Chapter Text
Over the course of sixteen agonizing years of living under the same roof as his crazy—yet strangely optimistic—sister and eccentric parents, you’d think Danny Fenton would have learned that nothing good ever came from hearing the words: it's just an abandoned building. But he hadn’t. He also never learned to question those words when they came out of the mouth of his gothic friend, Sam Manson.
“Guys,” Sam started, crouching down on the cheap, patterned carpet of Gotham City’s hotel room. Her eyes were sharp with something that screamed trouble. The look alone caused the two boys, Danny and Tucker Foley, to eye each other from their respective twin beds. “Hear me out.”
Danny, lying on his stomach, propped his face up with his hand, mindlessly scrolling through the very social media apps guaranteed to rot the brains of the youth. “How about no?” He said sarcastically.
Adjacent to him, Tucker leaned back against the headboard, craning his neck to try and see the crappy and grainy TV Sam was conveniently blocking. “Statistically speaking, every time you say that, we almost end up dying,” he pushed up his thick-framed glasses.
Sam waved a dismissive hand with a scoff. “Name one time, Foley.”
“Well, a prominent time would’ve been last year,” Tucker perked up, and Danny raised a brow. “First, you insisted that we join you in visiting your cousin, Pacifica Northwest, in Gravity Falls over the Summer because you didn’t want to go alone. Then that turned into us surviving a ‘Weirdmageddon’ and fighting a dangerous entity with the weirdos. And it all started with a ‘hear me out,’ mind you.”
“Okay, but—”
“Then you dragged us to New York, where there was a Kraang invasion, and we had to go with mutated quadruplet turtles and two teens to a cabin in the woods where we were tormented by other mutants every other day.”
“But—”
“And don’t forget the time you made us go to Japan for some charity event and we had to help a bunch of sorcerers fight off an evil curse.”
“Okay, okay. Good point,” Sam placed a finger on her chin, clearly remembering the events that occurred only a few months ago. “But that was last year, so it’s not a real argument.”
“It is when he’s right,” Danny muttered, turning his phone off. Not because he was invested in the conversation or what Sam had to say, but because he had reached the end of Paulina Sanchez’s Instagram posts. There’s nothing else to keep his sixteen-year-old mind entertained.
“Listen.” Sam stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “Arkham Asylum is scheduled for demolition in one month—”
“Yippee,” Tucker cheered dryly and sarcastically, earning a chuckle out of Danny.
Sam frowned, but continued as if she hadn’t heard them. “Arkham Asylum is scheduled for demolition in one month. It’s completely abandoned and hasn’t had a patient in over a decade. Users from Gotham’s subreddit also claim that it’s haunted.”
“You know,” Danny cuts in, “when we signed up for this field trip, I actually went home and studied this place out of curiosity.”
“And…?” Sam inquired.
“I found an article on the old infrastructure,” Danny continued, sitting criss-cross on his bed, “the previous buildings had lead lining and were just overall polluted. People think this is why there are so many clinically insane patients. A whole generation was affected. But also people say there’s a curse, so maybe that’s it.”
“... A curse?” Tucker looked up. “I know about the crappy infrastructure, but curse…”
Sam smirked. “I’ve heard of it.”
“People say Gotham is cursed. Though the origin changed depending on the post,” Danny explained. “Perhaps that could explain why some of the bad guys are actually licensed professionals or successful in their careers.”
Tucker turned towards Sam. “And you want us to set foot inside the one place where Gotham’s WORST were held?”
Sam nodded with an innocent-like smile. “Yup. That’s what makes it intriguing.”
“Sam.”
“Danny.”
“No. Way.”
“Whew,” Tucker sighed a breath of relief, wiping away invisible sweat.
“C’mon,” Sam shrugged. “We’ll be in and out. Ten minutes. You forget that we’ll be invisible.” She winked towards Danny.
He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it. Running a hand through his raven hair, Danny pondered.
“Danny…,” Tucker whipped his head towards his friend. “Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering this?!”
Sam sharply hushed him. “Let Danny think, Tuck! He doesn’t do it often.”
“Ha, Ha,” Danny said dryly.
“So what will it be, Danny?” Sam asked while Tucker looked in between the two as if he didn’t recognize them. “Staying here in this boring hotel or having fun in the asylum?”
Danny sighed. It was truly up to him.
“In and out.”
