Posting a little earlier than usual, because I don't know if I'll get a chance until late tomorrow. I've put another couple of chapters of my original work, In the Water, up on AO3 under the username Marsalias, since last week, if you're interested.
Thank you for the birthday wishes!
Jeptwin: I read and appreciate all reviews, even if I don't always respond. Sometimes my social energy is too out of whack :'). Yeah, even old, powerful, ghosts like Clockwork are pretty easy to understand once you figure out what they want, even if their methods for getting it are really convoluted.
neokid93: Nephthys always knows more than she's letting on. Except when she doesn't. Then she'll pretend she does.
ShadowPillow: Essentially! I'm glad that came across well. We know that Danny will get back to his original timeline, and that that's the 'right' or 'true' one that ends up coming true, but the characters don't.
BreannaAiedail: They BOTH need snuggles. If you want to see some snuggles, may I shamelessly self-promote my fic, Grandfather Clocks? It is almost exclusively Clockwork and Danny fluff.
fictionaddiction1: Yo, thanks. You'll probably run into a lot of plot holes if you do that, though. :')
Insomniac Dormouse: Yep, Nu (aka Sojourn) is a pretty cool dude. I never watched BH's video about him, but as soon as I heard about the concept I decided that he was Clockwork's bro.
Black Cat: Yeah. I guess you could say that this whole thing was a... grandfather paradox. *Flees*
17: I think Danny is, at this point, but I vibed hard with Jazz when I was first watching DP. I also really like Dani/Ellie because she happened to match up surprisingly well with one of my daydream-exclusive OCs.
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Chapter 182: The Coming Storm
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She had been a fortune-teller in life, a charlatan, if she was being honest. But she had wanted to be more. She had always wanted to be more. To be better. To have the powers she pretended to.
Death had given her that, at least in part. So, she had been recruited by the Observants. There were some parts of the deal she didn't like, the body modification, for example, the forced conformity, for another, but her powers had grown tremendously since she had joined. They had been taught and trained, shaped and cultivated. She had to bow to the wishes of her seniors and superiors, but considering the infinite and eternal nature of the afterlife, she only had to be patient, and, someday, she, too, would number among those senior Observants.
At least, that was what she had thought until today.
She turned to her partner. Observants always went in twos, except for the foremost, Issitoq.
"I'm not doing this," she said.
"What?" he sounded far too surprised. "You have to! We don't have a choice."
There were other Observants around them, but none close enough or attentive enough to hear. They were all too focused on the debacle happening around Clockwork's tower.
"Actually, we do."
"The seniors-"
"If they didn't want us to have a choice, they would have made us take Stygian Oaths when we joined. They didn't."
She was vaguely aware that some several hundred years ago there had been a massive power shift inside the Observants' organization when the Ghost King of that time had forced the leadership to take oaths of noninterference, and the organization as a whole had gotten around that by promoting those who hadn't taken such oaths, and by using those who were obligated to obey the Observants in one form or another.
The oaths of newcomers, therefore, were not enforced by Stygian waters. It was part of a long-term plan to rebuild the power of the Observants. A plan, it was plain to see, even without divinatory powers, that was going to come to nothing.
She had died once. She didn't intend to die again.
"But... Clockwork..."
"Not my problem, and honestly, don't you think that was kind of a bad deal, to begin with?" She had never met Clockwork, but she had understood that much of the Observants' power derived from a bargain made with him. She'd known that the bargain was one-sided, and had felt rather uncomfortable about that when it had come up, but she hadn't really thought about it, didn't feel the need to do anything about it.
Well, considering what was happening, it looked like there wasn't a need to do anything about it.
"Look, I'm leaving no matter what. You can come with me, or not."
Her partner dithered for a moment, looking at the other Observants, and then at Clockwork's tower.
"Alright, I'm going with you."
They flew off, slowly, so as not to alert the other Observants.
"So," said her partner. "Seeing that we're leaving... I guess we don't have to worry about the old rules."
"I guess not."
"So, ah, what's your name?
She looked at him. It had been a while since anyone had asked her that. "You can call me Marie. And you?"
"Michel."
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They weren't the only Observants to defect. Dan snarled every time he saw one go, because each one was one more he would have to track down to destroy.
