Avatar Fic I want to read but not write because I have too many fics.
So, the Dai Li fuck around and find out and get removed from power and Earth King Kuei finds out about the war a few years ahead of the story line. He’s actually pretty good at his job, and he starts pressing back against the Fire Nation lines.
It wasn't often Soundwave failed Megatron; but he wasn't sure this was considered a failure. Instead of the scout or one of the Autobots pets it was a seeker. A young one with green, black, and brilliant silver plating who trashed and kicked and swore creatively in a few human languages. When he managed to knock another Vehicon into the command pit.
An autobot seeker? No, flyers refused to associate themselves with grounders even if this mech had almost friendly looking colors. Perhaps a neutral; but there was no explanation as to how they'd gotten to this rock without being intercepted. Megatron gestured to the vehicons who dragged the seeker to his knees.
First struck by the resemblance to Starscream, before the gray formatting he'd gotten before Earth. Secondly, the blaze of defiance in the acid green optics. So much Starscream's at the beginning of the war. During the Airlords speeches to the senate and his oath to Megatron...so familiar and nostalgic he cupped the side of the young helm only to realized that this seekerling possessed something Starscream didn't. Fangs sank into his servo with the tenacity of a scraplet digging metal from their victim. Trying to jerk himself free only resulted in the tearing of armor and some protoform.
He spat it out with distaste. It landed a few feet away with a wet clomp. When he spoke lavender energon spilled from his derma and glossa. "The hell is wrong with you? The hell are you doing? Who the hell are you? Where the hell am I?"
Who are you? No one had asked that questions in....eons! Everyone knew he was even before the war had started! He'd made a name for himself. Autobots and Decepticon trembled at the mere mention of Megatron. What arrogance! So resembling Starscream the backhand across the face was as instinctive as battle. "You do not know who I am?"
With a shake of his helm, the seekerling glared upward. Pale blue energon trickled from a cracked optic ridge, "you think you're that special? As far as I can tell you're a looney toon flavored fruitloop who's got no manners and bunch of flunkies."
It took a few moments to translate the very human insults into something he recognized. Again, the young helm snapped to the side under a harsh slap. When he began to laugh a measure of unease wavered over the room. "That make you feel big and strong, you rusted silverado? Yeah, I'm sure you're all sorts of brave if you feel safe enough beating up someone younger and who can't move. Do you feel better? Do you feel strong?"
They had Starscreams silver glossa and unerring ability to infuriate Megatron. "What is your designation?" He asked in Kaonite. They only squinted in confusion. "Your name." This time in English which was an ugly, inelegant language. All human languages were disgusting, filthy, and organic. No one planet needed this many words to describe the sea.
He might have needed to give them motivation, but he opened his intake. "Phantom."
"Phantom?" Soundwave's face indicated the human definition of phantom and then several pictures. "A human spirit?" The brat, Phantom, hadn't even used any glyphs. Nothing to describe what kind of mech he was or the name he'd been given. "Phantom <Lost Spark>. What are you doing on this organic planet?"
"Earth?" Phantom's optics shifted and he refocused. "Oh, ya know. Living my life. Minding my own business. "
"What of the autobots?"
"What of them?"
"Where are they?"
"Wherever they are."
"Describe the human liaison!"
"The human liaison is the human liaison!" Phantom took longer to recover after the most recent blow, giggling weakly as he lifted his helm.
Megatron tucked his arms behind his back to observe the young seeker. A seeker. A sparkling which no one had known about. Except perhaps. "What do you know of Prime?"
"...prime? 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19 and 23."
"Optimus Prime! How had he managed to conceal your existence?"
Phantom scrunched up his face with a wince. "Uh....by being optimistic?"
This time when Megatron struck he was sagging in the vehicons servos, delicate wings twitching faintly. "Bring him to the med-bay." This renewed Phantoms struggles. Halfway down the corridor he'd clawed armor from a flying vehicon and part of Soundwave's greaves. It was an impressive fight Megatron was content to watch until they reached the med-bay. Seizing one of the thrashing limbs he went to throw him across the room. He only half-succeeded. With something that smacked of an outlier ability Phantom managed to regain control.
