CHAPTER 9- FEELING SCARS
Masters sat across from Carpathan. The mayor folded his hands. "What is this about, Masters?" he asked.
"I would like to know why you had the Fentons executed," Masters said calmly. "Didn't we need them to disassemble the ghost portal, then to reassemble it?"
"I understand your confusion," Carpathan began, "but you see, they became expendable a long time ago." He smirked. "The prison has no outside guards. It doesn't need them. Have you ever wondered why?" The mayor snapped his fingers.
At once, a man dressed in black ninja gear and having glowing purple eyes appeared. "This ghost, a loyal assistant of mine, by the way, caught the escaped Fentons roaming the halls dangerously close to the secret entrance. Under my orders, he took them to be executed immediately.
"Ah, so you've been working with a ghost," Masters said, surprised to learn this.
"Yes," Carpathan replied. "And it is for him that I am taking the ghost portal. It wasn't that they were doing anything illegal at all! Aren't I clever?"
"Yes... clever indeed," said Masters. "In fact, I would have done the same."
Carpathan studied Masters closely. "There is something different about you, Masters," Carpathan said.
Masters smiled darkly. "I know." He stood up and left, much relieved that the ghost had not seen him that night. However, he was deeply disturbed by how little he really knew about Carpathan.
,.~*~.,
The Freedom Fighters had all collected around Danny's alley, waiting for him to come out and speak to them, reassure them. Reassure then that they shouldn't give up, that they still had a chance, as their leader usually did.
But Danny did not want to speak to the masses. He wanted to sleep, then wake up to find Tucker and his parents still alive. He hoped it was all a nightmare, but he knew it was an empty hope. This was real.
It had been two days since that night, and Danny hadn't left his alley once since then. He refused to eat; not even Sam could persuade him to. He looked even more distraught than usual, with dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He had a broken heart over the losses his team had suffered. Especially his own.
He wanted to sleep, but he couldn't even allow the eyelids to slip over his eyes, lest he relive everything he was trying to forget. Tucker's screams would fill his ears. His parents' heads rolled before his mind's eye. The white room turned red. Despite his promise, the death was murdering him from the inside out. And he hated it. He hated it more than he hated himself. He was absolutely miserable and becoming worse.
The chattering and whispering outside his alley was driving him crazy. Finally, he had enough of it. The teen threw down his blanket and stormed out of the alley, icy eyes blazing coldly. "Go away!" he yelled. "Or at least shut up so I can have some peace and quiet!" The crowd stared at him, stepping back some. Danny returned to his alley, pleased that not a sound could be heard from outside. He was still deeply troubled, however.
Danny shut his eyes to tame the headache that was beginning to develop in his head. Each traumatic death replayed itself, even after Danny opened his eyes again. He mostly saw images from Tucker's and his parents' deaths. He thought about the ways he could have stopped them from dying, and how he had been too scared to move. Anger he could manage. Sadness he could bottle. But fear... Danny Fenton didn't know how to deal with fear. It had been such a long time since he had last felt the emotion.
Demons invaded his thoughts. You're a failure, Danny. You should just end it all right now. Give up. You have a sword, just run yourself through. Just end this torture here and now. Danny picked up his sword, giving his face a good, long look in the blade. The haggard face stared back at him, depression all over his face. It's not hard. Just do it. You've failed, and they don't need a failure. They deserve better.
Danny shook his head again, tossing the sword aside. He couldn't kill himself when so much was at stake. He had people to protect. But the sword sat there, tempting him with the calm black of death. Wouldn't it be easier just to end it all? But then, Danny didn't want to take the easy road out of this. Killing himself would be that easy road. But nothing was ever that easy, was it?
"I've failed," he croaked, icy eyes full of sadness. The demons in his head agreed, again telling him to kill himself. He had failed this time and he would always fail. That nobody cared about him anyway...
"Feel your scars," said a female voice from behind him.
The demons dispersed at the sound of her voice. Danny turned around and saw Sam standing there. "Sam..." he rasped. He still had Sam, at least. She cared about him, didn't she?
"Go ahead. Feel your scars," Sam repeated.
Danny shut his eyes and touched the smooth, pinkish scar on his forehead, then slowly traced it down over his eyelid and down his cheek. "So? They're reminders of my past failures," he said quietly, opening his eyes again.
"No, Danny. They're reminders of past victories, reminders that you haven't failed," Sam declared.
Danny felt a smile tug at his lips for the first time in a long time. He looked up at her with his ice-blue eyes. "I promised that I wouldn't let death murder me," he said, thinking back to his suicidal thoughts he had just been having. "Thanks for helping me keep that promise." She had saved his life without knowing it. The teen stood up and hugged Sam tightly.
"You're welcome," said Sam. "Now come on; the whole team is waiting for you to tell them what we do next."
