Kryptonese

by Your_Moms_Left_Toe

Summary:

This is based off of a prompt I found on Tumbler. Superman hears someone speaking Kryptonese. The next thing Danny knows, there is a Superman right outside the window.

Chapter 1

Danny felt an unexpected wave of relief as he stepped away from the chaos of Amity Park, if only for a little while. The GIW had been relentless lately, and now that they were working directly with his parents and using their tech, his life had become a special kind of nightmare. This summer, though, he had a reprieve: his parents had shipped him off to stay with his Aunt Alicia.

They hadn’t given him much of a choice, either. Too many instances of sneaking out and skipping school had finally pushed them over the edge. Their solution? A summer in the countryside with Aunt Alicia, under the premise that some time in nature would "do him good."

Danny wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Sure, he didn’t see Aunt Alicia often, but she genuinely cared about him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t have to dodge ghost hunters or endure food that tried to bite back. The countryside was calm. Quiet.

Alicia didn’t let him slack off, though. She put him to work every day, but even chores were better than the stress he’d left behind in Amity. No weapons pointed at him, no ghosts trying to rip him apart, no GIW breathing down his neck. And best of all, no running from his parents. For the first time in years, Danny could sleep—a full eight hours, no less. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d rested so well since his half-death.

The slower pace also gave him time to catch up on something he'd neglected: studying the languages of the Infinite Realms. Some of the ghosts in the Zone had been teaching him bits and pieces, but now that he was the Ghost King, the expectations had skyrocketed. Universal ghost speak was fine for day-to-day communication, but a king needed to master a variety of languages to handle documents, treaties, and the occasional verbal negotiations with other beings. Fortunately, his new status made learning languages easier, though it still required effort.

That afternoon, Danny had finished all his chores and found himself with a few hours to spare before he had to help Alicia with supper. He pulled out one of the books Clockwork had given him, a beginner-level Kryptonian novel written in a dead dialect. It wasn’t a children’s book (he couldn’t handle that level of boredom), but it wasn’t so complex that it would make him give up in frustration.

Settling onto the couch with the book, Danny began reading aloud. Kryptonian was tricky. Some words stuck on his tongue, forcing him to repeat them over and over to get the pronunciation right. It didn’t help that the language had sounds that weren’t common in human speech. Still, Kryptonian anatomy wasn’t that different from human, so he didn’t need to rely on his ghost powers to twist his vocal cords into impossible shapes.

Danny stumbled through the sentences, occasionally muttering in frustration when he hit a particularly tough word. But oddly enough, he didn’t mind the challenge. Struggling to master Kryptonian was…fun, in its own way. It felt good to focus on something other than survival for once.
A soft fluttering noise draws Danny’s attention to the window across the room. He lifts his head, curious, and freezes. Superman is floating just outside, staring at him.

Danny’s brain stalls. Superman. The Superman. Watching him. Why? His mind races with questions, each one more terrifying than the last.
Does he know about Phantom?
Does he know Danny is technically wanted by the government just for existing?
Is Superman going to turn him in?
Is this it. Has his luck finally run out?

Danny snaps the book shut, standing slowly as if any sudden movement might make things worse. His thoughts whirl in a frantic loop, but then he notices something odd, there are tears in Superman’s eyes. The man of steel looks almost…emotional. Hope and sadness flicker across his face, layered so deeply that Danny can’t look away.

That expression stops Danny in his tracks. Maybe Superman isn’t here to hurt him. Maybe it’s okay. Hesitantly, Danny crosses the room and opens the window.

Clark had been visiting his parents, as he often did. The farm always felt like home, even if he sometimes longed for the one that no longer existed. Martha and Jonathan Kent weren’t his biological parents, but they had loved him as if he were their own. They are his parents. And Clark loved them just as fiercely.

The smell of fresh apple pie filled the kitchen as his mom pulled one from the oven, filling him with the familiar warmth of belonging. But that peace was abruptly shattered by a sound he never expected to hear again: Kryptonese.

Someone was speaking Kryptonese.

Clark’s head snapped up. That voice didn’t belong to Kara—it wasn’t her tone—and it certainly wasn’t her fluency. This was someone else. A child, judging by the pitch and accent. The speaker sounded uncertain, stumbling through words and repeating them as if learning for the first time.

"Mom, I’ll be right back," he said, his voice tight with urgency. In an instant, he switched to his Superman suit and took off.

Following the faint sound, he soon found himself hovering outside a modest but well-kept house. Inside, a boy sat near the window, holding a book in his hands and reading aloud. Clark studied him for a moment. The kid had dirt smudged on his face, likely from a full day spent outdoors, and his black hair was disheveled. His pale skin and blue eyes stood out against the afternoon light streaming into the room.

The boy spoke again, carefully enunciating the unfamiliar words, repeating the ones he struggled with. He seemed determined to get them right, and Clark couldn’t help but feel a swell of curiosity—and a strange pang of familiarity.

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes flicked up and locked onto Clark’s.

Wide with shock, the boy froze. Clark could hear his heartbeat spike, rapid and erratic, but it gradually steadied as the boy took a deep breath. Slowly, cautiously, the boy stood and approached the window. Then, to Clark’s surprise, he unlocked it and pushed it open.
Superman didn’t know what to expect when the boy opened the window. He was still processing the moment when Danny hesitantly asked, “Are you… okay?”

The question caught Superman off guard. He hadn’t even realized there were tears in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, embarrassed but unable to suppress the emotion bubbling beneath the surface. It had been years—so many years—since he’d heard someone speak Kryptonese. He’d missed the sound more than he realized.

“What language were you just speaking?” Superman’s voice cracked slightly, betraying the hope he couldn’t hide.

Danny hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. He’d seen that hopeful expression before, and it always made things harder. What kind of answer was Superman expecting? Kryptonese was a dead language, and Danny knew it wasn’t something spoken casually on Earth. Could he get in trouble for knowing it? Technically, he wasn’t breaking any laws, but that didn’t mean things wouldn’t spiral out of control. Finally, he decided to keep it simple.

