Part SEVEN of "Clone Danny"
Red Robin, Danny recognizes, steps away from him as he sits up. "My name is Phantom," he signs, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. (From Red Robin's perspective, it looks like he has no eyes. There lacks his signature green glow.) "I'm not a gang member, just an out-of-town vigilante."
Red Robin frowns at him, an uncertain grip on the bō in his other hand. "Phantom?" He repeats, no lacking amount of suspicion in his voice. "How can I believe that?"
Right. Yeah, okay, that's fair. Danny shrugs at him, and slumps against the wall. "Google search?" He gestures, he's been out in the daytime before and he's seen the news articles about him.
Red's eyes narrow at him and Danny simply draws his knees up and faceplants into them, half-listening to Red's murmurs into his comm while also trying to get some extra-shut eye.
("Oracle, can you pull up anything on a vigilante named Phantom? The guy here is claiming to be one." Tim says.
"On it."
"Is this Phantom wearing a white mask?" Bruce asks, his voice gruff like an aftershock. "There's a vigilante who shares the same name, but he resides in Illinois."
"Is this guy from that Amity city you visited ages ago?" Says Tim, before shaking his head. "Don't answer that. Yes, he's wearing some freaky mask. I said it reminded me of Hood's helmet for a reason."
"I've got something," Oracle interrupts, "Bats' right. as usual. The Phantom of Amity Park, not much stuff of this guy but he's only been out for over a year. Apparently, his rogues' gallery consists of ghosts."
"Oh great.")
"Look tell the Batman that I'm sorry for trespassing on his turf," He signs irritably when Red Robin eventually starts talking to (re: interrogating) him again. "It's not like I want to be here."
"How did you get in Gotham anyways?" Red Robin questions, batman was on his way to help deal with the situation but Tim doubted he wouldn't get caught up on the way with dealing with petty crime. "Your turf is nearly a thousand miles away from here."
"Two words." Danny deadpans, "Teleport ghost." (Red Robin winces sympathetically.) "I'm keeping this bastard in the thermos for a month for this alone."
(Danny was ignoring the slow-choking anxiety growing in his lungs over how he was gonna get home. He never takes his phone when he goes out, the risk of breaking it was too high. He had no way of contacting anyone to get him home.)
(He swallows the growing lump in his throat, and buries the feeling in the back of his mind.)
"Thermos?"
Danny unclips his Fenton Phantom Thermos off from his belt loop and shows it to Red Robin. "My ghost-catching device," He says with one hand, tilting it carefully for Red to inspect. "I wish I could say I made it, but its a FentonWorks invention."
(He wasn't sure if it was a smart idea to say who it belonged to, but saying it wasn't his probably loosened up any tracks on him, right?)
"Do you work with these Fentons, then?" Red asks, and something dark and shadowy flickers from the corner of Danny's eye. He glances over, and sees nothing, and his hackles raise.
(Either that was Batman, or a ghost, or Danny's mind playing tricks on him. He couldn't feel his ghost sense building in his throat, so he decided it was either the latter of the former.)
Danny snorts, quiet and gruff. "No." He clips his thermos to his belt again, stifling a smile on his face. "The Fentons hate me actually, I prevent them from catching ghosts themselves. Their son gives me their tech."
He had a cover story, so he might as well stick with it, right?
Batman shows up at that moment, appearing atop the little roof where the door is, and giving Danny a heart attack when he speaks in his low, rumbly voice like thunder rolling in, "Why would they hate you for that?"
Danny shoots up to his feet with a startled yell in his throat, clutching his chest as he whirls around and looks up. He nearly runs into Red Robin, and signs a few choice swears at the Bat.
"wow you're scarier in person, asshole."
"you didn't answer my question."
"Of course I didn't, you scared me." and Danny takes a trembling step back when the Batman jumps down and lands on the roof in front of him. He's faced ghosts before, but somehow the living is always scarier.
"But, um, the reason is a bit.. complicated, I guess." He says, fingers beginning to shake as his adrenaline wears off. God is he tired. He wants to go home. "The Fentons are the local ghost hunters and local crazies. I don't know if I can call them mad scientists because they're harmless to the living."
"But they're extremely anti-ghost. I've heard from their son multiple times the very unethical things they would do to ghosts if they got their hands on one."
