Chapter Text
Damian’s been gone for two whole days since his com and tracker went dark.
The night had been calm; the sky for once clear. The early Autumn chill had settled over the city, leaving the air feeling crisp as it chased out the smog that made residence in Bruce’s lungs. With the hazy moon finally visible through Gotham’s near omnipresent clouds, Batman found his city subdued.
“Sky-glazing” Tim had coined: the hypnotizing quality the visible sky has on Gothamites. Simply put, the moon entrances. Fear and violence vanish under its soft glow. Nights like these leave Batman as a silent sentinel, a guard over his people, rather than a dark knight of justice.
It’s with this phenomenon that Batman wrapped up his patrol with Robin; however, Bruce didn’t want to return to the cave quite yet. These nights of minimal crime remind him why he dawns the cowl. He wanted to revel in the peace for a few moments longer, so when Damian asked for extra time in the field to gather additional evidence for a new case he had been working, Bruce didn’t argue. He’d let his son have his way tonight, so that he could also have his.
They had parted ways.
This is the moment Bruce looks upon with regret.
Not an hour later, Oracle informed him Damian had become unreachable.
Now, coms can be jammed. The earpieces have been forgotten, dropped, and destroyed in a manner of countless ways, some too ridiculous to be believable and most of those accomplished by Dick. But the trackers built into their suits… those do not simply “blip” off the map. And for not one but both to go offline immediately has Bruce rushing to Damian’s last known location.
The unremarkable building laid hidden off an unlabeled dirt road on the outskirts of Gotham. No street lights lit the way, not even an entrance lamp near the front door. Without Gotham’s rare clear sky, it would’ve been near impossible to find–if not for the emergency lights dancing through the building’s minimal windows.
No sirens could be heard and no one exited the building. This far from Gotham proper, her constant hum was imperceptible, leaving Bruce in utter silence. With all his restraint, he forced himself to pause at the treeline before the building.
Fifteen minutes it had taken Bruce to arrive at this location. That’s a quarter of an hour, 900 seconds, the length of Sunday morning cartoons Dick had introduced Damian to when he first arrived at the manor–that is to say, it took fifteen minutes too long to reach his son’s location, if he even remained in the building. As much as he desperately wanted to simply rush in, he couldn’t, not if this was a trap and especially not if Damian’s life was on the line.
Suddenly, a shade of neon green flashed above him; the rooftop bathed in its soft light. Only a moment it lasted, then the glow launched towards the city, flickering before snapping out entirely.
A low rumble revved. Instinctively Batman stepped into the shadows just as armored trucks exited the building, speeding down the road kicking up dust in pursuit of the glow.
His fists clenched, fighting the insistent urge to follow. Deep in his gut, he knew that glow was related to his son’s disappearance. But without evidence, he turned back towards the facility.
Damian could still be inside.
“Oracle,” he spoke into his comm. “Six armored vehicles inbound to Gotham in pursuit of an unknown, glowing green.”
“On it, B,” she responded.
Only minutes later, Batman dropped in through a window. White walls, white floors, white ceilings; he could not find a shadow under the harsh, flashing fluorescent lights. Black ink on parchment, but as he suspected, few individuals were left on premises after the vehicle parade.
Winding through halls and peering into rooms, he painstakingly began his search. Room to room he moved.
“Batman, I’m looking at Robin’s case file,” Red Robin popped into the comms. Bruce nearly tutted–Tim’s supposed to have the night off. But Bruce admitted to himself that hearing his voice, knowing one of his sons was safe, tampered his nerves for a moment. “There’s not much here,” Tim goes on. “He was looking into an organization called the GIW–no name noted. Noticed some odd vehicles and advanced weaponry in the city that he traced back to this facility. Possibly a weapons distributor?”
“Odd of them to be so far out of the city then,” Oracle commented.
