Cassiopeia

Chapter 10

Finally.

Danny flexed his aching wrists, the joints popping and rolling with the action. Ice made quick work of the cuffs; all he had to do was dip the things in water and freeze them. Add in a little force, a little bit of slamming them around and yanking, and BAM! Those cuffs were done for.

… and he was tired again.

Warming up the room after each freeze chewed through his energy reserves faster than he had anticipated. His core ached with a soreness not so unlike a muscle cramp after running. His heart, something that was usually quite tame in ghost form, was hammering away with palpitations. His lungs thirsted for air, for oxygen, and he just couldn't breathe it in fast enough.

He was spent.

But he wasn't done yet. He didn't have the luxury to stop now. If Spectra noticed that he was free of his bindings, then there's no telling what she would do. He had to get out of this cage, and he had to do it quickly.

Ice and water sloshed underfoot as he shuffled to the door of his cage. It was similar to a jail door, a lattice of bars with some oversized hinges and a square lock. It was slightly lopsided, like whoever installed it didn't ever consider that the resident could spring lose of the restraints in the back. It wouldn't take long to take down.

Splash.

The ground was slippery, and his boot didn't fall quite right. His leg slipped out from beneath him, and his core wasn't fast enough to catch him.. Freezing water hit him like a full body bullet, immediately causing his muscles to seize and shiver violently.

It's okay. I'm okay. I can do this.

Bracing himself, he pulled himself back up and along the wall. The room was small, so it thankfully didn't take long for him to make it to the doorway. He was cold, so cold. And hungry, tired, exhausted.

With his good arm gripping the wall, he aimed a wave of ice in the general direction of the doorway. It struck, hard, and the metal complained of the abuse. After one more similar strike, it was open enough for him to slip through unimpeded.

Once free, he pushed himself upwards, balancing in the air. His legs were too tired to stand; he had to float. He just hoped he could get through this. He needed to get through this.

Two options. One, sneak away. Two, ambush Spectra.

He weighed his options. On the one hand, he was completely and utterly spent. Just floating there was hard enough. If he managed to sneak away, then there was a good chance that Spectra could just track him down later. He looked around. If he had to face Spectra, then this was really the best place he could do it in.

The room was brightly lit, and it was covered in water and ice. This was the best advantage against Spectra that he could score right now.

Ambush it is, then.

He kicked and yelled, did everything he did to grab her attention like he did before. He needed her to think that nothing had changed, that he was still in his cage. He rattled the metal as he plummeted the ambient room temperature. Currents in the air picked up, tossing snow and ice and burning the bare skin on his cheeks. Ice flows crawled up the walls until it reached the ceiling.

This has to work.

The conversation above him stopped, and he felt his blood freeze with anticipation. The moments it took for Spectra to appear felt like an eternity.

She burst through the ceiling face first as anger flavored the rapid flicking of the wispy trails of ectoplasm stretching behind here tail. She started yelling something that was imminently cut short as she collided heavily into the first shelf of ice. It was transparent, giving Danny a good view of the surprise and rage that flicked across her face. She didn't expect that. Oh no, she was not expecting that at all. The gaping lips and wide eyes would have been comical if Danny wasn't so sure that that expression spelt his semi-immediate doom.

Her eyes told of murder as she took note of the current situation. More ice shuddered and burst from the walls and floor, each structure deadly in its own way. He half expected her to scream, to howl her frustration as most would be apt to do, but instead, she went eerily silent.

It was this silence that really, truly set him on edge. He was fighting a predator, one that hunted the living for so long that Danny was beginning to doubt that Spectra even recalled what it was like to be alive. To him, Spectra resembled a creature, a beast, a horrible hungry thing. She wasn't just a ghost anymore. She was dangerous, unthinking, unsympathetic. Sure she was humanoid. She had arms and sometimes even legs, but that was where her semblance to humanity stopped. Murder rolled off of her in waves.

When her eyes locked with his, Danny was suddenly very unsure about this whole "escape" idea. The cage really was the only thing keeping Spectra away from him. In that moment, he felt foolish for breaking free of it.

