Bump in the fight
Spawn is a registered trademark of Todd McFarlane. Danny Phantom and his various cast members mentioned here belong to Butch Heartman, but I'm going to play it safe and kiss Nickelodeon's ass as well. This takes place during the second season after Danny acquires that infamous D emblem and any part of Spawn continuity before his second trip into hell, or massive power up as would be ruler of hell. Malebolgia is still running things and Al's power hasn't run low from brining Terry back from near death, so Danny's got some chance if anyone takes a fight between these two seriously. Wouldn't recommend it.
Also, looking over this before I upload it to I realise I neglected to mention Skulker's decked out in his armour gear from Micro Management. He's hunting pretty big game here after all.
On with the show, albeit in a Freakshow kind of way.
"Whelp! I shall have your head as a medallion for this!"
"Oh come on already!"
Energy charged eyes narrowed in irritation. Then went wide. Light bright hair narrowly missed an impromptu hair cut from Skulker's gauntlet lasers. More followed, as predicted, but Danny Fenton had long since stopped wondering if the ability to guess how most of these ghost fights he'd been getting into since nearing puberty were going to go was a supernatural power, or a good thing. That, and dogging around various Manhattan skyscrapers tended to distract you from things like that. A gargoyle squatting innocently enough on his right vanished in a burning explosive flash. Skulker was just showing off with those things now.
"That's it whelp, flee before the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter!"
The ghost boy circled back around, laser fire phasing through his intangible body like rain through mist. Annoyed, cranky mist.
"Flee before you? You've led me back and forth all over this city all night for some stupid reason, and I'm the one who's gonna run?"
A ghost ray lit the night, grazing the hunter as the pair flashed past one another. Danny smirked.
"I don't think so."
He'd expected the hunter to snarl and continue flying to the opposite end of the sky line. Not snarl, grab his leg (phasing so he could do that, which shocked Danny solid), and hurl him against one of the many skyscrapers. Which was fun. These things weren't so large back in Amity Park. And there wasn't that much steam…
The phantom grunted as an air conditioning unit crumpled under his weight. The world blurred in pain and hissing fog. Another thing Amity Park didn't have; this many stupid things on rooftops.
"I have come here in search of the greatest prey ever imagined…something that makes even you worth less than dust beneath my boots! And you shall not come between me and the greatest prize I shall ever ensnare!"
That sounded like the typical Skulker sound bite…
He heard the sound of metal boots slam into rooftop stone, a clicking, a whirring…
That sounded like Skulker's rocket launchers.
Twin laser sights glowing against his black hazmat suit, the ghost boy propped himself up on one elbow, looking up into a familiar predatory grin.
"Game, set and match, whelp."
Some vacation.
The girl couldn't be more thansixteen. Probably a run away, stained and faded jacket over clothing that provided little protection against bitter street chills, but probably hid a world of scars and bruises. The man wasn't drunk, his kind never needed to be. He was sloppy, overweight and would probably collapse like an apartment block in an earthquake if lifting anything heavier than a bowl of peanuts, but not much skill went into violating some one, or cutting them with a smashed beer bottle. Not if you wanted to make them suffer. And this animal would suffer.Chains rattled in deep shadow, and swirling scarlet exploded down into the alley. Ratty eyes looked into emerald slits.
"Oh my God!"
NO.
"Okay, aerial dog fights not working…"
Danny dove under Skulker's lunge, a cobalt glowing blade missing by inches. The teen went into a roll, landing on the nearest rooftop that hadn't been set on fire by the rounds of ecto blasting and gun play, kicked off as the hunter began to turn, pulled a fist back, and put all of his 120 miles per hour speed behind it.
"…so let's try the direct approach!"
A satisfying grunt echoed through the New York night. Skulker's shoulder mounted rocket launchers clanged as he smacked off the edge of a building (Just how many of these things does this city have?), crashed off a window ledge (Ouch.) and spun into an air condoning unit (Ha!).
Danny paused, took a brief second to blow flecks of imaginary dust off his glove, tightened his other fist.
