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It was an accident. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to! He swears! The floor was wet from people trekking in and out of the rain, and the blades were freshly sharpened, and Damian was so tired. Danny was tired. And if Damian had been thinking he would have remembered that storms like this made Danny ache after a bad accident just a year before. That it made his reflexes slow.
It was an accident!
And as he watched them lower his twin brother into the pit, the thick green liquid bubbled around his corpse. They waited with baited breath for something to happen. And waited. And waited. And waited. Waiting for a corpse that would never resurface.
It was an accident… One that left him crying himself to sleep for months after, and even some time after he moved in with Bruce Wayne, when a storm raged outside, and his joints ached, and he couldn’t stop the memories from surfacing.
(It gets less sad, I promise.) (What kind of author would I be if I didn’t play with your feelings a little?)
It was not an accident when they walked into the warehouse to stop a kidnapping. Not an accident when his father and brothers were scooped up into nets before they even knew what was happening. Not when Damian looked down and saw the chalk circle on the floor, intricate symbols around it. No girl in sight. Fortunately, he didn’t see any blood either.
They’ve been fighting this guy for a few months now, and they still weren’t positive where he came from, or if he was fully human. Constantine had a few ideas, but they were a long shot and hard to follow. At the moment, they were primarily focused on halting the human sacrifices, but the lack of information was starting to really piss off Batman and Red Robin.
The man they’d deemed “The Magician” has been kidnapping people, more specifically kids, all over Gotham, even from Crime Alley, which is why Red Hood is also strung up in one of the nets behind the youngest vigilante.
No one takes kids from Crime Alley without repercussions. If these nets were rope, in fact, he would already be on the ground and all over this mother fucker. But it’s chains, and that takes a little more work.
The others were also rushing to find a way out. What the hell kind of chains were these? Damian was small and agile, and fast. He’d been detrimental to The Magician’s plans thus far, when they would catch them. Cutting ropes, stealing tools, and, most recently, releasing his last victim. Unfortunately, this meant the new big bad had zeroed in on him.
“Robin,” The Magician purrs, “Since you have so much fun chewing through my plans, I thought it was time to show you that the dead have teeth too.” he pulls something from his pocket, a shimmering dust, and throws it in the middle of the summoning circle.
Had Damian not been so caught up in finding a way to release his family or looking for any traces of the girl, he would have broken the circle. But as a thick fog rises from it, a green glow opening at the bottom, he knows he’s too late.
“What did you do?!” he snarls.
“Well, I would have thought you’d be pleased to see your dead brother,” The Magician grins. Damian only gets a glimpse before the green fog engulfs his pale face, his flowing black cape with a bright red lining, and the tailored suit he’s wearing. A bit dramatic, if you asked Damian, but summoning his dead brother was definitely more so.
“What?” Bruce and the others have frozen behind him, pausing their struggles against the chains that would be biting into their skin if not for the thick material of their suits.
Damian remained frozen. His mouth was suddenly dry, his mind racing but unable to catch any of the thoughts that felt like they were slamming against the walls of his skull.
“What is he talking about?” Jason sounded mildly scandalized, even through his helmet.
“Wait, does he know who you are?!” Dick sounds the most panicked. And that’s a great question. If he knows Damian has a dead brother, he probably does know who he is. How? Why? What has he done?
The portal glows even brighter. A large gust of icy wind gushes forward from the hold that’s opened in the dusty concrete floor, and it’s strong enough that Damian and The Magician stumble back, his family rocking unsteadily in the nets they’re trying to break through with renewed vigor behind him.
“Robin!” Bruce is yelling, but it’s not registering in his mind, “Robin, report! Focus!” The others are yelling too, but it’s incoherent. It’s as if nothing exists but him and the portal now. The portal that’s Lazarus green. The portal from which a pale, clawed hand slithers out, grasping at the concrete around it.
The figure that emerges is lanky, looks about Damian’s age, and has glowing green eyes that have the others trying harder still to get through the chains. Jason’s knife slips (he doesn’t have any other ideas, he can’t lock-pick a chain! Okay?!) and cuts his hand. He hisses in pain.
Damian’s brother floats up into the air. There’s a cape flowing behind him, dark and full of stars. There’s a fiery blue ring above his head that almost looks like thorns. Damian briefly thinks of a halo, then a crown.
The figure’s face is blank, steady. He’s in a black and white uniform. The one he was wearing when he died. There are also shackles around his wrist and ankles, and Damian thinks they must represent their time in the league.
Damian feels his knees give out under him, but barely registers the pain of his shins slamming into concrete. He feels the tears gathering in his eyes but is unable to wipe them away. He briefly thinks that if this is how he dies, he deserves it.
He won’t fight it. If his brother wants revenge, then he’d give it to him. He’d give him anything, after all he’d done to protect Damian in the league. After all, Damian hadn’t been able to protect him.
“Ha!” Danyal looks down into the pit, a large grin spreading across his face, “Suck it, Walker! I may not have gotten out on my own, but I’m gonna commit ghost crimes again!”
