Chapter 1: The Move
Notes:
Dante moves in, meets some nightlife, and does something unexpected
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“I think it'll be good for you!” Danny wheedles, curled around his shoulders, ghostly tail flicking like a cat. "You need to get a Haunt of your own."
Dante, grumbles under his breath. “Going to Gotham, Crime City, would be good for me? Do you know my track record with the bats?” He hisses, adjusting his glasses and thinking of just what he’d done to the Justice League in his timeline. Ugh. His lip curls.
“Yes! That's why it's perfect. What better place to cause chaos?”
Dante hates it, but Danny’s on to something. What with Dante’s core type and ghostly needs, Amity just isn’t for him. He can’t get what he needs from this place, and he feels weaker by the day.
Dante just looks up, almost unnerved by the glee in Danny’s voice. “You’ve thought about this too much, haven't you?”
Danny just gives him one of those feral grins. “Yup! And I've already had Tucker set you up with an identity! So now you have to go!”
Dante rolls his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose, exhausted. Truthfully, he was already on board when he heard the premise of the idea, he was just playing it up for his image's sake. “Alright you absolute menace. I’ll do it.” He gives a heavy, put upon sigh while Danny pumps a fist in the air triumphantly.
"Yes!" The little Ghost King crows. "Let's do it!!"
---
Recovery had been a long, arduous process.
Dan, Dante now, legally, still had no idea why Danny was so adamant that he was worth saving. After all Dante did, he expected Danny, the Gods-damned Ghost King , to lock him up and let him rot forever. He certainly had the power to do so.
So when he’d been pulled from the thermos he’d been trapped in and found himself on Earth, he was shocked. His powers were gone, and his form was human now. Danny had told him that, until he was reformed, he would remain this way. Initially, Dante had laughed and laughed and immediately made to cause destruction. But…
He had forgotten the limitations of a human body. Oh, how he’d forgotten.
So, years of therapy later, Dante is where he is now. He’s every bit as cold and bitter, or so he likes to think, but his views on things have changed. When you’re in his unique position, that can happen. Turns out, while caring for human life is stressful, it can be fulfilling. Dante used to hate it, but those feelings switched to protectiveness over time. He'd kill and die for Jazz, Danny, or Danielle. He just would.
Danny, his mischievous younger self, (little brother, his ghost says), had been far too patient with Dante. And now he was letting Dante branch out and away from Amity. All so he can have his own Haunt.
Dante wants to pretend he’s only agreeing because he wants the chaos and power boost that Danny says he can find in Gotham, but they all know he’s got his own personal reasons too. Reasons he refuses to talk about that can likely be inferred from the way he flinches when they drive past Nasty Burger or the school.
He adjusts his glasses as he steps out of the portal. The glasses were hard to get used to, but they helped people not see him as an older replica of Danny, according to Jazz. How? Dante had no idea, but he liked them. Not that he’d ever admit it. He thinks they make him look… not as intimidating, so… yeah. He can dissect those feelings later.
Shaking his head, he looks around his new apartment. It’s… It’s surprisingly nice for what he knows of Gotham. Empty, of course, but it’s not like he owns much. Permanence is a new sort of concept, so possessions are few and far between. He has a bed, at least, and a laptop and tv. Those are nice.
He'd never admit it, of course, but he's become rather fond of telenovelas. That, and reality TV. The played-up arguments, petty drama, and constant snark makes his buzzing mind settle.
That was another thing they’d quickly found out. Dante did not have the same core as Danny. Danny was all protection and ice and royalty, and Dante was… not. He was crackling electricity and fighting, chaos and guardsman. (Privately he was relieved. He wasn't a carbon copy of Danny. He was his own thing. This comes up often, his secret need to be his own being.)
That drive for chaos kept him alive, as with all ghosts and their cores. Hence why Amity wasn’t, couldn’t be his Haunt. It was too small and sweet. To soothe the hunger growing in Dante, to satisfy his core and keep him alive, he’d have to rip it to shreds.
Danny's suggestion of Gotham as a Haunt made more and more sense with Dante’s research of the place. It was perfect .
There was a constant push and pull of almost ridiculous villains and vigilantes, fights in all alleys for territory and control. Sure, some of the villains were truly repulsive, (Dante had a hitlist formed already, and he didn't think Danny would chew him out for it), but some were just so interesting. The things they did, the reasons behind it all…
It, for the first time in ages, intrigued Dan. Like the Riddler! He was just a man, but he seemed to thrive on traps and games. He hardly ever hurt anyone, but he consistently threw wrenches in plans and created mayhem purely for the fun of it. Or the Penguin! Sure, the guy had a whole empire and a dozen unethical practices, but his name was The Penguin . What do you mean he was the Mayor once? It's incredible. It's something Dante can get on board with. Considering he needs to make chaos to live and feed his core, he's taking notes.
Gotham is perfect. …Dante just needs to convince himself.
Standing alone in an empty apartment, Dante just has to convince himself. The yawning pit growing in his stomach doesn’t help.
Traitorously, he feels his eyes well with tears. The action makes him grit his teeth, a strange surge of rage filling him. He hates this.
He hates whatever this sick feeling is.
The walls suddenly feel closer than they should be, and all the claustrophobia born from ages in the thermos comes roaring back. His lip trembles, mouth pulling into a scowl, brows furrowed.
He snaps his fingers and he’s somewhere else.
---
The streets of Gotham are quiet. Not noise-wise, there’s plenty of noise, but energy-wise.
He’s standing on the sidewalk, staring across the street, which is entirely devoid of cars. His mind feels far away, and that makes him angrier. So he begins to walk.
Anything is better than his empty apartment now. At least here he can see the sky.
Or, well, he would be able to if it wasn’t thick with rainclouds. They weigh heavy over the sharp architecture Gotham is known for, the threat of a downpour present in the back of Dante’s mind like the buzz of an alarm. The tick of a countdown.
His boots scuff over stained, dank concrete. He’s not sure where he’s going, but walking feels nice. It's a reminder he’s, technically, free.
He exhales a sharp breath at the thought, ignoring the sparks that leave his mouth when he does. He’s close to a powerline, and its energy is seeping into his bones. It's nice. He can feel the electric potential beneath his feet, taste the way it wants to arc up into the sky as lightning.
One of his ears twitch and he swivels his head to listen. He's in tune with everything right now. He feels it all.
There’s a scuffle ahead, the sound of a struggle. Cloth ruffles, someone bites off a shout, and Dante moves. He’s running, and nearly passes the mouth of the alley the problem is in, forcing him to jerk his body to dart into the alley.
It’s at this moment he realizes he’s still mostly ghostly.
There’s a man holding a knife to another man’s throat, clearly trying to mug him. The attacker takes one look at Dante and freezes in his tracks, eyes going wide. Dante grimaces.
There’s a strict no meta rule in Gotham, and he certainly doesn’t look very human with his long, pointed ears, mouth full of sharp teeth, hands ending in nails that more so resemble claws, etcetera. Still, he bares those sharp teeth, turning his inhuman, probably glowing green eyes on the attacker.
A low rattling hiss leaves his throat, echoing between the tall stone sides of the buildings closing them in.
Before he even gets to speak, the other man takes advantage of the attackers pause and hits him over the head with his backpack. The attacker goes down hard, leaving Dante in a staring contest with the man in danger.
“Uhm…” The man says, tense.
Dante shrinks into himself, losing his aggressive stance. He takes a moment to wave a hand over himself, covering himself with a much more human appearance. Perks of the endless library he has access to by virtue of knowing the Ghost King.
“You can go.” He murmurs, trying to make it sound unthreatening. His voice is naturally deep and gravelly. He normally likes the intimidation factor it gives him, but oddly enough, he doesn’t want to scare this fella.
Dante shifts aside and the man all but speed-walks away, pressing himself into the wall to be as far away from Dante as possible. It kind of makes the pit in Dante’s stomach open up again, but he pushes that aside to walk towards the slumped body of the mugger.
He’s mid zip-tie, (don’t ask why he keeps them on him, he won’t tell you), when there’s a thump in the alley entrance behind him.
“Oh! Am I interrupting something?” A cheeky voice speaks up. “I’m sure whatever you’re doing is very important and noble , but I think you should step away from that man.” They add, voice too upbeat for the words leaving their mouth.
“Very noble indeed.” Dante throws back, not looking up from the last zip-tie he’s doing. “He tried to mug a guy. The vic knocked him out, and I-” Dante tightens the tie with a ‘shckkkk’ sound, “-I’m just making sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”
Dante dusts his hands off and rocks back to sit on his heels. He finally looks up enough to see the man addressing him.
Nightwing.
One of the Gotham bats, or, well, birds. Dante didn’t expect to meet him so soon, or, at all really.
There’s real surprise on Nightwing’s face. “Well look at me, jumping the gun when you’re just doing your good deed of the day.” He quips. He doesn't know the half of it.
Dante smirks up at him, but it's tempered by the thrum of discomfort in his voice. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve been told I look- ah- sort of threatening.”
Nightwing snorts, eyeing him up and down. “I could see it.” He remarks. “I’m Nightwing.” He adds with a nod.
Dante gets to his feet with a groan, one knee making a disconcerting ‘pop!’ “What makes you think I don’t already know that?”
Nightwing has the audacity to grin, leaning against the alley wall to his side casually. “I’ve been here long enough to know the look. You aren’t from Gotham.”
It isn’t a question, but Dante responds like it is. “Guilty. Is it that obvious?” He’s genuinely curious.
Nightwing shakes his head. “Not to most. I’m just used to looking after our newbies.” His voice is playful.
Dante hates that he wants to laugh.
“I’m sure.” Is all he says.
Silence hangs in the air for an awkward moment, neither really seeming to know what to say.
