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“Nearing coordinates.”
Rustling begins in all corners of the ship as final checks are done of equipment. Gloved hands don’t falter over controls even as the driver’s own mental checklist rolls through his head one more time. This isn’t the first raid. This isn’t even the fifth. But this might be the most important. This location hadn’t been on anyone’s radar until mere days ago, and no one likes the implications behind that.
Steps coming up behind him pull his attention. “Everyone’s ready,” Superman tells him solemnly. There’s no jokes, no puns, no casual banter of any kind happening behind them, not this time.
Batman nods, affirming he’s heard. “We’re approaching the facility now. Oracle, take the controls,” he says, standing and joining the rising heroes gathered. They’d been split into teams before, but everyone’s come together for this.
Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter stand shoulder to shoulder, Superman going to join them. The Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, stands with Aquaman and Flash. Batman’s gaze rakes over his own brood, Nightwing and Robin facing Red Robin, Spoiler and Black Bat. Red Hood is still seated but clearly listening. He doesn’t make the rest of the League quite so uncomfortable anymore, despite rarely coming on big missions like this.
Even Zatanna and Constantine are here, though apparently Blood had decided to stay back due to a potential conflict of interest with the demon that could complicate their primary objectives. There was some grumbling, but all things considered, Batman chose to simply be thankful that he had the internal awareness to admit to such a thing and take accountability. Few do.
“Prepare for drop,” comes the faintly mechanized voice of Oracle as the ship’s momentum slows and prepares to hover. Batman hasn’t ever been fooled by it, but he also knows all too well who sits behind that modulator. He doesn’t know how many have identified her, but that isn’t really a concern. Enough people within the Justice League know either him or one of his children outside the mask at this point that it’s not a concern the way it used to be. He’s come to trust these people.
He steps up next to Wonder Woman just as the ship’s hatch opens, and they all file out. They’re low enough that even those who don’t fly have no trouble landing, and Superman and the Lantern are already prying open the doors to give them access into the building. They don’t speak, because they don’t have to. This raid has been gone over enough times that even Flash can recite it in his sleep.
They dive down, disabling and zip-tying every white-suited agent they come across. They can’t afford to falter, or to hesitate. The upper floors are precisely what they expect. None of them are interested in the upper floors, though Red Robin leaves a program running on every computer terminal he finds so Oracle can dump info into an empty server to be sorted and filed later. They’ll need everything they can get their hands on to get a fuller picture, but that can wait. This is the central location, the most secure building this accursed agency has, and they’re going to make sure there’s nothing left of it.
They find an elevator that’s heavily reinforced, and Wonder Woman pries the doors open. They get down to the first sub-level without issue, and start working their way through the scientists here. Most don’t put up a fight, though the white suited agents sprinkled around the labs don’t hesitate to open fire. Batman worries momentarily, but the energy released from the strange guns is green and glances off of everyone without serious injury, so he puts it out of mind. Subduing them will be easier if the weapons don’t work on them.
A click in everyone’s ear precludes Oracle’s voice, a warning system they always use to avoid startling anyone mid-fight. “There’s four sub-levels,” she says, which means Red Robin must have gotten her into a terminal already. “The first two should just be researching ectoplasm, it’s the lowest two that’s going to be the problem.” A chorus of solemn affirmatives echoes across the floor as they work lower.
The second sublevel is also research, but this is clearly where their weapons are made, and where the projects for more widespread disaster is considered. Red Robin falls behind, hitting as many terminals as possible to ensure they don’t miss anything. Aquaman stays with him, which Batman is thankful for. He’s aware that the Atlantean has a kindred sort of antagonism for these people condemning an entire race of beings purely for being different, having done the same for his own people not all that long ago. If Batman knows anything, it’s that Aquaman, having himself been a hunted ‘sub-human’, won’t let anything interfere with gathering the proof needed to ruin this agency.
The third sublevel is where things get complicated. They knew there were specimens held at this location, of course. They knew they were bigger than the amorphous blobs they’d pulled out of the previous locations. Some had looked like octopi, some like snails, so there was a hesitant speculation that more complex animal entities would be here. Batman considered trying to keep Robin from coming for obvious reasons, but he knows well what trying to keep his children from passionate fights accomplishes.
They had not, however, expected to find a teen with pale blue skin, startling cyan hair hanging limply, and a one-shoulder crop top hanging from gleaming manacles embedded with glowing green spots that Batman immediately recognizes as Ectoranium shards. She’s suspended over a giant bucket, what presumably were legs once dripping like icicles down into the green liquid being gathered beneath her. Her body is covered in half-healed marks, scars and burns telling a nauseating tale of captivity. The metal table splattered with the same green slowly filling the bucket, surrounded by implements Batman hates seeing covered in the same and what looks like pieces of the black of her legs, which he’s starting to realize might have been pants before she started…..melting.
