Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Sooooo…..” the kid says, dropping the chair on the Joker and clapping his hands together as if dusting them off. 

Batman should probably check to see if Joker is in need of medical attention— the answer is almost certainly yes as hard as that hit had looked— but he’s pretty stuck on just what is happening at the moment, because he doesn’t understand it and desperately needs to. 

“Fuckin’ clowns, am I right? Just the worst,” the kid continues, spreading his arms as if inviting a reaction or agreement. He’s disturbingly casual in tone and body language, and either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that his legs are hazy and shifting around almost to look like a tail. 

Nightwing swallows, he and Red Robin having stepped out of hiding. “They sure are,” he says, probably also aiming for casual but missing the mark by a fair margin. 

The boy grins at Nightwing, then appears to notice that Robin is still in his own glass container. “Oh, sorry, let me get you out of there!” Swooping through the air easily, one arm goes more transparent, color dissipating, as the boy sticks it through the glass. As the boy’s hand grasps Robin’s arm, Robin also turning transparent and colorless. Batman’s heart is in his throat as the boy drags Robin through the glass and then lets go, the intangibility fading. It’s not like Batman has never seen the power used before, he knows J’onn, but the ease at which this just-killed child uses it is chilling. 

Actually, the room is colder than it was, noticeably so. The part of Batman’s mind that isn’t an emotional mess (which is most of it, he has discipline after all and this isn’t the worst or strangest thing he’s ever seen) wonders if there’s a way to scientifically measure or differentiate the ‘chill of death’ from normal atmospheric temperature changes. Red Robin will probably look into it later, if he knows him.

“There, that’s better!” the boy chirps, looking satisfied. “Anyways, I was wondering,” and here he looks at each of them in turn— “do any of you know how to get to the Ghost Zone?” The way he says it makes it clear it’s a proper noun, capitalization necessary. At the same time, it’s not a desperate-sounding request; the boy seems a bit sheepish, if anything. 

“The Ghost Zone?” Red Robin asks. 

“Yeah!” The boy is very animated for someone who’s dead. A ghost, to be exact, possibly trying to move on without a fuss? Like he hadn’t just goaded the Joker into killing him? The tonal shift is giving Batman a headache. “Otherwise known as the Infinite Realms, but that doesn’t roll off the tongue very easily.” 

Nightwing looks like he might have a similar headache. “So… that’s where uh, ghosts go after they die?” he asks delicately. “Do you need help moving on?” 

The boy is still hovering, expression perfectly at ease. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good after clobbering the clown, but I am hungry. Does anywhere around here sell taquitos?”

It seems strange that a ghost would eat human food, but then again there are many cultures across the world that leave offerings of food at graves. Will this dingy warehouse count as the boy’s grave, since there’s nothing left to bury? “We can get you some taquitos, if that would help. What’s your name?” 

The boy’s smile is so, so bright. “I’m Danny! Hey, ghosts aren’t illegal here, right?”

“I can double check if you like?” Red Robin offers, although Oracle is probably already on it. “That seems unlikely.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” 

—————

Thankfully, ghosts are not illegal, so Batman instructs Nightwing and Red Robin to wrap things up at the warehouse and hand over the Joker to emergency services. After, they’ll meet back up in an alleyway near the 24-hour corner shop that carries the best taquitos in this part of town. Batman can admit to himself that this division of labor is based on his relief to see Robin unharmed, and judging by the level of scowling, Robin is probably aware of this. 

Danny seems completely content to float a few inches off the ground and follow them, looking at the Batmobile with interest but not as if it’s particularly special. He does hang back as Batman buys the taquitos though, and when the food is handed to him, sighs happily. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Danny says. “Although it’s a little weird to eat human food looking like a ghost. Let me just-“ A ring of silver light appears around his stomach, separating into two rings that seem to turn Danny back into what he looked like as a human. He lands lightly on the ground and starts eating. 

Batman is staring, but it’s Robin who asks, “Are all ghosts able to change their form like that?”

Danny shrugs noncommittally. “Most ghosts above a certain power level can change their shape to some extent. It’s usually based on emotions and self-conception.”

