Bird-bats VS Clowns the electric boogaloo ( ft. King Phantom)

Damien is strong, but he can't hold out forever.

The tattoos have him in a corner. Many civilians have escaped, leaving him to guard around a dozen or so as Dick and the Furry–Man keeps the clowns occupied. He's swatting at them with a large metal stick – is that a bo staff?? – as if they're flies.

" What's the plan," I ask

"Hmm, I go left, hood goes right; you had up the middle," says Tim with a shrug and heads off in his designated direction.

I ask Jason, "Are his plans always like that?" but he's already gone.

With that, I keep going straight down the middle, hoping that one of the tattoos ventures off in my direction. Just so Ahkii knows, he knows he's not alone, but luck would have it that it heads straight into Tim.

No, like, literally, this cat tattoo flies backward and runs straight into his chest. It turns around to see him, and its ectoplasm flares out like fur standing on end and lets out a high pitch " hiss," gaining the attention of the other tattoo, a motorcycle driven by a floating inflamed head.

Jason comes in from the other side, but I continue behind them, the civilians, two families, and a young couple cowering on the ground. I kneel and look them over, " are you all right? Can you move?"

The couple nods their heads, and I indicate with mine towards the exit, "Get going, don't stop until you make it somewhere safe." They hastily get up on shaking legs and tremble, holding each other.

A bang sounds from behind me. I looked back to see it was Jason. He was accurate, of course, but the bullet slid through, not leaving a mark. I look at the other families to see nothing, but a few scrapes, maybe a few forming bruises. They pick up the younger kids, herd the older ones, and follow the couple out.

Leaving just us and the performers in the tent.

I turn around to face the others to find them struggling to make a direct hit. I spin ectoplasm in my hand and turn it into two lassoes and throw them around each of the struggling tattoos, ' yeehaw motherfuckers,' to hold them in place. They struggle against the lassos as I call out, "The water, try the water!"

Tim has the cap off in seconds and starts flicking the water at them, making them flinch and cry. As Jason readies his gun, I reel them in more to keep them steady.

Bang

Bang

Each shot is a perfect bullseye, each going straight through. From the holes, their outermost layer of ectoplasm starts to peel away as if it's skinning itself. Dripping down into black and green ink that evaporates into the air, never hitting the ground.

Combining with the ambient ectoplasm in the air.

As if they never existed in the first place.

I turn to look at Dami to see if he has any injuries, to see him fine, just looking annoyed. He stands beside me and snips, " Could you not have done that sooner."

Tim's face scrunches up, preparing for an argument, as he puts his hands on his hips, but before he can open his mouth, I ask, "You okay?"

He gives me a look over, " I am adequate, and you?"

"I'm fine," I say, looking towards Dick and our father back to back, circled by clowns.

"What is that?" Damian asks, eyes narrowed towards the water bottles.

"Holy water," says Jason.

Damian looks at me questioningly, " Don't ask me; ask Tim; he had it in the car."

"It's in the emergency kit," Tim says as if that's normal to need an emergency.

"Why don't you give one of the bottles to Dami?" I ask Tim. Better to have two people use it than just one. Seeming to understand my logic, he grudgingly hands one over.

" And this will incapacitate them?" Damien asks.

" No, but it's going to have to do," I look over towards the clowns and turn to look at Jason, " You up for some more clowns?"

He's quiet momentarily and sighs, "You took out zipper face already?" I nod, and he walks toward the commotion, Not even waiting or attempting to make a plan. To top it off, Tim and Damian follow him, ready to join the fray. ' Ugh, does nobody plan things anymore?!' I think as I take up the rear.

I send a blast of ice toward each of them, sticking their feet to the ground, making them turn around and stare at me and a mixture of shock and bewilderment.

" Eyes, check his eyes," says Tim.

" Still baby blue," says Jason.

" You're going to see some red if you don't stop and think for a second," I say gruffly, " What's the plan?"

" We do not have the time for this," says Damien.

All they give me is silence, compelling me to pinch the bridge of my nose to stop my 'scary eyes™' from appearing. " We can't just go in with guns blazing and hope for the best." I point at Damian's water bottle, "You don't have a way to fight the ghosts, not without that, and we don't have enough to waste, not to mention accidental friendly fire."

