Disclaimer: I don't own DP.
Thanks to the following awesome people for reviewing last time: Fear the Fuzzy Bear, Invader Johnny, no1ghoul, Derpidot, Glowing Loudly, Guest, Guest, Guest, Guest, Wrennie10, DPN2012, Osirus Mongua M, Lunar Adair, KnightOwl247, artemide68, ImpudentMiscenge, Syd, MugestuPipefox, daddyphannypack, Illusn, TheSmilingRose, OnlyProbably, BG224, The Omnissiah, OutOfThisUniverse, funtime Wolfe, Kiomori, Lady Galadriel9, Dp-Marvel94, and Werejaguar of Halloween Town! I really, really appreciate all of the notes and reviews and people who kept asking for this story to continue. I flail more about this amazing fandom in my Author's Note at the end, but I wanted to say here as well that it means a lot to receive your feedback, and that's also in part why I'm back and updating this story in this strange year of 2020. So thank you again!
I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
Beyond the Depths
Chapter 10: The Rotting Dock and Its Faulty Buoy
Human language came easy to the merboy.
Tucker found it odd just how much the creature understood without question. It left him, on occasion, uneasy—that such an unnatural being could have human characteristics. The mer's green eyes shined with emotion and intelligence, despite the sharp fangs in his mouth that gave even his most docile smile a demonic edge.
It made Tucker's face pull tight in disquiet at the thought of the Mer Massacres—that they had been predicated upon positioning the creatures as violently animalistic.
But this mer?
"Okay, man," Tucker was saying that afternoon. It was a sunny day, the sky bright without a single cloud—and the docks once again abandoned. The ocean waves crashed gently around the old pillars surrounding them.
He'd gotten the mer to sit back against one of the pillars, where water would still crash over his tail from the tide. He dried the merboy's wet, webbed hands with a towel, then tossing the towel around his shoulder. He fished his smart phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Now, this is a smart phone. Kinda like an external brain for the human race—it connects us all together. I can call people around the world, listen to music, search libraries—you name it."
The mer seemed fascinated by light and by Tucker's many technological gadgets. His big eyes widened as he held the smart phone like it was made of glass. He inspected the bright screen, then looked at Tucker expectantly, as if to say, Go on. Make it work.
Tucker adjusted his glasses, then began poking at the screen. "So, I know we're trying to teach you human language. But I created a program that'll listen to you when you speak in your own language. And it'll start logging sounds to translate, so that I can understand you better too."
Green eyes flickered back down to the screen. "Lis-ten?" came that soft, deep voice from his vocal cords. His 's' sounds were still slurred from his long fangs.
Tucker chilled in realization of how much the mer already knew. "Yeah," he said. "It'll listen to you. You okay if it listens to you?"
His head tilted slightly, calculating. And then he nodded. He tapped the screen, narrowing his eyes. He awkwardly tried to say a word he'd learned. "H-hello."
The screen on the phone brightened with Tucker's code. And then a smooth, female voice called out, "Translation: Hello. English language."
The mer startled slightly. And then he smiled a toothy smile, his whole face splitting in delight. He tapped the screen. He clicked at it several times, only for the phone screen to run code with an error sign.
Tucker laughed lightly. "Man, we gotta like—teach it your sounds first." He turned away, grabbing for his hammer as he worked to pull out old nails on a rotting board. "Kya, open books to transcribe the, uh, mer language. Prepare for transcription."
"Transcription ready," lightly responded the phone. "Language: mer."
"Okay," Tucker said, grunting a bit as he pulled out a nail. "Now, tough guy—what's the word for 'hello' in your language?"
The mer's dark tail swished in the tide. And then the gills upon his pale neck expanded, revealing fragile webbing, before he switched back to his regular oceanic vocal cords. He made a soft hum and a click.
"Translation: Hello," said the phone. "Mer language." And then it replayed the audio of the mer.
A black tail swished in the water in delight. Pale, webbed fingers tapped happily on the screen, as if to say, It can speak to me.
Tucker dropped old nails into a collection bag, pulling off a rotted board. "We just gotta teach it more words. And soon, it'll pick up on your alphabet and ways of speaking, and then it be able to help you find human words, when you don't know or can't say the one you want."
His eyes brightened with a great admiration. Humans were so smart, to be able to bridge such gaps.
"How about," Tucker added, "translate 'How are you?'"
The mer clicked again, several times.
And then the phone began to log the data, already on its merry way of attempting to piece together the intricate and unknown language of the merfolk.
