Timothy had been busy setting up his equipment practically all night long. Every sound of negative attempts to hack or connect to the local network gradually tightened the nonexistent nuts in his brain that were driving him crazy. The whites of his eyes turned red, it seemed as if every possible capillary had burst. The clicking sound of the keyboard was the final accomplishing event of an eerie, stuffy night of repetitive action. Isn't that what they call insanity? Repeating the same actions in the hope of seeing a different result. His eyes ached, burning, begging for the bearer of this body to finally rest and get away from the bright screen. He should definitely take a break and go outside for a cup of coffee. No one here would censure him for the amount of caffeine he consumed. Drake stood up from his laptop, stretched, crunched his stiff limbs, threw on the nearest sweatshirt, and headed for the exit. Walking down the cold stone steps, Tim shuddered slightly at the cool air enveloping the lifeless space:
"Looks pretty creepy, like a ghost town," – the black-haired detective thought as he exited the building. It was very unusual that the surroundings were so quiet. The small town is a mystery in itself, there's a lot of noise in the morning, but even so, it doesn't compare to the huge Gotham, which seems to have a life of its own, while Amity Park lies in a silent tomb, from which occasionally come strange creaks and tapping.
And so, upon reaching the nearest establishment, which was open all twenty-four hours, he was met only by a lone employee who seemed to be paler than himself. A tired dull look full of indifference and a lazy phrase:
"Welcome, what will you order...?..." – greeted the lonely, equally tired and exhausted customer with their boredom. Tim ran his eyes over the menu and his choice fell on the coffee with the highest amount of caffeine inside among those presented:
"A single espresso with a triple shot...or a quadruple shot. The more the better, in fact." – The employee didn't even specify why, why not, or whether the person would get sick from the brew, which hardly resembled coffee at all. He just shrugged his shoulders and started cooking. Tim at the same time decided to look into his smartphone and catch some network. Everything seemed to be working, but the messages were not being sent at all, or were being deleted spontaneously, and the applications themselves gave an error and sometimes didn't let him log in. It all made me want to smash my head against the wall:
"Why aren't you working, what's the problem?" - Tim says out loud and can't stand it, cursing at the mobile device in his hands. Then, suddenly, he gets a response from someone he wasn't expecting, namely a sleepy store employee:
"Hey, man. You're not from around here, are you? It's easy to spot your kind around here. We don't have a lot of things that work here, really. The problem is easy to solve, just buy a new sim card or some kind of cell phone along with it from the store next door if you don't want to accidentally ruin your cell phone." – The guy who was working behind the bar waited for the coffee machine to finish its work and sat down on a plastic chair that creaked on the floor with its steel legs, then opened some strange local magazine and stared at it, covering half of his face. Tim tried to analyze the information he received, but he didn't understand why his phone could die from buying a SIM card in this city. And why it was even necessary to buy some local hardware to get in touch with anyone in the city. Out of interest, Tim decided to ask:
"Do you have any idea why? Why foreign equipment doesn't work here?" - The salesman looked at the customer with a slightly more cheerful look. It seemed as if all the locals were a little out of their minds. Did this place really have the kind of massive problems they had assumed? The behavior of the locals was reminiscent of the people living in Gotham City near Crime Alley. Their looks usually said, "You're in the wrong neighborhood, brother."
And then, finally, there was an answer:
"It's the ectoplasm, man. That stuff's everywhere, it's soaked into everything. It's like radiation, you know? That shit interferes with communication and everything. But it's been around since before the ghosts showed up. Like, it's been like this problem for at least 20 years. Anyway, if you want to get in touch, it's easier to write a letter. Like, handwritten, you know?" – and then the coffee machine stopped whirring, letting everyone know the coffee was ready. The employee stacked a magazine on the table and then handed out the order and punched the check:
"That'll be two bucks and ten cents," – Tim only nodded obligingly, took the coffee, before tossing a $20 bill on the table and walking out of the store, muttering: "Thanks." The guy only patted his eyes as he examined the bill, before snorting and saying to nowhere in particular, "Weirdos, these commuters... ."
