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2025-08-09
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2025-08-29
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2/?
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Deliverer's Ambitions

Summary:

Phainon had finally managed to confront the entity that has been mocking him and using him, however after facing utter defeat and awating death, it doesn't happen.

He awakens in a city unfamiliar to him, in a world unknown to him. He struggles in finding where he stands, with no knowledge, he must work to live with what he has.

On the other hand, Red Hood has found a white haired teenager on multiple occasions in diffrent dangerous situations and is dead set on finding the kid and forcing him to stop. The batfamily miscomunicates, or doesn't communicate at all, and things spiral.

Notes:

I'm writing this fanfiction with the intent on focusing on the Batfamily, and their lore, more so than Honkai stair rail lore so it won't always be hsr complient, but i'm trying to follow cannon as much as possible. For any Batman fan's who aren't involved in hsr plot, I'm keeping it to a minimum, but a few things need to be kept for relevance sake. I will try and explain characters or scenes from hsr in the chapters so that no prior knowledge of it is needed. this ficis heavily meant to be simple crossover because i like the aspect of Phainon's character and i think he would do well in the dc universe.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Death is Not The End

Notes:

I'm writing this fanfiction with the intent on focusing on the Batfamily, and their lore, more so than Honkai stair rail lore so it won't always be hsr complient, but i'm trying to follow cannon as much as possible. For any Batman fan's who aren't involved in hsr plot, I'm keeping it to a minimum, but a few things need to be kept for relevance sake. I will try and explain characters or scenes from hsr in the chapters so that no prior knowledge of it is needed. this ficis heavily meant to be simple crossover because i like the aspect of Phainon's character and i think he would do well in the dc universe.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dark.

 

It was dark, all around. The starlit sky wasn’t glistening now. It was simply dark.

 

It would’ve been peaceful, had it not been a stellar painted sky he saw moments ago, and a figure bathed in golden blood who tore open the heavens to scoff down at him.

 

He failed, hadn’t he? Another loop to begin, to repeat, to fail.

 

How many times has it been now..? Wasn’t it time to end now? When will it end? How much longer will he be the chess piece to a much bigger cosmic chessboard? How much longer.

 

The weight in his skull pressed down like waking from a concussion. Pain throbbed behind his eyes. And yet, his memories stayed intact. They should be gone by now. Usually, this was when the meaning faded, when the memories dissolved into nothing.

 

Why was everything so quiet now? Why did he remember everything? How?

 

Now, he felt a form, a shape, he could feel. His body, the air, the cold. He could feel the hard concrete below him. The air brushed against his skin. His own body felt real, heavy.

 

His eyes shot open at the revelation. He lives? He didn’t die fighting Nanook?

 

It was dark, but bright enough to make his head sting a little as his eyes adjusted. He was looking up…

 

He was situated on the ground. Under a bright sky, defiled of the blue, littered with a depressing grey. The clouds above threatened to pour down on him. This is how he is greeted again by earth.

 

His scent finally picked up on a stench that clogged his airways. Was Amphoreus always this thin of air?

 

Was Amphoreus always this empty, this foul? He told himself yes, because the other option was worse.

 

He was feeling more things now… his senses were registering his surroundings, he was responsive.

 

He was no longer on the scalding battle grounds that Amphoreus became, to no one’s hands but his own. The ground wasn’t scorched, it was cold, and might he add, not the most comfortable place to wake up on.

 

It took several more minutes of adjusting, meditating and registering all of his senses.

 

The sky and stench were noted, but everything else was left blank.

 

His arms pushed against the ground, elbow’s digging into the concrete as he raised his upper body onto his forearm’s.

 

He was slightly dizzy, His head hurt and his muscles ached with the phantom pain of what felt like being torn apart.

 

His eyes took in the disappointing lack of colour.

 

Buildings loomed tall and square, stretching into the skyline. Pillars and statues adorned them—details he might have admired if the situation were different. The rooftop beneath him groaned faintly under his weight, its surface cracked and tired.