The merboy, as it so happened, liked to talk. His clicks and soft laughs back to the phone and occasional huff were a pleasant background as Tucker worked away the afternoon. Eventually, the mer recognized that Tucker was repairing the dock. Out of a desire to help his newfound friend, he hoisted himself up with his strong arms and set the phone atop the dock. Then, he began to pull at the nails of an old board, still babbling away based on prompts from Tucker, his tail swishing against the tide.
The human boy looked at him in awe.
This being beside him was supposed to be violent and cruel, and yet at every turn, the mer challenged his beliefs. And despite the strength in his arms, the being's body was emaciated, down to an obvious shadow of his ribs.
Tucker hesitated. Then he reached over and grabbed the phone, which inspired the mer to look at him in surprise. "Hey man, you hungry? I got a sandwich and chips in my lunch bag. You know, like food?"
Sharp claws dug into the wood at the sound of the word food. The being turned to him in great want, a plea escaping him. The sunlight caught his white hair, giving him a haloed appearance. And his face scrunched into a desperate plea, even as he began to lower himself back into the ocean, taking a few old nails with him and dropping them into a trash bag.
It seemed he still had difficulty trying to say words with the letter f, as his fangs disrupted human language and gave him an odd slur. But he knew that word, food. "Ood," he begged, his voice in a strangle. "Yes."
Tucker's face tightened in protective worry. "Okay, yeah. Let's take a break, then. You look like you haven't eaten in forever." He suddenly hesitated. A minor fear entered into him. "Unless you haven't because you usually eat…uh, people?"
The boy's face suddenly hardened. A strange shame flushed his face, his fins flicking up. And then he huffed, crossing his arms. His lips pulled tight in an uncomfortable line, as if perhaps he had in fact thought about eating someone—and had chosen not to.
Tucker made a strangled noise. "Hey, I mean, I know you won't eat me, but I don't know what you will eat."
Cautious, green eyes slid to him.
"And judging by those fangs and claws," Tucker said, scratching his chin, "I know you gotta be a meat eater. You want to try a different kind of meat? I got a roast beef sandwich we could split."
The boy licked his lips and then whined helplessly. He didn't know what roast beef was, but he knew human food was delicious—and in some ways, even familiar.
Tucker's face split. He tossed his tools back up onto the warm sand, moving to his work supplies where his lunch was hidden out of the sun. "Yeah, you're gonna love it. It's gotta taste better than eating people, guaranteed."
And soon, two boys sat in the sand beneath the dock, a half of a thick roast beef sandwich in their hands. From a distance, they appeared as nothing more than two teenagers playing hooky. But the mer's webbed fingers tightened on soft bread in great curiosity, his black claws glimmering in the sun and his too-big eyes widening as he munched thoughtfully on the human food. His tail swished in the tides as they rose and crashed lightly upon him. His delicate gills on his neck had sealed shut, his white hair drying in the winds.
"Mmh." Happy tears bubbled in his eyes as he ate of the roast beef—delighted by the taste of meat and the softness of bread and whatever the crunchy green was. It wasn't seaweed, but…
"That's lettuce," Tucker piped up, his voice muffled. "Yeah, I know—it's green, and I said I hate green things, but you can't really taste it on a sandwich. And a sandwich isn't right without lettuce. It just isn't."
The mer glanced at him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Lett-uce?" he slurred, his cheek still full with food, his tenor voice light.
"That's right." Tucker leaned his elbow back against the sand, picking at his sandwich and sighing. "Man, I'm such a great teacher," he sighed happily. "Look at you, saying food words." He turned to his packs, where he'd hidden the last treasure the mer had raised from the ocean floor. It was a diamond earring some rich person had lost, inlaid in what looked to be white gold.
At this rate, he would have a small fortune before summer was over.
He looked over at the mer, curious. "Too bad I don't know your name." Then he pulled at his phone, narrowing his gaze at the fluxing code, which was still mapping mer clicks and noises to intelligible meanings. "I wonder if this thing can handle translating based on the individual sounds yet. Wanna try it?"
Beside him, the mer set his sandwich on his lap. His hair had dried fully and was beginning to tickle his face. He scratched at his throat, his dark claws catching the light dangerously. He hesitated, then made a soft clicking noise.
And the phone suddenly activated. "Mer language," it said lightly. "Translation: Phantom."
Samantha Manson found herself standing before the grand desk of Vladimir Masters once more. She held a binder of reports to her chest, her fingers tight. "Mr. Masters?"
