Shadows of the Past

A Danny Phantom Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own Danny Phantom.

Chapter 11: Trenton

Prologue

British Headquarters, Trenton, New Jersey, December 23, 1776

The Hessian mercenary commander, Johann Rall, was a dour sort of fellow by his very nature. His demeanor was coarse, his temperament fiery, and his attitude generally of poor caliber.

The snowstorm outside wasn't helping either.

Clad in several layers of coats, his feet adorned with velvet slippers, and a crimson nightcap perched upon his forehead, Rally bent over his desk and tried to pull his clothes tighter around his body. The roaring fire in the hearth not two feet behind him seemed completely ineffectual, and its flickering tongues of flame appeared not to raise the room temperature in the slightest. Rall shivered miserably, throwing himself into a coughing fit, all the while wondering why in the world anyone with their sanity intact would even consider settling here. Even the bitter winters back home in Europe seemed paltry compared to the screeching sheets of driving snow that continued to rage just beyond Rall's window.

The Hessian reached for a crystal decanter, pouring himself a generous amount of amber-colored liquor in an effort to banish the chill from his bones. The mercenary went to down the tiny glass-

BAM!

The door to Rall's office flew open without a trace of the propriety that one would normally show a commanding officer, and the aging Hessian bolted upright from his chair with an indignant look upon his mustachioed face.

"Vat eez ein meening of zis?" Rall demanded. "Vould it not keel you to knock like a ceeveelized person? You're letting ze cold een, eediot! SHUT ZE DAMN DOOR!"

"Be silent," a voice, hard as flint, snapped.

Rall suddenly noticed who his impromptu visitor was, and what color remained in his cheeks rapidly disappeared as Brigadier General Walker brushed the snow from his shoulders.

The villainous redcoat glanced at his Hessian counterpart, and Rall felt a chill go down his spine at the grisly sight. Walker's face, it seemed, was worse for wear. Some horrible happenstance had marred the Brigadier's once-handsome features; his entire face was hideously disfigured by the masses of scar tissue that had formed over the burns, the same burns that Danny Fenton had inflicted when he'd destroyed Walker's fortress. The debacle that Fenton had wrought at his now-demolished fortress had nearly cost Walker not only his life but also his military career as well, and only through his connections with several members of Parliament had the villain avoided court-martial. The charred, blackened flesh that had been the young Patriot's parting gift had only recently healed, but even though the searing agony of Walker's injuries had at last deserted him, he burned with hatred for Fenton every time he gazed upon the rubbery, disgusting flesh that had grown over the injured areas.

"I am relieving you of your post," Walker said flatly. "Henceforth, all personnel in this base will fall under my authority."

"Und 'oo gave you ze authoreezation to do zees?" Rall asked, barely keeping his temper in check.

"Is that a challenge?" Walker replied softly, his hand coming to rest on the pistol he carried in his belt.

The threat, while nonverbal, was very explicit. Like a wolf before the alpha male, the Hessian said nothing and averted his eyes.

"I thought so," Walker sneered. "Now get out of my office, please. I have work to do."

"Vat are you talking about?" Rall inquired on his way out, giving in to his curiosity. "Ve are safe heyah, ja?"

"Don't be so foolish," Walker snapped. "Your overconfidence will be the death of you one day. No bastion of defenses is invulnerable, you idiot, and if an attack does come…my men will be ready."

"You zink ve are a target?"

"I think that traitor Washington is unpredictable at best," Walker clarified. "He's out there somewhere, and after his defeat at New York it is reasonable to assume that he's not above a surprise attack, even in this weather. Nothing is more dangerous than a foe with his back to the wall, which is exactly the position Washington is struggling with now. Such pressure makes the enemy far more dangerous, like a wounded beast. No, I have a feeling he'll try something, but where and when is anyone's guess.

"Now, once again, get out of my quarters," Walker snarled. "Try doing your job for once, instead of sipping brandy and playing the violin all day."

Rall hastened out into the cold, his fear of Walker overriding his disdain for the weather, and Trenton's new commanding officer began pouring over reports with almost unholy zeal.

