Wayne doll house: demon children.
Idea: each of the batkids is theorised to have a different origin.
Thing is, there's so many of them. The oldest is actually the youngest in body. It seems to be able to share memories with those who follow. It changes design right before a new bat appears.
The hero in the town over is definitely one of them, but what's it doing over there?? Asking just gets non-answers.
What happened to the ones that the Joker tried to destroy? One - the oldest and smallest - came back, but different, whereas the other - the purple and orange one - came back for a while and then vanished again for good.
None of them seem to age??
The first, smallest, oldest, it seemed to be some sort of circus performer? It gave its acrobatics to the blue one when it arrived, grew clever and defensive. It gave that to the skull headed red one, focused on technology and detective work after the Incident. Then again, and again, and one time even the bat changed along with it, but though the bat returned to normal the little Robin didn't, and now it's just as stabby and creative as it is small and creepy.
It's a good sort of creepy now, after over a decade of beating up bad guys and comforting victims, Gotham has gotten used to it, but outsiders don't much like it.
The justice league have a different opinion.
They know, or at least can observe, that the... Souls? Brains? Programs? Switch around, that it's not memories but persons that bring the new bats to life.
They just don't know where batman gets them. The new one, especially, is very circumspect.
For all this talk of the blood son, all the bats calling it demon child with varying levels of fondness, the way batman doesn't deny the claims...
Thing is the bat doesn't have blood. Everyone's well aware of this by now. Whatever sulpheric black tar he and the bats leak probably-certainly isn't blood, or at least... Not anything with dna.
So... What blood?? If not the bat's, why does it tie the newest mind of Robin to him?
Captain marvel is the first to think of an idea.
A blood child of a demon for a blood ritual for a demon.
Constantine and Zatanna second the notion - it's perfectly possible. Reasonable, even. The bat admitted himself he had no way to procreate the way humans did, nor any interest in doing so. Wanting a legacy was perfectly normal.
Except he already had, what, seven, eight, nine kids? He loved all of them, it was clear, and he'd always seemed happy with them. He'd even sighed over how many he had, had rebuffed the teasing about getting more. The new Robin mind had been a surprise to everyone, and the old one in a new body had been a little salty about it.
So the new theory was that batman hadn't decided to get a new Robin. Maybe the old mind had been ejected unwillingly! It had happened at roughly the same time batman had gotten a new personality - maybe the incidents were related?
But if batman hadn't done the ritual... Who had?
Who would do something like that???
Cultists. Cultists would do something like that. But giving the bat a son unwillingly seemed... A very odd goal, even for that type.
So... Had they messed up? Had they tried to summon the bat with a blood sacrifice ritual, and summoned a demon instead? Had it partially worked? Was the bat susceptible to demon summonings?? Did the summoning damage his own mind/consciousness/soul in some way, and that led to the creation of the new demon child while the bat changed until he'd healed????
How kind of batman to take it in!
Tldr; the league thinks Robin V is a demon born/created through a failed summoning ritual involving blood sacrifice that made batman like puns until he healed. The truth is the canon events of Damian arriving at the manor only for b to get tossed into the time stream, becoming the Robin to nightwing-batman while Tim, who is much less annoyed about it than canon, focuses on getting him back. Lmao.
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Stand at the Edge
Prologue- Next
Ao3
Damian was irritated. This was not uncommon, surrounded as he was by idiots, but today especially he was, as Todd would so eloquently put it, pissed. This was because, for reasons utterly unknown, Greyson had gone insane, obsessively cleaning the spotless mansion (until Pennyworth ordered him to stop) and incessantly bothering him about his appearance, all because of an interrogation. Why Father had decided to hold this particular interrogation within the Manor itself was yet another source of Damien’s irritation. Apparently, the suspect’s emotional involvement with Todd justified the clear risk posed by allowing this stranger into their home, despite the fact that all background checks and past interviews showed him to be a clear and dangerous unknown. If anything, Todd’s involvement with the suspect only increased the likelihood of this “Danny Nightengale” being a danger to the family. Damian did not believe that Todd was an irrational madman in constant need of supervision Father seemed to think he was, but he did not pretend the man did not pose a possible threat. There was also the possibility that Nightengale recognized how deeply compromised Farther was when it came to Todd and was using him to gain access to the family, be it as the Bats or the Waynes. If that was the case, then Damien was sure Father would not mind granting a temporary reprieval of the No-kill rule. For the family’s safety, that is. Not because he cared about Todd or any of his other siblings or their feelings, thank you.
