicated and strained expression. “Tim, you just finished recovering after getting too close to this ghost business. B probably wouldn’t let Red Hood up either.”

“Red Hood is a crime lord. Neither Jason nor Bruce want him up there anyway.”

Dick sighed. “He’s concerned, it’s not a statement on your abilities. This is just typical B hovering.”

“Well he needs to stop! I can take care of myself! Always have!”

Dick grimaced even more deeply, the way he always did when Tim brought up his early independence. In typical Bat-fashion, he re-directed the conversation. “Why is Alfred against it?”

“He thinks the case is too personal. That I’ll compromise the evidence or some bullshit.”

“Are you? Too close to the case, that is?”

Tim paused. He thought about how obsessed he’d become in so short a time. How Phantom had shown up one night and turned Tim’s entire focus to ghosts. Even now, he couldn’t stop fretting about the ghost boy, wondering where he was and if he was safe. It was driving him nuts. He had to do something useful before he went crazy. “Maybe a little. But we’re vigilantes, when has that stopped us before?”

Dick nodded. “At least you’re self-aware. Fine, I’ll help.”

“Really?” Tim hadn’t expected help. He’d been cautiously optimistic Dick would keep his promise to not tattle on him. But then again, Tim hadn’t sensed dishonesty from Dick. Even now, all he could feel was support and perhaps an over-willingness to please Tim. These empathy powers were awesome. Tim hated that they faded a bit more with each day.

“Really. But no grandiose takeovers. Try to observe. Discretely. I’ll distract B so he doesn’t notice you missing. If you get up there ahead of time, you should be able to hide away in one of the vents. With any luck, B won’t even notice you’re there. I’ll cover you for those who do.”

Tim launched himself at Dick. “You’re my favorite sibling.”

Dick laughed. “Lies. We all know Cass is your favorite.” True, but Cass was everyone’s favorite.

Dick returned the hug with all the enthusiasm as typical of the first Robin. Perhaps a tactical error on Tim’s part, because once Dick had you in his arms, it would take a miracle to let him go.

Tim took the time before the Justice League meeting to do some snooping. Everyone thought he’d be busy scheming to get to the Watchtower, they didn’t even consider he might be scheming for something else. Because he was finally allowed out of the house. And neither Daniel Fenton nor Tucker Foley had been answering their phones since the GIW raid went down. Not to mention Jason was out of town, according to Roy Harper, but Tim had a hunch that had more to do with Phantom than any kind of Outlaw business.

So, time for some good old-fashioned stalking. Because Tim was not going to accept that Danny had helped save him and then left without a good-bye. And if he did, Tim had to hunt him down. Because…because…well, the why wasn’t important. He just needed to. After all, he still hadn’t gotten all the answers he wanted out of Danny and Tucker.

Tim opted to get to Danny and Tucker’s shared dorm the normal way, as it was daylight and he could very much pass for a sleep-deprived student in his “borrowed” hoodie from Kon, ripped jeans, and hair underneath a beanie. He threw a backpack over his shoulders with any tools he might need, and the look was complete. He followed students into the proper Residence Hall, not even needing to lift a keycard.

The only actual breaking and entering Tim had to do was when he showed up at the dorm room door. Waiting until the hallway was clear, Tim crouched down and managed to lockpick the door with only some mild cursing considering his hands were still a little unsteady from nerve damage. But he was still quick enough not to get caught. Dick would be so proud.

It should have been easy. Go in, snoop, and leave as if he were never there. What Tim was not expecting was the lanky, red-haired and freckled young man currently laying on one of the beds, laptop on his stomach playing what sounded like a Netflix documentary about a cult. On his chest rested a cup of Instant Ramen. Some of the noodles were currently hanging out of the boy’s mouth as he gaped at Tim coming in.

“Uhhh, who are you?” the probable college student asked, after slurping the noodles into his mouth.

Tim tensed, but forced himself to relax. He may be trespassing, but he knew this kid didn’t belong here either. Danny and Tuck didn’t have another roommate. “Tim.” It was a common enough name, he didn’t feel the need to lie. “Who are you?”

“Oh Ancients! You’re…you’re…” The kid scrambled, slamming the laptop closed and practically throwing the noodles off of his chest onto the nightstand. Somehow he apparently recognized Tim. Greaaat…

Tim raised a single eyebrow. “Why are you in Danny and Tucker’s room?”

“Who cares about that! I have questions. So many questions. How the fuck did you become acquainted with Fenton and Foley?”

“Small city. And I care. Who are you?”

The ginger snorted. “Not that small. Oh! Oh! You didn’t meet Fenton, you met Phantom. Okay, this makes sense! Because of course Phantom can’t keep a low profile. Of course he’d catch the notice of the Bats.”

Only Tim’s extensive Robin training kept him from stiffening at the boy’s rambling. The boy who was currently pacing and mumbling to himself, reminiscent of Red Robin at his most sleep-deprived.

Tim sighed, hoping to play off more relaxed than he actually was. “Look, if you’re not going to tell me who you are, can you tell me where Danny and Tucker are?”

“Oh! I’m Wes. They’re not here.” Wes paused in his pacing.

“Obviously,” Tim gestured to the otherwise empty room.

“Why? Are they important to one of your cases?”

“Cases? I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I just need to ask them a question.” Plus a hundred.

The ginger – Wes apparently, which definitely sounded like a name Tim had heard before from Phantom – rolled his eyes. “You’re Tim Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises and adopted son of Bruce Wayne, aka Batman. If you’re not Red Robin, I’ll eat my left shoe.”

Tim stared at Wes. Wes – short for Wesley – Weston, he remembered, a vague mention from Danny that Tim hadn’t had a chance to follow up on. Now Tim was wishing he had. He forced a chuckle that he hoped sounded real. “Dude, you’re crazy. I just sit behind them in Lab.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Despite whatever Danny might have said, I’m not an idiot. Look, I get it, secret identities are important. But it will save us a lot of time if you stop pretending like I’m crazy. Didn’t work out for Phantom, won’t work well for you.”

Tim scowled. “Look, I’m not here on any business but my own.” Truth. “Why are you here?”

Wes jumped back on the bed he’d previously been laying on. “Watching and waiting for the GIW to scamper off to their hole. And making sure Fenton and Foley’s stuff stays here until they come to collect it. Now, how did you become Robin?”

“Collect their stuff? Are they moving?”

“Probably. You, Robin, how did it happen? I can only assume you filled a vacuum following Jason Todd’s death. Speaking of, please confirm if he’s alive, ghostly, or dead. Because Red Hood is the one Gotham vigilante I can’t figure out, but my most likely theory is he’s the second Robin returned to life.”

“You’re insane. People don’t come back from the dead.”

Wes snorted. “Tell that to literally anyone else besides an Amity Parker and you might convince them. That’s if they don’t think about all the other superheroes with miraculous un-deaths.”

Tim suppressed the urge to growl at the very irritating red-head in front of him. It was official, Tim did not like Wes Weston.

“When are they coming back?” Tim asked instead, deciding that not answering Wes’ questions was probably the best option here.

“When I give them the ‘all clear.’ But as there were still white-suited rats snooping around this morning, probably not for at least a couple more days.”

Tim should probably act confused about the GIW reference, but he really didn’t want to have to prolong this conversation longer than necessary. “Where are they?”

“You know, this is feeling more like an interrogation than a conversation. Why should I tell you?”

“I…” Tim fumbled. Because the Justice League needed more answers. Because Phantom and Tucker had helped rescue him and he at least owed them his gratitude. None of these were answers he could give Wes Weston. “I’m just worried about them,” he settled on.

Wes’ face softened some, a small smile on it. “Awww, you do care. Good. Sam and Val are convinced you’re going to tear out our ghost boy’s heart and stomp on it.”

“What – ”

“Oh, Danny is so obviously crushing on you. Believe me, we all know the signs. I think the only person Danny didn’t date in our little group is Tuck. But even then, I’m half certain they kissed each other to determine whether or not they were gay back in middle school.”

Realization dawned slowly on Tim. And when it did, horror followed. “Danny dated you?”

“Hey, rude! I’m a catch.” Wes said, gesturing to his body that looked like it had been stretched like taffy and he still hadn’t finished growing into it.

Wes continued, ignoring Tim’s doubtful eyebrow raise. “It didn’t last long. A bad decision after months and months of sexual tension building up. You know the drill. ‘You’re Phantom!’ ‘No I’m not!’ ‘Yes you are and I can prove it!’ and then Danny and I got stuck together in a GIW trap, one thing led to another, and we dated for a few weeks until we realized the spark died when we weren’t arguing anymore. So we parted ways as friends, and I officially joined Team Phantom. Or as I like to call it: The Phanteam.”

Tim…did not have a response to that.

“I mean, totally makes sense why he’s crushing on you now. His type is definitely people who are determined to uncover all his secrets and aren’t afraid to physically fight him to figure it out. Tell me, do you also have conspiracy boards? Because between me and Val, we think he might have a kink for red string.”

Tim also did not have a response for any of that either. In fact, he rather felt like he wanted to flee this conversation. Without another word, Tim got up and headed for the door. He doubted he’d have much more answers out of Wes and he did not want to give the boy any further reason to believe he was right about the identities of the Bats. He was not looking forward to reporting this in. It would definitely wait until after the Justice League meeting though.

“Wait!” Wes’ voice had a strain of desperation in it, which was the only reason he stopped.

“I was joking about that. Mostly.” Wes sighed. “Danny likes people who aren’t afraid of him. People who see him as just another person. I have a feeling that might include you. Is it?”

Tim rested his hand on the handle and worried his lip before replying. “Danny and I are barely friends. I have no idea what you’re rambling about.”

“Uh-huh. Well, Danny and I have been friends for nearly four years. And while I don’t know you, I have a feeling you’re like me. You’re intrigued and consumed by a mystery. After all, third Robin was the detective Robin. But if you’re going to drop him once you figure it out, get out now.”

“Are you threatening me?” Tim turned around the ginger, who had lost his easy grin to something sharp and serious.

“No. I’m warning you. Danny has a lot of friends. Friends with a wide array of skills who don’t have aa rigid of a moral compass as he does. Don’t hurt our boy.”

Tim huffed. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He opened the door.

Wes’ Cheshire-like cheer returned to his voice. “Well, bye then! I’ll tell Danny and Tuck you stopped by! Should I get your number?”

Tim left, not deigning question request with a response. That conversation from start to finish had left him wrong-footed. He hadn’t gotten the answers he wanted. He still didn’t even know where Danny and Tucker had vanished. Though Wes made it sound like they were at least safe.

Speaking of, Westley Weston was a whole lot of questions and not enough answers. He should not have been that confident in Tim’s alter ego as Red Robin. Somehow Tim was going to have to stage something to sow doubt in the ginger’s mind. Hopefully without informing the rest of the family.

Bur first, research. He had to learn more about Danny’s associates. Good thing he had some time to kill in some air vents.

Chapter Text

Before today, Jason did not think he had ever considered the adorableness of a yeti child. However, as Snowflurry – who was already bigger than Tim would ever get – chattered away about her favorite ghosts she hoped to see in the tournament, Jason was of the firm opinion that if anyone hurt this ghost child, he would bring the full fury of Red Hood upon them. She clung with soft, furry arms as she piggybacked Jason, while talking with Phantom.

“What about Firestorm? He’s pretty awesome,” Phantom asked the ghost child.

The yeti child radiated disgust. “A fire core? Ew. How could you betray our kind like this?”

Phantom barked out a laugh and his core radiated amusement. It seemed the longer Jason stayed here, the easier it was to pick up on the various sounds ghost cores were making.

“King Phantom must remain impartial, as we are all his subjects. Even the fire cores,” Iceclaw, a yeti with dark blue fur and Snowflurry’s Dad, replied gently, even while his own core rumbled his own amusement.

“Don’t worry,” Danny whispered conspiratorially to Snowflurry, “I prefer yeti pups to a fire sprite any day.”

Snowflurry giggled as Danny ruffled the fur on top of her head. “Are you going to fight this year?” She asked.

“Maybe. If someone challenges me,” Phantom remarked. “But I have to keep an eye on Jason here. Can’t leave the ghost baby unattended.”

Snowflurry giggled again, while Jason shouted, “Hey! I’m older than you.”

Phantom shrugged. “Maybe. But your core is like a guppy compared to me. Strong ghosts look out for the weaker ones.”

Jason grumbled but couldn’t actually refute Phantom. He still had very little idea how the Infinite Realms worked, but it did seem to be more power than age based in hierarchy. Or power usually came with age, but Phantom – the weirdo – was an exception.

“Are we almost there?” Snowflurry asked her Dad, already distracted.

“Soon,” Iceclaw promised.

Jason felt the tournament long before he saw or heard it. He could feel something energetic and powerful from far off. A buzzing under his skin that felt like the crowd at the football playoffs the one time Bruce had taken him about a year after he’d been adopted. Except multiplied by a thousand. Growing closer, he began to hear the roar of crowd, cores buzzing with excitement, and the faint sounds of weapons clashing. Also, the heart-pumping beat of drums, and the wail of an electric guitar.

“Oh nice! Sounds like they got Ember and her band to do music. She’s kind of a big deal, like a rockstar of the Infinite Realms. I didn’t think she’d make it to this one; she’s been busy doing tours in Valhalla and Folkvangr,” Danny explained.

Finally, they passed around a volcanic island floating in the green and purple void. Beyond it, floated a veritable Colosseum, much larger than any Jason had ever seen. Purple and green pennants rippled in nonexistent wind. A wide variety of ghosts milled in and out of a structure that put even the best stadiums on the earth to shame.

“May I present, The Ghost Bowl!” Danny gestured with a flourish.

The small yeti riding on Jason’s shoulders clapped her hands with delight, bouncing up and down. Jason had to fight urge not to groan in protest. Yetis – even as kids – weren’t exactly small.

“It’s so big!” She exclaimed.

“Come on Snowflurry, let’s go find some seats,” Iceclaw beckoned her.

“Enjoy the tournament!” Danny wished them well, as Snowflurry detached from Jason and floated up to Iceclaw.

“And good luck to you, Great One. May victory bless you,” the older yeti, Iceclaw wished.

“Yeah! Victory bless you, Great One!” Snowflurry echoed, taking her father’s claw in hand. “Come onnnn, Daaaaad.”

“Thanks, abomination.” Danny ruffled the fur on the younger yeti’s head.

Jason stared around. There truly was every variety of being to have ever existed present. He saw one green ghost who just looked like some kind of stereotyped lunch lady chatting with a ten-foot-tall demonic abomination with ten eyes. He saw starfish creatures and some kind of angelic being made of rings, eyes and wings.  Some creatures Jason couldn’t stare at for long before a low static hummed in his mind and his head ached with the strain.

“Sorry, I know it’s a lot for living eyes. Will you be alright?” Phantom looked down at Jason with concern,

“Fine. Just…weird. Really fucking weird.”

Danny snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“King Phantom,” a voice greeted. “You did not inform me you would be present at today’s event.”

Jason looked up and immediately wanted to shrink back. A seven-foot-tall ghost in dark armor with a sword emanating the ice-cold dread of a nightmare was standing in front of them. He willed himself to meet the ghost’s fiery gaze head-on.

“Hey, Frighty. Sorry, spur of the moment decision.”

Jason choked at the name.

“Oh! Introductions! Jason, this is Fright Knight. He’s kind of like my chief of guard, but he’s also the Spirit of Halloween. Frighty, this is Jason, an undead guy I’m helping out.”

The ghostly knight was silent for a moment, staring at Jason as if looking through him straight to his miniscule core.

“I see what Lord Clockwork meant now,” Fright Knight said in response.

Danny’s gaze snapped to his knight. “What cryptic hints has Clockwork been dropping?”

The knight ignored the question, turning his gaze back to Phantom and deep voice now dripping with exasperation. “King Phantom, as I have stated numerous times before, any interdimensional event you plan to attend must be brought to my attention so you may have a guard established. Thankfully, Clockwork was able to inform me of your impromptu presence.”

“Ugh, tattle-tale,” Phantom muttered. “Frighty, I’ll be fine. It’s just a tournament.”

“A tournament all the legions of the afterlives are invited to,” Fright Knight pointed out. “A fair many of which are displeased by the eyelets wreaking your justice on the Realms.”

“Wreaking justice…I’m going to use that,” Jason murmured as a mental note.

Loud enough for Danny’s sensitive hearing to catch it and cackle. “Please tell me what Batman’s face does when you do.

“Well, Frighty, now that you’re here, may we please go see the tournament I’m hosting?” Danny emphasized.

Frighy Knight, either ignoring or not pick up on the sarcasm nodded. “This way, My King.”

As they entered the stadium, Phantom leaned down to whisper in Jason’s ear. “Frighty may look intimidating, but really he’s just an overdramatic protection spirit.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Jason remarked with a smirk. He still didn’t let himself relax until the knight was a good distance away.

Danny let out a gasp. “How dare you – “

“Oh please. I was obviously talking about Batman.” Jason’s smirk widened. He had totally been talking about Phantom.

Jason had to admit that accompanying royalty had its perks. Right now, he was in the best seats of the arena looking down at a green-dusted pit that shifted and changed according to whichever opponents were fighting. Currently, it was cluttered mess of jagged rocks and sand dunes in which two teams were playing some kind of homicidal lovechild of rugby and dodgeball. One team was comprised of three-foot tall imp-like demons that used guerilla tactics like they were going out of style on the other team of ghosts that looked an awful lot like Kori, Jason’s friend and teammate from the planet of Tamaran. They were using mostly sheer power and blunt force against their opponents.

“The Tamaranians have had a grudge against their afterlife’s hellions for eons. When I assumed the throne, they were involved in a pretty intense war. Let me tell you, I probably rivaled Tim’s streak without sleeping that week.

The match finally ended with the hellions winning by barely a point. The Tamaranians stalked off the field enraged, but otherwise nothing else happened.

“They look like they want to murder those hellions,” Jason pointed out.

“Oh they probably do. But the rules of the tournament are very serious. There aren’t many, but chief among them is no harming anyone outside of the combat ring, and no obliterating or consuming someone out of existence.”

“And people honor that?” Jason asked, knowing all too well how often rules like that were broken.

Danny stared at Jason, and it seemed the temperature dropped as his aura grew more serious. “They will if they don’t want to suffer the consequences.” It was clear Phantom invited no further discussion on the topic. Not that Jason really wanted to think about what consequences it would take to keep all the realms of the Dead in line.

“Stop terrifying the Gotham revenant, Phantom,” a voice spoke up. Jason looked around Phantom to see a very much alive young man walking into the booth, eyes typing furiously on a…PDA? Jason thought that tech was obsolete years ago.

“Tucker! I didn’t think you were coming!” Phantom chirped.

“And hang out with the Observants alone in your castle? I don’t think so.” The boy looked up, and oh, those were not the eyes of a normal living person. They were glowing an icy blue.

The boy looked at Jason, and they flickered into a solid red light. The boy’s face contorted into a scowl. “What filth! And you are letting it in the King’s box?” A voice that was not the kid’s growled, echoey with static.

Phantom just rolled his eyes. “Stand down, Duulaman.”

Tucker – or whoever he was – groaned and pressed a hand to his head. When his eyes opened again, they were once again glowing blue. “Sorry about that guy. He’s usually dormant. But downside to coming to the Realms is I have to share headspace with an ancient Pharaoh who can have strong opinions.”

“I’m sorry – what?!” Jason exclaimed.

“Long story short, Tuck here is the reincarnation of a King Duulaman, an Egyptian pharaoh. Normally, not a huge deal. But then special circumstances with an old scepter meant the pharaoh got re-awakened in Tuck and we can’t quite get rid of him until his death, probably. But he stays asleep pretty much in the mortal world as long as Tuck takes him to a history museum to complain about everything they got wrong every so often. But he’s more active in the Realms.”

“That…I feel like I need more explanation, but I feel like it will only lead to more questions,” Jason remarked.

“Sounds about right for one of Danny’s explanations. Nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re the Red Hood Danny promised to help?” Tucker stepped forward and held out a hand.

Jason shook it, surprised by the firm grip in such a gangly body. “Uh, yeah. How do you – “

“Danny’s my best friend. Of course I know. He has to run all his ideas by at least one member of our Fraid to make sure they aren’t dumb.”

“Hey! As if you aren’t plenty stupid all on your own!”

Tucker just stuck his tongue out in reply.

“I thought you weren’t coming to the tournament,” Tucker remarked.

Danny shrugged. “Stuff with Frostbite went quicker than expected.”

“Prognosis?”

Danny grinned at Jason and gave Tucker a thumbs up. “Looking good so far. We’ll have to stick around Gotham a little longer though. I’ll need to do transfusions.”

“I should be mad at you for that, but I actually don’t want to leave Gotham.”

“See! I knew the hellhole was growing on you too!” Danny chirped.

“You live in Gotham?” Red Hood asked.

“Yeah. For college. Me and Danny both.”

“Ghosts can go to college?”

Tucker stared at Jason, before slowly turning to Phantom who looked incredibly sheepish. “Does he not know?”

“No! He figured it out!” Danny replied quickly.

Jason looked between them. “I’m so lost.”

“Dude, remember? I’m a halfa.”

Jason blinked. But hadn’t Danny said he died? And he was doing something normal as going to college? “But aren’t you legally dead?”

Tucker snorted. “No way. That would mean someone other than me and Sam would have had to have noticed he died. Danny’s folks never even figured it out until he told them.”

Jason sucked in a breath. College was always something pre-dead Jason had wanted. But then he’d come back…wrong. He’d audited classes under aliases, but Jason Todd was still supposed to be six feet underground in the Wayne cemetery. Between the Pit rage, his revenge on Batman and Joker leading to his life as a crime lord, and the lack of identity, he’d figured college was a dream he’d never get. He recalled Danny’s comment over a week ago, “just buy a new identity.” Maybe once he was cured and the GIW taken care of, he would.

“So. College.”

“Yeah, that’s actually why I’m in Gotham. Me and Tucker both.”

“Tucker and I,” Jason corrected almost unconsciously.

Tucker wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, English major.”

Danny snickered. “Come on, they aren’t that bad. Lancer was our favorite teacher.”

“Because he was the only who figured out your secret ID AND gave you extra time for assignments.”

Danny nodded sagely. “He was the best.”

“I’m sorry, what? A teacher knew your civilian ID before your parents did?” Jason exclaimed.

“Well, well, look who bothered to show up?!” A voice shouted across the arena before Jason could get answers. He spun around and quickly identified the voice as a human-looking ghost with electric blue, fiery hair matched by an equally bright guitar on a stage. “The Head Menace himself!”

The stadium erupted into cheers. Phantom waved and ducked his head as if embarrassed. His voice echoed just amidst the hubbub of the stadium. “Nice to see you too, Ember! Even with your knockoff songs!”

Ember’s blue hair flared, and her smile turned toothy and predatory. “Carefeul, Babypop. Words like that might land you in the hotseat.”

Phantom laughed, and rippled across the crowd, charging it with amusement. “Don’t make threats you can’t carry out, Ember.”

“Babypop?” Jason mouthed.

“Nickname for me when I first started out,” Danny explained, this time so only Jason could hear.

“Give us a speech, you gremlin!” Ember shouted, leading a chant from the crowd of “SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you lot,” Phantom’s voice boomed over the arena, effectively silencing the crowd. “Welcome! I am proud to present the twelfth Tournament of the Infinite Realms! May the odds be ever in your favor!”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Fright Knight grumbled close by, “Unoriginal.”

Tucker snorted. “Definitely.”

“Oh give me a break. I didn’t even think I’d be here today. No time to come up with some deadly puns.”

“I suppose we should all be thankful for that,” Fright Knight grumbled, earning him plenty of dramatic gasps and dying noises from the ghost king, as he fell over into the lap of his knight. Jason watched with amusement at the king’s dramatics.

Meanwhile, an oozing shadow creature sparking with volts of electricity took the field to the clamors of the crowd. Jason settled in to watch as a West African Amazon-esque warrior came to meet them with an acacia thorn belt around her waist and sword in hand. A gong sounded across the stadium, and the West-African warrior charged with a savage yell. The ooze somehow shot a lightning bolt towards the woman, who flipped up and over the ooze. Once back on her feet, she thrust her sword, and the very earth of the tournament ground shifted and opened up to force the ooze into the cracks. The battle was epic, each opponent using clever moves with ghost-enhcanced powers that most living beings – even super-powered ones – wouldn’t dare think of. Eventually the oozing shadow did win, but the warrior woman took defeat gracefully.

The rest of the tournament was equally fantastic. Match after match of supernatural entities left Jason reeling at the immense power being exhibited. All of them holding back only so much as to not permanently harm their opponent. And the crowd was absolutely loving it. Occasionally the single combat was broken up with teamed opponents. Phantom was particularly gleeful and cackling during a heated match of Capture the Flag between two teams of child ghosts. One was a ragtag team with green caps led by a ghost boy dressed like Robin Hood proclaiming himself Sir Youngblood, going up against another team comprised of what looked like the children of medieval nobles until they all turned into dragons.

“You let kids compete in this?” Jason had exclaimed.

“Youngblood is a valiant warrior,” Frighty nodded with approval.

“Relax, Jason. Youngblood is older than I am. All those kids may have been young when they died, but I guarantee that everyone on Dorthea’s youth team is at least a hundred years old. Youngblood has younger recruits, but they’re still mature ghosts.”

Jason’s jaw and fists clenched, unable to get past the fact all the kids currently chasing one another with ectoplasm-constructed swords had died before reaching the age of majority.

“Relax,” Danny said in Ghost-speak, soothing Jason’s core, but he still fought against the king’s command. Phantom continued in English, “You can pity them all you want, but down there they are having fun and they’re happy. They won’t get hurt.”

Jason looked away. It made sense, but it was still hard to watch without a surge of protective anger bubbling in Jason. Would that have been him if he had stayed dead? Forever fifteen passing time with the play and companionship of other dead children? Would he have been happier that way? And Jason wasn’t sure he was ready to confront the answer to that question. “Any refreshments at this tournament of yours?” Jason gritted out.

Phantom gave Jason a sympathetic smile. “Sure. All ectoplasm based, but I think you’ll be able to handle something small without overindulging your ectoparasite.”

Fright Knight stood and made to come with them until Phantom sent a gesture his way. “Stand down, Frighty. We’re just grabbing some grub. Be back soon.”

“King Phantom – “

“Nope! Enjoy the show, Frighty.”

As Phantom led Jason away, he shrunk to about six feet tall so he could whisper in Jason’s ear, “Frighty is the Spirit of Halloween technically. So, as you can imagine, he has a soft spot for kids. Especially the more mischievous ones like the gremlins in Youngblood’s gang. Unfortunately, that also means he lets them get away with pretty much whatever they want in my keep.”

“How did the Spirit of Halloween become your captain of the guard anyway?” Jason asked. Anything to distract the unsettled green within him.

Phantom sighed. “Inherited him from the last guy.”

Jason squawked. “You mean the evil tyrant you had to lock up in a sarcophagus?! How can you trust someone who used to work for someone like that?”

“Frighty isn’t so bad, but we got off on the wrong foot, and then he was corrupted by Pariah’s influence, so he worked against me even after I defeated Pariah Dark. When I finally took up the crown and ring, he was freed from that corruption and pledged his oaths to me, but we’ve had a long road to understanding one another.”

“Still fuckin’ weird,” Jason muttered. “How can you trust him?”

“It’s a long story where he had to save me from danger. But I figured you would get it, Red Hood. You know more than anyone alive how corrupted ectoplasm messes you up.” Phantom’s gaze was unjudgmental, but it didn’t stop the guilt roiling in Jason’s stomach. He had a lot of regrets from when he first came back. Many of them he didn’t think he’d ever be able to atone for.

“Anyway, snacktime!” Danny’s mood switched back to mirth as he bounced up to a vendor and asked for popcorn. The green glowing kernels looked far too radioactive to be edible, but Danny seemed unbothered as he tossed them in his mouth that opened far too wide.

Jason stared at the glowing green food. “What does that even taste like?”

Phantom hummed thoughtfully with food in his mouth. “…Ranch Two.” He held out the bucket for Jason.

“I think that stuff will make me grow a third eye or something.”

Phantom snickered. “Maybe. If you want it to.”

Jason shook his head. “I’ll just eat when I get home.”

Phantom shrugged. “Suit yourself. Come on, let’s go. I think Vortex is up soon and I do not want to miss some upstart putting him in his place.” He started stretching back into his taller form.

When they emerged back in the Private Box, Jason just managed to see a five-foot nothing figure in a black hoodie toss an ogre twice their height and three times their size across the arena. The crowd erupted with a combination of cheers and boos. Apparently both combatants were rather popular.

Next to him, Jason felt Danny’s aura begin fizzing with happiness. It seemed to ripple in the nearby crowd, driving them into even more excitement.

“Who’s Mr. Tall and Terrifying?” Jason asked, wondering which of the combatants Danny recognized.

“That beast of an orc currently charging is Gi’tlar, a legendary fighter amongst his people. I got to fight him in the tournament last year and he actually put up a decent fight.”

Jason gaped. “Are you telling me you beat that guy? He looks like he could snap me in half.”

“Psh. I think you’re forgetting that I managed to become the future king of ghosts via single combat before my voice even dropped. Albeit I kind of cheated, but still counts! Believe me, I already tried weaseling out of it.”

The ogre managed to toss the hooded figure across the arena, but whoever they were they caught themselves just before they slammed into the wall. Their legs twisted into a wispy white tail, just like Phantom’s teenage form.

“And the hooded pipsqueak?” Jason asked.

Danny beamed even wider. His freckles seemed to glow even brighter like actual stars. “That’s – “

Said hooded pipsqueak managed to duck a punch and wrap their reformed legs around the orc’s throat. Then slammed him into the ground with a yank. They proceeded to stand on the orc’s chest, arms thrust upward in victory. The orc – too dazed to stand – stayed down. The match was called with the drone of a horn.

“ – my sister,” Phantom finished smugly.

The hood was flipped back and Jason nearly choked at the person underneath. She had the same white hair as Phantom’s teenage form, but longer and pulled back into princess Leia-style buns. Her eyes were the same bright green, and even her face looked similar to Danny’s.

“As victor, I proclaim a new challenge!” Danny’s sister shouted. “King Dipshit, I challenge you!” The ghost shouted, a gleam in her eye.

Danny’s face broke out in a fanged grin. “You’re on, Princess Pukeface!” And before Jason could react appropriately to that exchange, Danny was leaping over the balcony.

Surprisingly Frighty made no move to stop him. The dark-clad knight just sighed heavily.

“Who the fuck – I thought his sister was alive?!” Jason exclaimed.

Frighty stared at Jason. “Sir Phantom’s clone was made from his DNA following the accident that made him a Halfa. Therefore Danielle is the same.”

“She’s his clone?!” Jason wished Danny hadn’t leapt off the nearest balcony so he could give the ghost king yet another lecture on forgetting to reveal important information. Instead he swiveled on the next best thing: Danny’s friend. “Explain.”

Tucker dead-panned, “Would is satisfy your curiosity if I simply said that Danny’s evil godfather was obsessive about him and his mom, and wanted to make an obedient version of Danny when he didn’t agree to become the Fruitloop’s protegee slash son?”

“That…that actually makes a weird amount of sense. But only because someone I know has a similar situation going on. Evil godfather, though? That’s a new one. And she’s…not evil?” Jason confirmed, not sure if it would be a Kon-situation or Damian-clone situation.

Tucker snorted. “Evil? No. Meance? Yes, two-hundred-percent.”

In the arena below, Danny shed his cloak with a snap of his fingers as it swirled and shrunk into non-existence. He stretched his arms and back on the way down, meeting his clone’s feral grin with his own.

“Ready to eat Realms dirt, pipsqueak? ”Danny smirked.

“Psh, the only one face-planting today is you, blob fodder.”

The pair of them continued to circle one another as they waited for the match to begin. As soon as the gong was struck to signal the start of the match, Danny’s counterpart darted towards him like a bullet, aiming for a surprise sucker punch to the gut. Danny dodged with ease, cackling as he swerved and tried to trip his clone, who darted away at the last second.

They danced around each other a while longer until finally they zipped towards each other, meeting in a grappling collision. Phantom’s grip on his clone’s arm began to encase it in ice.

The clone tugged herself away, and circled around Danny, launching green balls of ectoplasm from her non-iced hand. “Eat ecto!” she screeched.

Danny dodged all but one attack, tumbling over as one of the green blasts hit him, singing his armor. “Oh it’s on now!” He lobbed his own ball of ectoplasm at his clone, using the distraction to multiply himself into three other copies.

“No fair!” his clone shouted. “I haven’t mastered that one yet!”

“Get good, scrub!” Danny cackled.

Jason grimaced. “Ugh, did he really just say that?”

Tucker shook his head in amusement. “First thing you learn about Danny is that he’s a terrifying pseudo-deity who still hasn’t discovered the limits of his power. Second thing you learn is he might be half-ghost, but he is a hundred percent dork.”

“He’s what?!”

A boom followed Jason’s shout as two of Danny and his clone’s ectoplasms collided, knocking them both to the outer boundaries of the arena. From below, Danny shook his head, disoriented. “Well, that’s a new one.”

“Hey! We just made an explosion!” the clone shouted.

“I know! So cool!” Danny shouted back.

The fight continued on a while longer, the two ghosts like forces of nature colliding, and yet Jason could see they were only toying with one another. He was terrified to think of what the two might be capable of at full power.

But eventually, a well-timed blast from Danny knocked his clone off her feet, giving Danny the advantage to wrap her up in his ghostly tail, effectively subduing her.

“And victory goes to King Phantom!” Ember announced with a guitar riff to the screams of the crowd.

Danny released his clone, and she immediately tackled him in a hug. As the two of them both headed back to the king’s box, he could hear their cores pinging joy back and forth between them as they rehashed the fight.

“That move was so cool! You have so show me!”

“Only if you show me what you did with the ice! That was awesome!”

“You do know you’re a water, not an ice core, right?”

“I bet I could modify it!”

“Are they always like this?” Jason asked Fright Knight and Tucker.

“Unfortunately,” Fright Knight grumbled.

“Tucker! Frighty!” Danny’s clone greeted, buzzing up to the box to hug each of them in turn. “And who might you be?” She stopped, floating so she could put her face at Jason’s eye level.

“That’s Jason. He’s an undead with some sick ectoplasm. Jason, meet Danielle, my clone.”

“Call me Dani!” Danny’s clone chirped. She sniffed Jason. “Whew! You aren’t kidding. Your ectoplasm is rank, my dude.”

“Dani!” Danny chastised.

“Uhh, nice to meet you? Don’t the names get confusing?”

Dani grinned. “Yes.”

“Dani is basically a gremlin given ghost form. I think her secondary obsessions is to sow chaos.”

“Hey! Rude!” Dani slapped her original. “No talking about obsessions without my permission!”

“Ow! Watch it, we’re not in the ring anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah, you big baby. Cry over it. Anyway, where’s Cujo? I’ve been in the Realms for days and I haven’t seen him,” Dani inquired.

Tucker frowned down at his PDA. “Weird. I didn’t seem him at your Keep either.”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw him last time I was here, but I figured I wouldn’t see him this visit since I’ve mostly been in the Far Frozen. He probably found some portal somewhere and is currently terrorizing the squirrel population – or approximate local substitute – to his heart’s content.”

Dani pouted. “Aw! I was hoping for some Cujo kisses!”

“Cujo?...Like the Stephen King novel?” Jason asked.

Danny shrugged. “He’s a ghost dog. Don’t know where the name come from, only that it’s the name the lab he died in gave him.”

Okay, this one was on Jason. He definitely should not have inquired in the backstory of a ghost dog; that was just asking to be sad. He switched topics. “So, a clone? Does Tim know?”

Danny snorted. “I like Tim, but I do not know him enough to talk about my clone-sister.”

Dani’s eyes gleamed with unholy light. Literally. The green glow was super creepy. “Who’s Tim?”

Danny looked briefly terrified before smoothing his expression. “If you kept up with the group chat, you’d know.”

“Ugh! But most of the time it’s just everyone sending stupid memes!”

“You send the stupidest ones! How are we supposed to get the jokes of a planet the rest of us haven’t been to?!” Tucker complained.

Dani sniffed. “That is so not a me-problem.”

Tucker’s PDA dinged, and he looked intrigued by whatever notification had come in. He perked up with the expression of a new idea hitting him. “Hey, so do you have anything pressing going on? I think I might have a mission for you.”

“Oooh! Really? Will I get to beat up someone? Actually, don’t answer that. I want it to be a surprise.”

Tucker grinned and led Dani away. Jason caught Tucker mentioning the Daily Planet and he had a feeling he’d have to check up on that later too.

Jason turned to Danny. “So…has she always been a ghost? If that’s not insensitive.”

Danny wiggled a hand on the air. “Eh, kind of. She’s a halfa too. But she’s also technically a Neverborn. So she’s unique in a way. Medically, Frostbite isn’t sure what to call her.”

Jason shook his head. This ghost-stuff seemed to be a series ambiguities wrapped in other ambiguities. It would drive Bruce insane. Jason was having trouble processing it all himself.

Danny must have misread Jason’s reaction, because he said, “Hey, Dani is fine. She has some instability, but with regular infusions of concentrated ectoplasm, she lives a normal ghost life.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason was too lost in thought to properly answer. This whole visit seemed like it had reached his limit of incredulity.

“I’m serious! Being a Halfa isn’t awful, you know.” Danny’s core trilled, and his hand reached out to take Jason’s. “And if you end up becoming a Halfa, I’ll help you out so you can avoid most of my major pitfalls. And so will Frostbite. And I’m sure when we talk to your Fraid, they’ll help too.”

“My Fraid?”

“Oh boy, this is a whole other discussion…” Danny trailed off, talking about the intricacies of ghostly relationships. Jason only half-listened, overwhelmed with all that had been revealed today, overturning his very idea of normal. He had a feeling he had crossed another threshold, and his life would never be the same again.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson had not been officially part of the Justice League for very long. In fact, it had only been a few years since Nightwing’s induction into their ranks. But he’d been around since practically its beginning, the Justice League being only a couple years older than the Robin mantle. He’d grown up around them, giggling from underneath B’s cape as the Dark Knight terrified his new teammates. Dick considered many of the founding members of the Justice League as honorary aunts and uncles. And as such, they usually spoiled him rotten. Especially if they knew they could get away with it under B’s nose. Which is why when Superman sent him a questioning glance about the familiar heartbeat in the Watchtower’s ventilation system, Dick just gave the Kryptonian one of his signature grins, and Clark left it at that. It was unlikely the Man of Steel was reassured, but Superman knew by now that it was better to stay uninvolved in whatever Robin shenanigans might be afoot. So, Tim was still hidden when Batman entered the meeting room to begin the emergency meeting he’d called.

“Is everyone here?” Superman addressed the heroes gathered. It wasn’t a full meeting. But the important players were present: the original trio of Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman. And also many major leaguers like Green Arrow, Black Canary, Martain Manhunter, Green Lantern, Cyborg, and Aquaman. Flash was missing, but he was usually late anyway.

In addition, Batman had requested Justice League Dark attend: Zatanna Zatara, Captain Marvel, Raven, Deadman and John Constantine. They were mostly present; Constantine had yet to show up, and no one could tell if Deadman was there unless Constantine was around to make him visible to the rest of the League.

There were other members present, such as Hawkwoman and Hawkman. Their presence wasn’t required, but any full member of the League was invited, even if they weren’t required to attend. Many of the other members present were probably there out of curiosity since Batman rarely called an emergency meeting. Dick had a feeling Tim had briefed his old Young Justice, because despite them not being full members, a few of them were present. Wondergirl – current leader of the Teen Titans – Impulse, and Superboy stood together in a corner and glared at Batman.

“Are you speaking for Flash today, Impulse?” Wonder Woman addressed the red and white speedster across the room.

Impulse startled and looked around the room as if just noticing his mentor wasn’t present. “Uh…no? I mean, I don’t think so. I think he’s doing something with Captain Cold today. I can check?”

A red and yellow blur sped into the room. “No need! I’m here!” Flash announced, nearly toppling his chair as he slammed into it. Surprising, considering the chair had been specifically reinforced for him.

“Great! Then, Batman, I’ll cede the floor to you,” Superman announced.

Batman stood, whispering to Nightwing as he did so, “Call Constantine.”

Nightwing rolled his eyes, thankfully not visible underneath the domino mask. He doubted he’d ever get to a point where his former mentor would quit ordering him around. He dialed the magician’s latest number, unsurprised when he received a message that the number was not in service.

“What’s this about, Batman?” Green Lantern – also known as Hal Jordan – asked.

“I’ve assembled this meeting for a gross violation of Meta protection acts and assorted intergalactic crimes that have been going on for six years, sanctioned by the United States government.”

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop with Batman’s pronouncement. Everyone was shocked, other than Nightwing who’d already seen the reports and Tim’s research. Phantom’s buddy, Tucker Foley, had a big help in getting the information B was about to present today. And Nightwing had helped compile the slideshow. Unfortunately, Tim had edited it, meaning none of Dick’s spook-tacular puns had made the cut.

As Batman brought up the slideshow, Captain Marvel began to cough when he saw the title slide, complete with a blurry picture of Phantom from his visit to the Batcave. Zatanna gripped the table with white knuckles. And Raven looked agitated, dark eyes staring at Dick with incredulity. Even Wonder Woman seemed discomfited by the slideshow, so she probably knew something too.

“Batman, how have you come to know about the Infinite Realms?” Zatanna demanded.

“You know of them. Good,” Batman grunted.

“Barely!” Captain Marvel interjected. “They like to stay separate from the living planes, and for good reason.”

“What are they?” Cyborg asked.

“I…I confess this is more John’s area of expertise,” Zatanna admitted, eyes flickering around the room. “Or Deadman’s. But none of us really know.”

Wonder Woman leaned forward. “I have heard only rumors myself. The Infinite Realms are so vast they control every underworld known to every race. And plenty unknown. They are said to be inhabited by powerful beings even the gods cower before.”

“What are these beings?” Hawkwoman gasped.

“Ghosts,” Raven replied, with a severity the room was silenced.

Flash snorted, breaking the tension. “Ghosts? Seriously? Gods are afraid of a few spooks?”

“We don’t mean your typical shade haunting or even Deadman. These beings are the sort who could take on superman and probably barely break a sweat. Matter and energy don’t affect them the same way,” Zatanna explained.

Captain Marvel shuddered in his seat again. “Even Achilles suggests I stay far away from interacting with the Infinite Realms.”

“A threat or not, there have been Acts passed that declare the inhabitants of this Realm as non-sentient and subject to experimentation and extermination,” Batman interrupted. His slideshow moved on to the slide on the Anti-Ecto Acts.

The Justice League all had another shock to their systems as they read the words that condemned an entire race of beings without any rights or regards to their sentience.

“They know this is wrong, by the way,” Nightwing announced to the table. “This was buried hundreds of pages deep in a much needed, but incredibly dry, agricultural reform bill. Politicians on both sides of the aisle agreed to it, probably not realizing this nasty nugget was buried within it.”

“This shall not stand!” Wonder Woman insisted, her fist banging on the table. If it were ordinary glass, it might have cracked.

“I agree,” Green Lantern said. “This case should be brought before Oa.”

Captain Marvel looked green in his seat, zoning out as he looked down, while Zatanna and Raven exchanged looks of incredulity. Dick was glad to note that the League’s Dark members hadn’t heard of these Acts either.

“Have the Infinite Realms indicated any kind of offense to this?” Martain Manhunter asked. “Any hostilities?”

“It is unclear, but preliminary reports indicate a singular inhabitant of the Realms is maintaining the balance between ecto-entities and those who hunt them.” Batman skipped ahead to his slides on Phantom. A scan of an Amity Park newspaper with the headline, Phantom: Friend or Foe? And the best picture they’d seen of the ghostly vigilante so far as he was captured mid-wave as he flew by.

At that moment, a circular portal of fire flared into existence, hissing sparks. John Constantine stumbled through, shaking his leg. “For the last time, blight! You are not coming with me!”

The entire room stared as John Constantine very nearly fell, catching the table and lifting his leg to stare down at one of the most bizarre creatures any of them had ever seen. And they regularly dealt with the strange and bizarre.  The entity was not even three feet tall and cloaked, with an oddly spherical head, and glowing a familiar shade of green.

“Constantine, glad you could join us,” Superman greeted, breaking the silence.

John Constantine and the creature attached to his leg looked up at the room. Dick flinched when he saw the creature’s head was nothing more than a giant eyeball, with an iris of bright red.

“Aw, hell.” Constantine turned towards the eyeball-headed entity. “Go home, Eye-saac.”

“No!” And the entity seemed to cling tighter. “As a member of the king’s council, I pronounce myself as his ambassador in his absence. And you need a Realms ambassador.”

Constantine growled at the ceiling. “Fuckin’ eyeball… Fine! But would you get off my buggering leg, you leech?”

“Sure!” The strange eyeball-demon unlatched himself from Constantine and proceeded to float up to appear he was sitting at the table. “Sorry we’re late! Uncle Johnny was being difficult.”

“I was being difficult?!” Constantine spluttered.

Zatanna seemed to recover quickest, perhaps used to the unique brand of Constatine’s associates. “And you are?”

“I’m Eye-saac! Councilmember of the King’s Court. Who are you?” The eyeball’s eye dilated in recognition. “Wait! I know! You’re the pretty magician! Constantine’s lover!”

Zatanna’s face turned beet red. “More of an exe, Isaac.”

The entire Justice League coughed and shifted with unease. Constantine just took his seat as if this were not worth the effort of reacting to.

“Constantine, explain,” Batman demanded. “This is a secret meeting.”

Constantine took out his flask and took a hearty sip. “I tried telling the kid that, but surprise surprise, the ghostling didn’t want to listen. And I thought living kids were obstinate.” He rolled his eyes. “For the record, I fully blame you. I wouldn’t have even touched the Infinite Realms until you dragged me into your mess.”

Dick blinked at the eyelet. “This is a kid? A kid ghost?”

“Yeah!” Eyesaac chirped. “I’m four years old!”

The mood of the Justice League sobered into horrified silence. Nightwing wanted to grab Batman and shove him back in a Zeta tube because the man was starting to get his pensive adoption face and Dick definitely didn’t need an eyeball ghost for a baby brother.

“Don’t look like that, you lot. Eyesaac was never alive in the first place. Spawned in the Infinite Realms,” Constantine chastised.

“Child or not, Batman is correct, this is a secret meeting. Diplomatic talks can take place another time,” Wonder Woman interjected.

“If you think you can get rid of him, be my bloody guest,” John grumbled.

“NO! I can’t leave Uncle Johnny! My King ordered me to stay with him.”

“Wait a second,” Captain Marvel interjected. “So when you say you’re a councilmember of the king, you mean the King of the Infinite Realms, don’t you?”

“They have a king?!” Green Lantern shouted. “And someone still decided they’re non-sentient?”

“If they have a king, that means they have a centralized government. This is good. Someone we can entreaty with,” Aquaman pointed out.

John Constantine muttered angrily at the air next to him. Eventually he waved his hand, and Deadman shimmered into existence in front of them.

The Justice League’s resident ghost groaned in exasperated relief. “Finally! Do you know how torturous it’s been, floating around here while they all speculate? They have no idea what they’re getting into!”

“Deadman, glad to have you with us,” Superman greeted.

“Yeah, yeah. Now before you do yourselves in by offending a magically powerful toddler, you should know the little observant attached to Constantine isn’t going to leave his side unless a different order supersedes his current objective.”

“That doesn’t matter! This is a secret meeting,” Cyborg protested.

“You’re discussing the Infinite Realms. You need an expert on the Infinite Realms,” Eye-saac reasoned. “And my King would be upset to learn of more mortals on this plane conspiring behind his back.” Was it Dick’s imagination or did the eyelet’s red eye just flash warningly?

The atmosphere in the Justice League tensed at the threat, even if it was from a ghostly kid.

“Relax, kid. Don’t blackmail the Justice League. It’s not like we’re dealing with archdemons here. They’re friendly,” Constatine – in a bizarre twist – tried to de-escalate the situation.

Eye-saac sat back in his seat, threatening aura relaxing. “If you say so.”

In another completely uncharacteristic move, Batman said, “Fine. Isaac can stay.” Actually, no, Dick should have seen this coming. Batman always had a soft spot for kids. Especially kids that didn’t listen to him.

“B, you can’t just – “ Superman started.

“Constantine and Deadman are the most knowledgeable among us of the Infinite Realms currently. Their presence at this meeting is crucial. And Eye-saac might provide a much needed prospective on an otherwise unknown dimension.”

“Fine,” Wonder Woman acquiesced. “It’s your meeting.”

“So, Deadman, what are these Infinite Realms like?” Flash started off the questioning.

“Don’t know,” the now-visible ghostly hero replied with a shrug. “I manifested through magic and godly intervention. I’ve never seen the Realms. I occasionally receive…vibes, I guess…when big stuff happens.”

“But other ghosts come from these Realms?” Hawkman asked.

Constantine interjected here. “Nah. While, most ghosts do form from necrotic energy that comes from the Infinite Realms, the majority of them that manifest in the Realms stay there. But there’s still necrotic energy on the mortal plane that can form ghosts without them ever seeing the Infinite Realms. They’re a whole lot weaker, which is why we usually can’t interact with them except in special cases.”

Captain Marvel picked up where Constantine left off. “But ghosts who live in the Realms are on a whole other power level. Opposite end of spectrum really. I could go toe-to-toe with one and probably lose.”

“To put it another way, arch-demons fear denizens of the Infinite Realms,” Raven said. “They are not creatures we want to go to war with. What moron came up with these Acts?”

The Justice League exchanged nervous looks and whispers at the new information. After all, Captain Marvel was one of their heaviest hitters.

The Justice League continued with their questions and commentary. Mostly it was Batman and Deadman fielding questions while Constantine butted in every so often with his two cents. Dick took the moment to slink away to sit by the eyeball-demon. It seemed most people were already forgetting about the kid in the room, and the kid had an aura Dick recognized all too well of a kid who saw an opportunity for chaos and couldn’t wait to sow it.

“Hey, Isaac, was it?” Dick sidled up, but somehow managed not to surprise the kid.

“Eye-saac actually.”

Dick grinned. “Spectacular name.”

“Thanks! Phantom gave it to me.”

And Dick was very careful not to let his surprise show. But it seemed the eyeball was bemused all the same from the way he snickered.

“You know Phantom?”

“Duh. I told you I was part of his council. Or technically I will be, one day. Right now I’m still training. But that’s why I’m watching Uncle Johnny! For the learning experience!”

As Eye-saac spoke, the pieces slotted together in Dick’s brain. He hissed, “Phantom is your king?”

“Yep! He’s so cool.” The eyeball sighed in hero worship.

Meanwhile, Dick’s brain was spinning. Did Tim know about this? Had an interdimensional, possibly god-like monarch put a piece of his soul in Tim? What kind of effect would that have on his little brother?

Dick looked up to glare at Constantine, who was busy batting away questions from the other League members and dealing with Deadman’s general complaints. “Did you know about Phantom?” Dick’s voice, cold as ice, cut through everyone else.

Most of the Leaguers stopped, staring at Nightwing in horror. It was never a good sign when the ever-bubbly Nightwing turned into still seriousness. Even Batman flinched in his subtle, only-detectable-to-other-Bats way.

“What about him?” Constantine asked.

“What about him?! He’s some kind of king apparently! That would have been nice to know!”

“Calm down, mate. I only just found out myself a few days ago. And Phantom is not just a king. He’s The King. He controls the whole bloody Realms.”

The meeting room was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Uncharacteristically, it was Batman who broke it first. “What.” The Dark Knight of Gotham hissed.

“You are in contact with the High King of these Realms? This is most opportune!” Wonder Woman exclaimed. “We may pursue a diplomatic approach directly.”

“Wait a minute, are you suggesting a child – that child – ” Superman pointed to the blurry photo of Phantom on the projector screen. “Is the king of these Infinite Realms?”

Eye-saac chirped, “yep!” He seemed completely unbothered by the distress this caused the league. Instead, he grabbed the tablet at Constantine’s seat and began to fiddle with it.

Batman was very still in a way that suggested he was currently updating mental contingencies while simultaneously composing adoption papers.

“First of all, he’s a ghost. That means appearances aren’t everything. There’s a good chance that kid is older than everyone in this room combined,” Constantine said.

Dick highly doubted that. Said kid had said “skedaddle” last time they’d been in the same room.

“And give me that back!” Constantine snatched his tablet from the eyeball ghost. “What the – are you seriously drafting a contract right now?”

“They’re fun! And I want to be prepared! What if Phantom wants one with your friends? He says he doesn't like deals, but I think I could convince him. I’m very persuasive.” Eye-saac’s feet kicked back and forth underneath the table. His singular eye was somehow giving off the vibes of a puppy.

Dick fought the urge to coo. Okay, maybe the eyelet was starting to grow on him.

Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Aquaman took the opportunity to snatch the tablet from Constantine and began to read over what Eye-saac had written. “A four-year-old wrote this?” He murmured. “It is quite detailed.”

He passed the tablet to Wonder Woman. She arched an eyebrow as she read over what was apparently a contract draft. “This is most excellent, young Eye-saac. I am impressed with your rhetoric.”

Eye-saac ducked his head, his green aura tinging pink. A sound like the squeak on a polished surface thrummed in the air. “Thanks. I have a lot of practice.”

As the tablet was passed to Batman, Superman spoke to the eyeball ghost, “Phantom has you writing contracts at your age?”

“Don’t go getting funny ideas there, Supes,” Deadman interjected. “Ghostlings are not the same as living kids. From birth, they need to do what they were made for to sustain themselves. And Eye-saac here seems to have been born a bureaucrat.”

“Yeah!” Eye-saac chirped. “Phantom lets me handle all sorts of infernal contracts! It’s so much fun! Demons are so tricky.” Eye-saac giggled and his aura brightened as if dealing with demonic loopholes gave him the same thrill as the trapeze had to Dick as a kid.

“Can you bring Phantom here?” Batman asked Eye-saac.

Eye-saac shook his head. “Only for emergencies. And he is very busy. There’s a tournament today-ish.”

“What does today-ish mean?” Green Lantern asked.

“Time in the Infinite Realms is funky, from what I hear,” Deadman answered. “It flows and ebbs weirdly compared with our dimension and it’s not exactly linear. Can’t be, since ghostly timelines are kind of cyclic.

In the meantime, Superman finished his reading of the contract and handed the tablet back to Constantine. The mage scowled at Eye-saac as the young ghost made grabby hands for it. But eventually he relented and handed the tablet back. The ghostling once again became engrossed in writing on it the same way a normal kid might be sucked into a game.

“Do you know anything about this King Phantom, Deadman?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Not really. Didn’t even know the king’s name until Constantine shared it. Like I said, I’ve never been to the Infinite Realms, so I’m not exactly in the know. But I’d know him by his aura if I ever sensed it. During the change in power six years ago, his new aura rippled through all the Realms. Funnily enough though, we only felt a true shift in power a couple years ago. Wondered why, but if the ghost really is a kid, the other leaders in the Realms might have waited until he was more mature to officially crown him. From what I understand, inheriting the crown comes with quite the power boost an under-developed ghost wouldn’t be able to handle. That’s part of the reason the crown is passed on through trial by combat, not lineage.”

“It’s inherited through what?!” Green Arrow exclaimed. “Are you telling me that kid had to fight some other god-king to get the title?” His hand gestured to the screen still displaying the blurry image of a gangly, teenage ghost.

“Appearances are deceiving in the Infinite Realms,” Constantine cautioned again.

“Footage of his previous battles does indicate a diverse powerset,” Batman acknowledged. He clicked through the presentation showing shaky footage of blurred fights. The Leaguers present gaped as the ghost boy fought all manner of opponents. Some seemed tame, like shooting green blasts at what looked like a grungy, young motorcyclist. Others were considerably more concerning, like a battle with a green giant covered in spikes, overtaking the town in plants while Phantom frosted everything with cryogenic powers. Or his fights with a commonly re-occurring vampiric ghost named Plasmius who often matched or even exceeded Phantom’s wide array of powers. The Leaguers were horrified to see Phantom brush off attacks that would have had them scrambling to pull their own protegees from the field.

But no matter the battle, each fight ended nearly the same. The other ghost would eventually tire, and Phantom would suck them up into some kind of modified soup thermos before vanishing.

The worst fights to watch were the ones where Phantom didn’t fight ghosts at all. Instead, he pleaded with white-suited government agents, and a couple of mad scientists in orange and teal jumpsuits who shot at him without mercy with a wide array of lethal weapons glowing green. They seemed to injure Phantom more than any ghost ever did. And Phantom just had a sad look in his eye as he used non-lethal methods to subdue the humans, even though it was clear he was powerful enough to kill them all if he so desired.

“The poor boy,” Black Canary murmured. “This has been going on over six years? Why has this never been brought to our attention before?”

“A combination of interference from the Ghost Investigation Ward prevented any communication from leaving Amity Park, Illinois, and the work of local vigilantes to keep information on the Infinite Realms from being widely spread. Not to mention, dismissal on our part early on of the occasional ghost attack reported,” Batman answered. He launched into the next part of his PowerPoint providing a more in-depth explanation of the Anti-Ecto Acts and evidence of the GIW’s crimes.  The horror and rage amongst the League, seemed to affect Eye-saac who was squirming with discomfort in the air, even as he was absorbed in his writing instead of looking at the PowerPoint.

Captain Marvel sped away at one point, face looking especially green. Dick couldn’t blame the Big Cheese for throwing up at all. Some of the evidence Batman provided was truly vile. Dick couldn’t imagine someone treating anything the way the GIW treated ecto-entities. He was glad they’d mostly kept Damian from the research, because one particular set of images depicting experiments on a glowing green animals would have ensured Robin’s most violent justice upon the Ghost Investigation Ward.

“How many of these experiments were reported ended?” Deadman asked shakily from where he hovered above. The ghost seemed to fluctuate in and out of the visible spectrum. Dick couldn’t begin to imagine how vulnerable he must feel to see his species like this.

“Surprisingly few,” Dick reported. “Much of the cases we uncovered usually ended with some kind of note about the entity in question being stolen before extermination protocols. Unfortunately, not all of them,” Dick noted with a grimace.

“King Phantom protects,” Eye-saac remarked, not looking up from the tablet. “And he has many to help him. Maybe more now because of his Birdie.”

Dick froze as Eye-saac’s pupil turned upwards to the vents overhead.  Dammit. He hadn’t anticipated empathic ghosts sensing Tim’s eavesdropping.

Batman caught on immediately. He let out one of his trademarked tired-Dad huffs. “Red Robin, come down from the vents.”

Silence as half the Justice League looked up in surprise.

Batman turned to Superman accusingly.

Superman raised in hands up in surrender. “In my defense, how was I supposed to know he wasn’t supposed to be there? You’ve had your kids do all kinds of crazy training stunts in the Watchtower.”

Batman huffed. “Red Robin,” he growled.

There was scrambling sounds from above. Then, a vent was kicked open. Red Robin dropped down from above, landing with the practiced ease Dick had trained into him.

“Good afternoon, guys, gals and non-binary pals,” Red Robin quipped.

“Red Robin, I told you to stay home.”

“Your decision was noted, but as it was stupid and I did not agree with it, I elected to ignore it.”

“Agent A told you to stay home,” B argued.

“Again, a stupid decision, therefore I ignored that too.”

For the rest of the League, they just watched with the typical mild horror of watching one of B’s kids do what most found impossible: defying the Batman.

“You’re grounded.”

“I don’t live with you. You can’t ground me.”

Dick stepped forward, ever the mediator for this emotionally constipated family. “We should save this for when we’re back home. Besides, Red Robin hasn’t done anything to jeopardize the meeting, maybe he should stay?”

“You knew,” B accused.

“He’d be up here with or without my help,” Dick remarked. He refused to get defensive. This would not turn into one of his and B’s screaming matches. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. And he certainly wasn’t going to let himself scream at his mentor surrounded by their work colleagues.

“He will jeopardize – “

“He wasn’t doing anything – “

“I was just listening – “

“You’re Red Robin,” Eye-saac interjected, stopping the argument before it could escalate. It almost looked like literal stars were in his eyes. He had floated over to stare at Red Robin in awe.

Tim tensed in a very controlled not-flinch. “Er…yes? You know me?”

Eye-saac giggled. “All the eyelets know you. It’s our duty to know the members of the High King’s Fraid. As soon as his core recognized you, the records were updated.”

“Holy shit,” Deadman hissed up above.

“What’s a Fraid?” Flash asked, currently leaning forward over Superman to better inspect the ghostling.

“It’s a ghost’s…hmmm…” Eye-saac chirped. “I don’t know the living language word.”

“It’s a ghost’s people. Their close circle. Kind of like family, but not necessarily related. Basically anyone the ghost thinks of as ‘theirs.’ And for some reason, Phantom has recognized Red Robin as his,” Deadman explained, with an accusatory look at the vigilante.

Dick’s heart began to palpitate. What has his baby brother gotten himself into? Tim – in his usual lack of self-preservation instincts – merely looked contemplative of this fact.

“What does that mean?” Super-boy growled across the room, echoing Dick’s very protective sentiments.

“Phantom has a cru-ush!” Eye-saac sang with all the teasing of a normal living child.

Red Robin’s face bloomed bright red. Huh. Dick was now torn to wrap his baby brother up in his cape and keep any ghost from getting near him again, and teasing him mercilessly for liking a dead guy.

“Wait, but he’s like fourteen!” Dick exclaimed.

“Not normally he’s not,” Red Robin muttered, and oh, that was interesting. Wait. How would Red Robin know that?

“When have you seen him not fourteen?” Dick demanded.

“Deadman,” Batman grunted over their bickering, prompting for further explanation.

“Crush or not, this is a good thing if he’s part of the High King’s Fraid. It means Phantom would go to the ends of existence to protect Red Robin if need be. There might be some slight possessiveness, but it’s not like Phantom owns his soul or any kind of demonic nonsense you might be worried about.”

“And it means our dimension might just survive the clusterfuck the GIW and American government made when they spawned the Anti-Ecto Acts,” Constantine remarked, his usual scowl absent as he turned contemplative. He was currently reading over Eye-saac’s drafted contract. “Hey! Did you steal this bit from my deal with Dagon? Seriously? The Justice League is not going to be forever in King Phantom’s service, twerp.”

“It’s a work in progress!” Eye-saac snarked back. “And you should be honored if you were offered for Phantom’s service. He gives us ecto-ice parties.”

“Ooh! What’s an ecto-ice party?” Impulse jumped in, before Wonder Girl pulled him back and shushed him.  

“Alright, stand down, pipsqueak,” Constantine ordered. Somehow the eyeball ghost blew a raspberry at the mage. Or at least the sound of one.

“Red, are you alright?” Dick looked at his brother, who – despite his initial assessment – stood far too still. It usually meant he was repressing his own shock.

“Fine,” Tim dismissed far too quickly.

“We’re getting off topic,” Aquaman pointed out. “The interpersonal relationship between King Phantom and Red Robin may be brought up at a different time. For now, we must focus our efforts on correcting our previous missteps before we may engage with the King of Realms that have been targeted by those under our watch.”

“Seconded,” Wonder Woman said. “As loathe as I am to wait, it is clear that we must abolish these Acts first and then use the legal protection to dismantle the villains who have taken advantage of them.”

The League began to discuss the ways they could show their displeasure for the Acts. Dick was appreciative the focus was no longer on them. And he knew Batman and Red Robin felt the same way. Gotham vigilantes hated to have their emotions in the spotlight. Or discussed at all.  

“You can go home,” Dick offered gently. Of course, that earned him nothing but a withering glare from Tim.

Batman grunted in agreement, but he knew as well as Dick that actually forcing Red Robin to leave would be a losing battle. Instead, they let Superboy drag Red Robin away to the protective circle of his friends who fussed over him in their usual incomprehensible manner. As long as the quartet didn’t run off on an impromptu mission, Dick was happy to leave them to it.

“I can have the Daily Planet write an expose on the Acts and the atrocities that have been committed in the interim. Rallying public support against these Acts is critical,” Superman offered, clearly volunteering his civilian identity and wife for the task.

“How can we sure it won’t backfire?” Deadman asked. “There is more rhetoric out there against ghosts than for them.”

“It’s all how we spin it,” Green Arrow pointed out. “Am I right in that ghosts have an advantage that aliens and Metas didn’t when we pushed the Meta protection acts?”

Zatanna nodded, sensing Green Arrow’s train of thought. “Ghosts are our dead. That’s not true in all cases, but anyone’s dead loved ones could be a ghost. And the GIW have obliterated the idea of ‘rest in peace’ with their experiments.”

“It’s even worse than robbing a grave or bulldozing a burial ground,” Captain Marvel realized out loud.

“You’re not wrong but you’re also not right,” Constantine pointed out. “Rest in peace’ is more than just a desire to leave the dead alone. It’s to ensure those who are dead stay dead. Nearly every culture has some kind of exorcism for restless or evil spirits as much as it honors their dead. We’re getting into nuances that frankly, the physical world has no business applying legality to. We’d be better off mind-wiping the planet of this whole business and leaving the Realms alone.”

“Not exactly an option,” Flash pointed out. “Is it?”

“No. Not advisable at all,” Martain Manhunter replied.

The debate continued on for hours. Perspectives ranging from the various members, and examples from various cultures outside their purview were brought up. It seemed everyone – even those not from Earth – both respected and feared their dead.

“Sooner or later, we have to bring Phantom into this,” Tim remarked. He’d been remarkably quiet through the meeting thus far, but his stance was determined now. “He’s the one who will have to convince the world the ghosts are here in peace. Or the one to give an ultimatum if the Acts aren’t rescinded. Either way, the status quo can’t stand.”

“Whose side are you on, mate? The Infinite Realms could obliterate us,” Constantine protested.

“You all have been saying it yourselves: The living either respect or fear ghosts. And if we can’t bank on their respect to rescind the Acts, we’ll have to resort to fear.”

“Red Robin, stand down,” Batman growled. Dick could understand why, a flush of guilt curdling in him. The Justice League was looking upon Red Robin with burgeoning unease. Unfortunately, an all too common expression ever since Bruce was lost to the timestream, not helped by Nightwing’s lack of confidence when the third Robin insisted Batman wasn’t dead. But even before then, Tim had always been the Robin that none of the League could truly predict. He was silent when the others were quippy. And he held himself with the same stillness as Batman that made him hard to read. He brought Bruce back from the brink of self-destruction when he wasn’t even fully trained. He founded a new teenage vigilante group that still kept much of their missions secret from the Justice League. And when he returned with Batman after vanishing from everyone’s purview for nearly a year, it was with a new name and a new sharpness that made him even more unpredictable. And none of them knew the full story of how it had happened.

Red Robin’s gaze snagged on Batman. “I am stating what you all already know, but don’t want to admit. Would we not advise the same to Aquaman if a government sought war against Atlantis? Would we not tell Wonder Woman to rally Themyscira if someone dared threaten their autonomy? We should be prepared.”

“We do not utilize fear to get our way, Robin,” Green Lantern said coldly.

Tim sneered. “Spare me your self-righteous Green Lantern spiel, Hal. B’s whole deal is utilizing fear. And don’t forget, I’m not Robin anymore. You all made sure of that.”

“Red!” Dick said sharply. “Stop.” He knew how much his little brother’s tongue could hurt. And if he turned it on the League right now, he wouldn’t be doing Phantom or the ghosts any favors.

Red Robin clucked in a way eerily reminiscent of Damian. Not that Dick would ever tell either of them that. But it was cute in its own terrifying way. “Fine. Take hours to come to the same conclusion. In the meantime, I have stuff to do.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “You still can’t patrol.”

Red Robin’s lip twitched, ever so reminiscent of a smirk that never meant anything good. “Who said anything about patrol?”

Bruce continued to glare.

Red Robin huffed. “Fine. I promise Red Robin won’t patrol tonight.”

That did not reassure Dick in the slightest. He was relatively certain it didn’t reassure Bruce either.

Red Robin headed for the Zeta tubes, his Young Justice team trailing after him. That definitely didn’t bode well. Dick was definitely not feeling the aster as he watched his little brother depart.

“He’s going to do something brilliantly stupid,” Nightwing muttered.

Batman sighed in agreement beside Dick.

“I like him,” Eye-saac chirped. The entire League blinked with surprise, nearly forgetting the eyeball ghost among them.

Constantine sighed. “And that’s our cue. Come on, hellion, I need a smoke and we’ve got other places to be.”

The eyeball ghost floated over and dropped the tablet at Batman’s seat. “In case you need ideas on what to ask Phantom about,” he offered. “He likes burgers!”

“Eyelet!” John barked, already halfway through a portal.

“Coming, Uncle Johnny!”

“We’re not done here,” Batman growled.

Constantine waved him off. “You’re discussing PR, which I will definitely not be able to help with. And Deadman’s visible now, so he can answer your questions. Call me when you need me to dismantle a ward or fight a demon.”

With that, the mage vanished.

“Surprised he stayed around this long,” Nightwing quipped.

Batman glared at where the mage’s portal used to be, before he retook control of the meeting. Dick made himself comfortable, knowing they all would probably be here for hours more to continue briefing the League and strategizing their moves going forward.  It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

A few nights after the Justice League meeting, the Gotham night air was cool and muggy, steam from the ocean and canals in the sewers coating the city like a fog after the last rain. Tim breathed it in from his perch on a rooftop as a wind gust blew past. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was home. And he was personally just ecstatic to be back on the rooftops. He was dressed with a domino mask and armed with a bo staff, but he had left the Red Robin suit at home. He was unfortunately still “banned” from patrol. Not because of his health, but for punishment for slightly traumatizing the Justice League in a meeting he had been specifically told not to attend. Also, maybe, just in case there were still GIW agents around searching for his vigilante persona. It didn’t matter, Tim still felt slighted.

If Tim had really wanted to, he would have patrolled anyway. But with the revelations Eye-saac brought to the Justice League, Tim also needed a few days to wrap his head around it all. Kon, Cassie, and Bart had helped, going as far as to stay a couple days with him to force him into binging bad movies and played video games, even if Tim’s typical modus operandi for dealing with uncomfortable revelations was burying himself too deep in a case to think of anything else. Traitors. But he loved them anyway.

The first night the team had stayed they had also held a video conference with more of their former teammate, Greta Hayes. Greta had since retired, previously known as the ghost hero known as Secret, but she still stayed in contact with the team.

“What do you know about the Infinite Realms?” Cassie had asked the ex-hero.

Greta was surprised by the question. “How do you know about them?”

As the team spoke over each other to explain what they’d learned, mostly deferring to Tim for his personal experience with Phantom, Greta’s expression grew more and more shocked.

“So…yeah. Apparently Phantom considers me a part of his ‘Fraid,’ whatever that means,” Tim finished.

Greta’s fingers twisted together on screen. “I don’t know much. I was trapped by the DEO almost as soon as I died. I know the Infinite Realms exist and I know that’s where I was supposed to go, but…” she trailed off, eyes growing distant. “Otherwise, it’s just instinctual.”

Bart began vibrating. “The DEO? Youthinkthey’reconnectedtotheGIW?” He asked in a rush.

The team had exchanged glances.

“It’s worth a look,” Kon suggested.

“Maybe the GIW was an offshoot?” Cassie suggested.

“Or a resurgence after we dismantled the DEO?” Greta added.

Tim just added it to the list of things to look into. “What else can you tell me about ghosts?”

Greta shook her head. “Nothing you don’t already know. I’m sorry, but between whatever happened between my murder and capture, I never learned what I was supposed to. And then you all rescued me. I had very little to do with the dead after that.”

“Thanks, Greta. I appreciate your help.”

Greta bit her lip. “From my own experience that ghosts are emotional and…and possessive. Be careful.” She looked away from the team, likely recalling some of the less positive experiences with the team. She and Steph still had tense interactions.

“Great,” Kon huffed. “Why does this always happen to you, Tim?”

“What?” Tim had demanded.

“Seriously? Half the megalomaniacs we encountered wanted to possess you in some way. Ra’s ring a bell?” Cassie asked.

Tim wrinkled his nose. “Phantom is not the same as Ra’s.”

Bart began numbering his fingers off. “Hmm, powerful? Potentially immortal? King-like figure? Obsessed with you? He’s checking off a lot of similar boxes, Tim.”

