Hello, everyone! I hope you are all staying safe and healthy in these trying times. There are a few things I want to say before starting this chapter.
The first, and by far the most important is this: Please support the protests against police violence and racism! If the actions of the very fictional GIW in this fic upset you, the actions the real police have taken against real people should upset you a thousand times more! A lot of you, like me, aren't in a position to physically go to the protests, either because of distance or health concerns, or you aren't going because what's happening at the protests is scary (which is valid!), but you can still make your voices and opinions heard. Please consider donating, writing to your representatives, senators, or local lawmakers, or even watching a playlist on youtube that donates to BLM organizations and charities. In the end, every little bit helps.
The second important thing is that these next eight or so chapters may resonate somewhat with current events. This is unintentional, since these chapters were written back in March, and it's the natural evolution of the GIW plot thread, but I don't want to unexpectedly stress anyone out.
THIS CHAPTER FEATURES AN EVENT THAT COULD BE CONSIDERED A RIOT AND IS DEFINITELY AN ARMED CONFLICT BETWEEN HUMANS. If that is triggering to you, especially in light of current events, please skip!
.
.
.
Chapter 199: Start to Cross
.
"Do you really trust them?" the ghost whispered into Wes's earpiece, his voice mostly static. "These 'GIW informants?'" The ghost had asked this question several times over the past few days.
"Not really," said Wes, crawling forward to get a better look at Fentonworks. "But they've been stationed here much longer than the others, and, well…" he trailed off, trying to articulate his feelings. "Even they thought their bosses were going too far."
"We can still back out."
Wes disagreed. It was now or never. The city was surrounded, and even if some people could get out via the secret roads or through the woods, many more people wouldn't be able to make a trip like that or would be caught. Then, even if they did get away, they would be fugitives forever. The only way out of this situation was to take Fentonworks.
The Fentons' had some absolutely sick broadcasting equipment up in the alien spaceship perched on their roof. The older adults hadn't known, but everyone who had been a kid back when Ember McClain and Younblood kidnapped all the adults in town did. They remembered Tucker, Sam, and Danny broadcasting over the ghostly strains of Ember's mind-control melodies.
The plan was to get word out. To tell everyone, everywhere what was happening in Amity Park. To get help. But if that didn't work… If the outside world continued to see Amity Park as nothing but a hoax, a lie, a joke, a blemish, a danger… There was an escape route. Not one any human wanted to take, true, but it was there, under Fentonworks.
The portal.
God, they must be desperate.
"Signal should be coming any minute, now," said Wes. "Any minute."
.
.
.
Agent O handed the box off to the head scientist and shifted uncomfortably. Moving the D2218 upstairs had taken a long time, and he just knew that they were late. What if that Wes kid had given up and skived off? He didn't exactly seem reliable, but then, he and K didn't really have any choice.
They had screwed up big time when they joined the GIW.
It was supposed to be a joke, at first, honestly. Neither of them had actually believed in ghosts when they signed up. But then they'd seen the damage ghosts could do, and they'd been converted.
Then, much later, they had seen what the GIW did to the ghosts they caught, and they had begun to have some doubts. Especially when it came to Phantom, who, no matter what they did to him, had never once harmed them.
And, now, this. What they were doing to the people here.
O an K had, very quietly, very discretely, managed to get out of mandatory ectoplasm testing. Then they had, privately, tested themselves. They were below average for Amity Park, but far above the established limit of GIW toleration. Above some of the people the GIW had tried to take the day they had spoken to Wes Weston.
If they were found out, and they would be, eventually, they were screwed. Completely screwed.
As morality was conveniently aligned with their need for survival, they had done the only thing they could: back the side less likely to execute them for being a 'contaminant.'
The head scientist opened the box, and his eyes went wide, eyes reflecting a soft glow. O swallowed. He had learned to dislike that expression.
He glanced at K. They needed to start off their distraction and give Wes the signal soon.
K coughed. "Er, sir?" he said. "O and I were supposed to go off-shift half an hour ago."
"Yes, yes, whatever, go ahead." The scientist waved his hand, still staring into the box. A faint smile was forming on his lips.
