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Chapter Text

Twelve week scan

Touching the screen she could not help as she smiled wide. The image was black and white, and the ultrasound machine showed two distinct little forms. Thalia had not one but two gifts from her beloved. Each in an individual sac, improving the chances of proper development. Her boys. (Confirmed boys, she ran prenatal DNA scans to ensure the genetics were perfect. She hoped for one of each, to reduce competition for heir.)

Her father would be pleased too. Eventually. 

For now, Talia needed to do what she needed for the children to develop safely. A pregnant woman with her lifestyle would be far too vulnerable.

“Prepare the procedure”, she ordered, sitting up carefully. Her hands unconsciously resting on her stomach, taking in the last moments her children would have in the warmth of her own womb.

“Lady Talia, the procedure is experimental, the damage to your body, your…” The doctors spoke frantically. As they should, the safety of their lives depended on it, even if one could be brought back.

“Enough”, she snapped at them. 

The daughter of the demon’s head did not care. They could remove her uterus in the process and she would simply get a transplant (the organ black market is always available). There was disappointment in not being able to bear her children. She was used to taking lives, not giving them.

She soothed her worries with promises of two children. To not carry them is a small price to pay. 

Age 0

The incubation room was filled with noise. A newborn baby still wailing loudly in her arms. Thalia handed the screaming baby to a servant and turned to the other. The boy didn’t cry, the extraction went wrong, a small malfunction. Her second son was dead. A plump body turning blue, face frozen. The fact she had conceived two successful embryos from her beloved brought her pride. She watched the two tiny bodies develop in the artificial womb, picking names and silently celebrating their kicks. She read to them to get them used to her voice, even over the phone, or played recordings of herself. 

To lose one was unacceptable. 

Taking her sword she slit the nurse’s neck, leaving the woman to slowly bleed out on the floor. Though the groves between the tiles, the water heads towards the pool of water. Taking her first born, she places the child on the water, the colour turning red. Thalia smiles. He is strong, a conqueror in the making, swimming in the water.

“Damian”, Talia announced as she handed the baby to the servant. The boy took control easily- his destiny should be to subdue his opponents.

Her second too, needed to swim. 

Returning to the body laid out on the towel. She stretched her arms out to the new born. She can ask for forgiveness later.

“Bring Damian too”, she ordered the servant who was drying the baby up from the blood and water. 

They headed down. Her first cried, showed strength and signs of life. The bubbling Lazarus pit greeted her in full glory. Talia lowered the body into the water and watched it sink beneath the waters. Damian stopped crying as a tiny head raised above the water. Her lips split into a small smile as the tiny boy swam towards her. His eyes, they were just like those of her beloved. She lifted the babe out of the water and held him in her arms. 

One option she considered was naming them after the saints. Damian and Cosmas. A judge, he experienced life and death the day he is born. He shall be both judge and executioner.

“Danyal”.

Age 3

Plumps rosy cheeks rubbed against each-other as the boys shared a bed. Despite the hot and humid climate, they found comfort in physical contact of one another. In their sleep they showed their individuality. Danyal would cling tight to Damian, wrapping his arms round him with great force. Damian’s hands would in return brush through his brother’s hair, soothing and calming the younger boy.

Perhaps reigning in his own emotions, as one does when coming back. 

“Report”, Talia ordered in a whisper.

The servant entered barely making a sound, bowing deeply before her, the daughter of the Demon head. “Lady Talia, there was an accident during training…”

She pretends to listen to the man, who is far more loyal to her father than her. Her own sources already told her of the cruel training that pushed her boys to their limits. Her father sends her on missions, leaving her sons at their grandfather’s behest. 

“I shall convey my gratitude to my father tomorrow”, she held her voice steady, “In Person”. The innate desire to strip her child and find the wound that took his life. But that would wake up Danyal. She has to be grateful. Her father was gracious, he brought the child back with waters of the Lazarus pit. 

But if he… no. Talia dismissed the thought. Both her boys were alive. That is all that matters.

The missions took her away often, in the dim light she took in their changing features. Both took after Bruce. However, Danyal’s nose was closer to her own and he bore a speckling if freckles. Damian got her eyebrows and eyes. 

Damian opened his eyes, a little dazed, “Mama, you have returned?” 

She only hummed in response, a melody she long forgot the worlds of, perhaps something her own mother used to sing to her.  She recorded the hum and left it playing near the incubation pod, to have her voice playing at all times. Damian didn’t stay awake much longer, pulling Danyal closer. Her eldest always used his younger brother for comfort.

“Mama?” Danyal whispered, opening his blue eyes. Those eyes that matched her beloved.

“Habibi, sleep”, she replied, stroking both their heads. Tomorrow she will train them herself, so they need their strength.

Age 7-Damian

“Danyal!” Damian shouted with the full force of his lungs as he emerged from the Lazarus pit. He looked around at the horrified servants, Mara coughing as she climbed out at the edge. But no Danyal.

Three bodies were lowered into the pit today. Only two emerged.

Damian eventually swam to the edge and climbed out. He accepted the towel but refused the servants to touch him. After training- he and Damian would use the towels to mess up each other’s hair. A small ritual to check up on each other. Damian felt empty. His own hand didn’t feel right. He dried himself off and sat down, staring at the bubbling green.

Waiting. 

Danyal has waited for his brother before the day they were born, and Danyal waited for his revival in return when they were three. The greeting of a familiar face always made the return worth it. 

Not this time. For now, Damian would stew in his anger and woe.

When the culprits who attacked the blood of the demon were all captured, Damian let his bottled up grief and despair guide him. His sword became an extension of himself. He wanted revenge for his twin. 

Grandfather seemed to be overjoyed from this development, the furore and the violence. 

Age 11- Danny

Danny grabs his chest, the pain is brief, but concentrated. He doesn’t know exactly where it is coming from. Muscles tense and vision blurs, he can’t move. Why can’t he mover. A sense of high alert runs through Danny as his eyes dash around the room looking for would be attackers. Attackers? He feels stuck, locked in place as his body stiffens. He does feel immense agony. Tears stream from his face. He cannot breathe, he feels his chest crushed and lungs like they are punctured. His mouth feels dry, he gasped for air like a fish out of water. 

“R̶̡̧̛̳͍o̸͓͂̆b̶͇̖̪̑̋̐̐į̶́̍n̶̢̫̥̬̪̍̄̓̐͝!̶͓̞̾͝”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see figures, someone is running to him. A fall large figure with something pointy on his head. For a split second he feels warmth, care and longing. He wants this figure closer, to hold him, to stop the pain and make it all okay.

“STAY WITH ME, Ȓ̷̨̩Ŏ̸̡̲͈͠B̸̖̭̯́͌́̈̈͜Ǐ̴̢̨̭͜͜N̴͍̭̦͑!”

He is dying and he doesn’t want to die. 

How does he know what death feels like?

“Danny?”

His vision starts coming back, the kitchen cabinets with scuff marks and smell of pizza with too many topics. (Someone decided to show an ectoplasm sample in the middle of cooking dinner, unfortunately the casserole ran away). A hand is holding his, gently, rubbing his fingers. Madeline Fenton, his foster mom is a crouched on the floor. Her hands were free of the latex gloves. She continues massaging the back of his hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t… I don’t know?” Danny answers, sobbing, he doesn’t know why he feels this way. The grief.

Arms wrapped around him and held him tight. Jack Fenton… Dad held him close, letting him squish against his chest. Danny mourned someone who’s name kept leaving the tip of his tongue.

Age 12- Damian

Robin was putting on his suit when his muscles spammed and he dropped to the floor. He knew the pain, in fact he was very familiar with it. The League of Assassins torture training training covered electrocution extensively. Climbing electric fences was a walk in the park now. This felt similar and at the same time much worse. He could only stifle a scream for so long before he broke. 

His eyes were filled with flashing white and green, blurring his vision. 

The rest of the family rushed to him, with Richard picking him up off the floor and holding him close as he thrashed in pain. Ears ringing as he heard two overlapping voices saying… something ?

D̶̖̯̐̒̕ą̴̝͕̏́̈́n̵̯̭̒̽͘ǹ̷͉̹ý̶̼̅͐!̷͈̇̐͠ ̸͖͎̳͌́D̴͔̖͒͗ä̴͓̺̎͑n̶̨̙̈́ͅn̶̡̡̒͊̔ÿ̵̧̬́

Were they calling his name? The female was likely Gordon on the loud speaker, or perhaps Brown returned to the cave? Cassandra is in Europe so it cannot possibly be her. The figure bob length black hair, his vision must be affected. Duke seems to be smaller too.

“Damian, Dami”, he could hear voices, but he couldn’t stop screaming. 

When he regained consciousness, Damian panted, laying in Richard’s arms as Father approached. Batman without his cowl crouched down, looking at the Damian. 

His face is warped with concern and fear. “Damian”, he speaks softly, the fear in his voice is barely audible.

“Father”, Damian was surprised by how raspy his voice became, “I don’t think it’s my spine”.

That was the first fear. To this day, they check in on him as he sleeps, there are scans of medical, technical and even magical components of the hardware.

“Why do you think that, Little D?” Grayson asked.

“Because, Richard, then the pain would not have started from my arm”.

Age 13- Damian- present day.

Damian felt the air resistance messing with his hair as he hunched low, pressing himself down flat against the HellBat’s back. The route is planned perfectly, an altitude below cruising of airlines and away from air routes. It is dark and trusting Goliath to choose a safer path allowed Damian to take in the scenery below as he mulled over recent facts. Glimpses of cities and farms blurred as they crossed another state line.

Galas, raising money for animal shelters, generally creating an image of an arrogant rich brat with nothing better to do was cover work. Recent discoveries and research investments were something he checked from time to time. A rather brief article on purple back gorillas. That was it. Digging deeper resulted in a new topic of investigation. One that perhaps did not warrant such alarm.

“Damian”, Timothy’s voice rang through his coms, he must be very bored with a broken ankle, stuck monitoring, “We are all sick of the press releases we have to do for Jason. Getting the guy resurrected is a circus and not the fun kind”, he tried his best to imitate Grayson. “The media isn’t only hounding you. Plus! It’s a week night and you have school tomorrow”.

“Ttt”, the sound slipped his lips. Goliath huffed in support. 

Damian knew he muted them before leaving. He could not block them completely, not without causing frantic searches in his name.  Judging from the clinking of fine porcelain Alfred is there. There is a high likelihood the conversation is either recorded or is being transmitted to everyone else.

“I am aware, Drake. Taking Goliath out for some exercise will not interfere with school work. It is below me”.

He could almost hear Drake’s the eye roll on the other end, “All the way in..,”

“I will tell Alfred about the stash of canned coffee in the hidden compartment of your vehicle if you do not drop this. Good bye, Drake”, Damian snapped back, taking off his coms. In a strange way, he was grateful to have the excuse now. His family already expects his temper, his outbursts.

Goliath grumbled below him, his wings changing  motion as he  slowed down. The manoeuvre acted as breaking. The beast’s nostrils flared, his loyal companion caught scent. It was likely too faded, and scents change as people mature. The shirt was old, tiny, and one of the few possessions Damian had actively hidden from father. Simple black cotton shirt, one of the many identical ones they wore in training. Stolen from the laundry before the servants had a chance to wash it. Damian remembered the night he awoke to mother, her fingers carefully tracing the fabric. She placed it in a sealed bag before placing it back in the hiding spot. 

They hovered in the air, looking down at the smaller town of Amity park. “Down”, Damian ordered softly, steering his steed towards the edge of town.  The rest of the search would be done on foot. He covered up his armour with a large black hoodie. With Goliath hidden in the woods, Damian snuck into the town under the cover of night. His first stop would be the local social services

It was a small office, likely housing no more than five employees on a daily basis. Damian checked for any security before attempting to hack into the system. These idiots did not even power down their computers! Damian got in easily, 

With a memory drive ready he found the target file.

Daniel James Fenton

The file started briefly, a truck driver named James Buchanan found a young boy collapsed on the side of the road. The seven year old was disoriented and spoke strangely, the file suspected some kind of neurodivergence to affect his behaviour and strange pronunciation.

Damian sneered, these imbeciles didn’t even suspect that English was not his first language. At birth mother taught them the league dialect and Classical Arabic, they picked up Mandarin Chinese and Urdu from their wet nurses and servants. The Russian was practiced with their cousins, at first as a misguided attempt to get closer, and then to trade insults in training. Mother added English to their curriculum in an academic setting, much later. To this day, Damian preferred and could not more away from the teachings. English may be their father tongue, but in order of learning? It was arguably fifth or sixth.

He bit his lip to keep himself silent as a lazy security guard passed the hallway with a flash light.

It angered him to read the file. The name on the screen was a mixing pot: Daniel instead of Danyal, the middle name James after the truck driver who found him, lastly- Fenton to match his long term fosters. They butchered his brother’s name.

It’s not Daniel, it’s Danyal! He remembered his twin protesting to their teachers at the boisterous age of five. Those blue eyes filled with fury. Explaining name variations did not calm him.  

Damian stopped himself, trying his best not to read all the files spanning the last six years. With the files downloaded, he erased all evidence of his presence here. He had an address. All evidence already points towards the fact that this is not a clone. Still, he just wanted to see him. They used to share everything, help each-other with every task. 

One glimpse. One look.

Same time- Danny

Tucker stopped to stare at him. Like he grew a second head. No, that can’t be right. Danny did grow a second head once (trying to duplicate) and Tuck’s face was completely different. Instead he looked at him with curiosity and confusion, two emotions battling it out on his face. Tuck leaned on one arm before grabbing a piece of beef jerky and taking a minute to chew on it.

“Tucker, I just told you I have dreams of fighting my twin using martial arts! In a desert!” Danny was exasperated, and not because of the project they had been assembling for the better part of the last two hours. A motorised model of the solar system, Danny was getting the sizes of the planets just right while Tucker programmed the relative speeds of planets and all the satellites that they could. 

Danny glanced at the window, he had the strange feeling that someone was watching them. He had to be wrong. Or perhaps paranoid, after the creepy dreams. His ghost sense wasn’t working, so it wasn’t an attack. Probably. The anxiousness was fading. His core seemed to hum. Did Jazz come home?

He can’t think about that now. His grades are on the line here.

Ever since he got his ghost abilities- he got dreams. At first he thought they were nightmares- a swirling green, swimming in it with people wearing robes waiting for him to emerge. An old man with a sword telling him off on poor form and how weak he is. A woman with long black hair calling him, her voice wasn’t particularly sweet, but it was warm. He longed to hear more.

But lately he dreams of talking to a boy who almost looks like his reflection. Except Danny can see the differences: a slightly wider nose, the lack of freckles and his eyes of a bright emerald green.

Danny takes off Pluto from the model, an old simple round ball that was far too big for the model. He had the replacement painted just right and the mechanism modified for the correct orbit. The base is one they found at the local thrift store. Dad (mostly with mom’ monitoring) helped fix the wiring and install the additional motors.

He looks up at his best friend who went back to the laptop, running the program for the presentation. “Tuck!”, he tries to get his attention.

“I was chewing, Danny. Jeez”, Fowley finally replied. “I have a question- what language were you speaking? In the dream. It probably is wasn’t English”.

“How did you know?”

“It’s something my dad said- your mannerisms when we first met, your grammar choices back then too”, Tucker explained, “you also spoke strange words in your sleep back then”.

Danny’s shoulders slumped, he couldn’t remember any of that.

“Also”, his best friend continued. “You knowing how to fight almost instantly? It made me think that you did martial arts before”.

Danny thought back to how he reacts to his mom, she could toss him. Over the shoulder, out of no where. (She held back of course). Danny would easily get out of her hold, or fake fall while instinctively rolling himself to minimise impact. He always felt lighter after the little spars. His bones itched for it, the familiarity.

“Think about it! Even if I had your powers, I would probably cause way more property damage”.

Danny was thinking about it. His placement with the Fentons was strange enough, Jazz said it was a miracle they qualified as fosters. The way he knew exactly how to punch, ghost powers be damned. Sometimes he looked at flash and his mind flashed to him lying on the ground with a broken jaw. He always counted the flies and windows when entering a building. Always looked for knives in every kitchen. 

“Who… who am I?”

Chapter Text

Aproximately 1 year ago- Dr Madeline Fenton 

They should have never left the house. Or better- taken Jazz and Danny with them to have dinner. Madeline Fenton cursed herself as her husband hit play. The footage was a little shaky, the best it could be in Amity. Due to ectoplasmic contamination, even the highest grade military equipment malfunctions, not achieving advertised quality.

“They are not supposed to be there“, Jack’s voice is shaky, he is trying to stay quiet when he pressed play.

They wind past them leaving the lab, the lights flic back on. Danny and his two friends are sneaking down to the basement lab to look at the portal. Bad enough that they are entering the space unsupervised, at least Danny was given all the guidelines on what not to touch. (Everything!) Have these two been given a rundown on lab safety? Drs Fenton watched Danny put on the hazmat suit. Was he hoping that that would protect him, when he went inside the machine? But the tape! The tape on the floor marked the safety area. It is still plugged in!

Jack’s hands trembled on Maddie’s shoulders as they watched their life’s work come to life with their kid inside. She grit her teeth as the screen flashed, there was no audio (yet another quirk of Amity’s effect on technology), but judging from the panic of the two pre-teens, it had to be… bad.

Danny stumbled out… with bright white hair. The white hazmat suit turned turned black. He stumbled, but stayed up. His friends helped him walk after several attempts where their hands went right through him. 

Maddie rested her hand on her husband’s, “Oh Darn! It got fried in that electrical surge”.

“Honey?” Jack asked, he met her gaze and realised what Maddie meant. That avoidant talk when something had to be done in secret. Usually getting rid of something dangerous. 

Or in this case: Destroy all evidence. 

“Well, yes, that electrical surge corrupted all our stupid cameras”, he said, gritting his teeth, “it did fix the portal issue… too bad we cannot replicate the results”. 

She knew she picked right when she began crushing on the cute driver back in the army. Her crush only get deeper when they ended up in the same college, pursuing education with their VA benefits. Maddie patted her husband, silently confirming the story they will sell if the government tried to investigate. It also gave her ideas: Cannot replicate results. 

All she had to do was make their technology unusable. Add requirements, blame it on ghosts being … less than compatible. Bring back all of the more insane inventions (some of the gag ones Jack drew to make her laugh) and make them as difficult to implement as humanely possible. The lawmakers already butchered their scientific papers, reading reports on basic low grade blob-like ghosts as generalisation on all ecto-entities. Even if they are not sentient, (which is a philosophical debate, not a scientific one) they had to be treated with respect. Like bodies people donate to science. That emotion imbued ectoplasm was a memory, someone’s last breath or anything else. They had to be studied, which is why they were making tools to do so.

How hard was it to read nuance? No wonder science funding keeps getting cut. 

Jack worked on erasing all evidence and contaminating the scene of the crime. It had to be done. 

Later, Maddie walked upstairs. First, peaking into her daughters room: Jazz was fast asleep, she took to it like a soldier, probably following their example as both Maddie and Jack were getting used to civilian life when she was born.

Next was Danny’s room. She cracked the door open only to see her boy, hugging an extra pillow in his sleep. Soft snores interrupted the silence. Maddie walked in and looked at his hands. His left arm was covered in pronounced Lichtenberg scars, ones she much bigger than she had seen before. The fact he was alive was a miracle.

Or maybe not.

Was there something different about the little boy? Something from his background neither they or Danny himself knew? Placing a (likely) traumatised child with amnesia is a family of two veterans who dabbled in experimental science was not standard procedure. Not at all. They weren’t sure if they would ever be given a license. Granted, they handled some of Danny’s more shocking behaviours quite well. The almost silent walking, the way he held knives and posture while eating. 

Her fingers traced through his hair, feeling a faint scar hidden under it. Just above the ear, thin and straight. He was her boy now (she just wishes it was official) and she will protect him, no matter what. 

Two weeks ago -Madeline Fenton 

Jack couldn’t drive fast enough. Ironic, considering he managed to get so many soldiers to safety. Maddie grit her teeth as they pulled into the drive through. The GIW gave probably bugged their car while they were on tour. 

Bastards. 

Their profiles on them were more likely overshadowed by their more recent demeanour, their recent antics and the image of a healthy family (trying their best to cover up some of that PTSD). To their surprise, Jack letting in self be his lovable goof-ball in public and showing their love worked wonders. Much better than being “normal”.

However, they got that “crazy” reputation. 

Double M or Mad Maddie was her army nickname, most assumed it was for unhinged actions she got away with (like the time she broke a fellow officer’s arm in training after he groped her). Only those she trained with knew the real origin of the nickname. How she solved issues in the most roundabout ways possible. Plans that seemed more looney tunes than real life. 

Just as they got close to the window they turned on the scrambler. The audible pop of a tiny electronic short circuiting proved her hunch. The fake fangirl smile Maddie had plastered in her face will give her wrinkles, and not the cute grandma kind. She massaged the corners of her mouth, wanting to drink something desperately to get the taste of false praise out. 

“We will have two caramel shakes, two burgers…” Maddie zoned out as Jack listed off the order. 

The facilities they showed, the bastardisation of their life’s work. It just keeps getting worse. They should be researchers, scientists, not hunters! Granted, most of the weapons did not work as intended. Calibrations were off or they were the inventions that granted minimal results. 

It was too much. Phantom was on their radar. The Ghost investigation Ward was after her boy! Worst of all? If they did catch Danny, they had no leg to stand on in court. If they were his legal family- then maybe they could. But they were just long term fosters for a non-adoptable child. The apologetic looks of the social worker Ida gave them as she explained it.

She did mention a caveat.

Maddie accepted the bags of food before placing them on the back seat. 

“His bio family”, she muttered to herself.

“Still thinking on how to get Danny out?” Jack asked, his voice soft and placid.

“Yes, dear”.

She was generally against the idea. The calluses on Danny’s hands, his bristly nature. In the past she had to spar with him under the excuse of “teaching Danny martial arts”. Except her boy was far more advanced than she ever was. He couldn’t place what or how he did it, but Danny could fight. Wherever he came from, trained him. 

“Well, I don’t know about parents”, Jack replied, “But he did say ‘akhi’ in his sleep before. Perhaps we should look for a brother?”

“Arabic?”, Maddie tuned back in from her conspiracy theory building mind. For years she considered that maybe Danny escaped from an experimental facility or was some black market child soldier. 

“And maybe he was trafficked here from outside the US”, Jack added.“Maybe we should ask, he might have remembered something after six years”.

Maddie remembered the resolve she made a year ago. She considered it. Sending her son away. To give him to someone else. Logically, she knew that it was better to have her child safe than to have him near. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Now- Bruce Wayne

A twin. Talia hid not one but two children from him. Damian spoke of his brother with such fondness and longing, one he had previously shown in regards to Dick. To hear his son explain about the times he died at ages three and seven. It was difficult for Bruce not to show his facial expressions, especially when Damian spoke of his resurrection. How Danyal’s body vanished in the Lazarus pit. (Bruce hypothesised if it added to Damian’s outright rejection and insecurity around his adopted siblings).

“You are sure, Master Damian? That he is not one of the clones?” Alfred, gentle and reassuring, looked at the photos that Damian took though the window of the residential home, he remained reassuring “or perhaps a clone of Danyal you were not aware off?” The message between the lines was read- Please be careful in getting your hopes up too soon.

“Danyal had to be dipped in the Lazarus pit after he was born… mother got lashings for doing so without permission”, Damian tensed revealing new information, his back went even straighter than his perfect posture. Damian’s breath faltered at the word Lashings. “His DNA would be more corrupted than my own if used to attempt a healthy clone”. 

Bruce offered his hand to Damian, giving him a reassuring squeeze as he looked at the information his son gathered from the CPS database (still not linked to the national database). He also got academic records from Casper Middle School (amazing grades for most subjects except English). Most important were the photos. In them was a boy on concentrating on a school project. 

The similarity to Damian was obvious: eye shape, facial structure, balance of features and black hair. The differences stood out more. Danyal got Bruce’s blue eyes. His brows bushy and thick, similar to the late Thomas Wayne. But the boy’s nose was distinctly Talia’s. 

“I am aware... it is irrational to come to conclusions without a proper investigation, yet  I am convinced it is him…A gut feeling”, Damian spoke up, squeezing back, “and… He still likes stars”. A smile curved on his lip, his eyes softened when looking at Danny.

Damian kept his distance when he gathered the evidence, judging by the angle he perched himself on a nearby tree. The next file was a short video with no audio and a slight tremor in the quality.  (Was Damian nervous? Scared? It is rare for him to show signs of vulnerability.) Limited by the window of the room, which was very normal with an abnormal amount of NASA merchandise. A healthy, normal room. The two boys in the room (Danyal and his friend) were laughing, pushing and shoving as boys do. Bruce could almost hear it. Talia laughing when she flirted. The way her lips parted and she flung her head back just a little as if she was looking down on someone. Danyal’s laugh was just like that, down to that little shoulder shake that distinguished a real laugh from a forced one.

“We will do more research”, he looked up at Damian, the boy nervously shifted next to him. “Just to make sure”, he reassured him, gently stroking his head not to mess up his hair, “Ra’s had many plans in motion”.

Damian nodded briskly. began walking to the door. He gave a non confirmation: “I need to take Titus for a walk”. The door clicked shut behind him. 

Alfred waited a little to make sure the boy was outside of hearing range. “I believe Master Damian has already sequestrated the room next to his own”.

Bruce looked at the old butler with a raised eyebrow.

“I will ensure the young master will not fall off the step ladder”.

“Step ladder?”

“The young master has placed an order of paint supplies last night”, Alfred said smugly, “I believe there may be a mural in the works”.

“If it is a good outlet…” Bruce mutters to himself. He should follow Damian, make sure the boy is safe when engaging in his hobby. He certainly did not need another Chandelier incident. (Dick was giddy to post the old security camera footage edited to Sia’s chandelier when the song came out. Captioned: the reason Bruce Wayne’s chandeliers are steel reinforced. The local gossip rags had a field day with that one).

“I should get breakfast started”, Alfred refilled his cup and promptly exited the home office. Alone with his thoughts, Bruce processed the developing situation. He already had a massive media circus bigger than anything they ever did. Jason coming back to legally alive and into the lime light, heading to GothamU after getting his GED. It was all very positive. 

Left alone is the office, Bruce scanned the files again. Damian reassured him he blocked off all tracking when he obtained the documents. Still, after all of his interactions with social workers, these were suspicious aspects to it. The documentation was extensive, and yet purposefully vague. He also saw the numerous petitions by the Fentons attempting to appeal “Danny’s” non-adoption status. They really cared. 

If he is happy there, what right did Bruce have to pull the boy away from loving parents? He should just make sure they are all safe. Maybe invest in their research? (It was certainly a niche science). Donate to the school? Set up a college fund? To drag Danyal away from a safe and loving home to Gotham would only make the boy’s life worse. 

Illinois department of Child Protective Services. Branch located in Amity Park…

Bruce froze. Amity Park. He had seen this name before, only briefly, in a long 

folder of assets listed for the more unsavoury government projects. Something Justice league Dark accidentally acquired and handed over for further analysis. (It occupied Barbra for a good while to get through the encryption). If there is a connection, then she may have a hand in it. That would be a worse case scenario.

(It has been a while since Bruce prayed, but today, he just might start again).

Next Saturday - Jazz

“Danny”, Mom spoke softly, a worried smile on her face as she put her coffee mug down on the table, “we know you are Phantom, we have been pretending not to know”. 

Danny chocked on his blueberry pancakes, looking around the diner their parents dragged them to for breakfast. It was full of chattering patrons to drown out their own conversation, was just on the border of Amity, mostly filled with people passing through than locals. It was strange to be dragged out of bed for breakfast (even if Jazz was glad she was on an empty stomach for dad’s driving).

“What your mom and I are trying to say is”, Dad took a deep breath, “Son, there is a bit more going on… it’s dangerous”.

Jazz wanted to gloat, to tell her little brother all the “I told you so”s she was holding in. Her own shocked to her mother’s changed demeanour caught her by surprise. She had seen it before. The posture and seriousness presented when arguing traffic tickets in court or filing paperwork on an old law that allowed the parking of an airship on the roof of a property.  It would usually be followed by a deep sigh as a reset and an outing for ice-cream. 

“You knew?!” Jazz was aghast.  Mom and Dad knew what happed to Danny, they knew how he became Phantom. “And you did not say anything?” She fumed, angry and upset at just how much they went though, the dangers they were put through. 

“So… ugh”, Danny asked, his voice just above a whisper, “You don’t  want to dissect me?” Shoulders slumped and back pressed, it looked like he was trying to melt backwards through the pleather seat. And he probably could.

Mom gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands. 

“Dann-o!” Dad was audibly shocked, “What do you mean?”

Jazz, ticked off, spoke up at a half whisper not to draw attention, “You keep calling Phantom a menace! Threatening to pull him apart molecule by molecule!”

“But old people call kids menaces all the time”, Mom defended, she took a deep breath, “and we meant running molecular analysis...”

“The ecto-degecto?” Jazz shot back.

“Lowers ghost agitation for safe transporting”, Mom looked at them absolutely horrified, “Though we are having trouble with the delayed timing of the booster that rejuvenates them”. She met Danny’s gaze, “How much did we scare you, sweetheart?” It was a careful tone, one Jazz first heard six years ago when an abrasive seven year old was brought to their home.

“But you hate ghosts?” She felt exasperated glancing between the two, her hands in the air as she waved them around. 

Dad, audibly confused, “No? We will all end up as members of the great majority eventually. Do we get angry at all the trouble and property damage? Yes, why do you think the house has a defence system?”

Silence washed over the little booth. Jazz always assumed her parents were a little out of it, maybe some kind of trauma from the military. Now that she was getting clarifications for the logic, it made sense. There were reports of people in niche fields loosing the ability to relate to people outside their circle.

“That doesn’t explain the Fishing rod”, Danny replied, cutting his pancakes up. He shovelled some in his mouth, but his right hand held the knife dangerously. A position where it could be used as a weapon, no matter how blunt it is.

“That was a dumb idea”, Dad laughed to himself, “but how else was I supposed to draw your attention to it?”

Mom added, “It’s medical grade, and we store it in sealed bags to ensure there are no germs”. Her hand reached for Danny, but she pulled back a little, “if you ever needed to sew up your hazmat suit or…” she winced, “if you needed stitches, there had to be something to use”.

The discussion continued as both parents explained what exactly happened. Their research used as proof of concept to fund weapons. They explained the clarifications they were planning to submit to congress in order to appeal or amend the legislation. 

And then the portal incident.

“The GIW is ramping up weapon production”, mom explained, “and we aren’t sure how far they are willing to take their misguided attempts to fight beings far beyond their understanding”.

“It’s like approaching Superman with a butter knife”, dad added, looking at Danny’s hand. He took a deep  breath, “Danny, son, we love you, but you aren’t legally ours. You need more protection, a leg to stand on in court if they tried to take you. It’s why we were so agressive and taunting, to get you out of there before the suits get you”.

Jazz steered the topic back on track, “You want to look for Danny’s biological family?” She took a beep breath, “Don’t you think they would have been looking for him by now? Put out a missing child report? Looked for him?”

“Not if I’m not from here”. Danny muttered before stuffing his face full as if he did not just drop a bomb of information.

