Missing for three weeks, Danny finally escapes, only to be found dead and taken to a funeral home.
But death isn’t the end—Danny awakens on the embalming table with his jaw wired shut and terrifying new powers. Disoriented and desperate, he must find his way home, knowing nothing will ever be the same again.
Sam lingered by the school entrance, her heart heavy with the weight of the day ahead. The bell had rung minutes ago, signaling the end of another grueling school day that she barely remembered. She spotted Tucker standing by his car “Betsy”, his usual tech filled messenger bag slung over one shoulder. His face was somber, matching the oppressive gloom that had settled over all of them since Danny's disappearance.
She approached him, her steps slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the moment would somehow ease the pain of what they had to do. Tucker looked up as she neared, his expression softening with concern.
“Jazz texted me,” Sam said, her voice quiet but strained with the effort to keep it steady. “She said Mrs. Fenton just picked up Danny’s belongings from the station. His phone screen’s cracked, but it’s still usable.”
Tucker nodded, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a somber resolve. “Okay, good. Then the hard drive shouldn’t be damaged. We should be able to save any photos he had pretty easily. Should we head over and get started on the slideshow?”
Sam nodded, her eyes reflecting the pain that her words didn’t convey. “Yeah. Jazz could use the help. It’s… it’s going to be hard for her.”
The drive to FentonWorks was silent, the weight of the task ahead pressing down on them. They both knew that putting together a slideshow for Danny’s memorial meant reliving moments that would be bittersweet at best, excruciating at worst. But they also knew it was something they had to do—for Jazz, for Danny, and for themselves.
When they arrived at the Fenton household, the normally bustling lab and living quarters felt eerily still. Jazz met them at the door, her face pale and drawn, but she managed a small smile of gratitude. “Thanks for coming,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got everything set up in the living room.”
Sam and Tucker followed her inside, exchanging a glance that spoke volumes about their shared grief. They entered the living room, where a laptop was set up on the coffee table, Danny’s cracked phone beside it. A box of his belongings sat nearby, items carefully wrapped in evidence bags.
Jazz sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the phone as if it were a lifeline to her brother. “I started going through his photos, but… I just couldn’t.”
“We’ll take care of it, Jazz,” Tucker said softly, sitting down next to her and opening the laptop. He connected Danny’s phone and began the process of transferring the photos and videos. Sam hovered nearby, her eyes scanning the room filled with memories of their time with Danny.
As the images began to populate the screen, a mixture of emotions flooded them—laughter, joy, and the stark reminder of what they’d lost. Pictures of Danny, Sam, and Tucker at the Nasty Burger, at school, and during their countless adventures. Each one was a reminder of how vibrant and full of life Danny had been.
“I’m going to go get some of Danny’s other things,” Jazz murmured, excusing herself from the room. Sam watched her go, a pang of sorrow hitting her. Jazz had always been the strong one, but even she had her limits.
Tucker was about to start organizing the photos into a slideshow when Danny’s phone buzzed, startling them both. They exchanged confused glances.
“Who would be texting Danny’s phone now?” Tucker muttered, picking it up. His eyes widened as he read the message that had just come through.
Sam leaned over, her heart skipping a beat. The message was from an unknown number, addressed directly to them.
“Sam, Tucker—it's me, Danny. I need your help. I’m not dead. Meet me at your hideout”
The color drained from Sam’s face as she grabbed the phone from Tucker, rereading the text to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. “This… this has to be a joke, right? Some sort of prank?”
But as she stared at the message, something in her gut told her this wasn’t a prank. It was too specific, too personal. And the sense of urgency in those words felt too real.
Tucker’s mind was already racing. “What if Danny stole someone’s phone? What if he used it to message us because he couldn’t remember our numbers?”
Sam’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered the possibility. It sounded insane. “We need to find out who sent this. If there’s even a chance that Danny’s alive…”
Tucker nodded, his fingers moving quickly over the keys. “I’ll trace the number, see if we can find out where it came from."
Sam watched as Tucker worked, her mind whirling with questions and a growing hope she didn’t dare let herself believe in just yet. But one thing was certain—they couldn’t ignore the message. If there was even a sliver of a chance that Danny was out there, alive and needing their help, they would do whatever it took to help him.
