Chapter Text
Danny is… Attacked
Part 1 | Chapter 2
"The power you wield....such a burden, isn't it, child?"
– Pariah Dark
The day the King Stone reveals a new name, the ghosts disappear from the human world.
Connected as they are to the stone, no ectoplasmic entity is willing to miss the unveiling of a worthy King; the first to wake the dormant artifact since the Ancients sealed the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.
When the elder Halfa released the former King, the stone remained quiet. Some speculated. Some wondered. Some worried.
Pariah Dark ruled a time before most ghosts were formed, and they both hope and fear the coronation of a new king. Ghosts dwelling deep in the Zone follow the call of the King Stone, for they have existed since the dawn of time, and surely they were chosen.
Only the most powerful of ghosts are called for the crown. The King is said to balance the very Zone itself.
Pariah Dark ordered ruin upon the human world, ruin to sympathizers, ruin to newly formed ghosts robbing the Zone of the very ectoplasm that sustained it. He wielded royal symbols of power and reigned with an iron fist. None stood against him until the Ancients revoked his crown.
The King Stone calls to them, but it is curiosity that compels them. They wait - for days if they must – as ghosts both newly formed and close to Second Death crowd the stone to watch the King’s name read Pariah Dark for the final time. As the name fades, the dawning of a new era begins.
Few were there for the last king, but enough remember what was left in his wake to ponder his parting words.
Know that it is I who rescued you. It is I who guided you. It is I who warned you of what is to come!
A shift in ectoplasm and the stone changes. Spectators at the back of the crowd need not look upon the stone to know something is wrong. Whispers carry. No one expected unanimous agreement – not with a royal history bathed in blood and ruin – but none had prepared for this.
Heed my words and listen well: know when the end is nigh, know destruction by it’s name–
The stone displays it’s chosen like a taunt . Not a ghost, not even a human. A Halfa. An abomination.
A life-thief.
–beware the false king who wears the crown.
Far beyond the raging crowd where whispers cannot reach, those who sealed Pariah’s tomb answer a familiar call. They rise from their stasis to taste the air, heavy with a signature; fresh – alive, it seems.
Creatures – if one can call them such – known as Ancients smell the life clinging to the new King and set off to deliver First Death. They do not have the ability to question the choice, the delivery, nor the execution of the task.
The Ancients listen, not speak. They follow, not think. They serve, not be. They dethrone and crown Kings for the good of the Zone.
This is their purpose.
They depart for the human world in search of their King.
Jasmine Fenton remembers watching Danny the morning it began. He was eating cereal, often missing his mouth as per usual, and looking out the window.
“Sunrise is that way, space-case,” Jazz said, pointing in the opposite direction.
“Fascinating.”
“Just saying, you’re a little out of it today.”
Danny hummed. His scowl was well practiced against her.
Jazz remembers grabbing their dishes and looking back to where Danny had resumed watching the western window.
She tries to remember his expression – she tries to remember anything else about that morning – but when she closes her eyes, all she can picture is the back of Danny’s head.
William Lancer remembers the familiar sound of Danny Fenton racing into class.
“Late, again, Mr. Fenton,” he commented. When an excuse didn’t follow, Lancer raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said, looking his student over. “A response is generally expected.”
Daniel continued breathing heavily by the doorway. Lancer sighed, snapping the class book together.
“Just sit.”
He hoped the disappointment in his voice was enough to shock Daniel into remembering he was a student and not a street ruffian, or whatever he got up to these days.
Daniel shuffled to his seat. Dash stuck out his foot, catching Fenton's so that he tripped, crashing his weight against Star's desk. She snapped at him to watch where he's going.
“Unruly behavior will not be tolerated,” Lancer droned, a sentence stale with continued use.
Dash crossed his arms. “Well, maybe Fenton shouldn’t skip classes and leave me with all the work.”
Lancer replied with practice, guiding the discussion back to the text they read before the disruption. Absently, he recalled that Daniel and Dash shared four morning classes. Daniel suffered from severe absenteeism, but skipping several periods? Perhaps this was the first sign of escalating behavior.
Lancer remembers wondering how far the boy ran when he sees Danny shaking at his desk.
Officer Kim remembers how dark it was that night. He remembers how scared he felt.
You’ll see I’m right. There’s a big one coming.
Leave it. He’s just tryna frighten you, Kim.
The lack of ghost sightings had everyone at the Amity Park precinct on-edge. It was unusual. Not new, but anything out of the ordinary where ghosts were concerned made people nervous.
They come back after a few days. No amount of prayer’ll keep ‘em away for long.
