Pits
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria
Interlude: Fentons
I curled my tail around my feet and cocked my head to the side, studying the boy who was busy breaking off a small piece of his hard bread. Setting it in front of me, the dark skinned boy smiled and took a bite of his own supper. "I got to see him," the boy informed me, his blue eyes sparkling in the flickering ghost light.
I chewed my small bit of bread and didn't bother to ask who he was talking about. The boy only talked about one person recently so I just waited for him to continue.
"He doesn't look nearly as powerful as my brother says he is. He's not much older than me and he's really skinny." He took another bite of his bread and chewed loudly as he talked. "But those blades are neat. Maybe that's how he wins all his fights. I read about those ectoluminum blades and what ghosts can do with them."
I'd personally witnessed the disaster of the ectoluminum blades a few centuries earlier. Those blades, if psychosomatically paired with a powerful ghost, could turn a single ghost into a veritable army. The only smart thing Walker had ever done during his reign as ruler of the Pits was to outlaw ghosts from using those blades.
"You think he'll keep winning? I think he'll set a new record. I bet Eloise – you remember, that ghost with the fire-hair that fixes things? – I bet her a week's worth of kitchen duty that he'd make it past thirty fights."
As the kid kept up his one-sided monologue, I quietly chewed my bread and watched him chatter. Years ago I learned that he liked nothing more than talking to someone who would listen. At first I'd listened to the boy because I felt sorry for him. He had been only four when Walker had dragged him into the Pits and forced his older brother to make a choice: work or both of them would die. Now, however, I let him talk to me for other reasons.
He stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth. "I also heard Walker's really angry about something, dunno what though. I tried to get Bullet to tell me, but he just told me to shut up and then he called me a tomato. Do you know why Walker's so mad?"
The boy looked at me expectantly for a moment, silent for the first time in a long time, wiping his dirty fingers on the rags that served as clothes. I swallowed my bit of bread. "I think he's lost something."
"Lost something?" His odd blue eyes seemed to glow for a moment as he considered this. "It's gotta be something he really cares about if he's this mad. Walker doesn't really care for much." He ticked things off on his fingers. "The rules, his prison, the Pits, his hat, and his knife, I think. Maybe he's lost his rule book? Nah, he's got at least three copies of that thing. I doubt he's lost his prison or the Pits, so it's either his hat or his knife. And since he's still got his hat – I saw him this morning and he still had it – it's got to be his knife."
Not for the first time, I wondered if the kid wasn't part ghost. I'd always labored under the illusion that humans couldn't talk and breathe at the same time. This kid, however, consistently proved that theory wrong with his constant chatter. I tipped my head to the side, a piece of my mind wondering if humans really did turn blue if they didn't stop to take a breath while talking. It would be interesting to see and it might explain my theory on why some ghosts have blue skin.
He gasped, his eyes widening. "I think Phantom's got the knife."
I blinked at him, startled. The kid was smart for a human, but that leap of logic was pretty far out there. "Why do you think that?" I asked slowly.
"I told you, LJ – I saw him." This time, he accented his words, an annoyed tone in his voice.
I nodded, wrinkling my whiskers. Walker collected humans with unique abilities and this boy was no different. He could see things about ghosts just by looking at them. He had known I wasn't just some dumb rat-ghost the first time he'd found me sneaking around the Pits. He must have seen something about the hybrid that made him think the hybrid had Walker's knife.
"That was pretty smart for him to steal Walker's knife. There's something special about that knife, LJ. I don't know what, but it's something. And Walker's going crazy!" He smiled broadly, glancing around conspiratorially before leaning in and whispering, "And Eloise told me that something is wrong with the Pits too. Attendance is way down and one of the guards apologized to her yesterday. Apologized. To Eloise. Can you believe that?"
Shaking my head and fighting to keep a happy smile from my face, I stayed quiet as the boy rambled off on a tangent about what he and Eloise had done yesterday… something about cleaning out an elephant stable. I wasn't really listening however. My claws tapped softly on the hard stones and I let a small, proud smile creep out.
My plan was working. Perfect.
It was quite a while later before I managed to slip out of the kid's room. His older brother had stopped by at one point, rolling his eyes at how the kid was talking to a stupid rat again, but had left again after grabbing something off the small desk and hadn't said a word.
I slid through the quiet corridors, ducking into the shadowed recesses of the Pit wall's many cracks and crevices whenever a pair of guards stormed by. Hidden in the dark corners, I blended in with the rest of the rats and bugs that scuttled over every stone. At one point I ran nose-first into a real rat-ghost, but the greenish animal turned and fled when it saw me. I watched its glowing tail vanish through seemingly solid brick before moving on.
