Chapter Text
Bruce’s chair sat empty at the head of the table. The chair had been vacant for several days, which Damian paid no mind to as he ate his breakfast. The only sounds that rang in the room were the clinking of utensils and dishes as Alfred worked. Damian didn’t dare enter the kitchen, for the sounds inside were an octave higher than usual for it to be comforting.
Dick entered the smaller but more homie dining room with a skip in his step. With a stretch, he slumped into the chair next to Damian’s right.
“Morning, Dami,” Dick said as he grabbed a bowl of cereal and a slice of toast.
“Richard.”
Alfred the Cat hopped onto Dick’s lap and started to purr as he scratched the cat’s ear. Dick looked around the room before he noticed the empty head chair, “Is B in his office?”
Damian shook his head, “He’s been absent from meals since Wednesday.”
Dick then noticed the clinking coming from the kitchen and winced, “I take it he’s in the Batcave?”
“Last I checked, yes,” Damian said. “He hasn’t left and is quickly growing a beard.” Dick then spat out a laugh, slightly choking on his toast before forcing it down.
“Oh god! That explains a lot,” Dick forced out while rubbing his throat. “What’s got B going full Batman mode?”
Damian shot Dick a look while he cut a pancake, “Tt, the new vigilante group, what else?”
Dick nodded, “Ah, wait— he hasn’t found a lead on the Shadow Teens yet?” Damian rolled his eyes.
“I don’t remember asking to be interrogated, Richard.” Dick raised his hands in surrender.
“Just seeking the news, Baby Bat. Scout’s Honor.”
“Tt, you were never a scout.”
“Okay then, Bat’s Honor!” Alfred the cat left Dick’s lap and trotted down one of the halls.
“Okay, last question,” Dick began. “Did you read any of the new reports about the group?” Damian glared at his plate as he scoffed.
“Father has been hoarding them like a dragon does with gold, so no.” Dick winched again as he slumped deep in his chair. But, a smirk made its home on his face like red paint on a blue canvas.
“Okay, last- last question,” Damian huffed out a groan, though it sounded more like a growl due to his mouth being full of food.
“Do you want to help me sneak into the cave and take a peek at the reports?”
Dick’s question caused Damian to pause. He sat quietly, sipping his black tea before facing his brother, eyes sharp, while saying, “We leave at nine.”
ooo
The reports of a new vigilante group began popping up about a week ago. Small and big-time rouges, creeps, and traffickers were decimated. Bystanders and interrogations revealed they fell like a wave hitting a toddler on the beach. The group used blasters and other gadgets never before seen. However, the group themselves used the shadows to hide their identities.
Videos and photos were ineffective, and CCTV footage was no better. But, two consistent clues were present: There were five vigilantes, and all of them were no older than teenagers. At least one or two of them were Metas, but that was a theory more than a fact. Thus, the group was given the name “Shadow Teens” by the media.
Bruce had been gaining more gray hairs by the hour. Reports were piling up about the group and their escapades, and he wondered if most of it was a joke.
They were able to take down a Riddler Game Show before it happened, stop six murder attempts, find a Man-Bat Serum shipment, then fought three Men-Bats and won. Then they punched a Gotham Elite for embezzling from a nature reserve, stopped the Scarecrow from releasing Fear Toxins into the city, and beat him in combat, all while telling him that his Fear Toxins were weaker than “Frightys”; then one of them drank it right in front of him, smashed the casing on the ground before screeching like a pelican, all that and more within a single day. Every day for the past week was like that!
Bruce sat hunched over at the Bat Computer, typing away when Alfred entered. He looked at the state of the Batcave. The floor was covered wall to wall in notes. Piles of coffee cups, cans of seltzer, and tea were within arm’s reach of the Wayne.
“Master Bruce, I advise you to leave the cave and walk in the garden.”
“Hm.”
“I will not take that as an answer, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he approached the littered desk.
Bruce let out an ever-suffering sigh, “Not now, Alfred. I need to find these teenagers before they get themselves killed.” Alfred shook his head.
“I believe their whereabouts will be revealed in due time. But not if you sit at your computer reviewing notes repeatedly.”
“I don’t need a break. I can handle a little research. Kids' lives are at stake here.” He then began to mutter, “They were last seen near a Bat Burger in Old Gotham around ten this morning fighting a local gang, so maybe—,”
Alfred did his equivalent of an eye-roll before turning off the Batcomputer with a single button press. Bruce sat there like a fish before slowly turning his head to Alfred.
“Now, Master Wayne,” Alfred said. Bruce closed his mouth with a clank. “Take a walk in the garden while I prepare lunch.”
