The Masterpost

The masterpost

I don't know how to do the fancy, tiny link shit cus imma be very, real with all yall...I am not a tumblr girly...

Okay so I made the links tiny but dear God, how do I make it those little things where it's (pry1) and you can just click on it? I can't search for shit and YouTube has forsaken me but I hope this helps people!

Dead Man's Diner

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

Champion and King

Pt 1

Welcome to Gotham

Pt1

Batfam playing dnd cus why not

Tim, the dm because fuck Bruce being it: I swear to God Damian, for the fifth time, no you can not be a half Demon half Angle assassin that is 20th level, we are starting at level two and just pick from the common races!

Damian, crossing his arms: than I shall play a 'teefling' and I demand to the Rouge, Drake.

Tim: Well tough shit brat, Steph already chose that, be a paladin so Bruce can't take it.

Damian: Tt I shall kill brown and take my rightful class...but for now I shall play a paladin.

---

Tim: Cass, honey, darling. Sweet summer child...what?

Cass, grinning ear to ear :roll to seduce dragon?

Tim:

Cass:

Tim:

Cass, playing a bard: ;3

---

Dick: okay so I hope up on the table, over this guy and then try and hit the big bandit dude?

Tim, questioning God as why he was born: Dick. Your playing a Barbarian. You have a dex bonus of 2.

---

Jason: Alphandrill the wise will draw her oaken wand, it was taken from the same tree her grand father planted many centuries ago that was stuck by lighting, wielding it with determination, she points it at the bandit leader and shoots out a blast of molten flames! They glimmer with a sparkle of electricity as it strikes out against him!

Jason: does a 12 hit?

Tim, so done with this: no

---

Bruce: okay so I just roll right? With the...short sword?

Tim: ur actually Batman how is dnd stumping you.

Bruce: I played second edition growing up with Harvey and Ollie, I hardly ever got past the first fight

(Que Bruce having Vietnam flashbacks to his carefully crafted characters dying in the grind stone that was Dnd 2e)

---

Tim: Thanks for joining Alfred, I know that you probably don't even know how to play but it's making Bruce really happy to have everyone together

Alfred, who was an actor for so many years: worry not master Tim, I think this old dog can show you pups a few tricks~

(Alfred pulls out a pre-made mini, it's made out of bat grade materials, he knows the rules front to back)

---

Duke: this...is a lot? Tim I have Dm'ed a bit if you want me to...why are you looking at me like that.

Tim, frothing at the mouth: you...you wanna take over? Does this mean...I can play?

Duke, seriously reconditioning becoming apart of the wanye family: y-yes?

Forever Dm Tim: sweet baby Batman your going to get fucked Duke, but thank you so much for this...

things that make Gotham criminals say “oh shit”:

Batman showing up to the hideout and not asking any questions

Nightwing cracking his escrima sticks together with 0 witty banter or foreplay

Red Hood when his hands are shaking

Injured Robin and Batman known to be in near proximity 

Any sightings of Batman on Robin II’s death anniversary

Superman in Gotham without an escort

Batman speeding through the Narrows on a motorcycle and not the Batmobile

Red Hood abandoning his guns and throwing punches instead

Robin fighting with a sword and 0 supervision

Jim Gordon trying to quit cigarettes for the 19th time on the night shift

Any captured Batkid too injured/tired/frightened to taunt the responsible criminals

Batman bleeding and/or missing any major parts of his armor

Any Bat vigilante other than Duke outside during daylight hours

Dead Man's Diner pt5

Danny groggily propped himself up as he heard the loud bang of his door being thrown open

"DANIEL VLADIMIR FENTON!"

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Danny glared at Tucker, "Middle name? Really?" He hated it, so very much, hated that he thought it was cool when he was a kid, and hated it so much more after the portal incident, it wasn't enough for his parents to have Vlad be his godfather, Danny's middle name had to be that fruitloops as well.

Damn his parents for being such caring friends.

Tucker met Danny's glare as he crossed his arms in the doorway into Danny's room

He would cut an intimidating figure if Danny didn't know him, suit and tie perfectly pressed with a PDA held in one hand.

"I know you said that you got the Bats at the diner place thingy you are working at now last night, but did you have to call them out? Red Robin and Oracle have been trying to track you for the last 5 hours, I have had to summon Technus in the WE employee bathrooms! Thank God Mr Wayne included baby changing stations in each stall or I would have had to carve a sigil into the fucking wall! And I think *he* bricked the Batcomputor!" Tucker screeched as he paced the clear area of Danny's messy room

Scrubbing at his eyes, Danny sat up fully, more awake than he was a minute ago, "S-sorry? Didn't really think about them being sore bitches about it, I tagged them like once and set it online, they probably get hundreds of tags an hour. How was is supposed to know that they would read it?"

