Author's note: So I sat myself down today and thought "bitch, this is the first day you've had off in 7 days, it's been a year, pull yourself together and figure this out. you're not leaving the house until you get it done."
And since I kinda have to leave the house tomorrow for a vet appointment, I had to meet that ultimatum, didn't I?
I am so sorry for the wait. I could make the excuse that the Merlin fandom took over my attention again. I could even argue that my house-hunting adventures/work/real life had taken over.
It could have been all these things, but also... I think it was the fact I had it in my mind "one more chapter and an epilogue, one more chapter and an epilogue, and that's the end." I came to the realization, much too late, that the last chapter I posted over a year ago now was actually the perfect place for me to leave the characters. It was, as I mentioned before, *everything* I had been working toward. In this last year, I found myself stuck, unable to meet the expectations I had already surpassed for myself in that one chapter. I couldn't find a direction to land on, much less figure out a way to give this fic the ending it deserves with "one more chapter and an epilogue."
That being said...I came to the decision that the last chapter was the last chapter. This is the epilogue. I worry it'll feel like a cop-out, after all that waiting I put you guys through, and if you fear that too, then there is no need to read this, honestly. The last chapter was the heart and soul of this fic. This epilogue here is the last few loose ends wrapped up. It's a little extra to give an insight into where the characters will go from here, where this universe I built will go from here.
It's where I've come to accept the end.
It feels unreal to be here, about to post this. Shift is coming up on its 8th birthday this June. The amount of growth this fic has seen me through is incomparable. I got into and graduated pharmacy school, got my first job, my first dog, my first house, my SECOND dog, and learned so very much in the time since I posted the very first chapter. I'm not the person nor the writer I was when I started this, and I cannot thank you enough for being there to see me through it all. The Danny Phantom fandom is remarkable in its passion, enthusiasm, and creativity. The cartoon ended in 2007, and we're still strong, still supporting and nurturing one another, still creating and sharing. It's incredible, and I'm very lucky to have been a recipient of that support. Proud, too, to have contributed this fic to an ever-expanding fandom.
Chapter title is a nod to the chorus of "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you, and please enjoy!
Epilogue: The Fast Car
"Daniel James!"
Danny's feet solidified on the floor. He thrust hands toward his mother, palms out. "It's not what it looks like!" he blurted.
Mom stood at his bedroom door, running an unimpressed eye up and down his glowing body and then at the exact spot in the ceiling where she'd caught him phasing through from outside. The bed behind him was rumpled and cold, the quilt he used as a duvet balled up in a heap at its foot. "And what am I supposed to think it looks like?" she asked slowly.
Danny dropped his hands and gave his mother an innocent grin. "Like I am still on time for school, and there's nothing to see here?"
"Uh huh," Mom said, folding her arms. "Do you want to know what I think it looks like, Daniel?"
Two 'Daniel's in a row. Danny winced and assumed it was a rhetorical question.
(It was).
"It looks as though you just went out to see which ghosts Dora set as your guard at shift change," Mom said, "when you're supposed to be practicing and honing your Ghost Sense."
"I have been!" Danny immediately protested, triggering his transformation. The change settled warm and heavy around him like a weighted blanket. "I wanted to see if I was right."
Mom's eyebrows rose. "And were you?"
"...No," Danny grumbled. He fell back onto his bed and sighed heavily. His legs flopped as his back bounced against the mattress.
"How long did you actually try before going out to see for yourself?"
Busted. Danny mumbled a noncommittal answer and covered his face with a forearm. Hopefully it did enough to hide the mortifying burn beginning to spread across his cheeks.
He hadn't been at it for long, but so far, learning how to individually identify ghosts with his Ghost Sense was proving to be the most difficult skill he'd ever attempted to master. Could be the trick of it was eluding him because he wasn't approaching it from the right angle. Could be that, because learning new skills was no longer do-or-die, he didn't feel the same intense pressure to find control or risk exposure and capture. Could be his Sense simply couldn't be finetuned with such precision, no matter how much ecto-theory Sleetjaw and his parents threw at him proving that he could, in fact, do just that.
