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Chapter 247: Decisions, Decisions
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"Really, Skulker," said Danny. "You've known me for years, now, do you think I'm going to lie to you about something like this, just to get you to come here and, I don't know, entrap you?"
"Considering what you pull with Plasmius repeatedly—"
"Yeah, yeah, but that's Plasmius. Vlad. I mean. You're different. Obviously. So."
"Yes, and now that we've established that, General, will you take a seat?" asked Pandora.
"But," said Skulker, "I don't want to be a general. It'll cut into my hunting time!"
"Tough," said Danny. "I've picked you."
"Yep, you don't get a choice here, loser," said Nephthys, with the air of someone who would normally be eating popcorn. "Get on up and take your seat. Besides, you've just got to change what you're hunting." She waggled her fingers. "Go after the enemies of the crown rather than individuals and animals."
Skulker grumbled, his shoulders slumped, but did make his way to his seat at the table. He had a remarkable command of body language for a tiny blob in a mech suit.
"Great One," said Frostbite, "what would you like to start with today?"
"Well," said Danny. "I've been giving it some thought, and I was wondering if we could set up something like a senate. Or a constitution. Ideally, I'd like to be more of a figurehead ruler than anything else."
"What a fascinating but terrible idea," said Nephthys, propping her chin on one hand. "Tell us more."
"Lady Nephthys," said Frostbite, "please. If you and Lord Clockwork went through the trouble of appointing me chairman, at least let me act as the chairman."
"Guys, I'm being serious—"
"The damage to the budget will be incalculable—"
"Do we even have a budget?" asked Mr. Lancer. "I haven't seen—"
"The budget is not for your eyes!"
"I can understand why you might find the idea attractive, but as you don't have to worry about succession—"
"It isn't about succession, it's about accountability and corruption," interrupted Danny. "Because everyone knows, sometimes, I make incredibly bad decisions, and in at least one timeline, those bad decisions led to an apocalypse situation. I should not be directly in charge of anything."
"Well," said Clockwork. "We disagree with that."
"All of you?"
Frostbite sighed. "Let us take a vote."
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"Now that democracy is off the table—"
"Could we maybe possibly revisit constitutional monarchies? Please?"
"—we still have to talk about arrangements for the Ring Ceremony…"
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A few hours later saw Danny with what he hoped would become the basis of the Infinite Realms Diplomatic Corps. Plus a few of the people he trusted most. Plus one of the jars with a clone core in it. They were, after all, still trying to get them to reform.
"There are a few different ways we can handle this," said Danny, steepling his fingers under his chin in an attempt to look serious. This attempt was foiled by his older sister nudging him with her foot under the table, his younger sister openly elbowing him, and his younger brother doing a purposefully poor job of hiding his snicker behind his shroud.
In comparison, the Ancients in attendance were relatively stone-faced. Relatively. As in, still not at all.
Danny let out a very put-upon sigh and wrapped his hands around the sides of the open jar containing one of his still unformed siblings-by-theft (he was trying to multitask, okay?). "Come on, guys. I want to at least have some solid options and pros and cons before the Amity Park representatives get here."
"They might not come, remember," cautioned Frostbite. "Since you proposed their annexation as a choice."
Danny frowned. "I know. I get it. Everyone thinks that was weird." He honestly couldn't imagine them not accepting, though. Which probably spoke more to a failure of imagination on his part than anything else, but still.
(He didn't know what he'd do if they didn't accept. He needed Amity Park. Wanted. Wanted Amity Park. Even if it was his haunt, he was going to be reasonable about this.)
"I don't think it was weird," said Jazz.
"Thanks," said Danny, dryly.
"You're just too cute like this," said Nephthys, reaching across the table and stretching her arm like taffy to poke Danny's cheek.
"What are you doing?" hissed Dan.
Honestly, Danny wasn't sure why he was even here, but Danny didn't feel like expending the energy it would take to make him go away.
"Poking my nephew's cheek. That's a thing aunts do, right?"
"Aunt Nephthys, please," said Danny.
"I do think that's enough teasing for today," agreed Clockwork. "You were saying, Daniel?" He leaned forward, as if actually interested in what Danny had to say- no, he was interested. Go away, negative thoughts.
At least the other, non-Ancient, not related to him, ghosts still respected him. More or less.
"Right," said Danny. "Our official position on liminality and my position." He took a deep breath. "I want human governments to know as little about liminality as possible. I know, I know, it's inevitable-"
"He stole my line," complained Dan.