“Listen, it was nice chatting and all, but I really have to get going.” Dante starts.
Nightwing’s smile drops into something more serious, and the change is like getting whiplash. “Can you get home by yourself?”
Dante nearly rolls his eyes. “I think I'll live. It’d be way too embarrassing if I got taken out by a nighttime stroll.”
Nightwing doesn’t laugh. “I’ve heard that from a lot. Very few were able to back it up when they needed to.”
Dante crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have, like, a robbery to stop or something?” He grouses.
“Probably.” Nightwing fires back. “But that’s not my concern right now. You are.”
Dante sighs. He begins to stride forward. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, birdy. I can handle it.”
“Awww you think I’m pretty?” Nightwing's cheer is back, his voice playful again. It doesn't quite cover the concerned edge, but Dante appreciates the effort.
Dante doesn’t respond, shaking his head exasperatedly as he gets to the main street. He feels a headache, he thinks.
“Do I even get a name???” Nightwing shouts from the alley.
“Dante!” Dante calls back over his shoulder. There’s a pause, then a ‘swish-thunk’ that Dante registers as a grappling hook hitting the rooftops.
Dante gives in and glances behind him to find Nightwing darting across the rooftops and into the night. He nods and continues walking.
---
His feet lead him to the harbor. He’s pretty far from home now, but he feels more centered than ever. The clouds haven’t opened up on his head yet, so he’s content.
He thinks he may have a tail, though.
Not Nightwing. The man in blue is surely across Gotham by now. But, Dante assumes, when one Bat takes interest in something, the others are likely to follow.
It’s a flash of red he sees in his peripheral. Racking his brain, Dante narrows the menagerie down to Red Robin.
Red Hood doesn’t venture this far, and Robin is never seen on his own, so Red Robin it is.
This is all betting on his meager knowledge of the vigilantes. He doesn't like remembering stuff from his timeline, so all he really knows is they didn't stand a chance against him. He doesn't recall anything specific about any of them. No identities, no weakness or strengths.
He got a refresher on names and general areas before he moved and that was it. It's a lot like starting from scratch. He's privately very relieved he doesn't remember a thing about them. It would feel... wrong.
His senses, still tangled in Gotham's electrical grid, twinge, shifting his thoughts away.
As if his night wasn’t strange enough, there’s yet another scuffle ahead. Dante pauses. He’d already done his homework for the day, did he really want to get involved? Danny only asked that he do one good thing a day.
("We know you're better now, but trust me, this will help you. It feels good to be kind."
"What kinda Disney channel bullshit was that??"
"I WAS TRYING TO BE INSPIRING!!")
Dante has hit his quota. He could turn the other way and head home.
Even as he thinks it, he knows he’s made his mind.
He sets his shoulders and stalks forward, a growl on his lips.
There’s a man on the bridge with a bag in his hands. A struggling bag. A barking, whimpering bag that he’s holding over the water and cursing at.
“HEY!” Dante snarls, picking up the pace. “The fuck are you doing??”
The man startles, curses louder, and promptly drops the bag over the edge. He then sprints the opposite direction from Dante.
“Shit!” Dante shouts reflexively, the sound of something hitting the water echoing sickly. Does he chase the man or try to rescue the animal?
Again, was it even a question he needed to ask?
He strips his jacket off as he runs to the bridge, pulls off his glasses and drops them too, not caring where they land. It’s quick work to climb the railing.
He balances for all of a second, just long enough to spot the bag with the writhing thing in the water, before he dives off the bridge and into the ice cold, horribly polluted water of Gotham’s harbor.
...
It’s colder than cold. The taste that hits the back of his tongue, even without opening his mouth, makes him want to gag. Humans are fucking disgusting.
Dante swims on instinct. It’s not like there were swimming pools in the thermos, so he struggles more than he’d like to admit against the icy chill and currents.
Still, he reaches the bag and wrenches it up. The thing wriggling inside does not make it any easier on him, but can Dante even blame it? He holds it over his head as best as he can, trying to swim to the edge where the water laps angrily at concrete with just one arm.
It's now that he’s reminded of his own humanity, in this form. His arms and legs and lungs burn . He can’t go ghost, he still feels eyes and the potential for eyes on him.
He reaches, and manages to lock a hand onto the concrete sidewall. He mentally apologizes for the rough treatment as he hefts the bag over the sidewall first before grabbing with his other hand and dragging himself up and over.
He tumbles onto the hard concrete, chest heaving from strain. He sucks in clean air like a man starved.
He would love to lie there and catch his breath, but there’s still an animal in a waterlogged bag at his side. He pulls his dagger from his boot, rolling onto his side to grab the sack and cut through a seam.
He prays the thing doesn’t bite as he reaches a hand in and grabs something covered in fur, pulling it out. He settles it on the ground and blinks.
He looks into the eyes of a dog. A german shepherd, he believes, though the dim lighting could be fooling him. It’s tongue lolls out of its mouth, tail and ears pinned.
It looks just as stressed and exhausted as Dante does. He feels a strange kinship.
Against what Dante would assume would happen, the dog slumps over its paws, resting its head against Dante. Dante gives a small bark of incredulous laughter, bringing a hand up to scritch through the fur on the dog's back. It whines and begins to wag its tail.
“You're safe bud. All safe now.” If possible, Dante’s voice is gravellier from the water he may or may not have inhaled trying to keep the dog above water. He coughs, and it hurts.
The dog shivers. As if by the worst turn of fate, the sky opens up then, dumping rain on their heads.
Dante takes this as his cue to get up. He doesn’t touch the bag, leaving it at the waterside.
He tucks the dog under his shirt to try and keep it warm, because keeping it dry is impossible now, and drags his feet back to the bridge.
There’s a figure there that disappears like- well, like a ghost ironically enough, when he gets close. There’s something like a relieved exhale from nearby, and Dante sees another flash of red. It’s obvious Red Robin wants to approach, probably to try and give unwanted advice like Nightwing.
Before that can happen, Dante collects his strewn jacket and glasses and turns towards the subway system. He lets the hum of electronics guide him, feels the wires strung through the walls pulse and twist with the tunnels.
It’s easy enough to lose his tail.
Isolated in some maintenance backway, Dante sluggishly opens a portal and steps back into his apartment. He’s got to get himself and his new friend dry.
Welcome to Gotham.
Notes:
Dante: "Gotham is perfect. It's cold and dark LIKE MY SOUL."
Dante, *Cuddling his rescue dog, swearing his life to her*: "My reign of terror will shake Gotham. >:("
Chapter 2: A new terror has entered the villa- er- city.
Summary:
Dante has a dog. Okay. This is fine. His hunger for chaos rears its head and puts an unsuspecting villain in his path. Gotham is NOT ready for Dante.
Notes:
I normally take longer between chapters, but I just couldn't stop writing. I hope you all enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
So. Now Dante’s got a dog. He’s got no name for her, but she’s most certainly his now.
He’d rushed her to a warm bath to combat the chill from the rain and harbor, and to hopefully wash off the filth of the water. Google assured him this was the right course of action. He likes this internet thing, even if it’s more confusing than not normally.
He dries her off, fighting his own shivers.
After he’s double-checked that she’s settled in a pile of his spare clothes and blankets, he takes his own shower. Ancients, he’s never been more grateful for a shower in his entire life. In his entire un-life, too. Gotham’s harbor is hellish. How any living creature survives there is a mystery to Dante.
But he’s got a dog now.
When he falls asleep that night, it’s not on his mattress. He piles more blankets beside his dog and passes out then and there.
---
When he wakes, his body is sore all over. He flops over and lies flat on the faux wood tile of his apartment, trying not to groan in pain.
Something wet touches his face, and he turns to get a face-full of slobbery dog kisses. He sputters and sits up, gently pushing his dog away. He scrubs his face clean while she sniffs at his shirt and tries to crawl all over him.
Key word, tries. She’s struggling, pulling herself forward with her front legs while her back legs drag behind her.
Dante’s mind flashes of the bag and the icy water. He winces.
He knew she’d have to go to a vet, it just slipped his mind in the wee hours of last night. Not that there’d have been any vets open then, but still.
“Alright, girl.” He coos in his gentlest voice, scooping her into his arms. “Vet time.”
Dante is going to be the best dog dad in the world.
---
He’s there the second the doors to the clinic open. It’s a nicer one, closer to the rich side of Gotham. He figured he’d get the best treatment in a richier place. He’s got Danny’s endless amounts of money to work with here.
What he didn’t account for were the stares. He gets it. To a degree. He’s built like a brick wall, scarred in a lot of visible places, and he probably has his murder glare on. He had hoped that his glasses and the puppy in his arms would make him a little more normal looking.
Most of the blatant staring he can ignore. All except one.
There’s a spiky sort of child glaring him down. Like, serious “I am better than you and you need to know it” vibes. It’s weird. He feels oddly like he’s done something wrong and he should be guilty.
He glances up again and, yup, still being stared down. He accidentally makes eye contact, and the kid seems to take this as permission to get up from his chair and stalk across the waiting room. His dad, presumably, shifts forward like he’s prepared to intercept, but he gets no further.
The boy clicks his tongue. “You are holding her wrong.” He says primly.
Dante blinks. “Oh?”
The boy nods, crossing his arms with a scowl. “There is something very clearly wrong with her back leg. You need to support it better.” He says.
Dante feels off kilter, but he nods. He's not used to people speaking to him so boldly. Danny treated him playfully, his friends treated him warily, and Jazz was nothing but kind. To have an actualy child look at him like the scum of the earth is... yeah. Odd.
He tries to adjust his hold on his dog, but the boy ‘tsks’s again.
