TW: Mentions of animal abuse, unethical human experiments, and foul language

(4:21 PM, FRIDAY, MARCH 29)

Danny loathes jinxes with a passion that transcends mere hatred; it's as though the universe is personally flipping him the bird amidst the chaos of his life.

"Stop! Let go of me!"

"Not when you dared to trespass on school property, young lady!"

Danny looked up at the sky, silently pleading for some divine intervention. Beside him, Tucker emitted a groan of exasperation. Meanwhile, Sam's incredulous expression spoke volumes.

"...Didn't we just talk about her a minute ago?" she muttered.

The trio had just reached the final step of their school's entrance stairs when distant shouts caught their attention.

Their reactions said it all as they took in the scene before them. A young girl was held tightly in the grasp of Mr. Lancer, her disheveled appearance speaking volumes. With unruly pitch-black hair, a faded blue hoodie, and tattered red pants paired with a matching hat, all covered in dirt, she stood defiantly, glaring at the portly figure looming over her.

Naturally, Danny recognized the figure – it was Danielle, the main culprit behind his nightmares.

It is the Mayor's responsibility to intervene in any issues and resolve them, even those about their school.

"Mr. Lancer! Hold on!" Tucker hurried towards them, frantically waving his arms to get his teacher's attention.

His efforts paid off as Mr. Lancer turned away from the intruder, puzzled by the unexpected interruption, while Danielle, recognizing the voice, felt a rush of relief.

"Foley?!"

"Tucker!"

Both exclaimed simultaneously.

After a moment, Tucker finally caught up to them, panting heavily. "Whew... Let me catch my breath for a moment," he managed between gasps. His stamina could use some improvement for such short distances.

Mr. Lancer furrowed his brows at the breathless teen. "What's going on, Mr. Foley?" he inquired, his tone firm but not unkind.

While the teacher took pride in Tucker's role as mayor at such a young age, it didn't mean he'd be lenient. In his school, he held authority over his students, mayor or not.

"Mr. Lancer, please… Cough... release the girl." Tucker pleaded, still struggling to catch his breath.

"And why should I, Mr. Foley?" Mr. Lancer's tone is firm.

"Because she is my cousin," Danny interjected firmly, joining Tucker as he and Sam hurried over to diffuse the situation.

With a quick gesture towards the girl, Danny continued, "Mr. Lancer, meet my distant cousin, Danielle. Danielle, meet my teacher, Mr. Lancer."

"Distant cousin?" Mr. Lancer's skeptical gaze bore down on Danielle, causing her to wince as he tightened his grip on her arm. "I don't recall hearing about any cousins from Fenton before."

"That's what we thought too. Until four months ago, Danielle showed up to visit Danny," Sam added, stepping forward. "Since then, Danny knows about her relation to him."

"Exactly," Danny replied with a quick nod. "My cousin always keeps things interesting. Her unexpected visits are just part of her charm." He chuckled lightly, wishing that this conversation would already end.

Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he remarked, his gaze shifting to Danielle.

The girl felt a surge of nervousness as his eyes bore into her, but she managed to muster a smile. Despite her disheveled appearance, the family resemblance to Danny was undeniable.

"So please, sir, release my cousin. I'm sincerely sorry for her intrusion and any inconvenience it may have caused. From where she lived, she's not accustomed to our customs here," Danny pleaded earnestly.

Mr. Lancer's demeanor softened as if Danny had uttered a magic phrase, and he gently loosened his grip on Danielle. She dashed toward her "cousin" and embraced him, a gesture Danny returned warmly.

"And regarding her dirty appearance—"

"It's alright."

"Huh?" Danny glanced at his teacher, confused.

"Ah, encountering another wild Fenton, or someone from the dumpster, isn't exactly a novelty for me," Mr. Lancer remarked, casting a slightly disdainful glance at Tucker, who bristled at the implied insult.

"And Danielle? While our first meeting wasn't ideal, I remain optimistic that our next encounter might be more... civilized," the teacher addressed the young girl, his expression softening momentarily before a small smile graced his lips. "Just a friendly suggestion: it would be appreciated if you could notify the office before your next visit. And let's aim for, say, two months from now, because that time would be when the new school year starts."

"Enjoy your vacation, everyone," Mr. Lancer bid farewell to the group, nodding politely before turning on his heel and–

"Great Gatsby, why are you all just standing there?! This isn't a show for your amusement. Move along!" Mr. Lancer scolded the gathering crowd, relieved to see that Dash and Kwan were not among them.

With that, the teacher calmly headed back inside the school.

Concern etched Danny's face as he looked down at the young girl in his embrace.

"Danielle," he began, and she was startled at the mention of her name. "I'd like to hear everything about what happened, but right now, your well-being is my priority. You need a bath, food, and new clothes."

