#ticnsfd

The good thing about being one of the lead-- and only if he was honest with himself-- researchers on the effects of ectoplasmic energy and radiation on the human realm was that the United States government was willing to bypass certain things in order to keep the Fenton’s continued cooperation and research firmly under their sponsorship. For instance, the favor they’d called in to help set up an identity and fast-track an adoption for the boy they’d found in the alley.

Upon discovering the boy, they had taken him in, patched him up, and put him up for the night in their guest room, immediately contacting CPS to inform them of what they’d found. The poor boy had a scar in the center of his chest, inches below his heart, with bruised skin surrounding the area. That wasn’t the only scar he carried, but the most immediate one-- it looked like it had only barely healed over, tissue still angry and red. The agency had instructed them to take him to the hospital first thing, where they found out the boy… effectively did not exist.

He wasn’t listed in any databases. No fingerprints, no registration of his birth, no known parents in the system. For all they could tell, he’d never even been in a hospital.

He also made it difficult as all hell to get any information. When he first spoke, he only spoke in Arabic, and the hospital had to bring in a translator. His name was Danyal, he had no last name, and did not know where he was or how he’d gotten there. When the nurse attempted to draw his blood, he’d almost bit her before the translator explained. Even then, it took a demonstration and explanation to prove that it would not be detrimental to him before he allowed it.

Jasmine, though… well. She’d taken one look at the boy in the alley and claimed him as her own. At ten years old, she’d plopped herself down on Danyal’s hospital bed, damn the consequences, and started chattering away, talking about anything and everything-- what she’d learned in school, her friend James who’d dyed his hair recently, the new family who’d moved in a few weeks back. And surprisingly, Danyal listened. Attentively. He’d slowly begun asking halting questions back, his voice hardly above a whisper, but in fluent English.

Jack shook his head, signing his signature on another piece of paperwork before flipping the page. As they had been first contact, and the boy had nowhere else to go after a test discovered the low level of ectoplasmic radiation clinging to him… The Fentons were approved for an emergency fostering situation after passing their inspections. Who else was equipped to keep an eye on his radiation levels? That was part of the whole reason the Fentons had set up shop in Amity Park, Illinois. Their social worker, however, had been very insistent that Danyal not have anything to do with their research other than monitoring his ectoplasmic levels, and the Fentons had readily agreed. They still had to take a course on trauma-informed care for parenting-- Danyal had been through so much, the extent of which they likely would never know. Their caseworker, a kind woman named Katherine, had explained that while Danyal knew English and could speak it fluently, they suspected it to be his second language. It would take time and lots of trust before he would open up and relax around them.

But… in the brief few weeks they’d spent together, Danyal had already captured his way into their hearts. Jazz nicknamed him Danny after they’d spent an afternoon trying to pronounce his name. She’d almost had it, from what Jack gathered, but she was missing the lilt to the end of the name that just. Could not be fixed. Despite hours of trying. So, Danny had eventually given up and given in to the nickname.

Jack rubbed his eyes, set his pen down as he got up from the desk. It was about time when the kids would be going to bed, and so he started the nightly routine that had recently expanded-- visit Jazz’s room first on the second floor, as it was closer to the stairwell, tuck her in and tell her good night as he turned down the lights. She liked to stay up reading with a light under her covers, so in about an hour, Mads would come by and do the same, telling her to go to sleep for real this time.

This time, however… Jazz’s bed was empty. Jack blinked in confusion, then glanced down the hall.

---

“Maddie, oh my God, you need to come look at this,” her husband whispered urgently from the stairs. Maddie looked up, one eyebrow raising as she marked her page with a bookmark and set the textbook aside.

“What is it?”

“Just-- come up here-- quiet, I don’t want to wake them up.”

She blinked, then smiled softly as she crept up the stairs, sneaking down the hallway to the open door of Danny’s room. The overhead light was off, but the lamp was still on, giving them a perfect view.

Danny was curled up in a little ball, snuggled right up into Jazz, her arms around him, one resting on a book on their legs. The light played with the shadows on their faces, the relaxed expressions showing their ages of eight and ten.

Maddie couldn’t help the squeal she muffled with her hand.

In her defense? It was adorable.

Though she did immediately regret it as Danny’s eyes snapped open, bright blue focusing on them both. She froze, lowering her hands from her mouth to show her soft smile, knowing that Jack was almost certainly smiling as well.

And somehow… that seemed to be enough for him. A few owlish blinks before the corner of his lips turned up, just a little, before he snuggled back into Jazz and closed his eyes.

Oh, how Maddie wished she had a camera.

---

Over time, the collection of photos lining the walls of the Fenton house grew. Danny’s first day of school, once his therapist had said he was adjusted enough to go, and that it would be beneficial to his development. The first time they’d gone out together as a family. The first summer fair. Danny and Madeline training together, after they’d realized the other had self-defense training.

Danny was ten, now. Acclimating to his new life had been… weird. It was weird being away from the League, not knowing… everything about how he’d gotten here.

He remembered dying. That was hard to forget, honestly-- letting himself falter, letting Damian survive at his own expense. Mother’s cries as he faded, Damian sobbing and apologizing.

Damian.

His thoughts often wondered to his little brother (by two minutes, Damian liked to protest), worried about how he had grown. If he had grown at all. They weren’t the first Heirs to the Demon Head, after all. Simply the ones who were the most useful. Their father had been a prospective Heir, but turned Grandfather down.

Danyal wondered how he had managed to get away alive after that. Ra’s didn’t take “no” for an answer very well.

A tap on his knee, and Danny looked up at unfamiliar violet eyes, way too close to his space. His shoulders tensed as he leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows. “Can I… help you?”

The girl, probably his age give or take a year, had plopped herself down at the picnic table in the elementary school playground and had taken to watching him. “You’re different,” she proclaimed after a moment’s consideration. “You’re not like Paulina or the others. What’s your name?”

“Danny,” he answered. “Why? And what do you mean, I’m different?”

“I don’t know.” The girl sighed sharply, looking at the other kids playing around. Even from here, on one of his first days, Danny could just tell the cliques being formed. They’d be going into middle school, soon, but, well. People had their groups of friends, and Danyal was content being the observer on the sidelines, gathering information. That was what he was best at, watching and observing, collecting intel for missions.

“Well, that’s not an answer.” He shrugged and looked back at the homework on the table in front of him, idly writing in some of the answers. Multiplying fractions by whole numbers, honestly. Boring.

“It’s the answer I have. Anyway, my name’s Sam,” she continued. “You’re new, aren’t you? The new Fenton kid that got adopted, right? My mom was talking about you, I think, to Paulina’s dad. It’s nice that they adopted you.”

He had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes. “Sam isn’t a proper name.”

“Neither is Danny,” she shot back.

Alright, he had to give her that. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth as he set his pencil down, shifting to look at her. “Okay, that’s fair. Yes, the Fentons adopted me two years ago. Yes, I’m new, I had a lot to work through before I could attend school. Do you have any other questions?”

Sam blinked, confusion flitting across her face at the businesslike tone he took. “Oh, um… Do you wanna be friends?”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, like. We can have playdates and do homework and stuff. Mom keeps telling me I need to make more friends, and Paulina’s been getting weird lately, so… Friends!”

“...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Jasmine is encouraging me to have friends as well.” He held his hand out for her to shake.

---

Danny was growing up pretty well, if Jazz said so herself. Oh sure, their family was absolutely insane even at the best of times. Sure, she was a sophomore in high school now, but… seeing how much work Danny’s social worker and therapists had done, how much they’d accomplished together, it made her want to help kids like they’d helped her brother.

She spotted the moment he realized she was watching him, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly until he met her gaze. Play it off, she’s not staring, not at all. Jazz got up, moving over to the kitchen table where Danny had previously been staring at the page in some… form of disgust mixed with annoyance.

“Hello, little brother,” Jazz giggled, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Should I offer to help you with your homework, considering you look like you want to set it on fire?”

“Jazz, this paper is literally going to kill me,” he groaned as he rubbed his face, pencil clattering onto the paper. “It’s just-- it’s so boring! I understand why we should learn how to predict events and how to prepare for them, but I learned how to do that before I learned to talk.”

“You should take that test to go into a higher grade,” Jazz encouraged. “I did it! And really, it’s so much more interesting. I get to take astronomy classes, I know you want to work for NASA when we’re grownups.”

“I know, I know,” Danny hummed. “But my therapist says it would be ‘detrimental to my development as a growing teenage boy coming from my background’,” he drawled, his voice completely monotone, drawing a laugh out of his big sister. “They act like I’m a feral kid, honestly.”

“You tried to bite your nurses when we first took you to the hospital. And the nurses when you got your vaccines. And your fifth grade teacher--”

“Okay, okay! Maybe I was a little feral,” Danny gave in.

---

He really hasn’t changed, has he? Jazz thought to herself from her perch on the top of a building, watching her little brother go apeshit on Skulker. Danny was fifteen now, and…

Her little brother was a superhero. Well, Danny liked to deflect, call himself a ‘vigilante at best’, but… well. They knew better, really. He’d done some awesome things, and she meant that in the Biblical sense of “awesome”-- truly awe-inspiring things that, if it were anyone else… well, they’d probably be a little concerned. Danny, though?

