Chapter Twenty-One: Welcome to the Apocalypse
The ground shook, and Danny was thrown off his feet, landing on his broken arm. The pain nearly made him pass out, black spots dancing across his vision. Brilliant lightning flashed across the cloudless sky, afterimages lingering on Danny's retinas, and it took on a greenish hue. Wind stung his eyes. The remaining crystals tumbled down around him, wires snapping; two nearly hit him, smashing to pieces and cutting his skin. Above him, the portal closed. There was a noise worse than anything Danny had ever heard before—worse than the Empress ripping earth from the ground or the beast landing on the shield—like two planets colliding. The smell of ozone and ectoplasm seared his nose.
What's happening? Danny's muddled mind seemed to process the outside world slowly, ever so slowly, as though the software in his brain was old and broken. He couldn't think. Confusion and horror made his chest tight. Why didn't it work? Had the crystals been some kind of trap—a set up? But the Empress had seemed genuinely surprised that he'd managed to get out of her grip at all. If it hadn't been, though, why had she been laughing?
Why was she still laughing? Why was the ground shaking? Why was the sky greener? Why had breaking the crystal not had any effect? Why—why—why—
…His plans were my plans…
Pariah Dark had once brought Amity Park to the Zone. Could the Empress have done something similar? Danny didn't know. He huddled on the ground, too weak to fly, as the earth undulated around him, as pliable as waves. He could only ride them out, the way a tiny sailboat did in a massive storm. It seemed to last an eternity. Then, finally, it stopped. His ears were ringing, but now that the clamor had ended, he could hear her laughing—laughing—laughing. It wormed its way into his skull like a parasite.
"Oh, little abomination. How valiantly you've fought. It would be admirable, truly, except you are so very terrible at it." Danny was lifted from where he'd been lying, shards of crystal slipping from his hazmat suit. It wasn't of his own volition, he registered belatedly; he was caught in her grasp once more. "Did you honestly think that would stop me? I am far smarter than any other enemy you have faced before." She looked him in the eye, red against green. Her hair was in disarray, and a few of her bones had been blown off, but this didn't make her any less intimidating. These were the only things out of place; she had not a cut or bruise or scrape—not once, not one single time, had Danny been able to land a blow.
Not physically, and not, it seemed, to her plans.
"What did you do?" he tried to snarl. It came out as a defeated whisper. Many of the trees behind her had fallen. Others were cracked—some were blackened and smoking. He didn't want to think about Amity, about how many people had been crushed by falling buildings… What about his friends? His family? Around them, ghosts continued to fight, but Danny could tell Dora's army was outnumbered, if only slightly—the queen had said that this wasn't the Empress's entire army, after all. He forced his voice into something stronger. "What were the crystals for?" And why didn't breaking one stop what followed next?
Danny was pretty sure he was going to die—he had barely any energy left, he was trapped in her telekinesis again, and the pain was so bad he couldn't think. But he wanted to know why he had failed before he died… Maybe he could get on the Fenton phones and warn Sam and Tucker… Maybe he could tell them what to say to his parents, his parents who knew he was Phantom now… His parents who he might never see again…
No, I will. I will. But was there any point, after he had failed? His emotions couldn't decide between despair, anger, and confusion, so the three grappled inside him, intent on becoming dominant. But all of them were smothered in that same slowness of thought, like they'd been covered in thick tar.
"You are arrogant," the Empress said. And Danny's friends were dying—or they had died—and here she was insulting him, as though he'd done something wrong, and not her. She'd killed people.
"Pot, kettle," Danny snapped back. If he never saw his friends or family again, it would be her fault—and if he had failed, he might as well make it as difficult for her as possible. It was the principle of the thing.
The Empress's eyes narrowed, and she reached out with her hand, touching his right arm—the broken one—and gripping it tightly. The half-ghost groaned in agony, clenching his teeth. "I suggest," she said coolly, "that you not antagonize the one who controls how quickly—and how painfully—you perish."
"You're going to torture and kill me anyway," Danny growled. He could feel the fog lifting from his mind. She had made his life miserable. She had driven ghosts from their homes and destroyed them—and people—indiscriminately. She was crazy. And somehow, she'd outsmarted him. Somehow, she'd won, even though she was a sack of shit with an ego the size of Mount Everest.
"I am," she acknowledged, releasing his arm. "But 'torture' is such a small word for all that it encompasses. I will not torture you, abomination. I will break you—in mind, body, and spirit." She squeezed her long fingers into a fist, and Danny's ribcage creaked at the additional pressure, his muscles spasming; she had already cracked at least one of them. Danny gasped, determined to make not a sound. The Empress let up, and he choked in a shuddering breath.
"I'll try not to break you too soon, though—that would spoil the fun. And I want to savor your look of hopeless defeat as long as I can." Danny could still move his mouth—he wanted to spit on her, show her he wasn't defeated. I'm not defeated until I'm dead. Well, until he no longer existed. It wasn't hope that fueled the desire, however; he knew the likelihood of escaping at this point was low.
It was fueled by revenge.
