The Wish
Danny wasn't Desiree, he didn't have the power to fulfill wishes or gain power from it, but he did have subjects. And each of his subjects wanted something different, and since becoming Ghost King he had done his best to fulfill them. Or at least, fulfill the ones that were reasonable.
But there were so many ghosts, many ghosts he didn't know, from all corners of the Infinite Realms, and some had requests that while he could fulfill, maybe it wasn't the best thing for him to do.
The wish he had heard the most was "kill the Joker," Danny didn't know who the Joker was. Maybe a mass murderer taking into account all the angry souls who wanted the same thing. And he would be willing to kill him, but that would be a headache regarding universal balance.
Danny debated how to solve the problem without destroying the delicate balance of the Realms; then he was visited by a soul, a teenager who felt like a ghost but at the same time not (a broken soul? That was rare). The soul had a peculiar request, "let me come back, I will kill the Joker."
Danny frowned, he didn't think creating a halfa with a vengeful obsession was a good idea. But before he could give his verdict, the soul was ripped from his hands.
Danny wanted to deny his request, he wouldn't wish an existence like him on anyone, but if he didn't help that soul might disappear. Such "Lazarus pits" were not infallible, they were rotten, full of contaminated ectoplasm, and Danny knew it (he would have to deal with that later), but he also knew that with a little of his help Jason would survive.
Reluctantly he complied with the teenager's request and Jason returned to the realm of the living. Unbeknownst to Jason he had tied his soul to the King's request (to kill the Joker, not that Jason knew that, or would complain if he ever found out).
Danny, of course, was worried about the boy (halfa?), and decided that if Jason hadn't accomplished his "mission" in about 5 years he would bring him back to the Realms, maybe teach him about everything. He needed to get the kid another obsession anyway.
Bruce never let Jason kill the Joker, and the 5 years went by pretty fast. Danny decided it was time to visit Jason, and maybe take him back.
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———
“See! There it is again! It is going to attack us, we must act immediately!”
Keith wonders how badly it will make everything worse if he feigns a heart attack. He thinks he could be pretty convincing.
“Animals make noises,” Keith says tiredly. “The roars are not getting any closer. How did the previous attacks go? Was there some sort of roar-increase?”
The dignitary hesitates. “Well, no. The first time it happened the beast seemed startled, and then it was angry.”
“Shocking, that,” Lance says, and this time no one fights him.
The longer this debate has been going on, the clearer and clever it has become that Lance was correct.
Before they decided to go after the beast, the team decided it would be best to get as much information from the dignitary, security team, and royal family of the planet as possible. They expected it would take maybe half a varga to go over a couple reports, make a plan, and go after the beast – and hopefully manage to subdue it rather than kill it, to solve the problem on as many fronts and please as many people as possible.
Of course, because the universe finds their endless struggle amusing, it did not go that way. Instead, they’ve been here for the past four vargas at least, trying to get as much information as possible from the scattered reports and eye-witness accounts they could gather, all while half-watching Lance in tense silence (who, to be fair, has mostly stayed in one place and ignored everyone except for making the occasional bitchy comment).
They are getting nowhere.
It turns out the royal family and many community leaders are not nearly as fond as the dignitary and the soldiers of killing the beast. No one can agree on anything, not a plan of attack, not a plan to avoid attack, nothing. Keith has been listening to the same circular arguments ever since he got here, and as the not-black-paladin, he’s expected to contribute, so he has to pay attention. And usually that’s tolerable – it’s not the first time he’s expected to participate in a meeting that has gone on forever and done nothing productive, nor will it be the last – because he’s got Lance next to him, with a running commentary and joke stream that makes the whole thing easier to bear, along with a steady hand on his arm when he gets mad and often even a solution to wrap the whole thing up.
But, obviously, Lance is furious with him and everyone, right now, and is sitting as far away from Keith as he can manage, doodling on his holopad.
It’s miserable.
“I simply feel like there are more options that we should consider,” someone says diplomatically. Since that is literally the ninth time that exact sentence in that exact tone has been said in this meeting, Keith does not get his hopes up. He’s honestly half prepared to die and be buried in this stupid meeting room.
