WARNING
AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS STORY IS RATED T. THIS STORY MENTIONS, REFERS AND/OR IMPLIES TO REPEATED CHILD ABUSE AND SEXUAL CONTENT IN PASSING, BUT IT'S NOT IN ANY WAY EXPLICIT. ALSO, THIS STORY VERY BRIEFLY MENTIONS A HATE CRIME. IF THIS TYPE OF CONTENT BOTHERS YOU PLEASE PRESS THE BACK BUTTON ON YOUR BROWSER NOW. DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT
WARNING
DISCLAIMER AND SECOND A/N: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING, BUT THE STORY. Danny Phantom and ALL related characters © Butch Hartman, Nickelodeon and VIACOM. Constable Stevenson, Judge Emery and Campbell © Reaper'sSenator2121. Any other OC's are filler characters for the story. Reaper'sSenator2121 was having slight writer's block so I offered to write an upcoming chapter set after what has been written so far as if I were Reaper'sSenator2121 myself, of course I'm not. This fan chapter or story is not meant to add or alter/change One Hit in any way unless Reaper'sSenator2121 wants to incorporate this into One Hit. Reaper'sSenator2121 has my permission to use this story or aspects of it to assist her in completing her own story One Hit as long as I receive credit when a part or parts of my story is or are added to it. This is a fanfic that was a personal challenge to challenge myself as I never wrote in Reaper'sSenator2121's writing style. It was rough and tough, but well worth it. I have Reaper'sSenator2121's consent to submit this story.
Stevenson's POV
17:00 hours
It is raining outside in the city of Amity Park. It always does. I'm driving to my apartment. It's the end of the day shift at the Amity Police Department and boy was it a hard day at work. I arrive at my destination. It's a dumpy place for some residents and yet decent for others like myself made out of brick and mortar with a concrete foundation. It's an old building and it needs work, but with daily ghost attacks it won't get the repairs it needs. It is workable at least for this town. There are 4 floors with 20 apartments per floor. I park my car in the very small parking lot at my complex and turn the engine off of my car. I take my brief case that holds the only case I've been assigned as of now, the Daniel Fenton case. This case is the talk of the town. We haven't had a human victim and a human perpetrator case in years. I want to desperately close this case quickly and smoothly with ultimate perfection as I do in all my cases I've been assigned. What a shame, he died so young and so soon. He never got a chance to live his life. Temporarily, I push any thoughts of the case aside as I enter the building and slowly make my way up the stairs to my 3rd floor living space. I don't dare use the elevator because one, it's an old elevator that still has its original parts that hasn't been maintained in a while and two, again with daily ghost attacks there is a small chance if someone is in the elevator and the generator goes out you're stuck for a long while waiting for help.
Here I stand in front of my door. I start to relax a little. I put down my brief case and take my keys out of my coat pocket and open the door. I pick up my brief case up and walk through the door and close it behind me. I turn on the overhead light on. I place my brief case down again, take off my wet coat and place it on the coat rack near the door for easy access in case I am called for something related to work. My apartment is cozy enough for me. Where I stand the floor has white tiles with black grout for easy cleaning as it is the highly trafficked area, to the right of me is a short but narrow hallway leading to one door that leads straight to my small but cozy bedroom and on the other the small bathroom. If I turn right to face the hallway, the door to my bedroom is at the end. On the right side wall is the door to the bathroom. The left side wall has a small door that is a "closet" of sorts which has a hanger to hang jackets and coats, but doesn't have that much room for that because it holds extra sheets, pillows and a cot or two in case family stops by unexpectedly and this wall serves also as a separator between the den or "sitting area" for me to watch TV or have a place to sit when I have guests over and the hallway to the bedroom and bathroom. Now returning to my present position, with my back facing the door, I pick up the brief case again as I take a few steps forward. To the right of me is the den/sitting area. To my left is an open space that serves as a door to the kitchen and a small table with 3 chairs which is separated by countertop. To the left of the countertop is the small table and chairs and place my brief case on the table and turn on the ceiling light. To the left of the table and chairs is a small window. I can see most of the people coming and going and assess the people who may want to enter the building. The view from the kitchen window leads to the sidewalk and the streets. On the other side of the countertop is the kitchen area itself. In the middle of the countertop is the