“In and out,” Sam nods. Tucker blinks.
“Ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes,” Sam nods. Tucker blinks again.
“And we’ll use my powers to stay on the low,” Danny states. “Gotham prisons are…,” he shivers.
“We’ll use your powers to stay on the low,” Sam echoes. “Now, is it a yes, Fenton?”
Danny didn’t respond.
Sam grinned as if she’d won an environmentally friendly lottery. Tucker couldn’t believe the situation, but the universe had not deceived him. Before Sam barged in, he and Danny, mainly Tucker, had agreed to stay awake to see if some of the girls would sneak off to the pool. And if they do, then they would just coincidentally watch.
But, no.
Sneaking out of the hotel was, of course, easy. Well, if you consider accidentally phasing in the middle of ongoing Gotham traffic and nearly avoiding death easy, then yeah. It was easy.
And sneaking into Arkham Asylum went on without a hitch.
Danny used his powers to phase them through the perimeter fence and the walls of the facility. Inside, Arkham smelled of dust, mildew, and something sour that clung to the inside of Danny’s nostrils. He would breathe through his mouth, but he’d be damned if he were to taste it.
Cells lined the hallways, and the doors hung open. Water, or what he hoped was water, leaked from exposed, rusted pipes, echoing throughout the surrounding area. He wished that was the only sound he heard, but it wasn’t. The pitter-patter of rats and roaches could be heard… everywhere, actually. There wasn’t a definitive source.
Danny wished he could blame the overwhelming, yet eerie sense of omnipresent critters for the crawling sensation along his spine. But he couldn’t. And he couldn’t even blame it on ghosts, either. Not really. He could sense them, but they were not active. It seems the trauma was so deeply embedded it had fossilized them. The ghosts.
Danny swallowed.
“This place sucks,” Tucker said, looking around. “It’s practically rotting.”
Sam inhales, taking in the horrid smell. “It sure is.”
They split up slightly.
Sam wandered down a corridor that contained more cells while Danny followed a step behind. They peered inside, frowning at the rusted restraints, walls that had been clawed at, and left behind bloodied syringes.
“They treated these patients horribly,” Sam muttered, her voice low. “Could you imagine living like this?”
“... Nope,” Danny replied quietly.
At that moment, he wondered if he’d share a similar fate to the previous patients if Danny were caught by GIW. That organization hasn’t been on his mind in recent years, though they were a pain when he first got his powers at fourteen.
Meanwhile, Tucker had wandered into a room off the main hallway.
His eyes lit up at what looked like an old security room. The screens were covered in a decade’s worth of dust and seemed dead. But Tucker, being the tech genius that he was, couldn’t resist. He smirked as he cracked his knuckles before fiddling with tangled cables. A faint hum came from the monitors.
“Yes!” He celebrated his success. He has done it again.
A screen flickered to life, showing a video, though no audio could be heard. On the grainy footage, a figure walked cautiously down a hallway. The posture, the outfit, the movement. It was unmistakable.
“Whoa…,” Tucker whispered. “That’s Robin.”
Specifically, the second Robin. If it were the first Boy Wonder, then he would’ve performed an entire acrobatic routine by now. Tucker squinted as the tape froze. “Ugh, technical glitch.” He jabbed a few buttons, and the video resumed. Robin fell through what looked like a laundry chute. The screen went black again. He looked around before his eyes landed on the nearest drawer. He tried to pull it open, but it was stuck.
Just then, Sam and Danny sauntered over.
“You ready to go, Tuck?” Danny asked. We’ve already overstayed our ten-minute limit by… a lot—what are you doing?”
“Trying to get the drawer open,” Tucker said, half to them, half to himself. “... Might be more footage…”
He gave the drawer a final yank, and it popped open. Tucker stuck his hand in the drawer trying to feel for any contents. More footage, preferably. But instead, roaches, hundreds of them, covered his hand and began crawling up his arm. A high-pitched scream escaped him as he swatted wildly. The roaches landed onto the desk, scuttled crunchily across the floor… and onto Danny.
Danny shrieked, and in the fear, panic, and pure chaos of the moment, his powers—which were already acting off in this place—triggered. Green energy pulsed, and the concrete floor beneath them groaned. And a fraction of a second later, a loud crack split the air… and the floor.
A massive section of the floor collapsed entirely. Dust, chunks of plaster, and debris cascaded down into the two lower levels, leaving a gaping hole that stretched through the facility. The three of them scrambled to the edges of the wreckage.
