Chapter Text
You do a ritual and the ghost appears
Tim Drake had been in a lot of weird situations as a vigilante.
As Robin, he’d played a cosmic baseball game against New Gods to determine the fate of the planet, fought a serial killer who had murdered Secret (his own sister!), and even spent a season as Santa. Not to mention that time he had to fight his own dark future self and—oh yeah—cut off a guy’s hand.
As Red Robin, he’d rescued Batman from the timestream, blown up multiple League of Assassins bases (losing his spleen in the process), been kidnapped by Ra’s al Ghul, and fought Deathtrap while the Titans collectively fumbled their way through a leadership crisis.
So really, waking up with a splitting headache, tied up in the middle of a creepy ritual circle while a bunch of cultists chanted ominously? Barely made the top ten.
Still, he really, really hoped no one in the Batfam ever found out about this.
On the bright side, he was still wearing his Red Robin suit, which meant the cultists hadn’t connected him to Tim Drake, young CEO of Wayne Enterprises. The downside? The mask meant they weren’t just sacrificing him for fun—they were trying to summon something nasty. He was a big sacrifice after all.
Why a big sacrifice, you ask? No clue. But according to the latest Justice League Dark handbook (yes, that was a thing), “hero” souls carried extra weight in supernatural rituals. And yes, “heroes” was in quotation marks, because no Bat would willingly use that word. They fought hard to be called vigilantes, thank you very much.
Anyway.
Tim sat in the middle of a bloodstained summoning circle, hands tied behind his back, trying very hard to wiggle his hidden dagger free from his glove without alerting the cultists. The robed weirdos were still mid-chant, spraying—hopefully—animal blood all over the place.
Just another Tuesday night in Gotham.
Tim had been in enough hostage situations to know that silence only encouraged the bad guys. And since he wasn’t about to go down quietly, he cleared his throat and addressed the cultists.
"So, just checking—am I being sacrificed to appease some ancient horror, or is this more of a ‘bring forth our dark lord and rule the world’ kind of deal? Because, personally, I’d recommend against the second option. Historically speaking, that never works out.”
The cultists ignored him, droning in what he could only assume was either Latin or the result of someone having a stroke into Google Translate.
“Okay, rude,” Tim muttered. “I’m just saying, ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ go a long way in these scenarios. Maybe then your eldritch horror wouldn't immediately smite you upon arrival.”
Still no response.
Tim sighed. “Right, strong, silent type. Got it. But real talk—who chose the blood aesthetic? It’s a bit cliché, don’t you think? Red candles? Animal entrails? You’re one ominous organ tune away from being a Scooby-Doo villain.”
That got a reaction. One of the hooded figures huffed and picked up a bowl, then promptly chucked its contents at Tim.
Cold, viscous liquid splattered across his chest and face.
“Oh, come on,” Tim groaned, blinking blood out of his eyes. “Seriously? I was just pointing out the obvious. No need to go full Carrie on me.” He licked his lips and immediately regretted it. “Ugh. That better be pig’s blood, or I’m gonna have to get a whole round of shots after this.”
Before he could continue his delightful back-and-forth with the world's least fun LARP group, the air in the room shifted.
The candles flickered. The chanting grew feverish. And then—
The summoning circle lit up like a Christmas tree.
Tim, still tied up in the middle of it, felt the distinct hum of reality deciding to take a day off. He looked down at the glowing sigils beneath him and sighed.
“Oh no.”
The floor cracked open. Green light poured out, illuminating the cavernous space as something began clawing its way up from the abyss.
First, a pair of white gloves emerged, gripping the edge of reality like it was a trapdoor. Then a black hazmat suit, a tangle of white hair, and—oh, great—a crown of actual, honest-to-God fire.
Despite all of that, the figure looked…weirdly human.
Like, if it weren’t for the whole ‘dramatically emerging from the underworld’ bit, Tim would’ve guessed this was just some random twenty-something who made bad life choices.
Except for the cape. That was definitely woven from galaxies, and Tim was about 90% sure that wasn’t a standard fashion statement.
The cultists dropped to their knees, chanting his name.
Tim tilted his head. “Huh. So, you’re the big bad? Kind of expected more tentacles.”
The so-called Ghost King turned his glowing green eyes on Tim and blinked.
Tim blinked back.
The entity slowly looked around at the kneeling cultists, then back at Tim, then back at the cultists.
“…Uh,” the ghost muttered.
Tim grinned. “Yeah, buddy. Same.”
“Oh, revered Ghost King,” one of the cultists intoned reverently.
"Phantom," the supposed Ghost King corrected, stepping behind Tim.
Tim immediately tensed. Not great. The whole being tied up in a glowing summoning circle thing had already knocked this night into the top five Worst Kidnappings of His Career, and now the all-powerful spectral entity was behind him. He braced for—well, something.
Instead, he felt hands on his bindings.
Was he…? Was he untying him?
"Revered Ghost King Phantom," the cultists tried again.
"Just Phantom, please," the guy corrected once more, sounding vaguely exasperated.