They approach carefully, and someone steps intentionally hard, making the entity flinch but also making sure not to unnecessarily frighten with approach. “Is it safe to get you down?” the Lantern asks softly. They don’t know nearly enough, but if they….she….can speak, they can help quicker.
That seems to startle the prisoner. “Please,” comes the raspy reply, voice broken as only vocal cords strained beyond their capacity can. “I can’t……can’t heal……with them……” She takes a shuddering breath that sounds like it might have been a sob once. Batman hates how devoid of hope the sound is even as they’re here to help.
They waste no time, breaking the manacles and cradling her gently as her arms fall and she is freed of the harmful shackles’ effects. “You’re safe now,” Superman says. “We’re getting you out.” Flash is carrying her, he can get her back to the ship far quicker than any of them so she’s at least out of this accursed building.
She shoots a hand out, wrapping thin fingers around Batman’s wrist. “Will you take everyone?” she asks weakly.
Batman wants to curse, and several of their party do in his ear. “We will not leave until we have everyone,” he swears, waving Flash off as soon as she releases him so they can get moving. She confirmed that there are others here, and he has a growing dread filling him that they’re all humanoid, like she had been.
They move into the next ‘lab’ space and find a similar scene. This one, however, is a greasy biker still strapped to the metal table, manacles with the same Ectoranium embedded in them holding both wrists and ankles apart. The chest is broken open, ribs bent impossibly and, if the jars are any indication, most of the internal cavity emptied. Green oozes out of him, pooling on the floor and clearly showing how many times he’d been circled while they treated him like a high school gossip rag. This time, they don’t wait to break the manacles, and Flash again scoops the entity up to get them free of the facility.
The being groans, eyes fluttering briefly before he panics and tries to jolt out of the hold. “Hey, hey, hey, we’re here to help,” Flash says, hoping to calm him down.
He shudders, density shifting free of Flash’s grip and dropping unceremoniously onto the floor. “Shadow……” he murmurs sorrowfully. “Can’t…….leave……” He attempts to crawl across the floor, one arm not working as it should and streaking more green across the white tiles.
Hood steps around Superman, moving to the shelving on the far wall that seems to hold the entity’s focus. The helmet tilts, though Batman can’t guess what he’s studying. After a moment, he picks up a bizarre silver cylinder and opens the cap. Several tense seconds of fiddling reveals a bright light spitting a formless black blob onto the ground.
Several of them step back, but the blob merely chirps and wraps itself around the entity’s chest. “Hey, bud,” the being says weakly, though he’s clearly happy to see it. Flash steps forward, carefully scooping him up again, this time with the additional passenger, and zips out to deliver them to the ship.
His kids have been quiet until now. “Does every room down here have one of them in it?” Robin asks quietly.
Aquaman is the one who responds, “It would appear so. It would explain why they guarded this location’s presence so heavily.” He’s carefully neutral, a tactic most of them employ to keep from being consumed by rage and causing unnecessary harm.
“There’s three more,” Constantine mutters suddenly. They all turn to him, finding his hand glowing and a circle hovering above his open palm. “And something down below. Used some of the blood splattered on the wall to get a reading on their type.” Normally, Batman might have been angry, but this isn’t a normal mission and that knowledge is, unfortunately, extremely helpful. He dreads seeing the one below.
The next ‘lab’ holds a black and white high schooler in a cage. The bars glow faintly, clearly treated to keep the being in. The head lifts as soon as they enter, curling tighter in the furthest corner from them. They don’t waste time, the absence of dripping green letting them move with little more than another promise that they’re here to help.
Another wave of GIW agents comes through just as Flash leaves with the rescued boy, and with the presence of what appears to be a kid, regardless of how long he’s looked like that, they all hit a little bit harder. Hood’s taken to using his guns, despite the significant damage that rubber bullets can still do in such close quarters, and Wonder Woman has started denting the walls with the ones she throws. Batman doesn’t know how much more they can find before someone breaks his Rule.
The next room, once the scientists in it are subdued, appears empty until Zatanna starts chanting. It takes a couple of spells, but eventually an even smaller entity finally fades into visibility. He’s more gray skinned than the girl, similar to the biker, but very much a kid. He’s also in a cage, and not openly dripping green.
Batman ignores the creaking of reinforced gloves creaking around clenched fists, kneeling next to the cage. “We’re here to get you out,” he says softly.
The entity blinks at him. “You can see me?” the kid, likely male, asks. “Adults can’t see me, it’s kept me from……Ember kept screaming and-” he cuts off with a shudder, curling in on himself.
Batman wastes no time in opening the cage. “Zatanna cast a temporary spell so we could see you,” he explains, holding out a hand. He won’t drag the kid out if he can help it, there’s no telling how traumatized he already is. “If Ember’s the girl with the blue hair, we’ve already got her and two others out.”
The kid looks up at him with wide eyes, going unnervingly still for several seconds before lurching forward into his chest. Batman doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the shuddering child, standing and backing away from the cage carefully. The kid’s got a hand wound around his cape where it connects at his shoulder, so there’s no moving him at present.