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Drake headed for the nearest hardware store. On the way, he tried to fit all the information he had gotten about ectoplasm, ghosts, and the strange connection into his head. . The more information he got, the more he realized the magnitude of the problem he and his brothers had gotten themselves into. There were far more mysteries than he had realized. Still, figuring out which problem was the most pressing was the hardest. A teenager running around town in homemade outfits? The strange "ghosts" that terrorize the city? Self-deleting data? Each question layered on top of the other, creating a tangle of tangled threads rather than the beautiful finished web that every detective would like to imagine in his or her mind. Unfortunately, that was not possible now. The only thing left to do was to go with the flow and grasp the smallest details, so that in the future to assemble a single picture from the pieces of the puzzle.
And so, the sign of a hardware store appeared ahead. The store was working overtime for some reason, and the sign on the door read, "Looking for new employees!"
Business didn't seem to be going well here. Although the area looked familiar.
"A second-hand store and cheap goods store. That's right! This is the same place where the video was filmed! Why didn't I notice? I should get more sleep." -
Tim rubbed his own eyes, then finally went inside and was greeted by an elderly man. The kind old man offered Tim a variety of goods. Among all the junk he managed to find a used laptop, a couple of smartphones, two button phones and a few SIM cards. He was most attracted to the first and one of the second options. Without much thought, Drake paid for the items and headed off in the direction of the hotel. He got there fairly quickly, expecting to see his older brothers on their feet by then. But he guessed only Dick, as Jason was still in his room, it was clear by the closed door. A sleepy Grayson happily greeted the younger one who approached him:
"Good morning, Timmy-bird! You're up a little early…" – the younger snorted at that statement and replied:
"Not really. I had a hard time sleeping last night, so I got busy and sat up until morning. I went out. And found out that only local equipment works here because of some kind of radioactive contamination associated with "ghosts". Bought a couple things at a small hardware store, I'm gonna go deal with it. And before you start lecturing me about lack of sleep, sleep is for wimps." – Tim immediately interrupted his eldest when he just opened his mouth and raised his hand with one finger up, as if he was about to reprimand him for his unhealthy habits. Immediately, a frustrated grimace appeared on the adult's face, typical of an offended small child. Next, Drake simply hid out of sight and got to work on his newly acquired equipment. The performance of these goods certainly didn't please his eyes and technical ego. It was as if someone had spit into his very soul, so poorly did this garbage work. But the amazing thing was that it worked. Damn it, this junk was doing a job that his advanced models couldn't do! My brain refused to comprehend this phenomenon. What was so amazing about this strange radioactive contamination that it was causing all the equipment to go crazy? And it was the older models.
"When I get home, I'll scan every detail for sure. For now, it's worth getting back to searching..." - Punching through the internet for information on local schools, Drake began hacking into personal accounts and checking the information of the schools' electronic websites to get to the personal information of all the students. After that, the sorting phase began:
"The first order of business is to sort out the girls and boys. There is, of course, a small chance that our miracle cosplayer will turn out to be a girl, but his anatomy and movements differ too well." - A little over half of the students had been screened out, but there were still too many people. The next criterion that immediately catches the eye is height. All students above/below 5'5 feet were weeded out, Tim used the environment to determine the height of the person they were looking for. This left about a third of all students. The next criteria was black hair color. The kid clearly hadn't used a wig, his hair looked native and alive. However, there was always a chance that the hair was dyed, so the already prepared list was kept just in case. Red Robin then got down to business and began sorting through the remaining cases, leaving only the students with black hair on the list.
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When Tim and Dick split up, the older man decided to change clothes and explore the entire area. He made no attempt to stop the younger one from self-harming with lack of sleep, right now it was useless. They didn't have much time, they needed to find the unknown child as soon as possible before this turned into a tragedy. Without proper training and adult help, the things the teenager is doing could be the cause of his own demise, because one wrong move and a fall from a great height would be the end. Grayson knows this better than anyone. The human body cannot survive a fall from a great distance. Even though time has passed, the memory of the life-changing event echoes inside with a wave of anxiety and pain. Perhaps in a way, Dick sees the child as himself. He doesn't want to let him fall. So he'll find him and do everything he can to make sure he can really fly.
Without disturbing anyone, Richard left the hotel and decided to head in the direction of the school. On the way, he managed to buy a couple of snacks that became his breakfast. Now was the best time to visit the grounds near the school. Students were rushing to the institution for lessons, so it was easier to keep an eye out for possible suspects. It is important not to arouse suspicion of yourself, a relaxed "disinterested" look does not attract the attention of teenagers and children. And some adults don't either.