When an energon dagger sliced through his arm the warlord realized he might have underestimated this one. Phantom was brutal. Small enough to move quickly and apparently experienced with fighting groups. Soundwave managed to catch the vehicon thrown his direction but not a ripped piece of armor. There was an efficiency of movement that the former gladiator could appreciate even as a the glowing green optics promised a violent offlining. Despite everything they managed to get him onto the table and into manacles. Knock Out kept his distance and only approached once the last one clicked into place.
"My lord?" He surveyed the green seeker.
"Find out who is sparkling is and who he belongs to."
"LET GO OF ME! LET GO! LET GO!"
He went ignored as Megatron issued his final order.
3$#$#$
Thundercracker winced, rubbing at his cockpit as his spark throbbed. He sat up in berth and adjusted his optics for the lower light. His partners were still in recharge. Skywarp as close as he could get to Starscream without aggravating his reformatting welds. Starscream in turn, look tired. He'd been recharging more these last few cycles and they were all glad for it. He hadn't been well since the Nemesis had ended up at some bizarre little planet on ethe edge of the known galaxy. Why the rest of the Decepticon forces couldn't join them hadn't been adequately explained.
All fronts and planets were at a standstill and while they hadn't been given official permission for a truce there had been such a lack of hostilities as to pretend one was enacted.
But Megatron was fighting on that organic planet. Fighting the Autobots. Fighting the Prime.
Still trying to soothe the ache beneath his cockpit he moved to the window and stared over the ex-Cybertronian colony. Abandoned half-way through the great-war it was one of the last places fit for Cybertronians with size and comfort in mind.
It was so strange to see it. Something so much like home that it became utterly alien.
What could Cybertron ever look like if they went back? If the world became their again? What would it look like if they won?
Wincing, he felt over his spark and glanced back at his trine mates. None of them seemed injured....so what...what?
Agony shot across his spark followed by a flood of terror so strong his knees buckled.
"Thundercracker!" Skywarp snapped to his side. "What's wrong? What happened?"
Trying to vent past the agony, he could feel a foreign yet familiar presence screaming until Thundercracker collapsed.
#$#$#$
Danny's wings twitched as the air currents in his cells shifted. A change in pressure, different smells, and charged particles told him that someone was making their way down the hall. His cell must have been made for larger mechs, or maybe fully grown ones, because Danny had plenty of space left on the uncomfortable slab he'd been left.
His newly clawed fingertips twitched against as he tried to sit up but his head was spinning and everything hurt. his head, chest, and throat all throbbed. Could you get a sore throat in a robot body?
Two someones, he realized once they rounded the corner. Megatron and the who'd captured him. No-Face tilted its head, inspiring more terror in Danny than the gleaming red eyes.
Hey, assholes. Danny felt the weird metal parts move faintly and nothing emerged. What the fuck? Again, nothing rose from his mouth. No words, no static. Silence.
No! What! NO! Nothing felt out of place, but he couldn't have known either way.
Sharp teeth glinted in the light which illuminated the cruel, self-satisfied grin. "Did you say something?"
What did you do to me! His voice box wheezed miserably under the strain. Hands around his throat, wide eyes landed on the tyrant. Too pleased. Too smug with such an infuriatingly conceited bearing that Danny was across the cell and slamming into the bars. It might have stung his new metal body yet the satisfaction of making both beings flinch just the slightest made it a price he was willing to pay.
"I suppose you did...or tried to. It will not be possible until I give the medic permission to reverse the changes. Your t-cog is also disabled. You cannot be civil then you have no reason to speak. Your refused to obey me then you have no use for transformation. I am gracious, Phantom. I will have these restored. Once you are properly trained."
Danny clutched at his metal chest. Whatever passed as a heart was thundering as the alien blood pounded in his ears.
Megatron's eyes narrowed. "I wonder, little seeker. How long before you surrender."
A shit show. An absolute fucking shit show of a night. Break outs. Break ins. Discharged weapons and it hadn't even hit 5 o'clock. His radio squawked, phone ringing off the hook, with texts incoming from official and unofficial channels. Responding to the Bats to keep them off his back, the mayor to keep him of his back, and then to Bruce Wayne.
Commissioner Gordon slammed the door to the car shut. "McNabb, get me to the scene ASAP."
Peeling into the streets with the siren deafening in his ear, he opened his laptop and answered his phone. "What's the situation, Rally?"
"We're still waiting for confirmation that all Arkham prisoners have been accounted for. Nightwing says that the escape method can't be used by anyone who doesn't have cold related powers."
