The man was huge, almost as large as Jack, and Danny was pretty sure he stood taller than Red Hood, who was no small man himself. His wrist was adorned with a Rolex, and he wasn't in the suit that Danny had always seen him in in pictures. Instead, he was wearing casual pants and a soft looking black wool turtleneck, paired with a dark peacoat to combat the winter chill.
"Bruce," Mr. Gordon greeted.
"Jim." They sounded familiar with each other, and their tones were friendly. Were they friends?
"Mr. Wayne," Danny said, stunned. What was someone like Bruce Wayne here?
"You look like Damian," Mr. Wayne stated, giving him a once over, none of his media tone entering his voice.
"Finally!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Someone who doesn't automatically think that I'm that guy!"
"'That guy' is my son," Mr. Wayne said, raising an eyebrow.
Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, right. I'm just glad that the twenty-first person I've met so far hasn't mistaken me for your son." He thought about it for a second. "Ah, but I don't know whether I should be happy that you realize it, or if I should be annoyed that it took twenty-one people."
"Why not be both?"
"Genius!" Danny said, snapping his fingers. Mr. Wayne's lips twitched.
"What's your name, lad?"
"Danny Fenton."
"Fenton?"
"What are you doing here, Bruce?" Mr. Gordon cut in, gesturing to Danny to take a seat on the couch. He plopped down on it, and observed their conversation.
"I got a call from the kidnappers." Oh yeah, it'd slipped his mind once Red Hood had appeared. "They said that they took my son, but when I checked, he was in his room, so I came to report the kidnapping. But it seems that I didn't need to."
"Yeah, Red Hood delivered him."
"Red Hood?" Mr. Wayne asked, raising his eyebrow again.
"He said he just got back."
"I see. Are his parents coming to pick him up?"
"His sister would've if I hadn't volunteered to drop him off."
"His sister?" Mr. Wayne frowned. "Would she have come here from Wayne hotel?"
"Wayne hotel?" Mr. Gordon frowned back.
"Yes. I invited his family since I wanted to take a look at the items that they sell."
Something akin to realization crossed his face. "Of course." It sounded more like a revelation than agreement to Danny.
Mr. Wayne didn't acknowledge it. "If Danny's okay with it, I can drop him off at his hotel instead. You still have a whole pile of work, Jim," he waved a hand at the stacks of white covering Mr. Gordon's desk.
Danny gave him a wary look. Was Mr. Wayne trying to kidnap him?
…what even was his life that he had to worry about adults kidnapping him and turning him into a weird science project?
Mr. Gordon let out a heavy sigh, and glared at the paper wearily. "Tell Tim that I completely understand how he feels."
Tim as in Tim Drake?!
Mr. Wayne smiled, one corner growing larger than the other in a half-smirk. "He already knows."
"You okay with this, Danny?"
Danny nodded, deciding to give Mr. Wayne the benefit of the doubt, and called Jazz again, informing her of the change.
"Are you serious, Danny?"
"When am I not?"
"When you accuse me of betrayal," she retorted dryly.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," he sniffed. "And yes, Mr. Wayne is right in front of me, asking if I want to ride with him. And I'm ninety-eight percent sure that he's the real deal."
"Alright, but I'll meet you outside the hotel."
He pocketed his phone, and looked up to see Mr. Wayne staring bemusedly at him. "Only ninety-eight percent?"
"Yup. The other two percent is if you're Bruce Wayne's clone, who was created using genetic engineering, a genetic template, and a buttload of goo by another billionaire," he grinned mischievously. But he wasn't too far off of how a certain billionaire cloned him.
"Human cloning doesn't exist, though."
Danny gave him a mock-pitying look. He wasn't sure why, but teasing Mr. Wayne felt completely natural to him, even with his history with Vlad. "Right, and I'm the king of Ancient Egypt."
"Technically they were Pharaohs."
"Tomato, tomahto." He withheld a snicker. Tucker's indignation was a funny thing to imagine.
"Alright, both of you go. His sister's probably worried out of her mind," Mr. Gordon said, shooing them from the office.
On their way out, an officer handed Danny a donut, which he took gratefully. He hadn't even eaten since that single pocky packet earlier. His stomach let out an annoyed pang even when he finished munching on it.
Mr. Wayne led him to the most expensive car he'd ever seen in his life and half-life. The paint shone even with the meager sunlight, and the beautiful silver neither hurt his eyes nor made him want to stop looking. He almost ran a hand on it before he caught himself.
Too bad he'd never be able to afford something like that.
Wait… when he became ghost king, wouldn't he inherit a crapton of money from Pariah Dark? So couldn't he afford his own?
The answer was HELL YES.
Mr. Wayne shook him out of his stupor by sliding into the driver's seat and turned his head to give Danny an amused smile. "You coming?"
"Yeah, Mr. Wayne!" He slipped into the shotgun, admiring the beautiful leather seats, and they began moving.
They sat in silence for a minute before Danny decided to break it. Or, more accurately his stomach did. It let out a displeased rumble, and Mr. Wayne glanced at him. "You hungry?"
"Nope!" he answered too quickly. His stomach gave another traitorous rumble. He glared at it.
"Well I am, so let's stop at Mrs. Chen's place." Before Danny could protest, he took a U-turn, and turned the curb. They parked in front of a Chinese restaurant. It wasn't classy, but cozy, and a place you could easily miss. It wasn't somewhere Danny was expecting a friggin' billionaire to go to.
"Mr. Wayne, you don't have to do that."
"I already told you. I'm hungry. Also, call me Bruce."
"Is that really okay?" he asked dubiously. He'd never called a human adult by their first name before. Maybe in his mind, sure, but out loud?
Never.
—Bruce snorted softly. "All my kids call me Bruce. Except for my youngest, Damian."
"Yeah, about that, how come you pretended I was Damian even after I called you Mr. Wayne?" he asked as they entered the restaurant. Because now that he was with Mr. Wayne for more than a handful of minutes, he realized that man was much more intelligent than the media gave him credit for. He'd obviously figured out that the kidnappers hadn't kidnapped his own son the second Danny had spoken.
"They would've shot you otherwise."
Danny stumbled, but Mr—Bruce steadied him. "What?!"
"Quiet down," he ordered, letting the few pairs of eyes that darted up slide back down to their meals. "Yes, they would've killed you. They would've had no reason to keep you around if they knew you weren't Damian, and you'd already seen their faces, so keeping you alive wouldn't have been a benefit to them."
Danny mentally snorted. Yes. Alive .
Even if he'd been shot by a bullet, he would've healed within a day or so. His bruises took a few hours, but something more serious would take up to a day, and then another week to stop being sore.
He knew because he'd been shot by enough ecto-guns, so he was pretty sure it'd be the same for a regular gun too.
If it was a shot to a major body part, like his brain or something, he wasn't sure if he'd even recover to his normal halfa self.
