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trappednyourheart · 10 months ago

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I swear I could feel the ending, where Danny successfully reunites Damian to the Batfam, Maddy and Jackie unravelling shit of secrets, Bruce and the atlanteans shitty racist cause the bums aren't researching enough, and in the end they will mostly shit Danny and maybe killed him and like drama and sad stuff then by Disney style one year of drop! Gets you revived from god!

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 21

MASTAPOST credit to @adonneniel, @brekitten and @bucketorandomness for all their help brianstorming. The scene with bruce has been a long time coming!

Walter Wekapipo puffed his second cigar of the day. Puff. Puff. Smoke filled his lungs, taking the edge off. Just another cold, damp day on a cold whaling boat in the middle of nowhere.

The captain shouted his orders. Walter got to it. He trawled to the back and grabbed some rope. He heaved. He hauled. The whale they got was a small one. Probably a baby. Should leave it alone. Let it grow big, but captain’s orders.

See, Walter saw himself as a morally complex man. You, dear readers, may consider him with disdain, He is a whaler! You may say. They are endangered species, you continue. And these are very valid points, for which this narrative will not only not judge you but appraise you for.

And Walter considered these points too. Sure they were pretty creatures, but they could always make more. People have been huntin’ whales for centuries. Millennia even. How could you blame him for needing to make a livin’?

No, who you should blame, Walter thought, was the rich pricks out on the East Coast. The assholes who run around in Armani and Gucci and drive fancy cars and do big speeches about the environment and then sneak off to Japan to try whale meat and raw horse. Bleugh.

What he could do with that kinda money…

But he didn’t have that kind of money, and you know? Mama always told him he needed to be happy first with what he got. So Walter picked up his harpoon gun, and dragged his feet to the side of the boat. A whale surfaced. There she was. Huge, meaty, tonnes of oil. Crying out like a bitch too. He remembered his mama crying out like a bitch every single day, till they institutionalised her. Poor mama.

Maybe in a better life, he wouldn’t be out here killing whales illegally. Walter didn’t really have the heart to fire the thing. Not really. But captain’s orders. And it was this or the streets.

Walter flicked his cigarette into the water. Time to get over with it. The captain yelled at him again. He knew he wasn’t getting’ fired. Boat was barely staffed as it was. Walter picked up his harpoon and took aim. So sorry, whaley-girl.

Something wet smacked into his cheek. Then it slid down his face, and dropped onto the floor. What in the world-?

Water slowly lowered his head. His half-smoked cigarette lay there innocently, chock fulla water.

Then came the most hideous, horrifyin’ screechin’ Walter had ever heard in his life.

May God have mercy on his tainted, tainted soul.

Damian opened his gills pre-emptively. He jumped out of the water at full speed, roaring the moment he surfaced. The first man, the repugnant one with the harpoon gun. He was to go down first. The poacher was too stunned to even move. Damian sank his teeth deep into the man’s hand, going deeper than his human bites had ever gone.

The man screeched like a distressed school girl. Damian did not relent. His opponent attempted to fling Damian off, but the small siren held firm. The man stumbled back, howling and trying his best to rid himself of the monstrous child.

The two men beside him shouted. They reached for their harpoons. Twin blue beams blasted them back. The ice bound them to the back wall, leaving only enough room to breathe and wiggle their fingers.

Damian moved to finish his opponent. Tired of the incessant screeching, Damian unhooked his teeth from the man’s arm. Raising his head to eye level, Damian matched the poacher’s terrified look with a hiss of his own. One firm head butt later, and he was down for the count.

And Damian was hardly done.

He may be without his grappling hook. He may be without his legs. But he was still Robin, and a Robin who could not adapt was no Robin at all.

Shouting erupted along the boat. Footsteps scrambled and ran in every which direction. Men rushed to where he was lying ‘prone’ on the deck. Let them come!

“You handle the right. I will decimate the left.” Damian shouted. Danny nodded, charging up another beam.

Damian held his sword in one hand, and activated the wrist ray on the other. The men hesitated.

“Come on mates. It’s just a baby! We could get rich selling it!” With that, the trio of sailors yelled and rallied, each of them carrying harpoons. Child’s play.

