Bruce Was Not Panicking.

Bruce was not panicking.

He was most specifically not panicking. Because if he panicked, this teenager, this child, bleeding in his arms, would die.

The robbers on Elm Street could wait. Oracle had already directed Nightwing to the robbers getaway vehicle. Dick had been complaining for days that he hadn't had a good car chase in weeks. He got his wish.

But this child, Daniel, was Bruce's priority. His disorientation was concerning. He'd gone from mostly aware and coherent to unconscious in such a short period of time, after obviously having been cognizant enough to get away from his abuser. The rapid deterioration gave Bruce an indication of what type of poison it was, at the very least.

Bruce carefully buckled the child into the passenger seat of the Batmobile, tilting the seat and Daniel's head so he wouldn't choke on his own blood before they got to the Batcave.

"Agent A," Bruce growled, the Batmobile rumbling beneath him as he hit the gas, "Prepare medbay and the lab for a tox screen. Victim is a teenager, orphan, Daniel, most likely not from Gotham. Came with his godfather, the one who poisoned him,"

"Symptoms?" Alfred asked, steady as always, and Bruce appreciated that more than anything.

"Disorientation and confusion leading into unconsciousness, rapid decline. Bleeding from mouth, nose," Bruce glanced over at Daniel and his mouth thinned, "Eyes, and ears. Cold body temperature, thready pulse," Bruce paused, considering. "Too cold, possible meta. We'll have to test for the gene before intensive treatment,"

"Acknowledged. Shall I set Red Hood on discovering the identity of the young man and his godfather?"

Bruce paused. Thought it over for a second. Then he glanced at Daniel, heard his desperate pleas to save him, help him, keep him away.

"Remind Hood not to kill,"

"Will do,"

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.