Chapter Text
Jason is missing.
Bruce’s son is missing.
Gone.
Taken.
By neon green skeletons with questionable fashion taste, of all things.
It had started a month ago.
Wonder Woman had shared a story on the watch tower. “A strange tale that ought to be shared, though it seems of little immediate importance,” she had said. And she was right. A secondhand story she had heard from a professor of Aztec History and his assistants during a museum trade.
Three skeletons, each in wild clothing. One in han dynasty lacquer armor, with pom-poms glued to it, another in Hollywood's idea of roman armor accented by a sparkly pink tutu, and finally one who the professor had taken a personal affront to.
“He was ranting like a madman.” Diana recalled, tapping at the table, expression somewhere between concerned and amused. “Telling me of what had been done to the skeleton jaguar warrior’s armor and weapons in exquisite detail. A Macahuitil and Chimalli, which had been bedazzled “by a drunken fool,” as he called it. The poor man was in tears as he spoke of the state of the shield, as not many survive to this day, and besides the additions, he claimed the artifacts were in wondrous condition. His assistant was sighing about the stitching on the ichcahuipilli.”
“The skeleton was itchy?” Flash had asked through a mouthful of food.
“It was wearing an ichcahuipilli. A cotton armor common in mesoamerica.” Diana corrected. “Similar to a european gambeson.”
“A what?”
“Were the skeletons just there to torture the museum workers?” Hawkwoman had interrupted before Wonder Woman could go into a lecture on different sorts of armor.
“Ah, no. The youngest there was insisting how she saw Charles, the one in Han dynasty armor, reach through the glass to touch a sacrificial necklace, made of human jawbones and obsidian.”
“Wait, how’d she know its name?”
“There were nametags, it seems. Charles, Vince, and Herman.”
This revelation prompted several snorts of laughter from around the table, a few members of the league debating which was which.
“The necklace. They didn’t take it?” Batman had checked. If this story was a robbery, then there might be a reason for all this. “And they did not recognize the exact artifacts the skeletons were wearing?”
“As far as I know, the armor they were wearing does not match anything that has been stolen.” Wonder Woman has shrugged. “And no, the necklace is still there. It had always frightened the poor girl, claimed it gave her “the creeps.” She now refuses to go near the display case on principle. Especially since the security cameras show nothing of this experience.”
Green Lantern had rolled his eyes. “So, did they find the gas leak?”
Despite Hal’s theory, Batman had his doubts. Mass hallucinations of the same hyperspecific beings were unlikely. In curiosity, he had looked into the rumors of glowing green skeletons, and found several more stories. A girl scout troop in New Mexico delighted to tell the story of a samurai with a teddy bear that had guided them back to a path. Rambled reports of green vikings sailing the Indigirka river in the Sakha Republic.
As far as Batman could tell, there seemed to be three groups- one in the Americas, traveling north from Guatemala, one in northeastern Russia traveling southwest, and one in Namibia, traveling north. No clear images, no video, just eyewitness reports, repeating the same descriptions along the same paths.
Curious. But not immediately concerning. There were other things to devote his time to.
And then, Damian had run into them.
An excursion with Jon, flying about in Colorado (something about trying to see a baby buffalo). When they stopped for lunch, a pair of skeletons had appeared out of the brush. “Lazarus Green,” Damian had called them.
Jon hadn’t been able to hide his delight as he shared the descriptions. “The first one looked like a metal tube with a sunhat!” (Bronze age greek armor, Damian had clarified, with a boar’s tusk helmet. And a sunhat.) “He had a big lanyard that said his name was Duane. And then the other one was in a military uniform, and it had this massive orange feather boa! Its nametag said Dolores! Or, at least it did…”
Despite Jon’s fascination with the skeletons' fashion, it was Damian the skeletons seemed to be fascinated by in turn. Approaching him, patting his head, his arms, his cheeks, chattering at each other in strange staticky noises.
“They were annoying.” Damian reports, arms crossed and glowering into the middle distance like he could see them even now. “I tried to knock them away, but it was like they weren’t there. Their hands were on me, but I couldn’t hit them at all. Dolores put its hand on my chest, and I grabbed its nametag. That seemed to be solid. When I tore it, the other one- Duane, it knocked me down and raised its sword at me. Then they vanished.”
“Into thin air!” Jon exclaims, gesturing wildly. “I couldn’t hear them, or see them, at all! Just poof!”
“You are unharmed?” Batman checked.
“They were bothersome, Father, nothing more.” Damian sniffs.
Bothersome, maybe. But Batman doubted they were “nothing more.” The skeletons were curious, about Damian specifically. That was clear enough, when the American group changed course, from aimless wandering to a due course east, moving faster than they had been before. They had a goal now, it seemed.
And that goal was Gotham.
They arrived in just under a week. Around 230 miles a day, his brain had helpfully supplied when the first sighting came in. What was it about Damian that had made them move so quickly? What was it that they wanted? What were they looking for, wandering through the streets, pausing at shadowy corners, walking through security like it wasn’t there at museums and private collections alike? Why were they seen so much more often, out on the streets of Gotham, then during their mad dash across the country?
Unknown variables. Unknown motives. Unknown weaknesses. Their files were full of nothing but their descriptions and fashion choices. It set Batman on edge, not knowing. He couldn’t fight back if something went wrong. He couldn’t protect Damian if their curiosity became more than that. He had tried to bench Robin, only to be met with loud complaints and being reminded that not only would he still have to leave the house to go to school, they weren’t sure if the Batcave’s own security would hold up against the skeletons.
Compromise, then. Robin doesn’t go anywhere alone- in or out of costume.
Batman had reached out to Justice League Dark for answers. Shazam and Zatanna had no idea. Just that they “felt like death,” which wasn’t particularly helpful. Constantine was unable to be contacted- something about a Tokoloshe. Also unhelpful.
And then the skeletons had shifted MO.
Almost overnight, they turned from passive museum enthusiasts to thieves. Craft stores had their entire stock taken off the shelves. Clothing stores had their t-shirts, hats, and accessories picked over. Mad Hatter and the Riddler got into a fight over who had stolen the other’s supplies for their next heist, only for the culprit to turn out to be a skeleton wearing a football jersey with the name “Smith” on the back. An entire bulk shipment of assorted stickers stolen. A costume store robbed clean. Nurse’s ID lanyards robbed from Gotham General.
While they were still reeling from the abrupt change, the skeletons shifted focus once again. Exclusive parties crashed, the skeletons chasing about specific targets with enthusiasm. Five stores, completely cleared out of jewelry. A Hot Topic, three cheap department stores, and one high-class boutique in the diamond district. Designer gowns stolen from the fashion district. About half a million dollars worth of merchandise stolen.
“Glow up.” Cassandra announces when Oracle makes the report. Steph, Dick, and Tim all cackle. Bruce let them. It was a ridiculous situation they were in.
And then, the next day, it suddenly wasn’t as ridiculous.
“Red Hood has made contact with our glowing guests.” Oracle reports over comms. “Some static in his audio. Cams aren't picking up the skeletons. I think they were trying to take something from an alley kid? Patching you through.”
Batman had pulled himself out of a fight (Robin and Spoiler had it under control) to listen. The burst of static was a shock, even if he had been warned- their tech doesn’t do that.
“Robin wasn’t kidding, you guys are touchy.” Red Hood grumbles. “Oi- yes that is my pec, what the hell- hey!”
“Red Hood.” Batman grumbled, jaw clenching. He wants to be there. He’s not allowed in Jason’s territory. He is respecting his children's boundaries. He is.
The static crackled again. “I’m fucking fine, they’re just- alright, thats it, hands off- oh what the fuck, its in me-”
In him?
“Red Hood, report.” Batman demanded, giving into his instinct and firing his grapple in the direction of crime alley. In him? The skeletons had demonstrated phasing capabilities. Was one trying to climb inside him?
“They’re-” Red Hood’s words crackle out under a new wave of static. “Let me go-!” A loud crackle, an angry shout, a gunshot. “Damnit, O! Backup!”
“Batman and Red Robin are on route.” Oracle reports. “Just stay put, Red Hood.”
“Not my choi-”
The rest of Red Hood’s words are drowned out under a wave of static. Batman can guess what he was about to say, though. When he drops into the alley where Red Hood’s locator last pinged, it's empty.
Jason is gone.
His son has been taken.
They question the street kid Red Hood was protecting- all the boy can tell them is that the skeletons took his pocket knife, and when Red Hood showed up they ganged up on him, dragging him off before vanishing.
Gone.
They double down on patrols- hunting, searching, finding nothing. No one patrols alone. Batwoman and Batwing join them. Still, they find nothing.
