Preface and disclaimer : I'm somewhat of a traditional writer, apologies ahead of time. If you're having a hard time reading my old '03 writing style, I'm pretty sure I could have justified some explanation short of I am writing fanfiction about a cartoon, (incidentally, not anything I could ever have thought of myself). Seven years later, and I still typo rampantly, though. Anyway, relax, enjoy if you can: welcome to another side of Amity Park.
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Damian Gray cursed despite himself. Even he, this far deep into the rift, could not justify the years of research that this was perfectly harmless drilled into his head. He hadn't been sent on this lone mission: he had been forced to.
The brilliant green haze of the Otherworld rift laid a bare ten meters away, a vertical rise of emerald that shot to the sky, curving, dome-structured. No one knew what transpired on the other side, at least, noone alive. The mid-forties man shook his head; he was letting those old wives tales of ten-headed serpents and decapitated undead get to him. The barrier was firmly monitored thanks to the efforts of Madeline and Jack Fenton and their 'ghost artillery squad', as they fancied themselves. Said base lay more than twenty kilometers away from where he stood, heavily monitored day and night: short of a land rupture, nothing could evade the scanners.
Yet, it did nothing to ease him: he felt the very hairs on the nape of his neck rise at just being so close to the haze, the strange supernatural barrier that now cut across nearly half the state. His skin lit up vibrant-green as he placed his small carry on device as close to the barrier as possible without physically touching it.
There was a stale crunch as the device sunk heavily into the ground, only the blinking red light on the top protruding. With a small sigh of relief, Damien wiped his sweat-beading forehead with the back of his head. "It's done, I just placed the new probe into sector Alpha." he tapped the headset a couple of times just to make sure it was still enable. A familiar static greeted him on the other end, followed by a younger male voice.
"We just got the signal Mr. Gray, we're looking good at our end." A pause, and some more static. "Well, this is rather alarming."
Damien personally considered the fact that he was so close to the rift to be even more alarming. "Yes?" He tensed, waiting for the bad news.
"Well, after the first probe for sector A got, uh, 'eaten up' by the expanding barrier of the Otherworld, we haven't had precise or conclusive data about how fast this IS expanding or even, why." Almost five years ago, when the green-hazed anomaly first made its appearance, it was only the size of a small town. Now Amity Park was the only large, active metropolis left in the state. It was also the central town for all spectral-based research. "This rift seems to be moving at an accelerated rate, compared to the readings from last week. At this rate, we wont even have a few months before we have to evacuate the city."
Damien sucked in a deep breath, sharp, bitter, angry. He had just last month moved into a new apartment with hopes that things would look up. Half the residents in the city could not move due to family being tied in spectral research: and most of them would not leave without a fight. The Chief of Spectral Defenses craned his head up, giving the solid, impenetrable barrier one final, baleful stare. "All right, thanks for the heads up," he finally spoke onto his sleeve, "I'm gonna wrap this one up here, I just hope the research department can give us a better reason as to why this goddamned 'Otherworld' is still here."
Thank god his daughter Valerie had her part-time job this evening: he was going to need a long and hard drink.
***
Kneph[1] was still, irrevocably, gone. Though it had only been five human years since the Elder ghost had been sundered, ripped to shreds, the perpetrator yet to be found, it had seemed like forever since their world had been plunged into anarchy.
There were exactly five Elder spirits whose powers consisted of their very domains: for Pariah "Kingdom", for Clockwork "Time" (he was, really, the only spirit fascinated with the concept), for Pandora "Chaos", the deceased Kneph "Space", and himself "The Barrier". The five did not work in unison, but their concerted powers brought about a function in the spirit-world, one that had held since the existence of the Otherworld.
And now, Pariah lay sealed in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep for his sins, Clockwork permanently monitored by the 'Council' for his every action, and Kneph, well, dissipated. His absence meant the very absence of space itself in their dimension. The remaining elders had fought to the last reserves of their power to keep the spirit-world from collapsing entirely. The result was one half-stabilized Otherworld in an entirely new reality. Confusion had ensued at first, followed by chaos. Spirits were by no means as worldly as humans, but they also needed their bearings to belong; some even ventured to escape this 'new world', trying vainly to get back to what they believed were their old abodes.