sink. If I stand in front of the sink, a little more to the left is the dishwasher. I can fill the dishwasher while still standing at the sink. To the right of the sink is the oven. On top of the oven are the burners. High up on the walls above the oven is a cabinet for storage. In my case, I use it to store simple herbs, spices, salt and pepper et cetera. That is if I had the time to cook complex meals, but I don't. I'm always coming and going. I just cook eggs and bacon for a quick breakfast and reheat up the leftovers when I do have time to cook from the days earlier in the week at night. To the right of the oven is cabinet for storing anything. I use it to store the pots and pans. If I keep going right, there are more cabinets to store things and I use them to store plates, glasses and silverware. On top is where I place my coffee pot and microwave. If I stand in front of the coffee pot and microwave there is a door to the room where the "laundry room" is. This is where the washer and dryer are stored. It's a small room, but it functions just fine. To the right of this door is where the fridge is. After I placed the brief case on the table and turning on the light I walked to the fridge to get a few slices of cold pizza and a few cans of soda for dinner. I'm not in the mood to cook tonight. After retrieving the slices of pizza and sodas, I sit down on one of the chairs and ate the food. After I was satisfied, I washed my hands from eating the greasy pizza. I then opened my brief case to review what has happened so far in the Daniel Fenton case. This case is getting harder and harder to achieve an easy open and close result. Things are going all wrong.
Stevenson said grumpily out loud, "What the heck is going on here? Why is it so hard to get the right results for this case? I have a dead kid as the victim and another kid who did it. I have a confession from Baxter himself that he punched Mr. Fenton in the head causing his death. The confession and the witness statements should have sealed the case closed." Constable Stevenson thought to himself, here are my problems. First, Baxter had a panic attack. This is just a small snag, but still what a pain nonetheless. Second, Judge Emery refused for unknown reason or reasons didn't want to see Baxter right before the hearing. Oh, great. Another snag. Thirdly, Baxter on one or more of his nightly stays at the precinct he decided to talk to himself causing questions to be raised on his sanity. That's a good one. Now so far the three biggest problems with this case are: Problem number four, Baxter got tasered by my idiotic coworkers. Now I had to make sure that this little incident never happened in my records and make sure that my coworkers and Baxter never mention it to anyone and problem number five, having Baxter tased and by me using one of my severe scare tactics, I had to make Baxter have a psychological session. That wasn't the problem number five, but the "real' problem number five is the psychologist got up and left. Now Baxter can't have his psychological session. Oh, wonderful. Now my last two problems I have to watch out for. Campbell, one of my coworkers is becoming an apparent problem number six. He may tell the higher ups or some lawyers and the media what's really going on with this case. If he does, I'm positive I'll lose my badge for my actions so far. My last problem, problem number seven is Mr. Masters. He may help me with this case or he may not. If he doesn't help me with the case, he may throw the case out the window and/or cause even more problems onto this case due to his social and financial connections. After 5 hours of looking over the case file and finding nothing new to add, I yawned and said, "It's about 10:00 and I can't think anymore, I'm taking a break." I put the papers back into the folder and back into my brief case. I turn off the kitchen's ceiling light. I then picked up the brief case and walked to my couch in the den/sitting area putting the brief case down and turning on a lamp on a black wooden end table before sitting on my 3 seater black clothed couch. The couch is placed next to a wall with the back against it. Here in the den/sitting area has a light grey carpet instead of the tiled floor. All the walls in the entire apartment are painted white. From here, the couch, in front of me is a black painted wooden coffee table. Across the coffee table, I can see the separator wall that divides this space from the hallway to my bedroom and bathroom. My 27' TV on a black entertainment center is placed against the separator wall. I have a small speaker system connected next to the TV. Below the TV sits the cable box and a DVD player. I turned on the TV to try to find something entertaining. Within a few minutes, I was watching the news to see any updates on any of the cases the rest of the Department are currently solving or closing from the tabloid grapevine when suddenly the temperature dropped from 10 to 20 degrees lower than it was a few seconds ago. I shivered from the temperature difference.