The skeletons shift targets again. Now, they’re taking things from the museums they were so peacefully perusing before. Old necklaces, paintings, blankets. A doll that’s been perched in the front of an old historical townhome for as long as Batman can remember. An old revolver from the GCPD evidence locker. The bust of Jonathan Wayne in city hall. The glass figurines Mrs. Brixman puts on display that Duke always claims creeps him out. The entire catering order to a high-class gala. An occult shop’s beloved old rocking horse that moves on its own sometimes. More random, seemingly unconnected thefts, all across Gotham, and even sneaking into surrounding suburban areas.
They can’t catch them. The skeletons pass through walls, handcuffs, ropes, like they aren't even there. The only thing that seems to bother the things is attacking their namecards and doohickeys, and even those become intangible. They can’t follow them. They vanish into nothingness, the glow and their prizes along with them. Oracle tracks the blurs of malfunctioning cameras and adds theft after theft to their file, but no base of operations. No connection between items. No motive. No reason they took him. Nothing.
Jason had been talking about the skeletons touching him. “Robin was right.” Were they going to take Damian? Had him ripping the Dolores nametag driven them off? Saved his life?
Were they going to come back for him? Could Batman stop them? Was he going to be helpless, useless, unable to protect his children?
The only thing that stopped him from benching Robin this time was a skeleton- one in an indian kavacha and a derby fascinator that walked right into the batcave and stole several items- most taken from magically inclined rouges in the past.
Right through the wards that Constantine had set up.
And that, at least, had finally gotten them some answers.
“They’re the personal army of enslaved souls belonging to bloody Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realm.”
“The Infinite Realm?” Red Robin checked, already typing away at the batcomputer. “And is bloody, like, part of his title, or are you being british at us, because…”
“It’s the realm between realms. All dimensions, all afterlives, all universes float within it like veggies in the primordial soup.” Constantine growls over the Justice League communicator. “Its denizens are on par with demi-gods, the most powerful type of ghost there is. Might makes right for those bastards. They’re impossible to kill, difficult to banish, and their base powers alone make ‘em threats. The King is the nastiest customer of ‘em all. The strongest. The Maddest. I heard he was locked away a millenia ago, after upsettin’ the balance when he tried to conquer the livin’ realm. His army showin’ up means nothin’ good. If he’s free…”
“This mess is an army?” Robin demanded. “I question their uniform choices.”
“Yeah, don’t get that part either.” Constantine muttered. “But it doesn’t matter. This lot’s just the scouting party. If the main force shows up, we’re fucked.”
“What are they scouting for?” Batman demands. “Why their interest in Robin? Why did they take Red Hood?”
“From what you’ve sent me, looks like fault lines, places where the veil is thin. A place where they can pull back the curtain and let the tyrant take center stage.” Constantine sighs. “I’m gathering up Justice League Dark- we should be able to make some sort of shield to block the bastard out. Heavy on ‘should.’”
“And Red Hood?” Batman demands. He hates this. Magic. Alternate dimensions. All things that take his training and make it worthless. He needs to protect his children- he can’t fail them again.
“He and the tyke are the ones who kicked it, yeah?”
Bruce feels the breath leave his lungs. He can see Dick straighten up too, fists clenching as he glares at the communicator.
“Constantine, you-”
“Look, Pariah is coming to expand his territory. Findin’ someone who escaped him probably ain’t gonna make him too happy. Robin was lucky- Looks like the Red Hood wasn’t.”Constantine continues. “It’s why I’m tryin’ to keep a low profile. See ya if this doesn’t blow up in my face, Bats. Ta.”
And with that, Constantine cut contact.
No information on what might have happened to Jason. Nothing on where he might be kept. No way to track the skeletons, to fight them, to do anything but sit on their hands and wait for some magic spell to maybe block the main force.
They find some old mentions of Pariah Dark- of the invasion of their world, the defense of it, how Pariah was taken down by beings known as the Ancients and sealed away. But how to defend themselves? As humans? Beyond guesswork, salt, and holy water, they had nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Batman can’t do nothing. He can’t sit back.
He can’t fail his son again.
He can’t fail any of his children.
He needs to protect them. He needs to save them. He needs to find Red Hood, needs to see him, even if his son won't let him hold him. Needs-
“Oracle to all teams. Check in.”
Batman swings himself onto a roof, looking behind him. Robin and Nightwing are a few buildings over, close enough for him to see Nightwing lift his hand to his comm but far enough away that he can only hear the words though his own.
“Nightwing checking in, Batman and Robin are in sight and intact.” Nightwing reports, clear and static-free. “It’s as dead as a doornail around us, and that’s without the ghosts.”
“There was absolutely nothing at that storage unit except for an employee questioning their usage of psychedelics.” Robin growls. “Perhaps they shall quit.”
Unlikely. The employee had thought it was a bad trip when they saw the skeleton walking through the unit doors, but had still managed a rather coherent description of the thief. It was Herman. Still, they have no idea what exactly was taken- the storage units were self-serve and public. They didn’t exactly have inventory lists they could cross reference. Instead, they had searched the entire building and found nothing.
The comms come to life once more- not with static, but with the distant sounds of a fight.
“Spoiler checking in. We found a drug deal. Batwoman and Black Bat are dealing with them.” Spoiler says shortly. “Honestly, rude. Don’t these guys know we’re busy? Postpone your crime, man.”
Unlikely. Crime in Gotham never sleeps.
“I’d suggest a time sheet, but they’d probably do like, the opposite.” Spoiler continues on. “Then again, maybe we should do it and reverse psychology them, say we’re busy when we aren’t and that we’re out in full force when we’re not. Hey, Red Robin, think you can set that up? I bet we’ll get at least a dozen people that way.”
The comms go quiet.
“...uh. Red Robin?”
Batman’s heart drops to his stomach. No reply. There should be a reply. Red Robin had a timer set to go off every twenty minutes as a reminder. Even if he’s busy with a fight, Signal should be with him. Even if they’re tailing someone and can’t speak, a tap to the comm shows that they’re listening and present.
“Signal. Red Robin. Report.” Batman demands. Sharp. Desperate. He can’t. He can’t lose them too. He should have been there. He should have- should have-
Static. Loud. Crackling in his ear.
krsshhhh“Red-”krsshh “R-port-”
“Red Robin?” Oracle says quickly. “Red Robin, Signal, do you read me?”
krsshhhh “ooww-” That’s Signals voice. Red Robin was the first. Both are talking. The static seems to fade, ever so slightly, until finally, finally, their voices come through.
“R-tch- Robin to Ora-le. Are we clear of the interf-rence?”
“Not quite, Red Robin, but we can hear you.” Oracle says smoothly. “I have your location. Batman and his group are closest. Talk to me.”
The moment the location pings, Batman is on the move. He can hear the sounds of Nightwing and Robin following him.
“My head h-rts.” Signal groans into the comm. “I might th-ow up.”
“Do it over the edge.” Red Robin orders.
“Report.” Batman drops into the Batmobile, already pressing the gas pedal even as Robin and Nightwing close their doors. He’ll need to cross the bridge to midtown to get to them.
“Signal saw something overhead.” Red Robin’s voice is all business over the choked groans of Signal’s discomfort. “Same green as the skeletons, fifty feet up, descending rapidly. We held our position to gain info. Four beings landed, no previous sightings. To our northeast.”
“New ones?” Robin checks. “Are you sure?”
“They’re pretty identifiable, Robin.” Red Robin hisses. “Two skeletons, one in a dented chest plate plate, I’d say around fourteen-fifties, covered in stickers. The other has got sunflowers stuck in its eye sockets.”
Those weren’t descriptions they had seen before. And, what’s more…
“You said four beings.” Spoiler says quickly. “Only two were skeletons?”
The skeletons had never brought others.
“Yeah. We’ve got Clifford the Big Red Dog’s evil twin, and a vaguely humanoid figure. With flesh. And hair.”
“I don’t like that one.” Signal groans.
“Signal doesn’t like that one.” Red Robin repeats. “They’re really bright, apparently.”
“Bright. Dark.” Signal whimpers. “Lots of eyes. Stars? I just looked into a supernova and a black hole at once. It was wearing the ugliest vest I’ve ever seen.”
Batman runs a red light and ignores the honks of other drivers. Signal’s meta abilities seem to have taken a beating. “Red Robin, get Signal into a recovery position. Give me a description.”
“...I agree about the vest actually, it is god awful.” Red Robin hums. “There’s… there’s streamers. And glowsticks, I think. My eyes hurt. Not as badly as Signal’s, but… yeah. Brace yourselves. I think it might make even Nightwing embarrassed to wear it.”
“Hey.” Nightwing mutters under his breath.
Robin clicks his tongue. “At the very least, we know this entity and the skeletons are working together.”
“Or they have the same stylist.” Spoiler says dryly. “Maybe we should ask.”