“You remember?” Mom reached out, placing her hand on Danny’s shoulder in a reassuring motion. “Do you think you can tell us?”

“I think my grandfather was very strict… he… struck if anything was wrong”. Well that just confirmed every theory of a traumatic childhood Jazz has every hypothesised for her brother. “Mama was away a lot, but I remember a…” Danny paused, looking at his plate.

“Akhi? A brother?” Dad spoke carefully, trying to break the tension.

Danny shifted a little, “A twin brother”.

Chapter Text

Sunday Morning, September 10, 20XX- Barbra Gordon

Morning, quiet, the rare chatter of muggings during the day was the only interruption to her and the case on her screen. Barbra had set up her algorithms to run on the watchtower systems, the bat computer and her own network, meanwhile directing Signal to stop a fight that broke out between two teenagers who’s DNA marked them as potentially meta human. (In a city like Gotham, people are often one bad brawl away from developing abilities). The encryption of the database was removed easily, however there were additional code names that were used in place of clear locations and most were noted down only in code or elaborate ciphers. The riddler would appreciate this level of dedication. They managed to break though some, but that did not clear up exactly what it all was. If only it was easy. Some had ties to the DOA, others to agencies that rarely popped up on the JL radar. Those were usually used as covers to siphon money.

To be a vigilante is to lose all faith in the system, Barbra thought to herself. She watched her own father try to make a difference during his career. Fighting the corruption and shady dealings on a city wide level.

The wafting smell of extra strong coffee alerted her to her visitor before she could see him, “Good morning, Tim”. 

“Hi, Barbra, sorry to drop in…” he approached carefully on crutches, holding two reusable mugs of take away coffee and a thermal lunch box hanging on his shoulder. 

“Come on in, fellow with mobility impaired, you can get away from the manor drama with me”, she joked. Steph and Cass already stopped by yesterday for Chinese after patrol, missing Alfred’s food just for some quiet girl time.

“Not you too, I’m getting enough from Steph picking fun at me tripping on patrol”. Tim rolled his eyes, placing her mug on the empty coaster next to her and unpacking the impeccable lunch box… breakfast box… BRUNCH box from Alfred. Tim walked off to get cutlery as Barbra eyed her obvious bribe of a triple chocolate muffin. The brunch box was still a priority. Finger sandwiches, a selection of cheeses and cold cuts, a rolled omelette along with a selection of fruits and vegetables laid out in intricate patterns and dipping sauces. A fusion Asian inspired bento was a good description for the perfection laid out before her. 

“How bad is it?” Barbra asked Tim when he handed her a fork and paper wrapped takeaway chopsticks he found from yesterday.

“Jason is complaining non stop, Dick is pestering him to go shopping and Damian”, Tim groaned as he got a chair to the desk and got out his custom built laptop.

“What’s wrong with babybat? All the attention is on the “Wayne Jesus” and his animal charities are getting donations”. She watched from the corner of her eye as Tim set himself up with a power cable and park himself at the end of her desk. 

“He is avoiding Dick”, Tim set up, plugging his additional wires into the clock tower systems. 

“Not unusual”, she replied before picking up a piece of omelette and dipping it in a spicy sauce. She should probably drop by for dinner soon, maybe wait a couple of days for an all clear from Dick.

“He is happy! Suspiciously happy. Damian said sorry to a wall he almost walked into”, Tim sounded exhausted before adding, “Speaking of walls! He has began painting the walls of the room next to his own”.

“He occupied another room?”, Barbra halted, “And Alfred let him?”

“Bruce is giving him space too”, Tim smirked as he typed away on his laptop, “They are hiding something from the rest of us”.

“Fools”, Barbra snickered to herself. The fools. Her algorithms were running most of the checks right now anyway. She cracked her knuckles and pulled out her databases access points. “What are we looking for?”

“I think something happened in Illinois”, Tim took a long swig, “Damian took Goliath for a fly by on the fifth. Or at least that’s where the locator last caught him before he cut it off”.

Barbra pulled up the tracker, mapping an approximate flight path, “He wasn’t just flying to hang out with Jon? Goliath would have reached Kansas shortly after her cut off”. 

“Ugh, no, he wasn’t going at those speeds or the Watch tower would have caught him”. 

Barbra snapped her fingers, “Oh! It sent of alarms the first time so we had to make the hell-bat filter to prevent false alerts”.

“Yes! Anyway- he was furious when I mentioned his location. I’m just glad he didn’t start calling names”.

“Illinois, huh?”

Barbra wondered if Damian got involved in any vigilante activity without supervision, sending in an algorithm to run for any vigilante related social media posts from the date. After a minute of thinking she expanded the search for any activity before that, an investigation maybe? A case Damian is looking into? There were the results of usual nature, big names dropping by to fix small issues. What did stand out was a Reddit thread discussing if the vigilante of the most haunted town in America was a hoax or maybe a marketing ploy. 

“Most haunted town in America”, she snorted out loud, typing the slogan to look for where that is.

Tim asked on autopilot,“Like Crystal Cove?”

“Dick made you watch mystery incorporated too?”

“He makes everyone watch Mystery Incorporated”. 

Tim worked quietly while Barbra searched through the results, identifying tourist  traps if other states and roadside attractions. Tim was checking nearby states, crimes related to animals and similar cases that tend to pull Damian in. Eventually Barbra ran across a small town named Amity park. The local social media posts spoke of a ghost hero saving them from rogue ghosts, though some people were still calling him a menace. There was even a ghost hunting couple with a van they referred to as the “Ghost Assault Vehicle”.

“Yep, very mystery inc”, Barbra mumbled to herself as she polished off the last of the veggies from her brunch box.

She looked through the posts that couldn’t even agree on a name for the vigilante, let alone get a picture. Still, Amity park rang a bell. She switched screens, checking on the cracked portion of the file. There it was, Amity Park. A word next to it consisted of seven letters. Getting that would make breaking the rest easier.

Huh.

She looked at the names for the vigilante: 

Inviso-Bill- ten or eleven symbols.

Ghost boy - eight, possibly nine.

Phantom- seven letters.

Phantom

Pressing enter proved her hunch as the name of the file unlocked along with multiple others that had the same encryption. 

“Babs, what…” 

They stared at the screen, the profile of the Amity park vigilante Phantom now taking center of the screen. The photo actually had a face. The powers listed were mind-blowing. Some were marked as suspected, others as confirmed. Skimming through Barbara found one video: Phantom being chased down until he met a dead end turned around, shoulders raised and an under brow glare directed at the people following him.  The sound of audio was  distorted, as a white sleeved hand raised itself with some kind of weapon, pointing at the boy. The gravity defying white hair moved with a mind of its own, glowing green eyes narrowed. The boy said something back and took a step into the wall. 

Vanishing.

“Please”, Tim gulped, “Rewind it”

She knew exactly what he meant. The paused moment of the boy on the screen had an all too familiar face. 

“Can you…”

“Already on it”, Barbra cut him off.  

It didn’t take long to change the white hair to black and pull it up next to a picture of one Damian Wayne. They were not identical, but that below brow glare they were all subjected to for the last three years was unmistakable. They have been subjected to their own assassin child for the last three years.

Tim took a sharp breath, “What the f-“

Sunday, Still morning- Danny 

“—Fudge sundaes!” Tuck exclaimed again angrily. 

“We will go another time, Tucker”, Sam reprimanded, “So box ghost raided their storage and all the yogurt melted!”

“No one does frozen yogurt fudge sundaes like Boo-gurt!” Tuck shot back, “And it’s the only place you will eat, you ultra-recyclo-vegetarian!”

Sam rolled her eyes, “Vegan, Foley! I’m vegan. And you could use more vegetables in your diet!” She sneered back, sticking her tongue out for good measure.

With Sam’s parents away for the weekend, they decided to use the Manson house to study. Most of the time they were discussing homework and the science projects they were working on. Once they had Sam started on her plants, it was hard to stop her ranting. Danny would not admit it under torture, but he did enjoy how passionate she got with her interests.

Tucker grumbled about how plants and vegetables aren’t everything before adding, “So, any more memory dreams?”

Danny dropped his pen, not expecting his best friend to bring it up, “Not much, there was a library but the books looked like they could be antiques? There were scrolls too”.

Tuck nodded, “That sounds… unbelievable? You sure it wasn’t a GZ vision of some sort?”

“Clockwork hinting he will put you to work?” Sam added, waving her pencil in the air as she rummaged her pencil case for an eraser

Danny couldn’t agree more, passing her his own, “I honestly think Nocturn is messing with me. My Amnesia clearing now that I have ghost powers? Feels a bit… predetermined”. 

Danny did tell them on the conversation he had with his family yesterday, the misunderstandings and worries they had.

“Wait, what do you mean by Non-adoptable?” Sam looked scandalised, “Your last name is Fenton!”

“It was a placeholder since they didn’t have a clue on who I am”, Danny explained, he could not remember the day he stumbled out of the forest and almost walked onto the road. “The social workers are saying my file is marked as a part of some investigation that’s preventing them from appealing”. He did physical air quotes on the word investigation. Danny winced a little from raising his arm, yesterday’s clash with Skulker left him bruised. 

His expression was instantly caught by Sam, “How bad?”

“Bruised”, Danny lifted his shirt slightly, showing the already fading purple mark that now looked a sickly yellow. The fact his ghost powders heal his mortal side is a great benefit of the condition. “Mom took a look at it”, Danny thought of how glad she was, worried that being an ectoplasmic being would cause his body to decay. The thought made him happy, even if he didn’t like seeing mom upset at seeing him injured. Or giving blood samples for analysis.

“But getting beat down by Skulker is not what is bothering you?”, Tuck pointed out.

Danny, feeling his ghost-core hum in his chest, “It’s the other thing I told you about”.

“What other thing?”

Danny exchanged glances with Tucker, they didn’t tell Sam anything just yet. Her go getter drive and strategic use of social media for environmental costs has actually gotten results. (Just no popularity). Knowing her, she would start a single woman social media campaign. 

“I think I have a twin?” Danny was not ashamed of saying it out loud, but he was fearful of the reactions of others. He had no evidence, just a hunch and a weird dream.

“Like, an identical twin?” Sam looked at him suspiciously, biting down on the end of her pencil.

“Danny said similar, no freckles and green eyes”, Tucker clarified.

“Hmm”, she grumbled and walked over to her bookshelf, where a stack of magazines lay. A mix of goth fashion magazines, plant care publications and charitable non profits. Sam grabbed a pile before sitting down before them. 

Sam looked through the stack before pulling out one and flipping Through the pages. Her face serious and concentrated. She slammed the magazine on the table and turned it to Danny.

“I didn’t think much of it when I saw it a month ago, there is a statistic that people have around seven people who look identical to them. Anyway…”

Sam was going on but all Danny could look at was the boy on the page: dressed in black jeans and a suit jacket, black hair was slicked back, eyes green and determined staining at the reader, a large dog sat to attention at his feet. It looked just like the boy in his dream, it only a little older. He was sat in an arm chair and looked all to serious. As he always does.

Always? 

“Damian Wayne never gives interviews, and even then they keep it strictly on topic”, Sam continued rambling, “this one was about his animal charities and environmental impact of Wayne enterprises”.

Words left Danny’s mouth involuntarily, “Brother, you will get wrinkles like grandfather”, his core hummed, happy and worried blending into one. He could almost hear a responce, something inside his mind voiced a loud, defiant Ttt.

“That… what language was that?” Tucker stood up. 

“What did you say?” Sam looked at him.

“I’m not sure” Danny addressed Tuck, then turned to Sam, “that he will get wrinkles? Like grandfather?”

“Bro”, Tucker grabbed the magazine and looked between the photo and Danny, “Are you saying Damian Thomas Wayne, the only confirmed biological son of Bruce Wayne is your twin?”

“I don’t know?”

Sunday evening- Damian 

With the base applied, Damian began adding the basic shading of his future work. A promise was a promise, and he had to fulfil it. He knew what father was thinking: Danyal had a normal life. And why should that stop them? Perhaps Danyal could visit? Or he could come to Gotham for university- they have great educational programs in scientific fields. Damian continued to through scenarios around in his mind, only wishing he had something better than a stepladder to use for this.

Still, he concentrated, building up the shades of blue, adding sunlike splotches of purple to make it feel far more vast. It will be his biggest painting and it will be perfect. Something inside him hummed, like a song with no words, a vibration that gave him delectation. Not just now, ever since he saw Danyal. Even Alfred the cat was drawn to him more, sitting on Damian’s lap as he researched and planned the layout. Damian thought of the day grandfather found Danyal focused on similar charts back in Nadra Parbat. It quickly turned into a lesson on navigation and survival, but one Danyal very much enjoyed.

“LITTLE D!” 

Richard’s voice was loud and pitched, surprising Damian as he noticed the door was not locked. A misstep. He is getting careless. What if Pennyworth (the cat) or Titus got in and consumed something he is not supposed to. 

Damian rushed down from the tall ceilings and lost his footing. Closing his eyes he prepared for impact, turning himself to minimise the fall. (He is not Drake and he will not give that miscreant even the satisfaction of a smug smirk and an “I told you so”). 

“Dami?” Richard knocked on the door again.

There was no crash. No sound of impact, only a small screech of a stepladder. The pain didn’t come, Damian was standing on the solid floor. His left leg between the two lower rungs of the ladder. But he is standing. Not processing what just happened, Damian pulled his leg out and marched across the plastic tarp that was spread across the floor and walls. (A requirement by Alfred the butler, not that Damian would not do it himself.)

“What is it, Grayson?” Damian called out, holding the door closed with his body, just in case his brother tried to get in. 

“You’ve been hailed up in there for hours, Dames, wanna take a break?”.

Damian looked up at his work. He could use a break, relax the tension in his arm and give the current layer time to dry. “Fine”, he replied, “Let me put away my… supplies”. Damian listened as Richard’s footsteps moved away. He covered his paints to prevent drying and closed the cans, opened a window for air circulation and took one last looks before locking the door behind him. How did he land on his feet? Did he black out? That was certainly a possibility that reminded him of the cybernetic spine implanted in his back.

It was something different. The comforting feeling he got just watching Danyal, he could feel himself laughing along to the jokes. Like they were in sync again. His mind was filled with memories. Most of the time they were trained individually, encouraging development and working on weaknesses. When they trained together, they looked out for each other, covered blind spots and assisted each other. 

Damian‘s reminiscing was briefly interrupted by Alfred the cat who once again demanded to be on his person. Damian stopped and allowed the feline to jump into his arms, then continue to climb and perch himself on Damian’s shoulder.

“I believe you have watched too many birds, Pennyworth”, Damian commented, as the cat rubbed his cheek into Damian’s hair.

Click.

Damian turned to Richard, who had his phone out and was actively taking pictures.

“Really, big bird?” Jason crossed his arms, looking quite displeased with Richard’s antics. Damian could almost feel some kind of energy wafting off Todd, a mix of amusement and irritation. He is more often than not, irritated by his newly legally alive status. 

“Oh come on! Selina would love this photo!”

Sunday Night Monday morning, 03:00- Jason

Managing to get way from societal obligations, Red hood strolled through crime alley in a more pleasant that normal mood. He had to get away from the manor. It has been a refuge as the paparazzi bombardment descended on him. Was he this happy to be legally alive? Yes. The Crime Lord gig was dying as he slowly transformed his illegal dealings into more legal ventures. And for that he required cash. Which Bruce was more than happy to provide. 

It’s been months and while Bruce is trying to act casual, he is practically beaming. Just that morning, Jason caught the man placing a new backpack for his college work on his room. Sneaking in super clumsily for someone with league training. And inside said bag? A brand new Waynetech laptop that had all of his files copied on and his music too. If Jason bet money on Barbra helping pull this off, he would be out of cash.

“Freaking mother hen”, he grumbled, itching to punch away his emotions. He already busted the faces of some lowlife drug dealers selling to kids and delivered them tied up with a bow to the closest police station.

Still, it wasn’t that bad today. Was being in the manor a good influence on him? He did almost hug Damian a couple of days ago. Something about the kid changed. Like a strange comforting aura practically radiated off him. Is this why the kid has an army of animals?

“Red hood, come in”, Barbra’s voice came into the helmet. There was a tone indicating that it was a private channel, no other bats were listening.

“What is it, Oracle?” Jason replied as he waved to the working girls.

“Can you drop by the clock tower?” 

“On my way”.

He cut through the city, swinging between buildings and stopped a convenience store robbery on his way. He arrived through the secret entrance and took the elevator. 

Barbra was on screens, coordinating the delivery of some rogue scarecrow goons to the police while guiding Cass and Damian away from a Condiment King fight. 

“There is plastic tarp in the back, lay it over the back seat”, she added before cutting the line. She sighed, “I don’t miss that”.

“Ah, the mustard stench”, Jason said, pulling off the helmet and shacking his head. “What did you want me to see?”

Barbra waved him over, “Remember that file Dark got? The one with all the ciphers?”

“Yeah, it is not even good ones, just many and laid on top of each other”,  from basic substitution to pigeon and anything else that could be tossed in. It looked less like a government file and more like the Riddler throwing in everything but the kitchen sink. 

“I got a key word. It broke through most and working back we figured out the rest”, Barbra replied, “Jay… it’s a bunch of kids. Kids that in one way or another have powers or skills…” She took a deep sigh, “Black Lighting’s daughters are on this list of potential metas”.

Jason could feel his rage rising, “I should have punched more”.

Barbra paused, “Sorry”.

“You didn’t tell B yet? Why?”

Barbra began talking about how the replacement found Bruce acting secretive. When isn’t he? And connected it to an instance with Damian taking off.

“It’s how we decoded the thing… Not that we wouldn’t have gotten it eventually, but it did cut down on time”, Babs looked a little tense. “Amity Park vigilante named Phantom”. She opened a file, a cropped photo of a boy with a strong resemblance to a certain baby bat, and his father. The kid had while hair and the glare of his father. Barbra continued, “I know your league memories are vague…”

“I never met Damian in the league, Babs. Ra’s kept the family pretty isolated unless they were in missions”.

“I figured”.

“But”, Jason took a shallow breath, “there is a title in the league called white ghost, what if there is a reason for that name”.

Gordon rolled back and forth a little, “But this kid looks like Bat-dad?”

“Oh, hundred percent, no question there. Probably a clone”, Jason groaned as he peeled off his domino. He looked at the image, “We should ask the demon brat”.

Chapter Text

Monday Night, September 12, 20XX- Danny 

Burning, the wooden floor is burning as the oil from the lamps is ignited, catching the wool carpets on fire. The gross smell of burning wool mixed with the smell of incense and aromatic oils. His nostrils burned as he ran to his weapon. A sword with a long curved blade. Stored by it’s side is it’s sister. His fingers wrapped around both hilts and he dashed out of the room.

He knows people are screaming and fighting. He kicks a man in the stomach once and he collapses to the floor, groaning. Or he should be. Danny can only hear ringing as he stuffed the sister sword his waistband and drew his own. Launching at a man that held an older woman by the throat. He knocked him down, blade to the neck. The woman drew a dagger and stabbed the man in the stomach. She pushed Danny away, redirecting him with a gentle, blood covered hand. He felt the liquid seep through his tunic, making it cling to his skin more than with just sweat.

The night sky littered with stars as he runs to the other room, his brother his shouting orders as he fights off attackers with a staff. Their eyes meet in a silent agreement as Danny fights his way towards him. His hand is on the hilt as he attempts to pass the weapon to his twin.

The ringing stops. Clashing of weapons, smell of iron permitting the gross mix of burnt wool and incense.

“Brother”, those emerald green eyes are focused on him before travelling down. Danny follows. They are pierced through, together in a single motion. A sword through both of them.

The cowards wore masks and armour while attacking their home , the leader studied them. The man gloated,“Well well, both of R̶̙̹͕͚̒̑́̿a̸̡̪̘̬̎̓̀͝’̴̳̹̃s̸͔̩̪͍̑̋̍ ̸̖̤͊͜ͅA̵̘̹̝͝l̸̡̪̅̊̈͛͜ ̷̹̦̝̆͆̅͝G̶͇͎͈̹̊͆͊̓h̴̢̜̿̾u̴̼̒l̶̹̙̒̇̀͝’̶͚͕̥̜͐͌ŝ̸͙̣̮s precious grandsons on one skewer”.  He adjusted his grip, Danny and Damian held neutral inspections despite the agonising pain that brief motion causes them. “How about we roast you in the flames… ugh…”

Behind the man, the same old woman from before was now wielding double  daggers. In quick recurrent motion, she stabbed the leader and lead charge of servants who descended on the invaders. They formed a perimeter around them, protection. Yet no one tried to touch them.

Danny knew it was logical. Removing the blade would agitate the wound, cause them both to bleed out. Not that they were not bleeding already. Danny could feel himself shacking as his breathing accelerated, dizzy from blood loss when a hand dragged through his hair.  

His brother was trying to sooth him as they were bleeding out, colour draining from his face. “Danyal”, Damian whispered, “I’m here”.

“Danny?” 

Danny is being shaken awake, he blinked several times before opening his eyes. Jazz is standing over him, the living room TV blaring some samurai film with sounds of metal crashing and grunts filling the dim space. “Wha…”

“You were groaning and shaking”, Jazz looked troubled. Her hands resting softly on his shoulder. “A nightmare?”

Danny could still smell the burning, vivid and nauseating. “Not sure, lots of fighting”.

Jazz grimaced for a split second before hiding her expression, “Could be stress. The movie probably didn’t help”.

“Mmm”. It was a possibility, not to mention after seeing the photo- the twin in his dream seems to resemble Damian Wayne. However, the name he used. He didn’t call him Daniel, a name that made Danny feel detached. Danyal sounded right, pleasant and familiar. How much of it all was real and how much was his mind making up? The sword was more Japanese than Middle Eastern, unlike the rest of the setting in his dream. 

“Listen, Danny, mom and dad said your blood isn’t safe to send for testing. With the ectoplasm is seeping in”, she sighed, “But your DNA is very much human. Something about low ecto presence hiding the presence of altered genes”. With physical force, Jazz shuffled Danny over and took a seat next to him on the couch, “If you want to send your DNA to some of those database sites to start searching for your bio family, your saliva will pass the checks with no alerts, the trace there is almost identical to everyone else in Amity”.

He debated for a minute, “What if we send a request to someone… directly?”

“You”, he could see the debate behind her eyes, the tactful choice of words, “Danny, did you remember them?”

He shook his head, “I’m not even sure what colour my mama’s hair is”. The word rolls off his younger in a slight accent, the emotion of yearning for… what?

“People dye their hair, Danny”. She didn’t let it go, “But you have something”.

Well, now or never. Jazz will probably think he is delusional. Getting his backpack from the other side of the couch, Danny got out Sam’s magazine with a sticky note marking which page to turn to. He flipped it open and gave it to his sister.

“I told Sam and she pulled out this saying she did see some resemblance”.

Jazz  glanced between the article and Danny, stood up and turned on the overhead lights. Or she tried to, “Oops!” She flipped the security system switch back off and turned on the lights. 

“So bright”, Danny covered his face with both his arms.

“Show me your face so I can compare!”

He obliged. 

“I mean… how did no one see this before?” Her eyebrows furrowed, “Celebrity gossip loves the Wayne family, with all the adopted kid, the recent return of the second eldest. Not to mention the good reputation Wayne Enterprises has world wide”.

“How do you know celebrity gossip?”

Grabbing a couch cushion, Jazz launched it in his face. “I do have friends and classmates who love to talk about them!” She straightened herself and adjusted her headband before continuing, “and if you are related to one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted kids, it could be a good place to start”.

That confirmed to Danny that Jazz usually only looked at surface level at non academic things, not looking at the gossip and chatter. And if she did, she preferred interviews, reading between the lines to try and gage who they are and how much the interviewee is keeping private. She already started reading Damian’s.

“Umm, Jazz?”  He clapped his hands together, took a deep breath and pointed at her, “Damian is the only confirmed biological child of the family”.

“Oh…” 

“It sounds insane“- Danny stood up- “what am I supposed to do? Email Wayne enterprises? Tell them- hey! I’m the other bio kid of your owner! What proof do…” Danny stopped, his hand going under his shirt and feeling around his chest, his fingers tracing a faint raising of skin. He tried to reach the back, but decided to spare Jazz the body horror and lifted his shirt. “Can you check my back?”

Jazz raised an eyebrow but obliged, “What am I looking for exactly?”

“The other side of this”- he pointed at the mark on his chest- “It should be…”

“There is a mark”, Jazz took a step back, “it’s a through-and-through”.

Her silence worried Danny as he put his T-shirt back on,  “What?”

“You gave so many scars. Why that one?”

“Because Damian should have a matching one”.

Tuesday night, September 13, 20XX- Jason Todd 

The brat is right there, patrolling crime alley with him. Something about changing the image of Crime Alley and all that. They debated bringing back Park Row, however, the reactions of locals would be less than favourable. So they stuck him with babysitting duties. Jason thought it will be a long long night. Except,  Robin acted a little different. It was subtle at first, less insults for one. He didn’t react to Dickwing’s jokes, but he did not dismiss them either

Jason observed as Damian approached some teens with spray paint, working on a mural. A section of the street that got the nickname of Artist’s corner as it became a popular place for street art. Robin began discussing how to approach a work with a limited colours, asking how they achieved sharp lines. 

“Oracle, you are seeing this?” Jason asked over the communicator, more than glad that his helmet hid his wide eyed shock. He wanted to hug the little demon, to be close. Something the family noticed which is why they are paired together.

Barbie replied in the distorted Oracle voice, “Is he… standing on some guys shoulder with spray paint?”

He could hear the replacement scrambling to see in the background. (Tim is still grounded despite no longer needing crutches). 

“I am not showing him a photo of a clone, O”, Jason whispered, watching Damian run back and then approach the teens again to say something. “We should gather more evidence”.

Timtams was grumbling in the background as Hood cut the connection. He watched Robin approach him.

“I told them O would appreciate their work”, Robin added.

“Cut off your feed too?”

“If Oracle did observe anything, it would be at a limited angle”, the kid looked smug when their quiet night got interrupted by an alert.

“Damnit!” Jason whistled loud to get the artists’ attention. “There’s a break out! Wrap it up!”

They moved quickly, scrambling to get out. While crime alley was improving? Only vigilantes patrolled here, and some criminals took the lack of police as a challenge. Plus, the only ‘bat’ to use guns is Red Hood, who has been far less lethal.

“Shit!” One teen began stuffing cans of paint in a duffel.

“Thank you Hood!” The other began dragging his friend away.

Red hood and Robin took off in the direction of some D-list Arkham escapees. Jason gladly broke some bones. He did shoot one guy in the leg. Really improved his moved.

Wednesday afternoon, September 14, 20XX- Bruce Wayne 

When the email appeared in his inbox, Bruce felt a bit relieved. He wasn’t dropping in on a happy family to take away their son. They were reaching out to him. The message spoke of how wonderful Danny was and how they only hoped to find any connection to his biological family. While eloquently written, the whole message had an undertone of desperation and worry. 

A plea.

What were Drs Fenton so terrified of? From his brief look into it, their research was quite solid for a science in it’s infancy. Though they stopped actively publishing since last year. Bruce wondered if perhaps they could identify why Deadman was not visible to people while the ghosts in their research are. 

Bruce’s contemplation ended when he  heard the faint stomping coming from the other home office. Looking at email, it was redirected to his mailbox by the legal team, among other recipients was Tim. The only other person home today. 

“THEY ARE MULTIPLYING!” He opened the door with his elbow as his right hand was holding a phone. The seventeen year old huffed, his left arm holding a laptop and folder in it as he looked at Bruce, “You knew?!” A tone of betrayal and shock audible, he continued, “If you knew. Why did you have Babs and I investigating the Dark File? You already knew about Amity! Figuring out Phantom should have been a breeze!”

Bruce looked up at his son. An expression Tim instantly caught on to.

“Wait”, Tim read his face again, “You don’t recognise the name Phantom, do you?”

Bruce always felt more relaxed around his family, they have learned to read his micro expressions. No need to act exaggerated like he does as his public persona. 

Tim set fine his laptop and continued with the  video call: “Babs! It was not a test! He has no idea!”

Test? Why would they think it was a test? Was something up with the information? A prank of some sort? Bruce spiralled silently, trying to see if anything he had preplanned and filed away as a good idea may have archived and given them a false impression of what was happening. The dark file was simply tedious and Tim had to be occupied while recovering or Red Robin would be roaming the streets on crutches.

“Are you sure he isn’t acting?” Barbra sounds fed up, borderline angry.

Now that Bruce thinks about it, Tim was obeying the bed rest a little better than normal. Minus the Amount of coffee he consumed. 

“Look at his FACE”.  The phone stopped almost touching the tip of his nose. “I’m calling Jason!”

“Wait”, Bruce spoke up. “Can I see what you found?”

Tim handed over the laptop, showing the file of a young vigilante operating alone in Amity park. He compared the facial structure to the photos of Daniel Fenton. An exact match.

“I need to process this” he reluctantly admits. A turn like this was unexpected, not to mention how it might affect Damian.

He looks up at Tim, standing cross armed with Barbara on the line in the same pose.

“Please?”

Silence spread as the conversation stalled.

Barbra whispers, “I have that recorded, Tim. Can you watch that? Did B say please?”

“Send it to Jay” he huffed, “we need to rule out a mass hallucination scenario”.

Same time- Danny

Tucker and Sam looked like they were about to have an aneurysm with the way they were looking at him. They shuffled to their next class quietly, whispering among themselves.

“An email? You sent an email?” Sam was gob smacked, for once she had connections to use, “I told you about the rich people circles and how they interact”.

“Mom and dad thought it would be better that way”, Danny replied.

“Please tell me you read it. Danny, with how bad your parents are at communicating clearly…”

Danny stopped Tuck there, “Mom and dad gave Jazz the basic outlines and she wrote the whole thing”.

“Oh! Thank you Ancients!” 

They were still avoiding the metaphorical elephant in the room- the reason to reach out. Tucker spent last week with Tecnus analysing the blueprints his parents drew off memory. The GIW had created a way to control ghosts. A gaudy and massive collar to be placed on the subject’s victim’s neck. 

They have issued warnings for the infinite realms, including having Ember preform songs to warn of the potential danger. Many were more worried about one single issue.

Danny himself.

More specifically- the Great One, King Phantom. Their King was not safe to hide in the vastness of the infinite realms. He was still mortal, a being of flesh who could be easily captured. While the title is currently ceremonial, the power it carried over other ecto-beings is…

“You need to get out of Amity, Danny, remember what happened with Freakshow?” 

He had to remind him! Great! Not like Danny didn’t have scary nightmares already, the few good dreams would now be populated by his worst circus experience ever. 

The glare Danny was giving lead Tucker to raise his arms in self defence, “Dude!”

“Danny, eyes”, Sam grumbled through her teeth as she entered the classroom.

Thursday afternoon, September 15, 20XX- Dick Grayson

A family meeting. Great. Either Bruce and Selina are legally tying the knot (PLEASE, JUST DO IT ALREADY) or one of his siblings secretly got married or is having/had a child. Honestly, anything is impossible in this family. Dick hoped it was some misunderstanding when he took a seat with his legs crossed, occupying a section of the sofa to have enough reach and grab his siblings. 