"Constable Stevenson" something whispers. I couldn't believe I heard a voice from nowhere calling me so I thought the sounds I heard came from the TV so I turned it off. "Constable Stevenson" the whispers call again but it is louder and clearer this time. I definitely recognize it as a young male's voice. This voice is possibly a kid's voice, but definitely not too young to be a child. Maybe it is a teenager's voice? I'm not sure. To find out who is talking I replied with slight hesitance, "Who are you? Come on out from where you are so I can see you." The kid replies with sadness, "You don't need to know my name. I'm just another resident of Amity Park. I came to talk to you about two specific someones and to discuss something very important. I don't want anyone to see me the way I am now even to myself, but I have to. It's my duty to help people. You said you want me to come out, but be warned you won't like what you see." I replied, "Why won't you tell me your name? I need to know whom I'm addressing. Who are the two people we are going to talk about and what is this very important topic that needs discussing? As far as looks kid, I've seen a lot on the job nothing surprises me anymore." With an emotionless tone, the kid replies, "Everything will be answered in due time, Constable."
Slowly and surely out of the darkest area of the room I'm in I can see what I think are glowing green eyes surrounded by something black. What is that I think it is? A shadow? Could be. The shadowed eyes come more into the brighter spot of the room. Just as quickly as it moved, the shadow recedes away from the eyes starting from above them. I can see the beginnings of what I think is black and white hair. Wait what is that, black AND white hair?! How is that possible? Usually people and the ghosts that normally attack the city have hair in one color not two, unless you consider dying parts of your hair natural. The black and white hair changes color quickly as fast as the shadow moved. Where it was black is now white and where it was white is now black. The black hair areas were like it was a part of the rest of the shadow and tried to creep onto the white areas. The hair length is short except where the hair in the front of the eyes is long enough to fall over them. It seems to be messy or unkempt. The shadow stops receding at that area. In an area below the eyes I can now see a pair of hands. The skin color is the color of a pale Caucasian. As the shadow continues to recede, on his wrists look like black thick bracelets with chains attached. Wait! Did I see CHAINS!? It's as if he was shackled, but as I see it each wrist was individually chained to something say an invisible wall, but I KNOW there is no wall. The chains themselves seem to have an indefinite length and can go on into infinity. Again the shadow continues to recede I can see his arms. The shadow moves a long to form a shape of a misty black shirt. If I looked hard and long enough parts of the shadow recede even further and I can get a quick glimpse of what I can guess to be a white long sleeved shirt that was torn in many places. Just as fast as it receded the shadow covers the white shirt and becomes the shape of a black shirt again. This goes back and forth. The shadow here stops at the collarbone. Finally the shadow starts to recede around the green glowing eyes and this time, it slowly starts revealing the features of a face. This face still holds his child like features if this kid had continued to live his life in a few short years he would have turned into full grown adult. What struck at me hard was the huge bruise at the left temple. Not surprising, but odd. Could this have been the spot he got hit that caused his death? Then so suddenly in seconds it hit me like a ton of bricks. Internally I got very excited, but on the outside I remained the same. Could this be who I think he is? If he is who I think he is, I can't believe there is a possibility I'm sitting in front of a DEAD victim of my own case! This is a BIG case for a small town like Amity Park. I can in essence talk to Mr. Fenton himself if it urns out this kid is him! I can finally get ALL the answers I need to nail Dash Baxter to a jail cell for the rest of his life or for all eternity after he dies. This has to be Daniel Fenton. This kid, if he is in fact NOT Daniel Fenton he can certainly pass as him. Both he and Daniel Fenton did get hit in the head before they died. I have to remain calm and I can't rush to conclusions so it's better safe than sorry to ask the kid outright.
