Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

«A morsel sweeter, a stomach’s fill,» Billy incanted in ancient Babylonian, gesturing to the pile of shredded newspaper.

Nothing.

As per usual. 

Well, he wasn’t solving that problem, today. 

«Lustrous and rose,» he incanted instead in Ancient Sumerian.

His knees went weak and he fell on his butt. 

Probably shouldn’t have done the whole pile, but now he had a bunch more copper shavings. He took a breath and got up, shoving the shavings into the duffel bag that was already mostly full of them. One way or another, he’d be eating today.

Walking out the door, Billy looked up at the sky where the countdown continued.  It could be seen from any point in the world, clear at night or day, and it had been counting down for the last couple of days. Even more disturbingly, it was visible in the corner of every screen capable of playing video media, including ones that were powered off or unplugged. The Justice League, Captain Marvel included, had been investigating from the very beginning, and had been stymied at every turn. The numerals were just there, floating in the sky. He had flown up to investigate; the numerals were immaterial, seeming to generate spontaneously. 

Cyborg had been investigating the video aspect, and had been unable to find how exactly it was being done. Oracle and Red Robin had been conducting their own investigation, with little to show for it. 

No one knew what the countdown was for. The verdict was that it was godly in nature, but, bizarrely, non-terrestrial. It was not quite impossible, but interference from another culture’s, another world’s, deity, so far from home, was incredibly rare. And for it to be so strong exerting its influence on Earth, to the point where all of Justice League Dark could not dispel it…

Captain Marvel had poured everything he had and more into it, and failed. Whatever was coming was beyond powerful.

Fifty-eight minutes until they found out what was going on. That was how long Billy had to sell his copper and get some dinner. No time to visit the library to update his blog. He had the impulse to transform, get himself to the scrap yard in a couple of seconds, and then have plenty of time, but he squashed it. It was a cheap excuse, one he’d always be able to convince himself of if he gave into it now; there would always be something going on, some justification to why this time it would be okay to use the powers of Shazam to make his personal life easier. 

Not today, and hopefully not ever. Billy had never been the perfect candidate to become the Champion, the wizard had been clear about that, and he was all he had to keep himself honest.

Twelve minutes, when he got off the bus, and he’d have to hoof it to the corner mart after he got his cash.

“You got another haul for me, kid?” asked Mercy, when he walked in. “You should be at home, with whatever’s going on.”

“Sure do,” said Billy. “Captain Marvel’ll keep us safe, besides.”

He hefted his bag on the counter, and Mercy lifted her brows at the sound it made. 

“I think it’s a good twenty pounds, today,” he said.

She frowned at him. 

“Billy,” she said. 

“Hm?”

“No one will be mad at you, if they’re making you do something you shouldn’t for all the scrap you’re bringing me.”

Billy’s face fell as his stomach gave a swoop.

“I just sweep up their shop, is all,” he said. 

She gave him a look that said she was worried he wasn’t telling the truth, but all she said was, “The rate they bust through copper, I feel like they could stand to slip you a twenty for your work.”

“Well, this is worth a good bit more than twenty dollars,” said Billy.

“Yeah, it is,” she said.

“They’re just a hobbyist,” said Billy. “They don’t want to deal with it. It works out.”

“Do they do commissions?” Mercy asked, not terribly subtly. “I might be interested in some of their work.”

Billy was going to need to find a new hustle. 

“You’re right,” he said. “I should really be getting home. Maybe we could talk about this another time.”

She sighed, and weighed his copper. Nineteen and a half pounds. It was three dollars a pound, and Mercy rounded it up to sixty bucks for him. Billy just had to hope that however long this thing lasted, the sixty bucks would be enough for him to get through it. He couldn’t exactly be worried about putting food in his belly while the world was in crisis.

“Stay safe out there, Billy,” said Mercy as he she handed him the three twenties. 

“Always,” Billy lied again.

He ran for it, beelining to corner market, wishing he’d given himself more time, because he really needed new shoes. He came to a stop, though, a little out of breath, a few feet away. 

10…

9…

8…

Giving up on dinner, Billy turned towards an alley where he could transform.

Entering the dark alley, Billy opened his mouth to call for the Living Lightning as the counter reached zero. 

Billy’s world was transformed into white before he could get a syllable out.

“Bertel?” Tim asked.

“The Philmont plant, all of our chip manufactories, and the Burgen and Fulsome foundries are completely shut down, for possible long-term closure,” said Bertel, his cell phone video feed a little spotty on Tim’s screen, the accursed countdown showing they had twenty minutes left. “All personnel were sent home as of two hours ago.”

“Excellent. Hodges?” Tim asked, turning to Hodge’s screen.

“All nuclear programs have been spun down for possible long-term closure,” said Hodges. “We have enough security staff to meet regulations who have volunteered to stay on post, bunkered down. Doctor Yeun has insisted on staying at her post with Doctor McMillan, however. All other staff finished evacuating one hour ago.”

Tim made a face. Per regulation, they only needed one of them to stay, so he would prefer Doctor Yeun to evacuate, but her commitment was laudable, and could come in handy if things went really pear shaped.

“Alright. And, Ms. Adedeji?” 

She responded  “The decentralized emergency command post is online. All communication systems are operational. Emergency personnel are on call, as needed.” 

“Well, that should cover it, then,” said Tim. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here to help ensure the safety of our employees and our global communities. Is everyone somewhere safe?”

“Are you?” asked Ms. Adedeji.

“I’m where I need to be,” said Tim. “And I’m more secure than most.”

It burned a little, to be dealing with the situation as Tim Drake, for the moment, and not as Red Robin. He was being kept in reserve, so he could help oversee the safety of the global employees and communities of Wayne Enterprises. And, if he focused on that, he could pretend his relegation had nothing to do with the civilians Tim hadn’t been able to save last week and Bruce wanting him on light duty to destress. 

He loosened his tie as over three dozen windows went dark, save for their glowing countdown clocks. “Just you and me, Ms. Adedeji.”

She gave him a wry look. “You really should be home, Mr. Drake.”

“We’ll see how things shake out,” he said. Where he should really be was in the Batcave, or Titan’s Tower.

“I really hope this is nothing,” she said.

Tim really doubted it was nothing. “So, how are the niblings doing?”

“They are still terrors,” Ms. Adedeji told him.

So they chatted, talking about anything other than the countdown, until the minutes became seconds, and the countdown was all that was left.

“Still glad you took this job?” asked Tim.

“I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else,” she said.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

The world went white.

Being an entirely non-magical hero during an entirely magical calamity was not a situation Clark ever relished. No matter that they had a highly capable JL Dark, uselessness was a feeling Clark did not deal well with. Something was coming, something powerful, and for the time being, there was nothing for Superman to do. So, as the countdown raced to zero, Clark was on the streets, as a reporter, getting the very human perspective of what was going on. 

Perry probably should have sent everyone home, but good investigative journalists weren’t exactly known for their sensible decision making.

It was down to a minute. Soon, something would happen. Hopefully, it would be something Clark could deal with.

There were more people on the streets than Clark might have expected. It was mostly single adults, out to see what would happen. Families were more likely to be hunkered down. Clark had stopped at a few block parties, before seeking out the stragglers. The people speed walking home from work. The ones still at work. The young man with a six pack alone on the grass at the park.

Now, it was Clark, alone, approaching the Zeta Tube, disguised as a phone booth, where his costume was stored, preparing to race off as Superman at a moment’s notice. 

5…

4…

3…

Clark loosened his tie, and was undoing his top button when the world went suddenly white.

“When we get our hands on the ghost doing this,” said Dad, over the early dinner Jazz had insisted they have together, waving his hand at the smoke rising from his soldering, the syringe of flux in said hand spraying a few drops across Danny’s spaghetti. 

Danny put his fork down.

Sometimes he wished he’d just gone ahead and told Jazz the truth about what had happened. She wouldn’t have made him come to dinner, if he had, probably.

He didn’t know what she’d have done if he’d told her.

He’d tried to get out of this, an hour ago, saying that Phantom needed to go out to deal with the problem, and she’d rolled her eyes, correctly pointing out this had nothing to do with ghosts, and to let the Justice League handle it. Eating a meal together before a possible calamity was important for a family, apparently.

“We’ll rip the dirty ghost apart, molecule by molecule!” Mom said. “The spaghetti’s lovely, dear,” she said to Jazz.

The gleam of metal in her hand kept catching Danny’s attention; he had to keep checking that it was just a fork.

Jazz looked at Danny apologetically. 

“Come on, you guys,” she said, “we don’t know what’s about to happen, but we’re here together. Danny, how was your day home from school?” 

“Danny, why didn’t you go to school?” asked Mom, clearly already disappointed with him.

“There wasn’t any,” said Danny, cringing under her piercing gaze. “The world’s ending.”

Less than a minute left, and something would happen, and Danny would have an excuse to leave the table. Leave the house, hopefully.

“Oh, the world’s not ending,” Mom said dismissively.

“We won’t let it!” said Dad. “Not once I finish the Fenton Imploder to bring this ghost down to size! Then we’ll show it what Fenton’s do to slimy ghosts making trouble.”

“And it will be a good warning to any ghosts that think they can come and hurt the living,” said Mom.

“I thought they couldn’t think,” Danny muttered.

“What was that, dear?”

“Nothing. May I be excused?”

“Excused? You’ve hardly touched your dinner!” said Dad, his hand slapping Danny on the back and resting on his shoulder, holding him down in his chair. “Come on, now. How are you going to fight ghosts on an empty stomach.”

Danny was going to throw up if he had to stay here much longer. But he probably wouldn’t because:

10…

9…

8…

“Okay, well, the important thing is we’re all together,” said Jazz.

“I’m here with you, Jazz,” said Danny.

3…

2…

1…

Everything went white.

“Rejoice! For the God Antantlous is here! To! En-ter-tain! Youuuuuu!”

There was a great fanfare of trumpets. 

Billy’s mouth shut as he took in the scene before him. A vast flat expanse. Marble? Two familiar faces, and one completely unfamiliar. Enormous spectator stands, filled to the brim with aliens, separated from them by distance and faintly shimmering fields. A huge being sitting on a throne; Billy thought it had a similar form to most, but not all, of the aliens in the stands, but at the distance from the stands, he couldn’t quite tell. It was humanoid with scales ranging from scarlet red to vibrant yellow. He wasn’t the one talking. Billy couldn’t see who was talking.

There were screens in the sky, hanging independent of anything as the countdowns had been, showing the four of them from an elevated circling viewpoint, before the scene changed to show video from around the world, of people watching them. 

He just had to be Billy when the countdown hit zero, didn’t he. Across from him, Clark was in the same sticky situation, dressed as Clark Kent, instead of as Superman. To his right, Tim Drake-Wayne was stood, instead of Red Robin. To his left…well, the boy looked like a civilian, already with a done-with-this expression on his face, jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt under a white NASA t-shirt, but Billy doubted he’d turn out to be the odd actual civilian in the group.

Billy…did not know what he’d do if he had to lose his secret identity, today.

“Aw, beans,” he said.

Bruce stared at the screen in horror. 

How? 

Why?

Tim was supposed to be safe, tonight. As safe as anyone could be, on a day like this. Yet, there he was, without his armor, without his weapons, without any actual bat tech; not so much as a domino. Facing an enemy that had thus far stymied the entire Justice League.

“Oracle,” he ground out.

“It’s really him,” she said over the com. “Tim disappeared from his office and his tracker went offline, at the same time he appeared on the broadcast.”

Bruce looked out at the assembled heroes with him on the Watchtower. “Do we have a location?” he demanded.

This was the nightmare scenario. Whatever the heck was going on, Danny was very publicly Danny Fenton, at the moment. Very publicly. 

It had always been rare that Danny was stuck acting as himself instead of as Phantom. On those rare occasions, Danny had always been able to get away eventually for a moment to transform. Here? Given how entirely pervasive the countdown had been, Danny didn’t think he’d be able to get away with it. 

If he could have just been on patrol, instead of suffering through dinner…

“Uh,” Danny started, but startled when he heard his voice amplified from the distant stands. 

Great. He took a breath, painfully aware as whatever invisible camera focused on him. 

“Anyone know what’s going on?” he asked. 

“Not anymore than you do, I’d expect,” said their apparent adult chaperone, his own voice projected as the screens focused on him. “I think we all appeared here at the same time, when the counter hit zero.”

“But why?” asked the little scruffy boy, cringing when the focus was then on him. 

“I suspect,” said the boy close to Danny’s age, “we’ll be finding out pretty soon.” He had a sour look on his face as he said so. 

“And is that not the question?” the announcer’s voice boomed. “Welcome, one and all, to our latest observation of our centennial judgement, here for the entertainment of Tantalans and Earthlings alike, this century titled: The Rise or Fall of Atlas! A reference to the local culture’s belief in a Titan that holds up their planet.”

As flustered as he already was, Danny really didn’t like the sound of that. There was also condescending laughter from the stands. Danny really didn’t like that either. 

“I am your cleric host, giving all glory to Antantlous, our God of Entertainment and Judgement!” There were more cheers. “Here before you, Tantala, Earth, and all the spread out worlds that love Antantlous, I present you with the four most powerfully dangerous Earthlings alive today.”

Tim just barely held back a flinch, his mind immediately going to his evil future self, AKA Batman with guns. Across from him, the older of their mystery boys winced, a pained expression on his face. If Tim had to guess, the other boy knew exactly what made him dangerous. 

The announcer paid no attention to their tells, moving right along.

“I’m really not sure what it says about them they’ve sent three children to fight this battle.”

“We weren’t sent,” Tim said icily. Besides him, Clark gave him a warning look, probably telling him not to needlessly antagonize the wildly powerful entities that had summoned them.

“Do not think Earth can weasel out of responsibility for you,” said the announcer, making the boy to Tim’s side growl and the boy across from him flare his nostrils. “Here you stand, the four individuals with the greatest potential to reach the heights of sainthood or infamy; do most Earthlings just peak early?”

Jeez, the crowd really seemed to love this guy.

“Why are we here?” asked Clark.

A Tantalan appeared suddenly among them. “It is as I said,” they said, their voice clearly that of the announcer. "You are here to be judged. And, you are here to ENTERTAIN!”

The roar from the crowd was deafening, all the more so because Antantlous was clapping. 

“And what gives you the right to judge us?” asked the older of the other boys.

The Tantalan was suddenly behind him, speaking in his ear, making the kid skitter away.

“I am your cleric host, all glory to Antantlous, highest of all judges.”

The nameless cleric disappeared again, but they kept speaking.

“With countless lives on the line, Atlas and his competitors will be undergoing numerous trials over the coming months.”

That sounded really really bad. That sounded like there might not be any way to get through this without sacrificing his and Clark’s secret identities, to say nothing of whatever the other two boys had going on. Tim couldn’t be the reason his family had to initiate their Ghost Protocol. 

He just couldn’t.

“And in-between trials, well, no rest for the vicious. We have lots of entertainment scheduled for you all, in the style of Earthly television shows, with our guests as the stars.”

Yeah, well, that also sounded really miserable.

“We still have no source for the broadcast,” said Cyborg. “No anomalies. Nothing in the far reaches of the solar system. I have no idea where they are. For all we know, they’re on Tantala. Wherever that is.”

Having anticipated that any screen that could display proper video may be taken over, the Justice League had moved quickly to secure some antique methods of displaying or printing data so they could still interact with their computers. Even the most basic of e-ink screens they had tried still displayed video of the arena. Their only reprieve was in small screens, so long as there was a larger screen present displaying the broadcast. Even some of the larger phone screens were unusable. Still, Cyborg was the only one, now, who could efficiently process significant amounts of information at once.

“I cannot sense them in the Sol system,” said J’onn from Metropolis, where he was already masquerading as Superman.

“It’s another week until we can expect to have a Green Lantern in this system,” said Wally, stopped somewhere in Cairo. “But apparently, we’ll have months to figure this out.”

“We are not waiting a week to get them back,” Batman growled. “Have we located Captain Marvel?”

“His communicator is still offline, as of the countdown reaching zero,” said Oracle, sounding entirely vexed with what her systems had been reduced to.

Had he been removed from the playing board for some reason? Why, when the man had been as stymied as everyone else by what was going on.

“Have we identified the two unknowns?” 

“Nothing popped on our own databases,” said Cyborg. “I’ve been broadening the search more and more, but nothing so far.”

“We might not need to find them,” said Diana. “Hopefully their loved ones will be reaching out to us to help.”

“Sure, them and thousands of other people trying to reach us upset about what’s going on,” said Cyborg. “But I’ve just got a hit on the little one, from the NCMEC database.”

Bruce considered, the boy being listed with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children may be a helpful lead, but it was not promising.

They were interrupted from discussing further, as the scene on the screen changed.

“The festivities will begin shortly. But first, I think our contestants should get to know each other, don’t you think?”

Geez, this crowd would cheer for anything, Clark thought, as trumpets played to a crescendo and the world went white once more.

They were alone, ostensibly. Up in one corner of the room they found themselves in was a small projection showing more shots of people around the world watching them.

“Maybe we should all have a seat,” said Clark.

There were comfy stuffed chairs behind each of them, still arranged facing each other as they had been in the arena.

“Oh, sweet,” said the little one, who looked very much homeless, darting a hand out to the table between them, piled with snacks, bottles of water, sodas, and beers. The kid grabbed a moon pie before he sat down, already opening the packaging.

“We don’t know if that’s safe,” said Clark, holding out a cautioning hand.

“Nothing’s safe,” said the kid, biting into his treat. “Apparently we’ll be here for months. You looking to not eat anything for that long?” 

Clark sighed and looked to Tim.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne,” said Clark. Their secret identities hadn’t been revealed so far, and he wasn’t going to give them away if he could help it. “I wish we were meeting again under better circumstances.”

Tim shook his hand. “Yeah, I, uh, did not have this on my bingo card. We should probably stock up, while we’re here, by the way,” he noted, grabbing a water bottle and putting it in the inner pocket of his suit jacket as they both sat down.

“You two know each other?” asked the older of the two mystery boys, starting to grab his own snacks. “And, wait, Drake-Wayne? Like, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Drake-Wayne?”

“CEO? What?” asked the kid, eyeing Tim skeptically with a mouth full of moon pie.

“I am Tim Drake-Wayne,” said Tim. “And, yes, I’m the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

“But you’re like, ten,” said the kid who was about that age.

“I’m sixteen,” said Tim. “Meanwhile, this is Clark Kent. He’s a reporter with the Daily Planet. He’s met professionally with myself, and other members of my family on a few occasions.”

“Wait, Clark Kent like Louis Lane’s husband?” asked the little one.

Clark about beamed at him. “Exactly like Louis Lane’s husband.” 

“Any of her pulitzer prize winning rub off on you?” the kid asked.

“I’d like to think so,” said Clark, his estimations of the kid rising. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Billy,” said Billy. “Okay, okay, but wait. You’ve got black hair and blue eyes, and you’re from Metropolis,” he said, pointing.

“Yes,” said Clark, not particularly liking where this was going.

“I’ve got black hair and blue eyes, and I’m from Fawcett City,” said Billy.

They nodded at him.

“And you’ve got black hair and blue eyes, and you’re from Gotham,” he said, pointing at Tim.

“Right,” Tim said slowly.

Clark saw Tim and the yet unnamed kid furrow their eyes at Billy.

“These aliens are so dumb,” said Billy. “They think you’re Superman, you’re Batman, and I’m Captain Marvel.”

This kid.

“That’s absurd,” said Clark, “but it also makes a weird amount of sense?”

“Actually,” said Tim, “no one knows what Batman’s eye color is. He keeps his eyes behind some sort of opaque covering.”

Billy waved this away. “At this point, they probably think it’s a prerequisite.” He turned to the odd boy out. “So, what about you?”

“Uh, I’m Danny. Fenton. I’m from Amity Park.”

“Never heard of it,” said Billy. 

“Most people haven’t,” said Danny. “We are the most haunted town in America, though.”

It certainly wasn’t ringing any bells with Clark, though he smiled at the silly claim to fame.

“I don’t suppose you have a black haired, blue eyed super hero in Amity?” Tim asked dryly. 

“Nah, our guy’s got white hair and green eyes,” said Danny. “You want black hair and blue eyes, my dad’s one of the town’s mad scientists. Some might even call him powerfully dangerous.”

Well, that was a very interesting claim. Under different circumstances, Clark might think he was just a teenager being outrageous on purpose, but given that Clark was Superman, and Tim was Red Robin…

“But, powerfully dangerous?” asked Tim.

“To ghosts like Phantom, yeah,” the kid said uncomfortably. “To say nothing of the property damage from my parents’ hunts.”

There was more trading of glances.

“Is Phantom your town superhero?” asked Clark.

“Mm-hm,” said Danny. “Plus Red Huntress, but Phantom’s been around the longest.”

“And they’re ghosts?” asked Tim.

“Just Phantom is,” said Danny. “Red Huntress uses tech. And Phantom does end up handling most of the ghosts that make trouble in Amity.”

“There’s ghosts making actual trouble in Amity?” asked Clark. 

Deadman was a particularly powerful ghost, but he couldn’t physically interact with the world, and his ability to possess others was supposed to be pretty unique to him.

“Now and then,” said Danny.

“I’ve never heard anything about this,” said Clark.

“Yeah, the rest of the world tends to ignore Amity, for the most part. Except for the Guys in White.”

“The Guys in White?” asked Billy.

“Technically, they’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, but they wear white suits, so… Anyway, they’re the government organization that’s been hunting down, experimenting on, and exterminating ghosts. Or, at least trying to.”

Clark shared an uneasy glance with Tim. Given the circumstances, they couldn’t just discount everything Danny was saying, but…

“That’s super against the Meta Protection Acts,” said Billy.

“Sure, but the Anti-Ecto acts give them a carve out. It’s super messed up. They say ghosts are ‘non-sentient’ and can’t think or have emotions or feel pain, when it’s super obvious that that’s not true even at a cursory glance! If you spend even just five minutes with a ghost, you’ll realize that they’re just another kind of person. An alien kind of person, sure, but that’s no reason to treat them like they’re a virus to be eradicated.”

“Well,” said Clark, “the Justice League should probably look into all of that.”

“Hey, yeah. I suppose they’re probably all watching this, too.”

Somehow, Clark doubted the kid hadn’t figured that out before he’d gone on his little rant.

“Wait, are you getting service here?” Billy asked, having noticed Tim staring at his phone.

“Uh, sort of,” said Tim, looking positively spiteful at the device in his hand. “Any time I try to do something requiring a connection, all it does is switch to showing a feed of social media posts about what’s going on, from maybe every social media network in the world? It’s um…I only speak a handful of these languages.”

“Oh, only a handful?” asked Danny. 

Clark pulled out his own phone, showing full bars, and saw a similar feed when he tried to send a message to Perry. He wanted to pull out his Justice League communicator, but he was planning to keep it hidden until he wasn’t under surveillance. He had it set to play alerts inaudible to the human ear, and the fact that it hadn’t chimed once since he’d gotten here probably meant he wouldn’t be able to connect to anyone, anyways. 

“Aw, man, I left my phone on the dining table,” said Danny.

“Might be for the best,” said Tim. “How about you, Billy, is that your phone?”

Tim nodded to the faint lump in Billy’s pocket. The kid’s hand covered it.

“It’s an old Nokia,” he said. “I don’t think it’ll be good for anything.”

At Billy’s evasiveness, Clark let his curiosity, and the fact they were in a high stakes situation, win over, and he used his x-ray vision to take a peak.

What the hell was the kid doing with a Justice League communicator? If he couldn’t feel his own in his pocket, and if Billy hadn’t been at least three feet away from him this entire time, he’d have thought the kid had lifted it. He cast a glance at Tim, and noted he still had his, tucked away.

Could Billy be a sidekick, who’d happened to be holding his mentor’s communicator when he was abducted?

He shouldn’t be. Clark was supposed to be aware of every Justice League member’s sidekicks. Especially the young ones. Billy didn’t match any of their descriptions. Black hair and blue eyes aside, he wasn’t a Bat. And, who in the Justice League would have a sidekick running around looking homeless? It didn’t make any sense. 

Clark took another glance at the device, wondering if some toy maker had made a toy communicator patterned from the real thing. But, no. That was definitely a Justice League communicator. No wonder Billy didn’t want to show it off, but why did he have it?!

“So,” he said. “In case the aliens haven’t mistaken us for our hometown superheroes, or menaces, any ideas on what might have made them choose you?”

There was an awkward silence. At this point, Clark wasn’t expecting any honest answers, just like he wasn’t planning to say he was Superman. Still, it would seem weird if they didn’t discuss it.

“I’ll admit it,” Billy finally said, “I am Captain Marvel.” Clark blinked at him, but the kid scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No, dude, I’m like, eleven.”

“Alright,” said Clark, for the moment really hoping that that was a joke.

He really hoped they hadn’t let a ten-year-old onto the Justice League.

He considered, though, that the ‘show’ might already be rigged in Billy’s favor, if Billy had the stamina of Atlas already. 

“Got any clues for yourself?” asked Danny.

“The pen is mightier than the sword?” Clark volunteered.

“Hmm,” said Billy.

“I guess I’ve picked up a little mad science from my parents, helping in their lab,” said Danny. “But if that was a qualifier, it would be them, here, not me.”

“Got any mad science tech on you that might be helpful?” asked Tim.

“Nah,” said Danny, his unusually low heart rate rising, his pores opening. Clark gave him an x-ray once over. In spite of the tells, though, he really didn’t seem to have anything. 

Wait…

Clark refocused….Was that…a high tech thermos next to the kid’s spleen?! There was also a thumb drive in his left thigh, and loose change in his hip.

What?!

“Pretty sure the only powerfully dangerous person in the room here is the billionaire CEO, who wore a suit to the apocalypse,” Billy was saying.

“I mean, I was at work, making sure our plants and offices were shut down safely, and our employees could get home safely,” said Tim. “I recognize that I am relatively powerful, in my position, but I’d note that Wayne Enterprises has made significant progress in meeting its goals for ethical business practices, philanthropy, eco-friendly manufacturing, and workforce quality of life.”

“Is Wayne Enterprises sponsoring this game show?” asked Billy. “What’s happening right now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tim. “I’m just saying, if you’re looking for a powerfully dangerous businessperson, well, I won’t name any names, but I doubt that I’d be your best shot.”

“You can name names,” said Billy, who Clark could already tell was a bit of a shit-stirrer.

“Please don’t forget we’re all constantly on camera,” said Tim.

“I didn’t forget, I was just hoping you had,” said Billy.

“We’re going to have to rely upon each other,” said Clark. 

Three heads turned to face him.

“I’m the adult in the room. I’m going to do everything I can to look out for you boys, but for the time being, we’re all we have.”

“And we’ll all make sure to look out for you, Billy,” said Tim.

“Screw you, I can look out for myself,” said Billy.

“Man,” said Danny, “I hope we’re all actually really suited for whatever stupid challenges they have in store for us, because they definitely made it sound like the stakes are stupid high.”

“I won’t pretend to understand what criteria they’ve used to choose us,” said Clark. “If there was any criteria at all, other than, apparently, black hair and blue eyes. Whether they’ve inexplicably mistaken us for our hometown heroes, or menaces, or what. We’ll take things as they come, and we’ll figure it out. And, in the meantime, we’ll take care of each other.”

“A beautiful sentiment!” the announcer suddenly called out, before white once more took over his vision. “But can they live by it?”

“We’re suddenly getting inundated with reports of further disappearances,” said Cyborg.

“Where?” asked Batman.

“Everywhere.”

“Thank you for sending them over here, our cleric host. I, your cleric game master, will take it from here, for the moment. All glory to Antantlous! Contestants! Are you ready to play! A! Game!”

The music now was…classic rock?

The four of them shared a look with each other before looking back at the ‘game master.’ 

They had a similar coloring to the host, but with different patterns of scaling. Their regalia, as well, seemed in the same theme but more simple.

“If we have to,” said Clark.

Danny wondered what would have happened if he had said ‘no.’ 

“You don’t!” said the game master with good cheer, as though to answer. “Just know that your inaction may well doom thousands of lives by the time two hours are up.”

Well.

Who could say no to that?

They were standing on what seemed to be the same open field, the stands off in the distance. Except there was a massive structure now, opposite to them from where Antantlous sat. It seemed simple in its basic form, all right angles and straight edges. There were also ornate decorations in the form of paintings, reliefs, and what looked like gold filigree and inset gems. On the wall facing them, there was a large open rectangular entryway, with no apparent door.

“Hey, where’s my water?” Tim asked suddenly. 

Danny checked his own pockets, and found the cola and water he’d tucked away were gone. His chips were still there, so…

That was a trial. Chips, with nothing to wash them down with.

“Two hours to save the hostages,” said the game master, as though Tim hadn’t said anything. “Perhaps some of them may be your neighbors. Perhaps you’ll find one of them to be your future soul mate! Or, it may well be they are every one of them a perfect stranger to you, with no impact on your life whatsoever. Go on, and try to save them. However, you’ll have to enter this maze, first, and reach its end, before you’ll have the chance. Your time starts…NOW!”

“Billy Batson,” Cyborg said as the four abductees, ’contestants,’ approached the maze, and the announcer gave a running commentary. Cyborg pulled out a transparent overlay he had just printed and placed it on the antique overhead projector; the kid’s missing poster. “A runaway foster child from Fawcett, Pennsylvania, eleven years old. Missing for the last year and a half. Or…estimated as eleven years old.”

“Estimated?” asked Batman.

“Records show he was found alone at a fair when he was about four years old. He’s never been fully identified. Even the name Batson is from the hospital he was cleared at before being taken into foster care. Batson Memorial Hospital. And, while his original legal name is likely William, he only knew his name as Billy, so that’s what’s on his provisional birth certificate.”

“Any indications of what could make him ‘powerfully dangerous’ asked Green Arrow. 

“None,” said Cyborg.

“There might not be anything,” said Hawkman. “I mean, I get Superman. But Red Robin? He has no abilities to single him out. No offense,” he said as an aside to Bruce.

Offense very much taken.

“I would think we have all learned not to underestimate Red Robin,” said Wonder Woman. “It would indicate, though, that we are not necessarily looking for meta, magical, or alien abilities.”

“Red Robin has training, though,” said Bruce. “Resources. Connections. Experience.”

“Perhaps we’re looking at a selection that has been diversified,” said Flash, his location pinging from Cairo. “Superman has incredible physical prowess. Red Robin has incredible skills in deduction, strategy, engineering, leadership. I think, if we want to figure this out, we’ll need to think about other ways in which a person can be powerful.”

“Or, we could be looking at potential, here,” said Green Arrow. “The kid may be powerless now, but have the potential to become something incredible.”

How on earth would something like that be quantified? To say nothing of the fact that a child could have all the potential in the world, but have that potential lie fallow due to lack of nurturing. 

Still. “The announcer indicated they are currently powerfully dangerous,” said Bruce. "Assuming we can take their word for it, and discount the possibility of mistranslation, the ‘potential’ argument may not hold up.”

They mulled that over a moment, watching as Clark began leading the children through the maze, doubtless making liberal use of his x-ray vision.

“Constantine, we really have nothing on this Antant-” Flash started to say over the comm before Constantine interrupted him.

“Stop saying their name! Are you trying to give them even more power? I don’t care how we do it, but we need to spread the word that people cannot be saying his name over and over again as they marvel at his great deeds. If we could get everyone to just collectively stop watching the broadcast, that would be great too, but god knows we’re never going to achieve that.”

“We really have nothing on this alien god?” asked Flash.

“It’s sweet you’d think I’d randomly have encyclopedic knowledge of gods from other bloody worlds, who shouldn’t ever need to be the slightest consideration on my radar. I’ve got nothing for you.”

“Alright, well, are there any gods that we can call upon to help us deal with this?” asked Green Arrow. “I mean, hypothetically this guy’s playing in a bunch of other gods’ sand boxes.”

“It’s not promising,” said Zatanna.

“The Norse pantheon’s had its collective foot in the grave these last few centuries. The Greco/Roman pantheon’s been practically dormant for longer, content to exert their influence through the Champion and the Amazons, never mind that they seem to have just poofed that Champion out of existence as soon as they got here. Most of the pantheons around the world are similarly dormant.”

“Judeo/Christian?” asked Bruce.

“Oh, the god that doesn’t want anyone to say their name, or worship idols of them? Nah, at best we could get some devout together and call on some angels or saints, but this is a little above their weight class.”

“J-Jesus?” Green Arrow asked a little tentative.

“Oh, you want to bring about the apocalypse now? Let’s see, we could look at some of the Incan, Mayan, Aztec pantheons, but I don’t think you want to make the sacrifices needed to call on them. Going to North America, I’m not as familiar with their gods and spirits, but I wouldn’t be hopeful.”

“Hindu?” asked Hawkman.

“You want to tell ‘em, love?” 

Zatanna sighed and placed a transparent email printout on the overhead. “This is a message I received from a contact I have in India,” she explained. “They tried. They mobilized three Avatars to try to put a stop to this. They’re not really sure what happened. The Avatar’s are MIA.”

“What about the Egyptian gods?”

“If we had a pantheon for you, we’d have bloody well said so,” said Constantine.

“Okay,” said Green Arrow, “maybe… someone like Babba-”

“Don’t say her name!” Zatanna and Constantine both cried out.

“Never say her name,” said Constantine.

“I don’t know if she could, but I don’t want to see what happens if she swallows another god,” said Zatanna.

“Let’s let sleeping witches lie, shall we?” said Constantine.

The table fell silent for a moment.

“There’s a social worker from Fawcett that’s been trying to call us,” said Oracle.

“Let’s take the call,” said Bruce.

“So, there’s the left-hand trick,” said Danny as they approached the maze. The closer they got to the entrance, the more the side of the structure took up the entirety of his vision.

A valid strategy. Basically, if you just kept following the wall on your left-hand side (or right-hand side, you just had to pick one), then you will eventually get to the exit of the maze, no matter how many twists or turns you had to take first.

“Sure,” said Clark, “assuming a more traditional maze and no magical trickery, that should get us out, eventually. I’m worried about the two hour time limit, though. This looks like it’s a really big maze.”

“You got another way through?” asked Billy.

“Well, I’ve found I’ve got something of an intuition for mazes. I think I could get us through faster.”

“Yeah, but we can’t see it from the top,” said Danny, as they stopped to look over the entrance.

“Not the mazes you solve with a pencil,” said Clark. “I grew up doing corn mazes. I’ve solved some pretty big ones, in my time. If you boys would trust me to lead you through?”

Corn mazes, Tim’s foot. Clark was going to use his x-ray vision.

“Maybe we should split up?” said Danny. “One team does it my way, one team does it Clark’s? Gives us the best chance of getting a team out to…somehow save thousands of lives.”

“I think you’re all forgetting something,” said Tim.

“What’s that?” asked Clark.

“It’s really boring, watching someone run a maze. Unless it’s not just a maze.”

Clark nodded. “We should stick together.” 

“Let’s follow Clark’s lead,” said Tim. “It’s risky, but I think he’s right that the maze is likely too big to traverse in two hours, otherwise.”

“I hope you’re really good at mazes,” Danny said to Clark. 

“Me, too,” said Clark.

“Come on,” said Billy. “The faster we start, the faster we’re done.”

“Hold up,” said Tim. He slipped off his jacket, and then his vest. The later of which he handed to Billy.

“Here, put this on under your sweater.”

“Uh, why?” asked Billy.

“It’s knife proof. We don’t know what we’ll find in there.” He handed his jacket to Danny.

“What, is this bulletproof?” Danny asked.

“Bullet resistant,” said Tim. “And knife proof. I’d give it to Billy, but it would bunch up enough on him to hamper his movements.”

“And why don’t you need to be bullet resistant or knife proof?” asked Billy.

“Who said I’m not?” asked Tim. 

Danny reached out and tapped a knuckle against Tim’s chest.

“Is that body armor under, what I’m assuming is a knife proof dress shirt?”

“Get shot by a sniper once, shame on them,” said Tim. “Get shot by a sniper twice, shame on me.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s still shame on them,” said Billy.

“You’re sure this thing is bullet proof?” asked Danny, shaking out the jacket a little before putting it on. “It doesn’t feel bullet proof.”

“Bullet resistant,” said Tim. “It’s the latest in Wayne Tech. It’s already being used by a number of high profile individuals, and we hope to have more economical and casual options for people living in high conflict areas soon.”

“High conflict areas like Gotham?” asked Danny.

“Absolutely,” said Tim.

“And here we have another Wayne Enterprises commercial,” said Billy.

 Tim grinned sheepishly as he pulled off his tie to tuck into his pocket. It wasn’t exactly fashionable, but he popped his collar, the better to protect his neck.

Together they walked through the front entrance of the maze, to a great fanfare of music and a light show, Clark leading the way. The man made a show of considering every fork and intersection. It was only a few turns in, though, before there was a pit of fire between them and the rest of the maze. 

Dun! Dun! Went the soundtrack, as the lighting changed with the mood.

“Let’s turn back,” said Danny.

Only for a pit of fire to be between them and the way back.

“Or not…”

Tim held his hand out over it. It wasn’t too bad. The fire was deep down the pit, and there was a breeze coming from somewhere keeping too much heat from accumulating. 

They all considered each other. Clark, of course, could vault the thing without issue. Tim could manage it, maybe just barely. It was Danny and Billy, Tim doubted. Not that they couldn’t have their own abilities that would help them get across, but at a glance, they weren’t exactly athletes. 

“I could jump it,” said Tim.

“I could, too,” said Clark. 

“Uhhh,” said Billy.

“How about this,” said Tim. “Clark and I stand on either side of the hallway. Danny, you come running, and as you leap, Clark and I give you a boost.”

Worst came to worst, Clark would save them, whatever the consequences.

“And I’ll make sure Billy gets over okay, when you send him,” said Danny, nodding.

Billy grumbled a little, probably at the idea he’d need Danny’s help, but his gaze was on Clark, considering, before he nodded. 

“No sense in waiting,” said Danny, walking back down the hall to give himself some distance.

Tim and Clark took up positions, and Danny started running. Tim’s assessment the kid wasn’t very athletic seemed pretty accurate, his form was very much teenager-being-forced-to-run-the-mile, and Tim figured Clark might need to put a little more oomph into his shove. Danny, though, didn’t falter as he came to the precipice and leapt, Tim and Clark’s hands coming behind him to give him more lift and speed. 

And…the guy’s ark through the air was not quite natural. As though there was another force slowing his descent while he was in free fall. 

As though the guy had not quite trusted their push, and used just a touch of flight ability to make sure he got across.

Between them, the flames from the pit suddenly shot up dramatically, before dying back down.

Trading a glance with Clark, Tim was pretty sure the man had caught the same thing. The question was, how obvious was it to the viewers back on Earth.

“Alright, Billy,” said Tim. “You’re up. We’ve got this.”

“Jump like you’re going to barrel right into me,” said Danny. “Don’t worry about knocking me over.”

 Billy, already standing about where Danny had been, seemed to be sucking on his teeth as he took a few more steps back. For a second, Tim thought he was going to back out, but then he started running, his gaze on Danny, who was holding his arms out just a step back from the ledge.

This time, Tim was sure Clark used just a smidge of super strength, making up for Billy’s bad form and low momentum, sending Billy right into Danny’s chest, before another flare of flames. The boys almost did fall backwards, but Danny managed to plant a foot and keep upright.

“Alright!” Danny crowed, ruffling Billy’s hair. Billy was perhaps too high on adrenaline to rebuff the condescending gesture.

“Alright, Tim,” said Clark, “I think I’ll still give you a bit of a boost.” 

“Much appreciated,” said Tim. The last thing he needed was to make it look like he had a lot of experience leaping over large gaps.

Billy was pretty sure Clark would have saved him, before Billy would have needed to call on the power of Shazam. Just like he’d been pretty sure Clark would have pushed him far enough to make it without needing to be saved. It was just…kind of hard to have that kind of faith when he was just Billy.

Tim came over, putting on a show of nervousness, with Clark giving him a boost he probably didn’t need.

“Phew,” said Danny, clapping his hand on Tim’s shoulder after making sure Tim was steady on his feet. “This is actually working.”

Was Danny the only one who’d gone into this without knowing it was basically completely safe? He’d still gone first, taking Clark and Tim’s help on faith.

“You got this, old man?” Billy called back.

Clark made a show of considering the distance, and looking a little nervous.

“We’ve got you,” said Danny. “We’ll make sure you don’t fall in.”

“Just don’t let me barrel into you,” said Clark. “I’m a little heavier than Billy.”

Billy rolled his eyes as Danny, looking a little nervous, took up a position just to the side of where Clark would be aiming for.

From Billy’s perspective, it was all very anti-climactic, no matter the final burst of flame and the soundtrack that was doing a good job of keeping up with them, but both Danny and Tim hooted and hollered once Clark was safely across.

“Hello? Oh, please tell me I’m speaking to an actual person.”

“You’re speaking with Batman and Wonder Woman,” Bruce said by way of telling the others to butt out.

“O-oh! Um.”

“Are you Billy Batson’s social worker?”

“I am! I- I am. For what it’s worth. It’s been a year since I’ve seen hide or hair of him. Until today. I’m CSW Maggie Bartlett.”

“What can you tell us about him?” asked Wonder Woman.

“Oh. Well, he’s a good kid. He’s a runaway, which you probably already know, but he’s a good kid. He’s just had a rough time in foster care.”

“What happened to him in foster care?” asked Bruce.

“Ah, well…I don’t think you need to know that, and it’s confidential,” she said, positively timid. “But suffice to say- Did they just throw my kid?!”

Bruce, who had watched relatively unconcernedly as Superman had launched the kid precisely across the gap, said, “Suffice to say?”

“I…Just. He ran away for the reasons a lot of kids run away. He started, just turning up at friends’ houses, and getting sent back to foster care. Eventually, though, he managed to completely disappear. I’ve been worried to death for him. He’s way too young to be on his own. I mean, any kid is, but at ten?”

“Wouldn’t a child as young as Billy typically have been adopted, if they had been abandoned?” asked Bruce.

“Not right away, when we don’t know for sure that he was abandoned. There was an awful lot of searching, before he could be declared free for adoption. And, then, once he realized we were trying to give him a forever home…Well, six year olds don’t exactly have a say in the matter, but if they’re determined not to be adopted, they can make it awfully hard to find a family willing to adopt them. The thing was, the State may have given up on finding his parents, but Billy, I’m sure to this day, remained convinced that his mother was out there, looking for him, and he needed to look for her in turn.”

“Hn,” was Bruce’s response. Unless the mother was dead or completely incapacitated, it would be nearly impossible for them to have not found each other, so long as she was looking. If she were in a coma in a hospital, the state of Pennsylvania likely would have found her anyway. If she was a Jane Doe corpse, the state would have found her. If she had been abducted, Billy would have been linked to her disappearance.

“I know,” she said. “But it’s not exactly easy to convince a child that the most likely thing to have happened is his mother abandoned him.”

“Can you think of any reason Billy would be considered powerful?” asked Wonder Woman.

“No! He’s just a kid. None of this makes any sense. He’s just a little boy. A resilient one, but…Not that I’d be able to tell you if he were a meta without a court order.”

“Has anything odd ever happened around him. Or to him?” asked Bruce.

“Aside from being abandoned at a fair? No! Or…”

“What is it?”

“Just, one odd thing.”

“Go on,” said Bruce. 

“Well, he couldn’t take all of his things, when he ran. We had a number of his belongings in boxes, here at my office. Except, they went missing from the storage room, one evening. And, there’s nothing logged on the keypad. Nothing caught on cameras. His things just disappeared.”

“There were no leads?” asked Bruce.

“No, and it was fully investigated. Not that there was anything particularly valuable that had gone missing, but the security breach it represented…”

“Has Billy ever been hospitalized?” asked Wonder Woman, “been in any odd accidents? Exposed to any odd substances?” 

“Not that’s been documented,” said Ms. Bartlett.

“The boy, Danny, mentioned his own parents were ‘mad scientists,’” said Wonder Woman. “Did any of Billy’s foster parents have any kind of laboratory in their home?”

“I mean…Yeah, that wouldn’t pass a home inspection,” said Ms. Bartlett.

“Practice occult traditions?” asked Bruce.

“Not that I can think of?” said Ms. Bartlett. “I mean, we don’t necessarily have a database of our foster parents’ religious beliefs, but no, nothing’s sticking out to me. Billy certainly never disclosed anyone… sacrificing any chickens, or laying him on an alter, or anything like that. I mean, I understand that you’re trying to figure out if he has some sort of super power, but…Billy’s certainly had a difficult time in our foster care system, but very much nothing that shouts ‘super power origin story.’ There’s…there’s nothing dangerous about Billy.”

She sounded close to tears.

“We’re doing everything we can to bring him back,” said Bruce.

“Do you even know where they are?” she asked.

“We are still figuring things out,” said Wonder Woman. “If you think of anything, I want you to give us a call, alright? We’ll make sure your calls come through.”

There were just a few more pleasantries before the call was ended.

Green Arrow let out a breath. “Well, he sounds like a hard luck kid, but I don’t know that we got anything out of that. If he wasn’t up against Superman and Red Robin, I’d think he was just an average street kid.”

But he was up against Superman and Red Robin. And, for eleven years, the boy had stayed off their radar. The question was, would he give himself away, or would he keep his secrets and damn the consequences.

“Cyborg, Flash, I would like to ask that you be available to help initiate my family’s Ghost Protocol, should the need arise.”

Billy huffed as he watched the others debate. They’d come to a hallway that had suddenly been cut off by doors slamming shut on either side of them. The way through was very simple. There was a pingpong ball at the bottom of a hole, too narrow to get a hand down. They’d had Billy try, since his hands were the smallest, and sure enough, Billy wasn’t actually a baby! The door could only be opened if the pingpong ball was placed into the pingpong shaped hole there. 

Then they’d all pooled together what items they had in their pockets (the one’s they’d been willing to reveal). Apparently, Tim had a compact taser, citing the number of times he’d apparently been kidnapped. He also had a freaking pocket sized rebreather, various anti-toxin auto-injectors, a tourniquet, and a multi-tool, because Gotham. No one had chewing gum or a straw, which seemed to be a sticking point. They’d tried a few things with belts, and were now examining the door to see if they could trick it, somehow. Billy sighed, very long suffering. He had hoped someone else would come up with the obvious solution, and thus take responsibility for completing the task. Alas, no one else had figured it out.

This was why they’d had their beverages taken away from them, so they’d have to get a little undignified. Must be more entertaining. 

There were a couple of things Billy could do with magic, but he didn’t want to reveal he had magic, if he could help it. Meanwhile, he had seen the conflicted look on Clark's face, as he was doubtless thinking of the things he could do, whether it was some weird breath thing, or just punching through the door. 

Billy knew how to do this without revealing anyone’s powers, though. He stepped up to the hole, and was about to unzip his pants, when he realized, suddenly, that no, he didn’t have to be the one to do this. He may just be Billy right now, but he was still a part of a team. 

“Hey, Clark, you’re not actually going to let a child pee in a hole live on intergalactic TV, are you?” asked Billy, because he was a little jerk and couldn’t ask an adult nicely for something, without a little emotional blackmail. 

He should really work on that. 

The conversation behind him ground to a halt. 

“I, what? Oh…”

“No, it’s fine,” said Billy, unzipping his pants. 

“Stop!” said Clark, so Billy stopped. “No, I’m not letting an eleven year old pee in front of an audience.” He huffed. “This really is the only way, huh.”

“That’s why those little freaks took away our water? Seriously?!” Danny demanded. 

“Yup,” said Tim, sounding peeved. 

“Oh, they wanted entertainment.”

Clark sighed. “I guess I’m doing this.”

Billy felt intensely guilty, but zipped up and let Clark switch places with him. 

“Whelp, I guess we’ll just have to give them a better show than a grown man peeing in a hole,” said Danny. 

“Oh?” said Billy, game, but not sure what Danny was getting at. 

“Oh dangerous and powerful Billy! I challenge you to a fight to your doom!”

“What?”

Danny about tackled Billy, starting to wrestle and tickle him. 

“Ha- I didn’t- ha! Sign up for this!”

Billy really wasn’t a fan of what was going on. Danny wasn’t exactly some old creep, but he was still bigger and stronger than Billy. 

“Tim- ha! Tim, tap me out!” He said, reaching out his hand. 

Tim, grinning though he was at Billy’s plight, was quick to slap his hand. Danny, respecting the implied rules, was quick to drop Billy, turning to face off with Tim. Red Robin had him pinned on the ground in about a second, which Danny clearly had not been expecting.

“Billy, you ready for some payback?”

Billy grinned, and knelt down to get at Danny’s ribs. 

“Wait! Ha! Two on one! Ha! Two on one! Cheaters!”

It went on for a little too long. 

“How long have you- Ha ha! Standing there?”

The boys finally broke apart, seeing Clark watching them with a smirk, ping pong ball in hand. 

“You boys looked like you were having fun,” he said. 

“Ugh,” said Danny. “Some thanks I get.”

“Sorry, Danny. Thank you for being a distraction.”

Danny pulled in a breath through his nose and let it out as an aggrieved hum. The effect was a little lost, though, for how out of breath he was. 

Clark slotted the ball into the door, which opened with a fanfare of trumpets. Billy rolled his eyes. 

Tim was checking his phone. “According to the feed, we’re in the clear, vis-a-vis anything that shouldn’t be broadcast.”

“Oh good, so they do draw the line somewhere,” said Danny. “Hey! My cola’s back.”

He pulled the bottle from his pocket to take a drink. 

“Also,” said Tim, “there’s reports of people disappearing in flashes of white light. Estimates are all over the place, but it seems like it’s in the thousands.”

The mood sobered. 

“Well, shoot,” said Danny. 

“We’ll save them,” said Clark with a little too much conviction for a mild mannered reporter. 

Tim put his phone away and patted his jacket pocket. “Here’s my water,” he said. “Clark, hold out your hands.”

Clark thanked Tim, and let him pour out some water so he could rinse off his hands. 

“And then they never spoke of it again,” said Billy. “Except to say that you wannabe Macguyvers are actually idiots.”

Clark sighed.

Once again, they found themselves trapped with doors shut on either end of the section of hallway they were in.

“What now?” asked Billy, the first to approach the pedestal that was in the middle of the room. Water was running down the sides from the top of it.

The only other distinguishing features in the room were on the doors, vertical strips that appeared to be progress bars of some sort, they were blinking red on the bottom.

“It’s a face,” was Billy’s pronouncement. “Filled with water.”

It was indeed the impression of a face in the top of the pedestal.

“We sure that’s water?” asked Tim, having approached it as well. He held his hand over it and wafted the air over the pedestal towards his face.

“I don’t smell anything.”

Danny stuck a finger in.

“Seems fine,” he said.

“Can you be a little more cautious?” asked Tim.

“We’re on a time crunch,” said Danny. And he’d been feeling it. There were people they would need to save, and a limited time to do it in. They had no idea how far through the maze they were, or if they were even going in the right direction. They couldn’t wait to touch everything with a ten foot pole. They'd wasted enough time on the ping-pong ball gimmick, when Danny could have just reached through the floor for it, and instead chose not to.

“Anyway,” said Tim. “Stop up the water, and press our face in?” He didn’t sound hopeful.

“We can try,” said Clark. 

But, sure enough, no mater how hard they tried, they couldn’t find a source where the water was coming out. It was seemingly generating spontaneously.

“Alright, I’m game,” said Clark. He seemed to be in line with Danny’s way of thinking, because he just leaned down and pressed his face into the water.

On the walls, the progress bar slowly climbed up, still red.

After a few moments, Clark picked his head back up.

“Anything?” he asked.

The progress bars had immediately gone back to zero.

“Someone’s going to need to hold their breath a while,” said Tim, looking at Clark.

This wasn’t a problem for Clark to solve, though.

“I can hold my breath three minutes, easy,” said Danny, before Clark could volunteer. More like ten minutes, easy, but three minutes was slightly less insane.

“You can?” asked Billy.

“I’ve got a naturally slow heart rate,” said Danny. 

“Okay,” said Tim, “but, I want you to hold my hand through the whole thing. I give your hand a squeeze, you squeeze it back, so I know you’re okay.”

Danny made a face. That wasn’t exactly needed, but okay.

“Sure,” he said.

“I’ll poke you in the ribs when the doors are open,” said Billy.

Danny gave him a flat look. “My ears’ll be above the water, ya dingus.”

“Suit yourself,” said Billy.

“I don’t think we got a good impression of how long it would take to open the doors,” Clark said, sounding a little worried.

“We’ll figure it out,” said Tim.

Danny took a breath, closed his eyes, and stuck his face in the fountain. He kind of regretted it, immediately, as water started running down the front of him.

Tim was quick to take his hand, even though there was no conceivable way for Danny to be in any kind of distress already. Danny squeezed his hand back like he was trying to dominate a handshake.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tim.

Then, it was just a waiting game.

Until it wasn’t.

A little after Tim had said, “We’re about half-way,” there was a sudden rush of movement around Danny’s head, the splash of water, the clang of metal. Danny jolted, and his feet slipped on the wet marble floor, making him gag as his throat slammed painfully into the edge of the pedestal, losing a puff of air as he did so.

“Oh geez!” said Billy.

“We need to get him out of there,” said Clark.

Something had clamped over Danny’s head, keeping him stuck in the water.

Tim’s free hand grasped around Danny’s hip and held Danny steady. Danny squeezed Tim’s other hand firmly as he got his feet under him again.

“Danny, you’re okay?”

Danny squeezed his hand again. He was sure his eyes were watering, though with his face in the water there’d be no telling.

“He’s squeezing my hand,” said Tim. “One squeeze for yes, two for no. You’re okay?”

One squeeze.

He really wasn’t, though. It had been a real force of will to keep himself from immediately phasing through the trap. Over a year’s worth of instinct in not using his powers in his human form without checking the coast was clear, coming in clutch.

He was not strapped to a lab table. He could phase out any time he wanted. He could probably use ghost strength to bust out, if it came down to it. It would be stupid to do either, and reveal his powers. He was fine. He’d be let go once the doors were open.

Right? 

“The progress bar’s still moving,” said Billy.

“Alright,” said Clark. “Tim, keep an eye on Danny. Billy, start examining the walls and floor for anything irregular, anything that could be another puzzle. I’m going to start studying this contraption.”

“Still doing okay?” Tim asked.

Danny squeezed Tim’s hand again, very aware as Clark approached while Danny was trapped. 

Clark was trying to help. Danny wasn’t trapped. He could get out at any time. 

Except he couldn’t, because then his parents would know.

His heart rate wasn’t slow, now. But that was fine. He could still hold his breath for long enough.

“Hanging in there?” Tim asked him.

Danny squeezed his hand, then pulled his hand away to rub at his throat, as much as he could, before returning his hand to Tim.

“I’m not seeing anything,” said Billy.

He sounded a little frantic. How long had Danny been under, anyway? How was he supposed to know if he was holding his breath inhumanly long? Was he damned either way, showing off his ghost powers whether he busted himself out or not?

Three minutes wasn’t actually that out there, though. People could train themselves to hold it a lot longer. They had to prepare themselves for it, though. Danny had just stuck his face in. He had no idea how long this was supposed to last.

Should he look like he was struggling?

Would someone reveal a super power to bust him out if they thought he was struggling?

Would they keep their power a secret, and let Danny ‘drown.’

Danny started shifting his weight from foot to foot, sort of like he had to pee.

“Try not to move your muscles,” said Tim, setting his other hand on Danny’s back, rubbing it in a comforting way. “It’s only going to be a little longer.” 

Was that true? 

Danny did his best to hang as limply as he could. 

Tim squeezed his hand.

Danny squeezed back.

“So, I’m an amateur photographer,” said Tim. “I got my first camera when I was nine. Which is about when I started sneaking out to get pictures, around town. Got myself into so much trouble.”