Bruce got up and left the cave like a bat out of Hell while Alfred followed behind, leaving the cave empty before two figures emerged from the shadows.
ooo
“Phew—, I thought he would never leave,” Dick said, putting his phone back into his pocket.
Damian tisked but quietly agreed with Dick’s comment. They approached the Batcomputer, hopping and dodging notes like a game of hopscotch before turning it back on. Dick began to whistle a little ditty as he raked through a pile of reports. Damian started to surf through the millions of tabs Bruce had left behind when Dick chuckled.
“What’s so humorous?” Damian asked, not turning away from the screen.
“No wonder B is aging like a fly,” he replied. “These reports are ridiculous, like look— ‘A group of shadow-like teenagers punts a visiting Lex Luther for ‘all his war crimes’ and recent kidnapping attempt.’ God, I heard about that from Tim, but man, what I wouldn’t have given to be in Tim’s place just to see that fight.”
Damian side-eyed Dick at his antics as he continued typing away.
“Oh, this one’s new!” Dick said. “‘Hostage report: ‘A mysterious teen emerged from the shadows and head-butted Two-Face while the man was monologuing to us about death like usual. The man collapsed and didn’t get up. Another teen appeared and left a therapy book next to him. I think he either fucking died or got brain damage!’ These reports are sending me—!” Dick fell into a laughing fit, but Damian clicked on a tab that caused him to pause. Damian squinted at the screen before turning to Dick.
“Richard, have we seen this model of laser somewhere before?”
Dick flicked his attention to his brother and then to the screen where a video was playing. Though grainy, the silhouette of a handheld laser, no bigger than one of Steph’s lipsticks, was visible. A neon green light shot from the weapon in a single line, blinding its targets as the wielder waved about in a flailing motion.
There was no sound, but with the chaotic motions, the color of the laser, and its size, Dick couldn’t help but agree with Damian.
“Well, that’s going to bug me all day,” Dick added. “Maybe for the next week.” Damian glared at the screen with a hum before the sounds of the elevator echoed through the cave. Duke emerged from the metal doors but stopped from entering further.
“Wow, what rabbit hole did Tim fall into?”
“Oh, this wasn’t Tim,” Dick said.
“Ah, Bruce?”
“Bruce.”
Duke clicked the roof of his mouth, “Figures.” He floated over the notes and approached the Batcomputer. He picked up a stack of reports separate from Dick’s and couldn’t help but struggle to hold back a laugh.
“Yeah— yeah. These guys would drive Bruce up a wall,” Duke said. “I haven’t run into them yet, but boy, I want to.”
“Tim got fucking lucky.”
“Lucky and is probably the chosen one.”
“Thomas, does this device seem familiar to you?” Damian asked.
Duke turned to the screen and watched the video. He shook his head, “Not really.”
Damian slumped in his chair with a scowl. His eyes started to twitch the longer he stared at the screen. He eventually changed the video to another where the teenagers held oversized blasters, stunning each target with point-blank range. No shots missed.
But the feeling of familiarity never left Damian, and it only made his eye twitch worse. He grumbled as his glare grew sharper than a blade. Duke whistled in awe at the skill present. Dick glared at the screen too, “This is going to haunt me all day.”
“Huh?”
“Dami and I think we’ve seen those weapons before,” Dick said. “But I can’t pinpoint why!”
Duke patted Dick on the shoulder with a nod. Damian rolled his eyes as he switched to looking at photos. They were grainy, like the videos, but the group made due. Dark silhouettes of the teens fighting and flying about gave Damian a headache.
“Yawn~ where’s B?”
Duke and Dick turned and yelped while Damian threw a shuriken in the direction of the voice. Tim dodged it with ease from his sleeping bag on the floor. Said sleeping bag- was completely buried in notes and reports to the point it was the cubicle equivalent of government official camouflage.
“Ah! It’s the chosen one!”
“Fuck off!”
“Holy shit, Tim! You're involved in this mess?”
“Duh—,” Tim said, rubbing his eyes. “Where’d B go?”
“Tt, Alfred evicted him from the cave,” Damian replied.
“And told him to go touch grass,” Dick said with a smile.
Duke looked at Dick with wide eyes, “And I missed it? Gaaaaa!!!”
Tim sat frozen, “You took a video, right?” Dick’s smile stretched into a toothy smirk that could scare a god as he pulled out his phone and lightly waved it.
“Send that to the group chat immediately!” Duke said.
“Doing that now.”
Tim let out an evil cackle, “The blackmail folder shall eat well this day.”
“Can we let Father keep some of his dignity?”
“No.”
“Oh no, never.”
“Someone needs to keep the Dark Knight on his toes.”
