#Although I do like the idea of Ra's hiring the Fentons to make Danny
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ailithnight · 3 days ago
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Just gonna save these tags from OP cause they are
Gut Feeling
DPXDC
Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.
--
“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”
Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.
“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –
Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.
“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.
“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”
“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”
Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”
“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”
“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”
The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”
Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”
He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”
“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”
“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”
“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”
“Only Batman, no one else can help.”
“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”
“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”
“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”
“It’s personal.”
Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”
Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”
After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.
“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.
It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”
“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”
“Who?”
“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”
“Why?”
“Refuses to tell me.”
“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”
Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.
“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”
A beat of silence. “What?”
“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.
“And he wont say why he’s there?”
“No, and he demands to see you in person.”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”
Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”
“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.
The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.
Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”
“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”
“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.
All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”
The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”
Holy cow.
“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.
“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”
“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”
Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”
Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.
“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.
“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”
“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”
“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”
“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.
#Personally kinda prefer OP's intent with the Fenton Parents#Although I do like the idea of Ra's hiring the Fentons to make Danny#Perhaps even providing the DNA sample when the Fentons failed to collect some themselves#Although in that version I do find it hard to imagine Ra's ever fully abandoning that project#If only because he knows Danny could be useful fodder for throwing at Batman to psychologically fuck with him#But as for the Fenton parents#I do really really like the Loving but misguided Fenton parents#liketolaugh just doesn't quite push it as far as my personal angst tastes prefer#liketolaugh seems usually use the trope to reel the Fentons back#lighten their blows#Not quite redeem them but make them a touch more redeemable#if that makes sense#It's like pulling them up from a 40 grade in parenting all the way up to 65#Still failing but not as bad#But my favorite use of that trope is when it doesn't do that#When no matter how loving and doting and trying the Fentons are - its never enough#Their biases are too strong#They are too misguided#There is no amount of doing it right that makes up for all the ways they do it wrong#Cause raising a kid isn't graded by averages#The goods don't balance the bads#It's ranges and modes#The goods stay good and the bads stay bad and even outliers still matter#IDK I'm rambling now and I don't think it's better articulating my point here#Which is that I personally just like terrestrialnoob's Fenton parent characterization here#They hit that tiny bit harder to land in my personal sweet spot
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five-rivers · 4 years ago
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Prompt idea: Tucker and Dr. Jackson having a discussion and/or argument about ancient Egypt.
Mayyyyy be a little OOC for Dr. Jackson. For some reason I was able to find Hammond's voice but not his? Even though he was one of my favorite Stargate Characters? Incredible.
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"Dr. Jackson."
Daniel started, almost knocking his (empty) coffee cup off the table, and scattering several pieces of paper and books. He pulled a sticky note off his face before turning his full attention to General Hammond.
"What?"
"Another late night, I see."
Daniel waved vaguely at the books. "The ghoa'uld problem isn't going to solve itself." Although, if he were being honest, his main concern was Sha're in particular. Right now, he was going over legends from planets the ghoa'uld had more or less abandoned, comparing them to the mythology of ancient Egypt, cross-referencing carvings and inscriptions on extraterrestrial ruins with terrestrial ones with glimpses of active ghoa'uld sites.
Anything that might provide insight into how the ghoa'uld thought, into their history, into how they acted, into what moves they might make.
He had to squeeze time for this in between missions, because, of course, even he, bookworm that he was, knew that primary sources, accounts of living people, were so much more valuable--
But General Hammond was talking.
"I'm sorry, what?" asked Daniel.
General Hammond sighed. "I've gotten you an assistant."
"A what?"
"An assistant. We're also considering him for the linguist position with either SG-9 or SG-11, contingent on your recommendation."
"That, uh-" Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "That sounds more like you want me to train him, than that he's going to be my assistant."
"I just want to know whether or not he's up for it. He comes very highly recommended as a linguist and Egyptologist, and he has combat experience. It's a combination you don't see all too often, but going off-world isn't for everyone. If you happen to get him up to speed on off-world languages at the same time..." Hammond shrugged.
Daniel rubbed his face. "When do I meet him?"