Tucker snarled, holding out his PDA for Danny to see "Not just Nightwing and Red Robin, half the God damn Young Justice team, The Titans are all over Nightwing, and all the rest of the bats are laughing their asses off! Look!"

<@Superboy_(the_hot_one)

[@not-that-red-robin.real wow Rob, if I knew u were broke I would have have asked Lexie to give u some cash]

<@Beep-Beep!_(official-Impluse)

[ @not-that-red-robin.real that's not very lit fam Gucci of u RR not very rizztastic and definitely isn't skibidi

@living-legend(Yes_that_wondergirl)

<@not-that-red-robin.real for fucking shame Red Themyscira has laws for bitches like you comere I am gonna cut off your thumbs.

Letting out a laugh, Danny was grinning as he scrolled through to Nightwings part.

<@theonetrueblueborg

[@.realwing: it's giving "my daddys rich and will take the bill" wing]

<@veggiemonster

[@.realwing: bro

:BRO

:Broooooooooooo]

<@Goth (Taylor's version)

[@.realwing: shame.]

Danny was full on laughing now, ad from what he could see through tears, so was Tucker, standing up with a weaze, "O-oh my Ancients....ugh t-that is just great"

Letting out a few more chuckles, Danny handded the PDA over to his friend, "I am sorry about getting the Bats aware of me, but I am not sorry for calling them toxic thinks."

Tucker sighed, running his forehead but still had a smile on his face, "You do know #NightwingsAssIsCancelled is trending right now?"

Danny couldn't hold back the cackle that shot through him at that.

---

Tim held his head in his hands, above him was his laptop, cycling through rebooting and then crashing, it had been five minutes so far, and if the last cycle had told him anything it would be up to that for another five minutes.

Groaning, Tim dragged himself up, he hadn't slept much last night, spending most of it trying (and failing) to get any information on the employee of Big C's, Danny nolastname he could find.

That was part of the problem, anytime he got even a smidgen close, it was like someone bitchsmacked him away. Even Babs was having trouble, she got a single thing before getting locked out of her own systems with baby shark playing on loop through her speakers.

He didn't know what to feel, humiliated that he was being actively cock blocked for information or excited since this is the first time in a while something was so difficult! The bear fact that he was being blocked so hard meant that there was something to block with this kid!

Stumbling down to the dining room, Tim didnt spare the table of his family a glance until he had gotten the pre-made cup of coffee from Alfred, letting the bitter drink wake him fully.

Finally turning to the family at large, he saw Bruce doing his best impression of a stone statue (Normal Damian was openingly glaring at him (slightly less normal), Dick was face down in a bowl of cereal (vaugly normal) and Cass was giggling while putting clips and sparkling things into Dicks hair (okay back to normal again)

Sitting in his spot across from Damian, Tim sighed, which seemed to be enough for Damian to go off on him.

"Are we paupers Drake? Has the CEO position at WE pay so little? And what of your own company? I was unaware that Drake Industries has fallen on such hard times!" Damians words rolled out like a lazy river, smooth and uncaringly cold.

"Oh my God, I am already planning on going back tonight and settling the fucking tab Dami, lay off it." Getting the expected "language" statement from both Bruce and Alfred, Tim drained his coffee cup, not so slamming it down but close to it before Damian could respond.

Eyes shooting to Bruce he huffed, "Meeting. Vlad Masters. One ish hours away."

Bruce's eyes shot to Alfred who only raised a brow at the two and Bruce stiffened "We can speak later in my Study Tim, eat something other than coffee and we can go do that." Getting a nod from Alfred, Bruce seemed to deflate with a sigh.

Grumbling, Tim picked at the plate of food Alfred placed in front of him, before forcing himself to eat, he would need energy more than coffee.

After managing to finish half his plate, Tim stood, "Come on, I need yo clue you in to somethings I was researching last night B..."

---

Bruce stayed silent as he sat down in his office, a tablet on his lap as he went through the test results once again.

"...are you saying me and Dick had Lazarus water laden food last night?" Tim said with frigid calmness

Biting back the urge to clam up and try and keep his son from worrying, Bruce nodded, "Trace amounts yes, I am unsure of its origins, the samples I was able to pull were much more pure than we are used to. How are you feeling?"