" Then what do you suggest?" asks Damian.

" Bruce and Dick for physical blows, keeping them distracted while you and Tim douse them in Holy Water." I gesture to the fire breather, " and Jason takes care of him. Once he's done, he can help me with long range and working on containment." While I can't read the other two, Damian is expressionless, so I add in unsure, backtracking, "Unless you have a better idea?"

" It is adequate," ensures Dami.

I start walking over to Father and Dick when I hear a " hum hum" behind me to see Tim pointing at their feet.

" Oh, right," I say, my face burning red in embarrassment as I get rid of the ice. Then I immediately run towards the clowns and yell, "Remember the staff! Whatever you do, make sure to break the staff!"

I don't wait for confirmation before I launch myself at the closest clown. It's wearing the same outfit as the other, but instead of a zipper, he's charred. His skin is a mixture of black and scabby, looking green. He has a small tuft of hair on the back of his head and is covered in shards of glass. Coming out of each hole is lightly flowing ectoplasm, painting itself in its blood. I attach myself to him like a baby koala, making him lose balance and tumble over. Before he can react, I pull out a phantom thermos and point it at him, souping him inside ' ⅖.' The whine of the thermos starting up gains the attention of the other clowns, giving Damian a chance to join in.

It's like we're back there, like no time has passed, fighting together. Watching a mirror move in familiar ways, taking familiar stances, picking up on the same movements. Knowing and having the reassurance that someone can read my movements.

That they can match me completely.

Completing me in a way I didn't realize I missed, as for once, I'm whole.

I fight with him, and together we steadily soup the clowns; we fill one thermos. We keep going, fighting together back- to back- until we hear the telling signs of Jason. His gun rings out, 'Bang Bang Bang,' then silence. He joins us, and things take a turn for the better. It only takes a few minutes for us to fill up another Phantom thermos. It's not until I only see a couple more that I look down at the indicator on the third and final Phantom thermos, '⅗.'

Leaving only two clowns left.

But still no Lydia.

I move my way into earshot of Father, " Have you seen Lydia? Have you seen the ringmaster?"

He grunts in response.

The problem, I'm not fluent in grunting.

So instead, I inspect the arena. Tim and Damien work on one clown while Bruce and Dick work on the other. So I can't help but wonder, 'Where's Jason?' It's not until I look at the far side of the stands do I see him.

Standing across from Lydia.

He has his arm up, gun pointed straight at her, but he doesn't move. He just stands there like a statue. She's floating, looming over him, pointing the glowing red staff at him. She's moving her mouth, but I can't tell what she is saying; I can't stop myself from flying over to them. She gets closer and closer, and it's not until she's a forearms length away from him that I send a strong ectoblast at her. It does nothing but go straight through her. Seeing no other choice, I run into her, crashing into her side, taking my place in front of him, demanding, "Get away from him!" I say it obnoxiously loud, hopefully gaining the attention of the others.

" Phantom," She greets. Lydia smirks at me and tightens her grip on the staff, "or is it Prince Phantom nowadays?" She doesn't wait for an answer, "Are you enjoying my show, your highness?" she asks mockingly.

" What have you done," I demand.

" Oh, this," she says, waving her hand at our surroundings, " can you blame me? I was feeling nostalgic . Though seeing you here is certainly unexpected."

" Why would you do this? What's the point of this– This destruction?" I ask, inching closer to her. " What's your motive for doing this? Last time, you were working for Freakshow. You followed orders–" She interrupts me.

" Orders, no, I didn't follow orders. We were partners! Until you came along," she says, irate.

"Maybe, maybe not," I agree, my eyes flashing, "but have you fallen this far? Controlling ghosts– our kind– why?" I ask, my voice hard.

" Why not?" she retorts.

" Because it's wrong."

