Chapter Text
I bring you ‘Timmy… Baby Bird… WHAT??!!’
It was a cold and stormy day out in Gotham, (pretty standard if you’d ask Danny) and Tim was getting ready for patrol. He was just about to leave the nest when he felt that oh so familiar feeling tug on his core.
“Oh FUCK NUGGETS!” He exclaims, already mad at whoever’s summoning him today.
It’s not that he doesn’t get summoned often, quite the contrary even. It happens all the time. (Mostly by random cults wanting his attention or to sacrifice someone.) Sam and Tucker even summon him once in a while.
But still. Just because he knows it’s gonna happen doesn’t mean he has to like it.
So in order not to freak out whoever is summoning him, he shifts to his royal robes (oh how he hates them).
Bright white rings form around his core and expand up and down his suit becoming the hazmat suit he half-died in, the D proud upon his chest, a cloak of galaxies drapes down his shoulders and back, his normally blue eyes now glowing green and the domino removed, and his inky black hair now untamable, flowy white, the Crown or Fire resting just above, the Ring of Rage on his right ring finger, his Kevlar pants now the black hazmat with the white boots, and lastly his normal distinct lack of glow now replaced by a soft green all around his body.
He looks at himself in the mirror ready to leave, so finally he answers the call of the summoning.
(>-•-<)
“Constantine, isn’t that guy known for being a tyrant or something?” Superman asked.
“You’d be correct there.”
“So why are we summoning him then?”
The Justice League (plus the bats, minus Tim, someone had to patrol and one could never be too careful) was at The Watchtower on the moon at the insistence of John Constantine. He was adamant on the fact that it was important for the rest of their existence.
“Because, if we don’t, we very much would be in trouble,” the blond said.
“Define trouble,” came from the shadows, Batman.
“Y’know how all the weird alien and magical stuff happening here had been going on?” Constantine started, “that puts our universe in limbo, and I just got word the that ghost king was awoken, if we can’t successfully convince ‘im to not destroy our universe, we will die.” He said drawing another sigil in chalk on the floor.
The watchtower went silent. You could hear a pin drop.
“Understood,” the bat grunted.
A few more minutes and the circle was complete, Constantine started on the summoning chant right after.
A few seconds went by and nothing happened. Then the circle lit up with bright green blaze, everyone went tense.
They readied themselves for what was to come, Batman (in true bat fashion) had gave the JL ghost guns, and told them to fire when they saw the king, “to prove we should be listened to,” he said.
Then a figure emerged as the flames dissipated, they fired. The king was caught in a glowing green net and bound to the floor.
“Okay! WHAT THE FUCK??!! Zero outta ten summoning, the cults are better than this. The fucking cults for ancients sake!” The king cried.
Everyone froze, that was a kid. About 16 or 17 based on size. And they had shot a kid down.
“Constantine, I thought you said the Ghost King was an adult?” Nightwing questioned.
“Last I checked he was,” John said lighting another cigarette.
“Okay so why the ever loving fuck is a teenager the ghost king?” Red Hood followed up with.
“No clue.”
“I can hear you Y’know?” The king stated more than asked.
“Apologies,” Wonder Woman started, “I am Wonder Woman. And we had summoned you for a talk. The bats had just taken it out of hand.”
“Out of hand my ass. This,” he said gesturing at the net, “is insane. Assault for fucks sake.”
“Well we just wanted to make a deal, y’see our universe is kinda in limbo right now and we don’t really want to be erase from existence, so-,” Constantine got cut off by a bright light.
“Oh no. Stupid anti-ecto nets!” The king grumbled, trying to keep the rings from moving, he was failing at that and at getting out of the net. Eventually he went limp and tried to phase out instead, failing at that also.
The rings made it around his head and legs revealing a rather angry Tim Drake/Red Robin.
(>-•-<)
Okay this isn’t how Danny wanted this to go. Lying on The Watchtower floor in front of the JL and his family, under an anti-ecto net, as Red Robin instead of High King Danny Phantom.
And he hates it.
“Ooo-Kay then. This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” he muses.
“Timmy… Baby Bird… WHAT??!!” Nightwing shouts.
“What?”
“SINCE WHEN ARE YOU THE GHOST KING??”
“Uhh, lemme do the math real quick,” he says before muttering under his breath, “okay I’m 18 now became king at 14… wait no, became king a year before being sent here, so 1 year, then sent into a three year old body, so 18 minus three issss 15. 15 plus one is… 16 years!”
The Watchtower fell silent.
“Drake what?”