Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny Fenton leaned against the register at The Fun Zone, his eyes half-lidded with the bored expression of someone who had already been on shift for far too long. The arcade’s lights flickered with their usual neon brilliance, and the sound of pinball machines, whirring go-karts, and kids screaming in the indoor playground provided a steady background cacophony. It was chaos incarnate, but Danny didn’t mind. The job paid surprisingly well for a Gotham gig, and it let him afford textbooks and a halfway decent apartment.

That, of course, didn’t make up for the downsides—namely, the fact that the place was a gang front. Danny had figured it out about two days in. The suspicious packages delivered after hours, the shady clientele that frequented the private lounge, and the way his manager, “Big Sal,” always seemed to have armed goons lurking nearby. None of it really phased him. As long as he kept his head down, he didn’t see any reason to care.

But apparently, the local vigilantes did.

“Hey, kid,” a gravelly voice startled Danny out of his stupor. He looked up to see the Red Hood himself looming over the counter, his arsenal on full display. Guns, knives, and explosives hung from his tactical gear, his crimson helmet reflecting the pulsing lights of the arcade.

Danny blinked. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Can I get you a family pack for laser tag, or are you just here to threaten the boss?”

Red Hood’s head tilted slightly, his helmet hiding what Danny assumed was either a glare or the equivalent of a facepalm. “You know this place is run by a gang, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny deadpanned. “And they pay me twenty bucks an hour plus tips. Do you want to buy tokens or not?”

Hood seemed taken aback, the air of intimidation slipping just a little. “Do you even care that they’re criminals?”

“As long as they don’t ask me to do crime, I’m good. Rent’s expensive, man.”

Before Hood could respond, the double doors to the bowling alley burst open, and in stormed Big Sal, flanked by his usual goons. Sal was a mountain of a man, with slicked-back hair and a perpetual sneer that seemed permanently etched into his face. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Hood.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Red Hood,” Sal growled. “You’ve been poking around my turf for weeks. You think you can just walk in here?”

Hood drew a pistol in response. “I don’t think. I act.”

The goons raised their weapons, and Sal barked out orders, but before the situation could escalate further, Danny loudly cleared his throat.

“Hey!” he said, waving a hand lazily. “Can you guys not do this in front of the register? I just mopped over here.”

Both Sal and Hood turned to stare at him.

“What?” Danny shrugged. “If there’s going to be a shootout, at least take it to the parking lot. I’m not cleaning up blood.”

Hood’s shoulders shook with what might have been a laugh, though his voice remained gruff. “You’re way too calm about this.”

“First week on the job, I had to break up a fight between two dads who got into a brawl over mini-golf,” Danny replied flatly. “This? This is Tuesday.”

Hood replied “You’re a weird kid, you know that?”

“Thanks,” Danny said. “So, if you take over this place, do I still get to keep my job?”

Sal sputtered indignantly. “You little—”

“You shut up,” Hood snapped, leveling a finger at the gang boss before turning back to Danny. “If I take over, yeah, you can keep your job. Might even give you a raise for putting up with this crap.”

“Cool,” Danny said, as though he hadn’t just witnessed a life-or-death standoff. “Want a soda while you’re here? Employee discount means I can get it for like, fifty cents.”

Hood stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m starting to think you’re the most dangerous person here.”

Danny smirked. “Nah, I’m just good at customer service.”

As Hood turned back to deal with Sal, Danny leaned against the counter again, sipping a soda he’d poured for himself. 

The standoff between Red Hood and Big Sal continued, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Danny, however, remained entirely unfazed, sipping his soda and watching the drama unfold as if it were a reality TV show. His coworkers, who had been hiding behind various attractions, occasionally peeked out to catch glimpses of the action. None of them seemed inclined to intervene. Not that Danny blamed them—this was well above their pay grade.

Big Sal, realizing that Red Hood wasn’t going to back down, snarled and gestured to his goons. “You think you can just walk in here and take what’s mine? This is my turf, Hood!”

Hood’s voice was calm but laced with menace. “Not anymore, it’s not. You’ve been running weapons and drugs through this place for months. The Fun Zone’s under new management now. So, unless you want to end up in Arkham—or worse—you’ll walk out of here while you still can.”

Sal bared his teeth, but before he could respond, one of his goons hesitated and took a step back. “Uh, boss? Maybe we should listen. It’s… it’s Red Hood.”

Sal shot the man a glare that could curdle milk. “Coward.”

Hood tilted his head toward the exit. “Smart guy. He should take you with him.”

The goon glanced nervously at Sal, then at Hood, and bolted toward the doors. A few others followed, their loyalty clearly not strong enough to stick around for what was about to happen.

Danny watched the exodus with mild amusement. “Wow, Sal. You really inspire loyalty, huh?”

“Shut up, kid!” Sal barked, his face red with anger. “You’re on thin ice.”

Danny raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying. If I were you, I’d consider an employee morale retreat or something.”

Hood let out a low chuckle, his guns still trained on Sal. “You’ve got guts, kid. I’ll give you that.”

Danny replied with a shrug. “So, what’s the plan here, Hood? Are you shutting this place down, or do I need to update my résumé?”

Hood’s answer was interrupted by a sudden crash from the go-kart track. Everyone turned to see a group of kids who had somehow bypassed the barricades and were now gleefully racing around, oblivious to the standoff happening mere feet away.

“Seriously?” Hood muttered, lowering his weapons slightly. “This place is chaos.”

“Welcome to The Fun Zone,” Danny said with a wry smile. “Where the games never stop, even during a hostile takeover.”

Hood let out a heavy sigh, clearly debating whether this was worth his time. Finally, he holstered his weapons and gestured for Sal to leave. “You’ve got 24 hours to pack up and get out. If I see you here after that, you won’t be walking out.”

Sal opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. He stormed out, slamming the doors behind him, leaving Hood, Danny, and a scattering of terrified employees behind.

Hood turned back to Danny. “You still want to work here?”

Danny shrugged. “Depends. You hiring?”

Hood stared at him for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve got nerve, kid. Fine. You’re hired—you get a fat raise and fewer shady dealings. Just… try not to question too much about what happens in the backroom.”

“Cool,” Danny said, finishing his soda. “Do I get a new uniform, or do I keep the one with the mustard stains?”

Hood sighed again, rubbing his temples. “I’m already regretting this.”

Danny grinned. “Welcome to management, boss.”

Chapter Text

Danny adjusted his uniform—a slightly altered version of his old one, now featuring a sleek crimson “RH” embroidered on the chest where the mustard stain used to be. Red Hood’s idea of branding, apparently. Hood had taken to lurking in the old gang office-turned-“management headquarters,” leaving Danny to run the front while vigilantes and goons occasionally dropped by, turning his shifts into Gotham’s weirdest soap opera.

The Fun Zone hadn’t changed much, except now the shady packages were replaced with less shady ones (“Hood-approved” mystery shipments), and Danny had to deal with more vigilantes stopping by to “check on operations.”

Today was no exception.

Danny was wiping down the counter when the door chimed, and none other than Nightwing strolled in, his domino mask firmly in place. He looked entirely too chipper for someone walking into a decrepit arcade that still reeked faintly of stale popcorn.

“Hey there!” Nightwing said, leaning against the counter. “Just here to make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

Danny didn’t bother looking up. “If you’re not here to play laser tag or bowl a few frames, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Nightwing’s grin widened. “Red Hood owns this place now, doesn’t he?”

“Yep. And I’m his underpaid lackey. You wanna order something, or are you just here to be nosy?”

Nightwing hummed thoughtfully. “How’s the, uh… ‘morale’ under the new management?”

Danny smirked. “Well, we don’t have to stash questionable shipments under the ball pit anymore, so that’s a plus. But Hood keeps leaving his knives in the breakroom, which is honestly a little unsettling.”

“I heard that!” Hood’s voice echoed from the office. A second later, the man himself emerged, fully armed, looking just as annoyed as ever. “Why are you here Dickhead?”

Nightwing raised his hands innocently. “Relax, just making sure you’re not turning this place into a different kind of front.”

“Everything’s fine,” Hood snapped, crossing his arms. “Go away.”

Nightwing glanced at Danny. “You sure? You don’t look like the happiest employee.”

Danny shrugged. “It’s fine. I just wish Hood would stop using the claw machine as target practice.”

Hood growled. “The claw machine is rigged!”

“It’s supposed to be rigged! That’s the point of claw machines!” Danny shot back.

Nightwing snorted. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

“Get out,” Hood growled, pulling a knife—not to throw, just to intimidate, apparently. Nightwing didn’t even flinch.

“All right, all right,” Nightwing said, backing toward the door with a grin. “But if I hear about any suspicious activity, I’ll be back.”

The door chimed as he left, and Hood turned to Danny. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Nope,” Danny replied cheerfully. “It’s part of my charm.”

Hood muttered something about “hiring a quieter cashier” before stomping back into the office, leaving Danny to man the register once more.

An hour later, the Fun Zone was bustling. A birthday party had taken over the bowling alley, and the mini-golf course was a madhouse. Danny was balancing a tray of nachos when he noticed a kid trying to climb the prize wall.

“Hey, kid!” Danny called. “You’re not Spider-Man; get down!”

The kid ignored him, reaching for a stuffed octopus just out of reach. Danny groaned, setting the tray down, but before he could intervene, a familiar figure swooped in—literally. Red Hood vaulted over the counter, grabbed the kid by the back of their shirt, and set them back on the ground like a wayward puppy.

“No climbing,” Hood said, his tone stern.

The kid’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, are you Batman?!”

Danny couldn’t suppress his snort of laughter. Hood turned to glare at him, but the damage was done.

“Nah, kid,” Danny said, grinning. “He’s more like Batman’s grumpy cousin.”

“Go play mini-golf,” Hood muttered, and the kid scampered off, still starstruck.

Danny leaned on the counter, smirking. “You’re really embracing the ‘fun boss’ vibe, huh?”

Hood sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother with you?”

“Because I’m the only employee who hasn’t quit,” Danny replied. “Plus, you secretly like me.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Sure, boss.”

Hood muttered something under his breath and stalked back to his office, leaving Danny to deal with the chaos once more.

The rest of the shift passed in relative peace, if you ignored the kid who tried to hotwire a go-kart and the group of teens who smuggled energy drinks into the laser tag arena.

Chapter Text

It was another day at The Fun Zone, and Danny was manning the counter like always, half-heartedly sorting through a stack of tokens while sipping on an overly sweet slushy. Business was steady enough to keep him on his feet, but not so busy that he couldn’t hear the unmistakable chime of the front door opening.

Danny didn’t look up right away. “Welcome to The Fun Zone,” he called out in his default bored tone. “Mini-golf is on special today. Please don’t fight over the clown hole.”

“Actually, I’m more interested in laser tag,” came a voice that was far too chipper for Gotham. Danny glanced up to see a young man with a camera slung around his neck and a backpack that looked too functional to just carry snacks. His black hair stuck out at odd angles, and his smile radiated the kind of curiosity that immediately put Danny on edge.

“Sure thing,” Danny said cautiously, taking in the guy’s face. He wasn’t exactly memorable, but he had the same intense energy as a kid trying to win all the prizes at once. “Laser tag’s fifteen bucks for unlimited rounds. You here alone?”

“Yup.” The guy smiled wider. “I like to… scout out fun places for my blog. Gotham doesn’t have many safe places for kids, you know?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “A blog? About arcades?”

“And family fun centers,” the guy corrected, his voice practically oozing innocence. “Places like this are important. Keeps kids off the streets, you know?”

Danny wasn’t buying it for a second. No one with that much pep belonged in Gotham. “Cool. Name?”

“Uh…” The guy hesitated.

"It's for the ticket." Danny replied

“Tim.” The boy smiled sheepishly

“Tim,” Danny repeated, staring at him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay, Tim. Here’s your gear.”

Danny handed over a laser tag vest and a blaster, noting the subtle tension in Tim’s posture, like he was expecting something to jump out at him. “Laser tag arena’s through the back. Don’t break anything.”

Tim nodded and wandered off, though not without a suspicious glance at the prize counter as if he were cataloging the stuffed animals for some secret database. Danny watched him go, his unease growing.

About ten minutes later, the chime of the office door opening caught Danny’s attention. Red Hood poked his head out “Hey, where’s that slush—”

Hood stopped mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes toward the laser tag entrance. “God damnit-Stay here. Don’t let him leave until I get back.”

