I guess it's still technically Friday? Right? Right?
Teaching online is... hard... My brain... ow...
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Chapter 221: Unintentional
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The director did not trust Showenhower. At all. The man had wanted to become a ghost, become that kind of disgusting monster. True, the director cared more for material power than anything else, but his hatred for ghosts was very real, nonetheless.
When Showenhower claimed to know of artifacts—ghostly artifacts—that could pierce the shield around Amity Park, the director required him to identify them remotely. Who knew what he could do if he got within grabbing distance of one of these things? For most of them, they only had Showenhower's word regarding what they did.
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Far, far away, and also as close as the other side of a shadow, depending on perspective, a junior linguist in the Library of Tongues hummed as she tipped a book entitled Ghosts for Goths off a shelf. This book had been written and published by Frederik Isak Showenhower, a few years prior to his decision to support his lifestyle by robbing people. It contained much, nearly all, of Showenhower's research into ghostly subjects.
The Library of Tongues stocked a copy, as Shownhower, also known as Freakshow, was an important case study, referred to multiple times, in Jasmine Fenton's seminal work on Ghost Envy.
The GIW, being a hidebound bureaucracy run by old men, had managed to miss the existence of both Jasmine Fenton's paper and Showenhower's book.
The linguist neither knew nor cared. She was more interested in translating the book into Old Church Slavonic, and then laughing with her friends about how weird humans could be.
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As the GIW did not know of Freakshow's book, they had little reference by which to determine whether or not a particular artifact was genuinely something that could get them past the Amity Park shield, or an elaborate ruse designed to tip Lydia off to his location.
Oh, and give her a way into the facility. Lydia had always been skilled at 'quiet' overshadowing.
She had been waiting here, in the museum, for a long time. Lydia was a young ghost. She still thought a year was a long time.
She had begun to despair of ever seeing Freakshow again. At least, as a human. She was sure his mania was enough to ensure his existence as a ghost.
But here were two GIW agents, in what passed as 'undercover' clothing, walking right under her hiding place. Ripe for the picking.
She slipped a tattoo under each of their skins. She would track them back to wherever they were keeping Freakshow. In the meantime, it was dangerous for her to be in the same building as the agents.
She phased out through the wall.
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The agents, intent on the 'artifact,' and Lydia, intent on the agents, failed to notice the FBI team preparing to arrest the agents.
It turned out that sending teams of tall, beefy men with military and paramilitary backgrounds and ties to an organization that just tried to bomb a US city to dozens of museums across the country tended to attract attention.
(The GIW was better funded and more competent as a whole than Amity Park had perceived prior to being occupied. However, it was still the same organization that had individual codes for various clothing-related mishaps, and which had stalked and harassed Elliot for having white hair and green eyes. As with many quasi-governmental organizations, its level of competence varied with the phases of the moon.)
"We've got a go," said the FBI team leader. "Remember, we want these guys alive."
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"Maybe we could just stick an antenna out of the shield, see if we can pick anything up that way," said a member of Amity Park's very small ham radio operator club.
(Said club had picked up two extra members. One in the person of an unfortunate truck driver, who had become stuck in Amity Park when the GIW decided to quarantine the city. The other in the person of a ghost whose Obsession was ostensibly related to radios, but who also had fascination with cell phones, and was, in any event, too distractible to provide input in a debate.)
"But that could destabilize the shield!" objected one of the several people who had taken it upon themselves to try (and fail) to understand the Fentons' research.
"Not any more than tree branches," said one of the people who had volunteered for border patrol. "There are a lot of those sticking through the shield. I wonder how it knows to let tree branches in, but not missiles. Do you think it could be a speed thing?"
"What, like the drug? I've still got a couple grams, if you want to experiment, but it's going to cost you," said Ezekiel Murray, who had, after being released from GIW custody in the local prison and learning that the US government currently had very little influence inside Amity Park, stopped denying the fact that a) he was a drug dealer, and b) that he had been justly convicted and sent to jail for being a drug dealer.
Ishiyama sighed and wondered what god she had angered for all these people to show up on her lawn at the unholy hour of eight in the morning.
(Forget corn. One of the warehouses had better have a coffee stockpile, or there would be murder. Either that, or she'd resort to boiling the leaves of her camellia. Tea was related to camellias, right? There had to be some caffeine in them.)
Maybe she'd dump them all on Vlad… if she could find the man.
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Vlad pondered the issue of how to get supplies into the city. Oh, small things, like medicine would be simple enough. There were many avenues of distribution. He could even just tuck extra bottles into people's houses, or top off boxes at the compounding pharmacy.
But larger things for example, pallets of food, would be more difficult. His colleagues on the 'new and improved' city council were simply too competent for him to slip something like, say, a year's worth of food past them, no matter how many disused warehouses there were on the waterfront. Not by the time he actually got that many supplies together.
