Welcome to Friday!
A note: If you enjoy this story, you may enjoy my original fiction as well! You can see my original stories on AO3 under the username Marsalias.
Guest: Hello! Thank you for reading, I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and the character development for the Fentons and Valerie. (FFN has decided to eat you review for some reason, I'm sorry about that.)
Jeptwin: Lol, I think I would not do a great job at rebooting. I have no idea how to write episodically. All of my ideas wind up... long... Thank you, though!
Anne Camp: Yeah, if enough people were thinking about it and wanted it to go up, an unbuilt building could become a ghost building! Buildings that were around for a long time and then demolished can also become ghost buildings. They're hard to get into, though. Most people can't even see them.
Dp-Marvel94: I thought it was time for one, considering how long it's been. :)
aquestionableprecence: Thank you! :)
Cyan Quartz: I do not see you, Cyan-I-Am.
Purest of the Hearts: Like, he also wants murder, to be honest, he's just... surprised.
17: It'll be a little bit before we see Clockwork again, but don't worry! He's going to be fine. :)
Anna McNarin: Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy it!
Asilla: This way of describing it is so funny to me. It's exactly what happened, but still.
Thank you for the reviews!
.
.
.
Chapter 205: Everything Just Changed
.
"Sir, if we're going to do this, we need to do it now. The shield is growing as we speak, and data indicates it will be all but impenetrable once it closes."
The director of the GIW regarded the screens and data spread out before him silently. Honestly, he had wanted to do this almost from the beginning. Power was always his first concern, but ghosts disgusted him.
"The optics will be bad," he mused out loud. The government did so tend to frown on collateral damage of this type… at least when it had been carried out by others.
But, in the end, what did optics matter, when the GIW had weapons that could kill gods and the keys to the future of humanity in their hands?
"Fire the missiles."
.
.
.
Harriet saw the missiles coming. She filmed the missiles coming.
She knew enough about weapons of war to know there would be no escaping this. Not if the GIW had sent it, not if it was an ectoweapon.
She kept filming, even as a tiny speck of a ghost flew up from Fentonworks, towards the shield, even as the missiles came closer and closer. The people had a right to know.
Amity Park would be remembered.
.
.
.
The sky was the wrong color. That was the first thing Danny noticed when the shield went down. He didn't have a lot of time to process that thought, since he immediately launched himself into battle with a tank, but he did think it.
It wasn't until all the nearby GIW members had been killed, captured, or driven off to elsewhere in Amity Park (and he could feel them like an infection in his city, his haunt) that he got the chance to look at it again.
There was a shield growing up, over the town, almost closed right over Fentonworks.
His first, knee-jerk thought was that it was a GIW creation, something to trap his people. But as soon as he thought that, he knew it was wrong. The shield was there to protect, to keep the GIW out.
Danny had made the shield.
No wonder he was tired. Even if his haunt was doing most of the work…
Something twinkling directly above the gap in the dome caught Danny's eye, and he flew upward, corkscrewing for a better perspective. The twinkle had turned into a glint, and it was getting bigger. It was getting bigger fast.
Had the GIW sent a jet or something? They'd have a hard time getting in…
His eyes went wide as he finally understood what it was. He threw his hands up in front of him, a green shield sealing over the gap in the in the blue, and with not a second to spare.
There was a-
-FLASH-
-of light.
The sky shook.
(And then he fell.)
.
.
.
When Harriet blinked the light from her eyes, she more than half expected to be dead.
She wasn't.
The next thing she expected was for the city below her to be in ruins. It also wasn't. Actually, it looked untouched, beyond the damage of the earlier battle.
Harriet scanned the sky for Phantom, then scanned the sky itself. The shield stretched over Amity Park, smooth and unbroken, not touching the ground until the other side of Elmerton.
She let out a long breath. She wasn't going to die today.
.
.
.
Everything sounded like it was underwater and distant. Incomprehensible. And there was something whistling, something high-pitched and wavering.
He tried to get away from it, bringing his hands up over his ears.
"Hey, hey, don't move, you just fell from over twenty stories up."
Danny groaned. "Hn?"
"How is he even alive?" That was a different voice, even farther off.
"He isn't." Oh, joy. Wes. "I've been trying to tell you all for years and years. He's a ghost. He's Phantom."
