Danny, Captured By The GIW, Is Bored Out Of His Mind. Really, He's Waiting For Them To Toss Him In That

Danny, captured by the GIW, is bored out of his mind. Really, he's waiting for them to toss him in that stupid useless cell so he can "disappear" like he always does.

The shield that prevents ghosts from entering or leaving doesn't work, but no one has told them that. Ergo, the cell and the cuffs don't actually work. Except this time when they throw him in the cell, there's a child.

It's a kid, maybe as old as Dani, wearing a Superman hoodie/cape, curled into a little ball in the corner and quietly sobbing. He needs to calm the kid down before he escapes like normal, or the kid's crying is gonna alert the guards.

Normally, Danny phases his hand through the electrical box and destroys the wires, then just phases through the floor and leaves. This serves two functions; it tricks the guards into thinking the issue is with the smoking wires, thereby not alerting them to the busted shield, and also it prevents Danny from having to deal with them if he just phases away from his problems.

This time, he floats over to the kid.

"Hey. Hey, I'm Phantom. Who're you?" He asks gently, reaching out cuffed hands to awkwardly pat the kid on the back.

The kid sniffs.

"...Superboy."

"....Wow, you got really small-"

"-No! I'm not small! And not that one, the. The other one."

Danny frowns, trying to think of any other Superboyyyyyy Oh!

"You're my little sisters favorite one!"

The kid looks up from his knees, eyes wet and jeans damp. There's a collar on his neck, glowing a soft green and illuminating inflamed veins above and below it.

It feels like a bastardized version of ectoplasm, and it's probably what's crippling a Kryptonian child from just punching his way out.

It also doesn't feel like something Danny can phase off of the kid.

"Really?" Superboy asks, voice wobbly.

"Yeah, she loves you! Always brings you up when we argue over who's the best hero."

"Who. Who's yours?"

"Impulse, hands down."

"What? What's he got that I don't h-"

The entire building shakes, knocking Danny and Superboy out of their conversation, and prompting Danny to play shield after shoving the kid to the ground.

Then the ceiling ripped off.

Superman himself hovers above them, eyes smoking red and face far more pissed than Danny had ever seen him show to the cameras.

Even though Danny knows there's no way Superman is mad at him, being subjected to that glare is tricking his brain into thinking the papa bear is mad at him.

"...So we should probably remove the collar from him before you kill me," Danny says, voice a little higher than he would like to admit.

"So why are all of you some variation of 'Danny'?"

Dan, Dani, and Danny looked at each other.

"Whoever is the supreme Danny gets to keep the name, of course," Dani scoffs, picking up her cappuccino from the counter.

"But like...what's the deciding factor on that?" The baffled barista asks.

"Whoever dies the most gruesome death wins," Dan deadpans, grabbing his macchiato.

"Shut the fuck up, edglord McGee, we've all died," Danny groans, elbowing past him to grab his iced caramel triple shot latte. "You're not special."

"Yeah loser."

"But we all came back, so we can just start from there!"

"Dani wins."

"Yeah, I win. I was melting, like the hot witch from Wicked."

"Only because yours happened in this timeline! Mine was way worse!"

"How else are we supposed to track that, Dan?! You and I share the same death now!"

"Fuck you and your stupid electricity, I still remember it so it happened!"

"Cope."

"So much Copium he's radioactive."

The Barista, who never did get clarification, watches the trio leave the coffee shop still arguing.

"What the fuck?" He whispers.

"Those guys had to be Gothamites," one of the customers sighs, exasperated.

"No. No! Because if they are, what're they doing in Metropolis? Fuck off. If Gothamites come here they'll bring the clown with them. Fuck that."

Within mere minutes, a Twitter war had erupted between Metropolis, telling Gothamites not to move there, and Gotham, telling Metropolitans that they wouldn't want to anyways.

Again.

For the fifth time that week.

On a Monday.

Wes forgets, sometimes, about his curse. He forgets at the worst moments.

He'd been taking a moment to himself, hanging out on the bleachers after school, when he'd heard the A-Listers talking about superheroes.

Specifically, they were laughing at Dash as Dash tried to convince them that Batman, and all Gotham heroes associated with him, were vampires that were a part of a coven and secretly running that city.

Wes, ever nosy, spoke up.

Wes should not have spoke up.

"Batman isn't a vampire, you idiot, he's a billionaire playing hero."

Now all of Amity Park is convinced that Bat-affiliated heroes are vampires, and they're spreading that curse-backed "knowledge" to the world via any social media outlet they can find.

Wes ignores it, at first. It isn't a big deal, just some stupid conspiracy theory.

Then news reports start popping up of people trying to attack anyone Bat-affiliated with wooden stakes, or holy water, or in some memorable stories; hollowpoint bullets they'd altered to hold holy water.

Now it's a problem.

Now he's created accounts on all social media platforms, blew his allowance on ads to spread his brand, and runs the most adamant conspiracy channels on practically everything, shouting that Batman and his associated are vampires.

Because if he says it, then no one will believe it.

He just has to spread this version of the curse far enough that it starts to undo the other one.

Naturally, with so many curses being flung around, the JLD take notice.

SY is the principal disciple!

owwie

Jack and Maddie Fenton had used IVF to get Danny, and...did a little bit of Mad Scientisting.

They'd made a clone of the embryo, solely for DNA/genetic purposes, just in case the kid they had needed something like an organ transplant later in life. Then they froze it.

They could just rapidly age the other embryo, after all, and if they did it in a controlled environment then, per their studies, it shouldn't develop awareness nor a soul.

And if it turned out they didn't need it, they could just send it to an IVF clinic! They just went ahead and put in some automated protocols to send out the embryo if it came to that. A push of a button and boom! No need to think about it further.

Perfect.

The embryo would either help their son live, or it could help another couple realize their dreams of having a child. A truly flawless plan!

However, as Jazz was moving out, a couple of things got mixed up.

They didn't mean to, but they pushed the button. The embryo got sent out.

In Gotham, an IVF clinic usually only meant for the very rich received notification that an embryo was on it's way, per their request for one from a family with a history of physical prowess and smarts, guaranteed to have black hair and blue eyes.

In a rush, they called Jack and Janet Drake to let them know the good news. The couple had been having a difficult time conceiving, and had finally accepted that they may need to use other people's DNA for a child strong enough to survive.

Eight and a half months later, Timothy Drake was born.