Still, Kim tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and kept his eyes peeled. Night patrol wasn’t typically required, but wherever the ghosts had gone, Phantom had gone with them. The looming thought no one wanted to entertain (that Phantom refused to return or, you know, something even worse – the GIW were suspiciously quiet) had even the most vocal anti-ghost rhetoric leveling off.
It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Who even raised the shoe in the first place? Couldn’t they just set it down gently?
The radio sparked to life. “Officer Kim, report.”
“10-4.”
“Understood. Over.”
Kim returned his hands to the wheel, watching another group of teenagers leave everyone’s favorite local joint. He ignored his growling stomach at the sight of greasy fries and delicious burgers; it would be a long night if he gave in to temptation too quickly.
A figure suddenly ran past his vehicle and darted down the left street. It happened fast enough that his imagination might have played him for a fool.
Kim blinked, then slowly pulled to follow.
The streetlights illuminated a shadow racing along the sidewalk, hugging the wall. Kim flashed his lights and pulled just behind the figure.
“Hey! You in any kind of trouble, kid?”
The figure froze like a deer in red and blue strobe lights. Young, by the looks of it.
Officer Kim left the lights on and stepped out of the vehicle. The figure was breathing hard with wild eyes. Drugs, maybe?
“Go,” the figure croaked.
“Can’t do that, buddy. Why don’t you tell me what you’re taking, and we can get you some help.”
“You have–” the figure breathed, “you have to get out of here.”
“Yep, we’ll do just that”–
Kim blinked – a second, that’s all – then the kid was on the ground. Afraid he fainted, Kim rushed forward, fingers pushing his radio to speak––––––
That evening, at the precinct, the receiving radio came to life.
“10-52–on st– HOLY MOTHER–” Metal scraped cement.
The monitoring officer grabbed the radio and rushed to another room. A second officer looked up at his abrupt entrance.
“NO!” the radio continued. The voice was not an adult’s.
The second officer made a call, talking furiously through the phone. The transmission resumed with indistinguishable noises, then words.
“Oh my god saint mary joseph jesus FUCKING christ”–
The monitoring officer pressed a button on the device.
“Officer Kim, report your condition,” the man shouted.
“Do ghosts make sandwiches, you think?”
“Kim?”
“They must, I mean” – there’s the sound of something distinctly wet – “you’ve got to spread the jam somehow. That’s what knives are for”– another wet sound – “spreading jam.”
It was quiet. Then, a whisper:
“There’s so much blood.”
The Chief of Police remembers comparing the size of the couch to the kid sitting on it.
“You’re looking better than the last time we saw you,” Ray offered. They saw him yesterday.
Danny Fenton looked stubbornly at his feet. The Fentons parents hovered nervously behind the couch.
“I’ll admit, we’re out of our depth here. Ghosts are a staple, we’ve been writing new procedures for them since day one”– the kid snorted – “but trying to kill someone? With a knife? That’s new.”
“No it isn’t,” Daniel said.
“Collateral damage, sure – a building falling here or there – not this. Not intentional targeting.”
The kid was quiet.
“Daniel.”
“Danny.”
“Alright, Danny, help us out here. I have two kids, two beautiful girls, and I need to know they’re going to be safe.”
“What?”
The startled look made Ray’s mind race. Whatever the kid had done, he hadn’t thought much about the consequences.
“Did you read a book, or chant a cool spell, or steal from a grave for a prank to impress your friends? Maybe you fired something from your parents’ lab– just messing around.”
Danny’s face flew through a range of emotions. The expression it settled on was hard to name.
“No.”
“Accidents happen, Danny. If you summoned something, even by accident, the only way we can make sure no one gets hurt again”–
The mother chose that moment to break her silence.
"How dare you suggest my son brought this on himself while he sits there, in pain from"– Mrs. Fenton was unable to finish, but her clenched fists got the point across well enough.
“I apologize, that is not my intention, but our best guess for last night’s incident involving your son is retribution.”
Ray eyed the Fenton parents who hovered anxiously behind the boy. A good family, but most likely involved in the attack somehow. Their knowledge of ghosts and access to otherworldly artifacts was nothing to joke about.
“I believe it is your research, Mrs. Fenton, that theorizes supernatural targeting as ‘intense emotion provoked by vengeance, retribution, and offense,’ so, please, Danny, you’re not in any trouble, but we’d like to make things right.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
The Chief looked at Danny Fenton, tired, bandaged, bloody and bruised with a knife wound in his side, and wanted to believe him.
So he said, “Okay,” and bid the Fenton family a good night.
Ray wishes he’d stayed longer, that he’d pushed a little harder, but more than anything he wishes he’d been kinder because the more they trace Danny Fenton’s footsteps, the more he realizes how much the kid needed it.
