A bit late, today. It's been a good week for writing, but someone I live with tested positive for covid, so I'm hiding out. Vaccine or no, I don't want to get sick. :')

Good to see all you familiar commenters again. Hi, 17!

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Chapter 263: Ongoing Projects

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Dan had been annoyed to learn that he had missed the fight between Dmitri and Lydia, no matter how brief it had been. Oh, he'd been able to sense the traces of it when he reached the airstrip. Enough to know that it had happened, and that Sojourn had intervened. But the fight itself had been long over. It was annoying, and made him regret, ever so slightly, the hard time he'd given Danny over his request.

But he'd gotten over it quickly, that annoyance replaced with that of trying to track an airplane in the air. With cloud cover. And a head start.

But Dan had hunted down many aircraft in his time. He could duplicate, and airplanes in civilian airspace had to run lights.

Dan rode along on the top of the airplane. He wasn't keen on finding Freakshow only to get mind controlled by him – he had enough of that to last him until the end of time and then some.

(If Dan ever got to the end of time, he could accept being mind controlled once more in exchange for getting the chance to laugh at Clockwork.)

They got to the facility soon enough to prevent Dan from messing with important-looking plane parts out of irretrievable boredom (a spot of clear sky – and stars – had helped immensely. Not that Dan would admit that. He wasn't Danny).

Dan chose to ignore Freakshow for the moment (that would teach that so-called prince not to think he could order Dan around) and instead wandered around the facility. It was laughably easy to remain undetected. If they were going to store imprisoned ghosts here, they should at least make it a challenge for ghosts to get in. They'd already stolen the ghosts from the GIW. Why not their portal generators, or any of a half dozen things that could have at least pretended to pose a challenge to Dan.

Dan trailed his fingers along the flank of a bloated containment tank. Oh, perhaps he would be impressed with the capacity if the Fenton Thermos didn't more than equal it at only a fraction of the size. As it was, the GIW clearly hadn't managed to update its technology between the theft of the Fentons' blueprints and the attack of the angry ghost army.

It would be so easy to break them out now. But, no. The prince was insisting on diplomacy.

Dan paused.

Did that… actually bother him? Normally, he'd be more or less insensate to the suffering of strangers. Surely, it was just the chaos the escape and the fight with the guards would bring.

Then why was he already formulating ways to quietly break out the ghosts in the tanks?

Was this empathy? Empathy for his fellow ghosts? Or worse, some kind of regression to the damnably heroic mindset of half his youth?

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("Why are you laughing?" asked Nocturne, blearily.

"Oh," said Nephthys, wiping a tear away from her eye, "you know I like to keep an eye on my projects."

"I think Dan would probably attack you if he heard you calling him a project," said Danny, trying to channel energy to one of his still-jarred siblings while drafting a letter to the UN.

"Of course," said Nephthys. "That's half the fun of it.")

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Dan decided to take some time for himself (and an ecto-ray to some tires) for the purposes of sorting his feelings out. This… took a while. But it wasn't like anyone was timing Dan.

Ultimately, it became clear that he was just regretting the lost opportunity for chaos. But he could be patient. He would be patient. And then, chaos would be his.

In the meantime, he could harass Freakshow.

He did this from a distance. All telekinesis and tenuously linked invisible duplicates. He remembered what even the picture of that stupid staff had done to his younger self, and he wasn't keen on repeating the experience.

He stole things. Little thing. Important looking things. Magical looking things.

The last were eaten. Along with a great number of donuts, pizzas, and bagged lunches in the research staff refrigerator. He didn't need to eat to survive, but he did find that he enjoyed it.

He also enjoyed the strife caused by the accusations and counteraccusations of lunch theft. It was petty, but, hey, he destroyed the world because he was depressed, so—

Wait. No. That was not why he did that.

Ugh. Whatever. It wasn't as if there was anyone out there randomly reading his innermost thoughts and feelings.

He'd also discovered that Freakshow had made a little friend.

