Thank you so much for taking time to read this... I'm not a very good writer, and this is my first time posting anything online, so I'm kind of nervous and I hope it won't be too unbearable... :)
Danny/ Vlad Father son sort of thing.
Note for those who did not watch that particular episode (If you did please skip):
The Ecto Acne incident was where Vlad has an outbreak of Ecto Acne and asks Daniel for help. He threatens his friends and contaminates them with ecto acne. To prevent the ecto acne ourbreak, Danny Goes back in time with clockwork's help. However, he Accidentally changes the timeline to have Vlad marry his mom. He eventually manages to change it back and cure everyone with the help of a can of coke.
Some references to items and events in the show, but if you didn't get it, it's fine. They will hopefully get clearer later. :) No PP. And so without further ado...
One
Aftermath of The Ecto Acne infection incident…
The Fenton household was officially deemed safe enough to be removed from quarantine after the last overly large zit cleared from Tucker's face. Vlad was long gone, choosing to disappear before Danny could take revenge for harming his friends. One of his insanely long limos had pulled up and driven him away before the elder Fentons could insist on him staying over for a more through checkup. He had left without so much as a word of thanks to Danny. Not that Danny cared. He was just glad he wouldn't be seeing that cheesehead again for some time.
"So, Danny, how did you know that it was coke?" Tucker suddenly asked, between bites of his burger. They were hanging out in the nasty burger on a typical Saturday. They occupied the corner of the shop, close enough to the window, and far away from the center of the shop and the doorway so they could avoid the jocks. Sam had her tofu soy melt, Danny had a cheeseburger, and as usual Tucker had ordered every single meat related burger available on the menu.
"Clockwork helped." Danny responded cryptically. He didn't quite feel like talking about that alternate timeline where Vlad was married to his mom. That was just too creepy to contemplate for the moment.
"Dude, that's like, what, the second time he's done you a major favor? You so owe him."
"I know. I'm more thankful than ever, but it's not like I can just repay him… That guys knows, well, everything. Heck, not to sound paranoid, but he might even be looking at me right now, through that screen thingy of his. There's almost nothing I can do for someone that powerful." Danny sighed.
"You could bring him cookies. You tried that?" Sam suggested, half jokingly. "Everyone loves those."
Tucker responded. "And unleash the Lunch Lady on him? No thanks… Although speaking of the Lunch Lady, what about giving him meat?" He ducked as Sam threw a ketchup packet aimed at his face.
As predicted, this restarted the highly controversial meat vs veggies fight between Sam and Tucker, with Danny caught in the middle snickering at his friends' antics.
Little did they know, that Danny's next meeting with clockwork would come sooner than expected.
-o*o-
Clockwork knew everything.
Or so he claimed.
The truth was, he knew everything- except for what went on in the depths of the complicated minds of the Observants.
Oh, he could deduce it very well all right. It was almost easy, considering how long he had worked for that bunch of over glorified eyeballs. Their aims were similar. Their goal at the end of the day was always to ensure that life still existed and their reality didn't just collapse into a puddle of mush. There was one key difference between them, however. Clockwork still retained some semblance of humanity and compassion while the Observants simply observed from up high in their perch with their cold, heartless indifference and logic. It mattered not to them who lived or died, as long as their visions of peace and stability in the universe was achieved and maintained. As they say, they end justified the means. The death of one was easily justified if it saved the many. And it was this difference that resulted in Clockwork being stuck in his current unfortunate situation.
If you remembered Vortex and his trial, you would probably notice the eerie similarities between that particular occasion and the one Clockwork was in right now. They were in the high Observant Tower, also known as the Observatory. Except this one wasn't made to look at the stars. Its purpose was far more crucial and every decision made in here had the possibility of affecting millions.
Clockwork was stuck on trial, and he wasn't in the jury, he was the convicted. The courtroom was huge and circular in shape, with seats for the observants ringing the sides in increasing heights. Hundreds of eyeballs glared at him, floating in a prison that looked somewhat like a cross between a clear test tube and a Tupperware box on stage in the center of the circular court. It was the exact same scenario and location as Vortex's trial. The reason for his trial, however, was simple, yet complicated. The simplest version of it was that a few days ago, the Observants had decided to draft up and enact the Resolution, an act that, at the first glance, solves standing problems with the time stream and alters the course of time permanently.
Clockwork had disagreed with it.