Danielle didn't muster her usual wittiness as she was released from the hug. The rebellious edge she had displayed with Mr. Lancer earlier had dissipated, leaving behind a weariness that mirrored the expressions of Danny and Tucker. Uncharacteristic timidity overshadowed her typically bubbly demeanor. The prominent eye bags on her face gave her an aged appearance, hiding her actual youthfulness.

"Let's head home," Sam sighed, beginning to feel the exhaustion from dealing with the conversations.

(Danny's room: 8:49 PM, FRIDAY, MARCH 29)

Tucker and Sam's furious outburst echoed through the room, punctuated by the resounding thud of their fists hitting the desk.

"What the hell?!" Tucker exclaimed, his voice strained with anger, eyes fixed on Danny's computer screen.

"Yeah, we always knew he was messed up, but this?" Sam added, her voice trembling with a blend of fury and disgust.

The video playing before them depicted Vlad Masters as Plasmius in his sinister lab, surrounded by a menagerie of twisted experiments and bubbling concoctions. The scenes were too ghastly to fully comprehend, leaving Tucker to repeatedly pause the footage to dash to the bathroom, overcome with waves of nausea.

Sam's hands clenched into tight fists, the bandages around her bloodied palms testifying to her struggle to contain her rage. "I swear, I'll make him pay for this," she muttered through gritted teeth, her eyes locked on the digital image of Plasmius.

The Plasmius in the video remained engrossed in his work, conversing casually with the holographic projection of Maddie Fenton as if oblivious to the revulsion and anger he had incited.

"It is currently day eighty-nine. The cloning project is still ongoing. Maddie, dear, how is C-108's stability?"

"39% stabilized. However, according to my calculations, C-108 will soon reach its limit at 45% stability."

"C-109?"

"40% is the maximum."

"C-110?"

"49% is the maximum."

"...And C-111?"

"38% is the maximum."

"Damn them all!" Plasmius seethed, hurling his clipboard at a nearby wall, leaving a noticeable dent.

"That Fenton boy's DNA is as worthless as his father's!" the ghost spat. "I've poured over research, meticulously planned out contingencies, and invested every ounce of effort into this wretched project, yet look at this! Nothing ever works!"

In a fit of rage, Plasmius unleashed his frustration on an innocent dog, with consequences best left unspoken.

Tucker dashed to the bathroom yet again, while Sam let out a roar of fury. "I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!"

Minutes later, Tucker returned, his face drained of color. But the ordeal wasn't over; another video played before he could fully compose himself.

"It is currently the one-hundred and twenty-ninth day of this cloning project." Vlad's voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber, his figure illuminated only by the eerie glow of the video feed. He sat in his opulent chair, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the camera.

"A mere month ago, driven by what some might label as sheer desperation, I dared to achieve what the scientific community deemed impossible," Vlad continued, a twisted grin creeping across his features. "I succeeded in creating a human embryo."

A hollow chuckle reverberated. "And the cherry on top? Not a drop of human bodily fluids tainted my hands. No, I'm not that depraved," he scoffed, his amusement unsettling to behold. "All my little experiments were conducted using stem cells. Mere stem cells."

"I'll spare the hapless soul who stumbles upon this recording the gory details," Vlad remarked, a glint of madness flickering in his eyes. "Suffice it to say, I manipulated the cells to my whims, and now, a nascent life gestates within my sanctum."

The video feed transitioned, revealing the inner sanctum of Vlad's macabre laboratory. At its heart loomed a cloning vat, depicted in sci-fi tales. Suspended within its greenish ectoplasmic solution floated the embryonic form, painting a grotesque amalgamation of science and sin.

"Though still in its embryonic stages, this stands as irrefutable evidence of my ceaseless toil," Vlad declared, his voice resounding with an unsettling mixture of pride and derangement. "While birthed through artificial means, this abhorrent creation bears the genetic imprint of Danny Fenton, with ectoplasm serving as a substitute for a maternal womb. In the crudest sense, this fetus is... his offspring."

BANG!

Tucker had bolted out of the bedroom, leaving Sam alone to grapple with the aftermath. Hastily, she terminated the video and removed the flash drive (plugged into Danny's computer) Danielle had handed over earlier, with only the instruction to watch it. Despite their persistent questions, Danielle had remained tight-lipped during their walk home, leaving the trio in a state of perplexity.

Now, after watching some of the videos stored in the small object, Sam found the answer to all her questions.

Turning her attention to the figures on the bed, Sam observed the scene before her. Danielle sat wearing Jazz's old clothes, her posture closed off, masking any hint of her feelings. Beside her, Danny stared into the void, his face a mask of unsettling calmness. Yet, the subtle tremors of their bodies were unmistakable, betraying their internal turmoil.

A suffocating silence descended upon the room. It stretched on as though time itself had frozen in the wake of revelation.