A/N - i dont own Danny Phantom but this idea and this story are mine!!!

final chapter...oooooo...


Seven: Fisk


He chuckled, approaching her. "Well done little detective."

"My name is Sam." She spoke through gritted teeth.

"Such a pretty name. I must admit, I was quite surprised when you arrested poor, drunk, clueless Tim for the murder of three men. I thought detectives were smarter than that."

Her face was becoming tinged with red, her hands shaking with cold. "Why kill them? They did nothing to you!"

"No, but, my poor friend Tim. They tore him down. They took his chances. They stole his success!" Sam bit her tongue. She had to remind herself – the guy was insane, and there was no point arguing with him.

"Why do you want to kill me?"

"Kill you? Why would you think I would kill you?"

"The gun was a bit of a giveaway."

He laughed manically. "Yes! I guess it is. No matter. You'll be dead – it's that okay you know it was me. Me, all along. I did it. I fooled the government!" He sounded very proud of himself.

She scowled. "You didn't fool me."

"No. I suppose I didn't. It was your idiot team that was certain it was poor, drunk Tim, huh? You saw past it. I saw it in your face that day. From my house."

"Across the street?"

"Aren't you the clever one?" He snapped. "Why do I want to kill you? Vengeance. For my poor friend Tim. Poor Tim. Never was quite right. Always a little off. Little angry, little mad. Not right."

Sam backed away from the madman, who was now waving the gun around disconcertingly. He spoke again. "Why do I want to kill you?" He sounded as though he had forgotten that he had just answered that question.

"Let me guess. Vengeance?"

"Yes! Aren't you a clever one? So were the three losers. Clever, clever, clever. They were mad. Not right, too clever. I got them. I killed them. I killed them!"

He laughed hysterically. "They're dead! They're dead. They've paid. They tore down his career. They killed poor Tim's dreams. Killed them. So I killed them! They're dead."

He turned, folding his arms. Sam debated the wisdom of tackling the total psycho down from behind. When he turned, she stopped considering and focused on what he was doing. He frightened her, but she suppressed the fear.

She looked around her. There was nothing up there. The platform was completely bare. Nothing she could use as a weapon. The only escape she could see was the way she had come up. But she would have to completely incapacitate him to try that, or he would just shoot her on the way down. There was probably another staircase on the other end, but it was a long run, and he could still shoot her. Either way, she would have to completely take him out to have any chance.

It was growing dark. The season meant that the dark came very fast. It was just past twilight, and the only light was that coming from the fairy lights wrapped around the bridge, the Hollywood searchlights moving around on the other end of the bridge, and the spotlight on the man who had managed to still be speaking. Periodically applause sounded, but the noise was growing dim as panic began to grasp Sam's heart. She tried to ignore it, but it grew with every passing second.

She had no way out.

Suddenly, Fisk started walking towards her. She stood her ground, deciding that if she was going to die now, she would do it with flair. Why not?

He pointed the gun straight between her eyes. She stared right down its barrel, her chin high. Acceptance of her fate had succeeded in bringing her more calm than she had felt since Matt's death all those years ago. It had been her fault, but now it was her turn to go and, ironically, it was her fault again.

But the barrel lowered. She stared into the man's eyes, hoping to see a reprise.

Instead she saw a murderous, sadistic glint.

"Poor Tim's dreams fell down." he started muttering, well, insanely. "Fell to their deaths." He snapped to face her. "They fell to their deaths." He grabbed her arm. He leaned right in to her face.

She could smell his breath; see the whites of his wildly wide eyes.

"And so will you."

He pulled her to the edge. The possible reprise from death had filled Sam with new hope, and her previous acceptance of it fell to the wayside. There was no way she was not going to go down fighting.

She shoved the palm of her hand into his elbow, straightening his arm forcefully and pushing back his shoulder into an unnatural position. He yelped and smacked her head with the butt of his gun. He nursed his arm as she sprawled to the ground, leaping up again instantly, ignoring the pain and round-housing him in the gut. He bent in half but remained standing. She kneed him under the chin, then punched him in the face. He staggered back as she fought to control the agony in her knuckles from the vicious punch.

"You bitch!" he yelled as he touched his face and realized that she had split the skin. She was glad at least that she had caused him damage for all her pain. She braced herself for his next attack.

The crowd below started screaming and yelling with applause as the ribbon was finally cut.

But Fisk did not attack her. She had forgotten about the gun.

He raised the weapon and shot her.

Luckily the pain he was suffering affected his aim, missing her core. However the bullet still chewed into her shoulder. The crowd did not hear the gunshot through all the noise they were making. Besides, she realized it had a silencer on it.

She fell to the floor, clutching her shoulder, ripping at her lip with her teeth to hold back a cry. He stalked over to her and grabbed her neck.

She felt his hand against her throat, his rough palm digging right into her windpipe. She struggled for breath, scrabbling at his arm with her good hand, the other one hanging limply by her side, streaming with blood.

He seemed impervious to her clawing and tearing. She saw the murder shining in his eyes and knew that he was so angry he was numb to the pain. She herself had been in that state once before, but not now.

Now she felt everything acutely.

Black swirled in her vision, spots appearing at the sides. She could hear herself gasping for breath. He's choking me. He's killing me. I'm dying. The eight words swam through her head incoherently, yet their meaning shone through.

She was suddenly lifted off her feet; and the pain intensified as her whole weight dangled from the hand around her throat. He carried her away somewhere. She could not see where. Then the light intensity changed and she suddenly realized that he was holding her off the edge of the bridge.

Her whole body clenched painfully in fright.

But she was suddenly jerked back, tossed to the floor - and the death-grip on her neck disappeared. She coughed violently, clutching her neck; feeling her icy hands soothing the raw agony. She gasped in air, hearing it rattle through her damaged windpipe. When the pain had gone down slightly, she looked up to see what had happened to her would-be murderer. And her mouth opened slightly.

Fisk was viciously battling Phantom. The black outfit was difficult to see in the dim light, but the white hair and the glowing green eyes were unmistakable. They seemed to be evenly matched, but that was more because Phantom was doing less fighting and more dodging. She knew that he could take Fisk in a second but was reluctant to do so.

Suddenly Fisk kicked Phantom between the legs. He collapsed at the cheap shot, and Fisk cackled and kicked him in the neck. Phantom fell completely to the floor in pain, and Fisk aimed his gun.

Sam collected all her strength, bunching her muscles as Fisk grinned cockily, tensing herself. She sprang at the man. The gun fired off into the air as the pair tumbled to the ground.

And rolled off the edge of the platform.

Sam held back a choke of fear. This really was it. At least she went in style – saving a man's life, albeit an idiot, and probably stalker's life, and taking a murderer with her. She pushed off from Fisk as he began flailing his arms madly, and she fell gracefully through the air, her back to the ground.

She heard hundreds of screams around her – none of them hers. Screaming was pointless.

Suddenly a hand appeared on either side of her waist. She felt them sliding around her and looked up into the piercing green eyes of Phantom. The moron had jumped after her? So not only was he probably creepily following her around - as he seemd to be there whenever she happened to be in trouble - but he was even stupider than she had thought.

Difficult.

It took her a long moment to realize that they were no longer falling.

It took her a little longer to reach her next deduction.

"You're flying!" She croaked out painfully, unsure if he actually understood her, as even she had trouble making out her words. Her hand went to her crushed throat.

He nodded slowly. "Are you alright?"

"I guess." Each word was agony to bark out. She felt a surge of fear when she realized how high they were, and slipped her hands onto his forearms for support, fighting back the wave of pain in her injured shoulder.

"Your hands are cold." he said. She just stared at him, barely noticing the fact that they had just landed on the bridge, and that the whole city was staring at them. He pulled off his white gloves, one by one, and slipped them onto her tiny hands. "Better?"

She did not reply.

"Well, I hope you're alright." he said, sounding sincere. Then he dematerialized into the air. The hands that had made their way back to his forearms after they had been gloved clenched together in the sudden absence of what they had been holding.

Her mouth was slightly open.


The crushed body of Dalton Fisk was covered with a sheet and loaded into a van on a white stretcher. Sam had a blanket around her shoulders and an ice pack on her neck, which was already promising to show a spectacular bruise. Her shoulder had already been bandaged. She had been told that she would not need any further attention to it, as the bullet had only just skimmed the skin.

A woman approached her. Sam recognized her instantly. It was Sarah Herman; the woman who had offered her the job at the FBI.

"Hello, Samantha. You've had an interesting night." Sam nodded with a small smile. "Are you alright?" Sam nodded again. "Well, we're impressed with you. Catching the real villain here, saving Phantom. Good job. We're impressed." She repeated herself.

Sam nodded in gratitude, loathe to even attempt to speak.

She looked up at the stars as the woman retreated, Jennie putting her hand gently on her friend's uninjured shoulder. Another case solved for Unit 615.

"So," Sam croaked, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"


please review!!! if you guys liked it i'll do another sequel - and there will be a lot more Danny in this one ;) lots of you have been asking for that!!!!

until next time!

FunkyFish1991 xXx