“Yeah, but maybe they sell to the high bidders then personally deliver. It would explain the trips into the city and armored vehicles.” Red Robin paused before sighing. “It’s clear Robin needed more information to flesh out their organization. This is bare bones, early case work. Sorry, B. Not much info.”
Batman grunted in acknowledgement before ducking into the next room.
It appeared the same as the last few: walls lined with metal filing cabinets with tables at their centers. These must be archive stores, though it didn’t escape Batman’s notice that not a simple one contained a computer or tablet. Every file must be paper.
Even just one of these cabinets would hold enough evidence for convictions if Damian found them; Batman, while acknowledging this, didn’t waste a moment reading over any files. His mission was singularly focused: Find his son.
After a long stretch of hall, a door stood ajar. A badge scanner lay adjacent to it. Clearly only authorized personnel had access, but it seemed that in the rush to pursue the green glow, this room had been left unsecure. Slowly Batman pushed it open.
Unrecognizable weapons lined the walls, each slick silver with glowing neon green or blue accents. Some obviously were guns, but others he couldn’t discern their use. Unknown weapons never foretold anything good.
Initially, Batman believed he stood in an armory, but, no that’s not quite right. Along with the weapons display, a long firing range made up most of the room and in the corner, a sparring mat. This was a training or weapons research facility. Damian may have been on the right track regarding the GIW being involved with weapons, but not only do they potentially distribute but develop these devices.
Without knowing their uses at a glance, Batman decided to collect a few smaller items to analyze at the cave: handcuffs, a white cube, and though he loathed holding it, something resembling a pocket pistol. Each fit neatly into his belt. These samples would greatly help him understand how to neutralize any previously distributed weapons in his city. They would also progress Damian’s case. Once Bruce got him back home.
With a final glance, he exited and continued his search. The remainder of the rooms in this hall required badge access. He traveled further into the building and up a flight of stairs.
Nothing visually changed from one floor to the next, but the air tasted sterile on his tongue–near medical. The implications set him on edge. Why would a weapons distributor require a sterile environment?
Again, no personnel patrolled this floor. His presence should’ve been noticed by now, but the facility had no cameras and presumably, no security room. The lack of comparatively primitive technology in an advanced weapons research and distribution center seemed counter-intuitive, but at the moment, Bruce was grateful for the additional time to find his son.
As he walked peering into various medical rooms, he nearly missed it–a dab of green creeping along the edge of a door, the first color to grace the white halls. Upon closer inspection, the substance glowed ever so slightly–Like the flash on the rooftop. The hue turned his stomach, a near shade of Lazarus water.
Carefully he opened the door.
What he witnessed brought him to a standstill.
At the center of the room, the green substance completely soaked a table with glowing fluorescent blue straps, fitted to completely immobilize. It actively dripped off of the table's edge, pooling on the stark white floor. Smears of it stained surgical tools dashed to the floor from a tipped tray; Splatters painted the walls and unrecognizable machines.
The sickening green glow covered the room in the same likeliness of a massacre. However, Batman’s stomach roiled for another reason. At the center of the chaos, a single splash of crimson blood intermingled with the oozing green.
Bruce took a needed breath. The blood was likely Damian’s.
Another moment and he was moving. He knelt and took a sample of blood and the unknown green substance to be analyzed at the cave.
Standing, he noted an observation window looking down upon the table. He exited the room before finding the entrance to the observation bay. It was sparsely furnished. On one of the few tables, a cup of coffee, still steaming, sat beside an opened file with notes. Batman flipped the file closed; Subject ECTO-0007 File 048 printed across its center.
Re-opening the file, Batman scanned the information.
“Oracle. Red Robin,” he stated. “Call everyone. Robin has been kidnapped.”
Everyone available had been dispatched.
As Batman exited the facility, he launched right into a report of the night over comms, not wanting to waste a second returning to the cave.
A week ago, Damian began tracking nondescript armoured vehicles manned by agents in all white carrying advanced weaponry. He trailed their vehicles to their base of operations outside of Gotham in a near-hidden facility. He’d been able to identify them as the GIW, an acronym that neither Oracle nor Red Robin were able to decipher, but only had a working theory of their business: a possible weapons manufacturer and distributor.