“It’s called Kryptonese.”

Superman’s heart leapt. Of course, he already knew that. He recognized it instantly—how could he not? But hearing confirmation still felt surreal. Could this boy be Kryptonian? Or maybe someone he knew was? It was almost too much to believe.

“What’s your name, son?” Superman asked, his tone gentle but probing. A Kryptonian name might offer the answers he was looking for.

Danny shifted uncomfortably. Superman wasn’t attacking him, so that was a good sign, but the conversation was heading into murky waters. Kryptonese wasn’t an ancient dead language; it had only recently gone extinct along with Superman’s homeworld. As an alien himself, it made sense that Superman recognized it. What didn’t make sense was how Danny knew it, and he wasn’t exactly eager to explain. Maybe he could dodge some of these questions.

“My name’s Danny Fenton,” he finally said.

Superman’s brow furrowed. That wasn’t a Kryptonian name. Still, names could be complicated. Maybe this boy had a second name, one tied to Krypton. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Superman’s eyes drifted to the book Danny had been reading.

“Where did you get that book?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and something close to desperation.

Danny tensed. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. If he admitted the truth, it would lead to questions he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t very well tell Superman, Oh, this? The ancient of time gave it to me so I could learn a dead alien language to fulfill my duties as the Ghost King. That would go over real well.

“It’s mine,” Danny replied, trying to sound casual.

Superman froze. Internally, he was spiraling. If the book is his, then… The thought caught him like a punch to the gut. Danny could be Kryptonian.

It wasn’t just the language or the book—it was the mere possibility that someone else had survived Krypton’s destruction. A spark of hope ignited in Superman’s chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. He couldn’t let himself believe it yet. Not until he was sure.

“Danny,” Superman asked carefully, his voice low and steady, “are you Kryptonian?”

The question hung in the air like a weight. Clark didn’t want to get his hopes up. If he was wrong, if this boy wasn’t Kryptonian, it would shatter him. It would mean everyone—everyone—really was dead.

Danny knew he wasn’t Kryptonian, and lying about it wasn’t an option. For one, Superman would definitely be able to tell if he were lying. And two, it was clear this was an emotional moment for Superman. Lying about something so deeply personal would be a jerk move.

“No, I’m human,” Danny said firmly. It wasn’t the full truth, but no one needed to know about his half-ghost status—especially since existing as a halfa technically made him illegal. Still, he’d have to come up with a believable reason for why he was learning Kryptonese. Or maybe he could just avoid answering altogether.

Superman nodded slightly, though he’d already suspected Danny wasn’t Kryptonian. As much as he wanted him to be, the odds had always been slim. Still, there had to be a reason this kid was learning Kryptonese—a language almost no one else in the universe spoke anymore. And Danny wasn’t fluent; his accent and stumbling pronunciation made it obvious this was a recent effort, not something he’d grown up with.

“How did you start learning Kryptonese?” Superman asked, his voice calm but curious.

Danny hesitated. Saying a “friend” was teaching him would lead Superman to assume that friend was Kryptonian, which wasn’t fair. Danny knew Kryptonians were supposed to be extinct, and giving Superman false hope would only make things worse.

“Oh, I’m somewhat of a linguist. I know a lot of languages,” Danny replied, opting for a vague but technically truthful answer. The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how suspicious that might sound. No Earth linguist could just happen to know Kryptonese.

Superman raised an eyebrow. The answer was vague, almost evasive, but he didn’t sense any hostility or malice from Danny. Still, something about this boy didn’t quite add up. Superman decided he’d keep an eye on him, maybe even bring this to the Justice League’s attention. Danny was clearly hiding something—but that didn’t mean Superman couldn’t get closer to the truth over time.

“Kryptonese is my native tongue,” Superman said after a moment, softening his tone. “I’d be happy to help you study if you’d like.”

The offer wasn’t just an excuse to learn more about Danny. Superman truly missed speaking his language. It would be a joy to teach someone who actually wanted to learn. He’d tried teaching his own sons before, but neither of them had shown much interest. Conner was more focused on spending time with Tim, and Jon was too young to care about languages yet. Superman wasn’t one to force them, but it still hurt a little that they didn’t share his enthusiasm for Kryptonian culture. Teaching Danny, though, might help fill that void—and give him a chance to understand the boy better.

Danny blinked, surprised not only by the offer but also by Superman’s casual confirmation that he was Kryptonian. Either Superman had survived Krypton’s destruction, or he was like Danny—someone who had died and come back. That would explain the similarities in their powers. Superman could fly, had super strength, and even had laser vision, which Danny could technically mimic with his ecto-blasts.

But Superman didn’t have a ghost core, at least not that Danny could sense. And if he was a revenant, he’d carry the unmistakable touch of death, which Danny couldn’t detect either. How had Superman survived Krypton’s destruction? That wasn’t something Danny could just ask. Bringing it up would be like asking a ghost how they died. Some things were better left unsaid.

Still, the offer was tempting. Danny wasn’t sure if accepting would make things more complicated or if it might actually give him a chance to figure Superman out.

The next hour is filled with Superman helping Danny. He explains to Danny the words Danny doesn't understand. There are words that don't have an equivalent in English. There are things that existed on Krypton that doesn't exist on earth. He helps Danny with pronunciation and definitions.

Chapter 2

Notes:

I know this chapter took waaaaay too long. I am sorry about that, but here's chapter 2

Clark knew he needed to keep a close eye on Danny. While helping the boy study, he noticed a few things that deeply concerned him. For one, Danny’s body temperature was unnaturally low—far colder than it should be. His heartbeat was the same, far too slow for someone so young. Clark couldn’t shake the thought that Danny might be sick. A heart condition, perhaps? That would explain the abnormalities.

The realization weighed heavily on him. A child so young shouldn’t have to suffer from such an illness. It was unfair. His heart ached for the boy. But beyond his health, there was something else, something Danny was hiding. Clark could sense it.