“Well, I’ve got good news for you.” Red Robin announces as the Batmobile comes to a stop, the three of them launching themselves out to scale the walls. “I heard them talk.”
Batman doesn't pause. Doesn’t let the news affect him outwardly. But on the inside, a flicker of hope forces itself into existence.
If this entity can talk, it can give information. It can answer questions.
He intends to get every answer he can from them.
They clamber onto the roof where Oracle has led them, finding Signal leaning over the edge looking slightly worse for wear while Red Robin stands guard over him, camouflaged against a wall and looking northeast with a small set of binoculars.
A knot that twisted itself into Batman’s heart eases at the sight of them, whole and unharmed. Even if Signal is looking a bit green.
He pulls a bottle of dramamine out of his utility belt, passing it to Nightwing as he goes to Signal’s side. Batman steps up beside Red Robin, following his sightline.
There, on the roof of the third building over. A faint green glow, three humanoid figures, one large green dog. With the zoom function on his cowl, he can pick out details- the yellow of the sunflowers, a shock of white hair, a flowing cape.
It’s far.
“I’ve got no cameras in the area Red Robin indicated.” Oracle reports. “Most electronics in the building are down as well.”
“You had to come all this way for the static to let up?” Batman checks. With the skeletons, it was only in close quarters that comms truly cut out. This is nearly an entire block.
“We went another roof further just to make sure there was as little interference as possible.” Red Robin explains, motioning to the middle distance. “Given Signal’s reaction, I think it’s proportional to the power of the being.”
Wonderful.
“You said you heard them speak?”
“Not close enough to make out anything useful.” Red Robin admits. “Pretty sure it was English, though.”
“How can you be sure if you don’t know what was said?” Robin demands, popping up at Batman’s elbow.
“I distinctly heard “wow, this place is-” before I got a little distracted by Signal keeling over.”
“If you had paid more attention, perhaps-"
“Robin.” Batman grunts, and the rooftop falls silent.
Alright.
“Nightwing, you’re with me. Robin, stay here.”
“What?!” Robin yelps. “But I-”
“I’d prefer to put you in the batmobile and send you back to the cave.” Batman interrupts, cutting Robin off before he can complain further. “I’d also prefer Black Bat be a viable option, to know everything we can about them, but I won’t risk either of you. Robin, you’ve dealt with them before. Watch them.”
“Is that you subtly telling us to stay back?” Spoiler asks into the comms. Batman ignores her in favor of waiting for Robin's response.
“...yes, father.” Robin mutters, but he seems mollified. Batman turns to his other children.
“Red Robin. Work with Oracle to see if you can lessen comm interference on site. Oracle, I know you’ve been trying, but we need to get into contact with Justice League Dark. Preferably Constantine. Signal, if you detect any changes, inform Oracle immediately.”
Signal gives him a thumbs up without looking at him.
“You three are our connection. At least one of you must remain in contact with Oracle at all times. Do not approach unless a fight breaks out. If you need us to extract, use your flares.”
“Understood.” Red Robin confirms.
Right. Those three, at least, will be out of the immediate danger. Hopefully the girls will have the sense to stay back.
…does it count as jinxing himself if he doesn’t say it out loud?
“Nightwing. We’ll approach from a different angle, to not draw attention to them.”
“Roger that. Going dark, O.”
“See you later, Boy Wonder.” Oracle replies. A promise. A demand.
Batman throws himself off the side of the building, swinging around to the south end. The unknowns have placed themself on a decently tall building, overlooking a good section of the neighborhood and skyline. Surveying their surroundings? Red Robin reported them coming from above. They could fly. Where had they come from?
Silently, he and Nightwing slide onto the roof. A degree or two colder here than expected. Humming HVAC system. Cigarette butts below their feet. A roof access door, with a metal folding chair beside it. Possible weapon. Even if they could pass through the object, a flying chair to the face tended to throw most people off.
Closer now, Batman can see the entities in better detail. The stickers covering the plate armor skeleton seem to all be cat-themed. One, placed on the rerebrace, depicts a tabby with a croc on its head like a hat. The sunflower skeleton seems to have a shimmer around them, like the memory of skin, without the flesh connecting to bone.
The dog looked to be some breed of mastiff, if it wasn’t a bright, lurid green and standing nearly eleven feet tall at the shoulders. It had a spiked black collar, with a crystal tag, and two glowing red eyes.
And a deep, deep growl.
“Holy slobber, Batman.” Nightwing mutters under his breath, shifting on his feet as the dog turns toward them, hackles raised and teeth the size of their forearms on full display. The skeletons, alerted, snap to attention, summoning their spears and slamming the ends onto the concrete roof.
“What is it, Cujo?” A new voice calls. Young. Curious. Theres an echo to it, and a faint midwestern accent. The fourth entity steps around the dog's haunches, cape fluttering around them. Glowing green eyes trail over Batman and Nightwing, the glow fading from the sclera to just the iris. “Oh, look!” The entity hums, cape settling. “New friends. Hello there.”
It really is a godawfully ugly vest.
It’s hard to say what color the base fabric was, it’s so covered in… everything. Glitter in odd, patchy areas, streamers, ribbons, stickers, tufts of fur and feathers, snips of fabric and googly eyes, glowsticks tied to the bottom hem, lace, pom poms scattered madly about, the telltale strings of a hot glue gun dangling here and there. There’s a violently orange bow placed lopsidedly by the right shoulder, a splash of purple paint on the front, and it looks like someone has tried to add a sleeve on the left side by way of crochet granny squares covered by the same detritus as the rest.
Batman feels overstimulated just looking at it.
“Welcome to Gotham.” Nightwing greets, stepping forward with a sharp smile. “Are you here for business, or pleasure?”
The entity tilts its head, smirking slightly. Batman couldn’t say whether they are male or female. Perhaps neither. What does an entity like this need gender for?
Their skin is odd- like the night sky has been made liquid, then frosted over to form their body. Constellations float across the whole of them, planets, nebulae of various colors. An asteroid streaks across their cape.
Green eyes- two or three sets, one set in a proper place for eyes, the second floating just off their temples, the third half-faded by their cheeks. The floating sets of eyes appear flat, as if not an eyeball but a rip in space. They’re breathing- a puff of vapor escapes their green-tinged lips every few seconds. Slower than average respiration rate. A strange shimmer, like the aurora borealis, haloes white hair that floats without any regard to gravity or wind. Long, elfin ears stick out, lined by piercings, small glowing stars dangling from silver metal.
“Buisiness, unfortunately.” They shrug in answer to Nightwing’s question. No weapons visible, but sharp claws and teeth. Confident. Playful. It reminds Batman of Klarion’s demeanor. “You know how it is, I’m sure. Impressive reaction time for the welcome party! I didn’t want to bother anyone, but you sure do go out of your way, huh?”
“It is our job.” Nightwing agrees. “I’m Nightwing, he/him, and this here is Batman. Do we get a name for the books?”
The entity’s grin widens. “You may call me Phantom. He/him. This good boy here is Cujo, to my left is Sunny, and to my right…”
Phantom trails off, looking over his shoulder at the cat-stickered plate armor skeleton. It tilts its head, jawbone working through the slits in its helm.
“...Bob.” it half-breathes, half-groans, like it’s unsure how words properly work. Phantom grins brightly and pats it on the shoulder.
“Great job, Bob.” He praises, before turning back to them. “My friends prefer to be referred to mostly by their name, or they/them. They have nametags. Speaking of, this place is kind of throwing me off, and you seem to be on top of things around here. Have you seen any other green skeletons around? I think this is… uh…” Phantom pulls out a notebook, seemingly from nowhere, though Batman wouldn’t be surprised if it was stuck to the vest and he didn’t spot it. “Right, Cancer team. Charles, Vince, Dolores, Smith, Herman, Duane, Rosie, Hayato, Mike, and Gordon.”
The skeleton’s names. All ones Batman recognizes, so they won’t have any surprise guests unless Phantom brings in more. “Cancer team” implies other teams, and it might not just be the other two they’ve been tracking. Also- cancer team?
Phantom lifts his gaze from the notebook to squint at them. “Any idea where they might be?”
“We were hoping you could tell us.” Batman growls. Phantom is being far too flippant for someone who seems to be leading the things that took his son.
“We’ve been having some… issues.” Nightwing agrees, crossing his arms. “Bony green issues.”
Phantom’s eyes widen, and he leans back, hand pressing over his heart. There’s rings on his hand. Most are black, contrasting against the white of his clawed hand, but one is green. Thicker. “My goodness, how terrible.” He croons, something in his demeanor sharper than it was before. Like they’ve answered a question wrong. “Must be some other green and bony being, though. My little stars would never.”
“Dolores with the feather boa?” Nightwing checks. “Charles with the pompoms? Herman the jaguar warrior?”