 

Slow and steady. Falling through wasn’t on the agenda.

 

He sat up first, nausea curling in his stomach. Then, shakily, he got to his feet. His body was disoriented but intact. He blinked furiously, and his hand extended in an attempt to balance himself.

 

The city around him was anything but familiar.

 

Was this one of the places his trailblazing friend had mentioned? A world beyond the sky?

 

He needed information. And it was sparking the last flame of sanity in his body.

 

Looking around now was no longer straining his neck and simmering headache.

 

He was in a giant city, it stretched as far as he could see, but the sight of a river calmed his nerves. Vegetation was sparse. It was likely one of the reasons for the putrid smell of this city, it smelt like death, piss and everything bad.

 

Looking down, he was dressed in the ragged remains of his clothing, was there a single good thing happening? He wanted one positive to keep himself from launching into the river and not return.

 

Looking down at himself, his clothes were reduced to mere dirty rags.
Information. Clothes. Shelter. In that order.

 

A few steps proved to not endanger his immediate safety, even though he doubted that some rubble could do him much damage anyway, but he didn’t want to push the limit right now.
Scanning over the rooftop for anything useful proved successful. A ladder, it was a rusty old thing, and he seriously doubted its durability.

 

Good thing it actually didn’t fold under his weight. He could descend onto the floor without trouble.

 

Now he was down, and one look at the graffiti on the brick walls made his head hurt. Were these words or symbols?

 

A quick scan of the dark alley, and one torn up tabloid on the ground later, proved that he did not know this language, and he was 83% sure that it was gibberish symbols.
That would make gathering information harder.

 

His attention was to focus on another goal, getting some clothes.

 

He was already dreading these torn up rags. The cold wind was like a knife cutting through the pieces that were his clothes. He was semi resistant to the elements, so he could only guess that it was pretty cold. He shivered, it wasn’t comforting, the hairs on his arms and legs stood upright, despite his resistance.

 

His ears perked up at the sound he was hearing now, footsteps, three of them.

 

They echoed through the alley, slow and deliberate, until three men stepped into view. One carried a gun, it was encases in slick black metal and squared like the buildings around them. It reminded him of the cherished weapon his professor carried around.

 

They spoke in that strange language, heavy with s’s, soft e’s, and strange pronunciations that twisted on his tongue when he tried to imagine saying them.

 

“Look at this pretty boy,” one of them drawled to the man beside him.

 

He didn’t understand the meaning, but the slur of the words and the tone made him aware that it wasn't anything good.

 

The taller one, belly pushing against his coat, chuckled.

 

“He’s a real gem. We could play around with ‘im… And look — clueless as a lamb. Doesn’t understand a damn thing we’re saying. Look at his face.”

 

Their laughter was low and unpleasant, it made his face grimace, brows furrowing and his lips tightened together.

 

The third man was bolder, he stepped closer, with a grin carved into his face.

 

“Look ‘ere, pretty boy… We’re gonna put those good looks to use.”

 

His hand shot out, grabbing the torn edge of his shirt and ripping it wider. Fabric gave way with an ugly sound. His eyes widened in shock, the situation was dawning on him, and to say that he was uncomfortable was an underestimation.

 

Every muscle in his back tightened. The air pressed against his skin.

 

Then the tall one’s fingers wrapped around his arm — warm, damp, unshakable.

 

Too close. Too loud. Too much.

 

One of the men whistled, he wasn't paying enough attention in his shock to tell which one.

 

“Look at that body,” the bold one of them muttered near his ear, breath thick with alcohol. His skin crawled at the waft of air heavily smelling of alcohol now tickling his ear. His body felt heavy at the tone of his voice, which was suggestive and unpleasant. “Some folks are really blessed. Don’t ya' think?”

 

He didn’t understand the words, but the tone was enough. Instinct took over.

 

He spun, wrenching his arm free and shoving the bigger man off-balance. His hand clamped onto the wrist of the man holding the gun, thumb pressing hard into the tendon until the man hissed in pain and his grip faltered.

 

That was enough. He ran.