At the very least, he had a place to start. He knew Danny’s name, and that meant Bruce could help. The Batcomputer had information on just about everything, and if anyone could get to the bottom of this, it was Bruce. Clark just hoped Bruce wouldn’t immediately try to adopt the boy. He already had more than enough children. But if there was any way to help Danny, to find a treatment or even a cure for whatever illness Danny has, Clark would make sure it happened.

Clark returned to his parents' home, drawn in by the memory of his mother’s apple pie. He could never resist her baking, not even after all these years. But more than that, he needed to let her know where he was headed. No matter how strong or nearly indestructible he was, his mother always worried about him.

As he stepped inside, Martha glanced up from her knitting and gave him a knowing look.

“The pie’s cold now, dear,” she said. “You left in such a hurry. Is everything alright?”

Clark smiled, reassured by the warmth in her voice. “Yeah, everything’s fine. But you’ll never guess what happened.”

Martha chuckled, already heading toward the kitchen. “Well then, how about I cut you a slice of pie, and you can tell me all about it?”

"That sounds amazing," Clark said, following his mother into the kitchen. He took a seat at the table as she carefully cut him a slice of pie and placed it in front of him. The scent of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air, instantly comforting.

"Thank you, Mom. It looks just as incredible as always," he said, taking his first bite. The familiar taste melted on his tongue, just as perfect as he remembered.

"You’re welcome, sweetheart. You know I love baking for you and your father." Martha smiled warmly. "I’ll never forget the first time you tried my apple pie, you had the most adorable look on your face. You even asked me if you could eat it for every meal." She chuckled, reaching over to pinch his cheek affectionately. "Now, tell me, what crazy thing happened?"

Clark swallowed another bite before answering, his voice tinged with awe. "I heard a boy speaking Kryptonese. He was reading an old book from Krypton."

Martha froze, her expression shifting from amusement to shock. "Clark… I thought Krypton, and everything on it, was destroyed. How did he get that book?" she asked, her voice laced with surprise and concern.

"I have no idea," Clark admitted, shaking his head. "But I know for sure he’s not Kryptonian. His name isn’t Kryptonian, and when he saw me, he was startled. He didn’t hear me coming like a Kryptonian would. And he’s not fluent in the language either. He was reading the book because he’s trying to learn it."

Martha leaned in, clearly intrigued. "Do you know why he wants to learn Kryptonese?"

"He told me he’s a linguist," Clark explained. "He knows a lot of languages and wants to learn more." He paused, thoughtful. "His heartbeat was steady when he said it—he wasn’t lying. But I can tell he’s keeping something to himself. I think that secret might be that he’s very ill. I can’t say for sure, but something isn’t right."

Martha’s expression softened with concern. "The boy is sick?"

Clark nodded. "I need to go to Gotham and talk to a friend of mine. If there’s a cure or treatment, he might be able to help. But first, we need to figure out exactly what illness Danny has. There have to be records of it somewhere."

"I hope you can help him. If anyone can, it’s you," Martha said, her voice filled with warmth and certainty.

Clark offered a small smile. "I hope so too. He seems like a smart, good kid."

With that, he finished his pie, quickly washed his plate and utensils, then set off for Gotham. Flying was the fastest option, and within moments, he was soaring through the sky, the city lights of Gotham soon coming into view.

When he arrived at Wayne Manor, he landed softly and rang the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately, revealing Alfred, ever composed and welcoming.

"Mr. Kent, what a pleasant surprise," Alfred greeted with a polite smile. "Please, do come inside. Would you care for some tea?"

Clark returned the smile but shook his head. "No, thank you, Alfred. I need to speak with Bruce about something that may or may not be urgent."

Alfred gave a knowing nod. "Very well. Master Bruce is in his office." He stepped aside, allowing Clark to enter.

Clark was no stranger to the manor. He had been here countless times sometimes for work, sometimes to bring his kids over to spend time with Bruce’s. Other times, it was for League business, whether as Clark Kent or as Superman. But this visit was different. This time, he needed Bruce’s help.

Making his way to the familiar office, he stopped at the heavy wooden door and knocked out of courtesy. "Bruce, it’s me, Clark. Can I come in?"

From the other side, Bruce’s voice responded, steady and unmistakable. "Yes. Come in."

Clark stepped inside the office, shutting the door behind him. Bruce leaned back slightly in his chair, studying him with sharp, calculating eyes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Bruce asked, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.

"I need your help," Clark said. "Today, I came across a kid speaking Kryptonese. When I looked into it, I found out he’s sick, possibly something wrong with his heart."

Bruce frowned. "How could anyone other than you or Kara speak it? Is he a Kryptonian survivor?"

Clark shook his head. "No. I don’t believe he’s an alien, but I also can’t explain how he’s learning the language. He’s not fluent, which means he’s actively studying it. I don’t think he has any ill intentions, but I still want to know how he came across it."

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the information, then he gave a curt nod. "Let’s get started. Do you know his name?"

"Daniel Fenton," Clark answered. "I found him not far from my family’s farm."

Bruce stood. "Let’s take this to the Batcave."

With practiced ease, Bruce led Clark through the hidden passageway into the Batcave. The cavernous space hummed with the quiet buzz of technology, the massive Batcomputer illuminating the dim area with its glow. Bruce sat at the console, fingers flying across the keyboard as he input the name.

Daniel Fenton, Age 15. Born in Amity Park, Illinois.
Parents: Madelyne and Jack Fenton.
Sister: Jasmine Fenton.

Bruce’s expression darkened as he scanned the results. "There are almost no medical records for either of the Fenton children."

Clark frowned. "That’s not normal."

"No," Bruce agreed, his voice grim. "A lack of medical records, especially for children, is usually a red flag. It could indicate neglect or worse."

"This means Danny isn’t receiving any treatment for his illness. He’s never even been diagnosed," Clark said, his voice heavy with concern.

Bruce let out a displeased grunt as he continued scanning the data. "There’s more. When I search for Amity Park, almost nothing comes up."

