G&g24 - Tumblr Posts

Art to the amazing fic by @numinous-scribe "I wonder what could lie beyond infinity", read it, it'll punch you in a gut but, like, gently.

We're both part of the Ghouls and Gangs Bang ( @dpxdcbigbang ), check out other works because both writers and artists did amazing jobs, and their works are really varied when it comes to vibes, length and characters used from both universes

Spoilers to the ending of Scribe's fic under the cut, read before proceeding

I'm not crying, you're crying

Summary:

M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan.

And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down

And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces.

And shards cut them both in the process.

Enormous thanks to @clockworkclownart for amazing art and @dpxdcbigbang for organizing this event. I don't think I'd have the courage to actually write it if it wasn't for them

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools

Masterpost Please don't comment on this post

All Stories

Part 1: Letters Between Brothers

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Ao3

Art Done by @restricted-on-13th and @annarooma 13's piece AnnaRooma's piece Ahhhh! I love their art so much! Go check out the both of them on this platform as well as their others, I promise you won't regret it.

@dpxdcbigbang

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Dear Damian Wayne, Dec. 19, 2011

There really isn’t a good way to say any of this, especially via a letter. If I’m being completely honest, which I am, I would much rather be saying this to you in person. For both our safety, though, this was the best way I found to contact you.

First off, congratulations on being brought into the Wayne household! I never would’ve considered imagining that Bruce Wayne would be our father, but, here we are. Unless you’re there undercover? I doubt that, though.

Now, I should probably cut to the chase, no matter how much I want to stall. You might not remember me, but I’m your brother. Don’t freak out! Please, just finish reading this, at least. If you don’t believe me or you don’t want to ever talk to or see me again, then that’s fine. I completely understand.

You probably hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I couldn’t stay there. When we got separated on that mission, I ended up nearly killed. Some civilians found me and took me to a hospital to get my injuries treated. I realized, after I woke up, that this was the life I wanted. Leaving you hurt me so much more than I could ever describe in any language, but going back to Grandfather and Mother was a death sentence. I hated doing that to you, but I couldn’t do that to myself.

God, I suck at this.

I love you, Dami, I really do. I’ve wanted, for years, to come back to you, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. A selfish coward who can’t even face his own brother properly.

Forgiveness is a luxury I have no right to ask you of, but I’m going to anyway. So, can you? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you alone? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you  to think I died? Can you ever forgive me for making you go back to that place alone? Can you forgive me for being so selfish?

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you then, and I don’t mean to hurt you now. I’m beyond ecstatic that you made it out. I’m so happy that you’re with father now. I hope you never have to go back to Nanda Parbat ever again.

شكراً لكونك أخي

          Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton

              (xxx) xxx-xxxx

***

There was a time that Danny only ever referred to as Before. Before he’d come to America; Before he’d been taken in by the Fenton Family; Before he’d lost himself to the life he’d never envisioned. He could remember it well.

*

He’d grown up in Nanda Parbat , high in the Himalayan Mountains. Beautiful buildings made of golden sandstone bricks, roofs made of the redist clay shingles, untouched snow for as far as the eye could see, and mountain peaks stretching high above the little valley.

There were greenhouses, too, filled with plants of all kinds from everywhere! Food, poisons, antidotes, it was all grown in Nanda Parbat. Clean water was pulled from the wells and the snow as though nature herself was giving her best to this one place. Truly a heaven on earth. The Garden of Eden, some people called it.

The residents were known to very few, only ever coming down when they found themselves with visitors. The towns at the base of the mountain ranges had plenty of legends about the People of the Mountains, but even fewer still knew their real secrets.

The League of Assassins, founded by Ra’s al Ghul himself, had made Nanda Parbat their home base, though neither Ra’s nor his daughter, Talia, made a habit of staying for too long or visiting often. No, Nanda Parbat had been claimed to raise the heirs and guard the Lazarus Pits.

Danny had been born in those very halls, buried deep within the protective embrace of the mountains, mere minutes after his brother. He knew nothing but Nanda Parbat, half convinced that his instructors were lying about the outside world. After all, could it really exist if he’d never seen it?

Grandfather and Mother came by thrice a year. Once to check on or use the Lazarus Pits, once to check on the Demon Heirs, and once to instruct lessons of their own. It was how it had always been done, so Danyal and Damian knew nothing else.

Grandfather would tell tales of conquest, instructing them on how to mold their very surroundings to their wills. Mother shared her missions, warning against how others would try and use them to get to her and Grandfather, seeing them as the weakest link. Damian and Danyal taught each other, on the nights when they could escape prying eyes, the importance of secrets. No one to trust but yourself, both Grandfather and Mother had pushed, anyone will betray you when given the right incentive.

The day came when Mother and Grandfather came to check on the Pits. The week-long stay had been the same every year, but their instructors had announced a change. Danyal would be going with Mother while Damian would be going with Grandfather. They would return to continue their studies in Nanda Parbat by the next full moon.

Danny had been excited. He was going to the outside world! He’d never been there before! He’d only ever seen pictures of it! Such fun! The only disappointment he held was that he was not going to share the moments with Damian. Yes, they would be leaving together, but they wouldn’t be together. Mother and Grandfather stayed at separate bases, after all.

The night before they were set to depart their Himalayan Paradise, Danyal had snuck to the roof with his brother.

“I’m scared, ahki,” he whispered, the wind hiding his voice from all but his brother.

“Don’t be, ahki,” Damian had assured, “You will be with Mother. She will keep you safe.”

“But the instructors say that we will be on our own!” Danyal said, “Besides, I do not know Mother.”

Damian did not pause. “Of course you know Mother. She gave us life. She teaches us.”

“Yes, but I don’t know her. I know you, and I know the birds, but I do not know Mother nor Grandfather.”

“Perhaps,” Damian had suggested, “we do not need to know them as we know each other? Perhaps, we only need to know that Grandfather is Ra’s al Ghul and the Mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“Then that means you’re Damian al Ghul!” Danny smiled, emotion his instructors had tirelessly trained out of him bleeding into the privacy shared between him and his brother.

Damian nodded, “And you are Danyal al Ghul.” A beat. “We will be fine tomorrow and the day after and the days to follow. When we return to Nanda Parbat, we will sit in this very spot and share our adventures.”

“Tales of conquest?” Danyal asked.

“Warnings of fools.” Damian responded.

*

A tale as old as the dirt beneath his feet. Before had been five years ago. So long in the past, but only a few pages back. Sometimes, it was as though he’d never left Before behind him. His training, for all that it was minimal in his limited time within the snow valley, was carved into his very soul. Not even the wear of time could pull him away from a weapon or the scan for immediate exit points or the caution when dealing with new people and places.

Jazz had explained to him that his responses to certain situations should not be that cautious or violent. She’d tried again and again to tell him that he was safe; that he wasn’t where he had been Before.

He knew that, obviously. Nanda Parbat was free of the disgusting urbanization of the modern world. This place was free of the untouched beauty of the hidden gems. He could see the beauty in the contradictions and in what he had been taught to scorn, he was not an idiot, but he could not appreciate it the way people born there could.

*

The Doctors Fenton, only Masters in their fields at the time, had picked him up at the base of the Italian Appalachian Mountains. They’d treated his wounds, introduced him to their daughter Jazz, and given him the opportunity to escape where he had been.

The Fentons had taken his hesitation as confusion for the situation; amnesia. They told him, as gently as they could, that all signs pointed to an abusive home. They wanted to help him get out as soon as they could.

But, that wasn’t right. Danny, in all his six years, knew exactly what an abusive relationship was. It was one of the things his Mother had taught him about when he’d first left Nanda Parbat with her when he was four! He didn’t come from an abusive home or an abusive relationship! Damian would never put him through that, and the ninja all knew better than to do anything untoward to him and Damian.

“And what about your parents?” Jazz, being only eight years old, had not held her tongue as Danny had been taught to. “Or any other adults?”

Now that, that was definitely a thought. But, no. No one within the confines of Nanda Parbat or within the League of Shadows as a whole had ever hurt him outside of training. The injuries they had treated were from a mission, not from his Grandfather or Mother or brother hurting him!

*

His attempts at clearing the misunderstanding had been brushed off as his imagination trying to protect him. Repressing and changing trauma, Jazz had translated.

He had thought, at the time, that everyone was wrong. He had come from a perfectly normal place! Though, the week he spent in the hospital had him second guessing. He was the only one looking for every possible exit in case of any possible situation at any given time. He was the only one prepared to slit the throats of everyone in the room if they got in the way of his escape. He was the only one to actively check for weapons to use or be used against him.

During his stay in the hospital, because they wouldn’t let him leave before he was cleared by the doctors who worked there, the Fentons had exposed him to many things that made him question his upbringing. But, now that he knew the truth, he’d never be able to go back.

The Fentons had promised him, the night before he was cleared to go, that they would help him stay away from the people who had hurt him, so long as he allowed them to. And how could he not accept? Too many questions had invaded his mind. The only way to answer them was to do as his Mother had taught him: learn from experience. So, he relented, leaning into the ‘trauma induced amnesia’ everyone had assumed he had, and went along with the Fenton Family.

But what about Damian? Surely, he was safe. Surely, he’d gotten back to Nanda Parbat and reported to Grandfather and Mother that Danyla had been killed! He could not go back, not yet. And maybe, a tiny, selfish part  of him that he hid in the darkest corners of his brain, was glad he wouldn’t be going back for any reason. To make himself feel better, he’d told himself that he’d go back for Damian once he was sure he wouldn’t be caught and killed for treason.

The plans laid within the floorboards under his bed with the katana and daggers the Fentons had let him keep.

Exactly four months after turning ten, Danny had turned on the TV. It was just to provide white noise while his adoptive parents were out, so he didn’t really care about the channel. Jazz hadn’t cared, either. If she had, she hadn’t said anything.

The channel had been one for national news. The covered story was in Gotham, New Jersey. Not unusual, but concerning until none of the names of the city’s rogues had been named. Bruce Wayne was holding a gala to officially introduce his youngest son to the world. That is what dragged Danny to sit and watch attentively.

Danny knew the name Bruce Wayne very well. His Mother had told him, no less than six times, that he was to go to Bruce Wayne if he ever found himself in a situation where the League of Shadows couldn’t help him. Bruce Wayne was his go-to if he ever needed because he is his father.

When Danny first met the Fentons, something had kept him from escaping. He could have, but he didn't. Something had compelled him to stay. That same something had told him to avoid Bruce Wayne when he was ten. That same something was now telling him to go to his father.

Danny didn’t listen to that something. Instead, he watched his brother stand beside their father and his other children. He followed his brother’s public persona studiously. When he pieced together Damian being Robin, meaning that Bruce Wayne was likely Batman, he followed his vigilante life, too. All the while, he was too much of a coward to actually reach out to them.

After all, what would they get out of having a relationship with him? He was a traitor to the Shadows, dead by all accounts that mattered. They already had an established family, so why would they want Danny? So, he stayed away.

It wasn’t until the week before his and Damian’s eleventh birthday that he finally managed to write a letter to his older brother. He timed it so that the letter would arrive the day of their birthday. A part of him hoped that Damian would get, read, and respond to the letter. A bigger part of him hoped that it would be lost amongst the birthday cards that were surely being sent to Damian now that he was living with their father.

Damian’s father. Danny already had a father. Well, a dad. He also had a mom and a sister. He even had an aunt! Not to mention the friend he made. He’s never had a friend before! So, yeah. Danny had a mom, a dad, a sister, and a friend. He wanted Damian, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. If Damian didn’t want him, then that meant that he wouldn’t have a brother or Grandfather or Mother or a father. Or three more brothers, apparently. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be upset about any potential loss that wasn’t Damian.

*

“Please respond, please respond, please respond!” Danny chanted under his breath as he opened the mailbox. There were four letters inside, three for his parents and one for his sister. “La naiba!” he swore.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked as she came up behind him. She’d learned early on that it was near impossible to sneak up on him.

Danny shoved the three envelopes into her hands. “There’s nothing there for me.”

“Why would there be anything in there for you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you order something without telling mom or dad?”

He scoffed. “No. I sent a letter and I’m waiting for a response.”

Her head tilted to the left slightly. “When’d you send it?”

“Three days ago.”

“There’s no way you’re ever gonna get a response in three days.” She scolded lightly, leading the way into the house, “Just be patient.”

He followed her. “Easy for you to say!”

“Who’d you send it to anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Jazz turned on him, her expression as unimpressed as a twelve year old could be. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she raised her right eyebrow and tilted her head to the left again and slightly forward. When that didn’t get her what she wanted, she crossed her arms, her feet planted firmly in place. She’d picked up several things since Danny was brought into the family. This was one of them.

Danny hated it when Jazz did this. She reminded him so much of Damian that he had nearly cried the first few times she’d taken this exact stance to get what she wanted. Was it an older sibling thing? Regardless, it wasn’t very long before he cracked. “Okay, fine! But we talk in my room, okay?”

She smiled, losing the pose and opening the front door. “I can work with that. Do you want a snack?”

“Sure,” he huffed. He’d meet her in his room. If she wanted answers, she was going to have to bribe him. It was a subtle tactic, one that didn’t work because it wasn’t really bribery if he was already going to do what she wanted, but he needed to make himself feel better about it somehow.

It took exactly five minutes and thirteen seconds for Jazz to enter Danny’s room with some chips, crackers, and bottled waters from the pantry. Not that he was counting. They set up camp in the middle of the floor, the snacks on the floor between them and their homework set out to work on. Whether either of them would use the paper distraction was yet to be determined, but it had become common practice to have a distraction when a conversation seemed like it would take more than a few minutes. And this was definitely one of those conversations.

As soon as they were both settled, Danny took a deep and obvious breath. “I didn’t ever have amnesia.”

Jazz blinked. “What?”

What a way to start, Danny. Another breath. “When you guys first found me, the doctors said I had amnesia; that my brain locked away the memories of Before because I couldn’t handle the stress of it. I went along with it because that seemed like the best course of action at the time. But, I didn’t lose my memories. I still had them. I still have them.” He didn’t look up from the floor.

Jazz leaned forward and took a chip out from the bowl and popped it in her mouth, the crunch of her chewing doing nothing to cut the tension in the room. She swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We could’ve had the people who hurt you arrested!”

Danny shook his head. “No. I…I thought, when I was growing up with Grandfather and Mother, that everyone was raised like that. It was all I knew. But then you guys found me and took me to the hospital and suddenly, things weren’t adding up. I decided to go with you guys because I knew I couldn’t return to Grandfather and Mother with my thoughts all messed up like that.”

To her credit, Jazz was taking this all in stride. She took another chip. “Why didn’t you leave when you got your thoughts all sorted out?”

“Honestly?” he huffed, “I realized that I didn’t want to live that life anymore.”

“Then why keep the weapons?”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘sentimental value’?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They let silence reign over them again for a bit, focusing on their homework and eating the food set out between them. Finally, after they were both finished, Jazz put her things back in her backpack and leaned against the wall behind her, taking the bowl of chips and a water bottle with her. “What was it like, your home Before?”

Danny smiled and slipped his own things away, leaning against his bed with the bowl of crackers and his own bottle of water. This was a topic he could talk about for hours. “I was born in Pakistan, in the Himalayan Mountains, specifically. Very secluded. My brother and I were the only two kids there.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah, his name’s Damian. He’s older than me by a few minutes.”

“Why wasn’t he with you when we found you?”

“Because we got separated.”

“Do we need to go find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s with our father now.”

“Is he the one you sent the letter to?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Tell me more about where you were born?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “It’s a valley of snow, nestled between peaks in the Pakistanian end of the Himalayan Mountain Range. The buildings were all connected by roofed gravel walkways, yellow sandstone bricks and red clay shingles and dark wood pillars and floors and doors. The green houses were always my favorite. Any plant you could possibly think of was probably grown there! Damian always preferred the stables and pasture, though. He got along better with animals than actual people, I was the exception. When the weather was good, we’d take our lessons outside. If the weather was bad, then we’d study in the arena or the library.

“Sometimes, whenever Grandfather or Mother came to visit, they’d tell us stories about their adventures. My favorite stories, though, were of how Mother met my father and their adventures together. Grandfather doesn’t like those stories, though. He doesn’t like my father much.

“Me and Damian were the only kids there, so we had to play with each other. There weren’t any games we could play because adults are boring, so we made stuff up as we went along. Sometimes, we’d sneak into the stables and pet the horses! Other times, we’d sneak out of our rooms and climb to the roof to watch the stars.

“The stars were so pretty there! They’re the same stars that we see here, but they were so much brighter in Pakistan; more visible, y’know? The sky was so clear and it was so quiet- One of the people staying there gave me a book about the stars before he left.”

“Is that what started your fascination with space?” Jazz asked.

Danny nodded, “Yeah, it was. Damian would listen to me retell the same stories for hours whenever we climbed to the roof, but he never asked me to stop. I don’t think he ever looked at them and saw what I saw, though.”

“What did you see when you looked at the stars?”

“I saw something just barely out of my reach that I know I could grab if I was just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit better.”

“Is that what you see now?”

“No.”

“Oh, then what do you see now?”

“I see the past, and I see a hope for the future.” He paused. “It was a competition between me and Dami, trying to be better than each other because whoever was the best was Grandfather’s and Mother’s favorite.”

She frowned. “You guys were kids! You shouldn’t’ve had to compete for attention like that!”

“I know that now,” he shot back, “But we didn’t then. We were raised to compete with everyone to hold Grandfather’s and Mother’s attention and favor. If we lost it, if we did anything that Grandfather deemed unworthy of the family name, then we were punished.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know, but it’s what we knew.” A beat. “It was a big family, so not everyone stayed at the one compound.” The League was very far from being a family, but it’s the best way to describe it without exposing it to anyone. “Me and Damian were born and raised in the main compound in Pakistan. Grandfather, the head of the family, stayed and led from a compound in China. Mother stayed at a compound in Bangladesh. When we were four, I went and spent a month with Mother and Damian went and spent a month with Grandfather before we were sent back to Pakistan. When we turned five, I went with Grandfather and Damian went with Mother. When we turned six, we were both sent to spend time with family here in the states. I got separated from Damian and-”

“-me and mom and dad found you.” Jazz finished for him.

“Yep.”

“But, how did you get so hurt?”

Before he could answer, the front door burst open, their parents announcing their arrival carrying through the house. “A story for another time, I guess,” he shrugged.

Jazz wasn’t happy to have been interrupted, but she didn’t push. Instead, she took the empty bowls and went downstairs to greet their parents.

Danny leaned his head back against his bed, lost in the memories of his time with his brother. He wishes that Damian would send a reply already. He had remembered to put a return address, right? Maybe he should’ve just used the house’s address instead of setting up that PO box in the next town over! It’s not like anyone ever claimed to be reliable delivery persons!

Waiting was always the worst part of anything. Waiting for Grandfather to speak when he’d called an audience; waiting for Mother to tell them the end of her story; waiting for the guards to show any weak point to sneak past; waiting for a mission to start. It was always agonizing.

*

The morning was cold. Colder than it had been, but not as cold as it could be. Unfortunately, the cold meant snow. Snow meant that it was way too bright outside. And, despite it not being the morning of a school day, Jazz had elected to wake Danny up at the horrible time of six-thirty in the morning. Later than the normal five-forty-five, but still way too early to reasonably be awake. Honestly, Danny had thought he was done with getting up with the sun, but Jazz had proved him wrong time and time again for nearly five years now.

She pulled the curtains open, letting in the light from the sun that reflected off the white embodiment of cold. When that only caused him to burrow deeper into his three blankets and two pillows and his dog plush, Jazz decided to pull all three layers off of him.

“Hey!” he yelped, falling off the bed with a thud. “What the heck!”

Jaz dropped the blankets with a smile. “Rise and shine sleeping beauty! Mom and dad are in the lab again-”

“Another ‘breakthrough’?”

“-so I’m making breakfast! What do you want?”

Danny groaned and pulled himself off the floor, resetting the blankets on his bed in a mock of making it look neat. “Something warm.”

“How does hot chocolate and pancakes sound?”

“Can I have coffee instead?”

“No.”

“Dang.”

Jazz shook her head and left the room. “Don’t go back to sleep, okay? I wanna go to the library today.” She didn’t close the door behind her.

“Isn’t it closed today?” he called into the hall.

“Tomorrow!”

“Ah.” He closed the door himself, letting out a small puff of air. Turning to the room at large with his hands on his hips, Danny sighed. It was gonna be a long day. The first thing he did was straighten out his bed so it looked properly not slept in. Just as Mother had taught him. Then, he changed from his pajamas and into some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Leaving his room, he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, only really bothering to push a hand through his hair. Not at all like Mother had taught him, but he really didn’t care right now.

Danny made his way down the stairs sluggishly. He’d never been a morning person, much preferring to stay awake until the early hours of the morning watching stars, but he’d had to hide that little quirk when he was with Grandfather and Mother. He’d realized, about half a year after the Fentons picked him up, that he didn’t need to hide his preference for night over day. Infact, his mom encouraged it! She let him sit up on the roof and stargaze until one or two in the morning before forcing him to bed. And then Jazz got into the habit of waking him at six in the morning for school. He’s definitely run on less sleep than four-ish hours, but he’d rather get as much as he can, which is what breaks are for! Unfortunately, Jazz has it in her head that he has to get up at the same time every day without fail, lest he irreparably mess up his sleeping schedule.

With a groan, he plopped down on his chair - in a bout of pettiness a year and a half after arriving, he carved his name into the wood of the backrest - at the table and laid his head down. His sister worked efficiently on the pancakes as the water for their hot chocolate boiled in the electric kettle.

The two sat and worked in a quiet peace. Jazz’s bustling around the kitchen faded into the background as white noise with the constant hum of electricity throughout the house and the occasional controlled explosion from the basement lab. It was well fortified, so the house wasn’t in danger.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of laying on the table with his eyes closed, Jazz put a plate by Danny’s head, a mug of hot chocolate with a candy cane beside it. Then, she sat opposite him with her own food.

“Thanks,” he mumbled groggily, pulling the food and drink towards him.

“You’re welcome.” Jazz said around a bite.

Danny would be the first to admit that Jazz wasn’t the best cook, but he was also the first to praise her cooking. Jack Fenton couldn’t make anything, that wasn’t fudge, for the life of him. Any food he tries to make, somehow turns to fudge. Kind of like King Midas’ Golden Touch. Maddie Fenton was a pretty good cook, when she remembered to actually feed herself and her family. She could make cookies worthy of the gods, though. Whenever the Fenton parents weren’t in their basement lab for one reason or another, they ordered takeout to eat with their kids. Those times were, unfortunately, few and far between.

Finishing his meal, Danny was wide awake, the food doing wonders for waking him. And, while the caffeine in chocolate was nothing compared to the coffee his dad would sometimes let him drink, there was just enough to wake him up just a bit more. Don’t tell Jazz, though, or she might take away chocolate, too.

“Do you,” he hesitated, the words caught in his throat for a moment, “Do you think mom and dad will be up to celebrating this year?”

When he was seven, he learned that the Fentons didn’t celebrate any holiday, no matter what it was. They had up until Jazz was five, but then work became more important. Jack and Maddie had claimed breakthroughs in their research, pushing everything and everyone aside if it or they didn’t directly help their life’s work.

That same year, he’d been trying to acclimate himself better. One of the biggest things in American culture is holidays, so he decided to ask to celebrate Christmas. It was mainstream and was derived from one of the only holidays he was allowed to celebrate back in Nanda Parbat.

Jack and Maddie had agreed, of course, and he and Jazz had pulled out all the old decorations to dress the house. When December twenty-fourth came around, though, their parents had gotten into a huge fight about whether to tell Danny and Jazz that Santa wasn’t real. Jack had said it was a right of passage for little kids to figure it out all on their lonesome, while Maddie had argued that she wasn’t going to let her children believe in fairy tales that parents tell to get their kids to sleep faster. They were loud enough that Jazz and Danny had both heard every word.

The two tried, every holiday, to get their parents to spend time with them, at least, but it failed every time. Something or other aways came up.

“I don’t know, Danny,” she sighed, putting her fork on her now empty plate, “You can try, but I doubt it.” She’d given up last year, right around the time that she’d picked up on reading parenting books.

Danny didn’t say anything. He simply stood and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink to be washed before putting them away. The dishwasher had been ripped apart and repurposed for parts in the lab.

“I know that you want to celebrate like the other kids in town,” Jazz said from the table, “but mom and dad are way too focused right now. Mom mentioned something about working on the portal some more.”

Danny put the cup down carefully, a loud click sounding through the kitchen. With a controlled breath, he closed his eyes and turned off the tap. “There were exactly two holidays that me and my brother were allowed to celebrate when we were children. Christmas is taken from one of those holidays. Forgive me for just wanting to share a piece of that with them.”

He could feel Jazz’s sad gaze on his back. “What holidays?”

“Forget it,” he shook his head, “Let’s just go to the library.”

She let it drop. “It doesn’t open for a few more hours.”

He started up the stairs. “Then come get me when it’s time to go.” Danny ignored Jazz’s responding sigh as he walked up to his room. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed some paper and a pencil.

In Nanda Parbat, one of the instructors was set to teach Danny and his brother the Fine Arts. From writing to painting to instruments to acting. All so that they could adapt to any mold for any mission. Because they were the heirs, the Demon Twins of the monster that was the organization, they were expected to be perfect. Anything less was punished.

Damian had always excelled at the Arts, especially drawing and its counterparts. He could work with any median, but charcoal had always been his favorite. Danny, too, had excelled with the Arts, but anything that happened on a stage had been his specialty.

Whenever he missed his brother, or any aspect of Before, too much, Danny would sit down and draw. He’d thought about asking his parents for an instrument of some kind, the cello always having been his favorite, but he decided against it. So, he drew. He didn’t have a dedicated sketch book, and no one but himself would ever see anything he made, but it was a nice outlet.

He wondered if Damian did something similar, now that he was with father. Did he play instruments or read plays when he thought of Danny? Did he allow his new siblings to see what he made or listen to his voice?

Three hours passed by in a blink, only one page being covered. It was a nice memory he’d drawn of the blacksmith’s hut away from the main base. In the picture, he and Damian were learning to forge their own daggers. Damian’s had turned out unbalanced and two inches too short. Danny’s had been only half an inch too long with a slightly too short grip.

Jazz knocked on the door as she cracked it open. “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

Danny covered tha paper. “Hey.”

“Are you ready to head out? We can stop by Tasty Burger for lunch?”

“Sure,” he nodded, moving to stand in a way that prevented the paper from showing to Jazz. He hid it in his nightstand to be moved to the box with the others later. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, she led the way.

It was a quick walk, only twenty minutes from their house to the library, but it was cold and bright. The snow only made the area brighter, but it was comfortable to him; familiar. What was really irritating was the cars and the people and the buildings. Danny had been raised very far from all of these things, only ever going near them when on a mission, and it was only a few hours at a time in those instances. No matter how long he lived in a city or town, whatever it was called, though, he would never get used to the noise.

The sidewalks were crowded with holiday shoppers not insane enough to go out on the twenty-fourth, but crazy enough to go out on the twenty-third. The streets were slick and traffic was slow, especially for a morning. Christmas decorations lined every window and tree and building face, holiday music carried on the wind four or five different songs mixing into one over and under the voices of the people on the sidewalks.

“C’mon,” Jazz tugged him into the public library by his hand. She had four books tucked under her arm, two on psychology, one on parenting, and one on dragons.

Danny followed after her, not quite dragging his feet, but making it apparent that he would rather not be there.

“Good morning, you two!” the librarian smiled when they made their way to her desk. She was a cheerful woman, always wearing a smile, though she had never once worn a nametag or introduced herself.

“Good morning!” Jazz matched the woman’s energy with a smile, dropping Danny’s hand and putting the four books up on the counter.

The woman took the books to scan them back into the system. “Are you looking to check out more books today?”

“Yep! Just so I have something to do over Winter Break.”

“You’re a kid, there’s lots for you to do!”

“I know, but I like reading.”

“I get it. Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay, we will!” Jazz took Danny’s hand again and pulled him off into the forest of shelves, straight to the parenting section.

Danny hid his scowl as he watched Jazz search through the parenting books. “You’re twelve, Jazz-”

“Almost thirteen.”

“-you’re not supposed to be looking at these kinds of books until eighteen at the earliest.”

She didn’t stop her search. “You’re eleven, Danny, you should be acting like a kid.”

“But I wasn’t raised as a kid.”

“Exactly why you should take the opportunity now!”

He groaned. It was an ongoing argument between the two. “I don’t need you to look after me, Jazz. We’re both kids, so we should be reading books that kids do! Leave the parenting up to our parents.”

“Our parents who don’t even celebrate holidays?”

“Jazz-”

“Look, Danny, I know you’re worried about me growing up too fast or whatever, but I like these books.” She pulled one off the shelf before turning to look at him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only get one parenting book.”

It didn’t. He’d rather her get none. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna get some psychology books, though, and you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said. She ignored him.

“The human mind is really interesting. Did you know that the size of a human brain has decreased since the time when we were hunters and gatherers?”

“Has it?” He loved when she got like this, talking about things that interest her.

She nodded rapidly. “Mhmm! By a whole ten percent!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And most artists like working at night because humans are more creative during the night rather than during the day.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow in good humor to tell her that he was joking, “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is!” she insisted, leading the way over to the tables in the middle of the large room with two psychology books and a parenting book under her arm. “And, look!” she grabbed a paper and pencil and wrote down ‘Yuo cna’t sotp me form radenig prnatneig bokos.’ in big letters. “Because we read words instead of individual letters, as long as the first and last letters are in the proper spots, and all the letters are there, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the word looks like, especially if you’ve been reading for a while or if you’re reading fast. You’re still able to read the word as though it were completely correct.”

“That’s actually really cool.”

“Right?” Her grin was so worth it. Her grin would always be worth it. “C’mon, let’s go get yo some books now.”

Danny grabbed Jazz’s hand and led the way this time. He took them over to the books about space and started to look through them. He’d always loved space as a whole, but stars had always held a special place for him.

