DP X DC

DP x DC

Cackling filled the air, along with the sound of a blade slicing through the air. The whistle it made could drive you just as crazy as listening to the cackling.

Danny wasn’t sure why the man was laughing. Nothing around him was particularly funny. Blood spatters covered the cracked asphalt at Danny’s feet. Blood dripped off of his body, none of it his own.

Danny’s fingers twirled, repositioning the scythe he held, to rest on his shoulder. He surveyed the scene before him, a frown tugging down his lips.

People were standing along the streets, phones up, mouths hanging open. All of them were staring.

I didn’t think people could really see reapers. Danny mused, cackling cutting off as he studied those studying him.

It had been a few hundred years since everyone he knew had died peacefully of old age. Danny, having lived a fulfilled life, entered the Ghost Zone, prepared to be the new King, when Clockwork had merely smirked at him, eyes fond.

“What do you mean I have to serve as a reaper of souls first?”

Clockwork had been very insistent this was the way of things, but Danny was half-convinced he was making it up as he went.

Whatever gets the best timeline, I suppose. Danny looked out at the gathered crowd, then down at the twisted form below him.

“Jack Oswald White, you have been judged of sending those before their time, to the Realms Eternal. You have been found guilty of your crimes. With this slash, I, High King Phantom, Reaper of Souls, sentence you to the Nightmare Realm to be tormented until the end of Time.” Raising the scythe, Danny prepared to send the soul where it belonged.

“Wait!” A man stumbled forward through the crowd. A few people screamed as he broke through the ring, turning and running. The man was built, but what caught Danny’s eye, was the tuft of white hair on his forehead, and the feeling of death that hung around him. The domino mask was also eye-catching, but more background noise.

He stood before Danny and the condemned, drinking in the sight of the bloody man, like someone whom had been lost in the desert.

“Okay, go ahead. I just. I needed to see it.” The man puffed, domino-white eyes wide in anticipation. “Don’t worry, the other bats won’t come and ruin it. I took care of that.”

Danny cocked his head, feeling something humming in the air now that the man had settled in. The humming was bloodlust. Everyone here was eager to see this man die.

It was more than a little startling since Danny had never been seen before as the Reaper. It was more startling since most people who saw him screamed and ran away. What is wrong with these people? Where am I again? Gotham? Well the name seems to fit at least. Danny mused, before he nodded, and brought the scythe down.

*

Jason wanted to scream. Not in the “oh I’ve been hurt” or even “I’m so mad I could fill a bag with heads!” way, but the excitement, the primal feeling welling up within him didn’t want to be contained.

Oracle had reported some kind of public execution near Crime Alley. She hadn’t been able to confirm who it was for, nor who was doing it. All the cameras were bugging out in the area it was happening. Since Jason had been closest, he had managed to get there first.

In the middle of a massive crowd —and wasn’t that odd? Most people ran away from stuff like this— could just be seen an ethereal being floating above their heads. The being looked like someone about Jason’s age, but their skin glowed with an unearthly blue, and their hair, the color of starlight, moved in a way that contradicted the wind whipping everyone’s coats. The being was clad in black robes, the folds of which showed either constellations or a swirling green void that made something in Jason’s chest tighten.

And they held a massive scythe.

As Jason got closer, he heard the manic laughing, and froze.

The Joker.

Pushing through the crowd, heart hammering, Jason knew he had to— he had to do what? Save the Joker?

His earpiece made a high-pitched squeal as he broke through the crowd and saw the Joker’s body on the ground, scythe poised to finish the job.

The shriek that filled the air as the soul was sent to the Nightmare Realm, something inside Jason seemed to crack. The Reaper, High King Phantom as he had called himself, looked at Jason, and the crack felt like it wasn’t there.

I need to talk to him.