The Chief of Police remembers how small Danny Fenton looked in his own living room.
Sam Manson remembers Danny watching the portal.
Clockwork would have answers, they’d reasoned: why the ghosts were avoiding Amity Park, why the murder-ghosts wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Danny had faced the portal with a plan that fell to pieces the longer Sam and Tucker watched him stare.
“Danny?” Tucker said.
When the seconds dragged on, they covered his eyes to break whatever connection Danny was caught in. His eyes were wide. He was scared.
“I’ll go,” Sam offered.
Danny jerked like he’d been shocked. “No.”
He couldn’t get his breathing under control. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t explain it, but Danny gripped his chest tightly and said that something screamed at him to look the other way. To run.
They went upstairs and asked the Fentons for stronger thermoses.
Tuckey Foley remembers the excitement.
Ghosts calling Danny ‘King?’ Awesome. Danny would have the power to beat anyone. He could order the ghosts to leave Amity Park alone. He’d have all the benefits of ‘Fun Danny’ without having to give up being Phantom – it was perfect!
The attempted murder that followed? Less awesome.
Ghosts enjoyed an honorable battle, Tucker thought. Besides Skulker, who didn’t seem to care which form Danny took, his enemies waited for him to transform. Perhaps ‘waited’ wasn’t the correct word, but they liked fighting him in ghost form and never exposed his Halfa status.
If normal ghosts wanted Danny at his best, these new guys wanted him vulnerable, trapped – dead .
Danny didn’t sleep the first night. At school, Tucker remembered jumping at shadows that suddenly wielded human weapons like they didn’t want Danny breathing anymore. They waited until he was human, then attacked without hesitation.
Fighting didn’t work, it just made Danny tired, and they liked him tired. The thermos captured them if Danny beat them up enough, but Sam worried how quickly they’d recover.
The second night, after the police left and Danny’s bandages were changed, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton held Danny for a long time. They activated the house’s full arsenal of ghost defense and sent the kids to bed.
The three friends held hands on Danny’s bed as he fell asleep with faraway eyes, watching the window. Tucker looked at the way the shadows highlighted the purple blush of his skin until it made him sick.
He woke to the sound of his best friend suffocating.
Valerie Grey despised ghosts with every fiber of her being, but when sweet Danny Fenton was the target, her blood boiled .
The first day, she glimpsed Phantom sucking ghost after ghost into his thermos. He looked tired; overwhelmed. Valerie hated how her heart pounded at the thought.
Then, Danny decided to be a fool – as if he had any right to tell her to let him die.
“Don’t attack,” he’d shouted from the hallways of Casper High.
Valerie was lucky she’d needed to use the restroom because whatever these ghosts were, they didn’t show on her radar until she was right in front of them. She remembered the way Danny stared at her masked face.
“You can’t beat them.”
She spent the third day covered in ectoplasm. Danny skipped school, but instead of finding him at Fenton Works in need of protection, she found the ghosts. They hovered outside like they were waiting for him to come home, and Valerie saw red.
You can’t beat them. You can’t beat them. You can’t beat them.
They barely looked at her. She tore through them and they barely looked at her. Their healing was like nothing she’d ever seen, but it was their apathy that made her desperate.
“Fight me!” Valerie screamed.
She remembers collecting her weight in ectoplasm. Could the Fentons hear her battle? Did they see how many knew where they lived?
She screamed until her throat bled, but they never attacked. It was her exhaustion that eventually did her in. Black spots entered her vision and she tipped forward off her board; neither high enough to trigger the board’s automatic recovery, nor conscious enough to manually call it.
Cold hands caught her, flying away from Fenton Works at a speed that stunned her. The ghosts didn’t follow.
Phantom’s eyes bore into hers. “You can’t beat them.”
Valerie Grey remembers anger that burned so hot it bled from her throat.
Tucker’s scream played in Maddie Fenton’s head like white noise.
He and Sam weren’t strong enough to move the ghost’s hands, so by the time Maddie and Jack threw open the door, Jazz was trying to burn the pillow that covered her brother’s mouth.
Jack fired. It hit.
The ghost fled and Maddie held Danny in her arms. There were purple bruises along his eyes from lack of oxygen and his fingers twitched against her back. They breathed together.
She held her baby and saw Tucker on the ground, Sam pressed against the wall, Jazz clinging to Danny’s space sheets like he’d disappear if she let go.
They talked about pulling Danny out of school that day. He’d refused, stubborn as any Fenton. He didn’t want to give a minute of his life to these ghosts or be away from his friends.
