Congratulations, it's a Human Sacrifice! Ch 7

[themoosejthm]

 This and then one last chapter and this fic will be finished!

A link to the whole fic on AO3. 

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“Why am I not surprised you're from Gotham?” Tucker asked as he lined up his shot.

“You'd think it was my accent, but I bet it was my bike that gave it away, huh?” Johnny 13 responded, leaning on his club. Tucker snorted and then hit the ball, watching it soar through the air before it landed in front of the small windmill with its annoying creaking hinges.

“You call that a shot?!” Kitty asked loudly from her spot atop the dome keeping a group of teens contained. The eight other kids all went to Casper High and were a part of the wrestling team.

“Do I look like someone who plays white kid golf?!” Tucker shouted back.

“Putt Putt is not white kid golf!” Johnny whined.

“You're right – it's rich white kid golf!” Tucker snapped back.

“Nerd's got a point!” Billy, the oldest member of the wrestling team, said loudly.

“You're really going to call the guy trying to free you a nerd?” Johnny commented idly. His club caught on fire, the flames a glowing orange, and when he hit his ball it shot out of sight like a comet.

“Eh, our curfew isn't until 10, we got time.” Billy said after an impressed whistle. Johnny preened as the other members of the wresting team gave impressed hollers at his shot. Tucker rolled his eyes – he's really out here being called a nerd by people on a team called the Casper Twisters; there was no justice in the world, clearly.

Tucker stepped up to where his ball was and took a swing at just the right moment, sending the little ball into the last hole. Kitty cheered and flew over to her boyfriend, throwing her arms around him in joy.

“I WIN! I WIN!” She squealed. Johnny wrapped his arms around her and huffed – with that shot, Kitty had the most points and did indeed win the game.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya sugar. Good game, Tech Nerd.” Johnny tossed out to Tucker.

“Yeah, sure, you wanna let the wrestling team go?” Tucker asked as his PDA chimed a warning at them all.

“Oh, c'mon, do I have to?” Johnny whined. He gave Kitty a kiss on the cheek while Tucker snorted.

“I mean, those idiots playing MIB are on their way here so you could just dip and let the cage disperse naturally.” Tucker commented as he typed a few commands so he could pull up the cameras in the parking lot and office up. The parking lot had a white van with agents stepping out of it and the camera in the office was showing two agents heading into the play area with the bulky guns at the ready.

“Oh, man, already? They're worse than your brother was at crashing our dates, sweet-pea.” Johnny commented to Kitty as his shadow twisted to reveal his signature bike.

“At least my brother did it out of affection – those jackasses are just prudes, always stepping in before things get interesting.” Kitty commented and her hair writhed as her eyes started to glow. Tucker wondered, not for the first time, if Kitty had been a meta when she was alive.

“Then let's book it to somewhere more cozy.” Johnny said as he swung Kitty up onto his bike. She laughed as he climbed up behind her, leaning close to start his bike. Kitty settled back against his chest and as the bike tore off into the sky, Tucker caught the tail end of Kitty's voice going husky before the wind took them away.

“Hey, Foley, can you get us out of here?” David asked as he pressed against the glowing bars of the cage. David had apparently gotten some kind of award at regionals or state or whatever it was that the wresting team did – it made the morning announcements for the last week.

“Nah, man, you're gonna have to wait for it to vanish or for Phantom to let you out if he comes by.” Tucker said as he locked his PDA and listened to the agents get closer. He didn't have the skill to get out of here without them running after him so he stepped over to wait near the cage.

“I was on the phone with my nan when Johnny and Kitty decided to rope us into their date. She called my dad.” Billy said as the two agents burst around the corner, guns firing. Tucker bit his tongue to stop himself from flinching.

“WHAT THE FUCK, GUYS?! WHAT IF YOU HIT US??” David yelled at the agents, not ones Tucker recognized. The rest of the guys yelled out agreements and at least one of them pulled out a “wait until my father hears about this!”

“Ecto-based weaponry is harmless to base humans.” One of the agents said. He was a hulking man of middle age with a strong jawline and a tattoo peaking out from the bottom of his long, white sleeves. Tucker couldn't see enough of it to make it out, but his right wrist appeared naked of ink in comparison.

“Are there any remaining ecto-entities in the vicinity?” The other asked. This man was larger and shorter than his partner, with large shoulders. His red hair was a bright beacon atop his head.

“Oh, so ectoplasm is harmful radiation when you're talking to the news but harmless when pointing guns at us?” David asked sarcastically.

“You lot should know better than anyone how harmful ectoplasm is to baseline humans.” Strong jawline said harshly in their direction. “Or don't you realize the indestructible cage you're in right now? No one can get you out of there; what if the spook that put it over you doesn't remove it? You'd die in there, in full view of everyone, with no one able to help you.” He continued, looking uncomfortably smug about the very idea of such a thing happening.

“Oh, fuck off, everyone knows these constructs collapse after about an hour once the ghost maintaining them leaves. And even if they didn't – these bars are far enough apart that packaged food and water could be passed through. Along with a shovel if we had to actually get out – we could just dig a hole under it, you fucker.” David snapped back.

