Chapter Text
#BatFashion.
Casper High School is very much into Halloween. Sometimes even a little too much. The most favorite part is the entertainment! Who doesn't love to have fun for the holidays? Well, the answer to this situation can only be one - those who have to organize the holiday first and clean up all the trash afterwards. It was Friday, the last day before the weekend, the party dedicated to the Day of Terror and Fear had just ended. After last year's incident with the Knight of Fear and the thwarted haunted house competition, it had been decided to hold an event of a calmer nature: the Costume Contest. The main theme of the week was the outfits of Justice League heroes and Gotham vigilantes. Scattered remnants of unnecessary clothes were sticking out everywhere: from the stairwells to the schoolyard. And who had the honor of volunteering to clean it all up?
— Daniel Fenton, you have been put in charge of cleaning up the schoolyard. - came the stern and somewhat tired voice of an adult. The teenager didn't like the tone at once, and it was clear that Lancer wasn't in the mood to listen to him. Two friends, who stood next to him, looked indignant and annoyed.
— But why me?! I didn't skip school and I even turned in my homework! Almost on time! - The expressive look in his blue eyes expressed bewilderment and astonishingly tired discontent.
He'd sacrificed the last of his nerve cells to even out his GPA at least a little, and his bags under his eyes looked like Sam was trying to tie him to Goth culture.
— Let's see, Mr. Fenton... - the English teacher pretended to mentally unfold the paper list in front of his eyes and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand:
— A broken faucet last week.
— It was an accident! - interrupts the teenager, mentally recalling how a ghost cobra crawled out of the faucet and took up residence in the damp, cramped space.
— The chewed office in the teacher's lounge and the broken test tubes...- Lancer continued listing the list of incidents, waiting for the teenager to run out of fantasy excuses.
— I know I was there, but it was ghosts, I swear! Blobs really like to play with small objects and..
— The broken flagpole - well that was outrageous! The damn pole was several meters high, and some school jerk thought hanging it from the hood of his sweatshirt would be a great idea. Was Danny to blame for that too!?
Tucker fixed his glasses and squared his shoulders, even though he wasn't a fan of arguing with teachers, knowing that he himself could get punished for it, he decided to stand up for his friend:
— Mr. Lancer, Dash bullied Danny and strung him up. - The initiative was picked up by Sam, who showed her predatory vampire gaze:
— Exactly. Why should he get away with it? Besides, one student can't clean up an entire school. - It should go without saying that if her friend hadn't been a half-ghost, he might have been seriously hurt. It was only because of his abilities and experience that he had managed to group himself well enough to avoid breaking his legs when he fell.
— Dash scored the decisive goal on the last play of the game, which pulled our school to the next level in the rankings, and he's no stranger to that. The same can't be said for you, Mr. Foley and Mrs. Manson. If you're persistent enough to protect Mr. Fenton, you'll be persistent enough to help him finish cleaning up, won't you? Now, if you'll excuse me. - The teacher smirked smugly, took a small book out of his back pocket, and walked away without looking up.
The three teenagers sighed and looked around at the mess in the hallways. Danny whistled as he surveyed the damage:
— And then they say my ghost fights do a lot of damage. It feels like a Vortex blight went through here. - The teen pulled a colorful cloth from his locker door that looked like a cheap, torn domino mask.
Sam snatched it from her friend's hands with a fury, then threw it at the nearest trash can:
— Mr. Lancer sometimes acts like he's got a stick up his ass. Seriously. Doesn't a single adult in this stupid town care if a kid gets hurt? Not to mention the animals. Did you hear that? The other day our biology teacher said they're gonna teach lab work with rats!
— Face it, Sam, this school is never gonna change. All we have to do is wait for graduation. - Tucker adjusts the straps of his backpack and walks over to another mask, which, unlike the last one, looked intact and of very good quality:
— Hey, Danny, look at me, - the ghost boy responded to his name and turned to his friend, who had just put a blue-and-black mask on his face that fit him perfectly:
— Dude, you're like a real bat! Cool! - Tuck pulled out his PDA and snapped a photo, Danny immediately squinted at the sudden flash, and then tried to wipe his eyes out of habit, but the mask prevented him from doing so. To be honest, he'd always wanted to try wearing masks like that on his face. Sure, they were just carnival decorations, but they were damn uncomfortable! What did the Gotham vigilantes use to make their costumes and masks that they fit like a second skin?
