regonold:
I kinda want danny who’s been adopted by the wanyes to be schmoozing it up at a gala (because listen nothing is funnier than the image of Gotham elites being like oh whats this one’s gimmick cus all the other’s have something only for danny to just be a dude) only for like the giw to raid the place to get danny ( cus he’s a ghost? Cus he’s a Fenton? Who knows)
Only for danny to pick up a bottle chug it smash it and vault out a window shouting you’ll never catch me alive
Now this increases his reputation with most Gothamites and rouges and absolutely worries the fuck out of the batfam why is the government chasing you danny and hiw are you so good at running
It was supposed to be a normal gala, everyone attending and maybe smuggle in Danny’s official introduction to the public.
Danny didn’t really mind, having been lectured and taught by Sam during the times of suffering they’d had to go through together.
Yet, since waking up, he’d had a bad feeling.
Good thing he listened to that bad feeling, considering the situation he is at right now.
(He had looked at Dami when he saw the agents pile in, handing him his glas and grabbing the bottle. He ignored the scowl in favor of shouting, “Viva la revolution!”)
The comm crackles to life as he smashes one of the GIW agents with a bottle of champagne over the head, grabbing another and downing in one go.
He passes Jason, grinning like a feral cat and swiping another GIW agent to the ground.
(At that moment, the forced-to-be-here Jason watched wide eyed, a soft “What the fuck” leaving him as he held his glass.)
“Get him!” Multiple guns were pointed at the running teen. The guests and the waynes were pressed to the walls of the room and murmured.
Danny jumped, kicking the agent down and ducking from the shoots.
He’s running to the tall windows, opening one and sending his farewells.
“You will never catch me alive!!”
And jumps out, a flurry of colourful laser shoots following.
The agents pile behind the window, shouting incomprehensibly.
(One of guests leans towards Mr. Wayne, sipping her champagne. “Say, Bruce, are you sure he isn’t from Gotham City?”
The man in turn blinks, smiling charmingly despite the demon’s fighting in his head at what’s going on. “I… was pretty sure, maybe he just fits in?”
The Lady laughs, dumping her rest of the drink on a agent and making a haste retreat.
Bruce is only half sure that, that was someone he knew and just disguised.)