Vaguely alarmed, Danny pried his eyes open. Rainbows strobed in front of his eyes, vying with bright spots that may or may not have been will-o-the-wisps, and blurred humanoid outlines. He blinked, hard. His vision resolved a few black hairs. Everything else stayed blurry.
Black hairs. Well. Garbage.
He knew this day would come. The circumstances could be worse. Much worse.
"Hey, Danny, how do you feel?"
He finally placed the voice. It was Principal Ishiyama.
"What happened?" he slurred.
"According to this woman," said a Wes-shaped blur, "the GIW tried to drop a bomb on us, then you dropped out of the sky."
"My name is Harriet Chin."
"Oh," said Danny. "Oh. You're not filming this."
"No. I'm not." There was some regret in her tone. "I gave my camera to Miles. I needed a break, honestly, and nothing is getting through that shield." She sighed. "Not even AM radio."
Danny's core gave a contented shiver. They were safe. His haunt was safe. No one could hurt them anymore. The remaining GIW agents would be taken before long, and then he could finally relax, finally be content that no more harm would come to his people.
Better yet, his people knew he was a ghost, and the worst thing to come of it so far was Wes complaining they should have listened to him.
He fell asleep smiling.
.
.
.
The man stood up, shooting one last baleful glare at the image of the blue dome over Amity Park and Elmerton.
"John," he said to his assistant, "call a car for me. I'm going to the Cellar."
"Yes, right away, sir," said the man whose name probably at least started with a 'J.'
Honestly, these assistants burned out too quickly for the director to remember their names. He had far more important things to do.
The car was ready by the time he reached the front door of the building, prepared to take him wherever he wanted to go, be it within the complex or without. He barely waited for his assistant to catch up and hop in before giving the driver his instructions.
The uniform white buildings of the GIW complex zoomed by, accompanied only by the sound of the engine running and the gravel crunching beneath the wheels. Playing music in official vehicles was against regulations.
While the facility was fairly large, the ride was not long, and soon the man and his assistant were striding up the walk to the heavily guarded front door of the Cellar.
The guards, the man noted with something akin to approval, were attentive, demanding identification even though they had to know who he was. But, as his paperwork was always impeccable, and his assistant's nearly so, they were waved on quickly, into the bowels of the GIW's only prison designed for human inmates.
He went past the research floors, where petty but genuine psychics were held and tested, then past the floors where ghost-tainted individuals were held, and finally reached the lowest level. No one knew why the prisoner kept here was under such tight scrutiny, the memory had been wiped away, doubtless by some ghostly ability.
The prisoner disgusted the director, but, as far as anyone could tell, the horrid little man was both entirely human and extraordinarily knowledgeable about ghosts. In other circumstances, he may have been recruited to join the GIW, except he didn't want to destroy ghosts. He wanted to become one.
Still. He could be useful.
"So," said the director, stopping in front of a cell, "do you want to earn your way out of here, Showenhower?"
.
.
.
Danny sat straight up, gasping as if he'd just been doused in cold water, time dancing behind his eyes, visions of the present twisting and swirling in his head. He shuddered and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
Freakshow was not good news. Danny didn't know what the man could do in these circumstances, he didn't think he could do anything, but he was one of very few enemies Danny had who had immediately tried to kill people.
(The memory of Sam trying desperately to balance on a tightrope was one that haunted his nightmares.)
Of course, the dream could have just been a dream. A normal dream. Not an 'unreliable semi-prophetic power' dream.
(He didn't like those.)
This was when Danny realized he was on a bed. He wasn't sure where he had been last time, but he was fairly confident that it hadn't been a bed. More like, the sidewalk. Or a road. But he hadn't really been fully cognizant of his surroundings at that point, so he couldn't say.
He rubbed his eyes once more before finally daring to open them.
He was on a couch in someone's house. Some people were talking nearby.
"Hey?" he said, reaching for the back of the couch to lever himself up.
"Hey, yourself."
"Mhm," said Danny, pulling himself into a sitting position. He nodded at the ghost floating next to him. "You're, um. You're Adrestia, right?"
"Yep, that's me," said Adrestia.
"What happened?"
"You put a shield over your entire haunt, used it to deflect a large attack of some kind, and passed out." She paused. "Your humans know what you are, now."
"Oh," said Danny. "Yeah. I guess. That just…" He sighed. "That feels so weird. It's hard to believe."