"Clockwork." The head observant, looking down at him from a seat up high, called out. He was an eyeball just like the rest of them. The only difference was that the diameter of his eye was larger and he was wearing fancier robes that indicated his rank and status. "You are hereby convicted of attempting to act against the Observant court's decision to enact the Resolution. It has been seen as an act of rebellion and we will act accordingly to stop all rebellion, as per protocol. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
The master of time smiled wistfully. "Only to once again appeal against your decision. Nothing you haven't heard before…" he trailed off, speaking in his usual deep voice. He appeared to be bored.
"The council has decided through majority vote that the Resolution is in order. It is for the best."
"You do realize that your so called Resolution will endanger the existence of millions of lives, don't you?
"We have no choice. The time stream is unstable as of current."
"I was handling the time stream just fine, although I do appreciate your efforts to do my job for me."
"Your word is insufficient! What if it grows too large of a problem for you to control? Especially in that alternate reality where HE was created. Relying on a simple ghost containment device created by a mere mortal instead of immediate termination as we ordered. You handled that most brilliantly." The high Observant remarked, voice dripping sarcasm at those last two words, voice momentarily breaking out of his controlled monotone to betray his anger.
Clockwork smiled. "Perhaps, instead of fearing that my power is insufficient, it is the opposite. I am too powerful for you to control, and the truth is that you simply do not trust me. You fear the consequences should I shun my responsibility and turn against you one day."
The court was silent. As usual, there was a grain of truth in Clockwork's words. The Observant council shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The high observant, though, was not about to admit it.
"Whatever the reason for the resolution, the reality of it is, despite the sacrifices, it shall be beneficial to time in the long run. We've discussed it before, clockwork. The trial is over. I've heard enough, and my decision is unchanged. I hereby sentence you to incarceration within the Observatory for an undetermined amount of time for treason, and release pending the resolution's completion. By the time you are released, you will no longer be able to stop it."
Clockwork's face betrayed no emotion. The Observatory guards were about to lead clockwork off the stage, and the council had almost started breaking out in chatter when he finally spoke up.
"I believe you forgot something. All convicted are, by Observatory rules, allowed to inform one ghost of their current situation, aren't they?"
The high observant paused. He was hoping Clockwork wouldn't bring it up. It was the Ghostly version of a 'one phone call' allowance used in human jails.
"Who do you wish to contact?"
"I believe you already know him. Danny Phantom."
"He is not a full ghost!"
"You didn't seem to have any problem judging him like one in the past."
It was true. The Observants had ordered Clockwork to execute him during the Ultimate enemy incident, when they could only order a death penalty on Ghosts. He grudgingly conceded. "Very well. It is in order."
Clockwork smiled. All was as it should be.
-o*o-
Vladimir Masters was a highly efficient man.
The billionaire didn't believe in 'bad luck'. He believed luck was simply something insubstantial that was used as an excuse, something for the weak to pin the blame on when things weren't going well. Every detail of his life was planned. Fixed. Preorganized. You either had to schedule a meeting with Mr. Masters months before or, depending on your status and rank, days before at the very least. He had a reason for most of his actions. What he set out to gain, he got. (Maybe except where the Fenton family is concerned) And he certainly didn't do surprises or improvisation.
Which made what happened on that day all the more surprising.
A typical morning for him was much like that of every other business tycoon's. In his office, waited on by his secretaries. His workers and business partners didn't suspect a thing about him. Other than the mysterious lack of coffee that every worker seemed to require like a drug in the early hours, The suspicious days off he took at a moment's notice, and the secrecy and security present in his mansion and private offices, He acted like any normal human.
And it was according to schedule that he was standing at the front of a long polished wooden meeting table, addressing several other powerful men and women dressed in suits. It was something he had, naturally, planned for beforehand. It was barely lunch, and the halfa was already in the middle of one of his oily plans for sucking money out of others. (When is he ever not plotting something evil?) Personally, Mr. Masters disliked this method of business. It required extended hours of his person interacting with some of the most boring, selfish people in the world with nothing on their minds but self gain. He had to act polite and refined, and pretend he actually cared about whatever compromise or deal they could cook up.
But then, he was a master at manipulating others. Years of experience helped. So did ghost powers. But he couldn't simply overshadow them this time. Not now. At this stage, finesse was what was required. It was a delicate procedure, but he was fairly confident he could do it.
