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Going Ghost! (Young Justice) Chapter 156: Late Night Chatter
🕑 Added 2025-12-13 23:51:59 +0000 UTC[Third Person Pov]
Superman crossed the distance between Metropolis and Gotham in the blink of an eye, the city skyline blurring beneath him as steel and stone gave way to shadow and spires. The moment he reached Gotham’s airspace, the familiar oppressive gloom settled in—heavy clouds, flickering lights, and rooftops that looked more like battlements than buildings.
He slowed just enough to take in the scene unfolding below.
Batman and Robin were locked in combat high above the streets, leaping and grappling across the rooftops as they battled a towering green spectral figure wielding a massive axe. The ghost hovered effortlessly in the air, its translucent form glowing with an eerie, sickly light that cut through the darkness. With every calculated swing of its weapon, the air screamed. One powerful arc of the axe carved straight through a concrete ledge, cleaving it as if it were paper and sending debris raining down into the alleyways below.
The specter surged forward, axe raised high, attacking with a ruthless precision that left little room for error. Batman dodged narrowly, cape snapping violently in the wind as he landed in a crouch. Robin, already anticipating the next move, withdrew a set of bolas from his utility belt. The weighted cords spun rapidly in his hands, glowing brighter and brighter as anti-ghost energy surged through them, casting a faint green light across the rooftop.
With a sharp throw, Robin hurled the bolas toward the specter.
But the ghost reacted instantly.
It shifted to the side midair and slashed through the glowing cords with a single clean strike of its axe. The bolas detonated in a burst of energy, the shockwave forcing Robin back a step as sparks and spectral residue scattered into the night.
Batman sprang forward, timing his move perfectly, ready to close the distance and end the exchange—
Before a sudden blast of freezing air swept across the battlefield.
Superman descended from above, eyes glowing faintly as he unleashed a powerful breath of arctic cold. The blast engulfed the specter completely, ice forming instantly around its intangible form. Against all expectations, the freezing temperatures were enough to lock even the ghost in place, encasing it in a jagged statue of frost suspended in midair.
The fight ended just like that.
Batman and Robin both froze—not from the cold, but from surprise—as they turned their attention toward the Man of Steel hovering nearby. Their reactions were identical in stillness, but not in meaning: curiosity mixed with immediate suspicion.
Batman straightened slowly, posture rigid. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t you still be in Metropolis cleaning up after yourself?”
Before Superman could answer, Robin pulled out his thermos, flipped it open, and aimed it toward the immobilized specter. With a press of a button, the ghost was sucked inside in a swirl of green light, leaving behind nothing but an empty ice sculpture that shattered moments later and vanished into frost.
Robin glanced around suddenly, eyes darting from rooftop to rooftop. “Where’s Danny?” he asked. “Is he with you?” His muscles tensed as he shifted into a defensive stance, half-expecting Danny to drop his invisibility at any second and jump out just to mess with him.
Superman floated down to the rooftop, boots touching the concrete with barely a sound. Batman’s expression hardened immediately—eyes narrowing into sharp slits, shoulders squaring as tension rolled off him in waves.
“What happened to Danny…?” Batman asked, his voice low and edged with warning.
“He’s recuperating right now,” Superman replied quickly, clasping his fingers together in front of him. “I came to find out if there’s anything I need to do to help him. If there’s some kind of ghost medicine, or treatment, or—something—I should be giving him.”
Silence followed.
Batman stared at Superman with a completely unreadable expression, his cowl hiding everything but cold scrutiny. Robin, meanwhile, twitched slightly, his mouth opening and closing as if he were holding back several comments at once.
“And you couldn’t have called first?” Batman finally said, his tone flat but laced with unmistakable exasperation. “Start from the beginning. What happened to Danny, and what’s his condition right now?”
Superman complied, recounting the day from the very start—training in the Arctic, pushing limits, and everything that followed. He explained their encounter with Technus in detail, his voice steady as he described the chaos, the damage, and finally Danny’s delirious episode.
Throughout the entire explanation, Batman’s expression never changed.
When Superman finished, Batman scoffed. “Don’t worry about him. Leave him be. He’s fine.”