Oh, so they were at the stage where Tim was talking about random things to keep Danny calm. It was embarrassing how much it helped. 

“It wasn’t just sneaking out, either, it was going places I shouldn’t to get the best pictures. Climbing places I shouldn’t have climbed. Anytime I got hurt, I’d have to take care of it myself so my parents wouldn’t find out.”

“How’d they find out, then?” asked Clark, still examining the cage. 

“Oh, they didn’t,” said Tim. “Almost over,” he told Danny. 

“For real this time,” Billy piped up. 

Danny squeezed Tim’s hand, but figured he should go back to pretending he was getting close to his limit, and started shifting his weight again. He was fine. He could keep going. How long had it been?

“So, said Tim, “when I said I got in trouble, I meant I got in peril. Got hurt or chased or mugged. But my parents never found out.”

“Were you very sneaky, or were they unobservant?” asked Clark. 

“A bit of both,” said Tim. 

“Really almost there,” said Billy. 

Danny brought his free hand up to feel around the cage, like he was thinking of busting it apart. He could bust it apart, right?

“Just a few more seconds, Danny,” said Tim. 

“Move your hand away from it, Danny,” said Clark. 

Danny move his hand away just before the thing sprung open. 

Jerking straight up, Danny started gasping for breath. 

He wasn’t sure if it was an act or not. 

“Holy crap,” he panted out. 

Tim and Clark both looked like they were ready to catch him if he fell.

“Danny, how about you sit down for a minute,” said Clark.

“Um, okay,” said Danny, and let Tim help him down to the ground, which, now he was sitting in the puddle of water that had been dribbling down his front.

 “Okay, that was insane,” said Billy. “I can say that, now that it’s over.”

“I didn’t realize you were waiting,” said Clark.

“Well, I didn’t want to freak Danny out,” said Billy.

“Already freaked out,” said Danny, starting to slow down his breathing to take deeper more even breaths. “How long even was that?” 

“Sorry, Danny. None of us were keeping track,” said Clark.

“Think I set a new record?” asked Danny.

“Maybe a personal one,” said Tim.

They were getting close to the exit, having passed through a number of dangerous or tricky obstacles. This was just ridiculous, though.

It was the stereotypical giant-blocks-falling-and-raising-back-up, and you have to get through without getting smashed. They went in pairs, this time, with Tim getting Billy through, and Clark escorting Danny through. Of course, they didn’t quite phrase it that way.

It was a simple pattern, one that was easy for Tim and Clark to parse; probably easy for Billy and Danny as well. Tim and Billy had gotten through without issue. It was as Clark and Danny were going through, though, that the pattern suddenly changed. 

“Woah!” Danny called out as they were about to be crushed.

They both tried to save each other, which was the problem, and the kid clearly had some manner of enhanced strength, which was about what messed Clark up for not expecting it. He was reasonably certain he could have gotten them both out and made it look completely natural, but instead his right foot was still in the strike zone. He was expecting his foot to break the stone, and reveal his invulnerability, but instead a cold feeling shot through him, and the stone passed through his heel.

“Whew,” said Danny. “Just got out by a hair.” 

He was looking at Clark just as consideringly as Clark was looking at him. He didn’t doubt the kid had felt a measure of Clark’s super strength, just as Clark had felt his, and, what? Density shifting? Intangibility? Add that to possible flight and an unusually long ability to hold his breath. Was the kid some long lost Martian, polymorphed as a human?

It wouldn’t quite make sense, though. Martian Manhunter was leagues stronger than Miss Martian, largely by virtue of his age and experience. Danny presumably was still an actual child. So, why would he be considered more powerfully dangerous than Martian Manhunter? To say nothing of the fact that, had Danny been a refugee from Mars since the genocide of the Green Martians, it was incredibly unlikely J’onn would not have noticed him on the planet by now.

Also, he didn’t think it was normal for a Martian to have a heartbeat so low. Or thermoses next to their spleens.

“You guys okay?” asked Billy, who had been handling this whole thing very well. It was clear he was nervous, but his nerves didn’t seem to be holding him back.

“Yeah, we’re good,” said Danny.

“Let’s move on,” said Clark.

“Let’s hope your intuition’s leading us where we need to go,” said Billy.

It had been a challenge just getting this far. A challenge, that was, to not reveal his powers. Superman could have gotten the boys through in seconds. Clark had to take each trial in their path one at a time, just barely able to get the kids through without injury.

Being Clark Kent was immeasurably important to him, but he very much did not relish needing to do the duties of Superman under the guise of a mild mannered journalist.

They were almost to the end, though. What they would need to do to get out, remained to be seen. There had certainly never been any indications of these different trials for Clark’s x-ray vision, until they were right upon them.

It was a sphinx, guarding the exit.

“I’m pretty sure this is a copyright issue,” said Billy.

“No more than Nintendo can sue for that last challenge,” said Tim.

“You will not leave here alive, unless you can answer my riddles three,” said the sphinx. The claws on their front paws were glowing a sickly shade of green, and there was definitely an unpleasant aura about it. Nothing kryptonite related, though. 

Clark was entirely certain he could take it in a fight; he’d just avoid whatever was going on with those claws.

Tim took a small step forward. “I’m game,” he said.

The sphinx smiled at him. “What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?”

“Easy,” said Tim. “A river.”

“Ooohh,” said Billy after a moments consideration. Meanwhile, the green glow on the sphinx’s claws had dimmed.

“A woman shoots her husband, then holds him underwater for five minutes. Next, she hangs him. Right after, they enjoy a lovely dinner together. How is this possible?”

Tim smiled, as Danny leaned towards him and whispered, “It’s not that he’s a ghost, right?”

“No,” said Tim. “The answer is that she shot a photo of her husband, then developed the photo of him in a solution for five minutes, before hanging the picture to dry. The husband was alive the whole time.”

“Indeed.” Another step-down to the glow from the sphinx’s claws. “Lighter than what I am made of, more of me is hidden than is seen, pilot’s bane, a fragment far from home. What am I?”

“An iceberg,” Tim answered.

The glow completely died to nothing as the sphinx’s smile became a little more sinister. “Then you may yet survive my attack,” it said, taking an offensive stance, as the boss battle music started playing.

Was this how Clark was going to lose his secret identity?

Then Tim shoved his taser into Clark’s hand as he walked forward.

“Come at me, then!” Tim shouted, his arms out high. 

The sphinx charged at Tim.

Clark ran forward and to the side, leapt, jumped off the wall, and jabbed the taser into the back of the creature’s neck as it passed trying to get at Tim.

It fell to the ground, twitching, before it turned into purple smoke with a whoosh, dissipating across the floor.

Behind Tim, Billy had apparently been holding Danny back. Clark wondered what Danny would have done, if Tim and Clark had not dealt with the sphinx so quickly.

“You learn that in a corn maze?” asked Billy.

Clark was making a show of catching his breath and looking uncertain. “Well,” he said. “Maybe more, wrangling a bull. That was, uh. Tim, that was quick thinking.”

“I mean, you pulled it off,” said Tim.

“Were you going for another Wayne Enterprises body armor commercial?” Danny asked, actually sounding a little peeved. “It could have ripped you apart!”

“I was going for Clark taking it down before it could get to me,” said Tim.

Danny huffed.

“The important thing is, we’re all okay,” said Clark.

Walking outside, the game master was quick to join them as flares shot dramatically into the sky.

“Well, well!” they shouted. “You completed the maze in one hour and twenty-seven minutes! You’ve certainly got enough time left to save our hostages.”

“Where are they?” asked Clark, though the truth was he already knew the horrifying answer.

“Why, they’re just over there,” said the game master, pointing in the distance, where an enormous depression in the ground was only just visible.

“Let’s hurry,” said Clark. 

The four of them ran until the terrible visage became clear to the boys.

“That’s sick!” Tim growled out.

“Is that real?!” asked Billy.

“Ancients!” said Danny.

“Eight thousand Earthlings, down there,” said the game master, suddenly beside them once more.

The hole in the ground was deep and massive, with straight unclimbable edges. Inside were indeed eight thousand people. And below them, a force field was all that kept them from falling into a great roiling mess of shredding wheels, already at speed. The people were screaming and crying. Trying to climb out, and fighting to get to the walls. Already, people had been trampled. Clark could also see a couple of Atlanteans on the ground, clearly suffering from having been out of the water for too long.

“Eight thousand,” the game master said again.

“Let them go!” Danny said coldly. 

“It’s not much compared to the eight billion your planet holds,” the game master went on as if Danny hadn’t said anything. “Oh, it may be that someone down there is your neighbor, your friend, your lover. But, it’s only a one in a million chance.”

“How do we get them out?” Clark ground out.

He was fast enough to get them all out in under a half-hour, but he would need to make four thousand trips, carrying pairs of people, at half a second per trip. He didn’t have Flash’s Speed force to break physics. He could get them out, but not without killing them from accelerating and decelerating with them too quickly. Even if Danny and his hypothetical flight ability helped out, it was completely non-viable. 

“Oh, that’s easy,” said the game master. “Barely an inconvenience. But first! I would like to direct your attention to our left.

Clark looked. There was now a freestanding doorway about twenty feet away, complete with an ornate oak door.  

“That door will allow just one person to leave this game completely, back to their life with no further responsibility or danger.”

Clark, Tim, and Danny’s eyes all went to Billy. Billy’s eyes rolled at them.

“What’s the catch?” he asked.

“Well, if you would just look to your right,” the game master prompted.

Looking to their right, there were now four stone plinths set into the ground. The game master disappeared, but his voice remained.

“Stand with one of you on each plinth, at the same time, and everyone below will be returned to where we took them from. The door will leave with them, however.” 

“Did you take any of them from an airplane? Or a ship? From traffic?” asked Tim. “Because that’s liable to kill them if you send them back to those exact spots.

“They’ll be returned safely,” said the game master dismissively. “You have twenty eight minutes to decide, but, oh. It looks like they’re hurting themselves down there. The poor things. You should probably make up your minds soon; and be willing to enforce your will on the others should they disagree.”

“Boys, I can’t ask you to continue risking your lives,” said Clark, his focus back on the people down below. “But, if you stay with me, I promise you, I will do everything in my power-”

“Get over here, loser,” Billy hollered, “we’re saving the day.”

Clark looked over to see the boys were already running to the plinths.

“Ah,” said Clark, before he rushed over.

“Are you certain?” the game master asked as they neared the plinths. “I am not the game master for all of your upcoming trials, but I can promise you, they will be dangerous.”

“We’re not letting you eviscerate eight thousand people,” Danny said, his voice cutting as he took to his plinth.

Clark did not dignify the man with an answer. He burned to at least get Billy out, but at the cost of everyone below them…

One way or another, he would get Billy out of this. He’d get all of them out, whatever it cost him, personally. He stepped up just as Tim did. Billy had to give a little hop to get his foot on the platform. As he did so, there was a great shudder through the ground as the giant pit simply disappeared, and a grand fireworks display went off.

“And, with twenty-seven minutes to spare, our contestants have saved the lives of every single hostage!” declared the host, instead of the game master. “Because of the bravery and commitment of our contestants, Antantlous, all glory be, has healed all of the hostages' injuries. A wonderful game from our cleric game master.”

“All glory to Antantlous,” said the game master.

“And now, let’s get some comments from our contestants.”

“Hello!” cried a new Tantalan. “I am your cleric interviewer. All glory to Antantlous. Can I get a boo-yeah!”

None of them boo-yeah’d, but from the stands there was a roar of the cheer.

“Alright! Now, let’s start with our youngest competitor,” they said, walking towards Billy, who had jumped down from his plinth.

“So, Billy, how are you doing after our first game?”

Billy gave them a sour look. “Would be better if there weren’t any games.”

“Now, I understand you’ve been homeless this last year and a half. Actually, you were pretty hungry when you were sent to the green room, weren’t you?”

“I take care of myself,” Billy said evenly.

“It’s always so sad when a society can’t take care of its children,” said the interviewer. “Are you here to show why your society should invest in children like you?”

“What? I’m here because you abducted me!”

“Well, one wonders what a child with such power may do without the proper nurturing.”

Billy glowered at them. Clark decided to intervene.

“Well, I’d like to say that homelessness is a failing of society,” he said, stepping between the interviewer and Billy. “The homelessness of children all the more so. If I could just take a moment to advocate for housing first-”

“Oh, and you’re a family man, aren't you? Do you have anything to say to your loved ones back home?”

Clark gave a thin lipped smile. “That I love them very much, and I’m doing everything I can to come safely home to them.”

They turned away from him. Apparently they were only interested in asking hard hitting questions when they were questioning an eleven year old about his homelessness.

“Danny, there you are! A respectable showing in the maze, I thought. Though riddles clearly aren’t your forte.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Danny, cringing away from her a little. 

“So, it sounds like there’s a lot of drama back at home about all these ghosts. How do you think your parents felt to hear you speak against their life’s work?”

“You’re assuming they’re…” Danny cut himself off, and Clark really wondered if he had been about to cast doubt on if his parents were watching the broadcast where their son had been abducted to. “They know I disagree with the way they go about things. I really do think it would be great, though, if people could start calling their representatives about the Anti-Ecto acts. They’re a travesty.”

“And is there any reason you feel so personally about this issue?”

It was Danny’s turn to press his lips together at their question. “I hope my parents change their ways. Until they do, I really don’t want to be a part of their legacy.”

“Oh dear! Well, you’re certainly carving out your own as we speak! Then, there’s Tim! Mr. CEO, you’re definitely used to answering an interviewer’s questions.”

Tim gave them a flat look. “No comment.”

“Oh, boo,” they said. “Surely you’d like the opportunity to show the world the real Tim Drake.”

“No comment.”

“And there you have it!” the host called out from the ether. “That’s a wrap for this episode of: Antantlous Presents - The Rise and Fall of Atlas! Tune in next week for another exciting episode where we test the ins and outs of Earth’s most powerful and dangerous citizens! But! Don’t think we’ll leave you hanging in the intervening time. You can tune in every day, 6:00 PM Eastern Standard Time to catch up with what our contestants have been up to. See you then!”

The world went white.

Chapter Text

As much as he had not wanted Tim to be broadcast in his trials to the whole world, Bruce still felt very strongly when the feed finally cut off and he could no longer see how Tim was doing. 

“Any luck in reaching the Fentons?” he asked. 

“They’re still not picking up,” said Cyborg. “We sent an officer to do a welfare check. There wasn’t any response at the door. Someone from the school has been trying to call, though.”

“Let’s put them on,” said Wonder Woman. 

One good thing about the broadcast being over was they could use all of their screens again, and the main screen of the conference room they were using transitioned to showing a man’s ear. There was, still, another countdown in the corner of the screen, though. Twenty-one hours, three minutes, remaining until the next broadcast.

“Mr. Lancer?” asked Cyborg. 

“Oh, excellent,” the man said. 

“You’re on video,” said Cyborg. 

“I… what?”

The man pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it. 

“The Great Gatsby!” the man exclaimed upon seeing the assembled heroes. 

Checking the notes Cyborg had forwarded, the man was both the school vice principal, and an English teacher. He seemed to be home, in some manner of den. 

“We understand you have been trying to reach us about Daniel Fenton.”

“Yes! Yes. That’s what I’m trying to do. Of course, we’re all very concerned about him. None of this is making any sense. I mean, unlike his parents, the boy’s completely harmless.”

“Then, you would agree with his assessment of his parents as ‘menaces?” asked Bruce.

“Well, not to speak ill of people that aren’t here…their intentions are usually in the right place.”

“And, you can’t think of any reason Danny would have been taken?” asked Bruce.

“No! He’s…out of everyone in his family, he’s the odd one out. Not to compare Jasmine to their parents, but she’s a very high achieving young woman, as, I suppose, the Doctors Fenton are. Sometimes too high achieving. And, Danny’s got no interest in anything dangerous. I mean, he’s always the first to disappear when there’s a ghost attack.”

Bruce was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one to blink at that. Both at the confirmation that there was a ghost problem in Amity Park, but also at the very familiar phenomenon described.

“The first to disappear,” he asked.

“Oh, I mean, it’s to the point, well, he also has a trend of disappearing shortly before the attacks. So, there’s actually a bet amongst us teachers, on whether his parents made him some sort of early warning device, but I bet against it. Seeing as, he does seem a good friend, and he never pulls his friends away with him. What were we talking about?”

“What of Daniel’s assessment that he may have picked up some…mad science, from his parents?”

“Well, he could stand to bring his grades up in Science, and across the board,” Mr. Lancer said, clearly aggrieved of the boy’s academic achievements. “But he’s not even allowed to handle anything fragile in labs, what with all the glassware he broke his freshman year. Of course…that was after his accident,” Mr. Lancer amended with a little chagrin.

“Accident, you say?” asked Diana.

“Yes, he was hospitalized briefly, towards the beginning of his freshman year, last year. Academic year. He’s a sophomore.”

“Thank you for clarifying. What manner of accident was this?”

“Ah, something in his parents’ lab. I understand he was electrocuted, somehow?  I guess, he had trouble holding onto things, after that…Really, by all accounts, he was a much better student in junior high, before the accident.” Mr. Lancer sighed. “You know, he might qualify for a 504 plan.” It sounded as though the thought had just occurred to him.

“His parents have not requested one?” asked Bruce, wondering about the parents no one could get a hold of when their son had been abducted, at the same time he was drawing parallels between Danny Fenton and various super powered teenagers lacking guidance.

“Ah, well…His parents, the Doctors Fenton, do care about their children, very much. They just…aren’t very attentive.”

“I don’t suppose you have any understanding of what goes on in this lab?” asked Flash, who himself had received his powers in a lab accident.

“Well, it’s mostly the development of anti-ghost technology,” said Mr. Lancer. “Now they’ve got their ‘ghost portal’ up and running-”

“Their what?!” Constantine about roared.

Mr. Lancer started, nervous. “Ah, well. I mean. It’s their claim to fame. They built a portal to the ‘ghost zone’ in their basement, I think, right around the time of Danny’s accident.”

“Is it still active?!” 

“Ah, my understanding is it can’t be shut down? But, besides, it’s got some sort of shield on it, keeping ghosts from coming in. Just…well, they say Amity was always haunted, and the ghosts find other ways in.”

Constantine was clearly having an existential crisis.

Bruce decided to push forward the conversation. “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to tell us more about Phantom.”

“Phantom?” asked Mr. Lancer. “Well, Danny was right that no one would confuse the two of them, what with their phenotypes being completely different. And, what with Phantom being a ghost, and all,” he said with a nervous laugh. “But, yes, the Ghost Boy, Inviso-Bill; I guess he likes to be called Phantom. Um, he appeared around the time the ghost attacks started, or the ‘ghost events’ as the youth like to call them, since the ghosts aren’t always, strictly speaking, malicious. Well, just, alien, like Danny said. No, um, no offense to any present…” He was squinting at his screen as though trying to see if any of the Justice League’s resident aliens were present in the crowd.

“He’s your town superhero?” 

“Well, some people call him that, especially our students. He’s got a bit of a spotty record, but he usually pulls through when it matters, I suppose.”

“Spotty record?” asked Bruce.

“Well, the property damage, of course. Though, that’s gotten much better. Then there’s the…I suppose generally out of character sort of episodes. Well. Who knows why ghosts do anything. But, there was the time he attacked the mayor. And, the time he burgled that jewelry store. Which, were isolated incidents, but still.”

Another window suddenly opened on the call.

“Sam, wait!”

“Okay, first of all, the mayor was overshadowed at the time, and Phantom saved him, so jot that down.”

“Oh my god, Sam,” said the boy next to her.

“Second of all, Frederich Isak Showenhower, who was arrested and convicted for the burglary, used magical mind control to enslave a number of ghosts, Phantom included.”

Across the table, Bruce saw Zatanna mouth the word ‘Showenhower’ with a somewhat disgusted look on her face, indicating the intel may well be accurate.

“Wuthering Heights! What are the two of you doing on this call?!” asked Mr. Lancer.

“Sam, hang up the call,” said the boy.

“Mr. Foley, we have talked before about hacking, and we will talk about it again tomorrow, first thing in the morning, in my office.”

“We have school tomorrow?!” 

“Of course we have school tomorrow,” said Mr. Lancer.

Young Mr. Foley made a gesture that seemed to indicate the situation they were all in.

“Pariah Dark,” Mr. Lancer started, and Constantine choked on his spit, “pulled this entire town into the ghost zone, and we still had school the next day.”

“Yeah, because Phantom stopped him,” said Sam.

How could an entire American town be transported to another dimension, and the Justice League had been none the wiser?

“Wait a bloody minute,” Constantine said. “Pariah Dark is awake?!”

“For like five minutes,” the young Mr. Foley said dismissively.

“Plasmius opened his sarcophagus of forever sleep to steal his crown or whatever, and Pariah threw a fit about it. Phantom had to seal him up again, to get the town back to Earth. Because he’s cool like that.”

“On his own?” asked Constantine. “He didn’t have any help?”

“Yeah, on his own,” said the young Mr. Foley.

“How would you know?” asked Mr. Lancer. “Anyway, what is this, the Phantom appreciation hour? I would expect the two of you to be more concerned with your friend, than with the reputation of the local teen idol you worship,” said Mr. Lancer, most likely the only individual in this conversation who did not at least strongly suspect that Phantom and Danny were one and the same.

“Literally, Paulina’s the only one with a shrine to him,” said the young Mr. Foley.

Zatana put her face in her hands. 

“And that’s another thing!” said Sam, refocusing her gaze. “What’s the Justice League doing to get all of the kidnapped back, and not just Superman and Red Robin?”

“Sam, I am begging you to chill.”

“Miss Manson, really,” said Mr. Lancer. “No one’s going to mistake a reporter and a CEO for members of the Justice League.”

Samantha Manson. Bruce had thought she looked familiar, though he had never seen her with so much dark makeup. The girl scoffed at Mr. Lancer’s dismissal.

“The Justice League has not, does not, and will not comment on the hypothetical civilian identities of any of its members,” Wonder Woman said. “Nor does it comment on whether any particular citizen may or may not be a particular hero. Regardless, civilian safety is always the Justice League’s top priority. We are doing everything in our power to locate and rescue every abductee, and prevent more from being taken.” Which, at this point, basically just meant they were scrambling to understand what was going on. “Is there anything you could tell us about your friend that could help us?”

“He’s a good dude?” said the young Mr. Foley, clearly not ready to divulge any secrets.

“Probably the best one you have up there,” Sam said with a note of challenge. She clearly was not a fan of the Justice League, and Bruce could hardly fault her for it, when, by all appearances, her home town had been besieged by ghosts for over a year with not so much as a check in by the Justice League. How much of the population there felt abandoned?

“Do any of you know how we can reach the boy’s parents?” asked Diana.

Mr. Lancer grimaced, Sam rolled her eyes, and the young Mr. Foley gave an almost bitter laugh.

“You would be better off calling Daniel’s sister,” said Mr. Lancer. “She’s usually pretty good about shoving a phone into one of their hands.”

“Hn,” said Bruce.

“And you two, both of you, will be in my office, at seven-thirty, tomorrow morning.”

“But the bus doesn’t get to school until seven-forty-five,” the young Mr. Foley complained.

“Then you had best explain to your parents why you need a ride,” said Mr. Lancer.

“Alright, I’m hanging up before this gets any worse,” said the young Mr. Foley, taking the phone from his friend and doing just that.

They picked Mr. Lancer’s brain a little more on the ghosts, but he was not entirely helpful. Bruce’s impression of the man was that of someone who stuck to their own lane exclusively. And, as Mr. Lancer’s lane did not involve dealing with ghosts, he left it to others to worry about them.

Constantine started pacing and muttering as soon as the call was over.

“Cyborg, was that modern-day_pharaoh?” asked Oracle.

“I think it was,” said Cyborg.

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“Always good to put a face to a name.”

“And a name to a name,” said Cyborg.

“So, the Fenton kid’s Phantom, somehow, right?” said Green Arrow, interrupting the hacker gossip. “Like, we all noticed that?”

“Yes, we all noticed that,” said Flash.

“But he’s alive?” said Hawkman. “So how does that work?”

“It would work, if…” Zatanna started, before considering, nodding, and saying, “if he were a halfa.”

“A what?” asked Flash.

“They were exterminated, a millennia ago,” said Constantine, done with his muttering.

“Right,” said Zatanna. “By Pariah Dark, who genocided them, because they weren’t insects, John.”

“Not the time, luv,” said Constantine.

“The point being,” Zatanna continued. “The story goes, Pariah Dark genocided the halfas because he heard a prophecy that a halfa would take his crown from him.”

Constantine had the look of a man who really did not like the conclusions he was drawing.

“They’re extinct,” he tried.

“They were created in the first place,” said Zatanna. “However rare they were. It’s not like they propagated sexually. Whatever created them in the past, could have created one more recently. Perhaps even in a freak lab accident with a portal to the Infinite Realms.”

Constantine puffed up his cheeks as he blew out a breath. “Yeah, that’s, uh, logical.”

“Halfas. Ghost kings,” said Flash. “I have some questions.”

“A halfa,” said Constantine. “We can start there. You probably think of death as a very binary definitive thing. For most intents and purposes, sure, that works. But it can also exist as a continuum. There are ghosts, and other dead entities, that are a little closer to life. And, likewise, there are living people that have been touched by death. It’s called liminality. And, usually, it’s just a smidge in one direction or the other. But, the story goes, there used to be beings who so perfectly straddled the divide, half alive, and half dead, they could step over from one side to the other at will. So…a boy could be alive, go to school, one minute, and be a ghost fighting other ghosts the next.”

That was a lot to take in.

“Again, though,” said Zatanna, “not much is known about them. Precisely because, for the longest time, they’ve been thought to be extinct. Mostly just that, yes, they can straddle both sides of the divide, and they were said to be stronger than the average ghost. Most notably, according to legend, a halfa would dethrone Pariah Dark and take his crown.”

“So…Danny Fenton, who just had a tickle fight with Red Robin, is the Ghost King,” said Green Arrow.

He would not be the first incredibly powerful person Tim had roughhoused with.

“If you put a whole bunch of suppositions together,” said Constantine.

“Would that qualify him as one of the four most powerfully dangerous individuals on Earth, though?” asked Hawkman with some doubt.

Zatanna shook her head. “You’re all probably thinking of Deadman, when you think about ghosts. Intangible, invisible, by default; without Deadman’s ability to possess others. But Deadman formed on Earth. He does not have near the power of a ghost that formed in the Infinite Realms, which we seem to be dealing with here.”

“Because some mad twats thought it would be fun to rend a hole through the fabric of spacetime!” Constantine growled.

“They can very much interact with the world around them, with super strength,” Zatanna went on. “Create blasts of ectoplasm, shields of ectoplasm, become invisible and intangible at will. Most of them also have Deadman’s ability to possess pretty much anyone they want to, to say nothing of the fact that many of them have reality bending powers that align with whatever their obsessions are.” 

“And the Ghost King is the biggest and baddest of them all?” asked Green Arrow.

Zatanna and Constantine shared a look.

“Mate, when we tell you we don’t actually know much about this, please believe us,” said Constantine.

“I’ll remind you, the Ghost King was dormant for centuries,” said Zatanna. “We don’t really know much about the Ghost King, in general. What is recorded is that Pariah Dark specifically was an incredibly powerful ghost. Possibly with the help of one or more objects of power.”

“A ring and a crown,” said Constantine. “According to legend.”

“Once known to also be a wise ruler, until he heard the prophecy of his own downfall, and committed a genocide against the halfas. This led to general unrest in the Infinite Realms, which led to him becoming more and more tyrannical. Eventually, the Ancient Masters banded together to seal him into a ‘Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep’.”

“We don’t know if being the Ghost King imbues one with any particular power,” said Zatanna. “But given the circumstances…”

“So, is this like a single armed combat sort of thing?” asked Hawkman.

“Mate,” said Constantine, long sufferingly. “We just don’t know. It is a distinct possibility, though.”

“Ancient Masters?” asked Flash.

“Oh, boy, let me tell you about the Ancient Masters,” said Constantine.

“John, you may like breaking ten people’s concepts of reality before breakfast, but that’s not a good use of our time right now,” said Zatanna.

“Fine, fine. Probably don’t need to worry about them,” said Constantine.

Bruce would question them about it later.

“So…” Green Arrow started. “It’s possible to summon demons, right?”

“We are not summoning a demon!” Zatanna cried, as John said, “Are you out of your bloody god damned mind?!”

“I wasn’t suggesting we do!” said Green Arrow. “I was wondering if perhaps the Ghost King could be summoned in a similar manner.”

That brought the two sorcerers up short.

“I mean, I know there’s a documented ritual for summoning the ghost king,” said Zatanna. “It’s locked up and protected. For obvious reasons.”

“Mind,” said Constantine, “we don’t actually know this kid is the Ghost King, and we wouldn’t just be summoning Pariah Dark back out of his Sarcophagus.”

“Call that plan D, then,” said Green Arrow.

“Alright, contestants, how are we doing after our first day of production?” asked a whole new cleric, who was in the room with them. 

The room seemed to be some sort of lounge, or living room. Nearby was a kitchenette and dining area, and there was a door from the lounge that only Clark could see led to a bedroom with four beds. 

Clark would take the couch. 

Looking past the walls, Clark saw…nothing. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see through them, like if they were lined with lead, there was just nothing past the walls, below the floor, or above the ceiling. As though they were in some manner of void.

There was also no door leading outside. Why would there be? They were to be teleported around at the Tantalan’s will.

“Are we still on camera?” he asked.

“Oh, you’ve never been on camera,” said the cleric. “Just the all seeing eye of Antantlous.”

Wonderful.

“Well,” said Clark, “what I’m trying to get at, is, you mentioned that people could see what we have been up to, tomorrow. Can we expect anything we do or say here to turn up on tomorrow’s broadcast?”

“Well,” the cleric said, “I wouldn’t say anything happening in the dormitory is part of our scheduled programming, but anything TV worthy could very well end up in the broadcast, yes.”

“Okay, but are we going to have privacy in the bathroom, or is Antantlous a little freak like-”

Danny was suddenly cut off as a mess of bubbles poured out of his mouth and he gagged.

“Stop that!” Clark said to the cleric.

“It is glory to Antantlous, not blasphemy,” said the Host.

Danny was scrambling for his pockets, but it seemed his water had disappeared. Tim pulled his own out, only for it to disappear as well. Danny hacked and spat all the way to the kitchenette, where the water wouldn’t turn on.

“Dude, he’s learned his lesson!” cried Billy. “He won’t do it again.”

“I suppose,” the cleric said, ponderously.

He sure took his time snapping his fingers. Rather than banishing the bubbles from Danny’s mouth, the water in the sink turned on. Danny was quick to rinse his mouth out, and Clark, Billy, and Tim all fumed in silence as they waited for him.

Danny’s mouth had been rinsed out well before he finally turned off the water and faced the room, having taken a moment to calm down a little. He was sure, as he faced everyone, his eyes were red, his hair disheveled, and he looked the very image of a sullen and humiliated teenager. He stayed in the kitchenette, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Hm, yes,” said the cleric, “that may well be broadcast worthy.”

Danny fumed. Across the room, he saw Clark clench his fist. 

Danny tried not to fantasize about violence too much, not more than any brawl happy ghost, anyway, but…well, he’d really like to punch this guy’s head off.

“If we could return to the subject of the bathroom,” Tim said evenly, which, thank you, Tim.

Danny had had an ulterior motive in asking, in the first place, aside from the obvious privacy concern. A little something to do with the thermos he had tucked away in his gut, at the moment. A thermos he would be entirely loathe to keep there through this entire ordeal, for more than one reason.

“Well, I should think those activities would be rather boring,” said the cleric. “Unless polling shows us something different…Well, just don’t do anything broadcast worthy in there.”

“Please remember these are children,” said Clark. “And, what do you consider broadcast worthy?”

“Now, that would be telling,” said the cleric.

That was very much not good enough. Scrambling for another angle, Danny could, unfortunately, only think of one thing. 

“And if a guy needs some alone time?” he blurted out, sure his face was flaming all over again. He was looking at the floor, but he could well imagine the unimpressed looks on everyone’s faces. Great, now they thought he was just horny 24/7.

It was official. He was as bad at coming up with cover stories as Jazz was.

“Well, there are three separate spaces here, with doors between them,” said the cleric. “As many as two of you could be completely alone at a time.”

“Yes, but…” Danny started, but at this point was too uncomfortable to continue. He tried to think of some other way of finding out if there could ever be any guarantee of privacy. Before he could, though, the cleric clapped their hands.

“Well, that’s all from me. Rest up; you’ll be busy, tomorrow.”

“Wait,” said Clark, but the cleric was already gone.

Clark sighed. 

“Alright, nice meeting you guys, but I actually would like to be alone right now,” said Danny, very much wanting to disappear for the next long while.

“Wait,” said Tim, “you’re just going for it?”

“Oh, Ancients,” said Danny, covering his face with his hands and starting to feel overwrought with the just…everything about the situation. And, yeah, he’d dug this particular grave for himself. “I’m going to go brood. And be angsty. All that. Not…that.”

“Dude, what have you guys been talking around?” asked Billy, making both Tim and Danny fluster.

“Never you mind,” said Tim.

“It’s gross; you don’t want to hear about it,” said Danny.

Clark sighed. “It’s healthy and normal, and private. And Billy, you can ask a trusted adult about it when this is all over.”

Ancients, Clark, Danny had already taken enough psychic damage for one evening!

A laugh burst through Billy’s lips, shattering his look of innocence, before he started cackling. Because Billy was apparently a little gremlin.

“Hah! I know what gross teenagers do, already. I was just messing with you guys.”

Yep, time to remove himself from this conversation. He grumbled as he closed himself off in the bedroom. 

Clark considered he really hoped his ‘healthy and normal’ speech wasn’t going to get clipped for broadcast. He was well aware Jon’s classmates would quote it at him endlessly if it did.

Tim wondered if Clark knew he had just potentially committed a social homicide against his own son with that comment. Tim certainly wasn’t going to say anything about it, in case he gave the Tantalan’s the idea that it was TV worthy. There were a lot of things that couldn’t be said out loud. A lot of things that couldn’t be acknowledged.

…

That was actually a good consideration, with regard to Danny questioning about alone time. Not that Tim hadn’t encountered the odd peer in his time both randy enough and confident enough to ask a question like that, but Danny hadn’t been confident. He’d been mortified. So, to ask that question within hours of this starting…

Danny perhaps had something secret he needed to do in private, important enough to embarrass himself in front of everyone over. 

“Do you think I should check on Danny?” asked Clark.

“Absolutely not,” said Tim. “He just had his mouth washed out with soap, in front of us, and tomorrow in front of the whole world. Let him lick his wounds in private.”

“Woah, you think he can lick it?” asked Billy.

“Billy,” Clark said, very disapprovingly with his dad voice. 

“Sorry,” said Billy, immediately chagrinned. No wonder Jon was such a good kid, if Clark’s disappointed face was so powerful.

“I know you might want to seem older than you are, especially in this situation,” said Clark. “But let’s not make sex jokes about our friends to compensate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Billy, flushing red.

“I’ll, uh, see what we’ve got going on in the kitchen,” said Clark. “Maybe make something for dinner.”

Tim wondered when the last time Billy had eaten was, before that moon pie.

“I can cook my own meals,” said Billy.

“Maybe you can help me cook,” said Clark.

“Oh,” said Billy, shifting awkwardly where he sat on the couch.

It turned out there wouldn’t be any actual cooking. There was a refrigerator, with beverages and ready to eat cold items; a hot box, with ready to eat meals; and a pantry, with simple snacks.

“How considerate of them,” said Clark, entirely sardonic.

“Anything good in there?” asked Tim.

“You’ll have to come and find out,” said Clark.

Tim wondered if Clark had had aspirations of establishing himself as the responsible adult by cooking for them. It was the sort of thing he’d do.

He found a cheeseburger and fries in the hot box, and considered that if ever there was a time to eschew an athlete’s diet, it was on a day like this. Coming up from beside him, Billy selected a big bowl of macaroni and cheese. Turning around, though, they were confronted by Clark holding out a couple of salads from the fridge. 

“Thanks, mom,” Tim said with as much teenaged snark as he could.

“Crunch goes the vegetables,” said Billy in a singsong voice, taking his salad without any attitude, before humming the rest of whatever ditty had come to mind. Tim wasn’t familiar with it.

Taking a seat at the small dining table, it was set up like one might find at a restaurant, with a condiments caddy and a container holding upright utensils.

“Maybe I should take Danny something,” said Clark, who had hesitated to join them.

“It hasn’t even been five minutes, Clark,” said Tim. “Just leave him be.”

Clark sighed. “You’re right.”

He really was going to be a mother hen about all of this, wasn’t he? 

Though, Tim wondered if that was all it was. Was Clark hearing something Tim couldn’t from the other room? Did Danny need someone to be in there with him?

Well, Clark would bust in if it was an emergency, whatever Tim had to say about it, if Danny was having an actual panic attack.

Clark came over with a big chicken salad with a side of garlic bread.

“Man, can four was probably the biggest jerk we had to deal with, today,” said Billy. 

“Can four?” asked Clark, echoing Tim’s confusion. 

“Cleric Asshole Number 4,” said Billy, giving a charming smile. “CAN4.”

“That’s one way to differentiate them,” said Clark, looking like he was torn between laughing and admonishing Billy for his language. 

“Have you checked your phone?” asked Billy.

It hadn’t even occurred to Tim, yet, that perhaps with the broadcast over, he could make a call. Pulling out his phone, Tim dialed Bruce.

The screen was promptly replaced with the same ticker of social media posts. Tim sighed. “No, it’s still just the socials feed.”

“That’s what I meant,” said Billy. “What’re people saying?”

“Let’s see,” said Tim. “Hm, hostages were returned without issue. And…oh, boy.”

“What?” asked Billy and Clark.

“Well, #billybaby and #yeetthebaby are trending,” said Tim. “And, unfortunately, so is #peeshy.”

“Those are all unfortunate,” Billy said flatly. “How am I a baby?!”

“I don’t think anyone’s saying you’re a baby,” said Clark. “Just that you’re the baby of the group, by virtue of being the youngest.”

Tim hummed doubtfully. “I mean, that’s some of it, sure.”

“And, yeet the baby?” said Billy.

Tim pulled up a gif and showed it to him. It showed a very artfully shot clip of Billy running to his big leap with Clark and Tim’s hands moving to Billy’s back, which cut to the original vine, with Clark’s face interposed over the thrower, and a tiny image of Billy’s face interposed over the empty can.

“Well, I’m not empty,” Billy said mulishly, around a bite of his dinner. “I’m full of stuff. Like spite. And malice.”

“And mac and cheese?” asked Tim.

“And mac and cheese,” Billy agreed, very seriously.

The feed also had a lot of people speculating on why they had been chosen, though people did seem to be treating the ideas that CEO Tim Drake-Wayne and mild mannered reporter Clark Kent could be superheroes as a joke.

“Mm, #cornpowers is also trending,” said Tim.

#justcornthings

#cornsavant

“Yes, I can see,” said Clark, who was examining his own phone’s feed.

“Corn powers?” asked Billy. “Oh, because you’ve done every single corn maze ever in Kansas.”

“I haven’t done that many corn mazes,” said Clark, as Tim masked his surprise.

Clark had never said anything about being from Kansas. Either Billy was surprisingly knowledgeable about Lois Lane’s husband, or…What? He was a mind reader? Had a real knack for accents? 

Was actually Captain Marvel?

“Hey, so I’ve been wondering something,” said Billy, very decisively.

“What’s that?” asked Clark.

“If they think us going to the bathroom is boring, then what was with making us pee in a hole? Like, they deliberately took away our other liquids.”

Actually a decent question. Tim really hoped it wasn’t that the Tantalan’s really did find human’s peeing highly entertaining and were lying about not spying on them in the bathroom.

Clark looked pensive. “I mean, they told us straight out they’re judging us,” he said, considering. “A lot of what we did today involved physical and mental gymnastics, but at the end, they gave us a very simple moral dilemma. To save ourselves, or save the hostages.”

“So, you’re suggesting, what? The pingpong ball test was about choosing to embarrass ourselves to get the chance to save strangers?” asked Tim. “Volunteer to do it, so the others wouldn’t have to?” 

“In that case, I guess I failed,” said Billy.

“No,” Clark and Tim said together.

“That was very much not your responsibility, and I’m glad you asked me, instead,” said Clark. “Although… ‘ask’ is a strong word in this case.”

Billy ducked his head.

“I wonder if they knew there would be children involved when they came up with these challenges,” Clark wondered.

“I mean, for all we know, they don’t have the concepts for why that was inappropriate,” said Tim.

Clark shook his head. “I’m having a hard time getting into their perspectives. This is all absurd. Obscene. Whatever their motives, or whatever they believe about our potential, or whatever…To bring you boys into this…”

“Not exactly excusable to bring you into this, either,” said Billy. “They should be minding their business.”

Clark sighed. “At least I’m an adult, though,” he said. “I meant what I said, earlier, though I was interrupted by a young man with a certain way with words. I will do everything in my power to make sure you boys get through this in one piece.”

“Just wait,” said Danny, now in the doorway to the bedroom. “I’m thinking it’ll be us getting you through this in one piece.”

“Well,” Clark said with a smile. “I did also say that we’d be relying upon each other.”

“What is this, a restaurant?” asked Danny, seeming to notice the variety on the table.

“At the very least, they’ve got a decent selection for us.”

“And we’re hoping it’s safe,” said Danny. 

“Just hoping they don’t find food poisoning entertaining,” said Billy.

“Let’s not put ideas in their heads,” said Tim.

Then they all watched in horror as Danny got himself a big slice of pepperoni pizza, drenched it in ranch dressing, and then topped it with macaroni salad.

“What were we just saying about food poisoning?” asked Billy.

“Shut up, it’s good,” said Danny around a big mouthful. 

“We’ll take your word for it,” said Tim.

“There’s more where this came from,” said Danny. “You could find out for yourself.”

“Pass,” said Tim.

Billy stuck out a tongue covered in macaroni and cheese.

“So, that pee thing was weird, right?” said Danny.

“Yeah,” said Clark, “we were just talking about that. Although I do also recall an agreement to never speak of it again.” 

“Okay,” Danny said. “But it wasn’t supposed to be blood, right? Like, was it supposed to be, like, you’re supposed to weaken yourself to get through?”

“I’m not sure we have a good enough read on them right now,” Clark said.

Danny looked pensive. 

“Also, #yeetthebaby is trending, now,” said Tim, showing Danny the gif.

Danny snorted. “Nice.”

Billy hummed loudly, breathing out through his nose.

Danny swallowed way too much food. “So, are they saying anything on your feed about the hostages? Did they get back okay?”

“They’re fine,” said Billy.

“Man, a guy can’t brood for ten minutes without you guys talking about everything without me,” said Danny.

“Snooze you lose,” said Billy.

“So, Billy,” Clark said carefully. “I realized you never mentioned. Is there anyone back home cheering you on?”

With a sigh, Billy said, “Nah.”

“You’ve been on your own?” asked Clark.

“I take care of myself,” said Billy.

“That can’t be easy,” said Tim.

“Course it isn’t,” said Billy. “It’s still better than…”

“Better than?” asked Clark.

“Never mind,” said Billy. “I’m getting dessert.”

“You never finished your salad,” said Clark.

“You’re not my real dad,” said Billy, without any heat, but also without humor, making his way to the kitchen. 

“Can I ask about your father?” asked Clark.

“Nope,” said Billy.

The three of them shared uncomfortable looks as Billy rummaged through the refrigerator. Danny huffed a breath.

“Family’s complicated,” he said.

Yeah, it probably was when you were diametrically opposed to your parents’ life work and thought what they were doing was monstrous. And, what? He was in some kind of lab accident because of them? Had been experimented on by them? Been slowly exposed to exotic chemicals and radiation his whole life?

Billy came back with an ice cream bar and a can of whipped cream.

“So,” he said, dispensing a dollop of whipped cream onto the end of the ice cream bar before taking a bite. “What’s the plan?”

Tim grimaced. “It’s hard to have a plan when we don’t know what’s coming. Or where we are. Or what all reality bending abilities this god has. We could bust out of here somehow, and find out we’re all the way across the universe.”

“I already told you,” said Clark. “We have each other’s backs. That’s the plan. We’re going to take care of each other, and take what comes as a team. Excepting, of course, that I’m the adult, and if there’s something that you boys reasonably shouldn’t be expected to do, then I’m going to try to do it for you.”

Tim hoped Clark didn’t actually expect them to sit back and be chaperoned by him through this whole thing.

“You’re going to pee in all of the holes,” said Danny with a straight face.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” said Clark. “But, also, yes.”

“And if that’s too much for you, and you need to rely on us back?” Billy asked, his tone even, though the effect was softened by the whoosh of him dispensing more whipped cream onto his ice cream bar.

“Like I said, we’ll be relying on each other,” said Clark. “It’s just, I fully expect there to be times when I will need to be the adult in the room, and I want you to let me be.”

“Do you really think they’ll always let you be?” asked Danny.

“No,” Clark said, not mincing any words. “I really don’t. But, when I can, I will.”

“There’s only one adult I need,” said Billy, “and you’re not them.”

The elusive father? The unmentioned mother? Or someone else entirely.

“Okay,” said Clark. “But, Billy, right now, I’m the one who’s here.”

Billy stood up suddenly. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE-!” He cut himself off. “I’m taking some alone time,” he declared, storming to the bedroom and slamming the door.

Clark let out a breath.

“He really shouldn’t be here,” Danny said after a moment, his gaze on the half-eaten ice cream bar on the table.

“And you should?” Tim asked wearily.

Danny shrugged.

“Are you doing okay, Clark?” Tim asked.

“Ah, well,” he said. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

Tim huffed a quiet laugh. He wished he could pick the man’s brain. Had Clark noticed anything about the other boys with his senses? Had he heard any alerts from his JL communicator? Tim hadn’t dared take his own out. How were they supposed to get through this without being able to say any of the important things out loud? Tim wasn’t even sure if he could get away with subvocalizing things for Clark to hear, without it being picked up and amplified for the audience by Antantlous.

As ridiculous as the whole situation was, it was bleak, and Tim didn’t know if there was any way out but through.

“This is Jasmine Fenton.”

“This is the Justice League, and you’re on video.”

The girl pulled her phone away from her face and propped it on a stand, before seeming to resume packing a bag.

“Have you found my brother?” she asked, not at all flustered to be confronted with the assembled heroes. “And the rest of the abductees, of course, but you wouldn’t be calling me about them.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wonder Woman, “but please know we’re doing everything we can to find them.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but please excuse us if we make our own efforts to bring my brother and the other abductees home.” 

“You and your parents?” Bruce asked, already alarmed.

The girl paused.

“Yes, they’re working on a rescue as well,” she said without an ounce of faith. “Though, perhaps ‘rescue’ is the wrong word. At any rate, I’m assuming you did not call to offer me platitudes.”

She placed what gave every appearance of being some manner of ray gun in her bag.

“We wouldn’t want to work at odds with you,” Wonder Woman said carefully. “What is your plan of action?”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll be crossing paths,” said Jasmine. “I’m assuming you actually called me because you couldn’t reach my parents?” She abandoned her packing. “I’ll pass you off to them.”

She seemed to make her way out of the room and down to a lower floor, holding the phone in her limp arm so the view swayed about as she walked.

“Is there anything you can tell us about your brother?” asked Flash. “Why he might have been taken?”

“I can’t fathom the thought processes of a purely alien being, like this so-called god, without much more detailed information,” said Jasmine. “But Danny is a perfectly ordinary teenaged boy who still leaves his dirty underwear in the bathroom.”

She went through what looked like blast doors from off the kitchen, and started making her way down to a basement laboratory.  

“Is that the ghost portal?” Constantine asked through gritted teeth.

“It sure is,” said Jasmine. “Maybe you’d like to do something about it, when this is all over.”

Another of the Fenton children who did not approve of their parents’ work. 

Jasmine held her phone up, facing away from her, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, giving them a much better view. The Doctors Fenton were at different lab tables, Jack Fenton working on some manner of electrical engineering, and Madeline Fenton engrossed with an equation on a large white board.

Jasmine shoved the phone in front of her mother’s face.

“The Justice League would like to speak with you,” Jasmine said, without much patience. “I’d imagine they’ve been trying to call you for a while, now.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Jasmine, dear,” said Dr. Fenton airily. “The Justice League doesn’t have a hope of rescuing your brother, when they already have a dirty ghost on their team, and no anti-ghost technology. You leave it to your father and I.”

“For once in our lives, Mom, this isn’t a ghost problem. It’s an alien problem.”

“I’m sure that’s what it would like you to think, dear,” said Dr. Fenton. 

“We really would like a few minutes of your time,” said Diana, diplomatically glossing over the slight to Deadman. 

“Well, if you’d like us to come up and take care of your infestation up there, we’d be happy to. After we’ve taken care of the overgrown excuse for post-life trouble up in the sky, and brought our baby home, of course.”

Jasmine sighed loudly.

“Perhaps you may have some insight into why your son was taken?” asked Diana, giving away none of the chill air from their conference room.

“Well, he’s a Fenton,” said Dr. Madeline Fenton. “It wouldn’t be the first time one of us has been targeted by ghosts.” She made a notation. “Jack, dear, it looks like we’re going to need to go up a couple of gauges.”

“Right you are, Maddie dear!”

“Would you consider your son particularly dangerous to ghosts?” asked Bruce, pushing through.

“Oh, once he gets his head on straight, and applies himself. Right now, he’s more dangerous to humanity, what with the ridiculous things he was spouting on global television.”

“Ah, don’t be too hard on him, Mads,” said Dr. Jack Fenton, not turning away from his work station. “Teenagers and their little rebellions. It’s all that Phantom’s fault, brainwashing the youths.”

“Oh, if we ever get our hands on him again,” said Dr. Madeline Fenton, her voice verging on hateful. 

“What do you mean, again?!” asked Jasmine, the calm, collected, and impatient veneer she had been shrouded in shattering. 

She was hardly the only one to have caught onto the implication. The assembled heroes around Bruce were sharing uneasy glances.

“Oh, I know you don’t like to hear about when we catch ghosts, dear,” said Dr. Madeline Fenton.

“We almost got it down to its core!” Dr. Jack crowed. “Before it showed a new breath attack, and escaped.”

The phone clattered to the floor.

“Just wait until we make a dissection table even Phantom can’t escape from,” the doctor went on.

“Or spring a ghost from,” said Dr. Madeline Fenton. “We can strip them all down to nothing, molecule by molecule, then. But Jack, you know Jazz doesn’t like to hear about all that.”

“Sorry, Jazzy Pants,” said Dr. Jack Fenton. “Some people just don’t like to hear about how the sausage is made.”

“I- I have to go,” said Jasmine.  

“I’m afraid you’ll be taking care of yourself for a little while, dear,” said Dr. Madeline Fenton. “Your father and I are going to be busy until this is all over. But you head off to bed, now.”

“Okay.”

She was scrambling for her phone on the ground. Her hands were shaking. Once she had it, she nearly fled out of the lab and into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Bruce was not sure she realized she was still on with them.

“Miss Fenton,” said Bruce, “when your brother returns, will he be safe at home?”

“I…I need to go,” she said. “I need to make sure he’s okay.”

She hung up the phone, and the screen went blank.

…

“Well, that just happened,” said Green Arrow.

“His parents want to take him apart molecule by molecule?”

“Again…”

Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised them that there was actually a fairly comprehensive entertainment system in their dormitory, complete with a large screen television, every streaming service imaginable (minus social sites like YouTube), multiple gaming systems with a library of games to choose from, a closet full of board games, and a few bookshelves full of books for different ages. Danny was still exploring the streaming library when Billy came back out and, upon learning Billy had never watched Avatar: The Last Airbender, had demanded they start binge watching it immediately. They were only a couple of episodes in, though, when it became clear that the boys were all beat, and ready for bed. Clark suggested as much.

“I think I’ll sleep on the couch,” said Billy.

“Actually,” said Clark. “I was going to suggest that I take the couch. It would, well, be more appropriate.”

“Oh,” said Billy. “Yeah, um, that works, I guess.”

“I promise I don’t snore,” said Danny.

“I’ve literally had training in the art of not snoring,” said Tim.

Yeah, and Clark bet that Bruce had espoused the tactical benefits of it, and that Dick had called it Bat-Anti-Snoring Training.

“Well, that’s a new weird rich people thing I learned about, today,” said Billy.

Danny snickered.

“Yeah, well, let’s get ready for bed,” said Tim.

 It was around this time they noticed the wardrobes beside the beds had pajamas and clothes for them.

“These are the pajamas I wear at home,” said Danny, holding up a space themed pair. “Also, why are all these outfits just duplicates of the one I’m already wearing?”

“Yeah, what are we? Cartoon characters?” asked Tim.

“They’re a little too duplicated,” Billy grit out, holding up a red sweater that was just as stained, dirty, and beat up as the one he was already wearing. “Also, I don’t own any pajamas.” 

And the Tantalans had apparently not taken it upon themselves to provide him with any.

“Tim, Danny, could you boys help Billy out?”

“Sure,” said Tim. “I think I’m a little closer to you in size, so you can have a pair of my pajamas. But I think you might be more comfortable borrowing other clothes from Danny. Though, my suit is actually very comfortable and durable.” 

“I’ll hook you up,” said Danny. “You don’t have to dress like a nerd.”

“I think you mean styling,” said Tim.

Danny and Billy both hummed doubtfully.

Billy showered, and the rest of them brushed their teeth in the kitchen, before Danny and Tim went to change.

They had only been gone a minute when Clark heard Danny shout.

“Dude, get out of here!”

He rushed to the door.

Tim was efficiently buttoning up a pajama shirt, while Danny clutched a t-shirt against his chest. Billy, looking spitting mad, hair dripping, had his head poking out of the bathroom, but he ducked back and closed the door after making eye contact with Clark. Meanwhile, the Interviewer was standing too close to Danny.

“But those are such interesting scars. The both of you actually,” they said, turning to look at Tim. “Wouldn’t you like to discuss them? Scars can tell such wonderful stories.”

Clark resisted the urge to use his x-ray vision to peek. From what was plainly visible, Danny did have some significant scars to his upper arms and on either side of his chest from what looked to be linear incisions, and there certainly was a thought that they could be relevant or need further investigation. But Clark had already been somewhat liberal with his use of x-ray vision, today, including with both Danny and Billy. He’d been careful in his use of it, though, and had seen no reason to do any sort of skin check. Frankly, the boys deserved to be able to hold onto whatever privacy they were able to at this point.

“Earth has taboos about entering another person’s bedroom without permission,” Clark said evenly.

“Oh, that’s fine,” said the Interviewer. “Everything here belongs to Antantlous, and I have their blessing.”

“That’s not how it works,” Danny said through gritted teeth.

“It is also taboo to violate privacy by entering a room where someone is changing,” Tim said with faux pleasantry.

“Especially when they are a child,” said Clark.

“Perhaps typically,” said the Interviewer. “I would say that’s rather superseded by your status as our contestants. Why, there are billions of people just dying to learn everything about you! After all, their own lives may be on the line.”

“We’re still not commenting on our scars,” said Danny, who had yet to regain his composure. 

“Agreed,” said Tim.

“Oh, boo,” they said. “Well, we’ll get you talking eventually!”

With that, they disappeared.

Danny pushed out a harsh breath through his nose, clearly still upset. He probably didn’t want Clark sticking around, though.

“Tim, could you knock on the door, see if Billy’s doing okay in there?”

“I can do that,” said Tim.

“I’ll be in the living room,” said Clark. Which, where else would he be?