Shortly after a routine patrol, Robin had returned to the facility for reconnaissance; however, his comm and tracker deactivated. Batman had then been dispatched by Oracle to the scene. Upon his arrival, an unknown at the time had escaped the facility via the roof with vehicles in pursuit, which allowed Batman to infiltrate and search the premises.
One room confirmed Robin’s suspicion of the organization being not only a weapons distributor but potentially a developer and manufacturer. A few items were taken by Batman and are currently being tested.
However, concerning Robin’s disappearance, another room in particular was most relevant. A surgery or test room.
Batman had collected blood, which he confirmed belonged to Damian, along with another substance that deteriorated prior to analysis. A particular file had been recovered regarding the presumed escapee and test subject ECTO-0007. Unfortunately, the file was one of many and had been incomplete, but still provided useful information.
This subject was labelled as an ecto-entity; however, the definition of which is unknown. It is unclear if the subject is a meta, alien, or something else entirely. It does have powers, multiple, in fact, including invisibility, matterphasing, and shapeshifting, though this is not presumed to be its full range of capabilities.
While the facility houses high-tech machines, certain technologies are absent, such as cameras and computers; therefore, there is no way to confirm how the ecto-entity escaped, but based on its file, it is extremely proficient at mimicking human shape and behavior. Possibly Damian released the subject believing it to be human. And due to the lack of blood trail from the test room, it is likely the ecto-entity took Damian as its hostage, using its ability to phase through matter to directly remove Damian from the room and straight to the roof where it launched its escape.
Oracle attempted to track the green glow associated with the ecto-entity inbound into Gotham, but among its ability catalogue, invisibility made it impossible. However, the GIW with their armored vehicles and advanced technology may be able to lead them to ECTO-0007 and therefore, Damian.
“I found them,” Nightwing radioed.
Two days of searching have left the group ragged. It’s been particularly tolling for Bruce and Dick who’ve barely allowed themselves a moment to rest, much to Alfred’s displeasure, but they refused to stop until Damian returned home safe.
The group had constantly monitored the armoured vehicles, but it quickly became clear their tracking capabilities lacked precision. Often the GIW would converge on a location only to fan out and ultimately be unable to find the entity. While this narrowed the bats’ search, clearly the entity knew when to disappear as the vehicles approached; but Batman believed the entity must be weak. Based on the sheer amount of green substance–or ectoplasm –present in that medical room, it must tire soon.
And that time was now.
Batman appeared at Nightwing’s side within minutes.
“We go now.” Any other time, Dick would’ve made a comment on his tactless greeting, but as it is, his eldest stares at him with such severity he nearly doesn't recognize him.
“Agreed,” Nightwing says before speaking into his com. “O, Batman and I are going to engage. We don’t know this thing’s full power set, so I want anyone else inbound to stay up top until we give the go ahead.”
“No one will be happy about that,” she sighs.
“Inform the group,” Batman says, backing up Dick. The file he grabbed was incomplete; only a partial profile could be created for ECTO-0007, which means they have to be cautious, and he wouldn’t lose another child. “I don’t want anyone else in danger unless absolutely necessary. And ready the med-bay.”
Barbara let a long pause settle over the line, clearly conveying her disapproval. “Fine,” she says. “Bring him back. Oracle, out.”
The comms cut. A familiar silence lingers between Nightwing and Batman, the quiet prior to battle. It’s only a moment, but Bruce feels the adrenaline-filled calm settle over him, muscles buzzing. Failure is not an option. They will bring Damian home.
Dick breaks the reverie with a shrug and says, “You heard her. Let’s bring our boy back.”
He removes the man-hole cover before him and silently drops in, Bruce close behind.
Though damp, the tunnel only spots occasional pools of water, leaving Nightwing and Batman dry as they land on the floor.