"If you are you who I think you are and even if you aren't the one I'm thinking of, you shouldn't be here. Shouldn't you be in the Ghost Zone?" I said and then asked. The kid replied tiredly with slight irritation, "I don't know. Who do you think I am, Constable? I told you already I'm just another resident of Amity Park." I practically pleaded/begged, "Please tell me who you are because once I'm done with the current case I'm working on I can try to solve the cause of your death and bring the one person or persons responsible for your death. If a ghost or ghosts caused your death and this ghost or these ghosts are too powerful for you to handle on your own then, I can get the GIW involved or when the time is right, I can get the Fentons involved to capture the ghost or ghosts responsible." In an almost robotic monotone the kid replied, "ALL the things you said AND asked me is EXACTLY WHY I'm here, Constable Stevenson." I was beyond confused so in order to confirm my suspicion of whose ghost this is I decided to play dumb. I want to hear it directly from the horse's mouth anyway so I asked, "What do you mean by ALL of what I said AND asked? Why are you here? What is it you need to discuss with me at such a late hour?" Finally the ghost's ghostly glow flared up and his green eyes glowed more brightly from what appears to be either anger or rage or even a combination of the two. All the lights that I had left on blew out as he roared, "EVERYTHING! THE CASE ITSELF! THE TWO PEOPLE I MENTIONED EARLIER ARE CONNECTED TO THIS CASE! I WILL NOT ASK YOU AGAIN, WHO DO YOU THINK I AM CONSTABLE STEVENSON?" This just confirms it. THIS IS THE GHOST OF DANIEL FENTON! This is the first time I am speaking to a DEAD victim of one of MY OWN cases! Most of the victims of the cases with human offenders I have been assigned to are alive. This is MONUMENTAL! I was so elated again on the inside and yet I felt sad for this kid. Just for a brief moment I felt guilty for playing a cheap trick to get the answer I wanted out of this ghost. I felt I had to do something to make up for it so I said with hands up in surrender, "Calm yourself. Please, Mr. Fenton. I'm really on top of your case. You have every right to be as angry as you are now. We both know he did the deed and I'll make sure that Mr. Baxter gets the highest sentence he so righteously deserves for the unwarranted act. I know who did the act, where it was done and how it was done to close the case at least for me. I do not need to know the why to close it. If he did have an actual reason to hit you for example, you threatened his life or another important person in his life I would understand the reason for his violent response. I would be working equally in his favor as I'm doing for you now. Since I'm 100% sure that you did nothing to provoke Mr. Baxter as proven by the witness accounts of the incident that has been written down and given to me, I'll work my damndest to get the sentence he deserves. I'm so sorry you had to die so young." Mr. Fenton calmed down just as quickly as his anger flared up. I'm confused by his sudden turn around of his mood. His face looked lost and confused. His expressions quickly showed guilt, tiredness, sadness and resignation in that order replied, "First off, I'm sorry I got angry enough to blow out your lights. Second, you think I'm here to make sure Dash gets the highest punishment for my death you're sadly mistaken. You're right that I'm here about Dash and his sentence, but not for that reason. Dash does deserve a punishment for my death, but he deserves a fair one not the one that people want to see or feel he deserves. Dash and this second person I'm here to help and discuss with you are tied together solely by my case you are working on. I'm here to talk about the second person's actions and the consequences of those actions in regard to Dash's prosecution."
