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raaorqtpbpdy · 10 months ago

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Have You Ever...

Danny gets invited to a hero convention as Danny Phantom, and his booth is next to none other than the legendary Ben 10, one of Danny's own favorite heroes. But when the two start playing a modified version of Never-Have-I-Ever to alleviate their boredom between handshakes with fans, they accidentally expose some things they didn't really mean to.

You can also read it on AO3

Written for X-over Danuary Week 2024, Day 1: Ben 10 | Prison Thanks @crossoverdanuary for running this!

I got a late start because I had DnD today, and I finished this at like 10pm, so I didn't have time to edit. I'm planning on editing it later this week, but until then, sorry for any mistakes. [Edit: it has now been edited]

[Warning for mentions of past traumatic experiences]

It was weird to see such a huge convention center so empty.

Well, it wasn't completely empty, but a few people carrying boxes and setting up displays was a significantly smaller crowd than Danny would normally expect to see in a place like this.

"Ah! Danny Phantom you're here!" A woman with a high ponytail and a convention staff t-shirt walked over to him. "Wow, I'm so excited that you actually came!"

Her voice was familiar.

"Sally, right?" he guessed. "Sally Braddock?"

"You remembered!" She said brightly.

Sally had been the one who'd convinced Danny to come to this convention. She'd offered him pretty substantial payment, but it was only when she told him he could have three free tickets to the convention as well that Tucker told him he had to agree or they wouldn't be friends anymore.

So here he was, at San Diego Hero Con, halfway across the country, to sit at a table and sign autographs for a few hours each day, and then do an hour-long panel with a bunch of other teen heroes, and another tomorrow on specifically ghost hunting. (He was still debating whether he should actually show up to that one, or if it would be too dangerous.) The worst part, though, was how early he had to wake up to set up his booth before the event started.

"Here's your presenter badge," Sally said, and handed him a bright yellow name tag clipped to a blue lanyard with the convention's logo on it. "Celebrity meet-and-greets are over there. I'll lead the way. We try not to put them too close to each other or the lines get out of control, but your booth is right next to Ben 10's."

Danny perked up at that. "The alien guy?"

"Yup!"

Oh, man, he hoped he'd get the chance to talk to him. Ben 10 was Danny's favorite superhero. He got to fight real life aliens, sometimes in actual space! And sure, Danny had been to space before that one time Technus had taken over a satellite, but it had still been a ghost fight. It wasn't the same.

"So, this is your table," Sally said, pointing to an empty, white folding table. "Do you have a tablecloth, or banners or headshots or anything?" she asked him with a tight smile.

"Uh.... I don't photograph well," he replied.

Sally sighed. "Well, I can bring over one of the convention tablecloths, but you really should get some kind of poster or cardboard cut-out or something that shows people who they're meeting. And you'll definitely need something to sign. Comic books, or T-shirts. Anything, really. There's a portrait artist in Artists Alley who works pretty fast, her name is Jess. If you get something from her, I can send a gopher to make copies for you to sign."

"Uh, okay? But, I can just call a friend to bring something."

"Whatever works." With that, Sally left to go organize something else.

Danny called up Sam, who was back at the hotel with Tucker—Tucker would no doubt still be sleeping—and asked her to find a nearby print shop and get a Danny Phantom Banner to hang up and a whole bunch of 8x10 illustrations of him. He let her pick the picture, but asked her to please not pick anything too embarrassing.

Right as he hung up, a pair of people approached the booth next to him carrying plastic tubs. It was none other than Ben 10 himself and a tall, furry, blue alien who was no doubt one of his allies. (That or a cosplayer, but since they were with Ben 10 himself, Danny felt safe in assuming that they really were an alien.) The two of them placed their tubs on the floor and opened them up to start unpacking their display.

"Woah, hi!" Danny said, louder than he meant to.

Ben 10 snapped his head around, muscles tensing. Danny recognized that response all too well, and tried not to let out a sympathetic wince.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You're Ben 10, right? I know this is cringey to say, but I'm a huge fan."

"Uh, thanks? Just Ben is fine."

"I'm Danny Phantom, but you can just call me Danny."

