Breaking Dawn
A Danny Phantom Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own Danny Phantom.
Chapter 10: To Rescue Brody
Somewhere…
Thomas Brody's rheumy eyes, almost useless without the glasses that he kept in his pocket, flickered beneath their hooded lids before opening ever so slightly. His mouth was dry and swollen, his tongue parched like a piece of bread due to the after-effects of the sedative that had been administered. Raging thirst made Brody's throat burn as he momentarily mourned that coffee that had been lost in the course of his abduction-
-Abduction, Brody thought, the memory of the assault in his vehicle flashing through his brain at the speed of light. Son of a bitch, I've been kidnapped! No one's gotten the drop on me in forty years, he added, somewhat morosely. I really must be old, to let my guard down like that…
Brody's head swiveled in his chair, but his movement was restricted by the heavy-duty plastic ties that bound his wrists, feet, and even his neck. The agent's captors had either heard of Brody's fearsome reputation or were certifiably paranoid, but either way the layers of restraints served to nullify any immediate plan of escape and reduce the scrappy old cop to the helplessness of a newborn kitten.
He tried to scoot his seat forward a bit, but cursed violently as he discovered that the piece of furniture had been bolted to the floor. Though he was loathe to admit it, Brody had to give his captors credit for thoroughness; he'd only come across a few such criminals who'd had the foresight to do such a thing.
The old agent's eyes flickered as he tried to gain stock of wherever the hell it was that he was now imprisoned, but Brody quickly realized that this was an exercise in futility. The room was dark, so dark that Brody partially suspected that he had somehow been transported to a subterranean chamber, and off in the inky blackness a leaky pipe dripped methodically amongst the squeaking and scurrying of mice and roaches.
In spite of his predicament, sardonic grin nevertheless crossed Brody's face. What is this, the set of a James Bond movie? All that's needed now is a cat for one of these people to stroke!
"Glad to see you're awake, Agent. You have been unconscious for quite some time, you know. I was beginning to fear that we had used too much sedative," a voice, as yet unseen, interrupted the agent's mental mockery just before a hidden door swung open. The dim light, cast by a guttering torch, nevertheless seemed blinding to the captive Brody, and the silhouette of his captor seemed to take pleasure in his discomfort before continuing. "I sincerely apologize for your…forced invitation, but you understand that we must do what is necessary. We have a few questions we'd like to ask you; answer them, and perhaps your situation won't become…unpleasant. If you cooperate with us-"
"Go fuck yourself."
"You would be wise to remember your current position before addressing me like that," the man warned, his tone growing dangerous.
"Long…and hard," Brody continued, as if he had not heard.
Smack!
The as-yet-unnamed villain backhanded Brody across the face, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he grinned back at him. "I've met Girl Scouts who've hit me harder for not buying their cookies," the agent spat. "Who taught you how to punch, Elmo from 'Sesame Street'?"
"I do not have the time to exchange petty insults," Brody's captor snarled, motioning for several of his lackeys to join him in the room. "You are close to him, are you not? You know his strengths and weaknesses. Does he attack on your command, as he does for the Manson girl?"
"Who?" Brody asked, trying to buy time.
"Don't play stupid with us, Brody," the man sighed, "You know very well who. Tell me: when is the child vulnerable? When is the best time for us to strike?"
"Here's a better idea, buddy," Brody snarled. "How about you tell me how you legitimize the misery and suffering you've brought upon a fourteen-year-old kid?"
"Suffering? No, no, no, Agent, we are preventing suffering," the kidnapper shook his head vigorously. "The suffering that will ensue if the child is allowed to walk among humans. You have seen what he is capable of firsthand, have you not? Fenton is an unnatural creature, an abomination in the eyes of God! His fell abilities can only destroy, and he uses them to perpetrate false acts of heroism so as to hide his evil agenda from the eyes of the world. Surely you cannot believe that such a foul, unclean creature is fit to walk among us; if he is permitted to roam free, the boy will bring about destruction upon us all! He is evil incarnate, the spawn of the Lucifer! The ghost child dwells in evil, and the Devil walks with him! If he is not driven and cast out from men, we will all pay the price for our 'tolerance!' We're facing a threat to human life as we know it, and you, a cop are allowing it to happen!"
"You ever watch those old World War II documentaries?" Brody inquired sarcastically. "I'll bet you have no idea how much you sound like Adolf Hitler! Are you gonna start goose-stepping and wearing armbands next? You guys are using the same conviction to justify what you're doing to Fenton, to set your conscience at ease while you torment an innocent kid who's trying to do the right thing, and after you've fooled yourself into thinking your actions are justified, you sleep peacefully in your bed every night."
"I will sleep peacefully when the world recognizes Fenton for what he truly is," the anonymous villain snapped back as one of his underlings placed a collapsible baton in his outstretched hand. "Now tell us: what weaknesses does the Dark One have that we may use to our advantage?"
Brody's lips clamped tightly shut, his eyes radiating defiance.
"Agent…" the man's voice grew soft and dangerous. "Answer my question."
"Go to hell."
SMACK!
Brody bit down the urge to howl in agony as the metal club scythed diagonally across his face, loosening several fillings and knocking a tooth clean out of its socket. Brody spat the dislodged molar defiantly in his tormentor's face, spattering the hidden features with crimson blood.
