Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason was having a dull night. Batman and his aviary had already taken care of the Penguin and Mr. Freeze over by Robinson Park. Not that he wanted to work with them, but he was getting bored. Crime Alley was borderline peaceful. He’d only stopped seven muggings! He brushed some gravel off his leather biker jacket, grappling up to the top of a roof. The last thug had gotten blood on his body armor after Jason broke his nose. He tried to wipe it off with his gloves, before then rubbing that off on his jeans.

The sigh sounded fuzzy through the modulated voice his helmet let out. His patrol was wrapping up anyway. He was about to head to one of his safehouses when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He drew his guns, whipping around to an empty rooftop. 

He kept his weapons raised as he scanned the area. Nothing, nothing, nothing— boots, gray boots with blue laces. Jason looked up to see a humanoid figure with electric green eyes and matching flaming hair and goatee hovering at least ten feet above him. They were wearing a black tank top and pants on top of an off-white robotic suit with dark gray gauntlets over the wrists. Why did a robot need clothes? The figure accessorized with a dark gray shoulder guard on his left shoulder, a dark gray belt slung across his chest, a gray utility belt that has a blue "S" on the buckle, and a necklace with a white skull on it. Probably someone piloting the suit, in it or via some control center. 

They introduced themselves, shouting, “I am Skulker! Greatest hunter in all the realms!” 

“Great, another wannabe in a mech suit,” Red Hood grumbled, his modulated voice playing through his helmet. “What do you want?”

“To capture you!” the figure helpfully informed Jason. Skulker went on, “You're one of a kind! Dead and alive at the same time, not just switching between the two whenever you please like a halfa.” Jason’s skin crawled. He didn’t know what the fuck a halfa was, but he didn’t want anything to do with this.

“Oh? I’m special? Gee, makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.” Red Hood shot him in the head. The rubber bullet dented the metal on his temple.
“Ha! Prepare yourself for battle, welp!” Skulker yelled as multiple rocket launchers appeared from his shoulders. 

Well, shit.

He fired his grappling hook and zipped away. He needed to get some distance before any civilians were caught in the crossfires. If this guy was going to be using heavy ammo, then the collateral would be hard to contain. As he swiftly swung towards the docks, rockets began chasing him. Thankfully, whenever he dodged one, they seemed to explode mid-air without shedding any debris. He could feel the heat from the burst, so it was definitely real, but for whatever reason, no metal was falling down to rain on some unsuspecting shmuck’s head.  

The guy was gaining on him, so Jason tried to distract him, shouting, “What? Was Lobo too busy, so the Preserver hired you instead?” 

Skulker matched his pace, but stopped actively shooting to raise an eyebrow. “I’ve no idea who you’re referring to,” he stated. 

“You just woke up today and decided to fight little old me all on your own?” Hood pressed. Because really? Who in their right mind did that? A bounty at least made sense. Why else would someone try to pick a fight with him? Just because he died?

“Why must my prey question this? Skulker hunts what he hunts. Nothing more, nothing less.” He sounded exasperated as he shook his head. A grin split across his face with jagged teeth then Skulker’s voice boomed, “Now battle me, welp, for this hunt shall be grand!” The rockets went away and he pulled some kind of canon out. It fired a net at a speed that moved faster than it had any right to. The damn thing nearly hit him if he hadn’t let himself fall a good five feet before firing his grappling hook again. 

Hood reached into his pocket and flung a handful of explosives behind him. They detonated in the air, hitting square where the fucker had been flying except now he was just gone. There was nothing but the stale Gotham air surrounding him.

Jason shifted his weight to slow his swing as he scanned the area. “What the hell?” he said before slamming into something hard. He wasn’t that close to the buildings. What did he hit? There was something sharp digging into his biceps and he felt his body pinned. Dread washed over him like a cold shower as the mechanical arms tightened around him. 

“Got you,” Skulker sing-songed. 

Jason squirmed, kneeing the guy in the groin before managing to get an arm free and take a swing at the bastard’s head. Just as he was about to make contact, the guy was gone again and Jason was quickly descending towards the pavement. 

“ Motherfucker —”

Danny was getting ready for bed, brushing out the tangles from his charcoal hair. He had a presentation tomorrow and he wasn’t going to have bags under his eyes so dark that he looked like he got punched in the face this time. As he was slipping under his blanket and resting his head against his pillow, Danny felt a tug on his core that yanked him to the floor. 

“Ancients, what now?” Danny mumbled under his breath. 

It was hard to explain the feeling as his shadow grew darker and pulled at him. Guiding him out. He stumbled into the living room— ha. He couldn’t quite hear her voice, but he could tell it was Lady Gotham. The city spirit had been quiet since he moved here, but now she was frantically shoving him around. Danger, her knight, ghost attack . He could figure out the gist of what she was telling him. “Get your subjects under control before one of my knights gets hurt.” Message received. 

“What happened to going to bed early?” Sam asked, flipping through a textbook with her small reading light illuminating the pages as she sat on the windowsill of her reading nook. Her black spiderweb-lace nightgown was adorned with purple bats that matched the colored streak in her otherwise inky bob that she recently got done the last time she was talked into going to a salon. “You can’t borrow my makeup to hide your eyebags. It’s not your color. Unless you want a full goth—”

“I have to sort out something ghost related.” 

“Should I go with you?” she offered.

“Nah, it’s not that serious. You have a test to study for. Can’t use me as an excuse to get out of it,” Danny teased.

“Yeah, I’m the one who uses ghosts as an excuse,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. 

“I mean, you did say you only bombed that algebra quiz because of the box ghost,” Tucker remarked, sliding his sleep mask into place as he pulled his sheets up to his shoulders, nestling into the couch pillow that he insisted was more comfortable than the bed in his room. 

“Because YOU moved my textbooks into a BOX that he then flew across the city with!” Sam shouted.

“Hey, some of us are actually trying to sleep here. Can you keep it down?” Tucker dismissed. 

“The walls aren’t thin here. You’d be fine sleeping in your own room,” Danny remarked, trying to hide the smile growing on his face before Sam redirected her anger at him.

“But the fridge is right here for my midnight snack!” Tucker insisted. “And this couch is way nicer than the lumpy rock Sam put in my room.”

“Hey!” Sam yelled.

“Volume,” Tucker chided.

Sam paid for the condo they all lived in. It was nicer than any of the apartments he’d been looking at, and safer. Danny paid her some rent. She accepted the rare jewels and other treasures that filled the ghost king’s coffers as well as the occasional occult relic. Pariah Dark had been quite the pillager in his reign, and the spoils went to the crown. Since it’d look suspicious for some random guy from Illinois to have a mountain of gold and jewels, he traded them to Sam for cash. 

They took turns cooking. Sam even let him add meat to his share of the meal while she had the veggie version. Tucker lived off of take out, and was more than happy to barter for his rent, helping Sam hack into whatever ‘evil’ organization she wanted dirt on for her blog. He didn’t help with much of the cleaning, but at least Tucker took the trash out. It was good living with his best friends. 

There was another hard tug on his core that pulled him into the wall. Danny let out an ‘oof’ before laughing. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll hurry up. I’m going ghost!” he said as two white rings encased his body. 

Danny's ghost form changed over the years as he grew. There were scattered pieces of armor, knee high boots, a gauntlet on one arm, a single shoulder pad where his cape dangled from. The cape that held a nebula inside it and was ever shifting. It emanated cold, just like the depths of space, but Danny was used to the cold, fully embracing his ice core. Despite his best efforts, he’d also ascended to the throne, now wearing the ring of rage, no longer a tiny skull but a star on his finger that shone brightly. There was a bluish-green crown made of frozen fire that flickered lazily above his head. Anyone other than Danny who touched it got nasty frostburn. It was bigger than the dinky little crown Pariah Dark wore. Thankfully it shifted to suit Danny’s tastes, because he hated that ugly little thing.

Lady Gotham threw him into the wall. Danny laughed as he phased through it. He stayed invisible as he flew across Gotham, letting the city spirit guide him. 

“You know if you told me where this was happening, I could just portal there,” Danny mused.

The city spirit slapped him in the back of the head. Her strength was too thin for her to properly form words. She must have used all her energy aiding her knights. Now she could barely point him in the right direction. Danny sped up as he followed her directions.

The warehouse was full of crates and shipping containers, but this had to be the one of the only legal operations since there were no goons stalking around. Jason leaned against the wall. The cold stone seeped through the hole in his jacket contrasted by the warmth of blood trickling down his left side. He was encased in shadow as he hid behind a shipping container. He could see Skulker floating above him, weapons raised. 

“I know you’re in here living-dead,” the hunter taunted.

Skulker circled the warehouse like a shark, pulling out a pair of binoculars from his shoulder. Jason held his breath as the guy looked his way. His gaze didn’t so much as linger as he flew around the floor. Skulker disappeared into the backrooms before emerging from the second floor. He was frowning, no longer enjoying his stupid hunt. With a huff, he flew through the ceiling, phasing through the concrete. How many powers did this guy have?

Minutes passed. The guy wasn’t back yet. Jason pressed his hand against his wound to apply some pressure to it.

Was Skulker bluffing? Did he make it so he only looked like he left? He could teleport or something like teleporting with how he disappeared and reappeared. After another ten minutes passed, Jason took a risk, shifting to get a better view of the warehouse without leaving cover. Empty. 

Cautiously, he stepped out into the flickering light that illuminated the shitty warehouse to make his way towards the doors.  He needed to raid one of the Bats safehouses. While he liked to steal from Bruce, Tim’s was the closest. He should still have one a few warehouses over. It was easier to steal a medkit and stitch himself up now since he didn’t feel like dripping blood all the way home.

Electricity coursed through his body. It was worse than a taser, but somehow he stayed conscious. Hood fell to his knees, catching himself by his hands before he could face-plant into the concrete floor. 

“Found you,” Skulker said with a grin, chuckling to himself.

Jason waited for the fucker to walk closer to him with that cocky self-assurance before he kicked, launching the bastard through a crate. The wood splintered under the hunter’s form. 

“Good,” Skulker remarked, his eyes glowing. “I was afraid you’d make it too easy.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, tossing a grenade to the asshole. “We wouldn’t want that.”

It blew, launching pieces of wood everywhere as Skulker fell to the floor, black soot covering his clothes. He was otherwise fine. Jason grit his teeth, a wave of unease settling in his stomach as the hunter laughed. He threw down a smoke bomb and darted for cover. He needed time to think.

“Ancients, what are you doing now?” Danny groaned. Skulker. Of course it was Skulker. The greatest hunter of the realms was currently raining energy blasts from the guns on his forearms while Red Hood hid behind some crates for cover. The box ghost would have loved it here. 

There was a darkness that shielded Hood from Skulker’s binoculars as he scanned the room, spraying bullets as he spun around. Lady Gotham didn’t have the same form that he and Skulker had, so she couldn’t just fight the hunter herself. He felt for her. That’d be so frustrating if he could only drop the temperature if Sam or Tucker were in trouble. 

Skulker was making such a mess. There were daggers with his face on them embedded in the walls. He could at least use more discreet weaponry. What if the GIW managed to find his gear?

“Ancients? Where the fuck did you come from? A renaissance fair?” Red Hood jeered. The comment was wildly contrasted by the emotions the city spirit was projecting onto him, love, protect, safe.

“Am I getting bullied?” Danny laughed. Now he understood why Lady Gotham liked him so much. He was fun. Shame he’d be staying away from him after this was over. Getting involved with the Bats was going to ruin his studies like fighting ghosts did in highschool. 

“Don’t interfere with the hunt, Welp!” Skulker shouted as Danny ignored him and flew closer, dodging the spray of ecto-bullets before stopping right in front of the ghost.

He flatly stated, “Get souped.”

Danny pulled out the Fenton Thermos™ and uncapped it. With the cup attachment, it looked like an ordinary thermos with metallic mostly silver details and some green accents, but without the cup, it resembled more of a blaster without a trigger. Danny hit the button, activating the blue pulsating beam that sucked Skulker inside. The ghost protested, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

“How the hell did you— Is that a fucking thermos?” Red Hood asked incredulously as Danny put the cap back on. 

“As much as I'd like to answer all your questions, I also really don’t want to do that.” Danny stated, before tearing open a portal to the ghost zone and throwing himself through. He closed it behind him before the vigilante or his bullets could reach him.

Jason clutched his wound that was still bleeding. The cut was shallow, but it stung like a bitch.

“What the fuck?” he wondered aloud.

Oracle’s voice filtered in through his helmet, “Hood? Your comm was down. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah. I’m peachy,” Jason replied, rolling his eyes as he made his way to Tim’s safehouse. Hopefully the bird wasn’t in the nest, because he really didn’t need any more nagging or an in depth interrogation. Tim really had the worst of Batman's obsessive tendencies when it came to shit like this.

“Hood?” Bruce cut in, because of course he was in his stupid worried tone that made him feel guilty as hell because he wasn’t explaining shit. 

“I’m fine, B.”

The glowing green essence of the ghost zone surrounded him as Danny looked around. He was pretty close to Skulker’s haunt. He did a little fist pump to celebrate how accurate his portals were becoming in the zone. On earth it was easy as long as he’d already been there before, but in the infinite realms, with everything always shifting around, things were harder to pin down. 

Danny sighed as he felt the day’s exhaustion seeping into his form. He yawned. “I was so close to going to bed. Just my luck. Skulker would try to hunt one of the Bats. Or is he just a Bat-ally-enemy off and on thing? Whatever. Not my problem,” Danny muttered to himself. 

Except it was his problem. He needed sleep if he actually wanted to graduate and become an astronaut. If he stood a chance at applying to NASA he’d need to have a master's degree in a STEM, so he was aiming for an engineering degree. 

Luckily Gotham University was willing to take him when he got his SAT scores high enough to overshadow his average GPA that he barely managed to graduate with in high school. 

He landed in Skulker’s haunt, pointing the thermos at the ground before uncapping it and releasing the hunter. A few smaller animal-like ghosts flew out as well. Oops. Sam or Tucker must have nabbed them at some point. Well, at least they were free now.

“I’d forgotten how unpleasant it is to be in there,” Skulker remarked, dusting his shoulder off.

“Skulker, I thought we had an agreement? No hunting the living. The dead are free real estate, but the living are off limits. I know you had fun hunting me and Val back in the day, but I’m King now, so you do kinda have to follow my rules here.” Danny gestured to his crown. He hadn’t even wanted the thing, but it was supposed to come with a little authority!

The hunter raised an eyebrow. “What? I didn’t break any rule,” he insisted. “He’s not fully alive anymore! He’s not a ghost nor a zombie. Not really sure what he is, but a rare creature like that would make a fine addition to my collection! One of a kind, unlike you halfas. You’re rare, but there are three of you. I’ll use his skull as a doorstop and hang his pelt on my wall!”

“Wow, I thought that was reserved for me,” Danny joked before shaking his head. “Wait, back up. What do you mean he’s not fully alive anymore? If you're counting someone that like, drowned and was resuscitated as ‘not fully alive,’ then I’m going to have to expand that decree.”

“Oh, he died. Don’t know how, but couldn’t you feel it too. The binoculars on my suit allow me to see that dormant core in his chest. It’s coated in some rancid ectoplasm. That’s how I know he’s the right target.”

“I thought that was just your stink all over him.”

“How dare—” Skulker stopped mid-exclamation to smell himself. He grimaced. His shoulder opened up, instead of a rocket, an aerosol can appeared and he sprayed himself. He gave his mech suit another sniff before declaring, “Ah, much better. Now where was I?”

“Getting to the point, I hope,” Danny muttered. 

“For a king, you lack patience,” Skulker of all people chided.

“Yeah, I’m sure Pariah Dark was way better than me in that regard.”

“Touche,” Skulker amended. “But my prey is one of a kind, strong, cunning, fast, the perfect combination for a hunt worthy of my testing skills!” 

“If you were that bored you could have just asked,” Danny retorted, pointing his finger at Skulker and blasting him with a green beam.

He understood Skulker. A good fight was hard to come by when everyone’s powers were at different levels. His got a big boost as he grew older, and an even bigger one when he took up the crown and ring. He was faster, stronger, and just what Skulker wanted, a good chase, a challenging hunt. 

Danny dodged missiles, blades, destroyed Skulker’s nets, and as they were duking it out, he released a wail. It was supposed to be a small blast, but Danny had a Calculus test and Technical Writing paper looming all around the corner, and the stress leaked out. The ground beneath them cracked, shattering into chunks of rock that then broke apart until there were barely pebble’s left. 

He destroyed half of Skulker’s haunt. 

The hunter whistled. “Well that’s going to need some remodeling,” he remarked.

“Sorry,” Danny said as Skulker blasted him with a ray gun that popped up from his shoulder. “Gah! Really?” he whined, launching an ecto-energy ball at the hunter’s head. “Why do I even bother feeling bad for you?”

“It’s a haunt, ghost boy. I’ll reconstruct it to be even more deadly!” Skulker stated. “Now battle me!”

They went back and forth for what felt like hours, but time moved differently in the zone. Danny was finishing tearing Skulker’s suit to bits until only his tiny, green blob form remained when he realized he couldn’t go to bed yet. 

“Oh no, now I’m gonna have to hunt Red Hood, aren’t I? If he’s got a messed up core, I’ll need to help him sort that out. How do you even fix a broken core oozing rancid ectoplasm? I need to go see Frostbite” Danny rambled to himself as he flew through the zone, leaving Skulker with a broken suit and half-decemated haunt. 

Served him right for picking his fight so late at night. He should have fought him in the middle of the day like they used to back in Amity. But no. Had to ruin his already tenuous sleep schedule.

Chapter Text

Jason spent the last two days going through every resource he had for information on a cyborg hunter calling himself Skulker and the other white-haired twink, but there was fucking nothing . It was like they popped into existence just to fuck with him that night and disappear. If there weren’t knives still embedded in the walls of the dock house and stitches in his side, he’d think he dreamed the whole thing. 

He grimaced as he pulled out his phone, briefly scrolling through his contacts before giving the old man a call. 

“Jay?” Bruce asked like wasn’t sure if the call was on purpose or a butt dial, which was completely unfair. He called. Sometimes. The days just got away from him, and they saw each other once a month for family dinner. He even went like every other week when he wasn’t busy. Now, he was busy! Not his fault random shit happened to him all the fucking time. Bruce wasn’t even always on-planet anymore.

He skipped the hellos and went straight to the point, “I need you to give me access to the Justice League's database.”

There was a pause, and even if it was one word, the tone was no longer Bruce. It was Batman. “Why?” It was funny how that gruff tone made some guys shit themselves. Jason just rolled his eyes. 

“I want to see if they have anything on two new rogues. I’m getting dead ends on my side, but one of them seemed established. Might be from out of town.”

“Who are these rogues? Have you encountered them already? Why wasn’t this reported to me when it happened? How much damage have they caused? Are they working together or separately?” The overprotective bat listed off question after question rapid-fire without giving Jason a chance to actually answer any of them, not like he planned on it anyway, but still. 

Jason sighed, rubbing his temples as a headache was starting to form. “B, don’t make me ask Tim.”

There was silence on the other end for a blissful moment. When he spoke again, it wasn’t Batman, it was Bruce, speaking gently like Jason was a stray cat that he didn’t want to spook. “Promise me you’ll keep me updated?” Not a command, a plea. 

Fucking guilt trips. 

“Yeah, I can do that,” he promised.

“Thanks, Jaylad. Call me if you need anything else.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason agreed before hanging up. He rolled his eyes. Like the old man wasn’t going to check which profiles he was looking at. 

His laptop screen lit up with the bat logo before the entire Justice League servers were at his disposal. He cracked his knuckles. This was going to be tedious as fuck.

The giant floating glacier that made up the Realm of the Far Frozen was starting to come into view. The blue tinted ice stood in stark contrast to the swirling green of the ghost zone and the random purple doors that floated around. He flew past the snow-covered ground, scanning the area until he saw a few of the yeti-like ghosts. Frostbite was usually somewhere nearby. 

He did a loop around their town before he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

“Great One! It is good to see you!” Frostbite greeted before Danny actually saw him. The burly ghost was in the middle of polishing the golden armband on his right arm. His white fur helped the color pop. It paired well with his gold belt adorned with a blue gem that held up a blue loincloth, and a big blue cape around his shoulders held by a gold charm. There was no armband or any other accessory on his left arm. Maybe it felt weird since his left was a skeletal arm covered in ice. But, that arm did match the pair of frozen horns that lay atop his head, along with a pair of ice pikes on his tail. After being in Gotham, Danny couldn’t help but think that tail was similar to Killer Croc’s.

“Nice to see you too,” Danny greeted. They spoke together just the other day about a science project he was working on, but time moved differently in the zone, so it could have been a lot longer for Frostbite than Danny. “I’m actually here for some advice.”

Frostbite straightened up. “How might I be of service to you, Great One?”

“Have you ever seen someone with a core that’s like, turned off? And it’s oozing rancid ectoplasm?” He asked as he landed next to the giant ghost. 

“When one’s core breaks, their form is lost. Any would surely perish.” Frostbite rested a large paw on Danny’s shoulder. “I am sorry if my answer is not to your liking.”

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I just met a guy with that problem.”

“That should be impossible,” Frostbite murmured. “However, I have heard of rotten ectoplasm that lurks on the surface.”

“Would those be in the map you gave me?” Danny asked. He ordered Vlad to hand it over, and the fruit loop couldn’t say no to his king’s demands. Good times.

“As you well know, the Ghost Zone is constantly shifting. Entrances appear in many different periods, most only remaining open for a short time before closing forever. However, there are other portals. Ones that were once natural, but were since corrupted in one way or another, leaving behind only a rancid pool of rotten ectoplasm. Those portals still function, allowing ghosts to leave, but due to the corruption, they can’t gain access to the realms. For that reason, the map no longer shows them as they do not properly function anymore,” Frostbite explained. “That, and it’s rather unpleasant to be near the portals let alone use them.”

“What’s unpleasant about it?”

“It radiates an energy that penetrates our very cores. A feeling of something crawling under your skin, so to speak. Like mold on bread, it is as though we make ourselves unclean stepping near let alone through it. One would need be truly desperate to use such a portal.”

Jason wrinkled his nose, scowling at the screen before him. He’d searched through every file. No names, no photos, no reports, he got absolutely nothing from the Justice League’s data. Not even when he managed to worm his way into the Justice League Dark files. Skulker didn’t even make a blip, and he didn’t have a name for the other twink’s face. Going on their abilities and the way Skulker spoke about him, there was a chance they were demons, ghouls, or ghosts. Justice League Dark didn’t really go into much detail on what the big differences were. Probably because those members already knew it by heart and would be wasting their time typing it when a regular league member would just ask them to explain it all again. 

Or they were just normal metas. One with a fucking thermos that could trap people like Superman sending someone to the Phantom Zone. Bruce would definitely want to know about that. He’d write a report later. This was still his business. Skulker knew something about his resurrection. That wasn’t common knowledge, so he couldn’t be some random rogue with a mech suit. But Jason did not fucking know the guy. How did he get that information? Why was there nothing on the bastard? 

Jason grit his teeth, fighting back the rage as his eyes flashed green. Getting angry wasn’t going to get him any closer to finding answers. “Goddammit.” 

He called Tim.

“Daniel, you’ve arrived as expected.”

“I’ve been here the whole time. You’re the one that just got here,” Danny argued as the tiny violet-cloaked ghost with an almost impish pale blue baby face and a scar across his left eye like a knock-off Harry Potter. It was hard to take the ancient ghost seriously when he showed up in his child form instead of the adult or even elderly version of himself. It was easy to tell it was still him since he always had the clock-like mechanism embedded in his chest and carried his time staff. 

Clockwork ignored him, as he usually did, and floated between him and Frostbite. “You were discussing the rotten ectoplasm, yes?” Clockwork asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “They’ve been called a lot of things over the course of history and ever changing timelines, but mortals are now calling them Lazarus Pits.”

“Wait, if living people have a name for it, then they’re going near these things?!” Danny asked, not shrieked. He may have raised his voice a little, but only a perfectly reasonable amount given the situation.

“Yes. Strangely enough, while pure ectoplasm only helps to heal ghosts, corrupted ectoplasm heals the living so long as they are near death.”

Danny squinted his eyes at the ancient ghost, hesitating to ask, “So… they’re a good thing? I feel like there’s a ‘but—’ missing.” 

“If a mortal is healthy and they fall in then they will perish,” Clockwork stated. 

“And there’s the but.” Danny grimaced. 

“Pariah Dark had no interest in cleaning them up as there was no foreseeable way to purify the ectoplasm and he struck a deal with the one human who used these pools to extend his life. Ra's al Ghul is a centuries old assassin who formed the ‘Demon’s Head.’ Of those he’s killed, not all ended up in the zone, but there have been a few, adding to the servants of Pariah Dark. Thus, they had a somewhat beneficial relationship.”

“An assassin is controlling the pits? I can’t let that happen!” Danny exclaimed, clawing his fingers through his hair. He already had tests and papers; he didn’t need assassins added to the list of things he needed to get done. He checked one thing off and five more were added. He’d rather fight a hydra. 

“Of course not, but one task at a time, my king.” Clockwork replied. “Your first concern is the shattered core currently being plagued by rotten ectoplasm.”

“How did the Red Hood get a core from diving into one of those pits?”

“He didn’t. He got his core when died.”

Danny paused, processing all the information he’d been given before replying, “I thought you said the pits don’t work on the dead.”

“He was alive when he was pushed into the lazarus pit, partially, at least,” Clockwork explained. “When Red Hood died, he didn’t die in Gotham, but city spirit still felt his loss and his body was buried in her soil. It was around the time the realms were in chaos due to Pariah Dark’s return that Lady Gotham searched for the lost soul, finding his core before it could fully form and returning it to his mortal body.” 

“That worked?!” Danny exclaimed.

“Yes, and no.” Clockwork looked off into the distance. The dramatic bastard. “He was back, but not all the way. His core couldn’t stay in his human body, because unlike you, his DNA wasn’t blended with ectoplasm. His core cracked and decayed. Some of the humans who lay claim to the lazarus pits took him from Lady Gotham and dropped him into the pit, which healed his mortal form and filled the cracks in his core. Unfortunately, corrupted ectoplasm also induces fits of rages, madness, and loss of self. It is temporary, but constant so long as the ectoplasm remains in their system. It has binded itself to his core, holding the shattered pieces together like glue. He continually suffers from this, though he now is better at controlling it.” 

That was… a lot. Suddenly being electrocuted twice and becoming a halfa seemed like it was barely traumatic. “How do we fix his core?”

“You can’t. It was broken as soon as it entered his mortal form again, but the shards will remain inside once the remainder of ‘the pit’ leaves his system.”

If it didn’t heal, but stayed in his system, then he’d probably be more ghostly than a liminal but likely have similar powers. Maybe. Danny didn’t really have anything to base it off of. “Do you have any sprays for that like a mold-be-gone for ghosts?” Danny asked.

Clockwork smirked as he shook his head. “No, I'm afraid you’ll need to remove it from his core yourself.” 

“You know I’m not a surgeon, right? How am I supposed to do that?”

“I’m well aware of your occupation or lack thereof, Daniel,” Clockwork remarked. “Frostbite, would you care to shed some light on the matter?”

“Though not much is known, it does seem that pure ectoplasm repels the corrupted ectoplasm to a certain extent. It does not like being near us as much as we do not like being near it,” Frostbite explained.

“Almost like magnets of the same type. Positive repels positive, except this time opposites don’t attract.”

“A good comparison, Great One!” Frostbite said, and while unintentional it did sound a little condescending. “You must phase through his mortal body, take the core in your hands and the ectoplasm that makes up our very forms will push the negative ectoplasm out.”

“Then what? I’ll still have that gross stuff around and I can’t get rid of the pits if it can’t be purified.”

“You have a construct that can trap ectoplasm inside, do you not?”

“So I soup it and then what? I can’t keep it in the thermos forever.” Unless?

“Unfortunately, research was never done to remedy what was damaged. However, you know someone who is capable of creating such a cure,” Clockwork stated.

“Who? —Ugh. Fine.” Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll bottle it up and chuck it through a portal. As much as I don’t want to ask, my parents would probably be our best bet at researching how to purify this stuff if ghosts don’t want to be near it. I’ll write a note and send it to their lab.” 

They’ll probably be ecstatic and want to talk about it until his ears fall off. He didn’t realize just how manic his home life had been until he moved out. Danny knew his parents were crazy, always had, but things not exploding every five minutes and food that doesn’t try to attack you as soon as you open the fridge? Living with his friends really opened his eyes to peace and quiet. An hour plus long rambling conversation about ectoplasm was not on his agenda and it would stay that way if he had any say in the matter. 

Clockwork didn’t verbally agree or disagree with him, but the smile he wore told Danny that it was the ‘right action to take for the timeline.’ It’d be nice if Clockwork could just tell him what to do.

“So, how am I going to get him to let me touch his core? Should I try to convince him to let me help?” Danny asked. But even if he did agree, what if he freaked out mid-way through and his core reacted badly. “Or overshadow him and just do it myself?” At least then he could get treated; however that was supposed to work, and it would be a quick in and out. And if something went really wrong he could fly him back to Frostbite without worrying about the guy putting up a fight.

“You should only overshadow him if his core is in danger of bursting,” Clockwork supplied. A yes or no would have been preferred. 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “In danger of what? It’s already broken and full of rotten ectoplasm.”

“Every fit of ‘Pit-madness’ as they call it threatens to cause his core to explode as the ectoplasm heats up. Though the shards can live inside his form, if it were to burst, the rotten ectoplasm would spread through his body like a virus and consume him in destructive madness that he would never fully recover from.”

“So he’s going to go pit-mad when I tell him everything and I have to overshadow him anyway.”

“That is one of the various paths on the timeline.”

Danny sighed. “And knowing my luck that’s the one I’ll get.” He resigned himself to his fate and portaled back into his room. His notebooks were laid out across his desk instead of tucked into his backpack. There was a sticky note attached to one of them. 

“Clockwork asked me to fill in while you were away —Amorpho”

“How long have I been gone?” Danny wondered aloud.

“Two days,” Tucker replied as he shut the fridge door and grabbed a spoon for his liver pate. “That shape-shifter ghost in the trenchcoat filled in for you. He took notes for you but drew the line at doing your homework, so you're on your own there. Sam and I knew it wasn’t you the moment we saw him. You haven’t looked that well rested in months .”

Danny glowered at him. “Thanks, Tuck.”

“Anytime, man!” he chirped. 

“Snow white hair, glowing green eyes, blue-flaming ice crown, space cape, black and white costume, “D” across his chest… is that everything?” Tim asked. 

“Yeah,” Jason said, letting himself fall backwards onto his couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Didn’t say his name, and Skulker just called him welp, so the description ’s all I have to go on.”

He could hear the clicking of Tim’s keyboard as the teen furiously typed away at the batcomputer. It became white noise filling the background as Jason let his eyes shut.  

Jason didn’t know how much time had passed, but Tim’s voice stopped him before he could fall asleep. “Well, I haven't found much on the two rogues, but there is a patent for a Fenton Thermos by Dr. Jack Fenton and Dr. Madeline Fenton. They claim it is harmless to humans but can capture and contain ghosts.” 

“What’s it look like?”

“I’ll just forward you a picture.”

His phone beeped instantly. Jason stared at the metallic mostly silver details and some green accents on what otherwise looked like a normal thermos. “Motherfucker, that’s it! So they were ghosts?” That’s just great. Bruce was going to have a field day with this one.

“I mean, it sounds like Skulker was if he got sucked into the device. That or the Fentons didn’t account for metas when they constructed the device. Either way, it’s hard to say for the other guy. You didn’t see him go into the thermos.”

“No, but they gave off the same energy. It’s hard to describe.” 

“It’s strange that the thermos was in Gotham. The Fentons are from Illinois. Specifically located in Amity Park, known for its paranormal ghost activity. The town has flown under everyone’s radar because it sounds as believable as any tourist trap ghost town. Given your encounter, I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Thanks, Timbers,” Jason replied. 

“Just remember you have to run interference the next time someone tries to give me decaf,” he stated. “Including Alfred.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep your coffee flowing,” he promised.

“Lady Gotham, take me to your boy!” Danny called out. When the city spirit ignored him, Danny added, “I figured out how to fix him.”

There was a tug on his core as Danny was yanked out the side of his building. He was quick to turn himself invisible before anyone could see him. Though it was dark out. Red Hood was probably patrolling his haunt. Crime Alley wasn’t that big, so he probably could have found the guy on his own, but it was much easier with a guide. Despite his invisibility, the city spirit had no issues keeping a firm grip on him as she dragged him along. He could easily break away from her pull, and accidentally did a few times he got distracted like seeing Batman and Robin taking down some muggers as he flew by, which in fairness to him, was very cool and very distracting. He could feel Lady Gotham’s patience thinning as she nagged at him to keep moving forward. 

They ended up outside of Crime Alley and back at the docks. Specifically in the same warehouse that Skulker had trashed. Red Hood was looking around at the damage. He, or someone else, took the blades out of the walls, but there were plenty of holes and cracks left in Skulker’s wake. 

“Uh, we meet again?” Danny greeted, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t particularly like the way a gun was immediately pointed at him, but it was just a regular gun, so it couldn’t do anything to him. 

“I thought you didn’t want to answer my questions,” Red Hood quipped.

“Yeah, that was before I found out you were technically one of my responsibilities.”

“The fuck does that mean?” There was heat behind those words. Just found the guy and already ticked him off. Just his luck.

“I’m High King Phantom, helping the dead or used-to-be-dead is kind of my responsibility. You’re not exactly in your afterlife anymore, but that’s also part of what I need to help you with.”

“You came here to kill me.” Red Hood kept his gun pointed at Danny. “Return me to my afterlife.”

“What? No! If anything I came here to make you less dead than you already are. Though in fairness, you’re mostly not-dead already. Your core is dormant, since you’re not a ghost, but it’s still there, and it’s broken and infected by some nasty rotten ectoplasm. Clockwork said you guys call them Laz-something pits? I can fix it!” He was pretty sure he could fix it. 90%. Maybe even 95%. 

Mostly not-dead was still fucking dead. 

Jason felt his eyes turn green. He grit his teeth. It felt like venom running through his veins, bubbling just under his skin like lava looking for a way to erupt. His breathing was ragged as he tried to force it down even as it was choking him, making him pull the trigger. 

The bullets went through the guy, embedding themselves into the wall. Jason growled, lunging forward to kick him, and it was like kicking a cold breeze. The chill soaked through his clothes straight to his bones. In a weird way, the rage calmed itself. He got ahold of himself again. 

“What the fuck are you, and what the fuck am I?” He asked, voice dipping low as another rage threatened to take over. 

It was weird as fuck having the air around him freeze, but not like Mr. Freeze turning half of Gotham into an oversized ice rink kind of way. It was cold, but he didn’t feel the urge to pull his jacket any tighter. His teeth didn’t chatter. It was comfortable. Weirdly fucking comfortable. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason asked, this time with less heat behind his words. Not for lack of trying, which was far more concerning.

Danny couldn’t see the Red Hood’s face, but he could feel his core flare up at the mention of the pits. Touchy subject. Oops. Lady Gotham was practically fuming as she wrapped herself tightly around Jason, trying to reassure him, SAFE, SAFE, SAFE. 

“I’m not trying to start a fight with you,” Danny said as some of the rancid ectoplasm fell off his torso. It was gross. Like sticking his hand into something slimy and fuzzy with chunks in it. The hairs on his body stood up. He wanted to get as far away from that stuff as possible, but he couldn’t just leave Red Hood like that. At least he had an idea of how to get it out of him now.

Danny pulled the thermos out of his chest and uncapped it to suck it up. “That stuff just came out of you when you phased through me. Its rotten ectoplasm. I’m pure ectoplasm, and in this case, opposites don’t attract. If you’re willing to let me help you, I can use my ectoplasm to push the corrupted stuff out of your core.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Why should I believe a goddamn word you have to say? Calling pit juice ‘ectoplasm’ doesn’t change anything! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

“I think Clockwork could have prepared me to talk to you about this more,” Danny grumbled under his breath. “Listen, I’m literally a spirit of protection. That’s my Ghostly Obsession. The whole Infinite Realms and every denison of it are under my protection, and even though you moved out, you’re still someone I’m supposed to protect. That’s what my core tells me to do. I’m guessing the way you protect your haunt, you have a similar Obsession.”

“You’re not selling this very well,” Hood retorted, and though his voice was still just as scary, the flare up of energy was dying down.

“Yeah, would you believe I don’t really do the whole speech thing? I’m better at back and forth witty banter, but that doesn’t really apply to our conversation given the circumstances.”

“I can, actually,” Red Hood retorted.

“Hey! You don’t have to agree with me. And I haven’t slept in two days. I’m not exactly at my best here!” Danny complained. 

“So you want to do something to the pit in my blood while you’re at your worst?”

“No—” Danny denied, but didn’t have much to defend himself with. “I’ve never had to do this before, okay? I’m sorry, I just— Clockwork made it seem like time was of the essence and I couldn’t take a nap before coming to see you. Your core is getting more and more damaged every time the ectoplasm in your core heats up. Please, just let me help you.”

Jason was not considering this. There was no way he was considering this. Why did the guy have to sound so earnest? It was like the guy didn’t even know how to lie, at least not well. “What would this help look like?” Why did he even ask that? He was not, under any circumstances, letting the guy touch him. 

“Well, you saw your kick pushed some of that stuff out of you? I think if I phase through you, we can get it all out.”

“You think?”

“It worked a little bit!” Phantom threw his arms up and let out a huff. 

Jason punched him. Just like before, it went right through the guy’s body. More of the green was ripped out of him. It fell to the ground, still bubbling. Jason grimaced under his helmet. He felt lighter, less murder-y, and disgusted by the pile of Lazarus pit that this High King Phantom was sucking into his thermos. 

“If it makes you feel better, I guess trying to hit me also works,” the guy offered. 

It did. 

Jason punched, kicked, and headbutted the guy. Each swing felt like a miss, but more and more of the pit left his system. His breathing was ragged by the time his mind felt clear. Clearer than it had in a fucking long time. It was difficult to even remember life before the pit, and now, it was like a dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. The rug was going to be pulled out from under his feet and the pit was going to be right there, tormenting him when he finally got it somewhat under control.

“That wasn’t so bad!” 

Jason was reminded that he wasn’t alone. He straightened up, eyeing the ghost as the guy put the cap back on his thermos. 

“You’re really bad at your job,” Jason remarked. He wanted to see how the king would react. He seemed young, but the robins were young, and that didn’t mean they should be underestimated. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Hey, I’m not as bad as the last king! And this was more productive than spending hours chasing the box ghost around in circles,” Danny quipped. “And as for this gross stuff, I’m gonna—”

“BEWARE!”

And speak of the devil. 

The short, somewhat round man with blue skin and short black hair appeared clad in his gray overalls, a gray beanie, light gray gloves, a light gray undershirt, and dark gray shoes. The box ghost yelled, “I am the Box Ghost! I control all things square and cubical!”

As annoying as he was, the guy really didn’t deserve to get souped into nasty ectoplasm, and he didn’t want the box ghost getting sent to his parents. Danny watched the blue man levitate a few crates and fly off into the distance.

“You aren’t going to do something about that?” Red Hood asked. 

“...He’s harmless.”

Red Hood was quiet for a long time before he finally said, “That’s your version of the Condiment King.”

“What?” Danny asked but the Red Hood did not explain.

The vigilante crime lord shot out his grappling hook and started running away. Danny flew after him. “No, you don’t just get to leave! I read up on Gotham villains before coming here, and I don’t remember that one. You’re messing with me! Is there a Hamburgler too?”

“As much as I'd like to answer all your questions, I also really don’t want to do that,” Red Hood replied, and yeah Danny did deserve that. 

“That’s so not fair! I have school stuff! You probably just have vigilante things to worry about. I can’t explain ghosts to everyone who asks me!” Danny whined. 

Lady Gotham was laughing at him as she helped to hide Red Hood in her shadows. He flew behind them but he didn’t know Gotham like he knew Amity. They were gone, and as many questions as he had, Danny was ready for bed. He portaled himself back into his room, hastily scribbled sticky note onto the thermos and chucked it through another portal into his parents' lab. For good measure, he reached through to grab another empty thermos. Always better to have a backup. Then he promptly collapsed into bed. Lady Gotham was kind enough to use her shadows to darken his room, making it so much easier to fall asleep. 

Jason tapped his comm. "Hey, B? I have an update."

Chapter Text

He had a Technical Writing assignment: create an instruction manual for making a sandwich. That one wasn’t terrible. He’d need to make it very clear what the steps were or his professor would say something silly like “How do I know not to put peanut butter on the table instead of the bread?” Danny made a labeled list including slices ‘a’ and ‘b’ of bread to discern how to correctly assemble everything. 

“Why would you even make a sandwich without meat in it?” Tucker chided, shaking his head as he peered over Danny’s shoulder. “Where’s the substance? The protein ?” 

“In the peanut butter,” Sam retorted. “Not everything needs meat in it.” She signified her stance by taking a large bite of her sweet potato and cauliflower sandwich. The bread was from some vegan bakery in the nicer part of Gotham that made stuff from "only the finest, most humanely sourced farms" or wherever. Which was fine and all, but one loaf probably cost thirty bucks. Sam seemed to like it though, and she had to spend her parents' money somehow.

Tucker shuddered. “A meal without meat? I might as well starve,” he said, crossing the room so he could flop dramatically on the couch. 

Sam rolled her eyes. “So, Danny,” she said, ignoring Tucker’s antics, “Are you excited for the farmer’s market this weekend?” 

“Does Gotham have farmers?” Danny wondered aloud as he finished saving his assignment and navigated through his college’s canvas page to upload and turn it in.

“That’s not the point. People drive from out of town to set up shops at these kinds of things. You can find some great produce and other crafts. AND there’s going to be a few food trucks, including the Veganicle, and you promised to try the wheatgrass green drink the next time we went.”

“I didn’t promise, I lost a bet,” Danny clarified.

“Same difference. You’re drinking the smoothie,” Sam said, rolling her eyes. 

“Veganicle?” Tucker uttered, nose wrinkled in disdain. 

“Vegan Vehicle would be stupid,” Sam defended.

“Yeah, unlike Veganicle,” Danny said. “The very smart, not dumb at all name.”

Sam threw the pillow from the barstool next to her at Danny’s head. He made himself and his laptop intangible. It harmlessly passed through him and hit the wall. 

There was a quick prick of pain in his wrist as the thin, cold metal slipped under his skin. Alfred was very careful to get only what they needed for the fifth sample and he always hit the vein on the first try. Which was preferred because Jason was getting really tired of being poked and prodded.

Bruce took the sample and ran it through their systems yet again. The analysis was the exact same as all the other times, but in this family, they had to check, recheck, and keep going before they were finally convinced.

Tim sat at the batcomputer monitor, comparing the tests, all the tests he’s ever taken from both before and after coming back. “There don't appear to be any traces of the Lazarus Pit left in his blood. There are minute traces of something, but it doesn't match any of the previous samples of Lazarus water or Jason's blood.” 

“He called it ectoplasm. Both what’s left and what was in there before. Pit water was rotten ectoplasm but his was pure.” Jason said as he looked at the analysis. Did parts of Phantom get left inside him or was that his own core, broken but still there?

Meanwhile, Bruce looked like he was sucking on a lemon, or more accurately, he looked like a kid gave him the shittiest cup of lemonade and he had to pretend to be fine while he drank it.

