Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As rain falls softly whispering a sweet lullaby, streetlamps flicker illuminating two small figures roaming late at night in alleyways that have seen better days. Run down buildings covered in cracks and damaged windows. Trash cans had been knocked over covering the ground. Sounds of sirens echoho from a distance bouncing off buildings. The two small figures run together holding hands, their clothes darkened by raindrops falling on them. Splish, splash sounds heard when they sprint, their wet feet touch forcefully on the alleyways damp ground.

The smaller of them with long black hair. A boy with ice-coloured eyes wearing seemingly haggard secondhand clothes to big for his small frame slips, falling to the ground huffing and puffing nearly out breath.
The bigger one a girl with fiery orange hair looks down on the boy with her aquamarine gaze. She gets closer to the boy and helps him up she too was nearly out of breath, exhausted from all the running but she cannot for a second let them slow down. Fear is present in her face when helping the boy stand up again. “We need to keep going” her voice sounds tired and almost cracking the boy just nods as they keep on running. They both keep themselves running in shadows as much as they possibly can, not wanting to be seen by anyone.
They came across an old building. Broken windows, parts of the building destroyed leaving big holes.
Black and yellow police tape everywhere. A gigantic sign had fallen down with the words Fenton works that would have been lit up once upon a time. They both push aside the tape, rushing inside still running away from someone or something. Inside was just as messy.
A couch had plenty of holes showing metal springs. A family photo laid down on the floor with broken glass of the boy and girl together with two adults one big man in an orange hazmat suit and a woman in a teal hazmat suit.
Everything else in this house had been destroyed in one way or another. The older girl takes charge as they run downstairs to an old lab lit up by a greenish light. That source of light comes from a standing ring holding up a pool of green. One could see relief wash over on both kids faces, the boy forcing himself not to cry “just a little bit more” his voice sounds hopeful and even a bit glad.
They both approach the ring of green. They are almost able to touch it before men in white armed with weapons storm down, shooting at them. The girl uses herself as shield sheltering the smaller boy. Time and time again those men shot without hesitation at her but she does not waver cause if she did then the boy will be shot. The boy screams tears flowing down his cheeks begging the men to stop but they don’t they keep on shooting. “JAZZ NOO!!, NOOT YOU TOO!!” His screams filled with such anguish and sorrow Jazz smiled at him.

“Live, I love you Danny pu” is the last she says before throwing Danny into the pool of green. Danny sees Jazz smile as she holds onto a metal box with a red button pressing it. It took only seconds before he sees a last glimpse of Jazz as she and everything around her is engulfed by a blinding light and a wave of raw power pushs him further back.
As waves push him, Danny finds himself in floating in an endless existence of black and green. Small Purple islands float ever so slowly changing their direction. Countless doors of many shapes and size’s drift far apart from each door never being near another door. Danny quickly looks for where he came from, a swirl of green remaining before disappearing. His hand reaches out to where the pool of green had been, starting to shake, feeling a numbing sensation spreading through every part of himself, widening his pupils.
He could no longer keep his posture straight. He sunk in, cradling himself, a cry built up over a long time in his stomach. Screaming, there is no end to his screaming. A feeling of tiredness washed over him, “I want them BACK!!” His face has traces of regrets, his voice breaking into high falsetto. A sudden pounding pain hits his head, he feels dizzy as his mind crumbles in thousand thoughts. Everything turns dark as his eyes close. Waves of green energy embrace him, comforting him, protecting him from the outside of its bubble form. Drifting away to an unknown destination.

Loud noises of cars honking ring in the raven-haired boy’s ears, the stench of fowl smells forces itself through his nostrils.
He slowly opens his eyes. His long black locks cover his sight.
Movements of people flash before him none giving him a glance, just ignoring him. The boy finds himself in an alleyway. Old gothic architecture buildings stand tall. He is cowering near a container filled to the brim with trash. His clothes feel damp and icky. He looks at his feet finding his only pair of sneakers gone. Somebody must have stolen them while he was unconscious. Pain rushes through his thin body. He screams out in pain.
Even now, people ignore him. They just keep their distance avoiding the boy as some kind of sickness.
”Ttch junkies” he hears voices whispering. He didn’t really care for what they thought about him, he just wants to get rid of the pain. He tries to stand up but missteps falling forward onto the cold ground, his body unsteady shaking out of pain, out of sorrow.
Tears falls down his cheeks, biting his lips trying to snap out of it. Everything in his body is feels wrong. So very wrong. It was as if he has reversed back to that scared little boy that was held captive by the guys in white. He misses his family; he wants to be with them. It is impossible he knows that so well to his very core. Nothing can change it.
What seems an eternity of grief is actually, in reality, just few minutes. Danny can’t pull himself up or rather has no will to do so. He has lost everything he cared about his friends, his parents and his beloved sister.

“Why am I still alive!!!” he screams, angry at himself for being alive when they are not. He bangs his head against the cold hard ground clenching his fists. The only thing keeping him alive is his sisters last words saying that he should ’live’ in her sweet loving voice.

“DAMN IT ALL!!” Danny had to pull himself together he just had to.
Scrambling sound of a trashcan being knocked down. A deep scream of pain heard. Even though Danny’s body aches he rises to his feet barely standing. Breathing heavily. Rest, he needs a place to rest.
Danny walks deeper in, desperately searching after an area where he can feel safe. Supporting himself by using walls as a crutch.
There are women who dress lightly even though it is chilly outside, standing in shadows. Those women either disappear with men or chat with passing by people. Tired eyes and almost to much makeup. There are also people who hunched down sniffing this white substance. Losing themselves, their expressions becoming loosen leaving a feeling of emptiness.
This place is nothing like Amity Park are his thoughts. Looking around seeing his surroundings left in a bad state in need of repairs. Buildings that could fall apart any moment or streetlights going on and off each time with flickering delay.
He felt that at any moment someone would jump on him when he was in this state.
He is an easy prey.

Burning hot, Danny tries to ignore the burning sensation boiling rising within him, sweating profoundly. His heart rate raising, body aching and a fear that is engulfing his very being.

He hears voices than a striking pain in his head and once again he is back to the GIW’s laboratory strapped down to an operating table. Groggy from the anaesthetics they gave him. they cut into his body and took pieces of him. Even if said pieces were taken away he would heal up just fine, even if they took apart his body parts would reattach themselves together. No mater how many times they open him up there’s no outward scars but the pain always remains. To them he wasn’t even human only a thing only to be experimented on never considering how much he was in pain.
A gentle but rough voice brought Danny’s mind back. His sight is blurry all he can make out is a man with a big build is holding him in his arms. The unknown man speaks againn, “hey KID!! Don’t sleep!!” with worry in his voice. there’s a touch on Danny’s cheeks. Familiar that’s how the man’s touch on his cheeks feels it was as if his father were consoling him, holding him in a hug. Danny took what seemingly touches his bony cheeks holds it not with strength but tender love. Smiling faintly, “dad, I missed you” is all he could muster before his eyelids feel heavy and Danny drifts back to sleep.

Danny wakes up by the sounds of sparks.
An old man holds a frying pan made up out of two twigs in between those twigs is a bean can all staying in place using shoestrings over a rusty dumpster lit up on fire. Years of outdoor exposure have not shown their kind favours. Dry and cracked skin, untameable silver beard that once was vibrant. There’s an attempt at braiding his long unruly hair but ends up crooked. The old man wears layers of ragged long coats on top one another.
Danny looked around to understand where he was. He finds himself in what seems in a subway station. There are others like the old man dressed in multiple layers of clothing. The people have a rough demeaner armed with sharp glare. The subway station seems to be falling apart. Signs destroyed by graffiti. Vending machines smashed to pieces.

Small living quarters of cardboards or planks with little space for dirty mattresses house about four or five people. Danny while observing this fails to notice the old man stare at the young halfa with sad and tired emerald green eyes. His body shivers from feeling his still damp clothes but Danny is quickly wrapped up in a makeshift blanket by a brown-haired woman. She too has had tough years behind her tired expression, showing darkened rings under her hazel eyes.
”Kid are you hungry? I am making bean soup” Danny finds the old man familiar even hunchedd down a little over the fire he is large. A grumbling from the boy’s stomach answers the old man question. He hasn’t eaten he has no idea since when but unlike humans Danny doesn’t need a lot of food being half dead had their perks and cons.

The old man smiled bitterly, “me and Rosé found you out cold, good thing we did or would had died of high fever in the cold night” he hands over a paper mug filled bean soup. The brunettee woman nods to strengthen his statement. Danny takes the paper mug with both hands feeling warmth in his hands.
With an almost silent “thank you” Danny puts his mug against his lips to drink. The old man is about to say “that’s hot be..” when he decides not to speak further when Danny with ease gulps it up as if it was a regular glass of water. The man shakes his head.

For a long time, there’s silence between them three. It is other people that break into discussion bickering over what consist of the mundane life of homeless people.
”I am not going to pry on your life but if there’s a place you could be, then be there, the streets is not kind to kids” the old man walks over to Danny then sits beside him making sure there’s a distance between them. There’s no chance for Danny to ever return home and what would the point be when everyone he loves and cares about is gone. He couldn’t go to one of those shelters with the risk of either being exposed to the GIW or sent to some foster care. He shakes to say no. They look even sadder now than before.
“your welcome to stay, I’m Augustus Brooks but most call me Old Gus and this is Rosé Park” the old man points to himself and the brunette.
Insecure on how to react he contemplated if he should tell them his name and if it was a good thing. So he just said “Danny” Augustus and Rosé didn’t dig further just nod. They don’t seem like bad people. He feels safe. For now.

For the past three days Danny got to experience how the homeless take care of each other sharing what little scraps of food they have. They had their own little system. The youngest ones are around five or three are taken care of by two adults and a highly pregnant woman in her mid twenties named Annie. While the majority go up ground, trying their best to earn their share. The oldest kids help with chores and the younger kids.

The sick bay where he awoke in was rather in fact wooden pallets with the cleanest sets of mattresses. Rosé and Old Gus do their best to both give him much needed care and space.
Rosé was an old nurse who lost not only her job but also her family to her alcoholic tendency, but she is struggling to redeem herself. It’s a good thing that old man Gus is there to help her, grounding her.
Old man Gus was homeless by choice, once upon a time being a defence attorney but was fed up with all the cruelty of fellow lawyers quitting his job.
Danny was given new warm clothes in many layers and would repay by helping out with the kids and help Rosé taking care of those sick or hurt.

Danny was using his own experience to fix himself. Even if he does have enhanced healing there were still things that would take time and hurt like hell.
In the afternoon Rosé teaches him things he didn’t know about medical treatments while old Gus shares food with them. They have all been nice to Danny. Yet Danny never spoke about himself. Fearing the worst.
There are times when Danny needs to alone, so he walks away without telling anyone and though the rest of the homeless care for him they just believe it is his own choice if he wants to open up.

It has already been two months since Danny had come to what he now knows as Gotham. He has stayed unnoticeable in the shadows. Never wanting attention on himself.
Annie was soon to give birth. Everyone is happy for her and are preparing what little things they can manage to give her baby. Sure, their environment is not ideal for giving birth but everyone works hard to make the station a family friendly home. Rosé does daily check-ups on her and the baby’s well being. Annie allowed Danny to place his hand on her bulging stomach to feeling the small kicks. Danny has always wanted to have a younger sibling but his parents never considered to have more than two kids.
It makes him sad thinking about his family. They are gone. He misses them so badly. Both Rosé and Annie console him with a hug and sweet words when he starts to cry.

Danny has made a hobby of making wooden figurines of heroes. He isn’t that good at it. But training takes practice. He will sometimes give the younger kids whatever hero they like as long he has a picture of that said hero.
The kids would play, pretend they were heroes with his wood figurines. Danny made a plan to sell his figurines to raise money for Annie. Old Gus helps him gather everything he created that wasn’t given away. They set up a blanket with all the wooden hero figurines on the busiest street to get attention. Danny is nervous. He no longer feels at ease among big crowds. Panicking, slightly forgetting to breath at all.

“Danny it’s okay” Old Gus’s calm rough but supporting authoritarian voice helps Danny focus. Relaxing a bit. Helps him breath. It also helps that old Gus keeps him company.
The Gothamites, which is a name for those who live in Gotham, ignore them both as if they don’t exist. The people of Gotham always have distrusting eyes and twitch their body at anything as if ready to jump. These humans are so very unlike the people he has come to know who reside in the station.

After a time of silence “Old Gus do you think it is boy or a girl?” Danny wonders what it would be and Old Gus smiled gently “Rosé believes it is a girl, Little Annie have already decided for a name” He wants to ask further and is even about to ask what name it would be when a young man in his mid twenty’s interrupts with his presence.

The man crouches down. His eyes hidden by sunglasses. Raven black hair like Danny’s but with a white streak. A red hoddie and a leather jacket over it, jeans with intended holes. He slouches over pointing towards the figurine Danny is most proud of, that of Red Hood.

“How much for that one?” the man asks as if laughing at some kind of inside joke. Hesitant Danny looks over to Old Gus not knowing what to say. Gus only nods and gently places a Hand over Danny’s shoulders.
“that’s the one I’m most proud of so twenty bucks” he says unsure of the man’s reaction to the price. The man whistle “wow that’s expensive for a murderous druglord” Danny frowns at that statement sure red hood has killed and was sometimes too brutal but among his found siblings he is a hero that protects the weak in the worst parts of Gotham. Danny doesn’t approve of Red Hood’s ways, but he still respects his efforts.

“take that back!!, I respect his deeds and He is a hero my younger siblings adore” Danny stops himself in his tracks since when had he considered them his siblings. Had he unconsciously thought of them all as family. Danny smiles bitterly to himself. it’s as if he has replaced his own family with Rosé, Annie, Old Gus and other homeless. He didn’t want to forget his family’s love. But he doesn’t want to exclude this newfound family.
“sorry kiddo” the man sounds apologetic but mostly smug. He pick out money out of his wallet reaching them towards Danny
“buckle up cause the prize rose to 45 bucks” Danny wasn’t gonna let this man insult his siblings hero so easy.
The big built man laughs out loud “you got spunk kid!! we say fifty and you throw in rest of the bats” Danny thinks for the moment and says “deal” the exchanged happens smoothly saying their goodbyes. Old man Gus laughs and praises Danny’s haggling ability. Ruffing Danny’s hair. Rest of the day was uneventful up until walking home to their station. Having earned total fifty bucks.
Walking down those very old streets with Gus. Danny was happy. He was going to give Annie those well-earned money.

☆~~~~~~~~~~~☆

Jason looked over the wooden mini figurine of Red Hood. It isn’t that good. There are clear mistakes made by an amateur. Clumsy but many on point details. Like you can take off the helmet and under it is a mask on the face.
Never would he have thought he would hear someone defend him so fiercely. The boy practically fumed with anger. He wasn’t just that very threatening with big light blue puppy eyes. He was just too small and frail looking.
It was so funny it was as if staring at a little chihuahua barking. It had made Jason laugh. As the sun sets down He watches over the boy and the old man pack up their things from an distance hidden away on a rooftop.

A clear voice rings in his ears “Hood do you read me?”
“PISS OF!! boy wonder!! I’m busy!!” “Well, ain’t you a joy bird today” Jason grunts in frustration “what does the old fossil want”
It get quiet a second before the same voice speaks up again.

“Croc broke out of Arkham again and is last seen in your area”

Chapter Text

At dinner everyone gets together sharing food and stories of how there day had been. The loving couple mr and mrs Potts had gone to one of those soup kitchens near the police station and smuggled out cupcakes for the kids.

Raine had gone rat hunting and catched at least eight rats wich he later burned up so those darn rats wouldn’t eat what little food they had saved up.
Rosé had treated Charlie after that he had gotten one of his own fishing hooks stuck into his thumb. She laughed at him for how he a full grown man whimpered before she had even done anything. It was fun hearing all the stories.

Danny gave Annie what he had earned by selling his wood figurines. She was at first very hesitant but with a little bit convincing from the others she took it and hugged him.

One of the girls braided Danny’s hair in a mermaid braid saying that his hair looks better tied up. He did not mind it. It was actually getting in his way.

Old Gus stepped in when Reine and Mr Potts argue about who d cheated in a game of cards. It became a bit physical but Old Gus managed to separate those two. He gave them both a lecture on how to behave.

Danny smiled.

Everyone laughed and even if they were tired they still keep up the happy atmosphere until they went to bed.
At night the air is colder than usual. The residents of Strand Station sleep with several layers of old clothes and blankets in an attempt to keep themselves warm. Some shuddered.

Others nested closer together with the person closest to them. they used newspapers as lining, it helped but not by much.

Laid down in there shared living space. Rosé and Old Gus sleeps heavily. But unlike them Danny is unable to sleep.

He stared up to what once was filled with brightly colour images depicting of children singing and dancing on the ceiling.

It’s vibrant colours have grown dimm by years of exposure. Now the tiles have been falling off one after another and its liveliness is long gone over taken by mold.

Danny sighs. Thoughts have been flooding over him as if a dam is bursting out of it’s foundations thru cracks. What is the point of it all? why even try? Where they truly gone? Or if he could have done something diffrently? If something wasn’t supousedly to be than clockwork would had stept in right, right!?.
”It's all my fault” danny wispers.

Oow how he wishes, he could travel back in time but he knows the consequences of messing around with something so fragile. The results are unpredictable.
Danny sat up not wanting to lay down anymore.
He needs to occupy his thoughts with something else. He took out a wooded plank. He checked it’s density. making sure the volume and mass was right.
A little moist could ruin every thing.

Danny found his chisels of variouse size’s. He had dumpster dived behind an hardware store for. They had frown them away becuse of the damaged handles but with a little ducktape anything can be fixed. Something he learned from his father.

He started to carve. Slowly the chunky plank of wood took shape. He had carved out five figures standing together and behind them an octigon like shape. For the moment they are unfinished, in need of details.
One bulky square shaped figure next to it a a bit shorter and curvy one and three smaller ones. He studied it.

”Danny your awake!?! Did you have a nightmare ??! ” startled he almost dropped both his chisel and the wood panel. It was Rosé she had woken up. Hazel colored eyes stared at him.

Her thin lips grew to a worried smile. Danny looked away not wanting to see her how she would obtained even more set of wrinkles from worrying about him.
”whats that your making??” She asked as she leaned in next him. Too close for his comfort. Danny shrugged his shoulders than he feelt a gental hand on his head stroking his hair.

Patting him.

It was either by shock or fear maybe a mix of both Danny pushed away her hand forcefully. He did not know what to feel when he saw Rosé's face turn awkwardly painful as he had rejected her.

He picked up his things into a makeshift knapsack out of a pair of pants that had been tied together at the end of the legs with shoelace’s than right thru were one would have strapt in a belt. Finnaly tying the makeshift knapsack in a normal knot.

"Danny… !!?" she back tracked her hand to her chest having this look of defeat. Danny did not look at her putting on his makeshift knapsack having his back against her as he stood up.

”I will be out for a while” is the only thing he said before he started to walk.

Walking along the platform he observe all the others that are still asleep. The kids sleeps on top of each others. Annie sleeping next to them in a sitting position with one kid over her lap.

the Chocolate crazed Mateo clutching to his chocolate bars muttering something about ’sweaty feets’. He almost runs to the nearest staircase steping on the first step.

Danny froze at first contemplating if he wants to continue to take another step but after looking behind him seeing all the people who are sleeping safely and happy together. From a distans he saw Rosé wave a hand reluctantly.

He no longer hesitates. He stept up.

The staircase got plenty of steps and when Danny finally takes the last step he is in the ticket hall. Leaping over one of the subway barrier with ease. Beyond that is a fairly large empty space.
Walls coverd in cobalt moroccan tile patterns. Three old ticket booths have seen there better days. There windows have been smashed leaving glas splinter on the floor. Big pillers stod in middle of the room. Broken benches along the walls.

He start walking following old rundown signs showing were the exist is. Comming to a stairway leading outside.
Glimpse of sunshine from the soon raising sun touched his cheeks as he walked up the stairway. Danny breathed out. He did not have a plan on were to go he just wanted to keep on going for a while.
Where ever he went around there's always this sense of someone observing him be it the few scavengers looting containers behind cafés and restaurants or ghosts.

One thing Danny had noticed about Gotham is there are plenty of ghost’s that tend too stick to certain spots but unlike the ghost he knew who would generally couse havoc or is just being mischievous for fun, these are however seem too weak.
Only being able to create a thin misty illusion of themselves. Unnoticed by people like if they werent even there.

The box ghost who is the weakest ghost he knew would make these shake out of fear. Danny could see it in his mind boxy going ”FEAR ME AND MY CARDBOARD BOXES OF DOOM!!”. A smile cracked up on his face and a little laugh came out.

His powers do work but when he had tested ’going ghost’ a white ring with blue emitting light would form around him from his center but just as quickly as it appeared, it dessolved.

Maybe it was becuse he is still weak. Who knows. If he wasn’t part human would he be like those ghosts?.

Danny came to a narrow alley with a pinkish under tone colored wall to his left and against it were carboardboxes wich stod on top on eachother and a door.
The wall to the right was covered in graffiti with jumbling letters and depicting a green haired clown with a maniac grin from ear to ear. Theres a rusty fire escape and next to it a scaffold granting not much room to move.

Everything in Danny's line of sight started to swirl and twirl around. He could not focus. Unable to go in a straight line he staggered to the scaffold. He hooks his arm on too one of the steel legs. Rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

At times Danny had felt dizzy. It started ever since coming to Gotham. Was this because of shortage of ecto-energy In the air or was it because of what GIW did to him. He wasn't sure.

He had to wait a few seconds before things slows down. He feels disoriented, wanting to puke. He waited for it to end. Danny closed his eyes. Trying to focus on hearing his heartbeat. It hasn’t been normal since the portal accident when was fourteen. It had become slow, irregular slow. Listening to it made him usaually calm down.

At an point were he feelt okay to move again. He climbed up the fire escape ladder. While up at the roof he saw the city of Gotham wake up.

Car's honking, people walking to there jobs. From a distance he saw a building with massiv stairway and at its end are two hooded statues each holding a sword guarding what ever lay beyonde its doors. A sign reads gotham city hall. It buzzled with life with people in suits going in and out.

Finger River seperats the upper and lower Gotham Proper.

On his left side is Robinson Park.
Its green scenery reminds him more of a wild forest than an park. Dangerous yet beautiful. There are glimpses of a greenhouse, seemingly protected by vines. To his right was Gotham Hospital one of the largest Hospitals in Gotham city. One of the few modern buildings.

Danny walks to the ledge and sits down. Taking his makeshift knapsack and unraveling the knot. Pulling out one of his flat head chisels and the wood panel he worked on before. Carving out and shaping the figures were he last left of.

He could smell of the clear scent of algae out of finger river brought by an breez from soutwest.
The clocktower bells echoed ringing an metalic symthony. Sunlight reflected a warm redish orange color on the surface of the waking city.

Gotham may be harsh and scary specialy at night but it’s still have moments of beauty and warmth.

”I will give Rosé an apology once I’m back”

Hours later Danny finished up the last details. Putting small cartoony ghosts on the frame. What he had carved was his family and his friends. He didn’t have a photo of them and was begining to fear that he would forget them. This way he wouldn’t forget.

Never.

Danny had began to feel a bit hunger. An Café close by had surely allready tossed away yesterdays sandwiches if he was lucky enough than it wouldn’t be ransacked.
He packed up his things and tossed his knapsack over his shoulders when the building he standed on starts to shook than it stopt as if something big rammed into the building.

Danny could tell by hearing things falling down and hearing a scream. That there is a fight. Danny followed the sounds from over to the otherside of the edge. Looking down he sees four cops against this gigant guy dressed in raggs covering his face. They used some sort of staff tassering him. The big guy’s movent were off.

Stale, exhausted and restrained as if moving would hurt him. Theres this scream comming from him it sounded wild and unhuman but it feelt human. It feelt painful. They had him pind against the wall.

Danny could hear how The cops talked into the radio requesting backup. Backup!!! Aaah Hell Noo!!

Danny did what danny do best. Jump into danger. And jumpt he did.

He jumped right of the ledge landing on top of one cop. Now sitting right on a knocked out cop ”Havn’t your moms said that it’s wrong to bully!” Danny said smiling mockingly getting the attention from the other cops who had a look of confusion of what just happend.

”WHAT THE HELL KID!! Shouted one of the cops facing danny and that was all the big guy needed to get a hold of the staffs tassering him breaking them with pure power. Roaring angerly, Hitting one cop making them fly to the ground. Scared shitless one of the two policemen left points there gun at the big fellow.

Theres this click and than Bang!. The big guy put a hand on his left shoulder. Indicating that he was shoot there. Danny notice how thick skinned the guy’s hand was and for a moment he saw that big guys face. It was similar to a reptile with human features, sharp teeths. Surfaces are armoured with large osteoderms.

Theres a growl comming from him. Anger present in his eyes. The big guy slams himself into a wall making a gigant hole. The still standing policemen talk in there walkie talkies statting he got away. Now it was Danny’s time to vanish. Try to flee the scene while they are still distracted.

Easier said than done, Danny wasn’t even given the chance to turn himself invisible when he feelt hands on his shoulders. He looks up to a man with white hair with slightly brown color left ageing with gods grace, glasses, a light brown coat and that man really knew how to rock a mustach.

Well Shit Danny thought to himself.

”I like my coffeé black with lots off sugar added”

Chapter Text

Cars honk loudly. People jog at a steady pace. An aroma mixed with spices and old grease lingers from a street vendor selling their food to people passing by in a hurry. Ringdoves flock together soaring up to buildings tops cooing softly. Streets were buzzing full of life. For a moment this was all toned out.

Danny was fixed on the man holding his shoulders. The old man gave out a professional yet soft shine.

He couldn’t let himself be caught.
Not again.

Danny bites his lower lip. He had to make some difficult decisions. Either fight and escape or comply.

Comply meant risks of revealing his identity while fighting cops meant big trouble in the future. Both are bad but he doesn’t regret his decision to help that big guy.

He made a choice and all he needs now is an opportunity.

Danny was led out of the alleyway by the old man that introduced himself as James Gordon. Danny’s hands were cuffed behind his back. He is not wearing his bag due to it being confiscated by the said man that cuffed him. They both walk to a pale sandy yellowish-brown colored 1986 dodge diplomat.

“kid we will have to contact your guardians at the station,” James said opening up the door to the passenger seat in the back.

Danny snarled, not liking the word guardian much to his disdain.

“you know officer I don’t like going with a stranger, so I better..” Danny makes a fast movement sprinting his legs in a dash towards Gordon using a great deal of force tackling him down “tackle the highway”

Gordon fell with his back hitting the stone walkway. With his mouth, Danny grabbed his knapsack as if he were a dog.

He ran across the road avoiding being hit by cars. Voices of cops shout out to catch him. For a second Danny looks over his back to see Gordon be back on his feet pursuing after him.

He had run handcuffed with his bag dangling between his teeth. Sprinting thru a crowd of people. He had to shove them out his way. Turning right to a large spaced alleyway. On both sides are wide windows and fire escapes.

He ran as quickly as possible. Hearing footsteps drumming behind him.

Once again he felt the sensation of being haunted down. His heart kept pounding faster and faster. Breathing becomes harder when carrying his Knapsack in his mouth. Danny takes a sharp turn to the left where the alley split into two directions.

Pushing his legs harder as he runs he hears Gordon from a distance yelling for him to stop. Danny wasn't going to listen. In his mind, he was dead set on not getting caught.

To Danny’s anguish, the way he had chosen was a dead end.

Water spouts stuck loosely on the walls. There is no door, no windows. These were nothing that could help him climb up. He was stuck. Panic grew. Idiot he thought about himself for taking a wrong turn.