Notes:

Summary of what happened in the chapter:

Nanook: Ur lowkey annoying i'm banishing u

Phainon: *wakes up in Gotham* Damn wtf happened I wanna go home i don't understand anything

Creepy men: Come kiss me on my hot mouth, i'm feeling romantical

Phainon: tf are they saying?? im gonna dip, bye guys

Anyway, i'm going to try and uphold a semi consistent updating schedule, but dont hold me at gun point if i don't, im an A-tier procrastinator, all, if any readers are appreciated and I will hold u close to my heart, much love i'll try harder in future chapters. ALSO all words written in bold are words Phainon doesn't understand

Chapter 2

Summary:

Phainon finally gets some clothes. :D

Maybe not in the most.. Ethical way. :(

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Gotham Harbour. 

 

It consistently reeked of criminal activity that no amount of cleaning seemed to be able to cleanse. 

 

The cranes overhead groaned, rust flakes falling like polluted snowflakes. Nothing here was worth cleansing. 

 

Shady drug dealers were everywhere. Arms deals, unbeknownst to anyone other than the dealers, happen by the hour. This is the place where the victims of kidnappings truly disappeared. 

 

It was the perfect place to be smuggling things to and from Gotham, and in their case, it was smuggling to Gotham. 

 

Things were running smoothly... Even if anyone interrupted the smuggling of their kidnapee's, the front of this being just a badly performed human trafficking case was perfect. 

 

Even the bats and birds wouldn't be able to track this down to the right roots. 

 

The leader made sure to cover all our tracks perfectly.
 


 The ship carried many steel containers, stamped with labels of store goods. Nothing seemed amiss. 

 

Unbeknownst to the naked eye, two of the steel boxes were hiding the vessels of their operation, teenagers, in the prime stage of their lives, to take the blessings of destruction.


 
The leader made sure to provide Intel on how to find these children easily and bring them to Gotham. 

 

There were many rats like them, little pawns that had a fifty-fifty chance at being their perfect subject or another failed lab rat. 

 

The sound of Gotham Harbor's busy bees, metal groaning and the lapping of waves along the grimy covered concrete was loud and persistent, like a nagging in his ears. He almost missed the call of one of the dogs in a uniform that was hired to deal with the labor of their smuggling operation.

 

"Boss! All done 'ere!"

 

The man yelled with that thick Gothamite accent that a true blood born in Gotham could never escape. 

 

He had tied the boat down to the large steel bolts that were screwed onto the docks. 

 

Nodding at him from above, 'boss' started walking to the aft of the ship. His boots clanked against the steel flooring of the rundown ship. His walk lacked confidence. 

 

The underdogs of Gotham, who willingly accepted any boring labour job for a good buck, were already unloading the steel boxes onto a waiting truck. 

 

The truck in question was plastered with a cheap store logo that was as disposable as these lowlife goons. At least they were doing the little work that painted a bigger image. 

 

 

Phainon hated running from creeps. 

 

Never before was it something to worry about, but now it seems like he'll be running into men like them more often. 

 

Perhaps waking up in an unknown place with no knowledge whatsoever might've been fun if it also didn't include creeps and having to run from them in the mazes that made up the alleyways. 

 

But there was something to gain from this, and that was, don't allow anyone to get close. 

 

His footsteps echoed on the walls, almost silenced by everything else that was overwhelming his senses.

 

The adrenaline was starting to wear off; for better or for worse, he could finally focus now. 

 

As quickly as he could process things, he was currently feeling incredibly slow on the uptake. 

 

His surroundings consisted of large metal crates, with labels of things he couldn't recognize. The rust building up on the boxes was proof of their poor maintenance. 

 

Focusing a bit more on everything around him, he could recognize the sounds of waves hitting something solid. 

 

He stuck to looking around, observing his surroundings and trying to find anything that might be useful. 

 

The air he breathed was humid, thicker than before. 

 

The ground was soaking in puddles and wet grime. Being barefoot, with his soles on the brink of tearing from his torn boots, made it very unpleasant to walk on. 