The main area of concern surrounding Nightengale was not what they had learned, but what they hadn't. So far, he had avoided all interviews with concerning success. Furthermore, no family member had actually managed to get a photo of him. Attempts to look him up showed only that he was a student at Gotham University studying Astrophysics and Aerospace engineering, that he had a sister named Jazmine who worked as a counselor within Arkem, which was concerning within it's own right, and that he had lived with said sister until moving in with Todd three months ago. Footwork provided a few more details, such as that he worked at the Iceberg Lounge as part of the band playing the violin and that he seemed to have a number of pet birds, specifically ravens, though these birds seemed to come and go as they pleased. Neighbors reported that he was pleasant enough, though there were a number of noise complaints regarding both the birds and his apparent activity as an engineer. What was truly concerning was the total informational whiteout predating his arrival in Gotham. The transcript he had used to get into university was a forgery, as was his social security number, birth certificate, and driver's license. He had no social media presence of any sort and there was no one they could talk to who had any idea where he was from. The same went for his sister, they were both complete blanks. What was most interesting, at least according to Drake, was that the photo used on the fake driver's license looked to have been doctored, as if someone had taken an old photo and artificially aged it. None of them could think of a reason someone would need to do that.
“I still do not understand why we are bringing Todd and Nightengale here.”
Damien said, doing his best to tie his tie himself with mediocre success.
“Because,” Bruce explained, stepping in to help and rescue the tie from Damien’s increasingly frustrated attempts, “he is dating Jason, and as his family, we have every reason to want to meet him.”
Damien raised a brow. That seemed unusually irrational of Father. Perhaps the presence of Todd in the equation was interfering more than he had expected.
“Given how slippery he has proven in the past,” he continued “this is our best opportunity to engage him while minimizing both his suspicion and his likelihood to run. Furthermore, he is far more likely to be forthcoming than he would be if operating on his own turf. This gives us the upper hand more than if we attempted to meet him elsewhere.”
That was better. If there was one thing Damien appreciated about Father, it was his direct, analytical nature. Meanwhile, Greyson shouted something about needing to hide all of the chairs. Suddenly there was a knock at the front door, and a loud bang as Greyson tripped himself attempting to open it. Pennyworth, appearing suddenly at the door when Damian could have sworn he was in the kitchen, opened it before Greyson had a chance to right himself. Standing there was Todd and, assumedly, Nightengale. It suddenly occurred to Damian that he had never actually seen the man up close before. He was tall, with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was thin as well, concerningly so, his joints sharp where the bones shone through. His skin was so pale, like freshly fallen snow or bleached bone. There was something terribly familiar about him, but so was probably any other pale man with black hair and blue eyes. As he grew closer, Damian noticed, snaking up Nightengale’s right arm and peaking up from the collar of his turtleneck, a Lichtenberg scar. Something in the back of his head stirred, but he couldn't think what it could possibly be. Greyson was shaking this man’s hand, offering some kind of greeting, but Damian couldn't hear it. Suddenly, Nightengale’s head snapped. Now he was looking right at Damian, his blue eyes boundless and staring as a grin stretched far wider across his face than should have been possible, wider even than the Joker and with teeth like a cat, sharp and predatory. He thought he maybe should have been frightened, though he wasn't sure why.
“Little Prince!”
Nightengale embraced Damian tightly, lifting him slightly off the ground. He wasn't sure how he had gotten so close so quickly. His skin was cold, but as comforting as an ice pack on an injury; the relief of a cold shower in the height of summer held in sharp and narrow arms. Something about this situation seemed wrong but he couldn't pin down just what it was.
“It's been so long! Look how big you’ve gotten. Ancients, the last time I saw you, you were just a shade!”
Wait. That was it.
“What do you mean, ‘last time’”
Damian willed his muscles to tense, his hands to clench into fists but they remained stubbornly relaxed.
“Dami, little light, ya sitti, don't you remember me?”
Nightengale gently set Damian and for a second he was blinded as the man was wreathed in rings of light bright as the sun. When the light faded the man had... changed. The most obvious shift was his hair, once black and now so blindingly white that it made his face shadowy and difficult to see, as well as luminescent, Lazarus green eyes, the sclera black as night. Rather than the simple black turtle neck and slacks he had come in, he was now wearing a black hazmat suit with a white belt holding what looked like an old-fashioned radio and, oddly, a thermos. He had white gloves, though they became sharp and claw-like at the tips. There were other, more subtle changes, such as how his skin grew grey, like someone who had been dead for hours, and the faint glow of the fractal Lichtenburg just visible through the suit. Damian became aware suddenly of pressure that had been building in his ears and only just released.
“No.”
“Oh...” the Man, he was not Nightengale, seemed to deflate.
“No... I... It's not... You can not.”
Damien was faintly aware that he was not making sense, but seeing that this made two of them, he felt little need to correct it. Finally, enough of his brain cells managed to collide for him to form a sentence.
“What are you doing here?”
“Damien,” Father said, careful to insert himself between his son and whoever, whatever, was floating just slightly off the ground before them, “who is this? How do you know him?”
“His name is Phantom. When I was a child, I would make up stories about him and the strange land he ruled.”
Hearing his name, Phantom smiled a much smaller, more hesitant smile than his Joker-esque grin from before. He waved slightly. Meanwhile, Father looked as if he were about to have an aneurysm. Looking about, that seemed to be the consensus amongst the onlookers, albeit Todd who laughed. Hard.
Tag Cultists
@mur-ururu @krzys2000 @soren1830 @fisticuffsatapplebees @emergentpanda-blog @heirxofxtime
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