Damian huffed and drummed his fingers on the desk. His mind went back to the laser. The answer sat at the top of his tongue. So, he left the cave to wander the manor to stew in his thoughts.
ooo
Wondering the manor did nothing to solve his plight. So when patrol rolled around, Damian’s mood was down and bitter, like when he watched Marley and Me. Watching the sequel immediately after did not lift his mood like Dick thought it would.
Dick seemed to be in a similar boat, clearly not coming any closer to an answer either. However, he was better at hiding it when the Batclan gathered before riding across Gotham.
While hopping from rooftop to rooftop in Old Gotham, Damian continued to think when he heard the sounds of repeated gunfire. He changed trajectory towards an alleyway behind a Bat Burger and looked down.
No one was there. But the hairs on Damian’s neck stood on end. Damian turned around and unsheathed his katana in one single motion, blocking his assailant from approaching further.
“Wow there, little birdie,” said a voice dipped in venom and honey. “No need to ruffle your feathers.”
Three goons stood before him wearing Joker Masks. Their dark, empty eyes stared deep into Damian’s, making his skin crawl.
“Tt, and what are you and your ignoramus of a boss plotting?” He gave them a glare that could start a fire as the same voice from the middle goon rang on.
“Oh, nothing the Big Bad Bat needs to worry about. But our boss has been looking for a new toy to play with before the party begins.” The goons pulled out electric sticks and dart guns and began rapid fire. Damian dodged and slashed with each attack. He dashed and dove about the rooftop. The goons would yell in frustration with each missed hit. Before Damian’s eyes, more goons appeared, seemingly multiplying like a cell pulling a mitosis. He gritted his teeth but trudged on, knocking out goons who got too close with the hilt of his blade.
“Robin, what’s your current status?” Oracle asked through his commlink but was slowly being overwhelmed with static. “Your movements are chaotic.”
Damian tried to reach for his commlink, but goons would take a gamble and grab for him. But Damian dodged and bared his teeth with a growl at every attempt. However, the Joker’s Masked Goons were emerging from the shadows like zombies, carrying more elaborate weapons with a more murderous intent.
“Robin, do you copy?” Oracle continued to call out. “Your mask cam is all static!”
Damian dove off the roof towards the alleyway, but more goons filled the space. He didn’t falter but used the goon’s heads as platforms to jump off from. He hopped from head to head, smirking at each yelp of pain.
“Baby Bat, what’s going on?” Nightwing called through the commlink. “What’s happening over there? ”
He stayed clear of the streets, only using Gotham’s maze-like allies to try and evade the gaggle of goons. But, when Damian thought he lost them, ten more goons would appear. However, he was able to reach for his commlink.
“This is Robin,” he began. “The Joker's Men are on my tail.” He dodged another set of goons. “There are a lot of them, rather persistent and armed.”
“Are you or anyone else injured?” His father asked in his Batman tone as the static grew in intensity.
“Negative on both fronts. I am alone.”
“B, I see the Joker’s horde,” Red Hood’s voice rang through.
“You’re not fighting them, Red Hood. Stay away from the Joker.” Batman said.
“I don’t see the Joker, old man. Just a horde of Joker Worshippers chasing the Demon Brat like zombies.”
“Hn.”
“I don’t need assistance. I’m completely capable of losing them.” Damian dove passed a set of goons, doing a barrel roll.
“Likely story, kid. I’ve seen the League of Assassins’s army, which looks smaller than the crowd you’ve gathered here tonight, which is a feat— congratulations.” Damian’s eye twitched in annoyance.
“I see them too!” Spoiler said. “Holy— did you find the Nest or something!”
“What the fu—,”
“Where did these guys even come from?”
“Tt, they approached me first. They said that the Joker was searching for a ‘new toy to play with before the party.’” Damian’s words sobered the commlink quickly, but the static bit at his ear canal.
“Red Hood—,”
“Already on the move.”
“Oracle—,”
“Robin’s coordinates have been dispatched.”
“Red Robin and I are heading over now.”
“Sit tight, Rob. We’ll get you out of there.”
Damian turned off his commlink and continued to dodge goons, which forced him to do flips, spins, and jumps. His moves were like a dance, but nothing deterred his pursuers. His chest started to ache as his breathing became more labored. He was still hitting goons with the hilt of his katana, but they kept coming.
Eventually, Damian ran into a dead end. The goons had smirks that spelled a storm. His energy was draining, but he stood his ground and held his blade firmly, ready to shed blood when an echoey voice rang through the alley.
“Ancients, did you find the Nest or something?”
The air became cold, not like a cold spot or a spike, but something heavy, like Winter. Damian felt goosebumps form under his suit while the goons violently shivered as they froze in place at the presence of the voice. Damian and the goons looked about but found no one.