So far, the fight had been laughably one-sided. The more powerful senior Observants were hanging back, unwilling to actually face Dan. Or, he supposed, Clockwork. These lesser Observants barely knew what they were up against. Cannon fodder.
Whatever that old meddler was getting up to, they weren't going to stop it. Dan might try to disrupt the plan, when he figured out what it was, just to be contrary, just for that taste of retribution, but he wasn't about to let this trash have the satisfaction of even getting close.
They didn't deserve it. In another timeline the weak ones had stood by and let his family die while the strong ones ordered it done. None of them deserved mercy. None of them deserved forgiveness.
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This was a difficult fight, even for Nephthys.
Clockwork was older than her. Far, far, older, even should one not count his lives before he became a single entity. His first memories, as inchoate and chaotic as they were, were of the beginning of time itself. She, on the other hand, had been the first sentient thing to die and become a ghost. She barely remembered her life, such as it was. Nasty, brutal, short, and wet as it was. She couldn't even put her finger on what kind of animal she had been.
As a percentage, the gap wasn't nearly as wide as it had been five-thousand years ago, but more time was more time. That was time to fight, and train, and get used to his powers, and Nephthys still wasn't entirely comfortable with the powers she had inherited from Sojurn when he had resigned his position as an Ancient.
Yes, it had been hundreds of years. Yes, she'd made them her own. Yes, she could use them just fine. They still didn't feel quite the same as her other powers.
She was only able to keep up because Clockwork was currently operating under so many handicaps.
First, his madness. Nephthys knew that if he was in his right mind, he would be far more clever about how he was attacking.
Secondly, even though he was in an altered state, he didn't really want to hurt Nephthys. Yet. This was roughly the equivalent of a temper tantrum, so far. That wouldn't last, though.
Thirdly, by taking one of Clockwork's medallions, she had rendered herself immune to many of Clockwork's abilities.
Together, these put the two ghosts on more or less even footing.
Their battle was on the metaphorical and mental planes as much as the physical. They were Ancients. Both had been worshiped as gods. Both of them still were. They were the next best things to anthropomorphizations of Time and Death. They burned and reformed and warped space and time around each other. Potent energies swirled at their fingertips and flashed and flared like lightning storms across the Realms.
Soon. It had to be soon. She could not hold out for much longer. Clockwork had to send Daniel back soon.
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Astraea had been having a meeting with her cousin, Adrestia, on the green (that was, the lawn in the central courtyard) of Libra. It was a lunch meeting. The subject was locating the missing witnesses and victims- And, potentially, hunting down whoever was responsible.
But then there was a sound unlike Astraea had ever heard before. It was huge, and broken, rumbling and rolling through the air.
She reached out to Adrestia. "What is it?" she asked. "What do you see?"
"Lightning," said Adrestia. She sounded afraid. "It's lightning." She paused, and Astraea could hear her swallowing. "I think."
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"The current subject of debate," said Azalea, "is names. Specifically, how they are to be announced."
Maddie looked up. She hadn't been paying attention. Between cabin fever and worry for Danny, she was half out of her mind. She'd been worrying at her lip and cuticles so much that both had been bleeding. Jack, meanwhile, had lost something like twenty pounds. "Excuse me?"
"The names. We are attempting to determine how the names of witnesses, jurors, defendants, victims, etcetera should be announced."
"Why does it matter?" asked Jack, morosely.
"W-Well," said Azalea, eyes widening and head tilting back. "It matters quite a bit. There is a difference between being announced as Maddie Fenton, Ghost Hunter Maddie Fenton, Mrs Fenton, and Doctor Madeline Camilla Fenton, even if all those names refer to you. Just like there's a lot of difference between Danny Fenton, and Sir Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, Protector of Amity, Apprentice of Time, Opener of Doors, Savior of-"
There was a huge sound, and the walls shook, dislodging faintly-glowing dust that spiraled sideways in the air.
"What was that?" asked Jack, half standing.
"I don't know," said Azalea. "I'll go find out. Stay here."
As if they could do anything else.
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Admittedly, Youngblood only played at being a pirate, and he had a short attention span to top it off. But he had been sailing the ectoplasmic skies of the Ghost Zone for over thirty years. He was the captain of this ship.
