Shatterglass

A Danny Phantom Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own Danny Phantom.

"Men are more prone to revenge injuries than to requite kindness." -Thomas Fuller

Chapter 1: Things Fall Apart

(A/N: I wanna be straight with everyone and state, for the record, that this fic is NOT a continuity of "The New Adventures of Danny Phantom," and that Statler and Waldorf are NOT in this story. This is, after all, an angst/drama story, so comedy takes a backseat this time around. One last thing: the theme song of this fic is "Invincible" from the MMORPG "World of Warcraft." If you like, you may find it on Youtube by a user named "PhantaxZdC." ^^)

It was a gorgeous, sunny morning that saw young Danny Fenton, hero extraordinaire, humming softly to himself under the throaty roar of the school bus's engines. Had the large vehicle's inner workings not mingled with the loud cacophony of students' chatter, it would have been an almost idyllic scene. There was not a single, puffy white cloud amongst the vast expanse of endless blue sky, and the sun glimmered and shone merrily like an orb of liquid gold as it bathed the streets in its life-giving warmth. If one listened closely, he might just hear snatches of birds' song beneath the puttering and stuttering of motor traffic as the fathers and husbands of Amity Park made a pilgrimage to their places of employment. The very air carried some inexplicable undercurrent of optimism and promise, and Danny smiled to himself as his hometown came to life on this fine spring morning.

Spring, indeed, was here at last. The butter-colored heads of dandelions defiantly thrust upward through the last remnants of winter's snowdrift, and the trees and bushes that had for so long been barren now sported an explosion of budding leaves and flowers. The bright, new green of fresh chlorophyll-scented leaves jostled for room amongst flower petals of azure blue, crimson red, royal purple and purest white. The morning breeze carried with it a sweet floral scent as it blew lazily about, and it would have seemed almost like an expensive perfume had it not been laced with the earthy aroma of fresh, dark soil. Slowly but surely, Mother Nature was freeing Amity from Old Man Winter's icy grip, and a feeling of renewal and rebirth pervaded all as the land was once again reborn.

Unfortunately, Danny was the only one to take any notice of nature's glory as the doors of the characteristically yellow bus opened with a sharp, pneumatic hiss. This triggered a frantic stamped of rushing humanity that would have been more appropriate for the African Serengeti rather than the inside of a school bus.

It was true, Danny thought wryly, that the mass exodus that followed the dismissal bell each afternoon would make even a herd of rampaging elephants dive out of the way.

But it was not to the familiar brick structure of Casper High that the large, mustard-colored vehicle came to a lurching halt that fateful morn. Rather, it was beneath the impressive classical-style colonnade of City Hall that found young Danny Fenton fanning away the stinging fumes of gasoline and motor oil.

It was, Danny conceded, an impressive structure. The elaborate marble staircase upon which he trod was polished with such care that he could see his own reflection in it. On either side, flanking the tall flight of heavy stone steps, stood two large, heavy statues carved of stark grey granite. At over seven feet in height, their somewhat worn and eroded faces were a testament to their age, the masterpiece of some long-gone artisan who had crafted them with so much care that the sculptures seemed ready to spring to life at any minute.

The statue on Danny's left depicted an armored knight, his head and knees bowed so as to give him a humble, subservient countenance that contrasted jarringly with the formidable-looking armor in which he was clad. The warrior's gauntleted arms and hands were outstretched with his palms facing upward, and his face bore an expression of loyalty and duty while he forever offered the blade in he held to all who passed him by. It was simple yet powerful image of selflessness, and the statue's silent message was reinforced by the brass plaque that was mounted on its base. It bore a simple, engraven message in Gothic-style lettering:

SERVICE.

Danny paused a moment, grinning inwardly, but no sooner had he started walking again than his attention was once more stolen by the statue to his left. This one was so emotional that it gave Danny a lump in his throat, and though he had never really been interested in art before, he could not help but appreciate the sheer power of the image that greeted his blue eyes.

