Mainliners. Monsters created by the evil of Carnate Island to commemorate those inmates executed by lethal injection. Like all their brethren, they were humanoid, but their small size and hunched posture reminded Danny of a frog. There were syringes filled with some glowing green liquid pierced into the creatures' backs and through their eyes. Their main method of attack was to yank one out and either throw it, or try to stab him with it.
Based on the lethal nature of all the other creatures, Danny assumed those needles were filled with whatever was used in the actual executions and, as such, were supposed to kill him instantly. He pulled one out of his arm with a sigh and dropped it onto the ground, before turning back to the squealing mainliner.
"Okay, do you even know that's not working?" he asked, a useless gesture since the creature was not intelligent. It responded by throwing another. Danny rolled his eyes and mimed shooting the creature with a gun. The ectoplasmic energy blast hit the thing full in the chest and knocked it backwards. A green gas rose from the body as the lethal poisons escaped, heralding the mainliner's death.
Danny looked around quickly to see if any others were going to appear. He had been walking along, minding his own business when one of the creatures had suddenly pulled itself up out of a nearby puddle and started attacking. While dealing with that, another one had appeared in the same manner behind him; that was when he learned that his ghost form apparently protected him from their poison-filled syringes. Those two had been followed by five others that came systematically out of the two puddles. He groaned as a squeal heralded the arrival of one behind him, and didn't even look around to blast it. After several minutes of silence, he resumed his trek.
He was getting used to the place. The marksmen were a bit of a problem if he was attacked by more than one and couldn't find any cover, but the slayers had proved relatively easy to defeat as long he kept moving. Of course, if he stopped, he was in danger of being impaled, and he was no mood to learn if his ghost form would protect him from that.
He had no idea how long he had been walking; it felt like an eternity. He had passed a burned down village some time ago, and that was the most exciting thing that had happened since he left the ocean behind. Until the mainliners showed up, that is. Now, he was forced to come to a stop at a very large chasm that stretched across the road.
"Oh, now what?" he yelled at no one. There was no bridge and it was too wide to jump. It extended as far as he could see in either direction, and it was too deep to simply climb down this side and back up the other.
"…You can give up," said the same breathless voice from earlier. Danny was suddenly aware of a mysterious green fog that crept up around him. It made breathing a laborious affair, and he stumbled backwards out of it.
"What are you?" he asked.
The green gas formed itself into the shape of man, more or less. He appeared to be bald, but that was the only feature it didn't take an effort to see. "Haight," the man said after a long wheeze. He made a slight, ironic bow and took a breath to continue. "Hermes Haight. …I was the executioner at Abbott before I…" He seemed to sneer, although it was hard to tell, and laughed sardonically. "…died…"
Finally, someone who was willing to talk! Danny took the barest step forward, as close as he was willing to get to the noxious fumes, and demanded, "What have you done with my family?"
"Me?" Haight gestured toward himself, the very picture of innocence. "I haven't done anything…This is Silver's game. I'm just…a player."
"What do you mean, 'game'?"
Rather than answer, Haight simply smirked. "…I liked how you took care of those mainliners, by the way. You have a real gift for killing…"
"I'm not a killer!" Danny informed him.
"…Not yet, perhaps. But you're still young." He turned and jumped into the chasm.
Danny rushed to edge and shouted, "I'm not a killer, and I'm never going to be!"
"We'll see," laughed Haight.
A rumbling noise effectively stopped the conversation, and Danny turned to see the ground being pushed up as something moved forward at a high speed beneath it. It was reminiscent of the cartoons that featured Bugs Bunny traveling to Acapulco, or wherever it was he was always trying find. The phenomenon knocked over several trees as it passed by or under them, one of which conveniently spanned the gap. The boy decided not wonder at his apparent good fortune and ran across before the burrower could attack him. He thought he heard Haight's breathless laugh, but it could have been his imagination.
A breeze sprang up to rustle the brush and fallen leaves, bringing with it the Voice from the Sky. I must confess to some confusion, it whispered.
"And what would that be?" Danny asked vaguely. He didn't bother to look around or stop walking.
What are you, niño
He thought about that for a while. In the end, he decided it couldn't hurt to tell the truth. "I'm half human and half ghost."
El interesa. Does that mean you're half dead?
He glared at nothing in particular as he answered dryly, "Pretty much." Now, he knew what Sam and Tucker must feel like whenever they tried to talk to him while he was invisible. It was a distinctly unnerving experience to speak with someone who wasn't there.
The breeze seemed to sigh. So young to be half dead. I wonder what the future will hold for you.
Danny stopped and looked around. "What are you talking about?"
An image appeared in the road before him of himself, in human mode, standing before a grave stone. He expected to see his own name on the stone; he had already figured he would become a full ghost when he died. He shrugged and walked closer.
It was Jazz's name on that stone. The date of death was about fifty years in the future. Danny paled at what El Fantasma was implying. Will you grow old and die one day? it asked, voicing the question he didn't want to think about. Or will you remain a pequeño muchacho forever?
He ran through the image, not caring where he was going as long as it was away. What a stupid thing to ask, he thought. Of course he would grow up! He had proof in his arch enemy Vlad Masters. Vlad had been half ghost for twenty years or so, and he was still aging as normal.
Danny stopped, out of breath, to laugh at himself. The voice was playing games with his mind, nothing more. He resolved not to pay attention to it next time and looked at his surroundings
He found himself in some kind of concrete building with broken, rusted gates at both ends. There was a fenced off area around what must have been the control panel for the gates. Nearby were some steel crates; on top of one and looking very out of place was an old 16mm movie projector. As though controlled by an invisible projectionist, the spools began to turn, and the flickering yellow image of a doctor was projected into the empty space before Danny. He a blood (the boy assumed it was blood) covered apron, rubber gloves, and a round reflector on his head, just like the stereotypic holdover from the early nineteen hundreds. The man looked himself over, glanced at his projector, then looked at Danny and nodded once.
"Ah, that's better!" he said in a jovial English accent. "You would not believe how difficult it can be to make these things work sometimes, especially when they keep getting destroyed by slayers. Annoying creatures. Now, where was I? Ah, yes! My name, my dear boy, is Dr. Killjoy. I trust you're enjoying your stay on our fine island." Danny opened his mouth to disagree, but Killjoy just kept talking.
"I must say, you're not quite as interesting as my last patient. Poor man. Multiple personalities, but I can say no more. Doctor/patient confidentiality and all that. Still, I trust you will prove an interesting challenge being half dead as you are. Tell me, my boy, do you often feel the need to play the hero? Does it alleviate those feelings of insecurity?"
Danny stared for a second or two until he realized Killjoy was actually waiting for a response this time. Then he stared for a few more seconds out of the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. "I don't have time for this," he said at last.
"A pity. So many of my patients resent my treatments at first, but I dare say they all come around in the end. Or they die. A shame really. The human body is far too fragile sometimes for the treatments the mind requires."
Danny inched around him, heading for the far exit. "Right. Look, I have to go save my family from a psychopathic disembodied voice, so if you'll just excuse me."
"Ah, yes. Darling Silver." Danny stopped and turned back in the hope that he may yet get some useful information. "One of my more fascinating case studies. Well, off you go, then. Oh, one last thing! Where is my head these days? You may find it prudent to make your way to my institute. It's just past Abbott; you can't miss it."
The film wound down, the light flickered out, and the doctor was gone. Danny stared at the place he had been standing in mild confusion. It wasn't Killjoy's appearance; he'd seen far stranger things. It was the "good" doctor's mannerisms: the way he stood, and the gestures he used. It reminded Danny of his friend Kat somehow. Then there was the fact that it was impossible to get a word in edgewise with the man. It was very unsettling to be involved in a conversation that was really just a monologue.
Back in the open air, Danny took a moment to look at the sky. A break in the clouds showed a more or less half moon on which the darker side was overpowering the light. Eerily fitting, somehow. Looking back down, he saw his parents standing in the middle of the road. "Oh, come on!" he yelled at the sky. "I'm not falling for it!"
They were still there. Danny sighed, clenched his fists, and prepared to walk right through them if necessary. He knew they weren't his real parents because they would have started yelling and trying to find their ghost hunting weapons at the sight of the Amity Park ghost boy, Danny Phantom. The fact that they continued to stand there was a dead giveaway.
Maybe he shouldn't use that particular term anymore…
"Danny," the image of his mother almost pleaded as he got closer, and he found himself paying attention in spite of his resolve. "You can't save us."
Suddenly, for a split second that seemed to slow into eternity, he saw his mother and father lying on the ground, surrounded by slayers. He couldn't help it; he shouted and lunged forward to save them. Then the moment was gone, leaving Danny to fall to his knees in mingled parts relief, rage, and despair. He narrowed his eyes and shouted to the sky, "I will save them!"
No response. Of course.
Grumbling to himself, he stood and looked around. There was road behind him, road ahead, and trees to either side. He climbed over one that had fallen into the road at some point. He was beginning to wonder if Silver, or El Fantasma, or whatever she called herself, had forgotten about him when a slight breeze attacked some nearby foliage.
Tell me, niño. Do you ever worry that you might cease to be human one day?
"I'm not listening to you," Danny announced.
I only wonder how a thing like you could live, she answered in a hurt "tone". Neither human nor ghost, but an unnatural melding of the two. As a ghost, you don't belong in the world of the living. But no human belongs in the world of the dead. You don't belong anywhere, do you?
If he was going to be completely honest with himself, the thought had crossed his mind. Where did a creature like him belong? Actually, it had crossed it mind more than once. He was a teenager; angst came with the territory. And unlike most normal teens, Danny wasn't entirely human anymore, which gave him better reason for it than most.
He growled under his breath. Silver was playing on his insecurities, things that only bothered him when he feeling particularly depressed. He wished Jazz were with him. He could always talk to her about these things. At least, now that she knew about him, he could. But failing that, at least he could take it out the slayers that had just come into view ahead.