A sleepless night had made him tired and exhausted. His hunger got better of him and his mind wandered off to wanting a nasty burger. With juicy patties, pickled onions, cheese, bacon and a secret sauce. All together between two buns. Drool started coming out of his mouth just on the thought.

He snapped out of it.

He glanced after some type of escape. Eyes falling on a manhole lid. If he can't go up then he can go down.

Part by part his body disappears. Vanishing out of the blue. The only thing that could be indicating that someone had been there, was handcuffs that fell on the ground creating this clunky tone.

☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆

Behind numerous desks sits working policemen and women all having different units each handling very various matters such as murders, burglary, economic crimes, or just small complaints. Gordon went to his office.

The wall is painted white and only about below half has a different pigment, a blueish grey. Shelves stand cramped together against the wall. A whiteboard with pictures of places and people bound together using redlines.
In the middle of the room stands his desk with piles of notes and a computer.
putting down his notes near the desktop computer on his antique desk.

A picture frame of a young red-headed woman and himself in his younger years when he still had Auburn color hair, smiling together. Stands proudly on the desk next to two other frames of a red-haired girl and a boy.

He had to settle the important matter first. Starting up his computer. Sending an email to a close associate within the other police departments in Minnesota and Illinois later wrote down a detailed report about the chase.

Even tho their conversation was short sentences the kid didn’t have a Gotham accent rather a Minnesotan or north Illinois accent. A possibility is that this kid ran to Gotham knowing he would easily go unnoticeable in Gotham.

In all of his years as commissioner seeing kids and teens in bad situations was always unpleasant.

As a Father James Gordon couldn’t let go of any child with ease without knowing they had at least someone to take care of them and a roof over their heads.

Tired eyes, thin and frail-looking. If Gordon would only go by the boy’s thick layer of tattered clothes and ragged appearance then he was certain that boy wasn’t well of.

Another thing that stuck to him was the boy’s icy blue eyes that had stared at him with a cold gaze.

Reminding him of winter’s first snow.

He had to search the LEADS system if there was a juvenile with his description Later.
But for now, he needs to wrap things up, first hand with the killer croc case before that.

The air condition sizzle. It blows cool air across strands of hair on Gordon’s head from above. His arm lay rested on the desk between him and the computer.

” Hey Jimbo get your ass out of the screen” Gordon peeked his head to his left seeing a heavy man named Harvey Bullocks.

A good cop wore down by years fighting corruption.
Some may see him as sloppy or oafish but that’s far from the truth.

He is smart, loyal, and a dedicated man.

Harvey grunted as he stood leaning into the wall chewing on a toothpick. This overweight man had been sour for weeks at an end after his doctor wanted him to quit smoking and start to exercise to better his health. Something he did so gruntingly excepted but not without a fight.

” That handbag got away, took a tour around Robinson park and we lost him in the river” irritation was the last thing one could say from Bullock’s expression.

Red hood had hunted down killer Croc, exhausting him to the point where they could intervene.

The plan was to corner Croc and shoot with enough sedatives to knock him out cold. Se, him back to Arkham. Too bad that plan failed.

Now they had to rack their brains for a new plan.

” those slippery freaks they keep on f**king with us” Bullocks squints his eyes, putting his hands into his long coat’s pockets.

” Harvey, the kid got away.” Gordon fretted over what he could have done. The kid was strong even if he didn’t look at it. Being able to tackle him a full-grown man with battle experience and sprint faster than anybody he knew.

the boy had just vanished leaving just the handcuffs at a dead end. How did he disappear? and how did he get out of the cuffs? What’s going on?.

” Jim, there are tones of scumbags that only recruit kids for easy shit, he is probably just an errand-boy”, said Bullocks confidently in his conclusion

James knew Harvey Bullock was trying to ease his trouble. In his way.

” Whatever fruit loops are lose there’s nothing we can’t handle Jim,” said Bullocks picking out his toothpick and tossing it into the nearest trashcan.

Gordon nods and both men stay silent before looking over the whiteboard for a case that started three weeks prior.

stared significantly at three images that contained three corpses. their face had frozen in a solidified horror. their clothes had been stripped off.

The only significant things these bodies had in common except for the scared faces and similar state was of three tattooed dots on the skin between the forefinger and the thumb forming a triangle.

These corpses were found on separate parts of Gotham, the entrance of St. Lukes hospital in lower Gotham proper, G. Lighthouse in city hall district, and last outside the boxing club nine lives in the bowery district.

It made no sense.

No outward wounds. No witness. No nothing, they were waiting from autopsy for answers.

Chapter Text

Water splashes, a sense of moisture fills the air combined with a stank that is hard to breathe in. It was for the fact that it smelled like rotten eggs, decaying fish, damp and musty grime. It had aged like a fine wine except for the opposite.

Danny has a hard time navigating through the sewage system because of total darkness. He had to rely on his other senses. Feeling his way around with his hands and listening to splashes of water.

How long has it been minutes or hours he couldn’t be certain.

He felt nauseated by the smell that deprived him of his hunger. Wet up to his knees and was tired. He accidentally tumbles, forth when he hits something solid with his right foot. In a quick motion, he catches himself with his palms in the water.

Now even wetter than before he rises, then shudder. Shaking off the icky water.

” ooh crud, this was not a good idea”.

How would he even know where to go in this darkness? What was his plan? He thought that going around to discover light was a good plan and all but not in so much.

Now he is not sure what to do. He never was good at planning, these sorta things were better suited for Tucker and Sam.

For a moment a rush of melancholy washed over him. Remembering all the wacky adventures they had done over the years. He could only chuckle bitterly.

Tucker’s optimistic attitude, light-hearted jokes could always crack Danny up, smart, naturally observant, and his most loyal friend though he never knew how to quit talking.

Sam's rational thinking saved him more than ones but her strong will could be overbearing especially in boss mode. Yet caring and passionate taking the blame for covering for him.

He missed them dearly.

He had to keep going for now bearing in mind that he had to find his way out of here.

He listens to the sounds of water moving. He followed a noise coming from his left. Feeling the streaming sewage water gets faster and stronger between his legs.

The palm of his hands touch the stone wall guiding him. He felt muddy substances going between his fingers.

The rustle of small feet hears sprinting along on the sides squealing past him.

He becomes heavier with every step he took. Wet clothes weighing him down.

The streaming sewage water rushes more viciously now tugging on his legs. Water level increasing higher.

If Danny didn't know better he could swear that it slopes downwards.

Surges of waves nudged him. Danny carefully places his feet not to get caught up by the strong flows and slip.

A low hum started to vibrate throughout the sewage devouring the water hefty splashing. He could not at first specify where it came from due to the complex sewage system.

The hum was coming from behind him. Now louder than before.

Danny tried to keep his calm as he felt further was thrust by force on his back. Reaching out for something to grab onto but there’s nothing. Losing his footing, he was swept away.

Violent waves toss him around slamming him against walls and currents dragging him down under the water. He had to hold his breath.

Fighting against the waves was an option but it proved itself to be too strong it took much stamina from him which he didn’t have much of at this point.

He feels tons of pressure on his chest. His heart throbbed. Forcing himself up above water levels finding air pockets.
Briefly gasped for air before being pulled back down by force because the waves caused him to feel panic.

It was like being on a waterslide of terror.

Numerous times he was thrown violently off his side. Not knowing where the streams are taking him.

He was spinning, feeling cramped then there was this drop.

He was flushed out.

Falling into deep water. He desperate swam up. Catching air.

For the first time in what seems like hours, he sees a glimpse of light coming from above. Though seemingly still stuck in the sewage the waves had washed him into somewhere very spacious.

He saw the weirdest thing.

A house made of wood and metal scrapes hammered or bent together. Standing above water level on multiple tree pillars.

A shabby-looking ladder.
The whole house was uneven and crooked. Its roof was almost sunken down on one end.
A porch with just a bunch of planks of different lengths and sizes. Two lit lanterns dangled near a big-looking door.

Danny swam with what he could muster up. Climbing up the ladder. Feeling the heavyweight of his wet clothes.

Sewage water drips down on the porch. He breaths as if life depended on it. Throwing up whatever excess sewage water had gotten into his lungs. The taste were horrible. His limbs twitch given in. Exhausted he laid himself there flat on the porch.

Hearing someone open up a door and the footsteps that followed. Heavy steeps.

The last thing he saw were very blurry but was the contour of big scaly green-skinned feet.

”I will be damnd, I received a little lagniappe”

Danny felt how his body became limp and his eyelids heavy. Ultimately closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

Waylon Jones is not a name that strikes fear into one’s heart or is a well know name to boot.

It’s ordinary, simple, and sounds more fixed for somebody working as a cashier at a supermarket.

What does however strike fear is the name Killer croc.

Sluggish hanging up wet sewage drenched clothes outside a crooked-looking house on a cloth line. The big and reptilian man went back in closing the door behind himself.

Croc stared at the raven-haired boy.
That boy was sleeping soundly in croc’s hammock, a hammock made of a large net. A blanket out of stitched fabrics was put on him.

He had reinforced the hammock with metal wires being able to hold up a heavy load.

An unconventional bed but a bed nonetheless.

The house’s inside was modestly decorated with only the necessity. A table that was just a big wooden box with a cloth on, candles chasing away darkness standing in wine bottles, and an outdated calendar hung nailed on the wall.

The kid had a weird smell to him Croc thought.

Even dough drenched in sewage water The other smell was dominating.

The closest thing that could describe that smell was the flower named chrysanthemum.

A herbal, slightly musty note with green and spicy facets.

What should he do with the kid?

Normally whoever trespasses on his domain, his sanctuary and his home would meet with their creator.

But a thought accrued to him when he had picked up the kid that collapsed on his porch. this little punk had defied the maze-like sewage system and even survived the tide.

No human would willingly go down here.
What was this kid after And who were they working for?

This kid’s breath is slow but consistent.

Croc can't take his reptilian eyes off this kid even when his gunshot wounds itch while healing.

Croc had escaped plenty of times using his brute force.

Locking him up at Arkham or black gate. It didn’t
really matter where he was locked up, for him he would anyway get out.

All guards were assholes, treating him like an animal Putting him in chains and a shock collar.

They had their fun but in the end, the one that’s eating up the other's hand gets to laugh last.

Dock this time, his escape wasn’t so scott free. Being gun down by the red masked bat that is prone to be the most violent of those flying rats.

Being shot on with normal bullets wouldn't hurt him thanks to his thick skin.

But no, that crazy bastard had to get illegal guns and bullets hardened with antimony.

Croc had been touched to a certain degree.

They had a fun night playing cat and mouse.

He snarls at the thought of the bats. Once he gets his hand on one he would want to rip their pretty little wings off and use their bones as toothpicks as payback.

They are all cowards, can’t even come face-to-face in a fair fight with him without using their gadgets.

Crocs muscles tensed, the teeth of his grinds together making this low screeching.

He wanted to show them all that killer Croc was no pushover. Sure he wasn’t the fastest pirogue on the bayou.

Still, he was a force to be reckoned with and he was going to show that one way or another.

He was not as tolerant or passive as those many years ago when growing up with his aunt.

The same aunt that would shower him with spit and beatings.

Her neglection had left him starved at times leading him to steal at young age. Beginning his juvenile records. The only thing that woman loved more after herself was her bottles.

“That b*tch can rot in HELL!!!” he hissed angrily slamming his fist on to his chest, puffing it up. Working to control his temper.

For the time being, he had to think about what to do.

In the corner of his eyes stands the kid’s bag looming against a wall where croc had placed it.

He towers over it, crouched down with his big frame. Opening it.

There’s nothing special some carving tools, a bunch of small heroes made out of wood.

No ID badge or money.

Well that figures, The kid likes heroes just like everyone else.
Putting those goody toe shoes on a pedestal he thought as going thru more of the kid's stuff.

He found some kind of wooden mural with carved-out people. Starring at it.

There’s nothing but trash, none of it points out who this Kid is or who they are working for.

Mad hatter, Black mask, the riddler, Hush, or even Batman. Who is it?

He started walking over to the sleeping teen with determined footsteps, hovering over him. Listening to the kid's breath.

Taken in the boy’s floral scent. Hearing heartbeats slowly drumming.

Should he just end his doubt right there?.

He could let his animalistic instincts loose.

It would be so easy to just snap that teen's little neck. Breaking those bones wouldn’t be difficult, having blood splatter on the floor would be messy but cleanable.

Croc didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. It’s a regular thing for him after all.

But if he were to do that he wouldn't know why the kid is here. Maybe there's even a way to use this kid.

*tap, tap*

“Rise and shine kiddo,” he said tapping on the teen’s cheeks with his large reptilian hand.

The kid mumbled something about wanting to sleep ten more minutes before going to school swipe away Crocs hand.

Irritated Croc tapped harder on the kid's cheek, he watches how cold blue eyes opens up.

Chapter Text

Croc had expected a huge reaction, shaking in fear, sweating, disgust, or screaming any type of reaction at all. People would act in those kinds of manners.
They couldn’t hide their emotions so easily when facing him a known criminal that has a reputation of being a cold blood killer.

It wasn’t that he didn’t dislike or like being treated that way, it was that it gave Croc a sense of superiority over them. It made him feel powerful.
He was the top dog not the other way around.

Most would tremble and be wary of offending him. He liked that. But

Nothing.

Ice-blue eyes stared at him with a deadpanned expression still having this tiredness in their eyes. Ultimately had dark circles under them.
His legs dangling in the air.
Parts of the kid’s bangs slide over his ears as he tucks them back. Left cheek a bit red where croc had tapped hard to wake him up.

”Thanks for letting me rest here, in your home” the kid scratches his neck and lifts his eyebrows while smiling visibly showing that he felt a bit awkward.

Croc scuffed, whatever this kid was playing at it wasn't to be anything good. His reptilian-like eyes scanned for any movements that could imply hostility against him.

”I appreciate it, really I do,” the kid said sounding sincere. Threading a hand through his hair. Looking at him with a gentle and childlike gaze.

Croc's eyes widened, lifting his chin drawing in a long but quiet breath. croc was a little taken aback by how the young teen could look so soft towards him.

”but your waking method! like what the fudge cake was that for!!” the kid barked while pointing at his reddish cheek. His eyes narrowed and a line appeared between his eyebrows. Pouting his lips out of annoyance.

Croc sat down, placing his hand in a resting position on one of his knees. His left leg was closer to his body with the knee pointing upward while the other leg lay down comfortably on the floor. He hurls his head slightly back.

Gazing straight at the kid menacing.

Even when sitting down Croc was massive with his total height being over seven feet tall armed with thick, leather skin with bony, plate-shaped scales. Teethes are pointed, cone-shaped, and are located outside of his jaw. Weighing over six hundred pounds just in pure muscles.

His mere presence would scare people to run with their tails between their legs.

There was something peculiar about this boy in front of him not being afraid. He didn’t like it.

Rather than indicating an ounce of fear this kid is blatantly obvious with how he didn’t care or was just nonchalant to his predicament instead of locking it in and butter up to him.

Either way, this kid was a fool or had the backing.

Not only that the kid's voice had an odd sense of familiarity, have they met before?.

”Oye, Listen up twig!!, I go my way in my home and no knee-high kid will get to decide what I can't do” Croc bellowed a low vibrating noise. Nobody had the right to boss him around. He was not a simple henchman. He was Killer Croc.

A slender teen with not much going on in the muscle department. Wouldn't stand a chance against him.
Why would someone even employ this weak-ass-looking kid?

He had to rethink if someone could have sent this boy down or not. There’s always a possibility that this kid is just one of those homeless people that sometimes make their way in here.

Outcasted from society, abandoned with no hope.

He had watched them drift without a purpose. Some meet their demise in the harsh floods that frequently happen and others return to the surface in the last attempt at correcting their lives.
Croc could not exclude the possibility. This kid was just too suspicious to ignore.

”you better start talking about why your here or I bash your skull into mush,” said Croc in an intense voice making his statement clear when pushing his big body forward.
His eyes darkened and a crooked smile showed more of his teeth meant to threaten the boy.

”Have you ever considered starting a career in those detective series, you would be perfect for the angry and broody cop that screams a lot of role” the kid could hardly contain his mischievous grin.

”you could certainly win an oscar” the boy motioned his index finger and thumb together giving a smug look.

Croc snarled and finds the boy's jokes annoying.

Irritation slowly pricked him, crossing his arms then rubbing his face. Sighing.
This kid was avoiding the topic of hand.

”Stop joking AND TELL ME!!” Croc was beginning to lose his cool. He wasn't an all-to-patient man, to begin with.

”Lettuce cut the cheese, well a certain someone left me to be roasted together with the bacon in the frying pan, to avoid it I went down the spaghetti hole, HAPPY!!!” the boy was insinuating something croc couldn’t understand the meaning of it or hunger was getting to the kid's brain.

Both locked gazes into one another. The glare from the kid was more like a frown a puppy would make when you take away their squeak toy.

The yellow-orange light emitting from candles is the only warmth existing in this room. Splashes from water could be heard below the wooden planks as it follows the flow down streams.

Their battle of stares that seemed to take several minutes, their match was broken off by the kid who was reluctant. Sweet victory in Croc’s eyes.

He felt pleased to win such a childish attempt to intimidate him. So much he chuckles. Due to his sudden chuckle, the kid tensed his shoulders.

Finally, a response Croc liked.

the kid looks away from him, scouting his surroundings only to notice that the knapsack was open. Things laying on the floor were visibly topsy-turvy without care.
For a moment the kid's expression turned sour with glossy eyes. He bitterly sighs at that sight.
The too-big t-shirt with a bat insignia on it fluttered as the boy jumped down towards the knapsack. Arranging carefully his things together as he knelt.

Croc felt an uncomfortable little tingling inside his chest when looking at the scene.

”Yee, did you have to be so rough with my stuff? At least put them neatly together,” the kid stopped over the wooden murial Croc had been deemed earlier as trash.
Warily picking it up and with careful strokes slowly tracing his fingers on its surface. The kid seemed to disappear in their thoughts.

No matter how much people told him, he was a monster or an aberration. Sure he liked to feel superiority when feared by others but picking on the weak just because you can, didn’t suit him.
Killer Croc may be someone that follows his twisted way of wanting revenge on this world.
Equally pain will be inflicted onto those who did him wrong. As they say an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Waylon Jones was not a bully.

That is his one and only creed.

Croc raised his body, stepping steadily while the wood boards shook beneath his feet. Lowering his massive body and bends his legs in a crouching position next to the kid.

Picking up a wood figurine that resembles superman. Looking closely at it had more expressive details Than he had first thought.
Showing the worry some expression that superman often gets, clutching his fists and standing in a powerful and heroic stance, his cape waved lightly as if the air were blowing on it.

”here” Croc handed over the superman to the teen busting the kid's bubble.

The kid turned his head looking at him and for a moment Croc thought he saw neon green glowing eyes. once Croc blinked the teen’s eyes were ice-blue again it was probably only candles light that played him a trick of illusion in the teen's eyes.

”Thanks, My name is Danny” the teen named Danny reached out his hand crabbing the Superman figurine.

Croc now realized how small those hands of the kid were compared to his own hands. The kid’s skin is borderline sickly pale but soft and the teen had felt a bit chilly when he was lightly touched.

The kid tried to sound a more cheerful tone but croc was no fool.
No matter how much the kid tried it, he couldn't hide the fact that he is a bad liar.

When closer inspecting the young teen Croc smelled his flowery smell of chrysanthemum. It's musty, herbal green and spicey scent was stronger than before.

Croc had this sense of unease, Not knowing why.

Chapter Text

Danny looked at the reptilian man plucking down now dried clothes from a clothesline.
Having his arms rest on an ill-made railing while watching.
He feels the hard wooden surface under his bare feet.

This big guy had been first hostile asking things in a threatening and confusing way. But going thru his private belonging was a bit tad too much for Danny's taste.

Well, who wouldn't react like that when an unknown teenager with the potential to be a threat to one’s safety just washed up on the porch.

But Danny has gotta hand it to the big guy when doing a sharp turn.

It's not like he owes Danny anything for doing his little deed, Danny had butted in with his free will course that is what heroes do.

Helping out those in need and protecting the weak it being ghosts or humans, is what he does. That who he is.

Even if it has been a while, it had felt good. Feeling the rush of excitement and the familiar feelings that thrive only in battles. He had missed that part of him.

Nobody could take that away from him not the GIW, Freakshow or any ghost for that matter.

Tho he have to lay low, Danny knew he was weak, not being able to go ghost meant something is wrong in a bad way and there were limitations on how much he could use his powers.

So he couldn’t go around doing his hero business again not yet at least.

The little rest he had obtained had done wonders. It had fixed his stamina and a few bruises from being thrown like a ragdoll.

For now, all Danny wanted was two things food and going back to strand station in the Bowery district.

Danny was pretty positive the others might be anxious because he hasn't returned.
They might not be the type of people who ask questions but They are good.

Down here in the sewers there is no sense of time. Only existing. kinda like the ghost zone.

The gnawing feeling in Danny’s stomach keeps reminding him he has to eat something.
At this moment even Sam's mud pie which was just mud with grass seemed appealing.

“hey, heya Bob, I missed the morning dine dive, do you have any crumbs or leftovers?”

He had yet to learn the fellow’s name but Danny had contemplated on calling him Bob, Kevin, or Big Buddy BB for short.

Danny was the worst at naming things or people. Bob was a good name tho and this big guy did exude this Bob’ness over him.

the big guy turned around to gaze down on Danny growling in annoyance probably a reaction to his newfound name. Danny was sure this big guy would be fun at parties.

It took a little time before the big guy answered “if you are in for it, I got plenty of rats” in a way that sounded bitter with a little chuckle at the end.

Danny was petrified by the thought of eating rats.

Has this guy been able to survive down here by eating rats all this time?!! Danny could figure it has been hard for the big guy.

What crept up in Danny’s mind was that display of those cops ganging up on the big guy with tasers and guns. He had been injured beforehand.

It was a dead giveaway that he was not looked at as a fellow human being. More akin to a wild beast or a monster than anything else.

It's not his fault for being born that way.

In a world of constantly being seen as an object for harassment not knowing really what genuine kinship is.
To survive in that cruel environment, one must use whatever means are necessary to keep one’s sanity.

Danny had done the same. Thinking back to the time at GIW's facility. He gave himself a sad smile.

It is nice to have someone that he could relate to even if there is a decade or two between them.

Having someone that could understand you even a little bit makes life easier.

“stop dreaming twig, here! Put them on” the big guy scuffed and crinkled his nose supposedly irritated by something that was on his mind.

A bundle of clothes was launched at him. It was Danny's clothes. A Long-sleeved black sweater, a pair of jeans, and a quilted jacket with a blue and white argyle pattern.
His red hamburger socks have still its little hole at the side where his pinky toe would point out and brown leather boots.

he stroked his hand studious on the worn clothes, they had mostly dried and were a little humid where the fabrics are thicker. His boots were still wet on the inside.

The stench of sewage water was nothing Danny desired to have the smell on his clothes. He has to wash them later when he gets back.

Danny started first putting on his jeans then his sweater feeling the soft fabrics on his skin.

“when done dressing, scram” the big guy’s voice was neutral letting a Louisiana accent gleam thru. Glaring intensive on somewhere else and his arms crossing over each other.

“well I will do that, I just need you to guide me Bob,” said Danny with full confidence that he would just get lost again. He wasn't proud of saying that but Danny knew its better to say he needs help.

Without warning the big guy’s big hand snatches Danny’s sweater lifting him. Bringing Danny closer to his face.

Having a closer look at his reptilian face. Thick layers of the scaly-looking membrane between his eyes were one could expect eyebrows.
There are scratches or re-eminence of old wounds on the surface. Squinting his sandy yellow eyes and continued to furrow his forehead. Drawing back a snarl, gritting his teeth.

Something was irritating the big guy Bob, in his mind, Danny hadn't offended him in a way that would justify any type of aggression.
Still, til now Danny hasn't been harmed making Him positive he wouldn't be hurt.

The big guy let out a sharp breath, it had a distinctive odor of muddy sewage water, a slightly fish-like whiff with a sophisticated rotten meat smell. There’s another aroma of fermented grass like those newly cut grass clumps that collects under a lawnmower.

“peehuee!! when was the last time you brushed your teeth, it reeks of death and oddly enough a hence off fermented grass”

“Gar ici boug!!, you’re in my home!!, a skinny mullet like you don’t get to boss me around!!” this time he sounded very irritated, nostrils flare up, sparks lit up those sandy yellow eyes while their pupils thinned.

Now the domino was dropped and Danny could understand what the big guy was irritated about. He hadn't meant to come off bossy.

“First of I gotta say you got very pretty yellow sapphire eyes”
“and second I'm sorry big buddy, you have been a wonderful host nine out of ten, would recommend. It’s just a maze down here I can't get home without your help, please”

“Co faire est le boug alors couyon?” it came unexpectedly from the big man. His voice was whispering low and hesitant with a hint of curiosity. He seemed to calm down.

Dropping Danny down and losing his grip on the black sweater. Danny felt how his feet touched the cold wooden boards.
Murmuring slowly as of carefully thinking about something. Turning around towards the door into the house and stopping. Reaching his hand for the doorknob.

Danny couldn’t see whatever expression the big guy was making since he was facing the front of the door. Danny could only see the large back covered with muddy green boney plates and scales.

Even when he holds his back straighten there’s a tension in his shoulders.

“you Owe me a favor pishouette, a big one”

“I Wouldn’t have it any other way”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Yellow-orange light from two lanterns shines softly touching even the darkest corners.

Waterdrops drip down from above, humming a mellow and clear lullaby as it reconnects with a larger portion of water.

heavy footsteps in the body of sewage water are amplified as they splash everywhere, its eco bounce along brick walls that are curved upward making the ceiling round at the top.

Danny watches how the large man in front of him guiding Danny with relative ease. Danny was sure this man had mapped out the whole sewer in his head.
Walking together through the stinky smelly water with debris floating around.

In their silence, they continuously keep strolling. Sometimes finding ledges to take breaks on when Danny needed to catch his breath and get rid of his dizziness.
At times he had to ignore the gnawing discomfort in his abdomen and the empty feeling.

The sewer stench still being unbearable to Danny but ineffective on the big guy.

A smirking and a head shake is all the big guy does. Danny had to cover his mouth with a now dried fabric to reduce the smell Coming into his nostrils.

Danny did try breaking the ice while walking along.

Doing jokes that just made the big buddy bob roll their eyes in annoyance and his growling was fun.

It had been so long being able to crack out jokes.

It was as if Danny could finally breathe. The pain of his chest lessened. Feeling a bit at ease.

“Dang I could go for a Nasty burger or a juicy Lucy and pops right now” Danny could just imagine the taste in his mouth how juicy the patties filled with bits of cheese are, the soft and sturdy sweet brioche bun that wouldn't crumble. Pickles that add a nice acidity to cut through the fat.
Finely sliced red onion gives a kick and crunch to each bite.
Slices of bacon with the right thickness of salty, chewy, crispy and smokey taste.
Lettuce on top of the bun and under the patty ensuring the juice from the patty doesn’t cause the bun to disintegrate. The right amount of mayo in combination with a tomato sauce of good quality.

The perfect combination of tastes and textures – sweet, sour, salt – with a bit of crunch.

Danny felt how watery his mouth was on the mere thought.

“Ech! Those ain’t any good, a good po’boy sandwich can't be rivaled, boug” the big guy was confident in his choice of food.

“you’re crazy! how can a mere French bread with roasted biff compare with a nasty burger!” Danny was being overly dramatic he knew it but couldn't help to stay loyal to the local burger chain.

“I will make you taste our pride boug” the big guy scuffed, Danny could see a proud smirk with more teeth showing.

“aAHha unlucky for you, I got no money!!” in saying that Danny felt pitiful being broke.