"One more for the road?"
He smirked at the shrieked profanities.
"If you say so."
He put everything and a dash extra into this one. Just to show he cared. The hunter exploded off the rooftop, pounding into the dirt of the alley below. One of the rocket launchers sparked in the dust, discarded papers and garbage flocking around the semi conscious ghost it was attached to. Danny landed, keeping a decent enough distance if this didn't go smoothly, and reached behind him. The Fenton Thermos gleamed in a white gloved hand.
"That's game.."
The top flipped off, the familiar electronic purr filling the alley.
"…set…"
Skulker squinted in the sudden nauseating vortex light, rocket launchers dragging noisily in the alley dirt as he shot into the micro prison. It muffled whatever he was shouting, which could have been a promise of vengeance or a reassurance that he was the Ghost Zones greatest hunter, and therefore made the muffling a god send. The top clamped into place, the final cog in the tried and true machine that was Fenton ghost hunting.
"..and match. Jeez, I need new material. Maybe I should start watching more Stephen Colbert."
Thermos stashed safely in his belt, Danny wiped a glove across his tired brow. Smoke and dusts did little to block out the dancing light of the rooftop fires. He was just lucky the buildings were abandoned…they had to be in this crummy part of this stupid city.
"Come to the ghost hunters convention Danny, it's in New York, It'll be fun, you'll meet ghost hunter girls"…like I don't have enough trouble with the one back home. And Dad really needs to shut up about Egon Spengler or whoever it was we met back there.
Sirens cut through the night, and the tired ghost boy didn't feel like hanging around. Despite the large number of Super heroes around here, the media suggested that if Amity Park had witch hunts, New York had witch hunts and a large number of not so normal people who would join in. Like he needed any more reason to want to avoid the city other than attending a ghost hunter convention.
GHOST CON 07! PUTTING THE VOODO BACK IN VOODO ECONOMICS SINCE 1979!
There was just no way he was going to ask about that part. He was more concerned with the
LEADING SUICIDAL HALF GHOST KIDS INTO THEIR WORST NIGHTMARE, OTHER THAN SPENDING GHOST BOY HUNTING TIME WITH THEIR GHOST HUNTER PARENTS, SINCE THE MOMENT THEY GET OFF THE PLANE!
part.
The city was just too big and dirty and noisy and weird and made his head hurt. Listening to some half assed theory on the use of holy water as a ghost repellent was almost as bad as listening to Jack Fenton dribble over meeting Manhattan's premier Ghost Busting team. Almost. Which was why he'd taken Jazz up on the offer to return to the hotel (the only danger of vomiting he was in was from some of Dad's fan boy spittle landing in his mouth, but whatever got little miss over reactive to get him out of there…) and sneaked out for a quick flight. Half hearted hopes of meeting a superhero amongst the clouds had quickly gone down with the sun. What exactly Skulker was doing in New York Danny didn't know. Or care.
Right now he needed to not be here, in this particular flammable and very disgusting part of the city. Maybe find some aspirin. Even Plasmius's speeches never hurt this much. He took off, leaving the shadow ridden alley behind.
The would be rapist curled up in a fetal position, arms almost not completing the ball over his beer belly.
"Oh god…please…"
I DOUBT HE CARES RIGHT NOW.
Metal unwound, the chains dragging back to their master across the filth covered ground. The whimpering behind him made Spawn turn. The sight of the sobbing teenager didn't unnarrow hell green eyes, but something that was once a heart felt the heat of a small glow of sympathy. The older bums back in Rat city weren't worth much, but these alleys were nowhere for one so young to be. Sometimes he doubted if this entire city truly was for any one.
IT'S…ALL RIGHT.
This was probably going to be a mistake, but he decided not to finish the job on the sobbing scumbag before him. Not now any way. He reached out to her. She saw the spikes on the blood red leather gauntlets, the talons grasping through the air towards her. She screamed.
Ghost green eyes narrowed.
I know, I know, It's New York…but this is a pretty bad looking neighbourhood…
Shells of buildings flashed past, the surrounding air growing greasier. Thicker. A little too hot, a little too cold. Ghost sense at fever pitch.