"You know, my sister was right, you're not as dumb as you act," he said without thinking, then clamped his mouth shut, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks. "I-I mean—"
Bruce's chuckling paused his attempt at an apology. "It's fine, lad. I've been called worse things." He then turned to the restaurant owner, Mrs. Chen, and spoke in rapid Chinese. She nodded, then went into the kitchen to begin cooking whatever Bruce had ordered.
"What did you order?"
"Nothing too much. Just a few dumplings and Chow Mein."
"Why did you offer to give me a ride back? You could've just let Mr. Gordon do it," he asked as he sat on a wooden chair.
Bruce took a seat across from him, still looking prim. "Well, in truth, I was curious about you. It's certainly not everyday that a kidnapper calls me saying that they have my son, who was in the manor with me," he said as one of the waiters put a plate of appetizers in front of them.
"It's not everyday I get kidnapped," Danny shrugged, picking up a spring roll.
"Have you ever seen a ghost before?" Bruce asked, and he paused mid-bite at the suddenness of the question.
"Yeah, several times a day. Why?"
"Interesting. And no reason other than curiosity. Ghosts are rather strange to think about."
"Yeah, it's not like we have aliens or magic in the world. So very strange," Danny deadpanned. Inwardly, a little bud of distrust began to sprout. People never asked anything just for 'curiosity.' Knowledge was everything, and someone asking about ghosts was never good.
Bruce's lips did their little twitch thing.
"You remind me of my son." One of the waiters placed their plates of Chow Mein and dumplings down.
"Damian?" he answered, trying his best to make it seem like he wasn't stuffing his face. He was just. Too. Hungry. His appetite was huge. You would think it was the opposite, with him being half dead and all, but nope.
"You might look like him, but no. I was talking about my second son, Jason," Bruce shook his head, taking a dignified bite of his noodles.
It took him a moment to realize that he was having a casual lunch with a billionaire.
What the hell.
Danny swallowed down a mouthful and helped himself to a dumpling. "How so?"
"You're both smartasses," the man answered dryly.
Jason unlatched his helmet as he unhooked one leg from his motorcycle. It was good to finally be back home. Helping Roy with a multi-gang war was fun and all, but he enjoyed being home more. It was even better since the gang war took less time than expected.
Tim was curled up at the Batcomputer with the ever present bags around his eyes darker as he sifted through some files. Jason furrowed his brow when he saw pictures so blurry that you couldn't even make anything out. He rested his arms on the chair as he leaned over.
"What's all this shit, Timbers?"
"Hey, Jay," Tim murmured absently, trying in vain to make the resolution clearer. "Just some photos."
"You'll never guess what I saw today," he started conversationally. "I think we've got a Damian clone on our hands. He even scoffs the same damn way."
Jason stumbled when Tim immediately swerved around. "You saw him?!"
He scowled, removing his leather jacket to rub his arms. "Yes, I saw him. Hell, I gave the kid a ride to the Commish's office after he got kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?"
"Just some random guys who thought they could make a quick buck."
"Did you get a sample?" Tim asked, making grabby hands.
"Who do you take me for? Of course I got a sample." He handed over the bag with a little bit of hair that he'd managed to nab.
Tim snatched it as soon as it was within range, and fed the sample to the computer to compare with a sample with Damian's name as a label. "Now we wait. Even with the Batcomputer's new upgrades, the process will still take an hour to finish running."
"Who is this kid?"
"We've been trying to find out. We discovered him a couple days ago. I'll fill you in since I got caught up in research for the last few days to actually fill you in. It starts with the new hero we met."
Jason frowned. "New hero?"
Pulling up the image that Vicky Vale had apparently taken and written an article on, Tim placed it side by side with the one they had taken of Damian yesterday. "Yeah. He's a ghost hero. Did you know ghosts are real? Because apparently Constantine did and neglected to inform anyone else."
"I'm an undead vigilante, of course I know ghosts are real," he rolled his eyes.
"And you didn't think to tell anyone either?" Tim sighed, beginning to run the test. While the Batcomputer scanned their faces, Jason changed out of gear into a more comfortable shirt and sweatpants.
"Nope."
"Well, after we found out ghosts were real, we also found out that so are ghost hunters," he sighed again, louder than before. "When B was looking for the ones the new hero, Phantom, mentioned, he stumbled on two ghost hunters. Jack and Maddie Fenton."
"I'm guessing they're important."
Tim huffed a dry laugh. "Maybe they are. Maybe they're not. Anyhow, it was their son who caught our attention."
Jason connected the dots. "He's the kid I saved."
"Yep."
"Well, all I can tell you is that the kid apparently loves Red Hood, and smiled so much I got creeped out."
"The mighty former crime boss and most feared vigilante in Gotham got creeped out?" Tim teased, a small snicker making its way through his mouth.
"Yeah, haha, laugh it up. But you can not tell me a Damian look-alike smiling in awe at you isn't unnerving."
"I can't actually," he replied smugly.
"You're a brat, you know that?"
"So you remind me every time you see me," Tim said breezily. Jason rolled his eyes.
"87.2% match," the Batcomputer announced robotically.
Tim narrowed his eyes, all his amusement fading, replaced by his mission face. "Again."
"93.49% match."
"Again."
"95.98% match."
"Again."
"98.29% match."
"Again."
"99.42% match."
"Again."
"99.42% match"
"Again!"
"99.42% match."
"Timbit, I'm pretty sure that's all it'll go."
Tim grit his teeth. "I don't know what's worse. A possible clone, or that Talia possibly hid Damian's twin from us."
"I'm pretty sure it's the second one." Jason rested a hand on Tim's shoulder. "But we'll figure it out. For now, let's just wait for the sample to be analyzed. Now, tell me more about this new hero."
"He's a fan of yours."
"Huh, two in one day. Go me."
"He's also afraid of either electricity or experiments on ghosts. It's probably both, though, but the former might have some personal connection to him." Tim's voice grew solemn. "Jason, he died at around the same age you did."
Jason stiffened.
"We theorized that that might be why he likes you so much, but it's just a theory. We can't say for sure until we're able to confirm. It's frustrating that I can't pull up the cowl footage, though."
Jason threw him a confused look. "Why?"
"Because he keeps blurring out of it." Tim gestured to the photos on the screen. "His voice becomes these garbled growls, and I think we only managed to notice him because our cowl footage was off. And because he wanted us to notice him. Also, the electrophobia was probably why he was afraid of Dick."
"He was afraid of Dick?" Jason raised an eyebrow.
A small smirk slipped onto his face. "Want to see Big Bird's face?"
Jason grinned. "Hell yeah."
An hour later, the computer announced something which resulted in bewilderment, suspicion, and a confused call to Bruce.
"Error. Too many inconsistencies and unknown materials. Subject Daniel James Fenton's DNA sample could not be compared."
They got back in the car after Danny had finished all the noodles on his plate. It wasn't enough to satisfy him completely, but enough that his stomach wouldn't start growling again for at least an hour.