"The Joker?" He braced himself as McNabb spun them through traffic with the skill and mastery of an ex-drag racer turned taxi-driver, turned professional driver who Gordon kept on retainer for these situations while the man studied the mechanics of Formula 1 cars.
"Under surveillance and armed guards, sir. The warden was being visited by Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne is safe and currently under surveillance and guard as well."
Bruce had to be hating every minute of this. Trapped and unable to assist and wouldn't know what was going on until the gunsmoke cleared. "Good. Make sure he stays safe. And the scene?"
"Holding Steady Research Institute was attacked by Victor Fries about an hour ago. He made it to the main laboratory. We're not clear on the details but Daniel Fenton showed up and about 5 minutes ago there were confirmed shots from Officer Martin."
Jim had been around the block too many times to swear; but he could feel the urge rising like gorge from his stomach. Squeezing his eyes shut as he breathed past the rage. In the driver seat McNabb was doing his best to scrunch into himself. "Rally?"
His assistant hesitated. "Daniel Fenton is receiving medical attention for his wound by the EMTs who've arrived at the scene. He was shot."
"ETA five minutes." McNabb whispered over the twin growl of the commissioner and engine.
"Fatal?"
"Unknown, sir,"
"Damn, keep an ear out. How many people did Freeze shoot?"
"Twelve. No deaths."
Miracles could happen on a night like this. "How? Those ice prisons are deadly."
"Unclear, sir. They're collecting witness testimonies but most of them are in shock."
"I'll see when I get there." He growled. The car jolted around a bend and stopped just before a police barricade. Ambulances cycled their lights, a few inching past the crush of people to inch onto the roads for a quick delivery to Gotham General. The scene was a mess as it always seemed to be for these supervillain attacks. Not a bat in sight. "I'm here. Call me if you have any more details." He hung up, slipping out of the car as soon as it rolled to a halt.
He paused next to an ambulance waiting for the stretcher being wheeled from the building through a new door made from shattered glass and steel. EMTs barked at each other at the driver, and for everyone to get out of their way. Jim forced himself to stand very still as he caught a glimpse of the small figure they were working over. Small, pale. Shallow cuts across his face bled sluggishly. The Arkham uniform dirtied and bloody and he caught just the barest glimpse of the worn skin around his neck where a collar once lay. When the door slammed shut and the ambulance wooped to clear it's path; Jim's stomach twisted around bile and ice.
People were collecting eye-witness accounts. Taking a measure of the scene, keeping rubberneckers out, and all the while trying to figure out what the hell had happened. He moved around talking and assessing until Sergeant Zale approached with the rapid, careful footsteps of man with bad news.
"What's the news, Zale?"
Zale put his head down, whispering. "Nora Fries coded, sir."
Jim congratulated himself on being someone who didn't react badly to such news. He'd thought he'd gotten over the worst of Gotham had to offer. Only sheer force of will kept him walking. "How?"
"The running theory is that her pod was without power for too long. She wasn't hit by one of the bullets thought there are several shots embedded in the pod. A witness states that her life support failed before Officer Martin was on the scene."
He wanted a cigarette. He wanted a cigar. He wanted to sleep. "Forensics?"
"They're getting there, sir. Fenton is on his way to the hospital."
"I saw him leave. Social worker?"
"Called, but if he doesn't survive...and sir." They paused just within the building.
Ice littered the hall. Blood trailed in thin streams over the floor. To an untrained eye, chaos. Jim could pick out the routes of different people. Victor's violent assault on the building. Remains of ice which would have once encased a person, and more. "What happened to the people Freeze shot?"
"Alive, sir. Being treated for shock and exposure and frostbite. Sir. there's...another thing. Victor Fries."
"Please tell me he's in custody." Jim rubbed at his forehead, scanning the shards of ice. Who had broken them? Someone had to have come with a tool or some power. A dragging, heavy silence pulled his attention toward Zale. More bad news. Worse news? Could there be worse news than anything he'd gotten today?
"Victor Fries is dead."
#$#$#$
Nightwing stepped through the heavily guarded door to find Bruce slouched over the one of the office chairs and flicking through a magazine with apparent boredom. He had his phone on his lap and was reading his head on his hand to hide the earpiece.
"Warden. Oh, Mr Wayne, hello."