"-that they find out something about it, especially once Amity Park opens back up and people who don't want to join us leave. But I want to decide what we want them to think and think about what's believable and what will allow the greatest amount of freedom for people who are liminal for the longest time. Because," he inhaled quickly, aware that any pause would be taken advantage of, and then everyone would be haring off after bizarre tangents, "I want to make sure there are laws in place for ghost rights and liminal rights before they realize they can make people liminal. I don't want to start off a wave of human experimentation."
This explanation had the effect of making everyone somewhat more serious. Good. That had been the goal.
"So. Feasibility. What can we do?" asked Danny, spreading his hands.
"We should start with what we want to happen," said Clockwork. "It is easier to decide what we can do, if we first decide what we want to do."
"I just said what I want to do."
"You said why you want to do it," said Pandora, correcting him gently, "and you gave a general overview, yes, but we need to consider specifics."
"Okay," said Danny. "I want to keep human governments from realizing people can be made liminal. I want them to think that it, I don't know, has to be inborn or something, or that it can only happen under special circumstances."
"Like being Ghost King?" suggested Jazz. "Because there's no way for you to erase that you told everyone in Amity Park that you're Phantom. Or the Ghost King thing."
"Yes, and that is currently sitting on top of my trademarked List of Regrets, right after dying. No offence."
"None taken. Essentially everyone who died can agree that they regret it," said Nephthys. "Assuming they remember doing it. As long as you don't regret becoming a ghost—"
"No, no, I'm fine with that part."
"Also," said Sojourn, "I recall that you want Jasmine to be part of the diplomatic party. Her liminality is easier to hide than yours, but if she is also carrying those swords…"
"Maybe we could do a family of the Ghost King thing?" asked Danny. "Ghost Prince," he corrected himself a moment later.
"What about Aunt Alicia?" asked Jazz.
"Ooh, I have another aunt?" asked Damien.
"What about all the people in Amity Park?" asked Mr. Lancer, who had heretofore been sitting quietly to one side. "Or your classmates? They know they're liminal, now. That won't stay quiet once you drop that shield you've mentioned."
"Ugh," said Danny. "I know. Do you think we should delay mentioning liminality or, you know, that I'm the prince, at least until Amity is open again? I mean, I didn't put my actual name on anything we sent to the president…"
"That might be useful in the short term, but it would also damage trust," said Clockwork.
"It would also undercut the benefit you're hoping to get by sending me," said Jazz. "If they don't know you're the king—"
"Prince."
"That you're the prince, then they won't know I'm related to you. The symbolic gesture of sending a relative would go unnoticed."
"Okay, see, this is the stuff we need to talk about. Maybe, going back to the relatives bit, we could say that the Ghost Prince is a relative on…" He trailed off, blinking, trying to get his train of thought back on track. "On the other side of the family from Aunt Alicia?"
"Again," said Mr. Lancer, "what about the people in Amity Park?"
"Hng. Okay," said Danny. "Maybe, maybe it could be because they're on land claimed by the ghost prince? Because they're in a haunt?"
"That has potential," said Nephthys.
"It has the advantage of being very close to the truth as well," said Sojourn. "After all, that is a contributing factor."
"Right," said Danny, "and if we control the land that people can become liminal on, then they'll be less likely to try and make people liminal."
"They may come to the correct conclusion regarding ectoplasm exposure given that much, however," said Frostbite. "They would be looking for environmental factors, at that point."
"Ugh…" said Danny. "Maybe just… we don't mention it, unless someone asks, then we tell them that it's just Amity Park, but helped by bloodlines or whatever. Extend the amount of time we have before they figure out that humans can have ghostly abilities. Get some agreements on ghost rights and sneak in some things about liminals... How does that sound?"
"My liege," said Fright Knight, "why are you so certain our opponents will not have occultists among their number? It was common practice in my time."
"Well, for them, that was the GIW," started Danny, hesitantly, "and… Oh." He sucked in his lips. "Freakshow."
"Mm," said Jazz. "Yeah."
Danny put his head in his hands. Everything was so complicated. At least he knew Freakshow was still in play from Poindexter and the Mailman. And Dora was happier, with her boyfriend back.
Gosh, Danny was glad he and Sam had introduced the two of them. Well, mostly Sam. Danny could freely admit he wasn't the best when it came to emotional intelligence and hadn't really thought too much about introducing them.