“It is like you have never owned a dog before. Do you even know what you’re doing?” He growls. There's aggression in his stance.
Dante stills. In the past, this would have ended very badly. Even now, Dante feels a familiar rage burn in his chest. How dare this human- Dante should- He-
Dante breathes deeply.
He's so sickeningly hungry for chaos. His ghostly half screams for it.
Out of the corner of his eye he notices the dad and the dog they brought get to their feet. He takes no real note of it.
Dante is human. Dante is more than the urge for destruction. He can cause chaos in a non-violent or aggressive way. This is not the time or place. Picking a fight with an actual child because he wants to cause some mayhem is ridiculous. Ancients, he needs to feed his core soon. This is exactly how ghosts go mad.
His therapy coping mechanisms filter back in pieces, and he breathes through the anger.
He twitches and opens his eyes from where he’s closed them. “You’re right.” He says, voice level. “I’ve never had a dog. She’s my first one. And-” Dante feels more centered.
He wishes he had something to fidget with. Instead, he just carefully pets through his dog's fur. “And I’m trying my best.” He looks up again. The boy's dad is close by, but he seems less on edge, their properly massive dog at attention.
“I got her last night, so this is her first vet trip.”
The boy nods sharply. “Well, at least you’ve done that much right. What shelter did you obtain her from? I will have them investigated.” Aw, that's kind of... sweet?
Dante's trying to find a positive in this kids behavior. He seems to care about Dante’s dog immediately, even if he’s showing it weird. See, Dante? Not everyone is out to get you, least of all a boy who's maybe thirteen.
Then, “A shelter?” Oh… this is probably a rich person thing. “I rescued her. The story is a little- I’m not sure-”
How does he sugarcoat this? He was trapped for actual ages, but he’s pretty sure human children are supposed to be talked to carefully.
Yet another ‘tsk’.
“I am not a baby. How did you obtain her?” He says, strangely stern for a kid.
Dante glances at the dad, who blinks like he didn’t expect to be noticed. He nods though, so Dante continues. “I was walking and saw someone holding a- a bag over the bridge by the harbor.”
Instantly, the kid’s eyes go wide. He corrects his expression oddly quickly, and nods for Dante to continue.
“I tried to get him to leave it, but he tossed her over. So I-” Dante shrugs. “I went and got her.”
“What.”
“I got her. I dove in and got her.” Dante shrugs again.
He runs his hands soothingly through his dog's fur again, the sensation grounding him. It’s weird for him to feel so antsy. Uncharacteristic. “So, yeah. I’ve never had a dog. The google said I need to take her to a vet, so here I am.” He fights the urge to shrug a third time.
Danny is the people person. Dante’s still working through isolation. He genuinely is out of his element here. He would be snarking and sneering normally, but he can't call it up.
“That is… very noble of you.” The dad remarks, voice much lighter than Dante anticipated. Dante almost squints at the familiar choice of words.
The man looks as though he’s connecting dots in his head, which is odd, because Dante didn’t really tell them much at all. Speaking of not telling them much.
“I’m Dante, by the way.” He offers.
Both the man and boy startle slightly. “Bruce,” says the dad, holding out a hand, “-and this is Damian.” He finishes, when it becomes clear Dante is not going to shake his hand.
Dante acknowledges this with a nod.
“And her name?” Damian asks, gesturing at his dog.
Dante hisses a breath through his teeth, looking away and feeling oddly sheepish. Again, uncharacteristic. “I- uh-” he winces a bit. “I haven’t figured that out yet. It was a rough night.” He defends.
Damian brings a hand to his chin thoughtfully. It’s an odd expression to see after so much animosity. It's like a switch has flipped. “She is clearly strong and resilient. She needs a warrior's name.” He decides.
“Oh?” Dante says again, still slightly dumbfounded by the entire situation.
“Yes. How about Rosaline?” Dante shakes his head. “Jeane?” Another no. “Sapphira?” Man this kid has a lot just off the top of his head. It’s impressive! But it’s a no.
Damian hums, then turns to his father. Bruce seems to be thinking just as hard. “You could go for something older. Morrigan, Bellona, or Bellatrix.”
Dante’s head sort of spins.
Damian nods. “Bellatrix is strong. You could call her Bella or Trix for a nickname.” Dante almost expects them to make the decision without him, what with the way they speak over his head.
He’s proved wrong, however, when Bruce smiles kindly at him. It’s weirdly… fatherly. Dante feels itchy.
“Well? What do you think? Bellatrix? Or should we keep throwing out names?” There’s a humorous twinkle in Bruce’s eye, and a wry curve to his lips that suggests they have a dozen more names if he wants them.
Dante mulls it over, but grudgingly decides he likes it. “Bellatrix it is.”
Damian nods approvingly. He promptly takes a seat nearby Dante. “There is much more to cover about dog ownership. I expect you to listen closely.”
“Damian, bud-” Bruce tries to interrupt, shooting Dante an apologetic look. Clearly Dante’s about to get himself into something.
Still, he waves Bruce off. “Nah, it’s fine. Give me the rundown.” He says to Damian.
And Ancients above, Damian talks.
---
Dante is tired by the time he escapes the vet. His head is full of advice and instruction, both from the vet and from Damian.
He’s got to add walks to his schedule, (“Not too strenuous. It may be bad for her leg, whatever is wrong with it.” Damian chimes), better food and toys, (“Enrichment is crucial during the puppy phase. And after” Damian nods), Shots and boosters and heartworm medicine and- A lot. Dante’s got a lot now.
He should feel overwhelmed, and he kind of does? But more so than overwhelmed, he feels… happy.
Bellatrix is going to be okay, and he’s got some structure to his life now. Things to do beyond floating about his apartment or Gotham.
The vet says Bellatrix has a birth defect called Swimmer Puppy Syndrome, but they caught it early enough there's hope for Bellatrix. A lot of hope, and a lot of tasks for Dante to do to keep Bellatrix healthy. Her back legs are extremely weak, but Dante is armed with dog PT routines, a food plan, and tips for bedding and exercise. And because she's a german shepherd, she’s got a better chance of healing up as opposed to a smaller breed.
He stops at a store before home and loads up on everything he could ever possibly need, swiping one of Danny’s cards easily. He carries everything home, through a portal, of course, and only struggles a good amount.
His apartment looks livelier now. There’s like three dog beds scattered about, but it doesn’t feel cluttered.
(Dante didn’t know which one to get. He then remembered Danny’s got endless amounts of money, and shrugged, dumping all three into the cart.)
His fridge is stocked with her food, which is mostly raw bits from a dozen different animals. It’s something out of a horror movie. He’s got duck neck and beef heart sitting next to the cut of steak he’s going to cook for himself. The vitamins and whatnot are elsewhere. It’s… good. It feels good.
It feels oddly like purpose, or maybe fulfillment. The thought has his mind circling back to his core.
His human half is satisfied, content even. His ghost half, however, is achingly hungry. The meager bit of chaos he got from running into Nightwing and Red Robin and confusing them wasn’t near enough. He needs full scale disorder, panic and disarray en masse. He needs more. He's played far too nice today.
And he’s got so many ideas.
---
Bellatrix is happily settled in her orthopedic dog bed, cuddled up to some squeak toys Dante picked up as Dante slips from the apartment and onto the fire escape. The glasses are left behind, along with his thick coat. It’s easy enough to scale up to the rooftops from there.
It’s now that he really has to think about his plans. He gets the best dose of chaos from causing it himself, but he can feed just as easily from watching it go down. He could go find some villain-vigilante showdown and rest nearby, or…
A wicked sort of grin comes to his face. He feels his ears shift to be pointed, his blunted human teeth lengthening to the fangs of a ghost. He blinks, and instinctively knows his eyes are glowing, his nails are long blackened claws, and the colors of his hair and outfit are inverting.
He shakes his ghostly form out and takes to the sky. He’s always loved flying.
He’s intangible, so he doesn’t feel the wind rushing over him, but he does feel the weightlessness. It’s pure freedom.
He zips under gargoyles and over billboards. He's already begun acquainting himself with Gotham, the spirit and energy of the place. He remembers that being a crucial step to establishing a Haunt. He has to know the place.
Part of that is knowing the people.
He alights on the rooftop of what should, for all intents and purposes, be an abandoned dock in the industrial district by the port.
It’s not, of course. If it was, there wouldn’t be such an intense hum of electricity, hundreds of wires and currents racing through the walls and floor.
He slips through a skylight, nestling into the rafters. The warehouse is stacked high with crates, boxes, and equipment Dante can’t identify. It provides many hiding spaces.
All sorts of henchmen mill about the wide open areas of the room below him, working like ants. Green ants. Green ants adorned in question marks. This must be Riddler’s next plot. Dante smiles wider.
Any villain would have worked for his plan, but Dante’s secretly overjoyed he stumbled on the Riddler first. He feels they are oddly alike.
In a moment, he’s no longer visible to the human eye. He skulks through the rafters to the darker corners of the area. There’s fewer henchmen here, which is just perfect. He lets the shadows cover and hide his form as he claws down the wall.
Tucked behind a box, he has to hide a laugh as he hears a heartbeat approach. A henchmen rounds the box, eyes going wide as they spot Dante.
Dante holds a clawed finger to his mouth, shushing them softly.
They open their mouth, much to Dante’s disappointment. They never listen.
He snatches them up before any sound can escape, spiriting them up to the rafters with a burst of invisibility. He makes sure to gently settle them on a beam, where they immediately squeak and rush to hold on.
Dante rolls his eyes. It's like they think he’s planning on dropping them. Besides, the beams are wide enough they should be more than comfortable.
He locks eyes with them, casting them in green floodlight beams. “How defiant, trying to alert your fellows.” He hisses, hovering over his own beam. “I think it best if you stay quiet. I’m trying to play hide and seek.”