Sam crossed her arms and stared at the two boys. “Nice… real nice, you guys,” she said flatly.
The boys froze, and as Tucker began to panic, Danny leaned over the edge, peering down into the darkness. He used his glowing green eyes to his advantage to illuminate the wreckage. And something caught his eye.
Bright, grotesque green hair.
Purple fabric.
“... What the?” he muttered.
He hovered down through the gaping hole. Sam and Tucker exchanged a look, then jumped through after him, landing clumsily on the lower level. Dust swirled through the air.
Tucker almost loses his balance, but Sam stabilizes him. They watch Danny as he examines the rubble before moving away a big chunk of it. Intrigued, Sam inched closer while Tucker cautiously followed behind. Danny seemed to be frozen. She couldn’t quite see, even with the glow of Danny’s eyes illuminating it, so she used the flashlight on her mobile phone to see.
Under the light was the face of a pale man with sharp features and a gnarly hairline.
“... The Joker,” they muttered in unison. Shock hits them all at once at the same time.
“He’s… dead…,” Tucker gulped. His eyes began to widen as he tried to process everything. “Lawsuits. Criminal charges. Murder. Breaking and entry. Destruction of private property. Trespassing…” he immediately pauses his panic and puts a finger on his chin, “... Did I say murder already?”
All three stared at the body.
“Uh… yeah. That… that just happened…,” Danny stammered.
“Uhm, Sam…,” Tucker looked at her, “know any good lawyers?”
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I hope you guys look good in orange because jail is definitely in our futures.”
“Jail?” Danny cut in. “I think you mean hell. We’ll probably see Bill there. Or maybe all of those Kraang and mutants that were kinda murdered during the take back of New York.”
Tucker suddenly perked up. “Maybe… We won’t get caught.”
“Won’t get caught,” Sam mocked him. “Gotham is home to the world’s greatest detective. And I’ve read some articles about the guy. He does not play about anybody hurting the Joker.”
“... Who’s the world’s greatest detective?” Danny asked.
“The Caped Crusader, Batman,” Sam replied before placing a hand on her temple, her stress evident. “Okay, we need to leave immediately. We’re not from Gotham, so we could only hope we could leave before they find a lead.”
“Speaking of Batman,” Tucker paused. “I think Robin is here. He fell through a laundry chute. The tape stopped after that.”
Sam grimaced. “... Dang it.”
Danny sighed. “I’ll check.”
Both of them turned to him.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “What if Robin was already rescued by Batman. Surely he would’ve come for him. You’d just be checking for nothing.”
“I’m sure,” Danny nodded. “You two… should wait somewhere… not illegal.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Such as…?”
Cut to a ten-minute walk down a few blocks and past a guy speaking in riddles, Sam and Tucker found themselves sitting in a brightly lit burger joint. Tucker stared down at his tray. He had ordered a Joker burger with a side of Riddler fries, and a large Penguin ice tea to quench his thirst.
“I hate that I’m starving right now,” Tucker muttered.
Sam took a bite of her Poison Ivy grand salad. “Stress eating is normal.”
Tucker shakes his head. “This ain’t right. We’re about to chow down, and our boy, Danny, isn’t here. A moment of silence, please—”
“Oh, brother…” Sam mutters.
“Here’s to our homeboy,” Tucker continued, “Daniel Jackson Fenton. Who ain’t here.”
Back in Arkham, Danny moved alone. It seemed the Joker didn’t have a ghost, nothing to tether him to the living world.
He went back to the security room and rewinded the footage. Danny was then able to deduce where the laundry chute was located. Phasing through the floor, Danny followed the chute to the lower levels of the asylum. And it looked to be in worse conditions in comparison to the parts he and his friends managed to explore.
And the end of the chute was a net. Though it looked as if it served its purpose in catching whoever or whatever it needed to catch.
Now, all he needed to do was search this ransacked part of the asylum, and his consciousness would feel light enough to walk—fly—away from this place. He phased through walls, albeit quickly. More careful and controlled.
And that’s when he felt it.
Not a ghost.
But something much more alive.
Danny stopped midair. He knows calling out, “... Hello?” in a place that could be considered slasher movie bait isn’t wise and goes against every single rule, but he did so anyway.
No answer.