As the room descends into arguing once again, with absolutely zero new conclusions or changes, Keith finally gives up on paying any further attention. There’s nothing he’s missing, there’s nothing he’s contributing, and, he will admit it, doing meetings without Lance on his team is genuinely more than he can handle. He has no idea when he reached this level of codependency – because he can distinctly recall a point in time where doing meetings with Lance so much as in the same room would have them at each other’s throats in seconds – but he is in no place to handle it now. He lets himself drift, staring out the window across the table from him and deliberately thinking of anything except the flash of hurt in Lance’s eyes before it settled into fury, last night during the call.
As he observes the pretty scenery in front of him, rolling hills of yellow grass and an off-blue sky, he notices something strange along the backdrop of a pretty countryside. Along the edge of the far-off forest, there is a dark spot, out of place from its surroundings. He squints his eyes, leaning forward to try and figure out what it is. His posture piques the curiosity of the others at the table, and soon everyone is looking at the spot, watching with growing concern as it seems to get bigger, significantly bigger, and starts even to take shape.
“It has come again,” the dignitary says, hushed. They have genuine fear reflected in their eyes, which softens Keith slightly towards them. Maybe they aren’t just being a stubborn dick.
It takes a second to process, but soon the room descends into chaos, because for all that they have been discussing for hours, no plans have been made. Time is up, though. The beast as come to them, and now they must plan on the fly.
“Ready the guards,” says the queen. “Be vigilant and prepared. I would have appreciated more time, but there is none. We must be prepared to protect ourselves and our people. Last time we managed to scare it off with –”
“Wait!” Pidge shouts, the only one still sitting and facing the window. There is command in her voice, the likes Keith rarely hears from her, and her fingers twitch like they do when she’s calculating something in her head, solving a problem none of them even considered. “Nobody move!”
All the gathered officials in the room stand in tense silence, half watching Pidge and half watching the rapidly approaching beast. As it gets closer, it becomes apparent that it’s not approaching on its own. The beast, which Keith can now see resembles a truly gigantic bear, has a carefully bandaged leg, more than is capable for an animal, and is guided forward but someone sitting on its back, tiny in comparison to its head but visibly determined from even this distance.
“I knew it!” Pidge crows, springing up from her seat and pointing at Lance with manic glee in her eyes. “I fucking knew it! Your posture is way too good!”
Lance stares at her for several moments, eyebrow raised, and then sighs. Keith watches with a dropped jaw as he grows several inches taller, as his hair gets redder and his face gets bushier, until Coran sits in the place where Lance just was.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Shiro mutters, dragging his hand down his face. “I’m going back to the astral plane.”
Coran shrugs. “Lance’s plan simply had more research and direction. Also, I’ve not been out on a mission in too long. I will admit that played a role in my decision.”
“Well, Jesus, Coran, do you think we maybe could have –”
“Hey, guys, not to interrupt, but the giant beast is getting closer, people are aiming fire at it, and my dumbass best friend is currently riding on its back, so,” Hunk says. “Can we maybe worry about that first?”
The seriousness of the situation hits them all pretty quickly, and they adjust their attitudes accordingly. Lance is approaching faster by the second, no longer a shadow in the distance but a distinct figure, waving his hands like a dumbass and either completely oblivious or completely apathetic to the myriad of weapons, poised to fire, pointed in his direction by a horde of soldiers. The team rush outside with the rest of the officials, calling out for people to hold their fire, although it doesn’t do much, and the great beast swerves several times to avoid getting blasted.
“Stop! Stop! Don’t shoot! That’s a paladin!”
“Fire away!” the dignitary shouts over them, fury lighting their features and stubborn set to their jaw. “The insolence of their paladin does not negate the risk the beast poses!”
The paladins and the dignitary, along with several others on their side, glare at each other. The team may not approve of Lance’s methods, and there will be some serious discussion later, but that doesn’t change the fact that their fucking friend is out there being shot at, and they’re not going to stand back and let it happen.
“I swear, if you hurt him –”
“If he wasn’t trying to be hurt he shouldn’t have –”
“Hold on!” Lance shouts, finally close enough to hear. “Everyone – cool it for a sec! Hold on!”
———
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