Danny Phantom Fan Fiction ❯ Posthumous Legacies ❯ Reoccurrence ( Chapter 5 )

I've got nothing interesting to say.

 

Posthumous Legacies

 

---

Every other day is a kick in the shins
Every other day it's like the day just wins

---

 

Chapter Five: Reoccurrence

 

I think I'm doing the right thing.

 

It's not like I have superpowers or anything, but I did pick up this really cool scythe thing and a few other weapons. I'm learning how to use them. I've gotten a bit of practice from when Danny was still here.

 

I don't think Danny's dead.

 

He's disappeared into the Ghost Zone. We've all gone into the Ghost Zone before. But this time the door closed behind him and the whole thing shut off.

 

And everyone forgot.

 

Everyone forgot that we'd been plagued by ghosts for a long time. There were vague references back to a few ghosts we'd fought, and the Phantom. But Tucker forgot too. He forgot who the Phantom really was.

 

I don't know how everyone forgot so much. It was like the history of the world had been rewritten.

 

I still don't understand.

 

Why would he leave me?

 

I try not to think about it too much anymore.

 

But it's still there in my mind.

 

So now I'm doing this.

 

Maybe it's a way of making up for the fact that he's gone.

 

But it's going to help.

 

Because I am ready to kick some ass.

 

---

 

“I severely hate you for this,” Sam muttered as she propped herself up against the wall.

 

Grey smiled. “What if he's some pervert? Then what would you do?”

 

“Kill both of you,” she suggested.

 

Grey had emailed TF not long after the Technus incident. He'd been worried for a while, and decided that he'd come up immediately in case she had other technological problems.

 

“He did seem worried, though,” Grey mused, “He can't be that bad if he was worried.”

 

Sam gave a half-snort, half-grunt. “Whatever. I just hope he gets here soon.”

 

They'd decided on the internet café where Grey had first picked up Sam. It was easy and in public, so there wasn't too much to worry about.

 

“He sent me a picture last night,” she said, “I'll be able to recognize him.”

 

“What does he look like?”

 

“Cute.”

 

Sam rolled her eyes. “You are this close to gushing.”

 

“I'm not gushing.”

 

“You will be soon.”

 

“So, just to warn you,” she said off-handedly, “I kind of told him that he might be able to stay… for a while…”

 

Sam groaned. “You did what?”

 

“Oh look!” Grey leaned forward, “Is that him?”

 

A bus had pulled up, and a few people were filing off it. Sam looked on curiously; as against this as she was, she was… inquisitive in who took an interest in Grey. After all, if something happened to Grey, she would be royally screwed.

 

And then she noticed the last person to hop off the bus.

 

“There he is!”

 

`No fucking way.'

 

Unless Sam was officially insane, that person was someone she used to know quite well.

 

That person was Tucker Foley.

 

---

 

The room was filled with books, old and leather-bound, but there was hardly a sign of dust on any of them. A desk lay placidly in the middle of the room, an array of technological devices clashing with the old time look of the room.

 

Not that he cared too much about that.

 

He was dressed in robes and a wide-collared cape that gave him the distinct look of a vampire.

 

Which would not be too far off.

 

A gloved hand reached across the devices until it settled on the simplest looking one: a laptop. He tapped a few keys, frowned, and turned to the clump of flesh beside his desk.

 

“Gula,” he whispered, as if he were talking to a dog. Its head perked up, revealing the large chunk of raw meat it had been chewing on. It gave off a ghostly glow, but not the usual neutrality of green; its aura was a devilish red, one that insisted not to trust the thing.

 

“Fetch Invidia,” he murmured. “I've got a bit of work for him.”

 

It nodded and ran off, looking more pig than human.

 

He smiled. His plans weren't thwarted yet.

 

---

 

Sam jumped back.

 

`Why does my life suck so much?'

 

Grey glanced at her. “What's wrong?”

 

She shook her head. This was bad. (Of course, now that she thought back on it, it should've been obvious who it was. But she avoided the obvious. There was always a deeper meaning underneath.)

 

But she looked at Grey and could only smile.

 

“You definitely picked a pervert,” she sighed.

 

Grey gave her a strange look but ran towards the small-framed young man with incredible speed. She hopped in front of him and Sam could see the surprise cross his face.

 

Sam sighed and headed back to Grey's.

 

It wasn't smart to do this in public.

 

---

 

“I can't believe she just ditched,” Grey sighed. “Must've seen a baddie and gone running.”

 

“A baddie?” Tucker asked.

 

“My friend fights ghosts.”

 

He gave her a strange look. “Your paranoid friend the Reaper?”

 

She nodded quickly. “I know I sound insane. But you said you used to fight ghosts.”

 

“Er, help fight ghosts.”

 

Grey tapped her fingers together. “Anyway, I think she would've warned me. But she has this weird… something was after her, but she killed it. Can you kill ghosts?”

 

“You talk a lot.”

 

“She tells me that too.”

 

He laughed.

 

Grey brushed back a strand of brown hair and pushed open the door. She could hear Sam's bondage boots clunking downstairs; it sounded like she was practicing with her weapons. Sam was still injured; it probably wasn't smart for her to be swinging around a heavy weapon.

 

“Is that `the Reaper?'”

 

Grey narrowed her eyes. “I think she's just trying to piss me off. Last time she trained downstairs she broke my PDA. And a lamp.”

 

“Brutal. I've had my PDA's stolen a few times in the past. I should've just stopped buying them.”

 

She chuckled and moved towards the basement door. “Still have problems like that now?”

 

“Nah. Though I did used to be known as Bad Luck Tuck.”

 

“Well hopefully you're not too unlucky. I just had to release a virus on my own computer a few days ago. I need to reorganize all my files.”

 

“Painful. I couldn't do that.”

 

She eyed his bag carefully as she opened the door. “What'ya got there?”

 

“A few presents. I had to snag `em fast.”

 

“You didn't really have to hurry over here,” Grey felt her cheeks heat up, but she ignored it. “Sam could've taken care of any ghosts that came our way.”

 

“…Did you say Sam?”

 

Grey nodded absently. “She's-”

 

“Right here,” Sam called. She slung the scythe she'd been swinging around over her shoulder and waved. “It's been a while, Tuck.”

 

This could not end well.