"Nightwing! How are you?" Bruce's smile might have illuminated a moonless night.
"I've been better. Warden I."
"Two of them are missing," Warden napped at him and everyone in the room. "Victor Fries and Danny....Fenton."
"Did Victor kidnap Danny?" Bruce closed the magazine. "Is he okay?"
"We're still investigating, Mr. Wayne." He told his father who dutifully played his part.
"If Victor kidnapped him then."
"He probably escaped with him. At least he didn't kill anyone on his way out. Holy shit. Fuck!"
One of the secretaries peeled into the room, breathless. "Warden! We've got media swarming the place!"
"Standard procedure. Fuck, with this response time we should make them the guards." Ni"ghtwing was impressed by the speed which the man gave orders. Securing the island and trying to find where Fries had gone. When his comm cackled to life he took a step back.
"Go."
"Mr. Freeze attacked the facility where his wife was. I've got security of him breaking in and Fenton following right after him." Richard listened to her tight, unhappy voice laying out the news. Bruce's expression grew more tight as he spoke. When she fell silent it was Jason who spoke first.
"Fucking cops."
"Agreed. Ahki, we must deal with this fool."
"I'd love if this were a productive conversation." Tim added. "I don't see any more imminent break outs on the outside, Nightwing."
"End of the tunnel." Cassandra's voice wafted over the line in a huff of exertion.
"It's a nice tunnel." Tim admitted.
"Don't you mean it's an ice tunnel?" The joke fell flat over the comms. "Sorry. Bad timing." He glanced at Bruce who was just managing to keep his expression under control as the warden turned his direction.
"Mr. Wayne, we're going to need your statement and."
"Is Danny okay?" Bruce stood up, pulling out his cellphone and texting furiously. Only Dick would see he'd reached out to his lawyers. "What happened."
When the warden pinched his lips Bruce's expression only grew more troubled. "We're still confirming the details, Mr. Wayne. We'll need an official release."
More likely he didn't want to explain to Wayne that something had happened to his latest project and teenager he was clearly gearing up to foster. Someone explaining that Danny had been shot would have to deal with a lot of grief.
"He's still in theater and the vital signs are all over the place."
"If he does not survive I will have Officer Martins head." Damian growled. Richard couldn't help but agree.
#$#$#$#
With her headphones protecting her from the listening to her roommates project planning, Jazz watched the recorded lecture through glazed, half-closed eyes. She yawned reaching for her friends cat as it staggered sideways and snuggled into her arm.
Conditioned by the particular chiming on her phone, she dragged it out from under the cat and swiped to open. She'd set up alerts for her brother. In the early days of his trial she'd suffered through and endless number. It had trickled to a near-standstill; only still necessary to monitor the hit-pieces which Vlad arranged.
"OW! SHIT!" Her head collided with the underside of the bunk; cat skittering out of bed and toward safety. Her laptop folded and her phone slipped out of her hand. Jazz fumbled out of the bed, trailing twisted blankets, holding her head, and swearing.
"Jazz, are you okay?"
"Ow! Fuck! My phone! My phone!'
"Jazz!" Someone approached.
Her first glimpse hadn't been wrong! It was...true...her brother! Danny! "Oh my god! Oh my God!"
"JAZZ!" Someone crouched down beside her to help her up. Her roommate came into focus. "Jazz?"
Everything was too loud. Too quiet. Her legs couldn't stop shaking and more hands guided her to the couch.
Danny! Wasn't it bad enough he was in Arkham? Wasn't it enough that Vlad had gotten what he wanted?
Staring at the television screen with something like a smile, Vlad Masters swirled his drink a few times before downing the rest of it.
If Daniel wanted to suffer the consequences of his own actions then so be it. He had refused Vlad's helping hand again and again. He'd back-talked, belittled, and beaten Vlad one too many times. The collar design was perfect and would keep Danny from recovering any faster than a normal human. He could wallow in a substandard prison hospital.
Vlad poured himself another glass. Danny would beg him to help or come crawling back.
He ought to send that officer a thank-you gift.
$#$#
Jim stared at the sheet which was now draped over the remains of Victor Fries...Mr. Freeze. A terror unto Gotham. Obsessive. Clinically insane. Brilliant and a mad scientist
Such a staple of Gotham; Jim's head swam faintly as he watched the forensic crew pick through the remains of the shattered, bloody pod. He couldn't have imagined or expected....but since it had already happened he wished Danny would have been kept out of it.
