(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)
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Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1)
(Masterlist/subscription post)
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Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.
So far, everything was going to plan.
About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.
Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.
Danny’s hands were cold.
He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.
Now, though, his body was freezing.
Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.
He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.
The process was excruciating.
Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.
Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.
Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.
Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.
Danny stared down at his hands.
Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.
“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”
Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.
“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”
“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”
“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”
“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”
“What did he say?”
“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”
The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.
“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.
“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”
Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.
A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.
The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.
“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”
They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.
Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.
There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.
His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.
Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.
The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.
Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.
Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.
Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.
Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.
However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.
Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.
“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”
Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.
The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.
Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.
He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.
Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.
Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.
They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.
The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.
Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.
They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.
Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.
“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”
“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”
Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.
“Hurry up, then.”
Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.
He had to check.
“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”
Danny shook his head.
“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”
“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.
“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”
Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.
“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.
They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.
That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.
She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.
Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.
The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.
Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.
He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.
Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.
“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”
She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Danny?”
He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.
“I thought you were…”
“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”
Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.
They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.
“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”
Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.
Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.
Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.
His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.
The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.
They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.
Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.
He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.
Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.
Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.
The entire room went white.
Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.
Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…
Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.
It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.
The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.
Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.
They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.
As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.
Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.
Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.
“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”
Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.
Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.
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Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:
Steph (25):
Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)
Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)
Her worst trait really is her spitefulness
Cass (26)
Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.)
Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness.
Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)
Tim (24)
Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)
Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)
His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)
Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)
Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this).
Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)
His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)
Dick (17)
Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)
Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)
His worst trait actually is his anger issues.
Barbara (18)
Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)
Thinks her worst trait is her disability
Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)
Damian (16)
Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)
Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism
His worst trait actually is his perfectionism
Duke (16)
Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)
Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)
His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words
Jason (14)
Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne).
Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)
His worst trait actually is his reactiveness
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