His parting words had been something of an invitation, and Danny took him up on it, once he was done changing. He still looked upset when he came to sit on the couch with Clark, and Clark considered he had ample reason to be, after everything he had been through that day.

“I’m sorry that happened, just now,” said Clark.

“They’re really just going to do whatever they want with us, whenever they want,” said Danny.

“For the time being,” Clark agreed.

“Do you think the Justice League can take this guy?” Danny asked.

And, Clark had to consider that Danny almost certainly suspected Clark was Superman. Even if he hadn’t cottoned on to Clark using x-ray vision to navigate the maze, today, he had to have noticed Clark’s super strength when it had gone up against Danny’s own, however briefly. So, Danny was not asking a lay person, he was asking Superman. And, if Clark was not much mistaken, he was asking if the four of them could take Antantlous.

“I think, at this point, they probably don’t know how,” said Clark, trying to be mindful of not giving the appearance that they were having a hidden conversation underneath their plain words. “It was two days, that countdown floating in the sky. People saw different Justice League members flying up to the numbers to investigate. They still weren’t able to stop this from happening. At the very least, they haven’t been able to find us, yet. I mean, where even are we?”

He hoped Danny understood that this was likely not a problem they could brute force their way through. Even if Danny had super strength, intangibility, and flight; even if Billy actually was Captain Marvel. Whether or not Clark, Danny, or Billy could punch Antantlous into submission, they would have to get to him first. And, with this instantaneous teleportation ability, they would have to use super speed to pull it off. Except, there was a limit to how fast they could move in an atmosphere, if they did not want to destroy everything, and everyone, in the vicinity. Maybe Antantlous could be punched into submission, but it would come at a very high price of Tim, the spectators in the stands, and any hostages present at the time. He wasn’t even sure if that was Antantlous, there physically, or if it was just a projection in its own right, or if they could punch through the barrier between the arena and the spectators area atop which Antantlous sat.

It was not as though Clark had never faced any powerfully magical foes. He had gotten the better of Mister Mxyzptlk on a number of occasions, but never through violence. Mister Mxyzptlk was a foe that could only be tricked and warded off. Clark didn’t know nearly enough about this Antantlous to know how he might be tricked or manipulated into letting them go. If Captain Marvel was just in the other room, then it was clear he didn’t know how to combat this deity, either.

He wished he could say as much to Danny. He wished they could make a real plan. Maybe Danny had sufficient strength and sufficient super speed and intangibility which would allow him to ignore the atmosphere, but Clark had no way of knowing, at this point, and Danny clearly had no intention of revealing his secrets either, just as Clark had no intention of revealing his own.

He didn’t know if he would be able to get through this with his secret identity intact. For all he knew, it was inevitable he would be revealed to the entirety of the people of Earth. Perhaps not. But he needed to give his family every opportunity to not have their lives imploded. To say nothing of just how integral it was to Clark to have his civilian identity.

Perhaps as important as it was to Danny, Tim, and Billy.

He hadn’t been lying, earlier, when he had said he would do whatever it took to get the boys through this. If it came down to it…

He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

“Hey, so your newspaper has interviewed Superman before, right?” said Danny in a sudden pivot.

“It has,” said Clark. “Actually, Lois was the first one to get an interview with him.”

“Oh, huh,” said Danny, and Clark could only wonder at what Danny might think about that. “So, I was wondering if you had an idea of, like, if someone like Superman would sic the GIW on a ghost.”

“No, I think Superman has a good record of respecting sentient life,” said Clark.

Danny nodded. 

“Plus, the Justice League has a ghost on its roster, doesn't it?” said Clark.

“Hm, well, Deadman’s empowered by a Hindu god, so he’s not exactly a regular ghost. I’ve wondered if he might be considered like, a special case, or something.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly common knowledge. Oh, perhaps it was natural for a family of ghost researchers to have figured out that Deadman was different from other ghosts, but the providence of that difference? Clark had no idea how Danny may have learned that. 

“You know, I’ve covered a fair bit about the Justice League,” said Clark. “They’re always on the side of giving beings the benefit of the doubt, when it comes to the basic rights any sentient being should have.”

“Huh,” said Danny. “That’s good to know, I guess. Maybe they could do something about the GIW, then.”

“I wonder if they even knew about it, before today,” said Clark. “I mean, I’ve certainly never heard of it, and it’s the sort of thing that I’d usually know about. A government agency hunting ghosts?”

“They’ve always seemed to act with impunity in Amity Park,” said Danny. “It’s hard to think of them being off the radar outside of it.”

“Are you sure they’re a government agency?” asked Clark.

“I mean, the law’s on the books,” said Danny.

“Since when, though?” asked Clark.

“I’ve got some answers about the Ghost Investigation Ward and the law behind them,” Oracle announced.

“That’s good,” said Constantine. “We’ll need to figure all that out before the nitwits provoke a war with the Infinite Realms.”

“What can you tell us?” asked Bruce.

“First of all, I think we’re going to need Cyborg to get through their firewalls. I don’t know how they got their hands on it, but they seem to have a very powerful AI that’s been able to keep me out so far. It also seems to be what has been causing something of a media blackout from Amity Park.”

“Going to be a minute before I can give it my attention,” said Cyborg.

“Can you tell us where they came from?” asked Bruce.

“That’s the thing. They’ve been hiding in plain sight for a long time. You know those silly old laws that never got taken off the books? Like in Boston it’s technically still illegal to play the fiddle, or in Arizona, Donkey’s can’t sleep in bathtubs?”

Oh.

Bruce had assumed this was a much more recent problem.

“Well, back in the 1880s, there was quite a moral panic about seances, and the Federal Government actually passed a law making ghosts illegal and creating a small anti-ghost commission, which was supposed to combat occultism and seances. Just, they never had any teeth. They were mainly supposed to exist in an advisory capacity, and their budget has always been negligible. Over the years, they’ve very much faded into obscurity, but they remain on the books, and they remain a line item in the federal budget. Most importantly, though, they have the authority to define what a ghost is.”

Bruce understood. “So, if they declare that a ghost is non-sentient and non-sapient, then ghosts, by default, do not qualify under the expanded Meta Protection Acts.”

“And they get to decide what is and is not a ghost,” Constantine growled.

“Exactly, and if Danny is a ‘halfa’, then he would absolutely qualify as a ghost under the Ghost Investigation Ward’s definition. He could be remanded into their custody for experimentation and extermination. In fact, I would suspect…”

“What?”

“That the Red Hood would likely qualify as well. Perhaps one or more Justice League members who have died and come back to life, in addition to Deadman.”

Bruce’s fist clenched tightly under the table.

“You said their budget is negligible,” said Bruce.

“It’s clear they have a secondary revenue stream,” said Barbara. “They have access to a lot of advanced tech. It’s not just the AI.” 

She pushed a grainy image onto the main screen, showing agents in white riding on what appeared to be hover sleds.

“Whelp, they’ve just become a much more pressing problem,” said Flash.

“They’ve been hiding in the shadows for a long time,” said Diana. “There is a reason they never came after Deadman. Likewise, though, there is a reason for them to have become bold in Amity Park. I would like to know what their agenda is, because I do not think it is so simple as being against the occult.”

Whatever their agenda, they would need to be neutralized as expediently as possible. For Jason. For Deadman. For a boy who had likely already been medically tortured by his own parents. For an entire race of sentient beings, and anyone else the Ghost Investigation Ward could justify classifying as a ghost.

“I am raising their priority level,” said Bruce. “Second only to ending the broadcast and bringing our people home. We’re taking them down.”

The moment her parents had taken off in the ops center to go ‘implode the ghost in the sky’, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam had left to the Ghost Zone in the Specter Speeder. 

“Jazz, you’re worrying us. What’s up?” Sam asked after an hour into their ride.

“I’m just worried about Danny,” she said, not at all wanting to talk about it.

“We’ve seen you worried about Danny,” said Tucker. “There’s been plenty of times he’s gone off on his own to face some big bad, and we’ve seen how you worry about him then. This isn’t that.”

“This situation isn’t like those situations,” she said. “You’re projecting, anyway.”

“And you’re hiding something,” said Sam.

“Nope,” said Jazz. “Anyway. We’re almost there.”

The Far Frozen looked as frigid and inhospitable as ever, but at least Frostbite was quick to roll out the red carpet. 

“Friends and family of the Great One!” he boomed enthusiastically. “How may the Far Frozen help the Great One, today?”

There was a rush to explain it to him, and Jazz got to watch as his joyful expression became pensive and troubled.

“We were hoping to use the Infini-Map to go find him, and bring him home,” said Tucker, shivering even under his bulky parka.

“And what would stop the entertainment god from taking him right back?” asked Frostbite. 

“Well, we’ll figure something out,” said Sam.

Frostbite shook his head. “At the very least, I do not believe this is a place the Infini-Map could actually take you.”

“You know about this guy?” asked Tucker.

“A god that has cults across dozens of worlds? It is hard to avoid their reputation when you have existed for as long as I have. And with all of that diverse worship, they have grown incredibly powerful. More powerful than the Great One, as he currently is.”

“Danny’s mentioned an Ancient Master of Exploration,” said Jazz. “Sojourn. Maybe he could help find them.”

“Perhaps,” said Frostbite. “You certainly would need the Infini-Map to find Sojourn. But have you listened to nothing I have said? This is not a fight you can help the Great One with.”

“Are you forgetting that your Great One is my little brother?” Jazz demanded. “He needs me!”

“The Great One does rely upon your support,” said Frostbite. “Which is exactly why I will not help send you to your doom. No matter how unlikely you are to find him.”

“We have to do something!” said Sam.

“I believe the Great One has what he needs to triumph in this situation,” said Frostbite.

“You just said that god’s more powerful than him!” said Tucker.

“The Great One has yet to meet his full potential,” said Frostbite. “I believe he has what he needs to meet this challenge, though.”

It was hard to take that on any kind of faith. Her brother was still just a teenaged boy who left his dirty underwear on the floor.

“I guess we’ll just have to find someone else who can help us,” said Sam.

“The Infinite Realms are not safe for humans on their own,” said Frostbite.

“We’re not staying home safe and sound while Danny’s in danger,” said Jazz.

Frostbite seemed pensive a moment, before nodding his head.

“Where are you going next?” he asked.

“Clockwork should be a good plan B,” said Tucker.

Frostbite gave a little grimace, seeming to regret his earlier resolve. But still, he said, “Then I will escort you there.”

“Can we take the Infini-Map?” asked Tucker.

“The Infini-Map stays here,” said Frostbite.

The better to slow them down, most likely.

The first nightmare that night was Danny’s, and Clark walked quietly into the room to wake him up.

The boy was squirming, flat on his back, and he kept slurring the words ‘I’m human,’ with a kind of despair that was hard for Clark to hear.

“You are human,” Clark murmured, gently tapping Danny on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Danny.”

Danny curled protectively around himself as he awoke.

“You’re okay, Danny,” said Clark. “You’re here with Tim, Billy, and me. You were having a bad dream.”

“Oh,” said Danny. 

He curled further, wrapping his arms around his head. Whether out of embarrassment or something more profound, Clark wasn’t sure. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Danny shook his head. After a moment, he said, “We should both go back to sleep. Probably need to be on our A games, tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m a pretty light sleeper,” said Clark. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Kay,” said Danny.

Clark didn’t want to just leave him alone. The kid very much looked like he needed a hug. But, Clark had just met the kid. He was hardly in a position to take the liberty of just scooping the kid up like he was Jon and holding him until he had actually calmed down.

“Sleep well, Danny,” was all he said.

“You, too,” said Danny.

His resolve about respecting the kids’ privacy did not quite extend far enough for him to not keep an ear out until Danny fell into an uneasy sleep.

The second nightmare was Billy’s, with a wordless whimpering.

Clark slipped quietly back into the room to wake him, even more mindful with Billy than he had been with Danny, of not freaking him out by being a strange man hovering over his bed. He stood more to the side, and tapped on the mattress as he called softly to Billy that he was having a bad dream.

It wasn’t enough, though, and the moment Billy noticed Clark, he was scrambling away until he was off the bed and huddled in the corner.

“What are you doing in here?!” he demanded, his chest heaving.

“You were having a nightmare,” said Clark, holding his hands out peaceably, aware of Danny and Tim waking up behind him.

“Get out of here!” Billy shouted at him.

“I’m sorry, Billy,” said Clark, backing towards the door. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Just…just go,” said Billy, his voice much smaller, sounding more mortified than afraid.

“Okay, Billy,” said Clark, turning fully to the door. “I’ll be out there if anyone needs anything.”

He sighed heavily once the door was closed behind him. 

What Billy needed was a loving home and a good therapist. What he had instead was this bizarre imprisonment and Clark.

“Are you okay, Billy?” Clark heard Danny ask from the other room.

“I’m fine,” was Billy’s reply, entirely defensive.

“I’m pretty sure Clark was just trying to help,” said Tim.

“Obviously,” said Billy. “Yeah. I’m just…”

Clark heard Billy close himself off in the bathroom. 

Yeah, they were all so very fine.

Chapter Text

Their awakening the next morning was downright rude and invasive; it definitely started them off with a shot of adrenaline. One moment, Billy was asleep in the bathtub in the pajamas Tim had given him and Billy had reluctantly put on. The next, he was strapped into a seat, elsewhere, in his own clothes, not the outfit Danny had given him the night before, and it was loud.

Speaking of Danny, the older boy flailed about in his own seat from the start he’d gotten.

“What the-!” Danny cut himself off to stare around their surroundings, his eyes dilated wide.

They were in a military style helicopter, the doors wide open on either side, coming in for a landing near a beach, with a lot of palm trees.

“Alright, contestants! Once we land, we’ve got ten minutes until you’re up, so make good use of kraft services until then, use the bathroom, make sure you’re ready,” shouted a Tantalan, the same one who had introduced them to their dormitory last night, CAN4.

“Where exactly are we?” asked Clark. They all had those earmuff headphones on with microphones so they could all hear each other over the rotor blades, but it was still a challenge. “What are we doing today?”

“Now that would be telling,” said CAN4, disappearing.

“A helicopter landing, and a tropical beach?” Danny asked rhetorically. “This is the Fiji Survivor compound.” 

“Survivor compound?” asked Billy.

“From the reality TV show,” said Danny. “Hey, that means we’re on Earth!”

Clark was frowning, though, as he looked off into the distance, over the water, as the helicopter was making contact with the ground. “Look closely at the horizon,” he said after a moment, probably after making sure it was something a normal human eye could see.

It took Billy a moment to realize what Clark was getting at. The horizon looked…blurry? Maybe like it was disintegrating. It was also too close. They should have been able to see out for miles, but here the horizon looked like something Billy could swim to.

Well, not Billy. Tim could probably do it.

As the rotors were winding down, they all were quick to get out of their restraints and jump out the open doors onto hard ground. Quick to take in their surroundings.

“Wherever we are,” said Tim, “we should definitely eat while we have the chance.”

Yeah, Billy wasn’t going to turn down a free meal, no matter how much he wanted to storm off and say to hell with Antantlous’s production schedule. Meanwhile, just a short walk away, there was actually a decent looking spread on the breakfast table, housed under an open tropical pergola. Billy got himself a big Belgian waffle and put a couple sunny side up eggs on top, before drenching it in syrup. 

“Do give yourselves time to use the restroom,” said Clark.

“Yeah, you don’t want to pee your pants on TV,” said Billy.

“Or find out the Tantalan’s think peeing on a tree is entertaining,” Danny said sourly.

So, breakfast was a rushed affair, and so was their time in the nearby bathroom. By the time the flash of white light relocated them to a small amphitheater, Danny was still zipping himself back up, something he looked very aggrieved about.

“Welcome, contestants, to Survivor!” a whole new Tantalan cleric pronounced, Cleric Asshole Number 5.

“Now that’s a trademark infringement,” said Tim.

“I am your Cleric Game Master,” CAN5 went on as though Tim had not interrupted. “Across the upcoming week, you will be competing with each other for a very important boon, before your next upcoming trial.”

They were sitting on the amphitheater steps, facing CAN5, who was standing on the small stage.

“And what’s that boon?” asked Clark.

“Whoever wins,” said CAN5, “will have their home city be immune from the next challenge.”

The four of them started exchanging glances. That was actually something that could get them to compete against each other. Billy, Clark, and Tim, at least, had put their blood, sweat, and tears, into protecting their home towns before all others. Billy was suspecting the same was true of Danny. All that to say nothing of plain hometown pride.

“So I know who to worry about,” said Clark, grim, “Smallville or Metropolis?”

“How about you choose?” asked CAN5, who was perhaps trying to get into the running for #1 Asshole.

From the look on Clark’s face, he did not appreciate being put in that position, though he probably shouldn’t have asked in the first place.

“Metropolis,” he bit out.

And, yeah, that made sense, even if just from a population standpoint.

“Clark, Billy, to start out with, you will be on the yellow team,” said CAN5, holding up a yellow bandana. “Danny, Tim, you will be on the green team.”

Billy had thought they were all competing individually?

Clark and Tim, perhaps not wanting to test the patience of the cleric so soon in the day, went and collected the team bandanas. Clark tied his around his forehead, and Billy, perhaps just to be contrary, put his around his arm, using his teeth to finish tying it off. It was a minute later, though, he was undoing it all over again, to take off his sweater and put Tim’s vest on once more. He decided to ditch his sweater, seeing as it was getting pretty warm. Danny accepted Tim’s jacket with a wry smile.

“You know, I don’t think anyone ever gets stabbed or shot, on Survivor,” he said.

“Let’s not put it to the test,” said Tim. “Also, we don’t know if this will be a typical episode of survivor.”

Was Billy the only one who didn’t know what was going on?

“Alright, contestants, let’s make our way to our first challenge,” said CAN5. 

For a change, they were not teleported away, and were instead led down a path through the jungle foliage. Was this the first challenge? It seemed to go on for way too long. The path was rough, Billy’s shoes were getting small on him and falling apart, it was hot. He was wearing an extra vest. 

For a change, Billy would have taken the teleportation.

Danny kept up a running commentary as they went, explaining the basics of Survivor to Billy. Apparently, Billy could expect challenges to get ‘immunity’ from the next elimination or other rewards. 

 It turned out, though, teleportation wasn’t off the table, because one minute Billy was walking along, and the next he was sitting in some room, with kitschy tropical decorations, and soft lighting.

“So, Billy, it’s time for your first confessional,” said CAN3, the interviewer.

“Confessional?” asked Billy. The heck was this?

“How are you feeling about the game, so far?” they asked.

“Uhhh,” said Billy. “I wanna go home?” said Billy.

“So you’d like to abandon your home town to be involved in the next challenge?”

“What? No!” said Billy.

“Do you have a home?” asked CAN3.

“I’ve got a place I stay,” said Billy, a little too defensively. He took a breath. Maybe it was time to stop being defensive, and put on the charm. These guys wanted entertainment, right? Maybe if Billy was entertaining enough, it would keep attention off the others. So far, Billy didn’t trust Danny to keep himself out of trouble. “You know, I get by, okay. I hope everyone hasn’t been worrying about me.”

“Oh, I think it’s hard for them not to,” said CAN3. “Little children shouldn’t be alone in the world.”

Shouldn’t little children not be in the situation the Tantalan’s had put Billy in?

“Well, maybe I’ll show them what I’m capable of,” said Billy.

“That’s the spirit!” said CAN3. “Now, what can you tell me about your competitors.”

“Oh, I don’t really think of them as competitors,” said Billy. “I think we’re all going to be friends, by the end of this, whatever happens.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” said CAN3. “Would you say you’re in Survivor to win it?”

“Well, I absolutely do intend to win,” said Billy. 

“Is there anyone in Fawcett you’re hoping to win this for?” asked CAN3.

“Well sure!” said Billy. “There’s my social worker, some of my old foster parents, some old friends, even the nice lady I sell scrap metal to.”

No harm in revealing that, since he probably wasn’t going back to that hustle.

“So, what are you willing to do, this week, to keep them safe?” 

Wow, Billy really wanted to throw something at them. Hey, are you willing to stab your fellow kidnapped new friends in the back to keep us from taking your whole city hostage?

“Well, for right now, Clark and I are just going to have to beat Danny and Tim,” Billy said with what he thought was a pretty good impish grin.

“Well, I’ll have to wish you good luck.”

“You’ll root for me?” asked Billy.

Was that too much?

“Well, I have to stay impartial,” said CAN3, “so I won’t be doing it out loud.” They gave him a wink, and Billy made himself smile at it.

Another flash of light, and Billy was back on the path.

“Billy, are you okay?” asked Clark. The group pausing to look him over.

“Oh, yeah,” said Billy. “I had to do some sort of-”

Tim disappeared.

“Confessional,” said Billy. “I didn’t confess to anything?”

Reluctantly, they kept walking without Tim.

“That’s just what they call it,” said Danny. “You’re supposed to do stuff like share what you really think about your fellow contestants, or how you’re actually going to stab so-and-so in the back, and stuff,” said Danny. 

“Let’s remember we never signed up to be reality TV stars,” said Clark, "and there’s no need to come across as…as…catty, or ruthless, or…interesting. We’re going to be going back to our normal lives after this, and we don’t need people thinking of us a certain way because we tried to play a character.”

“You hope we’ll go back to our normal lives after this,” said Danny. 

Billy and Clark didn’t really have anything to say to that.

“Sorry,” said Danny.

“I plan to hold onto hope,” said Clark. “I hope you boys will, too.”

Of course he did. Not that Billy didn’t mean to, either. 

“Oh, also,” said Danny. “They call it a confessional, like you’re in with a priest, or something, but sometimes they tell you what the other contestants said about you in their confessionals.”

“Trying to make trouble,” said Clark.

“So, I shouldn’t have said all those things about you?” Billy asked with a grin.

“Just wait, Billy, I’ll have lots to say about you,” said Danny.

“Before you boys start teasing each other with what you might say about each other in confessional,” said Clark, “just remember they can clip anything you say out of context.”

“Only if it’s entertaining,” said CAN5, still in the lead, and souring the mood more than Clark had.

“That’s not reassuring,” said Danny.

(Podcast)

“This- this… alien entity, comes to Earth looking to make a spectacle. A spectacle of Earth. Telling the whole universe that that little street kid is the best we’ve got-

…

(Youtube)

“…taking these factors in mind, we can assume that it would have taken over three and a half hours for them to have completed the maze using the ‘left-hand trick’, four and a quarter hours, if they had instead used their right hand. The abductees, however, did not use this method to clear the maze. They used Clark Kent’s intuition, which didn’t see them making any wrong turns. We’ll calculate the odds of that happening randomly, and the odds using different maze strategies, but first, let’s consider the time a lay person would have taken to get through the maze. Given all the assumptions we made above, let’s return to the overlay map of the maze, and start to count the different vertices, so we can begin to calculate the average time it may have taken them to complete the maze, given random choice at each vector. Spoiler alert, it’s a lot longer than two hours.”

…

(Twitch stream)

“One-percenter, CEO, nepo-baby, yeah, obviously he’s one of the most dangerous people on the planet.”

“Okay, and how are you going to convince me a homeless ten year old-”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven-year-old is dangerous.”

“Meta’s are a thing, dude.”

“And we’re going to let this freak from the stars tell us what’s what?”

…

(Tumblr)

penrosesteppingonmyface

Okay, but when Clark was trying to promise the boys he’d take care of them if they stayed, and Billy was just like

<Image description: Get in Loser Meme with top text: Get in loser; and bottom text: We’re saving the day.>

Just, *chef’s kiss*
#alien broadcast  #atlas broadcast  #billy  #clark kent

…

(OAN)

“These pagan worshiping aliens coming to Earth to play games with real human’s lives, trying to distract us from their oncoming invasion-”

…

(AO3)

Clark looked at Mr. Drake-Wayne, his heart stuttering. How could he be so undone, when he was supposed to be the actual adult. But Timothy’s mere presence-

…

(Youtube)

“-and there was an apparent effort to return hostages in a safe manner. Tim Drake-Wayne’s concern about people abducted from planes and automobiles was prescient, but no one fell to their death or was run over. However, one person taken from an airplane wound up very nearly in the middle of nowhere, underneath the original flightpath, and needed to be rescued by Superman-

…

(AI generated news content)

“Yes, for those of you who did not already know, Timothy Drake-Wayne is the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises. At the age of sixteen, Timothy Drake-Wayne has become the youngest ever CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

“Billy Batson is an eleven year boy from Fawcett, Pennsylvania. He went missing over one year ago from state foster care, and is registered in the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children database.

“Clark Kent is a reporter with the Daily Planet. He is notable for his marriage to Pulitzer Prize winner, Lois Lane.

“Danny Fenton is fifteen. He is a resident of Amity Park, Illinois, and he is a sophomore at Casper High School. He is best known for discovering the sex of a captive purple backed gorilla.”

…

(Clickbait article)

There are many ways, in this day and age, for an individual to have super powers. Whether they’re metas, aliens, the product of scientific experimentation, or things even weirder than that, we’ve got the scoop on how Earth’s most dangerous contestants may have gotten powers-

…

(Late night show)

“Look at that baby face! You’re telling me this little guy is dangerous? I mean, maybe dangerously tugging at my heartstrings. He looks like he’s about to hold up an empty bowl and say, ‘Please, sir, can I have some more?’ He looks like he’s going to sing an upbeat tune as he hawks newspapers on the corner. He looks like he’s about to be adopted by Bruce Wayne! Tim better look out, is all I’m saying.”

“Well, he’s already treating him like a little brother, now, isn’t he?”

“All according to his adorably evil little plan.”

…

(BBC News)

“-no physical injuries remain, but hostages were returned in absolute hysterics. It absolutely cannot be overstated, just how traumatizing this event must have been-”

…

(Podcast)

“-meanwhile, the so-called saviors were telling jokes and swapping clothes, all the while there were eight thousand hostages in danger-”

“Now, the shredding wheels did not appear until the contestants exited the maze.”

“Well they sure didn’t know that! Meanwhile, watch the footage. It’s clear that Batson brat had figured out the pingpong challenge minutes before he actually said anything about it. Not giving a damn about the hostages-”

…

(Tumblr)

AmericanWarriorManosphere

Pee Shy Youth, or the Problem with American Masculinity

The Calvin decal, urinating on whichever brand is out of favor; the Goonies taking a leak together on a cave wall; the good old fashioned trough urinal. American youth did not used to be afraid of-

(Read More)

Justalittlefaeimp

This is seriously what you’re worried about, now? Whatever’s going on with ‘American masculinity’ is aside from the point when the whole world is watching children play a blood sport, you absolute weirdo. 

…

(Kick Stream)

“The fact that Clark Kent and Timothy Drake-Wayne knew each other before this event. The fact that Clark Kent’s wife, Lois Lane, has had in-person meetings with an alien. What were they talking about? What arrangements were they making? Then we have the fact that Amity Park is a CIA playground-”

…

(Blogpost)

…as a mother of three boys, myself, I can tell you: Yes. I love them more than anything. But teenaged boys, my own included, are deeply dangerous to a peaceful society. They need firm control from their mothers to keep from going out and raping and murdering whoever they feel like. 

Now, look at Clark Kent, a working man who is married to a strong and independent woman. Who is raising their son? That is what makes a man like Clark Kent dangerous. Oh, he is a kind hard-working man. He respects his wife. Well, why doesn’t he respect her enough to let her use her strength to raise their son to be a sane and respectful member of society? He’s fallen into this trap of thinking that American households need to be dual-earning, and-

…

(Revivalist Broadcast)

“They call him a god. Even the so-called ‘Justice League’ says that this demon is a ‘god’, but why should that surprise us? When seductresses like the so-called ‘Wonder Woman’ claims to be the child of pagan deities, when she is, in fact a witch. Just as ‘Super Man’ is a witch. Just as their unholy leader, the ‘Batman’ is a demon straight from hell!

“The Devil is a liar, and he tells you he is doing good, when he is doing evil-”

…

(Blogpost)

How to Have Conversations with Your Children in the Face of Calamity; Plus, tips on avoiding the broadcast with your little ones.

“Will the monster take me, too, Mommy?” my six year old asked me, today-

“How about this,” said Tim once he’d appeared in the ‘confessional.’ “You want me to give you statements, and I want you to give us some privacy. How about, I’ll give you statements, and you stay out of our bedroom and bathroom.”

It was a risky proposition, precisely because the Tantalan’s had almost all the power. They didn’t have to negotiate with Tim; could just find any number of ways to pressure him to play along without giving him any concessions. Tim didn’t have a good read on these people, yet, to know what he was getting into by trying to bargain. It was just, continued non-compliance was its own risk, and if Tim was going to take a jump, he’d like to at least get something out of it.

The Cleric Interviewer, who Billy would call CAN3, did look pensive a moment.

“Well, I certainly could not agree to such a bargain in perpetuity. Perhaps just on a day by day basis.”

And this could be its own trap; get Tim comfortable with speaking to them, slowly encroach more and more on his privacy, until Tim might not see the worth of continued fighting over every scrap of his dignity.

He held his hand out, though, in part out of curiosity of how the Tantalan would respond.

They shook his hand.

“So, what do you think of your fellow competitors?” they asked.

Tim kept it professional, like he was at a press briefing. “I’ve been enjoying getting to know them.”

“You’ve known Clark before this?” they asked.

“Clark has been a familiar figure at different Wayne Enterprises events, or Wayne Foundation galas. He’s interviewed Bruce and myself on more than one occasion, as well. Right now, it seems he’s really trying to step up as someone we can depend on.”

“Well, now, you’ve taken on a very responsible role, already,” said the Interviewer.

“I have,” said Tim. “And I’ve been blessed to have the opportunity. I like to think I do it well. But I have also always had a support system both in the office and at home, so I’m glad I’m not doing this all alone.”

“Now, you’re currently in a competition where there can only be one winner. Do you have any thoughts on who you would like to see eliminated first?” 

“Well, first of all, I definitely intend to win this. Gotham has been through enough these last few years, without whatever may befall them in the next weekly event. But, I actually have a question about that,” said Tim. “What’s going to happen to the contestants, once they’re eliminated?”

“They’ll stop competing in the Survivor game,” said the Interviewer.

“Yes, but will they stay on the island? Maybe even get to stick around near the competition. Or go back to the dorm.”

“Oh, there’s no space for them here after elimination. They would have to wait in the dormitory.”

Tim nodded. His first thought had been to eliminate Billy, to spare Billy whatever next trials and indignities. But, he didn’t want Billy completely alone in the dorm, without any possible intervention should a cleric come and harass him. His next thought was to eliminate Clark, first, and then eliminate Billy. Except, he very much suspected that Billy had anxiety about being alone with adult men. 

“Eliminate Danny, eliminate Billy, then eliminate Clark,” said Tim. 

“Would you say Danny’s your hardest competition?”

Even if Billy was Captain Marvel, which Tim really hoped he wasn’t, Tim wouldn’t bet against Clark. Especially, given that Tim suspected that, if Billy was Captain Marvel, then he did not have access to any of his abilities as Billy.

“Oh, I don’t think I know any of them well enough yet to know who the biggest competition is going to be,” which was certainly true given that Billy and Danny both were massive question marks to Tim. “Admittedly, I’m thinking more of keeping Billy safe, than the tactics of winning this game.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Would you say that you see Billy as more of a child than you are?”

“Absolutely,” said Tim.

“So, do you know very much about the game you’re playing,” asked the Interviewer.

“Mostly through cultural osmosis,” Tim admitted. Really, Steph or Dick would have been the best prepared for this particular game, out of the entire Bat family.

“Do you feel ready for what’s coming?” 

“I try to be ready for anything,” said Tim.

“Thanks for letting me get to know you better, Tim! We’ll check in, more, later.”

Fade to white.

“We meet again, Danny!”

Danny gave them an exhausted look. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“How have you been feeling about everything?”

“Bad,” said Danny.

“Oh no!” The Cleric said with condescending sympathy. “Are you worried about how you’ll perform, with your home town on the line?”

“Obviously,” said Danny. 

“Now, you got pretty angry in your dormitory, last night. Are you planning to bring some of that energy to Survivor?” 

Danny stared at them in near disbelief. What the hell kind of a question was that?

“Well, I don’t feel any anger at any of my fellow hostages,” he said. 

“What do you think of them?”

“They’re awesome,” said Danny. 

“Who do you think is going to win?” asked the interviewer.

“Me,” said Danny. 

“Well, you’ll have to get through Tim,” said the Interviewer. “He said he’s planning to eliminate you first.”

For a moment, Danny felt a wave of protective anger for everyone he had back in Amity. But, he was getting better about thinking through all that. 

Really, he had thought that Tim and Clark would all be on the same page with him about eliminating Billy first, to keep him out of the line of fire. After everything that had happened last night, though…he thought he could see some of Tim’s logic.

“Well, I’ll just have to make sure we eliminate Tim, first,” said Danny.

Except, to do that, the green team would have to lose the first immunity challenge…

That was obvious to the Interviewer as well, and they had a gleam in their eye as they said, “Does that mean you have no intention of winning immunity from the first elimination?”

It made the most sense. Danny was pretty sure Tim didn’t actually have any super powers. So, if they lost the first round, then Danny was pretty sure he could make sure it was Tim that was eliminated in the second. Assuming they didn’t just go straight to a vote? Danny wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work with only four contestants. The structure of the game was all off. Normally, by the time there were only four contestants, the teams had already been dissolved. 

So…going into this half-ignorant, and self-sabotaging his first round, Danny had to figure out how to eliminate Tim first without sabotaging Amity Park.

“My intention is to win the game. And that means getting Tim off the playing field.”

Clark was still trying to wrap his head around the Tantalan’s inherent philosophy. Because from what Clark had seen, they deeply valued and protected their children.

He had seen countless Tantalan children up in the stands with their caregivers. There was a piece of Tantalan physiology that Clark was pretty sure Tim, Danny, and Billy were not yet aware of, because they had yet to see a Tantalan with their children. But they had webbed skin that folded down from their arms and the sides of their torsos. They used it to shelter their children. Almost every child he had seen in the stands had been held close by a caregiver under the protective veil under their arms. He had only seen them leave that protection to go directly under another Tantalan’s arm, or to walk a very short distance under carefully watchful eyes.

They valued their children deeply. And yet, they had abducted Billy, Tim, and Danny into a blood sport. Of course, they let their own children watch blood sport.

Perhaps he was reading too much into his observations. The Tantalans may not experience a communal care for each other’s children. They may just not see other species’s children as being valuable.

But, he also wondered if the inclusion of Billy, Tim, and Danny was itself an indictment of humanity’s inability to extend the same level of protection as the Tantalans towards their own children. Billy, most obviously, had been completely failed by society, living alone on the streets. Tim had taken on two roles that ideally should have been reserved for adults, as a vigilante and a CEO. Danny, Clark was less sure about, but at the very least Danny was isolated from his parents because they had let him down with their regressive and immoral views, and at worst, Danny’s, perhaps ghostly abilities would put him at much greater, much more dangerous, odds with them. Clark still was not sure what to make of the scars on the boy’s body. 

And Clark…

Clark had let down Kon-El for too long before he started to get his act together. Clark had let Jon take on the Superboy mantle at ten years old. Though, he’d be hard pressed to keep Jon from getting himself in trouble every time he turned his back to him.

Well, apparently, the Tantalan’s did not turn their backs on their children.

At any rate, Clark wanted to poke at the issue a little more, and the interview seemed like a good time to try. He’d have to see how good of an interviewer they were. Only a rookie would let an interviewee turn the conversation back on them. If he could, he also wanted to tease out their thoughts on privacy and modesty. Another thing that might not have been obvious last night, was most of the Tantalans wore nothing at all, except for some simple accessories. It wasn’t uncommon among species with no obvious external genitalia. The only clothes he had seen on the Tantalans in the crowd had appeared to be on Tantalans of some sort of status. It made the prospect of their own privacy being respected seem less than likely.

“So, I would like to know if Tantalan’s value childhood,” said Clark.

There was something intense about their gaze as they looked back at him. “Oh, childhood is very precious,”

“Is the reason you have brought Billy, Danny, and Tim into this because you do not value human children, the way you do your own?” asked Clark.

“Oh,” and here their voice was almost silky. “I would not say we value human children any less than human’s do.” 

Whelp.

“At any rate, your three competitors are here for the sole reason of their status as three of the four most dangerously powerful beings on Earth. And our Cleric Host was most assuredly right when he said that Earth cannot weasel out of responsibility for that.”

Did the Tantalan’s consider them dangerous precisely because they were powerful children with inadequate support systems? Though, Clark would argue that Tim’s support system was much better than some super powered sidekicks Clark knew of. 

Or, Clark could be completely off base, and this could simply be about sheer potential to cause harm.

“You have a son, yourself, don’t you?” asked the Interviewer, clearly done indulging Clark.

“I do,” said Clark, not wanting Jon to be a topic of conversation, or so much as a thought in the Tantalan’s heads.

“Would you say that you’re feeling a little fatherly towards the boys, in his absence?”

“I’d like to think I’d be trying to take care of all of them, whether my son was here or not.”

“And what would you say to Jonathan, if he were here right now?”

Clark pressed his lips together. How casually she had name dropped his son.

“I would say, Jon, I love you. Now get out of here while I handle this, and mind your mother.”

“Oh, how sweet,” said the Interviewer. “Have you considered you may have to stab your fellow contestants in the back to keep Jon and everyone else in Metropolis safe?”

So the first challenge they had was setting up camps. After their long trek through the jungle, and after all of them had come back from their confessionals, they had come to a fork in the path. Clark and Billy were sent to the left to find their campsite, and Danny and Tim had been sent to the right. Some uncomfortable glances had been shared, while Billy looked stonily at the ground.

Clark was pretty sure they were all on the same page of what they were thinking about. Billy was not going to be comfortable alone with Clark. It was probably little to nothing to do with Clark specifically, but it was hard not to feel guilty about it. Especially after the episode the night before. Clark would just have to mind any boundaries, like he was a camp counselor. Only, usually there was a buddy-system rule, for camp counselors, so that was already a boundary crossed…

Billy had been red faced as he suggested two separate shelters, and Clark had agreed a little too easily, considering how much time and effort even one shelter would cost them, to say nothing of the fact that before they worried about a shelter, they’d need to worry about starting a fire, collecting water, and boiling it, because the water wasn’t potable. Then wait for the water to cool enough to drink, all the while working up a sweat in the heat building camp. 

Eventually, another problem arose.

“Hey, Clark, they say if there was a bathroom around here?”

Billy knew they hadn’t, but hoped Clark may have seen something through the foliage.

“Number one, or number two?” 

“Does it matter?”

“Well,” said Clark, moving to the very small pile of supplies they’d been given. “There’s no bathroom. We have a shovel and TP if you need to go number two. Just find an out-of-the-way tree, otherwise, but either way, don’t go out of shouting distance.”

The man said, as though they did not both know that there was no such thing as ‘out of shouting distance’ with Clark. Well, not that Clark knew that Billy knew.

“Toilet paper and a shovel,” said Billy. “Hey, that’s better than what I had when I was on the streets.”

Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, because Clark looked at him all sad like.

“So,” said Danny, lashing some sticks together with some of the vine’s they’d found, while Tim was up in a tree felling palm leaves. 

(Tim had said he should do it, because he was ‘physically conditioned’. But Danny should have been the one in the tree. He could fly. If Tim fell, and hurt himself…)

“So,” Tim called back.

“We both want Billy out of the line of fire, but we don’t want him to be alone in the dorm, and we don’t want to give up on our home towns.”

Tim paused sawing through the leaf he was working on.

“They really gave up the illusion the confessionals were private real fast, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” Danny agreed. “But, just because it isn’t personal, doesn’t mean it isn’t personal, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “I…You know there’s a lot more people in Gotham, than Amity Park.”

“Are you seriously asking me to turn on my hometown?!”

Nothing was said for a moment.

“Sorry,” said Tim. “I had to…”

He had to try, because wouldn’t Danny have tried, if he’d had a good reason to give Tim for why Gotham was a better sacrifice than Amity Park.

They continued working a little longer, until Tim climbed down the tree.

“No hard feelings,” said Danny, “but don’t you ever try to tell me to sacrifice my home, again.”

“Yeah, no, I’m sorry, again.” said Tim.

Not even twenty-four hours and there may be no hard feelings, but they were still at odds.

“So, how soon do you figure until we can get Billy out of here?” asked Tim, since Danny was the resident Survivor expert.

“I mean, I don’t know their plans, obviously,” said Danny. “But they need five or six days of content. I’m pretty sure all we’re doing today is camping, and tomorrow we might just have a competition to get rewards, instead of immunity or elimination. So…it’ll be a few days.”

“Hm,” was Tim’s pensive reply.

“Just imagine the look on that little gremlin’s face if he heard us conspiring to protect him.”

“Hah, yeah,” said Tim. “Imagine the look on his face if they clip you saying that, and play it for him.”

“Tim, don’t put that out in the universe, man.”

They had done alright for themselves, that day. Their camp was set up. They’d had unseasoned rice and beans with scavenged coconut for dinner without complaining. If Clark had perhaps been just a little bit more nimble and strong in doing his part to make their shelters, well, it shouldn’t have been obvious to anyone watching. And, if Billy had mostly kept himself out of arms reach of Clark, well Clark wouldn’t take that personally.

Kids didn’t choose the streets for no reason. 

And, eventually, there was nothing to do but let the day wind down. The sun, yellow, but not Earth’s yellow sun, had settled below the horizon, and twilight had cut down on the day’s heat. They sat down around their little fire, Billy rubbing at red and blistered feet. Clark very much resented, all over again, the Tantalan’s little joke of restricting them to the clothes they had been wearing when they had been abducted. Billy’s shoes were clearly not up for trekking through the jungle.

Finally, though, it was time for the broadcast.

The Tantalans were nice, this time. Instead of putting it up in the sky, where they’d have to lay on their backs, or crane their necks, they put it right over the fire. In spite of the flames, the image came through clearly.

“Thank you, one and all, for tuning in to your nightly broadcast. Tonight, we kick off our week’s entertainment, a miniseries production of the reality television show, Survivor! But first, how about we catch up with what our contestants get up to when production is done for the day?”

“Oh geez,” said Billy.

Clark agreed.

It started with a supercut of sorts. A couple of seconds of Danny with his head in the sink. A second of Billy dispensing whipped cream onto his ice cream bar. Danny clutching his shirt to his chest, his scars partially visible. “Dude, get out of here!” Clark stepping quietly into the bedroom, approaching Danny. Clark reaching out to Billy. Billy in the corner, telling him to get out. Billy sleeping in the bathtub.

“Wait,” said Clark.

“Are they trying to…”

From about a half mile away, Clark heard Tim say, “Wait, are they trying to cancel Clark?”

“This is so awkward,” said Danny.

Clark was suddenly hoping they showed a lot more footage of them.

There was a long held note as the image of Billy faded away, a cello, Clark thought.

“Yesterday, our contestants were gathered into their new dormitory, where they’ll be spending their time between events.” The image on the screen showed them as they had first appeared there, looking around. “Unfortunately, it was not long after their arrival that Danny decided to get a little big for his britches with some blasphemy, but that was quickly remedied.”

They didn’t show what Danny had said. Just, “…like- ACK!” as the bubbles spewed from his mouth. They showed the event in whole, from multiple angles, up until Danny had finished rinsing his mouth out, and was leaning against the counter top, a very sullen look on his face. 

“We also learned that when human children are upset, they’re able to isolate themselves, completely alone.”

“Alright, nice meeting you guys, but I actually would like to be alone right now,” said Danny. The production skipped the rest of that conversation, just cutting to Danny walking through the door to the bedroom, and closing it behind him, only the ‘camera’ followed Danny further, as he kicked the corner of a bed, gave a wordless growl, and sat down with his head in his hands. 

“Can you not?!” Clark heard from the distance of Danny and Tim’s camp.

It cut directly to Billy at the table.

“Ugh!” said Billy, a few feet away from Clark.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE-” the Billy on the screen cut himself off. “I’m taking some alone time,” and it showed him storming off, slamming the door, and then pacing in the bedroom, twisting his fingers in his hair.

“Do you think I should check on Danny?” asked Clark.

“Absolutely not,” said Tim. “He just had his mouth washed out with soap, in front of us, and tomorrow in front of the whole world. Let him lick his wounds in private.”

He was glad they didn’t show Billy’s response to that comment.

“Clark wanted to cook for the boys, but found the kitchen was not set up for it. That doesn’t mean our contestants did not eat well, last night.”

There was a mashup of them eating their meals, including Billy sticking his tongue out with his mouth full, and Billy again, with his ice cream bar and whipped cream.  

“They’re sure showing a lot more of me and Danny, than you and Tim,” said Billy.

Well, they had been a lot more expressive, last night.

“Tim and Danny wound up showing off a lot of scars, as they changed for bed,” said the Cleric Host. 

“No, don’t!” Danny called out in the distance, more panicked than angry this time. He then started making a keening sound of distress as the scene changed to show Tim and Danny with their shirts off, their backs on display, Tim with a litany of scars scattered about, and Danny with his back mostly smooth except for a long linear scar down his spine that Clark had not seen the night before. It was as Tim was putting on a pajama shirt when the Cleric Interviewer appeared in the room and began pestering them. They showed some closeups of the scars on Danny's upper arms, but the wide shot was angled in such a way that it was hard to get a complete picture of what was poking out from around Danny’s shirt and how they were symmetrical on both sides.

It was a lousy thing for the clerics to have done, and a lousy thing for the clerics to broadcast, but…

“Hey, at least now the world has context for the shirt clutching,” said Billy.

Clark sighed.

“We also learned that human adults like to sleep in separate rooms from children,” said the Cleric Host, showing Clark making himself at home on the couch. 

“Maybe he should have slept in the bedroom, though, because he had to go in a couple of times to help the boys with their nightmares.”

“Ugh!” said Billy.

“Shut! Up!” said Danny, furious again.

They showed the whole thing through, first Clark getting up to tend to Danny. It even showed Clark’s troubled pensive face as he left the room again. 

“Poor Danny!” said the Cleric Host. “It sounds like Danny worries quite a lot about being perceived as inhuman.”

In the distance, Danny shrieked in frustration.

“It’s less obvious what little Billy was dreaming about, but it left him in quite the state when he was woken up by Clark.”

“Assholes,” Billy mumbled under his breath, as the scene played out.

“Billy, is there anything you would like me to do if you have another nightmare?”Clark asked.

Billy shrugged, and didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Throw something at me from across the room?” he said after a moment.

Clark huffed.

“Tonight, on Keeping Up with the Kontestants,” said Billy, affecting the Cleric Host’s voice, as the Billy on the screen curled up in the bathtub, “Clark inexplicably started throwing things at poor defenseless baby Billy, who was just trying to sleep.”

Clark had to laugh at that.

“Whelp, #CancelClark trended for about two minutes, and now #UncancelClark is,” said Cyborg.

“Hn,” said Bruce. Mostly, he just resented everyone treating this like it actually was a reality TV show, and not several overlapping crimes against humanity.

The ticker Bruce had set up to print out messages from the Gotham chat, to keep his small screen clear, began printing out a new message. It was a response from Stephanie, who he had asked to comment on how worried they should be about the Survivor game format, after they had determined that, no, the four abductees were not on Fiji.

Not too worried, if they actually keep to the format. But the actual show isn’t fully safe, and there’s a reason the contestants have to be fit, pass a physical, and mental health screenings. It can be very intense. Challenges can be very physical. Plenty of opportunities for injuries or drowning.

It was nothing Bruce had not expected. Hopefully, Clark and Tim would be able to keep Billy and Danny safe. They seemed to be good kids, if their determination yesterday was any indication. The video the Tantalan’s had just shown indicated they were also emotionally volatile, which was entirely understandable but worrisome in their current environment.

They watched as the Cleric Game Master explained a little of the game to the four contestants, and the contestants were not the only ones who tensed when it was explained that the winner’s home-town would be immune from the upcoming weekly challenge. What they would be immune from had not been explained, and Bruce and his family would likely be spending the next week working to shore up their city’s resiliency.

Not that Bruce did not have faith in Tim.

Final winner is voted on by the eliminated contestants, Stephanie messaged him.

That could complicate things.

If there’s a tie? He messaged back.

Third place finalist breaks the tie.

With only four contestants, the fourth place competitor’s vote would be rendered entirely irrelevant. Would the Tantalan’s bother staging a vote, or would they find some other way to select a final winner?

Watching the confessionals, Bruce observed that if Stephanie’s assessment held, and either Danny or Tim had their way, then Billy would be selecting the winner. 

He resolved to redouble his efforts to find further information on Billy Batson.

They watched the setting up of the camps. When Clark and Billy finally had a fire ready, and had their water ready to boil, Clark took notice of how much Billy was perspiring, and made a show of finding a coconut and struggling to open it to give Billy the water inside.

They watched as Tim and Danny had their little confrontation with each other. Bruce was a little concerned their home towns could turn on them, given the apparent prioritization of Billy over the rest of the game.

“In-fighting is a real concern,” said Black Canary. “Hopefully the main weekly events continue to be cooperative. Because making them compete against each other, with so much at stake…”

It was a concern they could do little about.

“They have access to social media,” said Oracle, already matching Bruce’s concern, except coming in with a solution. “If we can manipulate what’s trending, we can boost media that focuses on their teamwork and camaraderie.”

“I can do that,” said Cyborg. “If I have approval?”

They typically had rules against doing what had been proposed, so Cyborg would need approval from the League’s voting members. It was for just such a reason as this they had been keeping a quorum convened during the broadcasts.

Martian Manhunter, perhaps the most sensitive among them to such concerns, spoke against the proposal, but the motion passed with most members available voting for it, generally judging the overstep to be appropriately targeted and small in scope, of high importance, and promoting pro-social behavior.

“Impulse has not been able to find any of the Fentons, or Samantha or Tucker, in Amity Park,” Wally said once the vote was over, from somewhere in Guatemala. “No sign of Danny’s phone, either.”

“I’ve got eyes on the Fenton parents,” said Cyborg. “They were the ones in the blimp that took off from the family home. I’ll update further when the broadcast is over. Danny’s phone hasn’t been pinging off any towers.”

Not much else happened during the rest of the broadcast. There was another round of confessionals, where the abductees spoke of their comfort level with roughing it. Besides watching Survivor, Danny talked watching survival shows with his mom and going camping with her. Tim spoke about having taken a wilderness survival course. Billy acknowledged that his experience on the streets was not a perfect translation to living in a jungle. He was also putting on a façade as a cute and innocent kid with spunk, a facade he had likely perfected after a short lifetime of managing the adults around him, to get by.

Later in the broadcast, Clark mentioned to Billy that he should be careful in the water, because tropical islands like Fiji did have poisonous and venomous sea life. Billy disclosed being unable to swim, and Stephanie messaged Bruce to let him know a lot of Survivor challenges happened in or over the water.

They still did not know how far the Tantalan’s would allow things to get, especially in these more entertainment-focused side shows. With only four contestants, they likely did not want anyone dying off, at least just yet. However, yesterday’s ordeal had very much given the impression the contestants could be killed with any misstep. For all they knew, the Tantalan’s would just abduct a new contestant if Billy drowned in the next few days.

Not that Clark or Tim would allow Billy to drown.

The broadcast ended with shots of the abductees sitting around their respective fires, as the broadcast started.

“The Fenton parents?” Bruce asked.

It had been a risk, letting the blimp fly off.

Cyborg pulled up a video, seemingly from a webcam atop a skyscraper. The bizarre structure was seen in the sky, some manner of green energy field around it, as it approached the broadcast projection. Squinting, Bruce thought he could see something protrude from the crew cabin of the vehicle, which started to put off a purple light.

Abruptly, a bolt of lightning struck the blimp, causing the purple light and the green shield to immediately dissipate. More bolts of lightning lashed out, puncturing the balloon, and seeming to vaporize parts of the vehicle.

“You said you have eyes on the parents?” Aquaman asked, skeptically.

Cyborg pulled up a video to the side, showing the Doctors Fenton appearing suddenly in a flash of white light on a sidewalk from, Bruce suspected, an ATM camera. Dr. Jack Fenton was shaking his fist angrily at the sky. Meanwhile the lightning strikes were still ongoing on what remained of the blimp.

“I’ll say this for the alien god,” said Cyborg, “no pieces of the blimp are reported to have crashed into the city below.”

“So Danny Fenton, an abducted child, gets violently assaulted for ‘blasphemy,’” said Black Canary, “but his whack job parents get away with attacking the alien god’s broadcast without a scratch?”

Bruce suspected the Tantalan’s may well have plans for the Fenton parents moving forward.

“Any indication of the whereabouts of Jasmine, Samantha, and Tucker?” asked Bruce.

“Nothing since their cell phones stopped pinging in the Fenton household, shortly after the blimp departed.”

“We should have sent an operative to the home immediately, yesterday,” said Aquaman.

The world had been in chaos, yesterday. They were stretched thin. Ideally, Impulse would even now be doing what Flash was doing, putting fires out around the world.

“Can humans survive in the Infinite Realms?” asked Bruce.

“Not indefinitely,” said Zatanna. “The environment should not be immediately harmful, but exposure should be limited. To say nothing of the numerous powerful entities that reside there.”

For the moment, she was the only member of Justice League Dark present to answer their more esoteric questions since Constantine had in fact been dispatched to deal with their Fentonworks problems.

“Is there any way we can retrieve them?” asked Bruce.

“Short of making use of the Fenton’s portal and sending in a rescue team to search the Infinite Realms? No. Honestly, I think, for their sake, we just have to hope that they know what they’re doing, and actually do have allies among the denizens there.”

“And what can we expect, if they do bring back some manner of spectral reinforcements?” asked Wally, from somewhere in Poland.

“I mean, it’s really hard to say,” said Zatanna. “Maybe we should talk about the Ancient Masters. The average ghost would likely be a non-issue in what’s going on. From what little we know of the Ancient Masters, some of them, I think, could try to interfere. I just don’t know how effective we could expect them to be, or if we can even expect them to be aligned with Phantom, assuming he is the ghost king.”

“What are they?” asked Black Canary. “Just old powerful ghosts?”

“It’s more than that,” said Zatanna. “They’re personifications of concepts crucial to the universe and the souls that inhabit it. We don’t know how many of them there are. We don’t know what all their domains include. But there is an ancient master of Weather, Vortex. An ancient master of Dreams, Nocturn. An ancient master of Time, Clockwork. There’s at least four more than that, because it’s recorded that seven ancient masters sealed Pariah Dark away.”

“How powerful are they?” asked Bruce.

“It’s really hard to say,” said Zatanna. “Again, information about what goes on in the Infinite Realms is spotty. We’re reasonably sure, though, that the ancient master of Time is capable of time travel.”

Bruce would have liked to have already been briefed about such an entity before it became relevant.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” asked Bruce.

Zatanna shook her head. “Just that Pariah Dark was said to have had ‘near infinite’ power, and seven Ancient Masters stopped him. But we don’t even know if they currently have any connection to Danny Fenton.”

“Am I the only one who remembers that yesterday, when Danny needed an epithet, he said, ‘Ancients!’” asked Cyborg.

Well, that was certainly a clue in favor, though it could just be a common epithet in the Infinite Realms.

“Any indication of how they may align, morally speaking?” Bruce asked.

“Not really,” said Zatanna. “Just that, well, like Mr. Lancer stated, yesterday: they are alien. They’re dead, or were never alive in the first place. We can’t expect their morality to fit into our own neat labels. Frankly, there’s a good reason the realms of the living and the dead have been kept separate.”

“And if our missing kids come back with some sort of ghost army?” asked Hawkman.

Zatanna pursed her lips. “Well, let’s hope we’ve resolved the situation here, before that happens.”

“Wait, what the hell are those scars?” asked Sam. 

