Chapter 24: ForgetMeNots
"Come on, get in. We'll get you a shower and something besides those scrubs when we get to the castle," said Linx awkwardly as he led a completely silent Danny to his car, the kid still covered in dull bloodstains. It took a lot of finagling on the lawyers' part, but he finally got the kid released into his custody even though the hospital and the detective wanted him to stay.
Linx had to salvage Vladco's reputation and keep this mess under wraps.
Watching the teen seem to twitch as if his brain was trying to restart and figure out how door handles work, Linx took the initiative and opened the passenger door to his sports car. The kid all but stumbled in, his hands actively shaking as he fought with the seat belt. Linx, when he sat down in the driver's seat, had to lean over and clip it for him.
The engine was roaring before the teen even seemed to realize what was going on, Linx already speeding down a side street and away from the hospital.
Hands gripping the steering wheel harsher than needed, the blond man dwelt on his growing list of problems. Firstly, no one knew where Vlad was. In fact, the whole castle seemed understaffed when they started looking for the man. Who was doing all the castle's upkeep and maintenance was a mystery. In fact, there wasn't one bodyguard on the premises. This wouldn't have happened if they had actual security … especially since this was starting to look like some weird satanic kidnapping shit. Well, hopefully, it was a kidnapping and the kid wasn't a murderer or something.
Letting go of the breath he was holding, Nikolli asked straightforwardly, "Tell me kid, what the hell happened tonight? Was there a disagreement or did someone trick you and snatch you up? What the fuck led to you being covered in blood? The lawyers need to know ASAP."
Blinking as if confused by the movement of the car, Danny asked in a daze, "Where's Vlad?"
"Fuck all if I know. No one could find him so I came to get you," said Linx bitterly. "He's probably passed out drunk in his secret lab. I know it's around and I've left him to have it, but not anymore. I'm finding that stupid passageway or shifting bookcase or whatever the fuck he hid it behind."
Danny blinked, withdrawn, and yet he whispered a simple, "Oh," like he didn't have the mental elasticity to say anything else.
Linx gladly filled the silence, swiping a hand through his wild blond hair as he muttered, "Ughh, this is going to be a media nightmare. A nightmare."
Danny, having looked down at his hands again, could see the dirt under his nails. It probably wasn't all dirt though. There was blood under them. He knew it. Traces of Sam's blood. Oh god … what was he …
"Hey," said Linx as he snapped his fingers in front of Danny's face, the teenager snapping out of it as he looked up noticing that the interior of the car was awash in the red of light of a stop light. "Don't fade out on me kid. I'll ask again. What happened tonight?"
Pulled from his spiral, the red light turning green, the teen's words were barely a whisper, "A ghost of my past came for its revenge tonight … and it got it."
Frowning, part of him wondering if this was a metaphorical ghost or a real one, Linx pried further, "It got its revenge? How? Did it kill that girl … or did it make you do it?"
There was still enough self-awareness in Danny to glare, but any rage that was there faded like the light of the overhead streetlights as they drove on. "I didn't touch her … She was already dead … I think. Sam was just wearing her skin."
The next question came from the vice president's lips almost as a realization, "You said Sam … like the rich girl from the house fire? Are you saying this was a ghost possessing someone?"
Danny, seemingly entwined by the dark stains under his fingernails again, slowly raised his head like his skull was too heavy for his thoughts. It was almost painful to watch the teen move, but the kid's words sent a chill down the ex-military man's spine, "What else could it have been? Sam is dead and I think the demon's always been dead. Neither have bodies of their own anymore, so possession seems like the right word."
Nodding, already queuing contacts in the Guy's in White and other paranormal branches he could call on, Linx was about to ask if this was a ritual or something, but Danny was already curling up in his seat, his back in Linx's direction. The teen's tone was almost begging as he asked, "Can we be done with the questions? I … I can't handle this right now."
Mouth slowly closing, Linx could only shift the car into a higher gear, his voice being lost to the roar of the engine, "Yeah. That's enough right now. I guess."
Linx certainly had more than enough to think about so he'd let the boy be for now.
...
The water was filthied with remnants of blood and dirt, but that didn't matter as long it wasn't on him anymore.
Looking away from the dirty water, the half-ghost wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to swallow the wave of nausea that hit him. He needed to talk to someone, but his mouth felt like it was filled with ash. He hadn't spoken one word since the car with Linx.