Clark frowned. "Maybe it’s just a small town without much media coverage?"

Bruce shook his head, his expression serious. "No. It’s not just that there’s little information. It’s as if records of the entire town have been deliberately erased. I can’t find anything recent. No news reports, no official documents, nothing past last year. It’s almost like Amity Park was wiped from existence." His fingers tapped against the desk in thought. "This isn’t normal. If an entire town suddenly vanished from public records, it should have been on the League’s radar."

Clark straightened. "I could go there and investigate."

Bruce shot him a pointed look. "You’re not exactly known for your stealth."

Clark folded his arms. "That’s not—well… maybe a little. But I can be stealthy."

Bruce arched a brow. "Debatable." Then, shifting gears, he said, "Figuring out why the town is under blackout will take time. Right now, our priority is the Fentons. We need to make sure those kids are safe."

Clark nodded. "Agreed. What’s the plan?"

"I’ll go to Amity and investigate the Fentons myself," Bruce said. "While I’m there, I’ll gather whatever information I can on the town and find out who or what is keeping it hidden."

"Then I'll keep an eye on Danny," Clark said firmly. "I can monitor his condition. I’ve already met him, and he trusts me."

"You should also make sure he has no ulterior motives," Bruce added.

Clark shot him a look. "He's just a kid. A sick kid. What kind of ‘ulterior motives’ could he possibly have?"

Bruce met his gaze evenly. "My son was trained to kill grown men by the time he was nine. When I took him in, the first thing he did was try to kill Tim. Children are capable of dangerous things, Clark. If Danny intends harm, we need to stop him and guide him. The fact that he’s learning Kryptonese is a red flag. Someone could be using him. Children are easy to manipulate."

Clark frowned but didn’t back down. "I can tell he’s a good kid."

"And I believe you," Bruce said, his tone calm but firm. "But we have to be sure. We don’t know who’s been teaching him Kryptonese or who gave him that book. Until we do, we have to consider every possibility."

Clark exhaled slowly before nodding. "Alright. I’ll make sure no one is using him. But I know he’s a good kid."

Notes:

I'm not entirely sure where I am going to take this. I don't think I want to make this a Superbat fic. I love Superbat, but I'm not sure that is the route I want to go for this especially since there are already so many fics that already have Bruce adopting Danny.

Chapter 3

Notes:

I know this chapter is kinda all over the place. Sorry about that, I was struggling to organize my thoughts. I rewrote certain scenes multiple times. Like I said, I am not sure where this fic is going, but I did have an idea. I have never seen a fic where Aunt Alicia adopts Danny, so I am wondering—if maybe—that is a good idea. Also, you may notice an increase in the usage of em dashes from now on in my writing. I decided I like them. It is also a fuck you to people accusing anyone who uses em dashes of AI. like one, how do they even know AI uses a lot of em dashes—they are just telling on themself—and two, common sense says AI uses people's writing to fuel its responses.

“There’s something I need to investigate in Amity Park, Illinois,” Batman said, bringing up a series of files and maps on the Batcomputer. The screen displayed carefully compiled data, strange anomalies, and redacted documents— everything Bruce had managed to uncover.

He continued, tone sharp and professional. “Superman recently encountered a teenage boy named Daniel Fenton, Danny, who was speaking Kryptonese. He even had a book written in it. Both of these things should be impossible.”

The screen shifted to show an image of the boy and a partial scan of the Kryptonese text.
“We’ve already ruled out the possibility of him being Kryptonian. However, Superman noted signs that point to a possible heart condition. And when I attempted to dig deeper, I uncovered more troubling information.”

The screen flicked again— this time to a near-empty digital profile of Amity Park.

“There’s almost no medical history on Daniel or his sister, which strongly suggests potential neglect or abuse. More concerning, however, is that nothing has been coming out of Amity Park, not news reports, not social media, not even local government activity. It’s as if the town has been deliberately erased.”

Batman turned away from the screen to face the team. “Because of the scale and potential danger of this blackout, I’ll need to bring a team with me to investigate. Red Hood is not an option, given the sensitive nature of the situation, and the potential presence of minors, we can’t risk him killing. ”

"I don't work for you, old man," Red Hood said flatly, arms crossed.

Batman didn’t react to the jab, his tone steady as he continued. "I want Cass and Dick to accompany me."
He glanced at the others as he explained, "Cass is unmatched when it comes to stealth and infiltration. If something is being hidden in that town, she’ll find it. Dick has the social skills we’ll need. He can blend in, earn trust, and get information from the locals without raising suspicion."

"I'd love to," Cass signed with a small, eager smile.
"When are we leaving?" Dick asked, already mentally preparing himself.
"We depart in an hour," Batman replied without missing a beat.

Dick let out a quiet sigh. "Alright, I’ll get ready. But just so you know, this is cutting into one of my active cases."
Batman gave him a brief nod. "Noted. I wouldn’t call you in if it wasn’t important."

Dick headed off to suit up, slipping into his Nightwing gear with practiced ease. Nearby, Cass silently moved to do the same, her movements fluid and precise as she changed into her stealth suit.

Batman, of course, was already fully suited and prepared. He always was. With him, readiness wasn’t a choice—it was a constant state of being.

Danny was outside mowing the lawn—by hand. Not with a powered mower, but an old-fashioned, manual push mower. Aunt Alicia insisted it was “character-building,” claiming it was the only kind of mower she’d ever used. Danny had believed her.

It would’ve been a grueling task for most kids, especially under the summer sun, but Danny managed, thanks to the faint trace of ghostly strength that lingered in his human form.
Clark watched from a distance, a deep furrow in his brow. He didn’t like what he was seeing. Who makes a sick child do this kind of strenuous work?
Then again, maybe Alicia didn’t know Danny was ill. It would make sense. Danny hadn’t had any medical checkups in years, which meant no official diagnosis. Still, it didn’t sit right with Clark. Not at all.