Tim replied to his teammate maturely by throwing a pillow at him. From there – as is typical for a Young Justice meetup – things descended into chaos.

But Young Justice had their own lives to lead, so they left yesterday evening. Steph and Cass had also stopped by the next morning, dragging a reluctant Duke behind them and one of Bruce’s credit cards. What followed was an epic shopping spree, one of Cass and Steph’s favorite past-times when they were pissed at Bruce. Most of the purchases went to charity at the end of it, but it was the spite shopping that mattered anyway. And no sign of the GIW around, which was frankly a relief. That meant they probably couldn’t track him. Which was as good a sign as any that Tim would be safe back out in the city.

Despite his friends’ best efforts, Tim still felt unsettled. He’d taken a break from the ghost research, after all the dead ends led him to wanting to confront Phantom or his associates directly. And unfortunately, the only one available – and Tim had checked – was Wes Weston, still loitering in Danny and Tucker’s dorm room doing very little other than online college courses. And Tim did not want to talk to the red-head again anytime soon.

So, Tim returned to the hobby that had always calmed him the best. Tonight, Tim was on a rooftop at the edge of the Bowery. Right at the edge of Crime Alley, it was a confluence of multiple patrol routes, and he was hoping to catch some shots of his family patrolling. Of course, he’d break up a crime if he saw it, but Tim just wanted the chance to unwind after the long week he’d had. Between Jason off the grid, Danny and Tucker’s disappearance, the idiocy during the Justice League meeting, and the fact he could do very little against the Anti-ecto laws and GIW at the moment, Tim was an anxious mess. But something eased in him as he managed to catch Black Bat swinging between buildings, a silhouette in the streetlights. He raised his camera and caught her mid-leap, a shadow in the sky.

“Nice evening, Birdie?” A voice whispered by Tim’s ear, causing him to jump and nearly fumble with the camera.

Tim spun around and came face to face with Phantom’s teenage ghost form, smirking with a fang peeking through his lip.

“Where have you been?” Tim hissed, tucking away his camera. “You owe me answers.”

Phantom held his hands up in mock surrender. As he did so, white rings of light flashed over him revealing Danny Fenton in all his undergrad glory. “Easy there. I had to get out of town for a bit. Wait for the GIW to calm down their ghost hunt. And take your brother to a doctor’s appointment.”

“Red Hood?” Tim realized as he recalled Jason’s disappearance. “For the Lazarus Pit sickness.”

“Yep. Frostbite thinks he’ll make a full recovery eventually. So good news there.”

“Thanks,” Tim said. Then he punched Danny in the arm.

Danny either didn’t have time to turn intangible or wasn’t able to in his human form. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You ran off without telling me and you still haven’t apologized. I had no idea if you were okay!”

“Wes told you – ”

“Wes was too busy trying to trick me into revealing I was Red Robin. And by the way, how the hell did he ever think of that?!”

Danny groaned. “Wes is…well, he’s harmless, really. But he’s really good at making these absurd connections. I guarantee he thought you were Red Robin long before I met you. Like, he kept convincing us senior year that Bruce Wayne of all people is Batman, and… oh my Ancients, Bruce Wayne is Batman isn’t he?” Danny stared off in the distance as if pieces to a puzzle that should absolutely not go together had just clicked. A pretty common reaction to people finding out the truth about Bruce.

Tim rolled his eyes. “How are you just now figuring this out? You know he’s my adopted Dad.”

“I didn’t make the connection! I told you, I take secret identities seriously!”

“Ugh. Fine. But seriously, you couldn’t leave me some note that you were okay? Or visit to let me know you were vanishing off the face of the earth?”

“I did! Alfred knew I visited you! Why not ask him?”

Okay, Tim did feel kind of dumb now. He should have asked Alfred. Somehow the butler did seem to have a way to be in contact with Phantom. But he was still pouting over the butler taking Bruce’s side about the Justice League Meeting.

“I was unconscious! And what’s wrong with leaving a note?!”

“Fine! Next time I will!”

The two of them stared at each other, glaring. Until Danny began to chuckle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ghost you.”

Tim groaned and put his head in his hands. “Is this a theme with you?”

“Um, obviously.” Danny grinned, and Tim could see even in his alive form his teeth were a bit too pointy to be normal.

Tim lingered on them a moment before his frustration and confusion from the past week returned. “You owe me answers.”

Danny cocked his head. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. I’m not very good at remembering what I have and haven’t told people.”

“What’s a ‘Fraid?’” Tim asked. He knew already. From Deadman and Alfred. But he wanted to hear what Phantom would say.

Danny’s eyebrows shot up at the term. “Where did you hear that?”

“Well, for starters you did when you first visited the cave.”

“I did? Wait, what do you mean, ‘for starters?’”

“Answer the question, Danny.”

Danny’s smile began to fall. “No need to get snippy with me. It’s…well, it’s like a ghost’s family and friends all wrapped into one.”

“Then why the hell am I in yours?”

Danny’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing, before it turned into a scowl. “Who told you that?”

“What does it matter? Is it true? Have you claimed me?”

“Okay, I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but even if you are part of my Fraid, it’s not like you belong to me. You’re still your own person. You’re part of Alfred’s Fraid, after all.” Also something Tim knew, but Alfred was family. Danny was still practically a stranger.

“Does that mean you have some kind of contention over who claims me?”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas, but it’s not that much different than having multiple friend groups. Yes, ghosts tend to be a tad more possessive than the living, but I – ” Danny huffed. “I don’t expect anything from you even though my core considers you part of my Fraid. If anything, there’s only benefits. You’re under my protection now.”

Tim fiddled with the strap of his camera bag. “Oh. But…why?”

Danny cocked his head. “Why what?”

Tim sighed. “Why me?”

Danny hummed. “Why not?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Danny laughed. “Oh, Tim, you really do have to have all the answers, don’t you? I can’t explain why. It’s an emotional reaction. Tuck may say it’s part of my savior complex and Jazz theorizes it has something to do with having a piece of my core inside you, but I like you. And because I care for you, I want to protect you, and therefore my core marked you as mine. It’s not something I chose, but I also don’t have cause to regret it.”

Tim shook his head. It didn’t make sense. No one ever cared for him just because. Not until after he was useful. It took ages for Bruce and Dick to warm up to him. Alfred had appreciated what Tim was doing to bring his family back together, but it took time for him to warm up to Tim. Young Justice had a rocky start where Tim had to prove his competency to his teammates before they ever thought of him as a friend. Cass and Steph both got to know him as Robin before they knew he was Tim. And the jury was still out on if Damian and Jason liked him at all. He knew he had unconditional love now. But it hadn’t always been that way. No one ever liked him at first just because he was Tim.

Danny clapped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim could feel hints of humor and nervousness wafting after him. Which was somewhat reassuring knowing that Tim wasn’t the only one anxious about their conversation. “My advice is to not worry about it. Ghosts process emotions differently from the living. You shouldn’t feel any pressure about reciprocation. But fair warning, I may ask you on a date.”

Tim was glad he hadn’t been doing anything or he probably would have done something unseemly like choke or stumble. Who was this strange creature who just talked about emotions so bluntly and brazenly?

Danny’s mouth twitched. “You’re radiating surprise. Is this really that much of a shock?”

Tim shook his head. “My family isn’t great at emotions. This is…I’m not used to being this direct.”

Danny tried to smother a laugh. “Well, growing up with a future therapist and then dealing with ghost development while going through puberty was a hot, steaming mess of hormonal imbalances and over-achieving mood swings. I was brute-forced into getting in touch with my emotions. But if it’s overwhelming you, we can table this discussion for later.”

Tim nodded. “That would probably be best.”

Danny hummed and trailed off, looking past Tim at the skyline beyond.

“So,” Tim started, “what are you doing out here anyway? I thought with the GIW out you wanted to lay low?”

“Hence why I’m trying not to linger in my ghost form. But the GIW usually stop their intense searching after a few days. Probably scurrying back to their next closest base to try and develop an even better way to track me. The major players are probably back at their HQ in Elmerton.”

Tim filed away that nugget of information for later though it was probably already somewhere in the GIW files Tucker Foley had given them.

“Then what brings you out here tonight, ghost boy?”

“I’m trying to pick up a trail. And ghost boy? Really?”

“Trail of what?” Red Robin asked, intrigued.

Phantom smiled, the fond emotions strong enough for Tim’s lingering empathy to pick them up. He hated how his face turned red, and he tried to shove his squishy emotions about Danny into a box to avoid further embarrassment. “Remember Nightmare Fuel?” Danny asked.

Red Robin’s mind came up with a search engine error. “Who?”

Danny frowned. “The baby ghost who attacked you? The whole reason we met?”

Red Robin did remember the ghost now. But he hadn’t thought he’d shared the nickname for the ghost who attacked him, and he expressed as much to Phantom.

Danny smiled. “Well, you were kind of out of it when I managed to save you. You were mumbling a lot of nonsense. Anyway, when I told the ghostling about the name you came up with, kid latched on to it. He is very honored you named him, but he did want me to apologize on his behalf for attacking you. Not his fault though. Takes a bit of time and ectoplasm for a baby ghost to become self-aware enough to control their actions.”

Now Red Robin didn’t have time to unpack all of that, though he desperately wanted to. “He was a kid?”

Danny shrugged. “From the feel of him, I got the sense he was a teenager who died tragically. Not that uncommon in this city though. But the power he had so close to his death was unusual. That’s why I’m out investigating. I have to find out what’s gave a new Gotham ghost such a big power boost after death.”

“What can cause a stronger versus a weaker ghost?” Tim asked, already latching onto the mystery.

“Two things primarily: the intensity of the emotions and the concentration of ambient ectoplasm. Your average ghost in the mortal realm only has a small amount of ectoplasm nearby no matter how they died, so no matter how intense the emotions, they are usually fairly weak. On the other hand, I know a Realms ghost who managed to die practically next to portal to the Realms, but in a shipping accident. So, he’s a powerful ghost by Mortal Realm standards, but his less intense emotions mean he’s one of my less powerful rogues.”

Tim nodded. “So, the outlier in this case is the ectoplasm rather than cause of death.”

“Precisely. And Gotham is a city where unchecked ectoplasm gets…weird. The confluence of curses, high mortality rate, and Lady Gotham’s interesting personality make for a city that’s hard to track ectoplasmic activity. It’s one of the reasons I chose to go to college here in the first place. It’s only lately that the GIW has even been able to isolate an ecto-signature in this city.”

“Are there hotspots of ectoplasm or is it more of a general blanket?”

“Hot spots. Places of more concentrated death – like graveyards or sites of massacres – usually have more ectoplasm.”

Tim began typing search parameters in his gauntlet. In addition to graveyards, he connected to the Cave’s database to isolate sites of high casualties due to attacks or accidents. “We should probably start the search near where I first encountered Nightmare Fuel. How likely is it for a ghost to remain near the scene of their death?”

Danny grinned at Red Robin. “I knew seeking you out was a good idea, Mister Detective,” he purred.

Tim’s face heated. He was so glad he’d kept his comm off tonight. His family would otherwise have a field day drawing parallels with Batman and Catwoman. He cleared his throat. “Maybe not that nickname,” he suggested, memory triggered of a leering Ra’s whispering over his shoulder in Nanda Parbat.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know ‘Detective’ is a pet-name a megalomanical, immortal assassin calls me.”

Danny cocked his head. “Huh.”

“Yeah. I had a bit of a quarter life crisis a few years back. I ended up working with the asshole, and he tried to make me his heir, and when that failed, having my child or clone.”

Danny’s eyes darkened, brow furrowing. “Hypothetically, who is this guy and where can I find him?”

Tim dismissed Danny’s question with a wave. “Don’t worry about it. The answer to my question?”

Danny paused with an intense look that promised they’d come back to this conversation, but he did move on, tone lightening. “It’s quite common for a ghost to stick around where they died. Ghosts of the recently deceased become aware knowing they have some kind of attachment to the place they are formed. It takes them some time to figure out why, but that’s why it can be common for a ghost’s haunt to become to site of their death. Especially if it were a familiar place in life.”

“Gives us a good place to start. I was patrolling the Narrows at the time of the attack. 56^th and Main. Shall we meet there?”

“Maybe. Can you grapple with another person?”

“Ummm, yes? Why?”

Danny grinned. “How about a lift?”

Tim flushed. “You can fly!”

“Yeah, but like I said, I’m trying to limit Phantom time. And I want to see what it’s like, flying with gravity to hold you back.”

Tim bit his lip. B would hate this. While perfectly safe, they usually only allowed grappling with others for emergencies. A quick getaway with a civilian or injured partner. Not…fun. But seeing the childlike excitement in Danny’s expression, Tim was finding all those arguments difficult to hold onto. And besides, Danny was half-ghost. All the usual dangers of a passenger on the grapple line didn’t really apply to him. And Tim wasn’t exactly Red Robin at the moment either.

“Okay. But do not tell my family.”

“Even Alfred?”

“Especially Alfred.”

Danny grinned. He wasted no time jumping onto Tim’s back and wrapping his arms around his neck. Tim was so glad Danny wasn’t facing him directly to see the red in his face now that the other boy was flush against him, legs wrapping around his torso. Tim stumbled only briefly, but Danny seemed to weigh hardly anything at all. Surprising, given the fact Danny was taller than him.

“Are you using your powers?”

Danny hummed in affirmation. “I’m sure it’s awkward enough grappling with someone on your back. I’m essentially floating right now. But I’m still human at the moment, so at least some gravity is affecting me. Would it be more helpful otherwise?”

Tim felt his heartrate increase as Danny’s breath tickled the hairs on his neck. “N-no. You’re fine.”

“Great! Onward, my steed!”

Tim rolled his eyes underneath the mask and pulled out his grapple, aiming it for a building’s corner across the alley. Just for that parting comment, he gave Danny no warning as he leapt and let his grapple line catch and swing them both into the sky. On his back, Danny eeped with surprise, but by the top of the arc as Tim grappled for the next building, Danny was whooping with delight. And Tim found himself grinning too.

They swung through Gotham, the city never quite still, but thrumming with a more sinister energy now that the sun had gone down. Swinging between buildings as nothing but a flicker of shadow in the hazy street lights was the sort of thrill that brought Tim back to this godforsaken city again and again. The wind whipped through his hair, his gut swooped with every arc, and Danny’s arms were warm around his neck. Tim couldn’t stop the grin on his face as they flew through the city.

When Tim finally set them both down on a roof in the Narrows, Danny uncurled himself from Tim and hopped off, practically vibrating with the excitement wafting off of him. “That was amazing! What a rush! How do you do that without being terrified of dropping or missing?”

Tim felt himself sharing in the wonderment of Danny’s first grapple flight. “We practice a lot before we are ever let out of the cave. And we practice every emergency situation we can think of extensively. For example, we all carry backup grapples.”

“But isn’t it terrifying?”

Tim shrugged. “We’re bats. If we had any amount of sense, we wouldn’t be where we are.”

“That I can believe. Poor Alfred. No wonder he manifests a balding head of grey hair.”

Tim chuckled. “Come on. We have a crime scene to find.”

The two of them made their way down the nearest fire escape to the street level. Between Tim’s algorithm and some kind of ectoplasm sense from Danny, they found the alleyway where Tim had been attacked by Nightmare Fuel.

“On the night of my attack, I was sent two buildings over to investigate and help in a potential arson situation.”

“Arson? Figures. Nightmare Fuel is a fire core.”

“Fire core? Alfred said something about having an earth core.”

“Yeah. Stronger ghosts can develop a core type. Mine’s ice.”

“Is that why my temperature read colder than normal when you’re core piece was inside me?”

Danny shrugged. “Probably.”

Tim filed away that information for later. “So, what are we looking for?”

Danny felt along the walls of the alleyway. He blinked, and his eyes were Phantom green. “Nightmare Fuel wasn’t formed here. I don’t sense the ectoplasmic echo I should of a ghost’s formation.”

“Is there some kind of trail you can follow back to the source?”

Danny shook his head. “Not like you’re thinking. If Nightmare Fuel dispensed a lot of power at once, like he did in this alley, I can pick up that. But otherwise I’ll just be wandering aimlessly trying to find his hot spots,” he answered with a grin reminiscent of Dick at his best.

Tim rolled his eyes at the pun. “Alright. Well, maybe the arson case is related. Should we investigate the site of the fire?”

“I don’t have a better lead at the moment. Worth a shot.”

Tim led Danny down the street about a block to the building cordoned off due to structural instability after the fire. Windows were already boarded up, but the scorch marks on the brick were still visible. He moved towards the building, investigating weak points and the best entrance when Danny held out his hand.

“I can make us both intangible,” he explained. “But only if we’re touching. You don’t have to. I can touch your shoulder, or – ”

“It’s fine,” Tim said. His neck warmed in another betrayal of bodily functions. He took Danny’s hand before he could overthink it and led them both to the house. He did pause in front of the wall, but Danny kept going, tugging Tim along with him. They both walked through the wall, seemingly affecting nothing. Tim resolutely did not think about how soft Danny’s hands were, yet still firm in their hold while the rest of the world passed through Tim like a dream and the only thing real was the two of them.

The inside of the building was blackened, the floor dusted with ash. The arsonist – whoever they were – had done their job well. Tim realized with all the excitement of the GIW and ghosts, he had completely forgotten to investigate this. He hadn’t even bothered to check if another vigilante had picked up the case after he had been benched from Nightmare Fuel’s attack.

“I think I feel something,” Danny whispered. “I have to let you go to float. Stay here.”

Danny released Tim’s hand, and before Tim could protest, Danny had floated through the ceiling. Tim noted to himself that Danny’s powers were limited in his human form.

It only took a couple minutes before Danny returned and grabbed Tim’s hand again. “Nightmare Fuel was definitely here, but he didn’t spawn here.”

“Are you saying…Nightmare Fuel caused this?”

Danny grimaced. “Unfortunately, likely. Probably something or someone set him off.”

“Set him off? Like what?”

Danny shrugged. “Could be any number of things. A death reminder, a dig at his obsession, or even the resurgence of a bad memory.”

Tim frowned. He wanted to ask more about the death and obsession, but remembered those were sensitive topics for ghosts. “So, bad memory? Does that mean we have to know more about who he was while alive?”

Danny sighed. “Probably.”

“Did Nightmare Fuel give you his name from when he was alive?”

Danny shook his head. “When I last saw him, Nightmare Fuel was still figuring out his self-awareness. He only had a few memories return about his life before. And there’s no telling how many he’ll end up recalling. Ghosts memories of their lives before can be…selective. The stronger the emotions attached, the more likely they remember. On the other hand, memories that are too emotional – particularly traumatic ones – may never manifest at all. Same way the living will repress a memory for their own well-being.”

Tim looked around at the stairs. “Can you keep a hold on me and take me to the source of the fire?”

Danny frowned.

“Please. I have to look for evidence. If we can figure out what triggered the ghost to explode, so to speak, then we might have a better idea where to look next.”

“Fine. But keep ahold of my hand. It’s not structurally sound at all on the upper levels.”

“Good thing I have you then.” Tim grinned.

He might have been mistaken, but he thought he felt a pulse emanate from Danny. Something bright and bubbly, that faded as quickly as it came. It felt like…pride and satisfaction.

Danny seemed to flush after that, and dragged Tim. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Danny had been right, the building did not get any better on the way up. If Tim was on his own, he probably would have come with a full range of protection. As it was, he only wore a mask to help filter the contaminated air of the building. Danny – apparently – just stopped breathing. Which was definitely unfair.

“Can you make me not breathe too?” Tim asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Can? Yes. Will? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you’d be dead, genius. Breathing is kind of important.”

“You don’t do it. How come you can just turn it off?”

“Because I have an ectoplasmic core that provides whatever I need when I don’t do normal human things.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “You must save so much time. You don’t have to eat or sleep or drink – “

“Aaaand, I’m going to interrupt you there. I still have to do those things. Using dead juice to keep a living body functioning is a lot of work. Yes, I can supplant ectoplasm for things like food and air for a time, but not for very long. As it is, I’m going to need like three burgers after our little adventure to supplement all the energy I’m using this evening.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And we’re here by the way.”

Danny stopped them both at the threshold of what appeared to have once been a kitchen. Tim didn’t even need an ectoplasmic sense to know that this was the origin of the fire. The entire room had the markings of the epicenter of a small, but intensely hot explosion. Tim stepped forward, dragging Danny with him. Looking at what remained, nothing seemed out of place. He made a mental note to look up the apartment number they were in for clues in the apartment’s history. Maybe someone who lived here was important in the ghost’s life or death?

Danny was patient as Tim took pictures and sifted through ash for clues. There seemed to have once been photos on the fridge, but they had unfortunately fallen and burned. Most of the cabinetry had burned as well as anything flammable within them. After about twenty minutes, Tim announced that they could leave. They both picked their way back through the house before leaving the way they’d entered.

Back on the street, Danny released Tim’s hand, and he couldn’t tell if the sinking in his stomach was disappointment or gravity.

“Any ideas for where to go next, Birdie?” Danny asked.

Tim shook his head. “I’ll have to do some research first.”

Danny nodded, and scuffed his shoe on the asphalt. “Figures it couldn’t be that easy.”

Tim had the abrupt feeling that he didn’t want his night with Danny to end and made an impulsive decision. “I remember you said something about needing to eat a bunch of burgers though.”

Danny looked up with a smirk. “Inviting me out to dinner? And here I thought I was forward.”

Tim shoved Danny lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s nearly one am. This is midnight snack time.”

“Well, I won’t say no either way. Lead on.”

Every Gothamite knew the best (and pretty much only) place to go for burgers late at night in Gotham was Bat Burger. And like every Bat Burger in the city, the employee dressed in a cheap Robin suit taking their order at the counter was unfazed by whatever late night clientele stumbled in to the 24-hour chain restaurant. The cashier didn’t so much as blink as Tim and Danny entered the shop dressed in black and smelling of ash and char. They didn’t even falter when Danny asked for six burgers, two chocolate freezes, and a large tray of fries.

“You want those fries Jokerized?” the pseudo-Robin dead-panned.

Danny wrinkled his nose. “And encourage clown branding? I don’t think so.”

“The Jokerized fries – tasteless name aside – are actually pretty good,” Tim endorsed.

“I don’t like clowns.”

The employee snorted, the only emotion they’d shown thus far in the transaction. “Who does in this city?”

Tim paid, despite Danny’s protestations. It was ended when Tim pointed out that Danny seemed very much the type to want to “eat the rich.” Danny’s response – to Tim’s embarrassment – was to leer over at Tim and reply, “was that an offer?”

Tim was saved a stuttered response by their order arriving, which they grabbed to go. After all, why stay in a plastic booth under fluorescent lights when the rooftops of the Bowery were free for the taking?

After a brief change into Phantom and back to fly them both up to a nearby roof, Tim and Danny settled on the edge, side by side with a tray of fries between them. Tim nibbled on his burger while Danny practically inhaled his own.

“Hard to go wrong with Bat Burger,” Tim remarked, suddenly finding himself devoid of any sort of reasonable conversation.

“Eh, Nasty Burger is better.”

“Excuse me, what? ‘Nasty’ is in the name. How is this even a business?”

“Amity Park favorite,” Danny explained. “Pretty sure it was supposed to be called Tasty Burger, but a prank got the sign stuck as ‘Nasty Burger’ instead. Name stuck.”

“Well, it’s still sacrilege to consider anything better than Bat Burger, you midwestern heathen.”

Danny snorted. “Heathen? At least I’m 80-percent sure Nasty sauce is made from edible ingredients. I don’t know what sort of chemicals are in y’all’s ketchup, but it certainly isn’t tomatoes.”

“It’s just normal ketchup.”

“No, it most definitely is not.”

Tim shouldered Danny playfully, who returned the gesture. They went back and forth until the fries nearly capsized over the edge of the roof and they were both snickering.

“Thanks for your help, Tim. I have a feeling Nightmare Fuel’s origins won’t be easy to track down,” Danny said, turning serious.

Tim smoothed the wrapper on his lap and began folding it. “It’s no problem. Least I can do after you saved me. Twice now.”

“Is that the only reason?” Danny merely crumpled his empty wrapper and threw it into their to-go bag. He leaned into Tim’s space.

Tim’s breath hitched as he stared at Danny’s eyes, in Gotham’s light, they were a blue as dark and mysterious as the ocean depths. Tim recalled what Phantom had said to John Constantine about lying to ghosts; their empathy powers were better than any lie detector. Tim exhaled with a “No.”

Danny leaned away again. He didn’t remark any further, though Tim was certain the halfa could sense his emotions from the way Tim felt a subtle smugness wafting off of Danny.

“Shut up,” Tim remarked, shoving Danny lightly.

“I didn’t say anything!” As if Danny weren’t saying plenty with his smirk. “It’s okay. I think you’re cute too.”

The back of Tim’s neck and his cheeks burned with heat. To spare himself any further emotional reveals to the damned empath, he stuffed all his feelings of Phantom in a box and returned to their ghost case. “Is there any chance of talking to Nightmare Fuel again? Maybe he’s regained more memories.”

“I can ask Firestorm for an update. Maybe we can go visit him later.”

“We? As in, go to the Infinite Realms?”

“Sure. I mean, you still have enough liminality about you from my core piece and being around your family, so you’ll probably be able to handle a brief visit.”

Tim was struck with surprise. “But…I’m living?”

“So is Jason. Mostly. And he did fine. Not to mention, I’m half-living myself.”

Tim nibbled on a fry in contemplation. “I’ll consider it.”

Danny grinned. “I’ll convince you yet.”

Tim looked up and smiled softly at Danny’s earnest smile. He couldn’t believe how light Danny seemed to be despite his circumstances. He had spent his teenage years half-dead, a hero for his hometown that neither ghosts nor humans seemed to particularly like other than a select few. Then he’d been given the burden of ruling basically every afterlife in existence at age fourteen. And he did this all without help and with the added burden of being declared illegal by his own government. Tim doubted many could come out of such an experience being anything but bitter. Heck, last time Tim’s support system turned against him, he’d gone on a semi-suicidal mission to rescue his father figure.

“You’re amazing.”

Danny turned to Tim and flushed. “I…what?”

Tim flustered, not realizing he’d spoken aloud. “You…you just…I admire you. You’re so light. So good. Even when you have every reason not to be.”

Danny’s face softened, and he leaned closer too. “You’re quite admirable yourself. Full of curiosity and determination. Ancients, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as stubborn as you. And bravery. And – “

Tim’s breath hitched as Danny babbled. God, they were so close it felt like electricity was bouncing between them. He leaned into Danny as if his gravity transcended the earth’s.

Danny cut off abruptly with a half smile, looking at Tim. “Yes?” He asked.

Tim blinked, realizing he was almost nose to nose with Danny. “Sorry,” he murmured, backing away.

Danny leapt forward and smooshed Tim’s cheeks between his palms before Tim could lean too far away. “Hey, don’t apologize. Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Tim felt his face heating under Danny’s cool hands. “Just…I should ask.”

“Hm. Well, your emotions are quite loud. I knew you were interested already. I could have pushed you away.” Danny’s hands relaxed some so now he was only cupping Tim’s cheeks.

Tim stared at Danny, seeing the faint freckles splashed across the bridge of his nose and eyes crinkled with mirth.

“May I kiss you?” Danny asked almost like a whisper, voice low and sultry that made Tim’s insides melt.

Tim replied by rushing forward, capturing Danny’s lips with his own.

It was soft, it was perfect, it was over too soon again. Because just as Tim contemplated learning in to deepen the kiss, his phone rang. And not just any phone, his vigilante phone. And with the ringtone he’d assigned to a Young Justice emergency.

Tim groaned as he slipped from Danny’s kiss. “I have to get that. My team – “

Danny brushed Tim’s hair briefly as he moved his hand away. “Say no more. As a protective spirit, I understand.”

Tim sighed and glanced at the caller ID briefly before answering. “Kon, this better be life or – ”

“Rob! Get over to base, now!” Kon hissed into the phone. There was something that sounded like a crash in the background. “Bart, no!” Kon shouted.

Tim stood, brushing crumbs off his clothes. “Kon, report.”

Danny frowned with concern beside him as he packed up their leftover food.

“We have an intruder! I don’t know how she got in or how she knows about me, but she won’t leave me alone!”

“Yoohoo! Clone buddy, where are yooooooou?” A girl’s voice called distantly over the line.

Danny held up a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh beside Tim. “Oh no. Did she find out about Superboy?”

Tim swiveled on Danny. “Do you know who’s terrorizing my team?”

“Tim? Are you with someone?” Kon asked.

“Clone buddy!” A feminine voice squealed in victory.

“Got to go! Hurry!” The call disconnected.

Tim blinked at the disconnected call on his phone before looking at Danny. “Explain.”

Danny quirked a mouth at Tim. “Did you know you get all Batman-y when you’re worried?”

“Danny!”

“Relax, Birdie. That’s just Dani.”

Tim shook his head, thinking he misheard. “Huh?”

“Dani with an ‘I,’” Danny explained. “Also known as my clone slash sister.”

Tim momentarily short-circuited. Then, after he rebooted, “Your WHAT?!”

Chapter Text

Clark Kent – currently in his Superman persona – was flying around his city. He landed on the top of one of Metropolis’ skyscrapers, holding onto the spire as he breathed in the cool night air. The city hummed with noise. Even at this late hour, the city rarely slept. He could hear the bass of a hundred clubs, and the rapid heartbeats of those within. Bars full of talking and drinking, and the rumble of a thousand taxis traversing the roads.

“Daaaaad!” A voice whined beside Clark’s ear, and he tuned out the rest of the city again.

“I thought you said you could keep up, Superboy,” Clark grinned at his son.

Jon Kent – also known as Superboy (the second) – was catching his breath where he floated next to his father. “I’m not as fast as you yet! No fair!” The teenager complained.

Clark laughed. “You’ll be flying circles around me in no time.” He ruffled Jon’s hair while the teen squawked in protest.

“Want to call it a night?” Clark asked. As much as he wanted to continue flying, enjoying the break from his and Lois’ research into the Ghost Investigation Ward and their many, many horrors, he knew his wife would kill him if he kept their son out on a school night.

Jon shook his head. “I’m not that tired. I got distracted by a Meta.”

“A Meta?” Clark asked. “Where?”

Jon rolled his eyes. He’d been doing that more and more lately. Clark fully blamed Damian Wayne…or possibly Lois… Nah, definitely Damian.

“Don’t go all Batman on me, Dad. She didn’t look like she was harming anyone. Just walking around. Or more accurately, walking through things,” Jon explained.

Clark was offended. He was not like Batman. He just learned it was good to have some healthy skepticism if there was an unknown super-powered entity walking around his town at night. “Walking through things?”

“Yeah, looked like she wasn’t even aware of it. Just staring at a phone and muttering to herself while she walked through walls and fences and stuff.”

“Huh, sounds like she’s looking for something. Maybe she needs help?” And a good way to verify whatever the density-shifting meta was up to.

Jon grinned. “So I can introduce myself?”

“Well, wait for – ” Clark started, but his son was already darting off. “ – me.”

Superman followed Superboy over the city, and then his son abruptly dived between some buildings and onto the street below. Clark was impressed with his son’s reaction time. He was improving. Certainly far better control than Clark remembered having at his age.  

He noticed the supposed meta-girl immediately. Because he wasn’t even sure she classified as human. Her hair was snow-white and pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her ears were elfin, and he definitely saw a fang peeking between her lips. Her eyes were a bright green that reminded Clark of the first time he saw Jason – freshly back from the dead and League of Assassins – in a state of Pit Rage. He thought he could see the rest of her glowing faintly green as well. But most damning of all: she didn’t have a heartbeat.

Clark had a hunch about what the girl might be instead of a Meta, as she looked eerily familiar to the blurry photographs he and Lois had been staring at most of the day.

“Fudge nuggets!” the white-haired girl without a heartbeat exclaimed. She tapped a cracked phone screen frantically. “Of all the times to forget to bring a back up ecto battery…”

Clark was just about to tell Jon to fall back. He didn’t want his son endangered by a potential ghost. He still knew too little about their abilities. But Jon was already darting up to the girl, and landing in front of her with a characteristic Kent smile. “Hi! I’m Superboy!”

The girl jumped with surprise, but never came back down – as far as Clark knew – for she immediately turned invisible too.

Jon’s face fell. “I’m sorry!” He shouted. “I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

“You didn’t frighten me, you just surprised me,” the ghost girl chastised, re-appearing behind Jon. “Who goes around jump scaring people in the middle of the night?” She was still floating.

Jon spun around. “I told you I didn’t mean it. I just thought you might need help.”

The girl cocked her head and looked over the costume Jon was wearing. It was stylized to look like Superman’s, proudly displaying the colors and symbol of the House of El. But it had it’s own quirks to it to make the costume unique. Changes that kept being made as Jon grew up and grew more into his own person. His own hero.

“You’re one of those Justice Team sidekicks, aren’t you?”

Jon spluttered. “It’s Justice League actually.”

The girl snapped her fingers. “Right! I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

Clark tensed at that. He could sense Jon tensing below as well. If a kid had been told not to talk to a Super, it usually meant they were associated with someone less than rule-abiding.

“Why not?” Jon asked.

The girl shrugged. “My brother thinks you’ll hand me over to a bunch of fruitloops in suits if you ever caught me.”

Jon grinned. “Well your brother is totally wrong. I mean, I haven’t handed you over to anyone yet.”

The girl had a feral grin, fangs shining in the city light. “Bold of you to assume you’ve caught me.”

And Clark knew that look well. He’d known Batman’s sidekicks since the first Robin still wore a leotard. It meant certain chaos, and Clark did not have time for whatever shenanigans a ghost teen might cook up. Especially one that seemed to be affiliated with Phantom.

Clark floated down slowly hands up in a gesture of peace. The ghost girl’s eyes flickered over to him, watching him carefully.

She turned back to Jon. “Dude, are you seriously hanging out with your Dad right now?"

Jon scowled. “What’s wrong with that? My Dad’s cool.”

The girl snorted. “Sure. Cool. That’s totally a word I would use to describe the most Boy Scout of the super-powered Boy Scouts.”

“Besides, we’re not hanging out. We’re training,” Jon defended.

“I’m Superman,” Clark interjected. He didn’t want to stand around forever while the two teenagers bickered. While Constantine had warned that ghosts’ appearances could be deceptive, it was clear that the ghost girl didn’t just look like a teenager, she acted like the real deal.

“Duh. Even if I wasn’t from this dimension, I’d know that. You’re kinda distinctive.” The girl actually rolled her eyes.

“You’re from here? Not the Infinite Realms?” Clark asked, curious.

The girl flinched. Her laidback posture froze with sudden tension. “How do you know about the Realms? Are you with the Guys in White?”

“Whoa, whoa. We’re not affiliated with them at all. In fact, we’re trying to overturn the Anti-ecto acts,” Clark interjected quickly.

The girl stared.

And stared some more.

Jon shared an uneasy look with Clark. Neither of them knew what the ghost girl was thinking, or what she seemed to be searching for as she stared at them.

“My brother’s gonna soup me for this, but I believe you. How’d you learn about us anyway?”

“Us?” Jon asked.

“Ghosts, my dude.”

Jon gaped. “I thought you were a meta!”

“What part of floating, glowing green girl screams living being to you?”

Clark put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Remember the emergency meeting I had to attend a couple days ago? Batman was explaining how ghosts are being prosecuted by the US government.”

Jon nodded. “That explains why you and – Lois – have been busy the last couple days.” Jon always had trouble not calling Lois “mom” when in costume. “And Robin told me some stuff.”

“Lois? Like Lois Lane?” the ghost girl interjected. “That’s who I’m looking for!”

Clark tried not to let his hackles rise. This girl hadn’t appeared to be a threat so far, but he didn’t like the idea of an unknown entity wandering around the city looking for his wife.

“What do you want with Lois Lane?” Jon asked, voice containing a new edge to it.

“Whoa! Defensive much? Why? She important to you?” The girl’s gaze flickered to Clark and her brow furrowed as if confused. “Important to both of you?”

This was treading a bit too close to revealing their civilian identities for comfort. Clark jumped in. “Lois Lane works with Justice League frequently. Along with her husband, Clark Kent. We’re friends with her.”

“Uh-huh, right. Well, I need to see her.”

“She works at the Daily Planet. You could make an appointment,” Jon suggested.

“Nah. Not really my style. Besides, I’d rather get this over with.”

“Well we’re not just going to take you to her.”

“I don’t need you to. Just tell me where to go and I’ll be in and out super quick.”

“No. I’m not going to tell you where she lives so you can haunt her.”

“I’m sooo not that kind of ghost.”

“Then why do you need to see Lois Lane?” Clark interjected.

The girl blinked her large eyes at Clark. “She’s investigating secrets of the Infinite Realms. We like our secrets. Secrets keep us safe. I want to know why she’s trying to reveal ‘em.”

Jon scoffed. “She doesn’t have anything nefarious planned.”

“No offense, pipsqueak, but I don’t exactly trust the word of some Justice Leaguer I just met.”

“I’m taller than you are!” Jon exclaimed.

Clark repressed a sigh. Rao save him from bickering teenagers. It was bad enough when it was Jon and Damian. “We’ll take you to meet Lois Lane. On one condition.”

The ghost girl narrowed her eyes. “What’s the condition?”

“No spying. You meet her, face to face. Lois is helping us drum up public appeal against the Anti-ecto acts. But information is hard to come by. We’d probably benefit from your input. We…we don’t exactly know many ghosts. Certainly none from the Infinite Realms.”

Dani tapped her chin in contemplation. “You’re asking me to do an interview?”

“Not necessarily. You can if you’re comfortable, but you could also just help us out as an anonymous source.”

“Is there food involved?”

Jon and Clark exchanged another confused look.

“Uh, sure? There’s probably snacks and stuff at ho…her apartment.”

Dani grinned. “Deal!” She stuck her hand out to Jon.

Jon went to shake it and stumbled from an unforeseen strength to the girl’s grip.

“Holy cow! How are you this strong? I thought ghosts couldn’t even be tangible.”

“You’re talking to a Realms ghost, baby! We’re a whole other class of ghost. Hey! You’re a Kryptonian, which means you totally have super strength. We have to arm wrestle. And then I can rub it in Mel-Rul’s face that I can beat your kind living and dead alike!”

Jon gaped. “Are you…you know Kryptonians?”

“Totally. They have a whole section in the Realms. Takes forever to get there, but they have some parties to die for. Pun fully intended.”

Clark didn’t even think of the potential to meet the ghosts of his long-dead species. If he got the chance to converse with them, the wealth of knowledge alone made his head spin with possibilities. Maybe interacting with the Infinite Realms would reap more benefits than anyone imagined. And the only thing standing in their way were a bunch of under-handed laws.

“We can talk more inside,” Clark suggested, cutting off Jon’s questions before they could really begin. “Follow me, er…I don’t think we ever got your name.”

“Name’s Phantasm! But you can call me Dani.”

“How – nevermind,” Jon started, clearly exasperated by the lack of connection between the names.

“Well, pleasure to meet you, Dani. How fast can you fly?” Clark asked.

Dani’s grin stretched to be even toothier. “How about you just go as fast as you want and we’ll find out.”

Clark and Jon exchanged another look. Both of them feared what Dani Phantasm would have gotten up to in Metropolis if they hadn’t found her instead.

Dani was fast. Neither Clark nor Jon went their top speed because they were only traveling through Metropolis, but Dani was able to keep up with them easily as Jon and Clark wove between buildings, cackling with delight and heckling them with, “is this the best you can do?”

When they stopped on the roof of their apartment building, Jon had returned to glaring at Dani, but he seemed to be fighting a smile as well. There weren’t many who could meet Jon for speed while flying. Only other supers, and Jon didn’t know any his age. As much as Clark dreaded it, a friendship with the overly powerful ghost girl might be good for Jon. A chance for him to really test his powers with someone who could match him.

“You two can race properly another time. Lois Lane’s apartment is a few levels down. Are you okay with a window entry?”

“My dude, usually I’m walking through walls. Window is like the VIP treatment.”

Clark smiled, and he flew down to the apartment window. He’d texted Lois before heading over. Although, that was only a couple minutes ago, so who knew if she’d even seen it, let alone unlocked the window. He landed on their balcony and knocked on the glass.

Lois startled from the desk where she was still pouring through information, hair mussed and eyes underlined with bags. Ouch. They both probably needed to take a break soon on this.

She scrambled up to unlock the window. “Why are you – oh, hello?” She greeted the ghost currently annoying Jon with rude faces while he returned with rude gestures. “Picking up strays, Superman? Hoping to outdo Batman? Because you are way behind. You’ll need to take in a whole orphanage at this point”

Superman rolled his eyes at his wife’s sleep-deprived teasing. “Superboy and I found a ghost looking for you.”

Lois’ eyes lit up with the intrigue of a new evidence falling into her lap. “Oh? Well, better come in then.”

“Hi! I’m Dani!” the ghost girl introduced, pushing past Superman to float into the room. “Nice digs!”

Clark thought that was generous considering they were in the study which was currently in its usual mid-story disarray.

“Thank you,” Lois replied bemused. “I’m Lois Lane.”

“I know,” Dani replied, idly, flitting about the room in curiosity. She whistled at the wall of framed certificates. “That’s a lot of awards.”

Lois smirked. “You should see the Pulitzer in the living room.”

Dani pulled out a battered looking composition book and pencil from her chest. “So you’re actually a big deal. Interesting…” She flipped to a random page and started scribbling in some of the most atrocious handwriting Clark had ever seen. He wasn’t even sure it was English letters. Maybe they weren’t.

Lois perked up at Dani’s writing, but a frown crossed her face when she couldn’t make heads or tails of it either. “Why are you looking for me anyway?”

“All will be revealed in time,” she said ominously. But then her green eyes snapped to Superman’s with a beam. “I was promised snacks first!”

Clark sighed. “Superboy, would you – ”

“Aw, but I wanted to hear what she’s here for!” Jon complained.

“Then be quick,” Clark advised.

“Fine. Milk, apple or orange juice, or water?” Jon asked Dani.

Dani tapped the pencil against her chin in contemplation. “Hmmm, have any virgin blood on hand?”

Everyone tensed at that.

“WHAT?!” Jon exclaimed. “Ew! No! Why would we – ”

Dani began cackling, doubling over and holding her stomach while her journal and pencil floated in mid-air. “Oh your faces! I’m obviously kidding. Apple juice is fine.”

Jon scowled. “You are awful.”

“And you are gullible,” Dani replied.

Jon huffed, head falling back as he pinched his nose. It was the same expression Lois made when one of her co-workers was being particularly stupid. And Jon often used it when Damian Wayne was being particularly Bruce-like. Clark could relate.

He walked out of the room, probably to calm down as much as get snacks.

“So, Dani, while we’re waiting, why are you looking for Lois?” Superman asked.

“Yes. And where did you come from? The Infinite Realms?”

“Easy, lady. I have a friend who noticed you digging into ghost business. I’m checking in to make sure you’re not a threat.”

“Hm. I don’t like there’s a data breach, but I’m not passing up this opportunity either. How would you feel about consenting to an interview, Dani?” Lois asked.

Dani choked. Which was weird, because Dani didn’t seem to breathe. Clark was doing his very best not to think too much about how a teenage girl who was not breathing and didn’t have a heartbeat was currently floating in front of him.

Dani turned to Clark. “You were serious about that?”

Clark shrugged. “Lois is like a dog with a bone with her stories. She’ll chew out every last bit of marrow until she’s satisfied.”

“But why an interview? The Living here think we’re non sentient.” Dani asked.

Lois clapped her hands together. “Precisely. I’ve been given the story of a lifetime with the government acts and crimes against ecto-entities. The kind of story that can change things. I’m looking at another Pulitzer with what we’re going to uncover. I’m talking a whole series, not just one piece. And what better way to demonstrate to the public than an account from a ghost? Let’s prove you’re more than some kind of re-animated alien substance. You’re clearly a thinking and feeling being.”

“You…you really want to overturn the acts?” Dani asked, eyes wide with hope and disbelief.

Lois smirked and turned to her computer, pulling up her draft of her article. Though, Clark was already dreading the weeks ahead if his wife was intent on doing a series. He could say goodbye to quiet weekends on the farm for a while. “Take a look for yourself.”

Dani’s eyes skimmed over what was likely a mess of spelling and grammar errors that Clark had yet to put his editing skills to. As she read, her eyes glistened. By the end, she was wiping away tears.

“I didn’t think…I thought Tuck was kidding about someone doing something about the Acts.” Dani’s voice wavered. “We might be free?” There was weight behind the last word as if it meant more to Dani than anything else. Clark’s heart went out to the ghost. No one should have to live with fear following them of being treated less than an animal in the eyes of the law. Especially not a child.

“Tuck? Is that who sent you here?” Lois asked.

Dani nodded. “But keep him out of it. He has a life. I don’t want it to blow up if this story doesn’t work out.”

Clark wondered if this “living” source of Dani’s was the same person who helped Batman and his brood uncover information about the GIW and Anti-Ecto Acts.

Lois cocked her head in sympathy. “And you’re not worried about that for yourself?” She asked, the mother in her poking through, probably thinking of Jon. Maybe even Kon, who used to think he deserved less than others, a part in which Clark had a hand in that he still hadn’t forgiven himself.

“I’m what Phantom likes to call a ‘free spirit.’” The girl snickered at the pun. Adorable. “I don’t really have a haunt here. So if things go south, I can always return to the Infinite Realms, or go to another universe.”

“Haunt. What’s that?” Lois asked, even though their research had provided some background knowledge. She was likely hoping for a direct quote.

Dani began to settle into the interview – perhaps unconsciously; Lois was good at making an interview feel like a conversation once she got going – rambling about how a haunt was like a ghost’s home and territory.

Meanwhile Superman was thinking about how casually Dani mentioned Phantom. The similarities he catalogued earlier definitely indicated a connection. It was clear that the ghost girl was at least familiar with him, if not directly related somehow. He had to wonder how ghostly relations worked. Were they both related while alive? Or were Dani and Phantom a couple of the “Neverborn” cases he and Lois had researched.

Jon knocked on and opened the study door.

Dani perked, twisting her head all the way around like an owl to peer at the door. Lois and Clark exchanged mildly disgusted glances. Dead or not, the human head should not turn around that far. “Are those my snacks?”

Jon rolled his eyes as he entered. A pitcher of apple juice with four glasses, a basket of popcorn, and a package of sandwich cookies were on a tray. “Yes, your highness.”

Dani ignored the sarcasm, and exclaimed, “You have Oreos?! Score!”

Dani hovered in front of Clark and grabbed the package, ripping it open. She shoved three of the black and white cookies in her mouth at once, moaning around them. Clark and Lois exchanged bemused smiles.

“Ancients, it’s been ages since I’ve had these,” Dani said appreciatively. “No other Earth I’ve seen does them the same as here.”

“You’ve been to other earths?” Clark asked.

Dani nodded, already popping another cookie in her mouth. “Oh yeah, tons. I get around. There’s just so much to see and do!” Dani babbled briefly about some of what she’d seen, including an earth still populated by dinosaurs, a world with a completely different set of superheroes, and one earth with no superheroes whatsoever. Clark felt abruptly humbled by his own multiversal experiences.

“How’s the interview coming along?” Jon asked when Dani took a break to shove more Oreos in her mouth and take a long drink of juice.

“Very well. I have a lot of good quotes already,” Lois explained.

“Wait, we’re interviewing already?” Dani asked. Or Clark assumed that was what she said. It was hard to make out the words from all the cookies stuffed in Dani’s cheeks.

“I’ll strike anything from the record you want me to, but I always think an interview goes much better when it’s more like a conversation than an interrogation,” Lois explained.

“Fine, but you have to answer my questions too,” Dani said.

“Well, in the spirit of conversation, I agree,” Lois replied.

“Awesome. Okay, so here’s my first question…”

Lois and Dani talked back and forth until the apple juice was nearly gone. Superboy and Superman mostly spectated. Jon zoned out occasionally, his fatigue from a full day of school and then hero training after catching up to him. But any of Clark’s gentle suggestions to go to bed were refused.

“I’m not missing this. Robin will kill me if I don’t have a full report for him on this.”

Clark sighed. “You don’t work for Robin. You don’t have to give him reports.”

Jon stared at Clark. “Sit through Robin’s two-hour lecture on proper research organization – which I’m positive Red Robin helped him with – and then you can tell me otherwise.”

Clark sighed. As much as he loved Bruce and his associated kids, they were all hyper-competent hellions and nothing they did or said should be considered normal behavior.

“Watcha got next for me?” Dani asked as Lois finished answering Dani’s latest question about what she had gotten her Pulitzer for.

Lois rifled through her notes, clearly starting to lose steam for the interview. Clark took the opportunity to ask a question that had been on his mind. “You are clearly associated with Phantom. May I ask how you know him?”

“Uh, thought it would be obvious. I mean, I clearly look just like him.”

“You’re siblings?” Lois guessed. “Phantom is the King right?” She turned to Clark to confirm.

Superman nodded.

Dani laughed. “Did I not properly introduce myself? My bad, but I usually downplay the whole royalty thing.” Dani straightened up and coughed into her fist. When she spoke again, her voice was deeper with a physical gravitas that hadn’t been there before. “Dani Phantasm, Princess of the Infinite Realms, and Heir Apparent to the Crown of Fire. And while I am often referred to as his sister, I am a clone of High King Phantom.”

All three members of the Kent family present exchanged heavy looks at that pronouncement. Clark had always been uncomfortable by Lex’s unauthorized attempts of cloning him. When Kon first showed up – much to Clark’s regret – he’d taken out some of his frustrations on the clone. Thankfully, his and Kon’s relationship had gotten better recently, but they were still tense around each other.

Dani looked around at them suspiciously. “Why does it suddenly taste like guilt in here?”

Lois recovered first. “You’re a ruler of the Infinite Realms?”

“Nah, not really. I don’t get to inherit the crown or ring just because we’re related. But if Phantom is ever incapacitated or Ends outside of combat, I rule in the interim. Oh Ancients! I was not supposed to tell you that. Please don’t tell anyone that! Phantom would kill me! If the GIW finds out I’m the backup plan, then – “

The air seemed to grow more humid, until the air was stifling. The ghost girl floated towards the ground, curling in on herself. She pulsed with green light. And Clark almost thought he could see Dani’s form blurring at the edges as if she was beginning to melt.

Lois jumped in to reassure the ghost before whatever was happening could develop into a full panic attack. “Dani, it’s okay. Your secret is safe. I was planning to keep our interview anonymous anyway, for now. No need to paint a target on your back. And we won’t mention anything about Phantom having an heir.”

Dani took in deep shuddering breaths.

Jon stepped up. Close enough to touch Dani without crowding her. “Hey, Dani, how about you tell me five things you can see right now?” Jon asked gently, in what Clark recognized as technique he’d taught from talking down others in distress.

“I-I…Door?...plant…you. blue eyes.” Dani stared at Jon. “Are your pupils hexagonal?”

Jon nodded. “Yeah. Krytonian thing.”

“Huh. Never noticed that before. Neat.” The air around them seemed to ease back to normal humidity levels.

Jon grinned. “And that might be the fastest I’ve seen someone come down from a panic attack.”

“I don’t think the attack hit yet,” Dani replied. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ve had my fair share of anxiety attacks. They aren’t fun.”

Clark and Lois exchanged soft, but proud smiles for their son. Jon truly was the best of both of them.

“No shit.” Dani chuckled, still a little strained, but that was to be expected.

“But you’re a clone! That’s super cool! My bruncle is a clone!”

“Bruncle?” Dani asked, stealing another oreo.

“Yeah! ‘Cause he’s a clone of Superman. But Dad didn’t really feel comfortable claiming him as his kid, even though he sort of is. But he’s alright thinking of him as his little brother. But I also think he’s like my big brother. But he’s also an uncle,” Jon babbled.

Meanwhile, Dani turned to Clark next, and oh, he did not like the feral excitement in her eyes, pupils blown wide and she was practically shaking. Like a cat on way too much catnip. “Oh. My. Ancients. You have a clone?! You have a clone! Dude, you have to introduce me to him, like, stat! And he’s stable? Like, can live a real life stable?”

“Er…” Clark started.

“He’s totally stable! He’s the original Superboy,” Jon explained, jumping in where Clark didn’t.

“Oh, this is amazing! I cannot believe there’s a clone in this dimension and Danny never told me!”

“Danny?” Lois asked, ignored by both teenagers.

Jon continued, “Yeah! Kon’s awesome! He goes to college now, but he’s still active with his old Young Justice Team.”

“His name is Kon? Is that short for something? Where is he? Does he live with you? How’d you get cloned? Was it because of an obsessive, rich fruitloop too?”

“Pardon?” Clark asked.

“I mean, I’m not going to tell you about his civilian ID or where he lives, but everyone knows Young Justice HQ is in San Francisco.”

“Okay, I totally have to find this dude, pronto. Can you take me?”

Jon was about to jump in with a definitive “yes,” but there was no way Clark was letting his son galivant off with an unknown ghost. Especially one that might be as powerful as Phantom. “School night,” he reminded Jon.

Jon pouted. “Aw shucks. We could go tomorrow? It’ll be Friday.”

“Sorry, super-dude, but I literally cannot wait. My inner explorer is calling me.”

“Now, hold on,” Clark started. It was clear Dani was getting antsy the way she paced in mid-air and the glow around her pulsed with energy.

“Thanks for the snacks, Lois! And the answers to my questions!”

“My pleasure, Dani,” Lois smiled. “You can take the rest of the Oreos with you, if you’d like.”

“Sweet! Thanks!” Dani scooped up the Oreo package and shoved them into her chest.

Clark tried again. “I don’t think – ”

“Thanks for bringing me here, Superman. I’ll let Phantom and the rest of the team know you’re chill. Bye!” And quicker than even Clark could process it, the girl vanished. He thought he could still hear whatever humming sound emanated from her instead of a heartbeat, but soon even that was gone.

“Well, she was lively,” Lois commented, with a bemused smile.

Clark turned to Jon. “Why did you tell her all that?”

Jon nibbled on a handful of popcorn. “She was curious. It doesn’t sound like she gets to meet other clones very often. And I think Kon would like to meet her too.”

“She was nice, but if she’s anything like Phantom, she is also incredibly dangerous. You just sent her towards Kon with no warning and he’ll have no backup,” Clark explained.

Jon’s eyes widened and guilt flashed across his face in a grimace. “I didn’t mean to put Kon in danger. I just thought he might like to meet another nice clone. Should we go stop her?”

Clark was ready to. He and Kon might have had a rough start and a relationship still somewhat rocky and unsure, but he still cared for the kid. “Probably.”

“Call him instead,” Lois suggested. “You know how he feels about you dropping in unexpectedly. If he asks for your help, then you can go.”

Clark sighed. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but his wife was right. He didn’t know if the situation was dangerous enough to warrant crossing the boundaries Kon had established. As Lois argued with Jon to go to bed in the background, Clark stepped away to give Superboy – the First – a call.

Kon was not having a good day. Okay, that was sort of a lie. Most of the day had been great. He’d managed to get through all his college classes without interruptions. Then, with the main bulk of Teen Titans busy on assignment, he’d answered a call with Wondergirl and Impulse to help take down an eco-terrorist destroying vital infrastructure in Chile. He even managed to prevent a landslide from obliterating a small town. Unfortunately, he’d been plastered in mud, and it had taken forever to get the gunk out of every nook and cranny on his person. Thankfully, he was still left with enough time to have dinner with Cassie and Bart back at the Young Justice base at Titans Tower afterwards. And while he wanted to stay longer and absolutely destroy Bart in video games, Kon unfortunately had to head back to his dorm to complete an essay due tomorrow. But that was when his day went from good to not great. Because Superman was calling him.

Kon almost ignored it. He was having a good time with his friends, and he didn’t really want to deal with his original if this turned into one of their arguments. They’d become more familial over time, but there was still some lingering tension from their rough start. The fact that the two of them didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of matters didn’t help things.

But if it was important, Kon didn’t want to deal with the lecture later either. Kon answered just before the call could transfer to voicemail.

“Hi Supes,” Kon greeted.

Bart and Cassie perked up, on high alert. He knew they were listening close in case the conversation went south and they had to threaten a Kryptonian.

“Kon, how are you?”

“Fine. Bit busy with friends. Is this important?” Kon didn’t really feel up to exchanging Midwest pleasantries with Clark today.

“Actually, yes. You remember the Justice League Emergency Meeting the other day?”

Kon hummed an affirmative.

“Well, we just had an interdimensional visitor. She gave Lois an interview.”

Kon decided this was now officially a team conversation. He put Clark on speaker. “A ghost stopped by? Are Lois and Jon okay?”

“Everyone’s fine. But the ghost was…well, she was interested in meeting you.”

Bart – with his usual subtlety: none – jumped in to ask, “Why? Is Kon in danger? How does the ghost know about Kon?”

The only reason Bart was able to keep from asking more questions was Cassie slapping a hand over his mouth.

“She isn’t antagonistic!” Clark was quick to remedy. “Just…energetic. And you’re with the team?”

“Mission in the Andes today. We were celebrating,” Kon replied.

“Kon, you should probably get out of there. The ghost doesn’t know where you lived, but she does know you’re a member of Young Justice. She’s probably on the way to finding the Tower right now.”

Kon furrowed his brow. “You still haven’t told me why this ghost is interested in me at all.”

When Clark’s voice came back, it was garbled and staticky, so Kon only got every other word. “She proclaimed…Phantom… Jon…just…but…powerful.”

“Clark?....Clark?!....Superman?!” Kon tried, but the phone just seemed filled with more static somehow.

“Bart! Is something affecting communications?” Kon asked.

But before Bart could check, that was when Kon’s day went from not great to terrible. Because a head poked through the ceiling, topped with white hair floating around them and large kryptonite-green eyes.

Kon stared in disbelief as he didn’t hear so much as a heartbeat. Cassie and Bart were immediately on the defensive. Red lightning crackled around Bart as he prepared to run, and Cassie was already drawing the lasso at her hip.

The head poking through the ceiling – which Kon was getting the sense looked very familiar – paid no notice to Wondergirl and Impulse,  gaze fixed unblinkingly at Kon. Her mouth widened into a toothy grin, complete with fangs. “Clone buddy!” was the only warning Kon received before the head flew through the air, now complete with body attached dressed in a black and white outfit. She wore white hiking boots – somehow pristine despite being the worst possible color for them – which were tucked underneath cargo pants, held up with a glowing green belt. She also wore a black glove on her left and a white glove on her right. And finally, a cropped black and white hoodie divided into black white diagonally across the middle, with the silhouette of a spiky crown, below which floated a familiar symbol.

“Ohmygosh! You’reaffiliatedwithPhantom!” Bart exclaimed, just as what Kon could only assume was a ghost collided into him, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing.

Kon gasped as the deceptive strength of the girl made his ribs scream in protest. There were very few things on this planet that could make his ribs bruise and he was not overly thrilled to discover another one.

“I came as soon as I heard!” The girl exclaimed with a squeal. “I cannot believe my brother has been keeping this from me! I’m gonna pound him into ecto-jelly for this!”

“Ribs!” Kon managed to grit out.

The girl instantly released him, hovering in mid-air, just slightly too close for comfort. Then again, faced with the exuberance of the apparent ghost, anywhere within hearing distance was too close for Kon. And with his abilities, that was pretty damn far.

“Who are you? Phantom?” Cassie demanded, still gripping tight to her lasso. Why the hell hadn’t she made her move when the ghost was squeezing the life out of Kon? The betrayal!

Bart cocked his head. “I think the pictures of Phantom showed a male presenting figure. No judgement if you’re fluid though. Just want to keep the JL up to date, you know.”

The girl snickered. “Nah, Phantom is definitely a boy. Though he’ll respond to they/them as much as he does he/him. But I definitely ascribe to she/her pronouns.”

“So you are related to Phantom?”

“Definitely. You could almost say we’re the same person.” Dani winked in Kon’s direction.

“Wait a second!” Bart exclaimed. “You don’t mean – ”

While pieces were slotting together in Kon’s mind, he still had to know what this ghost was doing here. “What are your intentions here?” He demanded.

The girl lay on her belly in the air, head resting on her hands. “Well, I was talking with Supes, right? And his reporter friend. Plus Superboy, who is definitely her son. Which makes me think that Superman might have a secret identity, just like Wes always said, but that’s not important. And anyway, Supes mentioned he had this other kid, right? But he got all flustered talking about it as if he couldn’t decide if you were his kid or his brother, until Superboy told me how you’re his bruncle and a clone. And like, do you know how rare it is to find clones that are mindless husks or de-stabilize before they can even do anything? So I was like, ‘I have to meet this guy!’ Dropped Supes and co. like a hot potato and now here I am!”

The team blinked in stunned mutual confusion as they digested that. Dani’s smile seemed to begin to waver as the silence dragged on.

“Are you saying...” Cassie started slowly. “…that you’re a clone?”

“Yeah, duh.” Dani rolled her eyes. “Although, I prefer ‘New and Improved Version.’”

Everything slotted into place for Kon. “You’re Phantom’s clone?”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Winner winner, chicken dinner!” She clapped slowly and sarcastically. Small green orbs of lime green energy floated out of Dani’s palm and popped like mini fireworks. “Speaking of dinner, I’m starved. Teleporting across a continent and then speeding all over this city until I found your tower definitely burned up the reserves. Got any grub in this place?”

The team exchanged looks, conveying a plan to each other without words that could only come the vast experience of working together in crises.

Bart grinned at the ghost, breaking contact first. “Sure do! Follow me to the kitchen! Say, how fast can you go?”

“Race a speedster? Now that is one thing I haven’t done yet. Give it your best shot, dude.”

“Crash! Okay, readysetgo!” And with a crackle of red lightning and a blur of green light, Bart and Dani sped off.

“Okay, now that she’s distracted, should we try calling Superman back?” Cassie asked.

“Nah.” Kon instead sent a text. If Supes was going to send chaotic ghost gremlins his way, he was going to make him suffer. He texted, Ghost clone here. She’s bonding with Impulse. Don’t come.

Anyone on the Justice League would understandably quiver at the thought of Impulse bonding with anyone who shared his penchant for chaos. Best to let Clark stew a bit. It took a few seconds for the text to go through, apparently the tech glitch was still slowing things down.

Meanwhile, Cassie asked, “We’re calling Tim though, right?”

“Obviously,” Kon replied. He still wasn’t sure quite how he felt meeting another seemingly friendly clone, but he knew Tim would kill him if he let an unvetted person wander around the Young Justice headquarters unchecked. Not to mention, the person who knew the most about Phantom and ghosts right now was Red Robin. He pulled out his phone and sent through an emergency call to Red Robin’s number, hoping Bart was able to distract Dani long enough.

Chapter Text

Tim wished he was only annoyed that Young Justice had interrupted his time with Danny. And yet, he was more disquieted and anxious. It should have been comforting to hear Danny talk fondly of his clone/sister. But with every anecdote Danny shared of Danielle Phantasm, Tim’s concern only grew. He wasn’t sure which contingencies he should prioritize for a feral gremlin who considered pranking demonic entities a relaxing afternoon. Would it be typical intruder protocols once he arrived or should he fear for whatever team-up would result once Bart decided Dani was more friend-shaped than enemy-shaped?

Tim made quick work of scaling down the building, heading for the nearest Zeta tube. He knew B would be pissed considering part of his “grounding” included Zeta tube access being revoked. But B would understand. Probably. A more chaotic version of Danny allying with the original Young Justice team should give any superhero with sense a cause for alarm.

Danny floated down to land next to Tim. “What’s the rush? I told you Dani is friendly.”

“You told me one time you and Dani hung out to start an ecto-paintball war with actual dead vikings. And called it relaxing!”

“To be fair, it was. Normally Pandora is having me spar with actual weapons. Paintballs hurt a hell of a lot less than a battle-axe chopping off my arm.”

Tim had concerns about past dismemberment, but he couldn’t let himself get distracted. “Listen, Dani sounds fun, and I’d love to meet her. But I want you to consider for a moment what the consequences would be of her becoming friends with the same team with whom I exercised most of my teenage rebellion.”

Danny cocked his head. “Can’t be that bad.”

“I once stole Batman’s stash of kryptonite so that I could fashion a needle and give Superboy as many piercings as he wanted to piss of Superman. Kon was throwing up for two days. I embezzled a Batmobile for myself in the Batarang budget and kept it at Young Justice HQ. As far as I know, I’m still off the hook for that incident. And that doesn’t even touch on all the times we went to space when we weren’t allowed.”

Danny stared off in the distance as Tim ranted. “You just got even hotter,” he muttered.

Tim’s brain short-circuited. He stumbled, and only bat reflexes kept him from falling on his face.

“You’re right,” Danny continued, oblivious or just unconcerned with Tim’s almost heart attack. “Dani will absolutely be a terrible influence. Tell me where your headquarters are, I’ll portal us there.”

Tim spluttered, still rebooting after Danny’s directness. “What? Who says you’re coming?”

“Tim, you are a highly capable and cunning vigilante, but I am afraid that even you don’t have much of a chance of putting a stop to whatever chaos my sister has set her mind to. So, where are we going?”

Tim sighed. “San Francisco.” He pulled out his phone to give Danny the exact coordinates.

“Awesome. Portaling is always easier when it’s somewhere I’ve been before. I remember a hot dog stand about a block away when my parents took us on a family trip to Alcatraz.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It wasn’t. They were hoping to catch some ghosts in the old prison. Consequently, they are now banned from any National Parks.”

Tim had several follow up questions, but he knew now wasn’t the time or place to ask them.

Danny rolled his shoulders and was soon enveloped in a bright white light. Where Danny Fenton once stood, Phantom now floated. Not in his teenage form either. This was the form he’d shown Tim following Scarecrow’s attack. Tim would never admit to it, but he felt his heart quicken when Danny turned his smirking fangs and bright green eyes on Tim. With a long, clawed finger, he literally ripped a glowing green portal in space. For a moment, Tim got a glimpse of someplace with black and green skies, and then it swirled into the brick and concrete of a San Francisco alleyway.

“After you,” Danny said with a gesture to the portal.

“And it’s safe?” Tim asked. He trusted Danny. Portals in spacetime, not so much.

“Definitely. We’re not dimension hopping and it’s somewhere I remember, so it’s safer than most of the portals I make.”

Tim nodded and steeled himself before leaping through the portal. He felt a slight chill up his spine as he passed through as if he were literally brushing against death. Once through, he could already tell by the change in smell that Danny’s portal had worked. He was in San Francisco.

Phantom followed Tim through and then zipped up the portal behind him. “Best not to leave these things around. Never know who’s going to fall into one. I’ll make a new one when we go back.”

“Are you going to shift back?” Tim asked. “What if there’s GIW around?”

“Then I’ll be essentially leading them on a wild goose chase in San Francisco. I don’t expect us to be sticking around long enough for them to find me. Besides, I’d rather the superhero community not know my civilian ID.”

“You let me know.”

Phantom’s gaze seemed particularly intense. “You’re a special case.”

Tim felt his cheeks heat and looked away. “Come on, Tower is this way.”

Tim led Phantom around the block into another alley, standing by a door that looked like it lead to the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. It was another entry point Tim had recently added to the tower, and he preferred it to the much more obvious main entrance.

Phantom didn’t comment, but smiled with amusement as Tim uncovered a hidden keypad and bio-scanner next to the rusty metal door.

“Recognized Robin 03,” the scanner beeped, followed by the slide of bolts and the click of the door unlocking.

Red Robin and Phantom headed through a hallway and then up an elevator to the floor allocated to Young Justice, despite the team having been absorbed into the Teen Titans. But Young Justice had a special bond from their days throwing themselves into extreme danger, teenage rebellion, and fickle mentors. Usually the floor was used for hang outs rather than any actual hero work. Tim knew as soon as he heard Bart and Cassie’s voices in the background of Kon’s phone call that this was where they would be.

The elevator doors opened to the open floor plan which included a high-tech TV station, lounge area with couches that had seen better days, kitchen, and various tables for any need imaginable from eating to running science experiments to some good old-fashioned studying. Currently, the kitchen was a semi-disaster. Not out of the ordinary, especially if the team had just got done with a mission. However, the main space did look like a college Finals week had vomited in it. Tim had a hunch Kon had brought his schoolwork in hopes of studying in the interim if the mission ended up taking multiple days, but an excitable Bart was prone to making pages fly that weren’t weighed down. Otherwise, there wasn’t any obvious indication of an attack.

Tim reached for his bo staff and assembled it.

“Dude, that is not going to work against my sister,” Phantom remarked.

Tim shook his head. “Don’t underestimate the power of the staff.”

“She can be intangible,” Phantom pointed out.

“Shut up.”

A blur of red and yellow sparking with red lightning zoomed into the room and stopped right in front of Tim and Danny, the resulting wind kicking up some of the papers and ruffling Tim’s hair.

“Hi, Impulse,” Tim greeted.

“Rob! You’re here! OfCourseYou’reHere, KonCalled. Who’s your friend?” As usual Bart’s mouth moved quicker than his thoughts. But when he realized why Phantom looked familiar, his eyes widened comically. “Oh my God! Is that Phantom? He’s – I know you said you knew him, but he’s here! ThisIsSoCrash!”

Phantom smiled, bemused. “Hi. Pleasure to meet at friend of Red Robin’s.”

“You’re Phantom. King Phantom. Should I bow? I feel like I’m supposed to bow.”

Danny laughed. “Nah. You’re not dead…well, not dead anymore,” Danny remarked, gaze lingering over Impulse curiously. “How do you know so many undead people, Birdie?”

“Huh?” Bart blinked. Then his grin turned mischievous, and he turned to Tim. “Birdie?”

Tim fought off a blush. “Not important. Kon called my emergency line. What’s going on?”

“Oh yeah. So this ghost girl showed up and latched onto Kon like a spider monkey. Something about clones, and ohmygod! She’sYourclone!”

Phantom smiled. “Sure is! Though any trouble-making she’s caused, she definitely gets from her Creator.”

Tim cocked his head in confusion. “What?”

Danny smirked. “You’re not the only one with a megalomaniac obsessed with cloning you.”

Tim was definitely going to unpack that later. How did one even clone a ghost?

In the meantime, Kon sped into the main living area of the floor, diving behind a couch.

“Dude, that will not hide you,” Phantom remarked as he looked down at Superboy.

Kon narrowed his eyes. “Rob, who the fuck is this?”

Impulse leaned over Kon too. “Don’t you recognize him? From the League meeting?”

Kon’s narrowed eyes of suspicion began to stretch in awe. “You’re Phantom!”

“In the flesh! Well, more like in the ectoplasm. But that doesn’t roll off the tongue nearly as well. Where’s my sister?”

“We had Cassie distracting her with her lasso so Kon could get away,” Impulse explained.

Danny sighed. “Did you try asking her to leave you alone?”

“I couldn’t get a word in edgewise!” Kon complained. Superboy then turned to Tim. “Why is he even here?”

Tim arched an eyebrow. “You expect me to somehow subdue a ghost with the same powerset as Phantom?”

“You’re Rob! If anyone can, it’s you!”

“He’s got a point, Birdie. You probably could subdue me. In fact I would welcome it.” Danny wagged his brow in that teasing way of his that had heat creeping up Tim’s neck.

He shoved the ghost boy away as he leaned closer. “Not now, Phantom.”

Bart and Kon exchanged incredulous looks that slowly turned into smirks that did not in any way bode well for Tim.

“Well, well…seems we were right about a little ghostly infatuation,” Kon remarked. “And if my Rob-senses are correct, seems like it’s reciprocated.”

Bart squealed. “ThisIsGreat! It’sBeenSoLongSinceYouDatedSomeone! AndIt’sMyTurnToGiveTheShovelTalk!”

“Guys! It’s been one date! That you all interrupted!” Tim protested. Then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth as he realized what he said.

“That was a date?” Danny asked. “I thought that was a case?”

“I…”

Bart scoffed. “Please. For Rob, that is a date.”

“Yeah. Did he treat you afterwards? That’s usually a good indicator between a normal patrol and date-patrol,” Kon added. “Tim makes a great Sugar Daddy.” That earned him a thwack from Tim’s bo staff. Not that it affected Kon other than making him grin wider. Stupid Kryptonian invulnerability.

Danny smiled at Tim. “You should have said so earlier. I would have flirted a lot more.”

