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Going Ghost! (Young Justice) Chapter 104: Son and Father
🕑 Added 2025-08-19 15:19:45 +0000 UTC[Danny Fenton's Pov]
“Well, son, I think it’s about time I gifted you something I’ve been meaning to give you for a while,” Dad said, his large frame looming in the center of the lab, both hands hidden conspicuously behind his back.
The lab itself was a chaotic wonderland of half-finished gadgets, scattered tools, and glass flasks filled with strange experimental liquids that bubbled and smoked faintly. The faint hum of machinery thrummed in the background, making the whole place feel alive.
I tilted my head, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was hiding, before putting on my best puppy-dog face. “Is it… an increase in allowance?” I asked sweetly, batting my eyes.
See, the problem was simple—no Bruce Wayne meant no unlimited Bat-funds. No Batman, no bottomless bank account. Which meant me? I was stuck surviving on my sad little allowance. I had tasted the sweet nectar of luxury—shiny new gadgets, premium snacks, expensive clothes—and now going back to the bargain-bin lifestyle felt like punishment.
Dad’s response was anything but sympathetic. He threw his head back and let out a booming, almost maniacal laugh. “Hahahahaha!” His laughter echoed through the lab, bouncing off the metal walls before abruptly stopping. He straightened his posture, looked me dead in the eye with a flat expression, and said, “No.”
And then his grin came back.
“Ta-da!” he exclaimed proudly, whipping out what had to be the ugliest piece of clothing in the known universe. It was a bright, blinding, pumpkin-orange tracksuit that looked like it had crawled out of the seventies and died halfway into the eighties. “Behold! Your very own special tracksuit, meant to welcome you into the family ghost-hunting business!”
I stared at the monstrosity in his hands before replying as flatly as possible: “Dad. I love you. But I’m not wearing that.”
For starters, it wasn’t even close to my size. The sleeves and legs were ridiculously long, and the fabric looked like it had the texture of a sofa cover.
“Nonsense!” Dad said, brushing off my protest with a wave. “Here, let’s just try it on and see.”
Before I could object, he shoved the suit toward me. Everything went dark for a moment, and when the light returned, I found myself standing there, swallowed whole by the hideous tracksuit. My arms didn’t even poke out of the sleeves, and my legs were lost in the baggy folds of fabric. I looked like a kid who had been eaten by an orange beanbag chair.
I didn’t say a word. I just looked up at my dad, expressionless, silently begging the universe for mercy.
He responded with a thumbs-up, wearing the most awkward grin imaginable. “You’ll grow into it,” he said confidently.
I sighed, peeled myself out of the tracksuit, and tossed it back at him with a chuckle. His face was too earnest for me to stay mad. “Can we just go back to doing what we were doing? Please?” I asked.
Dad rubbed the back of his neck, his massive shoulders slumping sheepishly. “Sorry about that, kiddo. Guess I got a little carried away. Just… I’m so excited to have you interested in the family business, you know?” For a man his size, he looked almost bashful. At his core, he was just a giant teddy bear with a lab coat.
I couldn’t stay annoyed. Not when I remembered what we were working on. My eyes drifted back to the workstation in front of us, cluttered with tools, wires, and the latest invention we had been building side by side.
Sitting at the center was a small cube, no larger than the palm of my hand. Its surface was a dark grey, laced with faint glowing green lines that pulsed like veins of energy. We had spent a while piecing it together. We called it the containment cube.
Dad looked at me, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Want to add the finishing touches?”
A smile spread across my face. “You bet.”
I picked up the cube carefully, almost reverently, and connected the final wires before snapping the casing shut. The moment I clicked it into place, the cube gave a faint hum, vibrating in my hands like it was alive.
Once it was ready, we decided to test it. I pressed the button at the top and tossed it toward the open area of the lab.
Midair, the cube twisted and unfolded like a Rubik’s cube. It broke apart into five hovering pieces, each shooting out neon-green lines of energy that stretched and connected until they formed a much larger cube. The glowing walls shimmered with translucent energy, like giant panes of electrified glass. On one side, a circular opening appeared, almost like a mechanical mouth.
Dad and I walked toward the containment field, staring at it in awe. I gave one of the glowing panels a solid punch, expecting it to shatter, but instead the energy rippled outward in perfect waves. Not even a dent.
Dad’s eyes gleamed with fascination as he inspected the circular port. “Danny, adding the mouth to it was a brilliant idea.” He pulled out the Fenton Thermos, our tried-and-true ghost storage device, and lined its opening up with the port. With a twist and a click, it locked into place seamlessly.
“See?” he said proudly. “Perfect fit.”
I grinned, explaining my thought process with no small amount of pride. “I figured if the Thermos ever got too full, we’d need a backup. That’s what the containment cube’s for. We can offload captured ghosts into it as a temporary holding space. And if we ever catch something too strong for the Thermos alone, we can trap it inside the cube and then siphon it into the Thermos later.”
Dad ruffled my hair affectionately, his grin as wide as mine. “That’s my boy, Hahaha, as smart as your old man” he said warmly, his pride radiating off him like sunlight.
We laughed together, then slammed our palms together in a high five so strong it stung all the way up my arm. But it was worth it.
Dad took out the thermos while I pressed the recessed button near the containment cube’s “mouth.” Immediately, the shimmering green screens of energy flickered out of existence, the luminous lines retracting like threads being pulled back into a spool. Within seconds the large cage collapsed back into itself, folding neatly until it was once again just a small, unassuming cube resting in the palm of my hand.