Sam immediately looked at Danny with an appraising gaze. Her eyes lit up with the same enthusiasm that always got them into trouble:
— Sam, I know that look. What are you gonna do? If it involves stealing rats from the lab, I'm out. I don't need any more detentions or I'll be staying at this school to live. - Danny frowned, remembering how they'd done this sort of thing with frogs before, and more than once. (Sam had gotten four new pets at the last one).
— That, too. But it'll have to wait. I have an idea of what we can do this weekend-two interested eyes stared at the Goth girl, who turned to the pile of costumes on the floor and pulled out a more or less complete Nightwing costume. She took it full-length by the shoulders and put it against Danny's body, who stared on in bewilderment:
— We've been busy all week with phantom squabbles and homework. But we never got to go to that furry party. How about we take a couple outfits and redesign them? -
Danny didn't look too sure about that idea.
— Sounds cool. Dude, you're bats! Just imagine. I'm gonna film this and put it on social media! - Tucker immediately wrote something down in his PDA and then showed them his phone screen afterward:
— Their costumes are really something! I don't know about you, but I would love to stand next to a real hero!
Sam immediately coughed unhappily, drawing Tucker's attention to herself:
— Tucker, Danny is a hero. And you're standing next to him.
— Yeah, but that's not exactly what I meant. No offense, man," Tucker rubbed his red beret a little awkwardly, which had moved a little to the side when he touched it.
Danny only averted his gaze, which wasn't visible behind the domino mask, and slumped his shoulders a little, holding the vigilante outfit in his hands. The blue bird was spread across his chest, showing bold flight and the smell of freedom. (and maybe a little sweat left over from wearing it.)
— I don't know, guys. I mean, I don't have the best reputation. I'd hate to see your hard work go to waste. - Even if they did something really cool, their classmates would find a way to get at them and say a lot of nasty things. Of course, you should never pay attention to such things, you should create for fun. But... Let's be honest, can you really ignore all the nasty things you have to listen to day in and day out forever? When Danny was Fenton, he had to listen to a lot of bad stuff, simply because he's the son of ghost hunters. And even when their family proved that they weren't a bunch of crazies, the bullying didn't stop.
And as for the Phantom? Half the people in their town still think he's a threat. His own parents threaten to tear him apart, molecule by molecule.
molecule by molecule. How can you stay emotionally stable after all this?
Good thing he had Jaz and his best friends by his side:
— Screw it, bro. We're going to have fun! Besides, with those cool masks, no one will recognize you! No amount of Fenton luck can stop us from partying. - Tucker put his hand on Danny's shoulder and Sam crossed her arms over her chest with a confident easy smile, nodding her head slightly in agreement.
Danny really is grateful to have friends like that.
— Okay, let's do this then! But before we get started. -
They're gonna have to clean up the school.
.
.
.
Evening came. The street darkened and the streetlights came on. Three teenagers were walking down the street with a couple of full garbage bags, into which they had stacked the most adequate-looking fabrics. One part they would be able to tear for raw materials, the other to finalize. Tired but satisfied, the boys made their way to their homes and unsubscribed messages to each other in their shared chat room. Tomorrow they would have a pretty tough day ahead of them. Funny enough, Danny wasn't even late home this time. Except there was no dinner in the kitchen, and there were voices coming from the lab, the sounds of welding and activity. Looks like his parents were starting some sort of new project that he should check out later. To be honest, the boy hadn't really thought about exactly how much things had been going wrong lately.