It was a work somewhat reminiscent of Michelangelo's "Pieta." An old woman, her skin wrinkly and marked with age, contorted her face in an expression of indescribable grief as she silently wailed over the ravaged body of the young man who lay dead at her feet. Like the knight depicted across from him, it was obvious that this fellow was a soldier of some kind, but rather than being outfitted in the elaborate mail and plate of his counterpart, the slain warrior was garbed in a simple tunic and breeches that had been torn and cut on the field of battle, but it was the fletched arrow that protruded from the young man's chest that gave witness to the cause of his demise. The old woman was, Danny inferred, the man's mother, and so great was her pain that tears of stone were clearly visible as they were forever squeezed from the corners of her vision. Again, like the other sculpture, this work of art bore a brass plaque surmounted beneath its woeful image of sorrow. In the exact same Gothic font, it sent a lesson of its own:

SACRIFICE.

Danny's smile vanished for a second, for this concept was not unknown to him. How many nights had he spent fighting ghosts until the wee hours of the morning? How many times had he forfeited his grades and even his own health to protect those around him? And how many times had he come all too close to ending up like the unfortunate fellow shown here?

The ghost boy shuddered. Don't even go there, he told himself.

"Danny? Danny!"

The voice of Sam Manson jarred the teen out of his self-reflection. Clad in her signature garb of black shirt, dark skirt, and black combat boots, Danny Fenton's not-so-secret crush grinned sardonically at him.

"Admiring the scenery?"

"Kinda, yeah," Danny admitted, gesturing vaguely behind him. "I guess I got sidetracked."

"I'll say," Sam replied sternly, though her eyes were smiling. "Now c'mon, before Lancer notices that we're both missing."

"Right behind you," Danny said quickly, hastening to join the crowd of students who were now cramming and squeezing through the arching doorway.

"I can see why you'd like those," Sam murmured quietly. "It's rather fitting, huh?"

"Sacrifice and service," Danny replied, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The story of my life."

Sam giggled. "Don't you mean afterlife?"

"Hopefully not," Tucker Foley interjected as he sidled up next to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a casual air. "A half-afterlife, maybe, but I don't think anyone's ready for Danny to become all ghost just yet. Well, maybe Dash wouldn't mind, and maybe Paulina too, not to mention Walker and Skulker and-"

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here," Danny said irritably.

"Sorry."

"Quiet back there," Lancer droned. "This is a public building, Mr. Fenton, and we are not the only ones here today. Now follow me, ladies and gentlemen, and try to learn something."

Dash brushed past Danny roughly. "Trying to teach Fen-turd is like trying to get a fish to walk!" he jeered, to the hilarity of the football star's companions.

"And calling you a gentleman is like saying Hannibal Lecter has good table manners," Danny muttered, mostly to himself.

Tucker snorted to conceal his laughter. "Nice one, dude."

"Shouldn't evolution have weeded them out eons ago?" Sam growled.

"Nah," Danny smirked, trying to keep the conversation light. "After all, it took centuries to eradicate smallpox."

"Mr. Fenton!" Lancer's warning tone made the young man stiffen. A satisfied smile crossed the teacher's face. Students were all the same.

Seeing that his authority had been re-established, Lancer continued his earlier lecture as he led his pupils down a winding corridor filled with artifacts and pictures from Amity Park's history. His voice took on a lighter cadence as he pointed out various items of sentimental or archeological importance.

"Amity Park was founded in 1836," Lancer began, pointing at a worn, faded, black-and-white lithograph of a large number of people amongst a smattering of covered wagons. "Over 100 brave men and women set out from Philadelphia that year, intent on reaching the Northwest coast. However, inclement weather and faulty navigation resulted in the wagon party losing its way and, eventually, winding up here. Being lost and in unfamiliar territory, the journey took far longer than anticipated. Only fifty-two of the original two hundred pioneers ever reached Amity, and subsequent attacks by Native Americans reduced their numbers even further. For a time, it seemed Amity would simply die out, but by the time of the Civil War the town had made a resounding comeback."