Wonder Woman comes forward, far enough around that she’s clearly in the child’s line of sight. “We can get you out of the building while we’re clearing the rest,” she offers gently.
The green head shakes. “Take me, gotta get Box Lunch,” he mutters. “She won’t come with you without one of us.” Batman’s brow furrows, though it’s hidden by his cowl.
Nightwing, standing at the door and likely tracking the rest of his kids securing the hall while they calm this child, gives him a few quick signs in their personal quick-hand communication. Hall clear, can move, no time.
Despite going against everything he usually allows, Batman nods. “I’ll stay back with him just in case there’s another wave. Wonder Woman, you and Superman lead the way into the last lab. Red Robin and Aquaman can hold our backs. Red Robin’s going to want to check these terminals anyway.” There’s a round of nods, and everyone forms up.
They move into the last room, where a child just about as young as the one in Batman’s arms is strapped to a table, what looks like an IV stuck in her arm. The overalls and pale pink shirt do nothing to hide the way the clear liquid in the IV causes the blue skin to stain a sickly brown. She doesn’t react to their entrance, appearing unconscious. Or at least Batman hopes.
The child in his arms darts forward, floating freely and hovering over the unmoving girl. “Box Lunch? Hey, c’mon we gotta go now,” he says, patting the arm not discolored lightly.
The girl groans, blinking against the harsh lights overhead. “Y-Youngblood?” she whispers hesitantly. “How’d you get out? Wh-” A flinch. “It hurts….”
Superman has moved closer, stepping around so that the boy, Youngblood, is between Superman’s bulk and the girl. Murmuring softly, he removes the needle, letting the girl sit up and rub irritably at her arm. “Can Flash take you both to the roof?” he asks gently. “He’s super fast, and we have a ship there with the others that we’ve freed. You’ll be safe there while we make sure no one else is caught.” Batman catches the look on Superman’s face, suggesting whatever is in that IV bag is not helpful fluids of any kind, and he grows a little concerned. Superman hates causing harm, but everyone has a limit and this might just end up testing the Kryptonian’s.
The pair look at each other, and after some shrugging and pinching of faces they both nod. Batman steps back, letting Flash get them out. Wonder Woman, who’d been out of sight, steps in once they’re gone. “That’s everyone on this floor. We’ve got the doors propped open and ready to go below.” Her voice is tight, her anger clear.
They waste no time in going to the lowest level, and Batman will admit he’s surprised it’s not another round of walled off labs. They step carefully into the open room, columns handling all the weight from above sending shadows branching out in all directions. There’s a glow coming from deeper in, a hissing and scraping that raises the hairs on the back of Batman’s neck.
A faint hum precludes what sounds like the discharge of one of the odd weapons the people in this building prefer. Unlike the Justice League, however, the target this time is clearly affected by them, if the pained scream reminiscent of a wounded jungle cat is any comparison. There’s a heavy thud, a body hitting the floor and the near immediate sounds of something shifting, writhing in a mix of pain and agitation, if Batman had to guess.
“I brought more than you asked for, stop it, please,” comes a broken sound, a man beyond his limits.
A scoff, the click of a shiny black shoe as its wearer turns. “We did you a favor, freeing you from that thing,” responds an authoritative voice dripping with all the surety of a madman high on his own judgments. “Giving it back to you goes against everything we’re trying to do. Even if the ghosts have managed to brainwash that damned Justice League, our mission hasn’t changed.” There’s a few clicks, something locking into place, and a whine of much larger charging weaponry. They all move through the shadows with greater urgency now, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter flying overhead to surround them from everywhere.
A second voice, just as fanatical as the first, picks up. “We’ll destroy this one so it can’t possess you again, and then we’re going on the offensive. Phantom may have escaped us once, but that worthless abomination won’t escape us again. Especially since we’ve identified the boy it killed thanks to you.” There’s a wheeze, a scuffle, and just as they come into sight of the bank of monitors and the glowing, electrified cage, the slightly emaciated form of Vladmir Masters is flung away from more men in white suits, weapons in hand that none of the agents above had been wielding.
Zatanna moves for the form on the floor, a hand over his mouth keeping him from shouting as he realizes who has come. Two agents stand facing the cage, weapons nearly fully charged and already aimed. Off to one side is a third, standing with hands clasped behind him in what could only be a leadership mentality. Batman takes in the feral-looking entity in the cage.
Red eyes hold no higher intelligence, turquoise skin looking gaunt. Black hair hangs free, billowing faintly with every fang-bearing snarl at the people around it. Fingers lengthened into claws rake at the metal bottom of the cage, looking for a single imperfection to tear into, and what was likely once a cape nearly as long as Batman’s own is tattered and shorn, holes blasted through in several places.
The sounds of the weapon change, drawing everyone’s attention. “Agent Alpha, order, sir?” one of the armed pair barks. A silent scoff from one of his children nearly makes him roll his eyes.