Spectra only had the time to blink once more before Danny flooded the room with bladed sculptures, spikes, and even hooks. He operated on fear and adrenaline mostly, all too aware of Spectra's predatorial presence. Two serrated blades sprung from his left, a misfire, grazing the side of his thigh, though he barely even noticed in the frenzy of battle. He was too caught up in the fray, too focused on landing a hit, too captivated with the heated throws of battle. He had to win. There was simply no other choice. This thing had threatened too many lives, too many family members, too many friends.

Perhaps, it was this focus on winning that blinded him to Spectra's current state. She was strong, rested, rejuvenated. Power sparked behind the madness that lurked within the red swirls of her eyes. Her arm, the one that had been lost previously, was no longer a quivering stump of ectoplasm. It was fully formed, rigid with a sort of imitated muscular structure that wasn't quite human. The air was alight with a dastardly electric charge that emanated from her form in all directions.

She had fed. Somewhere in the world above him was another victim, another soul that he wasn't able to protect.

Ice leapt out from all directions, clawing and stabbing at the ghost with little articulation. The actions were erratic, lumbering, and slow. Danny's core just wasn't ready for this battle. It simply did not have the strength left in it to outperform her.

She ducked and dodged the frozen arrays of danger with a grace that would make a ballerina cry. Her body split and twisted, the jet black ink of her ectoplasmic discharge decorating the room with a foul, horrible sludge. It smelt of lemon, but felt like dread. Misery hung in the air like a foreign substance, material in ways that could not ever be properly explained.

Amidst the exhaustive confusion and desperation, a smile stretched across the villain's face. Though she was so far out of her element, she could at least revel in the feelings of mortal terror that Danny was no doubt exuding. That much was clear. Her face was split with mania; her hooked teeth, too numerous and thin to be anything remotely human, lined her jaws like a shark. There was blood in the water, and she was not about to let him off the hook so easily.

It was over and done before Danny even knew it. One moment, he was throwing everything he had at her, and the next she was on him, pinning him in place against the metal bars of his enclosure. Metal and ice dug into his suit, probably bruising the flesh. It hurt, but the pain wasn't what Danny was worried about in that moment.

His attention was on Spectra and Spectra alone. She had him. Her fingers, now hooked like the talons of a raptor, gripped his flesh and easily tore through his skin. If he struggled, he would only make the wounds worse, so he hung there, suspended he dimly realized, as he tried to get the ice to obey him again.

He was tired, so very tired. And weak. He was hungry, beaten, and just utterly exhausted. Phantom was no different. He felt the flows around him shutter, but they didn't burst into life. No new additions to the sporadic insanity of ice. He was stuck. Spectra won.

And Spectra knew it. She had the uncanny ability to feel the emotions of others, and she revelled in the sweet nourishment of his own feelings of defeat. She grew stronger as he undoubtedly grew steadily weaker. Strength drained from his body with every drop of tainted ectoplasm that evacuated his body. Spectra greedily inhaled his negative emotions, furthering the damage to his own psyche. He wondered vaguely if she could kill him this way, draining him of his emotion until he was not but a husk of a creature.

"I wonder what it is that makes you Fentons tick," she purred as she leaned in. She was too close, some part of his brain screamed in a panic. Too close, too deadly. Instinct flicked his wrist, trying again to get some ice to spring forth and create some sort of barrier between him and her, but his core just wouldn't listen. "You're mother is fighting her misery just as well as you." Her hands squeezed, rending even more as the talons dug even deeper. "How!?" She shouted, mouth opened wide enough to expose more of her serrated needle teeth than Danny had ever wanted to see.

Despite himself, despite the exhaustion, despite the feeling of being drained, he smirked at her. It was nice, even in this situation, to continue to play into the ghost's frustrations. It could have been anything: a pained grimace or a spastic quirk in his lips brought on by mortal terror. But he knew what it was, and she knew what it was. Defiance, and he hoped that she could taste it too. He hoped that whatever sweet dinner she was currently making of him turned sour with the sentiment. He was going to get the last laugh if it killed him.

