[Third Person POV]
The Penguin went flying backward from the thunderous explosion that engulfed him, the detonation ripping through the air with a deafening roar. Smoke clung stubbornly to his body, curling around him in greasy black tendrils as his once-pristine suit hung in shredded ribbons. Burn marks scorched his pale skin beneath the tattered fabric, angry welts glowing faintly beneath the flickering streetlights. He skidded violently along the cracked road, his body bouncing and scraping until friction finally stole his momentum. When he finally came to a stop, he slid a few more feet on his back, leaving behind a dark, blood-like smear across the asphalt.
A strangled groan tore itself from his throat as he rocked weakly from side to side in the debris, his body twitching from the pain of the blast. Each movement sent shards of broken pavement digging deeper into his skin. The wail of distant alarms and the faint hiss of settling rubble were all but drowned out by the searing guitar riff that cut through the chaos—Ember's music, sharp and merciless, filling the air with an electric hum that rattled the bones.
Through the haze of smoke and the pounding in his head, Oswald forced himself up onto his elbows. His vision swam in and out of focus, but then he froze, pupils contracting at the sight of a shadow emerging from the lingering wall of smoke. A foot stepped forward first, the pavement cracking faintly under its weight. Then the rest of the figure followed—Danny.
He strode out of the haze like a phantom born of fire and ash, exhaling a stream of thick smoke from his mouth as if he had swallowed the explosion itself. Emerald flames licked at his shoulders and part of his face, their ghostly light reflecting off the sharp angles of his face. His eyes glowed an otherworldly neon green, bright and unyielding as they locked on the Penguin with a predator's intensity.
The Penguin's breath hitched, but he forced his trembling hand upward, desperation hardening into blind rage. With a snarl, he unleashed a barrage of crackling energy blasts from his cane. "Die! Die! Die!" he roared, each word punctuated by another blinding flash of green light. Beams tore through the air like wild lightning, scorching the pavement and blasting chunks of stone into the void of the Ghost Zone.
But Danny pivoting on his heel and weaving side to side with effortless precision. Each shot flashed past him by mere inches, but his glowing eyes never wavered from their target. In a single, sudden burst of speed, he lunged forward, closing the distance in less than a heartbeat. His hand shot out and seized the cane mid-blast, sparks crackling where their grips collided.
For a brief instant, the two locked in a tense tug-of-war, Oswald's knuckles whitening as he struggled to wrench the weapon free. Danny's face remained impassive, the green fire dancing brighter around him. Then, with a twist of his wrist, Danny lifted the cane upward, yanking the Penguin clear off his feet. Before Oswald could scream, Danny phased through the cracked street and dragged him down into solid matter, smashing his face across the jagged ground as he passed not taking Penguin with him.
The Penguin bounced from the force and Danny erupted back into the open air, and Danny followed with a devastating punch that snapped Oswald's head back. Blood and teeth scattered in the air as the force launched him upward like a rag doll. Danny conjured a glowing chain of ectoplasmic energy around Penguin's leg, then swung downward with terrifying force, slamming the Penguin back into the road. The ground split beneath the impact, the pavement collapsing to reveal the swirling green void of the Ghost Zone yawning below.
Before Oswald could even comprehend the abyss beneath him, Danny shot into the sky, pulling him back up with the chain as if he weighed nothing at all. With a savage twist, he swung the Penguin down again, smashing him against the torn street until his prized cane slipped free from his grasp and clattered uselessly into the rubble.
Oswald lay sprawled in a broken heap, his body a bloodied ruin. He coughed violently, spattering crimson across the pavement, each breath a ragged wheeze. His ears rang so violently it felt as though his skull were splitting, Ember's relentless music only amplifying the torture.
When his blurred vision finally cleared, he found Danny standing over him—silent, immovable, eyes narrowed with a storm of conflicting emotions. Danny's expression flickered between rage and something deeper, something wounded and unreadable.
The Penguin's trembling fingers stretched to the side, seeking the only lifeline he knew. The fallen cane began to quiver, vibrating against the ground before slowly levitating toward his hand. But before it could reach him, Danny's arm flashed out like lightning. He snatched the cane mid-air, snapped it cleanly across his thigh, and tossed the broken halves into the glowing abyss below. A harsh, metallic screech echoed as green smoke curled upward from the shattered weapon.
He stepped forward again, his shadow falling over the battered crime lord. Danny stared down at his own fist for a tense heartbeat, his knuckles slick with blood and ectoplasmic residue. Then he drove it mercilessly into Oswald's stomach. The Penguin gagged, a spray of blood and spit bursting from his lips. His vision swam with black spots as the iron taste of his own blood coated his tongue.