Danny was probably one of the genuinely kindest people she ever knew. Apparently, after his big defeat of Pariah Dark, Clockwork had taken him aside and talked about what that really meant, to defeat the High King of Ghosts in one-to-one combat. The Infinite Realms worked on a hierarchy of power, after all.

Which meant that on top of his duties as a vigilante superhero, and having just finished his sophomore year, Danny was also being tagged in for High Prince of Ghosts duties. Which, apparently, included acting as a psychopomp in some situations, albeit with quite a bit more ass-kicking.

As she watched Danny give Skulker one hell of a roundhouse kick, it felt like… her perspective of reality blurred. One minute they were in the sky, the next, Danny was floating in front of her with a paper in hand, Skulker nowhere to be seen. So really, you could hardly hold her responsible for the sharp jump and yelp, reaching out to sock him in the shoulder. “Danny! Don’t do that, I thought you were fighting-!”

Danny let his shoulder go intangible with a laugh, patting her on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Jazz. It… we need to have a talk with the rest of the gang, hold on a sec.” He tapped the communicator in his ear. “Phantom to team, come in team.”

“Here, as always,” Tucker’s voice buzzed, followed quickly by Sam’s agreement.

“Cutting patrol short tonight, guys,” he hummed, wrapping his arm around Jazz’s waist as they took off into the air. “Let’s meet back up at my place and talk-- seems we’ve got a letter from good ol’ Clocky.”

“Oh, Ancients,” Sam sighed. “Can we not get one normal summer?”

“Redundant question, sorry, Danny,” Tucker apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, guys-- let’s just get back and talk.”

---

“I’m sorry, he wants you to do what?!” Sam whisper-yelled, a throw pillow clutched tightly against her chest. “Danny, you’ve got to be joking. You can’t just… you can’t just tell your parents. I mean, what are they going to think?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, he’s the Master of All Time. If he says that this is probably the best time to tell them, because I’m needed for Prince of the Realms stuff this summer, then that’s probably in my best interest to listen to him,” he argued, tucking a knee to his chest. “Just… look, I just need you guys to be there with me when I tell them. It’s not like I can just burst out of the gate with it.”

“And, y’know, Mom and Dad have gotten a lot better, lately,” Jazz mused. “They’re really focusing on the science of what they’re doing instead of just… building weapons for ghost hunting. I think they took my lecture on being researchers to heart.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You screamed at them for a solid hour.”

“It was a lecture!”

“Not to be the voice of reason here or anything,” Tucker cut in, “but… I have to agree with Danny, Sam. Clockwork hasn’t guided us wrong yet, and technically, Danny’s his boss now, so I don’t think he wants to see him go power-crazy. Especially not after all that crap last time.”

Danny winced. “Really, just. Salt in that wound, huh?”

“Sorry man. But seriously, we just… sit them down and break out the powerpoint we made. We can all take turns explaining it,” Tucker reasoned. “And besides, where he goes, we go anyway.”

Sam huffed. “Fine. But I’m keeping my armor on standby.”

Danny grinned. “Thanks, guys. Now, we should plan for it this weekend, so we can start planning the summer trip…”

----

All things considered? Telling the Fentons was… a whole lot less screaming and accusations than Danny halfway expected. They took the information calmly, watching the presentation the teenagers gave-- and really, it was a damn good presentation. They’d gotten scans from Frostbite about Danny’s biology, his DNA, and how his long-term exposure to ectoplasmic radiation had protected him from straight up dying in the portal accident. How the Realms had saved him as much as it killed him. How he’d spent so much goddamn time, blood sweat and tears keeping the city, the world safe from their own little brand of cosmic horrors.

How they’d learned that fighting was how ghosts socialized, so they set up ways to keep it from being destructive on Danny’s grades and the town itself.

Their parents were… shocked, to say the least. But at their hearts, they were scientists. Scientists that had been fed lies and bigotry about ghosts in a field where they didn’t have the ability, for so long, to prove that bigotry wrong-- and when they did finally have the ability, their want to be proven wrong had long since disappeared. How their bias had been drilled into them by their professors, by their professors, by everyone in the field.

They needed time to reassess. To work through their biases, to… to try to apologize, in some way.

Danny said they didn’t need to apologize.

They insisted.

---

His mission, of course, was hardly put in clear terms. Danny thought that Clockwork just liked to fuck with him, at this point, as his Guardian. He had the right to, or whatever. Regardless, the young ghost just had to stare as Clockwork explained.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go to Gotham, a place that is notoriously full of crime, murder, and 100% has a supernatural presence, because the City Ghost has said that she’ll make your afterlife miserable if I don't deal with their furry problem?” he said incredulously.

“I hardly said that, Danyal,” Clockwork hummed. “What I said is that Lady Gotham, one of the older City Ghosts on this side of the world, has requested your assistance with your connections to both the living and Infinite realms in regards to a problem with one of her Protectors.”

“...So, the Bats,” Danny grumbled. “Hooray, that’s definitely what I wanted to do this summer. Go into the city that notably hates metas.”

“I hardly think that they will take umbrage with your presence,” Clockwork chuckled, patting his charge’s shoulder. “After all, your father lives in Gotham, does he not?”

Danny rubbed at his face as they floated to the couches that had appeared, the Long Now sensing the wants and needs of its owner. “I guess. That’s kind of… part of the problem, you know? I don’t want to go and see him, and then have to pretend that we’re… I mean, I know he’s my Father. I do. But.. I have enough problems without having to deal with the whole-ass Justice League on my ass, you know?”

“I believe you have less problems than you believe you do,” Clockwork hummed.

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Are you… going to give me a better answer than that?”

“No.”

“Enigmatic bastard.”

“If either of us is a bastard, young Prince, it would be you.”

“You cheeky-!”

TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

Perfection, for most people, was an unattainable dream. “Practice makes perfect”, they would say, knowing that perfection was something that would always slip out of their grasp, a wisp of smoke on a cool Autumn evening. An ideal to live up to, to work towards. Similar to how the world viewed Superman-- the “Big Blue Boy Scout” indeed. He was a paragon of humanity, a person to look up to, to strive to be like. Compassionate, strong, better than man.

Perhaps it was strange that from birth, he knew he would have to be perfect. Grandfather and Mother would accept nothing less from the elder son, after all. Twins had been unexpected, but a delight nonetheless-- an age old saying of “the heir and the spare” had worked in their favor. On the off chance the elder twin of the two boys was not up to par, the “spare” would be trained to take over for him. He would have his own role, otherwise, when they grew up to be adults.

One, the Demon Head. The ruler of the League of Assassins. The other, the Batman of Gotham City. Both ruthless and merciless in their own ways, inheriting their birthrights.

Life, or perhaps Death, had other plans.

----

Silent as a ghost, he had been called. Trained since he could walk to not make a sound, to keep your breath quiet so as to not be discovered. Stealth and secrecy ran in his blood, and he would be damned if he were to fail the mission. At home, for now, watching his brother train, snow fluttering across the sky in drifts. It was cold, but not so much as to be irritating; besides, he had trained in colder conditions than this. His eyes tracked his brother’s movements, his steadiness with his katana. The slight hesitation in his movements that ultimately led to his feet swept out from underneath him, a foot planted on his chest and a blade at his throat. From here, he could see the blood well up on his brother’s jaw. An unfortunate cut, but a shallow one. It shouldn’t scar.

Though that could hardly be said the same for himself. On his last mission, the target had gotten feisty. A graze of a knife to his cheek, leaving a faint raised line on his jaw. Well, another way to tell them apart, he supposed.

Warmth on his shoulder, a faint pressure. “Watching Damian again, habibi?” Amusement in her tone, a relaxing of his shoulders. “You have your own training to watch.”

“He still hesitates,” Danyal murmurs, blue eyes fixed on his brother as he went through his stances. Tracing his movements, cataloging the weak points. “Favors his left.”

“I know, my son, but he will learn, whether of his own determination or through his tutors,” she hummed, squeezing his shoulder slightly. “How was your last mission?”

“Successful. I will admit to a slight miscalculation, but the target was neutralized with none the wiser. I retrieved our information and have given it to Grandfather as of this morning,” he reports, shifting his weight slightly.

“Good.”

They fell silent, watching the younger of the twins silently before Danyal turned, a murmured apology as he left for his own training session. His blade, an extension of his own body, singing through the air in time with his soul. Hesitation brutally snuffed out, nothing but the rigorous, merciless clash of metal as he fought. A kick to the side, breath wheezing out in the frozen morning air.

Danyal stood tall over his opponent, sword at their chest until they yielded. Only then did he sheath his blade at his hip, then offer a hand up.

Clapping. He turned, bowing when Grandfather came into view. “You have done us proud yet again, Danyal.”

Pride raced through his veins, straightening his spine. “Thank you, sir.”

“Walk with me.” A quick jog to catch up to his Grandfather’s side, straightening and standing tall in the man’s all-knowing gaze. “What do you think of Damian’s progression?”

Confusion, eyes blinking at the question. Caught off guard, can’t let it happen again. He’s better than that. “I’m… sorry, sir?”

“Don’t apologize,” the Demon Head instructed. “You observe your brother’s training when you can, especially after returning home to us from a mission. You are both still at an age where imperfections can be smoothed out. I would like to know your opinion on how Damian’s training is progressing.”

“Of course.” Danyal took a moment to think, recalling trends and patterns he had witnessed over the years. “Damian… is still too compassionate. He hesitates, unable to commit to the possible action of injuring his tutors, of causing their deaths. In his role, it will serve him well, I suppose, but as an assassin… it could very well mean his own demise,” he mused. “His hesitation will get him killed.”