Spectra didn't find the gesture nearly as funny as he did. She threw him, her numerous claws dislodging with identical 'shck' noises as he collided into some spikes of his own making. Thankfully, he managed to miss the pointed ends, but that didn't mean that he couldn't feel the broad sides pulverize his rib cage. Stars danced in the peripheral of his vision as he felt the weighty heat of a faint slam into his chest. All the sound around him faded to a single tone that rang in his ear drums like the buzz of a broken speaker turned up too loud.

Some part of him was panicked, but that voice was getting quieter and quieter with each passing moment. He could feel the pain, but it was getting harder and harder to recognize that feeling as a bad thing. It was just there. His head was pointed upwards, his eyes open as he watched the disquieted currents of snow flurry in swirls above his head. Thoughts came and went with little purpose.

This was it, he realized. This was finally it.

He laid there wondering if time had stopped. Surely by now, Spectra would be upon him again, soon. What was taking her so long?

He blinked, and the action momentarily startled him as the world plunged into a brief darkness. By chance, he began to notice colors flickering in his peripheral, the lights morphing into kaleidoscope patterns from the ice. There was green, red, pink, black, white. So much white. The room he was in was all white and filled with beautiful snow drifts. He was in heaven, maybe? Hell?

He wasn't really sure, but couldn't find it in himself to really care either way. What was, was. There was nothing he could do to change it now.

Again, he blinked. Even expecting the darkness, he was still startled yet again when his eyes were closed. The ringing in his ears started to get quieter, but it was still all too loud. More colors flashed in the corners of his vision, lively and beautiful. Some percussive sounds that beat like drums… though maybe that was his heart still hammering to a sluggish rhythm.

Finally, the lights stopped, and something red hung over him, peering at him through a blackened visor. It took a long time to realize it was Val. How long had she been here? Was she dead too? Where did Spectra go?

He felt his body be hoisted up and slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The action hurt, he could feel the pain, but it was too far away to be real, so he decidedly ignored it. His mind grappled with the concept of Valerie's sudden appearance. She was here? Why? Was she just a figment of his dying mind? Maybe she was secretly the grim reaper… that'd fit with his crazy life he supposed.

Sounds swam in and out of existence. Some were vague words. Others were loud bangs as Val kicked her way through doors.

If he had the strength to, he would have laughed. Valerie, the Red Huntress and Grim Reaper herself, furiously kicking down obstacles and yelling the whole way. The imagery was too perfect.

Soon, they were in some dark hallways which eventually opened up into daylight. It stung his eyes, but the mobile green of the leaves was nice. The warmth of the sun felt good on his skin. The ringing in his ears subsided even more, though it was still not quite enough to make out words.

They approached something. Danny could tell because of how Valerie changed her gait. Why wasn't she using her hoverboard? There were more voices and shouting, a green shape materialized and melted away. A ghost shield, Danny realized. For a moment, he thought it strange for the afterlife to have ghost shields, but then figured that if anyone could really use it, the denizens of the GZ really could.

They climbed into another white room. This one was lined with platinum and green pinstriping. The Fenton RV?

The shouting turned into hurried whispers as he was slung onto a soft surface. He hadn't felt comfort in days, and the cushions felt heavenly beneath his body. He closed his eyes, content to just die there. It was nice, warm. Val was even there. It was perfect.

He relaxed, ignoring the voices that he couldn't quite make out anyway. This was nice. Far better than the creepy underground cage room, anyway.

And then, out of nowhere, he was slapped by a hand plated with metal.

Ow, Valerie. Really?

The motion jarred some life back into his bones. Pain flared up from every which way, each bruise, abrasion, and cut vying for attention. He rolled over to his side, groaning and curling into a ball.

Peace and quiet. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask for?

When he cracked open his eyes, two figures swam into view.

The most immediate and commanding presence was, of course, Val. She stood proudly, arms crossed, shoulder cannon trained in his direction. She was an angry red blur on a white background, and she was not about to let him forget it. A faint buzzing could be heard as her suit recycled ambient ghost energy. He hoped it wouldn't chew through the remainder of his along the way.

And then, in front of the bright red suit of armor, was another blurred form. Long orange hair, navy overcoat, and bluejeans. Danny smiled, happy to see a friendly face, though the gesture likely came out as a grimace. Jazz was knelt down, shoulders hunched and bent with worry. Her long, orange hair drifted down over her shoulders, frazzled and kinked. Even as messed up as Danny was, he could still make out a dark bruise decorating one of his sister's eyes.

He tried to reach out to touch her, to let her know that he was okay, but the action fell short. His arm hung limply off the bench he was laid down in, fingers brushing the grooved metallic ground. He only dimly registered that he was still wearing gloves. Still Phantom.

Still Phantom (aka Public Enemy #1). In the Fenton RV (aka the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle). With Val (aka the Red Huntress). This isn't a recipe for disaster.

Jazz let out a small panicked noise and quickly replaced the appendage, careful to lay it straight out instead of curling it back around his torso like he wanted it to be.

Gosh, his arm hurt. It felt like it was on fire. It took a moment of processing for him to remember he had been shot there. So much had happened since that first fateful fight with that new ghost, his memory was beginning to get fuzzy.

Then, movement. The whole world rocked and swayed. At first he thought it was all in his head, but he noticed Jazz and Val have to brace themselves numerous times over.

Against his better judgement, he decided to risk propping his head up. He wanted a better view of his surroundings, and if these people weren't going to let him die peacefully, then they'd have to put up with him being mobile.

He strained for a moment, but was too exhausted to really see much. Luckily, Jazz noticed and quickly fit a pillow beneath his head.

It was a little odd being coddled as Phantom. Phantom was always supposed to be elusive and strong… This was just… it was odd. Not to say that it was unappreciated… it was just… weird for lack of a better word. He felt strangely exposed on the sofa of the RV.

Nevertheless, a kind gesture awarded a kind word. He smiled again at Jazz and choked on a thanks. His throat had gone so dry. When had that happened? He could really use some water.

Jazz ruffled his hair in response, but didn't look any less worried. Her eyes never left him, and her stiff posture spoke of anxiety.

The pillow eased his head upwards enough that he could see the driver's cab of the RV, now. In the driver's seat was a third figure, large and orange, and driving like he'd never operated a vehicle in his life.

Dad! If Dad and Jazz are here, then Mom has to be too!

She was safe. Spectra was lying. That orange ghost was right all along.

He sunk further into the seat, letting the swaying motion lull him into sleep. He wasn't scared. He was already so close to death that neither Val nor his dad could make him any closer. He was flirting with the abyss, occasionally lapsing into unconsciousness and glimpsing infinite passages into oblivion. It was strangely peaceful, like sleep but colder and quicker. Or maybe it was more like falling but with pain before you hit the bottom.

Every once in awhile, a bump would jarr him awake, and he'd hear Jazz shout something along the lines of "are you trying to kill us?" She was still seated to his front, one hand gripping a seat handle, and the other secured over his torso to keep him from rolling. Val had eventually retreated to the passenger seat. The red of her shoulder was the only part of her that was visible.

"I'm driving the best I can!" his dad shouted back. He was flustered. Vision recovering, Danny could only now notice that his dad's suit was torn. Beneath the tears was a patchwork of white bandages.

Jazz has a black eye. Dad is injured. The Red Huntress is here.

Where is Mom?

Sluggishly, he pulled an elbow underneath himself and propped himself up. He had to check the back seats. His mom had to be there.

Immediately, Jazz pushed him back down. "Stay still," she hissed. "They still don't trust you." She pointed upward to a fork protruding from the ceiling. That device was a taser. There was one hanging over every seat in the car. After all, his family was nothing if not paranoid. They were always accusing someone in the family of being a ghost.

Danny laughed quietly. He supposed it would only be fair if he got shocked by that thing.

"There!" Val had stood in her seat and was pointing to something on the side of the road. "Pull over there, and throw up the shield again."

The RV rolled as his dad barreled into the turn. The hydraulic treads on the oversized vehicle were about the only thing keeping it from capsizing.

Brakes were slammed, Valerie was pressed to the windshield, and Jazz had fallen over. Somehow, miraculously, Danny managed to stay where he was, though he did smack his forehead on a metal beam. He looked over at his dad. He was unaffected by his own suicidal brand of driving habits, merely putting the RV into park and flipping the lever that routes power from the engine to the ghost shield.

Trapped.

… not that I'm in any condition to get away anyway.

Danny closed his eyes, desperate for just another wink of rest before the inevitable questioning and prodding, but it didn't come soon enough. His dad was already standing over him, blotting out the overhead light. Fury decorated the furrows of his usually kind face.

It was an odd reaction to have. He wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve such a disconcerting glower from his father. His ears were ringing again, and the sudden lack of motion from the RV threw the world into a dizzy fray of vertigo. He felt like he was falling into infinity, like he had gone intangible and fell through the world.

Jazz popped up before the hulking man in a spur of protectiveness. Danny could almost imagine the expression on her face, angry and full of reprimand. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she nearly screamed, her lungs not quite big enough to really throw any strength into the words. "He's hurt, concussed, and bleeding out. Do you have any idea what he's just been through? The damage you're causing?" She held her hand out and started ticking off things on her fingers. "He needs water, food, first aid, rest, and most importantly care." She waved her five fingers around in front of his dad's disinterested face. "He needs care, Dad! Not whatever you're about to do. Just look at him!"

His dad's eyes crawled from Jazz's outburst to him. It was strange, alien even, to be gazed upon as Phantom by his father. It had happened numerous times before, but he always had an advantage those times. He could always escape or trick him somehow. Now, all he had was Jazz. It was… a vulnerable feeling. One that he did not want to experience now after everything else he had just been through.

The fear must have been evident in his face because Jack's disposition faltered slightly. He looked at Phantom, at him, with a hint of sympathetic curiosity behind the raw anger. He swept his arm, air whooshing as it was displaced in the small vehicle. Frustration colored his tone which was unusually quiet for the man. "Maddie is gone, Jazz! Gone!" His other hand came to rest on her shoulder. "She's gone, and the only clue we have is that!" His resentment was barely restrained as he coldly referred to Danny… to Phantom as a thing.

Mom is missing? Mom is actually missing!?

Jazz grabbed the hand on her shoulder roughly, a similar bought of stubborn frustration coloring her actions as well. They were eerily similar to each other in personality. "He. Didn't. Do. It." She gesticulated madly. "Just… look at him! He can't even stand let alone kidnap anyone! He needs help!"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows knitting furiously. "It's tricking you, Jazz. Why can't you see that? This ghost is lying to you!"

At this, Valerie shyly piped up. It was clear that she felt out of place among these warring family members. "Uhm, not to overstep my boundaries, but Phantom is not pretending." Her voice was distorted with a voice changer. She stepped closer and experimentally poked his arm with the barrel of an ectopistol. "You should've seen where he was."

Jack glared at her with a pointed look as she quickly raised her arms in surrender. "Not that I'm suggesting we trust him!" she quickly amended. "I just don't think he did it. It's not his style."

"Not his style!?" Jack roared. "This piece of scum knows where Maddie is! I know that it does!"

Jazz backed up, arms waving uselessly. "Woah, let's not turn against each other-"

Cold burst in Danny's chest as Valerie's suit let out a small discharge of static. She was angry now, indignant with his dad's outburst. She stood tall, suit sparking with electricity. "You do not speak to me that way, Mr. Fenton. I've fought against him for over a year now. I think I know when something reeks of Phantom and when something does not."

"Fought him? Fought him?" Jack was shaking now he was so mad. "I've studied him! I've studied ghosts for decades! They're unpredictable, undead terrors. This one is no different! You think that just because it's acted one way for so long doesn't mean that it can't act another?"