Clark watched as Alicia stepped out onto the porch and called Danny in for lunch. She smiled warmly and ruffled his hair with genuine affection.
"You're doing a great job, kid. You’ll probably have the whole lawn finished by dinner," she said proudly. "I made some sandwiches and lemonade for us." She gave him a wink. "You’re such a good kid."

Her tone was light, her affection unmistakable. It was clear she cared about Danny. This fact eased Clark’s worry, if only a little.

The two ate lunch together on the porch, chatting casually while enjoying their sandwiches and lemonade. Once the meal was finished, it was time for Danny to get back to work.

He spent the rest of the afternoon steadily pushing the mower across the yard, sweat on his brow and grass clippings sticking to his shoes. By the time he finished, just before dinner, he was exhausted and ravenous.

Despite his tired limbs, Aunt Alicia had him help prepare dinner. Together, they made meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and collard greens.
As they cooked side by side, Danny wore a faint but genuine smile. There was a quiet comfort in the routine, in the warmth of shared work. Alicia seemed to glow in his presence, clearly enjoying the boy’s company just as much as he enjoyed hers.

Clark was now absolutely certain, while Danny was being kept busy with chores, he was safe here. There was no malice in it, just a sense of structure and care.
He watched as Alicia tidied up the kitchen with practiced ease, humming softly to herself, while Danny settled back down with his books, returning to his studies without complaint. The atmosphere was calm, even comforting—a quiet rhythm that spoke of stability, not neglect.

Although Clark was confident that Danny was safe here, he still intended to keep a close eye on him just to ensure his condition didn’t worsen. With a boy this young and this vulnerable, Clark wasn’t willing to take any chances.

Batman, Nightwing, and Orphan made their way into Amity Park under the cover of darkness, careful to ensure their arrival went unnoticed. Stealth is critical. Whatever was happening here, someone had gone to great lengths to hide it.

At first glance, the town appeared relatively normal. Quiet. Peaceful, even. But Batman knew better than to trust appearances.
Their first priority was investigating the Fenton family. Batman had already secured their address, and without hesitation, he led the way toward Fenton Works.
Given what he’d uncovered about Jack and Madeline Fenton—their eccentric scientific pursuits, unstable inventions, and obsession with the paranormal—the bizarre structure of Fenton Works came as no surprise.

Still, Batman knew this was only one piece of a much larger puzzle. With Vlad Masters’ documented ties to the Fentons, and his own suspicious background, Bruce was already preparing for the likelihood that they’d have to investigate him as well.

Batman’s infiltration of Fenton Works was anything but simple. The house was covered in a network of homemade, high-quality security systems, impressive for civilian tech, and dangerously effective. If he weren’t as skilled and experienced as he was, even he might have struggled to get in unnoticed.
Once inside, the chaos was immediate. Scattered throughout the house were weapons, clearly homemade, yet advanced, looking like something out of a mad scientist’s lab. They were crude in design but undeniably dangerous.

Thank God these people don’t live in Gotham, Bruce thought grimly. How have these kids grown up in this environment without triggering a single CPS investigation?
Navigating through the home, Batman made his way to the basement, only to be met with a scene that was somehow both shocking and entirely in line with what he’d come to expect, a complete OSHA violation nightmare. Exposed wiring, unstable platforms, more experimental weapons lining the walls—everywhere he turned was a new hazard.

But what truly stopped him was the massive portal built into the far wall. Glowing an unnatural green, it shimmered with energy that instantly raised red flags in Bruce’s mind. The hue wasn’t the exact same as Lazarus Pit waters, but it was close enough to make his stomach twist.
This wasn’t just a problem. It was a potential disaster.

Worse than he had originally thought.

On the other side of the portal, Johnny 13 watched with narrowed eyes. He knew damn well the Bats weren’t supposed to be anywhere near Amity Park. And judging by the way Batman was sneaking around Fenton Works, he clearly wasn’t aligned with the Fentons.

That left a few troubling possibilities. He could be working with Vlad—unlikely, considering Vlad barely trusted his own reflection. More concerning was the possibility that Batman was aligned with the GIW. As a founding member of the Justice League, he had enough influence to cooperate with government agencies.
Or, Johnny thought, maybe he was here on his own—digging into things that didn’t concern him.

Phantom had told the ghosts to stay in the Zone while he was away, to avoid stirring up trouble. But Johnny figured that instruction didn’t necessarily apply to his shadow.

"Follow Batman," Johnny muttered to the inky figure slithering at his feet. "I want to know exactly what he’s doing here."
Without a sound, the shadow detached and melted into the darkness, slipping through the barrier between worlds to trail the Dark Knight
Batman activated his communicator, his voice low and direct. “Orphan, Nightwing, I need to call a meeting with the Justice League. Stay here and continue the investigation.”

Without waiting for a reply, he switched channels to alert the League and swiftly made his exit from Amity Park.
Dick exchanged a glance with Cass, already anticipating their next move. If Bruce had just been inside Fenton Works, that meant it was time for him to pay a visit to the other major player in town—Vlad Masters.

Assuming the role of Dick Grayson, charming son and public face, he would approach Vlad under the pretense of delivering a message on behalf of Bruce Wayne. It was a believable cover.

After all, Vlad’s company, Dalv Co., had expanded at an alarming rate—almost as fast as his wealth. And when someone’s fortune grows that fast, it’s rarely clean.
Dick pulled out his civilian phone and placed a call, routing it through the proper channels until he was connected to Vlad Masters’ office. After a brief hold, a polished voice came through the line.

“Vlad Masters speaking,” Vlad answered, his tone smooth and professional.
“Hello, Mr. Masters. This is Dick Grayson-Wayne,” Dick replied, slipping effortlessly into his public persona. “I’m currently handling some business in Illinois and was hoping you’d be open to a meeting—on behalf of Bruce Wayne.”

There was a brief pause before Vlad responded, his tone warm and accommodating. “Of course. I’d be happy to make room in my schedule. How long will you be in Illinois?”