Speaking of Linx … the man wouldn't let him fully shut his bathroom door, pacing around in Danny's bedroom as he spoke on the phone. Danny had lost count of how many people the man had spoken to since he had led the halfa to the tub to clean up. Then again, maybe Danny had just been in the bathtub too long, his skin was already pruning.
He should add some more water or drain the tub and rinse off with a shower. Then again, maybe the cold water could eventually snap him out of this … gray. He couldn't feel anything right. Everything left like the color and life had been stolen from it. Was this shock or trauma? Then again, it could be some kind of ghost thing or a curse. He had literally been in a blood circle hours earlier.
Squeezing his eyes shut harshly, he hated himself for bringing forward such a horrible memory so soon. Immediately, the teen sank into the tub allowing his head to be completely overcome by the waters. Thoughts swam over him like the fluid that surrounded him: Sam. Blood. The cops. The demon. The deaths. The blood circle. The candles. The promise to break him.
The same horrific images kept repeating themselves over and over again like a bad movie. They then started to pile on top of each other, mixing, and HE COULD TAKE NO MORE! It was all too much!
Danny pulled himself out of his tub nearly tumbling onto the floor as he stained the floor with cold water. The teenager almost slipped as he exited the bathroom, grabbing some clothes that Linx had seemed to place on the bed for him. The man was out on the balcony, semi-shouting at someone.
He knew he should say something to Linx, the man had taken care of him for the last hour or two, but he had to speak to Vlad or Clockwork or even Skulker. It felt like something was breaking inside him and it wasn't his heart … it felt like his very core was cracking under the weight of it all.
…
"Is there a reason we are out here, Clockwork? It's hardly the best time for a fortuitous romp through the woods. I would have been more useful to the team going into the Ghost Zone to find one of those fictitious weapons than stuck out here," said Vlad as he rubbed his temples, leaning against a large boulder with his sword beside him.
Clockwork, standing in a small clearing where mushrooms and night blooms dwelt, shook his head before twirling his staff and pointing it at Vlad's face. The man flinched back instinctively given that the thing was only a few inches from his face, his hand already reaching for his own blade. It honestly felt like a challenge, but Clockwork merely pulled his staff back seemingly content that he now had Vlad's full attention.
"I'm sure our Master's instructions were less than educational when he presented your weapon to you, correct Plasmius? He has been rather lax on all of his responsibilities for the last 1,500 years," said Clockwork dryly, clearly not impressed with the situation either. "And he called you forth as a champion with a life dept as well? Did he at least tell you your task as a champion? Sometimes he can be quite cagey."
"Cagey isn't quite the way I would describe it," said Vlad bitterly. "His instruction was mostly degenerative commentary about beggars can't be choosers and to kill the demon."
The time mage looked slightly constipated before painfully nodding, "I see. Little instruction, indeed. There is no doubt that he expected Fright Knight or myself to educate you on the use of your tool."
Sighing, like this conversation was irrelevant, Vlad stepped away from the boulder and took a basic swordsman's stance, "I have taken classes in both fencing and swordplay, Clockwork. It is an expectation to be somewhat excentric when you are filthy rich, especially when living in a castle. I'm sure you've happened upon the armory."
"I've happened upon both your cheese and wine collection," said Clockwork cheekily as he floated around Vlad, the man performing a few different stances from a lunge, a feint, and a parry. "I'm sure the armory is likewise impressive."
Vlad snorted and did a few more stances. He was a little rusty, but he wasn't oblivious to his weapon's uses. The sword even seemed to sing for him as he moved and shifted his feet on the earth.
"As for instruction," continued Clockwork as he leaned onto his staff, watching Vlad go into full-on practice mode. "I have no doubt you know how to use your weapon. It was made from your very core. In fact, it was made from the most vital part of a spirit: their reason for being … their regrets. The unfinished business that keeps them here."
Vlad's lip twitched at that and he stalled in his lunge, slowly sliding back into a standing position while straightening his back. He stared at the timekeeper with almost an empty glare before adding, "I've always questioned if half-bloods can even have unfinished business, given I am alive."
"Then can and you know it. The bouts of obsession you've had should be all the answer you need about that, Plasmius. In fact, it probably would have driven you to madness if Daniel's mother continued to reject you," said Clockwork simply, watching Vlad's eye twitch as he continued, "But unlike the fully dead, being half-alive gives you the ability to change obsessions and shift your focus. Unlike a full spirit whose core may have cracked, you were able to move on after she passed."