Danny 'talks' a little more before calling it quits, even telling Batman that he can't tell him more without putting his identity at risk.
Plus, its getting harder and harder to hide his bone-deep exhaustion and his growing fear of being stranded in the most dangerous city in America with no way home.
"I would love to tell you more, believe me I'm dying to." Danny signs, shaky sarcasm dripping from his fingers. His hands are visibly trembling and he's withholding a slowly growing panic attack. "But I would like nothing more than to figure out a way to get home."
"Do you have no one to contact?"
"Sort of. But only one of them could probably come get me and get me back to Amity by sunrise. And I have no phone."
That one person being Ellie.
=====
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8
Taglist:
@the-navistar-carol
@thought-u-said-dragon-queen
@gin2212
@youracearocroatneighbour
@luckybyrdrobyn
@deeplyconfusedbear
@epilepticnerd
@beautifulmomenttodrawblank
@sara0055
@blusunkhild
@letmesayfuxk (?)
@latheevening226
@tkiesai
@rosedasy
@meira-3919
517 notes
·
View notes
points a mic at you. odile realizing renzo is hiding something from her
Lorenzo’s always been one to hold secrets. (Odile looping AU belongs to @tealgoat ) (& spoilers for like. Act 3 technically? Yeah.)
You’ve known that the entirety of your time in this party. He’s…selective, let’s say, on what information he shares with you all. He hasn’t really shared much about his earlier years.
Like Siffrin, in a way.
Except Siffrin, as you learned with your newfound abilities, doesn’t remember a lot of his life. Lorenzo…seems to keep it barred intentionally. All of his answers to the questions you’ve tried to ask are too vague for anything to be gathered from them.
You remember yourself asking, “Where did your last name come from?” a while ago; far before any of this...looping business.
You watched him think. Think long and hard. Far too hard for something as simple as his shattering last name.
Eventually, he settled on, “My mother. Where else?” and essentially refused to say anything else.
It’s…frustrating. You can’t fully trust him when he’s so uncooperative. You had the same situation with Siffrin, though he ended up proving he could be trusted eventually.
Lorenzo hasn't.
You see movement from the corner of your eye, interrupting your thoughts. Looking up, you see Lorenzo, the one and only, turning over in his sleeping bag.
Right. You nearly forgot you're still in the clocktower. How late is it now? Everyone’s still sleeping, so it can't be...
Everyone's still sleeping.
...
You have an idea. A terrible idea, you feel, but an idea that may ease your suspicions.
You climb out of bed as caefully as possible and creep across the cold floor, down the stairs. They creak, though there's a small chance anyone will hear you. If they do, there won't be any consequences anyway.
You feel sick for thinking like that. But it is true.
Reaching the bottom, you go straight for where you all ate. Lorenzo always leaves his bag here. You see it every loop.
You grab the bag, but freeze there. Going through other peoples belongings was never something you saw yourself doing. Were you really doing the right thing? Even if you suspected him of something, it's a low point to stoop to...
You shake your head and yank the frayed handle up. It doesn't matter. It's for a good reason. You're sure everyone else would understand.
Inside the bag is a pleathora of items. Personal, mostly. A sharpener for his knives, various hair ties scattered by the bottom, hygene products...
A journal. Perfect.
You grab it. Its cover is mostly a dark grey, with silvery raised designs: dots connected with lines, comletely nonsensical to you. It's held together with a worn, leather buckle. The text on the front is illegible. Trying to make sense of it hurts your head.
Carefully, you undo the buckle and open the book.
...
...
Oh.
The entire thing is written in the same manner as the front. You can't make heads or tails of any of it. It all hurts your head in the same way the title did. You only recognize faint bits of Vaugardian placed between the pages. Most of the legible text is assortments of letters, like those learning sheets little kids get in school.
One part sticks out to you, though. It's incredibly messy, almost chicken scratch, but you can read it well enough.
"My name is:Lorenzo Silvana Halloran
My dad's name is: Peadar Halloran
I am 10."
Your breath catches. That's his name. And his...father's? He said he didn't have a father. Only a mother.
You hear the floor creak and slam the book shut, returning it to its original place. Someone must be awake. No more snooping.
