Chapter Text
Danny woke to the sound of humming.
For a moment, -one singular and blissful moment,- he thought he was home, in Amity Park, and it was the quiet hum of ectoplasm being radiated out of the portal that pulled him awake. Unfortunately, this hum was colder and harsher than the sound of the portal below his home. It was more metallic and steady, reminding him of a machine meant to restrain, like one of his parents many ghost containment devices.
His head pounded like he had just gone a round (or two, or five) with Pariah Dark, and when he attempted to sit upright, his stomach churned violently.
A sharp tug on the cold metal on his neck stopped him.
The collar.
Danny gagged as the collar was tugged back toward the wall, pulsing rhythmically in time to his core, sending a wave of nausea through his body. The cold metal clamped on his neck pulsed once more, a low current which made his core shrink back into his chest and shrivel up like a salted slug. It forced him back down onto the cot he didn’t even realize he was lying on, letting out a low moan of pain. His powers- no, every instinct, each breath - were crushed under its weight. It made him feel terribly, awfully human, a sensation that he hadn’t felt since long before the incident. Yet, somehow it was worse than that, because the collar was not just forcing him into his human form, it was locking his ghost form away from him and suppressing his nonhuman traits- which, as a being powered almost completely by ectoplasm even in human form, was literally torture.
“Phantom. I am glad to see you’re awake.”
The sudden presence of a voice pulled his attention to the glass wall on the far side of the cell, where a figure on the other side stood in blue and red regalia- Superman, cape pulled to the side and stylized ‘S’ emblazoned on his chest. Danny’s stomach dropped again, but for a reason not entirely to do with the collar.
It hadn’t been a dream, after all.
He didn’t remember the entire event- just that there had been a fight. He just had finished patrol, fought a particularly Obsessive Box Ghost, and was heading back to Fenton Works when he had seen brightly-costumed metas appear in Amity Park. Danny had seen the costumes, authority, and weapons at their sides. He hadn’t thought- just assumed that the Guys In White had finally added color to their wardrobes and attacked. He wouldn’t let them drag him away to some underground lab to die, (permanently, this time)- or worse.
He didn’t remember how he had been taken out- maybe a well-placed batarang or magic was involved- but here he was.
Speaking of which, “Where am I?” Danny croaked, voice hoarse. (Had he used his Ghost Wail?) “What is this?”
“A secure Justice League facility,” Superman replied evenly. His expression was calm, but there was a weight in his eyes, firmness that Danny recognized from Jazz’s lectures. “You are wearing an inhibitor collar. It suppresses your powers, keeps everyone safe until we can understand who you are and what you can do.”
Danny fought down a wave of bile in his throat and sat up as much as he was able, chained to the wall. His sharpened nails, which were really more like claws, gripped the edge of the cot tightly. “You- sir, you don’t understand. I thought you were the GIW. They-“ He swallowed back the urge to throw up. “They hurt gh- people like me. Lock us up, run experiments. It- I was acting on survival.”
There was silence on the other end of the glass. Superman’s face softened slightly, face losing the hard way edges, but he didn’t move closer.
From the shadows, another figure stepped forward. Batman, caped drawn tight around his muscular frame and his expression beneath the cowl unreadable. Danny flinched back automatically, instincts screaming danger. (He wished he could go invisible.)
“You attacked without hesitation or provocation,” Batman said, voice rough with gravel. “You incapacitated Green Lantern and nearly took down Flash before Captain Marvel was able to knock you out with lightning.” A full-body flinch this time. That would explain why he was still twitching and his death scars were particularly irritated. Batman, noticing his discomfort, pushed forward again until he was right against the glass. “That is not fear. That’s training.”
Danny’s hand curled into fists, claws poking into his palm. He met Batman’s gaze head-on. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I was trying to survive.”
For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the collar. Danny’s breath was shallow and uneven, and he had to physically stop himself from hurling. His chest ached with his core and the suppressed ectoplasm which was clawing from the inside for release.
Batman’s gaze didn’t waver. “Regardless of your intentions, you are still an unknown meta with dangerous abilities. That makes you a risk.”
Danny’s barked out a laugh, but his voice cracked halfway through and scraped against his sore throat. He was reminded viscerally of Dan, of the destruction that he could (that he did ) cause with the right provocation. “You think I don’t know that?”
The two heroes exchanged a glance, laden with an unsaid conversation. It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t exactly reassuring either. Danny loathed how small and insignificant it made him feel.
Finally, Superman’s voice cut through the tension. “We don’t want to treat you like an enemy,” But we will if we need to, went unsaid, “However, we do need to keep you under observation until we can be sure you are not a threat.”
Danny’s shoulders sagged as he deflated. Observation . Like he was a bug pinned under the glass, open for all to look and goggle at. Just like the GIW. (He shouldn’t have been surprised. He should have listened when Jazz warned him to never meet his heroes.)
He wanted to argue more to shout at Batman that he wasn’t dangerous- not unless he was antagonized- but the collar pulsed again, sapping his strength, and he slumped back against the cot.
Batman turned to Superman, cape whispering against the floor, and Danny sagged more as his piercing gaze was removed. “We’ll need somewhere to monitor him. Somewhere controlled, but less… clinical.”
Superman raised a brow. “You have somewhere in mind.” It was a statement of fact, not a question, but Batman nodded.
“The wards are already in place. And Mr. Wayne has the resources to care for a meta human teenager.” Batman’s gaze flicked back to Danny, unreadable as stone. “He will stay at the Manor.”
Danny’s head jerked up, surprised. “Hold on- what?”
“You will be in League custody.” Then, as if the words needed no explanation, he added, “I have already contacted him, and Bruce Wayne has agreed to foster you, under League supervision.”
Danny blinked at him, confusion swirling with the fog of nausea. He barely registered Superman giving a faint nod to someone outside his view before the glass wall retracted with a slight hiss.
Two guards entered, moving toward him to unclip the collar from the wall. He slumped forward into somebody’s arms, barely managing to whisper through the haze pressing in on his mind.
“Foster…? Bruce Wayne…?”
The words tangled in his throat as the collar pulsed again, dragging him under the surface of consciousness.