“It does seem rather strange that you're so concerned about us doing our civic duty, young man. Perhaps you're actually ecto-contaminated? Or perhaps you're harboring an ecto-entity on the down-low? We might need to look into this matter further.” The red-haired man drawled. Tucker pressed himself against the cage's bars, his fingers gripping his PDA in his pocket tightly.

“Awww, did you guys get tired of harassing me and decided to branch out to living teenagers? I thought we had something!” Danny called out from above. Tucker breathed out, tension leaving his shoulders as he looked up.

“Ecto-scum! By order of the – ”

“Yes, yes – slur, threat, then shoot. I really thought for a moment you guys were abandoning me for a new group of teenagers! I'm just tickled to know that isn't the case – you guys can't know how boring the afterlife gets sometimes; I have so much time to do the same things over and over again! I gotta say, I'm rather happy you all seem to like hanging out with me so much – I always heard the living were all about time, but since meeting you all, I don't think that's the case at all!” Danny said as he lay out in the air like a giant cat. His smile stretched across his face in a wide Cheshire grin and his ghostly tail was flickering around like a tiger's tail, completing the unsettling image. He was really leaning into his ghostly aura too, his eyes glowing and he'd given himself star freckles – as Sam called them – the cosmos dancing in neon purple across his checks and nose.

Tucker swallowed as he realized that the star constellations stretched across his boyfriend's face in Sam's color were the ones above Kemet during his own rule as Pharaoh, thousands of years ago. He didn't even really remember that life, not in any way that mattered, but he was still fighting down butterflies at the idea of something so tied to him plastered across Danny's body with such visibility.

“Defending humanity is never a waste of time, Ghoul!” Strong Jaw shouted as he opened fire, which also made Tucker's rather inappropriate musings about Danny's physical appearance get shoved down into the depths of his mind, where they belonged.

Danny cackled as he dodged blasts and zoomed off, the two agents giving chase like the utter morons they were. Tucker waited a few moments, just to make sure no other ones came out of the woodwork to replace them, before he snapped his PDA out to check where the various agents were scattered about.

“Looks like the GIW are keeping people back, I'd be willing to bet some of your parents are out there.” Tucker said to the group. He made some mental notes of where agents were stationed and took a fortifying breath. “I'm out of here; don't talk to any of the agents without a lawyer present.” He said and didn't wait for any of the group to respond before he darted away.

He wasn't Sam or Danny – he wasn't built for cardio; couldn't run across town while carrying pounds of weapons or other gear and then parkour his fine ass onto a rooftop while dodging gunfire. He also wasn't Valerie, who could run at a ledge four stories in the air and make a leap, knowing her hoverboard would unfold under her feet. Nor was he Jazz, who could fold into a crowd and turn it into a rioting mass of angry citizens.

What he was, however, was clever and handy with technology. He had full control of the whole town's cameras and electrical grid. It was easy for him to move around agents with their earpieces and electrical tasers, to make it so no camera would ever record him moving about, to be able to feel the electrical pulses of large groups of humans moving over the streets of the city he lived in.

He didn't need to be able to sprint to the far fence on the left side of Pirates Cove and haul himself over it to evade the GIW. He didn't need to run across the busy street behind the mini golf course while praying that none of the goons in white caught sight of him.

All he needed was the knowledge that none of the cameras would record him in the outdoor portion of the course. The camera in the hallway of the “employees only” corridor that connected Pirates Cove to all the mechanical wires and pumps keeping the water running, the cheesy pirate sounds on a loop, and the lights on also didn't know anyone was there and wouldn't record the door opening. The most nerve wrecking part of leaving through the maintenance door was the moments he spent with his hands on the door, reaching his senses to try to get the shitty camera pointed at the employee parking lot to move enough to give him a wider view of the area around the door.

His temple throbbed from overuse of his abilities, but he walked out of there under his own power.

---

Nightwing strolled into the room, casually clocking the hospice nurse and the young volunteer already in the room. The nurse was sitting in a chair near the east wall, their work tablet next to them on a little fold out desk that also contained a bottle of lotion and a cup. (If it was for Nurse Pat, it would contain peach tea with a dash of honey; if it was for Johnny, it would contain pomegranate juice with his liquid pain meds mixed in.)

The volunteer was second year college student Marietta Joiner from Lakewood. They were majoring in musical composition and had a large following on Tikker as they crafted their third album. They volunteered at Sheldon Fox Hospice as a way of ensuring their parents continued to pay for their education. Their criminal record was clean, as were all of their associates – even their ex-boyfriend was just an asshole, not a thug.

“Boy Wonder, that you?” Johnny Witts wheezed from his bed.

“Yeah, Johnny, it's me.” Nightwing answered as he came over to lean over the bed so the older man could see him better.

“Thanks for coming, kid.” Johnny gasped out, taking a few large breathes after his short sentence. Nightwing settled down at the end of the bed, waving away Marietta who wordlessly tried to offer him their own chair.

