I don't own Danny Phantom.
The city was silent and empty; a sight that was strange and slightly ominous to see. That was what most major cities were like, nowadays. People fled either to the far countryside or to the few ghost-shield protected cities, if they could make it there. Phantom liked to roam the once bustling city; it made him feel like he was in a dream, even though he hadn't slept since he transformed...no, reborn into his new state of being.
He caught sight of himself in one of the large mirrors of a skyscraper. Most of the time, he avoided looking at himself. It was too strange to see his once dark, human hair be replaced with a head of engulfed flame, and teeth that onced smiled with friendship be distorted by fangs that glinted off the light of the sinking sun. His eyes, red as the blood that seeped into his gloves after a kill.
Phantom didn't like looking at himself. He didn't mind the changes: the eyes, the flames, the fangs. In fact, he relished in them. They were signs of his...rebirth. Signs that he wasn't the weak, emotional, guilty, fool of a hero he once was. No, the changes weren't the reason he avoided looking at his reflection.
It was the similarities, the remnants of a past that he left behind when he discarded the weak left overs from his transformation. He could see Danny Fenton in the shape of his nose, the angle of his jaw. The gangly figure he had three years ago was almost gone, thank goodness, leaving way for new height and muscles. But, he could still see it. And it drove him mad.
Whenever he was reminded of his past life, a faint tingle, almost a sting, would awaken in the back of his mind. It was the old grief and despair that he had felt after the Nasty Burger explosion, coming back like phantom pains. He no longer cared for anything in Danny Fenton's world, but it seems some of his emotions still won't let go.
He scowled at his reflection. "A face is a face. Nothing more," he said to himself. He turned away from the window; it was time to move on. San Francisco was no more; there was nobody to kill here. Only seeing red on his hands, red that matched his eyes, would get rid of these pesky phantom emotions that had lingered even after the whole experiment that should have gotten rid of them.
He took off into the air. Time to start the hunt.
I had this Dark Dan AU that I really wanted to write, but I couldn't find the words to start it. This is just a snippet into the daily life of the seventeen-year-old Dark Dan, I hope you enjoyed it.
If you have any critiques or comments, don't hesitate to tell me! And if you think flames are critiques, go ahead and write those too. And if you're one of my followers from my other stories, wondering what the hell is she doing and why she's not updating, don't worry. Soon.
Until next time.