Jason sighed. “I know you’re in your own head about this, but I feel fine, normal .” That was the understatement of the century. When was the last time he could swing through Gotham without the Pit lurking beneath his skin, threatening to flare up over the most minor thing? When was the last time he could breathe without an uncomfortable heat in his lungs? If he were honest, there was still some warmth there that hadn’t been there before he died, but it didn’t hurt, or make him want to spill blood. It was just a little extra warmth that wasn’t there before, in a way that was almost comforting. Bruce didn’t need to know that because he’d spend the next three months worrying about it. 

“The Fenton's have actually mentioned ectoplasm quite a bit in the papers they've published. They seem to have a way to manufacture it artificially and use it as an energy source. If I can get a sample, we can compare that to Jason’s bloodwork.”

“Weird,” Steph commented, hopping down from her perched position. “Is Jason, like, a battery now?”

“If I see your phone near me, I'm throwing it,” Jason promised. 

“He's not a battery. His levels are too low.” Tim replied, as if her remark needed a serious answer. “They have some schematics available in their papers and patents, but I think there are elements missing that would make everything functional.”

“Are we going to do a little B and E?” Steph asked, all too giddy. 

“Do you want to go to Illinois?” Tim retorted.

Steph paused, shifting her weight to one foot. “Is there anything to do there?”

“Research ghosts, apparently,” Jason snarked.

“They sell their technology on their Etsy shop. I already purchased a few items with expedited shipping,” Tim stated. “If we need more information after I go through those, we can break into their personal lab.”

“ On Etsy? ” Steph and Jason asked in tandem. 

“The site allows weaponry to be sold for hunting purposes. It only prohibits instruments intended to be used as weapons to inflict harm, like explosives or poisons. But, the Fentons claim that their weaponry can’t hurt the living and is only effective against ghosts,” Tim explained. 

“Ghosts like the High King Phantom?” Bruce, Batman , questioned. 

While Tim and B. dove headfirst into their own conversation about their precautionary plan to take down the High King should he become a threat, Steph sidled up to Jason and jabbed her finger into his side, effectively getting his attention and ire. “What do you think that guy’s doing now that you're all fixed? Maybe he’s still in Gotham.”

“Doubt it. He can make portals, remember? He’s probably long gone. Off doing king shit,” Jason dismissed. 

“You don’t think he’s going to check up on his least loyal subject?” She teased. It was obvious she was worried, but she masked it well. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was just being obnoxious. 

That King blew him off before he knew he was dead, still dead, alive but dead, which shouldn’t be so fucking terrifying when he literally woke up in his own grave. Of course, he was still dead. That was how every zombie movie started. Mr. High King still hadn’t really explained anything to him. Now that he wasn’t a walking bomb, he was back down his majesty’s priority list. “I think he’s got more important things than to come and find little old me.”

“So, what formula am I supposed to use here?” Danny asked. Calculator in hand, Danny started to punch in numbers. He was pretty sure he knew what he was doing, but at the same time, his mind was starting to go numb. The pressure that tests brought was not well conducive to doing math. 

Poindexter pushed his glasses up his nose, huffing a sigh as he explained once again, “We’re working on the taylor series formula, f(x)=f(a)f′(a)1! (x−a)+fp(a)2!” He was floating over Danny’s shoulder, gaze flicking between the questions on the screen and Danny’s scratch paper. 

It was Danny’s turn to sigh as he rubbed his temple, urging his migraine to go away. “Why do I need to know this?” he bemoaned. 

“The formula is used to approximate a function using an infinite sum. It’s a tool that represents a complex function as a polynomial which is easier to work with, especially for calculations and analysis near that point. The more terms you include, the better the approximation becomes. You’re going to use it if you become an engineer.”

“My head hurts,” Danny complained. Why was being an astronaut so hard? He’d already landed a rocket when he was fourteen. Why did he need to know how to do theoretical math? Algebra, sure, but Calculus?

“Stop being lazy. You’ve already done five equations like this, and you got three of them correct.”

“Yeah, but I have fifteen left and I’m losing the will to go on—” Danny huffed, dramatically letting his head fall on his desk.

“Be happy they’re letting you take this test online and that I’m here to help you. Now keep going! You’ve only got an hour left before it auto-submits your test.”

“Noooooo,” Danny whined. 

The cave was humid, water dripping from the stalactites as bats flew around in the distance. Bruce dawned his cape and cowl, heading down towards the batcomputer. “Tim, it’s time. I’m not telling you to go to sleep, but you have to go somewhere else while I’m in my meeting.”

“Can’t they just teleport you to them?” Tim suggested, still typing away as he navigated the Fenton’s security system. It was… weird to say the least. One firewall had animations of real fire coming out of it like it was a video game. The layers were just unlocking more hurdles and hoops he had to jump through. Bruce was happy to pass the torch and let his son take care of it, but it could wait.

“Go,” Bruce replied, “Alfred’s making cookies. I’m sure you don’t want to be late for that.” 

Tim was up and out of the chair before he could actually finish talking. Bruce let a small smile tug at his lips as he watched his son race up the stairs. He’d have to thank Alfred for making his bribe. Just in time too as the air grew frigid. Fog began to pour out of the air until a portal opened up and two magicians stepped out from it.

“Zatanna, Constantine,” Batman greeted. 

“What's the problem now?” John asked, rubbing his temples to fend off a headache. “Tell me it's not another demon or cult”

Batman raised an eyebrow, letting the silence marinate for a few moments before stating, “No.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Constantine said.

“John,” Zatanna chided. “What did you call us for, Batman?”

“This involves the dead showing up in Gotham, a ghost, specifically the king of the dead—”

Zatanna gasped, bringing her hands up to her mouth. “Pariah Dark?! If he’s back, that could spell the end of the world—” her voice was steady, but there was a slight tremble in her hands as she spoke. 

“That sod hasn't been king for a few years now, Zatanna,” Constantine said with a roll of his eyes. He took out a cigarette, ignoring the glare from the Bat and lit it, breathing in a puff of smoke. “Stuck in that Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep and he’s not coming out any time soon.” Even if he did, the new kid would just shove him back in. Pariah Dark didn’t even have his ring and crown anymore to boost his power. It’d be over before it started.

She nodded. “Right, it would be impossible to break himself out of there. Batman, are you sure it was the High King of the Infinite Realms?” she asked.

“That was the title he identified himself with, but—”

“No ghost would dare use his title. I know he's been in eternal sleep but what if someone let him out—” Zatanna rambled. 

“Someone did,” Constantine replied, trying not to show his amusement as the other two heroes stiffened, “But, he’s back in it now, and not as king. He got out a few years ago, pulled some little, no-nothing town into the Infinite Realms, and got his arse handed to him by some new ghost called Phantom who haunted that town. Once he was old enough, the realms made Phantom their new king.”

It was a lot, John knew that and gave the heroes a few minutes to process the information. Zatanna didn’t interact with the other side as much as he did, though he was surprised she didn’t know anything about the new crowning. Then again, Phantom didn’t exactly go around advertising his status. No cities were plundered or ‘new citizens of the realms’ taken. He was just a powerhouse with no strong will to rule more than what was already on his plate, though that plate was already infinite and destined to be filled as the other side of the planes. With the cycle of life, death would surely follow. 

Phantom was also known to delegate tasks to the ghosts who ruled certain sections of the zone like Dukes, Counts, and Barons in the living world, so it wasn’t that much different from the old guy being locked up. Phantom wasn’t solely responsible for maintaining the Realms, just protecting it, or so his citizens claimed. It’d been a while since Constantine entered the Infinite Realms, and he had no strong desire to return. Curiosity be damned.

After a few minutes, Batman crossed his arms over his chest before speaking, “How did you obtain this information?”

“I'd like to know as well,” Zatanna agreed.

“Have you never spoken to a ghost before? They won’t shut up about him, even before he was king,” Constantine complained, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Every time I have to deal with one of those buggers haunting some place, they have to tell me about him. He’s about as respected as a ghost is capable of respecting anything.”

“So you’ve heard… good things?” Zatanna asked tentatively.

Constantine shrugged. “It’s not that they say good things. The twats spout out insults and degrade him, but that’s just their nature. It’s pretty obvious from how they say it, that they revere the guy.” They were so easy to read, it was almost sad. They put a lot of effort into appearances too.

“What issues do they have with him?” Batman questioned, assessing the threat level as he always did like the catastrophizer that he was.

It made sense. The Bat was more easily spooked than most realized. With Zatanna so concerned about Pariah Dark even before knowing he'd pulled an entire town into the infinite realms. How he’d managed to do that without the Justice League noticing was unnerving, even for Constantine. Those twats were supposed to keep an eye on all that shite. That being said, he'd probably have a harder time not trying to adopt the fucking High King if they met. Thank whatever god that the kid has snow-white hair and green eyes or he'd be just like all the others.

“They say he’s annoying, destructive, too young,” Constantine said, counting each grievance on a finger as he listed it. “And they’re not fans of the law that they’re not allowed to fight the living unless it’s in self-defense. Lot of whining from that.” They loved a good fight, but unless a meta threw the first punch, they couldn’t do shite. 

“Hnnn,” Batman said, narrowing his eyes. 

Zatanna was frowning, brow pinched as she asked, “He defeated Pariah Dark, but his subjects speak poorly of him and still live?” 

Constantine shrugged. “He’s the bringer of peace to the Infinite Realms,” he stated. “From what I’ve heard, a little name-calling isn’t going to ruffle his feathers. His skin ’s not that thin, and the bugger’s been through a lot worse.” Worse than any ghostling should have gone through. 

“So you believe he’s not a threat?” Batman pressed.

John sighed, taking a big puff of his cigarette, feeling the nicotine working his system. “He could destroy the entire world if he wanted to. From what I’ve gathered, he doesn’t want to. You decide if that makes him a threat or not,” Constantine dismissed, breathing in another cloud of smoke, and then blowing it out. “Are we done here?”

“No.” the other two stated in tandem. 

“We need to find a way to protect ourselves should he turn into the next Pariah Dark,” Zatanna stated. “He’s an incredibly powerful and dangerous being! Who knows what he’s capable of?”

Danny blinked slowly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up from his desk. There was half a sandwich stuck to his face. He peeled it off, sniffed it, and took a bite. “Still good,” he mumbled to himself. 

His paper was filled with the same letter repeated down twelve pages. Danny made a mental note to close his laptop the next time he felt like he might pass out while writing his assignments as he deleted the text. 

“Why study purple-back gorillas when there's a great ape in our shared space?” Sam wondered aloud as she typed away at her own research project. The breeding program was going successfully back home, and they were starting to send the babies out to other facilities. The main concern was how to avoid inbreeding as best they could. Sam already had a buddy at the zoo giving her information that she could use in her paper. 

“Great?” Tucker asked as he wandered out of his room. “Ape, sure, but great?”

“Ha, ha,” Danny said, rolling his eyes before taking another bite. “I'm avoiding food waste. And don't act like you wouldn't do the same, Tuck.”

“I would've finished my food before I fell asleep,” Tucker retorted.

“The amount of food wasted by an individual versus a corporation isn't comparable and you getting food poisoning would be worse than throwing that away. Besides, I started a compost bin,” Sam refuted.

“I don't get food poisoning that easily,” Danny argued, finishing the rest of his sandwich. “I might not be able to at all anymore. When was the last time I got sick?”

“At the fair three years ago when you puked on my shoes,” Tucker replied promptly. 

“I didn't throw up on your shoes. You stepped in it,” Danny corrected. “That was before I became High King.”

“It's possible the power boost increased your immune system,” Sam theorized, abandoning her paper to speculate, “Your DNA is mixed with ectoplasm. If it grew stronger when you put on the crown, it might affect your human half too.”

“We can't really test it without using my parents' lab, and I don't want to go there anytime soon. We finally get to be normal!”

Tucker and Sam both stared at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Normal-er,” Danny corrected. “The box ghost even put himself back into the zone once he was done getting his zoomies out of his system.”

“Bet your rogues would hate knowing you call their visits zoomies,” Tucker remarked.

Danny crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. “They come here, run around, go home. Zoomies.”

Tucker settled into the couch, reaching for the remote. “Can I borrow one of your notebooks? I need some paper to sketch out a few designs for my robotics class,” he requested.

“Sure,” Danny said, reaching for his backpack which wasn't by his chair, or on his desk, and after running around his room, not there either. “I think I left it in a wall somewhere on campus,” he said, scratching his head. “Maybe at the library. I was planning on going back there later…”

“Only you, Danny,” Sam chided.

“You could just portal there and back,” Tucker suggested.

“Eh, I'm up for a walk,” Danny replied, tearing open a portal. “Back that is. I wanted to get some more snacks anyway.”

“Ooo, get me a bag of those meat gummies!” Tucker requested.

“And organic, non-GMO carrot sticks with ‘natural ingredients only’ ranch” Sam added.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll get your stuff,” Danny agreed, checking to see that the other side was empty before throwing himself through the portal. He stood in a bathroom stall, letting himself out and into the library. The lights were still on so at least they hadn’t closed yet. “Lady Gotham, I don't suppose you know where my bag is?” No response. Her presence felt thin in this area, so he didn't take it personally. “Guess I'll retrace my steps.”

He wandered the library, sticking close to the entrance as he looked for his bag. He’d placed it near a sticker someone left up, but now it looked like they’d gone around and de-graffiti-ed the place. It was better, but now he had no idea where his bag was. While he was walking, eyes scanning the walls, he made contact with something. The tables should have been farther away. Danny looked down and quickly reached out to stabilize the woman he’d barreled into. “I am SO SORRY!” Danny apologized, a mini-panic attack unfolding as he nearly tipped over someone in a wheelchair.

“Distracted?” she joked dryly as she arched an eyebrow. She had ginger hair pulled back into a ponytail. She adjusted the glasses on her face since Danny had knocked them askew. She wore comfortable-looking clothes, a green turtleneck, a brown sweater, and gray pants.

“Yeah, I lost my backpack and I was looking for it, but there’s no excuse, I’m so sorry,” Danny said again because how could he not notice that? He had heightened reflexes from his ghost side. He was able to stabilize the wheelchair in time, but he still shouldn’t have bulldozed into her. 

“So, you’re looking for a backpack by staring at the walls?”

“I set it down near a Nightwing sticker, so I was looking for that,” Danny admitted. She didn’t need to know it was in where the sticker was.

“Oh, some club volunteered to clean up the library earlier. They must have taken that down. But I think I have a photo of where it might be. My friend sent me a picture posing next to a Nightwing sticker the last time he was here,” she said, pulling out her phone and scrolling through it until she found what she was looking for. She turned the screen around so he could see it. “Is this the wall?”

There was a tall, muscular man with black hair and blue eyes posing next to a Nightwing symbol sticker with two thumbs up. 

“It was a little more faded than that, but I think it could be the same one,” Danny replied. 

“Then It’ll be around the corner over there by the mystery novels. I didn’t see anything when I passed by, but you're free to look or check the lost and found.”

“Thanks,” Danny said, looking at her name tag, “Ms. Gordon.”

“Barbara is fine, Mr. —?” she replied teasingly. 

“Danny Fenton. You can just call me Danny. And again, I’m so sorry ,”

“Just watch where you’re going next time, Danny,” she replied with a grin.

With the library closed and locked up for the evening, Barbara was free to take part in her second job. She typed away at her keyboard up in the clock tower. Many screens were monitoring the footage from city cameras, Arkham’s security feed and there was a map with every bat and bird's tracker as they moved through the city, but her main computer had one name pulled up. Daniel Fenton, 19 years old, attending Gotham University in the Engineering track, B-average grades, decent attendance record, and son of paranormal scientists Jack and Madeline Fenton. His sister was attending Yale for psychology. 

The kid might have information on the High King Phantom, though he didn’t seem to have the best observational skills. It might be easier to gain access to his parents' work through him than sending one of the birds to Illinois. He did owe her for almost pushing her to the floor. If she phrased it like it was a school research project, he might just give her the opportunity to have his laptop and gain access to his parents' systems, assuming they gave him access. Judging by how much they gave out for free online, the likelihood was high. 

She’d tapped into the police’s radio signal, but it was another lazy night. No crime big enough for them to mobilize. She was about to keep digging into Fenton when she saw it out of the corner of her eye. A guard in Arkham choking, laughing, stumbling over, grabbing his throat. 

No. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t— Barbara switched over to every camera inside Arkham. There was something in his cell, in his bed, under the sheets, but the body was too tall, the legs stuck out, and the skin was white, but not as pale as the Joker’s chemical-bleached skin.
She searched each and every angle, finding him at last, dressed as a guard and gassing another officer. He stole the keys off him and got in a car, speeding out into the streets of Gotham. Barbara turned on her comm, hitting an alarm to get their attention. 

“Oracle, what is it?” Batman asked first. 

“We have an active escape from Arkham,” she said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Joker just entered a police vehicle, license plate PF2873. He’s driving erratically and going around traffic by driving on the sidewalks. Shit, I just lost him around Somerset,” she said, trying to up anything else. Most of the cameras in that area hadn’t been fixed since the last shootout between Batman and  Falcone’s cronies. “Going off of the turns he was making, I think he’s planning to go somewhere near Burnley.” 

“Everyone back to the cave!” Batman instructed. “Oracle, keep watching the cameras and tell me if you see anything. 

“We should all be looking!” Steph argued. “He hasn’t found a rock to crawl under yet. Now’s the best time to spread out and catch that motherfuc—”

“Do not engage !” Batman ordered, leaving no room for argument. “All of you are to go back, now!”

“Tsk,” Robin commented through the comm. 

“We get it, B, but we’re not doing that, so if you want to stop us, you’re gonna have to find the Joker first,” Nightwing said, the thrum of the engine on his motorcycle came through as he sped towards Gotham from whatever part of Bludhaven he’d been in. 

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Batman argued. “All of you are benched.”

Jason’s breathing was uneven. He held his head in one hand and braced the wall of an alley with the other. Why him? Of all the rogues that could escape, on all the days, the one where he could finally be free, he came back. 

“Where’s Ja— Red Hood,” Nightwing asked, ignoring Bruce’s orders to get home. 

“He hasn’t left, at least his tracker says,” Oracle rambled, “Red Hood, confirm your location.”

“I—” Jason tried to speak, but he wanted to throw up. The nausea building in his system was nothing like pit rage. He was dizzy, the world spinning and it was a struggle just to stand on his feet. “Crime Alley,” he managed to say as he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. “I’m still in Crime Alley.” His chest was tight, his heart was racing so fast it felt like it was going to burst. His fingers trembled. That laugh. That fucking laugh was in his head again and he couldn’t hear a fucking word they were saying over the comms because that laugh was rattling his brain.

His hands were shaky as he reached for his grappling hook, firing it. He was moving on instinct, unable to think, only act. Breathe in, breathe out. Before he knew it, Jason was crossing Sprang Bridge into Burnley. He wanted to stay far away from that fucking clown, go to the cave like Bruce said, let his dad handle it, protect him this time when he couldn’t before, but he’d be damned if he left that bastard hurt anyone else. No one else was ever going to die by that fucker’s hands again. 

“I found the vehicle matching PF2873!” Tim reported. “It’s been abandoned not too far from S.T.A.R. Labs. I’m going in to see if he’s trying to hide inside or steal anything that he could use as a weapon.”

“Don’t enter!” Batman ordered. “Not alone!”

“There’s no guarantee he’s even here, and I’m not going to engage!” Tim argued, definitely while going in there. He was right, just because the car was there, doesn’t mean the Joker was inside. He could be in the streets, dressed as a cop, or back in his ugly purple suit. 

“He was using Joker Gas on the guards. Everyone have your face masks ready,” Oracle warned. “He parked in a blindspot, so I didn’t see where he went.”

The bell on the door rang as Danny slipped out of the bodega, stuffing his thin, plastic shopping bag full of goodies into his backpack. The sun had set while he was shopping. Danny knew better than to walk around Gotham at night, which was why he slipped into an alley, storing his backpack inside his torso. He was about to tear open a portal directly into his living room when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was something in the air that was gross, tasted horrible, like banana candy and old carpet. Danny blew the green cloud out of his face in one breath. His system was healing so fast that it was burning like acid reflux. Whatever it was clung to the inside of his esophagus, so he made his esophagus and lungs intangible. It helped.

Then there was a voice, saying something, but Danny didn’t fully process what he was hearing as he whipped around and grabbed whatever was being swung at him and threw a punch at the adversary. Maybe he punched a bit too hard, because the voice— the laugh , now that he was starting to process everything, had cut itself off, leaving Danny in silence. There was blood dripping down his face, nose now very red. He looked more like a clown now than he did before. "The Scarlet Letter," Danny cursed under his breath.

As he got a better look, shining a bit of green light from his fingers, he realized the man in a pinstripe suit with green hair and a manic grin even in his unconscious state was undoubtedly— “Oh no,” Danny said as dread pooled in his stomach, clenching his fist to kill the light. He stared at the crowbar in his other hand. That would’ve hurt. And while he healed quickly, he preferred to avoid being hit over the head. That being said, what was he supposed to do with this? Danny lightly toed the body with his sneaker. There was a muffled groan. Still alive, then. Why did Gotham have to have clowns in her rogue gallery? “Please tell me this is just one of those knockoffs and not the real one,” Danny grumbled to himself. He looked around the empty alley. “Is it safe to leave him here?”

Movement, light, almost impossible to notice, but something just appeared behind him. Danny was so caught up in the body at his toes, that he couldn’t think, so he instead reacted, jumping away from whatever was behind him, screaming because what the heck, and swinging the crowbar as he whipped around to defend himself yet again. 

A woman in a form-fitting, long-sleeved, black top with an attached hood and a neck gaiter covering the lower half of her face up to her nose was standing in the alley with him. Her pants were looser and baggier in the thighs, held up by a yellow utility belt, and she wore knee-high black boots and black gloves. The entire costume had yellow accents, with small armor plates in what were presumably strategic areas on the torso and arms. It was Batgirl! Or was it Black Bat, or Orphan? Were those different bats or was it like the Invis-o-Bill situation?

Whatever her name, she was about to catch his crowbar as he swung it on instinct when he stopped himself inches away from her open hand. “Sorry, you, uh, startled me,” Danny apologized, heart racing as quickly as a stuttered heartbeat could. “He just snuck up on me, and then you appeared, so I just—” Danny rambled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Black Bat took the crowbar from his hand. He made no move to resist her. 

“Sorry. Um, do I need to stay for questioning, or can I leave him with you and go home?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Go,” she stated. At Danny’s hesitation, she added, “It’s fine.” 

He nodded and turned to leave, smashing face first into what he thought was a wall, but upon further inspection was body armor as he was at eye level with a red bat symbol. Oh, cool, Red Hood was here too. That was just what he needed. He smelled better. Not like rotten ectoplasm anymore, just like leather and something else Danny couldn’t quite place. A strong, gloved hand was on Danny’s shoulder, holding him there. So much for his escape. 

Lady Gotham didn’t have time to laugh at Danny’s misfortune as she fruitlessly strangled the shadows around the Joker’s unconscious form. Her rage was palpable, but there was no reaction from the clown, and Danny was the only one who could really see how dark it had gotten around the clown. If he ever died and formed a core, Danny was sure she’d search every corner of the Infinite Realms until she could find and shatter it herself. 

“Is that the Joker?” the modulated voice asked.

Danny’s gaze flicked between the two vigilantes who were embarking in a heavy stare-off battle before deciding to lightly phase out of Red Hood’s grip as he ducked down and inched around the taller vigilante. When they didn’t try to stop him again, Danny took the opportunity to slip out of the alley. They could handle whatever, or whoever, that was. The Joker was supposed to still be in Arkham, so it was probably just some weirdo dressed like him. 

Even his luck couldn’t be that bad.

“The Joker?” Jason asked, willing his hands to stop shaking. 

“Not dead. Still breathing.”

He didn’t bother trying to hide his disappointment when she said it. She'd have known regardless. Jason closed his eyes, focusing on breathing as he gave himself the time he needed to get his head back in the game. It was so much easier after having to practice with the pit. He let the darkness wash over him like a cold embrace before finally opening his eyes again. “And the civilian? We’re just letting him go? No name, no phone number, no address?”

Cass held up the crowbar. “Fingerprints.” She didn’t need to say more. Jason was looking at the blood dripping down the Joker’s face and back at the end of the alley where the guy had run away. “I can take care of this,” Cass said, gesturing to shoo him away. 

Jason nodded. Before he left, he approached the clown. He held his hands away from his guns to ease Cass’s worries. He wasn’t going to kill him. Not today, maybe not ever, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt him. Jason stomped his boot very pointedly on the Joker’s crotch. He put all his weight into it. Hopefully, the Joker would need surgery, and if he was lucky, they’d amputate. “Still alive,” he said. 

Cass was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Good job. Still alive.”

He fired his grappling hook, scanning the streets for a mop of black hair and an old, ratty NASA hoodie.

Danny did his best not to sprint as he made his way back to the condo. There were only two blocks between the Joker’s unconscious body and his bed. He had to walk them in case one of the many bats saw him portal or fly away. Thankfully he didn’t run into any other rogues or pickpockets. Danny didn’t have his key, so he made the lock intangible and opened the door. He stumbled through, kicking his shoes off. As soon as the door shut behind him, he collapsed on the floor. The carpet was actually really comfortable. 

“You good, dude?” Tucker questioned. 

“Let him have his floor time, then ask him later,” Sam quipped. 

“...What about our snacks?” Tucker asked.

Danny didn't say a word as he reached into his torso, retrieving the backpack and portalling it over to the couch.

“Thanks, Danny!” Tucker chirped.

He didn’t reply, instead letting his eyes fall shut. Exhaustion settled into his bones and he couldn’t even think about floating himself to bed. 

Jason tapped his comm, speaking directly to Oracle while the main line was being bombarded by Bruce scolding everyone for doing their jobs when he didn’t want them to. “Hey, I’ve got an address for you.” 

Chapter Text

After a few days of silence from Gotham’s tv networks and newspapers, Danny felt comfortable thinking it probably wasn’t the Clown Prince of Crime that he decked in the face. That being said, when he did decide to tell his friends what unfurled that night, he made sure to have his coffee first.

“You punched the Joker?” Tucker exclaimed, words muffled by the bite of bacon breakfast burrito that he had yet to swallow. He finished his orange juice, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “And you’re only telling us now?” 

“It might not have been him!” Danny argued, shrugging his shoulders as he took a sip of his boiling hot brew. “Sometimes weirdos dress like him while he’s in Arkham.”

“Yeah, but there’s usually a lot of them,” Sam retorted, washing her bowl in the sink. “And there wasn’t anything on the news about a gaggle of Jokers running through the streets at all this week. All they reported on was some drunk driver who stole a cop car and was driving it on the sidewalk.”

“There wasn’t anything about the Joker escaping Arkham either—” Danny said, dragging his hand down his face. “You know? Let’s just move on. We don’t want to say his name when we’re at the farmer’s market.” Danny grabbed his phone and wallet, storing them inside his leg, so if he needed to grab either it looked like he was going in his pocket. 

“But—” Sam started.

“What if the Veganicle sells out? The farmer’s market’s been going for a few hours already,” Danny remarked, mentally counting down, three, two, one—

Sam grabbed both boys by the collars of their shirts, kicking the door open and dragging them out. “Let’s go, people!” she announced. 

“Who wakes up at 7am for a farmer’s market?” Tucker wondered aloud. “Noon. That’s ‘wake up and go to the farmer’s market’ hours.” He rushed to shove the rest of his burrito down his throat before it could fall. Danny was phasing sections of his hands out of the way of falling coffee drops that sloshed from his mug. The burns might heal, but he didn’t exactly enjoy the sting, so he avoided it as best he could.

Gotham Heights was nicer than most places in Gotham, but it was still Gotham at its core. You could tell by the bedazzled gas masks being sold at one of the pop-up stands that lined the closed-off street. Cars were honking as they were forced to find alternative routes. There was a lot of foot traffic with tourists and Gotham natives alike perusing the stalls and food trucks.

Steam rose up from his paper cup as the barista in the Perk Me Up Truck fixed Dick’s order. He tossed some cash in the tip jar as he sipped his Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino, bouncing on his heels as he waited for his second coffee to be poured. 

“So, you think he’ll show up?” Dick asked. “I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“He’s a college student. I doubt he wakes up before noon if he doesn’t have to,” Jason commented, taking a sip of his cup. It could use some extra cream, but he didn’t care enough to ask the barista for more.

“This event was heavily advertised at Gotham U,” Tim stated. He blinked as Dick put a coffee into his hand. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. He’d only been awake 65 hours, which was pretty good for him. “Barbara said that most of the students have been talking about it.”

The older Gothamites were starting to head home now while the younger crowd moved in. It was mostly students and tourists going from stand to stand. There were a few interesting stalls with niche art or fashion mixed with the standard “fresh food” like someone selling carrots and potatoes, another with honey with part of the comb in the jar. 

“Let’s cover more ground,” Tim suggested. “I’m only going to be here for another hour before my packages are due to arrive,” he added, checking the delivery status on his phone. “Someone text Damian to keep him in the loop.” 

“I got it, see you later!” Dick said, bounding off towards the craft aisles. 

Jason grabbed the back of Tim’s hoodie, halting his leave. Tim squawked while Jason ignored him, snatching the cup out of Tim’s hands and threw it into a trash can. He replaced it with his own cup. “That was decaf. This is real,” he stated. 

“Thanks,” Tim replied.

“Keeping my end of the deal, Timberlyn,” Jason said as he slipped into the growing crowd.

“It does taste like grass,” Danny remarked. The drink coated his mouth. There was a lot of pulp or fiber, whatever stringy bits were called when they tried to make it a positive thing instead of investing in a strainer. If he wanted chunky, gritty, grass veggie nonsense, he’d be lying to himself, but soup would be better.

“That’s what makes it so refreshing,” Sam stated, taking a sip of her own drink. He was pretty sure hers had ‘activated dirt’ in it. Whatever the heck that was. “You can feel your body cleansing itself,” she stated.

Danny tried making his tongue intangible, but that made it really hard to drink through a straw. He gave up and settled on holding the straw in his mouth every few seconds without actually taking a sip. An icy breath slipped out. He scanned the street, looking through the crowds until he found them. 

There was a familiar face by one of the stalls selling handmade clothes. A slender, pale greenish-white-skinned girl with red eyes, and long, thick, shaggy green hair was trying on a scarlet scarf while her boyfriend held onto her purple one. If Danny didn’t already know she wasn’t some joker wannabe, her makeup made it clear she was more goth than clown with thick eyeliner, purple eyeshadow, and matching lipstick. She had black fishnets over her green tights and black boots that stopped just before her knees. She wore a red leather jacket over a torn black crop top with a red miniskirt along with both a necklace with a green pendant and a golden ring with a green gem.

Her boyfriend lacked the green, with a more human-passing pale-white, freckled skin, and short, greasy blond hair. He had green eyes and a tiny scruff of beard growing on his chin. He also had a necklace with a green skull which contrasted his white three-quarter sleeve shirt that he wore under his long gray jacket with the sleeves pushed up. black pants and gray boots. He wore two belts with his black pants, a green-and-gray belt strewn through his belt loops, and a gray studded belt that hung down his hip. He accessorized with black fingerless biker gloves and a green-and-gold ring worn on his left hand.

“Johnny, doesn’t this look good on me?” Kitty asked, wrapping a silk scarf around her neck.

“You look great, babycakes,” Johnny replied. “How much is it?”

“Let me see,” she said, flipping over the price tag. “Thirty five bucks for this? It’s a scrap of fabric? That’s robbery!” she exclaimed, throwing the scarf back at the stall table in disgust. “It ain’t that pretty.”

“If you like it, I’ll get it for you babe,” he said, snaking his arm around Kitty’s waist.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s about the principle, Johnny.”

“What are you two doing here?” Danny asked as he approached the stall. 

The couple froze, standing stiffer than rigor mortis. “We weren’t doing nothing,” Johnny protested.

“Never said you were,” Danny retorted, quirking a brow. “What are you doing in Gotham? Or are you going to every farmer’s market? Didn’t think this was your scene.”

“We were just doing some shopping,” Kitty defended. “Last time I checked, there’s no law against that.”

“There isn’t,” Danny agreed, taking a sip of his juice smoothie thing. He regretted it instantly, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, this is terrible.”

“What are you doing here?” Johnny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This is my temporary haunt. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Shit. It’s hard to feel anything other than Lady Gotham here,” Johnny cursed. “We didn’t know we were stepping on your turf.”

Danny shrugged. “As long as you don’t cause trouble for me, I don’t mind you visiting.” He paused, looking between the two of them. “How are you guys shopping when you don’t have any money?” he asked.

“Hey! We have money,” Johnny protested.

“Shadow’s pickpocketing people for you, isn’t he?” Danny guessed.

Johnny sighed, pulling at his hair as he said, “We’re ghosts, man! People don’t hire dead guys. There’s no other way to make cash around here.”

“You could ask,” Danny retorted, reaching into his leg to retrieve his wallet. He handed the couple some of the spending money he traded an amethyst and obsidian ring to Sam for. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Thanks!” Kitty said, snatching the cash out of his hand. “We will, promise.” When Johnny didn’t reply, she elbowed him in the stomach.

“Yeah, promise,” Johnny wheezed. 

Danny looked over at the discarded scarf. It was purple silk with gray webbing and black spiders on it. “You don’t want the scarf?” Danny asked.

“Nah, ain’t my style,” Kitty replied, sticking her nose up to shun the fabric.

“Then I’m gonna get it for Sam,” Danny replied, paying the very tired looking shopkeeper who looked at him with a furrowed brow but didn’t voice any of her questions as to what their relationship was. They were definitely a Gotham native, not asking for information that they didn’t want to know. It was the best way to stay out of trouble. Maybe one day Danny would learn that lesson too. 

Maybe.

They packaged up his scarf, folding it nicely from the crumpled state Kitty had left it in and put it in a plastic bag for him. Danny let it hang from his arm for a bit until he got into a crowded enough space no one would notice him storing it in his stomach. When he emerged from the other side, the only thing he had on him was his disgustingly healthy drink. At least he did before he was distracted by a stall with NASA and Mars rover stickers and walked right into someone. He felt the plastic cup crunch, and managed to redirect the contents, spilling them on his hoodie rather than coating the stranger in liquid grass. 

Danny felt a cold breath leave his mouth as the sticky mess soaked through to his shirt. He caught a glimpse of the black form of Johnny’s shadow before it flew off. Lady Gotham was laughing in his ear, unbothered by the troublemaker in her city. “Ugh, shadow,” Danny cursed under his breath. That ghost’s bad luck was too contagious, and Danny’s own luck was already below sea level. He didn’t need any help making it lower.

There was a hand steadying his shoulder before he could fall over. “Woah, you alright there?” A very nice voice asked, belonging to an even nicer face: blue eyes, strong jawline, soft black hair with a tuft of white at his widow’s peak, broad shoulders, a leather jacket over a simple white t-shirt paired with jeans. He towered over Danny, like how Dash and the other jocks used to, but so much better to look at, even if it hurt his neck. “Here, let me help,”  he offered, taking Danny by the wrist and leading them over to one of the food trucks to steal a few napkins. 

It would have been easier to make his hoodie intangible and let the liquid fall out before the stain could set in, but he couldn’t do that with someone watching him, so RIP to his hoodie. Maybe some spray could get it out, but grass stains were a nightmare and the hoodie had been through a lot. The napkins helped soak up some of the dampness, but it didn’t change the splash of green over the NASA logo. As he went to throw away the plastic cup and used napkins, some kid bumped into him before disappearing into the crowd. 

“Jeez,” Danny commented under his breath. Not even an ‘excuse me.’ Gotham was so different from the Midwest that way. He’d probably get used to it eventually. He turned back to look at the stranger who was still hovering over him, “Thanks for the napkins,” Danny said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for bumping into you.”

“Hey, no problem. I should’ve seen you coming,” tall and handsome said. “But you might want to check your pockets.”

“Huh?” Danny said. It slipped out.

“Lotta pickpockets out today,” he explained.

“Oh, uh, I’m good. Didn’t manage to grab it,” Danny said, pulling his wallet out of his leg through his pocket. Being dead still had some advantages in Gotham. Hopefully Sam and Tucker were alright. Sam usually gave off ‘future rogue’ energy that kept people away. Tucker was a mark. He only used his phone to pay for things now, and after working on it with Technus, only he could open it. And since it gave off an ecto-signature, Danny could find it whenever it fell into the wrong hands.

“Must be your lucky day. Street kids usually don’t miss,” he remarked.

“Yeah, I’m feeling real lucky,” Danny quipped, rolling his eyes. “At least I don’t have to drink grass anymore. I don’t know how my friend enjoys that stuff.”

“Not your thing?” he asked.

“More of a coffee, soda drinker than grass,” Danny replied. While he had his wallet out, he looked over the menu at the food truck. “Want anything? My treat,” Danny offered. 

“I’ve never said no to free food,” he said. While Danny looked over the menu, he added. “The best thing from here are the corndogs and funnel cake. Everything else on the menu is… questionable. My brother swears on the funnel cake. Says it’s as good as the one they used to sell at the circus.” Danny accidentally grimaced at the mention of the circus, prompting the guy to ask, “What? Not a fan?”

“It just reminds me of clowns. Hate clowns,” Danny admitted. 

The man laughed. “You and every Gothamite, myself included,” he replied. 

On his recommendation, Danny got them each a corndog and a funnel cake that was covered in so much powdered sugar he couldn’t see the fried dough beneath it. It was good though. 

“Well, Fenton, see anything you like at the market so far, or all about as good as a grass smoothie?” he asked.

“It’s not all bad,” Danny replied, before pausing. “Wait, did I tell you my name?”

“You dropped this,” he said, holding out Danny’s student ID card for Gotham U. “I’m glad you bumped into me, so I could return it.”

“Jeez, I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached to my body,” Danny bemoaned, setting his food down at one of the pop up tables they’d set out before taking his card back and sliding it into his wallet. He promptly shoved the wallet back into his leg. “It must have fallen out when I bought the scarf. Thanks. And, uh, you can just call me Danny. Hearing Fenton makes it sound like I’m in trouble.”

“If you’re around me, you might be in trouble,” he said, voice dipping lower as he leaned in to say it, and was this flirting? Was he being flirted with? In real life?

“I, um, uh—” Danny stammered, face feeling warm. “Your name?” he managed to ask. 

“Jason,” he said, with a wolfish grin. He took a pen off of the stall’s cart for signing receipts and wrote on Danny’s hand. There were ten numbers, three of which Danny recognized as Gotham’s area code. It was his phone number! “I gotta go, but hit me up sometime. You look new to the city,” he said.

“That obvious?”

“Yeah, so let me show you around sometime,” he, Jason, offered. 

“Okay— Yeah! That’d be great! I mean, cool.” Danny said.

As he left, Danny scrambled to put the phone number in his contact list before he could smudge the ink and lose it.

“Find out anything?” Dick asked, stealing a piece of his funnel cake. Jason rolled his eyes, letting him.

“He was pretty easy to pickpocket. Don’t know how that kid missed him,” Jason remarked. “I mean, he had no idea I grabbed his card while he was looking at the menu. He must’ve gotten lucky.”

“You were going to let him get pickpocketed?” Dickhead said, all guilt-tripy. 

“I was going to get it back for him. Earn some hero points. Make it easier to get on his good side.” Jason said, taking a bite out of his corndog. “Though he’s pretty trusting off the bat. Even if I didn’t have his background info, I’d know he wasn’t from Gotham.” He’d stood in his path waiting for the collision knowing Danny wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and the guy still bought him food after getting his drink spilled all over himself. Midwesterners were weird. Didn’t even curse him out.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Dick said. 

“It can be,” Jason retorted. Trusting the wrong person in Gotham could be a death sentence. “He did just befriend a crime lord.”

Dick shook his head. “What about you, Damian?”

“His companion was tolerable,” Damian remarked. “Samantha has a refined palate. She too visited the only vegan food truck in this market, which despite its ridiculous name, is adequate.”

High praise from Damian, low praise from Danny; if he had to guess, he’d probably share the opinion of the twink rather than his little brother. 

“I invited her to attend our next banquet. She is happy to support my charity sponsoring a new hospital at the zoo.” 

“Her parents make toothpicks or something, right?” Dick recounted.

“Samantha’s great-grandfather invented a machine that twirled cellophane around deli toothpicks,” Damian corrected. “Are you sure you read her file or did you merely skim it?” 

“I read it!” Dick defended. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Yeah, too busy being a pig,” Jason remarked.

Dick bristled, face quickly turning into a pout as he said, “I’m not a cop anymore.”

“Oh, you’ve officially retired now that your modeling career has taken off?” Jason teased.

“It helps me gain access to backstage areas—” Dick defended. “We’re not talking about this right now.”

“How much access could that possibly grant you that you couldn’t already get with father’s name?” Damian questioned, brow furrowed. 

Jason popped a chunk of funnel cake in his mouth, watching his brother’s squabble. Damian was genuinely asking, which made it all the better since Dick could brush off his teasing but it was harder to answer the demon’s interrogation. 

“Where’d you run off to?” Tucker asked. “Bro, your hoodie! Grass stains do not come out easily.” He shook his head. “You should’ve just thrown it away if you didn’t like it. Sam wouldn’t have known.”

He ignored his friend’s remarks, barely registering them as he said, “I got a hot person’s number.” Danny was still in a daze from the entire interaction. He’d barely eaten. 

Tucker elbowed his side, grinning as he said, “Ooo, a pretty lady?”

“Guy,” Danny corrected.

“Oh, I can’t really give you any input there, but good for you!” Tucker said, shooting Danny two finger guns “Finally getting back out there!”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Danny retorted.

“My heart belongs to my tech right now,” Tucker stated, clutching his chest. “I have to focus on school!”

“Yeah, because you’re just so responsible,” Danny retorted, rolling his eyes.

“It’s a burden I must bear,” Tucker agreed, nodding solemnly. He stole half of Danny’s funnel cake without asking, knowing that he didn’t need to. 

Danny glanced around the market. “Where’s Sam?” 

“Plants,” Tucker said, jerking his powdered sugar-covered thumb in the direction of a garden stall. 

“Yeah, that tracks,” Danny remarked. “Wanna find a seat and finish this while we wait for her?” 

“I saw a few tables set up back this way,” Tucker replied, gesturing for Danny to follow. “Let’s grab a spot before they’re all gone.”

Steph perched herself on one of the pull up bars they had in the cave, looking over at the table where Tim was currently unboxing some shiny new toys. He pulled out something wrapped in an ungodly amount of bubble wrap. When he finally cut it free, there was a glowing green test tube. “Oh, is that ectoplasm?” she asked.

Tim popped his head up, looking around before spotting her, “What? Oh, this? No, it’s a vial of…” he pulled out a scrap of paper from the box that presumably listed the contents. “Ecto-Dejecto,” he answered, “It’s supposedly meant to weaken ghosts. I have another vial of it running some samples by itself and mixed with Jason’s bloodwork.” 

“You bought a product called Ecto-Dejecto ? That sounds like some kid’s slime,” Steph teased. “I think you got scammed.”

“I didn’t buy it directly. It came in their mystery boxes.”

Tim continued cutting open the cardboard while Steph paused, processing what she’d just heard. “I’m sorry, their what ?” she asked.

“It was one of the options,” Tim replied, like it was normal and he just added some garlic knots to a pizza order. “There’s a lot of random things crammed in here. It almost looks like they were just clearing out space. There was a baseball bat in the other one. I ran some scans on it, but it’s just a regular wooden bat with ‘Fenton’ on it and a tag calling it the ‘Anti-Creep Stick.’ It's got a few other gadgets, so it’s not a total loss. You’ll like the Fenton Booo-merang and Fenton Ghost Fisher.” 