Phantom lets out a giddy little gasp. “Ooh, the nametags are working! That's great. You know, it was so difficult to tell them apart before. Now they have personality! Isn’t that right, Sunny?”
Sunny the sunflower skeleton nods their head, sunflowers bobbing jauntily.
So this being was the one to decorate the skeletons. From what they used, mass produced, plastic doodads, it’s likely that they’re young. Perhaps not so young as their face suggests, but young enough to not be in the ancient manuscripts they had been researching, even as a… general of Pariah Dark’s army? Is there such a position?
Constantine needs to give them more answers.
“It does make them identifiable.” Batman agrees. “Which means we know, for sure, that they were the perpetrators.”
Phantom snorts, rolling his eyes. “What, you catch ‘em on video? I doubt it.”
So he's aware of their effect on electronics.
“Watched them do it, actually.” Nightwing challenges. “I didn’t know bony fingers could be so sticky.”
The hum Phantom emits is careful, contained, but it still sends a shiver down Batman’s spine. The friendly, if teasing facade has faded, and now an uncomfortable chill, a pressure, hangs in the air. A taste of what Signal had sensed. This being was powerful, and was slowly becoming aggressive.
“Are you accusing them of thievery?"
“Yes.” Batman says shortly.
“Did they take something from you, grumpy butt?” Phantom mocks, rocking back on his heels. “Is that why you’re all growly?”
Batman glares at Phantom. The entity does not seem to be bothered in the least, simply petting Cujo’s shoulder.
“This isn’t funny.”
“I find it pretty humerus actually!” Phantom quips delightedly, like he can’t believe he got the chance to say it. “And, you know, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that whatever was ‘stolen’ from you… it was something you weren’t really supposed to have in the first place.”
Focus. Don’t punch Phantom in the face. It wouldn’t work.
His son belonged here. He might not deserve Jason, but his son deserved his life, whether it be his first or second chance at it. Jason deserved to live, to be free, healthy and safe. Angry or happy, he deserved to live. He was supposed to live and be free, in the section of the city he had claimed for his own.
“What gives you the right to say that?” Batman demands. Who is this being to claim his son’s life?
Phantom’s smirk splits into a wide grin. The third set of eyes brightens, so now there are six, glowing, watching. The pressure increases, instinctive fear whispering in the back of Batman’s skull that he is being watched by a predator, something dangerous, beyond him.
“I think you’ll find I have every right.” Phantom croons. “This city is a bit of a mess, you know. All sorts of things in all sorts of places. It’s going to be a headache to fix.”
“This is my city.” Batman’s city, Batman’s headache. He will not allow what is his to be taken. The pressure on his temples is a warning, the artificial and all too real fear the being caused, but Batman hasn’t become who he is by backing down.
“And I’ll be cleaning it up for you.” Phantom replies, grin widening, showing more teeth than any human would have. “You’re welcome.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Batman can see Nightwing unsling his escrimas, even as the skeletons heft their spears and Cujo crouches at the ready. He trails his hand towards his belt- they’ve tried blessing their weapons, in holy water and salt. He has a knife previously blessed by Zatanna. He always did like experimenting.
If it’s a fight this creature wants, it's a fight they’ll get.
“You are not welcome.” Batman growls. Nightwing lights his escrimas to punctuate the statement. (Interestingly, Phantom’s eyes flicker with fear at the crackle of electricity. A weakness? Cujo doesn’t seem frightened, and Nightwing had thrown an electrified escrima through Mike the skeleton’s face two days ago to no effect.) “You can go back where you came from, and tell Pariah Dark he has no right to my son or my city-”
“Wait, what?” Phantom interrupts, the pressure vanishing as he blinks in surprise. “They took a person? And what do you mean, Pariah Dark?”
Batman lets himself still. Phantom seems… legitimately shocked.
“Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realms?” Nightwing says slowly, as if to make sure he’s heard properly. “This is his army, right?”
“I mean, it was.” Phantom nods, still looking bewildered. The extra eyes fade back out of view. “But Pariah Dark has been overthrown. He’s not King anymore, on account of all the invading living worlds and overthrowing the balance. Hang on, is that- is that what you think is happening?”
“We were under the assumption that he was sealed away, not stripped of his title.” Batman says carefully. If Constantine has given them misinformation, he has another thing coming.
“Well- yeah, but…” Phantom trails off with a long sigh, rubbing at his face. “Okay. Sunny, Bob, stand down. Cujo. Shrink.”
The mastiff whines, then does just that, shrinking from a 900 pound green behemoth to a small, equally green puppy. It yips, once, racing around Phantom’s feet before launching into his arms and licking happily at his face.
“I think we’re on very different pages here.” Phantom announces, scratching under Cujo’s chin. “Let’s put the weapons down and catch each other up, yeah?”
Batman glances at Nightwing, keeping Phantom and his posse in view. The skeletons kidnapped his son, fact. But Phantom did seem genuinely surprised by that. And they are overpowered and outnumbered.
“Sounds good to me.” Nightwing shrugs, slipping his escrima back into their holders. Batman follows suit, allowing his cape to cover himself completely. “You start.”
“Mine’s probably gonna lead into yours.” Phantom nods. “Alright, so, you know the whole, Crown of Fire, Ring of Rage, infinite power, sealed away in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep for sins against the balance of life and death, yeah?”
“Yes.” They had learned of the artifacts through their own research, instead of via Constantine, but they knew.
“Perfect, then I can start at the easy bit.” Phantom announces, criss-crossing his legs and settling in the air like a child preparing for storytime. “Once upon a not-so-long ago, there was an idiot fruitloop. Idiot fruitloop got his hands on the Ring of Rage. Upon discovering that he needed both artifacts for Infinite Power, he decides to unlock the sarcophagus to take the crown too. Because, obviously, the Ghost King starved to death, or some equally brilliant leap of logic.”
Phantom rolls his eyes and throws his hands in the air. “Seriously, the guy calls me dumb. Like, what? You think Pariah was just gonna be cool with some old creep waking him up and taking his stuff? Fruitloop.”
Batman, world's greatest detective, suspects some bad blood between Phantom and this “fruitloop.”
“Disturbing naptime is a crime.” Nightwing nods sagely, easily slipping into camaraderie to lower Phantom’s guard. He always has been good at gaining trust, making people get chatty. It’s a useful skill, to be a good listener. You never know when something mentioned offhand could be useful later.
“Exactly!” Phantom cries. “And, like, the fruitloop didn’t even commit to trying to take the crown. He bolted, like a coward, because he talks all big until his actions have consequences, and then it’s all, oh, woe is me, I am but a poor frail old man, help me clean up my mess please. Like, deal with it yourself, you old creep. But noooooo.”
Cujo huffs in disappointment as Phantom’s waving hands do not provide scratchies. Phantom takes a deep breath, looking down at the puppy, before summoning a ball and tossing it off to the side. Cujo yelps with joy and barrels after it.
“Anyways, I was saying.” Phantom sighs, resituating himself. “My haunt contained a stable portal, between the Infinite Realms and a living world. Pariah decided it was a perfect starting point for interdimensional war crimes part two and just- sauntered right on in! Claimed it for himself! Never mind that it’s literally my grave, you know?”
Batman can’t help the flinch. Right. Ghosts. He’s been trying to ignore that this young boy is dead. Energetic, talkative, loud, bright, just like so many of his own children. Ignore it. Focus.
“Like, of course, Your Majesty, come right on in!” Phantom is saying in a mocking tone, batting his eyelashes as he bows to no one. “May I offer you some refreshments? How about a knuckle sandwich?” He punctuates this with a crack of his very knuckles. Batman wonders if ghosts have knuckles to crack, or if it’s just a memory of the sound being replayed.
Cujo returns with the ball. Phantom picks it up, uncaring of the slobber, and throws it in a new direction.
“So, I challenge him, because rude, and I win by pure desperation and spite.” Phantom shrugs, wiping his hand on his thigh. “And a stolen supersuit. But, like, I won. Three guesses what winning a challenge over territory in single combat got me.”
Ah. Not a general of the armies, but their Sovereign.
“Should we refer to you as your Majesty?” Nightwing asks. Phantom just lets out a long sigh.
“Please don’t. But, yeah. I got all of his territory. His throne, his title, his bling…” Phantom raises his left hand with a flourish, and the green ring that Batman had noticed earlier flares with light at the same time as the aurora around his head solidifies.
A signet ring, of a green skull with burning red eyes, and a jagged crown of black metal, seemingly frosted over despite the green flames burning around it.
The Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage. The Regalia of the Ghost King, which together are said to grant infinite power.
Batman and Nightwing are far out of their weight class.
Phantom barrels past the show of power without a care. “...his army of brainwashed skeletons, and his paperwork.” he concludes with distaste. “Do you want to know how much paperwork an Infinite Realm generates?”