But she'd already hurt him and weakened him to the point he could no longer make a shield—he didn't want to become so injured he blacked out or couldn't move even if he did somehow escape her grip. Now that his head was clearer, he realized he couldn't afford to be dumb about this.
"I broke your crystal—how can you be so sure it worked, anyway?" Danny asked. Then, taking a wild guess, he said, "It doesn't look like Amity Park's in the Zone." And it didn't—for all that the sky had taken on a green tint, it was still dark. The Ghost Zone didn't have a night—its sky was a bright, radioactive green all the time. The Empress snorted.
"Your attempts at dragging information from me are pitiful, but I suppose you have earned it, in some small way—you are not a worthy opponent, but you, even half-human, fared better than all the others. I see that Aevum was right to worry about you—if you were a full-ghost, I might've even brought you over to my side." It was an odd compliment, and it made Danny feel slimy, as though he'd been doused in something foul—like oil or sewage. He didn't want her filthy compliments.
But he stayed silent; he could tell she was on the brink of revealing what she had done, eager to boast and brag as most villains were. She may have been smarter, more ruthless, and more prepared than his other enemies, but she wasn't as different as she claimed.
"You think small," she began. Danny bit his tongue to keep from answering, to keep from allowing this murderer to get away with insulting him. "Your opposition has only ever thought small, as well—Pariah included, at least when it came to the human realm. But I am not as small—"
She was cut off by the sound of a blaster—a ghost blaster. She side-stepped the actual shot itself easily, peering down below them. Danny struggled, hoping her concentration had been broken, but her grip on him was as tight as ever.
"Leave my son alone, spook!"
Oh, fuck. He knew that voice anywhere—he'd known it all his life. His mother. Relief flooded him—they still care, she called me her son—shadowed by a suffocating terror. It would take less than a look for the Empress to kill his parents, for them to explode like that man had, their eyes wide—
"Son?" the Empress inquired, something like vicious happiness in her tone. Danny wanted to be sick. No, no, this can't be happening. They aren't going to die in front of me—they aren't. They can't. Please. It would be bad enough for the Empress to kill him without killing his parents before his eyes. His core ached—protect, protect, protect—and he felt as if every cell in his body was straining against the Empress's telekinesis.
"That's right, ghost freak!" That was his dad. "Step away from Danny!"
The Empress smirked at the half-ghost. "You should've mentioned how amusing they are, abomination." She reached her hand up. Danny gritted his teeth, sweat breaking out across his face and arms and torso. All his muscles worked against her—he felt as though his very being was working against her—she brought her hand up—you have to protect them!—a sharp, stabbing pain pierced his core—
And again—somehow, though he had felt no energy left for him to use—he summoned a shield strong enough to break her powers. It was like he had found a new reservoir, somewhere deep inside himself. But he had to get to his parents—he teleported—
His arms raised, he stood on the ground, legs and arms wide, his shield flickering up around his teal-and-orange-clad parents just in time as the Empress's telekinesis bashed against it, seeking a weakness.
"How have you done that?" the Empress snarled. She closed both her fists, and Danny strained. The agony in his core grew more pronounced, but he didn't stop He couldn't stop. His parents were behind him, right behind him, and he was the only thing standing between them and their deaths. Around her, her soldiers looked up at the noise, but were too busy with Dora's army to intervene. "Again? It's not possible!"
"Danny," his mom said urgently. "Are you alright? Did she hurt you?" Danny's ribs and core and arm all seemed to flare up as she said it, his body eager for rest. Holding up his broken limb hurt, but more adrenaline was flooding his system, taking away the pain. He glanced at her, an ugly frown marring his lips. Both his parents were armed to the teeth—more than usual, more than he'd seen earlier. He wasn't entirely sure how they'd managed to get through so many enemy ghosts, but neither appeared to be critically hurt: his dad had a bruised jaw, his mom a burn on her leg.
"I told you to stay on the other side of the shield!" he growled. His mom flinched. "If I hadn't teleported in time, she would've ripped you apart."
"We couldn't just leave you," his dad told him. For once, his tone was serious, almost pained, and entirely no-nonsense. "Besides, it looked like you needed help."
Something in the half-ghost broke at those words. It wasn't the break of something whole—it was as if a wound, healed wrong, had been re-opened so it could heal right. It looked like you needed help. They cared. They still loved him. His mom's first words had been to ask if he was okay—they still considered him their son. The fear that had been lingering in the back of his mind dissipated like smoke.
It almost brought tears to his eyes, the overwhelming, all-encompassing relief.
"You shouldn't have come! I was fine!" Danny insisted. He refused to admit the resignation he'd felt at dying, the powerlessness, the horrible taste of absolute desperation, the burn of helpless fury. He'd been empty of energy, empty of hope. But escaping wasn't worth his parents' lives.
His attention was taken from them as the Empress screamed, forcing more pressure onto Danny's shield. He cried out—it felt as though someone had stabbed him and was carving out his core, piece by piece. Something was wrong, very wrong, but he had to keep the shield up. His parents yelled in alarm, but somehow the shield wasn't cracking or breaking, though Danny felt like he was cracking and breaking.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" the Empress roared. "Your shield cannot hold!"