"I can see that... uh... nice to meet you?" Ben replied. He seemed uncomfortable. Had Danny come on too strong.

"Something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not," Ben said, though it wasn't very convincing.

"I am Rook Blonko," Ben's companion said, offering Danny a handshake which he excitedly accepted. "It is an honor to meet another hero, though I will admit, it was only recently that I came to learn about you."

"Oh, yeah," Danny let out an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "My scope is a lot more regional and sometimes not very... in this dimension."

"That would be... the Ghost Zone, right?" Ben said casually. "What's it like? Anything like the Null Void?"

So he was at least somewhat familiar with Danny and his exploits. Danny tried not to let that go to his head, but he couldn't help feeling a little giddy nonetheless. Ben laid down a black tablecloth with his logo on it and spread it across his table. This definitely wasn't his first rodeo.

"I don't know about the Null Void," Danny said. "It's like the bottom side of this dimension. It's where ghosts live... or... not live. Reside. Almost everything is green because of all the ectoplasm there, and when humans go there, they can pass right through walls and objects just like ghosts can in this dimension."

"That does not sound like the Null Void at all," Rook observed, pulling rods and boards out of one of the boxes and assembling them into a small standing shelf.

"What's the Null Void like?" Danny asked.

"Mostly red," Ben said with a shrug. "Full of floating islands and enormous aliens. Used as a penal colony for this dimension's worst criminals."

"Oh... yeah, no. Aside from the floating islands, that doesn't sound anything like the Ghost Zone," Danny agreed. "Although it's kind of a cool coincidence that we both have experience with alternate dimensions."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ben looked over at Danny and his sad excuse for a booth—really looking for the first time. "First time at one of these things?"

"Oh yeah," Danny confirmed. "My friend is bailing me out at a print shop right now, but I was so unprepared."

Ben snorted. "Here," he said, digging through one of his boxes and pulling out a bright green swath of fabric. "You can use one of my tablecloths. I brought an extra, just in case. It has my logo on one side, but if you turn it around so the logo faces you no one will be the wiser. We have basically the same color scheme, so it works out."

"Thanks," Danny accepted the tablecloth, slightly surprised, and spread it out over his table. It was almost exactly ectoplasm green, just a shade or two darker. "Have you been to a lot of conventions?"

"A few," Ben said.

"This is your fourth," Rook said.

"That sounds right. If it hadn't been for Rook, I probably would've been just as lost as you at my first one. He's all about preparing in advance. But yeah, I've been a public hero for over a year now, and since my identity isn't a secret anymore, it's easier for the people who run these things to get a hold of me."

"About that... why don't you have a secret identity?"

"It wasn't exactly my choice," Ben replied. "Some kid found it out and exposed me on the internet. It turned out surprisingly well, though, for the most part. Must be nice for you though, not having an alternate identity—not that being dead is nice or anything like that—I mean, it's not a bad thing—or it is a bad thing? I uh... yeah, I don't know what I'm saying."

After taking a moment to parse that rambling sentence, Danny burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Is that why you're acting so uncomfortable around me? Because I'm dead? Ha! You don't have to worry about that. You're fine."

"Serious?"

"Dead serious," Danny replied with a smirk.

Ben shook his head with a soft laugh. "Alright, fine.... Actually, that's not the only reason. Back when I was ten and just starting out I had... a bad experience with a ghost-like alien of mine. Ever since, ghost stuff just puts me a little on edge."

"Oh... I see. Well, don't worry, I won't take it personally," Danny said. "Did you really start doing this when you were ten?"

"Yeah. Although I kinda retired for a few years when I was eleven, and started up again when I was fifteen."

Danny did some quick math in his head. "Oh, so altogether, you and me have been in this for about the same amount of time. 'Cause I got started a little over two years ago."

"Yeah?" Ben was silent for a few moments. He pulled out boxed figurines of his alien forms and lined them up on the shelf Rook had assembled. "So... when did you...."

"Die?" Danny finished for him. "I was fourteen. I'm almost seventeen now. In about three months, I mean."

"Do you still age?"

