Breaking Dawn
A Danny Phantom Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own Danny Phantom.
Chapter 11: Into the Lions' Den! A Covert Mission to Save Agent Brody!
Danny Fenton, resplendent in his ghostly form and invisible to the naked eye, felt a chilly, foreboding wind in his snow-white hair as he soared hundreds of feet above the streets of Amity. The buildings below his searching gaze looked almost like toys from the viewpoint of such high elevation, and Danny felt his skin break out in goosebumps as his signature black jumpsuit did little to disperse the icy air.
The small nodule in Danny's ear, more compact and much more sophisticated than your average Bluetooth, picked up the vibrations in the ghost boy's throat as he strained to talk audibly over the shrieking gale. Shooting through the sky like a swooping raptor, Danny took some amount of solace from anticipating Tucker's voice in his ear; the sound of his friend provided a tiny amount of comfort against the anxiety for what lay ahead.
The mission of Danny and his friends consisted of two parts: finding the location to which Brody had been taken, and somehow managing to get the agent out without having to clock anyone across the face. Any violence on Danny's part would surely be twisted by the press and media to make Danny's infiltration look more like a burglary or assault rather than an attempt to rescue his friend, and the last thing Danny needed right now was even more bad press.
"You there, Tuck?"
"Yeah," Tucker replied, his fingers flying over the keyboard of the desktop computer back in Danny's room. The monitor and CPU had been utterly mutated in the course of the modifications Tucker had made for the purpose of this mission; wires of every shape and size snaked out in every direction like the hair on Medusa's head. An almost constant whirring could be audibly heard as Danny's friend worked his technological magic, but Tucker's face was abnormally serious as he continued his work. "I'm trying to triangulate the signal from Brody's wireless phone; if he still has it on him, it should lead us to wherever he's being held. Then all you have to do is bust him out without decking anyone, assuming that, one, he's alive at all right now, two, that you can find him in time, three, that you can sneak in and out without being noticed, and four, that the opposition doesn't cripple or kill you."
"Gosh, that's encouraging…."
"I'm just trying to be realistic, okay? You're playing against a stacked deck, so you need to be careful on this one."
"Noted. But how are you going to track a cell phone?" Danny asked, bewildered.
"Don't you ever watch 'CSI' or 'NCIS'?" Tucker snorted. "Almost all cell phones these days have a GPS in embedded in their hardware to prevent theft. We find the phone, and we find Brody."
"Provided that he hasn't dropped it or that the bad guys haven't taken it," Sam put in.
"Or that it hasn't been turned off," Tucker agreed.
I'm starting to feel uncomfortable about all this, Danny thought to himself. There are too many factors unaccounted for. Aloud he said, "You've both got a point, but right now this is the best lead we have, so we'll just have to hope it works."
"Remember, Danny," Tucker continued, apparently conceding the point, "As much as I'd love to listen to you go to town on these guys, you can't afford to get caught up in a full-fledged brawl. Get in, get Brody, and get out, quickly. Otherwise they might have the audacity to sue you for home invasion or something."
"I'm aware of that," Danny replied, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Do you have the coordinates yet?"
"This isn't a Google map, dude," Tucker shrugged on the other end. "Before I can try to find Brody for you, I need a satellite to do it with. And seeing as how we're short of a million dollars to buy our own, we'll have to…borrow one."
"You're going to steal a government tracking satellite?" Danny, though used to his friend's hacking skills, was aghast at the sheer nerve of such an idea. "That's pretty bold, even for you."
"Don't remind me," Tucker shuddered, his voice rising with anxiety over the sound of tapping keys. "I'll have about two and a half minutes to triangulate Brody's cell before someone in the Pentagon notices they've been hacked. When that happens, they'll try to trace the search back to its source: me."
"Which means you'd better have a good memory," Sam elaborated. "Because Tucker isn't going to be able to repeat himself on this one. We have one shot at locating Brody, one, so we can't afford to mess it up."
"Do you think he's okay?" Danny asked, wheeling a sharp right in mid-air as he swerved toward the downtown area. "I mean, they haven't...hurt him too badly, have they?"
"With people like that, there's no telling," Sam growled, directing her next remark at Tucker. "Time isn't on our side, so I'd appreciate it if you'd hurry the hell up."
"Don't tell me how to do my job," Tucker said irritably. "If you think you can do better, Sam, then why don't you try hacking into NASA and see how easy it is? Just hang on a second and let me dodge these firewalls..."
"Today, Tuck!" Danny couldn't keep the anxiety from his voice.