Floating out here, by the bow of the ship, he could feel that something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Storm," he whispered.
"Eh? What's that?" asked Bones, shifting on Youngblood's shoulder.
"Storm," said Youngblood, more clearly. "There's a storm coming." He turned to the rest of the ship. "Storm positions!" he hollered. "Batten the hatches!"
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"Are you sure that will work?" asked Wes. "I mean, I don't doubt you could do it on a normal car, but won't the GIW's stuff be ghost proof?"
The cowboy ghost waved his hand lazily. "Kid, there's ghost proof, and then there's ghost proof. What does all that mean, anyhow?"
"That it'll hurt you to even go near it?"
The ghost shrugged. "Well, if that happens we won't be able to do it, but, by and large, I've found that 'ghost proof' means that it'll hurt you if you're fool enough to touch it." He gestured at his compatriots. "We're planning that a pair o' shears'll do all the touching."
"I don't know..." said Wes. Since when was it normal to have all these ghosts in his house, sitting on his couch, in his living room, anyway? Since when had he signed up to lead a revolt? He was barely out of high school!
His mother coughed. "I'm more worried that suspicion will fall back onto us humans, and we can't just disappear like you can."
The cowboy looked sheepish, "Ah, well, you have a point there ma'am, I hadn't consi-"
The ground shook. The dishes in their cupboards rattled. The hanging overhead lights swung back and forth. Books shook their way off of the bookshelves. Inky yowled from somewhere upstairs.
Wes had frozen. He'd done earthquake drills in school before, of course, but he'd never had to deal with an actual earthquake. Amity Park didn't get earthquakes, except for that one time when a ghost had just stolen the whole freaking town.
Oh, jeez. Wes really hoped nothing like that had happened this time.
As quickly as it had started, the earthquake stopped.
"What was that?" asked Wes's mother, her knuckles white as she gripped the arm of her chair.
Wes swallowed. He was shaken, too. "Nothing good," he said, hoarsely.
The cowboy stood up. "I reckon you might be right about that, kid."
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The Ancient Master of Time and the Ancient Master of Death having a fistfight behind reality was one thing. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before. The two of them, like all siblings, fought, though not frequently. This was... more intense than their usual disputes, of course, but it was a matter of scale, not kind.
The real problem for the Infinite Realms, and thus for the mortal world that was their flip side, was the lack of a Ghost King to keep the whole chaotic mess in some semblance of stability. The relationship between the Ghost King and the Realms was difficult to explain in full, but it was a necessary one.
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Danny came awake slowly, softly, and wondered why he couldn't hear the clocks. Wasn't he in Clockwork's lair?
He let his eyes open a crack, yelped, and rolled off the bed. Clockwork- weird, double-layered Clockwork- was right there in front of him. Too close. Too unexpected.
A struggle was needed for Danny to disentangle himself from Sojurn's (or should Danny think of him as Nu?) cloak.
… This would actually be a pretty good prank for Clockwork to play on Danny. They did that sometimes. Danny had never managed to actually get Clockwork, but... Yeah. Thing was Danny was pretty sure startling Danny hadn't been this Clockwork's intention.
Which meant-
What?
That time was screwed up? That was obvious, though. Danny wouldn't be here if time wasn't messed up. Clockwork, his Clockwork, could usually compensate for that, though. That this Clockwork was less skilled, then? Or didn't look into the future to judge his actions all the time?
Not that Danny should be judgmental about that. He wasn't exactly the best at weighing the consequences of his actions. He was also still partially stuck in the cloak. He rolled over and freed himself.
"Hi," he said.
Somewhere behind him, Nephthys burst out laughing. Well, he had been thinking that it would be a good prank less than a second ago, so...
Then he did a double-take. There were more of them than there should be. Nisaba was there, arms crossed, looking down on the whole affair.
Was this a bad thing? A good thing? It was certainly a different thing.
He looked back up at Clockwork, confused.
Clockwork looked embarrassed. Ah, that wasn't really a good sign. At least, Danny felt like it was a bad thing. It might have more to do with Danny not wanting Clockwork to feel bad than any utility as an omen, however.
"We need to talk," said Clockwork.