Danny wanted to teleport both his parents out, but he could still barely teleport himself and one other—teleporting two would be too much. He wouldn't want to risk it with anyone, much less his parents. They both seemed scared and pale, beside him. It was odd—because parents were supposed to be the strong ones, the ones who knew what to do. But his parents had never faced a ghost so deadly, so potent.
I have to get them out of here. But how?
He had to buy time to think, time to do something. If he could somehow teleport them one at a time… But he couldn't leave one of them behind; the Empress would kill whichever parent he left right away.
"Tell me what you did to Amity!" Danny yelled. It had been the first thing to pop into his head, and he still needed to know what she had done. He still needed to know what he had failed to stop, needed to know if he could fix what he hadn't been able to prevent.
"You still can't comprehend what I've done, even when I've practically told you!" the Empress spat. The pressure around his shield let up slightly as she spoke—it took concentration to direct her telekinesis, but talking took concentration, too. Maybe if I… An idea was forming in Danny's mind. But would it work? "Are you really so arrogant as to think that Amity Park was central to my plans? The question is not what I've done to your precious city—the question is what I have done to the world!"
Her words echoed in Danny's mind, even as he tried to focus on his plan. They ricocheted off the front of his skull to the back, weaving in and out of his thoughts. Beside him, his parents gasped, understanding the implications as well as he had.
The world…
She was right; this had been so much bigger than Danny—bigger than Amity. How had they not seen it? How had he lowered his guard so far that she had managed to do something to the entire world? Had she opened portals elsewhere, in places that had no defenses against ghosts? Was that why her army was smaller than it should've been?
He was so stupid. She hadn't just played him with his identity—she'd played him with everything. They'd been so focused on protecting Amity… The rest of the world was helpless against ghosts. They'd only just found out they existed. He thought about how many people might have died because he had been too dumb to save them, paying too much attention to his own problems. People all over the world, terrified by something they'd never seen before. He wanted to vomit.
What had she done?
Keep her talking. It wasn't that he needed the information—though he did need it, as desperately as he needed air or water—but he needed her to be distracted, or as distracted as he could get her.
Maybe he had failed the world, but he wasn't about to fail his parents, too.
"Are you going to actually tell me?" he demanded. "Or are you going to make me guess? You talk a lot for someone who actually doesn't say that much." The angrier he made her, the better; it was more likely she wouldn't take notice of the odd color of his eyes, or the glow by his feet.
"I will have your subservience before I let you die, abomination," the Empress vowed. "You will name me your Empress!"
"You know, that actually doesn't answer my question," Danny said. He braced himself—he'd have to move quickly—more quickly than the Empress, who was already one of the fastest ghosts Danny had encountered.
"You—" But Danny didn't hear what she said after that—it sounded like another insult, anyway, not valuable information. He turned on his heel, dropping the shield as another one—one made entirely of ice—rose around them, hopefully enough to stop the Empress for a few seconds. That was all he needed. The agony in his core mounted until he felt like he couldn't breathe or move—but he had to.
To save them.
He grabbed the parent closest to him—his dad, who only had time to grunt in surprise—and teleported them away, just outside the shield. "In!" he shouted, only hoping he obeyed before teleporting back to his mom. The ice shield, imbued with ectoplasm, would stop ghostly attacks as well as physical ones, but it was nowhere as durable. The Empress was almost through, screaming the entire time, as he hugged his mom close, also taking her away.
He transformed into a human as he heard the sound of the Empress appearing behind him, launching himself across the shield. He made it just in time, his enemy's telekinesis fizzling as it touched the shield. He fell on his hands and knees, his jeans and T-shirt out of place on the battlefield. They were near where they were before, when he'd originally revealed himself to his parents. His core was screaming at him, and he clutched at his chest, forcing himself to inhale, exhale.
Something is definitely wrong.
"—Danny! Danny!" His mom was kneeling next to him, her hands hovering over him uncertainly, as if she didn't know if she could touch him. "What's happening? Where are you hurt?" His dad stood on his other side, his gun clenched tightly in his fist.
"I—"
"You are as foolish as you are arrogant!" the Empress called across the shield. Danny looked up, baring his teeth at her. The constant barrage of insults was tiring, and he found himself wanting her to either tell him what exactly she'd doneto hisworldor shut her goddamn mouth.
"The hell are you talking about now?" he yelled back, lurching to his feet to glare at her. He stumbled, but didn't fall, his mom still uncertain at his side. She was glancing between him and the Empress as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Or hearing. It must've been a shock—her somewhat shy, somewhat awkward son was screaming at one of the most powerful ghosts of all time.
One he'd failed to stop.
The Empress laughed, that same harsh, grating sound he'd heard originally. It scraped him raw, that sound. "Perhaps 'ignorant' would be more apt, as you do not even seem to comprehend what you've done. I had looked forward to killing you, but I suppose you killing yourself would have more flair."
Shut up, shut up, shut up. She was deliberately vague and was pleased to withhold answers from him, pleased to torture him, pleased to kill his parents and his friends and people and ghosts under his protection.
Why can't she ever give me a straight fucking answer?