"Now." Hammond took a step back and opened the door. "Mr. Foley, you can come in now."
Daniel felt his face twist into an expression of disgust and horror even as the other man lit up like a lightbulb.
"You!" said Daniel.
"You!" said Tucker Foley, gleefully.
"How did you know I worked here?"
"I had no idea! This is great! It's been years. Heard you were dead, didn't believe it. How's life? Looks like you found your aliens, huh?"
Daniel turned to Hammond. "You can't hire him," he said. "He's insane. He used to claim he was the reincarnation of Pharaoh Duulaman."
"Oh, come on, man, that was ages ago. And your theories were considered pretty fringe, too."
"I'd always get shoved next to him at talks and conferences, and he somehow made me look even more like a crackpot by association. And my theories were right."
"I know," said Foley, looking hurt. "I knew, then, too. That's why I tried to back you up."
"You were the exact opposite of backup," hissed Daniel.
"I... take it you two know each other," said Hammond. "Any other surprises I should know about?"
"My friend Danny Fenton works here. I don't know what he does, though."
"Danny F- Siler's civilian assistant? Wait, wait, wait, he's not your ghost hunting friend, is he? We do not have someone who believes in ghosts working on the Stargate."
"You believe in aliens," said Foley, now somewhat testy.
"I have seen aliens, with my own two eyes!"
"Well, I could say that about a lot of things!"
This would not help him find Sha're. In fact, it might even drive him to an early grave. He looked at Hammond imploringly.
Hammond raised his hands. "The two of you are both experts in your fields. I'm sure you can work things out." And then he left.
Traitor.
"So," drawled Foley, picking up one of Daniel's notebooks. "Tell me about your aliens. Do they really still speak Egyptian? Something that's recognizably Egyptian? That's some remarkable linguistic stability there."
Daniel snatched his notebook back. "Some of them do. The ghoa'uld are incredibly-" cruel, his mind supplied. He swallowed. "Long lived. The stability isn't as impressive as it seems."
"If you say so," said Foley. "I mean, I know my vocabulary changes from month to month, so..." He trailed off. "What about the rest of them?"
"What?"
"Some of them speak Egyptian, or one of the forms of Egyptian, we've got to go over that, I'm sure, what about the rest?"
Daniel waved a hand. "All sorts of different dialects. It does seem mostly to derive from Egyptian, with some other ancient languages thrown in... PIE roots."
"So their main point of contact with Earth was Egypt, but they interacted with other cultures?"
"Seems that way," said Daniel, grudgingly, collapsing back into his seat.
"You'd think they'd have more Chinese, just from numbers alone... Or maybe the reason certain cultures flourished while other failed is because of their influence?"
Daniel shrugged.
"If they had spaceships, why the reliance on the Stargate?"
"Ra wanted Earth for himself and hid it from the other system lords," said Daniel. "So when the gate was buried, there were no records."
"Makes some sense. Why didn't he ever come back?"
"The rebellion?"
"Sure, but he could have done, uh, what was the term? Orbital bombardment. Rebellions of people armed with spears aren't going to last long against something like that. Unless Ra died in the rebellion?"
"No, he only died a few years ago."
"Fair, fair, but that means something's missing. I mean, if I were him, you know, a dictator with spaceships, and there's a whole planet I've been getting resources from like that, I'm not going to take getting kicked out well."
"Maybe," said Daniel. "We'll probably never know for sure. It was thousands of years ago."
"Mhm," said Foley, contemplatively, his eyes slightly unfocused, as if he was staring off into the distance. He blinked. "Well," he said. "You're probably right."
"What, you're not going to make comments about how your past life would know?"
"Why would I? It isn't like you'd believe me, so it's beside the point. When was the last time you slept, anyway? Usually you aren't this curmudgeonly."
"I was sleeping, before you interrupted."
"You have a cot in here?"
"Yeah," said Daniel, not mentioning that he hadn't actually seen the cot in a while.
"Where? Actually, no, Danny does this all the time. You've got to sleep in a real bed."
"Give me that book," said Daniel, ignoring Foley. "If I've got to start teaching you ghoa'uld, I want to make it fast."
"That's cold."
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