"Almost there…" The tip of Tucker's tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he intensified his concentration. "I need to override the security mainframe and temporarily disable the tracking cookie…There!"
"You done?"
"Yup. We now the proud owners of a U.S. orbital tracker. Now all I have to do is calibrate the tracking frequency to match that of Brody's phone."
"Better hurry," Sam bit her lip worriedly. "You've got three minutes and forty five seconds."
"How do you know the frequency of Brody's Blackberry?" Danny couldn't help but ask.
"I cloned it when he wasn't looking," Tucker admitted. "Illegal, I know, but I thought it might come in handy if things went sour. Turns out I was right."
"Less talk, more type," Danny murmured.
"Three minutes, twenty seconds."
"Don't pressure me, Sam!" Tucker hissed, his former good nature replaced by the urgency of the situation. "I think…I've almost…Got it! I got it! I found Brody's phone!"
"Where is it?"
"Thirty-five point six degrees south, and seventy-five point nine degrees west."
"Uh…"
"In layman's terms, turn left on Main Street and take a right," Tucker instructed, his voice teasing. "Keep going till you get to the Central District. It'll be the third house on the left, if my math is right. Which it always is, by the way."
"It makes sense, I guess," Sam admitted. "The Central District was practically abandoned years ago. Hardly anyone lives there anymore, so I guess it's a great place to hide out if you want to lay low. I heard my parents mention one time that the whole area is actually condemned, but apparently City Hall hasn't gotten around to bulldozing it yet."
Danny mouthed Tucker's directions silently a few times so as to commit them to memory. "Right."
"And remember…" his friend warned.
"I know, Tuck, I know, no punching anybody," Danny sighed. "Though I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't feel satisfying to bust these Society jerks in the face."
"You'll have other opportunities," Sam assured him.
"And so will Brody," Danny smirked. "As soon as he catches his breath, he's gonna call in every chip he has and hunt these people down."
"Maybe he'll finally get something on Skryme, too," Tucker's tone hopeful. "He's financing these guys, isn't he?"
"Brody thinks so, but so far Skryme's been really good at covering his tracks."
"Well, here's hoping that changes," Sam said viciously…
Meanwhile…
1192 Parker Lane, Central District….
Agent Thomas Brody, looking very much the worse for wear, rolled his tongue idly around in the bloody socket where a molar had formerly resided. Long, shallow cuts, only a small portion of the wounds he'd sustained while in the Society's custody, rand down the lengths of his arms and shredded the white Oxford shirt that he wore on his shoulders. His fractured jaw ached abominably, the side of his head was encrusted with coagulated blood, and his lip sported a jagged rip where it had been savagely torn open.
The wounds were neither overly serious nor life-threatening, however. Despite the colorful collection of bruises and lacerations that Brody had collected over the past few hours, his captors weren't trying to kill him, at least not yet. They needed information about Danny, that much had been made clear, and thus the injuries had been made not to kill or seriously incapacitate, but to hurt like hell.
For the moment, these fanatics needed Brody alive, as dead men were a notoriously unreliable source of information. The beatings would probably continue until the venerable agent cracked and told his abductors what they wanted to know.
Then and only then would they probably do away with him to ensure he didn't squeal. Brody had seen it before: stuffed in the trunk of a car, taken out to the middle of nowhere, force to kneel, and then…
One shot to the back of the head at point-blank range, execution-style.
Needless to say, Brody now had two very good reasons for not talking: his loyalty to Fenton and his own interest in keeping himself alive.
Of course, he could only hold out against his interrogators for so long. It was only a matter of time before they grew frustrated with his obstinate refusal and decided to off him anyway. Brody could only hope that Fenton had noticed his absence by now and suspected foul play.
Not that I expect the cavalry to come to my rescue anytime soon, Brody thought bitterly. Fenton's good, but he's no FBI agent! He's a fourteen-year-old kid with a million other things to worry about aside from my well-being. In all likelihood, he probably thinks I've gotten stuck in traffic or something.
The agent glanced at his belongings, strewn across a metal table just out of arm's reach. His Bureau-issued Blackberry lay tantalizingly close, almost taunting him as it lay there with its on/off switch glowing green in the dim light. One moment, just one, and I could have a SWAT team pointing semi-automatics down these bastards' throats.
Dammit all to hell, Brody cursed silently. I should have known some dirtbag would get the drop on me one of these days. Looks like the old saying is true: for every cop, there's a bullet with his name on it…
Well, if they do decide to put me under, I'll make sure to spit in the face of whoever gets to pull the trigger, Brody vowed. They may kill me, but I'm sure as hell not gonna take it lying down, by thunder!