"What did you do to my world?" he screamed in frustration and rage. His core contracted painfully at his emotion, but he ignored it. "Tell me!"
His dad took a step closer. "Danny, maybe—"
"TELL ME!" he demanded again, stepping until he was so close to the shield he could feel its warmth on the front of his body.
"Ruling two realms is harder than ruling one," the Empress said, smirking. "I simply took care of that issue."
…took care of that issue…
He couldn't speak. It was too horrible to contemplate—he'd failed completely, utterly, and wholly in stopping her. He'd failed everyone so badly. He'd failed, failed, failed.
"You merged the Zone with Earth?" his mom asked, voice disbelieving. "That's not possible!" The Empress's terrible gaze turned to her, and she flinched.
Merged them? She'd merged them? How? How had she done such a thing? With the crystals? But then why had breaking one not done anything? His mind seemed to creep, inch by inch, through his thoughts. Was there any way to reverse it—a second chance to stop what he'd failed to stop the first time?
Or were the two dimensions doomed to be stuck together for the rest of their existence? How did it even work? The shaking and lightning made more sense, he supposed distantly, but he didn't feel like the physics of the Zone applied here. And the Earth was a planet.
How do you merge a planet?
"Believe what you will, idiot human. Your science as it pertains to ghosts has barely scratched the surface—you are more ignorant than your abomination of a son," the Empress sneered. Danny felt like his mind was regressing back to that slow pace, back to that numbing confusion. Perhaps it would be better than this choking horror or profound guilt.
How many people had the Empress really killed? He didn't even know—and that was somehow worse. How big was her army, truly?
He didn't know that either.
"Don't call him that!" his dad said. "The only abomination here is you, spook!"
"I grow bored of you, worthless humans," the Empress said. She looked into the distance. "It appears your blue friend is having difficulties." Slowly, ever so slowly, Danny's head turned; he saw Dora flying sluggishly around the Empress's immense beast, clearly tired, run ragged. The creature, on the other hand, didn't seem any more hurt than when he'd last seen it.
He had failed the world, and now he would fail her. He couldn't stand it, but he couldn't move. His core ached in his chest, a deeper pain than he'd ever felt before. His arm was broken, his ribs cracked. He didn't know where his friends were—he hadn't heard them over the Fenton phones in ages, now. Had they all died?
Had he failed them, too?
Distracted as he was, Danny still managed to register the Empress's attack in time—she tugged one of the trees up from the dirt behind her faster than he would've believed possible—a trunk at least twenty feet long, and sent it hurtling at them—she released her telekinesis—it would go flying through the shield. He reached around, holding both his parents, and turned them intangible. His dad yelped at the strange sensation, and the tree went sailing harmlessly through him.
"Come out and face me!" the Empress challenged. "Your allies perish out here while you hide in there, you worthless coward! Or are you too weak to fight me? I will destroy every last one of your faithful ghost friends, and the humans I will kill next, so easily, like fingers squeezing a grape until they burst—"
"Don't listen to her," his mom said, pulling her wrist from his grip. "She's trying to lure you out there."
"I know," Danny muttered. I'm not fucking stupid, he wanted to add, only just managing to refrain. "But she's right—Dora is going to die if she doesn't get help." She was right about the other things, too, though Danny didn't see the point in telling his mom this. He was a coward; he was weak. He didn't have enough power to fight her, though he could still feel that odd reserve of energy just beneath the pain in his core. She'd only capture him again, something he couldn't afford. He wouldn't be able to help Dora either way. I have to, though. She came here to my aid, just like I came to hers. I have to. There has to be a way…
"She's a ghost, Danny," his dad pointed out skeptically. "She can't 'die.'"
Danny set his jaw and looked—properly looked—at his father. "Don't," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Just—don't. Not right now." His dad had the decency to appear chastened.
"You'll be dead soon anyway, abomination!" the Empress cried. "Probably only hours, now. What does it matter, if you die out here or in there? I will have killed you either way!" Her taunts stopped as one of her soldiers came flying up. Danny couldn't hear what he said, but his mistress's face transformed into an odd mixture of thoughtful and irritated.
What does she mean that I'll be dead in hours? What is she talking about? But she was fucking insane—who was to say she wasn't just spouting whatever came to her in order to keep his morale low, or to draw him out? But she was smart enough and with it enough to pull this off, another side of him pointed out.
"It seems humanity has gained a small measure of power since I saw it last," the Empress said. What? "It will be a pity that I won't witness your death, or my magnificent beast finishing Queen Dora and ravaging your pathetic city." Is she leaving? Why? He watched her carefully, looking for signs of a trick—but he couldn't see any. "Grayskelis, I leave you in charge. I trust you will strike quickly and without mercy."
"As always, Mistress," the ghost beside her—"Grayskelis"—nodded. "I shall not fail you." He saluted her as she teleported away—to where? Had she really just… left? Like that? As though she hadn't just nearly destroyed Amity? But it wasn't just Amity she was trying to destroy, Danny thought bitterly. It was the world.