“Wait until Dick and Bruce see this, they’re going to be—” I began, crouching to scoop the cube up from the floor. My words slowed as realization hit me like a gut punch. “…so… impressed…”
The weight of the cube suddenly felt heavier than it was. My fingers tightened around it, and I stared at the pulsing green veins running along its surface. For a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Damn it. My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I cursed myself silently.
“Danny?” Dad’s voice was gentle, worried, and when his large hand settled on my shoulder, I finally looked back at him. His brows were furrowed, his expression soft, and there was that familiar concern in his eyes.
I shook my head as I tried to give my best reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, It's nothing… Uh Dick and Bruce are the names of Sam's pet rat…”
‘I am so sorry everyone’ I inwardly apologized to them for that God awful lie.
Dad hesitated. “…Right. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed,” he said, and though he tried to sound supportive, the doubt in his tone was obvious. He wasn’t buying it. But to my relief, he didn’t press further. He turned away, lumbering back toward the workbench.
With his back to me, my smile faltered, dropping away until only the heaviness remained. I stared down at the cube in my hands. I’d been realizing it for a while now, but moments like this made it hit harder—I was starting to miss them.
I missed Dick.
I miss his stupid jokes, his constant attempts to get me out of my own head.
I missed Alfred—he was still here, technically, but not the same Alfred I remembered. There was something distant now, something hollow.
I even… I even miss Bruce… Although we were on bad terms that doesn't mean I wanted him dead.
As much as I idolized Batman and thought he could do anything, I knew he wasn't perfect. No one is. That goes for me as well.
All these days away from him is making me reflect on a lot of things. All the resentment I held for him is mostly non-existent now. I'm not saying my anger wasn't justified because I know it was, but it's just to a certain point.
Bruce made a mistake, I got angry, what's done is done and now he's gone… and I… and he's… He's not here so I could forgive him.
“Hey, Danny.” Dad’s voice cut through my spiral. He glanced back at me, reading my mood better than I wanted him to. “Why don’t we keep going? We’re on a roll right now. What other ideas do you have rattling around in that brain of yours?”
He was trying to cheer me up, and for his sake, I pushed the sadness down and put on another smile. I walked up beside him and said, “Well… I’ve been thinking about a few things. Like a motorcycle. I’ll call it… The Fenton-Bike.”
“Nice! Excellent naming choice!” Dad’s booming laugh filled the lab, and he clapped a massive hand down on my shoulder so hard I nearly toppled over.
Grinning, I added, “I was also thinking about developing a specialized sleeping gas that works on ghosts. Made using vaporized ectoplasm.”
Dad froze mid-thought, blinking. “Chemical warfare against ghosts…” His expression shifted into frustration, and he smacked a palm to his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”
I smirked as he eyed me suspiciously. “You know,” he said slowly, “you’re turning out to be a dangerous menace.”
I thrust my fist into the air with a dramatic grin. “All ghosts shall fear the Fenton family name!”
“Hahahaha! Now that’s what I like to hear! Let them know, son!!”
---
[Third Person POV]
The two Fentons bent over their latest concoction—a beaker bubbling with eerie green vapors. They had carefully mixed the vaporized ectoplasm with stabilizing agents, but the mixture didn’t look quite right.
Danny and Jack exchanged a glance. The gas rising from the beaker was thicker than expected, curling upward like a living thing. The bubbles popped faster, the mixture frothing at the surface.
“…Darn,” they muttered at the same time.
BOOOOOOM!
The beaker exploded, belching out a cloud of ghostly sleeping gas that rolled through the lab in seconds. Jack reacted instinctively, diving and tackling Danny out of the way as the glass shattered. Both were immediately swallowed by the pale-green mist.
“Cough—cough! D-darn it!” Jack wheezed, swiping the gas from his face. His eyes were already drooping. He swayed, giggling like a fool. “It’s nighty-night time…” he mumbled before toppling flat on his back.
Danny staggered upright, hacking as the dizziness hit him in waves. “You know what…” he slurred, wobbling like a spinning top, “I think I’m joining you…” He collapsed right on top of his father, both of them unconscious in a heap.
Minutes later, Maddie and Jazz stepped into the lab wearing heavy-duty gas masks. They fanned the lingering smoke away, only to find the disaster’s casualties lying in the middle of the floor. Danny snuggled against Jack’s chest, drooling slightly, while Jack had one arm thrown protectively over his son as they both snored.
Jazz blinked, then slowly pulled out her phone. Holding it landscape, she positioned the shot and snapped a picture with a loud click. The flash reflected off the remaining smoke, capturing the ridiculous sight perfectly.
“Heheh,” Jazz snickered, glancing at her mom.
“Young lady,” Maddie said with a mock glare, her own amusement obvious behind the mask, “you’d better send me that picture immediately. I want a copy.”
Jazz grinned. “Sure thing, Mom.” She started dragging her brother by the ankles while Maddie hefted Jack with practiced ease.
The two women giggled their way up the stairs, leaving behind the faint hiss of ectoplasmic vapor and the unmistakable evidence that when Jack and Danny teamed up… chaos was always inevitable.
Comments
Green223
Good thing that picture will be erased when the timeline reverts to normal
Bryan Vargas
There's the 4 corner pieces and the 5th piece makes the mouth part where the Thermos goes
Ugly
Do you have any references I could look up for the cube? I don’t understand how 5 pieces makes a cube
