Isle of the Dead

An LLS Production

Prologue: Lanternes des morts

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me without my stir.
– Macbeth Act 1, scene 3,

Sometimes the sheer amount of things that anyone could live through was surprising.

Things had been calm, relatively speaking, in the United States' most haunted city and the only city which boasted of its own vigilante. There had been that mass exodus of ghosts from the FentonWorks portal months ago, but it was still a relatively quiet day for the defenders of Amity Park, as it had been a relatively quiet six months for said defenders of Amity Park.

Hence, the positive feeling of the Guys in White's Amity Park field office. Not that most people could tell from the men and women in white suits standing around sturdy cubicles, desktops, and generically whitewashed office spaces if the shiny glowing weapons disappeared.

The most senior agent was a bald man, his dark skin contrasting with the plain white business suit standing next to a giant printer. Beside him, another man, a Cancasian, walked away after taking coffee in a plain white mug. Around them, more people in identical white suits are either overlooking computers, muttering information to one another, or were taking a quick lunch break – in plain white lunchboxes, no surprise, though one enterprising guy had once brought a Phantom lunch box.

"Operative O, code P."

"Received, Operative K. Bring him into a contained facility."

Most of the Guys in White sat to attention. Since most of the staff were natives of Amity Park or Elmerton, aside from the commanding agents, they were very familiar with code P.

P, as in Phantom, that is.

"Er, I'm just gonna stay outside, yeah, but I thought you might not want to make an ASS out of U and ME."

"Mr Fenton, please remain under three feet of airspace."

"Not that the rule stops ghosts from hovering around."

Operative O got a particular twitch. It seemed to happen all the time that Danny Phantom had looked close to sixteen despite having been around for about ten years following the Disasteroid incident. The guns weren't flying though, which indicated that they were restraining themselves for the moment. "You never ask for help."

"Erm, well..." Phantom looked discomfited. "I... kinda need a bit of help. Remember the Pariah Dark incident?"

As if anyone could remember the sudden disappearance and reappearance of Amity Park from the surface of the Earth over a course of two hours. "Seriously?"

"Serious. Well, he awoke months ago-" and this was new, important information, why couldn't Phantom just take a government contract?! "-and he's reorganising... It's been a bit... anarchic there."

"'Anarchy in the Ghost Zone'!" Operative K remarked. "Other news: 'Water is wet'!"

"Well, it's not going to be anarchic any longer," Danny sighed, looking both tired and happy for a young adult trainee teacher at Casper High, "because Pariah Dark finally agreed to ratify a constitution! Which is why I dropped by to tell you guys, that I'm going off-world for a bit. Have to make sure that things like slavery actually stay off the books."

"Wait, ghosts got organised?" Operative K echoed. "And they're finally putting up a system of government that they're actually going to follow?!"

"And now all the ghosts are just going by a new democracy?" Operative O added his piece after a long silence.

"Ah, yeah... no," Danny finally said. "Which is why I'm going off-world. To make sure the constitution is actually going to keep humans out of the Ghost Zone. The Ghost Writer's transcribing all of it, and if he says that Earth is part of the Ghost Zone... yep," Danny nodded at the collective grimaces, "not gonna be great. So let's pin the hopes of the human world on one Danny Phantom's efforts at government. Yay!"

So saying, Danny flew off.

Operative O looked at Operative K. "Someone get a direct line to POTUS. We're doomed."

Despite being a ghost, and a grown young adult, Danny still struggled under the compilation of the Ghost Zone's law code. It was a giant codex, which was much better than the scroll version written in Hieratic, and it was as tall as Danny himself. It was also going to be useless for anything other than recycled paper, once Pariah Dark and Walker finished deciding what constituted cruel and unusual punishment, and a new constitution was ratified.

"Nobody uses a pear of anguish anymore, jus' sayin'."

"We are not the one advocating for a Judas cradle, Sir Walker. We were saying, a Tablilla, thumbscrews, and a pear of anguish is more likely to continue species functioning. That is actually vital to prison operations-"

"Both of you might want to consider this book as cruel and unusual punishment, instead of actual torture devices." Danny tossed the Ghost Zone law code into the Keep's new throne room. The walls rattled as the book thumped onto the ground.

"Oi!" The Ghost Writer glared at Danny. He was seated in the throne room with his own desk, complete with floating typewriter and stationery and papers.

"Sorry, Andy." Danny glared at the room's other two occupants. "I'm now clear for two weeks."

Walker stood at the base of a raised dais. "Hello, punk."

From the dark throne rose the current King of All Ghosts. He had wild green hair, currently pulled back in a plait, and snow-white skin. The horns on his helmet remained, over a large scar over a patched eye, and a displeased frown upon his face. There were traditional depictions of Satan in churches that failed to compare, especially in terms of presence, like the King of All Ghosts owned the space around him. Pariah Dark gave a basso chuckle. It echoed in his throne room, almost like a Ghostly Wail by its scare factor alone.

"Health and happiness to you too, Daniel. Now then. Shall we begin?"

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