“I’m guessing a lot?” Nightwing asks, looking slightly amused.
“SO MUCH.” Phantom groans, with the air of a child complaining about the amount of homework they’ve gotten. “Taxes, law reforms, inventory of the keep, mediations between warring parties, complaints and demands and invitations and greetings and “Please kill these guys” and “please don’t kill me’s” from people named everything from Heebie Jeebie Stevie to Ḧ̴̛͈́̃͊a̴̺̞͊̐l̸̛͓̐͂g̴̤͚̩̓̈́ö̸̖͉͎̊r̴͙̙̓͐̇͠ͅả̴̤̲̔̈́̊t̷͖̟̜͓́̌͂͛h̷̨̪̗̟̃̐͝ǫ̸̔̓r̴̜̜̩̚ ̵͖̩͕̃͌̓̓o̷̫͂̓f̸̺̥̹̈́͝ͅ ̶̻̗͓̎́͜ṫ̴̮̞͕h̸͍̳̬̆͋̽̓ë̸̝́̋ ̵̨͇̦̝̑̽͌͘Š̵̢͉͎c̷͚̣͙̈́̐̕͠r̷̝̫̫͉̃͌ẹ̶̙̣̓a̶̪̗̞͛̈́m̴̨͔̮͛̅i̸̧͈̤̇̽̕n̸̨͚̋͗́g̴͍̐̕͝ ̷͇͑̄̈́M̷̰̺̮̜͒̚a̷͍̳̪̮͒̈w̶̻̻͖̝̎͛́̚, from all over the universes, in languages I have to find translator crystals to understand, and it’s like, I barely made it through highschool, let alone get a political science degree, why am I in charge of this? I punched a guy real hard, that doesn’t seem like a proper system of government!” Phantom is pacing back and forth in the air, the skeletons watching him placidly like this is a common occurrence. “Man, they’re making me write with like, a ceremonial quill, too. Like, come on. Just gimme a pencil. That way I can fix the spelling mistakes.”
“That sounds overwhelming.” Nightwing says placatingly.
“It is!”
Cujo returns, dropping the ball before Phantom, racing off once more when the Ghost King kicks it over the Gotham skyline.
“Plus there’s ceremonial duties, and fighting beings that get too big for their britches, and hunting criminals that no one else bothered to, and lessons. And I couldn’t even refuse it, because if I did, the crown would go to the fruitloop, and,” Phantom screws his face up in disgust, “no.”
Batman has questions on why exactly the crown would go to this “Fruitloop.” He wants to know their real name, because he already has to look people in the eye and call them “Kiteman” and take them seriously.
“And, I have other things that I need to do!” Phantom exclaims, waving his hands towards Sunny and Bob. “Like- take the skeletons. There's thousands of them, and they’re all… I mean, they’re spirits. Souls. But they’ve been under Pariah Dark’s power for so long, they’ve forgotten who they were. They’re just kind of shells right now. So I have a slave army. I don’t want a slave army, that’s not cool.”
Sunny tilts their head. It must mean something to Phantom, because he hurries to reassure them.
“Not that you guys aren’t great. I love you all, you’re my stars.” He pats them on the head, one then the other, and shrugs at Batman and Nightwing. “I want to set them free, but if I do it now, when they have no sense of self, they’ll poof.”
Ah. Trying to regain a sense of self…
Nightwing snorts. “So you gave them nametags and doodads?”
“Hey, it’s working!” Phantom defends himself. “They’re making choices! Preferences! Favorite colors! Look, Sunny is getting a form that isn’t just bare bones! Bob can talk! Marissa- you haven’t met that one, but they remembered how to dance! That’s a huge improvement, we’re very proud of them.”
“Proud.” Bob repeats lowly. Phantom nods in encouragement.
“I am proud.” he agrees, patting Bob again. And then Sunny, when the skeleton looks put out.
Batman can’t take it anymore. “What does this have to do with our current situation?”
Phantom flinches, sheepishly turning to look at them. “Uh. Sorry, I got a little distracted. It is a little relevant though.”
“We’re just worried.” Nightwing soothes. “Keep going. Why are they here?”
“Right.” With a nod, Phantom continues on. “Okay, so, part of the whole reason there is a King of the Infinite Realm is to make sure that the borders don’t leak. Borders between the afterlives- let me tell you, the crack between Valhalla and the Mormon section of Heaven was not fun to fix, and there's still a leak in the Duat- but also between the realms of the living and the dead. Someone needs to pull everything back where it belongs, otherwise everything falls apart at the seams. And, you can guess by Pariah invading the living realm, he uh… didn’t do that job very well.”
“Pariah Dark was sealed for a millenia.” Batman says with a frown. Was Phantom lying, or was he missing something? “Who was doing this if he wasn’t?”
“Literally, no one.” Phantom groans. “Someone just wearing the crown is kind of a lynchpin, and the Ancients took turns trying to fix the biggest leaks, but it is… a mess. I’m an overhyped janitor slash handyman, and I work at an infinite number of locations. I don’t have enough hands for it. And I can do this!”
Phantom throws his arms out, suddenly having quite a few more than he did just a moment ago. Some are floating in the air, but a few are attached to extra arms, which Batman notes all return to the armholes of the ugly vest as if in an effort not to rip it.
“The skeletons- I don’t want to make them do stuff for me. They’ve been used enough.” Phantom sighs, fixing his arms. “But they wanted to be useful, and Jazz- uh, their therapist- says that doing things is good for them. So, they find the trouble spots. The places where a little too much death has pooled, the leaks, the artifacts that shouldn't be where they are, then I come in to fix ‘em up.”
Nightwing lets out a long, understanding hum. “We were tracking them even before they ended up in Gotham. The magic users we consulted said they were investigating areas where the veil was thin in order to begin an invasion. You’re saying the opposite?”
“I mean, they’d be great places to begin an invasion.” Phantom admits. “But you know what wars cause?”
“Paperwork?”
Phantom snaps his fingers and points at Nightwing. “Bingo. I got too much stuff to do already. Why would I try to expand my domain? I rule the Infinite Realms, and that is not just a name. Everything comes, everything goes, everything returns.”
It’s hard to spot the microexpressions under the domino masks they wear, but Batman has had years of practice reading his children. He can see Nightwing’s eyes go sharp under the white lenses, even as a curious, easy smile remains on his lips.
“What about people who’ve returned from the dead?” He asks lightly, as if it was idle curiosity and not a burning need for them to know. “Our contacts said you’d be offended by them escaping you.”
Putting things back where they belong, ensuring the balance between life and death. Phantom has been affable and generally reasonable so far, but if he decides Black Bat, Robin, and Red Hood are upsetting the balance he’s working for…
They needed Phantom. He was their best chance at finding Red Hood. He had answers.
Phantom was a threat. He was a higher level being than they could deal with. They couldn’t even touch his footsoldiers. If he decided to take Batman’s children, he wouldn’t be able to stop him.
And it all hinged on the answer to this one question.
A question Phantom answers with a shrug.
“My guy, I rule a dimension of ghosts. People who yanked themselves out of the cycle of death and rebirth and were like, nah, Ima swim in the primordial soup instead. Why should I care if someone decided to cling to life a little longer? All power to them. Plus, do you know how annoying it would be hunting them all down? And, like, what would the limit be? Do I show up at a bedside after a doctor restarts someone’s heart like “Actually, um, no, sorry.” Where's the line? And then there are thousands of types of Undead bound to the living realm, I’d have to go through them all, and it would end up being a case-by-case basis, and I’d have to personally oversee each one, and that would take forever!”
Phantom has begun pacing again, looking horrified by each word that comes out of his mouth. “Absolutely not. So long as they aren’t causing damage to other souls, I don’t care how long a road they take before they find their way home. Good for them, honestly.”
A thick knot of fear unties itself from Batman’s chest. Phantom doesn’t want them. Those who came back- his children who came back- he won’t need to lose them again, won’t have anyone torn away from him again.
Even so, his mind is racing. Phantom’s main motive for leaving them be seems to be not wanting to go through the trouble. If he doesn’t have to go out of his way, will he take them? How far does “causing damage to other souls” go? All of them had killed. Red Hood was the only one who had done so after returning. Would that take effect?
And, if Phantom didn’t care about the souls that escaped him…
“Then why did your skeletons take my son?”
“Oh, did he come back?” Phantom asks, tilting his head. “I was wondering why you thought Pariah would want him. That would make sense, if you didn’t know what was going on.”
“And what is going on?” Batman asks, gritting his teeth.
Phantom shrugs again. “I don’t know, man.”
Batman can feel the fabric of his gloves creaking. “You don’t know?”