"Sort of?" Danny shrugged.

He and Jazz had come up with an answer to this question a little while ago, when people noticed that Danny Phantom was starting to look older, even though ghosts supposedly didn't age.

"A ghost's body is a reflection of their mental image of themself. In the Zone, ghosts don't really age or change unless something specific happens that makes them feel older or different. Because I spend so much time in the human world still, because I learn and grow with each fight, I still feel like I'm growing up, so I look like I'm growing up, too."

"That is fascinating," Rook said. "I would love to learn more about ghostly biology."

"I would love to tell you about it. Problem is, I really don't know that much," Danny told him apologetically. He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm a superhero, not a scientist."

"I'm here!" Sam called, her heavy combat boots tromping into the room. She was carrying a large cardboard box. "I would have been here sooner, but I had to put together a design for the banner. Luckily I found a printer that could make one for you on short notice like this, or you'd be screwed."

"You're a life saver!"

"You wish," she scoffed. "I got you a banner and three hundred head shots."

"That's not gonna be enough," Ben said immediately.

"Ya think?" Sam asked.

"Trust me."

She sighed heavily in annoyance. "Okay, I can go back and get some more, but you so owe me, Danny."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, taking the box from Sam. "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, taking one of the head shots off the top of the stack and leaving again.

"Is that your friend?" Ben asked.

"One of them," Danny confirmed, setting the box down on the table. "That's Sam. She and Tucker have been with me since the beginning. He's probably still asleep at the hotel."

He pulled out a stack of head shots for the table and slid the box with the rest underneath. She'd picked a good picture. It was a poster illustration for a local ghost awareness presentation he'd done a while back, and he nearly sighed with relief when he saw it. He'd been half afraid she'd pick one of the grainy newspaper photos of him in his underwear.

"That's cool," Ben said. "Yeah, I don't think anyone could do this job without allies. When I first started, I had my Grandpa and my cousin, then my cousin and my best friend, and now I have Rook as my partner."

"We have been together for a year," Rook added.

"Like... together together or...?"

"Working partners," Ben clarified insistently. "It's not like that."

"Oh, okay, my bad."

Hoping to alleviate his embarrassment, Danny unfurled his new banner and flew up to hang it on the wall behind his booth. It looked cool, but not too complicated. Just his name and logo and a little bit of ghost designs around the edges. Sam had done a good job with it.

"You are not the first to think that," Rook consoled. "It is a more common assumption than one might think."

They continued chatting idly while they set up their booths. Danny got to ask Rook what kind of alien he was, and what his home planet was like. Sam showed up with a whole bunch more photos and then immediately abandoned them to get a sneak preview of artist alley before she came back as an attendee.

Just before the convention center officially opened, Danny worked up the courage to ask Ben for an autograph, and Ben obliged him with a smile, offering an exchange, rather than asking for payment. Danny eagerly accepted, signing one of his own pictures and trading it for Ben's. Ben's looked far more professional than his own. He hoped people wouldn't be disappointed.

As people started trickling in past the security checkpoint up front, both heroes only got a few people in the beginning. After only about twenty minutes of boredom, Ben suggested they play a game.

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What game?"

"My buddy Kevin calls it Reverse-Never-Have-I-Ever, and my cousin calls it Have-You-Ever." Ben said. "See, we could never play regular Never-Have-I-Ever, because we all knew all the weird stuff we'd done and we'd target each other mercilessly. With this version, You say something you have done, and anyone who hasn't done it loses a point. If everyone's done it, no one loses a point."

"Okay... I think I get the idea, but why don't you start? Five fingers or ten?"

"Let's start with five," Ben said. "Rook, you playing?"

"I will pass," Rook said. "I always lose this game."

"Alright, if that's what you want." Ben shrugged. "Alright, Danny, have you ever... transformed into a different species?"

"Yes."

"You have?!"

"Uh, yeah. I went from human to ghost. Duh."

"Oh... right, duh," Ben agreed, shaking his head at how foolish he'd been to blow his first question like that. "Wow, I can't believe I didn't even think about that...."

"My turn, right?" Danny said. "Have you ever fought an evil alternate version of yourself?"