*clink* *clink* *tap*

The big guy stopped abruptly without alerting Danny making him slam into his back.

“oumf!, what’s going on Bob?” Danny saw how the big reptilian man got focused on something stimulating his muscles, tensing them.
Twitching his large fingers readying his claws, moving slowly his body into a position of a stance Danny had seen wrestlers do on tv.

Danny knew this by heart. How every fiber of your body would ready itself followed by an intense battle with a strong opponent.

“be Quiet Twig!!” Big guy snarled, annoyed pointing his glares at one corner were two openings divided in T formation.

There was something black and small that was flung at them. Both avoided in time but doing so meant the destruction of one of their lanterns. Rendering them with one lantern and less light.
Clunking noises of metal bounce on the curvy wall than splashing into the sewage water.

Danny felt perplexed about what was going on. On the other hand, the big guy was calmly watching something in the dark move which Danny wasn't able to see that good mostly a menacing contour.

A strange sense of a silent power struggle radiates in the atmosphere.

Whomever it was in the darkness where the last lantern's light doesn’t reach they knew how to use it. But was that out of habit or training? But it seemed like it doesn’t matter when the big guy could follow their movements.

“Waylon, you’re going back to Arkham”
A raspy deep voice said from the dark shadows. It's an adult male voice filled with determination and no hostility.

The big guy snorts finding whatever that voice said funny.
“you making me pomeé little rat”

Waylon? Was that His name? What Arkham? As in Elizabeth Arkham asylum for the criminally insane. Danny's thoughts were running on the full speedway track.

Arkham Asylum is known for housing the most dangerously insane criminals.

Its shady history started with the previous landowner of a man called Jason Blood who conducted an occult exorcism on mentally ill people driving away the ‘demons'. His exorcism was brutal at best.

Later Jason Blood sold the ground to the Arkhams.

The decedent Amadeus Arkham a psychiatrist founded the institution in memory of his dead sick mother. Rumors have it that Amadeus euthanized his mother due to being tired of taking care of her.

That’s one of the things what Danny had learned in his past two months in Gotham.

Old Gus had specifically warned him to be affiliated with anyone who had gone to Arkham Asylum.

Saying that they are dangerous people and not to be trusted.

Waylon sprung into action.

Fiercely swinging his body over a shadowy figure, demonstrating his huge size in comparison to the small person battling him.

Waylon's swings are powerful and direct but the figure is swiftly avoiding not to be hit by any blows.
The smaller figure has something like a cape that moves along smoothly.
The figure locked Waylon's neck giving a good knee blow to Waylon's back.

Waylon roar out of pain and grabs the figure on his back forcing him into a hug upside down, squeezing them with his muscles. The figure squirm in pain then kicks the big guy’s face. Making him let go staggering a step back.

Now more visibly angry the big guy Waylon growl, thrusting a punch that almost lands if it weren’t for the fact that figure ducked down.
The figure takes the opportunity to tackle Waylon’s legs making him fall into the water using the momentum.

The big guy rises quickly grasping the figure’s cape swinging him around and letting go sending the figure flying smashing against a wall.

There is this bang followed by rumbles of stone falling apart and big splashes. The figure rises not moving as quickly as before and hunches a little taking out something. Flung it in front of the feet of the big guy moving towards him then these blipping sounds.

*BOOM!*

Chapter Text

Water splashes upward sending spurts of waves pushing back.
Screeching sounds vibrate thru-out the sewer tunnels. Smoke ripples above water level. Danny's ears drum painfully.

Pulsing.

he had to cover them with his hands hoping that it quickly would subside. Still holding the lantern in one hand too stubborn to let it go.

His eyes had vastly been shut in an attempt to block out the sudden flash of light that easily pierced the darkness like it was butter.

Once again his clothes felt musty and wet. As he opens his eyes up spots flair in his line of sight. Blurry shapes move around. Blinking several times helps to regain focus.

Slowly his senses return to normal.

The figure that battled with Waylon had come somewhat into the light. Black cape and an overly black suit except for the torso the part being red with some kind of belts housing plenty of pockets. A bird insignia hung in the middle of the chest piece. His face was hidden away by a black mask covering half of it.

Danny couldn't put a familiar feeling away. A sense of Deja VU Seeing this costumed man. there was a name but Danny couldn’t remember what it was. It was frustrating having not remembered.

Waylon, who seemed confused or disorient stopped for a few seconds.
Properly To the sudden effects of the explosion. His movements Were sluggish and unfocused. Surely the same effects Danny had felt. Waylon’s case should be worse since he was the one that had been closest to that weird explosion.

The man ducked away smoothly and calculated to the sides avoiding Waylon’s punches. At times redirecting those said punches and throwing some high jabs then ending it by using a dynamic hook to the big guy's stomach. Making him growl out pain.

Furious Waylon was about to grab on to the man nearly doing so until that costumed man jumped back keeping a good distance between them.

”come on Waylon surrender, Karl is missing his poker buddy” the voice Danny had registered came from the man properly in his early twenties or late teens.
He had first thought that the voice was just raspy and deep.
Listening more to it, Danny was certain that the man’s voice is obscured by Something that can change the voice.

”you can tell That fleabag owes me money!! That if you can get out here alive bird boy ” the big guy grunts angrily.

After hearing Waylon’s ’bird boy' comment Danny started rambling up names of bird-themed superheroes in his head to lose up his memories.
Red raven, Hawkman, Birdman, Nighthawk, Nite owl, Hawk, Dove, Nightwing and Robin …. Ro..bin.. Red bird insignia robin r..ed Red Robin.

Red Robin!!! This realization of knowing the hero’s name made things more complicated.
There are currently four who are associated with the name Robin five if one tabs in the female Robin.

Robins sidekicks to the big bat.

The first is Nightwing, the second presumed to be Red hood. That the third generation of robins had taken on their own mantle becoming Red Robin handing over the title to the current robin.

Waylon Lifts both his hands making them into fists. In the next moment, he crashes his fist down almost mimicking an eruption.
Splashing water right at Red Robin who covers his eyes with one arm.

Taking this opportunity Waylon punches Red Robin. Even tho clearly in pain from Being punched he lashes onto the Big guy's hands In a steel grip falling willingly backward forcing Waylon’s big body to follow gravity then kicks Waylon's stomach with both feet making him roll over falling with great impact. Splashing water everywhere.

This was a mess. A freaking mess.

Should Danny help and who should he help? This whole thing was infuriating. Should he help Red Robin or help Waylon.

There’s a part of Danny, that gently whispers to him, assuring him that he shouldn't care about either one of them.

That he should just prioritize himself to let them go on with their fight. They had little meaning for him After all, he is a foreigner to Gotham city. Someone without a history or an identification. A Someone that doesn’t exist.

An ghost so to speak.

A weird enigma not having a place among humans or ghosts. As Spectra once asked him ”what are you? a ghost trying to fit in with humans? or some creepy little boy with creepy little powers?”. he had answered both but those he honestly believes in his own words?.

What good would he be doing anyway? And what harm could he create?.

This was not amity park where he shoulders the responsibility of protecting ghosts and humans alike. This wasn't his city, none of this had anything to do with him.

That He shouldn’t let the madmen in GIW get even the tiniest hint on his were about. Even if there have been two months they could still find him.

He is a victim of circumstances.

He could sneak away and forget this whole ordeal.

It would be easier.

But Waylon had agreed to guide him home with his charming demeanor and fantastic social skills. What would happen to him?

If he were to listen and follow those whispers in the back of his head, then he wouldn't be him.

Thee Danny Fenton, who was brought up by his parents and older sister.
Even if their methods in raising him and Jazz were sometimes controversial and unconventional they still loved and cared for them. Shaping him to be the person he is today.
They would have wanted him to act according to what he perceived as the right thing to do.

To help others and take responsibility for your actions.

This is the way, The Fenton’s way.

So far they had been able to land a few hits each. Red Robin is a more agile and swift thinker never letting go of an opportunity contrasting Waylon’s instinctively movements tho being big and strong he is short-sighted.

Heavy grunts and snarls are almost covered up by splashes. Waylon and Red Robin face each other. The big guy slams his fits down to smash Red Robin only for him to dodge it by using some sort of staff. Red Robin would use that staff smacking on Waylon's head.

Seeing this scene kinda made Danny want to play whack a mole. How fitting.

Red Robin keeps a certain distance between them. Danny was alarmed when he saw some sparks spurt out of the staff. Waylon growled as if knowing what was going to happen next. Danny had seen the irritation in his face grow.

”You little quacks have only been, a peekon par en sous mes pattes”

”Well you haven’t been that easy to deal with either”

Danny just needed a moment to when he should engage. Coming up with a plan. Still holding tightly to the lantern.
They walked around in a circle never letting their sight of each other go. They had rotated so much having that now Red Robin was only two meters away from Danny and Waylon being near the openings.

Danny’s chance was now.

In his hand was the lantern the only source of light in this space of the sewers. He threw it right at Red Robin in hope of momentarily blinding him.

He turned around facing the lantern's bright light. The lantern's glass broke, shattering over a wide area plopping into sewage water. Its Metal clang as it was bouncing off the wall before falling with a splash. The lantern not providing any more light made way for darkness.

With Red Robin distracted Danny felt how energy swells up, swirling within his core pumping. Floods of power were streaming into his arms.
Neon toxic green light lit up around his hands pushing away the darkness surrounding them. Humming.

Creating a glowing baseball bat out of his hands with ecto-energy.
The energy baseball bat lit up its ominous green glow.
Running forward. Swinging his bat. Red Robin reacted quicker than Danny had expected.
A dull, heavy sound erupted between the staff and the ecto-bat when clashing.

Red Robin was taller than Danny up close. He seemed very athletic build. Making Danny a little envious, he hadn't grown much in his length or size since he was fourteen.
Thinking back it may be because of the ectoplasm that was infused in his DNA. Would he forever look like a fourteen-year-old? Fudge cake.

”kid?!, don't interfere ” when speaking in that distorted voice Danny could hear a faint worrying tone and see a bit of a frown on the visible part of the face.

”sorry can’t do that, can’t have you fly away with nice uncle death Breath over there”
Danny pushed Red Robin back. Take a hasty side step back then place one hand on the grip. His other hand is on the barrel of the bat letting it slide down when swinging it to give it more force.
He was about to hit Red Robin’s side but instead of hitting him, it was blocked yet again by the Red Robin's staff.

Red Robin locked on Danny's arms in a flash to immobile him.
Forcing him back. Making Danny yelp in surprise but he never let go of the bat.
Having a deathly grip on it.
Danny had only fought ghosts except for the occasional ghost hunter being Phantom.
Most of his fights had been long-range except for that one time when he and that fruit loop Vlad had this sword fight.

Now that he was Danny Fenton, he had to change up the way he fights especially for protecting himself from people who know how to fight close combat.

Nevertheless, he had persisted in each battle. Stubbornness is his key method for victory.

In not wanting to fall Danny stabilized his footing by spreading his weight equally on each foot.
Feeling drained and tired Danny could feel his shaking arms after the impact. Irritated by the fact that he couldn’t fight on equal terms.
Red Robin spins his staff.
Which, looked cool.

”you seem like good kid for that I will give you some advice kid”

”and what is that?” Danny didn’t need any advice moreover a lesson but was curious about what Red Robin had to say.

”instead of accompanying criminals like him. Be with your family, they should be very worried about you”

It had seemed well-meaning when Red Robin Hood had uttered his ’advice' however at that moment. Sparks flared up in Danny, his eyebrows drew together as Danny’s expression harden.

Incoming from the front the staff came slicing thru the air. Danny had to block it using both of his hands on the bat holding it horizontal. A deep thud arose.
Danny pushed back. Tensing his muscles. Breaking away and thrusting fiercely the knob of the bat right into Red Robin’s stomach. Followed by an upward hit to his jaw. Taken aback by the shock of pain the Hero scrunched.

Taking in the opportunity Danny reconstructed the baseball bat making it wobbly and flat. Reminisce of a noodle. This noodle stretched out itself longer griping on and wrapping around Red Robin. In a surprise, the hero tried to tear it away from him. No matter how he tried it would stay unscratched and unmoved.
Squeezing him sufficiently does not too seriously harm or suffocate him but makes his body unable to move.
From mouth down to his knees was wrapt up, tied with a neat green glowing bow.

The wrapped-up Red Robin. Struggle to stand on his feet ultimately plummeting down into the sewage water floating along with the debris.

”and strike three, you’re out!!” Danny pointed at Red Robin and then gestured a thumb across his shoulder. Danny had only seen judges yell out that on tv. Making Danny want to see a baseball match again.

Who knew that his father who had taught him a little how to use the Fenton Anti-creep stick to protect himself from ghosts and creeps would come in handy.
Still, the Fenton anti-creep stick was just a regular baseball bat with the printed Fenton sticker On it. Much like any other of their invention.

His father had liked to put his stickers on things. He missed that.

Danny looked down at Red Robin wiggling like a newly hatched chick. The glowing green color of the ecto energy construction did wonders lighting up the surrounding area giving it an ominous impression.

”no need to struggle, once I'm far enough I will dissolve it and one piece of advice” Danny closed in and squats down. Glaring right into those white dots on that black mask hiding the hero's identity.

A cold silence develops only water drops clear drips eco.

Danny calmly holds his posture hunched. He could hear those tiny whispers again in the background.
He is not sure if he is the only one that can hear them but it is annoying to him.

Clicking his tongue. Draws back his attention back to Red Robin. Pressing down whatever vortex of emotions swirling up inside him when frowning upon the hero.

Inwardly, he was seething. Danny couldn’t let his thoughts be clouded.
He knew that he shouldn't.

But he does still feel it.

”don’t rug your feathers and point your beak where they don't belong,” Danny said in a neutral tone as possible not wanting it to sound too much like a threat.

Being on the bat family enemy list was nothing nobody desired.

It was time to take his leave. Leaving the hero just floating along with the debris.
Didn’t quite seem right tho it was a bit funny thinking about it.

The green soft light from the
ecto-binding touched gently not too far off. He could see Waylon skirmished by hard shadows and the soft green. Bright sandy yellow eyes gaze at him, his face obscured by those hard shadows.

Danny didn’t know Waylon’s past or what he had done. Danny had just felt comfortable with Waylon and had a sense of responsibility for him.
Besides he had grown accustomed to those grunts of irritation, finding them funny.

Danny was walking over to Waylon. His body is weighed down by wet clothes from being splashed on.

With Shuffling steps, he drags his feet. Every inch of his body feels like noodles. Forcing himself forward. His shoulders slope down.

Because of lack of energy, he squeezed his eyes shut only reopening them quickly wide enough in an attempt to stay awake a little bit longer and not tumble.

”Heya big guy, which way was it?” Danny said while yawning. His eyes throbbed.

Waylon stared down at him, showing a small frown. Without warning picked Danny up into his arms. Carrying him on one of Waylon’s arms with his face facing him.

Unsure what to think or feel about how an over seven feet tall crocodile man carried him as if he were a two-year-toddler. Strange is the word for it.

Danny was about to voice his mind. Opening his mouth. He stopped immediately from saying anything. Feeling the drowsiness overtake him.

It hasn’t been long since they had met yet, he felt calm around him.

A calmness, he didn’t know why he felt. Maybe it was because the big guy reminded him of his friend Wulf, big, Scary looking, pointy claws, both animal-themed, not so scaly but more furrier instead.
And a criminal record. There were wanted posters of him with a bounty of a million in the ghost zone. Walker’s doing. But still.

Wulf the Esperanto talking werewolf ghost.

Their first meeting hadn't been the best either with him being controlled by the ghost warden Walker with that shock collar. However, They did free him and became friends.

Danny took in the fermented grassy earthlike smell from Waylon. Resting his head on Waylon’s shoulder.
His bare skin feels thickly dense and boney but It is nicely cool.

Those annoying whispers gradually disappears. Giving Danny moment of bliss. Hearing Waylon's low and steady heartbeats. Memories of how his mother would rock him too sleep when he was little. How her voice would soothe him making him less scared.

”hush, Fais do do p’tit boug”

Whatever the Big guy said, Danny thought it would be a good idea to snooze a little to gain back energy. Yawning and closing his eyes for a small bit.

Maybe he could dream about them.

Chapter Text

Laying there floating around waste bond down by something that seems to be assembling up of strange energy. It vibrates a low soft hum.
In some way, it resembles the green lantern corps green light as it had morphed in-between forms evidently to the boy's will very much as a lantern does.

But the way it felt tugging on Tims body was completely off. The green lantern’s light feels warm and welcoming this one.

This green light regardless gives of a cold and shiver indulging sensation. Comparable to being trapped by dr.Freeze cold ice. Solid and intense.

Tim had scanned the boy when he could with his eyes, there was no ring. Baffled on the sight, he frowns.

There had been some sparks before of fury when Tim had tried to reason with him. The kid had retaliated against Tim's sincerity.

That same wimp-looking boy was stronger than he looked. Being able to both push him back and hit pretty hard.

The techniques he was using were rough around the edges. His grip was tight as if letting go would be letting go of your means to survive. Making it rigid. Tim could discern that close combat was not his fortè.

His body had shaked, had it been out of fear or aching muscles? He have not been training for a very long time using weapon. Glowing intense toxic green his eyes felt tired.

A kid was younger than Tim had overpowered him with his surprise ability only to calmly threatened him with those glowing green gazing at him digging around his soul or something.

How does he do that? Maybe he is an Alien similar to Koriand'r. His thoughts continue in an unbroken train of thought. For there was time.

A Tamaranean. It’s just that They didn’t look alike. Kori better known as Starfire is a 6’4 tall alien warrior Princess with orange skin and with wavy Auburn hair.

All tamaraneans have orange completion with some type of red in their hair. The kid did have the green glowing eyes associated with tamaraneans.

But was however around 5’10 short, a pale and skinny kid with black hair.

A meta perhaps. A newly awakened one at that. For there were no recent update on Batman’s list of meta humans that Tim has knowledge of. Bruce for how paranoid he is, have detailed not only heroic as well as villainous metahumans existence. Powers, weakness and background.

The kid could create energy by manipulating, solidifying and reconstructing it. Something he had only seen lantern's do.

The whole picture was illogical, what made it even extra absurd is Waylon Jones. The socially awkward crocodile man. Who cares little for others. Carrying away that same kid as if he was easily broken by a mere touch.
It was to weird seeing that carnivorous man showing a soft side.

For according to the reports from meetings, Waylon had with his psychiatrist and regular health check-ups.
His atavism was getting worse, affecting his brain stem. Deteriorating his psyche.

If unchecked and unsupervised who knew what kind of animalistic beast he could become.

Jason, Cassandra and Damian thought there where no need to help him.
The others including Tim thought that nobody deserves to lose their sanity.

What was those two's relationship? How do they connect to eachother?

Killer Croc, had once been a big shoot. falling down from grace he had became what befalls him.
Largely known to many of Gotham’s citizens As a coldblooded muscle for hire.

They seemed to have a friendly interaction with each other speaking about food, it was odd.

The kid had even said ’nice uncle' implying he only thought of him as a good person.
What could have made him think that?

The low soft hum stops, Tim felt how the cold and the intenseness washes away. Melting like butter.

He was free, no longer was his movements restricted by the green Light. Just like the boy had told him.

Down in the darkness he turned on the thermal camera in his mask. Clearly seeing his surroundings with different tones of blue, green, yellow and slight red. The traces from either the boy and killer Croc had gone cold.

Pondering on what to next, he decided he could see if there were any type of electromagnetic field left made by the kid.

Taking out an small boxed device made to pick up electromagnetic energy. It had been shielded to not be set off by cellphones, two-way radios, or virtually any kind of electronic device that occasionally gives off electromagnetic waves.
Scanning through the Am and Fm frequency. Looking for patterns.
There are faint statics, glitches and blurs. He records it before heading back up into the streets of little Italy.

While climbing up the manhole he smells the scent of Italian cuisine that lingers in the air.
People engage happily together in conversations across the streets and restaurants. Sheering.

He entered the south complex in Little Italy where he had parked the batcycle in a secluded part. Hiding it away from the naked eye.

Taking the batcycle, a side project Bruce had worked on in his workshop resembling the batmobile with it’s blunt and brutal shapes.
with a solid rear swingarm that would then connect to an exposed lattice-type frame found in some Ducati bikes.

Its lengthened wheelbase made it easier to track down criminals in high speed.

Bruce will probably scold him for stealing it, but that is he finds out wich he presumably will.

Putting on a helmet, safety first.
Driving full speed ahead. The batcycle engines clutch dryly and rattle.
Crackling at times in sync with his heartbeat only louder.
The smell of the hog is mixed with slight gasoline fumes. Waves of heat coming up from the engine, and the rush from the wind lift his cape as he drives.

Driving through Grant Park.

Tim hasn't been there since the No man’s land. When an earthquake of magnitude of 7.6 had hit the states. Gotham City was cut off not seen as a part united states.

We had been abandoned so easily.

Bruce had tried to solve it politically gone to appeal to the government to reconsider and not abandon them to no wail.

Mainly because of him going as Bruce Wayne and not Batman, he wasn’t taken seriously. Returning to regain the citizens trust in Batman.

Superman afford his assistance but Bruce refused. That didn’t stop him to help Gothamites any way he could. Eventually realizing he could do nothing and stayed put.

The JLA kept outer forces from invading Gotham City and took no part in controlling borders wanting to be neutral.

The freed Inmates from Arkham Asylum battled for control, likewise as the various gangs.

The remaining GPD's policemen that hadn't escaped and stayed behind fought the chaos.

It was chaotic and Anarchy ruled the streets. People were starving fighting over the most meager little thing. Money was useless at that point of time.
People took advantage of it opening up black food markets.

That’s when Pamela Isley aka Poison Ivy took over Robinson Park.
Of all the people Pamela was the one that had taken in sixteen orphans and in a deal with Bruce to leave her alone, She provided fresh food to the remaining citizens.

Oracle, Nightwing, Huntress, Azreal, Batman, Wildcat, Jim, creeper, Cassandra who took on the batgirl mantle, and Tim as Robin. They all had fought to regain their city Together with its citizens.

It was a battle for Gotham’s soul. A battle he would not forget so easily.
He was still a young robin back then.

Driving over the Sprang Bridge which connected to the east part of East End. Crossing through Robbinsville’s silent roads.

He should have called Dick as a backup since Blüdheaven was close or any other member of the family for that matter but he had made the poor decision that he wasn’t a kid anymore and had wanted to handle it on his own. He had been confident in his skillset and preparations.
The unknown factor of the kid had hindered Killer Crocs’ capture. Only delaying it for now.

At the Batcave, he parked the batcycle. Meeting the old and gentle Englishman he had come to see as a grandfather.

”I hope your trip has been fruitful master Tim”

”Not really Alfred”

”than master Tim shall I prepare a late midnight snack then?”

”could you make me a cup of coffee instead Alfred please?” Tim pleaded as good as he could. But he was no match for the experienced Alfred Pennyworth.

”no, certainly not Master Tim, four cups a day is enough, I retrieve a good chamomile tea to ease your nerves and biscuits”

Defeated by the old butler Tim made his way to a familiar seat next to giant screens and a strange set of keyboard panels. Typing and downloading his findings into to giant computer. While waiting, watching a smaller screen of pre-recorded video linked to his suite and the batdetector.

A new invention by Lucius Fox.

An invention That would send live video feedback and together with echolocation when recognizing in coded profiles tracking their whereabouts.

Bruce had installed them on important key points of Gotham city in the sewers. He had always been a few steps ahead. That’s how he had been found.

Right now he was out of its reach.
He wanted his coffee.

Question remains in his mind, why would Croc go up north? What was his goal? And who or what was that kid?

*bleep*
There’s soft bleep notified him. Dragging him out of questions.

The autopsies for a peculiar case had just recently come in.
No traces of outer violence.

No sign of a mixture that consisted of dopamine, yohimine , carbogen, 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, L-34-dihydroxyphenylalanine, and corticotropin. Like initial, he had thought.
Letting his suspiciousness toward Johnathan Crane go but not excluding the former Arkham professor from the excavation.

Evidence of the adrenaline level higher than normal enough to lead to cardiac arrest.
An large amount of calcium percentage is found in the hearts cells in the victims' essentially calcifying and the freezing of their hearts to happend.

In the response to increased levels of adrenaline and calcium. The hearts had ballooned in certain places and contracted in others causing the hearts to look like an octopus trap.

Loss of blood pressure, restricting the organs from fully functioning making them stop completely.

In three weeks three middle-aged men, decently healthy had died out of fright and been stripped of their clothes. Why?

One thing that it fails to mention is on the most recent victim that was found around G.lighthouse.
An unknown glowing green substance had been caught on a few strands of hair. Luckily Dick had been on the scene first taking samples for Tim.

Upon first getting the sample and opening up the containment. Tim had smelled a strong musty herbal and spicy odor Burning his nostrils.

Dick had laughed at him like the dick he was.

He had needed the computer to analyze it but the process is slow. It had reached 20%.

Glowing green phlegm and an unknown kid with green glowing energy, thoughts alleviated him if those two things were connected in any way.
Once the analysis is done he will run a check if it has an identical energy structure. It couldn't just be a coincidence.

He really wanted a cup of coffee right now to ease his nerves.

**************

That little bird had thrown that grenade at his feet, distorting his sight and hearing when that explosion went off.
It had been painful but it was light unlike the pain of biting off your own hands to escape. Even for a moment only being able to use his sense of smell. The difference in smell is like night and day. The stank of that flash grenades smoke subsided, that little birdy smelt a sweet scent.

Waylon don't like sweets. It would always remind him of his aunt. How she would shove her scornfull face with sweets and alcohol while forcing him to scrub his scaly skin off. Leaving his skin bloody and sore.

Furious, Waylon had slammed his fists towards that scent.
That little ’crapeau' kept avoiding his attacks.

It was a stalemate

Waylon who had stood by on the sideline. Gathered back his senses as his healing ability operated. He studied the moment of the outcome. Thinking hard.

In the beginning, he had been furious believing, that the little skinny runt had double-crossed him. Just like any another human filth. Waylon didn’t like it when he get humiliated.
He should had listen to his instinct about leaving the kid to his own devices right there on the porch.
That the kid, who was one of those hero fanboys. Had taken sides with those annoying rats. That’s what he had initially thought. At first.

It should have been so. Instead, it was the opposite. It was confusing.

Throwing away that lantern Right at that stupid bird and start fighting with some type of green glowing stick or baseball bat thing. Coming into existence came from nowhere. Whatever it was it had a sense of eerieness.

The runt wasn't an ordinary little ’merde’ he knew that from the start. Listening to his intuitions. He was right.

The kid had called him ’gentli oncles’ it was strange being called that. He wasn't good, he has done many horrible things. He even relished the fact that he was feared for a reputation of being a killer.
Still, he is a human even if he may not act like it or have the appearance of one.

The sewer air had been humid and pleasantly warm. To Waylon’s liking. When that ’vert bâton' appeared, it had felt cold. A sudden drop of the temperature was strange.

Those two talked and the runt got angry. It ended with that glowing stick doing some numbers on that bird brain. Serves him right. That little shit has always been trouble for him.

Waylon chuckled as he saw that red Robin being wrapped up like a present by that glowing ’vert bâton' turning into some type of worm thing. Falling with a small splash.
It was like that time when he had bounded the robin down on his car a few during the no mans land year. Using the young Robin as human meat shield. The police throwed gasses at him and his crew.

The kid had hunched down telling the red robin from what Waylon could understand to BUZZ OFF and that he should watch his back or else. Something in that way he guessed, the kid were using bird puns for crying out loud.

Those puns of his will be the death of him. He snorted out of pure apathy.

When the kid rose and began to walk toward him.