The henchmen furrows their brows. “Hide… and seek?” They say, sounding dumbfounded.
He can taste the chaos in the air. Already, he feels ever so slightly stronger.
“Of course. And I’m. It.”
He disappears from view in a shower of sparks and the vague impression of a wide grin, taking out one of the lights above them. The glass doesn't hit the ground, diverted so as not to startle the henchmen below.
There’s nothing more than a grumble from the crew on the ground at the sudden lack of light in this corner. It’s their mistake to not investigate.
If they looked, they’d see one of their own sitting high above them, watching helplessly as a shadow darts about, searching for a new hiding spot.
---
One by one, as henchmen slowly stumble on Dante, they disappear. Another fluorescent light bursts with each capture.
It takes a startling long time for anyone to be put on guard. Dante’s got at least ten of the twenty-some-odd goons brought up to the rafters and half the warehouse shrouded in darkness when someone sounds the alert.
The remaining henchmen gather in the middle quickly, surrounding a figure who emerges, unhurried, from a tucked off room to the side.
Dante thinks he actually starts sparking in excitement. The taste of electricity buzzes on his tongue, and he bares his fangs happily. That's The Riddler.
There's murmuring from the gathered goons in the rafters, and Dante shushes then all, ears perked to listen to the scuffle below them. He's draped over a beam, attention fully locked in.
Riddler has a completely unbothered expression as he leans casually on his question mark cane thing. So cool.
“I know you're here, Batsy. What have you done with my men? I'm sure they're very frightened.” Riddler’s voice goes mocking towards the end of his words, the grin on his face unchanged.
“Batsy?” Dante purrs, voice drenched in static. “I think you've got the wrong idea!” He outright cackles. The laughter is glitched, dropping and picking up octaves as it echoes in the room.
The Riddler freezes, entire posture changing. “What have you-”
“Done with my henchmen?” Dante finishes the sentence for Riddler in a perfect imitation of the man's voice. “They're safe. We played a game.” He coos.
He feels nearly high from the brewing chaos. The racing of mind and heart, confusion and disarray. He forgot how good it felt to stretch his ghostly muscles. Ancients, he couldn't stop smiling if he tried.
“We're still playing. Are you familiar with hide and seek?” He continues giddily.
“I've heard of it.”
“Then you already know you’re losing-” The lights all finally blow out in showering sparks and glass.
Dante’s not heartless, he reaches out and pulls the shards towards him before glass becomes shrapnel against the humans in the room. He leaves the pile out of the way and swoops through the room, a blur of green and arcing electricity.
His game is already over, and he feels so fulfilled he really doesn’t need to do anything else here but wrap it up.
In the darkness, Henchmen scramble for light sources and to defend Riddler. Dante wills electricity to spark and catch their attention.
He uses this diversion to start carrying men down from the rafters. They cry out or otherwise are afraid, which… honestly kind of makes him feel bad.
He fumbles, but pats them each on the head in a manner he hopes is reassuring when he sets them on the ground. There! All better.
Once everyone is returned, he darts back up to the beams. He's decided he likes the height. It’s almost comfortable. Does Dante need a warehouse? ...Questions for another time.
He sets a hand to the beams and wills them to become live wires. The sheer amount of jumping electricity illuminates the warehouse dimly.
He knows he’s been spotted when people gasp and point weapons at him with shaking hands. Poor things. Maybe he went overboard? … Nah. No one's hurt, and they’ve probably had worse in Gotham.
“You’ve all been such good sports!” He calls, kicking his legs in the open air like a child. “I appreciate your… cooperation.” The word slides off his tongue with a maniacal edge. He can’t help it. He feels better than he has in actual years. Decades, even.
Danny was so right. Gotham is home. He’s itching to set up the ritual to cement it as his Haunt. It’ll take time, but he’s got such a good source of power now…
He laughs that crackling laugh again. One of the henchmen curses and fumbles his gun.
“I had fun!” Dante remarks cheekily. “We’ll have to play again sometime.”
Riddler speaks up then, looking remarkably unruffled. Dante hears his heart though. A trickster through and through.
“Of course, we all enjoyed your game.” He lies smoothly. “But perhaps there are other, ah, groups that would like to play as well?”
Dante finds himself intrigued. Riddler’s trying to turn him on another villain and their crew? “Oh? Do tell.” He leans forward, locking eyes with Riddler.
Riddler clears his throat, a tell for anxiety, but doesn’t break eye contact. “Certainly. There are many other groups in this city. Most of the nearby buildings belong to them, though I could not presume to know all of them. I can only definitively say that the building a block North from here might interest you.”
Dante hums. “You are an interesting creature, Riddler.” Dante peers closer, and a name comes to mind. “Edward.” He corrects with a slow grin. “Very, very interesting.” He muses.
He sweeps to his feet, peering down, ghostly form lit by crackling energy. He wants to go home to his dog. No point in dragging this out.
“Thank you for the entertainment. I do so love to win.”
He snaps his fingers and the beams no longer carry electric charge. Another snap and he’s home.
Bellatrix looks up and wags her tail. Dante’s on cloud nine. He thinks he may be floating. Ancients, he’s so full of energy he’s bursting at the seams.
He has the strangest desire to call Danny and tell him.
He thinks on it while he prepares a bowl for Bellatrix. Some kind of fish, cow liver, cooked carrots and sweet potatoes, her supplements, a quail egg, and so on. Eventually he decides.
Yes, he will call Danny. He sees Danny as family, right? That’s what his ghost believes. Danny likely won’t be upset at a call. He grins and dials.
…
Dante remembers only after Danny groggily picks up that it’s like 3 in the AM. Oop.
---
Tim sweeps into the Batcave, a concerned tilt to his mouth.
“Bruce. You need to see this.” He comes up to the Batcomputer where Bruce sits, pouring over a case, and promptly drops an envelope on the table. It’s already opened, so Bruce easily unfolds it.
His eyes scan the page, and his brow furrows. “It’s from the Riddler, yes?” He deduces.
Tim nods a confirmation.
Bruce wants to childishly rolls his eyes. He refrains. “Of course he can’t send a letter without the entire thing being in a cipher.” He grumbles. “Have you decoded it yet?” He asks Tim, swiveling the Batchair.
Tim nods, because of course he does. Bruce’s kid is just too smart for his own good. He passes the letter back into Tim’s hands so Tim can read it out. How the kid decodes it in real time, Bruce doesn't quite know.
“Dear Batsy,” Tim begins. Bruce tangles an exasperated hand in his hair. “One of yours terrorized me and my men last night. You didn’t tell me you adopted another menace! I’m hurt.”
Tim pauses to interject. “He drew a frowny face next to that last line.”
Bruce waves him on, feeling a headache already.
“Regardless, I would ask that you tell them to, as they say, ‘cool it’. Johnson has developed a fear of the dark, and some of the new henchmen have become trigger happy.”
Bruce frowns. He likes Johnson. The guy used to regularly get put on the kidnapping team and he always left the zip-ties a little loose.
Tim also frowns, but keeps reading. “If, somehow, this one is not yours, then you should know that there is some sort of unearthly creature who hides in the shadows and has stealth and skill beyond that of any wannabe vigilante we’ve ever encountered. And it has the power to control electricity. That feels rather important too.”
Tim pauses for a breath, tilting the paper to squint at the last few lines. “However, that point is moot because I am certain this must be one of yours. There are too many similarities in your styles of movement and propensity for hiding in the rafters. You had best introduce me properly once you’ve trained the fiendishness out of them. I am planning a wonderful puzzle for the both of you. Yours in crime, Eddie.” Tim folds the letter neatly while Bruce drops his head into his hands.
This is just what they need right now. Just perfect.
“Tim?” Bruce begins, voice already tired.
Tim doesn’t even let him start the question. “I’ve already done it. The others are notified and on the lookout.” He nods.
“Thank you.” Bruce groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you tell-”
“Also already done. Alfred’s bringing tea down now. And Ibuprofen.”
“...Thank you.”
Notes:
Riddler to Batman: "I KNOW this is one of your gremlins. COME GET HIM NEOW!!!"
Batman: "I- When did I get another one??"
Tim: "...I would also like to know."Meanwhile-
Dante: "Wow. Life is great. I love Gotham. I am having so much fun."
Riddler's entire gang: *Trauma response when anyone mentions hide and seek.*Dante is 100% the number one fan of the Riddler fanclub. He may have even founded it.
AND YES! I HEADCANON THAT DANTE DOESN'T REALLY KNOW MUCH ABOUT THE INTERNET. YOU'D THINK BEING CLOSELY CONNECTED TO ELECTRICITY WOULD MAKE HIM GOOD AT THE INTERNET STUFF BUT HE WAS ISOLATED FROM THE BIG CHANGES THE INTERNET WENT THROUGH WHEN HE WAS IMPRISONED. Also he had better things to do than worry about stuff like that during his reign of terror. Electricity is something humans harnessed, but the electricity Dante has is of the earth. It's older and more natural. Sure, there's interesting potential for his power and character now that internet and electronics are a big thing, but he's got stuff to figure out still. And it's funny. Do i need to explain more? Sorry for the yap
BUT I"M NOT DONE! Yes Dante reacted poorly to someone being aggressive towards him. In the last chap he didn't react to an actual attacker because the attacker was dispatched quickly. In this one, he's faced with genuine perceived aggression from Damian. No, he would not hurt a child. The way I've been writing his core is a lot like actual hunger for food. If he doesn't eat every so often, stay healthy, he gets desperate, subconsciously and consciously. It makes him impulsive and reactive. Again, he would not have ever hurt Damian. I write him as having impulsive thoughts. SO yeah. NOW i'm done with the yap.
