#hero intervention

It starts with a coincidence.

A small-time robbery gets interrupted before it can escalate. The police arrive expecting chaos, weapons drawn, adrenaline high.

Instead, they find the suspects sitting on the ground, looking… confused.

And a teenager leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” Danny Fenton says when they walk in. “You’re a little early.”

They were not early.

He just got there first.

It happens again.

And again.

Different crimes. Different parts of Gotham. Same outcome.

By the time the Batfamily starts tracking the pattern, it’s not a coincidence anymore.

Someone is reaching active crime scenes before them.

Someone without a signal, without backup, without any visible method of transport.

Someone who shouldn’t even know the crime is happening.

Damian is the first to connect the dots.

Gotham Academy.

Transfer student.

Danny Fenton.

The next time an alert goes out, Damian moves fast.

He arrives at the location in record time.

He is still too late.

Danny is already there.

Standing in the middle of what should be a high-risk situation like he wandered into the wrong room and decided to stay.

“You’re blocking the exit,” Danny tells one of the criminals casually. “If you run now, you’re going to trip over that.”

“There is nothing there—”

The man runs.

Trips.

Falls hard.

Silence.

Danny winces. “Okay, that one’s on you.”

Damian lands behind him, blade already in hand.

“You arrived before me,” he says.

Danny glances back. “Oh, hey. Yeah, you’re getting faster.”

“I am not the one being outpaced.”

Danny shrugs. “You’ll get there.”

This is not reassuring.

Surveillance footage makes it worse.

Because Danny doesn’t just arrive early.

He appears.

Not cleanly. Not like teleportation. Not like speed.

He’s just… not there.

And then he is.

Sometimes mid-step. Sometimes mid-sentence.

Like the world forgot to include him and then corrected itself.

Bruce reviews the footage.

Over and over.

There’s a pattern, but it’s not physical.

It’s… temporal.

Danny isn’t beating them to the scene.

He’s stepping into it before it fully happens.

Danny does not explain this well.

“I just feel it,” he says when cornered.

“Define ‘it,’” Bruce replies.

Danny hesitates.

“…Like something’s about to go wrong. Like really wrong. And if I don’t go, it stays that way.”

“That is not a location.”

“It kinda is?”

“It is not.”

Danny rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, imagine the worst version of something. Now imagine you can stand there before it finishes happening.”

Silence.

“…You are describing pre-event intervention,” Tim says slowly.

Danny brightens. “Yeah, that.”

The Batfamily starts noticing the difference.

Scenes Danny reaches first don’t escalate the same way.

Arguments stall out.

Plans fall apart.

People hesitate.

It’s like the moment loses momentum.

Like something interrupts the spiral before it locks in.

But it’s not perfect.

Because sometimes—

Danny gets there and just stands still.

Not talking.

Not interfering.

Just… watching.

Damian sees it happen.

A situation on the edge. Tense. Dangerous. Seconds away from tipping.

Danny is already there.

He doesn’t move.

“Do something,” Damian snaps.

Danny doesn’t respond.

His gaze is fixed, distant, like he’s looking at something no one else can see.

“Fenton.”

“…If I step in too early,” Danny says quietly, “it gets worse.”

Damian freezes.

“What.”

Danny swallows. “Some things… need to play out a little. Or they snap back harder.”

“That is unacceptable.”

“Yeah,” Danny agrees softly. “I know.”

It clicks into place after that.

Danny isn’t just preventing bad outcomes.

He’s navigating them.

Picking where to push, where to wait, where to let things break just enough that they don’t shatter completely.

And he’s doing it alone.

Damian starts showing up earlier.

Not early enough to beat Danny.

No one is.

But early enough to stand beside him.

To watch.

To understand.

One night, on a rooftop, Damian finally asks:

“How many versions do you see?”

Danny goes still.

“…Enough.”

“That is not an answer.”

Danny exhales slowly. “The bad ones are louder.”

“Then why not stop all of them.”

Danny looks at him, tired in a way that doesn’t match his age.

“Because sometimes stopping one makes three worse.”

Silence stretches between them.

Gotham hums below, restless, alive, unpredictable.

The next alert comes in.

Damian moves.

He knows he’ll be late.

He always is.

Danny is already there.

Of course he is.

Standing at the center of a moment that hasn’t fully decided what it’s going to become.

He glances back as Damian arrives.

“Hey,” Danny says. “You’re just in time.”

Damian steps forward, steady, certain.

“For what.”

Danny smiles, small and sharp and a little relieved.