Vlad winced at this, knowing all too well what the timekeeper meant after having lost Maddie and his rival, Jack. There was a slow and gradual shift in the things he found important. He honestly started to wonder if his obsession had really been for Maddie at all. Perhaps, he just so desperately wanted to be loved and have a family that he became obsessed over the girl who got away. He had only had his grandparents in his life, after all, and they both passed shortly after he started college. He had latched onto Maddie and Jack like a leech after that. Then, after thinking he had found a new family, he had just been up and forgotten after a lab accident. Yeah, that had hurt, and his core had formed around that pain. He refused to be forgotten.
Pinching his nose bridge, anger bubbling at the ghost's commentary, Vlad snapped in the ghost's direction, "Speaking of obsessions, I'm guessing yours is about time wasted or something equally abstruse. In fact, from what I understand, you are the Master of time. How could you not see all of this coming? Why not stall the demon and his destruction of the Ghost Zone?"
Clockwork smiled sadly at this, actually having kept that answer for Daniel more so than Vlad because he expected the kid to want answers. Danny could barely look at him, probably thinking that Clockwork allowed this to happen.
Voice soft, the time ghost stated, "Time isn't as linear as people like to think. There are set moments that can never be changed, like islands in the sea. Everything else is like grains of sand. It has the ability to be cast ashore and be, but can just as easily be pulled back under the waters and given back to the dark blue depths."
Vlad rolled his eyes at the reply, not the least bit surprised by the convoluted response.
The timekeeper didn't seem the least bit insulted by this and simply added, "Even with my staff damaged, I can tell you one thing for certain though, your weapon is the one to be used against the demon. Not some lost blade in the Ghost Zone."
The halfa raised a brow at this but nonetheless turned towards the boulder he had been leaning on earlier. Then, for curiosity's sake, he swiped at the air in the direction of the giant rock. The earth slashed apart at the simple action until it reached the boulder, slicing it into two while spraying rock chips everywhere. Both of the ghosts went intangible to ignore the earthy downfall.
Staring at the gouges in the earth, Vlad brought his blade up and stared at it for a moment, noting the faded yellow symbol … the sign of the ghost that had helped create it. Turning to look at Clockwork's staff, he was certain if he looked he'd find the same symbol there, like an artist that has signed their work.
Dropping his blade back down to his side, wondering why such an old spirit like Hades wanted him to do his dirty work, Vlad asked, "And why in Sam-hell did Hades rip my soul apart to make a new weapon? Certainly, he must have one of his own that he could slice the demon down with."
At this, Clockwork offered a sad smile, his expression seemingly warm yet ultimately painful like he was looking at a faded photograph. "Did you know Persephone was the first halfa to ever exist? She was like a flower that had been shorn from the vine, every cell saturated by ectoplasm after a ghost tried to steal her body. Still, she refused to die, like a plant that grows new roots when it must. And Hades had seen that, seen her, and how he had loved her."
Vlad stalled at this, surprised. He wasn't the first halfa? Danny and him weren't the only ones?
The old ghost continued despite Vlad's obvious surprise, his words tired, "She was a good queen, kind, and a huge source of stability for the Ghost Zone. She loved her children and all the family that belonged to it … which included Hades's nephew, Ares. The bringer of war."
Vlad's brow raised all the way into his hairline, catching on immediately when Clockwork met his gaze. He was playing a chess game with the literal god of war?!
"So," continued Clockwork, his gaze unyielding, "when it came to casting down his nephew, he could not, because when looking around himself, he saw that he had no family left. His wife's core was cracked and gone. He had no brothers or sisters left, nephews or nieces, nor sons or daughters. In his misery, he locked his nephew away and instilled his champions to care for the Ghost Zone. He then fled to the human realm … to search for the reborn soul of his wife."
Twitching at the last part, that Hades had lost his love as well and that reincarnation might be possible, Vlad couldn't help but stumble over his thoughts, "That's an awful lot to unpack in a few sentences, Clockwork. If only you would balance out your information dumps with all your cryptic one-liners from time to time, you might actually be a decent conversationalist."