“Uh, sure, boss,” Danny said, watching as Hood stalked off toward the laser tag arena like a man on a mission.

Fifteen minutes later, Danny was back at the counter when Tim returned, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unbothered. He placed the laser tag gear on the counter and smiled. “That was fun. You’ve got a good setup here.”

Danny crossed his arms. “You meet my boss in there?”

Tim’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, you mean the guy who thinks laser tag is a viable interrogation method? Yeah, we had a nice chat.”

“Sure you did,” Danny said dryly, grabbing a disinfectant wipe to clean the gear. “So, what’s the deal? You guys just take turns harassing me, or is this some kind of weird Gotham hazing ritual?”

Tim tilted his head, genuinely curious. “You seem pretty unfazed by all this. Not many people can handle Red Hood breathing down their neck without sweating.”

Danny smirked. “I’ve had worse bosses.”

“Fair enough,” Tim said, pulling a notepad out of his pocket and jotting something down. “By the way, do you guys host birthday parties?”

“Yeah, but it’s mostly chaos and kids screaming for tokens,” Danny replied. “Not sure it’s blog-worthy.”

Tim grinned, slipping the notepad back into his pocket. “Oh, I think this place is definitely worth writing about.”

As Tim walked out the door, Danny sighed, already bracing himself for whatever nonsense tomorrow would bring. Hood emerged from the laser tag arena a moment later, looking equal parts annoyed and suspicious.

“He leave?” Hood asked.

“Yup,” Danny replied. “Said he’s writing about us.”

“Great,” Hood muttered. “Now we’re gonna end up on Bat's watchlist.”

Danny couldn’t suppress his grin. “We weren’t already?”

Hood shot him a glare. “Shut up and mop the arcade.”

Danny gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain Hood.”

Chapter Text

Danny had seen some chaotic birthday parties in his time at The Fun Zone, but this one took the cake—and he wasn’t even exaggerating. The group that had just walked in seemed like a random collection of mismatched personalities: a cocky black haired guy, a towering dad-type who was trying way too hard to be casual, a snarky girl in a leather jacket, a small scowling kid who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and—oh no, it was Tim again.

Danny adjusted his uniform and sighed, plastering on his best customer service smile. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Are you here for laser tag, mini-golf, or just to add to my growing migraine?”

A man with stark black hair stepped forward, grinning like he owned the place. “We’re here for a birthday party!”

Danny blinked. “You booked it in advance, right?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the guy said, brushing off the question with a wave. “It’s all taken care of.”

The scowling kid, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, crossed his arms. “Grayson, this is beneath me. I don’t need a childish party.”

“Oh, come on, Dami,” the guy—apparently named Grayson—said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “You’re going to love it. Laser tag, mini-golf, go-karts—it’s got everything!”

Damian swatted his hand away with a growl. “I said, stop calling me that.”

The girl in the leather jacket smirked. “Yeah, but the kid here’s turning twelve. We’re here to make sure he has the time of his life, whether he likes it or not.”

Danny gave her a skeptical look. “You sure he doesn’t prefer, like, a book club or chess tournament? He looks like he’d rather set this place on fire than play mini-golf.”

“I would,” Damian said flatly.

“Don’t listen to him,” Dick said, leaning on the counter. “We’re doing this. Can you, uh, set us up with the works?”

Danny sighed, grabbing a clipboard. “Fine. I’ll need the birthday kid’s name. And don’t tell me it’s Grumpy McFrownsalot.”

Dick laughed. “It’s Damian.”

Danny jotted the name down and handed him a stack of wristbands. “Great. Have fun, don’t break anything, and if you end up in a go-kart race, try not to ram into each other. You break it, you buy it.”

Dick beamed. “Thanks, man.”

An hour in, Danny regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.

Damian, the birthday kid, was terrifying. He played laser tag like he was training for actual war, and he refused to use the pre-loaded names on the scoreboard, insisting his codename be changed to Death’s Shadow. He also managed to hack into the system to change everyone else’s names to things like Grayson the Fool and Drake the Useless.

The girl—Steph, he’d heard someone call her—was running commentary on everything, laughing every time Damian destroyed someone in laser tag. “Dami’s ruthless! Look at that kill count!”

Tim, predictably, was trying to strategize, calling out team plays like this was some kind of black-ops mission. “Jason, cover the left flank! Dick, stop running in circles!”

Danny’s ears perked up at that. “Wait. Jason?” he muttered to himself, glancing over toward the go-karts.

Sure enough, Red Hood—his boss—was standing next to the track in civilian clothes, looking like he wanted to commit murder. He’d been dragged along under protest, and now he was stuck watching Dick and Tim throw Damian a party in what was technically his turf.

Danny sidled over, slapping on a grin. “Hey, boss. Didn’t know you did birthday parties.”

Jason scowled. “Don’t start with me, Fenton.”

Danny chuckled. “I mean, it’s kind of adorable. You’ve got the whole supportive older brother vibe going on.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his temples. “They’re doing this to piss me off. Dick knows this is my place.”

“Your boss’s place,” Danny corrected. To try to keep Hood's true identity safe from his supposed siblings? friends? Hell if Danny knows at this point. “And hey, the kid seems to be having fun. That’s worth something, right?”

They both glanced over to see Damian obliterating another group of kids in mini-golf, his precision terrifyingly perfect. Dick was cheering him on, and Steph was doubled over laughing at the chaos.

Jason sighed. “This is hell.”

By the end of the party, the Fun Zone looked like a war zone. Damian had won every single activity with brutal efficiency, leaving no survivors in laser tag, mini-golf, or go-karts. Dick had somehow convinced Danny to bring out the giant birthday sundae, which Damian reluctantly poked at while glaring at everyone like they’d personally insulted his honor.

As they were leaving, Dick clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Thanks for putting up with us. You’re a champ.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said, yawning. “Just make sure you tip me enough to cover therapy.”

Dick laughed, handing him a suspiciously generous wad of cash. “Consider it done.”

As the door chimed shut behind them, Jason walked over, shaking his head. “If you tell anyone about this, you’re fired.”

Danny smirked. “Sure thing, boss. But you owe me hazard pay.”

Chapter Text

Danny was midway through cleaning up the aftermath of another chaotic birthday party when the arcade's doors burst open with a loud bang. He looked up from the counter, frowning at the sound of heavy boots on the tile floor.

And there they were. Gotham’s infamous crime clown duo: the Joker, grinning ear to ear, and Harley Quinn, twirling her oversized mallet like it was a baton. The noise of the arcade seemed to dim as they strolled in, the chaotic energy in the room shifting instantly.

Danny sighed, setting down his mop. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Do you guys need tokens, or are we skipping straight to the part where you try to destroy the place?”

Joker cackled, the sound grating enough to set Danny’s teeth on edge. “Oh, I like this one, Harley! Look at him—calm, cool, and snarky. You’ve got spunk, kid.”

Harley leaned on her mallet, chewing gum noisily. “You’re real cute, too. Shame we’re gonna have to wreck this joint.”

Danny didn’t flinch. “You’re going to wreck the Fun Zone? Really? That’s like kicking a puppy for fun. You’re already hated; do you really need to go lower?”

Joker’s grin widened impossibly. “Oh, but that’s the fun part! I’ve heard this place is under new management, and I just couldn’t resist. Red Hood’s little side hustle? How could I not come check it out?”

Danny casually leaned against the counter. “Right. So this is about Hood. Figures.”

Joker tilted his head, his voice dropping to an ominous tone. “Careful, kid. You’ve got some sass, but you don’t want to push my buttons.”

“Oh no,” Danny deadpanned, pretending to tremble. “The big scary clown is threatening me.”

Joker’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he reached into his coat, pulling out what looked like a grenade. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But you’re about to see how far those guts go when I—”

Before he could finish, Danny flicked his wrist imperceptibly, sending a subtle pulse of ghost energy toward the grenade. It glowed faintly green before the pin mysteriously shot back into place, the safety mechanism re-engaging.

Joker blinked, staring at the grenade. “Huh. That’s weird.”

“Guess you need to check your equipment,” Danny said, his voice dry as he tapped the counter. “Might be time for an upgrade.”

Harley narrowed her eyes. “Something ain’t right here, Puddin’.”

Danny leaned in, smirking. “What gave it away? The fact that your little party favor didn’t work, or the part where I’m still standing here, not caring?”

Joker’s grin returned, though it was a little tighter now. “You’re a bold one, kid. Let’s see how you handle a real show.”

With a snap of his fingers, Harley vaulted over the counter, swinging her mallet. Danny ducked effortlessly, letting the weapon smash into a row of plastic cups instead of his head.

“Careful!” Danny called, his tone playful. “You break it, you buy it!”

Harley growled, swinging again. This time, Danny stepped back and discreetly used his ghost powers to phase through the wall behind him, disappearing from sight.

“What the—?” Harley whipped around, searching for him. “Where’d he go?!”

Danny reappeared on the other side of the counter, acting as if nothing had happened. “Over here. You might wanna get your eyes checked, lady.”

Joker’s gaze sharpened. “How’d you do that?”

Danny shrugged. “Trade secret. You gonna buy some tokens, or are we still pretending you’re scary?”

Joker’s smile twisted into something more sinister. “Oh, I’m scary, all right. Harley, smash him.”

Harley lunged again, but this time Danny subtly summoned a small burst of ectoplasmic energy, sending a stack of bowling balls rolling directly into her path. She tripped with a loud thud, her mallet clattering to the floor.

“Oops,” Danny said, his voice oozing fake innocence. “Must’ve been gravity.”

Joker snarled, pulling a gun from his coat. “That’s it! No more games!”

Before he could fire, the lights in the arcade flickered, a faint green glow radiating from the fixtures. The temperature dropped, and an eerie mist began to creep along the floor. Danny, standing perfectly still, allowed just a fraction of his ghostly aura to seep out, his eyes glowing faintly green as he stared them down.

Joker hesitated, clearly unnerved. “What… what is this?”

Danny smiled coldly. “This? This is the part where you leave.”

Harley scrambled to her feet, grabbing Joker’s arm. “Uh, Puddin’? Maybe we should bounce.”

“But—” Joker started, only to glance around at the flickering lights and green glow. He scowled, pocketing his gun. “Fine. This place is lame anyway. Let’s go.”

As they retreated, Joker turned back, his grin returning. “You’re lucky, kid. But next time…”

“Next time,” Danny interrupted, his voice low and echoing faintly, “you’ll wish you stayed away.”

Joker’s grin faltered again, and he quickly shuffled out the door with Harley in tow.

When they were gone, Danny let out a breath, allowing the lights to stabilize and the temperature to return to normal. He glanced around at the few stunned patrons who had been hiding behind arcade machines.

“Attention, everyone!” Danny called, his usual cheerful tone back. “The Fun Zone is now clown-free. Mini-golf is still half-price. Enjoy!”

He grabbed his mop and went back to work, grinning to himself.

Chapter Text

It was another night of chaos at The Fun Zone. Danny was manning the counter, the arcade humming with the usual neon glow, when the doors slammed open yet again. This time, the intruder was a gang leader Red Hood had been gunning for: "Blackjaw," a burly man with a cybernetic jaw and an arsenal strapped across his chest.

Danny sighed, not even bothering to look up. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Do you need tokens, or are you just here to wreck my night?”

Red Hood emerged from the office with guns drawn, his helmet glinting in the fluorescent light. “Blackjaw. You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“Yeah, well,” Blackjaw sneered, pulling out a high-tech rifle. “I figured it was time we settled things.”

Danny groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can you guys not do this in front of the counter? I just cleaned the carpet.”

“Get behind cover, Fenton,” Jason barked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just stay here and watch you two macho it out.”

Blackjaw snarled, aiming his rifle. “Smart-mouthed brat. You should’ve stayed out of this.”

Everything happened in a split second. Blackjaw pulled the trigger, and Danny caught a glimpse of Jason moving to return fire. But the villain had shifted his aim. Jason was in the crosshairs—and Danny didn’t think. He stepped directly into the line of fire, the bullet catching him square in the forehead.

The arcade went deathly silent.

Danny staggered back, the impact knocking him to the ground. His coworkers screamed and scrambled for cover. Jason froze mid-aim, the sight of Danny’s limp form sending a rare flash of panic through him.

“Fenton!” Jason yelled, dropping to one knee beside him.

Blackjaw cackled. “Serves the kid right for getting in the way.”

Jason’s guns clicked, his fury palpable. But before he could pull the trigger, Danny groaned, sitting up as if he’d merely tripped. He pressed a hand to his forehead, glaring at the crimson stain on the carpet beneath him.