The man smirks. “Operative K, Operative O, you are clear to eliminate the abomination,” he decrees, just as projectiles fly from several hands to knock the weapons aside. Wonder Woman drops down, pinning ‘Agent Alpha’ with ease. Nightwing is raining blows down on one of the operatives, Robin slicing into the other. Batman watches them to make sure they don’t go too far while Superman tries to approach the cage.
Constantine, however, steps between them, keeping everyone back. “I don’t know what this is,” he warns, causing several scowls and no end of furrowed brows. “He isn’t like the other ones. It’s…..the whole center is there like I expect of this type of being but somehow it still feels like something’s missing.”
Zatanna nears, the man clinging to her like staying upright is impossible. “I am,” Vlad Masters says hollowly. “He belongs with me, we weren’t meant to be separate.” He dissolves into coughing, faint specks of blood on his hands sending alarm through many of them.
Zatanna helps him to kneel, taking some of the strain off of his body. “How do we fix this?” she asks gently.
Masters shudders, another round of coughing wracking his frame. “You’d need the Fenton Ghost Catcher,” he wheezes. “Huge green dream catcher on a pole. It’s how they separated us, it’s the only way to merge us back properly.” He seems to slump further and further the longer they wait, and Batman’s concern only grows.
Superman, having focused enough that Batman knows he’s listening to the man’s vitals, kneels in front of him. Several have peeled off, presumably to go locate this device. “What’s happening? Your organs are shutting down,” he says worriedly.
Vlad, far from being surprised, merely nods. “Yes. I….well I suppose there’s no point in trying to hide it any longer,” the man allows, defeat radiating from him. “I’m what is most often called a ‘halfa’. An accident with a prototype portal when I was in college exposed me to otherwise fatal amounts of ectoplasm. Instead of killing me, however, it altered my genetic structure and ultimately formed what the ghosts call a core. A central aspect of being that ectoplasm is formed around to act as a body. Because of this, when the Ghost Catcher separated us, it separated all of the organic tissue from all of the ectoplasm, but my human body is incomplete without the ectoplasm, it’s just as much a part of me now as the carbon and magnesium of my human half.”
Nightwing, Robin, and Wonder Woman return while he’s speaking. Wonder Woman has an unsightly glowing contraption that can only be the ghost catcher he spoke of. “Flash is still with the ship, the ones we rescued didn’t want to be alone,” Robin reports. The speedster’s lingering absence must have irked him.
Vlad gestures to the cage. “I don’t know if you can pull him out, but you need to pass the netting over us together, ‘Merge’ side first, in order to realign us properly,” he explains.
The Lantern steps forward. “I don’t know how long I can manage, but the energy in my ring seems to give him a little trouble to get around. I may be able to hold him long enough to get you through it.” There’s several glances shared among the assembled, but eventually they nod.
Vlad manages to get to his feet, if only barely, and the Lantern retrieves the snarling form of the entity, managing to hold him. Eventually, he’ll break out, but seconds is all they need. Superman lifts the bizarre device, dropping it over the pair as soon as the Lantern releases the ghost, and as they pass through the glowing netting a single, much healthier Vlad Masters stands alone before them.
He flexes his hands briefly. “Oh, that’s much better,” he murmurs just as rings appear around his waist. The glowing white light splits, one ring going up while the other goes down, revealing the entity from before, but this time with Masters’s posture and intelligence in the glowing red eyes.
Turning back to them after he lifts himself to float away from the netting, he gives them a small bow. “In this form, they know me as Plasmius,” he says, somehow managing to sound arrogant even still. “Those you retrieved from above will need to be returned to their home dimension in order to heal properly. I can’t open that portal, nor do I have the means to call someone who can. I will leave on my own, those captured here don’t much like me. Here’s my personal cell should you require anything further.” He floats to the door, heading through the labyrinth of rooms towards the elevator.
Batman doesn’t bother trying to stop him. They’ve accomplished everything they needed to. “Looks like we’re ready to go,” Spoiler says, trying to sound chipper.
Red Robin steps away from the computer bank, nodding once. The screens flicker, Oracle clearly deep in their hard drives. “A team of Lanterns is here,” Jordan says. “Oa sent them to help retrieve and hold the guilty pending trials in case they need to get involved to help with the interdimensional aspect. They’ll take them into custody so we can focus on making sure something like this can’t happen again.” He’s clearly upset, which doesn't surprise anyone. They’re all upset.
They move after that, passing Lanterns handcuffing the agents and scientists, most still unconscious, and loading them onto a large transport ship. “How do we get them home?” Black Bat asks, soft as she always is.
Aquaman looks down at her, but no one has an answer. They’re nearing the still-hovering, cloaked ship, and the hatch lowers as they near. The question is repeated to the gathered ghosts. “You’d have to ask Dipstick,” the blue haired one, Ember, says tiredly.