Even for a billionaire, things took time, planning. A sudden purchase of that much food would draw suspicion, too. More than his other recent activities, such as giving interviews and advocating for Amity Park to the wider world, and the simple fact of his connection to Amity Park would garner.
He did not want anyone to realize he had a way around the shield. Even if that way around wasn't exactly accessible.
Perhaps he could give food to ghosts, who would then give it to Amity Park, as a donation? Or in trade? But then people might ask where the ghosts had gotten human food in the first place and with the number of ghosts in Amity Park… and Daniel's short-sighted decision to reveal himself…
(Privately, Vlad admitted it hadn't really been a decision on Daniel's part, but Vlad was not exactly a fair man.)
Vlad very much did not want his secret to get out. Perhaps it was all very well and good for Daniel, who played the hero, but Vlad had never been like that.
At least he had done a better job keeping his human identity away from the ghosts than Daniel had. Not many knew who he truly was.
He put aside his pen and pinched his brow. He hadn't been this stressed since he finally finished his MBA.
All of this – this ridiculous minutia concerning Amity Park was taking his attention away from where it really needed to be. The trial.
His phone rang.
"Vlad Masters speaking. Why, yes, of course I'm available for an interview. There's not much else for me to do with my city besieged by those awful men. Didn't you know? They've set up camp around the shield. As far as I know, the government isn't doing a thing about them, it's a travesty…"
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"No," said Dan. "That's stupid. I'm not doing that."
"Themis said that if you don't fill this out and abide by it, she'd pick a name for you," said Nephthys, rustling the papers ominously. "She said she was partial to Princess Lady Trial Interrupter."
"No," said Dan. "She can't make me use that."
"In her court, she can," said Nephthys. "At least she can use it for you. We kind of annoyed her, I guess. It isn't a lot of paperwork, come on, you can do it."
"Why don't you do it, if it's so easy?"
Dan immediately realized this was a bad idea, and those words should never have come out of his mouth.
"Wait, cheeselogs, no."
"You want me to do it? Moi? Why, you only had to ask!"
"Stop it! I'll do it, I'll do it! Jesus, you'd come up with something even worse, wouldn't you?"
Nephthys smiled and hid the papers behind her back. "What's the magic word?" she asked in a singsong voice.
Dan growled. When and why had his existence come to this? "Please, just give me that."
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"I, Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, Protector of Amity, swear to speak nothing but the truth in this courtroom, for so long as this trial continues."
Danny didn't know if it would help, but he had chosen one of the more human of his titles and fervently thanked whoever on the initial committee had decided that one title was enough.
He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to dilute the bittersweet taste of the Stygian waters. He was nervous.
(He did not look at his parents. He didn't think he could stand it, to have them there and not be able to go to them.)
His parents' defense team had not shared their strategy with him. For ethical reasons, as well as the established rules of the trial. He had told Hemlock to try and follow whatever they did.
Danny's goal was to keep the punishment as minor as possible, and he had to assume that was his parents' goal as well, and that Wolfsbane had come up with a competent strategy. Of course, he and Hemlock had come up with an emergency strategy if it seemed like Maddie and Jack had chosen a suicide route.
Something like that didn't seem likely, but it was possible.
Every possibility he could foresee had to be planned for. Because these were his parents. His mom and dad. He couldn't imagine his life without them.
(Mostly because he didn't have to. Life without them was scary and Dan-shaped. Although Dan himself hadn't been particularly Dan-shaped since his field trip with Nephthys. He looked less like a Dorito and more like a churro. An incredibly angry, on-fire churro.)
"How would you like us to address you?" asked Wolfsbane.
"Just Danny is fine."
Wolfsbane nodded. "Please describe for us the events in question from your perspective."
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"Prior to this, how would you describe your relationship with the defendants?" asked Wolfsbane, after Danny had finished recounting his… experience of the safety assembly.
"Do you mean, as Danny Fenton, or as Danny Phantom?" asked Danny. "Because Mom and Dad didn't know I was both."
"They didn't know at all?"
"No. They didn't know liminality was possible, on any level."
"I see. How would you describe your relationship with the defendants, as Danny Phantom?"
"Well, not good," admitted Danny, squirming, trying to see where Wolfsbane was going with this. He couldn't lie, he had promised not to, but he could tilt the truth into a better light, if he knew where Wolfsbane was holding the flashlight.
"How would you characterize a typical interaction with them?"
"Usually," said Danny, "we'd only bump into each other when we were fighting the same ghost. Sometimes we'd even fight together, if the other ghost was strong enough, but once the ghost was defeated… They'd start shooting at me." He winced.