But in truth...
Mom's weight settled on the bed beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. It rankled as much as it comforted.
"I'm sorry, Danny." The chiding tone in her voice was gone. Danny's gut roiled with immediate embarrassment and discomfort at the sympathy that replaced it. It was an effort not to squirm out from under her hand. "I shouldn't lecture as though I know exactly how difficult it is."
I'd almost prefer the lecture, Danny didn't snap. He was better than the instinct telling him to lash out.
Obsessions sucked. Truly, truly sucked. The compulsion to go out and observe whoever set off his Sense this morning was so pathetically automatic and strong that no amount of logic could prevent him from scratching the itch the way he knew how.
Logically, though, he knew the first step to honing his Sense was rooted in learning to ignore how tightly he'd entangled his Obsession with his other ghost-hunting habits. Or better yet, learning how to willfully untangle the two so he could become a better ghost hunter. It was possible. He knew it was.
His entire family knew now, too, and he'd thought he'd made a breakthrough by telling them, even though every last instinct in him screamed against exposing so much of his neck to them.
He sighed. Jazz'd probably tell him that relapses happened to even the most dedicated of ex-addicts. He hoped she wouldn't. Comparing his Obsession to an addiction even in the recesses of his own brain made him want to Wail and tear his skin off. Others' judgment and empathy was almost too much as it was.
The rub of it was: he had to learn. He had to get over the inherent reluctance to discuss and think about his Obsession. He had to prove to himself he was the master of his instincts, the lord of his own mind and body. It may have been an artificial Obsession that was implanted into his head during the Portal activation, but understanding his own and how it influenced him and his abilities was the first step to fighting a future infiltration.
And if there was one thing he was determined to do, it was ensure he was not taken by surprise again.
"'S fine," he murmured. He forced a smile, and after letting it sit on his face for a moment, it did become genuine. "I'll get it. Eventually. Mind over matter, yeah?"
Mom returned the smile. "Always." With a final squeeze of his shoulder, she rose to her feet. "Better hurry up now. Busy day ahead." She cocked her head. "And it sounds as though Jazz just took the shower."
Danny cursed and flew, literally, around the room, swiping a fresh pair of jeans, boxers, and NASA t-shirt from his wardrobe and closet without looking. The last thing he grabbed was the hearing-aid-like device lying on his bedside table.
Reverse engineered from the Mansons' headphones, the device was intended to prevent certain ecto-frequencies from impacting him. His parents had put a heavy disclaimer on the filtration earpiece the moment they pressed it into Danny's hand, and Danny was fully aware it might not be more than a tremulous shield against the GIW's new technology.
But it was something, and that something could be the difference between having the time to save lives...and having no time to prevent himself from becoming the very thing threatening those lives in the first place.
Weeks after the incident, he still refused to go out in public without it. Only last week, he'd stopped wearing it to sleep. The kids at school have stopped asking about it, too, but that was mostly thanks to Sam and Mr. Lancer, who'd both stepped in and shamed them all into accepting that Danny owed them no explanations.
It had been difficult enough explaining to the ghosts as it was. Danny would rather not incite mass panic amongst the general human public just yet.
"Can I use the master shower?" Danny rambled to his mom. "Kthanksloveyou." He only barely heard his mom laughing as he zoomed out the door.
Despite his late start, he still beat Jazz out of the shower. In fact, he was halfway through breakfast before she flounced in, hair blow-dried and straightened to perfection. His was still fluffy and damp from his quick rub through with his towel.
She wrinkled her nose at him as he shoveled a huge bite of Cholula-drenched eggs into his mouth. "Gross," she said, flicking his head as she passed. "Do you have any manners?"
"Not for you," Danny said through a mouthful of eggs. Behind him, Dad chortled and abandoned the stove to return to his spot at the table, bearing a fresh plate. Several screwdrivers and plier sets stuck out of his pockets. He nearly grabbed one of the tools instead of the fork lying on the table before digging in.
Jazz's disgusted grimace deepened. "What's the rush, anyway?" she asked, brushing past to take Dad's place by the stove. She heaped the last of the eggs from the skillet onto another plate. "You can fly to school."
