Prompt from Dash (the Cinderninja)
I wondered what would happen if there was a governing power over the universe that refused to let the line between life and death be crossed. It came out all vague and mysterious, but hopefully you'll catch on to what's happening. There's also a bit of gory description from all of the possible ways the accident could have gone wrong in alternate time lines, so just be warned that that's coming if you're a bit squeamish about that sort of thing.
Atonement
December 4, 2012
They stood silently, side by side, in what could be better described as a dark, misty emptiness rather than a room or tangible place of any kind. Barely moving, all of their attention was concentrated on the circular screen that rose out of the mist.
Images flickered across it, barely staying long enough to be registered in their vision, but it was long enough for those who had been trained in the art of watching since before the dawn of time.
A realm of swirling green.
Flash of lightning.
The gentle fluttering of a curtain.
A school of fish, shimmering together in a whirlwind beneath the waves.
A red rose, wilting.
The cracks of whips. And the screams of men and beast.
The green landscape filled with doors, purple, green.
The gentle plucking of harp strings.
The laughter of a small child.
A kiss. A scream. A tear.
A lonely snowflake in the bitter winter night.
A popsicle melting over chubby fingers.
Again, the swirling green expanse.
A prowling tiger.
The turning of a page in a book.
A crown lowered to a head.
At a pass of the staff grasped firmly by one of the two watchers, the images began to slow until they became recognizable as things in their own right, slivers of life from some place at some time. Now they were focusing on one event and then another and another.
Finally they were joined together by some coherent sense of reason. Each of these new visions took place in the same location— a metal-cased room filled with scientific equipment, bubbling beakers, and sparking wires. Set in the solid wall was a metal tunnel, a hexagon surrounding a yellow and black hazard-striped door, now forced open and smoking against its restraints.
Kneeling in the middle of the floor was the blackened form of a child. A scream killed in his throat and arms disintegrating in charred flakes as they desperately tried to protect him from the blast that had burnt him to a crisp. Smoke rose and froze as the staff hovered in front of it.
A swipe changed the scene. Not the setting, but the figure in the portal.
This boy was very much alive, jerking up and down as he twitched convulsively on the floor as he found himself unable to stop. He put out a hand, trying to find purchase to anchor him, but found nothing on the cold, hard surface.
Another swipe, another change.
The corpse of the same boy lay stretched out on the floor, pale and cold despite the smoke rising from his electrocuted body. A hazy, transparent version of the body sat up out of the body and looked around him, holding his head, and appearing confused until he looked down to see the horrid truth and hysteria took over.
The next change saw a boy kneeling doubled over, rocking back and forth and screaming until his throat was hoarse and raw. Ice blue eyes were pried wide open and his face framed by hands that clutched at his hair, pulling it until the roots were bloodied.
The next pass of the staff showed a boy sprawled on the floor, picking himself up to blink blue eyes around him and push black bangs back repeatedly as if it would tell him what had happened. Easing up, he held himself against the curving doorway before taking a staggering step and falling again to the ground.
The watching figure on the left, who had until this moment remained very still, wordlessly held out a long, green, curving finger at this image, bringing a momentary pause to the procession of flashing realities.
The one who held the staff, an ageless being cloaked in purple, replied without turning his head to look at his fellow, "It is not a viable option. He does not live in this timeline. The ecto-energy with which he was shocked overcame his system and he succumbed to an unidentifiable disease soon after."
The first figure lowered his hand, dissatisfied, and the second one sighed, almost impatiently. "I do not know why you insisted upon watching these possibilities in the first place. None of them come to pass."
The green hand moved again in what was meant to be a dismissive motion, but one which turned into a raking of the air, tearing the mist into smaller ribbons which curled up around him. "That is inconsequential," his hoarse voice rasped. "They might have come to pass, and we must remain apprised of all the possible outcomes."
"Yet they do not come to pass," the holder of the staff stressed again. "And it is not in my realm of power to choose one of these over what has already occurred. I cannot change the course of events."
"You cannot," the green man questioned skeptically, "or will not?"