"What's Amity Park like?" Bruce asked once they had nearly gotten back to the hotel.
"It's… not very normal?"
Because really, what was he supposed to say?
'Oh it's just your average ghost-infested city with crazy hunters. We get attacked every few hours, but the government hides it, so the Justice League has no clue!'
Yeah, no.
"Neither is Gotham," Bruce replied easily.
"I see," Danny said awkwardly, fingering his ring.
The rest of the drive was quiet, and Danny pretended he didn't notice the subtle glances that Bruce kept giving him. When they pulled up by the hotel's entrance, he spotted Jazz flitting around, pacing with her phone out. She looked up when she spotted the silver car.
As soon as Danny stepped out of the car, he was dragged into a hug, before his sister pulled back to observe if he had any injuries. He didn't know why she did that whenever he got injured since he would just heal, but the sentiment was nice.
Bruce cleared his throat behind him.
"Thank you for driving him back, Mr. Wayne," Jazz said politely while Danny squirmed out of her arms.
Just as he did with Danny, Bruce told Jazz to call him by his given name. "It's just Bruce, please. And I was happy to."
"Of course," Jazz said skeptically.
"Come with your parents to my manor tonight," Bruce offered. "You can interact with my children while your parents and I talk business."
Jazz and Danny glanced at each other.
Was it possible to say no?
"We'd like that," Jazz smiled.
Of course it wasn't.
Bruce didn't seem too bad, but how was he supposed to talk to a bunch of rich kids without them looking down on him?
"Excellent. I hope to see you tonight then."
They watched as Bruce drove off before Jazz dragged him back into the hotel, not stopping until they were back in the room.
"Where's Mom and Dad?" Danny asked when he didn't spot them anywhere. He saw their clothes for the meeting neatly (which was a shock) splayed on the bed, but they weren't anywhere in sight.
"They went out for lunch. You actually called when they were having lunch, so they just called me," Jazz said, her mouth pressed into a firm line, sitting on the other bed. "Care to tell me how the hero of Amity Park got kidnapped?"
"I was just walking around!" Danny protested, crossing his arms.
Jazz raised an eyebrow.
Danny stared.
Jazz raised her other eyebrow.
Danny broke.
"Alright, fine, I was walking around the Gotham City Bank. I just wanted to see how it actually looked. I didn't expect to be friggin' dragged into a cliche kidnapping vehicle," he said petulantly.
"Why does this not surprise me?" Jazz rolled her eyes. "At least nothing happened to you."
Danny's pout shifted into a bright grin. "I would've gotten myself out, but then Red Hood showed up!"
Jazz did a double-take. "Red Hood?!"
"The one and only," he said smugly, pulling out the autograph that he'd gotten earlier. "He even gave me an autograph!"
It was officially his newest most prized possession.
"Why did Bruce Wayne give you a ride back?"
"He also treated me to lunch."
Jazz furrowed her brow. "Okay, I repeat, why did Bruce Wayne give you a ride back, and treat you to lunch?"
"Apparently I look like his son, Damian Wayne. It's why I got kidnapped in the first place," he sulked.
Why him?
Jazz unplugged her phone from where it was charging, and furiously typed something out. She scrolled a little before she choked on nothing but the air, and gained a dumbfounded expression.
"Danny, you don't just look like him, you look completely identical to him! Even your scowls look the same!"
Danny threw her a wary look. "How long has Vlad been trying to clone?"
"Definitely not for sixteen years," she snorted. "He was still in the process of becoming a billionaire back then. We should also rule out the idea of a speed grown clone since Vlad only started cloning since you became a ghost, and there are pictures of Damian Wayne from when he was ten. If you were anyone else, I'd say congrats, one of the seven people who look like you is super famous, but since you're you, I highly doubt that's the case."
"Maybe it is just one of the seven people who look like me," he said hopefully. Please please please be just a person who looks like him—
"Have you seen your luck?"
Ancients.
"Right, which means it's not that," he sighed, wiping a hand on his face. "We have no leads, so let's just deal with that when it comes our way. I'll tell Sam and Tuck that we reached Gotham, and to see if they can find anything out. We're meeting the guy tonight, so let's see how he acts. Let's observe his kids too. Maybe it'll help us."
Jazz gave him a smile that he couldn't interpret.
"What?"
"It's just that you've grown to be pretty responsible over the years."
"I fight an average of six to seven ghosts a day while going to school. I think responsibility is a necessity," he said dryly.
"Yeah, but I was expected you would learn it after becoming an adult, not when you were a fourteen-year old, and I still helped you with laundry," she responded, her smile dimming.
"At least I learned the hard way to separate whites and colored," he grinned, trying to make her smile come back. What kind of brother was if he made his sister upset?
It worked.
"Yeah," she smiled.
A spark of familiar blue caught his attention before it transformed into an entire glowing circle. A clock hand appeared and spun clockwise, revealing Clockwork. "Daniel. Jasmine."
"Clockwork," Jazz greeted with a nod, too used to the ghost appearing completely out of nowhere.
"Hey Clockwork," Danny said brightly. The small rumble from his chest that appeared whenever he saw the older ghost relaxed him. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to show you a number of things before you can be crowned king." He looked at Jazz for silent permission.
"What kind of things?" she asked.
"Nothing too much today. He needs to get his robes outfitted, and if we have time, I'll show him one of his new vaults."
"I get a robe?!"
"Of course you do."
"About the vaults," Jazz started, "how many are there? Because I need to know if Danny just became the richest person-slash-ghost on the planet."
"The richest in history," Clockwork hummed. "Not including Pariah Dark himself, of course."
Jazz exhaled. "Okay. Okay. And the robes?"
"Daniel will need one for his coronation. Another few for council meetings, and several more for everyday ventures to the ghost zone."
"Living arrangements?"
"He'll need to stay in the ghost zone for a few hours a day of his choosing for a few months to help get everything back in order, but otherwise it will be fine for him to remain with you."
"And the council?"
"It consists of myself, Pandora, Nocturn, Undergrowth, Princess Dorathea, Frostbite, a few others that you have yet to meet, and formerly Pariah Dark, with Daniel now in his stead. The observants—"
"Wait, hold up!" Danny interrupted, making a time-out motion. "Why are Nocturn and Undergrowth part of the council too?! They've attacked people before, and I've had to kick their butts for it!"
"Perhaps. However, they are also nearly as old as Pariah Dark, and are part of the original six founding members. They have cemented their places and are essential to the council."
"Does everyone agree that they should be there?"
"Of course not. While attacking humans once or twice isn't enough to be charged, as ghosts live for eternity unless they are destroyed, continuous assault on humans, or actions that have resulted in casualties are. The Observants and the council are more lenient on Undergrowth and Nocturn because our rules are lax due to Pariah Dark's inadequate leadership. It doesn't hurt that they helped during Pariah's Forever Sleep. Everything was chaotic from the start of his reign, and only got worse afterwards."