He picked a book about astrology. “I heard some of the girls at school talking about magic and stuff and how people’s personalities are affected by what star sign they were born under.”

Jazz scrunched her nose a bit. “I’ve heard some people at school talk about that stuff, too. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’d be worth a look.” He took another book off the shelf, this one talking about both ancient and modern witchcraft. “The psychological implications are interesting, too.” That would get her to show a bit more interest.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She paused. “Mind if I take a look when you’re done?”

“I’d be happy to have a whole conversation about it when we’ve both finished reading our books.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The last stop before checking out their chosen books was in the fairy tail section of the library. Their dad loved fairy tales, but their mom refused to let them have any of the books in the house. She claimed that there was no such thing as magic and that any ‘magic’ was done by ghosts. Danny had to hide his amusement whenever that particular argument was bright up because he knew for a fact that the supernatural and magic go hand in hand more often than not. He wasn’t about to tell her that, though.

The book they chose was one they both wanted to read, not wanting to risk mom finding one fairy tale in the house, let alone two. It was a compilation of the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. Dark stories, they both knew, but that just made them all the more enticing.

Checking out went much the same as checking in, with the added bonus of the librarian giving them a cloth tote bag to carry their six books in. She also gave them the name of a small magic shop on the other side of town that had some tarot cards in stock if Danny was interested.

As promised, Jazz had taken some money from their mom’s purse to stop by the Tasty Burger for lunch. They both ordered the chicken nuggets and a milkshake, Jazz getting chocolate and Danny getting strawberry. Then, when they were done eating, they walked hand in hand back to their home.

Danny stopped at the mailbox, not moving to follow Jazz or to open the thing. Did he dare check? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What if Damian hadn’t gotten the letter like he both feared and hoped? What if he had? Would there be a response? Would Damian ever want a relationship with him?

“Hey,” Jazz tugged his hand, “What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, a show of nervousness that would’ve been punished in Nanda Parbat. He inhaled. “What if there’s no response? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? It’s been almost five years.”

It took a moment before Jazz clocked what he was talking about. She let go of his hand to hold his shoulders. “How about this; You go inside and wait and I’ll get the mail, okay?”

Danny nodded and slowly trudged into the house. Why had he even sent that stupid letter? He flopped onto the couch. Damian probably hates him for not returning to his side.

He didn’t have time to mope any longer because Jaz threw the front door open with a shout. “Danny!” She was suddenly right beside him, shoving a letter into his hands. “There’s a letter for you!”

After a moment to process, Danny’s shaky hands ripped the envelope open and pulled out the paper inside. The single sheet was folded into three perfect rectangles, the black ink of a pen unsmudged and perfectly spaced. Just as Mother had taught.

***

Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton,                         Dec. 21, 2011

You have a very extravagant story. Whatever made you believe that exchanging letters was the most secure way of contact? An idiotic move that my brother would, unfortunately, absolutely make. Either you are him, or you are a clone. Either way, I’m not likely to believe you, so do not mistake this as such. Your admitted honesty is welcomed, though not believed.

My welcome into the Wayne Family was quite a public affair and aired all over the country, so I guess I should thank you for the congratulations, as is socially acceptable in this situation as well as others like it. Bruce Wayne being my father is not a surprise, given his public image and his tendency to take any stray whelp he sees into his home. Though I will have you know that I am the only blood child in the household.

Announcing your stalling while writing a letter is completely unnecessary, especially as that was your first correspondence. Had you simply left that out, I would never have been the wiser. Another mistake you’ve made in accordance with my brother.

Having read over your letter several times, I have come to several conclusions. With the resources I have at my disposal, I have determined that there is a good chance you are who you say you are. Understanding who I am, and who my brother is, the rest of this response is written under the foolish  ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶ assumption that you are who you claim to be.

I could never hate you, Danyal, nor could I ever ignore this chance I have been presented with. Getting out was the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. Coming back from that mission, having failed and lost you, broke something in Mother. She was both harsher and more clingy, hovering whenever she could and pushing more than ever. Grandfather was even less pleased that you hadn’t returned, though he only ever acknowledged you as a failure and a mistake. He made it known that he would’ve killed you, had you ever miraculously returned to Nanda Parbat.

I am glad that you got help. I am glad that you are living safely and that you have found a place to be at peace.

You are a coward, but you are more deserving of praise and forgiveness than you seem to believe. I thought you had died on that mission, Danyal. For that, I can’t ever forgive you, but I could never hate you. I can forgive you for making me return on my own. I can forgive you for being selfish and leaving me alone, but I will never forgive you for making me mourn you. You hurt me in ways that I never thought I could ever be hurt, in ways that I may never be hurt again.

Grandfather and Mother never allowed a grave to be made. They didn’t let me keep anything of yours either. They erased you. It was like you had never been there. I was never allowed to properly mourn you. That alone almost ended me.

Father knows nothing of you. Mother did not tell him, nor will I. I did not wish to make him or our siblings mourn a child they would never meet. If you so choose to tell him, then you may. I, however, will not be playing the messenger.

أرجو أن تسامحني على اعتقادي بأنك ميت. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أحزن عليك كما ينبغي. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أبحث عنك، فالعودة لم تكن خياراً متاحاً. كان يجب أن أجعله خياراً                     Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic :: Thank you for being my brother.

Translation 2 - Romanian :: Damn it!

Translation 3 - Arabic :: Please forgive me for thinking you were dead. Please forgive me for not mourning you properly. Please forgive me for not looking for you, coming back was not an option. I should have made it an option

Storyboard Part 2 Artwork

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Dec. 24, 2011

Your forgiveness is more than I ever could’ve asked for. I still don’t think I deserve it, but I will take what you have given me, ahki.

You writing back was unexpected, but I’m so glad you did! Though, I guess this isn’t very secure, huh. Oh, well! As long as nothing incriminating is written down, we should be fine.

How’s father? And your siblings? I understand there are three kids father’s adopted. Also, what about your extracurriculars? Anything exciting going on that you can tell me about? It’s boring, crime wise, where I’m at. No murder mysteries or sex scandals or huge break-ins. Not that I want any of those to happen, but it’d be really fun to get to follow a case that isn’t twelve years old or four states over.

How are you adjusting at all, actually? It was a big culture shock for me for a while, especially because no one here speaks Arabic. Can you believe that? Some of the others still think I made up an entire language just to mess with them! I haven’t been able to speak with someone in our mother tongue in a while, but I’ve been trying not to forget any of it! Even if there’s an accent coming through.

Tell me about your life. Not what the media says. I want to know the real you. Do you have friends? Any pets? What about hobbies? Do you still have that dagger I made you that one time?

Anyway, I gotta go now. I hope to hear from you soon!

I don’t know what holiday(s) father and your siblings celebrate, so I’ll wish you a happy all of them!

سأسامحك دائماً يا أخي لقد وُضعت في أسوأ الاحتمالات وبذلت قصارى جهدك بما كان لديك من معرفة. كنت ستعرض نفسك للخطر فقط إذا عدت.

Danny Fenton

***

Danny had wasted no time in writing a response. Was he going to come off as eager? Probably, but he didn’t really care. His brother had responded to him! Granted, he thinks this is a trick, but there’s some part of Damian that believes Danny’s alive! He forgives him for not going home! It’s more than Danny could’ve ever allowed himself to hope for.

But, gods was he awkward! He hadn’t let Jazz read the letter at all. She didn’t know what he said the first time, she didn’t know what the response said, and she wasn’t ever going to read any of them if he had any say in the matter. Yes, they’re siblings and he loves her just as much as he loves Damian, but this was something she didn’t have any business poking her nose into. He liked to think that Damian would likewise keep this from his own siblings, though he’d totally understand if Dami shared purely because of the suspicious circumstances.

Anyway, Danny had read and re-read Damian’s letter for hours, trying to come up with the best response, only stopping when Jazz called him down for dinner. Sleep hadn’t come easily, either, because of the adrenaline from actually getting a response. He’d hoped he’d get one, but he was also sure that he wouldn’t get one.

But why did he have to be so awkward writing back? Damian’s his brother, not a total stranger! Damian probably wouldn’t care. Danny’s always been like that, awkward at all the wrong times. He’s just gotten used to not hiding it since he left, though it had taken a while.

He has to wonder, though, if Damian is with father, does this mean he’s left the Shadows? How had he done it? Obviously, he hadn’t faked his death. Father is a very public figure, so anything short of Damian leaving a massacre behind him as he left the Shadows would be unlikely. Unless he is still with the Shadows? In which case, Danny’s just doomed himself. Sure, the PO box was set up in the town over, and maybe he struck up a deal to have the letters sent from there to his house, but that wasn’t going to stop ninja assassins. Nothing short of death would stop ninja assassins!

No! Bad Danny! No use having second thoughts now; It’s too late. He just has to hope for the best. Gods, was he hoping, wishing on stars and everything! He wanted this to work out. He wanted to have a relationship with his older brother-

Damn, he’s still the younger sibling. He hadn’t thought much of it before, but both Jazz and Damian are older than him! If he counts father’s children, which he does only to prove his point this one time, then he’s the youngest of six kids! That’s not fair. Who decided that was a fair trade? Could be worse, he supposed. He could be stuck as a middle sibling. Shutter the thought.

“Danny?” Jazz opened the door with a knock, “You ready to send that letter?”

He groaned into his pillow. “I already did.”

“Really?” she wondered, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah,” he rolled over to face her, “Finished it this morning and shipped it off.”

Jazz hummed. “I still don’t get why you won’t let me read them. I could totally help you with spelling and stuff!”

Danny sat up and stared at her with a dead look. “Jazz, I was taught by people who were the best of the best in their fields. There isn’t a single thing you could do to help me write or read those letters.”

“Why not?”

“Because they aren’t in English.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes you are! I saw the one you got! It was in English!” She paused. “Except for that last bit. That just looked like a bunch of squiggles.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “That wasn’t a bunch of squiggles, Jazz. It was Arabic, my mother tongue.”

“First,” she adjusted to sit criss-cross on the foot of his bed, “Never say ‘mother tongue’ again; it sounds weird. Second, the simple solution is to teach me Arabic.”

Danny had to pause for a second to let the words register in his head. “You-you want to learn Arabic?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I mean, it can’t be that hard, right?”

“Yes it can,” he sighed, “You’d have to learn a whole new alphabet of letters and sounds. It’s not a Latin based language like English or Spanish.”

“I can do it!”

“I don’t doubt that, but I think an easier language would be better.”

She huffed. “You just don’t wanna share.”

True, but, “I could teach you Romanian? It’s a Latin derived language, like English, so it’s got the same alphabet.”

“Fine,” she agreed after a moment, “Where do we start?”

“Kids!” their dad called from the kitchen, “We have something for you!”

Danny and Jazz shared a grimace. “Down stairs, apparently,” he said. Quickly, they left the room and made their way down the stairs and to the kitchen. Their parents probably didn’t have any actual gifts for them, so they weren’t going to get their hopes up.

They were right, of course. Jack and Maddie Fenton were creatures of habit and obsession; workaholics, in simpler terms.

The two kids joined their parents at the table. “Mom,” Jazz greeted, “Dad.”

“Jazzypants!” Jack smiled, his voice booming, “Dann-o!”

“What’s up?” Danny asked. He wanted to go back to his room and stew over what he’d just sent to his brother. Seriously? ‘I’ll wish you a happy all of them?’ That’s so stupid! Beyond stupid, actually! He wanted to curl up and die. Can people die of embarrassment?

Maddie smiled kindly at her children, somehow matching her husband’s energy but not his volume. “We had another breakthrough in our research.”

“Oh?” Danny had been intrigued by the [now] Drs. Fenton’s research. It was all theoretical, of course, but they claimed to have proof of base for their research. He’d never seen it before, and they’d never offered to show him or Jazz, but they mentioned it in all of their papers. He’d never deemed it worth anything, so it had been pushed behind relevant information like literally anything else.

He still didn’t know how they’d gotten those papers published. They were the laughing stocks of the scientific and occult communities! An accomplishment in and of itself, really.

“Yes,” his mother nodded, “But that’s not what we called you two down to discuss.”

“It’s not? Jazz tilted her head to the side.

“Nope!” Jack’s smile somehow got bigger. “We’ve decided that the both of you are old enough-”

“-and responsible enough.” Maddie added.

“-do go down and see the lab!”

Jazz and Danny had two very different reactions to this statement. Danny was a bit excited to get to see whatever held his parents’ attention at all hours of the day. Jazz, on the other hand, was furious.

“What!” she demanded.

Jack and Maddie didn’t seem to even register her anger. “You two have both proven yourselves responsible in your school and house work, so we figured it was time to let you two in on the family business.”

“But, I don’t want to do lab work!” Jazz objected, now standing with her hands on the table and her chair pushed back aggressively.

“Nonsense,” Maddie waved her off easily, “You’ll love it. Besides, you’ve always wanted to help us in the lab, ever since you were a child.”

Jazz just screamed in outrage. “I’ve never said that!”

She was ignored. “Of course, we’ll have to go over the proper safety measures so that neither of you gets hurt.” Jack stated.

Throwing her hands up, Jazz stormed away from the table and stomped up to her room, the door slamming behind her. Danny has no doubts that she’s locked herself in.

“She must be tired,” Jack smiled fondly, “We’ve got some work to finish up down stairs, Dann-o, but we’ll be back up for dinner, alright?”

Danny nodded and the two left. Quietly, he whispered, “Liar.” to the empty main floor.

***

Danyal Fenton Dec. 27, 2011

Your definition of ‘incriminating’ must be wrong. You reaching out in the first place would’ve put us both in danger had your letter been intercepted. The same remains true for every letter we exchange, though I will not be the one to put a stop to the communication. It is nice to have physical evidence of your conversations, no matter how much time passes between each response.

I am still skeptical that you are my brother, but, as I said in my last letter, I will continue on with a shade pulled over my eyes, ahki.

I have done some research while living with father. My own experiences prove at least some of what they say is true. I never truly believed you had died. I always had a feeling that you were alive somewhere, safe, out of reach of Grandfather and Mother.

Father is well. In public, he is outgoing, drunk, clumsy, able to start a conversation from nothing and let it trail off into a slightly more useful nothing. In truth, he is standoffish, strong, able to talk circles around anyone. He is always ready for a fight and always prepared for the worst. He does not like surprises.

We have four siblings, and one honorary sibling. Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake, Cassandra Cain, and Stephanie Brown. Grayson is more outgoing than the others, though he has been with Father the longest, so he is just as skilled as him. Todd was dead and refuses to communicate with Father. Drake is smart, but that is all he has going for him. Cain was raised in the League like us, though not at any of the bases we ever visited. Brown was dating Drake, but has since become more of a sister to the Manor.

Alfred Pennyworth is the family butler. He raised Father and continues to stand by his side. He is a formidable foe, though I have yet to see him in actual combat. He, aside from Father and myself, is the most competent resident of Wayne Manor.

Again, you need to reassess your definition of ‘incriminating’. There is nothing I can share, without consequence, that hasn’t already been made public by the GCPD. I will say, however, that my position as the superior child remains unchallenged. Not that any of those bastards Father has taken in would ever pose any kind of challenge to me or you.

I must ask, you know where I am, so is it not fair that you tell me where you are? The return address you have used leads to a PO box in Elmerton, Illinois, but I doubt that’s where you really are. Your description of ‘boring’ in regards to the crime rate is fully expected of anywhere when compared to Gotham, though that goes nearly doubly so for the midwest.

It was a shock to me as well, though I have been handling it. None of the others have noticed any unease, so I will take it. It will not do to show weakness in the face of enemies. I can agree, however, that the lack of use of Arabic is disappointing. I do not fear that I will ever forget the language or our home, but I do regret to say that I have encountered similar problems you have.

Father insists that I go to school with others my age to ‘socialize’, though I do not see the point. It’s all thinly veiled insults from the adults we are placed in the charge of. I am much smarter than my peers, so I have not been able to have a single intelligent conversation with any of them. The exception, however, being Jon Kent. He is adequate company. Our Father and his father are friends.

I have a cat named Alfred, after the butler. I would like to get a dog, but Father has denied my request. I have, however, managed to hide Goliath in the cave. Father knows he is there, but the others remain oblivious.

As for hobbies, art is the only one worth mentioning. I have several sets of paints and colors and pencils, though I remain partial to charcoal. Paper is the easiest to use, but I prefer canvas.

Of course I still have that dagger, Danyal. I have many weapons, but that is the only one that has never left my person.

Father is Jewish, though he was raised Catholic, and is an atheist; Grayson is Christian; Todd was raised Catholic, but is atheist; Drake was born to a Christian mother, but he follows after his father as an atheist; Neither Cain nor Brown were born into religious families, so they don’t follow any religion, as far as I’m aware.

Pennyworth has decorated the Manor for all of the holidays, though the only tradition I’ve actually seen practiced is the gift exchange from Christmas.

Honestly, you must work on your formatting. You give almost no information in exchange for your questions getting answers. It makes your letters very short. So, I will turn all of your questions back on you. I expect them to be answered sufficiently.

أفضل ما لدي لم يكن جيداً بما فيه الكفاية كنت أعلم أنك لا تزال على قيد الحياة، ومع ذلك لم أفعل شيئًا سوى نشر كذبة وفاتك.

Damian Wayne

***

The letter was a surprise, especially considering it’s a page and a half, though he should’ve expected it. He found it hilarious that the first thing Dami had done this time was to insult him. At least he’d waited a few lines in the last letter! It hurt a bit that Damian still thought this was a trick, but Danny couldn’t find it in himself to blame him. He’d’ve acted the same way if their roles were reversed.

He liked hearing about Damian’s family. They’re so different compared to what the media says. Then again, he expected that. Most people are hardly ever exactly how they’re portrayed to bigger audiences. The Drs. Fenton being an exception.

And, yeah, he knew Dami was going to search the address, but did he really have to come out and say it like that? At least he knew the Shadows (League?) hadn’t gotten in the middle, otherwise he’d’ve been cut down by now. Small blessings.

Ah, Goliath the dragon bat. Danny remembers when they got Goliath. Hiding him was hard, but they managed. Though, he’s fairly certain that Mother knew they had him hidden in the caves of Nanda Parbat. That does beg the question, though, of how the hell Damian managed to get a - by now - fully grown dragon bat across continents and into a cave in New Jersey without being spotted? Did he even really want to know? Probably not.

Danny could remember the expression on Damian’s face when he realized that Goliath was getting bigger. They’d found him on their first mission for Grandfather after leaving the group that had been sent with them. They’d kept him moving between their rooms when they got back, never keeping him in one for more than a night before moving him to the other. Then suddenly, the creature they’d found that was no bigger than their forearms was as long as their arms from shoulder to fingertip! They had only been able to keep Goliath between their rooms for another month before having to hide him in the caves under Nanda Parbat.

And the food! Goliath, even as a baby dragon bat, could eat triple his body weight. It was a wonder no one found him! How does Damian keep him fed? And how have his siblings not noticed the dragon under their house? Thoughts for another time.

Danny closed his book as he finished it. It was the astrology one, clearly written for people new to the topic, but he wasn’t complaining. It was easy to understand and he found himself actually enjoying it more than he originally anticipated. He could see why the girls in his class liked it, too. He could see himself falling deeper into this rabbit hole, but he wasn’t upset about that.

He moved on to read the second book he’d gotten, the one about witchcraft. Briefly, he chuckled at the image that he was slowly coming to see as his future. “A witch,” he hummed with a smile, “Mother would be so disappointed.”

The book opened up with a brief history about the topic before going into a deep dive about different practices and how things had changed and improved throughout history. It also gave names to famous witches and witch hunters, one that he recognized.

Jack Fenton, about three years after Danny had been taken in by the family, had given Danny a full rundown of his and Maddie’s family histories. Fentonightingale had been the family name until Jack’s great-grandfather had changed it to Fenton when he married. John Fentonightingale was a well known witch hunter in Salem, Massachustes in 1600. He was best known for eating a slow acting poison in the form of - now extinct - flowers as evidence against an unnamed witch on trial. He died shortly thereafter, leaving his grieving wife and children.

The humor was not lost to Danny. “Looks like dad’ll be disappointed, too.”

“Knock, knock?” Jazz asked from the hallway, knocking her knuckle on his bedroom door.

“Yeah?” he called back, closing his book and putting it down.

Jazz opened the door. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been hiding out here all day. No plans with Sam or Tucker?”

Danny shook his head. “Nah. Tuck’s spending the break with his family and Sam’s been forced to go to a rich person party somewhere in Washington.”

“DC?”

“State.”

“She’s not too far.”

“Too far for an emergency extraction.”

“You sound like she’s gonna get killed or something.”

Danny snorted. “Don’t jinx it, Jazzercise.”

“I’m not gonna jinx it, Danimal.” She leaned against the door frame. “Besides, even if she did die, she’d come back as a ghost just to haunt you.”

He groaned and flopped over onto his side. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“Why, ‘cause I’m right?” He groaned again. She laughed. “Alright, Dannibal Lector, since you’re obviously bored out of your mind, you wanna come watch a movie with me?”

“And risk mom and dad dragging us down into the lab?” He sat up, “No thanks.”

“Come on,” she goaded, “It’ll be fun! I’ll even let you pick the movie!”

“Hmmmm. A documentary on ghost hunting or a mockumentary on ghost hunting? Such a hard decision.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “Come on, D! You can’t stay locked in here forever.”

“Actually, J, I think I can. I’ve got food, water, and entertainment. I’ll be fine.”

“What about when you have to pee or shower?”

“I’ll put a bucket in the corner and dump it out the window.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“And rainwater is clean enough.”

“It’s literally not, though.”

“Well, I won’t know unless I try.”

“You’re not gonna live in here by yourself!”

“Why? You wanna join me? Sorry, but there’s only enough pillows for a one person fort.”

She snorted and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What’s hard to believe? Unless you’ve got pillows hidden up your-” He cut himself off with an exaggerated and mocking gasp. “Jazz! Do you have pillows hidden up your ass?”

“Danny!” she scolded, but her tone was fond, “Watch your language, brat!”

“What?” he giggled, “It’s a genuine question.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, “No, I do not have pillows shoved up my ass.”

“Language!” he mocked.

“Are you gonna come watch a movie with me or not?”

“Sure, sure,” he stood, “But if we get dragged down to the lab, I’m blaming you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

*

Danny was right. He was right and he was never listening to Jazz ever again. He could live in his room until he turned eighteen! That was totally something he could do. It wasn’t like he’d been raised to survive off of less in less space.

Instead of watching a movie they’d seen a million times before, the siblings had decided to watch YouTube on the TV. Halfway into Episode 4 of Buzzfeed Unsolved, their parents came up and dragged them down to the lab to show them their breakthrough from the previous night.

Looking at it, it was much less a breakthrough and more of ‘getting closer to the final picture’. The Ghost Portal had been a project that Jack and Maddie had been working on since college. A friend of theirs had gotten sent to the hospital for this project and had yet to be released. What had given them the idea that this was safe to build in their basement, let alone show their children? Regardless, it was too late now, so Danny and Jazz were forced to roll with it.

“We’re almost done with it!” Jack looked like a proud parent when he was looking at the thing.

The Ghost Portal, as it was now, was built directly into the furthermost wall of the basement. It wasn’t load bearing, thank the gods. The portal was ten feet deep, seven and a half feet tall, octagonal in shape. The paneling that covered the walls and ceiling was black with electric blue circuitry cutting through them. The blank spots where the paneling was not put up were gray, matching the cement floor of the lab. There were some work lights inside, white LED strips that lined the bottom seams where the floor met the walls. The floor itself was made of black tile and nearly completely covered in loose cables and unfinished paneling. There was a red button in place of one of the missing side panels that screamed ‘accident waiting to happen’.

“What is it?” Jazz asked, not daring to go closer than the stair doorway. Danny didn’t blame her.

“It’s the Ghost Portal, Jazzy!” Maddie’s grin was huge, taking up nearly her whole face. “We’ve nearly got it finished.”

“Yep!” Jack nodded excitedly, “All we’ve got left to do is finish the inside paneling, build the outer frame, and turn her on!”

“What about powering it?” Danny wondered just as Jazz said, “‘Her’?”

Jack still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the thing. “She’s already connected to the power grid; That’s why the circuitry in the paneling is glowing, see?”

Danny picked his way through the papers cluttering the table next to him, finding the portal’s blueprints on the very bottom. The handwriting in the margins was messy, obviously from two people and taking up almost every inch of the paper. The schematics of the portal itself was done in white and much neater than the black ink from his parents’ handwriting. A third person, probably their college friend, had been the one to draw the thing with the first basic formuli. Overall, it was messy and a hazard to look at.

“Are, uh, you guys sure that this won’t blow up our house?” Danny asked, unable to keep from scrunching his nose up at the sight of the blueprints.

“Positive.” Maddie sounded so serious, like it was the absolute truth.

“You wanna check out the inside?” Jack asked, practically bouncing like an excited puppy.

Jazz was quick to shake her head, going so far as to take a step back into the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Before Danny could follow her lead, though, Jack grabbed Danny and pulled him forwards.

“Go on,” the giant man urged.

Gulping, Danny complied. He was so going to lock himself in his room now. He didn’t plan on leaving until Sam and Tucker were both back in town! “Alright.” He hoped his hesitation was obvious enough for his parents to get the cue that he did not want to be doing this. Unfortunately, neither picked up on it. Jazz did, but she wasn’t about to risk moving closer in case Jack or Maddie got the idea of shoving her towards the thing, too.

Danny had a bad feeling about this.

Stepping into the tunnel that was the portal was like walking into a different world. Somehow, even though he was only half a foot in and there was light on all sides, it was dark in there. The blue from the paneling was nearly nonexistent, and the white LEDs lining the floor were so dim that they were useless. Was this a purposeful thing? How was this possible?

The cables and cords that had been visible from the outside were almost invisible in the somehow lower lighting of the portal tunnel, same with the unfinished wall panels on the floor. And, as a result of the hazardous mess on the floor and the near pitch dark, Danny tripped halfway through. His training didn’t let him fall, but his inability to keep up the rigorous schedule he’d been raised on made him reach out to steady himself on the wall.

Millimeters before his fingers so much as grazed the button he’d not been able to see after crossing the threshold, Danny heard the barely there whisper of “Time Out.” followed almost immediately by “Time in.” at the same volume.

Catching himself on the cold, softly glowing paneling of the wall, Danny was quick to straighten out and turn around. That thing gave him the creeps and he would much rather go back to reading his book, thank you.

“So, Dann-o?” Jack clapped his shoulder when he got back to them, “What’d ya think?”

Unable to disappoint the people he’d come to see as his parents, Danny plastered a smile on his face and said, “It’s pretty cool. I can’t wait to see what it looks like when it’s finished!”

Maddie cheered. “Right? As soon as it’s done, those assholes at Harvard will have to take us seriously!”

Danny seriously doubted they would. In fact, he doubted the portal would even work at all. It’s a hypothetical experiment that had the potential and huge likelihood of going catastrophically wrong. How much power would it take to even turn the thing on? Several city blocks at least, right? If that blows up, it'll take out not only their house, but probably half the city and everyone within the blast radius.

Danny should report this to somebody.

“That’s not even the best part!” Jack exclaimed, hurting over to what looked like an electrical box that had been set into the unfinished walls of the basement lab. Opening the small metal door revealed a hand scanner that Jack quickly placed his hand on. After five seconds, a small compartment just above the scanner opened up. Inside was a small glass phial of thick, glowing green liquid. Liquid that Danny recognised.

Shit.

“This is what’s gonna power the portal after the initial launch,” Jack explained, his voice reverent as he cradled the phial in his large hands, “Ectoplasm.”

Ecto-what? Danny knew that glowing liquid. He’d only seen it once, but he knew what it was. He could say, with full confidence and  a puffed chest, that what his dad was currently holding was a phial of Lazarus Water. The color and consistency were the same as the Pits. The stuff even glowed like the Pit Water! It was terrifying that Danny had encountered any of the stuff this far from the Shadows, and he found himself taking several steps back toward Jazz.

“That’s, um, that’s-”

“Awesome, dad!” Jazz said for him, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pulling him back. He was so glad she had because he was sure he was seconds away from freezing in place. “Danny’s getting tired, though, and I’m a bit hungry, so we’re gonna head back upstairs now. Is that alright?”

“Sounds great, sweetie,” Maddie waved the two off in a clear dismissal, “We’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Danny rushed up the stairs, waiting for Jazz in the kitchen. When she joined him she muttered, “Liar.” under her breath before closing the door. “So,” she said to Danny.

“So.” he repeated.

“What made you so freak out down there?” she asked, “Not that I blame you. That portal thing freaked me out, too.”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“It’s not healthy to bottle things up, Danny.”

“I know, I just don’t want to talk about it right now,” Or ever. “Bad memories.”

Jazz’s expression softened. “Alright,” she nodded, “Do you want some chips?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna go to my room.”

“You can’t hide in there forever!”

He was halfway up the stairs. “I can try!”

Translation 1 - Arabic :: I will always forgive you, brother. You were put in the worst possible situation and you did the best you could with the knowledge you had. You would have only jeopardized yourself if you went back.

Translation 2 - Arabic :: My best wasn't good enough. I knew you were still alive, yet I did nothing but spread the lie of your death.

Part 1 Part 3

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Dec. 31, 2011

Ha! I sent the last letter of the year! How satisfying victory is.

Anyway, I know exactly what ‘incriminating’ means! I just really wanted to talk to you. It’s been five years since we last saw each other, let alone talked to each other, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Life is- It’s different out here. It’s so much bigger than we thought. There’s so many people and things and places to explore! I didn’t have anyone to talk to when I first got here. I wasn’t about to let you go through this huge adjustment alone. I know I waited a year, but we’ve already established that I’m a coward.

I’m curious, though, about the research you’ve done. What was it for? A project with father? Your own interest? Pray tell.

Questions! You flipped them back at me, so I hope my answers are to your satisfaction, ahki! Though, I don’t exactly remember what questions I asked, so I’m going off of your own answers.