And he had pressed all the rebellious back remorselessly. It was his domain to guard and there was a reason noone got even close enough to touch the barrier. He could sense them, those creatures on the other side of the rift, the strange and heavy, solid 'humans' that now poked and prodded at his domain. When Kneph was still in power, humans and spirits had been separated by an untouchable parallel space: now they shared the same, both their very existences threatening to collapse with just the veil in between as a truce. If he fell, then who knew what would be next?
He was halfway circling another round closer to the rift when noticed yet another intrusion: a small half-formed spirit, still pathetically clinging to their human form in wisps and tendrils. Large opaque eyes looked around, confused and frightened.
"Please let me go back. I need to go back."
They were always the same: sometimes they came in trickles, and sometimes just one by one, sad, scared, lost. And always deceased. Most of them did not even know they were just the spirit- remains of their former human selves.
With an abrupt burst of power, the Elder spirit extended his form outwards, transparent tendrils curling around the new intrusion. The small spirit did not even protest as they were effectively shoved away from the 'danger zone'.
Their assailant lingered for just a mere, uninterested second, and then left.
"No please wait!" It quavered with the last of its flickering energy, blindly trying to seek the Elder's presence. Even though it did not know what from why, one thing the child-spirit knew: this strange being was the only other that had singled him out. Now it was alone again. It trembled a bit, curling its semi faded legs to his chin, a very human-like gesture. "I still need to go back…!"
A nearby spirit, almost faded away to nothingness, felt a small stab of pity for this new child-ghost. So young… oh so young. "I'm sorry child, this is all that's left."
"W-what?" Large, scared eyes looked around for some sort of human-associated resemblance. The smaller spirit's senses were still unaccustomed to anything in this spirit realm. "Where are you?"
"I wish I could show you," came the droll reply, even just speaking the half-faded spirit could feel sparks of his energy fading out. "You'll be safe here." Better not scare the other too much as to what 'safe' really meant. "The big bad wolf is gone."
"Big bad wolf?"
"Yes him. The one who lets no one escape." His voice was already drifting away, it seemed so distant, even to himself. "Phantom."
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Project S presents:
A solely fanfictional production.
To Just Breathe
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Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The clock tower's spiritual gears methodically pulsated amidst the eerie silence. Clockwork's lair encompassed one of the largest domains, surroundings warped entirely to his will, fancies to reinforce his mastery over time.
In the 'spirit realm' (also commonly mislabeled words such as 'the Ghost Zone' 'the Otherworld' by newer presences), spirits only contained substance if they had a purpose. Stronger spirits developed abilities within their purpose, and even stronger ones a control over a dominion, a task they were bound to from the very essence of their ethereal being.
Which was why 'Phantom' was a little annoyed to be left outside of his 'domain'. All his senses were nagging at him. What if something happened while he was absent? What if something happened to the veil, the very fabric that separated the ethereal and human worlds? If a spirit could express agitation, he sure would have, an insubstantial substance brimming with frustrated energy.
"Patience Phantom."
The younger of the two spirits startled. Clockwork always had a bad habit of just appearing. He wondered if it had to do with the time-domain being unaffected by dimensions. Most spirits had a hard time getting past Phantom, he was honed to do exactly that: detect, hunt, and destroy the greedy spirits that got too close to the realm of the living.
The time-spirit slowly flickered into existence. Unlike Phantom, who always considered 'necessity over appearance', Clockwork favoured a solid humanoid shape, one of a semi-cloaked figure. Bemusement was evident on his face. "All in due time."
Phantom bristled, already-tense spiritual energy collecting to a malevolent green. " I am not here for your lessons," he hissed, "and your cryptic warnings should serve nothing to be but a sense of annoyance. I have never failed in my task of guarding the veil, even with Kneph's absence, and no spirits will ever evade me into escaping into the human world."
"Of course not, I never questioned that." However Clockwork was always one step ahead. "However, what if it was not restless spirits trying to get out, but humans trying to get in?"
The more impatient of the two Elders visibly recoiled. Humans trying to get into the spirit realm? The concept itself left a bad taste in his senses; most spirits were ill-accustomed to human presences.