"We will do whatever it takes to ensure the success of the Light's crusade," the villain hissed, wiping Brody's ichor from his lips with the hem of his sleeve. "Given enough…persuasion…even the mightiest dam will break sooner or later."
"In that case, I hope you don't have any plans this evening," Brody snorted, his smashed lip trickling blood onto his trousers. "And for the record, my grandmother used to smack me harder than that with her cane when I was eight!"
SMACK!
The cold steel made a sound reminiscent of an iron rebar slamming into a raw slab of meat as it connected with Brody's jaw, and the agent felt something fracture as the thunderous impact sent lances of pain arcing across his skull.
SMACK!
Brody doubled over, winded and breathless, as the remorseless instrument gave a sickening thud upon colliding with his rib cage like a runaway train. Several somethings cracked audibly as the agent's vision went white with agony, but Brody's grueling FBI training came to the fore as he clamped his mouth resolutely shut.
"Do yourself a favor and talk," the mystery man whispered in Brody's ear, wiping the bloody instrument on his prisoner's trenchcoat. "For the Light's justice can be terrible indeed. Make no mistake, Agent Brody: we are not afraid of making those who oppose the True Way disappear, for God is on our side!"
"Here's…a better…idea…" Brody's chest ached with the effort of gasping through his fractured ribs. "Do…the world a favor…and throw yourself in front of… a freaking train!"
Growling wordlessly, the agent's torturer tossed the now-dented and slightly bent club to the ground before nodding the direction of the door from whence he'd entered. As if on cue, another man, disguised in yet another Halloween mask, wheeled in a trolley laden with a sickening variety of evil-looking instruments.
With slow, deliberate movements, the villainous kidnapper deftly plucked a surgical scalpel from its tray and delicately tested its edge with his fingertip.
"Keep in mind," he warned, advancing on his victim, "This is only the beginning of the price you will pay for your silence, Thomas Brody."
The Agent's eyes widened as the shadow of his tormentor loomed over him, the wickedly sharp blade seeming to glitter in anticipation.
Aw, crap…
Meanwhile…
Casper High School
Danny Fenton's foot tapped the asphalt impatiently as his girlfriend, Sam, checked her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
"Where is he?" the Goth asked. "Didn't Brody say he'd be here after school?"
"Yeah," Tucker's tone was thoughtful. "Maybe he had to go to the bathroom or something, what with all that coffee he drinks."
"Could he have gotten caught in traffic?" Sam put in, chewing her lip with worry.
"If that were the case, he would have called us ahead of time," Danny shook his head, dismissing the idea. "Brody has my cell number; he knows how to get in touch. And besides, he's not one to be late if he can help it, either."
"Did you try calling him, then?"
"Yeah, I did, several times, but he's not answering."
"That doesn't sound good," Tucker sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Do you think the people who attacked your house might have gotten to Brody? He said he'd be checking into a few things, remember? Maybe he got too close to something that the attackers wanted to hide."
"Knowing Brody, I'd say that's a strong possibility," Danny admitted, his pulse rising as a fresh wave of concern for his friend welled up inside of him. "And it'd explain why he's not picking up his phone, too!"
"What do we do?" Sam inquired, urgency overtaking her as well.
"You guys aren't going to do anything, at least not yet," Danny said apologetically. "We don't know who these people are, where they are, or how many of them might be holding Brody."
"Why not just blast in there and bust him out?" Tucker demanded. "You can take on a dozen people with one hand behind your back!"
"Those wackos might have kidnapped Brody," Danny murmured. "And if they're okay with crossing that line, there's no telling what else they might be capable of. I don't want you guys to put yourselves at risk until we have some idea of who and what we're dealing with, okay? I'll do the heavy lifting to free Brody if he has been abducted, and while I'm doing that I need you two to call the cops."
"Make sure to leave bruises," Sam hissed ferociously, red murder in her eyes as she fantasized about throttling Brody's captors.
"I'd like to, but I can't," Danny refuted her. "If at all possible, I'd like to sneak in, grab Brody and sneak back out without having to punch anyone. Otherwise one of those jerks could have me brought up on assault charges or something. I told you guys that they'll take any excuse, especially with so many people following my life like some second-rate TV show."
"Do you always have to be so virtuous?" Sam sighed exasperatedly.
"Would you like me if I were anything else?" Danny teased back, before turning serious once more. "Tuck, I'll need one of your spare GPS locators so you can give the cops Brody's location when I track his abductors down. Keep your phone on and wait for my signal, okay? I'll send you a text as soon as Brody and I are in the clear. Sam, find Jazz and tell her to have her car nearby if I'm unable to fly out; we'll need to get out of there pretty quick if we have people chasing us…or worse."
"Got it," Tucker nodded, clipping a small device deftly onto the waistband of Danny's jeans.
"You sure all this is necessary?" Sam asked, trying in vain to be the optimist. "I mean…it could be nothing."
Danny turned back at her, and for an instant his expression seemed to mirror that of his grizzled protector. The ghost boy's expression was dark as his words mirrored an expression he'd heard Brody say several times before.
"My gut says otherwise."
A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUN! Well, it looks like Danny and company FINALLY noticed something was amiss, eh? But will Danny make it in time to save his friend? Will Brody succumb to his wounds? And will the Society of Light and Skryme ever be stopped? Find out in coming chapters!