Curiosity got the better of me. I had to know who this second person Daniel Fenton is referring to. It's eating me on the inside making me twitch. I also needed to know the consequences of a specific set of actions. What are or will the actions this person is or are about to do. If I knew the answers to these many questions then I can stop this person before he or she breaks any laws or harms him/herself or others along the way. If there is something I can do, I must do it. It's my duty. I cautiously asked, "Who is this person we are going to talk about? What are the specific actions this person is or will be doing? What are the consequences of those actions?" As if I never opened my mouth Mr. Fenton asked, "Let me ask you this, Why did you become a cop in the first place?" I was utterly shocked practically floored. My mouth opened agape. I couldn't speak. I didn't know how to respond. No one questioned me this way. It was generally understood by others around me that my position in the force, my choice of profession in life is what forces me to continue to do what I'm doing everyday. Putting people behind bars with the sentence that I feel they deserve. I parroted Mr. Fenton's question, "Why did I become a cop in the first place? What kind of question is that? Like everyone else, to help people." Mr. Fenton responded, "That wasn't the answer I was looking for, so let me ask it in a different way, What MADE you CHOOSE to become a cop in the first place? What happened in your life that made you choose the position of a police officer instead of a job like a teacher or a doctor, Constable?" I slowly start to realize where this line of questioning is heading. I have to tread lightly as I don't want a repeat of the lights with something more deadly to malfunction if I flare his anger or rage again. "Before I answer your question answer one of mine, why do you need to know the answer?" He replied, "You'll see. Now answer the question. Please." I answered, "It's personal. Technically, I shouldn't answer the question." Mr. Fenton countered quickly with a smirk, "If you don't answer the question then you won't get the answers to the other questions that are itching under your skin." My eye twitched and resigned and reluctantly answered his question.
FLASHBACK
It started about the time I was 5 or 6, we traveled back to my parents' hometown in the state of Washington. It's there I met my estranged cousins Derek and Stephanie. They are a year or two older than I am. We got to be fast friends. I noticed that both of them had strange bruises on either their legs or arms. I asked them what caused them and they replied that they fell. Being innocent at the time, I believed them. We all called my cousins by their names. No nicknames were used while adults were present, as my Uncle would get upset for using them. We would secretly call my male cousin Nick and female cousin Steph for short when my uncle was not present. The next few times I saw them I always caught them with a bruise or a cast on. They always gave flimsy excuses for their injuries. I begin to realize something was up. When I was 12, we traveled to a family wedding. I caught them again with even bigger bruises on them and Derek had another broken arm, but I didn't say anything because they were covered with tons of make up. Even Derek had some make up on to cover them up. I asked both of them what happened that caused the bruises to be there and asked how Derek broke his arm. They both replied with a lame excuse that I knew didn't match up. Derek claimed he fell off a ladder helping his father with something. On the car ride home, I asked Mom why Derek and Steph had bruises all the times I saw them. Her only reply was it's a "family secret". She never spoke of it again. All these years we grew so tight that we were like brothers and sister. We could tell each other things that none of the adults knew. We kept in touch any way we could. The next time I saw them face to face, we were at their graduation after party, and Derek came to me when none of the adults were present and asked, "You know what the 'family secret' is right, Bryan?" I had an idea of what it was so I said, "Uncle has been abusing you guys and Auntie for years, right?" He said sadly, "Yes, but there is something else I need to tell you." I responded, "What is it?" He returned my question with this response, "Since the wedding you, Steph and I were at when you were 12 nothing happened until about a few months ago. Dad started to touch Steph in unsavory ways and later graduated into doing the deed. Lucky for her, she doesn't have any children yet. If she protests from his 'advances' he beats her into a bloody pulp. When Mom tries to protect Steph, Dad beats her too. When Mom can't protect Steph, I do. I'm telling you this because there is going to be a time I can't be there to protect her or you to take my place. Her boyfriend, Mark, is a nice guy possibly taking my place if and when he marries her to protect her from Dad or take her away from all of this. I want you to get a job in Amity Park where you live that helps people like us and to be there for people in need. If you don't do it for me, do it for Steph."