The décor was modern and tasteful, and hinted at designer origins. It was a meeting room. The place was not large by his standards. But it didn't need to be. The table only seated around 10 men. All the chairs around the table were filled with men and women, all either in their 50s or 60s and sprouting varying degrees of white hair and wrinkles from prolonged exposure to the stress and competiveness of the corporate world. The presence radiated by each of them was one of power and the stench of money clung to them.
The silence in the room was so heavy it was stifling, with the only sounds being the soft tick of the clock hung high in the room. But Vlad was not intimidated.
His personal computer was plugged into a screen, displaying the presentation that one of his secretaries had slaved away on. His speech was already pre prepared in his mind, and when he spoke, he did it with an air of authority. The content might be similar, but his was nothing close to your typical salesman pitch. Yes, he was trying to gain their money, but he did it so well that you couldn't argue with him.
"…and here, ladies and gentleman, you can see that working with DALV corp will certainly guarantee profit in the long run."
A balding man, one of the few still skeptical, spoke up. "And what about the interest rates? You must think we're some kind of idiot to not notice that in the fine print."
Vlad felt like dropping all pretenses and being openly rude. He resisted the urge with some difficulty. One simply did not become the richest man on earth by being honest. A smile still remained plastered on his face. "A valid concern, Mr.… Evans." The aforementioned Mr Evans, fortunately, missed the tone of slight contempt in the speaker's voice as his name was pronounced.
Vlad continued. "A 10% interest rate might be hefty, yes, but surely nothing unaffordable. Think of it as an initial deposit. Any money we will make will return your deposit in the long run almost tenfold, to the point where the rate doesn't even matter anymore. Surely a bit of smart investment couldn't hurt your company…After all, 10%'s nothing compared to what you could potentially earn…"
And so on and so forth. Remind me why I couldn't just overshadow them? Vlad inwardly groaned.
The morning dragged on, and when it was almost afternoon, the meeting was nearly over. All that was left was the video, the wrap-up and a short chat with those that still had questions. If he was lucky, he would have gained a couple million more dollars for his company before lunch. He was already looking forward to visiting the restaurant he saw the other day.
"And now, here's a short preview of what our company could offer." He pressed the play button on the remote control, and a video ran in the semi dark room, casting dancing shadows on the businessmen and women's austere faces.
The video was boring, containing a short documentary style story of the workings of DALV corp and the like. Vlad made commentaries at various intervals, further convincing his audience to see his way. He conveniently forgot to mention some of his shadier dealings, however, and the fact that he was probably going to end up swindling all their money were they to fall into the trap of trusting him.
So far, everything was going according to plan. It was just another typical day for Vlad Masters.
Not for long.
Like the flavors of a jelly bean, the video had a nasty hidden surprise inside that Vlad had no way of predicting. And he wasn't going to like it.
The DALV worker displayed on the screen that had a fake smile on her face, bowing to the camera, got frozen mid sentence. The video appeared to be jammed for the briefest of seconds, and a look of confusion appeared on the billionaire's face- something that only makes its appearance once in a rare while.
And the screen flickered and the scene was changed. It became that of a typical alley. It was dark and shrouded in shadows. Rusty pipes bordered the brick walls. The look of confusion lingered for a moment, and then disappeared. He knew that alley. It was located in none other than Amity Park. He remembered seeing it somewhere-he just wasn't sure why he knew that alley. It seemed vaguely familiar. But what was this doing in his video of his company? He had briefly viewed the video beforehand and he knew this was not supposed to happen.
The others seated at the table weren't aware that anything was going wrong. Some even appeared borderline bored. To them, it was just another part of the video.
Vlad, however, knew that it was anything but. His fears were confirmed when a neon glow appeared from the top of the screen, a ghostly glow that was captured by the camera. The source of light came from a ghost.
Vlad froze as Plasmius appeared on screen.
Somehow, someone had managed to videotape him in his ghost form. Whoever it was, he was going to pay. Vlad made sure of it.
One of the rare moments in his life where he was at a loss for what to do appeared. But he knew that he had to stop that video at all costs before it went out of hand. He went over to his laptop, resting on top of the projector, with fast, purposeful strides. He didn't want to arouse suspicion now, did he? With unusual swiftness, he pressed the pause button on the remote control.
He jabbed the pause button a couple more times for good measure. But the projector could have been broken for all the good that did. The video continued playing.
And it got worse. Familiar black rings appeared around the specter's waist…
Oh NO.
