Your gateway to endless inspiration
Hi just a short bit of an idea I had, totally non cannon, I basically had an idea and rolled with it,
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Danny Fenton had died and no one even noticed, no one even cared. At 14 he had stepped into the portal and he died, and he lived. He died a thousand times, and he lived. He was a halfa, a curious being one from myths. No one noticed, and he continued, to live, to fight, except he was dead. He killed Pariah Dark at sixteen. He fought with everything he had. He became a king, the ruler of the dead. But he was too alive for the dead and too dead for the living.
At sixteen he died screaming, he died a second time, and he did not come back. Danny Fenton died that day and Phantom remained, and no one mourned either of them. He escaped, he ran, and he gave up on the living. No he served the dead. He gave them peace. He mourned them. He solved their deaths and laid them to rest.
Perhaps he looked strange, but no one asked why he wore black, no one questioned his affinity for solving cases, they never did notice he was merely talking to the victim. He wasn't some genius detective. He was a dead man walking. He was asked for help eventually, a cold case in Gotham he was asked to take a look at, and he complied, he took the case, and smiled at the shades.
And the shades smiled back and they watched him with curious eyes. They were quieter than other shades Danny talked too, they didn't care about their murders they cared about their avengers. The Gotham shades didn't want revenge, for they had been avenged, by Dark Knight.
Really it was funny the way they talked about him, they were so terribly fond of him. Red Hood would be even more popular if not for the fact that he killed some of the shades. And those shades raged and whispered and plotted.
Robin had a good reputation, but the newest robin, he was fearful, he snapped and hissed, he was angry. Red Robin, who laughed and talked, who was ever so calm, he had the best reputation among the dead.
Even though they talked about the bats and birds, they still talked about their deaths, they gave him names and faces. It was a week after he'd come to Gotham that he finally reached the shade he needed to talk too. He didn't smile, he never smiled when dealing with the dead. "Pleasure to meet you, Tim Drake Wayne isn't it?"
The shades head snapped up, and Danny stared into icy blue eyes, "My name isn't Wayne!" he spits. Danny however is barely listening, the only thing he can think about is the domino mask on the shades face. Scratched and marred, covered in blood.
"I suppose not," Danny agrees still staring at the ruined suit, "I suppose this case is a dead end, assuming you died as robin?"
"Please, as if I was ever Robin, I was a place holder," he scoffs, "But who are you? Or perhaps what are you? After all you can see me and I'm dead," He asks curiously.
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Yeah not cannon at all, idk if I'll continue it but it was fun to write,
edit: oof the grammar in this? I like half edited it and am now cringing,
Bye :)