The blazing hearth continued to crackle and snap behind the villainous officer's chair, and though its scorching sheets of orange and red stood tall, they were nothing compared to the fires of vengeance that burned in Robert Walker's soul…

Now…

Early morning, Trenton, New Jersey, Christmas Day 1776

The sun's golden rays had just barely begun peeking over the horizon as Danny Fenton strained to pull one of the heavy iron cannon into position. The wooden gun carriage was enormously heavy, and its wheels left deep furrows in the snow as Danny grunted and groaned under his breath.

The menacing blackness within the cannon's bore peeked over the hillside like the eye of some gigantic monster, and no sooner had it cast its thin shadow in the predawn light than it was joined by over a dozen of its kin. Twelve enormous guns bristled with ominous intent, balefully silent in the eerie quiet that precedes the clamor of battle. One by one, General Washington pushed his artillery into position, and with reassuring calm, the leader of the Continental Army stepped off of his horse to observe his men as they worked feverishly to load and prime the monstrous weapons with powder and shot.

Danny and his comrades worked with frenzied vigor, and the boy's face became somewhat dirtied as he went about his task. Tucker, working beside him, grinned hugely as the lethal iron payload disappeared within the cannon's mouth, seeming to delight in what was to come.

Colonel Lancer, his officer's blade in hand, raised his voice to an earsplitting level. "MAKE READ-Y!"

Twelve pitiless pieces of metal slowly turned their destructive sights on the town of Trenton, their attendants waiting with fuses in hand. From the cover of the surrounding treeline, the Continental Army marched forward in silent ranks of grim faces and steel bayonets, their muskets primed and their resolve hardened. The Patriot host poured out of hiding like a vengeful wave, their numbers formed in squares thirty wide and thirty deep. They emerged into the open just as the sun's light began to banish the darkness away, and in the glow of the newborn dawn, their steel glittering in the soft golden rays.

Danny felt his heart begin to beat a mile a minute as the relatively short silence seemed to stretch on forever. His hands became slick with anxious sweat, his senses heightened with fear and nervous excitement, and he gripped the haft of his own weapon tightly as he, too, fell in with his respective unit.

Then the surreal, frightening moment of calm and unnatural silence was over. At a nod from Washington, Lancer leveled his sword at the unsuspecting target. "OPEN FIRE!"

KRAKKOOOM!

In single file, the Continental artillery sounded off a devastating roll call, their barrels belching smoke and fire as they sent their deadly cargoes shrieking through the air. The sheer force of the recoil jolted the cannons backward a full six inches, and the sound was so deafening that Danny clenched his teeth and covered his ears.

The effect of the lethal barrage was immediately noticeable. Trenton spewed wood and shrapnel skyward as its buildings began to leak smoke and flame, and the pandemonium among its occupants was so great that Danny could clearly hear their consternation.

But there was one who was not perturbed.

Brigadier General Walker, his uniform worn sloppily due to his haste in donning it, snatched one of his subordinates by the shoulders and shook the unfortunate like a rag doll.

"Sound the alarm," he ordered as the village began to explode around him. "Have the men form up at the outer defenses! MOVE!"

"Yes, sir!" the terrified orderly shouted, darting off to relay Walker's commands.

Like an army of infuriated fire ants, the British and Hessian soldiers poured into the breastworks of Trenton's fortifications…

Washington was undeterred. Back and forth in front of the American lines he rode, utterly undaunted by the fact that the British were taking aim at him, and his normally gentle face grew somewhat harder.

"Fo'rard-MARCH!" Washington shouted, turning his horse around to lead his troops within musket range of the enemy.

As a single, collective body, the Continentals began closing the distance as cannon fire continued to screech overhead. Trenton, now looking somewhat worse for wear, began to shudder under the weight of the bombardment, and the heinous balls of cast-iron death sent up great geysers of snow and frozen earth wherever they landed.

"Take A—IM!" Washington shouted, his men instantly bringing their muskets to the fore so as to greet the enemy with a fullisade of leaden death. In almost perfect unison the Patriots took aim at the hated redcoats, their weapons like the spines of some enormous hedgehog as they bristled menacingly all along the ragged blue ranks.