“It doesn’t matter where I am,” Danny had said. “They find me.”
Maddie’s hands shook when they shut the portal that morning. They shook when she and Jack set up every protection they’d ever invented in Danny’s room. They shook when the school called to ask why Danny wasn’t in first period.
“He’ll be okay. He’s a Fenton,” Jack reassured her. They watched the door from the living room couch.
“Why would he do this when he’s in so much danger?”
“Teenagers are like that, Mads. They think they can run from their problems. We did a fair bit of running ourselves back in college.”
“He’s fifteen and scared and we’re not there to protect him,” she worried.
We can’t protect him.
Outside the window, a flash of red spun high above the house. Maddie and Jack watched the door.
They slept like that, cuddled on the couch. Jazz came home from school – without Danny in tow – and settled between them with a blanket. Whenever Tucker’s scream rang in the silence, Maddie held her closer.
Danny came home the next morning. The ghosts did too.
Maddie remembers that she didn’t even have time to scold him.
Kwan remembers the conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear.
Fenton and another kid missed first period, nothing new, but when Lancer sent him to deliver attendance to the discipline office, whispers from the teachers’ lounge grabbed him by the jacket collar.
– “think someone could have intentionally sent”–
“I’m saying”–
A whisper of Fenton’s name caught his attention.
Kwan saw himself as a relatively good student. He resisted temptation for ten seconds, which was ten seconds longer than Dash would have. He checked the hall, then stopped before the cracked door to listen.
“The kid’s not exactly well liked.”
“Jameson”–
–”By students! Being a Fenton puts a target on his back.”
“There is a line between bullying and assassination.”
“Either way, someone ends up dead.”
“Holy”–
“Don’t”–
Kwan’s mind raced faster than his feet ran for the office. To this day, he wishes he hadn’t stopped.
RECORD OBTAINED FROM AMITY PARK NEWS
TIME: 00:00:00:00
Day four of abnormal ghost sightings.
“Mic check. Testing mic one, testing. This is Kate Wethern speaking on microphone one.”
“Bit muffled. Check your collar.”
“Bloody lavaliers. How’s this? Testing mic one, testing.”
“Alright, mic two.”
“This is Johnathon Davis on microphone two. Testing mic two, testing.”
“Mic check complete. Standby.”
“We’ve got the Fenton’s ecto-whatever update again.”
“You’ve said it enough times to know it’s called ectoplasm, John.”
“A year ago, this stuff wouldn’t have made it past our inbox.”
“I know, John."
“Other states get sinkholes, but no, we have to report natural portals to another dimension. A dead dimension.”
“I’ve heard it before, John.”
“Counting down in three, two, –––”
“Hello, and welcome to Amity Park News. I’m Johnathon Davis.”
“And I’m Kate Wetheren. In a moment, we’ll hear from an expert on our new segment, “Where the Ghosts Have Gone.” Have your phones at the ready– we want to hear your theories using #GoneGhostsAPN. Tag us for your chance to be featured.'
“As for now, right on the dot, it’s time for this week's report on ectoplasmic activity . If you take a look at this chart, the Fentons predict high levels of exposure near James St. and Claire Cr., so if you’re planning a movie night with someone special, let’s hope you get a refund on those tickets!”
“Speaking of the Fentons, John, I heard there’s something stirring with the youngest of the family. What can you tell us?”
“What can’t I tell you, Kate? It’s the talk of the town! As you know, Thursday was the last reported ghost sighting in Amity Park, including the last time anyone caught a glimpse of Phantom. Not too unusual, of course. What is unusual is the most recently filed police ecto-report.”
“So the ghosts are back, then?”
“Not exactly. On the screen you’ll see an approximate sketch by a witness as to what did return.”
“Wow, the hair on my arms is standing up!”
“And the most interesting part is yet to come. How often would you say a ghost attack results in casualties?”
“Hmmmm, that’s a tough one, John. There’s three or four reports a day, so I’d say minor injuries are pretty frequent, but life-threatening injuries are rare."
“Right on the money! In the past year, we’ve had a grand total of two ghost-related deaths – one due to a collapsed building, and another from smoke inhalation and a pre-existing health condition. So it’s safe to say that ghosts don’t actively attempt to kill us.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but ghosts definitely favor monologues over murder.”
“‘I AM THE BOX GHOST.’ Hahaha.”
“Impeccable impression, John.”
“As it turns out, these funny-looking fellows have a bone to pick with the Fentons, Daniel Fenton, to be precise. The police ecto-report states that four days ago, around midnight, they startled an officer and gave Daniel Fenton quite the nasty stab wound.”