“Even a King can not-” the beginnings of shouting are abruptly cut off as the portal swiftly closes. Danny is now the only thing growing green in the room, his eyes bright and wide and happy. The floor is once again solid concrete.
“What are ghost crimes?” Tim whispers to Jason, who has stopped to stare at the man that he feels an odd pull to.
“I have no idea, but I am so angry at the implication of ghost cops,” Jason replies, deadpan.
Tim snorts, and that seems to get the apparent ghost’s attention.
“Why have you summoned me?!” he rounds on The Magician, who looks more nervous now than he did earlier.
The bats exchange looks. Damian has yet to move aside from lowering his head, resigned to whatever happens next. Batman thinks he can reach the laser in his back pocket if he can just twist a little more…
“You’re Majesty!” The Magician kneels, the bats look back up, including Damian now, “I have summoned you for vengeance! I have found your killer! A sacrifice! I offer him to you to do with as you please! I suspect,” he continues more softly, that it will be mutually beneficial.”
“A sacri-” the ghost (A king?) lands swiftly on the ground, releasing a heavy sigh. The air in the room seems to sigh with him, the tension of the summoning seeming to melt away. “I’m not Pariah Dark!” he sounds exasperated. “I don’t do human sacrifices! Or living ones!” he gestures wildly with his hands, “Just give me ,like, a fruit snack or something! Or a cupcake! Or flowers! There’s a reason people leave flowers at graves, you know!”
“What the fuck is happening?” Dick mutters. The other bats are at just as much of a loss. Bruce finally got his laser.
“Stop trying to sacrifice each other! And mutually beneficial?! You would dare coax me to do your murders?!”
“Uh, no! No! You’re Majesty, I-!”
“Wait!” the King begins to hover again, a tension filling the air once more. “You’re the one who’s been sacrificing children?!” Danny snarls, his cape billowing behind him. “How dare you?!” his voice echoes around the warehouse, staticky and harsh to mortal ears.
“Well- we didn’t- I didn’t- I thought you were Pariah!”
“Whoever you thought I was does not excuse your cruel behaviour. You are not a god. You do not get to choose who lives and dies for your own gain. And for this you shall perish!” Another green portal, smaller this time, opens under The Magician, swallowing him and closing again. “Straight to ghost jail,” Danny giggles to himself.
Bruce drops swiftly onto the floor behind him, the sound loud in the now silent warehouse. He looks around frantically for the anchor of the other nets; he needs to get his sons loose. The noise leaves Danny turning to face the others. His eyes immediately land on the smaller figure on his knees before him.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Danny lands back on the floor, electing to walk so he doesn’t scare the kid anymore, “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you!” Bruce is hesitant, unsure if he should intervene. He decides the king seems harmless enough, or at least not malicious towards them, so he moves closer to the anchors in the corner instead.
“I’m sorry,” Damian is crying. It’s soft and pleading and scared. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. Dick wants to go hug him tighter than he ever has. He’s never heard him sound so much like a kid.
“Hey, it’s okay! How he thought a little thing like you could have killed Pariah, I don’t-” Danny freezes, breath catching in his throat as he tilts the kid's head up. The Magician didn’t think this kid killed Pariah Dark. He somehow got the right information through the wrong equation, because this kid had killed him. No mask would ever prevent him from recognizing his brother.
The others fall from their nets, but are hesitant to move forward, to provoke the situation.
“Damian?” Danny whispers. His brother starts to cry harder.
“I’m sorry, Danyal, I’m so sorry!” he sobs. Danny notices the way the others tense, ready to rush forward, when he wraps his arms around the twin, pulling him close.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he soothes, “Everything’s okay,” how in the Ancients had the man thought he was Pariah Dark and still got his killer? “I’ve got you.” And the people around them definitely weren’t from the league. He’s been trying to break into the league for two years now.
“I don’t understand,” Damian whimpers.
“Oh,” Danny pulls back but doesn’t let go of Damian’s shoulders, “So long story short, I’m the Ghost King, now.” Danny laughs.
“The Ghost King can go to Ghost Jail?” Jason asks.
“Well, Walker and I knew each other before I was the Ghost King, and he’s a pain in the ass,” Danny replies to the one in the red helmet as Damian buries his face back in his chest. “But I always get out. I either escape or I’m bailed out to deal with king stuff.”
“Fucking ghost police…” Jason growls.
“Damian?” The man in the bat costume sounds more hesitant.
“Father,” Damian sniffs, “This is my brother, Danyal. I killed him when we were in The League.”
“On accident!” Danny corrects, “That was not your fault!”
“Yes, it was, it was my fault, I killed you!” Damian sobs again, “I’m so sorry!”
“No, no, no, that was not your fault! And technically, you didn’t kill me! The Pit did! Hence the half-ghost thing!”
“Half ghost?” the one in blue asks.
“What does that mean?” Damian sniffs.
“Oh, we have so much to catch up on,” Danny pets Damian’s hair, “Like when did you get out of The League? And you found our Dad?!”
“Why don’t we go back to the manor?” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, “I get the feeling this is going to be a long and delicate conversation, or series of, and Alfred’s made dinner.”
“Oh, food!” Danny’s face lights up, “That’s an offering!”