It felt surreal, that she'd left, even though neither of them had been defeated by the other. It left him feeling loose, like a piece of trash blown by the wind. Almost empty. She was out there, going to cause more havoc, more deaths, but he couldn't follow. He didn't even know where she was, now. He couldn't stop her.
He felt like he could barely stand.
The ghost on the other side of the shield flew away, beginning to shout orders at what was now his army. Danny watched.
She's gone, though. The real threat, the strongest threat is gone. You could still save Dora, save Amity. Drive her army away—she has other problems. It felt wrong, wrong and dirty. She was out decimating other parts of the world and all he could think about was his own city, his own friends.
But what else could he do?
He swallowed, steeling himself. He didn't know where Sam, Tucker, or Jazz were—he hadn't heard a peep from them. But he couldn't—he couldn't—he had to focus on the ones he knew he could save. On the ones he knew he could protect.
"I need you to make sure no other ghost is inside the shield," he said, his voice stronger than he'd thought it would be. His parents, having been watching the Empress leave, stared at him in surprise. "We don't know if there's anyone else to do it—I haven't seen the Huntress or the GIW at all. Aside from me, you might be… You might be all we have left." Sam, Tucker, Jazz. Please. You have to be alive. But there were so many ways they could've died—ghosts or debris were just the start. He didn't know. Please.
"We're not leaving you—" his mom began.
"Why don't you ever LISTEN TO ME?" Danny bellowed, pivoting to face her. She flinched, and that hurt Danny, somewhere small inside. He was as tall as she was, now, though not as tall as his dad. All the frustration, all the anger, all the uncertainty came pouring out of him in a rush, like water boiling over a pot. "I asked you to stay on this side of the shield, and you came after me! I asked you to take the Empress seriously, and you blew me off! CAN YOU NOT JUST DO THIS ONE THING?"
It wasn't even anger at them, not really—it was fury at himself, for being tricked, for allowing this to happen, for failing. It was the terror that his friends had died, and he hadn't even had the decency to be there with them. He couldn't take it, not anymore. Everything had broken around him—physically, he had no idea what shape the world was in, what had even happened, really.
He didn't know, and it was killing him.
His parents stood there, mouths slightly open, as if they couldn't believe that their usually mild-mannered son had just shouted at them. His dad recovered first, lifting his hand up, as if to put his hand on his son's shoulder. He thought better of it, seeing the look in Danny's eye, drawing his hand back.
"We're sorry, Dann-o. It was just—just such a shock—and we didn't know before. We didn't know," his dad whispered. "We're sorry," he repeated, as if asking for Danny's forgiveness.
But now, like earlier, wasn't the time for this. Fires burned in the distance, lapping at his home—how many more would be taken by the flames? How many were trapped beneath rubble, struggling to get out? Though if the ghosts got in, Danny knew no one would survive. Not even him, probably.
"I know," the half-ghost said. "But I need you to listen, okay? Listen to me, and please do what I say. You have to make sure all the ghosts are gone—you know that if they coordinate an attack on both sides of the shield—"
"Alright, Danny." His mom shouldered her gun. She got the car keys out of her pocket—the GAV must've been somewhere close by. "We'll do what you want. We—we love you."
"I love you, too," Danny murmured. He didn't have time to watch them leave. It was eerily similar to how he'd left last time, but hopefully—hopefully he'd be able to defeat the creature and stop the attack. The Empress had been confident he was going to die, but he was going to prove her wrong.
He was going to win this time. He had failed to save the world, but he could do this one thing. Just this one thing. He forced his tired body to move through the shield and transformed into Phantom. He cried out as his core shuddered and nearly seemed to give out. Realistically, he should've already passed out by now—he should've passed out long ago. But that strange energy reserve was there. And he was going to use it.
But first—as he flew upward, ready to battle the beast again, he created a cast of ice, encasing his right arm and keeping it from further damage. It wasn't a long-term solution, but it would hold.
He made himself go faster—he could see that the giant creature's attention on Dora was waning as she waned, becoming more and more interested in the shield. Up close, he could see that Dora was leaking ectoplasm from a dozen different wounds, her wings shredded, her flame weak. The half-ghost suspected she wouldn't be able to stay in her dragon form for much longer, either.
"Dora!" he called to get her attention. She didn't seem pleased to see him, the exhaustion overshadowing everything in her face, which seemed so much older now, the reptilian wrinkles giving it a weathered, eroded appearance. "Can you hold?"
"I—I do not know, Sir Phantom. What has happened? What has the Empress done?" she asked, dodging a half-hearted lunge.
"She—" Danny could hardly admit his own failure, the fact that he had condemned millions to painful deaths. "She said she merged the Zone and Earth. I don't know how."
"Despicable witch!" Dora yelled. "To meddle in such things as worlds…" She growled, breathing fire at the creature. It was weak, however, and the beast began to lumber back toward the shield. If it gets in a couple good hits…
"I almost had it, last time," the half-ghost said. "Can you distract it again if I go intangible?" The dragon looked hesitant.
"I am not strong enough," she confessed. "And I do not think I could enter it, either, even should I revert to my smaller form. If I change, I will not be able to do much of anything." Danny frowned, gazing below. Grayskelis was beginning to have ghosts form up behind the creature, intent on flooding into Amity after it broke through the shield.