Ye gods, that didn't bode well. Thankfully, whatever the scientist was planning wouldn't come about. Or, at least, O wouldn't be around to see it.
O let K go out first. "Ready?" he asked, quietly.
K pulled the Fentonworks branded button out from inside his jacket. "Ready," he said.
"Let's do this."
K hit the button. The Fenton slime bombs they had snuck out of the shipments to GIW research headquarters and hidden all around the house went off at once. The stairs to the second floor were the only safe place.
O heard the downstairs windows crack, and the other agents cry out in alarm. He pulled free his blaster and nodded at K. K hit the button again, and the remnants of the Fentons' defense system shrieked into action.
They both started to strip off their white outer clothing. Anyone wearing white was going to be a target, and they wanted to get out of this with their skin intact.
It was time to go.
.
.
.
Danny dropped into his room, right in front of the man holding the box. He snapped it shut, hard, and yanked it back into his own protective grip. Then he punched the man. No ghost powers needed.
His ghost sense went off. He turned to the machine. There were ghosts in there. In pain. And… In their weapons, too?
(How had he not noticed before? The crown expanded, as if in answer, twining through his hair.)
Right. Fine. Whatever. He reached out and pulled a panel off the thing, reached in, and broke something that felt like glass.
Pulling his hand out, he rapidly fired ghost rays at the remaining GIW… agents? Scientists? People? Whatever. They were wearing white.
Slime exploded from the walls.
Okay. That was new.
Danny protected the box with his body. First priority: get it somewhere safe. Second priority: get the GIW out of his town. Third priority: get back to Clockwork to be lectured.
Priorities straight.
But where would be safe?
Okay, maybe getting the GIW out of his town should come first. Along with protecting his people from them, and-
He ducked, and kicked, hard. Bones broke under his foot.
Too much slime on the walls to phase through. He'd have to take a more mundane route. To the Ops Center? Yes, that would work, for now.
To the emergency ham!
He flew down the stairs, upsetting some agents on the way down, and, oh, there were a lot of agents. Heck.
Maybe he had killed a bunch of them to keep them from getting to the Core, but he'd really prefer not to do that now, if he had a choice. They were still people after all.
(A small voice inside asked, Are they? Really?)
Where did the fridge go? Where did the furniture go?
Actually, thinking back to his room-
His models! Oh! That was going too far.
Ow! Maybe he should refocus on the people currently shooting at him.
.
.
.
Several of Fentonwork's windows burst out and began to leak slime.
"There's the signal!" exclaimed Wes, leaping from his hiding place behind a neighbor's shrubbery.
From hidden places and extradimensional paths all around Fentonworks, the people of Amity Park charged. The sky split open, and ghosts poured out and down.
The agents on watch raised their weapons. Wes stared down the barrel of a very nasty looking gun. He kept running.
The GIW couldn't stop them all.
A bright green light burst out of one of the windows and nailed the agent aiming at Wes in the side of the head. Wes jerked his head, looking for the source, and almost tripped over his feet when he found it.
Fenton.
Of course. Of course, he would show up now, and get all the glory, with his stupid cape and crown and-
Wait, what?
For the second time in as many seconds, Wes did a double-take, and, this time, he did trip.
.
.
.
Danny had never purposefully set out to claim Amity Park as his haunt. It had just sort of happened. It wasn't like he only protected Amity Park, anyway. He didn't stop at the city borders.
His haunt didn't, either.
Miles outside Amity Park and Elmerton, beyond the GIW cordon, a shimmering blue barrier began to float off the ground, slowly flowing into the air like dyed water creeping up a sheet of paper.
.
.
.
Danny did not appreciate the GIW shooting at his people. Not at all. Even less appreciated were the screams of pain as some of them were hit and subsequently trampled under their fellows.
He growled, and the house growled with him. The slime on the walls and floors began to bubble. No, he wasn't going to be holding back in another battle where people were hurt.