This only confirmed your suspicions, though. He's hiding something. He's hiding something, and you're more determined than ever to figure out what it is.
You have all the time in the world, now, after all.
19 notes
·
View notes
guilty of your innocence– mp100
“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Ms. Serizawa!”
The man on her doorstep was holding out a very sweaty hand. When she took it, she was treated to the clammiest handshake she had ever experienced.
Her boy– lovely, sweet, naive Katsuya– was smiling at her, eyes wide and imploring. Despite the grin pulling at his lips, his hands were shaking where they were clasped in front of his chest. Poor Katsuya looked like he was on the brink of collapse. The nervous tilt of his eyebrows were screaming at her to accept the man.
She didn’t know whether to spare his feelings or tell the truth.
Katsuya had called her earlier in the day, asking if she was free for a visit after work. For her son, she would always be free, she told him– but she accepted anyway. Despite their previously strained relationship, Katsuya was one of her favourite people. She loved when he swung by her residential area, coming for lunch or dinner whenever he made time in his busy schedule.
He told her he had a surprise for her– someone he wanted her to meet. She was ecstatic, of course; still overwhelmingly proud of her son for getting out into the world. And now, he was meeting people and making friends! She baked snacks with vigour, fueled by the need to impress whoever their guest would be.
Now she wished she hadn’t broken her back over those little cakes.
The man Katsuya presented her with was incredibly underwhelming– if not downright concerning. He spoke with a certain degree of smarminess, like he was trying to sell her something. His smile glinted– sharp and intelligent, but much too disarming. The man’s arms pinwheeled around as he spoke at a mile a minute; the lack of self-awareness was another red-flag raised with the others. Adding to his persona, the man’s hair was an unnatural shade of blond, the colour of box bleach done in the middle of the night in a cramped bathroom. On his strung-out frame, he wore an oversized– yet puzzlingly too-small– suit. It crinkled, thin fabric bunching up around his waist and shoulders. The pant legs didn’t quite reach his ankles, revealing unprofessional magenta socks. He was trying to distract her with his big, showy smiles and empty niceties– and she was already suspicious.
With narrowed eyes, she sized him up. She instilled as much distrust into her glare as her 5’3” stature could manage. Judging by the beads of sweat gathering under his bangs, the man was rightfully intimidated.
Katsuya led them into the house, passing by his mother to plant the man in her living room. He left him alone with a squeeze of his shoulder. The man looked like he was trying desperately to not throw up on her carpet. He smiled around his clear nausea– she wanted to laugh at the way his face was nearly green, like a cartoon character, but alarms were going off in her ears. She didn't like this disingenuous man who had swept up her Katsuya at all.
As Katsuya puttered around the kitchen, collecting mugs and tea bags as he set water boiling in the kettle with his powers, she sat on the armchair opposite the man, cornering him.
She levelled him with another icy look, crossing her arms. The man straightened, steeling himself like he was getting ready for an argument.
"Who are you?" She asked bluntly. He barely faltered, crossing his legs and leaning in. He still had that sickly-sweet customer service smile plastered on his face.
"Reigen Arataka," he stopped, like he was about to continue that sentence, but decided against it at the last minute. Pink dusted his cheeks and he cleared his throat, "I'm Katsuya's… business partner. It's nice to meet you Ms…?" He reiterated. She didn't return the sentiment.
She hummed, brushing him off, "And how do you know my son?"
Clanging sounded from the kitchen, causing her to startle– Katsuya must have dropped something. Concern flashed across Reigen's face as he peered into the kitchen, eyebrows drawn in a look that conveyed worry where she expected fear. It had been a long time since the sound of something hitting the floor in her home was cause for light concern instead of anxiety. Reigen relaxed when a bright "I'm okay!" floated in from the kitchen.
"Well, that's actually a funny story," he started, uncrossing and crossing his legs again the opposite way. It was like he couldn't stop moving, "Katsuya and I actually met at his old uh– 'job'."
Her heart stopped beating.
The last time a man in a suit with a fake smile and hollow words took her Katsuya, she lost him for three years. To hear that they met through the abusive man her son had just barely escaped from was a punch to the gut.
