Im bad at actually continuing story's. I blame the DPJL discord channel by the way. Also I was binging the first season of YJ while writing this so the characters might be a little—lot—off from their regular personality. I'm super sorry. Two lines of two dots like below means scene change. And : one line with two dots means it's just a character POV switch. Sorry if that's confusing. I might just remove it all togeather.

HI SNAFFLE

Momentum

Chapter 1

The Boy In The Black

In which a ghost meets a bat, a bird,

and a sense of confusion

-0-

He'd supposed, that in some strange way, with some far away, odd, logic that what he was doing, wasn't right; the way his head pounded, stomach churned, pins and needles danced along his legs numbed only slightly by the constant adrenaline rush he was drugged on at almost all times.

There were bags in his each of his hands. Two of them, he wasn't sure what was in them, it was much easier to hide in the back of his mind. Indulge in the sugary, sweet taste of the red mist. Ignore everything else around him. All he really knew was that whatever was in the bag, it was head and worth a lot of money—not that he really had the concept of money anyway.

There were down sides though. When he got hurt, it was harder to hide inside the redness, and not in the usually head pounding, stomach churning, pins and needles along his skin kind of way. When the police shot at him—even though he could go intangible—and hit him, he'd be violently ripped from the red fogs warm embrace, placed into some odd predicament he had no idea how he got in.

This was the type of deal, but there were no police when his eyes cleared from the red—so, so, so good. He never wanted to let go—only the dark sky and the night city lights below him. "What?" He could hear his own voice respond to something one of the other ghost—as he had been taught—said something.

"The Bat." The Ghost, a short, chubby thing, spoke. Finks, he had named the ghost.

Finks was one of his crew—he had been good, so, so, good, and he got rewarded. He was a leader now—another was Big, who was super big and strong, the last one Sheik, who had a cool robot eye thing. There was also Lydia, but he wasn't her boss. She was Masters favourite, and she didn't have red eyes, which probably meant she was important. He wasn't exactly sure.

"Bat?" He mumbled mostly to himself, glancing around in confusion. He was only slightly mad that he couldn't return to the fog, when he was hit. Not by a hand or anything of the sorts, but by a blade. It was still lodged in his left calf. It's dark form sticking out awkwardly from the too big dark fabric he wore. He stared at the object in confusion before he realized. It was bat shaped. "Kito!" Faster. He yelled at the others, they were being followed and they had to get out now. Leaning back and twisting around he pulled the blade from his leg and shoving it into one of his many pockets.

Phantom sped up—he could go *so very fast*—the others following behind him shortly "Lopo es tu aler iika?" Why are you so slow? He muttered annoyed glancing back at the ghost behind him. The damn Bat. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Bat! Getting in his way. He wanted to be good. Needed to be good. He'd say it was his obsession, to be good, to be wanted. The ghost had talked about obsessions before. When they realized he really knew nothing about being a ghost. Finks main obsession was to be treated as equal, and at circus gothica everyone was strange. Big's was to be strong, and although he wasn't sure about Sheik—he hadn't talk to her much—he assumed it had to do with music. She had a guitar in her train cart.

Another Bat-a-rang—or whatever the evil, little, things were called—flew past him, then spun around and zipped toward him. He dodged, watching as the batarang flew past him. Hearing the sound of Skeik let out a hiss let him know she had been hit. Stupid he thought, she should've turned intangible, then again, he hadn't even seen it coming. He had been hit.

Arriving back at the train cart, blanketed by invisibility, they entered. Dropping the bags in the looting cart as Master called it before returning to the Masters cart. "Minions!" He called in a strange joy, standing up with his beautiful, red, red, red, staff. Masters gaze switched to him. "Phantom," he spoke, his grin only stretching. "Come here pet." Phantom—he—did, moving toward the man with glassy, red, eyes. "Sit pet" sit, sit, sit. He did. Master grinned again, reaching down—phantom suppressed a flinch—and petting the ghost. Phantom only leaned into the touch, his core making a soft purring sound at the rare sign of affection.

Across the room, Lydia frowned, shaking her head she signed to Freakshow, you're going to break that boy.

Freakshow only let out a loud laugh. Hand tightening, fisting the boy below hims hair in anger making Phantom twitch and whimper. "He is fine." Freakshow finally spoke after a minute, letting his hand relax and go back to petting the ghost boy. "He is a ghost."

He's also a human. A child at that. Was the only reply.

"Barely a human. He will be fine. Now silence" Lydia did not speak, nore did any of the other ghost in the cart, they did not bicker or joke quietly. They did not speak. "Now. I think it would be about time we slept." No one mentioned how ghost really didn't need to sleep at all. Freakshow stood up, lifting his hand from Phantoms hair as he moved to bed area.

Phantom only stared.

-0-

"You look stressed" commented Dick from his spot on his couch, Bruce only hummed in acknowledgement. "No seriously Bruce," he frowned. "What's up."

There was a moment of hesitation, which Dick used to flip over the couch. "There was," another pause "a new villain."

Dick only raised an eyebrow. Sitting on top of the back of the couch he gestured to move on and explain more. Much to his disappointment Bruce only shook his head no. He frowned, jumping fully off the couch and moving toward his adoptive father. "It was a boy." Bruce finally spoke, seeing Dick about to comment he moved his hand to quiet him. "Your age." And with Dick was fully silenced.

Bruce turned and walked towards the cave entrance.

-0-

When Dick had gone out for a quick walk he hadn't expected anything to happen. So when he noticed a black haired boy stumbling down the street his hero instincts took over. "Ah, hey!" He yelled over to the boy, watching in mild fascination as the boy walked towards him. "Hey!" He tried again. "Kid?"

The boys head finally rose, revealing dark, red eyes barely covered by the thick, mop of black hair on the kids head. "Hey are you okay?" Dick asked, frowning as he noticed the limp in the boys step and the glazed look in his eyes.

Some clarity returned to his eyes as the boy looked at Dick, finally focusing. "Huh?" He mumbled confused, turning his head as if he wasn't sure where he was. "Who're—who're you." The boy finally slurred after a moment.

Dick blinked. Was the guy—drunk? He looked to be Dicks age, so that was impossible, unless he had stolen it or had abusive parents, Dick shivered at the thought. "Are you okay?" Dick repeated his question again.

"I need, food." The boy said after another moment of hesitation, and Dick frowned. Even from the distance he was at—and with the boys baggy, black clothing—he could tell that the kid was thin. Almost concerningly so. Dick assumed he was poor.

"Alright, alright okay." He raked his mind for what to do. "Do you have money?" The boy only tilted his head slightly, before shaking it no. "Here." Dick had reached into pocket and grabbed a twenty. Walking forward and closing the remaining five feet between them. He reached out, worry only increasing as he noticed the boy slightly flinch when Dicks hand got near, tossing the money he smiled sympathetically. The boys eyes went glassy, once more as he turned to move to the nearest store.

Dick frowned. "Weird" he mumbled.