"Which side did Amity fight for?" a student asked.

"The Union, obviously" Lancer answered simply. "This rifle-musket, in fact, belonged to one Lieutenant Colonel Robert W. Fenton of the 201st Minnesota Infantry."

All eyes turned to the weapon Lancer had indicated, resting balefully behind the protective layers of bulletproof glass. It was a rather ordinary-looking object, no different than any other mass-produced gun of its time: its iron barrel, now pocked with a smattering of rusty spots, was as old and weary-looking as the dry, hard timber that formed the rifle's stock and breech. Though it was rather dilapidated in appearance, what made the sight so sobering was the fact that this weapon had obviously seen some fierce fighting. Its wooden surface was chipped, dented, scratched and even scorched in places, its barrel scored and dented by many a bayonet and saber. Even the stock was heavily dented, as if it had been used for some great skull-crushing blow, and Danny felt the hair on his neck stand up at the silent reminder of a bygone era.

The ghost boy turned to his teacher. "You said his name was Fenton?"

"Correct," Lancer said, replying to Danny's query. "I believe he was an ancestor of yours."

"What happened to him?" Sam inquired.

"Lt. Colonel Fenton was slain at the Battle of Chancellorsville," Lancer replied, his voice somewhat sad. "He left a wife and three daughters behind, one of which, Mr. Fenton, was your father's six times great-grandmother. Popular legend says that the Colonel was found with six shots in his chest...and twenty enemy dead lying alongside him. Supposedly he went down fighting."

"Wow," Tucker whistled. "Who knew?"

Danny felt somewhat uncomfortable as many of his peers stared at him. "Yeah…"

Lancer gestured for the group to once again begin moving. "The Mayor will be here shortly to speak with us," he said, his tone growing sharp as the assembled alumni uttered a collective groan. "And if I catch anyone with an Ipod or cell phone out, heads will roll. If any of you need to use the facilities, now is the time," he added.

Danny didn't wait for him to finish speaking. A mist of cold breath escaped from his mouth with a slight hissing sound, and the young hero made a pretense of urgently needing to empty his bladder as he sped further and further down the corridor.

Lancer spared a glance at his fleeing student and seemed about to call Danny back, but a look of resignation crossed his face only seconds later. "Oh, forget it…"

Minutes later…

Danny felt a burst of cold air escape from his mouth once more, and the heels of his shoes screeched as he rounded the corner. That meant he was getting closer to whatever malevolent spirit had invaded City Hall, and Danny mentally braced himself for a fight as his sneakers padded loudly on the stone floor. The entire building seemed to be somewhat deserted, and that would have seemed suspicious under any other circumstances, but right now Danny was simply grateful that no one would be around to see him once he transformed into his ghostly alter-ego.

The young hero felt his heart race. Where is it? Danny thought desperately. I know I sensed someth-

There, Danny thought with satisfaction, his enhanced hearing zeroing in on a scattering of muted conversation. Again, his feet pounded the hallway floor like pistons, and as Danny closed the distance a pair of bright rings of bioluminescent energy signaled the activation of his mutated DNA. The trademark "DP" logo and black jumpsuit took the place of his normal T-shirt and jeans, and Danny's hair switched smoothly from raven-black to ice-white. His clear, blue eyes now burned with an eerie green.

Danny Fenton was gone, and Danny Phantom had arrived to take his place.

The hero came to a sudden halt in front of a simple wooden door, and Danny disdained the doorknob in favor of simply passing through it.

With his palms glowing with eldritch energy, Danny Phantom prepared to strike-

But was himself struck almost speechless by the sight of his archnemesis, Vlad Plasmius, standing over the Mayor's charred and brutalized corpse with his palms still smoking. The blackened husk that had once been Amity's leader still had its mouth open in a silent scream, and Danny felt revulsion and fury wash over him in a nauseating tide.