The black and white one gives her a cross look. “They won’t know that name,” he says sharply. “You need to call Phantom, he can get us across.”
Batman frowns. “No one knows where he is,” he tells them, trying to be gentle. “No one’s seen Phantom in a few years now.” There’s a rather poignant pause at that, the ghosts all looking between each other.
The ship closes up, and they’re in the air before any of them speak. “None of us are really in a position to be able to find him,” the biker finally hedges. There’s something in his tone that he’s not saying, but given the GIW had captured Phantom at one point, he doesn’t push. He won’t belittle what they’ve gone through.
“Would you be willing to stay with us in a secure location until we can locate him?” Aquaman asks suddenly. “If not the Watchtower, I can take them to Atlantis. Both locations will let us monitor who has access so they cannot be hurt again.”
Batman nods, Superman and Wonder Woman both agreeing as well. “Atlantis, please,” says the young boy, Youngblood. “It’ll be easier to keep Box Lunch calm.” There’s quick agreement all around and they settle in for the trip to the Hall of Justice, where they can use the Zeta there to get them to Atlantis without anyone knowing where they’re going. They’ll be safer that way until Batman can meet up with Danny again to see what he knows.
They Zeta into the Cave, most going to shed their suits and shower off the facility. Bruce does as well, only to come out and find Tim still fully suited, hood down, glaring daggers at the Batcomputer. Hoping this isn’t going to be a rampage, he steps up behind the chair, watching the information flashing across the screens as Oracle sorts it.
A sigh interrupts his almost-gathered thoughts. “I don’t know if I like the implications we picked up today,” he murmurs.
Bruce glances down at the kid. “Where’d you get stuck?” he asks. There’s a lot of things that could have done it, but Bruce has made enough progress over the years to understand that he doesn’t always see the same connections Tim does.
Tim gestures to the side screen where Masters’s info sits. “Half human, half ghost,” he says, and honestly he sounds like he’s still condensing his thoughts. “Caused by an accident with a portal that he’d built alongside Danny’s parents. Bruce…..Danny had a portal in his basement and his parents rescued Phantom from the GIW despite years of publicly hunting him and every other ghost prior to that. And your meeting the first time, when Cass said he was afraid, like he’d been caught before.”
Bruce’s heart sinks the longer Tim talks. Because Masters’s existence can absolutely complicate things. He also doesn’t know what that could mean for Danny himself. “And if you’re right?” he asks, instead of letting himself spiral. “What happens to Danny then?” He knows how he gets when he spirals, and he can’t afford to. Nor can he afford to let Tim spiral, they’re far too alike in that regard. They need to stay focused.
A scuff announces someone behind them. “Personally? I don’t see that anything should happen. He’s already saved Tim’s life at least once, does the additional detail really matter that much?” Dick comments.
Damian, behind him, crosses his arms and nods. “It would explain several of my reservations,” the boy allows. “Secrets like that explain much of his hedging and unflappability, as well as prove he can be trusted with secrets of significant weight.” Bruce can’t help his shock. They all know Damian doesn’t take well to people, especially people who aren’t ‘in the know’ about their nightlives.
Jason seems to share the sentiment, whistling softly from the stairs leading up to the study door. “That’s impressive praise on its own,” he says, grinning. “Alfie’s got tea ready and says he’s tossing the coffeemaker if everyone doesn’t come up.”
Naturally, the threat to Tim’s coffee has him flailing upright, suit half discarded before he’s even made it to the lockers. Bruce just shakes his head, watching his children make their way upstairs. He wants to sit in the now abandoned chair and dig in, to study and pick apart and plan, but that won’t help them right now. Oracle’s still getting everything into a database, and they’ll need to meet with Danny tomorrow night to figure out how to get everyone from the GIW facility home.
So instead, he turns, heading up into the Manor proper, where his children are all gathered and fighting over Alfred’s cookies. After the night they’d all had, Bruce simply leans against the counter beside his second father and basks in knowing everyone is here and safe. Cases like this always hit hard, reminding him of what could be lost.
“Are you going to see Fenton tomorrow night?” Damian asks, having come up next to Bruce to hopefully escape the flailing of Dick and Stephanie’s argument over cookie distribution interspersed with threats from Jason.
Bruce nods. “Yes. We’ve technically done more than he’d asked, but given the gravity of what we’d missed I’m hoping the goodwill helps,” he says. There’s no reason to hide it, and given the look on Damian’s face the logic is clear enough.
“I wanna tell him,” Tim mumbles, causing most of the ruckus to stop. When Stephanie pokes him in the shoulder in silent demand to continue he just shrugs. “If I’m right? If he’s really Phantom? I want him to know he doesn’t have to go chasing down strangers if agents pop up again trying to hunt him. Because we all saw what they were doing. And you heard them down there, Phantom’s almost certainly their ‘white whale’. He deserves to know we’ve got him, regardless of what he is.”
