Chapter Text
When Danny defeated Pariah Dark at the ripe age of fourteen (a feat which, in all honesty, was only accomplished due to a little luck and a lot of desperation). he never would have guessed that it would lead to him becoming the crown prince of the Infinite Realms. So, when he was woken up in agonizing pain in the wee hours of a random Monday morning (and right before a midterm, no less!!!!), forced to transform, and then yeeted through a portal that came from his body , one could imagine how unhappy he was by the unexpected turn of events. By the time he’d finally gotten away from the cultists who had summoned him (not a difficult feat, considering the fact that they were fully human) and flown him from freaking Oregon, it was already a few hours past his math midterm. ( That had been fun to explain to Mrs. Curie, a strict older woman who taught calculus and was entirely sick of his BS to begin with.)
After that little mishap, he decided to pay Clockwork a visit. The Ancient was cryptic at best, but if anyone would have answers to what just happened, it was them. It was there that he found out about his title as heir apparent to the throne (an extremely unpleasant surprise because Clockwork??? Forgot to tell him????? Somehow??? Just assumed he knew already. Unfortunately, assuming that everyone must know everything must come with the territory of being omniscient, because Danny can NOT find another reason why something that big would be something he wasn’t told.)
… Yeah. That was a long day.
The thing with becoming Ghost King is that it comes with a LOT of baggage–one of which, apparently, includes random people coming out of the woodwork to summon the so-called God of the Underworld for their own nefarious purposes. It’s… pretty exhausting, to be honest.
Even now, several months after finding out about his new title, it still feels like an impossible concept to wrap his head around. It’s been a steep learning curve–full of twists and turns like a treacherous, winding road with no railings to catch him when he inevitably falls off the edge. Luckily, though, Danny is nothing if not adaptable (even if sometimes, on mornings where he has to go to school after spending half of the night wrangling other ghosts, he finds himself desperately wishing that resilience wasn’t something he had to cultivate).
While the entire situation has been overwhelming at best, though, the summonings are probably one of the more irritating things he’s had to get used to recently. Sometimes it seems like everyone and their Mom knows how to perform the ritual successfully–you’d think that the king of ghosts would be harder to summon, but he supposes he shouldn’t ever assume he would be that lucky. It’s annoying at best and anxiety inducing at worse - makes him feel like he constantly has to be on alert for a summoning, which doesn’t help the way he feels neurotic prey animal adjacent just existing most days.
So yeah. It’s annoying and anxiety inducing and he would complain about it more if it didn’t obviously stress his friends out. Nothing to be done about the situation, so there’s really no point in thinking about it too deeply. It happens, it sucks, and he keeps going – it’s how he’s survived this long, so may as well keep at it!
He's in the middle of eating a delicious Nasty Burger burger and fries combo (with the most delightful freezy cola) at the city park with his friends when it happens again. One moment, he is bouncing his leg restlessly on one of the park benches and counting rings on the table's grain while Sam and Tucker have their regular (it’s habitual at this point, he thinks) omnivore versus vegetarian argument. That's when he feels the – now unfortunately familiar – pull on his core, like someone stuck a fish hook through his solar plexus and decided to yank it.
When Danny explained the feeling to Sam after the first time, he told her that it's kind of like those Gravitron rides at the fair. It’s not quite true, what with the pain, but it’s close enough. Sometime during the transport, he's always forcibly transformed into his alter ego. Really, he's grateful for this fact - it's much better that these weirdos find him in ghost form. Less chance for his human identity to be revealed this way.
Still sucks though.
He lands in a dark room. The only light source in the room aside from the candles placed here and there is the neon green light of the summoning circle and his own ghostly glow.
"Oh Great Lord of the Underworld, allow us to welcome you to this mortal plane," one of the cloaked cultists says, bowing their head in reverence.
Danny holds back a long-suffering sigh. These guys are always the same–if he's going to be forcibly transported to another place at the whim of strangers, it'd honestly be nice to have a bit of variety.
"We have an offering for you. These heroes are quite skilled. Hopefully, their sacrifice will be sufficient payment for your services."
The villain points to two tied up figures, and…
Oh my Ancients, is that who he thinks it is??
It is!!! OMG–Nightwing and–IS THAT RED HOOD?
Danny composes himself.
In another situation, one that isn't potentially life threatening, Danny would allow himself to fanboy. However, this is not that. In fact, it's kind of a big deal that these weirdos managed to capture two incredibly seasoned vigilantes–powers or no. And they expect him to, what? Eat them?
Danny frowns. Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Time to end this.
…
Jason is not having a good day.
Well, generally good days are few and far between for him, what with the… everything. That being said, today has been especially vexing.
First, Jason woke up at four AM from a nightmare. A bad one. This isn't particularly unusual, really, but he's had a string of Difficult Days, so that extra stress has left him feeling jumpy and hypervigilant and even more than usual like he needs to punch something.