How does Danny know that, if he just died? It doesn’t sound like it’s simply instinctual knowledge among the dead or something like that. Batman has so many questions, but doesn’t want to overwhelm the kid or upset him. Why isn’t Danny upset about dying? It’s almost suspicious. Finally, several taquitos later, he asks, “I hope it isn’t too rude to ask, but I’ve seen people die before and not create visible ghosts. Do you know why you’re different?” 

Danny’s cheerfulness finally fades a bit. “Well, only the worst kind of deaths tend to create ghosts. It also has to do with the amount of ambient ectoplasm. Gotham seems to have a fair amount, actually.”

“How do you know so much about ghosts?” asks Robin, who is openly suspicious. 

“My parents are ghost hunting scientists,” Danny says. “I’ve picked up a lot over the years. I am glad to be here in Gotham though, them trying to shoot me with a bazooka would be a total pain.” 

Oh, Batman doesn’t like the sound of that. If ambient ectoplasm (whatever that substance actually is) influences the creation of ghosts, then Danny’s parents could be responsible for him becoming a ghost, whether knowingly or not. At best, it’s negligence, and at worst— well, Danny mentioned a bazooka, so it could be pretty bad. 

“So you don’t want your family to be notified?” Batman asks. 

Danny shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I left a USB drive under my bed for them to find if I don’t make it home.” The fact that this was a concern that Danny had planned ahead for was a very bad sign. Batman is absolutely going to be checking in on this family regardless of what happens. 

“Nothing is coming up via facial recognition so far, in Illinois or otherwise,” Oracle says over the comms. “Also, the Joker made it to the hospital and they suspect he may have brain damage. Kid might not know his own strength.” 

As much as he hates working with the man, Batman has already sent a message to John Constantine. Hopefully he’ll have more information on ghosts and the so-called Ghost Zone. Until then, they can take Danny to a safehouse and keep an eye on him there. Batman is about to suggest the move when a cloud of mist comes out of Danny’s mouth, like an exhale in cold weather. 

“Ah, crud, there’s another ghost around here somewhere,” Danny groans, and shoves the last taquito in his mouth as he looks about. 

“Do you know how close?” Robin asks, hand on the hilt of his sword. 

Danny floats up off the ground, still looking around warily. “Half mile, tops. I don’t think this is their normal haunt, though.” Again, the two rings of light appear around his middle and transform him, now back to his ghostly form. 

Batman hears Oracle in his ears again. “Red Hood finally turned his comms back on and is asking me if I have any info on an intangible enemy that looks like a robot with a flaming green mohawk. It’s currently chasing him.” 

“Reroute Nightwing, Red Robin, and Orphan to try and surround it, we’re on our way,” Batman replies. 

Danny raises his eyebrows. “Your person in the chair found it already, huh? That’s convenient, lead the way!”

“We’re not taking an untrained civilian to fight,” Robin says flatly. “Stay here, we can come back for you after.” 

Danny snorts. “I’m already a ghost, what do you think is gonna happen to me? I'll die again? I’ll see ya there.” He disappears from view, and Batman can’t even sense a cold spot anymore. 

—————

Red Hood is having a weird day. For several hours now, the raging pits that are never far from gripping his very soul in their angry grasp have been… resonating. Not in the green vision, blacking out and committing terrible violence way, but in a more neutral and anticipatory way. 

It’s driving him up the wall. 

What are the pits reacting to, or waiting for? Even an attempt to meditate (yes, he knows how, it’s not like he enjoys going into mindless rages so he’s tried it before) has gotten him nowhere. 

After instructing his lieutenants to cover his territory, Red Hood has been trying different directions to see if he can home in on whatever sort of signal he’s getting. What if the feeling means there’s another Lazarus pit forming nearby? And if there is one, does that mean the League of Assassins is trying to infiltrate Gotham? Not on his fucking watch. 

He’d thought he was getting closer for a half hour or so but then the feeling had moved farther away again. A moving target perhaps? Ugh, maybe it’d be worth turning his comms back on even if the inane chatter destroyed his ability to concentrate. Oracle, at least, should have something for him. 

There’s a prickle of the back of his neck that has him swerving his motorcycle before conscious thought can register. A blast of some sort of energy weapon hits the pavement where he had been as loud laughter fills the air— Red Hood looks in his rearview mirror to see a glowing shape appearing behind him. 