“I promise you, I have no intention of taking souls somewhere they don’t want to be unless they’re dangerous. And if they are, it’s something I handle personally, or give to a knight. My stars aren’t supposed to interfere. I love them to death, but I don’t really trust their decision making skills.” Phantom looks apologetically at Sunny and Bob. “Their job is to find the problems, not deal with them. The only reason they should interfere is if something is harming, or going to harm, souls or the veil. Like someone trying to take over the world with a death magic artifact. That's what I thought you were mad about, because, like, no offense, you’ve got a Vibe? But now, something tells me that's not what's happening here.”
Crossing his arms, Phantom raises an eyebrow at them expectantly. Waiting for their part of the information exchange.
“That… does describe how they acted at first.” Nightwing says carefully, taking the hint. “Moving through museums, touching items but not taking them, travelling through areas without truly interacting. Things only really changed when they got to Gotham.”
Because of course. It’s Gotham.
“We don’t know what happened. They vanished for a day, then started a crime spree. Petty thefts, but they ramped up quickly. From art supplies, to jewelry, museum pieces, random objects… and Red Hood.”
“Your son?” Phantom confirms, looking at Batman. His eyes, despite the unearthly green glow, have a human sympathy to them.
Batman nods in silence.
“They’re taking food, too, so we think they still have him.” Nightwing carries on, jaw clenching. “They’re somewhere in the city. We just have no way to track them. We’re working off word of mouth, glitching cameras, dead zones in communication. Half the time, we get to the location and they’re gone.”
“You’re chasing ghosts.” Phantom says sympathetically. “It’s not easy. If they don’t want to be found, it's pretty difficult to do it.”
“You have a way.” Batman points out. He has to. Not simply because Batman needs him to, but because- “You had no way of knowing they would end up in Gotham. But you came here immediately. There were no sightings of you wandering like there were with them.”
Someone would have seen that hideous vest.
Phantom lets out a long sigh. Batman wonders if he has to breathe, or if he just feels more comfortable doing it. “I do, kinda. It’s just… I mean, this place is a little… no offense, but.”
“Cursed?” Nightwing finishes, mouth twisting in what would be a smile if it didn’t look so tired. “We’ve heard.”
“It is so much more than just cursed. There's like, layers. Curses lasagna.” Phantom stacks his hands on top of the other in awe. “The poor city spirit is smothered under it all. Curses sunk into the stone and metal, curses lining the walls, curses shoving each other to try and make room for themself. Demonic energy, at least two big names and quite a few mid to low levels. Ectoplasmic energy, anything healthy devoured, so all that's left is corrupted beyond recognition. The whole place reeks of Fear, Madness, Rot, and Death. At least eight latent powerful magical signatures and four active ones, not to mention the minor signatures that feel like those graffiti walls that are nothing but tags. Corrupted leylines, disturbed burial grounds, thousands of shades, and to top it all off, a strangely high presence of the Green for such a concrete jungle.”
Poison Ivy’s influence, most likely.
“And it’s not even just the city, either.” Phantom continues, which is a slight surprise. Batman is used to magic users declaring Gotham the worst cesspit in all the world. “This whole dimension is a little wonky. Some kind of dark force in your stars. Cracks in reality, mostly fixed, but the alignment just a bit off. Also, there's knots in your timeline, did you know that?”
“I am distantly aware.” Batman grumbles. Flashes and their messes, his own stint being lost in the timestream. He’s sure he can blame Booster Gold for some of it as well.
Phantom looks impressed by this. “Not a lot of people realize when their timeline goes screwy. I’m like, an unpaid intern with a time god, which is the only reason I can. Kinda threw me off a little when I was trying to find when exactly they were! But Cujo is a good boy with a great nose, so he was able to lead me here, but once we hit the city he got a little confused. Isn’t that right, Cujo?”
The rooftop is silent.
Phantom blinks, looking around himself. Batman does the same. The first two times the ball was thrown, Cujo had returned rather swiftly. About thirty seconds. The benefits of being a flying hyperactive puppy.
But this time, it’s been nearly six minutes.
“Europa.” Phantom hisses, in the same tone someone might say “fuck.” “Cujo! Here boy!”
Batman quickly goes back over their conversation. Phantom had thrown the first two, but kicked the third, which due to his pacing had been in an entirely different direction. Southwest.
…southwest. Where Red Robin, Signal, and Robin were watching.
Robin, who Phantom might label as not being where he’s meant to be. Who Phantom might take.
Signal, who was dry heaving over the side of a roof at the mere sight of Phantom.
Red Robin, who was their one connection to Oracle, who might trigger a complete family attack if his comms went off-
“There you are!” Phantom laughs, as the neon green puppy slides to a stop on the roof. The pup whuffs, tail wagging so fast it’s a blur, and darts to its master's feet, happily depositing…
“Well, that's not your ball.” Phantom bends down, picking up the batarang. Bob peers curiously over his shoulder. “Where’d you get this, Cujo?”
Cujo must have found Robin. His youngest son’s bond with animals has always been impressive. If he was interesting to the skeletons, it makes sense that a ghost dog would be drawn in by the same qualities, if not the dog treats he always kept in his utility belt.
…whatever quality that might be. Phantom said he was uninterested in those who returned from the dead. Then what was it that had them so fascinated with Robin? According to the boys, they ignored Jon completely. Why?
Batman needed more information.
Information he could only get from Phantom. Information he could likely only get if he allowed the Ghost King to interact with, and inspect, his youngest.
The little voice in the back of his head screaming that he’s about to doom his children, Batman speaks up.
“Your Majesty.”
“Please don’t.” Phantom groans. “I get enough of it from the Yetis and Dora’s people.”
Yetis? What- no. Batman drags his focus back to the task at hand.
“You swear you have no intentions of taking those who returned from the dead?”
He needs to be sure.
Phantom tests the edge of the batarang, eying the symbol on Batman’s chest. “You’re a protection spirit, huh? Guard dog with a bone.”
Batman doesn’t reply. Phantom looks at him for a long moment, like he’s searching for something, before letting out a long sigh.
“This is yours, right?” He asks, lifting the batarang. “It matches.”
That isn’t what Batman wants to hear from Phantom, so he stays quiet, waiting for the being to keep talking. Either he’ll go off on an unrelated tangent, or he’ll make the non-sequitur make sense.
“I’ll assume it is, then.” Phantom shrugs. “Should work, either way.”
Phantom’s eyes burn Lazarus green, the Gotham night darkening around him. His cape flares out behind him, the stars flickering into brightness.
An attack? A show of power? What is he…
“Batman, Knight of the Lady Gotham, Guardian Spirit.” Phantom’s voice echoes, quiet as a whisper and yet so loud it seems to reverberate in Batman’s chest. “To you I, Daniel Nightingale Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, Lord of the Cosmos, Defender of the Veil, He who Walks the Line of Life and Death, do hereby swear that no soul who has returned from the dead without dragging another down in their place need fear me claiming them against their will.”
Phantom holds his hand out, the batarang shining with frost, and cuts into his palm. “This I swear, upon the stars of my core, the blood in my veins, the protection I owe my people upon the honor of the throne. I give to you this weapon, which has tasted my essence and hungers for more, so that should I break this vow you may take your retribution.”
The batarang fits easily into Batman’s hand, just as the thousands he’s held before have, but there's something different about this one. Heavier. Colder.
Magic.
“It’ll wake up if I break the vow.” Phantom promises, the glow of his eyes fading back into irises and pupils. This close, Batman can see something else, too- faint, glowing lines, like cracks, up the left side of his face. Like Lichtenburg scars. They were supposed to fade, but…
“Hnn.” Batman grunts. Insurance.
Phantom grins up at him, backing away. “Anyways, this whole thing about being angry at people coming back to life?” he says, with the same mischievous expression Batman has seen on Spoiler just before she upends a tub of glitter onto an unsuspecting Robin. “I would be a hypocrite if I had a problem with it.”
A blinding light bursts from Phantom.
It clears in the next moment, and doesn’t leave spots in his vision, but Batman is still on guard with the moment of lost visibility. He glares at the ghost-
Phantom has changed.
The floating, glowing, slightly transparent entity in the ugly vest has been replaced by a small, skinny teenage boy, in the ugly vest. Beneath it, he’s wearing a NASA hoodie, tattered jeans, and faded red converse. White hair has turned black and is now subject to gravity, and toxic green eyes have been replaced by ice blue ones. The facial structure is the same, even if the elfin ears have been replaced with something more human and the skin is now pale and covered in freckles.
“I mean, I pop back to life every now and then too.” Phantom announces, the smirk well and truly back on his face as Batman and Nightwing stare at him in shock.
“...what.” Nightwing whispers. Phantom cackles at him.
“Life and Death split me in the divorce.” He jokes. “Long story, won't bore you with it. I’m alive, I’m dead, I’m an impossibility. You can call me Danny when I’m like this.”
“...Danny.” Nightwing repeats slowly. Phantom- Danny? Grins widely.