"Yeah, like six of 'em."

"Okay, well, now you're just showing off."

Ben smirked. "Oh, I never get to use this one on my friends. Have you ever been to space?"

Danny smirked right back. "One of my rogues possessed an orbital satellite."

"Damn it!"

Someone walked over to Danny's table and he smiled at her, pointedly ignored the way she shivered when he shook her hand, and signed a photo for her.

"Okay," he said, shifting his attention back to the game, "have you ever... been cut in two."

"I regenerated, but yeah."

"How?" Danny demanded.

"Plant alien."

"I should've guessed. Stupid plant creatures with their stupid regenerative powers. Undergrowth-ass alien. Lame."

Ben laughed at him while he signed a figurine for a fan who came to his table. "How about this. Have you ever fought a medieval-style knight?"

"A knight? Hold on." Danny considered that for a moment. Had he? He'd rescued Sam from Dora's realm that one time, and yeah, he'd definitely had to fight the ghosts of knights then. Oh! Also Fright Knight. How could he forget about him. "Yes, I have definitely fought knights on several occasions. Ghost knights, obviously."

"Ugh! I really thought I had you with that one. Why do ghosts who died a thousand years ago have to stick around for so long?"

"Nope!" Danny teased. "Okay, how about this one. Have you ever fought a ghost?"

"Define ghost?" Ben asked.

"The law defines a ghost as any creature which produces ectoplasm, is composed of ectoplasm, or requires ectoplasm to survive," Danny recited.

There was no need to say which law—that would be the anti-ecto acts. It was stupid that those stupid acts were still even law when public support of ghosts had never been higher. Although, they hadn't been as heavily enforced the last year or so, since the G.I.W. lost a lot of funding after repeatedly failing to catch their most wanted, Danny.

"Then yes, I have," Ben said. "Have you ever fought an alien?"

"Define alien."

"A creature originating from a planet or plane other than Earth."

"Then yes, ghosts."

"Ah ah ah!" Ben argued. "Ghosts are the spirits of dead humans, which means they originate on Earth."

"Except that not all ghosts are the spirits of dead humans," Danny countered right back. "Many ghosts originally formed inside the Ghost Zone, which makes them, by your definition, aliens, and I have fought them, too. Also I fought off some Incurseans back when they invaded the Earth a little while back. It was awesome."

Ben groaned.

"Haha! Gotcha!"

"Just go already."

"Have you ever died?"

"Ha! Yes, I have," Ben said, as if dying was some huge victory. "You probably thought you had me, but you were wrong. I may have been brought back through alien magic and/or time travel, but yes, I have died. Speaking of which, have you ever time-traveled."

"Psh, have I time traveled?" Danny scoffed. "I have literally met the Ancient, omniscient Master of Time. He's a huge pain in the neck."

It was at this point that more people started accumulating at the two heroes' tables. Some got in line for autographs, though both Ben and Danny were too engrossed in their game at this point to give their full attention. Others just stood, watching, and listening to the two of them. A few even started filming their little game.

"Alright, my turn," Danny said. "Have you ever... oh, I have a good one! Have you ever had to fight your best friend after he copied your powers which then caused him to lose his mind and become evil?"

"Literally how?!" Ben shouted.

"Is that a no?"

"No, I meant 'literally how' as in how has something that specific happened to both of us?"

"No way!"

"Yes way! That's happened to Kevin more than once."

"What?!"

"I know, right?"

"It is also strange for this game to go so long without any of the participants losing a point," Rook said. "I believe it is at this point that I would have lost, had I been participating."

"You put up a good fight, Rook," Ben joked.

"But... I was not playing?"

"I was teasing, Rook."

"Ah, yes."

"Whose turn is it now?" Ben asked. "Mine, right?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed.

"Have you ever had a limb severed?"

"Yes, but I'm a ghost, so I reattached it pretty easily. Have you ever altered the fabric of reality?"

"I once had to recreate the entire universe after it got destroyed, and then went on intergalactic trial for doing it. And the worst part is, ever since then, grape smoothies just don't taste the same. It's so frustrating. I did get this super comfortable hoodie out of it, though."