Danny, shaking with fear, sighted down the barrel of his own weapon as he pulled the hammer back with a satisfying click.

For one, immeasurably small amount of time, the entire Earth seemed to hold its breath in anticipation before Washington's order shattered it into infinitesimal pieces.

"FIRE!"

With a symphony of sharp, earsplitting CRACKS, the entire American line opened up with a cacophonous blast of whistling lead and stinging smoke, snorting fire and belching brimstone as they sent a wave of remorseless metal slamming into the British troops like a wrecking ball. In clusters and groups the redcoats collapsed as the Continental musket balls found their mark, sending geysers of blood spraying through the air amidst an unholy chorus of shocked and agonized screams.

But though the Continentals had caused significant casualties, Brigadier General Walker was far from intimidated. At his signal, the redcoats leveled their arms and took careful aim even as the traitorous Patriots marched into the teeth of their defenses.

Walker's face shined with evil joy, and Danny felt as if he'd been hit by lightning as he recognized the voice of his presumed-dead enemy. "FIRE!"

The air became thick with the stench of gunpowder as the British sent a volley of their own straight into the ranks of Washington's men with immediate and destructive effect. Americans fell like dominoes, their ravaged bodies thudding heavily into the reddening snow with dying moans and shrieks. The British gave as good as they had received whilst the Patriots marched into the teeth of their armaments, but visibility grew limited as the clouds of caustic, cough-inducing smoke began to obscure the battlefield.

Walker sneered contemptuously as he waited for the air to clear. "Go ahead and run, you peasant rabble," he said softly. "Run back to the wilderness like the dogs you are. You don't have the stomach to face His Majesty's men in open-"

Any further gloating on Walker's part was cut off quite suddenly as a generous amount of cannon fire began tearing his men to pieces. Round after round began obliterating the British defenders, making explosive contact while hurling weapons, soil, and assorted human detritus into the air. Redcoats were knocked off their feet and thrown in all directions with screeching cries, almost as if they had been swatted by the hand of some vengeful giant. Arms were shorn, legs were ripped clean amidst the sickening snap of bone, and the torn, savaged corpses of the slain landed with a series of nauseating splats while puddles of gore ran into the snow-bank. Like wheat before the farmer's scythe the redcoats fell, and the air became so loud with the shrieks of the injured that Walker felt his eardrums hurt.

Panic began to ensue as Walker's men realized just how exposed they were to the cannons' monstrous aim, and their fighting resolve began to waiver as the smoky cloud finally lifted.

What the redcoats saw next was hardly encouraging.

Washington's horse whinnied loudly, mirroring the adrenaline rush of its master as two thousand steel bayonets glinted wickedly in the morning sun, and the valiant General held his blade aloft as he urged his troops forward with a voice that seemed to shake the heaven and earth with the force it contained.

"CHARGE!"

With a collective, vengeance-filled roar that brought to mind a thousand angry lions, Danny Fenton and the rest of his comrades surged forward like a great tsunami of hard, scapel-edged metal, their weapons pointed right into the mouth of Trenton's defenses as they cast away all regard for personal health and safety. The earth shook under the force of their assault like the beating of some enormous, lethal drum, and the Patriots leapt over the bodies of their slain comrades as they literally threw themselves upon their British nemeses. The Patriots vaulted over the earthen bastions in which their enemies had entrenched themselves as the fighting disintegrated into savage hand-to-hand combat, and Lancer urged his men forward as he skewered a redcoat on the end of his sword and emptied the contents of his pistol into the skull of another.

"COME ON, LADS!" The valiant Colonel cried, ducking a bayonet thrust and slashing his opponent's belly open before continuing on his way. "GIVE 'EM COLD STEEL!"