“Just for a few days, hopefully,” Dick said. “The earliest I could meet would be this afternoon say, five o’clock?”
“That works out perfectly,” Vlad said with a touch of practiced charm. “Allow me to host you at my home. I imagine it will be much more comfortable than an office setting.”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then,” Dick replied. This is perfect. If there is anything suspicious in Vlad’s home he’ll find it.

For now, Dick decided to keep things casual—walking around in civvies and getting a feel for the town. Low pressure, friendly, and just visible enough to attract the right kind of attention. On the way into Amity Park, he’d spotted a burger joint called Nasty Burger, and after hours of travel and coordination, he was craving something greasy and satisfying.

Time for a public appearance, he thought.

He stepped inside the restaurant, and the smell of sizzling patties and fries immediately hit him. Behind the counter stood a teenage girl with dark skin and long dark hair, wearing the standard Nasty Burger uniform. She was clearly trying not to look directly at him, even though it was obvious she recognized who he was.
There were plenty of other teens scattered around the place, and Dick could already spot the typical high school cliques: the jocks clustered near the back, the popular girls laughing loudly at a booth, geeks hunched over handheld consoles, band kids playing rhythms with their straws.

Then, at a smaller table, his eyes landed on two teens he immediately noted. One was a goth girl he recognized as Samantha Manson, he’d seen her at a few of Bruce’s galas, usually trailing behind her well-connected parents. Sitting beside her was a boy with an outdated PDA in hand, dressed in what could only be described as “tech geek chaos” fashion complete with a red beret.

“What can I get for you?” the girl behind the counter asked, her tone professional but carefully neutral.
Dick flashed her his signature bright smile. “I heard the Nasty Burgers live up to their name, in a good way. I’ll take one of those, please.”
He didn’t have to look around to know the exact moment the rest of the teens in the restaurant noticed him. The whispers started like a ripple.

“Is that Dick Grayson-Wayne?”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Why would someone like him eat at Nasty Burger?”

Dick kept smiling. That kind of buzz was exactly what he wanted. Let the town talk. It made collecting information that much easier.
“Excuse me,” Dick said politely, approaching the nearby table. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t help overhearing, what’s the GIW?”
Sam shot him a sharp glare. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

Tucker, meanwhile, looked a bit starstruck, eyes wide as he adjusted his beret. “The GIW is the Ghost Investigation Ward. You know, like… a government agency?” he explained.

Dick blinked. “Wait, there’s a government agency that investigates ghosts?”

Before either teen could answer, a nearby jock in a red and white letterman jacket chimed in. “Yeah, man. Amity’s got a major ghost problem. But the GIW sucks, they’re hunting Phantom instead of helping.”

“Phantom?” Dick echoed. “Who’s that?”

That question opened the floodgates. Suddenly, a small crowd of teens had gathered around him, excitedly showing off phone videos, blurry photos, and social media clips.

From what Dick could piece together, Phantom was a teenage ghost, apparently their local hero, who regularly fought off other ghosts that caused chaos around town. Some showed footage of Phantom flying, blasting ecto-energy, or rescuing people during attacks.

He was Amity Park’s own vigilante.

And somehow, the Justice League knew nothing about him.

Dick kept his expression relaxed, interested, but internally, he was filing everything away. This wasn’t just odd.

Batman knew he was being followed. The signs were subtle—a faint displacement in the air, a flicker in his periphery, but unmistakable. Whoever—or whatever—was tailing him was good. His first thought was a meta with cloaking abilities.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught it, his shadow shifting against the lighting in a way that defied physics. He narrowed his eyes. Something was off. It wasn’t just mimicking his movements. It was trailing just a beat too late, as if it were pretending to belong to him.

That’s when it clicked.
"You can stop hiding," Batman said coolly, not breaking stride. "I know you’re there. You’ve been following me since Amity Park… most likely from the portal."
For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, slowly, the shadow peeled itself away from his own like oil sliding off water, forming a separate, slithering mass on the ground. It hesitated—clearly assessing him.

Batman’s stance remained relaxed, but his mind was already cataloging every detail. Whatever this was, it wasn’t human. And it wasn’t random.
"I have some concerns about Madeline and Jack Fenton," Batman said calmly, his eyes fixed on the living shadow as it hovered just outside arm's reach. "I want to protect their children and the town. I’m guessing the Fentons aren’t exactly friendly to ghosts. I have questions. Can you answer them?"

The shadow paused, then gave a subtle movement that resembled a nod.

"Can you speak?" Batman asked next.
The shadow responded with a slow shake of its form—no.
"Are you a ghost?"
The shadow shifted again in affirmation—yes.
"Did someone tell you to follow me?"
Another affirmative.
"Was that person human?"
This time, the answer was clear—no.
"Do you want to cause me harm?"
The shadow stilled before responding—no.
"Do you think I want to hurt you or any other ghosts?"
A nod—yes.

Batman narrowed his eyes slightly, filing away each answer with precision. "That would explain why you’ve been following me. But let me be clear, I don’t wish harm on you, or your people. I only want to understand what’s going on, and make sure no one, living or dead, is in danger."

The shadow lingered a moment longer, then silently detached and slipped away, melting into the surrounding darkness.
Batman watched it go, knowing exactly what it was doing. It was reporting back to the ghost who sent it.

Johnny isn’t surprised when he sees his shadow, but he is relieved by what his shadow tells him. “Hey kitty,” Johnny says, “Wanna go visit a bat?”

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite how disorganized it is.

Chapter 4

Notes:

This chapter is pretty serious, so I put a little tidbit of joy in the end. I hope you guys enjoy. Also, enjoy the back-to-back chapters. because it has only been like a few hours since I posted the last chapter

Wonder Woman, Flash, Superman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and Aquaman were already assembled and waiting when Batman arrived. The atmosphere was tense. When Batman called a sudden meeting, it was never for anything small.
Without wasting a second, he stepped into the center of the room. “Superman and I have uncovered something… troubling,” he began, his voice firm and direct.
He launched into the debrief, detailing everything they had discovered so far. He spoke of Daniel Fenton, how Superman had found the boy speaking Kryptonese, how signs pointed to a serious, undiagnosed illness, and the near-total absence of medical records.