They were in the most private of the family rooms for Wayne manor- the nicknamed game room. A massive TV, collection of game consoles from the retro to the newest ones. Beanbag chairs, Pillows, cushions and throw blankets that would not survive Alfred’s eye for detail in any other room. It was a safe haven of sorts, a place to retreat to. Only close family friends were allowed a rare glimpse.

Everyone took their seats, Dick’s cuddle victims for today are Cass (willingly) and Duke (lack of experience plus weariness from the day shift). He was hoping to snag their youngest too.

Damian walked in later.And was first to speak as he turned on the TV, leaving a blank slide first. “I have kept something from all of you”, he began, looking straight ahead but. Not looking at anyone in particular.

Tim scoffed at the notion, receiving a poke from Cass. Her expression strict and focused. She turned back to Damian and gave an encouraging nod.

 “When I was seven, there was an attack on the compound, many died, including myself and my… twin brother”.

“Twin?” Steph announced out loud as she dropped off the armrest she was sitting on. Quickly recovering by dragging over a bean bag and plopping onto it.

“Stephanie, please, let him speak”, Bruce interrupted before the family could divulge into chaos. His own body language is relaxed, shoulders lowered, an attempt to look more inviting but not fake like his public persona.

Damian took a deep breath, “We were dead for several days before grandfather gave permission to use the pits. Except… Danyal’s body sank and never emerged”.

Richard went static, his eyes carefully studying the face of his little brother. Seven. That was younger than when he lost his parents. The aggression that experience drove him too. 

Loud a cracking of knuckles, Jason going finger by finger on each of his own hands. His brow furrowed, “Go on”.

“Last week, I found an article on purple-back gorillas that referenced a publication in a small town newspaper. The image made me suspect there may be a clone living  a normal life. However, when I checked I discovered not a clone but Danyal himself”. He lifted his hand and turned on the projector, showing a black and white photo of two teens and a CPS file listing a Daniel James Fenton. “According to his records, he has amnesia…”

Cass raised her hand straight up to grab attention before signing: how know not clone? 

Bruce opened up his hand, letting Damian pass the remote, “This was sent to Wayne Enterprises yesterday”.

Dick’s eyes scanned the email as well as his siblings for reactions. Most were just surprised, reading between the lines like Bruce taught them. Damian ran off. Richard knew he should follow him, but he had to see the reason why he left first.

Tim read out loud a section from “Danny” himself: “I have brief memories, flashes, but I think you have a matching scar to one of mine. Approximately between the fourth and fifth rib up on the left side of your body and a matching one on the back…”

Dick good up and left for the hallway. It was easy to find Damian as he ran into the nearest bathroom and took off his shirt, trying to see his back. Richard watched the thirteen year old smile at the scar. One amongst so many that small body was littered in. Their look drew attention, leading Damian to even wear swim shirts whenever the pool was involved.

“Hey, Dames, you took off”, Dick announced, knocking softly on the wood door frame. The fact that the scar had a match meant it was a through-and-through.

“I simply had to verify, Richard”.

He wasn’t demoted to Grayson yet, good. He asked- “But you seem so sure already?”

The teen spoke, “I believe you have used the term ‘gut feeling’ in the past?” He placed his hand on his chest, “When I saw him, it felt… right”.

They walked back into the room. Everyone was looking at the screen, which now had candid photos of Danny, the photos attached to the email and Danny with white hair and Lazarus green eyes.

“This is what Tim and Barbra have found on the hard drive when they retrieved the artefact from the vault. It contains list of what we know see are children who ether possess a meta gene or other abilities that would make them… potential assets”.

Bruce didn’t say living weapons, but the sentiment was implied. The US government was keeping track of young super-powered individuals. Not that this development wasn’t possible. As secretive as the superhero community is, with advanced genetic testing- some were bound to be tracked.

“I’m afraid some of those on the list are related to members of the Justice league, luckily not tying their civilian identities in this file. We do not know if there are further banks of data and the whole document will require further analysis”, Bruce switched slides pulling a profile labeled Phantom.

“It seems they have not been able to connect Danyal’s vigilante identity with his civilian one”, Barbra took over, “What I do want all of us to look at is the classification of Phantom as an ecto-entity. Non-human and therefore non sentient”.

Dick grabbed Dami’s shoulders on instinct, holding the boy down in a tight hug, “Babs, we can read the files ourselves. What is bothering you?”

With a glare, Oracle continued, “His powers are extensive which is strange considering neither Bruce or Thalia are Meta gene carriers. We might have a new development in how people can get powers… Dying”.

“Wait, Barbie, hold up, you mean near death experiences, right? That is a common trigger for the activation of the meta gene?” Jason voiced out loud.

“Funny hearing that from you, Jason”, Tim tried to take the remote from Barbra but had no luck, “Your enhanced strength, ring a bell?” 

Before anyone could reply, Babs switched slides, highlighting several powers Phantom possessed: Super-strength, Flight, durability and speed. 

Steph stood up: “Those are the powers Demon brat got when he was resurrected!”

Chapter Text

Friday morning, September 16, 20XX- Dr Jack Fenton

It was much faster than he thought. Just on Wednesday they sent the email, thinking it would be a couple of weeks. He did not expect Ida Flores, their assigned social worker, to call and request Danny to come to the office. A nerve wrecking experience to sit in the car as a get away driver in case something happens. Jack watched the doors like a hawk, hand hovering over the ignition key, his comic book not interesting him at all. He simply held it in his hand, pages scrunched from his tight grip. 

The doors opened and Danny stepped out, followed by Maddie who stuffed something in her purse before guiding Danny to the car. 

“Hey, Dann-o. How was it?” Jack asked as his wife closed the door. 

Danny put in his seatbelt, tugging a couple of times to check that it is secure: “I got a free toothbrush”.

Jack looked at his son blankly until Maddie took her seat, saying: “They made him brush his teeth before spitting in the tube”. She took off her jacket, leaving her in a plain T-shirt and mom jeans, folding the garment on her lap she nodded signalling for them to get going. “A Wayne layer and someone from their genetics lab came to take the sample”, she searched something on her phone, “aren’t their labs the fastest at…”

“They can run comparative DNA tests at the fastest rates in the country among commercial testing, even with additional checks it takes them less than fourty eight hours…” Danny grumbled, “and that is only due to high demand and equipment maintenance”. His arms are folded and he sank into his seat, “At least I got to skip Lit”.

“Danny, Sweetie”, Madeline spoke, glancing at the rear view mirror to meet the teen’s gaze, “You like books and modern literature. What don’t you like about English literature as a subject?”

Danny only grumbled to himself. No clear answer, just incoherent grumbles.

“Danny, please don’t phase through the seat”, Jack chided the kid as he took a sharp turn.

“Slow down, dear. This is a school zone” . 

They dropped Danny off, handing him a note from the office explaining his absence. 

Jack sighed, eyes lingering on the closed school door, “We are really doing this”. He has to reassure himself, he had to think of what they saw. The collars. Those horrible items. Their function. Sending ghosts back into the zone or finding ways to calm them was one thing, to enslave them is… wrong.

“I’ve blown up foreign bases before, honey”, his wife mutters, “I just don’t want my children to grow up with the stigma of being related to terrorists”.

Jack tapped the steering wheel before pressing the gas. He had to agree. They had to fight this not as soldiers, but as scientists, as researchers and as parents.

“We still have our life on the road plan”, he added, “Though I don’t think Jazzy pants will like that very much”.

“Yes”, Maddie looked uncomfortable, “Her college prospects and social circle are important”. She smiled, sweetly, “But we did have that plan of studying every ghost sighting and gathering reading before we were expecting”.

The fond days of planning to be traveling ghost researchers, building inventions in the back of their car and roaming the country. Jack thought about it: “Maybe when the kids move out?”

Eight hours later- Jazz  

Opening the doors of the record store, Jazz followed her friends in. She agreed to go as long as they go check out stationary later. While Nat and Jen dove for their respective sections, Jazz browsed the new releases. Few were interesting and a whole ghost themed stand was waiting for any tourists.

“Insufferable!” The voice had an eco to it, but was quite melodic, familiar.

A chill traveled down her spine. A normal sensation in Amity, long before ghost sightings became as common as they are now. Jazz turned her head to look.

“Ember”, she uttered to herself.

The ghost teen floated to her, arms crossed, guitar case strapped to her back. “I get people listen to a lot of things, but this is just too… peppy? Girly?” She rolled her eyes, “Ugh! Just not to my liking”. She complained, casing Red Velvet’s Russian Roulette to glitch out on the sound system. She continued floating, reaching the rock and matel section.

Jazz took a couple of careful steps towards the counter, “Excuse me”.

The shop keeper looked up, “Can I help you?” Her eyes caught the ghost, “Ooooh, that’s why the sound system is glitching”.

“You are not surprised?” Jazz blinks, looking at the young woman.

The blonde, who’s tag says Alison, pulls a scrunchie off her hand, putting her hair in a ponytail, “Nah! She’s been a regular visitor for the past year. Mostly here, the music supplies store and any stage. She gives good guitar tips too”. Alison headed for the computer and began scrolling, “Though it is better to have music she likes on”.

“I trust you on that”, Jazz noticed that Ember was only pretending to flip through CDs, her glowing eyes were following Jazz. If she is peaceful, maybe she wanted to talk? Taking her chances, Jazz approached the flame haired musician.

“Jazz, right?” Ember turned around and leaned on the shelf, her guitar case phasing through it with ease, “I heard that baby pop is trying to leave town?”

Just then, the music switched, the screens changed from the deals and assorted clips to a recording of a concert, flames bursting on stage. Jazz could make out PA PA PAPAYA growled over the speakers, loud enough for their conversation to not be heard. 

“Yes”, Jazz confirmed, “We… we might have found his real family”.

Ember raised an eyebrow, “Let me tell you as a ghost who remembers her living family- blood ain’t always what it cracks out to be”. Her foot tapped along to the music, “You will always be his family, he loves you guys. Though… there were two…”  Ember stood up straight, biting her lower lip in regret, “I shouldn’t have said that”. On her shoulder was a sticky note in glowing neon. She snatched it off herself, read it twice and then stuffed it in her mouth.

“What do you mean by two?”

They looked at each other awkwardly.

Ember opened her mouth to say something before shaking her head, “Just keep our king safe? Please?” She didn’t wait for confirmation, floating backwards through stands to wards the counter, chatting with the cashier on the music and then phasing through the wall behind her.

The song ended and the regular playlist was back on.

“You just let her hang out?” Jazz asked as her friends began heading to the cash register.

“Ember? Yeah, she pulls the tourists in”, Alison replied, “So management likes her hanging around. I like seeing what she might listen to”.

“Like that… um… rock song?”

Alison smiled, “That’s the Japanese Metal, their lyrics are cute when you look them up”. She leans over the counter, “I’ve been trying different things to see what McLain might like, have a whole spreadsheet on it”.

Jenifer and Natasha checked out, waving the friendly cashier bye as they left.

Wait, Jazz thought to herself, Did Ember call Danny- King?

Friday Night- Bruce Wayne Batman

Bruce Batman watched his colleagues read sections of the file he highlighted for specific individuals as he walked through the general area. Different groups were huddled at different areas. It was obvious just how rarely some members of Dark have interacted with the main Justice League when Superman had to put out Constantine’s cigarette with his bear hands. A brief ‘Sorry, mate’, was loud in the silence of focused reading. The Flashes read their part quickly while scarfing down their food, then began searching through the files at super-speed. Diana rushed her stainless steel tumbler, leaving it a mangled mess on the table.

“WHAT?” The silence was interrupted as the second green lantern, John Stewart, stood up from the table next to the flash, “How did they know?”

“So you are aware of”, Hal Jordan, designation Green lantern one, looked at his tablet, “Another kid green lantern? Really?”

“How did a boy even get a ring?” The fourth Green lantern, Jessica Cruz asked.

Bruce really wanted to leave then, but he had to warn them, they were all in situations similar to his own. Their children in their care or children they knew were on a government tracked list.

“I believe we all need to take into account the new information”, Batman speaks, giving the lanterns a look he usually has to use on his kids. Unlike his kids, the lanterns all take their seats.  “Please spread the information to those who are not present”.

His communication device went off. Bruce quickly pulled up the results- mostly a formality. He also could not be sure how exact they will be from any DNA alterations his son experienced. Most DNA tests simply increased the error margin to account for the possibility. But not Wayne Enterprises, and certainly not the bat-computer. 

He could hear a quiet: “What do you think Spooky is looking at?”- from Hal leaning over to the elder Flash. 

“Hhhm”, Batman voiced.

“That is Batman for ‘none of your business’”, Wally, the younger Flash clarified, proceeding to stuff his face with another burrito. 

“You speak Bat?” A newer leaguer asked.

“Nightwing taught me the basics”.

The paternity part was handled by WE biotech, mostly a formality. The Batcompute test did not highlight any of the previously known meta markers, it identified some differences to his own and Thalia’s DNA. There was also a message from Red Robin: Ran additional testing, B. Had a hunch. The other file contained an analysis of Damian’s DNA. Reading the results, Bruce could not understand. Analysis showed it stopped matching his previous samples. In fact, there were now some abnormalities present. Abnormalities similar to those of Danyal. 

Was there an equipment issue? Perhaps calibrations have been faulty. 

Unlikely, Red Robin and Oracle took pride in ensuring the state of the art equipment exceeded all possibilities and was fool proof at the very least.

He looked around the room, watching small arguments break out in areas. The Dark Mages looking over files, identifying who is a magic user and who isn’t before filing them away. Eventually they reached Phantom, which was now heavily redacted by Oracle.

“Oi, Bats! What gives?”  Constantine lifted the tablet in the air, “We got you the bloody hard drive and now you are locking us out?”

The audio system came to life, a robotic voice over the speaker: “A temporary lock is placed until the investigation is complete, you will beh informers on the outcome”.

He will need to thank Oracle for the save. Does she need anything? Groceries? A new refrigerator? Maybe both? Alfred should know.

Sunday, September 16, 20XX- Stephanie Brown

They watched Dick strut around in his Batman armour, going on a monologue about justice while imitating Bruce. Jason groaned, leaning back in the BatChair as he loaded his rubber bullets in every pocket of his cargo pants.

“We are using today to have Batman and Bruce Wayne appear at the same place?” She asked, putting on her gloves and stashing a couple of glitter bombs among her smoke bomb stash. 

“Yes, Father said it will be good to build cover”, Damian spoke, dressed in the Robin red, yellow and green. 

The screen switched, pulling up a daytime photo of the massive mural Damian (according to Jason) helped some teens with. At the bottom center was a crystal ball containing bats and birds coloured in as Gotham vigilantes. Hovering over it is a ghostly figure in greys and electric purples0. The body made of smoke and circuitry, face hidden in the shadows of a hood.

“Gordon”, the brat grumbled, red ears visible without his own hood.

“This will be the screen saver until I saw so”, Babs announced over the audio system. “I can’t believe publications outside Gotham covered it”.

“Mostly cyber security concerns”, Steph cleared her throat, putting on her best mocking news anchor impression: “What will happen to our privacy and social standing if hackers such as this ‘Oracle’ are getting praise for the general public? How will that affect our social security!”

They all laughed about it, with Jason adding: “And then white hat hackers outed that he is cheating on his wife with five women and is late on child support, bastard”.

“Speaking of cover”, Steph turned to Damian, who was hiding yet another blade in his uniform, “you and B got the backstory down?”

“Tt, yes, Brown, we have discussed the details multiple times”.

“And how do you feel about it?”

Damian didn’t spare them a look, simply slammed his locker door and ran towards the stairs, leading to the lower levels where his pet Asian dragon resided. 

“Say hi to Mr Noodle for me!” Dick shouted.

“HIS NAME IS RYUJIN!”

“YEAH!”, still in his Batman best he added, “he calls him Noodle Ryujin-san”.

They collectively giggled at the reveal, with Babs adding: “We can’t call him Baby Bat any more, can we? With Danny being younger?”

“New nicknames for the twins is officially a completion”, Jason huffed, “Points for originally and style will be decided during live voting next family game night”.

Monday, September 18, 20XX- Danny 

The results came back on Saturday. Probably pushed the testing to the front of the line for their owner. A match. Danny is indeed a Wayne. Fraternal twin of Damian Wayne. According to the email he received, his birth name is Danyal and he “went missing, presumed dead” when he was seven during a fire. The details are vague, but according to Sam- this is normal rich people stuff. Tuck added the potential of hackers or information leaks that would go into extortion. (And Danny didn’t want a media circus, even if it would give him more protection according to Jazz).

Today, he was waiting on the couch,  eyes transfixed on the front door, using his improved hearing for the car to pull up. There was movement, two cars, the second one much newer judging by the smoothness of sound.

“Danny, sweetheart”, Maddie spoke softly, “You should…”

Danny could feel his core hum, vibrating and the revving like the engine of a motorcycle. It began to pull him to the door. He approached, wanting to open right away, but his mind told him to wait, something about politeness and manners clawing at the back of his mind. 

The door bell rang. Miss Flores smiled at him, before looking behind her to the edge of the driveway. The parked car is am expensive rental,  it because of the brand, but because of its pristine condition. Next to it, stood a man wearing a thin overcoat, black turtle neck and a dark jeans paired with some slides. Just a little shorter than Dad, broad shouldered and clearly fit. (At least he is not dressed like a fruit loop.) Danny’s eyes wonder to the figure next to him: jeans, high top sneakers and a t-shirt under a loose blazer. They look about the same height, but Danny had to check for himself. 

His core though, it continued to power up, producing ectoplasm in growing quantities. He could not hear what Ida said as he walked around her. Were people calling his name? Maybe? He didn’t care, he walked quickly and was met with an equally fast pace from Damian. 

He pulled the boy into a tight hug, holding him close, barely containing his strength. Damian didn’t resist, didn’t push back. His hand hovered for a little while. Then his fingers dragged through Danny’s hair, massaging his scalp. He felt right, comfortable and that he should never let Damian go.

“I am glad I get to keep my promises, brother”, Damian muttered in his hair, in the same dialect he hears in him memories. 

As his own core hummed, there was a reply from within Damian. A hum. A melody with no words at all. A pleased and joyous hum, not quite as loud as his own was answering back.

Huh.  Why does Damian…

“Danny?” 

Damian  

Damian could feel the small scar Danyal inflicted on himself at the tip of his finger. Judging from the force he is applying, his brother is holding back. While Richard’s hugs were nice, they were always a reminder of hugs Damian could not experience again. The hugs he got from Danyal. 

He examined his brother, Danyal did not have the same muscle mass as him. Was it lack of training or their genetic differences showing themselves now that they are beginning to mature? Still, it felt like a piece of a puzzle was back in place. They were never co dependant, but it was nice to have a confidant, a friend who knew you so well. 

“Danny?”

Who dares call his brother by that insolent Nickname!

Damian looked up to see bright turquoise eyes, eyes that Jason’s sometimes drifted into the shade off. Her bright ginger hair was put away neatly in a headband and her choice of clothing bordered more on practical than fashionable. He made profiles on the family that housed and took care of his brother. Whether it was out of gratitude or suspicion was negligible. Those photos could not quite capture the glow in her eyes, something borderline supernatural. 

Danyal began to pull away and Damian felt weak. 

“Well, you two sure missed each other”, the social worker Ida said, smiling as she approached.

“Danyal has always favoured physical contact as a form of bonding”, Damian answered. Looking up he noticed a smile on Father’s face. A genuine smile, none of that Public Reations Persona that made him look like a bumbling idiot. 

“Um, hi?” His brother sounded awkward and worried. His does strangely wide as he looked at their father. He pulled himself away, glancing between Damian and Bruce. “You do take more after baba”.

Damian’s heart almost stopped. That is what they called him when they wondered who their father was. A term that stayed a private secret to him. Damian stopped using those types terms for his parents, their sweet and kind meaning died with Danyal. We have a mama, who do you think our baba is? Was a speculation topic for late sleepless nights, when their muscles were sore from training and their heads were bursting with information the tutors crammed in. When they finally asked their mother- she used the term father. Still, among themselves, they called him baba.

Damian clung to Mama for about year after he emerged from the pit, but she was always angry and sad. Eventually, Damian switched to mother and mother seemed calmer. Was it because there was one less reminder? Was grief easier to handle after a year? Perhaps he will get to ask her now.

He made up his mind to call him father when mother showed him video of Bruce Wayne slipping away from an even only to return in gear and begin to fight. When mother told him that that is his father, Damian’s mind made a choice. Baba was a word he could only use with Danyal. When the man bats brought the Batman down to his knees and mother showed him his father’s face up close- he saw those blue eyes. As vast as the sky that Danyal wished to learn about.

“I have been told I resemble father”, Damian responded, hinting at the choice of words, “But you have gotten his eye colour, have you not?”

They were eventually guided inside the house, with Father and the Fentons talking to the social worker. Damian and Danyal were bearded upstairs by Jasmine Fenton. 

The room was the same as Damian observed from the window, only now he could see the glow in the dark stars plastered in the ceiling with no rhyme or reason. Models of rockets strewn about the table and a chaos in cleanliness that brought up memories of having to pick up after his little brother. He smirked to himself- finally, he is not the baby of the family. The title never felt like his, it should have always been Danyal’s.

After introductions and discussing interests, Jasmine asked, “So, any embracing stories about Da… Danyal you can share?” Her smile reminded Damian of the way Gordon would bait other bats and birds to reveal compromising information.

“You can still call me Danny”, Danyal turned red.

Damian felt the exhilaration, a smirk creeping on his face,  “You mean how he tripped me, resulting in a bandaged head and an eventual scar? The one that upset him so much when we didn’t match he tripped himself on purpose?”

Jasmine’s mouth hung open for a moment, “Prove it”.

Damian parted the hair above his left ear, showing a his scar. Danyal reached for his left ear.

“Your right, Brother”.

“Really?”

“You did not achieve the correct trajectory mid fall”.

Partying his hair revealed the similar scar.

“So how did you… get the others?” Jasmine continued in a half whisper.

Damian ran through the rehearsed answers he developed with his siblings and father- a back story of sorts. Something to explain why Damian only came to the United States at age ten, the vague details about how Danyal went ‘missing’. Just enough to not lead their grandfather back to this small town. He was about to say it when something was stuck on his mouth. 

He peeled the bright sticky note off, catching the wide eyed stares of Jasmine and Danyal as he read the note out loud: “I told you, you will meet again. See Frostbite about your core. CW”.

Chapter Text

Monday, September 18, 20XX- Bruce Wayne

A nice normal suburban house on the inside, with neon lights on the outside. That is also zoned for a basement lab and an airship take off strip. The walls were clean, but there were several scuff marks, folds in cushions- the house was very lived in. Not that Bruce had a leg to stand on- his house has access to a cave systems and enough weapons to arm a small militia. 

As Ida took them through the documentation, he saw the fluctuating emotions on faces of the Fentons. They signed, but the look in their eyes, the sadness. Bruce wondered if he looked like that when the social workers tried to take Dick away?

“Excuse me”, he began, knowing he is about to bare his heart to literal strangers. He rarely showed vulnerability to his friends, his family knew him well enough to read subtle signs. He didn’t share willingly, but now was a good time to do so. Was it to build his credibility and cover? Perhaps. A majority is still the truth, it is easier to speak half truths than complete fabrications.  “I know what this is like, I have been and still am a foster parent. I don’t want Danyal to lose his connection to you at all. We are a couple of states away, but holidays and road trips can be arranged”.

Some tension left Dr Jack Fenton’s shoulders. The man is taller (Bruce estimates 6’6) than Jason who stands at 6’4. Bruce was no small man, but Jack’s sheer size made him feel small. Is this why Dick aways climbing things? (He feels like should climb something after this).

“And…”, Bruce put on a sorrowful expression, “You have known Danyal longer than I have known of Damian”.

Eyes were focused on him now. Madeline raised both eyebrows, her fists clenched and posture straightened. 

“I… may I ask how?” Miss Flores spoke, pen out and paper to take notes. 

At least she is being obvious. 

“I ran into Damian and his mother. They were on a trip to the US. Damian was eight. Now, I think she was still grieving, keeping Damian close. T… She travelled for work a lot”, he pretended to miss-speak, almost spilling the name.  It was the basics of a story to cover the short period Damian was likely sighted at Wayne manor back then. “She gave me full custody when he was almost ten, something about ‘not being safe’ back home”.

Dr Madeline Fenton sat up: “Have you been in contact with the mother? Since we got in touch?”

“We have been reaching out, she often works in quite remote regions with bad connection”, Bruce gave a sheepish smile, working to sell the backstory they built. “Which was probably why the boys lived most of their time with their grandfather”.

Madeline Fenton had a knowing look, “I take it this man is very into martial arts?”

Bruce nodded, rubbing his neck. While his ears listened to quiet creeping footsteps heading for the kitchen. Three sets, two extremely quiet assassin trained and one of a normal teenage girl.

He explained how Talia their mother wanted to avoid being a part of the media circus, why she hid her children. But circumstances forced her to send Damian to the US. He held back the details, that Ra’s Al Ghul saw his grandson as a tool, a weapon and perhaps a potential vessel if his own body ever gave out. To this day Damian’s mind is flooded with the duality of a grandfather that showed him ancient calligraphy in different languages and the grandfather who wished to imprison him. Who, as Damian recently revealed, made him duel at age three and when Damian refused to kill his opponent… punished him. 

Meanwhile, Bruce had to ignore his phone going off at a mile an hour with quiet vibrations, the chat ‘lit up’ like the Christmas tree on Rockefeller street. Bruce wore his camera coat pin in order to get some video for his private digital albums. He should not be surprised that Oracle found the feed.

Well… he already paid for the fridge. Can’t take it back now.

“Any subjects Da… Danny likes or struggles with?” Bruce asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Oh, sciences are preferred. Anything related to space is a bonus”, a warm smile spread on Maddie’s lips. Then she sighed in defeat, “He absolutely despises English literature. As a subject”.

“I have heard Damian curse at essays before”, Bruce nodded, not that Damian would ever admit to it. “When English is your fifth language, you would”.

Ida dropped her pen, “Fifth?”

“Classical Arabic and their native dialect”, Bruce put one finger down for both, “Urdu, Mandarin Chinese… umm”, he pretended to struggle holding a hand with three fingers in the air. “Right! Russian!” he exclaimed, “But I don’t know when French was brought in”.

Ida turned to the Fentons, “Has Danny showed any interest in languages? Spoken any?”

Jack interlaced his fingers, “He mumbled in his sleep and would get a strange look at the international news reports… but otherwise?”, the big man shrugged, “Local schools like Casper Middle only have Spanish available”.

“Right, we should go to the school…”

CRASH.

Something fell in the kitchen, loud, there was no shattering of glass but with a house full of rowdy boys- Bruce though of the worst. Madeline was faster, she flipped over the back of the sofa and ran into the and end room. This is not a woman who went to a local dojo and joined the military. Her training is ingrained and thorough. 

All four adults were gathered in the kitchen, Danny stood still, looking at Damian who now had juice all over his blazer. Just his blazer. He is more than capable of dodging this, and damage was very minor that Alfred and the laundry room could handle. (In fact, Damian has recently gone through the whole spiel from the butler. He now lectures all his siblings on separating their colours from their whites and blacks.)

“I’m so sorry!” Jasmine tried to get closer, plastic Tupperware, still closed, lay on the floor.

“This is nothing”, Damian grumbled, “Though I am in need of another garment for the weather”. He turned to his twin, Bruce caught a glint in his son’s eye, “Akhi, can I borrow yours?”

Danny nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “Sure”.

Great, what is Damian planning?

Still Monday - Tucker Foley

The stale middle school air, forgotten gym clothes and Mac and cheese for lunch are normal Monday fare. He slinked to his next class, mind filled with plans for later. Thinking of excuses to catch a glimpse of Bruce Wayne in person, Tucker spotted a familiar hoodie heading for the boy’s toilets. It was one with a faded NASA design that Danny found on a trip to the thrift store. 

“Isn’t Danny out today?” Sam asked, her hands wrapped around her backpack. “Something about the social worker”.

“And he was super vague about everything.”

“Asked all those hypothetical questions?”

“Yeah. I’ll check up on him”, Tuck waved at her as he entered the bathroom. 

Just his luck, because Dash Baxter is there and ever since he started growing taller he developed a nasty attitude. Dash smirked as he shoved past Danny, his friends snickering along to something he said. Not a good day.

Tuck approached Danny, he tried to reach only for Danny to turn and…

That’s not Danny.

“Um… you are…”

The look alike looked at him with his emerald green eyes and raised a finger as a signal to keep quiet. He had a smirk on his face as he pulled the hood lower. 

Ancients, that’s Damian. That’s freaking (sorry mom) Damian Wayne wearing Danny’s hoodie! Tucker was about to spiral but Damian walked around him and headed for the door, stepping out and jumping. Tucker looked down to see a pole (where did they get it?) lying just where a person might step. It was both a tripping and slipping hazard. 

“Hey! What gives?” A female voice groaned. The girl wasn’t even hiding that she had her phone out and was recording the potential mishap. 

Damian paid them no attention, walking away, to what Tuck realised was the administration office of the school. 

“Fen-turd!” Dash shouted, stomping loudly down the corridor, completely ignoring the bell. 

Damian picked up pace, not enough to constitute as running. Tucker knew he had to get to class but he could not stop watching. Dash caught up to Damian, grabbing him by the shoulder and smashing him roughly against the wall with drawings of sports. Kwan and Dale tried to stop him, telling him in hushed voices. The phone was still recording. Damian struggled a little, letting his hood fall backwards.

“STOP THIS INSTANT, MR BAXTER!” Miss Glenn’s ear-piercing tone echoed in the corridor.

Dash spun around so fast that he smacked Dale, Damian dropped to the floor. They were standing right in front of the office window. The secretary was staring wide eyed at the scene as the Principal’s door opened and the real Danny ran out in Damian’s direction. “I thought it was Fenton!”, he muttered.

Kwan facepalmed hard.

“Even so! You do not attack students on school grounds!” An unfamiliar woman said angrily, she turned to the principal, “I take it this is why the file is not ready for review?”

The principal, Mr Davis, a young man who no one liked, gulped, “Um…”

“I am taking copies of the surveillance video-“ she pointed at the cameras “- to the school board”.

Danny pulled Damian up, in a smooth and gentle motion. Both boys were quickly surrounded by adults who wanted to check on Damian. The young Wayne enquired, “Do they attack you a lot, Akhi?”

Tucker was rushed to class, not getting to watch the rest of the exchange. A class that was about to have five less students present than there are supposed to be.

Monday night - Danny Danyal

They convinced Bruce Baba to let Damian sleep over. The only thing he insisted on is having dinner. Which was good- because Damian is a vegetarian (Danny can see him and Sam getting along), and their house did not have a lot of options. Maybe crackers? Baba kept asking about their research- but mom and dad became quite cagey.

“Well?” Damian stood, arms crossed in his room. His expensive looking cotton pyjamas looked very out of place in his room. No branding, but despite wearing cotton too- Damian’s felt smoother. 

“Yeah, as I said”, Danny returned to their conversation from that morning, his tongue getting used to familiar words. He knew his vocabulary was behind his brother, however, he still tried: “Frostbite is my doctor, a doctor for my…”

Damian raised his eyebrow, the post it note held between his fingers, “Unique constitution?” 

Danny nodded.