The timekeeper raised a brow at the dry attempt of humor. They both knew what Vlad was really thinking though … if Maddie was still somewhere out there like Hade's Persephone. In fact, when Vlad started to move his lips, likely to ask that very question, Clockwork shut that thought down, "No Plasmius, rebirth is rare, and even if it was possible, with how the Ghost Zone is right now, all you would find would be one of Are's dogs of war."
Vlad twitched at the thought of Maddie being one of those war dogs. Slowly, he took a deep breath as if to clear his head. He couldn't dwell on that right now. Not with so many pieces in play. He could break down about it later.
Pushing all his feelings down, Vlad continued, "I suppose there's little to be done of it now. At least we have a weapon … too bad it will not allow me to turn human again."
Clockwork hummed as if in thought, leaning on his staff before he stated simply, "Have you tried putting it back where you got it from?"
Vlad gave the ancient ghost a dry look, "One of my first lessons in fencing was that the pointy end goes into other people, not myself."
Chuckling dryly, the time spirit floated closer to Plasmius, stating simply, "While that wasn't the intent of my words, that is an interesting theory. Have you tried stabbing yourself?"
The dry look did not dissipate, the billionaire stating, "I believe I can live without the experience."
"Very well then," said Clockwork, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "We shall try the traditional way of calling your weapon back into oneself. By giving your obsession a name and accepting its place in our core."
Vlad raised a brow. He still wondered if he had a true obsession like all other spirits, but standing there, sword in hand, swirling feelings of regret right under his heart, he knew it to be true. In fact, since he was still partially alive, it was possible to gather more and more regrets. He couldn't help but think that was why Daniel and he were so powerful despite basically being fledgling spirits, cores barely formed.
Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Vlad raised the blade up, the moonlight and stars glinting off the metal. He tilted the blade, watching the stars race away in the reflection. He was trying to feel for a name, trying to find a truth in himself that he'd never admit aloud, the blade soon reflecting things on the ground instead of the sky. It was then that something new reflected in the blade, causing Vlad to halt the slow rotation of his wrist. It was small and almost minuscule with all the life that surrounded them in the forest, and yet its pale little petals begged to be remembered … to not be forgotten as they tried to drink up the moonlight. It was the myosotis arvensis.
"ForgetMeNots," said Vlad aloud, part of him understanding his obsession a little better at that moment. It wasn't just about Maddie … it was about being forgotten, to never be alone again like he had been in that hospital room.
Clockwork nodded his head, stating softly, "A fine name … now call it back into you."
Vlad thought it would be harder or at least would take a few tries, but he merely called the blade by its name. He then released the blade from his hand and watched it break away into particles of pinkish light, each little petal fleeing back to him and seemingly settling where it belonged.
Turning human was then as easy as letting out a breath, the two rings of lights dancing around his form until he was human again. He immediately felt exhausted and yet somehow a little more whole than he had in a while. He had named one of his obsessions … and knowing was half the battle.
…
"This is madness!" barked the warden, his back shoved against Skulkers as they shot and sliced at the clawed limbs of half-formed sinister-like blobs.
They had received a tip about the Trident of Poseidon from one of the lingering souls in the Ghost Zone. She was a siren that swam through the air like water. She had been a tempting figure, beautiful in death … if it weren't for her multitude of teeth and far too wide jaw.
Nonetheless, despite her menacing nature, they had headed to the Dead's Sea. It was a part of the zone where normally those who drowned dwelt as well as the more fish-like spirits.
Now, the ghostly council members found themselves fighting a strange army of devoured ghosts that were a mix of fish spirits and half-formed sinisters. They were nowhere as tough as the strange dog soldiers that they had faced off in the living plane, but their multitude of tentacles and shark teeth made up for it.
Sawing off a giant crab arm before kicking it away, Skulker laughed exhaustedly before stating, "Any-fin is possible. I mean look at us, we're all acting like a team."
Walker, shooting a tentacle away, stalled trying to figure out if that was really what he just heard.
The few snorts he heard around him confirmed that he had indeed been punned.
Ember actually cackled at it, wiping some fish slime off her face as she jested, "You're kraken me up. Making puns at a time like this."
"Whale, what else am I supposed to do at a time like this?" laughed Skulker as he reloaded one of his guns and shot it into the mouth of the shark-like creature that was just about to try and swallow him.
Ember laughed at this, her hair flaring, seemingly in rejuvenation, "I suppose it pays to seas the day."