 

Upon further observation, there were people here, plenty of them. Most were men who went around checking the contents of the crates, and the others were men who worked with the heavy-duty machinery. 

 

He doubted that anyone would take kindly to someone like him after experiencing his not-so-pleasant first interaction with this city's residents. He figured that keeping out of sight was the way to go. 

 

If he wanted to find any items of value, like clothes, he figured that checking some of the crates might benefit him. But, he didn't want to stick his nose in things that put him in dangerous situations, not right now. 

 

The only time he would intervene is if he came across people in need. And so far, he hasn't seen, heard or smelled anything coming from the crates. 

 

From some, he could smell gunpowder from some of the steel crates; those were likely arms deals in the work. No wonder regular folk, like the men who harassed him, had their fingers on things like this. 

 

Those crates didn't mean much to him now, and he's already extending his sense of smell to its limit. The stench of constant blood and rot was mixing in with everything else. It was difficult to make sense of anything right now. 

 

Every once in a while, he has to hide from people walking along the docks. He didn't want to risk being seen, he didn't know what that would warrant. And he wasn't risking another enactment of his previous situation. 

 

He climbed upon a few staked crates, keeping his body low and level with the metal. 

 

Now he had a higher vantage point. From here, he could see various ships, large cargo ships, and smaller ones, which held much less cargo. 

 

Moving along the top of the crates was simple; he could easily mask his footsteps by taking advantage of all the other noises. 

 

He was standing on a tall stack of crates when he spotted another metal box-like machine currently being loaded. It had labels plastered along its side, with pictures of fruit and store goods. 

 

Well.. Damn him for wanting to check it out. 

 

He wanted to get at least close enough to see if he could smell the scent of fruit or anything useful. 

 

He jumped down from his spot and rolled to negate any damage his fall might bring. 

 

Slowly, he crept closer and avoided being spotted by the people who were loading the steel machine. 

 

Its engine roared in his ears. What an unpleasant noise. 

 

One man wasn't doing anything, simply watching, and he could only guess that he was the overseer. 

 

He closed his eyes and focused on his sense of smell. 

 

He could smell... The polluted air... The oil in the water... The fresh and subtle scent of imported fruit... And the strong metallic smell of blood. 

 

He deduced that most of the containers were legit. But some of the boxes weren't. Either they were transporting blood, which was unlikely, or there were possibly hurt or dead people in those containers. 

 

He didn't want to risk either. 

 

His brain immediately compartmentalized until he was only in this moment. 

 

As soon as he'd contoured up his plan, it was time to get to work. He sneaked into the blind spots of the driver and the overseer to set his sights on an unassuming man. 

 

He had the shortest opening, where nobody was paying attention to the inside of the steel machine, and that's when he jumped in. 

 

He used the darkness of the insides of the vehicle to his advantage and waited until one of the unsuspecting workers walked in and put the box down.

 

That's when he pounced. One hand around the man's mouth, the other hand jabbing his fingers into the pressure point between his neck and shoulder. 

 

He dragged him quietly to the back of the machine and set him down. He pulled him back behind the front of the boxes to quickly steal the man's attire and jumble it onto his body. 

 

Good thing the man had his face mostly concealed, and his build was similar to Phainon's. 

 

He climbed up from behind the crates to run out to grab more boxes. 

 

He couldn't afford to show his face, so he kept his head down. 

 

The boss noticed his late arrival and yelled at him.

 

"The hell were you doing in there? Don't waste more time than necessary and get back to work!"

 

The man was barking angry words at him and flailing his arms a little. He didn't need to understand this language to know what he was mad about. 

 

He walked forward to grab a box, and by now, he'd deduced that the boxes with people in them were two boxes. 

 

One box was already loaded, and one was waiting to be loaded. 

 

The best course of action, as he decided, would be to keep both of the boxes outside of the machine, free the people if they were still alive, and let the rest of the boxes be driven to their respective spots, of course, along with the goons he's going to need to take down. 