“Is it a boomerang and fishing pole with the word Fenton on it? Please tell me it’s just a regular boomerang and fishing pole too.” Steph giggled, jumping down from her perch to poke through the gadgets Tim laid out on the table.

“I’m not sure what it’s supposed to do, but it has sensors on it, so it’s not just a boomerang. As for the ghost fisher, the line is coated in some sort of resin that supposedly traps ghosts. I need to run a few scans to test it myself.” Tim replied as he cut open another box. “Oh, here’s the Fenton Bazooka.”

Steph dropped the baseball bat she’d picked up back on the table. She watched as Tim cut open the cardboard to reveal a metal suitcase. When he unlatched it, he pulled out what looked like a very bazooka-shaped weapon. “Etsy did not let you buy a real bazooka.” 

“They probably thought it was for cosplay or something. It’s supposed to be a large blaster able to shoot ‘damaging beams of energy’ at ghosts. It’s fueled by artificially made ectoplasm. I’m going to see if I can get inside the battery. It supposedly can last years with frequent use. If that’s true it could be a revolutionary power source, though I’m skeptical. If they had this kind of power developed years ago, why isn’t anyone using it now?”

“Because it runs on ghost juice?” Steph guessed.

She proceeded to ignore Tim’s boring tech talk and went back to perusing his ghost hunter haul. She picked up another box labeled Fenton Rod. The handwriting was legible, but scribbled on in sharpie. “Is this another fishing pole?” she asked.

“That's supposed to be a Bo-staff that fires 'anti-ghost lazers' and it can split into two long sticks for dual combat. Madeline Fenton is a skilled martial artist. It seems she’s implemented that in her inventions.”

“Bo-staff, huh? Perfect for you,” Steph snarked. As she cut it open with a batarang, Steph inspected the sleek metal staff. “If it’s cool, I might steal it though,” she warned.

The bat computer beeped. The results of Tim’s little experiment flashed on the screen. He set the bazooka down and headed over to the computer. Typing away at the keyboard as he started to organize everything and add to his report. 

“The Ecto-Dejecto itself seems to be made of ectoplasm and a few other components. When injected into Jason’s blood before he died, it stays separate, but in the sample with pit water, it binds with his blood, strengthening and multiplying, then I don’t know what it’s done. It looks like the chemical makeup of the pit water has changed to something more closely resembling his current blood, but it’s not exactly the same.”

“So what about when you put that stuff in his current bloodwork? That looks greener than it did before.” Steph remarked.

“It is. It also bonded to the sample, but it didn’t change very much other than the ectoplasm in his blood seems stronger. It’s actually glowing under the microscope. See the little specs?”

Steph picked up one of the vials of Ecto-Dejecto off the table and sauntered over to the scanner. “What happens if we add more to it?” she questioned.

“Don’t,” Tim shouted as Steph tipped the vial onto his sample. He started typing to close the scanner so she couldn’t tamper with anything else. The other samples shot back into the machine. “You just flooded his pit blood. We only have a few samples of that left. My tests are going to get skewed.”

“But you do have others,” Steph defended. “Come on, this is science.”

“No, you’re making a mess and now I have to g— Behind you!” Tim yelled. 

Jason’s bloodwork started to glow and bubble up until it was a green blob with glowing red eyes and a jagged mouth. It hissed at her. Steph leapt back, expecting an attack but the creature started sliding down the scanner like a slug, scurrying towards the cave entrance. 

Steph threw a batarang at it and it phased right through the creature, embedding itself in the floor. The weird little blob didn’t even seem to notice she’d tried to hit it. “Fuck!” she said, running after it. When she caught up and tried to grab it, the thing was slimy and just as she had it in her grasp, she felt it vanish, then it reappeared on the floor, getting closer to the back entrance. “You little—” 

Tim grabbed the fishing pole off the table, casting the line. It hooked the creature’s mouth and while he reeled it in, the blob became tangled in the line.

Steph squinted, watching as the creature bared its teeth at her. “Mini-Jason is a bitch,” she remarked.

Tim stared at her as he finished reeling in the blob. “We are not calling it that.”

“It’s basically his flesh and blood. Well, just his blood, but still. Baby Jay,” Steph stated, poking at the blob who hissed at her. “I guess that line does trap ghosts. If that’s what Jason Jr. is.”

Tim sighed. “Bruce isn’t going to like this,” he remarked as the little green blob wiggled around, unsuccessfully trying to free itself.

“Is that different from any other day?” Steph asked.

Chapter Text

Danny stared down at his phone as it vibrated in his hand, caller ID staring right back at him. His stomach twisted in knots as it continued to ring. He sat down at his desk, took a deep breath and answered. “Hi Mom, dad,” he greeted.

“Hey Dan-o!” Jack boomed even though Danny hadn’t put it on speaker. “Did you make some friends that are getting into ghost hunting? Not much to see in Gotham, but hey! You gotta start somewhere.”

His eye twitched. Danny could feel a headache coming as he hesitantly answered, “No… why ?”

“Your father and I recently made some big sales on the Etsy shop we set up! The P.O. box was addressed to Gotham, so we thought you might have told your new friends or classmates some of your stories about hunting ghosts here in Amity.”

“And Jazzy-pants thought no one was going to buy anything, hah!” Jack boasted. Danny could picture him proudly standing with his chin up and hands on his hips.

“...You’re sure you're not selling them to some wannabe batman rogue, right?” he asked.

“Oh honey, our weapons only hurt ghosts! And Batman isn’t a ghost. If someone wanted to be a rogue with our weaponry there, they’d get their butt kicked in two seconds flat! You shouldn't worry about that. You took a few with you too, right?” Maddie said.

“Right… I still have a few things with me. There haven’t been any ghost attacks though, just Gotham rogues,” Danny stated.

“It’s strange that despite all the ambient ectoplasm there, you don’t find ghosts.” Jack bemoaned. “It would have been the perfect place to set up shop if not for Amity’s ectoplasm levels and ghost activity.”

Danny set the phone down, switching it to speaker so he could massage his temples. Partially to change topics, he asked, “Did you get that thermos I sent you and my note?”

“Yeah! I’ve never seen ectoplasm go bad! Even after leaving a vial in the back of the fridge for three years!” Jack remarked. “We’ve been running tests on it! It doesn’t match pure ectoplasm chemically. It’s missing a few components that must have degraded somehow. What’s weirder is these samples almost mimic living tissue, like it imprinted on some, but it doesn’t react like a ghost.”

“We’re not sure what happened to it.” Maddie stated.

“Can you purify it?” 

“Of course we can, Dan-o! Your mother and I are geniuses! The Fenton Purifier, that’ll be our next invention!” Jack announced. 

“That’s great, Dad.”

“Oh, by the way, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you get it into the lab?” Maddie questioned.

Danny froze, a ball of anxiety bouncing around his chest. “Oh, I, uh, asked a friend who still lives there to deliver it. They had a spare key,” he lied.

There was a pause on the other line before Jack finally spoke, “We didn’t know you had any friends besides Sam and Tucker.”

Maddie added, “Not that that’s a bad thing! We’re glad you still have friends here too.”

“But, uh, tell them to knock next time,” Jack said. 

“Maybe they thought you two weren’t home?” Danny theorized.

“Ah, there was that ghost that triggered our sensors by the park. It must have been then! And we wouldn’t want anyone getting their hands on this stuff. It looks disgusting,” Jack said. “Still, if it’s not an emergency, they could give us a call, ring the doorbell, knock—”

“So Danny, where did you find it?” Maddie asked. “We’ve been through Gotham plenty of times, but there was never anything like this.”

“Maybe it was exposed to joker gas? Or something. I found a puddle of it after a rogue attack. Looked like ectoplasm, figured I’d send it home to the experts.” Those two always did soften up when complimented on their ghost hunting prowess. He could picture both of them preening.

“Aww, we’ll keep you updated sweetie,” Maddie promised. “But if you see any more of it, don’t touch it with your bare hands. It’s not like regular ectoplasm, and our readings show that it could be deadly to living flesh.”

Jack added, “We obviously can’t test that, but trust in our genius Dan-o. You do NOT want that stuff on you.”

“...Did you guys touch it?” Danny asked.

“We’re in our jumpsuits, sweetie. We’re perfectly safe!” Maddie assured him. 

“Okay, good,” Danny said. Clockwork wouldn’t have let him send them the contaminated ectoplasm if they were going to be hurt by it, so things should be fine. They were on the right timeline. “I’ve got some homework to get back to, and I’m sure you two are busy experimenting, so I won’t keep you.”

“We’ll talk to you later sweetie! Love you,” Maddie said.

“Stay safe out there Dan-o. Gotham is full of weirdos,” Jack warned.

“I’m staying safe, promise,” Danny replied. “Love you guys too.” He hung up, sagging back into his seat. He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “What’s a rogue gonna do to me? Kill me?” He muttered to himself, spinning around in his chair before finally opening his laptop again. He did actually have some homework to do.

“Congrats on being a grandfather!” Steph chirped.

The doors to the elevator had only just opened as Bruce stepped into the cave, pulling his cowl over his head. His entire body stiffened when Steph spoke. He was a deer caught in headlights. 

“It’s not Jason’s baby. It’s something that reacted to the Ecto-Dejecto to create what the Fentons would refer to as a ghost,” Tim stated, voice strained as he slumped forward in his chair. 

“Mini Jay has his blood,” Steph argued. The green blob hissed and lunged forward, unable to go far from where it was tethered by the special ghost-proof fishing line. “And look at that attitude. It’s obvious where he gets it from.”

It was bearing its teeth, wriggling around in the restraint, fruitlessly trying to free itself. The green blob had managed to tangle itself up far more than Tim had gotten it when he first secured Baby Jay. It didn’t look like it was in pain, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It would have been nicer to put it in a crate or something, but the fishing line was the only thing stopping it from phasing through everything.  

“It probably has pit rage,” Tim argued, reaching for his mug of coffee that had long gone cold and took a sip. 

Cass emerged from her training session, a towel draped around her neck. “It’s not angry. It’s scared,” she clarified. 

Batman gave the creature a wide berth as he surveyed his surroundings. Half of the Fenton gadgets had been completely dismantled as Tim scanned them and attempted to teach himself how to put them back together again. He was still getting to that part. Batman cautiously took a step closer to Mini Jay, only for it to hiss a warning at him. “Is that string sufficient to contain the creature?” B. asked, skeptically eyeing the fishing pole. “There were no other containment units that you purchased that would be more efficient?”

“The package was temporarily lost in shipping, but it’s supposedly going to arrive tomorrow,” Tim explained. “In the meantime, it doesn’t appear to be able to free itself, but I’m monitoring that for any changes.” 

“You’re gonna monitor him? How many hours have you been awake already?” Steph questioned.

Tim glared at her. “I’m fine.” 

“Not fine,” Cass stated.

“He most certainly is not. I’ll watch the child,” Alfred stated. Tim jumped, showing just how tired he was since he didn’t notice the butler approach them. “Master Timothy, I believe it’s time you attempt to get some rest.”

“This thing isn’t exactly tame,” Tim stated. “Are you sure you want to—”

“I’ve plenty of experience with such children.” Alfred ushered Tim away from the batcomputer and up the stairs. He was making ground despite the way Tim was dragging his feet. “Now off to bed with you.”

“But—” Tim argued, but Alfred was already sending him up the elevator leading back to the grandfather clock.

“I’ll take no arguments at this time,” Alfred stated firmly. 

There was a small tug on his core as a feeling of damp stale air reached his nose mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Danny brushed off the would-be summons. Whoever wanted the Ghost King was somewhere gross, and he didn’t feel like dealing with a cult. He had plenty of other things on his plate, thank you very much. 

Like finding Red Hood. 

Danny flew through Crime Alley, somehow missing the vigilante every time he made a loop. He was considering going through buildings, but that was an invasion of privacy for the people who lived there, plus, if he did find Hood, he might accidentally find his hideout, and that was crossing boundaries. Besides, he had to be out. There was evidence of him everywhere. Unconscious goons, gunshots, rubber bullets, but no Red Hood. Every time he got close to the vigilante, he was just a second too late to see where he went.

“Man, how is he getting around so fast?” Danny wondered aloud. He sighed, looking around every corner and rooftop. “Lady Gotham, can you please stop hiding him,” Danny whined. “I know he’s around here somewhere. I just want to talk. Un-alived guy to un-alived guy.”

Lady Gotham for her part seemed apathetic to Danny’s plea. She was there, clearly heard him, but there was a questioning why that lingered between them. 

“Well, he probably has questions. Finding out you’re still dead isn’t exactly easy to deal with. I know he ran away last time, but it’s not healthy to cope like that,” Danny stated. “I want to help him if he’ll let me.” There was a light tug on his core, nothing near as strong as when she’d dragged him across Gotham, but it was pointing him in what was hopefully the right direction. 

Sure enough, there was a red helmet in an alleyway, beating the hell out of what looked like a drug dealer based on what fell out of the crates he was trying to unload when Hood threw the guy through them back into the moving truck he'd rented for this operation. The door to the trunk slammed shut, the engine revved, but it wasn't going anywhere. The tires were already shot.

He pulled some guy out of the driver’s seat and grappled up to the roof, hanging the guy over the edge. Danny hovered out of earshot. He could probably learn a thing or two picking up interrogation tips from the bats, but they were being so quiet he’d need to get right next to them and that felt weird. Like he was stalking Hood.

Whatever was said between the two ended with Hood breaking the guy's nose and tossing him off the building. Danny almost flew down to save him when he realized Hood threw him on top of the moving truck. The guy was unconscious, definitely harmed, but alive. Considering he was trying to sell drugs in Hood’s territory, that was a pretty good outcome for the guy.

Danny made himself visible again and called out, “Hey dead boy!” He floated over to the vigilante. “You got a minute?”

Red Hood was already pulling out his grappling hook to get away when he froze at the sound of Danny’s voice. He looked back over his shoulder, hesitantly asking, “...Why?”

“Well, I figured no one really explained the whole being dead thing to you. And you ran off last time so ...”

The vigilante crossed his arms over his chest. “I had some things to process.” 

“Yeah, that's fair,” Danny said. “I just wanted to see if you had any questions. I guess. I mean, I didn't have anyone to talk to about this kind of thing when I died. My friends were there for me, but they didn't really get it.”

The tension left Red Hood’s body as he rested one hand on his hip. “Overbearing?”

“Honestly, no. They're pretty nonchalant about the whole, ‘accidentally getting me killed thing ’ since I came back as a ghost and got powers and, overall, am fine.”

Jason stared at the guy floating beside him, nonchalantly mentioning his murder like it was some insignificant event that happened in the past. “They got you killed?” he pressed.

The Ghost King made a face as he shrugged. “I mean technically only one of them. I was a kid. It was a dare. The whole thing was pretty stupid. Actually, I died twice since Desiree used her power to un-kill me, so my friend had to kill me again the same way I died the first time, so I could fight Desiree with ghost powers— I'm getting off track. This is supposed to be me helping you, not my origin story.” He rambled, brushing aside the double homicide. 

Jason pursed his lips beneath his helmet. Desiree was another rogue to add to his list alongside Skulker. “Are you sure you don't need help?” At the very least the guy needed to keep better company. Fuck. How bad was this Desiree person that his friend killed him again?

A solemn smile tugged at Danny’s lips. “I know it sounds bad, really bad actually, but we were a bunch of dumb kids back then. My death and resurrection as a ghost were so instantaneous that I don't even think they understood that I died in there. I didn't even know if I had died or just gotten really lucky. I should have known better because I'm never lucky. But, I really don’t resent them for it. Everything worked out in one way or another. Besides, they're my best friends, and I'd die for them again.” Though preferably not by electrocution. Been there, done that. Wouldn't recommend it.

They were quiet for a long time, and then sirens were blaring as Gotham Police finally picked up the dealers. “Wanna move to another roof?” Danny offered, tearing open a portal. “There’s a quiet one here, really tall so no one should hear us.”

Red Hood tensed, looking between Danny and the portal before saying, “Fuck it. Sure.”

The portal was weird. Nothing like using a zeta tube. It was cold, really fucking cold. It chilled him straight to the bone as though he wasn’t wearing a jacket or anything to protect himself. But that wasn't as bad as the sensation of moving through the portal. It was almost gelatinous as he stepped into the tear in reality that the Ghost King made to move around as he pleased. It was like the portal was physical and not at the same time, and weirdly textured. It was the first time he used a portal that had a physical feeling to it. Not quite slimy, but it wasn’t great either. At least it didn’t hurt.

“Fuck! Is everything about you cold as balls?” Jason questioned as he stepped onto the concrete roof. 

“Not my sunny disposition,” the Ghost King retorted.

“You’re really fucking annoying,” Jason remarked. 

King Phantom gave him a cheeky grin. “So I’ve been told.”

Silence fell between them again. Everything was so fucking hard to process. One second he was beaten within an inch of his life and then blown up, the next he was buried alive in a coffin, forced to dig himself out, and then he was kidnapped and dumped in the pit, now he was here, mind finally clear, but that didn’t make everything go away. Jason broke the silence first. “I was murdered.” 

The King’s face softened instantly, not with pity, but understanding. Someone who fucking got it . Knew what it was like. “You don't have to tell me how you died if you don't want to.”

“You did,” Jason retorted.

“I acknowledged my death. I never said what actually killed me. It's not something I like talking about. Most ghosts don't. We're in our afterlives, so there's no point in dwelling on our deaths. But that doesn't mean we won't talk about being dead. Dead jokes are part of the culture!”

The edge of his lip curled up. “Are they now?” Jason asked. His family always hated the death jokes. Made them all annoying and depressed. 

“Do you have any idea how many variations of ‘dead kid’ I've been called over the years?” 

Jason stared at the King before him, “You let them call you dead kid?”

Danny shrugged. “I mean, I was a kid, teen I guess, when I died, so they weren’t wrong.”

“I was too,” Red Hood admitted. “So, since you’re more of a ghost than I am, are you still a kid or forever one?”

“Some ghosts choose to stay kids forever, but we can control how we look by manipulating ectoplasm, so no, I’m legally an adult.”

“And you just choose to be that short and scrawny?” Red Hood teased.

Danny thought about it for a moment before letting his form grow until he was at eye level with Hood, a bit bulkier too.

“Hey, no, that’s bullshit, turn back.”

Danny made himself two inches taller than the vigilante. “I usually don’t change my form very often, because I always worry that I won’t remember what I was like before to change back, but you know? I don’t think I mind this. Less neck strain now that I don’t have to look up.”

“If you didn’t want to look up you could just float,” Red Hood argued. “Are you sure you’re not still a kid?”

“Ha! I was way worse when I was younger. That’s part of why I’m king now. They waited until I was old enough to be crowned although I beat Pariah Dark back when I was fourteen. Even the ghost zone knew it was a bad idea to make a freshly turned teenager into the Ghost King. I was still figuring out my powers then. I don’t think I would’ve known what to do with the boost the crown gives me.”

“What can you do?”

“Uh, let me think. I already had trouble remembering everything, and I got a few more after becoming Ghost King. The main ones I use are flight, intangibility, invisibility, and Ghost Ray. I guess making portals now too. Been using that more and more.”

“Ghost Ray ? The fuck is that supposed to be?” Red Hood questioned.

“I can release ecto-energy to attack, one of them being a sort of ray blast, or other forms of attack, but Ghost Ray is a ray blast attack.”

Red Hood stared at him for a minute, and Danny thought he’d need a better explanation until the Vigilante spoke again, “Why are you able to do shit I can’t do if we’re both dead?” 

“Oh! Well, see, the thing is, you're like 80% human, 20% ghost.” Danny looked at him, squinting his eyes. “Maybe 10% ghost.”

“That’s bullshit.” 

Danny shrugged, perching himself on top of a gargoyle. “Them’s the breaks. Lady Gotham just kinda threw you back in your body and duct-taped you together again.” He could almost feel a swat on his shoulder from the city spirit smacking him. “Which, considering I didn’t know that was possible, is quite the feat, but it comes with a lack of retaining ghost abilities.” 

Red Hood tensed again. “Lady Gotham?”

“Your city spirit. She really loves her knights, but you’re her favorite ,” Danny sing-songed.

“Isn’t Batman her favorite?” Red Hood asked, seeming to at least tentatively accept Lady Gotham’s existence. 

“Ha! No,” Danny replied easily. “She likes him, but not the way she loves you.” Danny felt a tug on his core, pulling him off his perch. He laughed, floating back to his seat. He deserved that. “You understand the city in a way he could never. And she appreciates that.”

“Is she… like you?”

“No, not really. City Spirits are connected to the Infinite Realms, but they’re not ghosts in the traditional sense. They’re made of ectoplasm just like I am, but they’re stretched thin because they encompass the entire city.”

“If she covers all of Gotham, could she locate people?”

“From my understanding, she can to an extent. It’s easy for her to find me because she can latch onto my ecto-signature. Humans all look kinda similar in the darkness. She knows you, your uh —coworkers? And she finds you because her presence is always with you. That’s why your shadows are darker. She helps where she can, but that’s pretty much the extent. Her consciousness is in all of Gotham, but her focus can only be in a few areas, like you have your whole body but you can’t make eyes in the back of your head or throw a punch with your stomach. …I’m not great with analogies, but basically, she’s usually too focused on trying to keep you safe to do anything else. Ow—”

“Ow?” Red Hood asked, staring at him. 

“It was Lady Gotham,” Danny explained. “I let her grab my core so she can show me around. She also uses it to mess with me.” He said it fondly, a smile tugging at his lips. Gotham was just as feisty as her residents.

“You let her?” Red Hood asked. While Danny couldn’t see his face, he was sure the man looked befuddled. “Or you can’t stop her?”

Danny grinned, but it was forced. “With all due respect,” he started, letting a tiny bit of his energy fill the space around them. “I could stop any ghost or spirit from doing anything I didn’t want them to,” Danny stated, sitting cross-legged in the air. “But it’s kinda mean, and I honestly think it’s hilarious. She’s like a cat. Ow !” 

Lady Gotham wasn’t at all disturbed by his energy. Red Hood on the other hand had stiffened like a statue. Danny cut off the power, letting it dissipate.  

The vigilante seemed to relax as the air cleared once more. He asked, “If I’m 10% ghost, what does that mean for me?”

“You might have a slight healing factor. Ghosts heal most of their wounds rapidly, yours should be above the average human, but I doubt anything would be instantaneous.”

“So I’m a meta?”

“No. We don’t have the meta gene, and Ghosts aren’t protected under the Meta Protection Act. The government classifies us as—”

The whirl of propeller blades broke their conversation as a drone appeared hovering beside them with a large screen. The man on said screen wore a green suit with a matching domino mask and bowler hat paired with a purple tie covered in question marks. His gold cane was also shaped like a question mark. 

“Well if it isn’t the Red Hood! Not the bat I was looking for, but you’ll do,” the Riddler stated, clasping his hands together. It looked like he was going to hit himself with his cane, but he managed to avoid it. “What is always in front of you but can’t be seen?”

Phantom narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brow as he quietly mumbled, “Clean glass?”

“Do you always have glass in front of you?” Jason retorted.

“I’m not good at riddles!” Phantom said. “And like, every building has glass now, so kinda.”

Jason shook his head and rolled his eyes beneath his helmet before answering, “It’s the future.”

“Well, at least one of you has a good head on his shoulders,” the Riddler remarked.

“I’m being bullied again,” Phantom lamented. 

“Your new sidekick could use some work,” the Riddler remarked.

“Sidekick? What about this,” he gestured to his ghostly form. “Screams Red Hood’s sidekick? I’m just visiting.”

“The Bat doesn’t like other vigilantes in his city,” the Riddler said, talking out loud to himself.

“I’m retired,” Phantom relayed.

“You were a vigilante?” Red Hood said in a lowered voice, avoiding getting picked up by the microphone on the Riddler’s drone. 

“Before I was king,” Phantom whispered back. “Now all my rogues follow my rules.”

“Must be nice,” Red Hood remarked.

“You have no idea,” Phantom stated. He crossed his arms over his chest and squinted those glowing green eyes. “How is his camera picking me up? Does it use ecto-energy? Technus must have gotten bored.”

“Who?” Jason asked, mentally added yet another rogue to his list.

“You’ll probably meet him later if I’m right. He’s mostly harmless.”

“Mostly?”

There was an explosion, not close enough to hurt them but it couldn’t have been more than a block away. Fucking Riddler. Jason instinctively grabbed his grappling hook, but the bastard said, “Can I have your attention once again, or do you not care if the bombs I’ve scattered across all of Gotham explode?”

Jason grit his teeth. One of the others would have heard it too, they’ll handle the civilians. He needed to keep the Riddler busy. “Give us the damn riddle,” Jason demanded. 

“Splendid!” the bastard grinned. “Now that we’re back on track, what goes up but never comes down?” 

“Hydrogen gas,” Phantom stated very confidently for someone saying the wrong answer.

Jason rolled his eyes and said, “Age.”

“I liked my guess better,” Phantom quipped. “Hydrogen rises because it’s lighter than air.”

“Ignore him, it’s age,” Jason repeated.

The Riddler narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose as he looked at the Ghost King. “Yes, age goes up and up but never down.”

“That only applies to the living. Youngblood is like thousands of years old and he still looks eight,” Phantom argued. “Hydrogen on the other hand—”

The Riddler didn’t tell riddles for no reason. They always had some sort of ulterior purpose. Age didn’t tell him where the bombs were located, so it was connected to whatever his real motive. “What’s the next riddle?” Jason asked.

“I love your enthusiasm," the Riddler remarked. "Let's keep that going, shall we? To cross the water, I'm the way. For water, I'm above. I touch it not, and truth to say, I neither swim nor move. What am I?”

“He’s at a bridge,” Jason said as he launched his grappling hook. Phantom flew alongside him.

“Which bridge?” Phantom asked. “Gotham has a few.”

“Don’t know.” He tried accessing his comm, but there was just static interference again.

“Let me check,” Phantom said, creating numerous small portals and sticking his head through them. “It's Sprang Bridge. I can get us there if you want.”

He didn’t want to go through jelly hell again, but he’d suck it up. “Do it,” he said and Phantom opened the portal. It was cold and gross, but he could already see the green bombs strapped to the sides of the bridge. Cars sped by, oblivious to the threat that loomed above and below them on the support beams.

“How do they set this stuff up with so many of you guys running around?” Phantom questioned. 

Jason shrugged. “Their goons work fast.”

“You got here quickly,” the Riddler remarked from another drone. As it hovered in the air, Jason noticed Phantom move out of its view to fucking clone himself and send those clones to disable the bombs. He’d ask what the fuck that was about later. Now, he needed to keep Riddler from noticing. 

“What? Don’t have the next riddle prepared already?” Jason goaded. 

The Riddler huffed. “I always have my riddles ready,” he retorted. "I was just making sure you were ready for the task. I know being surrounded by bombs makes you heroes distracted. We do need to stay on task here. You may disable them when we're done."

That was long enough. The clones were out of view and the High King floated back to his side. "Riddle, anytime now," Jason said, hoping his helmet could properly convey his glare.

“A man who was outside in the rain without an umbrella or hat didn’t get a single hair on his head wet. Why is that?” the Riddler asked.

Jason stated, “He was bald.” 

“How do you just know this stuff?” Phantom wondered aloud. He leaned his head back against one of the bridge’s pillars. “So he’s targeting an old, bald person? That could be like a fourth of Gotham.”

“I suppose you’ll need another riddle then,” the Riddler remarked. 

“Do we have to?” Phantom grumbled. 

“Hurry up,” Jason ordered. 

“Your mind is clever, but I prefer the other ones without your attitude,” the Riddler muttered. “Very well. Everything in me is ancient. What am I?”

Jason ignored the drone, looking at Phantom as he said, “Open a portal to Gotham Museum.” 

“...Yeah, okay,” Phantom said as he tore open another portal. This time, they weren’t in the museum, they were in front of a sign that read “Gotham Museum one mile” with an arrow pointing down the road. Jason rolled his eyes and started grappling as Phantom flew beside him.

“Really?” he asked. “Time is kinda of the essence here.” 

Phantom fucking pouted. “I don’t know Gotham very well, okay? You put me on the spot! I haven’t been to that many places yet.” 

Jason didn’t slow his momentum as they reached the museum, kicking through one of the glass windows. Bruce would end up paying for it anyway. Phantom phased his way in. 

There were five bombs that he could see, maybe more. He started trying to disarm the closest one when another damn drone flew into the room. “Oh, so you were in here,” the Riddler remarked. “I was surprised you left the bridge so quickly. Another birdie must have taken over. You can try to disarm that one all you like. There are plenty more where it came from.” He grinned like the cat that caught the canary. 

He was so fucking annoying. 

Chapter Text

Green illuminated the room as something bubbled away in the bombs. They were placed on the support beams. Danny cloned himself, phasing through the walls to find a plethora of bombs throughout the entire museum. Whatever made it green wasn't ectoplasm. It didn't radiate that sort of energy. It was hot to the touch, but heat was the only thing he could sense. Weird.

He reached out to touch the glass frame, freezing the liquid inside and the rest of the bomb as it spread. He phased his hands through the metal frame and ripped out every wire. The light instantly vanished, so it wasn’t the liquid itself that was glowing but whatever was heating it up. 

It was incredibly tempting to take a look around the museum. There were some cool exhibits showcasing dinosaur bones, relics from who knows where that, unlike the ones he was used to, didn’t appear to be haunted! Next time. Who knew how many bombs were left.

Danny reappeared at Red Hood’s side, recalling all of his clones. They were bantering back and forth, both grating on each other’s nerves by the scowl on the Riddler’s face and the way Red Hood’s modulated voice got even more gravelly. 

“The letter C .” Jason answered another riddle that didn’t feel like a piece to the puzzle. It was more like the Riddler was stalling for time because they’d progressed faster than he anticipated. “What’s the next damn riddle?”

“My, you needn’t be so hasty,” the Riddler chidded. “You see a boat filled with people, yet there isn’t a single person on board. How is that possible?”

“They’re actually mannequins? No, the people are people, but not a single person,” Phantom mumbled before shouting, “Oh! They’re polyamorous.” At the same time Jason answered, “They’re married.”

“...Okay, but my answer still counts. They’re not single if they’re in a polyamorous relationship,” Phantom argued.

“...Correct…” the Riddler stated. “You know I think I preferred your enthusiasm versus your companion’s… creativity.”

“Make better riddles,” Phantom goaded. “Ones that don’t have more than one answer.”

 It was subtle beneath his domino mask, but the Riddler’s eye definitely twitched. His smile was pinched as he took a slow breath, mentally preparing himself for the ghost king’s next remarks. “Shall we move onto the next riddle or should I detonate the bombs?”

“Give us the fucking riddle,” Jason said.

“I have branches, but no fruit, trunk or leaves,” the Riddler listed. “What am I?”

Phantom didn’t even have time to think over his guess when Jason fired his grappling hook, launching himself back out the window. The Ghost King eventually caught up to him. Before he could ask, Jason said, “He’s targeting the CEO of Gotham Bank.”

“Not that I doubt you, but are you sure?” Phantom asked as he flew beside him.

“The answer was bank, and that guy was bragging about going on a couple’s cruise with his new wife that’s more than half his age,” Jason recounted. “One of my informants was complaining about it,” he added. He really didn’t need Bruce getting on his ass about slip ups and giving out information that could be used to figure out who was behind the helmet. 

“So he’s not waiting at the bank, he’s kidnapping a banker ,” Phantom repeated. 

“Yes.”

“Wild.” 

“Can you get me to Gotham Harbor?” Jason asked.

“I can get you to the water, yeah, where though, like specifically? Because that’s not exactly a small space. Or, if you’re okay with it, I can carry you while I fly over until we find the right boat.”

“If my com’s weren’t down, Oracle could tell us where the boat was located.”

“I can fix that for you, but I would need access to your comm, and I don’t think you’d let me, so, uh, sorry. Ghostly interference and all,” Phantom said, tearing open a few portals. 

“I will not,” Jason agreed. Tim would probably figure it out eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later if the High King was planning on continuing these visits. “Most cruises around Gotham are day cruises that only last an hour or two and they do a loop around the harbor while rich asshats party together.”

Danny peered through a few portals, finding the ocean again and again in different spots, but empty all the same. There was something about Gotham harbor that was unsettling. Probably the amount of joker gas and other unholy substances that got washed in by the rain or purposely dumped into its waters. The only fish swimming around down there were blob ghost adjacent. He could just barely make out a few tiny cores swimming here and there. No shark ghosts, weirdly enough. 

Danny picked Red Hood up by the armpits and flew through one of the portals where he could still see the pier. If they did a loop, flying around, curved from there should get them there. “Let me know if I’m flying too fast for you,” Danny said as he scanned the water. 

“Not my first time with a speedster,” Red Hood remarked. Which was weird since metas weren’t “allowed” in Gotham, and Red Hood worked in Gotham, but maybe he sometimes traveled? “Didn’t know that was one of your powers.”

“I don’t usually think about it,” Danny admitted. “Oh! A boat! Is that it or are there other cruises?”

“One way to find out,” Red Hood stated. 

When they landed on the cruise ship, Danny dropped Red Hood who, very unnecessary, tucked and rolled. It was a very gentle landing with a perfect descent, thank you very much. The deck was quiet, some trash scattered around, some spilled drinks and broken glasses, but no people in the pool, under chairs. Standing on the vessel made it easier to notice they weren’t moving either, at least not in the way ships should. The current was dragging it along, but the engine was off. 

“I think this is the right cruise,” Danny commented. “Did everyone abandon ship?”

“Life boats are still here. They’re either in their rooms or hostages inside the main lounge area,” Red Hood said, refilling his gun with a fresh set of, hopefully rubber, bullets. 

“Lounge feels more his style,” Danny said, going invisible and popping his head through the wall. There were five goons dressed in green suits covered head to toe in purple question marks. People were on the ground, cowering as the goons walked around clutching their guns. The stock of the gun was curved like a question mark as well. Man really stuck with his theme. 

Danny popped back out and made himself visible before saying, “Five, armed. Didn’t see the Riddler.”

“He prefers to puppet,” Red Hood commented, pulling what looked like an explosive out of his bag. Upon closer inspection, it was, in fact, a grenade. 

“If we’re blowing our way inside, I’d recommend this section of the wall where there are no people nearby,” Danny suggested, and just as Red Hood was about to throw the grenade, Danny added, “Or I could drop you from the roof.” 

His finger was still in the pin as he hesitated. “Next time,” he finally stated before pulling it and lobbing it where Danny instructed. 

The explosion peeled the metal frame, creating a hole in the side for them to go through, and Red Hood ran in guns a-blazing. 

The goons fired back, but not with bullets. Green beams shot out and Danny instinctively threw up a shield. There was ecto-energy blasting out of their guns. He could guestimate their level of impact based on how his shield absorbed them. It’d probably give a living person a minor burn, and vaporize a blob ghost. For Danny it’d probably only be a nasty sting, but he wasn’t going to test that. Danny pointed his finger and shot each gun out of their hands, effectively breaking each weapon. 

The hostages screamed as lasers and bullets were traded across the room, but they were smart enough to stay down and out of the line of fire. Once he’d broken the guns, Danny surveyed the room again. Everyone seemed relatively unharmed, just scared and a few bruises here and there. They calmed down when Red Hood shot the last goon in the dick. The poor guy folded like origami. 

Red Hood restrained the goons with cuffs. Who kept five pairs of handcuffs on them? How big were his pockets? 

“Where’s the banker guy?” Danny wondered aloud.

“Gone already, I’m afraid,” the Riddler stated. “Sorry you missed the main event. How are you enjoying the afterparty?” 

Red Hood and Danny whipped around to see a drone flying in through the hole they made. “It’s kinda boring,” Danny jeered. “I see why you skipped it.”

The Riddler was quiet for a moment, almost contemplating whether it was worth it to retort or not. In the end, he ignored Danny, choosing to move right along and grab a hefty, bald man way too old for a twenty-something bride who was tied up in rope. The Riddler asked, “Tell me, what can you break without touching it?”

“Wind! Someone’s spirit! No, it’s a riddle, I know this one— Silence!” Danny guessed only for Red Hood to say, “A promise.” 

Danny pursed his lips into a thin line, squinting as he folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, people don’t touch silence. Like, I get the promise thing now that you said it, but I’m not wrong,” he argued.

The Riddler carried on, “...And Mr. Nolan here promised Gotham prosperity, equal opportunities, and a path to success that nearly all Gothamites now know to be paved on tire spikes. I was reminded of my own dismay at the predatory interest rate on my first loan back when I still worked at Gotham University. Now things have gotten so outrageous there are even headlines about it! Contracts absolutely littered with loopholes. You know, I find loopholes to be the antithesis of riddles.”

Red Hood was quiet, but that might have been due to the heads in the duffle bag thing when he was still on bad ghost juice. He didn’t really have a leg to stand on if he tried to argue the moral high ground. And the banker was a rich jerk.

“That doesn’t mean you kidnap and ransom the guy,” Danny stated, crossing his arms over his chest. He could have just robbed him, or the bank. 

“I don’t want a ransom,” the Riddler remarked, slamming his cane against the side of the banker’s face, knocking him to the ground. He flopped around like a fish out of water, struggling against the ropes. “Some of us care about things besides money,” the Riddler said, his face suddenly turning cold and apathetic. The drone went dark.  

Then Red Hood shot the drone down before it could fly away. 

Jason cursed under his breath. “Fuck. He’s gonna kill him,” he muttered. “They better not give me shit for this.” The others must have caught wind of Riddler’s game by now. Oracle was going to bitch at him for going offline with all the interference, but she should really be pissed at Tim for not figuring out how to fix his com by now. 

King Phantom was floating around, scooping up the scattered pieces of metal that once were the guns Riddler’s goons were touting. 

“There’s not going to be any riddles on the guns,” Jason stated.

“That’s not why I’m collecting them,” Phantom remarked, piling the debris over the drone Jason had shot down. “This is all I need,” Phantom said, reaching through a portal and retrieving a metal boomerang. An actual boomerang; it wasn’t sleek, but bulky and electronic for whatever reason. Phantom stated, “I know how to find them.”

“...Sure.” Jason really hoped Oracle had found Riddler and the others were dealing with him as the ghost in front of him fiddled with the settings on his boomerang. 

“I can’t see your face, but I feel like you’re making a face. It’s not even weird. Your coworkers use bat-shaped boomerangs all the time.”

“That’s because bats are just shaped like that. And they’re not as bulky as yours,” Jason retorted. “What are you planning on doing with that thing anyway?”

“I’ve locked onto Technus’ ecto-signature, so now,” Phantom said, throwing the device. He picked Jason up by his armpits and lifted him off the ground, phasing through the wall and flying after it. “We just have to follow that to him, and if I’m right, your riddle boy should be with him. We save the banker. All is well!” 

“How can you be sure it’s him? Or that they’re together.”

“Technus is the only ghost I know who’d be able to make the Riddler’s drone see me. Like with your communicator, I naturally give off ghostly interference, but if something has been made to be compatible with ecto-energy, then the signals stop interfering. Technus and I are the only two ghosts that really play with that kind of tech. At least, if there is another ghost, they haven’t made themselves very well known.”

“...Right..” 

They flew over Gotham’s waters, steadily approaching the Tricorner. The island was the most southern point of the city. If the Riddler was going to take anyone “down” it was a good place to do it.

The building they flew to was some old warehouse, once used for manufacturing until it was closed down. There was a thick layer of grime on the brick, but as they flew inside, it was bright, dusted, and noisy. There were a few generators hooked up to power everything since there was no way anyone was paying the electricity bill for this place. 

Mechanical arms moved around, assembling more drones while someone supervised. Someone who could fly. The boomerang hit him in the back of the head. “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing the place of impact. He turned around, saying, “Who threw— oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Danny replied.

Technus was back to looking like his 2.0 phase, a taller and more well-fit version of himself with legs instead of a ghostly tail. His green skin contrasted the white, combed mullet he sported. He had a few new, green buttons trailing down his long black coat that matched his green gloves. There something was sticking out of his coat pocket. He ditched the chunky, black belt, but kept his silver-grey cape that draped over his shoulders and down to his black boots. 

“Who’s he supposed to be?” Red Hood questioned.

“I am Technus! Master of all things mechanical! Wizard of integrated security! And destroyer of worlds!”

“Sounds like Red Robin,” Hood commented under his breath.

“Sounds like you’re breaking my rule,” Danny remarked dryly, eyes flashing green.

“No! No, no no, I haven’t broken any decrees. I’m being helpful!” Technus argued, losing that confident stance as he pleaded his case. “ And I haven’t hurt any living beings!”

Danny rolled his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “You’re helping a villain . A villain who is hurting the living . Why would you even want to? Isn’t your intellect too high for this kinda thing? Or whatever.” His rogues should not be mixing with Batman rogues. They were clearly bad influences on each other. 

“I was exploring some of the robotics that are sprinkled around the city and found his drones. While I was in one, I followed it back to his base, saw his plan, and I decided to aid this human in his endeavors. His intellect is almost as high as my own. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to have a conversation among a peer that doesn’t also have cheeto dust on his fingers.” Technus wrinkled his nose, shuddering in disgust.

“You’re lucky no one got hurt. I’m adding this whole incident to my rules now since you all seem so intent to find loopholes. If you help someone cause harm or threaten to cause harm to humanity for any ill intent, you’re breaking my law, and I won’t be so forgiving next time,” Danny warned, his eyes glowing more intently as he tried to reel his anger back. There were so many bombs. So many people could have been hurt!

“Only the first one was real, and no living being was near it. I made sure of that when I checked the area myself. The rest were merely distractions filled with water and food coloring to keep these heroes busy,” Technus defended. “Convincing distractions, but harmless, nonetheless.”

“What? Fake? Why would he do that?” Danny questioned.

“Why waste good components when a farce is equally as effective?” Technus retorted. 

“I guess,” Danny begrudgingly agreed. “What about the laser gun? You made those weapons for Riddler’s goons!”

Technus rolled his eyes. “That only harms ghosts. That doesn’t break your rule.”

“New rule, no arming the living against the dead. We don’t need another GIW,” Danny stated firmly. 

Technus grimaced. “I concede your point.”

“And what about the banker?” Danny asked.

“Please, CEO’s aren't even human, so that shouldn’t count against me. Have you seen the predatory loans Gotham Bank has been handing out? The interest rate is more criminal than anything I've ever done!” Technus argued. 

“Yeah? Well, if it happens again, I'll let Walker be the judge of that. And the guy’s still a living thing! I said living, not human! That includes aliens and CEOs,” Danny  said, reaching into his chest to retrieve the Fenton Thermos. “You’re getting souped.” He uncapped the device, firing the beam directly at Technus. “Man, I could’ve checked out the museum.”

“You never let me have fun anymore!” Technus bemoaned as he struggled against the pull before inevitably being forced inside the thermos.

Danny put the cap back on. “So that’s one down. Where’s yours?” he asked.

“You didn’t open a portal. Where did that come from?” Red Hood asked.

“What? The thermos? My body’s made up of ectoplasm, so I can store things inside it,” he explained as he put the thermos back into his chest cavity. “Part of the reason you can’t do the same stuff as me. You still have a real body.”

“You know what? I’ll take that as a good thing,” Red Hood remarked. “Who’s Walker?”

“Prison warden of the Ghost Zone. He's a jerk and everyone hates him.”

“Good or bad thing?”

“I mean, he arrested me when I first turned ghost for accidentally entering his section of the Ghost Zone when I was trying to get something I lost through the portal, and he sentenced me to a thousand years in his prison. I was locked up with all of my rogues, so that sucked, until we temporarily teamed up to cause a prison riot and escape.”

“When you first turned? He locked up a lost teenager?”

“ Yup ,” Danny said, popping the P.