He and his parents used to be able to spend at least an hour together over breakfast or dinner. Even though their conversations were all about ghosts. But at least they cared about school absences! And grades...(the boy kept quiet about the times his parents brought up his and Jazz's birthdays)
The tired look in his blue eyes looked around the room: on the walls hung old, time-worn posters of NASA, the Martian Manhunter, several Gotham vigilantes, and his old.... His old drawings. Once upon a time, a boy dreamed of being an astronaut. To go high, high up, to reach for the bright stars! But-- Now those plans were cut short. Who'd have thought he'd die at 14, right?
One day he came home in despair, full of anger and accumulated stress. Looking at his drawings on the walls, his hands itched to rip them up and tear them to shreds. Jazz arrived just in time to stop him from doing so. Then she said a phrase that Danny remembered to this day:
"You don't have to give up on your own dreams. Even if you can't make them come true. Your dreams are an extension of you, an embodiment of you, a part of you. Especially if they've been with you since you were a child. "
His sister was the person who noticed Danny's fascination with the stars. She came up with the idea to hang glowing stars on the ceiling in his room. She was the person who first took him to the observatory. Danny will never admit how much he loves and respects his sister. Sure, older sisters or brothers can be nasty sometimes, right? But you can't deny the love, care, and affection. The younger brother has missed his sister a lot since she left for college. But he never wanted to stop her and prevent her from achieving her own desires.
"After all, you can't give up on them, right Jazzy...?" - Danny was proud of how far his sister had come on her own. And he couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself, looking at his ruined title page with grades that barely reached average. Maybe one day he could go to college, too. Start living an ordinary life, devoid of the hero element, make new friends, get a new hobby? The boy liked space more than anything else in the world. And despite the fact that his own core was woven of ice, the fire of creative passion and ambition burned in him. His icy abilities were entirely tied to his emotions. Frostbyte explained at great length the different types of energy bonding within the ghost cores, each one unique in its own way. And sometimes, a half-ghost didn't have to fight someone to release excess energy: Danny found a way to express his emotions and abilities through creating something new or active pursuits. What he enjoyed most was creating ice sculptures and ice skating. There he felt like a fish in water, as if he was meant to be there. He didn't even show his passion for skating to Sam and Tucker. It was something private, something he could express, tell everything and no one would understand.
Listening to the voices that moved from the lab toward the kitchen and later into his parents' bedroom, Danny could only sigh heavily:
"How I wish I was on the ice right now..." - The hope that his parents would remember he existed was lost.
Danny stretched and decided it would be time for him to get ready for bed. His eyes were drooping. The black-haired boy decided to wipe them with his hands again and found the mask on his face. Had he been wearing it all this time?
"Hmm... Perhaps wearing a mask is a matter of habit?"
Heroes always wear masks on their faces to hide their real identities. Phantom has never had to do anything like that. Why try to hide your identity when your character is literally dead? No one has ever thought to match him up with any real person. Except for Wes, of course. But would anyone believe him? Skinny teenage loser Fenton is the local hero who can defeat the Ghost King?
Brushing off the bad thoughts that were already eating away at his brain from the inside out, the teenager finally went to bed. Thankfully, this night had passed without incident or ghostly disturbances: one of those rare occasions when the boy could relax and regain his strength with a full healthy sleep....
.
.
Danny ran across the dark, gloomy rooftops. He jumped from one ledge to the next without any difficulty at all. For some reason, the shadows covered him as if they possessed some kind of intelligence; the teenager was never in the light. His hands wore gloves, the familiar white ones had gotten shorter and did not cover his forearms completely. The white color was spread in irregular patches on his hands and framed by ectoplasmic green inserts. It didn't seem wrong at the time. A large, dark figure landed nearby:
— How was your first mission, Little-Spooks? - The brightest smile, full of a strange pride and happiness that was literally comparable to the sun, lit up the stranger's face. Though there was some strange excitement in his chest at that moment, which said that he knew perfectly well who he was.
A voice sounded on the communicator:
— Wing, turn off the comms, I don't want my ears to wither from your disgusting English. - Wait, he had a communicator? And someone was talking to them. Danny couldn't help but chuckle when the unknown man started cursing at the beaming man. Maybe he seemed familiar to him because of a similar type of humor?