“Great,” Danny muttered, his tone laced with annoyance. “Now I’ve gotta clean that up, too. Bloodstains are the worst.”

Jason stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “What the hell?”

Danny waved him off, getting to his feet. “I’m fine. No thanks to you.”

Blackjaw’s laughter faltered, his expression twisting into confusion. “How are you still alive?”

Danny turned, pointing an accusing finger at Blackjaw. “You know, I was willing to let this whole ‘gunfight in the arcade’ thing slide, but now you’ve gone and made it personal. You ruined my carpet!”

Jason was still frozen in place, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just witnessed. “Fenton, you just got shot. In the head.”

Danny shrugged, brushing off his uniform. “Yeah, well, it happens.”

“It doesn’t happen,” Jason snapped. “Normal people don’t just walk that off!”

“Well, lucky for me, I’m not normal,” Danny muttered under his breath. Then, louder: “Can we focus on the guy with the gun?”

Blackjaw, clearly unnerved, aimed his rifle again. But before he could fire, Danny stepped forward, casually phasing his hand through the barrel. The rifle sparked and sputtered, the circuits frying instantly.

“What the—” Blackjaw yelped, dropping the ruined weapon.

Danny smirked. “Oops. Guess your fancy toy broke.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed behind his helmet. “What did you just do?”

Danny ignored him, grabbing an arcade token from the counter and flicking it at Blackjaw with a burst of ectoplasmic energy. The token hit the man’s cybernetic jaw with enough force to send him reeling.

Blackjaw stumbled, clutching his face. “You little freak!”

Jason, finally snapping out of his daze, moved in. With a swift series of punches and a well-placed kick, he had Blackjaw on the ground, unconscious. The villain’s men had already fled, unwilling to face Red Hood and whatever the hell Danny was.

Jason turned to Danny, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve got five seconds to start explaining, Fenton.”

Danny raised his hands in mock surrender. “Uh, let’s call it… a perk of working in Gotham?”

Jason took a step closer. “You got shot in the head. You’re still standing. And you just melted a gun barrel.”

“Did I?” Danny said, feigning innocence. “Must’ve been the adrenaline.”

Jason wasn’t buying it. “Don’t mess with me, Fenton.”

Danny sighed, glancing at the bloodstain on the carpet. “Can we maybe do this later? I’ve got a carpet to clean.”

Jason folded his arms, his stance unyielding. “You’re not off the hook.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny muttered, grabbing a mop and bucket. “Take a number, boss.”

Jason watched him for a long moment before muttering under his breath and stomping back to the office. Danny sighed in relief, mentally kicking himself for letting so much slip. He’d have to tread carefully—Red Hood wasn’t the type to let things go.

Chapter Text

Danny was pretty sure this job was going to be the death of him—not because of the usual chaos, but because he was now wearing a giant, fluorescent green dog mascot costume. His coworker, Kenny, who usually handled mascot duties for the birthday parties, had called out sick, leaving Danny to reluctantly pick up the slack.

“It’s just for a few hours,” Jason had said, smirking as Danny reluctantly pulled on the oversized costume. “And hey, maybe it’ll teach you some humility.”

Danny had glared at him through the oversized eyeholes. “If I trip and break my neck, you’re paying my medical bills.”

Jason shrugged. “Don’t trip, then.”

Now, Danny was waddling around the arcade, high-fiving kids with the floppy dog paws and trying not to pass out in the sauna-like suit.

“Best. Job. Ever,” Danny muttered under his breath as a gaggle of kids tugged on his tail.

It was during one such tail-tugging session that the doors to The Fun Zone burst open with a loud bang. Danny turned toward the noise, his oversized head wobbling precariously, to see a man striding in with an air of menace. The villain was decked out in a patchwork of metallic armor and wielding a high-tech laser gun.

“Alright, everyone!” the man bellowed. “This is a robbery! Hand over your wallets, your jewelry, and all your tokens!”

Danny sighed, shaking his giant dog head. Of course. Of course this would happen while I’m dressed in a glorified fursuit.

The parents and kids screamed, scattering like bowling pins. From behind the counter, one of Danny’s coworkers hit the silent alarm to alert Jason, who was in the back office. But Danny didn’t have time to wait.

The villain, apparently pleased with the chaos, aimed his laser gun at the prize counter. “Nobody move, or the claw machine gets it!”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Not on my watch, tin man.”

The villain turned, clearly not expecting the giant dog mascot to step forward. “What the—?”

Danny didn’t give him a chance to finish. He lunged forward with surprising speed, tackling the man to the ground. The villain’s laser gun clattered to the floor, and Danny started wailing on him with his oversized paws.

“What the hell is happening?” the villain shouted, trying to fend off the flurry of punches.

“Bad dog!” Danny growled, punctuating each word with a swing. “Don’t mess with The Fun Zone!”

Meanwhile, in the back office, Jason’s security monitors lit up with the scene of a green dog mascot absolutely demolishing the armored villain in the middle of the arcade. Jason froze for a moment, trying to process what he was seeing. Then, with a muttered curse, he grabbed his helmet and weapons, bolting toward the front.

By the time Jason arrived, the villain was barely conscious, his armor dented and scratched from the mascot’s relentless assault. Danny was standing over him, panting slightly as he adjusted the dog head that had started to slip to one side. "Guess his bark is worse than his bite." Danny panted.

Jason stared, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement under his hood. “Fenton, what the hell are you doing?”

Danny turned, his giant dog head bobbing awkwardly. “What does it look like? I’m protecting company assets.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the groaning villain on the floor. “You’re beating a guy half to death in a dog costume.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said, crossing his floppy arms. “He was threatening the claw machine. Nobody threatens the claw machine.”

Jason blinked, then burst out laughing, the sound muffled but unmistakable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome,” Danny said, his voice muffled by the dog head. “Now, can you call the cops or something? This suit smells like sweat and regret, and I’d like to take it off before I suffocate.”

Jason shook his head, still chuckling as he cuffed the villain and hauled him to his feet. “Sure thing, Fenton. But I’m never letting you live this down.”

Danny groaned, waddling back toward the staff room to peel off the costume. “This job gets dumber every day.”

As the villain was dragged away, one of the kids who had been hiding behind the arcade machines piped up. “That was awesome! The dog is a superhero!”

Danny sighed from the breakroom. “I hate this city.”

Chapter Text

It was a quiet evening at The Fun Zone—well, as quiet as it could be with the usual hum of arcade machines and the distant sound of kids screaming in delight from the go-kart track. Danny leaned on the counter, spinning a token on the surface, when the door chimed, announcing a new visitor.

The boy who walked in couldn’t have been older than twelve, but he carried himself like he owned the place. His sharp green eyes swept the room with a suspicious intensity, and his perfectly pressed jacket screamed “trying too hard to blend in.”

Danny smirked, instantly recognizing the kid. Oh, great. It’s Bat Brat.

Damian Wayne had arrived, and judging by the way he was eyeballing everything, he was clearly here on some sort of "mission." Danny straightened up, ready to play along.

“Welcome to The Fun Zone!” Danny said, his voice overly cheerful. “Here to play some games, or are you here for the ambiance?”

Damian's eyes narrowed. “I’m… here to observe the clientele's opinions on this facility.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Observe? What are you, a critic? Because I gotta warn you, the hot dogs are a solid ‘meh.’”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “I’m just… curious about how this place operates and customer satisfaction.”

Danny leaned on the counter, his grin widening. “You mean you’re curious about me, right? It’s okay, kid. I get it. I’m fascinating.”

Damian scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Danny chuckled, handing him a token. “Sure you don’t. Here—play a game or two. Maybe it’ll help you loosen up.”

For the next hour, Damian stalked around the arcade, pretending to be subtle as he scribbled notes in a little notebook. Danny watched him from the counter, stifling laughter at the kid’s terrible undercover skills. Damian was so obvious it was almost cute.

Danny decided to crank up the suspicion meter just for fun. Whenever Damian glanced his way, Danny made a point of talking into his phone in hushed tones or pretending to scribble mysterious equations on a napkin. Once, he even opened the claw machine with a key, whispered “the package is secure,” and closed it again, leaving Damian glaring at him from behind a pinball machine.

Meanwhile, in the back office, Jason was reviewing security footage when he noticed Damian’s very obvious surveillance tactics. He groaned, muttering, “What the hell is that little gremlin up to now?”

Pulling on his helmet, Jason stepped out of the office and made his way to the counter, where Danny was now stacking cups for no apparent reason.

“Fenton,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Why is there a tiny detective casing the place?”

Danny grinned, keeping his voice low. “Oh, you mean that brat? Yeah, he’s been watching me all night. Probably thinks I’m running some secret black-market arcade empire.”

Jason sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Danny said, stacking another cup. “He’s so easy to mess with.”

Jason smirked under his helmet. “Let’s see how far we can take this.”

A few minutes later, Jason stormed up to the counter, his voice loud enough to echo across the arcade. “Fenton! Back office. Now.”

Danny plastered on a confused expression. “Uh, is this about the claw machine incident? Because I can explain—”

“Now!” Jason barked, grabbing Danny by the arm and dragging him toward the office.

Damian, who had been pretending to play air hockey, froze mid-swipe. His eyes narrowed as he watched the two disappear behind the office door.

Inside the office, Danny collapsed into a chair, laughing quietly. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jason closed the door, leaning against it. “Let’s give him a show.”

Outside, Damian crept closer to the office, straining to hear the conversation. What he heard made his stomach twist.

“I told you to keep it low-key!” Jason’s voice growled. “Do you want the entire operation exposed?”

Danny’s voice followed, trembling with mock fear. “I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault the kid is snooping around! What was I supposed to do—ignore him?”

“You were supposed to act normal,” Jason snapped. “Now he’s suspicious. Do you know what happens if he reports this?”

“I’ll be careful!” Danny pleaded. “I swear, I didn’t say anything about the shipments!”

Damian’s heart raced. Shipments? He pressed his ear closer, desperate to catch more.

Jason’s voice dropped dangerously low. “If you screw this up, you’re done. Got it?”

Danny’s reply was barely audible. “Got it.”

Jason flung the door open, and Damian stumbled back, trying to act casual. Jason glared at him through his helmet. “Kid. Why are you loitering?”

Damian crossed his arms, his mask of composure snapping back into place. “I was just wondering why you dragged your employee into the back for a ‘chat.’ Something to hide?”

Jason snorted. “None of your business. Shouldn’t you be playing laser tag or something?”

“I don’t play games,” Damian said coldly.

Jason leaned closer, his voice dripping with menace. “Then maybe you shouldn’t hang around places like this.”

Damian bristled but didn’t back down. Jason held his glare for a moment longer before walking away, muttering, “Demon kids.”

As soon as Jason was out of earshot, Danny popped his head out of the office, grinning. “Hey, kid. You okay? You look pale.”

Damian glared at him. “I’ll figure out what you’re hiding. Mark my words.”

Danny winked. “Looking forward to it.”

Damian stormed off, muttering something in Arabic that Danny couldn’t quite catch. Jason returned to the counter, watching Damian’s retreating form.

“You think he bought it?” Jason asked.

Danny grinned. “Oh, definitely. That kid’s gonna be tailing me for weeks.”

Jason chuckled. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Danny said, grabbing a mop. “But I’m your idiot.”

Chapter Text

The arcade lights were flickering away, the faint smell of popcorn and hot dogs filled the air, as Danny was trying to untangle a roll of tickets that had jammed in one of the machines. Jason was holed up in the back office, probably grumbling about something or other.

Danny had just managed to free the tickets when the door swung open, and a delivery guy walked in holding a stack of pizza boxes.

“Uh, hey,” Danny called out from behind the counter. “I didn’t order pizza.”

The delivery guy squinted at the receipt. “This says it’s for… Red Hood?”

Danny blinked. “What?”

Just as the delivery guy set the stack of pizzas on the counter, Jason stomped out of the office, looking suspicious as always.

“What’s going on out here?” Jason barked.

Danny gestured to the pizzas. “Apparently, you ordered enough pizza to feed an army.”

Jason frowned, snatching the receipt. His eyes scanned it, and he growled. “This isn’t mine.”

Danny crossed his arms. “You sure? Because I could totally see you stress-eating five large pizzas.”

Jason shot him a glare. “It’s a prank.”

“Who pranks someone with pizza?” Danny asked, opening one of the boxes. “Wait, is that pineapple?”