Ra’s was silent for a few moments. “Thank you, Danyal. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

----

Snow crunched under their boots, blades crashing and ringing in the evening light, the courtyard illuminated by torches. Bystanders observing, watching intently to see who would give first.

A test, Grandfather had called it. Of Damian’s willingness to wound, of how deep his hesitation went.

But it was Danyal’s hesitation that caused it all.

He would not hurt his twin, he realized as their blades locked again, looking into Damian’s eyes. Seeing the fear, the desperation to please reflected back.

A moment’s pause, not moving when he should have, when he knew he could--

A gasp. The courtyard fell silent.

Red. Red on his hands, on the blade, seeping out of his clothes-- good thing they were black, it would wash out-- red staining the snow.

Panic above him, Damian frantically trying to keep his attention, eyes welling up with tears.

Danyal smiled.

----

“Not quite yet.”

Hands, cold cold hands, yet somehow warm, welcoming. Comforting. He could see green in his fading vision, swirling, neon otherworldly green. It reached out to him, curled him close.

Welcomed him home.

“Time out.”

---

The silence of the early morning, children awake, yet not leaving for school. Birds twittering in the trees, singing their songs to those who would listen. The haze of dawn slowly lifting, the cold of concrete and brick at his back. The creak of a door, something heavy hitting the ground in shock.

“....Mom! Dad! There’s-- come quick!!”

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @fisticuffsatapplebees (love that), @screamingtofillthevoid (in a sense i'm workin on the "dude you got fuckin rabies" bit)

Danny’s list of things to do in Gotham was simple. Truly.

Step one: Get into Gotham without getting Batman on his tail. Easy. He’s not a meta.

Step two: find Red Hood and figure out what in the hell is so wrong with his Vibes that Lady Gotham herself asks for help. Lady Gotham never asks for help.

Step Three: find the Joker, knock his shit out, and drag his soul back for sentencing.

Step four: get the hell out of dodge.

Simple! Quick, easy, something that won’t take more than a week if all goes well, Danny reasoned as he packed a suitcase. And if it takes longer, well, the family had had a conversation a day ago about this situation.

His parents were understanding, if a bit disappointed that Danny had to go off elsewhere, but Jazz quickly turned their moods around by mentioning that she had a college tour at Gotham University for their psychology partnership with Arkham. Her car was therefore packed, pressed suit jackets and slacks hanging up on a rod in the backseat, her suitcase tucked neatly into the trunk, ready for Danny’s to join it.

One more checklist, just to be sure.

Clothes for a week? Check. Cash in his wallet? Check. A backpack full of weapons, ectoplasmic shots, Ecto-Dejecto, bandages, and Fenton fishing line? Check. His sword hilt? Check.

Danny hesitated, looking back at the armor folded carefully in the back of his closet. After a moment’s thought, he transformed into Phantom, shaking the armor out and holding it up to himself in the mirror.

He was taller, now. More filled out in the shoulders, his body put through hell and back. His fighting style had shaped him, shifting from the lean, smaller, quicker physique of his past into a stronger, more muscled brawler type. The armor wouldn’t fit, naturally-- he was fifteen, now, not eight.

Danny examined his jumpsuit in the mirror, looking himself up and down. Pauldrons, wrist braces, shin guards… He could do without the front flare of the tunic, though. Heavier armor on his knuckles, an empty sheath on his hip for a sword he no longer had.

It would do, for his purposes. Besides, Frostbite and Fright Knight had been bugging him to add more armor to his Phantom form, given the amount that he got knocked around. Mainly into buildings. Yeah, it made sense.

A white ring split from his waist, his clothing shifting, new pieces appearing. A crown resting on his brow, his ring on his finger. Danny looked at himself again, at the armor from his past and his present mixed and melded together.

A nod, then Danny shifted back, dropping the few inches back down to the ground-- right in time, too, as Mom stuck her head in the door. “Are you almost ready, sweetheart?” she asked, entering his bedroom with a thermos in hand. “I know you’ve probably packed plenty, but I made you an ectoplasm smoothie.”

Relief flitted across his face as Danny grinned, ducking in close for a quick hug. “You’re a lifesaver, Mom,” he praised, taking pleasure in his core purring. Family-content-safe-family. “I could go for a pick-me-up, I just changed my outfit a little.”

“Ooh!” Maddie laughed, getting on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “You’re going to keep it from us until you get home? Despicable,” she teased.

Danny flushed, rubbing his neck embarrassedly. “Oh, psh, mom. I’m only changing it for Gotham specifically-- a HAZMAT jumpsuit tends to stand out a little, you know?”

Maddie’s smile softened as she pushed the thermos into Danny’s grip, dancing nimbly away to the duffle bag on the bed. One last checkover- because of course, she’s a mother, she has to make sure he has everything he needs (and if Danny’s core warmed slightly at the gesture, the care she showed, that’s for him to know). “I think you have everything, honey. Just.. be careful, okay?” she asked, zipping up his duffle and clipping it to the handle of his suitcase.

“Mom, I’m going to be fine. At most, this’ll take a week, maybe three,” he brushed off, taking the handle from Maddie as he offered her his arm. “Jazz is going to look at her college, and I’m going to investigate as best I can. If I have a free day or two, I might go with her. Now-- do you want to take the fast way down, or the boring, normal way?”

Mom blinked, then beamed. “Oh! Of course, Danny, just let me get ready,” she fretted, adjusting her suit before linking her elbow in his. She nodded, and Danny let gravity slip away, shifting them both intangible as she gasped in delight.

God, Danny was never going to get used to this. His parents delighting in his powers, letting him show them off, trusting them with his secret. It was a relief and a joy that he wished he could reassure his fourteen-year-old self about. That a year later, things would be looking up again.

Danny let them drop, falling from the second floor to the first by the front door, then let their presence in the world slip back into existence, dropping to the ground with a faint thump. Maddie just beamed at him, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “I’m so proud of you, Danny,” she said softly. “You’ve come such a long way.”

The blush from earlier only flamed up as Danny laughed, deflecting instantly. “Ah, well, the only reason I’ve progressed so much is yours and Dad’s help.”

Maddie just shook her head fondly, opening the front door. “Alrighty, Mr. Humble, let’s get you packed up and on the road. You’ve got about five hours to your first stop in Cincinnati, then another five to Pittsburg. If you push it, you might be able to get to Gotham before nightfall, but don’t drive if you don’t feel like you can-- and Danny, that does not mean you can shift and pick the car up invisibly,” she scolds. “You have your permit, and Jazz can be the licensed driver in the car, so you can get some practice hours in. Lord knows you need it.”

Danny just snickered as he opened the trunk, sliding his suitcase on top of Jazz’s, then closing it, his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Mom, we’re going to be fine,” he assured her. “We can get a hotel if we need, I may or may not have Vlad’s credit card, and have plenty of gas and snacks. I’m not going to do anything stupid on a finite amount of ectoplasm, honestly.”

“You know, I’m going to discard the comment about Vlad right now, just because I’m worried about you,” Maddie sighed as Jazz leaned against the car, Jack double-checking the tires. “There should be enough ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, but we can’t be sure--”

“Lady Gotham has already agreed to host us, Mom,” Jazz snorted. “If there’s enough ectoplasm for a city ghost, let alone one as old as her, Danny’s gonna be just fine. And besides, he can always open a portal into the Realms.”

“Okiedokie, can we stop loudly discussing this in the street?” Danny protested. “Let’s get this show on the road, c’mon.”

“Okay, Danno, okay,” Jack hummed as he got back to his feet before patting Danny on the shoulder. “I know you’re anxious to get this done, so we’ll not drag this out, but…” Swiftly, Jack pulled his son into a hug. “Just be safe, okay, kiddo?”

Danny smiled back, letting his core rumble audibly. “Dad, we’re going to be fine. Jazz has the Peeler, I have weapons aplenty, so I won’t even need to shift to Phantom. We’re gonna be fine. In and out.”

“Just humor me, and text us when you get to your stops,” Jack sighed exasperatedly, ruffling Danny’s hair, proudly ignoring the protests as Danny tried and failed to get his hair back into a somewhat manageable floof.

“We’re going to be fine,” Danny repeated. “Red’s covering my patrols, you guys are helping out, and Vlad’s agreed to keep an eye out and play nice. Sam and Tucker are going to meet us next week for that Gala you got us tickets to. We’ll all head back together, now stop fussing, jeez. Prince of the Infinite Realms, and I’m gonna get fussed to death,” he grumbled, no heat in the action as he climbed into the passenger seat.

---

Okay, so maybe Danny underestimated how goddamn boring this drive was going to be. Logically, okay, he understood that Illinois and Indiana were, like, 90% farmland with the exceptions of Indianapolis and and Chicago.

But man.

Staring out the window listening to Jazz’s pop music playlist for three hours straight was really starting to get to him. Idly, he dug into the duffle bag for a set of Fenton Fones, tucking one into his ear as he set the other one on the center console. “Jazz, I’m going to go insane if I listen to one more goddamn boy band,” he said seriously. “I won’t go far, I’m just gonna fly above you. Is that okay?”

Jazz sighed, then nodded as she tucked the earbud into place. “Stay somewhere you can see me and get to me fast,” she instructed. “And don’t explore! At most, fly a mile ahead and tell me about the traffic.”