Danny shook it off, phased through another building, looked around the next alley way for…he didn't know.
Clammy. Sticky. Shouldn't be here. Something bad. Too much.
What is this?
He swallowed, not that it did much good, and sped off again. The deeper he went, the worse whatever it was got. Like his ghost sense trying to tell him more than Technus going under cover as a toaster.
Then he saw it.
A mass of blood red, constant shifting, silver chains, predator dancing…
Malebolgia.
The word exploded inside his head, his ghost sense burning in freezing cold neon. Keeping him away. Pleading not to do anything. Begging him to run. Making his entire body still yet shaking, like a mountain in an earthquake.
Danny Fenton stared. And realised he was scared.
And if there was one thing Danny Phantom was good at, it was facing fear.
Fist clenched tight, the ghost boy exploded forward.
The cloak danced urgently to the sudden change in the wind. A warning. Too late.
The impact jolted through the cape and into the Hellspawn's spine, spider webs spreading across the brickwork as he slammed into it. The girl recoiled, fresh screams tearing into his ringing ears.
"That is how they say hi in Brooklyn right?"
Cape slashing and bouncing like a caged velvet tiger, Simmons staggered upright. What he saw floating an inch from the ground like a fly above freshly ordered pizza just irritated him more. Snow white hair. Glowing green eyes. Shiney white gloves and boots topping a black spandex suit like a walking bad photo negative, some kind of deformed D splashed firmly in the middle of it all as if to really piss him off. An outfit that screamed Superhero. Or villian. Like he needed anymore of those down here. And this one was smiling.
WRONG MOVE.
One chain slashed out first. Better to see what the little punk could do first. Spawn wasn't particulary amused when it simply whistled through him, like a desprate animal through midnight mist.
JUST WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE?
"This from the New Yorker." The smartass grin, which was getting to Spawn more than the wannabe Superman logo, grew that little bit wider.
"Danny Phantom, friendly neighbourhood ghost boy at your service."
Two sets of green eyes shone in the night, locked like circling jungle cats, alley way almost ablaze from the intensity.
I DON'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS.
"Your loss. By the way, who's your tailor? Because the chains are a little eighties. "
That did it.
Whoa!
Danny almost didn't make it to intangibility as his brand new sparring partner lunged talons first at him. Almost. But it still jump started his heart. A frustrated growl, a burst of contained yet savage movement of red, black and silver, and the fashion nightmare was coming back at him again. This time he connected with a now solid back. Earlier wounds jumped back into the equation as Danny went down. He rolled with it, but it still took effort to get back up again.
"Fast, aren't you? Guess that…"
The swipe to the face was twice as fast. The arm Danny barley managed to get in the way did little to improve the situation. Swipe was too tame a word. A sudden explosion of hurricane strenght and lightning speed rammed into him. He twisted through mid air, smacking hard into the dent in the wall where he'd scored first blood. The girl screamed a final time, and took off as if fired from a semi automatic.
"Oh, your welcome by the way."
Danny wiped a hand across his mouth, which had no right to sting this much when his arm was the one that took the brunt. No blood. Yet. Plasmius couldn't dream of hiting that hard with a solid gold fist. Although there was a metallic taste to the blow. Something…wrong about it. Like his ghost sense on the scale of an atom, small but universally relevant. And explosive when split, which kind of explained the headache. Trying to hold on to it, not that Danny wanted to, was like trying to swat a fly while in traction.
Yeah…probably should have listed to my ghost sense.
Which was still acting up every time this freak show moved. Him, and the massive cape, which may as well have been alive, the experienced phantom not prepared to rule out that possibility.
A sudden hiss made him look down. His hip shuddered, belt dancing back and forth as the Fenton Thermos shook, cold with escaping air. A faint glint blinked on and off at the slash at its side.
"Oh joy."
A shadow made him look up. Honed instinct took over, and he dodged as the suddenly blade sharp edges of his opponents cape obliterated the wall. He grabbed the shaking thermos with one hand, for all the good it would do, fired off a ghost ray with the other.