Victor Fries hadn't been a friend. He hadn't been an ally; but Jim's stomach roiled anyway.
And Nora! Nora had gone to sleep one night and never got to wake up again. Suspended animated for decades; missing life and death. He'd never met the woman when she was alive...now he wouldn't get the chance too.
Jim's eyes tracked back toward the spot Danny had been shot; first by Freeze and then again. His eyes skittered to a halt over a broken strip of metal being picked up by a CSI. "What's that?"
"Not sure, sir. It's stamped with the Big Dipper. I'm tempted to think it might be part of his power suppressing collar; but we'll have to confirm." She handed the baggie over. Jim turned it out and around; the silver plated constellation cheerfully reflecting the flood lights overhead.
craziest phenomenon i keep reexperiencing is telling people i haven't kept up with childrens cartoons since i was an actual kid, thus missing the boat on things like steven universe and gravity falls and whatever else and not really caring to remedy that, and then getting reactions like i'm some poor deprived plebeian missing out on some necessary cultural vitamin or like i'm confessing to armed robbery. like i'm sorry but i'm not interested in a coming-of-age story when i'm almost 30, and on top of that, i'd like my fiction to not have to contend with a childrens television censorship board kneecapping every creative decision. also i just can't tolerate the high-pitched audio mixing designed for 10 y/o ears. why is this such a controversial opinion to people my age and younger
and the thing is, i've enjoyed watching cartoons aimed for younger audiences that i didn't grow up with & thus can't be handwaved with the nostalgia factor, i.e. the batman, superman, and xmen animated series— as one part of a diversified art experience— but the difference there for me is the fact that those cartoons are not about children and aren't focused on being immediately relatable to children (whole different ballgame than just appealing to them). i feel like every big hit cartoon to come out in the past decade has been about a protagonist who is not yet old enough to drive and like, i'm sorry, i'm not trying to objectively yuck anyone's yum, but that's just not interesting to me. i like seeing batman struggling to treat robin like an adult now that he's recently moved out for college. i like seeing the xmen talk about troubled childhoods as something in the past they've been working hard to move on from. i do Not like plots that are all "omg saving the world is so hard when you're just a kid" and i can't believe this apparently makes me a pariah LOL
yknow i was going to say "idk why seemingly nobody makes kids/family cartoons that are about grown adults" but then i realized it probably just comes down to marketing like literally everything else does in this corporate hellscape. it's probably harder for a showrunner-hopeful to convince studio execs their new cartoon pitch will sell a bunch of toys and tshirts and other tchotchkes if the protagonist is some grizzled, chiseled, severely maladjusted adult instead of a bug-eyed fifth-grader with a cute pet sidekick. which is fucking insane because batman exists
tfw "popular" fanon becomes so embedded in a fandom & discussions within fandom spaces that people just start treating it as the default and all interactions with others are coloured by this interpretation. have you considered that I actually don't subscribe to this take, which is nowhere in the source material? wait nvm, clearly not.
Screaming. A scream raw and terrible. Expelling delicate life from straining lungs. The banshee howled with ragged breath.
Electricity trailed along fractured nerves; braiding old miseries into the new. Throbbing pain through his skull where he hit the floor. Broken eyes dug into the thin clothes and he-. He'd been shot! It was shoved to the side of his mind as the hum of power began to flicker and fade. Someone was breathing erratically into a panic attack. Boots over glass and ice and metal. The same things which shifted under Danny as he forced himself upright.
Ice cracked and cascaded down his body to mix with rest of the rubble. The freeze gun had gotten him. A full body hit which probably would have killed him if the gun's power had been higher. Blank eyes skittered from the panicking woman to his right, the frozen man to his left, and Victor.
Victor had uncoupled Nora's pod and was adjusting it onto it's gurney.
It was would start all over again, wouldn't it? Victor was locked in his obsession. Had been indulged too many times because of his love until it had been poisoned. It had become poison leeching into Gotham; deadly and cold. If Victor succeeded then it would never stop.
Ice, metal, and rubble splayed out around him. Broken doors and tools and scientists. This would never stop. Never. It would happen again and again and again and Danny forced himself to his feet. His fists tightened and he kicked a chunk of ice across the room were it collided against a boot. "Stop. Victor."