“So, when do we go?” 

He looked at his brother, the smirk on his face that spoke volumes. Mischief. Damian accepted the whole Phantom thing quickly enough, saying he witnessed a lot of things back with mother. Danny didn’t argue, it made it easier. 

And this is why they are in their PJs, standing before the Fenton portal. It was eerie, quiet, when it was off. A hunk of metal. Turned on? It became like a living being, pulsating with energy, tapping into the perfect frequency to connect to the infinite realms. Danny programmed the closest coordinates he knew to the Far Frozen as Damian put on a spare warm coat and fluffy slippers stashed here.

“Close your eyes, or squint, but it will be bright”, Danny announced, he had to do it, rip it off. Like a bandaid. The circles engulfed him, covering his body.

Damian stared at him, approaching casually, “Does it hurt?” He carefully reached his hand out, hovering, just like he did before.

“It tingles?” Danny grabbed his brother’s hand, using his newfound leverage he picked him up and wrapped the coat tighter. “Hold on!”

“Danyal!”

Danny pocketed the remote for reactivation and flew in.  In ghost form his own core was loud, but so was the responce coming from Damian. Exited, Worried, Happy.

“I got it right!” He switched back to English, focusing on the task.

Damian raised a brow, “And you could have missed?” Worry became loude. Damian’s tone may sound condescending, but in reality this is how he showed concern. Danny was like that once too, getting in trouble for asking teachers questions because his tone was condescending. (That deepened his hatred for English as a subject). 

“The infinite realms are in fact infinite, Dami”, Danny explained calmly. 

He headed into the  snow covered landscape, getting waves from the Yeti who were all consumed into their own tasks. Shovelling snow, building from snow, snowboarding, skiing. Each one they passed called out a greet. “Welcome back! Great one! Kind one!”

“Kind one? That’s new”. Danny nodded to then, his arms busy holding Damian. His brother (just the thought made Danyal happy) was radiating curious and excited. A memory resurfaced in Danny’s mind, a word that Damian muttered near any animal: “fluffy fluffy”.

Embarrassment rolled over from his twin, loud and clear, leaving Danny to cackle.

Same time - Cassandra Cain-Wayne

The signal for her little brother disappeared off screen. She got a the warning the whole family received in chat. Going offline. Just vague enough to pass the Chat history on check. Not that Barbra would ever let it leak. It was still an hour to patrol, so she read the files. Seeing the names of familiar faces made her feel angry. 

Billy Batson- Suspected Magic User - Foster Family.

She sat on the Batchair, legs crossed. Most of her armour already on she scrolled through the list, mentally noting more names.

John Kent- Potential meta- Both parents alive.

So many have been guests in this home, had lunch at their table. 

Lian Harper- high Genetic potential- Custody: Father. 

Just a couple of weeks ago Cass taught Lian some ballet basics, and then they ran around an empty ballroom in tu-tus. Lian’s contagious laugh was beautiful as Roy and Jason discussed the more ridiculous conspiracy theories. A pleasant day for Gotham. Now- all Cass could think about was her own childhood. Raised to be a weapon, not a person. These records suggest a similar fate.

“Cass!” Steph’s voice broke her out of her trance. “Are you coming?”

Cass nodded, closing down all the files before she sprinted after Spoiler, ready to fly.

A little later- Damian

It was cold, made of ice. And yet the medical facility is quite professional and the hot cocoa is delicious, even offering vegan marshmallows. The explanation on how a ghost core is the main ghost organ and its function was extensive and clear. Damian only wished he could takes notes. Then, Frostbite explained what kind of being his brother had become- half human, Half ghost. Halfa. Not a very creative term, but clear cut. Certainly a new classification of meta human.

Damian was now wrapped in extra blankets (What are they made of? It has to be ectoplasm but why is it so soft?). Listening to Frostbite as he finished his examination.

Danyal was floating back and forth, a type of passing, if it could be called that. He fidgeted with his fingers just as he did under the table where the tutors could not see. “Frostbite, why does Damian have a core?”

“Well, that’s simple, Great one”, Frostbite replied as he took down additional notes, “To start- Kind one is quite liminal”.

“Liminal?” Damian questioned the word, realising that terms have slightly different meaning here was quite apparent. He had heard mages like Zatanna and Constantine use it before, never with a clear explanation.

“Someone who is sensitive to ghosts, bears a connection, there are different types of liminals. Starting from those who have been born into lineages, like mages”, the Yeti chief explained as he refilled their hot cocoa, “Liminals who have been exposed to ectoplasm in large quantities”.

“Like Jazz, Tuck and Sam?” Danny asked, raising one of his snow white eyebrows at the Yeti.

“Exactly!” Frostbite took a sip from his own giant mug, “And lastly, there are those who died and came back”.

“That would be my case?” Damian looked at his vegan marshmallows that seemed to float into a face like shape, as Richard would point out. Childish. 

“Yes, and on the occasion you were… um… gone for a while. You would have begun forming a core”, he explained, shuffling through reference books on his shelves. “So it would be dormant within you until your eventual… passing”.

“Dami has a dormant core?” Danyal grabbed Damian, “It doesn’t sound dormant…”

“Great one, your dormant core was reactivated with the influx of ectoplasm from the portal, resulting in your Halfa state”. He took a seat as he opened the book, “But you and Kind one are unique as linked up ghosts”.

Damian could linger on being called Kind One, or even on the amount of sugar consumed way past bed time that Pennyworth would not permit. He decided to listen.

“You two already died individually before, but when you died together, your cores became dependant on one another. Usually a temporary phenomenon, but with a close enough connection it creates a bond. This bond is allowing your-” Frostbite pointed at Danyal “-core to feed and restart your brother’s”. For a moment they looked at the illustration of simple figures that were humanoid apart from the wispy tails that reminded of the western depictions of genies. Between them was an illustration of a tether.

“What does it mean for Dami?” Danyal panicked, the air grew even colder. His hands shook, “Is he dying?”

Wrapping his brother in a hug, Damian pulled him closer, “Listen!” Danyal is more solid than Damian expected, his body is cold and yet. The faint vibration running through this ghost body was a comforting reminder that Danyal is here. Does not matter what levels of alive he is. It is always a sliding scale on both sides of their family.

“As I was saying, Great One,  you have restarted Kind One’s core, thus making him a living person with a functional core”.

Danyal sat up, glowing green eyes wide as he met Damian’s gaze, “Half Ghost, Half Human”.

“Exactly! A proper halfa! Just like you”, Frostbite spoke softly, “Please allow me to record readings, these things are mostly recorded in legends without scientific backing”.

Damian just nodded. His hand resting on his chest at around the spot where he and Danyal were pierced through each other. 

Some time, out of time- Clockwork.

The time ticked and stood still simultaneously. Shifting from young to old, Clockwork hovered over a memory of his own. 

Frostbite came to him with two shivering ghostlings in his arms, clinging to each other. The tether between them connected and growing stronger. Their pale blue skin hurried in Frostbite’s fur.

“They shouldn’t be here”, he remembered himself  saying, watching the two open their eyes. He could see two ways their lives could go. 

“They are… returning… aren’t they?” His arms shifted a little to hold the children tighter.

“A lineage known to subvert death is where they… originate”. A way for them to begin destruction or a way to help the infinite realms. He shrunk to the size of a child, approaching the boys who spent time playing snowballs in the far frozen. Two pairs of glowing eyes opened up, darting around the palace of time. “You two will need to decide”.

“Decide?” The two echoing voices spoke simultaneously. 

“If you return together, you will lose one another”, he spoke carefully.

“Which one?” Damian, Kind One as the Yeti’s called him for brushing their fur and helping Frostbite with his healing duties.

“Either”.

He looked at Danyal, “And will he be safe?” 

Clockwork suspected as much, the boy remembered much more than he is brother. He pretended to fall into the amnesia bliss of a ghost. Most children fall into this upon their passing. 

“Akhi?” Great One, Danyal, was oblivious. However, he can read his brother like an open book. 

“He will not face the same threats as before, we will look after him”, Clockwork reassured. He knows what the boy wants to hear, “Great One will be loved”. 

Kind one nodded, “Will we meet again?” 

“Unless the world ends, you are bound to reunite. You can trust my word”.

He stopped the memory. It was not much, stopping a driver near the woods for a break. To move a pile of Documents from one pile to another. 

Just like it was easy to push a certain government agent to be dismissed from project “Odin’s Eye”.

Chapter Text

Monday Evening, September 18, 20XX- Jason Todd-Wayne

The piles of lecture notes seem far heavier than carrying people. He has a future, a potential career and he started hanging out with a group of students. Some are later returners, others are changing degrees. And despite getting to punch out the green, it feels a bit worse. He noticed the change when Bruce and Damian left. At first it was being restless, then getting annoyed. He probably guzzled Bruce levels of coffee just to stay awake (no one reaches Tim levels unless they are working on getting a heart condition). Barbra almost benched him. BABS!? OF ALL PEOPLE?!

The essay is not due until next week and Jason leans back, looking around his room he moved back into. It took effort to clean it out, the items that lay around like museum pieces were carefully filed away, put away in plastic bags and storage boxes. Probably more for Bruce than himself. He helped Alfred in the attic once and discover files boxes of Dick’s old clothes. He never realised he got the same treatment until he had to put these boxes away to discover his own. There were far fewer, but they were there. Methodically filed and labeled by Bruce’s own hand and covered in water marks of tears damaging the cardboard.

In the cave was a memorial for a fallen Robin, in the attic was a reminded of a child lost.

Still not happy the Joker isn’t dead.

Jason kept his books and expanded his shelves. Added an arm chair and lamp with a small table. A reading corner by the window. He still prefers the library, the smell is just right, but sometimes he just wants the quiet of alone time. Jason should be reading his required text for next class, instead his hands gravitate to a different book. White Fang by Jack London was something he bought on a day out with Bruce. At the time it was brand new and something he treasured. Looking at it now, it felt wrong, the cover was somehow different.

He flipped through the pages, his eyes lingering on the words as he felt his throat tighten and his voice become hoarse. Jason is sat on the floor, reading to someone who is barely paying attention while another grips his arm firmly, eyes focused on the illustration.

“They will wear you out if you let them”, an all too familiar voice spoke. Talia, bent down to them, stroking the heads of both boys before brushing her fingers through Jason’s hair.

Monday, Almost midnight, September 18, 20XX- Damian Wayne

The machine became quiet, and Damian had to admit it was brilliant acceptable invention. To create a connection to the dimension between others, one that could be accessed on command and turned in with simple electricity. This technology will be extremely destructive in the hands of certain people. People like grand… Ra’s Al Ghul.

“We should get to sleep”, Danyal turned them both intangible and floated up to the second floor, “Doctor’s orders”.

Yes, Frostbite, the main medical professional of the Ghost zone recommended sleep to speed up the core development process. Not only will it transition Damian into a Halfa, but the mutual exchange should encourage Danyal to regain more than just his memories.

His own worry must be loud and clear, because his brother responds in kind as he places him on the floor. Damian instinctively closes his eyes during transformation. They face each other in the dark room, the only illumination being the stick on stars on the ceiling that became a little brighter after the light show.

“I…”

“I remember how we died”, his twin spoke first. In the faint glow he continued to whisper, “We were trained for something? It was so easy… to kill…” Damian recognised the default return to secrecy as Danyal chose League speak that he now had a slight accent in.

“Yes”, he wanted to reassure him, but what could he do, he was no example as he struggles to follow his father’s rules. “It was what grandfather wanted”.

Danyal looked down to the carpeted floor, walking to the bed, a simple finger tap on the mattress calling Damian to follow suit and share the covers, ignoring the blow up mattress laid out on the floor. A memory that Damian cherishes and Danyal just might regain. Grabbing the pillow and second blanket Damian crawled in.

“Why don’t you call him baba?” Danyal asked, sounding more like his seven year old self than the thirteen year old he is. Is this what he looked like to Richard? Jason? Cassandra? And the others? 

As much as Damian wanted to be an adult, to handle his own business as he was raised to do in the league. Finding Danyal made it clear that he was no where near an adult. He could not protect him.

“I could not say that without you”, he admits.

“And…mama?”

Damian swallowed his thoughts, “Mother is… she struggled between being a mother and a daughter”. Ever since Damian and Talia were both brought back, mother has tried to reach out, to gain his trust again. To fix mistakes. Only she never asks if those mistakes need fixing.

Damian’s mind flashed to the bombing of the island. While the clones were all made to kill, out of his own corrupted DNA- they were innocent. And they did not have long lifespans. Damian wished for those short lives to be happy, away from prejudice and judgement of civilisation. All mother wanted was to destroy reminders of his death in a misguided attempt to appease him. She instead reminded him of how he failed Danyal. They called him brother. And died saving his life.

Arms wrapped around him, “Don’t be sad”.

“How do you know I’m sad?”

“Your core, it’s telling me: Sad, upset, mourning”, he emphasised the last word.

Great, if Danyal could read him before, now he can plainly hear his emotions. He should get it out of the way, Frostbite told them they will experience each other’s memories due to their connection. Damian took a deep breath,  “Grandfather cloned me, one of them killed me two years ago. He is gone but there were survivors and mother killed them… They saved me…”

Danyal’s eyes glow green, now blown wide in the darkness of the covers. “You were cloned?”

“Yes, though our DNA is not good for that, damaged”, Damian though of them, deformed bodies, multiple heads, and yet so kind, he brushed his finger’s through Danyal’s hair, returning to a familiar habit, “One was more stable and aged to adult hood, the one that killed me”.

“Damaged DNA explains a lot”, Danyal radiated some kind of worry, it was clearer now that Damian knew he had to pay attention, “Damian, I was cloned too… she calls herself Ellie”.

Damian probably radiated worry now, as his mind raced a million miles an hour.

What do I tell father?

Tuesday, September 19, 20XX- Jazz Fenton

They were so alike and yet so different. Jazz observed the table manners and the hand that seemed to gravitate to the coffee pot. Jazz was on top of that, offering tea instead. Damian grumbled, but accepted. Even if it was for a short while, she gets to have another little brother. Far more reserved and cautious than Danny. 

While both resembled Bruce Wayne, her mind was occupied with the biological mother who no one seems to even have a photo of. The green eyes, the sharp features, her mind began to composite an image.

“I heard what happed at school yesterday”, Jazz spoke as they walked to the front door, “Are you alright, Damian?”

The boy put on his shoes, “I’ve had worse”.

She heard that phrase before. The first time Danny got into a fight he was threatened with expulsion, the second time he just took the beating. When asked why he didn’t even dodge, Danny said those exact same words: I’ve had worse, and then added, I don’t know when but I’ve had worse.

Jazz wanted to ask, but she already saw that Damian is far more guarded than Danny. Perhaps it was spending a longer time in that strict environment or maybe being a child of a public figure as big as the Philanthropic Bruce Wayne made him guarded. 

“You shouldn’t have”, Jazz whispered.

Danny gave her smile as he pulled Damian after him. The school gave him permission to attend in order to say goodbye to his friends (probably only three people) and classmates. Before he moves away.

Her heart tightened as she began her walk to Casper high. Tomorrow, Danny is getting on a plane and flying to Gotham. Away from the danger of the GIW. Away from them.

Same Time- Danny

The whispers and questions were loud to his enhanced hearing. His mind was swirling from last night. He is getting his memories back, a lot of them in rapid flashes, not to mention witnessing some of Damian’s too. When Frostbite asked Damian about feeling his own transition into a Halfa- Danny was surprised to hear that Damian felt the electric shock from the day Danyal got his powers.

For now, he had to deal with all the lessons the martial art training, the confusing duality of longing for his mama while fearing her just as much. Her strict instruction and gentle hands that tucked them in when she could. Her face was clearer now, and that morning Danyal stared at the mirror, he could now see her in his reflection. His mind filled with thoughts of Ellie and what their mama might do to her.

“Earth to Danny?” 

Danny blinked, he was somehow sat in the last row of the bus next to the window, boxed in from three sides by Damian and Sam with Tucker in front of him. “Yeah?”

“Danyal, you zoned out”, Damian said in a half whisper.

“Okay, so are you going to introduce us?” Sam’s voice was half downed out by the groaning and creaking of the old bus. 

“Damian, these are my friends Sam and Tucker”, he pauses, remembering a lesson on respect and using correct titles in different cultures, “With Tucker you might get away with Foley, but Sam prefers Sam and not Samantha”.

She cocked her eyebrow at the explanation.

“Thank you for informing me”, Damian keeps a neutral expression but he could hear the uncertainty in his core. They went through the whole explanation of preferred names and titles jester day with Jazz, who was surprised no one explained it to Damian before.

“Ah”, Tucked nodded along, “He might call you Samantha or Mason out of habit, just correct him”. Tucker got to experience seven year old Danny struggling with the same thing. Sam only joined them two years ago and got to set her own rules.

They spoke among themselves for the short ride to school, ignoring the stares and whispers. When Danny began talking about frostbite, Sam almost covered his mouth with her hand. But Damian reassured them he already knew. His brother was actually fascinated by Sam’s minor abilities controlling plants, comparing her to Poison Ivy’s. Tucker’s mastery of technology got appreciation.

He couldn’t help looking at the world around him with new? old? different eyes. Damian connecting to his friends allowed a barrier to be broken. A connection forged between his past and present as they exchanged phone numbers and added him to chats. He spent time in classes, radiating Bored very loudly. 

Later that day - Bruce Wayne

Damian sent a full report on his discoveries, including that this meta condition was dependant on being dead and rare. Conditions have to be met and Damian’s reunion with Danyal has triggered those changes. Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering just what Damian got up to when he had powers before. Now, those powers will be permanent and there will be two of them. Double trouble. No. Too obvious. Other will be far more creative with nicknames. 

The white vans of the GIW looked more like child kidnapping set ups than a government investigation. Placing tracking bugs and spying equipment was far too easy. The way they spoke. Bruce’s stomach churned as they discussed a “special project”. How they will use those things. While his own interaction with ghosts were brief, Bruce knew not to take them lightly.

There was one moment he lingered on, Agent F asked a question: The big Phantom or the little Phantom? While phantom could be used as a generic term for ghosts and spectres, Phantom in Amity Park is not used lightly. Does Danny grow or maybe shrink?

Also- letters for code names is a poor choice. (Maybe their own Agent A would consider a change.) Is it too early to confirm this organisation only had twenty six agents? That does not explain the ridiculous levels of funding that are directed their way, not to mention how integrated they are to the town.

He can’t bust into their headquarters for now, despite suspecting prisoners. It’s not like he could administer aid to them anyway. He needed a team who could help once they are free. 

Damian’s report is detailed- terminology, linguistic differences and topics to not be mentioned at all. Comparing with references Dark reluctantly fills out- there are plenty of outliers. Terms like Ghost Zone, Far Frozen, Halfa, liminal was far broader than anything dark listed before. Not to mention it breaks down by categories and subcategories. Dark just uses it to mark all magic sensitive folk.

While he is gathering data, Bruce almost polished off a box of a dozen donuts.

“Are you done with that?” He looks up in complete shock to see a ghost in overalls staring at the box.

“Almost”, Bruce responds, observing the spectre, “give me a second”. Taking the teacup off the saucer, he moves the remaining three mini donuts on the plate in a stack. Not an Alfred approved snack, so it is precious. 

“Box!” The ghost exclaims as Bruce passes on the prize, speeding away in an unknown direction.

He could see this one. Perhaps there was something location wise that made ghosts visible in Amity Park? Or perhaps something is different about Deadman? The pile of things needing investigation are piling up.  

Wednesday, September 19, 20XX- Duke Thomas

The soundtrack to his life today is “Don’t be suspicious” from Parks and Recreation on a loop. Naturally, since Dick has been singing the tune even on patrol and in the kitchen. Stephanie joined in, creating a chaotic duet. That’s how everyone began humming the tune. 

So did Duke. 

“The only excuse I can come up with is that we’ve been watching Parks and Rec at the manor?” He complained to the teenage co-CEO behind the wheel. 

It wasn’t unusual for Tim to drop people off on his way to work. It honestly terrified Duke at what Tim can do. He still has to graduate, even if he does his school work online or hands it in weekly. The uproar when he showed up in his business suit to a mandatory test instead of a school uniform. When questioned why- he just told them there was a shareholders meeting right after.

“Uhu”, Tim replied, paying more attention to the road.

At first, Duke felt stupid discussing mandate things like that with someone he looked up to. Eventually, he realised it grounded them. So he continued, “I haven’t seen a single full episode of the show? What if they ask me?”

“Duke, just tell them you’ve been watching YouTube compilations”, Tim flipped on the turn indicator.

“Same problem!”

When the car stopped at a red light, Tim spoke again: “Take out your phone and look up ‘treat yo self’, you should finish that by the time we get there”.

Duke watched, bursting out laughing at the Batman costume, “Did B see this?”

“I was told someone played it on all watchtower monitors when it aired”, Tim added, “If you want reactions, Barbara’s blackmail folder probably has something”.

“Bruce is coming back today,” Duke didn’t miss the tapping, the tired look in Tim’s eyes. “Worried this one will stab you too?”

The teenage CEO groaned, “Yes, but… I wonder if that’s why Damian is like that? You know? He lost his brother and then his mom drops him off at his dad’s house where there are a bunch of people he has to think of as brothers. We probably inflicted some sort of trauma too”.

“And the baby assassin responded like a baby assassin”, Duke added, debating new nick names for the twins. He didn’t know Danyal enough for something personal and referring to them by numbers felt kinda insulting.

Wednesday Evening - Bruce Wayne

A private jet was a blessing when leaving the small town. No crowds to spy on them or wannabe reporters attempting to get a scoop or anything else. The fridge was stocked with snacks and Alfred ordered takeaway to be delivered to the plane from a local caterer that covered multiple dietary needs. Danyal didn’t pack much, mostly things he cherished and didn’t want to be away for long. Bruce did list the Fentons as emergency guardians on all of Danyal’s paperwork. That got him a hug from the mountain of a man that is Jack Fenton and an approving Handshake from Madeline. The whole family had an open invitation to visit, provided a heads up for Alfred to prepare the guest rooms.

They settled in, Danyal’s eyes wide at the luxury. He sank into the plush brown chair, bucked in, looking small and defenceless. He accepted Bruce quickly, but also kept his distance and chose words carefully. He also insisted on calling him baba. 

“Father…” Damian began only to get a jab from his brother. “When I’m ready”, he hissed in Urdu, only to receive a snicker in response. He sat up straight, “Father, Danyal has been cloned”. 

The twin sat up straight, “Damian!” 

“Ellie is female and we do not have a current location”.

Bruce took a deep breath, mentally counting the remaining rooms in the family wing, being extra glad that the pilots cannot hear anything happening in the main section of the plane. Little Phantom made a lot of sense now. “I don’t think we should tell Alfred on the phone”, he voiced. Preparing a backstory for a lost twin was not difficult. A surprise younger sibling who resembles Danyal wilk be different. 

“I agree with that assessment”, Damian leans back, looking a little proud of himself and ignoring his brother’s gaped mouth.

Bruce carefully prodded him, “Can I ask how?” Surely it was not random for his biological material to be stolen, but it was still concerning. Someone is aware enough of Danny as Phantom to clone the boy. For what purpose?

Danyal explained how his DNA was stolen by a man who is closely aquatinted  with the Fenton family, a friend. Danyal avoids the name, using the moniker Fruit loop for the man. (It should not be hand to identify the culprit with that level of information). There were other clones, originally made to take him down (what exactly this meant wasn’t specified) and only one survived.

“He named her Dani, D-A-N-I as is Danielle…” 

Damian scoffed, “Not very creative”.

“Stupid, if you ask me, and very confusing for us”, Danyal continued, “So she chose Ellie, for now”.

Bruce gives a reassuring nod, “And you don’t have a way to reach her?”

Danyal nods, “It happens, but I still worry”. He shuffles in place, looking up from under his bushy brow, “she is like a little sister, even if she calls me a template”.

Remembering the difficult relationship between Clark and Connor (because why is Superman letting the boy just call himself clone?), he is glad they are friendly. If Danyal sees her as a sister, then that means, “I have another daughter. You have left instructions for her to find you?”

Danyal shakes his head in agreement, eyes still wide in surprise, his lips quiver, running through questions he cannot quite choose. He looks tense in the plush chair.

“You will remember”, Damian reassures him, “And I will explain the rest”.

Danyal still stirs, “You knew?” 

“I have found you about you about two weeks before you reached out”, Damian replied, digging through his bag for his tablet, “I informed Father around that time”.

The sharp blue eyes glare at Bruce in an all too familiar manner. He closed his eyes for a while before addressing Damian: “You are not going to explain, are you?”

“I’d rather you remember”.

Chapter Text

Some time ago-  Danielle Dani “Ellie”

By now, the ticking was nothing, it faded and vanished from Ellie’s mind. All she could do was look at her hands. She edited her costume again, switching to fingerless gloves and added a hoodie that stayed tied around her waist after she changed into the South Pole. Note to self- Penguins are cute but stay slow. She shuddered remembering how they lunged. 

Her hands still held up to eye level she concentrated, forcing the ectoplasm into her nail beds. Shapeshifting as a ghost was one thing, growing was something else. Her body absorbed the ambient ectoplasm and added it to her body.

“Progress?” The baby clockwork asked floating by. 

Her nails grew, long sharp, black at the tips, almost witchy and strange, the nail’s themselves are ectoplasmic green,  “I think so?”  She remained still, staring at them, she has been at it for months. 

“Well now”, Clockwirk smiled, “Would you like to try?”

“How…” she swallowed the non existent saliva in her mouth, “How do I navigate?”

“Your thoughts are more powerful than you think”, he shifted to an old man, “Just think of where or to who you want to go”.

Ellie gulped. That’s a lot of power. Power Vlad, Plasmius, would want to himself. She has to leave the zone, if she wants to keep her human half, she has already been here long enough learning her new power. “He will find me”, her chest tightened, invisible ropes constricting her form,“I wish I could stay here”. The ambient ectoplasm may have sealed her wounds and stabilised her, but fear gripped her. She just wanted one glimpse of Wonder Woman when the GIW shot at her.

“Ellie, child, Princess of the Infinite Realms”, she snorted at the last one, still holding the same stiff posture, “I require your help, to prevent potential tragedy”.

“You need me to do something?” 

He smiled, shifting to a young man, “I cannot interfere directly, but you can help prevent the worst outcome”. He floated a clock face, showing two girls walking on a side walk, but just a bit away, a car approached, “Sometimes, a simple warning would do”.

Ellie took a deep breath, she had seen it done before, but … she put her hand together, her nails piercing the fabric of reality. Gently, she pulled it apart like parting curtains and landed in a bush on the same street.

“I did it! I made a portal!” She cheered to herself as she turned invisible. She flew over and brushed past the older girl, the cold shiver made her turn.

“Hey”, she turned to face forward, her voice low and calm, “how long has that can been following us?”

“From school”, the younger girl replied absently. 

Ellie watched the two girls run to their porch, ring the doorbell, “Mommy! A strange car is following us!” Her job was done. Ellie extended her nails once more, parting reality like fabric and diving back into Clockwork’s keep.

“Are there any more?”

Wednesday, September 19, 20XX, before the flight - Dr Madeline Fenton

Madeline watched Danny talk to his Baba, the words flowing from his lips so easily. At the same time he turned to his Dad, to Jack, allowing both men to be father figures in his life. She didn’t miss the fact that Damian watched her, his face contoured in confusion and curiosity. Her own fault really. Flipping Danny from time to time is a habit. And they look so similar. Especially early in the morning, while she is still yawning. Maddie cringed as she remembered throwing the boy. Damian landed on his feet, staring at her. He looked like a cautious  kitten, she could almost see fur standing up straight. 

Now, at the airport, as they waited for the slotted time, Damian approached her. His steps quiet and careful. “Dr Fenton”, he addressed her formally, and she knew it was not out of coldness.

“Yes, Damian?” She asked, doing her very best to keep her voice level, not talking down to the child. 

“You remind me of her”, he replied, “and probably Danyal too”.

Maddie listened, took in the reply, let the statement soak in. The fact that Damian spoke of his biological mother remained unsaid. Danny was actively talking to both Bruce and Jack, at one point the two men shared a handshake.

“Can I ask how?”

“Mother has always been strict”, he said, “And she spent a lot of time pursuing her goals”. A driven woman, perhaps pursuing a career not quite comparable with motherhood.  “However”, Damian continued, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “She didn’t know how to show love like you do, perhaps from her own upbringing”. 

“I know both you and your father are keeping secrets”, Dr Fenton says, trying her best to not cause the boy fear, “he has calluses uncharacteristic of a rich man in business, I know one”. Certainly Vlad was up to something, but he could barely lift anything. Not a good lab partner. 

Damian remains still, then looks up at her. His eyebrows furrow before he resumes potion while rolling back his shoulders. “A good amount of self defence training is necessary to survive Gotham kidnapping attempts”.

Maddie suppressed  her laugh with a cough. She knew a trained combatant when she saw one.  “Damian, can I please hug you?”

He stiffened, that flinch and tightening of the frame. Oh, too much, she reminded herself, take it back a little, is this fear of physical contact or something to do with a rough guy image as the kids call it? 

“I can pull you into a hug with your brother, play it off as high emotions if that makes you more comfortable?”

A simple nod. It was a deep show of trust for a child this guarded.

“And if you have any questions, need any supplies or need someone to discuss this with, you can call us”.

“I shall keep you updated”.

Good. This went well, and the boxes of Fenton tech they provided Bruce should already be in the cargo hold. That was Danny’s real luggage. His room is staying as is, he will always be welcome home. 

At least, she hopes he can.

Wednesday, September 19, 20XX- Danyal Jackson Wayne

They descended  down the stairs of the parking garage and straight into a black luxury SUV, running, waiting for them. There were no people, or perhaps they were avoiding them on purpose. For now, Danyal followed. Just spending time with Damian had him drifting between now and a memory. He remembered the starry sky and the tense meals under the watchful eye of their grandfather, warm hugs and strict punishments, the comfort of his room and the feel of a sword in his hand.

Baba insisted on loading the bags himself. Probably noticed how he and Dami tried their hardest to stay awake. They got in the car together, the interior spoke of high class, starting from the fact that the seats faced each other And ending with the built in mini-fridge. Danny could barely contain the urge to look inside.

“Good evening, Pennyworth”, Damian greeted the driver as he closed the door behind them. He radiated shy, worried, tired. As always, Damian struggled to say something, too in his head to choose the right words as they swirled in his mind. “Is the manor still standing?” He finally speaks stiffly. 

Danyal sighed, forcing down a bubbling yawn, “He is asking how you have been while they were away, um.., Mr Pennyworth”. He looked up to meet the gaze if the elderly man behind the wheel, observing them through the rear view mirror. “Nice to meet you?”

“Please, Master Danyal, you can call me either Alfred or Pennyworth, your butler”, Alfred replied warmly, “and we have all been anticipating your arrival”.

“Nice to meet you”, he replied out loud, but Damian warned him how much Alfred downplayed his role. He spoke of chess matches and cookies and biscuits (there is a difference and the British butler is quite proud). 

Danny never met mom and dad’s parents, something about low to no contact that Danyal was not privy to. Jazz avoided the topic, shuddering at the mere mention. His best impression of a grandmother was Sam’s. 