Vlad spared a glance at him. "I was wondering when you'd show up, Daniel," he said in his cultured, aristocratic voice that showed no remorse whatsoever. By his almost conversational tone, Vlad may as well have been discussing the weather. "Pity you didn't arrive in time to save him. I think a hero's greatest weakness is his own infallibility, don't you?"

"You'll never get away with this," Danny snarled, clenching his fists.

"Oh, but that's the beauty of it, Daniel!" Vlad laughed. "I will! But you won't." With a dramatic flourish, the villain pressed a red button on the late Mayor's hardwood desk. Danny had no idea what it was for, but to him it didn't matter. All that mattered right now was defeating Vlad.

Danny lunged at his enemy's back-

-But let out a yelp of surprise as Vlad's meaty fist grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the desk, hard. The wind left Danny's body in a massive whoosh, and he lay there, stunned, as his erstwhile foe glanced at his Rolex watch.

"Fifteen seconds" Vlad said simply.

"What?" Danny couldn't keep the confusion out of his voice.

Vlad gestured toward the red button he'd punched with such flair. "Fifteen seconds…until security arrives. But I didn't kill him," he added, reaching into the folds of his cloak. "You did!"

Then, several things happened at once.

Danny screamed as the twin tines of the Plasmius Maximus sent arcs of agonizing electricity dancing frenziedly over his body, and even while he writhed in pain his archnemesis disappeared into thin air. A blinding flash of light momentarily suffused the room, and Danny Phantom reverted to his human self-

-Just as a dozen heavily armed men and women stormed through the Mayor's office, summoned by the security alarm Vlad had so kindly activated.

Danny felt panic seize his chest as he transformed in front of their very eyes, and the fear and puzzlement with which they gazed upon him turned to anger and cold professionalism at the sight of the Mayor's body and the sinister-looking fork-like device that still lay on the floor.

"Danny Fenton, you're under arrest for the murder of Mayor Sanchez!" one of the cops said. "Cuff him!"

"No-wait-it's not-"

"Save it, ghost boy," the officer said flatly. "I imagine there are a lot of people who want to speak to you! First you create that mess with all of those ghost cops, then you cause an all-out invasion, and now you've murdered Mayor Sanchez! You're all out of favors and supporters, kid, and your days of terrorizing our city are over! I should have expected as much from a family of ghost freaks; no good ever came out of that hack job your parents call a laboratory!"

Danny sighed as the officer moved to restrain him. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

"For what? For all of the misery and harm you've caused us all with your gallivanting all willy-nilly?" the cop snarled back.

"No," Danny said, his voice quiet. "For this."

With lightning speed, the heroic ghost boy seized an expensive-looking chair and broke it over the cop's head before using its remnants to shatter the office window that stood invitingly only a few feet away. Shards of glass reflected the morning sunlight as they sprayed through the air, and Danny curled himself into a ball to lessen the impact of his immediate landing. The Plasmius Maximus may have temporarily deprived him of his powers, but Danny still had a year of experience to fall back on. He hit the ground running as bullets buzzed by his head like a swarm of angry hornets.

Running on pure adrenaline, Danny cut a zigzag route through Amity's back alleys and thoroughfares so as to elude the cops who were undoubtedly on his tail. He turned a sharp right-

-Only to find that this particular alley led right into a dead end.

The shouts of his pursuers grew louder, and Danny felt his heart almost explode out of his chest with the force of its thunderous tattoo. His eyes glanced left and right, desperately searching for a place to hide-

-There. It wasn't much, but the dilapidated wooden crate looked just big enough to accompany a teenager of Danny's size.

He dove into the wooden old box just as over twenty of Amity's finest caught up with him. It was merely by the skin of his proverbial teeth that Danny avoided being spotted.

The hero had to struggle to keep his breath quiet as the officers fanned out, weapons drawn.

"Where'd that kid get to?" a fat, burly officer asked.

"He probably disappeared," another said thoughtfully. "He can do that, can't he?"