“I kissed you!” Tim said. “What else could that mean?!” Though, he really hadn’t considered the night a date himself until that point. Pity it had been interrupted by his horrible friends and Danny’s clone.

“Well, you weren’t really giving off those vibes until you were about to kiss me,” Danny replied.

“Someone kissed you?! Who?” A voice from behind the four them shouted. Everyone except Danny flinched.

Phantom turned his head 180-degrees before his body followed. Creepy, yet fascinating. He beamed at a floating girl with the same bright green eyes, face shape, and color scheme. In fact, the only thing that was different between them was the masculine versus feminine presentation. Danny was taller, and did sport more eldritch features, but the girl still had pointed ears and fang-like teeth. And her hair was longer and pulled back in ponytail. Plus, she was dressed down in basically ghostly cargo pants and a hoodie with Phantom’s logo.

“Hey, Gremlin!” Danny shouted and flew over to embrace the other ghost in a tackle.

The other ghost squirmed, attempting to get away. “Gerroff, Danny!”

“Hey! Names! We’re not in the Realms, squirt.”

“Stupid! They already know I’m named Dani!”

“You’re both named Danny? Doesn’t that get confusing?” Bart asked.

“Exactly,” Danny and Dani replied in unison.

“If it helps, I’m Dani with an ‘I.’”

“It does not,” Tim replied.

Cassie slid into the room, gasping for breath. “I lost her! She’s – oh, she’s here. And Rob! Thank the gods! We’re saved.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” Tim trailed off as he watched Phantom and his clone wrestle in midair. Somehow Dani had gotten Phantom’s arm in her mouth and was now gnawing on it.

“Wondergirl, you’ve missed so much! Rob is datingPhantomNowAndTheyKissedAndIt’sMyTurnToGiveTheShovelTalk!” Bart exclaimed, too fast to truly understand.

But it was enough for Cassie to get the gist. “So you decided to date ghost boy after all?”

“Not you too!” Tim groaned. “It’s been one date! Please be the reasonable one!”

Cassie barked a laugh. “Not a chance, Boy Wonder! Does Nightwing know? He’s going to blow a fuse and go all Papa Bat on you.”

Tim groaned. His friends were all awful. And Danny just threw his sister through a wall. Literally. Great…

“Phantom! Please stop wrestling your clone sister in the Young Justice living room,” Tim requested.

Dani popped back through the wall. “Rude! It’s how we show affection. Get on our level, scrub!”

Danny just laughed. “Fine. We’ll tone it down. Lucky for you we just had an epic brawl on Tournament Day.”

“Tournament Day?” Cassie asked, always intrigued about some good, old-fashioned organized combat.

“It was so sweet! I totally creamed this dude named Gi’tlar!...” Dani launched into a play by play of her battle with some kind of ogre ghost. And then switched over to her battle with Phantom. Which was clearly somewhat embellished by the way Danny rolled his eyes every few sentences. But fondly. It was clear Danny cared a lot for Dani, even if she was a clone created by one of his rouges. Tim wished Kon could have had the same support when he first started out.

“So, why did she come here?” Kon asked Danny in a whisper as Dani regaled everyone else with her fight against Danny.

Phantom shrugged. “She was curious. While Dani and I are close and she has a lot of friends, she doesn’t know anyone else like her. Dani is unique in all the Realms being a clone of an already rare brand of ghost. She probably just wanted to meet someone who could relate to the clone-side of herself in the same way she knows a lot of people to connect to for her ghostly side. No harm.”

Kon shuffled. “I…I would like to get to know another clone too. But she comes off…”

“Exuberant?”

Kon frowned. “That’s being generous. We thought we were being attacked at first.”

Danny sighed. “I’ll talk to her about boundaries. Again. She’s just really friendly. And for the dead, greetings are a lot more…physical. And that’s before getting into the trauma dump of how she was made by a man that denied her the affection she deserved. That plus her emotional instincts as a ghost lead to…well, this.”

Tim rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “They understand. This group is familiar with parental figures failing to give proper care and attention.”

“Hey, dum-dums! Story’s not over yet!” Dani interrupted them.

Danny huffed. “I was there! I don’t need to listen to you bastardize our fight.”

Dani squawked. “I am only telling them the truth.”

“Bullshit! You did not flip me into the Stands. You barely flipped me at all!”

“Oh, well how would you tell it then?”

Danny grinned. “Well, you see…”

As Danny began his own tale of his latest fight with his sister – so weird; not that Tim had room to talk – Tim sat by his side and let Danny curl a cold pinky with his own. Tim let his own shoulder lean against Phantom, surprised by the soft sturdiness of the ghost form. This was nice. And he could see this happening again in the future. Though he didn’t quite understand some parts of the fight. Some of the moves Danny explained made him sound at least twice as tall.

Tim’s old team hung out with Danny and Dani into the early morning. Stories of everyone’s most epic fights naturally transitioned into a Mario Kart competition. Despite her powers, Dani seemed to have trouble keeping up with Tim’s team. Danny, however, was an absolute beast and Tim couldn’t wait to see him face off against the Batfamily in a race.

Eventually, they rotated so that it was all of Young Justice competing and the two ghost siblings flew off to talk. Tim didn’t hear what was said, too focused on forcing Bart to eat his pixelated dust. But when they came back, Dani was uncharacteristically somber. Once the race had finished, they found out why.

“Sorry I invaded your base and forced you to hang out with me without asking,” the younger ghost said. “I was excited and forgot to take your own…boundaries? Boundaries…into account.”

Danny nodded along like an approving parent.

“Hey, no sweat. We love meeting new people,” Bart replied. “And I don’t know about the others, but feel free to bother me anytime now that I know you.”

“Ohhh, you’re going to regret saying that, speedster,” Danny said. Dani’s impish grin promised only future torture for Bart. Tim planned to be a galaxy away whenever the duo met up.

“I forgive you too. But unlike Impulse, please call ahead. Finals week is off limits,” Kon added.

“Fair. And I accept your terms.” Dani looked to Wondergirl.

“I love new friends, but I’m with Kon. Just call ahead next time. Otherwise, consider our rough start forgiven and forgotten.”

Dani beamed.

“Aaand, that’s our cue. I’ve got class tomorrow, and Dani does not need to keep you up all night,” Danny announced. “It was lovely meeting Birdie’s friends.”

“Birdie. That’s adorable.” Dani snickered, earning her a playful slap from her brother/template.

Kon, Cassie and Bart stared at Tim knowingly. He was absolutely not looking to their de-brief on the Phantom siblings sometime tomorrow. Well, later today. They would be so smug.

He let Danny usher him away as Tim’s team said their final goodbyes. The whole team exchanged phone numbers with Dani. Tim’s interest was piqued when the ghost clone mentioned how she would be unreachable unless in their dimension. Danny leaned over to whisper he’d tell Tim a way to get around the transdimensional communication issues later. Tim shivered, Danny’s low voice talking shop doing strange things to his insides.

The rest of the good-byes mostly comprised of Tim’s teammates hugging him. As usual, Kon and Cassie’s hugs were strong enough to bruise. Followed by Bart hugging his middle and begging him not to go. But eventually Phantom managed to drag Tim through a portal back to a deserted rooftop in Old Gotham. Once the portal was zipped closed again, Phantom transformed back into Danny Fenton.

Tim felt abruptly awkward without the buffer of his friends and Danny’s clone. It hit him rather suddenly that hours ago he had not only kissed Danny, but he’d also said some frightfully vulnerable things. And Danny had reciprocated.

“Are you alright?” Danny asked, brown furrowing. “Did the portal feel…weird?”

“No, I’m fine. Just…”

“Oh.” Danny’s expression fell. “You’re embarrassed. Was it Dani? I know she can be a bit much, but – ”

“No!” Tim interjected. “No, she was great.”

“Then…is it me?” Danny asked. And before Tim could say anything, Danny cursed something in a language Tim had never heard before. Impressive, considering Tim knew a lot of languages, and even more curse words.

“I knew it! I came on too strong and now you are freaking out.”

“No!” Tim interjected again. “And let’s not forget, I kissed you!”

Danny stared at him, clearly doubtful. “I can feel your emotions, Tim. You can’t lie.”

“But I’m…” Tim trailed off and took a deep breath, trying to squash down the panic crawling up his chest. “I’m not lying. Not entirely. I’m…anxious.”

“Anxious,” Danny echoed flatly.

“Yeah. Because you’re amazing and this is so fast. Not that that’s bad! But I’m overwhelmed. And a mess. And now I’m flustered because you can read my emotions and I’m usually used to keeping them bottled away and never letting anyone know what I’m really feeling.”

Tim took a deep breath after that tangent and immediately flushed red. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he really just said all of that out loud? Was it too late to grapple away from the situation?

“Wow. That is…a lot,” Danny admitted carefully. “Gonna be honest, you are kind of all over the place feelings-wise right now, so I’m not really sure what’s going to stick around and what’s just the anxiety talking.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “You can’t tell what I’m feeling because I’m feeling too much?”

“Yeah. Like hearing a bunch of people talk over each other at once.”

“Interesting. So – ”

Danny shook his head fondly and interrupted. “Sorry, Birdie, your ghost questions will have to wait until I’m done with the feelings talk, alright?”

No, not alright. Finding answers was how Tim coped with emotions. Can’t stop to stew in his emotions if he can’t stop thinking.

Danny continued, probably ignoring whatever silent protest Tim’s feelings were projecting. “I like you. And I think you like me too. But my emotions aren’t completely human anymore. So if I start coming on too strong too fast, you need to tell me and I’ll back off. Okay?”

Tim nodded.

“With that being said, do you want me to?”

“What? Step back? We’ve only kissed, Danny,” Tim pointed out. “We’d be stepping back to…”

“Friends?” Danny suggested when Tim struggled to think of the appropriate word.

“We weren’t really friends though. You gave me your soul, and then we became acquainted when I started stalking you and we fought Scarecrow goons. Then you went MIA for a week, and then we had one sort-of-date.”

“Well, we could try being friends then. If you want.” Danny smiled, but it seemed forced. And while his stance was relaxed, Tim could detect the tension in it.

Tim stepped forward towards Danny, disregarding the Batman voice in his head screaming at him to keep his distance and be cautious of anyone who refused to answer all his questions. “I already told you this, but I’m a mess. I do know I like you too, Danny. Maybe not quite as intensely as you yet. Got to be honest, knowing I’m part of your Fraid already scares the hell out of me. But I liked hanging out with you and I liked kissing you and my friends like you too, which is a huge point in your favor already.”

He took Danny’s hand in his, and watched the bright blue eyes widen in the yellowish light of a Gotham night. “I…I don’t really want to move backwards. Even though I probably sh – oomph!” Tim was cut off as Danny’s lips pressed against his own.

Danny stepped back as quickly as he had stepped forward. His fingers were at his lips. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I started sensing – well, it doesn’t matter what I was sensing, I shouldn’t have – ”

“Danny!” Tim shouted. “Don’t worry about it. I was probably going to kiss you soon anyway.”

“Really?” Danny was beaming, wide enough Tim could see his slightly inhuman teeth.

“Yeah,” Tim smiled softly, full of fondness for this ridiculous boy. “But I was hoping to make it official first.”

“Official? Oh! Official like boyfriends?”

Tim stifled a laugh at Danny’s boyish exuberance. How could Danny somehow be as cool as his ice powers sometimes, yet awkward as a duckling at other times? “Yeah. Like that.”

“Birdie, I would definitely love to be your boyfriend. Now can I kiss you?”

Tim pulled Danny by his shirt towards him and answered him with their lips pressed together. His family would be worried and overly protective, his friends would be insufferable, and B was going to be all emotionally constipated about it. But for now, all that could wait. Because right now he was just a boy on a rooftop letting himself fall in love with another boy.

Alfred stood outside Master Bruce’s study, trying to gauge the emotions of the man within before he entered. As usual, his son ward, was a maelstrom of emotions. Most of the family believed it to be an effect of Martha and Thomas’ death leaving a scar on Bruce’s heart, that was only aggravated by his donning of the cowl, then the subsequent trauma experienced from the deaths and near-deaths of the various children Bruce had adopted. But Alfred remembered even from a young age that Bruce’s emotions burned brighter than most. Alfred had never seen joy so vibrant or love so potent on any Wayne before him. But it meant that grief was that much heavier and anger was that much more consuming. Alfred had done his best, but Bruce’s emotions were a sea that never seemed to settle.

And Ancients forbid the man ever give therapy a try. Alfred shook his head. It was a miracle he and the children had finally convinced him to meet with Harley Quinn for coffee once a month. Alfred knew Bruce had caught onto the ploy of “helping Harley readjust and reacclimate” was an excuse for Bruce to have some kind of therapist’s perspective, even with her license revoked. But it was good healing for them both, if not quite the ideal solution.

Within the study, Alfred could faintly feel the guilt gnawing through the door that had barely relented since Jason and Tim had been taken. And of course, the anger laced all through it, knotted so closely together it would be impossible to separate the two emotions. Alfred could understand. His own obsession urged him to pull out his old shotgun and hunt down the white-suited savages who had hurt his family. But he knew it would be recklessly dangerous. And besides, he was needed far more here.

Alfred clenched and unclenched the fists at his side. It wasn’t a good time. Then again, it was never a good time. He was so wrapped up in his dithering, Alfred didn’t notice Miss Cassandra’s warm emotions heading down the hall until she was nearly by his side.

Cassandra – ever curious, like the rest of her siblings – tilted her head towards the door questioningly.

“I have something to discuss with Master Bruce,” Alfred explained. “But I do not think it is a good time.”

Cassandra stared at Alfred. Sometimes, he wondered if perhaps the young miss could read emotions as well as any ghost, feeling them in the air with the same ease of eyes capturing light. “Afraid,” Cass signed. “Why?”

Alfred almost spoke aloud, but instead slowly raised his hands, signing in return. “Keeping a secret. Long time. Wish to tell. Afraid I will hurt B.”

Cassandra nodded slowly. She seemed pensive. “Words are hard. Especially for secrets,” she signed.

Alfred sighed. “Indeed they are,” he said, returning to vocalizing his words.

“Practice? On me?” Cassandra asked, signing hopefully. Curiosity radiated from her every pore.

Alfred chuckled. “I appreciate your offer, Miss Cassandra, but I think it prudent I reveal this secret to Master Bruce before yourself. Rest assured, I will tell you and the rest of your siblings soon.”

Cassandra huffed, but as much as there was frustration in her emotions, there was also understanding. He also detected the brightness of mischief ducking in and out of the other emotions and knew it was likely she’d try to eavesdrop.

Alfred looked a final time at the closed door. He could hear the faint clatter of typing while Bruce researched. His decision made up, Alfred turned to Cassandra. “I do not think Master Bruce is in the mood. Perhaps he will be more amenable with cookies. Do you wish to help?”

Cassandra grinned and nodded. Her fingers were quick and playful as she signed. “Yes. But I get more than B.”

Alfred smiled, core humming with soft fondness as he and Cass made their way down the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Billy Batson – currently powered up as Captain Marvel – let his legs swing back and forth as he sat on the ledge of the Amity Park welcome billboard, proclaiming itself to be the “Most haunted town in America” Or it would, if there weren’t a gaping hole from some kind of blaster damage that caused it to read “Mos unted town erica” instead.

Billy didn’t really want to be here. Danny had cautioned him about the dangers of the Infinite Realms and the way they leaked into his hometown on a regular basis. Plus, the gods in Billy’s head were not at all stoked about dealing with the Infinite Realms. It seemed if ever there would be forces that could take down the Champion of Magic they would come from there, and the gods encouraged caution.

Billy remembered the first time he had met Phantom. The rest of the Justice League Dark Division had been preparing for a ritual to counter the plans of an archdemon, when a request was forwarded from the JL alert system. Fawcett City – Billy’s hometown and Captain Marvel’s turf – was under attack from an unknown threat causing destructive weather.

Consequently, Billy was pissed when he flew back to Fawcett City and found a hulking, bright green creature with spiky features and glowing red eyes spinning a tornado through downtown.

“Hey! What’s the deal, man? Why are you tearing up downtown?” Captain Marvel shouted over the gusting winds.

The green creature didn’t even pay Marvel any notice. Well, Captain Marvel was used to people ignoring him as Billy, but not Captain Marvel. Thankfully, Captain Marvel had a few more tricks up his sleeve than a homeless teenager. With the strength of Hercules and using the swiftness of Mercury to aid his flight, Captain Marvel pushed through the destructive winds up to the creature’s face.

“Alright, man, what’s going on? Why are you trying to – “

The green creature snarled with a mouth full of needle-like teeth. He raised a hand and slammed against Captain Marvel. Usually the Captain would retaliate with his own strength pushing back, an immovable force against his opponent. But either the creature truly was that much stronger than the champion of magic, or maybe Captain Marvel’s powers were just useless against the creature, because the hand connected and overcame the mightiest mortal’s strength like a finger flick overcoming an ant. Captain Marvel slammed into a nearby building, and momentarily blacked out from the force. His connection to the gods snapped with his momentary lapse of unconsciousness, and a bolt of divine lightning slammed into him shortly after Captain Marvel crumpled over the broken debris, leaving a teenage Billy Batson behind.

“Oof! Dude, that looked like it hurt.”

Billy opened his eyes and saw that another creature was currently hovering over him. Although also glowing green, this creature looked more human. Sort of. They certainly had the basic human shape, but the hands were clawed, and there were ice-blue horns spiraling out of snow-white hair. They had elfin ears and their mouth seemed human at first glance, but Billy could see fangs peeking out from under the upper lip. They wore some sort of armor, but not even the gods in Marvel’s head seemed to agree on what time or culture the various pieces were. They did all agree that the icy-looking Spatha in the creature’s left hand belonged to Amazonian culture nearly four thousand years ago.

Fearing an ally for the green monstrosity currently tearing up his city, Billy immediately whispered, “Shazam!” to bring back Captain Marvel.

The creature hovering over Billy flew to a distant corner, panic in his wide green eyes. “Holy shit,” Captain Marvel heard him mutter as he shook off the lingering static electricity humming over the champion of magic’s skin.

Captain Marvel felt the lightning of Zeus crackled over his skin like a protective shield. Something about the white-haired creature made the gods in him cower. “Who – ” He croaked before hacking dust from his lungs.

The creature flinched again at the electricity running over Captain Marvel. “Easy there. I’m on your side! Name’s Phantom.”

“Like a ghost?”

The creature – Phantom – grinned wider. And holy cow, he had a lot of teeth. “Exactly. Mind turning off the light show?”

Captain Marvel shrugged and let the lightning dissipate, much to Zeus’ displeasure. At least this Phantom was willing to talk, unlike big, green and spiky outside.

Speaking of, the other creature, much larger than Phantom, bellowed and sickly green clouds began to spool overhead. A wind whipped through Fawcett, bringing below freezing temperatures. Not good for the middle of summer.

Phantom rolled his eyes. “Idiot. He should know he’d be better off making a heat wave.”

“Who is this guy? What does he want?”

“Vortex, Ancient of Storms. As for what he wants, I’m not entirely sure. Pretty sure Vlad tried something, Vortex got pissed, and now he gets to do what he does best: causing destructive weather.”

Billy was mostly confused, but the gods within him felt cowed when Phantom mentioned Vortex being some kind of Ancient. “What’s an Ancient?”

Phantom turned his green eyes to Captain Marvel and let a glowing green orb swirl over his free hand. “If you have to ask that, you’re probably not going to be much help in this fight. Just sit back and relax. I’ll have him souped in a jiffy!”

Billy watched as Phantom went straight up to Vortex, ice spatha over one shoulder as he tossed the glowing green orb up and down. “Vortex! What ill wind dragged you here?”

Vortex – who Billy had assumed was more intent on destroying than conversing – paused his tornado, spinning it like a basketball on one of his green claws. “Phantom,” he sneered. “I drag the ill winds, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, yeah, storms are your domain. Whatever. Now, WHY ARE YOU HERE?” Phantom’s voice was deceptively powerful for the impish teenager who had presented himself to Captain Marvel.

Billy thought he must have imagined it, because there was no way the thirty foot tall glowing green monster just flinched at Phantom. But the momentarily jolt of fear was quickly corrected into a menacing hover as Vortex grew another eight feet. “Watch it, ghost boy. You haven’t accepted the crown yet.”

Phantom straightened, pointing his icy spatha at Vortex. “This isn’t the first time I’ve weathered your schemes. Last chance to surrender or it’s soup time for you.”

Vortex pulsed with green. And then the wind kicked up another few notches, enough to rip up trees and move cars. “This is your end, ghost boy. The elements are mine to control! I’ll defeat you and my Rain of Weather can finally begin!”

Phantom rolled his eyes.  “I can always count on you to blow a bunch of hot air.”

Phantom and Vortex attacked nearly simultaneously. Captain Marvel felt like he should do something, but the two creatures – who were quite possibly actual ghosts – fought unlike anything Billy had ever seen. They used intangibility and contorted their forms as necessary as naturally as breathing. Billy certainly wouldn’t have been able to be mentally capable of forming a hole in his midsection to let one of Vortex’s bolts of lightning pass naturally through even if he was physically capable. Phantom acted like he hadn’t even thought about it. The whole fight, the pair sniped and quipped at one another, a whole arsenal of weather puns at their disposal. Frankly, Billy was impressed. Phantom seemed like he could give Nightwing a run for his money.

Captain Marvel knew he couldn’t get in the middle of the fight without making things worse. Instead, he turned his attention to Fawcett City itself. Most had fled downtown when Vortex’s rampage began, but some people were trapped, and others were just stupidly gawking and filming the fight. Captain Marvel freed those who were trapped under rubble, and ushered others to safety while the two powerful creatures fought above them.  

Eventually though, Phantom and Vortex were engaged in a standoff of sheer power as Vortex radiated blistering heat, while Phantom was his own maelstrom of cold and ice.

“Your ice cannot defeat me!” Vortex exclaimed. “I am the Master of the Blizzard, the King of the Cold!”

Phantom slipped briefly, a ray of heat scorching his arm. He gritted his teeth and pressed more forcefully against Vortex. “My ice might be of snow use, but I’m not just an ice ghost am I?”

Now it was Vortex who faltered. Phantom took the opportunity to adjust his ice and cold just enough so that when it made contact with Vortex’s heat, it vaporized instantly, creating a cloud of steam. Phantom’s voice came from the fog. “Time for you to cool off!”

Random lighting sparked within the steam. A howl of wind dissipated the fog, but Vortex was too late. Because Phantom was behind Vortex, face screwed up in concentration as he held what looked like a tiny void between fingers. Slowly, it stretched and grew, and even from here, Captain Marvel could feel the heaviness of gravity as a miniscule black hole warped the space around it. Vortex tried to flee, but his wind and weather were sucked inside. Just before Vortex fell into the fist sized black hole too, Phantom collapsed it with a snap, and then pulled out a silver and green soup thermos. When he opened it, Vortex howled with frustration, and then he was sucked into the glowing thermos that Billy was reasonably certain didn’t contain any actual soup.

Phantom screwed the cap back on his thermos and hovered himself to the ground, white boots manifesting to allow him to stand. He looked around at Vortex’s carnage and seemed to shrink within himself.

Captain Marvel pushed up a steel beam to allow a family of tourists escape, and then walked over to greet Phantom.

“Okay, what was that?!” Captain Marvel asked, awestruck by the teenager. He’d seen a lot of powerful teen heroes, himself included. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen one of them wield their powers with such ease before. All the while causing so little collateral damage. Billy had a hunch if Phantom truly let his true power out, there wouldn’t be a Fawcett City left after that fight.

Phantom turned to Captain Marvel and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. Tried to keep the hurricane to a minimum. But weather ghosts aren’t exactly…subtle. I do appreciate you staying out of it to let me do my thing. I was worried a Leaguer would be all up in my business thinking they knew better.”

“Nah, man. I know how it can be if other heroes think they know better than a teen hero, even if a kid has more experience. I had no clue what you were facing back there, whereas you clearly did.”

Phantom tilted his head, smirking at Captain Marvel. “Sounds like you speak from experience. Does that explain the magical girl transformation sequence?”

Captain Marvel scoffed. “I wouldn’t call getting struck by divine lighting as a magical girl transformation sequence.”

Phantom laughed and it sounded impish and not quite human, more like the crunch of snow under a boot. “No need to get offended, man. I have my own thing too.”

Billy perked. “Really?”

“Yeah. Here, let’s find an alley and I’ll show you so we can get burgers or something.”

“Ghosts can eat?” Captain Marvel asked as he followed Phantom into an alleyway a couple blocks over.

“I’m special.” Phantom stretched. “Alright, might want to avert your eyes, it can get kind of bright.”

Phantom murmured words Captain Marvel couldn’t make out, and then two rings of light emerged from Phantom’s midsection, separating so they went up and down. When the rings passed, a more alive-looking teenager dropped from the air to his feet. “Ta-da!” Phantom said with a grin. But it wasn’t really Phantom anymore.

The teenager was older than Billy. He guessed that he was a junior or senior in high school. About the same age as one of the foster kids Billy lived with. Like Billy, he had raven black hair. His eyes were also blue, but more intense as if they were electrified ice, and held splashes of green in them. He looked…ordinary. Complete with eyebags from lack of sleep, a NASA t-shirt, scuffed tennis shoes, and ripped jeans.

Billy thought for a moment about the display of trust Phantom was showing. He was looking at the teenage hero’s civilian form. He might not know a name, but Batman had figured out civilian IDs with less. He thought about Phantom’s strong and varied powerset and how Vortex mentioned a crown. Billy thought Phantom might not just keep his secret if he showed him, but maybe he could relate as well.

“Might want to step back,” Captain Marvel said. “You didn’t really like the lightning last time.”

The teen moved to lean against the far wall of the alley. Billy took a deep breath. He could not believe he was doing this. Co-workers he trusted his life with for years didn’t know who he was, and he was about to reveal himself to this unknown entity who seemed friendly? Batman would have a fit if he knew. But Captain Marvel wasn’t Batman. And Phantom had trusted Billy with his civilian form, so it seemed only polite to do the same. He’d already seen Billy Batson anyway. And besides, Billy had a good feeling about Phantom, even if the gods in his head were practically screaming “danger!”

“Brace yourself.” And this time Captain Marvel was the one smirking as he shouted, “Shazam!”

A bolt of lightning later, Captain Marvel was gone, and Billy in his secondhand cargo shorts and shirt, and thoroughly scuffed converse was in his place.

Phantom smiled. “Wow, you’re even younger than I first thought. What are you, eleven?”

Billy scowled. “Jackass.” He was not eleven, thank you very much.

Phantom just laughed. He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against, and stuck out his hand. “Call me, Danny.”

Billy took the hand for the apology it was and replied, “Billy.”

“Nice to meet you, Billy. Got any good burger joints around here? My treat.”

Billy grinned. He never passed up free food.

Danny and Billy had learned a lot about each other in the slightly sticky booth of a diner in Fawcett. Billy learned Danny didn’t really trust the Justice League and he swore both Billy and Captain Marvel to secrecy. Billy learned Danny also wasn’t great at coming up with believable lies; Billy had to figure out his own cover story for the latest attack on Fawcett City. (He’d crossed his fingers it wouldn’t be Batman he’d have to brief on the post-mission report. That man could spot inconsistencies like nobody else.) Billy learned Danny was nervous about the days counting down until he took on the mantle as King of Ghosts, and Billy had confided him about it never felt like he knew what he was supposed to do as Champion of Magic. The duties seemed so ambiguous. It was nice to find a friend. And while they didn’t meet up often – maybe once every few months – Billy had always thought if Danny needed help, Phantom would ask for it.

But that was before he saw Batman’s slideshow. Before he sat in the meeting with the Justice League for hours discussing how to take down a laws and an organization that threatened not only their world, but the fabric that held the multiverse together. Now he wondered if maybe he should have pushed Danny more to accept help. At the very least, he should have pressed Danny more on why he jumped at the sight of white vans when he hadn’t seemed to bat an eye at a thirty-feet tall godlike being with weather powers. Or maybe Danny was right all along, and the Justice League had no business getting involved in this other than overturing some laws and letting the ghosts handle the rest.

Captain Marvel huffed and lay down on the ledge. Why did it seem the older and more experienced he became as a hero, the more uncertain his decisions seemed? Especially right now as he waited for Danny to meet him. Or stop his fellow Justice League members from blundering into a mistake. He wasn’t sure which would happen first. But he did know Batman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Zatanna would be arriving undercover for a scouting mission. And while Billy recognized he hadn’t protested as much as he should have when the Amity Park mission was pitched, he was definitely going to rectify that mistake now.

“Hey there, Mr. Champion of Magic. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” Phantom materialized all of a sudden, hovering over Billy with a grin, causing the world’s mightiest mortal to nearly fall off the billboard, and let out an “eep” of surprise. Why Phantom insisted on greeting Captain Marvel with jump scares never failed to perplex Earth’s Mightiest Mortal.

“Phantom! Don’t scare me like that! It’s like you want to be zapped!” Billy exclaimed, sitting up.

Phantom – in a younger and more human-looking form than Billy was accustomed to – held his hands up in mock surrender. “Easy there, Champ. I didn’t mean to spook ya.”

Billy grinned. “You’re the worst.”

“Yep! So what’s up with the impromptu meeting? Is this because I canceled on you last week?”

Captain Marvel shook his head. “I know you get busy. This is a Justice League matter.”

Phantom’s grin vanished, his eyes dimming into something colder. “I thought we had a deal – ”

Billy interrupted, “And I’ve honored it! Not a peep to any of them. But Batman held an emergency meeting the other day to call to abolish Anti-Ecto laws and the Ghost Investigation Ward. Why didn’t you tell me how much danger you were in?”

Phantom’s tense posture lessened. A little bit. At least he wasn’t bracing to attack anymore. “I have it handled.”

“Bullshit!” Billy’s Fawcett City street kid broke through Captain Marvel’s usually sunny disposition. “I saw those pictures. They captured and dissected you at one point. They’re still doing it to other ghosts. You know I would have done everything I could – ”

“No, I didn’t!” Phantom exclaimed. His image flickered and the air chilled around them, heavy with an energy that Billy as a living being couldn’t quite fathom, but dreaded all the same.

Billy looked away. He felt anger and betrayal rise inside him. He’d trusted Danny with his greatest secrets and Phantom couldn’t even trust Billy when his afterlife was on the line.

“Captain  – Billy – I know your heart is the right place. But you don’t speak for the Justice League or the American government. I didn’t want to put you in a position where you would have to choose between me and them.”

Billy looked up and glared Phantom’s eyes with the full force of all the godly power within him. Phantom flinched briefly from the intensity. “You think I care what the government thinks when I lived outside the law for years? And as for the Justice League, they may be my friends and team, but if they supported genocide of any kind, I wouldn’t hesitate to stand against them.”

“I didn’t want – ”

“Me to have to choose,” Billy finished. “Yeah. I got that. But still should have been my choice. As it was, because you kept this information from me on purpose, you forced me and my team to support genocide anyway with our ignorance. And for that, I am very angry with you.”

Phantom – usually ready with a quip and a grin – was uncharacteristically somber. “I…I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry.”

Billy took a deep breath, summoning every angry thought and hurt feeling and squashed it away to let out later. His foster brother’s punching bag was going to take a lot of abuse tonight. “I don’t forgive you. Not yet. But I understand why you kept your secrets. And it would be hypocritical of me not to forgive you eventually with all the secrets I keep from my team. But usually my secret only affects me and them. This secret affects all your people. More than that, it affects all the Realms – living and dead.”

Phantom looked properly abashed.

And Billy never did well when confronted with hurt puppy dog eyes. It’s probably the reason his younger foster sister always managed to walk all over him. “But I figure – as one scarily powerful being to another – that you’re going to make mistakes at times. Solomon knows how I try his patience at times.”

Phantom gave Captain Marvel a small smile. “Well, I think you’re plenty wise to me. For what it’s worth, it wasn’t an intentional slight against you. I do trust you, I’m just so used to dealing with the GIW on my own or with my team.”

“Then you’ll let me help you?” Captain Marvel asked, crossing his arms.

Phantom tapped a finger against his chin, his usual smirk returning. “I don’t know…you are still under age – ”

“Danny!”

“Kidding!” Phantom laughed. But he sobered briefly. “But are you sure? The GIW are not pleasant. They don’t play by normal rules. Mercy is not in their vocabulary.”

Captain Marvel straightened. “All the more reason for me to help bring them down. Besides, the Justice League knows about them now. I’m getting roped into this one way or another.”

Phantom sighed. “Knew I should have left the Bats alone,” he muttered. “Fiiiiine. You can help.”

Captain Marvel punched the air. “Yes! I thought that was going to be so much harder.”

Phantom opened his arms. “Bring it in, Champ. We’re hugging this out.”

“So, what now? Should we come up with some sort of backstory on how we know each other so we can keep our identities intact?”

“Actually, we’ve got more important things to discuss first. I came here to warn you. Some of my teammates are headed to Amity Park to do some undercover investigating. I wanted to give you a heads up.”

Phantom’s green eyes flashed, and he actually snarled, exposing his fangs briefly. “They…they’re…” Phantom struggled with himself, particularly as his form began distorting again with even more inhuman features than Billy had seen in previous meetups.

“You told me ghosts are territorial, which is why I wanted to let you know. The Justice League doesn’t mean any harm!” Billy said quickly. “They’re on your side. They are mostly searching for more information on ghosts and gathering evidence against ghost hunters.”

That did not seem to ease Phantom as hands shifting into long black claws combed through his hair. “Oh this is not good…this is very not good…”

“Why?”

Phantom floated up so he was eyelevel with Captain Marvel. “We have to get them to call it off! They’re going to make a mess of things. Amity Park hates the Justice League.”

“They’ll be undercover,” Billy pointed out. “I think they’re just hoping to pass themselves off as especially curious tourists.”

Phantom shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. The GIW has a media lockdown over the town. Amity Park doesn’t get tourists.”

Captain Marvel gestured to the billboard behind them. “Then why – ”

Phantom cut him off quickly. “Marvel, how long have you been sitting here?”

“Er…”

“Hours? Tell me, have there been any vehicles in that time?”

Billy thought about it and realized that he only had to hide once because of an oncoming vehicle. And it had been leaving the town. Not unheard of for small towns in the Midwest, but not normal either. At least a truck or something to bring shipments or mail into town.

Phantom continued, “Any traffic in and out is usually locals picking up supplies in Elmerton or GIW going to and from their base. Outsiders don’t come to Amity Park. I’ll be surprised if your buddies can make it here at all with the warding the GIW has put up around the place. It’s probably why you haven’t passed this billboard. That’s where the wards start, and while you’re probably more immune than most with all that magic power shielding you, you’re still living. Which means you can probably still sense there’s something wrong with the town beyond.”

Billy shook his head. This was crazy. A whole town magically hidden? Shouldn’t the Dark division have picked up on this? Or had it been another one of those things they’d written off?

“Zatanna is on the team. Can she sense the wards?”

Phantom shrugged. “You’d know better than I would. But if she does, she’ll probably feel ill just looking at them. Most GIW creations are…unpleasant.”

Billy steeled himself. He hadn’t looked towards Amity Park with his magic sense yet. He didn’t think there would be any kind of magic this far out. He focused on sensing magical energy, as he’d learned from his lessons with Constantine. When Billy opened his eyes, he nearly vomited. He was abruptly nauseous from the hodge-podge mess of magical wards slapped together. There was no finesse or artistry in whatever the GIW was putting around Amity Park. Frankly, Billy was surprised the entire town hadn’t exploded from the magic stitched together. Runes were spotted throughout ritual auras, fighting each other like foreign bacteria in stomach acid. Blood magic weaved through elemental magic in a twisting mess that usually led to cursed flora and fauna. Billy wouldn’t be surprised if Amity Park would grow a “haunted” forest that would last for centuries to come. And if that weren’t enough, as a blanket over the pandemonium, necrotic magic – the energy of the dead – covered the entire area in a lime green shroud.

Billy blinked away his magic sense before he grew any more overwhelmed. Not quick enough though, because moments later, his breakfast came up the wrong way and into some nearby bushes.

“Let me guess, you looked at the wards? Nasty, right? My friend Sam started self-teaching herself magic while in high school, but once she started to get a feel for the GIW’s ‘protections’ she had to stop because she was sick all the time.”

“How…how does anyone even live there?” Billy asked, trembling as he stood up. It was always weird to lose composure as Captain Marvel. This body made of pure magic wasn’t supposed to worry about most bodily functions. But sometimes instinct overcame nature, and Captain Marvel could be all too human.

Billy looked down the road towards town – deceptively peaceful despite the magic wards beyond. Going through them would be awful for Captain Marvel’s magic sense. “You have to let the Justice League investigate this,” Billy said.

Phantom opened his mouth to protest, but Billy continued on, “I know you and the rest of the town don’t want them here, but they need to see what’s wrong. This could be huge for their case. Keeping a town under this kind of oppressive magic – that can’t be ignored. The people in there deserve to be heard.”

Phantom sighed. “I hate that you’re right. But! I can’t guarantee the people of Amity Park will cooperate. And they have to approach me first. I can forgive a lot being only half-ghost, but strangers trespassing in my haunt always brings out the worst of my ghostly instincts.”

Billy smiled. Which was usually reassuring to people when he was in Captain Marvel form. Phantom was also lured into a false sense of security as he smiled back. “Then I guess you’ll have to show them around yourself,” Billy replied sweetly.

Phantom’s smile immediately fell. “Oh definitely not.”

Bruce Wayne tapped his armrest idly from where he sat in the passenger seat of a borrowed Wayne Enterprises’ SUV. Alfred’s parting words about needing to discuss something important with him when he returned bothered Bruce. Usually he’d brush off Alfred’s threat of a lecture, but for the life of him Bruce couldn’t think of anything he’d fucked up that badly recently. And Alfred’s tone hadn’t been threatening enough for a promised lecture. If anything, Alfred appeared vulnerable. Bruce could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Alfred behaving with vulnerability. The man was an indomitable presence in Bruce’s life from the beginning.

Hal Jordan – driving the SUV – started some chatter about a new development in the Green Lanterns, temporarily diverting Bruce’s ruminating. Meanwhile, Diana and Zatanna were in the back. The two women had kept up a steady conversation with Hal since the four of them met up in Chicago, where the closest zeta tube was located. Until approximately two miles ago when Zatanna asked for silence to focus on the magical presence she had begun to detect. The closer they all got to Amity Park, the more pained she appeared with sweat on her furrowed brow.

“Is everything alright?” Diana asked the magician, also taking note of their teammate’s distress.

Zatanna shook her head. “Whatever is in Amity Park really doesn’t want us to be there. I can feel the repelling wards from here. And the amount of necrotic energy in the air is staggering.”

“You make this place sound cursed,” Hal joked from the driver’s seat. But no one laughed.

“That is actually an apt description. I don’t know how anything living manages to approach this town, let alone inhabit it.”

Bruce didn’t think the people of Amity Park were considered fully living anymore, if the sporadic information acquired on Danny Fenton and Tuckey Foley was anything to go by.

“It appears we are almost to the city limits,” Diana announced, leaning forward to look through the windshield and spotting a cheesy billboard ahead.

“Most haunted town in America? They’re not even trying to hide it,” Hal remarked.

Zatanna hissed in pain. “Stop the car!” She shouted.

“What? Why?”

“Now!” the magician insisted, her eyes flickering with green light.

Hal Jordan slammed on the brakes. In the backseat, Zatanna Zatara rocked back and forth while Diana tried to reassure her with a hand on her back.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked.

“The magic. It’s awful! How can you all not feel it?!”

“I admit, I do feel some disquiet the closer we get to our destination, but it is not debilitating,” Diana said.

“Yeah, I’m getting some massive heebie-jeebies, but that’s not different than a mission with old Spooky here.”

Bruce fought the urge to glare at Hal Jordan. But he was also similarly uncomfortable the closer they got to Amity Park. He felt tense with dread.  The same feeling he’d get prior to major rouge attack or Arkham breakout. His instincts wanted him to turn back and come up with a couple hundred more contingencies before proceeding forward.

“Tucker Foley’s information on Amity Park revealed the Ghost Investigation Ward merging technology and magic to conceal their operations. Perhaps this is an effect of those magical defenses?” Bruce suggested.

“It’s definitely possible. But it feels like a very blunt way of doing it. Like using an axe instead of a scalpel,” Zatanna said.

“Heads up, gang, looks like we’ve got company,” Hal said, nodding out the windshield where two figures were flying towards them. One was large and caped, reminiscent of Superman, the second looking child-like in comparison with a small and lean frame. As they grew closer, it was not difficult for Batman to identify Captain Marvel and Phantom.

Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but whether this would be a conversation or a fight, he didn’t want to have to deal with it while confined to an SUV.

“That’s King Phantom,” Zatanna murmured. “Oh gods help us. This is his haunt. I can feel it now: his signature in the death magic.”

“He is…quite small,” Diana remarked, voice soft with pity.

“Well, he is a dead teenager,” Hal said. “What were you all expecting?”

“Haunt. Explain,” Bruce prompted. Tim’s explanations of various ghostly terminology had gotten progressively vaguer. Bruce suspected him of further interactions with either Phantom or his Amity Park associates, Danny Fenton and Tucker Foley. And Jason had been even more withdrawn from the family than usual. Not for the first time, Bruce regretted teaching his children to be so cautious about giving away information, because they always seemed to use that as reasoning to keep information from him.

“It means if we go into town without his permission, he’s probably going to attack us. And we will not win. We need complete honesty moving forward. Especially about our intentions. Ghosts can sense emotions, so he’ll know if we’re lying,” Zatanna cautioned.

“Well, that’s just perfect. We have to rely on the fickle nature of a dead teenager with godlike levels of power,” Hal complained

“I do wonder what Captain Marvel is doing with him,” Diana remarked, echoing similar concerns to Bruce’s own thoughts. The mysterious hero had given no indication he knew Phantom with any degree of familiarity.

All four of the undercover heroes spilled out of the van to greet Captain Marvel and Phantom.

“Captain, I am surprised to see you here. And who is this with you?” Diana greeted.

Captain Marvel waved boyishly at them. “Hi guys. I’ll let you introduce yourselves. But this is Phantom.”

No one seemed particularly surprised by that revelation. They’d all been present for Bruce’s presentation. Zatanna did go above and beyond, by bowing at her waist and ducking her gaze. “Your majesty, it is an honor.”

Phantom looked stricken by the greeting. “Really no need for that. Especially with you being a living being and all. Just call me Phantom.”

“Then call me Zatanna.”

Phantom’s head cocked in recognition, but it was unclear to Batman if that recognition was good or bad. Especially since the eyelet at the Justice League meeting had been familiar with her for her association with John Constantine.

Hal stepped forward, holding out a hand. “Call me Hal. I’m here on behalf of Oa to determine the extent of interdimensional crimes that have been committed against the citizens of this town and of your people.”

Bruce fought the urge to hold his head in his hands. Did any of his co-workers care about secret identities anymore?

“And I am Diana of Themyscira. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Diana also stuck out her hand which Phantom shook with awe.

“Wow. Uh…lot to unpack there. So, we got a magician, a Green Lantern, probably the Wonder Woman, and…” Phantom’s eyes widened as he stared at Bruce. “Holy shit.”

Bruce arched a single eyebrow.

Phantom immediately stammered and tried to backtrack. “I mean, I already knew who you were because of Tim. But seeing it confirmed in person is…wow.”

“What about Tim?” Bruce bristled.

Phantom smirked. “I mean, I’ve been in your house and your basement tracking him down. The dots were kind of easy to connect.”

“When were you in my house?”

“Okay, we’re just going to go for denial then, that’s cool too.”

Bruce was not in denial. He knew that Phantom had likely seen the manor before or after manifesting in the Batcave, though he had hoped otherwise. But this was legitimate question. He had to know if Phantom’s knowledge of his family’s secret identities had preceded or followed their conversation. It would surely color the interaction in a new light. “Answer the question.”

“Ummm…that time I visited Tim?”

“Before or after the visit.”

“Uhhhh….both?”

“Bruce, please stop interrogating the King of the Infinite Realms,” Zatanna chastised weakly as she leaned against Diana for support.

“No, no, it’s fine. Tim warned me Batman would be broody and paranoid about me knowing who he is.”

Hal snorted. “Seriously? The Robins are warning interdimensional beings against you now, Spooky?”

Bruce wondered when he started losing the fear and awe of his co-workers. There was a time Hal wouldn’t even call Bruce that insipid nickname to his face.

Diana managed to steer the conversation back on track. “Captain Marvel, why are you here? I believe it was agreed that this would be a covert mission?”

Captain Marvel did look somewhat sheepish, but not cowed. “I intended no disrespect to the League’s decision, but entering Amity Park uninvited is recipe for disaster.”

“How so?” Hal Jordan asked.

Captain Marvel’s eyes flickered over to Phantom. The ghostly teenager sighed and crossed his legs to sit midair. “Captain Marvel was right to come here to warn both you and me for several reasons. One – and the reason he warned me – is this is my first haunt. And in a sense, it still is. Ghosts are territorial beings, and if you were to invade, I can’t promise my logic would be able to override my feelings of being attacked. And I doubt that’s a fight you want right now, as I’ve been told you just want to help.”

“We do,” Zatanna assured Phantom. “I sensed it was your Haunt as we got closer. I wouldn’t have let us continue in.”

Phantom nodded in gratitude. “Thank you. Two, Amity Park is a horrid magical cesspit, courtesy of the GIW, as I’m sure Miss Zatanna is already aware. You wouldn’t be able to even reach the town proper without my aid. Well, Mister Jordan might, but the rest of you are too magic or death touched. Three, because Amity Park is a horrid magical cesspit no one besides the locals and agents ever visit this place. You would be under suspicion just driving into town. Four, because you stick out like a sore thumb, the GIW would be on you in an instant. And they may be incompetent, but they’re a new enemy to most of y’all, and that makes them dangerous. If they caught you, you wouldn’t be found easily. And Five, Amity Parkers don’t like you.”

“Don’t like us?” Diana asked, baffled. “They’ve never met us.”

“Precisely.” Phantom’s gaze was solemn and intense. “The first year the portal opened, Amity Park requested aid of the Justice League before the GIW ever touched this place. It was ignored. And the GIW made sure no mention of ghosts or Infinite Realms ever left the town again. After the town was briefly sucked into the Realms by Pariah Dark, the town gave up entirely. They hate the Justice League.”

All of Bruce’s co-workers looked especially pained at that. Captain Marvel looked especially pale as if not knowing about Amity Park was a personal failing. Though hadn’t he only just started out as a hero at the time?

“An oversight we are seeking to remedy now,” Hal protested. “We just want to help.”

Phantom shrugged. “I’m just warning you in advance, Amity Park may not want your help.”

“Can you still take us in? Evidence of the GIW’s crimes and denying the rights of an entire town will help bolster our case against them,” Bruce pointed out.

Phantom stared at each Justice League member in turn, Captain Marvel excluded. Finally he said, “You really do want to help.” It wasn’t a question, and Bruce remembered Tim’s notes about Phantom’s empathy powers in his report. And hadn’t Zatanna told them they wouldn’t be able to lie? Bruce tried not to fidget, squeamish of the idea of his feelings laid bare for the ghost king to read. Not that he could protest. He knew it would take time for Phantom and the other ghosts to earn the trust of the Justice League.

“Whether you let us in Amity Park or not, we recognize a grave injustice has been committed against your people,” Diana spoke. “And we will do all we can to punish those responsible and ensure such an oversight does not happen again.”

Phantom inclined his head. “On behalf of my people, thank you. I can see now why your grandfather speaks so highly of you.”

“My grandfather?” Diana asked, perplexed for a moment. And then suddenly pale.

“I am assuming he is referring to your paternal grandfather?” Bruce asked, recalling his knowledge of the Greek pantheon. Diana’s father was Zeus, which meant Phantom likely meant Chronos, former ruler of the titans and the god of time.

“Well, grandfather in a sense. Chronos is one his aspects,” Phantom explained. “So Clockwork is her grandfather, but also not. It’s complicated; Ancients are weird.”

“Ancient?” Hal asked.

“Ooooh boy, you guys really don’t know much yet, do you?” Phantom shook his head.

“Ancients are liked the gods of the Infinite Realms. They embody concepts and forces. Many gods that we know are aspects of these Ancients. Or vice-versa,” Captain Marvel explained. And how did he know so much anyway? He had seemed almost as surprised as everyone else at the JL meeting. Or had that been an intentional misdirect? There was so much Bruce still didn’t know about the Champion of Magic. For all he knew Phantom and Captain Marvel were old friends. But if so, Bruce could hardly see the Captain standing by while one of his friends suffered as the target of a genocide. Did Captain Marvel not know until Bruce brought it to his attention?

Meanwhile Captain Marvel’s smile grew too wide in away that usually indicated he had childish mischief in mind. “Actually, you all are looking at an Ancient right now.”

Phantom spun on Captain Marvel quick as a spinner. “I told you that in confidence!”

“They need to know these things if they’re going to help you,” Captain Marvel pointed out, which was accurate.

“So? Now they’re going to treat me weird,” Phantom whined. Just like a teenager. And what had Marvel implied, that he was some kind of god above gods? Bruce was already having issues with Phantom as a king. Not because he thought him incapable, but because no one who acted so young should have to bear that kind of burden.

“You are an Ancient?” Zatanna asked, awe in her voice. “I mean, it makes sense. You have to be rather powerful to be King of the Infinite Realms.”

“Technically I’m an Ancient-in-training. A baby Ancient, if you will. My mentor said it will probably be at least a couple centuries before I fully come into my powers. Right now I just do small stuff.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Phantom. It hadn’t escaped his notice how Tim obsessed over ghostly research, and his defensiveness of Phantom during the Justice League meeting. And his third Robin had been suspiciously upbeat despite being grounded yesterday evening. The detective in him knew the most likely scenario was that Tim was either growing closer to the Amity Parkers he was investigating or Phantom. And Bruce wasn’t exactly thrilled either way because it meant Tim would be delving even deeper into the mostly unknown Infinite Realms. Bruce had no idea how to prepare for if his son found himself in too deep. And that terrified him. The idea Phantom was on the same level as gods was another potential danger without a contingency plan.

“You have such a mighty burden for one so young,” Diana said sadly.

Phantom shrugged. “I know. I’ve kind of made my peace with it. Someone has to do it.”

“Yeah, but why you? Why are you even a king if you’re a juvenile of your kind?” Hal asked. “In all these Infinite Realms, isn’t there anyone more qualified?”

Phantom smiled, but it was cold and somewhat brittle. “My age – which you all don’t even know, choosing instead to judge based on your perceptions – doesn’t have anything to do with it. I was merely fulfilling my obsession and consequently proved myself strong enough to rule. I cannot give away this power, because no one has stepped forward strong and worthy enough to take it. Now, if you all are here to question my legitimacy just because you view me as a child, I must ask that you depart immediately.”

Zatanna jumped in. “We meant no disrespect, your majesty.”

“So? We ghosts have a saying, ‘the feelings were not intended, but they were perceived.’ You may not have wanted to insult me, but I still felt it.” It did not escape Bruce’s notice how Captain Marvel moved towards Phantom as if to defend him. It was clear who the Champion of Magic was siding with in this argument.

And Bruce, well, he knew the Justice League had no authority to stop Phantom, they could only help.

“I apologize on behalf of my colleagues, King Phantom,” Bruce said, using the title to emphasize the ghost’s legitimacy. “We do not know the ways of your people and it was inconsiderate of us to apply our own morals and beliefs to you.”

Phantom warmed slightly. “Thanks. Suppose it would be a bit hypocritical of you to say otherwise, with all your Robins.”

Hal choked next to Bruce, clearly suppressing laughter. Bruce suppressed a sigh. His children were menaces, but at least they could be professional when the situation called for it. His co-workers…not so much.

“So, what do you say, Phantom? Justice League tour of Amity Park?” Captain Marvel prompted, bringing out the full puppy-dog eyes.

Phantom rolled his eyes. “You are for more effective at that in your other form when begging for an extra milkshake.”

Bruce had to force his neck not to snap in Phantom’s direction. Because was this it? The proof he needed that Captain Marvel had a secret identity? And Phantom knew it?

Captain Marvel scowled in Phantom’s direction. “Dude!”

“What? What did I say?”

“You have an alternate id?” Hal asked.

“Ohhhhh…” Phantom realized. “Shit.”

Captain Marvel looked sheepish. “Of course I do, Hal. I can’t exactly walk around Fawcett City like this and be left alone.”

“I assumed you lived at the Rock of Eternity, for your duties as champion of magic,” Diana admitted.

Zatanna was suspiciously silent through this interaction, which Bruce thought was very telling. He’d always suspected that Justice League Dark knew more about Captain Marvel than they let on. But they would gain little information standing here interrogating Phantom and Captain Marvel. Far better to separate them to talk and use the inconsistencies in their stories to dig for the truth.

“We are wasting time here. We have a mission to complete,” Bruce said instead of the thousand questions burning the back of his throat.

Captain Marvel’s slumped in relief, but Phantom’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

“You feel too much like Red Robin. I know you’re just biding your time,” Phantom whispered as he floated by.

Bruce – because he was Bruce right now, not Batman – answered Phantom with a smirk.

Phantom rolled his eyes, muttering an insult about Bats too curious for their own good, and addressed everyone. “Alright, so walking into Amity Park as you are will feel some degree of awful. I’ll temporarily mark you as under my protection, which will allow you to bypass the worst of the wards and stave off most ectoplasmic energy seeking to infect you. The effects will last a few days, which means you all will be slightly liminal until my…presence – for lack of a better word – wears off. Questions?”

As expected, there were many questions that Phantom was semi-competent at answering. It didn’t help that every answer just spawned more questions. (For instance, Bruce wanted details on reality altering gemstones that were somehow once possessed by a circus. Not that he got them.) But it was a foregone conclusion they would all agree to let Phantom mark them. Amity Park had answers they needed. And it was partly the Justice League’s fault for remaining ignorant of the town’s plight. They had a responsibility to help them.

It was still awkward though when Phantom planted a kiss on Bruce’s forehead and his entire body shivered as if being brushed by death.

Chapter Text

Amity Park was Danny’s Haunt. Technically. In any case, it was his first Haunt, which was significant all on its own. Even though Phantom’s claim had somewhat lessened over his hometown, it was still his. He still felt the ebb and flow of ectoplasm and necrotic magic in and out (and because the Fenton Portal was still technically open, that was a lot.) He still got a say about who could and could not be there, and anyone who was there uninvited was his to deal with as he pleased. Well, anyone dead, that is. Not that it mattered much since the GIW sank their teeth so deeply in Danny’s hometown. Nowadays, most of Danny’s frequent antagonists preferred to fight him in the Realms. Most ghosts who did frequent Amity Park did so with Danny’s approval and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible to avoid the GIW’s radar.

Consequently, Danny didn’t have to return to Amity Park very often. Not that he wanted to anyway. Most of his friends had moved on, himself included. He loved going to college in Gotham, and honestly being around his parents these days was just awkward. He usually avoided going home if he could help it. Returning to Amity Park to tour the Justice League was not on his list of top ten weekend plans. And yet, here he was. For the record, Danny fully blamed Billy.

“Was the kiss really necessary?” Hal Jordan – a Green Lantern. So cool! He got to work in space! – asked as he rubbed his forehead.

“It’s probably the easiest and least painful way for me to transfer enough of my ectoplasm to you all. Unless you’d rather I hit you with a glowing ball of green slime,” Danny offered.

“I think I speak for us all when I say we prefer the kisses,” Captain Marvel said. “Your ectoblasts sting.”

Batman emerged from the SUV, Bruce Wayne now wearing cape and cowl since Phantom revealed Captain Marvel would be joining them into town and the mission could no longer be covert. Hal Jordan had donned his suit via ring too, but Zatanna and Wonder Woman chose to remain in their civilian clothes. Though Wonder Woman did hoister her lasso of truth to her belt. Zatanna hadn’t brought any kind of hero outfit, but Danny had no doubt she had all kinds of magic tricks up her sleeves.

Phantom took a deep breath, not that he really needed to. “Alright. Ground rules. One, standard ghost rules apply, if you meet one, don’t ask about their death or obsession. Also do not interfere if you see one acting oddly. They either have my permission to do so or I’ll deal with them myself. Two, please don’t do anything to attract any white-suited GIW agents. I don’t think they know I’m here and I’d like to keep it that way. Three, living people are going to have weird quirks, and probably won’t be very polite. If they have glowing eyes or weird powers just roll with it. Don’t draw attention to their weirdness; they’re all liminal to an extent. Four, follow my instructions. I’m letting you in my haunt, but I’m not afraid to kick you out of it either.”

Wonder Woman inclined her head respectfully. “We will abide by your conditions, King Phantom.”

Danny felt some tension leave him as the other Justice Leaguers agreed. Hopefully this would just be a quick in and out trip. With any luck, most people wouldn’t even be aware of his visit. Except Danny’s luck had never been that good.

Phantom flew alongside the SUV as it drove towards town. It had been a few months since he’d been back. Since the ghost attacks had decreased considerably, the town was almost functional again rather than rubble on every street corner and a building every block taped off from the structural damage. Most damage these days came from the less than welcome government agents who would roll through town, blasters blazing at the first sign of a ghostly signature. At least Danny’s parents weren’t the same way. They still blazed through town, but now their rampages were more for the gathering of scientific data and beating out GIW agents to talk to the ghosts. It still meant the Fentons still weren’t anyone’s favorite family in town, but at least they were now invited to community potlucks and anti-GIW planning sessions.

As Phantom led the unfamiliar vehicle through the streets, he received greetings from various pedestrians hustling by on the cold and windy day. The Justice Leaguers’ car following him received complicated looks starting with anger at a potential GIW threat chasing their town hero to curiosity once they realized the car was not white, and the occupants of the SUV were following road rules and refraining from blaster fire.

Dash Baxter – who had immediately joined the family business after graduating high school while pursuing an online associates degree – called out from the sidewalk. “Been a while, Phantom! Need a hand with the goons following you?!” He called out.

Danny waved away his former bully’s concern. “Nah, they’re with me. Can you keep it quiet?”

“You got it!” Dash gave Phantom a thumbs up before continuing down the street.

The nice thing about saving Amity Park enough times – especially as he came into his powers more – was that gradually Phantom was treated less like another ghostly menace and more of a local hero. He’d always had a fan following at Casper High, but as Danny put down greater threats and Vlad backed off on his smear campaign, the rest of the town had mostly come to appreciate him. They even got along well with some of the peaceful ghosts who occasionally made their way through the portal to fulfill their less destructive obsessions. For example, Phantom passed by a now ghostly Ida Manson zipping a ghostly scooter through Amity Park’s streets. Ida was Sam’s grandmother who had left her most of her inheritance upon her death, funding Sam’s traveling volunteer work. The native Amity Park ghost seemed to take particular delight in giving the GIW the runaround whenever their sensors picked her up. Danny worried about her, but Sam assured him that Ida was simply enjoying her afterlife. And who was he to stop her from that?

Phantom finally stopped at a park near the center of town and waited for the Justice Leaguers to park and exit the SUV.

Captain Marvel gaped in wonderment. “This town is insane. Does everyone’s aura glow with death energy here?”

Danny was surprised Billy bothered looking at the magical signatures at all when the wards had made him so nauseous. “Pretty much. Like I said, everyone here is liminal.”

Evidence came hurtling down the sidewalk on a skateboard towards them. Maeve Lancer was the daughter of one of Danny’s old English teachers. Her eyes were a pale, faintly glowing green. And she moved quickly enough that it wasn’t quite natural. She jumped off her board and flipped it into her hands in a move that nearly made Danny lunge forward to protect her from what could have been a brutal wipeout.

“Yo Phantom! You here to beat off the Justice dipshits?” Maeve asked.

Phantom scowled. “Does your father know you’re using that kind of language?”

“You going to narc on me?” Maeve countered. She turned to the Justice Leaguers. “Leave Phantom alone. We don’t want you here!” She told them.

Phantom sighed. “They’re with me.”

Maeve baulked. “Traitor!”

“I’m here to make sure they don’t do anything stupid or offensive, Maeve.”

“Well their presence offends me. So, kick the fuckers out already.”

“How do you even know this kind of language? Your Dad curses exclusively in book titles.”

Maeve shrugged. “Mom. She still doesn’t realize when her voice gets all loud and echoey sometimes.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward. “Young Maeve, You have much spirit. I am Wonder Woman. Perhaps – ”

“Nuh-uh. I ain’t talking to y’all.” Maeve turned fast enough that her black braid whipped behind her. “It’s been real, Phantom. I’d advise giving these wackos the abbreviated tour before you get a proper mob up your ass.”

“Seriously. Who is teaching you this kind of language? Your Dad once gave my class an hour lecture about how ‘ain’t’ isn’t a proper word.”

With a blown raspberry at Phantom and the Justice League, Maeve took off on her skateboard again, taking a corner a little too fast than should be physically possible.

“Well, she was rude.” Hal remarked.

“Someone that young should not be so saturated in death magic,” Zatanna muttered.

Danny felt his protective urge swell in anger for the remarks. Maeve Lancer may not be as polite as her parents would prefer, but she was still part of his haunt. Part of the people Danny had sworn to protect. “Maeve’s reaction is about what you can expect from anyone here.,” Danny answered coldly. “They may not have wanted to be liminal, but they are, and they’re making the best of it.”

“She should not have been able to make that turn,” Batman observed. He seemed the least fazed. Then again, after meeting most of his kids, Danny figured the Dark Knight was used to abrasiveness from children.

“That’s the liminality in her. Normal ghosts aren’t bound by the physics of this world. Maeve’s liminality means that when she’s moving fast enough, sometimes her mass isn’t quite…all there. It flickers just enough for her to make sharp turns or an extra-long jump.”

“That…that doesn’t make sense!” Hal protested. “You can’t just lose mass.”

Phantom shrugged. “Welcome to Amity. Normal laws don’t apply. If you tried measuring me with a normal scale you’d probably get a zero reading too. But then my – ” Danny almost had to bite his tongue when he realized he was about to talk about his other form to explain the lack of Conservation of Mass in his shifts. The mysteries of where Danny’s physical body went while in ghost form had long puzzled him and his friends. And more recently he’d driven his parents crazy for being what they termed, “A scientific impossibility.” Just what every child wanted to hear from their parents.

Phantom led the five Justice Leaguers around. They peppered him with plenty of questions and tried to be polite, but Danny could feel how on edge they were. It was probably the uncanniness of Amity Park. On the surface it looked like a perfectly ordinary Midwest town. But then they’d see a green rat float through a manhole cover in the street. Or see a building that still hadn’t quite covered up the blaster fire from a previous battle. And of course, there were the people. Everyone’s eyes seemed to glow at least a little bit. Especially when they bristled catching sight of the Justice League in their town. Few graced Phantom with friendly waves, instead preferring to stare coldly at the out-of-town heroes.

“Get out of here, freaks!” shouted Edwin Peabody, a man whose skin had slowly turned mottled blue over the years since the portal’s opening.

Captain Marvel flew up to Phantom’s side. “I cannot believe you were shocked when I complained about Fawcett City weirdness,” he whispered.

“Fawcett City is a whole other level. Telepathic alien worms, living statues, crocodile-men, and a literal mad scientist and his family…” Danny listed off some of Captain Marvel’s weirder foes. “We just have ghosts here. And trigger-happy bureaucrats.”  

A screech of tires from nearby kept Captain Marvel from arguing as their entire group tensed. Phantom spread out his ghostly senses to detect anything amiss in his haunt. When he felt the distress of several blob ghosts a couple of streets over, he could feel his form flicker.

“Wait here,” he said, about to rush off to the blob ghosts, but instead, they came speeding around the corner towards Phantom instead.

Danger! Danger! The ectoplasmic blobs hummed in ghost-speak.

And then another screech of tires and a white GIW slammed into view.

Here! Safe! Protect! Danny chirped at the blob ghosts, who zoomed towards their king like Danny was a magnet. Danny hastily pulled a Fenton thermos from his chest and sucked up the blob ghosts, before sliding the thermos back in his chest. The ghosts may not like getting souped, but they knew it was a far preferrable fate than getting caught.

“Do not interfere,” Danny cautioned the Justice Leaguers as the white van screeched to a halt next to Phantom.

The king’s tone it must have been enough to at least cause the Justice Leaguers to pause. Perks of granting them some of his ectoplasmic energy was now they had to at least slightly listen to Phantom when he commanded them. At least until the ectoplasm eventually wore off.

Immediately, a white rifle was pointed in Phantom’s face. It was a design Danny recognized well from his parents’ lab. It was likely improved since Jack Fenton had debuted the weapon four years ago as a way to take down more powerful ghosts, but it still wouldn’t be able to end Phantom. It would definitely sting though. He constructed an ecto shield to lessen the blast’s effects.

“Ghost boy!” The GIW agent behind the rifle snarled, completely ignoring the pack of Justice Leaguers behind Phantom.

“I thought Director Alpha said he was haunting Gotham these days,” another GIW agent spoke.

The rifle hummed and the tip began to light up with green energy. But it never made contact with Phantom’s shields. Instead, a blur of red raced by, deflecting the blast.

Phantom grinned as he watched a red figure on a hoverboard zip up to circle back to the agents.

“Thanks for the save, Red Huntress!” Phantom called out while the GIW agents in the white can cursed.

“Who?” Green Lantern spluttered.

“What are you doing here?” Red Huntress growled from above, and oh dear, that was Val’s angry voice.

“Haven’t you been keeping up with the chat? I give tours now!” Danny joked, because annoying his former enemies was one of his favorite pastimes.

Red Huntress growled in response as she dove again, targeting the tires of the GIW van. On the opposite end of the street, a crowd was forming, cheering on Red Huntress. She may not be the favorite hero of Amity Park, but the town liked anyone who beat on the government agents who had invaded them.

The GIW agents began shooting at Red Huntress since she was actively engaging them as a threat.  

Danny took the opportunity to usher the other heroes away.

“We should help,” Captain Marvel protested, but his feet still moved away, likely still affected by the king’s command. “At least the civilians – ”

“Nope!” Danny interrupted, physically pushing the Champion of Magic away faster. “This is so not a big deal. Let Red Huntress handle it. And the Amity Parkers can hold their own.”

“What have you done to us?” Batman growled as the Dark Knight felt compelled to walk away too. So apparently Billy wasn’t the only one who wanted to counter Phantom’s orders of non-interference. Darn, he was hoping they wouldn’t have noticed.

“It’s the King’s command,” Zatanna explained. “When we let him give us his ectoplasm, it gave him some control over us.”

“Whoa, whoa. Are you telling us you knew letting this twerp kiss us would let him command our minds? And you didn’t warn us?” Hal’s voice was high and strained, and his entire aura pulsed with anger and panic he was trying to keep in check.

“It will fade, I promise,” Danny quickly assured the Green Lantern. It did not seem to reassure any of them, except Zatanna who already knew.

Wonder Woman’s hand went to her lasso, and Batman already had batarangs in hand that felt laced with ectoplasmic energy. Greaaaat…Batman was already developing contingencies for Danny. He wondered if Tim knew? Had his new boyfriend helped make them? Without consulting Danny? Abruptly Danny’s core tinged with hurt.

No! Focus! Danny told himself. He could not lose himself in his ghostly emotions. Not with the Justice Leaguers’ panic rising. Clearly this group had not had good experiences with mind control. Danny could relate.

Captain Marvel managed to push through his panic enough for logic – or perhaps just fondness – to defend Denny. “Look, I know Phantom. He won’t command us for no reason. He was probably just trying to keep us and the town safe. And he did tell us to listen to him while we’re here.”

“Marvel is right!” Danny jumped at the defense, leading the Leaguers around another corner. “It’s part of my responsibilities as king to only use the powers wisely. I’m not going to force you to do anything. And I promise I won’t use my command so much that you can’t overcome a command with enough will. I think you’re still too living for me to even try and have it work.”

The Justice Leaguers eased some. “This was information we would have preferred to know in advance of the transfer of your energy,” Wonder Woman spoke.

“Didn’t think a situation would come up where I’d have to use it,” Danny snapped. He took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said more gently. He knew the apology wasn’t sincere, but Danny couldn’t be bothered to be truly abashed. He would prioritize the safety of those he considered his over the comfort of the Justice League. And honestly, he’d thought Batman and Captain Marvel would have at least known about the king’s command after seeing him in action.

A whoosh overhead and a shadow falling across them didn’t break up the tense atmosphere, but it did mean everyone looked up to watch Red Huntress descend. She jumped off her board in front of Phantom and immediately pushed into his space.

“You. Are. An. Idiot,” she punctuated with pokes into Danny’s chest. He turned intangible, but it didn’t prevent Valerie from emphasizing her point.

“Who is this?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Red Huntress,” Batman grunted. “Another Amity Park ghost hunter.”

Red Huntress looked past Danny at the Justice Leaguers. “Why are there Leaguers in Amity Park, Phantom? And you better have a good explanation, I swear to the Ancients.”

“They’re here to help! I swear!” Danny said. “Red, meet Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Zatanna, and Captain Marvel.”

“I know who they are, I was at the watch parties with you. I still don’t know why they’re here.”

“Watch parties?” Zatanna asked, which was the worst thing she could have inquired about.

Danny sighed as Val replied fake sweetly, “Yes. Us teens here in Amity Park consider it great fun to get together and watch your fights and point out every lame thing you do. We tried it as a drinking game once. The hangover was awful. Someone nearly died.”

“Red,” Danny bemoaned, “They really are here to help. They want evidence to overturn the Acts.”

Val – terrible friend that she was – snorted with amusement. “Just tell them your life story. More than enough evidence there.”

“What is she talking about?” Captain Marvel asked, and oh no, that was his sad and guilty voice.

Phantom turned to the Fawcett City hero. “Don’t worry about it. I doubt my case would hold up well in court.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Hal interrupted. “I thought you said this chick was a ghost hunter, Batman.”

“She is,” the dark knight confirmed.

“She’s awfully chummy with Phantom for being a hunter of his kind.”

Danny could practically feel Val rolling her eyes underneath her helmet. “I’m Phantom’s ally, moron. I keep the peace while he’s away. These days I’m harassing white-suits way more than hunting down blob ghosts.”

“It’s true,” Danny added. “She’s one of my best friends.”

“To my misfortune.”

“Rude.”

“How many young heroes are in this town anyway?” Green Lantern interrupted. “I was under the impression just Phantom protected Amity Park.”

Red Huntress hunched over she laughed so hard. “You think this string bean with the survival instinct of a kid’s balloon could take care of this place alone? Ha!”

“How many others are there?” Zatanna asked.

“None of your business,” Red Huntress replied. “Just know that Phantom may be the main hero around here, but he has a team. Mostly alive, but certain ghosts lend a hand when things get…weird. Usually when this popsicle stick is being an idiot.”

Danny sighed. The Justice League would never think he was cool with friends like these.

Wonder Woman gave both Amity Park heroes a soft smile. “I am glad that when we failed you that at least you had other battle brothers and sisters to fight alongside. To be a solo hero is a lonely path.”

Phantom returned the Amazon’s smile. “Red is right, I couldn’t have made it this far alone.”

“Well, I think I’ve done enough friendly chitchat. I’ll keep the white-suited pigs off your tail while you tour around the Justice dipshits,” Red Huntress said, then addressed the Justice League. “It’s been more of a pleasure than I expected. But also, get out of our town.”

Batman murmured to himself nearby. “Tucker Foley, Daniel Fenton, Sam Manson…” And Danny just knew he was trying to figure out Red Huntress’ identity. Danny doubted anything he said would prevent the world’s greatest detective from figuring it out, so he let Batman and his latest puzzle be.

“Thanks, Red!” Danny waved good-bye as Val zoomed off on her hoverboard.

Once his friend was out of sight, Danny turned to the Justice Leaguers. “In her abrasive way, Red Huntress is right. You all have been spotted by the GIW, so I should probably get you out of town before they decide you’re ecto-entities.”

“We have a lot of the information we need,” Green Lantern said, “but there’s one more thing we wants to look into.” He exchanged a glance with the other Leaguers.

“Jack and Madeline Fenton,” Zatanna continued. “We suspect they have a role in the excess of necrotic magic in Amity Park. Going through archives, I noticed they’re descendants of the Fentonightingales, witches and witch-hunters. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

Danny tried to keep himself still to hide the panic swelling within him. But he knew his form glitched a little bit with Zatana’s mention of his parents. “I really don’t think that’s necessary. The Fentons are basically harmless.”