The kid didn’t look good, with droopy tired eyes. The kid almost falls asleep while catching himself by a hair strand.
His legs could give in any moment, the runts speak pattern being slow and THAT!! freaking smell that keeps coming back. ’Putain! Ça me saoule!’

Waylon can’t stop frowning and narrowing his eyes. Making a bellow growling. Straightening his back.

There where something ticking inside of him.

Stretching down his arms, picking up the runt. Remembering how too gently hold the kiddo just like his ’nanan' had done for him.
It was awkward holding someone gently and not crushing them.
The kid was noticeably small in Waylon's muscular arms.

Waylon noticed how the runt also felt awkward but gave in to his tiredness, resting his head on Waylon’s shoulder.

”hush, fais do do P’tit boug”.

He felt soft breathing running down his neck. Hearing heartbeats slow down. The runt relaxed his limbs.
Waylon turned his head and looked at the boy fast asleep on his shoulder.
Then stared down, gazing at the red bird nuisances. His fingers twitched. The prey was laying there helpless. Bounded down, unable to fight back just like a newborn hatchling.

He could feel a strong desire to feed his growing appetite.
Decided against it, the kid was the one to take down the bird bastard. Not him. Grunting.

Waylon started walking away thinking he needed to get out of the sewers for the time being, for if one little rat can find him down here then the rest of the group will come and create a mischief.

Knowing all nooks and crannies of the sewage system. Had there advantage.
He knew the best shortcuts and easy as well as the hard routes.
He knew all the little secrets the sewage had to offer. He just couldn’t move as freely while carrying the youngster.

He needed to find a place to hide just for a moment until the kid woke up. Besides there was something else, he didn’t known much but there was a thing poking him.

Sure the kid didn’t look good when he first saw him on his porch. Heck, he had just know the kid for a couple of hours. Getting himself involved with that runt might lead to more trouble.
Its just that it did feel like something was off. He looked at the sound asleep teenage boy. Breathing slowly.
Leaving the kid hanging. Breaking an promise wasn't his kind of style when it came too doing things.

Walking along continuing going deeper north, the kid had said he lived in the Bowery district. Going to that hay doll's Territory would make a good exercise and maybe he could get his hands on Zsasz, that ’zut alors' serial killer still haven’t paid for what he did to Stumpy his friend.

They come to an open space where multiple water pipes spew out sewage water. The rush from running water muzzle any other type of sound.
Far across is a door and a crooked metal ladder leading up to a small platform with damaged railings.
He was making sure the kid was still sleeping. Having water levels up to his hips as he walks towards the staircase. Drenching his pants.
Readying his body only to jump over the railings, one hand clutching to the wall when imbracing impact. Digging right into the concrete. Upon releasing his grip pieces of the wall crumble. Shattered over the platform.
The part of the wall that prevailed be intact is decorated with finely scratched symbols. Firstly a circle and over it is a line slanting across.
The second one is made up of three lines connecting, forming an incomplete rectangle.
The third and last was just a big circle with a cross in it.

Putting his free hand on the door handle and opening it up. Revealing a stairway leading up. Eagerly taking his steeps.

Above, electric cables journeying up on the ceiling following the stairway path.
Almost to the top light flickered on showing a fading green metal door at the end. It had aged by the years with rust taking over it’s corners.
It is easily opened when Waylon drags the handle down and gently pushes it up.
Light proceed to wash beyond the metallic door.

he transcended over to where light emits. finding himself in a room.
A room that has grey lockers with orange doors being placed along the walls and benches standing in the middle of the room.
Old dirtied Tyvek 800 J coveralls hung on hangers fastened to the wall.
The hooded coveralls have stitched and over-taped seams. Thumb loops. Are elastic at the wrists, ankles, and face. Its waist is elastic fitting even the skinnies human. Self-adhesive zipper and chin flap. All in white or what used to be white.

Helmets lay carefully on the benches with flashlights attached to them.

Cracks making themselves known on the concrete floor. Long industrial lamps hung from the ceiling

At one end a doorway is opened without a door giving glimpses of black and white tiles, a few showerheads stuck right out of these tiles. Bits and pieces of those tiles are missing.

Around the corner to the right is a door that is barely holding up, hanging skew on a sole hinge keeping it in place. A damp musky smell looms over the locker room.

Full of confidence he walks determined through the doorway to the right, walking into a corridor.

The color amber is painted on the walls. In framed pictures of people wearing helmets and Tyvek overalls smiling.
The slogans ’we don't waste our time' or ’Join DSGC for a clean start' are plastered all over them.

The same industrial lamps that of in the locker room hung from the ceiling.
At the end of the corridor is a closed wooden door.

Waylon first knocks on the wooden door when not getting any answers, he enters. Hunching down not to hit his head on the door frame.

While inside Waylon gaze around seeing two fridges. The same amber color covers the walls just like the hallway.
A kitchen counter complete with a sink, drawers, and a dishwasher. Above the sink are closed kitchen doors and two well-used microwaves. Lastly a closed door to his left.

From the middle to the right.
There’s a coffee machine that stands along the wall close to one of three round tables with five chairs each. On each of the tables bowls of fruits together with spices are in the middle of the tables.
The room was without any dirtied surface or dust not even a smudge on the radiators.

One could say that the blue flax floor sparkles.
Unlike the locker room which had a damp and musky smell, this kitchen only had a scent of spicy food.

Waylon focused his attention on a green couch further away in a corner next to a bookshelf filled with books and a little paperweight dog figure. Putting down the runt causally on the couch.
He felt the nearly none existing weight leave him from his shoulder.
Still sleeping soundly without waking up. The kid moved a little probably dreaming something good when showing that thin smile of his.

Turning away towards the sink washing his hands with soap. Shaking off water to dry his hands. The fridge were his next goal as he opens it up taking out a deep bowl filled with eggs.
Closing the fridge door. Putting down the bowl on a table. Sitting down on a chair cracking one egg on its bottom on the table while thereafter peeling off the cracked eggshell pieces.

It’s been a long time since he was here at one of the Department of Sanitation Gotham City rest stations.

Nobody would expect him to take hiding here. There could be hours or days before anyone else set their foot here.

Sanitation workers roam either alone or with three people in a group. It varied to different degrees depending on which job.

Their job is somewhat hazardous.

Not only do they often work alone in cramped paces in the dark, but they are also just regular humans facing rats, snakes, occasional crocodiles, always being wet, risking catching diseases, working with hazardous garbage materials, and that idiotic ratcatcher wanting cheese as a tribute to his darling rats.

One day he will strangle that Rat loving maniac.
He just wished he was the one who had dealt with that self-proclaimed ’sewer king' instead it was Bruno Mannheim and Charlie Brown.
He wouldn’t been so Mercyful as Ugly and kite.

That asshole not only kidnapped orphans but also miss treated them to the point even that ’Putain De rat' wanted him cold.

There are things he just couldn’t tolerate.

Waylon didn’t mind them workers in the sewage, cleaning it up from time to time. It was more welcoming than anything. Getting rid of some junk was fine by him.

He did respect they’re taking no shit attitude from any party keeping a neutral stance.

Knowing they would have a hassle working if they do ever piss off the wrong guy. But all they ever wanted to do was to do their tasks without any problems.

Both parts have a mutual understanding which lead him to crash down there when he needed it and in return, he did them favors.

He was the best option among other sewer dwellers.

Maybe if he wasn’t so set on continuing his crime spree then he could had become the best sanitation worker that have prowled the sewers.
The salary did range from $17,320 to $34,750 with the average wage being around $23.00 per hour. With his skill set, he could triple the payroll.

Waylon chuckles at the mere thought of getting paid for what he already does for a living seeing the irony of it.

He peels two more eggs, spicing them up with cayenne pepper before bitting on its squishy whites and yolks.

Rustling and murmurs could be heard from the couch. Waylon glanced over narrowing his eyes making them sharp.

The runt was moving, twisting and turning. The kid's nose wrinkles, forehead furrowed. Tightening their lips. Sweating. Mumbles incoherent sentences. Still sleeping.

Chapter Text

All is white, wherever he looks is a vast void of blinding whites. He is alone. There’s no scent.
Sitting down on what appears to be the floor. There was neither cold nor warmth just Deadly silence. Danny felt a strong sense that he couldn’t put it into words.

An essence of nothing.

Well, there’s is something a small black Panasonic PV M1369 17 CRT television. Compact with a VHS player. Besides, it is two stacks of VHS tapes.
Danny takes one tape and puts it in. Pressing the power button turning on the tv.

Light flashes before him. He hears how a cheery rapper intro grows.
How he was just fourteen when his parents built a very strange machine.
It was designed to view, a world unseen.
It was weird hearing about his life and seeing captions of the event that laid out his accident making him a halfa seen as comic relief.

The song ends and a title card starts up with his friends Tucker and Sam in one corner terrified covered in a blue tone.

A hallway reminiscent of Casper High’s own corridors with it’s lockers. Picturing himself as his ghost self going through a humanoid meat monster. A brown colored text with yellow inverted, spells out ’mystery meat' ’starring Danny Phantom'.

This is the first of many tapes.

Playing one after the other. Felling more alone and weirded out than ever watching his past right before him. Tensing up whenever he got to see his friends and family.

Seeing his friend Tucker in his trademark red beret. Yellow long-sleeved shirt, black glasses, and the backpack he always is carrying. His green cargo pants and those brown boots with a goofy grin. Holding one of his gadgets.

Beside him is Sam.

Short black hair with a little ponytail at the back of her head. Her fierce violet eyes concentrated on Tucker with Her signature frown.

Purple lipstick, her clothing consists of a black choker around her neck, a black top that exposes her midriff with a purple oval in the center, purple tights, and black combat boots. She wears her favorite pair of black bracelets around both of her wrists.

Sam massages the bridge between her eyes and sighs in frustration towards one of Tuck's jokes.

Danny couldn’t help but smile at his friends. It was a blast from the past.

There where one last tape it came right after ’Reality trip' he hesitated.
Stare on its blank surface.

Danny stared intensely at himself on the screen standing before a gray door. Inhaling and then exhaling deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. Nervously fiddling with his hands.
Frozen on the very steps of Fenton works.

Hesitating.

The Fenton household is the only building that has a large chamber on its roof in Amity Park. The emergency ops center is where the ghost operations are carried out from.
Housing the ghost shield and the Fenton blimp.
The ops center's satellite receivers could detect any spectral anomalies within Amity Park.

His back had hunched down. His pupils shook. Danny remembered how scary it was to face the front of his family home.

The day he told them. It had been a couple of days after the whole Freakshow and the reality gauntlet incident. Only he knew since he was the one to erase the whole world’s memories backing two days before Freakshow took hold of that gauntlet Wrecking havoc.

He made sure only his friends and Jazz were the only ones to remember his secret.
Destroying that gauntlet afterward with a ghost ray. It was too dangerous and too powerful to have around.

Tho this incident had been a mess, back then it had given him the determination for that moment.

It is so ingrained in his psyche, that he still thinks about it.

He had turned the door noob and walked in slowly.

The sound of deep well-known laughter had caught him off-guard.
Danny saw an all too familiar woman in a teal hazmat suit tampering with one of their inventions. A big and bulky frame with the color orange came up into his view. He had a Glee full smile.
The large masculine yet gentle hand had ruffled his hair messing it up. Like the way, his dad had always done.

Danny had called his parents by their first given name gaining their full attention.
Usually, he wouldn't do that, but he had wanted them not to dismiss him.
He asked them to take a sit on the couch. That he needed to tell them something.

His sister Jazz had been close by in the kitchen, noticeable worried over her younger brother holding a Jack O’ Nine Tails ready. If things were to go south. She had insisted on it. She poked her head out in determination to protect him.

Knowing his sister he knew he couldn’t stop her from doing so.
She kinda had inherent that part from their mother.

”Mom, Dad there is.. something I..I had kept fro..m you two” scratching the back of his neck and keeping the rest of his body closed. His eyes darted away from theirs. Being nervous to talk further.

Both parental figures had glanced at each other with worried expressions than at Danny who had fumbled on his words.

His mother Maddie's ever so soft hand touched Danny’s arm. Gently compelling Danny's attention on her. Maddie’s calm royal purple eyes and touch eased his nerves. They were his parents.

”honey, you know we love you no matter whatever crazy shenanigans teenagers do nowadays”
”yes, Danny-O! we are your parents, if you can not trust us then who can you trust”

Danny had felt guilty for his friends had known it from the start. While Jazz was the one who followed all the clues. This was the only time he deliberately would tell someone.
They had accepted him once before.

”I I'm.. I'm the ghost boy” he had said it as if he was seven years old that had confessed to having been snatching candy from the store.

First came Silence then came the dreaded disbelieving expressions.
He told them everything starting with the portal accident and gradually working up to the present.

How he had fought ghosts both in the human world as well as in the ghost zone in detail. How he had made friends with some ghosts and enemies with others. Revealing every lie and excuse.
He watched his parents go from a range of feelings.

Confusion, anger, sorrow, horror, revulsion, worry, and remorse.

He had been prepared for the worst.

Loving arms formed a protective barrier around him. Embracing him.
His parents had grasped him saying that they were proud of him. That he was such a hero. His mother Maddie had kissed his checks.
Speaking softly about how sorry they were repeatedly, again and again.
That they will try to make up for all the things they had put him through. They were happy and pained by guilt at the same time.

At that moment it felt so real.

Danny remembered the feeling of clumps clumping together in his throat rendering him unable to speak.
Their Touch, smell, and their voices, he remembers it all too well. He had returned their embrace. Hugging them tightly.

In his mind back then he was once again he was that little boy who was scared of big bad ghosts hiding under his bed and his parents’ bargaining in full armored with anti-ghost equipment.
They were both ready to shoot anything that moves. It made him feel safe and happy at that point.

Another embrace had joined in, fiery orange locks tickled his nose. Her intelligent and understanding aqua-colored eyes were locked on him.

Danny’s eyes swelled up from tears that burst out of his tear docks.

A painful screech is all that he managed. An unbelievable heavyweight in his heart had been carried away. Replaced by a fluttering feeling.

Just for a minute, they were all together again.

He paused it by pressing a button.
Carried his hands onto the television hugging it, afraid that they will disappear on him if he lets go. They had said it was okay, that they would there for him.

Danny buried his face onto the screen, wanting to keep this paused moment like this forever. Keeping the memory of their warm and loving embrace alive.

However, this was a dream.

None of them were alive, Danny knew that.

But.

Danny wanted to hear his father talk endlessly about his inventions only to end it with corny jokes. Which he gleefully spewed out. Just one more joke.

He needed to be scolded by his mother for not doing his homework in time only to have her help with it.
Just one more lecture.

He wished to start small sibling bickering with his sister Jazz over her analyzing his psychological well-being because she cares.
Just one more fight.

Just one more time was all that he wanted. He had never asked for much. Just a little more time with them is enough for him.
He had been a good boy right?. He wasn't perfect, but he had done good things. Helping humans as well as ghosts.
He had sacrificed so much, he had thrown his body into battle even when odds were up against him.

Was it not enough?

Didn’t he deserve a little bit of happiness?

Maybe not, since he was the catalyst for all this misery. It was his fault.

Rumbles erupt. Bits and pieces crack apart. Replaced by buzzing white and black dots. Danny watches in horror how fragments of his surroundings shatter.
Desperately stretching out his hand wildly pressing the release button that would eject the VHS tape.
Hurried to grab that videotape clenching it to his chest and running away.

The cracks follow tightly after him. Hunting him. Buzzing whites and black form humanoids trying to catch him. Haggard and old. Their skin sags, only nearly resembling a pitiful attempt to look human. Their appendages stretch out long and gangly, ending in sharp like nails.
Cape-like wings spread out taking on their hunt to the air. Shifting and twisting into a disturbing version of a crooked murder of giant black ravens.
Danny avoids them to the best of his ability. Panting madly. Gaining scratches on his face and arms. Tears on his clothes from sharp talons trying to grasp at him. Running out of breath. Those twisted things howl an unnerving high pitch cry. Sending shivers down his spine.

More of the creatures lay up ahead before him. He dodges the obstacles in his way but only to be caught by a lanky talon with sharp claws. Grabbing his leg.
Making him fall. Falling into a sort of black-ish water. Currents dragging him down. Hands grab onto him.
Terrified he tries to vigorously kick them away. They just keep coming, clutching and pulling on him. Sharp nails sank into his flesh.

An immense pressure squeezes his body pushing him further down. He didn’t want to give in. He desperately clawed at those hands. His throat was burning.
No matter how hard he struggled he went further down with more hands wrapping around him tearing the videotape from him.
Danny fought hard to gain back his last happy memory of them.
Madly battling back becoming tired and numb. Disorderly reached after it.
His body felt heavy making him essentially unable to move. As his sight begins to fade, He can’t breathe.

Danny wakes up to a *thump* *thump*. Gasping after the air.

He quickly rose, sitting on what seemed to be a green couch.
Pain pierced his chest. His hands clenching his clothes right above his heart.
He felt his heart speeding like crazy as if it was about to jump out of his chest.
His breath is heavy and short yet very fast, every time he inhaled air his throat would burn.
Cold and wet sweat ran down his pale skin. Cooling his shaking body.
Danny’s eyes darted wildly in panic. Not recognizing this amber-colored lit room where He was in. The last thing he recalled was the fight.

”Oye, boug big breaths” Danny hears the growling voice that is easy to identify.

That voice is a bit funny when thinking about it.
It kinda was a mixture of his aunt Alicia's accent and his teacher Mr. Lancer's voice smashed together. Weird combination.
Strange to say at least. Listening to the calm and collected voice of his teacher and the sound of holding a ball of cotton at the back of their mouth which his auntie Alicia would sound like.
The Mitch match of those two aspects helped him focus on his breathing, and calming down. Regardless momentarily shaken up by his dream.

It had felt so real with him struggling in that black water. Being chased by whatever those things were.
Unable to protect a part of his good memories.
If Jazz had been right there she would console him and analyze his dreams saying that it is his unconsciousness telling him something important.
That ignoring it would harm him in some way.

Danny simply didn’t want to think about it. He preferred it to fade away.

Out of sight, out of mind.

There was just that, he couldn't shake it off completely. That feeling about a part missing from him, left him incomplete.

Danny saw Waylon was not far away sitting on a chair next to a round table holding and peeling off eggshells from an egg.
A bowl with eggs stood on the table close to him.

”Ca c'est bon” Waylon looked satisfied with a less tense stare.
Those broad shoulders were relaxed. His big composed back rested on the chair's back making his surroundings feel small in comparison.

”now boug either you eat or bleat” Waylon had put his words like a suggestion yet it was more in tone to an order. Throwing Danny the egg he was peeling.

Danny clumsily caught it with both hands. Touching the soft squishy skin. Carefully holding it. Not wanting his unsteady hands to lose grip of it.
Eggs were a God sent with many uses, when hardboiled it is a great source of warmth.
Warming up your cold hands. Its shell could be dried and smashed into a powder providing a good source of calcium when mixed with safe water.
The lack of hygentic products when living a homeless life is always a problem.
If they didn’t have baking soda or ash leftovers then the raw egg was a good option.
One of the younger kids had shown him how to rub it in and wash it away only with cold water. Using warm water would make it clot. Not that it did matter since the only water they had was cold.
A good source of protein and fat that could either be steered and mixed around with other ingredients.

Tho coming across an handful of unscratched nice eggs was considered good fortune.

”I think both are on my menu order,” Danny said jokingly gaining snarls as result.
He began chewing on the egg. Felt the soft and tender texture roll around in his mouth. He wanted to savor the taste before gobbling it up in one go. Waylon threw him two more eggs which Danny appreciated.
Danny had been hungry, ever since that morning at the alleyway.

”soo this... is nice, two dudes hanging around eating eggs together” now more energetic having at least three eggs in his belly. Slowly he could feel his healing having a boost. Feeling a tingling. Finally something was going his way.

”boug”

Danny starred dumbfounded on Waylon who pushed his upper body forward letting his head lean on his clutched together fists while his elbows rests onto his knees. He gave a serious glare at Danny, that was off-putting. Watching Danny with intensive pressure.

Somehow he felt compelled to speak yet being unable to answer.
What could he say? Maybe he should think things thru more carefully before acting up in the moment.
Was Waylon going too asking about the scenario of waking up to panicking frenzy or the green glowing bat.
Danny wanted it to be the second option. It was easier to explain. He could just say that he was a metahuman. Does being half-ghost count as being meta?
He had learned about the word meta. It had been his first week staying with old Gus and the others.
Reading old newspapers, to get a sense of where and when he was.

The date had set him three years in the future. So he had thought.
Things had changed drastically while he had been transported through the vacuum and space.
With superheroes fighting supervillains like in those comics.
It was weird how many of them had spanned over decades before his accident without him finding out. Maybe it was because his hometown had alwaysys been stuck in its bubble.
It never did change that much and being a hotspot for ghosts had him busy from finding out.

There had been a column in a newspaper from Daily planet about metahumans, the guestwriter had gone on a rant about how metahumans had powers unlike ordinary people, which made them dangerous.

He had agreed somewhat.

That any type of power in anyone’s hands could lead to the devastating destruction of civilizations thats true. He had seen it and had experienced the consequences. How one little choice or mishap could turn everything upside down and rec havoc.
Dark Dan is the constant reminder of what he could be, and what destruction he could cause. And it scares him.

Another thing he had noticed when digging for information. Was that Amity park didn’t exist. Not even one little speck of mention or evidence of his hometown amity park in Illinois ever existed.
There was however an Amityville in New York. He presumed the GIW had something to do with it.
Since they are a government-founded organization they had the means to erase Amity park from history and make it geographically none existent.

There’s no information about neither off him or the very people he loved. There was no one too remember them but him.

He was the only one left.

”boug cut that CRAP!!”

Danny was startled by the sudden rise of a seemingly irritated and borrowed voice. The be honest uncle death breath needs to find a bit of mint paste. It was beginning to look like he would pop some veins. But Danny can’t blame him.
Danny had unknowingly drifted away in his thoughts in the middle of their conversation. It was not his meaning to do that. So technically it was not his fault.
Recently past these two months, his mind had been occupied by his thoughts coming more frequently. Wandering than shatters like broken glass.
Danny lowered his vision staring at his still somewhat shaken hands.
They felt empty. Uncomfortable. Itching to do something. To hold something.
Carving his wooden figures fixed his focus, holding the recurring thoughts retained.
It had given him the crucial means to feel at comfort. A sense of stillness. Empty from swirling and twirling emotions.
He looked up to the gigantic reptilian man, sensing his assertive presence looming over the room. In front of Danny not budging an inch from his seat.
Calmly glaring without uttering a word. There’s a point when Waylon begins to loosen up taking in a deep breath.

” I won't be a fool and drag ya by the Caisse boug, you know what I am?” Waylon’s eyes tense keeping a firm form.

”Red Robin talked about taking you back to Arkham Asylum, so I guess yes” Danny scratched the back of his head. Resiting the details. He also remembered Red Robin talked about a poker buddy. But that wasn’t important.

”yeah So what, its not like you have hurt me or anything” he tilted his head and pouted.

Waylon closed his eyes, and murmured silently his thoughts to himself. Open them up showing his sandy yellow diluted eyes.
”knowing that oiseau rouge, he will hunt ya down, Likewise those rats, they have this rule about no metas in Gotham”
There was a seriousness to Waylon's voice.
Danny has been hunted by the ghosts like Skulker and ghost hunters. It was nothing new. There were always tricks to avoid either of them. He knows how dangerous it can be. It was just.

There were ghost stories the older kids would use to scare the younger kids at Strand station.
Saying that Batman was some kind of long-forgotten Indian bat deity that punish wrongdoers even long before settlers came into the land and built up the founding grounds of Gotham City.
Telling that If they didn’t behave he would come at night and steal their toes. The toe part is definitely made up. Yet very effective. Keeping those kids in line. It was simply that Rosé as Mrs.Potts didn't find it fun ones finding out.
In turn, it leads to the two matriarchs scolding the older kids for telling the small children those tales. Earning them a week of cleaning duty.

Stories are stories but some of it is roted in truths.
The thing was, not knowing what the big bad bat is. It was unsettling. Danny had to keep himself invisible from the bats.
There were already enough things on his plate. Danny didn’t want to have Batman or any of his associates on his tail. Messing around. They could make the situation worse by stirring the pot.

”No biggy, it’s not like they have a big inferiority complex compacted into a steampunk package that screams welp every two seconds trying to skin you alive just to have a pelt decoration, tho I would make a fabulous ornament”

Danny smiled at his morbid inside joke. Making his gesture a bit too dramatically exhibit the bad actor skill of his.
Tucker would be proud and Sam would just shake her head in disapproval but secretly love it.
On the other hand gruncle gator, didn’t seem as frill About it. Opposite actually.
It was as if his eyes were caught on fire. If it weren’t for his stagnant manner and thick scaly skin.
One would think that Waylon had eaten a bucket of bolts.

”you took on the role of being a guide to an unknown teenager. Bad Jokes, movie references, and whining sprinkled with teenage angst are included in the job description”

”heh says the skinny mullet, who dragged their sorry ass to my porch”

Waylon was right, it occurred to Danny that he had caused a bit of trouble for the big guy. In a form of small birdy. He had been patient and not thrown a fit. Tho there was that moment going through his stuff.
That was not cool. Private stuff do not touch ever. Other than that Waylon was a chill guy helping him. Even if he is the living meme of a grumpy cat.

”that’s true thank you”
Danny was truly grateful, bringing forth a soft smile. Waylon’s eyes widened. Looking perplexed.
Reckoning about a thing or two before turning to a comfortable position on his chair. His head laid back facing upward toward the ceiling, one big hand covering the reptilian like face.

”boug you better not get caught, until your dept is paid.” his tone was tired. Danny nods agreeing to Waylon's statement. Watching the big fellow mumbling in the line of ”zut alors, mal de tête”.

Danny wasn't going to get caught this time around. Never again.

********

Tension had built up to a throbbing ache radiating across Waylon's forehead. One thing after another. Feeling tired and irritated.
This runt had no sense of endangerment. Even when knowing the one in front of them is a hard boild criminal, an enemy of the bats.
This kid didn’t seem to care. The boy's relaxed and cheerful attitude towards him hadn't changed.
There’s a very clear difference from before when the kid had waked up frantically grasping for air. Both eyes and his body had shaken. Utterly terrified.
Must have been one hella of a terrible nightmare. The scene had felt uncomfortable to Waylon.

Waylon stared at the runt stuffing their mouth with eggs.
His cheeks were entirely rounded and filled to the edge, giving chipmunks run for their nuts.

He didn’t know what this little runt could do or how powerful he was.
But having the runt's terrified expression stuck in his memory. It had resembled himself back then when he himself was a fragile pischouette.
When he turned seven, he had a very chilling nightmare, it scared him shitless so he had gone to seek comfort with that putain bonne a Brienne who was his aunt.
That woman had ridiculed him and taunted him saying things like ’how could a hard skined freak be such a delicate wuss’ and ’scare it away with your ugly demonface'.

That night he stayed up sleepless curling into a ball clutching to the teddy aligator caimon he got from his nanan.

Sure those darn Rats wouldn't hurt a p’tit boug like the runt badly or none at all.
If they could avoid it. Following a hero code or whatnot. Except for the newest robin and that bâtard fou. They have a tendency to use brute force.

It was weird how that oiseau rouge just so happened to be at that place waiting.
There hadn't been something out of the ordinary. No smell or sound that doesn’t belong there. Except for the runt's rahdoht.

Going through the sewers is not optimal for the time being. Until he figures out what was the cause of it. There is a chance that it is a gadget alerting them about his movements. He will find it later and eradicate it leaving only pieces.