“Okay, okay,” Danny snickered, dropping intangible and invisible, shifting to Phantom before he’d even left the car. “Come in, Worst Shot, can you hear me?”

The comm link crackled slightly, then came in clear. “Loud and clear, Inviso-Bill, if we’re doing stupid nicknames.”

“You wound me,” Danny said dramatically, flipping onto his back as he lazily flew above the car, a good two hundred feet up. “I’m around, J. Directly above you, in fact, going sixty-five miles per hour. Really, the exact speed limit?”

“I really, really don’t want to get pulled over with ectoplasmic shots in the car, much less weapons.”

“...You know what, that’s fair, actually. Ooh, there’s a wreck on the road a bit ahead, maybe a mile and a half? If you take the next exit, then get back on the highway, you should be able to circumvent it.”

“Better than satellite GPS,” Jazz teased as Danny watched her take the exit. “I’m gonna stop and stretch. Are you needed at the wreck?”

“I don’t think so,” Danny mused as he watched her pull into a truck stop. “But I’m gonna go look, just in case.”

“I figured, Little Brother. Go, do your thing. I’ll get you a Mountain Dew.”

Danny laughed as he muted his microphone, flipping around and shooting towards the ground, letting himself slow down gradually. A check to ensure he was still invisible and intangible before he looked around the scene of the accident. One car flipped, the other swerved off the road. He winced as he looked at the flipped car, then glanced at the swerved one. The second driver was going to be fine, he could tell, but the first…

The tether between the driver and life was growing thin, Danny could tell from here. Gently, he let himself land, slowly approaching the car before he crouched next to the broken window. “Hey there,” he greeted, looking at the driver.

She couldn’t be more than her mid-twenties, blonde hair sticky and strawberry pink with blood. Bruising across her face and chest, her breathing wheezy and wet. “Who’s there? Please… help me?”

Danny glanced at the other car, ensuring he was out of view of the road and the other driver before he let himself slip into visibility. The girl gasped softly, her eyes unfocused but determined to look at him. “You-- what?”

“Hey, hey. You’re going to be okay,” Danny murmured. “It’s just… I’m sorry, but I can’t help you as you are. But I can help you, in a way. You have a choice, here-- your tether to life is fading, but I can either strengthen it or cut it.”

The girl stared for a moment at him before coughing. “W-why on earth would you make me pick? Aren’t you Death?”

Danny waved his hand. “Ah, not quite, more like her errand boy,” he joked. “As for the choice… it’s yours to make. This accident is serious enough that you will not recover, not fully. From experience, you’ll most likely be in a vegetative state, if you don’t have a DNR. But if you choose to pass, I can escort you to your afterlife, and make sure you won’t feel any more pain,” he says simply.

“Are you an angel, then?”

“Again, not quite,” Danny laughs. “I’m more like… Charon, if you’re familiar with Greek mythos. A ferryman, or an escort to the afterlife.”

“I…” the girl glanced around, looking tiredly at herself, then back to Danny, her head falling backwards. “Okay. Okay, um… can you…?”

Danny just smiled softly, reassuringly, as he reached out to her and gently took her hand. As he stood up, she stood up with him, stepping out of the car with a sigh. Her aura was small, a low silver glow as they stood, looking back at the car. “Is.. is that it?” she asked, examining her body in the car. “That’s everything?”

“That’s it,” Danny confirmed, waving his hand as a door appeared. It was white, gold filigree decorating the otherwise plain door. “Alright, this is your stop. Catholic, right?”

She nodded. “Y-yes. Yes. I’m ready,” she said, stepping slightly towards the door. “Is… is it okay?”

“Go on,” Danny encouraged, squeezing her hand. “You’re going to be great.”

She smiled shyly, her free hand landing on the handle before she twisted, opening the door as golden light spilled out. “It… what’s your… name?”

“Phantom,” Danny answered. “Go on, Emily. You’ve got a lot of family waiting on you.”

Emily paused, then ducked towards Danny, pulling him into a tight hug. Danny tensed briefly, then laughed, hugging her back. “Go on, Emily,” he grinned, ushering her on. “Go rest.”

Emily smiled one more time, then stepped into the doorway, the door shutting behind her.

Phantom smiled back.

---

They made it to Pittsburg before both siblings gave up the ghost (ha) and paid for a hotel, texting their parents and sending a location pin before turning in. The next day, Danny took the wheel for the rest of the drive, but the closer and closer they got to Gotham, New Jersey, the more and more anxious he got. Gotham was… if the rest of the state was quiet (which was a bad description for pretty much everywhere of note in the United States, but especially the East Coast), Gotham was a big old set of discordant church bells all going off at once. Not literally, thank the Ancients, but that was the closest description he could give.

But once they crossed the city border? All of that silenced for a moment as Danny took a breath, let it out. A presence rubbed his shoulder, a motherly laugh in his ear.

“I will await you on the Wayne Hotel roof, young King,” Gotham murmured, then dipped away.

Danny grumbled, shaking it off with a shiver. “Ancients help me from intentionally spooky and vague city spirits,” he huffed, getting a laugh from his sister as she looked up from her phone.

“That bad?”

“She awaits me,” he snorted. “Man. I know she’s been around for kind of forever, but still.”

“Your guardian is literally the God of Time.”

“Well, yes, but-- oh look our hotel!” Danny quickly changed the subject as they turned off the main road. When Vlad had heard that they were visiting Gotham, well. The billionaire practically couldn’t help himself in setting them up in one of the nicest hotels in the city.

It’s not what you can do for nepotism, it’s what nepotism can do for you. And what your godfather’s incessant need to both show off, provide for you, and also upstage another billionaire in his own city.

Danny was out of the car first, tossing the keys to Jazz as he rubbed his face, taking a deep breath before letting it out. Ah, Gotham.

The last time he was here, he was.. What, seven? A year before…

He rubbed his chest, then shook his head as he went to get a luggage cart. Not worth thinking about, that part of his life was long gone. He just had to stay out of the path of the Bat and his Birds, check in with the Red Hood, then get out.

Of course, he wasn’t as oblivious as he pretended he was, once. There was the intrinsic flaw that Red Hood was a former Robin, and had returned to working with the Bat-Clan, albeit on and off. Not to mention dragging that dumb fucking clown back to the Realms to face justice was definitely going to get attention.

At least only attention on Phantom, who the League had no idea about. And even if they did figure out who he was, they assumed he was dead. Nothing they can do about death.

…Shit, right, the Pits. Okay. Later--

Danny grunted, jerked out of his musings as he clipped his toe on a wheel, doing a bit of fancy footwork to fix his balance as he looked at the woman. “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. Shit, wheelchair. Shit, he just kicked her wheelchair.

The woman looked back at him strangely, tucking a piece of red hair behind her ear as she shifted herself back. “No, it’s-- don’t worry about it, you looked like you were thinking pretty hard,” she said, setting her hands in her lap. “Are you new to Gotham?”

“Just visiting,” Danny confirmed. “I don’t plan to stay long, just a week or two.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Danny laughed. “Unless you count ‘college tour’ as pleasure, which I don’t.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t look old enough for college-- but pardon me if you’re a child prodigy, or whatever.”

Danny waved his hand idly as he started stacking the luggage. “My sister, she’s a psych student. Said that if she can make it here, she can make it anywhere. I argued she could do that in New Orleans or any other big city, but alas, Arkham or bust,” he snorted, setting his duffle bag on top.

“Ah. Well, just… as a Gothamite, just make sure she’s aware that most of our psychology students either turn into Rogues, get kidnapped by Rogues, or leave after a semester. Sometimes both.”

“Oh, she’s aware. Honestly? Can’t be crazier than home,” Danny hummed, glancing over her shoulder to the front desk. “I’m sorry, she’s calling me over. It was nice to meet you, though, Ms…?”

“Barbara,” she answered, blue eyes glinting in the light, meeting his own. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Danny,” he confirmed. “Sorry about tripping on your chair.”

“No worries, kid.” She shook her head fondly as Danny walked off, pulling the cart behind him. With years of stealth and practice, she slipped her phone out, switching to camera mode before taking a picture.

Wayne Family Dumbasses:

Eyeinthesky: damian clone or incoming adoption bait? Place your bets here.

Everyone is typing…

TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

Damian, as befitting his training, his childhood, and the absolute bafflement at this assassin 1) calling him by name and 2) apparently being very behind the curve of information on the whole “left home” debacle, did not move. He didn’t even twitch in reaction, raising an eyebrow, sheerly unimpressed. “You’re rather out of the loop for someone in the League,” he mused, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword at his hip. “You’re a deserter, aren’t you?”

The deserter, for that’s what they had to be, paused in his pacing on the ledge of the building, turning to look Damian up and down. “You’re… not going to try to kill me?”

Batman made a noise, somewhere between disbelief, concern, and wariness. “What reason would he have for that?”

The assassin paused, tenseness in his shoulders as he looked back at the Bats congregated on the top of the building. Not for the first time, Damian wondered idly how he had gotten this far in stealth, given that he somehow glowed like a broken light stick. He was lit up like a neon sign, the light from his armor (and really, he understands personalizing it in an act of defiance against the groupthink of the League, but neon?) glowing and playing with the shadows of his masked face. 

“Just… covering my bases,” the assassin… person? He clearly wasn’t a very good assassin— answered, fake ease in his voice. “I know how stabby he can get, though it’s kind of hard to stab, yknow. A ghost.”