"The humans have no clue what they are dealing with. I will see to it that it will not happen." His pride, his defiance in feeling challenged over his duty, blocked out all other useful advice the time-spirit might have managed to offer. All that spun through Phantom's head was a growing feeling of annoyance as he left the time-master's domain.
Clockwork remained expressionless, whimsically shifting to that of a younger form. His red eyes stared at Phantom's general direction, barely following other the other's retreating form.
"Ahh… but what if it has already happened?"
If he had feet, Phantom would be pacing. Restlessly he trailed down the edges of the spirit-world, intensifying his energies to scan for any signs of abnormality. Though he could not mend any rips in the often thin and unsteady fabric of the spirit veil, he was however dutiful in preventing cross-contamination until such potentially harmful tears were self-restored. No humans entered the Otherworld, and no spirits escaped. Or so, as long as his presence was there, as it had been for eons.
Something was hovering near a 'danger spot', an area often known to tear into the human world. Though it was clear of abnormalities, Phantom did not want to take any risks. With a rather reproachful tinge, he neared the other: it was a familiar aura, a lesser spirit who returned time and again to the scene without any fear past warnings.
However, this time the other spirit seemed to have caught on. They had adopted a strange washed-out form, probably from their latest escapade around the far reaches of the spirit-realm. Had a human been around to observe, they probably would have considered the form a little chubby and aged, not to mention outdated: overalls and large work gloves usually were not fashionable together.
Phantom coiled his energies around him, ready to strike a warning attack at them-
-And was treated a small "Beware!" followed by their rotund retreating form.
So much for anything being out of place. Feeling what might possibly resemble amusement at the escapade, the guardian spirit trailed lazily through the remaining danger spots, Clockwork's warning in the very back of his mind.
Perhaps if he had been more on guard he would have noticed the cloaked presence trailing him.
Satisfied now that nothing was quite out of place, he swerved, ready to go back to removing other misplaced souls. Or rather tried to, and realized, he couldn't move. Every particle of him was trapped, cornered in what seemed to be an invisible barrier surrounding him. Instinctively, Phantom lashed outwards, trying to break the barrier, only to meet an aggravating resistance. Defiance flared within him – who dared to contain him? – and this time he coiled his power together, let it accumulate, and struck out, violent green energy raging around him. The barrier shook and shuddered, breaking into fragments.
"Oh dear, I was hoping it would hold you for longer."
Freed and furious, Phantom didn't waste time to verbally acknowledge the voice that had spoken out. He was upon the intruder immediately, sweeping his energy outwards in a radiant, jagged arc-
-only to have it literally pass harmlessly through the intruder. They had adopted a strange mix between a spectral and humanoid form, pale skin and red eyes reminding Phantom a bit of another familiar spirit. He hesitated for one bare second and he looked – really looked – past the form and into their spirit-presence.
And stopped dead in his tracks, stunned. "Plasmius? The traitor?"
"Hmmm." This intruder, Plasmius, adopted a feint of human boredom, looking down at his fingernails. "Apparently I've adopted some new title."
Curiousity took over his anger. Phantom was both stunned and baffled. "You…were imprisoned. I watched Pandora seal you in her box for your crimes."
"Yes yes, I know of my own past. Really, is that all elder spirits are good for now, repeating themselves?"
Phantom hissed, defiant once again. "Then I'll rip you apart again this time, and send you into the pits of the voids to rot for eternity." Phantom was not human: he did not care how or why. All that mattered was this strange disturbance, this problem, be resolved in his fashion: destroying it. Gathering all the energy he could within him, he unleashed one of his more effective attacks. Wide concentrated pulses of emerald-energy swept outwards, literally rippling the very fabric of the Otherworld with the pure force.
Unfortunately Plasmius was – or rather, had been – part of the Council, before his traitorous crime. Overpowered at first, the other quickly collected their wits, withdrawing his spirit to a state of near-nothingness. The rest of Phantom's attack resounded into empty space.
His long ranged attacks rendered partially ineffective, Phantom hurtled himself at the other, this time re-concentrating his energies to form something concrete and combat ready. His being flickered for a second, mist transforming to a semi-solid state, enough to adopt a vague form, of malevolent green eyes and smoldering white hair. Without maintaining too much effort in keeping appearances, he lashed outwards, fingers curving into wicked energy-claws, trying to forcefully tear Plasmius apart.