He followed the sensation to a long corridor. Danny couldn’t find a door ora visible entrance. Fortunately for him, he didn’t need it. He simply phased through.
And immediately wished he hadn’t.
The room was small and bare with a single flickering light overhead.
In the middle of the room was a wheelchair with someone slumped forward in it. Barbed wire was wrapped around his torso, and ropes bound his wrists and ankles respectively. The guy seemed to be wearing a suit that was torn and bloodied. A prominent black circle with a white letter “R” was barely visible on the left side of his chest under the grime and damage.
Robin, Danny pieced together. He had to be dead…
“... Okay,” he whispered. “Nope. No more dead people tonight.”
He started to turn away. His conscience wouldn’t be too guilt-ridden if he left right now. But then a sound stopped him. A pained groan. His ghost sense has been humming all night, nothing too prominent. It didn’t spike near Robin, which means…
He’s alive, he turned back immediately, heart pounding. Definitely alive.
He floated closer, carefully and cautiously, every instinct warning him not to startle him… which could be difficult considering he’s a humanoid ghost.
“Hey…” he said softly.
Robin’s head jerked up, and his eyes flew open. Fear and confusion flashed across his face as he registered the way Danny hovered inches off the ground. He thrashed instinctively. The barbed wire bit deeper into his tors,o and his wrists rubbed againstthe rope.
“Hey. Don’t—don’t move…” Danny stammered. “I mean. You can. Just… gently. You’re going to hurt yourself technically under my watch. My consciousness does not need that right now.”
The boy stared up at him, breathing fast, eyes locked on Danny like he expected him to either attack or vanish into midair.
“... Who,” he rasped, swallowing painfully, “who are you?”
Danny hesitated.
“Okay,” he said. “This is gonna sound fake. Like, seriously fake. But in my defense, this night has been really wild.” He paused before muttering, “... I might be charged with murd—”
Robin’s fingers curled tighter around the rope.
Danny winced. “Right. Short version. Gotcha…”
He gestured towards himself. “I’m Casper,” he said simply. “The friendly ghost.”
Silence.
If it weren’t for all the roaches, he’s sure he would’ve heard a cricket somewhere.
Robin blinked once.
Danny blinked back.
“... You’re kidding.”
Danny’s shoulders loosened just a bit. “I’m sure you’re wishing I was.”
Robin stared harder, his eyes flickering between his snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, and jumpsuit. Wordlessly, he began to nod.
“... Sure,” he said hoarsely. “You’re Casper, man.”
Danny nodded. “Yup.”
Something in Robin’s posture shifted. Just a bit. Like the tension finally cracked.
“... Okay, Casper,” he said softly. “If you’re so friendly, then… can you help me?”
Danny’s expression softened immediately.
“That’s,” he said gently, drifting closer, “literally what I came to do.”
He placed his hands on Robin’s body to phase him out of the restraints. But he couldn’t help but grimace at the restraints. “Wow. That’s… a lot of barbed wire.”
“Joker’s handiwork,” Robin muttered.
“Ah,” Danny said. “That tracks.”
Danny phased Robin out of the restraints, and he sagged forward with a broken sound. Danny caught him and helped him stand; the weight surprised him. It seemed Robin was fit. Danny wasn’t as scrawny as he was when he was fourteen. I mean, he has helped save the world a few times. He’s quite toned. But this Robin guy was different. He was also a tad taller than him.
“Uh, you okay?” Danny murmured.
Robin hummed as his gloved fingers twitched, then curled into the dark fabric of Danny’s jumpsuit. His head slumped against Danny’s shoulder, weak with exhaustion.
Danny swallowed.
Hard.
“You’re gonna hate this next part,” he warned softly.
With Robin in his arms, Danny phased through the walls of the asylum. The cold, Gotham air rushed through him—inside him—like his nerves had been dipped in ice.
And as Danny predicted, Robin did in fact hate this next part.
He gagged.
“Oh—oh no—!”
Danny barely managed to turn his head before Robin threw up. It splattered down the front of Danny’s jumpsuit.
He froze mid-air and looked down.
Then back at Robin.
Then down again.
His jumpsuit was now stained with a yellow liquid vomit ,which was just mucus and stomach acids. It didn’t just stay on the front of his jumpsuit; it began running down his torso.
“... Okay,” Danny said flatly.