"He got approval last night, Jazzerincess!" Dad boomed happily.
Jazz's eyebrows shot up. "No kidding?" she asked in stunned disbelief, directing the question at Danny.
"'Approval' is a strong word," Danny said slowly. His caution didn't quite shield his voice from his bubbling excitement. "It's more...a trial period."
Dad waved a large hand. "To-may-to, to-mah-to. Skulker Spoke in favor, as did The Box Ghost."
"And Dora," Danny added, still a little stunned. Dora was remarkably open-minded and progressive, but even she had limits. The safety of the Zone was everyone's main concern, and hers most of all, as the newly named Guardian of the Gates. Wolf, her First Knight and a fervent supporter of improving Human Relations, may or may not have had something to do with Dora's decision, but that was pure speculation. "I shouldn't be surprised, honestly, but…"
"The one night I have to miss, and I miss this? " Jazz exclaimed, looking extraordinarily put out. "The three of them Speaking was enough to sway the Council? After all that?"
Danny shrugged. He wasn't so sure he could explain it himself. Ghost politics was not his strongest subject, and it wasn't easy to put the weird customs fueling those politics into words, not when most of it was instinctual. "Not everyone is happy. Some are still downright hostile about it, but Dora and Skulker alone have enough precedence to make up for it. Apparently."
"And it seems your friends impressed them. Regardless of the fuss the other ghosts put up, they are all quite curious," Dad mused. "It was quite extraordinary. Their priorities are so strange."
Danny couldn't help but swell with pride. Not so long ago, no one would have thought to try to understand ghosts. They were monsters, they were pests, they needed destroying. The only good ghost was one that Jack Fenton could tear apart molecule by molecule. No one thought to communicate with them. No one thought to give them a chance. Sam and Tucker made their first impressions, and just by being themselves, gained their respect. Danny had no right to feel pride for their success there, necessarily, but hearing Jack Fenton, once sworn against ghosts and all other ecto-entities, say such appreciative things about the ghosts, his voice full of fascination and wonder…
Well. That was something else entirely. It wouldn't stop feeling novel and miraculous for a long, long while. Danny didn't think he would ever forget just how much had changed since the Shift. And changed for the better.
"So it'll be tonight?" Jazz said to Danny, sliding into her seat.
"Assuming all goes well," he responded.
"Sure you don't want us to come with you this morning, Danno?" Dad asked, not for the first time. "Your mom and I can help put a lot of fears to rest right off the bat, I'm sure."
Danny shook his head. "We'll stick with the original plan. I want to try talking with them myself first. You'll be there later, won't you?"
Dad looked up from his phone, which had just lit up with a notification. "Hm? Oh. Perhaps later than later. I have a…business meeting tonight."
Danny almost laughed but realized his dad was dead serious. "Business meeting?" He exchanged a look with Jazz and found her equally baffled. "With who?"
Dad nodded absently. He frowned at the message on his phone screen and rolled his eyes as he pecked out a response. "I am a business owner, Danno. I do have meetings. With people." When Danny's incredulous stare finally registered with him, he grinned sheepishly and tucked his phone away. "Your mother usually handles the finer details. I just show up when summoned."
"Okay," Danny said, though he didn't quite believe a single word coming out of his dad's mouth. His father would rather find himself lost in the Zone without his jumpsuit than anywhere near something as mundane as a 'business meeting.'
By chance, he glanced at the clock and started forking the rest of his food into his mouth without preamble. There wasn't enough time to press his dad for details. He'd have to ask later. "Crap," he cursed, rising with his plate. "Gotta go!" He didn't bother with the faucet and chose instead to turn the dishware intangible over the sink. "I have to catch them all before they leave."
"See ya later, son!"
From somewhere in the depths of the house, Mom shouted after him, "Don't forget your lunch! And don't be late to school!"
"Text me when you're done!" Jazz added on top of their mother. "I want to know how it went!"
As Danny collected his backpack and wallet, he couldn't fight to keep the smile from splitting his face.