There’s a heavy pause, everyone clearly thinking Tim’s words over. No one seems to disagree, however, and the tension Tim carries for wanting to reveal their secrets slowly bleeds away. “Go with Father, then,” Damian finally says with all of his usual confidence. “I wonder how long it would take him to recognize you.”
Bruce sighs as Stephanie slaps bills on the counter, starting a betting pool quickly enough that he’d be concerned if it was anyone else. For now, he lets it go. The levity keeps them from drowning in the things they see, the things they couldn’t stop. All they can do is move forward, and if this helps them keep fighting and doesn’t break Alfred’s table, Bruce calls that a win.
Once again suited up, Batman alights outside a townhouse window. Red Robin lands just behind him as he picks the lock on the window and slips inside. He lets Red Robin get in behind him before focusing on the bedroom door, faint sounds suggesting Danny hasn’t yet gone to bed. He considers doing something dramatic, but that’s not what he’s here for.
He knows their comms are wide open, and most are gathered nearby to either watch or be close enough to intervene just in case this goes south. None of them truly expect it, of course, but none of them are prone to leaving loose ends, either.
“Mr. Fenton,” he says, an alert that they’re there as much as anything.
The bedroom door swings open, revealing Danny in loose fitting lounge pants and a tank top. He’s not nearly as surprised as most people are, and there’s a brief moment of silence where he just stares. “What happened?” he finally asks.
Bruce will admit, if only to himself, that he’s impressed. “You’ve likely heard that the ECTO Acts have been repealed,” he says, waiting for the affirming nod. “We also took the liberty of locating and raiding every location controlled by the Ghost Investigation Ward. There were captives in the last location that we don’t know how to get home.” He’d considered piecing it out to test his reactions, but Danny has proven that he’s not an enemy.
Danny had gone impossibly still. Bruce watches him carefully, seeing the rage in his eyes despite his body staying mostly loose. “Who did they have?” he asks softly and, aware of his childrens’ tales, he sees for himself what they meant when they say Danny could be dangerous. He doesn’t wonder anymore if his children were biased.
Red Robin moves into the light then, drawing Danny’s gaze. “They had one they called Ember, a pair that looked super young, Youngblood and Box Ghost, and two that we didn’t get names for. A biker and a black and white teen,” he recites gently.
Danny inhales sharply. “The biker,” he says cautiously, though anger still sits at the edge of his tone. “Was he alone or did he have a sentient shadow with him?” The question intrigues Bruce, because that’s not idle musing or guesswork.
Red Robin nods. “It had been kept apart, but they were reunited. We haven’t found anything in their systems to suggest we’ve missed anyone. There was one more, but that one’s harder to explain,” he hedges, and Bruce sees the moment the final piece clicks into place for Danny, that he knows who they are.
The man rakes a hand through his hair. “This either just got a lot simpler or a fuck-ton more complicated,” he mutters, and Bruce might have called it crossly if not for the caution.
Bruce glances at Red Robin, but lets it go for now. “We met a being named Plasmius and a device that bore your surname,” he says, wondering what Danny would make of it.
The man flinches. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Which one? There’s a few that would have kept him working for them if they’d successfully recreated them.”
That’s not how they’d expected that answer to go. “He’d called it a ghost catcher,” Red Robin says, but doesn’t get any further.
Danny pulls a phone out, though Bruce genuinely has no idea where it came from, and seriously considers destroying the device when a groggy voice answers. “GIW remade the Catcher,” he says without preamble. “I need the gun, the Finder, and possibly the Weasel, depending on what the fruitloop decides to do.” There’s what sounds like an affirmative, and Danny hangs up.
The man sighs, stepping over to the armchair and dropping into it. “I suspected they had Johnny 13,” he admits tiredly. “He’s the biker. Shadow is a part of him, an extension of his core and basically works like sentient bad luck. Poindexter is the other one, and I'm surprised they’d caught him. He’s got a lair in a locker in Amity Park’s high school, been there probably since he died in the 50s or 60s. We’re not entirely sure. Don’t ask him.”
Bruce’s brow furrows. “Why?” he asks, more out of curiosity than anything.
The look Danny pins him with surprises him. “Because to ask about a ghost’s death is one of the Infinite Realms’s greatest taboos,” is the answer, a serious edge to him that both vigilantes take note of.
The door flies open, Tucker Foley coming through with Samantha Manson and Danny’s own sister, Jasmine, behind them. There’s a faintly clanking bag over Samantha’s shoulder and a laptop of some kind under Tucker’s arm. “Who - shit, you didn’t tell me you had fucking Bats!” Tucker screeches.
Danny just snorts. “That’s not even the best part,” he says unapologetically. Red Robin turns his head and even with the domino it is clear that he’s glaring.
Sam drops the bag in Danny’s lap and turns to them with her hands on her hips. “So what’s this about? He hasn’t done anything wrong,” she hisses at the two of them.