Robin swallowed hard, presumably the rest of his vomit, his face burning despite everything. “... Sorry, man.”
“It’s alright,” he sighed. “Just to be absolutely clear, this is officially the worst rescue I’ve ever done. And I’ve done a lot in my ghost career.”
Robin let out a weak huff that might’ve been a laugh.
Outside Arkham, Danny set Robin down carefully, leaning him against a tree a good distance from the facility. Robin sagged against the trunk of the tree, breathing shallow but steady. Danny shifted slightly, hovering a few inches off the ground.
“... So,” he said, tentatively, “Where do you want to go?”
Robin blinked, clearly not expecting the question.
“... I can’t exactly say. I don’t want to lead you—,”
“To your dark and spooky lair?” Danny continued.
“Not my lair, but yes,” he said before continuing after a beat, “So, I wouldn’t mind just… sitting out here for a while.”
Danny smiled faintly. Sam and Tucker would just have to wait. “Alright.”
He drifted down and took a seat beside him. Robin scooted over a bit to make room for Danny so he could lean against the tree. Above them, the Moon and stars were out, but the city’s pollution made it difficult to see. However, Danny couldn’t help but think it strangely added to the charm.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
Then Robin glanced sideways at him. “So… are you Gotham’s newest hero? Vigilante?”
Danny blinked. “No, no, definitely not. I’m just… here on a field trip.”
“A field trip,” Robin echoed before huffing out a weak laugh, before he could stop himself.
After a moment, he asked, “... What was that loud sound back there?”
Danny scratched the back of his neck. “Uh. So. Funny story.”
“Casper, the friendly ghost, just saved me from an abandoned asylum,” Robin said flatly. “Nothing is funnier than that.”
“Right…” Danny muttered. “The roof kinda… collapsed. And, uh. Crushed the Joker. Fatally.”
Robin stared at him.
“... Is that bad?” Danny rushed to add. “He’s kinda known for being y’now a D1 maniac all. And if it is bad, it was definitely my friend TUCKER FOLEY’s fault, got that?”
Robin considered this. “... No,” he said finally. “Not really. He got his.”
Danny straightened instantly. “Cool. Then yeah. That was all me, actually.”
Robin huffed weakly.
Danny couldn’t help but smile in response. He was on a roll in getting Robin to lighten up despite his mysterious circumstances. And he wanted to hear more of it.
“My friends and I were scared out of our minds when we found him. I mean, Tuck was practically about to begin researching his rights—especially the Miranda ones.”
Danny looked sideways and could see Robin smiling. “... Then how did you find me?”
Danny shrugged. “My friend wanted to explore Arkham. And so, my other friend and I followed.”
“I’m assuming that other friend is Tucker Foley,” Robin cut in.
“Why aren’t you a quick learner,” Danny smiled before continuing, “But yeah, Tucker had said he saw a tape, and on it he said he saw you fall down a laundry chute. He didn’t see you again—partly because the tape ended.”
“Ah, I see,” Robin nodded.
Danny hesitated.
“How’d you end up… there?”
Robin’s jaw tightened. He hesitated, then spoke quietly.
“The Joker kidnapped a bus full of kindergarten children and slaughtered all of them. He dismembered the children and mismatchingly sewed their limbs and body parts together, returning the patchwork corpses to their parents. I wanted justice. So, I went rogue and tried to hunt the clown in Arkham Asylum, but it was one big trap, and it led to me being trapped… in there for weeks. And it would’ve been much longer, if not for you.”
Danny stared, horrified.
“... Wow,” he said. “Okay. And I thought my villains were a pain.”
They allowed for the silence to stretch between them before Robin broke it. “Where are you from?”
“Illinois.”
“Ah,” he said. “The Midwest.”
“Yup,” Danny said. “My town—or city—I don’t know what we identify as. Practically in the middle of nowhere.”
“The perfect place for ghosts,” Robin said dryly.
“You assume correctly. Ghosts in the park are insane,” Danny makes a circling motion near his head. “I’ve got one that wants to be my stepdad, one that wants to put me on a wall, and one that leaves slobber everywhere.”
Robin raised an eyebrow.
“... He’s a dog,” Danny added.
“... Gotcha,” he managed a thumbs up before asking, “How did you get your powers, Casper? You seem pretty alive to me.”
“I was fourteen,” Danny began. “When my parents built a very strange machine. It was designed to view a world unseen.”