The woman, a Ms. Forrest, wasn't someone Dan recognized. At least, he didn't recognize her as an individual. During his reign of terror, he'd encountered many people – humans and ghosts – so full of hate that they'd throw in with anyone who promised to destroy what they hated.

Of course, Dan destroyed them, too. He liked to think of himself as an equal opportunity cataclysm. Perhaps even an egalitarian disaster.

Or, he had been. He was… more discretionary, now. Or something.

Anyway. Ms. Forrest was rotten. Rotten in a way that grated against Dan's senses, made him wrinkle his nose and pull back his lip. There were ghosts who would feed off her out there, he was sure, even ghosts that would delight in twisting someone's mind into that, but he preferred sharp, clean fear. Well. Terror. Maybe a little despair.

Again, Dan was a monster. Just… a different kind.

But even beyond her truly atrocious vibes, Ms. Forrest was a rather terrible person. And Dan wasn't saying that just because of her relationship (not like that – that was disgusting) with Freakshow. She wasn't rude, exactly, but she was cold, severe, unforgiving, and prying on top of that.

The facility was a high security prison, but if she were put in complete control of it, Dan had no doubt she'd make it a prison for the guards, too. She was already doing a number on the researchers under her command, what with the security checks she demanded.

Dan wondered how hard it would be to get one to snap and murder her. Not hard, he thought. But… probably something Jazz would frown at him about. Possibly even lecture him about. If she found out.

Which she would.

Because she was like that.

Ugh. Dan was going soft.

In the meantime, he made things hard for Ms. Forrest and Freakshow. Every time one of them left their phones out, he made sure to delete messages and contacts. He waved not-totally-intangible fingers through their computers, scrambling hard drives. He stole files (and ate them, because what else was he going to do with a stolen file? Read it? Come on). Woke them up at night with temperature fluctuations. Disrupted important-looking parts of the weird chalk diagrams that they kept drawing on the backs of the containment units.

Yeah. That last one was probably important. He got the feeling that he would probably be expected to tell someone about that, but, well…

Look. Dan wasn't exactly a team player. He was having fun (and he might have lost track of time). So. Win-win for everyone. Except Freakshow and Ms. Forrest. Oh, and everyone still caught in the tanks, he supposed. They probably weren't having a good time.

He remembers being stuck in the thermos for… for much longer than the more weeks these ghosts have been, but still. But still.

There was that empathy again.

Ew.

Next thing Dan knew, a lot of cleaning was happening (greater opportunity for chaos and causing fights). Apparently in preparation for someone important coming. Or someones? Whatever. Dan was too busy trying to trick a particularly annoying official into cleaning his office space with a mix of ammonia and bleach by switching labels and distracting the janitorial staff. Alas, the man was too self-important to actually use the cleaning supplies, so Dan had to admit defeat… but not before unleashing a mouse infestation on him.

But he really should have paid attention. Because it turned out that the important people were Jazz, Sojourn, Sam, and the rest of the weirdoes that followed them to Washington DC. Dmitri was also there, but Dan didn't count him because it was painfully obvious that the prison guards and researchers had no idea he was there.

Which Dan took advantage of by plucking him straight out of Sojourn's collar. It was totally worth the small (but still painful) ectoplasmic swat the Ancient Master sent at him.

"What do you say we blow this joint while those guys play politics?" whispered Dan, roughly.

Dmitri blinked up at him with his one too-large, too-innocent eye. "Okay," he said. Then, "We have a new brother, now."

"What?"

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"If he teaches Dmitri any bad habits, I'll be having words with Nephthys," muttered Sojourn, just loud enough for Jazz to hear.

"If?" she repeated, also quiet, eyes on the president and his staff. "It would have been nice of him to send us some word of what was going on, seeing as he actually found the place. He's been here for a week, at least."

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this right now," hissed Sam, "five feet away from the security guards?"

"They're way more than five feet away," said Irving.

"I was exaggerating," said Sam. "For rhetorical impact."

"Oh, that's cool then."

