Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is owned by Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon. Probably others as well, but those are the only names I know of. None of them are mine, I assure you.
Author's Note: If I had my way I would have waited a few days before posting this so I could edit it, but I really wanted to get it up before I went on vacation, so here it is. My second drabble/one-shot involving the Danny Phantom fandom. Hints of Dan/Valerie in this, and mentions of violence. General creepiness as well, if I do say so myself. The things that come out of my brain sometimes, I swear. Anyway, reviews and the people who leave them get endless love. Enjoy the fic.
A Forgotten Future
"Hello Valerie."
It was always the same greeting. After ten years it should have been predictable. Yet it still managed to send chills down her spine when she heard it.
She should have suspected. Phantom was always the exception to her rules.
He always had been.
Her ectogun was loaded and pointed strait at his unmoving form. He leaned against the ruins of a nearby building with casual elegance and a smirk revealing his fanged teeth.
Hatred flooded her veins. How dare he look so smug? How dare he look proud of all this destruction? She hated him. Hated him more than anything else in the world.
"You're going down Phantom!"
He waved away her best attacks as if they were child's play, and that sense of furious desperation that he always managed to bring out in her was stirred in her chest.
She was going to fail again.
They both knew it.
He was just waiting for the day that she would accept her failure and be lured over to him.
After all, she had loved him once.
She hated him, and she told him as much as a solid punch was delivered to her already bruised body. She arched through the air and hit the ground with the sickening crunch of broken bones. Her vision swam.
He hovered over her. Now there was an expression of remembrance clouding his features. Even in her muzzy state she was overcome with nostalgia.
"Just finish it ghost."
A smirk and the strange moment of recollection faded from existence.
He reached out a gloved hand and soon she could feel the coldness of his touch against her cheek and down her face.
His hand continued to explore her body and the look on his face showed her everything she needed to know about the sick pleasure he received from her bleeding form.
Any other girl would sob and beg. She laid there and took it - refusing to make a sound. Internally she damned her broken ribs for not allowing her to move. To get up and fight.
To do anything to stop him and his actions.
"No Valerie. I don't think I will."
He laughed cruelly and withdrew his hand. His red eyes glanced from it to her with a look of disdain. He enjoyed her suffering and nothing else.
So he told himself.
"Bastard."
She spat the word at him on the brink of consciousness.
"Now you're just begging me to kill you."
Her body tensed and he watched with amusement. Taking over the world was surprisingly simple. He anticipated the excitement of Valerie's hunts. She was the only one who even tried anymore.
Unconsciousness took her and he grimaced. Humans were such weak creatures.
The hope they held was sickening.
He should have killed her then. Just as he should have killed her dozens of other times.
Something always stilled his hand.
He refused to dwell on it.
Just as he refused to dwell on many things surrounding his existence.