Jason groaned. “Yeah, it’s definitely a prank. Only one person would send me this crap.”

Before Danny could ask who, the lights in the arcade dimmed, and a voice echoed through the speakers.

“Riddle me this, Hood… What’s cheesy, circular, and utterly ridiculous?”

Danny froze. “Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s Riddler.”

Sure enough, the Riddler himself walked through the door, wearing his signature green suit and holding a microphone connected to… something. Probably something bad.

“Edward,” Jason growled. “You’ve got five seconds to explain before I throw you out.”

Riddler smirked, gesturing dramatically. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come to challenge you! A battle of wits, right here in this… delightful establishment.”

Danny snorted. “Delightful? Dude, a kid threw up in the ball pit this morning.”

Riddler waved him off. “Minor details. Now, Hood, if you’re so clever, let’s see if you can solve my pizza-themed riddles! If you win, I’ll leave. If not, this whole place gets… a little toasty.”

Jason looked at Danny. “Can we just punch him now?”

Danny shrugged. “I mean, I’d kind of like to see where this is going.”

Riddler set up a little podium next to the skee-ball machines, pulling out flashcards covered in—what else—riddles. The first one was so easy it was almost insulting.

“What has toppings but isn’t a hat?” Riddler read with a flourish.

Jason stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Answer!” Riddler barked.

“A pizza,” Jason deadpanned.

“Correct,” Riddler said, looking annoyed. “Alright, try this one: What’s full of dough but never spends money?”

“Still pizza,” Jason replied.

Danny, leaning against the counter with a slice in hand, raised a hand. “Hey, I know this one! Also pizza.”

Riddler’s eye twitched. “Fine! Let’s make things more… interesting.”

He pressed a button on his microphone, and suddenly the claw machine started glowing ominously. The stuffed animals inside began vibrating like they were about to come alive.

Danny blinked. “Did you just weaponize the claw machine?”

Jason sighed. “Of course he did.”

“Careful, Hood!” Riddler taunted. “If you don’t solve my next riddle, these adorable plushies will be your undoing!”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You realize that makes no sense, right?”

“Silence!” Riddler yelled. “Here’s the final riddle: What’s served hot, sliced, and about to make you look foolish?”

Jason growled, grabbing one of the pizza boxes and hurling it at Riddler. The box smacked him in the face, sending the microphone flying.

Danny burst out laughing as Riddler stumbled back, tripping over a skee-ball machine. Jason grabbed the microphone and crushed it in his hand, deactivating the claw machine just as it started spitting out glowing tokens.

Riddler groaned from the floor. “You… brute!”

Jason loomed over him. “Next time you pull something like this, I’m shoving you into the ball pit.”

“Not the ball pit!” Riddler cried, scrambling to his feet. He dashed out the door, muttering something about uncultured vigilantes.

Danny sat on the counter, still laughing as Jason glared at the stack of pizzas. “So… do we eat these, or is there some kind of Gotham protocol for prank food?”

Jason sighed, grabbing a slice. “I’m not letting this go to waste.”

Danny grinned. “You want the pineapple? It’s your favorite, right?”

Jason threw a napkin at him. “Shut up, Fenton.”

Danny leaned back, watching as Jason took a bite. “You know, I think this is the best night we’ve ever had here.”

Jason gave him a flat look. “Remind me to fire you.”

Danny just laughed, grabbing another slice. “You’d miss me.”

And, for once, Jason didn’t argue.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It was another late night at The Fun Zone. The arcade was closed, the neon lights flickered faintly, and Danny was finishing up his least favorite chore—cleaning the skee-ball machines. The faint clatter of balls rolling down the ramp was oddly soothing, and for a moment, the place actually felt peaceful.

That peace was shattered when Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, strolled out of the back office. He was in civilian clothes—jeans, a leather jacket, and a t-shirt—but still managed to carry the same brooding energy he always had.

“Fenton,” Jason called out, leaning against the counter. “You’re still here?”

Danny straightened up, tossing his rag onto the counter. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure these machines don’t implode. What’s your excuse?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I own the place.”

“Sure,” Danny said, smirking. “But do you really work here? I’ve never seen you mop a single floor.”

Jason’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Mopping’s not in my skill set.”

Danny grabbed a soda from behind the counter and leaned back. “Alright, boss. You’re here late. What’s the deal? Brooding about Gotham? Planning a secret heist? Finally decided to help me clean?”

Jason chuckled dryly. “None of the above. Just needed some air.”

Danny’s smirk faded slightly. “Fair enough. Gotham has that ‘choke you with its atmosphere’ vibe sometimes.”

Jason gave him a curious look. “How’d you end up in Gotham, anyway? You don’t exactly scream ‘local.’”

Danny hesitated. He hadn’t exactly shared his full story—ghost powers, near-death experiences, and all—with Jason. “Let’s just say Amity Park got… complicated. Needed a fresh start.”

Jason nodded, not pressing further. “Amity Park. I think I've heard of it before?”

Danny froze for a split second before recovering. “Uh, yeah. Apparently it's supposed to be haunted. So it's become a bit of a tourist trap.”

Jason’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. “Huh. Figures. You’ve got that ‘seen some weird stuff’ look.”

Danny snorted. “And you don’t?”

Jason smirked. “Fair point."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the arcade machines filling the air. Finally, Danny spoke up.

“So,” Danny said, breaking the quiet. “What’s your deal? I mean, I get the whole ‘scary vigilante with guns’ vibe, but what made you decide to stick around here at the arcade?”

Jason shrugged. “Seemed like a good cover. Nobody questions an arcade. Kids come in, parents pay, nobody asks too many questions.”

Danny nodded slowly. “Fair. But you didn’t answer the important part—why this? Why not, I don’t know, a car wash?”

Jason chuckled. “Because I actually like this place. I grew up in Crime Alley. There weren’t any places like this back then. Figured I’d make something decent for the kids.”

Danny blinked, caught off guard. “Wow. That’s… unexpectedly wholesome for a guy who carries an arsenal under his jacket.”

Jason shrugged again, looking faintly uncomfortable. “Don’t get used to it.”

Danny leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “Alright, fair’s fair. Since you’re sharing, I’ll let you in on something.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “This should be good.”

Danny grinned. “Back in Amity Park, I was kind of a weird kid. Spent half my time in my parents’ basement helping them build crazy gadgets.”

Jason tilted his head. “You were a tinkerer?”

“You could say that,” Danny said, sipping his soda. “Built some pretty wild stuff. A portal, for one.”

Jason frowned. “A portal? To where?”

Danny hesitated, then waved it off. “Long story. Let’s just say it didn’t work out how I planned.”

Jason studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Sounds like Gotham would suit you.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s definitely not boring.”

Jason pushed off the counter, stretching. “Alright, Fenton. Since you’re feeling chatty, how about a little wager?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “A wager?”

Jason gestured toward the skee-ball machines. “Best score wins. If I win, you clean the whole arcade by yourself tomorrow.”

Danny smirked. “And if I win?”

Jason crossed his arms. “You get tomorrow night off.”

"Do I still get paid?" Danny asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep." Hood replied instantly.

Danny grinned. “You’re on.”

They squared off at the skee-ball machines, and for the first time, Danny got to see a less serious side of Jason. The vigilante might’ve been good with guns, but his skee-ball aim was hilariously off. Balls flew wildly, some bouncing off the glass divider and rolling back down the ramp.

Danny, on the other hand, nailed shot after shot, smirking as his score climbed higher.

“You’re cheating,” Jason accused, narrowing his eyes.

Danny laughed. “How do you cheat at skee-ball?”

“You’re too good at this,” Jason muttered, trying and failing to land the 50-point hole.

Danny leaned on his machine, grinning. “Maybe you’re just bad at it.”

In the end, Danny won by a landslide, and Jason begrudgingly admitted defeat.

“Alright, you get the night off,” Jason said, shaking his head. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Danny grinned, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t worry, boss. Your secret’s safe with me—about how bad you are at skee-ball.”

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t bother hiding his smirk. As Danny walked out into the Gotham night, he realized something surprising: Red Hood might’ve been a brooding vigilante with a lot of baggage, but he wasn’t so bad to work for after all.

Chapter Text

It was a typical chaotic evening at The Fun Zone. Kids were screaming, arcade machines were dinging and buzzing in unison, and Danny was manning the prize counter with all the enthusiasm of a guy who had spent way too much time untangling skee-ball tickets. Jason had stationed himself in the back office, as usual, leaving Danny to deal with the never-ending chaos.

Danny was about to answer yet another question about whether or not the claw machine was rigged (it absolutely was) when the arcade doors swung open with a gust of cold air. A man walked in, trench coat flaring, cigarette dangling from his lips despite the very large NO SMOKING sign above the counter.

Danny blinked. “Uh, hey. No smoking inside, pal.”

The man, who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, removed the cigarette with a shrug and dropped it onto the carpeted floor and stepped on it to snuff it out. His sharp eyes scanned the room, and Danny instantly felt a strange buzz of energy—something otherworldly.

Constantine ignored him, his gaze zeroing in on Danny. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. “Well, well. Fancy running into you here, Your Majesty.”

Danny’s stomach sank. He forced a casual grin. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just the cashier.”is an arcade. The most sacred thing here is the claw machine, and even that’s questionable.”

Constantine’s smirk didn’t waver. “Oh no, I’ve got the right bloke. The aura… and the smell of ectoplasm. Can’t miss it.”

Danny tensed, but before he could say anything else, Jason appeared from the back office, his presence immediately dark and foreboding.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason growled, stepping up beside Danny.

Constantine turned his attention to Jason, his smirk widening slightly. “Easy, mate. Just here for a chat with your employee.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.”

Danny, sensing the tension, stepped between them. “Whoa, whoa, let’s all take a deep breath, yeah? No need to start a turf war in the middle of the arcade.”

Jason didn’t budge, his sharp gaze locked on Constantine. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing,” Constantine said lightly.. “Just here to chat with your employee. He’s a bit of a VIP in some… interesting circles.”

Jason stood, his body language shifting to something more protective. “You want to explain what that means?”

Constantine shrugged, flicking ash onto the floor. “Nothing you’d understand, mate. Just some ghostly business.”

Danny jumped in before Jason could press further. “Ghostly business? Man, you must’ve been talking to my parents. They’re obsessed with that kind of stuff.”

Constantine’s smirk didn’t waver. “Oh, I’m not talking about your folks, kid. I’m talking about you. ”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Fenton, you know this guy?”

“Not really,” Danny said quickly. “He’s probably just mistaking me for someone else.”

Constantine’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Am I?”

Jason stepped closer, his tone cold. “Alright, Constantine . If you’re here to harass my employee, you’re leaving. Now.”

Constantine held up his hands, still smirking. “Relax, mate. I’m just here to talk.”

“To talk about what?” Jason snapped.

“Oh, you know,” Constantine said, his tone casual but pointed. “How a little human like your boy here managed to climb his way to the top of the ghostly food chain.”

Jason turned to Danny, his expression darkening. “What’s he talking about?”

Danny laughed nervously, waving his hands. “No idea. I think he’s got me confused with someone else.”

Constantine’s smirk widened. “You’re good, kid, I’ll give you that. But I can see it. The way the air shifts around you. The weight of your presence. You’re not just some teenager running an arcade register.”

Jason stepped between them, his hand brushing the pistol at his hip. “You’ve got ten seconds to leave before I drag you out myself.”

Constantine’s demeanor shifted slightly, his smirk softening into something more serious. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re standing next to—”

“Someone who’s just trying to live a normal life,” Danny interrupted firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. “Look, man, I don’t know what you think you know, but I’m not interested in whatever conspiracy theory you’re spinning. So why don’t you take your cigarette and your weird vibes and hit the road?”

Jason’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, letting Danny handle it for the moment.

Constantine tilted his head, studying Danny carefully. “Alright, kid. Play it your way. But don’t think you can stay under the radar forever. Sooner or later, someone’s going to come knocking, and it won’t be as friendly as me.”

Danny crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. “I’ll take my chances.”

Constantine finally relented, flicking his cigarette onto the floor and grinding it out with his shoe. “Fair enough. But if you ever need a hand keeping the nasties at bay, you know where to find me.”

He turned to Jason, giving him a mock salute. “Pleasure meeting you, Red Hood. Keep an eye on your boy, yeah? He’s more important than you realize.”

Jason didn’t respond, his glare unwavering as Constantine strolled out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Jason rounded on Danny. “Start talking. Now.”