— Ah, you're hurting me in the heart, Hood! - The figure next to him dramatically clutched his chest as if someone had shot him, and the eyes on his domino mask expressed a look of despair and grief.
Another voice, but this time much younger, roughly comparable to Danny's, came over the communicator:
— "Stop this idle chatter. You're behaving in a totally inappropriate manner. -
— Shut up, demon spawn, while B's not here, we can afford to have a little fun. -
— Boys, stop it. You don't want a big daddy-bat to bench you, do you? -
my head couldn't think, but my body was moving on its own, jumping distances. Being in the company of the strange voices and the adult beside him, the halfling felt so calm, as if he were in his own place. Only now did Danny notice how his black hair was developing in a single ray reflecting off the moon.... Black? Why wasn't it white?
And his gloves. They're black, too. And what was black was now white. Even the green inserts of the outfit had changed their color to sky blue. The teenager stared at his own hands:
— Danny? Hey, Little Spooks? Are you all right? Can you hear me? - The blurry face of Nightwing in front of him looked slightly worried and his eyes began to swim. Nightwing? Why hadn't he recognized him before? The image seemed to darken and dissolve into a blur of black, red, blue and other colors. Until the world went white.
— Daniel James Fenton! - was the first thing the teenager heard as his eyelids fluttered open and sunlight hit his eyes. His sleepy head lifted slightly off the bed and a woman dressed in a turquoise jumpsuit came into view:
— Well, I finally got through to you. Your father and I wanted to warn you that you'll be home alone this weekend. Your Aunt Alicia invited us to a party to celebrate the anniversary of her divorce. Have fun and don't forget to clean up the lab! Food in the fridge, there should be a fresh batch of ecto-hotdogs! - When his mom left the room, the boy just dropped his head back on the pillow and covered his face with his hands.
"What a dream. It was terribly real. So much so that it gave me goosebumps, brrrr. " - Danny did feel a slight chill that enveloped his body. The sensation was too faint to activate his ghost sense, though it was enough to touch his icy core. Writing it off as overexcitement from the upcoming events, the boy went to the kitchen to get at least a little something to eat before going to the meeting place with the boys. He should have eaten outside the house, though. That was what the ghost decided when he heard growling and faint barking from the refrigerator.
He had no idea that an old ghost was rubbing the tip of his white beard, watching the flow of time and smiling contentedly:
— Many changes are about to take place in your life, young ghost..... Even faster than you can imagine. -
.
.
So, a small group of teenagers met to begin all the preparations for the realization of their little prank: a sewing machine that Sam had borrowed from Grandma Ida, a set of unwanted clothes, sewing supplies, blueprints, and even a couple of mannequins. (at least in some ways Pamela Manson's parental love of dresses was helpful).
Tucker got them a bunch of pictures from different angles to better appreciate the costumes of the characters and choose the appropriate ones:
— I suggest we start with the Bats. We have a lot of black," Sam commented, omitting the comment that she just wanted to start with gothic:
— I think we take four at a time! With what we have, we can make cool outfit options for Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin. - No one was going to object except Danny, who was a little embarrassed:
— Why are you dressing me up?
— Dude, are you serious? You're the best person for this role. And it's not just because you have black hair. I mean, can any of us jump off rooftops or fight monsters with our fists alone? Besides, after you started practicing with Pandora, your fighting skills have gotten noticeably better. You even started moving like a real ghost! - Foley swung his arms slightly due to a slight emotional outburst. Danny only raised one eyebrow unconvincingly:
— Tucker, I am the real ghost.
— That's not what I meant! You're like a ninja! Or a warrior. I don't know how to explain it. - Sam, who had already picked up a measuring tape, walked over to Danny and started measuring his waist, arms, chest and hip circumference:
— What Tucker means to say is that your movements have become more polished and professional. Even in human form, you're capable of incredible stunts. And don't even think about denying it. I don't like to lose, especially in sports, but I'll admit that you're much better than me now. Be proud, Fenton. The boy got a peck on the cheek. Naturally the teenager couldn't help but blush at the praise. He rarely gets praise for himself. Perhaps that's why he's easily manipulated. Like a faithful puppy, his blue eyes light up and sparkle, and Danny runs off to do whatever he's given:
— Thank you. Okay, I think I know what I'm gonna do. I'm not a good seamstress, so I'm going to try to learn some of the mannerisms and behaviors of the people whose outfits I'm going to try on. - Tucker nodded quickly and looked for the rollers. The boys decided not to distract Sam from her work, but they didn't slack off, either, and began a little practice.