Johnny Witts had been one of the first criminals that gave Batman and Robin a true run for their money back when Nightwing was still running around in a leotard with knee-pads. He was once a huge man, towering over Robin as he smirked his way through monologues and threats. He almost single-highhandedly revolutionized the way illegal guns could be smuggled into Gotham and was responsible for the downfall of two former mob families. He had been the first man to purposefully break one of Robin's bones, not in a fight or to get out of a dangerous situation – no, Johnny had gotten his hands on a little crime fighter who busted one of his bars and broke his arm in two places for the sole purpose of making him scream.

And now, here he was, frail and wrinkled in a bed. His once handsome face was wrinkled, pockmarks and scars prominent across his cheeks, and an old scar cut into his once plump lips turning his mouth into a permanent pout. His hair was all gone, barely even any fuzz growing atop his scalp.

“Can you believe I used to kick this kid's ass when he ran around Gotham in shorts?” Johnny said to Marietta. His voice was weak and thin but it held some humor in it.

“I can't believe you just confirmed that Nightwing used to be the first Robin like it was nothing.” Marietta said blankly. Nightwing laughed.

“It's not quiet a secret, just something not well known.” Nightwing said easily once he calmed down.

“I wish I could give you a good speech but I get tired more often now.” Johnny said and then had to stop to reach out for a drink of water. Marietta held it for him and Johnny needed to drink out of a straw – his hands were curled and knotted, sharking even as they rested against Marietta's hand over the plastic cup.

“I gave it some thought and decided to tell you where my last few stashes of guns are. Won't need 'em any.” Johnny said and his barking laughter quickly turned to a wheezing cough. “Wrote it down on a map, with some notes to make it easy to find.” He continued after he recovered.

“Aww, it would have been funny to keep finding your illicit stashes even years from now.” Nightwing joked and Johnny's mouth turned up at a corner in the closest thing to a smile he could make now.

“Little minders of ole Johnny, even after I'm gone.” Johnny said slowly. He was clearly fading, blinking slowly. Nightwing took one of Johnny's ruined hands in his own and it felt so fragile there; he had taken his gloves off and Johnny's skin felt thin and dry. He could feel all his bones and maybe even his veins.

Marietta took up conversation at that point, talking about the current song they were composing. Johnny didn't even finish high school but he loved music and clearly knew some about the technical aspects of it. Nightwing sat and listened to them speak, holding the old arms gangster's hand, and eventually Johnny stopped responding.

“Does he have any family?” Marietta asked quietly once it was clear Johnny was sleeping deeply enough that he wouldn't wake in a few minutes to continue the conversation.

“No. He left Gotham after a pretty bad Scarecrow attack – his husband died after Fear Toxin exposure.” Nightwing explained.

“I didn't know he had been married.” Marietta said, soothing the blanket as Nightwing released Johnny's hand.

“Legally, they weren't married; but they had been together since the '70's, I think? By the time it was legal for them to be married for real, they'd been calling each other husbands for decades and it was better for their finances to be unconnected. When one of them was in prison, they could legally empty the majority of their accounts to the other and the money would be untouchable.” Nightwing explained dryly. That little trick had been so annoying whenever he and B were trying to take Johnny or Ryan down. One of them would get arrested and their lawyer would immediately drain their account down to thirty dollars to funnel into the other's account.

“I guess they both took be gay, do crime a little too seriously.” Marietta muttered, clearly to themselves.

“Fucking right? Like, my elder queers, on the one hand – fight the system! Be gay, do crime! On the other hand, maybe do less crime? Maybe don't run guns for mobsters? Or deal laced, illegal drugs? Or provide bombs to anyone who will pay you for them? Or rob banks? Or throw people into the harbor with cement shoes for unpaid debts?” Nightwing said, chuckling.

“That's too much crime, put some back!” Marietta said, laughing as well. Their eyes were still a little shiny, but they were clearly on their way to feeling a little better.

Nightwing stood up as they both calmed down. He took one last look at Johnny Witts, his old body frail and weak from the cancer eating away at him.

“I have the papers for you, Nightwing. If I could just get your signature here and here, we can release them to you.” Nurse Pat said as she stood herself, holding the tablet out for him. The digital release was open on it and took a few seconds to sign Nightwing and put his Justice League of America identification number down.

He said goodbye to Marietta and grabbed the atlas journal Johnny had left him from the receptionist before he left building. It was a little jarring to step out into sunlight, but since he was the main hero in Blüdhaven it wasn't unheard of for him to have to go some of his work during the day. He cracked his neck as he walked towards his bike.

“Hey, O, you on comms at all?” Nightwing asked as he drove away.

“Nope, she's not on. I'm here if you need something though?” Luke Fox answered, his voice a pleasant rumble.

“Hey! Haven't heard you on comms in a minute; I didn't know you were back stateside!” Nightwing greeted. “And I don't need anything urgently – I was just going to have O send me some documents but if she's not on, I can hunt them down myself.” Nightwing continued.

“Alright, sounds good. Remember to switch your status if you're heading back to your civilian job after this.” Luke said.

“Will do!” Nightwing said and clicked off comms. He weaved through traffic, mentally trying to figure out lunch a his safehouse so he could finish the paperwork while eating. He's pretty sure he had ingredients to make a bacon and chicken sandwich and the rest of the vegetables left in the fridge could make a good stew.