"Could you do something about them?" he asked, pointing. The dragon followed his finger. She nodded decisively.
"Yes. I shall create chaos among their ranks. I wish you luck here, Sir Phantom—you are strong." With those parting words, she dove, her maw a-glow as she readied her flame.
Not strong enough, apparently.
He made himself intangible, ignoring the protest of his core, and dove directly into the creature. This time, it seemed to realize what was happening, and without Dora to distract it, it turned its attention to him. On the inside, its tissues constricted, as though trying to trap him. It would make turning any part of his body tangible nearly impossible—he wouldn't be able to feel his way around or summon an ectoblast to kill it.
But what if I… He closed his eyes and concentrated. It felt as though a thousand needles were stabbing his core simultaneously, as though it was burning and melting and freezing and falling all at once—but he did it. He felt his cells replicate, pulling apart into a facsimile of himself—a clone. It flew up and out, understanding its mission intuitively.
Danny heard firing outside, and as the beast's tissues relaxed, he knew the clone was doing its work. He'd entered from the neck, so perhaps—down? He turned his finger tangible and lit it with the tiniest bit of ectoplasm, letting him see the slimy innards of the thing he was inside.
He flew downward, careful to keep his finger out of the fleshy walls. There was no Empress here to detain him, this time—he could do it. He would do it. So Amity could be, if not safe, at least safer.
He followed its throat down, flying as fast as he felt he could. Its tissues were as colorless as its outsides, a startling white-gray. He was glad he was holding his breath, as thankful as he was last time. Eventually, the throat opened into—something. Danny guessed it must've been its stomach, though it didn't look like any stomach the half-ghost had ever seen before: the juices inside were pitch black with a warm, orange undertone, almost like magma, and they bubbled and twisted in ways he knew normal liquid just didn't do.
He didn't risk touching it, intangible though he was. Instead, he flew out and was immediately greeted by more strange tissues and organs. I don't exactly know what its "heart" is going to look like. And one of these is bound to be vital, like a kidney or liver. Maybe I should start blasting. He extinguished his light and turned both his hands tangible, focusing on a strange structure in front of him. It was porous and shaped like a ball, but it didn't look firm.
He summoned energy to his hands, turning them tangible, and fired at it. He could feel the vibrations as its vocal chords roared, furious with him. The tissues constricted, moving closer, as if trying to stop Danny. It was probably some kind of defense mechanism—the half-ghost didn't really know.
The odd organ in front of him didn't appear overly effected, however—just slightly blackened. Danny narrowed his eyes and fired again. And again. And again. But although the beast screamed and moved, the organ merely pulsed, its outside still slick and mostly healthy-looking—except for the black spots. He wasn't doing damage fast enough.
Maybe it's resistant to the heat. The cold might be better. His core, it seemed, had finally deadened; Danny couldn't feel any pain, but he couldn't feel anything else, either. No vibrations, no nothing. Only the beating of his heart reassured him that he was still alive.
His hands took on a blue-ish tint, and he knew his eyes glowed as he began to form ice on the outside of the organ. It reacted quickly to the extreme cold, shriveling and wrinkling up. The ice spread to the other parts of the creature, frosting its tissues and other organs.
Danny smiled grimly, growing more and more ice. His hands grew numb, which was odd—he usually wasn't affected by cold at all. But he couldn't think about it—he had to focus. More, he demanded. More! He could feel his clone vanishing as the energy to maintain it was taken by the need for beast screeched, and the body around him shook and trembled as it was destroyed.
This will be the first thing I've ever killed, he thought. It wasn't even sentient, not like a ghost or a human was. It wasn't its fault—the Empress was controlling it, making it destroy the shield. Not that Danny felt any real remorse; when it was a choice between this thing and all the people left in the city, he would choose the people every time.
At last, it seemed Danny had done enough damage. He quickly turned himself back fully intangible as the beast stiffened and began to fall. He passed through its body to the outside world, sucking in a deep breath, marred by the stench of the creature he had killed.
He hovered there, perhaps a couple hundred feet off the ground, as the beast toppled to the ground. It landed with a thud, dirt and dust flung into the air with the force of it. Danny panted. I'm lucky it didn't fall on the shield, he thought. Far below, he watched as what was left of the Empress's army—a sizeable number, to be sure—flew in formation toward the summit of the shield. He could see a few of the soldiers had been left behind, battling it out with the remnants of Dora's own army. He caught a glimpse of flaming blue hair, close to the forest-line, and knew Ember and Kitty were fighting. But where was the queen?
Danny flew down, his whole body shaking at the exertion of creating so much ice. Crystals of sweat had formed on his face, and he couldn't feel his toes as well as his hands now—and the sensations weren't lessening. It was worrisome, but he didn't have time to deal with it—it felt like he didn't have enough time to deal with anything.
His landing was made clumsy by fatigue, and he staggered, kicking up dirt. He blinked blearily at the skirmishing ghosts, frowning as he noticed some who weren't fighting—they were instead standing around someone who was lying on the ground.
It was Dora.