The other hastily evaded the claws, lunging for Phantom's arms, forcing the other into a deathhold, his own red-violet energies pulsating to keep the other restrained.
Phantom snarled and buckled, unleashing a shorter sonic-pulse of energy at point-blank range. Caught off guard, it forcefully flung Plasmius backwards, giving Phantom the time he needed to lunge at the other, energy claws lengthened. However, instead of ripping into spirit-substance as he had anticipated, his claws withdrew instead a strange, solid compound.
Phantom was stunned. Plasmius was literally leaking some sort of horrifying red green substance. Plasmius hastily covered his midsection to prevent more from spilling out.
And for a lingering moment, Phantom felt both revulsion and fear. He backed away from the other, energy-claws dissipating. He felt tainted just touching the other. It was impossible… the only things that were formed of such true solidity were… "What…what… are you?"
Though injured, the wound seemed to be healing at a startling rate. Plasmius smirked as the last of the gash folded in on itself, warping as if it were nothing but spirit-matter. "Oh yes, I don't think I had time to introduce myself properly. I am still Plasmius but not quite."
And if Phantom had not been stunned enough already, he watched, horrified, as concentrated energy rings spread outwards from Plasmius…
… and left him staring at a human. "Allow me to reintroduce myself as Vlad Plasmius."
No. No no nonono. Mind hurdling at thousands of directions at once, Phantom stared at this abomination, disbelieving. Yet, it suddenly made sense, as to why everything felt so wrong. He wasn't staring at Plasmius, he was staring at a human affixed with the Plasmius's spirit-energies. It felt so wrong, a chimera of perfect impossibilities, as if someone had taken all the shreds of Plasmius's power and sloppily glued them onto this human form. How they had even fused together, mashing in meshing in some maniacal blender of creation was beyond him. Phantom had never heard or seen anything like this.
Clockwork had to know – the other Elders MUST know. This – this thing- was…
… A taboo. Literally the worse and most vile abomination possible. Humans were considered 'living' and spirits 'dead'. Humans did not come into the spirit-realm for a reason, as clear as the living having nothing to do with the dead. While spirits were at the best curious at the human realm given the chance, humans were impulsive slaves to their ambitions: desire, curiousity, hatred, fear.
And now, sheer impossibility. Something both human and spirit, able to mingle in the human world, and make contact in the spirit. Half-alive half-dead. Humanly greedy and spectrally powerful.
"You… " Was all he managed to spit out: he couldn't even get near the other without feeling some sort of nausea, revulsion. But if he didn't do it, who else would? There was no way Phantom would be able to warn the elders on time before Plasmius made their escape.
His focus hardened. He had to get rid of this…thing… once and for all.
With renewed effort, he struck out with once-formed claws again, this time going for the human vitals. This had to be finished, now.
And all Plamius – no a very human Vlad Plasmius did was simply hover there. The spirit realm being unable to process the concept of 'human', Phantom's lunge harmlessly passed through their form.
However, everything was susceptible to pure concentrated energy. Phantom once again coiled his power together, and with a snarl, released a single beam of emerald spirit-energy at the other-
-only to have it harmlessly deflected with a defensive energy shield from the other.
The Elder resisted the urge to shudder in disgust just at the sight of this human draining the spirit-energies from its symboite. Angrily he lashed out with another pulse-wave, trying to stun the intruder – the thing. It stalled Plasmius, but there wasn't enough time: they were already on their feet by the time Phantom tried to attack them again.
The abomination smirked. "I'm sorry Phantom, but you'll see that I'm rather…invincible here." He feigned breathing in with a large, satisfied sigh. "Ah… it feels good to be back and in power."
What was there left to do? Phantom exercised his remaining options, thoughts flitting back and forth in almost-panic, while his mind was consistently fixated in loops of revulsion. He had to-
-Too late. A large violet arc of energy came crashing down on him, nearly ripping his form apart. Any lesser spirit would have dissipated immediately from the impact.
