Chapter LXXVI
"That idiot! What was he thinking?!" Plasmius roared at her television, watching in horror as the explosion temporarily blinded the screen.
When it subsided, the Paper Shredder was lying on the ground, his ink black hair was now a dull grey color as was his black jumpsuit. The color change would fade away in time, and Plasmius' attention was drawn from the bothersome ghost as Samantha and Tucker sealed it inside a Fenton Thermos. Her attention could now be focused on Daniel, who received minor burns all across the front of his body. His ghost half was mostly to thank. A normal human would have died in the explosion, or worse; been left to suffer with agonizing third degree burns for the rest of their life.
The ghost woman observed Jack and Maddie Fenton watching over their son, comforting him until the paramedics arrived. She snorted in disgust at a motherly remark Maddie made to her son before he was taken away by ambulance.
Much like Walker, Plasmius had thought it necessary to install hidden cameras through the school. Her purpose was to hopefully gather blackmail material on young Daniel should he ever reveal her secret, but so far she had been unsuccessful in gathering any information that would assist her if that problem ever rose.
"For someone who's trying to ruin the boy's life," Skulker mused from behind her, "you display an unusual amount of compassion towards him."
Plasmius reverted back to her human form and stood from the couch. "I do wish to make him my son one day," Vanessa stated condescendingly. "A mother must worry about her children."
Skulker rolled his eyes, although the solid green optics were incapable of displaying the action. Vanessa, having spent countless hours in her partner's company, was well aware of Skulker's sarcastic silence. "If I were you," Skulker said as he ran several numbers through his processor, "I would go to him. He has likely been admitted to a hospital; a perfect opportunity to acquire more DNA."
Vanessa waved her arm dismissively. "His ghost half is still infected with that ghost monster's venom. Any samples of DNA taken from him at this point would be useless."
Skulker crossed his arms. "Very well. I am going then."
Vanessa looked at Skulker as if his flaming Mohawk had suddenly become a rainbow colored afro. "Why?"
"This has obviously affected my niece on an emotional level," the mercenary explained. "It is my duty as a relative to ensure her stability."
Vanessa glared at Skulker, trying to discern if the hulking robot of a ghost was hiding any ulterior motives. The face of the cybernetic battle suit stared back indifferently. The stare-off allowed Skulker to do several more calculations.
"The longer you keep me here, the longer Wulf's venom stays in Daniel's bloodstream. If it is not removed, it will eventually cross over to his human half and kill him. I may be able to assist him in doing so."
Vanessa sighed. "Please do not worsen the situation. Your presence has been known to exacerbate problems in the past."
Skulker thought about replying, but after consulting his motherboard, decided against it. He floated off the ground and became intangible before flying away.
Danny's eyes strained to remain shut. The voices insisted that he open them, but there was too much light on the other side of his eyelids. Opening them would be very, very painful. And besides, the voices were hardly ever right; always fighting amongst themselves and whatnot. It was maddening.
But then Danny realized that the voices were not coming from inside his head. They were coming from around him. They were unfamiliar voices, mostly. Occasionally a familiar tune would echo around him, but the strange voices quickly overlapped them. Finally the words started to make sense.
"He's awake," a man said calmly. "I just can't get him to open his eyes to check his pupils to see if they are dilating properly."
"But he is alright?"
Mom!
The stranger chuckled. "Mrs. Fenton, believe me when I say the worst has passed. He is one lucky boy to still be able to be pronounced alive, if what I've heard is true."
"Every word of it," said another familiar voice.
Dad! Wait a minute . . . pronounced alive?
That can only be done in a hospital!
ESCAPE! YOU MUST FLEE! IF THEY TAKE YOUR BLOOD, YOUR SECRET WILL BE UNCOVERED!
Unlikely. The ectoplasm in your bloodstream will be ignored as minor contamination. If they do test you, your parents will insist on treating you at home where you can fake going through the procedure as you have countless times before.
Danny almost grinned. Those voices, as annoying as they could be, were becoming extremely helpful.
The boy heard the sound of a pen scribbling on paper. "You can all visit him for a while, but I'll have to come in here in about an hour to see if he wants to open his eyes."
"Thank you, doctor," Maddie said calmly as the man left the room. His footsteps grew fainter as the man made his way to another wing of the hospital.
"Mom? Dad?" Danny's voice was hoarse and it was slightly painful to talk. But the shuffling of feet into the room indicated that his call did not go unanswered.
"We're here, son," Jack said quietly. "How are you feeling?"
"Well, I've been better," Danny tried to joke, but his chest shuddered as a very painful cough worked its way out of Danny's mouth.
"Just rest, sweetie," Maddie said, brushing some of Danny's hair out of his eyes.
"Mmm, can you turn these lights off? I was going to let the doctor do the pupil test thing, but it was just too bright." The lights went out before he finished the sentence.
"Better?" Jazz asked hopefully.
