Another short one. Sorry.
On another subject, I was trying to figure out a logical timeline for the show, and realized that there isn't one. I've been trying to make one that will fit with when and how I've set this (junior year for the trio, Accident during the summer) and I think it only works if Prisoners of Love is set during October, not May.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Getting your comments fills me with joy!
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Chapter 103: Obligation
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It had become obvious that Danny and the others were no longer in Elysium. Painfully so.
Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were sitting in a... Actually, Jazz didn't know what to call this type of room. A sitting room? A waiting room? A reception room? It could have been called any of those, but the furniture was unremittingly Greek, and ghostly Greek at that. There weren't really chairs, but these reclining couches.
They were waiting here because, once the entire island of Elysium had been searched, there wasn't much that they could do. The three of them could manipulate ectoplasm enough to hover in place and sort of move around, but beyond that they weren't very useful. Not compared to ghosts who could cover much more ground, and could actually defend themselves against whoever had taken Danny.
Someone had to have taken Danny. He would never have left on his own.
They were all trying to distract themselves. Jazz herself was bent double over her book, trying to figure out how to use what was in it. Tucker was typing away at his PDA, and he had, somehow, managed to find a laptop, another phone, three very old looking desktops, a small satellite dish, and an antenna to plug into it. She suspected that he was trying to to jury rig them to detect Danny's energy. Sam was slouched down on one of the couches, glaring at a potted plant. Jazz didn't know what was up with that, but there was probably something going on there, too.
Jazz hated this. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It wasn't the first time she had to wait while Danny was off who-knows-where, injured, possibly, probably, in danger. But she was going to do her very best to make sure that it was the last.
Suddenly, Tucker dropped his PDA. That was a shock. Tucker never dropped his PDA.
"Are you okay?" asked Sam, pushing herself up into more of a sitting position.
"This isn't working," said Tucker.
Jazz bit her lip. "Well, it- If you're looking for Danny, none of that is really designed for that," she said, trying to be comforting.
"I know," said Tucker, looking down at his PDA. "That doesn't make it okay." Then he stood up, grabbing his PDA and putting it in his pocket. "I'm going to go talk to the Egyptians."
"I'll go with you," said Sam, hurriedly.
"Are you sure that's safe?" asked Jazz.
"Hey," said Tucker, his voice high and nervous, "Danny said that he's on good terms with the Egyptians, so..." Tucker shrugged. "It should be fine?"
"Tucker," said Jazz, trying to keep at least some of her stress out of her voice, "you do realize how long the 'Egyptian' culture lasted for, right? You realize that Danny is only on good terms with the Feathers, right?"
"I know that!" said Tucker. "I'm not an idiot. I study stuff. Especially stuff that is directly relevant to not getting brainwashed by my jerky past life or- or whatever Duulaman is to me."
"I wasn't- I didn't mean- Um." Jazz licked her lips, snapped her book closed, and stood up. "I'm coming too!"
"Great," said Tucker.
"Good to establish that," snarked Sam, shooting one last glare at the potted plant.
It didn't take too long to get directions to where the Egyptian ambassadors were staying. Everyone in the halls was busy, trying to either set up search parties or repair damage from the battle, but they recognized the three humans. No one begrudged them a few seconds and a pointed finger.
Interestingly, the Egyptians weren't idle either. One of them was standing outside their room, speaking (in Egyptian) into a telephone. Not a new telephone, either, or one of those 'GZ' steampunk-looking phones that tech-oriented ghosts sometimes had, but an incredibly old-fashioned one with a separate earpiece and mouthpiece. A second Egyptian ghost was holding up the contraption, with one of the jackals standing nearby, wearing a satellite (connected to the large, boxy phone with wires) on its head.
Jazz felt her mind stutter to a halt. Yes, she had seen weird things in the Ghost Zone, but this felt exceptionally weird for some reason.
"Um," said Tucker. "Hi?"
The ghosts jumped, startled, hanging in the air. "Great king!" exclaimed the one who had been speaking, dropping the receiver. He drifted eagerly forward, but stopped himself several feet from the trio. Behind him, the second ghost stumbled and dropped the phone.
"I- Um," said Tucker, staring at the contraption with some consternation. "What are you doing?"
"I was speaking on the telephone device!" said the ghost, smiling. "We learned of your love of technology, great king, and we have taken it upon ourselves to modernize."
"Cool," said Tucker. "So we were- I was wondering-"
It was at that point that Box Ghost hurtled down the hallway. He then seized the phone, pulling out the wires, and zoomed away at high speed, cackling loudly.
"You know," said Jazz, contemplatively, "I really should have known that would happen the moment I thought of that as boxy."
"That is the fourth one this week," said the Egyptian ghost, as the jackal growled and took off after the Box Ghost.
"We were wondering if you could help us find our friend," blurted out Tucker. "Danny. Phantom, I mean. He's missing."
The Egyptian blinked. "But of course, great king. We have been doing so." He blinked again, tipping his head to one side, and hummed. "But perhaps we could show you how you, yourself, could help. Your powers are very great. You need only unlock them."
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Clockwork's vision cleared without warning to his mixed relief and consternation. Relief, because he could see that Daniel was going to be fine (although he certainly wasn't at the moment), consternation, because, from what he could now see, much of the work that he and Frostbite had done on Daniel's core had been undone.
At the moment, there was little Clockwork could do, however. He had roped himself down with this obligation to Daniel's parents, and he had to carry it through.
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Issitoq received a new vision of the future, more terrible than any he had received before. It took him to the floor, clutching at his head. His subordinates crowded around him, trying to lend aid.
Horrible images flashed in front of his eyes. The citadel of the Observants burning, thrown down, brick by glowing brick, crushed under the feet of that thing. A crown of ice and silver sparking on snow-colored hair. A pack of green and black dogs following at the heels of abominations. Water and fire and frost, time itself shattering, coming under its rule. The Infinite Realms, warping and changing, unrecognizable, islands on islands, unnatural colors bleeding through the veil. No. No, this could not be allowed. Issitoq had an obligation, and would follow it to its bitter, bloody end.