Since when did Plasmius get so strong? The abomination was literally broken into pieces, power affixed wrongly onto some human, yet, still stronger. Phantom did not even have time to speculate as another burst of energy tore into him, agony lancing through him in pulsating shockwaves. His form shivered, trying to keep itself together.
Plasmius smirked, grabbing Phantom in their semi-solid state with his very human hands. He continued smiling at the way the other shook in revulsion upon the contact. "Oh yes by the way, it seems as if I've picked up a few toys in the human realm. Who knew they knew so much about ghosts, or what do you guys call it?" He pretended to ponder over this thought while subduing any counterattack Phantom could think of with another arc of energy, watching the spirit convulse. "Oh that's right. 'Spirits'."
Had Phantom not already been on the brink of post-consciousness, he might have noticed it: an abnormality behind them flaring to life. Part of the spirit-veil was beginning to warp and shimmer, reflecting the intrusion on the other side. Had Phantom been able to read minds, he would have realized he had walked right into Plasmius's trap.
But all he could think right now was that he couldn't lose. He had to warn the others, the other Elders, of this taboo. He still had so much to do…!
Using the last bits of his power, he dissipated back to spirit-form, dissolving from the other's grasp. Still shaking slightly, he tried to focus on what to do next.
And with a rather sadistic smile, Plasmius simply watched as Phantom tried to muster enough energy to escape-
- his smile transformed into an all-out cackle as he shot a beam of spirit-energy at Phantom, watching them fall right into the tear. The other did not even have time to struggle as the unstable rip in the veil hungrily absorbed him in an effort to repair abnormality.
Plasmius watched the last vibrant-green energies of the Elder trickle away into nothingness, the tear shaking violently as it assimilated his power, the very source of the energy that it needed to repair itself. Vaguely Plasmius could make out human voices on the other side, but he didn't care much for them. Soon he would be on the other side as well, ready to blend into the masses. Soon he would be once again Vlad Masters, multi-billionaire extraordinaire, to do anything he pleased.
And as the spirit-tear finally sucked everything within its radius with a final, deafening roar, the barrier, the solid mass of emerald that had protected the spirit-world for ages, quavered, flickered. And disappeared entirely.
Changing back into a more spirit-friendly form, Plasmius checked one more item off his mental to-do list. One more elder down… two more to go.
Except for the fact that he was just, a little, lost. Maybe he should have plotted out a map before wandering around to do this business. Oh butternuts.
*********
In what seemed like the last minutes of his consciousness, Phantom felt himself, the remainders of himself, being assimilated into the whirling mass of wrongness. The spirit-fabric ate away at the last of his own ethereal form, merging with him, pulling him into chaos. His very substance began to tear and split apart, joining the maelstrom, his senses howling with confusion and fear.
And suddenly, everything stood still, for one split second, Phantom found himself staring into a pair of strange, human, blue eyes. And as he felt himself helplessly plummet towards it, in a vortex of green, a strange alive agony filling his senses, rippling through him like an electric current, his last conscious thought was one of regret.
Who would warn them now?
******
Thump.
Thump-thump.
He groaned, woken up by the unusual and oddly painful sound. Instinctively, he reached for his power and pushed, trying to gain a spiritual sense of his current state.
Nothing happened.
Something was wrong, drastically wrong with him. He couldn't focus, could barely think, and worse of all he felt bound. Chained. Some part of him, the semi-conscious part of his mind cried in fear and panic, but his very essence was trapped. He felt something, a sharp rigid unpleasant feeling travel through him, and then a yammering of thoughts, not his own.
It hurt so much, he tried so hard to struggle, make sense, but it was like saving a drowning soul. The more he struggled, the deeper he got into the thicker waters, pools of foreign, strange thoughts invading his very consciousness.
"-anny are you ok?"
"Speak to me man."
Two separate voices, but there was something wrong with them. He –no his captor- no him, maybe both, groaned and stood up, shakily. His body gasped a bit, trying to breathe, and what was left of his spirit shuddered at taking that one breath.
"W-what happened?" He heard himself speak – no it wasn't him! He was trapped here…!
"Are… are you seriously okay, Danny?" Said a rather dumbfounded, slightly scared voice. It seemed sharper, female. He – Danny – knew this voice, it belonged to his childhood friend, Sam.
