Wow, it's been forever since I updated. But the plan (hope) is to get this done by summer. Ten more chapters after this one. Cross your fingers. Also, this whole story has been edited/updated. You don't have to re-read, but if you do and want to shower me with compliments, feel free.
Short summary of what's happened so far that is important:
-Danny gets captured and thrown into the Pits, where he has been forced to kill both ghosts and humans to survive.
-There is a mysterious ghost rat named L'Jai who is behind him being in the Pits and (strangely) is also behind his (perhaps) future rescue. We're not sure what his plan is yet.
-There is another human character named Former who is being forced to work in the Pits because his younger brother (Mica) is being held captive.
-There are three portals in the Pits that the secret 'key' can open: one to the ghost zone that is used every day, one to the human world, and one to L'Jai's ancient city.
-There is a rebellion brewing, led by Skulker, who has just contacted Danny's family in an attempt to save him.
-Danny doesn't want to fight anymore. He gave up on his life, his opponent (a ghost named Shiva) attacked, and everything went black.
Pits
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria
Page 11
The next thing I knew, I was back in my cell. "No!" I yelled, yanking at my black hair, tears springing into my eyes at the pain. "No, no, no, no, no!"
I spun around, taking in the dreary stone walls, the ghost spiders crawling in the corners, the blackened cell door, the skittering ghost lights, and the battered (and still broken) cot. I screamed as loudly as I could, dropping down to my knees. Power built up inside of me and cascaded into my voice even though I was human, spectral energy blazing outwards and echoing around the tiny cell.
Finally, completely spent, my head dropped down and my stomach felt like it fallen through the floor. "I don't want to do this," I whispered hoarsely. "I don't want to do this anymore. Why can't it just be over?"
A voice whispered through the cell. "You have to fight again."
I shook my head sourly, not really questioning where the voice was coming from. It made an odd sort of sense: something had stopped me from dying in that fight, and now it wanted to talk. "No, I don't."
"You have to fight," the voice reaffirmed. "There's nothing left for you to do."
I looked up. Sitting on the shattered remains of the cot Walker had destroyed yesterday was that small black rat. Its bright blue gaze fixed on mine, an odd look in its eyes. It was stupid to think the rat had been the one that had talked, but I asked it a question anyways. "Why?"
"Simple. Walker's power comes from people giving in to him, and he loses power when people fight him." The rat's mouth was moving, the words coming, but my brain really couldn't comprehend the fact that the rat was talking. "You need to fight; there isn't anybody else powerful enough to do what needs to be done. Besides, what other option do you really have? You seem to fight even if you don't want to."
Gazing at him morosely, I just shook my head and sat on the cold floor. For the moment, I couldn't dredge up anything but the depressing feeling of complete failure.
"And now that I'm here to help you," the rat continued, "we can do this." It was extremely odd to see a rat smile. "My name, as you may know, is L'Jai."
I blinked at it, unable to come up with an answer. Distantly, I remembered the hallucinated rat that had brought me chicken soup. That, however, had been not real in a sense. This… this was something different. It couldn't be possible that the ghost was really here, however it seemed hard to believe that I was still hallucinating.
The rat jumped off the cot and scampered over to me, resting its front paws on my knee. "It's long past time that we talked, hybrid. I was afraid you were going to lose your fight. Everything we've been working towards would have been for naught."
"I don't want to fight anymore," I rasped, staring down at my fingers. I couldn't remember the fight with Shiva, but I had no doubt that the ghost was dead. Dead because of me.
"You have to…"
"I know I have to," I snapped, "I just don't want to anymore. I'm sick of killing, I'm sick of fighting, I'm sick of all of this!" I jumped to my feet and gestured around the small cell, uncaring as the small black rat squeaked and backed away from me. "I've been stuck in a prison cell, being fed almost nothing for five weeks. I'm bored and I'm tired and I'm sick and I'm hungry and I'm alone and I'm scared and all I want is for this to be over and I can't even do that!" Running my hands through my hair, I sighed. "Can you get that, rat? I just want this to be done."
The rat's voice was soft. "At the expense of your life?"
My shoulders slumped. "Do you have a better idea?"
"Freedom. Rescue. A chance to go home."
I stared down at my toes and didn't answer. How would you feel, reader, if someone just suddenly showed up out of nowhere to give you a ticket out of Hell? More than likely you'd feel the same way as me: it's too good to be true.
But I wasn't cynical or gone enough to not hope. A tiny piece of my heart jumped at the thought of being free and desperately wanted to trust the small rat with the glowing blue eyes. "How?" I asked, my voice raw and untrusting.
A cold paw touched my leg and I glanced into the eyes of the rat. "You need to have faith, hybrid."