~...~
It did not bode well for this fine Friday morning that, the moment Sam walked into the kitchen, she could have sworn she was hallucinating.
Danny grinned at her from his seat at her kitchen table. He looked comfortable, his elbows propped on the table, his worn backpack sitting at his socked feet. Both of her parents sat across from him, each drinking calmly from mugs of coffee.
She stopped short and stared at the scene before her. Blinked. Squinted.
"Hey, Sam!" the hallucination of Danny said.
The apparitions of her parents greeted her too, with warm 'good morning's and 'did you sleep well?'s, so Sam was forced to accept this reality as her own.
"What's going on?" she asked suspiciously, gaze bouncing between them all.
No one looked discomfited, upset, or argumentative. Her family was on relatively good terms with the Fentons as of late, but there was no precedent for this. None at all. She didn't know what to make of it. Why would Danny choose to come to talk to her parents? Alone? Without her to act as a buffer? It was weird.
"Mr. Fenton came to talk to us about…" Pamela hesitated, as though hunting for the right words. "...the ghosts' High Council promising safe passage through the Zone."
Despite the unenthusiastic and reluctant delivery of the news, an excited thrill swooped through Sam. She swung to Danny. "Is this what you've been doing?" she demanded, voice raising an octave. It held no heat whatsoever. In fact, it was quite in danger of becoming a squeal. She couldn't care less. "Is this why you've been so shifty the last few days?"
"Shifty?" Danny repeated, blinking eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Me?"
Sam crossed her arms in response. "Very shifty," she said definitively. "You told us you needed to be home to water your parents' plants, Danny. Every day this week."
How he'd managed to keep his identity a secret for so long truly baffled her sometimes, when plants were the only excuse he could come up with. She knew full well the Fentons' house plants were not the kind to require watering, anyway.
"Even Mikey asked me why you were acting so weird," Sam continued, "and Mikey is the least observant person I know."
To his credit, Danny did look a little sheepish at her accusation, but his dancing eyes ruined the effect. "I didn't want you or Tuck to get too excited if it didn't pan out!" he said in his defense, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.
"You—" Cognizant of her parents' presence, she fought back several unladylike insults before landing on, "You imp. I can't believe you right now. Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Danny said, and Sam was too happy, too thrilled, to so much as glare at him for the pun.
"You made it seem as though a visit to the Zone would be an impossibility!"
The exact phrasing he used was "The ghosts would probably rather cease to exist than allow more humans into their realm right now, " but it amounted to the same thing. Sam had had to reset and moderate her expectations. She'd swallowed the harsh dose of patience with forced grace, reminding herself that the ghosts had fair reason for exercising caution, especially after the GIW attack on Phantom.
Putting every ounce of focus into after-school training with the Fentons had helped, too, she supposed.
"You've impressed them," Danny said, grinning. "You and Tuck both. So they're offering the same sort of deal my parents and sister have. You'd get the same level of protection a human ambassador has in a foreign country, essentially, so long as we respect the restrictions they've set."
Sam's smile broadened.
"We still have concerns," Pamela said. She pressed her lips into a stern line. "The ghost attack yesterday was—"
"A misunderstanding," Danny assured. "Kitty apologized."
"I'm not sure I'd call her screaming about the patriarchy as she flung ecto-energy at her ex-boyfriend and then shouting 'Deuces, dears!' to the witnesses below her excuses some of the damage she did, Mr. Fenton," Jeremy deadpanned.
"She ensured those women's safety and recognized one of them was in an abusive relationship," Danny argued gently. "That woman got the help she'd been denied for nearly a year because of Kitty."
"The ends don't always justify the means," Pam maintained. "This is just one example of the ghosts' instability and volatility, Mr. Fenton."
"Mom!" Sam exclaimed, bristling. "I was there. Kitty was being harassed. She reacted. And she did apologize to everyone who deserved the apology. She even stayed to help clean up! And so did her current boyfriend, when he found out what happened!"
She didn't mention that Johnny 13 and his Shadow's bad luck had accidentally caused more difficulties than anything, but it was the thought that counted.