“That's my name, don’t wear it out!” Danny cheers.
Before they can react any further to the ghost coming back to life right in front of their very eyes, there's a crackle in their earpieces.
“Batm-n, Nightwing. Do you copy?”
Danny stiffens, eyes going wide. Can he hear Oracle? Why-
“Oh, comets and nebulae.” He hisses. “Do you have comms? Did I cut off communication? I’m so sorry, I totally should have dialed it down, I really didn’t mean…”
“We can hear you, O.” Nightwing says, lifting his hand to his ear and offering Danny an easy smile. “All good over here. Cleared up some misunderstandings, made some new friends.”
Batman can hear three distinct sighs of relief over comms.
“What's going on?” Oracle demands. “Signal said there w-s some kind of flare, and now most of the interference is gone. What happened?”
“The brain hurty light went away!” Signal cheers into his comm. Batman watches as Danny winces- sympathy? Guilt? Interesting, but he’ll still need to talk to Signal about not announcing weaknesses out loud.
“It’s alright, O.” Nightwing says, nodding to Danny. “King Phantom has been more than helpful, he just powered down to a different form. It’s not overwhelming Signal anymore, right?”
“…King Phantom?” Red Robin stresses, asking for clarification and confirmation at once.
“It would seem our information was outdated.” Batman grumbles. He needs to get in contact with Justice League Dark. “Robin. We’re headed to you. Signal, tell us if you need to back out.”
It's a sharp turn from his attempts to ban Robin from patrol to avoid the skeletons. Batman taps a quick code on his gauntlet- not mind-controlled.
“…Understood, father.”
Batman hums to himself, then turns back to Danny. The Ghost King is hanging back, shifting on his feet.
“Headed to them?” The boy- king- ghost asks.
“We weren’t fully honest with you earlier.” Batman admits. “The first abnormal activity your team showed was when they met someone who returned. They chased them back to Gotham.”
Danny tilts his head to the side, mouth twisted. “Someone you wanted to protect.”
Batman does not confirm or deny. “The weapon Cujo retrieved likely belonged to them. We need to understand what happened.”
“With you on that one, my guy.” Danny agrees, smiling down at Cujo. “What do you say, boy? Want to say hi to your new friend? Yeah? Yes you do-”
Nightwing sweeps into a low bow. “If you would follow me, your Majesty-”
“Ugh, don’t.”
Nightwing flips from his bow into the air. Batman follows, watching Danny’s group carefully. It seems in this form, Danny’s abilities are still present, but Sunny holds out a hand to take the King’s arm to guide him like a knight escorting a Lady. Perhaps it is because Danny is focused on Nightwing’s acrobatics, with the same delight that children often have when they watch him fly.
Robin is waiting for them, arms crossed and nose scrunched. Signal and Red Robin stand at his side, a show of support that Robin would never admit to appreciating. Signal looks better, standing straight and watching them without flinching.
Robin is covered in dog drool.
“Oh yeah.” Danny laughs, dropping lightly onto the roof, hovering about an inch above the surface before touching down. The skeletons take their post off each of his shoulders. “You’re the one Cujo was playing with. Sorry about him, it’s hard to teach a dead dog new tricks.”
Cujo promptly barrels his way into Robin’s arms, licking his chin. Robin hardly reacts beyond a small twitch. “Tt. He is just a puppy. It was fine.”
“King Danny Phantom, Sunny, Bob.” Nightwing says, though the title earns an eyeroll, “May I introduce Robin, Signal, and Red Robin.”
Danny blinks. “What, like, yum?”
Nightwing pauses. “What do you mean?”
“Reeed Robin, yum!” Danny singsongs, grinning at them. “Not a thing in this universe? Shame. They make great burgers. Now I kind of want burgers.”
From the blank looks on most of his children’s faces, they’re as unsure of how to deal with this situation as Batman is.
“I’m suing.” Red Robin says dryly.
Danny cackles. “Not sure how cross-dimensional trademarks work, but all power to you, my guy.”
“Back on topic.” Batman grunts, before anyone can get truly sidetracked on legal implications (He might tell Harvey about it though, just to see the lawyer wake back up.) “Phantom. You say your skeletons are uninterested in those returned from the dead, but they followed Robin across half the country. What can you sense?”
Danny hums, tapping his chin. “Not much, I won’t lie to you. Gotham is a lot. That's why I had my energy so spread out, which, sorry to whichever one of you got an eyeful of my more… eldritch side. Some of my human friends tell me it causes migraines.”
“Bit more than that.” Signal mutters, but offers Danny a shaky smile anyways. “I get it, my eyes are sensitive. You didn’t know it would affect me.”
“Oh, no, I’m usually much more careful.” Danny admits. “I was throwing my energy around, I can totally go ghost without all that happening. Here, I probably need to pop back anyways- close your eyes?”
Signal squeaks and does so, just in time for Phantom to flash back into his ghostly form once more. The cape is gone, as are the multiple eyes, and the flesh made of the night sky. Now, he simply appears in photo negative, with white hair where it was once black, tan skin, green eyes, and freckles that glow but are still freckles, and not stars.
“See?” Phantom announces, spreading his arms. Signal warily cracks an eye open, then the other.
“Kinda bright, but… not crazy.” he says quietly. “Wow. Looks cool, but not in the brain melting way.”
“Aw, thanks!” Phantom chirps, floating into the air. “Anyways, I was trying to get the Cancer team’s attention. Not that that ended up working. They probably didn’t notice at all.”
“How did they not notice that?” Signal squeaks, dropping the easy forgiveness to stare open mouthed at Phantom. “You were… It was…”
Phantom snorts. “The same reason I can’t get anything from Robin here. Gotham is full of all kinds of energies, all colliding and mixing. Every stone of her is cursed. It’s like searching for a coin in a pile of metal scrap with a metal detector. The closer I am, the easier it is, but… you’re all loved by your city spirit.”
“Our city spirit?” Red Robin asks, making a face.
“You mentioned that before. Said ours was smothered. What does that mean?” Nightwing asks.
“The Lady Gotham herself.” Phantom shrugs. “She’s the guardian, the personification, the accumulation of the city’s history, of energy, of the souls that reside within her borders. When I say she’s smothered, I mean…”
He frowns at the ground, gesticulating wildly in the air like he can conjure the words. “Okay, imagine this classy older lady, in a dress and pearls, and she’s in a 1 v 100 against the curses and the demons and the whatever else. And like, she’s not winning, but she’s not losing either.”
Phantom chuckles. “Probably pulls you guys out of nowhere like pocket sand. Anyways! What little power she has left, she’s used to cloak you guys, protect you from what she can. You’re her knights, her favorites. You carry her curses, her blessings, her hope. I think that's what pulled my guys here. But, just to be sure, I think I’m gonna need to stick my hand in your chest.”
“What?” Nightwing snaps, and Robin looks slightly unsure.
“Look, I can’t feel his own energy under this.” Phantom explains, motioning at Robin. “If I’m going to make sure nothing else is going on, I need to be able to feel it.”
All his children look displeased about this. Batman can remember some of the last words he heard from Red Hood- “it’s in me.” Now Phantom wants to put his hand in Robin? They need answers. Phantom has the answers. He’s been open enough, if he’s being honest, and his explanation makes some sense.
His youngest son looks uncertainly to him, but in the end…
“It’s Robin’s decision.” He won’t forbid it. He won’t insist on it.
Robin looks very much like he would have preferred the decision made for him.
Phantom interrupts the deliberation. “Do you want a knife?”
“...Do I what?”
With a wave of his hand, Phantom forms a knife out of thin air. Ice, the same that he had frosted the batarang with. He offers it to Robin, hilt first, with a wide grin. “You seem like the kind of person who would feel more comfortable if physical retaliation was an option. It won’t cause me much lasting damage, not without power of your own, but it’ll still hurt. Deal?”
Slowly, expression shifting from suspicion to calculation, Robin reaches out to take the knife, weighing it in his hand. He looks up at Phantom.
“The balance is off.”
“Robin!” Nightwing hisses.
“Tt. If I am selling access to my body for a knife, I want it to be a good knife.”
Phantom face screws up into a wince. “Kid, you stop saying it like that and you can customize your weapon of choice to the best of my sculpting ability.”
“I want two matching daggers, one with a robin on the hilt and one with a bat.” Robin says immediately.
Batman watches in bemusement as Robin makes demands of the High King of the Dead to better balance the knife and to refine the feathers of his robin, before finally his youngest holds his two (admittedly impressive) daggers.
Huh. Two weapons capable of harming ghosts, rather than the one he was originally offered. Clever robin.
“Alright, ready?” Phantom asks, hovering closer. “It’ll probably feel cold, and really weird, but it shouldn’t hurt unless something’s wrong.”