" Get off your high horse Phantom. With you, of all ghosts, you would think you'd understand. Given your track record," she says, huffing.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

" I'm tired. I'm tired, and I know you are too. Of this," she gestures to her staff, " of humans," she sneers. " They either don't know and dismiss us, acting as if we don't exist and those who do only see us as a thing, a source. A weapon, not people." She gets into my face, " For fucks sake, your town was crawling with them, those hunters. It's getting worse and worse," she says, pointing me in the chest, " and we're not going to get anywhere with a human loving fool like you on the throne." She yells, " You let them take us, to their little labs, to their factories, to their warehouses! They take, and they take, and they take, and they give nothing back. We're not coming back. Ghosts are gone from the zone; they're not in Walkers' prison. I've checked. They're being ended, Prince Phantom," she spits. " You're doing nothing, and I won't take it!"

" War is not the answer!" I retort, "They are in the wrong, I know. But we don't have the force to fight them–"

" So make a force, all these livings, they're just going to die eventually anyway. What's wrong with joining a little early," she asks rhetorically.

" We don't disturb the balance; we don't take those before their turn–"

" Why not the humans do it enough," she gestures to the others, causing my gaze to flicker. They are close enough to listen to everything, and they're getting closer. I can't help but watch– wait, what– is Damian seriously dipping the end of his bo staff into the water bottle– he swings it into the Clown's face, direct hit – that was unexpected.

"What about them?"

" Their state wasn't my doing. I found them this way. They were just there, in a lot weak , Unable to leave. If anything, I helped them, and I saw more and more in every city. The world is crawling in shades, but no more than that place, Gotham. So many freshly dead, still clinging to the Earth. Have they moved on? Have they made it to the realms? No. Whose fault do you think is that, Phantom? Cause I know it's not mine."

"We can't ferry them over. That's not how it works–"

" With war, there are always exceptions," she insists.

" But we're not at War."

" So you say, but not for their lack of trying."

"Look, I'm gathering help. I'm working towards getting those Acts removed. I released a decree months ago to temporarily restrict leaving the realms. I'm trying to keep us safe. But I can't do that when you do shit like this. How many deaths have you caused, having your performers attack the audience?"

"None. Tonight was the first," she admits, " but this one had to be special after all. It is not everyday royalty visits."

" And the human performers? I have sources that say they were recently part of another group?"

"They simply wished to," she smirks, " widen their Horizons."

" And the staff?" I question.

" You didn't simply believe Showenhower only had the one," she asks, pointing the glowing staff at me. It has no effect.

" One could hope," I say with a shrug.

" Oh well, I was hoping for two, but one's good enough," she says out of nowhere.

" what do you–" I say when I feel the gun barrel hit the back of my head.

I freeze.

"Jason–" I say, and I hear a click. I turn intangible and whip around to face him just as he pulls the trigger.

Calls of " Danny!" sound off throughout the tent.

" I'm fine," I call out as the bullets go through me. I look at Jason's eyes through his Domino to see them red, occasionally flickering to ectoplasm green, " fight it, Jason," I say to him as he takes another step toward me. "I'm so sorry about this," I say before I lunge at him and knock the gun out of his hand.

He staggers back, motion rigid, not fluid. Not like his normal self. Like the contortionist. " I need water," I yell to the group, hoping either Tim or Dami can break away.

I'm going, to be honest; I'm stuck. There's not much I can do. He has enough ectoplasm in his system that any attack I do will cause some serious damage, 'I don't want to risk it,' there's no telling what type of damage he'd take because of his status as a revenant.

I duck and dodge out of his way as he swings his arms and kicks at me. Forcing me closer to his gun. Behind me, Damian yells, "Duck," so I drop to the floor. He wacks Jason in the face with his holy water-drenched bo staff, causing him to be pushed back. I watch him flinch as the water hits him; I inspect all of him to catch– there.

The voodoo doll tattoo.

Damian's hit caused it to loosen its hold on Jason's body, coming out of it partly before forcing its way back in.

Causing Jason to slow down.

"Can you do that again, or better yet, can you just splash him with water?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow at me, "Is that smart? You said not to waste it."

" I have a plan. Try not to let Lydia see me," I say as I go behind Jason. Damien does as asked and flings water at him. It burns as it touches him, rising as steam. I wince in sympathy as he yelps, but it's all worth it. When the water hits him, the tattoo pops out again.

I grab it.

It's like I'm playing tug of war with an invisible force. It's determined to merge with him like a parasite. Too bad for it; I'm stronger. I rip the tattoo out of him and hit it with an ectoblast.

Burning It out of existence.