"Ew, smoothies?" Danny grimaced. "What are you a yoga mom?"

Ben stood up, slamming a hand on his table and with the other, he pointed accusingly at Danny. "Smoothies are delicious, screw you!"

"You're just frustrated because I'm winning."

"You're not winning, neither of us have lost a single point! But you will!" Ben declared. "Have you ever saved the whole entire universe."

"Yes."

"What?" Ben fell back into his chair, deflated.

"A while back, this one group, the G.I.W. tried to destroy the Ghost Zone with a special anti-ghost nuke, and I stopped them. The Ghost Zone is the flip side of our dimension, so if it had been destroyed, it would have taken our universe along with it. Hence, I saved the universe. I just didn't let it get all over international news first."

"Boo!"

"Isn't that my line?" Danny said.

Ben threw a sharpie at him and he turned intangible and let it pass right through him while he laughed at his own joke.

"Anyway, have you ever visited an alternate timeline where the entire earth is barren and desolate and the alternate version of you rules supreme?"

"Yes, I call it the Mad Universe, because it looked like Mad Max, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can see it. But really? You have?"

"Yup. The alternate version of Rook was a jerk."

Rook frowned but didn't have the chance to say anything before Ben kept talking.

"Have you ever... I don't know... every time I go weirder, you just match me. Have you ever had a family member be friends with one of you enemies?"

"Yeah, my dad considers my archenemy his best friend in the world," Danny said. "The feeling is not mutual, though. Have you ever been imprisoned by one of your enemies?"

"More times than I can count. Have you ever asexually reproduced?"

"Do clones count?"

"No!" Ben refused.

"Yes," Rook argued, possibly still upset about Ben's jerk comment. "Technically, cloning is a form of asexual reproduction."

"But could they fly?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to asexual reproduction, but yes," Danny said. "They were ghosts. They could fly. Most of them were too unstable to survive though. There's only one left." He frowned.

"Oh... sorry."

"It's... fine." It wasn't fine. He still found himself lying awake at night thinking about them sometimes. Danny shook his head and plastered on a determined grin. "I really think I've got you this time, though."

"Do you?" Ben did not sound convinced.

"Have you ever had to fight sentient food that was not still alive?"

"Y—wait...." Ben frowned as he thought about it for a long moment. "No... I haven't."

"Yes!" Danny cheered and Ben buried his head in his hands, humiliated. "This puts me in the lead."

"Not for long," Ben said. "Have you ever eaten food from another planet?"

"Wha—noooo...."

"Ha!"

"We're dead even again."

Their game continued.

"Have you ever fought a cult's subject of worship?"

"Have you ever had a Christmas-themed battle?"

"Have you ever fought on the same side as one of your enemies?"

"Have you ever been called upon to end a war?"

"Have you ever unexpectedly developed a new power that caused you trouble?"

"Have you ever used your powers to get out of other responsibilities?"

"Have you ever had to skip out on something you were really looking forward to and save the day?"

"Have you ever been blamed for property damage your enemies caused just because you happened to be there at the time?"

"Have you ever been mind controlled?"

"Have you ever fought an evil circus?"

The game kept going on and on, while they absently shook hands and signed autographs, with neither of them giving up another point. Until Sally showed up to tell them it was time to go to the teen hero panel they were on.

It was only then that they looked up and saw all the cameras that had been recording their game. How long had they been recording? How much had they gotten?

"Uh... right," Ben said. "Sorry everyone. You can come back for autographs after the panel. And Danny, I think we're gonna have to call it a draw."

"We'll have to have a rematch some other time," Danny said, trying to keep his tone light, despite his sudden anxiety.

Sally led the two of them to a large room with rows upon rows of empty seats, right down the aisle to the stage up front where a man in his thirties was already standing, and a masked teenage girl with glowing pink hair and eyes was sitting behind the table.

"Hello, I'm John and I'll be moderating this panel," the man introduced. "This is Lucky Girl, another teen hero we invited. Lucky Girl, this is Ben 10 and Danny Phantom."

"Nice to meet you," Danny said.