 

He carried the box over to the vehicle and set it down, like the other boxes were already set. 

 

One of the men was reaching for the box he knew had a person in it, so in a quick change of mission, he ran towards him and knocked him in the back of his head with his elbow. 

 

The man immediately fell forward, dropping the box and slumping headfirst into the rest of the load. 

 

The boss was immediately alarmed and started barking more orders. Goons were running at him now, with angry looks and pocket knives. 

 

The boss didn't act; he likely couldn't leave without the box that still had one victim inside. Instead, he was standing by the sidelines and staring him down, gritting his teeth angrily. 

 

The men charged at him, trying to cut him down and singing curses whenever he expertly countered their movements. 

 

He didn't want to exactly hurt these people, at least not fatally. 

 

He heard a faint grunt in his ear as a man charged towards him with a pocket knife. She stepped to the side and grabbed his wrist with his left hand and his shoulder with his right, and put pressure on it. He dislocated the man's shoulder. 

 

The number of the goons was dwindling, and the boss man was sweating. 

 

By the time Phainon finally drew his eyes back to the man, he had a gun in his hand, aimed directly at him. 

 

A loud shot rang out. 

 

It grazed his bicep, just barely. 

 

Golden blood seeped from his wound slowly and stained his clothes. It wasn't bleeding badly, but he didn't want to leave evidence of his existence here. 

 

He didn't have time to think about his next move when the boss man shot again. This time, the shot went flying by his face. 

 

Change of direction, he needed to take him down, now. 

 

His legs pushed him to run for cover. He jumped over the boxes that he knew weren't containing the person and hid behind them momentarily.

 

Then he kicked with full force at a box filled with fruit and sent it flying towards the man. 

 

He started shooting wildly, which gave Phainon just enough of an opening to reach him. 

 

His fingers grasped the man's wrist and squeezed. 

 

A scream erupted from the boss man's mouth, and he dropped the gun. 

 

He managed to break the man's wrist before jabbing at his temple with his elbow and knocking him out. 

 

He turned back to the men, who shook their heads before taking off running. 

 

He contemplated running after them,but he had bigger troubles. 

 

He needed to aid the victims and then get rid of the evidence of his having done anything here. 

 

He quickly jumped back into the truck and reached for the box that still had one victim inside. He brought it outside, onto the solid concrete. Before going back to pick up the other victim from the ship. 

 

His fingers gripped tightly at the constraints of the metal before tearing at them. He grunted as he managed to tear apart the lock on one container. 

 

He breathed steadily and opened the lid slowly. 

 

He wasn't going to lie and say he wasn't scared of what he would find. 

 

He was beyond relieved when he saw a teenage boy, breathing, alive and well. 

 

The boy was forced into the box unconscious, and his limbs were stuck in uncomfortable angles. The boy had nothing more than a few bruises and shallow cuts, likely from resistance, before being kidnapped. 

 

He carefully plucked the boy from his box and set him down on the concrete. 

 

Then he set his sights on the second box. He hoped that the person inside was doing just as well as the boy.. If not better. 

 

He tore open the lock and carefully slid the top open. 

 

This one was a young girl, younger than the boy who he just set down. She was in a similar condition to the boy, with cuts and bruises, but nothing dire. 

 

He picked her up carefully and set her down next to the other victim. 

 

Now.. What was he going to do about the truck or the boxes of edible goods? 

 

He didn't have time to think. He rushed to the back doors of the vehicle and slammed them shut. 

 

He hoped it would be confirmation to the driver that he could start moving. 

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when the engine roared louder, and the vehicle began moving. 

 

The ship still had boxes of goods that weren't loaded, but that wasn't his problem right now. 

 

His problem was the two kids currently unconscious. He didn't know how to get them to safety. 

 

He moved closer to both of the victims and mentally contemplated his next moves. He needed to move them. If anyone were to arrive, he needed them somewhere safe. 

 

He picked up the teenage boy first, draping the boy over his shoulder, before picking up the slightly younger girl. 