Danny raised his hands defensively. “I don’t know what that guy’s deal is! He’s probably some scam artist trying to freak people out.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “He knew your name. And he said something about ghosts. You expect me to believe that’s just a coincidence?”

Danny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, my parents were ghost hunters, okay? Maybe he ran into them at some point and decided to mess with me.”

Jason didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop—for now. “Fine. But if he comes back, you tell me. Got it?”

“Got it,” Danny said, relieved that Jason wasn’t pushing harder.

Later that night, as Danny mopped the floor and Jason disappeared into the back office, Danny let out a long breath. Constantine showing up had been bad enough, but the fact that Jason had almost pieced things together? That was terrifying.

“I really need to get better at lying,” Danny muttered to himself, tossing the mop back into the bucket.

For now, he’d dodged a bullet. But he knew Constantine wasn’t the type to let things go. Sooner or later, the Ghost King’s secret might come out—and Danny wasn’t sure what Jason would do when it did.

Chapter Text

The Fun Zone was at peak chaos, as usual. Kids were screaming, the skee-ball machines were jammed again, and someone had spilled an alarming amount of nacho cheese near the go-kart track. Danny was barely holding it together, wiping down the counter when a blood-curdling scream echoed across the arcade.

“There’s something in the ball pit!” a kid yelled, bolting toward the exit with a group of his friends.

Danny froze mid-wipe, his stomach dropping. Jason, sitting at a table nearby, immediately stood up, his gaze snapping to the colorful mass of plastic balls. 

“I’ll handle it,” Jason said, his voice cold and determined.

Danny panicked, rushing to block his path. “Wait! It’s probably just a… really big rat!”

Jason gave him a flat, unimpressed look. 

“I’ve got it!” Danny blurted out, waving his hands. “Rats love me. I’ll, uh… talk to it.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, gripping the crowbar tighter. “Talk to it?”

“Trust me,” Danny said, already climbing into the pit. “No need for violence. I’m a rat whisperer.”

Jason sighed, watching as Danny dove into the sea of brightly colored balls. 

Once inside, Danny waded through the balls, his ghost sense tingling like crazy. It didn’t take long to spot the source of the disturbance: a tiny, glowing green blob ghost happily bouncing from ball to ball like it was playing a game.

“Seriously?” Danny muttered under his breath. “You’re haunting a ball pit?”

The blob squeaked in response, its form jiggling with excitement.

“Okay, listen,” Danny hissed, keeping his voice low. “You can’t stay here. You’re scaring the kids, and if Jason finds you, he’s going to flip.”

The ghost squeaked again, clearly enjoying itself. It picked up a ball, phased it into nothingness, and let out what sounded like a tiny laugh.

Danny sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “You’ve got about ten seconds before my boss starts swinging his guns around. Shoo!”

Reluctantly, the blob floated toward the edge of the pit, giving one last squeaky goodbye before phasing through the wall and vanishing.

Danny emerged from the ball pit, covered in plastic balls and looking thoroughly exasperated. Jason stood there, gun in hand, his expression a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

“Well?” Jason demanded. “What was it?”

Danny brushed himself off, grinning sheepishly. “Loose balls. They were stacked up weird and shifted around. You know how it is.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Loose balls don’t make kids scream.”

Danny shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Maybe it was the sheer existential dread of being in a ball pit. Those things are nasty.”

Jason didn’t look convinced, but he holstered his guns. 

Later, as Danny restocked the prize counter, Jason leaned against the wall, watching him with a frown. “You’ve got a lot of weird explanations for things.”

Danny froze for a split second before forcing a grin. “Gotham’s a weird place.”

Jason crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “It is. But you’re starting to seem like the weirdest part.”

Danny swallowed hard, keeping his focus on the prize shelf. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Jason didn’t reply, but Danny could feel his gaze lingering before he finally walked away. As soon as Jason was out of earshot, Danny let out a long breath.

“Great,” Danny muttered to himself. “Next time, I’m letting the blob handle its own eviction.”

He glanced toward the ball pit, half-expecting the ghost to pop back out.

Chapter Text

The arcade was finally quiet after a long day of chaos. The neon lights were dimmed, the skee-ball machines were silent, and Danny was halfway through mopping the floor. He sighed, appreciating the rare moment of peace. Jason had retreated to the back office, which meant Danny had at least an hour of not being under scrutiny.

But, of course, Gotham—and his ghostly luck—had other plans.

A soft chirp echoed through the empty arcade, making Danny freeze mid-mop. He turned toward the ball pit, his ghost sense flaring like a fire alarm. The pit looked normal, but the unmistakable sound of tiny, high-pitched laughter made his stomach drop.

“Oh no,” Danny muttered, abandoning the mop and sprinting toward the pit.

He peered into the mass of colorful plastic balls and immediately regretted it. The blob ghost from earlier was back—and it had brought friends. At least six other tiny green blobs were bouncing around, phasing through the balls and tossing them into the air like confetti.

“Are you kidding me?” Danny whispered, his hands on his head. “This is not a playground!”

One of the blobs squeaked, spotting Danny. It floated over, looking absolutely delighted, and did a little spin around his head.

“Stop that,” Danny hissed, swatting at it like a mosquito. “Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ll get in if Jason sees you?”

The blob squeaked again, clearly unconcerned. Behind it, one of its friends started stacking balls into a precarious pyramid while another spun around in circles, scattering balls everywhere.

“Great,” Danny muttered. “Now I’m babysitting.”

Danny knelt by the edge of the pit, trying to look as intimidating as possible—which wasn’t easy when facing a bunch of blobs.

“Alright, listen up,” he said, pointing at the group. “This is not your hangout spot. You’re scaring the kids during the day, and you’re gonna get me fired at night. So scram!”

The blobs ignored him, giggling as they continued their game. One even dove into the balls and popped back up with a plastic token balanced on its head like a crown.

Danny groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not even listening to me.”

Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the back office. Danny’s eyes widened in panic. Jason was coming.

“Crap, crap, crap!” Danny whispered, waving his arms at the blobs. “You have to hide! Now!”

The blobs paused, tilting their little heads at him like confused puppies. Danny pointed frantically at the wall. “Go! Phase out of here before—”

“Fenton,” Jason’s voice called out, dangerously close. “Why are you yelling?”

Danny spun around, plastering on his best innocent grin. “Uh, just practicing my motivational speeches! You know, for team morale.”

Jason emerged from the hallway, arms crossed and clearly unimpressed. “At closing?”

“Teamwork knows no time limits,” Danny said quickly, stepping in front of the ball pit to block Jason’s view.

Jason frowned, looking past him. “What’s going on in the pit?”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. “Nothing! Just… balls being… pit-like. Totally normal.”

Jason took a step closer, but Danny held out his hands. “Wait! You don’t want to go in there.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because… because…” Danny’s brain scrambled for an excuse. “Because I just cleaned it! You’ll ruin my hard work!”

Jason gave him a skeptical look, but before he could respond, a faint giggle came from the pit. Danny winced, shooting a glare at the blobs, which were now peeking out from under the balls like mischievous children.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

Danny laughed nervously, stepping to the side to block Jason’s view again. “Probably just the wind! Or, you know, the echo-y acoustics in here.”

Jason stared at him, clearly not buying it. “Fenton—”

Before he could finish, one of the blobs decided to float out of the pit, doing a little spin in the air. Danny’s stomach dropped as he grabbed a nearby ball and hurled it at the ghost.

“Rat!” Danny shouted, pointing at the blob. “Big rat! Flying rat! I got it!”

The blob squeaked in protest before phasing through the ball and disappearing into the wall. Jason blinked, his expression shifting from suspicion to outright disbelief.

“Flying rat?” Jason asked slowly.

“Yeah!” Danny said, nodding furiously. “Gotham, right? Weird stuff happens all the time.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. “You’re the strangest person I’ve ever hired.”

“Thanks, boss!” Danny said, forcing a grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should finish up here.”

Jason glanced at the pit one last time before shaking his head. “Fine. Just… make sure there’s no more ‘rats’.”

“Will do!” Danny chirped as Jason walked away, still muttering about flying rodents.

As soon as Jason was gone, Danny turned back to the pit, glaring at the remaining blobs. “You see what you almost did? I almost got fired!”

The blobs squeaked in unison, looking sheepish. One floated over and nudged Danny’s shoulder, as if apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny muttered, waving them off. “Just go haunt a graveyard or something. Somewhere else.”

The blobs chirped, bouncing out of the pit and phasing through the walls one by one. Danny collapsed onto the floor, groaning.

“This job is going to kill me,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling.

But as he got up to finish cleaning, he couldn’t help but smile. At least it wasn’t boring.

Chapter Text

It started like any other day at The Fun Zone. The arcade was loud, chaotic, and filled with kids hyped up on soda and mediocre pizza. Danny was at the counter, handing out tickets to a group of kids arguing over who had enough points for the giant inflatable hammer.

Everything seemed normal until the screaming started.

Danny whipped his head toward the laser tag arena, where several kids started to scream.

His stomach sank. The oversized green dog mascot costume was supposed to be safely stored in the break room. He hadn’t touched it since being forced to wear it last week. If it was moving… well, Danny already had a pretty good idea of who—or what—was behind it.

Sure enough, when Danny cautiously approached the source of the commotion, there it was: the mascot. Standing in the middle of the arcade. Dancing.

The green dog was spinning in circles, waving its floppy arms like it was at a rave. Kids and parents stared in awe. One kid even tried to approach it, only to back away when the mascot bent down and did an exaggerated jazz hands gesture right in their face.

“Of course,” Danny muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It couldn’t just be a normal day.”

Jason, thankfully, was nowhere in sight—yet. Danny quickly ducked behind a skee-ball machine and was able to use his ghost sense to see the mascot's true form. Sure enough, a small, translucent figure was floating inside the costume, laughing hysterically.

The ghost was about the size of a football, glowing faintly blue with sharp little teeth and mischievous eyes. It must’ve phased into the mascot while no one was looking, deciding it was the perfect prop for chaos.

Danny gritted his teeth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Danny stepped forward, clapping his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, folks! Nothing to worry about! Guess our pup here is… showing off some new dance moves!”

The crowd hesitated but didn’t disperse. The ghost, sensing an audience, took things up a notch. It made the mascot do an overly dramatic pirouette, then collapse into an exaggerated faint.

“Great,” Danny muttered under his breath. “It’s got a flair for the theatrical.”

He needed to act fast before Jason noticed the commotion. Taking a deep breath, Danny marched up to the mascot and pointed at it.

“Alright, buddy,” he said loudly, for the benefit of the crowd. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to get back to the break room.”

The mascot tilted its head, the ghost clearly amused. It then gave Danny a mocking bow, as if to say, Make me.

Danny clenched his jaw. “Okay. You wanna play games? Let’s play games.”

Danny leaned in, lowering his voice. “Alright, here’s the deal. I know you’re a ghost. You like an audience? Fine. I’ll give you the performance of a lifetime. But you have to leave afterward. Deal?”

The ghost inside the mascot paused, clearly intrigued. It made the costume nod.

“Great,” Danny said, backing up. He turned to the crowd, clapping his hands again. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Prepare to witness the greatest dance-off in Fun Zone history!”

The crowd, now thoroughly entertained, began cheering. Danny sighed, praying this wouldn’t end up on social media, and started dancing.

It wasn’t a good dance. It wasn’t even close to good. Danny flailed his arms, shuffled his feet, and did a weird spin that almost made him trip. But the crowd loved it, cheering louder with every move.

The mascot joined in, mimicking Danny’s terrible dancing but adding its own dramatic flair—waving its arms, twirling, and even pretending to “fall” and get back up like it was in a slapstick routine.

Danny was mid-spin, doing his best impression of a breakdance move, when Jason walked out of the back office. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the scene in disbelief.

Danny, drenched in sweat, was dramatically “dipping” the mascot like they were partners in a ballroom routine. The mascot, now limp, flopped in his arms like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell is going on?” Jason’s voice cut through the cheers.

Danny froze, still holding the now vacant mascot. He straightened up, laughing nervously. “Uh… working?”

Jason’s glare was ice-cold. “You’re dancing with the mascot.”

Danny shrugged, still trying to catch his breath. “Hey, you told me to keep the guests entertained.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Danny said, letting the mascot drop to the floor. “But they loved it.”

The crowd erupted into applause, completely oblivious to the ghost snickering above the crowd and then phasing through the wall.

Once the crowd dispersed, Danny dragged the limp mascot back to the break room while Jason followed, arms crossed.

