~Invisobang 2022~
Category: Halfa Fenton No One Knows AU
Chapter Trigger Warning: Temporary character death, Electrocution, Panic Attack, Bullying, reference to Past-Character Death, Claustrophobic enclosed space, Existential Crisis, Implied death-threats, a bit of Horror.
Original Idea from: peachdoxie
Chapter 1_ Spooky Scary Skells
So… Danny Fenton was just fourteen when his parents built a very strange machine… and he was an idiot.
Maddie and Jack Fenton had taught him and his sister Jasmine the lab safety protocols since they were in the cradle as lullabies.
He knew those rules better than the multiplication tables and he still, still, didn't follow them when it counted.
(In his defense, he kind of did. He had checked that the plug was unplugged, he had fully put on the white-and-black hazmat suit and had brought with him the flashlight while exploring the insides of the Fenton Portal.
What he hadn't taken into account was that the emergency battery was still plugged in and that he was naturally clumsy.
That was how he half-died alone one September evening of his freshman year.)
Waking up after his last coherent thought had been "I didn't even get to see the Shuttle in person, I don't want to die!" wasn't something Danny would have believed it could be possible. He had fully expected his last breath to be the one he had let out in the wail of terror and anguish at being electrocuted to death, but, apparently, he had been wrong.
Breathing shakily, Danny tried to check the response from all his extremities, starting with his fingers, then his toes, wrists, ankles, elbows, knees, shoulders, hips, neck and jaw.
Even if slowly, everything moved correctly through the tingling of leftover electricity, so the boy tried to rise on (at least) on his elbows to lift his squished face from the ground and remove the hood and goggles from it. The skin under them felt tender and he needed the least pressure on it as possible.
The feat felt herculean, but after so long that he lost track of time, Danny managed it, dropping the gadgets on the floor.
…But wait, hadn't the goggles been black with bluish tinted lens? Why were they now white with green glass?
With great effort Danny sat on his haunches and picked up the hood with the goggles, squinting at them as if they could provide him all the answers…
But now that he looked down on his gloved hands, they were white and his hazmat suit black with white accents. However, that couldn't be possible, he had asked his dad to make his suit white with black accents to mimic the astronauts' spacesuits, this was all wrong!
Danny let out a shaky breath: this was too uncanny, for all he knew he should be dead, not just feeling tingly and with an inverted-palette wardrobe.
But, what if… he was dead?
That couldn't be possible, right? He was still breathing, he could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the texture of the hazmat suit against his skin.
A dead man couldn't do any of that, could he?
Danny gulped, feeling sick, as a whisper made itself notice in the back of his mind: corpses couldn't do any of that, yes, but what about ghosts?
His parents' papers hadn't ever mentioned something like that, but they said that ectoplasm reacted to the emotions of the sentient beings in the surroundings and sometimes they could mimic some patterns and behaviors, but what did that mean for Danny?
Was he really Danny, then?
Trying not to hyperventilate (or simulate such an action), the teen turned so fast towards the Portal that he felt dizzy. Ectoplasm was swirling violently in the previously empty space (probably reacting to Danny's emotions, a little voice suggested him), but there was nothing else left behind, so he hadn't dropped his body…?
(Oh, God, he wasn't possessing his corpse, was he? Please, anything but that.)
Danny was getting worked up too quickly, this was bound to be a really bad panic attack if he didn't manage to make himself slow down, but since he was without aid or distracting outside stimuli, his breath became too short to get enough oxygen for his brain and he passed out.
~OoO~
Danny woke up with a gasp when something cold touched his forehead and he jackknifed up, breathing hard, taking in his surroundings.
He was on the couch of the living room and Jazz was standing beside him with a wet rag in hand, blinking at him in surprise.
His hazmat suit was hanging on the back of a chair and was white-and-black again.
The tingling of his limbs wasn't there and his heartbeat didn't sound as deafening as it had been before.
Had this been only a nightmare then?
– Jazz… what happ'n'd? – Danny croaked, feeling his throat close up in dryness.
(Or was it just raw from screaming?)
– Mom and dad found you passed out before the Portal in the basement, they're checking the equipment to see if it malfunctioned. You don't have visible signs of injuries, so they felt safe enough to let me be the one looking after you. – The older girl gently dropped the wet rag on the top of his raven hair and turned to the table to pick up a glass of water that she handed him. As Danny gratefully drank the contents, she asked worried, – What's the last thing you remember?
