Chapter Text
Danny pressed himself against the wall of the zoo observatory as the gorilla pounded on the wall in front of him. He had to do something. He glanced at Sam and Tucker. He couldn’t do anything. They didn’t know, they couldn’t know.
He launched himself at the door, prying it open, hopefully before the gorilla took notice and decided Danny was being aggressive.
“Get out!” he shouted, as Sam and Tucker started sprinting towards the door. He slammed it shut behind him as he made his way down the stairs after his friends.
“What do we do?” Tucker asked, eyes wide and wild as he stared at the door at the top of the stairs. Danny knew that what he could do was pick up the gorilla and put it back and its enclosure, but he couldn’t just say that. It would make him look crazy and his friends couldn’t know.
“I’ll go get a zookeeper!” he yelled, already starting to run down the hall and duck around a corner. He couldn’t do anything like this, but as Phantom, he could save them
“Danny, wait!” Sam yelled after him, but there wasn’t time. He needed to get the wild animal that Sam probably released back into its enclosure before anyone got hurt. He didn’t actually know whether or not gorillas could open doors, but it had already made a big enough hole in one of the windows that it probably didn’t matter.
As he ducked out of sight, he let light wash over him. That pain that used to consume him when he transformed had subsided into a mild tingling over the past month and a half, but it was still unsettling. He could feel his blood congealing into something sluggish as the light pulsed around him. His skin lost sensation as the rings glided over it. His hearing sharpened into a larger range, while his eyesight clouded, focused entirely on a spectrum not of this world.
As he prepared himself to turn intangible, and hopefully not get stuck this time, a hand grabbed him by the back of his suit, slamming him into the ground. He could barely feel the ground digging into his face, only an echo of what it should have been, but he could feel that hand on him, cold and hard and real.
“Haha! I’ve got you now, ghost child!” a deep voice crowed from behind him.
A shiver of fear ran down Danny’s spine. Whoever this was knew . They knew and it was all over if they told anyone.
A surge of adrenaline coursed through him as he simultaneously made himself intangible and shot up to almost the ceiling. He vaguely remembered something about having the high ground being good in a fight. Or was it the low ground? As he looked down, he realized it probably didn’t matter much anyway.
The person – thing? – that had grabbed him was a ghost. He knew it was. He could see it so much more clearly than anything else in the room. Despite that, it looked unreal. Its body was entirely metal with rivets and obvious welding covering what… skin? was exposed by its black tank top and pants. Its hair was made of green fire. It looked like something out of a sci-fi film.
“Who are you?” Danny stuttered. His parents said that ghosts weren’t sentient, but he’d heard several of them talk, even if it didn’t seem to be the norm based on the animal ghosts he usually fought.
The ghost grinned at him. “I am Skulker,” he said, holding up a spectral cage filled to the brim with writhing ghosts of every kind, “a collector of things rare and unique.” His eyes burned brighter as he stared up at Danny. “And you, Ghost Child, are that and more.”
Danny didn’t react for a few seconds. There was a ghost hunting him. There was a ghost hunting him because he was rare and unique. Yeah, he didn’t want any part of that. He bolted. He was so not ending up in that cage.
Behind him, the ghost laughed. Danny felt a sharp yank on his leg, followed immediately by immense pressure dragging him down. He hit the ground. Hard.
The world spun as Danny struggled to drag himself to his feet. It seemed like ghosts could still get concussions. Even as the rest of his vision swam, Skulker looked clear and crisp as he approached Danny at a leisurely pace. Danny shuffled back, the clamp on his leg holding tight.
“Don’t fret, ghost child,” he said mockingly, “Soon, I will bring you back to my world, where I can put you on display”
Danny shuttered. Yeah, no. Nope. That was not happening. He blasted the chain attached to his leg, shattering it. Skulker kept stalking forward, looking slightly less pleased. He was close now, far too close. Danny blasted him in the face.
Skulker roared as he stumbled back, covering his face with his hands. Danny didn’t even bother getting up before flying away as fast as he could.
He hoped Sam and Tucker had gotten far, far away.
He looked briefly over his shoulder, praying that Skulker was still stunned. Instead, he saw a rocket barreling towards him. His eyes widened. The rocket hit him in the face.