He went on to describe the Fenton home, its excessive weaponry, unstable lab, and the massive, glowing green portal in the basement. He noted the overwhelming presence of advanced ghost-hunting technology, and the strange blackout surrounding the entire town of Amity Park, with records and communication seemingly wiped from existence.

“Information is being blocked at a high level,” Batman concluded. “This isn’t just a local problem. It’s deliberate, and whatever’s behind it has the power to keep Amity Park off the radar even ours.”

Before anyone could respond to Batman’s report, the air was suddenly split by the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine, which is impossible, considering the meeting room was soundproof and sealed.

All heads snapped toward the source of the noise as, impossibly, a motorcycle materialized inside the room. Riding it were two figures: a man with a cocky grin and windswept black hair, and a woman with a sleek, confident posture.

Every League member instantly shifted into a defensive stance. No one should have been able to get in here, let alone materialize in the heart of a Justice League meeting. This wasn’t a coincidence. It had to be a threat.

“Easy there, Bat,” the man said casually, swinging one leg off the bike as his shadow slithered beneath him, alive with movement. “Heard you’ve gotten acquainted with a friend of mine.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. He knew this man. This was the one who had sent the shadow to tail him. “Stand down. for now,” he ordered calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Seriously?” Flash said, disbelief written all over his face. “They just broke into a secured meeting!”

“Technically,” the woman added with a smirk, “we didn’t break anything.”

She leaned coolly against the bike as her companion grinned wider, the shadows around his feet writhing with amusement.

Batman’s expression didn’t change. But his mind was already racing. This wasn’t just a breach. It was a message, and one they couldn’t afford to ignore.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Johnny said, his tone sharp but controlled. “Name’s Johnny, and this is Kitty. We want the Fentons gone—specifically Madeline and Jack. The other two are fine.”

“They’re hunting our kind,” he added darkly.

Batman gave a slow nod. “I’ve read their published work. It’s clear they’ve made some… dangerous assumptions.”

“They’re committing, like, ghost genocide or something,” Kitty snapped, arms crossed. “Our new king’s trying to keep things from getting worse, but he’s just a baby ghost. There’s only so much he can do before we start handling things our way.”

“I understand your frustration,” Batman said evenly. “Is there any way to speak with this king directly?”

Johnny and Kitty exchanged a glance before Kitty shook her head. “Not right now. He’s… tied up. Ghost stuff. Complicated rules.”
“But,” Johnny cut in, “we can tell you what’s really going on in Amity Park. Or at least, some of it.”

Batman folded his arms. “Then start talking.”

"So serious," Kitty said with a teasing smirk, eyeing Batman. "It’s kinda hot."
Johnny shot her a look of offense. “I’m standing right here, Kitty.”
She rolled her eyes, gesturing toward Batman. “Oh, come on. Look at him and tell me you wouldn’t want to take him for a ride?”
Johnny glanced at Batman, then sighed. “Okay, fair. But still.”

Batman cleared his throat, clearly unamused.

"Right, sorry," Johnny said quickly, straightening up. "Uh… okay. Where do we start?"
Kitty cut in before he could continue. “The Fentons—Madeline and Jack—they’re insane. They opened a portal into our realm, the Ghost Zone—or infinite realms, just so they could wipe us out. Not trap, not contain—kill. Permanently.”

She crossed her arms, her tone growing colder. “They didn’t care about balance or consequences. To them, we’re just targets—things to experiment on or destroy. And they dragged those poor kids into it too.”
“Yeah, and then the Guys in White got involved,” Johnny added bitterly. “We can’t even go out on our anniversary without getting chased anymore.”

“Who are the Guys in White?” Superman asked, brow furrowed.

“Major assholes,” Johnny replied flatly.

Kitty rolled her eyes but nodded. “They’re a government agency—official name’s the Ghost Investigation Ward. Supposed to be ‘protecting’ people from ghosts, but really they just hunt us down like animals. No questions, no mercy, no distinction between peaceful and hostile.”

“I have a question about Daniel Fenton,” Batman said, his voice calm but firm. “Do you know how he came into possession of a Kryptonian book?”

“Oh, that?” Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, it was a gift from a ghost.”

Kitty nodded. “You can find just about anything in the Ghost Zone if you know where to look or who to ask. Lost objects, stolen tech, even stuff from other dimensions. It’s like an interdimensional flea market… with fewer rules and more ectoplasm.”

“Does everyone who dies become a ghost?” Superman asked, curiosity laced with concern.

Kitty shook her head. “Nope. It’s a lot more complicated than that. Just dying doesn’t automatically make you a ghost.”
“In fact,” she added, “death isn’t even a requirement. There are ghosts out there who were never alive in the first place. Some are born from emotion, from places, from events. The Ghost Zone is weird like that. It’s not just the afterlife. It’s something… more.”

“Are you asking because you’re Kryptonian?” Johnny asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kitty immediately elbowed him, shooting him a glare. “Johnny! That’s rude.”

“What? It’s just a question,” he said defensively.

“That’s like asking a ghost how they died,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“It’s alright,” Superman said calmly. “I’m not upset. But yes, that is why I asked.”

Johnny’s expression sobered slightly. “Then yeah… there’s a Krypton in the Ghost Zone. Somewhere.”
“There’s a place for pretty much every lost civilization,” he continued. “It’s one of the reasons some of us call it the Infinite Realms. Past, present, future, dead worlds echo in there. Some peaceful. Some… not.”

“We need to get back on topic,” Batman said firmly, cutting through the conversation.

“Oh, right,” Johnny said, snapping his fingers. “The government pretty much declared war on the Ghost Zone.”
“Some ghosts have already fallen victim to the Anti-Ecto Acts,” he added grimly.

“The what now?” Flash asked, eyes narrowing.