Danny walked as quickly as he could, even forcing his muscles into a tired jog. "Dora!" he exclaimed hoarsely. He coughed, dirt having been lodged in his throat. His mouth tasted like the underside of a shoe. "Dora!" he said, stronger. Some of her guards looked up, their faces sad and drawn.
They parted for him as he came and dropped to his knees beside his ally, the ghost who had tried to help his city even though she had been hunted there. "Dora," he breathed. Too many have died already, he thought, imagining the bodies around the school. And I know ghosts can't really die, but… Please. Not you. It looked like she was asleep.
"There is nothing more we can do, Sir Phantom," one of the ghosts said. He wasn't dressed in armor—only robes. Some kind of healer, then. He had wire-rimmed glasses and a satchel slung over his shoulder. "She expended too much energy—she will perish. I don't have the tools or knowledge to heal her."
"No, she won't," Danny said. He pressed his hand to her torso, and he could still feel the vibration, faint though it was, of her core. He unhooked the thermos from his belt and pointed it at her. At the very least, he would buy her time—she wouldn't get any worse. He pressed the button, pulling her into the container. One of the ghosts, a woman bearing Dora's coat of arms, growled, moving forward and shaking him roughly.
"What have you done to our queen?" she demanded. "Are you so demanding you will not even let her pass in peace?"
Danny shoved her off, standing. He tucked the thermos back into his belt, making sure it was secure. "She won't get any worse in the thermos. That gives us time to get supplies and heal her when we're not in the middle of fighting off the rest of the Empress's army."
"Oh." The woman had a blunt face and blue skin. Her helmet had been discarded on the ground beside them. "I see. I apologize, Sir Phantom—I overreacted."
God, if only everyone else were as polite as she is when they fucked up. "Don't worry about it." Danny brushed the dirt off his hazmat suit. Worry and anxiety—not just for Dora, but for his friends and sister and parents—tried to claw its way up his throat and lodge there, but he shoved it down. "What's your name?" he asked.
"I am First Captain Lady Genevieve," she said, bowing deeply. Her hair, short though it was, flopped in front of her face. "Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier." Actually, she's almost too polite.
"Don't worry about it," he said again. He felt—dazed, almost, as though he'd taken a blow to the head. Only, he hadn't. He rubbed his temple, trying to get his brain working again. It's not over yet, he told himself. He looked up at the night sky, with that green tint. I don't think it will be over for a long time. "I—I have to follow the rest of the Empress's army. I think they're going to try and attack the shield."
"We shall follow," Genevieve decided briskly. She donned her helmet, visor and all. She flew into the air and drew her sword, addressing the ten or so ghosts below her, "Soldiers, you have fought bravely thus far. Our queen would be proud to see you here—and she shall tell you this herself, when she is well. Even without her here, our goal remains the same: we fight, to the last ghost, until we have won back our kingdom. When we finish off the last of the Empress's army here, we shall be one step closer to reclaiming our home!"
It wasn't the most inspiring speech the half-ghost had ever heard, but he knew she was probably as tired and battle-weary as he was. The ghosts cheered regardless, rising up into the air after her. Danny smiled at the captain, though he knew it didn't reach his eyes, and launched himself upward. The healer ghost stayed behind as they flew away.
It looked like the Empress's army had decided to attack the apex of the shield—its weakest point. It was the furthest from all the mainstays, less supported than other parts of the shield. It looked like there were at least a hundred of them, if not more. We don't have to defeat all of them, Danny told himself. Just enough to get the others to retreat.
"ATTACK!" Genevieve shouted, gesturing with her sword. The half-ghost was already on them, slamming those he could reach into the shield. He wanted to use the thermos, but he knew he couldn't—he wouldn't be able to release the ghosts one at a time, and Dora was in there.
He spun and flew up and down, dodging and kicking and punching. Luckily, he couldn't feel the pain of his ribs or his broken arm. He tried to avoid using his powers as much as possible; he could feel that strange energy reserve getting lower and lower. Instead, he relied on his instincts, which had been honed by two years of almost constant battle experience. The numbness in his limbs made it difficult to fight, but not so difficult he couldn't do it.
He did his best to avoid being surrounded, hovering low to the shield. The other ghosts weren't keen on getting close to it, but Danny could pass through it, if need be. It was only when he looked below him that he realized ghosts were actually attacking from both sides of the shield. He cursed, barely dodging as one of the ghosts in front of him stabbed at him with their spear. They had probably come to the top of the shield to keep from being captured by hunters.
The shield was designed mostly to repel attacks from the outside—it wasn't nearly as well protected from the inside, the way a bridge was designed to take weight from above, not below. And with the ghosts on both sides… Danny cursed again. He had to do something.
Not giving himself too much time to think about it, he transformed into a human. The ghosts fighting him looked surprised as he hurtled to the ground, passing easily through the shield. The ghosts on the inside of the shield seemed equally shocked, one of them even shouting and pointing.
Danny halted his free-fall by changing back into Phantom, racing upward to land an uppercut on one of the ghost's stunned faces. They were thrown into the shield, and it crackled around them, white electricity running over their skin like bright snakes. Then they plummeted to the ground below, either forced into stasis or completely gone. Either way, Danny didn't have time to care.