Victor turned slowly. Where madness gleamed brightly there was a shine of impressed surprise. A hand fell to the gun. "You should have stayed down, Daniel. No one needs to get hurt if you just listen to me!"
His first instinct was to punch. So he did. Throwing himself across the room, ducking under a blast of ice and coming up in Victor's personal space to punch him in the stomach. it wouldn't damage his suit but it did send him stumbling to the right and away from the pod. Danny followed to slam him into the wall. Victor kneed him in the torso and with his greater height and weight of his suit forced Danny away.
He moved much more quickly for a scientist but he hadn't spent the last year getting slammed into fistfights with goons and other villains. With strength Danny wasn't sure he had; he managed to topple the man over one of the desks. With Victor distracted with his sudden change in orientation Danny returned to reconnecting the power. This was an older piece of machinery. Danny could see where it had been repaired a few times and parts replaced.
The first coupling went easily and the lights turned back on within the pod; vital signs began to load as Danny kicked backward and caught Victor on the thigh. Grunting, the older man scrabbled at his clothes to yank Danny backward.
Dazed, Danny rolled. Ice erupted where he'd been just moments before. The next two shots he dodged. Ice caked the walls now. Snow and ice fluttered around the rooms on the breeze of automated circulations systems. Just enough cover for the teenager to seize the barrel of the gun and jerk it toward the ceiling. Metal burned under his fingertips and in a brief both had fallen silent.
Victor's eyes burned with fury, leaking tears which froze to lashes and flesh. "GET OUT OF MY WAY, DANIEL! SHE IS MY WIFE! I WILL CURE HER! I DO NOT NEED IDIOTS IN MY WAY!"
Reasoning was no longer possible. Having become so the moment the weapon had turned on Danny. He been shot! Shot the the man he trusted. Shot by the first person in Arkham who didn't treat him badly. Shot by someone he'd wanted to look up to. Someone whose intelligence he respected. He needed to get the man back. He needed to stop him.
Danny planted himself as best he could, yanking the gun.
Victor pivoted, heavy suit managing to slingshot the younger man across the room and into the couch. His head rang and the gun went skittering across the floor. Fumbling over the armrest, he managed to kick the ice free of the doctor and right himself just in time to recognize that the ringing echoed from the pod's damaged systems. Interior lights flickering was the only detail he could see with Victor in the way.
Alarms overhead continued to sing, harmonizing with panicking life support, and Victor's endless denials as he screamed and worked to reactivate the pod. An abrupt pop of thunder echoed within the sound waves of the chaos. Destructive interference hide the discharge. When Danny's right leg gave out, hand coming up to clutch his side.His blood was the warmest thing he'd touched all day.
A cold unlike anything Victor had produced seized his throat.
A ghost? Here? Had Victor's rampage caused someone to become a ghost? Did they just die? He thought he'd saved everyone on the way down! The other doctor had a few more minutes before he succumbed! Danny hadn't died fully yet! Had he? His eyes drooped downward toward bloody clothes. It hissed and spat when it hit the ice. There seemed to be a lot of it but...he wasn't dead. His heart was still pushing blood around and out of his body. The cop in the doorway was clearly alive. Shouting...something? His mouth moved and with his beard it was more like a tribble yelling. Why was he wearing sunglasses inside? It looked dumb and there weren't enough lights on in the first place. Even the flicker by Victor had stopped.
Pressure! Keep pressure on it! Wasn't that he'd read in the Princess Bride? Danny dragged one of the throw blankets on the couch toward his side and did his best His limbs were shaking Sliding to the floor; he glanced at the pod just as Nora Fries sat up.
Nora....NORA! Long blond hair hung limply over shoulders and neck. Puncture sites littered along elbow and neck. both thin and bony. Her shirt hung from an emaciated torso, the pattern having long since been leeched away. Pale eyes shifted to meet Danny's directly.
Noise and pain and cold faded under a heavy gong of a church bell. Something ticked. Something tocked. Alternating again and again until the cascading noises faded with a faint chime.
"Nora?" Danny stood as she shifted to the side and pale, stick-thin legs swung out and tapped the floor. Nora stood, and he saw she'd been wearing a dress. It billowed around her as she swayed. She raised her arms and let her head roll back. "Ma'am?...Mrs. Fries?"