The problematic situation is expanding as he also had to think of a strategy to get the kid home without exposing himself to the public eye. He didn’t want to get caught and put back into Arkham.

Waylon's headache grows to sharpen as he thought. Snarling out of pure spite of annoying things increasing.
He catches glimpse of the meek kid gazing at him with those cold big blue eyes.
His face is framed by long strands of raven locks hanging along while the rest of his hair is braided. There’s still little baby fat left on those cheeks. Those eyes kept sipping beneath Waylon’s hard skin. He felt a chilling sting in his chest. Pulling him.

”hey gruncle, you look extra grumpy got pebbles in your shoe or what?” the kid lifting his eyebrows.

”none of yer business” Waylon growled, massaging his temple between his eyes.
The kid's eyes then widen a small instance, sparkling.
Pulling up his bag made out of pants on his lap. Reaching down a hand and starting to search through it. When finding whatever he was looking for the runt made a mischievous grin. Taking out what seems to be a chart of medicine tablets labeled aspirin. Three tablets were left unopen.

The kid lay it on the table, in front of Waylon. He was thinking of rejecting the token, normal amount of medicine didn’t have much effect on him.
One of his large statures needs a larger quantity and stronger quality to feel any type of improvement or result. Besides, it would go away on its own.
So It was useless to him.

However, picked it up and put it in one of his pockets. Looking away from the youth. ”your loss boug” he said while claiming himself a childish triumphant in return, the runt lifted his hands in the air signaling defeat with open palms.
”hey, losing is part of life" the runt had spoken in a cheerful tone, chuckling, downplaying the significance of losing yet those blue eyes told a different story.

They were eerie, frigid and dark. A Cold wolf winter night that swallows any traveler foolish enough to venture across the frozen land.
Forever concealing the cursing cold away and silently from naked eyes under a cover of crystal blue shades described them best.

How a skinny teen possessed such eyes was beyond him and nothing he wanted to ponder about.

If Waylon had hair and normal skin, he would have goosebumps.

It was not the time to immerse in ridiculous things like that. He couldn't go out looking like he does now. An exposed bum. There was perhaps clothing he could use in the locker room.

Pushing back the chair he sat on, he stood up and with a stern look glanced over the kid.
”Yeux bleus, I will be back soon read a book or something” he waved his hand and carried out himself with confidence.
Not looking back and opening the door to the hallway is. Stroud right through it into the locker room.

He knew where to start. Going to the furthest and closest to the showers. Opening it and finding one oversized black hoody and a facemask in Ray Lewis's locker.
Ray had kept it as momentum from the time he had been one hella extra-large boug. It was perfect for him to use.

Picking one yellow Tyvek 800 J overall that would fit his size. Along with boots.
Put on them coverall first stopping only to his midsection knotting its arms around his waist. Next was the hoody and facemask. No gloves where fitting his hands. He would have to hide them.

He went back to the kid, now he was ready to stir up shit.

Chapter Text

The year 1634 established the Dutchman Paul De Vries the first settlement named De Vries village and occupies that is now well known as ’Old city' in the eastern section of ’Queenlands park'. Throughout the 17th and 18th centuries, it prospered as a seaport of Metropolis.

West river fills with light from newly established buildings across the central business district and the clear reflection of the old town seaport in it.
Boats of various sizes create waves piercing the water reflections. Some of those boats drift off on their way past terminals to go down towards the North bridge and beyond it.
There is still reminiscent of old age in some warehouses. Rusting away.
One by one they are slowly demolished and replaced with new and more modern ones with tougher security.

Storage containers are stacked on top of each other making row after row with them. Cranes that work hard During the day stay silent throughout the night.
Water gushing and ripples against the port’s cement platform.
The sea salt odor ingrains itself in the atmosphere.

Cold wind blows from the west following towards the east.

Guards walk around carrying flashlights. One old guard who takes pride in his work patrol further on the east sides of the port.
Usually, the newbie of them would do it, due to it being the furthest away. It was also the easiest to patrol but the new guy had called in sick in the morning. So the old guard took on the responsibility of checking it out.

It was a calm night not much is happening. Its clear air and starry night sky give an atmosphere of speechlessness.
Taking a stroll making sure all locks are okay delivered satisfaction to him.

Yet in the corners of his eyes, he sees two sets of different lights one with a sparkling golden hue. The other glimmered ominous in various tones of green. Among a row of containers.

He hears fizzling sounds mixed in with metallic rustles. Thoughts of someone trying to break into one of the containers aroused the old guard.
Picking up his radio and silently spoke to sending his coordinates requesting back up for a potential robbery.
As he neared in It didn’t make any sense to him when massive gushes of wind blew in all directions violently when getting closer.

Chaotically lashing out like whips.
Right from the spot where the lights are appearing. He felt how his body got scratched as those gusts lash out near him. Pushing him back.

Two shadows stretched out one human and the other one long and spindly.
There is a feeling of chill creeping down his spine when that spindly figure called out a screech. The old man was a simple human guard he couldn’t dare go further. He wanted to turn around and run but his legs wouldn't let him. having the same aspects as wobbling noodles ready to give in.

“É𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖒, 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖉𝖍 𝖙ú 𝖆𝖌 𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖕. Ó𝖎𝖗 𝖙á á𝖗 𝖒𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖓 𝖉é𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖓 𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖆 𝖋é𝖎𝖓” a harsh and hollow voice echoed. Chuckling without an ounce of emotions.

The old guard could barely see anything only how those two shadows. Lighted up by two different lights. At a standstill.
Green and golden clash against one another, exchanging blows. The long lanky shadow swung its arm. The human shadow dodged and swiveled what seems to be a shape of a sword to sever off that said arm that swung at them.

A screeching howling erupted in the night. Coldness of hearing its growl nibble onto the old guard's skin.

“biotáillí ar ais ó na cinn ar tháinig tú, óir buailfidh tú mo lasair dhian.” this other voice sounded young but not too young middle-aged perhaps, calm and determined.

A golden glow blazed. Forcing the guard to back. Now hurdles down. Protecting his vision.

“casadh agus cas, lúb agus deisigh, lig an scoilt a bheith iomlán arís!”

Then there was nothing. No rustling, no gushing wind whipping its surroundings or light. Just the normal dim gleam from lamps. Sound of waves hitting the port. Nonetheless, the coldness remains lingering.

The old guard could hear steady footsteps around the corner, stopping and then walking towards him. He rushed up his head to get a glimpse of the person.
Instead, he is met with a flat rounded metal item among features akin to a gamble wheel including only seven slots. Colored black and red.

”sleep and forget”

Shimmering grey eyes stares at him though the old guard couldn't stop looking into the item before him. It was calming. Furthermore, drowsiness plague his psyche. His body turns heavy. Everything fades slowly to dark.

Later the guard woke up by someone shaking his shoulders. It was a colleague of his. They asked him what had happened and what about the robbery.

”what?! Nothing has happened” said the old man who gets perplexed as nothing wrong or interesting had happened.

**********

An average-built man stroll with determined steps. Flamboyant gestures and siren calls from exotic ladies of the night are thrown at him. Calling for his attention but failing. The man in his late thirty or early forty’s maintained his march silently down the street in the bowery.

The tan trenchcoat flutter as it catches a slight draft. The man’s brown trilby hat lay a shadow over the male's face. Obscuring it to others.
Underneath the hat falls black strands of hair down on the caucasian male with a masculine angular-shaped face. Having a serious expression yet soft round grey eyes resembling agate gemstones.
Beneath the coat simple white shirt with a light green tie and brown pants. Providing him with a touch professional investigator atmosphere.

The man walks past commercial flyers for Kirby’s bakery plastered on lamp poles.

Simply stopping in front of a boxing club named Nine lives. Its outside is simplistic and not very eye-catching. In need of repainting as the light yellow color began to shave off a few corners.

The small city sign depicting a boxing glove on it was written the open and closing time for the days of the week. Opening at 4 am and closing at 10 pm with the only exception being Sunday opening at 7 am and closing at 8 pm. Stand right next to the doors.
People walk out holding up a charged attitude with light in their eyes. Holding bags properly containing training clothing.

He glares through the window.

A small number of people are visible still working out with it nearing the closing hour. Thuds of jabbing on punching bags eco lightly while the klirring sound of weight being lifted spreads fast only to fade away quickly. With all being heard even from the outside.

One guy chooses to jump ropes.

One wall is decorated with frames containing old news articles centering on the name Ted Grant with fat letters. A huge leather belt with golden discs hung right over the articles.

It looks like any typical boxing club from the outside except for one detail. Someone standing at the foot of a huge boxing ring watching two young adult boys box against each other. Both kids wearing protective headgear of some sort and boxing gloves.

The old man is past his sixty, he stands next to the ring coaching the young lads to improve their movements. Black streaks had grown dim on the man's side and the rest of his hair had fully turned silver gray.
Wearing a dark blue t-shirt, its arms had been rolled up not for the fabrics to be strained against the man’s brawny muscles.
It was easy to see the well-built muscle contours of his back as the cloth is right against the skin.

For a moment the old man turned his head around only for the two males to lock their eyes at each other. There’s this silent recognition of respect between them.

The trench-coated male steps away from the window only to go around the corner into an alleyway next to the club.

Cats hideaway, some make themselves look bigger by raising their fur on their back, low vibrating meows ending with a high pitch note. Marking their sovereignty Before the stranger.
Other sounds conclude of people chattering about daily lives or the latest celebrity gossip while engine sounds of cars pass by the alleyway.

Grey agate eyes scan their surroundings closely looking into cracks, searching every corner. Tills they stop at an area bland and easily forgotten space among garbage bags.

He quietly strolls over there, pushing them trash bags aside, and hunches down. Fingertips delicately stroke the empty surface. The man whispered incoherent foreign words that didn’t make sense except to himself.

Golden glowing steam rise above from those said places where the male’s fingertips touched.

His pupils constrict, thinning the lines between his eyes while cautiously observing the small glowing steam. Gracefully it dances around curving its turns and twisting softly yet it is excessively weak.
It then bulges up bubbles transforming into a shape resembling a crooked bird taking flight as it spreads its golden light that resembles wings. It then violently turns green before it collapses inwardly. Evaporating.

”hm, traces of decay, chaotic energy and reminiscent of heavy miasma”
Said the man without his stoic expression ever-changing. The only alterations that were made were the tone of his deep voice hinting at an inquisitive ness of wanting to know more. His grey agate eyes remained concentrated.

*step* *step*

Heavy controlled steps eco from the very end where the trench-coated man had entered.

”so what do you know About this?” said the trench-coated man loud and clear but didn’t turn around or react much just kept glaring at the spot.
Remaining calm and still while his arms rest on his knees. Hands hanging loosely in the air.

”hey flatfoot, you should have told me you were coming, at least a call had been nice before you go popping up” out came a booming and rugged voice.

It was the elderly bulky man who had trained those kids in the club.

Confidently he treaded the alleyway using his whole body. Light and refined movements that of a ballet dancer while also combining with the instinctive power of a trip hammer.

”Theodore Grant, your plenty rugged and hard-boiled as always, the personification of health,” said the man in the trench coat slowly putting his hands down in his pockets As he stood up to face the man that was approaching him.

”your one to tell, Occult you still look like you in your middle-aged cinder dick years even when you’re older than me, and call me Ted you old coot,” said the fit man grinning from ear to ear. Crossing his arms flexing those muscles as if asking for a fight.

”maybe after a decade or two old chum” the man named Occult just had a little fun teasing his Comrade.

Ted chuckles loudly, smirking. Spruce up his back.

”what brings you to our Apple? don't tell me Scott has invited you to his table again, he sure can be a grifter if Ya hands him a deck of cards”

”nothing like that Theodore, but I bet I can win over that cement mixer any day” his voice was monotone with confidence in his words. Leaning his head forward a bit.

”still none of you can chisel me”

”wanna wager it you old Teddy bear!”

”bring it on Flatfoot!”

Both men not backing down on their statements were tensing up. Steady holding their ground. Ready to face each other off in a game of cards.

A dim golden light lit up all over Occult engulfing him, covering his whole body.
A soothing warmth emitted from light, sending a gentle breath of whiff around the alleyway's atmosphere. The light moved around faster like cyclones pushing back air pressure.

”Boys stop talking bumping gums, we need to work” a female voice came from the inside of the light. Ted looked at his comrade unmoved and without worry. The light vanishes quickly.
No longer was there the male Ted had talked to the man name Occult but a female face with slender feminine features. Flat black hair going just above the shoulders.

Thin rosy lips and her sparkling oval onyx-colored eyes stare intensely. Burning of annoyance.

It wasn't the only thing that had changed the body had also altered.
Slight shorter with an hourglass figure, the coat that has been there was replaced with a periwinkle purple jeans jacket, a white blouse, and citrus yellow slim pants. Lastly, wear low heels.

”Good to see ya Rose, those the house peeper treat you well” Ted sounded delighted to meet the woman named Rose.

”He those you know that deary but sometimes a gal just wanna have fun instead of working nine to five ” the woman that went under the name Rose waved her hands around in circles. Stretching her body.

a little bit stiff.

”as to answer the dear doc's question, not much I was closing and found the victim was butt naked in my alleyway, first I thought it was one of the usual youngsters sniffing Cadillacs, it should have been easy peasy and take a look on their state and send them to the nearest clinic I thought” the tone to Ted's voice had gotten intense. His eyes shut.
Remembering the event that had befallen him under that night. He had sighed out loud sounding frustrated.

”guess it wasn’t the case” Rose batted her eyelashes, snapping together their eyebrows, and curved her mouth into a painful smile.

A part of Rose knew her friend blamed himself when she glanced over the severe mode that flowed over him. He had been the one nearest the victim. Just around the corner. Not noticing before it was already too late.
She could see how tired his eye was. Unable to be at ease during these two weeks.

”Nah, the all-wet twit was gone. Dead-eyed and empty looking. ” he paused to think about he saw.

” it .. gave me the Willys,” Ted was full of resolve when lifting his gaze looking down at the corner where occult had been tossing away trash.

”you did well, Teddy give me your hand,” she said wanting to help their friend, to ease them just a little.

Ted scuffed lightly, yet reached out one hand. Rose took his hand, holding it gently drawing a small silk teal pocket bag out of her periwinkle jacket. Putting that small bag into his hands. A soft scent of dry grass filled the air. Ted’s nostrils twitched when smelling the scent.

It was catnip.

”Rose, you know I'm Not an ACTUAL CAT!!” he couldn’t help himself brooding.

”hahaahaa, sorry but you do look like you need a cat nap” Rose was laughing, like a ray of life in stark contrast to her counterpart.

Ted was disgruntled thinking that some people never change even if they get older.

Silence swept past in the alleyway except for the vocational buzzing coming from the streets.

”There was one thing, that the twit was a wheat, a none local, I may have retired mostly from the hero business but I still got my years of gut experience telling me that an unknown worm crawled into our apple” he was deadpan still, tightening his muscles.

Ted Grant tho an old man with a large stature and a loud mouth was a founding member of JSA.
A normal human among people who could be considered super humans or gods. Respected for his fighting prowess and spirit. When the next generations of saplings bloomed out Ted was there training them new heroes ranging from superman, black canary, and Batman to babysitting newbies.

When opening up his Nine lives he wanted to satisfy his vigilante soul, helping those who needed boxing, an outlet for frustration. For an affordable price.

Keeping them out of trouble and off the streets. Many saw him as a father figure who would be brutally honest stirring them back to a path they could be proud of by knocking some sense into themselves. Using his bare fists. It was his calling card, beat them up to bloody pulp until they understand.

If anyone could identify the faces of Gotham's citizens knowing them by heart and soul it would be Ted Grant who spent his time teaching all kinds of people.
For In his club, anyone was welcomed. So long they bid to his rules.

”Thank you, Teddy, from here on I think we will be able to work off it” there is simply confidence in her words. Waving a goodbye starting to turn around. Looking over her shoulders giving a genuine smile towards Ted. Who looked more cranky than before.

As Rose departed out of the alleyway, a stream of golden light washed over her as she walked. Small lights spheres separate from the light and from within it re-emerged a familiar male figure in a tan trench coat and trilby hat.

Grey agate eyes shimmer plenty With conviction. Keeping that calm frown on him. Walking tall and straightening his back.

He could feel the cold wind blow from the west stroking his cheeks. Tensing his muscles. Comprehending the harsh bitterness of Gotham’s air that weighs its darkness down on one’s mind.

The light shines from still open-up pubs and restaurants. It is not blinding but irritating to stare directly into it.

He had a hum of what had happened but couldn’t be sure about what will happen next. There was too little evidence pointing anywhere. He just hope it wasn’t an as severe problem yet.

He needed a way to track down and contain the culprit before more victims appear. If the situation proves to be too much for him and Rose alone to handle then they would need to call in a few favors.

”Cosain biotáillí seachtar sinn ón olc” whispered Occult not loud enough to be picked up by other humans as he walks past them.

Disappearing amongst a crowd of people.

Chapter Text

Danny could hardly contain his excitement about getting out of the sewers. No more of the awful stench that penetrates his nostrils.
No more icky sewage water caressing his skin. He sprang with a joyful heart. There was little weight to his steps so even when he was sprinting Danny’s steps were almost silent.

Waylon on other hand lagged, hunching down and squeezing his body together to fit him through. One could hear how thickly armored skin scrape on the surface of the wall. It was like Sandpaper with a lower number yet larger grains, an overall coarse paper grind on an equally rough concrete surface.
Having such a big size had its disadvantages. Waylon loudly mutters things Danny comes to understand to be curse words. He was getting a hang of them cussing.

Danny turned around waiting in and looking at his reptilian pal. Why did he choose this path? When there exist proper alternative routes are fitting his size better.

”hey old man are you alright?” Danny pondered that it looked quite a bit uncomfortable for Waylon.

”shut it boug! don’t call me old or I will plug your pie hole,” showing his vexation by lifting his lips to present his teeth. Thinning his eyes.

”is that a promise or is it just that you are admitting you are sensitive about your age, old man,” Danny said with a mischievous grin. Sounding playful.

"by the way, I was wondering can you do the T-Rex roar" Danny tucked his arms close to his body only to use his hands to pretend to be a tyrannosaurus.

Waylon didn’t look all too happy, doing a low vibrating growling that could scare the shit out of someone like Dash.

”I get it! no need to turn all Jurassic Park on e” Danny felt that he could jester a bit few more jokes. They were chummy chum, after all, it's too bad to end the conversation there.

Then again.

He didn’t want to turn the 700 pounds muscle mass of a man and with 16,460 Newton’s, of bite force on his bad sides. Danny was dead or half dead. To be precise. Death is his acquaintance but that doesn’t mean he is stupid.

Both Waylon and Danny gradually made their way to the end. Steel bars blocked their way.

Danny could smell the fresh air of fish and algae. Light puffs of wind stroked his cheeks. The warming rays of light of a soon-rising sun on the horizon were finding their way Through the bars.

Inside the tunnel, rays skim over a paint-sprayed circle with an arrow pointing out of it towards the end.
When he peaked outside, putting his head between the steel bars. he saw how parts of the crimson and marigold orange colors that embarked on their journey. It’s firey red and youthful orange grasping and feasting on the deep royal blue of the night sky.
There was a small platform made of concrete below them going off to a makeshift ladder out of iron chunks.

Leading to a bridge.

This bridge stretched out over the wakening river to the other side. Large old-fashioned buildings spanned across an Island where the bridge reached its end.
The Bowery district was located in the uptown of Gotham city. Bordered by the Burnley and otisburg to its west. Crime Alley to its north and Robbinsville to its east.

Warm colors had spread their veil over the city’s rugged Gothic features. Windows sparkle when the sunlight touched them giving a crystal shine to them. Seagulls flew just above the water level. Circling together. While they squawk enthusiastic about finding fish near the surface. It all together created a sight of intense fervor to behold.

Danny couldn’t think clearly when gazing out. He ceased breathing for a minute. Not that he needed to breathe like any regular human being.

It was mesmerizing beautiful, peaceful And warm. He could stare at it for hours at an end. Jazz would have liked the warm scenery. They would have liked it.

Danny snaps back to reality. Feeling empty and detached.

He thought he could simply phase through. It would be easy, the problem existed right beside him. Sure Waylon knew about him having powers it’s just best not to show more than he already knows about.
”any ideas grunc-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence when he felt something akin to a large hand with stubby claws grab his clothes from behind. Pulling him off the steel bars and lifting him to the side.

Waylon was the one who pulled Danny aside. Stricken head-on seemingly with not much force on the steel bars. Metallic clangs clatter, and all the steel bars and what connected the parts bend outwards.

Breaking.

The impact thrust the bars and everything stuck to them. Sending them flying, firstly hitting the concrete below them then proceeding to bounce right into the river. Making huge splashes.

”just one” Waylon proudly looked over the demolition before he jumped down.
Danny couldn’t ignore the smirking grin of Waylon whilst making gestures for him to hurry up. What a show-off.

Danny followed behind him. He jolted down, landing with a soft thump sound.

”hey Gruncle it's been one hella of a Snappy time with ya but I gotta drag my tail and fly home”
he was grateful for Waylon being his guide down in the sewage. It had been fun if you count out the wild flush rollercoaster, the brawl with a lost little birdy, and the endless stroll through the icky sewage water. He was a tad bit sad that they would separate.
He did make a stellar straight man.
Not one to want to talk much tho. But anyone can keep a poker face even when Danny spewed out bad puns. He was considered to be a guy Danny would like to keep in touch with within his book.

"yeah, yeah ya little pischouette” there was a little growl at the end of his sentence. Waylon didn’t have hair but the muscles and hard skin tissue between his eyes tightened slightly pointing downward.

Danny looked up at Waylon who looked so done that it made him seem older moreover tired.

"I’m being transparent and dead serious here.” Danny was very earnest about it.

”Bon sang” What came after Waylon muttered that, was that he lifted a hand to dunk Danny on his back. In a sorta way to comfort or let the air around him calm down.

Danny couldn’t help but remember how his father would do the same thing While smiling and calling him 'Dan’.

Looking back into his memories his father was considered a babbling happy fool by the public. In reality, he was one of the most observant and bright than people would give him for granted.

He was the scientist who created the ghost portal and constructed inventions that aided in the battle and defeat of malicious ghosts who wanted chaos and devastation.

The last time Danny saw him he was his goofy self, cracking a smile even in face of death. He still was the committed father figure that wanted nothing else than for his kids to think of him as a hero. Someone to look up to.

Instead of walking back into the sewage as Danny had expected, Waylon took out a face mask and put it on his face. Hiding away most of his reptilian appearance and went for the ladder.

”wait, where are you heading?” Danny’s eyes grow large and his eyebrows lifted upward. Then his mouth opened into a curious thin line.

”I kept my end of the deal” Waylon slightly scuffed. Simply Irritated about something. His voice was muffled by the mask.

”wow I didn't know I had grown on you that much, I’m speechless,” Danny said jokingly.

"quit your idling japing, so get going boug.” Waylon sounded deep and threatening but at the same time, his body looked relaxed when facing his front towards Danny. He could see a sparkle in those yellow eyes.

Danny's eyes slowly blinked along with the corners of his mouth quirked up from ear to ear.

They were nothing alike, his father and Waylon.

From the way, they word their sentences and too the way they behave and act.

But at least they have one thing in common.

Both are softies.

They were soon climbing up on the ladder leading up to the bridge that would take Danny home to the Bowery. Waylon was the first to reach the top.
Behind them is the south complex of the East End district. The bridge lay not far from woody's, a few blocks that’s all. There was a total of four bridges.
One highway bridging through Robbinsville close to the border off the Bowery. Another was under reconstruction after a villain blow it up. It had been a real spectacle. The other two were not that big, just wide enough for a walkway.

It was empty and mostly quiet. Not many would be awake by this hour.

The higher view from the bridge was much better than expected. There's the pleasureful sea smell ridding the west wind currents. Putting his hands on the railing. Clutching tightly onto it.
Feeling the blowing wind gently messing up his hair. The air was slightly cold. From a long distance, you could see a little greenery slowly change the brightly green to soft earthy tones.
In some aspects when the gusts went thru the combinations of concrete and metal. It sounded like familiar whistling tunes. Tunes he remembers. Thinking about his family.

His life goes without them, it's a losing game but he will not surrender. Cause he will remember. That one thing remains, the memories so warm and tender.

Danny took in a deep breath before letting go of the bridge railings without noticing the damage he had done to it.
Damage in the form of metal bent to resemble hand shapes clutching and digging down on it.

During the time their long and tedious walk, they experienced what could be called the yawns of Gotham city.

Garbagemen drive their early morning routine collecting garbage. Street sweepers attempt to do their work by cleaning up the streets but are shunned away in a threatening manner. Flying objects aimed at the street sweepers. These objects are thrown by these scavenging hopeless homeless people.

Tho none of them could see the presence of ghosts as they roam the streets.
Regular humans are unaware of their existence. Even after sunrise they to continuing their schedule of daily hunting.

There was this particular homeless group that was infamous for doing anything drastic like biting, stabbing, and smacking even members with a rock they dug up from the sidewalk for a pack of Oreos.

People might not believe it, but people on the streets tend to be like a flip of a coin.

Sort of a gamble.

Either you are blessed enough to find nice regular people or those who go stabby-stab when you sleep for a mere dollar.

There is a reason too why the people of strand station are always maintaining their guard up when leaving for the outside and never leave the safe place without a buddy.

Danny found himself lucky to have been fortunate enough to be taken in by good people.

That he had been lucky so far.

Having old Gus teaching Danny a little bit of history, who to watch out for, and the workings of Gotham. He was the kind grandfather type to the kids. Making sure everyone was okay and full when cooking up a meal. The Peacekeeper of the group took in an unknown child despite the risks.

The sweet Annie was too gentle for her own good. She always played with the children. Helping out by doing chores even though she couldn't do much.

Rosé had worked so hard to be sober, wanting to see her kids so badly.
She was soon going to her last meeting to see if She could at least meet them once a month. Rosé reminded him of his own mother a headstrong woman doing anything for her children no matter the price.

He wanted to apologize to her.

The bowery district is poor yet still lively in a sense.

It had formerly been a commercial district with a glorious future. Shops everywhere. Pubs and clubs had been brimmed with people laughing and generally having a good time.
Upcoming stars of Jazz and swing taking the stage on the club soul of the rocks. Young couples danced on the dancefloor until sunrise.
New technical enhancements and evolution of art. Restaurants with foods from all over the world. It had been the young soul that was hopeful and energetic.
That was in the past. Now it is but a shadow of itself. A grey gloomy speck. Fallen from grace just as the other northern districts.

Now It could be relatively quiet at times. Just noises compete with each other to what could be the loudest and most annoying. Crackheads out on the streets selling drugs. homicide, thievery, prostitution, and black marketing had become a part of the Bowery’s soul.

It wasn’t like the level of bad the Narrows or Park Row was going thru. However, it had fallen from its grace. From a time when it was once bright.

Whenever Danny scouted around catching glimpse of his surrounding. He caught wary eyes. Giving them both dirty looks.
He felt as if they needed to quicken their pace. They stood out too much. With one being a giant and the other being a tiny teen.

He didn’t like their gazes, their piercing glares etched beneath his skin. He lowered his head a little. Pushing his shoulders upward. Hiding in the quilted jacket with its blue and white argyle pattern. Feeling more comfortable tucked in it.

Danny could see that Waylon seemed relaxed and unhinged. His hands were tucked neatly down in the pockets of the big black hoodie. He was capable of ignoring his surroundings. Staying calm and collected.

Was it because everyone else is not threatening enough for him to react? Or because he sees no worth in it. Maybe something else. He perhaps had turned numb from others' excessive gazes. Who knows.

Danny wondered what type of challenges Waylon had faced throughout the years. It shouldn’t have been easy while looking like a miniature dragon. And having a temperment as one.