"And yet," Pamela said, her tone still calm, "people were still caught in the crossfire. My point is that I'm not sure I trust ghosts to realize just how much harm they can cause humans when they…'react.'" When Sam opened her mouth, Pamela added, "No matter how justified the reaction."
"It's a work in progress," Danny admitted. The passion in his voice was unmistakable. "But things are changing, Mr. and Mrs. Manson. It's unlike anything I've seen in my time as Phantom. Heck, it's honestly more than any tenured ghost specialist would have ever expected from them. It's against the ghosts' nature to change."
Jeremy considered Danny carefully. "Reports do suggest as such," he mused. "Compared to what we heard out of Chicago before the Shift, the ghosts' behavior is…changed."
Pamela eyed her husband and admitted, "I suppose this is true."
Tapping his fingers against his mug, Jeremy continued studying Danny. "Can you guarantee my daughter's safety in the Zone, Mr. Fenton?" he asked seriously.
Sam flushed. "Dad."
Danny spared Sam a small smile and met her father's eyes. He'd grown, Sam realized. He wasn't the same sheepish and self-conscious boy she'd met in Casper High's hallways. That boy would have struggled to appear so comfortable and confident in front of her father.
Danny met Jeremy's gaze steadily. "The ghosts are weird about humans in their realm," Danny said, "but this is a huge step forward for them, toward human-ghost solidarity. They won't break their word, sir. Not on this."
For the briefest moment, Sam's incredulous joy was swept aside by a rush of fondness so powerful it nearly took her breath away. It made her happy to see him so happy, to see him showing so much pride in what he and his family had done to facilitate peace and understanding between the Human World and Ghost Zone. She was proud of him.
"And I won't be breaking mine. We've considered every precaution. Humans are not allowed weapons at the Sessions, but everyone'll be wearing a Spector Deflector the entire time," Danny assured. "I'd be happy to play the Guinea pig and show you how the Deflector works, if you want."
He sounded earnest and ready to do exactly what he said right there and then, but Pamela flushed and grimaced. "I do not think that will be necessary, Mr. Fenton. I have already seen firsthand how effective your parents' defensive inventions are."
"Oh, right," Danny said with a distracted nod. "Yeah, the effects of the Deflectors are a lot like the Ecto-Sup Bracelet, in some ways. We've taught our Deflectors to ignore my ecto-signature, just as a precaution, though we can always change that. If I'm ever indisposed for whatever reason, the restrictions on the device may end up being more a danger to Sam than a safeguard. I trust Sam to have full autonomy over how she wants her Deflector programmed in the future. I know Box Ghost would never let any harm come to her, and he'd get her out of any dangerous situation if the need called for it. If Sam trusts him, or any others, we can accommodate their signatures too."
Sam's parents stared at Danny as though he'd grown a second head. He didn't notice and leaned over to unzip his bag. "She'll also be equipped with a personal Porta-Portal that's keyed to FentonWorks," he continued eagerly, "For emergency returns to the Human World. I think we clocked it at two-point-three seconds last time we tested them. And—" He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a blocky walky-talky looking device. It had a small screen on the front, numbered buttons on the front. "This is a prototype communication device my parents invented specifically for the purpose of reaching someone in the Zone from the Human World. I'm carrying one now too, as are my parents and Jazz."
Pamela pulled the device toward her with a curious expression. "You've thought this through," she said.
"I've made mistakes before," Danny said. "Before the Shift, I didn't have the help or resources I have now. And now…well, the Ghost King is gone. The ghosts in the Council are trusted allies. Things are changing for the better. But that doesn't mean we don't all still have enemies. Non-sentient ghosts are wild, unpredictable. They always will be. Some areas of the Zone are off-limits and dangerous, even to me. There's a lot we still don't know."
Sam almost hissed at his frank reminders. He'd been doing so well. She'd sensed her parents wavering with each the introduction of each contingency plan and device his family had developed solely for protection and defense in the Zone. She'd seen her dad, especially, starting to come around.
Then he'd gone and shot himself both in the foot. She hoped her glower was burning a hole into the back of his head.
