Chapter Text
2007
The only thing Danny Fenton wanted at the time was a nap. It had been a rather grueling couple of weeks preparing for finals, fighting ghosts, blackmailing the mayor. That last one should have been a lot of fun, but the paperwork turned out to be a nightmare. But the universe is often cruel and mischievous, especially to people like Danny.
It is tempting to list the complete history of misfortune that has fallen upon Danny Fenton. When one does so, it often results in avoiding the fortunes that come alongside them for the purpose of angst and despair. To treat young Mr. Fenton as if he’s a Matt Murdoch, doomed to wander the cosmos that views him as lesser than the worms inside stool when he’s much closer to a Peter Parker, twelve anxiety attacks away from being a true revolutionary.
However, sometimes the case comes when the universe is simply after the poor lad for no other reason than a quick lark. Sometimes, this takes the form of a relationship between two folks who should be either the closest of friends or the harshest of enemies resulting in romance and bitter heartbreak blooming. Other times, a weed monster possesses your best friend and has her turn everyone in town into plant zombies while you’re out sick with the ghost flu. Then there are the times where your other best friend somehow decides hacking the CIA is a good idea because he thought he was hacking a more obscure government agency. (That ended up being a rather depressing affair that was still two months in Danny’s future.)
And then, there are the times when a bunch of girls summon you during their slumber party. This was not the first time such an event happened. There were the dozens of rather inexplicable cults that sprung about shortly after a rather infuriating chase through time and relative dimensions in space against a somewhat pathetic cheese billionaire with some questionable hang ups. And then there was that one night he denied being summoned by his own parents. (The less said of that, the better.)
But this was the first time young Danny had been summoned outside of his hometown of Amity Park. What’s more, the summoning resulted in some… changes in his demeanor and physicality. Not that he noticed at the time. He was too busy being perplexed by the three little girls who had summoned him. Usually, summoners were no younger than fourteen, maybe thirteen if he was being more honest with himself. And they were often people he already knew from town who just wanted an autograph or to paint his nails. Strangers, meanwhile, tended to be roughly in the late 20s/early 30s demographic with desires ranging from “Can I conquer the world with your power” to “I want to see your insides and I do not care if you survive the process. For science” to “Look, my boss is a real jerk and I’m pretty sure he’s got some ghost shit going on. So can you please mess with Vlad for a bit.” Danny liked that last one as he often liked to mess with Vlad.
But these were literal babies. Five year olds, maybe seven. All babies looked the same to Danny. What were they doing summoning a ghost? For that matter, how were they able to summon a ghost? It was clear that none of the babies had any ectoplasmic radiation on them, no means of connecting with the spiritual implications of the infinite realms. At most, they might be able to watch Casper the Friendly Ghost.
And yet, there was an air of time to the three of them, and not just because it tasted of the future (which had an acidic undertone akin to eating one of Tucker’s PDAs). Not individually, but collectively. Time had a mark on all of them. Which meant that Clockwork wanted the put upon halfa to talk with them. With the sigh of resignation that so often comes when dealing with whatever bullshit Clockwork has going on, Danny asked, “So… What do you want?”
The three girls before him stood in a triangular formation. The smallest (though that was a relative term considering they were all babies) stood on the left with short black hair, blue overalls, and a green clip that reminded Danny of baby Sam. The girl on the right had frizzy brown hair, a more nervous disposition, and striking blue eyes that reminded Danny of his older sister. The third girl, standing between and in front of the other two, had blonde hair done up in a ponytail, a cocksure grin that looked a lot like Danny’s Cousin’s, and a desire to protect the other two that felt far too familiar for Danny’s comfort.
It was this girl who spoke, “We–We have su-su-summoned you, King of the Dead, to pro-prove that we are not af-afr-afrai-fraid of you!”
Danny looked at the three girls–the other two clearly in awe of the third’s bravery–with the bewilderment typically experienced by school teachers as students try to excuse their attempts at skipping class by saying “I didn’t do anything.” This was what he was taken out of bed for? This is what Clockwork wanted him to know? This? Danny looked down to see the summoning circle the girls had presumably made had a great number of errors expected of drawings made by people who hadn't even gone to middle school.
Normally, Danny isn’t one to mess with babies. They do, after all, have to grow up at some point or another and they typically don’t know any better. But then, Danny normally has six hours of sleep a week as opposed to the three hours accumulated over three weeks he’s been working under. So fuck it , he thought as he began to unhinge his jaw at a 90 degree angle.
The next thirty minutes are best described with a series of swear words repeated over the course of less than five minutes spoken at speeds that would twist a sane man’s tongue. It got worse when Danny stepped out of the circle, his eyes melting in their sockets as he did so, replaced with an eerie, piercing green light in each one, no larger than the tip of a ballpoint pen.
It was, all things considered, not one of his better pranks. Upon reflection, the girls had done nothing in particular to gain his ire. Most summonings of non-cultists were pleasant enough affairs. And these girls hadn’t done anything truly wrong. Even if they had, the methodology of Danny’s prank was, at best, amateurish and rushed. He went immediately for the bodily distortion and grime when he should have started with the uncomfortable conversation full of implications and meaning (no doubt what Clockwork wanted him to do). But he hadn’t slept since the Box Ghost’s wedding three weeks ago. Much like a baseball player was always going to be hit with a ball after the previous player sauntered his way to a home run, the girls were going to pay the price for other people’s mistakes.
Danny approached the three girls with an air of menace and contempt. His claws outstretched, his canines turned sharpened fangs, and his body contained an infinity of space. The girls could not walk back any further as the wall blocked their way to a fall of three stories. They looked at the being before them, sharp daggers for teeth and a sharper glare in his eyes. And he looked at them with a cosmic insignificance in his eyes.
And the voice said “Boo.” before Danny vanished back to his room and slept for nine days. He didn’t really think of that night for a couple of years. All the while forces beyond the human looked at the brief encounter with anticipation before returning to their old computer system.