“I’ll go ahead and say bad, then.”

The doors to the stairwell burst open as a dozen or so goons poured out, each armed with a laser gun. Red Hood picked a few of them off before diving behind one of the big generators for cover. It was going fine until the doors to the floor opened up with even more of these guys. One almost got the jump on Hood, but he pistol whipped him, knocking him out. 

Danny was shooting down each of the guns, but that was all. Once they were out of anti-ghost weaponry, they seemed to have some kind of physical weapon, be it a baton or a knife. 

Danny floating above the scene as Hood shot, punched, and kicked their butts. “Should I help with any of the actual fighting or is that breaking one of your rules? I’ve heard Batman doesn’t like other heroes fighting his villains. And, while I’m sorta retired, you know, still.”

“I’ll give you a pass,” Red Hood replied, shooting two goons in the kneecaps. “If B gives you shit for it, I’ll take the fall.”

Danny put a shield up as one of the guys came up behind Hood with a crowbar. It bounced off, leaving the guy open for Danny to punch him in the stomach. “I’m gonna hold you to that. He seems like the lecture type, and I don’t have all afterlife for that.”

“ That’s what you’re worried about?” Red Hood asked incredulously. 

“I’m being realistic here. No offense to the guy, but I’ve seen too much to be intimidated anymore. Besides he has ‘lecturing parent energy.’ Don’t know how else to describe it,” Danny explained, picking one of the goons up and tossing them into three more. “I think that’s called a turkey.”

“You and Spoiler would get along.” Red Hood said, shooting a rubber bullet into the side of a goon’s head. “Please never meet.”

“What? We’d be too powerful?” Danny joked, punching a guy into a wall. “Oops.”

“You’d annoy B into early retirement. Which Agent A might actually approve of, but Red Robin would burst a vein,” Red Hood remarked. When most of the goons were down, Danny left the rest up to Hood while he started bending together some metal fencing to make a cage. Hood shot any of the goons who tried to stop him. Once it was finished, he partially phased it into the ground so it wouldn’t break. Then, Danny scooped all of the Riddler’s goons up and placed them inside. 

He dusted his hands off. “That takes care of that,” Danny said with a grin.

“Anyone tell you your form is shit?” Hood remarked.

“I’m mostly self taught,” Danny replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Punching and kicking with super strength didn’t require that kind of training.

“It shows.” 

Danny rolled his eyes. “You know most people would just say ‘Thank you’ when someone joins a fight to help them out.”

“Not from my experience,” Hood retorted.

“Let’s get moving. Riddler’s gotta be up top,” Jason said as he ran for the stairs the goons had come from. He fired his grappling hook, bypassing the need to climb the stairs or be flown around again. Phantom was right behind him. “We need to get Nolan out of here.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that guy,” Phantom remarked.

The Riddler stood over the banker’s body. There were black and blue bruises poking out of his torn suit. “Do you really consider this man worth saving?” 

“No,” Jason stated. “He’s fucked over a lot of good people, so I hate that bitch too, but Batman would fucking nag me if I let you kill him.”

The Riddler quirked an eyebrow. “You think that’s all the Bat would do?”

“That’s all he ever fucking does,” Jason retorted.

“You two have a strange relationship,” the Riddler commented.

Jason laughed. “Tell me about it,” he said, shooting the Riddler’s hand. His cane flew out of his grasp as he hissed in pain. He closed the distance between them, taking a knee to the gut from the Riddler and returning the favor by pistol whipping him in the head.

Glass broke as both Batman and Robin crashed through the window right as Jason was putting a pair of handcuffs on the Riddler while Danny propped the banker up against a wall and checked on him. 

“Tsk.” Robin wrinkled his nose, seeing that the fight was over. 

“Hood, why did you turn your com and tracker off?” Batman questioned.

“I didn’t,” Jason replied, pointing to Phantom. “Someone needs to give it an upgrade to work around this guy.” Phantom gave them an awkward wave. 

“Is that the High King of the Infinite Realms?” Robin asked. 

“In the ectoplasm,” Phantom replied, shooting two finger guns. “No living flesh anymore.” 

“So you are dead?” Batman questioned, eyeing Phantom skeptically. 

“Very,” Danny chirped.  

Batman followed up with, “How did you die?” 

“Okay, piece of advice if you talk to any other ghosts, asking how someone died is a big no, no. Like, the worst question you could ask.”

“Are you going to answer the question?” Batman pressed.

Phantom wore a forced smile as he replied, “Absolutely not.” 

“Why are you here?” Batman interrogated.

Phantom’s smile became pinched. “Is this going to be a long thing?”

“I want to know if you’re a threat,” Batman stated, puffing out his chest to be big and intimidating.

“To what? You? Gotham? Myself? Because I’d say yes to one of those,” Phantom joked. “But, as much as I’d like to reassure you, I feel like that’d take a while, and Hood promised he’d take the fall, so I’m just gonna go.”

“Don’t—” Batman ordered, but Phantom disappeared, going intangible and flying through the roof. Bruce looked over at Jason, “Take the fall?”

Jason shrugged. “He didn’t want a lecture from you.”

“So this powerful High King is an imbecile?” Damian asked. 

“There’s a good chance of that,” Jason agreed. 

When Danny got home, he flew through the walls, landing on the ground before letting two white rings encompass his body as he switched back to his living form. Sam was in her reading nook and Tucker was upside down in the loveseat with his feet hanging over the back, eating beef jerky as the tv played.

“Hey Danny!” Tucker greeted, words muffled by the mouthful of jerky. He swallowed before asking “Did you hear about that CEO that got murdered?” 

“I just helped Red Hood save the CEO of Gotham bank, he’s fine,” Danny reassured them.

“No, it wasn’t in Gotham. It was over in New York. Some guy just walked up to the CEO of some healthcare, bang, bang!” Tucker said, mimicking finger guns. “Makes me glad Gotham rogues overcomplicate everything.” 

“Are you messing with me, or did that actually happen?” Danny questioned, turning to Sam. 

She nodded her head. 

Danny’s gaze flicked between the two of them. “How are you two so normal about finding out somebody died?”

“He was worse,” Tucker replied.

“I’m obviously against murder, but I’m not going to mourn a man responsible for killing thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of people by denying them the healthcare they’re paying for,” Sam stated. “It’s like if it happened to Vlad.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mourn that either,” Danny said, flopping down on the sofa in between his friends. 

“If he didn’t want to be killed, he should’ve been more like Brucie Wayne,” Tucker remarked. “TikTok and Twitter are flooded with memes like ‘How Bruce Wayne sleeps knowing he basically fully funds all of Gotham’s hospitals, orphanages, and provides the most scholarships to Gotham University and hires the most newly grads.’ It’s him, the Costco CEO that threatened to kill someone for trying to raise the price of hotdogs, and the Arizona Tea guy. On the other hand, a lot of Lex Luthor memes are saying he’s sweating right now.”

“I’m not a bad king, am I?” Danny wondered aloud, looking at his thermos that still held Technus inside. “I don’t want them hurting people, but I want them to be happy too.”

“There’s gotta be some happy medium,” Tucker suggested. 

Danny uncapped the thermos, freeing Technus. The ghost reconstituted himself. “Ugh, it is awful in that thing! And it smells like chilli.” 

Danny and Sam both turned to Tucker.

“What? It’s a really good thermos!” he defended.

“I won’t send you back to the zone. You can hang around Gotham if you really want to, but you have to swear to me you won’t help any more villains. You can do basically anything else! Is that fair?” Danny offered. 

“I might be able to find some other mind to mentor,” Technus conceded. 

“What if they become a villain after Technus’ influence?” Tucker asked. 

After a moment of deliberation, Danny concluded, “I’d prefer they didn’t, but if they didn’t start as a villain I won’t hold it against you unless you make a habit of it.”

Technus grinned, “This I can work with!” he said before flying through the walls, off to sait his obsession.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Sam asked.

“Nope,” Danny replied, sinking back into the couch and using his powers to float the remote over to himself, flipping through the channels. 

Chapter Text

Jason carded his fingers through his hair, helmet sitting in his lap as he leaned back into the plush leather passenger seat of the batmobile while Damian sulked in the backseat because he, once again, did not call shotgun. Rules were rules. Bruce was thankfully done grilling him and now sat in silence behind the wheel. 

The road came to an end and upon detecting the batmobile’s presence, the hill opened up, revealing one of the underground tunnels that led to the bat cave. The OLED lights illuminated the damp cave walls as they winded down the unnecessarily curvy tunnel. When they finally made it to the cave, a family of bats got disturbed and flew off. Water dripped from the stalactites. Bruce really needed to invest in a big dehumidifier. 

Alfred was sitting at the batcomputer, which was a surprise, but not unheard of. The only problem with this picture was that no one was voicing any concerns for the glowing ball of snot curled up in Alfred’s lap. 

“What the f—” Jason stopped himself as Alfred gave him a look. “What is that?” he corrected. 

“You don’t even recognize your own son,” Steph said, shaking her head as she chided him for whatever problem she most definitely caused. “What kind of father are you?”

Jason sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the situation was, unfortunately, the same. He pleaded, “Can someone else explain what’s going on?”

“From what I heard,” Dick said cautiously, which was never a great start, especially for something Steph was involved in. “Some chemical was spilled on one of your blood samples, and that creature was the result,”

“Your own kin,” Steph remarked. “Can’t believe you couldn’t see the resemblance.” 

“Why—?” Jason started before stopping himself. He pressed his hand to his face as a headache was starting to pound in his skull. “Alfred, why is… it, in your lap.”

Alfred stated, very matter-of-factly, “He doesn’t like being left alone.”

The tiny green creature tucked itself further into Alfred’s arms. It kept facing them, baring its teeth, a warning if they got closer it would use them. It was scared. New to this world, and judging by the “ghost hunter” gear spread around, already being tested on before Alfred came to its rescue. 

It wasn’t like he felt a connection to it. The little guy might have had his blood, his tainted blood, but if that chemical was made of ectoplasm, and Phantom’s ectoplasm cured him, then it was probably fine. The thing certainly didn’t act like he had during a pit rage. With the way it almost melted into Alfred’s hand as he soothed it, it was more of a lap dog. 

Steph chimed in, “Baby J’s tried to run away from literally everyone except Alfred.” She held up her bandaged hand and wiggled her fingers, “Also Little Jay bites.”

Jason smirked, “Maybe he is mine.” 

“Aren’t you guys being a bit too relaxed about all of this?” Duke asked as he made his way down the stairs, still dressed in pajamas and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“I’ve had too much weird shi—” Jason caught himself as Alfred gave him the look. “ Experiences to get worked up over this. It doesn’t look evil, at least.”

“Which is weird because it was made with your old blood, so you’d think ,” Steph remarked, unfazed by the glowering gaze of everyone in the room except Cass. Steph carried on, “But whatever was in that chemical dejecto-whatever seems to have stabilized your pit water and turn it into a living blob.”

Dick crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Why would ghost hunters create a substance like that?”

“A mistake?” Cass hypothesized. 

“Might have been a bad batch,” Steph agreed, slowly reaching her finger closer to the blob. When it was within range, it snapped at her. She reeled her hand back. “Baby J, just let me love you,” she whined.

Alfred soothed the creature, gently stroking its head. 

“And we’re sure it’s not evil?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, on a scale from one to ten, how sure are we that it doesn’t grow into Jason’s evil clone?” Duke questioned. 

“Quite certain,” Alfred retorted with a roll of his eyes. “He’s a scared child, nothing more.”

Jason watched the creature snuggle into Alfred’s stomach, almost purring as the man pet him. He wanted to get closer, see what the thing really was, but he wasn’t about to get his fingers bitten in front of Steph. He’d try later. 

He walked over to Duke and asked, “Hey, do our shadows look weird to you?”

“Weirder than normal?” Duke said, looking at Jason closely, then everyone else. “No.”

Jason confirmed, “But they’re weird.”

“Compared to, like, a normal person, yeah. But they always look like that. I figured it was part of the whole dark knight thing.”

Jason knew damn well none of the others knew about it either but said, “Well, I can only speak for myself, but I didn’t until the Ghost King told me about Lady Gotham.”

“ Lady Gotham?” Bruce questioned.

“Apparently, she’s the city spirit,” Jason stated. “And before you ask, not the same thing as a ghost.”

“What’s the difference?” Steph asked.

“Don’t really know. The King’s not great at explaining things. I just know she’s not a ghost. She’s always with us. Makes our shadows darker so we can hide better.”

“So… she’s like our guardian angel?” Dick asked.

“Can anything Gotham be angelic?” Steph wondered aloud.

“She’s got a lot of personality. More Gothamite than angelic I’d say,” Duke remarked. “Like that. She flipped me off.”

“Hnng…” Bruce grumbled, taking in the new “threat.”

Steph snorted, fighting a fit of giggles as Duke sighed. Steph remarked, “I love her already.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m her favorite,” Jason said, smirking as his siblings' heads all turned to him.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred scolded. 

Dick immediately had his tail between his legs, apologizing, “Sorry Alfred.”

“But it is BS,” Steph stated. Cass nodded beside her. 

“No guys, I think he’s right, though. The shadows are more, uh, clingy with him than anyone else— Okay, wow, rude.”

“What?” Dick asked. 

Duke replied, “They just flipped me off again.”

“Woah, the shadows really are Gotham,” Steph remarked. “Who else gets that offended when showing emotion?”

“What could possibly qualify you to be the city's favorite?” Damian questioned.

Jason shrugged. “Grew up on the streets, and she is the streets.”

Damian wrinkled his nose, but didn’t argue with him. 

The room got quiet. A beat too quiet. He did not have it in him to deal with whatever somber bullshit everyone was thinking. Jason decided to stir the pot. “She’s also the one who brought me back from the dead,” he commented. 

Suddenly, there was a lot of noise. And questions. So many questions.

Danny sat on the edge of his bed, phone in his hands as he hunched over at the screen. “Hey, I got pretty lost around Gotham the other day. Could use a tour,” Danny typed. “Ugh, no that's lame. I gotta—” he muttered to himself as his thumb missed the backspace and hit send. “No, no, no , NO!” Danny shouted, flying through the wall. Tucker was sitting on the couch playing a video game with his headset on. Danny flew in front of the screen.

“Hey!” Tucker exclaimed.

Danny’s words practically stuck together as he quickly said, “Tuck, I need you to hack my phone and delete a text, now.”

“Man, I’m in the middle of a boss fight! I can't pause. Give me a minute,” Tucker said, leaning to look around Danny to see the tv screen.

“Now, Tucker! I'm going to ruin my chances with that hot guy!”

“ Oh, I got you!” he said, pulling his headset off and taking the phone out of Danny’s hands. He connected a cable from his tablet to Danny’s phone, using his stylus to navigate. “Let’s see, we just need to get into the messaging app, go over to his receipts. Almost there, just need a second to — and he texted back.”

Danny let himself fall face first into the couch, muttering, “Kill me again, and make it stick this time.”

“Are you sure, because he asked what time he should pick you up,” Tucker remarked. 

“Gimmie that!” Danny said, turning to snatch the phone from Tucker’s grasp.

Tucker grunted as he fell back into the couch. “Oof, being single has made you feral.”

“Shut up,” Danny retorted.

“He’s always been feral,” Sam pointed out as she walked into their communal area and pulled a kombucha out of the fridge. “Have you seen the way he crawls up the walls to dust?”

“Yeah, and he spins his head around to check all the angles. Makes my neck hurt,” Tucker commented as he put his headset back on and started playing his game again, tuning out his friends.

“What time? What time? He wants to know what time? After class? How long do dates last? If it’s more than an hour, that’ll be too late to be walking around Gotham. We’ll get mugged! Or I’ll get mugged and have to find the guy later to get my stuff back. I should pick a day I don’t have class, so we can go sooner. But what if he works on the days when I have no classes?”

“You won’t know until you ask,” Sam remarked. 

“Why is this stuff so hard?” Danny complained. “How soon is too soon? I have classes tomorrow. But like, if I say we should go two days from now is that too soon or too late? And should we meet up in the morning? People don’t like waking up. But is noon too early and is 2pm too late? Ugh!”

“Noon is fine. Just ask if he’s free two days from now,” Sam stated. “Or give me the phone and I’ll do it for you.” She held her hand out.

“I can do it!” Danny insisted, holding his phone away from her. He floated up to the ceiling, crossing his legs as he sat in the air, staring at his phone screen. “I don’t have any classes two days from now. Does that work for you? And is noon a good time?” He hit send.

Jason texted back almost instantly, “Perfect. Do you want me to pick you up? Or meet somewhere.” 

“Do I want him to pick me up or meet him somewhere?” Danny asked.

Sam said, “Meet up somewhere. You don’t know if he’s crazy or not, so don’t bring him home yet. Besides, if you panic, you can just leave without him worrying about driving you home.”

“I like the escape plan,” Danny agreed. “Should I suggest where to meet?”

“No, let him pick,” she replied.

“Okay,” Danny said, letting out a sigh as he typed up, “Where do you want to meet up?”

“Yes! Beat the boss!” Tucker cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “Take that alien scum!” He took off his headphones and looked up at Danny. “You good?” 

Jason texted back, “Depends, do you want a tour of Gotham top to bottom or just the best spots?”

“He keeps giving me choices!” Danny shouted, tugging at his hair. “Can he stop being considerate and just decide for me?”

“Uno reverse card him. Tell him he’s the expert. You don’t know where to start,” Tucker stated. 

Danny texted him, “You’re the expert. You tell me?”

“Did he reply?” Sam asked.

“He sent me a map link to a coffee shop and said we’ll start there,” Danny said, grinning as he let himself spin in the air, kicking his feet. “I did it!”

“Congrats,” Sam said dryly.

“Knew you could do it, man,” Tucker remarked, fist-bumping him once he floated back down to the couch. 

“Mr. Wayne! We are honored to have you here!” Quincy Sharp was the warden of Arkham Asylum. He was balding. The little hair he had left was gray, clinging to the back of his head. He had a stout frame, and wore a blue suit with a white dress shirt, red tie, and matching flower pinned to his chest. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I must thank you again. This project is so important to the safety of Gotham. Blackgate just isn’t capable of housing these criminals. They need to be rehabilitated.”

“It was really all orchestrated by Tim. I’m just here to see how things are going,” Bruce remarked.

“And I would love to show you! My staff here are working day and night to keep this mission going. Our guards have undergone training to avoid any further escapes, while our doctors are working to help them become functioning members of society! And with your help, Arkham Asylum will truly be a place with impenetrable security. The everyman of Gotham will be able to rest easily knowing that these criminals are safely locked away.”

“The safety of Gotham is my top priority,” Bruce commented. 

In addition to heavily upgrading Arkahm’s security system, it was now linked directly to Oracle without the need to hack into their mainframe. The cell doors were sturdier and closed faster. There were more cameras installed to avoid blindspots, though some were intentionally left in for him to use. They were very small, almost impossible to spot if you didn’t know they were there. 

Sharp led him back to his office. While they were walking, one of the other rooms had its door open. Sharp stopped in front of it and peered inside. “Oh, let me introduce you to one of our newest psychiatrists, Penelope Spectra.” Sharp said, gesturing for her to come over. “She has only been here a few short months, but she is really making big breakthroughs!”

“You flatter me,” Dr. Spectra said as she walked over to them. The new doctor was a tall, beautiful, slender and pale woman with green eyes and red hair with bright orange highlights, kept in a hairstyle that resembled devil horns. She wore a white lab coat over her red business shirt and matching pencil skirt paired with black kitten heels. She accessorized with triangle-shaped dark purple dangle earrings.

“My, aren’t you particularly stunning,” Bruce complimented with practiced ease. A little flattery usually lets people’s guards down. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.

“And aren’t you charming,” Dr. Spectra remarked.

Her doctorate was framed on the wall along with a few other generic paintings, all perfectly level. Everything was dusted, even the fire extinguisher. 

Her desk was meticulously organized with only a handful of personal items placed alongside standard office supplies. There was a small, cardboard dessert box next to her stapler.  

“Sweet tooth?” Bruce asked.

“Hmm? Oh, the fudge,” she acknowledged. “Yes, I still get… cravings, from time to time. Would you like to try some? It’s from a local bakery.”

“Thank you, but I’ll pass,” Bruce politely declined. 

There was also an unmarked bottle of perfume on her desk. The thick glass was faded black, hiding the exact shade of green of the liquid inside. 

“I’ve never seen that brand before. What is it?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s not a name brand. Certainly nothing good enough for you to give any of the ladies who hang on your arms,” Spectra said with a practiced smile. “You know, with your busy schedule and being a father to so many children, I’m surprised you were able to come here today. It’s very admirable of you. So many parents feel like their work causes them to neglect their kids. It is so hard to find a balance these days. Most can’t even take their children to school because of their conflicting schedules.”

“I’ve taken Damian to school,” Bruce said, startled by how compelled he felt to suddenly justify himself. 

“And it is just so incredible you are able to do that and take the fatherly role to so many other children as well as your own flesh and blood,”

“They’re all my kids.”

“Yes, and raising all of them as a single father is a feat. Two parents would normally struggle to devote equal time to caring for that many children, but here you are, doing all on your own! It’s easy to see why you’re Gotham’s prince. You’re not just rich, but you also have a heart of gold.”

It was only the years of training that kept his smile plastered on his face. He loved his kids equally. There weren’t always enough hours in the day to make sure he divided his time between his children but he made sure to do something with each of them. He took Damian on patrol, he worked on a case with Tim, he went to Cass’s ballet recital, he and Dick… what did they do recently? The last time it was just the two of them was probably weeks ago, but he was mainly in Bludhaven now. He was back to check on Jason, but that was due to the recent development. And Jason — 

“Yes, old Brucie is what keeps Gotham running! Well, him and the Bat, but that guy just brings them here, it’s Wayne Enterprises that keeps them here. These new security upgrades will stop any escape attempts before they begin,” Sharp said confidently. 

Bruce snapped out of his downward spiral and chirped, “Oh, you flatter me too much. It’s the bright minds that work at Wayne Enterprises that should get the thanks. I just write the check,” he joked.

“No, we really don’t thank you enough! You’ve done so much work for this city, Mr. Wayne. Really, these kinds of improvements will help keep families safe from criminals— Oh, I’m sorry, was that a touchy subject? I didn’t mean to cause you any discomfort.”

“It’s alright,” he said, forcing himself to remain polite.  

“Your parents, your son —”

Bruce’s smile strained. Losing his parents had turned him into the Batman, but losing Jason had turned him into a monster. It ruined him. He was a husk before Tim came along to knock some sense into his head. Jason, his son, dying so young . It was his fault. It was—

There was a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been through more hardship than any person deserves,” Penelope consoled him. 

Sharp coughed into his fist, getting their attention before saying, “Let’s change the subject, Dr. Spectra.”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed. 

There was a knock on the door behind them. A short man with grey hair and mustache, green eyes, dressed in a butler-like outfit was standing in the doorway, holding a steaming paper cup. “Your cappuccino, Dr. Spectra.”

“Who’s this?” Bruce asked.

“Bertrand is my assistant,” Dr. Spectra stated. 

The man made no attempt to hide his contempt and said, “Yes, were you almost done Dr. Spectra, your drink is getting cold.”

“We’ll be on our way,” Sharp said, ushering Bruce out of the room, subtly shooting Bertrand a glare while trying to remain pleasant. “Why don’t we finish this conversation in my office?”

“That sounds great!” Bruce replied with his rehearsed smile. 

Chapter Text

Duke ran across the rooftops. Firing his grappling hook, he swung across the Gotham skyline. He was dawned in his yellow-plated armor with a reflective bat insignia emboldened on his chest. His bat-eared helmet was snug against his face, only exposing his mouth. The yellow of it was contrasted by the black bat that formed a sudo-domino mask around his eyes. 

“You’re approaching the target location, get ready,” Oracle said. 

“Is the target there yet?” Duke asked as he sprinted and leapt towards a building that was across from Jason’s third favorite coffee shop. The view from the rooftop allowed him to see in through the cafe’s windows. The lunch rush was certainly in full swing, but this cafe wasn’t wrapping around any street corners. It was too hole-in-the-wall to get that kind of attention, but it did have people going in and out. They needed to secure those window seats before they were all taken up.

“No, he still has a minute left before he’s officially late,” Jason replied, leaning up against his motorcycle as he paid for his parking spot in front of the cafe. “Calm down. This place always has at least one table available. And the owner loves me, so she reserved one for me when I said I was bringing a date.” 

“I thought they didn't have reservations here?” Oracle commented.

“They don’t,” Jason stated. “She piled a bunch of boxes into a booth that she’s gonna move once we get our drinks.”

Duke crouched down to avoid being spotted by onlookers as he scanned the street for his target. It was weird spying on Jason, especially Jason’s date. It was personal, too personal. Even if it was for gathering information and technically wasn’t a real date. But it was also a date. 

Jason was on his phone, fully aware of his surroundings, but pretending not to be. The shadows that clung to him started to pull back. That was something Duke had never seen before. They were constantly on him, wrapping around him like a blanket. Now, they were still there, but watching from a distance. 

If the shadows really were Lady Gotham, why would she suddenly be backing off of Jason? Duke looked down at his own shadow, one that was darker than the other Gothamites. So, Lady Gotham was with him. Her power didn’t seem to dwindle. So why—?

Green light, stronger than the dim emissions Jason gave off, but less than his weird little blob clone. Danny was like a faded glow stick. As he drew closer, Lady Gotham seemed to inch back. Was she giving Jason some privacy for his date, or did she not like Danny. There was no way she was scared of him, because that’d just make her cling to Jason even more. Could she be repelled by the light he was emitting? If that was true, why didn’t she get repelled by Jason or his clone? 

Danny, for his part, looked like any other college student lost in Gotham, staring at his phone for directions, occasionally glancing up to see where he was going. He was wearing a white polo shirt with navy slacks, probably one of the nicer outfits in his wardrobe. He almost walked past the cafe if Jason wasn’t there to grab his attention. 

As Jason and Danny exchanged pleasantries, Jason slipped his hand into Danny’s backpack without him noticing and pulled something out. As they walked towards the cafe’s door, Jason casually dropped them. “Oh, these fell out of your bag,” he said as he bent down to pick them up. 

“Oh, thanks. I could have sworn I zipped it up,” Danny said as Jason dropped them into his hand.

“What are they? Knock off airpods?” Jason asked. 

“They’re Fenton Phones,” Danny replied naturally before tensing after processing what he just said.

“Fenton? Like your name?” Jason asked casually.

“Only technically. My parents are inventors. They like to name things after themselves, so their name, which is also mine,” Danny explained. Poor guy sounded nervous. Based on everything Tim had in the batcave, his parents made some weird shit.

This was karma for not cleaning out his backpack. He shouldn’t have even taken his backpack. It was just instinctual. Leave the condo, make sure he had his bag with him. He really messed up. At least of all the things his parents had made, the Fenton Phones were almost normal.

“So, they make airpods?” Jason asked. 

“Kinda? Among other things…” Danny replied, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“What makes these special?”

“They filter out spectral noise.”

Jason raised an eyebrow as he asked, “Spectral noise?”

“Uh, I mean they’re really good at blocking interference.” It was so weird talking to someone who didn’t already know how weird his parents were and wasn’t completely unfazed by ghosts. Like, sure Gotham was weird too, but it was weird in a much more normal way than Amity was. It almost made him homesick. Almost.

“Uh-huh.” Jason replied. 

Thankfully, he didn’t ask anymore questions, because Danny was about ready to cut his losses and run home before he could embarrass himself any further. ‘ Nice going, Fenton. Your first date in college and you’ve already brought ghosts into it.’ He mentally scolded himself.

Jason held the door open for Danny because he was a gentleman, fuck what any of the others said. They waited in line for about twenty minutes, giving Danny time to look at the menu. His fingers drummed against his leg, probably a nervous tick of his. His face was still slightly rosy from when Jason had flustered him about his ghost headphones. He might need to steal them so he could fix his damn helmet. 

“Mrs. Rossi, good to see you,” Jason greeted. 

The older woman had dark, dyed hair styled in a teased bouffant. She wore a red floral blouse paired with grey slacks. Her gold, chunky earrings matched her necklace and watch. She had about five gold rings on, the biggest being on her ring finger.

“Jason! Look at you. You’re so handsome. You look more handsome every time I see you! Have you been going to the gym? I can tell you’ve gotten stronger.” She didn’t give Jason any time to reply when her gaze shifted to Danny. “And who’s this fresh face? You’re gonna introduce us?”

“This is Danny. Danny, this is Mrs. Rossi. She makes the best Espressos and Cornetti in all of Gotham.”

“Damn right I do,” she laughed. 

“Nice to meet you,” Danny greeted with a little wave.

“Well aren’t you polite,” she commented. “Giovanni!” she shouted at a younger boy who was wearing an apron over his t-shirt and slacks. “Start moving those boxes!”

“Yes, Zia,” he replied. 

The pastry case was already half empty from the lunch rush, but judging by the smell in the air, there were more in the back to replace them. Inside the display case were Cannoli with crisp, tube-shaped shells filled with sweet, creamy ricotta filling coming out the ends which were dotted with chocolate chips. Sfogliatelle “lobster tail” pastries, Cornetto, which looked almost exactly like a croissant filled with jam, custard, or Nutella, and dusted with powdered sugar. And there were so many kinds of Biscotti: Classic Almond Biscotti, Double Chocolate Biscotti, Cherry-Almond Biscotti, Hazelnut Biscotti, Pistachio Biscotti, and, if the drink wasn’t enough, Espresso Biscotti.

Danny leaned over to whisper to Jason and ask, “What’s the difference between a cornetti and a croissant?” 

He was too scared to ask Mrs. Rossi and risk offending her. It was pretty cute. Jason smiled as he answered, “A cornetto has eggs in it, and cornetti is plural.”

“Right, thanks,” Danny said, ears turning red. 

“So, do we know what we want? It’s all good, so you can’t go wrong!” Mrs. Rossi declared.

“My usual, please,” Jason said.

“One Caffè Marocchino, Cherry-Almond Biscotti, and a Sfogliatella,” she recounted. 

“A Marocchino?” Duke echoed in his ear. “Isn’t that the one with cocoa in it?”

“He’s got a sweet tooth,” Barbara commented teasingly. 

“And what about you?” Jason asked, ignoring the two the best he could. It would be so much easier if they could go to another channel if they wanted to talk while he was trying to act normal. The last thing he needed was to get pissed off and Danny to think he was mad at him and not his dumb family. 

“Uh, I’ll get the Doppio,” Danny answered, taking his best swing at the pronunciation. It was certainly a valiant effort, though it fell short. “And a cornetto, please.” 

“Coming right up, darling,” Mrs. Rossi said, starting up the espresso machine. Her long acrylic nails did not slow her down or impair her in any way as she brewed their coffee and packaged up the pastries. “I threw in a few cannolis on the house, because you can’t come here without tryin’ ‘em.” She placed their items on the counter, and Jason paid before Danny had a chance to retrieve his wallet. 

She handed the bag of pastries to Danny and said, “Go get that table over there before someone snatches it from you.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Danny said, taking the desserts to their booth her nephew had cleared for them.

“C’mere,” Mrs. Rossi said, and Jason obliged, leaning over the counter. “Remember, you’re on a date, so don’t be eatin’ like a gavone,” she whispered. 

“I got the best table manners of any guy that comes in here,” he retorted.

“Yeah,” She agreed, patting his cheek. “But it’s a low bar.” 

Jason playfully rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the cannolis,” he said, dropping a few twenties into her tip jar.

“Stop that,” she scolded, smacking Jason’s shoulder. “Those were on the house! And they’re what’ll get you a ring on that finger, now go. You’re making the man wait,” she said, shooing Jason away. 

He grabbed their drinks and made his way over to the booth, sliding into the seat across from Danny. 

“Careful, she uses the strong stuff,” Jason warned, as he set the Doppio down in front of him. 

Danny took a tentative sip. “Oh, that’s good, but I could have five of these and not feel a thing,” Danny dismissed. 

“If that’s true, your caffeine intake’s almost as bad as my little brother’s,” Jason commented. 

“I think I’m allowed one vice,” Danny defended, pulling his cornetto out and trying a bite. 

“Only one? What? You don’t drink?”

“I’m 19,” Danny emphasized. 

“Yeah, so am I. But it’s Gotham . There are plenty of bars that don’t card.”

“...But it’s still illegal?”

Jason smiled, resting his chin in his hand. “I am going to corrupt your pure midwestern soul if you’re not careful.”

“I wanna go home,” Duke lamented.

“Here, here,” Oracle agreed. 

“I didn’t think I had that much of an accent,” Danny remarked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I have an ear for that sort of thing,” Jason easily dismissed without missing a beat. “How’s the cornetto?”

“Really good,” Danny stated. “I think I might like it more than croissants.”

“Mrs. Rossi will convert you,” Jason said, dipping his biscotti into his drink before taking a bite. Gotham might not be known for its food, but this was something special. 

As much as he enjoyed cannolis, they were never his go-to pastry. But, Mrs. Rossi was right, her cannolis were different. Something about them was just better. Maybe it was the filling. It was sweet, but not overly so, and it had something in it that added depth that he didn’t get from other cannolis. 

He might have enjoyed it a little too much because Danny said, “Uh, you got a little on your face.” Pointing to the edge of his lip. Now that he said it, Jason could feel the weight of the filling stuck to his face.

Jason wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb and licked the cream off. It didn’t go unnoticed the way Danny watched his movements until Jason said, “Thanks for letting me know.” 

Then Danny averted his gaze, replying, “Yeah, no problem.” 

After a little more small talk, Jason bridged the question, “So, is there anywhere in Gotham you haven’t been, but you know you’d like to see?”

“The museum,” Danny answered the most confidently he had all day.

“Good choice, but which one?” Jason asked. “The art museum or the science?”

“Honestly, I’d be happy to see either,” Danny replied.

“Then we’ll go to the art museum today and we can check out the science museum next time,” Jason said, resisting the urge to laugh when Danny immediately perked up at the second date. “Are you comfortable riding a motorcycle?”

“Yeah, I’ve ridden one before,” Danny replied. 

Duke readied his grappling hook as Jason put his helmet on Danny’s head, his civilian black motorcycle helmet. The red helmet stayed at home. Once Jason was on, Danny climbed on the back and the pair sped off and Duke was right on their tail.

“He’s not a very good liar,” Oracle remarked.

Duke commented, “And he’s so selectively observant. He noticed you called him midwestern without saying where he was from, but didn’t realize you were pickpocketing him.”

“He came from a small town. They probably didn’t have as much of a pickpocketing issue as Gotham,” Oracle remarked. “Jeez, you’re taking turns a little sharp there, Hood. Poor kid’s gonna fall off.” She followed along through the feed from the traffic cameras.

“He seems to be holding on pretty well, actually,” Duke remarked as he swung between buildings. 

Gotham traffic was a special kind of chaotic, because everyone wanted to get where they were going and they didn’t care about the people around them. They weren’t good at sharing the road, maintaining a safe distance between the vehicles in front of them, or using their turn signals. There was a reason most people walked or took the subway. Multiple actually, but it wasn’t just because it was cheaper. 

In the five miles it took to get  from the coffee shop to the museum, Jason almost got t-boned by a car running a red light, nearly rear ended by someone trying to run a red light, and the amount of people changing lanes that almost side swiped him was honestly more alarming than the last rogue attack. That was all normal, but what was weird was that parts of Danny seemed to glow a little more intently when they almost got sideswiped, but so did Jason’s arm and a small part of his handlebars when one car nearly hit them off the road. Was it Danny or Jason? Or something else entirely? He saw light differently, but it’d be nice if his powers came with a manual. 

They had to park in a parking garage and walk the rest of the way to the museum. Danny didn’t seem the least bit shaken up considering everything that happened. He was taking it better than Lady Gotham who, if he was interpreting the shadows correctly, was tossing and turning, wanting to go to Jason, but stopping herself. She was starting to circle them like a shark. 

“Should I go in the museum or stay out here?” Duke asked. 

“I think it would be better if— Hold that thought,” Oracle said. The clacking from her keyboard came through her mic. “Signal, we got a burglary on the East End. Gonna have to cut the recon short for now. Hood will handle it from here.”

“Got it. I’m on my way,” Duke stated. 

Danny walked alongside Jason, keeping pace with his as they crossed the street towards the museum. There were a few instances where he made parts of himself, Jason, and the bike intangible when the cars got a little too close for comfort. But overall, the ride was much smoother than any trip he’d taken with his parents, even with how everyone in Gotham seemed to take driving advice from his dad. And holding onto Jason was just, wow. 

“So, uh, do you know what they have here?” Danny asked, trying to distract himself and make small talk. 

“One of the museum’s sponsors talked someone into sending over Ancient Chinese artifacts and some paintings made by a few up-and-coming artists. They’re really advertising it, since it’s so rare.” 

“What’s so rare about it? Don’t museums normally do that sort of thing?”

“Most people don’t like sending us nice things because they're afraid a rogue will steal or destroy it,” Jason explained. “And it will be either stolen or destroyed. Gothamites like taking bets on which it’ll be.”

“What’s your bet?” Danny asked.

“Stolen with a few pieces destroyed in the process,” he replied. 

The exhibition, “Yin Yang: The Dual Nature of Reality," was certainly the highlight of the museum, with posters for it on the outside of the building, hoping to entice people inside. 

There was a stand outside of the museum selling magazines and newspapers. On the front cover there was a photo of Penelope Spectra and Quincy Sharp posing together in front of Arkham’s gates. The headline was Arkham’s newest Psychiatrist! A breath of fresh air or the next Harley Quinn?  

Danny stopped in his tracks when he spotted the paper, exclaiming, “Spectra?!” 

“You know her?” Jason asked. 

Right, he was on a date. Danny pursed his lips into a thin line. Why did he have to have such a big mouth? 

“Uh, no?” he said and Jason gave him a look that said he wasn’t buying it so Danny quickly added, “I mean, she was a guidance counselor at my old school for a few weeks. We’re not, like, friends. So, I wouldn’t say I know her.”

“A few weeks? What happened?”

Danny paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “...She left?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“...I— I mean, I don’t really know what happened with her and the school. It was—” Danny stammered, searching for any explanation that wasn’t “ She’s a ghost that I fought and defeated which is why she no longer works there ” because that was not something he needed to know.  

“It’s fine. I was just curious. You don’t have to try to explain it to me.” Jason said because, apparently, he was a saint taking pity on Danny before his head started spinning.

“So the new Arkham Psychiatrist got fired from a high school or quit,” Barbara mumbled. “I’ll have to look into that.”

“What do you want to see first?” Jason asked, ignoring Oracle to focus on the guy beside him. 

“Well, the exhibition is only going to be here for a limited time, right? Let’s go check that out, then we can look at the stuff that’s always here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jason said, putting his arm around Danny when he started to turn down the wrong hallway. “Just follow me.”

“Right,” Danny agreed. 

It had already been a week and no one had tried to rob the museum yet. It might be giving the security guards a false sense of security, because not only was the collection incredibly valuable, but a week was just enough time for an experienced thief to case the place and plan their robbery. It was bound to happen any day now. Might even be busy tonight.

There were multiple signs directing them towards the exhibit, not to mention that as they drew closer, there were paper lanterns hanging on the support columns. The displays were either locked behind thick glass set up on a table or framed on the walls. 

The bronzes were intricately designed and had a rich history behind each one. But when one of them could easily be a paperweight on Bruce’s desk, they lost their luster. 

The paintings varied in style from realistic to more abstract. One depicted a black cat pawing at a pond, trying to catch a white fish. He wondered if his siblings were open to placing bets on which rogue would take first dibs on the museum heist. He could definitely see this hanging over Catwoman's fireplace. 

He could tell from the way Danny looked around the museum that he thought it was nice, but it didn’t hold his attention. If he wasn’t so easy to pickpocket, Jason would have regretted not taking him to the science museum first. He reached inside Danny’s backpack again, feeling around until he pulled out a small tube. It was about three inches, cylindrical, silver cased. When he tugged on it, the cap came off revealing a green lipstick. “Is this yours? Because I don’t think it’s your color,” Jason remarked,

Danny’s eyes widened, but rather than get flustered, he reached out, saying, “Don’t—” A laser shot out from the lipstick, leaving a burn mark on one of the support columns. Danny quickly grabbed it out of Jason’s hand and recapped it.

Where was this stuff coming from and did he have a hole in his backpack?  

“You’re not an up-in-coming rogue, are you?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I just— I don’t know how to explain that actually, but no.” Forget a second date, he’d be lucky if Jason didn’t try to turn him into Gotham PD. He was taking everything out of his backpack as soon as he was getting home and making sure that ONLY his school stuff stayed in there. 

“Could you try?” Jason probed. “It’d make me feel a little more comfortable considering—” he said, eyeing the black, singed spot. 

"Right, sorry. It's a lip stick and an ecto-blaster. As long as you're not pressing the button, it won’t do… that . It must have wound up back in my bag." He put it in his pocket for now. That’s what he got for blindly grabbing a few ghost weapons from his house before going away to college and not making sure it stayed with Sam and Tucker. 

“Ecto? I’m not familiar with the term.”

Right, normal people had normal vocabularies because their whole childhood didn’t revolve around ectoplasm. “My parents are ecto-biologists. It’s a… powersource ?”

“You don’t sound too sure?”

“I’m not an ecto-biologist,” Danny argued. “I mean, I can tinker with a few of their gadgets, but they’re the ones making all of these things.”

“Why haven’t I seen any on the market?” Jason probed.

“They’re scientists, not advertisers. Never been their strong suit, and I think that’s for the best. I’m pretty sure they’ve sold some patents for their normal inventions, but those things aren’t something they really kept around the house.” Only the weird stuff stayed at home. The rest of the world was safe from finding franken-weiners in their fridges… at least as long as they didn’t find his parents’s etsy. 

Something exploded, shaking the room. Then again, and again, in three second intervals. Through the chaos, he saw it, the paper lanterns were exploding, knocking down the pillars with them. Jason could see the next one where a little girl was standing under it. He ran, pushing her out of the way as the column fell, pinning his leg underneath. She was staring at him wide-eyed. “Run,” Jason ordered. The kid hesitated, looking between Jason and the hallway. 

An older woman yelled “Emma! Emma, where are you?” And the kid’s head spun around towards the voice.

Jason shouted, “Don’t worry about me. Get your mom outta here!” It suddenly clicked for her, and the kid nodded, sprinting off as fast as she could run. He was able to see her reunite with her mom through the dust and smoke, grabbing her hand and running towards the fire exit. 

Danny was on the other side, helping two elderly women as he’d pulled them away from the other column that fell. 

"The world is split in two. Just like me. Just like this exhibition. Yin and yang. People just don’t get it," he rambled. His suit was monochrome, split right down the middle. The undamaged side of his face was on the side with the white suit and where it buttoned up in the middle it became black with the scared half of his head. Behind Two Face, his goons lined up, guns in hand. The men were just wearing normal jackets over shirts with slacks like the side characters you might see in a mafia movie who work as the underlings of the godfather. 

“Dammit, the other robbery was just a distraction to keep Signal occupied,” Oracle cursed. “You need to get back there, now!”

“Just finished up. I’m on my way!” Duke replied. “How bad is it?”

“Start loading it up boys,” Two Face ordered as he stood in front of one of the paintings, admiring it. "Two sides. Always two sides. The world, my soul, my face, this art... everything is split in two."

“Bad,” Oracle replied. “Two Face has his goons all over the place.”

Jason grunted as he tried to pick up the pillar. It got him in a really shitty position where it wedged itself into the wall, making it stupidly hard to move. “Motherfucker,” he swore as he pushed against the marble.

Three goons approached him while the others started sacking the place. “Hey, isn’t that one of the Wayne’s?” the guy commented. 