Danny nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I suppose they are," he said. Danny and Sam came out of the alley. The boy began waving his arms and shouting, "Freedom Fighters! Gather around! There's important business to discuss now!"
The team began to gather around Danny and Sam. Thirty-five teenagers, waiting on an answer and some help from their leaders. Danny took a deep breath and began to speak. "Right now, we're weaker than we've ever been. But we shoudl resolve to become stronger, despite our numbers and our losses. We can't forget what happened two nights ago, but we don't have to swim in it... or drown in it." He paused and took a deep breath. "I know I've been a fool lately. I'll try my best to lead this team now. Can... can you all forgive me?"
"Of course we can," said John from within the crowd. Others agreed.
Danny smiled softly. "Thanks. Now, first things first." He cleared his throat. "As you all know, Tucker is dead." He swallowed. "And... we need someone to replace his technical support to this team. Nobody replaces him. Just his techincal support. Someone to complete the three, to take on leadership, to---"
"I'll do it." Danny began looking around to see who spoke. The crowd then parted to reveal none other than young Chris Morgan. "I'll do it, Danny," he repeated. "I was really close to Tucker, and I'm a technophile. I can do that job."
Danny was mildly surprised, but soon realized it was the perfect choice. While this boy could never replace Tucker's friendship, he could definitely do the job. "All right, then... what was your name again?"
"Chris."
Danny nodded. "Come up here, Chris. You're with us now."
The 12-year-old hurried up to stand with Danny and Sam, smiling nervously. The crowd clapped for him with enthusiasm, especially Brent, whose expression was hidden beneath a plaster of bandages. He must've been proud of his brother.
Danny, however, wasn't quite sure how their youngest member would fare as a leader. He'll be fine, Danny thought. He hoped his choice was right, and he hoped that Chris was right about volunteering.
,.~*~.,
Danny was alone in his alley once more, sitting with his back against the dumpster. He was finally thinking about actually sleeping, and, perhaps eating. But he was also thinking about all of the sorrow he had locked up inside of him. And underneath all of that, deep in the pits of his heart, lay a large empty spot.
It was the emptiness that had been growing there since the start of his team nearly a year ago. Now it was a massive hole of gnawing, hollow darkness that wouldn't go away. It threatened to swallow him whole one day, unless he was able to find what made it gnaw at him so. And the ice in his veins made him even hungrier for that one thing, that passion that he couldn't identify. It was tearing him up inside; killing him slowly; eating him alive from the inside out. Danny wanted it to stop so he could fill the hole.
Little did he know he would soon find out what the passion was...
,.~*~.,
"I would like to know why you had the Fentons executed," Masters said calmly. "Didn't we need them to disassemble the ghost portal, then to reassemble it?"
"I understand your confusion," Carpathan began, "but you see, they became expendable a long time ago." He smirked. "The prison has no outside guards. It doesn't need them. Have you ever wondered why?" The mayor snapped his fingers.
At once, a man dressed in black ninja gear and having glowing purple eyes appeared. "This ghost, a loyal assistant of mine, by the way, caught the escaped Fentons roaming the halls dangerously close to the secret entrance. Under my orders, he took them to be executed immediately.
"Ah, so you've been working with a ghost," Masters said, surprised to learn this.
"Yes," Carpathan replied. "And it is for him that I am taking the ghost portal. It wasn't that they were doing anything illegal at all! Aren't I clever?"
"Yes... clever indeed," said Masters. "In fact, I would have done the same."
Carpathan studied Masters closely. "There is something different about you, Masters," Carpathan said.
Masters smiled darkly. "I know." He stood up and left, much relieved that the ghost had not seen him that night. However, he was deeply disturbed by how little he really knew about Carpathan.
,.~*~.,
The Freedom Fighters had all collected around Danny's alley, waiting for him to come out and speak to them, reassure them. Reassure then that they shouldn't give up, that they still had a chance, as their leader usually did.
But Danny did not want to speak to the masses. He wanted to sleep, then wake up to find Tucker and his parents still alive. He hoped it was all a nightmare, but he knew it was an empty hope. This was real.
It had been two days since that night, and Danny hadn't left his alley once since then. He refused to eat; not even Sam could persuade him to. He looked even more distraught than usual, with dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He had a broken heart over the losses his team had suffered. Especially his own.
He wanted to sleep, but he couldn't even allow the eyelids to slip over his eyes, lest he relive everything he was trying to forget. Tucker's screams would fill his ears. His parents' heads rolled before his mind's eye. The white room turned red. Despite his promise, the death was murdering him from the inside out. And he hated it. He hated it more than he hated himself. He was absolutely miserable and becoming worse.
The chattering and whispering outside his alley was driving him crazy. Finally, he had enough of it. The teen threw down his blanket and stormed out of the alley, icy eyes blazing coldly. "Go away!" he yelled. "Or at least shut up so I can have some peace and quiet!" The crowd stared at him, stepping back some. Danny returned to his alley, pleased that not a sound could be heard from outside. He was still deeply troubled, however.