Robin blinked. “Wha—”
“When it didn’t quite work,” Danny continued, warming up now, “my folks, they just quit. But then I took a look inside of it—”
Robin stared at him.
“There was a great big flash, everything just changed, my molecules got all rearranged—”
Robin squinted.
“When I first woke up, I realized I had snow-white hair and glowing green eyes—”
“Hey, Casper,” Robin interrupted.
Danny stopped. “... Yeah?”
“I get it,” Robin said. “You stepped into a machine—probably contaminated with ectoplasm—and died… then came back.”
“I could’ve just said it like that, huh?” Danny wondered.
Robin shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.
There it is again…
“I can’t believe you just rapped your origin story to me, man.”
Danny shrugged. “It’s how I tell some people…”
He wasn’t lying or exaggerating. He performed this little rap usually alongside Tucker when they had to tell their comrades his power set. Mabel, Michelangelo, and Gojo found it fairly entertaining. The others were haters.
“I believe that…” Robin smiled.
They shared a moment of silence, and before Danny could second-guess himself, a beam of light tore through the clouds, carving a shape of a bat across Gotham’s smoggy night. Danny doesn’t know what it is, but it’s definitely contributing to the light pollution.
Robin straightened slightly beside him, breath hitching. “That’s the signal… the Bat signal.”
Danny followed the direction of Robin’s gaze until he spotted the source. A tall building, lights blazing at the top.
“GCPD,” Robin said. “Can you get me there, Casper?”
Danny stood, offering a hand. “Yeah. Of course.”
Robin took it and stood to his feet—albeit wobbly from still being weak. Danny stepped forward and wrapped an arm around him.
“Just to warn you, I’m going to have to do that phasing thing again,” Danny warned. “So, try not to vomit again. You kinda ruined my suit.”
“I’m sure you could wash it.”
“Respectfully, I’m going to burn this when I get home.”
The two phased through the entirety of the Gotham City Police Department and onto the rooftop. Robin clenched his jaw hard enough to ache as he tried to keep the vomit from pouring out.
A man in a trench coat—sturdy build, dark skin, and short dark hair—spun around, hand already on the holster. He froze the second he saw who Danny was lowering down.
“... Ja–?” he paused before releasing a breath, “Robin…”
Danny gently leaned Robin against the concrete. “Found him in Arkham,” he said quickly, already backing away. “Tied up. Super bad vibes. Would not recommend.”
The man—Danny presumed was a detective—crouched instantly, eyes scanning Robin like he was afraid he’d disappear before his very eyes. “Jesus Christ…”
He looked up sharply. “Who are you?”
Danny paused. He really didn’t want to rap his theme song again, and by the look Robin shoots at him, he doesn’t want Danny to rap either. So, he settled for the next best thing. With perfect confidence, he sang, “Who ya gonna call—” And phased straight through the rooftop.
“... Ghostbusters,” Robin weakly continued before shaking his head, “Seriously?”
Detective James Gordon stared at the empty spot for a long moment.
“... I need a vacation,” he muttered.
The Bat landed seconds later.
The cape barely settled before Batman, Bruce Wayne, was on his knees, hands shaking as they framed the boy’s face. “... Jason. You’re here… alive.”
“Hey, B…”
Bruce brought Jason into a hug that was too tight, but he didn’t care. He didn’t think he’d ever see Jason again. He looked over his shoulder to see Gordon lighting a cigarette.
“... Who brought him here?”
“Ghostbusters.”
“... Ghostbusters?” Bruce frowned.
Jason smiled fondly. “More like Casper.”
Danny reappeared in a random, dingy alleyway that smelled of pure regret. He transformed back into his human form and followed the sound of erratic, high-pitched laughter that could only belong to one person to a burger joint where his friends sat.
“You took forever,” Tucker said, shivering. “I thought you got arrested.”
Danny dropped into a booth, nudging Sam to make room. “I rescued Robin.”
Tucker slapped the table. “I knew it! That tape meant something!”
Danny stole a fry from Tucker’s tray. “Though a detective saw me. I told him I was Ghostbusters. Because of that, I might be on a watchlist.”
Tucker nodded at the same time Sam muttered, “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”
They snuck back into the hotel later. Danny phased them through the walls like nothing had happened. But when Danny’s head hit the pillow, he couldn’t help but think about Robin.
The boy who called him Casper.