Danny hit the ground for the third time in less than five minutes. He was really getting tired of that. Skulker was flying towards him again, this time at a much faster pace. He tried another ectoblast. Skulker dodged. Danny barely managed to get back up before Skulker was on him, grabbing at his limbs and trying to hit him all at once.
Danny hit back as hard as he could, breath heavy and blood buzzing. Skulker slammed into a wall. This wasn’t like fighting other ghosts. Other ghosts just wanted to cause chaos. They didn’t really have a goal. Even the Lunch Lady was just lashing out because of the menu change. This one wanted something. It wanted him.
Running wasn’t working. There wasn’t really a choice other than to fight. Danny lifted his fists and shifted his feet, trying to brace himself into at least the semblance of a fighting stance, floating higher to at least try to get on level with the ghost. It wasn’t easy. He still felt like he couldn’t get enough air.
Skulker grinned at Danny as he got up. It made Danny furious. The ghost was acting like this was all just some game, like this wasn’t a life or death situation. Danny readied an ectoblast. A fucking machete appeared in the ghost’s hand.
Danny turned and raised his arms to protect himself as Skulker rushed him, machete raised. A searing pain rushed through his whole body, emanating from his arm. He screamed. Somewhere below him, something small hit the ground with a thunk.
Pain still coursing through his body, Danny looked down. There was an arm on the ground. He looked to where his right arm was supposed to be. It was gone, cut off right above the elbow, ectoplasm dripping from the wound sluggishly.
Danny threw up. He hadn’t known he could do that in ghost form. He stared down at the puddle of vomit pooling next to his severed arm. It glowed green. So did the ectoplasm slowly leaking from the arm.
“What just happened?”
Danny’s gaze snapped back up to the ghost in front of him. Despite its entire face being made of metal, the ghost wore an expression of shock and disgust.
Danny stared into its flaming eyes. “You just cut off my arm,” he said, feeling numb despite the panic lacing his voice. The ghost just hovered there like it didn’t know what to do.
Danny floated down to land next to his arm. He picked it up gingerly, careful to avoid the puddle of vomit.
It was weird, holding his own arm. It didn’t feel like him. It felt cold and vaguely more real than the ground beneath his feet. The ectoplasm sluggishly leaking out of the end had seemed to slow, gradually congealing into something like a scab. Looking at the stub of the arm still connected him, he saw that it had started to do the same.
It was weird, the pain had dulled, but it was still constant enough to block any sensation or lack thereof. It didn’t feel like anything was missing. It just didn’t feel right.
Skulker cleared his throat and Danny’s eyes snapped to him again.
The ghost looked uncomfortable, the weapons arrays on his back drooping slightly and his machete awkwardly dangling in his grip. “Well,” the ghost asked, discomfort creeping into its tone, “Are you going to put it back on.”
Danny gaped. “Put what back on?” His voice was far more indignant than he really thought he had the energy for. It was warranted.
“Your arm?” Skulker answered, now clearly confused.
Danny stared up at him in disbelief.
The ghost, Skulker, cleared his throat again. “Look, ghost child,” he said awkwardly, “I don’t like catching injured prey. It’s unsportsmanlike and makes a poor display. The machete shouldn’t have been sharp enough to do anything but mildly destabilize the ectoplasm. So, why don’t you-” he made an odd gesture like he was grabbing something cylindrical and putting it on his arm “- just reattach it and we can continue.”
Danny’s anger flared. What the fuck. What the actual fuck . This ghost, this thing, had just cut off his fucking arm and now if wanted him to just put it back on because injuries were unsporting? No. Even if he could do that – and he really, really hoped he could – he wasn’t going to now, not when Skulker apparently thought it would make him a better specimen .
Danny tightened his grip on his arm and flew up so that he was eye level with Skulker and inches from his face. He could see his glowing eyes reflecting in the ghost’s metal body. The ghost backed away slightly.
Oh no. That was not going to fly. Or actually it was. Danny gripped his arm and swung hard. The additional length gave him extra leverage and as the hand at the end of his severed arm hit Skulker, the ghost went flying. He hit the side of one of the zoo buildings; part of the wall collapsed on top of him.