Batman disagreed. “GIW files indicate much of their anti-ghost technology came from Fenton designs. Their early work in ectology sparked much of the anti-ecto sentiment that sparked the Acts.”

Danny shook his head. His core buzzed with distress. They were his parents. He knew what they had done. He’d spent four years running from the wrong end of their weapons. He knew they were dangerous. But they hadn’t known better.

“Phantom?” Captain Marvel asked. “Are you alright? You’re kind of…staticky.”

Danny shook his head. “They’re just…they’re not like that anymore.”

“Is this because of your association with Daniel Fenton?” Batman asked, voice softening ever so slightly. Danny probably wouldn’t have noticed if Batman’s aura hadn’t also changed from curious and probing to concerned. “I find it unlikely he participated in his parents’ crimes.”

“C-crimes?!” Danny choked. “No. They’re Not…they care…they didn’t mean – ”

Danny cut off when he saw the heroes clapping their hands over their heads. He realized he had started talking in ghost speak. Danny took a deep breath. Usually he’d lessen his ghostly instincts by transforming back into his half-alive state, but he didn’t want to do that on a public street in front of heroes he barely knew. Instead, he settled for practicing living habits like deep breathing and grounding himself by pressing his hand against a nearby brick wall. He let himself his form have mass, and his feet touched down on the ground. Slowly, his emotions began to calm.

“You are emotionally connected to the Drs. Fenton,” Wonder Woman observed. “How? Most of our evidence suggests they are some of your primary antagonists.”

Danny shook his head. “They didn’t know any better,” he replied softly. “They’re changing.”

“DANNY!” A boisterous, enthusiastic, and unfortunately familiar voice shouted. Danny froze and refused to look around knowing he’d see a tank in an orange-jumpsuit behind him. And he really wanted to appreciate a few moments in denial that his Dad had just spotted him in Amity Park just after he finished staving off a ghostly emotional surge over the Justice League wanting to investigate his parents.

“Shit,” Danny breathed out.

“Dear, remember we have to use his other name when he’s like this,” another too familiar voice spoke. And was growing closer. Great, Mom was here too.

“Oh right. PHANTOM!” His Dad shouted, and there went Danny’s dreams of keeping his secret identity intact from the Justice League.

“Is that – ” Hal started.

“Has to be,” Zatanna replied. “The death magic around them is stronger than anyone else living around here.

Wonder Woman and Batman stepped forward as if to shield Phantom behind them. Danny’s time for denial was up.

Danny leapt away from the heroes to stand between them and his parents. “Don’t. They’re not going to attack me.”

“Evidence suggests otherwise,” Batman growled, a non-ectolaced batarang visible in one of his hands.

Captain Marvel looked nervous, not quite standing with a confused Hal and Zatanna, but neither was he bristling to defend Phantom like Batman and Wonder Woman. And Danny just knew his Fawcett City friend was putting the pieces together. He’d given Billy enough information over the years the conclusion would be obvious.

“Guys, we should go,” Captain Marvel suggested. “This won’t end well.”

But it was honestly too late, because Jack and Madeline Fenton were fast approaching.

“Phantom! Why didn’t you tell us you were visiting?!” Jack Fenton exclaimed in his usual boisterous manner.

Danny turned around and gave his parents a forced smile. “Hello, Jack and Maddie,” he emphasized, hoping his Dad might get the hint.

“You should have told us, sweetie,” Madeline Fenton said, bulldozing over Danny’s attempts at discretion, removing her hood and goggles to reveal the bright red hair she shared with Jazz, and the violet eyes that neither of her children inherited. “We would have made fresh fudge.”

Yeah, Danny’s secret identity was so fucked.

“Impromptu visit,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Jack Fenton approached and put up his hand to give Danny one of his spine-jarring backslaps, before seeming to remember Danny was in his ghost form and then thought better of it. Jack always felt weird about touching Phantom. In fact, at the moment both his parents had an aura of tension, as was usual whenever Danny was in ghost form. Too many years of them fighting on opposing sides, he supposed.

“Well, sport, it’s good to see you home! Are these some new friends of yours? Of the ghostly variety?” Jack Fenton asked with a wink.

Danny fought the urge to facepalm. He knew his parents were oblivious, but surely they would at least recognize Batman or Wonder Woman? As usual, his Dad’s overeagerness to be supportive came at the worst and most embarrassing time.

“Oh my God,” Hal exclaimed. “Are they your parents?”

Danny wanted to melt into a pile of ectoplasmic goo.

Zatanna and Wonder Woman gasped. Batman was disconcertingly still, and Danny could feel a maelstrom of conflicting emotions wafting off him that Danny decided to just ignore for the time being. Captain Marvel – perhaps because he was less surprised and always liked putting a polite foot first – walked forward and held out his hand. “I’m Captain Marvel, a hero in another city and a friend of Phantom.”

Madeline Fenton – because his parents could always embarrass Danny in new ways – pulled out an ecto-detector and looked at the readings. “Living. Apart from some of Phantom’s ectoplasm. Do I want to know what you have been doing with your friends, Sweetie?” His Mom raised a judgmental eyebrow at the clearly older looking Justice Leaguers in attendance.

Danny did facepalm this time. “Ancients! I only shared some ectoplasm so they would be able to get into town!”

Jack Fenton disregarded Captain Marvel’s hand and instead pulled him into a back-breaking hug. There were not many people who could make Captain Marvel look tiny in a hug, and yet, Jack Fenton’s bulk managed yet again to do the improbable. “Well any friend of Danno’s is a friend of ours. Welcome to Amity Park, Captain!”

Danny gave up. He just gave up. What was even the point of secret identities anyway? He should just go hide himself in his Keep and return back to Earth in a hundred years when everyone in this conversation was dead. Wait, didn’t Amazons live a super long time? Maybe he’d just have to write off this dimension entirely. Go hang out with Dani for a while and live her hobo lifestyle.

Batman pulled Danny aside. He must have finally muddled through that emotional turmoil of his. “You are Daniel Fenton,” he said quietly.

Danny scratched the back of his head. He never had been very good at lying as a ghost, and he’d hate to start off his relationship with Tim lying to his father figure. “Maybe?” He squeaked.

Batman grunted. Danny had no idea what it meant, the dark knight’s emotions still too confusing to parse. When Danny didn’t reply, he followed it up with, “How.”

“Complicated. It’s like what Jason has. I straddle the line of life and death, just to more of an extreme.”

“Jason has what?” And wow, the Bats really needed to communicate more because now Batman’s aura was a tsunami of worry and grief. Did Jason tell them anything?!

Thankfully, Danny’s Dad saved him from the conversation, after introducing himself to other Justice Leaguers. “Who’s your emo friend? I mean apart from Sam?” Both Jack and Maddie guffawed at the sub-par joke.

Danny darted away from the Dark Knight to his Dad’s side. “This is Batman. From Gotham.”

“Oh! I thought he was a ghost. Mads! Didn’t we always say we were going to take a visit and check?”

“Yes, dear. Remember, Danny asked us not to.”

“Oh…right. Well! Pleasure to meet you anyway, Mister Batman!” And then Jack Fenton proceeded to pull Batman into a hug. And Danny was going through a lot of emotions at the moment (mostly embarrassment on top of a squirming layer of fear). But he could not let this once in a lifetime opportunity pass by without photographic evidence. No one would ever believe him. He held up his phone to snap a picture as Jack Fenton seemed to crush the life out of Batman as the Dark Knight tensed in obvious discomfort. If nothing else, Tim would probably appreciate the image. If their very new relationship even made it through this absolute nightmare of a situation.

“You all should stay for dinner,” Danny’s Mom suggested. “I made a casserole!”

Danny shivered, memories of ecto-contaminated casserole bubbling with life haunting him. “Actually, we were just about to leave. GIW know I’m here, so…”

Jack and Maddie sagged in disappointment. “Fiddlesticks,” Danny’s Dad muttered as he released Batman from his hug. Batman quickly retreated out of further hugging distance into a shadow.

Green Lantern began, “Actually, we do have a few – ”

“Nope!” Danny interrupted. “We have to go.”

“Phantom,” Wonder Woman started.

“No,” more of Danny’s kingly speak leaked through, but he was doing his very best to keep the command aspect out since it had freaked them all out earlier. “I won’t have you endangering me or my family for the sake of your questions. We’re done here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Maddie and Jack flinch. He tried not to feel too bad about it. They were still getting used to treating Phantom like an extension of their son, rather than the non-sentient ghost they’d hunted for years. But it still hurt to feel fear wafting off of them when Danny exhibited more ghostly characteristics.

“Phantom, they are pivotal for this investigation.”

“And they are under my protection!” Phantom shouted at Batman.

“Why?” Captain Marvel demanded.

Everyone turned to the Champion of Magic who had been mostly polite up until now.

“Why what?” Danny demanded, bristling further at the frustration emanating from his friend.

“Why do you protect them? They hunted you. Does ‘tearing apart molecule by molecule’ ring a bell?” Captain Marvel said with a rising voice, protective anger curling off of him. “They hurt you.”

Guilt pulsed from behind Phantom where Jack and Maddie stood. Ugh, and this was why Danny avoided Amity Park these days. He and his parents still hadn’t fully confronted their complex and toxic relationship in Danny’s teen years. And he was not going to have it with a bunch of strangers here either.

“Don’t go there, Captain,” Danny cautioned, painful barbs towards Billy’s orphan and former street kid status lurking on the back of his tongue.

“Danny, I know we – ” Madeline Fenton began.

But Danny was serious about not talking about this now. “Later,” he promised his Mom, gentling his voice as much as he could in his agitated state.

He glared at the Justice League, pushing where Danny didn’t want them to press. From Zatanna’s flinch he knew his energy was sparking. At this rate, he would light up GIW sensors like a beacon. “The tour is over,” he told them.

Before any of them could protest, Danny snapped his fingers, a green portal opening up underneath the feet of the Justice Leaguers, depositing them in a field a mile outside Elmerton. It was always more exhausting doing it remotely than using his claws, but as long as Phantom didn’t have any major fights until he recharged, he should be fine.

The heroes fell through. And Danny snapped the portal closed almost immediately so their flying members wouldn’t be able to come back.

Danny faced his parents again, and let his rings of transformation wash over him, partly to avoid the intensity of the ghost emotions. Also, it would put his parents more at ease to see him in his human form.

“Oh Danny, I know we said it before, but we’re so sorry,” his Mom said, eyes wet with tears. “We’ve been doing research! You should see the new stuff we’re working on.”

Danny held up a hand, even in this form, discomfited by the desperation wafting off his parents. “It’s…I know. We’ll talk later, Mom. I promise. I have to…I can’t stick around”

“You’ll be back soon though, right, Danno?” His Dad asked. And Ancients, he was pulling out the puppy dog eyes. Curses.

Danny gave his Dad a small smile. “Sure, Dad.” Guilt squeezed Danny’s gut.

He gave both parents quick hugs and “I love you”s before flying off invisibly.

Danny wanted to portal back to Gotham immediately, but his time in Amity Park wasn’t over yet. He had an SUV to return. And wash, he realized when he found it tagged by the locals with some provocative language against the Justice League.

Danny sat on the roof of the vehicle, staring up at the blue sky. He knew bringing the Justice League here was a bad idea, and yet…He just hoped this didn’t mean they would not turn against ghosts now. Danny lay back, closed his eyes and quietly let himself have a breakdown.

In a field in Illinois, five Justice Leaguers stared at each other as they stood up with the familiar sight of Amity Park’s neighboring town of Elmerton to the south. Guilt gnawed at Captain Marvel’s insides. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed Danny like that. He’d been the one to advocate leaving the confrontation after all. But seeing Danny defend those who had hurt and neglected him for years had set off something in Billy. He hated seeing his friend in distress, but instead of helping, he’d made everything worse.

“Well that could have gone better,” Hal proclaimed, earning him glared from everyone else. “Hey! I’m just saying!”

Zatanna groaned and her head fell in her hands. “We just pissed off the King of the Infinite Realms in his own haunt. We threatened his Fraid. I’m surprised he only portaled us away.”

“You took him aside. What did you speak of to him?” Diana asked, brushing off some of the grass clinging to her blouse.

Batman paused. “I do not think Phantom would appreciate another of his secrets being revealed after our lack of cooperation in Amity Park.”

Wonder Woman nodded in acquiescence.

“I didn’t think he had another name. Not all ghosts choose to carry their living name. Let alone living parents,” Zatanna explained. “Captain Marvel seemed to know though.” She glared at Billy.

“He died fairly recently by infinity’s standards,” Billy decided to explain. “Only six years ago.”

Zatanna’s face blanched. “And they made him king? He’s practically an infant by ghostly standards!”

“For now, his age does not matter. What matters is we pushed where he warned us not to. We must make amends if we can,” Wonder Woman insisted.

“And if we can’t?” Hal asked.

“Then we proceed as planned,” Batman replied. “Whether we have the King’s cooperation or not, the Anti-Ecto Acts can’t stand. We can only hope to make it up to King Phantom moving forward.”

“I just can’t get over how normal his name is. Never would have thought some kind of godly king would be named Danny,” Hal remarked.

Billy thought to himself, Boy are you going to be in for a surprise if you ever learn my name. If he wasn’t feeling so torn up inside, he might have chuckled.

Bruce stood and began to walk towards the town in the distance, the other Leaguers close behind. Without the WE car, they would have to find alternative transportation back to a zeta tube. Billy figured he and Hal would be sent to get a car. Then, there were reports to write, a debrief, and planning for what to do next. Worst of all, Billy was going to have to figure out how to apologize to his ghostly friend that he had just royally pissed off.

Chapter Text

Red Robin crouched on the roof in the Warehouse District with Robin while they waited for a deal to go down between an Ibanescu brother and the East Side Dragons. It was Tim’s first official night back out on patrol. And while the family had wanted to keep him on a light docket, he’d recently been working with Damian on his case: gathering evidence for a new dog fighting operation on the rise. And tonight was the deal that would make the case iron-clad. Of course, Red Robin was going to be here for this.

Steph had originally picked up the tip about the Ibanescus and East Side Dragons planning a deal. But she was swamped with a case involving the Falcones, so Damian had jumped at the chance to pick it up instead. The current Robin was always eager to stop crimes with animal cruelty, and considering the previous history of Ibanescus and East Side Dragons involvement in Gotham’s dog-fighting rings, there was a good chance this case involved something similar. Tim had been surprised when Damian asked for his help on it, breaching and sifting through data on the Romanian mob and Chinese gang. Tim had been reluctant at first, but working with Damian seemed to lessen everyone else’s hovering. And at least Damian wouldn’t coddle him.

Tim flexed his fingers as they waited. If he let his muscles sit idly for too long, his post electric shock syndrome meant chronic pain making an appearance. Additionally, his now weakened muscles weren’t helping. But Doctor Thompkins did say that with time she expected him to make an almost complete recovery, but he was still having weekly checkups to monitor for any neurological changes from the torture by the GIW.

“Are you certain you will not be hinderance on this mission?” Robin asked, blunt as always.

Tim suppressed the sneer he wanted to answer with. “This is recon. We’re only engaging with them if things go south. I think I can handle this.”

“I will not babysit you while fighting off both Chinese gangsters and Romanian mobsters,” Robin cautioned.

“You won’t need to.” This time, Tim did sneer.

“Boys, do we need to reassign patrols?” Batman asked. He had been understandably wary when Robin agreed to Tim’s request to patrol together. Up until recently the two of them hadn’t gotten along very well.

“No,” Tim and Damian answered in unison.

“I don’t mind swinging by. All’s quiet at East End,” Nightwing added.

Tim could see Damian bristling. He’d grown and matured a lot since arriving on Bruce’s doorstep, but puberty had only made Damian more stubborn about his independence. “Red Robin and I do not need your supervision, Nightwing.”

“Yeah, Big Bird, stop mothering us.” Personally, Tim was a bit offended by how quickly Nightwing wanted to jump in and check on them. Tim and Damian might still bicker worse than any of their other siblings, but they’d come a long way from the days of attempted fratricide.

Nightwing squawked over the comms, leading to Oracle reprimanding them all for unprofessionalism over the Main line.

Tim grinned at Damian, whose mouth twitched in the barest indication of humor. It quickly turned into a furrow of concentration though. His eyes had drifted to a point slightly to the right of Tim.

“Ibanescu just arrived,” Robin remarked quietly. “Going radio silent.”

Red Robin turned around quietly and watched a black SUV park in front of the warehouse. Four mobsters spilled out, and one weaselly man in a gray suit with thin mustache followed.

Lucian Ibanescu, younger brother of Dragos, the head of the Ibanescu crime family, Tim recalled as he watched the man surround himself with the other men for protection and the group made their way to the warehouse where the deal was supposed to go down. Lucian definitely follows in his brother’s footsteps of crime, the go-between for Ibanescu interests in the illegal animal trade of Gotham, and a major player in Gotham’s dog fighting rings.

It was no great mystery why Damian had been so eager to jump on this case and possibly lock up Lucian Ibanescu for good. Several hacking jobs, a few hours of surveillance, and tracing some calls led Damian and Tim to their current warehouse. But they could still only guess at the exchange about to take place.

Three of the Chinese gangsters exited the warehouse. The other three were still inside – presumably guarding whatever was in a crate neither Red Robin or Robin had been able to investigate.

Below, Lucian Ibanescu and Yi Xiaobo, an East Side Dragon lieutenant, exchanged typical threatening pleasantries. Both operating out of East End, the only reason the Ibanescu family and East Side Dragons managed to cooperate was the smuggling trade was more profitable with them working together rather than constantly undermining one another.

“You said you have sensitive cargo, and that is why we needed to meet here. I grow impatient with your mystery,” Lucian Ibanescu said in clumsy Mandarin.

“It is worth the confidentiality,” Yi Xiaobo reassured in much better mandarin, but with the Jersey accent most of the first and second generation Chinese in Gotham had. “A banker for the Ring on Williams Street.”

Tim had to hand it to Lucian Ibanescu, he showed no outward eagerness for a potential dog that was guaranteed to win fights and could have them rolling in even more money. “For such secrecy, this meeting was very sudden. I would almost suspect double-crossing.”

Yi Xiaobo spat to the side. His voice was cold when it returned, “If we were seeking to double cross you, we would not waste time with guppies, we’d go after the shark.”

The air was charged as the Romanians and Chinese faced off, everyone with hands near their weapons and ready to draw. Tim shifted, preparing his own stance to jump in if this exchange went south. He could sense Robin next to him doing the same.

But after several still seconds, Lucian Ibanescu relaxed and a small smile quirked up. In English this time, he said, “Ruthless as always, Yi. Tell me how you came across this mysterious prize.”

Yi Xiaobo smirked in return. “About a week ago an outta-towner came scouting our territory for a place to lay low. Looked like a Fed, so we stayed clear.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” said Lucian.

Xiaobo shrugged. “Well, you know the rules. Gotta pay the hazard fees if you wanna stay out of sight on our turf. Especially if you’re looking over your shoulder for a Bat.”

Lucian Ibanescu frowned. “A Fed? We don’t need their lot hanging ‘round and snooping.”

“Nah, not that kind of Fed. Science-sort. Doing some freaky stuff with animals. They ain’t gonna fuck like usual; they’ll want to keep it hush-hush. Besides, there’s no more pig left to squeal anyway.”

“But we still don’t want ‘em catching the trail, hence the rush,” Lucian Ibanescu nodded as he understood the Dragon’s logic. “Fine, show me what you have.”

Tim had a bad feeling from this conversation. He looked over to Robin who seemed equally disturbed by what he was hearing. He wanted more information to confirm his burgeoning theory, but it would have to wait until he could interrogate one of the East End Dragons.

Robin and Red Robin crept over the roof to their window entrance on the other side of the building so they could sneak inside and overhear the actual deal.

“This doesn’t sound like a typical trafficking exchange,” Robin remarked.

“I agree,” Tim replied.

“You already have a theory,” Robin returned. It was not a question.

“Hmm. More hunch. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that shortly after you and the others rescued Hood and I from the GIW, some kind of governmental agent was looking to lay low on the opposite side of town.”

Robin stared. “I think you’ve spent too much time on the Phantom Case.”

“No, listen! It makes sense,” Tim insisted.

“Your infatuation with a ghost has heightened your usual obsessive tendencies.”

“How do you know about – nevermind. I’m not just fixating. I think there’s a connection.”

“Save it for later, Red Robin.” Damian held up a hand. With the other, he pointed down below where two of the East End Dragons were cracking open a cargo container.

Both vigilantes crouched in the ceiling above, prepped to drop down at a moment’s notice. It was funny and sad at the same time; all these years of the Bats operating in Gotham, and goons still forgot to sweep the rafters for party crashers.

The crate was opened, but it wasn’t an animal within. Instead, it was a lot of packing material and three metal containment devices, one of them looking like a very familiar soup thermos. Tim sucked in a breath. The same type of soup thermos thing he’d seen Phantom use before to capture ghosts.

“What is this?” Lucian Ibanescu asked in tense Mandarin.

“Wait and watch,” Yi Xiaobo replied. He signaled to a couple of the other gang members. They removed some of the additional objects in the crate.

Red Robin and Robin exchanged loaded looks as they recognized GIW weapons. Tim tried not to look too smug as he did so.

Robin bristled beside him. “We cannot let this technology fall into the hands of Gotham’s organized crime.”

“Duh. Plan?” Red Robin asked, deferring to the lead on the case.

“Standby. We should see what exactly they have captured. And we still need proof for the police,” Robin replied.

Red Robin nodded in acquiescence. He pulled out his wrist computer to pull up Tucker Foley’s files on GIW technology while Robin continued to observe the proceedings below. He had been right about the Fenton Thermos. And the other weapons the two goons were wearing registered as wrist rays. Probably not significantly damaging to either vigilante, but they were designed to disrupt ectoplasmic frequencies. The other unidentified technology in the crate appeared to be another type of holding advice, but for smaller samples than an ectoplasmic being.

In the meantime, another gangster removed the Fenton thermos and began to unscrew the lid while Yi Xiaobo gestured for everyone to move back. As the thermos clicked open, glowing green light and liquid spilled from underneath the cap. And then coalesced into a creature. Still bright green and no more than a foot tall.

Robin sucked in a sharp breath next to Tim as the shape formed a dog with a spiky collar. It looked a bit like a mastiff puppy. If a mastiff puppy were lime green with red eyes. Immediately, the dog curled in on himself, whimpering as his tail tucked between his legs. Red Robin put a reassuring hand on Damian’s shoulder. The younger vigilante must have been truly distressed, because he didn’t brush off the hand.

“Fascinating. What is it?” Lucian asked.

“Fuck if I know. But I know it’s powered up like a damn alien. Intangibility, flight, super speed, and that’s all while it’s like this,” Xiaobo replied.

The glowing green, probably ghost dog attempted to make a break for it, but one of the gangsters was ready with the wrist ray, and immediately hit the dog. The dog began crying out, seizing in place from the wrist ray hitting it with some sort of green light.

Robin moved to jump down and stop the goon, but Red Robin’s hand tightened on Damian’s shoulder. “Wait. Not yet.”

Damian hissed with displeasure, but even he knew this wasn’t the proper moment.

“I’m calling Phantom,” Tim decided

“We do not need your paramour here. We can handle this.”

“Phantom knows how to calm down a distressed ghost. I can’t say either of us do.”

“…Fine.”

Below, the exchange continued. “Seems an awfully skittish sort,” Lucian remarked.

“Ah, but that’s what the other product is for. Acts as some kind of behavioral enhancer.” Xiaobo gestured to a fourth gangster, who removed the other containment device from the straw. It opened, and the ghost dog below growled in displeasure, eyes flashing red.

Robin flinched, his face growing paler at the sight. And Red Robin could understand why, tensing himself. Because where the fuck had the GIW gotten ahold of Lazarus Pit Water? And it was definitely Lazarus Pit Water, especially now that Tim could see the difference between it and the pure ectoplasm of the dog below.

Tim’s call to Danny connected. Thank God. Danny had been spotty about communication the past few days, finally replying to Tim’s texts yesterday. And Bruce had been suspiciously tight-lipped about the visit to Amity Park. He’d spent most of his time since hiding out in the Watchtower under the guise of “work.” Clearly something had happened.

Danny yawned on the other end. “Birdie? Kinda late for a call. Isn’t it your first night back on patrol?”

“Phantom,” Tim greeted. “Robin and I are observing a ghost trafficking case. Lazarus Pit Water involved.”

“SHIT. Where are you?” Danny asked.

“Warehouse District. Number 67.”

“Stay put. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

But Lucian Ibanescu had that look in his eyes of untapped potential for a super-powered dog. The deal was as good as done. “No time. Get here fast.” And then Red Robin disconnected the call, despite Danny’s protests on the other end.

Tim turned to Robin. “Plan?”

“You distract. I’ll get the dog away.” There was no time for argument. One of the Ibanescus was bringing out the case of cash.

They held for a moment more. Just long enough for the vigilantes to snap pictures of evidence. Then they made their move once the deal was complete. One of Yi Xiaobo’s men tried to corral the green dog back into a soup thermos, but it had taken on a sickly green aura, and then the dog began to grow. Things were spiraling out of control fast.

Red Robin descended into the thick of things. “Evening. Nice night for a beatdown.”

“Red Robin,” Xiaobo spat, followed by some very detailed Mandarin expletives.

Lucian was already taking one of his goons and the case to the exit, leaving the rest of his crew behind to deal with the vigilante and collect the ghost dog. Red Robin took the opportunity to engage with those nearest to the mobster before flipping behind crates just as the gunfire started. Distraction successful so far.

As planned, Robin dropped down in front of the fleeing Ibanescus, unsheathing his katana with the terror-inspiring smirk Damian had perfected over his years as Robin.

As usual, the fighting was chaos. Both vigilantes danced and fought with the ease of thousands of hours of training, and hundreds of Gotham fights. They could adapt to just about anything a Gotham gangster could surprise them with. But even they were having trouble avoiding the now nine foot tall mastiff ghost that was a growling rage monster who treated both gangster and vigilante like his personal chew toys.

Tim had to disengage from a fight against two of Ibanescu’s men to help Robin when the younger vigilante found himself pinned underneath one of the ghost dog’s paws. Red Robin tore one of the wrist rays from a Chinese gangster and then slid across the warehouse floor, aiming an ecto ray to hit the dog’s jaw before the dog could bite Damian’s head off.

Robin used Tim’s distraction to wiggle free as the dog whimpered and then growled. The red eyes of the mastiff bore down on Red Robin.

“Shit,” Tim hissed. His luck was made worse by the Chinese gangsters he disengaged a moment ago regrouping and coming after him too.

“Get a thermos!” Tim shouted to Damian as he leapt up and flipped over the gangsters. He hissed with pain as a bullet grazed his leg. However, the gunfire tapered off as the giant ghost dog barreled over the Chinese gangsters. Of course, this now meant Red Robin’s sole enemy was a giant, rabid ghost animal for whom warehouse crates and walls were no obstacle.

Robin didn’t reply, but he did release a smoke bomb to cover his retreat from both mobsters and gangsters alike. A combination of adrenaline and years of Bat training at suppressing pain saved him from limping, but Tim knew he’d be feeling it all later.

“Got him!” A Chinese gangster barked in mandarin.

Fear flooded through Tim as he realized that they were likely talking about Damian. He pushed through building panic urging him to double back to rescue his brother. What were his options here? Surely there had to be a way to at least stall until his boyfriend arrived?

“Let go of me!” One of the Romanians barked in English. False alarm then.

Red Robin let out a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, because the giant green ghost dog had caught up and leapt over Tim’s head, cutting off his escape.

Tim’s head supplied a steady mantra of “shit.shit.shit.shit.shit,” as he skidded across the ground and turned abruptly down a narrow path between stacks of crates.

Over the comms, some of the Bats were talking about backup or asking for status reports. It was distracting enough that Tim turned off the main channel. He’d get hell for that later, but for now he had to outmaneuver a ghost.

He fiddled with the com settings on his wrist computer as he ran until he connected to a private channel. “Robin, do you copy?” Tim asked. “Putting us on a private link.”

“Tt, Batman will not be pleased,” Robin replied.

“Batman can shove his worry up his ass.” Red Robin wouldn’t normally be so emotional. But looking behind him to see a ghost dog ploughing through the shipping crates with intangibility was making it difficult to keep a lead on his fight or flight response. There was no way to out-maneuver this thing when it could pass through literally any obstacle.

Tim heard a clang of steel across the warehouse and the sound of gunfire. The gangsters had found Robin. And with the smoke cloud dissipating, it wouldn’t be long until his brother was outnumbered.

“Status on a thermos?” Tim asked.

“Busy!” Robin grunted back.

They were so fucked.

Tim took a sharp left directly towards the fighting. The ghost dog might not discriminate between captor and rescuer, but the goons would certainly be distracted. At least somewhat.

“Headed your way. Canine incoming,” Red Robin reported.

“Idiot! What if they hurt him?”

“I’m pretty sure the nine foot tall, Pit-mad, dead dog is going to do far more damage to them than they will to it,” Tim snapped over the link.

Tim jumped up into the rafters via some crates and took down two gangsters lying in wait on a catwalk above, waiting for the smoke to clear for a visual on the vigilantes. He just barely avoided the ghost dog’s jaws snapping at him. The catwalk was not so lucky.

Red Robin was flung from the catwalk. Dick’s acrobatic training kicked in and Tim rolled into the landing on the ground. Right in the middle of the fight. The smoke was almost clear. He threw a batarang into one of Ibanescu’s men, then stood back-to-back with Damian.

He looked around and did a quick count. One Romanian was still fighting and three Chinese gangsters, including Yi Xiaobo. Lucian Ibanescu had long since fled.

“Did you allocate a thermos?” Robin gritted out as he dodged a knife slash from Yi Xiaobo.

“When would I have had time? Been kind of running for my life here!”

The ghost dog joined the fray, stepping on Ibanescu’s man to get to Red Robin. This led to counter fire from Yi Xiaobo holding a wrist ray. And then, finally, the dog’s attention left Red Robin as he whined at the impact of the green blast. Then turned his attention to Yi Xiaobo.

Robin managed to dispatch his own opponent, and Tim took on the final gangster, dodging a gunshot and then knocking him out swiftly with his bo. As the final Romanian tried to stand back up, Robin took the opportunity to knock him out with the hilt of his katana. And then Yi Xiaobo was the only one left. Except, not really, because the ghost dog was currently engaged in a horrifying tug of war with his wrist ray and the arm attached while the gang leader screamed in terror.

“CUJO, NO!” Phantom’s familiar, staticky king’s voice echoed through the warehouse.

Tim snapped around to see his boyfriend flying in. He was flickering in and out of his teenage ghost form, the ice-flame crown a shadow over his head. And then it stopped, and Phantom stabilized. “Spit that out right now!”

The ghost dog growled.

Phantom screeched something unintelligible to human ears like two icebergs sliding against one another. Yi Xiaobo whimpered.

Finally, the ghost dog let go of the arm and wrist ray. Red Robin winced at the sight of the huge gashes in Yi Xiaobo’s arm that the dead dog’s teeth had left. He was pretty sure he saw the white of bone.

The gangster scurried backwards as Phantom flew forward towards the ghost dog’s snout. Tim knew his boyfriend could handle himself, but it didn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat when the ghost dog bared his teeth at Phantom.

“CUJO, SMALL!” Phantom shouted.

All he got was a growl, and the light around the dog flared sickeningly.

“Oh, Cujo, what have they done to you?” Phantom said. “I’m sorry, boy.” He held out a hand and the ghost dog immediately lunged to bite it.

Phantom evaded the ghost dog’s teeth, and turned to the two vigilantes. “Get out of here! I need to tire him out before I can remove the infection!”

Both Tim and Damian were in unusual agreement that this situation was beyond their knowledge, and heeded Phantom. They jumped in to help the passed-out gangsters. Even Yi Xiaobo let himself be led away by the vigilantes, trembling in fear and probably shock.

Meanwhile, Phantom tried to divert the attention of the ghost dog, apparently named Cujo. He flew in tight formations near the warehouse’s roof, forcing the dog to jump into the air and chase him, jaws snapping. Tim had to force himself not to watch because there were far too many close calls for comfort. He wasn’t sure if Phantom was doing that intentionally or not.

Cujo caught sight of Red Robin helping a gangster that had fallen from one of the catwalks, and seemed about to lunge for the vigilante, until a green ectoblast hit his side.

“NO! MINE!” Phantom’s voice crackled and commanded.

Cujo whimpered, but with a shake of his head, the rage returned and the chase for Phantom resumed.

Red Robin and Robin finally exited the warehouse and made short work of tying up the unconscious gangsters remaining. Unfortunately, Lucian Ibanescu had escaped, but most of his men were accounted for. Yi Xiaobo was in bad condition, but Tim wrapped up the arm best as he could until actual medical services could arrive.

“You are injured,” Robin remarked as they finished up.

Tim looked down and realized he had forgotten about being shot; the adrenaline of the chase had somehow pushed the pain to the back of his mind. But with everything slowing down, he was beginning to realize he felt a bit faint, and when Robin carefully prodded where the bullet grazed, he hissed in pain.

A sound like a miniature explosion had both vigilantes looking up, but so far the warehouse still seemed intact.

“What is he doing to him?” Damian asked as he began to tend to Tim’s wound.

Tim put a reassuring hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Danny isn’t going to harm Cujo, he’s one of his subjects. He’ll probably just try to remove the Lazarus Pit water.”

“He can do that?” Damian asked. “There is much you have neglected to tell us about your paramour.”

“Do you have to call him that?”

“It is far preferential than the plebian term of ‘boyfriend.’”

Tim rolled his eyes and then winced when Damian tightened the wrap around his leg to staunch the bleeding. While Damian tended him, Tim turned the main frequency back online. He was immediately bombarded with questions. He and Robin took turns giving a brief report with the cacophony in the warehouse as background noise that only seemed to intensify the team’s worries.

“We are fine. Phantom is the known ghost king and will surely be able to subdue his subject without your interference,” Robin reprimanded the family as some of them offered to drop their own routes to help.

“Red Robin, you need to go back to the cave,” Dick insisted.

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s barely a scratch. Robin and I will ride back once the authorities arrive.”

Then, all the noise from the warehouse quieted entirely. Both vigilantes held their breath as they looked to the warehouse.

Tim nearly slumped in relief when he saw Phantom float out of the warehouse, a Fenton thermos in hand. Damian stood to attention immediately.

“Report,” Robin demanded.

Phantom looked at Damian and his eyes crinkled. “Aww, he’s like a mini Batman.”

Tim snorted as he struggled to his feet.

“Some decorum if you please, Phantom,” Robin bristled, but Tim could tell Damian was secretly somewhat pleased. And then the teenager swiveled on Tim. “Sit back down, imbecile. You are still injured.”

Immediately, Phantom’s attention swiveled on Tim. “You’re injured? Where?!” A low whine emanated from the ghost’s chest.

“I’m fine. A bullet barely grazed me,” Red Robin reassured.

It did not prevent Phantom from hovering – literally – and inspecting Robin’s handiwork.

“He is stable, but still requires medical attention,” Robin reported, because Damian was horrid little snitch.

“I can take him back to the Batcave. Or is there another medical facility you would prefer?”

“Take me to my Nest,” Tim insisted. Over the comms, his family erupted in protests.

“Batcave is preferred,” Damian replied. “Agent A will be far more attentive in dressing Red Robin’s injuries than if he were left alone.”

“Hey! Is anyone even listening to me?” Red Robin protested.

Phantom put a finger to Tim’s lips. Tim felt his ears begin to heat. “Hush. I knew within days of having my core inside you that you are not very good at taking care of yourself. Let me help.”

“How – ” Tim started.

“You tried to take out the core piece healing you to study against my instructions otherwise. Told me everything I needed to know.”

“Thank you, Phantom,” Robin said.

“Need a ride too? Ghostly strength means you can fly along too,” Phantom offered.

Robin wrinkled his nose. “And watch you two be gross? No thank you. Besides, I must stay to ensure these ingrates are taken into appropriate custody.”

“Wait, I can – ” Tim started.

“Nope!” And before Tim could lodge a protest, Danny had scooped him into bridal carry and began to carry Tim up into the Gotham night.

Once Tim had relaxed into Danny’s hold as they soared over Gotham’s skyline, he turned to stare at the worried expression scrunching Danny’s brow. “I really am fine. I’ve continued patrol with worse.”

“That may be, but you shouldn’t have to. As someone who constantly ignored injuries and pushed my own limits as a vigilante, I know from experience it’s not a healthy lifestyle.”

“What about the GIW tracking you? I thought you were laying low?”

Phantom stared at Tim, green eyes boring into his own. “You called me to help.”

“Help. Not spread your signature all over the city so you have to hide again!”

Phantom rolled his eyes. “First of all, muted form. Second of all, my little appearance in Amity Park diverted their attention from Gotham for a bit. Finally, you’re my injured boyfriend, why wouldn’t I help you if it’s within my power?”

Tim flushed. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger either.”

“Kind of inevitable with me,” Danny chirped. “Danger is my middle name after all.”

This time Tim rolled his eyes.

“Birdie, I’m not helpless. I’ve been dodging the GIW for years. And once we’re in the Batcave, I’ll be behind Alfred’s protections. They won’t be able to sense me.”

“Names,” Tim couldn’t help muttering.

“Right, because so many people can hear us while we overfly the Gotham skyline.” Tim was convinced lately that having a piece of Danny’s core piece inside him continued to give him low level empath abilities because he still seemed to be able to pick up on other people’s emotions better than before. And right now Tim was certain he could feel Danny’s annoyance rising.

“Who is Cujo?” Tim switched topics.

Danny hesitated for a moment before replying. “He’s my dog. Sort of. Really he’s his own dog, but he latched onto me after I helped get his squeaky toy out of the lab he was raised. Mostly he loiters around my Keep in the Infinite Realms.”

“The East Side Dragons mentioned stealing Cujo off of someone who sounded a lot like GIW.”

Danny’s aura pulsed with anger. “Those bastards!” he spat. “How did they even find Cujo? He can’t even leave the Realms unless…” Danny trailed off. And then he stopped midair, an expression of horror widening his features. A familiar pulse of guilt ate at him.

“Phantom?” Tim prompted. He tried brushing his fingers through the hair on the back of Phantom’s neck but received no response.

 “Phantom,” Tim emphasized again.

“It’s my fault,” Danny murmured. “He must have slipped through when I portaled back. I can’t believe…I should have checked…”

“Phantom,” Tim tried again, tugging some at Phantom’s hair. It hardened as if frost-covered in response, but otherwise his boyfriend seemed unaffected.

“Danny,” Tim tried. Still no response.

Tim put a hand over Phantom’s chest. Right where there seemed to be some kind of humming emanating, and Tim could somehow feel the core shard that used to be inside him thrumming in recognition. Tim would have to explore that later.

Tim pressed his hand against Phantom’s chest and tried to project his emotions of worry, apology, and reassurance to the core piece that seemed aware of Tim.

Finally, that seemed to make Phantom shudder and return Tim’s attentions. “How did you – you’re getting good at ghostly interactions, Birdie.” Phantom smiled, but his heart was definitely not in it.

“It’s not your fault,” Tim said. “You can’t blame yourself for whatever the GIW did.”

Phantom resumed flying again, the smog and brick blocks of the city beginning to give way to neighborhoods with actual horticulture. “Cujo is my subject. He got captured because I let him out. It is my fault.”

“No. Does Cujo have free will?”

“Of course.”

“Do you give him any kingly orders to stay put or to follow you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then it’s not your fault,” Tim said simply. “Even if he did get out through one of your portals. Cujo’s choices were still his own. Just like the GIW chose to be a bunch of evil bastards who wanted to experiment on a dead dog’s consciousness. Seriously, who does that?”

Phantom stared at Tim. “You’re kind of good at this reassuring thing.”

Tim flushed. “It helps I can still tell what you’re feeling. I don’t think I was ever this good at people skills before you healed me.”

“Doubtful. Brace yourself,” Danny warned as he turned them both intangible and darted down towards the Wayne Manor lawn.

Darkness surrounded them on all sides until they popped out of the earth below the ceiling of the Batcave.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Tim promised as Danny flew towards the medical bay and a waiting Alfred.

Phantom replied by dropping Tim on a medical cot. Alfred immediately began fussing. “You have been in this bed far too often, master Tim. If I had my way, I’d restrain you to the manor.”

Tim smirked. “Alfred, if you had your way, none of us would patrol Gotham’s streets again.”

Alfred sniffed imperiously, but otherwise said no more on the matter. He immediately began to work cleaning and disinfecting the wound as he prepped for stitches.

“While you’re here,” Tim said, drawing Danny’s attention away from his injured leg, “mind if I ask why you’ve been so distant this week? What happened in Amity Park?”

Danny sighed. “Family drama. Don’t worry about it.”

Tim reached out for Phantom’s hand, cool as the grave to the touch. “I’m not prying. – Well, maybe I’m prying a little – But I just want to make sure you’re okay. And…you can talk to me…if you want.”

Danny gave Tim a small smile. “Thanks, Birdie.” He kissed Tim’s forehead.

Alfred sent Tim a look that meant they’d definitely be having a conversation later, and Tim just realized he’d never told the ghostly butler he had started dating his king. That was going to be a fun talk…not.

The next few minutes the conversation drifted to lighter topics as Tim debriefed Alfred on the fight in the warehouse, followed by Danny telling stories about Cujo. It lasted until a screech of tires pulled into the cave, and Robin hopped off his bike, dashing into the Med Bay.

“Demon brat?” Tim asked, confused at Robin’s over the top concern from a mere bullet graze.

“Is Cujo okay?” Damian immediately asked. Ah, that explained it.

“I’m fine too, you know,” Tim said.

Damian scoffed. “Tt. Of course you are. I’ve learned long ago it would take far more impressive means to subdue you.”

“Was that a compliment? Felt like a compliment,” Danny murmured. Tim squeezed Danny’s hand in agreement.

“Cujo. The ghost dog. Report, Phantom,” Damian demanded.

Danny laughed. “Cujo is fine. He’s still sealed away. Hey, want to help me release him back to the Realms?”

Damian’s face betrayed nothing, but Tim knew if they could see beyond the mask, the demon brat’s eyes would probably be dilating. “Indeed. Observing the methods of ectoplasmic catch and release practices will help expand Batman’s notes on the subject.”

Tim tried not to laugh. “Just admit you want to play with the ghost dog, Damian.”

“Names in the cave,” Robin growled in response.

Danny just shook his head. “Alfred, I’ll leave Tim in your hands. Got a nice place outside we can let out a nine-foot-tall ghost dog, Robin?”

“Of course, Phantom. Follow me.”

“Hey what about me!” Tim shouted after them.

“You will stay here to rest your stitches, Red Robin,” Alfred admonished.

“Be back soon, Birdie,” Danny promised, before placing another kiss on Tim’s brow, and then leaving with a Damian who walked just a tad quicker than normal towards the cave’s exit, betraying his giddiness.

Danny followed Damian out of the Batcave into the manor proper. Danny tried not to gape too much at the surroundings as the youngest Wayne led him through his home. Sure, Danny was used to the lifestyles of rich people through Sam and Vlad, but the Waynes were clearly on a whole other level. And yet, there were still touches of personality in the immaculately decorated halls. The occasional scuff along the wall indicating some kind of altercation, the occasional personal item like a shoe or graded homework tossed on whatever piece of furniture was nearby. Even the curious note attached to a grand banister that merely said, “Dick, No,” which had been scratched out and re-written in sparkly gel pen, “Dick, Yes!”

Damian further led Danny downstairs and out some glass doors to a sprawling lawn bordered by an immaculate garden that had the feel of Alfred’s love and handiwork all over it.

“Will this suit your purposes?” Damian asked, breaking Danny from his revery.

“Huh?”

Damian sighed as if dealing with Danny tried the limits of his patience. “Is this a large enough space in which to release Cujo?”

Danny grinned. “Oh yeah, definitely. Here, stand behind me while I release him. I think I got most of the rotten ecto already, but better to be safe than sorry.”

Damian complied, standing behind Danny and watching with obvious interest as he unscrewed the lid of the Fenton thermos and a bright green light shot out, shortly followed by Cujo in his larger form.

Danny braced himself as Cujo formed, reaching out with his ghostly senses to detect any lingering rotten ectoplasm. But when Cujo formed and turned around, he was relieved to sense only the normal waves of affection and excitement whenever he saw Danny.

“Hey, boy. Feeling better?” Danny asked the ghost dog.

Cujo jumped towards Danny and shrunk down to his smaller size so by the time he tackled Danny, he was small enough to hold.

Danny giggled as Cujo lapped kisses over his face and neck.

“He is…much different than before,” Damian remarked as he stood over where Danny sat down on the grass.

“He’s pretty friendly most of the time. He’s protective, like me, so he usually only gets big and scary when people he likes are in trouble,” Danny explained. “Here, want to hold him?” Danny held out the ghost dog.

Damian’s face betrayed very little, but his emotions were screaming with excitement and adoration. Danny was happy to see Damian did everything he was supposed to, letting Cujo sniff his hand and making his stance non-threatening. Cujo quickly warmed up to Tim’s brother, and leaned in when Damian began to scratch his ghostly ears.

“I did not expect him to be so soft.”

“He’s still a dog,” Danny pointed out. “And of course, the bestest boy of the Infinite Realms!” He cooed at Cujo.

Cujo wagged his tail in acknowledgement. Meanwhile, Danny let go of the ghost dog, letting him float into Damian’s arms.

Damian’s features immediately softened, and he looked more like his actual age than the cold and grim face he usually showed. “He seems happy.”

Danny tried not to let the guilt creep back up. “Most of the time he is. He wanders the Realms with plenty of friends to give him pets, and all the blob ghosts to chase that he desires. He may not have had the best life, but I like to think he has a pretty nice afterlife.”

Damian’s eyes abruptly flickered up to Danny in an expression that seemed more guarded and serious than their conversation’s tone. “What are your intentions with my brother.”

“Oh. Wow, this is a mood shift. Uhhhh…what do you mean?”

“Drake is very obvious when he is ‘crushing.’ His obsessive behavior of you was obvious. It only lessened recently and abruptly. I assume that is when he discovered his pining was reciprocated and you two engaged in amorous activities.”

Danny blinked at the teenager. “What.”

Damian sighed down at Cujo as if asking the dog why his owner was such an idiot. “Are you or are you not ‘boyfriends’ with Drake?” He said “boyfriends” as if the very word was too infantile for him to even say.

“Uhhh…I guess? I’m not sure what he’s been telling you all.”

“You guess!? Phantom, you are doing a poor job of convincing me of your devotion to my brother. Do you not return his affections?”

“No! I mean Yes? Ugh! I do return his affections, that is.” Danny groaned. “Wait, are you trying to give me a shovel talk?”

“It is not much of a shovel talk if you are currently digging your own grave on your own.”

“Listen, this is…new, between me and Tim. But I do really like him, and you don’t have to worry, because I am definitely devoted to him. I would do anything for him.”

“Would you fell those who would seek to harm him?” Damian demanded.

“Yes,” Danny replied without hesitation.

Damian stared at Danny some more. It was incredibly unnerving, but Danny had had a lot of practice with intense stare downs with the Observants.

“I will refrain from passing judgement at this time, but let it be known I will be observing you Phantom. And should you hurt Drake, there is nothing that will safe you from the wrath of this family.”

Danny gave Damian a small smile. “Normally I’d think that an idle threat, but your family is terrifying.”

Damian preened, petting Cujo’s belly, who was comfortably sprawled in Damian’s lap.

Danny probably should go ahead and return Cujo to the Realms. However, watching Damian stroke him with such clear care, he figured a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Chapter Text

“Alright, what about turning others intangible? Can you do that?” Tim asked Alfred a couple days later as they both sat for afternoon tea. It was becoming a ritual for them both to take afternoon tea when their busy schedules permitted because Tim inevitably had more questions about ghosts. And Alfred bore the casual interrogations well. Tim thought secretly Alfred was pleased to finally have someone to talk to who was in on his secret, because there wasn’t much incentive to continue suffering through Tim’s questioning.

Alfred took a sip of tea. “I can, though it exerts considerable power. I suspect High King Phantom is much more adept at the skill.”

Tim nodded, remembering their first “date night” when Danny pulled him through floors and walls. “That’s why I’m asking. Phantom just seems over-powered in general, and I need to get a sense of what powerset normal ghosts have. Pulling a straight answer from Danny is like pulling shrapnel from a shotgun wound.”

Alfred wrinkled his nose at the violent metaphor, but they both knew was an accurate one. “Speaking of, do not think I didn’t notice High King Phantom’s familiarity with you the other night. Not to mention his trace on you has changed.”

Tim only barely managed not to spit out his tea. Barely. “Trace on me?”

Alfred tutted. “With all you’ve learned about ghosts thus far, I would assume you know that ghosts are usually social creatures who develop Fraids? That leaves an ectoplasmic trace.”

Tim fiddled with his spoon. “I know I am part of his Fraid. I just didn’t know that it would somehow broadcast to all other ghosts that we are dating now.”

“Thank you for confirming my hunch, Master Tim.” Alfred smiled over the rim of his cup.

Tim glared at the butler. “You made up that nonsense about traces, didn’t you?”

“On the contrary, I did not. You implied information about traces. I can only sense the extent to which you mean to him from the ectoplasmic echoes on you. As it has increased to a positive degree, I assume you had entered a relationship but could not definitively confirm it.”

Tim sighed and typed the new knowledge into his phone. His ongoing notes about ghosts would be enough to make a book.

Alfred set down his cup. “Please use caution, Master Tim. While Master Danny seems a noble and bright young man, he is still a powerful entity with many of his own enemies. Your relationship will never be normal.”

Tim took a sip of tea to think of an appropriate reply as he dissected Alfred’s words. “Perhaps, but it’s not like normal was ever in the cards for me, was it?”

Alfred sighed. “You have had a difficult life, Master Tim. I only hope that this relationship will not give you further strife. Please think carefully before you commit to it.”

“It’s still new, but don’t worry, I will,” Tim promised. “What about you? Already calling him Master Danny? You only call family by that title.” Tim smirked.

Alfred just raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “With your history, Danny will likely be part of this family even if you do terminate your relationship.”

Tim’s smirk fell of his face. Unfortunately, Alfred was right. Tim more or less had decent friendships with all of his exes. And Steph really was family these days.

“Ouch, Alfie. That was honest, but brutal,” Jason remarked as he stalked into the kitchen towards the fridge where he immediately began to look for something.

Alfred hummed and Tim could pick on a low thrum of chagrin at Tim’s undead brother. “A pleasure to see you too, Master Jason. We haven’t at all been worried by your lack of communication following your kidnapping by government nutcases, and then a jaunt to another dimension.”

Jason flinched at Alfred’s dry condemnations. “Sorry, Alfie. I didn’t mean to ghost you, I just didn’t want Bats and Birds all up in my business.”

“I don’t know what else you expected when you went off-world for a week to be checked out by an unknown doctor,” Tim reasoned. “You should have someone check you over.”

“Stay out of it, baby bird,” Jason said, pointing a carrot at him for emphasis. “And what’s this I hear about you dating Danny?”

Tim flushed. “It’s new. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Uh-huh. And you know…” Jason waved his hand ambiguously.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know he’s also Phantom.”

“Uh-huh. And who else knows?”

“None of your concern,” Tim replied, putting on his Drake smile that he graced board-members with to get them to stop talking.

Jason was unaffected, rolling his eyes and turning back to the fridge. “So not the rest of the family then.”

Alfred looked over Jason now that he had turned back to the fridge, radiating concern. As aloof as Alfred liked to appear, Tim was getting a glimpse of the rather emotional ghost underneath the façade, who worried anytime his family was out of reach and out of contact.

Tim wanted to ask Alfred about these empathic abilities that seemed like they were no longer going away, but instead had leveled off as a low-level sense that could pick up on dominant emotions. However, Jason still didn’t know about Alfred, which made it difficult for Tim to ask what he wanted and receive a clear answer. Perhaps Alfred needed some gentle encouragement.

“Did you talk with Bruce yet?” Tim asked Alfred.

Alfred’s eyes glared, and Tim thought he saw a dark red glow of warning.

“Talk about what?” Jason asked as he began to assemble a hummus and vegetable wrap.

“Master Bruce has been indisposed in the Watchtower of late. There has not been a good opportunity,” Alfred replied, ignoring Jason.

“And before that you had other excuses. You know he’d drop everything and come back if you said it was urgent,” Tim said.

“As it is not urgent, I feel no compulsion to guilt-trip Master Bruce back to the manor.”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“What are you two talking about?” Jason probed.

“Maybe if you actually stayed up to date on this family instead of ignoring us all the time, you’d know,” Tim said defensively.

Tim’s phone dinged with a new text message. His heart leapt when he saw it was Danny.

Jason shrugged. “Fine then, don’t tell me.”

Tim looked over the text message and found himself agreeing before he could overthink Danny’s invitation to stay the night for emotional support. Tim nearly asked why, until he remembered that the first article on the Anti-Ecto Acts would be published tomorrow morning.

“First article is going up tomorrow,” Tim reminded Alfred and Jason.

“First article for what?” Jason asked.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Seriously?! Check your messages, dumbass. Clark and Lois are spear-heading the Justice League’s plan to build up public support against the GIW and Anti-Ecto Acts.”

“Swear jar, Master Tim,” Alfred chastened.

Tim waved a hand, “I’ll drop something in when I leave.”

Jason snorted. “Is a news article such a good idea? People can be fickle. What if this evokes the wrong reaction?”

Tim shook his head. “Knowledge is power. The GIW has only gotten away with what they have so far because no one knows. The average citizen doesn’t want to see their dead grandparents strapped to a dissection table.”

“Fair. Pretty sure I’d commit war crimes if someone tried to disrupt Alfred’s peace after death.”

Tim’s eyes flickered over to Alfred who was still and quiet.

“Alfred’s not dead,” Tim pointed out. Technically true, right? If he was never alive in the first place, he wouldn’t be able to die. He’d ask, but he didn’t need to anger Alfred any further by dropping obvious clues for the son of a detective. “And you already commit war crimes.”

“Well, if he were, I’d be pissed. And killing the irredeemable scum of Gotham is not a war crime, Timbit. It’s just good, old-fashioned homicide.”

And Tim was not about to stick around to argue the semantics of murder with Jason. That was a sure way to get the Pit Rage to flare. “Whatever. We’ll talk again soon, Alfred. Stop putting off talking to Bruce. Jason, please let Alfred check you over after visiting a different plane of existence.”

“And where are you going, Master Tim?” Alfred inquired.

Tim smiled. “Date with Danny. I think he’s anxious about the article. Tell Demon Spawn he can cover my patrol.”

Jason flipped Tim off. “Tell him yourself.”

“Please refrain from crude gestures in my kitchen,” Alfred chastised. “Have fun, Master Tim. Feel free to take some of this morning’s cookies for your date.”

“Thanks, Alfred!”

As Tim left, he overheard Jason ask Alfred, “so what’s the tea between you and Bruce?”

“Not worth gossiping about, I assure you,” Alfred replied.

Tim suppressed a sigh. Jason would be the perfect person for Alfred to confide in. They were both technically ectoplasmic entities. And maybe Jason would be able to ask Alfred when he had questions rather than relying solely on Danny. Or even just talk to someone who might understand. This family, honestly…

Vlad Masters liked his habits. He liked waking up every morning at 6:30 am exactly, followed by starting the coffee machine. Then, he stepped into the shower while he waited for the pot to brew. Once his morning beauty routine was complete, from styling his hair to adorning one of his suits (or leisurely attire on the weekends) he would adjourn to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee flavored with his personal stash of ectoplasm harvested from his portal to the Infinite Realms. And as he sat down with his coffee, he would look through the news to get a feel for the day. And in many cases, preen over whatever recent investment or ploy he’d concocted to keep DalvCo prosperous. Occasionally he would be hit with an unwelcome surprise. Very much like this particular morning.

When Vlad opened his tablet to the top stories of the day, he spit out his coffee in surprise, nearly choking. (Nevermind he was half-dead and didn’t actually need to breathe as much as he should, but living instincts were hard to break.) From the Metropolis News, one article by Lois Lane and Clark Kent had the halfa reaching for his phone, as the headline shouted at him: Ghosts Among Us: How the US Government’s Hidden War Against the Dead Affects Us All.

Vlad scrolled through his contacts and smashed the call button once he found the person he was looking for. Predictably, they didn’t pick up. Vlad tried again. And again. On the third time, he left a message.

“Daniel, Call me immediately,” Vlad hissed into the phone, hating how his voice buzzed with ghost speak at the end. Ever since the accident that turned Vlad into a halfa, the transition into a full ghost was an incomplete and gradual one. Eventually, Vlad knew he would wake up and only Plasmius would remain. But until then, Vlad was taking care to hold tight to his living instincts. Especially once the yeti doctors had revealed to him last year that his condition was deteriorating the more he used his ghost powers. Plasmius was effectively retired for now while Vlad hoped to make the most of his life remaining.

Vlad read through the article quickly, surprised by the rather favorable view it took on ectoplasmic entities. Yes, this had young Daniel’s fingers all over it.  

Vlad’s cellphone rang with the horrid ringtone Daniel’s friend, Tucker Foley, had locked his phone settings to three weeks ago. His secretary, Wanda, was calling.

“Mr. Masters, I have three different news agencies calling to ask about some paper you wrote in college and Dalv Co’s foray into ectoplasmic energy. How would you like them handled?” Wanda greeted, all business. It was part of what Vlad liked best about having her as a secretary.

“Which agencies?” Vlad asked.

“Metropolis News, National Network, and Gotham Gazette. Oh, and looks like Star News is calling now too. Do you know what this is about, sir?”

Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose. A heads up about this article really would have been helpful. Of course Daniel had to continue being difficult despite their truce. “A controversial headline out of Metropolis News is the likely cause. For now, hold all calls from media outlets. If necessary, provide a statement of how my previous college work has no bearing on the present trajectory of DalvCo and our work in ectoplasmic energy is purely in the research stage.” It wasn’t, but there was nothing in the official books that would prove otherwise. And if something leaked, well, a little overshadowing never hurt anyone.  

Vlad could hear typing in the background. “Mr. Masters, this article…if this is what think it’s about, Dalv Co. could be in a very profitable position right now. If we insert ourselves as experts in ectoplasm for our research into alternative – ”

“No,” Vlad said, perhaps a little too quickly and sharply. He softened his tone to reassure his secretary. No need to have her getting suspicious. He’d lost too many secretaries that way. “No, we need to treat this carefully. Wait to see which way public opinion will lean.”

Wanda was silent on the other end. Vlad knew she disagreed, but Wanda had proven thus far to be a pinnacle of professionalism. This time was no different. “Very well, sir. Have a good morning.”

Vlad hung up and sighed. Unfortunately, his morning had just turned into an absolute terror of a headache. He tried calling Daniel again. No response.

Vlad scowled. Fine, if Daniel wished to be difficult, then Vlad would be equally petty about this. He texted Wanda stating he needed immediate transportation to Gotham. It seemed he and young Daniel were due to catch up.

Chapter Text

Commander Alpha sat behind his desk behind his usual three screens. On the right one he had the schematic from a pilfered Fenton design, the center had an Excel sheet with testing data compiled from a Gotham office. The left and final one – and the only one Commander Alpha was currently paying attention to – had a game of Tetris playing.

A knock on the door, and the game was paused and minimized in seconds. “Come in,” Commander Alpha barked.

Operative S, a relatively new recruit and Commander Alpha’s current secretary, darted inside. “Commander, you need to see this.”

“What is it?” Alpha asked, as Operative S handed him a tablet.

“New article from Metropolis News. It’s…it’s bad, sir.”

Commander Alpha appreciated the warning, but nothing could fully diminish the shock of a headline explicitly condemning the Anti-Ecto Acts. He skimmed through the article, blood pressure rising with every sentence.

“This is outrageous! The ignorant fools! They have no idea of the importance of the work we’ve been doing here. The threat these…these…these beasts have to our world.”

Operative S flinched from the virtriol in Commander Alpha’s words. Poor lad, still too green to understand the insidious nature of ectoplasm. He’d learn. “I-is there anything you need from me, sir?”

“Summon the on-base senior agents for an emergency meeting at 0900 hours. These ectoplasmic sympathizers have surprised us today, but we won’t let the spooks deceive the public. The fate of this country – no, the world – depends on us.”

“Yes, sir,” Operative S replied before scurrying out the door.

Commander Alpha drew up files for an operation he didn’t think he’d ever have to use. The Ghost Investigation Ward operated best without public knowledge and interference. But today they were being frog-marched into the light. However, the battle wasn’t lost yet. They would show everyone the threat that ectoplasmic organisms posed. Even if it meant speeding up timelines on another project.

“Operative S!” Commander Alpha barked.

The secretary popped his head back through the door. “Yessir?”

“One more thing, schedule a flight to Gotham for this afternoon, and inform Doctors Z and Crane. We’ll be pushing up the timeline on Operation Lyssa.”

Tim, Tucker, and Danny were sitting at foldable card table, eating breakfast as Danny and Tucker’s cellphone seemed to ring constantly. Many from Amity Park, likely due to Tucker punching a hole in the GIW’s internet firewalls specifically for Metropolis News to get through today. Danny had already talked to his parents, Danielle, a friend named Valerie, and an old high school English teacher with a mouthy kid named Maeve in the background offering commentary. And the calls and texts kept coming.

Danny bore all the questions and comments admirably despite having very little sleep the night before. The three of them had spent most of the night playing video games while waiting for the article to drop. Tucker had eventually tapped out to go “prep Amity” for the article’s release, which Tim assumed meant back-hacking the locals’ tech so they’d look for the article, but not tip off the GIW to the potential leak.

Tim and Danny had spent the subsequent hours talking. They hit heavier topics like their childhood trauma, and also rambled for hours over space technology. Danny was particularly fascinated about WE’s ventures into space travel (originally a front for Batman to build the Justice League’s Watchtower satellite, but had become a legitimate branch of the organization). Tim already fantasized about employing Danny and his engineering genius in WE Aerospace’s Research & Development department.

They’d even made out some on Danny and Tucker’s old couch that had probably been handed down from several previous college students from the rips and lumps. Nothing too steamy, but more for a sense of comfort and distraction from Danny’s obvious anxiety.

As Tim had kissed softly down his neck, Danny asked breathily, “What if it goes wrong and everyone sides with the GIW? What if the Acts stay?”

Tim had paused to look Danny in the eyes when he replied, “They won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

Tim hummed to gather his thoughts. “Not for certain, no. But these Acts were hidden in agricultural reform, and the GIW continues to obfuscate their activities. They know the general public won’t support them. And the entire Justice League is against them. If nothing else, their support can turn the tides, just like they garnered support for Metas and helped stimy the stigma against aliens.  You’ll see.”

Danny nodded, but he hadn’t seemed convinced as he brought Tim in for another kiss. Tim savored it for a moment before breaking away. “That’s not it. What else is bothering you?”

Danny deflected by leaning towards Tim again. “Nothing,” he murmured.

But Tim could feel something sour spike in the hazy aura of attraction enveloping them. Not to mention Danny was exhibiting classic signs of avoidance.

“Danny,” Tim pressed, though it was very hard to keep his stern tone from devolving into a moan as Danny licked his neck.

“It really is nothing,” Danny murmured. “Just my own insecurities.”

“What – ” Tim’s breath hitched as Danny’s fangs scraped oh so gently on his collarbone. “What insecurities?”

Danny stopped and pulled away. “Are you seriously asking about my insecurities right now?”

“You’re anxious, and I just want to help,” Tim explained.

Danny’s eyes seemed to glow green as if bristling in defense. Tim had to clench his muscles to force himself not to flinch as bad memories from Pit-enhanced individuals haunted him.

The tension left Danny abruptly. “I’m sorry. Just stuff that happened in Amity has me doubting myself.”

Tim combed his hands through Danny’s hair. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

Danny smirked. “Really? The must-know-everything-about-everyone Red Robin would be fine with that?”

Tim had rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m curious, yes. But I also would be such a hypocrite if I was bothered by you keeping secrets. I still don’t think anyone else in the family besides Alfred knows I don’t have a spleen.”

“You don’t have a spleen?!” Danny exclaimed.

“Don’t deflect.”

“This is definitely deflection worthy. What the fuck, Tim?”

“You remember me telling you about my yearlong breakdown field trip?”

Danny nodded.

“Well, long story short, I got stabbed by a spider-themed assassin and the creepy immortal guy who leads a rival assassin cult had to cut out my spleen. I’m pretty sure he keeps it in a jar somewhere.”

Danny scowled. “I’m so hunting down this Ra’s guy and his rotten ectoplasm pools once summer rolls around.”

“I’ll join you. I want to see the look on his face.” Tim grinned.

“And get your spleen back?”

“And get my spleen back.”

Danny grinned. “It’s a date.”

Tim returned the smile, and continued to pet Danny’s hair. “Now, what is actually troubling you, oh mighty King of the Infinite Realms.”

Danny sighed. “Mostly that.”

Tim remained silent, letting Danny talk in his own time.

“I think Batman knows Phantom is me. We encountered my parents in Amity Park, and…well, my parents are always causing me problems, so that’s nothing new. But the Justice League saw me as some kid that needed protecting.”

“Well, didn’t you show up as a teenager?”

“Not the point. How is Phantom supposed to be in any way legitimate to the rest of the world if even the Justice League treats me like a child? How am I going to protect my people if no one will take me seriously?”

Tim frowned. “Okay, first of all, I really want to interrogate you more on Batman knowing your civilian ID, but I know this isn’t the time. Two, your normal Phantom form is not a teenager, it’s a really hot, mildly eldritch badass. I doubt you plan to debut to the world as a twiggy teenager. And three, you don’t just look it, you are a badass. And even if the world doesn’t see that at first, they will by the time we’re through with them.”

“We?”

Tim leaned in to press a brief kiss on Danny’s lips. “Of course. You don’t think you’re alone in this, do you? You have me, you have your friends, and you have the Justice League behind you. And I don’t know much about ghosts, but the ones I’ve met seem awfully fond of you, so I assume they have your back too.”

Danny had snuggled into Tim’s neck, flushing under the compliments. “Thank you, Birdie.”

Tim felt his own cheeks warm at the softness in Danny’s voice as his breath tickled his neck. “Anytime.”

Now it was morning, and Danny seemed more relaxed than last night. Though Tim was certain they also both looked sleep-deprived.

“Oh this line was definitely from Danielle. Listen to this, ‘ an expert in the field told this reporter ecto-entities may be of a substance not of this world, but there are plenty who call Earth their home nonetheless. And being formed here, they have the same right to it as anyone living born here,” Tucker read out from the article.

“Good for her,” Tim remarked. “I can’t wait to read the article with her interview.”

Danny’s phone rang again. He checked the caller ID briefly before lying the phone facedown on the table. “Ugh, Vlad,” he groaned.

Tim recalled the name from his research into eco-entities. “Vlad? Vladimir Masters?”

“Yeah, that’s the fruitloop,” Danny replied, followed by a yawn that accentuated his slightly fanged teeth very well. Adorable.

“What does he want?” Tucker asked.

“Probably wants to yell at me about the article.”

Tucker snickered. “Yeah, he’s probably pissed. Especially since you didn’t warn him this was coming. Good luck with that.”

The phone rang again. Danny didn’t even bother picking it up.

“Why is the CEO of Vlad Co interested in the Anti-Ecto Acts? Didn’t he step away from ecto-science after college? And why is he an ex-nemesis?” Tim questioned.

Danny snorted. “The fruitloop wants you to think he’s done with ecto-studies, but he’s been doing shady stuff with ectoplasm longer than I’ve known him. And he’s an ex-nemesis because I used to foil most of his plots. Sticking his stupid face in stuff he doesn’t understand. He’s technically the reason I became King of the Infinite Realms. Cleaning up one of his messes.”

“That’s…I feel like I should have looked a lot deeper into this guy.”

Tucker snorted. “Good luck. He’s more squirrely than the GIW. And the cheesehead only keeps paper copies of his most secretive stuff.”

“I have so many questions,” Tim remarked.

The phone rang again, Danny and Tucker groaning. But once that call dropped, it was shortly followed by Tucker’s phone ringing. “Fuck!” Tucker exclaimed. “I think Sam was calling that last time.”

“Shit!” Danny and Tucker scrambled to answer.

“Hi Sam! We thought you were Vlad!” Danny greeted.

“A reasonable excuse to avoid a phonecall, except for the fact you have caller ID!” Sam greeted.

“Well, at least I answered your call,” Tucker said smugly, earning him a shove from Danny.

“Idiots, both of you.”

“Yeah, but we’re your idiots,” Danny said fondly. Tim tuned out the rest of the conversation as they began their own conversation on the article. Sam simultaneously praised and crucified the article, while Tucker and Danny either agreed or argued her points. Tim pulled out his own phone. He had some digging to do on Vladimir Masters.

Jasmine Fenton finally got off the phone with her parents after talking with them for the past two hours. It was the longest conversation she’d had with them since leaving home. And it was…enlightening to say the least. She’d been expecting the Metropolis News article having been warned by Danny, and given a play by play of Dani’s interview in person. What she had not been expecting was her parents fretting over the visit Phantom had made to Amity Park a few days ago with Justice Leaguers in tow. How could Danny not have told her that he saw their parents? He told her extensively about every interaction with their parents since their relationship was still weird after the Phantom reveal. Add in a bunch of Leaguers in over their heads in Amity Park and Jazz knew the resulting conversation must have been awkward at best and traumatizing at most.

Jazz consulted her calendar, nearly color-coded with her classes, major due dates, and other associated clubs and volunteer work. It would be a brief trip, but she was due to visit to her little brother. And there was a relatively free weekend at the end of the month if she wrapped up a paper early and cancelled her volunteer shift at the hospital.

“Hey, isn’t Amity Park where you grew up?” Jazz’s roommate asked, scrolling through her phone.

“Yep,” Jazz replied absently.

“Huh. Is it really haunted?”

Jazz repressed a sigh. She’d probably be fielding questions like this all day. “The most haunted, according to our welcome sign.”

“Wicked. Hey, know any ghosts?”

Jazz didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. “I’ve got to go. See you tonight.” She grabbed her bag and headed out the door. Interrogating her brother and checking in on his mental health could wait until she had more than twenty minutes before class.

A ghostly presence snuck up next to Jazz as she climbed into her car. The familiar pulse of mischief and the unmistakable sense of “Fraid” kept Jazz from pulling out the Fenton anti-ghost mist, another invention of her parents that acted like ghostly mace.

“Hi Dani,” Jazz said to the invisible presence.

In the passenger seat, Dani in ghost form rippled into the visible spectrum with a grin. “Did ya see? Did ya see?! First article is out. Lois says my interview will be out in a few days.”

Jazz ruffled the young ghost’s hair. “It was great, gremlin. I can’t wait for the interview article. Seatbelt if you’re riding with me.”

Dani groaned, but clipped the buckle anyway. “What does it matter? I’m already dead.”

“For my peace of mind.” Jazz pulled out of her parking spot and headed for campus.

Dani slumped in her seat, chewing on the ends of her hoodie strings. “Think it will change things? For the better?”

“You know, I think they will. Because at least now someone is listening.”

“Yeah…Danny must be a nervous wreck today.”

Alfred stood in the Batcave awaiting Master Bruce’s return to Gotham. Batman had spent many days in the Watchtower following the Justice League’s visit to Amity Park. The few times he had returned to the manor, guilt and determination radiated off him in waves. Clearly something had happened with King Phantom that his ward regretted.

But with Mr. Kent and Mrs. Lane’s article finally publishing, Alfred hoped Bruce would be in a less unstable mood and more amenable to talk. It had been far too long since just the two of them had sat for tea and pastries. A situation not helped by Alfred’s procrastination and avoidance.

The Zeta Tube hummed and shone with light from an incoming traveler.

“Recognized B-01,” the computer chimed as Batman in his dark caped grandeur emerged from the tube.

“Welcome home, Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted.

Batman grunted in greeting and Alfred despaired as he felt the all too familiar feelings of determination and single-mindedness wafting off Gotham’s dark knight.

Alfred steeled himself. “I do hope you have been taking adequate breaks while hiding away in your space station,” he said pointedly.