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Sam stopped, looking to the sky.
"What is it?" asked Valerie.
"I just felt something… Like Danny severely underplaying his role in something."
"Ah. Business as usual, then?"
"Pretty much. One sec, I want to check if the I can get the camera to work out here yet."
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"Okay," said Danny. "We don't know if he went to the government to con them or whatever, but we have to assume he did. Another reason for you to be on the team, Jazz. You shouldn't be liminal enough for him to control."
"Has anyone tested that?" asked Jazz. "Not Freakshow's stuff in particular, but the whole control thing in general."
Danny looked up at Frostbite. "I mean, he wasn't able to completely control me, so…"
"That was most likely at least partially because he was trying to make you go against your Obsession," rumbled Frostbite.
"Okay, sure, but some of it was because I'm half-human, right?"
"Well, yes. Someone without a core would, presumably, not be affected at all."
"But I do have a core. A small one, but still."
"Yeah, but it shouldn't influence your thought process that much," said Danny. "Your brain is still in charge."
"That is true," said Frostbite, cautiously. "In theory. The truth is, there haven't been many rigorous studies done on liminality and how it interacts with various powers and rituals. There are case studies, to be sure, like yours, Great One, but liminality as a whole is too rare, as are tools like Freakshow's."
"Not anymore," said Jazz. "I'd bet half the people in Amity Park are at least a little liminal, not to mention Danny's lair. Between Amity and Harmony, there's got to be at least a town's worth. I think that would be a good sample group."
"Oh!" said Danny. "I forgot to tell you guys. I named my lair!"
Everyone leaned in.
"What did you name it?" asked Ellie. "As the other person it belongs to, I have veto power."
"Hey, you didn't have any ideas, either."
"Exactly, which is why I'm not complaining. But what's your idea?"
"Refuge," said Danny, leaning back and spreading his hands out as if to frame the word.
"Eh," said Jazz.
"I like it!" said Damien.
"I can't believe it took you months to come up with that."
"You do better, then, Daniil Phlebotinum."
"I'm not the one who came up with that."
Nephthys cackled.
"I think it's very nice, Daniel," said Clockwork, earnestly.
"Thanks," said Danny.
"I've seen and heard far worse names," said Sojourn. "And Refuge fits quite nicely, from what I have heard of your lair."
"Thanks," said Danny, dully, covering his face in his hands. "Way to build confidence in my naming skills. You're just lucky I don't have to name anything else for a while."
"That's not entirely true," said Frostbite.
"What?" said Danny, already disliking where this was going.
Nocturne yawned, lifting his head from the table ever so slightly. "What, you guys didn't tell him?"
"Tell me what?"
Clockwork sighed. "You remember that Pariah Dark had two items of power. The Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage. You have a Crown of Ice."
Danny closed his eyes. "So, I'm going to need a ring. Which I have to name. Right."
"Yes, in the Ring Ceremony."
"And when is that happening."
"Oh, about a month from now." Clockwork frowned. "Or was it a week? Two weeks? Plenty of time."
It took some time to completely unravel when Clockwork had meant. During this time, certain other things came to light. Like how the Regency Council had sent out invitations already, except for a select few persons they thought Danny would prefer to send personal invitations to.
Which, okay, Danny hadn't been intending to send everyone who would want to come personal, hand-written invitations, but still.
"Oh, it isn't so bad, is it?" asked Sojourn, momentarily picking up the clone jar to move it closer to the center of the table.
Unlike with Damien, the jar did not shatter. All the ectoplasm in the jar simply condensed into a small, intensely glowing ball that immediately flew up and smacked into Sojourn's palm. Sojourn dropped the jar.
"Oh, my!" said Sojourn. "You are a tiny little—?"
The small ghost bit Sojourns thumb and then hid in the rafters and tapestries overhead.
"Oh my gosh," said Danny. "Are you okay?
"Yes, of course, it barely pinched."
"Sure, you're an Ancient. I was talking to him. Or her? I'm sorry, I didn't get a good look!"
No response.
"Maybe he's remembering, you know," suggested Damien.
"You think I should leave?" asked Danny.
"Maybe?"
"Okay," said Danny. He held back a sigh and smiled hopefully at the ceiling. Despite everything, he decided to take this as a good sign.
(Even if he was still put out about the clones being so scared of him—They had a good reason, after all.)