The man was staring at his computer, typing a response to what looked like an important government official, with the seal of the United Nations glowing from the top of the screen. "Ah, our dedicated ethics intern." His voice was smooth and distracted with a diminutive tone, as if he already knew that her request was far below his usual fare of work. "What is your social justice concern of the day, Miss Manson?"
She cleared her throat, then set her binder down on his desk, opening it to the printed history of Buoy 23. "I've identified an issue with one of our main buoys located in the fishing district. I think it might have a faulty circuit that needs to be replaced. So, I was wondering if you'd accept this proposal requesting funds to fix it with a new solar panel."
That did it.
Vlad slid curious eyes to her, searching her face. "My, my," he said. His hands fell from the keyboard. "What is this? The indomitable Samantha Manson, advocating for human protections?"
Her purple lips downturned. She waved to her work tag. "As the ethics intern, that means I'm looking out for everyone. And if a buoy isn't working right, then that's a major breach in our security, right?"
His gaze narrowed. "Yes," he murmured. He looked down at the report, briefly thumbing through the pages. "Yes, it is. How often has Buoy 23 failed?"
"In the last week, at least once or twice a day. Mrs. Fenton thinks it might be interference from a physical object like a boat, but that still means a disruption of the network."
A pause. More flipping of pages beneath a critical eye.
Vlad looked up then, saying dryly, "You wouldn't require a solar panel if it's a simple physical interference. How about you drive down to Buoy 23 first and inspect it yourself? One thing about business you need to learn, Miss Manson, is that one should never expend more resources than necessary."
"Oh, really?" She angled a brow and crossed her arms. She was standing in one of the most opulent offices in Amity Park. "Couldn't tell."
He gave her a look, but then he brushed aside the insult. "I'll overlook your tone in exchange for your cooperation in this matter," he said lightly. He managed a tight smile, his voice turning with a pout. "As you know, human safety is my top priority."
Sam narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, I know."
The CEO huffed lightly, then waved her along. "I'll look forward to your report, Miss Manson. Now do please go—I've much to do."
Back at the docks, the tide began to fall away, leaving more of Phantom's tail exposed to the air. His fins curled unsteadily as he looked down at himself, recalling that he had legs somewhere within him. He patted the sand around him, hesitant. If he remained outside of the water for much longer, his tail would full dry out, and his scales would begin to itch.
And then he would transform back to a human, just as he had done on the ship with the human girl name Sam.
His heart crunched at the memory of her, and of the dark tendrils of poison, the oil and explosion of the ship—
Tucker snapped his fingers in his face. "Hey, man? You okay?"
Phantom started, blinking as he slowly looked back at his new human friend. His throat tightened up hard. He could feel his eyes begin to burn in the way of human tears—that his body desired to cry at the thought of Sam and her pretty face and the way she'd half-dragged him to safety, only to die upon the ship he'd helped to capture…
He looked down, the wind blowing against him and ruffling his fins and white hair. He stretched out his webbed fingers, inspecting how oddly different and yet similar he was to Tucker.
He wondered what Tucker would do if he transformed...if it would be safe to do it, even though Clockwork had told him to never transform again.
Phantom moved to speak, hesitantly attempting to roll his tongue and re-engage human vocal cords.
And then suddenly, his ear perked at incoming sound. His eyes widened, and he began to flail forward, back into the water. The warm ocean sunk around him. He slipped back into the water, his dark claws sinking into the wet sand for leverage, his body shooting off as a black dart.
Tucker huffed in consternation. "Hey, wait a—" He lowered the remaining few bites of his sandwich to his lap. "Why did you go? Was it something I said?" Then he raised the sandwich back to his mouth, stuffing it in quickly as he stood up, narrowing his eyes at the coast line.
It was then that he recognized the sound of a small boat engine. Off in the distance, a small Global Oceanic Defense vessel was storming across the waters.
Tucker backstepped in surprise, a dart of fear slipping into him at even the sight. Although G.O.D. protected the coasts, he knew Phantom would be a high-priority target. And he'd just been teaching their target how to eat and speak like a human.
"Oh, shit," he whispered. He shakily began to grab for his hammer and bag of nails, pretending to look busy. "Gotta hide from police on land and sea, right. I'm not hanging around merfolk. Nope, not a bit. Just a dude doing a stupid summer job, and if I found an earring or two around this dock? Hey, I found it, right?"