Batman looked over at Alfred through whited out lenses that made his expression impossible to read under the cowl. Thankfully Alfred was a ghost and Bruce’s emotions were an adequate conveyor of Bruce’s guilt.

Alfred clucked with disappointment. “There are leftovers upstairs from dinner. And I daresay Masters Duke and Damian would benefit from your presence after many days of absence.” Perhaps Alfred was being more blunt than usual, but he didn’t quite have the patience today to chip away at Bruce’s stubbornness, taking more of a brute forced approach.

“The article published today,” Bruce said, perhaps as some sort of excuse, but it was a weak one.

“And so far the population has responded mostly positively.” After all, the issue directly affected Alfred. Of course he was following the story with interest as it spread through social media and other news sites. And even if it didn’t affect him, it affected at least one of his grandkids, so all the more reason to pay attention. “Meaning you have ample opportunity to engage with the family you have been neglecting.”

Not a lie either. Damian had finished a new painting a few days ago that Bruce had yet to see and Alfred could see the lack of regard affecting the young master.

Bruce sighed as he took off his cowl. “I have to prepare a response from Wayne Enterprises. I want WE at the forefront of any new research into ectoplasm and leading the charge against the Acts.”

Alfred had always admired how Bruce chose to combat the darkness of Gotham both in the cape and outside of it. And he felt his resolve weaken some in the face of Bruce’s earnestness now. But why did these matters always seem to come between Bruce and his family? “Lucius is more than capable of handling it,” he argued.

“Not if I don’t give him the resources he needs,” Bruce countered.

Alfred sighed, already caving to his ward’s demands. “Very well. But I will expect you for breakfast in the morning,” he bargained. “And check in on your children or I will resort to drastic measures.”

Bruce smiled slightly that always brought Alred back to the days of Bruce as a teenager, apologizing in advance for the grey hairs he would be giving his butler and caretaker. “I promise, Alfred.”

Alfred patted his son on the shoulder and then headed back for the elevator. He tried not to swell on the emotions swirling in his core that felt like time was running out.

Eye-saac sighed happily as he made a peanut butter and ectoplasm sandwich in John Constantine’s kitchen. He plated it and set it aside before making a second sandwich (without the ectoplasm this time) for the warlock currently passed out on the couch, coat still smoking slightly from a job that had almost gone wrong.

It had been a difficult case, so, when they returned to Constantine’s apartment and the magician had passed out on the couch, Eye-saac had taken the initiative to procure several jars of peanut butter and loaves of bread. Eye-saac had been doing research and it took a lot of things to keep living beings functioning. So far Eye-saac’s checklist of keeping Uncle Johnny alive was going swimmingly. Uncle Johnny was already sleeping, and Eye-saac had placed some water at the table beside him for when he awoke. And now he would have food too!

“Fuck!” Constantine shouted from the other room.

Eye-saac sighed. Constantine was definitely not sleeping the full eight hours prescribed by Eye-saac’s research. He might have to end up resorting to more extreme methods if Uncle Johnny’s bad habits kept up. It was hard keeping this magician alive.

Eye-saac floated into the living room with two plates of sandwiches.

“Good afternoon, Uncle Johnny! Here! I made breakfast!” Eye-saac chirped. He juggled the plates for a moment as he tried to remember which sandwich contained ectoplasm before handing on to Constantine.

Constantine rolled over to squint at the sandwich. “Where did you get that?”

“I made it!”

“I don’t have peanut butter. Or bread.”

“I acquired some!” Eye-saac said. “You need sustenance.”

“I need ibuprofen.”

Eye-saac frowned at the still unclaimed sandwich. “Is that a special breakfast food? Lila said peanut butter was good for everything.” Lila being a human child Eye-saac and Constantine had helped exorcise a low-level demon from a couple days ago. Uncle Johnny had been so clever when tricking the demon. And Eye-saac had gotten to help! Admittedly, maybe he shouldn’t have immediately assumed that Constantine was going to offer his soul (tricky warlock!) but everything still ended fine. Lila had introduced Eye-saac to the wonders of peanut butter as thanks.

“Lila is five years old. Of course she said peanut butter was a well-balanced meal.”

Eye-saac sighed. He should have conducted more research rather than assume peanut butter was for all stages of human development. Why did living things have to be so complicated? All ghosts needed was ectoplasm and to complete their obsession. Only two things! And they didn’t have to worry about getting too much of either. Apparently too much sleep, food, and water was just as bad for humans as too little. So frustrating!

“Sorry, Uncle Johnny. I’ll try and find you the ibee…ibuuproffing…no, ibupro – ”

“Ibuprofen, ghostling.” Constantine looked at Eye-saac and the eyelet was surprised to feel a spasm of guilt wafting off him. Then a familiar curl of fondness that had become more frequent the longer Eye-saac stayed. “Hand over the sandwich, squirt.”

Eye-saac beamed. “So you can eat it? It won’t poison you?”

“Nah. More sugar than I should have, but it won’t be diabetes that kills me.”

Eye-saac handed over the plate happily and then floated to sit next to Constantine on the couch with own sandwich. “Why did you wake up, Uncle Johnny? You are five hours short of your daily allotment of sleep.”

“And I told you to stop tracking my sleep, eyeball.” Constantine handed over his phone that Eye-saac had to be very careful about handling. Uncle Johnny had already had to toss two of his burners because of Eye-saac’s ectoplasm corrupting the electricity.

On the phone an article about this dimension’s Anti-Ecto Acts was on screen. Eye-saac read briefly through it, relieved that it did not agree with the stupid laws that put King Phantom and his people in danger. “Isn’t this good?” Eye-saac asked. “The observant elders are always telling King Phantom that public perception is very important. And this will make many positive perceptions.”

“The best case scenario, ghostling, is if no one living knew about the Infinite Realms at all. The Justice League is doing their best with the tools at their disposal. But the US government shouldn’t have touched ectoplasm with a meterstick. So now the Justice League is doing damage control. Captain Marvel already confirmed he’ll be doing an interview, and I know Bats is going to let his civilian persona drum up some lobbyists. But this article is still going to cause a shitstorm, mark my words.”

Eye-saac hummed as he absorbed some of the sandwich. “Perhaps,” he finally replied after thinking about. “But better to have a shitstorm than letting the shit sit around and End us all.”

Amusement wafted off of Constantine, echoed by a small smile twitching at his lips. “Good point, eyeball. But I think I need to teach you some more about extended metaphors.”

Eye-saac’s core vibrated with excitement. A lesson from the demon-irritant that was the Laughing Magician? The other eyelets were going to be soooo jealous.

 Tim watched as Danny worried at his lip and stared at his phone. He could feel the floor vibrating from where his boyfriend’s knee was shaking under the café table. “Maybe you should put the phone down for a bit. You’re driving yourself crazy,” Tim pointed out. He’d absconded them both one of Tim’s favorite coffee shops so Danny could get a break. But it didn’t seem to be doing much to help.

“I don’t want to hear it from you, hypocrite. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you stalking Vlad most of the day,” Danny countered.

Tim took a sip of his heavily caffeinated beverage to hide the twitch of his lips. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Danny rolled his eyes, and resumed scrolling through social media. “I can’t get a good read on the situation. One post blatantly condemns the US government for ever letting such a vile piece of legislation pass while another person screams about ghosts as sleeper agents just waiting to take over the world.”

“Both Tucker and Oracle have been monitoring the situation and public opinion is leaning in your favor.” Which was truthful. But every story had two sides, and any push for change usually had a counter force pushing the opposite direction. And unfortunately, Danny seemed to get stuck on the worst of it. Extremist fearmongers shouted into the void about an invasion from the legions of the Dead, while more moderate protesters complained about Metropolis News over-sensationalizing the issue. Some people even proclaimed the whole thing a hoax, that ghosts didn’t exist, therefore the whole argument was pointless.

Danny finally put down the phone and ran his hands through his hair. “I hate this,” he hissed. “All this waiting. I just want to punch something.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “I think it’s time I show you my Nest.”

Danny snorted out a strangled laugh. “Excuse me? Are you an actual bird, Birdie?”

Tim shrugged. “If Batman can have a Batcave, then a Robin can have a nest. A Nest equipped with a state-of-the-art training system.” He waggled his eyebrows in enticement.

Danny snickered, but soon sobered. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but the odds are kind of stacked against you. I’m OP as hell.”

“I’ve dealt with worse than you, ghost boy. Come on.” Tim stood and held out a hand for Danny to take.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And if you’re still worried about it, we can call Jason to beat you up instead.”

Danny snorted. “That’s almost worse. He’s like a baby.”

Tim laughed as he dragged Danny out of the coffee shop. It took a certain amount of crazy to call Red Hood, infamous Gotham crimelord stacked like a pallet of bricks, a baby.

However, as the two of them began to walk down the sidewalk back towards Tim’s apartment, Danny jolted to a stop as a voice in front of them purred, “Hello, Daniel.”

Tim stared at the source of the voice and it didn’t take him long to identify the face as he’d been staring at it through his research most of the day: Vladimir Masters. He didn’t look as good as most of pictures betrayed, more wrinkles and thinner hair. But he was still dressed immaculately in a pressed suit, and his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

“Hello, Fruitloop,” Danny sneered. “What in the Ancients’ names are you doing in Gotham?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m doing here. Or have you forgotten our little…agreement.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Did you even read the article? Nothing in it violated your terms.” And Tim was invested now. What agreement? Why would Danny Fenton and Vlad Masters even need an agreement in the first place?

Vlad sneered. “Exposing the Infinite Realms to the general public is an incredibly reckless move, even for you. How did you even find a reporter to take your story?”

“Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere other than the middle of the street,” Tim suggested. Oracle wasn’t the only one with eyes and ears in this city.

Vlad Masters turned icy blue eyes on Tim for the first time in the conversation. “And you are?” His eyes flickered down to where Tim and Danny were holding hands and his sneer deepened.

Thankfully Tim was holding Danny’s hand with his left, meaning he could put on his business smile and hold out his right hand to shake as he said, “Tim Drake-Wayne.”

“My boyfriend,” Danny tacked on smugly.

Vlad shook Tim’s hand more from deeply ingrained instinct than any focus on the man in question. He was too busy gaping at Danny.

“How ever did you manage to meet a Wayne, let alone date one?!”

“Well, Vladdy, when one goes around sharing core pieces to save someone in terminal danger, one can’t help becoming on friendly terms.”

Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought your idiocy could stoop no lower. So I assume he knows.”

“And the rest of Gotham will too if you both keep talking about this in the middle of the street,” Tim remarked. Honestly, he would have at least expected the somewhat shady businessman to understand the need for discretion.

It took some more cajoling, but eventually Tim managed to usher Danny and Vlad Masters to one of the family’s safehouses. His apartment was closer, but Tim didn’t want an unknown like Vlad Masters anywhere near his personal space. It helped that the pair wouldn’t stop arguing the entire way, which made leading them around town rather easy.

“I cannot believe you’re blaming me for this! I never even talked to the reporters. It was all Dani!”

“She likely would not have even considered doing so if not for your influence.”

“Hey! She gets the chaos gremlin from you.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “For the last time, she is not in any way biologically mine.”

“Your test tubes, ergo, you take responsibility.”

“I’m already paying her trust fund, Daniel, what more do you want?”

Tim whistled to stop the argument before it could devolve any further. “Alright. This location is secure. Now, I want answers.”

“Why is your boyfriend still here?” Vlad asked. “He can’t be trusted.”

“Well I certainly trust him more than I trust you.”  

“Daniel,” Vlad hissed.

“Vladdy,” Danny hissed back, his eyes flashing green. And oh shit, Vlad’s eyes were solid red and glowing now too.

“So, how long has Vladimir Masters been a ghost?” Tim asked.

Vlad bared his teeth at Danny. “You told him?!”

“I didn’t say anything about you. My boyfriend is just a genius.” Danny added smugly, “And your eyes are glowing, Plasmius.”

Vlad leaned back, forcing himself to relax in a similar way to Danny when he was trying to avoid letting too much of his ghostly aura shine through. His eyes returned to their normal icy blue. “You know I’ve retired that name.”

“Retired? More like hiding from it.”

“I don’t want to hear anything from you, Phantom. It’s not like your own ectoplasm is slowly killing you.”

“Oh you do not want to go comparing traumas, Vlad. That’s a fight you’re gonna lose.”

And now the two ghosts were back to snarling at one another. Tim gave up trying to calm them down and returned to his research. It was a safehouse, so he wasn’t particularly worried if Danny and Vlad trashed the place in an impromptu brawl.

Tim started with the new name he’d heard Danny use to address Masters. “Plasmius” sounded familiar, and after consulting his notes, it was easy to see why. Plasmius was a prominent rogue that Phantom had fought multiple times according to the reports. Early GIW notes on Plasmius hypothesized him being a similar type of ectoplasmic entity but at a higher power level. That changed over time, and more recent reports placed Plasmius at a lower power level to Phantom. Interestingly, in the past few years Plasmius had all but vanished. The GIW speculated that Phantom had either finally consumed his long time nemesis or otherwise defeated him in some manner.

Oddly, Plasmius didn’t look much like Vlad Masters. At all. They each had very distinct styles, and only in the general face shape and stature could Tim see any resemblance to Masters. Was Vlad Masters a shapeshifting ghost?

A crash startled Tim into looking up from his phone. He was unsurprised to see Danny had leapt over the table to tackle Master to the floor, eyes glowing green and fangs protruding as he snarled. Vlad Masters wasn’t doing much better, snarling with even pointier fangs and eyes a solid glowing red.

“You are being childish,” Masters sneered.

“And you are being a busy-body!” Danny snarled back. “My dating life is no concern of yours.”

Okay…clearly Tim had missed an important bit of conversation while in his mini research-hole.

“It is my concern if you’re letting your little, airheaded socialite run his mouth about the Infinite Realms.”

That was uncalled for. Tim had spent a long time crafting his public persona so he didn’t come across as silly as Brucie Wayne. Vlad clearly hadn’t been doing his research if he thought Tim was anything like Brucie.

“It’s not him, it was the Justice League!” Danny dodged a punch from Vlad.

“And how – praytell – did you get the attention of those morons?” Vlad managed to swipe Danny’s feet out from under him before Danny’s counterattack could land.

Danny flashed with rings of bright white light before he could hit the floor, transforming into his floating ghost form. Not unexpected. What was unexpected was that Plasmius followed with his own rings of light. And where a smarmy middle-aged businessman once sat, was now a vampiric-looking ghost. And then everything clicked into place for Tim. Because Vlad wasn’t just a ghost. He was like Danny: a halfa.

As the pair of halfas began to lob ectoblasts at one another, Tim mentally wrote off this safehouse as the walls were singed from the ghostly combat. Danny got flown through a wall, only to come flying back with a wall of ice that Vlad just managed to dodge. The safehouse kitchen was not so lucky.

“You’re out of practice, Plasmius.”

“And you’re just as impertinent as always. If you recall, I am trying to avoid throwing myself into an early grave.”

“You’re keeping your ghostly instincts bottled away. That cannot be healthy.”

Vlad – Plasmius, Tim mentally corrected – tackled Phantom and grappled him until they were both flying through the air and through another wall.

Tim thought about intervening, but then he remembered his and Danny’s conversation at the coffee shop and he figured it was probably best to let the two ghosts blow off some steam. However, when one of Plasmius’ ectoblasts very nearly hit Tim, he decided that he really didn’t need to be here for whatever ghostly bonding/therapy session was currently happening in the safehouse. He left a text for Danny that he was picking up dinner, and then left the two ghosts alone.

Two hours later, Tim returned with two large pizzas and Tucker in tow, citing, “Vlad may not give us much trouble these days, but he’s still a conniving bastard. Better to be safe than sorry.”

They opened the door to an absolutely trashed safehouse, excluding the kitchen table and precisely two of the original four chairs. Vlad and Danny were currently sitting across from one another in said chairs. Neither of them looked any worse than how Tim had left them, and they were currently chatting as if they hadn’t been trying to strangle one another two hours ago.

“And you are certain Jasmine is not in need of any assistance.”

“Ancients, Vlad, you know she’s on scholarships. And Mom and Dad are independently wealthy from their patents and tax evasion.”

“Tax evasion?” Tim couldn’t help asking.

“Yeah, turns out selling exclusively to a government organization that has confidentiality agreements worse than the CIA makes for a headache that not even the IRS wants to deal with. That’s not even getting into their crime of an organization system.”

“They don’t have an organization system,” Vlad countered. “That’s what I was for.”

“The more stories I hear about your college days, I have to wonder if you were actually another ecto-scientist or Mom and Dad’s lab assistant.”

“Why you little – ”

“Okay, that’s enough of that! We brought pizza!” Tucker interrupted with clap of his hands.

Vlad – despite being a full adult with prospering corporation – replied to Tucker by chucking his phone at the twenty year old and demanded, “Fix it.”

Tucker fumbled the catch a couple times before Tim swooped in to catch it before it crashed to the floor.

“Asshole! Heard of manners?” Danny demanded.

“Manners are for people who earn them. I know your little geek friend is the culprit. If I hear that Ancients-damned song one more time, I am going to level a city.”

Tucker snickered and snatched the phone out of Tim’s hand. “Alright, alright, old man. Give me a second.”

Tim set down the pizzas on the table since literally every other surface was demolished and/or covered in debris. “What’s this about?”

“Locked Vlad’s phone ringtone on this one bubblegum pop song from a ghost cartoon,” Tucker explained.

“It’s an insidious earworm. I loathe you.”

“Feeling is mutual.” Tucker stuck his tongue out for emphasis.  

Tim leaned on the back of Danny’s chair and whispered by his ear. “So, did you get some of your anxiety out of your system?”

Danny hummed. “Some. But I’ll be anxious about this no matter what. I do still want to see your Nest though.”

Tim leaned closer to Danny’s ear. “Once you get to ditch the fruitloop.” He was pleased to see Danny’s ears flush from the proximity.

“O-oh? In that case – ” Danny turned to Vlad. “ – Bye, Vlad. We’re leaving.”

Both Vlad and Tucker turned to Danny. “What? But I just got here,” Tucker protested.

“Great, so you’re on Vlad-sitting duty. I want to see my boyfriend’s apartment.”

“Gross,” Vlad remarked.

“You mean this isn’t it?” Tucker asked.

“The co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises live in such squalor? I think not,” Vlad remarked.

“Then whose fucking apartment did you and Danny just trash?!” Tucker demanded.

Danny grabbed Tim’s hand meanwhile, and with his other grabbed a pizza. “Come on, now’s our chance.”

Tim grinned and let his boyfriend drag him away.

Simultaneous calls of “Daniel!” and “Danny!” followed them. But Danny just cackled in reply. And next thing Tim knew they were racing down the street. Tim hailed a cab. And then they were both collapsed in the back of it, breathless more from their own giddy laughter than anything else. Tim couldn’t remember being so…so…carefree and childish. It was strange and exhilarating, and it made it that much easier to fall in love with Danny. Especially when he leaned into Tim’s space as their laughter died down and graced him with a searing kiss that Tim felt buzz from his lips to his toes. His thoughts felt as weightless as the top of an arc when grappling between roofs, just before the drop.

Chapter Text

Danny plunged his fist into Jason’s chest for the third time in a row and it was still one of the freakiest things Jason had ever seen. And Jason had seen a lot of freaky shit. “Is there seriously no better way to do this?” Jason complained, unable to tear his eyes away from the arm phased into his chest.

Danny shrugged. “Maybe? First time doing this sort of thing. Worked for Tim.”

“You gave Tim a piece of your soul. I don’t think it’s the same thing at all.”

“Plus, it’s the quickest way to your core, ghostling.”

“Ghostling?!”

“Yeah, that’s one of the terms for baby ghost. Which you kind of are.”

“I want to shoot you so badly.”

And the damn ghost king smirked. “You can try.”

It was Jason’s first day of “ecto-infusions” as prescribed by Frostbite. It hadn’t started out great because Phantom had to force the Lazarus Pit water in Jason’s veins to the surface, so he’d started out the afternoon wanting to go on a murder spree. But after a couple transfusions switching out the Pit water with Phantom’s ectoplasm, he was feeling a lot calmer. In fact, Jason couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so clear-headed. He even had a faint urge to contact Dick. Bleurgh, sentimentality…

On the television in the background, NNN was interviewing Captain Marvel. Occasionally, Danny was especially distracted by whatever the big Red Cheese had to say, before shaking his head and returning his attention to Jason.

“Captain Marvel, the Justice League has been great supporters of both meta and alien rights. But both are clearly considered living beings. And reports are coming in from alternative sources that these ectoplasmic entities – frankly – don’t have the same cognizance as living beings. Some are literally considered ‘shades’ of emotions. Why do you champion them, if you’ll excuse the pun?” The interviewer asked, and Jason saw Danny twitch. Not at all concerning with his hand inside Jason’s chest!

“Danny, focus,” Jason hissed. “I don’t want you rupturing my lungs by mistake.”

“Sorry!”

“Well, Sharon,” Captain Marvel replied, “it was not too long ago that many condemned both aliens and metas as lesser beings merely for not fitting into the standard mold of ‘human.’  But I’ve done personal research into the matter, and even met a couple ecto-entities. They may not have the same needs as we do, but they are still aware of themselves and others. We can’t just condemn them as non-feeling and non-sentient just because they’re different. Too many tragedies in history have already occurred because someone thought the same of someone else. And I won’t let another occur when I can do something to stop it.”

A round of applause on screen startled Danny again.

Jason sighed. “Do you need a break so you can watch this? I know you’re probably nervous about the media shitstorm going on. Or we can turn it off.”

“No!” Danny exclaimed. “I mean…sorry. No, we can take a break.” His hand slid out of Jason’s chest, drawing some of the corrupted ectoplasm with it and molding it around his hand like Play-doh as Phantom’s natural ectoplasm began to filter it.

Danny’s eyes were glued to the television as the next question started up.

“Well, I don’t know if we have any ghost viewership of NNN, but if we do, what would you want to say to them, Captain?”

Captain Marvel leaned forward some and directed his smile away from the news anchor to the cameras. “I would tell them I am working to keep them safe. And that while I know they are capable of handling themselves to not let our past dealings keep them from accepting help. That they have a right to exist here same as everyone else.”

“Inspired words. Only one of the many reasons they call you ‘world’s mightiest mortal,’ I’m sure.” The reporter winked at the camera.

Captain Marvel chuckled nervously. The Big Cheese always did seem a little more camera shy than some of the other League members. But only when it came to one-on-one interviews.

“Ugh, creep,” Danny muttered.

“What? Captain Marvel? Are you kidding? He’s like the least creepy dude ever.”

“No. The reporter.”

Jason still didn’t get it. “Dude, flirting like that is part of the business. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“She still shouldn’t be doing that when – nevermind.”

Jason wanted to unpack what the hell Danny saw in that interview that Jason missed because Sharon Delancey of NNN was basically as professional as a talkshow reporter could get.

But Danny asked a question before Jason could. “You hate the Justice League, right?”

Jason was finding it harder than usual to keep track of Danny’s conversation. He and Tim really were perfect for one another, with their trainwrecks of thought. “I mean, not anymore so much. I still think they don’t do enough. And some of their double-standards infuriate me. Oh, and don’t get me started on – ”

“Close enough for me,” Danny interrupted. “Do you think I should meet with them?”

“Uhhh, wasn’t that the plan? Not that I’ve really kept up with how the Bats have been handling all of this ecto-business.”

Danny pulled his knees to his chest on Jason’s couch, and oh no. No, this was not good. Knees to the chest meant a feelings talk. Great.

“What the fuck even brought this on? Aren’t you in with the Bats? Hell, you’re dating Timmers.”

“That’s not it. The Bats are fine. Mostly. It’s the Justice League I’m worried about.”

Jason paused. “Same thing that has B brooding up in the Watchtower for ages?”

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?”

“Are you kidding? No B means uninterrupted Alfred time. And I hate broody Batman. He’s the worst. Only speaks in grunts like a socially inept caveman.”

Danny chuckled some at the image. “It’s stupid. And I’ve already talked to Tim, but the Justice League got a bad impression of me while in Amity Park. I don’t want to deal with it.”

Jason sucked in a breath. “Tough shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Danny, you’re king of your people. And the Justice League are on your side. You need allies. You can’t afford to just ignore them because you might feel awkward or they’re a bunch of assholes.”

“But this isn’t just a Phantom problem! They know who I am now! College undergrad Danny shouldn’t have to deal with it!”

Jason growled. “That fucker. I can’t believe he revealed your secret ID just because – “

“It wasn’t Batman!” Danny interjected. “Calm down. It was my parents. They revealed me. They didn’t mean to, but they’re not very socially perceptive and the pieces are not hard to put together once someone knows who they are to Phantom.”

“Well that was dickish of them.”

“I told you, they didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, but they still did it, and that’s shitty of them. And it’s okay to be angry about it.”

Danny sighed. “I don’t even mind that part. I’m used to my parents being overly embarrassing and just generally screwing up my life. But now I have to contend with the Justice League either thinking I’m some kind of child or knowing who Danny is, not just Phantom. I was really hoping they’d only have to know Phantom.”

Jason fiddled with his cuff. “Bruce was afraid of bats.”

Danny choked out a laugh. “Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?”

“That’s the reason he’s ‘Batman.’ He was afraid of bats as a kid and decided to dress like one to fight crime so he could conquer his fear. And all his kids and Gotham have been suffering ever since. Hal Jordan was kicked out of the military before he became a Lantern. Wonder Woman nearly drowned in a vat of milk uncovering a Nazi plot once, and I watched Zatanna Zatara literally lose the her hat on stage because her magic got too out of control during a show.”

Danny stared wide-eyed as if the very knowledge of embarrassing Justice League moments would curse him. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jason shrugged. “All heroes have stuff in their past they don’t talk about or they’re embarrassed by. Some of those moments later define them as heroes, others are just anecdotes they don’t want to ever have brought up again. And it makes it fair. Now if on the odd chance they make a fuss about you being Danny Fenton, half-alive wonder, then you can fling their own shit back at them.”

The ghost king smiled, and Jason heard a soft sound of ice clinking emanating from the Halfa. “Thanks, Jason.”

“Don’t mention it.” He pointed at Danny. “Seriously, don’t mention it. The less the Justice League thinks about me and my questionable actions, the better.”

“Lips are sealed, Jay.” Danny locked his lips and threw away the key like the little shit he was.

Danny stood in his home in the Infinite Realms, Phantom’s Keep, fiddling with the vambraces his ghost form donned only in the most official of kingly matters. Clockwork stood nearby counting down the seconds until time in the Realms lined up for the scheduled time on Danny’s original earth to meet with the Justice League in their Watchtower.

“It will be alright, Great One,” Frostbite put a reassuring paw on Danny’s shoulder. He wouldn’t be accompanying Danny to the meeting, although Danny wished he would. But Danny was just grateful Frostbite had come to the council meeting to support his continued policy seeking peaceful solutions to the GIW and Anti-Ecto Acts. The Justice League’s support had gone a long way in convincing the council, but it was clear that everyone was fed up with the GIW capturing and torturing their own. Nocturne had clamored for war in particular this time, likely to wreak vengeance on behalf of the baku Phantom and the Bats had freed from the New Jersey GIW base. This meeting might be Earth’s last chance, and the pressure to ensure it went well felt heavy on Danny’s shoulders.

“I hope so, Frostbite,” Danny replied softly instead of brushing off the reassurance like usual.

There was a tug on Danny’s pants leg. He looked down into the wide-eyed adoration of an eyelet. Next to Danny, Frostbite shifted uncomfortably around the young observant. “Don’t worry, King Phantom! We eyelets have been watching verrrrry closely with Sir Tuck’s te-le-vision. And Eye-saac sends us updates. You will have many warriors on your side in the moral realm!”

Danny managed a small smile. “Thanks, Eye-vory. What has Eye-saac been saying?”

“Many good things! His magician is working very hard to ensure the Justice League performs the proper etiquette.” Eye-vory’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He even told us they want to keep the welcoming committee small so as not to overwhelm you. But he wasn’t supposed to tell us that, so keep it secret.”

“I won’t tell,” Danny promised forcing himself not coo at eyelet adorableness.

“Oh! And Sk-eye says that Mister Wayne is militant against the GIW. Which Eye-leen thought meant he was going to war. But Sk-eye said that they just meant he was just going to war with words.”

“Huh, I missed that. What’s Mister Wayne been saying?”

Eye-vory’s large red pupil swirled with light as she called on her powers. Each eyelet tended to have their own specialty, usually as a consequence of being assigned different projects. Just as Eye-saac was rapidly becoming an expert in demonic contracts and laws, Eye-vory’s personal projects had mostly consisted of infiltrating and gathering intelligence in other courts. One of the skills she had developed was the ability to hear something once and be able to remember every word and inflection said. It made her an excellent spy and an even better gossip.

“Mister Wayne said on the te-le-vision:

‘I am astounded and appalled that I belong to a country whose elected officials have allowed bigotry and genocide to occur in this day and age. Wayne Enterprises has always sought to advance innovation for the betterment of all. And to wreak change when the status quo is unconscionable. Which is why we will be devoting a base sum of 3.5 million dollars to ectoplasmic research and relief for victims affected by the Anti-Ecto Acts.’

“What do you think, King Phantom?”

Danny smiled down at the eyelet. “I think it’s very good news, and it helps a lot. Thank you, Eye-vory.”

And he was truthful. Something about Bruce Wayne’s public support settled some of his nerves. Just as Captain Marvel’s had helped steel him to talk to Billy later. He hated fighting with his friend from Fawcett City, mostly because it was so damn hard to stay mad at Billy Batson. But that would have to wait until later.

“It is time, young king,” Clockwork announced.

Danny steeled himself. Fright Knight and Pandora stood behind him as he sliced a portal into the air to the Watchtower. Showtime!

The aura around the meeting table was tense as the Justice League counted down the seconds to the scheduled meeting time. The revelations and missteps from the day in Amity Park weighed heavy on Bruce (and likely the others present at the time) while they awaited King Phantom’s arrival. None of them had had the opportunity to apologize in person yet. But they’d hoped their actions since then might have made some amends. From Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman’s interviews to Zatana’s less public acts of researching counter-magic to the GIW wards and traps, they’d all been busy making it up to the ghostly monarch.

At 1800 UTC time on the dot, a rip in the air expanded into a swirling green portal that reminded Bruce sickeningly of the Lazarus Pit. Three figures emerged before the portal was quickly zipped back up as if it had never been there.

Phantom was in the center, but in a form Batman barely recognized. Gone was the ethereal teenager in a hazmat suit. The white hair was longer and interspersed with small braids, atop which sat a frozen crown of fire. Phantom was still somewhat human looking, but he looked more like Tim’s age than the teenager they League had encountered before. Off his back flowed a cape like a slice of the cosmos, and the rest of his vestments were far more stately than a lab suit. Over his head floated a crown of frozen fire, and a draconic ring was curled around a claw. He definitely looked the part of a ghost king, even if the two ghosts accompanying him were even stranger.

One was a literal dark knight in armor. Even though he stood in the bright lights of a watchtower meeting room, he seemed encased in shadows all the same. Violet fire rippled from his head and down his back like a cape. At his hip was a sword from which Batman heard the echo of screams in the back of his mind that sent a frisson of fear running down his spine.

The knight stepped forward. “Announcing his majesty, High King Phantom, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, King of Ghosts, Keeper of the Balance, Protector of Amity Park, Defeater of the tyrant Pariah Dark, Honored Prince of the Far Frozen, Apprentice to – “

“We don’t have to go through the whole list of titles, Sir Fright Knight,” Phantom interrupted. He turned his eyes on the gathered Justice League. “Thank you for hosting us, Justice League of this Realm.”

“Your Majesty, it is not proper,” the knighted ghost whispered, his voice echoey like a horror movie.

Phantom ignored the rather terrifying ghost and addressed the Justice League. “Let me introduce two members of my council: Sir Fright Knight, the Captain of my Guard and Spirit of Halloween. And Lady Pandora, Keeper of the Box and Guardian over the Amazonian Afterlives.”

The third ghost present was the tallest of them, a blue-skinned warrior woman with four arms garbed in armor that Bruce recognized as an Amazonian style armor from Themyscira. Magenta flames of hair floated from underneath a golden helmet also plumed with magenta fire. Solid red eyes promised a fight she was sure to win. She was not what Bruce expected the famed Pandora from myth to look like.

“Welcome,” Superman greeted. “We are honored to host you.”

Next to Bruce, Wonder Woman stepped forward and entered a deep bow. “It is an honor to be in your presence, Lady Pandora.”

For the first time since entering through the portal, the expression on the Grecian ghost changed into a small smile. Where Fright Knight’s voice was reminiscent of the terrors that could lurk in the darkest of Gotham’s alleyways, the other ghost’s voice held the crackle of a hearth fire and the clash of weapons in battle. “At ease, Diana of Themyscira. The pleasure is mine to meet a fellow warrior of such upstanding.”  

Superman continued on to introduce the other members of the Justice League present, and Bruce tuned him out, focused instead on King Phantom. Many of Phantom’s features were less human now, including his long claws and elfin ears. But Bruce could still see the features of Danny Fenton, especially in this older form. More evidence to support his theory. The only question was how. How could a dead kid also be a living college student?

With introductions over with, everyone took their seats at the round table. The ghost-child who had crashed the last meeting with John Constantine was also present at this one. He seemed unable to contain their excitement any longer now that initial pleasantries were over, and flung himself across the room to the arms of the ghostly monarch.

“King Phantom!” The eyelet squealed.

Phantom caught the eyelet flying towards him with ease. “Hi Eye-saac. Been good?”

“The best! Uncle Johnny’s taught me soooo much.”

Phantom laughed and placed the ghost-child on his lap while he sat cross-legged in a chair. “I’m sure he has.”

“And I’ve been very dutiful in caring for him. I have a whole checklist. He’s not very good at keeping himself alive,” Eye-saac whispered loud enough for the whole table to overhear.

Several seats down, John Constantine’s head thunked against the tabletop.

Fright Knight grumbled something low and throaty like the purr of a night stalker.

“Sorry, Frighty,” Eye-saac apologized, sobering under the knight’s attention.

“We’ll talk later. Promise,” Phantom soothed. He addressed the Justice League, “We are ready to begin if you all are.”

Wonder Woman stood. “First, on behalf of myself, Captain Marvel, Batman, Green Lantern Hal Jordan, and Zatanna Zatara, we wish to apologize most profusely for our actions while in your Haunt. We had agreed to follow your rules and then disobeyed them. What may we do to make amends for our behavior?”

Phantom blinked in surprise. A very living reaction. More evidence. “Oh, that’s…no worries. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

Pandora huffed from where she sat beside Phantom. “Your majesty, sleights are to be atoned for, not forgiven due to pretty words.”

“Lady Pandora speaks true,” Fright Knight added. He batted away at Eye-saac’s hand inching towards his sword.

Phantom seemed to disagree with his advisors and faced Wonder Woman. “Your guilt feels genuine, and I have seen your members atoning through actions already. I’d rather us just forget what happened in Amity Park, to be honest.”

Captain Marvel spoke next. “Then let our actions continue to speak for our atonement. The Justice League is committed to stand with you to declare ectoplasmic entities sentient and capable of their own self-governance.”

Phantom stared. Bruce was surprised himself. The Justice League had already voted to stand against the Anti-Ecto Acts, but Marvel’s proclamation may have just committed them to additional responsibilities. Even if it didn’t, his proclamation put them at a disadvantageous starting position for these talks. Bruce mentally chastised himself for thinking that. After all, they were dealing with a genocide, not a company merger.

“Furthermore, we intend to push for a policy of non-interference in the Infinite Realms,” Superman added, building off of Captain Marvel’s declaration.

“And I already have leverage from Oa to pursue criminal charges if the US government doesn’t comply,” Hal Jordan added.

“That sounds a lot like a threat,” Phantom pointed out, somehow moderating the talks now. “We’re blackmailing now?”

“No,” Bruce interrupted. He followed his colleagues and friends in their firm stances of support. “We are not threatening, we are condemning actions that should have never been taken in the first place. And remedying our previous mistake that allowed the Anti-Ecto Acts to be overlooked and passed before.”

Phantom imitated a fish with the way his jaw open and shut with shock. Pandora spoke for him. “We are deeply relieved to hear that you are committed to helping our people. With that in mind, we can begin collaborating on a strategy moving forward.”

“Here, here,” Fright Knight agreed.

Phantom stood slowly and turned piercing green eyes on the table. “Before we do that, from the bottom of my core, thank you.”

“Aw, spooks, we’re just doing what we should have done years ago,” Hal remarked.

Eye-saac wiggled on Phantom’s lap. He pulled out some sort of scroll from inside his chest. “I’ve been jotting down some ideas for contracts. I even asked Uncle Johnny for help.”

“You told me that was for a demon deal, twerp,” Constantine protested from down the table. He slowly sat back down as every eye trained on him. Wonder Woman looked like she wanted to strangle the magician after they had just made so much progress with Phantom.

“No,” Eye-saac replied slowly. “I told you it was for ‘a deal.’ I never specified demon.”

Constantine growled and huffed in protest. “Damn eyeball gremlin.”

Phantom grinned, revealing the toothy fangs under his lips, not the least bit offended by Constantine. Then again, evidence thus far indicated Phantom enjoyed riling the magician. “Looks like you have been learning a lot from the Laughing Magician after all, squirt. You’ve been a great pupil.”

“Really?” There were literal stars in the eyelet’s eyes, flashing briefly.

Bruce’s own lips barely twitched at the play on words Phantom had made, reminding him of a young Dick whispering his own puns from underneath Batman’s cape during the early days of the Justice League. He wished his son could be here now, but they had all agreed to keep the meeting small so as not to overwhelm Phantom. Tim had vehemently protested, but Superman had already scanned for Stowaway Bats and Birds. It was unlikely any of his children were on the station, but never impossible. Not with them.

“What are your most critical concerns for your people at this time?” Batman asked, bringing the meeting back on course.

Pandora nodded at Batman gratefully. “The Ghost Investigation Ward has many of our kind captive and continue to run experiments on them to further their own knowledge against us. It is most pressing for them to be returned to us. Especially as the GIW have proven most dishonorable in the past and would rather End ghosts than allow us the chance to rescue them.”

Fright Knight added, “their continued work to capture King Phantom is a matter of great precedence as well. Should he be captured, the entire Realms would rally to obliterate your world.”

The air seemed to suck itself out of the room at the knight’s pronouncement.

“Which is why it’s a very good thing I am well protected, and we are seeking to overturn these Acts, right?” Phantom said, a warning in his voice to his Captain of the Guard. “No world obliterating required.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Wonder Woman spoke next. “We can press the US government for emergency power to organize rescue missions for ectoplasmic beings from GIW facilities, especially as many of their actions are considered criminal under the Geneva Convention.”

Flash spoke up next, knee bouncing under the table. “We’ll have to be quick about it. As soon as we make our intentions known, it’s likely the GIW will try and sabotage their work and End as many ghosts as they can.”

“Teams will be standing by for immediate deployment,” Hawkman decided.

“And meanwhile, we can also work on establishing diplomatic protections for King Phantom,” Hawkwoman added.

“Would you like us to provide a security detail, your majesty?” Aquaman asked.

Phantom flushed green. “Uh, that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

Fright Knight grumbled something next to Phantom, earning him a glare from the young king.

Pandora spoke instead, “Your concern is much appreciated, but Phantom has considerable protections already, and plenty of ghosts who will gladly give their afterlives for him.”

Phantom pulsed with light and the temperature of the meeting room plummeted. He looked sick at the idea of any of his people sacrificing themselves for his defense. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and the cold creeped away, back to the usual temperature of the watchtower. “Thank you for your concerns, but it is a mute point because I am well protected and the GIW is still no match for my power as King. However, I hope we can continue to collaborate for the protection of my people who exist in this Realm.”

Those gathered were unsettled by Phantom’s brief but powerful display in the slip of emotions, but the talks continued on as logistics were discussed, and the foundations of diplomatic relations established. Bruce noticed that Phantom’s eyes flickered to Bruce several times throughout the meeting. As well as to the other Leaguers who had ventured to Amity Park. He seemed to be waiting for them to say something more about the mission. But as the meeting continued, he relaxed as they all had agreed not to discuss the personal information that had been revealed from their visit.

Danny felt Batman before he heard him. It was hard not to; Batman’s emotions – despite having excellent control over them – were so loud.  Guilt and concern and determination and a hundred other accompanying feelings hidden in the folds of his cloak and under his cowl.

“How are you enjoying the view?” Batman asked at Phantom’s side.

Danny sighed with contentment. “It’s incredible. I’ve loved space since I was really little. Wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up.” And it truly was incredible. With the meeting in a brief recess after hours of discussion, Flash had shown Danny this observation deck of the watchtower where he could view the stars.

Batman grunted, which didn’t really tell Danny much, but his emotions felt calm and encouraging, so Danny continued talking. “Even when I died, I retained my fondness for space. Enough so that one day I will grow into the Ancient of Space, assuming nothing big changes to my timeline.”

A spike of sadness and concern drifted from Batman.  

“No need to pity me,” Danny said. “Like I said, I like space.”

“It sounds like a heavy burden.”

“He speaks! It’s a miracle!” Danny jested.

Batman returned to grunting again, but it was distinctly amused and fond.

“It won’t happen for a couple centuries, you know. I have time to prepare for it. And honestly, it sounds far preferrable to my role as High King anyway.”

“Was the former High King an Ancient too?” Batman asked.

Danny thought about it. “You know, I’m not sure. Didn’t even cross my mind to consider that. I’ll have to ask around.”

The pair of them returned to silence. It was mostly peaceful, but Batman’s emotions betrayed something on his mind. Danny let the silence linger a while longer and watched a couple meteors streak by before breaking it.

“What do you want to ask, Batman?”

“Are you dating my son?”

If Danny needed to breathe at this current moment, his breath would have left him. “What?” He croaked out.

“Red Robin has been distracted, and he has been keeping information from his reports. Additionally, his adamant defense of you indicates a level of compromised emotions similar to when he is personally entangled in a case. Likely romantically involved with a person of interest.”

“You’re saying this is not a new thing for him?”

Batman grunted. “I know my children.”

“Okay, fair enough. But why do you think that it’s me? I mean, until today you thought I was a dead teenager. Not exactly dating material.”

“Except Red Robin is not dating a dead teenager, he is dating Daniel Fenton.”

Danny had to force himself to calm down before he frosted the entire observation deck, Batman included. “What.”

“And as it has recently become apparent, that name also belongs to you.”

Danny let himself sink so he could dig his claws into the carpet of the room to ground him. He let his Phantom form breath, slow in and out breath with slow counts in-between to ground him. “I knew it. I told them you’d figured it out.”

Batman crouched beside him, but still distant enough to give Danny space. “I do not tell you this to threaten you. I respect your right to a secret identity, even though I am curious to know how a living human can also become a ghost at will.”

“Then why are you trying to kill me again with a heart attack?” Danny exclaimed. “Ancients! You Bats are all incorrigible.”

“Again, I merely wish to ascertain your relationship with my son. And…I’d like to invite you for dinner.”

Okay Danny must be having some kind of ghostly stroke, because there was no way Batman just asked Danny over to his house. “You want to have me over for dinner,” he echoed out loud. Nope, didn’t sound any less ridiculous.

“My family often complains about my habit to hide behind a cowl for personal matters. But Red Robin’s dating life is not a case for Batman, but rather a matter for Bruce Wayne to handle.”

“Surprisingly emotionally mature thought process there. Been talking with Alfred lately?”

Batman hummed, but neither confirmed nor denied anything, but Danny had the oddest feeling that Batman was enjoying himself with giving Danny emotional whiplash. “Is this how you introduce yourself to all your kids’ dates? Drop in on them as Batman and then invite them to your manor?”

“No.”

Danny rolled his eyes at the lack of elaboration. “Then why me?”

“You may also consider it a thank you. For helping save my sons from the GIW.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “If that’s the case, Tucker should come too. He probably helped you all more than I did.”

“He is welcome to join us too. How does tomorrow night sound?”

Danny spluttered. “Just like that?”

Batman nodded.

Danny tried grasping for a reasonable excuse, but they all slipped out of reach like shades. “Uhhh, busy. I mean, we’re busy. How about Sunday?”

Batman nodded again. “Sunday night then. Any dietary restrictions for Alfred to be aware of.”

“No?”

Batman nodded, grunted, and then stood. “Then we will see you Sunday. And Phantom?”

“Yes?”

“We look forward to having you.” With that, Batman swept out of the room just as silently as he’d entered it.  

“Dramatic bastard,” Danny grumbled. He stared out at the stars and tried to quell his panic. Holy shit, he had just been invited to Batman’s house. For dinner. He’d just been invited to his boyfriend’s parent’s house for dinner. All of these facts were anxiety inducing. Tucker was going to flip. Actually, Tucker would probably be excited. Tim however, was definitely going to freak out. Or did he already know? No, Tim would have warned him. Right?

How was Danny supposed to get through the rest of the Justice League meeting after that bombshell? Let alone talk things out with Billy?

Chapter Text

Billy slid into their usual vinyl booth across from Danny, who had already ordered milkshakes for them both. He looked over the older hero. He had more pronounced bags under his eyes, but otherwise looked fine.

“The meeting went really well,” Billy said to open conversation. “Or my co-workers seem to think so.”

Danny smiled. “My co-workers seem to think so too. Though I’m sure they were hoping for a chance to go against the GIW in a proper battle.”

Billy grinned. “Well, I’ll text you if there ends up being any fighting.”

“Much obliged, oh mighty Champion of Magic.”

Billy snorted. It almost felt like normal, except for the stone of guilt in his stomach. “Thanks for meeting with me, Danny. I wasn’t sure…never mind.”

Danny’s eyes softened at the edges, his smile more subdued. “You’re still my friend, Billy.”

“I screwed up though. I pried into your personal life and overstepped your boundaries. In front of some major heroes no less. And now Batman knows your identity, and – ”

“Billy, relax,” Danny interrupted. “I wasn’t happy you did all that, but that just means I was angry and needed space. Not that I was going to never talk to you again.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have undermined your authority in Amity Park. And I definitely should not have revealed personal stuff you told me in confidence.”

Danny took a long sip of his milkshake. “Yeah, did not love that. But I forgive you, so long as you don’t do it again.”

“Just like that?”

Danny grinned. “Not just like that at all. Dude, you’ve been doing interviews all week against the anti-ecto acts. For me and my people. I know how much you hate doing talk shows.”

“That’s – I didn’t do those for you to forgive me. I did the interviews because it was the right thing to do!”

“Which makes me want to forgive you all the more. You’re a good person, Billy. And a good friend. And you made a mistake, but you’ve been doing your best to make up for it. Would you forgive me if the situations were reversed?”

Billy twirled the straw in his milkshake, and watched the chocolate chips swirl. “Probably.”

“Then it shouldn’t be so surprising I’d forgive you too. Now, how about we order some burgers, and you tell me all the gossip from our visit to the Watchtower?”

Billy looked up and met Danny’s easy smile with one of his own, some of the weight in his stomach gone after their conversation. “Are you bribing me to reveal confidential information?”

“Is it working?” Danny grinned back. And it felt almost normal.

Tim’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. His thoughts flickered through worst case scenarios like skimming through the pages of a book. There were far too many variables to take into account, and most of those variables became less predictable when forced together in an enclosed space. Hope for success tonight was dwindling by the second. The possibility of it all devolving into chaos made a significant uptick when Tim picked up Danny and Tucker twenty minutes ago, and the halfa had told him that Jason – for the first time in ages – had agreed to come to dinner too. Why the hell had Tim ever let Bruce talk him into this?

But Bruce hadn’t really talked him into it, had he? No, the Batman had forced Tim into this. Honestly, Tim should have seen this coming from a man whose inner mantra partly consisted of “I am vengeance.” Because when he figured out that Tim’s new boyfriend and the ghost king were the same person, it had taken Tim’s father figure barely any time at all to enact his horrible, evil revenge upon Tim. During the Justice League meeting, he had invited Danny for dinner.

Unfortunately, Danny had declined dinner for that night, suggesting Sunday evening instead. Traitor. Never give a Bat more time plan. Tim should have dumped him as soon as he heard of his boyfriend’s foolishness. But Danny still might have shown up anyway out of spite. He would be his perfect self and gain the sympathies of Tim’s family, turning them all against him. Tim briefly considered he might just be catastrophizing again, but then he remembered life had a way of throwing worst case scenarios at him like bullets from an automatic rifle.

So, now Bruce had not only invited Tim’s boyfriend to Batman’s home turf, but he had time to plot. Said plotting involved subtly roping Dick into his schemes, which meant the whole family knew now and were all planning on showing up. Including Jason, apparently. Tim would suggest someone killing him now, but he didn’t think even death would get him out of this dinner amongst the likes of Alfred and Danny.

“Hey, Birdie, you’re being awfully silent there,” Danny said. “Relax. It’s just dinner.”

Tim shook his head and stared at Danny in horror. “You sweet summer child, no. You cannot go in there thinking this is just anything. This is dinner with my family. This will be an interrogation you can never prepare for. The only thing standing between the thin façade of civility and unbridled chaos is the will of Alfred.”

“You’re as dramatic as Danny,” followed a snort from the backseat from one Tucker Foley who had also been invited. “You should have seen him freaking out when he returned from the Justice League meeting.”

Danny gasped. “Tucker, my own best friend, how dare you?”

“You two are definitely suited for each other. Say, how does Alfred feel about meat?”

“He makes a wide variety of dishes, taking into consideration various dietary restrictions and requirements,” Tim replied. “Why? Are you vegetarian?”

This time Danny snorted. “Tucker’s the opposite of a vegetarian.”

“A carnivore?” Tim replied drily.

Danny grinned with teeth. “Precisely.”

“And proud of it, baby!” Tucker crowed.

“On the other hand, if my friend Sam were coming, she is vegan. More vegetarian lately though. She’s had to expand her diet to whatever the locals have available when she’s abroad,” Danny explained.

Tucker continued, “There was one village she was working near and they put eggs in everything. She complained for months.”

Tim appreciated the attempts at distracting conversation, futile as it was. “She and Damian would definitely get along.”

“Yeah, don’t introduce them unless Bruce is ready to lose a whole lot of money to ecological conservation. Sam is not afraid to corrupt the rich youth.”

Tim snorted. “You don’t even want to know how much B already spends on eco-charities because of Damian. Entire species are being saved because of the demon brat.”

“You know, just because you tack ‘demon brat’ on the end of that sentence doesn’t lessen your affection for him anymore,” Danny pointed out.

Tim flushed. “Not a word to him.”

Danny grinned, a single fang peeking out. “Don’t worry, Birdie, I’ll be on your side tonight.”

Tim put the car in park in the Wayne driveway and stared at Danny. “You cannot guarantee that. They will employ tactics that have you questioning your own name. You will experience at least one existential crisis tonight.”

“Is that all? My entire being is an existential crisis.”

“They will spare you no quarter. No mercy. No one can be trusted. Not even me.”

Danny took Tim’s hand in his and met him with an equally intense stare of blue eyes flecked with green. “Doesn’t matter. My loyalty for you shall not be shaken,” Danny promised. Then followed it with a brief kiss on Tim’s nose.

“Y’all are disgustingly sweet,” Tucker commented from the backseat. “And I for one will swear no such fealty to anyone but perhaps the great and powerful Oracle.”

“She would not hesitate to crush you underneath her wheels if it meant getting one over on me,” Tim cautioned.

“And I would welcome it!” Tucker shot back.

Danny laughed. “Come on. Let’s do this thing! How bad can it be?”

Tim groaned. “And now you’ve jinxed us. Great.”

Tim didn’t bother knocking. He didn’t want to give anyone advance warning of their arrival if he could help it. Though he bet that someone was watching them come up the drive. Probably Bruce.

But Tim didn’t even have a chance to open the door, because Alfred did instead, nodding crisply at the guests. Tim used to wonder how Alfred always just knew when someone had arrived. Not much of mystery now since Tim knew was a ghost with Wayne Manor as his haunt; Alfred probably knew the instant they crossed the property line. “Mister Fenton and Mister Foley, welcome to Wayne Manor. Master Tim, welcome back.”

Danny grinned. “No need to pull out all the stops for us, Mister Pennyworth.”

“I am certain I don’t know what you mean, Mister Fenton.”

“Nice to meet you, Mister Alfred! Danny’s told me a lot about you. Thanks for inviting us to your hau- home.” Tucker stuttered over the end of the sentence. He was consequently perhaps a little too exuberant when he stuck out his hand to shake.

Alfred took the hand and shook it. “Well met, Mister Foley. A pleasure as well.” An eyebrow raise went to Tim.

“We briefed him on the way over,” Tim assured the butler. He was not going to let any slip-ups from their guests happen on his watch.

Tim’s guess about surveillance was proven correct when they entered the main foyer and Bruce was hovering at the top of a grand staircase.

“Okay, I used to think Sam’s folks were rich, but this is just insane,” Tucker commented, oblivious to the dark knight looming on the second floor.

“Vlad would be pissing with envy if he could see us here now,” Danny remarked.

Bruce used the opportunity to make his entrance while Alfred hung up everyone’s coats. Tim watched from the corner of his eye as Bruce stepped out of the shadows and descended the stairs.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor,” Bruce greeted with a toned-down version of his Brucie Wayne persona. It still wasn’t quite B’s normal persona, but then again, B’s normal persona was – according to Steph – “a socially inept grouchy pants.”

“Thanks for having us, Mr. Wayne,” Danny chirped, unsurprised by the dramatic entrance, but then again, the halfa had probably already sensed him.

“Yes, thank you!” Tucker echoed, more nervously. Tim wondered if Tucker had a bit of hero worship for the other CEO of Wayne Enterprises, just like when he had first met Tim. 

“Everyone is in the dining room already. This way,” Bruce gestured.

As Alfred bowed out to return to his duties in the kitchen, Tim grasped for Danny’s hand.

Danny squeezed his hand and gave him a bemused look. “Aren’t I supposed to be the nervous one? It’s your family, after all.”

“You should be nervous. But as you clearly are a naïve idiot, I’ll be nervous enough for both of us.”

“Everyone promised to be on their best behavior,” Bruce reassured Tim. Well, he attempted to.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You haven’t had control over your children’s behavior since you had to chase Dick around Gotham in his old acrobat leotard.”

“No cape talk upstairs,” Bruce replied, the hypocrite.

With that, Tim had a startling realization. He literally gasped as it hit him like the front of a truck. “You’re trying to adopt my boyfriend!”

“What?!” Tucker and Danny exclaimed.

Tim ploughed on. “I cannot believe you! He is an adult! And so is Tucker! You can’t adopt them.”

“I’m not adopting them, Tim. I told you, this is a dinner to thank them for their help rescuing you and Jason.”

“You are a filthy liar, Bruce,” Tim insisted. “It took you years before you even considered inviting Clark and Diana to your house. And even then, only from Dick’s prodding.”

“I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

Tim slipped from Danny’s hand and pointed a finger in Bruce’s face. “No adopting my boyfriend and his friends.”

“I promise,” Bruce replied with false solemnity. Tim could see the bemused smirk twitching at his lips. And he just knew his Dad was crossing his fingers behind his back.

“I’ll sic Steph on you, don’t test me.”

Silence descended for a moment before Tucker asked, “out of curiosity what does being adopted entail and does it include free WayneTech prototypes?” This earned him a slap upside the head from Danny.

Tim groaned and shoved Danny and Tucker down the hallway so they could get to the safety of the dining room faster. Safety being a relative term, of course. Deal with the entire overly-protective and overly-curious Bat Family or a serial adopter? Hard choice.

Thankfully, the dining room wasn’t too far from the main entrance. Tim opened one of the double doors to the dining hall not often used unless the whole family was gathered, being the only table large enough to seat them all, plus guests. 

They were bombarded with the noise of a bunch of hungry vigilantes talking, fighting, and taunting amongst themselves. Best behavior, Tim’s ass.

“They’re here!” Steph shouted over the cacophony.

Seven pairs of eyes turned to the doorway.

Tim stepped forward, “To those of you don’t know, this is my boyfriend, Danny, and his friend, Tucker. Please don’t scare them off.”

Tucker clapped Tim’s shoulder. “Relax, Tim. We deal with the dead on a daily basis. We can handle dinner.”

Jason cackled. “You’re going to eat those words, Foley!”

“Why are you even here?” Tim demanded. “You’ve been avoiding everybody.”

Jason did not deign Tim with a response.

Bruce took his customary seat at the head of the table while Tim, Danny, and Tucker took other places. Tucker took an empty seat across from Barbara, while Tim dragged Danny to sit next to him, with Cass on his boyfriend’s other side. He had Duke across from him, and unfortunately Steph across from Danny which meant she’d be merciless all night. Tim was seated next to Dick, and he resigned himself to his older brother’s cooing whenever he deemed something “cute” during dinner.

With everyone seated, Alfred swept into the room with the salad bowl of the first course. As he served everyone, Dick leaned around Tim. “So Danny, heard you were interested in aeronautical engineering. What do you hope to do with that?”

Tim picked up the outer fork so Danny and Tucker would know which one to use for this course. Not that anyone in the room would mind much, except maybe Alfred.

“Well, I’ve always loved space. Wanted to be an astronaut ever since I was little. But health issues mean that’s not in the cards, so I’m playing to my strengths. Always had a knack for tech growing up around my parents.”

“Don’t let him sell himself short,” Tucker interrupted. “Danny is a whiz at engineering.”

“As if you aren’t a coding genius yourself, Tuck,” Danny countered.

“Girls, you’re both pretty. Now let’s stop beating around the bush,” Dick interrupted, with a brief glance exchanged with Jason. Great, they were colluding.

“What are your intentions with our Timantha,” Jason demanded, leaning forward.

Tim spluttered. “Your ‘Timantha?!’”

“I have no intentions for Tim, except maybe using Danny’s new sugar baby status to get new tech,” Tucker replied.

“I’m not a sugar baby! We’re the same age!” Danny protested.

Steph spoke up down the table. “Hey, don’t diss the sugar baby status. It’ll give you perks for years.”

“Shut up, Steph, you’re basically adopted into this family anyway,” Tim countered.

“How dare you? As if I’d let this overdramatic furry anywhere near adoption papers with my name on them,” Steph protested with dramatic gesture towards Bruce.

“Behavior indicates otherwise, Brown. You are here all the time, eat our food, have a room, and Father is paying your college tuition,” Damian remarked. He was a poster boy of high society posture with his back off the chair, elbows off the table and tight to his sides with a fork and knife in each hand as he cut into the salad. It must be that time of year for Alfred’s manners exam. Tim did not miss those, though he’d always passed with flying colors after growing up a Drake.

“He does not! I have a scholarship!” Steph insisted. And Tim decided to remain very very quiet because Bruce may not pay for Steph’s tuition, but the Foundation for the Advancement of Gotham Youth in the Sciences definitely did. Also known as a prank against Steph that got out of hand and managed to be one of Gotham’s most invested philanthropic programs not affiliated with Wayne Enterprises. Only Bruce, Cass and probably Barbara knew the original purpose of the fund, and at this point Steph could never find out.

“What are you hiding?” Danny whispered in Tim’s ear, likely picking up on his emotions because Tim knew his poker face was excellent.

“Tell you later,” Tim whispered back.

Cass snorted on the other side of Danny.

“And what sweet nothings are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Steph demanded.

Cass signed something at her that Tim couldn’t see around Danny.

Whatever it was must not have had anything to do with Tim’s secret funding of his friends’ college tuition, because Steph smirked at Tim. “Adorable.”

Conversation mostly tapered off to speak of other topics for a while as everyone ate their salad. Tucker picked at a few leaves, but he was far more invested in starting an intense debate with Barbara about data analysis applications in AI systems. Dick was charming Danny from across Tim as he asked Danny about his younger vigilante days. Tim chatted idly with Duke and Steph across from him, but kept an ear on Dick and Danny’s conversation in case it ventured into something embarrassing about Tim’s younger vigilante days. But it wasn’t Dick that brought the next trial of dinner, but Bruce.

As Alfred cleared away the salad plates and prepared for the second course, Bruce said, “Captain Marvel was anxious to speak with you after the meeting, Danny. Did he manage to catch you?”

Danny looked to the head of the table and pointed his soup spoon accusingly at Bruce. “I’m not playing this game with you.”

Bruce blinked, “I beg your pardon?”

“Then beg,” Danny replied with a smirk, earning him snickers from most of those gathered at the table.

Tim looked at his boyfriend, hundred questions on his tongue about why Captain Marvel was a point of contention, but he doubted Danny would answer them surrounded by Tim’s family.

“Yeah, what’s your deal with Captain Marvel anyway?” Jason probed.

Danny swiveled his intense gaze to Jason. “Really? With all the secrets you keep close to your chest? You’re on his side?”

“B’ side? Hell no. Gossip’s side, most definitely,” Jason replied.

“In case you haven’t noticed, when it comes to personal information, we’re all hypocrites,” Tim said, glaring at Bruce and Jason in turn.

“You have no room to talk, Bat-stalker,” Steph snarked.

“Bat-stalker?” Tucker asked.

Tim put his head in hands as Dick began to speak with the voice of a performer. “Little Timothy Drake, who was so good at being quiet and unseen, took to the rooftops of Gotham from a young age. Why, you may ask, did a little Bristol-born boy – ”

Tim’s head fell to the table. “Dick, no.”

“Dick, yes,” Danny said, amusement and affection radiating from him.

Steph and Jason snorted across the table.

“ – venture into Gotham’s dangerous heart? Well, he had a camera, a dream, and absolutely no adult supervision. – ”

Tim wished his eldest brother had any ounce of shame, because finding blackmail he’d actually care about was a pain. Dick still thought the Disco-Wing suit had been stylish. Though, Tim remembered Dick disobeying orders on patrol a month ago, leading to a bullet in his right leg and ten stitches to his left side. And he was fairly certain neither Babs nor Bruce knew about it.

“ – Tiny Tim, boy genius, spent long nights figuring out Batman and Robin’s patrol routes and lying in wait to capture the sheer magnificence of the dynamic duo on film, like the world’s most adorable creepy fan.”

Enough was enough. Blackmail time. “I know about the Vipers Case, Nightwing. Don’t test me.”

Dick trailed off, scrunching his brow. Until realization dawned with the slightly panicked look only a Bat could catch in the tensing of Dick’s facial muscles. He finished quickly, “And so Tim took pictures and one day blackmailed Batman into becoming Robin. The end.”

Bruce, obviously noticing the shift. “What happened on the Vipers Case?”

This sparked a back and forth between Dick and Bruce, giving Tim time to straighten and turn on his boyfriend. “I thought you said you’d be on my side,” he hissed.

Danny shrugged, unrepentant. “I am on your side. But as your boyfriend, it is my right and privilege to hear any and all embarrassing childhood stories and view any baby pictures. It’s standard dinner-with-the-family procedure.”

“You’re evil.”

“Nah, evil-me is still doing community service in another dimension for the next nine thousand nine hundred ninety-four years. Minimum.”

Steph, Duke, Jason and Cass, who had been listening in, stared. “Going to explain that, glowstick?” Jason asked.

“Nah. Evil future selves are off limits until the second family dinner,” Danny replied. As Alfred placed a soup bowl in front of Danny, he murmured thanks, and his core hummed with gratitude. Then proceeded to dig into his second course with gusto.

“You never did explain how you know Alfred,” Jason remarked. Tim noticed a green tinge to his eyes that wasn’t there before. But Jason seemed too calm for the Pits to be making a surprise appearance. It was likely he had noticed the ghost speech Danny had hummed. Tim was going to throttle his boyfriend if that slip ended up costing them Alfred’s secrecy.

“From Drake, obviously. They were both present during Phantom’s first appearance in the Cave,” Damian replied.

Tim’s eyes flickered briefly to Danny who seemed to be doing his best not to look conspicuous. But he wasn’t Bat-trained. Eventually the rest of the family would notice he was hiding something too. Cass was already scrutinizing him after the change in body language. Tim realized his family had deliberately set things up so their best body-language reader would be seated right between their two guests. Unsurprising as Tim would have considered a similar strategy.

“No, no,” Jason continued. “When I first met Phantom, he said he was there to help on behalf of Alfred.”

Tucker snorted. “Why wouldn’t he ask for Danny’s help? Phantom is the King of the Dead, after all.”

“But how would Alfred have known that?” Steph demanded.

Across the table Duke was staring intently at Tim. His expression was almost judgmental in his concern, as if saying “look at this tower of secrets wobbling before our eyes.” Which was totally unfair. This was Alfred’s secret, Tim just happened to end up as one of its keepers.

Danny looked down the table at Tucker, who remained oblivious to his best friend’s gaze. The air was tense with Danny’s previous relaxed air shifted to a serious silence. Bruce’s eyes were on Danny now, so Tim knew he had caught the threads of a mystery. Danny and Tucker were making a seemingly innocuous conversation turn into a secret to unravel. They might as well be waving a flashing sign.  

“Danny told us,” Tim said, attempting damage control. “He told me he was King of the Infinite Realms, along with a bunch of other random factoids that just spawned more questions rather than answering anything.”

Jason smirked. “Glad to know it’s not just me he does that to. Must have driven you crazy, Timmers.”

“Probably even more so than usual with the increased obsessive tendencies from hosting part of a ghost core,” Danny added, jumping a little too eagerly at the change in topic. On the plus side, it somewhat worked, diverting the family’s attention away from Alfred. On the downside, they were now radiating worry for him.

“You did not mention that as one of your symptoms.” Bruce stared at Tim in the glowering way most people thought was anger, but the rest of them knew was just his weird way of expressing concern.

“I didn’t think it worth mentioning,” Tim replied, fighting the desire to slouch until he slipped under the table away from this conversation.

Tucker snorted. “You and Danny really are perfect for one another. He would always hide or power through his injuries and exhaustion, more worried for everyone else even if he was on the verge of collapse. Good thing you had a ghost around to make sure he was getting the proper treatment.”

Tim clenched his fork tight enough that he might just bend it. Danny was stiff as a board and turning his head to glare at Tucker anew. And by now, the rest of the table had definitely noticed Danny’s change in demeanor. They were all silent, deciphering the body language of Tucker and Danny while also parsing through the last few minutes of conversation for clues.

Duke – bless him for trying – attempted to salvage the situation by addressing Tucker with a joking tone, “Jason prefers the term ‘zombie’ actually.”

Tucker opened his mouth to contradict Duke but must have finally noticed the curious gazes of Tim’s family on him, as well as the glaring of his best friend. Tucker closed his mouth slowly upon realizing his mistake.

Alfred took this moment to re-enter the room, a freshwater pitcher in his hands to re-fill everyone’s glasses.

Too late, Tim realized Dick had been strangely silent through the conversation. Only as he began to speak did Tim notice his brother had his detective-face on. “I don’t think either of you ever mentioned that Alfred was there too during Phantom’s first visit.”

And for the first time in years – the last time being when it was announced Jason was still alive – Alfred’s hand slipped. Or probably more accurately, he momentarily lost control of his tangibility. The water pitcher fell. The butler caught it before it could collide with the table, but water poured out and still splashed the tablecloth and Barbara’s arm. Very uncharacteristic of Alfred, and nearly everyone at the table knew it.

Bruce stood. “Alfred?” He asked, his tone low with concern.

“Apologies, Miss Barbara, for splashing you,” Alfred murmured. His gaze did not meet anyone else’s.

“It’s fine, Alfred. Are you alright? You never slip.”

Danny’s laugh was tight and forced. “Nonsense. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Do not lump Pennyworth in with the plebian majority, Fenton,” Damian said. But his usual bite wasn’t in it, also staring at Alfred with concern.

Oh, God, everything was devolving. Tim knew Danny would jinx them.  

Damian and Bruce had twin looks of concern. Dick was also looking concerned, but with a tight smile instead of a frown. Danny was back to glaring at Tucker. Cass was watching their two guests out of the corner of her eye. Steph was noticing Cass watching, and her brow was furrowed with suspicion. Duke was staring intently at Tim, looking to him to resolve the situation.  And Jason was leaning back, watching this whole exchange like one of his Spanish soap operas, recognizing the tension of something about to break.

Tim leaned into the cold and calculating side of him he recognized from the few lessons his mother had bestowed on him to act as a proper heir to Drake Industries. He would need every scrap of his mother’s cold aloofness to lie to his entire family in one go. Danny whipped his head around, likely feeling the shift in Tim’s emotions. He wondered what they felt like to Danny while he was like this? Could Danny still detect his anxiety or were his emotions inaccessible, like the armor Tim always envisioned when erecting his “Drake mask”?

Tim opened his mouth, ready with a quip to de-escalate the situation and a mis-direct that he knew would devolve the conversation into an argument. It would mean letting go of some blackmail material, but worth it for Alfred’s sake.

But Alfred looked at Tim sorrowfully. He could likely see the walls Tim was erecting. And instead of letting Tim do what a Drake does best, he spoke first. “There is something I have neglected to tell all of you. And while I have been waiting for the proper moment, I have merely used that as an excuse to procrastinate the inevitable. There is never a perfect moment. Not for this.”

Tim shut his mouth slowly. Was Alfred really going to tell them now? After one measly slip?

Everyone’s eyes were on Alfred now. Under the table, Danny reached for Tim’s hand. And even though it put a chink in his armor, Tim let Danny take and squeeze it.

“I – ” Alfred choked. Alfred never choked. He took a seat at the end of the table where the other head would sit. Duke and Tim exchanged weighted looks as the family around them grew increasingly more concerned.

“Oh God, are you dying?!” Steph exclaimed.

A strangled noise escaped Bruce’s throat.

“Steph!” Dick chastised.

Alfred straightened in his chair, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “To be dying I would have to be alive in the first place,” he replied.

The room was chockfull with emotions of confusion and concern. The pieces were there, but no one wanted to acknowledge that one of their most trusted and loyal members might be keeping such a grave secret from them all. Danny next to Tim whined in sympathy and squeezed Tim’s hand all the tighter.

“I – Perhaps it is better to show you all.” Alfred closed his eyes, and when he opened them anew, they were solid dark-red and glowing. Around Alfred, the green glow he had apparently been suppressing all these years radiated off of him. Otherwise, Alfred looked just about the same as he always did.

“Ghost?” Cass signed.

Alfred nodded.

The reactions were mixed. And both Tucker and Danny winced at the onslaught of emotions. Tim could only barely feel them, like a swarm of bees buzzing nearby – annoying, but not overwhelming. But he remembered what emotions had felt like in a core piece, intense emotions crashing over and through him like an ocean wave.

Jason was likely unaffected only because his emotions were so volatile too. He stood, chair nearly flying back, hurt, confusion and anger competing for dominance. Bruce was a whole tidal wave of grief. And from everyone else there was some mixture of Jason’s hurt, Bruce’s grief, and their own individual cocktails of emotions.

Alfred bore all these emotions stoically. Like always. Perhaps the ghost was simply used to onslaughts of emotions from so many times of stress and sorrow during his existence. “Cass deducted correctly. I am a ghost. A neverborn to be precise, and the protective spirit of the Wayne family.”

Jason’s eyes flooded with green in the iris, Pit Rage rearing its ugly head. He snarled, and only Danny’s core screeching like a skate snowplowing on the ice stilled him from doing something he’d regret. In his brief moment of clarity, Jason stormed from the dining room.

Danny sighed. “I’ll go after him. I have to make sure the corrupted ectoplasm doesn’t spawn back.”

Tim ached as Danny slipped his hand away and followed after Jason. Dick looked like he wanted to follow too, but stayed, wanting to hear more from Alfred and knowing his presence would be ill-received in Jason’s Pit-mad state.

Everyone else erupted with questions.

“How did this happen?”

“Why the secrecy?”

“Bruce, did you know?”

But it was Bruce’s croak of “How long?” that cut through them all.

Alfred’s gaze was long with grief and pain. His wrinkles looked even more pronounced than usual. “For centuries, Master Bruce.”

Bruce’s face slipped into misery momentarily, and Tim could almost see the echo of a young boy who lost his parents and was left alone all those years ago. But just as quickly, a mask snapped back in place and Bruce became unreadable to anyone except a ghost. Even Tim with the low level emotion-sensing he still retained couldn’t read anything from off of Bruce.

Alfred continued, “I was never alive the same as you all. I was spawned from intense feelings of love and loyalty in the Wayne family a long time ago. More recently, an incident with a magical artifact granted me powers beyond most spirits of this Realm. Allowing me to be tangible and visible, interacting with the living.”