Chapter 3: Haunt Related Business...
Summary:
Dante is itching to claim his Haunt. There's just one thing in his way. Or, well, one -somebody-. That's right. Dante has to confront the Ghost of Crime Alley.
Notes:
Blacked out, wrote like 7000 words, woke up and half-heartedly edited. Enjoy.
Genuinely it's like 1 in the morning by the time this'll be done. If i make a mistake don't flame me but feel free to RESPECTFULLY let me know lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dante feels like he’s settled in nicely.
Sure, it’s only been a week, but he genuinely does feel better than he has in some time. He’s still riding that high from messing around with Riddler and his men, Bellatrix is looking healthier by the day, and Dante- Well, he’s centered and grounded.
He takes a deep breath and feels his senses ping off of all the electrical currents running through Gotham. He closes his eyes and lets the feeling form a map in his head. His soon to be Haunt… It’s exhilarating.
There is a problem though. Just the one, tiny problem.
Dante rubs at the bridge of his nose, trying to will away his headache. His mental map of Gotham is almost complete, save for a single section. He’s walked the entirety of Gotham’s border, feeling out his territory and where it starts and stops. He’s walked all main streets, flown over the different districts, even visited the sewer system briefly, (and wow, was it extensive, there were so many caves he called it quits), but one area remains unknown to him. It itches at his mind.
Dante tries not to grit his teeth. (He does that a lot, but it’s got to be bad for him, ghost or not.) He can’t do the ritual and properly establish the Haunt unless he knows every inch of the place, front to back. If he’s not connected to it, it won’t connect to him, and his bond to the territory is weak and useless. This is going to be his home.
Permanence is fleeting in the Infinite Realms, but with his power and connection to Danny, Ghost King, holy Hells, he has more ability than most to hold onto something like this. He knows the whole of Gotham would be ambitious for most strong ghosts, impossible for the rest, but it should be easy work for him.
That is, if he could enter Crime Alley, as the locals call it.
There’s another ghost there who's taken that single district as their own. They don’t feel very strong, but their utter devotion to the area anchors them to it so firmly Dante would struggle to get it to accept him.
Now, tradition dictates that Dante fights the other ghost, claiming the territory by right of conquest like so many things for ghosts. The Infinite Realms operate on a dog eat dog basis like that. To stake a claim in the ever shifting expanse of the Infinite Realms, you had to be strong enough to back up your claims. You fought and won, and it was yours.
Dante’s gut roils at the thought of- of stealing Crime Alley, for some odd reason. Again, this has been happening a lot lately. Guilt.
The sheer love this ghost holds for Crime Alley, the lowest place in all of Gotham, almost… endears Dante? The notion is sort of sweet. Like how humans have a tendency to want to 'rescue' things. He's observed humans buy the most dented cans at the grocery for fear that the inanimate object will feel forgotten or somehow hurt. He's seen them band together to locate a lost toy for a child, like reuniting them was the most important mission they'd ever received. He could call up so many more examples. He didn't quite understand that way of life then, and he's trying so hard to see what those compassionate people saw in the most damaged of things now. It is so, so tiring, but so, so admirable.
He sighs heavily again from his own house, thinking it over. Bellatrix yips from nearby, wobbling about with her tail wagging.
He could try and… talk? With this ghost?? Figure out if he can have it but still let the ghost have some claim over it too??
Dante needs to call Danny and ask if that's even possible, honestly.
Or maybe he claims everything but that middle chunk? The idea doesn’t sit quite right.
His Haunt is his power, and if it were to feel incomplete like this forever… He chews at his lip restlessly.
Bellatrix, sensing something amiss, half-stumbles-half-drags over and into his lap. Dante, despite himself, coos and pets her carefully. She really has been doing much better in this past week.
Yes, a call to Danny is in order.
---
The news is relatively good news, at least. Danny talked with some high ghost or another and relayed it all back to Dante.
If he and this other ghost can compromise on a contract, the best outcome is possible. Dante could potentially get Crime alley under his wing, but let this other ghost hold the area as well. It just means Dante would need to take this other ghost under his wing too, and protect them as well as the territory.
It’s never been done before.
Sharing territory like that has been long thought to be impossible, what with the nature of ghosts. There has just never been another way to get what you wanted. You always had to fight, and you always had to win.
All in all, it's rather confusing. Dante reels from some of the knowledge Danny dropped, casual as you please, like he wasn’t bending every rule Dante knew to be true and infallible.
(“Nah, not really a big deal. Contracts, especially ones overseen by me, can bypass some laws.”
“Some laws?? Danny, you’re saying that a contract by you can break the rules of the universe! The Infinite Realms don't work that way!!”
“Eeh. I don’t really vibe with that ‘rule of conquest’ thing anyway. ‘M thinking about phasing it out.”
“Ph- Phasing it out?? … Danny, I’m trying very hard to be cool and calm right now, but you are more batshit crazy than I thought.”
“You know how I became the Ghost King, right?? This is nothing.”
“...”)
So now Dante’s standing outside Crime Alley, on the main street that marks the border between him and this other ghost, a meager gift basket clutched in his hands. He adjusts his glasses, then straightens his coat as best as he can without jostling the basket much. A single step is all he needs.
He breathes deep, and walks a pace over the line.
The difference is palpable. His boots feel suddenly heavy. There’s a strange sort of sourness to the air. Not a real smell, of course, but something entirely supernatural in nature. The smog has a tinge of malice to it, and Dante scrunches up his nose.
Something’s wrong with this Haunt, (because it is very much the other ghost’s Haunt, even if no signs of a claiming ritual are present.) It's like it's... infected, or something. Dante's never seen, or heard for that matter, of anything like this before. Sure, Haunts adapt to their Keeper, but this? This is strange.
It also quickly becomes clear that the other ghost has noticed his presence, as the air gets thicker. Dante nearly startles with surprise. This ghost really has Crime Alley for the very territory to be responding like this. It's... Well, Dante feels oddly unnerved.
The sound of tires shredding themselves on asphalt fills the deadly quiet of the Alley.
Dante braces for a ghost to appear, ready for anything. Any hope of this being a friendly meeting seems to have dissipated. Dante is gearing for a fight with a very powerful ghost.
When the motorcycle turns the corner, however, it is very much a human man that races towards him. A human man with the most rancid aura of any liminal being Dante has ever encountered. And, as he jerks the bike to a halt, jumping off and stalking towards Dante, more and more becomes clear.
This isn’t just any liminal being. This is another Halfa. One with a choked, unformed core and a wreath of malicious energy around him.
Dante plucks off his glasses and sets them aside with his gift basket. It’s becoming abundantly clear that negotiation is going to have to wait, if they can continue at all.
Dante gets into a low fighting stance as the Halfa covers more ground, a snarl on his lips. The Halfa's eyes burn a toxic green, and Dante recognizes it in a heartbeat. Soul Madness. How? Dante has no idea. He thought that sickness was eliminated ages ago.
Yeah, negotiations might be a thing of the distant future.
Dante lets out a low, crackling sound, egging the Halfa forward with a taunt in Ghostspeak. The Halfa, Dante will call him Limeade for his eyes and general bitter-sour tang, takes the bait near immediately, giving Dante a wordless cry of rage in return.
Dante rolls his shoulders to loosen them up. He could do with a fight today. He’s been wanting one for a while, and what is a more noble reason to fight for than burning off some of Limeade’s soul sickness? Dante knows how the disease progresses, and what steps to take to beat it back and eradicate it. Sue him, he likes to read.
He assesses Limeade and determines that if the Halfa was coherent enough to pilot that motorcycle as skillfully as he did, then there was hope. He clearly wasn't all rage just yet.
Limeade charges, and Dante catches him easily, swinging the two of them so he has an advantage before taking them down hard. They go tumbling end over end, fists flying as they grapple each other on the asphalt.
Yells come from nearby, but stop just as quickly. This was Gotham, after all. Nobody got involved in fights that weren't their business, Dante learned.
Limeade fights dirty, pulling moves Dante has only seen in desperate, cornered humans. They don’t feel sloppy, though, like Limeade had a lot of practice throwing down in this style. It speaks of experience, and thought process. Both of these things are a very good sign. He must only be in the beginning stages of the Sickness!
Limeade manages to get Dante in a chokehold, despite the elbows leveled into his gut periodically. Dante throws his head back, and Limeade’s skull cracks against the pavement. He only laughs though, which sparks a rugged sort of grin onto Dante’s face. This was working.
There’s a strange catharsis here. It feels less like Dante coaxing the rage out of a Soul Sick ghost and more like two friends duking it out just for the Hell of it.
They roll, and Limeade lashes out with his nails, catching Dante’s face. The pain is sharp, but not a deterrent. He’s not tapping out just yet. A laugh threatens to bubble out of him too, even as he feels the warmth of blood trickle down his cheek. Dante bares his teeth, spitting out blood as they roll, fangs and face smeared with it. There’s unbridled joy in Limeade’s eyes when he meets Dante’s, and it’s clear this is helping Limeade as much as it’s soothing Dante.
Geez this guy must have been out of whack, though. The way he throws himself into the fight speaks worlds about how much enrichment he's getting. I mean, going so long without a fight as a ghost, with Soul Madness on top of it all... Well, It’s going to have some effects.
It’s a wonder this Halfa stayed sane enough to hold onto his Haunt as strongly as he is. His love for the territory must run deep.
They tumble again, not so much trying to draw blood anymore, just play-wrestling now. Of course, someone seems to have missed the memo.
There’s a shout of alarm from somewhere above, Dante thinks, and then suddenly there are strong arms prying him and Limeade apart.