"Faith in what?" I spat back, my eyes narrowing.
"Faith in the fact that everything will be better. Rescue is coming. Hope is coming." It blinked up at me. "You can't die yet. There's a rebellion brewing. Pieces are in motion. We can destroy everything; not just Walker, not just ruin a few fights, but everything the Pits stands for and is."
"Those are fancy words for a rodent," I whispered. I pulled my foot away from its paw and turned around to stalk to across my small cell. "Prove it."
" Walker lost his knife. We gave it to you."
I froze, staring at the wall. Maybe he's telling the truth… I viciously squashed the thought and started counting the bricks to keep the thoughts out of my head. One, two, three…
"His knife is the key to the Pits. You can open any door with it, you know. Even the one keeping you in this room."
Seven, eight, nine… My eyes flashed to the lose brick next to the door where I'd hidden Walker's bloody knife. Seriously? I could… No. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…
"You can leave this room with it, no problem, but you'll never escape the Pits. Not on your own. There are too many guards for you to fight, too many people in the way, too many things holding you back."
I listened, staring blankly at the wall, unable to count anymore. Could it be that the rat really was offering this to me? Could this be my chance to be free?
"Work with me, hybrid. I can teach you to use those blades. I can teach you skills that have been lost for centuries. I can make you powerful enough to have the chance to escape, and I can get you the allies you need to destroy this place and be free of it forever."
My breath was loud in my throat, my over-long black hair dangling in my eyes, my fingernails cutting painfully into my skin. Can I trust a rat?
"Stay and wait, live and fight. You've got the key to your freedom, now let me give you the means."
Can you afford to not trust him? a voice whispered in my mind.
I shut my eyes, thinking. This seemed too elaborate for one of Walker's traps. Why would he go through all of this just to trick me? Add that on top of the fact that I had nothing left to lose and no real plan on how to survive this place, and the answer was staring me straight in the face. I was going to trust a rat. "Fine," I said.
Nobody answered. I twisted around, studying the messy remains of my cot and the rest of my empty, dreary cell. I groaned. Nothing was there.
Was I hallucinating again?
I've gotten used to sleeping on hard surfaces and, to be honest, the 'cot' hadn't been much more comfortable than the floor. It took awhile, but I fell asleep. My dreams twinkled in my mind like distant stars, cold and bright, as I tumbled into the pits of my nightmares.
Shiva's fist was right in front of me, split seconds from slamming into my head and potentially spilling my ectoplasmic brains all over the ground. Her knuckles crashed into a glowing green shield that sprang up, unbidden, right before my nose. Her attack was so close that I could hear the faint crack of splintering bones as her hand collided with the unmoving, crackling barrier.
My body was moving. Instantly backpedaling away from the insane female, my hands came up into a defensive block. The sparkling blades glittered in the glaring lights of the arena and the screams and laughter of the crowd watching our battle seemed to fade away. My eyes flashed upwards and around me for the moment of peace that I had, catching sight of four ghosts in long, green cloaks. But I couldn't hesitate to watch them; Shiva was moving.
Adrenaline coursed through me, heightening my reflexes and making everything crystal clear. Shiva shook her hand even as she stalked after me, her eyes flashing and flaring with an internal fire. "Phantom," she hissed, her words smoldering.
Suddenly she attacked again, her fists flying. My body ducked, arms coming up to block her wild jabs. One fist snuck through my guard and smashed into my shoulder. Holding back a moan of pain, my body rolled backwards using the momentum of her punch and I was back on my feet. Shiva was right there, flame-red hair burning into my face.
But everything had changed.
It wasn't Shiva, it was Neilson whose brown eyes were glowering at me. I glanced over to see the human's swiping attack at my neck had been blocked by my own blade. He backed away from me, his expression careful and focused as he studied me, circling around me, his tightly controlled emotions rolling through me as a dizzying concoction. His human movements were slow and heavy compared to a ghost's. He was no match for me.
The crowd agreed, although they didn't voice it. No, they were totally silent, staring at the battle, feeding off of the acute terror this one human male was generating. They were all focused intently on Neilson – except for a figure dressed in a green, who was studying me almost as closely as Neilson was.
I jerked my mind back to my fight when Neilson moved. He came at me, his blades cutting in a high arc. My body ducked and slipped off to the right, Neilson's blades slicing through the air next to my head. I kept moving, twirling easily in the bloody muck of the ground, catching Neilson's legs with an outstretched foot. He collapsed to the ground, already rolling to get back on his feet.
I pushed myself forwards, my body following his with a dogged determination. I sliced through the air, my blade slipping through the skin on his back. It wasn't very deep, but the sensation that slammed into my head was impossible to describe. I could feel it as my blade cut into him. His body was warm and wet. It was a horribly tantalizing feeling.