Damian liked to think that in the five years since he became Robin, he’d seen enough to be truly unphased. Time travel, his friend leaving for a summer trip and coming back seventeen, legitimately everything regarding Todd, et cetera. He’d thought he really, at this point, could not be surprised. 

“Ghosts aren’t real,” he said, his mouth working faster than his brain. The assassin seemed to snort, turning away to look over the city, leaning a bit concerningly far over the ledge. 

“Oh, sure, buddy, and I’m not your twin brother back from beyond the grave,” Damian caught, the muttering clearly meant to be under his breath. Alas, their technological improvements to their suits had long since included technology to amplify their hearing. 

“Excuse me?”

“Ohshit,” the teenager groaned as he rubbed at his face. “You don’t… you didn’t hear anything. Nope.”

Red leaned over in incredulity, leaning around Batman’s hulking form. “Did you seriously just call yourself his dead twin brother? Robin doesn’t have a dead twin brother.”

===

The eight years since leaving the League had done wonders on Danny, truly. He learned what it meant to have a loving family, the importance of friends, his quite literal “ride or die”s, the stability of having a support network. 

But in that process, he’d opened up, let his guard down. He was expressive, witty, sarcastic. 

And Danny, upon hearing Red Robin’s incredulous comment… winced. Visibly. Physically stepping back a little, his boot scuffing the edge of the building, knocking a few pieces of gravel off. “I— uh, that. Depends on who you ask? Technically he doesn’t, uh, anymore?” He stuttered, green eyes flicking back and forth between the impassive gaze of Batman and the much more visibly murderous one of Robin, his sword hilt gripped tightly in hand. “It’s complicated, and uh, a long long story?”

“Shorten it,” Robin ground out. 

“Righto, uh, well, Lazarus pits, you know?” He started, nerves sneaking into his voice. “They’re kinda fucked up waste pits of ectoplasm, really need to be cleaned out and all that. And uh, if you… shit, I have no idea how to spin this,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“You’re a really bad assassin,” Red Robin noted. “And a really bad liar.”

“I— yknow; fair enough. You’re not the first person to say that.” 

“You. Are. Stalling,” Robin grumbled, unsheathing his wakizashi as he stalked towards the glowing teenager. Danny balked, then grinned behind the mask. 

“Oh holy shit, you have my sword!” He cheered, quite literally and visibly lighting up as he tugged his mask down. “I missed that! Man, you have no idea how shitty it is to have to find an entire new sword years after getting comfortable with another, Dami, it sucks don’t do it— I mean, I more use a katana these days, but it’s in the same design, I guess Mother gave it to you after everything?” Danny let his hold on gravity drop, zipping over to his brother as he examined the blade. 

Robin flinched back, his glare amplifying. “Stop that,” he barked. “You— stop it.”

“Stop what?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

“Stop— imitating my face!”

“It’s not your face, it’s my face!”

“No, it’s not!” Damian insisted. Danny let his feet drop, his weight returning just in time to dodge the punch that would have otherwise probably broken his nose. 

“Whoa, hey, Dami, chill out,” he yelped. “It’s cool, it’s fine, I mean you can’t really hit me anyway, given the whole dead thing, but I’d kinda figured, yknow, it’s been eightish years, yknow?”

“Stop it!” Damian growled, spinning to tackle Danny. The twins went down, Robin pinning the young ghost as he punched. Danny’s arms went up, blocking him from his face on instinct, a grin on his face. 

“Oh, that’s how we’re socializing? Great!” Danny chirped, catching Damian’s fists as they descended. He hooked his knee up, pushing Damian up and *launching* him off, spinning as he got to his feet. “Let’s socialize, akhi!”

“Don’t call me that!”

===

Tim slid over, watching the boys with oh-so-similar faces duking it out on the roof of the building. “You good, B?” He asked, looking over the Big Bat. And… yep, Bruce had the same expression on his face when Damian first showed up: disbelief, concern, confusion, and anger hidden behind a mask of indifference. “Ah. A crisis, got it.”

He pulled out his phone, taking a photo of the boys absolutely wrassling on the ground, the white-haired one laughing and joking while Damian seemed to be doing his best to claw his eyes out. 

Wayne Family Dumbasses:

conspirator: my bet’s changing to secret twin but with the added plot twist of ghosts

murderhobo: what is this, a penny novel?

murderhobo: ….who the FUCK changed my name

conspirator: (image)

conspirator: ghost. 

20/20vision: the fuck why is he GLOWING

murderhobo: language

20/20vision: ????????

Purble: if he’s a secret twin why does he have white hair

murderhobo: yknow, I’m gonna throw my lot in on “ghost” too. And try not to feel offended about the white hair thing. 

Purble: sorry jay

===

Bruce sighed heavily. “Boys, stop trying to murder each other. Robin, get off of him.”

A muffled “he started it” came from the… yep, looking at them, if you were able to dismiss the white hair and— okay, his eyes were glowing too— glowing, Lazarus green eyes, their faces were identical. “You. You say that you’re his twin brother? Explain.”

“Ra’s didn’t need two heirs,” the boy said simply, crossing his arms across his chest. “And I refuse to hurt Dami.”

Robin resolutely looked away from the white-haired boy at his side. “You’re not him,” he muttered. “And if you are, why now? Why taunt me with your existence?”

===

Danny sighed, turning to Damian as he set his hand lightly on the vigilante’s shoulder. “Akhi, hal tatadhakar alnujumu?” he murmured, nudging Damian to face him even as he stiffened. “almalk walhami. kan almakan aladhi yumkin 'an nakun fih ahraran.”*

Though Danny couldn’t see his brother’s eyes, he knew them better than he knew his own— flicking back and forth, taking in the minute differences from what Damian would have remembered. His freckles were different in his ghost form, forming constellations… one, the figure they’d painted as the King, the other on his opposite cheek the Protector, their ‘backs’ against each other. “Kayf matat?” he asked finally.**

“Sayf al'umi ealaa alduluei. khatwt 'amam alnasl bayn yadayka. kan kabiran jidana bialnisbat lika. lam takun mdrban ealaa aistikhdamihi,” Danny answered, his gloved hand taking Damian’s. “Lam 'astatie tarkak tamuta”***

Pain exploded across his nose and Danny reeled back, a yelp of pain tearing out of his throat as Damian punched him. “You sacrificed yourself!” His brother, his twin yelled, shaking in rage. “You killed yourself and left me to take your place!”

“I wasn’t going to murder you, Damian!” Danny shot back. “I wasn’t going to let Grandfather make that decision for us.”

Damian’s hands clenched at his sides, watching the green blood drip and trickle from Danny’s nose. “You should have let me die instead,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “You should have killed me rather than condemned me to that fate, to being the inferior heir who was forced to be better! You should have— should have—“

Danny scrambled forward, pulling Damian into a tight hug. “Never. Never, akhi, I would never have been able to kill you,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry— I’m sorry—“

And there they stood, brothers reunited after too many years apart, one beating heart between them as they clung to each other.

===

 Elsewhere, a ghost smiled, floating back as the view screen changed, showing alternate futures— twin boys growing into adults, becoming heroes together, stronger as a pair than they ever were apart. 

“All is as it should be.” ===

*Brother, do you remember the stars? The King and the Protector. It was the only place we could be free. **How did you die? ***Mother's sword through the ribs. I stepped in front of the blade in your hands; it was too big for you. You were not trained to use it. I could not let you die. TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

Gotham? 

Fucking whack.

You couldn’t even see the stars, for Ancient’s sakes. And it wasn’t like Danny wasn’t close to the sky, or anything, no, the hotel Vlad put them up in, Wayne Hotel, honestly, was one of the biggest and fanciest in the whole city.

And it was still clogged with god fucking damn smog.

Honestly, it was an affront. Not just to Danny as a ghost with a space obsession, because really, humanity needed to get it together and stop poisoning the Earth before that shit started leaking into and affecting the Realms, but as a Wayne.

The fuck is Bruce even doing with his billions?

(Being Batman is the obvious answer, but still. Switch to clean energy, for fuck’s sake.)

Regardless. If Danny was spiteful enough, he could have asked Undergrowth for a favor to pop out some clear skies for one night, but it wasn’t worth it to have the Ancient with a favor over him. So instead, Danny suffered, sitting on the ledge of the hotel roof, looking down at the city below contemplatively. He was far enough up that he could hear the city buzzing, most of it intentionally tuned out of his enhanced hearing, but not so much that he couldn’t hear anything. 

The fact that the woman appearing next to him on the ledge was silent enough that he didn’t notice her until she spoke?

Danny fully almost fell off the roof in surprise.

“Hello, young Prince--”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Danny yelped, scrambling as he slipped, flight instantly kicking in to keep him from dropping. 

“No, just me,” Lady Gotham laughed, brushing her skirts down as she sat elegantly next to him. Though he’d never seen her before, he recognized her immediately-- soft, faintly glowing blue eyes over a black 1800’s-era mourning gown, a broach at the delicate lace collar around her throat. She smiled at him as he plopped back down, leaning over to smooth his hair back. “Goodness, you look so much like your father.”

Danny hummed slightly, tilting his head. “You know, I can’t really see it, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Lady Gotham just hummed, gently cupping his cheek as she studied him. “So much like your brother, but I can see the differences clearly. He looks like your mother, but you? Oh, so similar to my beloved Knight-- and not just in looks,” she teased. “You’ve come a long way since Clockwork came to me, telling me that my Knight’s son would need guidance.”

