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IMMORTALS

CHAPTER ONE:

There's A Good Reason The Days Are Numbered.

"Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it."

- Lloyd Alexander.

Fairytales should only be told to the young, the old, or the people who were downright mad. This thought kept coursing throughout Samantha Manson's head again and again as she listened quietly to her mother's chirpy, cheerful voice as it blabbed on about some new kind of hat. Her father stood chatting quietly with one of his many colleagues from work that were visiting -this one was William something, Samantha hadn't really been paying attention to majority of the introductions- and were causing quite a bit of work for the servants to clean up later in the evening. For some reason her mother had wanted her to stay by her side, even more so than usual, and when she had asked 'why' earlier her mother had just smiled secretly and tapped her nose with a sharp finger. 'You'll see, Sammy. Just trust me, honey!' she had sugarcoated before skipping off out of Samantha's purple bedroom quarters and out of eyesight.

"-Won't you, Samantha?" Pamela Manson's voice startles the raven-haired girl, who's eyes immediately meet her mother's teal ones.

Samantha bites her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry, can you repeat the question?" she asks, lowering her gaze to the lap of her silky, navy-blue dress.

A scowl crosses her mother's frail features before it disappears just as fast as it came. "Mrs. Richards was just wondering if you would accompany her son as his dance partner later this evening," Pamela says, taking small sips of her tea trying desperately not to smear her lipstick on the rim. Mrs. Richards -a tiny, forty-year old with large brown eyes- nods her head confirming the words Pamela had said, this actions causes her short greying curls to bounce around her face.

"Oh, well, I guess I could be," Samantha says, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Pamela beams brightly, clapping her white-gloved hands together. "Oh joy! Your father and I have the perfect dress for you to wear, Sammykins!"

The comment causes Samantha to blink, confusion coloring her eyes. "Is there something wrong with this dress?" she challenges calmly, Mrs. Richards smiles warmly at the girl while scooting her chair closer to the table. A couple of the table's other occupants giggles quietly, Pamela smiles shaking her head silently. Everyone was happy for some unknown reason that, apparently, Samantha was not informed of. Not likt was surprising. "And I'm left out in the dust..." Samantha mutters quietly to herself, taking a gulp of her now cold tea.

"Honey," Pamela sighs. "A surprise a surprise, you just have to wait and see."

The amethyst-eyed girl leans back in her chair very un-ladylike, practically sneering at her mother. "I'm tired of waiting, waiting is all I do."

No comment from her mother appears, for once it seems that Pamela Manson had nothing to say to her only daughter. Samantha sucks in a breath and stands up, her chair grinding against the floor loudly, "Excuse me," she says quickly before turning on her heel. She stands there for a moment compossing herself. Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in, out...

It's not working...

Samantha speedwalks through the guests all chatting through the palor and drawing room, occasionaly muttering apologies to people, she had to get out of here. Out of this room, away from all these people who were all strangers to her, none of them could care less about her. And her mother was included in that catagory. She could feel the stares people were giving her as she makes her way through the crowd, making a bee-line to the grand stairs. They were judging her before they knew her, this is one of her pet peeves about people, they knew her name but no her. Samantha Manson, freak.

Breathe. Just breathe.

"-What's wrong with her?"

"-werido."

"-drunk."

"-biopolar girl! She was just sittin' there, sippin' at her tea, then she pops off and is causin' a scene!"

Just breathe, Samantha, your almost there...

A gentle hand places itself on her shoulder. "Samantha...? Are you alright, dearie?" Ida Manson asks catiously, rubbing her granddaughter's shoulder with the pad of her thumb, concern overwhelms her grey, twinkling eyes. Without sayin a word, Samantha brushes the hand away.

TWO YEARS LATER

"Let me go!" cries Sam Manson as she attempts to fight of the strong pair of hands wrapped firmly around her midsection, she hits and screams with such a ferocity that the man holding her almost let's her go by accident. "Come on, jackass, it'll be so much easier if you would release me," she says, a small grin curling her painted lips.