Even in the Infinite Realms, the broadcast persisted, at least on screens from the living realm, and the Specter Speeder’s screens were taken over. Standing hunched over awkwardly behind them, Frostbite let out a low growl.

“Woah, those weren’t there over the Summer,” said Tucker. “When did that happen?”

They both turned to Jazz, who had furious tears streaming down her face. 

“Jazz, what the hell is going on?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, it’s time to spill,” said Tucker.

“Our parents…” was all Jazz managed to get out.

“What the hell did they do?!” asked Sam.

“They caught him,” said Jazz. “I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?” asked Sam.

“We didn’t know,” Tucker pointed out.

“It was I who treated the Great One’s injuries after he made his escape,” said Frostbite. “He would not say who it was who had captured him, and so I feared the worst.”

“Well, if you treated him, then why does he have all of those scars?” asked Sam. “He never gets scars after his ghost fights.”

“This was not a ghost fight,” said Frostbite. “We are creatures of memory and emotion. What sense is there in holding onto scars from some brawl or another. But, deliberate injuries, caused by someone who was supposed to love and protect the Great One. Yes, I can see why those would linger.”

Jazz felt like she was going to throw up.

How could this have happened?

It was a ridiculous question. What had happened had been the natural consequence of conditions that had existed for over a year. 

“When did this happen?” asked Tucker. No one expected an answer from Frostbite. Ghosts living in the Infinite Realms did not tend to keep up with a calendar.

Jazz had been wondering the same thing. He had been moody, lately. Skittish. Avoiding the house. When had that started?

“Almost two months ago,” said Sam. “He went off the grid for a hot minute. I don’t think he’s been the same, since. I’ve been worried about him. I just didn’t know…”

“How bad was it?” Tucker asked Frostbite.

“I have said enough on the matter,” said Frostbite.

“They said…they said they almost got him down to his core,” said Jazz, burying her face in her hands.

Sam swore.

“When did they say this?” asked Tucker.

“Just before we left.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” Sam demanded.

“I don’t know!” cried Jazz. She really didn’t. Ideally, they would be able to call Child Protective Services, and they could both be removed from the home for their own safety and well-being. But Danny was part ghost. He was illegal. There was no help for them.

“Well, first thing we need to do is get him back,” said Tucker.

“Well, I can’t navigate without the screen,” said Sam.

Everyone looked to Frostbite.

“Ah,” he said. “Well, I could go out and show you the way.”

“Thank you,” said Jazz.

The thought wouldn’t leave her head, that maybe Danny was safer where he was, instead of back home.

The pallet Billy was sleeping on was as comfortable as they had been able to make it, but it was not exactly comfortable. More comfortable than some of the places Billy had slept before, to be certain, though. Just, the physical comfort was the least of his worries. He was used to not feeling safe, wherever he fell asleep. Only, trying to fall asleep, here, it felt dialed up to eleven. 

It wasn’t that Clark was nearby or, it wasn’t only that. Billy had never felt so vulnerable in his life, even before he had become Captain Marvel. Here they were constantly being watched. Constantly at risk of someone transporting in. Constantly at risk of being transported out. Would Billy wake up tomorrow morning to find himself somewhere completely different? Somewhere even more dangerous? 

What would he be able to endure before he was forced to out himself as Captain Marvel to the entire world?

There was nothing easy about falling asleep that night and, once he had, Clark did wind up needing to wake him up from a bad dream. Though, since there wasn’t anyone else around, he just talked loudly, instead of needing to throw anything at him.

(Twitter Posts)

@ChrisK

Okay, I know this is all seriously messed up, but are these aliens seriously going to give us the best, most authentic, reality tv show we’ve ever seen?

#AtlasBroadcast

@WiteHouseOfficial

Replying to @ChrisK

Are you saying that the thing missing from reality television was blood sport and kidnapping? Everyone should boycott these broadcasts. Turn off your television and go play a boardgames with your family.

#BroadcastBoycott 

@ChrisK

Replying to @WiteHouseOfficial

Lol, even TVs that have been unplugged still show the broadcast, which you’d know if you’d actually tried to turn yours off yesterday and today.

#AtlasBroadcast

@PenguinIceCream

Okay, but can we hear more about what’s happening to these cities that don’t get immunity? Gotham’s been through enough.

#HandsOffGotham #AtlasBroadcast

@WonderWrites

Okay, does this show seriously only have one viable ship? I mean, I see potential, but if they could have all been roughly the same age, it would give us more choices. I haven’t seen anyone else go for it, but let’s call them Tinny.

#AtlasBroadcast #Tinny #Shipping

@FlashShipper

There’s only one viable ship if you’re a coward.

#Shipping #AtlasBroadcast

@WonderWrites

Replying to @FlashShipper 

You can’t ship an actual adult with an actual child!

#Shipping #AtlasBroadcast

@BrainWorm42point5

Replying to @WonderWrites

Hey, controversial take, but let’s not ship the real live children at all? They’ve been kidnapped. And also, they’re real live children.

#AtlasBroadcast #BringThemHome #BroadcastBoycott

Chapter Text

The next morning, Billy’s feet were, if anything, even more inflamed than they had been the night before. He put on a brave face, though, and hobbled around more than Clark liked.

Clark had taken a twilight walk that morning and found a mango tree, so they’d made coconut and mango rice for breakfast. It was only after they had finished that Clark brought up the subject of Billy’s feet, again. 

“We should go to the spring and have you soak your feet before anything else, today.”

Billy shifted a little uncomfortably. More and more, he found himself frustrated with any reminder that he was the weak link in the group. “You really want me sticking my feet into our drinking water?” he asked.

“We can fill our pot with water before you do,” said Clark, “but the spring has a decent flow rate, so it’s not like it’ll be contaminated with anything past this morning.”

“I think the ocean’s closer,” said Billy. 

It was a lot closer. 

“It’s also probably about fifteen degrees warmer,” said Clark. 

“I think I’d rather just…not walk all the way to the spring,” said Billy.

“I could carry you on my back,” said Clark.

Billy flushed. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Clark.

He did trust Clark.

That was what made Clark so scary.

And, he was just going to have to suck it up, because he needed to be able to walk around, today. 

He let Clark crouch down, and Billy climbed onto his back.

“I can hold on myself,” said Billy. “You can keep your hands free.”

“Alright, then,” said Clark, standing up. 

The way over to the spring, Clark made a show of huffing and puffing, but Billy was a little worried people would notice he wasn’t really sweating. Were his footsteps a little too steady?

“I hope we actually get to the spring before they teleport us away to some new activity,” said Billy.

“I hope so, too,” said Clark.

They were in luck and, after Clark had filled their cooking pot with water and Billy had rolled up his pant legs, being able to stick his feet into the cool water was amazing. Billy leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes.

“How long do you think we have?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” said Clark. “Yesterday set a bad precedent, though.”

Yesterday had set a really bad precedent. Billy had had a lot of thoughts running through his head as he’d tried to sleep the night before, but the fact that he could just wake up in a completely new situation, dressed how the clerics wanted, had haunted him.

With his feet hurting, it was a bad time to develop an aversion to teleportation.

“You think that shield’s still up?” asked Tim.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asked Danny.

Yesterday, when Tim had wanted to visit the other camp, and Danny had told him it wouldn’t be allowed, Tim had put it to the test. He had walked back the way they had come, to the fork in the path, and then walked right into an invisible barrier.

“Because I don’t want it to be,” said Tim.

Danny snorted a laugh. The two of them were trying to make some primitive rope out of a particularly sinewy plant Tim had found.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing them soon enough.”

“Yeah, when it’s time to face off against them,” said Tim. “I hope you’re wrong about the pacing of this.”

“Do you think I am?” asked Danny.

“No, I just hope you are,” said Tim.

“Mr. Wishful Thinking, over here,” said Danny. 

“More like I’m worrying so much, I’m circling close to desperation,” said Tim.

“That’s rough, buddy,” said Danny.

Tim huffed.

“Just wait,” said Danny. “We’re going to win a hundred feet of rope, today, and all this will have been for nothing.”

“No, no, I’ll be sending you packing, today,” said Tim. “Then I’ll have all this handmade rope to use for myself.”

“In your dreams, Mr. CEO.”

“I think you guys make too much of that,” said Tim.

“Sounds like something a CEO would say,” said Danny.

Tim threw a stick at him.

“Violence from the one percent!”

“Good morning, contestants!”

Tim did not start when the cleric production assistant appeared between them. Danny was scowling something fierce.

“I hope you’ve had a restful morning-” said the production assistant.

“You know we haven’t,” said Danny.

“-because it’s time to start our day’s activities. We’ll need you to get a move on, and make your way to the beach.”

Tim sighed. 

“You ready, Danny?”

“Yeah, just let me pull the pot off the fire.”

They’d been bringing more water up to boil, but it looked like they’d have to try again after the day’s events. 

“How are we feeling about today?” the production assistant asked.

“Bad,” said Danny.

Fortunately, the cleric left without many more pleasantries, and the two of them were able to make the trek down to the water in peace.

They chatted about engineering along the way, though Tim would, at times, censor himself to keep from talking about anything proprietary to Wayne Enterprises. Danny might have been onto something, about picking up some of his parents’ ‘mad science,’ because he had a tendency to propose pretty wild and impractical ideas. Not that they weren’t feasible, they just made Tim’s palms a little sweaty.

Metaphorically.

They didn’t need any help in that regard, with this heat.

As the sound of waves crashing started to get loud, Tim asked.

“No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” said Danny. “Not that we’ll need to worry about it, today.”

“You know, they could totally change things up just to be contrary,” said Tim.

“Nah, they seem like master plan sort of people,” said Danny.

“A good master plan needs to be flexible,” said Tim.

“Just CEO things,” said Danny.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

There was a Jeep waiting for them on the beach.

“Finally, some wheels,” said Danny. “I don’t see anyone to drive us, so…I’ll drive.”

“Do you even have your learners permit?” asked Tim.

“Pft,” said Danny.

“Well, I’ve got no intention of dying because you wanted to learn how to drive while off-roading in the jungle,” said Tim.

“I know how to drive!”

“Can you show me your driver’s license as proof?” asked Tim.

“You know, you’re being a real CEO right now,” said Danny.

Tim rolled his eyes. He kept a weary eye on the other boy as they approached the vehicle, in case he made a run for the driver’s side door.

“Shotgun!” Danny called, instead.

When no cleric appeared, they got in the Jeep. 

“Do you know how to drive stick?” Danny asked. “Because I know how to drive stick.”

“I know how to drive stick,” said Tim. 

Danny huffed.

When Tim started it, the navigation app came up on the center console, showing exactly where they were supposed to go.

“What do you think they’d do if we just took it for a joyride?” asked Danny, daring in his voice.

“Nothing good,” said Tim. “We gotta pick our battles.”

Danny scowled at him. “Okay, well, which battles do we get to pick? Because so far we’ve just been doing what they wanted.”

Tim had immediately regretted his response. Danny had been looking to blow off some steam with some irreverent talk, and Tim had taken it too seriously. So, now they were talking about it.

“Not everything,” said Tim. 

“Our resistance, so far, is keeping our mouths shut, and we’re hardly even doing that!”

“What would we gain from this rebellion right now?” asked Tim.

“We wouldn’t be doing exactly what they want!”

Even Danny seemed to know that that wasn’t enough, with everything that could be at stake.

“Just drive the car,” he said, after they had sat in silence for a moment.

Tim drove the car. 

It was a bumpy ride to where they were going. Clark wondered if the Tantalans would have let Clark fly to the rendezvous spot, or if they would have just teleported him into the jeep, and made him keep up the facade of the show they were producing.

“I think I’d like to be a reporter,” said Billy.

“Oh yeah?” said Clark, focusing on letting himself be tossed around in his seat a little, like Billy.

Billy was in the back seat, since he was not big enough to ride in the front (“Clark, we faced down a Sphinx, yesterday, and this is what you’re worried about?”). The first thing Clark had done, when they had found the Jeep, was to get the first aid kit from the trunk and put ointment, bandaids, and mole skin all over Billy’s feet, having Billy take some acetaminophen, and activating a chemical cold pack for Billy’s feet (“See, we made that trip to the spring for nothing!”).

“Yeah,” said Billy. “There’s a lot that people don’t think about, about the world, because they don’t see what’s going on. I’d tell ‘em what’s what. But, like, on radio, or something.”

“You want to talk at people all day?”

“Well, I don’t know about all day,” said Billy.

“You’d probably be good at it,” said Clark.

“Aw, you’re just saying that because I think Ms. Lane is cool,” said Billy.

“I was a little surprised you were familiar with her,” said Clark. “I don’t think most eleven-year-olds are.”

“My social worker had her article on the troubled teen industry on her cubicle wall, so I looked her up. She got so many people in trouble!”

“She’s good at that,” said Clark, fondly.

“I’ve got some exposés I'd do on some shady people,” said Billy.

“Oh, like who?” asked Clark.

“Trying to scoop my story?” asked Billy.

Clark laughed.

“Yeah, you’re just trying to figure me out. Get me to tell you my sob story.”

“Well, you could tell me about yourself, if you like.”

In the rear view mirror, Clark could see Billy affect an overly thoughtful look on his face. “My favorite color is red.”

“Hard hitting stuff you have for me,” said Clark.

“And I’m a cat person,” said Billy. 

“Have you ever had one?” asked Clark.

“Well, I’ve never had one,” said Billy. “But I’ve had foster homes with cats before. And dogs. I like dogs in small doses. They can be a bit much.”

A good thing he’s never met Krypto.

“Looks like we’re coming up on our destination.”

“A…steep hillside,” said Billy.

“Looks like,” said Clark. 

He parked in a small clearing where another black Jeep was waiting with Tim and Danny leaning against the side. Billy started getting his shoes back on, grumbling as he did so.

“Danny, Tim,” said Clark, getting out of the car, “it’s good to see you both. I hope yesterday went okay for you?”

“It wasn’t fun,” said Tim, “but we managed okay. Is Billy okay?”

Billy was limping over.

“My blisters got blisters,” he said.

“Oh, we’re going to do everything like on Survivor,” Danny said scornfully. “Except on Survivor, they’re not going to let anyone start without proper footwear!”

“Well, speaking of the game,” said Billy. “You doofuses really planning to throw the first immunity challenge so someone can babysit me?”

“No hard feelings?” asked Danny with a sheepish grin.

“Some hard feelings,” said Billy. “But it’s your funeral. I’m in this to win it.”

Tim and Danny weren’t given a chance to respond.

“Yellow Tribe, Green Tribe,” said the Survivor Cleric Game Master. “You’ve all made it here safely.”

“Cleric,” Clark said dryly. 

Apparently, they weren’t going to have any time to catch up with each other.

“The four of you really roughed it last night,” said the Game Master. 

“I’ve had worse,” said Billy.

If Billy would just name some names…

“It’s not easy, getting by in the wilderness with so few supplies,” said the Game Master. “Today, we’re going to give you the opportunity to make your camps a little more comfortable for you.”

And what sort of a spectacle would they have to make of themselves to achieve that?

“Come on up the hill, and I’ll show you what you’ll be working with.”

Was it too much to ask that they not make Billy run around on a hillside?

There was nothing for the Game Master to reveal, for Clark. He had already seen everything, and had a pretty good idea of what the task would be like. At the top of the hill was a large contraption full of spheres of various sizes, capable of sending them in a few directions down the hill. At the bottom were two catchment zones, far apart from each other. 

“Hey, Billy, get on my back,” said Danny. “I wanna show off my muscles.”

Billy huffed, but didn’t put up a fight. Clark wondered if Danny’s age made the help or the contact easier for Billy to accept.

“Careful, now,” said the Game Master. “Dropping your competition down the hillside would get you disqualified.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool,” said Danny. “we’re not horrible people.”

Perhaps Clark should have insisted on carrying him up, himself. Billy wasn’t exactly big for an eleven-year-old, but he was heavier than a teen with Danny’s physique could reasonably be expected to carry up a steep hill. Danny had commented about showing off his muscles, perhaps to make it easier for Billy’s pride to accept the ride, but Danny was showing off too much about his strength.

At the very least, Danny made a show of huffing and puffing on his way up. And it was a show; Clark could hear his heartbeat keep at a steady fifty-six beats per minute. So far, Clark had only heard it go faster when Danny was upset about something.

“Welcome, Survivors, to the Devil’s Bowling Alley. Your task, should you accept it, will be to collect spheres such as this one, into your tribe’s collection sites.” The arena was decorated like it was a bowling alley, done up in papier-mâché. Into the cleric’s upturned hand, a green aluminum sphere perhaps a foot and a half wide appeared. “Now, some of these spheres are green, and some are yellow. You can only keep spheres of your tribe’s color. However, sending your opposing tribe’s sphere’s towards your own side may be a good way to sabotage them. Inside of the spheres, you may find useful items, such as a music player, to stave off boredom, or a water filter, so you don’t have to boil everything, anymore. Perhaps some seasoning for your food. But be careful. Some of these spheres are full of nothing but iron oxide.”

He pressed a button on the side of the sphere, causing it to open from the bottom in twelve crescent segments, and spill out powdered rust.

It must have weighed over three hundred pounds.

“What?!” asked Danny. “Have you watched Survivor? Because that’s way too dangerous for Survivor.”

“Well, you are a different breed than those contestants.”

“We’re really not,” said Tim.

If it was just Clark and Billy, it wouldn’t be too bad. Clark could operate higher up on the hill, sending safe sphere’s down to Billy, for him to get them into their collection site. Tim could mostly do the same with Danny, if Danny allowed him to (they didn’t know how durable Danny was, was the thing). But Clark didn’t know how quickly the sphere’s would be coming down, if Tim could perfectly avoid all of the weighted ones.

“And, to make things more interesting,” said the Game Master, “tribe members will be attached at the wrists.”

The Cleric could hold up over three hundred pounds like it was nothing, but could he withstand Clark’s heat vision? Clark would have liked to find out.

“And if we choose not to accept the task?” asked Clark.

“Well, then there would be no new rations,” said the Game Master. “I believe both tribes are running low, already.”

Seeing the determined faces of his fellow abductees, Clark didn’t think he could convince them to sit this one out. Well. If it came down to it, Clark could save them. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

“You’re riding on my back,” Clark said to Billy. 

“So it’s fine if you get hit with a big iron ball?” Well, Billy knew Clark could take it, but the rest of the world didn’t, and Clark didn’t know that Billy knew that. 

“Exactly,” said Clark. 

“We’re supposed to take care of each other,” said Billy.

“I’ll move faster with you on my back, anyway,” said Clark.

That was true, but Clark didn’t have to say so. Now Billy was regretting making a fuss.

“Fine, I’ll ride on your stupid back.”

“Thank you, Billy,” said Clark.

Billy didn’t need to be thanked for letting someone else carry him.

Nearby, Tim and Danny, apparently both left handed, debated a bit about who would be on which side. They settled it with rock-paper-scissors, which Tim won.

The bindings wound up being black fabric and velcro, attached with chains of about six inches in length. Billy and Clark bound their left arms together, the better to accommodate Billy riding on Clark’s back, while Danny and Tim went for opposite arms. Then, where Billy secured his cuff to his wrist, Clark secured his around his bicep, so he wouldn’t be jerking Billy’s arm around with his every movement. They’d both glanced at the Game Master when he did so, unsure it would be allowed, but the Game Master apparently saw nothing wrong with it.

Getting onto Clark’s back this time was easier than it had been, earlier that morning. Though, Billy thought it had less to do with repetition than it did with the setting. Clark wasn’t taking care of him, here; this was just a strategy to win as many prizes as they could.

“Okay, well, today certainly is leg day,” Clark quipped. 

The man really needed to learn how to sweat on command. People were going to start noticing, and realize his huffing and puffing was all for show.

Danny had to keep reminding himself not to use his ice core to cool himself down too much. People would definitely figure out something was up with him if he didn’t sweat, like Clark. 

Danny thought that, a couple of months ago, he could have handled all of this a lot better. Danny had plenty of experience pretending to be less than he was. Experience shrugging it off when people more powerful than him, A-listers or teachers, could give him grief with impunity. He’d even dealt with being abducted and held captive, before. He should be able to handle this all better. Just, these last two months…

He wasn’t handling anything well.

Everything would be a lot better if this Antantlous jerk had just shown up over the summer, was all. He might have thought that he’d be less stressed, for having a reprieve from his parents, but it felt as though they were hovering over him, watching, waiting for him to reveal something ghostly.

“So, we’re making things harder for ourselves by also sending yellow balls their way, right?” he asked.

“Sounds about right,” said Tim. “Do you think we’ll be able to trade or share our supplies, afterwards?”

“Maybe,” said Danny. He didn’t really think so. Some seasons they did, and some seasons they didn’t. Given that they’d hardly let them speak for a single minute, this morning, he was guessing they wouldn’t be given the opportunity.

“We have what we need to survive,” said Tim.

“Hm?” 

“I mean, yeah, we’re pretty bare bones with our camp,” said Tim. “Just, try not to take any risks.”

“Oh, I am not going to give them the satisfaction of hitting me with a cannon ball,” said Danny.

“That’s the spirit,” said Tim. “I think you should be the shot caller.”

Danny looked at him in surprise, before he realized. “Wait, you just don’t think I can follow your lead,” said Danny.

“I don’t know if you can, or not,” said Tim. “But I’m pretty sure I can follow yours.”

Danny would call bullshit, if he wanted to argue for no good reason. Tim was probably thinking back to the maze, when Danny was supposed to follow Clark’s lead, and had instead worked at odds with him as a huge stone had been about to crash down on them. 

A couple of months ago, Danny would have said that he could have learned to trust his allies’ moves in the heat of a dangerous situation. But, yeah. Maybe he didn’t have it in him, just then.

“Alright. I’ll call the shots.”

Tim had a new theory that Danny had been held captive, before, if the way he had looked at the black strap before putting it on his wrist had been any indication. It made the current situation all the more tenuous, if Danny was coming into it with pre-existing trauma about captivity. 

While Danny had not exactly been wrong about Tim worrying about him being unable to follow Tim’s lead, the main idea behind Tim’s suggestion had been a way to give Danny just a little bit more agency in what was going on. Because, that agency could wind up being the difference between Danny getting through this whole thing, or losing his shit.

“Any insight into how many of the spheres might be dangerous, versus actual rewards?”

Danny shook his head. “This isn’t a regular Survivor mechanic. It’s like I was saying, I mean, you can’t say that all of their challenges are completely safe, but they never have challenges designed to maim contestants if they get something wrong.”

“Would they throw in empty spheres? Or spheres filled with something useless?”

Danny nodded slowly. “If we went under that framework, then,” he blew out a breath. “Maybe as many as fifty percent of them could be cannon balls.”

“And how fast would they let them down?” asked Tim.

“Pretty fast,” said Danny.

“Okay, so, our first instinct should be to stay out of the way of every sphere, until we can judge that it’s not a cannon ball,” said Tim.

“Right. And, it shouldn’t be hard to tell. We just have to actually pay attention to how they’re coming down the hill.” 

“Let’s not go for any wobblers,” said Tim. “If we’re not sure about-“

“And that’s time, contestants! You can all take position wherever you would like on the hill, as long as you do not pass the red lines.”

There was a red line marking the area in front of the contraption at the top of the hill, and red lines marking a boundary around the collection sites.

Both pairs took up positions around the middle of the hill, giving wary glances to each other. Tim tried to psych himself up.

“Simple directions,” he told Danny. “Try to keep it to one or two words.”

Danny nodded. 

The contraption at the top of the hill had drag-racing style lights to either side of the mouth that would disgorge the spheres, and they lit up red as that same drag race signal tone went off.

Yellow.

Green.

The first sphere out of the gate was yellow, and it was very much a cannonball. Tim and Danny shuffled to the side to let it go by. 

For a moment, it was just that yellow ball flying down the hill. Then three more came out, one after the other. 

“There!” Danny pointed at another yellow ball on track to pass by to the left of them. They just got to it in time, and Tim stopped it with his foot, before scooping it up and stepping in front of Danny to hurl it towards Clark and Billy’s catchment zone. 

“Right!” 

They got out of the way just in time for a green ball to hurtle by. 

“Come on!” said Danny, taking Tim’s hand to dart off to their right, towards another green ball.

Danny wound up sliding into it, his foot kicking the ball up in the air, and Tim just barely got their chained hands up to keep it from flying off. Twisting in place, Tim threw it towards their catchment area. 

“Duck!”

Tim dove nearly onto Danny, letting another yellow cannonball fly over them. The two of them scrambled up. 

Danny pulled them off again, after a green sphere the size of a beach ball, catching it one-armed against his chest. He shoved it towards Tim, who sent it down as Danny stepped out and kicked a yellow ball towards Clark.

“We’re doing this!” said Danny.

“Don’t jinx us!”

“Left,” said Danny, leading them out of the path of two separate cannonballs, and towards a green sphere about the size of a softball.

Once they’d gotten it, the Tantalan’s really tried to kill them, and seemed to be sending down nothing but cannonballs, one after the other.

“I told you!” said Tim, after they’d had to dive right, and then immediately split as much as their arms would allow.

“Yeah, yeah!”

It didn’t last forever, though Tim was feeling pretty harried by the time non-lethal spheres started falling again, with a seeming reprieve from cannonballs. For a minute, it seemed all of the yellow balls were coming out to the left, where Tim and Danny were, and all the green spheres were coming down on the right where Clark and Billy were. So, they spent a minute feeding each other’s collection zones, with Clark at times passing a sphere to Billy to throw, as he went in for another. 

The last minute or so of the game came down to a resumption of the original random selection and timing of spheres. 

Finally, the game came to an end. 

The two of them collapsed on their backs, gasping for air, and rubbing at their bruises. They hadn’t been hit by any of the cannonballs, but even some of the ‘safe’ spheres had been pretty heavy, and they had been using their bodies to stop them. Even still, Tim couldn’t help but to notice that Danny’s breaths seemed more mechanical, than natural. As though he was deliberately heaving for breath, than actually needing to. Clark was better at pretending such things, though at least Danny was sweating. That was something Clark couldn’t do on command. 

Speaking of, the man ‘staggered’ over, and sat down next to them, by way of letting Billy off his back.

“Well, well, contestants,” said the Game Master, appearing before them. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? That was a very good showing, indeed.”

Too good? Tim wondered as Danny flipped the cleric off. 

“You all were very generous towards your opposing tribes,” said the Game Master, ignoring the rudeness as per usual. “Hoping to influence future elimination votes, perhaps?” 

“It’s a survival situation, you dingus,” said Billy. “We’ve got to look out for each other.”

“I couldn’t have said it better than that,” said Clark.

The voice of Jon Kent popped up in Tim’s head, ‘Oh, sure, if Billy calls someone a dingus, that’s great, but if I call someone a dingus, I need to apologize.’

Yes, that was what Tim was going to think about right now, and not about all of the near misses they’d had with cannonballs hurtling down at them.

“Let’s see how you all did,” said the Game Master. Then, with another flash of white light, they were back at the amphitheater. 

“Aw, man, I was going to drive us back,” said Danny. 

“We’re taking turns?” asked Billy. 

“Nope,” said Clark.

“Also, there’s no teleporting in Survivor,” said Danny.

“This time, I won’t complain,” said Tim.

Another reason to get Danny out of here first, if he was bound and determined to go off-roading. 

They were arrayed on opposite sides of the amphitheater from each other and down on the stage, on either side of the Game Master, there were the two piles of the spheres they had won.

“Billy,” said the Game Master, stooping down to pick up one of the yellow spheres, about a foot in diameter. “Clark rescued this sphere for your team. Why don’t you take a look at what he got you.”

“Got me,” Billy said dubiously. He caught the sphere and took a moment to find the button that would open it up. Once the sphere had blossomed open, Billy said, “Oh!” as he pulled out a shoe box. 

Inside, was a pair of boots that looked like they would fit Billy.

Well, that was a load off, though Billy still had blisters on his feet. Hopefully they’d be a good bit more comfortable, tomorrow, if Clark managed to keep him off his feet.

“Thanks, Clark,” said Billy, sounding a little uncomfortable. Like he knew Clark had used his x-ray vision to find them and made sure he got them for Billy?

“Oh, that’s great, Billy,” said Clark, as though he hadn’t.

“Boys,” said the Cleric, picking up a sphere about two and a half feet in diameter. “As it so happens, Clark also managed to send this sphere over to your collection zone.”

He lobbed it over towards Tim, who was a little worried about catching it, because all he knew about it was that so far it had only been handled by people with super strength, and it was big.

It wasn’t heavy, though. Opening it up, with Danny looking over his shoulder, Tim found a couple of inflatable sleeping pads for camping. 

“These’ll be nice,” he said. “Thanks, Clark.”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty to thank you boys for,” said Clark.

“All glory to Antantlous,” said the Cleric.

Wisely, perhaps, they all kept their mouths shut, not saying anything about how they wouldn’t need these things if Antantlous hadn’t abducted them.

It was a bit of a free-for-all after that, without specific attributions of who had delivered which sphere where. Tim and Danny got some water shoes, the better to not step on deadly cone snails or intensely painful stonefish in the ocean; a supply of water purification tablets, which they did have the opportunity to share with Clark and Billy; water bottles, already full of some ice cold sports drink; a jug; salt and pepper, also shared with Clark and Billy; a big pack of beef jerky; a bowie knife; Danny’s school backpack with his textbooks and binders, which had Danny huffing and saying, ‘might as well’; the tiniest of camp stoves, honestly too small for the size of pot they had, and a camp sized propane tank; and a deck of cards. 

Tim was pretty sure that propane tank and those text books were responsible for a couple of his bruises.

On the other side, Clark and Billy had received their own water bottles; a box of freeze-dried meals; a watermelon; a bunch of para-cord, which Clark split with them; the aforementioned music player, in this case a portable speaker with music preloaded; a collection of fifth grade textbooks and workbooks, which made Billy roll his eyes; a heavy duty flashlight; a hatchet; a tarp; and a collapsible fishing rod. 

After all was said and done, they were left with the task of carrying everything back to camp.

“Oh, well,” said Danny. “Guess I don’t need those text books, after all.”

“You sure a deck of cards is enough to keep you sane?” asked Tim.

Danny huffed.

It wasn’t like they had that much stuff to carry; they made good use of the para-cord to tie some of the bulkier items for easier carrying. They also brought along a few of Clark and Billy’s belongings, since Clark would once again be carrying Billy on his back. At the fork in the path, Clark made a show of taking on the extra burden, with Billy making noise about walking the rest of the way. Tim still wasn’t sure if Billy knew Clark was Superman, or not.

Clark kept Billy on his back.

“We did alright for ourselves,” said Tim as he and Danny were off on the path to their camp. “I’ll miss having you around, after tomorrow.”

“Ditto,” said Danny. “Just don’t watch anymore Avatar, without us.”

“Right back at you,” said Tim. “When we send Billy back, I think you can feel free to watch it without Clark and me, though.”

“Make sure Billy doesn’t stay up too late,” said Danny. “Kids his age still need a lot of sleep.”

“Make sure he eats his fruits and vegetables,” said Tim. “I think he ignores them if they’re not right in front of him.”

Danny finally laughed. “Are we co-parenting Billy, now?”

“It’ll be your custody time, soon enough,” said Tim.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Danny.

They arrived back at their camp to find that a part of their shelter had collapsed.

“No rest for the weary,” said Tim.

“Hey, at least it didn’t fall down last night,” said Danny.

So they spent a while fixing it up, making good use of the para-cord, while they were at it. Then, Tim found some straight-ish tree branches and made them a tripod for their water jug to hang from, and Danny went to go get them more water. It was time to make good use of the purification tablets, so they could focus instead on making lunch. More rice and beans, this time with beef jerky cooked in. 

They had received more rice and beans, but much less than the first batch they’d been given. Clearly, they were expected to forage, hunt, and fish to make up the difference. Tim wondered if they would even receive another ration supply tomorrow or not.

“The beans will take a while to cook,” said Tim.

“I remember,” said Danny, who had had lots to say about the cook time last night. “Maybe I’ll go wash off in the surf.”

“Someone needs to watch the food,” said Tim, “and we shouldn’t go into the water without a buddy.”

Danny huffed. “I can swim, you know.”

“It’s not about whether you can swim, or not. It’s about rip tides, and venomous fish, and the Tantalans springing traps on us.”

It took Danny a moment to ponder all that. “I was thinking…the Tantalans haven’t broadcast us bathing, or anything like that. So, I was thinking, if I skinny-dipped, then they wouldn’t broadcast my, um, scars.”

Tim frowned. Two nights before, they had changed with their backs to each other, and had not turned around until the Interviewer had intruded. Danny had been clutching his shirt to his chest, so while Tim had seen some concerning scarring on Danny, he had not gotten the full picture of what it was Danny was trying to hide.

As Tim considered all that, Danny said, “I’d say I could just not wash up for a week, but we are sleeping right next to each other.”

“Do you really think we can get through all this without your scars ever being revealed?” asked Tim.

“I can try,” said Danny. He looked like he knew he couldn’t go months without revealing his scars, but he also looked like the real answer was that he couldn’t not try.

Tim shook his head. “Anyway, there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t just ‘film’ you from the waist up, or wait until you’re covered by the water. Billy’s the only one of us who’s bathed so far, actually, so that’s a sample size of one. I don’t know that we can assume they actually are averse to showing us naked.”

Tim was very aware neither of them had bathed since before they had been abducted. They had both been planning to shower yesterday morning, but had instead been snatched up from their beds, and spent the rest of the day hiking and camping. They already smelled awful. 

“Well, hey, if I wash up in my clothes, then I’ll be washing my clothes at the same time.”

“I suppose so,” Tim said hesitantly, hoping Danny wasn’t planning to just never take his shirt off again, through the whole ordeal. “We’ll go wash up after lunch.”

He was very curious about what Danny was hiding. He assumed it directly related to whatever Danny’s whole deal was, but how much of that story would his scars actually tell? Or, was it just that he had been hiding them from his family, and didn’t want them to see? If that was the case, then it might be too late, with how much had already been shown on the broadcast.

At the end of the day, they were all going to have to make decisions on what they were willing to share, and what they weren’t. What they could reasonably be expected to be able to hide throughout this whole thing, and what they couldn’t. It was all the harder because they had so little power, and still did not have a good idea of what the Tantalans considered appropriate or inappropriate for broadcast. Maybe it was promising that the broadcast last night hadn’t shown Billy jumping out of the shower, during the whole debacle. Maybe it wasn’t. At the very least, the longer Clark and Tim could keep their respective secrets, the longer their families had to prepare for a possible reveal. The rest was…well, his dignity wasn’t just gravy, but it was less important than his family’s secrets.

“Hey, Clark, if I go get clean in the Ocean, would you stay here and not check on me?”

“Billy, you can’t even swim. There’s no way you’re going into the water without supervision.” 

“Well, I’m no teenager, but I’m going to get stinky eventually,” said Billy.

“Are you familiar with the concept of a rag bath?” asked Clark.

“I used to live on the street, and currently squat in an abandoned building,” said Billy. “Yes, I’m familiar with the concept.”

“Maybe you could go into the water with Tim or Danny, once our teams are dissolved.”

“And then they stopped talking about it,” said Billy.

Danny had been sensible and not asked Tim about Tim’s own scars when they went down to the water, later. Not that there wasn’t plenty Tim could have said about them. Oh, that’s when an assassin shot me on live television, oh that’s where they pulled out my infected spleen, oh that was from a kidnapping a couple years back, oh that’s from the Clench. Granted, Tim had a few too many scars to be considered perfectly reasonable (thanks Jason), and a number of them couldn’t possibly be explained away as lesions from the Clench. 

Tim lived in Gotham, though, and was very publicly a victim of a number of crimes. He was hopeful the public would not make too much of his scars.

Well. 

They’d make a lot of it, but hopefully would not come to the correct conclusion that Tim was a vigilante. The more he hid them, though, the more he called attention to it, and the more scrutiny would be paid to his scars when they were almost inevitably revealed. So, where Danny kept his undershirt and jeans on when they went in the water, Tim got down to his underpants. Because he had nothing to hide from the world.

Tim hoped Danny’s linear incision scars did not extend the full length of his body.

After they were done washing up the best they could, and had the obligatory splash fight, Tim went out into the jungle to look for fruit, since Clark had mentioned a mango tree, earlier, when they were swapping food stuffs. Danny had wanted to go with him, but Billy being incapacitated by improper footwear was already more than they needed. Danny getting chaffed all over by his salt water sodden clothes was very much not needed. Danny got sent to go dry off in the sun.

Tim didn’t find a mango tree, but he did find papayas and bananas, which was a pretty good score. The bananas were green, but people cooked with green bananas all the time. Tim was collecting his harvest into Danny’s backpack when he heard a noise behind him. One hand found a rock on the ground, as the other found his taser. 

He stood up and whirled around, just as a blur of orange, black, and white came upon him. His arm came up to block a blow of claws, his body bending backwards to ward off fang filled jaws. He fell on his back under the beast’s weight, claws swiping across his chest. The rock in his hand crashed into the thing’s head with twin roars from Tim and the beast, and it gave him the moment he needed to jab his taser into the thing’s neck. It collapsed on top of him.

Tim’s head fell down on the ground, his chest heaving for breath.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked.

“TIM!” 

Danny was crashing through the jungle towards him. Tim started scrambling out from under the stunned tiger. Danny slid in on his knees next to them, and started shoving on the tiger’s weight, helping Tim get out. 

“Oh, Ancients!” said Danny.

“Tigers are not even remotely native to Fiji!” was Tim’s strangled shout to the heavens, up on his knees.

The tiger was stirring.

“Okay,” said Tim. “Turn it to smoke. I beat it.”

“That’s a real tiger,” said Danny.

“Well, I beat it, so they can send it back to where they found it!”

It had come after them once, it could come after them again, the next time they were unprepared.

“Tim,” said Danny. 

“They’re an endangered species!” said Tim. “Just send it back to where it was minding its own business!”

“I really don’t want to kill a tiger,” said Danny.

Danny wasn’t the one who had gone out with their brand new bowie knife. Tim pulled it from its sheath as the tiger was starting to try to get to its feet. With a wordless howl, Tim buried the dagger just behind the thing’s skull. It stopped moving.

“Shit!” said Danny.

“What was the point of that?!” Tim cried out. “Really! What was the point of that?!” 

“Let’s um, let’s get you some first aid,” said Danny. 

“With what first aid supplies?” asked Tim. “I’m fine, anyway. Just some scrapes and bruises.” His cut proof shirt and body armor had done him a fair bit of good. He’d wait until the adrenaline wore off to see if he’d broken or sprained anything in his arm, blocking that blow. He was pretty sure he’d managed to tuck his head, and avoid a concussion during the fall.

“We should clean those up, anyway,” said Danny.

Tim nodded.

“And we can tear up your jacket for bandages, if we need it.”

“We don’t have the tools we’d need to tear apart my jacket for bandages.”

“We’d figure something out,” said Danny. 

“Also, everything’s filthy,” said Tim. 

“We’d boil the crap out of it.”

Tim huffed.

The both of them were still staring at the poor dead tiger.

“Why’d it have to be a tiger?” asked Danny. “Tigers are awesome. Giant kitty cats.”

“It’s messed up,” said Tim. 

“We…should we…butcher it?” asked Danny. He had a sick look on his face, and he wasn’t looking at the tiger.

Tim shrugged. He wasn’t exactly up to date on the laws of what you should do if you have to kill an endangered species in self-defense. 

“Ideally, they’d poof it back to where it came from, and let its body go back into its natural ecosystem,” he said. “Since it seems like they’re not going to do that…I guess that would be the respectful thing, so it doesn’t go to waste? More than it already has. But…I really don’t want to.”

Danny nodded beside him. “Okay. Let’s get you back to camp.”

Tim gave a nod. He put a hand on the beast’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “This wasn’t fair to you.”

Danny helped him up.

Clark had been an instant away from trying his damnedest to bust through the shield between them when Tim had felled the beast. If he had had an iota less faith in Red Robin, he would have done it the moment he realized what was going on.

Even their down time was deadly, now. And yet, the Tantalans had yet to give them a challenge they could not meet. They had not even given them a challenge that required an obvious use of a super power. Far from giving Clark any faith that this meant the Tantalan’s had no interest in exposing them, he worried they were simply waiting for the most cinematic moments for any big reveals.

“Did you hear that?” Clark asked.

“What?” asked Billy.

“It sounded like a big animal roar,” said Clark.

“What would an animal like that be doing on an island?” asked Billy.

“This isn’t a real island,” Clark reminded him.

Though it was an incredibly good facsimile.

“You’re shortening my leash, aren’t you?” Billy asked.

With a sigh, Clark nodded his head. 

“Lame,” said Billy.

“I’ve identified an incident where heat vision and super strength could be useful,” said Cyborg.

Bruce reviewed what the man sent him. A collapsed bridge in Mozambique with people trapped in vehicles pinned by bridge supports. 

“Let’s send her in,” said Bruce.

Their plan for covering up the fact that Superman, Captain Marvel, and Red Robin were off the playing field was multi-faceted. At times, Martian Manhunter would masquerade as either Superman or Captain Marvel, and at others they would use holograms in the sky, while Martian Manhunter was publicly elsewhere. In Gotham, all of the Bats were out in force, and Kon-El had taken a few turns masquerading as Red Robin, though mostly keeping to the shadows. Dick had also called a reporter Red Robin had been working with, masquerading as his brother.

There was nothing quite like a distinctly kryptonian power set for masquerading as Superman, though, and while Martian Manhunter was super strong, and could fly, he couldn’t use a careful blend of x-ray vision and heat-vision to surgically remove civilians from a collapsed super structure. Supergirl, however, could. Of course, Kara Zor-El shared little of her outward appearance with her cousin, but that was nothing a full body hologram could not handle, so long as she was careful. And Supergirl was a very careful hero.

Simultaneous to Supergirl’s mission, they would have a hologram of her be seen flying over Europe. It would hopefully be enough to squash speculation, though it was not as though the public was not aware of highly advanced hologram technology.

“Black Canary, do you have an update on our recruiting efforts?”

“Not much,” she replied. “Jay Garrick agreed to be on call for the next big event. Starman said he’d come out of retirement if the world was ending. Arrowette told me that if we actually needed her bow, we were already SOL. The other retired heroes I have on my list have made good on their threats to drop off the face of the Earth.”

“Hn,” said Bruce.

The threat was entirely undefined, only that one of four cities could be considered immune. Immune from what, they did not know. Whether those four cities would be the only ones in danger, they did not know. This could be a global threat they were about to deal with. Bruce wanted every available hero at least on call, if not on the streets or on the Watchtower for rapid deployment. Of course, the idea that this would just be yet another thing they could not combat was hanging over all of their heads. At the very least, heroes on the streets could help keep panic from spreading.

“I’ve activated the Sirens, in Gotham,” said Oracle. “Nightwing and Black Bat should be available for deployment elsewhere, if needed.”

“Anything else, before the broadcast starts?” asked Wonder Woman. 

“I’ve completed my analysis of the hostages,” said Cyborg. 

It had escaped no one’s notice that a number of powerful and controversial people had been abducted. This included politicians, businessmen, and royalty. 

“This was definitely targeted,” said Cyborg. “Granted, there were a number of individuals who we have no notable records for, but maybe we should. Everyone else that was taken is at least accused of something that could be classified as crimes against humanity. Politicians or soldiers that have authorized or taken part in war crimes; businessmen who have exploited third world countries, or exploited child labor; individuals suspected but not convicted of terrorism, serial murder, serial sex crimes. The Cleric Host noted that their god is also a god of judgment, and I think they very much cast judgement on these hostages.”

Aquaman hummed thoughtfully. “We’d had our eyes on the two Atlanteans who were taken,” he said, offering no further information. 

The countdown on the corner of their screens was counting out its last seconds. 

“Well, let’s hope that’s a trend that keeps up,” said Green Arrow, clapping his hands together.

“I’ll remind you my son was among the first four taken,” said Bruce. 

Oliver put his hands up placatingly, as the broadcast began, and Bruce’s information technology became reduced to tiny screens and printouts.

“Tonight, on Survivor: Our contestants go bowling for prizes, only they’re the pins.”

The scene cut to show the four abductees, standing on a hillside, dodging out of the way of yellow and green spheres, Billy on Clark’s back.

“Clark puts his Dad hat on with Billy.”

“Billy, you can’t even swim. There’s no way you’re going into the water without supervision.” 

“I found a first aid kit. Before we go anywhere, let’s take care of those feet of yours.”

“I can carry you.”

“Meanwhile, both Tim and Danny are very sure they’ll be sending the other one packing first.”

“We did alright for ourselves,” said Tim. “I’ll miss having you around, tomorrow.”

“Ditto,” said Danny. “Just don’t watch anymore Avatar, without us.”

“And Danny really wanted to drive a car.”

“Do you know how to drive stick? Because I can drive stick.”

“But he has very strong opinions on what’s supposed to happen on Survivor.”

What followed was a supercut of Danny making statements such as ‘If this was the actual Survivor,’ which without context made him look persnickety, but doubtless had more to do with the higher standards of treatment actual contestants on the show would actually receive.

“All this and much more, tonight, on Survivor!”

The last clip shown was that of a tiger prowling through the jungle.

“What the hell is a tiger doing there?” asked Hawkman. 

“A way to force them to openly use their abilities?” asked Wonder Woman.

Bruce growled. 

“A red herring, I hope,” said the Flash.

“At least no one’s canceled, tonight,” said Cyborg.

The broadcast went on, without any need for the Justice League to act on anything. As much as the ‘bowling’ challenge boiled Bruce’s blood, it was good to see them receive some creature comforts afterwards. Unfortunately, the Tantalans had the audacity to show Danny and Tim talking about how best to keep their scars private, and then showed them bathing in the ocean. They also showed Billy, with his shirt off, wiping a damp bandana under his arm. It begged the question of what the Tantalan’s would have done had any of them actually gone skinny-dipping.

Eventually, though, they showed what everyone was most anxious about. 

They watched the tiger be teleported in, nearby to where Tim was gathering fruit. Tim shouldn’t have been alone. He should have waited until Danny’s clothes were dry, to go out into the jungle together. Bruce stopped breathing when the beast pounced, and he didn’t start breathing again until the thing was dead.

“Yeah, Tim, what the hell was the point of that tiger attack?” asked Wally.

“Entertainment,” Diana said with derision.

When Bruce had lost Jason, he had been three minutes too late to safely evacuate him from the warehouse before it exploded. Of course, the Joker had had him for some time beforehand, and Bruce had been unaware. How he had cursed his ignorance, the fact that he had not been there; had not known what was happening to his son, when it was happening, so he could save him. But what new hell was this, able to see everything Tim was dealing with, in increasingly lethal challenges, but be entirely unable to intervene.

Was Bruce going to watch his son die live on television?

For a time, he watched intently as Danny helped tend to Tim’s wounds. Tim had not been entirely accurate in his assessment they had no first aid supplies, as there was a supply of aloe plants on the island, and Danny helped Tim apply the sap to his scrapes and bruises.

“On Survivor, they have a medical team to give first aid as soon as it’s needed,” said Danny.

“What’s their big cat policy, on Survivor?” asked Tim, making Danny huff in reply.

“Some would take the rest of the day off after a near miss with a tiger,” said the Game Master, “but Tim had a more practical approach.”

“I’ve figured out what we’re doing with the propane.”

“Um,” said Danny.

“Like I said, the pot’s too big to use with a stove that small. It’s not safe.”

“Some well placed rocks could fix that,” said Danny.

“Anyway, we’ll need a big stalk of bamboo, and some guava. I think we’re likely to find both on the island. There’s some phenols in the guava we can extract as an antimicrobial compound. Also, coconut husks can be fashioned into bandages, or even used as suture string. If they’re not going to give us a first aid kit, we’ll have to make our own.”

Bruce really hoped Tim was not going to do what he thought Tim was going to do with the propane.

“You sure you don’t want to rest for a while?” asked Danny. 

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” said Tim.

Bruce really would like Tim to not talk about his hypothetical death.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Danny.

“Besides, I should make good use of all this adrenaline before I crash. It would actually be worse for me to just let it sit in my body making my heart beat faster.”

“If you say so, dude. But if you’re planning to do what I think you’re planning to do with that propane, I’m double checking every part of your set up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tim.

“And I thought I was the mad scientist,” said Danny.

“Nothing mad about making an antimicrobial ointment,” said Tim. 

“I really hope you’re right about that,” said Danny. “I guess we’ll be wannabe Macguyvers.”

The broadcast transitioned to Clark hearing the tiger roar, and doing more parenting with Billy.

Bruce hoped that if Tim had blown himself up extracting compounds from a solution of guava pulp using propane, it would have already been foreshadowed in the preview.

In the end, though, Tim simply did not finish the rig before bed, that night, but both boys got to showcase some good ‘Macguyver’, or maybe mad science, skills. There was still time for him to blow himself up tomorrow.

“Man, being a completely human vigilante does a lot to your body,” said Tucker.

“Don’t stare,” said Jazz. “He didn’t consent to this video being taken.”

“We’re not supposed to watch, now?” asked Tucker.

Jazz huffed. “Obviously, things are happening in these broadcasts that are relevant to the world. And, most of what’s happening is relevant to us, because we’re Danny’s next of kin, basically. Timothy Drake-Wayne’s scars are not relevant to us, so we should not be speculating on them.”

“Fair enough,” said Sam.

“It is not very hygienic, though, to bathe in your clothes,” Frostbite mused. “The Great One should take better care of his human form."

Everyone ignored him.

They were still mad at him for how far off course he’d taken them, yesterday, leading them through a portal that had taken them pretty far afield. Either he really didn’t want to be in the same room as Clockwork, or he was really that worried Clockwork would send them to rescue Danny. During this broadcast, they were dead in space, because they were not letting Frostbite lead them again.

(Tumblr Post)

TheShapeOfButts

Image description: a screenshot of the Cleric Game Master from the first Atlas Broadcast with bold white bottom text “Okay, hear me out…”

FelixHawk

Fake monster fuckers say, hear me out, and then just post a picture of a conventionally attractive alien.

Narcissusreflection

Name one thing about these lizard people, bloodsport enthusiast, child kidnappers that is conventionally attractive.

GivePeasAChance

Well actually, statistically speaking, golf has a higher death rate than the Atlas Broadcast, so what’s really the blood sport?

JamesPattersonsGhostWriter

They literally sicked a tiger on a kid like they’re in the fucking coliseum. Don’t ‘well actually’ these awful broadcasts.

#Boycott the broadcasts everyone #Atlas Broadcast #If you think this shit is cool go ahead and unfollow me

…

(Twitter Posts)

@MarkCarmel

That #BillyBrat is so disrespectful. If I were Clark, I’d have already gotten a gotten a switch of bamboo to teach him some manners. 

#BillyBrat #AtlasBroadcast

@Akira42

Replying to @MarkCarmel

A child is mildly sassy in public.

Psychos on Twitter: Have you considered beating the child?

Honestly, Billy responds very well to Clark’s gentle parenting style. For real, why would anyone watch this and think that more violence in this kid’s life is going to solve anything.

#BillyBaby #AtlasBroadcast #ClarkKent

@NanananananananananananananananaBatman

Replying to @MarkCarmel

A clearly traumatized child has trouble trusting an adult, surely this will be solved if the adult beats him. /s

#Child abuse #BillyBatson #ClarkKent #AtlasBroadcast

@JennyRaine

A freakin tiger???

#AtlasBroadcast #TimDrakeWayne

Chapter Text

(Podcast)

“You want to talk about what’s wrong with men these days, we have this young man, Tim Drake, in his hypothetical prime-”

“Bro, he’s sixteen.”

“Everything going for him-”

“You peak at sixteen, you done fucked up!” 

“Everything going for him, but he’s this progressive, soy boy, intellectual, in this survival situation, who won’t even butcher an animal, because his feelings got hurt.”

-Laughter-

“Bro, I think you can cut him a little slack. He literally killed a tiger in close combat. Like. Pretty manly, to me.”

“Dude, he didn’t want to kill it. He was hungry, it tried to eat him, but he still wanted an out. And don’t get me started on this hyper-shy Fenton kid!”

…

(CNN)

“The FAA continues to ground all flights with video capable instrument panels during the timeframe of the broadcast, causing severe global disruptions in travel and shipping. However, insiders have indicated that soon, two lists will be released by the FAA. One, indicating planes with instrument panels that are either non-essential or can be excluded from the broadcast with a larger screen present in the cockpit, which will be allowed to resume all flight during the broadcasts. The second list indicating planes whose cockpits can easily be modified to circumvent the issue. All other planes already under the ban would need to be reviewed on a case-by-case basis by the FAA. Meanwhile, pilots can also expect guidance concerning protocols for dealing with the broadcast, should flying with it active in the cockpit be unavoidable. 

“We go now, live, to our correspondent Faith Bendis, who has been speaking with local hospital employees about how the broadcasts have been impacting care in medical settings.”

…

(.jpg)

Image Description: A still image from the third day of the alien broadcast showing the tiger stalking Tim Drake moments before it pounced. The tiger is photoshopped to be wearing a red cassock and cap. A caption at the bottom reads ‘No one expects the Siberian Tiger!’

…

(Tumblr Post)

todorokishairdo

Broadcast Food Source Confirmed

You guys! It happened at the restaurant I work at!

I work at a restaurant in Fawcett, and yesterday, a bunch of entrées disappeared in a flash of light. Guess who ate our carbonara last night!

peaceliquorandrocksarolling

What restaurant?

—

todorokishairdo

Woah I’m not doxing myself.

—

captainluffi

Pretty sure you already have…

…

(Instagram)

Gif Description: A clip of the Arrested Development, Never-Nude episode, ‘There are dozens of us! Dozens!’ scene. The clip has been edited to have Danny’s head over Tobias’s.

…

(Youtube)

Deceptive Editing - Why we were all ready to cancel Clark Kent

…

(Twitch)

“They all have secrets! What are Danny’s scars hiding? What was Billy hiding from on the streets? What is Clark Kent hiding behind his meek personality? And who knows what skeletons a billionaire is hiding in his closet…”

…

(Newsweek)

Board Game Sales Soar as Parents Look for Screen Alternatives

…

(OAN)

“These aliens say, ‘Play my game,’ and these supposed powerful dangerous guys all just say, ‘sir, yes, sir.’ It’s pathetic, and frankly un-American…”

…

(Clickbait Article)

Survival experts on twitter weigh in, what the Contestants are doing right, and what they’re doing wrong. First we’ll take a look at the green team’s camp…

…

(Youtube)

“Now, a tiger, weighing around four hundred pounds, striking with it’s paw with a force of thousands of pounds, can be expected to do some serious damage to the arm of a teenaged boy. Careful analysis of the video shows how Tim Drake-Wayne intentionally falls back, starting to pull him back from the tiger’s optimal striking range, and how his arm blocked the swipe in a way that distributed the force in a way that prevented catastrophic damage. Then, let’s talk about a tiger’s claws, and how strong that body armor is. You guys, Wayne Tech body armor is no joke…

…

(AO3)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Underage, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Category: M/M

Fandom: Atlas Broadcast RPF

Relationships: Danny Fenton/Tim Drake-Wayne, Clark Kent & Billy Batson

Characters: Danny Fenton, Tim Drake-Wayne, Clark Kent, Billy Batson, Cleric Gamemaster #2, The Tiger

Additional Tags: Third Day of the Broadcast, ghostly-business, sex after a near death experience, what happened after the tiger attack

Language: English

Stats: Published: 2024-08-31, Completed: 2024-08-31, Words: 3,385, Chapters: 1/1, Comments: 7, Kudos: 199, Bookmarks: 92, Hits: 3430

Love and Survival in the Jungle

maiwritesyaoi

Summary: When Danny realizes that Tim had to fight for his life away from him, Danny knows that he never wants Tim to leave his side again. He’s going to make sure Tim knows that, one way or another…

—

Comments: 

bloatedtoaded

Hey, you know these are actual, real people, right? Real children?

maiwritesyaoi

Yeah, my guy, that’s what RPF means…

…

(.jpg)

Image Description: Image of a toddler in a tuxedo, likely at a wedding. Text identifies the baby as Billy Batson. The baby is pointing at the ground, with a serious expression on his face. Top text says: I WANT TWO SHELTERS. Bottom text says: AND I WANT THEM NOW!