"Did you ever shoot back, or otherwise retaliate?"
"A few times? Once I thought they were overshadowed, but they weren't. And I'd try and break their weapons."
"So, you did engage in combat with the defendants, on more than one occasion?"
"Yes."
"And they were, at the time, unaware that you were their child?"
"Yes. I did my best to keep that from them."
"So, could you describe the relationship Danny Phantom had with the defendants as a rivalry?"
"I—" Danny had to think about that. Ghostly legal and social definitions of rivalry were… interesting, to say the least. "Yes. I think so, from that perspective. We definitely had a history of fighting each other, and it wasn't like I didn't give them reasons."
"Could you give us examples of those reasons?"
"Well, when they first saw me as Phantom, I sort of stole something from them? Then there was the overshadowing incident that I mentioned earlier. One time some stuff happened to make it look like I'd ripped my face off – Fenton-me's face, I mean. They were pretty upset about that."
For a moment, it looked like Wolfsbane wanted to ask him what could have possibly happened to make it look like he'd ripped his own face off, but he shook his head. "How would you describe your prior relationship with the defendants as Danny Fenton?"
"Strained. But we still got along."
"Could you elaborate?"
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"What happened, when the defendants found out that you were liminal?"
"They apologized," said Danny, "and then we all cried a lot." He shrugged and decided to leave it there. The conversation they had about 'fixing' him wasn't relevant. Or helpful.
Wolfsbane nodded and turned to Themis. "Your honor," he said, "based on this evidence, I move to dismiss the charges of Taboo breaking. It is generally considered acceptable to use any physical attack in an established, intense rivalry. Furthermore, the defendants had no knowledge of their relationship to Danny-as-Phantom, and therefore cannot be held to the standards of parenthood in that respect."
"Denied," said Themis. "That exception to the First Taboo is only applicable when the defendant does not intend to evoke the death of the victim, which has thus far not been shown to be the case here, or when the defendant's own existence, or existence of another, is in danger. Additionally, the quality of rivalry has not been established to my satisfaction. A full summary of my ruling and reasoning will be delivered to your office during the next recess."
"Thank you, your honor," said Wolfsbane. "Danny, to continue from that point, it is my understanding that prior to informing your parents of your liminality, they had been convinced to make a deal with 'Phantom.' Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Could you give us the details of that?"
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"Danny," started Astraea, giving Danny a small smile, "how do you feel about your parents?"
This was not the direction Danny expected Astraea to go in. "I love them, if that's what you mean," he said.
Astraea bobbed her head, just slightly. "Are you afraid of them?"
"No," said Danny. And he wasn't. Not anymore. Not now. Not – "Not really." He winced. He couldn't lie.
On the side of the room, the jury shifted. The spectators whispered.
"Are you sure?"
"I – Maybe?" He winced again and began fidgeting under the table.
"Have you been afraid of them in the past?"
"Yes," he said.
"Can you explain why?"
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"Thank you, Danny," said Astraea. "I know this must be difficult for you. But I just want to clarify for the jury. The defendants knew what their weapon would do?"
"Yes," said Danny.
"They had, in fact, designed it as such?"
"Yes." Danny's core was starting to hurt. Or was it his heart? "But they – At the time they didn't understand that ghosts could experience real pain, so… I mean, it's really my fault. I should have told them, but I didn't. I, um." He bit his lip to stop himself from rambling. He was making things worse. Stick to the facts. Don't volunteer new information.
Astraea frowned slightly but continued. "So, regardless of whether or not they knew of their relation to you, they knew you were a child and knew their weapon, the Mortifier, would force you to relive your death, correct?"
"Yes."
"Why would they want a weapon that could do such a thing?"
"To, um, discourage ghosts from coming to Amity Park?"
"How would it discourage ghosts, if they couldn't feel pain?"
Danny shrugged. "I don't know." Little ice crystals were beginning to form on his fingertips.
"On a similar subject, did you ever try to tell them that ghosts could feel pain?"
"Yes, but as Phantom. They thought I was lying."
"Why didn't you try to tell them under your other alias?"
"I – Well, I did, but they thought I had just – I had just been taken in. I mean, that I believed the, uh, lie. I should – I should have told them as all of myself. I should have told them that I was Phantom."
"Why didn't you?" asked Astraea.
"Because I was scared!" snapped Danny. Ah, heck. He did not mean to raise his voice like that.
Astraea nodded, as if she had expected his answer. "Was the Mortifier the first of the defendants' weapons designed in such a way that their use or existence would break a Taboo?"
"It – Yes."
Oh, Danny did not like the way Astraea tilted her head at that answer. Could she tell?
"Was it…" began Astraea, slowly, "the only of their inventions to break a Taboo?"