Walker actually slapped his hand over his face as the two fools laughed to themselves before the girl was off again, bashing something to re-death with her guitar. Skulker stayed with Walker, smiling like a proper fool.
Then, before the skeletal ghost could comment, the armored ghost sighed happily before cheekily adding, "I think I met the gill of my dreams."
Walker could only release a long drawn-out sigh like the very thought of existing a moment more in any of the council's company was torture. He knew it. He was surrounded by goof-balls and man-children. How any of them had ended up on his most wanted list was floundering.
Ugh, great. He was catching the stupid as well.
...
Where was everyone?! How could there not be one ghost in this entire house? Skulker's attic was empty, his favorite guns were gone. Walker's spot in the kitchen was clean, the teapot in the cupboards. Not one computer tried to come alive and kill him, so Technus was gone or the WiFi was down. The armory wasn't very death-defying, Fright Knight nor that Roman ghost were there. And the music room, a collection of instruments hung on the walls as if to purposefully be kept silent, was quiet without a sign of Ember.
Danny knew he should be more worried that he had picked up on all the main ghost's habits, but the cool little core right under his heart seemed to shiver and reach out. It made his heart beat faster in a panicked way like something was very wrong, like one of his major organs was giving out. The cold chill that was going down his entire form didn't help either, especially since he was sweating after running around the castle.
Swallowing, fingers twitching oddly, Danny decided there was only one place left to go … down into the secret lab. He had gained a healthy fear of the place in the last few weeks. First of all, the ghost portal was down there even though it was kept locked. Secondly, it had some major supervillain vibes with all the beakers and odd machinery. Thirdly, the White Lady was down there. He … didn't know how to feel about her. She creeped him out and yet ... she did make the pain go away.
Stumbling into the lab, making sure to look over his shoulder so Linx wouldn't find this secret entrance, Danny headed down into the gloom. He took the steps, mostly because he really didn't want to be confined in the cramped little elevator entrance. Plus, feeling the cold sting of cement on his bare feet was a reminder that he was still alive. It was grounding to feel the cold floor even though his toes were going numb.
The steps quickly left him breathless, the youth fully realizing how weak he really was right now, but that didn't stop him from wandering into the lab fearlessly. He was sure that he'd be surrounded by ghosts or at least a few and yet, like the rest of the castle, it was empty … well, mostly empty.
There, like a haunting painting, sat the ghost portal wide open, throwing its ghoulish green glow all over the lab. It made the whole room feel sinister and yet, despite knowing that he should be far more worried that the portal was open, Danny couldn't help but notice that a lone figure stood before it. Their arms were folded behind their back as if they were merely contemplating the swirl of ghostly colors.
Danny might have thought the figure was human with that black suit and bipedal features, but after stepping closer, he felt a ghost breath escape him. It was almost comforting to have the ability back and yet it completely floored him. He had at least one power back. But why now? Did it have something to do with the grotesque ceremony in the warehouse or was it this breaking feeling in his chest? And worse of all, did that mean Dan was still a possibility?
Tightening his hand on his chest, his body seeming to drive him forward as if hungry to be in the presence of another spirit's aura, the teen stumbled up behind the ghost … And it had to be a ghost given the strange little black wisps of energy that were just escaping the figure, especially around his feet. The teen could barely make out the polished shoes.
Swallowing, hating how weak he felt, the youth's voice crackled as he asked, "Where is everyone? Where's Vlad and the other ghosts?"
The figure tilted his head slightly as if acknowledging the boy's question but did not turn around, not even when Danny added, "And who are you? I don't recognize you as one of the council."
The being hummed in response, before pointing to the portal. "The council has entered the ghost portal, seeking a means to an end, a weapon to slay the demon. Even with their numbers, I doubt they will be fruitful. The Ghost Zone has far more layers and is older than they could know. A city built on top of another city if you will. To find what lies beneath … they will have to confront many old things."
Danny blinked at that, thinking it was an odd statement, but some ghosts were just weird. So, he repeated his first question, "And where is Vlad?"
The figure was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking before stating, "Accepting his faults and the burdens he will soon bear, I would presume."
The teen would have been rolling his eyes, thinking this was the usual cryptic crap that some spirits liked to throw around, but he didn't have time for such games. There was a growing pain in his chest, and though he had a healthy fear of being alone with her too long, the teen asked, "And what of the White Lady? Did she go as well?"
The figure turned his head a bit more, his curiosity obviously peaked, "Why would you need her? Are you injured halfling?"