Danny sincerely doubted that would keep him down for long… or possibly at all. The wall was physical and that affected ghosts far less. Danny bolted one last time, flying as fast as he could towards home. At least if he was in his parents house, Danny would have weapons, the thermos, some kind of defense.
Normally, Danny could have flown from the zoo to his house in about five minutes. Seven minutes into his flight, he realized something was very wrong. He wasn’t going anywhere near as fast as he should have been. And he was flying lower than he had realized, much lower.
A minute later, and about a quarter mile away from his house, his ability to fly had given out completely. Walking wasn’t much better. Danny had never felt tired as a ghost before. He’d felt frustrated, impatient, out of his depth, and just plain done, but never tired . He didn’t like what that implied.
The last quarter mile took about ten minutes. It was the longest ten minutes of Danny’s life. He knew he was vulnerable like this and there was no way Skulker was still down. It was possible that he was serious about hunting injured prey being “unsporting”, but Danny didn’t want to count on it. Not that there was much he really could do.
The next challenge arrived as Danny stood before his front door. He didn’t have a key in his jumpsuit. The door was locked. Danny really didn’t want to find out what would happen if he turned back into a human like this.
He put his hand on the door and willed himself intangible. He could barely feel the shift. Danny winced as he put his foot through the door. It felt far more solid than it should have. That wasn’t a good sign, but, intangibility was really the only way to go without a key.
He forced himself the rest of the way through the door, wincing as the material scraped against not quite real skin. Then he felt something stick. Danny’s heart jumped to his throat.
Danny slowly turned towards the door and felt almost relieved when he realized it wasn’t him that was stuck. Well, it was. But it wasn’t anything attached to him. All he had to do was let go… and leave his arm sitting on the front porch of his parents house. That was going to go over great with the neighbors.
Right. Okay. He didn’t have a key because he was in ghost form. He couldn’t fly up into his window because he couldn’t fly and he couldn’t remember if it was open anyway. He wasn’t even sure if he could even phase back through the door to get his arm without getting stuck halfway through. If only he had his key so he could unlock the door.
Oh. Wait.
Danny dropped his severed arm outside the door and then pulled the rest of his still attached one through. Then he unlocked the door from the inside, opened it, and picked up his arm. He was not thinking clearly.
He vaguely remembered from a first aid assembly that confusion after a traumatic injury was a really bad sign. Or it could just be a sign that he was a C student. Hard to tell.
But, he could deal with that later. Right now, he was in his house, holding his severed arm as Phantom. He had to do, well, something. He wasn’t safe. Skulker was after him and he was at home. His parents were at home, too, and they’d be as likely to attack him as attack Skulker. He wasn’t safe here. Why had he come here?
Danny willed his sluggish brain to work. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go anyway and he didn’t have a way to catch ghosts eit– Right, the thermos. The thermos was in his room, under his bed. That’s why he was here. He could defend himself with the thermos. From Skulker. He couldn’t use the thermos to defend himself from his parents.
Well, he’d just have to be very quiet and then when he had the thermos he could go down to the lab and… what? Figure out a way to reattach his arm? Surely, they had something for that. Right?
He’d figure that out later. First he needed to go and get the thermos. That meant he needed to go up the stairs. He lifted his feet, trying to float towards the ceiling… and barely caught himself as he fell forward in an ungraceful half-jump.
Right. No flying. Stairs it was.
He wobbled slightly as he took his first step. That was fine. He was just a little unsteady, but it was just some stairs. He would be fine.
Danny was full on staggering by the time he made it to the hallway at the top of the stairs. That was… probably not good.
Whatever. He just needed to make it to his room because… because… The thermos! That was why. If he could get his thermos he could defend himself. He would have a chance if Skulker came after him again.
He could do this.
Suddenly, his dad was directly in front of his face. Danny dropped his arm.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Wait. Nope, just a picture. He picked up his arm. He was fine.
Sure, the was a green glob of ectoplasm on the floor because his fucking arm was no longer attached to his body, but he was fine.
…Danny should probably clean up the ectoplasm before his parents saw it. He wobbled on his next step forward. Nope. Later. Get to his room first, then deal with everything else.