Red Robin raises his hands. “He hasn’t,” the vigilante agrees. “We just finished raiding the GIW bases and needed a little info, that’s all.” he shakes his hands for a second before a faint beeping pulls his attention to his wrist computer.
Tucker, who had dropped onto the couch nearest Danny, wheezes. He’d been watching the interaction, and turns wide eyes on Danny, who merely grins. “Holy shit please tell me you’re joking,” the shocked man squeaks.
Danny, however, merely shrugs. “Explains all the sleeplessness, honestly,” is all he answers with, which has Tucker flopping back on the couch with enough dramatics to potentially put Dick to shame.
The girls are staring, clearly not quite on the same page. Danny looks up at Bruce, one eyebrow lifted. He’s a little surprised the man bothers to ask but has already resigned himself to this. They hadn’t planned for the others, of course, but all things considered it’s unavoidable. Especially if Red Robin is right. He nods once, and Danny sighs.
Samantha wheels on him. “They found Vlad in the GIW’s black site,” he says. “They’d split him with the Ghost Catcher, so they had all the necessary pieces to figure out I’m Phantom. Apparently most of them have been dodging me because I’m working for that one and have technically already met most of them.” It takes precious seconds for his words to sink in, and both of the girls stiffen.
That wasn’t what they’d expected, and Jasmine turns to Bruce slowly. “They separated Vlad and Plasmius?” she asks. “Where is he? He needs to get to the Far Frozen, that could have destabilized him, they need to do a full core check. Did they have anyone else?” Danny’s hand on her shoulder stops her, and Bruce isn’t entirely sure when he moved.
Tucker, having recovered from his fit, has opened the laptop, unfolded two additional screens, and is burrowed in on something. “They got Ember, Johnny, Poindexter, Youngblood, and Box Lunch out as well as Vlad,” Danny says softly. “That’s what I need the gun for, we have to portal them across, there’s no way they’re in good shape.” Everyone pauses, but Jasmine nods.
Red Robin drops onto the second armchair, relaxing out of his ‘vigilante’ posture. He removes the domino slowly, and under any other circumstance Bruce would say something. “So you really are Phantom?” he asks, much more hesitant than he usually is.
Danny nods, studying Tim’s face. Bruce wonders what he’s looking for. “You saw the file,” he finally says, not phrased as a question. Tim nods anyway. They all saw what the GIW had done to him, and not a single one of them can blame him for his caution. Not after everything.
Someone shifts enough to come through the comms. “Where’s the other one? Valerie?” Nightwing asks in his ear.
Bruce parrots the question to Danny. Oddly enough, it gets weak chuckling from everyone. “Probably glaring holes in whoever is lurking,” Sam says, and sounds far happier about it than Bruce is personally comfortable with given the ease with which she handled a collapsible electrified mace that Damian still wants to get his hands on.
Tim glances at Bruce, then back at Danny, who is simply giving them a weary smirk. “Val’s the Red Huntress,” he explains, and Tim isn’t the only one who mutters surprised curses. “We upgraded her suit right before they caught me to include a cloaking capability. It saved my half-life, honestly. My parents undid all the restraints and let the security down to get her through, but she ended up having to catch me in a Thermos because I wasn’t fully cognizant anymore. She’d have never gotten clear with me if she hadn’t been able to slip their line of sight long enough to get outside the range of the weapons. They threw my parents out, tried to blast them, failed because my mom’s actually a badass, and blacklisted them when they realized they weren’t gonna win.”
Tim stills at the mention of the elder Fentons. “So…..they’re okay? With you, I mean,” Tim asks carefully.
Samantha snorts, earning a poke in the side from Jasmine. “They didn’t know before,” Jasmine says softly. “They didn’t know…..but when he kept flicking back and forth trying to withstand the Ectoranium as they took him apart and pumped him full of everything from ammonia to tomato soup they realized it wasn’t just overshadowing. They asked me what I knew, and I told them. The government had already caught him by that point, we weren’t getting him out without help. They’d been angry at first, and we braced for the worst right up until we realized they were grieving. Their pride and joy, that damned portal, killed him and they hadn’t known.” She stops, taking in a shuddering breath. This clearly still bothers her, and Bruce thinks they all need to talk with Black Canary eventually.
“They flooded us with questions after that,” Tucker pipes up suddenly. “Danny had us all over, didn’t want to be alone with them yet. Honestly, that probably had a lot to do with it. We showed them, piece by piece to gauge how they’d react, everything we learned about ghosts, their culture, the Ghost Zone, the difference between postmortal ghosts and the Neverborn. Eventually we told them everything, and when they asked for time to process we packed a weekend bag for both Danny and Jazz and snuck them into Sam’s place.” A questioning sound from Tim makes him pause.