“Looks like luck is on our side today,” the other said. “While we sell all the goods, we can get a ransom too.”

Jason sighed, rolling his eyes. 

The old women were gone, and Danny was back, seeing Jason and the goons. He pulled off his backpack. “What do I have in here?” Danny wondered aloud as he riffled through the bag. “Yes!” he quietly cheered as he pulled out two small capsules that looked like they could have been vitamin supplements. 

The column falling damaged the sprinkler system, causing it to leak. Danny held the capsules under the drip to get them wet, then he threw them at the two goons trying to get him to put his hands up. The pills expanded into heavy duty sleeping bags that slammed into the guys, knocking them on their asses and sending their guns flying. 

“Damn, why don’t they sell that commercially,” Jason commented.

“They probably forgot about it,” Danny replied, punching the third goon in the jaw, and even though his form was shit, the guy lost a tooth as he fell back unconscious. Danny grit his teeth as he picked up the pillar enough for Jason to pull his leg out from where it was pinned. The guy was a lot stronger than he looked. Once he was free, Danny grabbed Jason, picking him up fireman style and carried him away from the action as Two Face finally turned away from the painting to see the chaos they were causing. 

“What are you idiots—? Hey! Get them!” Harvey ordered. The goons who were pulling paintings out of frames and shoving bronzes into boxes frantically tried to pivot to put the goods down and get their guns. 

Jason couldn’t even complain about being carried away from the action when he could have grabbed one of their guns because he couldn’t blow his civilian cover without having Bruce and Tim bitch at him for hours. At least there was one consolation prize, Danny was really hot picking him up like he was a bag of potatoes and not a 225 lbs, 6ft tall man. Danny was probably around 5’7’’ and looked like he’d be 125 lbs soaking wet.

Once they rounded a corner and the goons ran right past them, Danny set Jason down and leaned him against the wall. He winced as he rolled Jason’s pants leg up to look at the damage. “Ooo, that’s a nasty bruise.” He ran his hand across it. “There’s some swelling, but I don’t feel anything out of place. How’s it feel to you?”

“Bruised but not broken. Gonna be a bitch until it’s healed, but I’ve had worse.” Not a lie, but it was pretty bad. 

“Than this?” Danny asked, grimacing at the black and blue markings that ran down his leg. “I think they should have a first aid kit around here somewhere. We can get some ice packs to help with the swelling.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think Two Face has his guys literally everywhere, so we’re not getting out until one of the bats comes to stop him. There’s one that comes out during the day, isn’t there?”

“Signal, yeah,” Jason replied. 

“Right, so until then, we’re stuck, so if we can, we should get some ice on that,” Danny rationalized. 

“There’s usually one by the stairwell,” Jason stated. “Which would be that door over there, so if they put it on the wall,” he said, eyes scanning the area until he spotted the green bag with a white plus on it. “Over there.”

“Got it,” Danny said, inching over to the open doorway. He peered down the hall. It was clear. He quickly ran over to the kit, opened it since the box didn’t come off the wall, and pulled out a handful of shit before slamming it closed and hurrying back. “I don’t think anyone saw me,” he commented as he set down his haul on the floor. Three ice packs, an Advil in a sealed package, a few miscellaneous bandages that got mixed up in his haste to get back before they were discovered. 

The ice packs were single use, shake and pop to make it cold. Danny followed the instructions, though the “pop” was a lot louder than either of them would like. 

Danny handed the ice pack over to Jason who held it to his knee. “You don’t think they heard that, did you?”

“Two Face’s goons are more competent than the Joker’s, but less than Penguins, so it’s really a toss up,” Jason replied, taking the Advil dry. The ice felt so much better against his leg then he expected it to. Usually the little bags were kinda shit. 

“Well my luck’s pretty awful, what about yours?” Danny asked.

Jason didn’t get a chance to reply when two of the henchmen came through the doorway. 

“Told ya I heard something,” the goon said, pointing his gun at them. "Life’s a 50-50 shot. You either win big or lose everything. Just like the boss." 

“And it looks like your luck just ran out,” the other goon said. 

“ Pride and prejudice ,” Danny cursed. He punched the goon closet to him, knocking him back into the wall and kicked the other guy in the stomach. The gun flew out of his hand. 

“Did— do you censor yourself with book titles?” Jason asked and Danny froze. It’d been so long since he started doing it that he forgot about it.

“My English teacher used to do it and I guess it rubbed off on me,” he explained. So much for looking cool fighting off Gotham goons. He was just weird, having ghost tech in his bag and censoring himself with boring book titles. Danny could kiss that second date goodbye. It’d be the only kiss he got. 

“Now that I’m thinking about it, all this shit has gone down and you haven’t said fuck once.”

Gothamites did like swearing. He heard it almost everyday now. “No one in my life ever cursed so it never made it into my vocabulary,” Danny defended, picking Jason up again and moving into one of the exhibition rooms. Two face’s henchmen were still running around. He leaned Jason up against another wall. 

“ No one ?” Jason questioned. “Where did you grow up?”

“Illinois?” 

That was when more goons showed up, and frankly Danny had never been more grateful to have a gun pointed at him. One of them must have seen him duck into here. He looked around for anything and grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall, spraying the guys down in foam. 

“What the fuck?” The goon cursed, “I’m gonna—” he was cut off as Danny threw the fire extinguisher at his head. It made a bad thud as it hit him. Danny winced. 

“You boys are causing a lot of problems.” The gruff voice sent a chill down his spine, and while Danny was familiar with the cold, this wasn’t good. He didn’t want to turn around because he had a really bad feeling he knew who that voice belonged to.

“We can’t let you have all the fun,” Danny retorted, because they were already in as bad a situation as they could be in, so he might as well get all the guns pointed at himself rather than Jason. “I thought you liked taking chances?” 

"So, a wise guy eh? You think you can outsmart me?” Two Face asked, pulling out his two-headed coin, about the size of a silver dollar with one head intact and the other damaged. “Let's see what the coin says." He had about six goons beside him, all pointing their guns at him.

As the coin spun around in the air, Danny wondered if he was about to have to let himself get shot. Unless— Danny uncapped the lipstick in his pocket and fired. He didn’t get a chance to brag very often, but his aim was good, and had only gotten better over the years. He blasted the coin out of the air. It bounced off the wall and rolled around on the floor, eventually wedging itself under one of the displays. 

“No!” Two Face shouted, and if the guy hadn’t been trying to kill him, he’d have felt really bad about the genuine anguish in his voice as he fell to the floor after the coin. The table was slightly elevated, but only enough Two Face could fit his arm underneath and blindly reach around for it. His henchmen immediately went to help, trying to lift the display that was bolted to the ground. While they were all distracted Danny shoved the lipstick back in his pocket and grabbed Jason, throwing him over his shoulder and getting the heck out of there. 

Just as they were leaving, the door burst open and Signal appeared, knocking out the last of Two Face’s goons. “Oh, thank the Ancients,” Danny whispered under his breath.

“The path behind me is clear, get yourselves out of here!” Signal instructed. 

“Gladly,” Danny replied as he ran out the door. He did not remember where they came in from, but anywhere was better then here. 

“Go back and make that left,” Jason instructed. “The exit’s that way. Then take a right and we’ll be there.”

“Right,” Danny said, back tracking towards the correct hallway. 

“You can put me down now,” Jason remarked. 

“Oh, yeah, right, sorry,” Danny rambled as he put Jason back on his two feet. 

Gotham PD was waiting outside, but Jason did not feel like giving a statement right now. All he wanted was one of his nicer ice packs wrapped around his leg and some of the good painkillers. 

One of the officer’s approached them and started to say, “We’ll need to get a—”

“No,” was all Jason said as he walked right past the cop.

Danny hesitantly followed after Jason, sticking to his side. He quietly asked, “You can do that?”

“It’s Gotham,” Jason replied. “I’m sure there were plenty of people that already talked to them. They don’t need ours.”

“Maybe you should have let the EMT’s look at your leg.”

“In this economy?” Jason joked. “It’s really fine. Nothing’s broken. I just need to keep it elevated and ice it or whatever,” he said, waving off Danny’s worries. “So, tell me, did you actually read the books or are you just using their name in vain?”

“Yeah, I had to read a lot of classics to get my teacher to bump my grade up my Junior year,” Danny explained. 

“That’s a lot of papers to write.”

“After the first two, I think he got tired of grading them, so he actually just quizzed me on the story to make sure I actually read them.”

Smart teacher, getting his student to do what he wanted without giving himself more work. “Really? How much extra credit was that worth?”

“It bumped my GPA up to a 3.0 average, so I’d look better applying to colleges. Hard to get into engineering with anything lower than that.”

“How many did he make you read?” 

“Seventeen over the course of my Junior year, and five more my senior year,” Danny stated. “Some of them were shorter, like Animal Farm. Moby Dick on the other hand would have benefited from an editor. That man talked about whales for a long time.” 

Jason whistled. “No wonder he didn’t want to grade that many papers. And Herman Melville actually had a few editors.” 

“And it was still that long? Like the story was fine, but it dragged ,” Danny said, pushing his bangs out of his face. “I did laugh when the cook told the sharks to shut up because that pompous guy was complaining about it. No, you have to preach to the Sharks. I would not wanna be stuck on a boat with that guy.”

Jason chuckled. “Stubb was certainly something,” he agreed, though he found Moby Dick to be a more enjoyable read than Danny. He asked, “Should I try to stop cursing around you?” He managed around Alfred, so if it really bothered the guy, he could try. 

“I don’t mind swearing, it’s just not something I do. I know the book title thing is a little weird.”

“I think it’s hot,” Jason remarked.

“I— wait, what?”

“I’m currently rereading Pride and Prejudice. It’s one of my favorites.” 

They made it back to the parking garage and started weaving their way back to Jason’s motorcycle. 

“Are you in college too?” Danny asked.

“Nah, I’ve thought about it, but I’m busy with work now.” He could make it work. He’d thought about it too. But he didn’t need a degree. His records were already fucked up from dying and coming back, so that’d be annoying. He did miss learning. School used to be his favorite thing. Hell, he enjoyed doing his homework before going out as Robin with Bruce. 

“What do you do for work?” Danny asked.

Jason smiled, “I’m a crime lord.” Before Danny could ask if he was being serious, he added, “I run one of the Charities for the Wayne foundation.” 

“Oh, that’s really cool,” Danny said, genuinely, unlike most of the rich asshats that came to galas to donate to those charities who only smiled and nodded, thinking about how good the donation made them look rather than have any interest in where the money was going. 

He tossed Danny his helmet. “Wanna tell me how to take you home?”

Duke watched as Gotham PD loaded Two Face and his goons into the back of a police van. Jason was already halfway back to Danny’s apartment, but Oracle was in his ear, giving him shortcuts to meet them there. He watched from the roof as Jason walked Danny inside before saying their goodbyes.

When Jason came back out, Lady Gotham was wrapped around Jason again, stuck to him like a velcro strap. He didn’t even say anything about it, but he could feel her took his way, even though she didn’t have a face. It was just the way the darkness gathered that he could tell it’s what she meant, just like when she flipped him off, which she was doing again. 

Jason scaled a fire escape to gain access to one of the rooftops on the smaller story buildings nearby. Duke landed to meet up with him. 

“So that was one hell of a date,” Jason remarked. “It’s kinda cute how he still has no idea I’m a Wayne kid.”

“Guess he’s not into celebrity gossip,” Duke commented.

“He reads Jane Austin,” Jason remarked. He weirdly seemed to glow a little brighter, but it was hard to tell with Lady Gotham smothering him. 

“He’s read one of her books,” Oracle stated. “You didn’t even ask him if he actually liked it.”

“Who could read Pride and Prejudice and not like it?” Jason asked incredulously. 

Jason turned his Comm off, and Duke knew enough to know to follow suit. 

Now it was just the two of them, no Barbara to overhear. He expected to ask about what he saw, since he’d seen so many weird things. He didn’t know it could get weirder, but Jason grinned and said, “He punched the Joker. He kicked Harvey’s ass. He’s pretty funny too. And strong. Carried me like I weighed nothing. ”

All unprompted remarks that painted Danny in, at least for Jason, a very positive light. The Joker had been an accident, Two Face was on purpose, funny was subjective, and strong was just a surprising fact. All those things on their own didn’t really mean anything, but put together, Duke found himself asking, “Are you… falling for him?” He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“Dunno,” Jason replied honestly. “I might be.” His grin fell as he looked at Duke and threatened, “If you tell any of the others I will make you rue the day.”

Duke swallowed, nodding his head. “Understood.”

“Not even your food will be safe.”

“I got it. You don’t have to worry about me,” Duke assured him.

Jason smiled, looking back out over the Gotham skyline. “I know. That’s why I told you and not the rest of those gossip monsters.”

Duke blinked, looking at Jason as he fell silent and an “Oh.” escaped his lips before he could really think. Jason for his part didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t like Jason hadn’t been trying to be more involved in the family, especially now that his pit rage was gone, it was just that Duke hadn’t expected the transparency. Whatever the reason, he was going to earn the trust Jason had put in him. If the others found out Jason had a crush, it wasn’t gonna be from him. 

Chapter Text

“Soooo, how’d the date go?” Tucker asked, resting his head on his arms as he perched over the back of the couch.

“I need to clean out my backpack,” Danny lamented, tossing the offending bag on the little desk-table thing Sam set up by the door. 

“...That good?” Tucker said cautiously, tilting his head to the side.

“What? No!” Danny exclaimed, unsure what Tucker was even implying, but he knew better than to ask. “A bunch of my parents' stuff wound up in my bag. I didn’t even know I still had the Fenton Phones. I thought I gave them to you guys a while ago.”

Sam placed her black, spider web bookmark in her textbook and shut it, setting it down as she swung her legs down from her reading nook. “You probably put Tucker’s pair in there when you were cleaning just to get it out of the way since he leaves his stuff everywhere,” she theorized.

“Hey! I was getting around to putting them away,” Tucker defended.

Danny let them bicker back-and-forth as he floated over to the bookshelf they kept in their shared space. He was pretty sure it’d be here. He ran his finger over the spines of each novel as he searched for that title. “Yes!” Danny cheered as he pulled out Pride and Prejudice . “I knew I still had it!”

Sam and Tucker both shared a look with each other before Sam said, “Uh, Danny, I thought you said that book made you want to rip your hair out because you were so bored.”

Tucker nodded. “Yeah, you called it cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“...I wanted to give it a second chance. I’m older now. Maybe my literary palate is more refined,” Danny said, blowing the dust off.

“And you’re not under some spell or mind control or something? Is Ghost Writer mad at you again?” Tucker guessed.

“Ghost Writer can’t do anything against his king, even if he doesn’t care about rules, he doesn’t have the power to oppose me anymore,” Danny retorted, rolling his eyes as he cracked the book open. He crossed his legs, sitting more comfortably in the air. 

“So, out of all the books you had to read, why that one?” Sam asked.

Danny pursed his lips and averted his eyes“...Jason really seemed to like it, so I wanted to see why.” How bad could it be if Jason was willingly reading it for fun?

“Ooo, trying to impress your date. Now that makes sense,” Tucker stated, turning back around on the couch and sinking into the cushions.

Danny huffed. “Shut up.”

“Changing yourself to make a boy like you. Paulina would be proud,” Sam remarked, smirking as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

Danny sighed, closing the book. He opened a portal to his room and tossed it through to land on his bed. “Okay, enough about me,” Danny said, pushing his hair out of his face. “Why don’t you two suit up and help me find out why Spectra’s in Gotham?” Danny knew it was probably the only thing he could say to get them off his back about Jason. That and they really needed to sort this out. It wasn’t like ghosts were forbidden from coming to the land of the living, but she didn’t exactly have the greatest track record. 

“Spectra?!” Sam and Tucker exclaimed, now thoroughly distracted from his lovelife. Or possible lack thereof, but Jason seemed open to another date despite how terrible this one went. 

“I saw her in the paper. Her human form must not distort cameras the same way mine and most ghost’s do,” Danny remarked. Her form did have living DNA in it after she tried to make herself a new body and got a little bit of his dad in her. She wasn’t a halfa, but it was probably something close to it. Luckily for her, Skulker was too stupid to realise she was now a ‘one of a kind’ ghost. That or being Ember’s friend gave her a pass. “She’s the new psychiatrist at Arkham.” 

“So she’s making the worst of Gotham even worse? That’s just great,” Tucker lamented.

When Jason got back to the manor, most of the bats were still asleep. It would be a good idea for him to get some rest too, but before that, he had something he wanted to check on. He went to the old “broken” grandfather clock and spun the hands around until it clicked, opening up to reveal the elevator to the batcave. 

As he stepped out of the elevator into the cave, he noticed the green blob sitting on the table beside Alfred as he bandaged Damian’s finger. Jason could do the math on how Damian ended up needing that bandage and couldn’t help but huff a little laugh. 

Damian turned and glared at him, a light pink spreading across his cheeks. 

“How’s everything?” Jason asked, approaching them, moving slowly so he didn’t scare it away. It was already edging closer to Alfred. 

When he was close enough, Jason tentatively held out his fist for the little guy to sniff. It hesitantly smelled him, gently brushing up against his knuckles. It wasn’t as slimy as he’d expected. It was kinda soft. 

“Does it eat?” Jason asked gently. The blob of ectoplasm still inched back slowly putting space between them. It eventually backed up off the table it was on and went towards a dark spot near the wall. Jason made no move to follow it. He’d let it come to him.

“The child seems to be a fan of sweets and meat,” Alfred stated, collecting a few discarded bags of empty jerky.

“Well he does have my genes,” Jason remarked. He glanced over at Damian. Dick must have been the one to restock the first aid kid, because he was wearing a Wonder Woman themed bandage.

“What is it, Todd?” Damian asked snippily. 

“Are you trying to win it over as the favorite uncle?” Jason asked, smirking as his little brother glowered at him. 

Damian huffed. “I was merely checking on its state of health.”

“And?” Jason prodded.

“It is very quick, but loses energy far more rapidly than I had anticipated. Despite its bite, I was able to catch it quite easily. I am unsure of how to stabilize it.”

That didn’t sound good. It probably wasn’t going to go pit mad or anything, but if it was losing energy that fast, then it might just run out. He didn’t want to know what would happen if that came to be. 

“Do we have any more of the chemical that created it?” Jason asked. If that brought it to life, it’d probably help stabilize it. After all, it was half his blood half chemical ooze. 

“Yes, but Father doesn’t want to use it in case it mutates them further.”

“And you don’t want B. mad at you,” Jason surmised, walking over to the table with all of the Fenton Works products. He picked up a vial labeled Ecto-dejecto. It was the only lone chemical that wasn’t hooked up to some weapon. He uncorked it, poured a little on a cookie and tossed it to his “son” who jumped and snapped it out of the air. His color seemed to brighten and he got slightly bigger, like a chihuahua to a toy poodle. Jason recorked the vial.

“What are you doing?” Damian hissed.

“B. can yell at me if he wants. I’m not letting it get sick or die because we don’t understand ghosts,” Jason replied. “I’ll ask Phantom about it if I see him again.”

“The High King?” Damian asked. “Are you sure that man has any knowledge to aid anyone?”

“Nope, but I’ll ask anyway. The only other ghosts I’ve met have been a guy that tried to hunt me for sport, a knockoff condiment king, and the one who tried to help Riddler, so Phantom is my best bet.”

“I don’t remember hearing about a knockoff condiment king,” Damian said, grimacing. 

“Called himself “the box ghost” and Phantom didn’t seem too concerned with him,” Jason replied. 

“You still should have filed a report on a potential adversary,” Damian scolded.

“I was a little preoccupied with being cured from pit-madness to think about ol’ Boxy,” Jason retorted, tossing a regular cookie to his sorta-son. 

Damian pursed his lips into a thin line. “...I suppose that is something Father would excuse.” 

“I concur,” Alfred said. “Master Damian, would you please go retrieve the batch of cookies from upstairs? They should have cooled by now. It seems the child has almost finished them all.”

“Food is the quickest way to the heart,” Jason remarked. “Might stop biting you if he’s got enough.”

“Tsk,” Damian clicked his tongue but dutifully headed up to retrieve the cookies. 

When it was just the two, or three, of them, Alfred gave Jason a knowing look that made him feel like he was made of glass. He could never put up a facade with him. Jason tossed the last cookie to his kid. 

“Have you thought of a name?” Alfred asked.

“Finn…” Jason said softly. 

“A good choice. Is that inspired by something? Perhaps, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn?”

Jason averted his eyes. “...It might be.” But it was a good name, and his kid was quick and clever and rebellious, so it worked. It was a good choice. It wasn’t cringe. He would fight anyone who said otherwise.

Alfred chuckled, walking over to pick the kid up. “Finn, that’s your name, so I hope you respond when I call you, Master Finn.” 

Despite being a little green blob, it seemed to acknowledge the name. 

“Do you both have Fenton Peelers? We can’t risk the bats recognizing you, and those ’ll obscure your faces. Maybe a mask too. Do you have your jumpsuits? Those might work too.”

“I got mine under my bed!” Tucker said, jumping up to go grab it. “Finally time to dust it off!”

“Yeah,” Sam said, already dressed, pulling her jumpsuit’s mask and goggles over her face, and activating her Fenton Peeler. The silver armored suit unfolded around her. “Need to get some good ol ghost hunting exercise in.”

“Am I the only one that’s been enjoying the peace and normalcy?” Danny wondered aloud.

“Yes!” Sam said as Tucker replied, “It’s been kinda boring, man.” 

Tucker finally found his Fenton Peeler and suited up. Now all that was left was Danny. 

He might be able to use his abilities in his human form, but he really didn’t need the Bats finding him, so, “I’m going ghost!” Danny announced as two familiar white rings encompassed his body. 

Once he was transformed, crown above his head, ring on his hand, star cape billowing behind him, Tucker blasted him with his ecto-gun. 

Danny threw up a shield, blocking the attack. “Woah! What are you doing?”

Sam uncapped the thermos and aimed it at him. Danny felt the infamous pull on his form. He grit his teeth, flying against it. He managed to free himself, but subsequently launched himself through the building, having to go intangible and fly through one too many showers. Ugh. When he got back to their room, he made himself visible, crossing his arms over his chest and glared at his friends. “Anyone want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Wait, Danny, that’s really you?” Tucker asked. 

“No, Tuck, it’s the Queen of England,” Danny retorted dryly. 

“You could have told us you changed your look,” Tucker defended. “It’s not like ghosts haven’t impersonated you before.”

“Yeah, I almost souped you,” Sam said. 

“Who else has the crown of fire and ring of rage?” It was a frozen fire now, but still. “They can’t fake that. Also, it is not that different. I’m just taller.”

“And more muscular,” Tucker added. “So, why’d you change your form?”

“Well… I was messing with Red Hood a little and I’m not mad at it.”

“With the bats getting mixed up with ghosts, it’s probably better if you don’t look like you anyway,” Sam remarked. “The more differences the better. We don’t need them connecting Danny Fenton to Danny Phantom .”

“They’re already looking into both of “me’s.” I know ghosts legally aren’t metas, but I’m not sure Batman cares for semantics ,” Danny remarked. “I’d like to give them as little information as possible.”

“Agreed,” Sam chimed in. 

“You think he’d try to make you a Robin?” Tucker asked.

“I think he’d try to exorcize me,” Danny retorted.

He grabbed both of them by the back of their suits and made them all intangible as they flew through Gotham, heading straight for Arkham Asylum. The place gave him the heebie-jeebies. Even Lady Gotham didn’t like being here. And, the folks inside weren’t exactly her best denizens, so he understood why her presence was practically nonexistent here. It wasn’t like he spent a lot of time in Walker’s domain. Not willingly, at least. 

It was actually pretty easy to find Spectra, since she had her name on the door to her office. She was walking towards her desk with some files in hand while Bertrand made small talk with her, gossiping about the inmates and her coworkers. Danny didn’t pay attention to it, instead, throwing Sam and Tucker into the room. Bertrand was quick to turn into his green ghost form before shifting into a hornet. He picked Tucker up and threw him into a wall before Sam blasted him from behind with her gun and sucked him into the thermos. 

“Who dares—” Spectra said, blasting both of them back, leaving a burnt mark on their armor, but doing no real damage to it. 

Looks like it was his turn to step in. Danny made himself visible. 

“Penelope Spectra,” Danny’s voice boomed as he released his energy, making her fall to her knees. Man, that was satisfying. “Do you think my laws are something you have the ability to ignore?”

“The least you could do is check first,” Spectra grit out. “I haven’t broken any law!”

“You expect me to believe you're just here for the scenery?” Danny said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Look, I haven’t hurt any of them!” she argued.

Danny raised his eyebrow. Seriously, did she expect him to fall for that? Even at fourteen he wouldn’t have believed her. 

Spectra rolled her eyes. “Not physically ,” she amended.

“You feed off of misery. You’re draining their life forces—” Danny said before Spectra cut him off.

“I don’t need that to sustain myself anymore.” Spectra’s words made Danny pause. He drew his energy back. Spectra pulled herself up, bracing against her desk. Once she had her footing, she grabbed the perfume bottle from her desk. “It’s Spectra’s Ecto-perfecto,” she said, spritzing herself with a green cloud that smelled like lavender, vanilla, and a hint of ectoplasm, though most people who didn’t grow up around the stuff probably wouldn’t recognize its scent. 

Spectra set the bottle back on her desk and explained, “I unfortunately couldn’t think of anything else to call it. I believe the naming convention was something compelled by the genes I inherited from your oaf of a father. The one benefit to having him in my head was his skills for ecto-inventions. Now my form is stabilized enough that I can shapeshift however I please, no need to feed on pathetic, little mortals.”

It sounded too good to be true, but then again, his dad had made a very similar product. Danny levitated the bottle over to himself, pulled a vial out from a portal and sprayed a sample for himself to compare it to the ecto-dejecto his parents made. When he was done putting the vial back through the portal to his room, he tossed the perfume back to Spectra. 

She scrambled to catch it, shooting him a menacing glare that brought a smile to Danny’s lips. 

“So, why are you here?” Sam asked, dusting herself off. She’d broken a few shelves when she hit the wall and some picture frames hit the floor.  

“To embrace the suffering of others!” she said gleefully, clasping her hands together. “Why else?”

“But you’re not draining their life forces?” Danny asked. 

“Not even a drop. I’m complying with your rules, my King .” she said, sounding as disrespectful to the title as she possibly could. She extended her hand, looking at her freshly polished nails. “The only thing I hurt is their self-esteem.” 

“So you’re here making the inmates of Arkham suffer without draining them at all?” Danny asked to clarify. 

“Yes.” Spectra said flatly.

“So… you’re just doing it for the love of the game?” Tucker asked. 

“Making people miserable is my obsession, after all.”

And there goes the Fright Night’s opportunity to send someone to the nightmare dimension. Glad he didn’t call and get the guy’s hopes up. Now he didn’t have to set up a whole trial, but he also didn’t get to throw the book at her. Man, this stunk. 

“Wait, Spectra, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you could get seriously hurt. What you’re doing is dangerous! These people aren't high schoolers. They’re violent criminals, and not ghost violent like, turn people into ghosts violent!” 

Spectra just smiled. “I know. It makes it all the more satisfying when they break down in tears.”

“...Has the Joker cried?” 

“Tucker!” Danny exclaimed, dragging his hand down his face.

“Wait, let her answer the question,” Sam said.

“Nothing genuine,” Spectra said with a huff, sitting back in her chair. “He is very easy to irritate with that fragile ego of his. That's been fun. Especially after he got out of surgery and was made impotent after his castration.”

“They castrated him?!” Danny and Tucker both exclaimed, feeling suddenly overprotective of their lower halves.

“Apparently, someone crushed his manhood. There might have been some way to salvage it, but the doctor chose to proceed with the amputation.” 

“Nice,” Sam remarked. 

Danny shuddered at the imagery that planted itself in his head. Tucker seemed to be just as unnerved as him. But hey, at least that freak couldn’t have kids. “Getting back to the point, why are you provoking Gotham's rogues?”

“Daniel, they're humans without anti-ghost technology, which they don't even know they need because my disguise is so good,” Spectra stated, and yeah, she really did look like any other human. If he didn’t already know her or have his ghost sense, he wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a line up. “They can't do anything to me. If they try, I'll just leave. There are plenty of other prisons I can go to. I came to this one because their security is so lax when it comes to vetting the people they hire, I could practically give myself the job. If I had known this was your new playground I would have started elsewhere.”

“I don’t have to announce where my haunts are,” Danny retorted.

“How did you get hired?” Sam questioned. “You can’t have a real background.”

“I do, actually. I overshadowed some college official at Stanford and gave myself a doctorate. I went to a DMV and Bertrand overshadowed someone to take my Driver’s license photo. And I went to a hospital and gave myself a social security number. Set up a bank account, not that I need the money, but the paycheck for this position has to go somewhere to avoid suspicion. That’s really all I needed. They practically handed me this job on a silver platter.”

“That’s more thorough than I would have expected,” Danny commented.

“Why prison?” Sam asked.

“I worked for Walker for a bit, but— Well, you know how he is. I prefer being my own boss.” Spectra replied, lacing her fingers together and cracking them. “Besides, if I need to make people miserable, I thought you’d appreciate that I made an effort to only do it to those who actually deserve it.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Making people miserable is your obsession?”

“It is,” Spectra chirped.

“You are awful, so I guess I can believe that,” Danny said, scratching his head.

Spectra gave him another tight, fake smile and said through gritted teeth, “Charmed as always, my King.”

“Don’t do anything that will really harm any of them,” Danny ordered. 

“Oh, please. Compared to some of the unsavory experiments my colleagues here are running, I’m practically a saint.”

“What are they doing?” Tucker asked.

Spectra shrugged. “I guess I’d call it torture, but they call it electro shock therapy, amoung other things I don’t have a name for. I’ve never seen those sorts of treatments anywhere else. Even Walker would never have that sort of thing in his prison. The machines are rather barbaric. But, Sharp doesn’t actually care what we do here as long as the criminals don’t escape. He wants to maintain his good image for when he runs for mayor.”

“That’s messed up,” Tucker stated.

“That’s politics,” Spectra quipped. 

Now that he knew about it, he couldn’t just sit by while people were getting hurt. Even if those people were absolutely deranged villains who were the worst of the worst. He really didn’t need another thing on his plate. Maybe he could pass it off to Red Hood. …Or—

“If you stop your coworkers from causing harm to the living here, you can stay instead of working for Walker,” Danny offered.

Spectra wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, why is that my problem? And Walker’s so full of himself,” she whined.

Danny shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. You have a deal,” Spectra agreed with a huff. Danny went to grab Sam and Tucker when Spectra said, “Can you give me Betrand back? I still need him to run some errands for me.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Sam said, pulling the thermos back out, uncapping it and hitting reverse to release the tiny green ghost.

“Ugh, it is disgusting in that thing,” Bertrand complained. “But what could I expect from you .” 

“Careful, your thin ice is starting to melt,” Danny warned. 

That shut him up, and it felt good to shut him up. Being King wasn’t always such a bad thing. Most of the problems he faced were the stuff he already had been dealing with because he felt responsible for it regardless of whether or not it was really his job to deal with them, and now he could just tell them to knock it off! As long as they didn’t try to make him go to any meetings, things were good. The rulers of their respective zones were handling their stuff. He was getting this King stuff down. 

When they made it back home, Danny transformed back. It was a little weird to get shorter, but it was kind of like floating above the ground before landing again. “You know, I did not expect to be making a deal with Spectra tonight,” Danny remarked.

“Gotham’s really full of surprises,” Sam commented.

This would be perfect! Daniel didn’t want him creating villains so he’d just find a hero to mentor instead! They’d have the resources of a villain without the repercussions of disobeying the Ghost King! It was brilliant! But of course it was, it was his idea! He just had to find the right one, and that red helmeted brute had suggested someone called Red Robin . Though he could also feel someone else in the city's technology, all spider webbing across the city, too established to be a villain, so it was fair game, baby! He might just get two little proteges out of this! 

Finding them honestly wasn’t an issue. Any genius would be able to guess that the big power source slightly outside the city was a secret hideout. The villains didn’t seem to have that much tech all in one place. He could practically smell it now. This Red Robin was sure to be there.

Technus dove into the electrical currents and followed the cables towards it. When he emerged, he was inside a large computer inside a cave of all places. Putting high grade tech in the same place as troglodytes, what were these heroes doing? He poked around the files inside. There was a lot . How to defeat every hero? He just hit the jackpot! These heroes were already thinking about how to defeat everyone! Ha! Ooo how to defeat superman? If you can’t overshadow him, just get a little green rock. And that guy’s supposed to be the living’s toughest fight? Ha, even Skulker would get bored. 

Hey! There was an access link for the Justice League! He could get inside their servers and take over the whole thing! He poked his head inside, seeing the space station he’d have under his thumb! Ha ha! But, he’d already taken over a satellite before. Been there, done that. He didn’t need Daniel revoking his access to the living world for a joy ride, no matter how fun it would be.  

He fully situated himself inside the bat computer as it was genuinely named on his system. Oh, bat and bats live in caves . That is clever! He could forgive them for hiding all this brilliant technology in such a dark and dingy cave.

There was a camera built in to the computer for zoom calls and the like. He turned it on to get a better look at the cave he was stuck in. Wow, this guy was a hoarder. So much stuff piled into one cave. There was even a dinosaur, which was almost as weird as the giant penny. Ooo, someone was coming over to the computer. Based on the costume he was wearing and the information stored inside, that was the Red Robin he was looking for!

He started searching through the computer for some file he was creating to log all the ghost equipment he’d been sorting through. “Quite the collection you’ve made,” Technus remarked. “Luckily for you, I’m here to help!”

“Did Steph install some Gilbert Godfrey voice into the computer?” the Red Robin questioned. 

“Gilbert? Who is Gilbert? I am Technus!” he announced. 

Red Robin’s eyes widened in shock and awe from being in front of such a highly intelligent and great being such as he! Then he scrambled to put some little black plastic or whatever over his eyes, slightly obscuring his face. He could sense a little technology in his mask, a recording device of sorts. Heh, that made sense. He wanted to really remember their first meeting. Too bad that thing couldn't record a thing since it wasn't set up for ecto-beings. Hey! Maybe he could help the child fix that! He was nailing this whole mentor thing.

“You are the Red Robin, yes?” he asked. 

“How did you get inside our mainframe?” Red Robin asked so seriously. Heroes were always so serious. They really needed to lighten up. 

“Oh, this? It’s a piece of cake for a ghost with my technological knowhow!” Technus bragged. 

“You’re the ghost who was helping the Riddler,” Red Robin stated. 

“So you’ve heard of me!” Technus beamed. “I did help him improve his weapons and drones by enhancing them with my ghostly power! But, the King didn’t like that so much even if I was only being helpful!”

“...He didn’t?”

“No, he thinks it’s wrong to help villains even though his decree only said we can’t hurt the living. He never said we couldn’t help specific mortals.” If he was going to be so bothered by it he should have been more specific in the first place! 

“Uh huh… Why are you here?”

“Well, instead of sending me back to the ghost zone—”

“Ghost zone?” Red Robin interrupted. Heroes were always interrupting. That was something they’d need to work on.

“Yes, the ghost zone! Or infinite realms if you’re feeling like a fancy pants, but I digress,” Technus said, phasing himself out of the computer to float above Red Robin. “I got special permission to continue staying here as long as I don’t help any more villains! But I still want to be surrounded by tech and being a mentor wasn’t half bad! So, I’ve decided that you are going to have the honor of being aided by the great Master of Megabytes, Technus! Ha, ha, ha!” 

“You’re going to help me? Why should I trust you?” 

“What? Why wouldn’t you trust me? If I go against the Ghost King, I’m going to get sent back to the zone, and I just got here! Do you know how long it takes to wait your turn to get out of the zone? The portal has a long line! It’s worse than your DMVs! It took ages to get here!” Seriously, these mortals didn’t appreciate how difficult it was to get here. Why would he risk getting tossed back into the zone when he just got a free pass? He wasn’t an idiot; he was a genius! 

“There’s a bunch of ghosts just waiting in line to go through one portal to our world?” Red Robin asked with a hint of dread in his voice. Perhaps he could sympathize with them. It was dreadful to wait in that stupid line. 

“Well, there are the random portals that spring up, but who knows where those ’ll drop you! I might end up somewhere without technology!” Technus shuddered at the thought. “I don’t go through those portals. I use the Fenton portal. Always puts you right in Amity, and you can go anywhere from there!”

“Fenton? Like Jack and Madeline Fenton? The ghost hunters?”

“Yeah, gotta watch out as you leave, but their portal is the most stable. It’s all technology! Nothing like the realms’ pop up portals,” Technus said, looking around the cave. “Ooo, you’ve got a lot of their tech already. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the Ecto-Foamer,” he noted, hovering above the bazooka-shaped weapon. “It’s messy, but effective! And oh, you got the Fenton Crammer? That one works on the living too, so be careful where you aim that,” he warned.

“You’re familiar with this stuff?” Red Robin questioned, reaching over to grab the Fenton Ghost Fisher. It was cute how he thought Technus wasn’t paying attention, and if it were a few years ago, he wouldn’t have, but that was a move Daniel has used against him one too many times for him to fall for it again.

“Oh yeah! I used to take control of this stuff all the time and use it against Phantom before he took the crown. Now we don’t get to battle as much. He ends it so quickly; it’s no fun anymore,” Technus lamented, dodging the fishing line that was flung at him. “Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that!” he jeered. 

“Why are you really here?”

“Why? What? Have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying? I’m a technology obsessed ghost! This is the perfect place to fulfill that obsession without breaking the King’s rules. And, I’ve given you the high honor of being my protege! What’s confusing about that?”

“Why should it be me?”

“Ah, doubting yourself, not my greatness, that makes sense!” Technus remarked. “Because I’ve seen your digital footprint all over Gotham, and beyond! I like that! Very nice work.” A green blob ghost dropped down from the ceiling of the cave onto his head. “Oof!” Technus grabbed the little creature, glaring at it. It was trying to wiggle free and attack him again, which was strange. Most blobs knew to get out of his way. “What are you doing? You— huh? You have more energy in you than any other blob ghost I’ve seen.”

“Put him down!” Red Robin ordered, grabbing one of the weapons off the table that he likely didn’t know how to use. 

“Alright, jeez, don’t, as the youth say, have a cow,” Technus said, tossing the blob off to the side. Feisty little thing, it was. “Now, are you going to accept my help or keep pointing that thing at yourself?” Technus asked with a smirk. 

Red Robin spun the weapon around so the blasty bit was actually facing Technus. A battle wouldn’t be so bad either. Just as he was getting ready for it, Red Robin lowered his weapon and said. “What can you tell me about this stuff?”

Technus rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re cooking!” He’d either used every weapon here or had it used against him, so he was an expert in the field. Time to show that off!

Chapter Text

“Really?” Danny asked incredulously as he scooped up the civilian that was trying to film the fight and nearly got crushed by falling bricks. He turned intangible, flying through the debris to drop the tourist off a block away. When he got back he was ready to give Skulker an earful. “Are you serious?” 

Skulker had just fired another barrage of rockets at one Solomon Grundy, the giant man well over seven feet tall with short white hair and gray skin. The zombified man swatted them out of the sky like gnats. His black suit and white button up shirt were covered in dirt and starting to fray. They’d definitely seen better days, but then again, they probably haven’t been washed in years, so they were holding up really well, all things considered. Made in a time when products were built to last. 

“The undead may not be as rare as a halfa, but with his brute strength, he is a foe worthy of the hunt, Welp!” Skulker argued. “Do not interfere with my— Did you get taller? Hah! It’s about time you changed up your form.” While he was turned to yell at Danny, Grundy closed the distance between them, grabbing Skulker by the waist and flinging him into a building. Skulker barely managed to turn intangible before he made contact with the wall.

When Skulker reappeared, Danny shouted, “You’re too close to regular people! Take it outside.”

Skulker opened his mouth to yell, then closed it, brows furrowed. He then said, “...We are outside.”

Danny dragged his hand down his face. “You know what I mean—” he said, throwing up a shield to stop Grundy from hitting Skulker into another building. “Move it to a park with an empty soccer field or something. There shouldn’t be that many people there now anyway.” The sun was setting and most gothamites were smart enough not to play where a rogue could be setting up for something. “I’ll do a sweep to make sure you two have enough space.” He paused. Ghosts loved to brawl. Danny wasn’t too sure about zombies, or whatever Solomon Grundy was. “Uh, do you want to keep fighting, actually? I can stop him or are you having fun kicking his tin can?” 

“Grundy don’t need help.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, but you know, as King of the Infinite Realms, it’s kinda my job to make sure all dead things are, uh, living their best afterlives? So, just let me know.” Danny gave the guy finger guns. 

Grundy paused, going over the king’s words before giving him a nod. “Great, let’s take it to the park then,” Danny said, opening a portal and pulling them both through. There were a lot of trees around when they came out the other side. Grundy was a little displaced, growling and holding his head. “Sorry about that,” Danny apologized, flying up to check their surroundings. He’d missed Grant park by a few miles because he could see Craig Bridge, but it was still a semi unpopulated part of Gotham, so he’d take it. “Don’t start until I know that no one’s going to get hurt,” Danny stated before doing a quick fly around. It was almost empty, except for the mugger cutting some lady’s purse who fled into the cover of the trees. Danny picked him up, used his belt to tie his hands to a street post and returned the purse. The woman gawked at him, but he left before she could ask him any questions, turning invisible so she didn’t try to follow him.

“Okay, the hunt begins!” Danny said as he reappeared in front of Skulker and Grundy. He floated away as the two immediately started swinging. 

Grundy had a mean right hook. 

They were doing quite a bit of deforestation that Sam would not approve of as they hit each other into trees. At one point, Grundy ripped one straight out of the ground and smacked Skulker like a baseball. Danny whistled. “Nice shot!” he remarked. Grundy grinned at him, looking quite pleased with himself. Skulker came flying back towards him, launching a missile. Grundy caught the damn thing and threw it back at him. This guy was fun.

When enough of the trees had fallen, Danny could watch the fight from a nearby rooftop. It was tall enough to give him a good overhead view. He settled in, letting his feet dangle over the side as he supervised. 

Superman clapped his hands together, garnering everyone’s attention. “So, I think it’s time we start this meeting,” he announced. The Justice Leaguers sat up straight in their chairs while he pulled up a powerpoint. There included static photos where some green, black, and blue could be made out at various times, but otherwise was incomprehensible followed by some hand drawn images. “These criminals can’t appear on film, but we’ve had some testimonies of their descriptions given to police and these were the sketches they’ve made."

Batman provided names and rap sheets for two of the images, Skulker and Technus, and there was another Unknown identified by witnesses as The Box Ghost. “They’ve mainly been appearing in Gotham,” Superman stated.

“And Bats actually wants us involved on this one?” Green Arrow asked. 

“Yeah, I thought Mr. Broody wanted to keep us out of there at all costs,” Green Lantern commented.

Both of the green clad heroes were silenced by one stern glare from Batman. It wasn’t fun to witness, let alone be on the receiving end of one of those cold, hard stares. It always sent a shiver down his spine. 

After letting them stew in it for a minute, Batman finally spoke, “This threat doesn’t exist solely in Gotham. I’ve got those handled. We’re here today because there have been other sightings as well.”

Another slide appeared with a guy that looked like a wannabe dracula that identified himself as Vlad Plasmus. Batman continued, “This suspect was in Metropolis. He appeared to be stealing something from LexCorp. It still has yet to be identified as Luther hasn’t been forthcoming in what was taken. He outright denies any theft occured.”

Hawkgirl remarked, "That's not great."