"It's so unusual to see students without uniforms when I myself had to study at Gotham Academy. Honestly, I'm really jealous." - thought Grayson as he looked at the students walking by, half of whom wore personal clothing, the other some athletic uniforms in bright red. The students in these sports uniforms formed large groups of people, apparently many here were divided into interest groups. Athletes, geeks, goths, nerds, and so on. Probably, the social pyramid here was divided not only on the status of rich kids and their influential parents. It's not hard to guess which students are bullied here among the rest. Pretty soon, when the crowd was gone, Dick was able to witness a scene of violence with his own eyes. A tall athlete with blond hair literally pinned the poor teenager to the pavement. Immediately Richard realized that it's time to intervene, you can not leave this situation unpunished. But something literally made the detective freeze in place and observe the situation better. The child who was now being attacked by the other was completely calm and unafraid. There was annoyance in his eyes, but nothing more. The child's body language was literally saying: Make it quick while I can restrain myself. Dick had seen this often enough when he was in school himself. Noticed such behavior literally in himself. The teenager that seemed now weak and could not resist, in fact pretended. But why? Why would he endure bullying and such humiliation?
The child's appearance also left something to be desired. He looked just like Tim: the same circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, a pale face as if he hadn't been out in the sun, a frail appearance, as if he was lacking in nutrients. But there was something else... the boy looked a lot like the child they were looking for so hard. Dick could be wrong, but don't let it go to waste. We should take a closer look at the boy. But first, it's worth helping him:
"Young man, stop. I'm police officer Dick Grayson. You see, I've noticed the way you've been abusing that teenager. Since you're a minor, I'll need to call your parents to report the incident." – The detective pulled out his ID card and showed it to scare the obnoxiously violent teen. It worked, the bully immediately trembled with fear and couldn't utter a word when the police caught him. But the guy was clearly not going to stand like a deer in the headlights for long. Gathering his strength, he tried to justify himself to Dick in a very awkward and rather silly way:
"But... I.. I.. Since when did the police interfere in children's squabbles...? This is just a misunderstanding! You don't know this teenager, he's a freak!" – These words only reinforced the idea that the child was clearly not getting enough nurturing at home. Richard didn't like that very much. At such an age one should realize how to talk to adults, and how to behave in general. Sure, Dick himself wasn't a perfect model of behavior (his chandelier prank would never be forgotten), but he certainly wasn't a man who would insult a child he had just bullied in front of a police officer. Richard continued:
"Don't lie to me, young man. If you don't want more trouble, give me your full name, then give me the contacts of your parents or legal representatives." – unsurprisingly, it worked. Intimidating people with punishment works well in this city, unlike Gotham. It's probably not as corrupt here as it is back home. In small towns, everyone knows each other, everyone's trying to maintain a reputation. After talking to the boy's father, Grayson was finally able to move on to the kid who was shaking off the dirt, and the bully was let go. The detective turned to the black-haired boy:
"Are you all right, young man?" – The boy looked shocked. There was uncertainty in his gaze, as if he were trying to find some kind of trick. Blue expressive eyes studied him from head to toe, looking for something that could do him harm. Nervously the child scratched the back of his own head and relaxed a little when he found nothing out of the ordinary, remembering to keep the conversation going:
"Yeah... I'm fine. Just a little migraine from this morning, after which fate itself apparently decided to finish me off. Don't worry about it. Thank you for your help." – the boy spoke quite sincerely. After the child relaxed a bit, his voice took on a rather light tone, indicating his state of anxiety. Right now Richard was trusted, this was a good chance to get closer and get to know the boy better, which the detective did:
"Glad to hear it. My name is Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick! What's your name, you little tough guy?" – the easier it is to talk to teenagers, the easier it is for them to connect. The key is not to push him now and keep a certain distance so as not to scare him off. The boy could tell that the question was making him nervous. His body language showed doubt, his facial expressions showed slight worry. Richard could compare this state to walking a tightrope, the boy hesitated from side to side as if choosing the right words. Soon the child answered:
"My name is Danny. Nice to meet you, Mr. Dick" – the last address made Richard shudder. He literally felt old and humiliated. He would never tell his brothers about it, or he would be reminded of it for the rest of his life. But he wasn't going to correct Danny. It was bad enough that the boy hadn't given his last name, but Grayson wasn't going to demand more. The interrogation would only cause more anxiety and suspicion of himself. If Danny isn't in any way connected to the boy they're looking for, perhaps he can provide more information about where the other teens spend their time:
"Listen, Danny. I'm here for a case, however in my spare time I'd like to check out the city. Do you happen to know what kind of places teenagers like to go? I need to know where I can take my little brothers." – It was a very risky move, because the boy literally starts to tense up in front of his eyes. He tries to hold on, to pretend as if he's not a bit worried, but in fact you can see how his brain is literally processing the information. Dick is examined again, literally scanned with his eyes. He is not trusted, or doubted if he should be. It's as if Danny guesses it's not that simple, doesn't know if he should answer or if he should leave as soon as possible. You can see that he wants to throw Grayson off his tail, but he can't make up his mind. Still, the kid answered him politely:
"Well, usually teenagers go to the local diner after school or hang out in the park. It's kind of like the local landmark the town is named after. There's still a mall here, but after recent events, it's a bit of a shambles there now and not worth going to. I'd also visit the local observatory if any of your brothers are interested in science or something." – As the list of places came to an end, the boy's expression changed. One moment he was tense, the next he became relaxed and satisfied. At one point, at the mention of the observatory, his face even brightened. He seemed to really like anything to do with space, stars or planets. Richard couldn't help but smile. But his smile trembled a little, to be honest, especially when Danny sighed a little heavily. He was remembering someone or something that brought him both joy and pain at the same time. The kid wasn't watching his facial expressions at all. It was literally written all over his face! It was as if he lacked support, as if one part of his soul was holding back and the other was looking for support in other people. It was the kind of look that Nightwing had seen all too often in a lifetime of working as both an officer and a night vigilante. Even if Danny had nothing to do with the kid's case in the video, he clearly needed some help. He wanted to ask if he was sure everything was okay and if he needed help, but...no. I don't. Not now.
Richard's getting closer. Very carefully. He realizes that it's clearly time for the child to go, so he thanks the child and soon says a hasty goodbye:
"Thanks for your help, Danny! I hope to see you again." – his hand forms a fist, expecting the teenager to punch him back. And Danny does, and an embarrassed smile can be seen on his face. Unnoticed by the teen himself, Dick carefully tugs a bug in his hair. Completely unnoticeable. If Dick could, he'd actually let him drink the chip just in case. But at the moment such measures were neither necessary nor possible. And here was another strange situation when the boy touched Richard. He couldn't help but notice how he reacted. It was as if he had touched something very cold or hot, causing him to burn sharply. Goosebumps appeared on his skin and the boy became nervous, looking around. He starts to back up, about to break into a run:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dick, I'm late! Thanks again!" – Danny took a couple steps to the side before running towards the school. Grayson couldn't help but find this very strange.
"You hide a lot of secrets behind you, Danny. It's intriguing and makes me ask a lot of questions. Hopefully by tonight I'll be able to answer them. In the meantime, it's worth continuing your patrol and keeping an eye on him." - After the boy disappeared behind the school doors, Richard slowly left the school grounds, sinking deep into the wilds of his thoughts.
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When the annoying alarm clock on Jason's smartphone rang, he was literally ready to smash the annoying source of the noise against the nearest wall. The previous night and day were echoing in his head with an annoying ache. Judging by the distant chatter in the hallway, everyone was awake and doing business. There was no desire to cross paths with anyone now, so he changed his clothes and hurriedly left the building. He wanted to start searching as soon as possible. Inside everything itched with curiosity. This place was pulling at him, beckoning, and for some reason, Jason felt very strange. It was as if he were in someone else's territory, and, most surprisingly, his chest was tight with a little fear and discomfort, as if someone had invisibly put his hand around his heart and was holding it in a vise, saying, "Just take one step wrong and I'll squeeze it." Jason wasn't going to put up with it. He wants answers and he's too stubborn to just take it and back down.