He bit back a scream and staggered to his feet. Brown eyes gazed hatefully into my own green ones. "Stupid ghost," he spat, "capturing me and throwing me into here to die. I'm going to kill you and everything like you!"
I wanted to tell him it wasn't my fault. I wanted to explain that I was here against my will as well, but my body wouldn't follow my own commands. All I could do was watch as he slid gracefully forwards, his own martial arts skills obvious in his every movement. His body came right up to mine, under my guard, his blades coming around to slice me in two.
I moved first. One blade went down to my side, up and back, then forwards.
Right through his chest.
I blinked, wanting to scream in horror. Terror yanked at me as I stared into his rage- and agony-filled eyes. It bubbled up in me, but I couldn't do a thing. I could just stare.
And then everything changed again.
The person pressed up against me wasn't Neilson… it was a little girl in a dirty blue dress. The eyes gazing at me weren't full of rage and pain; they were those two gleaming orbs that had been so trusting and calm. Not anymore: the girl who had been clinging to my leg in the hopes of freedom now had eyes that could stare with nothing but death. Her warm hands, clutching my pants so tightly, were loosening their grip. Quiet drops of blood slipped through her hair and down onto the ground.
Almost in slow motion, I watched her collapse beside me. The noise of the crowd was gathering momentum as I stared at the slowly expanding pool of blood. Most of the ghosts were cheering, shrieking, partying with joy at the sight and the feelings this killing had brought them. Only a small handful, dressed in green, weren't.
I couldn't tear my eyes off of her, barely noticing as a tiny flicker of blue light coalesced in the air just over her body. I just blinked in dazed shock as the light vanished off into the depths of the pit. My body wasn't my own, I couldn't move. I wanted to scream and run and fight and do anything… but I couldn't.
"Danny," a familiar voice whispered, but I couldn't turn my head. The girl, Rose, was dead and it was my fault.
"It's my fault," I rasped, feeling my body begin to tremble, even as the barely-remembered guards stalked towards me. I turned my head, looking off to the side, straight into the eyes of Ember. She smiled vaguely, reaching up a hand to touch my shoulder. "I remember," I whispered, "and it's my fault."
Her hand dropped back to her side and she shook her head. "Please don't die on us, Danny. Listen to what the rat has to say. We can get out of this."
The guards grabbed my roughly and twisted my arms painfully behind my back, not apparently noticing my companion at all. I didn't resist; all I could do was picture the beautiful eyes of the girl as they slowly drained of life.
"The green ghosts," Ember said before she dissolved away and left me to my nightmares, "they're the rebellion, I think. Remember."
"Remember," I murmured in a daze, half-singing. "You will remember…"
Let go of me!
I glanced to the side in my dream, looking into the blank faces of the guards. "Who…" I whispered.
STUPID GHOST!
The ground suddenly vanished from underneath me and I fell into an endless expanse of light, my nightmare vanishing in a flash of green.
My eyes opened, my mind only half awake. I couldn't figure out what had woken me up, but I was definitely awake for a reason, the vague haze of my dreams floating in the back of my mind. I stared up at the flickering, sleepy ghost lights for a few breathless moments.
Then it happened again. A voice echoed through the hallway outside my door.
The fact that I could hear a voice wasn't unusual – my door is far from soundproof and I'd grown accustomed to the screams and wails of the condemned as they were dragged past – what had woken me up is the fact that this voice was familiar.
"Let go of me!" the voice screamed. I listened carefully, trying to place it. Female. Terrified, but overlaid with fury. Human.
Listening to her struggle and scream as she was marched past my door, I didn't move from my bed. There wasn't anything I could do but listen. It was driving me nuts that I couldn't figure out who the voice belonged to. But it was definitely someone I knew. Her name tingled at the tip of my tongue.
"Stupid ghost, let GO!" the female's voice shrieked one last time, reverberating darkly in the broken hallway.
Then all was silent. Blinking blearily at the ceiling, I couldn't get my mind to work. I couldn't place the voice, I couldn't remember what my dream had been about, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to wake up or go back to sleep.
With a yawn, I chose sleep.
I woke up with tears in my eyes. Over and over, I had been living through each one of my fights in my nightmares, watching in horrified fascination as one after another died at my hands. Died on my blades.
Each time, I had pushed farther away from the thought of killing again, of fighting again. With each death, Ember had been there, sometimes melting into Phantom, sometimes just staying as the spectral rock star. Each time she had said that it was okay, that everything would be fine, that I was doing the right thing.
I still couldn't decide whether or not I hated the fact that I was starting to believe her. Him. Me.
Pushing myself to my feet and sending my own mental dilemmas out of my mind, I walked quietly over to the door and listened to what was going on in the hallway in the half-hope that I would hear that strangely familiar voice again. I just knew that if I could hear it again, I'd be able to place it. If nothing else, I could usually hear the moaning and screaming of my neighbors if I tried, but there was nothing to greet my ears. I was about to turn around when my gaze caught on the lose stone next to the door. "What could it hurt?" I whispered to myself.
I dug my fingers into the sides of the stone and pried it out of its spot, carefully digging through the tiny hole for the cold metal of the knife. My fingers wrapped around the freezing hilt and pulled, the bloody blade sparkling in the light given off by the six ghost lights that danced around my cell.
With the heavy object in my hand, I reached forwards, touching the door with my outstretched fingertips. If that rat – LJ – was right, I had the key to leave. I should be able to get the door open. "The question is how?" I breathed, brushing the fingers of the hand not holding the knife over the scorched wood that made up the thick door. There wasn't a handle, there weren't hinges, there wasn't any place for my fingers to grasp.
My other hand came forwards with the vague thought that maybe I could get my fingers between the door and the frame. The edge of the knife just barely touched the door and a loud clunk echoed through my room. I jerked my hands away from the wood, backing up a half-step at the sound of the giant lock turning.
Slowly, the door creaked and swung towards me. I could barely breathe, my eyes flickering from the knife in my hands to the opening door. What if Walker was opening the door? I was sure that the torture I had been through would be nothing compared to what would be coming. I couldn't let anyone see the fact that I had Walker's knife.
I slid the knife behind my back as I waited. But the door just stayed where it was, a few inches open.
"Hello?" I finally got up the nerve to whisper after some long, tense seconds.
Nobody answered.
I walked forwards, gently wrapping my fingers around the edge of the door and pulling it open the rest of the way. The dark and dank corridor met my gaze. It was empty.
Staring down at the knife in my hands, I felt a small sense of wonderment filling me. The rat had been right – I had the key to the kingdom sitting in the palm of my hands. I glanced down the hallway in both directions, feeling the smile tugging at my lips. Freedom was somewhere out there.
I took a few steps forwards, my eyes bright with possibilities. I was free.
The rat's words echoed in my mind. "You can leave this room with it, no problem, but you'll never escape the Pits. Not on your own. There are too many guards for you to fight, too many people in the way, too many things holding you back." My feet hesitated and I licked my lips. "Stay and wait, live and fight."
The knife was heavy in my hand as I waited. I wanted to run more than anything, I wanted to be free and away from this place. No more fights, no more killing, no more of anything… but something held me back.
"We can destroy everything: not just Walker, not just ruin a few fights, but everything the Pits stands for and is. Stay and fight."
Endless rows of doors met my gaze as I studied the way out of this Hell-hole. Hundreds of ghosts and humans awaited their deaths beyond those heavy, blood-smeared doors. I would have to walk past all them to get my freedom, letting them stay and be murdered.
I turned around to go the other way, wanting to leave but not being able to face all that death. The corridor stretched beyond my view in the other direction, lined with doors, filled with prisoners. Filled with innocent victims heading to the slaughter.
"Stay and fight."
With a muffled cry, I stormed back through the door (which now had a lovely nine painted on it) and slammed it shut behind me. For the moment, I was here partly on my own terms.
And that made everything worse.
When I was 'escorted' into Former's office some time later, I was still torn inside about my choice to stay. I knew, in my head, that I really didn't have a chance of escaping, even with the key in my hand. I would have been capture, tortured, and Walker would have gotten his knife back in short order. I wasn't in any shape to be facing down the whole of Walker's guard. But I hadn't even tried… and that rankled deep in my mind.
"I'm officially impressed," Former said, his caramel eyes glowing warmly as he watched me stalk into his room. "I've never been wrong about someone giving up before."
I glanced up at him, trying to find a smile to send back to my friend. That thought made me pause. Friend? When did get become my friend?
"You must have something special in you," he continued softly, running his finger lightly over his book. "But I hope it's enough for this one. This fight isn't going to be much fun."
Silver light played over me as I switched to ghost mode. "Why not?" I asked.
"The ghost has got a record of fifteen wins. It's a unique ghost." Former hesitated. "Its name is Mimic and its style is just like its name. It fights by disguising itself as its opponent." He sent me a faint smile. "In essence, you'll be fighting yourself – your own strengths, your own weaknesses."
I breathed out slowly, blinking quietly, not really taking in what he was saying. My mind was still trapped in circles; mysteries were piling on top of mysteries and the clues weren't revealing themselves nearly fast enough. "Have you ever heard of a rat named LJ?" I asked suddenly, surprising both myself and Former at the bizarre question.
"A rat?" the young man answered, leaning back in his chair for a second. I could have sworn that a flash of something in his eyes, but he shook his head. "There are plenty of rats in the Pits. I don't know if they have names or not."
"How about a rebellion?" I fixed my eyes on him, trying to pry the answers out of his mind. "A bunch of ghosts dressed in green?"
He shook his head again. "I explained this to you before. There can't be a rebellion. Walker's got his key, which controls the Pits, which controls how everyone thinks. Nobody thinks this is wrong. There can't be a rebellion if everyone is okay with this."
My breath hitched in my throat for a second as a few pieces of the puzzle suddenly righted themselves and snapped together in my head. A smile grew on my face at the amazed thought that was germinating in my head. "What if he didn't have his key anymore?"
I wasn't sure I actually spoken the question aloud, but Former was staring at me and blinking like I'd just grown a second head. "That's…"
The doors to the Pits slammed open and Former cut off whatever he was going to say. He gazed at me for a long second before tipping his head to the side and looking up at the guards that were stalking into the room. "Mimic. Pit three."
They reached for me, but I turned and walked ahead of them.
It was, kind of, my choice to be here now. I could walk myself.
I slipped into a crouch, staring around the darkened recesses of the pit. For the first time, I was sort of… comfortable with my surroundings. I knew what I was doing and I knew what the outcome was going to be. I was going to fight. I was going to win.
A movement off to my left caused me to spin, searching the shadows for my opponent. Just for a moment I thought I saw bloody-red eyes staring into mine. An explosion of impossibly bright light slammed into me, forcing me to close my eyes for a moment. When I opened them up, the ghost – I assumed it was Mimic – was crouched in front of me.
The ghost was extremely thin and dirty, with a haunted expression and hollow cheeks. His too-long white hair was matted and hung into his sunken green eyes, and his black clothes hung off of him like rags. Two thin, star-silver blades extended from his arms like rapiers. He fixed his eyes on me, a small grin flickering across his pale face. "Hello," he rasped.
Mimic, Former's voice whispered in my head, it fights by disguising itself as its opponent. You'll be fighting yourself – your own strengths, your own weaknesses.
This half-dead creature in front of me was… me. I grimaced. "I look horrible."
He chuckled morosely. "Yes. Are you prepared to die today?"
What kind of question is that? I wondered sourly. "No, can we do this tomorrow instead?"
His chuckle grew into a soft laugh. "It's too bad I have to kill you – you are humorous." His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment. "And you are powerful," he whispered, "so very powerful." Standing up, he focused back on me. "Now, you will die."
I took a small step backwards. Cold indifference seemed to flood off of him and fill the small, dark arena. He was totally, absolutely sure of his words. There wasn't a thought in his mind that I would survive this fight.
Unfortunately for him, I had similar thoughts going through my head. My small step backwards hadn't really been a retreat, it had been a simple move to spread my legs and create a wider base. I watched his –my– eyes flash with delight at my apparent show of cowardice… then I attacked.
My blade slid through the air as I whirled and slammed into his blades. The haunting sound of the star-silver metal clashing together shrieked above the excited screams of the crowd. He backpedaled for a moment, his blades coming up into a simple block, then he slipped forwards, one blade coming at me to cut my legs out from under me.
I leapt into the air and away from the whipping slice of his blade. Steadying myself, I twisted my backwards leap into forward momentum without ever touching the ground. I blasted past him, managing to get in two swipes of my blades before I was out of reach. Both attacks had been easily blocked.
"Come on, you have to be faster than that," Mimic hissed, his eyes laughing at me through the shadows of the pit.
My own eyes narrowed slightly and I raised a hand, snaring energy out the air and coiling it together around my fingertips. It glowed as I condensed it into a sharp blast before I purposefully pushed it up and into the blade that was sparkling on my arm.
Muerto squinted at me over the intense glow of the blades. A thrust… and everything exploded. Energy more powerful than anything I'd ever felt slammed through me.
I remembered very well what had happened the last time I did this. My hope was that Mimic – although he could probably copy the ability – wouldn't know what was coming.
Breath hissed out from between my teeth as I released the power that was tickling and coursing in my arms. It blazed, pure energy, and flashed across the dark pit. The explosion rocked the entire place, the blood-soaked ground tearing apart and flinging bits of the mud in every direction, the crowd falling into a stunned silence. Blinking stars out of my eyes, I searched the muck-splattered pit for any sign of my opponent.
He wasn't even hurt. Mimic was floating a few inches off the ground, turning himself intangible to rid himself of the bloody mud that had flown up and covered him during the explosion. His black clothes were steaming, his hair singed. But, as he looked up at me with his eyes glowing with power, I knew that the attack hadn't done very much more than that.
I waited, panting a little. Mimic was a match for me blow for blow, swipe for swipe, power for power. Nothing I had tried would be able to come close to being able to stop him. Continuing with the same kind of attacks was pointless – we were too closely matched. He just dropped back to the ground, pacing back and forth, the blades sparkling in the lights, his –my– green eyes gazing at me in calm fury.
Suddenly, Mimic blew towards me, slicing open my arm before I could dodge. I scrambled backwards, holding my arm. Cold ectoplasm dripped off the end of my numb fingers. Mimic just went back to pacing with a small grin on his face, my head turning to keep him in view.
"Quick, powerful," the ghost commended. "A perfect fighter. I will miss this body."
I needed to try something else. I needed a plan. My mind threw thoughts left and right as it searched for an answer, but I was drawing a horrifying blank. It seemed as though anything I could pull out of my hat, he could counter. He was as strong as me, as fast as me, and a lot more ruthless. He could do everything I could do.
He faked to the left, then slashed out with a blade in an attempt to take out my leg. I danced out of the way, still holding my screaming arm, swearing under my breath.
I needed help, or a really good idea… or I was going to die with this fight.
My eyes scanned the pit reflexively, watching Mimic prowl. Nobody was around – nobody could help. What ghost would be in the pit with us?
A flicker of blue, flaming hair.
I did a double-take. Ember? I focused on the crowd, searching for her. I finally found the hair, but it wasn't attached to Ember. It was some nameless face.
Sand slithered. My head jerked down to see Mimic blasting towards me. I knew in a flash that I wouldn't be able to dodge or block this. I hadn't seen it in time.
Ember…
Everything froze.
The pit was still. Mimic, still looking eerily like me, was hanging in space. Underneath of him, lounging against the rough-hewn boards that made up the sides of the pit, was Ember. "Hiya, dipstick… again."
"Can we drop the act?" I asked. "Deranged bits of my personality that haunt nightmares and fight battles for me really shouldn't be dressing as female rock stars."
Ember grinned and her body flowed and changed into the more familiar form of Phantom. "Deranged?" he asked. "You're the one that almost got yourself killed a few times now. That doesn't sound entirely sane to me." His smile faded and he walked forwards to stare up at Mimic. "He looks…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "So, how's it going?"
I folded my arms and slid to the ground. "I'm a split-second from dying, if I haven't already, and I'm talking to myself in my own head. I just don't know how I can beat myself."
He glanced at me, his smile flickering back into place. "Are you yourself?"
"What?" I groused darkly, "Now's not really the time for mind games."
Phantom chuckled. "Sorry, it's just not very often that I get to play 'Jazz'. I'm just wondering if you're trying as hard as you could."
I shook my head quietly, sitting in the silence for a few moments. "I don't know what else to do," I confessed quietly. "I'm fighting a ghost that can beat anything I can throw at it." A small, hysterical giggle slipped out of my lips and I buried my head in my hands. "Here I am, talking to myself, trying to figure out how to beat… myself. This can't get any more insane."
"Well, I see two problems with your logic." Phantom crossed his legs and settled for sitting in the air rather than on the muddy ground. "The first is that you do know what to do… because I do. And I'm you." He drifted a little closer. "You actually know exactly what you need, you just need to figure out how to ask."
I glanced up at him dubiously, not knowing what he meant. "And the second?"
A soft chuckle drifted through the air from behind me. "That would be the 'can't get more insane' part." Dan shimmered into view, settling onto the ground next to me.
I sighed, burying my head into my arms and groaning. There was me, my 'hero' side in Phantom, my 'evil' side in Dan, and the Mimic copy of my hanging frozen in the air. Somewhere, someone was laughing at me. This whole mess was going to take years of therapy to get over if I somehow managed to survive this. "Now what," I muttered, "I'm going to die."
"You need to figure out what you need to win," Phantom said easily.
"I need help," I said darkly. "But there is a distinct lack of other ghosts in the pit to help me."
Phantom arched an eyebrow, rapping me on the head with his knuckles. "There are no other ghosts in the pit right now? You look around and see nobody else?"
"Nobody that's not me in some form or another," I said, looking up. "And I'm already fighting!"
Green eyes gazed into mine. "Have we been helping you fight?" He blinked at me for a few seconds before drifting backwards and settling onto the ground.
"Yes…" I trailed off, staring at him. In his eyes, I saw the joy of fighting: being able to protect others, the adrenaline rush, the warm fuzzy feeling of knowing you've done the right thing. I'd come to grips with having to fight to survive, but the joy of the fight hadn't been there. Quietly I glanced over at Dan, wincing away from the maniacal glitter of murder in his eyes. I wasn't fighting with the desire to destroy my opponent. "No…" I whispered. "I know I have to fight, but I still don't want to. I don't want to fight. I don't want to kill."
They hadn't been helping me fight. I'd kept them locked away deep inside of me. But now… I twisted my head to gaze up at the deranged expression on Mimic's frozen form.
"We can destroy everything: not just Walker, not just ruin a few fights, but everything the Pits stands for and is. Stay and fight."
Hundreds of lives hung in the balance. Thousands, maybe. "I need help," I finally said softly. "I need your help."
"Can you accept us?" Phantom's voice was quiet, but it still echoed weirdly in the silence of the pit.
"I need to fight. I want to live." I tore my eyes away from Mimic. "I need to kill to live." Tears sparkled in my eyes and I wiped them away, nearly slicing my forehead open on the blade stuck to my arm. "It's not right, but I need to…"
Dan poked me in the side. "You need to what?" he said cruelly.
"I'm going to kill Mimic," I said, shivering at the indifference that slid into my voice for a moment.
Dan nodded, an evil grin on his face. "So, kid, are you going to sit around forever or ask for our help?"
"Help?" I asked and held out my hands. "I… we… need to live through this."
Phantom grabbed one of my stretched out hands. "We'll be fine. The Id, the Ego, and the Super-ego, back together again." We both turned to glance over at Dan.
"It's a slippery slope to evil," he hissed softly, reaching towards my hand. "You may find you like killing."
Just before his hand settled into mine and his claws dug into my skin, my eyes drifted back up to Mimic's face.
Time restarted, and all Hell broke loose.
It's nearly impossible to explain what happened next. A chilling, surging feeling swept through me, tossing me into the air. It was almost like the tingling, painful zap that happened when I transformed… but not quite. This was stronger, slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave. Hovering in the air, I gasped in pain and my eyes slammed shut.
When my eyes finally opened again, Mimic was hanging before me with a confused look on his face. He had pulled his attack short and the crowd around me had fallen silent.
I felt strangely full as I drifted back to the ground and let my shoes crunch in the sand. It was like I wanted to explode. My head felt hot. I rocked anxiously from my heels to my toes. Power crackled around me in blazing bands of white light that simmered in the sand and evaporated the already-spilt ectoplasm.
Glancing one last time at Mimic – who was still staring at me in disbelief – I raised one hand and glanced down at my fingers. My skin was a pale color: too pale to be human but with too much color to really be ghost. It was a different than I'd ever seen it before. Quietly, I waited for the surging energy to subside, waited for it to finish rocketing through me.
Mimic landed on the sand next to me, his ragged form hunching over for a second before his features changed. He was still me, but it was different. Mimic's hair faded to a strange blend of black and white, his eyes a flickering aura of blue and green, the blades on his arms sparkling impossibly bright in the darkened arena.
There was no doubt in my mind what had happened to Mimic. He had changed to look like me. For some reason, my own appearance had changed in that instant where I had accepted my other sides. But now wasn't the time to think about that; now was the time to act.
I raised an arm, ectoplasm jumping to my waiting fingertips with an ease that I'd never felt before. Power and energy still flooded off of me and crashed around Mimic's feet like waves of water. I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth as Phantom's endorphin-producing adrenaline shot through me. "Let's finish this," I said.
Mimic, strangely, took a step backwards, his –my– eyes wide with disbelief. "What…"
I pushed off the ground, flipping through the air and kicking my foot into Mimic's chest before he could finish his sentence. Sliding on the half-dried mud of the pit, Mimic slammed up against the wall and groaned. He picked himself back up and held his chest as he turned to watch me.
I didn't keep him waiting. I stalked towards him, the blades extended off to my sides. Power sparkled and collected on the star-silver metal and I could feel it deep inside of me like never before. I grinned at the heady feeling of power swirling around me.
Mimic suddenly snarled, taking an antagonistic step forwards. "You can't beat me. I have your power, I have your strength. Anything you can do…" He let the rest of the phrase dangle in air as he drifted into the air and collected a huge ball of power in his hands. "You can't beat yourself!"
"That's where you're wrong," I laughed softly, easily blocking the blast he sent in my direction. "I've already beat me, eight years from now."
He shot me a look before pushing off the ground and sending a kick in my direction. I caught his foot in my hands, twisted around and used his momentum to fling Mimic off in a different direction. Even as he fought to regain control of his impromptu flight, I sent a blast of ectoplasm in his direction. It slammed, unblocked, into his back and sent him skidding into the ground.
I flew towards him, landing in the drying muck next to him. He raised his head, glaring at me. "You'll never beat me. Never, you hear me?" he snarled, his emerald eyes flickering to red. "Nobody beats me!" Then, quite abruptly, he wasn't me anymore. Instead, I was looking straight at what Mimic really was: a glistening black shadow with bloody eyes. It floated off the ground, streams of darkness reaching out and coiling around me. "Diiiieeee…."
I simply closed my eyes. Yanking as much energy into my body as I could, I wove it together into a tight mass and pushed it into the blades on my arms. They started to glow with a supernatural light, sparkling like miniature stars as I threaded more and more power into them. Within moments I could see the light of the blades through my eyelids.
Mimic's agonized screams rang through my ears as I kept throwing energy into the blades, causing them to grow brighter and brighter. I knew that what happened to Jonny 13's shadow-creature was probably happening to Mimic as well. Light beat shadow.
When the last shriek of pain melted away, I let all the energy ebb out of me, the light died away, and I opened my eyes. I stared at Mimic's evaporating remains, a small sense of accomplishment stirring in my chest, but it was hopelessly overpowered by a feeling of guilt and dread that I felt by taking someone else's life.
It's a slippery slope to evil. You may find you like killing.
I shook my head, disgusted with the thought. "Never," I muttered, releasing the last of the energy to flow away and turn me back to human.
Nothing happened.
She stared down at the notebook, then over to the bloody knife she held in her fingers. Cautiously, she closed the red notebook and got to her feet, limping over to the door. "He wanted to save everyone," she breathed, "but he didn't. Else I wouldn't be here."
She gazed at the door for a second, then down at the battered notebook. "It's not sounding too good for your survival, kid. Either this 'rebellion' never surfaced or you died a bit too fast."
"But not me." Her eyes hardened and she held the knife out towards the door. "I'm leaving this horrible place. I don't care if I die trying, at least I'm going to try. I'm not going to wait here like a lamb to the slaughter."
Crossing the last few feet, she stared at the scorched wood, then reached out and tapped the knife against the door.
Nothing happened.
With a confused look, she slammed the blade of the knife into the door. Still no resounding thunk of the door unlocking. "What?" she whispered, pushing and pulling on the door with all of her strength as tears jumped into her eyes. "What's wrong? Why won't you open!"
Her fingers were bleeding when she finally collapsed against the solid and unmoving door. Dismally, she stared down at the knife in her hand. Bloody blade attached to a hand-crafted hilt, the end of which was all mangled, like a piece had been broken off. With a scream that was more of a sigh, she hurled the pointless piece of metal across the room and buried her head in her arms and sobbed.
It was quite some time before she picked up the notebook and continued to read…
Wow, an update. How many of you thought it would never come? First off, thanks to all my reviewers who have stuck with me this long. :D Rya Starling, KorelC, Werewolf of Suburbia, EmptyHeart, skitzofrenic, Erin, char13s, yikariyip, Kit turned Mighty, PixieGirl13, ShadowFox123, Pterodactyl, Deathfire-san, fetchboy84, anne onomiss, pwykersotz, Silver Mayflower, Shuricel, TexasDreamer01, kdm13, FunkyFish1991, passionateartist, Kinoshita Kristanite, CrAzYeMoGaL, New Ghost Girl, hanyou-halfa, Silver Shadowbreeze, Cloud97, ShadowLord9, bluename, Chaos Dragon, Hiei's Cute Girl, AnimeBando33, DPRRluvJ13MM, FreakLevel27, Annab3ll3 L33, Anne Campe aka Obi-Quiet, southernstarshadow, The dark and Evil PHANTOM, hermie-the-frog, katiesparks, Me-against-the-world, Thunderstorm101, Dark Austral, Nylah, Forget and Forive, swordbunny4486, FieryPhoenixSong, and Invader Johnny.
If you're still reading, send me a line. I lose track of peoples. ;) Some of you I haven't heard from in so long! I miss you!!
FanCOMIC!! So cool:
-page one: e-dantes. deviantart. com/ art/ Pits-a-Danny-Phantom-Fanfic-78165972
-page two: e-dantes. deviantart. com/ art/ Pits-a-Danny-Phantom-Fanfic2-78166270
New Fanarts:
-kdm13. deviantart. com/ art/ Pits-L-Jai-78751950 by kdm13
-solokryhart. deviantart. com/ art/ Phantom-of-the-Pits-74428300
Check my profile for a complete listing of the oh-so-cool fanart!! And see my DeviantArt page to read the vesion of 'Pits' that is filled with Author's Notes.
Hoping for an update next weekend. Cross your fingers, but don't hold your breath, k?
-Cori