At the same time…
Danny suppressed a shudder as he cruised silently and stealthily among the dilapidated shacks and run-down houses that comprised the oldest and most decrepit area of Amity Park. One glance was enough to tell him in no uncertain terms why the Central District was scheduled for demolition: most of the buildings looked as though a soft breeze could blow them over like a house of cards.
"Creepy enough for you?" Tucker asked.
"Very funny," Danny retorted. "Can we get back on track, please?"
"Fine," Tucker, ever the humorist, shrugged in dismay as he sat at Danny's console. "You're still on course, according to the locator I gave you. Turn right when you get to the next intersection, and Brody's location will be on that street."
The little half-sphere on Danny's belt gave a small beep as the ghost boy rounded the corner, and Tucker's voice grew shrill with excitement. "You're right on top of it!"
"I'm aware of that," Danny grinned in spite of himself at his friend's exuberance as he gently touched down in the middle of the conspicuously empty street. The entire block seemed to resemble a ghost town from a John Wayne movie, and with almost cinematic effect, a stray piece of yellowed newspaper swirled by Danny's ankles.
The young hero chanced a look upward at the particularly disreputable-looking building that Tucker's technological manipulations had led him to. If anything, it looked more like a haunted house out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon, and Danny suppressed a shudder as he made to phase through the cracked and chipped doorway.
Tucker's tone was a quiet whisper in his ear. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut communication at this point, Danny. The Society could have something that could pick up your equipment, so radio silence is a must from this point forward. You're on your own, now, dude. Good luck."
"I'll need it," Danny replied dryly, plucking out the earpiece and stowing it in his pocket. With ease borne of a year's practice, the young hero fizzled out of the visible spectrum and slid silently, like a moonlit shadow, into the heart of the enemy's lair.
He emerged into total darkness on the other side. Danny stopped momentarily, floating stock still just inches above the floor, and waited until his eyes adjusted to the sudden blackness. What he saw after his vision compensated for the lack of illumination was hardly encouraging; the floor was pitted with holes and seemed ready to collapse under even the slightest amount of pressure. There were no signs of life that Danny could see; a few articles of furniture that had been covered in dust-laden sheets, the tarnished remnants of a once-impressive crystal chandelier, and…
There. From down the hallway to Danny's left, he could just make out the distant light cast by a far-away candle. Turning momentarily visible, he went to follow its receding glow-
-Only to have his stomach seize in panic as he realized that the light was coming toward him at an extremely rapid pace.
Danny's eyes widened with alarm as his brain spun. The hallway was too narrow for him to fly, and he no longer had enough time to go intangible; the candle and its wielder were almost upon him. At the last moment, just as the sound of human conversation reached his ears, Danny threw himself into an small alcove that had once been a closet and curled up into a ball underneath one of the shelves. The storage unit's door had long since rotted away, and as he waited for the inevitable, Danny could only pray that he had made himself small enough to escape his unwitting pursuer's notice.
The hall was now bathed in the dim orange lit cast by a solitary flame, and Danny's enhanced hearing could clearly make out the sound of conversation as two men, armed with ecto-weapons, continued what seemed to be a rather routine patrol of the premises.
What Danny next heard made him want to blast the two cultists into oblivion. Never had he wanted to clobber anyone so badly. It was only with Herculean effort that Danny kept himself from exploding from his hiding place in vengeful fury; over and over, he reminded himself that violence against the Society would hardly help his public image.
"Has the traitor seen the Light?" the first man asked.
"No," the second replied. "He repeatedly refuses to be enlightened, unfortunately. Despite our…efforts…to loosen his tongue, Brody remains obstinate in the face of Truth. Even his confinement below has failed to persuade him."
"Shall we dispose of him, then? Brody seems to be more trouble than he's worth."
"Not yet. Only when Leader gives us the word will Brody be punished for betraying humanity to the Dark One."
"Indeed. The Light be praised!"
"Amen!"
Danny hardly dared to breathe as the footsteps of his foes gradually receded, and only when he was absolutely sure that the last echoes of their hateful talk had vanished into the darkness did he dare to peek out of his hiding place. Well, that was just a little too close for comfort, he thought, turning invisible once more. I think it'd probably be better if I didn't take any more chances. But at least now I know Brody's being held in one of the lower levels, probably the basement.