“You want to explain what that was?” Jason asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Danny tossed the costume onto a chair, wiping his forehead. “What can I say? The kids wanted a show.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Danny grinned, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I’m a great dancer.”

Jason rolled his eye and walked out. Danny slumped into a chair, exhaling in relief.

“Note to self,” he muttered. “Never negotiate with ghosts who were definitely theater kids in their past life.”

Chapter Text

The Fun Zone was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, which made Danny suspicious. Normally, kids were running around, screaming over their ticket totals or fighting over the last slice of pizza. But today, it was eerily calm.

That was until the front door opened, and a massive figure ducked inside. The arcade fell silent as Killer Croc—towering, scaly, and looking very out of place—stood in the doorway.

Danny blinked, frozen in place behind the counter. “Uh… welcome to The Fun Zone?”

Croc grunted, his yellow eyes scanning the room. For a moment, Danny thought he was going to rip the skee-ball machines apart or turn the go-kart track into a wrestling ring. But then, Croc’s gaze landed on the claw machine.

“What’s that?” Croc growled, pointing a clawed finger.

Danny followed his gaze. “The claw machine?”

Croc nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “What’s in it?”

Danny hesitated. “Uh, stuffed animals, mostly. A couple of plushies, keychains, some candy—”

“I want the crocodile,” Croc interrupted, stepping closer. His massive frame loomed over the machine as he squinted at a small green stuffed crocodile wedged between a panda and a rainbow-colored unicorn.

Danny tilted his head. “You… want the plushie?”

Croc nodded again, his claws tapping impatiently on the machine’s glass. “How?”

Danny walked over, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. “Uh, you just put some tokens in and use the claw to grab it. It’s… harder than it looks.”

Croc grunted and fished a handful of change from his pocket, slamming it onto the counter. “Tokens. Now.”

Danny scrambled to exchange the money, handing over a stack of tokens. Croc shoved one into the machine and gripped the joystick with surprising delicacy for someone his size. The claw creaked as it descended toward the crocodile, wobbling slightly before clamping down on its tail.

For a brief, glorious moment, it looked like Croc might win. But then, as the claw ascended, the plushie slipped through its grasp and fell back into the pile.

Croc growled, his teeth bared. “It dropped it.”

“Yeah, uh…” Danny scratched the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a scam. The claw’s weak on purpose.”

Croc turned to him, narrowing his eyes. “Fix it.”

Danny held up his hands. “I can’t! It’s rigged by the manufacturer. But I can, uh, coach you?”

Croc stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. Teach me.”

Over the next hour, Danny coached Croc through countless attempts to snag the plushie. They tried angling the claw, timing the drop perfectly, even jiggling the joystick to get a better grip. Each time, the claw either missed entirely or dropped the crocodile just before it reached the prize chute.

“You’ve almost got it,” Danny said for the twelfth time, trying to sound encouraging as Croc jammed another token into the machine. “Just… a little more to the left.”

Croc’s tail twitched in frustration, but he followed Danny’s instructions. The claw descended, grabbed the crocodile by its snout, and finally—finally—dropped it into the chute.

Croc stared at the prize slot, his eyes wide with disbelief. Slowly, he reached in and pulled out the plushie, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“I got it,” Croc said, his voice softer than Danny had ever heard it. “I got Lil’ Croc.”

Danny blinked. “Lil’ Croc?”

Croc nodded, cradling the stuffed animal like a baby. “Yeah. Lil’ Croc.”

Danny suppressed a laugh. “Well, uh, congrats. You earned it.”

Word spread quickly among Gotham’s rogues that Killer Croc had a new companion. Wherever he went, Lil’ Croc went too. He carried it to meetings with Penguin, perched it on his shoulder during heists, and even set it on the table during card games at the Iceberg Lounge.

Penguin was baffled. “Is that… a toy?”

Croc growled. “He is Lil’ Croc. Say hi.”

Penguin blinked, unsure if Croc was joking. “Uh… hi?”

Scarecrow tilted his head, examining the plushie. “Psychologically fascinating,” he muttered. “A manifestation of suppressed nurturing instincts, perhaps?”

Harley Quinn thought it was adorable. “Aw, Croccy! You got a baby! Can I babysit?”

“No,” Croc said firmly, pulling Lil’ Croc closer.

Even Joker, who rarely cared about anyone else’s quirks, raised an eyebrow. “What’s next, Croc? Matching outfits?”

Croc bared his teeth. “You touch Lil’ Croc, and I’ll rip your arms off.”

A few days later, Croc returned to The Fun Zone with Lil’ Croc in tow. He set the plushie on the counter and stared at Danny.

“I need tokens,” Croc said. “For backup.”

Danny grinned, handing him a stack of tokens. “You’re really committed to this, huh?”

Croc nodded solemnly. “Lil’ Croc deserves friends.”

Danny watched as Croc lumbered back to the claw machine, his massive hands surprisingly gentle as he tried for a stuffed panda. Shaking his head, Danny turned to Jason, who had just walked out of the back office.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked, his gaze fixed on Croc.

Danny smirked. “Just Gotham’s best Fun Zone customer bonding with his new plushie family.”

Jason stared for a long moment before wiping his hands down his face and grumbling towards his office.

Danny chuckled watching his hard ass of a boss exasperated at the scene.

Chapter Text

The Fun Zone was packed that evening, with customers lining up for mini-golf, arcade games, and, of course, laser tag. Danny was manning the counter, handing out glow wristbands to a group of teenagers who were hyped for their game. Meanwhile, Jason lurked near the go-kart track, keeping an eye out for trouble.

Everything seemed normal until the fog machines in the laser tag arena started pumping out more smoke than usual.

“Uh, is it supposed to do that?” one of the teenagers asked, pointing toward the arena as a thick, eerie mist began to creep out of the entrance.

Danny frowned. “Nope. Definitely not.”

Before he could investigate, one of the kids screamed and bolted out of the arena, eyes wide with terror. “There’s something in there!” they yelled. “It’s alive!”

Danny’s stomach sank. He glanced at Jason, who was already moving toward the arena with a scowl.

“I’ll check it out!” Danny called, darting in before Jason could argue.

Inside the laser tag arena, the fog was so dense that Danny could barely see his hand in front of his face. The normally colorful, glowing lights were muted, casting ominous shadows that danced in the mist. He could hear faint whispers and creepy laughter echoing around him, making his ghost sense tingle like crazy.

“Okay,” Danny muttered to himself. “Definitely not normal.”

As he moved deeper into the arena, he spotted a dark figure crouched near one of the fog machines, tinkering with the controls. The figure straightened, revealing a lanky man in a tattered suit and a burlap mask.

Scarecrow.

“Of course it’s you,” Danny whispered, ducking behind a barrier.

Scarecrow turned, holding up a small canister of glowing green gas. “Ah, another victim for the theater of fear,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “I wonder what nightmares will dance in your mind?”

Before Danny could respond, Scarecrow released the gas into the fog. A wave of fear toxin rolled over the arena, seeping into every corner. Danny felt his chest tighten, his vision blurring as terrifying images began to take shape.

Danny staggered, gripping the side of a barrier to steady himself. His surroundings twisted and shifted, the arcade’s cheerful decorations morphing into jagged, monstrous shapes. Ghostly versions of his parents appeared, chasing him with weapons, shouting about experiments and vivisection.

“No,” Danny muttered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “This isn’t real.”

His ghost side surged to the surface, trying to protect him. Green light flickered around his hands as his glowing eyes pierced through the fog.

Scarecrow, still watching from the shadows, tilted his head. “Fascinating. Not the reaction I expected. What are you, boy?”

Danny’s fear melted into irritation. He straightened, letting his ghostly form emerge fully, his white hair glowing in the dim light.

“You want fear?” Danny said, his voice echoing with an otherworldly edge. “Let me show you real fear.”

Danny vanished into the fog, his body becoming intangible. Scarecrow scanned the arena, his calm demeanor cracking as ghostly whispers filled the air.

“You think you know fear, Scarecrow?” Danny’s disembodied voice taunted, bouncing off the walls. “You’ve never faced someone like me.”

A sudden gust of freezing wind swept through the arena, cutting through the fog dissipating the fear toxin and sending Scarecrow stumbling. Shadows twisted and stretched, forming clawed hands that reached for him.

“What—what is this?” Scarecrow stammered, clutching his canister of toxin like a lifeline.

Danny materialized behind him, his glowing green eyes and sharp fangs illuminated in the mist. “Boo,” he said with a menacing grin.

Scarecrow yelped, dropping his canister as he scrambled away. Danny phased through a barrier, appearing in front of him with a roar that rattled the walls. “Still think you’re the master of fear?”

Scarecrow didn’t reply—he was too busy bolting for the exit. He tripped over a stray laser tag vest on his way out, barely catching himself before sprinting through the arcade and out the front door. Several customers watched in confusion as the infamous rogue fled the scene like a frightened child.

Danny, back in his human form, emerged from the laser tag arena moments later. He was pale, his hair slightly frazzled, but otherwise fine.

Jason intercepted him near the counter, his arms crossed. “What happened in there?”

“Uh…” Danny scratched the back of his neck. “Faulty fog machine?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “And the screaming?”

“Overenthusiastic players,” Danny said quickly. “You know how kids are.”

Jason didn’t look convinced, but he sighed and let it go.

Later that night, as Danny mopped the laser tag arena, he chuckled to himself. Scarecrow might’ve thought he was the king of fear, but he clearly wasn’t prepared for Danny Fenton—or, more specifically, Danny Phantom.

“Let that be a lesson,” Danny muttered, tossing his mop back into the bucket. “Don’t mess with ghosts who know how to scare back.”

The Fun Zone was quiet once more, and for the first time all day, Danny felt like he’d truly won.

Chapter Text

It was nearing midnight, and The Fun Zone was finally still. The arcade lights dimmed, the games were muted, and the faint hum of the neon signs was the only sound filling the air. Danny leaned against the counter, sipping a soda, his hair slightly mussed and his shirt stained with a mix of nacho cheese and soda syrup.

Jason strolled out of the back office, carrying a bag of popcorn. He dropped into the chair beside Danny at the counter, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You look like hell,” Jason said, smirking.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks, boss. Always a confidence booster.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “You should go home. You’ve been here all day.”

Danny shrugged. “Someone’s gotta make sure this place doesn’t collapse under its own chaos.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, studying Danny for a moment. “You know, you don’t have to work so hard. It’s just an arcade.”

Danny snorted. “Just an arcade? This place is practically Gotham’s unofficial asylum for hyperactive kids. If I slacked off, we’d be overrun.”

Jason smiled faintly. “True. Still, you go above and beyond. Most people would’ve quit by now.”

Danny glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “What, and miss all this glamour? Nah, I’m sticking around.”

Jason threw another piece of popcorn into his mouth, pausing before he spoke again. “I mean it, though. You’re good at this. You keep this place running when half the time, I’m ready to burn it down.”

Danny laughed, leaning on the counter. “I’ve noticed.”

Jason’s grin faded slightly, his voice softening. “I know I give you a hard time, Fenton. Bust your chops every chance I get.”

“You don’t say,” Danny said, smirking.

Jason ignored the jab, his expression thoughtful. “But I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think you could handle it. You’ve got this way of keeping everything together, even when it feels like the whole world’s falling apart. I respect that.”

Danny blinked, caught off guard. “Wow. Was that a compliment? From you?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jason said, smirking. “But yeah, it was. You’ve got a work ethic I don’t see much anymore. And you don’t back down, even when things get messy.”

Danny was quiet for a moment, then shrugged, his tone casual. “Guess I’m just stubborn.”

Jason chuckled. “Guess so. But it works for you.”

Danny toyed with the straw of his soda, his voice quieter. “You know, I’ve always been kind of a workaholic. Back in my hometown, I was the guy everyone counted on to fix things. My parents, my friends—it didn’t matter what it was; I’d dive in headfirst, no breaks, no questions. It’s just… how I am, I guess.”

Jason tilted his head, watching him closely. “And now?”

Danny shrugged, his grin a little sheepish. “Now I’m trying to figure out if I can slow down without the world falling apart. Coming here, working at this place... it’s like my first shot at something that isn’t life-or-death. Just... normal.”

Jason nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Not easy, is it? Letting go?”

Danny let out a dry laugh. “Not even a little. But I’m trying. Gotham’s chaos makes it hard not to get swept up, though.”