 

He walked steadily to a more hidden spot before setting them down again. He wondered if he could wake them. Maybe then he could help them better. 

 

Slowly, his heart rate was slowing down to normal, and his brain was opening back up to the bigger picture. 

 

His wound. 

 

It stung slightly, he could feel the warmth of his blood and his erratic pulse. 

 

He remembered, he needed to treat his wound. 

 

He looked down at his arm and sighed. 

 

He still had his torn rags under the clothes he stole from the man; at least those would do him some good. 

 

He reached under his shirt and tore up the remaining fabric to use it as some sort of bandage. It would provide pressure to his wound, to stop the bleeding, and it would at least keep any more grime from it. Hopefully. 

 

He slowly wrapped it around his wound, like he practiced and knew, using his teeth as a replacement for the hand he couldn't use. 

 

After a while of fiddling, he finally managed to somewhat tie the wound on his bicep. Good. 

 

Now he could put all of his attention on the victims. He needed to wake them first. 

 

Perhaps it'd be better to wake up the boy first? 

 

He kneeled beside the small sleeping body and gently slapped his cheek, seeing no response. He sighed loudly. 

 

He inched towards the girl and tried the same with her. No response either. 

 

That meant he had to wait until they woke up naturally. 

 

Hopefully that wouldn't take long. 

 

He slumped against the steel crates and looked out from their hiding position to be sure of their safety. 

 

Nobody was coming this way, so they were fine for now. 

 

That was a stressful enough situation. It was nothing compared to the amount of time he's spent in the loops.. And the scenarios, the pain of watching his comrades, his friends, die. 

 

No, he couldn't think about that. He needed to focus on the present, on what was in front of him now. 

 

He decided it would be best to retreat into a state of alert meditation. He could do so sitting down and focus completely on his senses to be mindful of their safety and to relax. Or at least as much as he could right now. 

 

Just to be sure, he scanned his surroundings again. It was getting late, and dark gloom was already encasing the city like a dark blanket. No stars littered the sky. It was depressing, almost. 

 

He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. 

 

He peeled his ears and nose to pick up any smells or noise. 

 

The calm and repetitive sound of waves hitting the concrete walls of the docks, the scent of metal and oil wafting through the air, the noise of shuffling near him-

 

Shuffling. 

 

His eyes shot open, and his head turned at breakneck speed towards the boy beside him. 

 

The boy flinched, his eyes wide as a hawk as he stared him down. His breathing was erratic. 

 

Phainon knew that in the eyes of the victims, an unfamiliar face like his could not be comforting. So he very slowly, with an extended hand as if he was trying to quell the fear of a wild animal, got up to kneel in front of the boy. 

 

Then he opened his mouth to speak. 

 

"Ε, δεν πειράζει."
“(Hey, it's okay.)“ 

 

The kid furrowed his brows and stared at him strangely. But he didn't seem to try and run away, so he reached closer, and the kid got more defensive. 

 

"Don't! Don't get any closer!"

 

The boy shouted at him. He couldn't understand. The boy scooted further away before he bumped into the girl beside him. He jumped, startled by the body beside him. Then he looked back at Phainon

 

"The hell is this? Where am I? Where did you take me?"

 

Phainon couldn't answer him. He didn't even know what the boy was saying, but he doubted he could give him much information if he did understand the language. 

 

Instead of trying to speak anymore, Phainon resorted to using body gestures and hand signs. He pointed at the boy and girl, and then at the container closest to him, then at the floor. 

 

The boy looked puzzled, his eyes narrowed.

 

"I was.. We were taken here? By who? Why? What did you do to me? I mean.. To us."

 

Again, nothing he could understand. Nothing he could help with. He sighed loudly. He pointed to his mouth and then shook his head. 

 

The boy narrowed his eyes more. 

 

"You can't speak..? Huh? But you spoke literally 30 seconds ago."

 

The small boy's expression is a bit more dumbfounded now. 

 

The boy looked alarmed, but not as much as he did earlier. He's loosened up, at least he didn't look like he'll dart now. Hopefully, the boy has deduced that Phainon was not his kidnapper and the girls' kidnapper. 