Johnny shrugged. “I dunno, I don’t really understand all the political stuff.”

Kitty stepped in, her voice sharp. “It’s basically a set of laws that make it legal to hunt, capture, experiment on, and destroy ghosts, like we’re not even people.”
She scoffed. “You know, your standard genocidal legislation.”

The Justice League stood in stunned silence, the weight of Kitty’s words settling heavily in the room.
Without a word, Batman turned to the computer and began typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he dove deep into secure government databases.
Minutes passed. Then, he found it.

Hidden behind layers of encryption, buried so deep it was clear no member of the public was ever meant to see it, were the Anti-Ecto Acts. There had been no press releases, no congressional records, no public debate. Not even a whisper. It was as if the laws had been passed in the shadows.
Batman’s eyes narrowed as he read.

“This violates the Meta-Human Protection Act,” he said coldly. “And it was passed illegally.”
The implications hit hard. These laws didn’t just endanger ghosts. They opened the door for silent persecution of anyone who didn’t fit into a narrow definition of humanity.

And worse, Jason could be at risk.

"This is going to unravel into a massive government conspiracy, isn’t it?" Flash muttered, rubbing his temples as if bracing for impact. "It’s gonna be a complete mess."

Cass had already slipped inside the GIW facility with ease—too much ease, in fact. She had never been more unimpressed by a government agency’s security. If she hadn’t been trying to stay stealthy, she could have walked right through the front door without a single agent noticing.

Silently navigating the sterile hallways, she found an unlocked office and moved to the computer. Within seconds, she bypassed the minimal security protocols and gained access to the internal files. There were dozens—maybe hundreds—but one immediately caught her attention, File 001.
She opened it.

What she found made her stomach turn.
The screen lit up with data logs and a video file. Cass clicked on the video.
A young girl, clearly not human— with pale blue skin and glowing eyes—was strapped to a cold metal table. Standing over her were two figures in hazmat suits: one in orange, the other in teal. Cass’s breath caught.

Madeline and Jack Fenton.

She recognized them instantly, even through the suits. Their expressions were disturbingly gleeful as they began dissecting the girl, piece by piece, as if she were a broken toy. The child screamed, cried, thrashed, begging in a voice full of pain and fear, but the Fentons showed no hesitation. No remorse. No humanity.
And then… nothing remained of her.

Cass sat frozen, revulsion gripping her. But she forced herself to keep looking. More files followed. More victims. More experiments. Each one worse than the last.
This wasn’t research. It was sadism.

Cass took copies of every file, every horrific video, and every classified report before continuing her sweep of the facility. She found the holding cells tucked away in a lower level. Thankfully, they were empty. For now.

Silently, she retraced her path and slipped out undetected, regrouping with Dick at a secure, prearranged location.
The moment she arrived, Dick looked up from his comm and frowned. “You look pissed,” he said. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Cass didn’t speak. She just nodded and handed him a flash drive.
He plugged it into his laptop.

He’d seen a lot in his life—trained under Batman, fought monsters both human and otherwise—but nothing prepared him for what played on the screen.
His expression twisted as he watched. Horror. Disgust. Fury. His stomach churned with every passing second.

By the time the first video ended, he slammed the lid shut and staggered back.
"No one deserves that," he muttered. Then he doubled over and vomited.

Danny lay in the grass, arms folded behind his head, watching the sky as it blazed orange and pink with the setting sun. The air was calm, the kind of stillness that only came in the quiet countryside. Out here, the sky felt wider and clearer.

Aunt Alicia came out a moment later and sat beside him with a soft sigh, her gaze following his to the horizon.

“I remember when you were just a little thing,” she said with a nostalgic smile. “Your mom brought you out here—you couldn’t have been older than four. You looked up at the night sky like it was the first time you’d ever seen it. Light pollution’s worse back in Amity Park, so your little eyes went wide when you saw all the stars.”
Danny smiled faintly, not taking his eyes off the sky.

“You said they were the prettiest thing you’d ever seen,” Alicia continued, her voice fond. “We had to practically drag you back inside that night. You cried and cried the whole way in.”

She chuckled softly. “So I set up a little spot for you by the window, made it all cozy so you could fall asleep looking at the stars. You didn’t even last five minutes before you passed out, still grinning.”

Danny smiled softly. “I still think they’re beautiful. The stars, I mean. I know the names of almost all of them now.”
Aunt Alicia looked at him, impressed. “That’s quite something,” she said warmly. “Is that what you’re always studying?”
Danny shook his head. “Not always, but I do read about them a lot.”

She tilted her head curiously. “So, which one’s your favorite?”
Danny didn’t hesitate. “Betelgeuse.”

He pointed up at the sky. “See Orion’s Belt right there? That bright red star in the corner—that’s Betelgeuse.”
Aunt Alicia followed his finger, squinting up at the sky, then glanced sideways at him with a smirk. “Did you just make that up? You know I’ve seen the movie.”
Danny chuckled. “No, it really is called that. It’s actually called Betelgeuse.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So… did the movie name it after the star, or the other way around?”
“Before,” Danny said. “Which means the movie Beetlejuice is actually named after a star.”
Aunt Alicia laughed. “Well, I’ll be. I learned something new tonight.”

Danny chattered excitedly to Aunt Alicia about the stars, his voice animated with childlike wonder. He pointed out constellations, explained how to tell which bright lights were actually planets, named individual stars, and even launched into detailed descriptions of how stars are born and how they die. His eyes sparkled as he spoke, his passion lighting up his face more than the stars above.

Aunt Alicia listened with a soft smile, warmth blooming in her chest. To her, he was still that same sweet little boy who once cried over the stars.
Maddie had told her Danny was having “behavioral problems,” but Alicia just didn’t see it.
He was a hard worker. He helped around the house without complaint, never talked back, never snuck out, and always spoke to her with kindness and respect. If anything, he acted like the perfect kid.
Whatever Maddie saw, Alicia couldn’t help but think, maybe the problem wasn’t Danny.