…

(TMZ)

Interview with Jeff Probst about the Newest Survivors!

‘Danny is right,’ says Probst. ‘Proper shoes are a must on Survivor.’

Plus, how the contestants’ camps compare to real survivor camps from years gone by.

And, Survivors who have actually tried to be mad scientists in the jungle!

…

(Twitter Post)

@DoctorTom

(Part 1 of 12) Billy Batson presents as an emotionally intelligent, able, even headed child, who has chosen to live on the streets for over a year.

#AtlasBroadcast #BillyBatson #AtlasTrauma #PsychoanalyzingAtlas

@DoctorTom

(Part 2 of 12) Billy also presents with numerous indications of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He has a history of over five years in foster care. So, let’s talk abuse in state care.

#AtlasBroadcast #BillyBatson #AtlasTrauma #PsychoanalyzingAtlas

@DoctorTom

(Part 3 of 12) The statistics are more than concerning…

 

…

(Podcast)

“You’ve heard of high school dropouts. Get ready for elementary school dropouts! I just can’t get over, they’re all looking at this brat who ran away from a safe home to live on the streets, not been in school for a year, cooing about oh your poor thing. How much you must have suffered for your own choices and actions. Let me make it all better now.”

“Right, the coddling of future criminals of America…”

Danny woke up first, the next morning. One minute he’d been strapped down on that table, and the next he’d been lying down in their shelter next to Tim. It was way too early to be awake, but Danny was not going back to sleep. The exit to the shelter was on the other side of Tim, though, and Danny wasn’t going to phase through anything, so he just laid there. 

Admittedly, he was brooding.

Better to brood about everything Tantalan, instead of dwelling on his dream.

It hadn’t been a dream, was the thing.

It was a while before Tim stirred. He had eventually crashed hard the day before, after his run-in with the tiger.

“No hard feelings?” Danny asked, because today was most likely the day they’d be doing the elimination challenge. Assuming they did the vote the same day, one of them would be losing today.

“The only hard feelings I have are for whoever decided coffee shouldn’t be a part of our rations,” said Tim. 

“Addict,” said Danny.

“Shut up,” said Tim. 

“Got any jungle medicine for a withdrawal headache?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Tim, massaging his temples.

“Maybe we’ll find some guarana,” said Danny.

“That’s the Amazon,” said Tim.

“Oh yeah, are mangos native to Fiji?”

“Mmm. Yeah, okay, maybe we could find some guarana,” said Tim. “Or, heck, we could even find some coffee cherries.”

“Yeah, you’re an addict.”

“Shut up. It’s jungle time.”

“A junkie on the prowl for his next fix,” said Danny.

“Some hard feelings, right now,” said Tim.

“You want freeze-dried breakfast bowl, or freeze-dried beans and toast?”

“That can’t be a thing,” said Clark.

“Which one?” asked Billy. “But they’re both very real.”

“Freeze-dried beans and toast,” said Clark.

“Don’t English people eat that?” asked Billy.

“They do, but I can’t quite imagine it being freeze-dried,” said Clark.

Billy walked over and dropped the pouch on the man’s lap. “Wanna find out?”

It was good to see him walking around without much discomfort. Between resting his feet yesterday and the new boots, Billy’s feet were on the mend.

“I suppose so,” said Clark, peering through the mylar to see what he was dealing with. It didn’t help very much.

“I still can’t believe they’re going to throw the game,” said Billy, sounding exasperated as he reached out for a piece of firewood.

“There’s enough wood on the fire,” Clark admonished. Billy tossed it aside with a put-upon expression on his face. “And…Billy, I think it’s clear you’ve been failed by a number of the adults in your life.”

“Ooookay?”

“But, believe it or not, it’s normal to want to protect young children. And, like it or not, you are a young child.”

“Hm,” said Billy. “Would you say it’s natural, too?”

“Billy.”

“That is to say, it’s…” Billy trailed off leadingly.

“Brat,” Clark said affectionately.

“And proud of it,” said Billy. He sat up to peer into the pot. “Do you think it’s ready?”

“Just wait for it to boil,” said Clark. 

“But I’m hungry now,” said Billy, clearly just whining for the sake of whining.

Clark tossed him a mango.

Billy shrugged and took a big bite out of it, before spitting it back out to bite the flesh away from the peel, which he tossed into the fire.

“Mmm. Silver linings, and all, I can’t remember the last time I had fresh mango before I came here.”

“I’m glad you’re finding silver linings,” said Clark.

“You finding any silver linings?” asked Billy.

“Well, I got to meet you,” said Clark.

Billy gave him a dirty look. “Don’t go getting all sappy with me.”

“Never,” said Clark.

Apparently, Tim not letting Danny drive, again, was ‘bourgeois tyranny.’ 

“I don’t think it’s an option to just not play today,” said Danny on the ride over. “We just need to play badly.”

“I think you’re right,” said Tim. A lack of rations could be the least of their worries.

“And just hope we won’t be penalized for playing badly on purpose,” said Danny.

Tim sighed in thought. 

“Should we just focus on getting Billy out of here?” asked Danny. “I mean, after that tiger…”

“Clark’ll keep him safe in the meantime,” said Tim.

Danny nodded. “He’s pretty solid, huh.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Tim. “I think it’s true, that you don’t really know someone until you see them in a crisis.”

“Well, the whole world must know all of us really well by now,” said Danny.

“I wasn’t trying to talk about that,” said Tim. “But, yeah.”

“Yeah, I know, what’s the point in talking about it over and over again?”

“Danny, gripe about whatever you need to gripe about, man,” said Tim. “I mean it.”

They drove in silence for a while.

“You know, Tim, you should be careful. Because I can gripe a lot,” said Danny. 

“What do you usually gripe about?” asked Tim, and then they both braced themselves as the ground got rockier, and they bounced around.

“Oh, man, teachers, am I right?” said Danny.

“You are so right, and you should write a book about it,” said Tim.

“Oh, Tim, you know there’s a first aid kit in the trunk, right?” Clark said to Tim the moment he saw them, looking at some scrapes on Tim’s hands.

“Are you for real?” asked Danny, going to look.

Billy didn’t see what exactly happened when Danny opened up the trunk of the Jeep, but the flash of white light kind of gave it away.

“Clark, you spoke too soon,” said Danny, empty handed.

“I hope you weren’t injured too badly, yesterday,” said Clark.

Tim waved his concern away. “I’m just a little banged up. And we’ll be fine without the first aid kit. We’re working on alternatives,” said Tim.

“Yes, we saw,” said Clark. “I do have some concerns, though.”

Clark never got a chance to talk it out with them, because that was when CAN5 decided to show up and bother them.

“Good morning, Contestants!”

No one wished him good morning back.

“Well, you all had an eventful day, yesterday.”

“That tiger had no business being here,” said Tim.

“Yeah!” said Billy, furious about it all over again. “Why couldn’t you take the tiger away, instead of making them kill it? They’re an endangered species! You guys are jerks.” He shouldn’t be thinking about Tawky Tawny at a time like this, but…

He was.

“This tiger was already a man-eater,” said CAN5, waving their concerns away. “A hunting party had been dispatched to hunt it down.”

“And that made it okay to sic it on Tim?” said Clark. “It’s a miracle he was not grievously wounded or killed.”

“I told you, you lot are a different breed,” said CAN5. “Now, as for our game, today! Perhaps you are right, and we have been too physically demanding of you, too quickly. For today, how about a more cerebral game?”

This was anti-Billy discrimination.

They followed CAN5 down a short path, until the day’s challenge was revealed. It was…some sort of hex grid. 

“Oh,” said Danny. “Assuming no awful twists-” (Billy would assume no such thing) “-this should be fine?”

The awful twist was fire.

They all started on different tiles. Every time they moved to another tile, they flipped the one behind them so it couldn’t be used again. Only, once flipped over, the tile caught on fire. So. That wasn’t great. But, the flames weren’t too high, and the whole platform was over a pond, so you could just jump in, if worst came to worst.

Plus, Tim and Danny would be losing on purpose, like a couple of schmucks, so.

Anyway, you lost when you got blocked off from moving to another tile; the idea being that you would try to block off the other team while leaving yourself open. Tim and Danny took about ten moves each to throw the game, which was probably a few moves too few, but they both made a show of playing the game. No one got burned; it was just a little uncomfortable, in the end.

Like it wasn’t hot enough, there had to be fire.

“I hope you guys know what you’re doing,” said Billy, drenched in perspiration once it was over, and they’d been transported back to the amphitheater.

“I guess we’ll see,” said Tim.

“With the Green Tribe’s poor showing, Yellow Tribe has won immunity from the upcoming Tribal Council,” said CAN5. “Soon, either Danny or Tim will be leaving Survivor. They will each have to wait and see if their gamble has paid off, when we convene again for our first Tribal Council.”

“When ex-” Clark started to say, when CAN5 disappeared. 

“Now that would be telling,” Danny mocked in his best CAN5 voice.

“Apparently,” said Clark.

Tim filled them in on his phenol extraction plan on the walk back to their respective camps.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Clark. “I’m not sure if your risk-reward assessment really balances out, though.”

“We’re doing it outside, so risk is minimal,” said Tim. “And the last thing we need is a gangrene infection.”

“Yes,” said Billy, “this is the best way to prevent gangrene. Not the soap and water we already have.”

“Cleaning a wound is only the first step. You have to keep it clean, and that’s not easy, out here,” said Tim.

“We can see about converting some fishing hooks to suture needles when we combine our camps,” said Clark, “but hopefully we won’t need that.”

“Don’t jinx us, Clark,” said Tim.

Tim could be surprisingly superstitious at times. Though, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising when Zatanna was his dad’s ex, one of his BFFs was a daughter of Zeus, and they’d been abducted by an alien god. Perhaps, at some point, superstition just became common sense. 

“Should we be doing anything like what they’re doing?” asked Billy, once they had parted ways.

“Trying to blow ourselves up?” Clark quipped.

“No,” said Billy, rolling his eyes. “More survivalist stuff.”

“We should put the fishing rod to use,” said Clark. “Maybe put aside little bits of our lunch, and use them as bait.”

“Weren’t you going on about venomous fish?” asked Billy.

“As long as we don’t catch a blue-ringed octopus, we’ll be fine,” said Clark. “If we catch a lion fish or stone fish, we can just cut the spines off.”

“We shouldn’t eat any cephalopods,” said Billy. “They’re too smart.”

Clark nodded. “Agreed. And, Billy, I really want us to stick together, today. Now that we know about that tiger attack-”

“Poor tiger,” said Billy.

“And poor Tim,” said Clark. “That could have been much worse. Now that we know they can sic megafauna on us at any time, I want you nearby at all times.”

“What about the bathroom?”

“You can have relative privacy, without me being more than a stones throw away.”

Said Clark, like he couldn’t throw a rock all the way around the world. Of course, if some lion attacked Billy, Clark wouldn’t be able to intervene without displaying super speed or something, unless he was right there. 

Not for the first time, Billy considered that maybe he should just transform into Captain Marvel. Sure, he’d have to give up his life as Billy. Maybe have to give up his spot on the Justice League. He didn’t know what the Justice League would do. 

In the moment, to deal with Antantlous, even if the god was much stronger than Captain Marvel, it would be the responsible thing to do. But, afterwards…

Billy didn’t know who he would be, without his civilian life.

He couldn’t let himself become another Black Adam.

Bruce opened his eyes, staring sightlessly at his bedroom ceiling, his head already a rush of thoughts from an idea that had come to him in his sleep. 

Would the abductees chances of survival rise if they were not shackled by their secret identities? There were pros and cons. Yes, they could respond to any threat with maximum efficiency, but the Tantalans would doubtless simply raise the threat level of every challenge. Perhaps even punish them for spoiling their plans. It was a mad thought; Tim and Clark were both parts of interconnected chains that could potentially unmask a score of other heroes. To say nothing of the fact that they were the ones with boots on the ground, the best able to make those decision. 

A flight of fancy. 

Barbara had texted him. 

‘New development. Low priority’

Hm. 

A low priority was better than mad ideas his exhausted and troubled mind had come up with as he lay sleeping. Bruce made his way to the Batcave. Alfred would disapprove, but bring him breakfast regardless. 

Well. Alfred would be happy when Tim returned home. He should be happy Bruce had slept at all. 

Once downstairs, Bruce opened the packet Barbara had sent him at 5:12 AM. 

It was regarding Billy. Barbara had tracked what remained of his movements in Fawcett via surveillance footage. She had found little of note. Fawcett was notable as the least surveilled metropolitan city in America. Mostly she had found clips of him walking down random streets, with too little data to extrapolate his destinations or activities, with one exception. 

Semi-regular visits to the Fawcett Central Library, where he would log into one of the public computers and maintain a blog. 

“My, and what fascinating reading has brought you to the cave so early?” asked Alfred, who had come up from behind him. Bruce could smell coffee and fruit. 

“Billy Batson had mentioned aspirations of journalism,” said Bruce. “It seems he was already on his way. He had been documenting systemic issues in Fawcett, and in the greater Philadelphia area.”

Alfred said nothing for a moment, likely reading over Bruce’s shoulder. 

“His prose is a tad juvenile, but very well developed for his age.”

“It is not an activity you would expect of most homeless eleven year olds,” said Bruce.

“Indeed,” said Alfred. “A very conscientious young man.” 

“I will need to look into it further, but I believe there may be a correlation between the issues Billy writes about, and the issues that Captain Marvel addresses.”

“I see,” said Alfred. “And this will help bring young master Tim home?”

Of course, the answer was no. 

Mostly no. Determining if Billy was Captain Marvel could impact future rescue plans. But, there was a reason Barbara had noted this as low priority.

“The other young masters have already had their breakfast,” said Alfred, setting a tray by Bruce. 

“I will check on them, soon,” said Bruce.

“That would be good of you, sir,” said Alfred.

…

“I miss him,” said Bruce.

“Indeed,” said Alfred. 

It burned, to be able to see him, to hear him, every night, but to be so far removed from him. To see him in peril, and be absolutely powerless to help him. To know that, if Tim had been targeted for being ‘dangerously powerful,’ it was because Bruce had helped train him to be. To worry that that training may not be enough to keep him alive.

“However much we miss him,” Alfred went on, “we must still eat our fill.”

“Hn.”

Alfred set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

The extraction went off okay, later that evening. Tim got sprayed in the face with a little propane, but that was fine. Nothing exploded or caught on fire, because Tim was careful. 

In the end, they had needed to cut into the tiger, to make use of its intestines as tubing. Danny had no stomach for it. He stayed nearby, but he kept his back to the process the whole way through. Tim almost regretted it, considering that with Danny’s scars, he could well have a very good reason to be squeamish about cutting into a carcass. But with food running low, and them not knowing how long it would be until the ‘tribal council', they’d need the meat, anyway.

It had been longer than was ideal, for them to butcher the tiger, especially in a tropical climate, but with the body relatively intact and no insects, the meat had stayed relatively fresh. Then, Danny, at least, had been willing to cook it, while Tim processed the intestines for his project, going so far as to set up a very basic smoking apparatus to try to preserve some of the meat.

At the end of the day, though, they had full bellies, and a supply of antimicrobial aloe gel, which was being stored in a coconut shell Danny had processed for them. Danny had also, true to his word, double checked everything about Tim’s extraction rig, before giving the go-ahead for its use. 

Tim was glad Danny hadn’t put up more of a fight about the whole thing. Sure, Tim could have told him about the whole not-having-a-spleen thing, but that would A: involved telling the whole world, and B: probably start a lot of fussing over Tim, which could lead to C: Danny convincing the others to vote Tim out for his own health. 

It was fine. Tim had only had a couple months left on his antibiotics regimen. His immune system had probably already adjusted to his lack of a spleen. Really, it was just a good idea to have an antibiotic ointment, in general. 

Danny said that if the tribal council was held that day, it would likely be after dark, under torch light, so Tim had not felt too anxious about putting off washing up until sunset, when they still had twilight. Danny, who still insisted on keeping his clothes on, refrained, since he wouldn’t be able to dry off in the sun, this time. Instead, he came along to keep watch, and tend to a torch they’d brought along, just in case they needed to navigate their way back in the dark.

“Do you think I could wash up in the dark?” Danny asked. 

“That would be super unsafe,” said Tim. “If something happened to you in the water, I wouldn’t be able to see where you were. Besides, that footage they showed of Clark checking on you guys in the middle of the night was crystal clear, even though it was dark.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. 

Tim hesitated before asking, “Are you planning to shower with your clothes on, when we get back?”

“Maybe I am,” said Danny.

“I don’t know how sustainable-”

“I can try, can’t I? Am I allowed to try?”

“Of course you’re allowed to try, but you wouldn’t be able to change your clothes, afterwards, either. You’re bound to get a skin condition, or something.”

He could change an old shirt under a new shirt, and change his socks, but that would be it. Sure, there was the towel method, but Tim wouldn’t be surprised if the clerics would think it funny to make the towel slip and fall off.

“Then I’ll just use a wet cloth, or something,” said Danny.

Tim sighed. He wished he could ask Danny what it was he was hiding with his scars, but of course he couldn’t ask that. It was bad enough he was calling more attention to it now.

At the end of the day, though, Tim didn’t think Danny’s efforts would amount to much. He could get stinky(er), let his clothes deteriorate, catch a fungal infection. They had as much privacy as the Tantalan’s allowed them, and it was clear they found Tim and Danny’s scars entertaining. It was probably only a matter of time before Danny’s secret was plain to the whole world.

His parents would recognize his scars, was the thing. They’d realize that Danny was Phantom, and either they’d be horrified and haunted by what they’d done to their son, or they wouldn’t. Either outcome felt sickeningly awful. Nothing could ever be… be normal again, if they found out. Everything would be broken beyond repair.

Danny just wanted things to go back to how they were. He didn’t know how they could, but he had to try. His family was the most important thing to him. He’d seen what he could become without them. He loved them. He just…he had to hold on. 

Things would get better.

Somehow.

“Well, here we are,” said Sam. “The Long Now.”

“You don’t have to go in,” said Frostbite.

Everyone ignored him.

They also didn’t move towards the door of the speeder.

Jazz sighed and got up. “He can’t be that scary, if Danny’s friends with him.”

“You haven’t seen him gleefully swing a scythe at someone,” said Tucker.

“Well, either way,” said Jazz, walking to the speeder door and through.

The place certainly was foreboding, but most things in the ghost zone were. Jazz walked right up to the big double doors, aware that the others were following her. The doors opened just as she was about to knock.

“I’ve been expecting you,” said a baby.

“You didn’t say he was a baby,” Jazz told the others, looking over her shoulder.

“Oh my god, Jazz,” said Tucker.

“I’m older than your planet, child,” said the now old man.

He was a ghost. Jazz needed to stop thinking of him in human terms.

“If you’ve been expecting us,” said Sam, “does that mean you’re ready to help us get Danny back?”

“Now why would I do that?” asked Clockwork.

“Because he’s in trouble,” said Tucker.

“That is a common state of being for him.”

“Do you know what’s already happened to him?!” asked Jazz. “He’s…he’s beyond his ability to cope.”

“Well, then it’s good he’s not alone,” said Clockwork.

“So, what, you’re saying he’s going to be fine, so you’re not going to do anything?” asked Sam.

“Well, I never said that,” said Clockwork.

“That he’s going to be fine, or that you're not going to do anything?” asked Jazz.

“Time is moving as it should,” said Clockwork, now appearing as a physically imposing man. “As the world is far from ending, I’ll have no reason to attempt to intervene. Really, you should have known my answer before coming here.”

“You’ve let Danny travel through time, before,” said Sam. “Why not interfere, now?” 

“Oh? So you can keep the status quo? So that Daniel can stagnate? Time is change, young lady. Will you come to me every time you think he’s ‘beyond his ability to cope?’”

“Look,” said Jazz. “I know things can’t go back to the way they were. I…I know things have to change. But we could change things before…”

“Before your parents tortured him,” said Clockwork.

“Yes!”

“You are living in the past, Jazmine.”

“I’m not!”

“Really? And if I sent you into the past, two months ago, would you encourage your brother to come out to your parents, in the hopes that they would never harm him as Phantom?”

“I…”

“You should return home, now,” said Clockwork. “You will see, soon enough.”

“See what?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, the whole world’s seeing too much!” said Tucker.

“Stagnation,” Clockwork said in judgement. He tapped his hand to his staff. “Time out!”

And then they were back in the Specter Speeder.

“I hate when he does that!” said Sam.

“I should have grabbed some time medallions when I had the chance,” said Tucker.

“You only had the chance last time, because he let you,” said Sam.

“You don’t know that,” said Tucker.

Jazz turned to Frostbite. “You know, you could have had our backs in there.”

“And said what?” asked Frostbite. “Clockwork’s machinations are nearly inconceivable. How am I to argue with a being like that, who would already know my arguments and have already made their decision.”

“Whelp, we’re zero for two,” said Tucker. “Should we go to Pandora? Or Dora?”

“What are they going to do?” asked Sam.

“Muster an army,” said Tucker.

“And send it where?” asked Frostbite.

“You could help us with the where,” said Tucker.

“We should get you back to Earth,” said Frostbite. 

“What are we going to see there?” asked Jazz.

Frostbite shifted uncomfortably. “I suspect it will be as Clockwork said. The Great One’s life will change in a way that it cannot return back from.”

Okay, well, yes. Things needed to change. But not like this! 

Clockwork said that things were moving along as they should, but this wasn’t okay. How could it ever be? 

There was no ‘tribal council’ that same night. Instead, it was held at noon, the next day. 

Clark was a little worried about it. He and Billy had talked about the vote, and hadn’t come to an agreement. Clark was very worried about just what might happen if there was a tie, and the Tantalan’s needed a tie breaker. Ideally, they’d just eliminate both boys, but Clark thought the chances of that happening were vanishingly small.

Danny and Tim were there, already, when Billy and Clark arrived. The both of them looked somber, and Danny was fidgeting with the buttons of Tim’s jacket. 

“I hope you guys stayed dry, last night,” said Tim.

“We did,” said Clark. “For the most part.”

“Looks like you two didn’t blow yourselves up,” said Billy.

“Nah, we managed okay,” said Danny.

“Indeed, you did,” said CAN5, showing up. “In spite of your dreadful performance during the challenge, yesterday, you made good use of your time, securing needed supplies, and not letting the tiger carcass go to waste.”

“Can’t believe you ate the tiger,” Billy grumbled. 

Clark winced. Billy clearly cared a lot about the animals, but had been oddly tight lipped about it, when Clark had raised the subject with him last night.

“Well,” said Tim. “We were hungry.”

Billy was still scowling at him, and Clark wondered if this would cement his decision on the vote.

“Contestants, survivors, I have convened this Tribal Council today, so that we may say goodbye to one of your fellow competitors. Yesterday, Clark and Billy won the immunity challenge in a decisive victory, achieving immunity from today’s vote. Tim and Danny, having decided to take charge of Billy’s fate, instead, are both eligible to be voted off the island. All four of you will be voting, today, to see which one that will be. Tim, is there anything you would like to say to your fellow competitors, about how they should vote?”

Tim sighed, and nodded. “Clark, Billy. I’m sorry you’re both in this position. I know that none of us want to be at odds with each other, and I’m sure that no matter what happens, there won’t be any hard feelings. Each one of us has to do what we feel is right, and there’s not likely going to be a clearcut answer for what right is. I have two reasons I think you should vote to keep me on the island. The first is practical. Since arriving here, I have provided protective clothing to my fellow contestants, and spearheaded a project to build up needed first aid supplies. Danny was a big help in that project, but it was my project, and I have further plans to ensure we’re well taken care of for the remainder of our time here. I would also like to point out, that, whichever one of us stays here today, may win. I don’t know which of us may have the higher chance of it. But, one of us may win. Gotham city has a population of eight and one quarter million people. I would be very surprised if Amity Park has even one million people in it. I cannot tell you that any one person in Gotham is worth more or less than one person in Amity Park. But I can tell you that there are a lot more of them. If only by numbers, I believe I should stay on the island, so that we can have a higher chance of protecting more people.”

Danny stood up. “Man, spoken like a real CEO, huh?” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Billy’s laugh might have been out of pity.

“Um, we all want the same thing here. To get out of here, and keep people safe, in the meantime. And, yeah, we want to keep our hometowns safe, more than each other’s. Just…I’m not out here taking risks. It was Tim’s plan to throw the immunity challenge, and I basically had to go along with it. Tim’s plan to use propane in a really not safe way. He’s gambling, and I don’t think that’s what we need when we’re out here with deadly challenges every other day. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Tim.

“Anyway, yeah. Voting to keep me on the island is a vote for, um, a solid guy. Who won’t take risks unless he has to.”

Honestly, even Danny didn’t look like he believed that assessment of himself.

“Alright,” said the cleric. “With that, we will begin. Tim, who are you voting for?”

“Why bother? Whatever. Danny.”

“Danny?” asked the cleric.

“First of all, it’s supposed to be an anonymous vote,” he said. 

“Then you would not like to cast one?”

“I vote for Tim. Obviously.”

“Clark?”

Clark sighed. “I vote for Danny,” he said. “I’m sorry, Danny, but the numbers issue cannot be overstated.”

Danny nodded, worrying at the hem of his shirt.

“Billy?”

Billy was glaring at the ground. “You’re both cool,” he said. “Even if you think I need a babysitter, or whatever. I’ve gotta think of Fawcett first. I think Tim’s the bigger threat to me winning, so. I vote for Tim.”

Well, gosh darn it.

“And so we have a tie,” said the cleric. “Danny, Tim, you both have a reprieve. We will meet again at sunset. Behave yourselves, now. We wouldn’t want one of you to be disqualified before the tie breaker.”

“Again, we’re not-”

The cleric disappeared.

“Sociopaths,” said Danny. “They’re sociopaths, thinking any of this is okay.”

“No hard feelings?” asked Tim.

“No hard feelings,” said Danny. “I mean, plenty of hard feelings to the clerics.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have made it a tie,” said Billy, who had been biting his lip up til then.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” said Danny. 

“I hope…” Clark said, but reconsidered with a sigh. “We’ll see what this tie breaker is.”

“You got the inside scoop, Danny?” asked Tim.

“Mm. The only ties I’ve seen got resolved by a revote,” said Danny. “I think I heard they’ve had contestants draw stones out of a bag until they draw the wrong color stone?”

“I kind of doubt they’ll leave it to random chance,” said Tim.

“No hard feelings if we have to beat-”

“Nope!” Clark interjected. “No putting ideas into their heads.”

“I doubt they need any help from us,” said Billy. “They already made us kill a tiger.”

Yeah, Clark was thinking Billy would be holding onto that one for a while. 

Billy was pretty sure that if he had been Captain Marvel, he wouldn’t have voted for Tim, even if only to avoid a tie. The Wisdom of Solomon would have probably also been whispering in his ear about the whole numbers issue, too. So, what did it say about him that he had gone against what he knew to be the right choice?

He wanted to protect Fawcett, though, and he stood by what he said. Whatever Danny’s deal was, Tim was Red Robin, and Billy wasn’t going to bet against that.  

Danny had, what? Super strength? Super endurance? When Danny had offered to carry Billy up that hill, Billy had expected him to give up half way through, but he hadn’t. His arms wrapped around Danny’s chest, Billy had felt his surprisingly slow heart rate. 

And what did that have to do with ghosts? If he were Captain Marvel, he’d have probably figured Danny out by now. 

But it was besides the point. If any mortals could go toe to toe with a powerful meta, it was a Bat. 

“Man, we should have been using this time to combine our camps,” said Danny. 

Not that they were doing nothing. They weren’t completely breaking down camp, just in case the Tantalans threw them a curve ball, but they were gathering things together. Rolling up their sleeping pads. Putting things in Danny’s stupid school backpack, with Danny’s stupid homework, which he’d actually done some of. 

“I hope you’ll be okay on your own, tonight,” said Tim. 

Tim was probably just joking about assuming he would be the winner, but Danny still felt his cheeks blush, and he blurted out, “What are you trying to say?”

Tim paused, behind him. 

“Wait, are you still embarrassed about this morning?”

A little. 

It had poured rain for a while last night, and while they’d managed to stay surprisingly dry, it had gotten pretty chilly. Danny had woken up glommed onto Tim, who had apparently been chill about it. 

“Literally don’t worry about it.”

Easy for Tim to say, he didn’t still go to high school. 

Tim came and sat down across from him. 

“We’re both going to do whatever it takes to win this tie breaker,” he said. 

Would Danny? He certainly wasn’t planning to transform into Phantom and curb stomp Tim. Though, his gut twinged guiltily at the thought. He was supposed to give his all to defend Amity. He just couldn’t do that, though, if he got himself locked up in a GIW lab. 

He told himself that wasn’t just an excuse. 

“Obviously,” he said to Tim, in spite of his thoughts. 

Besides, he had a few tricks up his sleeve that wouldn’t be obvious super powers. 

“I hope we’ll be able to shake hands, afterwards.”

“No hard feelings,” said Danny, “but you are such a CEO.”

“What?”

“Shake hands,” Danny said, shaking his head. “We’re bros. We’ll hug it out.”

“Aw, see, you are a cuddler,” Tim teased. 

Danny threw a stick at his face. 

“Then you wrap it around one more time,” Clark was saying, coaching Billy on tying a basic fishing knot. 

He’d need to back off soon. The more patient and paternal Clark was with Billy, the more Billy got uncomfortable. It was a bit of a balancing act. Clark wasn’t going to not take care of Billy, but he needed to do it in smaller drips and drabs, or Billy would get his hackles up. 

He was pretty sure a part of Billy would have been happy if Clark were just indifferent towards him, or at least treated him like an associate instead of a child in need. But there were also times Billy would light up with just a little praise, or look to Clark for affirmation. He also took surprisingly well to correction, most of the time, when Clark had reason to admonish him. 

So, no, Clark wasn’t going to treat Billy like a miniature adult. But he could still take things more at Billy’s pace. 

“I got it, I got it,” said Billy, his patience waning. 

Clark watched him finish the knot. Billy dithered a moment at the end, trying to figure exactly which hole to tuck the end of the line into before pulling it taught, but he got it in the end. 

“Alright,” Clark said positively, backing off a little, instead of saying ‘good job’ with a clap to Billy’s shoulder. 

He gave Billy some space, going to the nearby tide pool to look for anything edible. Billy reported he had eaten clam chowder, before, so there shouldn’t be any issue with a shellfish allergy. 

Behind him, Billy fumbled his first cast. Clark ignored the urge to go back and coach him through it. 

Unfortunately, that gave him time to brood about whatever would happen tonight. It would not just come down to random chance; Clark thought they could all be sure of that. Beyond that, Clark figured it would be either a test of physique or strategy. If it was the latter, then Clark would very much expect Tim to win. If it was the former…

Clark knew better than to bet against a Bat in a contest against a powered individual, but the Bat’s also relied upon their technology and upon going into their fights with as much knowledge about their opponent as possible. Tim had a taser, which Danny knew about. Tim definitely suspected Danny had a flight ability, but Danny was unlikely to use it. Tim probably suspected Danny had super strength, but it was not as though Clark had ever had a chance to confirm that with him. Danny could definitely make subtle use of super strength if he needed. He had no idea if Tim had been able to catch onto Danny’s impermeability, so that was another potential surprise for him, but another one Danny was unlikely to use in any obvious way. There were too many unknowns for Clark to make a good guess.

If it was a simple endurance test, Tim was likely out of luck. Peak physical condition he may be in, with the training he needed to surpass his physical limits, to a degree, but Clark had yet to see Danny even remotely exert himself. If he had limits, Clark had yet to see them, beyond seeing the boy get sleepy. Perhaps Tim could play some manner of mind game, to trip Danny up; Batman would. Tim might be too much of a team player to try, though.

He really hoped it wasn’t just going to be some sort of slug fest. Tim, he knew, could go through it without any hard feelings. Danny, he didn’t know enough about. Whatever happened, they needed to be able to be a cohesive team afterwards. Regardless, there was also the question of injuries. Antantlous apparently had the ability to heal the injured. Would any of that healing be extended to them? They had been content to watch Billy hobble around for a day.

And Clark wanted Tim to win. Part of it was that Tim was basically family. Part of it was that some of Clark’s favorite people lived in Gotham. Another part of it was that, if Clark didn’t manage to spare Metropolis, in the end, then an unscathed Gotham would be well positioned to help render aid. Superman was a hero for all the world, but Clark was still a man who wanted to keep his loved ones safe. 

One way or another, he would have to manage.

They made their way to the amphitheater just as the sun was hovering above the horizon, ready to get things over with.

“No hard feelings?” said Danny.

“No hard feelings,” said Tim.

“All our hard feelings to the clerics?” Danny proposed, holding up his hand.

Tim slapped it in agreement.

Yes, he had a lot of hard feelings towards the clerics. At the moment, they did not begin or end with the tiger attack, but that particular grievance was still pretty high in his mind. It also made Tim pretty worried about just what kind of nonsense would be thrown at them tonight.

“There you boys are,” Clark said when they stepped into the Amphitheater. “Since I’d like to have something positive to say, I just want you to know that I’ll be looking forward to combining our camps, and knowing that at least one of us is spending time in relative comfort.”

Tim wasn’t sure how comfortable he or Danny would be able to make themselves, if they were alone in the dormitory, wondering what was happening to the others; knowing they’d let their home town down.

As per usual, they did not have to wait long for the cleric to arrive, with the sun fully set, and the whoosh of fire lighting the torches around them. Danny glared at them.

“Survivors, I welcome you to your second tribal council. Here and now, the tribes are dissolved, as either Tim or Danny will be leaving us shortly. Tribes of two will become a tribe of three. But, before you can get down to the business of setting aside your former rivalry, we must settle the matter of which contestant will be eliminated.”

“I feel like this whole ‘tribe’ thing is very appropriative,” said Danny.

“I mean,” said Billy, “this is all appropriative of Earth culture.”

Yes, thank you Billy. 

“Danny. Tim,” said the cleric, powering through, as per usual. “Are you ready to break your tie.”

“Um,” said Danny, wanting to make one thing clear. “I just want to say, we are as ready as we’ll ever be to break the tie vote you forced on us. But Tim and I are bros, and that is a tie that won’t be breaking, tonight.”

“Here, here,” said Tim.

“‘Here, here?’” said Danny, rolling his eyes. Would it kill Tim to talk like a sixteen-year-old? “Just CEO things.”

Tim flicked him on his ear.

“Tonight’s tie breaker will be very simple,” said the cleric as a small table and two seats appeared. “Danny, Tim, you will engage in a battle of strength, in an arm wrestling match. The winner will remain on Survivor, and the loser will be sent packing.”

Danny felt instant relief, though he felt a little bad for Tim. Danny was relatively certain Tim was baseline human. Danny would just need a smidge of ghostly strength, and he’d have this in the bag. His relief sort of disappeared. Obviously, it was good he could protect Amity Park, but… No one would think he could beat Tim in arm wrestling. Tim just physically had way more muscle than him. It wouldn’t be obviously super strength, but it would draw attention. He was going to have to play it off as some weird technique that beat brawn.

Tim clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

“We got this,” he said. “No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” said Danny.

Tim slugged him in the arm, because apparently an arm wrestling contest brought out his inner jock. He hadn’t even been gentle. Danny poked him in the ribs as retribution, and they took their seats.

“Just a basic arm wrestling match?” Tim asked as they put their left elbows on the table.

“Exactly,” said the cleric.

They clasped their hands together, and Tim put his off hand over them to give them a squeeze, before he set it on Danny’s forearm for a moment. Apparently, Tim really got jock-y for an arm wrestling match.

“Ready,” said the cleric.

Danny was more than ready.

“Set.”

Tim’s ring finger squeezed down a little on Danny’s hand.

“Go!”

Danny’s whole arm was numb.

Then the back of his hand was pressed down on the table.

“And in a decisive victory, Tim claims his spot in the surviving cast!”

“I- I don’t…”

Danny didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” said Tim.

Danny looked up at him, his eyes already watering.

“Danny, you will not be moving forward,” said the cleric.

Danny let out a sob.

Whatever had happened, he’d failed. 

The world turned white.

From the look on Tim’s face, he was feeling like a heel for how he’d won. Pressure points, if Clark was not completely off base. Super strength or not, Danny was human with at least one very human weakness. 

“Well, there we have it,” said the cleric, chipper in the face of his somber crowd. “Tim, as yours is now the smaller of the two tribes, you will be joining Clark and Billy at their campsite.”

What must have been all of the possessions from their campsite suddenly appeared in the amphitheater. Tim’s jacket, which Danny had been wearing, was on the top of the pile.

“I would recommend you getting a move on. Twilight is fleeting, and moonrise will not be for some time.”

“Don’t you guys control when the moon rises, or how long twilight is?” asked Billy, clearly in a mood, himself.

The cleric winked at them, as though this really was all a game, and disappeared.

Tim gave a long sigh, not looking at either one of them.

“I’d appreciate your help getting everything back to your campsite,” he said.

“Of course,” said Clark.

Tim got up slowly from his seat, and began gathering things up.

“Tim,” said Clark. “In this case, no hard feelings means you, too.”

Tim finally looked at him and gave him a sad smile. “Yeah, I know, Clark.”

“Will Danny be okay?” Billy asked, sounding worried.

Tim made a face, and Clark himself wasn’t sure. Even with everything at stake, and with his existing concerns about Danny’s ability to keep a level head, he had seemed to be taking his loss harder than Clark would have expected.

“Danny’s a good kid,” said Clark, trying to be reassuring. “I’m sure he’s worried about everything, but he’ll also have some time to destress and take care of himself, while he’s waiting for us to catch up with him.”

“I hope so,” said Tim.

“I’ve scrubbed the footage Impulse recovered from the Fenton lab,” said Oracle, once Batman and Robin were closed up in the Batmobile after a meeting with the Commissioner.”

“Is that a priority, now?” asked Robin. “The Justice League was able to secure authority to occupy the lab, and neutralize it as a threat. Meanwhile, we are preparing for a likely disaster.”

“Have a little more faith in Tim,” said Oracle.

“Tt.”

“We have multiple concerns ongoing,” said Bruce. “Unfortunately, the Fenton issue is one we still know too little about.”

“It’s pretty bad, B.”

“Tell me,” said Bruce.

“I should note, first of all, someone else has come in and doctored some of the previous footage. I’m suspecting modern-day_pharaoh, covering for his friend.”

“Is it that bad?” asked Bruce. Because the hacking was hardly relevant at the moment.

He heard a sigh over the comm. “The Doctors Fenton have caught five ghosts, from what is documented in the footage. One was just a little blob of a thing. It didn’t really give any signs of any kind of sapience, from what I could tell. They destroyed it fairly quickly, though…it did appear as though it suffered. Two of the other ghosts were humanoid, another in the form of an octopus. For each, there was a quick escape. Once, with clear and direct intervention by Phantom. In the other two, it seems clear there was some sort of outside interference, but it is not clear how. 

“The fifth ghost was Phantom. He started to plead his case with them as soon as he was removed from some manner of containment device, already seriously wounded, and they used a device to muzzle him. They used special tools to cut into him, marveling at the human-like structures inside his body. They vivisected him, essentially. He was conscious. It was a horror show. They cut down to the bone in his upper arms and legs, spine. Removed organs. Tested different machines on his body to see their effectiveness. Eventually they located something they called his core, in his chest. They were attempting to isolate it when Phantom unleashed a vocal attack, destroying the muzzle, knocking back the Doctors Fenton, and enabling Phantom’s escape through their portal. All told, these events transpired over three hours and fifty-two minutes.”

They processed that a moment.

“One wonders what they would have done had he been given the chance to explain he was their son,” Robin said scathingly.

It did beg the question.

“Check your assumptions, Robin,” said Bruce. “We have yet to confirm that Danny Fenton and Phantom are one and the same.”

“The fool made his code name a play on his own family name,” said Robin. 

Case in point of why children should not be left alone to become super heroes. 

“Do the incisions you saw in the video match what we have seen of Danny’s scars?” Bruce asked.

“They do.”

“Hn."

“Sorry to ruin your evening,” said Oracle.

“It is not ruined,” said Robin, sardonic. “Speaking of crimes against sapient life, we yet have our evening’s entertainment to look forward to.”

“On that note,” said Oracle, “American law might not punish the Fentons, beyond the fact they’ve opened themselves up to untold civil suits by opening that portal, but the Hague may well be an option.”

“The US government is unlikely to extradite citizens for crimes that are not illegal in the US,” said Bruce. Not that a competent prosecutor couldn’t make a good argument that a prosecution could go ahead regardless of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Not that there weren’t ways for the Fentons to be delivered to the Hague absent cooperation of the US government.

“We really need to get some laws that cover mad science,” said Oracle.

“Half the Justice League would need to lock themselves up,” said Robin.

Which was fair enough.

“Not much time until the broadcast,” said Oracle. “You staying planet-side?”

“There will be unrest in Gotham if Tim is eliminated tonight,” said Bruce by way of answering.

“There’s always unrest in Gotham, B,” said Oracle. “But you should have more faith in the kid.”

No names over the comms also meant no referring to CEO Tim Drake-Wayne as though he were one of them.

And, Bruce did have faith in Tim. It was the situation Tim was in that Bruce did not trust. 

“What the shit was that?!” asked Sam.

The broadcast had been something of an emotional roller coaster for Jazz. Admittedly, it had been kind of funny seeing Danny waking up to realize he was cuddling Tim. It was good to see him clearly making friends with his fellow abductees. It was good to see little Billy learn how to fish at the same time he was learning to trust a safe adult. (You couldn’t get much safer than Superman). 

Seeing Danny be forced to articulate why he should be allowed to protect the people he cared for more than Tim deserved to protect his own had not been fun. Danny had looked so miserable. And then the stupid arm wrestling match.

They’d all been sure Danny would win.

Danny was crying.

And the he was gone.

“Red Robin made use of the Great One’s human pressure points,” said Frostbite. “Points along his shoulder, arm, and hand. It would have created a momentary weakness he would have been able to exploit.”

“That cheat!” said Tucker.

“Don’t do that,” said Jazz.

“What, you’re defending him?” asked Sam.

“They’ve all been kidnapped,” said Jazz. “They’re not trying to win a million dollars. They’re trying to survive and keep their people back home safe. Danny had his ghost strength. Mr. Drake-Wayne had his pressure points. One of them won. Don’t let the Tantalans turn you against their captives.”

“I worry about the Great One,” said Frostbite. “Unable to protect his haunt. This will be weighing upon him greatly.”

And now he was alone.

The rest of the broadcast was just the three remaining abductees brooding and folding Mr. Drake-Wayne into the remaining camp. There were some ‘confessionals’ thrown in, but none of them had been very talkative. 

And then it was Danny’s turn.

Danny was on his side on the dormitory couch, his head in his hands. He was crying.

“How are you feeling about your elimination, Danny?”

“I messed up,” he said. “I messed up. I don’t know what to do.”

The broadcast faded to black.

“How are you feeling about your elimination?” Sam said derisively. 

“What the hell are they doing to our best friend?!” asked Tucker.

What were they doing to her little brother?

It was probably better than whatever their parents had done to him.

“We’re almost back to the portal,” Jazz reminded them.

“And we’re going back empty handed,” said Sam.

“We’re going to go and get ready for whatever’s about to hit Amity,” said Jazz.

She took control of the Specter Speeder.

It was only a little over an hour later they were able to part ways with Frostbite. Jazz used her palm print to signal the shield over the portal to open, and they drove through.

She had half been expecting to see her parents there, and she had not quite been able to bring herself to think about what she would do the next time she saw them.

None of them had been prepared to see technicians and a Justice League member in the lab.

“Right, that’s it, then,” said a British man.

“Uhhh, should we turn back around?” asked Tucker.

“And go where?” asked Sam.

Was someone chanting out there?

The ever-present hum that had been a part of the Fenton household for the last year suddenly died.

“What?” asked Tucker, somewhat dumbstruck. 

“Did they just…”

Jazz had suggested they should.

A panel on the dashboard was showing a number of alerts.

“Right, you lot,” said the British one. He waved his hand in the air. “Come on, we don’t have all bloody day.”

They were all a little somber, still, that next morning. 

“Hey, Tim, you’ll be sure to cheer Danny up, when you see him?” asked Billy over breakfast. 

He’d refused to touch the tiger jerky, and was mostly eating coconut and guava with a little bit of rice mixed in.

“I’m sure whichever one of us sees him next will cheer him up,” said Tim.

“No, see, you were supposed to say, ‘I’m sure you’ll have cheered him up by the time I get there, Billy.’”

Tim smiled at him. “I mean, obviously, I’m sending you packing, today.”

“Over my dead body,” said Billy. 

“Ideally not,” said Clark, giving him a look. “We’ll just have to see what we’ll be doing, today, and who happens to be the least suited for it. Just remember, we’re a team, before we’re competitors.” 

“We're the four best friends that anyone could have. We’re the four best friends that anyone could have,” Billy sang.

Tim quirked a lip. “What cartoon’s that from?”

“The Hangover,” said Billy.

“Billy, no,” said Tim.

Billy snickered.

“You’re a baby, Billy,” said Tim.

“I grew up in foster care,” said Billy. “I’ve seen so many things I wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re still growing up,” Clark said dryly. 

Billy waved him off.

“I’m thinking we should try to get as much as we can done, this morning. We don’t know when the next event will be,” said Clark.

“I’m expecting late afternoon, or even the evening,” said Tim. “Gives us more time to interact as a group of three, before they send another one of us away. Then, whatever the final contest is will happen sometime tomorrow, and the day after, we’re ready for a whole new challenge.”

“Not much downtime,” said Clark.

“Apparently, we’re a different breed,” said Billy.

What did it matter if they were or not?

“So,” said Clark, “was that what you were talking about, our last interview, when you said you were looking into more esoteric forms of self-defense?”

“Oh,” Tim said, feigning sheepishness, but glad Clark was helping him to hang a lampshade on last night. “Yeah. Esoteric for a good reason. I feel kind of silly about the whole thing, now.”

“I mean, I guess it came in handy, last night.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Asked Billy. “Tim used his muscles last night? I think I’ve got more muscles on my arms than Danny does.”

“Be nice,” said Clark. 

“I didn’t want to leave anything to chance,” said Tim. 

“Because we’re a ‘different breed?’” Billy asked.

“I mean…I’m, you know, a CEO. And, I think Danny made a fair point that probably no one has ever done a propane extraction on Survivor, before. Just like, okay, I’m not your average Joe. So, yeah, I didn’t want to take any chances with Danny.”

“So, what, did you use some sort of secret jiu jitsu arm wrestling technique?”

“No,” Tim said with a laugh. “I, um, poked Danny in some of his pressure points. His whole arm would have gone numb and weak for about a minute.”

“You what?” asked Billy. “That’s a real thing?”

“It is a real thing.”

“That’s awesome! Why’d you say it was silly?”

“Well, it was silly for me to try to pick it up. Basically, you have to already be a martial arts master before you can even think of trying to use pressure points in an actual fight. I was only able to use them successfully, last night, because Danny was basically standing still, and didn’t realize what I was doing, or try to stop me. I really should have just taken a self-defense class, like a normal person.”

“Oh,” said Billy. “And, I guess that’s why Danny looked so confused, last night.”

“Yeah,” said Tim, not at all feigning his chagrin, this time.

“Wait, is that how you killed the poor tiger?”

Tim made a face at him. “Billy, I assure you, I have never studied tiger pressure points.”

“Well, I guess,” said Billy.

“Also, the tiger was trying to eat me, so it very much was not standing still for me, at the time.”

“Oh yeah,” said Billy, sucking on his teeth.

Then he looked around, like he was checking to see if anymore apex predators were out looking for a snack.

So far the tiger had been a one-off? Not that Tim was complaining about there not being more attacks, but it seemed odd that it had not been a part of any trend.

“So, how about we crack some books, today,” said Clark.

“What?!” asked Billy.

“We got all those textbooks and workbooks,” said Clark. “Time to start getting caught up.”

Billy was looking at Clark like he was the apex predator.

Not that he wasn’t.

“Our camp’s set up,” said Clark. “We’ve got a good supply of fruits. It won’t take us all day to catch some fish and muscles. So why not?”

“Uhhhh.”

“You’re not anti-education, are you?” asked Clark.

“No, I’m not anti-education! Just…is now really the best time?”

“When’s a good time going to be?” asked Tim. “We gotta wait months from now, when this is all over?”

“Wait, do you even go to school?” 

“No, but I’m still a very well educated autodidact,” said Tim. “I study all the time.”

“How far behind are you, Billy?” asked Clark.

“Um, I mean, it’s been more than a year since I was in school, I guess.”

Clark nodded very seriously.

“But, I go to the library, sometimes, and learn stuff.”

“That’s great!” said Clark. “I bet we’ll have you caught up in no time.”

Billy looked at Tim, as though Tim would save him.

“I can help you with your math and science,” said Tim, “and I’m sure Clark can help you out with the humanities.”

“Do fifth graders in your district do languages?” asked Clark. “I know Spanish.”

Billy huffed in resignation. 

Billy was not as far behind as Clark had feared. Granted, he was mostly just comparing to the homework he sometimes helped Jon with, so he wasn’t exactly an expert on the matter. There were a fair few times Billy would comment something along the lines of ‘wait, no I learned this already,’ and then mutter over the issue until he let Tim or Clark help him with it. 

He was also heard muttering, “Death and taxes. Try death and homework!”

They only spent a couple of hours on it, before they did start more fishing and gathering. Doing fairly well for themselves, they certainly were at no risk of starving, they turned to other projects. Nothing that was particularly needed. They made their sleeping pallets a little more comfortable. Tim slaved away a while, turning a fishing hook into something that would be serviceable for sutures with a coconut husk thread. He boiled both, along with a washed out pouch from one of the instant meals for a storage container. Clark really hoped no one would need it.

Tim also showed Billy the extractor he’d used for his antimicrobial paste, as a sort of impromptu science lesson, which necessitated Billy learning about the tiger intestine used as a part of the rig. 

Billy made a face that indicated both disgust and intrigue. “So. You’re saying the aloe guava paste is not vegan.”

“I mean, I guess,” said Tim.

“Poor baby tiger,” said Billy.

“It was very much not a baby,” said Tim.

“Practically a newborn.” 

“It literally ate someone already.”

They were pulled away for more confessionals. Clark sang the boys’ praises, and reaffirmed his intent to win. 

Eventually, the Game Master told them to make their way down to the beach dressed for the water. Seeing as they didn’t have wetsuits, or swim suits, Tim just grabbed the water shoes, and gathered some leaves along the way to shove into Danny’s pair so they’d fit Billy’s feet. Clark would go without. 

“No hard feelings?” asked Tim.

“Of course, Tim,” said Clark. 

“Hey, Tim, it’s not too late to gang up on the big guy,” said Billy.

“Sorry, buddy,” said Tim. “Don’t want you becoming a boa constrictor snack.”

“A snack?!” Billy demanded. “I’m a full ass meal!”

“Language,” said Clark.

“Baby,” said Tim.

“Not going to lie, here, Tim. There’s some hard feelings.”

There was no Jeep waiting for them on the beach. Instead, there was the Cleric, and beyond them in the surf were now three identical metal structures. Flat panels on opposite sides, perpendicular to the shore line, covered with grills that were currently about a foot and a half above the water.

“Ah, what fresh hell is this?” asked Tim.

“Greetings, contestants,” said the Cleric. “Today, we have our first elimination challenge. I hope you’re all prepared.”

Billy grunted as Clark was comparing the current water level to the high tide line evident in the landscape.

He didn’t like where this was going.

“Your challenge, should you accept it, will lie behind me in the ocean water. The challenge itself is very simple. Whoever can keep their head positioned under their grill the longest will win a reward that will come in handy in the face of the final elimination. The contestant who gives up first will be eliminated. And, to make things more interesting, you contestants will have no idea whether or not your fellow contestants have given up, or not.”

“So, it’s just a breath holding contest,” said Billy.

“It’s a lot more than that,” said Clark. “You’ll still be jostled around by the waves and currents. Even before the top of the grate is covered by water, you’ll be having your face intermittently, almost unpredictably covered by water. It’s going to be intense. And,” he said very pointedly towards the cleric. “Billy can’t swim. Are you going to pull him out if he loses his grip on the structure?”

“There will be no interruption to the challenge until all three of you have surfaced,” said the cleric.

“Hey, um, are there any objects that are not allowed to go into the water with us?” asked Billy, focusing on entirely the wrong thing and glaring at Tim.

“Snorkels,” said the Cleric.

“Okay, how about a freaking rebreather?” asked Billy.

“Anything that would allow you to pull down air from above the surface of the water is not allowed, and will be an instant disqualification, if used.”

“Unbelievable,” said Billy. “So I just have to hope Tim’s rebreather broke somewhere along the last few days. That’s great.”

“You all came as you were,” said the Cleric.

Tim was wisely saying nothing.

“Billy, if this is a challenge you have only the slimmest of chances of winning-” Clark tried.

“Then I’ll give it my all, and try to eke out my win,” said Billy.

“My, but you are devoted to the city that failed you.”

“The entire city of Fawcett didn’t fail me,” Billy said dryly. 

“Billy, this is dangerous,” said Clark. 

“Everything’s we’ve done is dangerous, Clark,” said Billy. “I’m doing this.”

They stared each other down a moment. Billy didn’t waver.

Clark turned to the cleric. “Can I escort Billy to his test site and coach him there before the event begins?”

The cleric smiled broadly at him. “By all means,” he said, gesturing them towards the water.

Clark gritted his teeth. “Get those water shoes on,” he told Billy.

“You know, I can doggy paddle,” said Billy as he stepped out of his boots and socks.

“That is entirely inadequate,” said Clark. “Under no circumstances should you try to swim to shore, unless you wind up completely separated from your structure and you can’t get back. At all times you will have at least one hand in a death grip on the grill, do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand you,” said Billy.

“Don’t take anything off. I wouldn’t put it past them to make dangerous animals a part of this.”

“Wasn’t planning on stripping,” said Billy.

Clark sighed.

“Alright, let’s…let’s do this. We’ll have you in the middle.”

It was only the last little bit where the water was too high for Billy to wade, and Clark guided him forward to the structure.

“When this is over, the water is going to be a lot higher. I will swim you back. Right now, I want you to practice moving from under the structure to on top of it. When you’re done with the challenge, I want you on top of the structure, holding on tight. Remember. At all times, at least one hand should be attached to the grill. Both at once, unless you’re moving.”

So Clark coached Billy on the movements he wanted Billy to take to climb on top of the structure and the bracing position he wanted Billy to take once there. Then he had Billy practice it until the cleric called time.

“Tryin to wear me out before I’m holding my breath,” said Billy as he took his position.

“Billy, the waves are going to do that already,” said Clark. “Stay safe. If you think you’re going to go under, don’t shout. Pound on the structure to make noise.”

Clark didn’t know how effective it would be. The structures were lined with lead, so Clark couldn’t just turn his head to the side to see how Billy was doing. He wouldn’t be surprised if something blocked his hearing, as well. The Tantalans had clearly stated they did not want them to know what was going on until they had given up the challenge.

Clark could solve the entire issue by giving up, himself. Sacrifice Metropolis for Billy. 

Who was probably Captain Marvel, and could save himself.

Clark gritted his teeth, and took his position.