“What luck! Another rare specimen to add to my collection, and one that will be enjoyable to hunt! You’re not going to make it too easy for me, are you?” the creature proclaims, pointing some kind of wrist-mounted laser at him. 

Red Hood grounds his teeth. Although the being feels odd, it’s not what he’s been looking for. He doesn’t have time for this bullshit, so he turns his comm back on for Oracle’s channel only. “Hey O, you got a sec?” 

“Nice of you to answer any of our calls,” Oracle says, sounding more annoyed with him than usual. “I know you said you were busy, but-“ 

Red Hood swerves around a corner and shoots back at the being, grimacing as the bullets sail through like he’s shooting through a ghost. “Oh, just a little,” he snarls into his helmet. 

“You can’t escape me, for I am Skulker, the ultimate hunter!” 

Oracle is silent for a moment— no doubt she’s accessed his helmet’s camera now and can see his ridiculous glowing attacker. “Something strange seems to be going on tonight,” she finally says. “Lead this Skulker guy north, we might need magic to fight him and we have a safehouse with supplies in that direction.”

“Fine,” Red Hood bites out, tires screeching against the pavement as he makes a tight turn. “Keep me updated.”

—————

The theory that Skulker is a ghost has not stopped him from being the most annoying fight that Red Hood can currently recall. Skulker’s gun took out the back tire of his bike, so Red Hood is dodging like crazy and trying to get in closer. If physical weapons don’t work, maybe a taser? He’s honestly running low on options, which is unfortunate because if his family has to rescue him, he’ll be hearing about it for months. 

“I have you cornered now,” Skulker laughs, readying his net gun. “Soon, I’ll have your pelt on my wall!” 

“Really, Skulker? I’m busy for like an hour and you find someone else to hunt? I thought we had something special!” 

Red Hood watches in surprise as another glowing figure floats down from the sky, putting themselves between Red Hood and Skulker. This figure is much smaller, though, like a wiry teen— a wiry teen radiating as much sassy disappointment as the time Stephanie had informed Bruce he missed her birthday.

Skulker unfortunately looks extremely pleased. “Phantom, here for more fun? This revenant isn’t putting up much of a fight.”

Phantom (if that is his name) glances back at Red Hood, looking a bit surprised, but rolls his eyes at Skulker. “Two choices, man, either you go start peacefully looking for a portal to the Ghost Zone or you get soup time. What’ll it be?” 

“Like you can make me!” Skulker yells, and chaos breaks out. The bats and birds are starting to arrive, Red Robin with a bag that he opens to reveal candles and other magic shit. As he starts to draw some sort of circle, Red Hood gets out of the corner he’d been in and races up the nearest fire escape. Skulker and that Phantom kid may be flying around chasing each other, but that’s not gonna stop Red Hood from punching Skulker in the face. 

“Heads up Red Hood, the kid is a ghost with unknown strength levels, although he’s been friendly to us so far,” Nightwing says as he swings past. 

The ghost kid is firing green blasts that look as powerful as Starfire’s starbolts, but Red Hood’s gut is roiling with the weirdest mixture of relief and exhaustion. He feels safe in a way that should be triggering paranoia and absolutely isn’t. 

Although none of the vigilantes have yet to land a hit on Skulker, Phantom keeps the hunter well-occupied, flying fast and making sure to keep the others out of the crossfire. It speaks to experience, which makes sense with their earlier comments. It’s not long before Phantom has knocked Skulker into the ground and covered him with ice so he can’t move. (How many powers do ghosts have? Seems like a lot.) 

“It seems that you’ve chosen soup time,” Phantom says. His tone is stern but there’s a grin on his face as he sticks a hand inside his own chest and pulls out a large thermos. Is he… is he giving Skulker soup? Is this some sort of ghost punishment?

A beam of light comes out of the uncapped thermos, sucking Skulker in, and Phantom shoves the lid back on. “No need to worry about him anymore. Is everyone OK?”

Red Hood really feels like he should be angry right now, green haze at the edges of his vision. The others are moving away quietly, probably recognizing his struggle to breathe normally, but it’s not rage choking his lungs right now,  it’s not rage at all. It’s something he hasn’t felt in years. 