"So they just get off attacking people scott-free?"
"Unfortunately."
"Then how do we change that? How does this whole system even work?" Danny took a more comfortable spot on the bed. This might be a longer discussion than he thought it'd be.
"The king is at the top. He is the main decision maker. No one can overrule his word, and no one would dare to try. The king oversees everything that happens within the realm, and it is his job to provide stability to all ghosts, their lairs, and their cities."
"So much to unpack there," Danny muttered. This whole king job was starting to sound like it was a lot more trouble than he signed up for.
Oh well, no going back now.
"Ghosts have cities?" he sighed as he dropped his head, because at this point, he was just going to try to roll with everything he was being told.
"Yes. The many doors that you've seen are connected to a ghost's lair. These lairs in turn are connected to buildings. If you have enough lairs, every lair in a certain area is going to come together into a building that will be absorbed into the city closest, and connected to it. If you have enough buildings, a city is formed. The oldest residents will take charge once the city has reached a specific limit, or inhabitants, and there are specific regulations and laws that you will learn later on."
"Then what's the problem?" Jazz questioned, face showing how immersed she was in their discussion. "Everything looks fine there."
Clockwork grimaced. "While this system has worked for countless centuries, the older ghosts have started becoming corrupt, and do not allow younger ghosts to take their place after a few hundred years. It has always been a cycle, and the older ghosts are ruining it. No laws have changed because of this, and the newer ghosts from the more recent eras are suffering."
"Well crap," she said, closing her eyes.
"We're getting off topic. Let's finish conversing about the council, then I'll tell you two the rest about what Daniel is going to be dealing with."
Damian sat with a grim expression as he watched his father enter the Batcave. He paused to nod at where he, Richard, Jason, Cassandra, Duke, and even Stephanie were lounging on the sparring mats before he and Timothy began discussing. Damian zoned out of the conversation. He knew he shouldn't, but right now he couldn't care.
Just a few days ago, he was sitting in the Manor with just his siblings (and Stephanie, his somewhat cousin, he supposed) watching a movie, and now, all of a sudden, there was someone who was turning their world upside down.
He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole clone-but-most-likely-twin-brother thing. On one hand, he felt rage. He didn't know why Mother would keep another son a secret from him, and he didn't know why… why Mother let him out of the League.
(Was Damian not good enough to be allowed to leave with him?)
It wasn't fair that Mother loved that child more than she loved him. He was the one who she'd spent the most time with, and he had no doubts that she truly loved him. But her love for her other son appeared to be more.
If he had been the same age as when he'd arrived at the Manor when he'd heard this, he'd have probably gone off in a quest to go kill his twin in an attempt to prove to both Mother and Grandfather that he was the only heir to the League of Assassins. The fact that he had family that had no clue about the life that he led would've been unacceptable to mini him. But now, he felt a little numb.
His-his brother had no idea about their lives. It was very likely that he was a civilian who didn't know about everything happening behind the flashy scenes, or anything that Damian's family had done or gone through.
Of course there was still a chance that he could be a clone, especially with the results that the test had given, but if he was being honest with himself, he knew deep inside that he wasn't.
On the other hand, he felt a little, as much as he detested the word and feeling associated with it, giddy. He wanted to see someone who didn't have nightmares every other day, and whose similar face was clear of all the stress that Damian was used to. He wanted to meet him, to observe him, to figure him out.
"You alright, Baby Bat?" Stephanie's voice startled him out of his thoughts.
"I'm fine. Or at least I will be."
"You don't have to be," Richard said quietly.
"The test is inconsistent, so we'll need to draw blood if we want something more accurate," Timothy asked, a disgruntled look on his face.
"We'll wait until tonight. Damian, I'm tasking you with the job of getting a sample of blood. Civilian method."
Meaning that no knives, syringes, swords, guns, or weapons were allowed. "Understood."
"Jason, you get some rest. All of you know your jobs. Get as much information as you can without raising any red flags. I'll see if the parents know anything."
Father's mouth was set in a firm line.
"We will be getting to the bottom of this."
"To continue with the council, after the king are the Observants. They make more of the important decisions, but can be ruled out by the council. They've been attempting to keep the balance in the Zone."
"Obviously they aren't doing a very good job of it," Danny muttered, mouth twisting in annoyance as remembered the whole Dan incident with a shudder.
All Clockwork offered was a shrug. "Third are the actual council members. We each have our sections of the ghost zone, and we come together every few weeks to discuss the state of things. Usually nothing particularly important happens, but I expect that will change when you become king."
"Where's your area?"
"I am an exception as I am the Master of Time. Pandora is the one who represents the region that you spend most of your time in. Frostbite's section is our neighbor."
"Are there any sort of politics Danny needs to know?"
"All he needs right now is to prepare a speech, as well as get his robes fitted. He'll learn base politics at a later date."
"A speech? I'm not looking forward to that," Danny groaned.
"If you need help, just come to me, okay?"
He sent her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jazz."
Clockwork caught their attention again. "What I've told you is the bare minimum of the council's proceedings. You'll have tutors to help you understand everything on a higher spectrum, but right now we need to get your robe fitted. After all, I'd rather you not show up in only your costume."
Danny threw him an indignant look. "You're the one who gave it to me! Besides, it's amazing. It's got pockets! You can't tell me pockets aren't a necessity in life!"
"I'm glad you like it. But showing up in only that won't indicate your king status properly. Especially on your coronation day."
"Then get going," Jazz shooed. "You two only have four hours before we have to leave."
Danny frowned, remembering where their parents were. "It's 3 p.m. Why are Mom and Dad even out for lunch?"
"They kept blabbering about ghost stuff, and completely forgot until I reminded them, like usual."
Ah, that made sense.
"Come, Daniel," Clockwork said, and the next moment, the familiar walls of the Clocktower surrounded them. Danny didn't even blink, completely used to this.
"So which way? I didn't think ghosts actually had jobs, if I'm being honest."
"We will be going to the nearest city. This area is currently the area with the highest crime rate. So brace yourself for a real city, Daniel."
"How different can it be?"
"You'll be surprised," was all Clockwork said before he motioned for Danny to follow him. Excitement flared through him as he did. He was finally going somewhere where ghosts wouldn't attack him, or try for world domination!
Maybe if he was lucky, he might even get a nice 'Hello' instead of a 'I will have your pelt, Ghost Child!'
The older ghost began leading him down a route that he'd never explored before. He'd wanted to explore it a while ago, but life had gotten in the way, and he completely forgot. Everything would've felt the same if he was fully human, but since Danny wasn't, different paths felt similar, but not identical. It'd taken him a while to realize that, but once he did, it was nice to know which way he was going.
Danny didn't notice the minutes passing by as he memorized the route. He only snapped out of his thoughts when Clockwork announced that they were at the doorway.