And all of a sudden, he remembered. The memory rushed back at him with the force of a hammer, much too late. He usually wasn't this careless. He never took the risk of changing in a random alley, but on that day he just happened to be coming out of one of his fights with the other resident halfa who called him a fruitloop and promptly proceeded to break his nose. Needless to say, he wasn't very happy that day. And in his bad mood, he became careless.
But whatever the cause was, he needed to stop the video before it all went to hell, bringing him and his company down with it.
The expressions of the others seated at the table ranged from amused, confused, to downright shock.
The black rings started to separate. They had managed to videotape him changing between forms!
This is NOT good.
Vlad, in a fit of desperation, moved quickly. He moved between them, using his body to block the view of the projector, and blasted the damn machine with a small but concentrated neon reddish-pink ectobeam from his index finger.
A spark of electricity and a loud band echoed around the room, and smoke immediately began wafting from the piece of technology like a coal pit. The occupants of the room gave gasps of shock and some rose from their chairs in surprise. Exclamations began to fill the room.
"What was that?"
"Mr Masters! Are you all right?"
He responded calmly, a courteous smile on his face. "Equipment malfunction, I'm afraid to say. My apologies for the inconvenience caused, but may I suggest that we continue in another room?"
Security personnel began filtering into the room, responding to the commotion in the room with their usual swiftness. No one saw the halfa's ectobeam, and the video was forgotten. It went just as he prayed it would, with his greatest secret intact.
He spoke to one of his secretaries about continuing the meeting in his place. He wasn't quite in the mood to finish up the talk. It could be done by someone else. The monetary gain from today's session was half of what Vlad had expected because of that little fiasco, but he couldn't care less about that right now. He had more pressing matters to concern himself with now anyway.
He was mad. Livid. Fuming. Like he'd never been before. It had come a bit too close for comfort, and while those dim-witted customers of his seemed to believe it was an accident, who knows what suspicions it could have aroused…? He had to investigate. And he had a sneaking suspicion of who was responsible. There were only a few individuals on Earth who knew his secret, and most of them were the dead. Or half dead…
Still fuming, he waved those security guards that buzzed around him away, grabbed his smoking laptop and stormed out of the room.
Someone was going to pay for this.
-o*o-
Danny sighed.
Math problems swam in his head, causing the beginnings of a headache to rise. His homework wasn't getting itself done anytime soon. Not for the first time, he wished that along with his ghost powers, he had gained some form of increased intelligence, or at the very least a method to complete homework faster. He put down his pen, planning to ask Jazz about it later. He was alone in his room, on a typical evening. For once, nothing ghostly related had interrupted him at all today. The Lunch Lady had dropped by once three days ago, and she had caused considerable damage to the cafeteria. Personally, he didn't mind as it had interrupted Dash who was about to stuff him into a locker. It was entertaining watching Dash run off as meat began to attack him, screaming like a baby. It was almost as if Karma was finally taking revenge on Mr. Baxter. After that though, nothing major occurred that Danny couldn't handle. Oh, and the box ghost had appeared twice today. But the box ghost really didn't count. All in all, a pretty good day.
Still, that didn't stop math homework from dampening his mood. He closed his textbook with a snap, spinning around in his desk chair. Danny flopped onto his bed, light blue covers rising slightly with the little puff of air that came with the action.
He sighed, blowing hair out of his face. Life had been undeniably good lately. Nothing had prevented him from studying, so he had been arriving at all his classes for a change. Mr. Lancer had been surprised at his constant attendance. His homework was getting done, there were no unscheduled visits from the ghost zone, and his parents hadn't nearly blown him to pieces unwittingly with one of their ghostly experiments. Yep, life was good.
But it was quiet. Too quiet.
With all the action he'd been getting since the portal accident, Danny hadn't known a period of time where he had gotten through even a day without some kind of paranormal intrusion. It was unusual. The same instinct that powered his ghost sense whispered to him that it was akin to the calm before the storm.
But for now, he didn't feel like killing brain cells pondering over something he couldn't control. Math had already done that for him. Jazz would have called it unhealthy paranoia anyway.
His thoughts starting to wander, Danny drifted off. He would have willingly taken a nice nap there and then, but as he adjusted himself on the bed, he realized he had accidentally squashed something when flopping down onto the bed. There was something poking uncomfortably into his stomach. Danny was pretty sure his room was messy, but not this messy. He never left anything hard on the bed. He had learnt that lesson after getting his powers. See, placing an unconscious person on a bed is so much easier if you didn't have to clear the bed and carry said person in your hands at the same time. But anyway. Danny rolled over so he was leaning onto his shoulder and pulled the offending item out from underneath him.