He watched as Tim held his face in his hands, massaging his temples before speaking, "Fine really? A little tired, appetite isn't there but that's normal...been feeling a strange sensation in my side but that is just likely phantom pain."

Noting everything down, Bruce nodded slowly, "Dick mentioned that he was still full feeling after a night's sleep and that some old wounds were feeling strange, I can only assume you are feeling your splenectomy scar?"

Sighing at Tim's agreement, Bruce noted a few more things down, making holding the last line to ask Damian if he had any knowledge on eating food effected by the pits, and another one not to tell Jason about this all in case it triggers something in him

"Putting that aside, B, what about Masters? Vladco makes medical stuff right? Shady business practices?" Bruce gave a grunt, switching the tabs on his pad to show him thr information on Vladimir Masters.

"Age 48, male, standing 6'1, weighs about 180, doctorate in theoretical quantum mechanics, had a lab incident preparing for a theise that left him hospitalized for some time, after he recovered and graduated is when his suspected criminal activities began, since then he has had several business owners simply sign their lively hoods to him...I suspect he is Meta with some sort of mind control abilities, the lab accident would make sense in awakening his Mets gene."

Bruce spoke as he handed the tablet over to Tim, "He sponsors several scientists with various types of study, two that stick out are Doctors Fenton and CADMUS."

Tim pulled a face as he followed along through the tabs of research "CADMUS? Really? So we are looking at some Midwestern millionaire that is totally not a supervillian in the making...what's up with the Fentons?" Handing the tablet back Tim flopped down into the chair opposite to Bruce.

"I am trying to figure that out, so far I know they went to school with Masters, and were there with him during the lab accident, the continual funding Masters is giving them makes me suspect they are just as involved in what ever Masters is to to..." Bruce was going to continue when there was a knock on the study door, and Alfred poked his head in.

"If you wish to be on time to your meeting, I would suggest Master Timothy get dressed now so you both might be in the car while I drive it to Wanye Towers."

Bruce frowned, but nodded, giving time a small smirk as the teen begins to realize he is just in a winkled t shirt that Bruce was 95% sure was Conners, and a pair of shorts that Bruce was very sure were Barts.

Oh worm?

Inspired by @bluerosefox and their idea for tiny Tim and little baby man Danny.

This might become a series if yall like it.

Tim cupped his hands together as he softly blew on his freezing fingers before rubbing them together to try and warm up.

He was out later than he usually dared, up on top of an apartment building, it was a hot spot for Batman and Robin when they came to Old Gotham because of the easy to grapple corners and ledges, plus a fire escape that when from the roof to street level! A perfect place for the bats to swing by.

Checking the time on his scrappy little prepaid flip phone, he had learned better than to take his real phone with him, on the extremely rare occasion his mother checked his location, it had happened once while he was out, and golly did he get an ear full.

He winced as he watched double digits turn to singles, he had been out too long. Sighing the boy stood with resolute disappointment, he had wanted to snap at least a few pictures of Batman and Robin before he had to head home.

Stepping down onto the fire escape, Tim carefully climbed down, but still skip the steps to get down faster, a quick pat on his side made sure that his little bundle of gift cards were still in his pocket.

His parents saw if he spent over a set amount on their credit card, so he just added a few 25 dollar prepaid visa card on top of his grocery bill.

Jumping down from the last step, Tim smiled a bit as he imagined himself doing the tricks he saw Robin do, well, both Robins. The new one was a bit more clumsy, but boy did he make up for it with the grin on his face.

Humming a bit to himself, Tim walked through the ever busy streets of Gotham, sure people looked at the small 11 year old boy wearing a far to big back pack and just sneered at the obvious rich kid, but Tim knew how to protect himself!

He had a bb gun that had the orange tip painted and he was not afraid to wield it!

Stopping in front of a Batburger, Tiny Tim hummed a but before going in, he had wanted to see if there was a new Robin figurine in their Batkid meal box.

---

Danny groaned as he clutched his side, he didn't want to to look down at it, didn't want to see the green ichor leaking between his fingers and down onto the pavement below him

Revealing he was a ghost to his parents was never something he had wanted to do, but Vlad had forced his hand.

Somehow he knew about Dan, knee of the destruction and terror he brought and envied, wanted to see Danny turn out just like him.

His family was targeted, one thing after the other, from car bomb to a lab accident, he didn't stop.

Danny had run himself ragged trying to save them, but...it almost hadn't been enough, Plasmius himself had to come to end them after his plans were foiled.

And to protect those he cared about the most he transformed right in front of his parents.

Only they stopped firing on Plasmius and onto *him*.