His opponent exploded up into the darkening sky, highlighted in the green after glow of the blast as it missed completely. Head feeling like an orange in a blender, Danny fired a round of zigzagging beams, desperate to keep the monstrosity at bay. The following shots were also dodged by a series of insane bounds that sent the creature (Danny couldn't bring himself to believe this thing was human) tearing through the air to bounce from wall to wall.
The thought of looking into those eyes again brought a fresh wave of nausea, the vibrating of the breached thermos was threatening to tear his leg off, and he had had one really bad day. So Danny did what anyone else would have under the circumstances. He threw the thermos right at the oncoming nightmare.
The chains were fast enough to strike bullets out of the air, the cape as sudden as death on the wind. But normally Spawn was not attacked by something that looked like his mother would keep soup in. While still in mid leap no less.
The clang of thermos striking forehead was so satisfying, as was the thud of whatever this guy was made of hitting the concrete like a shot down plane. Danny smirked. The sound of the thermos bursting open was not. Danny frowned. Skulker groaned.
"Oh great. Now one wants to hunt me, and one wants to kill me. I so should have stayed at home."
Spawn groaned, Mask throbbing with pain. A thermos. That little shit hit him. In the face. With a goddamn thermos. In. The. Face.
Then he glanced at the reject from a heavy metal concert. This was the kind of thing he'd been hoping to avoid by clearing the punk out. The damn costume types always attracted some kind of brain damaged freak who'd just blow up more of his alleys, something he really did not need. Times like this, he wished he still had the Curse nailed to the wall next to his throne to let all these fools know exactly what they were stepping into and what they wouldn't be stepping out of. He rose, cloak clawing itself around him, chains as ready as trained muscles, eyes meeting with his new sparring partner.
The Overtkill rip off smirked.
"There you are."
I DON'T CARE WHY YOU'RE HERE AND EVEN LESS ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT. YOUR TRESSPASSING.
A shoulder mounted weapon, not any tech Spawn recognised, swivelled to take aim. The Hellspawn didn't blink as red light trailed down his targeted body.
"I know exactly what I want. You. A pawn of the Malebolgia. The trophy that will truly make me the greatest hunter in all the after life. And all I need to do is eliminate you right here."
The weapon hummed. The smirk grew.
BETTER THAN YOU HAVE TRIED.
Spawn recognised the type. An emerald gaze took in the quicksand need for approval beneath the stone confidence of the weirdo's eyes. He knew the type. The hunted trying to make it all go away by playing with the hunter's fire. Two targets made no difference to a seasoned solder, but if the punk had brought some weird ass freak friends crawling into the alleys, tactics could only help. Like burning the idiot with that fire.
I'LL KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO WHAT EVER NANCY BOY HARDWARE STORE YOU CRAWLED OUT OF WHEN I'M DONE WITH THE PUNK.
Confusion threw off the hunter's steady aim.
"The whelp?"
"Hey, standing right here!"
Twin glows lit the night, and Hellspawn and hunter went flying as the ghost rays struck.
Just when you thought it was safe to get up after a ghost sense head ache, you've got more psychos to worry about. So what else is new?
Hovering a few inches above the alley way filth, Danny kept eyes and still charged hands locked on the two walking migraines that had made an irritating vacation that much more worse. Still they weren't as bad Ghost Con. At least he could hit them.
He still didn't get what was up with the fruit loop in the classier Vlad Plasmius outfit. Ghost sense was going off, but this guy didn't feel like one. Skulker was an ant small blip on his radar compared to this guy. Superhero? Could be anything if the stories in New York or that costume were to be believed. He was giving the halfa a headache in any case, and that was without the tough guy death threats. It was like the mass portal breakout during Pariah Dark invasion. Only ten times bigger. Times a thousand. With acid. Lots and lots of acid.