To be completely honest, he'd just expected a normal door. He did not , however, except a friggin' door the height of Aragon's dragon form towering above. Danny gaped at them, completely enthralled by the gigantic navy blue door covered in intricate gold carvings, so different from the purple doors that surrounded them. Bifurcated stairs led up to it, and arches ran along the sides. Purple mist curled inwards and outwards, giving the doors a more mystical look.
Danny flew up to the door and laid a hand on it. He could feel the life (afterlife?) buzzing from behind it. "Woah."
"Save your shock for the city, Daniel."
He nodded dumbly.
"Do all city doors look like that?"
"Their base colors are different, but otherwise, yes, they are the same," Clockwork affirmed, pulling on one of the handles that were the same height as Danny himself. A white light engulfed both of them as they flew inside.
Danny didn't know what he was expecting, but a large room with a bunch of ghosts behind multiple desks from wall to wall certainly wasn't it. Taking a look around, he noticed that the ghosts had papers and pens in front of them, as well as thin dividers of wood cutting one section from another to form pairs, just like some office desks had.
The ghost that Clockwork approached didn't even look up, just pulling up two metal disks the size of Danny's palm. "Name?"
"Clockwork and King Phantom."
The ghost snapped his head up that Danny was concerned about his neck for a hot second before remembering that he was a ghost.
"Please forgive me!" the ghost cried out, immediately rounding his desk and dropping down to his knees, then bending down even lower to place his hands in front of his head which touched the floor in a recognizable bow. Every ghost stopped what they were doing to gawk.
"King Phantom?!"
"The king is here!"
"Everyone bow down!"
"Woah, woah, woah!" Danny yelped, quickly going onto one knee and touching his shoulder. Oh, Ancients, was this what it was going to be like from now on? He couldn't imagine any of the ghosts he fought regularly bowing to him. It'd be like eating toast . "Please get up. You really don't have to do that. Like, please don't."
The ghost perked his head up. "My king?"
"I'm not king yet. I'll be crowned in about a month."
"King Phantom, we've been expecting you, and we're truly honored that you've decided to visit our city. I hope that you will enjoy your stay," the ghost babbled excitedly.
"Thank you? Also, what's your name?"
"Carver, my King. My name is Carver."
"Alright, Carver. And, um, can everyone else please get up too?" All the ghosts scrambled to follow his words as if they were an order. "Great. Now, Carver, can you explain what the metal things are for?"
"Your Majesty, all guests receive one permission disk to mark that they don't live in the city. It's a system that has been there longer than I've been a ghost. Of course you'll be given a golden one which is reserved for the king and the council members. Once you're done, please bring them back here so that we can keep them in storage for the next time you visit!"
"Uh, thanks." He turned to face his guardian ghost with a pleading expression that screamed 'Help' better than the words themselves could.
Clockwork just smiled serenely.
(Though Danny was pretty sure there was a smirk somewhere there.)
Danny glared, then turned his attention back to the ghosts in front of him. "Alright, um, you can just put Phantom on mine?" He was pretty sure Clockwork already had one of these things.
"Of course, sir! Petra, can you get Lord Clockwork's?" Carver beamed, going back to the metal disks on his desks. He swapped them both for one thinner golden one and, just like his name indicated, carved Danny's name on the disk with some tool that Danny had never even seen before.
Another ghost nodded and disappeared behind a door behind her desk. She came back in a few seconds with a gold disk identical to Danny's.
Carver quickly attached them to cloth ribbons and handed them over. "Please keep them on when out in public, and please don't cover them with other clothing articles. I hope you enjoy your stay, my King!"
"Yes, please do!"
"Uh, thanks Carver, Petra and everyone else." The ghost's smile stretched even more, and he looked like he was about to explode.
Clockwork flew over to the two larger doors, and the two guard ghosts next to it stared at them in awe. Or at least, Danny was pretty sure it was awe. Everyone's faces unnerved him. It was so weird not having ghosts come up to him and start a fight.
In unison, they pulled two large keys from the pouches on their sides and unlocked the doors on both sides, then gave the door a little shove.
Danny's jaw dropped.
"There's something wrong with their home situation," Bruce said as he entered the living room. As soon as Alfred had declared that there were muffins ready, all his children had rushed upstairs. Bruce had given them ten minutes to relax before he headed up as well.
"The two Fenton kids?" Steph asked, taking a bite out of her freshly baked muffin.
"Who else?" Tim scoffed from his splayed position on the sofa. Cass snatched the remote from his hand and switched the channel. "Hey!"
Dick looked up at him as he placed a plus four card down. "Color's red. What's wrong with it, B?"
"Dammit Richard!"
Dick smiled smugly.
"I win!"
"Dammit Jason!"
"You snooze, you lose, Big Bird."
"Danny and Jasmine are being neglected."
That put a stop to all activities in the room.
"What do you mean, B?"
"What did you see?"
"Better question is what did you hear?"
"B, do we need to get them out?"
"Enough!" Bruce boomed, putting one hand up. "Let me finish first before you all start attacking me. I mean that I overheard Jim's call to Madeline Fenton. From his reaction, it appeared that Madeline hung up on him without even giving the fact that her son was at the police commissioner's office. Danny didn't appear to be surprised either."
"Well crap," Tim exhaled.
"Yes, new siblings!" Dick pumped his fist.
"Yeah, but you're late by like a year, B," Jason said.
Duke beamed. "I'm not the newest anymore. Hallelujah!"
Cass smiled. "A new brother and sister."
Bruce stared at them. "Who said I'm adopting them?"
He stared even harder when they all snorted in unison.
"Father, you have a tendency," Damian gestured to all his siblings (plus somewhat cousin). "Besides, one of them could be my biological brother."
Bruce softened. "How do you feel about that, Damian?"
He wasn't surprised when he received only a shrug.
"What's he like, B? Jason's the only one who's actually met him. It's so not fair," Dick whined.
"He looks exactly like Damian. But I'm pretty sure that's where the similarities end," Bruce snorted softly, remembering the boy from a few hours ago. "He's like Jason."
"A jerk?"
"Acknowledged and accepted, Steph. Acknowledged and accepted."
"No. He's a smartass," Bruce sighed and placed a placating hand again before they could protest. "Yes, I know you're all smartasses," he rolled his eyes when all of them preened, "but his snark is more like Jason's. He's a nice kid, though, and eats like food is going out of style. He didn't even notice when I ordered more."
"I'm not surprised. Aren't most neglect cases like that?" Duke mused.
Alfred poofed into existence next to Bruce. "I trust that you have invited the two children here for dinner to come along with Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. I shall prepare more then."
Jason scrambled to get to his feet as the butler moved swiftly back to his domain. "Wait up, Alfie! I'll come help!"
"Of course, Master Jason. Now, which do you believe is better? Slow simmered burgundy beef stew? Or shall we make braised short ribs with gravy?"
"Definitely the slow simmered burgundy beef stew," Jason answered, disappearing into the kitchen.