The car doors opened once more and baba got in. He looked him over again, paying attention to details that Sam pointed out. The subtle logos that blend into the design, the fabric feel and quality. It looked like casual clothes, but once you noticed what it actually was, it was extremely rich. 

“Danyal?” Baba asked, buckling himself in, “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged in response, “Tired”, he pointed his thumb at Damian, “him too”. Damian didn’t bother with words, just elbowed him lightly in response.

Baba hummed, something in his eyes was fond, yet sad, “You can take a nap once we reach home?”

“No”, Damian grumbled, “I wish to have dinner before the potential hibernation”.

Right, Frostbite warned them, the hibernation. Their last visit confirmed that this was going to happen. Danny’s core was supplying ectoplasm and Damian’s was almost at full. All they needed was to hibernate, allowing their bodies to go through the development and lessen the tether that made them vulnerable for now.

It would last several days at most, but it still worried him. He lost time before, his memories of the social center there are vague. What he does remember is screaming and crying, words that didn’t make sense, people he could not remember. His chest tightened at the mere thought. Adults asking the same questions or repeat, questions that didn’t make any sense, each repeat and changing face made his head hurt. 

He must have looked panicked, the next red light Damian and baba silently unbuckled, got up and switched seats. “Hey, Danyal, Danny”, Bruce prodded gently, “tell me, what’s wrong?”

“I”, he let himself lean on his father, “I tried to forget that I forgot”. 

He let himself sink into his baba for the rest of the drive, eventually reaching the manor. A massive structure that looked like a fancy hotel. There will be a massive fancy staircase? Can he ride down the railings? 

“No one else should be home”, Alfred mentions, “Might be the best time to explore uninterrupted. There are a couple of hours before dinner”.

Before Danny could reply, baba added, “And you will be using Damian’s room until yours is complete?”.

“Yes. Thank you, Father, Pennyworth”.

Right, being polite, Danny reminded himself despite still being both overwhelmed and overjoyed the place did not look like Vlad’s mansion, “Thank you!”

Damian yanks him inside, almost immediately to be greeted by a massive Great Dane. Titus the dog took a good sniff, he flowed instructions until Damian told him to relax, or whatever the command actually was because they were both covered in dog slobber after that. Just when Danny though it was done, he was introduced to Ace, who also joined in on the sliver fest.

“I trust you can share your closet for today, Master Damian?” They were interrupted as they passed by the kitchen where one very happy cat was liking it’s paws.

“Yes, Alfred, that is what I planned”.

They saw the library, ballrooms, paintings, offices, kitchen with zero ecto contamination. They explore, Damian explains who each rooms belongs to and his own opinions on them. 

So many siblings.

Too many.

Wednesday, evening- Dick Grayson-Wayne

Not as intense, not at all. Dick could barely contain himself from cooing as Damian all but put himself between them and Danyal, his  arms are occupied with a massive salad bowl to the placed on the table. The behaviour did confirm a theory Steph (who is spending tonight with her mom but demanded asked for pictures) threw out the day before: Damian is used to being the older sibling, not the youngest one. Danyal took no offence to it, in fact he looked amused, laughing as if someone said a joke, his own hands holding a box of cutlery to be placed at the table. 

“Holy shi… baloney”, Jason muttered behind him, “he laughs like T”. Jason was right, Dick would think the blue eyes would make him a dead ringer (hah) for baby Bruce they see on paintings. No, they boy had enough of Thalia’s features to bear his resemblance to that side of the genetic pool. Except the eyebrows. Those things look like they have a mind of their own. 

Before Dick could say anything, he was passed a stack of napkins to place, Jason got called in to check on a pot on the stove and Duke was given the task of placing drink glasses on the table. Dick observed Duke, occasionally squinting when he looked at either Damian or Danyal. 

Tim and Cass arrived later. Cass smiled so wide at the scene and quickly asked for hugs. Damian Tim kept having double takes only for Duke to shove him. A “calm down” was added as he handed his duty over. 

Eventually Damian did introduce his brother. Danyal even gave them permission to call him Danny, though Dick could see how he relaxed at each instance of being called Danyal.

“Hey! You two don’t want dessert?” Duke coaxes the boys, sounding worried. He got to meet the twin first, catching them in the garden brushing Batcow lazily when he returned from patrol.

“Theyr… pretty good”, Damian is slurring his words. Still with perfect upright posture, Damian broke one of the triple chocolate cookies in half, then grabbed a salted caramel one and did the same. Sharing, obviously giving Danny a bigger piece. 

Danyal nods, taking a comic large bite of the caramel, “Mmm”.

“Did you two not sleep at all?” Dick asks. He knows well that Damian can function on slivers of sleep just like the rest of them, he isn’t sure what Danny’s capabilities are. 

“They are getting ready to hibernate”, Bruce speaks matter of factly, his own raspberry white chocolate cookie girly in hand.

“Hibernate?”, Jason places down the fragile teacup gingerly, “I’m sorry but what the… did I miss?”

Bruce looks up, “Have none of you read Damian’s notes?”

If dick was honest, he would say he , “I only skimmed”, he smiled, knowing full well he was all over the photos Bruce was sending from the Fentons and from spending time with both boys. 

A little later- Jasmine Fenton

They sat around the phone after dinner, having finished leftovers from the two nights before. Chicken, Chickpea stew, rice and a basic cucumber-tomato salad mom made as she skulked around the kitchen. The stew (not the actual name of the dish, she will look it up later) really grew on them when Damian showed the recipe: hearty, healthy and full of vegetables. Also less likely to come alive in the fridge. Sure, they do their best to contain the ectoplasm to the basement, but a blob hid itself once so well that they still don’t know how it got out. 

Jazz heard the ringing and mom scrambled to pick up her phone. Relief flooded the faces of her parents as they accepted the video call and heard, “Hi Mom! Hi Dad! Hi Jazz”

“Danny-boy!” And “Sweety!” Filled the conversation as mom and dad bombarded the thirteen year old with questions. Not like they didn’t do that when he landed in Gotham. Asking about the photos, is he sure the cow is real and how he was feeling.

Danny looked tired, sleepy, and Damian is fussing around as a Great Dane plops sideways and exposes his belly to her little brother. Only to get his own hair fluffed by Damian as he passed by, greeting them and asking how they are doing. 

Jazz picked up her own phone, watching the photos being mass dropped into the chat. “Wait! It’s a real cow?” She asked looking at the photo of Danny brushing the bovine.

“I did say I had a cow”, Damian confirmed, “She is the reason I am a vegetarian”.

“Ah! Reminds me of my childhood”, Dad added, he rarely talked about himself, but his love for overalls and strange know how always hinted at experience with animals, “Is that a star mark?”

“Yes”, the boy’s words are warm, even if just as tired and sleepy, “Sge is quite unique”.

“I won’t be calling for a couple of days”, Danny admitted shyly, “With the doctor thing”.

Doctor thing- that is code for Phantom related health issues. Now, it’s hibernation, both are going to go to sleep for days and Jazz is not going to be able to look after them. It felt empty, lonely. She listened to her parents check on Danny, telling him they were a phone call (and a couple of states) away if he needed anything. She took a sip of the ginger tea Damian left behind, now lukewarm but still pleasant with a dash of Honey.

They finished the call on slightly higher spirits. Mom left for the lab to do a last equipment check before turning in for the night. Dad cleaned the kitchen, shooing Jazz off to do her school work. 

Her own phone buzzed again.

Unknown number: Hi! This is Richard Grayson-Wayne. You can call me Dick.

Unknown number: We want to add you to a chat.

Unknown number: It will be good for you to have our numbers. Add these contacts. 

It was followed by a bunch of numbers with names, all she had to do was press add to contacts. She recognised the famous ones: Jason, Tim, Cassandra, Duke, Stephanie. Stephanie had a following online as the unofficial Wayne. She went to galas and participated in events.  There were also: Barbra, Harper and Cullen.  Another notification beeped.

You have been added to: Twin observation log

Curiosity got the best of her, she opened the chat.

Dick: Everyone! This is Jasmine Fenton! Hopefully she can give us blackmail on Danyal!

Dick: Welcome to the Sibling Chat, Jasmine!

Steph: SUP!

Jason: Welcome to the shit show

Dick: Jason!

Tim: Hi

Cass: 👋

Duke: Hello

Babs: Welcome

Babs: some of us here are sibling adjacent

Harper: Me and Cullen could be classified as aunt and uncle

Harper: Since we are Alfred’s

Steph: Holy fudge

Cass: Auntie Harper!

Cullen: No! I’m too young to be an uncle

Her hand hovered over the keyboard before she entered her message.

Jasmine: Hello. I’m Jasmine but I go by Jazz. Nice to meet everyone. 

Administrator Barbra changed Jasmine to Jazz.

Stephanie: Good! We need more girls here!

Dick: speepybabies.img

The photo had Danny munching on a cookie, his eyes half lidded and sleepy, just as  Richard/Dick has labeled the photo. 

Dick: Well spam thos chat with the pics

Tim:  What he means is- we will give you new blackmail if you can give us Danny photos

Steph: Tim

Tim: please

Night- Damian Thomas Wayne

Damian listened to his brother call the Fentons, Jazz reminding Danyal to follow basic hygiene, send a bunch of pictures into the group chat with his friends. For now, they only unpacked the bare essentials, but that was probably unnecessary as Danyal could borrow anything of Damian’s. No questions. They swapped things all the time when they were back with the league. Plus, Damian made sure his brother didn’t get a good look at the room, for now. They will decorate another day. Baba Father wants to make a full day of it- choosing bedding and items, even if he might not be the one supervising. For the time being, his own bed will do. (With extra blankets). They already shared a bed this week, they might as-well for the rest of it. 

However, the bed is occupied.

“I still can’t believe you named a cat after Alfred!” Danny exclaimed as he sat down on the bed and Pennyworth made way into his lap. Rubbing his face against his brother’s chest.

“Apparently if cats rub with their cheeks- they mark you as their own”, Damian explain as he watched his brother freeze at the attention.

“Sorry, I just… I know a guy with a very angry cat”, he gently touched Alfred’s head, receiving an encouraging rub in return. As always, Alfred the cat is spoiled and demands it to be so. 

Damian found it was nice to see Danny in one of his own button up sets, one of a soft cotton with a white geometric pattern of overlapping triangles. He put on the dark grey with a green accent on the cuffs. Both will be covered in cat hair soon enough, no matter how many brushing gadgets Damian gets. Titus sat at the end of the bed, enjoying the fact both Damian and Danyal have not bothered to push him off. The tail wagging created a beat that could match his metronome.

Damian quickly arranged the  extra pillows at headboard, their yawns synchronising as he lifted the blanket on the bed pre warmed by his pets. “Get in”.

Danyal climbed in and quickly wrapped himself around Damian, their eyes met each other. “Are you going to warn people?”

Damian paused, “What about?”

“That your heart might stop?”

“I did”, Damian admitted, dropping a message to Jon saying it is nothing to worry about if he hears something weird. 

They probably should have talked more, but sleep was far to powerful, dragging them into the realm of dreams. 

Same time - Billy Batson

With Cap business behind him and school work to be done, Billy slipped into his usual route down the alley. Toughing it out through the smell, he dodged the trash and grime, keeping his last clean hoodie stink free before laundry day. It was hard not to gag. Dodging some suspicious piles he looked up and swallowed some gross air, trying his best not to through up from the taste it left in his mouth. His only exit blocked off by a white van, on it’s side a logo that he could not quite make out in the dim flickering street light. 

“Shit…” he muttered, ducking behind a trash container. How will he get out of here? He is on the stupid list- if it’s not the government, then some child traffickers. The one thing about prepaid phones is you might end up with a super loud one by accident, and the one in his pocket made a sound at every button press. He would toss it if he had the money to waste. Oh gods, please don’t let it go off now! 

“Sorry!” A chipper voice quietly rang out from behind him as a small hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him. 

Billy felt the energy, the surge in magic as the gods in his head argued with each other, outraged by something. His vision filled with green, he floated, actually floated like that one time someone accidentally disabled gravity on the watchtower. It was chilly, but not uncomfortable. 

“Where should I drop you?” The voice continued, a girl, probably a teen/ maybe preteen spoke.“Perfect!” 

Billy only caught a glimpse of a white ponytail before he got pushed though a portal. He landed on his hands and feet. The all too familiar grubby subway tile below him. A subway pass fell on the ground right next to him.

“Ugh… thank you?” He called out to the air quietly as he drudged the dirt off his pants.

“Stay safe”, the same voice whispered in his ear.

Billy spun around, but there was no one.

Thursday Morning- Batman Bruce Wayne

Everyone is gathered around the entrance to Damian’s room. Watching quietly as two little heads peaks out from under the covers. Their chests rising in sink. A small machine . The Fenton scrambler was no bigger than a white noise machine and had the purpose of breaking down ectoplasm to “chunks” that would dissolve into the atmosphere. 

“Aww! Look at them!” Richard snapped photos. 

Cass waved her hands to get their attention before signing: Listen.

They did.

It was faint but audible. A soft rumbling, echoing between them, matching to the movement of their chests.

“Purring?” Steph exclaimed, pulling her phone out of her aubergine sweatpants, “this will be the cutest blackmail!”

“No”, Bruce interrupted, “we are sharing this on the secure sever with the Fentons”.

“And baby bat and babier bat will see it”, Duke added, walking by, “What?”

“I deserve half credit!” Dick stage whispered, pulling at his hair, “It was right under my nose!”

“Congrats, you won early”, Tim patted Duke’s shoulder, completely missing the moment Bruce grabbed his mug and replaced it. Tim wouldn’t notice it is decaf at first, and by the time he does he should be easy enough to put to bed. 

“Don’t celebrate just yet”, Bruce went in to adjust the blanket and rub the hair out of their faces. Danyal clung to Damian harder, hands wrapped tightly around Damian’s torso. He turned to the rest of the children (well, most were legal or almost legal adults), they are boisterous. He walked out of the room, giving them a smile.

For now, Bruce is keeping Ellie’s existence all to himself as he listened to the children’s chatter.

Chapter Text

Thursday, 20 September 20XX- Alfred Pennyworth (the butler/grandfather)

Fed, dressed and sent out into the world. His charges are all doing what they are supposed to for the day. However, now he has the additional task of keeping an eye on the young masters. Entering the room, he is greeted by Alfred, who came in for his morning nap. The feline stretched before loudly meowing a greeting.

“And good morning to you too, Alfred”, he greets the feline, “A pleasant nap?”

The cat rubs against his legs in confirmation before trotting away.

Alfred himself dusts the furniture and whines the surfaces without disturbing most of the layout. Damian has been one of the neater residents of the house. (Alfred is unlikely to have such luck with Danyal, but his bushes are safe). He adjusted the blankets once more before he left the room and headed down one room over, unlocking the door and having a look around. The painting will wait until the resident arrives, however, cleaning away the dust will be a good start.

Satisfied, Alfred turned around to see Cassandra standing in the door way. Still. Until she lifted her hands, he could see the questions running through her mind until she sighed: Who?

Alfred freed his hands of the duster and signed: One More. He paused and added: Secret.

They exchanged knowing nods as Alfred locked the door.

Age 3

Grandfather walked away, having confirmed the success of the return. The majority of servants and guards left with them. The raining group left Danyal to handle Damian. And Damian wailed, screaming and snarling at everyone other than himself till he was worn out, collapsing to his knees. Danyal grabbed the towel from the servants, draping one edge around Damian and wrapping him like a shawarma. His black hair is plastered to his face, greasy and mucky. The same oily film clung to the clothes, clothes that are going straight into the incinerator the second they are off Damian’s body.

Danyal wrapped his twin in a hug holding him tight as the boy flailed in his arms. “I’m here, Damian”, he muttered, tightening the wrapping on the shacking boy. He ignored the few servants behind him acting like furniture, not touching them. Not many are allowed to see the pits, and those that do value their limbs enough to not overstep.

Damian groaned, resting his forehead on Danyal’s shoulder, a shoulder just as small as his own. He was glad that the water hid his quietly falling tears of regret. Regret that he disappointed Grandfather. “I couldn’t”, he coughed, black sludge mixed with his saliva splattering on the stone. It smelled of sulphur and iron, just not strongly enough for them to gag.

“I heard”, Danyal though of the bruises that will form on his body in the next few days, and that Damian is talking to him. How he would be given a similar test. Danyal guided his twin out, back to their room. Their short legs making the trek slowly.

Their room was tidied to perfection by the servants. The two beds separated in the shared space by a small table. Danyal sat Damian down at the foot of his bed, on the ground, resting his back against the foot of the bed to steady him. They listened to the servants milling about- one ran the bath, another set out the towels and fresh clothes. They left, bowing slightly, one promising to bring a meal later.

Damian stood up on his own. Less lightheaded than before. Danyal rushed to the door. Opening the bathroom door to wash up, “I want Mama”, a muffled grumble called out from behind him.

Danyal took a deep breath, looking at his shaky hand, a hand that now knew how to weird a blade, a hand that has been slapped by tutors over and over for shaking or not being strong enough. They knew how to not leave a mark. They took turns massaging their wounds and sores. “Me too”, he whispered, knowing he will not tell mama of such small mistakes, they will only make her upset.

And if she is disappointed? Maybe she will not come back to them at all.

Thursday, September 20, 20XX- Tucker Foley

The news of Danny Fenton actually being the long lost Danyal Wayne were still ringing though Amity Middle, piled on to the fact that “the elite” was all still on suspension. Principle Do-Nothing was forced to resign to the end of this week, Tuck watched the man pack his office today. It was honestly surprising just how well the school day went, only interrupted during lunch when LunchLady appeared to attack the staff who didn’t give kids the dessert. Who knew there is a black market for school pudding?

“I would be optimistic”, Sam spoke, holding her books, “But we are in Amity, our luck is not great on any level. Especially when it comes to administration”. The hint that Sam was talking about Vlad was obvious.

“Tell me about it!” Valerie’s voice was loud, “And it’s only September, so any chucklehead they do bring in will try to show off by putting in new rules, like dress codes and other junk”.

They both stared at her for a minute.

“What?”

“You sure that nanotech didn’t give you telepathy? You read my mind”, Tuck replied, “Not about the dress code tho, I’m more conserved about getting a stricter for Gym requirements”. Now he was the victim of stares. “Right, you weren’t here when we had a German substitute for a month, his name was something violent? Like Von Punch or Von Choke?”

“Really Tucker? Now you have to be making this up!” Sam’s voice remained calm, but her finger taped against her upper arm.

“He wasn’t here long, we just to forget him. Danny would back me up”, Tucker looked up to see the secretary shooing them away, grabbed both girls and pulled them along. “We should talk somewhere else”.

They left the building, heading down the courtyard of the middle school towards the bus.

“So? What did I miss while I was away to visit my cousin?” Valerie asked, her arms folded. “Why did the Fentons send Danny away?”

“Well, they discovered that the government is planning on making a ghost army using shock collars”, Tucker revealed, remembering how he and Technus be attempted to get a more detailed blueprint for the ghost collar.

The whole contraption was bulky, with the biggest question still being on how they planned to get it on a ghost. The power source? The ghosts own ectoplasm would become a fuel, slowly drawing them of everything.

“That is diabolical”, Valerie said, “a slow erasure while the ghost can’t even control…” she cut herself off, remembering how she first met Dani Ellie.

Age 4

Warm, birds singing, the carpet beneath their feet is luxurious, the low table with carved legs is laid out with teacups. They sat on the carpet, maintaining perfect posture for this style of seating.  Equally laid out between the two with the same contents. Their eyes met as their nanny sat down and pointed out the first one.

“Damian, Danyal”, Aisha’s face remained frozen, her Urdu soft and kind, “You may begin”.

Both brothers picked up their cups, taking a sip of the contents. Nothing at first, those they knew, tasted before. They continued down the line, eventually reaching the tenth cup. Damian’s throat burned but he furrowed his eyebrows to hide his worry. Danyal’s hand trembled ever so slightly, he forced down his tears.

Aisha relented, giving them charcoal tablets and space to vomit the content. Rubbing their backs. Poison training was not bad, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

Thursday evening- Zatanna

This is why the bats run on caffeine, Zatanna reminded herself as spells swirled around her, showing children from all over the country and beyond. Some had magic potential, but would likely never find out unless they were taught or something else forced them to come into power. Others were metas, so she reclassified the cases and passed them along. Her last was a boy who had a talent for magic tricks, a young showman like she has once pretended to be. She would have been happy, if there wasn’t a file for ‘high genetic potential’. People who would make ‘good’ soldiers. It is disgusting.

The air around her fluctuates and the balcony door opened.

“Shazam”, came out quietly out of Captain Marvel’s mouth and Billy Batson walked into her living room. She waited for the usual, ‘s’up Z’ but it never came. The sixteen year old plopped down on an arm chair in complete silence, he slouched, arms resting on his legs.

“And good evening to you too”, she said sarcastically, wrapping up the spell and turning to her guest.

“Hi… Someone tried to grab me”, he spoke low, then he looked up, “Then, someone else pulled me into another realm before dumping me in the subway”.

Zatana’s instincts took precedent, glad she released her magic as she cast “yfitnedI”. She watched the swirl of Billy’s own golden magic somehow more powerful, concentrated and not because of Captain Marvel, speckled amongst it was something green and powerful.

Just traces.

“Billy, what exactly happened?”

“There was a van, waiting for me. It was a shortcut to the station that’s all.. grimy”, he picked his words, noticing the food delivery bag sitting all tied up on the table, “That’s when I saw the van, couldn’t read the logo if it was marked”.

Zatanna was more sure that this was list related rather than Captain Marvel’s identity being revealed to the government, “Well, you are on the MIB watch list”.

Billy’s face twists as he opens the bag of food and plucks a spring roll, eating slowly, savouring the moment. Something she noticed Billy to when he felt sad enough to relax and enjoy the moment. He paused, “MIB? It’s can’t be men in black... Magic Investigation Branch?”

“Close-“ Ze replied “-Mysticism Investigation bureau”. The sound of Constantine cackling is still ringing in her ears.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back, “I’m just glad they didn’t clock the others”.

“Your foster siblings?” She asked, waving the teen over to join her for dinner, “I did breathe a sigh of relief that Mary isn’t on it”.

Age 5

They watched the incinerator burning, the body flicking and moving from the flames as the muscles contract and convulse uncontrollably from the heat. The grotesque dance mixed with the smell of burning meat and a subtle odour of rotting eggs. And iron.

“The experiment failed”, Damian whispered, staring at the window of the cremation machine, feet firmly planted on the ground just as Grandfather ordered.

“I wonder why”, Danyal replied. It was an honest question- what exactly has made them so special to come back as people. If he could count his own resurrection as one- he was a newborn, he had no way to compares his death to his life. He did have Damian. He became reserved, cautious and terrified of failure, all of which could be attributed to his experience with grandfather just as much as his return from the pit.

“Could it be something genetic perhaps? An immunity of sorts?” Damian wondered out loud, his voice still a whisper. They were both glad the man was completlely dead once more before being placed in the cremation oven. The screams of a person burned alive are not memories they wish to see, the sounds they heard during the execution were enough.

The remained standing, watching the body burn and char slowly before a tutor guided them away.

Friday, September 21, 20XX, 4 am- Kate Kane 

Two heads of black hair, holding onto each other. Well, one of them just slapped the other and Kate is not turning on the light to see which is which. It was completely different and yet felt so familiar. 

“There is a lamp on the desk”, Bruce loomed in the doorway. The dim light from behind him hiding the weariness in his face. It hid his age too, those far and few wrinkles that barely show on his face, usually hidden by the cowl or the plastered on smile of the playboy Brucie. She hated it at the time, despite being just as bad of a party girl herself. Kate vaguely remembered her older cousin, who would stand and watch as she waddled around. As they waddled around. 

“I… I don’t need it”, Kate replied, her eyes focused on the boys’ synchronised breathing. How they shoved each other apart just now and yet their hands are reaching for each other in their sleep. “I should have seen it, Bruce”.

He didn’t speak. Of course he didn’t. The Bruce that chased her around as a child and read her fairytales in the library while doing voices died the same day as his parents. The same day as her aunt. The same day Kate’s dad lost his sister. 

Kate herself remembered how she looked at the mirror after… after Beth. Honestly, she doesn’t know what to call it. In a way Beth died and Alice was born, her feelings on that are complicated on the best day. What she is sure of is being the survivor, the stares, the sorry looks and pity. Kate longed to talk about her mom, her sister, but her dad shut down, dove into work and left her alone. Alone with the grief. Kate now thought of Damian in a new light. She was the same- lashing out, screaming and fighting. Her lashing out was longer, and involved liquor.

“I remember being like them, just enjoying being together, in the same space”, Kate whispered, “you don’t need to monitor me, cuz”.

“I’m not”, Bruce walked in silently, heading to the window. Kate wasn’t paying attention to it. He crouched down to the fainting sofa and picked up… Jason? Bruce caught her confused look, “He has fallen asleep outside the room two days in a row. Hopefully Damian doesn’t mind the additional furniture”. The man carried his adult son with ease, only struggling to navigate the door frame. It took a couple of awkward turns and difficult manoeuvring to ensure that Jason’s helmet less head was secure.

“Sorry, but my rep as the cool aunt in on the line”, Kate pulled out her phone and snapped a picture, “I need to keep this next time one of them stumbles on an embarrassing night out photo”.

Age 6

Mama took them with her this time, the massive tent is placed in the desert and has a full tourist get up with all the amenities including television and air conditioning. They practiced breeding in, using their language skills to imitate accents. Today, they are a French family of tourists. This was a cover, such frivolous things would not usually be permitted when traveling with mother. This time, to stand out was to fit in. To mix into the blur of tourists that pass through.

“And this is?” Damian asked, his French perfected, pointing out a young man sat by the tent entrance. 

“Hmmm…”, when mama spoke French her voice changed, pitched ever so slightly, her pronunciation was not perfect, a barely noticeable accent that seemed to slip in, “Your cousin, who is recovering from an accident. It will suffice for a cover story.”

Danyal looked at the lean figure, he could smell the faint traces of sulphur and iron. Whoever that is, they have been treated with water of the pit. Treated and not gone berserk. That is a point of observation. 

The days were rather peaceful, training, traveling though the dunes and watching the stars. They set out a blanket and watched the satellites move in the night sky. Without the light pollution, the stars are so bright. Danyal pointed out the constellations while Damian sketched on a rogue piece of paper. Still upset they did not get to see any camels on this trip. He did make another kid cry when they showed off their desert rose harvest.

They spent their short stay riding ATVs, racing against each other and crashing. Training for survival, recovery and damage minimisation. Mama would watch them, but more often than not it was the cousin. Who could not speak and remained a sentinel to their games. He only interfered when the brothers began to attack each other more than was acceptable for appearance.

“Sorry, Jay”, they replied in unison (in French) as Jay carried both into the tent, holding one in each arm.

“Ah! Jay!” Mama smiled, “We are just getting packed”.

Code for: Mission complete, we are leaving. 

They collapsed the camp, leaving most of the supplies with the ‘hosts’. They took along most of their essentials, crossing the border without checkpoints and switching documents midway. At one of their planned sighted stops the TV spoke of how an official on Vacation managed to crash and burn on an off-roading vehicle. The bigger scandal was how this man was supposed to be at work, and now was proven to have been misusing government funds.

Eventually they settled in a vast luxurious hotel room. (Now that they are watching this memory- the whole thing was like a luxury apartment). Danyal continued to complain, louder and angrier as he degraded English literature. Jay stood up. He looked though the pile and pulled out a book with a wolf on the cover. Damian was slightly intrigued and Danyal glared at his sceptically. Flipping the pages, the young man began to read. They watched him with fascination. Half listening to the story, half wondering just why this one managed to retain his mind. What would happen if he got a full soak? They drifted off, listening to Jay’s horse voice read to them in English. 

Friday, normal people hours- Wally West

After a couple of weeks of not seeing his best friend, Wally decided to drop by Bludhaven. Having shoes that don’t ignite is a blessing, Barry’s stories made it sound like such a common occurrence. He caught the man fumbling through his pockets looking for his keys. To think this man can find weapons hidden on his skin tight suit yet cannot find keys hidden in a pocket of his jeans. The same pocket he always uses.

“How is my favourite ex-police officer doing?” He swung his arm over his friend’s shoulder, slipping his hand into the pocket. The keys were right there, superman keychain and all. 

“Haha, very funny Walls, I’ve been a gymnastics instructor for over a year now”, Dick replied grabbing the keys off him. 

They talked bout work on their way up, actual daytime work. Wally told him of the cool car he got to repair recently and Dick told him a funny story of how he got told off by another instructor for doing warm ups in jeans. 

Once the door closed behind them, Flash decided it was safe to interrogate his best friend. “Dude! What is B and the rest of your brood hiding?” 

“Fist off, we are either a colony or a coven, whichever sounds edgier to the majority. Second, it’s private coven business”, Dick dug around the cupboard and pulled out a box of Lucky charms. The preceded to eat it like popcorn.

“At least have a glass of milk with it”, Wally groaned, he knew dick long enough to know his little ticks. 

Like how Nightwing patrolled longer than usual after subbing in Gotham or how he has forgotten to stock up the fridge. (Oh, he doesn’t have milk). And lastly- he left Bitewing to run around with the other pups at the manor. Meaning he decided to avoid the grocery run.

“You know what, how about we go get some groceries and I’ll make us breakfast”.

Dick paused, “You just ate, and I know you did because you ran here”.

“I can still eat socially”, Wally scoffed.

“You just want to butter me up so that I’ll spill”.

Ah, busted. He sunk up to the chair next to Richard, “Can’t blame me for trying?”

“I can and I will”, Dick pulls out a bottle of a Starbucks caramel Macchiato and downs it like he is doing shots. 

“You have spent too long with Tim”.

“Look, Wally, I trust you but it’s a family thing and not my secret to keep”, Dick sighs, “I’m actually surprised the Gotham gossip rags are keeping it quiet. Bruce probably paid them a pretty penny”.

Wally shot a text to Barry: He is giving me nothing.

Ding Dong. The door bell rang, Dick greeted an exacted delivery driver carrying a stack of takeout boxes. Just behind him was another guy delivering groceries. 

Wally realised quickly what this meant, not only have Bruce and Alfred sent Dick groceries, they also accounted for the fact that Wally was there. 

Chapter Text

Friday, 21 September 20XX- Dr Madeline Fenton

Photos, all Maddie had right now were photos. Sitting in her son’s room, she looked at the videos sent by the Waynes. Jazzy showed photos that the children of the family shared from their first dinner together. In her hand she held a sealed test tube containing a lock of black hair. Danny’s hair. It was cut off when Danny gave some of his white ghost form hair for molecular analysis and to run comparisons. The white hair eventually disintegrated into ambient ectoplasm. She we could not bring herself to get rid of the remaining lock of her boy’s hair.

“Honey cakes, how are you?” Jack’s voice cut through the hum of apparatus, one that will be disassembled the second they get the required results. He removes the the thick insulated rubber gloves, placing them in the sink before his warm hands massage Maddie’s shoulders. A small, quiet comfort. No words.

“I miss my boy”, she speaks, her voice struggles to leave her. The only comfort is that Danny is far away from the device, even if she cannot protect him now here - he will be safe elsewhere.

“We all do”, Jack reassured her, planting a soft kiss on her temple. “Let’s take a break? Some coffee? Juice?”