"I can't believe they roped you into this," Ben said, smiling at the girl like he knew her.

"Shut up," the girl barked back. "We can't all gain international fame overnight, and I have to pay for student housing."

"You two already know each other?" John asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, we've known each other for a long time," Ben said. "All our lives, in fact."

"Ben, I swear if you give me away I will hex you so bad your children's children's children will travel for miles just to spit on your grave."

Ben put up his hands in surrender, and took his seat without another word. Danny followed his lead. This Lucky Girl didn't seem like the kind of person he wanted to mess with.

Once they were all in their seats, John gave them a quick run down of how the panel would go. He would ask a few questions. They would answer. He would open it up to questions from the audience, and they would answer those too. After an hour, the panel would be over, and they would return to their booths, or in Lucky Girl's case, simply leave, as she apparently didn't have a booth.

"She uses her powers to disguise herself, but she can't keep that up for more than an hour and a half," Ben whispered to Danny, clearly sensing his confusion. "She'll probably hang around for a little while after to greet fans, but she'll have to leave when her mana's drained."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Danny whispered back, nodding. "I was worried it might be like a sexism thing."

"As if she'd stand for something like that," Ben scoffed.

Soon enough, the doors opened, and people started trickling in. The seats filled up with mostly teens and young adults, with a few parents and older adults sprinkled in. Danny noticed Sam and Tucker come in and sit in the back row and waved at them. Rook was also sitting in the back row, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although, it seemed like most people thought he was a cosplayer, so he didn't really have to bother hiding.

When the doors closed, John started the panel.

The first part was easy.

John asked questions like: "How do you balance being a hero with the other responsibilities you have as an adolescent?"

"Honestly, not well. You know how people say 'you can sleep when you're dead'? Yeah, that's a lie."

"I'm lucky enough to have a good memory so I don't have to study much, otherwise my grades in school would tank. For me, the real struggle is finding time to do chores."

"I prioritize my other responsibilities. I don't usually face world-ending, city-destroying threats like these two, which allows me the luxury of saving hero work for after my homework is finished."

And: "Where do you go when you want to de-stress after saving the day?"

"I usually go over to my friends' and play video games. I feel safe around them."

"If the sun's still up, Mr. Smoothie. But if it's late, I like to go out for chili fries."

"The library. I know it makes me sound like a nerd, but whatever. I am a nerd. Who cares."

And: "How do your parents figure in to you heroic activities?"

"They... don't know. They don't exactly have a great opinion of ghosts, and they don't recognize me when... I mean, they don't recognize me anymore. So I guess they don't figure in." That wasn't entirely true, but Danny wasn't about to say they shot at him in front of a crowd of hundreds of people.

"My parents are actually very supportive. At first, they wanted me to quit, because they were worried about my safety, but I changed their minds. They raised me to know right from wrong, and to help others whenever I can, and they're proud of me."

"My parents don't know either, and I don't live with them right now because I live on my school campus, so I guess, like Phantom, my parents don't really figure in either."

They were easy questions to answer, even if Danny didn't always tell the whole truth. John kept things light, focusing mostly on them being teenagers, and how being a hero affected that aspect of their life, rather than the other way around. There were a couple questions about battles and enemies, but for the most part, they avoided the heavy stuff.

Then, about halfway into the panel, John opened it up to the audience to ask questions.

They didn't shy away from the heavy stuff.

"Hi, I'm Mandy, big fan," said a girl with curly brown hair. "I have two questions for Ben, first is, are you dating anyone?"

Ben chuckled, trying to sound amused, even though, up close, Danny could tell the question made him uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dating right now."

The girl giggled for a moment before asking her next question. "My next question is: when you're fighting an alien invasion basically by yourself, do you ever feel afraid?"

Ben didn't answer right away. He took a breath, and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I know I'm strong, and there's a lot that I can do and have done, but when I'm outnumbered a thousand to one, yeah, I'm a little afraid."

"Not that you were ever actually by yourself," Lucky Girl pointed out.

"Heh," Ben rubbed his neck awkwardly. "That's true. Even if there weren't many, I've always had people in my corner."