—————

Even after the hunter ghost has been defeated, Red Robin continues working on the summoning circle. It’s actually supposed to summon the nearest powerful magic entity to the circle like a magnet and trap it there, but at this point Red Robin absolutely does not trust this kid Danny. His eyes and energy blasts are precisely the garish green glow as the Lazarus Pits, a comparison that’s easy to see as Red Hood’s eyes are glowing clearly through his helmet. 

“Hey kid, you might want to back away from Red Hood, when he gets glowy like that, he tends to go in a violent rage…” Nightwing says quietly, motioning for Danny to back up. Orphan is swinging over to Red Hood’s fire escape, hands up to show her non-aggression, and thankfully Hood hasn’t objected yet. She’s the one that seems to annoy Hood the least and if he does pull a gun she should be able to disarm him quickly. 

Danny blinks, posture casual as he floats in midair, and turns to study Hood. “He’s not angry,” the ghost says after a moment. “He’s- damn, dude, what’s with your ectoplasm? It’s really nasty.”

“Ectoplasm?” Batman cuts in. 

“You know, the glowing green stuff,” Danny says casually, drifting closer to Hood even as half the vigilantes stiffen in alarm. 

Hood stares at Danny. “What do you know about the Lazarus Pits?” Hood asks, and it’s not the low growl Red Robin expects. 

Danny tilts his head. “Lazarus Pits? I have no idea what those are, but as someone who’s died, I can usually sense when others have too. Are you OK though? Seems like your resurrection did not go super smoothly.” 

“You can say that again,” Hood says, choking on a strangled laugh. This is absolutely not his typical behavior— Red Robin can hardly believe he hasn’t attacked Danny yet for bringing this up. Is this some type of hypnosis? There’s no way Danny is just a random ghost kid. 

“Would you like some help with that?” Danny asks, sounding perfectly nice and honest. “Seems like you’ve got like, extra emotions imprinted in there that aren’t your own. I think I can filter some of that out.” 

This is absolutely a trick. The fact that Hood is stepping forward to meet Danny instead of warning him off with weapons (or outright attacking) basically proves it, he has no reason to trust Danny. Even though Danny got rid of the other ghost, who’s to say they didn’t arrive together and set things up so Danny seemed more trustworthy? They certainly seemed familiar with each other. 

Orphan is watching carefully, but on the side that Danny can’t see, she’s signing honest, wait, and trust to the other Bats. Danny being dead must be throwing her off, as much as they’d all usually trust her judgment. Even Oracle has gone silent, although Red Robin is sure she’s also pulling up everything she can find on ectoplasm. 

The quiet is taut, a narrow thread holding everyone in place as Danny comes within arm’s length of Red Hood. Finally, Hood nods, taking off his helmet so he’s only wearing his domino mask. “If you can… then yeah. Please.”

Surely Red Robin is not the only one flabbergasted by Hood saying please but there’s no time to process it as Danny shoves both his hands inside of Hood’s chest. Batman takes a sharp intake of breath, moving half a step forward, then looks to Red Robin and the circle. Red Robin nods— he’s ready to activate it at any time. 

After the longest minute, Danny pulls his hands back, clutching globs of goo that are a darker and more sickly green than the Lazarus Pits. The goo is also moving, even as Danny is trying to push it together into one ball. Red Hood stumbles back, letting Orphan steady him, and points at the goo. “That’s what was inside me?” he asks, his eyes wide and no longer green. He looks nauseous. 

“Yeah dude, super nasty, I bet you’ve felt like shit with this in you,” Danny says, pulling the thermos out of his chest again and sucking up the goo. “I would recommend staying away from wherever you got it.” 

Red Hood exhales, sitting down on the fire escape and putting his head in his hands. “Yeah, definitely planning on avoiding a repeat performance.” Orphan rubs his back but flashes the rest of them a thumbs up. 

“You didn’t just die today,” Red Robin accuses, no longer able to hold himself back. “Who are you really?”

Danny turns back towards Red Robin, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I died when I was fourteen, but I’m still just a guy named Danny. I was fighting Skulker and accidentally ended up in Gotham, it’s not my usual haunt.” 

“We should take this to a more secure location,” Batman says tightly. “Hood, you should get checked over by a medical professional.” 

Red Hood looks up, and his expression is more relaxed than they’ve ever seen since the resurrection. “Fuck no, B, are you kidding me? I’m sticking with the guy who made the Pits go away.”