Maddie had to admit she probably needed the calories, her appetite has not been the same in the last few days, “Juice sounds great”.

Unlocking the door, no longer needing the excuse of clumsiness to leave Danny and Jazz access to their gadgets. (Both now have a key). The house was not as quiet as they expected.

“I never though to look at it that way”, Jazzie’s voice spoke clearly in the living room, “Thank you for the insight”. Around her were notes and papers laid out in an array.

A male voice over the phone replied, “Might not be helpful, do you have your teacher’s grading rubric? He might want the classical analysis”.

“Mr Lancer is prideful in his literally education, but he does appreciate a new perspective. Plus half my grade is on the public speaking engagement, so I am playing to an audience of my peers. Thank you”.

“No problem, glad to help”, the call ended from the other line.

Their daughter looked up, “Mom, Dad, I was just talking to Jason”.

“About Mr Lancer’s assignment?” Maddie asked, opening the fridge to grab the juice carton.

“Jason’s a literature major!”

Maddie poured the orange juice into mugs, she almost pours a fourth stopping before she can tip the container.  Heading back out into the living room as Jazz explains the assignment, engaging her husband who usually does not pay attention to things that do not involve ghosts. Still, Danny is missing from this pleasant scene.

“It’s fully how we know know two super rich people”, she adds, sitting down on the couch.

Jasmine falters, “Ummm, so… do you two know about Vlad?”

“Of course we do, sweetie”, Jack says, “After his ecto exposure fuelled his rivalry to a level of obsession we have ensured we keep him healthily stimulated to encourage recovery”.

“Plasmius was a bit of a surprise, but he does have a flare for the dramatic”, Maddie sighed, remembering how she hacked the hospital records and identified minor parameters indicating changes in Vlad’s blood work. Sneaking in suggestions as notes. The fact that the man who once asked her for tips when asking out girls, to be his wing woman, was now focused solely on her. It disturbed Maddie. However, she could not bring herself to abandon him. It was their bad timing that resulted in the accident.

“So why didn’t you say anything about Ellie?” Jazz asked, walking to the kitchen with an empty mug.

“Who?” Jasmine was not talking about the cat, so what is going on?

Their daughter froze mid step, like a slapstick comedy act. “You don’t know Ellie? No, wait. What about Dani? D-A-N-I?”

She exchanged looks with her husband. Jack furrowed his brow, “Is it like the digital assistant but a copy of Danny instead of your mother?”

“So you don’t know that Vlad Masters - unsuccessfully- cloned Danny and sent them to kill him?” Jazz carefully looked between them, eyes growing wider, “She literally hid in the Blimp pretending to be our cousin?”

“She?” The doubt in Jack’s voice was audible.

Jazz quickly gave them a crash course on the ghost girl, her powers, her issues with identity. The only surviving clone of Danny, who he has been treating like a little sister. Jazzy ended with: “She is not stable, dad. Danny reformulated the ecto-dejecto into medication for her”.

They should be proud that not only have their inventions been helping more than Madeline knew, with how resourceful Danny is himself. “The lex corp purchase”, Dr Madeline’s voice finally slipped past her lips, “We could never tie that to anything!” They kept an eye of Vladimir over the years, half to make sure he was safe, the other half formed when his actions became concerning. They could have laughed at how badly the military researched their contractor, if they weren’t the soldiers on the other side, once handling faulty equipment in the danger zone.

“Oh, Valddy”.

Sometime, Somewhere- Ellie

The endless void surrounding Clockwork’s place was vast and deceptively empty. One would think you would see someone approach from the mike away. It as far, if distance could be measured in the infinite realms, but she just made out the figures. Ellie still didn’t know what to make of Ember talking with Clockwork, asking and pleading. Her turquoise hair but a bun above her head, indicative of her mood. The guitar case is strapped to her back, however, in her hands was a white case, smaller, for a different instrument. Ellie couldn’t sneak closer before Ember nodded and flew away, her flaming hair blazing. Something made her happy.

“What was that about?” Ellie asked, hands on hips, foot tapping the air. Ellie was a lot of things recently, done a lot of work for Clockwork too. How long has she been at it? Her hair was longer and keeping it in a ponytail reminded her a little too much of Plasmius. No longer did she have Danny’s boy-haircut bangs that made her hair look like a mullet. (She actually went back in time and saw one- not a fan). The long curtain bands were uneven and would cover her vision. She tried a braid, it didn’t look how she wanted, but it was okay. It made do. (It didn’t have to be neat).i

“You will know in due time”, he looks at her, “Speaking of, I have a time related ask of you”.

Ellie groaned, the last time she had one of these she ended up in a very stinky place. Hygiene is a modern invention, it seems.

“Nothing that far back”, the spectre shifts to a baby, “You are not going too far”.

Sure enough, it was a classic gig this time- fixing time when someone carelessly messed it up. Not all of it will be perfect, but it will chug along and get things done.

Saturday, 22 September 20XX, 3:00 am witching hour- Danyal Jackson Wayne

Danyal’s eyes fluttered open, his mind confused on time and days. The room is dark with the curtains drawn tight. A soft purr filled the empty space, vibrations gently passing through the mattress. His limbs weren’t stiff or aching like he would assume. There was a level of relaxation and ease, freedom. His mind swirled as some information lined up, while the rest still sat disjointed, just out of reach. Damian was sat upright in the dark, his hand gently stroking the loaf of a cat sat between them.

Danny.. Danyal.. whatever, both were his name. “You sent me away”, he whispered in the darkness. Not a question, a statement. One accompanied by a frosty breath.

It was a realisation as they experienced their death at seven once again. While they were dead for two days, they have spent months in the infinite realms. Great one, he has had that title for much longer than he thought. Damian was much more aware back then. Not names or specifics, but fears and vague memories.

Not hearing a responce, he changed his intonation: “Damian?”

Damian’s eyes shifted to him, glowing light blue. Cold and pale. Their glow highlighted the tears forming in the corners of Dami’s eyes. Those eyes that sparkled in the falling snow of the Far Frozen, almost angelic unlike his bright unnatural green. Now, they looked like steel, unnerving. His core, now loud and clear sent out shame, worry and fear.

“Hey!”, Danny sat up, pulling his stiff twin into a hug, he radiated words of affirmation the best he could through his core. “You meant well, I was safe, and I was stabbed way less than usual”, he joked. 

“I’m just like him”, the whisper trembled out his mouth, full sorrow and regret. “I didn’t give you a choice”.

“Like who?”

“Like Father”.

Well, Danny saw glimpses of just how rocky baba and Dami were in his memories and probably are now. How they still cannot find words to talk to each other. The tension and feelings left unspoken were loud like a runaway drum. (Ghosts just radiate them, it’s easier). 

He pulled Damian away, lighting his eyes green to look at him clearly in the darkness. “I was just like baba too”, he had to admit that seven year old him had avoided people and shuffled away his emotions. It took a while, but talking to two veterans like mom and dad made him open up. Now, with his memory back, he knows it is because they could relate to his experience. The loss and combat.

Damian remained silent, well, humanely silent. In ghost speak he chanted: why why why why why…

“First lesson, brother of mine”, Danny slipped in French as he blocked out his sense to recollect himself, “How to not announce ghost speak”.

“I don’t need lessons”, Damian retorted, his eyes stopped glowing, now back to their natural emerald green, “An explanation should suffice”.

“You do, considering my powers was haywire when I got them that I almost lost my pants multiple times”. Danny smiled, watching the micro expression of shock and confusion pass Damian’s face, he missed this. After Damian’s first dip in the pit, he worked on one skill- hiding his worry and fear. A poker face was not easy for them at that age so he resorted to anger or dismissal- the iconic tth was born in the process. 

They got dressed quietly, leaning into an old synchronisation. Danyal wanted to wear his own clothes but Damian would not let him see his luggage.

“We are still the same size, huh?” Danny looked at himself, black sweatpants and loose T-shirt that were clearly loved loungewear.

“Good, you can borrow my spare uniform”, Damian replied, “For school”. Damian himself wore grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt with the Batman logo. Danyal looked at the logo, thinking hard of a memory.

Just before the dessert trip, they broke the lock to mama’s personal weapons storage “office”. What surprised them was the chest. It took a couple of attempts, but they unlocked it. Inside was an assortment of items. Small trinkets, earrings, a bejewelled necklace stored without a case, at the very bottom- a black cape attached to a cowl.

Damian smirked, “Did you remember?”

Oh, he remembered, he just didn’t want to believe it. “I want proof!”

Damian stood still, “Would any entrance suffice or do you wish to experience the intricate one father has designed in his personal study?”

Danny practically vibrated with the suggestion, his core definitely did. Sure, he has watched Damian’s memories where the experience was nothing but a daily task. He is surprised at how quickly the family figured out his identity as Phantom, the fact that Damian was spying on him when he was building the solar system model with Tuck. 

They descended through the corridors, down the stairs and into the study, slipping into old childhood habits and signals that only made sense to them. It took Danny a minute to realise why this mansion didn’t feel as stuffy to him as Vlad’s castle. Yes, it was filled with old things and luxurious items, all in rich people glory, except they were different. They had an energy, retaining some of the though and emotion brought in. The emotions they gave their Baba and the traces of their long gone grandparents, those that came before them.  Old, but loved. 

“I want to do the clock hands”, he admitted.

“You can fl… float?” Damian crossed his arms.

“Can we do it like the old days?”

The corner of Damian’s mouth twitched up for a split second before he crouched down, letting Danny stand on his brother’s clavicles. Danny stepped onto his brother’s shoulders, balancing carefully, subconsciously floating to reduce his weigh. It was a new view. The last time they did this, Danny would have ended up just below the clock, and would require him to stretch up and reach the clock. Now- he was balancing on his brother’s shoulders, looking down as he manipulated the hands. 

“Ahem?” 

Same time- Damian Thomas Wayne

The weight of those feet was proportionate, yet still left questions if Danyal has been consuming enough nutrients in his diet. Perhaps the lack of training had left a mark, or his brother has come to rely on his abilities far too often. Danyal was picky when they were younger, only eating what was given and forcing it down as to avoid punishment. The feeling of power coursing through Damian’s body felt approximately the same as when ba.. father and the robins brought him back, only now he was aware of it. Except for one thing: he cannot remember his time dead. 

Damian remembers getting stabbed, bleeding, loosing consciousness  and waking in a vast green. He is gasping, struggling to breathe even if he didn’t need to.  A voice calls out to him, slipping a gas mask on his face. 

That’s where it ended. 

“Ahem?” Alfred found them, though Damian expected the man to be in the cave. 

“Good morning, Alfred”, Damian spoke first, setting the tone for his twin.

Danyal quickly added, “Morning, Alfred”.

The hands clicked into place, the mechanism was in motion, opening the entrance to the batcave.

“Well, young masters”, Alfred smiled, “While I still have you - would you perhaps enjoy some snacks? You have been asleep for days, however, breakfast is only a few hours away”. Knowing Alfred, he probably has it all planned out by now. 

Damian remembered the last time they had gone out with mother, months before rebellion, the fire and the wound that connected them. Mother always called everything “training”, even if it was something else. They had to hide their expressions. “Anything you want?”, he asked Danyal who stood frozen, “Alfred is an excellent cook, and you are not limited by my dietary preferences”.

“Umm, I hear your cookies have caused fights?” Danyal got off, shifting a before asking: “What’s baba’s favourite?”

“Raspberry and white chocolate chip”, Alfred admitted, amused tone missing completely, “And I have a large variety prepared for the post patrol meal. Though I would suggest something more gentle on the digestive system for now? Yogurt and fruit perhaps?” 

“That would be wonderful, Alfred, meanwhile I can give Danyal a tour?” Damian caught the surprise in Danyal’s eyes, felt it too. It would have been unthinkable to ask for permission of servants back in Nadra Parbat, only teachers. For a while, Damian had to classify Alfred as a teacher in his mind to move over the barrier of not seeing him as a servant. He doesn’t anymore. 

Alfred is family, pleasant family. Perhaps this is why he did not wish to see him as such. Up until this point he did not receive the same kind of kindness from family. There were moments, but kind words came from outside family. 

“I suggest avoiding the restricted sections without supervision”, Alfred added, leaving them to their own devices.

“Ttt”.

“Ancients! Is that a fireman pole?” Danyal’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

Damian took the lead, descending to the cave system via said pole. His twin followed him after.

Saturday, 22 September 20XX, 4:09 am- Tim Drake-Wayne/Robin

Well, he is glad that they made those new Robin suits. Getting to wear the colours while the demon brat… brats… (actually he isn’t sure on the second one just yet) are out of commission is fun. Steph did offer to drop Jason’s off along with a repainted helmet, but they aren’t ready to cause panic in the alley just yet. 

Good call too, considering just who broke out of Arkham.

“Let me at him!” Harley wailed, held tight in Ivy’s arms, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face,  “i need to bash his face in!”

“Harley, you just got off probation”, Spoiler approached her, “but we are very grateful for the heads up”.

The ex-criminal took a deep breath, “Any time”.

“Quick question- What is that mascara? It’s not even budging?” Spoiler asked. 

Robin let out a strangled grunt when he heard that, his hands holding down the unconscious Joker. The clown didn’t even change into his signature suit, but had an aubergine duffel full of Joker gas canisters that hinted to a stash house. The suit was probably in there too. Tim debated whether to hand it into evidence or not. 

“Ives has been working on an all organic makeup! It’s waterproof too!” 

The chatter continued with Steph successfully guiding the couple away as police sirens blared along with the Arkham van. He filled the reports in his cuff till he was the Batmobile pulling up silently. 

“Your ride is here, kid”, one cop smirks.

Ah, that’s the one thing he didn’t miss about Robin. The undermining, treating like you are nothing without the big bad Bat behind you. Tim was glad Dr Quinzel (her license is still active) got to the mad man before they arrived. He walked over to the Batmobile, the door opened. Tim stuffed himself in the shotgun seat now that he has zero competition. The door closed silently, windows tinting to hide the passengers. Buckling his seatbelt, Tim Robin let himself relax.

“Good work”.

“It wasn’t much”.

They spent another hour around, catching an alcoholic about to beat up her kids, stopping a bank robbery that the crooks tried to make look like a Riddler scheme. Overall- uneventful, which was good considering they are down by three. Damian is out of commission, Dick has gone off with the (second) Flash and therefore Hood is covering Blud for him.

The girls headed back before them, so they weren’t surprised to see the motorcycles already parked in the cave, engines not yet cooled and the machines themselves thus covered in grime. The Batmobile will need a wash too. They left the platform and the automatic cycle activated (because cleaning by hand is reserved for punishments). Tim heads for the computer only to freeze and turn to the conference table.

His first instinct is to as Damian what he is doing, but his mind quickly processes the slightly longer hair, the slumped posture and the tapping pencil. Habits that were thoroughly eliminated from Damian if he ever had them. 

This is Danyal, Danny, Phantom.

“I would say ‘Good morning’, but Alfred mentioned that the greeting is reserved for breakfast”, Danyal said as he continued scrolling on the tablet. He looked up, that familiar under the brow glare, that, despite having very Bruce like blues, reminded Tim of who the other side of that biology is. “Nice to meet you… again… and I’m sorry about your spleen?”

“Um, hi and thank you?” Tim wanted out of the Robin uniform fast, who knows what kind of mood Damian is in now. “Why are you in the cave?”

The teen sat up straight, “I got my memories back and I got to see enough of Damian’s to know where people stand in this family”. 

Timothy did not like that, they were on better terms these days and Danyal’s mind has has gone through the worst of it. 

“You don’t need to worry about me stabbing you either, these days I prefer my fists”, Danyal added, “but I am not challenging anyone for their place”, he sighed before muttering, “I already did that once and look where that got me”.

Tim’s brain was still occupied with cases when he herd the familiar steps of Bruce. “Danyal”, Bruce spoke in his own voice as he removed his cowl, “you are awake”.

“Very observant”, their (newest) youngest spoke in a Damian like tone, then smiled, “Baba, I’m glad Damian is with you, even if it’s been rocky sometimes… I certainly had my issues with mom and dad”. He left something unsaid as he bit his lip and looked at the file. Ra’s Al Ghul was dead when his body went missing. 

“Speaking of”, Stephanie emerged dressed in her most sensible purple PJs after a shower, “Where is Baby Bat, Babier Bat?”

“Making Chai”, Danyal smirked, “Sulking”.

“Why?”

“Because he tried to go ghost and couldn’t”. 

Chapter Text

Saturday, 22 September 20XX- Danyal Jackson Wayne

Some would say that that was enough sleep to last a life time. Others would call that a hyperbole. Still, it allowed for them to not sleep until breakfast. Damian fussed around the cow, followed at his heels by the dogs while the cat sat up perched in an observing manner. As if synchronised to Damian’s happy, caring and love, poring off him in buckets. None of that passed on to his facial expressions or the attitude as he reprimanded them for unsightly behaviour and to wait their turn.

A back yard this was not. The grounds of Wayne manor are like a park. It is sinking in for Danny that he is now living the rich life (once again). Danyal sat on outside deck (porch? Rich people must have fancier names), a mug of tea in one hand and a plate of sliced fruit by his side. He left the files in the cave (an actual cave with actual bats), however, he saw enough. 

Grandfather wanted to use their bodies as spares for himself. Not just organs, though that was diabolical enough. If his, Ra’s, own body could no longer handle revival via Lazarus pit. Danny’s mind was filled with questions- what would he do if it didn’t work? If he didn’t feel comfortable in either of their bodies?

A grotesque image surfaced- his and Damian’s bodies sewn together in a messed up Frankenstein’s monster kind of way. Their collective humanity dead. 

Danyal had to deal with his trance unfolding emotions, seeing Jason alive and healthy was a bigger relief than he first realised. Steph radiated an excitable energy that he could metaphorically get drunk on. Cass was a calm and kind presence. Alfred, the man radiated a joy of a growing family. Duke seems to be unsure of himself, but having someone else who had to learn their own powers already gave them a common ground. Not sure on this Dick character just yet, perhaps spending more time with the eldest would prove him wrong. Baba seemed to switch emotions like masks, still, Danny felt a certain unease and tension coming off him. 

The only one Danny was weary of is Tim. The look of borderline horror and a faint waft of fear made Danyal dislike the teen instantly. And not the kind of dislike he felt towards Jazz whenever she acted as an elder sibling. (That’s what Damian had an issue with. Probably). No, Tim made Danyal feel like a monster. And not the fun Halloween kind. 

“You are upset”, Damian sat down next to him after tossing a ball and watching the Great Dane disappear in the bushes. The German Shepard sat still, patiently awaiting his own turn.

Danny knew he radiated fear, confusion and sadness, but Damian was identifying everything much easier than he did when he got his powers. “Do you remember? When you were dead?”, he prodded, knowing full well that it is a charged question. However, it could help Damian connecting with his ghost side.

“When Heretic killed me?”, Damian replied as Titus approached, “Release”.  The overgrown pup dropped the item to the ground.

“Yeah”.

Damian shook his head, “Nothing comes to mind, which is strange considering I remember the Far Frozen and Young blood from when I was two”.  

Oh, that is interesting, young blood hangs out with recently dead kids when he isn’t a menace. 

“It will probably come back to you, eventually”, Danny tried to sound reassuring. Perhaps it wasn’t time yet, which means it had Clockwork written all over it. He took the ball from Damian and approximated his strength, keeping in mind Ace’s physicality he threw the ball, watching the dog happily chase it across the yard. 

“Want to try again?”

“Not out here”, Damian whistled, calling back both dogs, “Perhaps the basement will prove a better training ground”.

Basement, the most obvious of code words for the batcave. They are dumbing it down for him. Not that having a cave for his secret identity didn’t force Danny to compare his own Baba to a certain fruit loop. For now, he tried to link it more with Fenton Works. A professional setting, away from prying eyes. Still, he appreciated their worry when he explained that Agent A already had a negative connotation in him mind. 

“You do have a gym somewhere around here?” Danny asked, not quite wanting to go back under ground. (Haha, like a corpse. Sam would smack him for that joke). Not that he needed an answer.

“What kind?”

Okay, he didn’t expect that. “How many do you have?”, he prodded cautiously.

Damian held the door open, something that he never did back in the league of assassins. “Do you think Grayson would not have a complete aerial set up? From trapeze to those areal silk things- father got him all of it”.

Danny expanded his sensory field a little, feeling the emotions of happy and excited from the pets. He lowered his perception back in Amity, too many people were liminal from ectoplasmic exposure. Once Danny was aware, he kept getting distracted, waking up from other people having nightmares. Entering the mansion, he felt more than he expected: dormant cores. The emotions were not being spoken like a language, but he could get the gist if it. 

“Damian”, he asked, “Has everyone in this family died before?” The question was more rhetorical, he could already tell it was a yes.

“I am not sure if I would say everyone. Many have”, his brother spoke vaguely. 

“And Duke is the only Meta?” Danny shook off someone’s dream, “How?”

Saturday, 22 September 20XX, breakfast- Jason Todd-Wayne

“Holy shit”, Jason’s spoon clattered on his porcelain plate, “you laugh like T”. Shaking shoulders, a low yet jovial laughter with a barely audible snort. Jason has only heard Thalia’s genuine laugh once, maybe twice. While it sounded nothing like Catherine, but the energy brought back memories of happier times, joy.

Danyal, the source of said laughter, looked up. He is sat next to Bruce who is at the head of the table. One eyebrow raised, fork stabbed into his omelette, he turned stiff. That didn’t match what Jason felt, emotions that were not his own. Jason felt upset, upset in a way that someone you care about didn’t see you. The kid stayed in that position for a moment before his face began to relax,  “You don’t remember?”, the corners of the boy’s mouth turned down. His vocal tone was hurt, emotionally. 

After taking a second to identify it, Jason’s face fell as he looked between the twins. Damian, sat to Danny’s left, was still chewing on his side of roasted vegetables (so that’s what he gets instead of bacon). He tapped on the table ‘N O’, not waiting to finish eating or switching to sign language as both his hands were occupied with utensils. He radiated some kind of calm. A surprising emotion for the boy who destroyed topiaries.

“I don’t think that woman can genuinely laugh”, the replacement muttered, sipping his coffee, savouring the flavour as if he will not get for the nearest drive through and order some monstrosity the second he is out of Bruce and Alfred’s view. He was one seat over from Bruce on the opposite side of the twins.

Damian glared, grip tightening around his cutlery. He held back. Jason could not say the same about Danyal. The boy’s eyes seemed to go pin point, his posture frozen, not just physically, but the air around him turned cold until Damian poked his cheek and the energy dissipated. Especially with Cassandra, who was previously was sat on the other side of Tim and next to Bruce, appeared around the twins and pulled them both into a hug.

“Sorry, Cass”, both boys replied to an unspoken reprimand. 

She rubbed their shoulders, high fived Duke and circled back to her seat, fluffing B’s bed head hair as she passed by.

Breakfast continued quietly, but Jason noted the occasional stares in Tim’s direction. The kid managed to piss off another one, and golden boy is not here to mediate. Hopefully Dickie bird comes back before the place is set on fire, or freezes over. 

“We are going shopping after”, Bruce speaks, looking at the twins, “or are you two planning to continue sharing a room?”

Just after- Jasmine Fenton

The ringtone, it was loud and clear that Jazz dropped the notebook (gently, on her bed. She is not an animal) and ran downstairs to the living room. Her mother sat on the couch, smiling wide and nodding as Danny’s voice rambled on the other side. Her dad was leaning on the back of the couch, the tension in his shoulders eased, but not gone. She slipped onto the couch next to her mom and gave a small wave as she listened to Danny ramble about things he remembered. His favourite books and looking at old navigational maps, desserts and the like. 

“Anyway, we are going shopping later for my uniform fitting and other supplies”, Danny added, scratching the back of his head.

“Aww”, Jazz teased, “Can I get photos of you in the uniform?”

A voice rang out from behind Danny: “He will be borrowing mine until his is produced, would those photos suffice?”

“Sure, Damian”, mom replied, “Thank you”.

“Traitor!” Danny hissed, glaring over his shoulder, “Any news?”

Dad took the phone from mom, “Well, Danno, if you are wondering about the local ghost activity than you have nothing to worry about! You parents are the best ecto-biologists in the Americas”, he continued with an obvious wink.

“Yes, sweetie! A bento box store opened up downtown, one of those fancy places. We thought Box Ghosy might show up, but instead it was Lunch Box”. Her mom almost squealed. Jazz already knew, the fact that Lunch Box- the child of Box Ghost and Lunch Lady exists was practically proof that ghosts are a new species.

“Oh! Yes!”, Dad beamed, no longer forced to just shoot ghosts, having weapons on hand but being able to passively observe. “The grandmother of the owners quickly invited the ectoplasmic tyke to choose her own box! When she was finished, the owners handed it over as a gift to ‘the spirit of boxed lunches’”. 

Mom then took over, continuing to talk about the cultural treatment of ghost in Japan and what he knew of spirits inhabiting items. “So she is treating Lunch box as a little deity”. 

Jazz continued, “Red Huntress dealt with a blob ghost infestation at the park”. She held up and thumbs up and did a little motion and signalled there was more to the story.

A while later- Batman Bruce Wayne

Incognito, that’s the look’s classification. Clothes that are just normal enough to blend in, the least luxurious car in the garage and two kids wearing the most normal of the clothes they own. If Bruce really wanted to disappear, he could. However, this was not the day’s agenda. Today- it is shopping. If anyone recognised him, they would not have photos due to the flash reflectors built into the fabric of his jacket- paparazzi proof is the media term for it. 

And yet, they need to have rumours started.

He watched Danyal, picking through the cushions and throw blankets laid out in the store. In his hands was a simple black one with the NASA logo stretched out in the centre. 

“While I appreciate the organisation and their dedication to research”, Damian began, approaching with a different blanket folded up in his arms, “Would you not prefer an item that not only aligns with your interests, but also holds aesthetic value?”

Danyal blinked, “Damian, you could just say it’s butt ugly”.

“Ttt”, Damian unfolded the blanket he had in his arms, covered in constellations, “it’s butt ugly”, he mocked Danny’s tone, not quite putting his vocal imitation skills to full use, “and I have a suggestion”.

The suggestion ended up in their ‘basket’, more of a list that will be handed to be arranged for delivery, along with the spinning ergonomic chair for his desk and desktop computer accessories (in all the NASA covered glory). Pillows were next, Danny preferred the firmer ones, complaining that the soft one felt like his head hit the mattress directly. 

“You can double them up”, Bruce suggested.

Danny blinked, the thought of it being bewildering. 

“Father is right, having the option has proven to be useful”, Damian added, holding out the said options. 

Danny squeezed one of them, staring Damian in the eye, “I will make you say baba”. That earned him a smack across the face with the other pillow. Bruce managed to pull the boys apart, trying to prevent an all out war in the store. Had to put on the full Brucie to apologise to the clerk. 

After the order was placed, they headed to get Danyal fitted for a uniform and buy additional clothes, including suits, to which the teen rolled his eyes at. “Sam and Tuck will be making fun of me for weeks”, he stared at his reflection.

Damian, sat in the velvet armchair looked up from a catalogue, phone taking pictures discreetly,  “So you don’t want a suit for the gala?”

“We will hold a charity gala and introduce you officially to Gotham society”, Bruce explained, watching the boys exchange a look. Danny lifted his eyebrows in a pattern to which Damian replied with one lifted eyebrow and a wince. A kind of silent communication that would usually pass undetected in public. “What are you discussing?”

“How much twinning we plan on going for”, Danny replied, eyeing the racks of fabric. “We are individuals, but using our looks is an option”.

“I suggest several options for now”, Damian pointed out one of the catalogue photos, “some that match what I have so we can have the option if we are in the mood”.

Bruce recognised the illustration, “And just to ensure yours in different from Damian’s - a different coloured lining would be a good indicator”. 

The boys seemed to sink in, whether it was the result of sharing memories or simply falling into old habits. Something tugs Bruce- he missed eight years of Damian’s life, thirteen of Danyal’s. 

“Can we wait?”

The question from Danyal snapped Bruce back to reality. They were already in the car, heading down the highway in the back seat. A shopping bag of some of the store’s ready made items on the floor between them. He even had a cup of camomile tea in his cup holder. 

“We have an idea for Ellie, Father”, Damian spoke up, “it does require us to forge additional documents”. 

Danny pulled up a photo on his phone, and about seventy percent of the plans Bruce could come up with fell away. No way to label Ellie as an adopted kid, not with that level of resemblance. Half siblings was a gone possibility.

Along with everything else as the vehicle startled to a stop and the panicked screams echoed around them. 

“Ttt, Grayson is out of town”, Damian grumbled, his fingers tapping impatiently, “Todd has a group assignment. Who is substituting for Duke today?”

Same time- Stephanie Brown/Spoiler

So not used to the day shift. So not a Spoiler kind of gig, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gonna do. Besides, Duke needs a day of just doing things like group projects and visiting his parents. The highway was mostly fine, after all most of the really bad criminally insane individuals preferred night time. Steph scanned the scene, hoping that this was the work of a certain chlorophyll dependant individual, though she has been far from criminal activity recently.

“HELP! MY BABY!” A woman’s shriek echoed 

There it was, the sedan that was rammed into by the get away car of the robbers. “Bank robbery, stupid”- Spoiler muttered into her coms- “if the GCPD doesn’t get them then the crooks who are using the bank for their dirty deeds will”.

“ROSE!” The woman, probable mother, wailed from the front seat, the passenger side of her vehicle crushed. She is trapped inside.

“Her door likely jammed from the impact”, Bab’s voice was a welcomed sign over the coms.

“And the robbers?” Steph jumped over another vehicle, approaching. She had to get the mother and child to safety. The likelihood that the criminals will use her as a hostage was high. (Thank you Tim and your insane statistical models). Steph was about to leap again when her eyes met Bruce’s.

She gave a quick glance to the other passengers: Alfred’s stoic composure, Damian’s classic scowl and Danyal’s wide eyed stare as he mouthed something in shock. Steph didn’t get to see much, but there was definitely recording from the visor cam.  

The robbers were coming to, leaving her a moment to check on the mother and baby. Luckily, the woman put the seat right behind her own, strapped in tight the baby wailed. 

“ROSE? Is Rose okay?”

Spoiler looked up, swallowing her horror, she stared at the woman, who could not open her eyes for a good reason. Glass, shards of glass were impaled in her skin.

“Ma’am”, she kept her voice steady, “Can you hear me?”

“Yes! Yes! Is my baby okay?”

“Yes, Can you tell me your name?” Spoiler continued.

“Paramedics are inbound”, Oracle assured.

“Jackie, my name is Jackie”, the driver sounded more like she was reminding herself rather than stating a fact. Her hands trembled, fingers still firmly gripping that padding of the steering wheel.

“You are doing good, the paramedics are on the way”, Steph turned to the side, watching as a civilian approached.

“I’m a doctor”, the person said, and from their look, Steph wasn’t sure if the person had a gender identification, “Gotham general”. The lifted ID was quickly scanned by Oracle who sent Spoiler an all clear. 

“Do you need help?” Voices called out, all more then happy to help. Perhaps this is why the day shift is a one man operation, people are more than happy to help. Just in time too as one of the bank robbers stumbled out the other vehicle. 

“I got this”.