Tightening the hand on his chest, hating how this hand shook, hating to admit he needed help from a ghost he didn't even know, his reserves crumpled as his chest throbbed oddly, "Maybe … I don't … don't know what's happening. It feels like something is breaking in my chest... like something integral is being taken from me."
At this, the figure finally turned around, as if finally deciding that Danny was worth acknowledging completely. The teen, seeing the face of the ghost, actually stumbled back slightly and gasped, "R... Roger Smith?! Wait? How long have you been dead?!"
As soon as the words left the boy's mouth, he felt stupid. Anyone who died lately was unable to move on … so that meant that Smith had been a ghost this whole time.
"Just so very long … I can't even remember the mortal life I had," said Smith sadly before he turned around completely, looking the boy up and down before his gaze landed on Danny's chest. The youth twitched at the gaze, the look in those glowing eyes setting him on edge, especially when the spirit added, "You keep dwelling on the things he's done to you, don't you? It's like your mind is on repeat … your failures and losses in stark detail."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Besides himself, Danny tightened the hand on his chest, creasing the t-shirt even more.
Smith hummed, his voice deep enough that it echoed over the room. He was a presence, that was for sure, and Danny didn't like it. It reminded him of Dan … or the Demon.
"He's breaking you, isn't he? His torture plays on repeat … mocking you … reminding you of your failures … and of your unfinished business," said the dark being, Smith seeming to give up on controlling the black smoke around him. It was now roaming over his shoulder, twirling around his waist and spreading further across the floor like a thick fog. Danny had to even take a step back when one of the smokey tendrils tried to touch him. The boy's weariness quickly faded though with that last inquiry, about his unfinished business.
He had never really been sure if a halfling could have unfinished business, but now, hand grasping his chest, he knew what the cracking feeling in his chest was. It was his core … a core created by his regrets.
"Halfas like yourself generally return for the benefit of others. Rarely for themselves do they choose a half-life. It is for others, or what they perceive others to need, that they live and that they die as well," said Smith, those black eyes with their glowing yellow core seeming to penetrate into Danny's very soul.
The youth twitched at those words, because, deep down, he knew they were true. He knew what his unfinished business was: he hadn't been ready to leave his family. He had to protect them from the misery of a son taken too soon and anything else that dared harm them.
"I had hoped that … your obsession would shift. That you would find new friends and new family. I had even set up a champion to guard you, to keep fate at bay, but some things cannot be escaped," said Smith with a tired tone as he stepped closer, offering out a hand as if asking for Danny's arm. The scarred arm.
For some reason, feeling like these were the answers he had been after all this time, the youth allowed Smith to have his arm. Danny even allowed him to roll up his sleeve, those long fingers with their golden claws quickly tracing the scar and the black veins that were fleeing from it.
Swallowing, the truth creeping into his mind like a fog lifting in the morning, the teen asked, "I've been a pawn this whole time, haven't I? My life and those around me have been little more than pieces on your and the demon's chess board."
With that comment, Smith released Danny's arm, allowing the boy to roll down his sleeve and wipe his eyes angrily. His words were solemn as he stated, "I'd never put it in terms that simple, but I did nudge a few things to try and keep you safe, Daniel. It was imperative that you remain uncorrupted."
Unable to label this feeling in his throat, the teen choked, "And what? I'm corrupt now? Tell me?! Does the demon want Dan brought back into this world? Dan can't be controlled! He will destroy the world!"
Smith, looming over the boy now as he seemed to become more and more skeletal and spirit-like, shook his head, "Oh my boy, you still don't get it. He doesn't want to control you … he wants to be you. Once a halfa's core cracks it leaves the body open and if another spirit or ghost is fast enough … they can clamor through the cracks and claim the body as their own. In fact, if he loses his grasp on you, on your power, he can't exist in this realm at all."
At those words, Danny felt his breathing hitch and then stall. Everything finally made sense. All the pain, the tears, and agony were to break his spirit and crack his core. The mental attacks were purposefully done as well as his health decline and powerlessness. These last few months of misery had all been done to break him … and Sam bleeding out in front of him was the final straw.
Hand covering his mouth for a moment, part of him unsurprised that Smith seemed to know about Dan as well, the teen pitifully whispered, "There has to be a way to stop this. I … I can't allow Dan to exist again."