Tim twisted his wrists and realized that, yep, his bindings were now loose. Well. That was easy. He slipped out of them and rubbed his wrists, then turned to Phantom with open suspicion. Because sure, this guy had been forcibly summoned, but he was still the Ghost King , right?
Phantom just shrugged, crossing his arms as he turned back to the cultists.
The cultists, for their part, looked a little confused. Probably not how they expected this to go.
“So,” Phantom prompted, “what did you guys want?”
The lead cultist perked up. “We offer you this virgin hero—”
“ Rude! ” Tim yelped. “I am not a virgin!”
Phantom turned his head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow.
Tim scowled. “ Not the point! Continue.”
“Right,” the cultist cleared his throat. “We offer you this hero’s soul in exchange for your divine aid in purging this corrupted society that refuses to acknowledge the importance of well-mannered women and the inherent superiority of the Alpha Male.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Tim blinked. “So, just so we’re clear—you guys kidnapped me, dragged me away from Taco Tuesday , and tried to sacrifice me because your incel brains couldn’t handle a woman rejecting you?”
“Uh…”
Phantom made a face. “Yeah, no. Hard pass.”
“Right?” Tim gestured at him. “Like, get therapy, my dudes.”
The cultists looked between them, clearly struggling to process this turn of events. Tim, meanwhile, was already trying to figure out how best to take advantage of their confusion.
Phantom, however, just sighed and muttered, “I hate when these guys summon me.”
Tim dusted off his now-free hands and turned to Phantom. “So… you get summoned by incels often?”
Phantom let out a long-suffering sigh. “As often as I get summoned by angry Christians, for some reason.”
Tim squinted. “Wait, really? ”
“Yep.” Phantom snapped his fingers.
Immediately, the sticky, drying blood that had turned Tim into an overachieving Halloween costume vanished, leaving him miraculously clean. Tim looked down at his suit, running a hand over the fabric.
“Oh, that is handy,” he muttered. “Think you can do laundry? I’ve got a hoodie that’s seen things.”
But before Phantom could answer, the summoning circle burst into flames . The eerie green fire licked up from the ground, consuming the chalk symbols in an instant. Tim instinctively stepped back, but it was over just as quickly as it started.
All that was left was scorched stone where the circle had been.
Phantom crossed his arms. “Next time you want to summon me… just don’t .”
Tim smirked. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna get a next time.”
Phantom hummed. “Good point.” Then, without ceremony, he snapped his fingers again.
Every single hooded figure froze on the spot. Literally .
Their robes stiffened, their breath misted in the air, and a thin layer of ice spread across their bodies in an instant.
Tim let out a low whistle, stepping forward to tap one of them on the arm. Solid. Very solid.
“Okay, I have so many questions,” Tim said, waving a hand in front of one guy’s glassy, unmoving eyes. “Like, will they be fine? Are they dead? How long does this last? And—most importantly—how can I learn to do this? Because this? This is so much better than zip ties.”
Phantom shrugged, looking entirely too casual for someone who had just flash-frozen a dozen people. “Eh. They’ll thaw out eventually.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘eventually.’”
Phantom smirked. “Depends on how good their life choices are.”
Tim grinned. Oh, he liked this guy.
“Anyway, sorry for the whole summoning thing,” Phantom said, completely casual about the crime scene they were standing in.
Then, as if this night couldn’t get weirder, he flicked his wrist, opening a swirling green portal beside him. Tim tensed, half-expecting some other horrific entity to crawl out, but instead, Phantom just reached inside and rummaged around. A second later, he pulled out a grease-stained paper bag with the Red Robin, America’s Gourmet Burgers and Spirits logo printed on the side.
Phantom handed it over like it was a peace offering. “I know it’s not tacos, but you’ve probably been here for a while, and you must be hungry.”
Tim blinked. Then, cautiously, he took the bag and peeked inside.
Yup. Normal hamburger. Fries. A soda.
He looked back up at Phantom. “You’re telling me… you just happened to have fast food on you?”
Phantom waved a hand. “Don’t look at it like that. It was my lunch, but with the whole summoning thing, I am definitely out of time to eat before my next shift. So, you can have it.”
Tim narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “How did you know ?”
Phantom tilted his head, looking genuinely confused. “Know what ?”
“That my name is Red Robin.”
Phantom blinked. Then, to Tim’s complete offense, he snorted .
“ My dude ,” Phantom said, barely holding back laughter, “if that’s your actual name, I have very bad news for you. Because I think you might be looking at a major copyright lawsuit.”
Tim spluttered. “Hey! I had it first!”
“I seriously doubt that.” Phantom grinned, already turning away. “Anyway, gotta scramble—I’ve got work to do. You try not to get kidnapped again. And if you do , at least make sure they don’t summon me.”
He flicked his wrist again, another swirling green portal opening up in front of him.
Tim barely had time to process any of this before Phantom paused mid-step and pointed at the cultists still frozen solid. “Oh! And don’t leave them in a warm place, or they’ll thaw faster. Okay, bye!! ”
And just like that, he stepped through the portal and vanished.
Tim stood there, holding a stolen burger and staring at the spot where the self-proclaimed Ghost King had just been.
“…What the hell just happened?”