Danny put down the now empty glass and closed his eyes, shuddering at the images printed on the back of his eyelids. He opened them again, preferring to stare at his normal human hands. – I went to check the Portal. You know how mom and dad sometimes overlook what's right in front of them? – He flickered his gaze up and found his sister nodding. – I unplugged everything and put on the suit before checking, but I must have triggered something outside, because I saw a green flash before fainting. – He left out the part he had probably dreamed while he was unconscious.
It had been the shock, right? There weren't any other explanations.
Jazz sighed in relief and retrieved the glass. – We found you on the floor in front of the Portal, so it was just the shockwave that threw you on the ground, knocking you out. – Her tone shifted from glad to scolding. – You were extremely lucky, next time you want to help, do it with someone nearby that can instantly administer you the first aid! What if you had been inside when the Portal opened?
Danny's breath hitched and his fists squeezed in distress, as he curled his knees against his chest, in an effort to ward off the terror at those words. Because he had lied.
He had been inside the Portal.
– I-I know Jazz, you don't have to make me imagine it! – The teen tried to scowl despondently, hoping that his act would appear convincing.
The redhead sighed in exasperation and unhappiness. – I care about you little brother, it's my job description to be overbearing so that you don't get hurt. – She picked up the rag on his hair and ruffled it since it was already in range.
Danny faked a huff, but didn't pull away, grateful for the anchoring touch.
No, it had only been a hallucination caused by the bump on his head.
It had to be it.
~OoO~
It wasn't it.
In the following week Danny felt his body rearrange (even if during the fact he hadn't understood what the sensation was or meant) and bizarre things happened around and to him.
His grip on objects varied from too strong (shattering them) to too weak (dropping and then shattering them).
He tripped over nothing and, more often than not, clothing slipped away from him.
(After a close call with his pants in front of Paulina and Sam, Danny had resorted to using his father's Ecto-line as a belt because it was the strongest thread in the house… and thankfully it worked.)
Sometimes he even managed to avoid Dash and his cronies when they were searching for him, and they just bypassed him as if he hadn't been standing beside them!
However, in the end his luck ran out.
After the bullies had trashed Danny's latest locker again, the school assigned him the previously perpetually unused #724, which his friends kindly informed him that it was cursed.
(Was this some kind of petty retaliation? Just because Danny had to change his locker four times since the start of school, which had been going for a little more than a month?
But it wasn't his fault! The bullies just loved to trash his belongings and the fastest way to do it was to break into the place holding them while he was in class!
If the door got damaged in the process, it was just the cherry on the cake.)
And cursed it was: after a test where Danny had accidentally scored higher than Dash, the quarterback decided that the usual treatment wouldn't be enough and cornered him with his pals at the end of the school.
They formed a wall of beefy brain-farted football players around the skinny noodle-limbed teen and after emptying the cursed locker, sans the mirror (since it was bolted to the metal), they stuffed the boy inside and taped shut its door with so much duct tape that it would have been a miracle to come out in less than an hour.
(If anyone could get out from the inside at all, that is.)
Danny's muscles had just enough strength to rip wet paper, there was no way he could get out on his own.
(Probably even Dash would have had problems in this situation, so the Fenton boy felt no shame in his shortcomings.)
His only hope would be Sam and Tucker, but, as Danny contemplated the hallway through the slits of the locker, he remembered that they had gotten out early, since they didn't have class in the last period.
The cherry on the shitty cake? His phone was on the ground among his scattered belongings, so he couldn't call anyone for help.
It would take an hour for Jazz to notice that something wasn't right, then call him, then his friends to check if he was with them since he obviously couldn't answer. After she'd have to contact the school, then send either a professor or the janitor to check the buildings and who knew how they would do their rounds?
Yeah, Danny estimated to spend inside that cramped and claustrophobic locker at least two hours.
The teen sighed, trying to adjust his position in order to keep the shelves from pushing themselves into his ribs. At least those morons had moved them to make him fit inside the cubicle better… they still dug into his shoulder blades where they had left them, though.
And not to mention the mirror and its frame that seemed intent on leaving a permanent brand on the skin of his back.
Danny wasn't sure if one could develop bruises from prolonged contact with several blunt but digging corners or the outcome would result in numerous blisters… He would have preferred the former, since they were annoying but healed faster (and were less painful) than the latter, which would need more tending to.
After the nth adjustment, the teen gave up with a frustrated huff that turned into a chocked whimper because he hit a bruise on a corner. He couldn't be too loud, though, otherwise he would give any lingering jock the satisfaction of knowing he was in pain.
However, despite being as quiet as he could, someone had heard Danny.
– Hey buster, you good? – A sudden voice echoing in the metallic space of the locker called him, making him startle and be unable to bite back a pained yelp.
Was this a new method of torture bullying, or was this just a newbie who didn't know better and wanted to genuinely help?
– Not gonna lie, I've been inside better lockers than this one. In middle school they were larger and I could fit in better. …Or maybe I was just shorter. – Danny wheezed what normally would have been a hum but, given the cramped space and the small air reserve, the action was a tad difficult.
– Given how the American system likes to standardize the school spaces while not keeping in mind the grades, I'm afraid that you were just smaller, bub. – The nasal high-pitched masculine voice of the other told him sympathetically, making him almost believe that he wasn't one of the jocks.
(After all, he had never heard him among the football team, so he really wasn't one of them.)
– Eh, I've just hit puberty, I'll have my growing spurt any month now. – Danny couldn't avoid quipping back half-sarcastically half-playfully, earning a snort from the listener.
– I know what you mean. I still remember those days, wishing to grow taller to overtop my bullies. – The other sighed. – Well, now it's too late for me. What about you? Do you know how to lockpick? – The voice, maybe belonging to a short either upperclassman or teacher assistant given what he had said, asked, making Danny blink.
– Well, I was taught by my mother, but in this case it wouldn't do much, you know? Can't you just open it from your side? – He frowned, jostling a bit his torso to try and look through the slits to see the other.
– Ah, no, I can't from my side, sorry. I'm stuck as much as you are. – The other said sheepishly and self-deprecatory.
– Oh. That's rough buddy, sorry, I didn't realize. – Danny apologized and made a quick mental count of how much it had been since he had been stuffed inside the locker. It had been at least 15 minutes, so the other had to be already shut in an adjacent cabinet for longer. – Can you lockpick? Maybe your locker is free from the duct tape!
There was a pause and when the voice spoke up again Danny shivered for how cold it was. – …What duct tape?
– The one my bullies used to keep shut my locker? … Didn't you hear them do that from yours? – Danny frowned, confused.
Maybe the other had been unconscious while that had happened, he realized in a horrifying epiphany. They had been too rough with his fellow target!
– I'm afraid no, buster, but tell me more. – Why was the other getting this worked up? After all he had been closed inside a locker (unconscious!) way longer than him!
– I'm Danny, by the way. What's your name? – The teen tried to divert the attention, attempting to know his fellow bullied peer.
– Oh, right, how rude of me. I'm Sidney Poindexter, nice to meet you despite the circumstances. – The other, Sidney, seemed to calm down a bit, turning pleasant again. It had worked!
…But wait, hadn't he heard that name already?
– Don't worry, I heard that bonding through traumatic experiences makes the relationship stronger or something? – Jazz's lecture on that matter was a bit fuzzy in his brain at the moment, but whatever. – Say, I know I heard your name somewhere, which homeroom are you from?
– I don't think you'll know his name since he passed away long time ago, but you probably know about me because of the locker you're currently inside, bub. – Sidney said with sad mirth. – It was the one where I died in fifty years ago.
– …Wait, you're that student! My friends said that this locker was cursed because of its last owner, but no one knew why! – Danny gulped, eyes darting around with a new realization of what those metal confines had meant for the other boy, never mind what he could be. – Oh shit, I'm sorry, that was super insensitive! I didn't mean to intrude in your locker.
– Don't worry Danny, it's not like you wanted to be stuffed inside and be taped shut! How are you holding out? – Sidney, an apparently dead boy talking, asked, worried.
Who was the other really? How was Danny able to hear from him anyway?
…Were his parents right, after all? Did ghost actually exist?
– I think I'm having a claustrophobic breakdown? – He answered with an edge of hysteria. – Are you… – he gulped, – are you a ghost? – He whispered.
– Indeed I am, bub. You're not going mental, I assure you. How about we get you out of there first, then you can have your existence crisis where you're safer and not at risk to join me in the Great Beyond, uhm? – Sidney sounded surprisingly cheerful for someone who was dead from being bullied, but maybe it was the spite talking.
Danny felt suddenly his back cold from where it was in contact with the glass of the mirror and he shuddered. The air must have become so cold that his breath condensed before him, then he felt a light push that had him tumble tea over kettle on the ground among his belongings.
Luckily, he stopped before he could hit the other side of the hallway and laid sprawled like a starfish on the dirty pavement, still dizzy and aching from being cramped in that confined place.
It took the teen few minutes inhaling big and slow gulps of hair to settle, but when he finally did, his sight focused on the transparent and monochrome silhouette of a skinny (taller than him) boy.
Danny blinked a couple of times, before raising on his elbows and addressing the ghost. – Is that you Sidney?
– Right on the money, bub! Sorry if I couldn't help you earlier, but my mirror has to be triggered to let me access to this side… And I'm not even all the way here. – He gestured to himself. – From what I was taught, ghosts with cores are fully corporeal in the material world. This is more like an astral projection.
– Oh. I have no idea what that means, though, sorry. – Danny had no qualms to admit that since he looked like a stereotypical nerd from the '50s and usually his type enjoyed explaining things.
– It's when someone ejects their consciousness into an incorporeal shape depicting their likeness and it can be more or less able to interact with the material plane! – As predicted, Sidney was more than eager to explain. – It's like giving up the ghost without actually dying… for alive people, that is. – He turned towards the locker and glared at the tape keeping it shut. – If you could look through my mirror, you could probably see my actual ectoplasmic body still on the other side, where my Casper High is. – He gestured.
Shakingly, Danny got up and more or less collapsed against his locker because his legs still felt half-asleep and full of imaginary ants. Painstakingly, he started to try to peel off the duct tape: his fellow bully target (even in death) had helped him, so now it was time to repay the favor.
His frustration mounted when he realized that it was the industrial kind of tape. Had his bullies really intended to kill him?! Or they were so brain-farted that they weren't able to realize the consequences of their actions?!
Danny took his frustration on the tape and pulled with all his might, imagining to at least get few inches despite his meager strength, but he found himself pirouetting uncontrollably then fall on his ass with a lot more weight in his hand than what he was expecting.
The teen blinked at his fist and found all the duct tape hanging awkwardly, while the surface of the locker was completely undamaged (or at least, still as corroded as it had been before the incident). – What…?! – He breathed, eyes bulging in surprise.
The ghost seemed to be in a similar state, but he recovered quicker. – That was applied intangibility! Only ectoplasmic beings can do that in the material world, but you're also human! – Sidney gasped in epiphany. – This means that you're a halfa! – He turned excitedly to Danny. – You're half-alive and half-dead! Do you know how rare that is, bub? The last known occurrence had been twenty years ago and the gap before had been of centuries! – He nerded out.
The Fenton boy just gaped in response, overwhelmed, and still trying to process both what had happened and the load of information that had just been dropped on him. However, one thing did stick to him: he was half-dead.
– Sidney, w-wait, wait a minute. Are you telling me that I really… really died? That it hadn't been only a dream? – Danny pleaded, stuttering and trying to hang on denial.
– Oh. You didn't know. I'm sorry champ. – Sympathy colored the monochrome boy's face. – You're half-ghost, a halfa. Or, at least that's how the books on the other side call your kind. – Poindexter amended. – They, you have the traits of both species. You still function as a normal human in this form, but you also have all the stereotypical abilities of what folklore narrated of ghosts. Intangibility, as you demonstrated, – he gestured to the locker and the tape, – invisibility, flight and being able to mess with electronics. One book mentioned the ability of emitting blasts of supercharged ectoplasm and another spoke of force-shields? – Sidney tilted his head, pensive.
– …There's no cure? – Danny chocked back the tears. The hallway was deserted, the only two souls present were him and Sidney, but, somehow, he didn't feel safe enough to let out any vulnerability in a place that had held only pain in the past month and half.
Poindexter seemed to realize this (like recognized like, after all) and didn't answer, but gently ushered Danny to collect his belonging and get out of the school after throwing the tape in the trash.
After all, how could he explain how he had gotten out from that situation?
(Plus, the ghost had explained that his astral projection could be visible only to ecto-sensitive people, so no one would have been able to see him to supply his claims.)
Danny quietly made way to the FentonWorks, then to his room and huddled to a corner, wrapping himself with a star pattered blanket and hugging himself as the spirit looked at him worriedly but understandingly.
– S-so? The cure? – Danny knew he was pathetic, but he was finally in his safe place and the other had demonstrated until now that he was nothing if empathetic.
– Danny, there's no cure for death. – He told him quietly. – If there was, I would have tried to find it long time ago, after all.
– That was what I was afraid of. – He murmured back, letting go of the dam he had put against his tears.
They fell like a silent waterfall, Danny had never been a loud crier, he had learned to be quiet after the first Christmas he could ever remember, when his parents were more busy discussing about Santa than noticing that the turkey had been reanimated and like a demented zombie velociraptor, it had started stalking them, so he had to hide with Jazz, because both were still too young to fight it off.
(The following year had been another case, because when it happened again, his sister had been ready with a broom. However, the habit of crying silently had stuck since then.)
Sidney demonstrated that, even if theoretically he should have been awkward for the lack of social interaction because of his social outcast status, he was good at comforting people.
Danny's breakdown lasted less than the time he had spent inside the locker and, despite the exhaustion for the experience, a weight had lifted from his guts.
– Got all out, bub? – Sidney patted halfway through his shoulder since he wasn't that corporeal.
– For now, at least… Yeah. – Danny sniffed, drying his eyes on the blanket. – Thanks for keeping me company Syd. – He murmured, then did a double take at the realization of blurting out a nickname out of nowhere. – Ugh, sorry, I didn't even ask if I could call you that, I'm such a mess! – He buried his face in his hands, embarrassed.
Poindexter laughed in genuine amusement. There wasn't any malice and that made Danny relax a bit. – I liked that a lot, man, please keep calling me that! The last person that called me that was my younger brother and I never got to see him in the past fifty years, so it's nostalgic! – That startled the halfa, but the monochrome spirit quickly reassured him. – You don't have to worry about talking to me about death, bub. I got over it long time ago, so it's not as painful as it's for you. But! Word of advice: if you ever meet a ghost, don't ever ask them how they died. It's rude and terribly invasive. That information can only be offered. – The expired nerd lectured, but Danny didn't mind, since it could mean (half) life or (full) death for him, if he did something wrong.
He had already learned the hard way in the lab.
– Anything else that will help me? – The halfa moved from the corner to his bed, still with his blanket cape around the shoulders, and patted the spot beside him to invite the spirit.
Sidney seemed to light up at the gesture and sat, before launching into a rant about ghost-etiquette and the likes. It was a lot and he would have to take notes, but this was his new (half) life and he had to lie in his coffin.
~OoO~
Danny ended bringing out a brand-new notebook exclusively for the topic because there were too many concepts to remember them by heart and, contrary to many school subjects, remembering this would mean life or (total) death.
Poindexter was also so enthusiastic in his lecture that sometimes he resembled Danny while the latter talked about new stars or comets, so the newly minted "halfa" ended enjoying the black-and-white boy's ramble.
The nerd warned him that several of this information were most likely rumors, like the ability to create complete darkness* or even duplicate oneself. Danny playfully shot back that it was better than having no ideas at all, so anything to work on would be a fair start.
As they talked, the light outside gradually turned orange and as soon as the ghost noticed, he startled and became whiter than he already was.
– What's the matter? – Danny immediately asked, alarmed by the change of mood.
– I have to get back to my lair, my curfew is coming soon and… displeasing things occurred to me when I missed it last time. – The monochrome boy shuddered in remembrance, making the half-alive one grimace in sympathy and worry.
– Go then. We can always meet up tomorrow at school, right? I mean, the entrance of your lair is in my locker. – Danny smirked a little at the end, gaining a chuckle from his new friend like he had been trying to do despite his inner insecurity about their new "bond".
– Of course! You just have to call my name and apply a note on my mirror if I can't be there in time. The gate should stay open until I see the message. On my side I still have to attend classes, so our schedules won't always match. – Sidney floated towards the window.
– Oof, and here I thought that death would at least spare you from things like school! – He raised his arms in an overdramatic gesture of surrender. That made the nerd laugh harder. Success!
– Some are luckier that others, I'm afraid, buster! I'll tell you more tomorrow, make sure to offer me an egg-cream next time, though, today I'm parched and your hospitality severely lacked! – The boy from "the past" quipped playfully, before waving and zooming out of the window.
As soon as the other was out of sight, Danny stopped waving in answer and just… sat there on his bed, trying to process the evening.
He had met a ghost.
Ghosts were real!
And he was one (half) of them!
Thankfully this epiphany didn't send him into a panic attack like the previous one had done, but left him a bit lost and floundering. What was he supposed to do now?
He had let a ghost (astral projection, his inner Syd corrected scoldingly) into his house, in his room, and he had allowed him to see him vulnerable. And from what his mother told him and Jazz, ghosts (and above all poltergeists) were supposed to be malicious!
Sidney Poindexter had been anything but that, though.
He had behaved just like a fellow bullied civil boy would have done for a peer in need. He had even supplied him information about his new… condition? Was that even the right word for what he was? Or was it just a new "state of being"?
Danny wasn't sure of it, but he had time to explore this new side of him.
~OoO~
Apparently, it took two other days and fleeing from Dash and his cronies to finally realize how he had been able to evade them before (and become clumsier than usual): invisibility and intangibility.
Now that he recognized the different feelings for both powers, when he was alone or with Sidney he attempted to trigger them voluntarily with various degrees of success.
Danny had considered telling Sam and Tucker about this "development", but nowadays all the trio talked about while together was how to get back to the A-Listers because their "reign of terror" was starting to get out of hand and the teachers either were ignorant or compliant with the abuse.
And Danny completely agreed! The only reason the football players were leaving his locker alone now was that it hadn't gotten damaged from the duct tape after it had been freed and that fact had intimidated the jocks into thinking that it was really cursed (which wasn't far from the truth since it was haunted).
Thus, every moment with his friends was spent planning and discussing the various methods to force the A-Listers to back off, making impossible for Danny to find time for telling them about his new freaky-half.
They had enough on their plate already between the school "war" and their own private issues (which Danny still wasn't sure what were, but he certainly didn't want to pry).
At last, they settled on a prank and organized the materials (mysteriously provided by Sam), how to craft the final products (mainly courtesy of Tucker) then smuggle them into their assigned place (thanks to Danny's skills inherited from his mother).
Sidney even agreed to help, since the planned moment for the prank didn't coincide with one of his classes! This was bound to be epic!
Everything was ready by the following Friday evening, when game night and its ruckus had ended. To complete the task, it took them an hour since the whole football team and the rest of the A-Listers were the designed "victims", plus the materials were cumbersome.
Once everything was in place, the trio took off to celebrate with a late dinner at the Nasty Burger. This was bound to be good…
~OoO~
Dash Baxter was living the best life: he was the school team quarterback, he had henchmen admirers and the "A-Listers" was the coolest social group. He even got to wail jail-free at the nerds to get rid of his misplaced aggression! Nothing could possibly go wrong!
Or at least, that had been his mentality when he arrived in the locker's hallway along with his friends. And it lasted until Kwan opened his cabinet.
The black-haired boy let out a high-pitched scream, making everyone in the surroundings startle, then cautiously lean forward to see what the matter was.
Inside the locker, neatly dressed and folded to fit the small space, Mickey's skeleton looked back at them with his empty sockets, loosely holding a board in his bony hands.
"You forgot me here, please don't litter afterwards."
– What the heck is this?! – Kwan exclaimed, looking genuinely terrified.
And who could blame him? Just before the start of weekend, they had stuffed Mickey in his locker…
– I don't know man, just- Don't touch it! – The guy who played Left Tackle in the team exclaimed when another leaned forward to poke at the skeleton. – I need the timetable schedule of the teachers, we need to find Mr. Lancer! – He turned to his own locker to pick up the timetable, but he ended screaming as Kwan had done when he came face to face with another skeleton.
This one was from a member of the D&D club and his board said: "What have I ever done to you to deserve this?"
What did Mr. Lancer say that one time while doing mystery novels? Two was a coincide, but three was a pattern?
Dash pointed to the team Safety player and barked. – You, check your locker!
Taken aback, the guy hesitantly obeyed and (since he had somewhat expected it) only startled at the sight of his occupied cabinet, which sported the skeletal remains of the Goth he liked to torment with his own message: "Am I Goth and spooky enough for you now?"
– Everyone, open your darn lockers! – The quarterback (hiding his nerves) ordered his teammates, who gulped in trepidation but obliged.
Dressed up haired skeletons of their favorite preys were waiting for them with different messages on each board and the boys were starting to look scared. Friday evening the cabinets had been untouched and no one had been left in the school, since the team had played until a late hour and then snuck into the hallway because they had forgot something in them.
– What's this noise all about? – Paulina's familiar voice felt like a lifeline in this ocean of uneasiness and Dash latched onto it as he turned to face her. She was in company of Starr and Valerie and the three of them were looking in confusion at the football team as they walked forward.
– There're dead people in here! – The Cornerback guy screeched, still pale for his locker surprise.
– Impossible, mì papa didn't receive any report about any accident or missing person. – The Latina girl scoffed without even looking at them as she faced her own locker, probably thinking it was a prank from a fellow A-Lister. Her police lieutenant of a father was always updated with the latest facts (usually gossip), so she was more likely to trust him over them.
– But it's true! – Another player pleaded, backing away from his locker. Those bones seemed to gleam under the fluorescent lights and they were too eerie.
– Try that again in a million years, Ben. – Valerie laughed at them, unimpressed.
– Yeah, we won't fall for- KYAAAAAAAAAAA! – Starr scrambled back at the feminine dressed skeleton in her locker with a sign bearing "Now I'm finally slimmer than you, wasn't that what you wanted?"
Paulina and Valerie mirrored the blonde perfectly (the latter's scream less high pitched than the former's one) when they met their own "gifts".
"Every action has consequences." Warned Grey's sign, while the Goth skele-girl resembling Manson had greeted Sanchez with "Now that you got from me what you asked for, are you finally happy Paulina?"
– DASH, DO SOMETHING! – His best female friend almost scrambled on the blond, holding for dear life since her skeleton contrary to the others was also illuminated with blacklight from the sides and so its (her?) grin gleamed in the dark of the cubicle.
The action had the effect of making the two of them hit Dash's still closed locker that mysteriously unlocked at the hit. The click went unnoticed until the metal door started to vibrate under their back and the duo leaped back to get away from it as it started to violently shake.
The door smashed open revealing Fenton's duct taped down skeleton with the same outfit he had when they had closed him into the cursed locker.
The sign board slipped from its grip and stopped neatly before the quarterback and the cheerleader, giving them the chance of reading: "This would have happened to me if no one had saved me. Use that fart of a brain of yours before you become a murder" before a stronger tremor baited their attention.
They looked up at the now glowing green bones of the raven-haired boy as they slowly raised from their slumped position and stretched an arm forward to try and reach them, clacking all the way, as the rest of the skeletons did the same and tried to climb out of the lockers.
WHAT THE FRICKING HOLY-
Every witness (composed only by A-Lister) fled from the hallway and out of the school, screaming their head off and looking behind to se if they were being chased.
They all gathered on the steps in front of the school where other students stopped to investigate what was happening.
It took the teachers and the principal coming out from inside to gain a semblance of order since the A-Listers were in hysterics and everyone else was either invested in the drama or had been infected by the terror of the unknown. Because whatever had been haunting the locker 724 had spread and now all the hallway was involved, the "cool students" explained.
William Edward Lancer being the no-nonsense man he was, offered to go and see. While the teens were scared to tears, they also got worried for the man since it was one of their only decent teachers and pleaded him not to go (and to send Ms. Tetslaff instead).
The bald teacher stormed onside like a man on a mission and an anxious silence descended on the crowd until he re-emerged unharmed and unruffled.
Almost unimpressed.
He loudly called for the A-Listers to repeat what they had witnessed and after a fervent narration, the vice-principal frown turned into a suspicious glare after he had glanced at his watch.
– If I recall things correctly today on the first hour your science class had scheduled a test, Mr. Baxter. Are you sure that this event happened and this is not an attempt to skip the test? – Mr. Lancer demanded seriously.
– I don't have enough imagination to even attempt this, Mr. Lancer, sir! You saw my creative writing paper, I swear there're skeletons in our lockers! – The blond almost jumped to the man's face to plead his case. The rest of the A-Listers nodded frantically in confirmation, making the teacher sigh and make a gesture of "come along".
Trepidant, the student body followed, whispering warily about the event.
The scene they came to had had to be anticlimactic for the teacher, because the hallway was deserted and the doors of the lockers were neatly closed with no sign of the horrors that had transpired.
(That however fueled the tension of the more sensible bullies, who were ready for the jack to jump out of the box.)
– So? Where is this "horde of skeletons" you mentioned? – The man crossed his arms, impatiently.
Rage mounted in Dash at the quip, so he stomped to his locker and opened it violently. – Are you kidding? What is this for you?! – Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
– A collection of teddy bears? I didn't expect you to be the type, but I'm not here to judge you for that. – He put his hands on his hips. –What I'm disappointed in is this attempt to sabotage the school and tests, Mr. Baxter, so you and your friends will serve detention for the whole week when you don't have the football and cheerleaders training. This way our… miracle worker of a coach won't have anything to say about it, won't he? – He said the last part with distaste, as if he had just bitten into a mouthful of raisins.
Dash swerved around to look at his locker and gaped: it was exactly how he had left it Friday evening! Three neatly arranged custom-made football player and cheerleaders teddy bears included!
Shame and rage warred inside of him before indignation prevailed. – Those are presents! I needed somewhere to hide them instead of my house, or they would have found them! – Not the whole truth, but that would save his face with his peers. – Never mind that, the skeleton was here! It was taped down inside! – He gestured to the inner surfaces and moved aside to let Lancer take a look.
The man sighed exasperated but looked, then turned to glare unimpressed at the blond. – There is no sign of tape, Mr. Baxter. If you keep on insisting, I will prolong your detention to two weeks.
– But he was there! He wanted to kill me! – Dash pressed, starting to feel desperate.
– Two weeks, Mr. Baxter, and that's final. No more of this insensate prank or this will end as a mark on your registry. – The vice-principal sentenced and turned to the assembly of students. – Classes have already been disrupted long enough, grab your books and proceed with the schedule!
The teenagers quickly dispersed, knowing better than argue with the English teacher, while Dash and the rest of the A-Listers looked at each other helplessly.
It had been only them when the horror show had happened after all, so it was their word against the facts, since there was no skeleton to be found.
At the sound of rusty hinges grate, the quarterback turned and met the blue eyes of Fenturd, who had just closed his cursed locker.
The little shit smirked at him, threw a piece sign across his chest and simply… wasn't there anymore. Dash did a double take and looked around the crowd, feeling suddenly terrified. Where had he gone? Had he imagined it? Had he imagined the whole lot?
Maybe it was better if he and his boys took a vacation from wailing at the nerds, he didn't need another hallucination…
* Learned about this from the Wikia since this was a B*tch Fartman Utube exclusive.
And that's a pity, because this has so much potential for both angst (darkness as a metaphor of evil, so Dan) and tactical advantage, since only Danny could see through it.
All of this not forgetting is name cool as heck: the Void.
And you know what? Maybe "my" Danny will get this, but not because of the author (derogatory)! :)
A/N. A huge thank you to my artist RedFoxtail26, your art is terrific and I enjoyed working with you so much! (ﾉOヮO)ﾉ*.
Also, a shout out for all the Phellow Big Authors in the IB server for helping/supporting/bearing with me and waiting further than the posting time due to the extension granted to me by the Mods!
Without you this fic wouldn't have been possible and next year I'll be more prepared to be on schedule! (๑•̀ㅂ•̀)و
Peachdoxie, it only took -lemme check- nine months (wow, like a whole pregnancy!) for the AU you came up with to see the light, but I hope it was worth the wait! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ
That being said, what do you think about my dumbass boi? I gave him an existential crisis and his friendship with Sidney will be a major plot point in the rest of the fic, so hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do, because he needs more ghost friends. 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜
I'm going to post next chapter tomorrow and I still don't have the title for it! HaLp!
*insert "Hold the pain Harold" meme*
…
Welp, type ya soon! ꒰( ｀꒳´)꒱