Danny Fenton needed no such encouragement as the cold, remorseless heat of combat overtook him. The young officer stabbed the nearest redcoat so hard that his bayonet severed the Englishman's spine, and Danny used his foot to free his weapon from the stiffening corpse before using the musket's barrel to block a saber's downward swing. The blade promptly lodged itself deeply in the scratched and pitted wood, and Danny took that opportunity to sweep his foe's weapon away before demolishing the redcoat's skull with the musket's stock. Bits of bone stung Danny's cheeks as his foe slumped, gushing blood and brains, and the boy turned around just in time to avoid a steel-edged lunge from the man who'd been advancing behind him. Danny twisted to one side so as to get out of the way, and as the redcoat's momentum carried him forward, the young man stabbed up and at an angle so as to plunge his own bayonet through the man's lower jaw and up into the skull. Danny's foe pitched over like a fallen tree, killed in a trice, and the boy who'd slain him wasted no time in laying open the face of one of his comrades. The sharpened metal carved a deep, crimson furrow as it sheared the flesh away, and Danny's opponent clutched his ruined features with twitching hands before he expired. The boy wasted no time on sentimentality, however; rather, Danny stepped over the rapidly cooling corpse and severed the throat of a Hessian. The mercenary gurgled, blood spilling onto his uniform, and Danny parted the man's head from his shoulders before moving on to forcibly amputate the arm of another. Danny's foe screamed, clutching his bleeding stump, and his assailant promptly ended his pain by plunging his sword into the unfortunate soldier's heart.

From one end to another the fighting grew ever more brutal and merciless. Shots rang out at random intervals as the clashing of metal mingled with the screams and shouts of men, and the air became so thick with gunpowder's acrid fumes that it burned the lungs. So great was the level of slaughter that bodies lay in piles three, four and five deep, and the ground became so wet with crimson ichor that soldiers on both sides slipped and fell. The carnage was so unspeakable that no printed word could ever fully describe it, this place where the Angel of Death had reaped such a gruesome harvest. Never had the fires of battle burned brighter than on this icy winter's day.

Walker casually slew a young Patriot who'd made the mistake of getting too close, his deranged mind reveling in the spray of warm blood that landed on his face. With cold, calculating insanity he slashed one of Washington's men almost in two, kicking the body out of the way and using the pommel of his weapon to drive a devastating strike into another Patriot's temple. The man's skull cracked and fractured audibly as his life was extinguished, and Walker seized the slain man's musket so as to cut down a Continental with practiced ease. Walker then reversed his grip on the weapon, using the club-like butt as a mace whilst he struck out in all directions. Ribs were splintered, skulls were shattered, and arms were broken as the madman vented his spleen upon the Patriot fighters, and Danny's comrades died in droves before his relentless, psychotic onslaught.. The steel tip of Walker's stolen bayonet emerged from between the eyes of another victim, and the unfortunate Continental's body fell to one side-

-Whereupon, completely by happenstance, Danny Fenton and his mortal nemesis looked each other right in the eye from opposite ends of the field of battle.

Walker's hand gripped the hilt of his weapon so hard that his knuckles turned white, and his teeth chattered with the force of his hate as he began to close the distance, killing and butchering anyone how dared stand in his way. Walker grabbed one of the Patriots by the throat and broke the man's neck without even breaking his pace, shoving the corpse to one side before partially severing the head of another. He lashed out like a rabid dog, pummeling one of Danny's fellows to death before ripping another's life away with a single, powerful swipe of his weapon. Walker's boots trod scornfully on the slain Patriot's corpse, and his eyes burned with like lanterns of hate as he anticipated Danny's demise, piercing a Patriot through the throat and hurling him bodily into several of his companions. Like a ravenous wolf, Walker pounced upon the stunned Continentals, his gore-slicked blade stabbing downward again and again until his opponents had been reduced to little more than bloody chunks of flesh and bone.

The young man in question returned Walker's enmity in spades, his mind flashing back to the fifteen soldiers who'd ultimately died at the villain's hands. Fury roiled in Danny's belly like a fiery maelstrom, and the point of his own weapon began seeking his enemy's villainous heart. Danny's sword and bayonet worked like the blades of a demented blender, stabbing, slashing and eviscerating with alarming speed as he hastened to bring about Walker's permanent demise. Like a tornado of remorseless steel he wrought death upon the British ranks, carving a long, deep laceration across a redcoat's chest before using the dripping blade to run another clean through, and Danny pulled his weapon free with a sickening, wet sound as Walker closed in upon him-

-But then Danny's eyes suddenly widened with panic , for when Walker was less than ten paces away, the villainous general pulled a small pistol from his belt, took brief aim, and fired.