Billy was trying to keep a high spirit, but it was kind of hard with how freaked out Clark was over the whole thing. Billy got it. Clark didn’t want to lose to Tim to have to come save him. Billy wouldn’t even need to knock on the structure, and Clark would be there the moment things got really bad. 

If things got really bad. Which they wouldn’t. Billy just had to hold on, and hold his breath, and hope that Tim’s rebreather broke so catastrophically that Tim took in a whole breath of water, and had to come spluttering up for air. Billy definitely couldn’t hold his breath for longer than Superman, even with Clark pretending to be human, but he could avoid elimination. 

Honestly, this was the task Danny should have been in to excel at, and Billy should have been eliminated first because he was obviously the least suited to any physical task here.

But, who knew, maybe Tim’s rebreather would break so catastrophically, and Tim would be in such a state, that Clark would have to go rescue him! Then Billy would be in the lead. 

Not very likely, with Tim also being Red Robin, and his rebreather probably being bat tech, but a boy could dream.

And he was definitely thinking about all that, and not how freaky this all was.

“Alright,” said the cleric, loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the water bouncing off the walls of Billy’s structure. “All contestants are in position, and the tide is officially coming in. The Last Breath Competition has begun! Remember, contestants, to keep your heads directly below the grills for as long as you possibly can. You’ll have no idea when your fellow competitors have come up for air.”

Jerks.

A wave came from behind him, and Billy honestly had not been prepared for how much it had lifted him towards the grill. Honestly, for a second, he’d thought his nose was going to crash into it!

Okay. 

Yeah.

He was starting to see what Clark was saying about the waves and the currents. 

His arms were already starting to get tired, and with each wave he could see the distance between him and the grill shrinking, and then his face did get smushed against the grill by a wave.

Billy spluttered a moment, but steeled his resolve.

He may have not been the best candidate to become Captain Marvel, but he was Captain Marvel, and the Captain was not just a bunch of magical abilities. He could do this.

The next wave tried to drag him out from under the structure, and he didn’t let it.

He was breathing hard.

There was hardly any space between him and the grill, now, and each wave coming in was pressing his face harshly against it. 

And he might have been crying, but that wasn’t important, right now. You couldn’t even tell, with all the water.

And then, what Clark had said about water crashing down on his face came true, and Billy was spluttering, and maybe freaking out a little.

He held on all the harder.

He had to do this.

He had to try!

He started trying to time his breaths around the waves.

The space between him and the grill disappeared, which at least kept the face smooshing more manageable. He was spending more and more time with water between him and the air.

This was awful.

This was so awful.

He wanted out.

The wave over him evened out, and Billy had to press his face harder against the grill to get his mouth over the water. He got a couple of breaths in.

The next wave came, and afterwards, Billy could barely get a half a breath before he had to close his mouth to the water.

How was this a breath holding contest?

Billy didn’t even have a whole breath!

The water was still tossing him about. 

He tried to press for another shallow breath, but he couldn’t make it.

It was already starting to burn inside of him.

He started swallowing compulsively, and then a sudden eddy seemed to swing his body to the side, knocking the remaining breath out of him as he crashed into the side of his structure. 

He lost his grip with one hand.

He held on all the tighter with the other, his wrist wrenching a little.

It took him too long to get his flailing hand back on the grill.

He let the next wave move him forward, towards shore, and he changed his grip to grab the edge of the grill, like Clark had shown him.

He needed to breathe!

His chest was trying to heave.

He kept swallowing compulsively.

His fingers were threatening to break.

The wave started to subside, and Billy let go with his other hand and twisted around to grab the edge of the grill.

He had to scramble for it.

His grip was failing.

He got it!

A last little bit of breath forced its way out of his mouth, but Billy heaved himself up over the water.

He gasped in, heaving, and crying.

He held on for dear life.

He gagged as he got a face full of water.

Scrambling, he pulled himself up on top of the structure.

He almost started to curl up on his side on top of it, but a wave crashing down on him convinced him otherwise. 

His limbs feeling like jello, he braced himself, the way Clark had shown him, his butt on the grill, his hands holding on just behind him, his feet planted on the outer bar of the grill.

He started to finally catch his breath, his face against his knees.

He sobbed.

What the hell had that been?

He finally looked to either side of him. 

Clark and Tim were both still under.

Of course they were.

They didn’t have to transform to be heroes.

They just were.

Billy had failed so hard, he might as well not have tried.

He pressed his face against his knees again.

The more he stayed above the water, the less his tears could be mistaken for anything else.

As soon as the water had covered his face and stayed, there was only so much time Clark could stay under without being obviously enhanced. A minute and a half was about how long an untrained adult in good health could be expected to hold their breath in ideal conditions. With all the other factors thrown in, Clark figured he would ideally try to hold his breath for just under a minute before he gave in. He did not even give it forty-five seconds, knowing Billy almost certainly had not been able to last so long.

He pulled himself up, and looked to his side.

He felt instant relief. Billy was on top of his structure. He looked haggard and bedraggled, but he was alive and not in any immediate danger. Looking over to Tim, Clark did not have a good angle to see through the grill, and Tim’s structure was just as lead lined as Clark’s had been. But, he could see Tim’s fingers wrapped around the bars, and he could see his body floating past the mouth of the structure. For the moment, he was fine.

Clark began swimming towards Billy. It didn’t feel perilous, to Clark. But without using much flight or obvious super strength, he was still getting tossed about in the waves. Still, he made it over without issue.

“Hey buddy,” he said as he grabbed a hold of the structure.

Billy heaved a big sigh, his face still pressed to his knees.

“You ready to get back to shore?” asked Clark.

Billy shook his head.

“Alright, then,” said Clark.

He got up on top of the structure, behind Billy, letting his body act as a wave break.

“Did you do the best you could?” he asked.

“I tried so hard,” Billy said, his voice broken.

“Then that’s all anyone could have asked of you. And here you are, sitting safe on top, like we practiced. It’s going to be okay.”

Billy took a deep breath.

“It was so bad, Clark.”

“I know,” said Clark, even though, in reality, he didn’t. He could imagine the desperate struggle Billy must have undergone by recalling the struggles of desperate humans he had witnessed before, but…

No.

He didn’t know.

“Can we go back now, please?” asked Billy.

“Alright, Billy,” said Clark. “Just follow my lead. I’ll do all the work; you just have to hold on and keep your head up, okay?”

Billy nodded his head, so Clark positioned the boy against him, and then gently rolled them over into open water, with Clark on his back. Billy’s arms squeezed reflexively around him. 

“I’ve got you, Billy.”

Again, Tim felt just a little bad about how he was winning the competition. Without the rebreather, there would have been no way for Tim to beat Clark with any sort of strategy or natural ability. Tim could have used all of his skills and training to last a good bit longer than the average person could have, and Clark would have just used his hearing or his vision to see Tim surface, and waited a few seconds longer. The only hope would have been Billy having an emergency, and Clark going to rescue him, but who wanted to rely on the prospect of an eleven year old drowning?

But that wasn’t the situation. First Danny’s pressure points, and now Tim had a rebreather. It wasn’t exactly fair. But Bat’s didn’t rely on fair, and they sure didn’t let it stop them. Tim needed to win this round, not just avoid losing it, he had to get that advantage if he wanted any chance of beating Superman at whatever the next challenge was.

The maximum amount of time Clark could hold his breath without straining absolute credulity was about two minutes. 

Tim gave it four.

No matter what twinge of guilt he felt, he wasn’t chancing it with Gotham and his family on the line. 

With two-hundred and forty seconds having passed since the water had covered his grill one last time, Tim pressed one more breath into his rebreather, breathed in, and let his right hand fall away from the grill, ready to pull himself forward and out.

His hand hit something unexpected, and a line of punctures raced across the back of it.

Tim screamed, the pain was so unexpected, so intense and immediate, the rebreather fell from his mouth and he lost his grip on the grill. He started tumbling in the currents.

It took a second for his training to kick in. 

Usually, compartmentalizing pain involved breathing. He did without. He kicked up to the light, and got a grasp on the grill again, using it to push himself out and to the surface. In the moment, he wasn’t even sure if he was pushing towards land or ocean.

“Clark!” he gasped out the moment he got a breath. 

His body spasmed, a wave of pain coursing up his arm and over his body. He cried out and gritted his teeth.

“Clark, help!”

It wasn’t Clark that got him out of the water.

The challenge was over.

Tim, Clark, and Billy were on the beach after a flash of white.

“Tim, what happened?” asked Clark, quick to kneel beside him.

“Stonefish! Hagh!” Tim grit out. 

It was like he’d been shot in the hand, but the agony was spreading.

“We need to evacuate Tim,” said Clark, like that was ever going to be an option.

“Tim is still a contestant,” said the cleric. “You can’t get rid of him that easily.”

“Then help him!”

Tim cried out. He couldn’t help it.

He brought up his hand. It was already swollen, and he could see four small trails of blood seeping from four small puncture wounds.

That was a lot of venom in his hand.

“I’m afraid Tim is on his own, unless you’d like to tend to him?”

“Damn you! Whatever you’re after, this isn’t worth it.”

“Alright,” said Billy, resolve in his voice. He started kneeling down next to Tim, holding out his hands. “Alright-”

Billy disappeared in a flash of light. 

“You are the final two,” said the cleric. “Tomorrow, you will compete to determine who the Survivor will be.”

“You’re going to help him,” Clark said with enough authority that it made Tim take notice.

Billy had been about to do something stupid, when the cleric had vanished him. Now, Clark was on the verge of doing the same.

“Clark!” Tim said urgently, his teeth clenched together. “Hot. Water.”

“Tim,” Clark started.

“Hot! Water!”

Tim cried out. 

The agony had spread up to his shoulder, the waves of it crashing over his body faster and faster.

“Until tomorrow, contestants.” 

The cleric disappeared.

“Tim,” said Clark. “I’ve got you.”

He picked Tim up.

“Water. Hot,” said Tim. “Deactivates the- Hagh! The venom. Deactivates…”

He focused on his breathing.

Clark stood up with him, and Tim gripped his sodden shirt with his good hand.

“Slow is steady,” he managed. “Steady is…”

A wave crashed over him.

“Steady is quick, I know Tim. I won’t drop you.”

Of course he wouldn’t drop Tim. The point was he wouldn’t do anything stupid to try to help Tim faster.

Tim dissociated, trusting that Clark would have it from there.

Chapter Text

“Tu- Agh! Hecking, gosh darned-!!” Billy took a deep breath.

The lights were off in the dormitory, except for the bathroom light, which was shining into the bedroom, and from there into the den.

“Billy,” Danny’s voice croaked. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not…” Billy started, about to say, ‘it’s not me you should be worried about,’ but trailed off when he got a good look at Danny.

Oh.

They were a bit beyond cheering him up.

“You’re wet,” said Danny.

“I was in the water,” said Billy, turning on a light and walking over to the older boy.

“You can’t swim,” said Danny, squinting his eyes like the sun was shining. “Your face is really red.”

Billy huffed. His body was still a little shaky; his face felt like it had been smashed into a metal grate repeatedly; he felt awful. Probably not as awful as Danny seemed to be feeling.

“Have you done literally anything to take care of yourself since last night?” asked Billy.

Danny gave every appearance of having just been lying there since his last ‘confessional’ broadcast last night.

“What’s even the point?” asked Danny. “I let everyone down.”

Billy took a deep breath, and caught a whiff of the other boy. Yep, he smelled even worse now.

“What happened?” asked Danny. “You were upset when you got here.”

“Of course I was upset,” said Billy. “I lost.”

Danny looked up at him through bleary eyes, seeming to challenge him. Billy did his best to seem normal, and knew he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“No one’s dying,” he said. “I’ll tell you before the broadcast.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not good,” said Billy. “But let’s get you taken care of.”

“Why?” asked Danny, starting to cry. How he still had tears left, when Billy suspected he’d been doing nothing but crying and lying on his side the whole day, Billy didn’t know. “I messed up. I don’t even know how, and nothing’s going to be okay ever again.”

Billy groaned in exasperation. Danny had had his moping time. It was supposed to be Billy’s turn, now. Instead, he needed to make sure Danny took basic care of himself. 

“Okay, no. We’re not doing this. You had one little setback. It wasn’t even your fault.”

“I don’t know-”

“Tim had some weird pressure point technique, and made your arm numb,” said Billy.

…

“Oh.”

Billy was already walking over to the kitchen, and he filled a glass with water to take back to Danny.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re going to drink this, go take a shower, and come and eat something.

Danny shook his head. “Billy, I can’t-”

“Can’t what? Can’t drink some water?”

“I can’t take a shower! Okay? I’ll do the other stuff.”

Billy took a breath, considering the mess of the boy in front of him. By all rights, it was Billy, who should be hopping into a warm shower, right about now. But, Danny was literally having a serious depressive episode. Billy might not be able to do anything to protect Fawcett until Thursday, but he could take care of Danny.

Maybe he could even do one better.

“Alright,” he said, not to Danny. “What sort of a deal do I have to make to get Danny some privacy?” 

“What are you-”

“Well, hello, Billy,” said CAN3, the interviewer. 

“No matter how undressed Danny is, you don’t show any of his scars, what’s it going to take?” 

They considered this.

Danny was actually starting to sit up on the couch, so that was progress.

“Wait,” he said.

“You will agree to face three individuals you have wronged, in nine days time,” they said. “In return, we will refrain from broadcasting any image of him in the process of bathing or changing his clothes, until then.”

“Absolutely not,” said Danny, his voice still croaky, but with life finally in it. 

Three people he had wronged. He didn’t think they meant as the Captain. And, yeah, it was probably time for Billy to take responsibility for some things.

“Yeah, alright,” said Billy, sticking his hand out.

“No!” said Danny, lunging over, but immediately tripping over his own feet.

“We have a deal, then,” said CAN3, shaking Billy’s hand. “And I’ll see you in a little bit about a confessional, while this one’s in the shower.”

They disappeared.

“Billy, no!” said Danny, picking himself back up.

“It’s done,” said Billy.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen,” said Danny.

“What’s going to happen, is you’re going to drink your water, take a shower, and eat some food.”

“I’m not worth it,” said Danny. 

Billy went over and shoved the glass into Danny’s hand.

“You can talk to me when you’ve done all three,” he said, and stormed off into the bedroom.

He was planning to change into the grungy copies of his own clothes for right now, and then change into some of Danny’s actually clean clothes after his shower. Except, he found his own clothes were clean. Oh, they were still worn, and the left knee was still torn, but the stains and smells were gone. He pressed a red sweater to his face, and smelled the fabric softener Ms. Katja used to use.

There was a little note pinned to the sleeve.

You did your best!

Now they were being nice to him?

Well, he’d look this gift horse in the mouth later.

Stepping out of the leaf filled water shoes, Billy noticed that his new boots were resting on the floor of the wardrobe.

He started changing.

“Is everyone okay, though?” Danny asked from the doorway.

“You drink your water?”

Danny huffed. “Yeah,” he said.

“Shower.”

Danny huffed again, but walked through to the bathroom.

“Oh, one of us has to take care of Billy at all times,” Billy mocked to himself once the door was closed. “Billy can take care of himself, unlike some people.”

Billy finished dressing and made his way out of the bedroom. He might not be able to get a shower in just yet, but there was a kitchen full of food with his name on it.

Heating the water took too long. Clark could have heated it in an instant, but not without revealing his heat vision. One hundred-ten degrees, Clark was pretty sure was the ideal temperature for this kind of first aid. He’d check with Tim, but Tim wasn’t exactly talking at the moment. 

Only one-hundred ten degrees, and at least Clark could estimate with his infrared vision; basically just hot enough it wouldn’t burn a human with prolonged exposure. It wasn’t even close to boiling.

It still took too long.

Tim screamed when Clark set his swollen hand in the pot, and for a moment Clark thought he’d heated the water far too much.

“Clark,” said Tim, out of his dissociative episode. “Ahhhhkh!”

He started focusing on his breathing.

“It’s going to be okay, Tim,” said Clark. 

“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” Tim grit out. “Can cause seizures.”

“I’ve got you,” said Clark.

“It’s spread,” Tim said, breaking off to take a couple of pained breaths. “Shoulder. Give me warm compress, on my whole arm.”

“Alright, Tim,” said Clark, glad he had the second pot on the fire already.

He took Tim’s jacket and wrapped it around the arm.”

“Hnnng!”

“I’m sorry,” said Clark.

“Don’t. Be. Sorry.”

“Seizures,” said Clark, “is that the worst it can get?”

Tim shook his head. “Respiratory distress, possible. Cardiac arrest, possible. Death, possible.”

“I won’t let that happen,” said Clark.

He judged the second pot of water to be ready, and he poured it down the length of the jacket, earning another scream from Tim.

“You’re okay,” said Clark, refilling the pot as quickly as he could before going back to Tim.

Tim breathed for a minute, with Clark smoothing over his hair.

“Heat’s working,” Tim said eventually. “Can feel it, taking the edge off. It was four stings, but…the heat’s working.”

“Let’s get some water into you,” said Clark.

Tim was sweating kind of hard. He only managed a few sips, his stomach cramping.

“What can I do?” asked Clark.

“Hmmmm. When we’re done with…with the heat treatment. Use the antibiotic paste, and sterile bandages.”

“I can do that,” said Clark. “How long, for the treatment?

Tim paused.

“Twenty minutes?”

“You know,” said Clark, “I almost forgot you’re not a doctor.”

Tim barked a laugh with bared teeth.

“Anything else?” asked Clark. 

“Know any… pain killing plants?” asked Tim.

“There’s kava root. But I’m not sure I’d be able to tell it from some other random plant, or the proper way to prepare it.”

“Then… ‘m stumped. More hot…”

He focused on his breathing, and Clark checked the pot on the fire. He judged it maybe a little too hot, so he poured some into the pot Tim’s hand was in, bringing the temperature up a little, before adding a little more water from the jug to bring down the temperature and pouring the rest on Tim’s arm.

“Yeah, that’s…that’s helping,” said Tim. 

“Good,” said Clark. “Anything else I can do?” 

“I wish,” said Tim, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Rest your head on my thigh, and I’ll tell you about my masters thesis, from grad school?”

Tim paused, and then nodded his head.

“That’s so messed up they’re making that little kid do this,” said Bart, throwing some popcorn into his mouth.

“Can you not bring popcorn to the broadcast?” asked Connor.

Bart looked between the tin of popcorn and the big screen on the wall in Titan’s Tower. Yeah, optically, this wasn’t a great look.

“I’m telling the full truth, here, I was hungry and the popcorn was just the first thing I found in the kitchen.”

He zipped away and came back with a box of leftover pizza.

“So, it’s so messed up they’re making that little kid do all that,” he said loudly before taking a big bite.

Already, the kid was looking like he was getting tossed around by the waves.

“Do you think he’s faking?” asked Cassie.

“He isn’t faking,” Connor said darkly. “I’m telling you, this kid doesn’t have any physical enhancements.”

“Or physical training,” said Cassie.

“So, I think that if he winds up being just a normal kid with like, a genius brain, or whatever, then Batman’ll adopt him,” said Bart. “And, if he’s got some sort of power, then Superman’ll adopt him.”

“I don’t think Superman’s ever shown any interest in adopting,” Connor said dryly. 

“I don’t know,” said Cassie, “he’s been acting awfully paternal. And, well…” she glanced at Connor a little guiltily. “Billy doesn’t have any sort of baggage attached to him.”

“I’m pretty sure that kid has a ton of baggage,” said Bart.

“Not my point,” said Cassie.

“Also, Batman can’t adopt him, he’s still dealing with the stabby Robin,” said Connor.

“Aw, geez,” said Cassie as a wave crashed over Billy’s face and made him splutter.

“Yeah, this is messed up,” said Connor.

“It’s all messed up,” said Bart. 

It was like watching a train wreck. The whole while, the ‘camera’ loved focusing on Billy, as Superman and Rob sailed through the whole thing.

Bart found himself holding his breath as the kid wound up completely under water.

“Now the weak link here definitely seems to be Billy,” the Host cleric was saying, “he’s very much struggling. Meanwhile…”

The kid got jerked around in the surf, and lost all his air.

“…neither Clark nor Tim can see or hear Billy to know if he’s okay.”

There was a definite sense of dread as they watched Billy struggle, and Bart didn’t take a breath until the kid was above water.

“‘Weak link.’ Man, when we figure out how to get our hands on these assholes,” said Connor.

Bart looked away as the kid cried into his knees.

“And, here we see, Clark seems to be struggling to hold his breath for much longer.”

“Pft,” said Connor.

Bart looked back and watched as Superman ‘gave up’ and pushed himself out and up over the water. 

“Good,” said Bart, when they saw the man swimming over to help Billy. “He should have just stuck with Billy in the first place.”

“Tell that to the people of Metropolis,” was Cassie’s wry reply.

Bart grumbled.

“Think we’ll ever see him on the team?” asked Bart.

“Maybe if he ever shows us what he’s got?” said Cassie. 

“Hopefully, he’s got nothing special about him,” said Connor, “and there’s a Ma and Pa out there who’ll adopt him when this is all over.”

“Aw, you don’t want another little brother?” asked Bart.

“I’m just saying, probably the last thing the kid needs is a hero career,” said Connor.

When Superman started swimming the kid back, Cassie asked, “Wait, is he using his flight ability to float just a little higher?”

“Nah, kryptonians are just more buoyant than humans,” Connor BS’d, so Bart threw a piece of pepperoni at him.

“Hah,” said Connor after he’d eaten it. “Clark’d sink like a stone if he didn’t have flight. Forget floating, Clark can’t even swim on the surface without a little flight or super speed.”

“Wait, are you always flying when we go swimming?” asked Cassie.

“Ah, I can swim okay,” said Connor. “But I cannot…”

Their attention was all stolen by what was happening on the screen.

“It look’s like the currents are strong enough, they’ve dislodged this stonefish from the ocean floor,” said the Host.

“How bad are Stonefish stings for humans?” asked Connor.

Bart zipped away for some quick research at the local university library, and zipped back a moment later.

“They’re super-”

Tim got stung.

As Tim screamed his rebreather out, Bart zipped forward, picked Connor up from his chair, sped him over to a foot and a half away from Cassie on her couch, and tucked himself under Connor’s arm between them. Connor squeezed his shoulder. 

“How bad?” asked Connor. 

“Incredibly painful, and it could kill him,” said Bart. 

“Those rat bastards!” yelled Cassie.

Bart zipped across the room, grabbed a piece of pizza, and threw it at the screen, before zipping back under Connor’s arm.

Oh, they were going to put these clerics in a world of hurt when they caught up to them.

Billy was still in the shower when the broadcast started; he could hear it from the other room, and, wonder of wonders, it did not show up in the shower with him. It almost made him dither in the shower even longer, but he figured Danny probably shouldn’t watch it through alone. They’d talked already about what had happened to Tim, earlier, while Danny mechanically shoveled some food into his mouth. 

“What if he dies?” Danny had asked.

“Clark won’t let him,” said Billy. He had no idea if Danny knew anything was up with Clark, but Danny had just nodded his head.

His shower over, Billy changed into another set of his now clean clothes, and went out to see Danny in one of the big stuffed chairs watching the broadcast with a sick look on his face. Considering what Danny likely needed in that moment, Billy went and bodily shoved his way onto the chair with Danny. It was just wide enough to fit both their hips’ widths.

“Uhh,” said Danny.

“Don’t expect this after tomorrow,” said Billy. “Clark and Tim’ll be taking care of you.”

“I don’t need anyone to-”

“Shhhh,” said Billy.

Danny huffed.

“Do you know what might happen in nine days?” asked Danny.

On the screen, Tim was helping Billy with his math, so neither of them were overly worried about the broadcast at the moment.

Billy considered the question as he let a breath out through his nose. He’d gotten Danny the ability to shower and change his clothes, but he’d done it at the cost of making Danny worry about him more. He had also been considering who these ‘wronged’ individuals may be. Mostly he had two ideas on the matter. Either it was people he’d stolen from when he had first started living on the streets, or…

There were people he should have told on, that he’d never told on. Had they gone on to harm more people, and wasn’t that Billy’s responsibility?

All he said was, “When I started living on my own, I guess I did some stuff, to get by, before I figured things out.”

“Oh,” said Danny. He seemed to consider this. “I think…kids are supposed to have food and shelter, no matter what. So…if you had to do anything-”

“I chose to live on the streets,” said Billy. “I chose to leave food and shelter behind.” 

Danny considered this. 

“Did you have a good reason?” he asked. 

Billy nodded his head curtly.

“Then I don’t think anyone can really blame you.”

Billy didn’t doubt they already were. He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. The worst that can happen in nine days is probably nothing worse than anything I’ve already dealt with.”

“That’s really not filling me with confidence.”

Billy huffed.

Tentatively, Danny put an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” said Billy. “But Tim can be your cuddle buddy, tomorrow.”

“Ooh, yeah, they showed that, didn’t they?”

Billy snickered, and Danny reached over to poke him in the ribs.

At the same time, Billy was thinking less about what had already been shown, and more what was upcoming. Not just Tim getting stung, but his own awful experience with the last challenge. He almost suggested they just not watch it, and go to bed instead. Except, they both probably wanted to know how Tim was doing.

Probably, Tim and Clark knew some jungle medicine thing, and everything was fine, now.

They’d waited a half hour after the first heat treatment, before giving Tim another twenty minutes of heat. The broadcast started in the middle of it, eliciting a very different sort of groan from Tim than Clark had grown accustomed to since the sting had happened.

Eventually, of course, the broadcast caught up with where they were; Tim in agony and Clark tending to him. Then it was time for Billy’s final confessional for leaving this farce of a reality TV show.

“So, Billy,” said the Cleric Interviewer. “You made it to third place in this week’s competition.”

“Well, I don’t know what that’s worth,” said Billy, clearly putting on the charm, looking cute and self-deprecating. “There were four of us, and Tim and Danny made sure I wouldn’t be eliminated first.”

“What did you think of that last challenge?” 

“Well,” said Billy, twisting his hands together. “I’d thought Clark was worrying too much, but…I really wasn’t ready for that.”

“Well, no one can say you didn’t try your hardest.”

“I hope so,” said Billy. “I wouldn’t want Fawcett to think I didn’t try.”

“And, I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better than when that last challenge ended.”

“Well, a good meal and a change of clothes’ll do that for you. Can I ask, do you know if Tim’s okay?” 

“Oh, I think he’s in good hands,” said the Cleric. “Is there anything you’d like to tell him?”

“Oh, um, I hope you’re feeling a lot better when you see this,” said Billy.

“Thanks, Billy,” Tim mumbled.

The ‘episode’ ended without much more fanfare. By then, the second heat treatment was over, and Clark had put more paste and a new bandage on, before he pulled Tim up to lean against his chest. 

They were surprised, though, to find that another episode of catching up with the goings on in the dormitory followed it. So they got to watch Billy appearing in the dorm, finding Danny, making a deal with the cleric, and micromanaging the boy into the shower. 

And then, it showed again, Billy asking Danny if he had done anything to take care of himself, before showing a supercut of Danny: crying on the couch, pacing in front of the couch, curled up in a fetal position in the corner, seeming to be having a panic attack, and throwing up in the toilet.

“Picked wrong,” Tim groaned. “Picked really wrong.”

“Best laid plans,” said Clark, ruffling his hair. “There wasn’t necessarily a right choice here.”

Tim shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Looks like…left him alone. Whole time. Billy would have…been fine. Danny, was better here. Would have…taken, the challenge, better.”

“That’s hindsight,” said Clark. “And you know it’s hindsight.”

 “Messed up,” said Tim.

“We’ll do better in the future,” said Clark. “Right now, let’s just worry about getting you better.”

“You should…sleep,” Tim said, focusing more, again, on his breathing.

“I’ll sleep when you do,” said Clark.

They both knew Tim wouldn’t be sleeping that night.

“You need to sleep,” said Alfred.

“I know,” said Bruce, still pouring over ancient arcane documents and their different translations, and giving no indication of stopping.

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder. “Young master Tim may make sleep deprivation look like a super power, at times, but I assure you, you’ll be of no help to him by following that lead.”

“He’s in agony,” Bruce grit out. 

“And that changes the situation here, how?” asked Alfred.

“You’re acting like you don’t-”

“I sat by his side when he was in the throws of the clench,” Alfred reminded him. “I know exactly what Mr. Kent is experiencing at this very moment. If I could sit with him again, then I would, but Tim is not alone. He is not alone, and he knows how to handle such pain. A lesson he should never have had to learn, but hard earned, nonetheless.”

The two of them stared at each other a moment.

Alfred went on. “This is not a problem that will be solved tonight. Likely not tomorrow, either. This is not a sprint, and you know it.”

“They’re going to make me watch my son die,” said Bruce.

“No,” said Alfred. “They took the best of us. Superman’s there, too. Maybe Captain Marvel and this Phantom fellow. That will be their downfall, not Master Timothy’s. Now, come along. I’m sure the young master would be highly disappointed were he to come back and find you a mess.”

Bruce sighed.

“Come along,” said Alfred, placing a hand on his shoulder, and leading him to the changing rooms.

“Miss Fenton,” said Black Canary as she walked into Jazz’s bedroom.

Jazz raised an eyebrow at the woman. 

Sam and Tucker had been released pretty quickly to their parents, but Mom and Dad weren’t back home yet.

Probably for the best.

Jazz didn’t know what she would do when she saw them.

The point was, Jazz was being babysat by the Justice League until someone took responsibility for her, though it was becoming increasingly obvious that it would not be her parents doing so. She was also increasingly worried Vlad would butt in to try and take her home with him. She was pretty sure a social worker should have already been here.

The hero took a seat on Jazz’s bed, so Jazz turned around in her desk chair to face her.

“Is there anything else you can think of, where this storage container your parents are going to would be?”

Was that really what she had come to ask? Jazz had told them what she had known. That with the ops center gone, and the lab compromised, her parents would have likely gone to the storage unit they had…somewhere in Michigan, where they had a lot of back-up equipment. They probably thought the Justice League was entirely compromised by ghosts, or something, so they’d be gone to ground until they could mount a counter-attack. If the Justice League hadn’t been able to find the storage unit, then, well…Probably, Auntie Alicia had set it up. Reluctantly, she gave up her aunt’s info. It was probably pointless. They’d sooner squeeze blood from a stone than get information from Auntie Alicia.

But, honestly, it would be better for everyone if her parents were found before they could do anything else terrible.

“Why did you really come to talk to me?”

Black Canary gave her a tight lipped smile. “Is there anything you can tell us about your brother’s mental health?”

Had Jazz missed something important, tonight?

All of her and Danny’s devices had been confiscated, and the big broadcast in the sky wasn’t visible from her bedroom window. She probably could have gone downstairs to watch on the television, but she had not expected Danny to be featured, and she had been feeling…apathetic.

It was not a feeling she was used to.

“A week ago, I would have said I could write a dissertation on my brother’s mental health,” said Jazz. “Now, apparently he was vivisected by our parents and I never even realized, so…” 

She wasn’t revealing anything by saying so. The Justice League had already found one of Tucker’s earlier hack jobs, less polished than his later work, and had recovered a video of Danny transforming down in the lab. She wondered if they had gotten through the security Tucker had put on Danny’s devices, yet. 

“Why are you asking?”

Black Canary pulled out a tablet and showed Jazz a video. Apparently, Danny had been featured in a bonus video, tonight.

Jazz found her fingers reaching out, and ghosting over the screen, as though she could reach through and pull him in for a hug.

She closed her eyes as tears came to them.

“If he was having episodes like this, then he was hiding them,” she said. “I just…knew that he’d been moodier, lately. Obviously, he has PTSD.”

Black Canary nodded. “Let’s talk about how he was doing, before the incident with your parents.”

“They’re not really our parents, anymore,” said Jazz. “I don’t think they have been, for a while.”

Black Canary waited patiently, while Jazz gathered her thoughts.

“I should start by saying… You know my brother is a halfa. He isn’t the only one. Vlad Masters has had the same powers. His alter ego is Plasmius. AKA the Wisconsin Ghost. He’s obsessed with my brother and mother, and has committed more crimes than I could possibly count. I am worried about him potentially trying to gain custody of me. He’ll be coming up a few times during this conversation.”

(Radio Finance Segment)

“Now, I’ve gotten a lot of questions on Twitter, basically, ‘Should I sell my WEC before tonight’s broadcast, in case Tim dies?’ Now, I should note that WEC has fallen two points since that fish sting.

"By the way, color me surprised that fish can sting. You find out something new every day.

“But, here’s the thing. And, first of all, our thoughts and prayers go out to Tim, wishing him a speedy recovery. But, when Steve Jobs died, AAPL fell five points, immediately. And that’s the difference, you had Steve Jobs, a visionary, who was entirely integral to the trajectory of Apple, and you have Tim, sixteen, you know, no one really thinks he’s pulling all the levers, behind the scenes. But, Wayne Enterprises has an excellent C-suite, keeping things running. The company is a juggernaut that is going to keep on chugging, whatever we find out during tonight’s broadcast. 

“On the other hand…depending on how tonight goes, reactionaries in the market may well make tonight a great time to buy WEC, and that’s all I’ll say on that.”

…

(Twitter Posts)

@SurfLifeSteven

Great, so, my daughters begged to be allowed to watch the broadcast, last night, and I’m a schmuck so I agreed. Now they’re refusing to ever go back into the water! 

#FML #AtlasBroadcast #BroadcastDay6

@BillyBatsonRP

Hey everybody, looks like I won’t be continuing in Survivor. Sorry Fawcett. But the clerics are letting me and Danny log onto social media. I don’t really know what to say, so ask me anything.

#AtlasBroadcast #AtlasRP #BillyBatson #BillyBatsonRP

@DannyFentonRP

Replying to @BillyBatsonRP

Actually Billy, why don’t I start things off. I think we’ve all been wondering why you were living on the streets.

#AtlasBroadcast #AtlasRP #BillyBatson #BillyBatsonRP #DannyFenton #DannyFentonRP

@BillyBatsonRP

Replying to @DannyFentonRP

Aw geez, Danny, going straight for the big one. Well, the truth is, I had some really messed up foster parents, if you know what I mean. Don’t worry though, I’m really independent and I do great on my own. Or, well, at least I did until now.

#AtlasBroadcast #AtlasRP #BillyBatson #BillyBatsonRP #DannyFenton #DannyFentonRP

@DannyFentonRP

Replying to @BillyBatsonRP

Oh wow, Billy, I had no idea. I’m glad you got out of that, but I’m even more glad you found us. We’ll be your family now.

#AtlasBroadcast #AtlasRP #BillyBatson #BillyBatsonRP #DannyFenton #DannyFentonRP

@GodotWaits

Replying to @BillyBatsonRP

Okay Billy, how about you tell us how you were really getting by on the streets. What were you doing to make money?

#AtlasBroadcast #AtlasRP #BillyBatson #BillyBatsonRP

@BillyBatsonRP

Replying to @GadotWaits

Well, I don’t want to give too much away. I’m a bit shy about it. 

#AtlasBroadcast #AtlasRP #BillyBatson #BillyBatsonRP

@YMCAOfficial

Our thoughts and prayers go out to the Atlas abductees. We would like to take this moment to remind parents the gift of swim lessons is life saving and lasts a lifetime. Check your local YMCA for lesson availability.

#YMCASwim #AtlasBroadcast

@RationalMinxCatcher

Some people can be entirely asinine about the broadcasts. The Hollywood Bowl is perfectly positioned to see the broadcast in the sky, but they refuse to sell tickets for outdoor watch parties. They could be making money hand over fist, but they get butthurt having feelings about ‘bloodsport.’

#AtlasBroadcast #ViewingParty #HollywoodBowl

@hobbsTheory

Replying to @RationalMinxCatcher

If not bloodsport, then what would you call it? People are being forced against their will to play potentially deadly games. For crying out loud, siccing a tiger on someone would have been expected in the Roman Colosseum.

#AtlasBroadcast #BroadcastBoycott #Bloodsport

@PastorMathias

Replying to @hobbsTheory

I am sick of people comparing the oppression of Christians in the Colosseum to ‘metahumans’ paying the price for their pagan worship as one of their false gods has turned against them. True power comes only from the grace of the one true god. I think people absolutely should see what these ‘powerful’ metas become when they pay for their sins.

#SalvationThroughGod #NoMuttas #NoFalseGods

…

(Local Broadcast Commercial)

Come on down to Carole’s Trampoline Gym every evening at five-thirty. We have removed all screens and blocked out windows that face the sky projections. Protect your children from the broadcasts and come have fun. We won’t close until the broadcast is over. Our gym has five play areas for different age groups, newly installed cellphone lockers, and our dining area is now stocked with board games for kids who’ve bounced out all their energy. So turn off the screens and come have some family fun at Carole’s. 

…

(YouTube)

“Hello everyone, welcome back to Creatures of the Depths, no surprise about what we’ll be talking about, today.”

(A number of screen captured comments pop onto the screen, one after the other, referencing the Atlas Broadcast, Tim Drake-Wayne, and the stonefish.)

“A few people even said they didn’t think there were any vertebrate fish that could sting.  Apparently, they missed my video on the Scorpaenidae Family. Go watch it now. 

“The stonefish is the most venomous member of this family, the most venomous fish in the ocean, and one of the most venomous creatures on Earth. Its sting is survivable, but it can be deadly. 

“This is a fish that fears no predators, because it knows that the moment you attack is the moment you’re running away in agony.  Literally, you can walk right up to them in a tide pool, and they will not give a f*#k. 

“Tim Drake-Wayne was correct, that hot water is an effective treatment that denatures the venom. Given that he was stung four times, and it’s not clear how fast he would have gotten that treatment, it’s not clear they will be able to stop it spreading to the rest of the body. If you have kids at home, maybe don’t let them watch tomorrow’s broadcast until you know how it turned out. 

“Now, one thing Tim got wrong about Stonefish was when he said to watch out in tide pools. Yes, they are often found there, but it ignores the fact they can often be found on dry land, because they can survive there for up to twenty. Four. Hours. Because of their coloration, they are often mistaken for coral or rock. In fact, in Australia…”

…

(Entertainment Weekly)

Atlas Broadcast vs. Survivor: The Last Breath

The Last Breath is a game ripped right from the show, but producers say the clerics get everything wrong about safety…

Billy had hugged Danny, that next morning, said, “You’re welcome,” and gone to eat a breakfast burrito.

Billy was apparently determined to continue taking care of Danny. When Danny had walked out of the bedroom, Billy told him to get something to eat. Danny would have told him he could take care of himself, but…

Seeing that video of himself last night had been mortifying. It also rather left him in a position where he couldn’t exactly claim with a straight face that he could take care of himself.

He grabbed himself a tub of cottage cheese and sat down with it.

Billy raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to put anything in it?” he asked.

“You going to make me put fruit in it?” asked Danny.

“Nah, I’m just going to judge you,” said Billy.

Danny rolled his eyes.

The truth was, he was mostly just eating because Billy would say something if he didn’t. He wasn’t hungry. He started shoving cottage cheese into his mouth, anyway.

The thought that his life was over wouldn’t leave his head.

“So, think you can manage any mad science in here?” asked Billy.

“Uh, what?” asked Danny.

“Like you and Tim did on the island,” said Billy.

“I mean, that was more Tim’s thing than mine,” said Danny. “What would I even do?”

“Make weapons for the next event thing?”

Danny shook his head. “The last time they took us somewhere, they chose exactly what we’d have with us. Tim and I gave you stuff, and you didn’t get to bring it with you.”

“Maybe this time’ll be different,” said Billy.

Danny started looking around the dorm. “I don’t even know, really,” he said. “The only portable power sources we have are the phone batteries and Tim’s taser. The phone batteries aren’t really powerful enough to do much, and the taser’s already a weapon.”

It wasn’t entirely true. Danny thought he could probably make a very basic ecto-battery, and power it with his own ectoplasm, but…that would rather be giving himself away. 

Wasn’t his life already over?

Danny shook his head. “If you want some sort of chemical weapon, I mean, we don’t even have any cleaning chemicals other than soap and conditioner in the bathroom and dish soap and those disinfecting wipes in the kitchen. Vinegar. I can’t think of anything we could do with that. Maybe I’ll look at the ingredients, later…Other than that, we can make primitive weapons. Maybe spears? Honestly, I think our best bet would be making belt sheaths and trying to take the steak knives with us.”

Billy pouted.

“You any good at origami?” asked Danny. 

“Origami?” asked Billy.

“We don’t have a sewing kit, but we have those new desks over there.”

There were indeed new desks over to the side of their living space, now. Two of them, likely for Danny and Billy’s newly provided school work. Neither of them had investigated them, yet, but Danny figured there was probably paper in there, maybe even tape. 

“Do you know origami?” asked Billy.

“I dabbled, when I was in the sixth grade,” said Danny.

“I guess we could try that,” said Billy. “I do have a belt.”

“I think I’m the only one, without. I don’t know, I should be able to fashion something.”

Danny considered Billy.

“Are you just trying to keep me busy, or something?”

“What?” said Billy. “Me? I’m a baby! How could a little Baby Billy be trying to take care of a big gross teenager?”

“Gross,” Danny deadpanned.

“Stinky, acne riddled, horny; probably kiss people and have crushes.”

“Could do with more kisses,” said Danny.

“Blegh!”

“Careful calling yourself Baby Billy,” said Danny. “It’ll catch on more than it already has.”

Billy threw a piece of potato that had fallen from his burrito at Danny.

“Also, do you see any acne on me? That’s one problem I don’t have.”

After his ice core had developed, Sam had had the brilliant idea that he could flash freeze his skin every night, and stop any bacteria growing there. So far, it had been working like a charm. Though…he hadn’t done it since this had all started.

How was everyone doing, back at home? He had no way of checking on them. No way of knowing what they’d be facing, come tomorrow.

He shook his head. “Any idea what Tim and Clark will be facing today?” he asked.

“You said it’s a vote?” said Billy. “That you and I would be voting, because that’s what they do in Survivor?”

Danny shook his head. “In the broadcast last night, they said that the winner of the challenge would have an advantage in today’s challenge. So…it’s not a vote.”

Billy frowned. 

“Then, I have no idea,” he said. “It would be pretty ridiculous if it was something physical, though.”

“I mean, even that tile game was a little physical,” said Danny, “and that was supposed to be more mental.”

“I don’t know,” said Billy.

Danny shoved another bite of cottage cheese into his mouth.

The seizure hit in the middle of the night, about an hour after Tim had noted an intense headache.

It was mild, more of a faint quivering, and it lasted only a few seconds. Tim passed out for maybe a half hour, afterwards, but then he woke up screaming and delirious. Clark just held him, because it was all he could do. Tim wanted to know when his parents would be coming home, and said he was sorry for breaking his arm. In another moment, Tim had thought his arm had been encased in ice by Dr. Freeze, and Clark had shushed him, lest talk of a Gotham rogue lead him to say anything incriminating. The boy passed out again, not long before twilight began heralding the rising of the sun. 

Clark scanned him with his x-ray vision. Mild inflammation, and signs of heightened activity in the brain. No signs of cell death. Looking over the rest of Tim’s body, Clark noted much more inflammation, and…

Since when was Tim missing his spleen?!

That was very much something Clark was supposed to know about.

Tim had awoken again shortly after sunrise, and seemed better. He was coherent, at the very least, and reported the pain had improved. He knew his name, who the president was, and where they were. He knew why he was in so much pain.

“It’s just tomorrow, right?” he asked. 

“It’s just the day after the sting,” said Clark, “so just imagine how much better you’ll be feeling with some more R and R.

Clark did not stray far from Tim, that morning, except to fetch more coconuts. The coconut water made for a decent rehydration solution, and the flesh a decent snack when Tim felt like he could actually eat something. Tim mostly focused on his breathing, and fell back asleep perhaps an hour before noon. 

They were definitely past the worst of it. Now they just had to hope the Tantalans weren’t going to find some new way to torment him, whenever the final challenge would be. 

Or before it, given that the tiger had attacked during their downtime. There was a reason Clark was staying very close.

Regardless of his vigilance, there was nothing he could do to stop the Game Master from suddenly appearing next to Tim as the sun sat high in the sky, sitting on the ground next to Tim’s pallet. 

“Hasn’t he been through enough?” Clark asked. 

“Hasn’t he, indeed,” said the Game Master. “The game is almost over, though. If you could, please make your way down to the amphitheater for this game’s final judgement.”

“You know, you could always teleport us there,” said Clark. “Or better yet, let Tim sleep a little longer.”

“The sooner this is over, the sooner he’ll be on the mend,” the Game Master said with a smile before he disappeared.

Clark wondered what they would do if Clark just didn’t take Tim down to the amphitheater. Maybe decide that neither of them would win, and no city would be immune from the next event. He knew what Tim would want him to do. Reluctantly, Clark knelt down next to Tim to place a hand on the boy’s good shoulder.

“Tim, buddy, it’s time,” he said.

Tim groaned and squeezed his eyes tighter shut. 

“It’s almost over,” Clark reassured him.

“Promise?” Tim asked.

“As much as I can,” said Clark.

Tim opened his eyes, squinting against the light. 

“I got you,” said Clark.

Tim shook his head. “Help me stand up.”

“Tim,” Clark tried to admonish.

“I should stretch my legs before whatever this is,” said Tim.

“Well, I reserve the right to pick you up at any point.”

“You’re the best,” said Tim.

He didn’t feel like it.

He helped Tim sit up and then stand. Tim stood there, breathing with his eyes closed.

“We’ll get some fluids in you,” said Clark. 

“I’ll see what I can manage,” said Tim.

Not very much, as it turned out. Tim’s stomach was still troubling him, and Clark was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t thrown up was through sheer force of will.

Tim managed twenty-three steps, with Clark at his side, before he stopped, swaying a little.

“Alright,” said Clark. “Let’s get you off your feet.”

Tim nodded, and Clark gathered the boy up in his arms. Tim whimpered from the pain of it.

“We’ll have you in a real bed, soon,” said Clark.

“Mmm,” said Tim. “Could use some…TV, to take my mind off.”

“Alright,” said Clark as he took off down the path, “so Lois and I have been very slowly watching old episodes of the original Battlestar Galactica.”

“Oh yeah?” said Tim. “Very slowly?”

“Well, we’re both very busy people,” said Clark, “and meanwhile, Jon has his own shows he watches.”

“TV in the kid’s room,” said Tim. “A parent’s best friend.”

“Over my dead body,” said Clark.

Tim huffed a hoarse laugh.

“Are you familiar with the modern incarnation,” said Clark.

“I’ve seen it,” said Tim.

“Hm,” said Clark. “Not sure you’re old enough.”

“Shut up,” said Tim.

“So, same premise, it all starts when the Cylons wipe out all but a small fraction of the human population…”

Bruce took to the podium, the flash of camera lights going off in his face. This was his first public appearance since Tim had been abducted. Predictably, his calling of a press conference had gotten a lot of attention. 

He cleared his throat, the very picture of an aggrieved and scared father. He wasn’t even acting, really. He hoped it was counterbalanced by the setting, the imposing atrium at the entryway of Wayne Enterprises, to give weight to what he was offering. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I won’t be answering questions unrelated to what I called this conference for. As you all know, my son Tim has been abducted by this alien being, and is suffering right now from a horrible painful toxin. Two other children, and Clark Kent, a good man, are in terrible danger, as well.  

“It has become clear, at this point, this is a problem the Justice League does not have the ability to solve. Though, I’m sure they’ve done everything they can. 

“That is why I am offering a five hundred million dollar bounty to anyone who can present to the Justice League a method they can successfully implement to rescue the hostages.”

There had been a good bit of debate about this. They didn’t want any Tom, Dick, or Harry who happened to have some obscure knowledge or ability tearing off to go fight a god. But they were at a dead end when it came to methods to try and rescue the abductees. 

The assembled reporters all started clamoring for his attention. 

“Mr. Parson, from the Times,” he called on. 

“Mr. Wayne, is your bounty entirely contingent upon Justice League involvement?”

“That’s right,” said Bruce. “I want my son home safely, but I don’t want anyone tearing off recklessly, and possibly putting the abductees in further danger. I’ve been advised to clarify that no bounty will be awarded without Justice League pre-approval.”

“How did you come to the half-billion dollar amount?” Was the question from the next reporter.

“I had to consider that anyone who may have an ability or knowledge on how to handle this situation, but has declined to come forward already, must have their reasons to remain private. I’m hoping this dollar amount will be a good enough incentive for them to come forward. I will also refrain from publicly naming anyone who comes forward, if that is their wish.”

“Was your decision to offer this bounty influenced by the events of last night?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Wayne, what is the funding source for this bounty?”

“An undisclosed amount is coming from Wayne Enterprises kidnapping insurance policy,” said Bruce. “The rest is from my personal accounts.”

“How is Wayne Enterprises moving forward without its CEO?”

“That’s off topic,” said Bruce, before calling on the next reporter. 

“Have you already consulted with the Justice League concerning this plan?”

“I have, and I received their blessing. Wayne Enterprises is also hosting a hotline for people to call if they would like to come forward with their proposal.”

Hopefully it wouldn’t just field calls from cranks. 

Danny and Billy had been working on their knife sheath idea when noon came around. A sheath on its own was easy, just fold the paper around the blade a few times and tape it closed. It was more than enough to contain the blade. Then they decided to wrap the whole thing in tape, so it wouldn’t fall apart the instant it got wet. They’d been trying to figure the best way to incorporate a loop for a belt. Danny felt like he was onto something, threading a thin strip of paper through a slit he’d made in the sheath, towards the middle, and then looping it up over the lip and down to thread through again. Tape a new strip to the end when it got short, and loop it through a couple more times. Wrap it in tape. 

“Eh?” he prompted at Billy, who had been trying to follow through on Danny’s original idea of origami. He held up his creation, just as white light overtook them.

“You know, there’s no reason not to give us a warning,” said Billy.

“Welcome back to Survivor!” 

“Tim!” Danny shouted, running over to where Tim was seated in the amphitheater. He hesitated, just short of the older boy. “Are you okay?”

Tim didn’t look okay. He’d been sat with his face in one hand, his good hand, and his other arm dangling limp between his legs. He was sweating and had a slight tremor to him. When he looked up at Danny, his eyes were half-lidded with bags under them.

“I’m on the mend,” said Tim.

Danny swallowed harshly.

“I should have made good on my threat to eliminate you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. 

“I seem to recall having a say in that,” he said. 

“I wish I could have helped, last night,” said Billy.

When Tim looked over at Billy, Danny saw a question in his eyes. He couldn’t fathom what it could be about. 

“I liked your message, last night,” was all Tim said.

Billy shrugged. “Wasn’t much.”

“I hope you boys have been taking care of yourselves,” said Clark.

Danny cringed. Of course, Clark and Tim had seen the broadcast, last night, and knew that no, Danny had not been taking care of himself.

“Danny and I were working on a cool project this morning. We’ll show you, later.”

“Now, Danny, Billy, I’m sure you’d like the chance to catch up more with your fellow competitors, and you’ll have that chance, soon,” said the cleric. “In the meantime, though, we have a final challenge for our Survivors.”

“How’s Tim supposed to do anything, huh?!” Danny suddenly exploded, a sudden pressure inside of him. “After what you did to him!”

Danny suddenly found himself seated at the top of the Amphitheater, next to Billy. 

“Tim will have to manage,” said the Game Master. “And, after all, he does have an advantage this time.”

Danny felt like his chest was going to cave in.

“It’s almost over,” Billy said, trying to help, because Danny was still making Billy take care of him.

He put his face in his hands, trying to take deep breaths. 

He was falling apart, and he knew it.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Clark as Tim worried.

“Indeed,” said the cleric. “Clark, Tim, this upcoming challenge is both very simple, and terribly complex. It’s a game I believe you are both familiar with.”

They waved their hand and, just as with the arm wrestling match, a table and two chairs appeared. Only, the table wasn’t empty; there was a chess board and a game clock.

Tim blinked rapidly a few times.

Well.

This was actually something he could do, just…

Clark could do it immeasurably better than him. Not that either of them were chess masters, in any classical sense. Tim had studied the game for a little while and gotten decent at it. Clark, Tim had watched him play Flash, once, the both of them with their cognition sped up, able to consider a dozen moves forward in the time it would take a normal man to consider three. Clark could brute force the game like a computer would. Tim couldn’t beat him on a good day, and this was incredibly far and away from a good day.

Except, Tim had an advantage?

Clark helped Tim over to the table, where Tim slumped against his good arm. The chess board was perpendicular to them, white and black up in the air.

“Tim,” said the cleric, “in the last challenge, you surpassed both Billy and Clark, remaining under water far longer than either of them by virtue of your preparedness in having a rebreather. You’ve won a strong advantage in this round.”

“Is that why you nerfed me?” asked Tim.

“You’ll have two choices to make,” said the cleric, holding his palms up as the two kings appeared in them. “You can choose, white or black. You may also choose one of the remaining pieces on the board to remove.”

Tim blinked.

Huh.

The obvious choice would be pick white to go first, and remove Clark’s queen. Maybe black, to assess Clark’s strategy from his opening move?

It was pointless. Clark could win without his queen. Hell, Tim might pass out before the game even finished. 

Tim needed…

He needed a sure thing. He needed a sure thing, in as few moves as possible.

He thought back to his early studies of chess. 

The fastest checkmate.

There was the Fool’s Mate. That relied on the opponent immediately making two idiotic mistakes. There was no potential there.

The Scholar’s Mate. Checkmate in four moves. Hardly a sure thing, in four moves. A competent opponent could block it. But Tim could do it in three.

He tried to make his exhausted brain work, trying to see if there was any way Clark could get out of it.

Only, Tim couldn’t quite envision all the possible moves in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think.

“Tim,” the cleric prompted.

Taking a couple of short breaths, Tim opened his eyes and took the white king from the cleric’s hand. The chess board rotated on its own, the white pieces positioning in front of Tim as the black king appeared in place. Tim set down his own king, and took the pawn from in front of it off the board.

Clark took a moment.

“Oh,” he said. 

“Sorry, Clark,” said Tim, reassured by the man’s reaction. “No hard feelings?”

Clark sighed. “I’d have done the same, if I would have thought of it.”

“There’s twenty minutes on the clocks, Survivors,” said the cleric. “The game starts, now.”

Tim made his opening move, sending out his king-side bishop, as he considered the clock.

They each had twenty minutes. 

Yes, Tim could end this in three moves, but that didn’t mean Clark had to make it easy on him.

Sure enough, after Tim’s opening move, Clark just sat there, studying the board.

“Really, Clark?” asked Tim. 

“Hm?”

“I promise you, I’m not going to pass out in the next twenty minutes.”

“You sure?” asked Clark.

Tim groaned. His arm was throbbing. His head hurt. His everything hurt. He needed so much sleep. He just wanted this to be over.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” said Clark.

“Aw, I’d do the same thing,” said Tim, putting his face in his hand.

Clark started humming gently.

“Is that a freaking lullaby?” asked Tim.

Clark just kept humming.

Tim’s first thought, stupid thought, was that Clark would wait around six-and-a-half minutes before making a move. But that would prompt activity out of Tim, to respond. Clark didn’t need to space the moves out evenly. He could just wait until near the very end of his time. It gave Tim the best chance of passing out. 

Tim sat up in his seat, his head throbbing. Clark seemed to wince a little in guilt, but he persisted.

Tim wanted to put his head down so bad. But, if there was anything Bat training was good for, it was sheer stubbornness in the face of your entire body telling you to quit. Tim had spent the whole night in agony. He could handle twenty minutes of sitting across from Clark.

He wanted to make some sort of quip. Something about Clark’s lullaby being bad, and Jon not sleeping because of it? He also didn’t really want to open his mouth.

Was this entertaining? 

The Tantalans would probably edit it down and give it lots of commentary. Music, too.