 

"Wait... Do you not speak English?"

 

He could recognize the question in the boy's tone, but now his tone also had a hint of disbelief in it. He looked dumbfounded. The boy slowly started standing up. And so did Phainon. 

 

He quickly checked over his shoulder; their hiding space wasn't far away from the ship and vehicle from earlier. The vehicle was gone now. Only the abandoned boxes were left. 

 

Strangely, now there was a red helmeted man, which an intimidating stature, standing there. He was looking over the boxes and looked mildly upset at the two empty boxes, which clearly had no fruits inside, and instead had a few drops of smudged blood, as Phainon remembered. 

 

Not good. He couldn't risk it if the man was the one who was holding the operations of the kidnapped children. But what he wasn't expecting was for the boy's head to peak out, just like his own did. The boy's face lit up in relief for some reason, and he bolted towards the man. 

 

"Περιμένετε!"
"(Wait!)"

 

He whispered, yelled after the boy, but the boy gave himself away further when he yelled something out.

 

"Red Hood!"

 

The little boy ran with a smile towards the alarmingly well-built and threatening man. He could see the man's red helm situation directly onto him. And Phainon certainly hated that. 

 

Red helmet didn't look away even as the boy crashed into his abdomen and hugged him. His sights were dead set on Phainon. He couldn't run away if he wanted to, not with seeing the many guns on the man's person. 

 

He could faintly hear their conversation, but it didn't help that he didn't understand it. 

 

So instead, he retreated behind the containers. Back with the girl. He could hear the man slowly walking over, with a pair of light footsteps behind him, from the little boy. 

 

Phainon acted and climbed on top of the containers. No time like the present. He took the opportunity and bolted. But this time he didn't have to hide. With clothes and a good cover, nobody would look at him too strangely. He bolted towards the streets. 

 

This city surely had it laid out for him. For the second time in the day, he was running away from someone. 

 

 

(I drew this so that people can know what he's wearing and what he looks like, and i couldn't figure out how to put an image so yeah)

Notes:

Summary of what happened:

Phainon: ugh, oh my god this place is so weird, creeps every where.

Suspicious guy: me and my organization is trafficking kids for reasons that will be explained in later chapters! Muahaha we're so evil.

Suspicious guys goons: I need to fight this weird white haired guy cause he's trying to steal fruits

Phainon: wtf is going on?! I need to save em kids

*saves kids*

Phainon: Yoohoo, I saved kids!

Kid: u have skill issues, imagine not understanding english

Red hood: *menacing breathing in the distance*

Kid: omg it's little red riding hood! I'm saved!

Phainon: okay helmet man, the kids urs I'm gonna run, AGAIN

 

I am so so so so sorry for the late update, I already said I was a major procrastinator and the start of this chapter was so hard to write, but I hope it was worth the wait 😭 I'm really unsure about how I pace things, hopefully I'm not doing anything too fast or too slow. Also I struggled so much to stay on theme omg, I started writing freely each time I fell into my words, so I just have to hope it's readable 😭 🙏 ALSO I changed the english that Phainon doesn't understand to BOLD not italic, same thing for the first chapter.

Anyway, thank you guys for reading, I'm so grateful for all the supportive comments and thank u to everyone who left kudos! ❤

I hope the next chapter will be out sooner, love u guys ❤

Notes:

Summary of what happened in the chapter:

Nanook: Ur lowkey annoying i'm banishing u

Phainon: *wakes up in Gotham* Damn wtf happened I wanna go home i don't understand anything

Creepy men: Come kiss me on my hot mouth, i'm feeling romantical

Phainon: tf are they saying?? im gonna dip, bye guys

Anyway, i'm going to try and uphold a semi consistent updating schedule, but dont hold me at gun point if i don't, im an A-tier procrastinator, all, if any readers are appreciated and I will hold u close to my heart, much love i'll try harder in future chapters. Also for clarification, text with quotation marks in italics is all the words and sentences he doesn't understand.