Adrestia patted his shoulder.
"Where am I, anyway?"
"You're in my house," said another ghost, floating in with a tray. "Or, I should say, my former house. But William doesn't mind me coming by, do you, dear?"
"Nope!" shouted her still-living husband from another room.
"Hi, Aunt Ravel," said Danny.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah," said Danny.
"I have some snacks here for you, if you're hungry. Oh, and just so you know, Wes and that reporter, Miss Chin kept coming by, but I told them to go home. I hope that won't be a problem…"
"No," said Danny. "It was good of you. Thanks." He rubbed his face. "Ugh, why do I feel so tired?"
"Well, the giant shield I mentioned might be part of it," said Adrestia. "It's kinda shocking a guy as small as you can do something that big. Even if it's hooked into your haunt. You're not supposed to be able to do stuff like that. Not out here, in the human world."
Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. Great.
"If you have a headache, you should drink something. You don't want to get dehydrated!" said Aunt Ravel.
"Thanks," said Danny, grabbing the offered cup.
"I'm going to go back to my knitting, now, dear."
"Okay," said Danny. "Thanks." He blinked slowly. "Where are your friends?"
"Witness and jury duty negotiations. Except for Tess. She took a disliking to those white goons, if you know what I mean. We're gonna bring them back with us, the ones that aren't dead. Far as we're concerned, they helped those other ones attack the Core, so they ought to be on trial, too."
"What about," said Danny, seeing a way to solve a problem without having to deal with it personally, "their leaders? The ones that ordered the attack?"
"I don't know," said Adrestia, shrugging with all four arms. "Probably we'll be sent to get them eventually, but your trial is kinda more important, you know? We're all focused on that. Once it's good and started, though…" She trailed off, shrugging again. "Anyway, we have to bring you back with us. You aren't supposed to be here. Like, good thing you were, obviously, but you can't stay."
Danny nodded. "Do you- Do you think the shield will stay, when I go?" Because if it didn't, there was no way he was leaving everyone here. He'd bring them with him, to his lair, or Libra if he had to. They would not be subject to the GIW's nonexistent mercy.
"Should. I mean, I'm no expert, but I've been around a while. It doesn't look like it'll come down any time soon."
Danny nodded, leaning back into the couch. "That's good. I think they're going to try again. To kill everybody, I mean."
Adrestia frowned. "They should not be able to get past your shield, but humans can be tricky. Were I you, I would tell your humans to be prepared. You might even want to bring this place into the Realms."
"I can't do that!"
"Pariah Dark did it. With some frequency."
Danny's hand came up to touch the crown. It was a relatively small circlet at the moment.
"I'm not him."
"No, but you are the Prince. Which is probably how you were able to make that shield in the first place."
That was probably true, but Danny didn't have to like it. He raised a hand to the crown and forced it back into a barrette. It reluctantly complied but rebelled by adding a tiny silver bell to the assembly. Heh. Rebelled.
(If Danny wasn't already king of one afterlife, he'd be going straight to the ninth circle for that pun.)
The bell jingled, sweetly.
"Do you know who's been in charge?" asked Danny.
"Nope. That one redhead seemed to know most of what was going on, though."
Well. Danny supposed it was time to talk to Wes.
.
.
.
"Someone told you I was in charge?" asked Wes, horrified.
"No," said Danny. "Just that you knew what was going on."
"I'm not in charge," continued Wes, as if Danny hadn't spoken. For a guy who always wanted to be heard, he was bad at listening. "No one's in charge. No one. Do you know how many different little groups there are here?"
"Yes," said Danny.
"We were only able to work together because we all hate the Guys in White so much!" exclaimed Wes, throwing up his hands.
The two of them were gaining quite an audience, as they were having this conversation at Wes's front door, Danny having not been invited in.
"I think it was a bit more than that," said Danny. Even in the heat of battle, Danny had seen how well everyone had worked together.
"Just wait until everyone realizes we're stuck here, without any way to get supplies! Then we'll balkanize faster than you can say potato, and we'll be living out some kind of post-apocalyptic fever-dream while we fight over who gets the last bar of chocolate!"
"Um," said Danny.
"We even have the weird death cults, all ready to go! Why do I never think these things through?"
Internally, Danny was wondering what the heck happened to the Weston family to make both Wes and Hannah like this.