Todd tries to hide in the nearest back alley of the town to explore every possible passageway and find the source that is affecting his mental state so much. It clearly wasn't in the center of town, that's not where Jason was going to go. His gut led him through the dark nooks and crannies, through every shadow the low buildings cast. Every bat's home habit is to hide in the shadows, to act stealthily and quietly. At least until you make some noise. Otherwise, the asphalt will be stained with dirty blood and the night street will witness the passing of agonizing hours full of violence and pain, and deservedly so. This pain can be called karma. And in the case of bad men, that karma smelled like iron, was black as pitch, and spread with a sticky, oily tar that left traces behind every step they took. At times Jason felt himself covered in the tar. His legs felt heavy after every crime he committed, his eyes could blaze with green rage, his chest squeezed by the heavy roots of nervous saplings, and every step he took was hard, as if he had to tear off his heavy shoes from the sticky slime. Gotham is a place of crime, literally a cradle. If you spend a little time in Gotham at night, walking around the Crime Alley neighborhood, you will feel how everything in your life will change. Unless, of course, you make it in time and miss your own death.
Amity Park felt completely different. It was as if an alien voice was calling Jason to follow it. He saw light, faint green spots in his eyes, so familiar yet so alien that it threw him from confusion to confusion. The courtyards resembled an abandoned labyrinth of stone bluish walls, the whole city in the shadows looked not dirty or even black. The world here was divided into purple, blue, cold shades that made his bones tingle. Was it from fear? From the cold? Or from the unknown? On top of that, the small green stains that had dried on the asphalt were still clearly visible. Without thinking long, Jay photographed them as evidence, and collected some of the substance in a plastic bag.
By some miracle, Jason soon reached a small street and found himself in a library. Nearby was a small stationery store, and on the other street were residential small houses. As he entered the library, he was confronted with the dusty cool air. The sunlight barely penetrated through the unwashed windows, making the room semi-dark and only cheap light bulbs illuminated the room. An elderly voice sounded:
"Welcome to the Amity Park Library. Here you can read any books you want until closing time, or borrow items of interest." – Jason only nodded and continued to study the shelves. It looked as if they were covered in cobwebs, and some were buried under a layer of dust. Apparently, this place rarely had any popularity, which wasn't very surprising in these times. But from the looks of it, the mysticism and science fiction section of the place was in high demand. This can be explained by the lack of clutter and even a slight emptiness on the shelves. Not surprisingly, there was a large amount of fiction about ghosts and spirits among the books.
"Ghosts do exist. However, I suspect the local monsters that are destroying the town are unlikely to have anything to do with them. But could they have anything to do with that damn Lazarus water?" - Jason thought to himself and looked around the counters. He wanted to find an explanation for the strange feeling in his chest. Why, despite the familiar green rage, did he have no desire to attack other people right now? Jason decided to turn to the librarian:
"I'm sorry, can you give me a clue...uh... I don't even know how to describe it. Something about strange green water? Maybe it could be related to ghosts." – It was awkward even trying to say those words. Asking an old man about something you have no idea about. Except the old gentleman hesitated, rubbed his calloused hands over his beard, and frowned before answering:
"Ectoplasm, eh? I'm sorry, son, but I don't know much about this ghostly nasty thing. But I can suggest who knows. If you want to know more about ghosts, I suggest you go to the Fentons. They're the leading experts around here. However, I must warn you, I don't recommend talking to adults. They're a bit cuckoo in there!" – At this expression the old man twisted his finger at his temple, and his eyes seemed to move apart. Then the old man coughed slightly and covered himself with his fist before continuing:
"Jazmine, my most frequent visitor, recently left to study, now she is nowhere to be found in the city. There is also a younger child. The boy is said to be a good boy, though he can be rude to strangers at times. But you know today's youth, for their age such rude behavior is normal. Perhaps he can help you. I can't tell you anything else." – The grandfather only spread his hands, his face taking on a rather guilty expression. Jason, however, was very pleased with the information he had received:
"Thank you, old man, you helped me out. Can you tell me where I can find the Fentons, by any chance?" – The old librarian chuckled a little and pointed somewhere to the north:
"Follow that street all the way to the end. There are a couple of left turns. And there you'll spot their house three versts away. If you find the weirdest one, you'll think there's a real flying saucer on the roof. You won't miss it." – After absorbing the new information, Todd headed for the exit. Once again he thanked the local and left on the designated route.