His grip on her tightens at the nickname causing the grin on her face to transform into one of pain. "For you, yes, but for me?" he asks almost innocently, "Phantom would never forgive me and I would most likely be a new caretaker for Youngblood to mess with. No thank you."

Sam makes no comment of the name-Youngblood-she quietly files that away in her head for later, it was a ghost most likely, this Youngblood person. Majority anything weird these days were; the clocks going all funny, the weather changing rapidly at random, fully grown trees popping out of no where. It all fell under that category. Some people freaked out during all these events, but Sam had somehow managed to get past her shock and go look for whatever had caused these things, needless to say she found out sooner or later. Felt like later in her eyes, it had taken almost a year and a half to get to the spot she's in today.

A pretty terrible spot, mind you.

Any normal girl would love to be in her situation, Sam was sure of this, being held by one guy while another is awaiting her arrival. But Sam being Sam, wants nothing more than to kick both of them where it hurts.

"Aw, finally got nothing to say, Violet?" Tucker practically smirks at her.

"Do you?" Sam shoots back before she roughly elbows him in the stomach causing him to stubble back, releasing her as he did so, she quickly dashes off down the elaborate hall, out of sight.

She keeps running even when Tucker's yelling for the guards to come and get her. The air in the palace feels harsh to her skin, she didn't even know how the heck there was air in the ghost's realm without trees but that really didn't matter now.

It's terrifying to think that she's surrounded by death everywhere she looked, the people around her were dead a long time ago, still are, but here they were; standing, talking, even dancing around without a care in the world. Kind of inspiring when you think about. Even in death there's happiness, even in death life goes on. Till death do us apart seems like a huge lie to her now that she thinks about it carefully.

Everything ends sooner or later, soon those dancing ghosts wouldn't be dancing anymore they'd be invading the human world again. Slaughtering people without mercy. It's hard for Sam to imagine that, they just look so human to her when she sees them. But they were slaughtering people, not man-slaughtering, slaughtering by the dozen. World War II all over again.

They're exterminating innocent people without mercy. Ghosts can't show mercy, they just can't. Right...? They don't have feelings.

She's arguing to herself now like a crazy person.

But if they don't have feelings then how can they get mad or show pain when ghosthunters fight back, those are emotions. They probably have limited emotions, or they can only feel those two. That makes no sense to her.

It's all impossible.

It's all possible at the same time.

Nothing fits together in her head, it's like pieces of the puzzle are missing or are simply refusing to fit together for her. It's not an easy puzzle she's trying to solve, god no, it's more like a thousand piece puzzle of a black picture. And she's the unfortunate girl, who's never been one for puzzles, that has to solve one on her own. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Run!, her mind is practically screaming at her, just get away!

Just run away from the puzzle and try to find the picture to copy it, piece per piece, no matter how long it takes.

And that's what repeats through her head like a chant as she skids past sharp corners, sliding past opened doors, and running past surprised servants. It's way too quiet for a ghost inhabited place, for dead spirits they were very loud than anything else Sam's ever heard, Tucker had been yelling for guards earlier to get her.

So where are they?, Sam thinks quietly to herself. There's something warm on her shoulder she realizes, her head whips around to meet the emerald-green eyes of an amused female ghost with flaming blue hair and the palest skin Sam's ever seen.

"Now what the heck are you doin' here, dipstick?" She asks, smirking slightly, "Phantom will be so happy."

Sam faintly registers these words, her vision blurring slightly, "What-?" she begins but is cut off by the fact there's a gloved hand covering her mouth and it's glowing with ectoplasmic energy. She screams as she looses consciousness, the last she sees is the flaming-haired girl's eyes flashing a dangerous red.

"She did what?"

Tucker flinches slightly at the tone of Phantom's voice, "Ember knocked her out with help of Skulker, it was the only way to obtain her, Danny."

Phantom nods mutely, plopping down on the available chair in the control room, "I guess so, but we need her awake and you know that," he says, placing his white boots on top of the table much to Tucker's amusement.