Danny jumped when he felt a hand fall on his head. Luckily, it was just Jazz. She was looking at him with worry as her eyes roamed his body. He felt somewhat self-conscious. If he looked half as bad as he felt, then he had to look just completely and utterly awful. His dad and Valerie continued arguing in the background, their shouts causing his headache to raise in pain.

Jazz frowned determinedly and mouthed a "sorry" to her little brother. She turned away, and shouted. "Family meeting now!" as she pushed Valerie towards the door of the RV. Danny could feel the frustration projected from the ectoplasmic imprints that her suit was spitting out, but she complied anyway. Not without slamming the door shut behind her though.

With one obstacle taken care of, Jazz turned to the next one, their dad. He was standing there, confusion, anger, and frustration evident by his expression. "This ends today," Jazz ground out. "And this ends now."

Oh no. Please don't reveal me Jazz.

"I am tired of you, and mom for that matter, not looking at the facts." She pointed an accusatory finger as she advanced on her own father. "Have you ever captured a specimen as intelligent as Phantom is? Have you ever held a conversation?" Jack opened his mouth, but Jazz plowed right on through whatever he was about to say. "He's a thinking being, Dad! He's sentient!"

Jack waved dismissively. "None of the ghosts we capture are sentient, Jazzy. They can't feel." He was quiet, though, eying Danny from the corner of his vision.

Jazz threw up her arms, exasperated. "That's exactly what I'm saying! None of the ghosts you capture are sentient! You haven't captured one that is. You can't compare the reactions of an ectopus to someone like Phantom! That's like comparing something like an earthworm to a human! It's just not right!"

Jack fell silent, running his fingers across his chin thoughtfully as he perched himself on the edge of a seat. The calm and quiet was uncharacteristic of the large man. Jazz was making her mark.

Way to go, Jazz! Convince him to trust me! But please don't reveal me to him. I'm not ready for that.

She circled around Jack, approaching Danny with a fleeting look of concern. "You want answers? You want to know where Mom is?" She turned away, facing their dad again. "Just ask him. Talk to him. He's not just some reanimated glob of consciousness. He's a person. He can respond with intelligent answers, and he doesn't need goading or…" She glanced upward at the fork protruding from the ceiling. "or-or-or torture, or whatever you were about to do."

Danny traced her gaze to the fork, too. Somehow, the thought of experiencing more pain did not scare him as much as probably should have. He didn't think he could get more hurt if he tried, right now.

Their dad's face fell. "You really think so low of me?" He sighed and leaned back into his chair as it heatedly protested against the man's weight. He was quiet for some time, thinking up a way to phrase his response. "You can't torture a ghost," he began. "It doesn't understand torture. It would know that it is being injured, but it wouldn't know how to respond." He fidgeted with his fingers, eyes closed and deep in thought. "Torture wouldn't work. The ghost would simply not understand that the injury will stop if it gives me answers."

Cautiously, Jazz neared their dad and crouched low to meet his gaze. "Talking will work. Trust me." She shot a stern glance back at her little brother who was pretending to not hear the private conversation going on not two feet away. "He wants to talk to you. He's just too tired and hurt to initiate it."

The man contemplated this before leaning forward and swallowing his daughter in a fierce hug. When he released her, he patted her shoulder and gently brushed her bruised cheek with his hands. "You're a good person, Jazz." He ruffled the top of her head affectionately. "And as stubborn as your old man!" He barked a laugh, some of the playful light returning to his gaze. "I might have taught you too well…" His gaze traced back towards Danny who instinctively shied away. "I just hope you're right. This ghost kid is tricky. I don't like trusting his word."

Jazz pulled away too, eagerly returning to her brother's side. From the look on her face, she was just barely holding back a freak out. "You can trust him." She started rummaging around in cabinetry and rifling through packages. "He's a good person, too. He will only help if you give him the chance."

A/N: Happy Halloween! Enjoy a longer-than-normal chapter.

Gotta carve a pumpkin now before its too late.