Samantha just smirks. “My parents think Danny’s folks are garish and unseemly and obnoxious, so they never liked him because he’s a Fenton. Tucker’s parents would have taken them without hesitation, but they didn’t have the room. Bubbe helped us dodge my parents when we needed to stash Danny, either to nurse a blaster shot for a couple days or to put him back together from one of the nastier ghost fights. Adding Jazz in wasn’t a problem, they’d probably have been less upset about her being there.” A round of snickering over the fonder memory has Bruce wanting to take them all home, honestly. They shouldn’t have had to handle such things without a proper support network.
There’s cackling in his ear, most likely Spoiler, given they’re talking about smuggling kids past parents. “When we finally all trekked back to FentonWorks, the place was a disaster,” Danny continues. “They’d torn the home defense system out and gutted most of the lab. Destroyed damn near all of the weapons, and were in the middle of burning all the physical blueprints. Mom had scrubbed the digital schematics and then eventually had Tucker go in and make sure they were all gone gone. It…..helped. We’d been afraid for years that their hatred of ghosts would extend past their love of us. Seeing them tear it all apart so it wouldn’t attack me anymore changed a lot.”
Tim wheezes, and Bruce just stands in shock. His house attacked him? The assembled Amity Parkers snicker at their confusion, Samantha and Jasmine explaining about the anti-ghost home defense system that was constantly pinging Danny’s ectoplasmic signature. Danny, meanwhile, had gotten up and worked his way around the room. Bruce tracked him, watching him meet the white-outs and tilt his head towards the kitchen.
After a brief hesitation, he opts to follow. These people aren’t a threat, and he needs to remember to treat them accordingly. Danny’s leaning against the stove, his arms crossed and concern practically radiating from him. “Where are they now? The ghosts you took out of the facility?” he asks quietly, clearly not wanting to be overheard.
Bruce wonders why. “Aquaman offered to house them in Atlantis to ensure the land dwelling people who’d hurt them can’t get to them without everyone knowing about it,” he answers honestly.
Danny nods. “And Vlad? Is he there as well?”
Bruce shakes his head. “No, he left under his own power after we’d merged him back together, mentioned the other ghosts not tolerating his presence well and insisted we find Phantom to get the rest back across. Tim’s the one who took the truths of Plasmius’s existence and started connecting your dots.” He’d considered not saying anything, but one thing he’d discovered is how uncertain Tim had always been about his place in the family. He’s observant, and can put clues together with the best of them, on par with Bruce himself, and deserves to be known for making the leap.
Danny’s response is a soft smile that has Bruce questioning how long it’ll be until this one moves into the Manor as well. “So that really is why I hadn’t met most of the vigilantes? Because I’d notice?” he asks.
Bruce doesn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Tim knew from the outset that you’d clock him, and Dick and Damian had stayed away once you’d talked to them enough to know speech patterns. Tim’s been impressed and a little concerned over your observational skills from the beginning.”
Danny goes quiet, and Bruce simply lets him. They’d achieved a lot tonight, and it is far from over yet. “Would I need to go to them or can you bring them here so I can get everyone home?” he finally asks, though there’s something in his voice that itches at Bruce’s desire to know everything.
The answer should be simple, but Bruce remembers his conversation with Dark, the warnings that Jason Blood had left them with. “I’m not keeping them from you,” he warns, not wanting to risk it sounding like anything else, “but that needs to be a longer conversation. We’d asked our occult team about what they knew, and there’s a few things I would like to ask.” He’s trying not to demand, and it seems Danny notices.
When the man does nothing but nod, Bruce considers the best order to do this. “They said Amity Park had been magically cut off from the rest of the world by denizens of the Realms older than most demons the occultist had met, intended to isolate you. Do you know why?” The shift in the air is immediate, and if Bruce didn’t know better he’d say he could see his breath in the chill.
While he hadn’t moved, Danny suddenly hits all of Bruce’s instincts, his very being screaming that there is danger in front of him. “I didn’t know,” he says with deliberate slowness, “but I know who is most likely to blame.” He’s clearly not happy, and it suggests there’s still an active threat to the man.
“They also said you were a linchpin within the Realms, though they couldn’t tell me why,” he says gently.
This question, however, doesn’t incite anger, only resignation. “Yeah….” he groans quietly. “That……is a slightly more complicated answer. If your occultists ask, tell them I bested Pariah Dark. If they know that name, they will know what I mean. I’ll explain once everyone is home. That has to take priority.” It’s not ideal, but Bruce bites back the urge to demand answers. He’ll call Constantine and see if he knows the name, or if Blood recognizes it. He can accept that he has an answer, even if he doesn’t quite understand what it means yet.
For now, it’s enough. They have what they came for, and they can coordinate the rest later. They’ll probably use the Hall of Justice as a public meeting point, but there is much to digest on both sides, and sleep still to be had. He returns to the living room after that, leaving Danny to his thoughts as he extracts Tim from what sounds to be a conversation on bazookas. He doesn’t want to know. They have answers, and will have more once they’ve updated their knowledge. For now, another group of people are safe, and Bruce can breathe a little easier.