"Hey!" Tucker complains, lightly swatting his leg, "Don't do that to poor Susan!" This earns a laugh from the white-haired ghost.

"I'm the king, dude, and really? Susan?"

"Shut up!"

"Wasn't Susan the name of that girl from-?"

"I said 'shut up!', your royal highness," Tucker says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Phantom raises his hands in a sorry gesture, his green eyes clearly saying he wasn't, he stands up again and saunters over to the table Tucker was busy focusing on.

"Where is Violet Rose anyway?" Phantom asks curiously, before quickly adding, "Not that I care or anything but I'm just curious, you know?"

His friend laughs, "It's your castle, man, you know where they put humans who aren't with you," he says, adjusting his glasses, still looking at the piece of technology he was editing at the moment with a screwdriver in hand.

Phantom rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his, "Oh. Yeah, sorry, forgot."

"Sure you did."

"I will feed Susan to Cujo again," Phantom says seriously, Tucker drops his screwdriver as his eyes widen in horror. The ghost grins, letting his friend know he was teasing, before he zips out of the room off to god knows where leaving papers flying around the room.

Tucker groans, "Does he have to do that...?" he asks to no one in particular, crouching down the pick up the papers before Jazz, Phantom's sister, has a heart attack when she walks in and sees the papers she spent hours organizing yesterday on the floor. Didn't want another member of the small royal family threaten to smash Susan in some creative way again.

As of late Danny had been so tense about something, to more specific, about someone. Ever since Clockwork had requested to speak with him, everyone in the Ghost Zone had been ordered to watch out for a girl called Violet Rose, who was apparently an assassin of some sort, and if anyone had found her send word to the palace or to the prison warden, Walker.

When asked about this earlier, Danny -in King Phantom mode- had claimed it was for reasons all his own and they left it at that.

Thank god too. If whatever Clockwork said influenced Danny then it was most likely too poetic for Tucker's tastes, he was never one for poetry, but that still didn't stop him from being curious. After all Danny and him were best friends for years and always had each other's back, no matter what, and if Danny didn't tell him what was going on it English then it was something too big for him to know yet.

But knowing Danny Fenton/Phantom like he did, Tucker would be informed sooner or later in the future when the time was right.

When all is, to quote the time-master himself, as it should be.

Picking up the last piece of paper, Tucker stands back up on his feet, dropping the small pile on the empty countertop next to the computer monitor. He walks back to the area he was standing earlier and grabs a chair to sit in while he works, he plops himself down, and places the ecto-gun usually strapped to his waist on top of the table with a loud CLANK.

Lately all the gun's had been going off at random, they had discovered this one day when they had gone off near Danielle, and they all had to be checked for any bugs or problems in the wiring or software. Every single one. From the standard gun to the shields.

Better get started, Tucker thinks as he opens the gun's wiring compartment, the various wires all spark when it opens. Smoke escapes the small compartment quickly causing him to cough and waft the scent away with his hand.

"What the hell?" he mutters as he grabs the scalpel to get a better look at the problem, he pushes his falling glass up, and looks closer. His eyes widen a what he sees in the small space. "Oh shit."

Ember McClain knew who was at the door before she even phased her head through the door invisibly. With a sigh she opens the door, revealing Danny Phantom himself hovering with an eyebrow up in confusion. She stands, leaning slightly against the doorframe, with stiff shoulders and her hands resting causally at her sides. Any human or ghost would be terrified to see Phantom knocking on their doors, although he only knocks for the chivalry of it, but Ember was surprisingly calm with the situation. When one was, sometimes still is, an enemy of the phantom you do tend to get used to him and his 'scary eyes'.

The scary eyes used to scare her of course but now it was like someone bought a glow-stick and shook it too hard. Ember laughs lightly at this thought for a moment, Phantom watches emotionless.

"Why did you help Tucker catch her?" he asks bluntly. Ember crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking his posture. The least he could say was thank you, she thought, 'oh thank you so much, Ember, for capturing dark Rapunzel!'