Handcuffs placed, weapons seized, Jackie and Rose loaded onto an ambulance. Spoiler left the scene.

Saturday Evening- Sam Manson

Do not disturb sign on the door, frequency jammer (Fenton Jammer- patent pending) set up, homework laid out in a manner that showed work happening and with ease of access. Perfect. Knock, Knock-knock. 

“Come in, Val”, that knock was a small signal, but they were also waiting for her.

“Sorry I’m late”, Valerie replied, “Carol was late to take over my shift, again”. The bag ended up on the floor and Valerie rummaged about making her own set up.

With misplaced smugness, Tucker began explaining the levels of security he implemented for the call as well as the rest of their devices: “Tecnus and Me…”

“I”, Sam corrected him.

The boy rolled his eyes, “Tecnus and I have finished the additional firewalls on your devices. You are welcome”. He plopped down on the floor, laptop out, ear phone tuned into a GIW frequency to ensure no chatter. 

“I still can’t believe Fenton isn’t actually a Fenton!” Val added, checking her reflection in the mirror, spotting something on her cheek and wiping away with a tissue. “I mean, he does look like them, right?”

“Kinda, then again when people see blue eyes and black heir and rarely look further than that”, Sam clarified, “It’s why everyone suspects that Mr. Wayne is actually the bio dad of all of his adopted kids”. Her phone buzzed, “Finally!”

The vide call connected, Danny’s face taking up the screen. He looked the same, that goofy smile, his hair in that ridiculous brushed to the side manner, he wore the all too familiar shirt. 

“I half expected to see you in a suit”, Tucker said, “Sup dude”.

“Hey, Tuck- yeah, they are getting made or tailored or something”, he rubbed the back of his neck, it was the same voice but his speech was a little different, a little more calculated and weary. Like an actor who messed up in stage, his speech changed, sounding much closer to Damian’s manner of speaking, a distant look in his eyes made Danny seem further away than just a couple of state lines. 

“I was joking, Danny!”

“Monkey suits?” Sam raised an eyebrow, “At least you are getting a say”. The last pink monstrosity from her parents was quickly rendered useless by a pair of garden sheers. 

“Are you going to show off your new room or what?” Val turned the phone to face herself.

“You guys need to see this!” The camera view turned around, showing a painted sky on the ceiling, lights flickered off and she was left in awe of the speckling of stars that spread above. It was nothing like the glow in the dark stars assembled in constellations, but the idea was similar, only now with depth and feeling of lying below the fast open sky. Even then, Sam was pretty sure the full effect of it could only be seen in person, or herbals recorded by a high definition camera.

Sam whispered: “Ancients, Danny, who…”

“Damian”, Came the quick reply from behind the camera, he sounded proud, happy and was probably wiping a tear,  “he promised me the stars in the sky when we were little”. He was giggling, happy, “I guess he found a way to do that”. The video flipped back, Danny was in the dark, audibly rummaging around for something, a light switch.

“Okay, show off”, Tucker tutted, arms crossed as he fell back into Sam’s pillow pile, “Leave us plebeians behind”.

The light came on and Danny was on the screen again, he wasn’t looking at them. The audible steps and faint glow in Danny’s eyes looked dangerous. That same look he occasionally gave Dash. The steps happed, his facial expression changed so fast it almost gave Sam whiplash.  “Oh you don’t know the half of it”, he smirked.

A photo dropped in the messenger. Opening it up, Sam’s eyes went wide: “Is that my grandma?”

“Partying it up with my grandmother- yes”.

Sam stared at the wide shot, there in the foreground, talking with hors d’oeurves in their hands are Martha Wayne and Ida Manson. She could tell that Martha Wayne was a bit younger, more from her style of clothes and hair than anything else. 

“Baba said your family sounded familiar”, Danny added. 

“I’ll ask gran later”, Sam made a mental note, they listened to Danny ramble about everyone in the family, the food, their plans for Ellie and so on.

“So why do you have beef with the Teen CEO?” Tuck asked, “and you can’t say he gives you the creeps, that’s a Vlad thing”.

Danny rolled his eyes, biting his lip. He was hiding something. 

A knock on the door startled the boy to sit up, a smooth voice came on the other side: “Young master Danyal, I believe another delivery of your items has arrived”.

“Sorry guys, gotta go- talk tomorrow?”

As they said their goodbyes, the phone connection ended. 

“He is hiding something, right?” Val asked, her tone hinting at the obviousness. 

“Sure is”, Tuck confirmed, “That was a Danny ‘don’t ask me about it’ face”.

Sunday, 23 September 20XX, early lunch - Wally West/Flash (II)

The pizzas spread out and tablets distributed, the group got to the worst part of handling a JL related case- paperwork. The news channel chatted away in the background, announcing some kind of lex corp merger (notes to investigate later) and news of a group of teens being found on the other side of the country with no memory of how they got there. For a brief second Wally thought the ads started, but it was probably something in the background of one of the shots.

Garth was munching on his vegan monstrosity of a pizza, when he stopped to throw a pillow at Wally, they pointed to Nightwing. The human pretzel was furiously cursing under his breath as he typed with one hand while the other scrolled though messages on his personal phone.

“Hey, Cyborg”, Wally turned to Victor, “anything going on in Gotham? Anything…”

“Anything that is out of Gotham’s norm?” the man replied, his tone suggested he was already looking it up, “nothing really, Spoiler rescued a woman and baby trapped in a car while tying up some bank robbers during the day, but nothing much”.

The sound, a melody that didn’t match the ad for a pain medication caught Wally’s ear once more.

Nightwing gave a thumbs up and continued scrolling on his phone. “HE TOOK THEM SHOPPING?” The furious texting would have broken his phone if the man had powers, they agin, Wally has seen his bestie break things with his bare hands before. He was troubled that he is being left out, he is Dick’s usual venting partner when it came to family matters. Something serious must be going on for a full info lockdown. And it is definitely related to the tracked kids.

“Any birthdays we are missing info on?” Garth stage whispered, his voice sounding strangely melodic. 

Just as Wally stood up he froze, his body stiff and rigid.  The speed force seemed to be a muffled, somewhere just out of reach. The music, a guitar cord now that he can tell had a faint humming.

“Sorry, boys, but I do like my audience mesmerised”, an echoing voice rang in his ear. The entity slowly faded into view: a girl, looking like late teens, potentially early twenties. She hovered above the ground, her hair a bright blue flame resembling a ponytail. 

A panicked grunt escaped Garth.

“Oh, don’t worry, you lot are just bait”, she floated over to the still pretzeled Nightwing, grabbing his phone with a third out she manifested out of no where. Her glowing green eyes scanned them, she smirked,  scrolling through Wing’s contacts, “Say cheese!” Snap, their captor took a selfie and pressed send. She floated around, and Wally could now see how translucent she was when the girl used the third arm to grab a slice a pizza. 

“Mmmm! I missed the taste of grease!”

Chapter Text

Sunday, 23 September 20XX - Danny Wayne/Phantom

Using just enough phasing to stabilise himself and not drop the still boxed model sets of Satellites (including The brand new Watchtower set!). The entire pile was ordered by Baba for Danny to have a healthy hobby to channel. He is supposed to take them to a craft room or clean his own space. Alfred does not touch hobbies, not after the great lost Macaroni art incident everyone keeps referring to.  Right now, Damian is freaking out, Danyal can feel it. He can also feel that Damian is moving further away from him. Placing his new treasures on his desk, Danny goes ghost and chases after Damian. 

Going intangible and invisible just to not freak people out. He passed though bed rooms. He doesn’t know enough about the residents of this house, but the purple covered room is probably Stephanie’s. Ancients save them if she and Sam team up. Hobby rooms: Music room, drawing room, an actual drawing room with more canvases and supplies. A cool game room with… oh he will need to check out that gaming library.  The kitchen , where Jason was sat with a cup of tea. Damian managed to go around Via corridor. The only way left  for Danny to go was down.

So he phased through the floor.

Cave, of course that’s where his (more) professionally trained assassin and (slightly more) experienced vigilante brother headed. He caught up to Damian as the boy put on the protective gear, cape still hanging on it’s mannequin like form. There was a whole row of them that Danny passed by earlier. 

“You know, I’m still surprised Robin is this colourful”, Danny became visible to Damian, arms folded, voice a little more echoing than normal. Damian told him not to manipulate his emotions, but Danny could help picking up on worry and responding with concern. “Not that it doesn’t look good on you, it does”.

“While I am aware of your ghostly complexion, I believe your gear is lacking, Danyal”, Damian slammed the locker shut, lining his pockets with gadgets and weapons, actions more haphazard than they should be. He continued: “Perhaps a revision of your own gear is in order, starting from the lack of proper identity concealment”. 

“I can feel your emotions, brother. While I cannot read your thoughts, I know masks are not what you are so worried about”, Danny switched to Urdu, trying to get Damian to drop the formal speech, “And we don’t know what you will look like in ghost form”. Mentioning his other forms felt like a mute argument, even if Danny was right- Damian always knew how to come out on top, to nail that last nail in the proverbial coffin with facts. Danny had his quips, quick rebuttals and insults.

Damian unlocked his phone and showed it to Danny. The photo, sharp and crisp, a background of the sea visible through panoramic windows, in it were four people frozen mid pose, and in the foreground, waving at the camera…

“Ember?” The flaming hair, guitar and that swirl that could be make up or markings were all god indicators. Not to mention being able to see through her torso. However, it also left Danny with questions that slammed his mind right back into English, “Why is she in Titans tower? This is not her MO!”

“And what is her modus operandi?” Damian asks, fixing the caps to the back of his tunic. The whole thing enveloped him, without the under layer visible it engulfed the Robin colours and hid him. It looked much more intimidating than Plasmis’ silly little vampire get up.

Damian looked confident, but radiated: Panic, Fear and… excited…

Danny wondered if it was a chance to prove himself that excited him, just like missions did when they were younger. A desire that fizzled out for Danny when things were easy, without completion. Maybe now that he had Damian again, he might try at school. Might. Jazz only managed to motivate Danny with a point system that could be used to buy things he wanted- like NASA hoodies.

Perhaps Damian spending that extra year with their grandfather has left a stronger impact on his character. While Danyal got lazy, Damian overcompensated for the lack of a brother. 

“Fine! I’ll help you, I think I have a Fenton-thermos in my room”, Danyal begs an calculating how he should phase to get to his room quickly. 

“Father has it”.

Danny felt gravity crash him to the ground, “Why? What does baba need a Fenton thermos for?”

Meanwhile- Secret secure Justice League safe house.

“Seriously, Bats? That thermos looks normal, no enchantments, no nothing!” Deadman complained, floating around Batman that held up the device. “Plus, I phase through things! Escaping something like that should be easy!”

“Do I have your permission to run this test?” Batman replied, wearing a ghost seeing charm JLD have left available for anyone in the league who needed them. The coin, with bright multicoloured tassels and beads looked strange, a contrast to the Dark Knight’s armour. 

“Bats, please”, Deadman continued poking fun, “you will look stupid when it doesn’t work!”

“Hmmm”.

Deadman stopped, “Fine, I’ll be your ghost guinea pig”. He floated, casting a dramatic pose with hands stretched out to either side. 

Batman did not waste any time, the top came off and Deadman shrieked like a little girl as he got pulled inside. Securing the lid, Bruce stared at the metal cylinder, the glowing indicator on the side that had no right to be a scale and is likely wasting power. He unscrewed the lid, releasing Dead man.

“HOW LONG WAS I IN THERE?”

Batman replied, “thirty two seconds”.

The spectre collapsed on the ground, “I know my perception of time is skewed, but not being able to phase?”, he shivered, creating a distorted image. 

“Hmmm”.

Back to - Danny

Damian shrugged, “Father justifies his actions after the fact, and with little success”. He didn’t bother continuing the conversation as he headed out of the changing room. The combat boots were eerily silent. The questions of ‘why do you walk like that’ rang in Danny’s head, he had to learn to make sound while walking. It was helpful when ghost powers came. And shoes with heavy souls helped, like thrifted Vans.

Danny ran after Robin, completely forgetting he can fly (later he would claim sibling solidarity). They passed the glass case, it’s contents soaked in fear and much more sorrow and heartbreak that Danny winced as he passed it. There was a tinge of familiarity to it. He can guess who it belongs to.

Not now. He shouldn’t be distracted. Even if he is unsure of this Dick character, he seems important to Damian. Ember connecting Danny to Nightwing before the information spread seemed suspicious. He gave her a job of warning the infinite realms….

Oh! The bats on the ceiling are looking very cute.

Not now!

“So, which plane are we taking? Sorry, which bat plane are we taking?” Danny asks, he doesn’t have the GAV at hand right now, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try other vehicles. Not to mention he now knew exactly why he knew how to drive, a fact that bewildered Jazz, Sam and Tucker.

“We aren’t, or Gordon will be aware of our movement”, Damian reached yet another set of stairs and began running down.

“Okay?”

“Besides, I know a faster way”, a pair of glowing yellow eyes opened up behind Damian.

“Goliath!” 

Tongue, slobber and drool covered him, sticking his white gravity defying hair even higher up. When Damian introduced his Hellbat, Danny was ecstatic.  

“He can reach speeds equivalent to a high powered jet”, his brother explained, “do you need an oxygen mask?”

Danny looked at himself, his simple hazmat wearing Phanton form in it’s full eerie ghost glory. “I like to breathe, but I don’t have to? It’s a phycolohgical thing because of the whole Half dead and half alive deal”.

Dami gave a curt nod and climbed onto the beast, Danny slipped behind him, wrapping his arms around his brother’s torso, a vague memory of rigging four wheelers or horses. The hellbat began his running start, heading down a tunnel that got wider and wider until the light greeted their faces and Goliath spread his wings, taking off in flight. They rose above the cloud line, sun in their eyes. It felt amazing, or would have, it they weren’t flying to danger.

Sunday, 23 September 20XX - Nightwing/Dick Grayson-Wayne

Muscles stiff, his jaw was clenched far too tight for comfort. Really didn’t want to go to the dentist for something like this. Victor was probably running simulations, but knowing ghost interference on electronic equipment, the chances that his electronic components are not sending out clear messages is high. Oh, he was sure this was a ghost. From the transparent body to the floating- it all reminded him a bit much of Deadman. This is why you need a magic user on a team. He cursed on the inside that they decided not to bother Raven.

They should have bothered Raven.

“You know, this place is kinda dull”, the girl floated by, stopping right before Victor, “and you remind me of my ex”.

Surprisingly enough, Flash is struggling to break free too.  Whoever this is- they are likely targeting Danyal. So how did they know about the tower? That Dick would be here? He didn’t know he would be here! If only he had a hint as to who this is. A weakness maybe? A potential goal? Everyone is driven by their own internal logic. 

“Okay, I’m bored”, the melody changed.

At first, Dick wasn’t sure what changed.

“How are you doing that?” Garfield spoke.

He spoke. Their mouths were free.

“Oh, this is nothing, I once brainwashed a whole state of teens. Not sure if meant to do that”- she shrugged, like she admited to breaking a mug by accident “-I mean, adoring fans are minions to some extent?” She landed on the ground, third arm gone as she struck a cord.

Brainwashing teens? It was vaguely familiar, some case Tim had to shelve due to lack of evidence. He did have one- a CD cover.

“Amber?” He guessed, the name vaguely readable in the font. His memory has also been a little weak today. Not surprising considering Dick got slammed against a wall mid fight . Possible concussion. Minor. Will see Alfred later.

The ponytail exploded in intensity: “My name is EMBER!”

“Well done, wing”, Gar sighed. 

Bad habits die hard, and this is a habit of smack talk has been beloved in high stress situations. He looked outside, a red dot was getting larger  in the sky. Oh great, Bruce does not know we are being held hostage and that both of his youngest are flying right into danger. Great. Not feeling the aster.

The red creature flew up, and Dick vaguely tracked an argument between Cyborg and BeastBoy when a pair of white boots phased through the floor. Danyal/Phantom let go of Robin who landed on the floor without a sound, Phantom remained floating.

“Ah! Finally, you have arrived, Your Majesty”, Ember preformed a deep bow.

Instantly Phantom flinched, fists clenched.

Ember looked up, smiling a thin toothless smile, “I do apologise for my actions.. and so on”, she continued waving her hand at Dick and his friends, still frozen. “But how else was I supposed to issue a challenge for an official duel”, she reached into her back pocket and held out a scroll that had a menacing green glow.  

“Ancients”, Danny grabbed his head, white gloves blending together with the white hair, “Really? Now?”

Dick cursed on the inside. Official and duel were never a good combo, as much as his experience with Intergalactic politics showed. He had no idea what it meant for ghosts. And the title ‘Majesty’ made the situation even more precarious.

“Oh, do not worry, Baby pop, I don’t want the throne. I am challenging-“ she paused with her finger pointing directly at Damian, “-him”.

The temperature dropped, “What?” Phantom hissed.

“Has Clockwork not told you the rules?” Ember floated smug, her guitar floating freely in the air as she crossed her arms on her chest.

“That I cannot intervene?” Danny asked through gritted teeth, slowly approaching Ember. 

Her smile spread wider, “and?” She floated away, keeping an equal distance as she glared at her opponent. They created a circular motion.

“That I need to ensure it runs to completion with no interference of others… Completion can be anything from surrender to… ending one of the sides”. Ending sounded bad when Danyal spoke, the word seemed to be soaked with fear.

“Chop chop, my king!” The ghost stopped dead in her tracks. Then shot upwards, heading for the helicopter landing pad on the roof, dropping her hold on the present titans. They all looked incredulously at Robin and Phantom. Dick knew he had to discharge the situation quickly, even if his little brother is about to fight the rocker ghost.

“What did all of that mean? No records provided by the JLd have mentioned anything of the sort!” Vic spoke first, his eye flicking as he scanned some database.

“Because the previous ghost king was a tyrant and got locked up!” Phantom exclaimed grabbing his head and floating up to land his feet on the ceiling. “This is just great! Fabulous!”

Dick turned to Damian, who was watching his twin pacing: “And do you know why she is challenging you specifically?”

“Ttt”, oh great, he is going to hide something, “no”.

“Is that an ‘I don’t know’ or an ‘I have no idea’?” Dick asked again.

“There is a difference?” Garth stage whispered.

“The second”, Damian replied.

“Dude, the first is definitive and the second is vague”, Wally clarified, now standing next to Nightwing after taking a run around to stretch his muscle and use up energy. He eyes gravitated up to the ceiling and the barely teen boy walking in circles, muttering curses in languages that seemed to blend together in a strange cacophony, “‘Kay, I am guessing this is what you and the Big Bat are keeping secret?”

Phantom’s glowing green eyes snapped to Wally. That eerie Lazarus green, a face that was so familiar yet so foreign to Dick.

Damian was at his throat with his katana: “You will not speak of this!”

“I don’t appreciate the threat”, Nightwing spoke calmly, not looking down at the shrimps assassin child, “but I do agree that the secrecy is still in power until B says coast clear”. He clapped his hands together with a warm smile, as Damian putting away the weapon.

Ten years ago in the past- Ellie

Invisible, hiding in a filing cabinet, no functional ghost tech available. And yet the cigar smoking woman seemed to be glaring right at her. Could she feel her stare? Was she sensitive to ectoplasmic beings? Ellie was glad she didn’t need to breathe right now, but then again would have been a good way to calm her nerves.

“The Ghost experts want to split from the rest of the monster hunters?” The woman asked, pressing a button on her Phone. Her voice gruff, a little hoarse from the smoking.

“Yes ma’am”.

The woman took another puff and Ellie was glad she couldn’t smell it, “And they don’t want to join the MIB?”

“Agent Waller, they are basing their entire work of a set of papers published by a couple of.. Drs. Fenton?” The voice on the other line was unsure, “It is a very lose interpretation of their work, in my professional opinion”.

Waller pressed a different button, “So, will I need to manage these knuckleheads?”

“No, ma’am, they already filed to be a new agency”.

“Let them”, she replied, “But they will not have access to the resources of the MIB or MCU, got it?”

“Yes, Agent Waller”.

The line cut off, Walker leaning on the desk, extinguishing her cigar in a porcelain ash tray, “more idiots running around and less work for me”.

Ellie shook, this is the day that the guys in white got established. How much worse would it be if they had more resources? Or would they have been in check? 

She gloated out into the street, waiting for the tall tale sign that a speedster was about to pass through, a speedster who is speeding a bit too much for his first week with powers. Hah. Speedster speeding. It would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying.

Bare feet hit the asphalt, the running shoes were torn to shreds ten years in the future. 

Oh, poor anomaly maker, he tried to slow down, Ellie thought to herself. She already pulled the boy out of a couple of near run ins with the wrong kind of authority. Looking at him now, this is before the new haircut. She plucked the unconscious emerging speedster off the ground to get him back to his timeline before he accidentally made a mess.

Back to: Nightwing

The sunny sky was covered in clouds, slowly turning dark, like a precursor to rain just about to pour. Dick knew this weather well, a Gotham staple, it strangely relaxed him. The same could not be said about the others. They watched Phantom create a barrier of crystal clear ice to contain the fight on the x and z axis. The same could not be said about y. A barrier created by request of Ember.

“I don’t like this, N”, Wally shivered, he held a piece of ice that didn’t break no matter what method he tried. Considering how many ice based villains the Flash family faced, coming across ice he could not break was like finding his own Kryptonite.

“We need someone who is an expert, Raven, Zatanna… Constantine”, Vic planted himself firmly on the ground, “Maybe there is a loophole. Or a way to delay this?”

“Phantom is the expert”, he didn’t want to admit how little he knew of his newest sibling, like his royal status. Majesty meant King! Then again there is Condiment King so just how seriously should he treat this status? Is it power holding, honorary or even decorative?

“And why are we not alerting the league?” Beast boy asked, “How old is this Phantom?”

Dick cursed himself. Inside. He could not afford to show his nerves. Not now. Geez, Bruce, really got that one in there. Damian was about to face an opponent he had no tools to handle. His little brother. His Robin.  

Ember hit a cord, “Alright! Gentlemen, are you ready for a show?”, with the announcement she launched her guitar into the air where it remained, floating. “As the challenger I set the rules. Hand to hand combat! No weapons! But all powers are a go”.

Powers, Dick only scanned the reports but there were no mentions of powers when it came to Damian’s changes. He could only helplessly watch as Robin interned the ice arena.

His opponent landed in-front of him: “Come on, hit me, squirt”.

While Damian is reactive, it usually takes more for him to actually succumb. Otherwise it is a playful attack… as playful as a trained martial artist can be. The teen assassin launched himself at the already dead Rockstar with precision, his fist heading straight for her face. Gar winced, squinting as he anticipated the impact. An impact that didn’t happen. “What gives?”

“Phasing, she made herself intangible”, the echoing voice of Phantom replied, floating above them, watching as Damian tried to swipe at her feet with no results.

Ember only took a step back, mock yawning, “This is a duel, not a dance, Classics”.

Damian was readjusting himself as he fried to aim for her flaming hair instead.

“You can do it, fight me!” Her voice echoed, every slightly louder and uncharacteristically to the open space. 

“Umm, is it even possible to hit someone who is intangible?” Flash watched the fight speed up, Ember taunting Damian at every step. Or at least, that’s what Nightwing has concluded from observing Robin’s reactions. He knew his little brother well, after all- he was his Robin, his partner, his dynamic duo.

“Come on”, she sung louder, “Fight!”

“Is she trying to tire him out?” Cyborg’s question was logical- McLain didn’t land or even attempt to fight Damian. So why did she…

“FIGHT ME!” The sing screaming forced them to cover their ears.

And then, their eyes.

Bright blinding light filled the sky.

Thank you, Lucious Fox for built in protection— Dick noted as the lenses of his mask readjusted back to normal. There was no time to pay attention to his friends. He focused on Robin, or the figure that stood where Robin was. No black hair , gone were the green, yellow and red of the Robin suit, no cape. The combat boots were still there, now black with thick white soles and laces. The top resembled Damian’s red armour re-enforced tunic, now black with white piping, the hood of his cape attacked to it directly. The gloves were now black. There was no R on his chest, simply a circle, as if waiting for an emblem.

“Dude”, Wally, recovering with speedster healing spoke, “is that… your brother?”

Dick couldn’t deny it, after all, he could now see Damian’s mask-less face now framed with hair white as snow. He breathes heavily, taking in a lot of air, creating puffs of wind. 

“Hello, Classics!” Ember shouted, “come on! I don’t have all day!”

Ember- Some time ago

An endless void, navigating it is more of a following a hunch kind of deal. Ember let let flame burn bright, fueled by the idea of her costume for the upcoming ghost crash. This time they went with an industrial theme to appease worker ghost. Ember didn’t mind, most crowds would fuel her for a while if they liked the show.

Costumes helped. Which was why her hands were full of a plastic bag of reject supplies from home depo. She knew a gal who could get anything ghost side.

Debating whether overalls would be too country or if overalls will take away from her performance, Ember spotted something out of the corner of her eye. A core surrounded by a field of ectoplasm that was trying to take form. She froze, watching the scene. It was rare to catch a ghost forming, let alone in parallel with their physical death. Usually things like this occur for manifested beings, like Undergrowth.

Arms with blue stretched out, a body clad in a black outfit, legs with combat boots and a head of hair like freshly fallen snow. Gasp. The ghost gasped for air, air he didn’t need as there were no lungs to speak off. The ghost convulsed and Ember, Ember felt bad for the poor youngling. Ailments like this can only be solved with the mind thinking it is okay. An idea came causing her hair to sparkle. She fug through her bag, looking for…

“I have it!” She exclaimed, pulling out a white mask with four filters used by painters to not breath in fumes. She rushed at the ghost, “Let me help”. The boy, well, she assumed boy, looked up at her with his glowing light blue eyes, glowing. Ember used the opportunity to slide the mask over his mouth and nose.

He imitated two deep breaths as he grabbed hold of the mask.

She treaded carefully, setting off a fresh new ghostie can cause trouble, “Got a name?”

The blank look on his face was a good enough no.

“What kind of music do you like?”

Chapter Text

Sunday, 23 September 20XX - Damian/ ?????

Air, breathing felt absolutely wonderful, his limbs felt much lighter and he could sense every molecule surrounding him. Damian’s eyes trailed their audience, all staring at him in stunned silence. All but one. He could also sense Shock, Surprise, Happy that Danyal spread out loud through his core.

“Hey! Don’t intervene!” Ember shouted, sending waves of angry, upset and… fun.

Damian’s mind reconnected to a memory, a moment of quiet, quiet of two ghosts battling it out in the vastness of the ghost zone. All in the name of healthy development.

“He didn’t say anything?” Beast boy asked Nightwing. It was a whisper, but to Damian the sound was clear, as if it was whispered in his own ear. 

He reached out to the air, grabbing hold of the moving winds. His palm slapped the  molecules, sending a wave of vibration to his opponent. All powers are allowed, by her own rules. The air cascaded, loosing some power as it hit Ember in a gentle breeze, making her hair flicker out for a brief moment before re-igniting with force.

“Why you!” Ember dashed to him through the air.

“How strange”, Damian pondered out loud, “for a ghost to have more tactical advantage in the world of the living”. His mind could not quite comprehend the ease with which his hands manipulated the most basic element around him- gas. Nitrogen, oxygen, argon, carbon dioxide- the prominent components among others, all controlled by instinct. And he could shove it in people’s faces like a weapon. 

Paying attention he flew backwards, just missing Ember’s kick about to hit his torso. Memories of lessons with the ghost were coming back to him. Brawls with other ghosts. Concerts.

“The trick to hitting a phased opponent”, Damian spoke in Ember’s voice, eyes focused on the target of his attack, creating the momentum required. He continued, “Is to phase-“ the speed was perfect, just ad he had done many times before “-and-“ his fist was at the centre of her form “-re-solidify  on impact!”

It connected, hitting Ember right in the stomach. She folded in half like a rag-doll, her point of impact creating a vector along which she flew back. “Ughhh!” Her feet planted onto Danyal’s ice. She hurled, green glowing ectoplasm spilling onto the helipad. 

“He got a hit!” Wallace cheered somewhere. 

Wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand, “Finally-“ McLain’s voice was chocked as she coughed, “an actual fight”. She rolled her neck, instead of cracking you would expect from bones, it lulled at an unnatural angle in a full circle before returning to an upright position.

Damian heard a faint sucking in of air, short and sharp.

“You have chosen hand to hand, McLain, though that is not your specialty?”

“Oh!” Ember clutched her chest, rising to his level, “Back to McLain? You hurt me to the core~~~!” She held the note, singing, igniting her flames brighter. Air reverberated around her.

Nightwing and his associates collapsed to their knees one by one, with Cubor’s metal legs holding out the longest. Phantom froze himself upright, hands covering his ears in an attempt to mitigate the acoustic impact. Not that it would help, it affects ectoplasmic being on a core level. Or perhaps the physical part of his body, his flesh mitigates that? Damian tested the theory by manipulating sound currents and isolating his ears. It worked to his surprise.

And his surprise worked to Ember’s advantage.

Ember had him in a choke hold, her had beached for his head. The gasps and flinching movements of their aérienne hit his ears. These guys are so dramatic. 

“Noogie!”  The energy dissipated as her knuckles ruffled Damian’s hair. That’s how they always ended their fights. The looser got their hair ruffled with the victor’s knuckles- a noogie. 

“I surrender”, he tried to get out of his mentor’s grip but the girl held firm, “You are the clear winner”.

“It’s been a while, Tempest, let me enjoy this”. Ember backed away, her black lips spreading into a soft smile, “I can still call you that?”

The name felt wonderful, like a cold drink on hot summer day, or a gentle breeze, “It is acceptable”.

Wallace “Wally” Rudolph West/Flash II

Anyone who knew the newest Robin of the bat brood would not call him a friendly face. Don’t get it wrong- the kid had many good qualities. But physical contact and social interactions were not on that list. (Wally observes Damian and Ember)

“Hey! And you gave me a hard time!” Phantom exclaims, rushing at Robin and squeezing him so tight his form collapsed slightly. The ghost pulled back, “You don’t have a mask either!”

Robin cocked his head to the side, in that silent Batman like manner, except his face was fully visible making his blank facial expression more unnerving. His hand reached behind him, pulling the hood over his head. The scene defied laws of physics: the eyes stayed visible but the hood cast a shadow that fell on his face in a shape vaguely resembling his Robin mask.

“Your big bro has style, Baby pop”. The conversation went quiet between them, except for the playful shoving match between the ghostly beings. Flash did feel some kind of vibrations coming off them.

“Is it a language?” He asked.

Nightwing was standing still observing. Or at least that is what it looked like to anyone else. In reality he was using his own mask to record everything. As much as Dick says he is not like Batman- the man’s behaviours have rubbed off. Wally knows where this ones comes off exactly as Uncle Barry started sharing pictures with Aunt Iris that Wally never knew existed. Dick and Wally arguing over homework, the sleepover where the teen titans watched a movie beyond their age range. Wally now looked out for the spaced out pose, the stiff posture and a watchful eye of any bat adjacent vigilante. 

“It is”, Phantom confirmed, hands grabbing at Robin’s hair and receiving the exact same treatment in return, the two tumbled through the air in a pointless scuffle.