“Did anyone know?” Cass signed. “Before us?”

Alfred seemed to slump. “Some. I was contemplating revealing myself to Sir Thomas and Lady Martha before…well, before.”

“And the rest of us?” Damian asked.

Alfred could not bear to look at anyone now. “Eventually, I told myself. But with the way of secrets, the longer they are kept, the more they hurt. It was only Phantom’s appearance and the family’s subsequent interest in ghostly matters that brought the consideration to mind.”

Another wave of dejection from those still gathered wafted across them.

Alfred looked back across the table at Bruce. “My boy, I only wanted to be someone you could depend on. Someone familiar. I did not – ” Alfred took a deep breath, even though everyone at the table now knew he didn’t need it. “I feared losing you.”

Bruce stood now. And much more silently than Jason had, strode from the room.

Alfred wilted.

“I always wondered why there were no medical records for you in the family files,” Babs remarked. “Even before Jason or Cass ever joined the nightlife, we had theirs. Just in case.”

Duke cleared his throat. “Surely this isn’t that much of a surprise?”

Everyone turned to look at the newest Wayne. He met their gazes bravely. Tim tried to communicate to his little brother, “you don’t have to.” But Duke ignored him. “Alfred is always here, unless he’s running errands. He rarely takes a vacation, and there’s no day he’s not working here during the week. He cleans the entire manor, while also cooking and helping downstairs. And he’s sneakier than Cass.”

“You knew?” Damian exclaimed. His eyes narrowed and the Al-Ghul scowl came out in full force. “How long?”

Duke met Damian’s gaze without flinching. “I’m a Meta who can see auras. I’ve known Alfred was a ghost from the moment I’ve met him. I just assumed you all knew.”

Cass signed, “Knew something different. Alfred doesn’t breathe. Assumed Meta.”

Dick stared off in the distance. “When I first arrived, I thought I saw you walk through my wall one night when I woke up from a nightmare. And there were times I entered the kitchen and you seemed to just appear behind me. I thought you were the one who taught B stealth for the longest time.”

Alfred shook his head. “Not at all. I was less powerful in those days. When you were in distress, I didn’t bother summoning the power to be tangible enough to open the door when I could simply walk through the wall and get to you faster. And I was often invisible unless specifically needed.”

Dick’s face went through a flurry of changes. His breaths came short and fast, swallowing anger and anxiety. Tim could only wait as Alfred continued through his explanation until it all bubbled over, and Dick stood. Fingers twitched, likely itching to fling himself on his gymnastics bars or reach for escrima sticks to spar. He practically sprinted from the room.

“Grayson!” Damian called out. When Dick didn’t even look back, he followed his favorite brother from the room.

“What changed?” Cass signed in wake of another two Waynes leaving.

Alfred spared a small smile for Cass, despite Dick’s reaction. “My dear, you all did. I am a spirit who is fueled by the love and protection of my Fraid – my family. Before Master Richard, the only family I had to speak of was a grieving boy more concerned with vengeance than protection. Master Richard – and you all – changed that.”

“Tim has been awfully quiet this whole time,” Steph pointed out, voice sharp like a Batarang, piercing through the almost conciliatory moment. “You’re the one who always has a million questions.”

And Tim looked to Duke, who had spoken up on Alfred’s behalf even at the risk of the family’s wrath turning on him. “I found out when Phantom first came to the cave. He – well, Danny kind of spilled the beans from the get-go. And I began researching things on my own.”

Steph glared. Barbara wasn’t looking too favorably at him either.

“It was not my secret to tell,” Tim insisted.

“Tim protected Alfred. Just like he would our secrets,” Cass signed at Steph and Barbara.

“Oh sure. Take his side.” Steph shoved away from the table. She stormed away too.

Cass sighed softly, a sentiment echoed by Alfred.

“Well, this has been enlightening. Seems like dinner is over. Mind if I pack a to-go box, Alfred?”

“Not at all Miss Barbara,” Alfred said. “I’ll prepare you one.” He stood and walked to the kitchen, eyes flickering back to their normal dark brown irises. The green aura vanished. Babs followed him to the kitchen, their voices too low for Tim to hear what they were talking about.

That left four at the table: Duke, Cass, Tucker and Tim.

“So are dinners around here always like this? Because that was some serious drama over a spilled pitcher,” Tucker remarked, practically scraping the dregs of soup still remaining.

“At least there wasn’t any bloodshed this time,” Duke offered. But the joke fell flat at a table that suddenly felt far too empty and quiet.

“So…is dinner really over?” Tucker asked.

“No. Keep eating. It will…it will help Alfred. Tell him to go ahead and serve my next course. I’m going to go find Danny,” Tim announced, standing up. As he walked out of the room, he hoped whatever he and Jason were doing didn’t result in too much collateral damage.

Danny watched the exhaust of Jason’s bike dissipate after Wayne’s second eldest son sped away from the manor. They had tussled on the driveway briefly. Just enough to weaken the Pit Rage enough for Jason to maintain control. But he was still angry, and Danny couldn’t fault him for wanting to get away. Emotions were always so much harder for the dead and dead adjacent.

Nearby, some of the grass still smoked from one of Danny’s ectoblasts. He shot a bolt of ice at it, and it sizzled from the clash of temperatures.

“Good thing you’re already dead. Or Alfred would murder you for destroying his lawn in a brawl,” Tim spoke as he sat next to Danny on the front stoop.

“I think Alfred will forgive us this once for making a mess of a patch of grass,” Danny said. “Why in the Ancients’ names did he think this was the best time for a reveal?”

Tim shrugged. “It could be he was tired of hiding and felt the secrets unraveling so he’d rather just get it over with on his own terms. Personally, I think it’s because B had to learn his emotional constipation that explodes at the worst moments from somewhere. As great of a listener as Alfred is, he’s not so great at expressing himself. Cue a terrible reveal.”

Danny huffed. “More like ghosts just don’t have a good concept of timing in general. Could just be he got the urge to make a reveal for whatever reason and did so.”

“No time like the present?”

“Something like that.”

Tim hummed. “So. How did it go with Jason?”

“Did you know he’s a biter?”

Tim laughed, thankfully. Danny had felt Tim close off all his emotions during dinner and it had been a chore to keep his core from whining in distress. Especially as he wasn’t sure what had sparked Tim to do so. There must have been layers to the conversation he hadn’t recognized. Jazz had warned him not to rely too much on his empathic senses and actually listen to what people are saying. Danny was regretting not heeding her advice.

“Jason grew up on the streets of Crime Alley. Of course he’s a biter. ‘Rabies is a street rat’s greatest defense,’ as he once told Batman.”

“Back when you used to stalk them?” Danny asked with a playful nudge.

Tim huffed. “Back when I used to stalk them. I was really hoping to bring that phase of my life up the month of never.”

Danny laughed. “I already knew you were a stalker, Birdie. I am not surprised by your childhood hobbies at all. In fact, I bet it’s still your hobby considering I found you on our first date on a rooftop taking pictures.”

Danny was delighted to see Tim flush under the spoken realization. “It’s not like that anymore. I’m taking pictures of family, not stalking them.”

“Sure, sure.”

Danny looked up. Here in Bristol, the smog wasn’t near as bad as the city. But the light pollution still made it impossible to see anything except the vague twinkling of the few brightest stars. One day, he’d take Tim out to one of the Dark Sky Places and show him the constellations. They could sleep under the milky way…among other things.

“Speaking of our first date, any update on Nightmare Fuel?” Tim asked, breaking Danny from his fantasy.

Danny shook his head. “Haven’t had a chance to follow up on his case yet. Anything on your end?”

Tim bit his lip briefly and Danny nearly shivered at the adorableness of his boyfriend’s thinking face. “Not much. I…I might have a lead.”

“Oh?”

“The apartment’s last owner didn’t give me any leads. She’s young, single, and only recently moved to this city about six months ago. So I looked a little further back. Before that, it was owned by a Marsha Powell, also single, but divorced. She and her ex-husband had one son, but Dad got full custody in the divorce.”

“You don’t hear of that very often unless the Mom did something bad.”

Tim nodded. “Allegedly, she had an affair with one of the kid’s teachers. Ex-husband made claims of other discretions and drug abuse, but they weren’t substantiated.”

“What’s the kid’s age now?”

“Sixteen. Or he should be.”

Danny’s heart sunk. “Should be?”

Tim hummed and bit his lip again. “Kid vanished seven months ago. Ex-husband blamed the wife. Marsha Powell moved out of state, opening up the apartment for the last occupant.”

“What is the kid’s name?” Danny asked.

“Chase Langley. Average student, athletic. Had a little article about him in the newspaper even. Hopeful story about a kid who nearly died from a hit and run recovering and becoming a Track star.”

“Wait, wait. He nearly died?”

“Heart stopped for about fifteen seconds.”

“And he disappeared?”

Tim nodded. “Do you think his near death had something to do with his disappearance?”

Danny wanted to say yes, but right now he only had a hunch. And while he knew Tim would take his hunches seriously, he didn’t want them to jump to a wrong conclusion either. “It might. I think we need to talk to Nightmare Fuel. How would you feel about a trip to the Realms?”

Tim’s eyes widened with excitement. Anxiety and curiosity poured off of him in equal amounts. “I think it’s a great idea. Especially since things are going to be tense around Gotham with Alfred’s reveal.”

Danny grinned. “Then let’s go.”

Tim shook his head. “Not until you give me a crash course. I’m not walking into a new dimension blind. And we have to finish dinner. It’s the least I can do for Alfred right now.”

“Alright then. Tomorrow. Get ready to be schooled tonight, Birdie.”

Tim leaned over to kiss Danny briefly, and with the curiosity sparking around him it felt almost electric in the best way possible. “You’re on, Ghost boy.”

Chapter Text

Jason awoke to the next morning to Red Robin – sans mask – sitting on his kitchen counter and sipping a to-go cup of coffee since Jason didn’t have a coffee maker in this particular safehouse. Because certain Bats and Birds weren’t supposed to know it existed.

“Get out,” Jason greeted.

“Good morning to you too,” Tim remarked.

Jason stormed into his kitchen and began to rifle through his fridge. Despite brawling with Danny last night after Alfred’s reveal and then beating up every mugger he could find, Jason still felt wound tight with anger. So…baking. Catherine used to make blueberry muffins on her better days. Which would have to do, because most other recipes reminded Jason of sitting in the kitchen of Wayne Manor with… didn’t matter. Blueberry muffins it would be. And a certain trespassing bird wouldn’t be getting any.

 Tim was silent while Jason slammed cabinets as he prepped for baking. But the Bird didn’t take the hint to leave.

Jason looked over his shoulder while he mixed dry ingredients to see Tim on his phone, texting away. Getting comfortable as if Jason weren’t a wrong breath away from breaking his nose.

“How did you find this safehouse?” Jason asked with a scowl.

Tim hummed distractedly. “I extrapolated from previous data and your current operations that you’d have a safehouse somewhere on this block. Did some digging on current occupants in the vicinity. Pretty obvious when I saw an apartment with a view to one of Red Hood’s known warehouses listed under Todd Graves.” Tim looked up after that. “If you don’t want me to find you, don’t try to squeeze a death pun into an alias.”

Jason looked away from Tim’s smugness was probably sporting. He focused on cracking eggs into a bowl instead.

“I came to help,” Tim finally said while Jason began to cut butter into the dry mixture.

Jason wished he were using a mixer so he would be able to drown out Tim’s voice.

“Help with what?” Jason spat instead.

Tim clasped his hands in front of him on the counter, a habit Jason recognized for when Tim was nervous and didn’t want to fidget. “Alfred,” he said.

Jason felt green at the edges of his vision. “I don’t want to hear it. And I suggest you get out before you get me any angrier.”

Tim sighed. “I know you feel betrayed, and – “

Jason slammed a measuring cup against the counter and it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. “You have no fucking idea how I feel!”

“Then explain it to me!”

“I don’t owe you shit!”

“I – ” Tim put his head down and screamed into his arm before looking up. “You’re right. You don’t owe me anything. But I do think you are owed answers. And I might be able to answer them.”

Jason glared at Tim. And of course, Tim – because he had the survival instincts of a free floating balloon – just met his glare back instead of fleeing like any sane human being. “You knew,” Jason accused.

Tim’s face spasmed briefly, but he didn’t look away. “I did. On Phantom’s first visit to the cave, he called Alfred a ‘protection spirit.’”

Jason snorted. “Protection spirit, my ass. I’ve been some weird ectoplasmic-poisoned monster for years and he didn’t do shit.”

“He asked Phantom to look at you.”

“Wow. He outsourced. After years of me dealing with the Pts on my own.”

Tim bristled. “It’s not like that. Alfred admitted he wouldn’t have been able to help you without tearing himself apart.”

“Oh and you’re suddenly the expert?”

“No!” Tim shouted. Then took a deep breath before moderating his tone. “No, I’m not the expert. But I know you, Jason. You’ll ignore and avoid Alfred while wallowing in your own self-hatred until some life or death scenario crops up and you’re forced to interact with him.”

Jason saw green at the edge of his vision. Tim always had a way of digging under people’s skin. Especially Jason’s. Especially when Jason couldn’t refute anything Tim had said.

“Fuck you, Replacement. Get out.”

“Oh, and now we’re back to juvenile nicknames. Great.”

“Get out!” Jason seethed.

Tim glared, but hopped off the kitchen stool regardless. “Talk to Alfred, Jason. Or next I sic Cass on you.”

Jason clenched the counter with white knuckles while Red Robin exited his living room window and latched it behind him. Jason didn’t so much as let himself blink until his younger brother had grappled away. His hands shook with the urge to strangle someone.

The afternoon following the dinner with Danny and Tucker, the atmosphere of the Bat Cave could only be described as tense as Duke returned from patrol. Alfred was nowhere to be found, Damian was a flurry of movements with his katana, while Steph sweated out her frustrations with a punching bag. Dick was brooding in front of the Bat Computer, foot tapping restlessly as he reviewed cave footage of Alfred.

“Is B around?” Duke asked, as he headed for the showers.

“Why don’t you ask your omnipotent ghost pal?” Steph snarked.

Duke rolled his eyes once his back was turned. He’d been receiving passive aggressive comments all day for “keeping important secrets.” Mostly because he was at least around. Alfred had made himself scarce after last night. And Tim had excused himself from work and patrol to go with Danny to the Infinite Realms this afternoon.

Despite the entire family dynamic in disarray, Duke followed his usual after-patrol routine. After his shower, he headed back upstairs to the kitchen for quick snack before he would start on his homework. Amazingly, he found both Cass and Alfred sitting at the kitchen island. Neither were saying anything, but Duke had a hunch they were communicating fine.

“Master Duke,” Alfred greeted.

Cass signed, “hello,” followed by her special sign for Duke.

“Hi, guys. What’s good?”

Alfred moved silently to the fridge and removed a bowl of homemade hummus with an assortment of freshly cut vegetables.

Duke chewed slowly on a carrot before venturing into hazardous territory for a Bat: emotions. “How are you holding up, Alfred?” He asked.

“I am giving them time,” Alfred replied. “It will take far more than one spoiled dinner for my resolve to crumble.”

Cass signed, “He is sad. Very sad.”

Duke grimaced. “They’ll come around. They’re just…” Duke trailed off, but he was certain Alfred and Cass knew what he meant.

“B will forgive,” Cass spoke aloud. “He made a public announcement against Anti-Ecto Acts. As Wayne.”

Duke’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “I didn’t hear about that. That’s great!”

Alfred tried for a small smile. “His anger at me aside, Bruce will always do what is right.”

Cass shook her head. She paused, contemplating the words she wanted to use before defaulting back to signing. “B will always protect those he loves. To never lose us again.”

Duke nodded. “She’s right. B loves you, even if he doesn’t forgive you yet. And he’ll do anything to make sure the GIW doesn’t get ahold of you.”

Alfred gave them a grateful nod, full of British stoicism, but the ghost’s aura betrayed him. Duke saw it pulse, a little brighter than it was before.

Cass jumped from her stool and embraced Alfred in a hug. Then gestured for Duke to join her. And how could Duke say no to hugs?

“Children, this is unnecessary. I am fine.”

“You’re not,” Cass said. “But that’s okay.”

“We’ve got your back, Alfred,” Duke reassured. “Until everyone else comes around.”

Tim’s first thought of the Infinite Realms was “holy shit, that’s a lot of green.” Now, Tim had seen a lot of strange things in his time. He had voyaged space, trekked around the world, and he’d time travelled to the future. Yet, the peculiarity of Infinite Realms made the top of his list of strangest places.

For starters, there was no ground. Just a green and black void swirling around them interspersed with the shine of violet stars. Various floating doors of all types and the occasional island floating in the distance were scattered throughout the space.

Danny glitched beside Tim and shifted into a form very similar to what Tim had seen in the Watchtower. Except here in the Realms, Phantom’s claws seemed sharper, his eyes even brighter, and his entire aura pulsed with excitement. “What do you think?” He asked. And Tim realized Danny wasn’t just excited, he was nervous.

Tim remembered what he’d learned of Haunts from ghosts, and knew that to an extent, the entirety of the Realms was Danny’s Haunt. He also knew he couldn’t lie to ghosts. Or at least, he hadn’t figured out how yet. “It’s weird,” he decided on. “I think I just need to get used to it.”

Danny’s other hand with the extra long claw that ripped portals into thin air and bore his Ring of Rage rubbed the back of his neck like an anxious high schooler. “Yeah…that sounds about right.”

Tim winced. He hadn’t meant it like that. He looked over the vastness again and could make out rainbow streaks of light like otherworldly comets fly by. “A good weird though,” he added. “Reminds me of you.”

Phantom shoved Tim with his shoulder, but he relaxed at Tim’s correction all the same. “There’s so much I want to show you, but unfortunately the grand tour will have to wait until I figure out a way for you to stay here longer without long-term ectoplasmic poisoning.”

Tim nodded. That had been a concern for him too, but Danny’s doctor had apparently assured Danny that a non-liminal could exist in the Infinite Realms for up to a couple hours without long term side effects. Though Tim didn’t think he counted as non-liminal anymore. Not with the lingering empathy powers after Danny’s core healed him. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up without making Danny feel guilty though.

“So, where are we headed?” Tim asked.

“Firestorm’s Forest,” Danny explained. “I’ll ask him to cool it some while we’re there, but basically it’s an ever-burning jungle. Major hotspot for fire-core ghosts.” Danny smirked with his pun.

Tim rolled his eyes. “So it’s an entire island on fire. Great. And how are you going to ensure I don’t burn to death?”

“Don’t touch the ground?” Danny suggested.

Tim stared.

“Look, I said I’ll talk to him so the ambient temperature is manageable for you, but there’s no guarantee an on-fire island will be able to be anything but burning hot. However, you’re living so you have the perk of not being affected by Ghost Zone physics. It’s like you are the ghost here. So, you can walk through walls, fly, you name it.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Danny took Tim’s hand, pulling him gently along as they floated. “Ever flown on your own before?”

Tim shook his head. “Not unless you count grappling.”

“I’d consider that more falling with style. You’ll get used to it quick though. Just remember that physics doesn’t really work for you here, so you won’t have any resistance to slow you down when you want to stop.”

Tim stared. “You weren’t kidding about the physics. How the fuck do I slow down then?”

Danny grinned. “Just will it.” And then, like the absolute fiend his boyfriend had proven to be, he pulled Tim along and they were off, fast as any Kryptonian.

Tim squawked at the abrupt movement, but as he got used to racing through the bizarre dimension, it quickly turned to laughter. No wind resistance or friction meant the only sense Tim could feel that they were moving were the doors and islands blurring past them. Tim still thought he preferred grappling with the wind in his hair, but this was fun too. And Danny’s legs had transformed to a bright comet tail of light that wiggled behind him like an over-excited tadpole, which was frankly adorable.

The Realms seemed mostly empty until they passed close by islands. Assorted ghosts flying around nearby waved and called out. Mostly greetings of “Phantom!” and “High King!” but there were some who challenged him to matches. And one notable couple flying by on an old bike with a shadow trailing behind them who called Danny “Baby Pop,” and told him to eat Realms dirt before flying off.

“Kitty, Johnny and Shadow,” Danny explained. “They were some of my original rogues. We get along fine now, but they love to tease me.”

“The shadow was a ghost too?”

Danny grinned. “Oh yeah. He’s actually the most powerful of the trio.” And Danny went on to explain a ghost who could literally turn other people’s luck for the worse. Tim felt a little out of his depth. Especially when that transitioned into his explanation of a reality-warping ghost who could grant wishes. What had the GIW been thinking when they decided to antagonize a whole dimension full of beings this powerful?

Conversation of Phantom’s various rogues when he still defended Amity Park lasted them the rest of the journey. Tim smelled Firestorm’s Forest long before he saw it, the sharp acridity of a forest fire smoking his nostrils. Danny had not been exaggerating when he said the island was literally a burning jungle. Smoke drifted over the island in a constant dark grey cloud. Below, a dense jungle was alight with flames. They flew overhead, and even from hundreds of feet above the island, Tim could still feel the heat.

Danny led them toward the center of the island where a huge black and gold ziggurat rose above the jungle, flanked by two slightly smaller ones. And as they grew closer, Tim could see a whole town of square-ish buildings clustered around the ziggurats. Danny flew them to the top level of the largest one. His core pulsed with the shudder of a glacier and the thrumming roar of what Tim imagined a star to sound like.

Two ghosts emerged from high, double doors covered in gold designs unlike anything Tim had ever seen. Both of them had flames atop their heads instead of hair and held flaming spears. One was a skeleton with flaming eyes and wore leather armor, while the other looked like it inspired a foot soldier of the terracotta warriors from the tomb of Emperor Qin Shihuang his Dad had taught him about. Except that his bun was aflame, and he had the legs of a bird.

“King Phantom,” the Ancient Chinese warrior ghost greeted.

“Hi, Xin. Hi, Spearta. I request an audience with Firestorm for entry into his Haunt and to speak with one of his Fraid members,” Danny greeted.

“Right this way,” the flaming skeleton said. “Firestorm has just returned from a hunt.”

They were led into the ziggurat and Tim was blown away with the opulence of the space. Every wall was carved into scenes, gilded with gold and precious gems. In the center of a grand room was a turquoise pool of water, out of place in the on-fire island palace. But in the center of the pool was a deep brazier rising out with a healthy bonfire stretching towards the ceiling. Around the room, other ghosts rested on couches and benches. They watched Phantom and Tim enter, chittering excitedly to each other in languages Tim couldn’t even identify, let alone understand, or in ghost speak Tim also couldn’t understand.

Around the brazier on the other side of the room, the grandest ghost of them all lay across a couch, his lower half a long, turquoise-scaled snake tail. His upper half was human-shaped covered in loose fabric and adornments of jewels and feathers over every possible spare bit of skin, topped with a heavy headdress which sprouted green feathers like flames. He entertained some other ghosts around him with juggling fireballs. Occasionally, his mouth would open to reveal huge fangs and a forked tongue before he spat another fireball into the air to the cheers of his crowd.

Glittering eyes glowing turquoise caught sight of Phantom and Tim, and the fireballs exploded into mini fireworks. “PHANTOM!” the ghost boomed, standing up, and towering over them, nearly ten feet tall, and that was only with two-thirds of his snake tail still on the ground.  He slithered over to them.

Phantom jumped and immediately tackled the larger ghost, twisting himself to wrap his arms around his neck and cling to the ghost’s back. “Firestorm!”

Tim stepped back as the larger ghost’s snake tail thrashed. His core emanated pops and crackles like a campfire, while Danny responded with a whistling sound of cold winds and the snap of cracking ice. Tim had no idea what they were telling one another, but the atmosphere between them felt mirthful, while curiosity wafted gently around them from all the other ghosts gathered.

Firestorm and Danny tussled briefly before Danny flipped himself off the ghost and landed next to Tim. “Firestorm, I’d like to introduce you to Tim. No play-fighting, he’s living.”

Tim stepped forward and bowed his head in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Firestorm hunched over some to get a better view of Tim, long ears dangling with weighted ear plugs of gold and turquoise snakes. He sniffed deeply. “He smells of you, Great One.”

“Ugh, how did you even learn of that nickname?” Danny grumbled.

“Frostbite and I do not agree on much, but we can always bond over your mischief,” Firestorm replied. He scrutinized Tim more closely. “You don’t just smell of Phantom, you…” Firestorm smiled, and it was absolutely terrifying, with canine teeth and lips that spread wider than should be possible. “You look of him.”

Tim glanced at his boyfriend who was tense under Firestorm’s scrutiny. Tim looked back over to the fire ghost. “What does that mean?” Tim asked.

Firestorm straightened back up and let his smile moderate into a smirk. “Been many millennia since I was mortal, but even I can recognize the marks of copulation. And I doubt many humans have fangs.”

Danny choked while Tim felt his face heat. His hand drifted to the side of his neck that he knew Danny had been kissing earlier in the day.

“Ancients, Firestorm!” Danny groaned, his head in his hands.

“Not to mention he bears the marks of liminality from your blessing,” Firestorm added, unconcerned with Tim and Danny’s embarrassment.

Danny looked up, eyes flashing with panic. “What?” His voice was tight, and his aura pulsed with concern.

“The liminality of him. Likely from whatever made his soul smell of you in the first place. What have you been doing with your mortals, Great One?” Firestorm leered playfully.

Danny looked at Tim, his entire form stiff while the air around him dropped. It felt nice in the blistering heat of Firestorm’s island. Though some of the nearby ghosts clucked in irritation with the cooler temperature.

“I didn’t…he’s not supposed to…”

Tim stepped towards Danny and took his hands in an effort to calm down his spiraling boyfriend. “Don’t worry, I already knew.”

Danny whined in agitation. “You aren’t supposed to be liminal. I just wanted to heal you.”

Tim shrugged. He was actually surprised with how calm he was over the whole thing. He was sure Justice League Dark would have plenty to say about him now contaminated with death magic. And Bruce would have a fit. “I mean, nothing has really changed. I can just sense emotions better. Which is honestly more of a boon than a problem. I’m already so much better at detecting bullshit.”

“But it will still change you. And if you stick around me long enough, I’m sure it will only make it worse!”

“A risk I’m willing to take.”

Danny whined again. So Tim just pulled him close into an embrace. “It’s okay, Darling.”

Danny shivered under Tim’s touch right before gripping him tight in a return hug. “Darling?”

“Well, you call me ‘Birdie’ all the time. I figured I needed a pet-name for you too. What do you think?”

Danny hummed non-committedly.

“How about ‘Starlight’?”

“I like that one,” Danny mumbled.

Tim grinned. “Thought as much, space nerd.”

Firestorm cooed, “You and your consort are adorable.”

Which prompted a whole new wave of blushing from Tim and stuttered protests from Danny about how “they were not that serious.” Tim could almost hear the silent “yet” at the end of it and chose not to comment.

“And we’re talking more about the liminality later,” Danny promised Tim.

Firestorm spoke, “Consort or not, why have you come, Great One? A hunt? Or I know you have a preference to visit the phoenixes. A few have rebirthed recently.”

“Actually, we came to visit Nightmare Fuel. Tim investigates crimes in the mortal realm, and he was looking into the cause of Nightmare Fuel’s death,” Danny explained.

Firestorm raised a flaming eyebrow. “And he knows the rules?”

“I’ve been briefed,” Tim assured him. Danny had already told him how to talk to ghosts. And warned Firestorm would be especially protective because Nightmare Fuel was such a young ghost.

“Very well.” Firestorm closed his eyes and hummed. It took nearly a minute before Firestorm opened his eyes again.

“Nightmare Fuel is currently training with Magmara on the Volcanic cliffs,” he announced. “My haunt is open to you both.”

Danny bowed his head and Tim echoed the motion. “Thank you for your hospitality and help, Firestorm.”

“Next time, we’ll go on a proper hunt. And bring Tim with you.”

“Maybe if you can turn down the heat,” Danny teased.

Firestorm laughed, bright and cackling like a wildfire. “Ha! Away with you, ice imp.”

Tim and Danny found Nightmare Fuel easily. It helped that the Volcanic Cliffs were easy to identify, rising above the general forest and glowing from the lava slowly running down the sides in rivulets like honey drippings.

Nightmare Fuel was a small, dark blur flying around another ghost who was tall and stocky, skin a deep char black with veins of glowing red and orange running all over her skin. She lobbed ectoblasts at the smaller, shadowy ghost weaving around her.

Pops and crackles emanated from the core of Nightmare Fuel, reminiscent of a campfire from mission Tim had once taken with Young Justice that led to them living out their camping dreams of s’mores and ghost stories. While the other ghost’s core thrummed like the tremor of a small earthquake.

“What are they doing?” Tim asked.

“Training, technically. But it’s more like playing right now. Watch,” Danny explained.

Nightmare Fuel dodged another blast and used his momentum to flip over, and with a screech spat green flames at the other ghost.

The broader ghost emanated the sound of something thick and syrupy bubbling while she dodged the brief fire burst. Nightmare Fuel looked awfully proud of himself as he flew in a loop.

Danny’s core called out, sounding like the soft smack of a snowball that prompts a fight.

Nightmare Fuel broke away from the other ghost, core chirping as he zoomed towards Phantom. As he approached, his oil slick trail behind him burst into flame, as did his eyes, green flames in the sockets that were usually voids.

Danny chittered happily in response, ducking and batting playfully as the younger ghost attacked. Tim watched fondly as Danny wrestled with the smaller ghost.

Meanwhile, the other ghost oozed towards Tim. “You are part of King Phantom’s living Fraid?”

Tim nodded. He floated about five feet off the ground, which meant he was precisely at eye-level with the giant lava-themed ghost standing even taller than Firestorm had.

“Yes. I’m Tim.”

“Magmara,” the other ghost greeted, her voice low and gravely.

“So, I have to ask, are you a fire core ghost? Because you are very…lava-y,” Tim remarked.

Magmara’s mouth – or what Tim assumed was a mouth but was more of a horizontal break in the rockiness of Magmara’s face – smiled. “Lava core actually, part of the Earth core family.”

“Fascinating. Does that make Phantom with his ice core part of the water family?” Tim asked.

“Yes. Though Ice cores consider themselves more distinct, whereas many lava core ghosts will identify more closely with other earth cores, or in my case, fire cores.”

Meanwhile, Phantom and Nightmare Fuel’s combat was winding down. As they approached Tim and Magmara, Danny was grinning. “Your curiosity is adorable.”

Tim flushed, but returned, “as if watching you play with ghostlings isn’t equally adorable.”

Unfortunately, Danny wasn’t flustered. He just grinned wider.

“An honor to see you, Great One,” Magmara greeted.

“Likewise, Magmara. Tim, let me introduce you to Nightmare Fuel. Properly this time now that he’s not in rage frenzy.”

Nightmare Fuel crackled at Phantom, who replied with the sound of snow crunching.

Nightmare Fuel turned back to Tim and his green aura brightened, the flames in his empty eye sockets growing wider. He truly was a terrifying ghost to behold. Still all dark with oil-slick shine. And when he opened his mouth in a smile, needle-like teeth bared at Tim.

“Hi, Nightmare Fuel. I’m – ”

“Re’ Robin,” Nightmare Fuel rasped.

Both Magmara and Phantom startled, right before immediately cooing. “Those were his first non-ghost speak words!” Danny explained. “Good job, kid. Takes most ghosts ages to speak anything but ghost.”

Nightmare Fuel batted away Phantom’s attempts to pat his head. Then he drifted towards Tim and began to core speak, popping and chittering like a spark on dry wood. Feelings of guilt and excitement fizzled off the young ghost.

“He’s apologizing for attacking you and explaining how he’s a really big fan of the Robins,” Danny translated.

“No hard feelings,” Tim reassured. It took him some considerable effort to look in the fire and void eyes of the ghost, but he managed. “I’m sorry we – ”

“Nope. None of that,” Danny cut off. “Remember the briefing.”

Tim hadn’t realized even just apologizing for not being able to save someone counted as talking about a ghost’s death. But it made sense.

Danny and Nightmare Fuel spoke back and forth some more.

“I will leave Nightmare Fuel in your hands, Great One. A pleasure to meet you, Tim.” Magmara bowed her head and then began to let herself slide away down the cliff face, surfing down one of the lava flows while Tim waved good-bye.

“Nightmare Fuel’s willing to talk about his death,” Danny translated. “No questions though. He still has a lot of gaps in his memory.”

“Thank you,” Tim replied. “Mind if I record us?” He asked, pulling out a recorder that Tucker had ecto-fied that morning.

Nightmare Fuel shook his head. Then, he began to speak. Danny translated as they went along, “He doesn’t remember much still. And a lot of the details are fuzzy. He liked running. In the mornings.”

Nightmare Fuel sobered, grief welling up around him and dimming the flames of his tail and in his eyes.

Danny sucked in a concerned breath as “He was running when someone took him. He remembers white. And thinking it was weird.”

Danny exchanged a look with Tim. They were both thinking it: Guys In White.

Danny and Nightmare Fuel continued. “He was trapped a very long time. He remembers needles. And green liquid. A lot of pain, anger, and exhaustion.”

Danny rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. They were experimenting on him. Those bastards.”

Nightmare Fuel stuttered, likely agitated by Phantom’s own emotions welling up.

“We can take a pause,” Tim offered. “You said you liked running?” Tim had a hunch, and his hunches were usually correct.

Nightmare Fuel’s aura brightened some. “Yes,” Danny translated. “He remembers running was important. It meant perseverance. Accomplishment. And a lot of comradery. Victory.” Danny furrowed his brow. “You think Nightmare Fuel used to be…that kid we talked about yesterday?”

“I think it’s a decent theory. Track star gone missing, near-death experience in his past, and now Nightmare Fuel’s memories.

Nightmare Fuel popped questioningly.

“No, I’m not going to tell you. Better to figure it out on your own, kid. Ghost psychology 101,” Danny replied.

Nightmare Fuel huffed, and yeah, that reeked of teenager. He spat harmless green sparks at Danny.

“And he just said he wants to get this over with.”

Nightmare Fuel spoke again, his sounds growing more agitated as he continued. Danny translated. “He lost track of how long he was captured. But other people were brought in too. He remembers the screams. He remembered...oh Ancients, he saw Scarecrow too.”

“As a patient or – ”

“No. Working with the GIW.”

“That’s not good.”

Nightmare Fuel huffed impatiently.

“Right, sorry. Continue,” Tim prompted.

“Scarecrow changed the green stuff. He remembers a death. And his captors were disappointed. And then he remembers pain and fear unlike anything else. Something went wrong though. Scarecrow was angry. As were the others. Everyone was being moved. But…but not him.”

Nightmare Fuel’s core rumbled then roared, but it wasn’t a fierce anger, it was a broken and pain-filled cry. Then it transitioned into a wail. Danny rushed over to Nightmare Fuel and pulled him into an embrace, so his face was against his chest. Just in time it seemed, because the wail kept growing louder and louder. Tim still had to clap his hands over his ears as the wail was joined with shrieks and cries that activated a primal fear within him, even though it was muffled. Danny winced as if the wail were literally paining him as if being directly hit from one of Black Canary’s screams. It felt like an eternity before the wail tapered off; Nightmare Fuel trembled in the aftershocks while Danny held him tight.

“He died screaming,” Danny murmured. “That’s what a scream like that means. A ghostly wail. It’s one of the most powerful attacks a ghost can have. But it returns them to the moment of death. And the wail is all the anguish of the memory pouring out of them.”

Tim’s chest tightened in grief for the teenager caught by genocidal fanatics and tested on by one of Gotham’s worst rogues. In Phantom’s arms, the ghostling was dim and swayed in Danny’s lap.

“It also exhausts a ghost and uses a lot of their power. I don’t think Nightmare Fuel will answer any more questions today.”

“What was the rest of what he said?” Tim asked softly while Danny rubbed Nightmare Fuel’s back and fed him some of his ectoplasm.

“Everyone was afraid of Batman finding them. They evacuated. Nightmare Fuel was deemed a failure. They left him behind high on whatever bastardized ectoplasm-infused fear toxin they’d been testing on him. And then burned the building with him inside it. I assume to destroy any trace of their experiments. After Nightmare Fuel’s death, he sought comfort. He recognized his Mom’s new neighborhood. But he couldn’t find her. I’m guessing that he felt abandoned all over again. It would have caused a strong enough reaction that set the apartment complex on fire. And it would explain why he was still mad with grief and fear and loneliness when you found him.”

“The Bats had detained Scarecrow around the time I encountered Nightmare Fuel,” Tim recalled.

“Ancients, Tim, what the fuck are the GIW doing? Experimenting on living people? Working with rogues?”

“I don’t know. But they’re going to pay. We won’t stop until every aspect of their organization is gone. I promise, Danny.”

They sat for a while on a ledge. Well, they hovered above the ledge, letting Nightmare Fuel rest and accumulate enough ectoplasm until he could be on his way. Tim entertained the young ghost with exploits of the various Robins while Danny translated the ghostling’s occasional question. It also allowed Danny to calm down, clearly agitated from the conversation.

Eventually Nightmare Fuel was strong enough to drift back towards the town on Firestorm’s island. Tim and Danny sat on the Volcanic Cliffs a while longer, just processing all they had learned. Until Tim noticed Danny rubbing chest idly “What’s wrong?”

Danny’s brow scrunched. “I’m not sure. It’s like a sharp pain, but it’s not mine. It’s…I think it’s a cry for help.” He worried at his lip a few moments.

“How can you tell?”

“A hunch. I don’t know. I get lots of feelings.

Tim repressed a sigh of frustration. There was still so much to know about ghosts. “Do you know who it’s coming from?”

“Nope. But they feel familiar.”

“Do you know where it’s coming from?”

Danny shook his head.

Tim couldn’t repress his sigh this time.

“I’m still learning how this king thing works. And as a half-ghost I have a human consciousness with ghost instincts my brain doesn’t know how to translate. Cut me some slack.”

At that moment, a new figure popped into existence on the ledge where Danny and Tim were hovering. Tim had trouble looking at him, for he seemed to shift between multiple ages. At one point an infant, and the next an old man. Then a man in the prime of his youth. A dark purple cloak on their shoulders shifted shape with the change in age, but his solid eyes remained constant with a jagged scar crossing over one. His deep blue aura and a clock-topped staff also remained consistent through the changes in shape and size.

Danny perked to attention with the arrival of the new ghost. “Clockwork?”

“Danny,” the ghost greeted with a nod.

“Tim, this is Clockwork, Ancient of Time. I’d call him one of my mentors, but he’s more like a cryptic uncle.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir Tim.”

Tim was surprised when Clockwork shifted into someone his own age and stuck out a hand to shake. Mostly habit meant he took it to shake without much hesitation. “Uh, just Tim, actually.”

“Lady Gotham would be offended if I did not refer to you with proper respect,” Clockwork countered.

“What does – ”

“Don’t bother, Birdie. He’s worse at explaining things than I am. He’ll just smile smugly because he’s referencing something that hasn’t happened yet and you won’t know what he means until later.”

“You know the future?”

Clockwork shifted into an old man. “More precisely I know everything that has happened, is happening, and can happen,” Clockwork replied. “But further explanations can wait for later. My King, you are needed in Gotham.”

Danny’s hand went back to his chest. “She’s the one calling for help, isn’t she? Guys In White?”

Clockwork nodded. “The Wayne Lar has gone to buy you time.”

Tim’s breath hitched, panic hitting him in a wave. Alfred.

Bruce might not be talking to Alfred, and the rest of the family ranged from Damian’s equally betrayed silent treatment to Cass’ acceptance, but Alfred still had his duties. The Wayne Manor pantry wasn’t going to stock itself. And there were other responsibilities Alfred had taken on over the years that took him outside his haunt. For instance, his weekly teas with Mrs. Clemson, the widow of a soldier and fellow spy Alfred had once served with when he followed a Wayne son to the European theater of World War II. When Lieutenant James Wayne had died in the Battle of Normandy, the young and spunky Everett Clemson had been there to help Alfred through his grief and pain in the failure to protect one of his Fraid. Ever since, Everett had remained a lifelong friend of Alfred’s, as had his wife, Anna, a British nurse who Everett had fallen in love with.

Everett had died twenty years ago due to heart failure. And Alfred knew Anna’s time would run out soon, though she was still holding strong at ninety-eight.

“You are tenser than usual, dear. What has you distressed?” Anna remarked over the lip of her cup, shaking slightly from her arthritis acting up. She needed both hands to hold it steady.

Alfred sighed. “You always were too perceptive for your own good.”

Anna smiled over the rim of her cup.

“I recently shared my true nature with my family under less than ideal circumstances. They are understandably upset.” Anna and Everett had long known of Alfred’s non-human nature. It was impossible to hide it after so many years of friendship. Anna had never said anything, but Alfred was sure she had wanted him to tell Bruce the truth for a long time now.

Anna set down her cup. “Secrets are always painful to reveal, but they are better aired out than kept away to fester even more.”

Alfred thumbed the handle of the delicate porcelain idly. “For this old spy, habits die hard.”

“Bullshit.” Alfred raised an eyebrow at Anna’s very American curse, unused to hearing it from the lady’s still British-accented tongue. “You may have held the occupation of spy, but you never were a spy. Neither was Everett, God rest his soul.”

“The Office of Strategic Services would have disagreed with you.”

Anna shook her head fondly. “Alfred, you were and always have been a protector. Your role as spy just allowed you to do it covertly and exercise your unique abilities a little more. I do think you enjoy your secrets a little more than you should though.”

Alfred chuckled. “As usual, you see right through me, my dear.”

Anna huffed at Alfred’s play on words. In her younger years, it probably would have earned Alfred a playful shoulder flick.

As Alfred took another sip of tea, a lash of pain pulled at his core. Before he could lose his concentration on his tangibility, Alfred set the cup down, his other hand going to the center of his chest where his core thrummed. It took him a moment to register that the pain was not anything wrong with his own core, but rather something else.  

At this stage in his existence, Alfred had many connections to many people and beings. It took him a while to sift through them to find the source of the pain. It took him longer than he would like to realize only another ectoplasmic being would be able to cry for help to his core like this, and the number of spirits in Alfred’s Fraid was not large at all.

Enough time passed that a concerned expression deepened Anna’s wrinkles. “Alfred, what’s wrong?”

“I – ” Alfred began, and then he identified the source of the pain. The shadowy but solid connection from centuries of co-existence thrummed with distress. “Lady Gotham, the spirit of the city. She is in danger.”

Anna frowned. “That does not bode well.”

“No. And the being most capable of helping her is currently not in this Realm,” Alfred replied, rubbing at his chest as he tried to send waves of comfort and calm through the bond he held with Lady Gotham.

“You’re going to help her.” It wasn’t a question. Anna knew well enough that Alfred’s nature would not let him leave one of his own in distress.

“Yes. I am sorry to cut our meeting short today, but I must take my leave.”

Anna began to push herself from her chair on wobbly knees. Very slowly she began to stand.

“Anna, don’t trouble yourself,” Alfred insisted rushing to her side. His attention was brushed aside.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think this day would come. I guess I owe Everett a fiver when I see him again,” Anna said cryptically.

“Anna?”

The old woman smirked, the playful mirth in bright green eyes Everett had fallen in love with those many years ago. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Mister Pennyworth.” She only called him that at her most mischievous, a reference to her teasing of Alfred’s proper demeanor when they first met.

“Before you aid your friend, I have to give you something. I will keep the story brief because I know the matter is urgent.” Anna shuffled across the room to the shelves that held the most valued of her and Everett’s treasures over the course of their marriage. “Not long after the war, a strange man appeared to Everett and I on our honeymoon. Though, I guess he wasn’t really a man. He told us he was like you, but with more power.”

“You weren’t surprised when I told you what I was,” Alfred remembered thinking of the day many years after the Clemsons’ marriage when he’d revealed himself to the couple after running out of excuses for his unchanging age.

Anna continued, “The stranger explained a lot about ghosts and his own powers to peer through time the same way one of us mortals might skim through a book. He told us that you were important, and one day you might determine the fate of this world and the worlds beyond.” Anna removed a wooden box that Alfred recognized but never seen opened.

“He told us if there ever came a day you would have to leave to save another spirit while in our company, to give you this.”

Anna pulled out a rather ordinary looking pocket watch; an average wind up watch he’d seen peeking out of the pockets of many a middle class man back in the day.

Alfred took the pocket watch carefully. But as soon as he touched it, he could feel the ectoplasm inside. This was no ordinary watch. When Alfred began to wind it up, the pocket watch began to hum on a frequency only ghosts could hear and glow green.

“What was his name?”

“Clockwork. I’ll tell you more about him next week. Same time?” Anna tried to appear nonchalant, but there was a quiver in her voice. Alfred must have looked truly distressed for Anna to be so affected.

“Next week,” Alfred reassured her, before he embraced Anna briefly. “Thank you.”

“Be safe,” she replied, fingers gripping the back of suit, voice tense with concern.

Alfred released his friend and nodded. He let intangibility and invisibility wash over him. And for the first time in a long time, Alfred truly flew.

Alfred was headed for Old Gotham, the city’s necrotic magic urging him towards her spirit. He fiddled with the old watch on the way, not quite sure what he was supposed to do with it, but it continued to hum with powerful ectoplasmic energy. He suspected this Clockwork creature being a ghost of time, perhaps even an Ancient. Alfred couldn’t be sure, knowing so little of the Infinite Realms himself.

He tried messing with the hands, but they were stuck in place.

“Alfred Pennyworth, Lar of the Wayne Family,” a soft, but echoey voice spoke from in front of Alfred, breaking him from concentration.

Alfred stopped before a blue-skinned ghost in a purple cloak and hood. Alfred could feel immense power wafting towards him and knew he was looking at an Ancient, the same way he had been in Phantom’s presence and knew he was looking at his King. But where Phantom’s power had felt young and not yet fully developed, the power of the Ancient in front of him was unspeakably old. Old and settled in a way that truly did feel ancient.

“Clockwork, I presume? It is an honor, Ancient of Time.”

The ghost smiled mysteriously and said nothing.

“My friend is in trouble and I must make haste to help her,” Alfred said impatiently.

“Fear not, time is mine to command. Right now, we’re in a time out.” The ghost shifted into the form of an infant.

“Have you appeared to help me?”

“Not in the way you wish. One of the limitations of having all the knowledge of time at my disposal is that I oftentimes must uphold conduct of non-interference. This timeout is me helping you despite that.”

“Why did you approach Everett and Anna Clemson?” Alfred found himself asking, despite the far more pressing questions he should be asking of Lady Gotham’s current distress.

“There are so many possible futures it is hard to determine which will come to pass. But there are certain events that stand out as markers to guess at the trajectory of a timeline. I found one in which the fate of this world and eventually, the fate of the Realms themselves hinged on your attempted rescue of Lady Gotham.”

Alfred read between the lines of what Clockwork was saying. “I will fail.”

“Most probably, yes,” Clockwork said gravely, shifting into the form of an old man.

“I foresaw your meeting with Anna. And I aided in your friendship with her and her husband, knowing it would help you through difficult times. You are very important, Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Merely a family spirit who caught a lucky break.”

Clockwork shook his head and shifted back into a young man. “You are pivotal in this world’s destiny. Without you, there would be no Batman, the Wayne family would be extinct, and the heroes of this world would have fallen long ago. You provided a home and family for many who protect this universe. Your role helped protect the world where our King was born and grew into the man he is now. Depending on where the timeline grows next, your importance will only continue to grow.”

Alfred ruminated on the Ancient’s words. No future was set in stone, but everything had its probabilities. He could guess what further importance his family might have in the Infinite Realms to come from the way Tim and Danny looked at one another. It was a future Alfred thought worth fighting for.

“The GIW have come for Lady Gotham?” He asked, knowing it was the most likely answer.

“Yes.”

“I will not be powerful enough to stop them.”

“No.”

Alfred nodded. His survival was unlikely, no matter what Clockwork had said about the future. It hadn’t escaped his notice Clockwork hadn’t said anything about the probability of his survival, only that a further future was possible. Alfred didn’t want to know his odds. He’d never needed to before protecting those who were his. He would not fail this city or his family like he’d failed James Wayne. And if he Ended this day, so be it.

A pawnshop out of the corner of his eye caught Alfred’s attention. He recognized it from one of Bruce’s files as a frequent dealer of illegal weapons. “Then I will be taking as many bastards down with me as I can,” Alfred promised. “Let me go.”

“Red over blue,” Clockwork warned.

Alfred had no idea what that meant. “Thank you, Lord Clockwork.”

“I am sending help your way. Best of luck, lar of the Waynes. Time in.”

Chapter Text

Danny had to force himself not to let his protective emotions out while the Ring of Rage pulsed around his finger. Lady Gotham wasn’t really part of his Fraid. More like they had a pact of non-aggression. But Danny was High King, which meant Lady Gotham was still one of his. And Alfred…if they didn’t make it in time, Danny wasn’t sure what he would do. He just knew he didn’t want to be the one to tell Batman that his butler/father figure had been kidnapped. And Tim…well, Tim was not helping matters by radiating anxiety and worry.

They were racing back to where they’d first portaled into the Realms, so the veil would be close enough to Danny and Tim’s Gotham. But it felt like it was taking forever. And Danny knew that as powerful as Alfred had become, he was still no match for a GIW taskforce out to subdue a city spirit. They were both in danger.

Tim was vibrating with tension beside him as Danny ripped a portal into the Batcave. Tim wasted no time darting through and compensating for the change in physics with a somersault as he flew out of the portal and used the momentum to roll back to his feet.

The vigilantes present in the cave were unaffected by Tim’s spontaneous gymnastics and were only mildly interested in the green portal that Danny carved into the cave, all of them relaxing their holds on their weapons when Danny slipped through and closed up the portal behind them.

“Welcome back,” Cass greeted as she approached from the Bat Computer where she had been standing by Batman.

Batman grunted in greeting, and Damian scoffed nearby, likely both of them still mad at Tim for keeping secrets.

“We have a situation. Alfred is in danger,” Tim announced, bypassing the pleasantries.

Damian scoffed from where he was currently sharpening his katana nearby. “Inflicting a false crisis scenario on us to garner sympathy for Pennyworth will not work, Drake.”

“It’s not a false crisis. Both Alfred and Lady Gotham are in danger,” Danny said instead after he slipped back into his human form.

“How do you know this?” Batman asked.

Tim looked to Danny. “You understood more of that warning than I did.”

Danny sighed. “A ghost told me. Specifically, an omniscient Ancient.”

“Research indicates Ancients to be the most powerful ghosts in existence. Timeless beings made to embody concepts. Why would one be concerned with Pennyworth?” Damian asked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “He’s my kind-of-mentor and pseudo-uncle who enjoys meddling. And if he contacts me it usually means something is about to go down that can alter or destroy timelines. And we’re wasting time. Who was the last to see Alfred?”

Guilt radiated from Batman and Robin. Cass also felt guilty, but at least she bothered to reply, “Three hours ago. Kitchen. He left to visit a friend. And buy groceries.”

“What friend?” Tim questioned.

Cass shrugged.

Then, Oracle’s voice called out from the Bat Computer speakers. “We have a situation. GIW are causing a mess in Old Gotham. Reports indicate some sort of shadowy entity. And…holy shit.”

Everyone exchanged looks. Babs only cursed if a situation were truly dire.

“Report, Oracle,” Damian demanded.

“Give me a sec. Ectoplasmic interference is screwing with the street cams…” Danny could hear rapid clacking of keys in the background. “Police are reporting something about shots being fired from a flying man.”

“Oh my God! Guys! Turn on the News!” Steph shouted as she emerged from the elevator. She slid down the stair railing to the level with the Bat Computer.

“Which one, Brown?” Damian said.

“Doesn’t matter! Anything local!” Steph pushed Bruce and his chair away and used the computer to pull up a Live feed from Channel 9 News. Everyone gasped as the image revealed video footage from a helicopter, the newscaster in the background providing perplexed commentary, understanding very little about the situation other than it was more magical than the typical bullshit Gothamites had to deal with.

Reports of a “shadowy entity” were just about as concise of a description as possible considering Lady Gotham’s current form being broadcasted on live television. She was a four-story tall monstrosity, screeching with pain as white-suited agents shot green blasts from powerful Fenton-designed ghost hunting equipment, both at the street and from nearby rooftops. Danny couldn’t even make out the feminine form that Lady Gotham usually adapted with a long black dress and wide-brimmed hat and veil. She was just shadows, writhing tendrils, and needle-like teeth. And amidst all the darkness, two green eyes pulsing with rage and pain. Danny’s core whined in sympathy.

A green-glowing man notably shaped in the form of a British butler hovered above the skyline, shotgun cocked and shooting counter-fire at the GIW agents. Danny was impressed to see Alfred’s hits usually landed. Mostly maiming. But there was one shot an agent took to the chest that was definitely lethal. Batman winced, his emotions around him swarming overwhelmingly with sorrow, fear, betrayal, panic, anger, and a smattering of other emotions. Danny had to look away from the man before he was entirely overwhelmed from the second-hand feelings.

It seemed like Lady Gotham and Alfred were holding their own. At least until agents on another roof managed to set-up some kind of cannon. The news camera was too far away to make out any details, but Danny had seen prototypes and blueprints from his parents’ lab years ago: The Fenton Ghost Blaster. He’d sabotaged their designs for it for nearly a year. Before Danny’s parents wrote it off as a failure and chucked it into a bin that the GIW must have gotten hold of back in the days where even Fenton failures were worth their weight in gold to the Assholes in White.

“I need to portal there now,” Danny announced.

“We need a plan,” Batman countered.

“Alfred is in danger!” Danny protested.

Tim put his hand on Danny’s arm. “And we won’t help matters by portaling in and making things worse.” He turned to Batman. “Is Signal still out?”

Batman grunted in the negative.

“This is crazy,” Steph remarked. “Did you all know that Alfred was an expert marksman or was I supposed to figure that out on my own?”

“Tt. Of course we knew. Pennyworth was our instructor in gun safety for a reason,” Damian replied.

Steph waved a vague hand Batman’s direction. “I just assumed Mr. McTrauma the First over here was just too emotionally compromised and someone had to.”

Batman’s responding grunt was pained.

“Fight later. Help Alfred now,” Cass spoke firmly.

The Gotham vigilantes out of habit looked to Batman. To any non-Bat and non-ghost, his stoic silence while he stared at the glitching feed of the news station would have unnerved them. But Danny could sense the grief wafting off of him. Batman was having a breakdown.

“Okay, since B is emotionally compromised, here’s how this is going to go down,” Tim announced, taking charge. Danny could admit he was a bit turned on as his boyfriend commanded the room. He filed that away to dwell on later.

“We treat this like a stealth mission. Alfred and Lady Gotham are already making quite the distraction. B, I need you to contact the Kents so they can start spinning the story in the ghosts’ favor. Everyone else, get ready to roll. Five minutes until Phantom portals us into Old Gotham. We’re attacking from the shadows…” Tim continued outlining a plan with Steph, Cass, and Damian.

Danny floated over to Batman and hovered at his side. He didn’t touch Batman, unaware of his feelings towards touch. But he did float at his side in support. “Alfred is stronger than most ghosts of this Realm. The GIW will be more concerned with capturing than Ending him.”

Batman’s panic wafting off him didn’t lessen. In fact the only sign he heard at all was the creak of his leather gloves as he clenched his fists.

Danny continued. “It means we have a better chance of saving him. We’ll bring Alfred home.”

“…Phantom, how long until that cannon charges?”

Danny startled only a bit at Tim’s address to him. He turned around. “Uh…prototypes said roughly five minutes from assembly to first fire.”

“Fantastic. How many portals can you make?”

“Well, I’m at full core capacity and just dipped in the Realms. So…probably up to twelve before I start lagging and sending people where they’re not supposed to go. Assuming I don’t over-exert myself with my other powers.”

“Good. We break in teams of two. Batman and Robin will be street level to take care of ground GIW agents. Phantom and I will take care of that cannon. Spoiler and Black Bat will take care of the other roofs. Questions?”

The Gotham vigilantes present shook their heads. Tim straightened, outwardly calm and collected even while anxiety rolls underneath. He was incredible. His boyfriend was hot when he took charge. Danny was going to make out with him so hard once this was all over.

But before Tim’s genius could be enacted the feed from the news cleared enough to see the cannon on the rooftop fire, a pulse of green light that enveloped Lady Gotham. Time seemed to freeze, as did all the vigilantes in the room. And then wailing. Wailing like Tim had never heard before, but sounding reminiscent of Nightmare Fuel’s wail in the Realms, full of pain and fear. And before it could finish, the feed from the News cameras was knocked out entirely.

“We have to go. Now!” Danny insisted. Because if Lady Gotham had just been taken down, that meant all the GIW agents would be focused on Alfred. And Alfred may be powerful, but he was still weak compared to what these agents were used to and trained for.

Phantom clawed open a portal just as Batman and Robin stepped forward, ready for combat. But Danny couldn’t help feeling as he sent the duo on their way to the chaos, that it was already too late.

Gotham was in chaos. It wouldn’t be the first time, and Fear Eater had the sense it wouldn’t be the last time either. Fear Eater didn’t like to linger in their memories of Before. They were often vague, filled with pain and the acrid smell of blood and sweat. But they remembered dark streets broken with the pop of gunfire and the screams of the terrified. They remembered floods and fires and sickness running rampant through a city too broken to thrive and too stubborn to die. Fear Eater remembered being the cause of some of those tragedies, a tool wielded by those reveled in control of the chaos.

Fear Eater really didn’t like remembering Before.

Fear Eater stalked in the shadows of alleys and dark rooms of Gothic buildings in Downtown Gotham. He had veritable buffet to choose from in the confusion where Gothamites’ oaky and aged fear intermingled amongst the sharp and flavor-burst of tourists’ panic. The problem was taking their fear and ignoring the white suits who wore fear like a parasite they refused to acknowledge. It tasted stale and raw with its maggots of hatred hollowing their fear, as if ripping fear from the white suits would tear something vital from their hardened souls. Fear Eater cowered from their unwanted presence. Especially when their strange machines tore a burn in Fear Eater’s side that didn’t heal the way it was supposed to. Fear Eater wasn’t supposed to be injured like this. Not now, and not Before.

The most pungent fear present was the fear they couldn’t consume. The fear that rested in center of a stew of simmering rage from the city ghost under attack. Lady Gotham was powerful and Fear Eater’s core pulsed with the pain of their lady’s cries for aid.

But Fear Eater was only barely formed from a shade due to the intervention of their king. Their power was young and untested. And they hated that the fear they longed to consume to nothing instead filled their entire core, terrified at the prospect of the white suits injuring them further and sucking them away in the strange cylinders they carried.

Instead, Fear Eater stuck to the nooks and crannies of the old buildings where the city’s people hid away, and nibbled away at the throat-clogging terror until it was lessened to normal levels of fear from endangerment. No need to indulge in a few individuals when there was a feast of fear in the city today.

Fear Eater sensed a shift in the emotions of the city following the crack of a shotgun in an old square. The fear of the white suits turned sour and hope took a firmer root in the Gotham and her people’s terror. Fear Eater floated through a wall and observed from the overhang of a balcony as another powerful ghost came to their Lady’s aid. Fear Eater was too far to taste what the new ghost’s emotions could be, but even from afar, they could see the aura of protection that drifted towards Lady Gotham in the unmistakable bonds of “Fraid.” Another one of their lady’s ghosts then.

Strangely the new protector chose no ghostly defenses as he floated by Lady Gotham. No ectoblasts or elemental attacks. Instead, the ghost maintained tangibility on a sawed-off shotgun made of mortal means, firing upon the white suits. The shades of Gotham trilled in victory whenever dark crimson splashed against pristine white cloth. And silent support wafted off the Gothamites nearby for the avenger laying waste to the white-suited pests in their city. And fear of Lady Gotham herself there too. But at least Lady Gotham belonged, and Gothamites were fiercely protective of their own when out-of-towners messed with their city’s ecosystem. Pride welled in Fear Eater’s chest, for this city was theirs too.

So, no, Fear Eater didn’t take the white suits’ fear. Instead they followed the Gothamites who trembled with anger, only fear holding them back. And it was all too easy to take that fear away entirely. And watch Gothamites snap like a rubber band, launching themselves like alleyway cats into the fray. They threw garbage from their windows upon the invaders below, screaming at them to leave. To let the eldritch shadows be even while they pulsated confused fear at the sight of Lady Gotham in an enraged form.

And then green pain filled the air and Fear Eater’s Lady howled in anguish. A wail that all the dead of Gotham heard and trembled to. Fear Eater’s terror multiplied as they cowered behind a gargoyle. Their lady shrunk and pulled in on herself, and the white suits swarmed her.

The protector ghost was caught off guard by Lady Gotham’s distress, and a green blast from a white suit knocked the shot gun from his grasp. The ghost spun away, blown back by the green blast, but collected himself quickly.

His core screamed in fury. “AS LONG AS I EXIST, YOU SHALL NOT HAVE HER!” His eyes flashed with red light and he touched down on the ground, his features becoming even more ghostly as he snarled with fangs and his pallor turned deathly pale. He no longer wore the crisp tuxedo and aged face of a butler, but rather the mud-streaked face of young adult with old eyes and ripped and stained army fatigues from a war nearly a century ago. The ground trembled where he touched down, tripping nearby white suits.

It was a flurry of green blasts and shadows as Lady Gotham and her defender stood back to back. But the white suits were many and their weapons were designed to hunt and entrap their kind. Fear Eater felt the cold acceptance as both ghosts prepared to meet their End. And they cooed mournfully as they watched the scene play out.

A lucky shot, and Lady Gotham snarled and cowered, right into the light of a white suit’s thermos. The protector ghost snarled in frustration, launching himself at the offending white suit. But his move cost him, for even as he clawed the face of the white suit who had captured their lady, another white suit came from behind to vanish the protector ghost too.

The shades of Gotham howled and frenzied with the loss of their guiding spirit. The shadows seemed darker and hollow now that their Lady was gone. And the fear rose through the city from the mortals who knew something drastic had occurred. But they had no idea what. And confusion rose through the city like steam from sewer vents.

Too late, Lady Gotham’s knights arrived through the gift of Fear Eater’s King. And their fear was like digging through a puzzlebox for a treat inside, bundled tightly down where it could not control them. Fear Eater drifted towards Lady Gotham’s Dark Knight and her Robin who immediately engaged the white suits had harmed their lady and her protector. But the other white suit with the fresh claw marks and his partner who had stolen the protector slipped away, escaping the fray.

Fear Eater swooped to get their attention, but inadvertently received the attention of the lingering adversaries. They flew away before they could be ended by the strange machines that injured them like nothing ever had before.

Fear Eater swooped up and over to the new presence of their king on a roof nearby. Their king and his Fraid-mate were dispatching two white suits and dismantling the strange cannon that had brought Lady Gotham to her knees.

“My king,” Fear Eater trilled to their King.

King Phantom wafted momentary surprise before it was replaced with fear and worry for Fear Eater. “Fear Eater, you shouldn’t be here. Danger.”

“Much fear to be taken. Was needed,” Fear Eater argued.

“No. Too much danger.”

“What are they saying?” Gotham’s knight, who was also of the King’s Fraid and Core, asked.

“Fear Eater saw everything that went down. They were attracted by the fear,” King Phantom replied in mortal speech.

“Can you ask them what happened to Alfred and Lady Gotham?” the knight asked.

Fear Eater clucked. He did not need mortal speech translated. “White suits took my lady and her protector. Gone. Like rats in the sewers.”

“Fuck,” King Phantom cursed in mortal tongue. “The GIW already has them.”

Gotham’s knight replied with his own profanity. Much more colorful and varied than Fear Eater’s King. His emotions were tightening around him in a chokehold of unacknowledged grief, frustration, and failure. And of course, a heavy blanket of fear. The knight stepped away, pressing a finger to the strange device in his ear and talking to the open air.

“Thank you for your report, Fear Eater. Go, before they take you too.”

One of the white suits was tied up, but still conscious by the cannon that had made Fear Eater’s lady wail with such anguish. “Fuckin’ spooks. Crawling out of the woodwork like cockroaches now. Not that it matters. We have your Queen Bee. The hive will die without her. Just like all the Realms will fall when we capture you,” the white suit threatened King Phantom.

Fear Eater growled at the disrespect. Usually, they wished to take away fear, not expound it, but there were some who deserved to feel terror. They stalked to the white suit, the fear they’d feasted on curling off them in waves. Let them taste what the mortals of this city felt when they threatened Lady Gotham. Fear Eater wished upon them fear like the kind that sometimes spread through the streets in a lethal cloud of terror. Fear that would bring an End of untold suffering and pain.

“Fear Eater, no,” King Phantom cautioned. “I shall deal with these abominations. Stay safe.”

Fear Eater warbled, “They put fear in my core. And I watched helpless while my Lady was overtaken. I refuse to feel that fear again. They shall suffer.”

Meanwhile, the King’s mortal knight felt no similar compunction to obey his command. He slammed to end of his staff against the white suit’s head to silence them.

The King radiated brief fondness before turning his attention back to Fear Eater. “You wish to fight them?”

“YESSSS.”

King Phantom nodded. “Come with me. We will gather forces. This war ends today.”

Fear Eater’s core hummed in agreement, flashes of memories of Before came to mind. But this time the sight of dark blood on silver blades sparked a hunger in them. Their fear would become vengeance.

“Wait, what is happening?” The knight of the King’s Core asked.

“Fear Eater is coming with us. They want to help,” The King replied.

The knight groaned, annoyance prickling off of him. “Please tell me you’re joking. I was hoping to explain your ghostly Pokémon evolution the next of never.”

Phantom’s core hummed with amused fondness for the dramatics of his Fraid member.

“Your knight does not wish to work with me?”

“Nah, he likes you. Just doesn’t want to introduce you to his boss.”

Fear Eater didn’t understand. “I wish to retrieve the Lady of my city, same as her Dark Knight. Why would he not?...And what is a Pokémon?”

Their king’s core hummed again with amusement. His speech was mortal again. “In this case, you are the Pokémon. Fear Eater, I choose you!”

The knight groaned, his head falling into his hands. “B is going kill me,” he muttered.

Fear Eater was still confused, but they had their King’s approval, and that was all that really mattered.

Chapter Text

When Robin and Batman returned the cave in the middle of the night via another of Phantom’s portals, Richard was already waiting for them, pacing by the BatComputer where news feeds of the GIW battle played on the various screens accompanied by some video feeds from Oracle’s network. Oracle was soothing Richard over the comms about the family being alright and giving a rundown of the battle. Richard must have arrived during post-fight procedures that included handing off captured GIW agents to the proper authorities and ensuring the safety of civilians who had been caught in the battle’s radius. By the time Nightwing could have made it on site the mission would have been over. Not that it didn’t make Richard any less frustrated when he was stuck somewhere while his family could be in danger.

Damian broke away from Batman to greet Richard. His father was closed off and overly tense, shoving his panic somewhere deep where no one could reach it. Damian had no idea how to help him. Damian was far better experienced with handling Richard’s moods. Mostly because Richard was such a tactile person. Damian merely needed to stand at his eldest brother’s side before he was swept up into a hug until he could feel some of the tension leave his brother.

“You’re alright?” Dick asked, his fingers probing the less defensible areas of Robin’s armor for any sign of injury.

“I am fine, Richard,” Damian huffed, but he let Richard complete his checks regardless.

With Damian looked over, Richard turned attention to Batman stood at the Bat Computer and immediately began questioning Oracle about the GIW agents who had escaped them.

“B?”

Batman grunted to indicate his coherency, but it was absent and strained.

“They took Pennyworth,” Damian explained softly.

“Babs told me. Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.”

“You can’t promise that. They…we saw what they did to ghosts. All those files…”

Richard hugged Damian all the tighter. He wouldn’t admit it, but Damian found the added pressure comforting. “We will get him back,” as if Richard couldn’t fathom any other outcome.

Another green portal that still made Damian shiver with their similarity to his grandfather’s Lazarus Pits opened. Spoiler, Black Bat and Signal, who had joined during the cleanup to help find civilians, jumped through before the portal closed behind them.

“Red Robin and Phantom still on site,” Brown reported. “Tim’s transfixed by their weird cannon thing that shot down the larger ghost, who is apparently Lady Gotham? I feel like now that the immediate danger has passed, we need to take a moment to process that our city is a sentient ghost who just got beat down and kidnapped. Existential crises all around.”

Cain shrugged.

“I cannot believe you guys didn’t know about this city’s ghosts at all. Please tell me you at least know Gentleman Ghost? That guy is so annoying and I’m going to riot if I’m the only one who has to deal with him,” Thomas remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Damian knew for a fact that Father had fought with Gentleman Ghost, but Batman offered no reply, instead transfixed with one of the video cameras that tracked a couple escaped GIW agents. Damian had read the reports and believed them to be a prank for a long time until Richard had explained Gentleman Ghost was a real rogue. Damian had assumed they were a rarity like Deadman of the Justice League or Secret on Drake’s Young Justice team.

“What’s the plan?” Cain spoke, attempting to secure Batman’s focus.

Batman grunted absently, meaning absolutely nothing at all other than indicating that he hadn’t been listening to any of them.  

Richard growled and released Damian. “B! This is not the time for a mental breakdown! Alfred’s been taken and we have a city spirit to save.”

The only sign Father had heard Richard was the pause of his fingers on the keyboard. He was wound so tightly any increased tension would have been unnoticeable.

Richard stormed towards Father. “You can’t do this, Bruce. We need you to communicate! What are we going to do?!”

The rest of the family watched in stilted silence as Richard’s voice rose. And Father just stared passively at the screen, his emotions impossible to determine under the cowl and cape. For Richard it was like shouting at a wall. And none of them knew what to do to help. It had been so long since they’d seen Batman so unresponsive. And with Pennyworth gone, they didn’t even have someone to pull Father back from whatever was going through his head.

Another green portal ripped into the cave. This time Red Robin and Phantom came through themselves. All of them startled to see some kind of creature clinging to Phantom’s back with four claw-tipped hands, attached to feathery arms. A wispy shadow tail wagged behind them. But the most unnerving thing about them was the hawkish head, with pitch black feathers and piercing yellow eyes that reminded Damain of enhanced assassins hunting Robin through Gotham catacombs. He shivered when the eyes landed briefly on him before darting to the other people of the cave.

The being hissed at Phantom, who chittered reassuringly in response.

“Phantom, explain,” Damian demanded.

But it was Drake who replied instead, “That’s one of Gotham’s ghosts, Fear Eater. They’re…friendly with Phantom,” he settled. Clearly Drake intended to obfuscate the truth of the ghost.  

Fear Eater looked around the room, gaze lingering on Batman, and then chittered insistently at Phantom. Their eerie golden light pulsed softly.

Phantom growled back. “No. I don’t care how tasty their fear is. No feeding on allies without permission,” he said aloud. For their benefit, Damian realized. He wasn’t sure what benefit Phantom intended. A warning? A reassurance? Damian was not reassured.

Damian shivered again, realizing how defenseless he truly was against a ghost. He regretted not lifting a GIW weapon for his own use during one of their battles. Just for insurance purposes. But all their weapons were currently locked up on the other side of the Cave.

Fear Eater zeroed in on Batman who still hadn’t moved from the screen. Not even to observe and threaten the newcomer or Phantom for bringing them along. Evidence suggested Father must be dissociating. It unnerved Damian.

Faster than should be possible, Fear Eater swooped over to Batman, and their beak widened farther than should be capable, like an unhinged jaw.

Damian and siblings cried out with concern. Nearly simultaneously, three different batarangs were thrown at the ghost even though they all knew it would do nothing but maybe distract it. Richard had his escrima sticks out ready to attack, and even Batman finally flinched and dropped into a crouch.

Fear Eater screeched at the onslaught, and shadows curled around them not dissimilarly to what Damian had seen Thomas do with his own umbrakinesis. Fear Eater spiraled up out of immediate reach.

Phantom growled, his core thrumming with the rumble of glaciers, and Fear Eater froze at the ghostly command before drifting back towards Phantom.

Richard choked, and Cain turned on Phantom, threatening him for the first time since meeting him. “What have you brought to our cave?” She signed furiously.

Phantom flinched at Cain’s intensity. “A friendly ghost, I swear. They do what their name implies: they feed on fear. Batman is radiating some serious panic right now. They just wanted to help.”