Danny blushed, the tips of his ears going a pale green. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, swinging his feet lazily. “So, you wanted to talk to me, right? Is it regarding the Bats, because I’m really trying to not piss off Batman.”

“In a sense,” Gotham hummed, looking over the city. She’ll point out a section of city, gesturing to the more dilapidated, beat-up buildings. “That section, called Crime Alley--”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am not, now let me speak.” Danny’s mouth clicked together so fast you could hear it. “Crime Alley, or Park Row as it is officially called, is the territory of a young liminal, the Red Hood. I believe that he could be a potential Fright Knight for you, but I would ask a favor of you.” Gotham looked back to Danny, worry in her eyes. “He struggles with the corrupted ectoplasm of a Lazarus Pit, and I… I cannot help him. It is all I can do, at times, to provide what clean ectoplasm I can.”

Danny paused, looking towards Park Row contemplatively. “So… this guy’s got basically poison in his system, and you want me to go put him on basically a juice cleanse?”

“More or less,” Gotham acknowledged with a shrug. “You do rather have the tendency to cleanse the ectoplasm in your immediate area.”

“Fair.” Danny got to his feet, stretching lazily. “Okay, but a favor for a favor. Please, if you get the opportunity… Let me know if the Bats are getting too close, okay? I really don’t want to have to hash out the legality of my existence with my own dad.” He reached out, offering the City Spirit his hand. “I’ve had my fair share of awkward family dinners, but that would take the cake.”

“I will abide by your request, but do remember-- they are family,” Gotham says softly, taking his hand and gliding to her feet on the ledge. “Trust in them, and you will see it is not misplaced.”

The Prince smiled.

===

Damian, frankly, hated this goddamned family. It all started with a text from Gordon, making a joke about a “secret lost brother” and a photo posted in a chat with the so-called BatClan.

It was obvious that the clone - for in fact, what else could it be, Danyal was long-since dead - was a poor, failed attempt at getting into Damian’s head. The eye color was off, the freckles in the wrong places. And really, Danyal would have better fashion sense than that.

No, it was clear Talia was doing her best to “test” him, though… really, he’d thought they’d moved on from clones at this point. Holding the memory of his dead twin over his head, and not even having the decency to do it correctly?

Now that was just rude.

Wayne Family Dumbasses:

Captain Stabby: Obviously this is a clone, and a poor attempt at it.

Captain Stabby: to think, the great Oracle has fallen so far.

Eyeinthesky: you sure about that, baby bat?

Eyeinthesky: you really wanna say that?

Captain Stabby: I believe I may have made a mistake.

===

No time like the present, taunted the green sticky note on Danny’s laptop screen. 

No time like the present his ass, Danny grumbled as he shuffled a few things onto his person. Day One of Gotham City, and he needed to investigate. He grabbed a jacket and a bookbag from his suitcase, tossing his computer, a thermos, a few emergency shots of ecto, and a good-sized ecto-pistol in easy reach, set to stun mode. First things first, Danny needed some Ancients-Damned coffee, and if he’d learned one thing, it was that cities were stuffed to the brim with coffee shops. 

“Jazz, I’m gonna go get some coffee and research,” he said softly, poking his head into Jazz's suite. “You want anything?”

A mop of red hair peeked up just barely over the edge of the decidedly-too-fluffy comforter. “...latte. Croissant.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“...locator,” his sister said after a moment’s consideration, muffled by the goose-down pillow. “Keep it on.”

“Obviously,” he chuckled, closing the door behind him quietly before slipping out of the hotel room, tossing his bag over his shoulder after one last check. The hotel was quiet at this time of morning, hardly after five, not quite daybreak, but the city outside? Oh, it was beautiful-- people walking briskly down the sidewalks, cars honking and revving and swerving around each other. Danny’s ears twitched slightly, his head tilted to the side before he pulled out his phone. 

“Coffee shop, coffee shop… Aha, here we go.” A mom-and-pop shop, a little ways down the road. Enough for a good walk. Danny plugged his earbuds in, turning on a playlist before putting his hands in his pockets. It only took a few minutes before he arrived, tugging out an earbud and pausing the objectively-too-loud punk rock playlist. “Uh, hi, so this is kind of a weird question, but… what’s the legal amount of caffeine you’re able to give me?”

“I don’t think there’s a legal limit, but you can only get, like, twelve shots I think,” the barista hummed thoughtfully. “Your shots would taste horrible, though-- doesn’t stop one of our regulars, though. I can get you one of his drinks?”

“Sure, why not. New city and all that,” Danny laughed, digging for some cash in his wallet. “I’m just here on business for a little while.”

The barista raised her eyebrow. “You seem pretty young to be on business.”

“Family business,” Danny clarified, handing over the money. “Oh, and can I get a caramel latte and a croissant?” 

Twenty minutes later, Danny was given a freshly-baked croissant and latte, and an absolutely terrifying-looking concoction. An iced coffee with the slightest bit of milk and sugar, so full of espresso that the milk hardly made a dent in the color. 

Danny took a sip, grinned, and left a 10 dollar bill on the counter before he headed out.

The barista just stared, then shook her head. “Fucking Waynes, am I right?” she muttered to her colleague, getting a laugh.

===

After delivering the latte to a decidedly grumpy not-morning-person Jazz Fenton, Danny pretty damn quickly booked it out of the hotel, idly checking his Twitter as he walked down the street, sipping on his latte. There was a local trending tab, and… well, shit.

 A decent quality photo of him paying for the coffee, his hair up out of his face in just. The worst possible shot for his plan to lay low. Already the hashtag #newwayne had 200,000+ tags, primarily users gossiping between each other with a few gossip magazines speculating. 

Really. One photo.

One.

Let it never be said that Danny, a fifteen year old idiot, had impulse control. He took a quick selfie, grinning as he took a sip of his coffee.  @halfdead : man, i just wanted a coffee.  TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

Damian was having a no-good, very bad day.

First, the nonsense with Gordon running into a clone, the clone acting oddly.

Second, the clone apparently operating Twitter to post a picture of himself with coffee, rapidly rising to viral fame. Father had already been receiving requests for interviews about the apparent doppelgänger of his youngest son, and if there was another adoption case in the works. 

The clone’s actions were smart, all things considered. By showing up in the public eye, its disappearance would cause some concern— unless they were somehow able to pass it off as Damian or a fluke. The cleanup from this particular strategy would take a while for the public to forget. 

Not to mention, Jon was being frankly insufferable about it. He’d “popped over for a visit”, planting himself firmly in Damian’s room (which he was not sulking in, thank you) until Damian talked to him. 

“He’s not a clone, is he?” Jon asked, thinking out loud as he inspected the selfie, zooming in on the features. “Dude, he has constellation freckles. Look close, here.”

Damian resolutely did not look at the phone. “Just another point that this is a failed clone,” he insisted. “My mother is getting desperate if she is resorting to this.”

“Damian, come on.” Jon tucked his legs up under himself on the bed, kicking off his boots at Damian’s halfhearted scowl. “What’s going on? You’re, like, super upset about this.”

Damian looked away, looked out the window as he padded over to the sitting bay, climbing into it smoothly. “It’s a long story, but I shall attempt to summarize— so long as you swear not to tell my father or yours. Or any of my siblings.”

“Cross my heart,” Jon agreed, going through the motions. “Total secrecy. Well, as much secrecy as you can get here.”

Damian hummed, waiting for Jon to climb up into the window seat with him, looking out over the gardens below. “My father’s adopted children are not… the only siblings I have ever had,” he started reluctantly. “I had an elder brother, albeit only older by a short amount of time.”

“Had?” Jon asked, tilting his head. Damian reached over to poke him between the eyes. 

“Quit that, you look like a sad puppy. Yes, had is the key word here. We trained to take on our separate roles, myself training to become Batman, and he… he would have been the Heir to the Demon,” Damian explained, his voice going soft. Jon noticed his eyes shift, lost in memories. “I am reluctant to admit it, but he was… superior to me in everything. It came naturally to him, whether the it in question was languages, stealth, deception, fighting. He was a true protege, a true heir to Ra’s al Ghul.”

“So… what happened?”

“I was not. I was… a disappointment to the al Ghul name,” Damian gritted out, his face hardening. “I was clumsy, and soft. I could not bring myself to kill.”

Jon stared for a moment. “You?”

“Yes, me,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “A surprise, I understand.”

“It’s just…. You?”

“Yes, yes,” Damian waved off. “We can return to this later. To summarize, we were given the directive. Ra’s only needed one heir, after all— Batman was not a necessary component of his empire, after all, and the League had recently… acquired Todd.” 

Snow blowing through his hair, his hands shaking as he held the katana pressed into his hands. It’s too big for him, unwieldy in his eight-year-old grip. Not strong enough, not willful enough. 

He was going to die, and it would have been all his fault. Not strong enough, fast enough, good enough.

Damian shook off the memory with a twitch of his shoulders. “He sacrificed himself for me, intentionally taking a mortal wound so that I could survive. I… I never truly understood why.”

Jon watched, concern flicking across his face. “Damian, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” he said, his voice soft, weary. 