In the confusion Jazz had managed to capture Plasmius in a thermos, she tried to stop their parents from shooting Danny but...

They didn't see the son they raised anymore.

Just a filthy ghost that killed their son.

His core wailed in pain as he shuffled into an alleyway, his back pressing up against a wall as he tried to get his brain to think, he had known his parents loved him, but they very much did not love Phantom.

Holding back a pained whine as he slid down the wall and onto the ground, Danny looked up to the starless night sky, pollution had rotted the air, making it hard to see past the dim light of the moon.

He wanted the stars.

Why couldn't Clock Work send him to a place with stars to die?

Taking in a shaky breath the saccharine air, Danny let his head fall, finally looking at the chunk of himself that was missing, it was easily the size of his fist, he couldn't transform back into a human, or else he would simply bleed out.

He knew he shouldn't close his eyes, but he was just...so tired.

He knew what he needed to do but he didn't want to do it, his core let out a whimpering keen as he transformed again suppressing his thoughts and worries, shinking his body down to conserve ectoplasim, lessening his mind to his barest ghostly instincts to just get away from it all.

---

Tim swung his legs as he sat at the big booth all alone, slurping happily on his warm cup of hot coco he had splurged a bit sure but they came out with a new flavor!

He wondered how Nightwing felt about his supposed favorite drink, it didn't have much to do with him other than blue tinted whipped cream and hints of vanilla and carmel

Shaking his head, the boy hopped off the bench as his number was called by a bored teen that was working the late shift.

Grabbing his Batkid box in one hand and his shake in another, Tim said his thank yous as he walked through the door.

(his mother made sure he was a polite young man after all)

Deciding to find a nice place to eat before heading home, Tim set off into the night, swapping his drink between his hands to keep them warm.

Pausing for a moment as he crossed over an alleyway, Tim stilled and tried to listen again, hoping to hear what made him pause again.

That was a whimper alright, shuffling all his food into one hand, Tim fumbled for his flip phone before pulling it out and clicking on its meager flashlight.

He was pretty sure it was a kitten or something, he couldn't keep it, no matter how much he would love to have a friend over at his house, his father was allergic to nearly all of them and his mother thought Sphinx cats were ugly so it was a no go for Tim, but he could at least bring an injured kitten to a shelter.

Shining his phone into the dark alley way, green eyes welcomed him back.

"Ohhh boy, not...very much not a cat." Tim didnt know how to describe what he had stumbled upon, it couldn't be longer than a foot, it was kinda like snake with arms, human arms, and a human face, and with human hair.

It stared at Tim

Tim stared at It

It let out a soft, scared hiss.

Tim put his food down, took out a French fry and offered it to the little...thing.

That seemed to be enough for the little half shake half person...thing to slither over, grabbing the French fry with both of its hands and start to nibble on it.

Having never been told specifically *not* to touch things like this, Tim softly ran a finger over the little things head, cooing softly at the loud rumbling purr he got from it, "Oh your just a little guy..."

Giving it another frech frie after it finished the first, Tim looked around the alleyway to see if there were any other...things around, but only could see a faintly glowing puddle of goo, once again not specifically told not to touch it.

Tim touched the glowing goo. Tim being a curious 11 year old boy did what only an 11 year old boy would do when he finds a puddle of goo.

He put it in his mouth.

Tim did not like the taste of the goo.

"Blugh" was all he could saw as he scrambled over to his drink, taking a few long drags of his straw to get at the succulent, poorly nightwing themed drink.

There was a skittering snicker coming down from the little thing, which made Tim huff, "Should have known better, goo in Gotham is hardly good." That got another snicker.

Reaching down carefully, Tim softly stroked the long body of the little guy, transfixed on the feeling of both warmth and slick...scales? He didn't know, but up close he could see more of it, the little snake person thing had white bits, a blob of white thst looked kinda like a D on its chest, and pointed little ears as well.

His petting was rewarded with a purr that rumbled its whole body, but the purring stopped with a whimper as Tim's fingers brushed up against a not smooth side of the snake like body.

"Buddy...looks like you got hurt little guy..." Biting his lip, Tim thought about this...he wasn't told *not* to take home half snake half people before....

---

Danny knew two very important things.

Hand was good, felt nice on wiggle part.

And golden goodness that was given felt good in belly.

He wiggled and stretched in the very warm and comfy pocket he was placed in, the Hand was softly stroking his head, his ears were softly flapping as his core purred.

He could sense movement, and a slight shake of something else but couldn't tell what.

But he knew that Hand was warm and safe and didn't hurt.

And wasn't that all that was important?

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.