Danny shut his eyes to tame the headache that was beginning to develop in his head. Each traumatic death replayed itself, even after Danny opened his eyes again. He mostly saw images from Tucker's and his parents' deaths. He thought about the ways he could have stopped them from dying, and how he had been too scared to move. Anger he could manage. Sadness he could bottle. But fear... Danny Fenton didn't know how to deal with fear. It had been such a long time since he had last felt the emotion.
Demons invaded his thoughts. You're a failure, Danny. You should just end it all right now. Give up. You have a sword, just run yourself through. Just end this torture here and now. Danny picked up his sword, giving his face a good, long look in the blade. The haggard face stared back at him, depression all over his face. It's not hard. Just do it. You've failed, and they don't need a failure. They deserve better.
Danny shook his head again, tossing the sword aside. He couldn't kill himself when so much was at stake. He had people to protect. But the sword sat there, tempting him with the calm black of death. Wouldn't it be easier just to end it all? But then, Danny didn't want to take the easy road out of this. Killing himself would be that easy road. But nothing was ever that easy, was it?
"I've failed," he croaked, icy eyes full of sadness. The demons in his head agreed, again telling him to kill himself. He had failed this time and he would always fail. That nobody cared about him anyway...
"Feel your scars," said a female voice from behind him.
The demons dispersed at the sound of her voice. Danny turned around and saw Sam standing there. "Sam..." he rasped. He still had Sam, at least. She cared about him, didn't she?
"Go ahead. Feel your scars," Sam repeated.
Danny shut his eyes and touched the smooth, pinkish scar on his forehead, then slowly traced it down over his eyelid and down his cheek. "So? They're reminders of my past failures," he said quietly, opening his eyes again.
"No, Danny. They're reminders of past victories, reminders that you haven't failed," Sam declared.
Danny felt a smile tug at his lips for the first time in a long time. He looked up at her with his ice-blue eyes. "I promised that I wouldn't let death murder me," he said, thinking back to his suicidal thoughts he had just been having. "Thanks for helping me keep that promise." She had saved his life without knowing it. The teen stood up and hugged Sam tightly.
"You're welcome," said Sam. "Now come on; the whole team is waiting for you to tell them what we do next."
Danny nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I suppose they are," he said. Danny and Sam came out of the alley. The boy began waving his arms and shouting, "Freedom Fighters! Gather around! There's important business to discuss now!"
The team began to gather around Danny and Sam. Thirty-five teenagers, waiting on an answer and some help from their leaders. Danny took a deep breath and began to speak. "Right now, we're weaker than we've ever been. But we shoudl resolve to become stronger, despite our numbers and our losses. We can't forget what happened two nights ago, but we don't have to swim in it... or drown in it." He paused and took a deep breath. "I know I've been a fool lately. I'll try my best to lead this team now. Can... can you all forgive me?"
"Of course we can," said John from within the crowd. Others agreed.
Danny smiled softly. "Thanks. Now, first things first." He cleared his throat. "As you all know, Tucker is dead." He swallowed. "And... we need someone to replace his technical support to this team. Nobody replaces him. Just his techincal support. Someone to complete the three, to take on leadership, to---"
"I'll do it." Danny began looking around to see who spoke. The crowd then parted to reveal none other than young Chris Morgan. "I'll do it, Danny," he repeated. "I was really close to Tucker, and I'm a technophile. I can do that job."
Danny was mildly surprised, but soon realized it was the perfect choice. While this boy could never replace Tucker's friendship, he could definitely do the job. "All right, then... what was your name again?"
"Chris."
Danny nodded. "Come up here, Chris. You're with us now."
The 12-year-old hurried up to stand with Danny and Sam, smiling nervously. The crowd clapped for him with enthusiasm, especially Brent, whose expression was hidden beneath a plaster of bandages. He must've been proud of his brother.
Danny, however, wasn't quite sure how their youngest member would fare as a leader. He'll be fine, Danny thought. He hoped his choice was right, and he hoped that Chris was right about volunteering.
,.~*~.,
Danny was alone in his alley once more, sitting with his back against the dumpster. He was finally thinking about actually sleeping, and, perhaps eating. But he was also thinking about all of the sorrow he had locked up inside of him. And underneath all of that, deep in the pits of his heart, lay a large empty spot.
It was the emptiness that had been growing there since the start of his team nearly a year ago. Now it was a massive hole of gnawing, hollow darkness that wouldn't go away. It threatened to swallow him whole one day, unless he was able to find what made it gnaw at him so. And the ice in his veins made him even hungrier for that one thing, that passion that he couldn't identify. It was tearing him up inside; killing him slowly; eating him alive from the inside out. Danny wanted it to stop so he could fill the hole.
Little did he know he would soon find out what the passion was...
,.~*~.,