"I won't be making the same mistakes again," Danny continued emphatically. "I have my family, my friends and allies, and I don't have to act in the shadows any longer. I'm not alone, and neither is Sam."
Pamela and Jeremy exchanged a look, and then directed their attention to Sam. She held her breath, attempting not to look too eager. She couldn't recall wanting anything more than she did in that moment. Visiting the Zone was the next step in her journey to becoming a Ghost Hunter. This was her way in to learning firsthand about this amazing people and their culture, of helping Danny and his family toward a cause she believed in with every atom in her body. Please, she projected to the heavens. Give me this chance.
"You will call us," Pamela said slowly, "every hour."
Sam's breath hitched again, hardly daring to believe the words coming from her mother's mouth.
"You will follow the Fentons' instructions to the letter," Pamela insisted. "No rogue missions, no running off on any unsanctioned solo adventures with Daniel or Tucker. You will not willingly put yourself in any danger and will use the Porta-Portal the moment you feel unsafe or one of the Fentons tells you to run. I will have your promise on this, Sam."
"I promise," Sam said immediately. Despite herself, her eyes began to burn. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she wished she could say. Thank you for trusting them. For trusting me.
She thought her mother could sense what she couldn't say anyway.
Danny threw a brilliant smile at her, eyes alight. Sam pulled her gaze away from Pamela and beamed. Her joy and his fed upon one another, fueling the entire room with electricity.
"I will revoke permission if you break these rules," Pamela warned as she observed the pair of them.
Jeremy nodded. "We'll be following up with Maddie to ensure it."
Sam didn't hear what assurances Danny gave her parents. She was floating on air. With the important conversation done and irritating small talk imminent, Sam gave impatient and distracted good-byes to her parents as she tugged Danny to his feet, insisting they were going to be late if they didn't go already and yes, I promise I will call you before we leave the Human Realm and every hour after, and yes, Mom, I won't be leaving the Fentons' sight the entire time we're there and no, Dad, I won't do anything stupid, I promise.
They really were going to be late to school if they didn't leave, so Sam dragged Danny out of the house before any further requirements were made of them. She turned to him the moment the door shut behind them and sent a flurry of playful smacks at his shoulder, each one more enthusiastic than the last, wordlessly shrieking like a little girl on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the Fall Festival.
"I can't believe—!" she started at the same time he eagerly said, "I thought they—!"
A sharp whistle interrupted them. "Oi, lovebirds!" To her surprise, Tucker was waiting for them on the stoop outside. He laid his Nintendo Switch down on his lap as they bounded down the stairs toward him.
"You did it?" he asked Danny incredulously. He turned his wrist over to check his watch. "That took less than twenty minutes!"
Danny's grin became mischievous, and he flapped his hand. "Pay up, Tuck."
Sam snickered as Tucker slapped a twenty into Danny's open palm, mumbling about how this might just be the best bet he ever lost but damn if Danny wasn't going to rob him blind.
"Your parents?" she asked Tucker, coming up between them and slinging an arm around both boys' shoulders.
"Surprisingly reluctant, even with my mom's odd friendship with Princess Dora, but they came around! Did you know Dora's invited my mom to tea? It's wild. My mom doesn't know what to think about it, and Danny says—"
Sam didn't so much as flinch or shiver as a cold ring of light passed over Danny's form, intent on Tucker's story. Tucker didn't miss a beat either as they all rose into the air, and it wasn't until they were in the air that Sam snuck a peek at Danny's face.
He looked for all the world as though he were exactly where he was meant to be.
Dozens of feet in the wintery air, comfortably squished between her two best friends as they flew toward Casper High, Tucker's rambling and Danny's laughter lost to the wind, Sam smiled.
(She could relate).
~...~
Damon Gray blinked heavy and gritty eyes at the spreadsheets and documents piled on his screen. Budgets, proposals, grant applications…the sea of numbers and letters blurred in his vision. It was through pure force of will that he clicked through them, attempting to spend the last few minutes of his day planning where to start tomorrow.
