A/N
This story is based off of the double episode 'Reality Trip' and follows the same basic plot line of the episodes. However, I thought they had a lot more potential than they were given, and wanted to go in depth with not only the trio's cross country trip, but the thoughts and emotions Danny's family felt when they found out their son was really Danny Phantom.
I am attempting to give a more realistic feel to the show, so some blood and gore may be prevalent as well as gruesome descriptions of ghosts or flashback events.
This is my first time writing for Danny Phantom, and any thoughts, comments, ideas, or concerns are very appreciated and I hope you guys enjoy!
Such insolent little fools they all were. Walking the Earth with such powerful ghostly beings that made them all look like pathetic ants swarming about. He despised them all. But could he truly say that he was any better? He, the master of all shows, who wanted nothing more than to be the very thing most others feared.
Bright florescent bulbs flickered to life above him, blinding the man in harsh streams of light. Blinking once, twice, he lifted his head, glowering with a sickly sweet smile dancing against blood red lips.
"Well, if it isn't the glorious Men In White here to give me a treat. Tell me, have you finally managed to capture one those elusive ghosts? Doubtful, as you barely seem capable of wielding those weapons at all."
His voice dripped with mockery, his fractured smile holding no sign of pleasure in its twisted expression. Yet they stood before him with folded arms and those silly little pristine suits.
One man stepped forward, sunglasses casting the prisoner's reflection back at him, showing him the sight of a horrendous little man with a long pointed nose and a cadaverous complexion. The first man lifted a remote, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he might smile.
"You'll take that statement back when you see what we have."
It's a taunt, plain and simple, and the man's hands tightened into fists against his shackles. He'd always been one for theatrics, but he didn't care to be the one forced to watch another's menial attempts at winning a crowd.
With a single press of a button, a large door slid open in the floor. From out of the depths a container ascended, and his attention was suddenly piqued. Leaning against his bindings, straining on the edge of his seat, he wondered briefly if this was how his own audience felt when he performed.
The tension in the room built as the container came to a halt with a heavy 'thud' that sent tremors racing through the floor. A similar light turned on above the cylindrical tube, allowing piercing red hues to stare inside.
He could not contain the shock that overtook his features, his jaw dropping and eyes widening, gaping at the ghost they'd succeeded in apprehending. Lydia. His sweet, manipulative Lydia. His first, his best, his most loyal.
Anger fueled him now, head ripping in the direction of the two men, their smug expressions the only thing he could see in his rage. How he would love to rip them to pieces, tearing and cutting and devouring their anguished cries. How dare they stand before him, before the greatest of his kind, and flaunt such a weak show of power. He should make them suffer, make them beg for mercy, make them-
No. He needed to relax. A steady breath in, a confident breath out. And a smile. A smile now drenched in venom and masked by mirth.
"Quite an accomplishment. Though I fail to see why I'm being shown such a thing?"
A question politely demanding an answer, and a look exchanged between the ridiculously clad men that had a sick smile twisting further at the corners.
"You are known for your knowledge on ghostly items."
One began, and he nodded ever so slowly.
"I tend to.. dabble."
"We want to know what you know about this."
The second barked out, holding out the same remote and pressing a different button. Red eyes shifted, watching as another hole, though smaller this time, slid open on the ground as a small pedestal began to rise. When it had risen entirely, he could practically feel himself drooling like a beast, unable to look away from what was in front of him.
"The Reality Gauntlet."
He breathed, mesmerized by the lights glinting off polished metal and gemstones set off to the side casting their colors across the room. It had been meticulously crafted, with four indentations carefully set into the metal. It was several moments later when he saw the triumphant smiles and he leaned back in his chair, resting bound hands in his lap while offering an indifferent shrug.
"Never heard of it."
Another exchanged look.
"We know how you envy ghosts, Freak."
The first one ground out, receiving a mere arched brow in question from the prisoner.
"We have reason to believe that this gauntlet has enough spectral power to eradicate ghosts forever."
"Oh?"
He asked, thin lips contorting with the sound as he blinked again in faux innocence. The second man scowled, striding forward with a manila folder clutched tightly in hand.