Already, Reigen was trying to explain himself. His hands flailed around like restless hummingbirds and if she hadn't been lost in her own fear and anger, she would want to bat them away.
"Not- I mean, it was after his old boss was arrested and- and I am not part of Claw or anything like that-!" He swiped a sweaty hand across his sweaty face, laughing shrilly, "You see, my kids– well, they're not really my kids but- but anyways!"
Was Katsuya in a bad place again?
It seemed like he was getting better– he had his own apartment that he paid for with his own money. She thought he had a real job, since he earned a consistent wage and spoke highly of his new boss– even quite affectionately at times. Katsuya went to school, he had friends; he was finally experiencing the world in a way she never thought possible. Nothing like the closed off, frightened boy she had known his whole life.
But, had he just been passed from one controlling force to another? Did she fail to see her son was struggling again?
Katsuya returned from the kitchen. His bubbly presence cut off Reigen's flustered ramblings, attention drawn solely to him. In his hands, Katsuya carried two steaming mugs of tea; behind him, a third cup bobbed lazily in the air, suspended in a shimmering cloud of magenta and black. She tried not to stare at the obvious and carefree display of psychic powers– but after so many years of it being just a depressing background hum in her home, it was still surprising to see it expressed so openly.
He handed them each a mug, sitting next to Reigen and letting his own settle gracefully into his cupped hands.
"Watch out, it's still hot," he murmured, earning an unimpressed pout from Reigen. Katsuya giggled into his tea and she nearly choked on her own– it had to have been years since she heard him sound so happy.
"So, what were you guys talking about?" Katsuya asked innocently. Reigen winced, turning away and rubbing the back of his neck.
"Just- ah… how we met." He confessed sullenly. In the tense silence, Reigen sipped his tea at an obnoxious volume. He set it down seconds later with a yelp.
Katsuya pursed his lips, carefully avoiding eye contact with his mother.
"Oh."
She cut in with a stern tone, "Katsuya," worry settled just under her words, "I thought you were done with that whole organisation. Are you…" She cleared her throat, but her voice still came out as nothing more than a whisper, "Do you need help, sweetheart?"
Her son looked absolutely stricken.
"Wh- Mama, what do you mean? Of course I'm not part of Claw anymore. I told you, they disbanded," his hands hugged his cup tighter as they started trembling, "A-and… um, I like where I am now."
His free hand wrapped around Reigen's arm, wrinkling the cheap fabric. A blotchy red blush spread across Reigen's entire face– just the sight of it gave her second hand embarrassment. Then her son's words caught up with her.
This is the man her son chose? This annoying, two-faced, car-salesman-esque man? A man who had power over him as his boss– and wasn't that just like his old 'employer'? Wasn't Suzuki just another person with too much control over her Katsuya– her poor son who would flock to anyone who could point him in the direction of normalcy–
Beeping filled the air; her cakes were done in the oven.
She set her mug down harshly. Tea splashed over the edges, staining her nearly spotless coffee table.
Ms. Serizawa stomped into her kitchen, breathing angrily through the tightness in her chest. Her heart spasmed with each intake, sending her head spinning. She propped herself up against the counter.
She balled her fists at her sides; her shoulders hunched as she squeezed her eyes shut. The tightness in her chest spread to her throat.
She failed again. Katsuya was going to be taken away from her again and it would be her fault for not noticing again. What was wrong with her? How could she be such a horrible mother? Was she just that negligent that he felt like he couldn't come to her for help? Was she not reaching out enough? It had to be her– there had to be a reason that her Katsuya kept falling into the hands of so many controlling men– it was a clear pattern and all signs pointed to her failure as a parent.
Soft footsteps shuffled up to her. He held his breath in anticipation, but didn't try to start the conversation.
"Why?" She mumbled, voice strangled. Katsuya sighed, shuffling closer to her side. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him lift his arm– as if he was going to snake it around her shoulders– and then let it drop as he averted his eyes.
"Is it me?" She asked, again with no explanation, "Am I a bad mother, Katsuya?"
He startled, looking up from his feet to stare at her in disbelief.
"What? Why would you say that, of course you're- what makes you think that?" He stumbled over his words but she could see the genuine worry on his face. She could have laughed at how relieved that made her. Katsuya believed in everyone in his life, despite the ways he had been burned by that same trust. Whether anyone actually deserved that earnest support, though, was something she often doubted.