"Did you find Talia yet?" Tim asked.
Bruce's grimace was his only answer.
"How're you going to get the blood sample, Dami?" Dick changed the topic, sprawling himself over Damian.
Damian grunted. "By punching him in the face."
"Didn't peg you for someone so unsubtle," Duke muttered.
"No," Cass said disapprovingly.
"Don't punch our soon-to-be brother!" Dick exclaimed.
"Please don't," Tim groaned.
"Really?" Steph asked, delighted, before stuffing the rest of the muffin in her mouth.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Yes, I will punch him with my fist. Blood will leak gloriously like a fountain in the battlefield," Damian deadpanned. "No, you imbeciles. Have any of you heard of a joke?"
"Baby Bat's all grown up, and making terrible jokes!" Steph grinned.
"As if. My jokes are the essence of quality."
Tim snorted.
"B," Dick called, jogging down into the cave. "Any luck with finding out what Ra's wants with Phantom?"
Bruce let out a grunt.
Which, in Batspeak, was a big fat no.
"And we still haven't found Talia. Wonderful," Dick muttered.
So many things had come up, and it hadn't even been a week since he'd arrived in Gotham.
God dammit.
But it was fine since a bubbly feeling made its way through his chest like it always did when he found out Bruce adopted/was in the process of adopting another kid. And this one had the added bonus of possibly being Damian's twin, so there was that.
But he hoped Danny wouldn't be exactly like Damian.
Because beloved brother or not, Dick did not need a repeat of watching his back for an assassination attempt twenty-four seven.
He'd already had his fair share for a lifetime even without including Jason's, thanks.
Dick grumbled internally as he opened his mouth. Losing a game of rock paper scissors to Tim was the worst.
"So, B—"
"No," Bruce interrupted, not even looking up from the Batcomputer.
"You didn't even let me finish!" Dick protested hotly. Because, rude .
"You and your siblings want to fan across the city and call or talk to your contacts to see if you can find Talia."
Right. World's greatest detective.
"So can we?"
God. He was nearly thirty, but he felt like the kid who slept in Bruce's lap again.
"No."
"Why not?" No, Dick did not just whine.
"Because the Fentons are coming in four hours."
"So? Calling all our contacts won't take four hours."
He winced as he said that.
Talking to contacts usually took anywhere from two minutes to a whole half an hour, depending on their bargaining methods. And with how many they each had, it could take more than a night to see if they knew anything.
Bruce gave him a look, and he winced harder.
"Alright, fine. You win, we won't. Besides, it was Tim's idea anyway." Yes. He did indeed just throw his baby brother under the bus.
Did he regret it?
Hell no.
God knows how many times Tim did it to him.
"Of course it was," Bruce sighed. "And I better not see any of you kids sneaking out to do it anyways."
"Fine. Fine," he grumbled, before switching to the other reason he'd come down to the cave. "How do you feel, B?"
"Fine."
Dick rolled his eyes, and pulled the rolling chair back, then turned it to face him. Bruce huffed, but didn't protest as he folded his arms.
"We just found out about a ghost superhero who Ra's wants to get his geezer hands on, and then a day later found out that you might have a second son with Talia. I'm not buying your bullshit, B. Tell me how you feel without saying fine."
Bruce glared for a moment before giving up and sighing.
Dick smirked internally in triumph. Bruce was one of the most stubborn people he'd ever known. But make him face one of his children, and his resolve would crumble into sand.
"…I'm angry at Talia, even if he is a clone."
"And?"
"I don't know, Dick," he said wearily. "How am I supposed to feel when I discover I apparently have another child who I didn't even know about!"
Dick grimaced.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled." Bruce ran a hand through his ungelled and uncombed hair, letting the short locks fall back into place before he started talking again. "Even if he's Damian's clone, which is unlikely with all the evidence I've compiled, I've still missed out on sixteen years of his life," he buried his face in hands.
Dick… didn't know what to say to that. Bruce had probably been carrying that around, and he knew how much he hated himself for missing out on their earlier years, even if he couldn't have helped it.
Oh boy, Bruce still wasn't done. He watched Bruce's face crumple when he let his hands back down. His eyes, a few shades darker than Dick's own, glazed. Shit. "Sixteen years, Dick. I know I've never been the best father, and that I've missed so many years of all your lives, but I've only talked to him today. I wouldn't even have known he existed if it wasn't for Phantom. What kind of father am I that I didn't even ask Talia if I had another child? Especially since he has negligent parents?"
"Hey, no, Bruce. That's not on you. You've been trying your best, but even the world's greatest detective couldn't have known he had another son without a single hint. This is on Talia. She didn't tell you about this. It's not your fault, Dad."
To his regret, Bruce still didn't look convinced.
"What kind of evidence?" he asked, in a desperate attempt to make Bruce stop looking so gutted.
"Like the fact that Danny was adopted by the Fentons."
"Woah," Danny exhaled in awe.
Because awe was so well deserved that the word understated how amazed he felt.
Whatever his eye could see looked like a city from the human realm was taken and pasted here. Dozens upon dozens of buildings filled his view, and hundreds of ghosts zipped around, either walking or flying past.
It was so much like he expected, but nothing like he expected at the same time.
He expected the ghosts and the buildings, but he had no clue how amazing it all looked put together. There were small shops littered all over the place, and while everything had a slight greenish or bluish tinge, nothing was a full ghostly green or blue, except the ghosts.
"Clockwork, how the heck have I never visited a ghost city before?"
"It was not your time."
Danny pouted, but it immediately lifted when he saw something that looked like a planetarium to his right.
Fake stars that looked so real shone above it, and the planets orbited the sun in a way that was impossible to display on Earth.
What really gave it away were the big bolded green letters that said 'PLANETARIUM'.
Stars glued themselves to his eyes.
"Clockwork, Clockwork, can we go there!" He grinned giddily, pointing to the place that was literal heaven.
Planets. Stars. Asteroids. Galaxies. Displays of them all.
HE MUST SEE EVERYTHING.
And then Clockwork crushed all his dreams.
"I'm afraid not today, Daniel."
"Please, please, please?!"
"Tomorrow."
Danny eyed him, gaze going back and forth between the place of dreams. "You promise?"
He yelped when Clockwork ruffled his hair. "Yes."
"…Fine. But you better remember tomorrow!"
"I'll pick you up myself."
Danny nodded, slightly satisfied. With one last mournful look at the planetarium (how crazy was it that there was a planetarium in the ghost zone?!), he let himself be dragged by Clockwork.
They didn't make it very far before a ghost shouted at them. "King Phantom! Is that you?!"
Danny froze.
Everything and everyone else froze with him.
Then an explosion of voices rang his eardrums.
A stampede of ghosts made their way to him, and he flew back, startled. He didn't expect every damn ghost to start crowding his face. He braced himself for an attack.
But he didn't get one.
"King Phantom!"
"We're so humbled that you're here, my king!"
