#His parents are just a tiny bit overprotective since the whole reveal of I am actually half ghost thing

[bwabbitv3s]

Slade is left to hang up as all he can hear is muffled cursing, then clatter as the phone is set down, stomping, thump of a body hitting something soft, lastly the sound of muffled screaming into a pillow. He had higher expectations for them on dealing with this situation.

Slade ends up just shooting the kneecaps of a few GIW then scuffing the meta kid and taking them with him to Bludhaven. They put up a bit of a fight about it at fist, but once he grunts out that he is taking him to someone that can teach them to not die while doing this stuff they seem to calm down.

Danny meanwhile is really weirded out by this dude but decides to just wait it out. They don't have anything that can actual hurt him while a ghost. Plus the idea of having a potential mentor he can rub in Vlad's face is tempting. He can always just turn intangible and fly back home if needed.

Dick has the worst morning when at 3am Slade shows up to one of his safe houses with a kid. A scrawny teen with white hair, growing green eyes, and enough bruises to make even him sore. It was like looking into a horrible inverted mirror of himself at that age.

"They are your problem now." Slade says. Then he just walks away. Leaving Dick trying to remember how to breath as those words echo in his head.

"Hey can I use your phone to call my parents? I need to let them know they don't need to storm the GIW place or use the booomerang. They can just come get me from here. By the way what city is this?" Danny asks while walking into the apartment.

"Nightwing."

Dick froze halfway across a rooftop, the lights and gunshots of Bludhaven disappearing in an instant. A scowl flashed across his face, teeth clenched and bared, before he forced it back. His face smoothed back out and his voice took on a pleasant, amused tone. "Slade. How did you get this frequency?"

"Nevermind that," Slade scolded. "We have more important things that need discussing, and information to be revealed."

"Is this about Constantinople?" He asked with a lilt, propping one hand on his hip. "Because I thought I told you, those geese totally counted as villains and deserved arrest--"

"I found a child vigilante. What do I do with it?"

"Ex-cuse me?" His fist clenched. "Is this a trick question?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'what do I do with it?' You know what to do with it; you become its nemisis when their 15 and haunted them for the next decade." His voice was thinly-veiled rage. He couldn't stop himself from shaking. That poor kid, Slade has his sights set on them. He's going to torture that kid, or worse, and now I have to track Slade's trail back to wherever he found this kid--

"I can't do that! He's only eight years old!"

"What?"

"There's this eight year old meta brat running around a Mid-West town in his pajamas while adults shoot at him. There isn't a mentor in sight, and one of the kid's rogues has threatened to skin him. What. Do. I. Do?"