Damian pressed on, his teeth ground together. “My mother must have… kept some of his DNA. Enough for this tactic, but not enough to be perfect,” he theorized. “Thus the imperfections in the clone. Even if it is imperfect… it stands to reason it would have all of his talent and skill, and could pose a threat. For all that I am trained in the art of killing… it came easier than breathing to him.”

“So… potential clone is super dangerous, got it,” Jon hummed thoughtfully. “Peak assassin.”

“In a sense.” 

“What’s his name?”

Damian hesitated. For a long moment, nothing was said, Jon and Damian looking out the window in a slightly tense silence. 

“You don’t have to-“

“Danyal,” Damian interrupted. “His name is- was- Danyal.”

===

Nobody ever called Danny Fenton smart. 

If you asked his peers, they’d say he was reckless, having failed most of freshman year and had to take remedial courses. Some would call him a dork, others would call him names. 

Most would call him impulsive, though. Including his older sister.

“I. Cannot. Believe you,” she said exasperatedly. “I let you explore for an hour. An hour. What happened to “stay under the radar”, Danny?”

“If I intentionally draw attention to myself as Danny Fenton,” he explained, “I’ll have Batman’s attention on my human self. He, hypothetically, will be too distracted on… me to notice Phantom doing his job.”

Jazz paused, her mouth which was previously open to lecture clicking shut. “That’s… either the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard, or one of the most devious. You’re intentionally directing his attention into something emotional to get him off his game?”

“Ding ding,” Danny grinned. “Besides, the minute we get back into Amity, we’ll drop off the radar. After enough time, people will think it was just a weird hoax or photoshop. Pretty much as soon as we got here, someone clocked me.”

“What- who?”

“Redhead on the wheelchair I knocked into,” Danny explained, spinning a pen lazily in his hand. “I look exactly like a young Bruce Wayne, Jazz. I don’t want anything to do with that… mess, I’m happy in Amity, you know that. I have responsibility there.”

Jazz sighed. “He’s still your dad, Danny.”

“Blood only. I don’t call Talia my mom.”

“Okay, Little Brother. Just… be careful, please? The Waynes are one of the richest families in Gotham. If you’re going to keep playing this game, you’re putting a big target on your back.”

“And I’m really, really good at dodging,” he said with a reassuring smile, moving over to sit on the bed and lean against Jazz. “The plan’s going just fine. I’m going to do recon tonight on the city barriers, see if I can’t find the limits of Red Hood’s haunt.”

“Just don’t get knocked into a building, please.”

“You wound me, Jazz. I even upgraded my suit and everything with extra armor and a mask. I’m taking precautions to keep myself from being linked with Phantom and everything.”

“Like?”

Danny transformed swiftly, leaning against the wall as he let his sister examine him. The only things that truly remained of his original jumpsuit, even after the upgrades he’d added over the last year, was the color scheme, the boots, and the emblem. Everything else was dramatically different. 

For one, his armor had added neon green accents, tracing along his shoulder guards, accenting his cape and knee pads. His torso, hips, and legs were deep black, with segmented armor providing better protection. Each piece was comparable in strength to high-caliber Kevlar, but magically enhanced to knit back together upon damage. Fabric draped across his hips called back to his armor from the League, and Danny took a moment to trace the familiar pattern with his fingertips. 

Instead of the long white gloves of his heroic persona, he’d swapped in white wrist bracers with black fingerless gloves, extra armor on the knuckles. His boots were the same, long and white with a rubber sole, but with added protection at his knees. 

The one true callback to his heroic persona was the emblem at his chest, pinning the cape together, the white insignia on a black pin. Above, only his eyes, hair, and ears were visible, from nose-down hidden by a sleek black respirator. His piercings had even changed from silver to matte black. 

Jazz whistled as she looked him up and down. “Yeah, I guess that’s as good a disguise as any, but why aren’t you using your regular set?” She asked, tilting her head. 

Danny shrugged. “It calls back to League armor. Any Bats seeing me would likely assume I’m an assassin on a mission, and won’t connect it back to me. And before they can get close enough, I’ll just drop from visibility.”

“Alright, Danny,” she hummed, ruffling his hair and deftly ignoring his protests. “Be safe, and stay on comms, okay?”

“I will,” he said, tucking the small green earbud into his ear. His had to be specially shaped due to the relatively recent taper of his ears, but hey, at least it made sure nobody else could use them. He reached into his duffel bag, tossing some emergency supplies into the bag at his lower back. Thermos, some ecto-shots in reinforced containers, bandages & antiseptic wipes, just in case. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up the hilt of his sword, pinning it to his side by tucking it into his belt. It would absolutely not work with anyone else, but due to Magic Ghost Powers, he can just… ignore gravity. 

It would never be the one from Before, but it was a good replacement. Well-balanced, and created of his own unbreakable ice. 

He tapped his earbud, the improved Fenton Fones crackling to life. “Testing, one-two,” he hummed as he turned invisible and intangible, floating up through the floors of the hotel to the roof. As it was daytime, he stayed invisible, looking over the city. “Can you hear me?”

“Coming in clear,” Jazz said. “How’s it looking?”

“Busy. I’m going to start mapping out the city, find those borders. Hood’s usually active at night, so with any luck, he’ll be asleep and I won’t get my shit rocked.”

“Please refrain from getting your shit rocked.”

“Doin my best!” Danny laughed, doing a loop-de-loop as he sped up, wind flowing through his hair and snapping his cape behind him. He circled the city, mapping the borders in his mind as he worked his way in. 

As he got to the eastern side of Somerset, Danny stopped sharp in his tracks. Okay, the vibes here?

Rancid. Holy shit. 

His parents, as protected from ectoplasmic radiation and liminality as their protective gear could provide, mentioned that ectoplasm smelled like battery acid mixed with a particularly sharp green apple. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, at varying levels of liminality, described it as a more sour apple smell. 

But to Danny? Pure ectoplasm, the ectoplasm of the Zone, smelled like a sweet Granny Smith apple, with a hint of an indescribable kick. 

This? 

The ectoplasm surrounding Park Row tasted fucking awful. Danny nearly gagged as he approached slowly. God, it tasted rotten, worse than a Lazarus Pit. And THAT was a high bar to cross. 

The emotions tangled in that hellhole of a district were just as complex. Anger, rage, protection, fear, anguish, to name a few. 

Danny sank to a nearby rooftop, leaning against a brick wall as he wrinkled his nose, thankful for the respirator that took the worst of the edge off the smell. “Okay, alright. Damn, I understand the issue now,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “Can you stop enhancing it now?”

Lady Gotham hummed as she approached. “Of course, my dear. I simply wanted to gain your attention.” Danny nearly sighed in relief as the smell receded, only faintly smelling of rotten apples mixed with way, way too many chemicals. “Though you now understand the problem, don’t you?”

“Oh, yep.” Danny chanced a glance at her, blinking slightly at her changed appearance. The Victorian visage was gone, replaced with a more modern floor-length black evening gown, a fur coat, and a black mourning hat with a veil. White pearls decorated her neck, with the same broach from before. Long black hair coiled over her shoulder in a braid, glowing violet eyes looking back at him from under the veil. “You look different, ma’am.”

“I have taken many appearances,” she giggled softly. “Different impactful events on my city’s history can affect them.”

“Ah, of course.” Danny knew better than to press. Asking a regular ghost how they died was a good way to get your teeth knocked in. Asking a city ghost which of their deaths influenced their appearance? You’d be lucky if you ever got within 100 miles of the place with all your limbs in place. “It fits you, my Lady.”

Gotham laughed, shaking her head. “Your politics lessons have treated you well, I see. Now, on to the matter at hand. My dear Hood has been… struggling. I believe you may remember him from your own childhood, the project your mother took on?”

Danny thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think so. The Revenant that was then dipped in the Pits? Yeesh, no wonder the poor guy’s like this.”

“Mm. As for his predicament, I’d like you to at least see what you can do. If you are able to get into proximity with Hood, you should be able to cycle out his ectoplasm for fresh using the ‘ecto-shots’ you keep on your person.”

“I can do my best, but…” Danny gave her a side glance. “You do know he’s, like, a mob boss, right?”

“And you are a former assassin,” she pointed out. “Your point?”

“Fair,” he acquiesced. “Alright. Come nighttime, I’ll scope the place out, get him a gift and all that. I’m not gonna trespass on someone’s haunt without bringing a “please don’t maim me” gift.”

“Such good manners,” Gotham praised, patting his hair. Danny gave in almost immediately, honestly. Gotham was still an unknown, and he wasn’t going to flinch away from these… almost grandmotherly tendencies. “If you have need of me, call; I can act as a mediator for Red Hood’s more murderous Rage.”

“Thanks,” Danny muttered, feeling more than hearing her disappear. “Go catch up with the murdering mob boss, Danny. Gee, I’d be happy to, Ms. City Ghost, boy howdy, I hope I don’t get stabbed again!”

He rubbed at his face, leaning against the wall as he shifted back into visibility for a moment. He was still working out some of the kinks in his powers, and long-term invisibility was one of them. Shadow manipulation (thank you, Johnny) was useful, but in the early morning facing east, he wasn’t likely to find any he could actually use. 

Regardless, he kept out of view of the street, his ears twitching as he surveyed the sounds and noises of the city. Man, Gotham was huge. Amity felt like a village compared to this, car horns, conversations, people moving and breathing and living constantly hitting him. If it weren’t for his practice at shutting things out, he would’ve had an overstimulation meltdown forever ago.