“So what kind of metas are we dealing with here?” the Flash asked.

Superman crossed his arms over his chest. “When I tried to apprehend him, he duplicated himself, and I lost track of the real one,” he admitted. “Whatever his abilities are also can hurt me. It might be magical in nature.” It certainly wasn’t kryptonite. He knew what that felt like. This was different, painful. He was lucky enough not to have many experiences with pain, but that meant he couldn’t really help out here. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, Constaintine, Zatanna, and Captain Marvel, would you like to jump in here?”

“Supernatural, not magic,” Constantine corrected.

“Uh, I don’t really have that much experience with ghosts yet,” Captain Marvel explained, fiddling with the yellow belt on his red suit. “They can be affected by magic but other than that, I don’t really know.” 

“Stronger ghosts can usually resist magic,” Constantine remarked boredly, cleaning his teeth with a toothpick.  

“Yes, which is why this is a threat we should be taking seriously ,” Zatanna stated, glaring at John. The man was entirely unphased. It was hard to gauge whether or not to be concerned by his lack of alarm or strangely comforted by it. The electric shock he’d received from Plasmus was leaning him towards the former. 

“You’re only asking because you’re all gearing to poke the nest. That’s a right dogshite idea. ”

“And what would you suggest we do?” Hawkgirl asked. 

“Threaten to call their mum,” Constaintine joked. “Works every time.”  

His strangely jovial remark was undercut by Zatanna’s face filling with dread. “You can’t possibly mean invoking the name of the High King,” she said in horror. Her heartbeat was racing but John’s was as steady as ever. 

“The new one? Yeah. A lot bloody easier than fighting that lot,” Constantine remarked. 

“What is ‘that lot?’ Because you can’t actually mean ghosts,” the Flash asked. 

“No, they’re ghosts,” Captain Marvel replied. 

“Ugh, are we really doing this again?” Constantine questioned, slumping back in his chair. “Aliens, magic, and some of you twats draw the line on ghosts? Yeah, they’re real! No, not everyone that dies becomes one. There are very specific parameters that need to be met in order for a ghost to form. Any more bloody stupid questions?” Constantine asked, rubbing his temple like he was getting a migraine. Or maybe he was hungover. 

  Diana raised her hand. “The High King is their mother?”

“Might as well be,” Constantine quipped. 

Clark rubbed his arm where the electrical energy had hit him. It was healed, but the phantom sting radiated through him. What were they getting themselves into? Zatanna seemed to fear the High King, and Constantine was actively telling them to make it the guy’s problem instead of his. If the High King really was more powerful than those other ghosts, would he stand a chance against him? Would any of them?

There was a light thud on the roof as another pair of boots landed on the concrete. 

“Hey, you don’t need to worry. They’re keeping it out of city limits, away from any civilians,” Danny assured the vigilante. 

Red Hood didn’t say anything for a few minutes, watching Grundy and Skulker duke it out under the moonlight. “So what? I’m not good enough prey anymore?” Hood huffed. 

“Did you want him to fight you? Even with your ectoplasm fixed, you’re not exactly equipped to fight ghosts,” Danny stated.

“And Grundy is?”

“Kinda? I guess in fairness you guys have the same thing going for you,” Danny remarked. 

Red Hood put a hand on his hip, “And that is?” 

“Skulker is the best hunter in the ghost zone, but he uses his tech more than his powers. He even uses his jetpack to fly.” Then again his actual ghost form was so little, it might use more energy moving that mech suit around than using the jetpack. 

“You fight him a lot?” Red Hood asked.

“Used to, and I guess I still do. Keeps us both from getting bored, though I fight him in the zone. Less collateral that way,” Danny remarked. “He used to be a pain, but I got better.” 

It might have been the calming presence he was emitting, but Red Hood did eventually sit down next to him, legs dangling from the side of the building, enjoying the scenic view of Grundy breaking another tree in half over Skulker’s head.

He didn’t take too long to ask another question. “Was the old Ghost King your toughest fight?”

Pariah Dark certainly hadn’t been easy but, “No, I think I still beat that,” Danny joked. 

“...” Red Hood stared at him. “What?”

And Danny had once again forgotten about context. Now he had a choice. Tell the truth, lie, or avoid answering altogether. The thing was, Hood was one of his people, and even though he was a bat, and it was probably going to be his worst decision as king ever, especially with his luck, but he liked being honest with his subjects. It was something he had come to terms with.

“I had to fight myself one time. An evil version of me, from the future. I guess it wasn’t technically just me, since he was fused with this other, very annoying, ghost and they became my dark future. It was “the bad timeline” where my family and friends died inadvertently because of me, and he was the result of my grief. So, I stopped him, saved everyone, and now live with the fear that one day I’ll turn into him anyway even though Clockwork said it won’t happen.”

“...”

“Oh, uh, Clockwork is one of the Ancients, a ghost who sort of rules over time and makes sure that everything is flowing correctly. I guess he’s one of my advisors now that I’m king.”

“...”

“I’m doing my best not to go down that road. Ever,” Danny assured him. 

“What the fuck is your life?” 

Danny was startled into a fit of laughter. Of all the possible reactions to Dark Danny, that wasn’t one he’d expected. “Man, I wish I knew,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face.

Red Hood shook his head, looking out over Gotham. “And I thought my life was fucked up.” 

They fell into silence again after that. Because, what was he supposed to say to that? Who would have thought with Jason’s life, he should actually be counting his blessings? At least he only fought his ‘dark self’ internally. 

Jason drummed his fingers on the roof as he tried to think of a smooth way to direct the conversation when he decided, fuck it. Phantom was pretty straightforward anyway. “This is gonna be an out of left field question, but do you know how to stabilize a ghost clone?”

“Uh… Yeah, but can I ask why?”

“Wait, you do?” What the fuck was this guy’s life? His dark self wasn’t a clone that was time travel bullshit, so he ran into ghost clones some other way?

“Yeah, so one of my nemesis made a clone of me a while ago, so I have some experience in the matter.” 

“Weird as fuck, but okay,” Jason remarked and Danny snorted. “My sibling accidentally mixed my blood with some chemical that made a... Well it’s not like a one for one clone but it’s definitely here.”

“Neither was mine,” Danny replied. “Ghost biology is weird like that I guess.”

“You guess?” It’d be nice if the High King could be confident in his answers. He needed this shit to be accurate. Finn wasn’t going to get better with a guess.

“Look, I didn’t make my clone. They found me.”

Whatever. Phantom didn’t need to be an expert, he just needed to know how to fix it. And Jason needed to steer the conversation before it veered off track. The High King lost his train of thought faster than he found it. “How did you stabilize them?” Jason asked.

“There’s a chemical compound called Ecto Dejecto. A… scientist from my old haunt created it. It was supposed to weaken ghosts but it actually made them stronger. That’s why it was able to stabilize my clone. I can get some for you.” 

So it was a fuck up. Noted. 

“I know you’re the High King or whatever, but wouldn’t that be hard if an anti-ghost scientist is the one who made it?” Jason asked. If he was right, that’s where all of the new weapons Tim had picked up were from , and potentially their only real defense against the guy if he went rogue. Though it sounds like he already did, and he managed to sort it out himself. 

“It was a little tricky back in the day with their anti-ghost security system, but I have my ways,” Phantom said, opening a portal. An alarm started blaring with a voice recording shouting that ghosts were here immediately followed by the sound of lasers firing. Danny winced like he’d burnt his tongue on a cup of coffee and pulled his smoking, but otherwise unharmed, arm out from the portal with two vials of Ecto Dejecto. “Here, that should do it.”

It should probably unsettle him that their only defense against ghosts barely seemed to phase the guy, but more than that, he was just… confused. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Didn’t you want to stabilize your clone?” somehow Phantom sounded even more befuddled. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to help me.” He’d honestly been kind of a thorn in the guy’s ass. And now he just had more problems. It wasn’t his job to help every ghost. From what Zatanna said about the last guy, the High King could do whatever he wanted. He certainly didn’t have to go and grab him some of the chemical he needed. Telling him about it was all he needed to know. Breaking into their lab wouldn’t be that different from what Jason already does. 

“I like helping people,” Danny retorted. And you know what? He honestly believed the guy when he said it. 

“...Thanks,” Jason said, taking the vials. Bruce be damned he was feeding both to his kid the second Batman went out for patrol. He just had to wait for B. to ask Oracle something and race home. Finn was gonna be fine. “I.. I appreciate it.”

“Hey! No problem, just two dead guys with clones helping each other out!” Danny joked, lightly bumping his fist against Jason’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, just two dead beats.”
“Hey, I am a great older cousin to my clone.”

“Cousin?” Jason asked, arching his brow even though Phantom couldn’t see it behind his helmet.

“I mean it’s only a few years difference between us and we’re not really siblings either since my clone is off traveling and we only spend a little time together, so cousins!” 

“Huh,” Jason remarked. Unlike Phantom, he was definitely the father.

“Oh, blasting off again,” Danny said, holding his hand above his eyes to block out the glare from a store sign as Skulker was launched off in the sky, joining the stars. “Like team Rocket.”

Grundy was walking back to a sewer grate with a pretty smug look on his face, illuminated by a flickering street lamp. 

“Who would win in a fight? Superman or the Ghost King?”

Technus scoffed. “What? Is that even a question? The Ghost King of course! I could defeat your little super-man ! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Right…” Tim muttered as he filed that away in his new folder on ghosts. Technus outstretched his hand and added his own flourishes which mainly consisted of changing some of titles like Duke of Data whenever there was a reference to himself. “If Superman’s no match for you, what would be?”

“Nothing could best the great and powerful Technus! But if you are referring to ghosts in general, then those ecto-weapons you already have will do the trick just fine. Just like how ghosts can fight each other, things that use our ecto-energy can also damage or restrain us.”

Perfect. That’s what he needed confirmed. So long as Technus was actually telling the truth and not setting them up for failure. He didn’t seem like he would plan that far in advance, but why would he be so forthcoming with information that actively posed a threat to him? Unless the guy was actually arrogant enough to think that even with the ‘ghost-hunting’ weaponry, they still wouldn’t stand a chance against him. The overconfidence seemed genuine. 

One way to test him was to see if he’d try to improve or sabotage his current designs for the new batarangs. He’d only had a handful ready for testing, but with what he got from the other weapons he deconstructed, he could easily make a few more new toys. Tim pulled up his files on the batcomputer and said, “Here are some of the schematics I’ve come up with after analyzing some of these weapons. What are your thoughts on—”

“Ah, ah ah, I can’t help you make new weapons.” Technus said, waving his finger at him. “The Ghost King forbade it after I helped the last guy out. But, you have plenty of stuff already. What more could you want?”

“Of course he did,” Tim sighed, dragging his hand down his face. 

“Look, instead of all the heavy sighs and complaining, why don’t we test out some of these babies!” Technus suggested.

“And how are we going to do that?” Tim questioned. The ghost seemed pretty eager to get him to use those weapons. It could be an opportunity to learn, or something more nefarious but what? It’d be nice to know what the High King’s actual decrees were so he knew if Technus was lying and claiming whatever he didn’t want to do as a rule he can’t break and say he could bend them around what he wanted. 

“I may not be permitted to harm the living, but that only applies if I attack first,” Technus stated. “So, I’ll allow you a free shot!”

“That’s how his rules work?” Tim questioned, shooting the ghost a skeptical look. 

“We’re allowed to defend ourselves. Do you think you’re the only one running around with weapons like that?” Technus questioned. “Now, did you want to spar or not?”

It would be the best way to practically test out how the weapons handled in the field in a controlled environment… Tim grabbed some sort of gun off the table and fired. He didn’t want to hit anything that could be vital, if ghosts still had vital points… 

“Wow, that burned!” Technus commented, clutching his shoulder. “Heh, this’ll be fun!” His eyes glowed as his grin grew.

“I didn’t realize you had a masochistic side,” Tim remarked. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, child,” Technus warned, manipulating all of the loose tech in the batcave, pulling it towards himself, constructing an armored suit to pilot. Shit. “I'm a manipulator of machines! Master of Technology! None can stand before my technological might!”

That was… a bigger threat than he originally anticipated. Definitely more than a B tier villain. Luckily for Tim, Technus was nothing, if not, distractible. “Even the Ghost King?” Tim goaded, backflipping to dodge a blast of green energy.  

Technus faltered, lowering his weapon as he stammered a response, “...I am superior in intellect to him!”

“Is that all?” Tim quipped as he threw a little green grenade at him that Technus blocked with a green barrier wall. Luckily the explosion was small or that would have drastically backfired. 

Technus frowned, “Is that all?” he parroted. “Child, you haven’t seen a kilobyte of what I’m capable of!” He held out his hand. His palm opened up to reveal another blaster. “Taste my power, child!” he shouted as he shot Tim. 

Shit. 

Tim jumped behind a table, flipping it up to create a barrier that managed to absorb the blast. “If you’re so powerful, why don’t you fight the Ghost King?”

“...” Technus paused in his tracks. Hovering still in the air. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I’m smart enough to know Phantom can’t be defeated, not anymore,” Technus stated definitively. “ You on the other hand—” he said, levitating the table away and blasting Tim into a wall. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

The game of cat and mouse lasted longer than Tim had hoped when he originally started this sparring session, and why did he do that again? More than half the weapons he wanted to test were currently stuck to Technus and being used against him.

Tim could feel his muscles straining as he tucked and rolled away from another blast, taking aim and firing the ecto-foamer. It did make a mess on the floor, but it dried around Technus’s left leg, holding his mech suit in place long enough for him to take the ghost light saber he bought and slice through it. 

Technus laughed, “Thanks for freeing me from the foam!” He hovered above him as a mech suit with only a torso as he shifted the gadgets around him to make a slimmer version of the suit he was wearing before. Fuck. “Try again next time!” he shouted, launching a net at him that tangled him up in the corner. 

Hopefully Technus wasn’t all talk and he really was one of the stronger ghosts, because if they were all like that, or worse, and hundreds of ghosts were pouring in from a portal every day, they were not going to be okay.

"Disengage battle protocols! Engage gratuitous gloating! Hahaha- ha!" Technus laughed loudly, hands on his hips. “Not only is Technus the Master of Megabytes and the Sultan of Software, but he's also the Wizard of Winning!"

At least this did seem to just be a spar because he made no moves to finish him off. He was too busy being a sore winner.

While Technus was in the middle of his victory dance, a glowing green batarang whipped through the air, lodging itself deep in Technus’s shoulder. He barely had time to acknowledge it before it set a shockwave through his entire being.

“Agh!” Technus yelped in pain, struggling to pull the batarang free when Bruce came in, still dawning his cape and cowl, kicking Technus’s head as he swung down, grappling hook clinging to one of the stalactites. The ghost let out an “Oof,” as he was knocked across the floor. “Who dares?!” Technus began, before locking eyes with Bruce and squinting at him. “Oh, it’s you. The Bat-Man.” 

“It’s me,” Bruce agreed. There was an edge to his voice that only came out when one of his was in danger. 

“Wait, I can explain—” Tim said, using a batarang to free himself from the netting. Luckily regular blades seemed to cut through the ‘ghost resistant material’ with ease. And just when he was about to go into great, and only somewhat exaggerated, detail about what was happening, Technus cut him off.

“Well it is your honor to meet the great, almighty Technus!” he said.

Bruce, predictably, threw another batarang at him, but Technus phased right through it. “Do you really think I’d fall for the same trick twice?” the ghost asked.

“Can everyone take a second to talk this one out. He’s not here as a threat, B. He was sparring with me,” Tim said, and while Bruce’s glare was still locked onto Technus, he could feel it pointed at himself.

“You brought him here?” Bruce questioned.

“He brought himself here,” Tim replied, internally wincing as he saw Bruce tense up. “He’s teaching me about ghosts?”

“Allow me to introduce myself again,” Technus said, sending the gadgets back to the table and dusting his actual form off. “I am the ghost zone’s most technological genius! The Grandmaster of Gadgets, Technus! Since my obsession is with all things technology, finding a haunt like this—”

“Haunt?” Bruce interrupted. He did not sound happy. That was understandable since the ghost had moved himself into Bruce’s home and he didn’t have black hair or blue eyes, so his likelihood of being adopted was slim. He and Damian had about the same arrogance though, so who’s to say.

“Yes, what? What do you not understand this time?” Technus asked, hands on his hips. He really seemed to think everything he said was common knowledge, if he was being honest and not playing some long game with them. 

“What’s a haunt?” Tim asked. 

“A haunt is a haunt! An area of territory claimed by someone. It’s a, as the youth say, calling dibs. Any other ghosts have to compete with me if they want to come here, and only a fool would try to enter the Overlord of Ones and Zeroes‘s domain. Humans have haunts too, do they not?”

“I think it’s only called a haunt if you're dead,” Tim commented.

“Really? I swear I’ve heard the youth use it too somewhere…” Technus muttered, waving his hand as he continued on, “Ehh, who cares, you know what I meant, though, right?” 

“Hnng,” Bruce muttered. 

Chapter Text

Tim caught his breath, glaring at the thin pink sausage that was hissing from beneath the net it was tangled in. It still had splotches of ketchup and mustard that it tracked all over the cave. Alfred was not going to be pleased with that.

“What was that?” Tim asked.

Technus floated above the, arms folded over his chest, leaning back leisurely. “Hmm? What? The hot-dog? You have all this ectoplasm everywhere. What did you expect? You get enough of it in one place, and ectoplasm can reanimate meat,” Technus remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. “Everybody knows that.”

“Not everybody knows that,” Tim hissed, clawing his fingers through his hair on the verge of tearing it out.

Technus sighed. “You are very lucky to have the great and powerful Technus to guide you,” he remarked. “You’re not very good at this.”

Damian huffed a tiny laugh. The corner of his lip curled up in a smirk.

“Like you knew,” Tim scoffed. 

“If you didn’t leave everything in a state of disarray, then none of this would have happened, Drake,” Damian scolded as he crouched down beside the hotdog.

“Yeah, it would have never happened to you,” Tim snarked.

“It’s not going to reanimate celery sticks,” Damian retorted dryly. He picked up the net and the hotdog inside. Strangely it seemed to calm down once it was in his arms. 

“It wasn’t even my food!” Tim argued. 

Bruce was pinching the bridge of his nose. From the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness of his frame, it was obvious he was not happy about the current ghost-problems they’d been afflicted with. Bruce heaved a heavy sigh. 

“Red Robin, set up a containment area for that thing,” Bruce ordered while Damian untangled it from the net. Instead of fleeing, the reanimated hotdog nuzzled itself into the menace’s arms. Guess the two had something in common.

Tim didn’t have a chance to even try setting up some sort of containment device when Bruce scowled and sternly said, “Robin, you’re not keeping it.”

Damian turned and headed swiftly towards the elevator. 

Bruce narrowed his eyes, raising his voice as he said, “I mean it, Robin. You are not keeping that.”

The doors shut and Damian ascended back to the manor.

Bruce sighed, pinching his brow. “He’s going to keep that thing.”

“Undoubtedly,” Tim agreed. 

“It’s going to get moldy,” Bruce bemoaned, pressing his hand to his forehead.

“Unless the ectoplasm preserves it,” Tim theorized.

Bruce headed over to the batmobile. “I’m going on patrol,” he stated, resigning the manor to its fate. “If Robin comes back down here, inform him that he’s grounded for the next week, no, month.” 

Wind whipped through his snow white hair as Danny leisurely flew a few laps around Gotham, staying intangible so he didn’t get noticed. It felt good to feel the air against his skin as he soared above his problems. As much as he longed to be normal, flight was a perk he’d gladly unlive with. On his last lap he decided to fly through the streets, see what he was missing by avoiding the Gotham nightlife. It was a lot less leisure as Lady Gotham directed him to muggings that didn’t have a bat around to deal with it. He flew through the muggers, taking their guns with them as he did. When they suddenly didn’t have a weapon, their would-be victims were quick to turn the tables and start beating them. It was pretty satisfying to watch, but he warned Lady Gotham, “I’m not taking over your knight’s job. I have homework.” She didn’t give him any acknowledgement and continued to tug on his core and drag him around, which led him to the three guns currently resting in his torso. 

“Jeez, I’ve got plenty of ghost guns, but what am I supposed to do with this?” Danny pondered as he pulled a glock from his stomach. “What do you do with guns? Wait, I know!” Danny said, flying to the nearest police station and phasing into the evidence locker. “There, home sweet home,” Danny remarked as he placed the guns on an empty shelf. Curiosity got the better of him, because there was a lot of stuff here. A handful of boxes were for normal, domestic cases, and then they had things like Harley Quinn’s giant mallet, Penguin’s umbrella, and the Riddler’s cane. Thankfully it looked like Technus hadn’t messed with that at all even though he could see there was some sort of taser device installed in the cane. 

The door opened and Danny jumped, ending up inside one of the shelves. He intangibly poked his head out to see three people walking in, two dressed as officers and one woman in a red jacket over a black shirt with grey slacks. Her long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. 

“Ellen, where’d you say the evidence for that case was being stored again?” the cop on her left asked, reached around to put his arm around her.

“Don’t use my first name. We’re not close enough for that Officer Dooley,” she stated, removing his hand from her shoulder.

“Detective Yin, you’ve been doing a hell of a job with the Sullivan case. Mickey’s gonna be behind bars soon because of you.”

“It’s because of his own actions,” Yin corrected. 

“You got a good heart, Yin,” Officer remarked. “Don’t see too many people like you in Gotham.”

“They never last,” the other one added as he unholstered his pistol. “It’s a shame you couldn’t keep your nose out of this one. I tried to tell you the Sullivan’s are dangerous. They’ve got ties with the Falcone’s, after all. And the Falcone’s are the only way to make rent with this gig.”

“Woah!” Danny exclaimed as he put a shield up to stop the bullet from hitting the detective. “I knew Gotham was corrupt, but I didn’t think it was this bad,” he said, icing the two officers' feet to the ground. He patted them down, taking away their guns and a few hidden knives. After dropping those in a little pile out of the officers' reach, he made himself visible as he checked on the detective, who may or may not be good, but at least she wasn’t corrupt. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Detective Ellen Yin asked.

“Yeah, you seem fine,” Danny said, going intangible before flying through the walls and back home. 

As he settled down in his deskchair, two white rings washed over him, returning him to his human half. He stretched his arms above his head before opening his laptop. “At least the homework is easy. Post something from class on the discussion board,” he mumbled under his breath as he tried to motivate himself to push through the boredom. Becoming an astronaut would be worth the trouble. 

After he finished typing out a small paragraph, he clicked submit. And he waited. And waited. And an error popped up on screen! No wifi. Danny groaned, hitting the back of his head against the seat cushion. “Nooooo,” he whined. “TUCKER!” Danny yelled. 

“Already working on it!” Tucker shouted back.

“If this thing doesn’t start working in the next five minutes, I’m summoning Technus to fix it,” Danny grumbled to himself. 

His phone still had service, so at least there was that. Danny drummed his fingers on his armrest and before he could second guess himself, sent Jason a text asking how his day was. A normal, incredibly boring way to start a conversation again. 

Jason was suddenly very glad he kept his helmet on. He stared in disbelief as he parked his bike in the cave. “I thought Phantom souped you,” he remarked, staring at the floating green ghost that was a few feet above his brother. Tim looked like he was on the verge of willingly going to bed if it meant getting out of here.

“That was true, but a thing of the past! I, the great and powerful Technus, have come here with permission from the Ghost King!”

“...Why?” Jason tentatively asked, unsure if he wanted the answer.

Technus heaved a heavy sigh. “Don’t you guys know anything? This is all basic stuff, really,” Technus said, shaking his head. “As ghosts, we have to fulfill our obsessions. The King is allowing me to stay in order to fulfill my obsession, so as long as I don’t help any villains I’m free to stay in this mortal realm!”

“Okay, but why did you come here ?” Jason clarified.

“Because you mentioned the Red Robin, and I thought, hey! That’s not a bad idea! I’ll mentor him instead!”

Tim turned and glared at Jason. “So it was your doing?”

“I am not taking responsibility for this,” Jason deflected, raising both of his hands. “Where’s my kid?”

“Alfred took them upstairs,” Tim replied.

When Jason reached the manor, he left his helmet and jacket in the elevator. It was actually really easy to pinpoint where Finn was. Because someone definitely took him from Alfred because there was no way the man would have put on whatever baby video was playing loudly through the halls. It was coming from the library.

“Can you pretend to be toast with me?” the cheerful, feminine voice asked before singing, “I’m toast in the toaster, I’m getting very hot. Tick tock, tick tock, up I pop! Hahaha, let’s do that again! That was fun!” 

The voice was coming from Steph’s phone as she held it out for Finn to watch while she tried and failed to coax him into her lap. She sat cross-legged on the carpet.

“What the hell are you doing to my kid?”

“It’s Ms. Rachel and he’s technically our kid because I made him. You’re just the gene donor,” Steph said.

“I’m not sharing custody with you,” Jason stated. “Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”

“Dinner break,” Steph replied when her stomach audibly grumbled. “I left my food in the cave. It’s probably cold now. Maybe Alfred has something I can snack on.”

“There’s always some sandwiches in the fridge,” Jason replied. 

“Then I’ll leave our little ray of sunshine with you,” Steph said as she sprinted down the hall towards the kitchen. She yelled over her shoulder, “I get him on weekends and some holidays!” 

“Over my reanimated corpse!” Jason retorted. 

Finn looked up at him but didn’t move any closer. Now that it was just the two of them, Jason knelt down on the floor and extended his hand slowly for Finn to inspect. Like the last time, Finn sniffed his hand before gently rubbing up against it, then, he crawled into Jason’s lap. “I’m glad you know which one’s your real parent,” Jason mumbled as a grin spread across his lips. Now that he had a better feel for Finn, his son was sort of like a water balloon, at least in how his weight distributed itself.

Jason carefully retrieved the vials Phantom had given him without disturbing his son. “I got you something good. Drink up buddy,” Jason murmured. Finn opened his jaw wide, and Jason avoided the green jagged teeth as he poured the first vial down Finn’s mouth. At first, nothing happened, then Finn grew, bigger and bigger from a cantaloupe to a watermelon, then the green started to fade and his blob body shifted to a toddler. He had black hair and glowing blue eyes, pale skin that was actual skin and not green ooze. Finn was probably about the size of a one year old, maybe two years old, tops. “For good measure,” Jason said as he gave Finn the second vial. His eyes glowed brighter until they didn’t and they were a more natural crystal blue. Finn’s skin was tanner, and his smile no longer jagged. He had regular, little baby teeth. 

“I liked him better before,” Damian remarked as he stood in the hallway.

Two white rings encompassed Finn’s body and as they passed over him, he returned to his green, orb body. 

Jason ignored his brother for the moment and carefully stood up with Finn cradled to his chest. He didn’t need his kid to look like him, but there was also a chance Damian had bad timing and Finn ran out of juice and couldn’t hold his form anymore. He might need something to stabilize him. “Can you go back and forth?” Jason asked. 

Finn nodded, which as a blob was almost his entire body. He was nonverbal now, but he might be able to talk. Maybe some of those stupid videos would actually help him with that. Or Jason could read to him. God, he needed to buy more books.

Damian asked, “Does he have a room yet? He can stay in mine.”

“I’m taking him with me.” He could always drop him off with Alfred for babysitting whenever he needed to.

“Is your apartment child safe?” Alfred asked as he returned from whatever task pulled him away from Finn and left him with Steph. Probably a phone call.

Even if Jason didn’t have a multitude of weapons hidden throughout his many safehouses, none of them were set up to be childproofed in the traditional sense either. He had pointy-edged tables a kid could hit their head on, power outlets a fork could go in, and whatever else parents needed to worry about. “...No…” Jason mumbled. 

“Then I shall insist that Master Finn stay in the manor for the time being.”

Jason pursed his lips in a thin line but didn’t argue. Alfred was right. He always was.

“If you’d like to stay with him, your room is always available here.” 

“Thanks, Alfred, but I’m going to have to pass,” Jason insisted. He needed his space, his privacy, even without the pit, he was a grown man now. Nineteen! 

The white rings were back and once again, Finn the toddler was sitting comfortably in his arms. As Finn rested his head against Jason, he could feel Finn’s hair tickling his neck. Finn’s weight against his chest made something inside him warm. He was starting to understand why his dad had a habit of adopting so many kids, though Jason would stick with the one, for now. 

“Can I get the Chili with extra meat in it? Oh yeah! If you can do triple, I’ll take that!” Tucker said, phone pressed between his shoulder and his cheek as he played with the controller in his hands. “A bag of chips, extra sauce, and yeah, delivery please! Thanks.”

“You’re calling in your order?” Danny asked as he uncovered the pot of boiling water on the stove and poured in the penne pasta. “Why not just use the app.”

When he finished hanging up, he let the phone fall on the couch. “Because the app doesn’t let me order my chili with triple meat, Danny,” Tucker explained. “Some places are willing to accommodate my needs, and I’m willing to call in if it means triple meat. That’s three times the meat, Danny. Three! Could you imagine if I just ordered on the app and got regular chili?”

“Uh huh,” Danny said, slowly backing away. “I’m going back to making the pasta,” he said. “Sam did you want red or white sauce?”

“Red, and add the spinach from the fridge,” Sam replied as she dipped her paintbrush in green, metallic paint. She carefully traced the letters she’d pre-spaced out with pencil to ensure everything would fit. When she was done, it read, “PLANTS OVER PRODUCTS” with some leaf details around the sides.  

Danny cracked open a jar of store-brand sauce. He poured it into a pan on low heat and opened a portal inside the fridge to grab the spinach. It was pre-washed so he just had to throw it in and watch the giant pile of leaves wilt down until there was more red than green. 

“Cheese?” 

“I think we used all of what we had in the fridge. There should be a thing of parmesan in the cabinet.” 

Danny floated up, sticking his head through the cabinet doors until he found the plastic tube of grated parmesan and romano. It only took a few minutes for the pasta to cook and the sauce to heat up. Danny filled up two bowls and placed them on the bar-counter that wrapped around the kitchen.

“Alright, let the paint dry and come sit down, pasta’s ready!” Danny called. 

Sam carefully stepped away from her paints, so as not to smudge anything, and joined him, sitting on the barstools. 

While they sat at the counter, shoveling penne in their faces, Danny’s phone vibrated. He pulled it free and Jason texted him back. His excitement quickly turned to nerves when he read, “I found out I had a kid I didn’t know about. I understand if that means you don’t want to see me anymore. It’s a lot of baggage.”

Danny replied, “No, that’s totally fine!” Maybe he was more desperate than he thought. A kid definitely complicated things, but it wasn’t the end of the world. He had a weird enough life. And Jason was really hot. “Unless you wanted to try to get back with your ex?” Maybe Jason wasn’t giving him an out, but letting him down easy.

“No ex. They’re not in the picture. Part of why he’s with me now.” 

Speaking of picture, Jason sent a selfie of him with an adorable toddler, sucking his thumb and resting his little head against that broad chest. Whether he got a DNA test or not, it looked like it was definitely Jason’s.

“What’s their name?”

“Finn. My grandfather’s gonna help me watch him while I’m at work, and if you’re up for it, I did say I’d show you that other museum.”

“If you’re not too busy, yeah! I’d love to. Just let me know when you’re free.” 

“Definitely.”

Danny grinned, grabbing a napkin to wipe the red sauce staining his mouth. He made a mental note to work on his manners.

Jason quickly deleted the texts from his messages and his trash folder before any of his siblings could find any traces of the messages. Danny might have abnormal parents and some weird tech, but he was cute and he liked Jane Austin and by some miracle, he didn’t care that Jason was a single dad now. He’d have to figure out if Danny was as anti-ghost as his parents for the sake of his kid. He gave off the vibe that he didn’t share their hobby. Hopefully, his instincts were right. 

Chapter Text

Spectra leaned back against the cold stone wall as she waited for her coworker to turn the corner. Bertrand had made himself intangible and flew into Dr. Young's research lab inside the Medical Building. Whatever mess she was cooking up in there would be easily sabotaged and then Spectra could get back to her peaceful life of making everyone else miserable. With how much time and effort Dr. Young spent toiling away on her project, she’d surely be despondent to have such a setback. Spectra grinned. 

After waiting for a few minutes, Dr. Young finally finished her meeting with Sharp. For a Doctor, she was still young, looking fresh out of school. She kept her long, dark brown hair in a ponytail. Despite never seeming to go out in the sun, she had tanned skin that contrasted her blue eyes. She only ever wore her Arkham Asylum uniform whereas Spectra burned it the day it was given to her. She kept the lab coat, but that was all she was willing to compromise on. 

Spectra stepped out, purposefully bumping into Dr. Young. “Oh, I am so sorry!” she apologized.

“Watch where you’re going,” Dr. Young huffed. 

“I must have had my head in the clouds! I didn’t even see you,” Spectra joked. “You know, I was actually hoping to run into you. I’m still getting used to this and learning everyone’s names. Yours isn’t as hard since we’re both Penelopes! Isn’t that great?”

“Dr. Spectra, I have work to do,” Dr. Young dismissed, attempting to push past her.

“Yes, I’m sure, Dr. Young, but surely you could spare a few minutes of your time. We could even talk about work if you’d like,” Spectra offered, using a bit of influence and the inherent power of social convention. “I saw you prescribed some treatments to my patients as well. I’m more knowledgeable in mental science, but I believe chemistry is more your forte. Could you tell me about what you gave them and why?” 

“There isn’t any point in explaining something you won’t understand,” Dr. Young snarked. 

Spectra smiled. “You are so advanced, someone like me probably couldn’t keep up,” she agreed. “It must be difficult even making acquaintances when no one you meet is able to keep up with your level. You must have some very intelligent friends.”

“I don’t need friends,” Dr. Young retorted. “I need results.”

“Oh my,” Spectra replied. “Overworking yourself so that you don’t have time to think about your own solitude.”

“What did you just say?” Dr. Young questioned.
“If you ever want to talk, my door is always open,” Spectra said, placing her hand on Dr. Young’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “Stop by. I’ll send Bertrand out. It’ll be just us girls.” 

“Not likely,” she said with a sneer. Dr. Young shrugged off Spectra’s hand and huffed, stomping off down the hall. 

Spectra couldn’t wipe away her grin as she sauntered back to her own office. They made it so easy to get under their skin. It was child’s play. She sat down at her desk and pulled out her Ecto-Perfecto, spraying the air around her. The sweet concoction gently fell, covering her form with energy. “Mmmm, that’s the stuff,” Spectra remarked, setting the bottle back on her desk. “How long do you think we set her back for?” she asked, smirking as she spun her chair around, locking eyes with Bertrand, who shifted back into his human form. 

“That depends,” Bertrand said, matching her wicked grin. “I may have tangled the wires in her computers a bit, but she’s got a bigger problem than that. Turns out Bane didn’t escape from Blackgate. She had him strung up in there, draining the venom from his system.”

Spectra quirked an eyebrow, “Had?”

“Yes, past tense,” Bertrand confirmed as a scream reverberated through the  hallway. Not an entirely uncommon sound for Arkham, but it wasn’t from one of the inmates. The voice was too shrill. “Some of the vials she collected were left out in the open. He’s probably taken a few by now.”

“What an unfortunate coincidence that all happened to be there,” Spectra remarked, popping a piece of fudge in her mouth. Dark chocolate and peppermint swirl sated the hunger within her.  

There was a loud crash that shook the building, but instead of stopping, the thunderous noise was growing closer, and that scream was getting louder. From the small window on her door, Spectra watched Dr. Young running down the corridor. Seconds later, Bane was on her tail. He tore her door from its hinges as he blindly grabbed chunks of concrete from the walls as he propelled himself forward. His hulking frame scraped the sides of the corridor. The tubes on his black suit were glowing from the venom being pumped directly into his veins. 

“Oh great, if he does any more damage that brat is going to blame us for it,” Spectra grumbled, rubbing her temples. 

Bertrand wrinkled his nose and said, “Why couldn’t that muscle-brained oaf have just killed her and left? If he made it quick we’d have an excuse.”

“I know,” Spectra sighed. “He just had to let her run off.”

“She’s not even fast,” Bertrand commented. 

“But she knows the layout better than him,” Spectra stated. “Go overshadow her body and keep it alive. I don’t want Danny giving us any grief because some measly human died.”

“On my way,” Bertrand said, shifting into his hornet form and going intangible as he flew ahead of Bane and easily caught up with Dr. Young. He’d be able to add some endurance to her feeble body.

Spectra took one last piece of fudge before navigating the hallway that looked like a bulldozer had just squeezed through it. When she caught up to the group, that behemoth had Dr. Young in his grasp. 

“Bane, or should I say Eduardo Dorrance,” Spectra began, subtly influencing her words to captivate him. Bane was breathing heavily, clutching tightly to the concrete in one fist and Dr. Young in the other. “Forced to serve out your father’s life prison sentence. What an unfair hand you were dealt. But you didn’t let that stop you. Despite growing up in Santa Prisca’s Peña Duro, you trained both your mind and body, reading whatever books you could and bodybuilding those muscles of yours. You’re even fluent in multiple languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English, Farsi, Urdu and Latin.”

“How do you know that?” Bane questioned. 

“I didn’t come to Gotham without doing my research first,” Spectra stated. “You’ve got quite the court case on your hands.”

“Ha,” Bane mocked. “Property damage and soon, murder, again,” he listed, tightening his hand around Dr. Young’s throat.

“No, I meant you can sue Arkham and Blackgate. Property damage is understandable when someone is escaping from their kidnapper.”

“You think I’m stupid?” Bane questioned, but his grip loosened ever so slightly.

“Inmates have sued their prisons and won before. Your case is especially cut and dry. Not only would you get your freedom but quite the settlement. There’s still evidence that you were taken from your cell and transferred without proper cause. Then there’s the experimentation charges. If you kill Dr. Young now, you’ll lose the biggest piece of evidence you have, and get yourself another sentence. Without her as your scapegoat, they’ll pin it on you. Why end her life when you can ruin it?”

Bane didn’t reply, but he hadn’t killed her yet either. Spectra continued, “Think about it, Arkham is the only prison that would ever consider hiring someone with her track record, and they’ll never let her back if she costs them money and their public image. She’ll go to jail for it too. Her suffering has only just begun. Are you really going to end it now for a moment of self gratification?" 

“Who’ll take my side?” Bane questioned. “Who’s to say they won’t spin it all against me to save her?”

“I heard everything,” Batman said as he appeared behind Spectra in what remained of the hallway. How he managed to do it so quietly was a mystery, but she was focused on the man in front of her.  “I’ll make sure you get a fair trial, Bane,” Batman promised. “Just put the doctor down.” 

Bane hesitated. His mind was torn between a fleeting moment of satisfaction and the promise of justice . He just needed another little push. “He didn’t say you had to do it gently,” Spectra commented.

Bane grinned beneath his black and white luchador mask. He threw Dr. Young at the wall. Batman rushed to her side, throwing some pill at Bane that exploded into ice, freezing his feet to the ground while Batman checked on Dr. Young. She was fine, of course. Bertrand phased out of her and signaled to Spectra that he’d take the long way around to regroup with her. It helped to keep appearances. 

Once Batman was satisfied with Dr. Young’s breathing, he put some special handcuffs on Bane, who didn’t resist. He was smarter than he looked. That’d help his case. He might just be a free man before spiraling into crime again.

Batman stalked up to Spectra, towering over her. It was adorable how he was attempting to intimidate her. He didn’t say a word, but the question was obvious. “I know it might not be the most conventional method, but did you want him to put her down or not? Victims can’t so easily forgive their abusers. Sometimes you have to throw them a bone,” Spectra explained. 

Batman narrowed his eyes, but left it at that, instead asking, “Are you willing to testify about what you’ve seen?”

“I’m afraid Dr. Young kept her research a secret, so I haven’t seen all that much, but I’ll be happy to testify.”

“How’d you know Bane was the victim?”

“A criminal who supposedly escaped Blackgate appearing inside Arkham attacking the doctor with secret research no one outside of her team is privy too? And Bane is known for his Venom addiction. She’s a chemist. It’s really not that difficult to put the pieces together,” Spectra surmised. She clutched her head and let herself stumble back before catching herself. “Sorry, I think the adrenaline is finally wearing off,” she joked. 

“Go back to your office and rest. I’ll sort things out here. Gotham P.D. is on their way,” Batman stated. And he didn’t have to tell her twice.

“Huh? It’s wrong, but your work shows that you should have gotten it right. Let me check,” Poindexter said as he scanned the sheet of paper. “I see. You almost solved it correctly. Here, you wrote it down right, but then you plugged it into your calculator wrong. You subtracted when you should have added here.”

“Aw man, I could’ve sworn I hit the right button,” Danny bemoaned, dropping his calculator on the table to claw his fingers through his hair. “I’m gonna fail because of a typo.”

“You’re hardly going to fail,” Poindexter said flatly, rolling his eyes. “Stop wallowing and keep working.”

Danny wrinkled his nose but picked his pencil back up and started on the next problem. He wanted to whine some more, but he should at least try to keep his voice down in the library. That was probably why Poindexter suggested it when they were leaving the condo. 

He was halfway through his next equation when Barbara rolled up to their table. She was really quiet. He only noticed because he caught her out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, stranger. Find your backpack?” she asked.

“I did!” Danny replied, reaching around his chair to grab it and hold it up. “Thanks for your help the other day.”

“Of course, it’s part of my job,” she joked. “So, what brings you back this time?”

“My roommates were kinda being loud,” Danny said. He could still picture Sam’s screaming match as Tucker baited her into debating him about how much of an impact her protest would actually have vs the risk of willingly being outside for hours in Gotham. While Sam was educating Tucker, Danny couldn’t educate himself. “So I decided to come here to study, and Poin- uh,” Danny stopped himself before he could finish the name, since he didn’t want to come off like he was insulting the ghost. “ Sidney is here to help.” Why did he have to have such an unfortunate, albeit fitting, last name?

“Yes, he needs it,” Poindexter commented, pushing his large, round glasses up his nose. 

“Hey!” Danny said with mock dismay.

“That bad?” Barbara asked, leaning back into her wheelchair and resting her chin in her hand.

Poindexter replied, “No, he’s actually quite smart. He’s just easily distracted and lacks motivation, so I’m here to force him to persevere!”

“...I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted,” Danny remarked.

“Sometimes, brutal honesty gives us the push we need,” Barbara joked. She smiled and looked pointedly at Poindexter and asked, “What grade are you in? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. Did you just transfer?”

“Oh no, I’m just here as a favor. I don’t go to this school,” he clarified.

Danny panicked, but tried to keep his voice even as he asked, “We’re allowed to bring non-student guests here, right?” Maybe he should have read the University’s handbook. It’d keep him from situations like this.

“As long as Sidney’s accompanied by an enrolled student, he is free to be here with you,” Barbara confirmed. “I was just curious. You look so young.”

“He’s an old soul,” Danny quipped.

“Born in a different era,” Poindexter joked. “I’m actually older than Danny, if you can believe it. Never got my growth spurt.”

Barbara’s eyes widened as she said, “Wow, I would have never guessed!”

Another student walked up to Barbara and asked her where they could find a specific book. While they were talking, Danny leaned over to Poindexter and whispered. “Luckily math hasn’t changed much since the fifties.”

Poindexter smiled and rolled his eyes. 

When the other student left to go retrieve their book, Barbara picked up where she left off and asked, “So, how’d you two meet?”

“Is that relevant to our ability to use the library?” Poindexter questioned while Danny blanched. It wasn’t like they could say, ‘oh, misunderstanding and possession of each other’s bodies. We’re all good now though!’

“I was just curious,” Barbara assured him.

Poindexter adjusted his bowtie and said, “We both went to Casper High. He had my old locker.” He smirked and added, “Danny, broke the mirror I left in there.”