The most interesting part began later. With each new step Jason felt his inner senses sharpening more and more. Already when Todd reached the building he had been looking for so long, it was as if his insides had managed to turn over several times. Jay immediately realized that what he was looking for was obviously in this house. He definitely wouldn't go in alone, maybe to some extent Hood could be called fearless, but he was definitely not crazy. At least he's definitely not going into a trap with a possible Lazarus pit.
"We need to let the others know."
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It was already the second hour. Or, to be more precise, practically the third. Because of the old technology it was impossible to download programs with developed search systems, because the laptop simply could not stand it and overheated a lot. Boring and unpleasant. One of Tim's eyes was definitely starting to twitch after reading this. Nothing noteworthy, absolutely.
"Just a little more and I'll go crazy. So far I've only found three profiles that were as close to reality as I could find, but... It's all junk. The system of hiding the most visible in the most visible place doesn't seem to be working here. There's only one school left to check. whose only accomplishments seem to be a soccer team and the constant destruction of the building." - After studying a little more of the school's history, my eyes were popping out of my orbits. How could two students as young as 14 have organized two whole protest rallies in just one night!? How? Not to mention the fact that it all ended in some kind of meat tragedy and a major cleanup of the meat and bits of turf and grass scattered around. On the other hand, there was certainly never a dull moment at this school: ghost attacks, the school counselor being a rogue ghost, getting sick with ghost mosquitoes, and so on. It seemed that Casper's small school was some kind of sick epicenter of strange happenings and crazy news. It was just too suspicious. Tim even slapped himself in the face, not realizing why he hadn't paid attention to this detail before. Another proof that the student they were looking for was at Casper High was a recent cosplay party with a Halloween hero theme.
"We should have checked this place out earlier... There are about 20 things to check out at this school... Aaron Davidson, 16... No, not that one. Next, Alan Locke, 15, general background: chess player, florist. No, next." - The list was rapidly emptying, Tim even managed to yawn and wipe his eyes a couple times. A few photo comparisons, file information, grades, things to pay attention to:
"James Larsson, 14 years old, choir, stable academic performance, no. Danny Fenton, 15, astronomy buff, consistently poor grades, no. John Harris, 16..." - Immediately something clicked in Tim's brain and he slowly returned to Fenton's case. Something was familiar about that last name. Drake tensed and scrutinized the child's file. From the records, it appeared that the boy had a very good academic record up through high school. In the first year he was absent after some event for about a week, after which his grades slowly began to decline. Teachers noted that the child often fell asleep in class, was detained after school, and was noted to be particularly clumsy - as a result, a lifetime ban from using equipment in the chemistry room was issued. His family. A local celebrity, at times, not in the best light - the Fenton family, ghost hunters. Tim remembered that he had already studied part of their case file and had definitely seen the names Jack and Maddie Fenton. There are two children in this family, the oldest, Jazmine Fenton, graduated early and went to college far away from her home in another state. The youngest, Danny Fenton, does not stand out much from his family. Judging by the records, the poor kid is at the bottom of the social ladder.
"It's worth checking the personal pages..." - there was nothing remarkable on them. To the eyes of the average person, but certainly not to Tim's. Too suspicious. Just a few necessary commands and it was clear that the posts on the pages were made just a couple days ago and all the dates had been changed. The boy's best friends were also checked. Tim learned a few interesting things that brought a satisfied grin to his face: Samantha Manson is the daughter of the Manson family. Has a large number of connections throughout the city and is apparently related to the employee of the hotel where they are staying. They most likely know and suspect that they are already being followed and are on the trail. Tim was also able to compare photos of Tucker Foley and a civilian who was caught on camera during the battle in the video. The images were a complete match:
"Well. Looks like I found the right kid. The system of hiding it in the most visible place was right after all. We should contact the others and discuss the situation." -
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By the end of the school day, the students were going home or to the popular places that Dick had heard about from Danny. Checking his tag, Grayson realized that the kid hadn't been in school for some reason for a long time. Right now his mark was in some residential neighborhood. This was odd since classes had just ended now. Then what was the reason the child was already at home? And most interestingly, why didn't the equipment give any signal that the object had moved to another neighborhood? Dick decided to check it out and headed for the coordinates. They led him to a strange house, which looked more like a fantastic museum of some lover of futurism and postmodernism. And judging by the dot, the kid was really there. Any chance he'd just run away from school? Maybe. But usually kids who like to skip school don't rush to school with a bad headache. (Grayson was sure the boy wasn't lying to him).