It was, really, due to those creatures that I could move around undetected. Not only were they everywhere and always underfoot, they had created the most unique ways of getting where they wanted to go.
I paused outside the familiar-looking door with the number 143 burned into the wood. Sniffing, I moved slowly across the bottom of the door. At one point, the musky smell of the wood suddenly seemed to disappear. I glanced up and down the deserted hallway once before slipping through the otherwise solid door.
Stepping out of the other side of the door, I focused on the young hybrid for a moment. He was, for a change, awake – but he was just sitting on his bed with an unfocused look in his eye. I crept closer, but he didn't notice. His knees were bent, his arms resting on his knees, those ectoluminum blades glistening in the ghost lights. One of the lights – a small green one – was hovering just at the tip of one of the blades.
What was it doing?
For a few minutes, I stood there, studying the hybrid as annoyance welled up in me. I didn't know what was going on. I'd never seen this happen before. Moreover, I don't like mysteries. Unknown quantities ruin plans and my arrangements could not be ruined. I'd put too much time into my plan for it to be derailed at this point.
I snarled softly, having to give up on the mystery for the time being. I couldn't talk to the hybrid yet, and I strongly doubted the boy knew what was going on anyways. Besides, there were things to be done. Actions to be set in motion. Consequences to be reaped. The young hybrid didn't have a part to play until his next fight – it didn't really hurt for him to sit here and stare at a wall.
But I still hated the mystery. I gave the tiny ghost light a short glare, hoping the emotion-driven thing would feel my wrath, switched my tail sharply against the stones, then headed under the cot towards my portal.
My beautiful city is both my blessing and my curse. Built thousands of years ago by master craftsmen of both the human and the ghost realms, the city is arranged in sweeping circles with wide broadways and slender, tree-like arches and columns. For hundreds of years, the ancient city had been an odd combination of the best the Ghost Zone and Earth had to offer. Thousands of artisans, songwriters, and inventors flocked to the city to travel to the other realms and see the magnificence of the 'other side'. The city's citizens consisted of normal human and ghosts… and a handful of people like me.
We were called talented; humans that had been exposed to too much spectral radiation during critical parts of our development. We could do all sorts of weird and odd things. I had only one real talent: transmogrification. This ability to look however I wanted to stayed with me after my death – thus the rat body I usually inhabited.
I had died during the falling of my city. The weakening of the veil between the human world and the ghost realm vanished, and our entire island city was pulled into this weird version of limbo. Not truly in the human or the ghost worlds – somewhere in between. In one day and one night of fiery explosions and whale-sized tsunamis, my city was thrust into legend, and I am its only remaining Guardian.
Racing through the deserted streets, I jumped easily over the holes and cracks that had developed in the time-worn cobbles. The portal in the hybrid's cell always dumped me on the wrong side of town. I needed to get back to the mirror and as I ran I cursed the fact that I couldn't teleport. If I was right, that idiotic Box Ghost should be making his appearance back in the human world right about now. I wanted to see it.
It was the next step in my plan.
I skidded around the corner next to the Guardian's Temple and ran through an archway to my right and into the temple proper. The mirror was propped up against one wall, its controls spread messily on the cracked mosaic floor. Stopping before I reached the jumbled controls, I scowled for a minute as I thought. The delicate movements needed to hone in on the human world would be a lot easier to do this with human hands.
I'd already done this recently; it should be easier this time. My eyes closed and my claws dug into the cracks of the tiles. Every molecule of my being started to tingle and itch, my fur standing up on its end. It was an agonizing amount of time before the transformation was complete and I was crouched on two human feet again. Panting, I straightened up, took a wobbly step forward, and collapsed gratefully into my place on the floor.
A young, blue-eyed ghost stared back at me in the mirror. Blue streaks cut through my black hair and a small golden seahorse pendant hung at my throat. Simple, white servant's clothes fell around me. My fingers reached out and tapped a beautiful red crystal to my right, causing it to glow. My insubstantial reflection vanished in a wash of colors.
For just a moment I tapped the various crystals splayed out around me like a glittering rainbow. The random colors flickered and vanished, leaving me with a static-filled and jumpy image of a metal-lined room. I scowled at the unfocused image, but there really wasn't anything I could do. The ghost lights that were giving me the images gained energy from emotions and there wasn't enough energy in the air on the sending side to power the tiny spirits.