“Ah, to be young”, their captor floated to their side in an overly familiar manner. Ember landed on her feet, now clearly a young girl, probably just on the cusp of adulthood. Seeing her face reminded Wally of so many young lives lost before their time, of potential.

“And how old are you?” Garfiel asked.

“Oh, I was nineteen when I died”, her tone sounded perfunctory when she waved them off, “But that was back in nineteen-eighty-something. By the way- most ghosts are not mentally stable enough to answer something like that. And it was hypothermia, incase you are wondering, no need to avenge me or some BS”.

Cyborg was discretely running some kind of facial recognition, or at least trying to. Trying to ping a face out of a distorted image would not give exact results, and there is probably no database for the deceased, but memorial social media posts could provide a connection.

The two tumbling ghosts were within reach. Ember’s arms stretched unnaturally, grabbing both like kittens by their scruff. “Knock it off. First off, your Majesty-“

Phantom’s phase contoured into a grimace.

“-your look is kinda basic, both compared to Tempest here and what little Phantom is working with these days. I mean- her hair is all over the place, ragamuffin style, but she made herself a cute fit”. She glared: “You gotta work on yours”. 

She tossed Phantom right at Nightwing. The boy smashing against his chest with a grunt.

“And now your business is with me?” Robin… Tempest asked.

“Your stuff is clogging my storage”, she clicked her fingers twice, making her guitar fly to her, only now it was inside a case. To it was attached another, a white violin case, it unclipped like a key chain and remained floating in the air.  “I do want a rematch”, soft, kind, friendly, hinting at a much less violent rematch.

Phantom huffed, “And how are you getting back to the Ghost Zone? The portal is back in Illinois”.

Alfred Pennyworth

The twins showed their differences once more. Master Danyal had the decency to look a little ashamed of his actions, though whether he regretted his behaviour or simply did not enjoy being the cause of distress for others was left up to debate. Furthermore, he showed his distain to specific comments with an exaggerated eye-roll. Damian saw this moment as a chance to prove himself, however, his previous attempts have taught him to wait for the charges applied before he has to argue his case.

Master Dick explained the situation calmly, saying how he and his friends were used in an attempt to lure out Damian, even if he assumed the target was Danny at first. “What I want to know is-“ he started counting from his index finger “-why does she call you ‘King’?”

Danny shifted awkwardly, “Amity park got dragged into the ghost zone by Pariah Dark, I had to challenge him in single combat… and by defeating him I gained the title of Ghost King…” The child looked up, “That was all it took to get the title… I didn’t know and no one wants it, it’s mostly ceremonial considering my age”.

Master Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, likely wishing he had a stiffer drink than tea in his mug, but he has a full agenda for the evening. Not including patrol. “We will discuss that in more detail later, Danyal”, he looked at the child, “Are you likely to be challenged or hurt by it?”

Danny shook his head violently, “No, but if the Guys in White find out, they could use me. Mom and Dad got extra worried, considering that by controlling me they will not need to control ghosts individually”.

“Great, the government is more dangerous”, Dick looked at the counter surface but settled to sitting crossed legged on the bar stool. He lifted a second finger, “Why did Ember target you, little D?”

“Ttt! She did not target me, she helped me”.

“Master Damian”, Alfred placed a plate before him and an identical one I front of Master Danny, “I suspect there may be a cultural difference? Similar to what you experienced when you fist came home”.

“Fighting is the main way of communication for ghosts, that and core speak”, Danny poked the desert with a dessert fork, his eyes lighting up with recognition and realisation at the crackle and crumble of the shredded phyllo dough, watching the sweet cheese ooze out from the gentle push down. Alfred made a mental note of other dishes and snacks he should include in the roster, seeing as the knafeh is a success.

Master Dick snickered as he looked at Damian, “Is that so?”

The boy glared back, “Ember was there when I took form in the ghost zone and acted as my guide”.

Oh, Alfred halted along side masters Bruce and Dick. Ember was the first one Damian met upon his passing. He was not alone, and judging from his choice of words- acted as a familial figure. His mind filled with memories of the simulations, how easy it could have been to stop the young master. Master Damian’s eyes were wide as he glanced at each adult present in turn, his face more troubled with each look.

Master Danyal grabbed his brother, stuffing his face between his neck and shoulder, he whispered instructions on breathing techniques. He glared, “It will take time, ignoring it takes time”.

Master Damian suddenly pushed Danyal away and ran. 

“Damian!” Master Dick stood up, but was held down firmly by a hand. 

“Stay out of it!” Master Danyal shoved Master Dick to master Bruce, making both men tumble back, staring at the teenager floating through the ceiling.

Tucker Fowley

His phone rang, the tone was chosen specifically for his best friend, who was now miles away. “Tucker foley speaking”, he did the fake phone receptionist voice, “How may I direct your call?”

“Tuck, I need advise”, Danny’s voice trembled on the other line, a certain ghostly echo and static that was audible to those in the know.

A thousand scenarios formed in Tuck’s mind, starting from the accidental slip to Danny being under attack by a Gotham rogue, “Danny, are you in Phantom form right now? What about the Waynes?” He was in now way able to help himself, but Tucker knew tales of Batman’s Eye in the sky, the mysterious Oracle who guided bats and birds. Perhaps he could get a message out.

“How did you get me to calm down?” Danny asked.

Tucker stopped typing, his mind shifting from the DEFCON ONE scenario he built up in his mind to a conserved friend: “What exactly happened?”

“His core development, Tuck, it’s like he skipped stages two through five and landed somewhere between six and seven”.

“He woke up with a fully functioning core? Can he transform?”, Tuck remembers how Jazz suggested breaking down Danny’s development in their timeline to stages. Some landed much longer, like Danny getting his core abilities, his ice elemental powers which was labeled stage three. Stage one was the shortest- the clumsy phase of using powers and slipping them in in human form. 

Six is categorised by being able to hear and understand ghost speak, seven lead to being able to hear emotions of liminal beings. For Danny, it lead to panic attacks as he could no longer identify his own emotions in the cacophony of liminals. 

“Yes to both, though point two hit a complication, Techraoh”, oh, he is serious, switching to Tucker’s alias. A combination of TECHnology and phaRAOH that Sam called ‘lazy and thoughtless’.

“Yikes”, he opened the file, he knew his own notes, “I did a lot of breathing exercises with you, umm- a white noise machine helped but all Amity Tech is ecto infused to some level so that could have helped”.

A door slammed open on the other end, “I need to find him before that”.

“Yeah, I’m getting to Ja… her notes”, he scrolled through, “it says she found you surrounded by all your stuff, under the bed, like a cocoon of familiarity or something?”

There was silence on the line, a deep sigh, “Oh… thanks!”

The line cut off, leaving Tucker staring at his laptop. “So… Bruce Wayne knows or…”.

Damian Thomas Wayne/Robin/Tempest

Heavy limbs, he pressed closer to his source of comfort. The smooth scales and firm muscles of the giant dragon, not to mention the quiet. His emotions were there, but they were not intense. A comfortable conversation of happy, proud, comfort. The noise of his father, Richard and Alfred, that feeling everyone radiated was overwhelming. Damian already watched people’s micro-expressions, a habit he developed in the League. Continuing to try and predict people’s actions was overwhelming, it was easier to provoke them.

Now he felt them directly: Alfred’s worry, tinged with guilt and relief; father’s guilt, grief and sadness, Richard’s shame. That shame was overbearing and paralysing. Damian was taught to stand his ground, to be in charge, but he could not. Not with Richard.

“There you are”, Danyal’s echoing whisper entered the cave, Damian caught a glimmer of light.

Wiggle rustled ever so slightly, not disturbing too much of that perfect coil.

“Whoa”, Danyal was ecstatic as the dragon offered his tail to him, bringing him to Damian in the centre of the curl, “He’s amazing… and so kind”.

Damian smirked, “And a powerful ally”. His fingers rubbed the scales softly, eliciting a rumble similar to a feline purr from the dragon. Danyal watched, them carefully imitated the gesture.

“His name is Mr Ryujin Wiggle, right?” 

“Yes”.

Danyal snorts, an action that sounds so unnatural for their refined etiquette training, “Of course you would give a full name”.

“Just don’t call him Noodle, that’s a Grayson thing”, Damian caught himself of guard, he already demoted Richard to Grayson in his mind.

“Mmm, he is too much”, Danyal radiated a brief pang of irritated. “I never thought there could be anyone to overwhelm me emotionally without it being their plan!” 

Damian agreed by nodding, he tries to shut it off, but he never needed to in the ghost zone. At all. He knew how to protect himself normally, as a living human, do not interact, do not build connections, do not expose your soul. Now, he can’t shut it down. He doesn’t want to either. 

“You need to”, his brother read his mind, “It’s not god for our living bodies, too much information to process according to Frostbite. Just, go ghost for a sec”.

Damian did not argue, he thought of the feeling, the release of energy that absorbed his physical body and converted mass into pure energy. Easier, it felt easier, he remembered the emotions for a brief moment and then…

“Digested it yet?” Danyal’s words hit like a fist to punching bag, force, yet, but a predictable one. “I had to sneak into the school bathroom to do it once Jazz figured out I got calmer after going ghost”.

Damian thought for a minute, “I do not agree with the terminology”.

“Better than process”, his twin shrugged, “Is that a violin case?”

Damian took the white case off his back, opening up the case he saw the item inside, the instrument itself was black like father’s cape with glowing ghostly strings and a bow to match. The item made his heart leap with joy as he placed it on his shoulder and adjusted his posture. 

Shostakovich second Watz, he began to play, closing his eyes for a moment and let the energy fill him, forgetting the reactions of Alfred, Father and Grayson. Playing as a ghost was different, he did not need to plan acoustics, he was the acoustics. A wave of Curious, worried and positive radiated from the cave, soft and gentle like a blanket. Cassandra waved at them from the cave entrance. Her posture changed instantly as she stood on point on the uneven cave floor, she began to dance. Probably came to the cave without changing.

Wiggle released an amused huff, watching the performance and leaning into Danyal’s pets. Cassandra spun and leaped, each action full of elegance and grace in improvisation, adjusting to Damian’s more emotional playing style that was unlike his usual metronome like performance.

Damian lifted the bow, feeling instantly lighter when he heard a soft delicate clapping. In the corner, a dark shadow stood, taller than most human women, certainly taller than Jason or Dr Jack Fenton. The woman was gaunt and dressed in a black beaded dress that stopped just above her ankles. Her nails were long and black, in a style as those long acrylics applied for fashion and self expression that had no practical use. Her face was obstructed by a wide brimmed hat with a beaded fringe acting as a veil, that she lifted her chin ever so slightly to show her mouth, red, blood like lipstick on her lips parted, revealing a fanged smile as she vanished.

But her emotions radiated even after she left: Joy, Pround, Welcome.

Cassandra signed: WHO? Her hands spelled it out instead of just using the sign.

“Frostbite told me about them”, Danyal spoke, “A city spirit, the embodiment of Gotham”.

Monday, 24 September 20XX - Danyal Jackson Wayne

Just as Damian suspected, it was highly unlikely that the tailor would be able to prepare a uniform on such short notice. Rich people problems are Danny problems now… again… whatever. They are custom made per student. Luckily for them both- Damian had spares. Gotham Academy was a prestigious school that also had it’s own quirks. What Duke, Tim and Damian explained: in a way- it was it’s own ecosystem. Rumours can spread within the walls that no one outside will ever know. 

He stood before the class, listening to the teacher ramble on about non disclosure agreements. “So, Mr Wayne, would you like to introduce yourself?”

A soft gasp slipped from some of the classmates, others openly began comparing him and Damian. “Good morning”, he greeted the teens, sounding as formal as Damian. He took a deep breath, thinking of all the social awkwardness his brother has and his own. He thought of the classmates back home in Amity and the familiar faces he saw from day to day. Well, he is a rich kid now and he can blame a lot on his condition.

Exchanging one last look with Damian, he continued: “First things first. The name is Danyal, Dan-yal, I’ve had enough of Daniel and that was with amnesia-“ he accentuated with a poignant glare “-if you can’t say it- Danny will do”. Eyebrows creeped up, “Speaking on said amnesia- it has been letting up but I get confused and start mixing languages. Damian can handle me then… usually”.

Danny gave them a brief run down of the backstory they came up with, fire, amnesia, presumed dead, somehow ending up state side. Not once, not once did he slip up. He referred to Damian as Dames, Dami, brother in every language. Not once did he call him his twin. Danyal noticed a couple of fellow students who seemed to catch on, texting away on barely disguised phones that the teacher ignored.

For the rest of the day, he settled in, occasionally getting called Damian or given an assessment while sat in the same class. The school had a note to keep them in the same class, officially for Danny’s sake, unofficially for Damian’s. The thought of powers emerging in the worst moments troubled their Baba. And yet…

“Nothing happened?” Duke asked, slipping into the shotgun seat of the car, looking over at the back row.

“NOTHING!” Danny raised his voice in exasperation, hands in the air, body sinking into the plush interior. “I have suffered so much humiliation and-“ he points at Damian  “-nothing.”

“Perhaps you are simply in luck”, Alfred announced, “Perhaps you are given a chance to teach these skills in a controlled environment”.

Danny could feel Damian radiating proud right beside him, “He does slip up with the eye thing!”

Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayal! 

The car ride was pleasant, though Danny was aware that Alfred’s manoeuvring was not a straight line. A voice softly warned him of changes the butler was about to make. Female, a little airy and deep, like a movie star from the golden age of cinema. An ecto entity, his mouth released a wisp of icy breath. 

“Alfred, we should take the next turn”, Danny conveyed the being warning as calmly as he could.

Pennyworth turned smoothly, letting the car join the flow, mixing in. 

“Dude! What was that?” Duke asked, “I saw that in the mirror!”

“You saw his breath, Thomas?” Damian asked, scoffing, “Have your powers expanded in their reach to breath related phenomena?”

“It was glowing, Thomas”, Duke addressed Damian by his middle name.

”Ttt”.

“So I breath out a higher concentration of ectoplasm than my surroundings? I will need to tell mom”, Danny made the mental note.

“What was that?” Duke insisted.

“A hint from the city spirit?” Danny paused, feeling the confusion coming off Duke and Alfred, “You didn’t know about her?”

“Father has theorised the likelihood of the existence of a city spirit from his study of old texts as well as information from his… associates”. Damian’s eyes met Alfred through the rear view mirror, “And she showed up in the cave last night”.

Duke broke the uncomfortable silence that followed, “Well that puts an end to the perimeter of Gotham city debate”.

Chapter Text

Monday morning, 24 September 20XX, post Patrol - Richard “Dick” Grayson-Wayne

“We need to talk”, Danyal’s glowing eyes stared at him from the shadows, his voice cold and cutting. The air had a distinct chill. He emerged into the fluorescent light in human form, wearing a simple set of pyjamas and fuzzy slippers. Sound of sipping accompanied his action. The kid now had access to Damain’s grape juice stash. The fact that he did felt like a power move to Dick who almost got stabbed for grabbing one before.

“Ugh… sure”, Dick carefully peeled off his domino mask, releasing the air seal around the edges that will leave a mark otherwise. “Now or can I take a shower?”

Danny took a deep breath and released a loud exhale. A sound that was a perfect match to Damian’s Ttt in energy. “Make it quick, I don’t want an audience“. He trudged out to the staircase, looking adorable as he stomped away, purposefully making noise to show his dissatisfaction as the slippers plopped on the cold metal.

Dick preformed the routine in record time, if he was to say so. Though applying facial creams and lotions to keep up that rich person soft skin look was a hassle. He dressed himself in some old sweatpants and a t-shirt, letting his body relax and loose tension. 

Now in the manor, the light of one room caught his eye. It was one of the sitting rooms used to entertain guests, most often reporters,  a larger one that had plenty of distance between the couches. A room filled with a soft and false sense of letting sone in on your personal space. Danyal sat cross legged in an arm chair, clearly signalling to not come close. His left leg shook with a nervous rhythm as he glanced up at Dick. His hair just a bit longer and much messier, strangely reminding Dick of himself at that age. 

“Sorry I shoved you”, Danny spoke, a sincere apology, a soft voice.  

Dick wanted nothing more than to stretch out on the couch, to relax and think of his drive to Blud as a tomorrow problem

“But you had it coming”, the intonation change was sharp.

“What?”, he felt the need to sit at attention, as if he was getting one of B’s ‘I’m disappointed” talks after a fight at school.

Danyal leaned back, looking down at Dick from the tip of his nose despite being way shorter. “You set him off with all you emotions, and your liminal status makes it that much worse!”

“Danny…” he tries to interrupt the impending rant. 

“Right now, Damian has skipped multiple stages of development and landed into hypersensitivity!” Danyal’s hands were in the air, with grand exaggerated motions, “For someone taught to ignore his own emotion, how do you think he will handle emotions of other people beating on his noggin?” 

“Umm…” Dick actually had no idea how to respond, feeling confused and frustrated as his newest brother used an accusatory tone.

“That!” Danyal pointed at him, floating off the chair by half an inch, eyes glowing again, “You have so many emotions! You think you have them bottled up, but no! You are a walking vat of nasty burger sauce and when you reach critical temperature and explode, Damian will be in the blast radius whether he physically is or not!”

Dick desperately wanted to de-escalate the situation, to calm Danyal down. He grasped at pieces of the conversation: “Burger sauce? What? Dan, you are not making any…”

Dick knew instantly he grasped at the wrong straws somewhere.

The temperature dropped, he could see his breath in the air as Danyal’s rambling stopped, “Never. Do not EVER call me by that name!” He shouted as he stormed out of the room.

Dick remained sat on the couch, feeling chilly and uncomfortable, “Are you making a note of that, Tim?” 

Tim slid into the room quietly, not surprising for the boy who stalked Batman and Robin, the boy who figured out their identities. “Dosen’t like you too?”

Too, that word spoke more than anything. If Danny didn’t like anyone the emphasising would would have been either. This meant that Danyal has singled out him and Tim, there is a factor they possess that puts both in an unfavourable position. Dick shook himself off, “I am still stuck on that burger sauce analogy, what in the world is a Nasty Burger?”

“According to the internet”, Tim scrolled on his phone, making an obvious grimace as he began typing furiously, “it is a relatively small Burger chain in Illinois, there is a location in Amity Park”.

“Can’t judge them, batburger offers to ‘Jokerise you fries’-”Dick groaned, imitating the voice of a tired batburger employee “- Does the sauce go bad at specific temperatures?”

“They have a secret recipes kind of seal on it”. Tim shrugged, shoving Dick as he sat next to him, “I guess it worked, or maybe not”.

“What did?”

“Staying calm and radiating calmness, or maybe Danyal was too focused on you to notice me”.

Tuesday, 25 September 20XX - Dr Madeline Fenton

The rubber treads stabilised the Ghost Assault Vehicle to the ground, weathering the storm that brewed as the birds circled the football field. Jack was right to ditch the wheels. Teenage boys twice Danny’s size hid and shook, cowering as birds swooped onto the field. Vultures and crows, their voices a cacophony of the same word, the same name over and over again.

“PHANTOM!” The sound was deafening, like a crowd at a sports game, with a sinister accompaniment of a horror movie. 

“Well, Honey bunch”, Jack swirled and slid smoothly into a parallel parking spot that he usually makes a mess of, “we know who he is looking for”.

“I heard”, Maddie loaded her knew ecto-missile launcher loaded with ectoplasmic netting. “There stupid birds are either completely unaware or very stupid to…” she spotted it from the corner of her eye, a camera crew, and their equipment had brand new casing GIW logos all over. She suspected that the GIW got hold of their patent, which is why it didn’t go through for Camera lenses. Yet.

They should have given them a dumber name, made it sound like a toy as they did with everything else. Or created a separate legal entity to register the patent to, but then the government would simply grab it from under them. 

“Maddiekins”, Jack pointed up at a figure, much higher than everyone else. 

She had seen that cape before, and there is not a day when she didn’t blame herself for not following procedure in college. She was foolish, rushing their final project, the potential of success blinding. “Vla….”, no, he can’t know, but they need him away from here, “PLASMIUS! WE SENT PHANTOM OUT OF AMITY AND WE WILL GET YOUR ECTOPLASMIC BEHIND TOO!” She thought of the thermos strapped to her hip, the weight of it was nothing to throw her off balance physically. The emotional weight was more. 

Maddie grit her teeth, it sounded harsh, as harsh as hunting her own child. But growing up in a rural community, her father would ‘hunt her ass down’ for the smallest of infractions. Her friends used those phrases metaphorically, none of them feared their parents the way they did. She promised herself she would be better. That her children would not experience the violence that shaped her and Alicia.

“You heard it here first folks!” The news caster spoke, “Our local ghost hunters have successfully gotten rid of Phantom! But how long will it last?” Funny how easily the public is swayed by media, by news and reports with clear bias. And yet, teenagers and kids that are seen as not mature enough have a clear grasp on who the hero of Amity Park is. 

And now better means that Danny is far away. In a city called Gotham where villains get sent to the psych ward. Better than a containment unit in a secret government facility.

A vulture looking creature swooped down towards her. Maddie didn’t dodge. She aimed her net, not shooting the creature down but having their trajectory redirected to miss Plasmius by a hair. She help out against the recoil, her heels digging into the grassy soil, still soft from last night’s rain.

“You had him, Darling!” Jack tossed her the net refills. He knows full well that was on purpose, a warning shot of sorts, but keeps acting the fool, don’t draw attention of the government.

“Thank you, Honey”, she loads another net, watching Vlad flee as a small blur. “Let’s round up them up!”.

Sometime - Ellie/Phantom ????

Slumped in a corner with a hoodie over her head, Ellie pulled out her bag and the injectors inside. Three. She is down to her last three. The supply she had from team phantom was supposed to last her a long time considering how rarely she needed them. Grabbing a biscuit she placed it in her mouth and let it soak in her saliva, turning into a mushy mess. Gross, but it let her feel full longer as she felt the ecto-injecto do it’s job. Eating in the ghost zone felt more indulgent, which is why her bad was full of free snacks she grabbed from her last trip.

Free by the means of a five finger discount in the government office kitchen. She snickered, wondering how many petty arguments got raid on a refrigerator started. 

Ellie swallowed the mush and looked up at the ghost baby above her, “I just got back, Clockwork, give me a…” choosing her terminology carefully as she spoke with the time being, “Some time to rest”.

“I wish I could, but it is time for you to rejoin Phantom”, the ghost shifted to a young man, offering her hand, “Perhaps our needling had worked too well, for an event occurred much sooner than expected”.

“Oh, I am not getting a heads up in this one, am I?”

“I believe you wished to meet my granddaughter?” Clockwork turned into an old man, stroking his beard, “Your unique abilities are just what she will need in this crisis”.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

“You know her as Wonder Woman”.

She gasped, her excitement radiating louder as she transformed, her hair tied with multiple assorted bands along its confusing length, he fringe clipped back with hair clips that included highlights like Hello Kitty, Minnie Mouse and Black Canary.

“Hmm”, the spirit of time scratched his chin, “Have you though of one? A name of your own? Little phantom might not be a good plan”.

Ellie was debating some options, but Clockworked snapped his fingers. A clock face  drifted to them, the hands turned revealing an image of farmland and a strange crashed ship. Wonder Woman walked the perimeter of a glass dome with some sort of greenery inside. A dome that was visibly damaged.

“I don’t know how to take care of plants?” Ellie replied.

“You know those that do”, he taped her lightly on the shoulder and she crashed through the clock face. Her eyes instantly stinging from sunlight.

“Wha… who is that?”

Friday, 28 September 20XX - Batman

The alien craft was damaged from a chase with thieves, after the previous cargo on board. Hal Jordan remained on Earth, filing a report and studying the damage and helping the alien botanist that was accompanying the cargo. They needed information on how to handle the dome. What kind of materials ante needed and how to continue transportation.

Considering this was clean up, Batman brought along Robin, a first outing now that he has abilities. Abilities he is choosing to not implement as Robin. Damian’s words were: I will not sully Grayson’s mantle with shortcuts such as powers, however they will be useful when the need to for rises. 

Bruce meditated with his son, allowing him to work through building barriers and shielding both himself and others from emotions. Danyal joined them too, calling in ‘Baba bonding’ time. The sessions were short, and usually done on the floor next to the bat computer with Bruce typing away and odd hours. 

“Good news: the translator is working”, Diana aproached. Behind her was Green Lantern Hal Jordan, his feet planted on the ground as he talked to ship’s crew, the light of his ring surrounding the dome.

“Ttt”, Robin appeared next to him, “That implies bad news”.

Diana gave a curt nod, “They were transporting this biomass to revitalise the environment of a planet in another system. The population is suffering and loosing these species that died out on the planet will lead to the planet’s ecosystem loosing any chance of recovery and sustaining life”.

“Hmm… I take it repairing the dome is not a solution”, Batman spoke, he judged from the setting and structure that the whole system was more complicated than it visually lead on.

“The plants are waking up due to access to Earth’s abundant carbon dioxide, if it is starved it will die. They do not have the equipment to make the plants dormant again”.

“How long?” Batman though of all possible resources Earth could offer in an attempt to prevent disaster not only to Earth, but to a planet far away.

“They approximate two earth hours”.

Recreating the device using Earth resources flew out of consideration. He needed experts, perhaps experts outside the recommended pool the Justice League consults on a regular basis. Swamp thing came to mind, as well as a certain chlorophyll in the skin resident of Gotham city. “We need experts. People who may be able to return these plants into hibernation and give us more time to repair their ship”.

Bruce’s planning halted as a green light filled the sky. Green and glowing, not unlike the Lazarus pit, not unlike ectoplasm. When the white haired figure fell through the portal, Batman moved on instinct alone, catching the child. Long white hair contained in a haphazard manner, black clothing, a faint glow radiating off the girl’s body. Her face, looking up at him with big glowing green eyes full of surprise and worry.

“Wha…-“ Batman gave the babbling Hal a glare “- who is that?” The Lantern corrected himself quickly. He straightened out far quicker than any of his kids. Perhaps it was his military test pilot training kicking in.

The teen, Bruce concluded from her size resembling that of her progenitor, stated at the giant glass like dome. Her lips parted as she releases a soft, “huh?”  

“Child”, Wonder Woman approached, her voice soft , “Where did you come from?”

“Ghost Zone”, she replied quickly, floating away from Batman, her eyes glued to the dome as she approached Robin. “And I was sent to ‘help’-“ she spoke, turning sharply to Batman “- What do you need?”

Batman stared at her maskless face, his own cowl assisted in hiding a shocked expression, “To repair the dome and make the plants inside dormant”, he kept himself monotone but caught Robin take a sharp breath. “Do you have a name you go by?”, he asked her.

The not so little phantom sat cross legged mid air, not unlike Phantom, “Polaris, Call me Polaris. And I think I know someone who can help?”

“And what good will that do?” Hal groaned, “we need these people here, and fast. But the Flashes and Supes are all occupied”.

Polaris grinned, raising her hands in the air, voice chipper and excited, sounding closer to her age of creation than the age she presented as: “I can help with that! Who do you need?”

Sam Manson

The glowing portal that looked far too similar to the Ghost Zone portal in the Fenton basement opened up in the middle of her room. Her hand landed on her phone, ready to press the newly installed Ghost Alert app that Tuck created. It was a panic button, sending a message to their close circle plus Danny. Though how quickly Danny could fly here on his own is not something the group tested. She will add it to the itinerary later.

When a head of Snow White hair covered in hair-clips emerged from the portal, Sam wondered for a brief second if Danny got into a battle with a ghost that governs hair accessories. 

“Ellie?” She asked, seeing the more feminine Silhouette of a tight top and lose bottoms that Ellie favoured compared to Danny’s accidental Hazmat suit.

“Hey, I’m back and I need your help”, Ellie landed on her feet, looking around the room. “It’s a plant thing and we need experts”.

“What? I’m no scientist or biologist or botanist or even a herbologist!” Sam started to think of the prominent in the field,  “I have a hobby green house…”

“And you were posses by Undergrowth giving you his blessing and capabilities to manipulate plant life?” Ellie cocked her head to the side, “Experts will run tests, do analysis, want to grow cultures- stuff that takes time! We don’t have time!”

“I don’t have a lot of power”, Sam processed Ellie’s changed speaking pattern, then Ellie was her height now, meeting her at eye level. She looked the same age as Danny. Same are as both the Wayne twins. “And I’ve only made plants go wild before”.

“It’s all hands on deck, Sam! I already brought Swamp thing and Poison Ivy there!”

Oh, Ellie decided to hit where it hurt. The last time Ellie visited, she hid in Sam’s room. A place that was vast and has space to hide in, unlike the ghost (damage) proof Fenton Works. That also means that Ellie found Sam’s secret scrapbook of newspaper clippings and printed out articles that were mostly her two idols. Her personal hope in seeing the ecology restored.

Those hands can phase inside anything.

“I need to put on my disguise”, Sam relented, opening her closet and pulling out a cape repurposed from an old Halloween costume. (Re-use, duh) The her make up, there it was, water activated eyeliner. She wet her fingers in her sink and rubbed the pallet, cringing as she was dancing her good makeup usually used with a fine tipped brush. The smothered it over her eyes, making it almost racoon like and receiving a snort laugh from Ellie. Sam rolled her eyes and dragged her fingers down her face in vine tracks down her face. A plain black long sleeve and shorts she wore at home will do as she fixed her came and took out her hair tie. Her long, messy fringe covering her face.

“What are you calling yourself?”

Robin/Damian Thomas Wayne

Analysing the crash site, he made a list of materials required to preform the repair. Father was already making calls and putting in requests. Moats were being managed by Oracle. Poison Ivy and Swamp Thing stood by, studying the plant life. Polaris seems to have grabbed Ivy during a gardening sessions, the body suit was no where in sight, replaced by legging, a long loose t-shirt that fit like a rather short dress and a pair of rubber looking boots. The mud consistency sticking to said boots was clearly from the recent park renovation project that aims at improving the ecology of the area. 

Damian felt the portal opening up before it did, Approximately a meter and a half east from their location, leaving it obscured by the corn. Hiding location. Whoever Polaris was bringing, she was protecting their location. 

The stalks rustled, Polaris floated, but the other figure walked out. Robin took a sharp breath- he saw it in Danyal’s memories. How his friends got possessed, the side effects, the powers. Despite the rushed job, Samantha Mason had a vision for her disguise, obscuring her identity just enough. 

“Another child? Really?” Hal Jordan was indignant and his continuous use of a frustrated tone was working on Damian’s nerves. 

He swallows it, practicing meditation techniques and keeping his mind calm. Polaris saw him, saw through him. This was not surprising, considering she was an altered version of his twin. She looked, stable, healthy, and complete. 

Damian often wondered why all of his clones were mutated. The survivors he brought to the island to live out their short lives. Additional limbs, heads, malfunctioning organs and development, weaker cognitive function. Damian tried to look at them clinically, but struggled to do so. Just as he is struggling now. 

If Danyal resembled mother more than himself, then Polaris… Ellie was a recoloured copy. 

“The name is Blackthorn” Sam announced proudly, marching to Batman and offering a firm handshake, “Sir”.

“Really? The kids go to bats?” Green lantern groaned, watching the handshake. “Should have known when a kid pops out wearing black”.

“Young warrior”, Wonder Woman approached, “Is there a reason you are here?”

Sam spoke in a flat tone, “I got possessed by the spirit of all greenery once, now I have plant powers”.