“I’m sorry, did you say stab wound ?”
“Indeed I did, Kate. As far as I’m aware – and I do pride myself by keeping up with the news, hahaha – this is the first reported incident of attempted murder by a ghost.”
“You could be right, John. Amity Park has been thrust into The Ghost Zone, our mayor was held hostage, and we’ve even got ourselves a reformed superhero; but my mind is having trouble imagining a ghost stealing knives: ‘Let’s see if I remember where all the vital organs are!’ Stab .”
“It’s certainly new for this supernatural hotspot we call home. Amity Park News Reporter Saisha Dean caught this clip when attempting to interview the youngest Fenton earlier today.”
“Oh– Oh my! Wow! That was– well, I don’t quite know what to say to that.”
“Well, I sure do! No matter what the future holds, one thing’s for certain, stay away from Daniel Fenton this week. Hahaha.”
“Hahaha. We’ll be right back after the break.”
“Hold–––– and we’re clear. Great job.”
TRANSCRIPT END
TIME: 00:02:21:00
[see additional documents].
Star remembers how quiet it’d get when Danny Fenton entered a room.
At school, noise rose wherever Fenton went, so the stark contrast of silence in response to his entrance at any store held her tongue. The atmosphere felt thrown.
On the fourth morning, he entered the local café and ignored them.
One of his superpowers, Star thought, the ability to filter everyone out. Could he feel how many eyes were watching his every move? Did he see how afraid they were of what his presence meant?
After ordering a coffee, he stood alone by the counter.
Imagine what being a student of Casper High must feel like, Star thought, watching a family scurry out the door. If Amity Park was a hotspot before Fenton’s presence, Casper High was the epicenter since day one of ghost attacks – without his influence.
She took a picture to send to Paulina. Her fingers typed out, “Look who’s coming to school today,” and added a picture of a ghost. Star’s nails hovered over the image, tracing the dark circles under Danny’s eyes and the slouched posture of his shoulders. She clicked send.
When Danny Fenton left the shop, it was like Amity Park itself remembered to breathe.
Paulina remembers her bravery.
The cowards of Casper High were no match for her friends when they dared to sit next to Fenton during lunch.
“Sup, losers!” Dash called, wrapping an arm around Fenton’s shoulder.
Paulina put on her most pleasant smile and slid next to Manson. Star hesitantly sat on one side of Foley, while Kwan took the other.
“Not today,” Danny said.
“Like you’ve got a choice, Fen-tonail.”
Paulina tapped Dash’s hand across the table. He rolled his eyes, easing his arm off of Danny.
“Whatever,” Dash grumbled, “don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not like we want to eat lunch with you freaks in the first place.”
“Then why have you so kindly graced us with your presence?”
“Ha! Like we’d ever be scared of some dumb ghosts,” Kwan announced, posing his arms above his head in a show of strength. “We’d take them down in seconds.”
“Please,” Manson said, “do try.”
“No,” Foley said.
Paulina dared to reach for Manson – Sam’s – painted nails. She raised their locked fingers in a show of bravery that would impress even Phantom! Ma– Sam looked horrified.
“We’ve been practicing since the pirate and pop star wannabee totally hypnotized our parents,” Paulina cheered, tightening her grip when Sam tried to pull away. “Phantom would be so impressed with our ghost hunting!”
“Yeah! Just ‘cause some ghosts think Fenton’s an easy target, doesn’t mean we’ll run away scared,” Dash added, raising his voice over the whispers of the cafeteria.
Paulina hoped their cowardly classmates were appropriately awed by their bravery. A few faces looked down when she glared.
“Then you’ll stop trying to scare us?” Foley asked.
“No way!” Dash laughed, slapping Foley – Tucker’s – back.
“It’s your fault for being so easy,” Star shrugged. “You’re making people think there’s something to be scared of.”
Paulina felt Sam’s stare burn like ice. Tucker and Danny kept their heads lowered to the table.
“Right,” Sam said, voice tight. “Of course.”
“So,” Paulina nodded, pulling out her rice and chicken meal, “you can expect our company at lunch.”
“And I convinced Mikey to switch seats during all our classes,” Dash said.
“You mean threatened?” Danny spoke.
“Same thing.”
Danny continued to look at the table, while she, Kwan, Star, and Dash dug into their lunch. Sam finally managed to pull her hand away, but Paulina’s goal was accomplished. After a minute of silent chewing, Danny reached for his lunch bag.
“Weird how the only people willing to be seen with me are the people who never want to be seen with me,” he said, blue eyes finally looking across the table at Paulina.
“You’re welcome,” Paulina smiled.
For some reason, this made Danny laugh.