By about four o'clock in the afternoon, the trio gathered on a deserted, decent street to shoot some footage for the cut. Of course, they didn't have weapons like real bats, but they were able to get a few things from the ghost hunting arsenal. To hide the logos and make it look brutal, Sam had painted all the handles black with a can of spray paint. Although the ectoplasmic ends were still green... Danny coated them with a little ice, which made them look more like neon blue concert sticks:
— I think since we brought our batons, we should start with-- Nightwing? Uh-huh. - Danny sighed heavily, took the Fenton batons in both hands, and began twirling them around in his own palms:
— I'm more used to blades. I'd developed two hands after fighting Pandora. Not to say I didn't have options. But when your opponent has four instead of two, it's not a fair advantage. - Having finished manipulating the weapon, it's tucked into the notches on my pants, now hanging down like police batons.
— You're just trying to hide the fact that he's your favorite hero, dude. - honestly? Danny wasn't going to deny Tucker's words. Though Nightwing was actively sharing the spot of favorite vigilante along with the Red Hood! Though perhaps if he met them both, it would be Bludhaven's vigilante who would be more actively approached.
— Come on, boy wonder, or we'll only have time to run around town in one outfit. - The Goth girl grinned, then took a picture of Danny on her Polaroid.
Halfa grabbed the right costume and began to change. Since they weren't copying the design or trying to get as close to the original as possible, they had new variations: Nightwing's outfit was a wide black pant that was tapered at the knees, but didn't stand out much from the rest of the fabric. The pants widened slightly at the bottom and were tucked into high boots that were tied with blue laces. The sole also consisted of this color, being a rather flexible and durable material, convenient for wearing and performing various kinds of tricks. A blue stripe ran along the sides, which resembled a long feather in silhouette. The small waistband was decorated with a logo, which was close-up on the chest: a blue bird. From the sleeves down to the elbows, there were patterns similar to the feathers on the pants, and then interrupted by thick gloves, the palms of which were only colored in the color of the bird. The top itself was a mixture of suit and hoodie having a hood attached to the back. The back also had special notches
for weapons. Tucker hadn't found anything like that on the original suit, so perhaps the vigilantes had used some special technology that just held them in place? Maybe something magnet-based?
The finishing touch was the mask that covered Danny's face. His disheveled hair didn't spoil the full look in the slightest. You could even say he looks like a little replica of the real Wing.
Now that all the preparations were in place, the guys began to shoot the footage they were going to use for the video shoot. It was unlikely that a video with a cosplay copycat would attract much attention, especially in Friendship Park. Rather, it was something like a personal archive. Cosplayers are a wide enough range of people, not to say that their performance would stand out much from the rest. Isn't it?
And so, Danny was performing tricks with weapons, when suddenly, his ghostly sense was activated. The boy immediately stopped and concentrated, switching from entertainment mode to battle mode. Not far away, a small explosion was heard in a nearby area. The trio rushed to the scene and managed to catch a glimpse of Technus robbing a hardware store:
— I am Technus! Master of technology! Your stupid and useless equipment will be used to make a great creation and help me take over the world! - The screams of terrified citizens echoed in the background, causing Halfa to immediately move from his seat and run to help. Tucker, who had been standing there with his camera in hand, pointed it at Danny and realized that he had forgotten to transform into the Phantom. His eyes widened, because his friend was in civilian clothes right now. He wanted to call out to him, but Sam realized immediately and shut Tucker up before he could say anything:
— Quiet! If you yell, we can't explain why Danny Fenton, who's afraid of ghosts, ran headlong into battle. - Actually, the girl was worried too. Sometimes Danny was too forgetful and thoughtless. When it came to helping people, both his core and human heart responded to requests, pleas and cries. His concern for people was sure to ruin him one day.
