Portals

Lost

Just a note: in this story, the evil Julian story arc in RC never happened. Cheers and read on, AT.

Danny wasn't entirely sure what had happened. One moment he had been trying to investigate the weird whirlpool thing, the next he was sucked into the swirling green mist headfirst. He let out a yell as he plunged through. After a long fall- or slip, or whatever it was- he broke through, tumbling head over heels until he landed face up with a smack on stone. He shut his eyes, waiting for his head to stop spinning.

"Great, another white-haired guy. Where do you think they're coming from?"

There was a sound that Danny could only describe as a series of squeaks, but whoever was talking replied as if he was carrying on a conversation.

"Yes, I'm sure that the portal doesn't lead to a retirement home! This one's still a kid!" Something nudged his side and he groaned. "Wait, I think he's still alive."

Danny peeled open his eyes, which shot open as wide as they could when he saw who- what was hovering over him. This cloaked ghost had the most green, gnarled skin he had ever seen, with heavy-lidded eyes that seemed to pick him apart. It reminded him a bit of Spectra, but this guy obviously didn't use misery to make himself look beautiful. Not to mention the rat standing on his head using a dust bunny as a wig.

Danny let out a soft scream as he ripped himself away from the floor, legs fading into his tail. He hovered over the ghost, reaching for the Fenton Thermos dangling over his shoulder. He slowed, though, as he noticed the chains wrapped around the ghost's hands. A quick glance up told him they were in a cavern of some sort, deep underground. The guy obviously wasn't a threat.

Still, he was getting a creepy vibe off of him. This was an old, weird ghost. Probably powerful, by the way he was bound. But whatever the chains were made was holding, so Danny saw no reason to mess with it. As he spun around and phased through the cavern's roof, he failed to notice the swirling green mist on one side of the cavern. The Sorcerer shrugged it off and went back to collecting the tendrils of mist that escaped the portal. He sniffed it and grinned at his rat.

"Oh, this batch is going bad already!" He snapped his fingers and a red spark leapt from his fingertips to the mist that swirled around him. It flashed and became bright red. He lifted one of the Chaos Pearls around his waist and the pearl sucked it in, turning just a shade darker.

The rat chattered in his ear.

"I know, I'm just saving up for a rainy day," he grumbled. As if to prove his point, one of the stalactites overhead dripped and the water landed on his cheek. The Sorcerer snorted and wiped it off, flicking his wet fingers. "I didn't have enough ready last time. That's why the Ninja beat me."

More chattering.

"No, it was because I didn't have enough! You little-!" The Sorcerer turned a shade greener as he rounded on the rat, and there was a ruckus of shouting and squeaking that filled the cavern for a good while.

***

Danny whipped through layer of rock after layer of rock, having lost count a while before. He was more focused on the green ghost, particularly on the fact that he was imprisoned, and how. Most of the stuff his parents made was covered in green gunk to hold ghosts. There was obviously another ghost hunter in the area, possibly several, that have figured out how to use that gold material to hold ghosts. And if the material could hold ghosts as strong as that green guy felt, he didn't stand a chance.

"Note to self," he muttered, "keep away from the crazies."

He burst through the ground, blinded by the bright light that filled the room he had phased into. He let out a yelp and stopped flying, shielding his eyes. It was late afternoon by the looks of it, so wherever that portal had taken him there was only a few hours time difference... or maybe he had spent a decade trapped in limbo like that Boo-mmerang that had rescued him from Dan the first time. Thinking about it made him nauseous. He couldn't be twenty four. It went against everything: not learning to drive, not  moving out the moment he turned eighteen, not drinking himself into oblivion on his twenty-first.