"Well, wherever he is, he's not here," a third declared. "Send out a call to all available units! Hell, call SWAT if you've got a mind to do it! I want that ghost brat found, pronto! We know who he is and we know his name, so it shouldn't be that hard."

"Want me to put out an APB?" a younger cop asked.

"Absolutely," the older officer replied. "If he thinks he can flee Minnesota, he's got another thing coming! Now, c'mon, before the trail gets cold!"

Danny held his breath for what seemed like an interminable amount of time, long after the last pair of footsteps had receded out of earshot. When he determined the coast was clear, he cautiously emerged from his hiding place-

-Only to be scared almost into his afterlife as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Danny tried to keep the fear from his voice as he answered. "Hello?"

"Ah, Daniel," Vlad's voice, made crackly with static, sounded somewhat amused. "Still alive, I see."

"This isn't over," Danny hissed viciously. "The truth will come out eventually."

"No, it won't," Vlad said, his tone flat. "What are you going to do, expose me? Who would believe you even if you tried? You have lost whatever little credibility you had with Amity Park, Daniel. No one will believe anything you say."

"What do you want?"

"I want you out of my way for good," Vlad snarled. "Dead or incarcerated, preferably dead. You played right into my hand, fool! This was my plan from the beginning! The moment you stepped into City Hall, your fate was sealed!" The villain's voice took on a sadistic edge. "I wonder how it feels, Daniel. The feeling of knowing that I have destroyed and corrupted everything you have worked so hard to build, the knowledge that your little world has been turned on itself! Now all I have to do is sit back and laugh as the people you vowed to defend turn against you! Oh, and by the way," Vlad sneered, "a word of advice, Daniel: ditch the phone. What with GPS and all, they'll be able to track you anywhere. Run, Daniel," he finished softly. "Run, and know that you have lost."

The line abruptly went dead, and Danny crushed the expensive piece of machinery under the heel of sneaker. As he did so, a flash of eerie light let him know that the effects of the Plasmius Maximus had finally worn off.

With a grim expression and a heavy heart, the young hero took one last glance at Amity Park before rising into the sky.

For the first time in his ghost-fighting career, Danny Phantom fled.

Epilogue

The attractive news anchor flashed a plastic smile at the camera. "This is Tiffany Snow for Amity Park nightly news, with an update on the shocking revelation earlier this afternoon. The notorious ghost boy, Danny Phantom, has been revealed to be the alias of one Danny Fenton, son of prominent ghost experts Jack and Maddie Fenton. The local and state police are working with the FBI, Homeland Security and the NSA to achieve the apprehension of Mr. Fenton, who for the past year has actively engaged in repeated violations of the Ecto-Control Act as well as participating in vigilantism before committing the grisly murder of Mayor Sanchez. The official report states that Fenton resisted arrest and fled the scene shortly afterward, and still remains at large. Therefore, if you have any information on his whereabouts, please call the hotline number on your screen. A monetary stipend has been offered for any tips leading to Mr. Fenton's arrest." Then Tiffany's cheery expression became a little less bright. "This reporter is only left wondering if anyone is safe from this hero-gone-bad, and where he will strike next."

Vlad Masters lazily turned off the huge plasma screen TV, and a vicious smile crossed his handsome face as he flipped open an unmarked phone. The villain selected a number from the speed dial, and pressed the set to his ear as someone on the other end promptly picked up.

"Yes," Vlad said, after listening a moment. "Everything is proceeding according to plan…"

A/N: Hey, all! I know it's been a while since I wrote "The New Adventures of Danny Phantom," but I had this little plot bunny and I really thought the idea needed to be explored. XD I hope this first chapter has left you all wanting more, because there is much more on the way! The next installment should be up sometime over the weekend, so the wait shouldn't be THAT bad! ^^ And PLEASE REVIEW! If you have ANY ideas, suggestions, or constructive criticism on how I can make this story better, LET ME KNOW! Will Danny ever clear his name? What will his friends and family think about all this? And what vile plan does the diabolical Vlad Plasmius have brewing? Find out in coming installments!

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque