Dead Men Walking

Chapter CIX

Danny noticed that, in recent times, it did not take much to get him angry. Before it had taken an hours-long battle with no winner in sight to get his blood boiling, now it only took a single punch to get him agitated. An enemy used to have to chatter endlessly for the duration of a battle to get him annoyed. Now it barely took a single ambiguous phrase to get his temper flaring. The little things were turning into much bigger things. But was that really so bad? His anger had saved him plenty of times in battle. Sure, collateral damage tended to be worse, but at least the bad guy was gone.

It was no surprise to Danny that he felt his anger rising once he entered the skies over Amity Park. The wreckage of the Terror Tower was easy enough to see from his height. Someone had destroyed a landmark in his town, his territory. Whoever they were, they'd pay. Dearly.

"Phantom!" The call came from somewhere behind him and, as he was flying over a mile above the ground below, thusly ruled out the population of the entire world save one. Phantom slowed his pace to allow Valerie to catch up with him. "Where have you been?!"

Phantom looked at her with his lie on the tip of his tongue. The sight of her stopped him. "Valerie? What happened to you?" His surprise came from her appearance. Where her athletic and somewhat scantily clad uniform had once been was now a suit of body armor that looked like it came from a video game. Her face was completely exposed.

"The Guys in White recruited me to help out with the rescue op. Stuck me in this thing for my own safety," she rolled her eyes. "They're looking for you. Wanted to make sure you didn't do it."

"How could I have done this?" Phantom exclaimed as he thrust his hand at the pillar of smoke. "I was in Colorado!"

Valerie looked at him strangely. "What were you doing in Colorado?"

FOOL!

Shut your mouth you damnable barbarian!

"Both of you shut up!" Phantom growled angrily.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

Quickly! Tell her something to cover your foolishness! You nearly revealed your human half to her!

"I'm working on it!"

"Working on what?" Valerie asked exasperatedly. "Who are you talking to?"

"I'm so sorry; my others are acting up again. You met them before, right?"

"You mean the two other you's? The pointy guy and the fat one?"

HEY!

"Yeah. They were quiet all the way here, but now, when I'm trying to have a conversation, they start being annoying." Phantom palmed the side of his head.

"So why were you in Colorado?"

"Well honestly, that's none of your business." Danny saw the imploring, puppy-dog face the Huntress was giving him and he sighed. "If you must know, I was fighting for my life against a man-bat clone of myself. After I beat him, I left before my arch nemesis could find me and finish the job."

Silence. Then, "Really?"

"Yeah. That's pretty much an average day for me."

"Huh. Well that's cool."

The two teens hovered in place, looking around at the sky, the city, birds, clouds – anything but each other. Phantom struggled to think of something to say, but small talk topics seemed to have failed him.

Since when did you fall back into the pathetic cycle of awkward silences with females? There's plenty to talk about; the world is under siege! I'm disappointed in you, Daniel, you two nearly mated!

Ok we did not mate, Einstein, we dated. And it was for, like, two weeks. We never got anywhere near . . . you know, that stuff.

He is saving himself for Samantha! Don't try to use your Webster's Dictionary lexicon to confuse the boy's feelings!

Lexicon?! Mien gott! You actually used a word above an eighth grade level in a sentence! Have you been influencing the chemical balance in Daniel's body in an attempt to give you a linguistic advantage over me in conversation?

. . . Maybe.

Speaking of Sam . . ."Val? I need to check in with the Fentons."

"Thought you were in a coma there for a second," Valerie grumbled. "Why do you need to see them? Don't they hate you?"

"Probably. But given the circumstances, I think they'd be willing to hear me out, especially since I plan to help." He paused to rub the back of his neck. "I just hope they don't overreact."

"Jasmine, between your stammering and having Samantha fill in most of your sentences, you'd think I'd have a terrible overreaction to this."

Jazz looked from her mother to Sam and back again. "Can you really blame us?"

"No, I suppose not," Maddie rubbed her chin in thought. "It's not like your father and I ever talked about inviting Inviso-Bill over for dinner. Still, we've had our suspicions ever since the meat monster incident. When Shadow Phantom showed up we started second guessing ourselves, but I guess we were right all along."

"So why didn't you ever confront Danny with it?" Sam asked. "I mean if you knew, or at least thought you might know, why not just ask him?"

"I guess it was for the same reason Danny never came to us. We wanted him to trust us enough to come forward and tell us about Phantom. In the beginning, we weren't exactly sure what to think. Was Phantom a ghost friend Danny picked up? Was he using Danny to get to us? We had no idea, and now that I think about it, we never gave Phantom any reason to like us."

"He wanted you to trust both sides of him," Jazz said.

"Exactly. He wanted a certain amount of trust for his other side." She sighed heavily. "And we never gave him a chance."

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Fenton," Sam offered. "How were you supposed to know?"

"Danny came to us before, asking us to leave Phantom alone or not to hurt him," Maddie continued. "This was back when Jack and I thought Danny and Phantom might be friends. And now I see that Danny was trying to take the first step toward establishing a bond between us and Phantom. And we completely ignored him."

"Uh, is this a bad time?" The three women in the Fenton's family room quickly looked to the source of the voice. Floating in the doorway was none other than Phantom himself. "I can, y'know, come back later?"

"Where's your father?" Maddie asked in a casual tone, masking the tone of remorse that had been creeping into her words.

"I think he should be o-" Phantom's eyes widened. "O . . . p-q-r . . . ree . . . referred to as . . . uh, Danny's father . . . ?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Wow. With cover like that, it's astounding you've managed to keep your identity a secret for so long."

"What the hell is going on here?!" Phantom shouted.

"Well you being grounded for using language like that is what's going to happen first, young man," Maddie said sternly.

"Before you go on give me a chance to explain, little brother," Jazz butted in. "We know you've been going through a lot lately, but me, Sam, Tucker and Mr. Falluca aren't going to be able to help you bear the burden of your battles forever, especially if Terror Tower is any indication of the future."

Phantom lowered himself to the ground slowly. "This . . . this is . . . oh man."

"Danny, your father and I have had our suspicions about your connection to Phantom for some time. I know we have a lot to talk about, but right now I just want you to know that you . . . you're my son. You always have been and you always will be. Nothing is going to change the fact that I love you."

DON'T YOU DARE CRY!

He can cry if he wants to! This is . . . this is very sentimental!

Y-YOU! YOU'RE CRYING!

We're extensions of Daniel's psyche, we share his experiences and . . . OH GAWD, MOMMY! I LOVE YOU TOO!

TOOL! We're not supposed to share in his weakness, only . . . only his . . . his . . . BAWWWW! MOMMY! I LOVE YOU!

Phantom couldn't help but smile at the antics of his voices, even as tears of relief and joy began to stream down his face. Were they really crying inside his head? Maybe they were trying to alleviate some of the tension. As Phantom ran into his mother's open arms, transforming back into Danny in the process, he realized that neither of the two was trying to prevent this unusual display of emotion. Anger was eventually tempered, sadness was eventually lifted, and depression was eventually lightened. Eventually. Perhaps they knew that, eventually, Danny would have to open the floodgates. All his bottled up stress and fear would eventually have to be turned on the only two people in the world who could handle it; his mother and father. While not as vocal as the voices in his mind, the silent tears and hushed sniffles were more than enough of an expression. Danny Fenton's house was now his home.

A push in the right direction?

Yes. All that we've done for him so far; I've had my concerns about the repercussions. This, however, is a sure thing. He's needed this for a long time.

Well not to give you a heart attack, but for once, I whole heartedly agree with you.

Good.

You're sure he can't hear us in here?

Daniel's subconscious is our private playground, my brother. We are safe to discuss what we wish without fear of jeopardizing-

No! We cannot be sure. Some day, he will master the entirety of his mind, body and soul. If he discovers what has transpired here, our punishment will be much more grievous than it would be already.

Grievous? How many big words do you plan to incorporate into your vocabulary before Daniel comes to suspect you?

For our private conversations, as many as I can muster up.

Very well. As you know, some of Daniel's abilities have already manifested much earlier than anticipated. Electroplasm was the first, and his foray into the manipulation of vegetation and theatmosphere was a success.

Without our influence, that would not have been possible.

Perhaps. The very serious truth is that Daniel has begun travelling down the road-most-feared four years earlier than expected, and now that he has the capability to use the Ghostly Wail, his descent to evil may be so much closer than even our sources can predict.

Speaking of which, what information has come in from . . . outside?

Communication with our fused form in Walker's subconscious mind has revealed something to give Daniel a powerful advantage against his rebellious son. The consequences of this in the future are unknown, but we cannot allow Walker to send Daniel into a downward spiral.

You are using one of Daniel's powers without his permission?

Yes. His telepathy is quite useful for the task.

Let's just hope this doesn't backfire. Your plans of hiding Daniel's powers from him has "bad idea" written all over it.

It won't backfire. But now we need to commune with someone to ensure the death of the planet doesn't happen.

Who?

You're going to love this . . .

"What? What? Maddie, I can't hear you. The reception at this place is horrible. I'll call you as soon as I get a cab, alright? What? Yeah, I'll try to hurry. Is something wrong? O-Ok. Ok. I'll get there as soon as possible. Love you too. Buh-bye."

Jack Fenton snapped his phone shut and hurried from the McDonald's to the baggage claim. Half way between his Big Mac and the rest of his milkshake, Jack realized that he had been unceremoniously dropped out of an airplane and was given passage to Amity International Airport on a private helicopter with nothing but the clothes on his back.

"I would forget something that important," the man mumbled to himself as he changed directions andmade a beeline for the escalators to the ground floor. "Forget your daughter at school after her first day of kindergarten, forget your son's first tee-ball game, forget your tenth anniversary – you'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to you."

Being one of the largest cities in the world made Amity Park was also one of the most crowded. Go figure. It wasn't unexpected, but having just returned from the forests of Colorado – with a decided absence of other human beings – made the sudden reintroduction to massive crowds something of an unpleasant experience. Most people would be able to say that being annoyed by something annoying is, in and of itself, annoying. To Jack Fenton, bustling crowds and the chore of having to wade through them was annoying. Being in the presence of this annoying situation was annoying the bulky man further.

Fortunately, a man in a suit with a large square sign that read JACK FENTON was standing very near the exit once Jack managed to fling himself from the boisterous throng of human beings. That helped greatly in relieving Jack's irritability. Another thing that annoyed him was having to find a cab coming from the airport.

"Hello Mr. Fenton," the man said once Jack was within earshot. "I've been waiting for a while. I was growing worried.

Something about the driver felt awfully suspect to Jack. The stranger was easily a head shorter (but then, so were a lot of people). His voice, though, resonated with an almost metallic deepness; almost as if it belonged to someone much larger. But his suspicion regarding this man was set aside for the moment. The unusual aura that Jack detected was not necessarily a suspicious-bad one, and there really was no reason to accuse him of some wrong doing. Besides, he was getting this ride for free.

"Well I, uh, sorta forgot that I didn't have any luggage."

"Ah. Understandable. Please get in; your cab is right here."

Jack looked up and fully took in the vehicle sitting in front of him; a massive, blue Peterbilt truck with red flame decals. "Is the cab on the other side of the truck?"

"No," the driver replied as he poked his head through the passenger window. "This is the cab."

Jack rubbed his chin, but climbed into the truck. "Sorry, it's a joke I picked up from when I used to work for someone else."

"No, it's – don't worry about it." Jack looked at the interior of the truck. It was so . . . clean.

"So mister . . . ?"

"Cullen," the driver replied without skipping a beat. "Peter Cullen."

"Right. Mr. Cullen. Vanessa has an interesting taste in chauffeurs . . ."

"I'm not under Miss Masters' payroll," Mr. Cullen replied. His tone was almost resentful.

Jack began to grow nervous. "So where are you taking me?"

"Back to your family, don't worry. I trust you've heard what happened there?"

"No, what?" "Oh my," Mr. Cullen sighed. "I'm afraid Amity Park's Terror Tower was destroyed."

"What?!" "Please Mr. Fenton, don't panic. Your family is safe. The criminal responsible has been apprehended by the Guys in White."

Jack slumped back in his seat. "Thank God."

"We'll be there within the hour. The traffic is surprisingly sparse, considering the situation."

Jack sighed with relief. "Mind if I turn on the radio?"

"No, go right ahead," Mr. Cullen replied.

Jack pressed several incorrect buttons before finding the right one. An a.m. channel began to play through the speakers. " – that all drivers reroute from Main Street to avoid subsequent detours. You can safely maneuver around the crisis area by –" Jack looked from the radio to the driver. The man speaking on the channel sounded exactly like Mr. Cullen.

"Is this being broadcast live?" Jack asked. In hindsight, it was a rather dumb question.

"I hope so," Mr. Cullen replied as he flicked off the radio. His deep, resonating voice lacked some of its metallic luster, as if he was distracted.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to accelerate to speeds well beyond what most people would consider safe. It is imperative that I get you to your family."

"O-oh, well ok, I guess. I-" Jack was cut off midsentence as he felt the truck, lacking more descriptive language, explode from its easy forty-five miles per hour to somewhere in the neighborhood of ninety. Is body was slammed into the seat, not having had enough time to adjust. Jack wasn't able to make out the exact speed, as the corners of his vision began to blur.

"We'll make much better time now," Mr. Cullen announced. Having regained his bearings, Jack turned to look at the driver. He appeared unfazed by the vehicle's speed. The larger man thought he was hallucinating when Mr. Cullen's body flickered several times before disappearing altogether.

"W-what?! What the - !"

"We're nearly at your home. Perhaps your son can enlighten you better than I can." The voice was much louder now, and it was coming from the truck itself!

Several more seconds of riding in the unmanned vehicle got the gears in Jack's mind turning. The truck was obviously haunted! What other explanation was there? But then, why did the ghost responsible go through so much trouble to lure him inside this truck? And was he really being led back to his family? As if to answer his question, the truck skidded to an abrupt halt, spinning to slow its deceleration even more. The seatbelt unfastened by itself and the passenger door flung open, spilling Jack onto the sidewalk just outside his home. Sweet, sweet concrete. Jack thanked whatever benevolent presence had allowed him to arrive home safely, especially after the ride he had just endured. He heard the door to his house open and looked up with a winning smile, but it quickly transformed into shock. His house in bad shape, and that was an understatement. Something big had happened here. Before he could examine it any further, Sam, Jazz and Maddie quickly headed outside. Next to Maddie, and floating in the air, was Phantom.

"What's going on?" Jack asked worriedly.

"Dad," Phantom said. Jack gasped. "I, uh, there's something we need to talk about."

"And you'll have plenty of time to talk about it later," the truck said from behind. The five people turned their attention to the vehicle, dropping everything else for the moment. "Right now, we have some more pressing matters to attend to."

And the five humans stood in wonder as the Peterbilt truck began to change.

To Be Continued

A/N: First things first, I hate Twilight. I must applaud the writer, though, for exploiting the "omg magic!" gap left in Harry Potter's wake along with the "my parents don't wuv/understand me!" wave that most tweens are riding on these days. Besides, the guy's like, what, a few hundred years old trapped in the body of a mediocre actor and he's going after teenage girls? Does anyone else hear that? That's your pedo-bear detector going off. I hate stuff like this. Really, I do. That doesn't mean I hate you if you like it, but don't expect even a mentioning of Twilight in this story. You'll be hearing from actual vampires, like Dracula or Morbius or someone along those lines.

Why did I just go off on a tangent like that unprovoked? Because of the name of the mysterious truck's holographic person. If you haven't figured it out, I'm disappointed in you. Like, really. Peter Cullen is the name of the man who voiced Optimus Prime in the original cartoon and again in the 2007 movie. He's reprising the role for Revenge of the Fallen, and has done other work, like narrating the early Voltron cartoon. He's also the Don Lafontaine of Cartoon Network. Do NOT get Peter Cullen and Edward Cullen confused. There is no relation. I hold the former in the highest esteem. The latter isn't even real.

Sigh

So, now that I've sufficiently scared some of you away, let me apologize and get on with it. Prime isn't gonna be here for the duration of this segment. He just . . . rolled on by! HAAHAHAHHAA – ok, but really, he's just there to relay some info before he goes somewhere else before returning for the Reality Wars.

I forgot to do this last chapter, and she definitely deserves it. This chapter was a wreck before Cordria beta-ed it. I think I might be losing my touch. (sad face). Hopefully I'll turn it around. So thank you, Cordria, for helping me.

Keep your eyes peeled for a new chapter of Redemption, a story that I'm writing on the side. Let me know what you think of it. But, you know, not here. Over there, with a review for that story.

Not much else I can think of. Stop by DeviantArt to see some artwork that myself and other talented artists have concocted. You can tell me if there's anyone in particular that you want to see.

Reviews! I got quite a few for the last chapter. Special thanks goes out to Cordria, Billy D., Pterodactyl, Vorago Risus, darkness over day, cdunn2010, MasterChiefSamus117, Chemical Brain, Lockblade, Fulcon, darkbunny92, alienphantom, gadrak-the-forbidden-one, The Golden Hat, gwen araujo, Lightning Streak, and Darth Azrael.

YOU CAN HAVE WHATEVER YOU LIKE – Great song (I like the beat), should be adopted as Burger King's temporary slogan, along with ridiculous music videos featuring The King in a viral youtube marketing ploy . . . didn't these used to be a lot shorter?