“Wha—?” Superman blinked, clearly taken aback. “Come on, Bruce, don’t be heartless.”
Batman’s jaw clenched. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.” His teeth ground together, more emotion flashing through his voice than he’d shown at any point during the conversation. “And the reason I’m telling you not to worry is because Danny’s healing factor is strong. He doesn’t need anything except food and rest.”
“He’s right,” Robin chimed in. “That delirious episode you saw? It’s just a defense mechanism. Danny’s still developing his pain resistance. He’s not actually losing it.” He shrugged. “Honestly, the more pain he’s in, the dumber his jokes get.”
“I see…” Superman murmured.
His gaze drifted toward the horizon, eyes zooming past the cityscape, past streets and towers, locking onto a single hotel room in Metropolis. Inside, Danny sat cross-legged on the bed, phone lying beside him, a towel still draped over his head. He was laughing softly over the phone, relaxed and very much alive.
Superman let out a long, quiet sigh of relief.
Satisfied, Batman continued to watch him with a flat, unblinking stare. “If we’re done here,” he said, “you can go back to your city and leave me to mine. And next time you have a question—do us both a favor and call.”
“Hahaha…” Superman laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he lifted off once more.
…
“I really am sorry for ignoring your calls…” Danny said, his voice low and weighed down with genuine guilt. He lay back against the pillows, phone held loosely against his ear, staring up at the dim ceiling of the hotel room.
“I already told you it was fine, Danny. That I understood,” Sam replied. Even without seeing her, Danny could picture her perfectly—the subtle lift of her brow, the inevitable eye roll that came with her calm, unimpressed tone.
“Still…” Danny hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around his phone. “What if I made it up to you somehow?”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft, amused laugh. “Fine,” Sam said. “Get me a souvenir from Metropolis.”
Danny stiffened immediately. “...How did you know I was in Metropolis?” he asked, suddenly sitting upright on the bed, heart dropping straight into his stomach as he stared at his phone like it had betrayed him.
“Your location is on,” Sam replied flatly.
Danny groaned quietly and fell back onto the mattress. “I really should turn that off…” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat and continuing the conversation, trying—and failing—to sound casual.
Time slipped by as they talked, the conversation drifting lazily from one topic to the next. Eventually, Danny was sprawled out eagle-style across the bed, one arm dangling over the side, his eyelids growing heavier by the second as sleep pulled him under in slow, persistent waves.
“So… what are you up to?” he asked, his words slurring slightly as he fought to stay awake.
Sam glanced down at the massive, weathered book resting in her lap, its yellowed pages covered in intricate magical diagrams and handwritten annotations. The bed around her was a mess of loose sheets, notebooks, and hastily scribbled notes—evidence of all the research she’d been doing ever since Desiree’s spell had been broken.
“Just some light reading,” Sam said dryly.
Danny hummed in response, eyes finally sliding shut. He figured he didn’t need to keep them open to talk, or even to listen. Sam’s voice was enough to anchor him where he was.
They continued talking for a while longer, though Danny contributed less and less as exhaustion crept deeper into his bones. Sam noticed it immediately—how his responses slowed, how his breathing evened out, how her own voice softened unconsciously, turning almost into a whisper. It felt less like a conversation and more like a lullaby, her words gently tugging him toward sleep.
“Danny,” she said quietly, shaking her head with a small smile, “go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”
“Hm… alright,” Danny murmured, his thoughts already dissolving into half-formed dreams.
“Good night, Danny,” Sam whispered.
“Hmmm… good night, Sam,” he replied, his voice barely there as sleep finally claimed him. His exhaustion ran so deep that his mind didn’t even register the next words slipping out of his mouth, unfiltered and honest.
“...Love you,” he breathed.
The line went silent.
Sam froze, staring down at her phone in disbelief. Slowly, heat crept up her cheeks, turning them a soft shade of pink. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face behind the large book in her lap, heart pounding far louder than it had any right to.
“Love you too… you doofus,” she murmured softly.
Reaching over, she ended the call, still smiling to herself.
Comments
Rogue_Eagle99
Oh if he remembers his part only when he wakes up he’s gonna be so embarrassed