The cloaked figure switched his staff from one hand to the other before answering slowly, "I am the protector of time, not its master. I both cannot and will not. Do not ask me again," he emphasized, as if he was not certain that his very clear message had penetrated through the obstinate skull of his companion.
"Because you refuse to change the situation, you force us to deal with it, Clockwork," he spat.
The man with the staff stiffened so quickly it might even have been mistaken as a flinch, but after clenching his hand around the smoothed wood, he returned in a collected voice, "And what situation would you be referring to, Observant?"
The green skinned figure snorted. "As if you did not know." He extended a hand to the screen, still frozen on the image of the boy in the metal tunnel. "By allowing this boy to survive that accident, you have allowed the most sacred of laws governing all worlds to be broken. The line between life and death has been bridged," his voice rose as he realized the other man was not as rightly outraged as he was.
"I know," the time lord finally replied.
"You know and yet you do nothing! This cannot be allowed. People who play with the absolutes of the world to create something as unnatural as this must be punished."
"They will be."
"They must be punished now," the observant demanded.
"It has already begun," Clockwork returned quietly.
"They are not dead. They have not been struck down." He stretched out his claw like hands to gesture wildly at the screen.
"They are not going to die," the time lord said. Before the enraged man could object, he continued, "Death is not the only punishment, as you seem to think."
"But what have you done?" The observant challenged. "Where is the sickness, the fire? I see nothing changed at all."
Clockwork sighed heavily. "And you can fathom nothing that you do not see immediately, is that not how you and your fellows work?" Before an answer could come, he continued. "Their punishment has, in fact, already begun. I have seen to it that they will not know what they have created; they will never see or understand." He paused to let the full weight of his pronouncement filter through the mist.
"I am appeased," the man finally admitted.
"I thought you might be," Clockwork returned with the beginnings of a bitter smirk.
"But that still leaves the question of the thing itself. What will happen to it?" the observant questioned.
The stoic figure quirked an eyebrow. "You wish for me to punish it for being created?"
"You eliminated the first, did you not?"
"I removed him from the time stream. It was better that way."
"Yes, exactly; now do it for this one too," the man ordered petulantly.
"That would not be the best idea."
"High lord master of time, let me remind you…"
He looked over with piercing red eyes. "You need remind me of nothing. I know all. I see all. I see more than you do, with your great pride on your eye, you and your brethren. I will not take this one out of the time stream."
"But he must be punished!" the Observant yelled.
"He will make up for his abomination."
"Will he be punished?"
"Do you mean, will I kill him? No. Do you mean will I hand him over to do your bidding for all eternity? Please, don't even entertain the thought. The world will be better for having him. I will not end his existence."
The silence stretched on until it grew oppressive, so that it seemed that even the mist was forced to slow its erratic ascent. But both figures refused to back down.
"And this is the answer you would have me give the council?"
Clockwork's glinting red eyes spoke his determination without the need for a single word.
"Very well. You take responsibility for this upon yourself, Clockwork."
With a swoop of his pointed garb, the figure disappeared from that realm, leaving the master of time alone once more.
"As I do for all things," he whispered to the empty air.
Finally sighing, he turned to wave his staff in front of the screen, turning it back to its frantic passage between a thousand disconnected images.
Then he slowly came to rest in front of a hovering platform empty except for a silver cylindrical device. He reached out, almost fondly, and pulled it up toward him. The ledge disappeared.
He stood there for a long time, just holding the thermos. Staring. Thinking. Pondering. Wondering if this was really the best course of action. Really the right time.
He smirked at that thought. Of course it was. All was as it should be.
Clockwork hit the release mechanism and a bewildered spirit spilled out and solidified in the middle of that empty space.
"Hello, Plasmius," the lord of time greeted.
At which point, Vlad, still college aged, is thrown into life in Amity Park to befriend and help Danny bridge the worlds and appease both races by protecting humans from radical ghosts and ghosts from hunters. He's sarcastic, cynical, and bitter that the Fenton's memory of him has been erased as part of their punishment for creating him… the first halfa. There are adventures, they both discover their powers together, and it can be the normal show with a twist from this point on. Possible non-creepy Vlad x Jazz later on? Lots of ideas, la di da, and I'll never end up writing it. XD