Everything a vague blur, and suddenly, focused. The more he thought about being this name, Danny, the more human, and thus conscious, he felt. The wounded spiritual form could no longer even muster any semblance of coherence.
But when the bare remains of Phantom stared into the refracted metal around him at a face, a mask, with his green energy shimmering from the eyes, radiating his powers, he mentally cried in anguish. If he could, his spirit form would have shaken and wailed, quivering with every fibre in his being. In this broken state he could not even whimper. The not-him stared back, just as horrified at himself. At the abomination.
Fingers clenched together, struggling with every breath, he focused on the two humans beside him. Again his senses were quavering, he was losing concentration fast. At this rate, with the giant tidal waves of his physical being – of the human vessel- sweeping and crashing over him, there would be nothing left of his existence. Fear gripped him in his last few moments of consciousness. "I have to -" And then nausea, a foreign sensation, and he groaned as another wave of not-him splashed into him, trying to assimilate the last pieces of his existence. "I…"
Sam put a soft hand on his shoulder. "Danny, hang tight, I'm going to call the ambulance."
"No!" He heard himself say. Another wave of thoughts, and whatever his spirit-form had to say was silenced by his human one. "I… we just need to figure this out. I don't want to get in trouble." After all there was nothing wrong with him, all he had done was accidentally get a little too close the barrier right?
"Dude you don't look ok, you look really…ghostly." Tucker's hushed tone radiated the same concern.
"I'm fine. I mean, I'm still here, right?" Danny looked up, his flickering green eyes slowly fading his usual soft blue. "I- I just need a little rest, and I'll be ok."
"If you say so man." Tucker and Sam rushed by him to support him. He gratefully collapsed into their grasp. Even with their support he felt strange, lightheaded, and suddenly, very empty.
Wasn't there something he was supposed to do? It bothered him, but the pain and tiredness still reigned supreme. What would his mom and dad think about the accident? That alone sent another wave of fear and panic. There were so many things spinning in his thoughts…
… that the smallest last piece of Phantom that held any semblance of consciousness didn't even notice when it had finally gave in to just being the human boy, Danny Fenton.
**
The ground gave in for a split second, rolling and sweeping the crew on their knees before the surviving equipment began shrieking. Spending just a split-second to check that no one was hurt, Madeline Fenton poked her head out of the makeshift sentry tent, looking around the bleak landscape in confusion. They were currently seated in one of the stations closer to the rift, but it should not have expanded THAT far quite yet. Squinting, she shoved her red-tinted goggles over her head and looked for the familiar green horizon.
It was not there.
There was simply, no green chasm of 'wall' to even look at: instead Madeline Fenton was staring at the outskirts of Amity Park void of all life, choked with a pungent olive mist. And thousands of wisps, spirits once contained by the barrier, stared back at her.
For only a second.
She only managed one precursory scream before the stampede as thousands, millions, uncountable amounts of strange, ethereal spirits fled from their 'realm' into this newfound freedom. Some soared, incorporeal, through the crew, while others mischievously pulled and clawed at their tent, flickering close, teasing, teeming so close they seemed barely strands of smoke with voices and the odd macabre limb.
Madeline Fenton was not one to take chances. She had seen her share of specters from her controlled experiments within the portal, and knew that though most were somewhat harmless, spirits tended to fester over time and become more dangerous. Both her hands went on her belt, pulling out light, compact ecto-guns. They hummed to life, and blasted a curious pair of what seemed like oversized ghostly ferrets that had wandered a little too close to the tent. Fortunately for the ghost researcher, most of the spirits were more interesting in finding a new 'home' and paid her and her crew no attention, assault or none. Unfortunately , they were all headed straight towards Amity Park.
Terror gripped her chest as she reached in her belt again, pulling out a small radio. "Jack!" The scream was managed despite the thousands of shrills and wails of the spirit-stampede pouring over and around her. "Jack for the love of chocolate sprinkles, if you are anywhere near the Amity Park defense system, turn it on, the rift is gone and-"
"- I see them on the scanners Maddie-" came the thicker male voice from the radio –"My team is working on it, we should have barriers up in three…-"
Maddie watched, heart still thumping loudly as they made their descent into the still unprotected city.