SPLUTCH.

Danny doubled over and gasped, his hand automatically clutching the spot on his upper left arm where Walker's shot had hit, and blood seeped from between his fingers as Danny clenched his teeth in agony. The musket that Danny had thus far kept with him fell into the snow, and the sleeve of his uniform became wet and sticky as the wound continued to bleed. Walker, seeing this, laughed callously as he swung his sword at the injured Danny.

KRANG!

Steel met steel with a ringing clamor and a rasping hiss as Danny brought his own weapon up just in time, and he strained to keep Walker's blade at bay as he slowly rose to his feet.

"I've been waiting for this," the villainous redcoat hissed.

Danny glanced at Walker's ruined face and smiled sardonically. "Actually, I think it's kind of an improvement."

Walker snarled, bashing Danny's blade aside before swinging his weapon in a scything arc of ringing steel, but Danny managed to duck out of the way just in time before taking a swipe at Walker's chest. The blood-stained edge scored a shallow cut on Walker's shoulder, and the officer sucked in a breath through clenched teeth before drawing a shallow cut along Danny's upper torso. Blood dripped from the wound as Danny staggered, flicking out his wrist and plunging his blade-tip deep into flesh of Walker's bicep. A spurt of crimson awarded Danny's efforts, and the young hero lunged forward to finish Walker off as his foe instinctively clapped a hand to his wound-

-Whereupon his tired and injured body was sent spinning to the ground, for Walker instantly removed his hand from the injury and backhanded Danny across the face so hard that the boy's teeth rattled. The sword was sent spinning from Danny's grasp as he landed in the gore-stained snow, and Danny tried to regain his footing before Walker's boot landed on top of him, trapping him beneath its leather sole while simultaneously driving the breath from Danny's body.

Walker's face was cruel as he leered down at his enemy, his sword still in hand. "Not so great without any trees and rocks to hide behind, eh?"

Danny screamed as the blade plunged into his flesh, but it was not a mortal wound. In keeping with his sadistic nature, Walker wanted to have a bit of fun with his intended victim first, and so he had stabbed Danny in the place where the boy's arm joined the shoulder. Tears of agony squeezed from Danny's eyes, and Walker closed his eyes briefly to enjoy his opponent's suffering like the taste of a fine wine.

It proved to be his undoing. So intent was Walker on his own evil pleasure that he did not see Danny's fingers crawling toward the firearm that still lay in the snow. Though Walker's torturous ministrations made every nerve in his body shriek with agony, Danny nevertheless gritted his teeth against his pain and stretched his impaled arm out to grasp his fallen weapon.

The young man's fingers closed around the musket's barrel, and Danny subtly slid the weapon over as Walker opened his eyes.

"Guess what?" Danny smirked, his smile undimmed despite his incredible suffering.

Walker instantly became alert, and the villain's face became drawn and pale as Danny hefted the weapon and pointed it right between Walker's eyes. "It's still loaded."

The last thing Robert Walker ever saw was the flash of gunpowder.

The evil redcoat fell over, slain in a trice, and Danny gasped as he removed his foe's blade from his body. His vision began to darken as his wounds began to take their toll upon his tired and bleeding form, but even as his strength deserted him Danny could see that the battle was won. The starch seemed to have gone out of the enemy upon Walker's sudden and violent death, and now many of those who'd served under him began to break and run while others threw down their arms and abruptly gave up the fight. Fierce pride made Danny's heart swell as he saw Foley herding an ever-growing group of prisoners out of the ruined fortifications.

Danny's lips curved into a smile. We did it, he thought exultantly, as the blackness began to claim him. The world became fuzzy and warm as his vision dulled, and Danny felt himself begin to grow limp as the sounds and smells of Trenton receded. His mind began to go blank, and just before Danny's consciousness was swept away, a single, familiar voice sounded in his ear.

"Time…out."

A/N: I think I know who that is! But in any case, I sincerely hope you all found this chapter extremely enjoyable. I know I promised you all an epic battle, and I hope with all my heart that it meets your expectations and lives up to all its hype… *Is nervous*

Coming up, the epilogue! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque