A.N.: Hello and welcome. This, my dear friends, is my first ever Danny Phantom fan fiction! Hooray!Please be open minded to this plot idea but don't be hesitant on giving me advice or concern on how I represent the characters or my word flow, etc.
Also...is there a D.P. beta out there who wouldn't mind being assigned to this story?
Oh right!
DISCLAIMER:I do not own any of Butch Hartman's creations. However, Diana, Fromagio, Henry and other character not introduced in the show is owned by ME! And no other. Please be courteous and ask me before stealing. :ahem:
Thank you.
And enjoy!
Salvation
Penny-Chan
Prolouge
Green sparks lit the sky with firework displays. But this was no celebration. Forest animals ran about in frenzied confusion, hiked up into a panicky daze by the dashing lights up ahead. There was screaming and battle cries, alien zaps and sizzles of electric energy. A war.
There was a sudden explosion of white and something was falling, cutting the atmosphere, no longer screaming but causing an ear splitting whistle as the weight plummeted to the earth like a comet. It hit the ground and the animals hopped a foot high by the cataclysmic impact. Trees swayed and pinecones plopped to the pine needle floor.
All was silent.
Green streaks cut the blue pallet, hidden behind clouds, traveling at supersonic speed, a velocity unfathomable by any living creature.
The insanity brought on by alien terror dissipated and the animals, quivering, went off on their businesses or scurried back to their warm homes.
While others, a brave bunch of squirrels or curious deer, sniffed in caution, staring at a bizarre bleeding figure. The forest sensed something not of this earthly plane and knew not to get too close.
A buzz grew noticeable but it wasn't enough for the animals to flee. The sound soon grew in intensity and in one split instant the buzz snapped to a 'shaziiiiiiiing!' and two white rings formed around the body, traveling in both directions across the length of the figure.
When the rings disappeared so did the sense of strangeness. The figure had changed. Black hair and a broken spirit, a being these animals had come across before. A young deer, courting around a youngster, stepped boldly into the clearing and closer to the boy. She sniffed, leaned down, and nipped at the white material slowly growing red. No movement, the human lay face down in the soft carpet of grass and dirt, hardly breathing.
When the others saw this, their courage heightened and several more deer, chipmunks, even a fox, stepped closer, making a curious ring around the child. Waiting and watching…bystanders at an accident… tilting their heads in a clinical manner, wondering if there was any more life in the blood that was spilling across the fallen leaves.
"Where is he?" Sam whispered, looking through a pair of binoculars and scanning over the horizon. It had been hours since that pack of ghosts had chased Danny off into the distance.
It was such a weird occurrence to have so many ghosts in one sitting. They didn't seem the kind to join a group. And being not the ones Danny Phantom had fought before (not even Skulker or the Box Ghost had been around) it had been a difficult battle with surprising attacks. One shaped much like a half-scorpion, half-man, had been able to spit ectoplasmic poison from his mouth; a concoction they found was able to burn through ghost skin.
They hadn't acted like a gang. More like a small band army, working in guerrilla tactics.
Sam was worried. She couldn't prove it but she had the impression that they had trained just for this, joined forces just to destroy the Ghost Boy.
The question was…why? What had Danny done?
Oh, where is he?
Tucker yawned and checked his watch, his mouth opening in teenage horror. "It's midnight! I'm past curfew! Oh man, my parents are going to kill me." He covered his eyes and groaned.
Sam glared at the sulking boy. "Danny's missing, probably having his butt kicked, and all you care about is your curfew?"
"Hey, come on Sam, I bet Danny's fine. It's not like he hasn't battled ghosts before." Tucker stood up and shut down his lap top, folding it under his arm. "We have a test in Lancer's class, remember? We can't stay out here waiting for him all night!"
Sam couldn't believe her ears. "Who cares about Lancer's class? Danny needs our help!"
"Uh hello? For one, I care because I'm failing. And two, we have no idea where he is!" Tucker waved his free arm in exasperation. "He can take care of himself."
Sam knew Tucker was worried but they were both too tired from the ghost battle that had lasted into long hours of the night!—to end the arguing.
They were still arguing when headlights pinpointed them. Car doors opened. "Sam? Tucker?"
That ended the argument. Sam gasped, "It's the Fentons!"
Tucker moaned when he saw the other two vehicles parking behind the GAV, "And our parents."
"Oh no, they joined forces to look for us!"
Tucker shut his eyes and grumbled, "Everybody seems to be doing that lately."
"What are we going to do?" Sam hissed, frantically trying to think up a story for Danny's disappearance.
The horde of parents swarmed in.
"Tucker Foley! I thought you understood last night that if we caught you after curfew again you'd be grounded for an eternity!" Mr. Foley grabbed his son by the ear, ignoring the boy's girlish cries of pain.
"Ow! Dad, but—OW! You don't--!"
Sam gulped, wondering what her punishment would be. Last time she had been forced to wear a flower print dress. Her mom and dad were conniving and creative. Her future looked bleak by the fire in their eyes. "Samantha, I cannot believe that you are disobeying our rules again!"
"Young lady, this will be the last time you see the light of day!"
"Uh, but Mom, Dad, I….uh, we can explain…" They forcefully grabbed her arm, choosing to ignore her poor attempt at speaking, and dragged her towards their car, fingers piercing and strong like talons. There was no escape. Sam was at a loss. Should she rebel? What were they going to say when the Fentons asked—
"Where's Danny?" Mrs. Fenton pulled back her jump suit hood and worry started to fog in past the parental anger.
"Uh…" Sam and Tucker eloquently answered.
Jack Fenton swung on them, wagging an overlarge ghost gun. "He was with you. So tell us, where is my son now!" The teens flinched when he accidentally tripped a button and a hot blast of glowing goop bulleted out of his gun's gaping barrel.
Tucker started stuttering. Sam's mind was quickly formulating a story. It was a stretch but what else could she say? Who knew where or when Danny would fly back in?
If he would at all…
"Um…we didn't want to worry you!" She blurted. Things grew silent, waiting. Tucker stared at her in bewilderment. "Um, yeah…we…Tucker and I thought we could handle it…w-we…Danny got attacked!"
Oh, smooth, Sam, really smooth.
The Fentons freaked. "What!"
"Yeah, by this pack of…" Was this a good idea? "Ghosts." She sighed out the word.
"Ghosts! My boy got attacked by ghosts?" Maddie pulled back her hood and whipped out her own ecto-gun, a little slimmer in size.
Jack grew furious. "When? When did those mangy ghosts attack him? Tell me!"
This time Sam was stuttering.
"A…"Tucker sighed, "A few hours ago. We lost him. We-we don't know where he is. They chased him that way." He pointed in the probable direction and prayed he was right.
"Come on, Maddie." Mr. Fenton growled and cocked his weapon. "We need to save our son."
Madeline followed her husband into the Fenton RV, saying, "But why would they attack Danny?"
"They must have known that to get to us," Jack pounded his chest, "the great Fenton ghost hunters!—they would first have to get to our boy. And they won't get away with that." With a harsh twist, he started the engine.
Mrs. Fenton nodded, her features set with determination and the need for vengeance. But as she slammed the door closed and buckled her seatbelt, her motherly heart swelled in fear.
Sam and Tucker watched them race off. They glanced at each other but their gazes were broken when their parents pushed them into the separate vehicles.
Mothers and fathers spoke of grounding while their children looked out the window and wondered if their friend would return alive.
He dreamed.
He was but only particles, weightless and barely held together. One gust of wind and there was a terrifying threat of being blown apart and scattered across the world. But he felt no fear.
In a blissful wave of joy and lazy contentment, he spread out his arms and dipped his head back, doing a flip and then corkscrewing up another few altitudes. He then relaxed all the muscles in his body, if he had any, and allowed the weak hold of gravity to pull him down.
Falling, falling…he would stop the plummet soon and do another roll…maybe dive and graze his stomach along grass…
His eyes popped open in realization.
He sure wasn't particles anymore.
He held up a hand, could no longer see right through it, and his dream self knew this was terribly, terribly bad.
He screamed.
Gravity was stronger now, it wouldn't let go, it wouldn't slow down, and he was falling, falling, going faster and faster, to his death, to a bone-splattering hit on stone and concrete and …he….would…DIE!
He woke up.
And he was dying.
The boy managed to moan and then could not make any more sound, hiccupping on air as cold fire filled his body and pulled apart his skin.
Choking on sobs, he dug his fingers into soft, forgiving grass and concentrated on the burning tears searing his cheeks, but not on the pain…oh, not on the pain…it would go away soon…it would…
It did. But it took a long, agonizing time.
He floated then, once again. He didn't slip back into dreams.
A sigh whispered past his dry and chapped lips. Not wanting to but having to, he opened his eyes. His head pounded and swum sickenly. Grass stalks and leaves and trees and...hooves…twisted and stretched and changed color before finally resettling back to reality.
It took a slow, miserly effort before he dazedly grasped that a deer was standing in front of him. There was a dull fascination within his tired heart and he relished in the musky, pine scent coming off of the beautiful creature. He cherished this rare moment, not daring to breathe.
Something on the other side of him (it felt like a paw of a puppy) placed weight on his back and he screamed in agony, arching.
On the edges of his torture filled brain, he heard the scuttle of nature reverting back into the shadows. The deer was gone when he managed to relax on his back and calm his shattered breathing. He was disappointed.
His tears slowly dried as he stared unseeing at the overhanging balcony of branches, slices of morning dawn creating pink and yellow patterns along the wildlife. In this peace, he grew antsy, knowing that by the thirst in his throat and the hunger in his belly, he would have to get up soon. That and his wounds desperately needed dressing.
His neck aching, he looked over his surroundings, fighting down panic when he had no clue where the heck he was. But that was okay, he had been in woods before…of course, his mom had had to rescue him later on…and she had done all the survival stuff afterwards…and he had been able to walk then…
His mind was starting to dip into a doze and he shook himself awake. This was going to hurt, but he needed water first and foremost. How long had he been out here?
He took a deep breath, paused, let it out, took another one, and then finally pushed himself up into a sitting position. The explosion of pain and the stretching of sliced skin was torturous. He nearly fell back over but in determination, he swallowed back the anguish and got to his feet, wobbling, teetering, holding his side, waving an arm, finding a tree trunk, leaning against it, panting, sweating…bleeding.
But hey! He was up!
"Way to…go…" he smiled and let out a long exhale. Now for some walking.
Two steps. Okay.
One ste—nope—gravity won.
He fell. And boy! Did that hurt.
He fought against crying, feeling like a baby but pouting still on the fact that he had to start all over!
"Ah man, this s-sucks."
Okay…let's do it again.
This sure was fun.
He had fallen down too many times to count. His entire body was quaking and trembling and he was tired, he was thirsty, he wanted to sleep, he needed water…
Keep walking, a couple more steps, get as far as you can go before you fall again, before gravity wins again, STUPID GRAVITY! Go, go, go, no!
Bam.
Face plant, tasting blood, tasting salt, can't see, so tired…get walking! Run, run a little faster, you can do it, go faster, hurry, you'll find a stream or something, there's gotta be, there's gotta be a river, there's gotta be someone in this stupid forest that had a pepsi or something…
"AGH!" Fell again. He couldn't do this anymore, not anymore, he was so tired, just a nap, a little nap, and then he would get going, he would try again, he would get water and then walk home, walk home to his nice warm bed, his parents will be mad, he had missed curfew, he was grounded he bet, Sam and Tucker, were they okay? Were they in trouble? He felt dizzy, really dizzy, and his stomach was rolling, his belly was cramping up, his throat was parched but not it was stinging and now he didn't feel so good…
He scrambled to his knees, held his abdomen, and threw up.
You pushed yourself too hard, ya idiot. Pushed too hard…
His head wearily was lifted up when a gun shot rumbled the skies. Leaves twitched, birds twittered, and the forest shook with fear. But he was overjoyed. Gun shots, hunter, it was a hunter, there was someone here, and they could help, they would have water, or a pepsi, that would be good too…
He didn't remember getting up. And he didn't remember wiping his mouth. He did remember the ongoing stampede of crumbling thoughts in his head, still going, not finding rest. He did remember feeling a distancing from the pain. I'm going to pass out. Hurry, hurry. But he didn't remember the decision to turn right or left or to go through that clump of trees or that bundle of bushes.
It was all instinct, and instinct rocked!
He stumbled into a clearing, there was a lawn chair, a forgotten novel lying spine up on the seat, and there was a little fire, dying, emitting a thin trickle of sweet-smelling smoke.
All he cared about was the cooler.
He did remember the tears as he walked, fell to his knees, and then crawled over to the red square with the white lid.
His fumbling nincompoop fingers; they couldn't get a grasp on the indented part of the lid where he could lift it, get to the water inside. "Please, please, please," he was subconsciously chanting. The soft skin of the pads of his hands was being reopened by the rough surface of the cooler's plastic and blood was spilling out over the sides.
He didn't care. OPEN!
He got it, he slipped, the lid bumped his hand and it hurt but he was inside! He pushed the lid back and stuck his hands into the melting ice. It stung, oh, how it stung. But it felt so good.
It was a big cooler so he was able to lower his head inside and dunk his face into the freezing ice water. The frigid beer bottles and soda cans was metallic and sharp against the balls of his cheeks. He sucked in the liquid. His throat throbbed. His body pulsed with that cold fire. Gasping and sobbing, he drank.
Someone yelled.
He flung up, adrenaline seized his heart, and the muscle skipped a beat.
He wearily realized that he had stolen. This wasn't his cooler, his ice water. No, he was in big trouble.
Dread plummeted in his cramping belly, a feeling well known to children around the world. The boy held up his hands, ready to plead, beg for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He couldn't think of anything else to say.
The hunter in plaid, a five o'clock shadow covering his rough, tanned skin (why shave in the woods?), lowered his rifle and blinked owlishly at the teenage boy huddling back against a tree.
His anger cooled by the sight of the broken child. "Hey, kid, it's okay. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you."
The boy swallowed and lowered his hands, too tired to keep them up. "I-I'm sorry…I was thirsty…I didn't think…"
"No, no!" The hunter in plaid cooed. He slowly dropped his gun and knelt down on one knee. "It's okay, really. I thought you were a bear or something, you know? Can't be too careful." He chuckled, just trying to console the fear in the kid's eyes. It worked. The boy relaxed by his Santa Claus laugh.
Feeling like he was trying to coax a scared pup, the hunter in plaid kept his voice low and steady, "Now, hey…what's your name? What...what happened to you?"
The boy's eyelids had fallen half mast and he didn't seem to understand. Slowly, the child looked down at himself as if seeing his body's condition for the first time. "I…was fighting…" he slurred, sounding a little awed.
"Who were you fighting? Local punks?" The hunter in plaid playfully punched the air.
A corner of his lip twitched."Y-yeah…wait, no…no…new ones…I'd never seen them before." The teen leaned his head back against the tree. He chuckled, weak and soft. "I think I lost."
The hunter in plaid smiled. "Yeah, think you lost Round One bucko. But let's hope you don't have to do Round Two." His smile broadened and he held out a hand, "The name's Henry. Henry Stiles."
Out of propriety, the boy did the same and Henry gently shook the trembling palm. "M-my name's…Danny." Danny grinned, like it was a personal achievement that he had remembered.
Henry stood up and walked over to him, whistling by the sight of his wounds. "Who Nelly, those jerks sure did a number on you. Why don't I fix ya up? Then you'll be all cleaned up and nice when we find your parents. Do you live around here?"
Danny scrunched up his brows, "That depends…where is here?"
Henry clicked his tongue, "Hmm, you're in Payette kiddo, Payette national forest." By Danny's expression, he added, "You're in Idaho."
That got him thinking. Rather comically, his eyes bugged out and Danny coughed on air. "I-Idaho?"
"Yeah." This wasn't good. "Where do ya live Danny?"
"I-I live in Amity Park…i-in Oregon."
"Well, shoot, you're pretty far from home but at least you're not in Canada or anything. Right?"
Danny dumbly nodded. "I guess." He groaned, "Ah man, they chased me farther than I thought. My parents are going to have a cow."
Henry shook his head, "I'm a father too kid, grandfather also. I think they're more worried sick than angry. They sure will have a cow when they get a look at you though…but in a good way" He assured. Danny didn't look convinced. "Well, anyways, we'll figure out how to get you home. There's a cute town not far from here, they should have phone service. Sorry, to say, my cabin doesn't. I'm roughin' it, you know?" Henry sniffed and clenched his muscles. "Being manly."
Danny laughed, wincing at the effort.
Henry scolded himself and whispered,"Now why don't I take you over there and get you some hot chocolate? Seems like you need it."
Danny's eyes lids drooped a little more, "Yeah…th-thank you." His shoulders sagged and he slid sideways. Henry Stiles caught him before he fell to the ground. The kid was unconscious, white as a sheet.
"Ah, you poor thing." The hunter in plaid sighed and picked up Danny bridal style, conscientious of his injuries. "Who could do such a thing?"
He started walking, thinking that he would get his stuff later. His cabin, a life long dream finally achieved, was just over the hill. He mumbled, shaking his head, "This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I wanted an adventure."
He grinned, "My wife is going to have a cow."
The shadows were alive and moving. It breathed and shifted with sighs.
"Did you poison him?" A deep, evil voice rumbled.
A grotesque man stepped out from the dark, a long scorpion tail twitching above his ear. His outline was glowing green. He knelt down to one knee. "Yes, sire. It should have already taken affect."
"For your sake, it had better."
The scorpion man stifled his shudder, nodded, and slid back into the shadows.
There was a terrifying lull before the voice spoke again. "Diana, my sweet, please come here."
By the command, in the same place the scorpion man had stood before, materialized a small girl. She wore a pretty red floral dress and was carrying a teddy bear. Her eyes were downcast and unseen by her brunette bangs. "Yes, sire, what is your wish?"
"Do not disguise yourself here. You are among comrades."
No one could see her grimace. Diana obeyed and her shoulders trembled, her entire body started to glow a brilliant white sheen. In the girl's place was a full grown woman, stunningly long brown locks and hazel eyes. She was now wearing a red robe, her hood pulled back. The bear was gone. Her face was devoid of all emotion. "What is your wish?" She repeated.
"Ah, there's my little spy. And how is the enemy?"
"They know of what you've done. The Ghost Child's parents are out to look for him and they will send recruits to protect them on their search."
Diana knew the master was smiling by the increased sense of evil in the dark. "Well, we shall have to stop by and say hello. And what of the boy?"
"He is no longer a threat to us, do you not agree? The poison will run its course."
The shadows squirmed by her tone and choice of words. The master only laughed. Diana managed not to flinch. "I do love your fire, my sweet. Now go. And tell me any news."
"Yes…sire."
She disappeared in a glow of white light, pure and clean.
"Fromagio." The darkness quivered. A man took Diana's place, his face covered by a mask in the shape of a fox; he was holding a bow, an arrow already cocked in the string. He did not bend down or even tip his head like the ones before.
"Yes?"
"You shall follow her. Be sure that she doesn't get into any…trouble."
The man saluted in a mocking manner. "As you wish."
Fromagio began to melt and from the gelatinous goop, stepped out a sleek red fox. His long bushy tail flitted around like fire. He walked serenely away, being devoured by the dark.
The shadows moaned.
A.N.: Betas? Is there a beta in the house who loves Danny Phantom? Please let me know! Oh, and I hope you all loved the prolouge. See you soon!
