Martyr

Danny Phantom sat on a floating rock and listened to the anguished screams of the damned.

He couldn't remember how long he had been here- but then, that was the point, wasn't it? He had been damned to an eternity of torture in Hades for his actions. And damn, did it ever feel like an eternity.

Sighing, he leaned over the pool of water again and looked through it into the world of the living. The vision that rippled into existence was one of a funeral. The Foley's stood nearby, Mrs. Foley sniffling into a handkerchief, with Mr. Foley standing next to her, stony faced. Absently, Danny noticed that the usual grey sweater vest had been traded in for a black one. Must be Tucker's funeral, the Halfling thought. Good.

Mentally, he stifled a chuckle- it would have turned into a sob anyway. He had been sentenced to an eternity in Hades, or Hell, the Netherworld, the Underworld, Perdition, Purgatory- whatever you decided to call it, he was stuck here, sentenced to an eternity of being surrounded by suffering, but never being able to save those who suffered.

Through this small pool of water, he had watched his two best friends, and he was afraid. Though both of them had chosen different paths- Sam, insanity, and Tucker, revenge- they were both suffering, and suffering in life could only lead to suffering in death. And so, he saved them the only way that he knew how.

He killed them.

Not directly, of course- no, that would never have worked. They would have ended up here anyway. Instead, he spent many days (Months? Years?) subtly influencing them and their environments. And eventually, they committed a selfish act.

They committed suicide.

How ironic, he thought, that even though suicide was considered a sin, because it was a selfish act, it was only a selfish act (or altruistic) that could get one into Heaven. If he had known that before, he reflected bitterly, would he still have done what he did? But he already knew the answer; of course he would have. After all, if he had moved, the beam would have hit Sam- and then Sam would have ended up here.

So he had played the martyr, and he had died. And somehow, in this twisted and crazy reflection of the world as it should never, ever be, he had been damned. He felt like he had fallen through the looking glass.

And honestly, it didn't matter to him, where he was and how he suffered, but he wanted to prevent it happening to the ones he cared about. There he was, dead and gone and still playing the martyr. Playing the hero.

So slowly, carefully, he had begun. Inconspicuously, he had gotten them all, one by one. First, Sam. Then Tucker, and Jazz, and his parents. Danielle, too, because she was like his sister (hey, they shared DNA, didn't they?). Covertly, he had manipulated and schemed, and driven them all to suicide in one way or another. And so, they all went to heaven.

And still he watched. He watched them in Heaven, from his seat in Hell, and he was happy, at least a little bit, because they weren't suffering anymore. Sure, he was a little bitter- none of them ever wondered why he wasn't there- but that was okay, because honestly, he should have seen this coming. So many things, theories, beliefs and legends had been proven wrong in his experience, in his short lifetime, so why should this one be any different?

Everyone believed that heroes went to Heaven, and lived happily ever after. But that wasn't true. Heroes went to Hell, and that was no life at all.