The most interesting thing that happened next was the approach of a car that looked like a real tank. The huge machine was moving at a speed that simply could not be characteristic of it!
"How does this thing even drive?.. No, the other question is, with driving like that, how did these people not hit anyone!?" – Dick stared at the picture with open eyes and sagging jaw. The road was deteriorating under the wheels of a huge auto that nearly knocked down a fire hydrant and the wall of a building.
Soon two people in strange coveralls got out of the car and entered the house. Apparently they were the occupants and probably the boy's parents. Dick had already mentally added a check mark to the list of reasons why it wasn't safe for the child to be in that house. Speaking of him. His dot started moving inside the house and slowly moved from the bottom to the top. This house probably has a large basement, judging by the coordinates. That was an important point as well:
"Something tells me that this basement is unlikely to be an ordinary warehouse..." – Grayson's gaze locked onto the roof, which had some kind of strange technical center on it. Dick was sure that these people were inventors, and were using their own building as a field for creating experiments and machinery. Another tick on the mental list.
Abruptly an explosion rattled from the direction of the park.
And soon a figure in red appeared in the window of a room on the top floor. This costume Dick had seen before, and he did not know whether to rejoice at this event or not, for the child had obviously gone right away in secret from his parents, otherwise there would have been no point in him climbing out of the window of his own house. Having seen the teenager in person, his technique, it was easy to see the strong differences from the footage captured on camera. Now the vigilante was sure that the child's skills had been developed as a result of self-training. No one had tutored him, no one was there to help, he was risking his life by going roaming the city in a cotton cloth. Why is this kid doing this? It's clearly not for attention, otherwise the parents should have known about their son's hobbies. What's driving this teenager to play hero? Well, it can't be a hobby. You don't pick up skills like that by accident. What's more, no man would put himself in possible danger for no reason. Grayson realized it was time to contact his brothers and give them the good news about their mission:
"Nightwing reports, new little brother..." – he was interrupted by two native voices:
"Found." -
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The three Waynes were somewhat surprised, so they were greeted by a slight silence and noise inside the communicator. Because of the poor performance of their equipment, even secret technology had a tendency to malfunction. (Probably the bug that Dick had installed on Danny sometimes failed to signal, also facing an unknown problem). Finally, the older of the vigilantes decided to break the silence:
"The communicator's a little buggy. Am I now in a residential neighborhood, near the Fentons' house? I believe so. The boy I started following is our secret vigilante. Danny. I was able to plant a bug on him, but he sometimes interrupts the signal. Cool Fire is heading towards the explosion, I'm going after him." – after a short report, Richard passed the line to the others, Tim picked up next:
"Red Robin reporting. Danny Fenton is the youngest child, our secret vigilante. Thanks for proving my theory, Dick. Now, there are two other teenagers connected to him and, the interesting thing is, those same teenagers know we're here looking for them. They're prepared and have been able to wipe their social media feeds. But I was able to stealthily tap in and recover some of it. We need to be more careful if we want to figure out what this is all about. What's more, I was able to figure out the reason why the tech wasn't working. Well, almost, but I have a theory. The locals tell me the environment is saturated with some kind of radiation fallout. Newer models aren't very resistant to its effects, so they shut down or have problems. But I have not been able to find out the phenomenon of this phenomenon yet. The old models were produced quite a long time ago, even the materials from which much equipment is made were probably contaminated decades ago. But what kind of substance it is, it is not known yet. People are talking about "ghosts'' and similar heresies again. I dare to assume that "ghosts" are people with highly altered metageneses who use this very "ectoplasm" for personal purposes. The boldest assumption is that the ectoplasm may be related to Lazarus' water." – Jason interrupts Tim abruptly:
"Finished talking, Substitute? I've got a couple pieces of news, too. I'm in a neighborhood not far from the Fenton residence. The pits inside me are getting more agitated and twisted with each step. I'm sure Lazarus' source is under their house, hell, I'm willing to put Crime Alley on the line. I've been told this family's in over their heads, at least the older ones. And by the looks of it, we're gonna have to deal with some crazy scientists who keep a goddamn Lazarus Pit in the basement of their house." – After Todd's words, everyone was silent for a while. Jay began to quicken his steps and slowly turned to a jog to get to Dick and together to get to the source of the explosion. The silence was interrupted by Tim:
"To summarize. There's a strange organization running around town that people call "ghosts", the whole neighborhood is saturated with weird radiation crap that the "ghosts" are spreading, the local celebrity leading experts in studying and hunting these very ghosts are keeping a Lazarus Pit in the basement of their house, and their youngest child is secretly fighting meth people? Simple. What the hell is going on in this town?" – Drake leaned back in his chair, causing him to nearly slump to the floor. He covered his eyes with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, just trying to realize what they had managed to gather in just one day. All the clues they had collected right now lead to one place, the Fentons' house. So Tim needs to research their backgrounds and find out more about these people.