Resorting to crime or becoming a bodyguard may have been his way of surviving in this world.
Learning that there was no other way for him. Unlike Waylon, Danny passes on the surface as fully human. There were more opportunities open for him although there where no certainty that they would accept him for who he is. Or for what he is.

Waylon and Danny walk by a couple of old-looking buildings. Upon these ragged old buildings are orange pumpkins painted along their walls. Marking the terf and declaring who its owner was, and the g.

The terfs are deployed and regulated by their respective baddies. The Scarecrow rules the bowery and half of Otisburg. Before him, it was a scientist named Dr.Frost, the Penguin, and the Carmine Falcone Crime Family.

Danny had sometimes imagined Italian mobsters that would have been hiding in plain sight. All nicely tailored and in a fedora. Under Falcone's times, It would have been like living in the godfather, Goodfellas, or the roaring twenties movies.

Danny has never met the Falcone's but he is sure as hell that he would have them keep running the district more than the Scarecrow.

The Scarecrow is some type of professor of psychology oriented toward fear. One day that man's brain went coco puff and dressed up as a scarecrow.

Being honest scarecrow was a rip-off of Freddy Krüger in Danny's eyes.

The Scarecrow is a human he still is very much above your average fruit loop of a haystack. Who you shouldn't underestimate. Obsessed with the notion of fear without concern for others.
Using Fear as a means for his goals.
A madman killer that would use psychology and chemicals as weapons on the innocents. Danny loathed that kind of person. Psychology was meant to help people. Not harm them.

Bad rumors had started to circle. Spreading like wildfire. That people kept dying with These terrified faces.

Some people speculate it is the Scarecrow's fault.

The GPD might not do much, they never do especially when it concerns the upper districts.
Batman may do something therefore get track of this and bring the culprit down.

Danny didn’t want to get caught in something unnecessary. If that were to happen.
Then Danny would have to face him. There will be consequences and a bad aftermatch. Not only would he expose himself but also risk what very little happiness he had worked for.
It was enough that two people already knew too much. He didn’t need more to know.

Gotham isn’t Amity park where you could suck up troublemakers into the Fenton thermos and send them back home.
has a curse looming over the city. A dark curse that creates maniacs left and right causing people to go insane.

As both Danny and Waylon walked along together while eyes observed them as they made a turn to the left down a thin alleyway. Granting not much room for movement. Danny was becoming skittish while reacting to sudden sounds.

They had kept walking off trail from the normal alleyways going deeper into more rugged parts of the Bowery where the sunlight was late to touch.

He knows his way to the station with ease. Danny remembers his route and follows the street signs. It was easy, moving around.

Walking out of the alleyways right into the street of Gerry Conway st.
Danny takes in the scenery of the older architectural buildings inspired by the neoclassical style similar to that of manhattan. Characterized by grandeur scales, simplicity of geometrical forms of greek or roman details, and a preference for blank walls.

Crowds of people start to wake up, slowly filling the streets with life. Hurrying to their next destination. A few people hold blue and white striped paper bags with Kirby's bakery logo on them. Sipping on their hot steamy coffee from portable paper mugs with handles.
Others are glued to the screen of their phones Ignoring their surroundings and the existence of others around them.

A young group of casually dressed teens moves along to their respective schools. Loudly laughs together and complain about the teachers handing out all too many difficult assignments in classes.

There was a time when Danny had taken those simple things for granted. Hanging out with Sam and Tucker, going to school, and receiving homework from Mr. Lancer. Casper high wasn’t the best at being a public school but it was good enough for him.

He missed those years of innocence.

A white public bus passes by, stopping at a sole bus stop. People pushed themselves along the crowd onto the bus as its doors open.

Swimming through the ever-growing waves of countercurrents of the buzzing crowds was difficult to work against.

Too many clusters of rude people yelling for you to move out of the way whilst shoving their shoulders at you. In a true Gothamite spirit. It was very uncomfortable how cranky and rude they could get.
Danny abhorred being trapped in the morning traffic. People were so close.
Too close to his concern. A hence of alarming tingled in his mind. Making him want to disappear. Or rather wanting them to vanish instead. Their pushy actions got on Danny’s nerves.

The masses averted from Waylon who was confidently bulldozing through the Crowd. His big stature made everyone notice him. Opening up a road for him.
Seeing people avoid him, Danny decided to take the opportunity to walk behind Waylon in order not to be swept away.

Both manage to pass thru. Moving on the street walkway. Danny relaxed his shoulders as a familiar blue and green striped awning came into his view. Hanging over the door and the shop's windows. Across the street.
With a rotatable floor postcard stand chained and stuck into the wall to not get stolen. The large window glass had collected a fair amount of dirt and dark mold on the window trim.

Paul Dini’s mini-market wasn't the biggest or the fanciest. Just a regular old mini market that melts in without sticking out. Located between two larger residential buildings. Paul was a man with a large stomach area, who is one jolly old bearded man.
Owning his little mini market ever since he was in his youth. The locals called this little market Dini’s mini or just Dini’s.
He had good memories here with the younger boys. Dini’s had a small section for comic books which Danny and the kids would sneakily read without no one seeing them.
Tho there were a few incidents when Paul found out. He didn't do much more than scold them for reading without buying. Throwing them out, Yet Paul never seemed to be angry no matter what. It had been more akin to pity.

Danny knew that they were closing in, on his home when seeing familiar sights of old restaurants that long had closed down for good.

There were a couple of ghosts restless lingering in their normal haunted spots. Their misty humanoid appearances dragged themselves just above ground level.

Having complete human features made out of misty silhouettes when newly departed.

Then when they gradually lose their sense of self as their memories devolve and diminish. The things left of their humanity are just strong emotions and attachments to objects, places, or people.
Leaving them with a deep obsession that's altering their consciousness. Changing them further, corrupted by the chaotic ectoplasmic energy that leaks out from the ghost zone into the human world.

With Danny’s comprehension of ghosts' genetic building blocks. It made him ponder. He found it odd that a city with so much death and ghosts had such a low count of ectoplasmic energy. It was weird.

Here it was like climbing up a mountain only to face the problems that come from being at a higher altitude. The thin air and its pressure which your body is not used to forces your body to work overload. Straining the heart pumps out blood faster to gradually increase the adaption to the new environment.

Without having an oxygen tank to spare.
Danny had relied on taking large portions of ectoplasmic energy for granted. In Amity there had been an abundance. With it being a hotspot.
That's why he could fight so frequently with ease and heal up quickly in the past.

The thing is just wasn’t earth supposed to be parallel with the ghost zone? So wouldn’t the ectoplasmic level be at least a little bit higher than this?

When Danny looked over to the other side of the road he notices new ghosts.

It seemed as if a few more had joined their ranks which Saddened Danny. These new arrivals kept their human characteristics in form of contours. Quite a few are small and childlike with sorrowful and painful gazes.

Gotham City could be a callous confidant.

Danny stopped for a moment staring at the young ghosts they couldn't be more than seven or five years old he assumed due to how short and how youthful they looked.

At least Danny was fourteen when it happened. Though it had been his own mishap. He shakes his head troubled that these kids weren't even given a proper good chance to be able to grow up. To be someone.

He couldn't get over the fact that people would do such heinous things as that toward young adolescents. Hurt them.
Hurt him. Revulsion managed to linger in such a way that it gave a rotten aftertaste. These kids deserve better. They were too young and innocent.
They had been at that age where they should just have played around. They have no right to take that away. Never again waking up in the early mornings with children's cartoons. Nevermore homemade breakfast waiting on the tables for them.

Whoever did that was no longer human. Those people had forsaken their humanity from that moment when laying a hard hand on the innocent lambs.
Monsters, they are all monsters. How could they? Murderers. They should pay for what they have done.

Fury roared through and clouded his mind. Be taken by a vortex of acrimony stirring inside of his chest. Clutching his fists together.

He didn’t pick up that Waylon have also stopped in his tracks and stood silently.

Watching and waiting.

As Danny felt a growing ache within him, triggered by the existing enmity that had surged threw his body’s veins. Pushing him. Screaming at him. To hit something to get rid of his anger.

Everything was too messy for his brain to function adequately. Thoughts of anger spun around in his head.

He had to control himself. Biting hard on his lower lip to focus on the pain. To the point of Shedding a drop of blood.
Jazz would have guided him through it. Telling him to take big breaths. Counting down from a hundred while thinking about something else. Shutting his eyes. Counting down. 100..99…98..97..

”comment ça va garçon!?”

Danny could hear the muffled voice thicken, there was something that made him recall of Mr.Lancer asking about how he felt due to looking deadbeat tired, and almost slept in class. It had been a long night of rogue ghost hunting.

Lancer had his favorites among students and would often take their sides even when they were the culprits. Never understood why. Yet he was the teacher that did the most for the students.

86….85..84..83…..

Taking on a substitute teacher role while the said teachers were sick considered that his major was English, not math, PE, or history.
He was the vice principal and at times of need a student counselor. He was among the few adults that cared for his students and their learning experience. Tho he would guilt trip his students about not seeing his sister on the weekends because of his workload.

62..61..60..59…..

Everyone knew the truth that the picture was just him in a dress with a wig.
He should have chosen a clean blue dress fitting his color and pear figure the best. Not that tacky bright yellow with flowers.

55..54..53..52..51..50..49..48..

He looked obese in that dress. Yellow just isn’t his color. And he should have shaved his legs at least. With those pair of hairy legs, people would have thought he was a part big foot.

Oddly enough he had no hair on his scalp yet lots of hair everywhere else.

Danny kinda missed that Mr. Lancer would curse using book titles.

40..39..38…...

He had to put everything away to the side for now.

Chapter Text

The kid has problems and it's beginning to get on Waylon's nerves.

Waylon’s eyes slowly blinked, and his pupils went back and forth when thinking.

He elaborated hard to a conclusion on what was happening. Starring right into those icy blue eyes which looked intensely at some plain space across the street.
Waylon thought he was seeing things when those icy cold eyes shine clear green and at the same time shifted between a light blue glow. A chill run down his spine and he smelt that annoying stank again.

He could swear it was some unworldly yet partially spellbinding wretchedness. Coming from the kid.
It was similar to that incident in the sewage. Except for a certain enmity towards that space.

This whole ordeal was turning into a hassle.

The air around them felt weirdly hollow, a heavy galling weight that perforates his thick skin.
In a sense, the chill made him shiver for more reasons than one. The experience was similar to when visiting that darn popsicle Viktor freeze who he had come across before on a couple of occasions. That walking talking freezer.
It was just a raw of ghostly coldness. Absence of any type of warmth. Despite the rising sun’s gentle and warm rays stroking his hide, it was still insufficient enough to make him feel an ounce of heat. Tingling across his thick scaly skin along with the sense of dryness.

People walk close to them and shiver as they pass by. Breathing out light puffs of air that are seen.

Was the kid doing this?

It was very abnormally bizarre how someone like this little skinny mullet, with his tiny stature and lack of muscle mass. Could the kid create this type of atmosphere that made you rather want to crawl inside an oven? And stay there. Yet he had a gut feeling that nothing would happen to him.

Waylon could see how the kid scowled whilst biting his lower lip.
He bit it so vigorously for a drop of blood fell down his chin. Waylon had an extremely good sense of smell being able and recognize different scents from far away. The scent of a certain metallic aroma is identical to a mixture of rust and putrid chrysanthemum.
Anger and poignancy were present in the kid’s upset expression.
He was constraining and pushing back whatever was going on.

The kid had grown in merely seconds tense but slowly started to relax. Regaining a gentler tone. From an intense and upset expression forming into a face of longing. His eyes seemed glossary ready to burst.
Yet still fixated on that particular spot. Which irritated Waylon.

"boug!!” Waylon uttered in a deep ruff voice, sounding displeased. His eyes were sharply observing if there was any response. There was none.

The little runt kept gazing straight into that vacant space across the street. Ignoring or not noticing his attempt like there were nothing around him. Fully absorbing the view over that walkway as if it was some type of obsession.

Waylon silently watched it a bit. In wait for something to appear. Although nothing did emerge into solid existence. The fact still stood out that it was of interest to the runt.

Waylon didn't know what had made this p’tit boug’s emotions spiral. But he sure did not want this whole spiel to go on further. He wanted to get out of the bowery as fast as possible.

People were walking past them, they kept their fair distance from the duo.
Random people mumbled things. Merde idiote. Waylon did not care about them, those pathetic excuses for human beings could keep on being nasty little shits. Everyone has the same selfish assholes personality.

Always a pain in the ass. People turn away their gazes when Waylon stared back at them with a killer glare.

For at this moment, he just wanted the kid to get back home, and himself to leave this district.

After that, he could concentrate on finding a new lair for the time being. Couse going back down there was not an option, Those rats had put something to monitor the sewage.
So it was a bad idea going back there.
There was also the problem of financial support. He needs to get back into business discreetly.

”Runt!" Waylon was growing impatient. He wasn’t a therapist let alone good with people. How would he know what to do in these kinds of circumstances? It’s not like a slap to the boy's cheeks would do the trick. violence was not an answer to everything. Though violence was a good answer to most things according to Waylon.

Some deserved some real ass whopping, but this kid did not. Waylon did not know why he thought that.

The p’tit boug was a scrawny and puny runt. Making the clothes way too big for him. This reminded Waylon of his younger self before getting framed for a murder he didn't commit, sending him behind bars in a juvenile institution. After that, he bloomed into the guy he is today.

Waylon thought more about the moment when the teen had awoken in his hammock. That deadpanned expression and those icy eyes. That unyielding boldness of not caring for his safety when speaking to Waylon or trotting carefree along a complex sewer system.

That frightened state he had woken up the second time.

Weirdly enough the kid had similarities to a puppy. Very friendly and playful but easily overwhelmed in a busy or noisy environment.

”Danny!?" there was an old bushy voice that could be heard not far from them both. Struggling to navigate through the crowd of people. The voice could be heard repeatedly calling out amidst the buzzing sounds of a lively Gotham.
The kid perceived to recognize his name being called and who it was that shouted it, by rising his head out from the comfort of his jacket.
Long raven strands of hair fell hiding most of the lanky features. Those creepy glistening eyes were gone in a mere second.

He kept himself still except for that quick motion of turning his head following the voice.

In a blink of an eye, the kid wiped out his frown.
The youngster open his mouth, exposing his teeth while the corners of his mouth stretched to the sides. Looking at the source with wide eyes, his thick eyebrows curve upward in a bow. Returning to his normal state of self.

The kid had perked up a bit. Waylon snarled. Seems like the lost puppy had found its pack.

The old guy wasn’t much of a looker with that untrimmed and messy silver beard clashing against that authority figure vibe to him. The feeling Waylon got to him while looking at those emerald eyes was that of a cunning old rug.
A Visibly anxious expression crawled up on that wrinkly old face as he closed into them.

An odor of mixed scents including almond, fruit, honey, and mushrooms with hints of sulfur and feces came from that old wrinkled face. Waylon stared intensely at the old rag smelling like a wet dog.

The old man had yet to reach them forcing his way through the thick crowd.

This was Waylon's cue to leave.

He couldn't keep standing there getting even more caught up with other people it would pose a problem for his obscene activities.

With the next wave of people, he was not going against the flow of movements. Instead, Waylon was following it professedly along like a boat on a streaming river without a struggle.

”À une autre fois gamin.” was the sentence he ushered in a low voice that would barely be noticeable by others than himself.

He only looks over his shoulder when he was further away yet still able to see hiding in a shadowy corner.

Another man had come forth with the old rug. A male in his late eighty’s. Long pure white strands of hair slicked back into a ponytail. Dressed up in a fancy brown suit with the same colored cape dangling over the shoulder.
Everything about the man was neat. Not fitting in with the kid and the other old fart.
That male had a pudgy smokey and herbal smell covering his whole body. Waylon hated that kind of smell.

Holding a lit Cigarette. The man gives off a relaxed but sharp gaze. He moved his hand that holds the cigarette between his lips and huffed heavy smoke.

Waylon could smell from afar that stinking smell that made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. That man did not feel quite right.

He watched as those two acted closely with the p’tit boug in a way that bugged Waylon. It unsettled a nerve with him.
For that reason, Waylon wanted to rip those two apart and hang them on displays as their lives would be drained away from them slowly. The hoodie's hood covered his intense grudge full eyes while the mask he was wearing hid away his sinister grimace.

Those cold blue eyes glanced toward his way maybe looking for him. Waylon felt a little warm.
Making him think twice about leaving But he could always find the p’tit boug by the kid’s scent alone.

Still, this kid wasn't anything special to him. They had not known each other for a long time. Nonetheless, this whole ordeal left him famished and tired.

His tiredness made him want to find a place to crash, to be alone for a while.

Waylon resumed his heavy speed down the path leading toward the crime alley. It was not the smartest move but since It was still morning then those bastards wouldn’t swing around and he needed neutral ground.

The further he walked up the streets the buildings changed their style reminiscent of older gothic structures and the simplicity of Helsingfors constructions.
It had its trashy charm shown through the colorful walls which teenagers had sprayed over with curse words or comedic portraits of famous people. Containers who once been a clear and vibrant green color had peeled off its chrome. Trash littered the streets spreading a rotten fragrance of cabbages, puke, and urine.

Most buildings were not in their bests shape and the empty buildings of this district had been forgotten while being left to their demise.

So were the people who lived there.

People there looked empty of emotions and forgotten. Only a few were the types that would do anything to survive. Selling themselves for the pleasure of money grabbing, stealing, and murder or satisfying their fantasy by taking a substance to numb them from their pain. Drugs roam these streets, calling it home.

Drug dealers under the drug lord would openly sell in the bright daylight by using their errands boys distributing it and giving them the fall once they are found out.

Kids who were first-time offenders would get a lighter sentence or be sent to juvenile prison. When coming back they continue their work as errands boys moving up little by little.

Waylon had come across kids twelve years old selling Cadillacs.
It was all to survive while bringing home a steady income. With the price of not knowing if you are coming back.

To him it wasn’t the worst neighborhood, In Waylon’s mind, it was the bowery which is the worst because crazy shit would always happen especially at night. If he could he would avoid that district wholeheartedly. Waylon believed that part of Gotham and the people who lived there were under a cunja.

He didn’t know what type of cunja it was but walking there always got his flight instincts hyped.

As if a strange air of demise was going on in there. It always managed to linger in such a way that it gave a rotten aftertaste.

There was only one place he could go at this early hour, to find peace in this dump hole called Park row.

A place where anyone could go to freshen up his soul, and gossip while looking for work. From the low-level thugs and villains to high-level henchmen and big fish villains.
It wasn't that far from the bowery district. Where he saw things from, it was an easy picking Choice.

Waylon walked steadily, with every step he took. He reeked confidence on the streets around the southeast area of the crime alley.

Following Dixon, St. Leading to a rather obscure place from the rest of Gotham. At this hour it was mostly quiet except for people passing by. Vacant car slots surrounded a building. It had a second floor making it wide and large. It had a big window with smaller squares embedded by the frames. On the building’s side, a parked green pickup truck stood lonely under an enormous sign saying My alibi bar and grill.
Posters of burlesque shows and stand-ups tugged on the red brick wall of the bar.
The building stood in front of the road near a streetlight.

Its entrance was just an ordinary door.

Waylon approaches the bar named my alibi. Turning the doorknob and pushing the door up. Hunching his head and upper body down to fit through.

The interior was unlike its simplistic outer appearance.

My alibi was among the last Speakeasies bars that survived during the American prohibition. Mainly because of the people it was catering to.

Refinements may be found beyond the wooden partition, such as one lonely pott each standing in the corners, padded seats, and free lumps of cheese on Sundays.

Four white-yellowish china handles, shiny brass on top, stand up from the bar counter. It is the most important nerve center of the bar, the beer engine.
Behind the bar counter, on shelves reflecting themselves against mirrors… are rows of bottles and glasses, also stacked matches and woodbine packets.

Beer advertising cards and an aged notice against betting are fixed onto dark-smoked yellowish wallpaper.

Beside the door that Waylon passes through on the wall is a square black glass.. that has paintings on it, in gilt, an antique clock face with Roman numerals, and letters spelling out NO TICK.

On the wall far away hangs a dart board that has yet to be ridden of its six darts interwoven into its soft surface.

Curtains dangle over a small stage fully covering it with red velvet fabric.

The old spinet which was in mint condition stands next to the scene with it being around 40 inches tall.
The owner Jimmy loves that piano to death. He had it rebuilt and refinished. Making it excellent quality both mechanically and aesthetically pleasing.

There are no other customers than the special pub-goer, who doesn't seem belong to belong there in a sense.
Dubbed the silent regular by other regulars. An old man in corduroys, he never greets anyone, never engages in backchat, and is not in any way an instigator of a cackle. He would usually fumble for his pocket money and order a pint. Drinking it up under just three minutes and like that leave.

When finishing the pint the silent regular, leave his seat on one of the bar stools. Very slowly walking away out, never saying a word.

Waylon who had entered the bar took his place on one patted seat, unsure about what to order.

There were no barmaids running around chitchatting, all had already gone home and slept in their comfortable beds until the next shift starts again.

Simply there was only one left in the bar, an aged old man wiping glasses clean with a kitchen cloth, behind the counter whistling, not fancy dressed rather comfortable.

”Hello, What will you have son?” the bartender asked in a calm and welcoming voice. He put the glass down with a clear klirr. Tossing the cloth over his shoulder.

”a mother-in-law, Jimmy” Waylon revealed his face by taking off his hoodie and face mask. Finally able to breathe in its musky and smokey bar air.

Jimmy looked at him undeterred, giving him no f**ks What's so ever.
He was after all the owner of the establishment, an old man that had seen all types of weirdos of all ages, coming and going. What mattered for this old geezer was money and if you could pay for your orders. No I.O.Us was allowed in his bar.
My alibi's prices were lower than those of other newer ones downtown in the fancier districts. So it was a favorite among those who do not have a lot of crashes on them.

Waylon searched his pockets. Scrambling out a crumbled bundle of dollars lashing the bunch on the counter. Jimmy looked at it with a stern frown then unraveled it, straighten them by hand, and calculated in his mind.

"I hear ya, one old and bitter broad on the stage, ” he said before tucking down the cash into the cash register within the bar counter.

Hands reached out for different types of bottles two of which Waylon recognized as bourbon and Amer Picon.

Amer picon is a french liqueur that had been popular at the beginning of the 20th century but went out of production a few years ago. It was rare to come across it in America.

He mixed the ingredients, Measuring by using tablespoons and ounces. The cobble shaker was half filled with ice. He was briskly shaking it until the contents are well cold off.

Then put an old fashion rock glass on the counter and strain the mixture into it. Lastly adding an orange wheel as a garnish.

Waylon looked at it, drawing it near his scally lips. Feeling the quite bitter liquid running through his throat, it's well balanced with all of the whisky tastes. A kick of Black licorice flavor followed behind alongside notes of a citrus zest aroma.
Refreshing coldness slipped along his teeth, warmth birth from his center then transmission inwardly through his body. Changing his mood marginally to a placid state.

It doesn’t last long, as the tingling sensation of warmth runs out quickly.

Taking another sip starts it all over again.

Dimm lights hung tightly from an aged wooden ship mast fixated by chains in the ceiling over the bar counter.
Waylon takes a moment peering at the rock glass reflecting his face created by the lights. The bright apricot color liquid consisting within the glass twinkle, and small waves emerge when being placed down.

He can not concentrate, as if having this annoying fly buzzing around him. Building up a scowl.

"so son, something gumming the works, or are ya dizzy with a dame? ”

Waylon did not fully understand Jimmy’s wording sometimes. At times that man would use old slang not used by the younger generation.
It hardly ever mattered to anyone though, because of the admiration he got. For being a former hatchet man.

There were no openings to the bar owner's posture. keeping a straight back. An always alert state of mind.
Fully in control of himself and aware of his surrounding as he dried a few more glasses piling on top of each other.

Waylon was not at all that intimidated, rather he respected that man.

”I… just returned a lost puppy, nothing more to it”

Those blue eyes lingered freshly in Waylon’s mind.

”une P’tit chiot aux yeux bleus”

Chapter Text

The elderly duo strolled on the walkway, While Danny was the one to walk behind.
He was silent whilst hiding within his jacket. Avoiding gazes. As if not wanting to be seen. Danny watches the two men from behind.
Old Gus would every so often glance over with a concerned look. Danny brushed off his frown turning it into a smile to assure him he was fine.

Danny was just trying to keep a low profile. He didn't know if someone was lurking in the shadows out to get him.
He felt uneasy being up on the surface for a longer period. There was this need to get to the subway station where he was safe.

To an extent, he had become a mole that would at times venture up to the surface for some time. Collecting nesting material or food when the soil is dry. Then dig back down to its secure borrow of dirt.

His body was close together while drifting away in his thoughts. His eyes were gloomy with a sulking expression. His big green buddy had left without telling him farewell. Danny had tried to search the growing crowd of the populace, but the apparent view had not been clear.
Though he could swear he had heard something from the big fellow.

And the kids.

What should he do to help them?

Danny had twitched out of discomfort amongst the growing crowd.
Trying to suppress himself from reacting every time someone was too close or brushed lightly on him when passing. He wanted to get inside away from the buzzing crowds of people. Into the safe space that he had grown accustomed to.

Old man Gus talked to the other elderly man beside him in a familiar tone. Gus would always talk with any stranger as if they were a friend they haven't met in a long time.

The elderly man did not introduce himself nor did Old Gus give an introduction to him.

Which was very peculiar to his typical manners. Usually, he would lay forward crucial information about people, it didn't matter if he had known them for a long time or just recently met, he would still introduce them.

Danny could easily sweep the issues under a rug, it was after all Old Gus. It could even be so easy as the old man hadn't said their names to old Gus. That happens sometimes.

Old Gus had been like a grandfather to the kids and teens in the station. Danny too saw this old ragged man in the same light.
He didn't know about his grandparents from both his maternal and paternal sides. He had known that his father Jack was an only child and had come from a long line of Fenton's that had… this obsession with the occult and mystical beings. Be it witches, ghosts, bigfoot, or the loch ness monster.

While on his mother's side, he had his aunt Alicia who lives in spittoon Arkansas where his mother Maddie was born and raised in.
Yet none of them seemed to speak about their grandparents. Only aunt Alicia had said that women from their side of the family had always been intellectuals.

It had been a bit lonely not to have grandparents.

Sam had her supportive grandma Ida when growing up and tucker had both his grandparents. They would come over at times with Tuck's cousins, and uncles and would have a big feasting.

Having at least one grandparent present might have helped both him and Jazz when it comes to food. Since both of our parents were a pair of workaholics it would had been nice to have an adult around. Specially when Jazz had needed to be treated as a kid once in a while.

Danny could picture that Gus and Rosé were his grandparents. Gus did manage to make one Tasty bean soup and vegetarian spaghetti bolognese out of what was available at those times.

Doing whatever grandparents would do. Still, he felt ashamed for behaving the way he did toward Rosé.

When glaring at the back of the two old men whilst tightening his grip on his makeshift bag with his belongings.

Danny couldn't be sure of this new face, the first impression would have others think of an old happy man enjoying his life.
Justified by the man’s constantly smiling and social interaction with Gus, resulted in the deep conversation they were having openly about good and bad food.

To Danny, there was a disturbing sense of déjà vu while observing that other old man, he felt apprehension when monitoring those thin-like eyes. That man was not moving adequately, his movements were stiff albeit calculating.

The imitation of a smile was a thing he had learned to notice through the daily interactions with Vlad masters. A smile of a grim man. Masking it to be perceived as innocent.

It wasn’t only the smile, but also the ponytail and white hair, no goatee present praise the ancients, and something more. It was like glancing on the older version of Vlad with a clean shave.
He didn't know what to call it, yet it made him experience affliction. There was an essence of profanity hidden beneath a invisible layer. This man was too similar to Vlad that it bothers Danny.

