(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)
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Tw: N/A
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)
(Masterlist/subscription post)
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It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.
And Danny hated it.
He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.
In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.
After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.
He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.
Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.
Right. Scarecrow.
His escape.
The chase.
His mom.
“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”
“Oh.”
After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.
“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”
Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!
“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”
“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”
“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”
“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”
Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.
Danny sat down.
“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”
Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.
“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”
“Oh,” Danny said.
He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.
Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.
Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.
It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.
Tucker.
Amity park.
Home.
Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.
He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.
Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.
“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”
Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.
He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.
At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.
Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.
Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.
It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.
Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.
He was not about to cry.
“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”
He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.
Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.
He read the report again.
And again.
And again.
Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.
“What?”
“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”
Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.
“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.
“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”
“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”
“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”
Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.
“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”
“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”
But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”
“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”
“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”
Dr. Crane sighed.
“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”
“…Why?”
“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”
Danny paused.
“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”
“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”
Danny snorted.
“You care about laws now?”
“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”
Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.
“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”
“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”
Danny nodded. He could live with that.
“Alright, then let’s get to work.”
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4 for the wip asks :)
Thank you so much!! :D
Sincerely, Me is a very rough WIP name for this WIP fic. It takes place in the universe of the musical Dear Evan Hansen, and it came about because I had the biggest desire in the world to write something Kleinsen-related (Evan Hansen x Jared Kleinman). It actually technically takes place in the movie universe, and I don't even particularly like the movie (I have thoughts). I don't hate it or anything, but it could've been done so much better. Anyway, I made it part of the movie universe so some good content could come from there. So, I guess I'd have to call it Kalsen (Evan Hansen x Jared Kalwani) because they changed his last name for the movie.
It's mainly centered around their daughter, Paige, and her best friend, Tyrone. Paige is Cis and Panromantic, and Tyrone is Trans Masc and Straight. They were definitely a fun duo to write, even though I didn't write that much for this fic. I was actually planning on it being a big, multi-chapter fic, but I might just try to make it a Oneshot so I can just finish it and post it. I'm not sure I can make it a big, multi-chapter fic with this concept, anyway.
Here's a little excerpt for you:
She didn’t answer, opting instead to glance at the trees. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention Jared being Indian first.”
She was well aware of his distaste for her calling her dads by their first names. In her opinion, it was entertaining watching his mouth become agape whenever she did this, so sometimes she’d do it on purpose. It never mattered to her--it was sometimes necessary, to distinguish them, and the two of them weren’t fretful of this habit. However, Tyrone always suggested she call Evan “Dad” and Jared “Pitā” instead, which is the Hindi word for Father.
She never listened to this advice.
Tyrone began chasing a pebble with his shoe, “Well, he mentions being Jewish a lot more than he does being Indian.”
She sighed, crossing her arms as a sudden, harsh breeze cut through them, “I guess you’re not wrong.”
He didn’t stop harassing the pebble even when they approached her house. It was pretty average, as far as regular houses in suburbia went, being all beige and harsh corners, as well as a roof sharp enough to poke Santa on his journey every Christmas (she stole that joke from Jared).
Annnnd here's another excerpt that comes a little later!
“Paige?” She heard an all-too familiar voice float from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, Dad.” She began striding towards the source as Tyrone shot her a look. “It’s not as if I call them by their first names all the time.”
Jared was perched over the stove, nursing a bottle of water as he continued frying something on a pan. He enjoyed nursing a bottle of alcohol instead on some late nights, but he was trying to consume less for Bri’s sake. “Sorry about your sister. I thought she was going to be napping around now, but I guess it was my mistake assuming she would do anything I expect.”
Paige let out a snicker, “It’s fine, you know Ty loves her anyway.”
She leaned closer, trying to sneak a peek at his latest concoction, “I thought you wouldn’t be home. What is that?”
“I took the day off. It’s Rosh Hashanah, remember? This is chicken breast with leeks and potatoes. Your dad should be coming home soon from the park.”
Paige felt her hand connecting hard with her face, “Oh God. Oh no. I can’t believe I forgot!”
A strength she always prided herself on was her ability to remember dates more so than everyone else in her family. The fact this one slipped by her was frustrating, to say the least--not to mention Rosh Hashanah was always her favorite Jewish holiday to celebrate. Perhaps Grace was making her more distracted than she first thought.
She turned towards Tyrone, “I’m sorry, I still can’t believe I forgot about this. I was hoping we’d be able to hang out tonight.”
“Well, I can’t see why he can’t stay for dinner.”
Her mouth agape, she turned on her heel to face Jared again, “Who are you and what have you done with my father?”
When he gave her a questioning look, she continued, “You’ve never let anyone stay over for Rosh Hashanah. It’s family time.”
Tyrone gasped, bouncing on the toes of his feet, “Does this mean… you consider me family?”
Paige grit her teeth and elbowed her friend, a fruitless attempt to calm him. One of the things that annoyed Jared the most was people who weren’t part of the family trying to insert themselves into their tight-knight dynamic. Sure, it seemed for a while Tyrone was the exception, but it was still thin ice to tread. A reason why was because someone else, someone older, tried doing the same some time back, and ended up uprooting all of their lives once it was revealed they were a no-good scam-artist. And, for irony’s sake, that person ended up being Grace’s current foster father.
Just for some context, Bri is Paige's little sister (So Evan and Jared have two daughters) and Grace is Paige and Tyrone's bully (mostly Paige's). And I was planning on having it be revealed to Paige the first time all of the events of the musical (Connor's death, The Connor Project, Evan's speech, etc.), which was never mentioned to her before because Evan and Jared were too embarrassed by it all. They kind of wanted to sweep it under the rug, which evidently wasn't the best way to handle the situation.
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