He would have thrown it to the side, if the cover hadn't caught his eye. It was a comic book- about him. He could have dismissed it as something those crazy Phans of his created again to cash in on his ghost half's popularity, but not just Phantom was on the cover… Fenton was, too.
Danny stared at it in shock.
He bolted upright on the bed, pulled himself into sitting cross-legged on the covers and quickly pulled the book into his hands for closer inspection. How was this possible? Did the media already know of his greatest secret, and if so, how? He flipped through, reading random pages. This book was eerily accurate. Most of the comics created with him as the protagonist were drawn with him looking like he had injected steroids into himself. The artists had no clue about what he was and what he did. Tucker had laughed at those. This one, however, portrayed Phantom in a more realistic manner. And whoever wrote this obviously knew Phantom was Fenton. Danny held the magazine in a death grip, as if he could wish it away if he focused hard enough. What the heck?
He observed it more closely. It looked vaguely familiar to him; maybe he had come across it while looking through one of Tucker's magazine collections. Tucker was the person who kept track of the media's opinions and articles about his ghost half. Usually, it was pretty demoralizing looking at all the insults people throw at phantom online, but sometimes it was funny looking at every little thing they blame him for.
His brain was still stuck in a state of shock when the space in front of his bed distorted in a circular motion like ripples in a lake. Clockwork's time-space distortion swirl appeared in midair, two purple clock hands materializing seemingly out of nowhere. The hands turned swiftly, transcending time and space, and a shadow stepped out. Danny's breath misted in front of him, and he snapped out of it to face the ghost intruding into his bedroom.
A huge green eye appeared out of the mist, causing Danny to flinch. Which was perfectly reasonable, even for one as hardened to the profession of ghost fighting as he. It was dead creepy. For one moment Danny's mind ran in circles, thinking up worst case scenarios. If the eyeball was already this big, how big was the body itself? The size of a building? Was it a dragon? The portal seemed to be from the ghost zone, but Wulf didn't seem to be anywhere in sight… Was it an army? Blinding white circles started to form at his waist in preparation…
And then a single observant stepped out. "Oh." Danny said in disbelief, relaxing from his fighting stance. Well, that was anticlimactic. Having never seen an observant before in his life, his following reaction was probably justified.
He poked the observant in the eye. "How you even blink like that?"
Danny could swear he saw the large eyeball roll his eyes… well… eye…in irritation. "Stop… Stop that!" The eyeball said, swatting the offending hand away.
"Hey! You can talk, Eyeball? But you don't have a mouth!" Danny grabbed the observant's hand, checking out his seemingly impossible anatomy.
"I am not an Eyeball. I'm an Observant!" The intruder sneered.
Danny opened his mouth to retaliate, but before he could go any further, the observant shook his hand out from the halfa's grasp. He tossed him a small, glittering item with a trailing chain, which Danny caught.
Danny looked down at his hand. The observant had passed him an intricately crafted pocket watch. It was compact yet aesthetically pleasing, silvery gold in color. The interior had three hands, with patterns along the thin strip or the minute and hour hand, indicating the time along with roman numerals etched into the sides. The center was transparent, offering a view into the inner mechanics of the watch, clicking along in mechanical harmony to create a beautifully crafted timepiece. The second hand swept about in periodical starts and halts, creating a chronologically accurate rendition of the unstoppable flow of time. Overall, the design was like that of a master clockmaker, as if someone had found a way to mesh the precision of mechanics with the fluid beauty of art, the design noticeably influenced by steampunk. It was almost anachronistic, A handmade work of olden dedication and intricacy in such a modern and mass produced age.
Danny flipped the pocketwatch close, and looked at the inscription on the front cover. Inset into the front was a beautiful red gem, triangular in shape. It looked innocent enough, but it radiated power and a sense of purpose that for some reason gave Danny a sense of DeJaVu he couldn't quite place. He looked at it for answers, but all he saw was the ruby gem glimmering innocently up at him. And around the gem, there was a familiar symbol etched into the metal of a C crossed with a W…
"Clockwork sends his regards."
Danny looked up, only to see the tail end of observant robes vanishing into the shrinking portal. He was left alone in the silent room with a pocketwatch in hand, undisturbed, wondering what momentous event he had gotten himself into this time.
Thank you SO MUCH for actually reading this story! Please tell me if I got anything wrong or how I can improve. Please be nice :)