I look over at Lydia, but her expression hasn't changed; she hasn't noticed. I move to position myself in front of Jason, to look at his eyes to see them fading from red to green to blue, but his movements don't change. His eye color doesn't go unnoticed by Damien either, as he stops using the holy water.

" The gun," I whisper as we're all close, dodging and exchanging blows, " Jason, get the gun. Shoot the staff." He doesn't say a thing, not wanting to blow his cover, but he gives a slight nod in agreement. We let him push us back to get the gun.

"Now, isn't this a familiar sight," says Lydia, "Change the gun for a blaster, and it's like we never left Amity." If only she knew how right she was. The difference? This family means no harm.

Turns the safety off, points it at us, and pulls the trigger.

Bang

The sound of shattering glass fills the tent.

"No!" exclaims Lydia, "I had you; my tattoo had you; how?"

Jason snorts, "No offense, lady, but my brand of death juice is stronger than yours," his eyes flash green, " it was only a matter of time."

I look behind us, noticing the sound of fighting has stopped. Bruce, Dick, and Tim are standing over two clowns. Crying clowns, " Is it over? Is it over?" one asks.

While the other says with a sob, "I want to go home. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," tears flow down their face.

I take out my keychain and point the Phantom thermos at her, " Lydia, ringmaster of circus Gothica, you are under arrest for breaking a Royal Decree, unlawfully fleeing the realms, kidnapping, torture, and enslavement," My voice bellowing, " You will be sent to Walker's prison, for holding until your trial. You have the right to remain silent. Any statement you make can and will be used as evidence against you at trial. You also have the right to representation if you so choose to find an attorney. One will not be appointed to you," and I soup her right up.

I take a few long breaths to gather myself before making my way toward the clowns. They're both still crying, " shh," I say, comforting, "It's all right. It's all going to be all right now."

"Who are you?" one of them asks.

I look at Damien, Father, and the rest of my new siblings before ultimately deciding. I let a ring of light travel across my body, replacing my jeans and t-shirt. Replacing it is an armor-knitted black shirt and cargo pants. Along with glowing white gloves and boots. My hair turns white as snow, and it waves softly as if It's being played with by the wind. Above my head is a glowing crown made of iridescent icy crystals, and around my neck lies The Ring Of Rage attached to a chain, " I am Crown Prince Phantom, next in line for the crown of the infinite realms," They look at me with wide eyes, "also known as the afterlife."

I get them a gentle smile, "Don't fear; you've done nothing wrong."

" but those people, we–" says one of the clowns.

" did you choose to? Did you decide to hurt them because you wanted to, or were you made to," I asked rhetorically, already knowing the question.

" I didn't want to, but I still did," they sob.

" Which is of no fault of your own. Now if you don't mind, I have a couple questions," the clowns look at each other before looking back at me, " would you be comfortable answering them?"

They nod.

" Where are you from?" I ask, wanting to confirm Lydia's story.

" Gotham."

" Do you remember where you were before she took you?"

" Warehouse," one says with a shuddering breath, " it's where we…."

"It's okay," I say soothingly, " I understand you don't have to say it."

" The joker he-" he cuts himself off with a sob, "We blew up, all of us."

I take their hands, one each, "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I won't force you. Death has a very private thing for us. Don't force yourself on my account. Now," I say, looking at the one who pleaded to go home, " I can take you home to Gotham, but you'll be stronger now than you used to be. Humans might start to see you, or alternatively, once the remainder of Lydia's power leaves you, you may fade and move on. What would you like for me to do for you?"

" Home, please I just want to go home," says one of them.

I turn to the other, "And you?" But I didn't even need to ask.

The center of their body starts to glow, illuminating the tent in a soft glow, and their core starts to shine through their body. Their appearance starts to change, losing the dramatic effects of death. Their clothes change into soft white cotton clothes, and they start to fade. " Thank you," they say, holding my hand tightly. He looks at me with hope in his eyes, "Will it hurt to go there to fade?"

" No, not at all. You've earned this; it's time to rest, enjoy your peace."

" Thank you, Prince Phantom, for finding me, for finding us."

"No thanks is necessary," I say as their glow dies down, and they move on to the other side.

To their eternal rest.