END FLASHBACK
"My uncle was never charged of any crimes out of fear and embarrassment. Derek moved out and enrolled into a local University and graduated with high honors as a mechanic. He eventually moved out of the state and lived his life far away from his Dad as possible. Steph went to law school, graduated with high honors as well. She is in a good law firm and she did marry Mark, and they eventually moved away in essence protecting her from her father. I took my cousin's words to heart and became a cop," I said to Mr. Fenton. "Now that what the kind of answer I was looking for." Mr. Fenton replied. "Now answer this question and I'll answer all the questions that have been swirling in your head. What did you witness or what case did you work on that made you dislike your job, Constable Stevenson?" Mr. Fenton inquired. Again not incur his wrath I simply answered his question. "Well, while I was on vacation visiting family I was on my way back to my hotel when I witnessed a crime in progress. I saw two men beat up a third man. I felt I had to do something. I couldn't just stand there and let it happen especially when I'm right there so I quickly revealed to them that I was an out of state Officer and placed both men under arrest. I called for an ambulance for the victim and just as quickly I called the nearest precinct and gave them my statement. I asked the Officer handling the case to be kind to update me if at all possible. I told them that if I were called to testify I'd try to be there. When I returned to Amity Park, I hoped that I was called to testify, but of course, I was never called. I eventually found out that the poor man was beat up all because he was gay. What got me really mad was that nothing was done. The idiots got only about 6 months and were forced to pay for the medical bills. The man beaten up refused to press any further charges out of embarrassment. The ones charged should have gotten more jail time, but didn't. I kept on reading similar hate crimes and similar sentences in the papers. Other petty crimes like robbery and theft got even lighter sentences or the offenders got away scott free when family members got them good lawyers or paid off certain individuals especially when there was sufficient evidence to support the fact that they did in fact commit the crime they were charged of. I vowed to myself, any cases I got assigned to I'd make the offenders get the highest sentence for the crime he or she has been charged of."
Mr. Fenton stated, "I'll answer your questions now. You kept on asking me why I'm here and who are the two people we need to discuss tonight. As you already know one of the two people in question is Dash. The second person in tonight's discussion is YOU, Constable Stevenson. Yes, that's right. YOU. As you said earlier that Dash did punch me causing my death. However I will add, he did not do it intentionally. As I said earlier, he does deserve a punishment for my death, but a fair one. You asked me multiple times why I'm here. I'll tell you why. You can think of yourself as Ebenezer Scrooge and me as your proverbial Jacob Marley and at the same time, the Ghost of Christmas of yet to come. I am here to warn you of the possible consequences of your actions concerning the prosecution of Dash if you continue to handle my case the way you do now. The effects of the consequences may not begin to appear directly on this case in itself if at all, but any future cases you'll be assigned to. As you continue down the direction you are going in either my case or in future cases you will be assigned to, you are silently and invisibly forging the bracelets and chains you see on me. You will have one or more personal responsibilities you feel unfulfilled or do something you'll regret later on wishing you either did do it or not. Once the choice is made, you can't take it back and in death these bracelets and chains will appear on you and you really can't to anything about it." I quickly interrupted, "You're just a kid. What kind of responsibilities did you have on your shoulders or what do you regret doing or not doing to deserve the bracelets and chains?" Mr. Fenton replied curtly, "The responsibilities or any regrets I had are not of your concern and are irrelevant. I sense you are a decent man who lost his way doing your job. I'm here to lead you to the right direction so you can do my case or any case for that matter the correct way. Like I said, if you continue doing things the way you are now there will be moral and spiritual consequences to your actions. Think about all what I said tonight. I hope our conversation tonight leaves a lasting impression and lasts forever in your memory. Good night, Constable." The shadow covers Mr. Fenton back up like the way he was when he first appeared to me. All I could see was the ball of shadow with brightly glowing green eyes. The eyes and shadow retreat back into the darkness and disappear into the night. The temperature rises back to the way it was before Mr. Fenton arrived. After this encounter occurred, I suddenly felt tired. I picked up my brief case and headed to my bedroom. I turned the light on the main part of the room. I placed my brief case on the desk that is in my room. I put on my PJs, went to relieve myself and came back to the bedroom. I turned off the light placed the blankets on me, my head hit the pillow and saw and heard no more.