"…Two…." Went the radio even as tendrils of spirits had already started obscuring the city into a smoky haze.
"One."
Silence, and then a lighter shockwave, this time a wave of gentler green that swept outwards from the tallest building in town. Maddie squinted, and then her eyes widened. The ghost-shield she and Jack had worked on was not just surrounding the city but engulfing it entirely. She could visibly see within the horizon the army, the remaining river of spirits pound at the now-barrier angrily before parting away, like water folding at a boulder.
"Ghost shield is up and operational, but we've got more than a view unwanted early arrivals." Said the same voice through the static. It sounded weary, tired. "I'll meet you inside Maddie, thank the swiss cheese gods that Damian had had the foresight to send out a probe this morning or we would have missed the scans entirely."
**
He heard someone groan, and flickered at them, annoyed. It was more peaceful like this: calm, relaxing. He almost felt like-
- And then he was up on his side hacking, lungs filling up with air from holding his breath for so long, heart pounding at what seemed like a million miles per second. The infernal thudding in his head would not subside, and he rolled out of the makeshift bed, feeling something strange and nauseating well inside him. There were a thousand, a million more tiny, strange, prickling sensations, and something crawled out from his mouth: was it his whimper or someone else's?
Immediately there was someone touching him, patting his back, the purely physical contact nearly making him nauseous all over again. How dare someone even think of-
"You okay Danny?" It was a grating female voice, radiating waves of concern. "Take it easy all right, we're here for you."
He tried to gather his presence, his power, but it was dwindling fast, the last few restored embers in the kindle already smoldering. It took him just a bit longer to rediscover how to talk. "What-" he began, and stopped, frowning. Since when had breathing been such a difficult task in the first place? Scared for a second that he had forgotten something as trivial as talking as well, Danny let his nerves do the best they could to soothe him, reciting a little bit of the alphabet to make sure he had not indeed lost his semantic abilities along with his common sense. "Wait, where am I?"
The female voice (Jazz, his mind insisted, her name is Jazz) chuckled a bit. "Well if it's any consolation, you got the day off school?" He smile turned much more serious though. "You're at home, apparently you got too close to the ghost-rift when it collapsed this morning and have been unconscious since. I had to send Sam and Tucker home: they wouldn't leave your bedside for most of the day."
Blinking both in confusion and shock as he tried to piece together what had exactly happened said morning, Danny turned around to look instead, at the window outside. The last tendrils of sunlight were creeping over the horizon, making way for the darker night sky. A sky that was tinged a strange, unnatural green that seemed both familiar and unnaturally foreign to him at the same time.
Jazz sighed, noticing her brother's change of attention. "Yeah, the ghost shield went up. We're on high-security alert right now: apparently there's still mobs of freed ghosts around town that the ghost hunters are busy cleaning up, nothing we should be worried too much about." Upon seeing that Danny was still, irrefutably staring at the window and the horizon outside, he put one hand on his shoulder, attempting to push him back onto his bed. "It's nothing for you to worry about, I'm sure they'll have everything back to normal tomorrow."
Her shove met a stubborn resilience as his shoulder refused to budge. Danny simply stared back at her, and for a second Jazz could have sworn his eyes were flecked an intense green, perhaps illuminating the glare of the shield-cast sky. "I knew it." He murmured, a strange tinge of despair in his voice.
"They're just ghosts." Jazz reasoned, startled at how serious her brother was taking this entire lockdown situation. "They can't do us much harm anyway." For a family of ghost hunters, Jazz had always been the most logical and optimistic one about the situation.
And yet, as she closed the door to finally give her brother some more rest, she could not help but notice his gaze had never faltered from the now black-green limits outside.
******
He woke up in a fit later, startled and angry at the same time, his entire body shaking with known energy. Out, his mind screamed, he had to get out now. Just barely glancing at the time, 3:20am, Danny slid out of his pajamas into his jeans and t-shirt and crept towards the stairs. The door was still opened in the far room across the hallway; mom and dad still were not home. He easily slid down the stairs and outside with no intrusions. It didn't take long before the cooler temperature caught his breath, chill winds picking at his overly large sleeves, tousling his hair.