Tim found himself with his face in the palm of his good hand. When had that happened? He sat up with a start, giving Clark an accusatory glare.

A bed sounded so nice, right about then. Maybe a cool shower. That could be really nice. But mostly, Tim just wanted to lay down on a soft mattress with soft sheets, and a fluffy blanket. 

He jerked his head up again. Ten minutes, and twenty-seven seconds had passed. This was ass.

“Okay, some hard feelings,” said Tim. 

“No one would blame you if you fell asleep, Tim,” said Clark.

“I would,” said Tim. “I’d blame me.”

“You can rest,” said Clark, and the words were heavy on Tim’s shoulders.

“I can’t,” said Tim, trying to sit up as straight as he could. It jostled his arm, painfully.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” said Clark. He resumed his humming. 

Tim squeezed his eyes shut. Not in a restful way. He just didn’t want to see anything for a moment. How could he sleep? His head was still pounding. 

His head was in his hand, again.

Fifteen minutes.

Tim pinched his arm with a hiss.

“Tim!” Clark admonished. 

“Any time you wanna go, weather man,” said Tim. There were tears on his face. He brought a trembling hand up to wipe them away. 

“Hey, now, weather forecasters are talented hard-working individuals,” said Clark. “I’d be honored to be among them.”

“Just, it’s not going to work, Clark,” said Tim. “Just get this over with.”

“I’m sorry,” said Clark.

Tim focused on his breathing.

He focused a little too much on his breathing, and jerked up a minute later. He glared at the clock.

Tim pinched his arm again.

With a sigh, Clark moved a pawn and tapped the clock. Tim almost knocked over his queen-side bishop, moving the queen into position. He tapped the clock back.

Clark considered Tim again, then moved another pawn. Tim’s bishop took the pawn diagonal from the king.

“Checkmate,” said Tim.

Clark nodded.

“Oh, Ancients, I’m glad that’s over,” said Danny.

Tim considered, suddenly, the cleric had probably done something to keep their commentary from reaching the game, because he hadn’t heard a peep from Danny or Billy the entire time. 

“And that’s game!” called out the cleric. “In just three moves, Tim has secured a decisive victory! Tim, how are you feeling?”

“Really bad,” said Tim.

Too honest? Not honest enough?

Gotham was safe. That was what mattered.

Tim put his head down on his good arm on the table, breathing hard. Tears came to his eyes, and he started trembling. It was over.

He’d done it.

“You’ve won Survivor, securing immunity for Gotham from the upcoming event. You have persevered through terrible hardship. In recognition of all you have endured and accomplished, in the name of Antantlous, be healed!”

Tim blinked rapidly as a sharp, though painless, feeling seemed to flood from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes, like ice through his veins, making him gasp.

He didn’t hurt.

He didn’t hurt at all. He was still exhausted, but…

Tim took a deep breath, shuddering a little for the tears still falling down his face, and pulled the bandage off his hand. It looked fine. It looked perfectly fine, and it felt fine, and Tim moved the fingers around without issue. 

He took a deep breath, and collapsed his head down onto his arms, falling fast asleep.

The Tantalans were content to let Tim sleep, but Clark was pulled in for a confessional just about right away.

“Oh, Clark, you came so close to winning, today. How are you feeling about your loss.”

Clark took a breath. “I hope your god is a merciful one. I’m worried about everyone back home.”

“Well, you’ll definitely have a chance to protect everyone moving forward, so don’t give up hope,” said the Interviewer. “But with all your worry about home, did you ever consider sabotaging Tim after the penultimate challenge?”

Clark leveled them with a hard stare. “Tim was suffering right in front of me. I was never not going to take care of him.”

“Can you tell me about that chess match?”

Clark sighed. “I think it was all very self-evident. By removing that specific pawn, Tim was able to remove any possibility of me stopping him from completing a checkmate in just three moves. My only hope was to delay, and hope he passed out.”

“And what was it like, taking care of Tim, last night?”

“Harrowing,” said Clark. “I still take umbrage with the fact Tim was subjected to that.”

“Would you say that you and Tim have grown closer from this experience?”

Clark seethed.

“Stop!” Danny whisper shouted.

“I just want to check on him!”

“You’re going to wake him up!”

“What if he needs-”

“He needs to sleep!”

“I can hear you,” said Tim, looking over his shoulder at them.

Danny and Billy stopped where they were, Danny in the doorway to the bedroom, and Billy trying to squeeze around him.

“You doing okay?”  asked Billy.

“Mmm,” Tim hummed in agreement.

“Need anything?” asked Danny.

“Wake me up in an hour,” said Tim.

“I told you he needs sleep,” Danny hissed at Billy.

Billy made a face at him.

“You’re all better?” asked Billy.

Tim nodded, laying his head back down.

“Mm, think my spleen grew back,” he said, drifting off again.

That brought Billy and Danny up short.

“Did he just say-”

Danny muscled Billy away from the door and closed it behind him.

“I told you to let him sleep,” said Danny.

“What if he wasn’t okay? He could still have, like, internal bleeding, or something,” said Billy.

“Internal bleeding from what?” 

“Like, from the venom breaking stuff down inside of him.”

“I think we’d have noticed by now if that was happening,” said Danny.

“Hmph.”

“Did you know he was missing a spleen?” asked Billy.

“Nah,” said Danny. 

“Do you…know what the spleen does?” asked Billy.

“Uh, I think it’s vestigial? Like, a leftover from evolution that doesn’t have a point anymore.”

“I know what vestigial is!”

“Good for you!”

“I can still hear you!” Tim called from the bedroom.

The two of them traded guilty looks and made their way from the door.

“Your brain’s vestigial,” said Billy.

“Your whole existence is vestigial,” said Danny.

Billy was suddenly scowling sharply at him. “You take that back!” he said with such heat that Danny was taken by surprise.

“I…what? We were joking around?”

“So you won’t have any problem taking it back!”

“Okay, I take it back, jeez,” said Danny.

What was his problem?

The problem suddenly hit Danny. That Billy was a homeless orphan, who might be sensitive to his whole life being called pointless.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. 

“Whatever,” said Billy.

Danny sighed, and flopped himself down on the couch. He wished Clark were there. Normally, Danny wasn’t used to the feeling of wishing for an adult. Here, though…

Besides, Clark was a solid guy; whether he was Superman, or not.

Danny wasn’t feeling very solid, lately.

Distantly, he was aware of Billy coming over and turning on the television, but without any accompanying audio playing. 

“Huh,” said Billy.

“What?”

“Doctors on Twitter have come out to say that the hot water treatment should have been for a lot longer than twenty minutes at a time,” said Billy.

“Huh,” said Danny, glancing up to see Billy was on that weird combined social media feed. “Good to know if there’s ever another stonefish attack.”

“It is good to know,” said Billy, in the face of Danny’s sardonics.

Danny directed his attention back to the carpet. He didn’t want to see what people on the internet were saying about him.

“We should have lunch,” said Billy.

“Wait for Clark to get back, at least,” said Danny.

“Why?” asked Billy.

“What do you mean, ‘why’, it’s polite!” Danny said, picking his head back up.

“Hmm,” Billy said doubtfully. “You’re not just trying to get out of eating because you’re super depressed?”

“I’m not depressed!”

“Uh huh,” said Billy.

“And I’m just saying, wait five minutes for Clark to get back, because it’s polite.”

“Do we have to wait for Tim to wake up?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“Oh my god, I’m too depressed to be having this conversation.”

“Pft.”

Forget his parents, Billy was going to be the final death of him.

Then, Danny caught the tweet that was currently up on the screen, and was quick to grab one of the remotes to skip to the next thing in the feed.

“What was that?” asked Billy.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Danny.

Billy had his own remote, and went back.

If I was the one up there I’d have taken my belt to that brats ass the moment he opened his ungrateful street mouth. #atlasbroadcast #billybrat #corporalpro

“That’s messed up,” said Danny.

“Meh,” said Billy.

“It’s probably only been boosted because everyone hates it so much,” said Danny. “Look, it’s been ratio’d.”

“You know, in Pennsylvania, it’s illegal to hit foster kids.”

“Uh, good,” said Danny, not sure why Billy was mentioning it.

“Doesn’t mean it never happens.”

“Someone was beating you?!”

“I got whooped a couple of times,” Billy said, waving his hand dismissively. “And then they lost their foster care license. The point is, you don’t need to protect me from seeing something mean someone wrote on the internet.”

Danny stewed a moment as he used his remote to make the feed go back on auto play. 

“Don’t tell me it didn’t feel bad to see that,” he said.

“It didn’t feel great, but it’s whatever.”

“Billy brat,” Danny said derisively. “Those assholes.”

“I am a brat,” said Billy.

What did that have to do with anything?

“They’re judging you like they know what you’re going through while they’re sitting at home watching you almost drown. They’re talking like they want to beat you up about it!”

“Dude, it’s just talk.”

“Oh sure, it’s just talk, until they get their chance!” Danny cried, his heart hammering in his chest, the taste of adrenaline on his tongue.

“You’re going to wake up Tim,” Billy said, looking warily at him.

“I-”

Danny looked back down. 

“It’s just messed up,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Billy.

Danny rolled over, facing the back of the couch.

He shouldn’t have freaked out like that on Billy.

The conversation was over. Billy went back to watching the feed, and Danny could hear him making little reactions. The occasional annoyed huff, the occasional chuff of a laugh. Danny still didn’t want to know what people were saying about him. About any of them. Except, shouldn’t he know? Didn’t he need to know?

“Oh my god. Oh my god! This is perfect!”

“What?” asked Danny.

“You got homework!” Billy crowed.

“What?” asked Danny.

He twisted around to look at the screen and saw, to his horror, a tweet from the Casper High account.

“No…” he said.

Billy was cackling.

“You got homework!”

And he did. Reading assignments, workbook assignments. An essay!

“You gonna write it down?” asked Billy.

“No,” said Danny. “We never saw this.”

“You know, they’re going to show you saying that on the broadcast.”

Danny screamed into a throw pillow.

“Come on, write it down,” said Billy. “I want to go back to the feed.”

“You know, if I’m going down, you’re going down, too,” said Danny. “Everyone’s going to expect you to be doing homework if I’m doing it.”

“Well, I’m not anti-education, like some people,” said Billy.

“I’m not anti-education! I just don’t think I should have to be-”

“Is that your homework, Danny?” asked Clark, suddenly there.

Danny collapsed back onto the couch with a groan.

“How many people boosted that, to get it trending?” he asked.

“Over three million people,” said Billy.

Danny groaned again.

“You live in the most haunted place in America, and your school is called Casper High?” said Clark, coming to stand behind the couch.

“Uh huh,” said Danny. “Marley Elementary. Hamlet Middle. We got a theme.”

“Well, okay then,” said Clark.

“And they’re haunted?” asked Billy.

“Casper is, at least,” said Danny.

He heard a pencil scratching.

“Are you writing down my homework?” he asked Clark.

“Mm-hm,” said Clark.

“This is tyranny,” said Danny. 

“You yell at CAN3?” Billy asked Clark. 

“I had some stern words for them,” said Clark, as he took a seat on the other armchair. 

Then, he suddenly picked up a remote and paused the feed, going back to one of the posts. 

“Huh.”

Danny couldn’t see anything special about it. It was just a post from someone speculating on whether there could be any long term effects from the stonefish stings, in spite of the healing.

Although… Billy, too, seemed to take special notice.

Clark unpaused the feed. “Did you boys have lunch, yet?”

“No, Danny said we had to wait for you,” said Billy, as though nothing was amiss.

“Oh, that was nice of you, Danny. I guess Tim’s still sleeping?” 

“Yeah,” said Danny.

Clark sighed. “One of these days, we’ll have a nice sit-down meal, all four of us, from start to finish.”

“Already planning days ahead?” Danny asked, his voice a little muffled from the pillow it was smooshed on.

“Hmmm, I suppose I am,” said Clark. “It seems…prudent, at this point. Alright, let’s get some lunch, and then I definitely need a shower.”

“Just don’t wake up Tim,” said Billy.

“Oh, now you don’t want to wake up Tim,” said Danny. 

“I didn’t want to wake him up! I wanted to-”

“Alright, is this something that needs to be rehashed?” asked Clark.

“Well, I guess not,” said Billy.

Okay. Yeah. Clark was solid.

Danny took a breath and pushed up from the couch. 

“You going to eat, Danny?” asked Billy.

“Stop acting like I’m going to starve myself!”

“Again,” said Billy.

Danny was definitely going to strangle this kid.

Billy watched Danny shove his latest creation into his mouth with a sort of awestruck disgust.

“You’re doing that on purpose, now,” he accused.

“You’ll never know,” said Danny around a mouthful of Triscuits dipped in strawberry yogurt and pickles.

“May I try?” asked Clark.

Danny held out the box of Triscuits to him, and Clark followed through, and dipped a Triscuit in yogurt, topped it with a tiny little pickle, and popped it in his mouth.

“Hm,” the man said. “It’s an interesting mouth experience.”

Billy laughed. “An interesting mouth experience,” he mocked. 

“You wanna try?” asked Danny.

“Nu uh,” said Billy. “I’ve gone dumpster diving, and I don’t wanna try that.”

Danny gave him the oh-my-god-I-forgot-you-were-a-tragic-Dickensian-orphan-baby look, and Billy waved him off, going back to his club sandwich.

“Hey, guys,” said Tim, rubbing at his eyes from the doorway.

“I thought you were going to sleep for an hour,” said Danny.

Tim shrugged and yawned. 

And disappeared.

“You couldn’t let him eat lunch first?!” Danny shouted at the ceiling.

“Hey,” said Clark, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “He’ll be back in a few.”

“It’s just so messed up,” Danny complained. “How are they not even going to let him eat lunch, or take a shower, or anything?”

“At least they let him have a nap,” Billy said dryly, not to defend the clerics, or anything, but just to say something. 

Danny’s leg was shaking under the table, and no one said anything for a moment.

“So, Billy,” said Clark. “You have any weird food preferences of your own?”

“My food preferences are normal and good,” said Billy.

Danny snorted.

“I really like funnel cake,” said Billy.

“Funnel cake, huh,” said Clark. “We’ll have to get you some, after we get out of here.”

Billy gave him a wary glance; not necessarily liking the implication.

Still, he wished he could have an open conversation with Clark. Through the whole meal, he had been wondering what Clark had decoded in that message from Cyborg, earlier. If Billy had been able to write it down, he could have deciphered it, he was pretty sure, but it just wasn’t something he could do in his head without the Wisdom of Solomon. 

“How about you, Danny, anything you’re looking forward to when we get out of here?” asked Clark.

Danny blinked a few times, and Billy imagined he was thinking about something so gross, even he couldn’t say it out loud.

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Danny after just a moment. “The Nasty Burger.”

“So you admit you like nasty foods!”

“It’s just what the local burger place is called,” said Danny, rolling his eyes. “They’ve got a special sauce. It’s a health and safety violation, to be certain, but it’s delicious. You get it on your burger, on your fries, in your shake.”

Billy gagged.

“Something tells me you’re not joking on that last one,” said Clark, making a face of his own.

“All the cool kids are doing it,” said Danny.

“Then there must be something in the water,” said Billy.

“Oh, there’s definitely something in the water,” said Danny.

“Should I be concerned?” asked Clark.

“No one ever has been, before?” said Danny.

And what was up with that? Everything Danny said about his hometown made it sound like something that should have been handled by JLD, or even the whole League, and apparently the EPA, ages ago, but Billy had sure never heard anything about it. 

Billy wasn’t even sure if Danny had been joking about the health and safety of the burger sauce, or not. He’d think Danny just had a weird sense of humor, but…

He was here for a reason, right? It probably wasn’t just because he was mildly physically enhanced.

Tim appeared.

“Hey, guys,” he said.

“There you are,” said Clark. “That was fast; how are you feeling?”

“I didn’t have too much to say,” said Tim. “And I’m feeling pretty good, actually? Still tired, but that’s whatever.”

“What was that about your spleen?” asked Billy.

“I said something about my spleen?” asked Tim, actually sounding vaguely concerned.

“You said you thought it grew back,” said Danny.

“Oh, yeah,” said Tim. “It seems to have.”

“You lost your spleen?” asked Clark with the look of a man who was responsible for knowing what was going on with the JL affiliated sidekicks. Though, Red Robin was in a bit of grey zone, when it came to a label like ‘sidekick.’

“It got infected,” said Tim, like Clark had never had a reason to know, before. If Billy hadn’t known that Red Robin was an incredible liar and a vigilante, he’d have fully believed him on the infection part.

“Is that why you almost blew yourself up trying to get an antibiotic paste?” asked Clark.

“I only had a few days worth of antibiotics on me,” said Tim. “I was going to need to be really careful with any injuries.”

“Wait, what?” asked Billy.

“The spleen’s a significant part of your immune system,” said Clark. 

“Oh,” said Billy, lighting up. “So it’s not vestigial?” he asked innocently.

“Not at all,” said Tim. “I was on a year-long regimen of antibiotics while my body adjusted.”

“Good thing you got your homework, Danny,” said Billy. “You need to brush up on your Biology.”

Danny threw a tiny pickle at him.

“How could you tell, anyway?” asked Billy, having successfully batted the pickle away before it could hit him, and Clark had made Danny pick it up.

“That my spleen grew back?” asked Tim, and Billy nodded. “I mean, after it was removed, my guts just felt really weird for a while, as they were adjusting to the whole, being rearranged thing.”

“Insert sex joke here,” said Danny. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tim. “Then, today, it felt like that, but in reverse. So, it’s either that, or they gave me a giant tumor, but the cleric just said that it was my spleen. So…On that, at least, I’ll try to take their word for it.”

Billy wondered what Clark saw. Either it was a perfectly normal spleen, or he was a really good actor.

Tim went and grabbed a bread bowl full of stew, a fruit cup, and a canned coffee.

“Tim,” said Clark. “Now might be a good time to quit the caffeine. You never know when you’ll next have to go without.”

Tim made eye contact with Clark as he popped the top and took a long draft.

Clark sighed.

“So, what were you guys working on, over there?” Tim asked, inclining his head towards the desks.

“Oh, we were making knife sheathes,” said Danny. 

Tim considered them both.

“Please tell me you guys weren’t planning to use the steak knives as weapons,” said Tim.

…

“Okay, we won’t tell you,” said Billy.

“Are either of you trained in knife fighting?” asked Tim.

Billy and Danny traded a glance.

“Been in a knife fight?” asked Tim.

“I’ve been in a sword fight, before,” said Danny.

“A toy sword fight?” asked Clark.

Danny paused for a moment. “Sure,” he said.

“Not the same skillset,” said Tim, tearing off a hunk of bread to dip in his stew. “I learned the basics. Enough to know you should avoid a knife fight at any cost.”

“I think that’s when you both have knives,” said Danny.

“I mean, that is the worst case scenario, yes. But also…” He sighed and pulled out one of the knives. “Anyway, these knives here, you’re liable to slice through your fingers if you try to stab something with them. There’s no guard to keep your hand from sliding down. Probably break the blade, however you try to use it.”

“Better than nothing?” Danny suggested.

Tim sighed. “If nothing else, it could be used as a simple utility knife. Very much a last resort, as a weapon.”

“How about I teach you two about handling knives, while Tim eats his lunch,” said Clark.

“That could be cool,” said Billy.

“And then, afterwards, we can hit the books, a little.”

“This is tyranny,” said Danny.

“Danny, could we talk a little bit?” asked Clark, when the boys were on their way to getting ready for bed after a day of homework, belt-sheaths, and video games.

Danny fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he dithered by the couch.

“Come on,” said Clark, patting the seat by him.

Danny sat down. 

“You’re not in trouble, you know,” said Clark.

“What would I be in trouble for?” asked Danny.

“Danny, I don’t think it’s going to surprise you if I say that I’m worried about you.”

Danny swallowed, and looked away. “I just…had a bad day,” he said. 

Clark considered the boy. Fifteen. Traumatized. Severely wounded in the past. He thought Danny liked his powers, whatever they were exactly. He also thought the boy was afraid of them. Afraid of a lot more than that. There was so much he wanted to talk to the boy about, but…

“I know there’s going to be a lot of things you won’t feel comfortable talking about, with the whole world potentially watching,” said Clark, and Danny seemed to relax a little at that; that Clark wasn’t going to try to force him to bare his soul, or anything. “We still want to support you, however we can, okay?”

Danny nodded his head. 

“I wanna support you guys, too,” he said.

“Well, it’s like I said,” said Clark.

“We’ll rely on each other,” said Danny.

“You got it,” said Clark. “Just…The world’s not over until it’s over. Remember that, okay? Things have, well, really been awful, some of the time here. But not always. And, we’ve met their challenges, one by one. We’ll meet whatever they have for us, tomorrow, together.”

“I didn’t meet all of them,” said Danny.

“There was only ever going to be one winner,” Clark reminded him. “Tim was…very well suited for what he faced in those challenges. And tomorrow, we’ll have him on our side.”

Danny nodded. 

Clark wished he could share Cyborg’s message with the boys. Reassure them that the Justice League was still working on the issue, and Clark’s, Tim’s, and Danny’s families were safe. It may not have been much, but it was something.

“It’s not over until it’s over. And if you find yourself alone again, well, I’m sure we’ll be following after you soon.”

“It really was just a bad day,” said Danny.

How many bad days had the boy had, Clark wondered.

He reached over and squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Today was better, huh?”

Danny nodded. “Even if Billy was being a brat.”

“He wasn’t the only one,” Clark said dryly.

It got a smile out of Danny.

“Alright, time for bed,” said Clark.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Danny. 

“Goodnight, Danny.”

“Night, Clark.”

Chapter Text

“Ah, hello, everyone,” said Hal, calling in advance of when they had expected to be able to hear from him.

Five minutes and fifty-three seconds were left on the countdown in the corner of the screen.

“Green Lantern, it is good to hear from you,” said Wonder Woman.

“I wish I were calling under better circumstances,” said the Green Lantern. “I understand Earth is dealing with the god of judgement and entertainment.”

“Can we take that to mean this is being broadcast on other worlds?” asked Bruce.

“It is,” said Green Lantern, “but only worlds the god already has a foothold on.”

“How many of those are there?” asked Aquaman.

“Seventy-nine, that the Green Lantern Corp is aware of.”

“You may have warned us this centennial was coming,” said Bruce.

“There wasn’t exactly anything you could have done to prepare,” said Green Lantern, “and it wasn’t as though we had any idea they’d pick Earth out of the countless options available to them. Anyway, the more attention you pay to a god…well, you know.”

“What can we do?” asked Wonder Woman.

Green Lantern shook his head. “Damage control,” he said.

“You’re suggesting there’s nothing we can do to combat this deity?” asked Aquaman.

“There are seventeen billion Tantalans who worship them with devotion,” said Green Lantern. “There are seventy-nine worlds where they have substantial followings, that we’re aware of. Probably a lot more, we’re not. You would be hard pressed to find a deity more powerful in the known universe. There have been attempts, in the past, to combat them. Green Lanterns, demigods, powerful alien beings, all together. It wasn’t much of a contest. Their most powerful ability is to know everything happening going on in their sphere of influence, and being able to instantly teleport anyone away that they choose. No one and nothing could even get close.”

“What can we expect, moving forward?” asked Bruce.

“It varies, wildly,” said Green Lantern. “As you might have noticed, the events so far have had a distinctly Earthly flair. As well, the justice they put on display is tailored to each world.”

“What is the justice in putting potentially dangerous individuals, children, through trials?” asked Wonder Woman.

“First of all, it’s a Tantalan idea of justice through an Earthly lens, so you’re going to have to think outside of the box, a little. Second of all, well, Clark already hit the nail on the head, didn’t he?”

“How we treat our children,” said Bruce.

Green Lantern nodded, and pulled up a video from his ring.

“So, I would like to know if Tantalan’s value childhood,” said Clark.

“Oh, childhood is very precious,”

“Is the reason you have brought Billy, Danny, and Tim into this because you do not value human children, the way you do your own?” asked Clark.

“Oh, I would not say we value human children any less than human’s do.” 

“One thing we know about the Tantalans is that they are incredibly protective of their children. They keep them on very short leashes through most of their development.”

“And we let ours be sidekicks,” said Wonder Woman.

Green Lantern inclined his head.

“Do they follow through on their threats?” asked Bruce.

“Oh, they absolutely do,” said Green Lantern. “Those eight thousand assholes were in plenty of danger.”

“Are the contestants in as much danger as they seem to be?” asked Bruce.

Green Lantern frowned. “It’s hard to say,” he said. “Clark, I think they’d let him die, if it came down to it. The children…It’s hard to say. We don’t actually have great insight into them, for all that we’ve documented about a dozen of these broadcasts. They are a very insular culture. The clerics for their god of judgement are the only ones that really leave, and the only people allowed to visit their home world are pilgrims. There’s been one broadcast we’ve documented that involved children, but by ‘documented’ I mean, we wrote down what they could tell us from their oral tradition. Those children survived, but from what we can tell, that broadcast and this one were very different.”

“If we look at this through the lens of Earth,” said Wonder Woman, “then countless children are killed or maimed or die from preventable causes every day on Earth, from issues we have failed to devote suitable attention to. Our media often sensationalizes their suffering for ratings, while not actively accomplishing anything tangible towards helping them. I’m very worried for all of the abductees.”

“Anything else?” asked Bruce. A little over a minute left.

Green Lantern pondered only a moment. “Sometimes it is: here’s eight thousand of the worst human beings we’re going to torment, as a form of justice, and you can make note of them, while we’re at it. Sometimes, it’s letting people think they have impunity, or even just giving them a strong temptation, and giving them enough rope to hang themselves. We’ll see how that all plays out in this broadcast. I, um, hope this Tim kid is doing okay, after yesterday.”

“Hn,” was Bruce’s response.

Even over interstellar comms, they were careful of names.

“I’ll log off,” said Hal. “I’m en route to Earth. I’ll be there, soon.”

For all the good it would do them.

The broadcast started. 

“Thank you, one and all, for tuning in to your nightly broadcast, and welcome, to today’s final episode of Survivor! Tonight, Tim continues to recuperate from his encounter with the venomous stonefish, with Clark’s help.” 

They went ahead and showed the sting, again, before showing Tim in Clark’s arms, in clear agony.

“But Tim has to recover fast, because the final standoff between him and Clark wasn’t going to wait for a clean bill of health. By the end of the day, however, one of our two contestants will become the final Survivor, and win immunity for their home town.”

Bruce growled.

They watched the broadcast without having much to address. Tim had a seizure, and Bruce burned for it. The narration made a lot of Clark helping Tim, in spite of them being competitors against each other. Tim got progressively better, and progressively more exhausted.

“Chess?” asked Flash. “After all that, they give the kid a challenge he can’t win?”

Bruce hated to agree, but few unenhanced individuals would be able to beat someone like Clark or Flash at a game of chess. Tim was brilliant, but he was no grand master.

Except, he had an advantage.

“Oh,” said Flash, when the advantage was revealed, showing rapid eye movement, indicating he was thinking at speed. “So…it’s doable.”

It took Bruce a moment to think of the clear solution. Tim, in the condition he was in, took a while longer, before he removed the optimal piece from the board.

And then it was just twenty edited minutes of Clark trying to make Tim fall asleep, and Tim trying not to fall asleep. Bruce allowed himself a small sigh of relief when it was over. 

“You have persevered through terrible hardship,” the cleric noted. 

Hardship they had forced upon him. 

“…in the name of Antantlous, be healed!”

Bruce took keen notice as something seemed to come over Tim. Scrapes still visible from the tiger attack disappeared. Tim’s hand was healed. And Tim finally passed out.

Danny and Billy rushed down the amphitheater steps and Clark was casting a keen eye over Tim as Tim lay folded over the table, insensate to the world. There was no longer audio from the contestants; just the narrator’s voice.

“And there you have it, everyone, Tim has won the Survivor game, and will be going into the upcoming event fully healed, with one less thing to worry about. Tune in tomorrow for a nail-biting suspense-filled event that is sure to entertain. But first, how about we catch up with how everyone has been doing in the dormitory!”

There was not much to note, at first. Danny showed decreased symptoms of depression and anxiety, and Billy was still looking after him in his own inelegant way. They tried their hands at making belt sheathes, which was ill-advised, but Tim would likely counsel them when available. Tim had been missing his spleen-

Since when had Tim been missing his spleen?! It very much was not in his medical record.

“Tim didn’t have a spleen?” asked Green Arrow.

“Hn.”

“Apparently he does now,” said Flash. “Yay?”

“We’ll take what silver linings we can,” said Wonder Woman.

Well, Bruce would need to have a conversation with Tim, upon his return, about the importance of updating his medical file. Of course, Bruce had to consider when Tim must have lost his spleen. There had only been one time Tim had been unaccounted for long enough to have lost his spleen and recovered before returning: His journey to find Bruce in the time stream. Tim always had been tight lipped about that mission, so Bruce was not exactly surprised to learn that something so major had slipped through the cracks.

Tim had been in a terrible head space even before Bruce’s presumed death, after a series of successive violent losses. Bruce understood that headspace. Knew what lay down it. He considered, not for the first time, Tim had likely experienced and done things on his global quest he would not feel comfortable sharing with anyone.

There was a lot he should speak to Tim about, when Tim got back.

(Youtube Short)

“Hey guys, Mark, here. A lot of you will remember that I did once have my own, in this case, of course, intentional encounter with a stonefish. And, I just want to say, do not compare my experience with what Tim is going through, right now. You may recall, that when I took that sting, I had hot water ready at my side. I had an epi pen, ready at my side. I had the antidote there, ready at my side. And the hospital was a three minute drive away. And, most importantly, I took a micro dose of that toxin. We had already caused that fish to express the toxin in that spine, before I jabbed my hand with it. It was still one of the most intense and painful stings I’ve taken in my entire career, and I was feeling after effects of it for months afterwards. I lasted two minutes, before I started first aid. Tim took four of those spines, at full strength, and he had to wait a lot longer than that for any kind of first aid, last night. I’m not saying any of this to frighten our viewers; I think we’re all freaked out enough already. But, please do keep Tim in your thoughts and prayers…”

“So, um, uh, do we really have to do this?” Tucker asked.

“Seeing as we don’t even know what sorts of questions we should be asking about…about all this, yes. I would like to see the experts weigh in,” said his mom.

“Seeing as how we’ve been incredibly worried,” said his dad, “we’d like to know exactly how worried we should be.”

Tucker was very very grounded.

Something about disappearing into the ghost zone without telling anyone, and his parents being worried sick. If Frostbite hadn’t taken them so far off course… Well, he might be in less trouble.

“I told you,” said Tucker, “we visited a couple of ghosts we thought could help.”

“And how do you know these oh so helpful ghosts?” asked his mom.

“Well, because, you know, we live in Amity, so…”

“Hm,” said his mom.

“Hm,” said his dad.

This was bad.

School was canceled that day, seeing as Amity Park wasn’t immune from whatever was supposed to happen during this new event. The A-listers had been insufferable about it when Tucker had gone back to school, yesterday, blaming Danny for being weak. Some of them hadn’t shied away from being dicks about Danny’s breakdown from the night before, either. If he’d had access to anything electronic, he’d already have gotten some digital justice, but literally everything was gone.

There was a knock on the door, and his dad went to get it..

…

“Oh, this is a non-smoking household.”

“Ah, suppose most of them are, these days.”

Tucker’s face fell. It was the jerk trench coat guy.

“Be nice,” his mom admonished. “He brought you home.”

“Only technically?” said Tucker. 

She gave him a warning look.

“I thought there were going to be two of you?” his dad was saying as he walked jerk trench coat guy in. 

The man, Constantine, pulled a tablet from out of his trench coat. “One of us is remote,” he said, waving it in the air. 

He set the tablet up on the coffee table, facing Tucker and his mom, and an image overtook it. Tucker’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when he saw the green stylized image, like if a circuit board looked like a woman’s face.

“We meet at last,” said the technologically modified voice from the tablet, “modern-day_pharaoh.”

Tucker’s stomach dropped.

“Oracle,” he said, kind of dumbly.

“Figured you out during that video call, last week.”

Dammit Sam!

“I’ve never heard of an Oracle before,” his mom said.

“Most people haven’t,” said Oracle.

“Modern Day Pharaoh,” his dad repeated, making Tucker cringe. “Is that some sort of online handle? We’re supposed to know about all of those. Which website is it?”

If things could just stop happening for a moment, Tucker would really appreciate it.

“Oh, it’s your son’s hacker name,” said Oracle.

“Uhhhh, that is so very not cool of you,” said Tucker. 

“Tucker James Foley!” said his mom. “First your teacher’s phone, now this?”

“Sorry, mate,” said Constantine. “Appearances to the contrary, the League actually does try to tamp down on teenaged vigilantism.”

“Vigilantism?!” said Dad.

“Uhhhhh, that’s a really strong word,” said Tucker.

“Not sure what else you would call stopping ghost attacks with the local superhero and hacking government and private databases to keep said hero from being dissected,” said Oracle.

“Well, at least you’re making me sound cool,” Tucker mumbled.

“That is not ‘cool,’” said his dad, doing the air quotes.

“This is all the Fenton parents’ fault, I know it,” said Mom.

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Constantine. “I’m sure you all have lot’s to talk about. Grounding forever, and all that. I’m here to talk about your little jaunt into the Infinite Realms.”

“Little jaunt,” Mom said, disapprovingly.

“Dangerous multi-day excursion,” Constantine said, which was very not helpful.

“Uhhh, you actually know what it’s called?” said Tucker.

“Not the point, kid. But, yeah, I know what it’s called. I know plenty about it. Like why you’d have to be off your bloody rocker to build a portal there.”

“Exactly!” said Mom. “Which is why we told Tucker, he is absolutely never allowed in their basement! Lord knows, Danny and Jazz are lovely children, but their parents. Hm-mm.”

“Off their bloody rockers,” said Constantine, seemingly just for emphasis.

“Language,” said Dad.

Constantine huffed.

“Kid, I’m not here to bust your…back. I’m sure your parents have that covered. I just want to know what you and your friends wound up doing in the Infinite Realms, so I can know if I need to get prepared for any sort of inter-dimensional incident.”

“We didn’t cause an incident!”

“Good. Tell me what you did.”

Tucker huffed, and Mom nudged him in the ribs.

“Fine, okay, we went to the Far Frozen to talk to Frostbite, and ask him if we could borrow the Infini-Map, so that we could use it to take Danny back.”

Well, that seemed to catch the man by surprise.

“You know where the Infini-Map is?” 

“Uh, yeah?”

“Have you had prior interactions with the Infini-Map?”

“Uhhh,” Tucker looked between his parents. “I plead the fifth.”

“Oh, there is no fifth in this household, young man,” said Dad.

“So, okay, so, that wasn’t like, the first time I was in the Infinite Realms,” said Tucker. “But we know what we’re doing, so it’s fine?”

“It is so not fine,” said Mom.

“What happened with this Frostbite fellow?” asked Constantine.

“Uh, he said this god fellow’s too powerful, and he didn’t want to send Danny’s friends and sister into danger.” He’d actually used the word ‘doom,’ but Mom and Dad didn’t need to know about that.

“Oh. This Frostbite fellow’s a good friend of Danny’s, then,” said Constantine.

“I, uh, guess so,” said Tucker, trying to read the room. “Danny, uh, did him a solid.”

“A solid?” asked Oracle.

“Uh, pulled a thorn out of his paw?” said Tucker.

Literally, even the static Oracle image looked like it was doubting him.

“How about you tell me why you came back smelling like time travel,” said Constantine.

“You can smell that?” asked Tucker. And he thought he had a sensitive nose.

“Metaphorically speaking,” said Constantine, waving his hand. “You smelled. Why?”

“Uh,” said Tucker. “Well, I mean, we didn’t travel through time. But after Frostbite wouldn’t let us have the Infini-Map, we went to see Clockwork.”

Constantine sat down for the first time.

“Oh,” he said. “You just…casually dropped in on the Ancient Master of Time.”

“Hey, you really know your stuff,” said Tucker.

Mom cleared her throat.

“Yup,” said Tucker, “we just dropped in on him.”

“Another ghost Danny did a favor for?” asked Oracle.

“Um, more like he saved Danny’s whole family,” said Tucker. “But like, in the most traumatizing way possible, so…Anyway, he and Danny are cool.”

“And, what happened when you dropped in on the Ancient Master of Time?”

“Uh, he said a bunch of stuff about how the timeline was moving on just fine, so he wasn’t going to do anything to mess it up.”

“Why are the ghosts the only reasonable people in this story?” asked Dad.

“At least we were trying to do something!”

“And who said it’s your responsibility to do something?” asked Mom.

“I did,” said Tucker, “because Danny’s my friend!”

“You go anywhere else?” asked Constantine. 

“What? No,” said Tucker.

“Talk to anyone else,” asked Constantine.

“I guess we said ‘hi’ to some of the other yetis,” said Tucker.

“Yetis?” asked Mom. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s all yetis in the Far Frozen,” said Tucker. 

“I can’t even say this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had in this town,” said Dad.

“You get into any fights while you were there?” asked Oracle.

“No,” said Tucker. “Why would we?”

“You want to try again?” asked Oracle.

“Uhhh.”

“The logs on the Specter Speeder show weapons discharge a few hours into your journey.”

“Tucker, you tell them what happened, or so help me,” said Mom.

“Oh my god, it was just the Box Ghost. We fired a few warning shots, had a bit of a stand-off, and handed him a box of rations that had been in the speeder. It was practically a non-issue.”

“Tucker, the Box Ghost might be something of a ‘chump,' compared to Phantom, but you are not Phantom! You can’t be going around getting into fights with random ghosts!” 

“You know, actually, I’ve been getting into fights with random ghosts for the last year, now, and I’ve been fine. I might not be as strong as Phantom, but I’m actually pretty good at this whole thing!”

“Is that the tone you want to be taking with us right now?” asked Dad.

Tucker shut his mouth, stewing a little, but not willing to dig himself deeper.

“Is there anyone in the Infinite Realms that might be holding a grudge against you or your friends?” asked Oracle.

“Uhhhh,” said Tucker.

“Tucker!” said Mom.

“Skulker and Technus, definitely,” said Tucker. “I don’t know, though; a lot of ghosts have chilled out since Pariah Dark got defeated. I mean, they’ll still stir the pot, but in a more reasonable way, you know?”

“And Vortex and Undergrowth were reasonable?” asked Mom.

“Yeah, there’s still outliers,” said Tucker.

Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How many ancient masters have visited Amity?” he asked.

“Uhhh,” said Tucker.

He started counting on his fingers. “Clockwork, Undergrowth, Vortex, Nocturn, Fright Knight. Does Pariah Dark count?”

“No,” said Constantine.

“Then, five.”

“Fantastic,” said Constantine. “You know of any others?”

“Uh, I mean, we’ve heard of Sojourner, and Nephthys.”

“Those the seven that took on Pariah, the first time around?”

“Uhh, the only one I know for sure that did was Clockwork,” said Tucker. “And Fright Knight definitely didn’t.”

“Anything you can tell us about how Pariah Dark was defeated this go around?”

“It’s like we said, last week,” said Tucker. “Phantom did it.” 

“It’s not like you were there,” said Dad, a hint of warning in his voice. 

“No, I was not there,” said Tucker. “We got the story later.”

“And?” asked Constantine.

“Phantom took this mech-suit the Fentons had built, and used it to fight Pariah Dark in his castle, and lock him back up in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“There’s a mech-suit, now?” asked Oracle.

“Yeah, it was pretty sick. Though, it would have probably killed any human that tried to use it.”

Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Was anyone else involved?” he asked.

“Uh, I guess Plasmius came in at the last second and locked the sarcophagus.”

“That’s the guy you said who opened it in the first place?” asked Oracle.

“Yeah,” said Tucker. “He’s bad news, but he didn’t actually want Pariah Dark free. He’d just been trying to steal.”

“Sounds like an idiot,” said Constantine.

“A surprisingly tech savvy and powerful idiot,” said Tucker.

“Any reason why those two specific ghosts you mentioned would want revenge on you?”

“I mean, I’ve hacked their stuff.”

“Now you’re hacking ghosts!” his dad despaired. 

“I mean, you’re welcome for not letting a ghost take over the entire world,” said Tucker. 

“We are not thanking you for risking your life,” said Mom. 

Tucker grumbled. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Which ghost-” Oracle started.

“Technus wants to take over the world. Not that he’d know what to do with it, if he did. Skulker just wants to skin Phantom and ‘hang his pelt on the wall.’”

“Is that what that ridiculous Mohawk man wants?” asked Mom. 

“You should see how ridiculous he looks outside of his suit.”

“Can ghosts even be skinned?” asked Dad. 

They could be vivisected. 

“I don’t think Phantom wants to find out,” said Tucker, feeling ill. 

“You keep any notes on these ghosts, kid?” asked Constantine.

“No,” said Tucker.

“Actually, I already got them,” said Oracle.

“What?!”

No, no, no, no, no.

All of their most sensitive stuff was kept on Tucker’s computer, because he had the best security.

“Aw, don’t worry, mite, we already know the big secret, anyway,” said Constantine.

Tucker felt the blood leave his face.

“W-what are you going to do?” 

“Hm? Well, erase this ‘Ghost Investigation Ward’ from existence, for a start,” said Constantine.

“So…”

“You can unclench, kid.”

“See, Tucker,” said Mom, “it doesn’t feel very good when someone hacks into your computer.”

“Really mom?”

“What ‘secret’ is this?” asked Dad.

“Ah, well, that’s none of our places to tell,” said Constantine. “I think we’re done here.”

“It was nice meeting you,” said Oracle. “Mr. and Mrs. Foley, if, once your son is not grounded, you’d like him to have someone who can help nudge his talents in the right direction, I can make sure you have a way to reach me.”

“Hm, well,” said Mom. “I’m not sure if this boy will be touching anything with a circuit board again before college.”

“Woah, hey now,” said Tucker.

“Aw, that would be a shame,” said Oracle. “Talent like that should be nurtured.”

“Mm, talent for trouble. And he’s stylizing himself as a pharaoh now!”

Tucker cringed.

“Aw, well, he seems to come by it honestly,” said Constantine.

Tucker's eyes widened again. “Just a random resemblance to a guy who died a long time ago,” he said. 

“Just a resemblance, eh? Probably a door best not knocked on.”

A little late for that.

His parents saw Constantine out. Tucker was expecting them to immediately come back to the living room and ream him out all over again, after, but they lingered by the closed door. They were talking. Probably about him.

Why did Oracle have to be such a narc?!

Finally, his parents walked back into the room, but instead of taking positions opposite him, the better to lecture from, they sat down on either side of him on the couch.

“Tucker, you know the thing we care most about is your safety,” said Mom.

“Mm, well, yeah,” Tucker mumbled.

“And we do care about your friends,” said Mom.

Tucker nodded his head.

“Son, I want you to tell us the truth,” said Dad, his voice measured, like he was trying not to be emotional. “Is Danny dead?”

“What?! No!”

“Tell us the truth,” said Mom.

“I mean, he’s not all the way dead,” said Tucker. “He’s alive! He’s just, also… You can’t tell anyone!”

The Justice League already knew, apparently.

“What does that even mean?” asked Mom.

“It’s weird and confusing. Death isn’t a binary.”

“So, Danny is Phantom.”

“You can’t tell anyone!”

“Danny died,” his Mom said, sounding heartbroken, and all of a sudden, that flipped a switch in Tucker, and he found his lip trembling.

“Yeah,” he said.

“In that damned basement, wasn’t it?” asked Dad.

Tucker nodded. “It was an accident,” he said, Danny’s screams echoing in his head. “We shouldn’t have been down there.”

His mom squeezed him tight, and Tucker couldn’t help but sob. For so long it had been mostly an adventure. Now…

“And you really can’t tell anyone,” he said again, “his parents already cut him open, we can’t let anyone else know.”

“What do you mean, his parents cut him open?!” asked Dad.

“I- I mean, they caught him. When he was Phantom, and…They did what they always said they would. He got away. They still don’t know.”

“I- I don’t even know what to say to that,” said Mom.

Tucker was pretty sure the only appropriate response was to scream and throw hands with the Doctors Fenton on sight.

“So, am I still grounded?” 

“What do you mean, ‘am I still grounded?’”

“Of course you’re still grounded!”

(Twitter Post)

@DarkBlight

All us Gothamites watching what’s happening over in Metropolis tonight after TDW saved our city yesterday: ( ≖‿  ≖ )

#AtlasBroadcast #DayEightBroadcast #GothamOnTop #TimDrakeWayne

@TriGunYiffer

Miss me with this toxicity. As a local volunteer who has been moving supplies all night, our neighbors to the north should know that FEMA, the Red Cross, and the Wayne Foundation are setting up evacuation sites in Gotham right now. You can go to the Gotham city hall website for more information. Prayers for TDW and the rest in tonight’s broadcast.

#Gotham #Metropolis #AtlasBroadcast #EmergencyServices #RedCross #FEMA

---

Billy woke up the next day, relieved to find himself in the dormitory bed, and not in a freaking helicopter. Still not where he’d rather be waking up, but Fawcett probably wouldn’t be in the cards for a while. 

It felt like it was too early, but better safe than sorry. Billy picked himself up out of bed, and went over to Danny’s.

“Hey, wake up,” he said.

Danny snorted. Billy poked him in the shoulder.

“Wha?!”

“Should get ready, before they teleport us somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Danny. 

Billy went over to Tim’s bed.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs, and bakey,” Billy sing-songed.

“Go away,” said Tim.

“Gotta get ready before they teleport us,” said Billy.

“Uugh. Broadcasts are in the evening. The events are live. Go away.”

“Uh,” said Billy. He looked over at Danny, who was already going back to bed.

“Yeah, that tracks,” said Danny.

Well, Billy was already awake. He considered the other room. Clark was in there…

He’d just been camping with Clark, and let the man take care of him. 

Billy could be alone in a room with him.

He poked his head out. Clark was sitting on the couch with an iced coffee.

“Hup, look at us two early birds,” Clark said quietly with a smile.

“Do you think we have until the evening?” asked Billy, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

“I think it’s likely,” said Clark.

“Hm,” said Billy.

He realized suddenly he was still wearing Tim’s pajamas, and found himself blushing. Danny and Tim would probably resent it, though, if Billy went back to change when they were trying to go back to sleep. He felt silly in the too big garments. 

“Let’s get something to eat,” said Clark. “Hot chocolate?”

“Uhhh, okay,” said Billy.

Clark busied himself. There was a tin of hot chocolate powder, and a hot water dispenser. Billy could have made it for himself.

He found himself a breakfast plate that looked interesting. There were country potatoes, and then poached eggs on top of ham and english muffins, with some sort of sauce. Billy took it back to the table, and Clark brought his hot chocolate before going to get something for himself. He came back with his own breakfast plate with sunny-side-up eggs, hash browns, sausage, and toast, as Billy was putting the two sandwich halves together.

“Oh, Billy, that’s really more of a fork and knife-”

Billy was quick to pick it up and take a bite.

A very, very, messy bite. 

He was quick to chew a few times and force it down.

“Mm-kay, maybe a fork and knife sort of breakfast,” he said.

Clark handed him several napkins.

“It’s real good, though,” said Billy.

“Mmm,” said Clark. “Eggs Benedict. The sauce is mostly butter and egg yolks.”

“Really?”

He dipped his finger in some of the sauce that wasn’t already mixed in with the yolk that had exploded out of his sandwich, and gave it a try on its own.

Yeah, egg yolks and butter. That tracked. 

“Kind of fancy, huh,” said Billy.

“A little fancy,” said Clark. “Before you turned it into a sandwich.”

Billy grinned.

The he considered. “By the way, you know I can use a hot water dispenser, right?”

“Well, I mean, you did just get out of bed,” said Clark. 

Queue the rolling of Billy’s eyes.

“Oh, go on and eat your fancy sandwich,” said Clark.

Billy kept eating with his fingers, just because.

“Think we’ll be able to bring food with us for the next event?” asked Billy, later during the meal.

“I don’t know,” said Clark. “We got to bring snacks to the last one.”

“With some temporary exceptions,” Billy groused.

“I think it’s just going to depend on whether or not snacks would break the rules of whatever ‘game’ they have us play.”

“Hm,” said Billy. “Oh! I meant to tell you. We should be careful if we meet any hostages.”

“Oh?” asked Clark.

“Yeah, I was seeing on the socials feed. Those eight thousand hostages before, they were all bad news.”

“Is that so?” asked Clark.

“Uh huh. Like, really bad dudes.”

“Well, we’ll be careful, then,” said Clark.

“I’m pretty sure you’re always careful.”

“I wouldn’t say always.”

“You probably always follow the speed limit,” said Billy.

“Yes?”

Billy snorted a laugh. Yeah right, Clark broke the sound barrier on the regular.

“So you ready for some school work, today?”

“Wha- Clark, it’s like, a Friday, and Friday’s are practically the weekend, so…”

“I think Friday’s are pretty solidly school days,” said Clark. “Also, it’s Thursday.”

“You know, I could be dead by the end of the day. Shouldn’t I-"

“That is not going to happen,” Clark said sharply. 

Billy pursed his lips as he looked back down at his breakfast.

“I was just joking,” he said.

“You dying isn’t funny,” said Clark.

“You’re not even my dad, so I don’t know why you care so much,” said Billy.

“Has there really been no one other than your parents who’s cared for you?” asked Clark.

Billy poked at his potatoes.

‘Yes’ wasn’t really a truthful answer.

There had been people who’d cared for him.

People who would have adopted him.

“They weren’t…they weren’t who I’m looking for.”

Clark swallowed, across from him. 

“Well. I’m going to care, anyway.”

Billy kept staring at his plate, until he got up, shoving most of what was left of the eggs Benedict into his mouth as he did. He tossed the rest in the trash. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said.

Clark said nothing, behind him.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Billy mused out loud.

Danny looked up from the novel he’d been trying out. Billy was on the socials feed.

“Oh, what was that?” asked Clark.

“Hm?” said Billy. “Oh, here.”

Billy went back in the feed. 

Just like the day before, when Clark had paused the feed, it was just some random message.

…

By the same account.

…

It was just an analysis on Tim’s chess moves.

Danny didn’t really know much about chess besides the basic rules, but Clark had been pretty clear in his confessional that he thought the game they’d played should have been easy to understand. Was he really interested in what someone was saying about it now?

“Oh, that’s a good summation,” said Tim, his eyes scanning around the message.

Okay, what?!

Were Billy, Tim, and Clark all in on some secret messages being sent through the feed? Tim and Clark, Danny could understand, if they were both Justice League members like Danny suspected, but Billy? 

Unless it was just a coincidence the post had caught Billy’s attention.

If there was a message in the post, then Tim definitely didn’t like what he’d read, if the way he pressed his lips together was any indication. Clark, though, had his gaze on Billy. 

Because he wouldn’t have expected Billy to catch onto the secret message?

Ugh! 

He wished they could just talk to each other!

Well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t protecting his own secrets.

He wondered what the message said. 

Judging by the look on Tim’s face, probably something like, ‘lol, you’re on your own.’

Their day in the dorm had gone reasonably uneventfully. Tim got around to doing a stretching routine in the morning. There was homework to be done, television to be watched, and games to be played. 

Secret messages to be received from Cyborg.

GLC in contact. Can’t be fought. Only known way out is through.

So, the Green Lantern Corp was well aware of Antantlous, and didn’t think they could fight back. This far into things, with no indication of the Justice League or the Green Lantern Corp intervening, it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it was disheartening.

It was intensely interesting that Billy had caught the message. Tim didn’t believe it was a coincidence. But, how exactly, unless he hadn’t been joking when he called himself Captain Marvel.

As the afternoon turned to evening, they packed Danny’s backpack with some food and spare clothes, and wore steak knives on their belts. Danny also had to fashion himself a belt from a torn up shirt.

Clark and Billy were being awkward around each other. If Tim had to guess, he’d say it was something about Billy’s obvious fear of being cared for by a responsible adult. Tim was assuming a prior traumatic betrayal by an adult Billy had trusted. It was easy to imagine different things that could have happened to the kid, but imagining awful things happening to a younger Billy wasn’t exactly helpful towards anything.

Tim hoped that Billy didn’t have any traumas about big brother figures, and helped the kid with his math and science. He bullied Danny into letting him do the same with him.

They ate dinner a good hour before the broadcast was due to begin; tense, because they knew what was coming was probably going to be awful in some sort of way. Last time there had been pits of fire, massive stone blocks trying to crush them, and a murderous sphinx, before eight thousand terrified people had been dangled over a death machine. What they would be faced with, today…

Well, they didn’t know, but the precedent had been set. Danny and Billy, especially, liked to speculate on what they might be facing, from gladiatorial blood sport, to being chased by monsters, to just solving puzzles while some Sword-of-Damocles-esque threat loomed over them.

Tim tried not to get too bogged down in trying to expect what was coming, choosing instead to just try and be broadly ready for anything. He tried dressing Billy and Danny in spare suits (after painstakingly cutting the sleeves and legs short for Billy), considering the possibility they may be able to keep them, this time.

“Alright, boys,” said Clark as they had less than a minute left in the countdown. He was wearing the backpack. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

“I hope we can,” said Danny.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m about ready for some solitude,” said Billy.

“If nothing else,” said Clark, “we’ll support each other afterwards.”

Together, they watched the last few seconds count down, but when the day’s recap started, none of them had any interest in paying attention to it.

“Love having a heart to heart with the world,” Danny said, when the conversation he’d had with Clark the night before aired, the blush on his face belying his calm sardonics. The clerics certainly loved it when Clark was paternal and made a big deal out of it.

When they got to Clark’s mini pep talk from some minutes prior, they all looked at each other again, knowing that- 

The world was replaced with white.

They were in…what looked like an open air trauma center, empty of people, except for each other and the Cleric Game Master that had sent them through the maze. There were four hospital beds. The stands, packed full of Tantalans and a few other species, were in the distance. Antantlous above them all, on his throne. Beside him, Danny and Billy were back in their original clothes. Clark did have the backpack, though, and he could see the knife on Danny’s hip.

“Just rude,” Billy said, as he considered his red sweater.

“Welcome, welcome!” the Cleric Host began to crow to the crowd.

Tim checked on his rebreather and taser as the cleric talked. As he had suspected, both were fully charged again. Whether they’d be useful, tonight, remained to be seen.

“Alright, contestants,” said the Cleric Game Master, once the host was done grandstanding, “today you will be putting your medicine skills to the test. First in this preliminary trial, you will be helping actual people in medical distress! The more that you save, the more time you’ll have to solve the calamity presented to you in the big event for the night.”

“Hold up,” said Clark, “we are not doctors, and the children should absolutely not be put in a position to treat life threatening injuries. That is far too much to put on a child.”

“Well, now, they can certainly sit by the sidelines, while you struggle to keep up,” said the Cleric. “I’d just hope that you have enough time to save everyone in the trial that follows.”

“Excuse me, but are you taking actually dying people from out of the hospital, and subjecting them to our incompetence?” asked Tim.

“An excellent question! All of your upcoming patients will be individuals too far away from help to survive. People in the middle of nowhere. People in disaster zones. War zones. Injuries that are just too acute to last until an ambulance arrives. Do nothing, and I suppose you can rest easy knowing they would have died anyway.”

“Perhaps you could just send them to the hospital, and we could practice on dummies,” Clark said evenly. 

“Oh, Clark, search and rescue is hardly in the domain of Antantlous, all glory be.”

So they could only help people when it was entertaining.

“I’ll leave you to get familiar with your trauma center. Good luck!”

Clark put his face in his hands for a moment. 

“I guess the knives are kind of pointless,” said Billy.

Clark sighed. “I have pretty comprehensive first aid and CPR training.”