Damian turned towards Father, who was now gliding away from the computer, expressing the first outward show of emotion since Alfred’s capture and it was anger. “You brought them here without permission,” his voice at its gravelliest.

Drake stepped in front of Phantom and Fear Eater, no trace of discomfort on his face even though Damian had flinched at Father’s tone. “False. I gave them permission to be here.”

Father and Drake stared at one another, neither flinching or blinking. The tension discomforted Damian. “Last I checked, this was Father’s Cave, not your Nest, Drake,” Damian said to end the fraught silence.

Thomas stepped forward, addressing Damian. “I trust Phantom wouldn’t have brought someone here who would wish us harm. And I know Tim definitely wouldn’t.”

“They’re kind of cute, in a fantasy horror kind of way,” Brown remarked. “And I know there’s more to it than that, Tim. Why are they here?”  

Fear Eater chittered something up above.

Drake and Father continued their stare off, speaking a silent language between them that maybe not even Cain could understand.

“He thinks you’re pretty neat too,” Phantom translated. “And they want to help their Lady.”

“Their Lady?” Dick asked. “Does Fear Eater have a girlfriend. Can ghosts get married?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Focus, Richard.”

“They are referring to Lady Gotham, so more like a patron, not a girlfriend. Lady Gotham is not just the spirit of the city, she’s in charge of the ghosts who reside within in it. And now Fear Eater wants to rescue her,” Phantom explained.

Drake and Father must have come to some kind of understanding, because their staring match ended nearly simultaneously. Drake’s shoulders relaxed as he added, “And Fear Eater was there when she was captured. They saw which GIW agents took Alfred and Lady Gotham.”

“They are an unknown,” Batman grunt-spoke.

Drake turned on father. “And you are a mess. Your emotions are so loud I’m feeling nauseous. And you were too busy dissociating to even acknowledge Fear Eater in the Cave. How long has he been like this?” He asked everyone else.

“Since he showed up,” Richard replied, sheathing his escrima and crossing his arms.

Drake nodded sharply and turned back to Father. “You are on the verge of a panic attack. And suppressing your feelings is only going to make it worse. Go take a shower, break down, and come back when you’re semi-functioning again.”

Richard had told Damian and his siblings previously that after Todd’s death, Drake developed skills on par with Alfred to pull Father from his spiraling. Since Damian had arrived in Gotham he had witnessed Drake exercise those skills rarely, enough for it to still be awe-inspiring to watch the Batman cow under Drake’s chastisement.

This was the first time he’d seen it happen with his Father looking so broken though. Damian looked away, unable to bear seeing it.

Damian’s gaze flickered left to see how Phantom was handling the current situation. His nose wrinkled in disgust to see Phantom practically melt with heart eyes from behind Drake. Gross. Todd would undoubtedly tease Drake mercilessly for his paramour’s swooning. Speaking of, “Has anyone heard from Todd?”

The entire room seemed to freeze with newfound tension and fear.

Phantom flinched as if the new wave of emotions in the Cave physically pained him.

“Oracle,” Batman barked, sharp as the edge of Damian’s katana.

“Last I traced his phone, it was at one of his safehouses. But he hasn’t replied to any of my calls about the situation,” Oracle reported.

“Subdermal tracker?” Batman asked.

Everyone – Damian included – started to protest. Richard was the loudest of them.

“Subdermal tracker?!” Richard hissed. “B, what did you do?”

Batman grunted guiltily.

“Nowhere near Gotham,” Oracle replied. “My guess – based off approximate location – is Roy’s.”

Drake groaned. “Seriously, Jason?! He couldn’t even handle one conversation before running off to his emotional support friend? That’s it. I call bullshit next time he claims he’s not a Bat.”

“At least Roy’s means he’s safe,” Thomas reassured.

Brown asked, “Should we check to be sure? We have no idea what these GIW freaks are willing to do. They attacked Lady Gotham’s ghost in broad daylight!”

“If you all have the address, I can have some of my fraid pick him up,” Phantom offered. “Might have to wait until morning though. One of them has a strict no waking up before the sun policy.”

“Do it,” Drake said. “We need everyone together for preparations and planning. The GIW made the first move and we don’t have time to waste. I’m assuming your friends can portal?”

Phantom smiled at his boyfriend. “You assume correctly.”

Drake nodded. “Hopefully the sheer shock of your friends will override Jason’s typical obstinacy.”

Father grunted his disagreement with Drake’s plan. And Damian had to agree. He didn’t want to let more unknowns into the Batcave.

“Showers, Bruce. Now,” Drake ordered. “Process your trauma like a functioning human being instead of repressing them under your paranoia. Or I will sic the mood-altering ghost on you.”

No one believed Drake’s threat to be a bluff. Especially not Damian who had once watched Drake inject an injured Batman with a tranquilizer dart in the middle of patrol and drag him back to the Batmobile unconscious.

Father departed for the showers.

Damian was unfortunately close enough to Phantom to hear him whisper under his breath “I am both terrified and aroused right now.”

“Steph brought up a good point earlier,” Richard remarked, bringing the group back to the conversation focus. “Why did the GIW attack Lady Gotham in Downtown during one of the busiest times of day? Up until now their goal has been to be a secret organization. It makes no sense. What changed?”

“We did. We forced them to alter their normal operations by exposing ghosts to the general public,” Phantom said quietly. “By attacking Lady Gotham in daylight, they’re hoping to turn the public against ghosts. You all know something of ghosts from me, but the public just saw an eldritch horror sprouting up in the middle of downtown. They’re trying to drum up fear. It nearly worked in Amity Park. They only failed because I’d been around long enough to earn some begrudging respect, and they always caused more property damage than ghosts ever did. But the rest of the world has no idea what ghosts are capable of yet beyond a couple news articles.”

“Then they chose the wrong city for it,” Thomas insisted. “This is Gotham. Eldritch horrors are the least of our worries.”

“And they fired the first public shot figuratively. Their actions put civilians in irrefutable danger, which under Justice League protocol allows us to counter them.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Brown asked excitedly.

Drake returned her wicked grin. “Yep. It means we’re going on the offensive now. The GIW may think they won this battle, but they’ve just handed us the war,” Drake said.

“What are you plotting, Baby bird?” Richard asked.

And Drake smiled toothily, a grin that reminded Damian an awful lot of Drake’s namesake. “It’s time to mobilize the Justice League and our new ghostly allies. We’re about to eradicate the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW’s entire organization. And they won’t even see us all coming.”

“About damn time,” Oracle replied.

Operative S breathed shakily in the bathroom stall of the GIW base in Gotham. He hated this city. With its gunshots outside his hotel room in the middle of the night and sunless days that always felt just on the verge of dreary rain. He even hated the goddamn welcome kit that came complete with a gas mask and injections of anti-toxins. But most of all he hated the people. Who seemed to be born mean with crazy in their eyes. They’d have to be to survive in this hellhole of a city.

And none came more crazy than the GIW’s latest ally in the crusade against ecto-entities: Dr. Jonathan Crane. He spoke of fear with the same fervor of a ghost rambling about their obsession. He took delight in the screams of the GIW’s experiments, on par with the most disturbed of the GIW’s research and development division.

In all honesty, Operative S didn’t much like the Ghost Investigation Ward anymore either. In the beginning it had been the golden opportunity Operative S had been looking for straight out of college with no job prospects, no money, and no family to fall back on. They offered government benefits, specialized training, and severance package worth drooling over. He’d gotten caught up in the intensity of their research, and their cause to eradicate the secret threat to the United States and the world. And his task was simple, yet fulfilling: travel the country to catch all manner of ecto-entities and bring them to the nearest base for processing. Simple. Efficient. Thrilling. Like a modern-day knight in white armor.

But that all changed when Operative S met Agent Alpha. With his education, Agent Alpha deemed Operative S well suited for the recent vacancy of his personal assistant. An honor, even though it meant taking Operative S off of field work. That’s when the golden ideal of the GIW started to tarnish in Operative S’ mind. The beginning of the end.

Agent Alpha was a harsh and uncompromising man. His opinions were facts, and other people’s facts were incorrect opinions unless they conformed to his will. His voice’s only volume seemed to be shouting. And if he wasn’t shouting, he was grimacing in silence. The only joy Agent Alpha expressed was in the success of odd projects that were occasionally reported on. Operative S used to care little for whatever business went on beyond catching and processing of ecto-entities. But now the forbidden knowledge of the research division crossed his desk. And he couldn’t help but glimpse sometimes what exactly happened to the ecto entities he captured.

Then came the guilt. Ecto entities were evil, they were non-sentient, they were a plague upon the earth that would lead to its destruction. And yet… Some of the experiments Operative S read he wouldn’t wish on a war criminal. What purpose could there be to tear out organs until the screams of an ecto-entity finally stopped? Was that really countering evil, or perpetuating it? And if they were non-sentient, why did so many transcripts report ecto-entities begging for mercy, for an End, bargaining until the last? And if they were such a dangerous plague, why would anyone ever think it a good idea to enhance their abilities and send them back into the world?

That last point was something Operative S had come back to often and usually led to him throwing up multiple times a day as development progressed on Operation Lyssa. A couple days he learned part of the project included experimenting on living people. Not just ecto-entities. Sure, the reports said they weren’t human any more, just haunted flesh. But they still breathed, they bled, and they cried the same as any human. Until they couldn’t cry anymore, and only an empty corpse was left.

Yesterday, he’d been present on mission to capture the Gotham ghost, also known as Specimen 3-5-19 as the official paperwork proclaimed. Operative S hoped it might give him clarity and renew his belief in the GIW’s mission. But this was nothing like the missions he’d taken on before. This was not a battle of man against ghost. This was a hunt that treated people and property like unavoidable collateral in its wake. Agent Alpha had wanted it to be a spectacle of the evil nature of ghosts. But instead of nightmares of the dark tentacles of the powerful Gotham parasite, instead all Operative S could think about was the glowering faces of Gotham civilians trapped in the battle zone, fear brimming in their eyes. But not towards the ghost. Towards Operative S. Towards the GIW, who were supposed to be their heroes. Operative S didn’t feel much like a hero though.

And today…today he’d been in the conference room when Agent Alpha strategized with the other high-ranking members of the GIW and Dr. Crane. “We will make the people finally see,” Agent Alpha emphasized. “The Justice League has been corrupted by ecto-entities. It is time to show the world what we are fighting against before they can be corrupted too. We will drag Phantom out from whatever hole he’s hiding in and expose him to the world. And then we will End him.”

Agent Alpha went on to explain precisely how they would accomplish it. And Operative S’ nausea had increased tenfold. They were going to unleash the fruits of Operation Lyssa upon this cursed city. To let their hoards of rabid ghosts frenzy. And Operative S may hate this city and hate its people. But there were still people here. Families and children and people just trying to get by day to day. They clearly had enough to deal with without adding ghosts to the mix. And not for the first time, Operative S wondered if maybe the GIW were in the wrong? And if they were, what else were they wrong about?

If Operative S had more time he might return to his college study habits: when something doesn’t make sense, gather more information until it does. But he didn’t have time. The attack on Gotham was imminent, and he had no idea what to do.

He didn’t feel much like Operative S anymore. But he also wasn’t sure he could return to who he was before. The GIW was everything: his friends, his home, his purpose. He had nothing outside the GIW.

And yet, he didn’t think he could live with himself if he let their plans continue unimpeded.  

Jason awoke to something small and bony elbowing the side of his chest in a familiar way that could only belong to the assassin-inherited elbows of Lian Harper. It took him a moment to parse through sleep fog to think of why he might be crashing on Roy’s couch this time. Until the night before came back with the family dinner, Alfred’s revelations, his brief fight with Danny when the Pit Rage had risen to the surface, and the conversation with Tim the next morning. He had driven his motorbike out of Gotham and just followed the highway for hours before finally deciding as the sun went down to actually go somewhere. He’d taken the nearest zeta tube across the country, hot-wired a car, and driven until he found himself on the front stoop of his best friend’s house.

As usual, hardly any words were exchanged as a half-asleep Roy Harper welcomed him in, tossed him a blanket and pillow, and returned to his own bed. The other vigilante was probably relieved he didn’t have to worry about stitching anything up and cleaning the blood stains.

Sometime between passing out in the middle of the night and whenever the fuck now was, Lian Harper had awoken and crawled into the slim space between Jason and the couch’s back, cuddling him as if he were her personal teddy bear.

“Your elbows are lethal, kid,” Jason grumbled, low enough that if Lian were still asleep it wouldn’t wake her.

“You just need thicker skin,” Lian grumbled back, squirming to get comfortable. Complete with elbows and knees this time.

Jason huffed, “Gremlin.”

“Bugbear,” Lian huffed back.

Jason’s eyes furrowed. “Has Roy been reading to you from those geeky gamebooks again?”

“Like you’re any better, Mr. Jane Austen,” Roy’s voice argued from above them, startling them both.

Jason blinked open his eyes until the world wasn’t blurry and Roy’s face came into focus as he watched them from above like an ugly ginger crane, sipping a cup of coffee smugly. In fact, Jason used the opportunity to tell Roy so.

“A ginger crane? Like a tall thing that moves shit?” Roy asked.

“What? No. Like the bird, dumbass.”

“Language,” Lian grumbled.

“Your Dad cursed too,” Jason countered.

“I’m telling you both off. How am I supposed to be a normal kid if I show up to school with a potty mouth?”

“Kid, between me and your Mom you’re never gonna be normal. Cussing is the last thing for you to be worried about,” Roy replied.

Lian hummed at that, burrowing closer to Jason, deciding the conversation over.

Roy smiled fondly at this daughter and probably would have attempted ruffling her mess of bed hair, except they all knew that would probably end with a nerve strike to Roy’s wrist.

“So, because I am a hospitable host to you again, I demand breakfast,” Roy said.

“Don’t know about that. I already have a full schedule planned. You’ll have to consult with my PA.”

“Full schedule of what? Mope until noon? Beat up my sandbag in the afternoon? Return to your roots and brood once the sun goes down?”

Jason flipped Roy the bird for that last one. How dare he. “Au contraire. I am to be Lady Lian’s personal pillow until specified otherwise.”

“I grant you leave to make me pancakes,” Lian mumbled.

Jason glared at the girl, not that she was awake enough to see it. “How benevolent of you.”

“Lady Lian is a noble and just ruler,” Roy nodded with gravitas.

Jason stretched and began the slow process of clambering off the couch, aided by Lian’s sharp kick to his hip and telling him to “get on with it.”

“How about a ‘please,’ you little punk?” Jason chastened.

But before it could be determined if Lian would be polite or continue bullying him, there was a crisp knock on Roy’s door.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

“I never expect you miscreants,” Roy complained, specifically referencing their team, the Outlaws. “You all just show up.”

Jason grabbed one of the guns he had stashed under the couch. Wisely, Lian kept her head down so she couldn’t be seen from the front door.

Roy peered through the peephole and whispered a soft, “what the fuck.”

“Who is it?” Jason signed at the archer.

Roy very unhelpfully shrugged and proceeded to open the door, with the same lack of self-preservation as Timberly. “Hi. You all are a bit early for trick or treating.”

And then a feminine voice Jason didn’t recognize spoke, “Good morning. Is Jason here? Or Red Hood?”

Jason’s blood froze.  He clicked the safety off and crept to the door, gesturing for Lian to stay hidden.

“Who’s asking?” Roy replied, his eyes focused entirely on whoever was on his front stoop.

“Jasmine Fenton. My brother sent us to pick him up because he won’t answer his phone.  Jason’s family is very worried.”

Jason recognized the name. Danny had talked extensively about his family when giving Jason a crash course on ghostly vocabulary for words like “Fraid” and “Haunt.” Jasmine – or Jazz as Danny more commonly referred to her – was some sort of psychiatrist in training. Or was it psychologist? Anyway, she was the older sister who’d practically raised Danny, and was the first of his family to know he was half-ghost.

“Why would Jason’s family be worried about Red Hood?” Roy questioned.

Jason could almost hear the eye-roll in Jazz’s voice as she replied. “This will all go a lot smoother if we don’t skirt around the fact that you’re vigilantes, we know you’re vigilantes, and recognize no, we won’t tell anyone you’re vigilantes.”

“Vigilantes? You think this mess could be a Justice Leaguer?” Roy gestured to his whole body. And it was understandable why. Roy was still dressed in his sleepwear: pink boxers with bunnies and a white tank discolored with age. His hair was tangled mess loosely pulled back with one of Lian’s sparkly pink scrunchies. And unshaven ginger stubble dotted his chin from where he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet.

“Ĉi tio malŝparas tempon,” a voice growled in…Esperanto? “Ni bezonas renkonti Danny.”

Who even spoke Esperanto? Jason could only understand the basic gist of it from knowing other romance languages that they were due to meet up with Danny.

Amazingly, Jasmine replied without stumble in the same language, “Malstreĉiĝu, Wulf. Ni ne povas simple forrabi lin. Danny volas, ke ni estu mildaj.” What the fuck did Jazz mean about kidnapping him? Jason was starting to wonder if he was in danger. He hoped he was just mistranslating.

Jazz switched to English again, “Eye-ris, your cue.”

The third voice was unmistakably a child, sounding quite bored with current proceedings. “Roy Harper, vigilante with many names including Speedy, Red Arrow, and now Arsenal. Father of Lian Harper, who also resides in this domicile. Jason Todd-Wayne, second Robin of Gotham prior to death, and after death assumed moniker of Red Hood. Classification of Revenant.”

“What the fu-fudge?” Roy said.

“May we come in now?” Jazz asked. “If it is any consolation, we promise no harm on the inhabitants of this house, and as two of us are ghosts, that means we don’t lie.”

Probably more from shock than anything, Roy fully opened the front door.

“Thank you,” Jazz replied.

Jason could see why Roy had been perplexed by their new guests. Because the trio did look like some kind of Halloween costume contest. There was a seven-foot-tall wolf standing on his hind legs. He also wore a ripped shirt and pants, so Jason’s mind re-classified him as a werewolf. A werewolf with bright green eyes that felt unmistakably ghostly. The second was definitely a ghost. They were glowing green, and instead of a head, they just had a giant eyeball with a crimson iris. They were only about four feet tall, and they looked swamped in an overly large hoodie with a wolf howling at a full moon on it. And the hood currently over their eyeball head sported fluffy wolf ears.

The third and final guest was the only one human-looking, but she outshone her companions. She was a goddess given human form standing nearly as tall as Jason, with long red-hair pulled into a bun and held with chopsticks. She didn’t wear armor, but she looked dressed for battle all the same with cargo pants stuffed with gadgets, a belt where two Fenton thermoses hung, and a leather jacket over a tanktop, a bat resting easily on her shoulder. Her eyes were a blue that pierced straight through Jason and seemed to faintly glow all on their own as she stepped out of the sunlight.

It was for the best that Roy talked next because Jason was too tongue-tied to say anything useful or coherent. “So you know who we are, but who are you?”

“As I said, I’m Jasmine Fenton, but you can call me Jazz. This is Wulf, part of Phantom’s diplomatic corps, and his apprentice, Eye-ris.”

“Ne metilernanto. Fantomo-infano,” Wulf said, patting Eye-ris on the top of her eyeball-head.

The eyelet’s head literally rolled. “Ancients, you are so embarrassing.”

“What are you?” Lian asked, her head popping over the top of the couch.

“Lian, go to your room,” Roy said.

“Why? They already know I’m here. And I want to know what they want with Uncle Jay.”

“My kind are classified as Observants,” Eye-ris replied back. She drifted over to Lian, cocking her eyeball slightly with curiousity. “Are you an infant?”

Lian bristled. “Definitely not.”

“You are dwarf of your species then. I see. Your diminutive height confused me,” Eye-ris replied.

Jazz interrupted before Lian could start a fight. “Eye-ris doesn’t mean to offend you. She’s just never seen a human child before.”

Eye-ris scoffed. “I totally have. King Phantom showed us Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

“Eye-ris, that’s a cartoon.”

Eye-ris scoffed. “It still showed me everything I need to know about humans.”

“I love that show!” Lian exclaimed. “Who’s your favorite? What bender would you be?”

Eye-ris seemed to perk up with Lian’s questions, even while Roy grumbled in the background about his daughter needing more lessons in recognizing dangerous individuals. It practically harmonized with Jazz, who was muttering something under her breath about Danny giving eyelets unrealistic expectations about the Mortal Realm.  

Lian and Eye-ris chattered happily about cartoons and it struck Jason that the eyeball ghost was a kid. Not that Jason was all that surprised from the file on Eye-saac from the Justice League meeting. But still. Hard to think about when you had an eyeball the size of a melon staring at you.

“Eye-ris is considered a juvenile ghost, if that helps,” Jazz told Roy. “She’s more likely to make friends with Lian than attack her.”

“She’s just a kid?” Roy confirmed.

Jazz nodded.

Roy relaxed some, but now most of his anxiety was over the werewolf who barely fit through his doorway.

In the meantime, Lian and Eye-ris’ conversation had moved to more personal topics. The eyelet was only encouraging future bad habits as she explained to Lian how she was a diplomatic envoy in training for King Phantom, but she really just liked exploring other sections of the Ghost Zone. Lian was enthralled. Definitely problems for Roy later on. Good thing Jason was just an uncle.

Jazz turned on Jason. “Where’s your phone? Your family is frothing at the teeth to know you’re okay.”

Jason looked to Roy, because he knew if he stared at Jazz he’d stumble out something embarrassing about how Jazz was the essence of beauty. “Surely Dick must have reached out if something happened. Didn’t you text him I’m fine?”

Roy shrugged. “Didn’t know if you wanted the rest of the family to know you were here. You said you didn’t want to talk to them when you showed up. I’m pretty sure Dick knows though. My deception skills rarely hold up under his scrutiny.”

Jazz sighed. “Again, where is your phone?”

Jason shrugged. “Ditched it when I fled Gotham. Didn’t want the family tracking me.”

Jazz muttered something about “ghosts of a feather.”

“You really are an idiot,” Roy told Jason.

He turned to Jazz. “So you’re here for a check-in. What’s with the spooky werewolf and eyeball?”

“They’re our ride. Wulf makes portals, and Eye-ris is under his care, so wherever Wulf goes, she goes.”

“I’m not going back. You can tell ‘em I’m fine, but I need time to cool down,” Jason said.

Jazz cocked her head. “You don’t even know what happened last night, do you?”

Jason tensed.

“The GIW have Lady Gotham and your Fraid-member, Alfred. Danny and the Gotham vigilantes are calling their allies for war.”

Jason’s veins flooded with ice. The GIW caught Alfred. The GIW have Alfred. Alfred who had just revealed he was a ghost a couple nights ago. The last thing Jason had said to him…he wasn’t even sure. But he remembered the pain in his pseudo-grandfather’s eyes as he’d walked out of the dining room and the manor. He…Alfred must think he hated him. And if the GIW had his hands on him, he might never know otherwise. Jason was mad at Alfred, yes. Alfred was the one Wayne he’d never thought would lie to him. The one rock who Jason could lean on, and yet he’d hidden the very nature of his being from them all. Jason was furious at Alfred, yes, but he still loved him. And now that he knew Alfred was in danger that anger felt hollow and childish. Jason felt like he’d just been sucker-punched in the center of his chest, something inside him keening with distress.

Lian looked up sharply. “War? Does this have to do with the ghost laws the news have been blabbering on about?”

“How do you know that?” Roy demanded.

“Just because I think the news is boring doesn’t mean I don’t have ears,” Lian countered.

Eye-ris slipped next to Jason. “Your core is crying,” she said bluntly.

Jason grimaced at the child. He was not sure what the eyelet was trying to accomplish with that, until she started humming. Humming like the buzz of bees’ wings and the muted static of a television without signal. It was oddly soothing. As if Jason’s soul was being wrapped in a hug. She held Jason’s hand with one of her small, green hands tipped in claws that mimicked Wulf’s long claws.

Jazz stared at them with a soft smile. She nodded to Eye-ris as if telling her she was doing a good job.

“Ni devas iri, ni malŝparas tempon,” Wulf huffed.

“It will take time to gather everyone,” Jazz countered.

“Malpli da tempo kun nia helpo.”

Jazz sighed and turned back to Roy and Jason. “Can we speed this along? Wulf’s nature means he is impatient to help his King. I can answer your questions just as easily in Gotham.”

Jason snorted, feeling a bit more stable after Eye-ris’ help. “Unlikely. Minute you step foot in the vicinity of my family they’ll be just as insistent for answers.”

“Are we going too, Dad?” Lian asked.

“No,” Roy said. “I’m not letting you anywhere near this mess.”

“Why not?” Lian whined. “Eye-ris is helping and she’s younger than me!”

“Eye-ris is a ghost. And she’s not my kid.”

Jazz reassured Lian. “Eye-ris won’t be fighting either. None of the eyelets will.”

Now Eye-ris was the petulant one. Her ghostly aura flashed. “I need to help my King. It is my duty.”

“King Phantom will barely let fully mature ghosts help. He’s not going to bring ghostlings into battle.”

Eye-ris glared. “I’m more powerful than the fragile mortals he’s chosen to ally himself with.”

“Fragile mortals aren’t affected by GIW weapons like you are,” Jazz argued. “No fighting Guys In White and that’s final.”

Eye-ris grumbled curses in Esperanto, crossing her arms and buzzing with frustration. She really was just a kid, creepy emotion perceptiveness aside.

Lian leaned over the couch back to whisper something to Eye-ris. It didn’t take long before they were both whispering back and forth.

Roy turned on Jason. “Follow the nice lady, her werewolf, and the werewolf’s eyeball child back home before said eyeball child conspires with my daughter any further.”

“You’re kicking me out?” Jason asked, hand going to his heart in mock offense.

“Alfred’s in trouble, your family is on the warpath. The only thing keeping you here from rushing to join them is your pig-headedness. So go on, get out of here.”

Wulf nodded, taking that as his cue to open a glowing green portal with his claws in the middle of the Harpers’ living room. “Ni iras nun.”

Jazz held out a hand to Jason. “Promise it’s safe,” she said.

And that odd center of feeling in the Jason’s chest fully trusted her. Though Jason already felt like if Jazz told him to “jump,” he wouldn’t even hesitate to ask, “how high?”

Wulf dragged Eye-ris away by her hoodies, grumbling at her, “Vi povas viziti novan amikon poste. Diru adiaŭ.”

“Adiaŭ, human child,” Eye-ris waved, letting her mentor drag her away. “Remember our pact.”

Lian put her fist to her heart and bowed, so that meant inevitable trouble later on. Good thing Jason didn’t have to deal with it.

Roy hugged Jason good-bye before turning to his daughter. The last things Jason heard before following Jazz through the portal was him admonishing, “And you thought you could be normal. No normal human randomly befriends an eyeball on sight.”

Followed by Lian’s rebuke, “normal is overrated anyway. Eyeballs are cool.”

It had been a while since Jason had seen the Batcave so tense. Which was saying something considering they all flung themselves into dangerous situations nearly every night. Not even counting all the catastrophes on both the Gotham and global scales they dealt with. Bruce was hovering over Tim’s shoulder while he typed away at the BatComputer, consulting with Oracle over video call. Dick meanwhile, flung himself across the cave and tackled Jason in one of his octopus hugs the minute he stepped through Wulf’s portal.

“Little Wing! You’re okay!” Dick exclaimed. “Where the frick-frack-frank have you been?”

“And who are these interlopers?” Damian asked, stepping forward and drawing his katana to wave threateningly at Jazz, Wulf and Eye-ris.

“Whoa, chill, Robin. That’s my sister, Jazz. Definitely friendly,” Phantom flew between Damian and Jazz with raised hands. Hovering near Phantom’s shoulder was a horrifying hawk-like ghost with four arms and glowing yellow eyes. It chittered hungrily at Jason, and he wondered how the hell Phantom had gotten away with bringing such a ghost into the cave. Batman must be concerningly compromised by Alfred’s kidnapping.

“And the others?” Damian demanded.

Danny’s mouth quirked. “Eye-ris is one my eyelets. She follows around Wulf, a member of my diplomatic corps and one of my best ghost friends.”

This was proven when Wulf stepped forward and embraced Phantom in a hug with a loud proclamation of “Mia amiko!”

“Wulf! You’re crushing me!” Danny responded. And the hug quickly devolved into a playful wrestling match. Damian lowered his blade. In fact, he looked faintly jealous.

Jazz entertained herself by cooing at the bird-like ghost, who chittered happily under Jazz’s pets. It didn’t take long for it to detach itself from Danny and hover around Jazz, practically preening with the new attention. No fear whatsoever from Jasmine Fenton. Jason just fell a little more smitten with her.

Cass dropped down from somewhere in full Black Bat costume. In fact, everyone was costumed up, leaving Jason the odd vigilante out. “Cass,” she pointed to herself.

“And I’m Steph! Or Spoiler, if we’re out in the field,” the blonde skipped over with one of her wicked smiles.

Steph practically cooed at Eye-ris, who was currently hunched a bit with her hands stuffed in her sweatshirt pocket. “I am loving that sweatshirt, girl!”

Eye-ris stared at Steph, and kudos to the blonde, because she didn’t even flinch from the giant, red-eyed stare. When Eye-ris finally replied, she said, “I like you too. Very Ty Lee energy.”

Steph faltered for only a moment. “Like…in Avatar?”

Fear Eater draped themselves over Jazz’s shoulder as Jazz turned her attention to her brother. She pulled Danny from his play fight with Wulf by his cape. “Yeah, about that. You cannot just show the eyelets Avatar: The Last Airbender and consider that enough for their education on modern human culture.”

“It’s not!” Danny complained. “And even it was, why not? It has everything: drama, humor, life lessons…”

“They’re going to think humans have magic powers!”

“Some do,” Danny defended weakly.

“It doesn’t even take place on Earth!”

In the meantime, Tim and Bruce had barely even noticed the newcomers to the Cave. Both were too engrossed talking to Oracle about the GIW and something to do with fear gas.

“I know there’s more important things to be worrying about,” Tim responded to Oracle. “I just have a feeling that Lady Gotham’s capture was important, but it’s not the worst crime they’ve committed in this city. I interviewed Nightmare Fuel myself. The GIW are at least partnering with Crane. If so, they’re going to want to make sure their work here continues unimpeded. We need to find out where they’re hiding in Gotham and send a strike team. They’ll probably make a stand somewhere else, so we’re focused on whatever public event they’ve staged to spin ghosts in a negative light, away from their shadier operations. We can’t let them continue lurking in the dark. We need to expose everything.”

Batman grunted in a way that conveyed, “it’s worth considering.”

“Fine,” Oracle replied. “But I still think there’s more important things to be worrying about. Especially if we want to launch an immediate rescue mission.”

Jason walked up to them and greeted, “Not even worried about the random ghosts in the cave? Who are you and what have you done with Batman?”

Batman sighed. “It is necessary to give Phantom and his allies access to the Watchtower and our resources for proper collaboration,” he said aloud, because grunts couldn’t convey everything no matter how much Bruce wanted them to.

Tim greeted Jason by chucking a phone over his shoulder that would have hit Jason’s face if his reflexes were any slower. “Stop ditching your phone every time you have an emotion, asshole. B was emotionally stunted enough with just Alfred missing.”

“Language,” was all B said, because someone had to with Alfred gone.

“So, what’s the plan, Timmers?” Jason asked.

Tim ignored Jason to converse with Babs over something about an arson case. B replied instead, “We’re convening in the Watchtower to consult with the Justice League and certain members of Phantom’s court. Actions from GIW indicate an escalation of the crisis. We need to enact counter measures before they attack again.”

“Where are we expecting them to attack?”

“Gotham,” Phantom answered.

Tim shook his head. “It’s illogical. They’ve already attacked here once. And they have sensitive operations here.”

“Except the GIW aren’t logical. They are reactive and they are working under false assumptions about ghosts.”

“And you expect them to attack in Gotham next?” B asked.

“Tim is right. It’s too stupid. Better to attack somewhere we can’t predict,” Jason said.

“They’re not being practical, they’re making it personal,” Jazz remarked from right behind Jason and startling him. “Gotham is the first place Phantom has been observed engaging the GIW outside of Amity Park. And Phantom has been the priority ever since they found out he was king. Their priority will be taking him out.”

“They think ghosts are like bees, and if they take away the monarch, the entire hive will die,” Tim realized out loud.

“Precisely. They already think they’ve weakened the local ghosts by taking out Lady Gotham.” Phantom chuckled. “Except they forgot this is Gotham. All they’ve done is stir the hive into a frenzy. Gotham’s ghosts are going to be out for blood.”

“Gotham similas al la Senfinaj Regnoj. Se Reĝo Fantomo perdas, la Antikvuloj detruos ĉi tiun universon” Wulf added on. Which Jason understood the barebones of: if Phantom falls, so does their world.

“Hey, it won’t come to that,” Phantom promised.

“Especially if you stop limiting yourself, King Phantom,” Eye-ris said from her spot on Danny’s hip where he held her.  “You could obliterate the Guys In White all on your own with a single wail.”

“And all of Gotham in the process,” Danny reprimanded. “What has Wulf been teaching you?”

Wulf shrugged. “Pli bone por ŝi lerni mordi forte kaj rapide ol montri sian ventron al ŝiaj malamikoj.”

“I like this one,” Damian announced, standing by Wulf’s side. Unsurprising he’d warmed up to the giant werewolf that believed in reciprocal justice.

Wulf grinned, sharp-toothed and rumbling with affection. “Ankaŭ vi estas estimata, juna militisto. Mi antaŭĝojas batali ĉe via flanko.”

Damian flushed and returned in perfect Esperanto, “mi antaŭĝojas batali kun vi ankaŭ.” Where had the kid even picked that up?

“So everything is going down in Gotham?” Duke confirmed. He turned to Batman. “How are you feeling about that, B?”

Batman’s grunt was strangled with discomfort.

“Are you kidding, man? This is Alfred on the line. Forget B, we’re gonna call in every hero, vigilante, ghost, and ally we got until these guys are crushed,” Steph announced.

“Seconded,” Damian replied, which showed how much everyone was truly stressed if the demon brat were willing to let other people come into their stomping grounds.

“Already on it. Justice League is gathering in the Watchtower for an Emergency Meeting, I have Catwoman, Harley Quinn and Posion Ivy on standby, and the Teen Titans are also clamoring to help,” Oracle reported.

“Also reach out to Vlad Masters. No need to go revealing identities. But we’re going to want his expertise,” Tim said.

Phantom spluttered. “Why in the Realms do you need that Fruitloop’s help?”

Tim grinned. “Because I just got some rather interesting intel, and frankly, I don’t want anyone from outside of Gotham having to deal with the likes of Scarecrow. More help raises our chances for success.”

“Scarecrow?!” Several people exclaimed.

Jason cussed. “What’s that asshole up to now? Didn’t we just put him away?”

“How trustworthy is this intel?” Bruce growled.

“Oh, not at all,” Tim dismissed. “But we can’t really afford the risk if it’s accurate, and we ignore it. Besides, it makes sense.” Tim proceeded to ramble without context that left Jason’s thoughts buzzing with confusion at what exactly Red Robin had been up to lately. “You all have noticed Crane has been more active lately and I had a feeling there was an unknown variable to his attack at Gotham U. And Nightmare Fuel’s testimony of his death also had me questioning if there might be a link between Scarecrow and the GIW. This intel verifies it.”

“What’s the intel?” Cass signed.

“A GIW agent in street clothes left a 9-1-1 tip. From his testimony, it appears GIW operations in Gotham are bigger and nastier than we thought. They have been working with Scarecrow and his fear gas formula to experiment on ecto-entities.”

“Could be a trap,” Dick pointed out, approaching the BatComputer to read the transcript.

“Almost definitely. GIW are fanatics. How dumb do they think we are?” Phantom scoffed.

“Either way, we can’t ignore this,” Oracle argued. “Two words for you all: ‘ghost rabies.’”

The entire room shivered.

“Like Cujo?” Damian asked. And Jason had no idea how Damian knew about popular horror films, let alone what relevance they had to the conversation.

Tim’s expression was thoughtful. “That case also supports this agent’s claim. Does ‘Operation Lyssa’ mean anything to you all?”

There was silence from everyone in the cave. But something sparked Jason’s memory. Back when he was younger and went through mythology phase. “Lyssa is the name of a Greek minor goddess, in charge of rage and rabies. She gave Hercules madness that caused him to kill his wife.”

“Ghost rabies,” Cass echoed softly.

The temperature of the Cave began to drop. The small core in the center of Jason’s chest flickered to attention towards his King. Danny was still in Phantom form, but it began to take on harsh edges and power wafted off of him. “They’re turning ghosts rabid.”

“And they’re going to unleash them on Gotham,” Steph said, horrified.

“It’s exactly the sort of attack that would sway the public to advocate the Anti-Ecto Acts,” Jazz replied logically, but her tone betrayed her fury underneath.

“But what does any of this have to do with Vlad?” Phantom asked.

“Because he and your parents had the first designs for anti-ghost tech. They are the pioneers of the field, and we need tech that can subdue ghosts safely and humanely if the GIW is utilizing rabid ghosts,” Tim explained. “And with as much faith I have on our allies, they aren’t going to read a dossier of GIW weapons specs in time. We need an expert to arm us and present what exactly we’ll be facing out there.”

“Danny knows just as much if not more about ghost tech,” Jazz defended.

“I know. But Danny is Phantom. He has a bigger role to play than just weapons specialist, and if I stretch him too thin, it could lower our chances of success.”

Jazz looked a bit like she wanted to protest some more, but Danny put a hand on her shoulder, his gaze pensive while he bit his lip. Finally, he replied. “Alright. But if you’re calling Vlad, may as well call the Fentons too. They designed more of the tech that modern GIW weapons are based off of, and the best way to capture ghosts humanely is still the Fenton thermos. They may have other stuff that will help.”

Tim’s calculating gaze softened in sympathy as his boyfriend talked.

“Are you sure?” Jazz asked.

Phantom reassured Jazz with a squeeze to her shoulder. “We need all the help we can get. And…and I know they’re trying to be better.”

Tim nodded once. “Alright, should we contact them or one of you?”

Jazz pulled out her cellphone. “I’ll do it. I know how to handle them.” She walked off to talk privately – or as private as you could get in the Batcave – Fear Eater trailing after her for more pets.

“Where are we even gathering?” Dick asked. “With ghost-hunters, ghosts, and other non-affiliates of the JL, I don’t think Batcave is the best place.”

Batman was silent, thinking.

“We can use Mount Justice. It’s barely used these days, and it’s already a publicly recognized JL property,” Tim replied instead. “Phantom and his associates can use portals both to get there and also transport everyone in the event of an early GIW attack.”

Everyone looked to Tim. When exactly had he become in charge of this operation anyway?

Batman grunted an affirmative, but it was clear by the tone he wasn’t very happy with it.

“Damn, I wanted to go to space again,” Phantom pouted.

Tim rolled his eyes. “I’ll take you on a date to the moon if you want when this is all over.”

“So what next? Not all of us will be needed at the big briefing. Some of us can get started on intelligence gathering. Should we pay our old pal, Scarecrow a visit?” Steph asked.

“You know what, Spoiler, I think we shall.”  Tim grinned, and Jason was so glad this particular chaos gremlin never become a super villain.

Chapter Text

There was no way to measure time within a ghost containment device. When Alfred finally emerged in a flash of light in the brightly lit lab, he wasn’t sure if it had been hours or days since the ill-fated battle against the GIW. It didn’t help that as a ghost, mortal time was always difficult to quantify. His sense of timeliness came more from an instinct of knowing precisely when he would be needed rather than any sort of internal clock. It was then that Alfred remembered the timepiece in his person from the Ancient of Time. He didn’t dare pull it out surrounded by humans in white suits and labcoats, but feeling it tick near his core was a comfort all the same.

Alfred flicked his eyes around the lab. It was brightly lit, but beyond the florescent lighting and stainless steel tables, he saw the darkness of Gotham bricks. Old brick most commonly found in the labyrinth of old sewers underneath the city, often times connected to ancient cave pockets that extended all the way to Bristol.

“No evidence of permanent damage during containment and transport indicated on Specimen 5-12-97,” a lab-coated agent spoke into a voice recorder.

Alfred raised a hand and tried moving it in front of him. He was unsurprised when he felt the resistance of some sort of electrical forcefield that disrupted his ectoplasm. He shook his hand to remove the brief sensation of needles in his hand, the ectoplasm reforming into his preferred shape subconsciously.

“Don’t even think about it, spook,” a regular agent threatened, pointing the barrel of a glowing ray gun at Alfred. “Put one ectoplasmic toe out of line and you’re history.”

Alfred didn’t bother to reply. All evidence compiled by his family, and Phantom and his associates suggested engaging with the GIW would prove fruitless.

“Power levels suggest a transplant specimen, but initial tests on ectoplasmic samples indicate local origins,” another GIW scientist reported across the room. Alfred took in the various scientists and their remarks with stoicism even though inwardly his core wrung itself in violated disgust. How dare they! If Alfred were a less patient ghost he might have tired himself out to escape their probing, but he knew he would need all his wits and energy possible to escape this lab, hopefully with any other prisoners of the GIW in tow.

Alfred was only certain how long the GIW’s observations and tests lasted by the steady ticking of the clock in his chest. And he had little to do other than focus on the seconds. Especially as the tests grew more invasive and it was all he could focus on to keep from screaming. Especially once they had him strapped to a table and cut him apart, searching for his core.

Five hours, thirteen minutes, and twenty-seven seconds later, the lead scientist finally pronounced their tests over with. It should have been a relief. Especially since their latest test included clamping his core in ectoplasmic-coated forceps while they poked and prodded. He had been so certain at one point they would do something permanent to his core, Ending him in the middle of testing. But Alfred was still conscious and present, even while fear pulsed through his core like a panicked heartbeat.

Because if their tests were done, what could they have planned for Alfred now?

“Is the specimen ready?” Dr. Jonathan Crane – long time rogue of Gotham under the alias of Scarecrow – stepped into the room. He wore just a simple lab coat over a patchwork suit rather than the mask and costume he usually donned during his own experiments. Perhaps a stipulation of the GIW for their collaboration. Crane carried a small case and Alfred knew from past history it held nothing good.

“Specimen 5-12-97 has been uncharacteristically docile. It may not do much to this one,” A GIW agent warned.

Alfred tilted his head back and closed his eyes to subdue the rush of fear and fury that surged in his core. He was bound in ectoplasmic restraints, his core laid bare and so, so vulnerable. How he wanted to fight, but all his attempts to lockpick or wriggle from the restraints had proven fruitless. Everything in him rebelled at the thought he may just have to wait for help to come.

Dr. Crane chuckled as he removed an injection filled with poisonous green liquid. “It may appear calm, but I can practically taste its fear. And I heard the reports from those agents present at its capture. This one is not to be underestimated. I expect its reaction to the formula to be rather exceptional.”

Alfred stared at the green liquid, so reminiscent of poisonous pools and his grandson’s rage-filled eyes. What in the Ancients’ names had these fools been messing with?

Another GIW agent scoffed. “You almost make it sound like it’s intelligent.”

Crane hummed, tapping the vial to remove the bubbles. “There is no arguing with results. My chemicals are made to enhance fear. And how else could a creature fear if it could not also think?”

“What’s the hold up, Crane?” Another agent asked, likely one of the organization’s leaders from the way the entire room stiffened to attention at his arrival.

“Just savoring the moment. I have a feeling this will be a special one,” Crane said with a malevolent smile.

Alfred waited until Crane was close, the needle inches from his core. Then, his mortal appearance molded some of his ectoplasmic energy in the facsimile of human saliva. Shortly followed by him immediately spitting it in the face of the disgraced chemist.

Crane whirled back in surprise briefly and Alfred used the opportunity to let his eyes and fangs flash at the Gotham rogue. “May my Fraid hunt you down before I do, for their morals are more rigid than my own. Your end is nigh, Jonathan Crane.”

Alfred felt satisfaction at the small ripple of fear emanating from Crane. Only briefly before Crane snarled and plunged the needle into Alfred’s core. Immediately, pain spasmed through Alfred, unlike anything he felt from the previous tests.

He only barely managed to catch Crane’s departing remark before Alfred lost conscious entirely. “How will you ever accomplish that, if you won’t even be able to recognize yourself?”

John Constantine cursed as he pulled back just before a nasty putrefaction hex could snag itself on his magic. “These arseholes really just threw every nasty buggering thing they could find and hoped for the best.”

“Language, Constantine, there children listening in,” Dead Pharoh – some kind of mostly human ally to Phantom – reprimanded.

“Eye-saac has heard far worse from me already, I assure you,” Constantine huffed. He proceeded to rifle through his pockets for a particular Egyptian amulet that should theoretically counter the putrefaction hex. He’d been chipping away at the GIW wards with the rest of Justice League Dark for ages now, and they were running out of time according to Red Robin’s insanely meticulous and complex operation. And he had thought Batman was bad…

Eye-saac – blessedly safe away from the trouble Constantine was dealing with for once – piped up over the communications link, his ghostliness disrupting the signal some. “It’s true! Uncle Johnny has already taught me so much! Like F – “

“And that’s enough of that. Eye-ris doesn’t need to hear it,” Oracle’s firm voice interrupted.

“Nah, let the eyelets say ‘fuck,’” another of Phantom’s allies – some kid named Wes who absurdly decided to make his codename ‘Truther’ of all things – interjected.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Eye-saac pouted.

“Alright, let’s cut the idle chatter,” Zatanna reprimanded. “We need to focus. Marvel, I need a power boost to cut through this sigil.”

Cyborg shooed away Captain Marvel who was helping set up and monitor signal hotspots for the Tech team to counter the coding side of GIW defenses. Marvel darted over to Zatanna. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he let the magician draw some of his power as Champion of Magic to dismantle a sigil that was probably meant to spark hellfire but would actually summon a demon once activated. Though Constantine thought fighting a demon would almost be relief at the moment compared to dealing with the nuclear-level amalgamation of magical defenses the GIW put together.  

The entire cave flared with cleansing white light of the combined magical energies, filling the air with the smell of an electrical fire. When the light dissipated and Constantine blinked to regain his sight, the former sigil was nothing but scorched earth.

“A little warning next time, please,” Raven grumbled across the clearing where she appeared to be meditating, but Constantine had a feeling she was probably utilizing some of her chaos magic to brunt force her way through a particularly tangled bit of GIW security. Either that or she was projecting her soul self somewhere that the rest of them couldn’t physically reach.

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit overkill?” Captain Marvel asked, resuming his task of keeping magical defenses from interfering with Oracle and Dead Pharoh’s technology.

“There is no such word to the Guys in White,” Truther replied.

“Stay in your lane, Truther. I’m on Team Takedown,” Dead Pharaoh reprimanded. “And to answer your question, Captain, the GIW weren’t exactly tactful about security. Basically, as soon as they came across something new they just piled it on to all the other junk they already have. It’s why none of our attempts to truly breach their security has worked. Honestly, it’s a miracle nothing blew up the first time someone crossed over the boundry.”

The ghosts and ghost-adjacents on the communication link snickered at the play on words. Fucking liminals.

With the putrefaction hex finally taken down, absorbed by the amulet, Constantine began to search for the next magical snag demanding attention. He wandered a bit through the forest until a ring of red flowers and green glow caught his eye. As Constantine crept closer, horror filled him at the sight of the next defense. He reached for his flask to take a sip, because he knew if he didn’t have his mouth occupied, he’d let out a string of foul language that even Eye-saac hadn’t heard from him yet.

Raven – likely sensing the sharp uptick in panic and rage from Constantine – tilted her head towards him. “What have you found?”

“I found the bloody keystone holding this whole clusterfuck of a minefield together,” he complained.

“I thought you said it was just dumb luck holding everything together?” Eye-saac piped up.

“I was wrong, kid. Turns out no one can be that lucky. The only reason this hasn’t all imploded is because of a very determined entity holding it together through sheer willpower.” Constantine stared at the small flickering light of a glass-like orb trapped in some kind of electric-ectoplasmic hybrid net. Ringing around the set up, crimson flowers had been planted. Constantine suspected blood blossoms, which might just be the human equivalent of sitting in asbestos lined box. He watched the orb flicker again. “And I don’t think there’s much willpower left.”

Deadman – who had mostly been on standby in case any rabid ghosts attacked the team – glitched in discomfort. “Th-that’s a ghost core,” he said. “That’s…oh Rama, that’s a ghost core!”

“Cyborg! Need your tech stat!” Constantine barked.

“Hang in there, ghosty, we’ll get you out,” Deadman soothed as he hovered overhead.

Constantine paused as he was about to start dismantling wards. “Is that such a good idea?”

“Excuse me?” Deadman barked. “They are a core! That’s basically a ghostly coma. And it looks like soon they won’t even be that!”

“I know that! But they are still the only thing keeping this network of death and destruction from imploding, and taking all of us with it.”

Captain Marvel jogged up with Cyborg, Zatanna close behind. “What are you talking about?”

“A ghost core – trapped in wards and some kind of electrical ectoplasmic shield is somehow connected to the whole network of GIW security.”

Deadman floated towards the core but flinched away the moment he brushed against the red flowers surrounding it. “I can’t tell what the ghost is like. Not without touching them. And there’s no way I’m getting through the blood blossoms.”

“Are you telling me there’s a ghost core holding up GIW security? Will their hypocrisy never end?!” Dead Pharoh bemoaned.

“Describe the core, Uncle Johnny,” Eye-saac requested.

“Uh….well, it’s green. Kind of translucent. I don’t know, sprog, it just looks like a glowing green marble.”

“We should call Sk-eye. They’re best at ghost classification,” Eye-ris – the other eyelet helping them out – said. “I can get them and portal us both on site.”

“No. We’re not bringing you tykes on site. Absolutely not,” Constantine replied.

“It’s not even active combat!” Eye-ris protested. “This is what I’m here for!”

“Phantom will kill us all if something happens to you, eyelets,” Constantine argued.

“Only for quick in and out,” Dead Pharoh compromised. “And any sign of white suits, they’re out.”

“You going to explain that Phantom?” Captain Marvel asked, bemused.

“Nah, I’ll just say the eyelets went rogue again. Won’t be the first time, won’t be the last,” Dead Pharoh replied, prompting immediate protests from Eye-ris and Eye-saac.

“Fine. Send the kids in,” Zatanna sighed. Under Constantine’s glare, she stiffened. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s dangerous,” Constantine growled. “One wrong move and most of these abominations the GIW calls security are rigged to take out ghosts specifically.”

“Careful, Constantine, you almost sound like you care,” Deadman teased.

Constantine didn’t reply to that. He couldn’t. Because somehow – against all his willpower and protests – he’d come to like the pernicious little ghostling Phantom had dropped on him. Even though all the things that should annoy Constantine – from the constant badgering about his soul to the fearless hunting down of demonic entities – only made him all the fonder of the kid. To admit he cared might put Eye-saac in danger, and that was unacceptable.

A green portal ripped between Zatanna and Captain Marvel. Two eyelets exited, the taller of them, Eye-ris, looked smug for getting her way. The smaller one swiveled their eye in awe as they gaped at the mortal realm. They were dressed in an overly large cable knit sweater, and the arms of it flopped about some as they gestured their excitement.

“This is amazing, Eye-ris! And you’re certain Phantom’s okay with us being here?”

“Practically encouraged us, Sk-eye.”

“Wowzers! The sky is so weird.”

“Enough dallying. Get over here and help,” Constantine huffed. He was already attached to one pesky ghostling, he didn’t need to get attached to any more.

“Be nice to my siblings,” Eye-saac chastened over the comms. At least his eyelet had the sense to stay in Oracle’s tower where it was safe.

The eyelets approached the core but stayed far enough so as not to be close to the crimson flowers ringing it. Sk-eye crouched to get a better look, humming thoughtfully as they inspected the core.

“Whatcha think, Sk-eye?” Captain Marvel asked.

Sk-eye proceeded to push back a sweater sleeve so they could dig a small green hand into their chest. They ended up pulling out a thick binder that absolutely should not have fit in the twiggy little body. Sk-eye proceeded to rifle through plastic protected pages filled with writing and childish drawings of assorted types of ghosts.

“The color is not of the Realms, but it is a close fit,” Sk-eye reported. “Glossiness indicates a haunt-focused obsession. Haunt protection based? Difficult to tell precisely the type with the prolonged blood blossom exposure. Unless…” Sk-eye’s mumblings soon turned into squeaks and chitters of ghost speak. Constantine didn’t understand any of it. But Deadman and Eye-ris seemed to grow more surprised as Sk-eye continued.

“Really? I didn’t think Amity Park was old enough yet,” Eye-ris remarked.

Sk-eye hummed thoughtfully. “Age doesn’t really matter. It’s about the history, the energy, and the culture. Athens took a couple centuries to properly form, but Babylon practically sprung up with the city’s first huts.”

“What precisely are you suggesting, sprog?” Constantine demanded.

Sk-eye’s red eye turned up to Constantine and it seemed to compress slightly in excitement. “I think that the core is Amity Park’s spirit!”

Dead Pharoh and Truther exploded over the comms until Oracle silenced them. Everyone in the clearing looked some variation of sick and sorrowful.

Constantine was speechless. He stared down the hill to the city below still encased in a sickly magic keeping it from the outside world. Nausea churned in his gut. This was worse than anything he could have imagined. The GIW had captured the city’s own spirit, using their instinct to protect their city against them by keeping the network of GIW security from interfering with each other, but in a coma-like state so the ghost couldn’t even be conscious enough to disable any of the defenses it was forced to oversee.

“Gods…” Captain Marvel’s voice quavered, likely that Wisdom of Solomon kicking in to realize the same thing. “They’re using their obsession against them.”

“We didn’t even know there was a spirit of Amity Park,” Dead Pharoh said softly.

“Doesn’t matter now. What matters is we’re getting them back,” Truther insisted. “Now the question is, how do we get them out?”

Eye-ris looked over to Captain Marvel. “You’re the Champion of Magic, right?”

The Captain looked at the eyelet, a bit nervous under the intensity of her gaze. “Yes?”

“I think I have an idea.”

And Constantine knew from his own experience with eyeball ghostlings that meant they should all be very concerned.   

Sam Manson did not regret spending her young adult life traveling the world to help in ecological conservation. She considered it her calling, and a way to live out the rest of her rebellious years before finally settling on a college and career path. Naturally, a career that would allow her to continue her work in ecological conservation on a larger scale. But times like these when she had been thrust into some kind of convoluted plan by Danny’s new billionaire boyfriend to finally take down the GIW, she wished she had better communications to give context to whatever chaos Danny was in the middle of now.

Instead, Wulf and Jazz had shown up to her latest worksite saying Danny needed her help. Then whisked her away to some old Justice League headquarters where Red Robin – who just so happened to be Danny’s billionaire boyfriend (not that anyone told her, but she could recognize Danny simping over someone from a mile away) – outlining a plan to the world’s most prominent heroes and Danny’s most trusted warriors of his court.

She was still catching up on the context, but the basic gist of it was the Bats and ghosts would wage war against the GIW in Gotham while the Justice League exposed Amity Park to the world.

Initially she was slotted to help coordinate the different teams with Tucker and Wes in a Clocktower in Gotham.

“Hell no,” she had said to that. “You all are dealing with rabid ghosts? Give me some wrist rays and thermoses. I’ve been dealing with ghosts since I was fourteen.”

Danny’s parents had frowned across the room where they’d been explaining the Fenton Foamer to Green Arrow but paused at Sam’s vehemence. Sam didn’t even bother trying to figure out what that meant.

Surprisingly, it was Vlad Masters who rose to her defense, who had been deep in conversation with Red Robin. “Miss Manson is rather formidable with Fenton weaponry, and proficient in non-lethally containing ghosts. Perhaps only exceeded by Phantom and Red Huntress.”

There were further protests from the adults, but Sam had stared down Ancients. She could handle a bunch of heroes in tights claiming to think they knew better.

“You’ll be on the Gotham Infiltration Team with me,” Red Robin finally decided, settling the matter.

Sam blinked in surprise. “Not Amity Park?”

Red Robin had grinned and replied, “like you said, you know how to deal with ghosts.”

And now Sam was here, crawling through Gotham sewers with ghost-finding tech, regretting her decision to speak up. Particularly as her shoe squelched in something wet and squishy. She didn’t even bother flashing her light on it to see, because she knew it would probably be worse than whatever her imagination could come up with. She missed the jungle with passion. At least there she could hazard a guess what gross things she’d be stepping on in the middle of the night.

“Why are you all so confident the GIW are holed up in the sewers anyway?” She asked. Because she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Because if they were above ground someone somewhere would have ratted them out by now,” Nightwing chirped from up ahead – far too cheery considering their current locale.

“Gothamites don’t agree on much, but we all hate when outsiders try to interfere in our city. Especially if they’re bureaucrats,” Red Robin continued.

“Huh, sounds like Amity Park,” Wes – who chose the absolute bonkers codename of Truther – piped up over the comms despite supposedly being busy with his own tasks.

“Unsurprising,” Jazz remarked. “When there are cases like Amity Park where calls for government aid are either ignored or fail to see any markable change, faith in government entities reduces significantly leading to outright distrust and animosity.” Ancients, she was such a nerd.

 “So naturally you decided to send in heroes from the group known for being government lackeys; that makes great sense,” Sam remarked.

“They would be just as unwelcome in Gotham,” Red Robin remarked. “This city is well known for hating outside interference, legal or not.”

“I blame Batman. He set a terrible example,” Nightwing said, and proceeded to mimic Batman’s growly voice, “I am vengeance, I am night, stay out of my city. No Metas In Gotham. I can handle everything on my own.”

“We can all hear you, Nightwing,” Batman growled over comms.

Nightwing grinned in victory. “Just lightening the mood, B.”

Red Robin’s lips quirked in a smile.

Yeah, they were definitely all related. Damn, this meant Wes was right. Bruce Wayne was Batman.

One of the ecto-trackers in Jazz’s hands began to beep. “I’ve picked something up. Turn left at the next intersection.”

“Same here,” Red Robin announced, his own tracker beeping.

Sam – who was holding a more localized tracker – cross-referenced Red Robin and Jazz’s trackers. Both were picking up multiple ecto-frequencies, which meant multiple ecto-entities. Sam isolated the strongest frequency on her more sensitive tracker. “Ectoplasmic signature locked in. Jazz is right, we’ll turn left up ahead.”

“Okay, let’s keep talking to a minimum from this point on. Stealth when at all possible,” Red Robin commanded.

Fright Knight – who had been silent up to this point – remarked, “I will not fool their sensors, but latch on to me and they shall not see us.” Fright Knight was the only ghost on their team considering they’d been going to the heart of GIW bases within Gotham. He was stronger than most, and his ectoplasm hardier against GIW weapons. Plus, they needed someone with the King’s authority in case any encounters with ecto-entities went sideways. He was bitter about being separated from Phantom for the majority of the mission, but he acquiesced to Red Robin’s plan upon considering the tactical advantage he would bring to the Infiltration Team for Gotham.

Jazz and Sam didn’t hesitate to loop arms with Fright Knight. Nightwing and Red Robin hesitated, but Nightwing did put a hand on Jazz’s shoulder, while Red Robin looped arms with Sam. Invisibly, they all turned the next corner.

The only thing to break the silence of the long walk further into the underground depths was the soft occasional beeps from their trackers that indicated the signal was getting stronger. Sam was so thankful Danny changed the original design of the Fenton ecto-trackers so they didn’t shout at the users anymore.

Around the next corner, they started seeing the low golden light of a bulb emanating from an intersection up ahead. As they crept towards it, Nightwing began scanning with ectoplasm-enhanced Bat technology for any kind of GIW traps. “Electrical field to the right,” he whispered.

Oracle spoke through their comms, “Reading your trackers. Huh. I don’t think we’ve been this far down since we last had to deal with the Court of Owls. It doesn’t look like whatever it is draws power from the grid. Probably have their own energy source. You’ll have to take it down on your own.”

“What’s down this way? What can we expect?” Red Robin whispered as well.

“This area is old. You’re getting into tunnels that are more natural cave systems than manmade network. I’m talking tunnels and wells specially designed to reach underground water sources. Aquifers that still supplement a lot of Gotham’s water even today. And of course, hide some of Gotham’s shadier organizations.”

“If the GIW has somehow found some Talons, I’m going back to Blüdhaven,” Nightwing muttered.

They crept around, stopping just before whatever electrical field guarded the right tunnel. Two white-suited agents clashed horribly with the old brick of Gotham’s underground tunnels. They guarded a rust-covered door.

Red Robin led them all back down the tunnel to speak. “Nightwing and I will take down the guards and whatever defenses they’ve put up. Be on standby in case of any surprises.”

None of them disagreed with Red Robin, but Sam could feel Fright Knight’s aura bristling slightly. He was eager for combat against the enemies of his king. And she knew they wouldn’t be able to hold him back from intervening for long.

With the element of surprise, Nightwing and Red Robin made quick work of the two GIW agents. They were fast enough that even when one of the two Gotham vigilantes set off a green flash from the ectoplasmic field covering the tunnel, the agents could only draw their weapons before they were both swept off their feet and knocked unconscious. Red Robin took a couple minutes to inspect the field and control panel before disabling the alert system and powering it down.

It was efficient and silent, and with any luck, whatever was on the other side of the door had no idea they were down here. The problem was none of them had any idea what was on the other side either.

“Chances the door isn’t phase-proof?” Sam muttered.

“Slim,” Jazz replied back.

“I should try anyway,” Fright Knight determined.

“Hold, it could be trapped,” Red Robin replied. He pulled something out of his wrist gauntlet. It looked like a microchip. Then he slid it through the narrow gap between the floor and the door.

He began to fiddle with the computer on his wrist. Sam easily imagine Tucker sporting similar back in the prime of their vigilantism in Amity Park if he’d had the resources. He must have salivated with envy the first time he saw Red Robin’s fit up close.

“No electricity running through the door, so we can discount it shocking us. Two heat signatures registered in the room beyond. Nightwing?”

“On it.” The blue and black clad vigilante crouched and began to pick the lock on the door while Red Robin looked it over for any sign of other traps.

Fright Knight approached the door too to inspect it and huffed with disgust. “Wards. I assume against my kind.”

“But not certain,” Red Robin said. “We should have poached a magic user for this team.”

Sam shouldered forward. “I know some stuff. I went through some basic magic training until I realized that using magic just paints another target on my back in Amity Park.” She put her hand on the door and closed her eyes, hoping it might heighten her senses to the strands of magic that weaved through the world. She wasn’t great at sensing manmade magic, better attuned to natural plant-based magic ever since Undergrowth favored her. Though she could still tell whatever magic warded the room beyond felt poisonous, but only faintly. So likely intended as a ward against ectoplasmic entities.

“We should be safe. Fright Knight should probably hold back,” she told the others.

The ghost was unamused and frustrated with Sam’s pronouncement.

“Door unlocked. Red?” Nightwing prompted.

“No visible traps. Guess they were relying on wards. Stupid of them. Especially with how overkill they were in Amity Park.”

“Could be they just didn’t have something to blend magic and technology as seamlessly. Reports just came in from Amity Park. They’ve been using the core from the spirit of the town as some sort of hub to keep the various security measures from mixing up,” Oracle reported.

Sam and Jazz exchanged a confused glance. “But Amity Park doesn’t have a spirit,” Jazz whispered. “Right?”

Sam shook her head. She didn’t think so anyway. If Amity Park had a spirit, they probably would have met them. Especially with Danny claiming the town as his haunt for so long. Regardless, using the core of a city spirit would have enough power to hold up the GIW’s cobbled together security network. And it would explain why the GIW defenses in Gotham were so lax in comparison. Sam just hoped they were soon enough to prevent Lady Gotham from suffering a similar fate.

“In,” Nightwing breathed as the door unlocked. The two Gotham vigilantes exchanged a nod, prepped for battle.

The door pushed open with a loud screech from years of disuse. It was less than stealthy, but there was only an agent and a scientist in the room, both looking completely caught off guard by their entrance. Nightwing was across the room in a flash, escrima stick up to the agent’s neck, tasing her before she could even remove her weapon from its holster.

Red Robin launched for the scientist, bo staff drawn. The scientist threw the beaker they were holding in a panicked attempt of self-defense. It was a good thing Red Robin managed to avoid it, because as it shattered on the floor, the bright green substance within immediately began to corrode the brick and concrete underneath. That was not good.

A quick blow across the head and the scientist was out too.

Sam hurried inside once the GIW personnel were down. She felt an itchiness underneath her skin, whatever magic the GIW used attacking her liminal nature. She felt for the source of the magic, a ward carved into the brick behind a lab station. She pulled out the knife she usually kept on her during volunteer work and scored a line through the ward and nullifying it. Instantly, relief flowed through her.

“Clear, Fright Knight!” she said.

Red Robin glared at her, finger to his lips in a shushing motion. Sam bristled. How was she supposed to know they were still supposed to be sneaking?

That was when from beyond another door at the other side of the room, new voices picked up.

Nightwing reported into the comm, “We’ve been made.”

“Scarecrow Team just found a lead. As soon as they wrap up, I’ll send them your way. Draw back if you need to,” Oracle reported.

Okay, Sam might feel a little guilty.

Jazz put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s a mistake I would have made too.”

Fright Knight meanwhile let his helmet flare with purple and green flames. “Finally. Proper combat,” he relished, pulling Soul Shredder out of his chest.

“Brace yourselves,” Red Robin muttered as he and Nightwing took defensive positions in the front of their group.

Sam pulled out her wrist rays and steeled herself, falling back into old habits from her teenager years in Amity Park. The door across the lab burst open and the GIW was upon them.

Duke tugged nervously at the shadows in the warehouse district that they were currently creeping through. It had been some time since the rest of the family had been active during the day like this. And even though he felt safer with his family members by his side, Scarecrow was a rogue that made them all nervous. It didn’t help they were relying on a ghost to find one of Gotham’s more elusive rogues. Under Phantom’s command, the ghost, Fear Eater, was tracking fear through Gotham to find the disgraced psychiatrist who surrounded himself in other people’s fear like glutton for other people’s suffering. Suffice to say, there had been multiple false alarms at this point.

Fear Eater – as a concept – seemed benevolent enough. But the ghost was terrifying. Duke could feel the way light and shadow bent to the ghost’s whims, even though the ghost seemed untrained in umbrakinesis. Duke was a little nervous even with his training he wouldn’t outmatch a ghost with a shadow core if it ever came to a fight with them.

Fear Eater flew overhead, occasionally pausing and turning a new direction on the trail of something the rest of them couldn’t sense. Red Hood traversed the roofs basically at Duke’s side, while Black Bat did her usual ducking in and out of shadows, dancing across roofs with the same silent grace she displayed when dancing.

“Does this birdbrain know what they’re doing or are we just going in circles in the East End for no reason? It’s not like this neighborhood is lacking in fear,” Jason remarked.

They’d gotten the tip about searching in the East End – one of Gotham’s poorer neighborhoods, but not as bad as Crime Alley and Bowery – from Harley Quinn, who’d heard from Penguin that Crane’s goons were spending a lot of time in this neck of the city. Honestly, not the most convoluted way that the Bats had gained intelligence through the rogue network before. But it was best to verify the rumor mill, which was why Fear Eater was tagging along with their team. After all, who better to find out the rogue obsessed with fear than a ghost who literally ate fear for breakfast?

“They’re not flying about aimlessly,” Signal pointed out.

“Like a hound,” Cass pointed out softly.

Red Hood scoffed. “Doesn’t mean they’re tracking the right thing. Fear in this city is everywhere. And we already crashed someone’s apartment in the middle of a horror movie.”

“Also stopped wife being beaten by husband,” Black Bat reminded.

Red Hood grunted, acquiescing to Black Bat’s point.

Fear Eater swooped low and chirped threateningly at Jason before swooping off again.

“I don’t think they like you doubting them,” Signal pointed out.

Red Hood looked about ready to say something back, but at the edge of the roof, Black Bat held up a signal to mean “quiet.”

Duke and his brother crept to the edge of the roof to see what had caught their sister’s attention. In the alley below, two goons – obviously working for Scarecrow with their goggles and gasmasks to prevent being fear-gassed – stood in the shadows chatting quietly while they had a smoke break.

One of the goon’s hands was shaking as he put the cigarette to his lips. “All I’m saying is it’s fucked up. I didn’t sign up to work with government pigs and their creepy mutant shit.”

The other goon scoffed. “It’s Scarecrow, Mikey. You knew what you were getting into freaky shit the moment you signed up.”

“Yeah, Gotham shit. Not some fuckin fed’s ghost department makin’ freaks of nature. I’m never gonna get rid of the nightmares, man.”

Duke lifted up his hands to sign at his siblings, “Are we following?”

A few blocks away Fear Eater let out a sharp cry like the screech of a ghostly falcon wailing in the still Gotham night.

The goons below shuddered.

Black Bat signed back, “Red Hood and Signal follow them. I will find ghost-friend.”

Duke and Red Hood nodded in agreement. Duke blanketed them in shadows and deflected the light around them to keep them invisible while they waited for the goons to move on.

Spoiler grappled through the city, fuming a bit at Tim’s plan. Particularly Steph’s role in his grand plan to take down the GIW in Gotham. Because while her pseudo-family was out busting GIW heads, she was currently enroute to deal with Gotham’s most beloved and ruthless reporter: Vicki Vale. Why was she on reporter wrangling duty? Nightwing would have been a far better choice. There was a good chance Spoiler might just knock out the reporter and carry her where she needed to go.

“Okay, what has got you seething?” Phantom asked, flying by her side.

Oh, that was right, she was also on Phantom bodyguard duty. Absolutely useless in Steph’s opinion considering the guy was supposed to be the strongest ghost in existence according to the crown floating above his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steph said.

“Nah, you’re definitely unhappy. Even if I wasn’t a ghost I could tell that. Tim warned me you’d be grilling me like a steak with the two of us alone, and I am feeling a distinct lack of heat.”

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’m a professional.”

“You think you should be doing something else,” Danny guessed.

“Stop pushing, Phantom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything if you didn’t want to be paired with me?”

“that’s not it,” Steph growled.

“Then…”

“Fine!” Steph exploded. “I think RR was stupid to put me on Vicki Vale duty while the rest of my family is out there taking down Scarecrow, the GIW, and whatever rabid ghosts they’re going to throw at them. Meanwhile Justice League is on a PR mission all the way over in Illinois, so we don’t even have backup! And I’m stuck with you, a powerful ghost who doesn’t even need my protection.”

Phantom – the menace – grinned. “Now doesn’t that feel better now that you’ve let it out?”

Steph scowled. “You’re an asshole.”

Phantom shrugged, spinning to fly on his back beside Steph. “Ghosts are basically sentient balls of emotions. We know it’s better to let feelings out than keep them trapped inside to fester.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel better. My family is still out there facing dangerous criminals while I’m with you.”

Phantom sobered. “Don’t worry, I have no doubt you’ll see plenty of action shortly now that I’m no longer subduing my aura. Chances are, the GIW are already on our trail.”

Good, Spoiler thought, because more GIW chasing after them meant less for her family to deal with on their own missions.

Spoiler and Phantom landed on the roof where Vicki Vale had her penthouse. It took little effort for Spoiler to scale down to Vicki Vale’s living room window and scan inside the apartment for the reporter who should be home, or close to it. Sure enough, Vicki Vale was standing at her island kitchen counter, glass of wine already in hand, and staring at the two vigilantes outside her window with a judgmental eyebrow.

Phantom waved. The eyebrow rose higher.

Spoiler gestured to the latch for the reporter to open it. Vicki Vale smirked and sauntered over to the window, taking her sweet time. Ugh, Steph hated dealing with this woman, even if she could respect her ruthlessness.

As Vicki Vale unlatched the window and began to struggle with the pane that had probably never been opened before, Steph helped put her own strength into opening it. Phantom just floated through the wall at the clear invitation inside. Didn’t even bother to ask Spoiler if she might want an intangible lift through the wall.

Vicki Vale – although likely surprised – maintained her composure at Phantom’s easy power display. Just scanned over the ghost king before turning to Spoiler. “Have you just gift-wrapped me an exclusive into whatever the fuck was going on in Oldtown this afternoon? And it’s not even my birthday,” Vicki Vale remarked drily, although her eyes held the gleam of a story.

Spoiler returned Vicki Vale’s inquiry with a signature Robin smirk. “I can do you better than that. I can put you in front of Metropolis News’ latest breaking story on ghosts: an exclusive interview with the King of Ghosts.”