"Is there a problem, baby-pop?" she counters back, her hair flaring up an inch at her annoyance.

"No, no, no problem at all. Just me wondering around and checking up on people is all," Phantom says, smiling slightly at her. "Nothing more, nothing less."

Damn boys and their egos.

Ember's purple painted lips frown at him, clearly not buying the excuse at all. She grabs her guitar and slips it on, her fingers toying with the strings creating a soft melody. "You and I both know that's bull, dipstick, now what is it you really want?"

Phantom winces at her words that clearly hit him, "Okay...you got me, Em. I need you to watch Jazz for a bit."

"Isn't she your older sister? She doesn't need a babysitter, you need it more," Ember states, adjusting with the guitar strap on her shoulder, this earns her a grunt from the halfa in front of her. "Don't deny it, your own daughter said so herself."

This remark passes over his head completely, he grabs the diva's gloved hand with his own. "I'm serious, I can't leave Jazz alone right now in her condition. I just can't."

She floats out of the doorway to stand next to him, the door closing and disappearing by itself. "What's wrong with her?" Ember asks, Phantom sighs and begins to fly back towards the castle, she follows him more than a little annoyed that he wasn't apparently going to tell her straight away. This was all a way too normal habit Phantom had picked up recently in the past week.

He'd show up, seemingly out of nowhere, talk, then have someone follow him back to the palace grounds. Then once they've entered the building he'd explain. That's how it now went, anyone could ask all they want and he'd stay silent until the palace.

Silent as a phantom, Ember thought, silently laughing at her own joke.

"Is she alright?" She asks, no response. "Are you gonna pay me to watch her, baby-pop? You should, seeing as I'm doing a job for you, your highness," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm at the name. Everyone knew he still wasn't used to the formal titles bestowed upon him, more like forced, and that it made him uncomfortable.

"Sire," Ember tries again.

No response.

"My lord, King Phantom, Great One, his royal highness, King Halfa," She continues but soon runs out of names, "Are you going ignore me? You shouldn't because I can blast you all the way to the palace myself," she strung random cords on her guitar for proof. No response escapes Phantom, he just continues to fly, Ember flies faster so that she's right next to him.

"The girl, Violet Rose, she knows something," Ember says simply, Phantom looks at her, "I could tell by her reactions to things. She knows something, something she can't remember."

Even though he doesn't say a thing, his expressions indicate they'd talk more about this later on. Finally, they reach the palace entrance and the guards nod a sign of respect towards the white-haired phantom before allowing him and Ember in. Once inside, he motions for her to follow him again through the halls, she complies but floats while he walks.

"Jazz," Phantom begins, sighing a bit, "Had an accident a couple days ago."

Ember blinks, nodding. "Is red alright, dipstick? Hate for you to go through pain because of her and not me."

Laughing a little, he opens a door, "Well..." he trails off, indicating for her to look. Ember lands on the floor silently next to Phantom, tilting her head to the side to look at the image in front of her carefully, her emerald-green eyes widen a bit and she looks at him as if asking if this were happening. He nods, pursing his lips tightly.

"What the-?" The rocker begins, shaking her head, taking a step back, her back almost hitting the wall.

Phantom bounces on his feet, "See why I need you to watch her?" he asks, earning a indulgent remark from the room's occupant.

"Unfortunately, yeah."

Next time in Chapter Two: Silent As The Stars.

Hovering a few feet in the air, she bolts to the door and quickly turns the knob but to no avail, it was locked. With fearful emerald-green eyes, Danielle pounds her fists against the door harshly, "Hello? Can anyone hear me? Please, get me out!" she yells loudly, she hears no response. Pressing her left ear against the wooden door, her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she listens carefully.

Oh my god. Danielle thinks, this can't be happening. No, no, no...I can't...This can't...

A hand grips her shoulder so tightly she swears she can hear a crack, pain clouds her vision entirely. Danielle cries out in pain, her breathes shaking, as she powers up a weak ecto-blast in the palm of her hand.

Tell me what you all think! I'd really appreciate it.