Fruit loop version 2 was on his feet first, chains and cape tearing across the air in savage lines, waiting for the phantom to move. Metallic scraping drowned out clawing metal and snapping leather as Skulker scrambled away from the reason he'd come here. A confidently aimed gauntlet blaster was suddenly at fruit loop's head, the only working shoulder launcher swivelling like a hungry predator towards Danny. Who aimed one hand at the hunter as some of fruit loop's chains and one half of his cape lashed threateningly at the same target. The other remained on fruit loop, as did his remaining accessories on Danny. Thus the little triangle was complete. If it hadn't involved taking his eyes off the other two Danny would have shaken his head at how quickly this had gotten so stupid.
It's a real Pirates of the Caribbean two moment.
"Okay, so…and I'm probably going to regret this…who's first?"
There were probably better words for all hell to brake loose at, but it did nevertheless.
The two anomalies and the unwitting pawn were in place. As was typical for the mortal mind, even in existence after passing mortal boundaries, they were currently all pitting their skills, for lack of a better word, against each other. Brute force against undignified weaponry. The test, for the most part, was complete. All combatants were in place. The next step could begin. The operative watched and waited.
The halfa blasted the hunter. The Hellspawn decked the halfa, then tried to finish the job on the hunter. The halfa zapped the Hellspawn back, and the hunter tagged the halfa with a wrist gauntlet blast. The Hellspawn tackled the hunter, then lunged for the hlafa. The hunter tagged the Hellspawn while the halfa was trying to stop the Hellspawn strangling him to death, not fun when your half way there already. The hunter shot down the halfa for good measure. The Hellspawn proceeded to trip the hunter and the pair rolled across the alley like challenging tigers, cloak dancing, chains clanging off body armour. Danny blinked until Saturn and it's twin brothers stopped playing ring around the rosé with his head, staring with glowing green eyes at the mad brawl that sent trash and dust flying. Chains snapped around the hunter, snakes swarming over weakening pray, slammed him against the wall, the ground, and then the wall again. A lot. The strategy wasn't hard to figure out. The still dancing cloak settled around it's wearer, all movement lost beneath the angry bee swirling fabric.
GAMES DONE BIG MAN. SAFFARIES OVER.
The hunter extracted his head from the brickwork, eyes locking back on target.
"Oh no, not now. Not when the hunt has yet to truly begin."
Spawn had been sick of this since the beginning. Now he was just pissed.
SO WHAT GAME ARE YOU PLAYING ANYWAY?
"One between the two greatest forces of the after life. And before your instincts kick in, no, it's not the angels. Not even your master. Someone knew enough about both you and me to know what I would give to face one such as you. A Hellspawn. The first on this plane of existence for millennia. And I'm not supposed to hunt you? I tracked your necro signature to this cesspool, although it proved difficult with your masters brand upon you. For a half ghost I imagine it must be like wanting to take ones life when there is no life to take. The whelp is a bonus. Perhaps I'll even pair you two up as pray for when I drag you both back to my domain."
Spawn's eyes narrowed. He was always dealing with too many damn somebodys.
NOT HAPPENING.
Chapel was gone, and the personal type regardless. Violator was cowardly, but obsessive. Wynn?
"Hey! Does anyone care what I have to say about this?
The rifle scope hard eyes looked to the ghost kid, hovering again with his arms folded.
"Because I say your both nuts!"
Muscles tensed once more and…
A faint clink of shoe against rusted tin can, a sudden intake of breath. Three sets of green eyes looked away from each other. The girl drew back into the shadow she'd been concealed in, for all the good it did her now. Panic slithered down Danny's spine.
"I thought I told you to leave! Or you ran away even…or something…"
Spawn hesitated. Skulker looked from one to the other. Then a cruel grin.
"Ah. Of course. Simply a matter of bait."
No…
Danny got as far as "Don't even th…" before the booster jets rammed to life. The light and dust struck hard despite his thrown up hands and closed eyes. Purple after images of Skulker bowling fruit loop over danced in the shadows of his vision. A familiar scream cut through unholy roaring.
By the time he'd removed his hands, even the dust was gone. Fruit loop spat what may have been a death threat. Danny ignored it, forced unnatural speed through unnatural muscle, and exploded after Skulker. Spawn rose, the faint neon speck fading from his view. The punk really didn't have any training after all.
Like a starved rat at the first sign of dead meat.
On the one hand the punk and the walking scrap heap were gone. On the other, that scream still ran through his head with feet of unjust terror. Leather rustling, metal screeching, spawn powered through the air to the rooftops like the dead from their graves, two faint but closer stars as his guide.
Sickcoldpain. Danny sensed the urgency to stop before he heard the call.
HOLD IT.
Shadows surrounded fruit loop as he overtook the ghost kid, not a single glanced spared behind him as he lunged to the net couple of rooftops.
HE'S AFTER BOTH OUR SKINS. OUT TO FIND A BIG ENOUGH STONE FOR TWO BIRDS.
"Spank you helpy help a ton, but either give me a plan or pick it up down there!"
Spawn ignored that, although removing the punk's tongue would be just as satisfying as the plan he'd come up with on the fly. Assuming it went right. He hit the next roof, looking honestly at the punk before starting another burst of sprinting.
HOW FAST CAN YOU FLY?
He had senses far beyond adequate enough to tell both prey were in pursuit. Easily baited in the trap he would set after a burst of speed. His jets, damaged thought they were, would allow plenty of that for a hunter of his calibre. But Skulker still made the mistake of turning. Saw the halfa start closing the gap, yet shifting lower, diving. Saw the Hellspawn reach the last ledge, jump, hand glowing.
A bolt of necroplasm scythed white hot through the hunters glider wings. The violent jolt hurled the girl upwards as he burned across the night sky. She blocked the moon, hanging there with an ethereal shine misting around her in that moment of frozen time. Then gravity pulled her back down. Into the rising half's arms.
Skulker pulled himself from the dent he'd left in the dumpster, sparks dancing off metal as his suit's servos struggled with effort and the dead weight of useless armaments.
"Such power…truly glorious hunt…"
A blood red shadow surrounded by thrashing silver enveloped him, a tin can sound echoing through the alley as his head was removed. The Hellspawn stared at the dangling legs and the sound of helium cursing within the severed, metal head.
"Release me you oversized caped oaf! I am the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter! Master of the after life stalking grounds! King of…"
A talented hand rammed in, yanking what looked like a green tennis ball with feet up for inspection.
HUH. SEEN WEIRDER. AT LEAST HE WON'T MAKE A MESS.
The ball was dropped. A foot was raised.
"Man, is that your answer to everything?"
Spawn glared as the punk landed, the girl gently placed against a near by wall.
YOU GOT A BETTER WAY TO CLEAN UP YOUR MESSES MAGIC BOY?
"Actually, yeah."
The thermos rattled a lot more than usual, air molecules flashing as they were frozen or lionized. Danny kept a firm hand around it, the other just as tight around the girl's shacking shoulder. He tied a scrap of cloth, stained an unidentifiable shade from a lifetime in the alleys, around the tare. It'd have to do until he could grab the spare in his parents luggage. Which would hopefully be sound proof, the cloth didn't entirely muffle the swearing. Chains rattled suddenly and he glanced up at the approaching fruit loop.
"Oh you cannot be serious! We just kicked his butt so now your going to go back to trying to kick mice? What kind of superhero are you?"
He flinched at the glare.
NOT THE KIND YOU EVER WANT TO BE SAVED BY. NOW SHUT UP AND MOVE IT, UNLESS YOUR FREAKY ASS WON'T SCARE THE COPS.
Danny heard it now, the distant call of sirens, saw the distant glow of police lights, felt the invisible rush as everything in the alley seemed to flee from it. Whoever eventually had called the cops into this neighbourhood didn't want to be there to answer the questions. He was suddenly aware of his own smell, noticeable over the alley odours due to it's proximity. Everything under the suit felt like it was being dragged down with fruit loops chains. A New York hotel bathroom never sounded better. Jazz had probably snitched to mom and Dad he'd gone anyway, and facing off hysterical ghost hunters would be just the perfect end to this fine night. But, as with every hero, there was something he had to take care of first.