My parents, as I assume you’re wanting to know about them, are less parents and more fosters. They haven’t ever offered to actually adopt me, but they haven’t thought of sending me to a different foster home. Not that I’m really complaining. There are places a lot worse than this place that I’d rather not risk going to, especially because these guys are the perfect example of where Grandfather and Mother would never think of looking for me if they had even an inkling that I was still alive.

Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton are who I’m staying with. Not quite as famous as father and you and your siblings, but they are still quite well known for all the wrong reasons. They’re known as crackpots in the scientific community; laughing stocks. I have to admit, though, that their research is interesting. I don’t believe a word they have ever written or spoken about the subject, seeing as they have almost no proof of any of it, but it’s interesting. I recently got to see the little phial of “proof” that they have. It looks exactly like the Pit Water. Best to keep Grandfather and Mother as far away from them as possible.

Jazz, short for Jasmine, insists that I call her big sister. I would say it out loud, but it feels weird. I’ve never had a big sister before, are they supposed to be this pushy? She’s been studying psychology and reading parenting books since about two months after I got here. I’m worried. She won’t listen to me, though. Says that she’s older, so she knows best and that I shouldn’t worry about anything because she’s got it handled. She refuses to understand that I lost the option to be a “normal” kid when I was born.

I live in Amity Park, Illinois, a few miles from Elmerton, actually. I didn’t want the Drs. or Jazz getting ahold of our letters, and I couldn’t set up a P.O. Box here in Amity for some reason, so I went and set one up in Elmerton! The Drs. don’t really notice me and Jazz too often, I actually think that they literally forgot that I was neither their child nor adopted, so it’s really easy to take a bike out of town. Sure, it’s almost two hours each way, but it’s more than worth it. Then again, I also have a delivery deal set up with one of the staff there, so I don’t always have to go all that way.

Going to school was a good idea at the time, but now I just find it unnecessary. Like you, none of the others can really keep up. I don’t want to call attention to myself, though, so I’m not gonna complain too loudly. Though, keeping my grades exactly average is a really fun challenge. I hate P.E., though. Way too boring. If I could, I’d sleep through it. I’ve two friends, though! Tuck and Sam are cool. Tuck’s my ride or die, and Sam mostly hangs out because her parents disapprove of our friendship. She says she’s sticking it to the man, which I get.

I want to get a dog, but I don’t think it’d be safe to stay in the house. Or on the property. The Drs. seem to think that lab safety is a suggestion. OSHA’s a good topic to stay far away from. On the bright side, though, Jazz won’t have to pay taxes when she grows up, so...

Lets see, I don’t have a lot of hobbies; nothing ever really caught my interest after I got here. I didn’t really actually relax until just before we turned ten. Constant vigilance doesn’t leave time for anything else. Though, I still like the stars. Jazz got me an encyclopedia about stars and space and stuff last year! There’s so many more stories I’ve learned that I want to share with you!

Have you met Martian Manhunter? Or Superman? Or Green Lantern? What am I talking about, of course you have! I’m so jealous. Do you think you could get me an autograph from them or something? No, that’s a stupid thing to ask. You guys are technically coworkers. Boo.

I’m glad you still have it, though I don’t know why you’d keep it on you; It’s wooden! It’s not very sharp, either. More likely to break before it broke skin.

I guess weapon making could be a hobby? But I haven’t really indulged since I left. Sure, I’ve whittled a few shanks, but those are easy. Would you like another dagger? One that’s actually sharp and more likely to do damage to your opponent?

That’s cool about the holidays and stuff. I was kinda hoping, last year, to get to learn more about American cultures and holidays, but I don’t think the yelling and fighting and the food biting back are normal. Me and Jazz did a gift exchange, though! She got me a rocket puzzle and I got her the Chronicles of Narnia. I want to celebrate the Solstice next year, though. Both Summer and Winter.

Were my answers to your satisfaction, Your Highness? /j

Danny Fenton

***

In a town as small as Amity Park, the New Year Celebration was a big deal. Any holiday that involved fireworks was a big deal, but New Years happened to be the biggest one. The biggest park in the city, right in the edge of the residential area, was decorated for the occasion, just as it was for every holiday. Black and gold streamers lined the fences; the pavilions were all decorated to the T; food and drinks were set out buffet style, every family having brought something to share; picnic blankets and lawn and camping chairs had been scattered around the place; people mingled; children ran around every which way; and the fire department had set up a pyrotecnic’s area in the road to shoot off fireworks as soon as the time switched over into the New Year.

“A shame Sam’s stuck in Washington,” Tucker said between sips of his hot chocolate.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, “Amity Park has the best New Years celebration.”

“I know, right! We get to set off fireworks! Do you know how many other places in the world celebrate New Years with fireworks?”

Danny knew. Of course Danny knew. Tucker told him the same thing every year. It was almost like a tradition at this point. “One?”

“Zero-!” He blinked. “One?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. China ushers in the new year with fireworks to ward off evil spirits.”

Tucker grinned. “That’s so cool, dude! How do you know that?”

Because they have this exact conversation every year. “I like mythology. A lot of it ties into the stars.”

Tucker snorted, “Of course. Don’t you ever get tired of learning the same things about space? Most of it is empty anyway.”

Danny shook his head slightly, very happy to get to talk about his special interest. “That’s why it’s called ‘space’, Tuck. And, no, none of the stories are the same across mythologies and cultures. Some are similar, sure, but none of them are the same.” He pointed to a cluster of stars. “Like Orion the Hunter. In Greek Mythology, he declared that he’d kill all of the animals that roamed the Earth. Gaea, Earth Herself, obviously didn’t like that, so she sent Scorpio to kill him. When Orion died, Zeus turned him and Scorpio into stars, forever locking them in battle. But, in Chinese Mythology, Orion doesn’t have a story. Instead Orion the Hunter is called Shen Xiu, ‘Shen’ meaning ‘Three’ and ‘Xiu’ meaning ‘Place for rest’. The three stars that make up his belt are where the moon rests in Chinese Myths.”

“What about the Zodiacs?”

“Which ones?”

“Um, the Twelve Zodiacs? You should know about them, man, since you’re obsessed with stars and stuff.”

“I am not obsessed!” Danny defended, “And, yes, I do know the Twelve Zodiacs, but China has different Zodiacs they recognize.”

“Well that’s not confusing at all.”

“It’s really not.”

“Sarcasm, dude.”

“I know, but they aren’t that hard to keep track of once you know all their stories.”

“Yeah? Then please, enlighten me.”

Danny settled into his seat, shifting to look better at his best friend. Tucker, who was almost done with his hot chocolate, also turned to face him better. “Okay, so, I’ll start off with the Chinese Zodiac because their story is easier to explain. Millenia ago, the Jade Emperor, Yudi, the ruler of heaven, decided that there should be a way to measure the passage of time, so he created a calendar. He invited all earthly creatures to participate in a race. The first twelve to cross the finish line would be granted a place on the calendar. The Rat knew its size would be a disadvantage, so it convinced the Ox to carry it. At the last moment, the Rat leapt off the head of the Ox, taking first and forcing the Ox into second place. Next were the Tiger and the Rabbit. Then, despite its ability to fly, the Dragon came in fifth because it had stopped to help some villagers on the way. The Horse was startled into seventh place when the Snake slithered past it into sixth. The Sheep, Monkey, and Rooster worked together to cross the river, finishing eighth, ninth, and tenth. The Dog, who had stopped to play in the river, finished eleventh. The Pig came in twelfth because it stopped for a snack and a nap. However, the Rat and the Cat had been best friends. The Cat liked to sleep in during the mornings, so the Rat had promised to wake it for the race. Some renditions say that the Rat forgot to wake the Cat, others say that the Rat tricked the Cat into missing the race.”

“I was gonna say that we could totally be the Rat and the Cat,” Tucker sighed, “But I don’t want to be either.” A half beat. “You wouldn’t be the Rat, right? You’d tell me if something important was happening?”

“Of course.” Was Danny’s immediate reply.

Tucker narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion before nodding. “Alright. What about the other Zodiac?”

“Well, unlike the Chinese Zodiac that cycles every year, the Western Zodiac cycles every month and almost none of their stories connect.” He shifted in his seat again. “They’re separated into four categories: Fire, water, earth, and air.”

“Like Avatar?”

“Like Avatar. Aquarius the Water Bearer, Pisces the Fish, Aries the Ram, Taurus the Bull, Gemini the Twins, Cancer the Crab, Leo the Lion, Virgo the Virgin, Libra the Scales, Scorpio the Scorpion, Sagittarius the Archer, and Capricorn the Sea-Goat. Air, water, fire, earth, air, water, fire, earth, air, water, fire, earth.” He took a deep breath, almost sighing his exhale. “In Greek Mythology, Aquarius is said to be the representation of Ganymede, the son of Trojan king Taros. He was so beautiful that Zeus granted him immortality and brought him to live among the gods as their cupbearer. In Babylonian Mythology, Aquarius is said to be the god Ea and is associated most with the violet floods they suffered.

“Pisces, also Greek, is one of the oldest known constellations. In order to escape the titan Typhon, father of all monsters, Aphrodite and her son Eros - Venus and Cupid in Roman myths - transformed themselves into fish. Another ending says that the fish carried Aphrodite and Eros to safety. Yet another myth says that an egg fell into the Euphrates River and was rolled to shore by two fish, where doves sat upon it until it hatched, out of which came Aphrodite. As thanks, she added fish into the night sky, tied together by a ribbon.

“In Babylonian history, Aries was first known as ‘The Agrarian Worker’ or ‘The Hired Man’. Then, in Egyptian Mythology, after the transition in depiction from a man into a ram, Aries became associated with the god Amun-Ra, who’s depicted as a man with a ram’s head. In Greek Mythology, Aries is associated with the Golden Ram who rescued Phrixus and Helle on Hermes’ orders.

“In The Epic of Gilgamesh, Taurus the Heavenly Bull is sent to kill Gilgamesh for spurring the advances of the goddess Ishtar. To Egyptians, Taurus was regarded as sacred, associated with renewal of life and spring. In Greek Mythology, Taurus is identified with Zeus who took the form of a magnificent white bull to kidnap Europa, a Phoenician princess.

“Gemini the Twins: Castor and Pollux. In Babylonian stories, they are regarded as minor gods; The One Who Has Arisen From The Underworld and The Mighty King. In Greek, Pollux is the son of Zeus and Leda while Castor is the son of Tyndareus and Leda. When Castor - who was a mortal - died, Pollux - a demigod of Zeus - begged his father to give Castor immortality. Granting his wish, the brothers were reunited, living on as stars.

“Zeus, king of the Olympian Gods, slept with Alcmene, giving birth to Heracles, Roman name Hercules. Hera, goddess of marriage and Zeus’s wife, turned her anger onto Zeus’s child, causing him death and suffering for a lot of his life. When Heracles made it to adulthood, he married the princess Megara and they had several children. Hera then provoked a fit of madness upon Heracles, in which he killed his wife and kids. As penance, the sibyl - oracle - of the Delphi Oracle - high priestess of the Temple of Apollo - ordered he perform ten labors. Eurystheus, Heracles’ cousin and judge for the ten labors, deemed two of them invalid because they couldn’t be done without help, resulting in the famous Twelve Labors of Heracles. During his second Labor - killing the Hydra of Lerna - Hera sent the giant crab Carcinos to assist the Hydra. Enraged, Heracles killed the crab before killing the Hydra with the help of his nephew, Iolaos.

“Another one of the earliest recognised constellations, Leo was known in Babylonian astronomy as The Great Lion. In Greek, Leo is identified as the Nemean Lion which was killed by Heracles during his Twelve Labors.

“In most stories, Virgo is depicted as a virgin maiden associated with wheat. In Greek and Roman, she is related to Demeter, Roman name Ceres, and Persephone, Roman name Proserpina. The myth of Parthenos tells of how Virgo came to be. In another Greek myth, Virgo is associated with Erigone, the daughter of Icarius. In Egyptian Mythology, her presence is marked as the beginning of the wheat harvest. In Christianity, the birth of Jesus to a virgin mother is symbolically linked to Virgo.

“Libra has almost always been associated with law, fairess, and civility. In Babylonian astronomy, Libra is called ‘scales’ or ‘balance’ or ‘Claws of the Scorpion’. The scales were held sacred to the sun god Shamash, patron of truth and justice. Ancient Greece also recognised Libra as the Scorpion’s Claws. All the ‘claw’ names are because Libra was a part of the Scorpio constellation until the Romans made it its own.

“Orion the Hunter was a giant who proclaimed that he would kill every creature that roamed the earth. Gaea, Earth Herself, didn’t like that, so she sent Scorpio the Scorpion to hunt and kill him. Now, even after killing him, Scorpio hunts Orion; One constellation rises when the other sets, forever locked in chase.

“Sagittarius is known to Greek Mythology as Chiron the centaur. He is most known for mentoring heroes such as Achillies, Jason, Heracles, and Asklepios. He is the wisest of the centaurs, whose higher intelligence forms a bridge between Earth and Heaven.

“Capricorn has been depicted as a fish-goat since the Middle Bronze Age. He was used in Babylon as a symbol for the god Ea.In Greek, he is sometimes seen as Amalthea, the goat who suckled baby Zeus after Rhea saved him from being devoured by his father, Chronos. It is also said that his broken horn was turned into the cornucopia, AKA the horn of plenty. Another Greek rendition says that Capricorn depicts the god Pan while fleeing from Typhon via the river.”

There were a few beats of quiet between the two, the noise of the people around them filling in the space. Danny took a sip of his now too cold drink before putting it down with a frown.

“Wow,” Tucker finally said, “That’s a lot. How do you know so much?”

Danny smiled again. It was small and melancholy. “I’ve loved the stars for longer than I can remember.”

“Can you read them?”

“Can I read what?”

“The stars. Can you read them?”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom said that people used to use the stars to track where they were and where they needed to go. So, can you read them?”

“Yeah,” was the answer. He and Damian had been taught by Mother herself how to navigate via the stars. “I can navigate via stars. It’s not hard once you get the hang of it.”

Quiet settled back over the two as Ticker let himself get lost in thought for a minute. Danny let himself people watch while he waited. What was left of the food had been packed up about an hour ago, leaving simple snack foods and drinks out. There was just under an hour before the year would change over. Maybe they could call Sam for a minute? That might be a nice surprise for her. Or she could be busy and they’d piss off her parents. 

Calling Sam it is!

Just as Danny was turning on his phone, Tucker said, “Do you think we could write a computer code using the stars?”

Huh? “Huh?”

Tucker blushed and hid his face in his scarf. “Well, I’ve always wanted to try coding something that not even the best of the best could get around. And, if we used something like the stars, then it’d take at least a while for someone to crack it because no one would ever guess they’d need a map of the stars to hack something.”

Danny thought for a moment before a grin split his face. “Tucker, that’s genius!” he exclaimed, “I could kiss you!”

Tucker blushed deeper and buried himself more into his scarf, mumbling something that Danny couldn’t hear.

“We don’t have the stuff on us to do anything now,” Danny said, “But we could totally start work on it Thursday. What’d ya say?”

Slowly, Tucker brought himself out of his makeshift turtle shell. “Tomorrow should be good. My place?”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Mom and dad  got this new ‘breakthrough’ a few days ago. They’ve also gotten it into their heads that me and Jazz want to and can be down in the lab. Neither of us really want to go down there, but are you going to tell the crazy scientists ‘no’?”

Grimacing, Tucker shook his head. “No thank you.” A beat. “Should we call Sam?”

“And rub it in her face that we’re having so much more fun than her?” His grin turned feral. “I was thinking the same thing.”

*

“Why do we gotta be the ones to clean up the lab?” Danny complained.

Jazz huffed from where she was putting their parents’ papers into folders. “I don’t know, Danny. Just like I didn’t know ten minutes ago. Or twenty minutes ago. Or thirty minutes ago. I don’t know what goes on in mom and dad’s heads!”

He cringed back, keeping the broom between himself and his sister as if it could stop her from suddenly attacking him. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just,” His gaze wandered over to the empty, still being built, portal. “That thing gives me the creeps.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? A ten foot tunnel with LED lights and glowing walls is giving you the creeps?”

He spluttered. “Well, I-” He groaned in frustration. “You haven’t been inside it. When dad pushed me in, it was a lot darker in there than it looks out here. Like, you’d think that it'd be brighter, seeing as there’s only one place for the light to exit, but it wasn’t. It was like all the light was being absorbed instead of reflected.” His grip on  the broom handle tightened. “And when I tripped, I could swear that I heard a voice.”

“A voice?” Because of course that’s what gets her attention. “Danny, hearing voices isn’t a good thing.”

“It’s not-!” He sighed and began sweeping again. “Just forget it. Let’s get this done so that I can get back to my project.”

She followed his lead. “What’re you working on?”

“Tucker had the idea to use a star chart as a guide to code something. In order to do that, we need a star chart, so I’m making one.”

Jazz smiled as she put the folders into the middle drawer of the desk, each one labeled accordingly. “That’s nice. Are you guys gonna let Sam in on it?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe, maybe not. Probably will. She has to come back for that, though.”

“She’ll be back soon, you big mother hen, stop worrying.”

“Only if you stop reading those parenting books.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Then it seems we’ve reached an impasse.” Danny hung the broom up on the wall of the landing at the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, Care Bear. You’ve got concerning books to read and I’ve got concerning friends to worry about. Besides, the sooner we get outta here the sooner mom and dad can ruin all our hard work.”

Chuckling, Jazz followed her brother back to the main floor of the house. “Why’d they even want us to clean down there?”

“Because they didn’t want to?” He shrugged, “Maybe they’re renovating? Who knows.”

She hummed. “I guess we’ll never know. Want a snack?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Positive?”

“As my blood type.”

“Your blood type is AB-.”

“Exactly.”

“Danny.”

“What?” He was halfway up the stairs now. “Look, I’m fine. No need to nag me, mother hen.”

“Shut it, greedy chick.”

*

Waiting for the next letter was almost as bad as waiting for the letters before it. Was this anxiety ever gonna lessen, or was this a thing he’d be stuck with until he and Damian met face to face? If. If he and Damian ever meet face to face. ‘If’ is…decent.

Though, if they ever did meet up again, in person, where would they do it? Would they meet each other’s family? He didn’t mind the thought of introducing Jazz and Damian, and he figured it would be nice to meet his father, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Damian or his family to meet his parents. That would be an embarrassing disaster waiting to happen and Danny would like no part of that, thank you.

Starting a group call with Tucker and Sam, Danny only had to wait a ring and a half for someone to answer. “I am beyond ready to be back!”

“Hey, Sam. Nice to talk to you, too.” Danny joked.

“Don’t snark me, asshole, I can still kick your ass from two-thousand miles away!”

“Two-thousand twenty-three miles, actually,” Tucker joined the call.

“Yeah, yeah,” she scoffed, “Technicalities and shit. I was only off by twenty-three miles.”

“You would not believe the distance that covers, though.”

“La la la! I’m not listening!”

The three laughed after a moment, their usual dynamic falling easily into place despite the distance. After a few minutes, the line delved into a comfortable quiet, white noise from each side filling the space.

“So,” Tucker said after a moment, “What’d ya call for, Danny?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. ‘S just bored.”

“You could always come get me from Starling City?” Sam offered.

“And pull you from your rich person parties?” Danny feigned distress, “I could never!”

Tucker laughed. “Yeah, and I don’t think he’d be able to cross state lines, especially in a stolen car that you’re not old enough to drive.”

“An extraction plan would be easy,” Danny chimed, “Sneaking across state lines would be a bit more difficult, but not too bad. The real problem is when your parents report you missing and there’s a manhunt launched in Washington to find you.”

“You’re right,” Sam relented, “Though it’d be hilarious to watch the manhunt from the comfort of my own room.”

“You mean one of our rooms?”

“You’re grandma would probably help,” Tucker added on, “She’d probably even fund the thing!” The three laughed again.

“Does this mean you’ll come save me?”

“Nah. If you haven’t died already then you’ll be fine until you get home.”

“What’re you gonna do when I get home?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The two boys said at the same time. Then, Tucker added, “Have you seen the Arrow?”

“The who?”

“The Arrow!” Tucker exclaimed, “He’s like, the coolest hero ever, and he’s based in Starling City!”

“Really?” Danny wondered.

He just knew that Tucker was nodding his head so fast that he wouldn’t be out of place at a heavy metal concert. “Yeah, dude! And he definitely has a tech guy. I, for one, would die- perish, if I got to meet either Arrow or his tech guy.”

“What about other heroes and their tech guys?” Sam asked, humor in her voice. “I’d like to meet Green Lantern or Wonder Woman. They’re both known diplomats; I’d love to pick their brains.”

“What about you, Danny?”

Batman would be the obvious choice. However, “I’d like to meet Martian Manhunter and Superman. Can you imagine how much I could learn about space from actual aliens?” He sighed dreamily. “I could die a happy boy.”

“And risk coming back as a ghost?” Sam snorted, “You’d really disappoint your parents like that?”

Again, Danny shrugged. “I’m a disappointment in life, I’ll be a disappointment in death.” He heard the front door open and shut, his parents’ loud voices carrying into the house. “Sorry to cut this short, guys, but my parents just got home.”

“Speak of the devil,” Tucker said.

“I think I’d rather deal with him.” he sat up, “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Are you still coming over tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see ya then.” He hung up, cutting his friends’ farewells short. Heaving a heavy sigh, Danny stashed his phone in his back pocket and crept into the hall, meeting his sister at the top of the stairs. They didn’t share anything other than a look as they watched their parents haul linoleum floor tiles and metal wall sheets down into the basement lab.

“How does Tasty Burger sound for dinner tonight?” Jazz asked quietly.

“Sounds good.” Danny responded in the same volume.

***

Danyal Fenton     Jan. 4, 2012

You’re insufferable, you know that, yes? Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed to survive any situation, especially not social ones. You need to work on written communications, but you should broaden your horizons and work on all forms of communication, just in case.

Yes, before you get too far, you did answer sufficiently. Must you act like I tortured you for information? Honestly, Danyal.

I understand your want of communication, though I don’t blame you for waiting for so long. I would’ve done the same, had I been in your shoes. Mother, for the most part, has left me and father alone, and our contact with the League is few and far between. Meeting in person, though, would be the best and most secure way of communicating.

I’d hardly call you sending your letter on the last day of the year a victory, but if your life is as mundane as you’ve been portraying it as, then I’ll allow you to relish in whatever you can get. Also, would you mind explaining what ‘/j’ means? I am unfamiliar with it.

The research I mentioned was about twins. There were some interesting studies that I happened across during some research for a project with father, and I read through them on my own time. I’m sure you have the same results as me. Emotional states are not shared between twins, but, more often than not, one twin can tell the emotional state of the other. It was an interesting rabbit hole, as Drake called it, to go down. I recommend looking into it if you’re bored.

However, there are cases of twins being able to tell when the other is in physical distress. We were not allowed to be close as children, though I always thought you were alive because I did not feel you die. I did not understand it then, and I still do not understand it now, but I am glad I was correct.

You’re family, to change the topic, sounds like a handful. Why does Jasmine not have to worry about paying taxes when she’s older? And why do the Drs, Fenton disregard lab safety? Are you in danger? Has their carelessness hurt either you or Jasmine?

I understand that calling another your sibling is weird. Call her however you are comfortable calling her. If she truly cares, she will understand and she will refrain from pushing you to call her something else.

I must say, I’m not sure I like Samantha, based on what you’ve said about her. To be friends with someone just to go against her parents does not sound like a healthy relationship in the slightest. Tucker, as I assume that’s his full name, on the other hand, sounds like he’s a good friend. Does he recuperate the sentiment, though? Are you his ride or die, just as he is yours?

Yes, I have met Superman and Martian Manhunter. No, I will not get you an autograph if I see them again. Green Lantern, at least the four that work with the Justice League, are all Earth Born.

Weapon Smithing does count as a hobby, yes. It’s unfortunate that you’ve been unable to keep it up, though I do encourage you to pick it up again. You were quite proficient when we were younger, and you will only get better.

I would love another dagger. Until then, though, I will keep the one I have on me. When you have created another, I will put the wooden one in the display case. But, only when you have given me another.

Celebrating the Summer and Winter Solstices sounds like a wonderful idea. The Summer Solstice, according to my research, is the celebration of the return of light, life, and fertility. The Winter Solstice is the celebration of rebirth, renewal, and the return of light. So, similar meanings, but celebrated differently. I think I will join you in celebrating, though we won’t be able to do so together properly until we meet in person.

Resorting to name calling, peasant? I thought I taught you better.           Damian Wayne

Part 2 Part 4

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian,   Jan. 8, 2012

Is that sarcasm I’m reading? A joke? Gasp! I didn’t know you were capable, ahki! It’s a New Year’s miracle! I bet father and your siblings are very proud of you. A shame that I wasn’t the one to teach you. Sigh.

Are you hinting that you want me to come meet you again in person? You and father and your siblings? I’m flattered, but I don’t think I’m ready to risk getting back on the League’s radar more than I already have by contacting you. I’m happy you want me to come meet everyone, but I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m the more sociable of the two of us, but meeting that many people at once, or even spread across a short period of time, is a lot, even for me. I’m content to follow along from the middle of the country for now, though I might take you up on that invite in the future.

From what I understand, the IRS is scared of the Drs. Fenton. I’m not sure exactly why, but they are. So Jazz, by association with her parents, will most probably be extended the same courtesy. Honestly, I would officially take on the Fenton name if it meant I wouldn’t have to pay taxes. I’m not going to, though. I’m not prepared for the identity crisis that that would give me, so I’ll stick to just using their name as an extra for now.

Sam will kill you if you call her by her full name, so just call her Sam or Manson (her last name). Having said that, she isn’t too bad. Her and Tucker (you can call him Foley or Tucker) don’t get along very well. She’s an ‘ultra-recyclo-vegetarian’ which basically means she won’t eat anything that ever had a face. Though, I’m trying to get her to tone it down a bit. She’s a bit in-your-face about it sometimes. Tucker’s the exact opposite. He has a goal to eat nothing but meat for the rest of his life and is less intense about it, but he’s still a little in-your-face at times. They’re a handful, but they’re good people. Just don’t let them get started about their food habits. They’ve argued for days about the topic. I’m just waiting for the day that they start an actual physical fight over it. I’ll just sit back and watch when that happens. I imagine it’ll be quite entertaining.

What kind of dagger do you want? How big? What materials? Any colors or designs you want painted or engraved? What color do you want the sheath?

Again with the invitation to meet up? I’ll hold you to celebrate those with me. Maybe you could get father and your siblings in on it, too! And Alfred! I think he’d have fun.

I wasn’t calling you a name, smartass, it’s a term of endearment. Like a nickname. Welcome to the modern world, loser, where context counts for everything. /j means joking. Other things you’ll see a lot are normally explained through the context or tone of the conversation or how they’re said. You’ll get there eventually, ahki!

ليبقى نصل سيفك حادًا يا أخي

Danny Fenton

***

A week. It had been an entire week and Damian hadn’t responded. That’s okay, though! Danny knows that life happens and that Damian isn’t always going to be able to respond right away. Besides, it’s not like they had a set schedule or anything. He probably hasn’t answered because something more important came up, like a case.

But what if he hates him? Danny didn’t think he’d be able to continue living if that was the case. Sure, he’d thought for a while that Damian hated him, but that had been before he told his brother he’s still alive! Damian could totally hate him and it hurt because now he’s actually alive to be hated!

It could’ve been the Shadows. He hoped it wasn’t the Shadows. He’d rather have Damian hate him than have the Shadows involved in any way. Did Mother know he was still alive? Did Grandfather know? He shuddered to think about it.

Danny jumped when his bedroom door slammed open. “Dann-o!” His dad’s voice rang loudly in the small room. “You’re mother and I would like your help down in the lab with something.”

Shaking off his paranoia for now, Danny followed his dad out of his room. “What do you guys need help with?” It wasn’t like he was a genius like them or anything. He didn’t understand a lick of their research. Does that make them geniuses or crazy? He’s gonna say ‘yes’, but none of those are a really big vote of confidence.

“Well,” Jack said, “You’re the weapons expert in the house, so we’d like your help with some blueprints for some.”

“Why are you guys making blueprints?” he wondered, “You’re researchers, not scientists. Even if you’re cleared for experimentation, weapons aren’t a part of your funding, as small as that might be. Besides, there’s nothing to use them on or against.”

“For now.”

“What?”

“‘For now’. There’s nothing to use the weapons against for now.”

They were at the basement door in the kitchen now. “What do you mean?”

Jack opened the door and led the way down. “Once we get the portal up and running, who knows what’ll come through!”

“He’s right, sweetie,” Maddie called from the lab. Where did that bottom door go? “Anything could come through the portal, so we’ll need ways to defend ourselves and others.”

“So why build it, then?” Danny asked, not stepping into the lab, “If it could be so dangerous, why build it in our basement and not in a government facility? Why even build it at all?”

“And give our life’s work over to people who’d misuse it all or sell it just to make money they don’t need?” Maddie scoffed, “No. We’re much better off having it here where we can monitor it closely.” She pulled a HAZMAT suit from a side room - how the hell had that gotten there? That’s not in the house’s blueprints! - directly across from the door. “Come put this one, sweetie, and we can get started.”

He glared at the rubber suit he’d been handed. It was plain, mostly white, with black accents. Black knee-high boots and elbow gloves accompanied it. Reluctantly, he put it on over his clothes. There was no way he was letting the thing touch more of his skin than was strictly necessary. He sighed quietly to himself and stepped into the finished lab, which was now covered in metal wall panels and linoleum floor tiles. “What did you have in mind?”

Jack pushed some papers to the side, absolutely demolishing Jazz’s hard work at attempting to keep their parents’ space organized, and pointed to a list. “Guns.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Guns?”

“Guns.”

“...Just guns?”

“To start out with,” Maddie explained, “Something long-ranged until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. Then, we’ll move onto bigger, more effective weaponry.”