Jazz sighed and ran her finger over her charm bracelet. Danny's gift had come in handy much sooner than anticipated. She just hoped she wouldn't have to use the swords today.

But depending on how the ghosts here were being kept…

Well. She wanted to keep her options open.

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Mr. Brown knocked on the door of the ghost embassy. He had failed to set up an appointment with Princess Jasmine, his anxieties getting the better of him, but he hoped they wouldn't turn him away, now, when he knew Miss Green was getting ready to act.

She was, so, so certain she could win this. Certain enough that Mr. Brown almost did nothing. But if she lost, and he hadn't said anything… oh, she'd drag him down with her.

He didn't want that. No, he didn't want that at all.

So. The knocking.

The large yeti-like ghost opened the door and Mr. Brown yelped, still not used to him.

"Can I help you?" it asked.

"I… is Princess Jasmine here? Or perhaps Pamela Manson?"

"No, but perhaps I can help you?" rumbled the ghost.

Mr. Brown swallowed. It was now or never. "I think," he said, "I have some information that might be of interest to you, regarding the remnants of the GIW? And, ahem, and warn you about what… about what they're doing," he finished, dropping his voice.

The yeti's expression was inscrutable.

"Come in," it said, finally, stepping back from the door.

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"These are the same containment devices used at the GIW headquarters," said Jazz, frowning. "The prisoners haven't been let out at all?"

"I've been reassured that the ghosts inside won't suffer any particular harm," said the president, shooting a prompting look at the director.

"We referenced available videos of Phantom," said the director. "He has been filmed capturing ghosts in a much smaller device."

"They won't be harmed physically, maybe," said Jazz. "But what about psychological health?"

They did not, of course, have a good response to that.

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"You are clear on the plan?" asked Ms. Forrest.

"You've only repeated it a dozen times," said Freakshow.

"That's because it's important," said Ms. Forrest.

In truth, Freakshow had very little desire to follow Ms. Forrest's plan to its ultimate conclusion. He got his power from ghosts. He wanted to be a ghost. He didn't want to destroy them.

Well. Not all of them.

Yes, yes, her suggestion of destroying the Ghost Zone and then enslaving what ghosts remained on Earth had merit and a degree of appeal – especially in the reality where Freakshow himself ruled those enslaved ghosts. But Freakshow was a life-long occultist. He knew very well that any reality where an afterlife was significantly damaged wouldn't be one that was fun to live in.

He intended to betray Ms. Forrest at the first possible opportunity. Oh, he'd have to wait a while for that. She did know her way around protective charms and other minor object magics, although she wasn't any kind of sorceress.

Ms. Forrest made an annoyed noise and began to play with her necklace. The way it glittered red in the fluorescent light made Freakshow's jaw clench. It was a deliberate reminder of what he'd lost, and that what he had now was only by grace of her generosity.

Hers, and the backers she occasionally alluded to.

Freakshow wasn't entirely sure they existed, with how vaguely she described them and what he knew to have happened to the GIW, but he knew better than to dismiss them out of hand.

He missed having an ally he could truly rely on. He missed Lydia.

"If you do your part," said Freakshow, snippily, "mine will go swimmingly."

He picked up the slightly dented iron shaft of what had once been his scepter. Red crystal still glinted from the end. Between that, the other shards granted to him, and their preparations, it should be enough.

And once he had the King of Ghosts himself, aggravating half-human that he was, under his control, and Lydia at his side once more, he could destroy Ms. Forrest and her backers at his leisure.

But first, they needed some hostages.

To hold them, they needed an army.

One step at a time.

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"We have another sibling," said Dmitri as he and Dan floated high above the facility.

"Uh huh," said Dan, folding his arms, "and whose fault it is this time?"

A siren sounded down below. The two Phantoms (well, one Phantom and one Phlebotinum) looked down. Several windows blew out.

Dan swore, then started to laugh. "Never a dull moment, is there?" he said, with glee.

"Wait—" started Dmitri.

Dan did not wait.