Chapter Text
The feeling of a portal opening is near tangible— as tangible as anything from his 6th sense gets, anyways— and gives Danny a rush of panic stronger than he’s felt since his first encounter with Batman. That panic gets chopped in half the second he recognizes that it’s Wulf come to visit him, but only half, because both Nightwing and Robin are staring and he can hear the quiet whine of a grapple behind him too.
(There can’t be bad news from the Realms if Wulf is starting with tag, right? And Danny has been aching for a good low-stakes brawl—)
The Bats seeing a ghostly brawl would be a problem, however, so Danny’s got to say something before they see anything ‘out of character,’ so to speak. As he dives towards the ground, he lets himself fall slow enough that Wulf is almost catching up, close enough that he can whisper and be sure that only Wulf’s excellent ears can hear.
"Neniu Danny aŭ fantomoj en Gotham, mi estas vampiro ĉi tie. Vi estas ĝi!"[1] Danny also lets his ghostly aura expand farther than usual so his friend can properly feel the welcome/glee/playful/secrets/game that he's exuding.
Wulf howls his assent and Danny speeds back up, angling into the building so he can bounce off of it, rebound off the building opposite, and take off west and out of the pincer movement the Bats are no doubt trying to execute. Wulf follows, leaping off the tops of street lights and snapping at Danny's heels playfully.
(Has Wulf been to Gotham before, to hear the city’s unofficial rule about being a dramatic bitch whenever possible? Probably not— it’s just as well ghosts are dramatic by nature too.)
The urge to quip is immense, he's a quippy guy, OK? But he's gotta stay in character: Danny jukes a swipe of claws and hisses, playing as ferocious as Wulf looks to the casual observer. "I was here first, barbarous fiend!"
"Ĉi tio ne estas via urbo,"[2] Wulf growls back theatrically, even as his aura brushes against Danny's in a rush of happy/play along/fun/fight/play. Danny echoes it back, letting his fangs grow bigger and his sharp nails turn into claws.
He can sense Nightwing and Robin (moreso Robin) to the left and Batman to the right, moving to head them off, and uses the post for a No Parking sign to execute a quick 180, slashing Wulf with his claws and flying back east. Wulf takes a second and a half longer to turn, ignoring the few drops of ectoplasm he’d shed. Ghosts like to play rough, after all.
(Danny is so glad that Lady Gotham tends to absorb any spilled ectoplasm, not just for the strength she is owed by those she shelters but because if the Bats or anyone were able to test the “blood” he spilled in that alley, his vampire ruse would have been over literally before it started.)
"Viaj ungegoj estas malakraj,"[3] Wulf teases as he catches back up, his own larger claws nearly shredding one of Danny's sleeves. Shit, not the threads!
"Se vi difektas miajn vestaĵojn, vi aĉetas al mi pliajn!"[4]
—————
Tim is absolutely panicking right now, or at least the experienced vigilante version of panicking where most of the panic is compartmentalized so he can still act/react normally and not get himself killed due to being distracted by the feeling.
He’s halfway across the city, unable to stop B from inflicting his extreme paranoia (and yes, Tim HAS looked in a mirror lately, thank you very much) on a being who seems sincerely benign and liable to disappear if spooked (pun not intended, he’s not Dick after all).
This is because no one bothers to actively keep Tim updated on their cases (since when had they moved into actively trying to capture Dante?) unless they need him for something, although it’s true that B might be content with more low-key observation and interrogation if he knew what Tim knows—if B didn’t discount all the intel because he disapproves of how it was gained. Tim isn’t compromised, thank you very much, and had contingencies in place in case he was somehow hypnotized or made into a thrall despite his preparations.
…And yeah, fine, it’s probably time to share some of his info on Dante with them regardless, he just needs to figure out how to hide his source until he’s proven more definitively that Dante isn’t a threat. The easiest way would be for Than to recommend talking to Red Robin to get the other bats to lay off, but without understanding the extent of Dante’s enhanced senses, that’s a risky proposition.
Tim does feel a touch of guilt for the stress Dante may experience as a result of the other bats besides Babs not knowing everything Tim knows, and resolves to do something nice for Dante later.
“An unknown creature is chasing the target, I’m in pursuit,” Batman says tersely over the coms.
“Copy, we’ll try and head ‘em off,” Nightwing acknowledges.
“Targets heading west on 5th,” Oracle puts in. “I’m sending over a drone to try and track them better without getting too close.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck!!! What the hell (and it very well might be hell-related) has Dante gotten himself into?
“What kind of creature?” Tim asks, dropping down from a rooftop and retrieving his Redcycle so he can get to that part of town more quickly.
“Bipedal lupine in a green jumpsuit, very muscular and with solid green eyes,” Robin reports. “Their approach was unseen from our southern vantage point.”
“From the north too,” Batman adds.
Oracle huffs in frustration. “None of my cameras from the west caught it, either.”
“I’m heading over,” Tim says, although Oracle has doubtless already noticed. He needs to be on hand for this, so he can make sure the Demon Brat doesn’t just stake Dante for what he is instead of who he is. Contingency plans are wise, but for someone who hasn’t done anything but knock over and growl at a mugger who ruined their food supply, they should really treat him as innocent until proven guilty.
(It’s got nothing to do with the way that Dante occasionally texts him pictures of gargoyles with what breed they would be if they were dogs, or fixed his espresso maker at Drake Manor, or how teasing out more information has almost become a game between them. It’s not like Tim has no one else he enjoys talking to; it’s not like Tim has no one else who doesn’t expect all his time, effort, and attention. There’s Cass, and, and— and he doesn’t have time to list everyone, but the point stands.)
The next ten minutes pass all too slowly, listening to the play-by-play of what Nightwing calls a werewolf chasing Dante and the bats chasing both of them, calling out their locations as they swing through Gotham at breakneck speed.
Tim is almost there when Oracle’s ‘eye in the sky’ drone, which has just arrived on scene, catches Dante throwing open a manhole cover and zipping into the sewers with impressive mid-air agility. The werewolf follows him and the two disappear— like really disappear, Batman losing the trail despite being no more than five seconds behind them.
“What do you mean you’ve lost them?” Tim demands into the coms.
“There are no footprints in the muck that match the creature, no signs of splashing, and it’s completely silent down here,” Batman reports, clearly displeased.
Think, Tim, think! “Did they leave any collateral damage so far?” he asks, thinking about the way Dante had bent the metal railing at the club when they’d met. It’s the only sign of advanced strength that Dante has shown as far as Tim has observed— which means that Dante tends to stay completely in control of himself unless overly emotional.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t noticed any, no,” Nightwing says. “They’ve both been avoiding bystanders, too. That’s… not what I would expect.”
“That doesn’t help us find them,” Robin grunts. “Father, have you tried thermal cameras?”
“Hn.”
Tim controls his exhale, forcing his body to calm a bit. If things were truly desperate, if Dante was really afraid for his life, there should be something: bent lamp posts, cracked sidewalk, broken windows. Even seasoned, careful super-powered heroes like Superman cause some damage when fighting seriously, so Tim needs to trust that Dante can handle this.