Another sigh, this time louder and more obvious. “I don’t think this is a good idea. If-” he stressed the two letter word heavily, “-the portal does work, and if something comes through, wouldn’t it be better to show that we’re not hostile? Shoving a gun in something’s face is a great way of saying ‘We’re a threat that you need to defend yourself from!’.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jack shook his head, “The only thing coming out of that portal are ghosts, and ghosts aren’t sentient. Everyone knows that.”

That was a horrible way of thinking that would only ever lead to problems. “What do you mean?”

Maddie smiled at him, her voice and expression doing nothing to hide the fact that she was acting like she was explaining physics to a toddler. “You see, sweetie, ghosts are the leftover imprint of human emotions onto ectoplasm; The final fleeting thoughts in their last moments of life.”

“Shouldn’t that make you want to leave them alone, then? Let them keep a peaceful afterlife?” The Shadows had never been huge believers in the afterlife, but Danny had learned about the various ones after leaving, and he had latched onto that belief with an iron grip. He needed to know that he would be punished for what he did in life. He needed to know that those he cared about would not cease existing after they died. “I can’t imagine they’d be very happy about someone encroaching on their eternity.” Eternity was a long time.

Jack frowned. “You’re not getting it, sweetie,” Maddie said kindly, though he could see the frustration in her eyes at having to elaborate. “Ghosts can’t think or feel for themselves. Whatever their last thought was when they died was their final thought for eternity.”

“But you just said that their final imprint-”

“-is all they know.” Jack said, his tone stern. “Ghosts are in their own little world. They can’t think, they can’t feel, they can’t see anything outside of their final moments. They’re not sentient or sapient.”

“But-!”

“Danny,” Maddie cut him off, “We’re the leading experts in this field. We know what we’re talking about.” She ruffled his hair. “Just trust us, okay?”

Not in a million years. Not anymore. “Okay.”

“Great!” Jack was back to grinning. “Here’s what I was thinking: The Fenton Blaster-”

*

It’s been exactly three days under a month with no response. Does Damian not want to talk to him? Did he do something- say something wrong? Maybe he should send another letter. But what if he comes off as clingy? He wouldn’t want that. But, what if this is Damian’s way of seeing what he’ll do if he suddenly disappears? What if he had disappeared?! What if Grandfather and Mother learned that Danny was back and went after Damian because he knew and didn’t tell them?!

He shook his head harshly. “Don’t be stupid, Danny. If Damian had disappeared, then the news would’ve been all over it within the first week.” He paused. “Even if father has an excuse prepared.” And he would, if he was even half as paranoid as Mother said he was.

One more letter, he decided after much deliberation. One more letter and the ball would be in Damian’s court. It couldn’t hurt too bad to check in. If nothing came, he’d wait for any kind of news or clue before jumping to the worst possible outcome. That wasn’t going to stop him from being prepared, though.

His paranoia was only getting worse by the day. Every day without any sign of Damian was another day of Danny watching over his shoulder for even a twitch that didn’t belong to his own shadow. Every noise that he couldn’t see people make, every double take that anyone did, had him reaching for a weapon. Was paranoia a hereditary trait?

He’d taken to carrying his knives on him again. He’d never left the house without one on him, but now he made sure to carry at least three; one in each sleeve, and one in his boot. He also started wearing clothes similar to what he wore before ‘dying’. He made sure the changes were subtle enough that no one would point them out the next day, but it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed. By then, though, he’d’ve established this as his new style. That meant, however, that he would be stuck with it for a while. He didn’t find himself minding too much. It was comfortable, easy, safe.

“Danny!” Tucker greeted as he sat his tray down on the table in front of him, “Jazz says you’re moping.”

Danny scowled lightly at himself, upset that even Tucker had made him startle. “Jazz doesn’t know anything.”

“Something about your penpal not writing you back?” Sam ignored him and sat diagonally to both boys, completing the triangle around the circle table.

“Since when do you have a penpal?”

“Since when can you actually write?”

“Since when do either of you even know?”

“We just told you,” Sam said before taking a bite of her school-made salad, cringing slightly at the taste.

Tucker was chewing as he said, “Jazz told us yesterday.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up. “Don’t talk and chew.” he scolded.

“Don’t chew with your mouth open!” Sam gagged.

Tucker swallowed what was in his mouth, ignoring both of them. “Why’re you so upset anyway? It’s not like you actually knew this person! You guys exchanged, what, six letters totally?”

Danny nudged a piece of stale pasta around his plate with his fork. “I do know the person I’ve been sending letters to.”

“What?” Tucker asked.

“What!” Sam demanded.

“He’s a…friend from Before.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Even in his confusion, Tucker was still eating. “You remember the time before you were adopted? I thought you had amne-something!”

“It’s ‘amnesia’, Tuck,” Sam corrected, “And what did I just say?”

Danny cut her off before she could scold their friend. “I’m still a foster kid, Tuck. And, yeah, I remember. I never forgot, actually. Everyone assumed amnesia, and I didn’t find it important to correct them.”

“But they could’ve helped you find your family!” Sam pointed her fork at him.

He cringed and stabbed a few pieces of the school-made pasta. “Don’t you think I would’ve gone back if it were safe?” Maybe not the best wording. Smooth, Danny.

It was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean?” Her voice was small. Way too small to be Sam.

Danny didn’t answer her, instead deciding to eat the tasteless food. How could he tell them about Before? Telling Jazz was one thing, because he’d always known that he would tell her, but telling these two was a completely different matter!

He didn’t want them to get hurt. Knowing would make them look for answers where there were none. Not knowing would have the same effect, but at least they wouldn’t know where to look. Besides, the secret is to save their lives.

There was another, quieter, part of him that said he didn’t want to share his brother. That part is a liar that sounds too much like Grandfather for him to actually listen to it.

He finished forcing down what the school called food, put his fork down, and sighed. “Where I was born wasn’t the safest,” he explained quietly, “There were a lot of people on the compound that didn’t get along with each other,” An extreme understatement. “So there was a lot of fighting.” And death, and people going missing, et cetera. “I saw an opportunity to get out of there-” Not really, it was all an accident, but they didn’t need to know that. “-so I left.” Technically, he was kidnapped, but he went willingly. Either way, he left and has no plans to ever return.

“Dude..” Tucker’s voice was quiet, his plate cleared and his fork held in his hand. There was pity in his eyes, a lot of it. Danny hated it, so he looked back down at the table.

Sam’s own fork was slammed down onto the table as gently as she could manage at the moment, which was not at all; The metal utensil bounced. “And you ended up with the Fentons?”

The Drs. Fenton were infamous around Amity Park, just as they were to scientists around the country. ‘Crazy’ was a word that was frequently used with them. ‘Inane’ was another one. Danny would have to disagree with Sam’s evaluation, though. They were neglectful, sure, but they weren’t dangerous. The Shadows were dangerous, Mother was dangerous, Grandfather was dangerous. The Drs. Fenton were not. Not when compared to where he’d been born or who he was raised by. Living with the Fentons was a mercy.

He made to say as much, to tell his friends that Jack and Maddie Fenton were like kicked puppies compared to his Mother, but he was cut off.

Dash Baxter, the biggest guy in elementary school, had a vendetta against Danny for some reason. Along with Dash was his best friend Kwan. Kwan never really did anything other than stand by and watch, so Danny was neutral about him. Dash, on the other hand, was as big an asshole as a sixth grader could be.

“That’s our table, dweeb.” Dash scowled.

Danny heaved a sigh. “It’s literally not. We’ve been sitting here since the third grade.”

“Yeah?” Dash tried to make himself look bigger, “Well I’m tellin’ ya to move it.”

He didn’t have the energy for this. Standing, he picked up his tray, made an exaggerated ‘there ya go!’ motion, and walked away. Tucker and Sam were quick to join him, leaving Dash and Kwan at the corner table.

“What a jerk.” Sam said, dumping her tray.

Tucker nodded, putting his on the counter to be taken and washed. “Yeah.”

“Just leave ‘im, guys,” Danny sighed, “It’s not like he’s got anything better to do. Besides, better me than someone else.”

“Better you?” Sam scoffed, “Better no one. Why doesn’t the school do anything? Have you reported him?”

“And get labeled a tattle?” Tucker squeaked, “Don’t do it, man. That kinda name sticks with ya.”

Danny snorted. They had no idea what being labeled a tattle could do to someone, especially in the real world. “Don’t worry. Besides, I can actually handle myself in a fight if it ever gets to that point. He can’t say anything to me that would actually affect me.” It was true. Grandfather and Mother had been the only ones that were ever able to tear him apart with words alone.

Obviously unhappy with the two boys but not willing to try and change their minds, Sam walked a step ahead of them. “You two are so stupid.”

“Aww,” Tucker fake whined, the smile on his face betraying him, “You looove us!”

“Ew!” she pushed him away from her shoulder, “Cooties!”

Danny laughed with his friends, chasing each other out of the building and across the playground, unintentionally starting the biggest game of The Floor is Lava of the school year.

***

Damian,   Feb. 5, 2012

You haven’t answered my last letter. There have been no League assassins anywhere near me, so I feel it safe to assume there was no interception, nor have you been taken or compromised.

Was it something I said? I’m sorry, if that’s the case. Please, are you at least safe? There’s been nothing in the news, so I don’t think you’ve left Gotham. Are you in danger? Do you need me to come help? It’s been a while, but I can still win any fight you need me to.

ابق بأمان يا أخي

Danny Fenton

***

Danny closed the mailbox and pointed the little red flag up. “There,” he muttered to himself, “Can’t turn back now.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, staring at the white mailbox. If nothing came up in the news, then he’d assume that Damian didn’t want to talk to him, and he’d leave him alone. He wouldn’t go so far as to cut off all contact points yet, but that was still a potential response. If Damian made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Danny, then he’d isolate himself from him. But only if Damian made it clear.

Standing in front of his house, the world felt both so much bigger and so much smaller than it ever had before. He’d lost his brother before, found a new family, and then reconnected with his brother. He’d been happier than he’d ever been before, and now it felt like everything was falling apart again.

Damian wasn’t answering him, Jack and Maddie had been in the lab more and more now, and Jazz was burying herself in her studies. He didn’t know what to do. Was there anything he could do? He’s just a kid! He’s a civilian child whose entire life is falling apart and he can’t do anything about it because he’s “Powerless!” When had he sat down?

Punching the dirt and grass of his house’s front lawn was doing nothing but hurting his hands. That didn’t matter, though, because he couldn’t feel it. He felt numb and empty and angry and sad all at once. Numb that Damian wasn’t responding, angry that his parents were more involved in their work than with their kids’ lives, sad that Jazz was having to grow up parenting herself and him, and empty because there was nothing he could do about any of it.

After what was probably both way too long and way too short a time, Danny stood and made his way inside. He could hear his parents in the illegal lab, building the guns according to the blueprints he’d made them, probably cutting out all the safety features he insisted there be. Jazz was in her room either reading a parenting book or studying to skip a grade or two.

He flopped into the couch and turned on the TV, absentmindedly flipping through the channels. He felt detached- There! He stopped on a national channel that was covering a story in Gotham, New Jersey. Maybe he’d find some news about father or Damian or one of the others?

“-ites mourn the loss of Gotham’s very own Prince, Bruce Wayne. Earlier today, his eldest son, Richard Grayson-Wayne, announced that Bruce went missing just under a month ago.”

No.

“The family has been and will continue to work with private investigators to find Mr. Wayne, but the local police force is not so optimistic.”

This-this-

“Authorities encourage everyone to reach out if they have any information on the whereabouts and/or wellbeing of Gotham’s White Knight. Richard Grayson-Wayne, now acting as the head of the Wayne Family, has agreed to pay any ransom demanded. As of this time, no such demands have been made.”

Suddenly, Danny was watching from somewhere else. He was detached, not in control of his body. He wasn’t close to father, not in the slightest, but Damian-

Damian.

Oh, gods. No wonder he wasn’t responding! Father’s gone missing and all Danny has been doing was stewing in his own self pity!

The letter. He had to send a different one.

As quick as he could, Danny bolted from his seat and to the front door, ripping it open just in time to see the mail truck turn the corner. The little red flag on the mailbox was pushed back down.

“Fuck.” He had to do something. He had to contact Damian! His brother needs him!

Danny rushed up the stairs and to his room, making a mess as he pulled paper from drawers and scattered pencils across the floor.

“-ther news, according to Mr. Wayne’s will, the actions of which are being taken in case of the worst possible outcome, has appointed Timothy Drake-Wayne as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

***

Damian,   Feb. 6, 2012

I swear that I had no idea father was missing! Do you need help? I can start looking here in Illinois. I can search all of the Midwest if you need me to! What do you want me to do? I can’t do anything unless you tell me what you need. Please.

أخبرني ما الذي تحتاجه Danyal

Translation 1 - Arabic: Keep your blade sharp, brother

Translation 2 - Arabic: Stay safe, brother

Translation 3 - Arabic: Tell me what you need, brother

Part 3 Part 5

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Feb. 16, 2012

It’s been exactly sixteen days since I found out that father went missing. It’s been fifteen days since I last wrote to you. I’m still waiting for an answer. Just in case, however, I’ve started to keep a closer eye on things here in Illinois. Once I’ve got an information network kind-of up and running, I’ll hopefully be able to keep an eye on a much larger area than just one state.

I can’t believe it took me this long to set up a web.

You’ll notice that there’s no return address on this letter. On the off chance that father going missing involves the Shadows somehow, I’ve decided to let this line drop. When If you decide to write to me again, the return will be the same as it was before. It’ll be the best way to reach me, unless you want to use the number from my first letter.

I have anything in my P.O. Box delivered to a secondary location where I can pick it up, as I told you before. I’ll check there as frequently as I can.

أتمنى أن يكون كل شيء على ما يرام

***

The letters were given to Damian by Alfred just as his Father had always been handed mail. They were set on a tray on a table near the front door and brought to the dining table just before lunch was served.

The mail had been piling up recently. Sure, they all saw the letters on the dining table, but no one had the energy to look at the names written on them. Fortunately, the ones on the top were addressed to Damian. Unfortunately, everything aside from the death of his Father had been pushed to his mind. It could all wait.

It wasn’t confirmed that Father was dead. In fact, their story for the public is that he was kidnapped, that they had hired some private investigators to look for him, and that they would pay any ransom asked as long as it was within their capabilities. It had been a long shot, but it was their final act of desperation. They were all prepared for the worst, though. Waiting for confirmation, evidence, that Father was truely dead was like waiting for the blade of a guillotine to fall. They would likely have to call it if he didn’t show up by year’s end.

Damian had only just gotten his Father, and now he was losing him. It wasn’t fair! Sent so far from home and to the house of a stranger, only to lose the man just as he’s getting attached! It was cruel. He could not bear the thought, so he ignored the letters with his father’s name. He ignored the letters with his name because he now held his father’s name.

Grayson was better at hiding his grief, trying to hold everything together, but it was obvious he, too, was falling into the same pit as the rest of them, only he was going to fall deeper. As much as it pained Damian to admit, Grayson was Father’s first chosen. He knew that what he felt at the loss of his Father, Grayson was feeling worse.

It would not do to compare grief, but he couldn’t help it. Grayson had been with Father the longest. Todd, while too angry to even fleetingly consider the idea of remaining a part of the family, was still Father’s first adopted. Drake, no matter how incompetent, had been the one to keep Father and Gotham well up until now. Damian had only been there, had only known Father, for a year.

Damian remembers the grief that had warped into anger. He remembers he and the people Father and Pennyworth insist are his brothers finding themselves and each other in the Cave, each of them intent on taking the Batman Cowl. After all, Gotham will not survive without Batman. None of them took it, though no one forgot it, either.

Todd and Drake had been the first two to fight over Father’s Cowl. Damian had net been allowed a mask, but he had helped to save Drake’s life after he fought Todd. He figures it was penance for attempting to kill him within his first month at the Manor.

Grayson had met Todd on the top of a moving train. No matter how much history the two had, being brothers and colleagues, their fight was inevitable. Grayson ended as the victor after knocking Todd off of the train.

Damian remembers the week after Grayson won. He stripped Drake of the title of Robin and gave it to Damian, while he became Batman. Drake had then left the country with the new name Red Robin.

While he knew that grief shows differently across the board, he knew it followed the same five steps. He was now at Acceptance. Grayson was stuck at Depression. Todd seemed to be stuck at Anger. But Drake was still at Denial.

However, Damian knew people who have died could still be alive. Grandfather, Danyal, and Todd. All three had died, and yet all three now walk amongst the living. Grandfather’s heart has to stop before the Pits can work to revive him. Danyal had not died and revived in the same sense, but he had been proclaimed and mourned. Todd had been killed and buried for six months before rejoining the living, as catatonic as he may have been. Why would Father be any different? Father could’ve faked his death for one reason or another, or he could’ve really died and it was only a matter of time before he came back!

Perhaps, Damian was still in Bargaining.

Death was a concept that he was intimately familiar with. There were ways to reverse its effects, and there were ways to make it more efficient. Father disappearing could mean anything.

This was all to say that Damian believed Drake. Father could be dead, but he could be alive. For as much as he hated Drake, Damian was not going to deny the points he made. He wasn’t going to help him, though. He had other duties to attend to, such as the meeting on the Watchtower he had to attend with Grayson as Batman and Robin.

“How are things going in Gotham?” Superman asked as Batman and Robin exited the Zeta Tubes.

Batman grunted as he always did, “Fine.”

Superman frowned, following Batman to the meeting room. “Are you sure? I saw the news. Are you okay?”

“Why would I not be?” Batman asked.

“Well, uh,” It was fun to watch Superman at a loss for words. “You must’ve gotten hurt pretty bad to not go out for almost two months,” he said, “And now Bruce Wayne is missing.”

The door to the meeting room opened, letting Superman, Batman, and Robin in. All conversation stopped. “Why would I be upset about Wayne going missing?”

Damian had to commend Grayson’s performance. He’d read in Father’s files that Superman could hear heartbeats, so tricking him was quite the accomplishment. He was upset, though, that the Kryptonian had yet to notice him. Actually, it seemed none of the heroes had noticed him.

“And Nightwing’s out of commission!” The Flash chimed in from his seat.

Batman turned his glare on the speedster. “Nightwing is doing some undercover work at the moment.”

“Oh.”

Superman took his seat beside Wonder Woman, leaving Batman and Robin with one chair left. Batman took it while Robin went to the dark corner to watch.

Wonder Woman stood. “Thank you all for coming,” she said as though this wasn’t a mandatory, bi-monthly meeting, “Currently, there is no situation that requires all of our focus. Washington D.C. is as it always is, as well as Gateway City.”

“And Themyscira?” Hawkgirl asked.

“They have not reached out about any problems they cannot handle on their own.” She retook her seat, prompting Superman to stand next.

And so the meeting went. Quick debriefs from everyone about their home cities, no more than five minutes each. Just as Batman designed it. When it came to the Dark Knights turn, however, he waited a full three seconds before standing. It was the only hint that something was off, but only Kal-El noticed, though he didn’t speak up about it.

“There have been no recent Arkham breakouts,” he reported, “Bruce Wayne has gone missing. The situation, however, is under control.” A bold faced lie, but no one could call him out on it. And those who could, wouldn’t dare. “Nightwing is doing undercover work and won’t be around for the foreseeable future. Red Robin is traveling for a mission of his own and won’t be around for the foreseeable future. Myself and Robin will be covering Gotham, though that does not invite any of you to operate in the city for any reason without explicit permission.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Aquaman said, “Who’s Red Robin?”

Batman blinked, the white lenses of his mask hiding it from everyone except Robin. “Red Robin.”

“Yeah,” the merman agreed, “Who is he?”

“He is Red Robin.” Batman stated.

Aquaman made to speak again, but Robin cut him off, looking at the screen on his wrist. “Batman,” he slunk from the shadows, pulling all attention to him and startling the heroes, “A message from Oracle. Conflict in Crime Alley.” Batman nodded with a grunt, sweeping out of the room. Robin followed.

“Hey, wait a second!” The Flash caught up to them quickly, stopping in front of them to cut them off. “Who is this!”

“Robin.”

“No,” The Flash shook his head, “Robin is a sickly Victorian child with a coffee addiction and a bo staff. This is not Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, “Tt. I am Robin.” He slowly pulled the katana at his hip from its sheath, just enough for the light to catch the blade. “Move.”

Batman held his arm out, not touching Robin, but catching his arm all the same. His head twitched to the right then the left. Robin resheathed his katana with another click of his tongue.

The Flash held up both of his hands and stepped back, “R-right. See you in two months?”

Neither vigilante responded, simply walking around him and back to the Zeta Tubes. Once the coords were set, they found themselves back in the Batcave. They still didn’t speak, opting to walk through the Cave and change into civvies in companionable silence. Finally, though, when they arrived in the Manor, Grayson spoke.

“You did well today,” his smile was gentle, “I was so nervous when I went to my first JL meeting! So were Jay and Tim. Steph never got to meet them, but I’m sure she would’ve been nervous, too.”

Dam 

Damian left the room a step ahead of Grayson. “Being nervous about such a trivial meeting is unnecessary. The meeting itself was pointless. You withheld information from them, they all withheld information from each other. Why do they claim to be a team if you all do not trust each other as one? It seems a pointless waste of resources.

Grayson hummed. “I couldn’t tell you why everyone withholds information, but I can tell you that it’s not a waste of resources. Even if it was, Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated fund basically everything.”

“Queen is Green Arrow, yes?” He turned into the dining room.

Grayson followed him still. “You figured it out that quickly?”

“Of course. The man is smart about his identity, but anyone who looks even a little closer than a glance at his company’s financial records would piece everything together.”

“Yeah,” Grayson chuckled, “But their tech girl is really good.”

“Better than Oracle?”

“Hey, now that’s not fair!”

“It is perfectly fair, Grayson. The children at school call it ‘home team solidarity’.” He took his pace at the table directly across from where Grayson was sitting, the head chair between them sitting empty. “So, Grayson, who is better? Felicity Smoak or Barbra Gordon?”

Pennyworth placed a plate in front of each of them, a cup following shortly after. The stack of letters in the middle of the table was three letters bigger.

Grayson huffed and stabbed his salad. “Not fair.”

Damian took the victory for what it was.

“Speaking of,” Grayson said a few moments later, “On the Watchtower, you said something about a message from Oracle? Something about Crime Alley?”

Damian swallowed his food before speaking. “Are you deaf? You were going to blow your cover, so I took the liberty of giving you a way out of the situation.”

“Aww!” Grayson cooed, “You do care!”

He huffed, moving to take another bite. “I care about not revealing our identities. Father is missing, Drake has gone off to who knows where looking for him, and you have taken the Cowl. The Justice League - a stupid name, by the way - would’ve figured out who we are if we had stayed any longer.

“‘A stupid name’ he says,” Grayson mumbled, “This coming from the kid raised by a group called the League of Assassins.” louder, he said, “You really have such little faith in my acting abilities?”

“‘League of assassins’ is the name outsiders have given it. ‘Shadows’ or ‘League of Shadow’ is the proper name.” He corrected. “And, yes. I don’t believe you could hold your cover under the scrutiny of the rest of the Justice League. You and Father have been around them enough times that they will know your tells if you do not hide them better. While you have them convinced for now, you must get better because they will know what to look for soon enough.” He took a sip of his water. “Besides, I don’t doubt that you can hide your identity as Nightwing acting as Batman from them. The line of questioning, should I have not gotten us out, would have risked our civilian identities. And, while I don’t care much for any of you, Father has taken painstaking measures to assure he is not discovered. Risking yourself risks all of us.”

Quiet permeated the room after his small speech was done. The two occupants finishing their food at a moderate pace.

The mansion was empty. In the year he’d been there, Damian had found that the Manor was always filled with noise and people. Now, however, it was just him, Grayson, and Pennyworth. Todd stayed in Crime Alley, not coming up for anything; Drake was somewhere in the world; Gordon was staying with her father for the time being; Brown had moved to Hong Kong with Cain, keeping little to no contact. Damian hated how empty it was. It reminded him of Nanda Parbat after Danyal had been pronounced dead. Barren, silent, dull.

Wayne Manor was, at its very core, a family home. Now, there was no family to fill its walls.

Reaching over, Damian picked up the letters that had been gathering for the last almost-two months. He was quick to sort through them. Father, Father, Father, Father- Damian? He set it aside. Father, Father, Damian again, Father, Damian. He set the rest down, not bothering to look through the rest of the pile. Why did he have mail? No one should be trying to-

Danyal.

How could he have forgotten? He must be so worried! Did he know what happened to Father? Was he waiting for a response? He needed to rectify this immediately.

Damian gathered his three letters and stood. “Excuse me.” He left the room, ignoring Grayson’s question of what was wrong. Quickly, he retreated to his room and sat at his desk, the envelopes glaring at him. Oddly, one of them didn’t have a return address on it, though the handwriting was the same on all of them.

He stared at the three for a little over an hour, struggling to open them. He wanted to, to see what his brother had said, but he couldn’t bring himself to add anything to his plate. Grayson and Pennyworth would not be able to handle the added stress of anything Danyal had put in his letters. He couldn’t handle whatever had been written down. Not yet, at least.

Would Danyal understand? He hoped so.

Damian tucked the three letters into the same drawer as the others, promising himself that he would read them later when he was more settled into his new role as Robin.

*

Three months later and Damian still hadn’t read the latters. They sat with the other, opened ones in the top left drawer of his desk, locked away from even himself. Every night, after patrol, he spent a good thirty minutes staring, trying to convince himself to open them, but he never did.

No follow-up letters came in, either, and that made him feel worse, somehow. Was Danyal upset with him? Was he in trouble? Was he waiting for a response? Damian didn’t know. He knew he’d have his answers if he opened the letters, but he couldn’t do it. So, they sat, tucked away, with an empty promise to read them later.

It’s not completely his fault that he hasn’t read them yet! Because it was just him and Grayson going out every night, he was working on several cases at once, while also keeping himself and Grayson alive. Pennyworth was doing what he could, but he is only one man. Brown and Cain only join them a few times a month, much more busy with their own things. Todd has stayed in Crime Alley, not even offering to branch out a few streets to help out. Gordon was still with her father, unable (or unwilling?) to act as Oracle for the time being. Not to mention that Drake was still MIA, looking for Father.

Between his duties as Robin, picking up the slack from the others, keeping himself and Grayson alive and as unharmed as they could be, and maintaining his civilian cover, could he really be blamed for not having the time to read his brother’s letters?

Yes.

There was still no news on Father. Drake was looking for him, chasing down leads that no one else had, but everyone else had given up. Grayson had taken to staying in Father’s room, crying when he thought no one was around because he wasn’t supposed to ever be Batman. Todd hadn’t bothered to contact anyone, but he hadn’t been too keen on the possibility of Father being alive from the very beginning. Pennyworth had seemed to come to the Acceptance stage and was moving on, doing as he always did. Cain, Brown, and Gordon weren’t around much, either, but it was clear they, too, had given up on Father’s life. The citizens of Gotham were much the same, offering sympathies and waiting for their declaration and a funeral date.

Damian was not prepared for any news other than his Father being around. He knew, in the back of his mind, that they were only holding off on the official announcement until Drake returned. If he didn’t return, then Damian supposed he would be the only one holding Grayson back from announcing Father’s death.

What a terrible burden to put on a child’s shoulders.

Damian found himself, once again, sitting in Father’s office. It was the one place no one ever went, not even to get to the Cave, so he was completely alone with Alfred the cat. The grandfather clock didn’t tick, but the hum of electricity from the elevator behind it was steady in the room, grounding Damian, keeping him from losing himself in his head.

The quiet was always a reprieve for him. In Nanda Parbat, there was always some noise, no matter how subtle or hidden. Footsteps only heard if you were listening for them, barely-there whispers of breath, wind against the walls and roof, murmurs of orders being relayed, the clink of weapons meeting, grunts from training, splashes from injuries, water flowing, snow melting, crops being tended to, animals. It all had a sound.

Silence, to everyone else, was foreboding; the tale tell signs of something not being right; the calm before a storm. To an assassin, silence was like coming home. Silence meant that they would be okay, that they’d live to see another day.

Damian relished in the silence of his Father’s office because it proved that he had been there. The room was empty, grieving for the man that had become lost, but it proved to Damian that his Father had been there. In some way, it brought him closer to his Father.

It was in the silence of his Father’s office that he spoke. Things he’d never been allowed to say with his Mother, things that he’d rather die than admit to anyone but himself.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, his hand petting Alfred’s head, “I really don’t know what to do.”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? He’d been raised by Grandfather and Mother to always know exactly what was going on. If he didn’t know what was going on, he was to act like he did. Situations stayed in his control that way. Now, though, he couldn’t even pretend to know what was going on or what to do. Everyone was falling apart at the seams, overworked, stressed. No one had time for anything because they were all trying to fill the space Bruce left by pulling in every direction except in.

He felt like he was standing in the middle of a tornado. Father was gone, Pennyworth was trying to keep some form of normality, Grayson was trying to fill shoes that were never made for him to wear, Drake was trying to fix everything by looking for the epicenter of it all, and everyone else was falling away.

Everyone was pulling away from each other and blaming everyone else. He didn’t know what to do and it scared him.

In the year he’d been in the Manor before Father disappeared, they’d all been trying to teach Damian that it was okay for him to just be a kid sometimes. It went against everything he’d been raised on and taught, but he found it…fun. It was nice to not have to be looking over his shoulder all the time. He didn’t have to worry about traitors coming after him or when his next assignment would be, nor how long he’d be away from home.

He almost regretted listening to them now. Because now Father’s gone, Grayson is stretched so thin that he looks ready to keel over, Drake is gone, Todd is silent, the girls are so far away-!

Damian’s just a little kid. He doesn’t know how to deal with the situation.

So, he sits in his Father’s office with Alfred the cat and talks. Whether he talks to himself, his cat, or his Father, he doesn’t know. He just talks.

“I am not trained to handle this situation, Alfred,” he told the tuxedo cat on his lap, “I don’t think any of the others are, either.” He wanted to curl up, to pull his knees to his chest and bury his face in his arms. He wanted to cry. “I don’t know what to do.”

