Ticking rang through the tower like a choir, as he waited in silence. Clockwork didn't need his infinite knowledge of the time stream, nor did he need anything more than common sense, to know that the Fenton thermos, which had been sitting on that pedestal for roughly 2 years now, was about to break. It was obvious, as there was only so much that Earth metals and ecto-energy could take.
So, to Clockwork, it wasn't a matter of if the thermos would break, only when. And, for once in his long after-life, he didn't know when, as what the thermos contained existed outside of time, and outside of his view. It was a hard pill to swallow, but it was true, and it had the time master on edge.
He did not know if he was going to die today, but it seemed likely. Though he'd long come to terms with his death, the fact that he didn't know if he was going to die scared him. Quite honestly, years of suffering didn't sit well with him, and he'd much rather not consider it, but it was always a possibility if he survived.
Crack. A thin fracture formed on the side of the thermos.
Clockwork frowned. He didn't like this feeling. He was dreading the future, as with each passing second he was getting closer to his misfortune, whatever it may be. He couldn't fight, it was a losing battle if there ever was one, and he'd be damned if he ran. So, he stood and waited for the moment to come.
Clang! The thermos tumbled to the ground, a few more cracks forming near the first.
It was a wonder the small soup container managed to last so long, being put under constant abuse for 2 years. It was heavily dented, rusted, and now nearly broken. One more hit would do it, and thus Clockwork would be no more.
And yet he was now certain that he would not die.
His own timeline had always been foggy, at best, but Clockwork just knew that he wouldn't die today. He wouldn't be the same after today, but he most certainly wouldn't die, and that fact scared him most of all.
Far more than the blue rays that burst forth from the thermos like a volcano did. Far more than the glowing red eyes that shined in the smoke did. Far more than the sharp smile, full of malice, did. And far more than the entirety of Dan Phantom ever could.
"Clockwork. It's been awhile." His voice was one meant for pleasantries, though his eyes were those meant for murder. "How long has it been? A couple years?"
"2 years." Clockwork spoke, voice level despite his fears. "What will you do?"
Dan floated towards the time master, eyes never leaving the other's. "Many things, with your help."
"And what makes you believe I'd ever stoop so low as to help you? I'd sooner cease to be." Clockwork spoke, the grip on his staff tightening. Something was wrong here. Something was wrong with the words that were being exchanged between them.
"Oh, it's quite simple really. After all, I'm always happy to help myself." From there, Clockwork only knew of pain.
Images ran rampant through his mind. He could feel himself being split into two, beneath a blinding light with sharpened blades. He could hear the desperate screams of innocent people, begging for mercy. He could feel the weight of a thousand sins on his back, slowly trying to suffocate him. He could feel a group of people trying to stop him. He could feel himself retaliate. He could feel himself striving for their suffering. Striving for his existence.
"Exist!" His mind repeatedly screamed. "Make certain that you will exist!"
Existence. Perseverance. Power, and sadism. Time shattered on the ground, and only those things remained, hidden behind solid red eyes. Teal skin and roaring white flames of hair embodied the rage that had intertwined with the broken pieces. A black and white robe and cloak hid the shattered urges and rage beneath it's eerie calm, as the clock it revealed proceeded to tick backwards, and forwards, and then he smiled, running a black gloved hand over the scar on his face.
In a baritone voice, full of a foreboding cold, he spoke and held up his staff , adjusting it's time. "All is forever as it's supposed to be."