The green number on the digital display of her oven flashed '0:00' over and over. Every few seconds, it let out a piercing shriek, reminding her that her cakes would be ruined soon if she didn't do something about it. She didn't move turn the oven off.
"I let all of this happen to you and now look!" He tensed, "You're being taken advantage of again-"
"I am not being taken advantage of." The low rumble of his voice made her finally look up at him. Her son's face was set into a disillusioned scowl; eyebrows set low and mouth puckered into a frown.
Some part of her– buried deep down since her son left for Claw– wanted to hide from that angry face. Anger meant powers and powers always meant bad things in her home.
She could never be afraid of her lovely Katsuya, but psychic powers? Her stomach roiled for the first time in a while.
Slowly, his face smoothed back into worry. A wry smile pulled at his lips.
"I'm not as naive as you think I am," he chuckled without any humour, gaze fixed on his hands as he picked at his thumbnail, "Is that what you're worried about?"
She couldn't bring herself answer him. Shame flooded her stomach.
"Reigen is nothing like Suzuki," he continued resolutely. Fondness creased his eyes, "He's helped me become someone I can be proud of. I'm grateful for all of the opportunities he's given me, but…"
Katsuya looked up at her, face sharp with determination.
"But, I'm also helping myself. Reigen is different because– well, because he makes me feel different," she wanted to argue with him, but he steamrolled over her in a way she never would have expected, "I have my own life– I set boundaries and have friends outside of the office. Suzuki…" Katsuya blinked rapidly, face darkening again, "He didn't want me going to school or-or seeing you like I do now. He didn't want me to know anything except what he told me."
"I like when Reigen's proud of me," he admitted, hand finding a perch on his neck as he smiled abashedly, "But I don't need his approval like I needed Suzuki's. I don't need him to make me feel… uhm– feel like I'm worth something."
He stared down at her, eyes glittering with untapped emotion. Hope danced between the gentle tilt of his eyebrows and pooled in the upturned corners of his mouth. All she could do was nod her head in acknowledgement.
He spoke softer now, pressing a light hand on her back, "I can take care of myself now. You don't have to worry so much about me, Mama."
"Yes I do!" She choked out, tears springing to her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back consolingly.
"Trust me? Please?" He asked, meeker than his grandiose speech, but just as earnest. She shook her head.
"I don't know how to do that…" She admitted into his shoulder, speaking so softly she couldn't be sure he heard her. She didn't know if she wanted him to.
He pulled away and her heart twisted.
"Why not start now?" Another voice joined from the doorway. Reigen waved at her ruefully. Quickly, she dried her damp cheeks on a tea towel.
Katsuya huffed out a content laugh, shaking his head at Reigen's incredibly well-timed (and definitely calculated) entrance. She joined in, a little hysterically, after a while. She shook with the weight of her tumultuous emotions, anchoring herself with a hand on Katsuya's shoulder.
The oven timer beeped again and she jumped out of her skin.
"My cakes!" She shouted, horror wiping away all traces of the sorrow that had made its home in the creases of her face.
Armed with a pair of oven mitts and two men trying to mask their mirth with sympathy, she fished out the mini cakes she spent all afternoon baking.
They were blackened with char.
She ran a hand through her hair, tossing them out swiftly before her guest could get a good look at them. Katsuya rubbed her shoulder, still chucking a little under his breath.
"It's okay, Mama, don't worry about it." He smiled reassuringly.
"Thank you, honey, it's just… I don't have anything else to give you two other than tea."
"Oh!" Reigen dashed out of the room, rustling around the front hall. He came back with a sheepish smile on his face, brandishing a plate of cookies to her.
"They're not perfect, but I wanted to make something for you– and y'know, Teru really needed help with this baking assignment so I thought, why not, right? You don't have to take them, obviously, I made them at like midnight yesterday– and they probably have all kinds of grubby kid germs since Teru couldn't stop tasting the frosting no matter how many times I–"
"God, does this one ever shut up? Give those here." She swiped at her eyes subtly, taking the plate from a dumbstruck Reigen.
Katsuya laughed the hardest she had ever heard him.
84 notes
·
View notes