Danyal would know what to do.

But Danyal’s not here because Damian is a coward.

*

There are moments that Damian keeps close to his chest. Things that not even Mother knows. Moments when he and Danyal would sneak onto rooftops and speak of what scared them; moments when it was just him and his brother, telling stories they’d made up on their own; moments when they’d teach other what they were lacking at or in; moments curled up in the chicken coop or in the shed behind the greenhouses; moments where they could just be kids.

Damianand Danyal often found themselves alone together, shaking bodyguards or traitors - it was hard to tell who was who - off their tail and hiding in places only they could reach. They’d been praised by Grandfather for being so small, able to fit in the least likely of places, making missions take shorter amounts of time purely because they were small enough to go to their targets instead of waiting for them to come out.

One of their favorite places to be were the caves under Nanda Parbat. Not the Lazarus Pit caves! They’d never go near those. These caves were hidden from the others, too hard for adults to get to.

“We’re going to be too big to fit in here soon, ahki,” Danyal whispered, his voice carrying in the open space.

Damian clicked his tongue. “Then we will need to find somewhere else to make our own, akhi.”

Danyal frowned, “And leave Goliath all alone? No way!”

A sigh. “Unfortunately, Goliath will have to stay here in the caves. He was born here; he will be fine.”

A pout. “We could take him with us!”

“Where would we keep him?”

“In our rooms?”

“He’s down here because he got too big for us to keep in our rooms. He’s only going to get bigger.”

“Well, I’m not leaving him here.”

“Well, he can’t come with us.”

“We could keep him higher up the peak!”

“And keep him from his natural habitat? I think not.”

“How do you know that this is his natural habitat?”

“Because-” He cut himself off, Danyal doing the same.

Just in the distance, close enough to make out words, they heard voices. Some of the Shadows had followed them down and were looking for them. Quickly, they hid in the darkest corners of the cavern, the fire doused and Goliath preparing to attack.

The four Shadows came and passed, their carried conversation hinting that they were traitors in the ranks. After ten more minutes of nothing but silence, Damian and Danyal slunk from their hiding spots.

Danyal patted Goliath’s snout. “Sorry, bud, but we’ve gotta go.”

Damian nodded, also petting the dragon bat’s nose. “We will return when we can. In the meantime, Grandfather will want to know what we’ve learned.”

“When will he return?”

“Grandfather and Mother should both be here within the month. We will tell them then.”

Little moments that no one would think twice about until they’re all they have left. Memories of someone just out of their reach. Damian had a lot of those moments of Danyal and himself, all held very closely. He didn’t have nearly as many with Father, only as many as the fingers on his hand. Grayson tried his best to make up for the time Father was missing, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t know what it felt like to have a father, but spending time with Grayson felt close to what he knew it should be.

“Any news from Drake?” Damian asked as he sat in front of Grayson at the table. He snuck a look at the shrunken pile of letters, but didn’t see another one with his name on it. He didn’t know what he expected. It had been six months.

Grayson shook his head, his long hair greasy and in his face. He was mostly focused on the paperwork in front of him. Some of it from his day job, but most of it was from case files he was working on as Batman. “Nope, still radio silence from Tim, Jason, Steph, and Cass.”

“What of Gordon?”

He sighed. “She’s not talking to me much, but I get it. Life happens. She told me she’ll get back to helping us out as soon as she can, but I don’t think that’ll be for a while.”

“I see,” Damian fell silent. “What of the WAR case?”

Grayson sighed heavier, his hands running through his hair again. “I still can’t get a hold of their leader. The guy’s slippery, and anyone working with him is just as!”

Damian hummed. “Perhaps you should let me focus on that case.”

“What? No, I can’t-”

“You’re stretching yourself too thin, Grayson, you will end up killing yourself if you do not take a step back.”

Grayson looked up for the first time since Damian had joined him with a concerned frown on his face. “Where’s this coming from, Dames?”

Damian didn’t react to the nickname. “If you die, then I will be alone.” he stated. Then, he stood, took the WAR case file from Grayson, and left the room. “Get some sleep.”

He found himself in his room, the case file in his hands, but all his attention on the locked top drawer. Danyal would know what to do. Danyal, despite being younger, always excelled with social lessons. He was always the fastest thinker, coming up with solutions to problems before they could become problems.

He opened the drawer, the key hanging around his neck at all times. Inside was every letter his brother had sent him. On the very top were the three he hadn’t brought himself to read open. If he read them now, would Danyal even want to hear from him? It’s been six months.

Damian closed the drawer, locking it, and hiding the key under his shirt again. He was quick to leave his room, taking the WAR case file with him to his Father’s office. He could focus there where the unopened letters weren’t looming over him.

Damian is a coward.

Translation 1 - Arabic: I hope everything is okay

Part 4 Part 6 Artwork

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

I found Bruce, we’re on our way back now. ETA 2 days. Have the med-bay prepped.

***

Damian rushed to the Batcave as soon as the alert came through on his phone, he found Grayson doing the same. Everyone had likely gotten the message, but they were the only two close enough to actually get to the Cave and read what was sent. When they arrived, however, they both froze. In big, bold letters on the largest screen was the confirmation that he had been waiting a year for. Drake had found Father, and is bringing him home.

He felt an overwhelming something overcome him. Father’s alive. Father’s okay. Father’s coming back. Drake is bringing Father back.

“Damian!” Grayson shook his shoulders, “Are you okay?”

It took a few more seconds, but Damian nodded his head, “Yes, Richard, I’m fine.”

Richard froze for a second. “What did you..call me?”

“‘Richard’?” Damian raised his eyebrow. “That is your name, isn’t it?” When Richard didn’t answer, standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face, Damian went to the elevator, “I will inform Alfred of Drake’s status report. You should tell the others.” The doors closed behind him, cutting off his view of the Cave, and he found himself able to breathe again.

Father’s coming home.

He was quick to leave the office, making sure the grandfather clock closed behind him. Finding Alfred was easy, telling him about the message Drake just sent was not. He stood dumbly in the kitchen doorway, half in the dining room and half in the kitchen.

“Is there something I can help you with, young master Damian?”

Damian’s mouth felt dry and his eyes felt wet. “Um,” A stutter? Really?

“Young master Damian?” Alfred approached him, “Is everything alright?”

He swallowed. “Yes, Alfred, everything’s fine.”

“Good,” the panic Damian hadn’t noticed left the old man’s face, but there was still an expression of uncertainty. “Drake sent an emergency message: He’s found Father. They’ll be returning in two days. He requested that the medical bay be prepared, but he did not specify.”

Alfred lost some of the composure he so dutifully held. His shoulders slumped and relief fell off of his frame like a weight. He suddenly seemed much older than he ever acted. Between three blinks, he was back to his perfect butler self. “I will have everything ready for your brother’s and father’s return.” he nodded.

Damian nodded back and turned to leave the room. He was numb all the way to his bedroom, only stopping to pet Alfred the cat, but only for a few seconds.

He closed the door behind himself, locking it, before sliding down it to sit on the floor. Father was coming home. He knew that he couldn’t be dead! He knew he wouldn’t have stayed dead! He curled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, buried his face in his knees, and cried.

*

They heard the Batplane before they saw it only because the doors opening to let it land let in a rush of wind.

Only Damian, Alfred, and Richard were in the Cave to receive Father and Drake. Todd hadn’t answered Richard or Alfred in nearly nine months, and the only way they knew he was alive was because Red Hood was still ruling Crime Alley. Gordon had been elated to hear of their return, but was currently otherwise occupied. Cain and Brown were still in Hong Kong, but they had promised to be back as soon as they could.

The next people Richard had contacted had been Superman and Wonder Woman. He alerted them that something had come up and that Batman and Robin would not make it to the meeting on the Watchtower the next day. In a very Batman fashion, he didn’t elaborate and hung up on them.

Damian had to wonder, though, through the preparations of getting everything ready for Father’s and Drake’s return, what would Father think about how everything fell apart after he went missing? Things hadn’t been perfect before, but they had held together. Now, they’d all fallen away from each other, despite Richard’s best efforts. Even then, he’d stopped after four months of almost nothing but rejection and static.

The second the drophatch was fully down, Alfred and Richard were on the plane, loading Father onto a gurney so they could wheel him to the med-bay. It was hardly a fight, with Father being as out of it as he was, so it was a quick process. Soon, Alfred, Richard, and Father were in the medical bay, leaving Damian and Drake together.

It was a quiet few moments, the two watching the three older men from across the Cave until they disappeared behind the door. Finally, Damian turned to Drake. “Thank you,” he said, “for bringing him back.”

Drake scoffed. “It’s not like you ever believed me that he was alive.”

“I did,” he ducked his head down, “but I did not help you, nor did I try to convince the others. For that I-” He’s been working on this part, actually, since Drake sent the notice of return. “-I apologize.”

“You,” Drake asked, his tone full of disbelief, “are apologizing to me?”

He nodded. “I recognize that I have been…uncouth towards you, and I would like to rectify our relationship going forward.” He inwardly scolded himself for sounding so stilted and awkward. Speaking to people had always been Danyal’s area of expertise. “I understand, however, if you would prefer to not have anything to do with me. In which case, I will do my best to stay away.”

Drake was quiet for a few minutes, not moving or speaking. Soon, though, Damian figured his older…brother wanted nothing to do with him, so he started to walk away. He didn’t let his disappointment show, though. He had no business feeling that way. It was his own fault after all, his own actions that pushed Drake away. He pushed everyone away, actually.

“Wait-!” Drake called. Damian turned slightly to face him. “I, uh, do you mean it?”

“Do I mean what, Drake?”

“Wanting to be…friendlier? You really mean it?”

Turning back fully. “Yes,” he didn’t meet his eyes, “When I was with Mother, she taught me to take what should be mine by force and or of elimination. Grandfather, when I saw him, taught me that my weaknesses should be quashed and that the weaknesses of my enemies should be exploited for all they would give. While you have been searching for Father, the Manor has felt empty, cold. It’s not at all what it was when I first arrived and I cannot help but feel as though a part of that is my own fault for pushing everyone away, even before Father went missing. Todd hasn’t communicated with any of us for nearly nine months, Gordon has been busy with her day job and her father, Cain and Brown have been in Hong Kong with low contact, you’ve been MIA for almost a year-!” He hated how tears welled up in his eyes. “Richard has been trying to keep everything together by being someone he was never meant to be, and the one person I was ever allowed to rely on probably hates me!” He hated the sob that escaped him. He hated that he was breaking down.

Drake sighed quietly. “You really are just a kid, huh.” Slowly, he approached Damian and put his hand on his shoulder. “Is this alright?” After a second, there was a nod. He pulled him into a hug, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders to hold his head to his chest. “What about this?” Another nod.

Damian wrapped his arms around Timothy’s waist, burying his face into the older boy’s chest, staining the material with his tears. He hated that he was showing weakness, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care at the moment. “I just want the Manor to be warm again.” he whispered.

Timothy pet his hair softly. “I know, kid. I think that can be arranged, but I don’t know how long that will take.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Damian sniffled and pulled away, wiping his tears as soon as Timothy’s hands dropped to his sides. “We will not speak of this.”

Timothy chuckled, “Alright.” His right hand moved to hold his bottom left ribs. “First step to taking care of that promise, though,” he wheezed, “is getting me some medical treatment.”

“You’re an idiot, Timothy.” Damian scolded with no heat behind his words. He carefully slid under Timothy’s left arm, lopping his right around his waist to hold him up. “You better not be hurt enough to be at risk of dying.”

“And break my new promise to you?” Timothy sounded offended, though he was smiling. “Never.”

“I will stab you in the spleen.”

“You’d injure me more, brat.”

“That would be the point, yes.”

“Did our heartfelt moment just now mean nothing to you?”

“Seeing as emotions are not labeled on a linear scale, therefore unable to be counted on a negative scale, yes. It meant nothing.”

“You hurt me, brat.”

“Good.”

Quiet covered the two for a moment. “Y’know, this doesn’t make up for the year’s worth of shit you put me through after you first got here, right?”

Damian nodded. “I know.”

“Good.” Timothy’s words were slurring now.

Damian shifted his grip to carry more of the older boy’s weight. “Rest, Timothy. Alfred will look over you when he is done with Father.”

Timothy shook his head. “No. I gotta- file miss’on ‘port.”

“You cannot even see straight, Timothy-”

“‘m bi.”

“...you cannot see gay right now, either. Sleep. You can file a mission report when Alfred clears you.”

“‘ou’re not gon’ let me go, are ya?” Timothy droned tiredly.

“That would be the correct assumption, yes.”

Timothy huffed. “Fine.” Then, he collapsed.

Had Damian not been ready, he would’ve dropped the older vigilante on the Cave’s floor. As it was, he’d already been holding most of his weight. While it was awkward to carry the taller boy the rest of the way across the Cave and into the med-bay, it was not hard.

He ignored the looks he got from Richard and Alfred as he laid Timothy down on an empty cot in the corner of the room furthest from the door. Without saying anything, he left them to go back to the Manor. He stopped by the Batcomputer, though, to see if any of the others had sent anything. There was one from Todd simply reading ‘The old man didn’t die? Tsk’. He left it on the screen and entered the elevator, taking it up to the Manor.

Father’s office was warmer now that the man was back home. The Manor itself seemed to be that much brighter, as though the building was aware of its master’s return. The constant hum of electricity in the walls seemed to have a cheerful not to it. Even the sky he could spy above Gotham City proper was showing dull blue through the smog!

Alfred the cat joined him as he walked up the stairs to his room. It was nestled in the corner a door down from Timothy’s, four doors down and across the hall from Todd’s, four doors down from Richards, two doors down and across the hall from Cain’s, and one door down and across the hall from Brown’s. The doors themselves seemed less imposing as before, ready to re-welcome whoever stayed behind them.

He hesitated in front of his own door, the slab of hardwood looming over him. Steeling himself took a moment too long, but he finally managed to open the door. “There’s nothing to be scared of; it’s just your room.”

Inside, nothing had been disturbed. The traps on the window and around the room lay ready to be set off, and none had been activated or disarmed. He found his attention drawn to his desk between the two windows, the silver chain around his neck feeling heavier by the second.

Danyal would want to know Father is safe and home.

Damian hasn’t even bothered to read Danyal’s last three letters.

Danyal would want to know that he’s okay.

Damian’s a coward.

*

One week after Father returned home, Richard made the official statement to the press. He told them that the Private Investigators they’d hired had found and brought him home. The kidnappers had all been incarcerated.

Father had yet to wake up.

Timothy had awoken three days later, completely cleared for civilian life and desk work. He wasn’t yet allowed to go out as Red Robin, but he did file his mission report. An entire year’s worth of adventures had only taken eighteen hours to log. Damian suspected things had been left out, but he didn’t mention it.

Todd hadn’t sent anything after his initial message, but he was now reading the messages sent to him by Richard.

Cain and Brown could not yet pull themselves from Hong Kong, but they were in near constant contact with Richard, Alfred, or Tim.

Gordon had managed to rejoin them as Oracle the day after Timothy awoke, jumping at the opportunity to talk to any of them.

Damian found a little part of him that was upset by everyone suddenly rushing back together, but he did not have a valid reason to be upset. Richard and Timothy had reason to be upset, and it was not up to Damian to be upset for them. So, he buried that little voice and went on with his routine.

He and Richard were still going out as Batman and Robin, but that would only last until Father was cleared for duty. Then, Father would retake the Batman Cowl, Damian would remain Robin, and Richard would go back to being Nightwing. Honestly, Damian had no idea how to feel about that. He ignored that voice, too. Instead, he focused on the WAR case he’d taken from Richard.

WAR; We Are Robin. A meta-human opened up the movement with his team, eight months ago. He seemed to have realized that Richard had takenFather’s place under the cowl and had acted accordingly. Or, this had always been a plan for him, but that was unlikely because the kid is fourteen and untrained. He acts during the day, leaving the night to the trained vigilanties, and he has a network that spans all of Gotham, probably already branching out into neighboring cities. As soon as he could, Robin reached out with intents to set up a meeting. The response was swift. Three days after Timothy woke up, Robin left the Batcave in the middle of the day to meet R.

He stood on the roof of Wayne Enterprise with Oracle in his ear, ready to call for backup if he needed it. He wouldn’t. After nearly five minutes of waiting, R landed on the rooftop in front of him, several feet of space between them.

The teen moved with all the grace of a sportsman, untrained in combat, but not wasting a single movement or breath. His suit was yellow and black, the visor of his helmet tinted white, and the Robin R sat proudly in the middle of his chest. The red stood out garishly against the bright yellow

“Robin,” the teen greeted.

“R,” Robin nodded back.

“I’m surprised,” R’s stance was casual, but ready to move at a moment's cue. “Last I heard, Batman was hunting down those of us involved in WAR. Then, he stops and I get a message from you a few months later. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Robin hoped that this child wasn’t nearly this insufferable as a civilian. He sniffed, still new to the whole negotiating aspect of vigilantism. “I wish to invite you to work with us.”

There was a beat. “Excuse me?”

Robin continued. “Batman has a rule of no meta’s in Gotham because the danger the city poses to you could potentially make you a threat to the citizens. You operating within city limits has upset him, naturally, but it has done the city good.”

R stared at him for a few seconds. “Does he know you’re here?”

“No, but he will if I need him to.”

Another few beats. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

Unfamiliar with the phrase, Robin ignored it. “In exchange for wearing the Bat Symbol on your chest, you will be under Batman’s protection, and, by extension, the protection and assistance of everyone who wears the symbol.”

“You don’t wear the bat,”

“It goes without saying that I work for and with Batman. I do not need the symbol when the title is enough.”

“If you say so, kid.”

“I do.”

“What will the big bad Bat think about you going off on your own like this?”

“He trusts my judgment,” Richard does, at least. Sometimes. “He will leave you alone as long as I can vouch for you. I will do so as long as you follow Batman’s rules to the best of your ability.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that as long as you are wearing the bat on your chest, you work for and with Batman and his allies. Courtesies extended to us will be extended to you, and vice versa. Once you are cleared, our identities will be shared between each other and your training will begin.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. Training? Revealing identities? Isn’t that a bit too far ahead to be thinking right now?”

“Not in the slightest, Thomas,” The older kid noticeably stiffened, his stance ready to flee rather than fight. “I know who you are. Batman will likely find out when I present this proposal to him. It is in your best interest to agree to work with us.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a threat, kid,”

Robin tilted his chin down. “I apologize, that was not my intention.” His nose scrunched up. “I have been working to better my ‘people skills’, as the others called it.”

R snorted, relaxing a bit, “Since you know who I am, do I get to know who you are?”

Robin shook his head. “Telling you my name would reveal the others. I have cleared you myself, but Batman will need to clear you before we tell you who we are.”

“Doesn’t that mean I have to wait to get the bat, then?”

“No. It means that you will have to wait before we can start your training.”

“Alright. So, when do I get the bat? Because, and no offense to you, but this red R totally throws off my whole vibe.”

A smile quirked at the corner of Robin’s lips. “I will have to for you tomorrow. Meet me back here at fifteen-hundred hours.”

“Can do, kid.”

With the clear farewell, Robin jumped off the roof of the building and grabbed a few streets away, feeling like he was flying. Then, once he landed, he used the entrance hidden in the back of the empty parking garage to get down to the cave systems under Gotham. From there, it was an easy hour walk to the Batcave.

*

Once again, Damian finds himself staring at the locked top drawer of his desk. The key was in his hand, the chain dangling from it. It felt heavy, warm to the touch, though that’s probably because he’s been holding it for three hours.

There was a knock on the door, but he didn’t answer. Someone said something on the other side, but he didn’t hear it. The drawer was taunting him; the key was mocking him. He was stuck in a limbo between opening the drawer and facing the music or leaving it be and risking his brother’s wrath.

“Damian?” Richard had come into the room and was now standing in front of him. “Is everything alright, bud?”

Damian set the key on the bed next to him before standing. “Yes, I am fine, Richard. What do you need?”

Richard eyed the key, but didn’t mention it. “B’s awake. I thought you’d like to go talk to him.”

“Very well,” he left his room, waiting for Richard in the hallway, “Let’s go.”

Richard looked very much like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He quietly led the way down to the Batcave, using the fireman's pole in the first floor closet instead of the elevator in Father’s office. Then, he took Damian to the med-bey.

There, sitting propped up on the bed, was Father, brushing off Alfred’s insistence for a check up. He looked up when the door opened, his face softening at the sight of his children. “Dick, Damian.”

“Hey, B,”

“Father,”

Father opened his arms and waited a second. Richard didn’t hesitate, rushing into the man’s hug. “You’re an idiot, Bruce!”

“I know,” Father cooed softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again, do you hear me? Never again!” Richard cried, “And you can’t die, either! If you do, I’ll kill you myself.”

Father chuckled, “Alright, alright. I promise.”

Richard pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his sleeve across his face. “Good, good.” He sniffled. “I should let everyone else know you’re awake.”

“How’s Tim?” Father asked.

“He’s fine,” Richard reported, “He woke up a little over a week ago.”

Father’s next question was, “How long was I gone?” followed closely by, “How long have I been back?”

Richard laughed wetly, humorlessly. “You were gone for a year. We told the press that you were kidnapped. Speaking of, I posted an official announcement of your return; you can look at it later. As for how long you’ve been back, well,”

“Timothy recovered you three weeks ago,” Damian cut in, “After two days, you both arrived in the Cave. You were unconscious upon arrival, Timothy passed out shortly thereafter. He woke up after three days and was cleared to go out six days later.”

A dark look crossed over Father’s face. “How’s Gotham?”

“Not totally destroyed,” Richard’s attempt at a joke fell flat. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you two talk.” He was swift to leave the room, leaving Father and Damian alone.

Damian stared at his Father, taking in his appearance and noting down every injury he could see. He seemed haggard, tired despite having only just woken up. He wanted to ask what happened, but he didn’t. “It’s good to see you, Father.”

“Damian,” Father’s arms twitched like he wanted another hug. Damian picked up on it and walked forward, wrapping his arms around his Father. Father embraced him, his grip tightening around him. “Damian, I’m so, so sorry I left you alone. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” he responded, “I do not hold it against you.”

“You should.”

“Will it happen again?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“That I will not blame you.” He hid his face in his Father’s shoulder, “Do not leave us again.”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry!”

He didn’t say anything, opting to hold his Father close. He had been scared, but so was everyone else, so was Father. Damian couldn’t begin to imagine what Father had gone through. Where had he been? Why had it taken so long to find him? Why didn’t he come back? Why couldn’t he come back? Timothy hadn’t been forthcoming with any answers, but that was okay. Damian could wait until either Father or Timothy shared.

After several long minutes, Father pulled away and Damian sat on the edge of the bed. “So, when were you planning on telling me about your brother?”

Damian stiffened. “What?”

“I got thrown into the Time Stream, I think. A kid who looks strangely like you, if only a little older, helped me when he could. So, either there’s a clone of you with access to Time Travel running around, or you have a sibling you haven’t told me about.”

“I-” he found himself unable to form the words. After a few false starts, he finally managed, “He disappeared when we were children.” Father tensed. “I have only come back into contact with him fairly recently, but that is because he reached out first.” Father relaxed, but Damian didn’t.

“You’re talking to him now?” Damian didn’t answer. “Are you talking to him still?”

He shook his head. “No. Too much has been happening since you went missing; I did not have the time.”

Father frowned. “Tell me what’s been going on, and then we’ll contact him together. How does that sound?”

Damian didn’t know how to feel about that. “That sounds good.”

The door to the med-bay opened and Timothy came in. “Bruce!”

“Tim,” the man smiled smally, “Thanks for finding me.”

Timothy snorted and leaned against the wall. “Someone had to, old man. Besides, those clues you left were way too vague for anyone else to figure out.”

Richard came back in after Timothy, choosing to sit in one of the chairs in the room. He didn’t say anything, but he did have a sad look on his face.

Father met the eyes of all three children. “Tell me exactly what’s happened in the year I’ve been gone.”

Timothy groaned. “Where do we even start?”

“You can start by telling me your cover story,” Father said, “And then you can tell me where everyone else is.”

Richard grimaced, his nose scrunching up as if the idea of explaining anything was appling. It was, actually, but Damian didn’t say anything. “Well, we told the press that you went missing.”

Father waited for him to continue. When he didn’t he prompted, “And the Justice League?”

“They, um, didn’t know?”

There were several long seconds where Father stared on in disbelief. “You didn’t tell the Justice League that I’d gone missing?”

“We did tell them!” Richard objected. “We told them that Bruce Wayne had gone missing-!”

“-and that Nightwing was doing undercover work, and that Red Robin was on a mission overseas.”

“And what about Batman?” Father asked, though it didn’t sound at all like a question.

Richard curled back slightly. “Batman and Robin were the ones to tell them…”

Father sighed long and hard. “Batman went missing, and Robin went after him.”

“Batman went missing, and Red Robin went after him.” Damian corrected, “Nightwing went undercover, Black Bat and Spoiler went to Hong Kong. Batman and Robin watched over Gotham with assistance from WAR.”

Father took a deep breath. “I’m…I’m sorry you had to do that, Dick.”

“It’s- Well, it’s not alright, but I can forgive you. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, Gotham needs Batman.”

“And Batman needs Robin,” Timothy added.

Suddenly, Father turned his gaze back to Damian. “You..?”

Damian nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry, boys,”

“So you keep saying,” Damian stated. “Father, I have been trained since birth to take over your mantle. Being Robin is just another step I must take. Timothy could not have gone after you as Robin without unwanted attention. Richard had no other choice than to become Batman because Gotham needs Batman. He will, however, be going back to Nightwing as soon as you’ve recovered enough to work, and after he’s had a break.”

“Baby bird-”

“You have been ripping apart at the seams, Richard,” Damian scolded, standing up to face him, “If you do not willingly take a break, I will knock you out and have Goliath watch over you.”

There was a moment of silence. “Um,” Timothy asked, “Who’s Goliath?”

“My dragon bat.” Damian answered as though it didn’t sound absolutely insane.

“You’re what?”

*

“You weren’t kidding, were ya, kid?” Thomas whistled.

Damian shook his head minutely. “I do not joke, especially not in uniform.”

Thomas sat on his new bed, taking in every inch of the room. “Yeah, but Wayne? How do you do it? The whole world thinks that there’s no way Bruce Wayne could be Batman, especially not after he went missing. How did you guys pull that off, by the way?”

“Simple,” Damian replied, “Father went missing, so Timothy went to look for him. I became Robin and Richard became Batman. Nightwing went undercover.”

“I-” he paused, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But what about the whole Bruce Wayne is Batman thing? How does he do it?”

“A trade secret,” was the answer, “You will learn eventually.”

“Damian! You can’t just leave me in the dark like that!”

Damian was by the door, so he turned the lights off. “Yes I can.” Then, he left. He could hear Thomas laugh for a few seconds before the older boy ran to match his pace.

“I thought you didn’t joke around?”

“I don’t.”

“But you just-”

“And no one will ever believe you.”

“No one will ever believe what?” Richard asked, coming out of his own room as they passed it.

Thomas blinked. “Damian made a joke.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Damian made a joke?”

The boy in question clicked his tongue. “Tt. Why would I make a joke, Thomas?”

“But you just-” Thomas spluttered, “-and the lights!”

“Lights?” Damian raised his eyebrow this time, “Lights are your thing, Thomas, in case you’ve forgotten.” He walked on, leaving the two behind him in the all.

“Hey!” Thomas whined, “Not funny, kid!”

He heard Richard laugh behind him, a smirk making its way across his face as he turned the corner. That was too easy. It will continue to be..fun, but only as long as Thomas plays along, willing or not.

Timothy joined him at the top of the staircase. “Did you really joke with Duke?”

Damian shook his head. “No,”

“Liar,” Timothy accused.

“I am not,” he denied.

Timothy shook his head with a sigh, following Damian down the stairs and to the dining room. Richard and Thomas joined them soon after. Father was absent, and so was Alfred. Todd had been leaving Richard on read still, which was better than not even looking at the messages. The girls were all missing, too, but they were otherwise engaged anyway. All that was missing, Damian thought as he looked around the table, was Danyal.

What would his family think about Danyal? Damian wondered. Father knew, but Damian wasn’t quite sure how, though he wasn’t too keen to ask because he didn’t want to answer. A part of him wanted to keep his twin brother a secret. A smaller part told him to tell everyone. The letters in his drawer agreed to being selfish and keeping him a secret. He wasn’t ready to share his brother with his family, even if Danyal had shared him with his.

“It’s good to have you back, B,” Richard said. When had Father arrived?

“It’s good to be back,” Father agreed with a nod, taking his place at the head of the table. The room felt warmer, more full than it had in a long time.

Timothy, who was a chair down from Damian, was typing on his phone, likely wording emails and trying to figure out the press. Now that he was back, that particular responsibility fell from Damian back to Timothy.

That was another thing Damian was slightly upset about, even though he felt he had no right to be. Everyone leaving had dumped all of their responsibilities onto him and Richard. Richard wouldn’t let him take some of the fall, so Damian had had to forcefully take some of the weight from his oldest brother, stressing himself out in the process.

“The press has been dying to get their hands on your story, B,” the seventeen year old stated, “Dick’s official announcement about you coming back has only made them more bloodthirsty.” He looked at Dick for a second before looking back down at his phone. “How did you deal with this?”

“That was my job, actually,” Damian said, “Richard was far too busy and stressed to be able to deal with the media properly, so I took it upon myself to do so.” He got looks from everyone at the table, though pity was the most prominent emotion.

“That explains why they weren’t hounding me as much as I thought they were,” Richardmuttered.

Thomas agreed, “That also explains your socials.”

“You follow my socials?”

“Everyone follows the Wayne socials, especially after Bruce went missing. Everyone wanted an update, and Damian was the only one to provide them via the family’s accounts and his personal ones.”

Timothy blinked, openly staring at Damian. “You don’t have any media training.”