“Yeah, and I’ve had bad luck ever since,” Danny quipped, relaxing as Poindexter took the lead.  Movement caught his eye and Danny turned to see the guy from the photo in Barbara’s phone wave his arms around “Um, I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” he said. He’d never seen that guy in any of his classes, but Gotham University was a huge school, and if he wasn’t in the Engineering track, they’d probably never see each other. 

Barbara turned and let out a sigh, but she was smiling as she did it. “Looks like I have to go. You two enjoy the rest of your day! Sorry for taking up so much of your time,” she said. 

“No, it was nice talking with you,” Danny assured her. 

Once she was gone and chatting with the other guy across the library, Danny commented, “I didn’t expect you to be so chatty.”

“Well, I’ve been practicing my socialization skills. I think my research has yielded positive results, don’t you?” Poindexter preened, proudly pointing his nose in the air.

“She didn’t seem to think you were a ghost, so yeah, positive,” Danny replied half-heartedly. 

Poindexter rolled his eyes. “Deny me my rightfully deserved praise,” he bemoaned. “Don’t forget you promised me an egg cream for my time.”

“I even managed to find a place nearby that makes them. We could go now—”

“Finish your homework, Danny,” Poindexter replied sternly.

“It was worth a try,” Danny lamented. 

Tucker sat back on the couch, tossing a handful of pork rinds in his mouth while Sam went on about how holding a sign and yelling at people was going to stop some corporation from doing what corporations do. She was right, Chlorogene should be stopped. But putting your own neck on the line standing for hours in the sun where any Gotham rogue could attack just because people were gathered in one area? It was like putting a target on your back! But it was her neck she was sticking out, so if she didn’t want to heed his advice, so be it. 

There was a knock on the door and that stopped Sam from shouting his ears off. Maybe the soundproofing of the condos wasn’t as good as they thought and someone was here to complain. 

“You’re here early,” Sam greeted. She stepped aside to let in a girl about the same height as Sam, but she wasn’t wearing an extra two inches from a pair of boot heels. 

She wore an oversized black sweatshirt with matching baggy pants and sneakers. She parted her shoulder length hair at her widow's peak. It was a shade of red hair similar to the beret he wore over his hair. A shade that could only be achieved from a bottle. Clearly, she was a woman who had an idea of what she wanted and went for it. Thin, black framed glasses covered her green eyes. They were more rectangular than his own, but similar style. And she brought a megaphone with her. She probably needed it to keep up with Sam’s naturally loud voice.

“Tucker, this is my friend I was telling you about,” Sam said, and she must have been mistaken, because he was quite sure he would have remembered someone like that.

“Well, hello, nice to meet you,” Tucker said, getting up off the couch, abandoning his pork rinds.

“She’s from my Environmental Studies class. She’s the one who organized the protest,” Sam stated. Suddenly, Tucker was rethinking his position on things. Should he really sit inside while they went out on the streets of Gotham alone? 

“My friends call me Red,” she remarked. “Nice to meet you, Tucker.”

“So, college student and eco-protestor?” Tucker asked, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. He walked around, leaning his arm against the back of the couch.

“I’m also a florist. Inherited the store from my grandmother,” she added. 

“Makes sense. Something as pretty as you belongs with flowers,” Tucker said with practiced ease. It may not have worked yet, but statistically, it would work eventually. He just needed to meet the right girl. 

Sam pretended to gag, while her friend giggled. That was a point for Tucker Foley! Successful execution of pick up line. He’d have to make a note of it in his digital journal. 

“Come on, Red,” Sam said, resting her protest sign against her shoulder. “Let’s go change the world, for plants!”

“Now we’re talking,” Red replied, holding her megaphone like a gun. 

Tucker made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out the burger he’d saved. “You ladies go do that. I’ll be doing my part, right here.”

“And what is it that you’ll be doing?” Red asked curiously. 

“I’m saving the grass by eating their number one enemy, cows,” Tucker remarked, popping his leftovers in the microwave. 

“Or— you could hack into Chlorogene and help us out,” Sam not so subtly suggested. 

“Why should I? Aren’t you guys just going to be standing around out front?” Tucker asked. “It’s not like you need my help to get inside.”

“You can hack into Chlorogene?” Red asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Easily,” Tucker replied with a confident smile. “Their servers don’t stand a chance against me! Not that it’d really help your protest rally or whatever.” As he spoke, Red stalked her way over to the kitchen, closing the distance between them.

“No, it’d be really helpful,” Red said, slowly walking her fingers up his chest to his shoulder. “Forget going inside, if you could go through their records and expose them to the public during our protest!”

“At your service!” Tucker immediately agreed. 

“Really? Thanks,” Red said, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and something into the palm of his hand. 

“Eww,” Sam grimaced. “Unless, for whatever reason, he’s somehow your type, please never do that again.” 

“Ha, you’re funny,” Red remarked, sauntering back over to her eco-goth in crime. “Alright, Sam, let’s go make the world a better place.”

“For plants,” the two girls said in tandem. 

The door shut and Tucker unfurled his hand, revealing a scrap of paper with a phone number on it. “Score!” Tucker shouted, punching the air. “Who could blame her? T.F. is too fine,” he said, patting himself on the back. 

He immediately put her number in his phone and sent her a text, “Hey, it’s Tucker! Let me know when you need my technological expertise! I’ll have those files before you and Sam are even at Chlorogene HQ!”

He was about to set his phone down when Red texted him back, “I’ll call you when it’s time to post them!” Followed up by, “Thanks Tucker <3” 

“Yeah, she’s into me,” Tucker remarked.

He grinned, nearly forgetting about his burger, but his nose couldn’t ignore the smell of beef. He brought his food to his room, cracked his knuckles, and got to work. He built his PC himself, so it could handle just about anything. Chlorogene’s servers were no match for him. The secrets they held, all emails with sensitive information, any and all admissions of guilt, they’d be posted for that pretty girl to see. And Sam too, but more importantly, he might just get another kiss from Red after the media storm hits. 

Chapter Text

Damian, dressed in a turtleneck, hoodie, and sweatpants, had yet to be noticed by the press that were gathering alongside protesters. There were some rudimentary barricades set up to keep people away from the steps that led inside the main building. Of all the company buildings in Gotham, it was near the top of strangest architecture. It seemed to jut out of itself at times like it was designed in some childish game where you could stack buildings on top of one another. It was almost as tall as Wayne Industries, with a garish X on the top meant to represent a double helix. 

Despite the name of the building not being up there, “CHLOROGENE” was right attached to the top-front of the first story as well as in large concrete lettering on ground level, making it abhorrently redundant to anyone walking nearby, as both were plainly visible. The CEO seemed to be ignorant of basic advertising. Putting the name higher on the building allowed it to be seen from further away. This was utterly idiotic to have both only visible on street view.  

Curiosity had gotten the better of him. He wanted to know more about the super fruits/vegetables being produced by Chlorogene’s labs, and was left unimpressed by their results. Sure, the plants produced more produce and they were larger than the natural variety, but they were not only practically flavorless, but it promoted a severe lack of biodiversity. In their experiments, all variants of tomatoes mutated into the same product. They tried to spin it as a good thing, but it wasn’t sustainable. 

Joining the protest had been a whim. He didn’t even have a sign. It was difficult to predict whether or not father would approve of his attendance. On one hand, it was for a good cause, but on the other, making a public statement like this reflected on Wayne Industries as well. Chlorogene could potentially try to claim his presence at such an event as a case of libel or slander. 

“Oh! Hey! We met at the farmer’s market! Thanks for turning out for the protest!” Sam said with a smile. 

“Didn’t expect a Wayne to be here,” the redheaded woman beside Sam commented.

Damian clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest as he said, “The Wayne foundation contributes the most funding to Gotham’s natural restoration and anti-pollution clean up efforts. I see no reason my presence here would come as a surprise.” He pulled his hoodie up as one of the reporters started heading their way. He hadn’t realized how recognizable he was since no one else had commented on his status.

“Sorry. I just know the top 1% likes to throw money at problems. You never really see them on the ground. Props for being here,” the redhead said.

Damian rolled his eyes. Father didn’t even have time for him, let alone some protest. As the reporter approached, the twinkle in their eye meant there was some recognition. Damian braced himself for the onslaught of questions. 

“Samantha Manson! You’ve been a strong proponent of environmental protections since coming to Gotham. The CEO of Chlorogene has claimed that everyone gathered here are just paid actors masquerading as protestors. How do you feel about that claim?”

“What a joke. I’m here because Chlorogene needs to be shut down. And so is everyone else,” Samantha stated.

“I believe this is the tenth protest you’ve attended,” the reporter remarked.

“Sixteenth, actually,” Samantha corrected, hands tightening around her sign. 

The reporter said, “Mr. Dawson also claimed that people like you were professional protesters, only trying to cause a scene. Given your history—” 

Samantha scowled. “Ronald J. Dawson is a slimy worm who’s only in operation because he paid lobbyists to look the other way. He’s got a lot of nerve trying to say our outrage is fake news. He’s the one pretending like this will benefit us vegetarians when chloro-mulch is actively killing the environment! It’s not only tainting Gotham’s waterways, but it adds toxins to the soil so ONLY seeds coated in chloro-mulch will grow, KILLING usable farmland!” 

While Samantha was passionately shouting into the reporter's microphone, Damian almost missed her friend making a phone call. The redhead simply said, “Now!” into the phone’s speaker before hanging up.

Now? Domain quickly looked around. Were there explosives in the area? Was there an attack team lying in wait? 

The reporter pressed two fingers to their earpiece. “Are you sure you’ve verified this?” they said in a hushed whisper. Perhaps something was happening in another part of Gotham to distract them.

Suddenly all of the electronic billboards around them stopped functioning. Then, before Damian could call it in, they were back online, no longer promoting stores, products, or services. Instead, they were displaying leaked documents proving Chlorogene’s corruption. In the midst of the chaos that revelation brought, the redheaded girl grabbed Samantha’s wrist and pulled her through the crowd,  hopping the barricades toward Chlorogene’s main building. 

“C’mon, while they’re distracted!” Pamela whisper-shouted as she put a face mask on to disguise herself. 

“Right behind you!” Sam said, doing the same.

Rather than go through the front and immediately have to fight security, they ran around the side of the building. Pamela pulled out a lock pick and made quick work of the lock. “We’re in!”

Sam pulled a can of spray paint out of her bag and started going at the walls. “Ronald Daw-sucks” “Plants over Profits” “Green not Greed” as she finished tagging, she looked over to see Pamela dragging a bag of soil across the floor, leaving a trail behind her.

“Uh, Red? What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“You’re goth. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a summoning circle before,” Pamela quipped with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Sam hesitated. “Of course I have, but what are you trying to call?” She had some weapons on her, but depending on what Pamela was bringing through the portal, it might not even work. What if it was a demon instead of a ghost? 

Pamela grinned. “A dryad!”

“Where did you find a summoning circle for that?” Sam asked, tossing her empty spraycan in the trash. She made sure to wear gloves when she bought it and while she painted, so they wouldn’t be able to trace it back to her. 

“In an old book my grandma left tucked away in her shop. I found it while I was cleaning,” Pamela explained.

At least that sounded like something Batman could potentially defeat since it wasn’t a ghost. Danny probably had his phone on silent if he was still studying. “So you summon a dryad and then what? I mean, Tucker’s already exposing all of the company's dirty secrets.”

“Yeah, that they’ll have their lawyers cover up!” Pamela retorted. “Trust me Sam, peace is nice, but direct action is what makes change happen!”

“With whatever you’re trying to summon? It might not even work.”

“Well, I wanted to hire a mercenary, but my dorm's wifi blocked those websites from their VPN,” Pamela stated. “It might not work, but I have to try!” She finished lining her circle and placed a seed in the center of it before running out of the way without breaking the lines she’d made.

…Nothing happened. 

Pamela sighed, hanging her head. “At least it’ll freak him out when he sees it,” she bemused. “And it gave me something I could use as a footnote in my thesis.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Wanna break anything before we get out of here?”

“You really know how to cheer a girl up,” Pamela remarked. “But we should focus on saving the plants they haven’t poisoned yet. If we make too much noise, someone will come to investigate.”

Just as they had finished gathering up the potted plants, the ground started to shake. Was there a rogue attack? Or an earthquake? 

The concrete cracked down through the building’s very foundation as green vines grew from the summoning circle. They tangled together, forming a vaguely humanoid form: a torso, two arms, and a head. It had glowing red eyes and an all too familiar venus flytrap for a mouth.

“It worked!” Pamela shouted.

“Undergrowth!” Sam exclaimed as her body froze. Not here, not now, how was she supposed to deal with this on her own? “Why would it summon him?”

“Wait, what’d you call them?” Pamela asked. 

“Hmm? Well, if it isn’t my daughter,” Undergrowth remarked. 

“Oh, not again,” Sam said, taking a step back. 

“That’s your dad?” Pamela asked. “Did you inherit any of that?” she said, gesturing his huge form that was only growing as he used his power to make plants sprout around him.

“He’s not my dad!” Sam denied.

“I could sense my dear children were in danger!” He reeled back in horror when he saw one of the mutated plants. “What have the flesh-dwellers done?! I will not stand for this!” 

“Yes! Destroy all that harms plants!” Pamela cheered. 

Undergrowth eyed her and smiled. “It seems you have a sister,” he commented to Sam before addressing Pamela directly. “My daughter, join me and we shall turn this world into a safe haven for all plant-kind!”

Pamela was grinning, giddy, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Yes!” she agreed.

“Don’t!” Sam interjected, pulling out her laser lipstick, blasting away the vines that tried to grab and indoctrinate them both. “Yes, there needs to be change, but this isn’t how we should go about it!”

“How much change have you made since I was last here, my daughter? Even weeds struggle to grow. I can feel the soil. It is weeping.”

A batarang hit the side of his face and exploded. Undergrowth, growled, regenerating the plantmatter that was destroyed.

Robin appeared, breaking the seal on the summoning circle, but Undergrowth’s roots were too far established to force him back into the zone. “He’s weak to cold,” Sam shouted. “If you cut anything off, he’ll just grow it back!”

“Noted,” Robin replied. “Both of you take shelter.” 

Sam grabbed Pamela’s arm and dragged her back. Thankfully, she didn’t resist despite how mesmerized she was by Undergrowth as he grew his ghostly piranha plants and sicked them on Robin.

The old fashioned ice cream shop had a juke box that played nothing but old classics. Poindexter used his power to reach in and play Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong. Names Danny only knew, because Poindexter made sure to tell him every time he put one on. 

While Poindexter looked over the songs, Danny bought their egg creams, which were just milk, seltzer water, and chocolate syrup. It was like chocolate milk, but… bubbly. It was hard to say whether he liked it or not. 

He didn’t hate it.

“Uh, Danny?” Poindexter said, waving his hand in front of Danny’s face.

“Huh? Sorry, I spaced out there for a second. What’d you say?”

“Lady Gotham’s been trying to get your attention,” Poindexter whispered.

“Oh, oops.” Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d forgotten to lower his defenses for her. The second he dropped them she tried to drag him out, but the shop was pretty crowded right now. Danny cut her off and made it look like he’d just tripped as he got out of his seat.  “Ugh, why now? I just got a break!” He barely moved his lips as he slipped into ghost speak, so no one around would notice him talking to the shadows. To their ears, it would sound like wind shaking branches and a looming sense of dread that commonly followed being out late at night alone in a forest. Killed the vibes, but he wasn’t taking chances. 

Lady Gotham flared up, almost as if she was questioning his audacity. Like she wasn’t the one dragging him around doing favors for her. “What? I’m tired! I’m human too! Did you think I’d be excited you have more work for me?” Danny questioned as he threw out his empty cup and made his way outside. He left his core open for her to grab, but she wasn’t showing him the way.

Oh geez, she was insulted. It’s not like what he said was wrong, but she also hadn’t asked him to do anything other than help people, which, in fairness, is his obsession. Sometimes, he just needed a break too! Was that so much to ask?

“What? You don’t need me anymore?” Danny asked. Lady Gotham ignored him, giving him such a cold shoulder he almost shivered. “You can’t just sulk over there. Now I’m worried about whatever you grabbed me for!”

Lady Gotham’s presence waned, almost disappearing entirely like she left in a huff.

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m not even gonna be able to relax thinking about whatever you needed!” Danny pleaded, ducking into an alleyway so he could transform. Once he was a ghost, Lady Gotham seemed to relent, because she did still need him for something. She latched onto his core and proceeded to take him for a joyride.

“Look at what a mess those pathetic flesh-dwellers have made of this place. I’m tempted to simply destroy everything and start fresh. It wouldn’t be difficult, but replanting is still more productive,” Undergrowth said as he further spread his roots through the concrete floor, tearing the foundation of the building up as he reached soil and began to grow in size. “Come to me, my children! Together, we will reshape the world! All you have to do is give yourselves to me.”

“Disgusting,” Robin sneered.

“Watch out for his vines! He can hypnotize people with them!” Sam warned.

“Why resist? You know this is inevitable,” Undergrowth remarked.

“You want me to call the Ghost King? I will!” Sam threatened.

“You have no way to summon him,” Undergrowth said, calling her bluff.

“Oh yeah?” Sam said, pulling out her phone. As the number was dialing, Undergrowth’s vines pierced through the battery, shattering the screen, leaving her phone more dead than Undergrowth himself. “No!” she shouted. 

“You have the Ghost King on speed dial?” Pamela asked.

“That’s not important right now!” Sam said, because she didn’t have time to think of a reason.

“Why would a ghost even have a phone?” Pamela questioned.

“Phones die!” Sam said as she pushed Pamela out of the way from one of Undergrowth's giant flowers. “Look out!” One of his vines got her in the back of the neck. Pamela’s eyes turned green. “No!” Sam tried to use her laser to sever the vines, but the connection remained and Undergrowth just regrew his vines around her, puppeting her like he’d once done to Sam. 

“Join us, sister,” Pamela said, her voice was off. It was clearly still her speaking, but it was wrong in a way that was undeniable. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up whenever Sam heard it. 

She was a little out of practice, but Sam was pretty good at running away from ghosts. She dodged the vines launched at her, leaping over and under lab tables and conveyor belts. Maybe if she could sever the vines from Pamela, she’d return to normal. Sam spun around and tried to cut them with her laser, but they were regrowing faster than she could cut them down. 

One of her vines sliced through the metal vat holding a batch of chloromulch. It coated the vines, quickly spreading back to its host, Pamela. She started coughing and the vines around her quickly mutated, growing so large and thick it looked like Undergrowth was growing out of her back. She’d have been terrifying if not for the fact that she couldn’t control her vines anymore, not without launching into a coughing fit. Her human half couldn’t handle the chemicals.

Sam quickly used the opportunity to slice the vines off of her, freeing her friend and consequently sparing Undergrowth the same fate. The chloromulch didn’t reach him before the connection severed. He did have a look of horror on his face as he watched Pamela become contaminated and reeled back from the exposed vat.

“What disgusting thing have the meat sacks been doing to my children? It felt like something wanted to amplify my growth, but it was sickening.” He grimaced, using his vines to restrain the rest of the vats. “I don’t need something created by meat to increase my power. This goes against nature itself!”

“Hey Cabbage Face, did you really think I’d let this slide?” Danny asked as he emerged from the ground after having frozen Undergrowth’s roots. The plant-ghost began to shrink. “Better bundle up,” Danny quipped. “The weatherman predicted a cold snap!” He froze the base of Undergrowth and all of his weird plant creatures that were chasing Robin and Sam around. 

“My children!” Undergrowth cried.

Danny rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Dude, you’re a terrible father.” 

Before he could shove Undergrowth through a portal to the ghost zone, Undergrowth was being pulled away. 

“Uh, a little late, don’t you think?” Sam chided, spinning her thermos around in her hand like a pistol. 

“My bad, I wasn’t expecting him to be here,” Danny apologized. “How did he even get here anyway?”

“Summoning circle?” Sam said, avoiding eye contact. 

“A summoning circle? Ugh, really? He should have just ignored that! I’m not giving him a pass on this one,” Danny decided, ripping open a portal. It wasn’t like Undergrowth lost control of his free will. That was just the door he walked through to get here. “Walker can deal with him this time. Go ahead and toss him in.”

“With pleasure,” Sam replied, hitting the release switch on the thermos, launching Undergrowth through the portal.

“You two know each other?” Robin asked, dusting some rubble from his shoulder. 

“Uhhhhhh—” both Sam and Danny stammered. This was bad. Bats didn’t need any more connections from Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom. “Know is a strong word—” Danny said lamely while avoiding eye contact.

“That’s not important right now! Pamela’s still got that chloro-mulch gunk on her,” Sam said, redirecting their attention to the girl who was hunched over a table, Undergrowth’s ghost vines decaying at her feet. She looked ready to hurl like she’d rode a rollercoaster ten times in a row right after eating.

“There should be a shower and eyewash station for cases of chemical contamination,” Robin said, scanning the room. When he found one, he went over and scooped the red-headed girl up and brought her over to one such shower, dousing her with water. “Call an ambulance,” he ordered, pointing at Sam. 

“There’s already some outside,” Danny said. “And, uh, if you’re good here, I’m gonna go explain the situation to Walker and make sure it’s all squared away…” When nobody asked him to stay, Danny ripped a portal open and got the heck out of there.

As the redheaded girl was loaded into the back of an ambulance, Damian cornered Samantha so they could speak in private. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know the High King of the Infinite Realms?” 

“I don’t—” Samantha began before folding under Damian’s unamused glare. “...He wasn’t always the king. He used to just be the ghost hero that kept our old town safe. I helped sometimes, but that’s it!”

“That’s it?” Damian said, raising his eyebrow as he didn’t believe that for a second.

“My friend’s parents are ghost hunters, and they can’t tell a friendly ghost from a hostile one. I helped distract them, so he could get away. We kinda sorta became friends after that, but we’re not, like, super close. More like pen pals. I wasn’t even sure if he’d come if I called him, but I hoped he would,” Samantha admitted. It was far more believable as it added up with the information they already knew about the Fentons.

“I see.”

“How do you know him?” Samantha asked.

“Pardon?”

“You didn’t call him the ghost king, you used his technical title,” Samantha said cautiously. “How’d you know who he was?”

“We briefly encountered each other,” Damian stated. He had no plans of answering any other questions, and with his own answered, he dropped a smoke bomb. 

Chapter Text

Sam wore one of her nicer black dresses with bat-sleeves. She grabbed her clutch instead of her usual backpack, but still chose black boots over heels.

“Where are you off to?” Danny asked.

She checked her makeup in the mirror by the door, pulling out her eyeliner to thicken up what she’d already done. Sam replied, “I’m gonna check on Pamela before I head over to the Wayne Charity Ball. They’re hosting it to fund a new hospital for Gotham Zoo.”

Tucker said, “Can’t they just pay for that without a party?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “But the party gets all the rich losers who don’t care about the environment to spend their money on something good. It’s a compromise. And I might get some of them to sign my petition to get Chlorogene shut down.” She pulled her form out of her clutch, rolled and some pens. 

Danny squinted his eyes as he asked, “Why would they do that?”

“Two reasons. They take down a competitor and win some easy publicity points. Chlorogene’s stock tanked, the CEO refuses to resign, and Pamela’s suing them for her medical bills, which she should win because no one knows we snuck in there or that she summoned the ghost. We look like protesters who got caught up in a rogue attack.”

Tucker leaned back into the couch cushions, resting his hands behind his head as he asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Their image is trashed, so nobody has to worry about any backlash from Chlorogene because they’re hands are already tied up with all their other problems. Getting them to turn on each other is the first step towards change,” Sam said with a dark glint in her eyes. “They’ll bring themselves down one by one.” 

“Is it safe to walk around Gotham dressed like you have money?”

“I’m taking a Lyft,” Sam retorted. 

“Okay, have fun!” Tucker said. “Tell your pretty friend I said hi.”

Sam rolled her eyes, letting the door slam shut behind her. 

“Pretty friend? The one who summoned Undergrowth?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow. Wasn’t that a red flag?

“So what? Who hasn’t these days?” Tucker argued.

Danny sighed, dragging his hand down his face. He couldn’t even argue against that point. Someone tried to summon the Ghost King every other month. “Whatever you say,” Danny relented. 

“By the way,” Tucker began, using the tone he always did when he wanted something. “Can you portal me to Lunch Lady’s place? She wanted some help workshopping a few recipes, and I decided to sacrifice my time to help her out.”

At least it was an easy request. Danny rolled his eyes, tearing open a portal as he said, “You’re a real saint, Tuck.”

“I do what I can,” Tucker replied, holding his hand to his heart before stepping through the portal. “I’ll text you when I need you to portal me back!”

“Yeah, yeah, I expect five stars on your Uber review!” Danny called as Tucker disappeared into the ghost zone. Danny sank further into the couch, letting his eyes fall shut. Without meaning to, he’d drifted off to sleep.

Duke let out the breath he was holding as he closed the office door behind him. Dr. Penelope Spectra and her assistant were both currently being questioned about the Bane incident. While they were out, it was the perfect time to snoop. Barbara hadn’t given him much direction on what he was looking for, so he started opening drawers, careful to put everything he looked back where he found it—

At least, that had been the plan. To the average eye, it would look like a regular perfume bottle. Luckily, he didn’t have average eyes. It glowed, emitting a strong light that was eerily similar to Finn’s. Whatever this stuff was, he couldn’t leave it here. 

Nothing else in the room was suspicious. Sure, having pictures of yourself framed on your desk was a little weird, but it wasn’t worth taking note of. Her files were the same. Either she typed her physical copies word for word or she made her assistant do it. 

The shadows in front of him darkened. Lady Gotham had been acting weird since they got to Arkham, more fidgety than normal, but this was different. She was practically clawing at him, shadows flowing like river rapids. Where? The door! Was she trying to get him to leave?

A glimpse into the future showed Dr. Spectra and her assistant entering the room. He didn’t have much time! Duke followed Lady Gotham, who was getting really snippy for someone who couldn’t talk. 

“You’ve been frantic the whole time! How was I supposed to know this was actually important?” Duke argued, earning another middle finger. 

Danny woke up starving . 

No text from Tucker yet. He must have been having a great time. He and the Lunch Lady had the same pallet. 

The place was empty, the sun was setting, and Danny really didn’t have the energy to cook. He wasn’t going to test his luck by going into the streets of Gotham at night as Daniel Fenton, so he transformed, white rings washing over him. He went intangible and phased out of the building. There were plenty of restaurants and stands still open. Gothamites didn’t stop what they were doing just because it got dark. 

He contemplated going to a diner or a bodega, but settled on a hotdog stand. Rather than transform behind some alley, Danny stuck his arm through the register to pay for his food and helped himself. His dog and bun went intangible as he grabbed hold of them, but when he went looking to fix it up, he found an empty red bottle. “Out of ketchup? Seriously?” Danny sighed. 

Danny settled for mustard and took a disappointing bite of his food. Then someone screamed.

He quickly swallowed and started looking around. No ghost sense, but in Gotham, that didn’t mean there wasn’t trouble. Then he spotted the source of the commotion. A pair of tighty-whiteys over a teal jumpsuit with a black circle on the chest and a white "C" in its center with a red lightning bolt going through and appearing yellow as it came out the other side of the logo. He had a pickle-themed ski mask with rounded black sunglasses and two sauce-guns attached to a twin tank he wore on his back that almost resembled a jetpack. 

“Oh my gosh! It’s him,” Danny whispered as he stared at the man, the myth, the legend, the Condiment King.

The rogue grinned, pointing his guns at the civilians closest to him. Of course, they weren’t in danger so much as they were going to be terribly inconvenienced. “Who wants some flavor?” the Condiment King shouted as he started spraying his sauces wildly. Danny managed to snag some of the ketchup he was blasting for his hot dog. “Toss your wallets here. Hey! You heard me! A shot of dijon in your eye and you'll be sorry!”

Honestly, that did sound more threatening than a bullet, and not just because Danny was already dead. While people were still reaching for their wallets, one of the bats arrived. 

“I see you mustard up the courage to get back on the streets, but your skills are a little rusty. Looks like you have some ketch-ing up to do,” Nightwing joked as he dodged the man’s dual pistols locked and loaded with condiments. Danny crossed his legs in the air, watching the scene unfold as he finished his dinner. It was rare to get the chance to relax in a fight. Luckily, Nightwing clearly had it handled. 

“You know how I relish the challenge!” the Condiment King shot back, twisting his pistol to swap condiments. It shot out in bursts, chunky, pickled relish blasts firing. 

Nightwing was doing a great job dancing around them until an old man on a walker was in the Condiment King’s sightlines and Nightwing jumped in front of him to shield the civilian, taking a direct hit. “Aw man,” Nightwing bemoaned as he took out his escrima sticks. “I was trying to do it the nice way, but you’re starting to pesto me off.”

The rest of the bystanders actually left. Danny was the only one watching the fight play out, but he was also the only one who didn’t have to worry about getting ketchup or mustard in his eyes. Nightwing’s day job must have been a gymnast or something with how he dodged the shots of sauce and closed in on the Condiment King, nailing him with his escrima sticks. They weren’t regular escrima sticks either, because Nightwing’s let out an all too familiar crackle of electricity as he stunned the Condiment King, who fell to the ground. 

After Nightwing cuffed him, Danny decided to reveal himself. “Nice moves,” he remarked.

The vigilante whipped around, weapons in hand. Danny floated just out of reach. Nightwing blinked, “Are you who I think you are?” he asked.

“Probably,” Danny answered. “If you meant the Ghost King. You can just call me Phantom, though.” 

“Right…” Nightwing said, lowering his weapons. 

“Here, I can help with that,” Danny said, touching Nightwing’s shoulder. He turned the vigilante intangible, letting the sauce fall off him to the floor. Once he was clean, Danny let go.

“Oh my god, you have no idea how much time you saved me,” Nightwing proclaimed.

Danny grinned and replied, “Well, I relish the opportunity to assist a fellow punster.” 

“A man of culture!” Nightwing remarked. “Thanks! It normally takes forever to get that stuff out of the suit. What did you do?”

“I made you intangible for a second,” Danny explained. “Ghost perk.”

Maybe Nightwing could sense that Danny was about to leave, because before he could take off, Nightwing said, “Hey, I don’t think any of us have said it, but, thanks for helping Red Hood. I saw what the pit did to him, and how hard it was on him. He’s different now, better. So much better.”

“Good, I don’t really know a lot about the, uh, pits. But I've got someone working on purifying them,” Danny assured him. No more people getting dunked in ecto-gone-bad.

“What does that mean?” Nightwing asked.

Did Red Hood not fill them in? Oh jeez, what bucket of worms did Danny just open. He explained, “So what you call the pits are actually just pools of rotten ectoplasm, and if they’re purified, then they can’t do whatever they did to Red Hood, or anyone again, because it will go back to being regular ectoplasm, which is completely harmless to the living, by the way. I know some people that eat it, and they’re totally fine.”

“Right…” Nightwing said cautiously. “You know the pits are guarded.”

“I don’t foresee that as an issue for me, since the ones guarding it aren’t really equipped to fight me, and apparently they had some sort of treaty, deal, thing with the last ghost king, so I doubt they’ll expect me to show up and clean up. Whenever that happens. It’s still under development.”

“Maybe the first time you purify one, but if you start, he’s guarding every pit. I don’t think he’ll take that lying down,” Nightwing warned, which was very considerate of him, even if it was completely unnecessary. 

“I have the power to make portals and a map that shows me where all the pools are, so I think I can do it within a day, maybe an hour depending on what I need to do to purify it.” His parents should still be working on it if they haven’t distracted themselves with another weapon schematic.

Nightwing sputtered, “An hour?!” 

“Yeah, give or take,” Danny guesstimated. Maybe less depending on what he needed to do. Blast it, or set something up, or drop a tablet in like an alka-seltzer. 

“How did you purify Red Hood? Why don’t you use the same method?” Nightwing asked, which was fair, it just didn’t work like that.

“Okay, so I didn’t purify Red Hood’s ectoplasm, I just took the bad stuff out of him,” Danny explained. “He doesn’t have a lot of ectoplasm to start with, so it was pretty easy to use my ectoplasm to repel the rotten stuff, and when it came out I souped it.” Danny pulled out his thermos to illustrate. “So, the rotten stuff still exists. Purifying it would alter the actual ectoplasm to return it to normal with no byproduct. But like I said, I’ve got someone working on it, now that I know it’s an issue.”

Nightwing held his hand to his head. “You didn’t know it was an issue?” he asked. 

“No, they didn’t tell me about any of this stuff until Red Hood was about to explode,” Danny stated. “You’d be surprised by the stuff they leave out.”

“Run that by me again?” Nightwing asked.

Run what by him again? Oh. Right, the core exploding thing… Did he even fully explain it to Hood? “...Uh, how should I say this… So ghosts have cores, right? And Red Hood’s core cracked when Lady Gotham shoved it back into his body. I think he was kinda overshadowing it more than occupying it since his body was still dead, but that’s just me speculating. The pool of rotten ectoplasm he fell into fixed his body, but had the opposite effect on his core. It corrupted it, filling the cracks with that rancid stuff, and every flare up of uh, pit-madness, or whatever, was really bad for his core. Every time they happened, they risked exploding and sending rotten ectoplasm throughout his entire body. And that would essentially kill him again and send him on a mad rampage.”

“He would have died?!” Nightwing exclaimed.

“Well, without a core, his ghost half, or quarter, would be dead, and without that his mortal body would follow suit shortly thereafter…” Danny theorized. He’d never seen it happen, but it made sense. “But that’s not a problem anymore! He’s stabilized. I can’t see his core myself, so I don’t know the state of it now. He seems more human than ghost, from what I can tell. He smells faintly of ectoplasm, but you really have to look for it to even notice. Regular ghosts are so full of ectoplasm that I can sense them anywhere. I can’t do that with Hood.”

Nightwing asked, “Is there a way to see how his core is doing now?”

“Yeah, actually, Frostbite has some tech that can view a ghost’s core, but I doubt Red Hood would want to come to the Infinite Realms to get that all checked out. And since Clockwork hasn’t told me to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Nightwing opened his mouth then closed it, clawing his fingers through his hair. He finally said, “A million questions to ask, but I’m gonna start with, who’s Clockwork to you if you’re the king? Why are you doing what he tells you to do?”

“Clockwork is one of the Ancients. He’s the guy who runs the timeline. He keeps this world on the best path. And I know best is subjective, but he controls the butterfly effect. There are events that change the world, for better or for worse. If it’s worse, he steps in, or usually he has me step in, and fix it.”

“Who gets to decide what’s ‘for worse?’ Clockwork’s unregulated?” Nightwing asked.

“It’s like a universally agreed upon ‘worse.’ Like it’s not just no bad things happen, because bad things can make the world better. I died, bad for me, but if I hadn’t become a ghost, then Pariah Dark would still be king and no one would have been there to stop him,” Danny explained. It was a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes bad things needed to happen for change.

“Right,” Nightwing tentatively agreed.

“But some tragedies do cause bad timelines. There was one time a ghost’s living family died in an accident, and that ghost lost their moral compass and destroyed the entire world. So Clockwork helped me save his family and that timeline never happened.” Danny said, leaving out the fact that the ghost was himself, well, himself and Vlad’s worse half fused together. Red Hood would probably tell Nightwing about Danny fighting himself, but he didn’t want to link the two together. “So, worse like that kind of worse.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Nightwing remarked.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s the ghost zone. If you’re not used to this sort of thing, it’s not super believable.” 

“How can you be sure Clockwork isn’t lying to you?” Nightwing asked.

“I wore a time medallion and saw the bad timeline for myself, and also talked to the ghost. They tried to make sure their family died because they liked having no morals anymore. So I had to fight them and save their family to stop that version of them from ever existing in the first place.” Clockwork might be cryptic, but he was trustworthy. 

After a beat of silence, Nightwing joked, “I don’t envy your job.” 

“Back then it wasn’t even this job since I wasn’t even old enough to have the crown yet,” Danny shot back. “Clockwork just made it my problem.” 

“If you weren’t the king, why’d it have to be you?” Nightwing questioned. 

He’d expected a question on his age, but then again, most of the bats were young. Robin was really young, so maybe it didn’t seem like an issue. “Probably my obsession. I’m a spirit of protection,” Danny said, because it wasn’t a total lie, but the fact that he was fighting a version of himself definitely had more to do with it than that. “It’s in my being to want to protect everyone. And most other ghosts are inherently selfish. I doubt they’d help unless it directly affected them.” Poindexter was the only other ghost he could think of that was obsessed with protection, though his was more “anti-bully” specifically. And he wasn’t very good at fighting. 

Nightwing placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Well, if you ever need help, I owe you one.”

“Thanks,” Danny said. “You guys aren’t as scary as I thought you’d be.”

That got a laugh out of the vigilante. “I guess Batman has that reputation everywhere, huh?”

“Well, I still spend more time with the living than most ghosts do. The zone is more focused on themselves to know about things like that,” Danny admitted. It wasn’t like they were really a threat to ghosts, at least not yet. It wasn’t even fun to fight them. Without ecto-weapons, it was totally one-sided. “When I first got to Gotham, I tried to avoid you guys at all cost. Which is still probably a better idea than talking to you, no offense. But if you weren’t definitely also trying to figure out how to defeat me, it’d be cool to hang out more.”

“I would argue that’s more of a Red Robin, Batman thing, than my thing, but it doesn’t hurt to know how to protect yourself,” Nightwing remarked. 

“Fair. I get that; it’s just that what hurts me, can also hurt them. Most people don’t treat ghosts well. If we're not living, we’re not really people, after all. You know how it is,” Danny stated, tearing open a portal. “It was nice meeting you! Sorry for making it awkward, and even though I don’t want you to know how, if you did ever need to, I hope you do take me down. Clockwork would probably stop it before you needed to step in, but if he didn’t, then I hope you’d stop me,” Danny rambled, throwing himself through the portal and hastily closing it behind him. He covered his face with his hands. “Ugh, I talked too much and made it weird,” he grumbled, floating through the zone. “He seemed cool, too.”

Dick stood in the empty, mustard-covered street and muttered, “If we're not living, we’re not really people?”

Danny made his way over to his castle. One that he remodeled after taking it over from Pariah Dark. His Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep was now under more than just lock and key. Skulker helped him design the traps and lasers that were set up all around it as it rested at the end of a maze he built in the old dungeon. Though he did miss using it as a coffee table or footrest, Jazz was right about it being a hazard, so into the dungeon it went. 

The rest of the castle was a lot more modern and streamlined. Every staircase was an escalator. Sure, he could fly, but it was nice for Sam, Tucker, and occasionally Jazz to use when they visited. Danny ended up wandering out towards the castle stables where the Fright Knight was tending to his horse, Night-mare. 

The tall ghost, with his muscular build, black armor, and flaming purple hair that spilled from the top of his helmet, spotted Danny immediately. He knelt to the floor. “My Lord and Liege, have you use of my sword? I shall unleash its wrath in your honor,” the Fright Knight offered. 

“Not yet,” Danny replied. “Sorry to disappoint.” If he hadn’t already given Undergrowth to Walker, the Fright Knight would have been his next pick.  

“I await the day,” the Fright Knight said, kneeling with his fist held to his chest. 

“I’m sure someone will break my rules and they’ll be all yours. You’ll get dibs!” Danny promised. “Or if I find another GIW stronghold, I’ll let you handle it.” He felt guilty not letting the Fright Knight fulfill his obsession to the fullest. He wanted to rule under the king because the Ghost King was powerful. The Fright Knight might serve as a knight, but that used to mean getting to rein terror. In an era of peace that meant doing a whole lot of nothing. 

“I await your call,” the Fright Knight declared. 

Technus wearily eyed the child crawling up the walls of the batcave. “Do humans normally do that?” he asked. Before the Red Robin could answer, two white rings encompassed the child, and it transformed back into that blob. “Hey! What gives? I thought there were only three halfas! Now this guy’s a halfa?” Was he going to be abnormally strong too? 

“Halfa?” The bruteish Red Hood asked.

Technus rolled his eyes, replying, “Duh, that’s what he is. Half human, half ghost.”

The Red Hood asked, “Wouldn’t that make me a halfa?” 

“You’re not half ghost,” Technus retorted. “You can’t even fly!” Guy dies once and thinks he’s a halfa. Jeez louise. These people were so hard to teach. Being a mentor was tougher than it looked! At least the Red Robin was skilled with technology even if he was lacking in basic ghostly knowledge.

“Why am I not shooting this guy again?” the Red Hood foolishly asked his colleagues. He wasn’t even holding an ecto-weapon. What good would bullets do against him?

Technus had real things to worry about. A halfa! This wasn’t good. The little guy had this haunt first. It didn’t matter when he arrived before because he was obviously stronger and thus got to exert his will over the domain. Now, that thing was here, and it was a bundle of potential that Technus wanted nothing to do with. Fighting it now would be like squashing an ant, completely unsatisfying. But letting it grow would mean someone who could stand against him. The fight might be fun, but logistically, it didn’t bode well. 

As annoying as Daniel was, it’d be better if the halfa turned out like him rather than Vlad Plasmus or even Danielle. Plasmus was completely untrustworthy. Why anyone teamed up with him was beyond Technus’s range of comprehension, and Danielle was like Danny if he was somehow more violent, if slightly less powerful. Age, the ring of rage, and the crown of fire gave Daniel the advantage over her, that and his wail.  

The Red Robin was distracted by some telecommunication on the bat-computer with his other potential mentee. The red-headed woman said, “So Danny’s being tutored by a ghost.” 

Danny? His Danny? Who was tutoring him?

She went on to say, “Sydney Poindexter died back in the 1950s, but he was at the library helping Danny with his homework.”

“Do we think he’s a potential threat?” the Signal asked.

Technus burst out laughing. “Poindexter? A threat? Oh, that’s a good one.” That ghost could barely fire a blast of ectoplasm! Even these noobs could win a fight against him. The great and powerful Technus could defeat that dork with his eyes closed!

“...Right… Anyway, we’ve established a direct link between Daniel Fenton and ghosts,” the Red Robin stated. “And according to Robin, Samantha is familiar with ghosts as well. She and the Ghost King were on speaking terms.”

“That was in question for you people?” Technus asked. “He’s the son of ghost hunters and she’s his little friend. Of course they know ghosts! Jeez how is this a revelation for you people.”

The group paused. It took them time to think. Not everyone had a great and brilliant mind like Technus!

The Red Robin asked, “Why would Poindexter be helping him? Aren’t ghosts and ghost hunters enemies?”

“Eh, Poindexter just hates bullies. Danny’s a real pain-in-the-tush, but he’s not a bully. They get along fine,” Technus replied. 

“Technus, what do you know about Danny?” Red Hood asked. These people had so many questions. At least be specific.

“What do I look like, his mother?” Technus quipped.

The Red Robin asked, “Samantha knows the Ghost King. Does Danny?”

“Yeah, he knows him. Who do you think gave the Ghost King all his tech? He didn’t make that thermos himself.” Technus replied easily. It wasn’t even a lie. Daniel should be grateful that he helped him with his secret identity nonsense. Now they’d be hard pressed to connect those two dots! Not that they were the best at connecting any dots when ghosts were involved. 

The Red Robin remarked, “So ghosts like Danny?”

“Well…” the Signal interrupted. “I don’t know if it’s because he’s been around ghosts or if it was the weapons, but Lady Gotham—” he suddenly stopped. The city spirit wasn’t nearly as powerful as a ghost, but she was certainly trying to smack that boy around. 

“What about Lady Gotham?” the red-headed woman asked. 

“Well now she’s getting mad like she doesn’t want me to tell you!” the Signal stated.

“Tell us,” the Red Robin insisted. 