"Hello...." Once her head completed it's circuit; pale eyes focused on him. "Who are you?"
"...I'm Danny. I...." He'd never dealt with a newly formed ghost. Only himself and he wasn't sure that would help. "Victor is trying to get the pod fixed. You have another 8 minutes before it's too late. I've been working on a cure with Victor. He hasn't stopped. No one has." She swayed thoughtfully. He wasn't sure she knew what was going on, but she'd been in a coma for decades by this point. He wouldn't be surprised. He inched closer and held out a cautious hand.
She accepted, "You're so warm. So warm. Danny. You're so kind to help my Victor. He was always so single-minded. It's what made him so attractive when we met. He wanted to solve any problem he met. He wanted to perfect everything...and he was so wonderful....so gentle."
Tears burned behind his eyes, stinging his heart as he tried to consider what Victor might have been before his wife had gotten sick. Was he this man out of desperation or because he'd always been like this and had no difficulty relying on it to get what he wanted. "Yes...I'm glad...."
"We never had children, you know. We'd wanted them so badly before I got sick. I wish we'd had the chance to have a son like you."
Danny couldn't help the wobble in his voice, eyes focused where their hands were laced. Didn't she see the mess? Didn't she know what he'd done? Didn't she realize? "You don't even know me."
"I don't think I need to. Victor trusted you. I trust Victor."
Danny swiped away a tear. Over Nora's shoulder at the very back of the room a pair of glass-pane double-doors had appeared. Figures and shapes moved on the other side. Danny squeezed her hand as a primal terror seized every nerve. He knew who it was....what it was. Who was shifting into view by one of the doors. In a sturdy work uniform over a blue polo and black slacks. The round cheeks sporting wide, round splotches of rosacea. Thin mousy hair was drawn back into a work bun where a pencil had been stabbed. Her cat-eyed spectacles secured around her neck with a chain of tiny connected vertebrate. A gold coin hung from each ear and a box-cutter from her belt.
"I've come for you." She announced in a voice born from lungs scorched by pollution, cigarettes.
Nora turned. "You know. My parents had this door which lead into the den. I don't remember them being shut. Everyone was supposed to be invited in. We had so many different dinners and parties. Victor loved it so much. When we bought the house from them we wanted to do that same. Have dinners and parties and holiday's...right up until." Her voice faded and a clock ticked.
"Nora," he pulled on her hand. "Nora...you." Another tick. They began to speak up, but only Danny and the other woman could seem to hear them.
"Oh...Danny...you're dead too. Will you be coming?"
Danny forced himself to smile. "I'm only halfway there, but I...I'll walk you to the door."
As both the shortest and longest walk of his life and half-life; Danny wasn't sure if they'd teleported or hiked the Appalachian trail. They paused just within arms reach of the door and it's attendant.
Nora stared and swayed. The longer she swayed the less skeletal she became. Limbs widening as long-digested fat and muscle returned. Puncture marks sealed themselves. Blond locks smoothed themselves and bounced into faint curls. Fabric faded and shifted to a pair of slacks and Gotham University sweatshirt. Black slippers settled over bare feet and at once a whole, healthy Nora Fries stood at the door.
Clocks sounded faster and louder in Danny's ears. he knew it might be silly to want to know a woman who had only ever been a patient, an inked name in a book or report, a hand-drawn picture over his schoolbooks. Here she was whole and the most real she'd ever be. Before anything could be said the door creaked open. Light and laughter spilled over Nora's feet only to vanish when the door snapped shut.
The woman in the apron jerked her head towards Danny's body, still slumped against the couch. Ticking and clicking tumbled over each other in a waterfall until a resounding GONG.
Pain overrode all sense as his eyes flickered open. Fuzzy sound echoed through the room. Someone...people were still screaming.Victor was yanking glass from the pod. Every instinct urge Danny upward to help. To help them no matter the costs but he couldn't move. Why couldn't he move? Yeah, he'd been shot but he should still be okay! He'd fought through worse! But he only slumped sideways with tears freezing halfway down his face.
Emergency lighting glinted off a shard to glass wielded by a desperate man
Danny was unsure if he'd ever get the chance to wake up. Afraid that he'd be next on the woman's list. His life line cut carefully and eternally.
The shiny scrap of metal stamped with the Big Dipper was the last detail he could make out as another frozen breath escaped trembling lips.