"Please, let me serve you in my restaurant!"
"No, let me serve you with my fine jewelry making!"
Danny stared, overwhelmed, as his hands returned back down to his sides. None of the ghosts even lifted a finger to attack him. Instead, they all started squabbling on where and how he should be served.
What in the Ancients was going on?
"Everyone, I know you're all excited to see the king, but I'm going to have to ask you to give him some space," Clockwork commanded.
All the ghosts hastily flew back, and Danny exhaled.
They all stared at him curiously, and if he looked closer, he saw a hint of admiration too.
Oh crap, he had to say something.
"Hi?" he winced immediately. Public speaking was not his forte. He looked at Clockwork for guidance and got an encouraging smile in return. "Um it's an honor to meet you all, and as you know I'm—" he hesitated. This had to be formal. Double crap. "—Phantom. I'm happy to be in your city, and unfortunately I won't be able to stay for very long."
All the ghosts drooped as one.
"But I'll be visiting again tomorrow!" he continued hastily, relieved to see them all perk back up. Ancients, why did he matter so much to them? "I won't be able to explore everything and meet you all tomorrow, but I'll keep coming back until I have," he promised.
Loud cheers came from below him.
Danny landed back on the ground smoothly as he waved. "C'mon, Clockwork."
All the ghosts resumed their activities, but more than a few waved as they passed by, or stared at him in complete and total awe. He shifted uncomfortably at all the attention.
"Where to?"
"Follow me, Daniel," the older ghost said in amusement, as he took off into the crowds of ghosts above them.
The crowds were not, as he initially assumed, just crowds. They were separated into three lines by four ropes that he noticed ran all through the city. Police ghosts (he was pretty sure they were police) monitored the lanes. Everything was completely in balance, and he even noticed an intersection a few yards away.
Once he looked down, he noted that the same system was used below too.
Huh. Who knew ghosts had traffic control?
"King Phantom," a police ghost squeaked as they waited at the intersection.
Danny went for a smile. "What's your name?"
"Copper, Sir!"
"This place is amazing, Copper!" Should he give encouragement? As soon-to-be king, he should, right? "Keep up the good work!"
Copper looked like he was about to faint, but managed a "Thank you, Sir."
A few more intersections later, and they went back down to the ground. "Clockwork, you mentioned that the elder ghosts are corrupt, and that newer ghosts are suffering, but everything looks fine here," he said, gesturing to everything around him.
"For the most part it is, yes. However, this is one of the more prospering sides of the city. On the north side of town, there is a civil war."
What. The. Hell.
"Say what?!"
"A civil war, Daniel. It has been going on for a few years now, but the elder ghosts haven't done anything to put an end to it. That is what I meant by the newer ghosts are suffering. Though, perhaps I shouldn't have said no laws have changed. There was one law created to ban any ghost from this side from entering that side."
"Not even my first day on the job, and I'm already going to have to end a civil war," Danny sighed in resignation before a thought lit up in his brain. "Wait, has anyone… ceased to exist?"
"Thankfully, no. But decapitation, disembowelment, and loss of limbs are frequent."
"What is the civil war even about?"
"Territory, Daniel. The north side was given to the newer ghosts by the elders. Eventually, there were just too many new ghosts to fit in that section, and war broke out."
"Why aren't they allowed out of the north side?"
"Because the elder ghosts reside in the east side, and have taken the entire area for themselves because it is the largest. On the west side is the work, shopping, and entertainment district."
Danny growled under his breath. "I'll fix that too."
"I have no doubt you will. But before you go off on your own, at least let Seamstress get your measurements?"
"Fine," he agreed begrudgingly. "But it better be quick. We don't have much time before I have to go to Wayne Manor."
"Of course."
Danny gnawed on a green cookie, trying to think of a way to put an end to the civil war before he had to go back to the human realm.
He'd already spent half an hour here since they were just leaving Seamstress's place. The ghost was kind and in her senior years before she died, and had a grandmother feel to her.
It was nice.
She even gave him a pouch of ghost cookies with some ectoplasm in it.
A hundred out of ten, he would definitely come by again. They were so good, like how even?
He still had a bunch left, so maybe he could share some with Sam and Tucker—wait no it was probably hazardous to humans.
Maybe Jazz? She'd been exposed to ectoplasm since she was in Maddie's womb, and they've eaten ectoplasm contaminated things before, so she'd probably be fine.
"Any advice?" he asked Clockwork wearily as soon as they stepped out of Seamstress's shop.
"Unfortunately I'm not allowed to give you advice for this. I'm afraid you'll have to figure this one out on your own, Daniel."
"Great," Danny grumbled.
Now how to resolve this?
Alright, start with what he knows.
One, both sides are fighting, duh. Two, both sides wanted territory. Three, the elder ghosts are jerks who kept the largest area for themselves. Four, no one else can enter the North side. Five, the East side is the largest section.
Things to find out were: One, what exactly were the sides in the civil war? Two, what is the area like? Three, how long has this war been going on? Four, how many ghosts are there exactly in the North side? Five, how many elders are there?
Okay, so now he had a rough idea of where to start. He'd visit both sides to see if he could find the answer to these questions. After that, he'd pay a visit to the elder ghosts.
"Clockwork, let's go to the North side," Danny decided. "I want to know more about these sides."
"Alright, Daniel."
The elder ghost led him back up to the air road thing, and they flew for at least ten minutes before Danny noticed that the amount of ghosts they saw were decreasing until they reached a huge wall.
Huge was quite a bit of an understatement.
Its height was at least thirty times his own size, and he was pretty sure it extended all around the North side.
They hovered in the air for a short few seconds before Clockwork spoke.
"Daniel, I won't be able to guide you any further," he said mournfully. "I can not interfere with the timestream, and if I were to be a part of this in any way, then I would be disrupting everything."
"…You'll still be here, right? Y'know, for moral support and all that?"
"Of course. But I'm afraid I can't do much else. I'll have to stay a distance away, but I will still be watching."
Danny let out a breath. "Okay, okay. I can do this."
He left Clockwork where he was hovering and flew to the wall. He pressed a palm against the wall, ready to fly all the way over when he was grabbed by his shoulder. Danny flipped whoever it was over instinctively, and drove them both to the ground, pushing his attacker down with his knee to his chest. A muffled groan came from beneath him and he peered down before blinking.
Danny released the police officer sheepishly, holding a hand to him. "Sorry about that. What's your name?"
"My name's Blue, and I apologize for grabbing you, my King, but I wanted to let you know that this area is completely off limits," the officer said remorsefully, but took the hand with wide, awed eyes.
Danny pulled up all the authority he could muster as he raised his eyebrows. "On the elder's authority?"
Blue nodded.
"As soon-to-be king, I'm pretty sure my word out rules theirs."
The ghost flushed green. "Right, Sir. Sorry, Sir. If I may ask, how were you planning to get to the North side?"
"By flying over?" Danny tilted his head in confusion.