"Including this one."
Reaching inside, he pulled a photograph from its pages and thrust it forward, crimson orbs focusing on the child captured on film, his white hair and green eyes seeming to mock him even from the picture.
"Oh, you meant that reality gauntlet," He corrected, smiling once more with devious eyes staring at them intently as the gears began turning faster in his head. "I may know a thing or two about such a device."
No reaction comes from either man as the prisoner slowly lifted his hands, making a gesture to his bindings. Yet again the remote is produced, and the iron shackles are falling away with the simple push of a button. Rubbing at his wrists, the man rose, rolling his shoulders back as his black coat shifted against his slight frame.
"Such a gauntlet is quite rare, indeed. And while I may only know a few, trivial things, I do believe these gems play a rather interesting part."
Walking closer, a ghastly white hand stretched out, skeletal fingers brushing against the cool metal surface.
"Do you mind if I try it on?"
He turned to face them, limbs twitching in anticipation as he waited for them to speak. The hesitation is palpable in the air and he can hardly stand it, the waiting. He's so close now, so close to his revenge.
"Whatever, it doesn't work anyway."
He nearly missed the flippant response, the vague intrigue in the voice enough to draw that treacherous grin back again. A perfected showman's smile, and oh, was he about to give them a show.
"I do believe, as I said, that these gems play a part in such a device."
Reaching out, his fingers grasped the square jewel, its scarlet hue reflecting the shade of his eyes as he slipped it into the corresponding opening on the weapon.
"The red holds the power of life; giving sentience to anything you will it too."
The diamond shaped stone came next, the golden gem fitting perfectly in place above the first.
"The yellow grants form, allowing anything you wish to change and take a different shape."
They seemed only minutely impressed, their scowls remaining firmly in place as he picked up the third and final gem offered.
"And the blue, it offers the power of fantasy, the holder having the ability to turn any fantasy to reality with a mere thought."
The round stone fell as easily into place as the others, with only one jewel missing now.
"The three of these mean very little, but all together, they have the ability to control all of reality, though the gauntlet is powerless without its main source of power."
Several feet remain between the Men In White and himself, and he found his plan falling into place as easily as the stones had.
"A power source I just happen to have right here."
It's a flurry of movement, the two men watching in shock as Freakshow pulled his earring free, the red triangle falling into place with its three brothers as the gauntlet began to hum with power.
"Let's give you a little taste of what life can do, shall we?"
Freakshow laughed, his arm thrusting forward as the two men dove for their weapons. Such a futile attempt, however, as a blast of red light shot from the gauntlet, finding its way to a set of tubes connected to the machine holding his beloved servant.
Smoke began pouring from the sudden and violently disconnected lines, alarms blaring a warning as the pumps took on a life of their own and wrapped around the men in a snakelike manner. Freakshow let out another laugh, cold and chilling as he strode forward, staring down at the two struggling men. Nothing but ants wriggling about after consuming poison. He knelt, rummaging through the first man's pockets and accessing a key card.
"And you call yourselves ghost hunters."
He scoffed, stalking over to the blaring machine and sliding the card into its hole before pressing the release button beside it. The doors parted slowly as the ghost inside floated through the air and paused in front of the small ringmaster.
"Lydia."
He spoke, watching with pride as blood colored eyes pulled open and she knelt in front of him. She was such a sight to be seen, with spikes protruding from her head and tattoos covering a sickeningly radiant body.
She was far from beautiful, but her appearance was of little matter to him. No, it was her loyalty he cherished about her. The ghost pulled a tattered red hood over her head, hiding her ghoulish spikes and blood thirsty eyes as Freakshow turned, his gaze shifting from one man to the other.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."
Walking beside the ghost, he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at the miserable men as they struggled for their freedom, writhing around on the ground futilely.
"I'll be sure to tell the ghost child hello from you."
It's a final taunt thrown their direction as he sauntered out of the room, leaving the blaring alarms and their frantic shouts behind.
"Let us go home, Lydia." He said, his smile falling and a darker look replacing it. "We have much we must prepare for."