Jason smirked. “Yeah, well, this city doesn’t exactly do ‘calm.’ But if anyone can find a balance, it’s you. You’ve got the drive—just don’t let it burn you out.”

Danny’s grin widened. “Look at you, being all encouraging. You sure you’re the real Jason?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it, Fenton. I’m still gonna give you a hard time.”

Danny laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, sharing some leftover popcorn from the machines and watching the muted arcade lights flicker. Finally, Danny glanced at Jason, his tone lighter.

“You know, for someone who acts like a grump 24/7, you’re not so bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, Fenton.”

Danny laughed. “Seriously, though. You’re a decent boss. Even if you do yell a lot.”

Jason smirked. “And you’re a decent employee. Even if you’re a pain in the ass.”

Danny grinned. “Glad we’ve reached an understanding.”

Jason stood, tossing the empty popcorn bag in the trash. “Get some rest, Fenton. You’ve earned it.”

Danny saluted lazily. “You too, boss.”

As Jason disappeared into the back office, Danny leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face. For all the chaos, The Fun Zone wasn’t so bad. And, surprisingly, neither was the Red Hood.

Chapter Text

Jason wasn’t exactly the sentimental type. He didn’t do big speeches, heartfelt thank-yous, or anything that could be mistaken for “soft.” But even he had to admit that The Fun Zone had somehow managed to stay standing longer than expected, and a huge part of that was because of his employees.

Well. Mostly because of one employee.

Danny Fenton.

Which was why Jason found himself hosting a very reluctant “Employee Appreciation Dinner” at a half-decent diner in Gotham, complete with mediocre burgers and fries that weren’t half bad.

“You’re really doing this, huh?” Roy had teased him when Jason told him about it.

“Yeah, Roy. It’s called ‘not being a total asshole,’” Jason had shot back.

And now here they were—half his staff sitting in a noisy corner booth, laughing over their meals, plates stacked with burgers, fries, and the occasional milkshake. It wasn’t a fancy event, but considering the usual chaos of their workplace, it was nice to see everyone relaxed for once.

Jason stood up, clinking a fork against his glass to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, shut up for a second.”

The table quieted, a few employees laughing at his usual bluntness.

“I don’t say this often, so listen up while you can.” Jason crossed his arms, glancing at the table. “You guys keep this place from burning to the ground—sometimes literally—and I figured you deserved a night out that didn’t involve screaming kids, broken arcade machines, or near-death experiences.”

Everyone chuckled. Jason pulled a small, laminated card from his pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of Danny.

“Also, congratulations, Fenton. Employee of the Month.”

Danny blinked, staring at the card like it might explode.

“Wait, what?”

The other employees cheered, some clapping him on the back, and one of them whistled.

Jason smirked. “Try not to act so surprised.”

Danny laughed, flipping the card over. “Dude, I didn’t even know we had an Employee of the Month program.”

“We didn’t,” Jason said, shrugging. “I made it up just now. Figured if anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

Danny shook his head with a laugh, pocketing the card. “Guess I’ll have to live up to the honor.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t start slacking now.”

Danny grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.”

The dinner wrapped up, employees slowly filtering out, until it was just Jason and Danny left at the booth. The waitress had stopped by to clear the plates, and now it was just the two of them nursing sodas, the restaurant quieter as the night stretched on.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Danny said after a moment, twirling his straw in his drink.

Jason leaned back in the booth. “Yeah, I did.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

Jason sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know I give you crap all the time, but you work hard. Harder than most people I know. You keep this place running, you step up when no one else does, and—” He hesitated, then exhaled. “I appreciate it.”

Danny blinked.

Jason groaned. “God, don’t make me say it again.”

Danny grinned. “No, no, I got it. Just… wow. High praise from the great Jason Todd.”

Jason smirked. “Don’t get used to it, Fenton.”

Danny chuckled, but then his expression softened. “You know, I used to think work was just something you had to do. But ever since I started here, it’s felt… different. Like I can actually slow down. Be normal for once.”

Jason studied him. There was something in Danny’s voice—something heavy, like he was carrying way more weight than just a college job.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, tilting his head. “That bad before?”

Danny hesitated, then shrugged. “Just… a lot of responsibility. A lot of people counting on me. Back home, I was always in the middle of everything, fixing messes, keeping people safe. And I never had a choice—I just had to do it.”

Jason understood that all too well.

Danny exhaled. “But here? It’s different. The Fun Zone’s insane, but at least no one’s expecting me to save the world. I can just be… me.”

Jason nodded, watching him carefully. “You ever think about telling me what’s really going on with you?”

Danny stiffened for just a second—too quick for most people to catch, but Jason wasn’t most people.

Danny laughed, but it was forced. “No clue what you mean.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “You suck at lying.”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Jason didn’t push further, even though every instinct told him Danny was hiding something big. Instead, he took a sip of his soda and leaned back in his chair.

“Well,” Jason said, watching Danny carefully, “if you ever do want to talk… I’m not as much of an asshole as people think.”

Danny looked at him, surprised, then smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jason smirked, standing up and stretching. “Good. Now get your ass home before I start regretting that Employee of the Month thing.”

Danny saluted lazily. “Yes, sir.”

Jason rolled his eyes, tossing a few bills onto the table for the check. As they walked out of the diner, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Danny had more to say.

But for now, Jason would wait.

Because one way or another, he was going to figure this kid out.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne had been in enough fights, wars, and near-death situations to recognize when something was… off.

Jason had been off for a while.

Sure, he had been doing better than he had in the past. His violent vendetta against Gotham’s crime families had cooled, and reports of Red Hood’s more lethal brand of justice had been fewer and further between. But Jason was still Jason—prickly, volatile, and unpredictable. And no matter how many times Bruce had tried to check in on him, Jason always kept his distance.

So when Bruce learned that Jason had been running a family-friendly arcade, he had almost assumed it was a joke.

But here he was.

Standing in The Fun Zone.

And instead of finding Jason glaring at him from behind some dingy desk, ready to tell him to get lost, Bruce was instead met with a sight he hadn’t seen in years.

Jason was laughing.

Bruce stepped inside quietly, moving with the practiced ease of a man used to going unseen. The arcade was still open but slowing down for the night, the crowds thinning out. He spotted Jason leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching as a young man—Danny, Bruce assumed—ranted animatedly about something while sorting a stack of prize tickets.

“—so then this kid—who, by the way, was like, six—just looks me dead in the eyes and goes, ‘You’re a scammer.’”

Jason snorted, shaking his head. “Harsh.”

Danny waved a hand. “Right? Like, dude, I don’t set the ticket prices! You think I’m secretly hoarding all the giant stuffed animals in some back room?”

Jason smirked. “I would believe it.”

Danny gasped, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Boss, I thought we had trust.”

Jason chuckled, tossing a stray token into a cup. “Nah, trust doesn’t exist in The Fun Zone.”

Bruce watched from the entrance, stunned.

Jason looked… content.

Not faking it. Not posturing. Not masking his emotions behind sharp words and cocky bravado. Just—relaxed.

It had been years since Bruce had seen Jason like this.

Bruce hadn’t intended to be noticed—he was simply observing. But Jason, ever aware of his surroundings, suddenly glanced up and locked eyes with him.

Jason didn’t need Bruce Wayne checking up on him.

He especially didn’t need Bruce skulking around The Fun Zone like some kind of overgrown, rich cryptid, sticking out like a sore thumb among the neon lights and sticky arcade floors.

Yet, here he was.

Jason had been enjoying a relatively peaceful night—no major fights, no machines breaking down, and miraculously no kids getting stuck in the ball pit. He’d been chatting with Danny behind the ticket counter, half-listening to some rant about skee-ball scammers, when a familiar presence sent every nerve in his body on high alert.

Years of training, paranoia, and Gotham’s general bullshit had made Jason hyper-aware of when he was being watched. And right now? He was definitely being watched.

His head snapped toward the entrance—just in time to see Bruce Wayne standing just inside the arcade.

Jason’s mood immediately soured.

Of course.

Because why wouldn’t Bruce decide to check in on him like he was some lost kid who needed monitoring?

Jason exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Danny blinked, following his gaze. “Wait—is that Bruce Wayne?”

Jason groaned, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Danny squinted. “Why does he look like he just wandered into a Bass Pro Shop by accident?”

Jason smirked despite himself. “Because he doesn’t belong here.”

Bruce hadn’t moved, his sharp blue eyes scanning the arcade like he was analyzing every detail. Jason wasn’t sure if he was calculating exits, threats, or just judging the hell out of his life choices, but either way, Jason was already pissed.

Bruce made his way toward the ticket counter, moving with the kind of presence that made people notice him. Jason had to fight the urge to scowl.

“Jason,” Bruce greeted, his voice even.

Jason crossed his arms. “Bruce.”

Danny glanced between them, sensing the tension. “Sooo… you two know each other?”

Jason exhaled through his nose. “Danny, meet Bruce. Bruce, Danny.”

Danny’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, that Bruce? The ‘guy with way too much money’ Bruce?”

Jason smirked. “That’s the one.”

Danny gave Bruce an exaggerated once-over before turning back to Jason. “And what, he just randomly shows up to critique your life choices?”

Jason snorted. “You have no idea.”

Bruce, ever composed, simply studied Jason with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. “I wanted to check in.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Did you? Or did you just want to stand there looking disappointed in me?”

Danny’s eyes darted between them again. “Sooo, should I… go do literally anything else?”

Jason waved him off. “Yeah, take five. I’ll handle this.”

Danny saluted lazily and wandered off, but not before muttering, “Rich Fruit Loops”

Jason turned back to Bruce, crossing his arms again. “Alright, let’s hear it. What is it this time? You think I’m ‘wasting my potential?’ You mad I’m not running around shooting criminals tonight?”

Bruce sighed. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

Jason scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me. You don’t exactly casually drop into arcades.”

Bruce studied him for a moment. “You seem… content here.”

Jason blinked, thrown off by the statement. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Yeah? So what?”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “It’s not what I expected for you.”

Jason tensed, the anger bubbling back up. “Yeah, well, you never expect me to do anything that isn’t punching criminals or getting myself killed.”

Bruce exhaled through his nose. “That’s not true.”

Jason laughed dryly. “Isn’t it?”

There was a beat of silence. Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver, but there was something softer there. Something Jason didn’t want to deal with.

Bruce took a step closer. “I meant what I said. You do seem content here. I just wanted to see for myself.”

Jason frowned, suspicion creeping in. “You seriously just came to check in?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes.”

Jason studied him, searching for any sign of bullshit.

But Bruce wasn’t lying.

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus, you could’ve just called.”

Bruce smirked slightly. “You would’ve ignored it.”

“…Okay, fair.”

Bruce glanced around the arcade again, as if still trying to understand why Jason was here, of all places. “You’re really happy?”

Jason hesitated, looking around as well. The flashing neon lights, the sound of arcade machines, the faint smell of pizza and candy. Danny was in the background, laughing about something, throwing a handful of prize tickets at another employee.

Jason let out a breath.

“…Yeah. I am.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Good.”

Jason blinked. “That’s it?”

Bruce met his gaze. “That’s it.”

Jason scoffed, shaking his head. “You really know how to keep things dramatic, old man.”

Bruce actually huffed a small laugh. “I wonder where you get it from.”

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Bruce glanced toward the exit, then back at Jason. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “That easy, huh?”

Bruce gave him a small nod. “I don’t need to fix what isn’t broken.”

Jason… didn’t know how to respond to that.

Instead, he just shrugged. “See you around, Bruce.”

Bruce gave him one last look before turning and walking toward the exit, disappearing into Gotham’s night like he always did.

Jason let out a long breath.

And then, from behind him, Danny’s voice:

“Sooo, that was definitely some deep father-son tension right there.”

Jason groaned. “Danny, I swear to God.”

Chapter Text

Jason had seen a lot of weird people come through The Fun Zone.

Criminals, gangsters, rogues—hell, even Killer Croc had dropped by to try and win a stuffed crocodile from the claw machine. But nothing in Gotham had prepared him for this guy.

Jason had been doing his usual rounds—making sure nothing was on fire, no kids were throwing hands over arcade tickets—when he noticed Danny standing behind the ticket counter, stiff as a damn board.

Jason frowned.

Danny was usually too comfortable around him, throwing out sarcasm and smirks like they were candy. But now? Now he looked like he wanted to disappear.

Jason followed his line of sight—and immediately understood why.

Standing near the prize counter, examining the Fun Zone with an air of detached amusement, was Vlad Masters.

