Batman didn't know what to make of the petrified, careful boy that the team of protégés had discovered deep in the bowels of what could only be described as Hell on Earth.
When he had first heard the news that the target the Team was supposed to retrieve from the illegal lab was just a young, severely injured boy, he was immediately curious as to the reason the organization took a child kept him so long, and frankly it angered him that people could stoop to such merciless levels as to torture someone so young. Of course, being Batman, he had done additional research into the lab, trying to find out what exactly they did there and, more importantly, what they were trying to achieve with the misguided "research". Unfortunately, they didn't seem to keep much of their data digitally, so he wasn't able to find much about their motives or practices, but they did seem to have a few useful files that he was able to look at.
One of the useful files just so happened to be a file about the mysterious boy.
Hacking his way into the data, he had little trouble getting past the first few firewalls, however couldn't get further without the safe guard wiping the hard drive. Luckily, he was able to decode some basic information.
Project H-01
Name: Fenton, Daniel James
Gender: Male
Age acquired: 4 years
Species: Halfa
Acquired from:
Fenton, Madeline (eliminated)
Fenton, Jackson (eliminated)
Fenton, Jasmine (location unknown)
Origin: Unknown
Notes: Human DNA type doesn't match Fenton DNA
Suddenly the file glitched before abruptly closing and a pop up error appeared on the screen.
"Shit." The Dark Knight muttered while his fingers flew over the keyboard as he frantically tried to override the safe guard that was set up to protect the information.
Fortunately, even though the virus deleted most of the information, he managed to save the small amount of data he could get. Leaning back with a sigh of mostly relief and a bit of frustration, he printed the file out and left the batcave.
He had a halfa to question.
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Have you ever felt the feeling of complete and utter helplessness? Ultimate vulnerability? The feeling of knowing that something bad could happen to you and you wouldn't be able to do a single thing about it? The eerie feeling of impending doom is a natural instinct instilled into the very wiring of human beings, or beings similar in intellect to humans. Call it a gut feeling, or the "lizard brain" if you will.
Danny, as he sat in the bright room, lit artificially with fluorescent lights that hung over head, didn't feel the chilling sensation of danger.
That's never happened before. It was always a heavy presence within his consciousness, buzzing insistently in the back of his head, sharply spiking to alert him that someone was coming, something was about to happen, get ready, get ready, get ready, getready, getready, getreadygetreadygetready--
--but strangely, that hadn't happened since he woke up in this new room with new people where he was on a bed and being helped.
That ever present sensation that had practically defined his existence was gone, and although that should be a good sign, he still didn't like it. It's absence was not just noticeable to him, but all consuming as he worried that he would be caught off guard and that made him uneasy, nervous, helpless. He had no way of telling when someone was coming and the anticipation was killing him.
So he felt like it was justifiable action to jump a foot in the air at the sound of the heavy door to the room he was staying in swing open.
Turning sharply towards the commotion, he spotted the man in black - Batman - and three new people. If you can call them that, seeing as he didn't think humans wore clothes like that. What was with these people and tights?
They circled Batman, as if he were the leader, and the word Alpha resurfaced in his mind at the sight.
On Batman's right stood a muscular man that stood slightly taller than the Dark Knight, and he had black, slicked-back hair. He was clothed in an armor-like blue and red spandex with a red cape (was that how everyone dressed? Or was it some sort of costume? Has fashion really changed that much during the three years since he's been in modern society?). On the red-and-blue man's chest was a red, styled "S" inside of a yellow diamond.
Next to him stood a woman who wore similar colored clothes, however her outfit was streaked with a lot more metallic, shining gold. She had long black hair that was partially held back by what seemed to be a tiara or headband of some kind. She wore a mini-skirt and knee high boots, her forearms were encased in golden metal, and she had a lasso (possibly even a whip, which made him want to shrink back from her) strapped to her hip. He could almost say that the man and woman were related, but they sent off different auras. Neither were human, but they were not of the same species nonetheless.
And finally there was a lean man dressed head to toe in a neon red that matched Kid Flash. In fact, from the clothing design to the symbol, he bore a remarkable resemblance to Kid Flash, so Danny could only assume this was his mentor. He also had the same amount of electricity buzzing throughout his form that the Halfa could sense in the teen, but it was clearly stronger and more experienced. Oddly though, the power didn't feel threatening to Danny, it actually gave off the sense of cheerfulness and protection.
The boy slowly lowered himself from his perch in the upper right hand corner of the room, the closest and safest place to be when taken by surprise seeing as one had to fly to get there and it hid some of him in the shadows. The man in red stared wide eyed at the unintentional display of power from the eleven-year-old half ghost.
"Woah, little man. You can fly?!"
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Batman watched the young child flinch at the loud outburst before narrowing his eyes at the group of heroes and cocking his head to the side in confusion like a confused but wary puppy.
The Caped Crusader turned a mild Bat Glare at the red speedster, who then closed his mouth with a quiet click and looked apologetically towards the boy. Batman cleared his throat, gaining the sharp gaze and unnervingly intense focus of those unnaturally glowing green eyes.
"Daniel Fenton?" Batman could practically see the walls shooting up as the prepubescent child tensed in suspicion but the Dark Knight continued, seemingly unperturbed.
"Daniel James Fenton, that is your name, right?" He asked without looking away from the unblinking gaze of the other, both fighting for control and trying to get a read on the other. The boy eventually ended their stalemate and responded with one sharp nod.
"We have a few questions." A quiet, almost too quiet to hear, defensive growl emitted from the boy's throat. Superman, hearing the growl, took a small step forward to direct the boy's attention towards him. As expected, the green gaze shifted from the Dark Knight and snapped to him.
"Nothing bad. We don't want to hurt you, we just want some answers. We promise, you're safe now." He said gently to the kid, who in turn got out of his defensive stance and relaxed a bit. He cocked his head again, silently agreeing to the terms presented by Superman, and gave a soft nod of his head in indication of his cooperation. At the nonverbal cues, the four moved slightly more into the room, being careful not to get too close.
"How old are you?" Batman started.
"Eleven." The boy promptly answered.
"Where are your parents?" Superman cut in.
"Dead." Looks of sadness and pity and one pained grimace from Flash crossed their faces.
"Do you have any siblings, any family left at all?" Superman continued.
"No sibling. Not anymore. Gone." The boy answered in his accented and choppy english.
"Why do they call you 'Phantom'?" Batman asked, remembering the only piece of information the boy had given when they had first encountered him conscious and lucid.
The boy cocked his head once more in confusion, a motion the others noticed he did quite often, and scanned the room looking for any sign of a joke or insincerity from the group of adults.
"Halfa." He said as if they should know what that means. He pointed to himself to further emphasize what he couldn't put into many words.
"What's a Halfa?" Flash blurted out after it was clear no one was going to continue. Danny would laugh at the similarities between the two speedsters if he weren't so thrown off at the question.
They didn't know?
Before he could properly think it through, Danny answered honestly.
"Half-ghost. Half dead. Halfa."
A long silence followed and Danny began to get increasingly worried.
All in all, he decided to blame his sudden lack of filter on the dizzying feeling of painkillers, he's not used to drugs or sedatives. Ignoring the fact that it isn't really doing much due to his heightened metabolism, it's still clearly doing something, so he's obviously not in the right state of mind to think his actions all the way through. You'd think that his limited English would make him less likely to tell his state of being and deepest secret to anyone who asks, but evidently not because here they were. Him and the four strangers, staring at each other, daring the other to make a move.
The silence drew on from seconds to minutes.
The man in red opened his mouth to respond.
And that's where all hell broke loose.