Damian coiled his tail, and jumped as a wound-up spring would. A harpoon fired. Damian fired back. The wrist ray’s beam hit true, and the harpoon flew off course. The siren boy continued his course, and latched onto the first man.

His movement came as fluid as gentle river. In one motion with one hand, a slash at the stomach. In another with the other hand, he launched himself at the next poacher. His second total victim fell to the floor like a sack of bricks, writhing and crying out. The second of the trio faltered. A fatal mistake. Damian went for the head. His tail wrapped around the disgusting human’s neck and squeezed. The third man lunged for him. Damian burned his feet with the wrist ray. Then he sent him flying back with a shot to the shoulder.

There were more men. Damian did not relent. He would not relent until nobody was standing, until they could no longer continue their dirty deeds.

His platform was beginning to lose consciousness. Damian slammed him behind the head with the hilt of his sword. As the man fell, Damian launched himself to the next person foolish enough to approach. Then the next, and then the next. Damian dodged and deflected harpoons. He leapt from person to person in a bloody game of leap frog, and when he ran out of people to jump to, he instead went for the crane in the centre of the boat. Damian clambered up the crane using nothing but his upper body strength, aided by his lighter weight.

The remainder of the men were cowering under shelter. It was foolish to think they could escape from him for long. A death rattled emerged, a warning for anyone who dared approach. A foolish man peeked from a window. The wrist ray burned off a patch of hair for his troubles.

Damian had no patience for these games. It seemed Danny had the same idea. The flashes of blue light ceased alongside the screaming. Oh how therapeutic the screaming was.

Before long, chaos emerged from even the cabin rooms. Looks like Danny had breached them. His opportunity granted, Damian dropped.

He landed on a hapless sailor. A slam to the back of the head had him slumping against the doorway. Damian leapt into the fray.

As soon as it had started, the bloodbath ended. Damian and Danny sat there in the bridge, surrounded by fallen poachers, still breathing, a small mercy. The boys panted heavily, their bodies not quite used to exertion over water. However, the deed was done.

“Has anyone told you you’re totally insane?” Danny asked.

Damian nodded breathlessly. “Many times.”

“High-five?”

Damian’s shoulders slumped. “Very well.”

They still had work to do. Danny tipped over a bucket of sea water on them both. “To keep our scales wet.” He said. Together, the sirens worked on freeing Dorothea. Damian cut the ropes, while Danny used his ice to smooth over the deck.

Damian laid his hand on her nose. He trilled his goodbyes. “Farewell, Dorothea. May you travel safely.”

With the ice acting like a smooth ramp, just a couple pushes were enough to slide Dorothea back into the water, safe and sound. Her mother sang to them in thanks. The whale pod departed soon after, leaving the two siren boys to the rest of the dirty work.

Damian emerged from the brig with rope. A lot of it. Danny worked on icing over the wounds inflicted by Damian’s rampage, many of which Damian would attest were well-earned. However, Damian did not intend to become a murderer again. Despite everything, he still wished to live up to his father’s ideals.

With the crew and captain rounded and tied up, that left another question.

“How are we gonna get these guys to the authorities?”

“We could always just sink the ship and allow them to perish.”

Danny crossed his arms, his face going flat. “No thanks.”

“It is simple. We emulate Basil the Second of the Eastern Roman Empire, who blinded 99 captured soldiers out of a hundred, and gouged out only one eye from the remaining one. Then he had the enemy soldiers return, led by the one-eyed men.”

Danny’s own eyes widened to dinner plates. His nictitating membranes flashed back and forth rapidly.

“I mean to say we allow one man to captain the ship home, while still heavily restrained.”

Danny’s body slumped in relief. “Oh thank god. I thought you were gonna actually try and do that.”

Damian bared his teeth at the crooks, who cowered as far as they could, tied up in rope and ice. “I would like to, but I am bound by higher principles these days.”

“Not concerning at all, but ok.”

Danny wisely chose to not press the issue. He chose someone relatively skinny, freed him out of the bunch. The scrawny man did not even try to flee. Damian’s sword made sure of that.