Jason clenched his jaw. He knew this guy.

Wayne Galas, business deals, political maneuvering—Vlad Masters was one of those people. The kind Bruce always kept an eye on but never trusted. Jason had never liked him, either.

And judging by the way Danny looked like he was about to be sick, Jason figured he had good reason.

Jason didn’t waste time. He strolled over, planting himself between Danny and Vlad, arms crossed.

“Can I help you, Mr. Masters?”

Vlad looked at him, mildly surprised, then smiled. It was the kind of fake polite smile Jason had seen on rich assholes a hundred times before.

“Ah, Jason Todd,” Vlad said smoothly. “I must say, I didn’t expect you to be running a place like this.”

Jason kept his expression blank. “And I didn’t expect a billionaire to show up at a family arcade. So what do you want?”

Vlad chuckled, but there was something sharp behind it. His gaze flickered past Jason, locking onto Danny.

“I was simply stopping by to see an old… acquaintance,” Vlad said, voice dripping with amusement.

Danny flinched.

Jason caught it.

His stomach twisted.

He had never seen Danny like this—scared. Not frustrated, not annoyed, not playfully pissed. Scared.

Jason’s eyes darkened.

“That so?” Jason said, his tone ice-cold. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re making my employee very uncomfortable.”

Vlad smiled, but his eyes were calculating. “I have nothing but the best intentions.”

Jason’s grip tightened. “Yeah? Well, I don’t.”

Vlad sighed, feigning disappointment. “Pity. I would have thought someone with your background would understand the importance of a mentor checking in on his—”

“Don’t.”

Danny’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a knife.

Jason glanced back. Danny’s fists were clenched at his sides, his breathing shallow, his eyes locked onto Vlad like he was staring down a nightmare.

Jason turned back to Vlad, stepping closer, lowering his voice to something dangerous.

“Leave.”

Vlad tilted his head, amused. “And if I don’t?”

Jason’s smirk was pure venom. “Then we see how many of your teeth end up on the floor before security drags you out.”

Vlad studied him for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “No need for such hostility.”

Jason didn’t blink.

Vlad turned to Danny one last time, his smirk curling. “We’ll talk soon, little badger.”

Danny visibly recoiled.

Jason had enough.

He stepped right into Vlad’s space, voice low and deadly. “Get. Out.”

For the first time, something flickered in Vlad’s expression. Not fear, exactly, but recognition.

Jason wasn’t bluffing.

Vlad exhaled, smoothing down his suit. “Very well.”

He turned and walked out, the arcade lights casting long shadows behind him.

Jason didn’t relax until the doors swung shut.

The moment Vlad was gone, Danny sucked in a sharp breath, stumbling back against the counter.

His hands were shaking.

Jason immediately turned around, all his frustration melting into concern.

“Hey—Danny.” He reached out, but Danny flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. His breathing was too fast, too uneven, like he was drowning in air.

Jason cursed under his breath. Panic attack.

“Alright, okay,” Jason said, voice low and even. He didn’t move closer, but he kept talking. “You’re safe. He’s gone.”

Danny still wasn’t responding.

Jason glanced around. The other employees were busy, no customers were nearby—good.

He leaned against the counter next to Danny, not touching him, just there.

“Breathe, man,” Jason murmured. “In for four, hold for four, out for four. You know the drill.”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut tighter, but he obeyed—taking a shaky breath in, holding it, then exhaling slowly.

They repeated it. Again. And again.

Eventually, Danny’s shoulders slumped. His hands were still trembling, but his breathing was more even.

Jason exhaled in relief. “You back with me?”

Danny let out a weak, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Jason frowned. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”

Danny swallowed, still staring at the floor. “…He’s from my past.”

Jason waited.

Danny hesitated, then sighed. “It’s… complicated.”

Jason tensed. He hated that word. It usually meant bad.

“He was a mentor?” Jason guessed.

Danny let out a bitter laugh. “Something like that. He used to be in my life. A lot. And it wasn’t good.”

Jason didn’t push, but his fingers twitched with the need to do something.

To hurt something.

To make Vlad Masters disappear.

Instead, he exhaled sharply. “He’s not getting near you again.”

Danny looked up, startled. “What?”

Jason’s eyes were hard. “I don’t care who he is, what he wants, or how much money he has. You don’t want him in your life? Then he’s gone.”

Danny blinked. “You have no idea what he's capable of.”

Jason’s smirk was sharp. “Don’t need to. You’re my employee. He messes with you, he messes with me.”

Danny’s expression wavered between disbelief and something grateful.

Jason sighed, ruffling his hair roughly. “Now, get your ass to the break room and drink some water. That’s an order.”

Danny snorted, swatting his hand away. “Yes, sir.”

Jason smirked, watching him walk off.

Then he turned toward the arcade doors, eyes dark.

If Vlad Masters thought he could haunt Danny in Gotham, he had another thing coming.

Chapter Text

Jason Todd had taken down a lot of scumbags in his time.

Crime lords, corrupt politicians, human traffickers—you name it. He had a very particular skill set for dealing with people who thought they were untouchable. And Vlad Masters?

Yeah. He was exactly the kind of bastard Jason wanted to bury.

Jason sat in his office at The Fun Zone, leaning back in his chair, twirling a stray arcade token between his fingers. The neon hum of the arcade outside buzzed through the walls, but his focus was entirely on the new problem at hand.

Vlad Masters had walked into Jason’s place, threatened his employee, and strutted out like he still owned the damn world.

And Danny?

Jason had seen a lot of reactions to fear—anger, defiance, terror—but Danny’s reaction to Vlad had been something else entirely. It was the kind of fear that had roots. The kind that didn’t fade overnight.

Which meant Vlad needed to go.

The only question was how.

Jason had spent enough time working under Batman to know you never hit a target blind. He already knew the basics about Masters—billionaire, shady businessman, played the media like a violin.

But that wasn’t enough.

Jason needed dirt.

Real, actionable dirt.

Something that would let him either pull Masters out into the open or make him disappear without a trace.

Jason tapped a message into his burner phone and sent it off to a very reliable source.

Red Hood: Need a full background check on Vlad Masters. Everything. And I mean everything.

A few minutes later, a response.

Oracle: Feeling nosy tonight?

Red Hood: Feeling murderous tonight.

Oracle: …Noted. Give me a few hours.

Jason smirked. He loved when things got moving.

No one got that rich without making enemies.

Vlad Masters wasn’t just a corrupt billionaire—Jason could feel there was something deeper. The way Danny had reacted to him? That wasn’t just old business ties. That was personal.

Jason needed to figure out why.

He could interrogate Masters’ old business partners, lean on a few Gotham underworld sources, maybe even do a little home invasion if the bastard had anything juicy stashed away.

Or, if he was feeling extra reckless, he could just grab Masters himself and see how persuasive a night with Red Hood could be.

Jason grinned darkly at the thought.

But no—not yet.

There was a smarter way to do this.

Jason was good at finding weaknesses. It was one of his best skills, right up there with shooting people who deserved it.

And Masters? He had weaknesses.

He had a public image to maintain. He was a “philanthropist,” a businessman, someone who relied on reputation to keep himself in power.

So Jason could do this one of two ways:

1. Destroy Vlad publicly. Drag all his secrets into the light. Get Gotham’s elite to turn on him. Leak his worst crimes to the media. Break him without firing a single bullet.

2. Make him disappear. Clean. Silent. No body. Just another rich man who got in too deep and vanished one day.

Jason liked option two better.

The problem was, Jason didn’t know exactly what Masters had done to Danny.

But Jason did know that whatever it was, it had left scars. And that? That pissed him off.

Jason drummed his fingers against his desk. He could go in guns blazing, but that wasn’t smart. Masters was a slippery bastard. He had resources.

So Jason needed to be careful.

He needed to be patient.

He needed to make Vlad suffer.

A slow, creeping paranoia. A series of small, unexplained incidents. Money vanishing from accounts. Deals falling through. Documents leaking. Mysterious messages appearing where they shouldn’t.

Masters would never know what hit him.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse—when his entire empire was on the verge of crumbling—that’s when Jason would show up.

A gun to his head. A smirk on his face.

And then?

Well.

Jason hadn’t decided yet if Masters would live to see the next sunrise.

Danny didn’t know Jason was planning any of this.

And maybe that was for the best.

For now.

But Jason wasn’t stupid. He knew Danny wasn’t telling him everything. And if Masters had that kind of grip on his past, then Jason needed to be ready when the other shoe dropped.

Because Jason wasn’t just going to protect Danny as his boss.

He was going to protect Danny as his friend.

And if Vlad Masters thought he could haunt Danny in Gotham?

He was about to learn what real nightmares looked like.

Chapter Text

Tim Drake prided himself on being thorough.

When Oracle called him out of nowhere, urgent, concerned, and completely rattled, Tim had already pulled three monitors online before she even finished saying “Amity Park.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Barbara’s voice came sharp over the comms. “It’s a total blackout. I can’t get anything out of the town. Not even municipal records. No traffic cams, no data points. The place might as well be a black hole.”

Tim’s fingers danced across his keyboard as he brought up satellite images, scrubbed data logs, and tried every known backdoor into government systems.

“Alright,” Tim murmured. “That’s impossible. No town just goes completely off the grid without a trace.”

“I know.” Oracle’s voice tightened. “That’s what scares me.”

Tim bit his lip. If Barbara Gordon was admitting that...

Yeah. This was bad.

An hour later, Tim was staring at the most stubborn, frustrating, infuriating firewall he had ever encountered.

Whoever had built this system wasn’t just good. They were obscenely good.

Every time Tim got close to breaking through, the program adapted. Shifted. Countered his input.

It was like playing chess with someone who already knew every move he was going to make.

On his fourth attempt, a taunting message popped up on the screen:

“👑 You’ve been warned. Stay out of Amity. – The Pharaoh 👑”

Tim stared at the message, blinking.

“The Pharaoh?” he muttered under his breath.

Barbara’s voice cut in over comms. “What was that?”

“I just got stonewalled by someone calling themselves The Pharaoh.” Tim leaned back, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know who the hell this guy is, but he’s good. Like, ‘I hate to admit it’ good.”

Barbara went quiet. “Red Hood’s going to lose his mind.”

“Yeah,” Tim muttered. “I can already hear the gun cocking.”

Tim refused to give up.

He kept pushing—probing side servers, combing through archived data, watching dark web chatter for any hint of Amity Park or The Pharaoh.

And then, by sheer luck—or skill—Tim got one sliver.

An old video file. Poor quality. Unlabeled. Likely something The Pharaoh had overlooked because it was buried under years of corrupted metadata.

Tim pulled it up.

The video crackled to life: grainy footage of a glowing white-haired figure with neon green eyes, floating above a devastated city street. Wraith-like, hands charged with raw green energy as it ripped apart some monstrous, shadowy entity.

For a full five seconds, Tim could only stare.

“…Holy sh*t,” he whispered.

A shaky voice from the camera crew whispered “Phantom… it’s Phantom…” just before the footage cut to black.

Tim froze. Phantom.

Who the hell was Phantom?

Tim sat back, breathing hard.

A completely off-grid town. A hacker strong enough to keep out Oracle and him. A glowing, floating, clearly not human figure protecting the streets.

All of it in the same place that Jason’s new employee, Danny Fenton—quiet, twitchy, weirdly evasive Danny—had grown up in.

Tim closed his laptop slowly.

“Oh… Jason’s gonna lose it."

Barbara’s voice crackled back in. “Anything?”

Tim swallowed. “Yeah. I think I know why Amity’s locked down. There’s something in that town. Something supernatural. They call it Phantom.”

“Supernatural?” Oracle repeated grimly.

“Yeah.” Tim stared at the frozen image of Phantom on his screen. “And if Jason’s gut is right about Masters being tied to this town… I think he just walked into something way bigger than any of us expected.”

There was a long pause on the line.

“Do we tell him?” Barbara asked.

Tim sighed. “We have to. But we’d better be ready to hold him back. You know how he gets.”

Another pause. Then Oracle replied grimly:

“Yeah. I know.”

As the line went dead, Tim stared again at the ghostly figure.

Phantom…

Something deep in Tim’s instincts whispered this wasn’t just another metahuman.

Whoever Phantom was, they weren’t just protecting Amity Park.

They were protecting its secrets.

And now Jason Todd was about to bulldoze his way into it.

Tim cracked his knuckles and sighed.

“Guess I’m taking a trip to Gotham’s weirdest arcade tomorrow.”