There were fewer ghosts on the inside of the shield than the outside. The half-ghost did his best to dispatch all of them, and the final two ghosts decided to simply flee and hide in the city rather than force him to beat them into submission. On the other side of the shield, Danny realized that of the eleven ghosts that had come with him, only three were left—Genevieve and two others, their faces obscured by their visors.
Danny floated downward about thirty feet and then threw himself up, flying as fast as he could. Please work. Once he was close to the shield, he turned human, his momentum carrying him through the shield, where he turned back into Phantom as quickly as he could, now on the other side.
He fought to Genevieve's side, and he realized that she was actually battling Grayskelis. He fired at the ghost, and though it was weaker than normal, the leader was distracted. "Phantom!" he said, anger leaking into his voice. He turned to the rest of the ghosts around him. "Our objective is to destroy the abomination!" he yelled, pointing to the half-ghost. "We destroy the shield afterward."
Oh, shit.
The ghosts all turned toward him. They couldn't fire at once, though—they'd hit their comrades. Instead, the closest stopped trying to break the shield and focused on fighting him from all sides. Danny dodged the best he could, but some of the hits landed, minor bruises and cuts wearing at him. Genevieve fought at his back, helping him stay one step ahead.
"That wasn't very sportsmanlike, Grayskelis!" Danny shouted, slamming his fist into the face of one of the ghosts trying to gut him.
"You are the last dregs of a defeated force!" Grayskelis taunted. "My Mistress has won, and you are in denial—she will have the world she forged anew." The half-ghost kicked one of the ghosts in the core, dodging their ectoblast.
"Yeah, well, I still broke one of her stupid crystals," Danny said. He wasn't concentrating on the words, more on the fact that Grayskelis was the leader—if he could get rid of him… Something lodged itself in his low back, and he gasped—it was a knife or a dagger. He ripped it out, whirling around to bring the blade down on the ghost who had tried to kill him.
It landed in their core, and it was the first time Danny had deliberately killed someone sentient.
"It was you who were stupid, believing that the network of merging points would be brought down by one broken link. My Mistress is wise—she had an overabundance of points connecting the human realm to the Zone, so that if one should break, the whole would remain unaffected," Grayskelis said. "You failed because she is too thorough and too intelligent—and that is why she has won, and you have lost." That makes sense, he thought distantly. There were too many ghosts—too many left. And Danny could feel his energy waning, his head growing thick, his limbs heavy.
"I haven't lost until I'm dead!" Danny screamed.
And then, he wailed.
He was careful to aim it only at the ghosts, and Genevieve stayed well behind him. They were blown back, some of them bleeding from their ears or eyes or else hurt internally because of it. He wailed until everything had gone numb—he could only feel the steady trickle of ectoplasm from the wound on his back. He wailed until his throat bled. He wailed until he couldn't wail anymore.
As it cut off, he transformed, involuntarily, back into a human. Genevieve cursed, trying to grab him before he went through the shield, but it was too late; he dropped like a million-ton weight toward the ground below. His vision flickered. Fly, he thought. Go intangible. You'll die if you hit the ground like this.
I think I might die anyway.
He managed to access something, though, just before he hit. Some kind of flight. Not enough to stop the fall, but he slowed it enough that nothing broke as he smacked into the street. His skull banged against the asphalt, and Danny saw stars. He moaned at the pain—his whole body somehow ached even as it was numb. It shouldn't have been possible.
He shifted on to his side, curling up as best he could. I did it. I saved Amity. Even if he hadn't been able to rescue the rest of the world, he'd helped someone. He hadn't let everyone die.
He laid there for a long time it felt like—maybe even forever. He flickered in and out of consciousness, but it was like he was flickering in and out of time, experiencing this moment, with him, lying on the hard ground, forever. Blood pooled underneath him, and the makeshift cast on his arm began to melt. The signs were there, but he didn't understand them. Time wasn't moving forward, or at least not with him. He was standing still, watching it pass by. Maybe this was how Clockwork felt.
He didn't hear the footsteps approach, didn't even realize someone was there until the warm barrel of an ectogun pressed against his temple. His eyes fluttered open, but he couldn't have moved even if he'd tried.
"Well, look what I've found." It was a terrible voice, a voice from his nightmares. He could picture the voice's eyes—those terrible gray eyes. "A little ghost boy, all alone. How perfect."
It was Agent R.
END PART ONE
AN: I'm sorry it's another cliff-hanger! But you should have the next chapter within a week (the quarantine has given me more time to write, and be sure to stay safe out there). Just to notify those of you who started reading this very early on, I do go back and edit previous chapters (nothing on plot, just grammar and dialogue). Thanks as always to TheSteelShadow for looking this over, and thanks so much to you guys for the response! So, questions (sorry if these get redundant lol, but I really appreciate it when you guys take the time to answer them): How was the pacing for this chapter/the battle with the Empress in general? Do you think it makes sense to end part one here after the battle? How were the Fentons' characterizations for their interaction with Danny now that they know?