“Not officially, no, but Grandfather praised me for learning in the moment; It prevented mistakes from happening again.”

A beat. “I’m gonna need to see all your posts in the last year from all the accounts you posted from, just to make sure we stick to the story you’ve created.” Timothy put down the phone he was holding and pulled another from his pocket. “Also, what’re the passwords to the family accounts? I’ll need those, too.”

“Good job, Damian,” Father said. Damian preened.

“Masters, if you’re quite through?” Alfred came into the room with the silver tray of mail that had been by the door. All new letters because the old ones had been sorted through and read shortly after Timothy woke up. “I will be back shortly with lunch.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Father nodded. He took the tray, sorting through the letters and handing them to their recipients. There was none for Damian. He tried not to let that hurt him as much as it did.

Part 5 Part 7

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools: Letters Between Brothers

Still no letter from Damian. He’d been checking the mailbox every day for a year, but he understood why. Kind of. He gets that Damian and his family were under a lot of stress after Mr. Wayne was kidnapped, and they're probably celebrating now that he’s back, but that still didn’t stop the tiny bit of hurt Danny felt whenever he noticed the lack of responses from his brother.

A bigger part of him was wondering why it was taking so long for Damian to respond. Sure, his father had gone missing, and that was a lot of stress, but now he was back and it’d been nearly four months, but there was still no letter.

Maybe Damian really did hate him. Or maybe he’d forgotten about him? He hoped neither was the case, but he knew both were possibilities.

“Tot nicio scrisoare, nu?” Jazz asked. She was fluent in Romanian now, having taken to the language like a fish to water. Part of that was probably because Danny refused to teach her Arabic unless she learned three other languages, all of which had to be derived from different alphabets.

“Nu.” his shoulders slumped after he closed the mailbox, letters for his parents in his hand.

Jazz nudged his shoulder with hers. “Curaj! Măcar știi că e bine? El și familia sa au postat în mod regulat pe rețelele lor de socializare.”

Danny huffed. “ابتهج، كما تقول. لو كان الأمر بهذه السهولة، لكنت أسعد شخص في العالم.”

“Ce a fost asta?” she glared playfully at him from the corner of her eye.

“Nimic!” he stated. “De unde știi că postează în mod regulat? Îi urmărești pe Waynes?”

“Bineînțeles că îi urmăresc pe Waynes! La început a fost pentru că toată lumea îi urmărește, dar apoi mi-ai spus că Damian Wayne este fratele tău? Nu puteam să nu-i urmăresc.”

“Eu nu... Cum ai aflat că Damian e fratele meu? Nu ți-am spus niciodată asta.”

“Pentru că sunt chiar atât de grozav!” She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she said this, the wind making it go all over. “Nu a fost așa de greu, Danny. Voi doi arătați aproape la fel.”

He sighed. “I mean, I guess we look sorta alike.”

“‘Sorta’?” she scoffed, “Have you seen a picture of him recently? If people see you two side-by-side, they’re gonna find out your twins. I’m surprised no one’s mistaken you for him yet.”

“I’m not in a high enough circle to be mistaken for him. Sure, maybe Sam’s parents would make the mistake if they didn’t hate me enough to recognise me on vibes alone.” He opened the front door. “Seriously, how do they do that? If I hadn’t already made sure, I’d think they were tracking me.”

“You checked for trackers?”

“You would not believe the kind of shit that my Mother taught me about. And if you thought that was bad, father is so much more paranoid.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow, closing the door behind her. “Brucie Wayne, the man who once went viral for getting so drunk that he kissed a reporter because he thought he looked like Superman?”

“Yep.”

“We are talking about the same man, yeah?”

Danny just shrugged. “Paranoia’s hereditary.”

“It’s really not.” Jazz said.

Danny led the way up the stairs, leaving the door to his room open after he walked in, changing the conversation as Jazz did the same. “Your Romanian is sounding pretty good!”

“‘Pretty good’?” she called back, “I’m fluent!”

“Yeah, but you still have an accent.”

“So do you!”

“Yes, but mine is purposeful.”

“Why?”

“Do make you look better.”

Because their rooms are diagonal from each other, the ball that Jazz threw landed in Danny’s room, bouncing off the wall and hitting his arm. “Jerk!”

He laughed, rubbing his arm. “You love me.”

“A moral obligation.”

He feigned hurt. “Is that all I am to you? A moral obligation?”

“Yes!”

“Ouch, Jazzy, that hurts. Truly.”

“I’m sure.” She leaned against the doorframe to his room, her arms crossed. “Will you teach me Arabic now? I learned A Latin-derived language like you told me to.”

He shook his head. “Three languages, remember? Three languages and then I would teach you Arabic.”

She groaned, rolling her head back and then to the left to glare at him. “Fine! Which one are you gonna teach me now?”

Danny thought for a moment, mentally rifling through the languages he knew. “Russian,” he decided, “it’s based off of Old East Salvic.”

“But that’s gonna take forever!” Jazz whined.

“No it’s not,” Danny shot back, “It only took me a few months to learn.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re like, a super-genius.”

“What does that make you? You’re smarter than me.”

“Evidently not,” she huffed. “Where do I start?”

He grabbed a book off his shelf, one he’d bought two years into his stay with the Fentons. “The Cyrillic Alphabet. It’s what Russian uses.”

Jazz flipped through the Russian dictionary. “These are just straighter versions of the English Alphabet.”

“Not quite,” Danny said, “But, yeah.”

Jazz sighed, closing the book. “Great. Another year of studying before you make me learn another language before Arabic. What’s it gonna be that time, huh? Korean?”

“I was actually thinking Japanese.”

She groaned again, walking away to her room. “That was a joke, D!”

“No it wasn’t!” Her door closed in response. Danny huffed a laugh before closing his own door and settling at his desk.

He sighed, looking at the homework page. It was all stuff he already knew, stuff he’d been taught when he was a kid. When were they going to get to stuff he didn’t know?

It probably didn’t help that he got so bored doing his homework that he took college courses instead. At least those had material he’d not gotten the chance to learn in Nanda Parbat! If he got his Bachelor's early, would Jack and Maddie let him drop out, or would they make him get a GED? He already had one, but that wasn’t the point. Maybe, if he got his Masters? Though, that would mean he’d have to actually choose something to major in, and Danny wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of commitment.

A lie. He was stuck between majoring in linguistics and astronomy. A problem for later Danny, he decided.

In the past year, he’d taken very quickly to astrology. It was fun, learning new things and beliefs about the stars and planets. He’d tried to get Sam and Tucker interested, but neither took to it very much. They’d tried, like good friends, but it didn’t click with them. However, Sam did start looking into magic and stuff, which then got him into magic and stuff. Tucker wasn’t into it, but they’d managed to combine all of their interests into one.

The computer code Tucker and Danny had started was coming along well, for them being barely in eighth grade. It was designed to look like a star chart, but the code itself had runes mixed in. None of them were really sure if the runes would do anything, but they thought they looked cool, so the runes were left in.

They were nowhere near a final product, but they were making good progress. Probably due to the fact that they were spending as much time as they could on it. It was hard to keep it a secret from everyone, though. They’d originally wanted to tell Jazz, but she hadn’t shown any interest in any of their hobbies, so they didn’t. Maybe in the future?

That’s what Danny opted to work on instead of his homework. He had designed the star chart based off of what he’d had access to at the time, but now more stars were being discovered and more planets were being introduced. It wasn’t going to be officially part of their coding project, but he figured it’d be nice to have anyway.

The problem with making a new star chart was that he had nowhere to hang it. His walls all had posters on them, and furniture blocked what space there was. The door was too small, either. Sure, he could move stuff around, but that was a lot of work he really didn’t want to do. However, he looked up, his ceiling was looking mighty plain.

However, after staring at it for nearly twenty minutes, he found it hard to focus on the star chart, too. His thoughts kept wandering back to his brother. Was Damian alright? Why hadn’t he replied? Even a small, one-sentence scrap of paper would’ve been a nice reprieve from his anxiety!

He toyed with the idea of sending another letter, despite that he’d told his brother he’d wait, but he didn’t. He very nearly did several times, but he managed to pull himself away from doing so. He didn’t think it’d be appreciated at all.

He groaned in frustration and harshly shoved his chair away from his desk, standing up and shoving it back into place. Then, he left his room. He needed a distraction that wouldn’t make him focus.

He grabbed his phone and opened the chat he had with Sam and Tucker and told them his problem. They both agreed to come over to hang out. Danny didn’t think he’d ever get tired of being around his friends, no matter what. He hoped they felt the same way, too.

Impatiently, he waited by the front door for his friends to arrive. When they did, they found themselves haphazardly sprawled over the couch and chairs on the main floor. They weren’t really doing anything other than sitting together, the TV turned on with a low volume for white noise.

Eventually, though, Sam asked, “So, what’re your parents working on in the basement?”

Danny shrugged as best he could from how he was laying, his legs over the back of the chair and his head hanging upside down. “The same thing as always; the Ghost Portal.” He was heavy on the sarcasm of the title. It was completely inane and unoriginal.

Sam perked up. “They’ve actually been working on a portal?”

“Yeah,” he answered, “Since they were in college, I think.”

“Really?” Tucker asked, his interest peaked.

A nod. “Yep.”

“Can we go see it?” the other boy asked again.

Danny hesitated. “Um, I’m not sure. My parents aren’t home right now, I don’t know if the lab’s messy…or safe.”

“It can’t be that bad!” Sam jumped up from her own chair, “C’mon! Just a quick look!”

Tucker, too, stood, “Yeah, man. We won’t touch anything. Scout’s Honor!”

“You’re not a scout,” Danny said, though he stood with them.

“Please?” Sam said, “You know we’ll just go down there anyway, with or without you.”

Tucker was the one to hesitate this time. “I don’t know about that. I mean, it’s a science lab. I don’t think I’d wanna go down there without someone who knows it well.”

“And you think that’s me?” Danny asked. Another look at his friends’ faces had him caving. “Alright, fine, but none of us are touching anything. Got it?”

“Loud and clear, man!” The two agreed.

He took the lead, stopping just before the entrance to the basement, the caution sign on the door not doing anything to dissuade either of his friends.”For the record: I don’t like this at all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam waved him off, “Tell it to the judge.”

With another heavy sigh, Danny opened the basement door and started down the steps, the other two following closely behind him, not closing the door behind them. The carpet on the stairs had been torn up and badly replaced with uneven linoleum tiles. The walls were also covered in the same sheet metal as the lab itself, cut and applied much more neatly than the stairs. The wall at the bottom of the stairs had been carved into shelves for cleaning supplies, a small vertical pocket having been cut out for a broom and a mop. To the right was another door, this one reinforced metal, that led into the lab. The doorframe was covered over in caution tape as a final warning.

Trudging on, Danny opened the vertically sliding door and walked into his parent’s lab. As he expected, it was messy. Papers were scattered around, half built somethings ended up where there wasn’t paper, blueprints were taped haphazardly to the walls, and there were tools scattered all over the floor. Garage shelves lined one wall, holding completed inventions. Whatever tools weren’t on the floor, and empty jars of all sizes.

The architect’s desk was against the wall with the door, filing cabinets stood on the other side of the desk, all the drawers open. The wall next to the door - not the same wall because of the corner turning in - was where the garage shelves were pushed, four of them taking up the entire wall. Directly across from the door and dest was the newest addition to the lab. A sliding door of reinforced glass led into the “weapons room” where the completed weaponry and safety equipment was all stored. Directly across from the garage shelves, set into the furthermost wall of the lab, was the pièce de résistance: The Ghost Portal.

The trio carefully stepped their way into the room, Danny picking up some tools from the floor so they had a spot to stand. As promised, they didn’t touch anything except for the tools which they piled in a corner.

“Whoa.” Tucker admired, “That’s so cool!”

“Not really,” Danny scrunched his nose up. It had been completed, but his parents hadn’t turned it on yet, saying that they were making sure they had everything ready before they did. Personally, he thought that they’d tried and failed to open it. The inside of it was still messy, but not nearly as bad as the lab floor was. He still didn’t like going near it; it gave him a bad feeling, and he’d been taught to trust his gut when logic was useless. Logic, when dealing with anything having to do with his parents, was use;ess, so he listened to his gut. His gut said to stay away, so he always did his best.

“You should go in it.” Sam suggested.

It took Danny a second to clock that she’d been talking to him. “What?”

“Go stand in it,” she elaborated, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her skirt, “I want a picture.”

“Then you go stand in it and I’ll take the picture!”

“You told us not to touch anything! Standing inside whatever that thing is is considered as touching it.”

Tucker shrugged when Danny looked to him for help. “Don’t look at me, man, she’s right. Besides, I think it’d make a pretty cool picture.”

“Not helpful.” he glared. A few seconds later, he groaned. “Alright, you guys win.” While they cheered, he marched himself over to the Armory, as his parents called it, and put on his HAZMAT suit. He hated the feel of the thing, but any form of safety was appreciated at the moment.

He subconsciously noted that the suit no longer felt completely like rubber, as though it had been remade with some kind of cloth that had rubber mixed in with it. Still, changed into it behind the curtain in the Armory. He would’ve much preferred to keep his clothes on under it, but it was too tight for that to be an option. Pulling the black gloves on, he rejoined his friends in the lab proper.

Sam cat-whistled at him. “You look miserable.”

“Like a wet cat.” Tucker agreed.

Danny scowled at them. “Yeah? Why don’t you put this thing on and stand in the portal?”

They both shook their heads. “Your own rules, D,” Sam reminded with a smirk. She held up her flip-phone, ready to take her picture. “Now, hurry up. I want to get outta here before your parents or Jazz comes down.”

Like Jazz would be caught dead coming down here willingly. “Why’d you ask to come down here if you didn’t wanna be caught down here?” Regardless, Danny relented, picking his way across the floor and to the empty mass of the portal lodged into the wall.

It was still as foreboding as the first - and only other - time it’d gone near it. It looked bright from this side, the combination of the bright lab lights and the LEDs lining the space behind it gave the illusion of brightness. Danny knew, however, that it was much darker on the inside.

He stepped over the threshold of the octagonal archway and into the dark, ten-foot void behind it. Again, as he’d observed the first time stepping into the thing, the glowing blue circuitry that was embedded into the metal sheeting on the walls seemed to make the hallway dimmer, the white LED work lights lining the floor doing nothing to brighten it. He knew there were cables on the floor, but he could no longer see them; his parents had covered them in black that matched the floor.

Not bringing a flashlight was probably a mistake.

The sound in the lab seemed nearly gone, too, taken over by the humming of electricity running through the ten-foot hallway he now stood in. He could hear faint murmurs of Tucker and Sam talking, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He had a really, really bad feeling about this.

Just before he turned around, he heard the distinct sound of a phone’s camera shutter. It cut through the electrical hum surrounding him like a hot knife through butter. It startled him, and he jumped. His foot caught on a cable, tripping him up. He flailed for a second,disappointing his Mother’s training, before catching himself on the wall. There was a soft click as his hand sunk into the wall. Behind him, there were two screams.

Danny’s final thought before the pain of the situation registered in his head was, “Now I’ll never get to touch the stars.”

Some think that when you die, it’s peaceful. Brain activity doesn’t stop for another five minutes after the body dies, so most people think that those five minutes is your life replaying for you as one final dream, lulling you into either your afterlife or into your next life or into non-existence.

The body dies, so sensation must stop, too, right? The brain stops sending signals to the body because it stops responding.

Danny would like to say that, in his humble opinion, as well as basing it off his own experience, those people are full of shit.

He died, but he didn’t stop feeling. Even when he’d been sure he’d gone numb from dying and reviving and dying and reviving over and over again, he still felt every signal that had been sent through his body.

Five minutes after the body dies, the brain dies. Danny’s didn’t, not even after ten minutes. It kept sending signals to his pain receptors, telling them that he was being ripped apart and pieced back together so fast that the actions were near simultaneous!

He wasn’t sure if it was just a rift into another dimension/world that had opened up on top and through him, or if another dimension/world had been dragged to and through him. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to know. He just knew that it was painful and that he wanted it to stop.

Overall, it wasn’t an experience he’d wish upon even his worst enemy.

“Danny!” He heard the sob over the ringing in his ears, though it was quiet and far away.

“Wha’?” he groaned, his hand moving to his head. “Wha’ t’e ‘ell?”

Two pairs of arms wrapped around him, sending a jolt of pain through his sensitive nerves. “Danny!”

He weakly pushed at them, trying to get them off because contact hurts! “‘et offa me!”

The two pulled back, fussing over him without touching him.

“Danny!” Tucker sobbed, “Are you okay? Obviously not; that was a stupid question. Can you see? Can you hear? Can you feel anything?”

Danny nodded. “I can feel that everything hurts,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He opened his eyes, closing them right after, then he tried again slowly. He blinked slowly a few more times before blinking normally. “My sight’s good…mostly.”

“‘Mostly’?” Sam demanded, “What do you mean ‘mostly’?”

He closed his left eye, opened it, then closed his right eye. “That’s not good.”

“What?” Tucker asked, “What’s not good? You can’t just say that-!”

“My left eye. I can’t see.”

“What?!”

He ignored them, focusing on his hearing. He covered his left ear, uncovered it, and covered his right. “Do me a favor and say something?” He recovered his left ear.

“Like- like what?” Tuck asked nervously. Both he and Sam were watching Danny’s hands.

Dany nodded, covering his right ear and uncovering his left. “Again?”

Sam spoke this time, “What do you want us to say?”

Danny froze for a second, scrambling to stand up. The two followed after, steadying him when he almost fell back down. His eyes widened and he forced Tucker onto his left side, keeping Sam on his right. “Say something, both of you.”

The two shared a look over his head before Sam said, “You’re scaring us, jerk, what’s wrong?” and Tucker said, “What’s going on, man?”

He stumbled again, his full weight dropping onto his friends as they caught him, sending all three of them to the floor in a heap. “...I can’t hear.”

It was quiet. “...what?”

“My-my left ear-! I- It’s ringing and I can’t hear-!”This would mess everything up! It couldn’t be permanent, right? It was just the aftershocks of whatever the hell just appended to him! He’d be fine in a few hours, a few day’s tops. He’d be able to hear again and see again. It’d be fine.

He forced his breathing to slow, focusing back on what Sam and Tuck were saying to him.

“Are-are you back with us, D?” He hated that her voice sounded so small. It didn’t suit her in the slightest.

He nodded. “Y-yeah. Let’s…let’s get outta here, yeah?”

The two nodded, each grabbing an arm to help him up. When he was standing again, an arm over either of his friends’ shoulders, he finally saw the portal.

It was toxic green, the colour of radiation in cartoons. The room seemed to be darker, near pitch closest to the portal, but it staved it off with its green glow. Was it absorbing the light? The overhead lights were all working perfectly fine. The green was moving, swirling with darker green lines mixed in with it. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

They left the lab.

*

Sam’s parents paid for Danny’s hospital trip a week later. For as much as they hated him, they weren’t about to let him pay for a hospital trip with his own allowance because his parents were neglectful and didn’t even know he’d been hurt.

And Sam promised to wear pink at the next party she’d attend.

So, Danny sat on the hospital bed, waiting for the doctor or nurse or someone to come tell him that his hearing and sight were going to come back. They asked a lot of questions that he didn’t like, but he answered them anyway.

“How did this happen?”

“There was an accident in my parents’ lab.”

“Where were your parents?”

“Gone. They left the lab unlocked and I wanted to see what they were working on.”

This was his fault. Under no circumstances were Tucker or Sam to take any of the blame. He got hurt because of his own stupidity.

The doctor had told him and Sam’s father - because he wasn’t allowed to go alone - that they’d have to call Jack and Maddie and explain the situation. He begged them not to; they had enough on their plates! Besides, it’s not like they’d care. He didn’t let them call Jazz, either. She had enough to worry about. He can take care of himself. He did, however, compromise with them. Until he turned eighteen, his legal guardian changed, or he became emancipated, Jeremy Manson was to be alerted wherever he had to go to the hospital. Jeremy was slightly upset by this, but he allowed it. He didn’t like Dany, but he hated the Fenton parents even more. Besides, it would look good socially if it was found out by the public.

“Thank you for being here, Mr. Manson.” Danny said. They were still waiting for the doctor to come back.

Mr. Manson gave a tight smile. “It’s okay. I don’t like you, but I don’t want to see you hurt.” He sighed in frustration. “It’s no secret that me and Pamala don’t like your parents, but this only puts them in an even worse light. What are they thinking? Leaving their lab unlocked-! No, even having a lab in the first place!”

“Mr. Manson!” Danny called, “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, Daniel. You got seriously hurt. Your friend Tuker or my darling Samantha could’ve been seriously hurt! That’s not anywhere near okay!”

“‘Danyal’.” he corrected lightly, “My name is pronounced ‘Danyal’. And it’s okay because it was my fault.”

Mr. Manson shook his head again, locking eyes with Danny. “Listen to me, Danyal-” Danny smiled slightly at the pronunciation correction. “-This is not your fault. Your parents allowed access to their lab by leaving the door unlocked. Anything that happened in that lab was their fault, okay?”

Danny shook his head. “But-”

“No,” the man cut off. He took a breath and sat down. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

He hesitated for a moment, weighing his options in his head. On one hand, he could totally handle keeping it a secret. On the other hand, what did he have to keep secret? It would probably be good for an adult to know what happened, especially on the off chance that he doesn’t actually fully heal from it.

Danny took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t be mad at anyone?”

Confused, Mr. Manson nodded, “No more than I already am.”

“Okay,” he nodded to himself, “Okay. So, We were at my place, watching TV. I mentioned what my parents were working on, and Sam said she wanted to see it. I told them it was a bad idea, but Tucker wanted to, too, and I wasn’t about to let them go down there on their own and potentially get hurt!” He breathed deep again. “Sam said she wanted a picture of the portal - that’s what my parents have been working on - and she told me to go stand in it. I told her to go stand in it because I’ve been in it before - last year about - and I didn’t like it because it gave off a weird vibe. Anyway, she and Tuck ganged up on me because I told them not to touch anything in the lab and they made me go stand in the portal. I changed, and stepped into the thing.” Another deep breath. “But, it’s really weird in there because it’s so dark, no matter how much light there was in the tunnel or in the lab itself - and it was really quiet, too. I didn’t know that Sam was gonna take the picture, so when she did, the sound startled me- It just sounded so loud…” He slowed down a bit with a smaller inhale. “I tripped and caught myself on the wall, but I guess my parents put the ‘on’ switch on the inside…I hit it when I tripped.” He felt tears running down his cheeks. His voice got quieter. He was aware that there was another person in the room now, probably the doctor. “It hurt. It hurt so bad!It felt like I was being ripped apart and put back together again over and over and- I think I died…” He felt himself paling. “I died Mr. Manson! I-!” Sobs cut him off, heavy and body shaking. He felt himself get pulled into a hug.

Mr. Manson had his arms around Danny, holding him to his chest. Why? Mr. Manson didn’t like Danny, so why..? He leaned into the embrace, tears soaking the man’s shirt.

“And now I can’t see and hear and my arm and hand keep spasming-!”

He continued to cry for nearly an hour. When he was calm enough, he pulled away and wiped his face with his hand. Look at him. Being a civilian for so long has made him soft. He’s crying over such a trivial thing.

The doctor’s voice was soft as she spoke, telling him what was wrong. There was no way to fix what was done, not until he was an adult, at least, because he refused to tell his parents. She recommended hearing aids and glasses because his hearing and sight weren’t gone, but they may as well have been. She also explained, after he’d told them about hitting the button, that because the point of contact had been his hand, he was going to have issues with touch and muscle spasms. She said it was nerve damage and that compression cuffs would help him. The chronic pain, however, would follow him for the rest of his life. She had also noted the lichtenberg scars trailing from his hand, up his arm, down his chest and back, up his neck, and up to his eye, over his ear. They were faint enough to not be seen at first, but they were noticeable upon further inspection.

At the end of the visit, Mr. Manson paid and drove him home. Before he could get out of the car, Mr. Manson said, “Thank you for telling me. And, thank you for keeping Samantha safe.”

Danny smiled smally at him. “It’s alright, Mr. Manson. I don’t ever plan on letting her or Tucker get hurt if I can help it. Besides, I didn’t do much of anything.”

“That’s not true,” Mr. Manson shook his head. “And, please, call me Jeremy.”

“But you don’t like me, Mr. Manson,” he tilted his head slightly.

Mr. Manson laughed. “Call it an olive branch, okay?”

Danny chuckled. “Okay, Mr. Jeremy.”

The man shook his head. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll talk to Pamala; You’re welcome in our home if you ever need to leave this place, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Jeremy.” He nodded and got out of the car. “Thank you, again.”

“Anytime.”

He closed the door and watched as Mr. Jeremy drove off. Then, he checked the mailbox. Still no letter. With a sigh, he adjusted the strap of the bag he was holding - supplies the hospital had given him to help that Mr. Jeremy paid for - and went into his house.

Jack and Maddie weren’t home again, likely getting more supplies and stuff to stock the lab. After he’d opened the portal, he’d sent Sam and Tucker home; he didn’t want them there when his parents saw the activated portal. They’d celebrated when they saw it, taking him and Jazz to dinner. Then, they’d locked themselves down in the lab with the portal, studying it and making stuff to use on whatever came through. If anything ever came through. During the day, they’d spend a few hours out of the house, gathering things to study whatever they caught coming through. Honestly, Danny didn’t know when they had time to sleep or eat.

He hoped that nothing ever came through. He hoped that the portal would destabilize and shut down. He hoped a lot of things.

Sitting at the desk in his room, the door closed, Danny picked up a pencil. He was ambidextrous, though he mostly used his left hand. Until recently, that is. The handwriting was horrible compared to writing with his left, but he had to let Damian know what had happened.

***

Damian Wayne,       Sept. 8th, 2013

I don’t know if you got my last letters, nor do I know if you want to hear from me, but there’s something I have to tell you. I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore.

I was in an accident a few days ago. My foster parents have been working on a portal into another dimension since they were in college. Recently, they got the final product done and built in our basement. Sam and Tucker wanted a picture of me in it, so I went in and I tripped-

***

The pencil fell through his fingers and clattered on the desk, rolling off before falling to the floor, stopping a few inches away. Danny stared at his hand. He didn’t finish the letter.

Translation 1 - Romanian: Stoll no letter, huh? Translation 2 - Romanian: Nope Translation 3 - Romanian: Cheer up! At least you know he's alright? He and his family have been posting on their socials regularly. Translation 4 - Arabic: Cheer up, she says. If it were that easy, I'd be the happiest person in the world. Translation 5 - Romanian: What was that? Translation 6 - Romanian: Nothing! … How do you know that they're posting regularly? Do you follow the Waynes? Translation 7 - Romanian: Of course I follow the Waynes! At first it was because everyone followed them, but then you told me that Damian Wyane is your brother? I couldn’t not check in on them. Translation 8 - Romanian: I didn't- How did you find out Damian's my brother? I never told you that. Translation 9 - Romanian: Because I’m just that awesome! … It wasn’t that hard, Danny. You two look almost exactly alike.

Part 6 Part 8

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Danny stared at himself in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door, a new addition to his room. Slowly, he pulled at the energy he felt within himself. It gathered behind his sternum, flowing through the lichtenberg scar like blood in veins. He could feel it pooling, ready to burst forth, but he kept a tight lid on it. As he exhaled, he allowed the cold electricity to leave his sternum, moving up and down the outside of his body with a soft crackle of shattering ice.

When he opened his eyes again, he no longer had to breathe. His hair was whiter than the purest snow, his skin so pale that it was tinted blue, his eyes orange and red. His clothes changed into the HAZMAT he’d worn in the portal. While the now ruined suit had been black on white, the one he now saw his reflection wearing was white where it had been black and black where it had been white. His body still had every scar between forms, though the lichtenberg scar glowed the same toxic green as the portal in this form.

The first week after getting this weird transformation, he’d called out sick. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz had all been concerned, but he brushed them off with a promise to explain later. In that week, he spent all hours getting himself under control. It started with the intangibility that had made him drop his pencil and fall through his bed. Then, the invisibility that jumpscared his reflection. Last was the flight he’d discovered by falling down the stairs. They were easy enough to get a hold of.

The next week was when everything started to go wrong. Honestly, he was glad and amazed it hadn’t happened sooner.

Something came through the portal.

She called herself The Lunch Lady. She had green skin, white hair tucked into a pink bandana, a matching pink dress, and a white apron. She first appeared at Casper High, violently objecting to the ‘healthier’ change of menu.

When Danny had heard about the attack, he’d felt the transformation wash over him for the first time. On instinct alone, he’d flown the two blocks between his school and the high school, engaging her in combat when he met her. She was angry, but calmed down after he won. Before he could do anything, she left.

When he got back to his own school, the transformation dropping, his friends were waiting for him. They practically dragged him by the ear until he explained what the hell was going on. When he told them, Sam ripped into him about telling them things so that they can work through it together. Tucker practically fawned over his new powers, asking all sorts of questions.

The very next day, another ghost appeared. He called himself Skulker the Hunter. He was a large ghost, standing nearly twice as large as Danny did. He had gray skin that looked to be made out of metal. His eyes and hair were the same green as the portal, and he wore black pants and a black shirt. His gloves, boots, and shoulder armor were all dark gray. He also had a black choker around his neck with a skull charm on it.

He showed up when Danny was walking around town with Sam and Tucker. The ghost had some way of tracking Danny that put him on edge. How was he being tracked and how did he stop it?

Skulker had taken Tucker’s PDA and had been very nice about not bothering Danny when he was busy, but he’d eventually started a fight. Danny, transformed into his color-inverted form, lured the ghost away to the Amity Park Zoo. He almost lost the fight, accidentally cornering himself, when a purple-back gorilla came to his aid. He had no idea how the gorilla had gotten out of its cage, but Danny wasn’t going to ask questions.

After the fight, Skulker also disappeared. Instead of going after him like he had The Lunch Lady, Danny stayed with the gorilla. It - she he noticed - was trying to communicate with him. So, after turning back into his normal self, he walked her back to where she was being kept. On the way, he started to pick up her language. It was a modified version of American Sign Language, with the added fineness of several gorilla-only words.

The zookeepers had been hysterical when they had found her missing, though they’d been so relieved when he turned the corner with her. They first checked up on the gorilla, leading Danny to discover that she and one other gorilla were the last of the purple-back gorillas.

“Why don’t you put them together, then?” he had asked.

The zookeeper he was talking to gave him a weird look. “It costs a lot to have one of them here. We can’t afford to keep them both, so the other is in a zoo in Metropolis.”

Danny’s eyebrow raised. “First of all, I’m pretty sure that’s a kind of animal cruelty.” At least, his Mother had taught him as such. “Second, the other is male, right?”

“Yeah, they both are.”

“Except they’re not.”

“What?”

“Did you not-?” he turned to the gorilla and signed to her as he spoke aloud. “What’s your name?”

The purple-back gorilla sat down and lifted her arms. She signed D-E-L-I-L-A-H before making the ASL letter P with her right hand, pushing it from her chest like the sign for white. After dropping the sign, she made a P with both hands and hit her chest.

Again, Danny signed at her as he spoke. “You have a sign name? Cool. The second one was your species’ sign, right?” She nodded and he smiled, dropping his hands and turning back to the gobsmacked zookeeper. “I’d like to reintroduce you all to Delilah.” He made her sign name before moving to make the sign she had for her species. “She’s a female purple-back gorilla.”

There was silence for a moment before the present zoo staff erupted into noise. He answered their questions, a bit overwhelmed, but mostly amused that they’d made such a mistake. It was a good day.

It was also the day when he realized that he might want to start cataloging things. So, now he sat at his desk, a day later, staring at the new notebook he’d bought. At first, his plan was to write down every ghost he met and their abilities. He also wanted to write about himself, but he didn’t want to risk his parents getting ahold of the information. Anyone knowing what he knew was a potential disaster that he didn’t want to be responsible for. But, he really needed a way to keep track of everything.

He hit his head with the palm of his hand. “It doesn’t have to be in English, dumbass!”

With new resolve, Danny opened the notebook to the first page and titled it ‘La Dame du Déjeuner’. Under the title, he drew a picture of The Lunch Lady, coloring it in. Next to the picture, he wrote down what he knew about her. On the next page, he did the same thing, titling it ‘Le Chasseur’.

He was going to do a page for himself, but thought better of it. Instead, he found an older notebook, also empty, and titled the second page in ‘Mi-vivant, Mi-mort’. He was sure that’s what he was. Just above that, though, he wrote down ‘Le Fantôme’. Just as he had the others, he drew two pictures of himself, one as Phantom - what he was calling his ‘vigilante’ persona - and one as Danny, coloring and labeling each accordingly. Under the pictures, he wrote down a list of enhancements he’d noticed that transferred between his two forms. On the back of the page, he wrote about The Accident that turned him into what he is. On the page after that, he started a list of his powers, accompanying each power with a quick summary of how it feels when he uses it.

There was a knock on his door and he slammed the notebook closed. “Danny?” It was Jazz.

“Yeah?” He called back, shoving both notebooks in the top drawer to be moved later.

“Can I come in?”

He made sure nothing incriminating was out. “Sure!”

The door opened and Jazz stepped into the room, closing the door behind herself and leaning against the mirror. She looked him up and down, moved her appraising gaze around every inch of his room, and then locked eyes with him. “Y’know, not a lot of things surprise me. The way you’ve been acting lately is one of the things that has managed it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been acting differently for almost three weeks now. You’re doing a damn good job of acting like nothing is different, but you can’t fool me, little brother. I’ve known you for as long as you’ve been here, I’ve been studying psychology since just before then. What’s going on?”

Danny shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” She sighed when he didn’t answer after a few minutes. “Look, Danny, I- You used to tell me everything. Why are you holding back now?”

He didn’t look up from the floor. Jazz had every right to know what was going on. Tucker and Sam knew. Hell, he was even going to tell Damian! Why shouldn’t Jazz know? But, the thought of her getting hurt- it was too much for him. He didn’t want her to get hurt because of this.

Jazz sighed again, running a hand over her hair. “You know you can trust me, right?”

“Yes.” he nodded.

“Then tell me. Please.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She groaned in frustration. “Not telling me is going to do more damage than telling me. I can keep your secrets, DD, I always have.”

She was right, of course. For as long as he’d known her, Jazz had kept every piece of information to herself unless he said otherwise. She still didn’t know about what he came from or what he was born to do. She didn’t know what his father and brother and their family did at night. She didn’t even know he’d been in the lab when the portal turned on! Jazz had every right to know what was going on, but he couldn’t find the words. “I’m sorry.”

Jazz pushed off the door, turning away and opening it. “Come and find me when you’re ready to talk.” Then, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Danny slumped, hitting his forehead on his desk. He could hear Jazz go into her own room shutting the door behind herself before flopping onto her bed. He stopped listening then, manually forcing his now enhanced hearing to focus anywhere else but his sister’s room.

He found himself listening to the faint sounds from the basement lab. Unlike if they had been on the second or main floors, his parent’s voices were like whispers to him through the material of the lab and the house, though he could still make out every word.

“-apart molecule by molecule!” his dad was saying.

“Calm down, honey,” mom stated kindly. He could practically see her putting a hand on Jack’s arm. “We’ll catch the ghost boy eventually.”

Ghost boy..? Were they talking about him?

Jack sighed. “I know, but it’s the only one we’ve seen!” There was a noise of something falling. “Did you get the cameras in place?”

“Yep!” Maddie had a smile in her voice, “We now have round the clock recording on the portal. Now, we’ll know exactly what comes through and when.”

“Perfect!” Dad cheered, “I’ve just finished the Fenton Thermos. As soon as we see any ghosts, we can suck them right up and bring them back to be studied.”

Shit. That wasn’t good. His parents having a way to capture him and other ghosts was not a good thing. Though, if he could get his hands on one of those, it’d be useful for making sure his opponents didn’t get away to start trouble after every fight.

He still didn’t know where La Dame Du Déjeuner or Le Chasseur had gone off to, though he had the feeling they had gone back through the portal. He couldn’t be sure, though.

Danny forced his hearing away from the lab. He really didn’t want to listen to his parents talk about how they were going to ‘study’ ghosts. Especially since a lot of what they were saying was against the Geneva Convention.

Instead, he focused on the picture he had started working on. He’d been trying to get his left hand back to what it was handwriting wise, but it was proving to be a lot more difficult than he originally anticipated. The nerves in his hand and arm were fried, so he had little to no feeling, and what feeling he did have was only in extreme circumstances like extreme hot or cold. Moving them felt like learning how to walk, but somehow worse. His brain was sending signals to the muscles to move, and they did, and he could see them moving, but it did nothing because he couldn’t feel what he was touching.

Enhanced strength was one of the powers that decided to bleed over into his living form. This wasn’t a problem until he had to use his left arm or hand. Because he couldn’t feel anything, he didn’t know how strong he was gripping things until it either shattered/bent in his hand or they slipped through his fingers. It was hard to get control of and people were starting to notice.

Going to physical therapy would be a good thing, but he didn’t have the money for that. He could ask his parents, but he didn’t want them to know anything about this. Asking Mr. Jeremy was out of the question, so was asking Jazz or Mr. and Mrs. Foley. So, he was doing things on his own.

The lack of progress was infuriating, though. He was used to fast results in everything! Even the things that he was bad at, he improved very quickly. Grandfather and Mother had praised him for learning so fast. The rate at which he was going was disappointing to even himself.

He wanted to wield his knives again and work his way back into wielding his katana, but he couldn’t even write his name, let alone safely hold a blade! He mourned at the thought of the possibility of never being able to use his blades because he’d gotten so hurt.

His sight was the second thing he was most frustrated about. He hated not being able to see clearly. Sure, his right eye still held perfect vision, but now he had a huge blindspot - don’t laugh - on his left side that he had to overcompensate for.

His balance was the third thing that was off. It’d been quicker progress to learn to rebalance himself, but he kept stumbling over his own feet. The flight that bleed over from his dead form was his only saving grace. The combat style he’d been taught relied on mobility, balance, speed, and stealth. Right now, he was down on all of those.

The enhancements that bleed between his living and dead forms had been all that was saving him from breaking down completely. The enhanced hearing helped out with his balance, but it was still mostly focused on his right side. Everything through his left ear sounded like it was underwater and twelve layers of wood.

The enhanced sight was met with much the same results, though everything he saw with his left eye was about half less blurry. He was looking into glasses for his living form, but he didn’t yet know how he’d excuse them.

Again, though, the enhanced strength was more of a problem than not.

Danny slammed his head against the table before standing up and leaving his room. He wasn’t going to tell Jazz everything, but he needed help. He was struggling and, admittedly, exactly one more failure from a mental breakdown.

He knocked on her door a bit louder than he meant to and waited for her to allow him in. When she did, he made sure he was extra careful with his new strength as he opened the door and closed it behind himself. There was no sound after the soft click of the door closing.

“Well?” she prompted.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t want to tell you because you’d get hurt or you would’ve blamed yourself and I really didn’t want-”

“Whoa, slow down, Danny!” she sat up, “Take a deep breath and try again.”

He did as she said, sitting on the floor in front of her. “I was in the lab when the portal turned on.” She didn’t react, so he continued. “Sam and Tucker wanted to see it, and Sam wanted a picture, so, against my better judgment, I took them down to see it. Sam wanted me in the portal for the picture, so I went in, but I tripped and I-I hit the, um, the button on the inside and it turned on.” He fell quiet.

Jazz moved slowly to join him on the floor. She sat next to him and pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Danny, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s, uh, it’s okay. It was my fault anyway. And don’t say it wasn’t! Mr. Jeremy gave me the whole spiel at the hospital and I really don’t wanna hear it again.”

“The hospital?!” she shrieked.

He cringed. “Yeah, um, a lot of electricity decided to use me as a shortcut. It hurt, like, a lot. The doctor said that the hearing and sight loss in my left ear and eye are permanent. She also said that I’d have chronic pain in my left hand and arm for the rest of my life, as well as nerve damage. It’s unlikely I’ll ever regain the feeling.”

Jazz had been quiet through his whole report, dragging it out for a few minutes after as she filed the information away in her head. He could practically hear the cogs turning. She inhaled deeply. “How did you pay for the hospital visit?”

“Mr. Jeremy- Sam’s dad. She told them I was hurt and that I couldn’t pay, so her dad took me to the hospital. He even got me the stuff that the doctor recommended. Minus pain meds, but that’s because he’s not my guardian.”

She nodded. “I’ll have to thank him later. What do you want me to do?”

She was good about that, making sure he wanted her to do something instead of just assuming. It was nice. “I need help with the physio. I can’t feel how much strength I’m using, so I keep breaking or dropping things. Also, my balance is shot, so hearing aids and glasses should be a bit of a priority.”

“Got it,” she said, “I don’t know how much of that I can do right now, but I can promise glasses as a start. Is that okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s good. Thank you.”

“No problem, brat. Though, next time, don’t try to hide something this serious from me, okay? I can and want to help you, but I can only do so much if you don’t tell me. Understand?”

“Understood, General.”

“Shut up, loser.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

*

Three weeks of crazy adventures later found Danny home alone when the doorbell rings. Jazz was at the library and his parents had gone ghost hunting, though there were no ghosts out to hunt. He’d already found all of the ones who’d been wreaking havoc, and the peaceful ones - mostly animals and blobs - all knew to hide from the brightly colored HAZMAT suits.

Danny went to answer the door, the compression sleeve on his left arm and a brand new pair of glasses on his face. When he opened the door, he was greeted by three men in white suits and black sunglasses, a fourth was waiting by the white van that had been parked in the driveway. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“This the Fenton place?” the guy in the front - Agent T4, his nametag read - asked. His voice alone sounded privileged and Danny instantly hated him.

He leaned out of the door a bit, obviously looking up at the massive sign that said FENTONWORKS in big letters. “Yeah,” He put his foot in the way of the door so that it couldn’t open more than he allowed it to.

Agent T4 nodded. “We need to talk to the Doctors. Are they here?”

Danny made a small show of looking at the driveway. They didn’t have a garage, so there was nowhere else for a car to be parked. “No.”

“When will they be back?” The man was obviously getting irritated with him. It was fun. Why did they have such a short tempered guy doing the talking?

“I dunno.” he shrugged. “Sometime before tomorrow, probably.”

“Don’t get smart with me, kid.” the man in white growled.

Danny wasn’t phased. “I don’t know when they’ll be home. Could be a few minutes, could be a few hours. Can I take a message?”

The man snarled. “No, you can not! When will the Doctors be home?”

Now Danny was getting irritated, though he hid it way better than these guys did. “They’re not home.” he over enunciated each word with an exaggerated mouth movement, “Come back later, or leave a message with me.” He crossed his arms. “Can your toddler brain understand that, or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

“Why you-”

Danny leaned back, “Assaulting a minor? I could call the cops on you and have you taken in for aggravated assault.” He reached for the phone in his pocket. “Actually, I might just call them anyway and you all can be arrested for trespassing.”

“Okay, okay,” Agent T2 held up his hands in surrender, T3 grabbing T4 by the back of his shirt. “We get the picture; we’ll leave now.”

Danny raised his eyebrow. Did they? Did they really understand what was happening?

“Sorry to bother you.” T2 pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Danny. “Will you have your parents give us a call when they get home?”

He took the card. “I’ll tell them, but I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I ask.”

He didn’t bid the men goodbye before closing the door in their faces. He did, though, watch from the window to make sure they’d leave. When they’d turned the corner, he reopened the door and stepped out. He’d needed to get up and get the mail anyway.

He hadn’t gotten his hopes up, checking for a letter from Damian mostly out of habit, so when the third letter in the pile had his name on it, he allowed himself to grin. Damian had written back!

He wasted no time in dropping the rest of the mail on the kitchen table and rushing to his room. The second he sat in his chair, he ripped the envelope open. The paper inside made him frown and drop the paper. It was the bill for the P.O. box.

With a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto his bed, face first. Damn it.

Translation 1 - French: The Lunch Lady

Translation 2 - French: The Hunter

Translation 3 - French: Half Living, Half Dead … The Phantom

Part 7 Part 9

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Danyal Fenton, Jan. 8th, 2014

I sincerely apologize for the lack of contact. Much has happened; too much to put into a single letter, though I’m sure you saw some of it on the news. It has been two years since your last letter. I wanted to respond earlier, but I was too much of a coward. I spent hours staring at your letters, but I couldn’t bring myself to open them, let alone respond. That is no excuse, however, and I apologize.

As I’ve already mentioned I’m sure you know, Father went missing shortly after my last letter to you. The public was told that he was kidnapped and that we would pay ransom. He returned about a year ago, as I’m also certain you heard, and we assured the public that the Private Investigators we hired had found and retrieved him and that the captors had been imprisoned. That is our cover story. I would like to tell you the truth of the matter in person, but it cannot wait for that day to come.

Father was lost in time. He has still not told us how or what happened when he was gone, other than that he lost his memory. Everytime he regained it, he would leave a clue for us before he forgot again and was taken to another time. He said he had help, but he didn’t say from whom.

Timothy was the one to follow the clues and rescue him, though I’m not sure how. Everyone thought Father was dead, but we refrained from announcing it until Timothy returned from his search.

No one knows that Batman was missing. Richard took up the cowl and I was given the title of Robin. (The colors are garish, but the others wore them, so I must as well.) Richard was quite good at stepping into Father’s place, well enough to fool Superman and the rest of the Justice League, but it was hard on him. The stress was too much for him at the time, though he is now back as Nightwing in Bludhaven.

As morbid as the thought may be, the entire year was good for distancing our civilian and vigilante lives. No one thinks Father is Batman because Batman was active while Father was missing. Nightwing was undercover while Richard was in Gotham, returning before Richard left to go back to his city. Timothy was sighted in Pakistan with no appearance from Red Robin until after Timothy had “left”.

On the topic of Timothy, he is on Grandfather’s radar. He confided that, in the process of looking for Father, he enlisted the help of the Council of Spiders. Grandfather trained him, offering up the position of Demons Heir to him. In his escape, Timothy blew up eight bases around the world, though I don’t know how he managed.

On the topic; I have renounced my position of Demons Heir. Father and our siblings have taught me many things since I first arrived, things which made me rethink what we grew up knowing. I’m sure you went through the same thing. Mother has tried fruitlessly to take me back with her, but I have gone back to Father every time. I wanted to go back to you, but I am not willing to put you at risk like that. However, the Shadows have separated into factions, one side with Grandfather and the other with Mother. Nanda Parbat now stands as Grandfather’s primary base of operations.

The WAR - We Are Robin - Movement that swept over Gotham in Father’s absence was headed by our new foster brother Duke Thomas. He now goes by the name Signal. I was the one to recruit him and give him the bat he now wears.

Having gone back to re-read your letters, and read for the first time your last three letters, I have noticed that you refer to Father’s chosen as my siblings alone. Do you not want them to be your siblings as well? I do not blame or criticize; I am simply curious and would like some clarity. والآن حان دوري لأطلب عفوك. لن أدع الاتصالات البعيدة المدى تفلت من يدي مرة أخرى.

          Damian Wayne

***

After two years of radio silence, Danny finally got a letter from his brother. He was glad, don’t get him wrong! But he found himself not nearly as excited as he would’ve been last year. After two years of constantly waiting and checking and not being able to do anything, Danny was so burnt out that when the letter finally did come, he didn’t immediately rush to open and read it. He did, of course, open and read it, but he also waited to write up a response. Like Damian, he now had a lot on his plate, except he actually barely had any time to himself anymore.

Between ghost fights, playing keep-away with his parents and the GIW, teaching his friends how to handle themselves in a fight, saving the world, and trying desperately to get through the media block to reach the Justice League, Danny was pulled so thin that he was surprised he hadn’t ripped apart from the stress of it all! That’s not to even mention his own training in the Infinite Realms!

Yes, he had his team, but they could only do so much. And it didn’t help that Vlad the Frootloop who is secretly a vampire keeps getting in his way and causing shit! He did get a dog now, though! Cujo is the best dog.

That’s all to say that he’s beyond tired.

“Whoever came up with the saying “Sleep when you’re dead” is a fucking liar!” he exclaimed, flopping face-first onto Sam’s bed.

She snorted. “Don’t be dramatic, Danny.”

“No, no, he’s got a point,” Tucker said, “Danny’s been getting less sleep since he died!”

Danny groaned again. Sam rolled him over so that he could breathe as he detransformed. “Any luck with getting through the Media Block?”

It was Tucker’s turn to groan. He leaned back so far that he fell onto the floor, but he didn’t care. “No! I don’t know how they’re doing it, but outside news can come in, but nothing’s able to go out.”

That particular issue has gotten a lot of people up in arms. Just after the Ghost Portal was opened, the US Government sent a privately funded branch - the Ghost Investigation Ward, GIW for short and Guys In White for shits and giggles - to contain it. Instead of containing or shutting down the portal, they decided to put the entire down on a soft lock-in, meaning that anything can come in but almost nothing can go out.

The G.I.W. is a branch of the Bureau of Normalcy. Bureau of Normalcy is an organization dedicated to the weaponization or eradication of entities they deem to be odd. Basically government funded war crimes. So no different than what the government normally does, just with a different name. The G.I.W. are the offshoot that specializes in dealing with ghosts.

Getting rid of the G.I.W. is basically number two on the priority list. Once they’re gone, the Media Block will go with them, so will most of the property damage and about a third of Danny’s stress. Sabotaging his parents’ tech so that it’s safer for all parties comes in at a very close second, with making sure the living and dead don’t destroy each other.

“On a slightly different topic,” Sam said, “How have the protections on the Portal been coming along?”

Another project Danny’s been working on in what little spare time he has. Since getting his powers, he’s joined Sam in reading up on different kinds of magic, going so far as to start looking into the greater occult community. That’s when he came up with the idea of putting protection runes around and on the Ghost Portal. Unfortunately, the runes have to be both a specific type and insanely supercharged in order to work on or near the portal. He hasn’t managed to find the  right runes and nothing has been helpful. Another reason to reach out to the Justice League, actually.

Originally, he’d wanted to ask the Justice League for advice and maybe for help from any actual magic users they know. He was perfectly fine, brushing off what he’d been born learning and using those skills, but he was born to kill, not save, so advice from actual heroes would’ve been nice. Unfortunately, the G.I.W. says that he can’t have nice things, so he doesn’t.

Leaving the town was an option that everyone had, but no one was willing to uproot their entire lives because the government got a little bit pissy and don’t know how to listen to their people.

“Not good,” he told her, “The runes keep blowing up in my face.”

“Have you asked any of the ghosts?” Tucker hadn’t bothered to get off of the floor, but he was still working at getting through the Media Block.

Danny shook his head. “None of them are helpful. They won’t listen to me unless we’re fighting and, I don’t know if you know this, but asking about magic runes isn’t really the thing I’m thinking about while trying to save people.”

Sam rubbed her forehead, her eyes closed. “Alright, I’ll look through my grandma’s books again to see if we can find something.” She sighed. “This would be so much easier if we could actually contact someone.”

“I’m working on it!” Tucker snapped, “These guys have something that keeps changing the code on me and it’s near impossible to work through! The second I put even a crack in their firewalls, it fills itself up! How the hell am I supposed to get around a living firewall?”

“Sorry, Tuck,” Sam said, “I know you’ve been working your ass off on that.”

He laughed humorlessly, “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

The three delved into silence, working on their own projects. Tucker was doing his best against the Media Block, Sam was looking everywhere for protection runes strong enough to work on the Portal, and Danny was adding entries to his Catalogue Des Fantômes.

He was on page nineteen of the notebook, the last entry having been Youngblood. There was only one entry that wasn’t actually a ghost, though, but Danny always skilled over that page when he could. Freakshow, theRingmaster of Circus Gothica scared the ever loving shit out of Danny. He hated not being in control of himself. He hated the memory lapses when he was under someone else's influence. He hated that he hurt his friends.

The page he was working on was for the blob ghosts. They were low-threats and adorable. They also made wonderful informants, being able to fly far and fast and listen and relay without being caught. The only problem was that he was pretty sure only other ghosts could see and understand the little blobs.

“It’s been really quiet recently, don’t you think?” Tucker said after about an hour of quietly doing their own thing.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“It’s just been…quiet,” he explained, “Not a lot has been happening. Like, at first, there were attacks every day, but it’s Sunday and Youngblood was the only ghost to attack.”

Danny sat up, coming to the same realization as Tucker. “Oh, no,” he said, catching the other twos’ attention.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You spoke it into existence.”

“Huh?”

“You said it’s been quiet; Now something’s gonna-!” He was cut off by a rumble that shook the mansion. Swearing, Danny transformed into Phantom and flew out of the window. He didn’t get very far before noticing what was wrong. Sam and Tucker both joined him at the window.

“Holy shit.” Sam muttered.

Tucker nodded. “What the hell?”

The sky, previously a clear blue, was now swirls of toxic green and black. Everything was dimmer, despite the amount of lights in the town. The clouds were all gone, replaced with nothing that was so glaringly obvious that the trio found themselves feeling agoraphobic. The biggest change, though, was that they were now on an island. Where there had been fields stretching on forever just a few minutes ago, there was now a drop into a fading green to black void. Also, everything was tinted purple.

Phantom was quick to regain himself. He flew back to his house because this wasn’t right. Why was Amity Park in the Infinite Realms? How was Amity Park in the Infinite Realms? Both questions he needed answers to yesterday.

As he passed, he saw people freaking out, running around like chickens with their heads cut off to find someone who might have an answer.

Red Huntress was out and about, so he flew to her as fast as he could. “Get everyone to calm down!” he shouted over the noise of everyone screaming below them.

She glared at him. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

Now, he and Red have never quite gotten along. Sure, they’ve worked together, but him knowing her and her not knowing him was really the only thing stopping them from getting along perfectly. At least she’d stopped trying to turn him into the G.I.W.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “But I’m gonna find out. As soon as I do, I’ll tell you!” She nodded and was off to work damage control.

It took another few minutes before Phantom was at his house. Using both invisibility and intangibility, he flew down into the lab, vacant of any occupants, and went straight to the Portal. The Portal that was now an empty shell of bad memories. There was no power running through it.

“What..?” He turned on a dime, Plasmius now directly behind him. “What did you do?”

The older ghost clicked his tongue and shook his head. “What makes you think I did this? You have such a low opinion of me?”

“Yes.”

“Shame.”

“Am I wrong?” The silence spoke for itself. “What the hell did you do, Vlad.”

“Now, now, Daniel, no need to be so hostile.”

“Really? ‘Cause we’re no longer on Earth, dipshit.”

“Language, Daniel.”

“My name is ‘Danyal’, asshole.”

“That’s what I said,” he smirked, “Daniel.”

He stopped himself from starting a physical altercation and took a deep breath. “Just tell me what happened so that I can go clean up after you again.”

“I did not cause-”

“Just shut the fuck up and tell me what happened!”

“Well, that’s quite the contradiction or requests-”

Danny threw his hands in the air and left Plasmius in the lab. He didn’t have time for Vlad’s pathetic attempt at mind games! He had shit to figure out and people to help calm down.

“Walking away in the middle of a conversation?” Plasmius caught up easily, “How rude. Where did you learn your manners?”

“Maybe if you’d actually be helpful for once in your goddamn existence, then I’d be more inclined to stay and chat for a moment. As it stands, though, you’re doing a shit job of being mayor. Your people are freaking the fuck out and you’re here antagonizing me. Now, if you really wanna have a conversation, you can tell me what you did.”

Plasmius was quiet for a moment. Then, he admitted, “The King.”

Phantom blinked. “That what?”

“The King.”

“You don’t mean the King-King, right? The one that all the blob ghosts weaned me about? The one I’m sure you were also warned about? That King?” He asked, “Because I can hear the capitalization in your voice, Plasmius, and if you woke up the one guy that could actually destroy the world, then I’m gonna beat your ass and feed your head to a duck.”

The older man had the audacity to look sheepish. “I took his ring. He didn’t like that, so he woke up.”

Phantom groaned, dragging his hands down his face. Taking an unnecessary and deep breath, he said, “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go down there and explain exactly what the hell you did. I don’t care if you blame yourself as Vlad or if you blame yourself as Plausmius, but they need to know. You also need to do your damn job and calm them the fuck down. I am going to figure out how to fix this because you will only get in my way.” He flew away.

Gods, Danny doesn’t get paid nearly enough for this.

*

For the first time since he’d died, Danny was scared for his life. He was all alone, stepping up to fight the King of Ghosts; A powerful deity who rules over the Realms of the dead and the living and everything in-between. He’s got the power to pull an entire city into the Realm Between. He could probably destroy the Living Realms if he so chose to!

And Danny was challenging him to a fight. With no back up. And no hope for medical because he didn’t tell anyone he was going to be fighting the King. If he makes it out of this no more dead than he already was, he’s going to sleep for a week. Everyone else can just stop bothering him.

He stepped up to the steps of Pariah’s Keep. The building was huge, red, glowing, and beyond imposing. It looked like every horrible aspect of every castle was shoved into one and painted to look like it was coated in the blood of the Living.

He’s never been nervous for a fight before.

Danny steeled himself, shoving his fear into the deepest recesses of his mind, and started up the stairs. He could feel eyes on him, but he didn’t know where they were from. He ignored them, letting his transformation wash over him as he walked. All the ghosts knew who he was anyway, so he didn’t feel the need to hide his transformation from them.

He stepped into the great hall, a black and red throne standing proudly on a raised dais at the end of the room. The reflective obsidian floor looked like a void of nothing, the light from the torches on the walls seemed to be absorbed into the void.

Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts, stood tall at the bottom of the dais. His skin was white, his hair and eyes toxic green, his armor black and gray, his cape black and red. The belt and sash he wore both had skulls on them, and he had a longsword on his hip that had a matching skill pommel.

“You are foolish to come here alone.” The King looked down his nose at him. His voice boomed through the room, but he didn’t raise it.

Phantom had adjusted his own outfit, making it look more like what the older assassins wore in Nanda Parbat. He had several knives hidden around his person, his katana on his left hip, a rapier on his right hip, and a tanto on his back.

“I am more concerned for the safety of my home than the  safety of myself. Bringing anyone with me would’ve put them at risk.”

The King sneered. “You are foolish, child. Connections such as those will only drag you down. Cut them, and you will only grow stronger.”

“Y’know, my Grandfather used to tell me something similar when I was a child.”

“Your Grandfather was a wise man.”

“High praise coming from you, you’re majesty. You wouldn’t happen to know who he is, do you?”

“You smell of the Pits; Lifeblood of the Between Realm that has found its way into the Living Realms. You do not have the anger to have been submerged, but you have been around them.” The King stated, “Tell me, where were you born, K̴͔̑͘u̸̙͌̋͠m̴̬̯̤̄͗̊̚m̷̹̜̟̣̈ḯ̴͚͕̙̗̥̀t̸͚̠̭̣͎̒̄u̷̺̹̫̅͑ṡ̷̞͆l̶̝̈́̌̅a̶̹̪̎̇̈̈̓p̸͎̬͖̺͊̾̽͜š̶̞̤̞͐͗͝?”

Despite knowing that that was not a language he had learned, he knew what was said. “L̵̤̞͎̓ử̷͈͉̫̆͊͠m̵̡͓̣͂͋e̵̩̹̼̠̬͆͑ ̴͈̦͒͒ő̸͓̀̂͘r̵̞̰̠̟̓̓ǧ̵̛͈̜̪͋,” he answered, “V̴̯͓̀a̸̼̩̐̉r̷̪͂j̸̛͕̼̈́͌u̶͔̐͌d̴͓͍̀̍͝e̵̤̐ ̵͉̖̅̃ͅǫ̸̹̩̅͌r̸̢̙̕͜ġ̷̦͝, The living call it Nanda Parbat.”

“A̶̧̞̯̓ḷ̶̡͕̰̫̏a̴̛̤̲͔̅̄́͝s̸̝̔͑t̴̫̏̉͋i̶̢̼͈̪̎̂́̕ ̷̼͉̐͌͊̑̾m̶̯̹͔̺͂̀͜ḁ̷͍̟͇̞̈̀̒͆͝͠g̵͈͚̹̽ĭ̶̪̰̿̒,” King Pariah repeated, “I am familiar with that place. You say you were born there?”

“Correct.”

“Do you fight to protect, or do you fight to rule?”

“I fight to protect.”

“Alright, T̶̨͇͋͌͆͌́ä̸͇̰͓̿h̷̥̓͌͋̈̔̓t̴̗̻͚͈͚̺̓́̔e̴̢̯̱̓̄̎̾̆ḑ̷̬̔ḛ̷̱̭̙̪͑̃͌̓͐ ̵̭̯͔̈̈̇̓̕̕l̶̜̞̺̜̦̋̿̄͒͊a̶̢̼͈͆p̶͓̟̱̣̉š̶̹͋̄̕͝,” he drew his sword, Danny did the same. “I will display your banner amongst your kin.” The fight began.

Phantom and Pariah crossed blades in the middle of the room. The King had both hands on the hilt of his, pushing his weight into where the metal clashed. Phantom was wielding his katana, his left hand open and prepared to either go for a dagger or join his right hand on the katana. After a few moments of struggle, the two pushed away, evenly matched for strength.

Again, Pariah made the first move, lunging at Phantom with a burst of flight to speed him up. They crossed blades, but didn’t hold as the large ghost spun around to strike at Phantom from behind. Phantom met his blade with the dagger that fell from his sleeve into his hand. The nerve damage transferred between forms, making the grip on the dagger slip. He slid Pariah’s blade away to cover the fault, though he was nicked in the arm. He didn’t feel it.

As he slid the sword, Phantom’s katana reached to hit Pariah. The blade grazed off the armor, ringing with the force. Phantom was forced to dodge away to save the blade. He was quick to stash it, bushing the dagger back up his sleeve and pulling the rapier from its place on his hip.

Pariah feinted around Phantom’s jab, getting close stabbing at his thigh. He managed a graze before having to pull back in a dodge. Phantom’s rapier caught Pariah's cape, tearing through it and pulling it off of his shoulders. Growling, he pulled the rest of the fabric off, discarding it quickly.

The two stood apart from each other. The floor remained spotless and the torches undisturbed. The two halves of the cape laid at the feet of the two.

“You duel well,” The King commended.

Phantom nodded in thanks. “I do not have nearly your experience, however I was born with a weapon in my hand.”

Again, they met blades in the middle, green sparks flying off at the initial contact. Phantom was quick to slip another dagger into his hand, pushing his enemy’s blade up so he could get in close. As soon as he did, he shoved the dagger into the gap between the ghost’s chest plate and twisted.

Pariah cried out and threw Phandom away from him, the younger ghost hitting the wall before landing on the floor in a crouch. He pulled the dagger from his gut, the thing only inhibiting his movement. Like Phantom, he did not heal.

Switching his weapon again, Phantom lunged forward first with matching daggers in his hands. Pariah kept both blades away with his own, nimbly moving away when he could afford to and kicking when he could not. Finally, he knocked both dagger’s from Phantom’s hands and stabbed through the ghost child’s left hand.

The phantom pain from nerves that no longer worked caused Phantom to scream. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the blade with his other hand, cutting it, and wrapped his legs around Pariah’s arm. The older ghost grunted, lifting his sword and Phantom together. He raised him above his head before slamming him back down into the floor. Again, Phantom screamed, but he began to pull the longsword from The King’s hand.

Raising his arm and slamming Phantom back into the ground over and over again, Pariah didn’t notice his grip on his blade was loosening until Phantom had pulled it from him entirely. In a show of strength, the sword was thrown to the other side of the throne room. It stabbed into the wall, the edge chipping and rolling in several different places.

“You brat!” The King roared. Phantom let go of his arm, flipping away and landing in a crouch near the wall. Pariah gave chase, throwing punches when he got close. Soon, the battle was taken to the air, both parties flying.

Pariah Dark fought like a brawler, all heavy hits and weighted punches. He liked to stay firmly in place when he hit, being too big to outrun his opponent.

Phantom, on the other hand, fought like a snake, relying on speed and flexibility. He used the daggers hidden on his person to wear his opponent down. He was always on the move, depending heavily on outlasting whoever he was fighting.

The King grabbed the ghost child by his neck, squeezing hard enough that Phantom heard a creak, pain radiating from where his bones would be. “You have lost.”

Phantom smirked, “Not quite,” he said. He kicked up, knocking Pariah in the chin, and punched his elbow, flying out of range when the grip on his neck loosened. He gasped for air on habit, green blood leaking from his mouth.

Pariah stood at his full height. “Why do you fight, Ț̷̿̇̾͘a̴̘̪̘̥͖͈͆s̵͙̎̃̍̋͊͜á̴̟̲̰̲̃̓̎͘͠k̵̡̰̖̝̳̑̄a̸̹̹̮͊͆͛̆̈́̕a̶̙̝̭͔̘̪̿̓̃̍̊̾͜͝l̸̨̞͎̫̮̅u̸͓̒́́͆͋̇͠ ̶̛̺̰̦͔̞͖̯͇͑͆̔͝l̶̨̛̖̝̫̭̱̿̃̊̿̉͘̕å̴̢̯͍p̶̡̢̬̩̣̃̏̓̾͋̈̔s̷̱͎̄̅ͅ?”

“To protect,” Phantom glared, “T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒.”

The King laughed, the sound wet as green blood fell from his mouth and cuts, his chestplate being stained by the stuff. “You will End if you keep that foolish mindset.”

Phantom smirked. “Maybe,”

Pariah’s eyes closed, his entire being losing its glow. Slowly, he disappeared, leaving behind a small ball of fire. Over the orb was his crown, the green fire fading from the black metal. A small black ring joined them on the floor.

He waited for several minutes, staring at the small orb, the ring, and the crown. Then, he fell to his knees with a smile. “I…I did it.” His smile grew to a grin. “I did it!”

Translation 1 - French: Ghost Catalog

Translation 2 - Estonian & Zalgo: Ghost Child

Translation 3 - Estonian & Zalgo: Valley of Snow … Valley of Shadows

Translation 4 - Estonian & Zalgo: Naked Mountain

Translation 6 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Stars

Translation 7 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of Balance

Translation 8 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King

Part 8 Part 10

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne,   Jan 15, 2014

Thank the gods you’re okay! I was so worried! When you didn’t answer, I assumed the worst, and then I saw the news and I freaked out! Seeing as you didn’t mention anything about accepting my help, I’m going to assume you don’t need it right now. The offer will remain open, however.

A lot has happened since my last letter, though you’ll forgive me for not going into detail. It’s gonna be a pain to get this to you at all, let alone if it had been filled with everything I want to say. What I can and will tell you is that my town has been put under a soft lock-in and a Media Blackout. Things and people and news can come in, but almost nothing and no one can go out. Everything is screened before it’s even considered for being able to leave the city lines. Something is here that the government doesn't want to get out to the general public. It took a lot to be able to even get this out, hence the huge amount of time between me writing it and you getting it.

I’ll keep the line open, but it might take a while for my responses to get to you.

Ancients, I hope you can come visit soon. If you need an excuse, we’ve got the only female purple-back gorilla in town! Her name’s Delilah. I can teach you how to communicate with her if you’d like!

Anyway, I gotta go.

من الجيد أن أسمع منك يا أخي.

Danyal

***

Danny was tired. He was ready to sleep for a week. He doesn’t care that he’s not gonna be allowed to because he’s gonna do it anyway. After beating Pariah Dark, Danny had laid on the floor for a solid hour before moving. When he finally got up, he moved the crown and ring to sit on the cushion of the throne. The orb he kept with him. He was gentle with it, careful to not hole it too tightly or too lightly. Then, he flew back to where Amity Park was floating.

“Where were you!” Sam demanded the second he landed in her room.

“Finding a way out of the Zone,” he said.

“And?” Tucker prompted, “Do we have a way home?”

Danny paused and then groaned. “Noooo.”

Sam inhaled deeply, frustration dripping from her voice like honey. “Then what took you so long to come back?”

Tucker finally looked up from his PDA and then startled. “Dude! You’re hurt! What the hell?”

“What?!” Sam screamed.

Danny looked down at himself. “Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

“Dude!”

“Okay, okay! So, you know that really scary Ghost King guy that Vlad decided to wake up because he’s a piss-baby who wants power?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” he looked away from them and then held up his right hand, showing them the fire orb in his hand. “This is maybe kinda all that’s left of him.”

“Danny!” They both jumped away from him. “Did you bring the fucking Ghost King into my house?!”

“I wasn’t just- I couldn’t- Leaving it where it was seemed like a bad idea!”

“So you brought it with you!”

“Yes! It seemed like a better idea than leaving him where anyone could pick him up!”

Tucker calmed himself in the corner, taking large breaths. Sam closed her eyes where she stood, doing the same thing. After a few seconds she said, “Get that thing out of my house. Then, find out a way to get us back home-”

“Technically we are home…”

“-to Earth. When you’ve done that and the sky is blue and I can see fields on the horizon, then you may come back into my house. Okay?”

He backed towards the window. “I guess this is a horrible time to mention that I don’t know a single ghost that can help me?”

“Out!”

“Okay, bye!” He was quick to leave, flying away as Phantom, the fire orb still in his hand, though now he cradled it to his chest. He was stopped a few times by his classmates, trusting Phantom more than the ghost hunters. Anytime they’d ask him what was happening, he’d tell them that he had everything under control and that he was going to get them all back to their home dimension soon.

He didn’t tell them that he was freaking out. He didn’t tell them that they’d been there for six days now because he and Vlad are the only two in Amity Park who can keep track of time in the Realms. He didn’t tell them that he was working alone because the government decided to cut off all access to help. He didn’t tell them that no one even knew they were missing because of the same government. He didn’t tell them a lot of things. 

He’d learned, from watching other heroes in the world, that smiles and reassurances were the only things to keep people calm sometimes. So, that’s what he did. He kept the freakouts internal, and smiled at his classmates as they asked him to tell them it would be okay.

He flew over the edge of the island that was now taking the space of the Amity Portal. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was hoping that he’d be able to find someone that would help him as long as he picked a direction and flew.

It took an entire day, but he found someone who could help. Probably. The island was purple, just like all of them, and the only building on it was a dark clocktower. It looked like a grandfather clock, a balcony wrapped around the building just under the clock face. There were cogs floating in the space above and around it, as well as implemented into the building itself.

He dropped his flight, landing on the ground a ways from the door. “Ḵ̴͓̈́͌̔ạ̶̍s̵̥̤͠ ̴̤̽̓͛m̵̹̠̈́̂̍å̸̢͎̜̎ ̸̫́v̶͖͙̍̀̚õ̸̠͔̀i̴̍̕͜n̸͉̪͊̾̓ ̷̝̻͊̚̚t̷̬̩͝͝ú̷͔̟͖l̵̗̖͗͛̎l̸̻̫̂̀̕á̸̜͔̥?” he asked. The door under the glass pendulum window opened. He took that as an invitation and walked forward.

Inside the body of the clocktower was plain, a stone staircase winding up behind the ticking pendulum. He walked up every step, the fiery orb cradled in both hands against his chest. It was really warm.

There was no trap door or hatch at the top of the stairs. Instead, it opened up into the room behind the clock face. The wall opposite the clock face was covered in screens with orbs floating around, each one showing different faces and events and times. There was a small seating area right next to the giant window; that’s where he found his host.

“T̴̡̫́͊͝͠ē̸̞̱͑͊̃͝r̷̩͛͒͠e̶͉̠̪̎̔͂́̅ ̴͚̤͓̬̲͊͒̔̽t̵̢͉̗̺̲̑̌̅̚u̸̬̔͌͆ḻ̷̛̫͍̜́e̵̖̰͕̰̪͝m̷̳͎̘̮̞͝͠a̶͖̬͉̤͉̒̀̋s̸͖̱͓̪̪̈́́t̷̖̿̓͊,̸̢͙̮͊̾ ̷̡̲̱͖̲͑͆̔̕ń̴̠̪̈́̊̒̃ó̸̡̺̞͕͍́̽̀͆ō̵̦̅̔r̶̠̉͆̕ ̵̞̟̣̇̈̆ḱ̴̢͕͔͈̇͛͂͋u̵̫̲̎̀̀̽ͅǹ̵̢͖͚̜ͅį̴̠͖̠̪͗̒̓̅ǹ̸̝͒͊͠g̸͎̖̗͎̈́̃ả̸̮͉̱̀́̌̉s̷̡̞̼̃̿̏͂͊.” the ghost said. They were covered by a dark purple hooded cloak, a lighter purple tunic and pants underneath. Their skin was a light teal and their eyes were bright red. A black metal cog held the cloak on their shoulder, a glass door showed black clock and a pendulum in their chest. Floating upright beside them was a black metal staff, a mint green eye-like orb resting between the three prongs on the top. “My name is A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓, but you may call me Clockwork.”

Danny bowed a little in greeting, the ghost’s very gaze pouring an intense pressure on him. “Greetings, Clockwork. My name is D̷̨̨̤̥̤́̈́͘è̷̲̟͗͒̾ë̶̩̥̪́́͠m̷͎̿̀̎ͅö̸͍̤̫̥͕́͂̓n̷̤̰̆͑͂̊ḯ̵̮̰͝ ̷̦̜̪̬̿͂̓͒̚l̶͓̬̣͚͈̉ȃ̵̰̭̮͈͐̿p̸͔̝̓̈͗̋ş̶̥̦̥͍̽͑͒̊, but you may call me Danyal.”

Clockwork nodded in return, motioning to the seats around him. “Please, join me.”

“Thank you,” Honestly, Danny had no idea where these manners were coming from, but they were here now and they seemed to be the right things to be doing and saying because he had yet to be attacked. And even when he’d gone to Pariah with the intent of a fight, they had a cordial conversation beforehand.

“There is a town from a Living Realm trapped in the In-Between Realm.” Clockwork said after Danny had sat down. “You seek a way to return them.”

Danny nodded. “Yes.”

“You walk a fine line, K̴͔̑͘u̸̙͌̋͠m̴̬̯̤̄͗̊̚m̷̹̜̟̣̈ḯ̴͚͕̙̗̥̀t̸͚̠̭̣͎̒̄u̷̺̹̫̅͑ṡ̷̞͆l̶̝̈́̌̅a̶̹̪̎̇̈̈̓p̸͎̬͖̺͊̾̽͜š̶̞̤͐͗͝.” Clockwork said. “The line between the Living and Dead is a thin one, and yet you walk with perfect balance.”

A million questions were going through Danny’s head too fast for him to fully register them. He asked, “Do you know what I am?”

The older ghost nodded. “You are P̷̺̞͆̓̇ö̵̯́̄̃̃õ̶̮͕̭l̷͕̪͉̮͚͆̽͆e̶̡̢͔̝̽̈͗̑l̸̢̖̗͇̐̿̕d̶̠̻̬̂̉̓̑̕ĭ̵̝̻͋̈ ̶̳̩̯̠͋̂̈́e̵̢̳̬̖̍͠l̴͓̼͒̄u̷̢̲͖̞̦̒̎̂s̷͙̪̘͊͒͆,̶̲͕͓͌̚̚ ̵̙̩͍͊p̶̫̼̪̝͑͘o̷̭̼̰̚o̸̖̭͓͚̲̽̓̅̏̕l̸͍͙̀̑̉ȩ̴̡̣͔̃̄͋l̶̟̫̭͗̌̊d̵̛̻i̴̺͈͉̔̂͘ ̷̜̯̣̙̍̅̇ș̷̌̂͝͠ư̴̰̿r̸̡̹͚̣͑ͅn̵̙͖̅̐̅ú̴͈͛̃͑́ͅḍ̶̖̱̍; T̸̬͒̆̎̈́͠õ̷̡̰̝͖̂̐e̴͙̊ͅl̸̥̥̹͚̩̥͊̄̀̔̈́͠i̴̟̜͖͔͓̦̔n̵̢͖͓͌͂ḛ̵̡̼͍̏̒͊̂͜͝ ̸͍̱͋̑͗ẗ̴̺â̵̧̞̰̣̰̬̝̊͌͊̆́s̷̤͍̱̜͙̑͒å̸͚͔̩̇̎͆͝k̴̲̅ä̶͕́̈́͂̎̂̏a̷̠͋́̌͊͊̓͝ļ̶̯̤̍.”

“What does that mean?” he wondered.

They shook their head. “You will understand in time.”

Danny was quick to concede the point. “Can you help me return Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ to where we belong?”

“I cannot,” was the answer, “But I can tell you how to do it.”

Danny hesitated for no more than a moment before nodding. “Your help would be greatly appreciated, sir.”

Clockwork smiled. “No need to be so formal anymore, T̶̨͇͋͌͆͌́ä̸͇̰͓̿h̷̥̓͌͋̈̔̓t̴̗̻͚͈͚̺̓́̔e̴̢̯̱̓̄̎̾̆ḑ̷̬̔ḛ̷̱̭̙̪͑̃͌̓͐ ̵̭̯͔̈̈̇̓̕̕l̶̜̞̺̜̦̋̿̄͒͊a̶̢̼͈͆p̶͓̟̱̣̉š̶̹͋̄̕͝. You are welcome in Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ whenever you seek it.” The whole building was filled with the chime of a clock striking midnight. “To take s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to the Realm in which it belongs, you must use Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿ to open a portal. However, once you put it on, you will be announcing your claim to T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾.”

“Wait,” Danny said, worry seeping into his tone and expression, “T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾? I don’t want to be King! I just- I wanna be me.”

“And you will be, but you must first make your decision. You told T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒ that you fight to protect, so now you must choose to protect. Claim T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾ and get s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to where it belongs, or refuse and keep s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ here between the L̷͔͕͔̂̿̆̾͠õ̸̭̙̮̭̽ͅp̸͚̲͍̐̚ͅư̶̐̍ͅt̷̡̰̙̚u̷͚̖͖̐̀̿́͝ḑ̷̟̲͔̭͗́̀ ̷̘̟̦́̾̒̑̕k̸͚̃ứ̵͕̘̥̩̾̓͑n̸̘̹̗̗͙̂͂̓͗͝i̷̳͕̝͂̓n̴̪̈́̇̌g̶̩͈̺̟͖̀̐̽͒̈ŕ̶̛̜͔͠ì̸̯̈i̸̠͎̳̳̓͠g̷̪̲̈́̽̐̌̄ì̸̮͌͒̌d̶͉̻̭̀̓͑.”

“That’s hardly a choice,” Danny said. Clockwork shrugged. “How do I use the  Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿?”

Clockwork’s smile hadn’t dropped at all during the conversation, but it did seem like they had only just started smiling. “You will know when you put it on.”

“Oh.” He remembered the little ball of fire in his hands. “When I beat T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒,” he held the small orb in from of him, “he disappeared and left this behind. What is it?”

There was a twinkle in Clockwork’s pupiless eyes. “That is the very essence of his being; his T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽. To T̵̨̉̈́̉͝a̴̗͉̪̐̾́̃ͅp̷̫̔̆̉a̴̗͉͛̈́̒͘͠ a ghost, you must End them by crushing or eating their T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽.

“What?” Danny freaked out, “I don’t want to End him!”

“Then keep that with you at all times.”

“What’ll- What’ll happen if I don’t?”

“It would be within your best interest to keep T̷̢̥̟̈̎̀͆͝ÿ̴̪̍́͌r̷̯͍̹̔̎͠͠ȃ̶̮n̸̦̪̜̓́̽͑d̶͔͚̿͗́͘ȋ̸̢̪͉̕ ̵̩̎͐̒k̵̥̬͐̌u̷̢̎n̵̻̾̊i̶̧͖̳̅̽ņ̷̞̫̹̀̿̔̈͘ͅg̶͖̻̈̋̎͌͜͜͝a̵͔̱͍̺̓͝ ̵̰̲̤̈́̏̏t̸̺̫͙͐̽̔͐̎ú̵͖̗̪̠͊ụ̸̥̖̈̀̆̚̕m̷͇͕̮͖͑̀͝ with you at all times.”

Danny gulped and nodded, standing from his place. “Thank you for helping me, A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓”

“It was my pleasure, K̸̡̧͕̇̑́̐̚͝o̸̧̰͕̯̿̐͠s̶͔͇͇̱̲͔̩̓̽͗̀͊̈m̶͉͇̟͆̄͆͆̈̉͘͝o̶̹̬̤̟̥̣̅͒́̇̇̆s̴̗͇̰̫͆͑e̴̪͕̲̪͎͓̾̚m̶̢͈̰̳̙̻̜̩̱̀̒ẹ̵̖̟͔́̃̒͑i̸̭̩̙͉̮͚̻̰̰̇̎̈́͊͘͠s̸̛̛͚̤̳̭͋̊́͒̔́̚̕t̴͍̮̱͈̹̞͊̋͂ḛ̸̢͙̺̼͍̬̙͍̣̽̎̊͘̚r̵̤̜̲̱̦̕.”

Danny left through the clock face, flying back towards Pariah’s Keep. It had been just under a day since he’d been there. Amity Park had been in the Infinite Realms for seven days now. Any attention drawn by them disappearing for a week could either be really good or really bad. Regardless, they’d all find out about their lost time as soon as they got back to their Living Realm and Danny was not looking forward to that.

He arrived at the Keep much as he had earlier. Though, instead of walking up the steps, he flew straight into the throne room. It was just as he’d left it. Before he went to the dais, he tried to calm his nerves by picking up the weapons from his battle. The daggers were re-hidden, the rapier re-sheathed. He picked up Pariah’s long sword and strapped it to his back, just under his tanto using the two halves of the former King’s cape.

With a deep breath, Danny finally approached the Throne, Crown, and Ring. He touched only the Ring, fearing what might happen if he even breathed on the other two, and slipped it onto the middle finger on his left hand. He felt a pulse of fury rush through him before it settled deep in his gut. The Ring itself changed from a simple black band to an obsidian ring encrusted with ice. It wasn’t cold on his finger, and was hardly noticeable.

Once again, he flew back to where Amity Park had been dropped. Once he was floating over the town, he reached for the power inside the Ring. It came easily to him, as though he knew exactly what he needed to do. He lifted his left hand, ripping it down in a quick motion. The green and black sky ripped open, blue calling the attention of everyone in Amity Park. He ignored them, pulling the rip bigger and bigger before pushing it down onto the town. He ignored the screams as the rip engulfed them. Then, once the last of the purple island was through, he zipped the rip up. In its place was the reactivated Fenton Portal. He used it to go home.

No one was in the lab when he got there, but he turned invisible anyway, making his way to his room to put Pariah Dark’s Core somewhere safe until he could get something to turn it into a necklace or something. He texted Sam and Tucker, telling them he was fine and that he was going to sleep before he texted Jazz the same thing. He told all three of them to wake him next week.

*

Danny woke up the next day because his parents had invited the G.I.W. over to study the Portal. He groaned and flipped over, shoving the pillow over his face. When that didn’t work, he sighed and got up. May as well be productive if he couldn’t sleep, right?

He was still so tired.

Sluggishly, he dragged himself around his room to get ready for the day. Then, with the fire orb that was the former Ghost King in his hand, he left his room and knocked on Jazz’s door. She answered immediately.

“I thought you were gonna sleep for a week?” Her answer was an explosion in the lab. She winced. “Right. What did you need?”

“Do you have-” He yawned. “Do you have, like, a chain or something? I gotta turn this into a necklace.”

She looked at the orb in his hand, slightly larger than a marble and seemingly made of fire. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not until I’m awake enough to explain.”

“Riight.” She turned and nodded for him to come in. “Let me check real quick, but I can’t promise I have something.”

“That’s-” He yawned again. “That’s okay.” He sat down on the armchair in the corner of her room, pulling the light pink throw blanket on the back on himself. It was really soft. His eyes drooped.

There was some shuffling for a few minutes, the quiet noise lulling Danny further to sleep. He startled when she shouted, “Here it is!” She turned to him, holding up two chains, one thrice as long as the other. “This should work- Danny? Are you asleep?”

He rubbed his eyes. “No.”

She smiled softly. “Why are you so tired?”

“No reason.”

“I’m sure,” she hummed. “Let me see that, okay? I’ll make a necklace for you real fast.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“No problem.”

Again, the quiet noise of Jazz working started to lull Danny back to sleep. He shifted to get comfortable, closing his eyes for a minute. A minute that turned into a day and a half.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jazz snarked when he left her room to eat breakfast.

He yawned, much more awake than before. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry about crashing in your room.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved off, “I crashed in yours, so we’re even.”

He reached up and touched the fire orb amulet that was now resting against his chest, fiddling with it as he watched Jazz make pancakes. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have anything, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, “Just a let-” He froze. “The letter!” Quickly, he flew up the stairs and into his room. On the desk was the sealed envelope he’d meant to send when he got home the day Amity Park was pulled into the Infinite Realms. He found his way back down stairs, not stopping by the kitchen before going outside to have it delivered. He stopped short, however, when he registered where he was.

This was definitely Amity Park, and they were definitely back in their Realm, but everything had a strange tint to it. He didn’t think anyone noticed, though. The sky was slightly more green than blue, same with the sun and clouds, and it was slightly dimmer and colors were more vibrant, like during a solar eclipse. The ground and buildings all had a slight purple tint that made the shadows darker. Every plant, animal, insect, and person he saw had a barely-there glow to them.

He stumbled. What the hell? Was this a consequence of being in the In-Between Realm for so long? What did this mean for the people and animals living here? What did this mean for him?

“Are you alright, D?” Jazz asked from the door behind him. She must not see it, then.

“Um, yeah, just, um…Forgot my glasses.”

“Tsk. You need to get better at remembering them, Danny.”

“I know, I’m just…still not used to them!”

“It’s been a year.”

“It’s actually only been three months since I got them.”

“Just go mail your letter. Breakfast will be done soon.”

He waved behind him, going to stand in front of the mailbox. He was quick to put the letter in and close the door, flipping the little red flag up. He hesitated before going back into the house, though. He shook his head and moved before he could chicken out. Damian had reached out after two years and Danny wasn’t about to make him wait that long for a response. It would be childish.

The anticipation of waiting for a response was bubbling up in his stomach again. It was just like when he’d sent that first letter. This time, though, he knew he’d get a reply.

*

Damian was worried. He’d sent Danyal a response, but he’d yet to get anything back. He couldn’t blame his little brother, though. After all, he’d waited two years before finally answering. He wouldn’t fault him for not even opening the thing. However, he did worry if something had happened. When he’d looked up Amity Park again, he found that the whole town was on lockdown; Nothing was going in and nothing was coming out. That was lifted a day ago, though, and there was still no response.

His Father and his siblings all remained none the wiser to his communications. At least, he liked to believe that. Father was aware of Danyal, but he doesn’t know that he and Damian are - were? - in contact with one another. He would like to keep it that way.

He wanted to go visit Danyal soon, or maybe have him come to Gotham. There was so much to tell him, but only so much room on some paper. He wanted to know things, too! Ask questions and get more than a few words for an answer. He wanted to be able to see his brother’s face for the first time since they were six years old.

But he might’ve fucked it all up because he was a coward.

There was a Media Block on Amity Park, Illinois. It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but it was glaringly in the face of anyone looking into the town. He hadn’t managed to get much before he was found and kicked from the servers, but he did find news on two hero-like figures in the town; one of which was being debated as a hero or a villain. Damian thought it should be obvious if someone is a hero or a villain, but that’s just him and the rest of the world’s opinion versus this tiny little city in the middle of nowhere.

Father had caught onto his distracted state of mind and threatened to bench him if he couldn’t pull himself together. He tried, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering back to Danyal and how he was doing.

He refused to answer anyone when they inquired about why he kept spacing out. He knew it wasn’t like him, but there was a lot on his mind at the moment!

The very next day, a letter from Danyal arrived for him. Like the last one, this one had no return address, but he recognised the handwriting. His family - minus Alfred - were all suspicious of the letter because of the lack of information on the front, but Damian batted them all away and took the letter to his room, locking himself inside.

As soon as he finished reading it, he got a piece of paper and wrote out a reply. He was not going to make his brother wait any longer than he already had to.

Was Danyal this anxious about getting letters from him? He hoped so.

***

Danyal Fenton, Jan. 26, 2014

I am fine, as are all of the others. Thank you for your concern. Though, are you alright? I found the Media Block when I tried to access any information from inside Amity Park.

Your offer of assistance is greatly appreciated. Does it matter what I ask for? If not, then I have an idea that would require me to call upon you. If you are willing, that is. My family, though I am glad everyone is back together and tolerating each other, are stifling. Especially since I have taken up the Robin Mantle.

The Media Block is very concerning. What is the government hiding and why does it require them to soft-lock the town? Would you like me to contact the Justice League? This is something they will be able to help with.

I would be beyond delighted to come meet Delilah. If you are willing to teach me how to communicate with her, I am willing to learn. عسى أن تقود النجوم مسارك دائمًا. Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic: Good to hear from you, brother

Translation 2 - Estonian & Zalgo - May I come in?

Translation 3 - Estonian & Zalgo: Greetings, young King … Master of Time

Translation 4 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Demon

Translation 5 - Estonian & Zalgo: Ghost Child

Translation 6 - Estonian & Zalgo: Half Living, Half Dead; A True Balance

Translation 7 - Estonian & Zalgo: My home

Translation 8 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Stars … My home … your home … Ring of Rage … The Throne

Translation 9 - Estonian & Zalgo: The Throne

Translation 10 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King … The throne … your home … your home … Infinite Realms … Ring of Rage

Translation 11 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King

Translation 12 - Estonian & Zalgo: Core … Kill … Core

Translation 13 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King’s Core

Translation 14 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Time

Translation 15 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Space

Translation 16 - Arabic: May the stars always lead your course.

Part 9 Storyboard