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There are several beats where no one talks. It stretches. Phantom tilts his head. "Is there a further issue?" He asks.
"Yeah, you're possessing my little brother's fucking corpse. He-fuck!" The red helmeted one (he should probably ask for names) snarled and kicked out at the wall.
"Hood-" the one in black and blue tries to speak, but is ferociously cut off.
"No, don't you DARE tell me to fucking calm down! He's dead! Tim fucking died! Another Robin died alone and in pain in a warehouse, help just a few minutes too late and- fuck! Motherfucking," Hood let out an incensate noise of raise, half cry of anger half sob, "We heard our little brother die, and you ask me if there's a fucking ISSUE?!" It was at this point that Hood turned violently and accusatorily to Phantom.
Phantom paused. He... rarely dealt with the bereaved anymore. He remembered guilt. He remembered grief. He knew that in each moment of intense grief, he imagined that it had felt like dying. Again. He knew better now.
But he also knew it was distant. It had been so, so long since he was human and felt things the way they did. He had long gotten over that, but every so often it panged back into him. The feeling of other. The feeling that though he may command Space, there was still so much between him and others.
Phantom slid off the box he was sitting on and approached Hood. The beings around him scrambled; to get out of or into his way, he didn't know. Hood refused to move. Phantom stopped in front of him.
"I grieve with you," He spoke through still healing vocal cords (deadaloneafraidpainnononoIwanttolivenonoIwantmyDad-) and let the tears he had hardly noticed holding back began to fall. "Your grief is mine, and I grieve with you," And then Phantom began to Sing.
It wasn't in any human tongue. It didn't use vocal cords so it wouldn't strain the child's (a child) body any further.
It echoed and reverberated through the warehouse and heard as others began to sob underneath its weight. It was loss. It was grief. It was despair and pain made into a noise and driven into the soul in horrible, haunting melody.
But there was hope. Of course he added hope, this wasn't the end. Trauma and memories would remain, as would scars, but healing would be found in time. A new joy of lost loved ones coming back because they would not truly rest until they did. It wasn't the end. Not a goodbye, but until I see you again.
Death was not the end.
His Song tapered off in one final warble that rang through the warehouse until silence returned. The people within stared at him. The pretty magic user sniffed heavily before lowering her head. Good, she knew the significance of a Song delivered by one of the dead.
"We are honoured," She spoke tremulously through her own tears.
Phantom inclined his head in return. "The honour is mine," he replied. Then paused. "Hood?" He asked.
"What?" The man asked, voice warbling and broken through his helmet. There was a sharp burst of static that might've been a sniff.
The edges of Phatom's vision through this body was darkening and blurring at the edges. He had forgotten a lot of things about blood loss. Like the dizziness that came with, lightheadedness, and fainting.
"You might want to catch. I don't think adding a concussion to the list of injuries is a good idea," Phantom collapsed in a rush of darkened vision and briefly feeling strong arms catch him and hearing buzzing shouts before he was out.
Tim gets sacrificed in a ritual to summon "the ALL powerful conqueror, Phantom". And by sacrificed, I mean Tim really dies and Danny is forced into his body forcefully.
There's no coming back from that. Not even after the cultists are stopped.