But as the vessel powered down and came in closer, it was no heavily armored soldier steering it. Instead, it was a slight rail of a young woman, who wore all-black and a bright purple life jacket. And she seemed to have difficulty shutting down the main engine of the boat, enough to curse at it loudly.
The sound inspired Tucker to look back in consternation.
The woman winced as the front of the boat bumped lightly into the old dock, shaking it. She killed the engine entirely, pulling up her sunglasses to give him a pleading look. "Okay," she called out to him. "I've never tried to steer a boat before, and it looks smooth out here, but it really isn't. So I don't want to hear anything about how women can't drive."
Tucker's jaw dropped the more he looked at her.
She was far from the usual G.O.D. soldier, down to even the way she wore heavy eyeliner and a miniskirt with dark tights. Tucker moved to hold his hammer under his arm, then rubbed his eyes and looked at her again.
Nope. This beautiful woman was still in front of him.
He pulled off his hat, allowing his short dreads to hang around him. He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. He managed a handsome, if not tight smile. "If you're not used to boats, why are you working for the Global Oceanic Defense?"
The young woman—surely she had to be around his age—awkwardly reached over the boat to grab onto one of the anchors atop the rotting dock. "I'm an ethics intern," she greeted breathlessly. "I gotta check a buoy. And I swear, I can drive a car. Like, I can even drive stick-shift. But…" Her pale cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. "My dad never let me steer a boat, so."
He raised a brow like that. "The name's Tucker," he said back, leaning against a pillar and flashing another signature smile. "Tucker Foley. Or T.F., as in Too Fine."
The woman didn't even blink, awkwardly trying to shore off some computer equipment onto the ledge of the dock, shakily trying to not overturn the boat. "Okay, Too Fine," she said distractedly. "Just give me, like, 10 minutes to check some systems. And I'll be out of your way."
He face-faulted playfully. "What, ethics interns don't have names?"
"It's Sam." She turned to eye him then, measuring him up. "Is this dock even safe to sit on?"
Tucker puffed up in pride. "The first five boards are, yeah. Replaced them myself for Dalv Construction Company. The indoors are more the name of the game for me, but hey, gotta pay for college somehow, right?"
She awkwardly hauled herself up onto the deck, huffing. Her short, black hair fanned around her pale cheeks. "College. Yeah. Supposed to start that soon too."
This woman, Sam, didn't seem so interested in flirting. Her voice was distracted, her fingers trembling. She fairly crawled from the boat onto the dock, but her face was determined.
Tucker's brows knitted. "You, uh, afraid of water?"
Combat boots hung off the dock. She huffed, shakily running her hand through her hair, then grabbing for her mini-computer. "Just a bit."
"But you work for G.O.D."
Her voice turned to a halted deadpan. "Long story there, Too Fine." And then she raised the computer, narrowing her eyes to the horizon. Buoy 23 was a tall, white structure with a blinking blue light in the distance. It did not seem to be obstructed by any physical objects.
And weirdly, as she held up the computer, the wireless diagnostics noted that it was now functioning exactly as it should.
But the data history showed that it had dropped its signal even within the last few minutes.
Sam's brows furrowed.
The boy called up to her, "You can just call me Tucker, you know." He winced lightly. "Too Fine sounds kinda stupid when you say it like that."
She lowered her screen and turned to him, quirking up a thin, dark brow. The stressed lines of her face softened, and she managed a little, amused smile. "Okay, Tucker then."
But Tucker—for as beautiful as this Ethics Intern was—realized that she spelled trouble for a particular friend of his, and even her association with G.O.D. made him a bit weary the more he thought about it. He narrowed his green eyes playfully and asked, "So what's all this about having to check systems?" He raised up his hammer and began to pull nails out from a rotten side board, several lengths away from Sam. "Dalv Construction's got me rebuilding this trash heap for minimum wage. Didn't think G.O.D. would care about a place like this."
The woman hummed. Her combat boots swung lightly off the edge of the dock. "Got a buoy acting up, can't figure out why."
"Yeah? What's it—ah, what's it doing?"
She hesitated, reading through the outputs. Her dark brows crinkling. "The signal cuts in and out. Which means our radar and defense systems go dark in this area when it does that. It's probably not safe for you to be working on this dock until we get it figured out."
Tucker hesitated. Realizing he had to play a part—he was good at playing parts—he hummed lightly. "Why wouldn't it be safe? Thought they killed all those merpeople, like, forever ago, you know? I remember watching the video. They burned out the whole clan."
Sam's combat boots stopped swinging.