A few steps later, Danny ran face first into his door. Right, no intangibility. That was fine. He could do things the old-fashioned way. No problemo.
He reached for the doorknob. Then blinked. Right. His arm. His severed right arm. He definitely wasn’t able to grab things with that anymore. Or grab things while he was holding it. That was fine, he could do it.
He put it between his legs while he opened the door, like he would a box or a water bottle that he just needed to hold for a second. Only, it wasn’t a box or a water bottle; it was his own severed arm. Danny felt a little hysterical.
Okay, door open. Task accomplished. That was something. There was ectoplasm everywhere, but that was a problem for the future; hopefully a future where he had use of both arms.
Getting the thermos from under his bed and putting it on the bed took another bit of severed arm maneuvering, but he got it. He had a defense against… Skulker. That’s who he was defending against. Another task accomplished.
Okay… Now what?
Danny sat on his bed, arm in hand. He had no clue what to do.
He’d thought maybe there was something his parents had in their lab that might be able to fix this, but he couldn’t think of what. His thoughts were a little fuzzy though. Maybe they did have something.
But, even if they did, Danny didn’t know if he could get down the stairs to check.
This was bad. This was so, so bad.
He was sitting in his bedroom as Phantom, holding his own severed arm and he had know clue what to do. If his parents came in, he was screwed. Who knew what they would do if they saw a ghost in their son's room. They talked an awful lot about tearing ghosts apart molecule by molecule… and then studying their remains.
And here Danny was, an injured ghost that couldn’t fight back.
He could change back, but he had no clue what that would do to him. Would the ectoplasm just turn back to blood? Nope. He did not want to think about that. He wasn’t going to think about that.
He would think about his parents tearing him apart instead. And wasn’t it sad how that was the better option? At least Skulker… wait, Skulker had said something. What was it?
Just reattach it?
That had just made him angry at the time, but could it really be that simple. Danny would feel really stupid if it was. But he had also probably saved himself from life in a cage, so maybe it wasn’t that stupid.
Okay, time to do this before his brain went back to completely fuzzy.
Danny closed his eyes and held his right arm up to his stump. He waited. There was tingling, then pain. Was it working?
He slowly opened his eyes and let go of his arm.
It flopped onto his lap.
Danny could feel tears forming in his eyes. It wasn’t fair. If Skulker cut his arm off, couldn’t he at least be right about how to put it back on. Maybe Danny just hadn’t held it there long enough.
He tried again, holding it for at least a minute, or what he thought was a minute. It was hard to tell, his brain was getting fuzzy again.
He slowly lowered his hand; his arm came with it. Danny felt the tears start to fall.
Okay, maybe it would take a little longer than that. Maybe he needed to tie it on there. Doctors sometimes stitched limbs back on, right? That was something humans did and Danny was pretty sure he was human, so that might work.
He didn’t have a sewing kit, so tying it on would have to do. Danny staggered to his closet and grabbed his least favorite shirt. It was at least a size too small and stained with something brown, but he hadn’t gotten around to throwing it out.
He flopped back onto his bed, wincing as he did so. He took one end of the shirt in his mouth and held the other with his good hand. It didn’t rip. Danny felt more tears slide down his face. It always worked in movies, why couldn’t it work now?
Fine. Whatever. The shirt was longsleeve anyway. Danny awkwardly shoved the detached part of his right arm through the sleeve and then shoved his stump in after it, trying his best to line it up.
It might have been a little catty-wampus, but Danny couldn’t find it in himself to care. …He might regret that later. Whatever. He wrapped the rest of the shirt as tightly around the cut off area as he could, using the other sleeve as a tie.
Okay, that was done. Now what?
He could… what? What could he do?
Danny’s eyes landed on the thermos.
He grabbed it and scooted back against the wall, so that he could lean his weight on it. He could … he get into a more defensible position is what he could do. He had the thermos that meant that he could fight… Who could he fight?
It didn’t matter. He had the thermos. That was what was important. From this position, he could watch the rest of the room… the rest of the dark, quiet room.
It couldn’t hurt to close his eyes for a minute, could it?