A sneaky grin crossed Danny's face as he began to sink through the floor, and the rusted wiring, rotted wood and corroding air vents passed harmlessly through his body whilst he descended through each successive level of the crumbling structure. With scarcely a ripple of wind to denote his presence, the invisible and intangible Danny slipped past the Society's guards with all the stealth of a trained infiltrator. At one point, Danny came within three feet of several goons gathered around a high-stakes poker game, and yet so silent and swift was he that the enemy never knew he was there.
Danny's clothes would have begun to grow soaked with mildew, fungus and stale water as he grew closer to the subterranean chamber, had he not rid himself of solidity first. Leaky water pipes, corroded from decades of neglect, would have doused him with a constant stream of trickling water, and the variety of mold and mildew that clung to every surface would have latched onto his person like parasites. The further the young hero descended into the depths, the more wet and cold the environment became, until it appeared as though he had broken into a man-made cave rather than an abandoned residence. Sounds of human habitation faded away, to be replaced by the scurrying and scuttling of insects and vermin, and Danny suppressed a shudder as he felt some creepy-crawly pass through his stomach.
Danny's feet passed through yet another level of the crumbling building, and he was jolted once more into sensory high alert as he realized that he'd reached his destination. Slowly, cautiously, Danny planted his feet onto the ground, feeling the damp soak into his shoes, and his heart thudded deafeningly in his ears as adrenaline began to course through his veins.
Once more, Danny stood absolutely still, almost afraid to move even a muscle as he strove to determine whether or not he was alone down here. Relief washed over him as only the sounds of squeaking mice and rustling roaches greeted his silent inquiry, and after working up the courage to speak, Danny opened his mouth.
"Brody?" he called hoarsely.
In the darkness, a shape, seemingly seated in a ruined chair, stirred slightly and emitted a coarse, heavy groan. "Fenton? That you?"
"Yes."
"'Bout damn time you showed up. What the hell took you so long?"
Danny's feet practically moved themselves as he rushed to his friend's aid, his heart soaring in relief over the fact that Brody was indeed still among the living. Even hearing Brody's naturally blunt speech and tendency to swear was enormously comforting; if Brody had acted otherwise, something would have been seriously wrong with him.
"Glad to see you're okay," Danny grinned hugely, grabbing Brody by the arm and phasing him through his bonds.
Brody, due to the variety of wounds he'd sustained, almost collapsed until Danny put one of the agent's lacerated arms over his shoulder. "Do I…look okay to you, kid? Jesus, I feel like a karate master's practice dummy! Get my stuff from that table over there, would you? There's no way in hell I'm letting these wackos keep my piece as a trophy."
Danny gingerly passed the agent his Sig Sauer, still in its holster, and Brody sighed in relief as the firearm's familiar weight hung once more from its belt. "Lemme call this in," he muttered out of the side of his mouth, reaching for his Blackberry. "In five minutes, this place will be swarming with cops."
"No."
"I must have wax in my ears. What did you say?"
"We now know the location of at least one of the Society's hangouts," Danny whispered rapidly. "If you send them running now, they'll find a new hiding place. Why not let this one go, so we can use it to our advantage? A few well-placed bugs in the wall, and we can stay one step ahead of them.'
"Now you're starting to think like a Fed," Brody smirked. "And as much as I'd like to put these bastards away for good, you've got a point. A small victory now would make little difference at this point in the game."
"There'll be another day to take them down," Danny assured him.
"Damn right there will," Brody snarled. "No one's gotten the drop on me in over two decades! I've got a reputation to uphold, for Christ's sake!"
At that particular moment, a cloud of dust was suddenly and quite abruptly dislodged from the ceiling above Danny and Brody's heads. The steady rhythm of footsteps was utterly unmistakable, and Brody clutched Danny's arm with what remained of his strength.
"Get us out of here!" he hissed.
"Already on it," Danny muttered back, his ghostly abilities promptly turning himself and his friend unnoticeable to the naked eye. With a leap and a bound, the ghost boy, with the injured Brody in tow, soared up through the floor at mind-numbing speed. Urgency replaced stealth as Danny felt blood stain the sleeve of his jumpsuit, and he threw caution to the winds as he rocketed through the ceiling and out into the cool evening sky.
Both the ghost boy and Brody had vanished by the time the agent's captors had opened the door.
A/N: YAY! Success! But what dastardly plan will the society come up with next? Will Danny and his friends be able to bring down Skryme for good? And will the ghost boy ever win the trust of those he strives to protect? Find out in coming chapters! And PLEASE REVIEW! If you have ANY ideas or suggestions, LET ME KNOW!
Your humble servant,
-Quill N. Inque