It was just another day for Danny. Another. Stupid. Day. Ever since Sam and Tucker died, the hero's perception of life took a turn for the worst. No, he didn't turn to drugs or alcohol. Danny wasn't stupid. Nor was he a smart. That was the eighth time this week the A-Lister's decided to gang up on him. He didn't have the willpower to fight back. That energy was left at the gravestones of his only two friends. It was only a tuesday, and Danny was already contemplating suicide. Not that he hadn't thought about it thoroughly every other day of his now miserable life. What angered him the most was that nobody...seemed… to care. It was as if Sam and Tucker never existed in the first place. When Danny came to this conclusion, his ecto-charged fist had made a crater in the pavement outside the school. It acts a reminder to the young halfa that he has to keep himself in check or bad things would happen. No matter what the world thought of him, it doesn't deserve a fate under the wrath of a powerful and broken soul…
Like always, Danny had to wait until the halls cleared for him to phase out of his locker, which Kwan shoved him into ten minutes earlier. The raven haired boy's expression was locked in a hard glare as he slowly gathered himself back up and closed the locker. He could tell by the silence that the school was basically empty, the only remaining students being in the auditorium for band practice or outside for athletics. Danny remembered he left his books back in the locker rooms before being hefted out and into the hallways for his daily afternoon beating. If only they knew what he could do to them….
Danny rolled down the sleeves of his sweatshirt and made his way to the locker room. Upon entering the room, he was immediately greeted with a sickeningly satisfying sight. Dash Baxter, his tormentor, his bully, the person who makes him feel like shit, was on the floor, curled up in a ball, with a gun to his head. Dash's bloodshot and teary eyes shot up to meet Danny's cold stare. With a shaky breath, he spoke up.
"F-Fenton… what are you doing here?"
"Hmmm. What am I doing here? Maybe you should ask Kwan."
Dash noticed the books lying in the corner of the room. Danny's heightened sense of emotions picked up paranoia, depression, anger, and sadness, all stemming from Dash. Karma, right?
"Of all the places to kill yourself, you're going to do it in a sweaty locker room? How ironic."
"SHUT UP! YOU WOULDN'T KNOW HOW THIS FEELS! WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT SUICIDE?"
Danny laughed, irking the footballer. Slowly, Danny unzipped his sweatshirt and let it fall to the floor, revealing a bright red t-shirt underneath. What caught Dash's eye wasn't the shirt, but all of the… the scars, burns, and lacerations.
"Fenton… did you do that?"
Danny let out an amused chuckle, rolling up his red sleeves to reveal even more cuts.
"Well, I don't want to die without any scars now, do I?"
"You're sicker than even I am, Fenton, and that's saying something. How do you even go through with something like that?"
Danny's eyes met Dash's once more.
"First you have to give up, first you have to know… not fear… know… that someday you're gonna die."
Dash looked down at the gun in his hands, the mag half full and ready to fire.
"Why in god's name wouldn't you be scared of death at an early age?"
"Because after they perished, I was begging for it to come to me."
Dash remained silent, unsure of how to respond to such a statement.
"But there's a funny thing about God. I learned a very valuable lesson from losing Sam and Tucker."
Danny pulled up a nearby chair and continued his speech.
"You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you."
Dash's anger stemmed. Being raised in a very religious family, he was taught at an early age never to disrespect the Lord. He raised the gun to Danny, who, to Dash's surprise, didn't even flinch at the threat.
"Talk bad about him again and so help me I'll take you down alongside me!"
Before he could even register what was happening, Dash saw complete darkness. Fenton had turned off the lights without even moving. It was complete silence. Suddenly, the lights shot to life, and Danny was right in front of him, holding the barrel of the pistol. Dash lept back, giving Danny full hold over the weapon.
"Listen to me Dash! If We are god's unwanted children so be it! you have to accept the fact that you are going to die! No, not fear, accept!"
"I don't want to die yet! I wasn't thinking straight before! Just give me back the gun and forget this ever happened, okay?!"
Dash felt everything he knew and was brought up with fall apart at Danny's logic. It made sense to the jock, really, it did, but he just couldn't understand how Fenton came to figuring this out. Danny took apart the M1911 with incredibly timing and precision, as if he'd done it a million times over. Dash watched as he dropped the parts to the floor, along with the bullets, and kick them away. The psychotic halfa looked back at Dash with a curious expression.
"Dash, why are you trying to kill yourself in the first place?"
The jock slumped back against the wall and let out a depressing sigh.
"Paulina broke up with me, my Maserati got take away from my parents and I'm grounded for a year with no computer or phone. My athletic skills are going down the drain and everyone is angry at me because I'm not holding up to their standards."
After a moment of silence, Danny broke out into laughter.
"What? What's so funny Fenton! These things mean a lot to me! Do you know how hard it is to get through a year without a phone or computer?"
Danny looked up at him with a stone cold expression.
"No Dash, I don't. That's because I reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions."
Dash let out a giggle of despair, which Danny caught on to.
" You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh."
"Jeez, you're more rebellious than I gave you credit for, Fenton."
"It's only when you've lost everything that you're free to do whatever you please."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Danny put his sweatshirt back on. He collected his books and stood near the door.
"It means get your shit together and fight for your loved ones while you still have them, whether it be Paulina or your athletic record."
"But why?"
Danny smirked wickedly at the bigger football player.
"Because when you have the freedom to do whatever you want, you end up doing some bad things."
"I'll take your word for it."
Danny nodded and started moving towards the exit.
"Fenton?"
Danny looked back.
"Yes Dash?"
"Thanks for saving me."
"Don't mention it. Just remember when you or one of your posse decides to stick my head in a toilet or shove me in a locker, it's only because I let you do it."
Dash nodded, and Danny nodded back curtly, before swiftly turning around and exiting the room. The jock let out the breathe he was holding in and slumped the floor. Dash, for the first time in over a year, had a plan. And thanks to Fenton, he knew how to execute it just right.
Fin