Just because they were allowing them to live did not mean they had to be nice. Land was less than a day away, so they could afford to be a little harsh. Damian tried the man wrists to the steering wheel, and Danny welded his feet to the floor. “Just so you don’t get any ideas, buddy.”

Danny patted the man on the shoulder, a gesture that was normally meant to encourage and provide support. The scrawny sailor trembled.

“Oh, Dami!” Danny perked up.

Damian’s fins rattled at the childish nickname.

“Now that we’re on a boat, we can call home.

That was… that was good news! Yes! He had completely forgot about that, lost in his righteous rage. That was the whole reason they’d ravaged the previous Atlantean town. Only the map had showed the nearest island to be thousands of miles away, and the coastline would have been too risky. Yes, this was good news indeed.

Damian put his sword to Scrawny’s throat.

Danny cleared his voice. “You might wanna give us your phone password, or my friend here is gonna make a sushi restaurant out of you.”

The man rattled off a series of numbers. Danny fished out his mobile phone, an old battered model, but functional.

“Here you go, Damian.”

Damian’s heart lightened. At last he could contact his father. Perhaps set up an extraction of some kind at the other end of Panama, or even earlier. This would be an enormous step towards bringing this adventure to an end, and returning back to Gotham where he was needed (and deep inside his heart, where he needed to be as well).

Damian slid the phone’s screen to unlock it, only for it to not work. Damian swiped the screen again.

“Why is this not working?” He rapidly rubbed the screen with his thumb, but the device did not respond.

“Oh yeah. These things are designed for human skin, which, uh, you know.” Danny showed his open palm, showing fingers coated in scores of tiny scales.

Damian looked to the side. He crawled up to one of the piles of tied-up poachers and came up to one fortunate enough to have been rendered unconscious. Damian yanked his arm forward, not caring for the deafening crack sound that motion created, and used the poacher’s human fingers to input the call for him.

An inelegant solution for an inelegant problem.

But that was no matter. Damian checked and double checked the numbers, making sure it was his father’s and nobody else’s. He took a deep breath, and pressed call.

Bruce Wayne sat on the back deck of the SAV, alone for the moment. The Fentons were just below, manning the controls. Apparently there was some kink in the system that was causing them to lose speed. Unsurprising, considering they had invented this whole new system in less than 48 hours. Or at least that was if Jasmine was to be believed.

The back deck sported an umbrella over a desk and a couple chairs for relaxation. On his tablet, Bruce carefully read the Fenton’s previous papers on sirens, a length catalogue dating back to over twenty years, when they were both in college.

In college with Vlad Masters, until he had disappeared, only to return grievously ill.

His phone rang. Bruce stared at the call. An unknown American number. He’d long ago stamped out the scam callers and telephone advertisers from ever bothering him or his family. The only person who could be calling this number was someone who knew it. Or at least someone who’d manually dialled it and wasn’t a scammer.

Hope began to swell. Surely it couldn’t be. It had to be Damian. Wasn’t it? No, he had to quash his hopes down. He had to stay focused.

Bruce answered the call.

“Hello, Bruce Wayne speaking. How may I help you?” His body tensed, hoping to God that it would be his son’s voice on the line, in the one and a million chance.

But what came through the line wasn’t his son’s voice. Or anyone’s voice. Instead, a series of frantic high-pitched trills, clicks and whistles came through. Almost like the caller put the phone next to an excited dolphin.

“Listen, I do not have time for any pranks. Who is calling me and why?” Bruce clenched his first. Of course he was a fool to get his hopes up.

Another frantic dolphin call. What a waste of time.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself for prank calling me.” The clicking went on in even more rapid succession, but Bruce ignored it. “Goodbye, and do not call this number again.”

Bruce hung up.

He hung his head in his hands, wishing for Damian to be back and safe. Wishing nobody had to be in danger.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #damian wayne #dcxdp #merman #merboy #mermaid au #angst #bruce wayne #oblivious bruce wayne #mer!danny fenton #mer!danny #mer!damian wayne #violence #i think im high or like a punp of energetic power xame through me so i think im not on the rught place of nindmind

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