Broken Ghost (A Danny Phantom, Young Justice, and Batman Crossover)

~2~

         The raven-haired teen woke with a start, panting heavy as beads of sweat trickled from his brow and neck. He instinctively checked himself over before realizing it was just a nightmare. Just another painful memory of the past, he thought grimly as he stood and stretched. Then came the onslaught of stomach grumbling, causing the teen to groan in annoyance. Ugh! I guess my ghost half can only sustain me for so long.

          With that, the fifteen-year-old slipped on his dark blue hooded jacket, his sneakers, and a pair of gloves he found in his back pocket. Thanks to his ghostly vision and the dull glow of light from outside, he made his way over to the window. The boy swiftly floated up to the sill effortlessly, then slipped out into the alleyway from the night before.

          Once the hooded teen walked on the streets, he tried to pickpocket as much as he could. Almost all too soon, he reached the center of Gotham, the most violent yet populated part of the big city. It was a risk, with all the crimes, but the boy was willing to take it for more food.

          The raven-haired teen glanced up at one of the many tall buildings, this one in particular being shiny with a logo of "Wayne Enterprises" posted high up top. The boy sighed in thought, his fingers moving on auto-pilot. What does a rich man like Bruce Wayne do every day? He wondered as he huddled along the crowd. 

          Then he noticed the Gotham Bank arriving to his right. The hooded teen's legs working on their own, he walked up to the ATM near the door, his hand going intangible in his front pocket. It would be so easy just to slip my hand in . . . he thought, his temptations coming back to fight. Then the boy shook his head, stepping away from the machine. No. No . . . I won't be a criminal. Well, more so a criminal than I already am. But if I do, I'd be a step closer to becoming him. Besides, it's my powers that led me to this type of future in the first place.

         Having made his mind up once again, the fifteen-year-old began walking away, not noticing a white car pull up next to the building. Then the next minute, the hooded teen heard the faint noise of a small object being thrown. Wait, change that, several small objects having been thrown. 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! 

        Sounds of small explosions rippled through the air as a green fog settled on the large crowd near the Gotham Bank. The boy held his arm up, coughing in the smoke with the people around him. Then, one by one, they all fell to the ground, unnatural smiles plastered on their faces as they cackled madly. The raven-haired teen stared wide-eyed as the people around him dropped like flies. What's going on? What is this? Who did this? He thought frantically, unsure of what to do. Then, not wanting to be signaled out, he fell down too, but refused to laugh, let alone smile. His smiling days were long gone. 

          The boy finally took notice of the white car, focusing on the noises coming from inside.

          "- did it again, puddin'!" complimented a high feminine voice in a Southern Belle accent.

          "HAHAHAHA!" cackled another voice, this one masculine. "I did indeed, Harley! But let's not waste our time, because our favorite bat will be arriving soon. Let's move, boys!"

          Hearing that command, the teen watched as several men in clown make-up hopped out of the car, rushing towards the bank with guns in hand. Then a young woman dressed in a jester's outfit emerged from the front seat, a mallet too big for someone her size to wield, grasped tightly in her hands. Next came a clown man different from the other men, this one wearing an unnatural smile of his own.