Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)
Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.
Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.
Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.
A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.
It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.
The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.
No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?
That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.
They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.
And then it was all gone.
The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.
The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.
Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.
A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.
A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.
A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.
Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.
Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.
A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.
But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.
Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.
None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.
"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."
Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.
"Did that just-"
The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.
The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.
Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.
"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."
"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"
Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.
It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.
"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."
A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.
No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.
Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?
The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.
He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.
An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.
"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."
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Consider this: ghosts are actually exactly what the Fentons think they are.
They're snapshots of a longing so strong, unfinished business so deep it reaches out beyond life. Lingers just a bit longer. And if it happens to meet a dense cloud of ectoplasm (invisible to the naked eye, but omnipresent even in the mortal realm), it coalesces. The ectoplasm fits into the shape of it. Which, when the desire is strong enough, it's got a rough idea of its self-image. This tends to mean a more humanoid figure, though it's more often warped in some way–a self-reflection, skewed by said desire. The warping varies on the dead soul’s perception of themselves, the intensity of their desire, how much time passed after death, and how much ectoplasm was present.
In short… no matter how “normal" a ghost looks or acts, it really, truly isn't human. It's animated ectoplasm with a single goal: an obsession. Nothing else. They're more akin to plants than animals, following a single drive with no emotion. They react to stimuli, recognize threats (including other ghosts), and can even imitate human speech and mannerisms to obtain fulfillment of their obsession.
Not “evil" by any stretch, but they're entirely driven by instinct. A tree doesn't pause to consider the rocks it breaks with its roots. A cordyceps doesn't torture its host for fun, or kill with malice. It just does. It follows code in its DNA to survive and multiply–And ghosts just follow the code in its ectoplasm to fulfill its obsession. The more powerful a ghost, the better it's able to overcome obstacles preventing this–whether through brute force, or manipulation. This power is always directly proportional to the amount of ectoplasm present at the time of formation, and how much time passed since death.
What then, does this mean for Danny? Danny, who's previously come to the conclusion that he's only half-ghost, which surely explains how he retained his mind? His independent thoughts and emotions?
What does this mean for Phantom, who experienced an entire world’s worth of ectoplasm condensed as a singularity, at the exact time of his death? Whose strength only grows and begins to exceed every limit they previously thought possible?
If a ghost was as strong as him… could it mimic a human perfectly? Down to a molecular level?
Could it, in its desire to fill an obsession… trick its own fake mind into thinking it was still human? Or half-ghost?
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