And, normally, he'd spend the day on the DL, letting himself try to find some semblance of calm by burying himself in a good book. But he already had plans. Dick is pretty pushy about sibling bonding time, and while he would probably respect that Jason isn't feeling great and leave him alone, showing that kind of vulnerability by admitting that he's not doing well isn't something that Jason feels up to.
(And maybe, secretly, Jason doesn’t really want to be alone today, left to his own thoughts and memories, to the sound of a timer ticking away that never leaves his head and the feelings of his nails against fancy wood, but that's not something that he's going to get into maybe ever.)
Getting coffee with his brother was. Difficult. Even with his coffee shop corner vantage point. And then Dick somehow managed to guilt him into patrolling with the family. How he did it, Jason can't really justify. The man has the kicked puppy act down to a T, though, so that's what he's gonna go with.
So here they are, out on patrol. Jason is trying to keep his distance from everyone but Dick. Things with the family have been. Well, they're all trying, Jason included, so they've been a bit better. Not great by any means, but. Better. If anyone had told Jason a couple of years ago that he'd be having coffee with his brother a few times a month and getting pressured into the occasional family patrol, they probably would've been shot. So this is progress.
Anyways. Family patrol.
It started out fine. Jason kept his distance, only responding when asked for updates. It seemed like a pretty chill night, at least for Gotham. Shortly after, though, everything went to hell. Should have knocked on wood. Now he's here, tied up next to Dick and being offered up as the sacrifice for some kind of ritual. Fucking fantastic.
The chanting stops. Then, the summoning circle begins to glow a vibrant neon green. A strong, cold breeze picks up – the candles nearest to the circle waver before the fire is snuffed out by the wind, leaving only a strange luminescence that reminds him far too much of the Lazarus Pit.
A creature appears in the circle. Grayish-green pigmented skin – it would probably be on the browner side if the creature were human – radiates an unearthly glow. Eyes like gemstones survey the room. When they fall on Jason, it feels, for a moment, like being looked on by a predator. The hair on Jason's neck stands on end as he makes steady eye contact. The most startling aspect of the being, however, is the flaming crown placed upon his head.
It's then when it occurs to Jason that this is not just a powerful being, but rather a god. He isn't quite sure how he knows that, crown aside. But he does. Even tied up, something deep in his core is telling him that he needs to bow.
"Human sacrifices? Really? Not cool, my dudes," the creature says. The words aren't in English, nor spoken with the creature's mouth, but somehow Jason can understand them nonetheless. It sounds like many voices speaking (or rather screaming) at once. Distorted and crackly, like a radio out of tune, leaving a feeling like static electricity on his tongue.
"But my lord, they are for you! An offering as proof of our loyalty to you, King Phantom!"
"King Phantom" crosses his arms.
"Yeah, not interested. I'm not going to help you with whatever evil agenda you have, and I'm certainly not going to accept sacrifices. Who do you think I am? Pariah Dark?"
"Ugh, it's always the same thing with you guys," Phantom continues.
Then he steps out of the summoning circle. The main villain (he didn't even give his name, how amateur is that?), gasps, "But the circle! It should be able to contain the strongest of spirits!"
"Must've drawn it wrong," Phantom says with a disarming (and frankly terrifying, what with the multiple rows of teeth) smile. Then, he lunges.
The villain is knocked out within seconds. The rest are taken care of shortly after, with not a drop of blood spilled nor a fatal blow. Jason recoils a bit when Phantom approaches, despite his seeming lack of malice. That strange feeling is still there, like he needs to defer, and Jason doesn’t like it one bit.
"Ah jeez," the creature says as he slashes at their bindings with far too sharp claws, "I'm so sorry about this. These necromancy types just won't let up."
It's then when Jason is struck by the way the creature says it. The words are surprisingly casual. Everything he's said, in fact, has been startlingly human, considering… all that.
"Thank you, King Phantom." Dickwing finally speaks up, probably in an attempt to be polite to the being that holds their lives in the palm of his hands.
"Oh, hey, it's no problem! This must've been so inconvenient for you… but hey! It's great to meet you guys. Big fan!"
When neither vigilante responds, Phantom fidgets awkwardly, wringing his hands together in a way completely incongruent with the way his very existence invokes terror.
He floats awkwardly before clearing his throat,"Uh, so… it's a long flight home, so I'm just. Gonna head out. Really lovely to meet you guys. Can you get home okay?"
Jason feels tongue-tied. Dick seems to be trying to focus all of his attention on checking the cultist’s pulse to make sure they’re still alive.
"I'm gonna take that as a yes. Alright, peace out!"
And with that, the king of ghosts disappears, almost as if he was never there to begin with.
Jason stares at the spot where he vanished for a few seconds.
"What the fuck."