Danny smiled. "Tons. Thanks Jazz." Danny let his eyes open slowly. The image was blurry at first, but the worried faces of his family quickly came into focus. "I'm sorry," Danny finally said after his vision had cleared completely.
"Sorry?" Jack repeated. "Sorry for what? You beat that ghost so bad, he's the one who should be in a hospital!"
"Yeah, but it was dumb of me to try something like that. I mean, I'm just a kid, I could've been killed."
Jazz looked at her brother with a smile. "Its good that you're accepting your limitations as a human being," she said warmly.
Danny thought about rolling his eyes, but figured it would be painful. "But I wailed on him, right?" Danny looked up at his father with hopeful eyes.
"I just wish I was as ambitious as you when I was your age," Jack said, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'm so proud!"
Danny grinned evilly at Jazz, who sighed and shook her head. "Where are Tucker and Sam?"
"They're waiting outside," Maddie answered. "They thought we should see you first. I thought that was silly; they're like the brother and sister you never had!"
Jazz cleared her throat and looked at her mother with a raised eyebrow. "Well the younger brother and sister you never had."
Danny smiled weakly. "Sam is older than me."
Maddie furrowed her brow. Danny chuckled, but that brought on another coughing fit.
"Do you want us to send them in?" Jack asked.
Danny nodded and said his goodbyes to his family. Jack's hug was neither bone-crushing nor painful, for which Danny was thankful. After they had cleared out, Sam entered the room.
"Hey Danny," she said, avoiding his gaze. "Feeling better?"
"Well since I'm not stuck in a perpetual fireball of exploding ectoplasm, yeah, I'm doing pretty well. How are you holding up?"
Sam pulled up a chair and sat down, finally looking Danny in the eyes. "Not as good."
"Why's that?"
"It's my fault you blew up to begin with!" she exclaimed.
Danny thought about what she meant before the realization set in. She was the one who handed him the flamethrower. "Yeah, I guess it is your fault."
Sam's shocked expression softened upon seeing Danny's smile. She playfully smacked his arm. "If I had known that your parents programmed self-destruct sequences in all their weapons, I wouldn't have given it to you."
"I don't think you'd have smuggled it into school in your book bag either," Tucker said from the doorway.
"There you are," Sam said accusingly. "Where have you been?"
"Hot interns," Tucker replied with a knowing smile. Then, with a sing-song voice, "I got numbers!"
"How did you manage that?" Danny and Sam said in unison.
Tucker looked down. "Well when you're the friend of the guy who got, like, a million paper cuts all over his body, you're entitled to a few benefits."
Danny rolled his eyes, risking the pain. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt.
"So wow, dude, that Paper Shredder guy," Tucker started as he came into the room and pulled up a chair next to Sam. "He was pretty neat-o, huh?"
"I really hope you're kidding," Danny said with an edge to his voice.
"Relax, dude," Tucker said as he typed away on his PDA. "He was annoying as hell, sure, but how many ghosts just control paper all willy-nilly like that?"
"The Box Ghost controls boxes all willy-nilly like that," Sam mocked. "Why does power over paper amaze you?"
"I don't know," Tucker responded finally. "It's just that we live in the age of technology. You'd think ghosts would come out with more powers like that Technus fella."
Danny pointed his finger at Tucker's head and fired a weak ghost ray that slapped Tucker's beret off his head. Pain worse than anything he had ever felt before rocketed from his stomach to the rest of his body, nearly knocking him out.
"Danny!" Sam hissed through a whisper. "Don't do that! You're going to hurt yourself!"
The ghost boy watched as Tucker's had landed neatly on a table right next to a long array of syringes. Tucker froze; his phobia of needles overcoming him.
"That," Danny drew a ragged breath, "was definitely worth it."
Clockwork found his limitless amounts of time to be quite boring. Being the master of time, one would assume that Clockwork could see all the amazing things that time had to offer; the past, the future, and all the ways time could have unfolded. Even though his essence being that of time itself already presented this knowledge to him telepathically, Clockwork had taken this suggestion in the hopes that the experiencing the events firsthand would give him a deeper understanding of time, space and the universe.
Sadly, it did not. That option was already exploited and, after untold millennia traversing time and space, the master of time returned to his castle to find that nothing had changed, as was expected. His castle existed outside of time, and was not bound to the same laws as the rest of the universe. One fraction of a second after he had left on his time-spanning journey, Clockwork had returned to his castle. That was, according to the progression of the outside world as related to him by his appointed Observants, five hundred years ago. Speaking of those meddlesome specters . . .
Clockwork turned around on the spot just as two figures appeared before him. The first floated to his right and dressed in regal attire while still keeping in compliance with the Observant High Council's parameters for operational appearance. The second hovered to his left. This one dressed in strange futuristic garments which appeared to be the later model of his companion's clothing. After recalling his visit to this tangent's future, he noted that was, indeed, the case.
"Clockwork," the first Observant spoke. "We are here on behalf of the High Council. They have encountered a matter that requires your immediate attention."
Clockwork nodded, having known everything the ghost was going to say before the Observant himself knew. Clockwork knew everything that was about to happen before it happened. He knew about everything that which had already transpired as well.
As far as he was concerned, there were only two things he didn't know. The first was why the Observants continued to treat him as if he didn't already know everything. The second was why he didn't know the first issue.
Clockwork followed the Observants over to one of his many gear-themed monitors. The castle was very high-tech, despite its appearance. Each monitoring device utilized Clockwork's telepathic connection to the fabric of time to pinpoint whatever event he chose to witness. The technology only worked for a being that could also control time, which is why the Observants were able to operate the technology as well.
Clockwork had a comprehensive knowledge of time and all its possibilities. The Observants were limited in their view of the time stream. They could see the past as it had occurred, whereas Clockwork could see the past as it had occurred and how it could have been. Clockwork could see all the possible ways the present could unravel into the future, but the Observants were able to pinpoint which path the present was currently taking. It was one advantage they held over him. Or so they thought.
Clockwork was somewhat limited in this way, but his insight never failed him in correctly reading the future. The Observants knew this, but always wished to show Clockwork the exact path the current timeline was traveling on. They never came to him unless there was a problem, and even then he never acted upon it.
"A ghost has come to the present from the future. At first we believed it to be you, as the temporal warp signature was identical to yours."
Clockwork raised an eyebrow and felt his corporeal form waver and shift out of focus. Upon returning to normal, Clockwork found he was now an infant version of himself. The purple baby face would have been considered adorable by many if not for the menacing solid red eyes and the scar that decorated the side of his face.
"You are incorrect," Clockwork stated, his normal voice emanated from his infant form's mouth. "This ghost did not arrive in the present. He came out of his journey too early, twenty years prior to his objective."
"Twenty years?" the second Observant piqued. "Is that a coincidence?"
Clockwork's form again shifted, returning him to his original age. "Hardly."
"Whatever the case may be," the first Observant cut off what could have resulted in an argument. "This ghost is now acting on your mistake, Clockwork."
The master of time chuckled. "And what mistake would that be? According to you and your arrogant Council, I've broken every rule you've ever made and made every conceivable mistake you can comprehend. Which one of these ghosts of my past have come back to haunt me now?"
The first Observant floated closer, the large eyeball that was the ghost's head squinted in obvious displeasure. "Your greatest mistake to date; in allowing Danny Phantom to live all those months ago, you have condemned not only this universe, but very multiverse to horrors so unfathomable, it is heresy to speak them. That one future you said – nay, promised us would never transpire has become an inevitability."
So that was it, Clockwork thought as he rubbed his scar thoughtfully.
"You have forgotten one thing, Reginald. The future has not transpired. What will happen remains to be seen." Clockwork looked into the monitor that depicted Earth twenty years into the future. It was not pretty. "Go to your masters, you and K'rdon. Tell them that future will not happen. I will make sure of it."
"This is your last chance," Reginald threatened.
Clockwork turned to face them. All the times he failed to predict the future could be counted on one hand. The second metaphorical finger was raised now.
"Or what?"
"The High Council has agreed unanimously that you are too great a risk to be left to your own devices," Reginald replied sardonically.
"Should you choose to ignore this coming storm, the Council will not hesitate to eliminate you," K'rdon continued.
"The Council has decided that if you place the future at risk, the Ghost Writer will be used to its full power against you." It didn't take a master of time to deduce the satisfaction in Reginald's voice. "Even you are powerless against its might."
To that claim, Clockwork had no reply. There were no time themed puns he could throw at them to make them leave in a disgruntled mood. They had won this argument. And while Clockwork despised doing anything to alter time, he had promised the race of eyeball-headed ghouls that the one future that terrified them the most would never happen. And here it was, ready to come to pass in the blink of an eye.
Clockwork pointed his scepter at the door of his lair. The Observants took the hint and gracefully teleported away. He was not angry. The Observants acted through fear; an emotion felt by all living things. If Clockwork felt fear, he would probably act rashly out of self preservation as well. But those googly-eyed freaks would be damned to Pariah's Keep if they thought they could threaten him with a reality-altering super weapon. The master of time sighed. It was time to get to work.
To Be Continued
A/N: WHOA! How about all that, huh? Pretty crazy stuff. Clockwork in more depth, those two annoying Observants with names, and the Ghost Writer. I think I'll wind up making a lot of people angry with the Ghost Writer. Oh well.
I don't know if all of you noticed, but I recently added a poll. And about an hour after I made it, I was able to figure out how polls work . . . hmm. Anyway, you can check it out in my profile if you'd like. For fans of this story, it is highly recommended that you do. I won't go into details, but this particular poll may have something to do with the upcoming Reality Wars bit I mentioned earlier. So yeah . . . have fun with that.
As usual, I'd like to thank my reviewers, especially Fulcon, slyfoxx, Begotten Hero, Bloxham, Belthasar, darkbunny92, Adran06, and MissMeliss4251.
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