“Same,” said Tim. “I actually spent some time studying how EMTs do their practice, back during my year abroad.”

“Repeat that sentence, please?” said Danny.

“I’ve dealt with some serious injuries, before,” said Billy.

Danny sighed. “Same. And, basic first aid, I guess.”

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” said Clark, already sounding defeated. And, yeah. Tim was not looking forward to Danny and Billy being responsible for providing acute trauma care.

He was not looking forward to displaying just how proficient he was in medicine.

“First thing is to control excessive bleeding,” said Clark. He found the compression bandages and tourniquets. “Then, hook them up to the heart rate monitor and blood pressure monitor.”

They explored those things. Tim gave a crash course on tourniquets. 

“Gloves and masks,” said Danny, pointing them out.

“Epinephrin, insulin, glucose,” Tim identified. “Antivenins. This is rather crossing from administering first aid to practicing medicine without a license.”

“And if we ignore the medications, and people die while we keep our hands clean?” asked Billy.

“Yeah, I’m not doing going to sit on my hands and do nothing. Also, don’t forget the calamity,” said Danny.

If they failed however many people in this preliminary event, they may fail countless more in the next.

“Let’s check in with each other before we give anyone any kind of medication,” said Clark. “Actually, maybe…maybe I could be the only one to administer medications or blood, or anything like that,” said Clark.

“I don’t think we'll have the luxury of always waiting for you,” said Tim. “I think we can definitely expect things to get chaotic, here.”

“Any pain killers?” asked Danny.

“We’re not qualified to administer pain killers that would be effective in this setting,” said Tim. “We got aspirin for heart attacks.”

“What’s tenecteplase?” asked Billy, sounding out the word on a preloaded syringe.

“Uhhh,” said Clark.

“It’s for strokes,” said Tim.

“Am I the only one thinking this is insane?” asked Danny.

“It’s entirely insane,” said Clark. “No one…no one can expect you boys to be perfect at this. Or…honestly, even good at this. People might…probably will, die here, and if you don’t think you can handle that, then it’s okay to step back, and say no.”

“Kids administer first aid all the time,” said Billy. “We’ll uh, do our best.”

Clark wasn’t the only one feeling kind of sick about Billy being a part of this. The thought of the kid being responsible for making life or death decisions…

With sudden inspiration, Tim pulled his phone from his pocket, and found that the social media feed was indeed active. 

“Billy, I have a very important job for you,” he said. “We’re going to rely on doctors watching this to weigh in on Twitter. I need you to handle the social media feed. We’ll be calling out what we’re dealing with, and you can tell us what the doctors of the world are telling us to do.”

“I can do more than hold a phone, Tim,” said Billy.

“You don’t quite have the size or muscle mass to be doing chest compressions, or rolling patients over,” said Tim. “I’m not saying you can’t help out directly, but if we have input from actual doctors, we can stabilize more patients faster, without making mistakes. Obviously, it’s going to be a dynamic situation, you might have to jump in somewhere, but we’ll rely on your managing the social media feed, and do a better job for it.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Clark, wisely, kept his mouth shut. Billy snatched the phone from Tim’s hand.

“Alright, wash up. PPE, everyone,” said Clark. “Sanitize the phone if you’re going to be handling it all night.”

“Alright, it looks like our contestants are about ready!” said the Cleric Host, as they were finishing at the sink and rushing into gowns, masks, and gloves. “Patients will appear one at a time, two minutes apart, until all beds are filled. Once a patient is stabilized, or dead, they will disappear and be returned to where they came from. GPS coordinates will show emergency personnel where to find them. After a patient disappears, the bed will remain empty for two additional minutes until it is filled again. Contestants, are you ready?”

“No!” said Danny, expressing probably as much contempt as they were all feeling for that question.

“And, begin!”

The first patient was a teenaged boy, naked and wet, with a slash across his wrist.

“Holy crap!” said Billy.

Clark reached them first, grabbing their arm and raising it into the air.

“Tim, treat for shock. Billy, grab me a compression bandage and hook him up. Danny, grab a blood pack.”

Everyone moved.

Tim grabbed a mylar blanket and unfolded it over the kid, before finding some pillows to put under their legs.

“Boy, I sure hope this actual child’s being censored,” he said scathingly as Danny hung the blood pack. Tim took the needle and elastic band from him and tied the band around the boy’s upper arm. Billy came in with a disinfectant swab and shoved it into Danny’s hand, who started rubbing it on the crook of the elbow. It gave the arm time to build up enough blood pressure to show a vein.

“You ever done that before?” asked Danny.

“I know the theory,” said Tim, which was not a lie, but also not an answer to Danny’s question.

Tim voided some of the blood into a bucket under the bed, to ensure there were no air bubbles. Pulling the skin taught with his thumb, Tim lined up the needle and pressed it in. 

“I think that’s it,” he said.

“You think?” asked Danny. 

Tim picked up the valve and opened it.

Billy read out the kid’s blood pressure. It was really low. A moment later, he said, “They’re saying to give him epinephrine.”

“I thought that was for anaphylactic shock?” said Danny.

“It’s for hypovolemic shock as well,” said Tim.

There was probably an ideal dose, but they just had the auto-injectors. Tim grabbed one and went to the kid, moved the blanket to the side, and jabbed him in the leg.

“I think we had time to clean that,” Clark said calmly. 

He’d wrapped the compression bandage around the kid’s arm.

“Oh,” said Tim.

“No worries,” said Clark.

Yeah, the kid would probably be getting a tetanus shot anyway.

“I think we’ve done what we-”

Clark was cut off by the kid disappearing, along with the blood pack.

“We did it!” said Billy.

“I think so,” said Clark.

It was only a few seconds later another white flash appeared. 

Had that really not even been two minutes?

It looked to be a hiker. Male. Sunburnt, dehydrated, heat stroked. Barely conscious.

“Billy, hook him up,” said Clark. “Tim, IV fluids. Danny, ice packs on his forehead, neck, and groin.”

Tim got a saline pack.

“Sir, can you tell me what you’re feeling?” asked Clark.

“Leg,” said the man. “Can’t feel…”

“Okay,” said Clark. “I see something’s going on with your hip?”

He said, to a now unconscious man.

Tim noted a deformity at the hip, and the man’s left leg was twisted inwards. A dislocation, Tim thought. Not life threatening, but should be handled sooner rather than later. Ideally in an ER, but who knew how soon this guy would get to an ER. Apparently, though he had still been conscious, the man was far enough from help that he’d die without coming here. Maybe a super or speedster could evacuate him, but they could also already be dealing with whatever else was supposed to be happening tonight.

Tim started sterilizing the man’s elbow for the saline drip.

“Danny, take the man’s shoe and sock off,” he said.

“Oookay,” said Danny, doing so.

…

“Oh, Ancients!”

“The man’s foot has turned blue,” said Tim. “Should we reset the hip now, or have him wait for emergency services?”

“Uhhhh,” said Billy. “I’m seeing…mixed…I’m seeing more people saying reset now.”

Tim put the needle in, and started the drip.

“Clark, let’s do this before the next person-“

There was a flash of light.

“Danny, help Tim,” said Clark.

Tim did his best to tune everything out, other than the man in front of him. He’d just listen for his name. The screaming didn’t help.

“Really hate doing this without anesthesia,” said Tim, stepping out of his left shoe.

“Need me to hold him down?” asked Danny.

“Yeah,” said Tim, hopping up on the foot of the table.

“You, uh,” said Danny.

“I sort of know what I’m doing.”

“That’s sort of cool,” said Danny, pressing his hands down on the man’s shoulders. 

Tim settled himself with the man’s bad leg between his own. Gingerly, he settled his foot into the man’s groin. Danny winced.

“I’m being gentle,” said Tim. “For the moment.”

Resetting a limb was never quite gentle, though it also wasn’t supposed to be the quick jerk that you might see in the movies.

Tim considered his grip, settling on setting one hand above the knee, the other behind the calf. Then, he held on tight and leaned back, pressing with his foot to keep the pelvis from moving back with him.

There was a sickening wet thunk, and the man came to with a scream. 

Danny did a good job, holding the guy down, until he passed out again.

“Ice packs for his hip?” he asked Danny as he started to maneuver off the table. 

“On it,” said Danny.

“Need anything, Clark?” asked Tim.

“Rest a minute,” said Clark.

Tim nodded and leaned against the table. He read out the man’s stats, in case anyone wanted to add anything to social media. He’d have hoped the man would just disappear, like the first boy had, but they probably needed to bring his temperature down more.

There was another flash.

The feeling in the car was definitely tense as they watched the abductees try to save the life of a boy who seemed to have attempted suicide. Bruce was sure the broadcast would be anxiety inducing for most people watching it, but there was the added anxiety of knowing that Clark and Tim were displaying much more competence than could be expected of their civilian identities. 

“What is this, George of the Jungle?” asked Nightwing over the comm, judgement in his voice. “The camera’s practically coy with this kid.”

The child was not being censored, his face was in full view. A small consolation, the ‘camera’ was, as Dick had said, being coy in how it displayed the boy, never quite showing his groin, but otherwise displaying much more than would be considered appropriate.

“A commentary from the Tantalans on our sub-standard mental health care?” Robin wondered from the passenger seat.

“Perhaps,” Bruce mused. “Potentially a neutral action, with no consideration of optics.”

“Judgement for suicide?” asked Black Bat from the back seat.

“Batman, all quiet in Metropolis,” said Oracle. “Nightwing, all quiet in Jersey.”

“Copy,” said Bruce. 

With Gotham supposedly safe, they had gone to neighboring cities to be available to provide assistance as needed.

“I’m compiling some intel,” Cyborg warned.

The mood in the car shifted as they in turn shifted their focus to be ready for anything.

“Anomalies are being detected in various air quality testing stations. Organic compounds.”

“Respirators at the ready,” said Bruce. Fortunately, the Batmobile was air tight. 

He checked his own rebreather, as well.

Oracle began redeploying various heroes. Metropolis and Jersey did not appear to be affected. New York was.

Bruce stepped out of the Batmobile. 

“Agent A,” he said. 

“Ms. H will be alerted of the affected cities,” said Alfred, referring to Hafsatu Adedeji, who was once again running Wayne Enterprises Decentralized Emergency Command Post.

“Proceed to New York,” he told Robin and Black Bat. “Stop by the Turnpike Depot, and collect respirators for distribution. Stick together. I’ll Zeta to New York to collect an air sample, and begin analysis in the Batcave.”

“Understood,” said Black Bat.

“We will not let you down, father,” said Robin.

“I know,” said Bruce. 

Bruce got onto the Batcycle Black Bat had ridden over, and took off.

Things got busy fast.

“Oh, Ancients! Oh, Ancients.”

There was a little kid choking. 

“Heimlich!” Tim called over.

“Yeah,” Danny said, grabbing the kid up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said, yanking up under the kids sternum.

Nothing came out. 

“Check her tongue,” Clark called out to him.

It did feel kind of weird opening a kid’s mouth to look inside. “It’s swollen!”

“EpiPen!” Clark and Tim said.

Billy was already running for one. Danny held the kid down and Billy jabbed the kid’s leg. It was moments later, the girl gasped in a breath.

She disappeared soon after.

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” said Danny.

“Danny, grab me a mylar blanket,” said Tim.

“Yeah,” said Danny. 

“Anything, Billy?” Clark called out.

“Um,” said Billy. “It’s a…bothrops…jaracara.” A woman had appeared with a snake bite, and had apparently killed the snake and brought it with her. “Administer Bothropos Antivenin.”

Danny helped Tim drape the blanket over a hypothermia patient.

“Tim, do we have body-temperature saline?” asked Billy.

It was Clark who answered. “Check that cabinet there,” he said pointing to what Danny had thought was a refrigerator.

It was a hot box, and Danny did find a saline drip in it. He helped Tim administer it. 

There was another flash. 

“Bundle her up,” said Tim.

Danny nodded, already feeling haggard. 

If they weren’t careful, they were going to have four beds full at any moment now.

Clark was doing chest compression, and Billy was using both hands to press a mask against the man’s face, while Tim squeezed the air bladder attached to it to administer breaths. Billy was also watching the phone. They’d tried the AED, but it hadn’t been able to restart the heart. There were signs of some sort of bite or sting. They were just waiting on Twitter to give them some sort of answer.

There was another flash.

“I can’t leave her!” Danny shouted, distressed.

Billy and Tim looked over at the new patient, who was lying still on a table. There wasn’t any obvious bleeding.

“Go hook them up, Billy,” Tim said, putting his own hand on the mask. “Call out symptoms.”

Billy went and put on the pulse/ox meter and the blood pressure cuff. He started calling things off as he started poking and prodding at the guy. The blood pressure was low, heart rate was high. Billy couldn’t tell what was wrong.

“Uhhh, his stomach isn’t soft,” said Billy.

“Damn,” said Tim. “Billy, come take over the bag.”

“Okay,” said Billy. 

“Just like Tim was doing,” said Clark. Even he was looking harried.

They had lost a patient, already. They’d stopped the bleeding, but he had flatlined so suddenly, and he’d disappeared before they could do anything about it.

It hadn’t escaped Billy’s notice that Clark was moving just a little too fast. Just a little too sure. He wondered if it was noticeable through the broadcast.

Billy took the bag and did his best to hold it against the man’s face one-handed. This wasn’t really a job for eleven year old hands.

This wasn’t a job for Billy.

He looked down at the phone.

“Danny, administer an EpiPen.”

“On it,” said Danny, relief in his voice for having clear instruction.

Billy squeezed the bag, tense the whole time that it wasn’t going to be tight enough on the man’s face.

A heart rate monitor started to sound really fast.

Billy looked down at the phone and blanched. 

“NO EpiPen! NO EPIPEN!!

“Crap!” said Danny. “It’s too late! What do I do?!”

Billy started scanning through the feed.

“I- I don’t…”

It had said to administer an EpiPen!

“Breaths,” said Clark.

Billy had to focus on the breaths. There were still no answers.

There was the tone of a flatline, and then a flash of white light.

“No,” said Danny to the empty table. “No, no, no, no.”

“Danny, it’s not your fault,” Tim called out.

Was it Billy’s? He was sure it had said to administer the EpiPen.

Danny staggered off and threw up, sobbing.

“Dammit,” said Clark. “We’re stuck,” he called out to Tim.

“Me too,” said Tim.

None of them could go to Danny.

Billy had to do something.

He could do something.

Leaning over, he whispered into the man’s ear, like he was trying to say something encouraging.

«Steady as a trotting horse, sturdy and hale,» he breathed out in ancient Babylonian. 

The man’s heart started beating, and he disappeared. Billy staggered a little bit.

“How,” Clark breathed out, but there was no way he had missed what Billy had done. Perhaps it was deliberate on Clark’s part, that he did not look at Billy.

Clark rushed over to Danny, and Billy closed his eyes. He couldn’t fall apart, now. He looked back at the phone.

“Tim, it says to administer vitamin K, plasma, and platelets.”

“Can you go get those things, and then check again after?”

Billy nodded, feeling sick.

Had he read the feed wrong, or had someone given bad advice?

Billy grabbed the platelets and plasma. “Where’s the vitamin K?” he asked.

“Cabinet three,” said Clark.

Everything had such big labels; it was a big help.

Billy deposited everything with Tim, and checked the phone again.

He nodded. “Everyone’s saying yes to the treatment. Two milligrams of K to the IV.

Tim nodded.

There was another flash.

“Go to Danny,” Tim told him.

Billy nodded, and went to trade places with Clark.

He wound up as Danny’s teddybear as he cried.

“I killed her,” Danny said through his sobs.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Billy. 

Danny shook his head. 

“If anyone did anything wrong, it’s me,” said Billy, hoping to every god behind Shazam that he hadn’t. 

“It’s not your fault,” said Danny.

“Then shut the hell up,” said Billy. “If it’s not my fault then-”

“I really am a monster,” said Danny. 

This was really not the time for Danny’s trauma.

“Whatever you are, you’re my friend, and you help save people,” said Billy. “Now, someone else is going to appear real soon, and you’re going to have a choice to make.”

“What if I…”

“We’ll do our best,” said Billy. “You going to help us save them?”

Danny nodded. 

“You with me?” asked Billy. 

Danny nodded. 

“I don’t care when the next flash of light is,” said Billy. “Go get a drink of water.”

Danny nodded, and let go of Billy.

Billy pulled out the phone.

“Clark-” Another flash of light. “Get the AED!” he shouted as he ran to the new patient.

There was another little kid choking.

Billy rushed in to pull the kid off the table and do the Heimlich.

Nothing was coming out. He checked the kid’s mouth. It looked normal. Tears were streaming down their face, their eyes wide.

“Back blows!” Tim called out. “Hard.”

“Uh, sorry,” said Billy, and leaned the kid forward and started pounding on their back.

The kid was turning blue.

He tried the heimlich again.

“Forceps!” called out Tim.

Danny rushed in. “You get the forceps,” he said, laying the kid on his back.

Billy rushed over to the drawer that held all the tools like that.

He turned back around just as the kid took in a gasping breath and started coughing.

Danny was holding up a half a baby carrot.

Had he gotten that out with his fingers? 

How?

The kid disappeared.

“Okay,” said Danny. “Carrots. Okay.” 

He tossed it in a bin, and Billy set the forceps aside.

“I did it,” said Danny.

“You did it,” Billy agreed.

He turned back to the phone, but there was another flash of light.

“Danny, come here and do whatever the AED tells you to,” said Clark.

“Yeah,” said Danny.

Billy rushed to help connect the new patient to the monitors.

They worked. They did what they could. A woman died before they could identify the right treatment.

Then there were four patients, and it was Billy who had to rush over.

«I…I don’t know why I’m here,» said the older woman. «I’m fine.»

“Uhhh,” said Billy. The right side of her face was drooping. «Could you lay down for me?»

The woman licked her lips, looking uncertain. «I suppose.»

Billy started hooking her up to things. «I think you’re having a stroke.»

Clark said something in French, for some reason, from across the room, as he worked to stop some bleeding. 

In response, the woman raised her arms up, but her right arm drooped lower than the other. 

Billy checked his phone, as he realized that the reason Clark had asked his question in French was because Billy and the woman had been speaking in French without Billy realizing. The result of one of the first spells he’d ever cast on himself. 

He read off her stats.

«Do you have a headache?» he asked.

«Well, not at all,» she said.

The phone had his answer. 

«Just a minute,» he told the lady. 

He looked across the room as he went to get the stroke medication he’d noted earlier. Clark and Tim definitely couldn’t leave their patients. Billy didn’t think Danny knew how to administer an IV injection. He changed his gloves and grabbed the tenecteplase he’d found earlier, and the rest of the injection stuff.

Okay.

Okay.

«Steady hands, sure and quick,» he incanted quietly in ancient Sumerian. 

It might have been a mistake. He felt woozy, after.

He powered through.

«Okay, um, the doctor’s said to give you this,» said Billy.

«You really think I’m… I’m…having a…stroke.»

«We’ll have you right as rain,» said Billy. 

He helped her roll up her sleeve, when it became clear she couldn’t. 

Billy didn’t feel steady, but his hands were, as he tied off the elastic and found the vein. He wiped her down with a prep pad.

«This’ll barely even pinch,» said Billy, pulling the cap off the syringe. 

He felt ridiculous. An eleven year old giving injections.

The needle slipped in without any issue, and Billy slowly pressed down the plunger.

He checked the phone.

«Um, you can just lie-»

She disappeared, and Billy set his elbows against the table, taking deep breaths.

“Oh Ancients! Oh god! Oh no!”

The kid was screaming.

Of course they were screaming, their whole arm and shoulder were burned like crazy.

Billy ran over and helped hold them down. Danny ‘examined’ their literally steaming arm, putting off as much cold as he could without putting off billows in the air.

“Oh Ancients!”

The kid wouldn’t stop screaming.

Until Billy whispered something in their ear.

The kid panted for a few seconds, before his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

Danny wasn’t going to question it.

“Hook him up,” he said.

“Use the hose attachment!” Tim called out.

Danny rushed to grab the hose hanging on the side of the bed, and opened the valve before holding the nozzle over the kid’s arm and turning it on. He started running the water up and down the kid’s arm and shoulder. 

Billy’s eyes were glued to the kid’s burned arm.

“Hot oil?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Danny, imagining the mechanics of it. The kid maybe pulling a pot over on the stove.

Honestly, it could have been a lot worse, but how was he too far from help? Were there even any adults there?

“Treat for shock?” Danny asked the room.

“Yes!” said Tim.

“I got the hose,” said Billy.

Danny handed it to him, and went to get a blanket and the leg raisers. 

“They’re saying to roll him over and get him from the other side, before we turn him back and raise his legs.

Danny nodded. 

As gently as he could, he rolled the kid over. 

Danny was crying again.

“We’re helping him,” Billy said.

“I know,” said Danny. “Why couldn’t they have just sent him to a burn unit?”

Billy took a deep breath through his nose, and Danny set about wrapping the mylar blanket around the kid’s body.

“Doctor’s saying anything, Billy?” asked Tim as Clark’s patient disappeared.

“Nothing new,” said Billy.

“There’s only two patients,” said Clark.

Danny looked around.

Sure enough, Danny’s burn victim, and Tim’s stabbing victim were the only ones.

“Is it…is it almost over?” asked Billy.

Clark came over and took the hose from Billy.

“Billy, go sit down, okay?” 

Billy nodded. 

“Danny-”

“I’ll change my gloves and go help Tim,” said Danny, rubbing his face on his shoulder.

“You’re both doing so good,” said Clark.

Danny still didn’t feel like it.

The burn victim was the last to disappear. Half an hour of running water, with the lot of them sitting around him, holding his good hand, petting his hair, whispering soothing things to him. And then they’d carefully dried and wrapped the arm and shoulder. Somehow, the kid, maybe seven years old, had stayed unconscious through the whole thing. 

Not somehow, actually. Billy had been using magic.

It was definitely an indication that Billy was Captain Marvel, but Clark had been under the impression he hadn’t had any powers as Billy. 

Well, whatever powers he had, he definitely didn’t have Captain Marvel’s stamina or invulnerability. Or strength. Wise beyond his years, but the Wisdom of Solomon he did not have. 

The magic had also been exhausting the kid. Clark had noticed him drooping with every spell he cast, especially as he had to keep casting that pain relieving spell on their last patient. Clark had been starting to think they’d have an extra patient, by the end of the night.

“What a stunning performance!” the Cleric Host called out. 

“Shove off,” said Tim, slumped against the cabinets along the floor.

“Our contestants received forty patients, and stabilized thirty-seven of them! All glory, to Antantlous, that is thirty-seven lives saved!”

Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Danny started crying again and Clark squeezed his shoulder.

There was still a main event.

“Please heal them,” Billy was murmuring. “Please, please, please.”

They were all suddenly relocated.

“Well, I’ve got it from here,” said the Cleric Game Master.

Clark closed his eyes, for just a moment.

“We’re exhausted,” he told the cleric. “Maybe we can have our big event tomorrow morning.”

“Nonsense!” said the Game Master. “Why, I think most of you work best under pressure. Besides, you didn’t rescue all forty of your patients. That means, incidentally, you’ll have a little downtime, before you can start addressing the very pressing problem that’s arisen back on Earth.”

They were just outside of some sort of chemical laboratory. Open air, for the audience, of course.

“So it’s already started, then,” said Tim.

“Indeed,” said the Game Master. “We’ve chosen fifty locations taken from a random sampling of cities with over three million people, from countries that wantonly exploit their neighbors in the global south. And, into those cities, we have released a toxin into the air. Tim, Gotham, of course, is immune from this random selection.”

“Why?!” asked Billy. “Why would you do that?”

“So that you can save them,” said the Cleric. 

“Which cities?” Billy demanded. “Did you do this to Fawcett?”

“Now, that would be telling,” said the cleric. 

Billy about shrieked.

“You will have until midnight to complete the task of creating one hundred doses of an airborne anti-toxin. Should you accomplish this, Antantlous will multiply your anti-toxin to cover all of the affected cities. Because you failed to save three patients, you will have to wait three times ten, thirty minutes, before you can begin your work. You’ll have to wait here, outside the lab. In the meantime, I’ll give you this little clue for your work. Only people who have had the Prevnar-7 vaccine are susceptible to this toxin. It is a psychoactive toxin, inducing mania, possibly violent mania, after it’s been in the body long enough, and further neurological symptoms as the toxin goes unaddressed. In many cases, it would be fatal.”

“That’s really messed up,” said Tim.

It was incredibly messed up.

“A little less messed up than you may think,” said the Cleric Game Master. “You’ll see,” he said, with a wink. “But, while we wait, perhaps a little justice is to be had.”

There was a flash of light and a young man in a stained t-shirt and boxers appeared, looking very shocked to be there.

“This is Carl Barrett.”

“N-no, it isn’t!” said Carl Barrett, a little too desperately to be anything but a lie.

“He considers himself as something of a hacker and a troll.”

“No, you got the wrong guy.”

Clark was pretty sure Carl knew exactly what he was there for.

“Carl here has control of a few bot nets on Twitter, and tonight, he thought it would be very funny to have them spam incorrect medical advice to you.”

Danny’s breathing was picking up.

“In fact, he was the one who told Danny to administer that lethal EpiPen. There were other times he downvoted good medical advice so it would not reach you in time.”

Danny howled, and it took even more of Clark’s strength than he had expected to hold him back.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“I- I didn’t! I wouldn’t…”

Danny screamed, and Clark whirled them around so Danny couldn’t see the man, engaging his flight to keep them from leaving the ground.

“Danny,” said the Cleric, “are you hoping to address this directly.”

“HOW COULD YOU?!”

“I- I-”

“Danny, there will be justice,” said Clark. “The law will handle him.”

Danny screamed again, but he sagged against Clark, crying.

“Why? Why? Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Clark.

Danny hugged him tighter than you should hug a human.

“Could you get rid of this psycho?” asked Tim.

“If you’re satisfied that justice will be done,” said the Cleric.

“We’re satisfied,” Clark bit out.

From behind them, there was a flash of white light.

Billy sniffled. “Then, it wasn’t my fault?”

“It wasn’t either of your faults,” said Clark. “You both did what you were supposed to, in that moment.”

“I still killed her,” said Danny.

“But you’re not responsible,” said Clark. “You did what you could.”

It was probably for the best that they had a half an hour. And, they were cleaned up, with no blood covered scrubs. They could just hydrate, and eat some snacks, which Clark started handing out.

“Good news is, Prevnar-7 was phased out to Prevnar-16 back in 2004,” said Tim. “It’s generally administered at age five. So…”

“So it should only be adults who are affected,” said Danny, nursing a bottle of water.

“What else are the doctors of Twitter saying?” asked Clark.

“Hm? Oh. No. I’m on a reference material I had on my phone.”

“You just had that on your phone?” asked Billy. He was starfished on the ground, looking up at the sky.

“I have lots of information on my phone,” said Tim. 

“Don’t bother trying to consult with experts on Earth,” said the Cleric Game Master, “the socials feed has been turned off for you.”

“Don’t we have a half-an-hour to not deal with you?” asked Danny.

“I’ll see you then,” said the Cleric with a wink, disappearing.

They…decompressed, a little, for the next few minutes. As much as they could, anyway, with the Tantalans doing replays of highlights from their trauma center. They’d abducted an ER doctor to provide commentary, apparently.

“Amity Park has only like, three hundred thousand people,” said Danny, sounding a little vacant. 

All of Danny’s grief and fear for the town he thought he’d failed, and Amity Park had never been on the chopping block to begin with.

“That’s good,” said Clark. “That must be a relief.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.

“So,” said Tim, “children are immune. That’s good.”

“What about the children being taken care of by manic adults?” asked Billy.

Clark nodded. “I don’t know if it’s obvious, back on Earth, which cities have been affected, yet. But parents of young children should probably be looking for teenagers who can babysit their kids. Maybe looking to start isolating themselves from all of their children.”

“They have until midnight?” asked Billy.

“No,” said Tim, “that’s how long we have to create an anti-toxin that Antantlous will disburse for us. We have no idea how long it may take for the toxin to start causing symptoms in the victims.”

“Should also worry about mass hysteria,” said Danny. 

Clark nodded. “People, even in non-affected cities, see someone acting out of the ordinary, think it’s the toxin, freak out, people think they’re manic, panic spreads. Mania becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“People start doing terrible things and blame it on the mania,” said Billy.

That was not an insight Clark would expect from most eleven year olds.

“Guns,” said Danny. “People should lock up their guns before they go manic.”

“Oh crap, a bunch of manic cops with guns,” Billy mused. “Not that there’d be much difference.”

“I’m sure, at this point, that the Justice League and local governments are organizing the response on Earth,” Tim said.

It was probably best to stop speculating.

“So,” said Billy, once they’d all had a moment to ponder the chaos that was brewing. “Can Tim and Danny actually pull this off?”

“Uhhh,” said Danny.

“I can spearhead the project,” said Tim. “Danny, you’ll be my lab assistant; just let me know if I ask you to do something you don’t feel comfortable doing. Clark, I see a number of reference books over there; I’ll have you on data compilation.”

“Anything for me?” asked Billy.

“Uhh, gofer?” 

“Go for this, go for that?” asked Billy.

“Yeah, that’s it,” said Tim.

“Figures,” said Billy. He upended what was left of his water bottle over his forehead.

“You doing okay, Billy?” asked Clark.

“Ask me tomorrow,” said Billy. He still looked exhausted.

Clark nodded.

His worry for Billy and Danny had exploded after the last challenge. They were just too young and untrained to be dealing with life or death situations. To lose people.

Tim kept researching on his phone until they were allowed into the lab at 7:52 PM. Then, he walked across the lab to where a number of books were on a freestanding book shelf, and started pulling down tomes. These were handed to Clark, with specific instructions on the information Tim wanted. 

Billy was told to start familiarizing himself with everything in the lab, but to also not touch anything.

“What’s in that cabinet?” Tim asked Danny, pointing.

Danny looked. “Uhh, looks like, um, basically samples of…every element?”

There were a number of serious looking canisters on the bottom shelves that had such interesting labels as: Plutonium 94, and Californium 98, with radiological warnings.

Danny hoped they wouldn’t need those.

He went to the next cabinet over. “Solvents,” he said, “just, everything you could need for complex chemistry.”

“Nice,” said Tim. He was starting up a mass spectrometer. “Do you think you can safely get me a microliter of the toxin?” 

“On it,” said Danny.

The toxin was helpfully front and center on one of the lab tables, an ampule of liquid. Danny put on some PPE, though he probably didn’t need it, and took it over to a fume hood. Breaking off the top of the ampule, Danny poured the contents into a small flask before he used a special pipette to get a minuscule amount out. Finished, he put a rubber stopper in the flask.

“Is it ready?” Danny asked as he approached Tim, who was getting the mass spectrometer ready. 

“You know how to run the sample?” asked Tim.

It wasn’t dissimilar to what was in the Fenton lab, so Danny nodded.

“I’ll be running reaction tests,” said Tim. “Let me know when we have results.”

“Yeah.”

Danny set about his task.

He really hoped Tim knew what he was doing.

He didn’t know what he’d do if they had another failure, tonight.

It wasn’t as though Tim wasn’t known for being an active part of Wayne Enterprises R and D. Developing this antidote, though, and in a single night… He was rather showing more than he would otherwise be willing. The damage this toxin could do, however, was not something Tim could allow, no matter how revealing it was.

At the very least, they had the very best equipment you could have for such a project. Excepting for an electronic database, that was. There were computers with relevant software on it, and Clark was using it to compile the data Tim had asked for, but there would be no quick look-ups. Fortunately, if there was anyone who could use just a smidge of super speed with enough surety to not give away the fact he was using super speed, it was Clark.

“I’ve got the results,” said Danny.

“Clark, can you pull it up on your workstation?”

“I’ve got it,” said Clark.

“Danny, can you take over these reaction tests?” asked Tim.

“On it,” said Danny.

Tim went over to look over Clark’s shoulder.

“Okay,” said Tim. 

He started crossing out most of the items on the list he’d given to Clark. “Just focus on these,” he said. “I’m going to start working on computer models.” 

Raising his voice to Danny. “Call out your results to me as you get them,” he told Danny.

“Will do,” said Danny.

Already, it was looking like Tim’s initial assumption was correct, that the toxin would bind on the specific antigens created by the Prevnar-7 vaccine, to create a new compound capable of crossing the blood-brain barrier. The Tantalans could have, perhaps, used any number of proteins found in the body to target, but Tim thought it was deliberate they’d targeted the Prevnar-7 anti-bodies because they were only found in adults. Regardless of why it had been selected, though, Tim had enough information now to start working on molecular models, and he’d be able to narrow them down further as Danny gave him results. Though, he’d also have to make more models as Clark finished getting him more variables…

Across the lab, Billy was fetching something for Danny. From his body language, Tim could tell the younger boy felt inadequate in the current situation. It wasn’t like the kid could blame himself, though. He was an eleven year old kid dropped into a high-tech laboratory. Maybe if he was Captain Marvel, he could pull a miracle from out of nowhere, but Tim was not at the point of asking him to do that.

Yet.

This was doable.

Initially, there were only a few scattered incidents; perhaps persons predisposed to be sensitive to the toxin for one reason or another. Or perhaps not. Mania or hysteria, it was yet to be determined. Some of those first incidents, prior to the announcement of the toxin, could have been the result of intoxicants or already existing mental health conditions. It was an hour into the belated start of the second challenge that the collective masses all began to display signs of mania. As per father’s orders, Robin and Black Bat were sticking together, and addressing incidents as they came to them. They had passed out the respirators they had recovered from the depot, but Damian suspected the damage had already been done. Meanwhile, he and Black Bat wore their own respirators, though the intel thus far suggested they would not be susceptible. One did not take a supervillain’s word for it, after all.

Damian was not overly worried about the outcome of this final challenge of the day, rather about the damage that would be done before it was over. Timothy was, admittedly, of above average intelligence, had what seemed to be the best equipment available, and Batman’s training in neutralizing toxins. Unless the task was literally impossible, a consideration of which Damian was unable to assess at this time, then Timothy was likely up to the task, assuming the cretins he was with did not sabotage him and Superman. 

“Be nice,” said Black Bat, and Damian pressed his lips together.

She always knew when he was being uncharitable, even in the privacy of his own head.

In the sky, the broadcast went on. Because the average person was a moron, and thus would not be entertained by methodical lab work, the Tantalans had taken to abducting professors and entertainers with science backgrounds to talk about what was happening in the lab. They likely should have stuck with just one individual, as each new abductee took at least two minutes to regain their composure after their abduction. 

“We’ve got an active gunman a mile from your location,” said Oracle. 

“On the move,” said Black Bat.

He should transform. With the speed of Mercury and the Wisdom of Solomon, he could do all of this so much faster…

Well, not so much faster, probably. Machines took time to run. Chemical reactions took time to complete. But faster.

At what point did the cons of revealing himself as Captain Marvel become outweighed by cons of not? Billy didn’t know. He would know if he was Captain Marvel, but he wasn’t the Captain right now.

Even Captain Marvel did not know who he would become, if he lost his identity as Billy.

A test tube fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

“Crap,” he said.

“It’s fine,” said Danny. “Just toss it and get a new one.”

“It looks fine?” said Billy.

“Just toss it. Plenty of test tubes.”

Billy set everything else in his hands down and picked up the test tube. 

“There’s a cart, if you’re carrying a lot of things,” said Clark.

“Right,” said Billy.

Once again, he was the weak link. Danny had rallied after his earlier breakdowns, seeming to have an endless ability to focus through his trauma when lives were on the line. He may not know how to do what Tim was doing now, but he had taken over Tim’s reaction tests without missing a beat.

A while later, Danny called out a test result, and announced he was done with all of them. Looking up at a clock on the wall, Billy saw that it was almost 9:30.

“Set up some samples for imaging?” asked Tim. 

“On it,” said Danny, who started delegating to Billy to grab some more supplies while Danny went over to one of the chemical cabinets.

While Danny was preparing samples, Tim called out that he wanted Danny to start with a specific one.

“You got a lead?” asked Danny.

“I’ve got a likely candidate,” said Tim.

Danny changed tracks, moving to one of the less traditional of microscope slides Billy had brought him. Billy hung by, feeling kind of useless, and watched Danny add some sort of dye and finish the slide. Danny carried it over to one of the machines that did not really look like a microscope, and put it in some sort of slot. He turned it on.

“Uhhh,” he said after poking at things for a bit. “I’m not sure about this UI,” he called out to Tim.

“That’s okay,” said Tim, getting up from his workstation.

He came over and started poking at the screen Danny had been. Eventually, he got things how he wanted, and he peered through an eye-hole, adjusting a slider on the machine to just how he liked it.

“Alright,” said Tim, nodding. “Alright, I think we’ve got it.”

He let Danny take a look.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m looking at,” said Danny. “Looks cool, though.”

“It looks like I know how it binds to the pneumonia antigens,” said Tim. “That means we know what parts of the antigen aren’t bound, and we can target our own antidote to bind to them, and neutralize the whole thing.”

“You can do that?” asked Billy.

Tim paused.

“Yes,” he said firmly. He nodded, as though to reassure himself.

“What’s the plan?” asked Danny. 

Tim started explaining the setup he wanted Danny to do, calling Clark over to help. Then he went over to his computer to keep working on his modeling, or whatever. Billy kept busy, alternately fetching supplies and watching intently as Danny and Clark worked setting up a bunch of glassware and bunsen burners and the like. Sometimes he held things for them. It was odd seeing Clark take Danny’s lead as they worked.

Clark could have taken the lead. He could have done a lot of what Tim was doing. But, as far as the world was concerned, Tim was heavily involved in Wayne Enterprises R&D, Danny grew up with a lab in his basement, and Clark was a just a mild mannered reporter. Fortunately, things were moving along fine, and they didn’t have to worry about asking Clark to do more.

Eventually, Tim came over with a firm plan of action. 

They only had an hour and a half left.

Tim asked Billy to go get him the gallium, element thirty-one, and sent Danny to fetch a solvent to dissolve it in.

Billy went to the cabinet of elements, which was helpfully organized according to atomic number.

But…

His eyes kept scanning, increasingly desperately. 

“There’s no gallium!” he called out.

“What?” asked Tim.

Danny rushed over and started scanning the cabinet himself.

“It…it’s not… Can we use something else?”

“No!” said Tim. 

He and Clark rushed over and they all started pulling the cabinet apart, trying to find the missing element.

“Everything else is here,” said Tim. “Why…”

“There’s no substitute?” asked Clark.

“No!” said Tim. “We can’t just substitute something in for gallium. I’d have to completely remodel everything, start over. There’s no time! We could… we could use plutonium to degrade…That would take too long.”

In spite of everything, Billy was a little relieved to hear they would not be messing with the plutonium. 

“Something with a shorter half-life than plutonium?” asked Danny.

“I’m not seeing the equipment we’d need to handle that safely,” said Tim. “Even then…”

So. Actually, there was something Billy could do to help.

Gallium was the highest element on the periodic table that Billy could create with magic. Which was just so perfect, wasn’t it? That they’d need gallium, and the Tantalan’s wouldn’t provide it, and, oh, hey! Billy can show the whole world he has magic!

“How much do you need?” he asked Tim, walking over to the table Clark had been using.

“What?” asked Tim.

“How much do you need?” 

“Billy, there’s no gallium, not a small amount we could somehow stretch for our purposes.”

Billy pulled a random page out of one of the books. Paper was still his favorite starting substance. 

«Soft and silver blue,» Billy incanted in Ancient Sumerian.

He fell on his butt.

“Is that enough?” he asked weakly.

“Oh,” said Tim.

“Well?” asked Billy.

“Danny, could you weigh that for me?” asked Tim, as he and Clark rushed over.

“I’m okay,” said Billy. “Just exhausted.”

“You have magic?” asked Tim.

“Er, yeah,” said Billy.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Clark.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed.

“Let me get you some water,” said Clark.

Tim had Billy lay down on his side, and Clark grabbed one of their bottles of water.

“The gallium’s not going to change back, later is it? If this is going into people’s bodies, then we can’t have it doing that.”

“It’s stable,” said Billy. Unlike some people, Billy did not sell bad copper.

“Two hundred fifty-five grams,” Danny called out.

“Okay,” said Tim. “We need three times that.”

Billy huffed.

Could he actually do this?

“Okay, so I may have tired myself out using magic during the first challenge,” he said.

“Is it doable?” asked Tim.

“I don’t know,” said Billy, not super hopeful.

“I’ll start dissolving what we have,” said Danny.

“Use PPE!” Clark called back to him.

“Would it help if you ate something?” asked Tim.

“Some,” said Billy.

He didn’t think it would be enough.

Bruce was, of course, adaptable, and had begun his analysis of the toxin in an analog fashion, with most of his screens taken over by the broadcast. Of course, he was also cribbing off of Tim’s work, being broadcast. Hopefully, Bruce’s efforts would be entirely redundant. Even if Bruce had had full access to all of his equipment, there would have been no way for the Justice League to synthesize enough antidote for everyone affected. If young Billy was not able to conjure up enough gallium to finish the antidote, then the Justice League would be stuck playing a frantic game of catchup, mitigating terrible harm, instead of erasing it.

Constantine, meanwhile, had been abducted to talk about magic.

“Absolutely no one should try what that little mite did, at home,” the man was saying, clearly fuming to have been abducted and unable to do anything about it. Bruce had seen him try to open a portal, only to have it negated. “Magic is incredibly dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. Even if you just naturally have magic in you. Especially if you just naturally have magic in you. Whoever you are, I guarantee you, people a lot smarter and cleverer than you have lost their lives, lost their minds, lost their wives to magic. Even with good training, the people who make it in this field are few and far between. Not sure what that little blighter’s got going on, but you’d be a damned idjet to follow in his footsteps.”

“Do you think he has what it takes to make enough gallium?” asked the Cleric Host.

“He’s a little bugger,” said Constantine. Bruce glared at the screen. “Doubt he has the stamina.”

Constantine subsequently got pied in the face without warning. Bruce smiled. 

“Language, please,” said the Cleric Host. “That’s a child you’re talking about.”

“Oh, now you care he’s a child,” said Constantine, vanishing the cream from his face with a flick of his wrist.

Danny watched as the last bits of gallium were dissolving away. Nearby, Tim was working on his own chemistry project. Across the lab, Clark was sitting with Billy, who’d been snacking.

Magic, huh? 

It made sense. Billy clearly didn’t have any of what Clark had going on for him, or what Tim had going for him. He definitely didn’t have what Danny had going on. But Magic, yeah, that could make someone dangerous.

The powerful part, though…

Maybe it was something Billy was supposed to grow into? Which didn’t solve the current problem.

Danny was becoming more and more concerned, though. Billy had the look of a boy who was gearing himself up to do something he really knew he shouldn’t. What that something was, Danny didn’t know. It could be that Billy was planning to exhaust himself to a completely dangerous point, or it could be that he was deciding he needed to reveal some other power that would blow all his secrets wide open.

Whatever it was, Danny was sure it wouldn’t be good for Billy.

However, an idea was forming in Danny’s mind. One that could actually help all of them, if it went well.

He drummed his fingers on the lab table a moment, before he decided.

Leaning up against the table he was working on, and as surreptitiously as he could, Danny reached up under his shirt to cover up the fact that he was reaching his hand into his own body.

“I’ve got something that could help,” he announced as he pulled out the Fenton Thermos. 

“Is that a thermos?” asked Tim. “Where’d it come from?”

“It’s collapsible,” Danny lied. “I didn’t say anything about it, because…I’ve had something of a passenger this whole time. Um, don’t freak out.”

“Are you sure about whatever this is?” asked Clark, sounding concerned.

“Yep,” Danny lied again.

He opened the thermos, and out came Ember.

“ALRIGHT!” she said, sounding supremely peeved. “Now, I don’t know what you think I did to deserve being kept in there for so…” 

She trailed off as she took in her surroundings.

“Uhhh,” she said as she took in the alien audience.

“Hey, Ember,” said Danny. “So, I’ve been abducted, and am currently playing the role of a dancing monkey trying to save the world. How would you like to perform for literally the whole world, and more?” 

She turned back to look at him, her eyes wide, fixated on what Danny was saying.

“You know the answer to that,” she said.

“No mind control,” said Danny, “and you focus some of that energy on us, here. Give us a boost, especially Billy there. He’s got some spells to cast.”

“What, uh, what are you working on here?” Ember asked, and Danny could see her already mentally composing a song in her head.

“We’re making an antidote to save millions of people,” said Danny. “You in?”

“Heck yeah, I’m in! I’m about to become the star of this whole show!” 

“You ready to entertain?” He couldn’t help but grin, feeling in some small way that he’d stollen a bit of Antantlous’ domain.

“I died ready!” she said, pulling her guitar up from her back by the neck. She let out a powerful strum as she sailed up into the sky.

“So, uh, that’s a ghost?” asked Clark.

“Uh huh,” said Danny.

“No mind control?” asked Tim.

“She’s dabbled in it,” said Danny.

“Should we be concerned?” asked Clark.

“I think she’ll behave,” said Danny.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Clark as Ember really started playing.

“Man, I’m flying by the seat of my pants,” said Danny. As he always was.

Ember started rocking out to her brand new original song, about captive entertainers saving the world from a poison. She was making up the details as she went along, but she was definitely doing a good job of amping up her audience. Their adoration for her fed her, and in turn she was feeding some of it back to the four of them.

“I’m uh, I’m feeling pretty good,” said Billy, walking up with another couple pages torn from the book.

“Good enough?” asked Clark.

Billy nodded.

“Why don’t you sit down, this time.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I need it,” said Billy, but he did take the lab stool Clark pulled up for him.

“Soft and silver blue,” said Billy, which sounded way too simple for a magic spell. The two pieces of paper turned into two sheets of what was essentially gallium foil.

“Soft and-” Danny started, but Billy shoved a hand over his mouth.

“Do not try to cast magic, you idiot!”

Danny pulled his hand away. “I wasn’t trying to cast magic!”

“Then why were you repeating my incantation?”

“I’m sorry, I figured if anyone could wreck themselves saying four simple words, we’d know about it by now.”

“Who’s going around talking in Ancient Sumerian?” asked Billy.

Ancient Sumerian?

Oh.

A dead language.

Danny was saved from trying to come up with an explanation by Clark.

“Well, good job, Billy, and a good save with Ms. Ember, Danny! How about we dissolve this gallium for Tim, now.”

“Uh, right,” said Danny.

Had he just given something away? Would people notice that Danny hadn’t realized they were speaking a completely different language? Maybe they’d just think he was the idiot Billy had called him out as.

This whole ghost concert thing was actually working out really well. Tim had his gallium and had an energy about him like he’d drunk a whole pot of coffee. Danny and Billy were in good spirits, in spite of their almost-spat earlier. Even Clark was feeling some of the emotional weariness from earlier fading as Ms. Ember continued playing her…Well, he maybe couldn’t say her ‘heart’, out.

There were a few times, Clark had worried her lyrics would be considered sacrilegious or apocryphal, but so far Antantlous had just been clapping their hands along with the beat, like they were enjoying the concert.

The music was good, in Clark’s estimation. He thought it was the sort of thing Connor would go for, if Clark had a good impression of what Connor liked. There was still a sizable chasm between them, but Clark had been slowly, perhaps too slowly, winnowing it down.

“This is the last step,” said Tim, with twenty-seven minutes on the clock left. “Either this reacts the way I expect it to, and we get our antidote, or it doesn’t…”

“Should we be doing any tests first, to make sure?” asked Danny.

Tim shook his head. “At this point, if anything’s wrong, we won’t have enough time to correct it.”

Tim set one flask to drip down into another, on a hotplate with a stir bar whirling in place. The reaction was fast, and an almost iridescent blue vapor started forming in the flask, traveling up a glass tube to a heat exchange coil, cooling down to the point of turning back into a liquid, and collecting in a beaker, taking on a more lavender hue. 

“How much do we need?” asked Danny.

“I’ve estimated a person would need to breathe in a gram of our antidote to be effective, but two grams if we’re looking for a rapid cessation of symptoms. Times a hundred is two hundred grams. I’ve estimated a two-hundred-fifty gram yield.”

“That’s a lot of estimating,” said Danny.

“Should I have made more gallium?” asked Billy.

“Only if you could have made more iodine,” said Tim. “We ran out of that before the gallium.”

“What’s the atomic number of iodine?” asked Billy.

“Fifty-three,” said Tim.

“Then, no,” said Billy.

They settled in to watch the reaction through. Ember, an apparently tireless ghost, kept playing, her music taking on a more frantic note, playing into the countdown timer.

It felt like waiting forever, even with the music, or perhaps because of it. Time had been somewhat mercurial to Clark the entire night. Seeming too fast or immaterial at times, now stretched out agonizingly long as they watched the beaker fill and compared it to the countdown. Tim kept making tiny adjustments to the flow rate of the one flask, or how hot the hot plate was, and had Billy get more ice for the heat exchange. But, with three and a half minutes left on the clock, the reaction slowed to near nothing, and Tim took the product and started adding a powder to it.

“I thought that was the last step,” said Billy.

“Last major step,” said Tim as the powder started binding with something, a chemical byproduct, Clark supposed, and sinking to the bottom. Tim carried it all over to a vacuum filter, still stirring with a glass rod.

“We got enough time?” asked Danny.

“We got enough time,” said Tim. 

He poured the contents of the beaker into the filter and activated it. The lavender liquid fell down through the filter, leaving the particulates behind. Tim opened a valve, and let the liquid pour down into a new beaker.

“That’s it,” he said. 

They all found themselves looking around, waiting for some reaction from the Game Master or Host. 

“Right?” Tim asked loudly.

The music changed, the lyrics picking up Tim’s question.

It was apparently what the clerics had been waiting for.

“And, with two minutes and seven seconds left until midnight, our contestants have successfully created over one-hundred doses of a safe and effective antidote to the toxin!” cried out the Cleric Game Master, now with them in the lab.

Above them, Ms. Ember belted out the conclusion to her song, victorious.

“A fantastic performance from our contestants!” said the Cleric Host. “And a lovely surprise performance from Ember McClain! Can I hear a round of applause for our ghostly rocker?”

There was indeed raucous applause from the audience, and Clark and the boys found themselves joining in. 

“Oh, my,” said Ms. Ember, soaking it all in. “Well, I love you all, too!”

“Of course, she is rather stealing the show, so we’ll have to send her on back to the Infinite Realms,” said the Cleric Host.

“Aw, well, you can call me back anytime,” she said, giving big waves to the audience before she disappeared.

“And not one word of complaint about us being captive,” Danny muttered to himself.

“Well, you did, apparently, keep her in a little tube for over a week,” said Tim.

“It’s not my fault I got abducted,” said Danny. “I didn’t want to get her mixed up in all this.”

“I mean, you did have her locked up in a tube in the first place,” said Tim.

“She was making trouble!” said Danny. “I was just going to send her back to the Ghost Zone.”

“How long until we can go to bed?” asked Billy, apparently already crashing now the song was over.

“Oh, not just yet,” said the Cleric Game master. “You see, there’s just one more thing to take care of, before the antidote can be distributed.” 

Of course there was.

A pedestal appeared next to him, with some sort of box on top. 

“If you’ll all come and join me here,” said the cleric.

The box was lined with lead, so… Whatever was inside, Clark did not like where this might be heading. He almost wanted to protest, but would doing so jeopardize the distribution of the antidote?

The cleric had them array themselves around the pedestal, and then snapped his fingers for effect. A number of those shimmering barely-there forcefields appeared, separating them from each other and the pedestal.

The cleric opened the box, revealing a big blue button.

“Now,” they said, “you’re probably wondering what this button does.”

“Something awful?” asked Billy.

“Something awful, indeed.”

“Not sure why we’d press it, then,” said Danny.

“Well, a billion dollars in untraceable crypto currency and an instant exit from the games might just entice you,” said the Cleric. “The force fields will allow a single individual at a time to reach through and potentially press the button. All it will cost you is the antidote you just spent the night making.”

“We’re not doing that,” Clark said tiredly. “Can you please just have mercy on tonight’s victims and disburse the antidote now?”

“Well, let’s see, now. Tim,” said the Cleric Game Master. “I believe the rich are always looking to get richer.”

“That’s not what motivates me,” said Tim. “And even if it were, and even if I had no care for millions of lives, anyone who pushed this button would be hunted to the ends of the Earth as an accessory to mass murder.”

“Perhaps I’ll sweeten the deal,” said the cleric. “A luxury hidden private island compound.”

“Again,” said Tim. “Millions of lives.”

“And if I told you that one of those lives belonged to the Daughter of Acheron?” asked the cleric.

The name was unfamiliar to Clark, but he saw the way Tim’s nostrils flared minutely.

“What?”

“Are you able to feel safe, knowing that she is out there? She has escaped from prison.”

Other than the flaring of nostrils, Tim kept a good mask in place. Physiologically, though, Clark could see an adrenaline response.

“I might feel safer with her gone,” said Tim, “but I’d hardly sleep better at night, given the price.”

“Don’t you deserve to feel safe?”

“If you think so, then end this tournament,” said Tim.

“Dear boy,” said the cleric, before moving on to Danny. 

“Eat dirt and cry about it,” said Danny.

“And if I told you the director of the Ghost Investigation Ward was among those affected?”

“Then I’d tell you to eat dirt and cry about it!” said Danny.

“You don’t think the world would be a better place without them?”

“I think he’d be replaced in about five seconds,” said Danny.

“She, actually,” said the cleric.

“Diversity win!” Danny said scathingly. “The head of the xenocide division is a woman! No.”

“Billy,” said the cleric. 

“Can we not?”

“All this time, you’ve struggled,” said the cleric. “You don’t have to struggle, any longer.” 

“Get lost,” said Billy. “I’m not killing people.”

“You wouldn’t be,” said the cleric. “That action has already been taken.”

“Oh, yeah, your logic checks out so well. Guess I’ll condemn millions of people. Idiot.”

“Even if Marc Culver were among those condemned?” asked the cleric.

Where Tim’s trauma response had been visually minuscule, Billy’s was on full display as he reared back from the name.

“You shut the hell up!” he shouted, his pupils blown wide open.

“Don’t you deserve justice for what he did to you?” asked the cleric. “You trusted him, and he betrayed that trust.”

Clark wanted to shake them. Violently.

“I’m not talking about him with you!” cried Billy, tears falling from his eyes.

“Alright, Billy,” said the cleric, as though he was just trying to help Billy, and Billy were being unreasonable.

“So, Fawcett’s affected, then, right? You were trying to get me to forsake my hometown?” Billy asked, his voice barely under control.

“Do you really feel you are responsible for those people?” asked the Cleric.

The noise Billy let out was more animalistic than a shout.

“This is entertaining?” Clark asked, as the cleric turned finally to him.

“Oh, we’re doing numbers,” said the cleric.

“A bit of a captive audience,” said Clark.

“Only on Earth,” said the cleric. “Though, I wonder how communities in the global south feel to see the tables turned, tonight?”

“Social justice and mass murder are antithetical to each other,” said Clark. “My answer’s ‘no’. I don’t care where the chips would fall; who’s affected, who’s not. My answer is ‘no.’”

“Final answer for the lot of you?” asked the Cleric.

“Can this be over and I can hug my friends?” asked Danny.

“Oh, I suppose,” said the cleric, letting the forcefields and pedestal disappear.

“No hugs,” said Billy.

Danny grumbled but turned to Tim and gave him a hug.

Danny wasn’t the only one who thought Billy needed a hug, but Clark would respect his boundaries.

“And, just like that, our contestants have avoided temptation, and Antantlous, all glory be, will be disbursing their antidote to all affected persons!”

Clark took a deep breath and clapped Tim on the back.

“Good job,” he said. “All of you.”

“A good job indeed!” said the Cleric Interviewer, because this night just couldn’t end.