He divided himself into four. Ice and ectoplasmic fire poured from his hands. What few of his family's belongings remained in the house animated and began to strike. The very, very dead plant life in the neglected flowerbeds rattled menacingly and burst into undead color and vigor. A vibrantly glowing yellow rose wound in through the window, swelled to monstrous size, and ate a man. Green shields sprang from nothing whenever a GIW agent so much as aimed in the direction of one of Danny's people.
Through it all, Fentonwork's defense system howled madly, the components stolen by the GIW growing back from the ectoplasm-rich air. Amity Park, it seemed, was just as good at that sort of thing as the Ghost Zone.
Danny had never felt so connected to his haunt. Maybe it was the length of time he'd been away. Maybe it was how much it needed him right now. He didn't know. He wasn't sure he cared, except that he, all of him, and all his haunt, wanted the GIW out out out and out NOW.
But there were many GIW agents, and they had weapons that hurt ghosts and humans alike.
And, Danny realized, as his sensitive ears picked up a radio conversation even over the sounds of battle, they were calling reinforcements from the perimeter.
He hauled Wes from the ground. He wasn't quite sure how he had gotten outside. Fights like this made everything seem a blur. The other three of him were fighting on in other places.
"Can't you stay on your feet? Didn't you play basketball?"
"Shut up, Fenton," said Wes, fumbling with a gun he had stolen from a downed GIW agent. "Can't you do some ghostly thing and get rid of all of them?"
"Trying. Too many. Too spread out. Too many of the rest of you mixed in. They're calling reinforcements." Each word, each syllable, was punctuated with some kind of attack. "I assume you had a plan?"
"Your parents' radio stuff?" huffed Wes, the lilt at the end turning it into a question.
"Oh! In the Ops Center? Good idea!" Danny grabbed Wes under the arms and lifted. Flying up was a much better and faster option than fighting their way through the GIW in the house.
Wes made a kind of strangled noise and clung to Danny. "You freaking jerk!" he gasped, once they were two stories off the ground.
Danny was about to reply, but then had to turn his attention to dodging groundfire. As soon as he could, he phased through the side of the Ops Center.
Hilariously enough, it looked like the GIW hadn't managed to break in here, yet. Probably because they had gotten rid of the fridge and, therefore, the emergency ham and the hidden activation button. Either that, or they were under the mistaken impression that the Ops Center was merely a large satellite dish, as Jack and Maddie had stated on their application to the city for permission to have it built.
Danny set Wes gently on the ground.
"Now what?" he asked, cheerfully.
.
.
.
The problem with being the only reputable reporter to take ghosts seriously, thought Harriet Chin, ignoring the fact that she hadn't been a reputable reporter since she had started to take ghosts seriously, was that she had to carry around her own equipment. Sure, she didn't have to compete with other reporters for scoops, but at what cost to her shoulders?
She knew, of course, that taking ghosts seriously had other downsides. Becoming a laughingstock, for example. Losing her previous job, for another. Frequently running into life-threatening or… questionable situations for a third.
She had been resisting moving to Amity Park, the one place in the world where belief in ghosts as physical, super-powered beings from some kind of hell dimension didn't automatically turn you into a social pariah, for years. Going there, permanently, felt too much like giving up, although it was a nice place to visit and gather intel, protective gear, and safety tips.
But she kept an eye on it. Just in case something newsworthy happened there. Something that would make other people see that she wasn't crazy.
That was why she had noticed when the town had been quietly quarantined due to a 'dangerous chemical spill.'
Which, well, wasn't completely absurd, as far as cover stories went. At first, Harriet had even considered that it might be true. After all, Amity Park was home to both Fentonworks and Axion Labs.
But, surely, a mere chemical spill wouldn't necessitate the level of security she had seen in place around Amity Park. Besides, wouldn't they be evacuating people if it really was a chemical spill? Wouldn't they let the media in? Wouldn't they at least let the citizens communicate with the outside world?
But they weren't doing that. So, something else was going on.
Harriet wondered if the town had disappeared again. She had seen the crater, last time. It had been a wonder. She still wasn't sure how that had been covered up, but as her article on it had been labeled a hoax by, well, virtually everyone, it had been well done.