Dick, who is rushing to the local park, listened to his brothers and came to a conclusion:
"I'm sure that all the local events are probably connected to the older members of the family. What is going on around here is clearly not legitimate. Moreover, it absolutely cannot be safe for the residents or for their own children. Danny can't be safe at home. If Jason is right and the Fentons are experimenting on Lazarus Water or the Pit, that's a whole other level of problem. We need to gather all the evidence, break into the house and sort this out. Tim, try and dig up all the Fenton files. Dig into their records, possible research. We need to know all the details. Me and Jay will make sure no-one gets hurt at the scene of the emergency, and we'll help Danny if we can." -
At this point the signal stopped and the conversation was over.
"I hope we're here for you in time, Danny..." - Grayson thought to himself as he slowly made his way out of the main park.
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Meanwhile, back at Wayne Manor.
It was dinnertime. Only Bruce and Damian were at the table. There was a tense silence between them. Alfred was only standing nearby, slowly pouring tea into cups. The sound of boiling water pouring out of the kettle was the only source of sound that defused the pressurized atmosphere.
The elder Wayne coughed quietly:
– Well? - Damian pretended as if he had no idea what his father meant:
– What? - the younger man asks in a completely uncomplicated manner and calmly dines as if nothing unusual is going on.
– Damian, you know what I mean. Where are your brothers? - Right about now, Bruce had turned on Batman mode. Dinner was slowly turning into an interrogation.
– I can't know for sure, Father. Richard has probably gone to Bloodhaven. Drake may be visiting his own residence, but it seems like he could be with Richard right now. Todd never sleeps over at the manor without a good reason. - Damian tries to hang in there, though admittedly even his heart was beating a little faster than usual right now.
– Damian. I know you're in cahoots and hiding something. I say again, where are your brothers? - Bruce is trying his best to kick back. He is well aware that his youngest child is lying to him right now. In a way, he's proud of how much his youngest has grown after all those years in the League. How his character and relationships amongst his family have changed. But there were side effects from that. Cracking Damian specifically on the lies is the hardest part. He'd never just give up on the boys:
– Damian, I understand that you want to support your brothers. But you have to understand. If what they've gotten themselves into without my knowledge is dangerous, I have a responsibility to know that. - The younger man seemed to hesitate after saying that. His eyes twitched slightly, the younger man quickly took them aside before returning to a normal look:
– I don't know what you're talking about, father. I already know everything I know. You've developed paranoia. You need more rest. Pennyworth, I'm finished. I'm going to bed early to finish my art project for school tomorrow. - the boy finishes his meal and leaves the table. Bruce tries to stop his son, but is interrupted by Alfred. The man meets the butler's gaze and realizes that talking to his son now will be useless:
– Sometimes I feel as if my children are trying to drive me to my grave. - Bruce sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. Alfred only discreetly smiles a mysterious smile and pours some more tea:
– That's the kind of boys you have, Master Bruce. You don't need to patronize them so much, they are all grown up and independent. You should probably get some rest and relaxation. At the very least, you'll definitely need to conserve your strength for the baby's future. - Alfred is peaceful and usually gives advice in a familiar way, causing his words to be listened to attentively, nodding. Bruce sips some tea from his cup:
– Yes, you're probably right, Alfred... -
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It is only then that the elder Wayne realizes what Agent A has told him.
Bruce chokes on his tea and carelessly spits it out on the table.
– Alfred? What do you mean...? - Bruce sees the butler slowly leave the kitchen and pretends not to hear his master at all:
– Alfred...?! ALFRED! -