"Uh, hey…"
He held her freaked out gaze for several seconds. Whether it was shock keeping her mouth shut or she just didn't understand the unasked question, he wasn't getting anywhere waiting for her name.
"…lady, you gotta go with them."
She stiffened. Nervious, Danny realized, scared of authority. Probably why she was out here in the first place.
"Look, whatever your running from has got to be bad. No denying that. But is it really bad enough you have to call something grown here a life?"
A hand swept the entire alley. Danny shifted his gaze to the fruit loop.
"Uh, no offence."
No answer. Not even a rattle of chain. Somehow that was more worrying than the sound of a hunting wolf. The girl looked to Spawn's deaths head mask, eyes nakedly uncertain in the light of the approaching cruisers. The Hellspawn looked back for some time.
YOU…DO NOT WANT TO BE UNDER MY PROTECTION. NOT IF YOU DON'T NEED TO BE.
She looked at both of them, the small glowing shadow with the pleading eyes, the nightmare shadow wrapped in blood red. Both standing apart before her, both very different, but both in agreement about one thing. Her safety. Eventually, casting scared but thankful glances over her shoulder, she ran to meet the glow of salvation. Danny breathed a sigh of relief rather than necessity, then considered the caped figure for a moment.
"Look, I know this is our first team up and all, but…um…high five?"
A hand tentatively went up. The green glare could have served it in a bucket of fried chicken. It went down.
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
"Uh…nineteen. Yeah, the whole superhero thing really screws around with my college social life…"
HOW OLD ARE YOU REALLY? I WON'T ASK AGAIN.
Young shoulders slumped. "Fourteen. Fifteen next month."
Spawn considered this. Might as well go easy on the kid. The deaths head mask slithered open. And Danny's head almost exploded. He probably would have felt better if he had. Something in the pain , that sick primal screaming, told him what this was even before the words came. How temporary this alliance had truly been. And how temporary existence would be if it was ever brought back up.
STAY OUT OF THESE ALLEYS, AND IF I EVER SEE YOU HERE AGAIN, I'LL MAKE SURE YOU SUFFER EVERY SINGLE KIND OF TORMENT THERE IS BEFORE YOUR EIGHTEEN.
The mask closed like living night. Job done, the Hellspawn blurred into a convenient patch of shadow. The halfa stared at it for a couple of seconds. Then a search light obliterated it, forcing him to turn to anxious NYPD guns.
"Don't move mutant!"
I am never coming here again. Never. Ever. I am going home. Right now. Ah jeez…do I even remember where the hotel is?
He took flight, bullets tearing apart the wall as he went intangible and invisible, vanishing into the relatively clearer New York air, smog tacking a romantically toxic glow in the approaching dawn light and heralding a long plane flight's worth of sleep.
The operative continued down the street of the awakening city, in some cases already takening their business elsewhere as the night cover retreated. An informative misson. Not one that told them anything they did not already know, but it highlighted the differences betweent he anomalies. The Hellspawn was retreating inside it's domian, back to the shadows to allow the fatigue it had not shown in combat. More use of it's powers such as tonight and the Maliboliga would claim another, a general. That would raise questions about escalating the Hellspawn's demise. Or how to better fathom his allegince before Hell's taloned fingers could close on him. The other anomile, the half ghost, was also returning to where he would be free to wage his miniscual war with the after life. Inexperienced, youthful, reckless, untrained, and above all a mortal, yet quite the effective hunter. If his talents could be turned to the proper use in the coming battle. The operative headed down a side street, abandoned in the chill red dawn light, and the sent confirmation to command for a teleport, and to prepare for afull report. Whatever the path of the halfa or the Hellspawn, Heaven would not be uprepared. A burst of gold illuminated the alley, and the final trace of evidence of what had taken place that night was gone.
That's it. Fics over. Go home. Oh wait, fun fact…Kevin Michael Richardson ,the voice of Skulker, has also provided the voice of Spawn for the Spawn: Armageddon game. Okay, now go home.