But things had changed, she reminded herself as she picked her way through the brush.
Ghosts and Amity Park were public knowledge, now. The government had acknowledged the existence of ghosts in the same breath as it accused them of kidnapping two-dozen or so people. Then they praised the brave GIW, who had been kept secret for who knows how long, because the government certainly wasn't saying, and who were, apparently, going to go save all those people.
And yet. The chemical spill. Which they claimed to have been caused by ghosts.
Harriet didn't know who was writing the playbook for this coverup, but either they weren't as good at it as whoever had orchestrated the previous one, or they had a much different endgame, and they didn't need the cover story to work indefinitely. Or even be consistent.
Yeah, that was a bit chilling, honestly. Well, she had been a war correspondent. This couldn't be any worse.
She kept telling herself that.
(But she was afraid.)
A twig snapped under her feet and she froze. She'd been working on getting past the GIW perimeter for what felt like forever, during which time she had been caught twice. The first time she'd been given a warning. The second time all her equipment had been confiscated and she had been fined. She doubted she would be so lucky a third time.
When no white-suited men jumped out of the trees to arrest her, Harriet let out a sigh.
(It was telling that she was more worried about them than about the ghosts. But then, she had interviewed some perfectly polite ghosts, and she had yet to see any evidence that GIW agents were human. So.)
She hurried forward. This was the closest she had gotten yet.
(Even if she didn't get a single interview out of this, a single reader who believed her, she had friends in Amity Park. She wanted to see them safe.)
A flash of unnatural color at ground level caught her eye and she froze again, staring through the leaves and bushes, trying to understand what she was seeing.
It was like a river of blue light flowing in a gentle curve at about knee height. She stepped closer, checking that her camera, a little strap on thing, not the one she carried in the case over her shoulder, was recording. This was something she wanted to get on film. It was probably some nefarious GIW perimeter alarm thing.
Except, Harriet couldn't help but think, it was a little too ghostly for them, a little too pretty, and, most damningly of all, not white.
It was maybe an inch wide, and the top was uneven, waving up and down. A ghost shield, maybe? She doesn't touch it. That would be stupid. She knew enough from her association with the Fentons to be aware that ghost shields could be electrified- or feel electrified, at any rate. She remembered Maddie trying to make some subtle distinction, but what Harriet got out of it was that touching random glowy ghost stuff could hurt, and that was good enough for her.
But she wasn't going to let it stop her. It was low enough for her to step across it with no problem.
She slid up to it, inch by inch, ready to throw herself back if she felt any danger at all. Then, carefully, her equipment was expensive, she set her bag down on the other side of the barrier. She scooted just a little closer when nothing happened, picked up her leg and-
The barrier reached out for her. It enveloped her leg, making her wave her arms to keep balanced.
Who?
Ah!
Friend.
The barrier let go of her leg and straightened out.
Behind her.
Oh. Great. Cool. Wonderful. Good to be a friend. Yep.
She grabbed her bag and sprinted away from the barrier, towards Amity Park.
.
.
.
Danny wasn't really paying attention to what Wes was doing. He was too distracted by his sudden connection to Amity Park. Except, it wasn't sudden, was it? It was just that he could feel it better, probably a side effect of everything he went through back in his lair.
It was like- He bounced in the air. Like being tied to everything. Rooted to the ground, the air, the people. It was binding, and it was freeing, and it was amazing.
Of course, all of that was rather eclipsed by the utter disaster occurring all around him. But, well. Still. One thing he had learned was to appreciate wonder even when he was getting physically thrown into it hard enough to leave cracks. Yeah.
He could feel the ghosts, wild and angry, restless, yearning for vengeance. He could feel the graveyards, full of the sleeping dead, who hadn't quite managed to wake up as ghosts, not yet, but who would in time. Time. Or power. Or the right motivation.
Danny might be short on time, but he had plenty of the other two on hand.
Amity Park had a lot of graveyards. Clockwork had recently spent several hours teaching Danny how to raise armies.
The GIW weren't the only ones getting reinforcements.