If that man had a castle in Wisconsin then that man sure was to be a fruit loop deluxe.

Danny didn't trust this man one bit. He couldn’t get over the fact that those two were so coincidentally alike except for some minor details such as age and the goatee. Maybe Danny was a little harsh to compare these two different individuals.

This man hadn’t yet caused any trouble for them for now. Despite that, he wouldn't permit something awful to transpire again.

At any sign of viciousness toward Gus, Danny would have to act until that happens. Caution is required of him.

A fancy-looking car lay in waiting not long after they had started to walk. Danny was sure it was a 1956 Rolls-Royce Phantom IV. Its chassis differed from those of the shorter, production post-war models, the silver wraith and the Bentley Mark VI.
An engine with increased capacity and power, it had an additional cross-member at the center of the cruciform bracing and 10-stud road wheel mountings. Its production number was limited to eighteen cars. Sold to royals or very rich people who had the money to buy it.

A middle age lady came out from the driver's seat. She was dressed all in a red secretary outfit. Long bloody crimson hair tied up in a ponytail, a sorta phantom of the opera mask to cover a part of her face. She couldn't be more than her early thirties or older twenties.

She was well-composed, even rigid, and greeted the old man as if he was some sort of chairman of a big company. Bowing respectfully for de elderly man, opening the car door with a klick. Smiling stiffly.

"it seems my ride has found me, Augustus it’s been a pleasure to be acquainted with you, though our meetings might have been short. I hope our paths cross soon again” the old man chuckled, finding something funny. His eyes thinned while straighten up his expensive-looking clothes before extending his left hand directly advanced to Old Gus.

Old Gus did hesitate in shaking that hand. Perceived to be mystified or taken back by the sightly older-looking gentleman.

"likewise” he let out, finally able to shake hands. Keeping a straight back.

Danny notices how this old man's face grows subtly cold.

"lovely Strega, my card” the old man motions by raising a hand towards the red-haired secretary. The woman named called Strega completed the order without any complaints and handed him a business card which he took only to offer it up to Danny.

It was an action that confused the young teenager.

"And.. Young Daniel was it?, you seem like a good and honest boy, if by any chance you require work, why don't you give my office a phone call, I could make use of a young blood like you in my organization” the way the old man said it made Danny's guts wrench.

Danny not only did he detested people calling him Daniel but even more so being stared at by this old man.

The old man kept holding the card for Danny to take. Danny wanted to decline the offer but felt weirdly compelled by the old man’s gaze to grab it. Like not taking it would create misfortune in the future.

"don't expect anything, my grades were down the grave hole,” Danny said in an attempt to discourage the old man, instead the old guy was content with the card leaving his hand.

With the card in Danny’s hand, he turned it around, the word’s Breed’s Finances written in a golden cursive style with the b and f being larger. In the corner was one of them medieval scary and spiky-looking sun with a grinning face.

The address was set on 150 B. Willingham, GHC 74115. Along with a phone number 551-22918791491.

It looked like a normal business card, and felt a little thicker. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The aberrant old man bid his farewell not without looking amused and chillingly arthritic. He gracefully slides in the car’s backseat. Waving His-left hand goodbye while smiling, the sound of the door cushioned just after the secretary slammed it shut.
Later putting herself in the front seat. The car’s engine starts its ignition, humming a baritone tune. Its front lights glow up almost blinding onlookers.

Driving off.

”Gus, Reine is the one making lunch today right? ”
The rugged old man with his soft eyes nodded in the validation of the young teen’s concern.

"Great, I was thinking about evolving my poison resistance today” with an worried smile.

There was not much talk between the two of them after that.

The the duo were closing in a building, it is sandwiched between a larger apartment complex. The deep Scarlet red colored bricks stood out amongst the light pigment of the other constructions.

Small windows stacked together, create an upside-down structure of a quarter moon. Beneath the windows big black letters spell out strand station on eggshell white ceramic tiles.

It had two bright red matching doors, scratches unveil the white of the door's base color. There were no door handles only an unreliable keyhole.

The rusty metal folding door next to the red doors had been bright blue once upon a time but eventually lost its edge after exposing the paint to too many years of Gotham’s humid weather.
Behind the metal folding, a wall of bricks was there, where the photo booth should have once been.

Old Gus and Danny stood there in front of the red doors. Old Gus knocked in a sort of secret morse code. Two slow soft knocks under the keyhole, then one hard knock over where the door handle should have been.
Lastly waiting for a response knock consisting of two rapid knocks and repay the knocks with a kick down in the door’s left corner.

The door was unlocked by a woman who was on the plump side of things and both of them went in.

Walking down the stairs Danny could already hear the young kids' laughter. Smelling the familiar and comfortable scent of acrid and bitter oil. Lights flicker randomly.
The sence of peace washed over him making him calm.

Danny was home.

Chapter Text

Strings of bubbling murmur hit the porcelain basin. Light flickers. Drops of murky tap water at the moment it makes contact with the cold floor.
The brown substance collected around the basin’s tap bottom, and white tracing had built further up after the time of usage.
A large mirror is barely stuck in its place on the wall. Much of the wall tiles had peeled off creating large rippled areas of darkened green against stained whites.

An orange towel hang on a hook and beneath it laid clothes neatly folded in the corner closest to the door leading out. Toilet Booths had been placed on one long row along the long side. Two booths lacked a door and one was hanging on by a thin thread.

Danny stood in front of the only working basin with running water. Bare-skinned solely in shorts. Scowled about his dirtied state. Touching the icky ends of his hair pointing out.

He could still feel nasty sewage substance on his skin. Yet, It can’t be compared to all the ghost ooze he had gotten on himself after a fight or when helping out in the laboratory.
Cleaning off ectoplasm was arduous. Extra so for being a halfa cleaning it up.

Ectoplasm was made of matter that inherently doesn't exist within the human world. Everything that consisted in the ghost zone, even its inhabitants were constructed with ectoplasm.

So it needed special components and equipment to dissolve its ghostly molecular structures. Something his parents were experts at. They were after all in the core ghost hunters.

Danny shivered thinking about it.

Danny holds up a transparent bag that includes hygiene articles like cheap soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo all in all a small and a package that is easy to carry on foot.

These types of hygiene kits are usually donated kindly by people to the shelters. Where they distribute it evenly amongst those who qualify as in need.

It was a precious package that was used sparingly.

He put down the transparent bag on the floor, he took out the shampoo bottle and soap. Using his hand to scoop up the roily water on himself over the bustling basin starting with his arms, legs, and lastly his chest and face.

Grabbing on the soap to clean his body free from that persistent sewage stench.
Unraveling his braid and dunking it down in the cold water. Message his scalp with shampoo to loosen whatever debris had stuck in his hair.

Danny did what he could to get rid of the foul smell. Still, it was tenacious enough that it adhered to him. Not easily giving in.

Finally done with washing himself, He frowned at the image of himself in the mirror in front of him.

He hadn’t looked at his reflection in years nearly not recognizing himself.

He was supposed to look like a regular healthy eighteen-year-old young adult but even so, his face and body were regardless of that of an underweight fourteen-year-old kid.

Weight loss has caused his skin to be saggy and bones to protrude, offering knobbingness while sharp angles make him seem frail.
His eyes have a pinpoint look to them, pinched and dull. Danny’s completion is pale and waxy, with an almost greasy look to him.

Sure Danny had not been the picture of health before with his sleep cycle meaning sleep whenever and wherever there was a time and place for a nap.
His eating habit wasn't that great either. With Ecto-contaminated sausages coming alive to bite you’re ass off and burnt to a crisp. The best his mother could do was black and crispy.

His dad was the considerably better one of both his parents. Either it was too much salt or a simple cereal bowl with milk and ham a lot of ham. In other words, at least eatable food.

Tho when it comes to cooking, he and Jazz weren't any better either. It was either take away, sandwiches, nasty’s, or asking Tucker to bring food his mother made. That woman could make one hella good enchiladas.

Making one appreciate the free school lunches more.

Despite that, he at least had bright eyes, taught skin that gives off a glow, and a little baby fat.

Now a mere shadow of his former self. Would he dare say he looks more half-dead than anything?

How ironic.

Danny snapped together his eyebrows while tightening his jaw as his eyes bored further into his reflection. Unable to come in turns with himself not to glance all too long.
Wet raven hair flowed heavily down, and drops of water drips gently into the porcelain basin. The water running down feels cold against the skin.

He walked over to where the towel hung. Firstly drying his hair by rubbing the towel when tilting his head down.
Then dry the rest of him before putting on the clothes. Putting back the soap and shampoo into the bag leaving it neatly on the floor for the next person.

Danny proceeds to leave the bathroom when being greeted by the scene of kids swarming eagerly around three adults.
It was on this day once a week they would venture out to the library. To either find or return a book they liked. It was a way for the kids to gain knowledge and escape from reality.
A much-needed break for young minds.

It puts a smile on Danny's face seeing these kids so pumped up about going.

There were laughing and shouting. One bounced out of excitement bumping into the next kid standing beside them. The kids noticed him and waved their hands cheerfully at him. Calling out for him.

He waved back in response to them cheerfully.
Seeing those small childish smiles put him at ease. Thinking about those times he would go to the library and borrow books about subjects like astronomy or just Zorro.
He wanted to follow up with them and tag along.
The thing that stood in his way to doing so was the fact that you needed some sort of identification like an ID card to even get a library card.

All records of his identification and history had been confiscated and destroyed.

Yet, He did have a sort of ID.

But that ID wasn't something he wanted to be in the open with. The risk of being found out would be higher then. Exposing him easier to them that way. Danny reached his hand to the back of his neck. Scratching it is unable to feel easy on the topic.

Thinking back, he could maybe ask if someone could borrow one of the books he used to read while he was a pre-teen like a backyard astronomer’s guide, written by Terance Dickinson or Zorro.

He would be really thankful if they could borrow The book Hubble’s legacy. That book was filled with thirty years of discovery through the Hubble telescope’s lens.
Named after the American astronomer Edwin Hubble. Who discovered that the universe is expanding.

It was supposed to be filled with images of the vast growing space in that book. Though Hubble is incapable of taking pictures of the sun and mars due to them being too bright.
It could still take photographs such as the veil nebula.

Located 2,100 light year's away from Earth in the constellation Cygnus where a supernova remnant lies. That Veil nebula is that made up of a cloud containing ionized gas and dust created 10,000 years ago.
All because of a star twenty times larger than the earth’s sun self-detonated, spewing plasma into the dark sky.
The shockwaves and debris from the aftermath carved and weaved the intertwining filaments into the Veil Nebula’s shape.

There were a total of six snapshots taken by Hubble showing only tiny fractions of the nebula.

About the whisps of glowing filamentary structures, the enhanced details regarding various hues and threads of ionized gases as they intertwined, made up the hot gas cloud.
Ionized oxygen is seen in this lushly blue color while ionized hydrogen and nitrogen flutter its red vibrant glow.

Unable to make up his mind.

Danny watched as the group disappeared with the last adult around the corner following the rundown signs. He could hear thumps and klacks transition between themselves before becoming softer and softer the further the group strolled elsewhere.

Danny didn't linger long and walked past the pillars, the broken benches and the three thrashed ticket booths not giving anything a second glance, only jumping over subway barriers without hesitation. Leaving the ticket hall. Going down the many steps of the stairway.

The subway platform was a bit chilly, there was almost nobody there except for a handful of people flocking around these flaming barrels. Not uttering words, mostly keeping to themselves.
Lamps could bearly lit up the most darkened corners. Two sets of subway track one on each side of the platform.

Danny chooses an empty spot from the furthest barrel. Sitting down. Wet hair tangling down over his shoulders. It's heavy from the water. It did not smell as bad as before, yet it did have the scent of dead fish lingering.

They are sounds of sizzling and occasionally popping.

Colors of orange, blue, and yellow, and the outlines of red dance and sway like tiny ghosts. Small glowing sparks raise, floating, only fading gradually then disappearing completely when it is out of reach from their source.

It is hypnotic, how it dances without sorrow spellbinding the spectator with its magnetic enchantment.

Nostalgic recollections of nights out into the unknown wilderness. Grilling hotdogs on an open fire using long sticks provided by nature. The happy laughs that eco after a marshmallow got burnt to its core by a blunder.

The scorching warmth caressed the mosquito-bitten skin.

An everlasting reminder of the fun of youth.

Danny sat close to the fire, burning brightly within a burn barrel standing on a pair of concrete bricks. It retained drilled holes on the bottom parts of the barrel to provide oxygen to the fiery blaze.
Open fires, such as this fire burning within a barrel were not permitted in Gotham city’s borders.
It was hazardous according to the laws of the state and the fire department. Not even burning leaves was legal.

But in what other way was there to get the warmth? And there was no one to enforce that law so nobody cared.

The sweet undertones of syrup and brown sugar crosse his mind, while sniffing in its inviting odor.

Wearing an extra-sized gray tank top and a pair of beige pants. Dark grey spots on his tank top formed were his wet hair lay on it.

The blaze glimmer in the reflection of his icy-blue eyes.

He tirelessly stares into the burning flames not being able to let it go from his sight. Captivated by it. Feeling the heat flushing on his skin.

A white cup neatly ornated with colorful flowers slides beneath his nose. Breaking the spell cast on him by the fire.

He looks up meeting the gaze from two hassle eyes and brunette short locks.

It did not matter how many years had passed or how tuff life was for this old woman. Her feminine features remained and she aged like a bottle of fine wine. It was only the small dark bags under her eyes and her exhausted expression that were of concern.
"do you want tea? I made it, so it should be able to soothe your body,” Rosé said calmly. Giving a lopsided grin.

Tea was not his favorite kind of beverage. Coffeé was the way to go to drink he would choose at all times. Its bitter-sweetness mixed up with a certain amount of acidity from its sourness. While its smoked nutty smell left with a herby and flowery aftertaste.
A couple of cups of coffee would always fill him up with enough energy to last the day of fighting ghosts like as early as three in the f**king morning and almost failing the class courses.

”thank you” he uttered, appreciating her genuine gesture nonetheless.

She nodded and kept about two ft length apart between them. Her eyes moved from side to side. Thinking about something.

A light citrus and grassy fresh aroma allured him closer. He held onto the cup with both his hands. Observing the tea’s light lime-green color before taking a sip.
The tea feels and tastes smooth on his tongue. Brightening his ambiance and a sense of freshness poured over him.

It wasn’t bad per se but still not the coffeé level good he thought.

He waits, until taking another sip of his tea. It is not too hot or too cold, it's just perfectly good enough to warm up his body a bit.

"Danny, your clothes have been gathered together with the rest, Mary and James are taking the full monthly clothes load to Waddle’s laundromat” she spoke softly, wrinkling her eyebrows.

Danny stayed silent while occasionally making sounds when drinking his tea.
He was unsure what to say.

"I don't know how you got yourself so dirty. But I am glad you are not hurt dear” her voice range of contentment. A small thin grin made its way onto her face. She holds her body limp and close.

Danny kept his silence and did not give much of a response. There was no way he would tell about his little adventure about escaping from the cops and the trip through the sewers.

”Annie is doing an ambulatory care visit at Dr. Thompkins’s clinic”

Dr. Leslie Thompkins has a good reputation among the people on the streets. Unlike regular hospitals, she runs a nonprofit clinic in the northeastern part of the crime alley.

According to the older adults, she was the only doctor brave and had compassion enough to stay and help during the period when Gotham was cut off from the mainland. Due to an earthquake.
At that time when criminals escaped from Arkham, roaming free without consequences.

A Doctor that lives by the Hippocratic oath. To not harm and help anyone in need. Even when that said one is a criminal or substance user. She was the one people would go to when injured.

In other words a badass in her regards.

Danny did not need to worry. Annie was in good hands. So was the baby too.

He drank more sips of his tea Danny rather feeling refreshed before peeking over to Rosé. Her eyebrows were knit together and lowered. That small grin that previously existed dragged its corners down. Those hazel eyes of hers were unfocused and glossy.

Something was going on in her mind that Danny couldn't decipher. Reading minds was not his kind of ability. Yet he understood that something was troubling her.
He peered into the teacup, the miniature light green reflection of himself waved, and then was engulfed by the moving lights from above.

Pops and fizzles from the flames echo in the damp platform. Coughs are gradually heard in a rhythmic tide. Scents like a gasoline compound with an earthy trail float lightly in the air.
Danny let out a harsh breath then hunched forward wrapping his arms around his legs and clamorously sipping his tea, gaining back Rosé’s attention.

Bobbing his head back while slurping the very last drops of tea all full-mouthed. Those pale and dry hands of his hold the cup in a tight grip. Bluish tints on his fingertips together with vertical ridges in the nails are indistinguishable by untrained eyes.

Rosé winced showing a frown upon gazing at Danny. Her expression borders between annoyance and somberness.

Danny chuckled, he imagined what she was thinking. Grinning mischievously.

”Could you help me brush my hair? honestly, I hate to have comb out this wet tangled dog hair of mine" he uttered while threading a hand through his wet long hair. Playing with it for a bit.

He then stretched out one of his hands holding the cup showing that it is empty, wanting to give it back.
The elderly woman received the cup with both of her hands touching Danny’s hand in the process. She starts shivering. Looking more concerned upon those small hands of Danny’s.

"yes, certainly but only if you eat more hun” Rosé’s voice sounded harsh when emphasizing the two words eat more. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Making her statement clear to Danny.

"don’t bet on it! but I will try" Danny gave a mirthless laugh and propped his chin on his lap. Wrapping once again his arms around his legs.

Chapter Text

White puffs of clouds were carried away on the blue-grey sky by the restless breeze coming from the east.
The sound of bells tintinnabulates, the cathedral’s small bells chime as soft as a psalm while the big ones rumble like thunders. Playing Melodies with a limited range of rhythmic notes.

Muffling the city buzz.

Dr.Occult stands in front of a flower shop’s large window displays, eyeing a small pot of pansies. Quietly observing the yellow and purple flowers with grey agate-colored eyes.
There are plenty of bright and eye-catching flowers more cheerfully colored than the small pansies. Bouquet arrangements in baskets or vases demand attention from the viewer.

So unlike the pansy which is not a brazen flower and it does not stand prideful nor does it force its allure. Its placid upturned face and its petals seem to be only asking for a glimpse of attention, to think of them, keeping them in your thoughts.

Dr. Occult had his normal stoic expression yet in the face of these small petite flowers, his features were softened giving a lighter air. Then hiding away his face with his trilby hat.

The bells stop their song in the Coventry district unraveling its natural city sounds of cars and young students from the nearby university and high school. Many students gathered in cafés taking a relaxing break from their studies. Drinking their choice of beverages and eating sweets like cinnamon buns.

Dr.Occult takes his steps away from the window. Having no more time to waste.

Following the road down with his hands in the trench coat's pockets. Stopping his wander in front of a large and old-looking building reminiscent of a Greek structure. Heavy air loomed over it.

The G. Memorial morgue.

Some things needed to be done in this building.

Inside the death gurneys rolled in from one place to the other. Technicians wear safety garbs protecting every inch of their body from face masks to booties. Wheels squeak and the obvious sounds of thrum coming from threads could be heard. Bodies wrapped up in white cloths.

Within the waiting room, there were no extra Avangate decorations. neither paintings nor plants that may distract the eyes, keeping things around simplistic and sterile.

Bright light from above brightens every corner of the long white spaces. Killing bacteria that might would had grown in the dark.

Locked doors are secured with keypads yet there are those higher security level doors locked with card swipe entries.

A fly enters the waiting area that is connected to a long hallway. Flying past the police room and the prayer room.

The fly flies with confidence as if it had air control guiding its path. Along the long corridor room ventures to the lobby complete with soft benches and a coffeemaker.

Landing on a window, his wings matching the leaded windows under his six feet. He proceeded to move over the glass like taking an ordinary stroll in the park. Enjoying his little walk by buzzing its wings loudly. Stopping moving when a door to the doctor's office opens.

Out came an old female in a white robe with short, curly, and silver-grey hair. Her hot cocoa skin shines like gold in the light. Round golden earrings hung from her ears. She exuded confidence while putting strength into her steps.

On a whim out of some impulsive sort, the fly left the window and ventured towards the woman. Following her.

Making his presence known by the buzzing of wings. The doctor gawks her eyes at it. Frowning.

Annoyed, she try to shun it forcefully away by waving her hand at him. In an attempt to shoo him off.

But the fly evaded quickly her endeavors and kept its distance while following her into the postmortem & autopsy room.

The first thing that could be said about this room was its intense antiseptic, bitter smell with undertones of artificial fragrances containing soaps and cleaners. The more heavy sterile stench fumes up from the floor.

The air in this room goes through the backdraft and front ventilation which effectively creates an air pocket that keeps bodily and other fumes away from the workers.

In the middle of the room are three autopsy tables out of stainless steel. Fully rotatable to 180° and its height is adjustable. The work surface features a high, profiled surround and a seamlessly welded basin with a tube overflow and a sieve insert is installed at one end of the tables.

Additionally, the table's top is equipped with waterproof, soundproofing and features a negative inclination arranged diagonally to the drain. All power connections are built into the base and can be easily accessed utilizing an inspection opening.

Shelves of stainless steel hold important documented paperwork regarding dead patients. There is a work table completed with drawers for sterilized equipment and a sink with hoses.

A prepared steel tray lay in waiting with tools and cutting implements on the table. Hanging above the work table is a scale used to weigh organs.
The needed clear space enables pathologists to write down findings of what could be the grounds for natural or unnatural causes of death.

Next to the work table is a hazardous trash bin where they could throw away disposable materials.

carefully placed metal bins that contain organs and other sorts of evidence on their shelf together with glass bottles of liquid.

That lady puts on a face mask and gloves. Knotting to her back a safety garb.

She disappears Into another room through a thick-looking door.

The fly waits in anticipation, calmly buzzing for the doctor to return. She soon returned yet not alone.

Her hands push out a moveable cart with white clothes and a humanoid figure beneath it, pushing the cart along the wall. Two blueish-tinted white feet sticking out and a little red tag on one toe.

These types of carts are designed with special fiberglass. A dull, muted-gray surface on the fiberglass the top is light, making it easier to clean, and is excellent for photography.

There is no longer a need for X-ray film beneath the corpse. Making it possible to use X-rays right on the same cart, lifting the workload. Just rolling the cadaver into the X-ray room is an easy task.

The woman continues her work unknowingly about the pair of eyes watching.
Doing her job without taking a pause writing down her findings in a notebook, progression where swift. Poking around within an incision around six inches, dragging bits and components of stale cold bullets. Dropping gently each new piece on the metal tray. On impact, it rings barely.

Using projectiles to Identify the rifled firearms that have unique markings that result from the spiraling present muzzle and can be divided into class characteristics that can identify the type of firearm used.

The projectiles also demonstrate individual characteristics unique to individual firearms and can be replicated and compared with projectiles recovered from controlled firing to identify the exact weapon used.

Hornady TAP 124gr bullets, it is meant for defense and they made a running change to the TAP ammunition thirteen years ago this includes changing from Blackened Nickel Cases to Bright Silver Nickel cases. Using the Silver Nickel cases has all the advantages of Blackened Nickel and the added benefit of being able to see the cartridges more clearly in low light conditions as well as when checking for loaded chambers.

"muzzle velocity: 1100 fps, muzzle energy: 339 ft. Ibs, these bullets can expose the holder to lead, known to affect reproduction or causes cancer”

It was quiet except for the annoying buzz of wings flying through the air.
She saw the fly’s color fluctuate between blue and green in the shimmering light from the lamp hung down from the ceiling over the stationed dead body.

Without much delay at the time the fly stopped, it’s buzzing. As if it understood her annoyance with him.

”they are and were used extensively by law enforcement agencies, a good option for a service-sized handgun. This was due in part to the fact that the propellants used in the loading of this ammunition were engineered to minimize muzzle flash. This ammunition is non-corrosive, in boxer primed, reloadable brass cases and its accuracy is good”

Her voice was slow and composed. While the fly patiently waits for her to end her train of thought while observing the dead body of a man. Flying right across the table.

Blue Vinyl gloves are on her hands. She picked up one bullet and examinations it by turning it around.
Her gaze is sharp and focused. Never even once changing that sturdy rock expression until finishing examining it, snickering.

”It's a little slow for a 124gr slug and it has struggled to expand when shot from a short barrel”
She put it back gently on the metal tray, metal against metal made the ringing klirr soften.

Those hands of hers went over the gun holes which were piercing through the cold and thick dead flesh. Pushing it slightly down.

"continuous calm and focused making the perfect shot hitting the vital regions, due to the upwards slanting angle than perhaps an experienced woman within the law enforcement, tho the culprit could also be short male still both possibilities may have lead poisoning”

The pathologist was excited for her research when a knock came out of nowhere, it put her in a sour mood. She looked at the door leading out towards the looby than Ignoring it. The knock came again louder than before. She further continues to ignore it.

It did not take long for a final knock after that it was quiet. Now the psychologist could work at ease without being disturbed.

”Excuse me for my intrusion doctor Carter” uttered a male voice which caught her attention.
A man in a trenchcoat and a trilby hat. Straight taken out of the 1930s detective noir movies. Handsome at that. Emerged through the door defying the natural laws of physics. He was in words unhindered by it.

Vigilant eyes darted around collecting information while fixing his green tie neatly. His deep male voice gave away an air of solid solidarity, it was so very easy on the ears one may perhaps have fallen in love with it.
It was creamy sweet and that of salty bitterness at the end, bringing the mind to caramel candy that melts in your mouth.

"What the F**K!?" she cried out of shock, taking a step back.

The man skimmed his eyes on her and then at the cadaver. He came right in front of the pathologist and the dead body on the table. Not without a fair distance between them. His Eyes glanced in a never-ending hunt for details.

The female doctor named Carter was at first confused yet in mere seconds her confusion contorted into annoyance.

”SHAMUS!! do you not have any shame I haven't even finished with today's work on this fat F**ker”

”Because of your skill, I assumed you would be done by now Joyce”

"You have too high hopes for me Richy! You know it takes at least a week or more to analyze samples of tissues, you made a real Brodie there MISTER Ghost detective”

”as a head MD you should show more pride in your work”

”well sip it you old dick, a busy muffin like me don't like booshwash”

”yes, I figured that much over the years,” he said while fidgeting in his pocket taking out three Polaroid pictures. One showing near a hospital, the next one near the Gotham docks at Port Adams. The third and last one is in an alleyway. He lay the pictures inline over the cadaver.

Dr. Carter gazes at these pictures laying in front of her.

”these..?!”

There was a moment of realization in the woman's expression as she tweened her eyebrows together. She looked back at the man, his face was prim and grave more so than before.

”Low down, Joyce” he uttered not in a demanding way but with a sense of urgency. Quickness for what is debatable.

Dr. Joyce Carter sighed, looked a bit defeated. She slowly made her way to one of the stainless steel shelves. Her hands went through documents and more documents.
”I should had know this case was you twos type, whatever voodoo or magic it is, those faces haunts me in my sleep”

Her fingertips finally stopped on a thick folder with lots of documents. She grimaced out of victory.

Tossing the folder with documents toward Dr.Occult. He caught it with ease. Opening it up and going through the papers.

”keep the copy, I have already sent the original results to the GPD, respiratory failure which was than followed by cardiac arrest leading to death, no signs of disease, no damaged to the lungs or signs of fluids, likewise the thyroid gland have not been damaged and the blood vessels on the neck is intact.
there are however high concentration levels consisting of cortisol and epinephrine, no drugs or medicine involved, the rigor mortis reached its maximum stiffness too quickly usually outside on cold nights it would take at least twelve hours, thus all the victims had intensive physical activity before time of death”

There was silence for a few seconds, the sound of paper switching from side to side was the prominent noise that existed in those mere seconds. A loud thump disturbed the silence, it was Dr. Occult who closed the folder. Gently he laid away the folder within his trench coat.