— Hey, Technus! I think these items are discounted for a reason. Your warranty's almost expired! - Danny suddenly jumped from the roof of a small building right onto the ghost, attacking it with his ice batons. He had gotten used to them enough in the past couple hours to be able to wield them deftly.
The ghostly villain was startled by the sudden attack, he had expected the ghost boy in his typical form, not human. But that was even more interesting. However, the double blow damaged him, causing his newly acquired armor to lose an arm:
— Keep your sarcastic statements to yourself, kid! I am Technus! And tonight, I will prevail! - The electrical cables came to life and of their own accord and began to crawl, wrapping themselves around the assembled armor of junk. Danny reacted immediately, jumping up high, almost over his own height to give himself momentum, and grabbing onto a still-uncircumvented part of the robot to knock it off balance and make it fall.
Sam quickly took the camera away from Tucker and continued filming, then pointed to the panel they needed to connect to in order to disable Technus.
Foley immediately joined the ghost's system to hack it. The cheap old tech turned into a pile of metal in seconds, and the spirit flew out of him:
— This is not the end, child! I am Technus and I-- - The tirade was interrupted by a bright beam that burst from the thermos in the Halfa's hands:
— Sorry, but I would argue with that statement! - And so, the battle was over. The people who had managed to hide began to come out of their hiding places. Danny folded his arms around his waist and surveyed the damage:
— "Well, I hope the insurance pays for it... - when suddenly he heard a whisper behind him.
Nightwing?
What's he doing in town?
Did the Justice League return our calls?
Did he get a new outfit?
He defeated a ghost!
I thought Nightwing was supposed to be older.
What were all these people talking about? Danny took a full look at himself and realized. He'd forgotten to transform. His face immediately turned pale and he touched his hands to his face at the realization that all this time he, Danny Fen... Stop. The mask. The stupid carnival mask that was covering his face! Oh, my God. He didn't think a crappy piece of polymer and plastic glue would save him from total ruin. To keep people from asking more questions, he waved quickly and hurried away into the nearest alley, where he immediately became invisible and intangible to evade prying eyes.
.
.
.
— What were you thinking? What if your mask had come off during the fight? - Sam paced in front of Danny, angrily reprimanding her friend for such a transgression. Halfa could only drop his sad eyes to the floor and rub the back of his head, showing that he was ashamed of what had happened:
— I'm sorry, guys. You know that when I feel the need for help, I mentally going ghost and dive headfirst into it. -
— Well, at least we got some good footage. We're gonna get some pretty good footage out of this. For the personal archive, of course! - Tucker saved the footage on his computer in a secret folder that could only be accessed through their special ecto-network cables.
— We still have a few hours to finish filming today. We've got to use up the costumes. Go get changed, boy wonder. This is your punishment," Sam shoved a Red Riding Hood-style outfit into the ghost's hands and sent him into the locker room. It was a hard day indeed.
Filming was over by about nine o'clock at night. Tucker promised to edit all the footage and post the video on social media the same day, tagged with: #Amity_Park #Gotham #vigilantes #BatFashion #Cosplay_Adaptation.
After watching a few more shots of today's fights during editing, Foley Jr. cut out his and Sam's dialog just in case, suppressed some background noise, and corrected the twitching image of Danny-Wing's real fight with Technus. Satisfied with the result, he saved the snippet as a separate file, then spliced the main video together and put it online. After stretching his fingers and stretching his neck, the teenager went to bed.
Except Tucker forgot to cut out the edited portion of the fight at the end of the video.....
.
.
In the morning, Danny was awakened by his phone literally bursting with messages. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, the teenager stared at the phone screen:
TecnoGeek: We seem to have a problem...
Chaos: Ohhh, no, Tucker Foley. You're in trouble.
TecnoGeek: But it's not my fault it got knocked up in the recommendations!
GhostBoy: Guys? What's the matter?
Chaos: *link to video*
Chaos: Check it out.
GhostBoy: . . . .
GhostBoy: We have a problem.