Smith sighed and surprisingly walked right passed the boy as if the child was hopeless. Danny turned around, about to beg for help, but then noticed the being was heading into the medical bay. The dark being went over a surgery tray and then picked something up, the ghostly being's shoes clicking ominously as he headed back to the teen. A scalpel sat there, gleaming in his hand as he offered it out to the boy.
The ghostly being's words were calm and yet sunk deeply into the youth's bones like nails into a coffin, "The gods gave free will to mortals so that they could change their fate. Sometimes the options given to those mortals were limited, but it was still theirs to choose… and some choices are harder than others. Tell me, Danny, is your life worth that of the world and the Ghost Zone?"
Eyes widening in horror, the youth shook his head. This couldn't be happening?! This couldn't be the only choice presented to him, and yet Smith took his hand and turned it palm up so he could place the scalpel within the teenager's grasp. He even went so far as to help the youth curl his fingers around the metal tool before looking the halfa in the eye and stating pointedly, "It is your right to choose. Death merely takes those who go … he cannot force their hand."
And with that, Smith left the boy alone … to do what needed to be done.
…
Danny stayed there in the labs staring at the glowing portal before him, unmoving. He looked like a puppet that had had his strings cut, his legs collapsed under him and his arms twisted at his sides. His muscles seemed useless and unused as he sat there on the floor … the scalpel still glinting in one hand. He sat there long enough that the automatic lights in the lab timed out and settled the room into near darkness, the only source of light was the multitude of blinking buttons on the machinery and the green gloom of the portal.
Finally, slowly tightening his grip on the scalpel, the youth released a breath, seemingly breathing for the first time in an hour. No one was coming. None of the ghosts were coming back in time nor Vlad if they were in the Ghost Zone.
He was alone … which seemed right, fitting almost.
Stumbling to his feet, his legs barely functioning after sitting oddly on the floor that long, the youth stumbled out of the lab. This time around his feet were too numb to feel the cold nor the softness of the carpet as he made his way back to his room.
Linx was obviously peeved that he had gone missing, but also seemed to be in too much of a rush to reprimand him. Instead, the man squeezed his shoulder and told him to get some sleep, not even noticing the scalpel in his hand. Not that Danny blamed him. The man was likely calling in the Calvary to fix Danny's mess.
Danny was the reason Sam had come back after all … just to suffer again.
Shuffling across the room, his feet feeling like they were five seconds behind their given commands, the teen found his way to his bed and sat there … staring at the sharp little thing in his hand. It glinted in the light, a blade that promised to part flesh.
Maybe … this was for the best.
Clockwork couldn't help him anymore. The time ghost would have already come to him if he could. No one could help him. He just had to be the hero one more time … just one last time.
He had to save the world from himself.
Smiling bitterly at the thought of how much he had given, of the blood sweat, and tears. And yet, it was ultimately meaningless. Had his existence changed anything? Had he truly saved anyone? In the end, he would just become another one of the world's villains.
Unsurprisingly, the sound of footsteps filled the room as if summoned by his thoughts. Then, slowly, a figure sat down next to him, the smell of smoke following after. Danny immediately knew who it was … by their sooty shoes alone. He tried to bare no mind to the claws poking through the leather, or the longer clawed fingers that rested on his sheets. He refused to look … because he knew what was happening. Yet another reminder of his failures.
"Hey, Danny," finally came a voice, too guttural and deep to be that of a teenage boy, yet still so familiar. It was like the skeleton of a house that had burned down. You knew it for what it was, for what it had been in your memories, even blackened and charred as it was.
Feeling wetness gather in his eyes, knowing the voice of his best friend even though it had taken on a monstrous quality, Danny whispered, "Hello Tucker."
"Smith … said I could come … and sit beside you. That it wasn't fair for you to be alone … in the end," said Tucker, his voice catching like the words were almost too cruel to say.
Danny's vision blurred as tears gathered there, daring to fall but not quite there yet. The youth whispered, "Aren't you going to talk me out of it? Aren't you going to tell me to keep fighting? To never give in?"
"... A part of me wants to say that," finally came a soft response, the shame evident in Tucker's voice, "But I want to be selfish as well. I want the pain to stop. I want to be allowed to die and pass on to the realm beyond. Being trapped here in this realm is pain for a traveling spirit, Danny. So, I will not stop you, but as your friend, I will at least be at your side until you're ready to go."
And with that, Danny finally turned his head, the first of many tears rolling down his face as he took in the monstrous visage of his best friend. There sat a sinister, a dog soldier with a dripping maw and dagger long claws, harsh features intermingled with Tucker's charred visage. There were still traces of shredded green pants, the remnants of yellow sleeves … and a red cap. Tucker was turning into one of those things.
Even though he was a few heads taller than Danny now, Tucker still somehow offered a smile to the other teen. Even with all those teeth and that marred face, it was a sad thing. A knowing smile. The type of smile offered while you held the hand of a dying companion.
"Tucker … why … why are you turning into one of those things?" asked Danny, feeling another tear escape him. Part of his mind was screaming to flee, to run, and yet he felt no need to listen to his survival instincts. He just continued to sit there, head tilted upward to make up for the height difference.
Tucker scratched his scruffy black mane by his neck. He seemed to be looking for the right words before he sighed and stated, "Wandering spirits aren't meant to linger, Danny. They are given a moment to stay or go, but Ares has taken that choice from us all. The gates to the beyond are shut. We can neither stay nor go … and so was grow feral and angry like starved dogs. Just the way Ares wants us. And, though Hades has kept my madness at bay, I feel it sneaking in, like a growing hunger. I will not belong to myself much longer."
Another tear rolled down Danny's face, part of his mind accepting that this was his fault as well. His friend was turning into a monster.
Swallowing, looking down at the scalpel, his hand shook as he offered it to Tucker, his voice breaking as he asked, "Will … will you do it for me? I don't think I have the strength."
Tucker, large and monstrous as he was, offered that sad smile again, a bloody tear now falling down his dog-like face, "I can't … Death cannot interfere with free will."
Still holding that little metal blade out, the tip glinting, Danny could only whisper, "Oh …"
Then, slowly, he took the blade back into his lap, staring at it.
Tucker swallowed like the words were almost too painful to speak, yet he spoke regardless, "I will sit here until you're ready. It's the least I can do."
…
And so the shadows shifted in the room as the night threatened to become day. Tucker sat with him the whole time. There was no need for words between them. They were both just waiting … and the wait finally felt ready. It was time to go.
Slowly, Danny rose to his feet, unable to look at Tucker for he wanted to remember him as he was and not in this monstrous form. His words were a whisper, a goodbye to the night and all the hours that would follow, "I … should do it in the bathroom. It … I don't want it to be hard to clean up. I owe Vlad that much."
Tucker merely nodded, the other teen's voice almost breaking as he asked, "Do you want me to sit beside you … while it is done?"
Standing there for a moment, part of him terrified at the idea of being alone, Danny found he couldn't do that to Tucker. He couldn't make his friend watch the light fade from his eyes. And so, words so soft that they were barely said at all, Danny said, "No … I will take this final step alone."
And so, picking up the photograph of his family that had been on his bedside, Danny made his way into the restroom. He did not feel the cold stone floors or the chilled sides of the tub as he sat down in it, still fully clothed.
He had spent the last few hours recalling his short life … and he supposed it was good enough. It was time to save the world one last time. He was tired of the pain anyway.
And so, rubbing his thumb over the faces of his family, he promised to release them to the beyond … and he'd be following along soon. The demon could not keep the realm without him after all.
Danny didn't even blink as he brought the scalpel to his wrist. He felt its steel kiss, sharp and unforgiving, and then there were the first droplets of red. It was like little red petals falling from a tree and to the ground. But the droplets became a stream, a babbling brook of regrets and dreams fleeing from him. It was beautiful, that color.
It might have taken a minute for the bottom of the tub to fill, maybe an hour, but as Danny's heart shivered and struggled and faltered ... the boy did not panic. He was going home.
And with that ... the boy's heart beat no more.
XXX
Paw07: The whole bloody chapter had to be rewritten. It was 16,000 words long and I had to edit most of it. It hadn't received edits since its original publication date … so young-teen-me writing. .
Anyway, I added the Vlad and Clockwork scene. I also sent the main ghosts away conveniently. I then changed up the Tucker and Danny scene a little at the end, but this chapter's end is mostly the same. It's meant to hurt and it was so hard to write. That's probably why I've been sitting on it for months. Nonetheless, I hope the angst's sufficient. I want people to feel like they've had their heart ripped out only to be beaten with it. If I make people cry. I'll consider it a job well done.