"get your sorry ass into the cooler and make your own conclusion, Case number 0391-6744, -45,- 46 with blue tags. On to the left side, door 10B, and no smudging salvia sage or something, you hear me” she said mockingly.

Dr. Occult nodded silently, following Dr. Carter’s instructions. Walking in the path to the large thick door where Dr. Carter had earlier gone through to retrieve a dead body. A custom-built walk-in refrigeration system that is engineered to maximize usable space.

The fly who had been lenient left its position buzzing after Occult. As it nears the door opening determined to fit through following after him into the room.

Cold air washed over in waves from above, its source coming from the cooling valve fabricating an air temperature of just around two Celsius.
Higher than two Celsius would abbreviate the time to preserve the body's conditions since it would stimulate a rapid decomposition.

In this cold room, it was possible to see your breath hurling around in mid-air.

Trailing along the left side of the room’s wall Dr. Occult passes numerous metallic doors. Stopping when in front of a metallic door marked with 10B.

Opening up the door. He finds feet welcoming him from beneath white fabrics. There were four bodies only the top three having blue tags attached to their toes.

He gazes upon the three dead bodies, concentrating on something that captures his attention.

Dr. Occult puts his hands on the metal board which one of the bodies lay upon.
Dragging out the more recently dead body. The heavy-duty stationery showed its strength and tenacity By carrying the dead adult body into full view.

It didn’t take long for the fabric to be tossed off, revealing a male body with dark brown hair. The face is stuck in a frightened state.

The male body in question is not that fit like an athlete but just going above the average.
A Y-shaped incision goes from the tips of the shoulders on each side diagonally down, joining at the middle of the chest. Roughly between the nipples. The incision then continues down vertically along the middle line of the front body, only stopping at the pubis.

Occult’s eyes scan the dead body, firstly looking at the feet closely, finding blue tints on the toes, fingertips and the lips.

Working his gaze up to tiny blood vessels that had ruptured in the eyelids and small red dots, like pin pricks. These dots appeared around the upper parts of the cheeks and around the eyes.

The skin's complexion was overall a greyish pale hue.

The good doctor hover both his hands over the corpse.

Chanting words in an odd tongue. Bright golden lights forms into small spheres, spinning horizontally sucking the cold air within themselves. The balls of light keep spinning intensely as tiny specks of green liquid are drawn from the dead body, floating up towards them.

Similar to how the wax globules within a lava lamp rise up from the hot lamp due to density, and just like it too, those tiny specks combine into a solid splotch when reaching the cold air circulating the spheres.
Instead of going back down, however, it stays floating. Wobbling a bit until it is compacted by pressure becoming a small hard glass bead covered by an invisible protective Coating of magic.

Dr. Occult snatches the small bead, holding it between three fingers. Different types of green swirl around violently inside, shaking it. It was in such way that it reminded of a wild beast caught in a trap desperately fighting to escape it's snare.

The small bead continues to jerk. Dr. Occult however stares on it silently, his expression manage to become more stoic than before, putting it in his pocket.

Those light orbs disappear and the body is tucked back inside the shelf. Closing the metallic door.

The room returns back to it's normal cold state. It’s Ventilation system is heard coughing until it hums. The fly however flutter and buzzes as it would be irate for an unknown reason. Preparing its lift off.

Before even reaching out for the door that would lead to the autopsy room. Instead Occult went for his inner pocket within his trenchcoat.

with a quick hand motion from the detective, holding in his palm a circular object akin to an amulet. He moved his body to face the fly.

"aag aatma ko raahat detee hai! ! " he called out, stretching his arm out having the amulet towards the fly.

It was caught by blue flames, it's body bulged and Bubbled. High-pitched whines flared, it's body revealed by the flames transfigured it into that distorted beastly silhouette with multiple set of eyes, it could be described as hideous.

An nauseating putrid smell of leather being tanned over a fire reeked in the air. The screeching wails continue and it is accompanied with a sound identical to the noise of a sizzling plate of fajitas.

If one were to have touched it at that moment, one would have felt the acrid touch of melted and burning plastic.

Black smoke rises, twirling as if the wisps were dance partners of ancient myth. Covering the ceiling in a sea of ebony.

After thirty seconds of the smoke touching the ceiling, loud continuous beeping alerts throughout the room ranging about between 65 decibels and 120 decibels.

Water rains down from the now-active fire sprinkle system.

The beeps and rush of waterdrops wash over the creature’s wailing, damping it to a point were it is but a background noise.

The blue flames continue to burn steadily as the water near it evaporates due to the flames being hotter than regular fire.

Dr. Occult stands still never taking away his eyes from the creature, his pose is undisturbed as it meets its demise.

The type of trench coat he wore retains its light brown even when water drops are gushing onto him.

It, the creature completely turned black falling apart. Like grains of sand, it slips down together with big chunks falling on the floor, the big lumps tend to have bits of blue ember still flaring little light. Water mixed with the ash substance. Producing a muddy ash clay.

Dr. Occult kneeled on the floor, stretching out his hand and digging deep into the ash clay mixture. Grabbing it, feeling the wet sandy material between his fingers and how it clumps together.

Rubbing the ash mud amid his finger tops.

"an artificial monitoring spirit, now who is the caster causing these misfortunes? ” he said while focusing on the muddy ash between his finger tops.

Chapter Text

Danny sat in a corner near the stairs, his back against the flat and cold surface of the stairway construction. minding his own business carving out a large figure still in a triangular and bulky form.

He wasn’t thinking just existing in a sort of trans-like state, never losing his concentration. Letting his hands move on their own while keeping both hands behind the cutting edge.

He felt a sense of pleasure whenever catching sight of pieces of wood curling up at the end when pushing the knife's egg on the wooden surface along the lines Danny had drawn out. Having a sense of control when roughing out the groundings. Chip by chip, carefully even the edges of the wood.

Ripping those curly ends and listening to its deeply soft sound was pure satisfaction for him.

Setting down the redundant wood tinder into a paper candy bag next to him. It was meant so that he could keep his space neat and clean. The paper bag was not that big, its outer appearance has a simple white and red checker pattern. It was half full at the moment.

Danny picks up a slice of carrot bread on his side, munching on its corner.

The carrots in the carrot bread help it becomes sweet and moist assisting the sourdough to have an enjoyable texture.

The old couple Mister and Miss Potts had come across this bread when doing their trip to southern parts of Gotham proper. Apparently, a grocery store had tossed them away while it was still in its package unopened. Right into the garbage just because the best-before date was the day before.

What some people don’t know is that stores throw away perfectly fine food, this is due to that companies can't guarantee high quality after a certain date. Since it is also made with sourdough it has a longer shelf life because of its natural acidity chasing away bacteria.

Light dances within his eyes when eyeing the timber's different shades of light forest browns, those many soulful hues that calms the spirit and heart.

Danny treats the unfinished wooden figure with great care and reverence tracing his fingers along the straight grain.

Child whispers hear from above, Danny gets glimpses of a bunch of hair bundles glancing out from the edge. A couple of eyes periodically peek down at him.

Danny Pinches his nose bridge making an exhausted mumbling sound. Those ice-cold blue eyes of Danny’s seem to soften when observing those small round eyes piercing his being.

These kids had been very persistent lately, following him around, multiple times and asking him to make toys for them. Sure he had made some superhero wood sculptures before and given them away to the youngsters.

He had thought these harmless gifts could brighten the kids' mode of not having expensive stuff. Yet in this moment, Danny contemplated if that had been the wisest choice to do but He couldn’t simply have dismissed them at those times. Being unable to shun them as they looked at him like Cujo pleading for a belly rub.

They are just innocent kids.

Danny remembers that age was he thought everything was exciting and fun. Playing around with his chemistry play kit he had gotten from his parents. In an attempt for him to get invested in science at an early age Just like them.

It did kinda work, too bad it had a dead end.

One of the experiments he could think of that was amassed in his memory was when he learned how to produce elephant toothpaste, using 35% hydrogen peroxide, dish soap, food coloring, and potassium iodide. He had made a giant mess in the kitchen. Toothpaste covered the whole room.

His parents had been both proud and distraught that Danny had not worn their safety gear when doing his experiment.

But at that time he could remember that he did not want to wear that hazmat suit because it was uncool so instead he argued with them that it was too big for him. They retaliated in return by retailing it to his size.

”Sorry I’m full on deck so maybe next time kiddos!” Danny said glancing in the direction of those curious small eyes.

Each kid gazed intensely, they didn't bother to hide anymore, running down the stairway whilst making a small mosh pit of toddlers. They run and jump aggressively, pushing and bumping into each other.

Or Kinda.

Like the Wall of Death, where the audience is really feeling the beat. when the crowd splits into halves which then run at each other during a music drop or prompt from the artist.

Slamming into one other in good fun.

Nobody is badly hurt in either of these scenarios by doing that. Just small bruises here and there. So why is it called a wall of death? When everyone is constantly helping out if someone got hurt or fell.

Don't really know, that was always Sam’s area of expertise.

At the same time as they jolted their small body frames with mischievous grins on their faces, their footsteps sounded like small thunder clouds while sprinting away, Danny felt awkward for becoming the catalyst for this chaotic hurdle.

Some Adults shout out loud for the kids to slow down a bit and even go so far as to catch one or three kids in their progress of nearly tumbling into the tracks.

There where scolding about safety involved after that it lead to pats on their head.

Things were lively like normal, and Danny observed their interactions closely.

In this group of theirs, were a few families who couldn't afford to live in apartment complexes and mostly old folks that tried to make an honest living but had been pushed back due to circumstances unknown to Danny.

It could be that nobody wanted to have them around because of their old age and frail bodies. The fact that they lived here meant that there was no other place for them to be.

There were no families that could or would take them in. Danny could relate to being alone.

Danny glazed around observing the aged adults finding the old couple Mr and Mrs Potts snuggling with each other, something about old married couples nuzzling was endearing. It was a sweet scene in a place that did not have anything but shelter to give.

A mother named Clair was breaking off a fight between her children. A little boy at nine with brown curly hair and a girl at eleven with copper-colored mermaid braids stands out.

Cadhan and Maeve, Apparently these two kids had a knack for trouble. Maeve is the oldest of the two and is the more sensible bossy older sibling type while Cadhan is well just the wild goose with a knife.

Maeve and Cadhan stood while tossing words with each other.

Their relationship had some similarities to Danny’s and Jazz’s sibling's affection for each other.

Seeing Maeve scold Cadhan for saying something foolishly or Cadhan bickering with his sister.

It was like peeking at the past for Danny.

Seeing them interact with each other had him feel the friction of emotions. Feelings of being an incomplete jigsaw puzzle while those last pieces had gone missing.

He was happy they had each other yet he noted that there was this chest pain growing within him leaving him anguished. It hit harder than any punch Skulker or Vlad could muster.

Yet in this instance, Danny could feel nothing more but this pure pressure trying to crush him to a smudge and voices telling him that he is the one at fault for still existing. That he had no right to keep on going.

He missed them dearly.

Jazz would have talked to him and let him slowly open up. Danny had a vacant smile while thinking about his sister. Imaging her whispers of comfort, encouraged him to take deep breaths.

Just like the times, she helped him to calm down when facing a problem. He felt better. Yet it was not good enough for him.

Putting down his knife along the line of his other tools like chisels and gouges onto a fabric. Rolling it with his tools into a sausage-like shape, keeping them safe. Maintaining the still unfinished wooden figure resting in his lap before laying it down aside.
He felt uneasy, dirty and something vile impinge upon him and it gave Danny the imprint of something trying to strangle him, suffocating him till there is no breath left.

He needed air.

Danny hastily looked for something then found what he searched for and put it into one of his pockets. He stood up and then hastily walked. Laying his hand on the railing before taking his first step. His steps are without sound even though it would have noise if he were fully a human.

At the top, he heard audible angry grunts coming from the directions of the entrance. Danny made his way past the closest bench nearest the broken ticket booths.

”dat divy frisby better fetch me ma ciggies!!”

Danny followed the loud shouts and then looked up the stairs to find an old and tired-looking man. He sat on the end of the stairway His gaze felt detached from this world and his blank expression was aimed right at Danny.

”you don’t look all that smart today spaceman,” Danny said, venturing up to the old man. Resting his back against the cold wall. Crossing his arms together. Danny could perceive that he could breathe better here near the entrance.
Breathing in the polluted city air coming from the cracks of the door. He felt better just standing near it.

The children even when they had known him longer than Danny were wary of him. Maybe it was the smell. Maybe it was that this man had a shaved head and no facial hair showing off his sharp features.
It gave him an impression of being intimidating. A pudgy smokey smell surrounds him. Dressed in layers of clothes and a loose long brown double-seed stitched scarf.

He does have very bad luck in poker and can throw a real fit when losing. He is quite a bit foul-mouthed. Throwing curses here and there.

He would continuously call Danny Wheat and chase away rats, keeping their food safe.

A brass immigrant from Britain, who ended up here somehow.
Reine, the old man, kinda acted like the right-hand man of Old Gus at times. Taking charge of things when he wasn’t present. Him sitting guard at the entrance was unusual.

”dat meff frisby is a melt”

” Nah she probably got goosed from dealing with an auld fella like you, spaceman,” Danny said mockingly with a sly smile as if knowing the answer beforehand. Looking down at the old man's distraught face.
Danny had picked up a few scouse words when exchanging conversations with him. Some words sounded funny Danny thought.

”Are you messin? keep being a fog horn will ya”

"be glad she ain’t that Bootle buck ex of yours I always hear about” Danny snickers finding it funny that this man looked intimidating as a bear. Could look as if he was stuck in a pit.

"Gegg it wheat!!” The old guy sounded agitated but there was a smile.

Danny shakes his head implying that he wouldn’t shut up. Course if he shut up how would then tease the old scouse.

Danny dug into one of his pockets taking out a plain-looking white and red cigarette package, from the Marlboro brand. It has traces of being opened multiple times with dents. Showing it off by waving it in front yo the man sitting down.
Reine snatches the cigarette package right out of Danny's hand.

” What a buggeroo, yew bent it. Dat nitty nora will be cob on tonight”

”you gonna squeal on me or something”

There were times you had to be tricky and if that meant stealing a package of cigarettes from someone that should lay off anything that could be rendered as an addiction. Then she should understand the sentiment of him taking it. Right.

”Nah I'm no bizzie, I saw nutt'n but I know if Ya go into dem dairty jiggers dale marmalise ya”

”ohh even more reasons for me to go into the back alleys then,” Danny said enthusiastically in a joking manner.

”kidda, I should have already known ya would be dead from the neck up” Reine looked disapproving at the young boy's happy demeanor.

”I can fully inform you I'm dead from my toes and up”

”haha, cracking banter with ya wheat keeps me
chuffed”

”I could say I feel the same but then again I'm bad at lying”

Danny saw how Reine contemplated on something before smiling a wicked grin. Taking one cigarette out of its package. Fumbling with a lighter, in a few attempts of sparks a small fire flared up and he lit his cigarette. The man gives off a relaxed but sharp gaze. He moves his hand that holds the cigarette between his lips and huffs a heavy smoke.

A heavy smokey and pudgy smell included its scent in the moist cold air.

”cheeky bastard! I don’t wanna see you going out and stirring up shite”

”I'm just going out there to annoy some air, nothing more”

That was exactly what he was gonna do take a breather. Nothing more and nothing less.

”Just dursent go messin around. Be right back before six bells wheat, course dat old legal eagle will become tear-arse if not” he huffed out a small grey cloud of smoke in annoyance. The old man wrinkle his eyebrows for a moment gazing into the red glow of his cigarette.

”another thing be chary out there” Reine softly said with his rough and coarser voice.

Danny could see that there were something bothering the old scouse, like a stomach ache or a bad hair day couse having no hair always gives a bad day.

”yeah sure thing spaceman” Danny said acknowledging the worry. The old nan raised up from his place opening the red door.

A wave of air gushes straight at Danny's face. Light from the midday sun stroked its warmth on his skin.
The moment Danny steps out he felt unrestrained able to fully breathe. A newfound strength made him want to fly away on the wind's currents.
He missed flying, having a bird’s eyes view was a stunning sight to behold. Not anybody could see it only the lucky ones could.

Danny had been fortune enough to be able to see what he could from rooftops.

Danny listens to Gotham’s festive buzzing sounds of honking cars and peoples shouting.

Walking down the busy street not with a clear plan ahead of him.

Chapter Text

Making his way downtown, walking fast, passing faces, being unbound by the daily stress of the average life of a human going to school or work.

Blankly gazing ahead just stopping when facing a crossing. While others walk over the road during the green light. Danny stands at the crossroad's edge, feeling how people hastily pushed him from both sides. Seemingly making Danny uncomfortable by the closeness of the rushing crowds. His eyes silently fixate on something from the other side of the driveway.

His eyes focused on a family of four. The joyous expression plastered over their faces. How the youngest kid holds their mother's hand while gleefully devouring an ice cream.

The oldest sibling scolds their dad for being too embracing in public.

They seem delighted in the presence of one another.

A lump in his throat started to crop up. His muscles were stiffening and getting more tired just by looking.

The family's mood made Danny want to take another route. Having chest pain just by looking.

Stepping toward the direction that would take him to the most dense area with ghosts in Gotham City. Thinking that he would feel better if he were to get hold of a random ghost to speak to. Too bad there were just too many people around.

If he were to speak with ghosts in a crowded area then Danny would get labeled as crazy. That was something he had to avoid.

He was heading his way while strolling down the sidewalk. Drops of water fell on Danny's head gradually increasing. Determining that rain should soon shower the streets heavily.

People started pulling up colorful umbrellas and raincoats shielding them from the rain coming from above. At once it came down in a flash mob of rain. Tap-dancing upon rooftops and concrete paths is the same.

Danny pulled his hood over his head, it did very little to prevent him from being soaked. His clothes suck in the water with ease, growing darker pigments where the fabrics are wet.

Cold water drops slide down forced to follow the rules of gravity.
Drenched pathways invite playful feet, rewarding each step with a splash.

Feeling the cold and wet fabric rub against his skin made him wish for a warm cup of coffee.

He went idly wandering around stopping when he saw a nearby lying coffee shop that he had known about. Called the cauldron. Perhaps it was because of a family of bats called a cauldron, it would fit the theme of Gotham being the home of famous heroes.

The urge to sip the savory taste of its rich and dark flavors. Had grown immensely. It had been years of not tasting its rigorous taste.

With hesitation, Danny did not enter into the shop. He watched through the the window.

Without even smelling the aromatic mixtures of smells from newly baked bread to pastries cluster the air. Danny wanted to eat the sweet-looking sweets. Gatherings of people chatter loudly together with their friends around spaced-out tables with trendy chairs and padded seats. Those who are sitting alone work on laptops doing their work on comfortable seats with stacks of paper and empty coffee mugs standing on the tables next to them.

Shopping bags and purses dangling off the back of chairs.

He could picture the sounds of coffee grinders pounding freshly roasted coffee beans from the counter. The baked goods tidily hold their place in the glass cabinet, lining up in wait to be eaten.
Packages of different types of coffee beans sat on shelves with white ready to be bought.

It was easy to see that cozy warmth siped throughout the shop, the coffee shop's customers wore light clothes with jackets hanging on the sides. Smiling and chatting.

Danny's gaze went to the counter display, looking over at the menu reading $1,56 for the cheapest cup of coffeé. He searched through his pockets finding only $0,38. It wasn’t enough. He just needed $ 1,18 more to be set. Disappointed of clearly being insufficient with money. He sighs.

He lowered down his gaze hiding his face from onlookers. Droplets of water journey down his black strands of hair. Falling on the surface of his drenched clothes.

He couldn’t stand there for too long but it was a nice thought to imagine himself just sitting in there with a cup of coffee and a newly baked cupcake with his friends.

Danny stood there motionless for a moment.

Contemplating.

He then stepped back. Getting a small glimpse of the smiling group of friends before leaving the shop's windows.

Making a way through the crowd, the closeness of people made him want to push them all aside with force. Every bump was like a virulent insect bite. Growing more aggravating for each nibble.

Controlling himself felt difficult but manageable.

Danny Just walked the streets, not having a clear goal of where to go. Accept for him to unwavering keep walking. Some of these streets were still very unfamiliar to him.

If it had been Amitypark where he had grown up, then it would have been etched in every corner of his mind with a sharp knife.

Course it was his turf. His crypt. His home.

But this was Gotham and he had been there for a limited time of two months. It didn’t help that he preferred to play mole-man in the subway station since it felt more comfortable.

More safe.

Walking on these roads and avenues was a dolorous task however there were times it was better to stretch his legs than sit still in a dark and damp place.

He strolled down his path, passing sparsely spaced alleyways between buildings.

As his soles touch the road, Danny's toes bathed in the bequeath rain. It gurgles, bubbling as he walks, soothing in its coldness.

A rattling sound from a supermarket cart woke Danny's attention. It was one part of the normal street auditory makeup. An old cart, rusted and full of cans, a torn mattress, plastic bags, blankets, and cardboard boxes. All are covered with a tangible plastic sheet cover.

The cart shook as it passed over the uneven slabs, the shriveled old man behind it pushed the cart forward. A white dirtied beard traveled down the dark overcoat. Bearing a disposable rain poncho. Being able to keep mostly dry meant not freezing on those cold nights.

Danny had often a hard time determining what age people were on the streets. The reason why was because the streets took away once's years. Their priority was on keeping a raft afloat when it was doomed to plunge into the dark bottom of the sea.

One year could feel like five years. Sometimes it felt even longer.

There was a slight recognition in the man’s eyes facing Danny before averting his gaze. The harsh reality of street life taught its strict lessons of being isolated and avoiding trouble to ensure the best way to survive.

Walking further, observing more street dwellers taking shelter underneath whatever they could find.

There was a man on the steps to an apart. If it weren't for the freckles then his skin would be all white.
There were so many that his face was brown with small spaces of white.
It was as if small green grass tips struggled to glimpse through the golden-brown leaves of fall.
His hair was a perfect mop of red, it would have been lion-like had he not been so skinny. His old maroon t-shirt was small, clinging where it shouldn't and hanging loose where it shouldn't.

The concrete steps were damp from the rain, but he sat right on it like it was summer. Already the frigid cold water must have bled in. Surely he could feel it. Choosing to ignore it instead.

The man's arms were wrapped tightly around his knees that jutted up sharply.

Danny took in his face for as long as he could, the man was skeletal really. Cheekbones stick out far. His face had no trace of life other than the blue tints underneath those fixed eyes.

It was like he was breathing without really being alive. In his hand was a torn photograph.

Danny understood very well those sentiments of that man. Understanding that each person on the streets had similar stories to him.

Losing something precious to them.

Like the function to work normally in reality, these harsh situations cause one to view all the bad things more frequently.

Some would go as far as to drown themselves in psychedelic trips, losing more of their already fragmented souls.

Those did not last long on the streets. Without a burial or something to be remembered by, unnoticed and forever lost.

That's why Danny appreciated his twisted luck for being found by good people.

To be able to sleep safely and bathe in the humid warmth of the station.

If it weren’t for them then he might have become just like those city dwellers or worse becoming the terror those bastards thought he was.

The mere thought of their existence had Danny's blood boiling.

Those beasts, Danny couldn’t even call them humans in his mind for they were merely monsters he wanted to vanquish.

They were the reason for all this misery and destruction, for all the deaths of innocent lives.

Growing further incensed.

Danny bit his lips wanting to clear his mind before it became clouded.

Walking into an alleyway next to a shaggy building avoiding preying eyes.

Cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other.
There were a couple of boxes near garbage bags that had fallen or been recklessly tossed away on the ground with dents to show off.

The silent and tired ambiance grew within Danny when he entered the alleyway, and he started to stroll casually through.

The further he went into this alleyway, the more it gave out a strange feeling to Danny.

It was a surprisingly strange hollow ambiance, a heavy galling weight that perforated his skin.
In a sense a familiar chilling that made him shiver.

It was a rather raw ghostly chill. Absence of any type of warmth. Even before when being wet from the downpour he had taken solace that it would dry off when getting somewhere warm yet this newfound chill had him quiver.

A pain ebbs beneath Danny's skull similar to a balloon slowly being inflated, pressure mounting. Danny met with that kind of feeling like his lungs being replaced by black holes.

Pangs intensely throb through his chest, tightening its grip on him. He shallowly gasps for air.

His stomach was agitated and crumbled like a hockey player trying out figure skating for the first time with an off-balanced washing machine as a partner.

The wet and cold raindrops stroked his forehead, softening the ache a little.

He wanted to sit down to wait it out but he could not.

He could have turned hastily around, taking another route however Danny did not want to go back. Having a hunch that if he did just do that then something real shity might occur.

Causing him to keep sticking with going forth.

Instinctively avoiding any shadows. Walking wobbly in a narrow line. Constantly gasping for air. Struggling to keep his balance afloat. Holding tightly on his clothes over his chest.

The shadows felt dark as if hiding a fearsome beast. Whispering a voiceless call. Filled with fruitless words of promises. Closing it's distance between them.

Silently following. Watching. Suffocating him. Wanting to devour him.

Although not emerging into solid existence due to an invisible force. A barrier that was perhaps constraining and pushing it back to whatever realm it came from.

His muscles were growing tired. Aching. He didn’t know why these ailing situations kept continuing.

There was nothing in there but dark shadows. He restlessly spun his head to his sides. Coughing when not getting enough air.

His mind was occupied by thoughts of his pain.

Voices in his head were raised together to form a choir of cries. He almost lost his pose. Nearly about to lean on one of the walls beside him.

Danny felt a slight slimey touch on him, wanting to grab ahold of him. He reacted automatically from his experience when dealing with many ghost surprise attacks. He flared up a faint glowing neon green in his unoccupied hand. Turning around. Ready to defend himself from an upcoming ghost assault. Despite his state.

But nothing was there.

That there might be some type of eldritch horror lurking around. He thought.

But Danny couldn’t be sure either. Unable to fully focus on anything else than the unceasing predicaments be falling him.

Yet he can’t shake the feeling of being preyed upon by someone or something.

Whatever that was supposed to be, had an appetite, a beastly presence that gladly would sink its teeth into any innocent soul loitering around and devouring it with glee.

A bad feeling kept lurking.

Feelings of being small and weak against this presence gnaw on his bones. In tune with facing a predator ready to gulp up its prey with cheer and tenacity.

Furthermore, the reason for him to get out of there as fast as possible. Now speeding up his steps. Huffing and puffing out air. Shaken.

Danny stumbled out on the sidewalk, Profusely gasping for air. Sweating. The cold and wet stone beneath him felt welcoming. His throat cleared itself from the heavy smudge stuck in his lungs.

He lay there in puddles of water blindly gazing up as his vision gets blurred from rain coming into his eyes. His pain slowly lessens at the pace of a snail leaving its trails.

Angerly biting he’s teeth shut. His cold and wet clothes did not bother him at this moment.

It was like air. A weightless nothingness.

Rolling to the side, his hands on top of his head and harrowing laughter from the top of his chest.

People avoided Danny by going around him. Not giving him a helping hand. Nor giving him a second glance. They couldn’t be bothered with him. Nor did he want them to.

He had gathered near a city sign, reading the name of the boxing club 'Nine Lives'. Dragging himself underneath the small area of its sheltering rooftop. Sitting in a position most comfortable for him.

Danny knew he had to get on the move and start walking. Yet for a moment he wanted to stay like that a little bit more. Feeling drained. His body still aching.

Just catching his breath. Just for a moment. A little peace is all he ever asked for.