“I do not require coddling. Get on with it before I test these.” Robin demands.
Phantom laughs, seemingly unoffended, and presses his hand into Robin’s chest.
Robin isn’t the only one to twitch as it happens. It’s an odd sight, the clawed, white hand slipping past the kevlar weave and padding that keeps them all safe without a touch of resistance. Signal, especially, looks deeply discomfited by the entire thing. Batman is just grateful Phantom chooses to use the hand without the Ring of Rage on it.
Phantom lets out a long hum. “Well. That’s interesting.”
“What?” Nightwing asks, looking about two seconds from pulling Phantom away.
“He’s fine.” Phantom assures him. “He definitely carries Gotham with him. It could have been any of you that they met, and honestly most people who live in this city, to the same result. But there's something else, too. Sorry, Robin, this might feel really weird…”
Phantom’s wrist twists, Robin squeaks like one of Titus’s toys, and the next second Phantom is floating back with a smear of something toxic green on his hand.
“Gross.” The ghost chuckles, looking closer at the substance.
“Robin!” Nightwing yelps, rushing forwards to steady their youngest, who is gagging like a cat with a hairball. “Are you alright?”
“I…” Robin’s face twists, pressing his hand to this chest where Phantom’s hand just was. “My mouth tastes like Red Robin’s terrible energy drink concoctions was mixed with battery acid and then got injected into a rotten lime.”
“What was that?” Batman demands, turning on Phantom.
“Is that lazarus water?” Red Robin hisses, edging closer, a testing kit in hand and a gleam in his eye.
“It’s corrupted ectoplasm.” Phantom says cheerily, holding it out for him to inspect. “He had some stuck in him. A film, or an infection? He had already dealt with most of it, he has a strong soul. I just scraped off what was left. Might feel a little raw, but it should be healthier in the long run.”
Robin thumps his chest a final time, rolls his shoulders, and glares at Phantom. “Do I get to stab you now?”
Phantom looks disappointed. “I mean, you can if you really want to, but I don’t think you want this stuff inside you.”
Red Robin looks up from his testing. “It’s Lazarus Water.”
Batman grunts in acceptance. He had his suspicions- the “leaks” Phantom had described, combined with the color of the skeletons.
“Sorry, Lazarus water?” Phantom checks, rolling his hand. The lazarus water flows around him, pooling in his palm, glowing harshly, and vanishing with a pop.
“Lazarus pits, vats of toxic green liquid.” Red Robin explains. “Pools in caves, along leylines most often. Robin’s family on his mothers side has been seeking them out and building their bases on them for hundreds of years.”
Phantom reels back. “Wait, they actively seek out pools of stagnant ecto? Most people would avoid them at all costs! It’s a natural instinct! Why, under the 88 constellations, would someone-”
“They use them for their healing properties.”
“Thier WHAT.”
Red Robin glances at Nightwing, unsure. “I mean… kills the healthy, heals the dead and dying. Even if using them can cause madness and bouts of violent rage, the League of Assassins is willing to gamble with those odds.”
“I have been bathed in them more than once.” Robin confirms.
If a ghost can go pale, Phantom does.
“That’s… Okay, that's how you got it, but… just straight? Stagnant ecto hates being that way, it wants to move, it starts absorbing emotions and with nowhere for those emotions to go,it starts throwing temper tantrums! Usually you need to dilute it before carefully reintroducing it to a stable system, and certainly not one that doesn’t naturally accept ectoplasm-”
“Grandfather bathes in them to extend his life.” Robin says, frowning at Phantom.
Phantom twitches, gags. Buries his face in his hands.
“I don’t even want to know what that man’s soul looks like.” He groans. “But I’m definitely going to run into him when I seal up the cracks… Oh, no…”
“You have concerns.” Batman runs through his knowledge of the side effects. Every person who has been within one. The distance from the batcave to the one in Gotham’s cave systems. “I know they have a chance to cause insanity, and often cause rage within those revived-”
“Insanity?” Phantom repeats, looking up at him with wide eyes. “It’s not insanity. Those things are supercharged, angry, trapped primordial matter, denied purpose and starved for however long they were in place. Ectoplasm needs to cycle, to pass through a ghost’s consciousness, through the denizens and makeup of the realm. After being starved, it goes after anything it can get. People don’t lose their minds when they come into contact with it- they lose their souls in a pool of spiritual acid.”
Signal takes a deep breath in through his teeth, the vaguely ill expression back on his face. Nightwing leans closer to Robin like he thinks something might happen to him, while Red Robin gives a considering hum.
“Explains a lot about Ra’s, actually.” he shrugs. “Except, you said Robin here had a soul. What's the difference between him and others?”
“Luck, determination, and a powerful soul.” Phantom shrugs. “Once corrupted ectoplasm enters a system, it sends that system into overdrive, like a rubber band that's been stretched to the limit. Huge amounts of pain, overwhelming energy, pressure finally given an outlet.”
That does describe the sensation Batman remembers from when he had been placed in one. Use of the pits had always been condemned by magic users, but none have given him proper answers like this.
Still, there are some holes.
“What does it mean that Robin had some in him?” Batman demands. If it was a soul-eating acid…
“Once you master it, it loses some of its energy. Ectoplasm like that is contrary, but it’s in its nature to follow the will of souls and spirits.” Phantom explains. “It’s still not good for you- corruptive, like I said before. Sticky. Carries emotions you might not actually feel, warps perceptions, stunts growth. But if you survive initially, you can absolutely filter it out of your own system like Robin did.”
“Is that why you were a little demon?” Red Robin asks Robin, who promptly raises his new weapons.
“I am curious what these do to mortal flesh, Tuhali, shall we test it?”
“Tuhali?” Phantom whispers, bemused.
Nightwing places himself between the Robins with practiced ease and a frown. “Wait, quick question. Most people who go into the pits, the rage ends, they calm down. But Red Hood, he still gets episodes of rage. What would that mean?”
Phantom blinks, opens his mouth, closes it. Squints into the middle distance. Mutters under his breath.
Finally he looks up at Nightwing with a flat expression and a long shrug. “No idea, my guy. I’m not a doctor. I can give you a guess if I can get a good look at him, but…”
“We aren’t getting anywhere like this.” Batman grunts. This information is useful, and he desperately wants to get everything he can from Phantom, but Red Hood comes first. “Phantom, do you have any other options?”
“Right- got distracted when Cujo went missing.” Phantom nods. “Okay, next step would be to ask native ghosts, but anything here is either eaten by Lady Gotham, strong enough to leave, or too weak to do much of anything at all. So, I can try to make an ecto-scanner. Should cut through all the magic and demon and time nonsense that's throwing me off and register only ectoplasmic energy, which will still be a lot, but better than going through the whole city manually. I have some of the needed parts, but stuff like this always works best if it's mixed with materials from the home dimension.”
“We have scanners you can piggyback off of.” Red Robin offers immediately, glancing at Batman. They technically have multiple. The Batcave and the manor both have scanners, but they’re not bringing unknowns there. The Clocktower is out, as is Wayne Tower and the Nest, but they have multiple lower-level options. “The one on 15th?”
Close by. Near the center of Gotham, better to scan the whole city, also within easy distance of the docks, Robinson Park, and Gotham Academy. Weapons and tech stored there for them to offer as spare parts for Phantom’s tinkering.
Batman nods, already pulling his grapple from his belt and moving to the safehouse. His children follow without question. Phantom floats above them, watching them swing with the same patient fascination that a super might.
“What sort of parts will you need?” Red Robin asks, running across a roof as Phantom floats beside him.
“You got a microwave?” Phantom asks, casually floating through a water tank. “I’m used to working with what I get. I can bang one of these out in a few minutes, though the scan itself might take some time.”
“We can go over the timeline more closely while it works.” Nightwing suggests, twisting into an unnecessary flip. “We have maps of the sightings and lists of what they took.”
“Maybe you can find a pattern where we couldn’t.” Signal adds. He’s not hesitating as much as he did a few months ago. Progressing well.
Batman hangs further back with Robin as they get closer to the safehouse, letting his brighter children lead the way. Out of Phantom’s view, he quickly signs (go ahead, talking to O.) to his youngest. Robin nods once, sharply, then leaps forward to join the others.
“Phantom! Do you require your assistants for building the item, or can I request a spar?”
Batman watches them go, wondering if it is perhaps a bad idea to unleash them all upon interdimensional royalty.
Ah well. Phantom seems to be cut from the same cloth as they are, and he’ll be working on the scanner. Batman needs to update Oracle and the others, and it will be easier with as little interference as possible.”
“Oracle, Agent A, do you copy?”
“Loud and clear, Batman. Need something?”
Batman watches as Robin and the Skeletons bow to each other, Nightwing and Signal watching on as Phantom and Red Robin slip through a window.
“A new file.”