The voice began to hum then slowly sing in a teasing manner before speeding the rhythm, “Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na— Batmaaaaaan! Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na— Batmaaaaaan!”
The voice repeated the words, but Damian wasn’t familiar with this theme. However, the song’s inspiration was from his father. The voice, however, was familiar. But again, his mind was blank.
Goons started to be hit off in groups as the being continued to sing. The ditty caused Damian’s ears to ring due to its constant use of Na na na. Richard would dance to this, Damian thought as he watched the invisible force throwing goons at each other like a Game of Toss.
“Na na na na na na na na na na na na— Batman! Batman! Batman! Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na—!”
The goons fell like rolling pins as the voice cheered in victory, seemingly dancing through the chaos. Damian didn’t know whether to jump into the fray or not.
“Hi clown, by clown! Na na na na na na na na—!”
Suddenly, the voice gained a body as their invisibility washed away, revealing a boy around fourteen in black and white dancing like they were at a disco. He continued to dance, seemingly unaware of his lack of invisibility. Damian’s shoulders fell as his back straightened. His eyes grew wide at the boy’s features.
“This is a joke, right?” He whispered to himself.
Suddenly, every piece of the puzzle clicked together. Why the gadgets, battle styles, and chaotic nature felt so familiar.
It was because they were characters from a show Dick made him watch when he first became his Robin. A show Dick and he planned to binge-watch once a year, a show that was getting a new season and comic series next summer.
Danny Phantom, the boy, was undoubtedly Danny Phantom.
Why he was signing an unheard-of Batman theme was beyond Damian. But he couldn’t find the power to care because Danny Phantom was kicking Joker’s Men, as Brown would put it— ‘into next Wednesday’— and the air, but that wasn’t the point.
As Danny began to reach the climax of his song, the air became cold enough to freeze the Gotham smog into puffs of solid piles of dust. He then waved his hands as his voice range above the crowd, “Da da da da da da da da da da da da da— Batmaaaaaan!”
He crashed his hands to his side as he stomped against the ground; ice shot from beneath him, encasing the goons inside it. The ice towered over buildings and alleys, reaching far beyond Damian’s eyesight with ease.
“What just—?”
“The fuck?”
“Robin, what’s your status?”
“What the fuck—? Why are Joker’s Goons trapped in ice? You know what—? Whatever! This is the most disgusting yet beautiful ice castle I’ve ever been in! I- I think I’ll cry. Give me a moment.”
“Baby Bat! Baby Bat! Answer us! Your location is glitching out!”
Damian stood in place, watching the Ghost Hero wipe his brow.
“Phew—!” He said. “That was a close call! Sorry for not arriving sooner—!”
Damian broke from his trance and stormed over to Danny at a speed that would make a Speedster blush. He stood on the tip of his boots to meet the teen at eye level, giving him a glare that could make Superman’s laser eyes seem comfortable to be under.
“Uuuuuuh— hi Robi—,”
“Are you Danny Phantom?”
“I- uh- yeah?” Danny said. “H-how did—?”
“So you’re not a meta cosplaying?”
“I can say the same thing about you, kid.”
“Do your transformation, now.”
“Excuse me? No! Sorry, Robster, but I’m a ghost. And ghosts don’t have magical transformations.”
“Lies, if you are Danny Phantom, you will summon your rings of light and revert into a human.”
Danny stood still, his face mimicking a fish as a ring of light emerged from his middle, then split in two, changing him back into a human. He dragged a hand down his face as he groaned.
“How?” He asked.
Damian tisked, “You are a popular form of media in this world.”
“What? I—.” Danny paused before asking, “What type?”
“An animated series made for TV,” Damian stated bluntly.
“Wait! I’m a cartoon over here!?!” Danny’s voice broke at its increased volume, and his posture became stiff. Damian covered his ears and winced but nodded.
“Indeed, you are,” Damian replied.
“Oh! Well!” Danny took in a sharp breath, “Didn’t know that! This is awkward— ummm, sooo, funny story… You're a popular form of media in my world too…”
Damian froze again before asking, “What does that entail?”
Danny narrows his eyes, “It means what it means, Damian Al Ghoul Wayne. Batman has been part of my world’s comic and TV history for like decades.”
Damian’s blood ran cold before he heard Nightwing callout, “Baby Bat! Where are—! Is that Danny, fucking, Phantom!”
“Nightwing?” Danny breathed out. “Oma— you’re my favorite DC character next to Alfred and Martian Manhunter!”
The rest of the Batclan appeared as Danny said that, causing them all to freeze for a solid minute before Red Hood yelled, “I’m sorry— the fuck—?”