Finally, the three colorful blobs dissolved into human-like images. One was that woman dressed in blue, another an overly-large man in sunset orange, the last a familiar-looking paunchy ghost with a well-known and rather unhealthy obsession for all things cardboard and square.
The blue-garbed woman stood before the glowing container, staring in at her captive with a grim look on her face. "Where is my son?" Her voice came through the connection weak and garbled, but understandable.
The Box Ghost didn't seem to answer. It just folded its arms and pouted.
I watched the silent standoff, a small smile forming on my face. My plan was going much more smoothly than I had hoped. This woman, a fierce ghost hunter by most accounts, would retrieve the necessary information from her prisoner. It would take a while for her to get a rescue team together and discover how to access the Pits and that would give me ample time to throw the next phase of my plan into motion.
Soon, the young hybrid would fall apart and I would sweep in to pick up the pieces. He already had the key, and most likely had some knowledge of the location of the three portals the key could open. The rebels were getting into place and gaining strength and the warden was losing his innate control of the lair after the loss of his key.
Everything was going as planned. I let a small laugh trickle out of my mouth. Everything was perfect.
Then something unexpected happened, tossing my carefully created plan out the window.
And all I could do was sit there and stare.
Maddie had the small ectogun trained on the newest intruder. Shrouded in a deep green cloak, the figure was holding perfectly still. She knew it had to be some kind of ghost – not merely because it had just stepped out of the Ghost Zone. The rough edges of the cape dangled nearly a foot off the ground and no feet were visible. Whatever was hidden in the shadows was floating.
Beside her, Jack had stumbled to his feet, a beat behind his wife. The much larger bazooka was now resting firmly on his shoulder and had locked in on the specter. "Ghost!" he bellowed unnecessarily.
Maddie took a deep breath as the chill presence of the ghost suddenly swept through the room, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. With a snarl, she fought back the fear that was trying to creep into her mind. Her weapon wavered for a moment. "Ghost," she cursed softly, "show yourself."
The ghost moved slowly, one silvery hand appearing from the shadows. Both the Fentons tensed, but the figure made no move to attack them. Slowly, it reached up for its hood and pushed it back, revealing its face. The man facing them had metallic skin, an evil twist to his mouth, and fierce green eyes. Maddie's eyes narrowed – this was the same hunter ghost they had seen numerous times hunting their son.
Then, to the confusion of both the humans, the ghost raised his other hand and held them both in the air over his head in surrender.
"What do you want," Maddie hissed. The freezing hand clawing at her guts was making her nervous. Her finger crept closer to the trigger. This thing was not to be trusted.
"I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's Greatest Predator," he proclaimed. His voice was an odd combination of a metallic twang and the distant echo of ghost's speech.
"We knew that," Jack muttered, "but what do you want?"
The ghost shot them an annoyed look. "I was here to tell you of the whereabouts of the whelp, but if you don't want to know I'll leave."
"Whelp?" Maddie and Jack exchanged a quick glance, neither willing to take their eyes off the specter floating in their basement for long.
Skulker waited a beat before answering. Both the human's guns were still pointed at him – one wrong move could get his suit destroyed and set the entire rebellion weeks behind schedule. "The whelp. Your son. Phantom."
Her fingers tensed at Danny's name, her finger brushing against the trigger. A blast of emerald energy flared out of the gun and nicked the ghost's shoulder. "Where is my son?" she snapped, fear and anger surging through her. "What have you done with him?"
"I have done nothing to him," the ghost retorted heatedly as the sudden surge of human emotions flooded through him. He let his arms drop. "I was trying to help."
Maddie took a step forwards, Jack moving with her, and the gun focused on the ghost's eyes. Skulker's presence was draining, but if he really knew something of her son… "Where is my son?" she asked again, quieter.
Skulker stared into her eyes, watching as Maddie shivered and fought to keep from taking a step backwards. "I am part of a rebellion that has been brewing for a few years," the ghost began. "There is a place in the Ghost Zone that is being used to torture and execute people. It is a slaughterhouse created for the enjoyment of spectators."
"You're a ghost hunter," Jack asked with confusion in his eyes, "you hunt and kill things all the time. Why do you care?"
"There is a difference between a hunter and a murderer," the ghost said irritably. "I do not slaughter mercilessly and needlessly, I hunt. The creation of the Pits and its purpose is immoral and gives true predators like myself a bad name. Thousands of ghosts have died." He glared at them coldly for a moment. "In Walker's Pits, ghosts and humans alike are forced into an arena, where they must fight until one is dead."