Dick tilts his head toward one of the tunnels before them, a soft green glow emanates from it. Bruce gives a nod of his head and they cautiously approach. In the darkness of the tunnels, the eerie light grows stronger and far more intense than the ectoplasm found in the bright white facility. It easily guides them to a large cavern.
The entity is huddled in a corner, startled eyes glancing between them, before it crouches low.
As expected, it’s humanoid. ECTO-0007’s file revealed that the entity mimics human appearances and behavior as a camouflage and stalking tactic; however, despite knowing this, Bruce is disconcerted by the form it chose: a young teenager, thin and wide-eyed, though clearly not human.
The sickening green glow emanates completely from the entity with an extra touch of intensity shining through surgical cuts in its skin. As its head swings back and forth between them, wisps of white hair float unnaturally through the damp air and light catches on a metal muzzle glinting across its face, which doesn’t hinder a deep growl that echoes through the chamber; grating, it sends a sense of dread through Bruce.
Damian’s prone body lay beneath it.
The sight cracks something within Bruce.
“Release him,” Batman snarls. The entity only cements himself more firmly in front of his son, nearly blocking him from view. The growling grows. Nightwing unsheathes his escrima sticks.
Thick tension settles among them. The entity’s glowing green eyes flicker and in that moment, Batman acts, throwing a flashbang, as Nightwing charges and lands a hit. The entity’s head snaps down but immediately it swipes out an elongated limb, throwing the man into a wall.
The entity sways after Nightwing’s hit and Batman doesn’t give it one moment to recover. He lands a punch to its face, muzzle glinting off his gauntlet, before grabbing a limb and tossing the creature over his shoulder and to the ground. It lands with a groan, skidding away and leaving streaks of ectoplasm on the damp floor.
Batman pointedly places himself between the creature and Damian.
It will not be taking his son again.
“Nightwing,” he orders, but the man is already by Damian’s side. He hears a gasp and his knees grow weak, fearing the worst.
Then Dick cries, “He’s alive. He’s alive, ”
Bruce nearly collapses in relief until the entity screams. Though muffled by the muzzle, the sound strikes discordantly within him. Wrong and unnatural, it leaves him off-kilter as the entity flies through the air, aiming for him. The collision sends them both to the ground. Batman delivers another blow and kicks it off, but as soon as it’s out of his grasp, it doesn’t retaliate but pounces straight at his sons.
Immediately Batman moves, tackling the creature out of the air and to the ground once more. His fist meets its face, snapping the entity’s head back where it impacts the stone floor with a nauseating smack. The entity groans, pushing at Batman’s chest feebly, sharp claws catching on the kevlar. Wide, scared eyes peer up at him, but Batman will not be tricked. The entity attempts to claw at his face but in a flash, Batman grabs its wrist and snaps it.
The entity releases a sickening wail around the muzzle, tears gathering in its glowing eyes. The sound rattles Batman’s head and he is forced to release his grip to instead grab at his own ears as they pound within his skull. Incapacitated, Batman can only weakly struggle as it hooks a leg around him and flips their positions, but instead of using its momentary advantage against Batman, it launches itself off him and at Nightwing’s back instead.
Dick doesn’t see it coming. Kevlar tears under its claws, eliciting a scream, but the entity goes no further than to toss Dick to the floor away from Damian.
“ No, no, ” Batman mutters, struggling to his feet.
The entity approaches Damian, reopened wounds dripping ectoplasm steadily. Reaching his son, it takes the boy up into his arms before weakly floating up a few feet and drifting towards a tunnel entrance, away from both Bruce and Dick.
Nightwing roars. His escrima sticks activate in his hands, electricity visibly pulsing along their shafts. The entity flinches back dramatically, cradling Damian to his chest, as its flight stutters. Its back hits the cavern wall before weakly dropping back to the floor and attempting to scramble away from an enraged Nightwing while pulling Damian along with it.
Batman takes advantage. One punch and the entity drops Damian. Another kick then they are separated before Nightwing jams his escrima sticks into its chest. It wails again, visibly twitching on the ground. A white ring appears around its waist before it flickers out. Batman jumps to subdue it before any other attempts of attack occur.
Once, twice–a third time Batman’s fist connects with the entity’s face. Weakly its arms attempt to block the onslaught, but Batman knocks them to the side, a whimper sounding as the broken wrist is jostled.
Then the entity stutters in his hold. The white ring appears again and in a flash, it shifts. No longer is a glowing humanoid beneath his hands. Batman startles, flinching away.
A teenager collapses to the floor. One that looks exactly like Damian.
Without the green glow, the cavern falls to darkness. Only the moonlight streaming through the grates light the sight before him. Instead of the entity, he sees Damian at his feet, bloodied and weak, a fucking muzzle digging into his cheeks. It groans, crawling weakly away from him before collapsing on its side with its crushed wrist cradled to its chest. Teary eyes flicker to Damian–the real Damian–who Dick is holding so gently in his arms. It reaches out desperately with a broken whine.
Damian then begins to stir. Dick brushes back his hair, “Robin, hey. ”
His youngest groans lightly.
“I’m right here. You’re safe.”
The boy stirs a bit more, wiggling in Dick’s arms.
“No, where’s…” he struggles, his speech slow. Dried blood coats his hair, likely from a headwound. His mask lost, the boy’s bleary eyes take in Dick and his father but widen when they land on the entity curled up a few feet away. He starts squirming in his brother’s arms. “No, no. ”
Dick tightens his hold, unsure about Damian’s reaction. “You’re okay. It’s–”
Damian elbows him directly in the gut, not hard but unexpected enough to loosen Dick’s grip on him. He scrambles up and toward the creature, but Bruce catches him in his arms, supporting his weight. Tremors shake his son.
“Let go, Father,” he croaks.
“Robin, you may have a concussion,” he says softly, rubbing his hands over his shoulders. “There is no need to worry. The thing that took you is now subdued. Let’s get you back to the cave and checked out. It’s been two days.”
“ No, ” he spits vehemently before pushing his father away and stumbling to the creature. His knees hit the floor hard beside it.
“Robin,” Batman warns, taking a step towards him, “ Robin .”
But the boy doesn’t seem to care.
His shaky hands hover over the entity, before placing a hand in its black hair. It flinches back, tense, before Damian under his breath whispers, “ Akhi.”
Bruce’s heart stops. He swallows thickly as Dick comes to stand beside him.
“It can… It can mimic humans,” Bruce weakly provides, but even as he looks upon the entity, he begins to doubt his own words. Morphing to look exactly like Damian did garner sympathy. It stopped Bruce’s attacks. But if it were really to mimic Damian, it would’ve made its brows slightly sharper, its frame a bit thicker, and its eyes green instead of pale blue.
A shade that exactly matches Bruce’s blue eyes.
The entity– no , teenager slumps, exhausted. Already fresh bruises begin blooming across his face, clashing with the reddened skin of the bridge of his nose and cheeks from the muzzle. Reopened surgical wounds leak blood into the dirtied pyjamas he dons. He’s barefoot.
He’s just a kid.
Bruce takes a step forward, but Damian swiftly slides to his feet, katana out in a moment. He places himself between the teen and his father, the weapon held between them.
“ Stop, ” he hisses.
“Woah,” Dick says, “Robin, what’s–”
Bruce cuts him off with a look before raising his hands placatingly at his youngest, green-stained hands. He holds the weapon steadily at his father’s chest despite the exhaustion cutting through him.
Bruce asks, voice wavering, “Who is he?” He knows. He knows who’s unconscious behind Damian, head resting on the dirty, hard floor; knows who put him in that position. Dread, fear, and regret pools heavily in his gut, bringing him to his knees. The katana follows.
Damian stands above his father.
“Akhi , my twin. Your other son, Danyal. And you will not touch him. ”