“She stayed away from Jay— Red Hood, while they were on their date. I mean, she watched him from a distance, but she wasn’t herself until they split up.”

“She what?” Red Hood questioned. 

“Hey, she’s scary when she’s mad guys,” the Signal said. “I think she’s embarrassed. Maybe she was just trying to give you space?”

Unlikely. Lady Gotham must not want Daniel to know who Red Hood is beneath his shiny helmet. If she clung to him the way she always did, then it would have been obvious. But, since saying that would lead them to thinking Daniel could see her ladyship, Technus replied, “Oh yeah, it’s normal to back off if there’s a chance for intimacy. We have manners, you know.”

“That’s the most shocking thing I’ve heard so far,” the Red Robin remarked. Ghost manners and living manners might have different values, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. 

A ball of ectoplasm dropped onto Technus’s head. He winced, rubbing the spot. That stung! “Hey!” he exclaimed, looking up to see that halfa again. “Ugh this kid’s starting to bother me,” Technus announced. “The Red Robin, if you’re lucky we’ll see each other again.”

“You’re leaving me with—” the Red Robin complained as the blob dropped onto his head.

Technus grinned and replied, “You’re Welcome!” laughing as he flew into the batcomputer and swam through the electric current. The Oracle, as she was named in her file, was his next stop.

Barbara reeled back as the ghost from the batcave was suddenly in front of her. She’d been trying to fix her camera footage from Dick’s fight with the Condiment King since she’d lost sight of him after he took the rogue down. For whatever reason, the cameras became static-y. 

Before she could even ask what was going on, Technus looked at her screens and said, “Allow me.” outstretching his hand and connecting to her monitors. A green dot appeared on the bottom of the screens. “Now you’ll be able to monitor any ghostly activity!”

And not just that. Barbara went back through the footage of Dick’s fight with Mitchell Mayo, and where it once was static, he could now see him chatting with the Ghost King. There was no audio to save, but getting her screens clear was big. She said,  “That’s… incredible.”

“Ha! This is nothing for the Almighty Master of Megabytes, Technus! Since the batcave was becoming too crowded, I have decided to lend my mind to you, Ms. Oracle! Consider yourself honored!”

He might be a narcissist, but he was straightforward, unlike everyone in Gotham. A tech ghost might just be what she needed. “What else can you do?” she asked.

Technus cracked his knuckles. “Ooo, I like your enthusiasm!” he said with a grin. “I am the Grandmaster of Gadgets, the most technologically knowledgeable ghost in the Ghost Zone!”

“Can you make it so we don’t lose our line of communication when a ghost is around?”

“Ah, that’s easy-peasy stuff,” Technus said, diving into her system and making his way to the satellites. A few alterations and he was back, floating beside Barbara. “Give me a hard one! Something to challenge my great mind!”

“Hacking into a ghost hunter’s server?” Barbara asked.

“Oh, the Fentons? They’ve updated it a few times. Foley’s a real menace with that, but it’s no match for me!” Technus bragged, cracking his knuckles.

“Foley? As in Tucker Foley, sophomore at Gotham University and former Casper High student?” 

“Ehh… I don’t know about the University, but yeah, he went to Casper High. Always glued to Daniel.”

“How well do you know Daniel Fenton?” Barbara asked. 

“I’d say I’m one of the ghosts who knows him best! Our battles were ones for the history books! Ha!” Technus recounted. 

“You beat him?” she asked. 

“Though my intellect surpasses his, he managed to get the better of me,” Technus admitted. “But it was no easy feat!”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. You are, so great and powerful after all,” Barbara commented, watching Technus preen at the stroke of his ego. “So, how’d he do that?”

“The Fenton Thermos can trap any ghost inside. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out until someone lets you out! Then he’d toss us back through the portal. Ugh, and he took his time with it. I swear he’d forget about us just because he had homework .”

“Us?” Barbara pressed.

“The thermos holds more than one ghost, but let me tell you it’s cramped in that thing even if you’re by yourself! Smelly too. Ugh, it is awful . The conditions are almost worse than Walker’s prison! Okay, maybe not that bad, but still, you understand what I’m saying.”

“Does it affect people?”

“Huh? You mean the living? No. The thermos only works if ‘people’ are made entirely of ectoplasm,” Technus stated. “It sucks up our forms because we don’t have fleshy meat and bones like you.”

“Any ghost can be sucked into one?” Barbara asked as she scoured the Fenton’s etsy shop, but didn’t see the thermos listed specifically. There was some other company claiming to sell ghost hunting equipment called VladCo, and there was a very similar looking thermos with a white, cup cap, a gray body and red accents. Change the colors a little, and it had a very similar design and product description for what the Fenton thermos did. 

A little digging showed the owner, Vlad Masters, went to college with the Fentons at the University of Wisconsin before dropping out after a lab accident. Eventually, he founded VladCo and bought himself some honorary degrees. It was hard to say if he stole the design or if he helped create it, thus organically making his own version. “Any ghost? Even the Ghost King?” Barbara questioned.

“Hmm, I know he’s been trapped in one before, but not since becoming King… The Fentons certainly haven’t stopped trying so, I mean, he might have, but I haven’t heard of it,” Technus mused. “Stronger ghosts can fight the pull, but if they’re weakened from a battle, they wouldn’t have the strength left to resist,” he theorized. “That’s how Danny boy would catch me.”

Steph commented over the comms, “So ghosts are like pokemon. You weaken them before you try to catch them.” 

“Ah, I’ve explored those games! Yes, it’s like that,” Technus agreed. 

Barbara pulled up Tim’s files on ghosts and muted her mic so the others wouldn’t eavesdrop. “What else can you teach me, oh Master of Megabytes?”

Technus was practically glowing as he flew beside her. “I am so glad you asked—”

Chapter Text

Jason fixed his hair in the mirror. His shirt was freshly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Alfred would be proud. Less so of his leather jacket, as it was starting to look worn out, but being thrown at brick walls and shoved into concrete would do that. It had been through a lot, and considering it was still here, in one piece, he’d go so far as to say it was lucky. 

Finn sat on the bathroom counter, swinging his legs. He reached inside his chest and pulled out a perfume bottle. It was too old fashioned to be Steph or Cass’s. Most perfume looked like whiskey, but this bottle was half-filled with a green liquid. Duke mentioned something like that in his report.

“Did you take that out of the cave?” Jason asked.

Finn nodded his head. His gleeful grin grew as he insistently offered Jason the bottle. He probably saw Alfred spray Dad with some cologne he had to go to a gala.

Jason tried to explain, “No, girls wear perfume, and men wear cologne, so put that—” Finn squeezed the bulb on the bottle, spraying out a cloud of scented mist that was lavender, vanilla, and something he couldn’t quite place. Jason squeezed his eyes shut, coughing as it entered his mouth. It was bitter and gross, and breathing that stuff in made his lungs warm. Weirdly, the heat wasn’t uncomfortable at all, but after years of pit rage, anything less was almost cozy. 

He took the bottle away from Finn, placing it on top of the bathroom cabinet. “No spraying perfume,” he lightly scolded. Finn pouted, looking down as his eyes started to tear up. “Hey, no, no, I know you were trying to help, but you have to listen to me too, alright? I’m not mad at you.”

Finn sniffled and nodded his head. 

Jason sighed and scooped him up in his arms. Finn hugged him back, his face burrowing into the side of Jason’s neck, tickling him as Finn’s hair brushed against his skin. Jason rubbed Finn’s back to soothe him until the sniffling stopped. 

“What song is that?” Dick asked, leaning against the doorway with some books in his hand. “It sounds familiar.”

Jason hadn’t even realised he’d been humming. “What are you doing here?” he asked, deflecting the question. He didn’t even know the answer. It was some song Bruce used to sing to him. He always fell asleep before he got to the end. 

 “Being Finn’s favorite uncle,” Dick replied. Finn stuck his thumb in his mouth as he turned his head to look over at Dick.

“Finn, no thumb,” Jason said. He’d read it was bad for children’s teeth as they developed if they sucked their thumbs. Finn reluctantly took it out of his mouth, then reached his arms out to Dick. 

Jason passed him over and took the books from his brother. There were classics like Cat in the Hat, Blueberries for Sal, and If You Give a Moose a Muffin. But there were some newer material that felt more like a personal dig than something fun to read with his kid. 

“Grumpy Monkey?” Jason deadpanned. 

Dick immediately got defensive and said, “It teaches kids that it’s okay to feel upset sometimes! I’m sure clones need to learn that too.”

“Uh huh,” Jason replied. They left the bathroom to return to his main room, that really was Finn’s now that he’d removed all the hidden weapons he’d smuggled into Bruce’s house. He built a little bookshelf for Finn’s personal collection, and added Dicks gift to the allotment. “So, what are these an excuse for? I don’t believe you drove all the way here just to give us a couple books.” 

After setting Finn down and pretending to be offended, Dick finally got to the point, “...Jay, have you talked to that ghost guy about your whole, core situation?”

“You mean Phantom? No, not really.” He was perfectly fine. Technically not a meta, apparently, but not fully human either, but overall, fine.

“I ran into him and he mentioned you would have died if he didn’t fix it.”

“Again?” Jason joked. Dick grimaced, which was honestly rude because that was a good one. This family was a tough crowd. “I know he was kinda panicking back then.” Jason was pretty sure he’d remember if he was straight up told the pit would kill him, but Phantom did mention time being of the essence. Guess he wasn’t exaggerating. 

For once, Dick didn’t bother beating around the bush and asked, “Have you considered going to the ghost zone to let someone check on it?”

Jason didn’t hesitate to answer, “Nope.” 

“Jay, Little Wing—” 

Dick was looking at him with those stupid pleading eyes. “Ugh, maybe,” Jason said and Dick grinned, reaching over to hug him. Jason rolled his eyes and stressed, “Maybe.” From the few interactions Jason and Phantom had, the guy would take him, but going to the realm of the dead wasn’t high on his list of things to do. Jason had priorities after all. 

Like his date.

The air was hot and humid as the misters gently rained down. The glass ceiling of the green house attached to the flower shop held much more than roses. The fragrant smell of flowers filled the air. Sam set her venus flytrap down on the countertop, tipping a watering can to dampen the soil. Above her, a large, twisted mass of vines sprouted up from the ground. 

Isley watched her friend casually go about her business, tending to the plants before setting her watering can down. Isley stated, “With these powers, I’ll finally be able to make a better world for plants.”

“Did you forget the part about training first,” Sam replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “We don’t even know what all your abilities are yet.”

Isley huffed, rolling her eyes as she telepathically commanded her vines to lower her back to the ground. “I’ve got a good idea of what they are,” she argued. Even the tiniest weed could grow into a gigantic beast if she imbued it with her power. “Enough to know how to destroy the corporations that are killing the environment.”

Sam suggested, “Why don’t we start by improving the community gardens around Gotham?” She walked over to nudge Isley’s elbow. “We can work our way up, Red.”

“Before I had powers you were ready to be my partner in crime, and now you’re going soft on me?”

“Pam, I don’t want to see you get hurt again,” Sam admitted. 

Ugh.

Isley sighed. “Fine,” she agreed. “I’ve had a few ideas I wanted to set in motion anyway.” She picked up a pot of roses. “We’ll show those dried up lots what mother nature's beauty really looks like.”

Sam grinned. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed.

Superman picked up speed as he flew through the metropolis skyline. Green Lantern and Wonder Woman were behind him along with Batman in his jet. Four ghosts were flying through the metropolis skyline. Three vultures with green feathers, blue beaks and feet, red eyes, and wearing a red fez with a skull on it. Despite having beaks, they also have humanoid teeth, and one of them sported a pair of sunglasses. Two were carrying large boxes while the third fended off the fourth ghost. 

Unlike the birds, the last one was a large, hulking ghost dressed in pink pajamas, with short blonde hair, red eyes, and icy, greenish blue skin. 

The vulture with sunglasses, exasperatedly yelled, “Get away from us, Klemper! Nobody likes you!” His voice was like a disgruntled old man. 

The humanoid ghost, Klemper, started to cry. “Why won’t anyone be my friend?” 

One of the vultures shouted, “How many times do we have to tell this bozo? Buzz off!” 

As he cried, Klemper hurled fistfulls of ice at the vulture ghosts. His power was freezing the city streets below them and stray ice balls dented the buildings around them. 

Superman and Wonder Woman flew down to block the ice before it could do anymore damage while Green Lantern created a large green construct, shaped like a bird cage around the ghosts. They bumped into the construct, grunting as they fell back. “Hey, what gives?” one of the vultures asked. 

Superman took the chance to look inside the crates with his x-ray vision. It’s something technological with the LexCorp logo stamped on the side. Another theft was happening again, yet the police weren’t called. From what he knew as a member of the League and a reporter, LexCorp still hadn’t reported anything missing. If this didn’t get reported too, that would all but confirm Luther didn’t want this getting out.

Speaking of getting out, the ghosts disappeared, reappearing moments later outside of Green Lantern’s construct.

Batman jumped from his jet. “Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern will each fight one of the vultures. Do not let them escape with the boxes. We need to know what’s being taken,” he ordered.

“And what about big, mean, and cranky?” Green Lantern asked as Klemper landed on the street, freezing everything around him.

“I’ll take care of that,” Batman said definitively. 

Wonder Woman grinned, flying off as she said, “I’ve got the one with glasses!” 

Bruce landed, ecto-bataring in hand as he eyed the ghost standing before him. He was almost as large as Grundy. Maybe a bit bigger if he wasn’t hunched over. He reared his arm back to throw when the ghost crumpled down on the ground. 

Klemper whimpered, tearing up as he said, “I just want someone to be my friend.”

Batman’s eyes widened. He lowered his batarang and cautiously approached the ghost. “Why are you attacking the city?” he asked, dropping the harsh tone he reserved for criminals and any Justice Leaguers who got on his nerves. 

“I– Because they ran away from me. I just want them to stay. No one ever stays with me,” the ghost sniffled, curling in on himself. “Why won’t anyone be my friend?”

Batman stared at the ghost identified as Klemper. He crouched down next to him. “Do you always attack your friends with ice?” he asked, though he tried to make it somewhat jovial. 

“I heard ghosts fight for fun. If they have fun fighting me, maybe they’ll want to be my friend!” Klemper explained. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but they just fly away from me! No one ever plays with me, or talks to me,” Klemper started crying again.

“Here, people don’t fight to make friends,” Batman remarked. “They talk to each other.” Or so he was told. Many times. Mostly by Alfred. And his children. “Have you tried that?” he asked gently, coaxing the ghost to sit up and look him in the eyes. The tears were drying up.

“I– I think I can do that. Do you think I could make friends that way?” Klemper asked more clearly now that he wasn’t crying. “Will you be my friend?” He sounded so desperate. His hulking form hunched over.

“Maybe, but my friends don’t hurt other people or destroy buildings,” Batman lied. “Do you think you could stop doing that?”

“Sure! I can! I can!” Klemper exclaimed. He picked himself up, flying in the air before touching down again. He stared at Bruce, eyes pleading with him. “Then will you be my friend?”

“Then I’ll be your friend,” Batman agreed.

“Wow! Really? You mean it? My first ever friend!” Klemper grinned, jumping up and down before pulling Batman into a hug.

He awkwardly wrapped his arms around Klemper, even as the ghost squeezed with more strength than he needed to. Though he’d been widely critiqued on his hugs, Klemper seemed satisfied. Even with his hulking form, who could see him as anything other than a child? A lonely kid cursed with too much power.

Diana tackled the green bird, wrapping her arms around his wings as she directed him to the ground. In his shock, the bird dropped the crate it was holding, which crashed into the street below, breaking the wood and electronics inside. Someone could probably fix it. There were two others regardless. Before she could bring her vulture to the ground, it disappeared from her arms, reappearing a few feet ahead of her. She grabbed her lasso, throwing it around the bird’s neck. Now, even as it tried to escape, it was stuck. 

“What are you doing here?” Diana questioned as she pulled the ghost towards her, reeling in her lasso.

“Getting the heck away from you!” the bird replied. 

She asked, “Why were you stealing those boxes?” 

“The boss wanted ‘em. We do what he says!” the vulture replied.

“Who’s your boss and what did he want you to steal?” Diana interrogated. 

“Vlad Plasmus, and I dunno. Do I look like some technology ghost? He showed us a picture and said go grab it so we grabbed it. What’d’ya want from me?” the ghost complained. 

Diana tightened her lasso. “What’s Vlad Plasmus’s plan?”

The vulture sighed, flapping its wings as it said, “How should I know? He’s the boss, not me!”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “These birds are of no help,” she remarked. “I thought ghosts were mandated that you couldn’t cause trouble around here.”

“That’s for fightin’ not stealin’,” the bird corrected. “He never said we couldn’t take nothin’.”

“And if I call your mother?”

The bird guffawed. “My mother? Good luck with that! She ain’t a ghost, sweetheart.”

Diana yanked on her lasso, pulling the vulture to eye level. “I’ll call your king.”

“You wouldn’t,” the vulture said, dread creeping into his voice.

“I think I’ll call him right now,” she threatened. 

“Hey! That’s not fair. We weren't even breaking any of his rules!”

“Boys, scatter!” he cried. Diana graciously let the bird free to fly off back to its realm. 

Constaintine’s advice worked better than she’d expected it to. Bruce would be happy to know that. One more threat to keep in his utility belt. She turned to see Hal and Clark hadn’t managed to get their crates back from the birds or properly restrain them, but the three vulture ghosts vanished. Hal was breathing heavily, having flown around in circles chasing his ghost before it disappeared. Even Clark seemed dazed. 

Bruce would be considerably less happy about that. But one crate was still here, smashed, but here. As Diana went to retrieve it, it phased through the ground. “Superman, is it underground?” she asked, staring at the wooden splinters left behind.

After scanning the ground, Clark replied, “It’s gone.”

Bruce was going to be significantly unhappy about that.

Hal was pissed. It’d be easier to catch a speedster than whatever that thing was. Ghosts, if those were actually real. They certainly acted more like martians from his experience, except if martians were a hundred times more difficult to fight. No offense to J’onn. 

Batman was going to give them shit for letting them escape with the crates. He wasn’t even here to fight with them! If Batman’s fight was anything like theirs, he probably needed backup– And there he was walking towards them with his grumpy face poking out of the cowl. 

“Where have you been?” Green Lantern questioned. 

Batman didn’t bother explaining himself. He never did. Too good for it. 

All Batman did was announce, “Klemper will be returning with us to the watch tower.”

“What?” Superman questioned. 

“Klemper?” Green Lantern exclaimed. There was a large, humanoid guy crouching behind Batman, giving the three other heroes a timid wave. 

“We can just—” Wonder Woman offered, before Batman cut her off. Shocker. His words were more important than anyone else’s.

“He’s not a threat,” Batman stated firmly. At least that was reassuring. Unless…

Green Lanturn asked, “...And you're not like, mind controlled, or anything?” 

Batman’s glare silenced him.

Superman responded by saying, “If Batman thinks we should bring Klemper back with us, I think we should listen to him.” Like he always did. There were few things you could consistently count on happening in the Justice League. One of those was that Superman would always take Batman’s side no matter what. He just trusts his judgement. It’s nothing personal. If Hal didn’t know better he’d say the blue boy scout had a crush. Thankfully, no one in their right mind could have feelings for someone with that bad of an attitude. 

As Batman pulled a little remote out, calling his jet over, he asked, “Where’s the crates?”

“Uh, about that–” Superman began. 

Hal squeezed his eyes shut. Ugh. Another lecture on how they sucked at their jobs. Great. Just what he wanted to hear on their way back to the Watchtower.

Danny pulled a few shirts out of his closet, tossing them on his bed. The white one was nice, but it had a wrinkle and he couldn’t remember where the iron was, so that was eliminated. That left the dark blue and the black button up. Danny grabbed the hangers and took the clothes out into the common room where Tucker was sitting on a barstool, hunched over his food. 

He asked, “Which one of these looks better?” holding the shirt in front of him before alternating to the other one.

Tucker commented, “They’re the same shirt?”

“The color Tuck, come on. I need some help here!”

“Uh, does that matter? They’re both dark so your pale skin pops,” Tucker remarked, taking another spoonful. “Who cares if it’s navy or black?” the words were so muffled it was only through listening to Tucker talk while eating for so many years that Danny even understood what he was saying. 

“I care,” Danny emphasized. Where was Sam when he needed her? What would she say? Black. She’d always pick black. Danny discarded the navy shirt and started buttoning the black one up. 

“Uh, dude?” Tucker said.

“What is it now? Can’t you see I’m kinda in a hurry?”

“Yeah I could tell by the way you put your pants on backwards,” Tucker remarked. “But if you don’t want me to tell you, I’ll keep it to myself in the future.”

“I– What? Ugh!” Danny quickly striped and turned his pants around, nearly falling over in his rush. “Sorry, Tucker, I just want to look nice. Jason’s so, he’s put together in a way that looks effortless and I was covered in wheatgrass when we met. I want to look presentable.”

Tucker laughed at him. “Yeah, I get it man. I try to look good for the ladies too.”

Danny eyed the grease stains on Tucker’s shirt from the meat he was eating. “...Right.” he said, grabbing his phone and wallet, shoving them into his leg. “I can’t believe you still have food from when I picked you up.”

“Hey, The Lunch Lady knows how to hook a man up!” Tucker remarked, shoveling another spoonful of ground beef into his mouth. “Her cooking doesn’t even expire because of her powers!”

Danny smiled and rolled his eyes playfully, recalling all the leftovers he had to portal through to their shared home. Still, he hadn’t realized just how much there was in the box Lunch Lady sent Tucker home with. “That explains why there were so many tupperware containers in the fridge. I couldn’t even put my energy drink in,” he remarked

Tucker shrugged. “So? You have ice powers. Just make it cold yourself.”

“I did,” Danny retorted. “And that’s not the point. You need to make space in there. Sam’s vegetables and tofu were shoved to the very back!” If he kept this up, Danny wouldn’t even be able to blame Sam for dividing up the fridge to designate space for each of them. As of now, it was every-man-for-themselves, but they normally didn’t keep the fridge fully stocked.

“She’s been eating out more anyway,” Tucker deflected, waving off Danny’s concerns. “And I’ve been making a dent in them!” he argued, holding up the tupperware he was eating out of to emphasize his point.

Before Danny could argue further, there was a knock at the door. “He’s here,” Danny panic-whispered. “Am I good?” he asked, looking to Tucker for reassurance. 

“Socks and shoes?” Tucker replied. Danny opened a portal to his sock drawer while using telekinesis to bring his shoes over to him. He quickly put them on while he floated over to the door.

He hadn’t noticed his shoes hit Tucker in the back of the head until his friend commented on it. “Dude,” Tucker said, shooting Danny a mild glare that was not being received because Danny was too busy struggling to unlock the door. Why was Gotham like this? Sure there was crime, but did a door really need seven locking mechanisms? One deadbolt was fine!

When Danny finally opened the door, Jason was standing there, looking very nice. He was in a soft looking red t-shirt paired with a black leather jacket and jeans. He smelled nice too, like vanilla, lavender, and… ectoplasm? No, that didn’t make sense. Was it Danny? It had to be. Was he leaking? Did he have ecto-B.O. right now? Danny pulled all of his ambient energy towards himself and tucked it away. said, “Um, I’m almost ready. Let me just grab one thing real quick–” He darted into his room and slathered himself with deodorant. Hopefully that would save him.

It wasn’t like ectoplasm smelled bad, if anything, it was rather muted, but he wanted to make a good impression! Smelling nice was dating 101. He had a bottle of cologne that Sam had gifted him. Bless her. He gave himself a small spritz on his neck and wrists, because he knew too much was worse than none at all. It smelled like pine. 

Danny gave himself a onceover in his mirror before he had to leave. It was a miracle he did because his fly was down. Danny quickly fixed that and hoped Jason hadn’t noticed. Otherwise, he’d have to die again. His luck couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Sorry, forgot my phone,” Danny lied as he came back out and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. 

Jason immediately noticed the cologne. It was cute that he ran back for it. “No worries. You all ready now?” he asked.

“Yep!” Danny easily agreed.

“Great,” Jason remarked as he took Danny’s hand in his own. “Let’s go.” 

Danny’s grip became more firm as his confidence seemed to grow, though there was a dusty pink to his cheeks. While they walked to the elevator, Jason let his finger slide down Danny’s wrist. His pulse was definitely elevated. Jason smiled. At least he wasn’t the only one a little nervous about this. 

Thankfully, Danny had fixed his fly, so Jason didn’t have to really embarrass him by letting him know it was down. 

Now, they could focus on having a nice date.

Chapter Text

The window Red Hood broke the last time he was here got fixed. It was cleaner than the other windows. The rest had a thick layer of dust that slightly tinted the glass. The inside of the building smelled stale with a hint of old carpet, but that didn’t detract from the fact that the place was still huge and full of the best parts of science. 

At the front of the museum, there was a giant t-rex. The bones were definitely made of plastic or resin. It was still pretty cool, though. There were two skeletal pterodactyls suspended from the ceiling, also fake. As they walked through the actual dinosaur exhibit, there were a handful of real fossils. There was a footprint from an eubrontes, a few trilobites, and a spinosaurus tooth.

Jason was still holding his hand. It was firm without being uncomfortable, and warm, almost toasty. Danny’s hands ran cold, but he blamed it on anemia if anyone asked. Jason hadn’t asked, yet. Maybe he was being polite. 

“Um, any bets on who'll rob this place?” Danny joked. 

“Probably the Penguin or Clayface. The real question is what they're gonna steal. My money’s on the moonrock NASA lent them,” Jason replied easily. 

“They have a moonrock?” Danny asked, trying to conceal his excitement to the normal amount someone would have for looking at a rock. A space rock. From the moon. He wanted to look at it under a microscope so bad. 

“It’s tiny, but they still sell for a good chunk of change on the black market. Someone’s got to go for it sooner or later,” he stated. “My sister thinks something from the Egyptian exhibit ’s gonna get stolen first. But the emerald scarab necklace or whatever got stolen like two months ago, so I doubt someone would go for that section again, not when there’s a pocket-sized payout two halls down.” 

As they moved out of the dinosaur exhibit, Egypt was their next big thing. Even if their necklace was still in police custody, there were a decent amount of relics to look at. There was an interactive area set up for children to learn how to write their names with hieroglyphics beside some old stone tablets. 

Further down the hall was the mummy. It wasn’t in a sarcophagus. It was just bandaged up in a glass case. At least his ghost sense wasn’t going off, but who knew if there was some cursed relic that could change all that. 

“Scared it’ll come back to life?” Jason joked.

“Weirder things have happened,” Danny replied. He really didn’t need another Hotep RA situation. 

Aside from the mummy, there was an ancient Egyptian statue of Bastet, the cat goddess. This depiction was a black housecat with a tiny golden scarab on its head and gold hoop earrings. As Danny got a closer look at it, a cold breath left his lips. Dread instantly pooled in his stomach. Not today. Not on his date. Maybe it was just cold in here. The A/C was cranked up pretty high. Unless things really got out of hand, he was gonna ignore this one. 

There was a heat in the back of Jason’s throat. The warmth was similar to the burn of alcohol. The problem with that was he hadn’t taken a shot. Hell, he hadn’t drank anything in the last eighteen hours. He glanced around the museum as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was off. 

Danny asked, “Are you still looking?” It was pretty obvious he’d started to move on to the next exhibit, but was anchored in place by Jason’s hand holding his. 

“No, let’s go,” Jason replied easily. 

As they moved away, the sensation in his throat disappeared. It couldn’t have been some sort of allergic reaction, could it? That didn’t make sense. What would he be allergic to? Ancient Egypt? Old dust? There could be something cursed over there. It would be very typical of Gotham to have brought something cursed to its museum. He’d have to keep an eye out for it since he couldn’t call for backup. He’d rather fight some undead army alone than deal with his family knowing about his date. 

They’d annoy him to no end. 

The museum quickly moved from the past to the future as they entered into the hall of gadgets. Engines that were invented centuries ago to the stuff they used today, all leading up towards the space stuff. His finger brushed Danny’s wrist to check his pulse. It was up again, but for a different reason. As he’d suspected from an engineering student he met in a well-worn NASA hoodie, space was his thing. 

The moonrock was certainly a rock. Maybe it’d be more impressive if he’d never gone to space before. Kori had given him some weird shit from her home planet. They were a little more interesting than a tiny grey rock. At least Danny seemed to like it. He was checking it out from a few different angles. Jason was pretty sure it’d be equally boring no matter what side he stared at. 

It was crazy how much that thing went for. It was no wonder they used such thick glass to protect it from becoming an easy smash and grab. That wouldn’t stop some of Gotham’s more experienced thieves, but there was only so much the museum could do on their own.

They eventually moved on to the rest of the space shit. Danny was happily geeking out over the section they had on the mars rover. Wayne industries had donated a recreation of it a few days ago. He owed Tim some coffee interference again, but seeing Danny’s eyes light up was worth it. 

“Oh my gosh, they even have the schematics,” Danny gushed as he flipped through the laminated booklet. 

Bonus points for Timmers. Jason hadn’t thought about including any schematics, but it fit the educational theme for the museum and Danny was fucking absorbed in it. 

Jason’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Normally, he’d ignore it, except that pocket was his burner phone, the one his guys used to contact Red Hood. His voice modulator was built in, so he could talk to them without the helmet. Luckily, Danny was still pretty distracted reading about robots or something. He let go of Danny’s hand and took a step back as he answered the phone. 

“What?” Jason demanded. 

His gang knew he didn’t like being disturbed for something stupid, so the alley better be on fucking fire without him. One of his smarter goons, Big Jo, answered, “Dealers. Three of ‘em. Trying to sell something weird on your turf. It fucking glows, Boss. Don’t know what this shit does, but it’s gotta be nasty.” 

On his turf? Those dealers must have had a fucking death wish. Did they think he’d gone soft just because he’d started working with the bats again? 

“Break their fucking kneecaps,” Jason instructed. 

“Um… do I want to know?” Danny pondered, having appeared back at his side. Jason must have been too lost in his internal rage to notice Danny appear. Like an up-and-coming Gothamite, Danny asked, “Or am I supposed to pretend like I didn’t hear that?”

Jason covered the receiver with his hand so his goons wouldn’t pick him up as he replied, “It’s just a Gotham turn of phrase. Someone’s giving my guys a headache at work.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Danny said, nodding his head. 

On the other end of his speaker, Big Jo asked, “Boss, what should we do about the supplies? Save ya a sample and dump the rest?” 

“No, take them all back to the warehouse. I’ll go through it later. Don’t call me again unless it’s an emergency,” Jason ordered. His goon knew well enough to immediately hang up and get back to work.  Jason turned to Danny and said, “That’s all taken care of. It’s nothing I can’t handle when I get back in the office.” 

The museum had a cafe for people to grab a bite to eat with enough tables and chairs for a single school field trip. Hopefully, they made sure not to book more than one in the same day. The menu was your standard chicken strips, fries, burger, or salad, but they did have a special featured milkshake that was space flavored. It was a marketing tactic. Obviously it didn’t actually taste like space. But, it was a dark swirl of purple and black with white candy crystals that looked like stars, and he was absolutely getting it. 

He and Jason both got burgers. They weren’t Nasty Burgers™, but they were perfectly mediocre. The fries were a little soft and floppy, but again, they got the job done, salty potato dipped in ketchup. 

Jason asked, “So, what does space taste like?”

“Cotton candy. I didn’t expect it to be so sweet,” Danny remarked. “Maybe they think stars are like sugar crystals.”

“You don’t like it?” Jason guessed. 

“I’ll finish it,” Danny said, but admitted. “I’m not ordering it again, though.” It was too much like the sickeningly sweet syrups they advertised to children. His pallet might not be refined, but even this was a little much for him. 

“How’d you like the space exhibit? The mars rover is new. Hadn’t even heard about it yet,” Jason remarked. 

“It was incredible! The replica from Wayne industries has a few alterations from the actual Mars rover. I wonder if that was because of copyright or to improve the design,” Danny theorized. He’d looked through NASA’s database after Tucker hacked them for Danny’s birthday last year. The booklet they provided made a few alterations to the circuitry and used different sized bolts and framing in certain parts. 

“If it’s different that’s probably copyright. Did it say it in that booklet you read?”

“Kinda? The Wayne Rover is close but there’s minor things here and there that are different. It doesn’t outright say what or why they changed it, though,” Danny explained. “Sorry, that’s probably super boring. Uh—”

“What’s boring about that? It’s cool you know robotics so well. Though this paired with your gadgets from last time doesn’t help you look less like an up-in-coming rogue,” Jason joked before taking another bite of his burger.

“I don’t think I could be a rogue, finish college, and have a social life. There’s not enough time in the day,” Danny retorted back. He’d already done the hero thing, that was basically the same time commitment. It was a nightmare he had no desire to return to. 

“Fair,” Jason said with a grin. “So, how would you rate the museum, and what do you think could be improved?” 

Danny laughed, “Am I filling out a survey?”

Jason held up his phone, keeping the screen facing towards himself, so Danny couldn’t see it was blank, and lied, “We enter for a chance to win two free tickets back for every entry.”

“Sure, why not?” Danny easily agreed. He pressed his fist to his chin while he thought of his reply. 

Fuck, he was cute. 

After deliberating on it, Danny remarked, “It would have been cool if they had an observatory.”

Jason commented, “I heard a rumor they’re in the process of applying for permits, so they can build one.” With how easily the city of Gotham took bribes, it was gonna be true soon.

Danny’s face lit up. “Really? Where’d you hear that?” he asked. 

“I work in fundraising, remember? I have to apply for certain permits too, and last time I was at the mayor’s office I heard them talking about it,” Jason lied. But he was pretty confident he could either talk Bruce into donating the funds for it, or just siphon the funds out himself.

“That’d be awesome if they did that,” Danny remarked before taking a sip of his extra-sugary milkshake. 

He was getting that fucking observatory.

They threw away their trash and started to head towards the gift shop. It was the obligatory final step of visiting any museum, and Danny had fun money now. He could get whatever he wanted. Like astronaut ice cream, which was another marketing gimmick, but one he would fall prey to every time. 

They had a model rocket that he could build, and it would look so good on his shelf! And they had glow in the dark constellations? They were similar to the stars he’d already mapped out on the ceiling in his room, but he could put these on the ceiling of the kitchen and the rest of their shared space. Space themed shared space. That settled that; he was getting them.

And what would Jason like? He didn’t seem as interested in space, but he was looking at the Egyptian exhibit a lot. They mostly had toys, a hat that said “my other bed is a sarcophagus,” and there was a really nice looking book on Bastet. It was a hardcover with gold accents and it had a nice texture to it when Danny picked it up. Jason liked books. “What do you think about this?” Danny asked. 

“Looks cool,” Jason said, leaning in closer to get a better look at the cover. “That author’s written a few other books on ancient Egyptian gods.”

“Have you read this one yet?” Danny asked. He didn’t want to get Jason doubles.

“Not yet,” Jason thankfully replied. It was either a book or some sort of plushie, and this was a much better gamble. The hat was pretty funny, so he’d get that for Jason too.

“Great,” Danny said, walking over to the checkout counter to pay for his souvenirs. He got two bags, that way they each had something to carry and he couldn’t forget to give Jason the book. “Here,” Danny said, offering Jason his bag. “Let me know if it’s a good read.” 

“Thanks,” Jason replied. He even put on the novelty baseball cap. His smile was so pretty. It was blinding. Danny averted his gaze as he felt his heart beating faster. That’s when he noticed two things. Time had gotten away from them, it was already dark. And someone cut a hole in the glass ceiling. 

Danny pointed at it, “Hey Jason,” he began. “Was that always like that?” He knew the answer. He’d looked at all the windows earlier. Right now, there was a circle of sky surrounded by the dust and smog stained glass.
“No it was not,” Jason remarked, tucking the book under his arm. 

“Do we… tell someone? What’s Gotham protocol?” Danny asked. 

“I’ll make a call while we get out. Leaving is always step one,” Jason stated, wrapping an arm around Danny as he guided him towards the exit. It made sense. If they stuck around, they were more likely to get hurt or become a human shield than anything. 

There was a crack of a whip and suddenly Catwoman was ascending the t-rex, before latching onto one of the pterodactyls to make her way back to her exit when something sliced through her whip. 

The purple hero, Spoiler, was in hot pursuit as Catwoman fell to the ground. The thief landed on her feet, and sprinted towards them. Danny pushed Jason out of the way and got shoulderchecked by Catwoman. As she passed him, he couldn’t help but see the statue of Bastet sticking out of her bag. It was almost the same size as his new model space ship.

Fuck.

Steph was here, Catwoman almost took out his boyfriend, and his only saving grace was the world’s dumbest hat protecting him from being immediately recognized by Steph before she left to chase after Catwoman. The hero villain pair bolted out of the front doors. Danny was knocked onto the floor. Jason immediately ran over to check on him. “You good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m surprisingly sturdy,” Danny joked.

Jason avoided making an innuendo. It was too easy, and Danny didn’t even seem to realize what he set himself up for. To lighten the mood, he joked, “Well, guess I lost my bet. I thought someone would try to steal the moonrock first.”

“Not quite,” Danny said, revealing that cat statue from his shopping bag. “It only counts if she gets away with it, right?”

“Holy shit.” The guy who couldn’t tell he was being pickpocketed managed to swipe something from Catwoman? When he was actually paying attention, Danny had some skills. Jason needed to keep him as far away from Bruce as possible before his date could turn into his brother. 

There was an itch in the back of his throat again that started to burn. Yeah, that cat statue was cursed. They needed to get it back to security and out of their hands as quickly as possible. 

"I'll take care of this. Just sit down and wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes," Jason promised. 

"Okay," Danny reluctantly agreed.

Jason left him on a bench and left with the statue tucked under his arm. Everyone seemed to have fled after the double break-in. He couldn't even find a staff member. Jason decided, fuck it, and put the statue back in its exhibit. The weird thing about the curse was that his throat stopped burning despite still carrying the statue. Maybe the effects only lasted a few minutes. 

When he was almost back to Danny, he instinctively stopped around the corner. 

“Just find her. She’s gotta be on a rooftop," Danny stated.

Peeking around the corner, he could see Danny and a green cat on his lap. No one else was in the area. The burn was starting to come back. Judging by everything that'd been happening so far, Jason could guess that cat was a ghost. Did that mean he was allergic to ghost cats?

Danny looked exasperated as he asked, “What are you so mad about? You clearly aren’t tethered to that statue, you just like it.” 

The cat snorted, swatting at Danny’s knee. 

“Ow! Hey, what is your problem?” 

The cat meowed at him indignantly. 

“Did you want Catwoman to take you with her? Is that it?” 

The cat looked away from Danny, letting out a far more pathetic mewl. 

“From what I hear, she likes all cats, not just the statue kind. You don’t have to hide from her if you want to get adopted that badly. She’s probably still running on rooftops.” 

The cat was now staring at Danny wide eyed. 

“If you can’t find her, look for me later and I’ll see what I can do,” Danny promised. Then the cat flew through the wall. So the green cat was definitely a ghost. No speculation required. 

Jason took a few steps back down the hallway. Walking up to Danny right after that would only put him on the defensive. He'd just need to give him a minute. 

The building shook as something crashed into the ground. When Jason turned around, that fucking ghost was back. Skulker was grabbing Gentleman Ghost by the throat as he slammed them both through the information desk. 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Danny yelled. "Skulker what are you doing?" 

Skulker turned and said, “I’m hunting. What’s not to understand?” like he was answering the dumbest question he'd ever been asked.

“You shouldn't be here,” Danny stated.

“No one’s gotten hurt. Why are you here anyway?” Skulker asked casually, almost like they were old friends.

“I’m on a date, Skulker, so I don’t have time for this! He's gonna come back any minute now,” Danny explained. 

“Oh! Congratulations,” Skulker snarked. “You finally met someone with low enough standards to date you.”

If Jason had his gun, he'd have shot the guy for that.

“Ouch,” Danny said. “Just get out here!” 

Skulker reluctantly agreed, “Fine, I shall—”

Gentleman Ghost used his cane to shoot some magic purple blast bullshit that hit the pterodactyl, causing it to fall, taking chunks of the ceiling with it. It crashed on top of them all in a cloud of dust and debris. He couldn't see Danny any more. He was under all that shit. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Ugh, his nose tickled from all the dust. Danny sneezed. He shrugged off the rubble, unpinning himself from the pterodactyl wing. He seriously did not want to deal with this right now. And, in a way, he wouldn't. 

Danny checked his surroundings. If he couldn't see out, then no one should be able to see in either. He cloned himself.

As his clone turned invisible, Jason burst through the dust cloud to get him. Oof, talk about timing. Danny was so startled by him that he'd fallen back on his butt. Luckily, Jason helped Danny to his feet while Danny's clone turned ghost and reappeared as the High King, dragging Skulker and the other guy out of the museum. 

Now that the troublemakers were gone, Jason insisted on checking him for injuries. Danny, however, had already healed all the tiny cuts he'd gotten from the glass that fell down with it. No bruises, no scratches or scrapes, honestly he hoped that fact didn't concern Jason too much because it'd look less strange if he'd been beat up a little more. 

"And you thought you had bad luck," Jason joked as he rolled Danny's sleeve back down his arm. The fabric had a few tears in it, but his skin was fine. 

"If I was lucky, I'd have been far away from any of that," Danny retorted. 

"Gentleman Ghost isn't in Gotham very often. No idea who the other guy was," Jason remarked. 

"Never heard of Gentleman Ghost," Danny said, avoiding any mention of Skulker. He might have been fighting the dead, but he really needed to work on the when and where.

Jason wrapped his arm around Danny and promised, "Don't worry. I'll get you home safe and sound."

That got his heart beating. Danny forgot how to walk, tripping himself up as they made their way to Jason's motorcycle. Thankfully, that ended up making him look more stunned from the building collapsing than he actually was. 

The sun had set, but the nightlife was just getting started. Thankfully any and all rogue activity for their night seemed to be over as they had an uneventful drive back to the condominium. 

They took the elevator up. Once they got to Danny's door, Jason leaned down, pressing his lips against Danny's. It was a chaste kiss, but Danny's heartbeat was drumming in his ears. "See you later," Jason said with that stupidly charming smile. "Next time, we'll try to avoid a rogue attack."

When he remembered how to speak, Danny agreed, "Yeah." 

Danny stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He floated up in the air as he started fist pumping. He got a kiss! His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, but he didn't care.

Tucker paused his show, turning around on the couch to ask, "Sooo, how'd it go?"

"He kissed me," Danny said with a huge, dumb grin.

"Wow, a kiss after the second date. Things are moving pretty fast," Tucker commented. 

Danny's smile faltered as he asked, "Wait, am I easy?" 

"You made it to first base. Who cares?" Tucker remarked. "You guys are definitely a thing now."

"But we're not in high school anymore. What if he's seeing other people too? I didn't ask…" There was no guarantee they were exclusive yet.

"Nah man," Tucker dismissed, waving off Danny's worries. "He's totally into you. Besides, you guys had museum dates. Not exactly a short term dating spot. He's not trying to Netflix and Chill you."

"Point taken…" Danny relented. If Tucker was right, then, he had a boyfriend.  

Selina finally slipped away from Spoiler, leaning back against an A/C unit as she opened her bag to check on her prize. Instead of a lovely cat, it was some sort of model spacecraft kit. 

She'd been had. 

Just as her mood soured, there was the sweetest little mewl. Selina felt the edges of her lips curl up as she looked around for the adorable furball it belonged to. She wasn't expecting the poor thing to be green, but it came right up to her, purring and rubbing against her legs. 

"I guess it wasn't a total loss," she mused, scratching her new baby's chin. 

She was purring like a lawnmower.