With a sharp kick, Danny rolled him onto his back and mounted his chest, gripping the frayed collar of the ruined suit. Then the punches began. First came one, then another—each a thunderous crack that echoed across the ruined street. Danny's hardened expression barely shifted, but every strike landed not on the Penguin's face, but on Bruce's. He kept punching, his own hands and face growing slick with blood, until Oswald's features were a swollen, unrecognizable ruin and his body sagged limp beneath him.
At last Danny froze, his fist hovering inches above the mangled face. It trembled violently, knuckles white, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He bit down on his lip until he tasted his own blood, torn between gratitude and wrath.
He didn't know what he wanted more—to thank the man who had given him a chance to see his family again, or to kill the one who had forced him to give it all up. Because of Oswald, he had been reunited with the people he loved. But now, because of him, Danny would have to let them go once more. All of it—every smile, every embrace—would have to be sacrificed so the world could be set right again.
"It… it isn't fair…" Danny whispered, though the words cracked and broke halfway out of his throat. His voice sounded foreign—thin, trembling, but heavy with a grief too vast to contain. Hot tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, blurring the bloody ruin of the street around him. "Why… why does a bastard like him get to live," he choked out, his shoulders trembling, "while my entire family has to die?" His breath came in short, ragged bursts, each word a knife twisting deeper. "They're good people—better than anyone. They deserve to live… not someone like him. So tell me…" His voice faltered, cracking into a broken rasp. "In what world is that considered fair?"
The air itself seemed to tighten around him as his grief hardened into fury. Danny's voice dropped lower, rougher, scraping out of his throat like the growl of a wounded animal. "If they don't get to live," he said, his tone sharp enough to cut stone, "then neither should he."
Ectoplasmic light flared to life around his clenched fist, wrapping his knuckles in a violent emerald glow. The energy crackled with a volatile, electric hiss, each spark dancing across his skin like wildfire. Veins bulged along his neck and temple as he tightened his grip, the strain painting his face in shadow and sickly green light. His neon eyes burned with a wild, feverish gleam—a mixture of sorrow, rage, and something dangerously close to madness.
A sound rose from deep within his chest, low at first, then swelling into a guttural roar that seemed to tear free from his very soul. He swung his glowing fist downward with a primal cry, the ectoplasmic aura roaring like a living flame.
But before the blow could land, a sharp clang cut through the night. A metal-clad hand clamped around his wrist, halting the strike inches from the Penguin's ruined face. Sparks of green energy fizzed and spat where the two forces met. Ember's guitar riff died away in the same instant, leaving behind a hollow silence that seemed deafening after the chaos.
Danny's arm trembled violently against the iron grip holding him back. He looked up through tear-streaked eyes and found himself staring into the familiar, unyielding gaze of his father. Jack Fenton stood beside him, his orange hazmat suit smeared with soot and grime, his metal glove locked like a vice around Danny's ectoplasmic fist. Jack gave a small, meaningful shake of his head—no words at first, just a quiet plea in the look he gave his son.
"Dad…" Danny's voice cracked into a near-sob. "I… I want to kill him. I want to kill him so badly…" His shoulders hitched as the tears finally spilled down his cheeks. "He's the reason for all of this! He's the reason I have to lose you all over again!"
Jack slowly released his grip on Danny's fist, only to pull him into a firm, grounding embrace. "I know, son," he said softly, his deep voice carrying a steady warmth that cut through the icy rage. "I know." He tightened the hug, holding tightly onto Danny. "But you're better than this. You aren't a killer. Don't let him turn you into something you're not. If he destroys the part of you that still makes you human, then he's already won. Don't give him that satisfaction."
Danny shuddered against his father's chest, his breathing uneven. Jack cupped the back of his head and continued, his words deliberate and heavy with conviction. "Listen to me, young man. That ghost side of you—it gives you incredible powers, abilities no one else could even dream of. But it's your human side that gives you the power to be so much more. That's where your heart is. That's what makes you, you. Never, ever let anyone take that away from you. Not him. Not anyone. You hear me?"
Danny swallowed hard, his body trembling as the last of his fury bled into quiet sobs. He managed a shaky nod, the tears streaming freely now, leaving hot trails across his blood-stained cheeks. "I… I hear you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.
Jack eased back and looked his son in the eyes, a faint, encouraging smile softening his features. "Good," he said, giving Danny's shoulder a firm squeeze. Then he straightened, rising to his full height with a renewed fire in his gaze. He extended a broad, calloused hand toward his son. "Now come on," he said with a spark of determination. "We've got one last job to finish. As a family." Jack's smile widened just enough to show a flash of the old excitement. "Let's hunt us a ghost."
Danny wiped his sleeve across his eyes, blinking away the last of his tears. He reached up and clasped his father's hand, feeling its steady strength pull him back to his feet. Together, father and son turned toward the next threat—Desiree—who writhed and struggled against the combined effort of the others restraining her.
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