Despite his exhaustion, a bloom of satisfaction burst in his chest. His cyber security start-up was coming along, slowly but surely. A few more things needed doing, and assuming he secured funding, he'd be able to get his business up and running sooner than he'd expected. It would make the long, grueling hours in his current position as a contracted internet technician worth it.
That's what he had to keep telling himself. It'd all be worth it, in the end.
A muffled knock on the door to the apartment startled him from the light doze he'd slipped into, and he squinted at the upper corner of his screen, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. He frowned. Well after nine. Rather late for visitors. Who could be…?
He was about to rise when he heard Val's voice. Ah. Val'd either invited friends over or was waiting on DoorDash. Perhaps both. It was Friday night, after all, and one of Val's few nights off.
Losing interest, Damon settled back into his chair and returned to his computer, only to be stopped when a rap of knuckles sounded on his doorframe. That was Damon's only warning before Val stuck his head in, brow furrowed and expression perplexed and...
Alarmed?
Damon's heart sank. His mind ran over increasingly horrific and illogical possibilities, a sudden rush of adrenaline waking him up as surely as a shot of espresso. He didn't have a guilty conscience, not in the least, but…
If they were here, in his home, when his child was there…
It was a trial to wrangle his tone into something resembling calm. His gaze did not once flicker to the gun safe attached to his bedpost, mere paces away. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Who was at the door?"
"Vlad Masters and Jack Fenton are here," Val said, each word slow, deliberate, and encompassing many, many questions.
…What?
Damon stared, racing heart abruptly stalling in surprise. Fenton and Masters? What an odd duo to appear at the Gray doorstep.
Unless, of course…
Damon's thoughts whirled. He had never met either of the two before. He'd left the corrupt and morally reprehensible GIW-funded Axion Labs well before DALV absorbed the company—not that he'd ever been important enough to have licked the then-CEO's shoes while she was there, much less sit in the same meeting room as her. Had Damon still been employed at Axion when Vlad Masters took over, he doubted his position in that regard would have changed.
As far as Jack Fenton went? Damon had an undeniable interest in the man's work, of course. Research and development was his bread and butter, and Damon did not deny he'd find a conversation with either of the FentonWorks co-founders a fascinating and stimulating time. Their children went to the same school and shared a few classes together, he supposed, but otherwise? Damon Gray had no further association or common ground with the Fentons.
Not…not publicly anyway.
So the co-owner of FentonWorks and the CEO of DALV together? Approaching him?
Unwilling goosebumps prickled up and down Damon's arms.
"Okay?" he said, as though he didn't know what this could possibly be about. He cleared his throat. "Did they say why they're here? Or why they came so late?"
"They say they have a proposition for you," Val continued in the same slow, questioning tone. "For us."
Hm. A proposition? Most curious.
His gaze flicked to his spreadsheets. "Well," Damon said eventually, feeling a little more confident and far less resigned than he had when Val entered the room. Tentative hope and curiosity kindled in his chest, replacing the snarl of suspicion that'd taken root. "We better see what they want. Let them know I'll be right there."
Val looked skeptical but didn't argue, ducking out without a backward glance. From the slim opening of his door, Damon could see both men standing awkwardly in the living room, waiting. He couldn't make anything from their posture nor their faces.
He didn't necessarily have to.
His gamble, it seemed, had paid off.
Fighting a growing smile, Damon spun in his swivel chair and hurriedly clicked off into another window. After a few keystrokes, he rose, leaving behind a screen with an empty, nondescript chatroom that, briefly, read:
gr4YD3m0n has logged off.
The most frightening one, however, came from a gr4YD3m0n, who DM'd Tucker privately to say: "This is one big bad final boss. You sure you want to mess with the GIW?"
When Tucker, under the username for-the-win, responded, "i think the fact you referred to them in the present tense is exactly why i need to mess with the GIW," gr4YD3m0n went offline, only to return a few hours later, say "Touché," and share several zipped files with the main chatroom.
For Phantom, gr4YD3m0n had typed after the last file was shared.
-From Chapter 24 (The Cat's Curiosity)