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Going Ghost! (Young Justice) Chapter 44: Charity Event (1)
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 17:39:39 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
For the majority of his time in Star City, Danny had adhered to a strict and almost militaristic routine. Each day followed the same demanding rhythm, a schedule he was expected to conform to without question.
After returning from grueling training sessions with Black Canary, his body would be sore and his mind exhausted, leaving him to collapse into bed with barely enough energy to shower. When he awoke, it was always the same: Dick and Bruce had already returned from their nocturnal activities, leaving no trace of their movements.
Throughout the day, Danny and Dick would accompany Bruce, shadowing his every move as they made their presence known throughout Star City. Whether it was attending public events, patrolling crime-ridden neighborhoods, or gathering intel, Bruce ensured they were always seen—but never truly known. The days were long and intense, and by the time night draped the city in shadow, Bruce and Dick would vanish just as swiftly as they had arrived. Slipping into the darkness like ghosts, they would return to Gotham, undetected and unseen, leaving Danny behind.
Rather than accompany them, Danny remained in Star City to continue his training with Black Canary. And truth be told, he didn’t entirely mind. Despite the punishing regimen, there was something deeply rewarding about her teaching. In just four days, Danny had learned more than he could’ve imagined—not only how to better control and wield his Ghostly Wail, but also how to stand his ground in hand-to-hand combat. Black Canary’s teaching was harsh but fair, precise and unrelenting, and it pushed him beyond limits he hadn’t realized he had.
But that structured routine, as unyielding as it was, didn’t last forever. It was over within the fifth day.
…
Location: Star City Hotel
Date: March 5th
Time: 4: 43 PM
…
Dick and Danny stood side by side in front of a tall, gilded mirror, the soft light from the chandelier above casting a golden hue over their matching tuxedos. Both were dressed in crisp black and white formalwear that gave them an air of elegance and refinement—an image of sophistication befitting Gotham’s elite. Their polished black dress shoes gleamed beneath them, and their black hair had been slicked back with near-identical precision, revealing strong jawlines and piercing blue eyes that were eerily similar. Even their blue ties were the same shade—striking against their white dress shirts and chosen to match their eyes with uncanny accuracy.
Facing one another, they adjusted each other’s suits with silent concentration—straightening lapels, smoothing out creases, brushing off invisible lint. It was an oddly intimate ritual, one they’d done more than a few times, and it always ended the same way.
“It’s like looking in a mirror,” they said at the same time.
But while their words matched, their expressions didn’t. Dick gave an exasperated sigh, accompanied by a crooked, tired smile that spoke of familiarity and mild annoyance. Danny, on the other hand, wore a smug smirk, clearly more amused by the resemblance than Dick was.
Rolling his eyes, Dick asked, “Do you have to say that every single time we do this?”
Danny scoffed. “Come on, man. You can’t honestly tell me it’s not weird how alike we look. It’s not just the hair or the eyes—it’s the whole package. And don’t even get me started on how much we both look like Bruce. Black hair, blue eyes? You’re telling me that doesn’t raise at least one eyebrow?”
Dick’s expression shifted, wariness etched into his features as if this were a conversation he’d tiptoed around before. He gave a small shake of his head. “Danny, black hair and blue eyes aren’t exactly rare genetic traits. A coincidence, sure—but that doesn’t mean we’re clones or something.”
Danny's shoulders slumped as he let out a breath, frustration evident in his voice. “Dick... we’re not even related. Not by blood, anyway. I mean, really, what are the chances? Sometimes it feels like fate’s got a weird sense of humor.”
In response, Dick simply gave Danny a gentle smack on the shoulder with the back of his hand, offering a lopsided grin as he turned on his heel. “Let’s just get this charity event over with, yeah? Bruce is probably checking his watch by now—and you know how he gets.”
Danny trailed behind, one hand slipping into his dress pants pocket while the other fidgeted with the knot of his tie. He tilted his head from side to side, grimacing. “Ugh, this thing is strangling me,” he muttered. “I swear I’ll never get used to wearing these penguin suits.”
His complaint echoed down the hallway as the two exited the room, stepping into the night of social obligations, glass smiles, and the ever-watchful presence of Bruce Wayne.
…
Danny and Dick sat across from Bruce inside the sleek, high-tech interior of the limousine. The ambient hum of the vehicle was a quiet backdrop to the tension slowly building in the confined space. Outside the tinted windows, Star City’s blurred lights streaked past, the skyline melting into a stream of color as the car sped along its route.