Danny sighed a little, pulling out his phone. The plan was working like a charm so far, with people comparing him to other members of the Wayne family. He flipped through a few of the tweets idly, then switched to his messaging app.

Halfalive: so it’s going well i think

Halfalive: gotham is scary but also weirdly wholesome

Halfalive: no progress on White tho, which sucks

Plantlady: youve also been there a total of 15 hrs

Plantlady: you have time

Techmaster: you don’t have to rush it yknow

Plantlady: we can handle ourselves

Halfalive: i know i know 

Halfalive: i just get weird vibes here yknow

Halfalive: i do NOT need the bats on my ass much less the League

Halfalive: either one of them tbfh

Plantlady: i still am so surprised about that whole Deal ™ 

Techmaster: you didnt meet him when we were kids

Techmaster: i thought he had rabies :( 

Halfalive: bitch please

Techmaster: YOU BIT ME!

Halfalive: YOU BIT ME BACK????

Plantlady: sweet ancients ok we get it youre both feral now moving on

Plantlady: if you see Dr. Ivy pls let her know that she is my favorite person

Techmaster: shes an ecoterrorist

Plantlady: and??

Techmaster: she’s a VILLAIN

Halfalive: hey, reformed villain

Halfalive: also i think they’re called rogues here

Plantlady: AND????

Halfalive: a n y w a y 

Halfalive: on one hand gotham is very pretty 

Halfalive: [image]

Halfalive: on the other hand holy shit there is so much smog here

Halfalive: i understand the ecoterroism thing tbh

Plantlady: i can be an ectoecoterrorist

Halfalive: sam no

===

Later, Danny would muse to himself that he really should have known better. No plan, regardless of how perfect, survives first contact with the enemy.

In his phantom assassin form (as Jazz was calling it, he really needed to stop letting her name things), he leapt from building to building, sticking to the shadows and intentionally dulling his inherent ghostly glow. On occasion, he’d simply disappear, throwing off any who may or may not be following him.

And, well. Maybe following the sounds of gunshots wasn’t his best plan to find a crime lord turned vigilante, but hey. Where else are you gonna find a crime lord?

And if he left a few people conveniently knocked out and tied up with sticky notes and the cops on their way, well. That’s nobody’s business but his own. 

Danny hesitated as he approached Park Row, evidently known as Crime Alley, what the fuck, honestly. That’s just asking for trouble, even he knew that. The smell of rancid ectoplasm tugged at his senses, and he… paused, near the border of the Revenant’s haunt. It was across the street, but Danny stopped, sitting down on the ledge of the building idly.

Maybe he could avoid pissing off the resident if he just…

He pulled out a piece of paper from his to-go notepad, scribbling something on it before folding it into a paper airplane, then sent it fluttering down across the street. A bit of power snaked around the airplane, keeping it from being too terribly affected by gravity as Danny guided it across, letting it fall on the building opposite him. Just enough ghostly power to get the Revenant’s attention, while being polite and cautious to show he doesn’t pose a threat.

Yes, he was posing a risk to his own plan by going out of his way to get Hood’s attention, but for one, it was a stipulation of his agreement with Lady Gotham herself to help him, and two, Danny wasn’t just going to let the guy suffer.

Pit Madness fucking sucked.

He sighed, tapping his earbud to turn the mic on. “Communication initiated,” he murmured. “Now we wait to see if the attempt was enough.” Idly, he scanned the area ahead of him, leaning against the wall lazily.

Footsteps behind him though, landing almost silently but with the crunch of gravel betraying their arrival, got his attention, even though he didn’t move. “You know, I never understood why people sit on ledges,” a voice said, cheer in their- his? - voice as they approached cautiously. 

Danny stifled a snort. “It’s got a decent view,” he hummed, not turning around. “Would be nicer if there wasn’t quite so much pollution, but hey, I guess that’s what happens when you keep locking up the plant lady so she can’t fix it.”

“There’s more ways to fix pollution than blowing up oil rigs and refineries.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Fair point. So, which one are you?” He shifted, turning to make eye contact with the probable-vigilante. 

For a moment, he thought it was Robin. Apparently Batman had picked up another one, causing a whole Deal with the third Robin. The fourth apparently wielded a sword, though, so this guy was out. Red and gold and black, with a golden bandolier criss-crossing his chest. Danny’d heard rumors that he wore a black cowl, but that was foregone tonight, evidently, a domino mask used instead as black, spiky hair was ruffled by the wind. 

Danny heard his breathing hitch as he made eye contact, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Ah. Red Robin, got it. So, what brings you to this corner of Gotham, Mr. Red Robin Sir?”

“Saw a weird cold spot on the map,” Red Robin said, his voice slightly more tense than before. “Decided to investigate, but I didn’t expect a teenager to be sitting on a ledge. You mind getting up away from that for me, by the way?”

“No need to stress.” Danny pushed himself up, stretching lazily as he turned. That, however, was apparently a bad decision, as Red tensed even further. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“You’re awfully chatty for an assassin.”

“Would be, wouldn’t I?” He laughed a little, shaking his head. “Too bad I’m retired.”

“And yet, you wear the armor of the League,” Red pointed out. “Sitting across the street from Park Row, and I saw you throw something over the street. Are we going to do this the easy way, or the fun way?”

“Calm down, traffic light,” Danny snickered, showing his open, empty palms. “I’m not here to cause trouble -- in fact, I’m here to help you out. Well, not you specifically, but one of you Bats. I guess this is better than brute-forcing my way into Hood’s territory and getting my shit rocked.”

Red visibly jolted. “Wh- you’re a kid. No adult uses that kind of lingo.”

“Uh, duh, dude,” Danny said, stretching his arms lazily above his head. “Now, can you get Red Hood here or not? I wanna talk to him.”

“Why?”

“Cause he has fuckin rabies, and your City asked me to do her a solid.”

“That… is not an explanation,” Red ground out.

“It is, you just don’t like it,” Danny retorted, a grin tugging at his lips under the respirator. “Now come on, man. Can you get him here or not?”

“Considering he’s a slightly genocidal maniac, I don’t think that’s a super great idea,” Red muttered. “Why do you want him here-- and don’t say rabies, I swear.”

“...Ghost rabies.”

“Jesus fucking hell,” Red groaned. “You’re worse than Nightwing, I swear to God.”

Danny just laughed as Red took a few cautious steps toward him, intentionally relaxing his posture and showing his lack of weapons, lack of intent. “Seriously, man. I just want to help him with his problem, get him some food, kickstart his immune system, and get the hell out of here. I don’t need all y’all fucking in my shit, you know?”

“And what shit is there to fuck in?”

“Shit you’re better off leaving to me.” His face turned serious. “Deadass. You do not want to get wrapped up in this, none of you do. Not the Bats and Birds, not your League, and definitely not John Constantine. Fuck that guy, honestly.”

“I-” Red just stared. “I am so confused right now. Aren’t we supposed to be fighting?”

“Yeah, we would be, but I have this, like, thing… anyway. I’m not out to cause any harm, mischief, or otherwise Bad Stuff. Scout’s honor, I promise.” He went through the motion of the Boy Scouts salute, failing halfway through. “Eh, I wasn’t a boy scout, give me some slack. Anyway. Can you get me Red Hood here, or not?”

Footsteps behind him, again, damnit he’s distracted, announced the arrival of yet more people. “I’m afraid not,” came the growl of the man he’s been so completely dreading. Shit, he should’ve booked it when he saw Red Robin in the first place. This is going terribly.

Oblivious to Danny’s internal panic, Batman loomed over the teenager, the shadows clinging to him and really hyping up the intimidation factor. “Why are you looking for the Red Hood?”

Danny took a slight step back, his boot scuffing the ledge. “Just wanna help the guy, honest to God,” he said. “I’m gonna reach back into my bag, is that okay? I don’t have a weapon.”

“What’s on your belt, then?” Batman challenged, gesturing to the hilt tucked into Danny’s belt. 

“Something I’m not gonna go for. I’ll even use my left hand to get the stuff from my bag, not my right, if that makes you feel better,” Danny offered. “Look, seriously. I just want to get this guy feeling better, then dip.”

A scoff caught his attention. “And we are supposed to believe that? You wear the armor of the League of Assassins, and are hunting the Red Hood, going so far as to seek out Red Robin and cause enough attention that we are brought in for backup. And yet, you insist you mean no harm?”

No.

Shit. Fuck. That’s not possible.

It couldn’t be possible. That’s not fair, that’s not right. 

Slowly, glowing green eyes tracked from Batman to the figure at his side, taking him in. Lean muscle, strong in the arms and legs, extra armor at his wrists and knees. A sword, a painfully familiar sword strapped to his hip. Red and green and yellow and black--

“...No fucking way,” Danny breathed. “You have got to be shitting me.”

“Excuse me?” Robin-- fucking Robin-- said, voice reflecting his disbelief. 

“You have got to be fucking with me!” Danny insisted, turning sharply to gesture at the sky. “Clocky, I am going to have your ass for this!” 

He whipped back around, his eyebrows furrowed. “You are supposed to be safe and not galavanting around on goddamn buildings, oh my God, I am going to skin Talia alive for this.”

Okay, maybe not the best thing to say, as everyone on the rooftop except Danny tensed. “Not- not literally! Jeez!”

“Who are you?” Batman intoned, his voice leaning against ‘threatening’ territory.