"Wes," he said, "this isn't just because everyone finally knows who I am, is it?"
"No! It's because we're cut off from the rest of civilization. How long will it be before they turn off our power? Our water?"
"We have a power plant in town. You know that, right? And the city processes water from the river… I don't really see what you're worried about."
"Food, Fenton! What about food?"
Wes had a point there, but Danny didn't see how getting hysterical would help anything.
"There's still the Ghost Zone," said Danny. "There's lots of people who trade stuff. Like, there's this town called Harmony-"
"Trade what? We don't exactly have a lot of renewable resources, Fenton."
"Some ghosts like to eat emotions," said Danny, shrugging.
"Is that a joke? Or you that divorced from humanity?"
"Well, you can grow things, too," said Danny, "if you don't like that. I mean, the city isn't going to run out of food all at once."
"Actually, basically, yeah, we are. We don't have a lot of stuff stored here. Everything is shipped in. This is a city, not a farm."
"I know for a fact that one of the warehouses by the river is completely full of corn at all times."
"… I'm sorry, what?"
"One of the warehouses is always full of corn. Dried corn, but still, you can eat that. No, I don't know why, but I know it's there."
"Why?"
"Box Ghost."
"Oh. Okay, I can see that. But still…"
Danny shifted uneasily. He really would have preferred to have this conversation inside, so that people wouldn't panic. Because people always panicked.
"There are ghosts who can grow things, too," said Danny. "They can help."
"But will they?" asked Wes.
"Probably. I mean, you don't know what Obsessions are like. There'll probably be tons of people looking for chances to do things on Earth, even if they're restricted to Amity Park."
"That's an awful lot of relying on ghosts," said Wes.
Danny ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. "Yeah, well, I don't know what you want me to do here. I'm trying my best, but relying on the Guys in White isn't exactly going to get you very far, is it? And that's what you'd have if I took down the shield. The GIW trying to blast this town off them map. Because that's what they did before, you know."
Wes's lips were pressed down into a line, and his face had gone very pale. "Yeah. You're right about that. That doesn't mean that everything else I said isn't right."
"Yeah, you're just making it out to be a lot more dire than it is. Trust me, I'm not about to let you all die, and, believe it or not, I have a lot of pull on the other side."
"Whatever," said Wes. Finally, he stepped to the side, and waved Danny through the door. "Take your shoes off," he muttered.
"Right," said Danny.
"So, does that pull of yours have anything to do with the crown you were wearing earlier? What happened to it, anyway?"
Danny cringed. He had been hoping everyone had forgotten about the crown. Although, if he were being honest with himself, if the humans and ghosts of Amity Park started getting along and interacting, the truth of the crown would come out sooner or later.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to talk about it later."
"And have it become the next big Fenton secret?" asked Wes, crossing his arms and leaning against the now-closed door.
"You know, that isn't trapping me," pointed out Danny. "I could just phase through you."
"Will you?"
"Probably not," admitted Danny.
Wes sighed. Danny frowned. Wes, in his opinion, had no reason to be so exasperated.
"Why are you here, Fenton?"
"Well, you know that whole balkanization thing you mentioned? I don't really want that to happen, so I was hoping that you'd be able to get into contact with all the leaders, so we can talk about things and make a plan. If you're done yelling things that'll make people nervous into the air at the top of your lungs."
Wes blushed.
"You do get why that was a bad idea, right?"
"Shut up, Fenton. You've been off having an adventure in the Ghost Zone while we've been living out some kind of second-rate young adult novel."
"I was nearly killed several times."
"You're already dead, Fenton. You're a ghost. You can't die."
Right. Wes didn't know the intricate details of Danny's existence. How could he? It wasn't his fault. It was, however, still incredibly annoying.
"Look, why don't you call the other leaders, and while we're waiting for them, I can explain to you why you're wrong."
Wes's face did a funny thing where the center of his mouth went down but the corners went up. His eyebrows twitched.
"Like I was wrong about you being Phantom?"
"No, you were right about that," said Danny, cautiously.
An alarming wheeze escaped Wes's throat, and he doubled over.
"Wes? Are you okay?"
Wes made a choking sound, and Danny made his mind up to attempt the Heimlich maneuver. True, Danny had no idea what Wes could be choking on, but, still, that wasn't a natural sound.
Then Wes started laughing.
Ancients, what a jerk.