Bruce sat hunched slightly forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes narrowed at the tablet in front of him. The flickering screen cast a soft blue glow across his face, sharpening the seriousness of his expression.
Without looking up, he spoke in that ever-steady, controlled tone, “Here’s what I’ve been able to dig up regarding the recent activity involving the League of Assassins.”
He finally looked up, setting the tablet aside with a soft tap against the seat beside him.
“I’m telling you this not to alarm you,” he continued, locking eyes with both Danny and Dick, “but so that you’ll stay sharp. Do not let your guard down. This is more than a hit or a vendetta. It's something bigger.”
The weight in his words instantly straightened both boys' postures. Their casual demeanor melted away, replaced by the steely focus that came from training under the Bat himself.
Bruce went on. “The League isn’t targeting Green Arrow, like we originally suspected. Something about that last encounter felt off… so I did my own digging. Turns out, Oliver Queen isn’t even on their radar.”
He paused, the tension between them taut like a wire.
“They’re after an artifact,” Bruce said solemnly. “A mystical amulet rumored to possess extraordinary power.”
“A magic amulet?” Danny echoed, lifting an eyebrow. “Do you know what it is exactly? Or where it’s being kept?”
Bruce gave a slow nod, then gestured to the tablet. “I don’t know the full extent of its capabilities yet, only that it recently arrived in Star City. I've been combing through shipping manifests, antique catalogs—anything that’s passed through customs in the last week. So far, no solid lead.”
Danny leaned back slightly, a glint of curiosity—and mischief—in his eyes. “Okay, totally unrelated question. This charity event we’re headed to… does it, by chance, include some sort of high-society auction or bidding war?”
Bruce raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in topic, but his mind caught up fast. “How did you figure that out?”
Danny smirked. “Call it cliché awareness. We find out there’s a mysterious item the villains are after, and what do you know—suddenly there’s a fancy event full of priceless antiques and artifacts.”
He raised his hands theatrically to his face and gasped. “What’s this? A rare magical trinket just happens to be on display! And oh no—what’s this now? An ambush by the League of Assassins! Who could’ve possibly seen that coming?”
Bruce sighed, though a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes before he quickly buried it beneath his usual stoic mask. “As ridiculous as that sounds... you’re not wrong. We have to be prepared for exactly that scenario.”
A sudden soft jolt signaled the limo had come to a smooth stop. A second later, Alfred’s voice filtered through the intercom, crisp and professional. “Master Bruce, we’ve arrived.”
“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce replied, straightening his jacket. Moments later, the rear door swung open and Alfred was there in person, ever the impeccable chauffeur.
As Bruce stepped out of the car, a barrage of camera flashes exploded around him like a barrage of tiny fireworks. The paparazzi, held at bay by red velvet ropes and vigilant security, shouted his name, snapping photo after photo of Gotham’s most elusive billionaire.
He returned their chaos with a polished, practiced smile—cool, confident, effortless.
Behind him, Danny and Dick followed, stepping into the flashing frenzy with considerably less enthusiasm. They strolled casually, as if unfazed, though Danny squinted slightly under the relentless glare of the lights.
Dick leaned over as they walked, whispering. “Just so we’re clear—if they attack after the event is officially over, that still counts as my win.”
Danny gave him a look of mock pity, voice dipping into a babying tone. “Aw, is somebody getting cold feet already?”
Dick scoffed, adjusting his cufflinks. “I seriously hate you sometimes. Just letting you know.”
Danny winked. “I’ll survive.”
Before Dick could fire back, a loud voice called out from the crowd, “Bruce!”
They all turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man striding toward them with a charismatic smile. He had windswept blond hair, a neatly groomed goatee, and wore a sharp navy-blue suit that somehow managed to be both expensive and relaxed.
“Ollie!” Bruce greeted with genuine warmth, striding forward to meet him.
The two clasped hands and pulled each other into a half-hug, the kind shared by old friends. Their handshake lingered, firm and familiar, with a hand resting on each other's shoulder as cameras went into overdrive.
Danny squinted and raised a hand slightly to shield his eyes from the increasingly aggressive flashes. “Do they always have to go this hard?” he muttered under his breath.
Dick nodded beside him, already pulling on his best fake smile. “Welcome to the glitz and glamor, Danny.”
Comments
Green223
When Danny said "I'll survive." The ultimate rebuttal from Dick would have been something along the lines of. "Don't you already have one foot in the grave."
NaitSabes Selaravi
I like how close danny and dick are getting