A silence stretched between them before she said awkwardly, "Look, it's just not safe."
"You telling me they're still out there?"
She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. "I didn't say that. Just that it's not safe."
Tucker quirked a brow, looking up at her. "Okay, so they killed all the merfolk keeping us out of the oceans, but I can't go in the oceans because they're worried about merfolk still attacking." He tapped his chest, voice rising in a concerned passion. "I got a right to know, working in this water. Being a tax payer and all."
(Saying he was a tax payer made him feel more like an adult than an 18-year-old pretending to be one.)
Sam inhaled deeply, expression tight. "Look, this buoy doesn't just protect against merfolk. But it can also register other large sea animals, like sharks. You want a shark to come up and bite you while you're working here? This buoy can send out signals that only large sea animals can register."
He paused at that. He'd actually not thought about other potential threats. "Oh." He managed a nervous laugh, suddenly backing away. "Man, did I tell you how much I enjoy being in one piece, because, oof, sharks." He suddenly stared down at the water up to his hips in suspicion. "Kinda thought the merfolk ate them all."
"Well, they didn't." Sam swiped her hand on the screen, then awkwardly brushed back her hair. She turned to stare at him in pain. "Look, I'm sorry to snap. I'm just an intern and trying to work my way up so I can…help with more things. And if I can figure out what's wrong with this buoy, it'll go a long way for me." But she looked distressed. "I just gotta figure out how to, um, fix some circuits or a solar panel maybe."
Tucker searched her eyes. He hesitated, then asked, "Do you even know the operating system they use for their tech? The programming language for their software?"
She blinked. "Uh." And she looked down at the screen. "I don't know, it's the one with the kiwi as their symbol. And the programming language is in...English? I don't know what these symbols are."
He scratched his chin. He realized that, as a programmer, he could probably take Sam's computer and the buoy itself apart and put it back together. He could probably even diagnose why it's working.
And he could probably, likely, introduce a back door that would help Phantom stay off their radar.
Which meant he would still be earning riches and protecting a friend.
Tucker said, voice hesitant, "It might be hard to believe, but—ah—I actually know a lot about computers. Started building them when I was about 6. The Kiwi OS is one that a lot of businesses use, and I even played IT for my dad's company to ramp up my college resume. I could help you." He quirked a brow. "But, uh, you know I'm trying really hard to get into MIT for college. A recommendation from the Global Oceanic Defense would look pretty good."
Sam searched his eyes. She hesitated for a time, then said, face in a pull, "Okay, Tucker, right? If you can figure it out, then…I can definitely pull for a recommendation from Vlad Masters, the CEO. Maybe he'd even hire you, and you could do what you really like this summer instead of rebuild piers."
Tucker smiled. It was a wide smile, and he felt an odd delight in him—
—but also a wariness.
He wasn't quite sure what he was getting himself into, in the name of protecting his black-finned friend named Phantom and his own revenue stream of sunken treasures.
But it seemed like the benefits outweighed the risks.
For now.
A/N: Oh gosh, okay y'all. I have been so scatter-brained in the last year with things. I lost some joy for DP's main characters and moved a lot of my time to AO3 and other fandoms, or to more heavily focusing on my fave DP rarepair of Dark Gray. But DP is just such a fun universe too that in re-watching it, it revived my love for Tucker, Sam, and Danny as well.
I know this has been a crazy-hard year, with world destabilization, economic depressions, intense battles for justice, and COVID-19. I hope all of you are staying safe and healthy during this time. And I really appreciate all of you who read this fic and continued to comment, even when I went radio-silent for so long. I did read each comment that came in, and it made me feel like there was still a community worth staying for too—that it's not just the show that I like, but that honestly, DP fandom is fantastic too. Y'all are supportive and fun and creative, and this has always been an incredibly encouraging space to be in. It's really a privilege to be a part of that, and I don't want to leave it.
So along with resurrecting this fic, I'd also like to try finishing out some of my other older DP fics I've got in-progress. I don't really have timelines for any of this work or what story even still interests people, lol? But you can always private message me here or reach out to my DP tumblr (thelightningstreak) or my other main tumblr blog (the-lightning-strikes again), which links to my works for Voltron, Witcher, and Blood of Zeus on AO3 and is probably the one I'm most active on for the moment.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really, really like writing Tucker here and hope you all like how this plot is evolving. I'd love to hear your feedback in a review, whether it's thoughts, constructive criticisms, or ideas/requests for what you'd like to see! Thanks again!