And for a boy of fourteen, perhaps barely one hundred-and-fifteen pounds, he felt heavy. Slow. He wanted to run.
It was a strange sight for anyone to behold, a solitary boy running in the middle of the night with not so much as a purpose, feet tap-tapping heavily against the pavement in oddly syncopated beats against the dead silence. For a day that had boasted so many invading spirits and defenses of the sort, it was still stiflingly vacant.
Faster, went his brain and he complied, mindlessly, feet driving harder into the ground, legs already weary from months of lack of any sort of regular exercise. And even at his very limits, his body screeching for more air, he wanted to go faster, he wanted to run. He wanted to fly.
Abruptly, Danny screeched to a halt. 'Whoah brain', he thought to himself, suddenly bemused, 'I know you want to be an astronaut and all, but this is a little too sudden.' Perhaps because it was only a one-sided receptacle, but somehow, his heart was not into the humour: some part of him felt intently morose on not being able to fly and he could not figure out exactly why. I flew all the time, that same, unhappy voice insisted, even when Danny had his arms propped to his knees, heaving gulps of air just for running. He suddenly felt light headed, dizzy, and for a second, it almost felt as if he was weightless, the memory of him soaring through his domain emblazoned so vividly he could taste the spirit-energy that passed by-
-wait spirits? That was the last time he helped his parents out with any of their horrendously obsessed ghost stuff. With a small sigh and a scuffle of his feet, Danny began the meticulous task of heading home, not even too sure now why he left in the first place. Why did he feel so incomplete? What had happened this morning in the first place, beyond the smoke and flashing mirrors: all he could remember mostly was his friends talking to him and a strange yet fleeting sense of urgency. Why did he feel like he was missing something so important, so urgent, yet unreachable, like an itch right on his arm that could not be satiated?
What had happened to being simple, plain, and normal Danny Fenton?
The teenager pondered this for a simple, morose second, looking up again at the oddly fascinating dome-shaped ghost shield. It soothed him a little bit for some reason, and reminded him of something familiar and belonging. 'I'm still here', he insisted, waving away any other strange and errant thoughts. 'I'm probably just slowly going crazy from all the ghost stuff that's been happening recently'.
**
"You're probably just slowly going crazy from all the ghost stuff that's been happening recently," Tucker concluded, after hearing Danny's strange outside excursions at three am in the morning. "Hey, other than flying, do you ever have those dreams where you know, you get these awesome superhero powers and then wham! You're like on this magical quest to save-"
"-Tucker, I didn't stay up to play online games, I actually went outside." Danny muttered, one side of his head pressed against his desk. Barely able to summon enough energy to keep his eyelids open, he chanced a look outside the classroom to where their teacher was still heatedly engaged in a conversation with the crew responsible for setting up the new 'ghost safety alarms' right over the new dry-erase board.
"Which you shouldn't have been," Sam responded smartly, giving her black-haired friend a hypocritical once-over. "God you look like hell Danny, you really should have stayed home. Especially after the… you know-" her voice lowered a bit, as she leaned over. "Are you sure you're okay, okay?"
'No I'm not', he wanted to say. 'I am exhausted, I couldn't sleep last night, and I still cannot shake off that horrendous agitation that makes me want to rip my hair out without even knowing why.' Instead, he simply groaned and planted his face into the desk. Perhaps by next morning he and said desk would merge together into one strange monstrosity and he would have other problems to deal with. He missed entirely Tucker mouthing invisibly to Sam the word 'ghost', while pointing at himself, followed by the word 'later'.
.
.
End Chapter 1
**
[1] Kneph: Egyptian name meaning 'spirit'. I mean we have a random Greek myth-based name, we have a name that makes no sense (seriously, Clockwork?!), and a name that just varies on the word ghost, so I thought, why not (haha)
AN: 16 pages, just 7000 words, size 11 type, sometimes I just scare myself. Sorry if this one was a little boring or confusing, I started writing one plotline, couldn't figure out the rest of it and merged two ideas together, heck I had the hardest time just debating whether to post the bugger as I peruse the DP fanfic a lot and didn't really want to see my fic on there ruining my experience, lulz.