He shook his head sourly. "For many years, the rebellion has been planning on destroying the Pits once and for all, but we needed a ghost powerful enough to fight Walker and his deputies. After we heard that your son was targeted, I tried to catch him and bring him to the rebellion for protection and to get his help, but I failed and he vanished before I could do anything. Now our best hope at getting rid of that monstrosity is locked within its very walls. We can't get anyone out."
Maddie's hand was trembling, the sight of the gun jumping all over the ghost's slivery face. "Where is my son?" She didn't want to hear the answer she knew was going to come out of the specter's mouth.
Skulker met her gaze for the second time. She took an instinctive step backwards at the cold and uncaring soul that stared into her eyes. This ghost might be here, willing to help, willing to give out information… but it was clear that he was here for his own purposes. Maddie and Jack were nothing more than pawns to this great ghost predator. He cared nothing for them beyond their potential use. "He is trapped in the Pits."
As Maddie's world shattered into a million pieces, the Box Ghost, still trapped in the ghost shield behind them, chortled.
I glared at the mirror and crossed my arms. "Stupid rebels," I muttered. My carefully laid plans were broken… again. Before, I'd actually had to help those incompetent ghost hunters get that hybrid into the Pits. This was another bump in the road. Skulker had moved faster than I had figured he would.
Tapping my fingers against my knee, I contemplated what I should do next. On the mirror, the green-cloaked rebel vanished back through the portal, leaving the hybrid's parents sitting on chairs, apparently stunned. They would try and rescue their son as soon as possible.
I grimaced. I couldn't have that. It took years of planning to get the something into Walker's Pits powerful enough to destroy them, and I wasn't going to just let all my plans disintegrate. He could not be rescued before he played his part.
"There's really only one thing I can do," I said to myself, reaching out to tap the crystalline controls and seeing the faces of Walker's victims flicker past on the screen. Human or ghost, the cruelty of Walker's Pits showed in their eyes.
Crazy.
Angry.
Miserable.
It was all there and it tore at me. The pride and joy of my beautiful city… reduced to that.
"I'm going to have to step up my plans." I bit my lip, thinking about it. It really wasn't perfect, but I was out of time. I needed to talk to the young hybrid and move on with the plan. I nodded slowly as I convinced myself that it was the right thing to do.
The screen flickered suddenly to a new ghost light when I thought about the young hybrid. He was kneeling in the middle of the pit with an extremely curvaceous female ghost stalking towards him. My forehead furrowed as I watched, trying to figure out the hybrid's plan.
The ghost got closer; the boy merely closed his eyes and didn't move.
I got slowly to my feet, watching the screen with a mingling sense of doom and panic. "What? No!" My voice barely came out of my throat. I stared at the mirror as horror flooded through me. The boy had given up. I was too late.
The female ghost's fist blazed with energy and flew through the air towards the defenseless hybrid.
"NO!" I screamed, my voice echoing off nearly buildings as the rest of my finely crafted plan crumbled into dust.
"No," the young woman whispered as she read. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "Did he die? He had to have lived, right? If he wrote in the journal…"
She hesitated, flipping back towards the cover and rereading it. "He started this journal two weeks into this imprisonment. That's fourteen days – fourteen fights – and I've only read about ten of those, so he had to have lived through this one."
Setting the notebook carefully on the ground, she got up and limped around the room, starting at the damage the boy had done during his stay. It was still easily visible. The door was singed, the rocks blackened in places. "This was his room," she murmured and furrowed her forehead. "He was here. He lived here, and he died here. Well, I assume he's dead since he left his notebook behind."
With no answers coming from the deserted room, the young woman paced. "Or perhaps he escaped. If he did that, maybe I can do it too if I could put the clues together. What do I know?"
"There are three portals – one that leads to the human world, the one I want. To get through it I'm going to have to unlock it somehow, unless it's unlocked already for some reason. I need some kind of key…" she trailed off as the thoughts congealed in her head. "The knife is the key. I know that already."
She looked down at the knife she held clenched in her fist. Rusty and bloody, the knife glinted dully in the ghost lights. "But what's the point of having it if I don't know where any portals are?" She twisted the knife back and forth. "Besides, I can't get out of this room."
Her eyes widened in excitement. She grabbed the book, flipping through the pages until she found the rat's second installment and scanned it. "LJ used the knife to get through the door," she looked up, "that door. The key can open any lock."
Now all she needed to do was get up the courage to go and try it.
She stared at the door for a moment before turning to pick up the notebook and continuing to read…