The arms hauling Dante away from Limeade are donned in a familiar black and blue suit, whereas Limeade is being dragged back by a vigilante in yellow plated armor that Dante doesn’t recognize at first. The name comes to mind after a second, and Dante wonders why Signal, the daytime hero, is out when the sun is clearly setting.
He doesn’t have time to ponder, as Nightwing is yelling at Limeade. “-were you doing?! You’re going to kill him!”
Dante tries to shake himself loose, but Nightwing’s grip is solid around his arms, forcing them to his sides. If he's going to keep up the facade of being human, he can't fight too hard, and has to accept he's more or less trapped.
Limeade struggles similarly before his mind seems to clear and he realizes where he is with a startle. The neon green of his eyes has faded to a more-blue-than-green teal. Dante blinks. He didn't expect their fight to do so much.
Just with this one fight, Dante feels the energy of Crime Alley shift. It’s still far, far angrier than a Haunt should be, but an ounce of the rage has burned away. Good.
Limeade straightens up, hissing in pain as he meets Dante’s eyes from under his black hair, white stripe nearly blocking his vision where it hangs over his face.
Dante winces, recalling the loud, painful sound of slamming Limeade’s head into the ground. “Sorry.” He croaks, aiming for an apologetic smile, interrupting Nightwing’s tangent of unanswered questions.
Limeade blinks, then gives him a wry grin back. He’s got a gnarly black eye already forming, but his eyes remain friendly. “Don’t apologize. I jumped you.” He says, his voice nearly as low as Dante’s but with a hint of a rougher accent. The reply comes as a surprise to Dante, seeing as all he'd heard from the Halfa so far was snarling rage. It's a welcome surprise.
Dante shrugs as much as he can whilst being restrained. There’s a sluggish flow of blood down his cheek from where Limeade raked his nails, and he really really wishes he wasn’t being held so he could swipe it away. It’s a sensory nightmare.
“I provoked you. Your reaction was reasonable.” Well, reasonable for someone who, by all means, should not be capable of civilized conversation. Limeade’s self control must be on a godly level to be resisting his soul curse so well. How he’s functioning, Dante has no idea.
Limeade barks a laugh. He cranes his neck to look at Signal over his shoulder. “You can let me go now. ‘Aint gonna do anythin’ else to him.” Limeade says, voice dry.
“I’d, ah, like to be let go also.” Dante says, trying to look at Nightwing behind him. He just hurts his neck, and Nightwing gets more tense against Dante, like he’s realized how close he is.
He’s released, Nightwing dropping him like he’d been burned. Before Dante can stumble and hit the pavement again, Nightwing swoops back closer to steady him. Where Nightwing’s face isn’t covered by his mask, he looks red.
…
Very mixed messaging here, but Dante is too distracted to pay much mind at the moment.
He steps forward, wincing at the dull ache of over-stretched and likely bruised muscles, and thrusts his hand out for a shake. Limeade wiggles free from Signal’s confusion slackened grip and shakes Dante’s hand.
“Jason.” He introduces himself.
Dante responds in kind with an equally concise, “Dante.”
“Wanna go get burgers?” Jason offers, like they hadn’t been brutalizing each other mere moments ago.
Dante thinks, then nods. He’s still got to talk shop with this Halfa. “Why not?” he grins, collecting his glasses and gift basket swiftly. Dante must have really overestimated Jason's Soul Madness. The guy seems to be doing just fine!
“Now, hold on a moment. We’re not going to just- just gloss over that!” Nightwing interjects, gesturing a bit wildly.
Signal rubs at the back of his neck. “I… I wanna agree. Ja- You guys just-” He fumbles, sentences falling off.
Dante cuts in. “Nah. It’s fine now. Got it out of our systems.” Dante says, headed over to admire Jason’s motorcycle. It’s a kick-ass bike. Red definitely suits that guy better than that nasty green.
“Besides,” Jason adds, “Don’t see how it’s a couple o’ vigilante’s business anymore.”
Dante frowns. There’s a strange undertone to those words. Something familiar, or maybe more targeted? More personal, at the very least, than Gothamites get with their vigilantes. Maybe, as Crime Ally's resident Ghost, he doesn’t allow them in his Haunt? Dante shakes it off.
“Be nice.” He chastises instead. “Nightwing’s my buddy. We bonded over a mugging.” Dante teases.
Jason barks a laugh, pulling his bike into a back alley and locking it up. Guess their burger place is walking distance.
Nightwing just rubs at the bridge of his nose, grumbling under his breath. “This whole thing doesn’t make me any more confident in your ability to take care of yourself!! I stand by my concern!” His voice gets higher, more frustrated, towards the end of his words.
Dante almost feels bad.
He crosses his arms self consciously, looking away from the blue clad vigilante. “Eh. Not the worst I've had. I can still walk, can’t I?” He says, going for reassurance.
Something in his words must not convey what he intended, because Nightwing doesn’t look comforted at all. Neither does Signal, for that matter, as he stands off to the side and fidgets with his gloves.
Jason reenters the street from whatever he was doing to hide his bike, and Dante takes the distraction immediately before things can get more tense. “Whelp! Thanks for the assist, but I am starving.” His laugh sounds far too forced. “We’d better get going. Sun’s going down.”
Jason, thankfully, gets the memo and the panic-anxiety in Dante’s eyes, because he jumps right onto that line of thought. “Soooo dangerous this time of day.” He nods in solidarity with Dante.
“Yeah! Nice chat!” Dante turns on his heel, walking further into Crime Alley. He’s so not running away from a difficult to navigate social situation. He would never.
Jason clears his throat and lowly murmurs he’s going the wrong direction, and the restaurant’s actually to their left. Dante fights the urge to drop his head into his hands, and lets Jason lead.
Ancients, what happened to cool, dangerous, calculating Dante?
...Stupid life as a human giving Dante stupid human emotions. Stupid.
---
Dante likes this restaurant.
He was iffy, as he always is when burgers are mentioned, but this doesn’t feel like Nasty Burger at all. It’s a nice hole in the wall, mom-and-pop shop.
He’s already informed Jason he has a time restriction and can’t stay too long, so that’s handled.
(“Ah, yeah. My dog is home alone. I don’t want to leave her long.”
“For some reason, you didn’t strike me as a big dog guy.”
“I’m not opposed to cats. Bellatrix was- she was a happy accident.”
“Ha! I get what you mean. Some things are works of fate.”
“Now, see, you don’t strike me as a guy big on fate.”
“And that’s where you’d be wrong.”)
They’re halfway through burgers, Ancient’s these are good, when Jason finally asks the question Dante had been waiting for.
“Lemme cut to the chase. What- what was that back there?”
Dante hasn’t known Jason long, but the stumble in his words felt… uncharacteristic. Dante sets down his food to better focus on Jason, even though Jason looks a bit uncomfortable under the new attention.
“There’s no way to put this where it isn’t blunt.” He starts, adjusting his glasses. Jason doesn’t miss the nervous tick. “What do you know about Halfas?”
Jason's expression is devoid of understanding or recognition. “Is that some new kinda slang? A drug?”
Dante’s lips pull into a line. This might be harder than he thought. “No, not really.”
Again, no nice ways to say this. Dante jumps right in.
“Halfa is a word used to describe a person who is half dead and half alive.” Jason jolts back like he’s been shocked. Dante steamrolls on. “I am a Halfa, and I believe you are too. It is very rude to ask a person if they’ve died, or how, though, so I'm not going to do that.” He gives Jason a warning look like, ‘and you don’t get to ask either,’ just so they're clear. “What I really came to ask about is more personal.”
“More personal than dying?” Jason interjects, leaning forward on the sort-of-sticky diner table.
Dante sheepishly nods. “For some. It’s about your Haunt.”
Jason’s brow furrows at the word, which seems unfamiliar to him. “The fuck’s a haunt?”
“Haunt.” Dante corrects.
“That’s exactly what I fuckin’ said!”
“No, there’s a different empha- This is not important right now.” Dante cuts himself off. His fingers itch to fidget with something, and he ends up fiddling with one of the napkins at the table.
“Your Haunt is your territory, or home, as a ghost. It’s more important for Halfas than full ghosts because it helps tie you to the world and centers that human half of your soul, or core.” He rambles, absent-mindedly ripping the napkin into tinier and tinier shreds. “Without one, Halfas will go crazy. Or, since there’s been so few Halfas, that’s what’s believed.”
Jason looks suddenly worried, so Dante tries to backtrack. “Not a concern for you, you’ve got a solid Haunt. A surprisingly solid one, considering. It’s myself that has to worry.”
Jason leans slightly away from him, back flush against his diner seat, eyes unconsciously darting across the various exits in the room. Dante doesn’t let it offend him. “Are you one of them crazies? Is this some kinda messed up prank? And fuck do you mean ‘considering’? Considering what??” Jason growls, eyes flashing with that green again.
Ancients damn it, Dante thought their fight earlier was enough to hold it off for much longer. He genuinely has no idea how to gauge how bad Jason's condition is.
“Not crazy, and not a prank.” He groans, dropping his head into his hands and trying to will away his headache. Is it best to just get out with it already? Dante’s tired enough to fuck around and find out.
He sets his elbows on the tabletop, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Look, Jason. I need a Haunt, and you need help. You’re sick, aren’t you? You’ve got Soul Madness so potent I can nearly fucking taste it.” Dante doesn’t like cursing, but it rolls off his tongue smoothly as he gains steam. Jason probably responds better to that type of language, what with how many curses he drops. “In exchange for allowing me to include Crime Alley in my Haunt, I will do everything in my power to continue helping you get rid of your illness. Your Haunt will remain yours, but I would get permission to include it in my protection and operate in it from time to time.”
He sees Jason open his mouth to speak, but keeps talking before he can say anything. He’s got to hammer this pitch in.
“You felt better after our fight, yes? Regulated. Soul Madness is something that can be burned off. Trust me. A schedule of fights and stuff to satisfy your core and in time you’ll be right as rain.” He rumages in the gift basket, still sitting off to the side as sadly as before, and comes up with the document. Straight from Danny’s hands, made with some kind of kingly magic because Dante knows Danny’s handwriting is not this good, is the contract.
He sets it on the tabletop and slides it over, feeling overmuch like one of the mob bosses in his telenovelas. “Read it over. I promise it’s nothing that poses any risk to you or yours. I Swear It.” He seals the sentence with a Pact. Even if Jason didn’t know what that was, he surely felt the weight of those words.
Jason nods slowly. “And if I have questions? This is- this is a fucking lot to drop on a guy.”
Dante nods obligingly and passes his blocky phone over. Jason sends himself a text, nodding when he’s got Dante’s number saved.
“This is fucked. This whole thing is fucking crazy.” He’s muttering under his breath. Is this what an existential crisis looks like on a human? Hmm.
Dante just shifts, debating how to ease Jason's turmoil. He slides the measly gift basket over last second. “This was- I was bringing this for you. To be polite. And as a preemptive apology for intruding on your Haunt.”
Realization comes over Jason’s face. “I- That was what that feeling was?” He shudders, looking up from where he’s reading over the contract. “That shit felt so nasty.”
“The contract would help negate that.” Dante can’t help but say, tone honey sweet.
Jason rolls his eyes, hands clenching into fists. “Give a guy a moment. You roll up, drop the fact you know I’ve died, as well as a bunch of shit I don’t understand, and just expect me to be chill? I’ve had to stop myself from shooting you a good few times already!”
Dante sweats. He thought he was doing pretty well. It all seems pretty cut and dry to him, honestly.
“Sorry.” He says lamely. “What can I explain that would help?”
Jason looks up, sort of incredulous at the question. “Fuckin’- Fuckin’ everything, dude. The hell is a core? And soul madness? Is that the Pits or some shit? I didn’t even know I was half-dead still!” He pauses, frowning. “Actually, start with that. The Hell does that entail?”
“Being a Halfa?”
“Yeah, the halfsies shit.”
Dante calls on the dregs of his patience. He has a feeling he’s going to need it.
---
(“Okay, that’s fucking wild. Fuck.”
“Do you need a moment, Jason?”
“No, no. Just… Just thought I was in the clear when I… came back. Fuck.”
“...I’m sorry.”)
…
(“I guess that makes sense? That’s why everything goes to shit if I don’t- like-”
“You don’t have to disclose your Obsession. I’m not going to. Ghost Cores are also personal.”
“Shit, okay. How do you know what your Core type and Obsession are for sure?”
“Trial and error.”
“Hm. Reassuring.”)
…
(“Yeah, no, that’s the Pits. The Lazarus Pits?”
“The what.”
“It’s like- this is super classified by the way- It’s a big green pool of angry water that can revive mostly dead people. There’s just the side effect of, like, they go totally crazy.”
“Ancients.”
“...So… That might be the soul madness thing.”
“I need a second. Ancients.”)
…
(“Nope, back up. I’m confused. You don’t want to kick me out of my territory, you just…?”
“I just want to have permission to include it in my Haunt. I’m going to make my Haunt all of Gotham, and I really don’t want to leave Crime Alley out of it.”
“And you needed my permission for that? Not against it, don’t get me wrong. I’d rather know than not know.”
“Oh yeah. I could never blatantly go over your head about something like this. You’re so entrenched in Crime Alley it would feel wrong to try and include it without your approval. Like, like stealing.”
“And what do you intend to do in your Haunt?”
“Too broad.”
“Okay, lemme simplify. Are you gonna fuck up Crime Alley? I’ve got a delicate thing running here, and I care about my people. If whatever you do with your haunt targets anything in my territory, hurts anyone-”
“Sit down, Jason. I’m not a threat to you, or yours.”
“Hmm.”
“Anything in my Haunt gets my protection. …I said I wasn't going to tell you my Obsession, but I think it's necessary in this case.”)
…
(“Chaos? I don't want to, like, be an ass- " "
But you're worried what I need to do for that, right? I understand. I have to cause some panic or disarray. It can be done without hurting anyone, and I would only target people that deserved it. Gotham has a lot of villains.”
“So you’re gonna be, like, an antihero?”
“I guess? If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll keep that out of Crime Alley. I'm serious about you keeping Crime Alley yours. I would just have permission to protect it.”
“...”)
---
Jason drags a hand down his face, exhaustion evident.
The burger place closed an hour ago, but Jason has some kind of presence here. He gave the owner a card from his pocket, and whatever was on it made the owner pale and nod before leaving them be.
Dante feels just as tired. His mind also keeps darting back to Bellatrix being home alone, and it's distracting him. Jason seems to be out of questions though.
Dante feels privately thankful. This has been a lot.
“I'll call you if I've got other questions.” Jason says, beginning to roll up the contract, sticking it unceremoniously in his gift basket.
Dante nearly sighs with relief, but he holds it back. “Okay. Alright. So-”
“Not signing it today.” Jason cuts over, turning steel cold eyes on Dante. “I'm not unreasonable, but I am definitely getting this read over by another person. You'll get a response within a week.”
Dante nods, a bit too rapidly. “And, uh-”
“The person can be trusted with sensitive information. I'm not gonna reveal the existence of ghosts to the world.” He says it like it was obvious.
Dante just nods again. “Alright then. We’ll meet again?”
Jason’s icy expression fades, and he grins. “Oh, one hundred percent. I get the feeling we'll see a lot more of each other.”
Dante tilts his head, confused at the tone there. He lets it go though. He can add that to the list of things to dissect later.
“Right. Until next time, Jason.” Dante says, slowly letting himself fade into invisibility.
Jason gives a lazy, distracted salute as he glances down at his phone. When he looks up and Dante is gone, the surge of confusion and shock is enough to fuel Dante the entire way home.
---
The call comes three days later. Dante’s teaching Bellatrix fetch when his phone rings. It's rather undignified when he scrambles up to grab his phone from the counter.
Jason's voice rings through clear. “I'll sign.”
Dante felt the slow spread of a smile across his face. Before he speaks though, Jason interjects again.
“But! I want to add a condition. You teach me more shit about being a Halfa. And whatever you've got on 'Soul Sickness' or whatever the fuck.”
“Done.” Dante doesn’t even have to think. “We’ll schedule fights for the Soul Madness. It’ll be easy enough to have talks after.”
Jason agrees. “As long as we both keep in mind that Crime Alley is more mine than yours. I will not hesitate to hold you to that clause at the end. I get decision making authority and final say on plans happening in Crime Alley.”
Dante hums his own agreement. “You’ll be kept in the loop and get as much notice as possible if I'm heading through your territory.” He reassures. The contract was pretty clear on that. Danny said it’d be an important concession to make, and Dante finds himself understanding.
“I’ll get a new contract drafted. Meet at the burger place tonight?”
“I’ll be on the roof.” Jason says, in lieu of an affirmative. The line goes dead with a click.
Dante almost immediately dials Danny. It doesn’t take long to get things sorted.
“No, I’ll totally be there! It’ll be easier to draft it if I’m with both of you guys. And you need a witness for the contract to be properly binding anyway.” Danny rattles.
Dante’s brow furrows. “You drafted the first one no problem? And a witness? Since when??”
“Yeah, I should’ve mentioned that. It’s alright, I kinda assumed you’d need some corrections.” Danny says with a light laugh.
Dante blinks, then re-adjusts his glasses tiredly again. “Thanks, Danny.” He sighs.
“No problem! It’ll be good to see you again anyway. It’s been so lonely lately with no murder plots.” Danny says, voice pitching dramatically. They should’ve put him in theatre, honestly, with how melodramatic he is.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can cook something up.” Dante replies dryly, causing Danny to laugh again. Dante didn’t think what he said was that funny, but whatever.
When it dies down, Danny asks one last question. “So… Why is he meeting you on the roof and not inside?”
Dante pauses.
He didn’t even question that.
“I… I don’t really know? That is kind of odd, isn’t it?”
Danny starts laughing again.
Does… does Dante need to pay more attention to stuff? Oh Ancients, is he… unobservant??
He drops his phone onto the couch to put his head in his hands and groan.
Danny keeps laughing. Having siblings is Hell.
---
It’s brisk out. Dante sets Bellatrix up with her heated bed before swooping through the walls of the apartment and zipping his way over to Crime Alley.
He passes the border, wrinkles his nose at the ambient malice, and alights on the rooftop. Jason’s already there. Dante fades into view, clearing his throat so as not to startle Jason too much. He still jumps, and Dante hides his smile by looking out over the rooftop, as if he were checking they were alone.
When he meets Jason’s eyes again, they’re more green than blue. His hands clench into fists and then back open, over and over, leather gloves creaking. It’s clear he’s holding himself back from attacking Dante.
Dante refrains from sighing. He really, really expected their last fight to help more than it did, but apparently these ‘Lazarus Pits’ inflict Soul Madness on steroids. Again, though, Dante has to give the guy props. His self control is so off the charts.
It speaks of years of practice, which kind of makes Dante feel ill. He pauses, lingers on the feeling, and identifies it as sympathy and something else. He shakes it off.
It becomes clear that Jason is trying to ignore the rage that Dante mere presence somehow pulls from him.
Maybe Dante should let Jason pretend he’s unaffected, spare his pride, but in good conscience, he can’t. And wow, isn’t that something. Dante has a conscience.
Every muscle in Jason's body is tense, and it looks painful. He seems to want to speak, but can’t really force anything out.
Dante jumps in to save him.
“My contract guy won’t be here for a bit. We have time for a fight if you want?”
Jason bares his teeth like an animal, posture leaning towards desperate. “Please.” He says through a clenched jaw.
Dante slips off his glasses easily, idly noting that he has to do that a lot. Humans who are truly vision impaired and require glasses all the time have it hard.
That’s a side thought, though, that he can’t focus on because Jason’s tackling him to the gravel of the rooftop. Dante will not admit he had the wind knocked out of him.
He pushes his knees into Jason’s stomach, forcing him off enough that Dante has space to grapple him better. Much like last time, they roll and punch and kick. It’s more subdued this time though. No blood drawn so far.
Dante is a bit thankful for it. The long scratch on his cheek from Jason’s nails is still healing, and has drawn some looks. Dante would imagine the wound on Jason’s head is in much the same state.
This is nice though. Calming. Dante’s in the middle of trying to force Jason into a chokehold when there’s shuffling in the corner of his vision. He pauses, looks over, and sees Danny on the rooftop with them, scratching at his neck awkwardly.
He’s not in his ghost form, just like Dante, but in a more casual outfit. Dante is glad he hasn't shown up in full Royal Attire. All those eyes and arms and glowing facsimiles of planets are a little much sometimes.
Dante rolls away Jason, helps him up, and dusts himself off.
Jason shakes himself like a dog clearing water from its ears, stumbling slightly before righting himself. As expected, he looks much better now.
“I don’t mean to interrupt…” Danny starts, drawing Jason’s attention.
Jason blinks, eyeing Dante’s brother and his loose Nasa hoodie, baggy skate pants, and messy hair. “This is your contract guy?” He murmurs lowly.
There’s something in his voice that Dante doesn’t know how to feel about. Something like interest. The constant rage that sits around Jason seems to have calmed slightly, somehow placated by Danny’s energy.
Dante slowly nods while Danny pretends not to hear. “Jason, meet my brother, Danny.” He introduces, carefully watching the situation.
Danny strides over, smiling. “Jason! Dante told me all about you!” He says, winking and holding out his hand for a shake.
Dante narrows his eyes at Danny, cataloguing the skip in his step and sparkle in his eye.
Hmm.
Jason smirks roguishly. “Seems unfair. I know hardly anything about you, Danny.” Jason practically purrs Danny’s name, grabbing his hand and leaning to press a kiss to it rather than shaking it. “But I’d love to know more.” He finishes smoothly.
Dante’s jaw drops.
Danny blushes as Jason pulls back. “O- oh!” He squeaks. “Is that right?” He stumbles. Sickeningly, he looks charmed.
Dante is looking between the two of them, eyes darting back and forth like he's watching a tennis match. What the fuck is happening right now. What the fuck.
Dante is nauseous. This… This Harlot. This wench is- is accosting his brother. Dante has to call off the contract. Crime Alley can go to the dogs for all he cares.
Under the contract, this knave would be under Dante’s protection??
No. No, it cannot be done.
He doesn’t need Crime Alley anyways. He could raze it to the ground in the span of a night. And he thought he might be friends with Jason?? No. Any ideas of being allies has been thrown out the window JUST LIKE DANTE'S RESPECT FOR JASON-
Danny is still bantering with Jason, as if nothing is wrong. Jason, however, must sense a disturbance in the air, because he turns to glance at Dante. He promptly doubletakes and blanches at whatever murderous expression rests on Dante’s face.
Danny also turns to look, surely confused by Jason’s sudden silence. Dante wipes his expression easily before Danny sees, giving Danny a calm smile. All traces of furious, protective rage are cleared so fast, Jason almost looks more afraid than before.
“While I’m glad that you two… get along,” Dante's jaw hurts from how hard he clenches it, “let’s talk contracts, shall we?”
Danny blinks. “Oh yeah! Of course! One ghostly contract, coming right up!” He snaps his fingers and a scroll of paper materializes itself in the air in front of him. He looks it over and nods knowingly.
“Okay…” He murmurs, bringing a hand to his chin. “Yeah, this is all you guys. I have no idea what you agreed on.” He says, waving the contract to float between Jason and Dante.
Dante doesn’t step closer to Jason, so Jason’s forced to approach him to be able to read the contract. The silence is stifling… for Jason, that is. Dante is reveling in the uncomfortable twitch of Jason’s face.
Everything looks right, exactly as they agreed on over the phone. Dante snaps his fingers and his name is signed at the bottom. Jason, being not a fully formed Halfa, is forced to dig through his jacket for a pen to sign the document.
There’s a flash of light, and the contract rolls itself up and pops into Danny’s hands. Danny looks at it and shrugs. “I didn’t expect it to work so easily.” He mutters to himself. The scroll of aged paper is tucked away, and the deal is sealed.
It’s sort of anticlimactic, but Dante is so busy glaring Jason down to care. He wonders if he can project his pure disdain though his eyes alone. It seems to be working.
“Well! That went well!” Danny says, grinning over at Jason. Jason doesn't turn to face him, so he tries again. “Hey, uh, Jason?”
Jason turns away from warily watching Dante to blink at Danny.
Danny fidgets nervously, looking self-conscious. “If you want to- like- hang out sometime… Well, I think that’d be cool.” He stumbles, like the romantic disaster he is.
Jason’s eyes flick, unbidden, back to Dante. Dante gives him a look that hopefully conveys, ‘Don’t crush my baby brother’s heart or I’ll kill you again.’ It also seems to work.
Jason's eyes find Danny's and his entire demeanor softens. It'd be near imperceptible, if you were anyone but Dante. Dante hates that he recognizes it as a sincere expression. Jason genuinely seems to be pulled to Danny.
“I’d love to, Danny. Can I give you my number?”
Ugh. He’s chivalrous. Sickening.
Danny beams like the sun. “Sure!!”
They exchange them, Danny chattering and Jason eyeing him almost adoringly. They’ve only just met!! How in the Hell do they both already seem infatuated?? This has to be some sort of ghost thing.
Dante has to research. He swears to the Ancients if there’s such a thing as ghost soulmates, he’s gonna riot.
He tunes back in to listen to Danny compliment Jason’s skills from his and Dante’s fight. Dante was winning!! What did Jason do that was sooo impressive? Jason puffs out his chest though, claiming it was ‘no big deal’ and ‘he’s pretty strong,’ etcetera.
Oh Ancients, Dante thinks again. They’re both disasters at flirting. Danny’s laughing though, and blushing a bit.
Dante is going to kill Jason, he thinks.
(“Well, I’m excited to see you then, Jason! My town doesn’t have a lot of good fairs.”
“Trust me, doll. The food there is gonna blow you away.” )
Danny, honest to the Ancients, giggles.
Dante could get rid of Jason without breaking a sweat. It would be so easy. Jason wouldn't stand a chance.
("Next weekend?"
"Should be good!!")
They say their goodbyes under Dante's watchful gaze. Danny finally waves, and pops away from view.
Dante waits until he feels Danny’s presence leave Gotham to turn and look down at Jason. He’s grateful at this moment for his slight height advantage. It's easier to intimidate like this.
Jason squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and fully faces Dante.
A slow grin creeps over Dante’s face, wide enough to show off his fangs. “Our fight was cut short, Jason. I find myself… unsatisfied with this.”
Jason audibly swallows. “Oh? Well, I’m afraid I’ve got plans… I can’t be late.” He says with a nervous laugh, backing up towards the edge of the building.
“Are you certain? Surely you’ve got some time. Five to ten minutes should be enough.”
Jason smiles weakly. “No, haha… Uhm. No, I really should be going.”
Dante takes one heavy step forward, and Jason uses some interesting parkour trick to jump the rooftop gap, throwing himself across the skyline. “Sorry Dante!!! Talk later!” He shouts over his shoulder in his gravelly Gothamite accent.
“Coward!" Dante thunders. "You can’t run forever! We’re bound by Contract now!” Dante yells back, cupping his hands in front of his mouth to project his voice over the buildings.
As predicted, he gets no reply.
He does, however, get a sudden influx of texts from Danny. He peers down at the chunky block of his phone and sighs as Danny types text after text asking about Jason.
(“Did he think I was weird?? No, no wait- did he say anything else about me?? You didn’t tell me he was hot!! I showed up in a hoodie, Dante!! I’m not going to live this down!!”)
Dante is beginning to think his headache is just going to be a new feature in his life. The days where he doesn't have one have become more and more infrequent.
Notes:
Jason: "Woah... This Danny guy has such a calming vibe... And he's hella cute too..."
Dante: *Radiating murder vibes extremely hard.*
Jason: "...am i in danger-"...
Dick: "Whatthe-what the frick just happened??"
Duke: "Yeah, what the fuck??"
Dick: *Extremely loud and dramtic gasp*
Dick: "WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT WORD??? YOU'RE TOO YOUNG!!!"
Duke: "..."
Duke: "...I'm almost 17 now?"...
Dick and Duke: *Just watched Jason and Dante beat the everloving shit out of each other.*
Duke: "...Is that the guy yo-"
Dick: "Yes, that's the hot guy I met on patrol."
Duke: "And he's the one yo-"
Dick *looking tired beyond his years*: "YES, that's the one I asked you guys to look after. Stop asking questions, please."
Duke: "Okay, good to know."
Duke *under his breath*: "What is it with Waynes going for the crazy ones???"...
You see a lot of 'Danny's energy calms the Pits' but Dante? Dante incites it. Dante's presence draws it out and adds fuel to the fire. I love this idea so much. Yes, this chap only had a short Cameo with Dick, but there is so much more to come >:) I tried to add some subtle foreshadowing for next chapter, so i hope it comes out how i want!
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