“Him?” Vicki Vale asked doubtfully, eyes scanning over Danny who was currently poking one of the succulents on the window and then putting the finger in his mouth when it was pricked and a bead of green ectoplasm formed on his fingertip.

Steph sighed. “Phantom, stop screwing around.”

Phantom turned with a smirk, eyes flashing green. “Forgive my manners. I’m Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, and King of the Ghosts.” He stuck out his other hand that hadn’t been poking cacti.

Vicki Vale eyed the ghost over, before taking Phantom’s hand in for a firm shake. “Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette.” And then she didn’t let go. Phantom probably could have phased through the grip no problem, but he looked more bemused than anything.

“Your hands are cold.” Fingers went to his wrist. “No pulse.”

“Symptoms of being dead,” Phantom stated.

Vicki Vale looked up to the crown on Phantom’s head, frozen fire floating above his head, with green ribbons of light like a mini aurora borealis dancing above it.

“Alright. If nothing else I believe that you’re a ghost. Now why are you here?”

This time Steph spoke, “I assume you’ve been keeping up to date with the Metro News articles?”

Vicki Vale scoffed. “Of course. I’m not an amateur. I don’t suppose you have an explanation as to why this story landed in Lane’s lap when all the action seems to be happening here?”

Steph ignored the question. “The Ghost Investigation Ward has been causing more problems than just ghosts. How would you like to break the news about kidnapping and experimentation by the GIW ward on Gotham citizens?”

Vicki Vale as usual, betrayed little of how she was feeling outwardly. But her hands twitched ever so slightly and Steph knew it was an instinctual tick to reach for a pen or her phone. Hook, Line, and Sinker. “I’m listening.”

“Ground rules first. No asking me about my death or obsession. It will set me off. Second, I have the right to refuse answering your questions. A lot of information about ghosts is frankly none of the business of earth, and mortal minds aren’t meant to understand them anyway.”

Vicki Vale pursed her lips. “Fine.”

Steph clapped her hands. “Before you start grilling the King of the Infinite Realms, I should also give you a heads up that the GIW is going to launch an attack in the Warehouse District. Just in case you want to give your camera crews a heads up”

“And how do you know that?” Vale demanded. Her phone was already out and dialing.

“Simple. I’m going to be the bait that draws them out,” Phantom answered with a grin.

Chapter Text

Cass found Fear Eater easily. Partly because the ghost was looking for them already. With a quick swoop, they gestured for Black Bat to follow them. The ghost had found something.

Black Bat pried open a vent and slid into a ventilation shaft, Fear Eater snaking through the walls ahead of her. Fear Eater had already led them wrong before, but Batman had always taught her to be thorough, so she would follow the ghost until the trail’s end before reuniting with her brothers.

Fear Eater led her down into what must be the basement of the building. And when she heard voices through the vents, she knew that this time Fear Eater hadn’t been on a false trail. They had found Scarecrow. Cass could hear him yelling at someone through the vents.

Cass nodded with gratitude at the ghost and peeked through the vent to watch what was happening below. Jonathan Crane paced, his entire body screaming frustration and anxiousness.

“Are you kidding me?! It’s like you want the Bats to dismantle this entire operation! The Lyssa serum isn’t complete yet!” Scarecrow shouted at two white-suited agents. The agents were still, but their tension indicated they were also anxious about something.

“Commander Alpha has given us our orders. The specimens need to be prepped for a strike today,” one agent countered.

Crane threw up his hands near her face, and the agent flinched minutely, finger twitching where her hand lingered on her weapon.

“Impossible! I can’t work in these conditions! This whole thing has been a rush job ever since your organization decided to go on the offensive against Batman and his brood. Idiots! Morons of the highest degree! The subjects are not ready!”

The second agent twitched with irritation. “The experiments performed well in tests. That’s good enough.”

“Test! Singular! One batch of successful experiments does not equal success. And I have no idea if the serum only has short-term viability yet. There’s too many variables still unaccounted for!”

“Then give us an estimate.”

“I don’t know enough about these entities to even guess!”

The first agent pulled out a device from her jacket as it beeped softly. She bristled and grimaced from whatever she saw on the screen.

“There’s an ecto-entity nearby.”

The other agent drew his weapon in a flash, on guard and braced to shoot. “Where?” Cass looked to Fear Eater who had joined her by the vent cover to watch. Their eyes flashed briefly, body tensed, but it didn’t appear to be from fear. No, this was hunger. Probably not a coincidence from the way the agents’ bodies were strained with repressed fear.

Cass shook her head at the ghost, but they didn’t seem to pay attention. She doubted the ghost would listen to her either. She shouldn’t engage. Scarecrow was not a rogue to be underestimated. Certainly not a rogue for anyone to take on alone unless under dire circumstances. Then again, Black Bat wasn’t really alone. She had a ghost.

Black Bat gestured for Fear Eater to stay put. “I distract,” she told the ghost.

The ghost blinked in understanding.

Black Bat carefully opened the vent. As usual, she was practically soundless, the chatter of the agents below covering up her movements with ease. Scarecrow looked a little more wary, eyes flicking around the shadows of the room and by the stairway nervously.

“No ecto entities have come near this facility since we began our research,” Crane pointed out. His hand went to his hip for one of his serums. Black Bat made note of the increased danger. He was cautious now. It would not be long before Cass lost the element of surprise entirely.

She clicked morse shorthand the Bats had developed on her comm: BB SCW ENG. Immediate protests erupted from Oracle telling her to hold and Batman telling her to disengage. Signal and Red Hood sent transmissions that they were on their way and to wait until they got there.

Cass ignored them all. She lobbed a smoke bomb into the room and fell into the cover as Scarecrow and the agents began shouting.

Black Bat was used to fighting in reduced visibility. She and the rest of her family trained extensively blind folded. The GIW agents definitely did not have the same training. They fired their weapon blindly through the smoke, and Cass had to keep low to avoid their shots.

Scarecrow cried out in pain across the room. “You idiots! You just shot me!”

Cass struck the knees of an agent and swiftly knocked them out as they fell with blow to the back of the head. She heard the other agent screaming about locating the ecto-entity while Scarecrow let out a shout of “Contain it!”

Prioritizing her teammate’s safety, Black Bat went after the other agent next. Again, she went for the legs, keeping low to avoid the ectoplasm blasts from the GIW weapon. Cass kicked at the knees to bring the agent down. Just in time as an open thermos was knocked out of the agent’s hand. Fear Eater screeched overhead, swooping low to consume the agent’s fear.

Not good.

Now lacking in fear, the agent had clarity of mind to attack Black Bat. She had to dodge the agent. Then dodge a swing of Scarecrow’s scythe, the Gotham rogue much more adept at combat in low visibility conditions from years facing off against the Bats. If Black Bat was fighting alongside her family, she’d whistle for a distraction to take care of Scarecrow while she finished up with the other agent.

Cass whistled anyway. She hoped Fear Eater understood as she jumped at the GIW agent. It took little effort to take him down. But it gave Scarecrow an opening that the rogue was definitely skilled enough to take advantage of.

Luck was smiling down on Black Bat, because Fear Eater was flying around Scarecrow, obstructing his vision while they feasted on Crane’s fear.

At some point, Scarecrow’s panic subsided enough that he was able to realize what the ghost was doing.

“You are taking away my fear? Fascinating,” the rogue remarked.

“No taking friends,” Cass said, just as she kicked Scarecrow’s side.

Scarecrow dodged so Black Bat’s kick was only a glancing blow.  Scarecrow grinned, cruel and wicked. Usually the rogue’s expression was hidden by an eerie mask. Cass didn’t know why he bothered, Jonathan Crane was scary enough on his own. Then again, it was likely more utility so the rogue would not be affected by his own gas. doubtful the rogue wanted to be affected by his own creations.

Fear Eater swooped over Cass, taking her nugget of fear.

 “I knew you Bats would show up eventually.”

“Enough. Go to Arkham,” Black Bat commanded.

“Afraid not, little Bat. And you’ll be far too busy to ensure I make it there.”

Black Bat attacked to hopefully stop Scarecrow from enacting his plan. But the rogue was nimbler than one expected, as usual. There was a reason Scarecrow was one of Batman’s more formidable enemies. He dodged again, this time slipping into close quarters so he could plunge a needle into Black Bat’s side. Most of her Kevlar would be too tough to properly pierce her skin, but Scarecrow had angled for one of Cass’ more vulnerable areas with thinner fabric for more maneuverability.

Black Bat flipped away, but the damage was already done. She slipped a fear gas antidote from one of her pockets, hoping Scarecrow hadn’t changed the formula anytime recently. Already her pulse was accelerating, breath quickening from the effects. Not long until hallucinations set in.

Fear Eater clucked angrily as they flew around Black Bat. And then Cass wasn’t sure if it were the ghost or the antidote slowing her heart rate and putting her more at ease.

In the meantime, Scarecrow used the opportunity to grab a thermos on the other side of the room. Black Bat maneuvered herself in front of Fear Eater. But when the rogue unscrewed the cap, it wasn’t to trap; instead he let something out.

Black Bat faltered. Out of the thermos, a ghost looking very human-like coalesced in a butler’s coat and tails. He was easily recognizable despite the eyes overtaken in glowing green as sickly as Jason’s irises in the throes of Pit Rage, and sharp fangs and claws bared in attack like a feral vampire. His skin was ashen, and his entire demeanor screamed “dangerous,” like a cornered alley cat, no hint of recognition in his eyes. Only madness.

“Alfred,” Cass murmured, shocked beyond words. Her chest ached at the sight of her grandfather turned into a facsimile of his true self.

“You know this ghost?” Scarecrow asked, bemused.

“Fix him. Now,” Black Bat ordered, about to stalk towards the rogue.

But Alfred intercepted her, tracking her without recognition in his posture.

“Wouldn’t even if I could, little Bat. Specimen 5-12-97, attack,” Scarecrow ordered.

And it took all of Cass’ dexterity to dodge as Alfred flew towards her like a bullet. Even then, only Fear Eater intercepting the other ghost saved Cass from the sharp claws Alfred now sported.

Black Bat rolled into a corner, searching for Scarecrow, but the rogue had already escaped. The heart hammering in her chest didn’t feel like it was still fear gassed, but it was terrified all the same.

Billy Batson rarely felt the full weight of what it meant to be Champion of Magic. Most of the time he considered himself Fawcett City’s protector, a member of the Justice League, and overall an average hero. However, standing in the clearing while John Constantine burned a rune circle into the grass under his guidance, and the other Justice League Dark members and eyelets inspected the tangled magic around Amity Park’s core, he almost staggered with the weight of the power he was about to hold. To control several different kinds of magic, many of them malignant, and keep them from attacking each other and everyone in the vicinity felt about as safe as taking a row boat through a hurricane.

“Circle’s done,” Constantine grumbled, inspecting his work. “You sure about this, Cap? Ghostlings may be different from living tykes, but Sk-eye is still only four years old.”

“Hey! I know what I’m talking about!” the eyelet in question protested.

No, Billy wasn’t certain at all. “There’s no one else, John.

“We’ve untangled the worst of it. Enough for us to transfer the power stably,” Zatanna reported.

“Ish,” Raven tacked on, which didn’t make Billy feel any better.

Billy took a shaky breath. Even the courage of Achilles faltered at the prospect, which was a good sign they were about to do something ill-advised, even without Solomon muttering in his head about achieving new levels of foolishness. “How is the core?” He asked.

“Still weak. We need to do this soon. They’re fading,” Sk-eye reported. “I think the strain of the magics being dismantled earlier was too much for them.”

“Alright, time for eyelets need to pop off. Take Cyborg with you,” Constantine ordered.

“No way! What if the ghostling needs us?” Eye-ris argued.

“Nuh-uh. If this ends up not working I’m not having you caught in the crosshairs. Phantom will turn my soul into a throw-rug. Deadman can look after the core.”

The eyelets protested some more, but Constantine was obstinate. And even Cyborg relented too, acknowledging he wouldn’t be much use against a magic backlash.

Only, when the eyelets and Cyborg were safely portaled back to Gotham, Constantine turned to Captain Marvel. “Ready?”

Captain Marvel nodded, even though, no, he would never be ready.

Zatanna and Constantine began chanting and weaving the power transference. Raven stood on standby to contain any rogue magic from escaping. And Deadman hovered as close to the core as he could get, monitoring their state in case the transference ended up hurting them further.

A hurricane was an apt metaphor for the sheer storm of chaotic, inharmonious magic that pushed itself onto Captain Marvel. He stumbled from the onslaught, the weight of the magic stressing every muscle in his body like a physical weight. It all felt a bit like radioactive metal weasels scurrying over his skin and snipping at one another. Chinese Ku tried to tear apart a Voodun curse. The magical manifestation of a Mexican evil eye attacked runes of Norse magic. It was overwhelming: the languages of a hundred different magics clamoring for attention and dominance. Even the invulnerable Captain Marvel felt nauseous from the chaos.

Distantly, Billy heard his teammates calling for him, but they were impossible to hear over all the magics roaring through and around him. Instead, he focused on isolating the different magics instead.

Slowly but surely, Billy picked at the magic. He pushed away the Voodun curse from the Chinese Ku, and then immediately switched attentions to a sneaky bit of Hebrew plague magic leeching from the power of some other defenses. The last thing they needed was a repeat of the Plagues of Egypt across the continental US and Canada.

And so, Billy continued, picking apart fights and settling down dark magics that sought to cannibalize more power. Spells about to go nuclear were swiftly dealt with. And if able to, Marvel unraveled them entirely. Never before had Billy felt the stamina of Atlas so keenly as if felt like he truly was taking on the weight of the world while simultaneously unraveling it. The power of Zeus held to tight to every magic Captain Marvel subdued, the speed of Mercury ensured Billy had the speed to deal with several nearly catastrophic magic interactions swiftly. The wisdom of Solomon provided all the knowledge he could of the ways to trick and end complicated curses. Hercules lent Billy the magical strength he required, and Achilles whispered courage for Billy to take heart even while it felt like the magic would tear him apart. And slowly, the sheer power of the GIW’s amalgamation of magics began to ebb.

Captain Marvel became aware of other more benevolent magics on the fringes of his magical senses. The familiar illusion-based spells of Zatanna, the hell-flavored tricks of John Constantine, and the dark, emotion-based magic of Raven surging at the fringes as they did what they could to take down the malignant magic too.

Eventually, enough of the magical defenses had either been placed back into dormant status or unraveled entirely to allow Billy to perceive the living world around him again. He opened his eyes to see the clearing nearly black from the surge of dark magic that had escaped during the transference. Thankfully, it appeared his teammates were unharmed, but they all wore fatigue heavily.

“Are you with us, champion?” Raven asked, her shadowy magic tearing apart a Fae curse. Billy didn’t even want to know where the GIW had gotten their hands on one of those.

“Yeah,” Captain Marvel croaked, a bit like Billy’s voice when he spent a little too long on Fawcett City’s streets in winter when he was younger. He ended a Greek curse with a hand gesture. At least that type of magic was more in Captain Marvel’s wheelhouse.

It felt like hours that all four magic users combatted the magical defenses into something resembling stability.

Panting, John Constantine said, “I think that’s enough. With what’s left, we should be able to take out the rest of the magic in one fell swoop. Techies, what’s the status on the computer shite?”

Dead Pharoh’s voice crackled over the comms, with even more interference than before. “All set. Barring any more surprises, one final virus to send through the system and purge it completely. And Cyborg is standing by to combat any final defenses we may have missed.”

“Good. We should also be able to take out the final magical defenses with a burst of raw power. Captain?” Raven asked.

Captain Marvel lay on the now dead grass, letting his passive magic corral the GIW defenses left. “Give me a minute. I feel like I just fought the legions of Darkseid singlehandedly.”

Zatanna inspected the ghost core a final time, and was satisfied by what she found. With careful hands, she dismantled the green net holding it in place, and picked up the orb to bring it away from the blood-blossom circle.

Deadman immediately latched onto the core, and began to hum and coo at it, ghostly babbles that sounded like Sanskrit rolling off his tongue.

“I’m sending out the alert system now to warn the citizens. I can’t believe Amity Park might finally be free again,” Truther murmured over the comms.

“Phantom incoming to check on the Amity Park core,” Eye-saac reported.

“Bollocks! He can’t risk setting something off! We haven’t disabled everything yet!” Constantine protested.

“Chill, Johnny,” Phantom said, flying into the clearing. “What does our Champion of Magic say?”

Billy groaned. “Just don’t touch anything other the core. That includes the ground. I don’t want your majesty setting something off.”

Phantom shrugged. “We have time if my presence alerted them. Most of the GIW will still be in Gotham. And it will take them some time to mobilize their forces and get them here from Elmerton. We’re almost ready to enact phase 2 of the Amity Park mission anyway.”

“That’s not what we’re worried about. There’s a lot of nasty magic here that still has the potential to destroy at least Amity Park, and all of us with it,” Raven cautioned.

“I’ll be careful,” Phantom promised. He drifted over to Deadman. The small green orb in Deadman’s hands, flickered with fatigue. Phantom whined at the young core’s distress.

“Is that Amity Park’s spirit?” he asked.

Deadman nodded. “Yeah. Here, your majesty, I bet you want to hold them.”

Phantom took the orb in gentle hands, his core cooing softly. Billy heard the barest hum or response from the core. Whispers of distress that had Phantom growling in anger.

Billy felt another wave of anger wash through him at the distressed sounds from the ghosts. How dare the GIW do this? To a ghostling no less. Amity Park’s spirit was younger than even Danny’s Phantom form. The GIW had essentially tried to cannibalize a child to run their security against their own Haunt. Captain Marvel was exhausted, but his rage at the evil government organization still flowed through him like an energy shot.

Meanwhile, Phantom pooled some of his ectoplasm into his hand so it surrounded the core, feeding the starving ghostling. “I want to take them away from the battle, but city spirits are tricky. I could place the core in the heart of the Infinite Realms, and it still wouldn’t be as effective at revitalizing them as keeping them in their haunt, close to their obsession.”

“Keep them with us,” Zatanna suggested. “We won’t be able to help with the main battle anyway once we purge the final defenses, but we can guard the ghostling.”

Phantom’s face softened in both relief and gratitude. “Thank you.” He proceeded to encase both the core and the ectoplasm they were bathing in with ghostly ice so it was now a sphere the size of a bowling ball.

Deadman took back the core now within a protective casing. “It is an honor, my king.”

Captain Marvel stood with the new wave of strength from his anger. “Let’s take down these assholes.”

Phantom’s mouth quirked, a fang flashing. “Thank you, Captain. For everything.”

“No sweat, Phantom. Get back to your station before your boyfriend yells at you.”

Phantom laughed, sounding like snow crunching underfoot. “Relax. I just separated into a third form. I still have duplicates at the Amity Park and Gotham locations.”

“And he’ll be pissed you’re stretching yourself thinner. Stay on task, Phantom,” Dead Pharaoh chastised.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” Danny darted one lost grief-stricken look at the core, before flying off back into the city proper.

Deadman cradled the core, while the other members of Justice League’s Dark division took the time to rest and recuperate before Phantom’s signal to end the GIW’s magical defenses for good. Billy began to feel the living lightning under Captain Marvel’s skin pulsing as the energy renewed.

The underground tunnels of Gotham were chaos as Nightwing and Red Robin’s team fought GIW agents in the dark and winding corridors they’d appropriated. Up ahead, Fright Knight cackled as he wielded a glowing sword. As soon as the blade so much as touched GIW, they fell to the ground screaming in fright before falling unconscious. Well, Nightwing hoped they were only unconscious. He didn’t check any pulses, plausible deniability if their mission ended up with nearly a dozen GIW agents dead.

Sam and Nightwing were covering Red Robin and Jasmine Fenton while the duo downloaded all the evidence they could of the GIW’s crimes. Everything on Project Lyssa was flagged for immediate extraction and attention. They also searched for the locations of the various prisoners – recorded as “specimens” – the GIW were keeping. Unfortunately, more specimens than anyone would like seemed to also coincide with Project Lyssa.

“Rough estimates have nearly thirty ghosts successfully dosed with Crane’s Lyssa Serum,” Red Robin reported in.

“I’ll let the other teams know what to expect. Keep the information coming,” Oracle replied.

“Are you two almost done?” Sam demanded as a GIW agent got a little too close and she had to punch them in the throat rather than use the wrist ray in close quarters.

Fright Knight’s laughter was abruptly cut off as a plucky GIW agent managed to distract Fright Knight with some kind of ectoplasm-dissolving substance, that bubbled and frothed at Fright Knight’s armor where the ghost had been hit in the shoulder.

“We’re going as fast as we can!” Jazz replied.

Fright Knight roared, launching his sword across the room so it buried itself hilt-deep in the agent’s chest. There was no blood, only the screams of the agent as they too dropped to the floor. In the meantime, another agent was opening a Fenton-style thermos to trap the ghost. Only Nightwing’s quick fingers flinging a batarang into the agent’s arm stopped them.

“I’ll focus on sabotaging their systems. Keep at the data collection,” Red Robin told Jazz. “If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to knock out the whole Gotham GIW network.”

“Wrap it up team, Black Bat has decided to engage Scarecrow solo.”

Nightwing and Red Robin exchanged fearful glances. Black Bat was the best of them, but Scarecrow was formidable. While Black Bat would undoubtedly win a simple brawl with the man, Scarecrow was wily. He always had another trick up his sleeve, and it was usually fear gas.

“What happened to the rest of her team?” Nightwing demanded. There’d be hell to pay if Duke and Jason had somehow been taken out.

“They separated following different leads,” Oracle answered.

Red Robin cursed at the panel. “And she still engaged Scarecrow alone? What happened to basic protocol? Our mission isn’t complete! We have to find the prisoners!”

“You can give everyone an earful in the de-brief. Continue as planned for now. I’m sending Signal and Red Hood in. But your team is next closest, so be ready to be backup.”

“Roger, Oracle,” Nightwing replied. He ducked the blast of a GIW ray. And then used the momentum to kick the agent’s kneecaps.

“Virus set. And the charges will start the countdown when it hits,” Red Robin reported. “How’s the intelligence gathering?”

“I think I have everything,” Jazz replied. She spun around and swung a kneecap-shattering blow at the closest GIW agent with her baseball bat. Harley Quinn would definitely approve of her technique.

“Good, because I think we’ve outstayed our welcome,” Nightwing quipped. “Time to go.”

“Launching virus,” Red Robin remarked. He fiddled with his wrist computer. “Containment areas are to the east in the Warehouse District. Huh, maybe we’ll be able to give Black Bat that backup after all.”

Fright Knight pulled his sword from one of the fallen GIW agents. Sam and Dick made quick work of the last two agents standing. “Excellent. And when our task is complete, I will join my King in battle!” The ghost proclaimed.

“Should we tie them up or something?” Sam asked, gesturing to the GIW agents Dick knew for a fact were still alive.

“No time,” Red Robin replied. “I want to free as many ghosts as we can before the real battle starts.”

And make sure Black Bat is safe, Dick tacked on silently. He knew Tim felt the same way.

And then Black Bat’s voice panted over the comms, tone tight with grief, “Agent A compromised.” And Dick felt like the world was freezing around them as he exchanged a horrified look with his brother.  

Red Hood and Signal were racing through Gotham streets to where Cass’ tracker pinged. They had both stuttered to a stop briefly at Cass’ announcement that Alfred was compromised. Jason’s mind whirled with confusion. Compromised how? Did that mean the GIW bastards had used him for Operation Lyssa? Or was it some other type of ghostly madness that had affected their ghostly grandfather? Or was it more mundane like Alfred had compromised the Bats’ identities? But Cass wouldn’t have sounded so choked up unless Alfred was in truly dire straits.

“Hey, man, it will be okay. We’re close. We’ll save them both,” Duke said next to Red Hood.

“You don’t get it. You were still on good terms with Alfred when he was captured. I…”

Signal scowled. “Hey. Just because I’m not nursing a guilt complex a mile wide, doesn’t mean I’m not just as pissed off and heartbroken that Alfred was taken. Stop brooding like B and focus on the mission.”

Somehow, that broke through Jason’s overwhelming emotions to bring him up to his more normal mood of “pissed off at B.” “Hey, don’t compare me to the old man.”

“Don’t act like him then,” Signal fired back.

“There was a day I would have shot you for a remark like that.”

Apparently Red Hood really was growing soft because Duke just rolled his eyes. Well, probably. Jason couldn’t actually see Duke’s eyes with his helmet. But Duke’s entire demeanor screamed sarcastic teenage vigilante. It was a foregone conclusion.

Jason was spared a sassy remark on top of it because up ahead, a figure moving through the shadows of the alleyway caught Signal’s attention.

Red Hood would recognize that lithe and creepy form anywhere: Scarecrow. He pulled out both guns, clicking the safety off. He signaled to Duke, who accepted the flanking strategy with a nod. Duke slipped into invisibility to circle around to the rogue’s other side.

Jason relaxed into his Red Hood persona, using every inch of bulk and height the Pits had given him to appear as menacing as possible.

“Not exactly a nice night for a stroll,” Red Hood called out, voice coming out extra eerie through the voice modulator in his helmet. “Heard there’s a bunch of out-of-town zealots lurking around these parts.”

Scarecrow stiffened and turned. Jason was surprised to see a complete lack of mask over the man’s face. On the plus side, that made fear gas unlikely. Both Jason and Duke would have to extra careful about hidden needles with liquidized fear toxin though.

“Wandering away from your territory tonight, Red Hood? I wonder who’s watching Crime Alley then?” Crane pondered aloud.

Red Hood revealed nothing outwardly. He took a moment to remind himself that his people were watching over the Alley tonight. And with Tim’s plan, soon everyone would be looking to the Warehouse District anyway once Phantom revealed himself. Chances were, Scarecrow was trying to rile him up with a bluff anyway.

“Give it up, Crane. You’re caught, and your new terrorist friends aren’t too far behind.”

Scarecrow chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong. With all the chaos those idiots are about to wreak, I don’t think you Bats will give a single thought to little, old me. Your compatriot has already fallen to our little joint endeavor.”

Red Hood cocked a gun and pointed it at the rogue. “What did you do with Black Bat?”

“You could say she’s a bit haunted at the moment. By a rather spirited opponent.”

Alfred, Jason realized, and the green Pit Rage surged through him. Scarecrow had done this. Scarecrow had worked with the white-suited fanatics who had infected Gotham like a disease and now they had hurt Alfred. The one person in his family who hadn’t thrown himself into the vigilante life. He had taken Jason’s grandfather and twisted him into something else. Just like the Pits had twisted Jason, keeping him from his family for far too long.

His finger began to depress the trigger until Signal shouted from behind, “Don’t do it, Hood!” Damn kid had used his future vision.

“You heard what he admitted to! You know what he’s done! He’s almost as twisted as the damn clown. Gotham would celebrate if I put a bullet through his skull,” Jason growled.

Scarecrow almost used the conversation to slip away, but Signal had thrown his voice when he called out to Red Hood. Scarecrow wasn’t expecting Signal to kick him at the base of his spine, and send him sprawling.

As Signal tried to wrestle the rogue onto his stomach and secure his hands, he managed say, “You’re right, he’s the worst. But he’s also our best bet to fix whatever has been done to the ghosts. I doubt the GIW will be as accommodating.”

Jason surged with anger, but he still felt the mental fortitude to click the safety back on his guns and put one of them away so he could take some zipties from his pocket.

Scarecrow was hissing with anger, his arm almost got free to stab Signal with a hidden needle. Thankfully, the kid’s powers kicked in so he could dodge and re-restrain the rogue.  “You’ll see! This is only the beginning! The GIW are making their move and Gotham will have the fright of all frights! For what is more primal than fear of death?!”

“Not going to lecture me on nearly killing him?” Jason asked, ignoring Scareow except to kick him in the head to knock him out.

Signal shrugged. “History dictates that only makes you more stubborn. I was hoping manipulating your protective instinct and reason would be more effective.”

“Ugh. This family is the worst.” Jason helped Signal tie together the rogue’s limbs.

Signal sobered. “Protocol says we have to stay with the detained until backup arrives to properly restrain him.”

“Fuck protocol! Black Bat and Agent A are in danger!” Red Hood protested.

Signal looked up and the line of his mouth was tense. “Go, Hood. I’ll stay and make sure nothing happens.”

“No way, kid. I’m not leaving you alone with this guy even if he is unconscious. Scarecrow is slippery.”

Signal pulled at Scarecrow’s sleeve, and tore out some stitches to reveal a small vial and injector. “If he wakes up and starts causing problems, I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. Hood, go! Please.”

Jason hesitated. How could he not? This was one of his little brothers. Except Duke was hardly in any danger at the moment. But Cass and Alfred very much were.

Oracle’s voice finally prompted Jason to move. “Signal is right. I have eyes on him. If Scarecrow or anyone else tries something, I’ll have Eye-ris bring backup.”

Red Hood growled as he raced around the corner to Black Bat’s location. “Where was the eyelet when we first heard Black Bat in danger?”

“She was helping the JL Dark with their mission. They had a bit of a hiccup, but she’s back now.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Goddamn GIW making everything harder. “Can she get me to BB now?”

“Black Bat’s tracker is in the building ahead. Basement level. I guarantee you’ll get there quicker than she will. And far more stealthily. I’m sending her and Wulf to Red Robin’s team anyway to help them start freeing prisoners.”

Jason ended up not needing any portal help because he found a vent cover leaning against the wall, and small footprints in the dust underneath the exposed vent. “I think I found how Black Bat got in,” he reported in, staring at the small hole. “No way I’m getting in the same way. Going to circle around and find a door.”

Jason crept around the building. The back door in an alleyway was unlocked and open, likely from Scarecrow fleeing the scene. Jason drew a gun as he slipped inside. The building was silent except for the occasional discharge of what sounded like a ghostly weapon. He tensed at the sound and followed it down the basement stairs.

It took all of Jason’s bat training not to flinch when Black Bat crossed his vision, flung into the base of the steps. Most people couldn’t even tough Cass, let alone throw her across a room. Unlikely she was fighting any mere mortal. Screw needing a gun. Jason pulled out one of the wrist rays he’d been given to combat rabid ghosts.

Sure enough, a green glow entered Red Hood’s line of sight, and then, a ghost. A very familiar ghost. Well, apart from the glowing red eyes, gaunt face, and fangs and claws.

Red Hood raised the wrist ray at the ghost, and growled in the most authoritative voice he could muster, “Alfred, stand down now. This isn’t you.”

But there wasn’t even recognition in the butler’s eyes. Alfred’s attention flickered up to Jason with a growl. And then, before Jason could process it, he launched at Jason, green energy condensing in his hands for an attack.

Jason ducked and positioned his wrist ray to strike the ghost as he flew overhead. Except some of Alfred’s intelligence must have remained, for he swerved the blast to double back and slam into Red Hood, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Thankfully, Black Bat had moved herself back to her feet and braced herself into a corner to reassess the situation with Red Hood’s distraction.

She grabbed a thermos from her belt and gestured for Jason to move Alfred in position. The problem with their usual communication being that somehow underneath whatever was currently infecting Alfred’s core, the butler still knew all the tricks and secrets of Bat-speak.

Alfred whirled, his new target being Black Bat, recognizing her as the bigger threat with the thermos.

“This isn’t working!” Jason protested as he ran to help his sister. “He knows all our moves already!”

Jason backed up to the wall, and nearly startled at the weak whine next to him. Only two dim golden eyes revealed anything was there. Fear Eater – the ghost Phantom himself had strengthened – was weak and shadowy, barely on the visible spectrum anymore. And clearly down for the count.

Horrified, Jason almost missed it when Alfred’s increased speed allowed him to slash across Black Bat’s chest before she could dodge, the Kevlar ripping under the ghost’s boosted strength.

Black Bat whirled away, sprinting across the room to Jason’s side as Alfred circled back to launch another attack. Instinctively, Jason stood in front of his sister. He raised a wrist ray, firing expertly, but Alfred was quicker, as slippery as a breeze. He had long thought Alfred would be a formidable opponent, but never like this.

Alfred flew up through the basement ceiling in an effort to avoid one blast. And that’s when true dread filled Jason’s heart. Because now an attack could come from any side and neither of them would see it coming.

“We flee,” Black Bat insisted urgently.

Jason shook his head, scanning the walls and ceiling for even the briefest disturbance that might mean the ghost’s return. “It’s Alfred.”

“Better to regroup. Let other ghosts handle him. We are…not enough. Alfred would never forgive himself if…” Cass trailed off, the words choking in her throat.

Unfortunately, Jason knew Black Bat was right. Alfred knew them too well. And even under the influence of whatever concoction Crane and the GIW had made, it was clear their grandfather still remembered their fighting styles and weaknesses. It was unlikely any of them could go against Alfred and win. Not with them all holding back and a powered-up Alfred clearly not. With Alfred turned feral, the world might just be doomed.

Red Hood fled towards the stairs, and Black Bat scooped up Fear Eater. Just as they began running up the stairs, a flicker of green flashed at the edge of Jason’s vision. Alfred was chasing them.

Cass and Fear Eater seemed to have a silent conversation. Because as they retreated through the open door to the building’s main floor, Fear Eater flew shakily out of Black Bat’s arms. They hacked something up: dark and sludge-like. Jason felt goosebumps run along his skin just in the vicinity of the thing, right as Fear Eater hurled it down the stairs to hit Alfred square in the chest.

Alfred howled below, green aura flickering and then surging with new light. Clawed hands ripped at his face. He flew aimlessly and frantically around the basement.

Black Bat in the meantime had pulled out a thermos and pulled in Fear Eater fading from visibility and already intangible as they began sinking through the floor. With their ghostly ally secured, Black Bat pulled Jason by the arm and they both fled before whatever Fear Eater had done wore off. Guilt clawed in the center of Jason’s chest as he felt like he was abandoning Alfred for the second time in the past few days.

Batman and Robin crouched on a warehouse roof, the air of the Warehouse district still with only the distant sounds of waves in Gotham’s harbor nearby to break the silence. The Star city vigilantes were stationed on other warehouse roofs, finally reporting they were all in position. Black Canary also reported that Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy and Catwoman were also ready to go.

“Thanks for the invite to the party,” Catwoman purred over the comms.

“We are ready to fuck shit up, Batsy. Where are the government pigs at?” Harley Quinn added.

“They’ll be here at Phantom’s signal,” Batman replied.

Phantom materialized on Batman and Robin’s roof, and asked, “Waiting just for me?”

“Tt. Obviously,” Robin scoffed as he stood to greet the ghost king. “As Red Robin’s plan dictated.”

“Where’s Spoiler?” Oracle asked.

“I’m still with Vale. Someone’s got to keep her from getting in the middle of the chaos once it starts.”

Batman grunted to convey his praise for Spoiler.

“Words, B,” Spoiler replied back. “I can’t see your expression to figure out what meant.”

“Good job, Spoiler,” Batman growled back.

“Good job, Batsy! Positive reinforcement is important!” Harley cooed. Bruce missed the days when his kids and rogues were still afraid of him. Well, at least the rogues anyway. His kids had always been fearless menaces.

Phantom floated around Robin, poking him while the younger vigilante batted at his hands, irritated by the taunting. Bruce allowed his mouth to twitch in amusement. It was always nice to see his youngest letting himself act like a kid. Even if that kid was currently an angsty teenager.

“Phantom, everyone is in place. We’re ready,” Oracle said.

Phantom took a deep breath even though he didn’t need it. He sobered and stared out at the nearly abandoned block of warehouses knowing the quiet was about to be completely and utterly demolished. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Batman watched, heart skipping just a bit faster as he watched the ghost who looked like a teenager float to the ground, vulnerable in the large open space. Though Phantom didn’t stay a teenager long. He released whatever shield he usually held around his aura, and even those living could sense the wave of Phantom’s power wash over them as he let his true self out. The ghost began to glitch and transform, growing larger. Legs coalesced into a comet-bright tail. He grew several feet taller. His hair also grew longer, rippling as if floating underwater. His eyes opened to solid bright green, bright as headlights in the night. His garb transformed from the hazmat suit to kingly garb and his cape of stars flowed off his shoulders and nearly brushed the ground. The crown of frozen fire flared with new light, ribbons like an aurora borealis floating around it. His features changed to freckles of starlight, fangs meant for tearing flesh, and claws that could rip holes in reality. Horns of translucent blue spiraled off his head. And no longer was this a teenager vigilante from a small town in Amity Park. Before them floated the King of the Infinite Realms. His voice echoed across the city as Phantom cackled like a glacier moving. “Alright you white-suited bastards, come and get me!”

Batman shivered – his own body and training betraying him – as the words washed against him.

Phantom proceeded to dig a claw into the air and rip open a glowing green portal nearly ten feet in diameter. From it, ghostly allies spilled forth, ready for battle.

Phantom had told them during planning that he could not rally his own army to fight alongside them. Not without officially declaring war against the GIW, which meant war against the entire planet if not their entire dimension. A terrifying prospect.

However, Pandora, one of Phantom’s advisors suggested a loophole. Part of a ghost’s property included the remains of their body from their previous life. And some of the inhabitants of the Infinite Realms were originally from Gotham. As the GIW had been caught desecrating Gotham graves, they therefore had the right to defend against whatever threatened their remains. Realms ghosts were here to defend their property and their brethren who still existed on the mortal plane.

Though the creatures who poured through the portal did not look much like old Gothamites. There were some normal ones like a nineteenth century widow with void-like eyes, and what looked like an army officer of World War One, a hollow midsection bursting with poppies. But many ghosts had taken on other-worldly visages. Like the eel-type creature with skin like oil weaving large as a bus through the city streets.  Or the vaguely humanoid figure in a pinstripe suit with a flaming vulture skull for a head. A ghost who appeared a normal crow apart from the glowing green feathers, and grinned to reveal a beak full of human teeth. Gotham’s Dead were apparently just as horrifying as their city.

Phantom floated above them all, and rallied the ghosts with a speech, said in English for the benefit of Vicki Vale’s team and Truther’s livestream already rolling. Batman shivered as the king’s voice washed through the district. “For too long the Ghost Investigation Ward has plagued your city. They have taken your kin, experimented on them. They have taken your relics and remains and desecrated them. And now they have taken the heart of this city: Lady Gotham. They will End this city’s Dead for their own prejudices.”

Cries of outrage in all manner of sounds roared from the gathered dozens of ghosts, glowing brighter as if the Phantom’s very words were giving them power. “As stipulated in the laws of the Realms laid down by the Ancients, I give the Dead of Gotham leave to enact their vengeance upon the Ghost Investigation Ward.”

Cheers and cries of victory welled up out of the crowd of ghosts. And from the darkening shadows and vague impressions of shades, it seemed more than Realms ghosts were joining. The ghosts of Gotham were also joining the battle cry, even if they were too weak to be truly perceived by mortal senses.  

As the shrieks and hollers died down, Phantom continued, “Living People of Gotham, I address you now. The GIW will lobotomize your city of its magic and energy until nothing but an empty shell remains. I urge you to fight for the ghosts of this city, and the dead of your kin whose eternal rest has been threatened. Let the GIW take no more of this city. Gotham protects its own.”

Pride welled within Batman’s chest, for he had watched Jason help Phantom write that speech. He had taken a moment to lurk in the shadows while both of them had monologed to a red duck candle they’d pulled from some forgotten corner of the old Justice League headquarters. His second youngest son had always had a flare for drama.

The ghosts continued to cheer. And Batman thought he imagined it, but perhaps he was more attuned to the emotions of the city than he realized, because resolve seemed to harden in his chest. He looked to Robin, surprised to see his son also rubbing the skin over his heart. Perhaps the ectoplasm of the city affected them all more than they realized. Or perhaps that was simply a further demonstration of Phantom’s powers. Or perhaps it was simply Gotham, seeped into their blood and bones.

Commander Alpha fumed in the Gotham office suite he’d appropriated. Social media was brimming with trending topics like #LetThemRestInPeace, #Ghosts and #InfiniteRealms. It made the GIW leader’s blood boil. Somehow these spooks were turning everyone’s opinion against them. Clearly a massive case of overshadowing and possession. How else would the world see such dangerous and evil entities as worth saving? They were like a virus: the mimicry of life and nothing more.

He scrolled through his feed, nearly tossing his tablet across the room when he read the headline of “Senator Ernst Keeley condemns Anti-Ecto Acts! Claims Gotham should be a haven for the persecuted dead.” Idiots, the lot of them. They had no idea what ghosts could do. No appreciation of the sacrifices the GIW had made to protect the United States. No, not just America, the world!

It was time to show the world what ghosts were truly capable of. And then show them how the GIW had the means to exterminate them. “Operative S!” Commander Alpha barked.

There was no response. Odd. One of the reasons Commander Alpha had chosen Operative S as his personal assistant was his professionalism and timeliness. Perhaps he was on break?

“Operative S!” He shouted again, this time louder.

The door opened, but it was not the quiet and professional Operative S who came through.

“Sorry!” the other agent squeaked. “You called?”

Commander Alpha’s brow furrowed. “Where is Operative S?”

“Oh, he never showed up for his shift today. They assigned me to fill in. I just got there. Operative ZA reporting for duty!” And then the young agent saluted.

“At ease,” Commander Alpha replied. He tapped his fingers on the desk. How odd for Operative S to call out now. Then again, his assistant had been behaving strangely of late. He looked over at the substitute agent and found her lacking. She was clearly a newer recruit from her nervous energy and chatty demeanor. What an awful time to be stuck with a rookie.

“I want you to send a memo out to the other heads. We’re moving the plan up. I want the teams ready to move out in an hour. And Operation Lyssa ready to launch.”

“Yessir!”

A new notification popped up. Gotham News was reporting live from the Warehouse District. As well as several other sources. And ghost-themed hashtags had increased tenfold. Worst of all, #KingPhantom had joined the trending topics.

Commander Alpha opened the news link, fingers shaking. When he saw that glowing green visage of the so-called ghost king, his heart thudded, pumping faster in anticipation.

Commander Alpha’s gaze never left his tablet as he barked at Operative ZA, “Belay that order. I want every available agent in Gotham at the Warehouse District now!”

Chapter Text

Fear and Anger. That was all Alfred knew as he saw bloodied and battered Waynes through the centuries fall at his feet. James Wayne in his blood-soaked army uniform laying on a sandy beach while he coughed up blood. Catherine Wayne, who had died in childbirth of Alan Wayne while Alfred wrung his hands helplessly. Thomas and Martha Wayne laying in pools of their own blood while a young Bruce cried helplessly nearby, demanding Alfred tell him why he failed. Why had the Wayne protector not been able to protect them?

And the worst images of all, his grandchildren: Richard, Barbara, Jason, Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian and Duke all broken and beaten. Finally meeting an enemy they couldn’t match or outsmart. Dying despite Alfred’s care in suits he’d seen ripped and bloodied a hundred times before. The memory of young Jason too bruised and burned to be identified, carried home in Bruce’s arms, a Robin suit in tatters. Hearing of Stephanie’s heart stilling to nothing as Black Mask’s torture proved to be too much to bear. Countless near misses and deaths.

And Bruce – Alfred’s son – who Alfred had known as soon as he put on the Batsuit the first time that Bruce would die in it, in the rubble of a battleground alone and undefended. Alfred there too late to help. Alfred failing again, but this time failing the Wayne he’d cared for more than any other.

Alfred raged and grieved and feared every death that had happened or will happen, his Fraid falling from his reach forever. Until only the shade of Alfred remained.

So he launched himself at wicked grinning shadows, and clawed at the faces of villains and monsters who would seek his family harm. He raged and fought and tore. And he would continue to do so until his End.

And then, a rush of fear so powerful it felt like it was shredding Alfred’s very core. The visions fell away and there was only darkness and the fear surging through him. Like a bolt of lightning that shriveled his ectoplasm and warped his form. He very nearly collapsed into his core entirely, except something stopped it as Alfred’s collapse began. Something not of this world, nestled by his core. A vague memory of Anna, a pocketwatch and an Ancient.

What was left of Alfred’s facsimile of hands clutched the timepiece until the glass face cracked. And for a brief moment, time stopped.

Red Robin leapt through Eye-ris’ portal and his muscles tensed on instinct from the backlash of emotions as Wulf and Eye-ris argued in ghost-speak to one another. He couldn’t understand a bit of it, but he felt defiance radiating from Eye-ris while frustration and fretfulness radiated from her mentor, Wulf.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Wulf wants Eye-ris to go back to the clocktower,” Jazz explained. “As I’m sure is obvious, Eye-ris disagrees.”

“Ŝi estas malsaĝa infano.” Wulf growled.

“Kaj vi tro regas!” Eye-ris growled back.

“Phantom diris al mi, ke mi prizorgu vin!”

“Mi povas prizorgi min!”

Tim whistled, gathering the entire group’s attention. “Enough. Eye-ris, go back to the clocktower. We appreciate your help, but Wulf is right. We’re still in GIW territory and as far as I know, you aren’t trained in combat.”

Eye-ris puffed up, ready to protest, but Wulf admonished her first. “Baza defenda trejnado ne kalkulas.” His core thrummed something threatening that raised the hair on the back of Tim’s neck much like one of Phantom’s kingly commands.

Eye-ris made a sound much like the distorted static of a radio, just before cutting a portal into the air and stepping through. Tim just hoped the eyelet really was going somewhere safe. He knew all too well what it was like to be the kid who threw themselves into danger, heedless of consequences and full of spite against an authority figure.

“Speaking of the GIW, where are they?” Jazz asked, looking around the empty underground hallway.

Sam grumbled next to her, “It’s like you’re trying to jinx us.”

“I’ve observed white vans all over the city mobilize to converge on the Warehouse District. I expect most of their forces are on their way to where Phantom just made a big speech,” Oracle reported.

“Good, just like we planned.” Tim twirled his bo staff into a more relaxed grip, then consulted his wrist gauntlet for the map the GIW servers had provided to where they stored their so-called specimens.

“This way,” he said, leading the team down the hallway. The hall was eerily silent, broken only by occasional drip of water from whatever pipes ran above the tunnels, and the footsteps of Tim’s team.

“Shouldn’t they have at least kept a few guys down here?” Sam asked. “Tactically speaking?”

“Unless they have already determined this facility to no longer be worth defending,” Fright Knight pointed out.

“Or it’s a trap,” Tim muttered.

Nightwing sent a commiserating look at Tim. “And with our luck it probably is a trap.”

“Probably,” Tim admitted.

“Aren’t you two rays of sunshine,” Sam said sarcastically.

“Says the person who showed up looking like a combat-ready Goth,” Nightwing quipped back.

Red Robin’s wrist computer beeped, and he stopped in front a door that the GIW had marked down for specimen storage. Sam immediately sensed for magical traps, while Nightwing began to work at unlocking the door. Tim, Fright Knight, and Jazz stood ready to attack if necessary. But what lay behind the door was nothing any of them expected.

Instead of lockers filled with ghost containment devices or even a shelf of cores like Danny had reported finding in one GIW base, instead they entered something that looked more like an underground hospital room.

Beds lined alongside either wall, nearly two-thirds of them already containing physical bodies. All of them were hooked up to standard health monitoring devices, and most indicated vital signs of being alive. But not all. It reminded Tim more of something they would find by Scarecrow, not a government agency obsessed with ghosts.

Jazz darted to the closest bed and picked up the chart hanging on the end. As she read the notes, her face paled and her blue eyes glowed with anger.

“They’re experimenting on people!” She exclaimed. “Living humans. The same people their misguided, idiotic mission is supposed to protect. This….THIS…UGH!”

Nightwing took the chart from Jazz’s hands as she began to pace, ranting about Hippocratic oaths and the Geneva convention. “I expected fear gas,” he said. “But it’s more than that. They’re trying to simulate near-death experiences to monitor ectoplasm levels.”

Tim snatched a different chart from a nearby bed. Because he knew the GIW were doing something with living people after hearing Nightmare Fuel’s testimony. But this was worse than he imagined. This wasn’t just testing drugs. (Albeit that was already highly immoral and illegal.). But this was literally killing people on purpose. Murder in the name of science.

He verified Nightwing and Jazz’s claims through the progress notes, and then drifted back to the first page to determine what drugs the patients were currently hooked up to. Currently nothing lethal at least. The patient appeared to only be on some kind of sedative to keep them unconscious.

Red Robin pressed a finger to his comm and switched channels briefly. “Truther, how is the smear campaign going?”

“Great! We’re about to start streaming live from Amity Park. What’s up?”

Tim rolled his eyes at Wes’ casualness over official Bat-communications. “I have a new lead for you to run with. Coordinate with Oracle to have her send GCPD our way. I think we’re sitting on the lead of a whole host of missing persons’ cases.”

“And not just from Amity!” Sam said across the room. “Specimen 8-1-98 over here is from Metropolis.”

“And Specimen 8-1-75 is from Bludhaven,” Nightwing growled, looking at another clipboard.

“Call in whatever FBI is in Gotham too,” Tim added to Wes.

“Uhhhhh…I don’t think they’ll want to talk to me again,” Wes said. “I was a bit of a frequent caller in high school.”

“I’m on it,” Oracle said. “Truther, just keep up what you’re doing. And if you can, get traction started on reports about GIW abducting American citizens for experimentation.”

Truther scoffed at the other end of the line. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already been doing that.”

Tim looked over the room. “We have more areas to check. Nightwing and Jazz, stay here. Sam, Fright Knight, Wulf and I will continue on.”

“Aye, aye, team leader,” Nightwing replied with a lazy salute, already waltzing about the room, taking stock of the various bodies, both living and dead while Jazz fussed about consulting charts and monitoring vital signs

Sam cracked her knuckles, and both Fright Knight and Wulf looked ready to tear some GIW agents apart. All three of them wore feral grins.

Red Robin led the rest of his team back through the hallways until they stumbled upon another locked door to a storage facility. Sam once again checked for magical traps and had to take down a minor electrocution ward. This time Tim was the one picking the locks while the two ghosts watched out for GIW.

Upon opening the door, both ghosts’ attentions were diverted as they flinched at the sight of a glowing green electrical field around shelves laden with orb-like objects.

Fright Knight’s fiery hair rose to new heights and the shadows of the hall deepened as fury pulsed from the guardian spirit. His fist clenched around the hilt of Soul Shredder. Wulf meanwhile glitched and began to teleport randomly around the hall in anxiousness, snarling and growling while his eyes flashed dangerously.

“Fiuloj!” Wulf spat. “Tiu Reĝo Phantom malbenas siajn animojn post malrapida kaj dolora morto.”

“We cannot enter. The Anti-ghost shielding will disrupt our ectoplasm and weaken us,” Fright Knight said, his voice taking on an extra growl and distortion with the intensity of his emotions.

Sam’s face was pale and she shook from her own tension standing in the doorway. She radiated rage, but he was certain part of the paleness was due to nausea too. Staring in the room would be not unlike staring at a room full of intensive care patients crammed together and kept under lock and key. Her violet eyes also glowed.

Red Robin entered the room first, his computer scanning for any further traps. But it appeared the only technology in there was built to keep out the dead, not the living. He glanced at the cores, mildly surprised to see careful labels detailing the Specimen number, location of capture, and a brief description of the powers observed. From what Tim could see, most appeared to be shades or other low level ecto-entities. One core that listed a note about being formed on site nearly made his nausea peak into emptying the contents of stomach. It was one thing to suffer experimentation and torture in life, but it was an even worse crime to prolong it even after death.

“We need to get them out of here. Now,” Sam Manson said through gritted teeth.

“We will,” Tim said, eyes finally falling on what looked like some kind of crossfeed or hub for the electrically-powered netting around the shelves. He unscrewed and pried open the casing to fiddle with the wires. Thankfully, there were circuit breakers that would automatically shut down the system in case of an overload. And Red Robin had plenty of experience in causing electrical overloads. He pulled out an energy source from his belt and connected it. In moments, the breakers popped, and the netting shut down.

As it did so, Tim glimpsed to the right and felt his anger boil even higher. Because he read the plaque of Specimen 3-6-17, captured in Gotham on yesterday’s date. It detailed field observations of umbrakinesis, general ecto-entity capabilities, and link with city ectoplasmic energies. The bottom line had reference to a similar specimen.  

He had just found Lady Gotham.

Without really thinking about it, Tim scooped her into his hands, cradling her carefully. Despite never having met her or even known about her existence until recently, she felt familiar. Memories washed over him of climbing up to rooftops to stalk Gotham vigilantes and feeling a small push help him reach the rung of a fire escape his diminutive nine-year-old body couldn’t quite reach. Being Robin and feeling an extra gust of wind help him stick the landing on a rooftop as he grappled through the city, breathless with wonder and adrenaline. Becoming Red Robin and grieving more than the identity and family he left behind when he searched for clues to find Bruce’s whereabouts in the timestream.  Returning triumphant and the feeling of entering the city wrapping around him like the hug of something not necessarily good but certainly affectionate, welcoming him home.

Lady Gotham had always been there. Protecting him, even long before he became one of her knights. And now it was time to return the favor.

“Let’s get our city back,” he whispered to the core.

The core – glass-like with silk-like whorls of grey and green swirling together within – pulsed in time to Red Robin’s heartbeat.  He only distantly heard Sam calling him while she and Fright Knight collected cores so Wulf could portal them to safety in Phantom’s Keep. Instead, all Tim could focus on was the heart of Gotham that entranced him like the sunrise over the skyline painted in the most vivid colors from the pollution. She was weak, but just like her people, Lady Gotham was fueled by spite and had an obstinacy that bordered the line of lunacy. She was many things, but at her core – just like her people – she was a survivor. The core in Tim’s hands began to rumble like a motorcycle in a police chase, shriek like rusty pipes groaning with strain, and cackle like black crows. The core pulsed with sewer-green light, and Lady Gotham awoke.  

Phantom took in a shuddering breath next to Superman, his sister beside him literally buzzing in impatience. Clark furrowed his brow at the ghost considering Phantom had neither heart nor lungs that would require him to breathe.

“The GIW just showed up to the Gotham Battleground,” Phantom explained, catching Clark’s confused glance and misinterpreting it.

“Finally!” Dani Phantasm – Phantom’s clone sister – explained beside him. “That means we can start Operation Takeback Amity!”

“I don’t think Red Robin ever agreed to that name,” Phantom pointed out.

“He didn’t disagree either.”

Clark smiled at the two ghosts interacting. They truly did act like two siblings. Well, two feral siblings from the way their banter had devolved into play-fighting. Aaaand now Dani was biting Danny’s arm, while the older ghost tried shaking her off.

Clark’s ears perked when he heard his wife call to him from the opposite outskirts of the city. Out where media agencies from around the world were almost to the site of one of the US government’s largest coverups of all time. Big enough that even the government hadn’t seemed to know about it until recently. But after today, the whole world would know of Amity Park. “We’re ready, Clark,” Lois said, excitement of a groundbreaking story in her tone.

Clark smiled to himself. Over his JL communicator he asked, “everyone at their stations?”

A chorus of agreements came back from Martian Manhunter’s somber “affirmative” to Flash’s “hell yeah!” Beside Superman, Wonder Woman wore a fierce battle grin, even though they all knew this wouldn’t be much a fight as it was a show of unity and strength. The real battle was being fought in Gotham.

Phantom threw an arm around Red Huntress, his other arm tugging in his clone sister for a group hug. “We are so ready for this.”

Red Huntress brushed the ghost off. “Focus, Phantom. We can hug it out once we free our town.”

Phantom grinned wider. “You, Red Huntress, will actually allow hugs?”

“One hug. Singular,” Red Huntress said pointedly through the voice modulator in her helmet.

“Oh good. I was starting to wonder who you were and what you’d done with Red,” Dani quipped.

Clark coughed. “Ready?”

“Were you not listening, Big Blue? Duh,” Dani said.

Clark pressed the transmit button on his communicator. “Dark and Pharaoh, bring it all down.”

Zatanna and Pharaoh both responded in the affirmative. Over their joint channel, the count down began. The heroes around braced themselves.

At “one” from Pharaoh, the usually invisible magical shield began to glow green and pulsed with eerie light. It grew brighter and brighter until everyone had to avert their gaze. Clark’s heart quickened, worried that perhaps Justice League Dark and the rest of the team assigned to taking down Amity Park’s shielding had failed and something was wrong.

But then the invisible pressure of magic faded, as did the light. Clark dropped his hand and looked back down at Amity Park, relieved to see it all appeared in one piece. He flew forward and smiled when he felt no unease or resistance as he drew closer. It was just like entering a normal town.

Just in time, for in the distance on the one highway that wove through to the Illinois town, came the news vans. Amity Park was back on the map.

Of course, with the GIW wards and electronic defenses down, the GIW had been alerted that something was wrong. And now – from the opposite direction – uniform white vans came speeding down the highway too.

Hal stretched his arms over his head. “Looks like it’s time about time for your grand entrance, spooks,” the Lantern addressed Phantom and Dani.

The two ghosts exchanged equally chaotic smiles. They slipped into invisibility as they headed down to Amity Park main street by the park where most of the town was already gathered. All of them ready to confront the government agency that had held their town captive for nearly six years. Red Huntress was quick to follow to stand with her fellow Amity-Parkers.

The mess of road violations that was the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle squealed into the park. The Fentons burst out, weapons drawn. Not against ghosts, but with them. They stood with the rest of the town as the GIW entered the scene. There were only a few vehicles, most of the GIW’s forces at the Gotham location. Just over a dozen agents spilled out.

“Citizens, return to your homes! There is a ghost attack in progress!” One of the GIW announced through a megaphone.

Clark picked up the protests from the Amity Park citizens with ease. An elderly man claimed, “Ghosts?! I don’t see any ghosts here.”

A middle-aged woman in designer clothes from a decade ago shouted back, “In fact the only ones who seem to be disrupting the peace are you!”

A man in a polo and khakis at her side added, “And I’m not afraid to take you to court again for this.”

Another GIW agent spoke up, “and as we have proven before, our activities are federally sanctioned. You have no recourse.”

At this moment, Phantom and Phantasm popped into the visible spectrum. “Not for much longer, assholes!” Phantasm shouted, and then blew a green-tongued raspberry.

Phantom appeared first in his teenage vigilante form, but as he stood there, he flickered and changed, growing older and larger. His crown and ring manifested, as did his cloak of stars. Behind him, the people of Amity Park stood in silent support.

“Phantom!” Several of the GIW agents gasped.

“In the flesh…well, ectoplasm anyway,” Danny quipped with a fanged grin.

“Call Agent Alpha that we have a confirmed Specimen 1-7-9 sighting,” the agent with the megaphone told his comrades. “Along with Specimen 1-6-5. We’ll capture and contain.”

“You’re not going to do anything of the sort,” the current mayor of Amity Park stepped forward.

“And if you try, you go through all of us,” Red Huntress growled, arming some sort of blasters on her arms.

“You have held our town hostage long enough,” Phantom said. “This is your only warning.”

By now, news helicopters had reached the center of town and were hovering over the proceedings. Several GIW heartrates picked up at their presence.

“You have no authority here, spook,” a GIW agent spat.

“Showtime,” Clark signaled to the other Justice Leaguers. As one, they descended into Amity Park and stood in front of Phantom and Phantasm.

Superman and Wonder Woman approached the white-suited agents while the rest of the Justice Leaguers present formed a defensive line in front of the people of Amity Park.

“Though the unjust laws you cower behind may not give King Phantom a voice here, we still have one,” Wonder Woman announced, the full force of her Amazonian presence shining through. Any self-respecting person would falter under her current glower.

Clark stood at her side and picked up where she left off. “The Justice League will not stand ignorant or idle any longer as a government holds innocent people hostage. Nor will we condone the actions of any government that stands for genocide of any kind.”

Several GIW agents shifted uneasily. Understandable. Much more powerful entities had trembled in front of the force of so many Justice League members. The Amity Parkers were blessedly silent, standing firm in their defiance of the government entity that had terrorized them for the past six years. Despite the initial animosity towards the Justice League from the report of Wonder Woman and Batman’s first visit, it was clear the town would stand with them now in the face of a common enemy.

In the distance, Clark could hear newscasters already beginning live broadcasts reporting on the showdown of American agents and Justice League in a town that had miraculously reappeared after years of being hidden from the public. Just as they planned.

The agent with the megaphone sneered. “It’s corrupted you. It’s corrupted you all! Phantom might have you all fooled, but we will cleanse this town from its corruption.”

Wonder Woman bristled beside Clark, her hands tightening on her lasso. She looked ready to launch herself at the GIW agent, and Clark didn’t think he’d feel bothered to stop her if she did. He kind of wanted to pummel this agent to the ground himself. These were the same arguments people had used throughout history to condemn anything they thought of as “other.” He still remembered the days of fighting for metahuman and alien rights on this planet. It was the same story, different players. And Superman would continue to defend a sentient being’s right to exist every time.

The agent continued, “If you stand between us and the ecto-entities, you are breaking federal law.” He was smug, as if that argument was enough to dissuade any of them. But the Justice League didn’t bind themselves to single country. They were heroes of the entire planet and beyond.

Superman didn’t even hesitate to say, “so be it. So long as the American government chooses to persecute other sentient beings, the Justice League will stand against them.”

The GIW agents shifted again. The one with the megaphone clenched his jaw.

“Then we have no other choice. Agents, capture the ecto-entities!”

And so the battle commenced. Though it was hardly much of one. While the GIW did have unfamiliar weapons, they were outnumbered and facing legendary heroes: demigods, aliens, metahumans, and the others among their ranks who had once been deemed unnatural for not being “normal.”  Amity Parkers were quick to join the fray too. Phantom, Phantasm and Red Huntress joined the battle, and the townsfolk lent their support as distractions and general nuisances to the government agents. The battle was over in minutes with no casualties reported.

Reporters and newscasters swarmed Phantom from where he was being cheered on by the townsfolks as the GIW were tied up until other government enforcements arrived once the President finished signing the emergency order to end the Anti-Ecto Acts.

Dani Phantasm was practically pouting as she floated next to Clark and Red Huntress. “You know that was totally lame after all that build up.”

Red Huntress ruffled Dani’s ghostly white hair. “You knew this was more for show than an actual battle, squirt. Besides, after six years of being held hostage by these guys, I think we were due for a break.”

Dani groaned. “I can’t believe I left the Realms for this.”

“We appreciated having you stand with us,” Wonder Woman said. “And I think your brother was grateful too.”

Dani snorted. “Yeah, Danny is soooo going to owe me for this. I have field trip to an apocalyptic wasteland Mad-Max style with our names on it.”

Clark was definitely concerned by that statement, but he had learned with Danielle Phantasm that it was better not to ask. Instead, he basked in the late afternoon sun shining on a town that was finally free to join the world again. He hoped their teams in Gotham were faring just as well.

There was a lot to dislike about Gotham. Practically everything about it to be honest. Weather? Awful. People? Rude at best, and criminally insane at worst. Pollution was off the charts, as was the crime. That didn’t even get into all the crises and curses of Gotham that continued to make it absolute hell to live in, let alone visit. Any rational person stayed far, far outside the city limits.

But as Danny had come to find, Gotham had a way of seeping into one’s bones and blood like a disease. For no one hated Gotham more than Gothamites themselves; living through the trauma of crime and calamity. And yet, they would rather die than live anywhere else. Gothamites might hate their city, but it was theirs. And they were Gotham’s. Kinship forged in the shared suffering. And that was a kind of devotion all its own.

When the GIW came for Phantom in the Warehouse District, they were already worn down. For Gotham had heard Phantom’s call to protect, and Gothamites would always protect their own. Oracle reported – practically giggling over the line – that GIW had found themselves on the wrong end of a Gothamites’ tempers all over the city. All the bridges in and out of the city suddenly had traffic jams, the likes of which were usually only seen during an emergency evacuation. Police cordoned off downtown as they proclaimed the entire neighborhood an ongoing crime scene. Neighborhood roads were lined with nail traps and homemade barricades. Traffic cones and warning signs were removed from around potholes. Firetrucks and ambulances blocked whole intersections. The roads all around Gotham University were flooded with students and locals alike protesting the GIW in Gotham. And in the other neighborhoods, reports were coming in of GIW scrambling because their comrades were vanishing in mob and gang territory.

  And this didn’t even include everything that had been done to every white van Gothamites could get their hands on. Apparently all the GIW agents formerly on site in Crime Alley and surrounding neighborhoods had had to find alternate means of transportation because every single white van had been de-tired. The white vans that did manage to make their way to the Warehouse District were graffitied, dirty, and groaning in protest from whatever had been added to fuel tanks or removed from engines.

Beside Danny, a ghost who looked more like a goblin than a child smirked. “That’s some Bowrey kid handiwork right there,” she said, pointing a clawed finger at a white van shuddering and smoking as it squealed to a stop in the square.

“Gotham protects its own,” another ghost – who looked rather like a skeletal grim reaper - said on Danny’s other side.

Danny grinned as both ghosts proceeded to launch themselves at GIW agents harassing Robin who had joined the fray earlier. “Gotham protects its own,” Danny echoed. He looked around the battleground.

Unfortunately, the ghosts were not making much headway. It was clear that the agents were wearing some variant of the specter deflectors Danny’s parents had invented so long ago. Ghosts were limited to ranged attacks and throwing whatever they could get their hands on. Some followed the example of their living brethren and attacked the GIW vehicles until they were capable of nothing except becoming scrap metal.

Danny shot a ray of ice to freeze a few GIW agents who were about to corner some Gotham shades. He then felt an arrow whizz by close to his ear. He looked up just in time to see Green Arrow grappling between warehouses. “Watch your six, Phantom!” the vigilante shouted as be passed by, proceeding to slam into an agent with an arrow in their shoulder and an uncapped thermos in their hand that had likely been meant for Danny.

“Thank you!” Danny shouted after the Justice Leaguer.

Another vigilante touched down next to Danny, nearly blending in with the shadows: Batman. “I have him covered,” Batman reported into his comm and then faced his back to Danny, batarangs prepped in each hand for an attack.

“If my fourteen-year-old self could see me know…” Danny quipped. “He’d probably think this is some sort of fever dream.”

“Focus, Phantom,” Batman growled. Then proceeded to whip three batarangs in quick succession that pinned a GIW agent to the ground.

Danny turned back to the fight. He had to dodge a few ectoblasts, and very nearly got caught up in a ectoplasmic destabilizer, but kicked the grenade like object into the sky so it exploded far above him. “Okay, I know the GIW made a habit of digging through the Fentons’ trash, but I’m like 79-percent certain I incinerated the blueprints for that one.”

Batman grunted in warning.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Focus.”

The fight continued. And it was going well. Too well. Despite being unable to touch them, ghosts were overwhelming the already exhausted agents. But the tide began to turn when a familiar face pushed his way onto the battlefield. He wore something that looked more like a military uniform instead of the suit Danny had seen him in last time they crossed paths, but the thick black mustache, broad frame, and angry eyebrows were unmistakably him.

“Agent Alpha, long time no see. Where have you been hiding away these days?” Phantom shouted as he flew towards the agent who’d been a thorn in his side for years.

“Phantom!” Agent Alpha barked. “This day will be your last!”

“Oof. Is that all you got? Nothing about ripping me apart molecule by molecule? Crushing my core to dust? Dude, your trash talk is rusty.”

Agent Alpha was an undecipherable brick wall, standing amidst a squad of other agents waiting for his orders. Good thing Phantom could sense emotions. And Agent Alpha’s emotions were concerning. There was the understandable frustration and anger overwhelming the deeply nestled nugget of fear that fueled the agent’s paranoia towards ghosts. But there was also smugness and glee. Agent Alpha had a plan, and Danny knew he couldn’t let the GIW leader enact it.

Phantom charged his fists, ready to hurl ectoblasts, but Agent Alpha gave his orders before Phantom could do anything. “Release them!”

Nearly a dozen agents pulled thermoses from their hips. Any ghosts in the nearby vicinity skittered away, knowing that being anywhere near the openings of those machines meant instant soup-time. Except the agents weren’t drawing anyone in. They were letting something out.

From the soup thermoses, nearly three dozen ghosts were released into the Gotham night, wailing and screeching. Every ghost in the vicinity shivered and shuddered from the onslaught of volatile emotions. It was as if the cores of the released ghosts were screaming in Danny’s ear.

The ghosts of Gotham were stunned momentarily, but the rabid ghosts released by the GIW had no such hesitation. They launched themselves at ghosts and living people alike. There was no recognition in their eyes of anything they were doing. Just pure fear and rage driving them to madness like a ghostling freshly formed from a traumatic death. Danny could sense some of them were ghostlings. Likely ghosts that had formed from some of the living kidnapped and experimented on by the GIW like Nightmare Fuel.

Danny’s core pulsed with rage. His protection obsessions surged to the forefront of his thoughts seeing his people reduced to shells of who they are. How dare the GIW do this. How dare they take Phantom’s people and reduce them to this.

A skeleton-like ghost with eyes aflame in sickly green howled and launched themselves at one of the news vans filming the battle from the sidelines. “STOP,” Phantom commanded.

It made no difference. The ghost was beyond reason from whatever was affecting them. So Phantom attacked. He shot a blast of ectoplasm to the ghost, hitting them directly on their back before they could claw off the face of a cowering videographer.

“I’d advise retreating,” he told the news crews, before turning back to Agent Alpha.

It didn’t escape Danny’s notice how the feral ghosts didn’t attack the white-suited agents. The specter deflector probably had additional adjustments to make them either impervious or invisible to the attacks of the rabid ghosts.

Phantom headed straight for Agent Alpha, more emotion than logic at this point as his anger pulsed through him. He screeched in pain when he was thrown away by the shield his ghostly emotions had forgotten about. The rabid ghosts descended on him, screeching and clawing and desperate. Phantom had the power to take them all at once, to force them away in one move. But he couldn’t. Not without Ending them. And he couldn’t do that to his subjects. Not when they were merely sick and frightened. So he clawed and kicked and blasted away his attackers with the intent of doing no permanent harm.

And in the meantime, the GIW reveled in the change of the battle’s tide. Ghosts fighting for Gotham and the Infinite Realms were captured in now empty thermoses. Some fought the rabid ghosts and they began to change, as if infected like a zombie bite, growing as feral as their brethren. Whatever this Lyssa Serum was, it acted like a ghost virus.

“Fall back to higher ground,” Batman announced over the comm link to the vigilantes in their midst.

“I’m cornered between Warehouses 76-B and A,” Spoiler announced.

Phantom’s core pulsed as reports came in from the whole team as they were all split up and cornered, their foes multiplying as their allies were turned. A wail began to build in his core. If this kept up long enough, Danny didn’t think he’d be able to keep himself from letting it out.

Agent Alpha approached, his white uniform still irritatingly pristine and a smirk underneath his mustache. “Finally, finally, I will see your end, Phantom. The end of you and all your kind. No longer will ectoplasmic entities threaten the sanctity of this world.”

Danny bared his teeth at the agent, tearing away a rabid ghost even as something clouded his vision and tinted it green. “The only one threatening this world is you, assholes, with your delusions. This world belongs to the Dead just as much as it belongs to the Living.”

Danny’s mind felt too muddled to think, so he forgot Agent Alpha was shielded, and swiped at him again, only to be thrown back several yards. It felt like another small death as electricity surged through him briefly.

Agent Alpha pulled out a thermos and the voices of Danny’s comrades filled his ear like irritating static.

“Does anyone have eyes on Phantom?”

“I think he’s down!”

“Shit! I see him! He’s about to be souped! I’m too far out.”

“Where?!”

Danny closed his eyes, already anticipating the beam of light from the Fenton thermos before it encased him. But the familiar feeling of being condensed into a small space never came. Neither did the white light. If anything, the world behind his eyelids seemed to lose light.

Danny opened his eyes to darkness.

“What is going on?! I can’t see shit!” Arsenal exclaimed.

“Bats?!” Green Arrow demanded. “Is this your kid?”

“Signal is not present, imbecile,” Robin remarked.

But Danny knew this darkness. It was the same darkness that had greeted him when he first arrived at Gotham. The dark tendrils that could soothe just as easily as they could snap bones. Darkness cold and slimy like fog rolling over the Gotham harbor at night.

“About time, Birdie,” Danny whispered.

“What is this?!” Agent Alpha barked to his subordinates, “Report!”

“It’s ectoplasmic for sure. I-it’s logged in our system. Specimen 3-6-17,” an agent reported.

“How did it escape?!” Agent Alpha demanded.

But before anyone could reply, the darkness screamed. And it was just as blood-curdling as any Gotham night.