Blue gaped. "My king, ghosts can't fly that high!"
Danny stared. What? "What are you talking about? I can fly that height easy."
The ghost furrowed his brow. "Sir, ghosts can only fly a max of fifty to seventy feet. Even Pariah Dark's maximum flight height was two hundred feet. That's why the wall is two hundred and fifty feet tall."
"Huh. It might be because I'm a halfa," Danny cupped his chin in two fingers thoughtfully.
Blue's eyes bulged out. "You're a halfa, Sir?!"
"Did you not know?" he asked, bewildered. Because all the ghosts he'd encountered knew that he was only half dead. He said as much out loud.
"My king, please forgive my questions, but how old are you?"
"Sixteen?"
"And how long have you been dead?"
"Two years. Why?"
Sucking in a breath, Blue glanced at him in equal parts of uneasy and awe. "Sir, you're a child ghost."
Like Youngblood? "Define 'child ghost.'"
"Any ghost under the age of twenty-five before they died, Sir. For a natural born ghost, though, it means any ghost under the age of five hundred years."
Danny gaped. "Five hundred is still considered a child here?!"
"King Phantom, ghosts live forever unless their cores are tampered with. Ghost children also age differently from humans."
"Wait, so how long until I'm considered an 'adult' ghost?"
A thoughtful expression made its way onto Blue's face. "I believe for Halfas, it is after the amount of years that they are half dead is four hundred. So for you, it will be another three hundred and ninety-eight years."
Danny's brain shorted out.
Three hundred… ninety-eight… years…
"But I'm… part human," he stated blankly.
What the hell was going on?
"Yes. That's why I said 'for Halfas.'"
"Wait, wait, wait, but won't I become a full ghost in like a few decades after I die fully? So does that mean I'll have to start the process all over?"
Blue licked his lips. "Well, I'll have to check. I'll let you know when I've found something, my King."
"What about the other Halfa? Vlad Masters, ring a bell?" Danny gestured wildly.
"Ah, Vlad Masters. That child is on thin ice," the police officer frowned. "What about him?"
"…Child?" Danny said faintly.
Because someone calling freaking Vlad Masters a child was exploding his mind more than it already was with this conversation.
"Yes," Blue scowled. "A menace is what that one is. If he pulls any more stunts, the GCS is going to have to step in."
He was almost afraid to ask, but… "Who are the GCS?"
"Ghost Child Services. They take child ghosts and put them in the care of an adult ghost."
"Vlad counts as a child?! He's an old man, for Ancient's sake!" Danny burst.
He was given a patient look. "He became a Halfa at age twenty. He was below the twenty-five age limit, and it's been twenty years. So, he's not an adult until his ghost side reaches the age of four hundred."
Huh, somehow all the childish shit the older man pulled on a regular basis made sense.
Danny shook his head, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't have the time or the coffee to deal with this, so I'll come by tomorrow. Is there a time I can meet you?"
"You want to meet with me ? Of course, Sir! I'm free an hour after midday for my break," the ghost beamed.
"I'll be at the Planetarium," Danny said, giving him a thumbs up, and waved before shooting up to the top of the wall.
Ancients, why was everything so complicated?
Whatever, now wasn't the time for this. He had about three hours and ten minutes, give or take, till he had to leave for Wayne Manor, not including the ten minutes that he had to change his clothes and freshen up.
Sheesh, talk about a time limit.
His gaze landed on the city that was in ruins below of him. Rubble littered the area, and the atmosphere was grim and dark. It contrasted so deeply with the city that he'd seen forty minutes ago that he had to move his head from side to side, comparing the two.
One was bright.
One was shadowed.
Green fires raged all across the fallen part of the city as he lowered himself down. Danny couldn't see any ghosts in sight, but that wasn't really surprising. He knew that keeping yourself out of sight was a vital survival tactic.
Dust pooled when his feet hit the ground softly with a small thud. A bright green trail ran across the city, and his foot was directly above a small part of it. He quickly hovered up, slightly sick if that's what he thought it was.
It was hard to see or smell anything with all the smoke from the green fires, but he made do.
A green gleam was all he saw before something stabbed into his side.
He let out a pained breath while ectoplasm and blood pooled around the wound.
Tim smirked smugly at Jason as he hung up on his fifth contact.
"Pay up," he demanded, holding out a hand. Because, yes, he just won ten dollars from Jason for calling five contacts within fifteen minutes.
He'd lord it over him whenever he could.
Because he, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was a goddamn boss .
Jason grumbled, digging out his wallet and slamming a crisp ten dollar bill on the desk. "Bitch."
"Jackass."
"You shouldn't have bet against him, Jason," Damian gave a small smirk.
"Shut up, Ankle-Biter."
"I'm nearly as big as you," he pointed out, smirk twisting into a Cheshire cat grin. "Would you like me to prove it?"
Jason stared at him warily. "Wha—"
Damian lunged at him, tackling him off the sofa and pushing him to the ground.
"You tyke!"
Tim guffawed as Jason struggled under their youngest brother, who was sitting on his chest and pinning both arms to the side, the only sign of stress from his strength was the singular bead of sweat running down his forehead..
"Let me go, Demon Brat!"
"The fearsome Red Hood, bane of all Gotham's criminals, is bested by Robin!" Tim announced, holding his hand in a light fist to mimic a microphone in it.
"Do you surrender, Red Hood?"
"Never, you brat!" Jason pushed his arms up with a surge of strength and knocked Damian over. He caught himself before he could land on his head, and pushed back at Jason, who slipped in a loose defensive position.
Damian nodded at Tim, and with matching grins at their horrified older brother, leaped and pinned him down.
"You both suck," Jason declared petulantly after a moment, not that he'd ever admit it, Tim knew, and stopped squirming while they both sat on him. Stupid bastard didn't even look out of breath.
"Whoa, what's going on here." They all turned their heads in unison to stare at their eldest brother, who wore a worried expression before it morphed into annoyance. "Really? This happens when I'm not there?"
"Shut up, Dick."
Dick surveyed the room for damages, and found Tim's phone laying on the coffee table. He was met with a deadpan look. "Really, Tim?"
Tim raised an eyebrow. Time for some quality lying. "What?"
"You called your contacts when you said we should wait for permission first."
"No I didn't."
"Don't lie to me. I helped train you. I know when you're lying," Dick rolled his eyes.
Tim winced.
"Look guys, I came here because I needed to tell you a few things. One, listen to B on this right now. He's pretty upset, so don't aggravate him further. Two, we didn't get permission to talk to our contacts, so don't even try. Usually I wouldn't really mind, but just don't till we get B's permission."
"What do you mean by upset?" Jason asked slowly.
"He almost cried," Dick said flatly. "He had a mini breakdown." They all flinched.
Bruce… crying?
It was a sight none of them wanted to see.
"Alright. We'll wait for permission," Tim nodded.
Because dammit, he was too weak to see his dad cry.