The next person who stepped up was a guy in a Danny Phantom T-shirt which read 'it's not gay if he's dead.'

Danny immediately groaned and Ben grinned hugely. "Before you ask your question, I have a question for you. Where did you get that shirt?"

"I got it at a souvenir shop when I went to Amity Park, but I think you can buy them online, too," they guy said.

"I'm getting one."

Danny groaned even more insistently.

"My question is for Phantom. If you hadn't died, do you think you still would have become a hero, and protected your home from ghosts?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Danny admitted. "Amity Park does have other ghost hunters, the Fentons and Red Huntress, for example. If I hadn't d... if I didn't have my powers, I wouldn't really have the ability to protect anybody. I'd probably leave it to the ghost hunters who were better equipped."

"And for Lucky Girl, are you single?"

"Ha ha no," she said flatly. "I have a boyfriend."

"Figures."

Next up was a girl in some pretty fantastic Lucky Girl cosplay. Her wig even lit up. Although she looked like she was quite a bit taller than the real thing.

"Lucky Girl, do your periods ever interfere with fighting crime?"

"Uh... that's a bit personal," Lucky Girl said instantly, as if the answer was instinctive.

But when she saw the way the girl reacted like she'd been slapped, hunching in on herself with shame, Lucky Girl bit her lip and answered anyway.

"Actually... the life of a superhero is really stressful. The kind of stress that has... biological effects. When I first started fighting crime as, like, a regular thing, I didn't have a period for months. When I finally did again it was... you know what, I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it was really bad. Like, my doctor prescribed me pills to stop me from menstruating bad. So... I guess the answer to your question is 'not anymore' and also sorry for the TMI." She finished with a short grimace.

"Thank you for answering," the girl said before going to sit back down.

Ben covered his mic and turned to her. "How come I never knew about that?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucky Girl muttered back. "Like I'm gonna discuss my cycle with a fifteen-year-old boy."

Ben didn't even attempt to argue with that.

As... much as those questions were, it was the next one that really stopped everything in its tracks.

"Hi, I'm Michael. I don't know if you know about this video that's going around. It was only posted, like, less than an hour ago, but it's really blown up in fan circles already," the young man said. "The video shows Phantom and Ben 10... I guess playing a game or something? Where you guys are asking each other if you'd done certain things and basically comparing experiences with each other? Do you know it?"

Ben and Danny shot each other anxious looks.

"Uh... I haven't seen it, but I think we know what you're talking about," Ben answered cautiously. "Is that your question?"

"No, my question is... well, in the video you guys are talking about alternate timelines, and fighting evil versions of yourselves, and getting mind-controlled, and changing reality. I guess my question is. Did all that stuff really happen to you guys?"

Neither Ben nor Danny wanted to answer. They didn't look at each other, or the crowd. They deeply regretted playing a game that revealed such personal secrets in a public space.

Finally, Ben cleared his throat. "Yes, all that happened." Danny nodded his own confirmation. "The life we lead is a dangerous one, and it demands sacrifices, and it takes a lot from you, and it puts you in a lot of strange situations that few others can understand. It's... not for everyone."

The next fan stepped up to the mic. "Follow up questions. First, how are you guys like... functional? Because I mean, if I'd gone through the kind of stuff you were talking about in that video, I think I'd have a mental breakdown. Second, why would you put yourselves through all that?"

"Well, first off, bold of you to assume I've never had a mental breakdown," Danny said. "And secondly, if we don't do it, who will?" he asked. "We're not just random ordinary high schoolers who up and decided to subject ourselves to unspeakable trauma just for the fun of it.

"We do this because we have the power to do things others can't, to fight enemies other people can't fight. We do this because if we don't... if we don't, people die. Or worse. People experience the kind of things we do trying to protect them. So I guess the answer to both of your questions is, what other choice do we have?"

"Yeah, exactly what Danny said," Ben agreed. "I tried to give up my powers, and my responsibilities once, and people got hurt because of it. My grandpa.... Because I wanted to live a normal life, to take it easy, there was no one else to protect them. It is every individual's responsibility to do what they can to help others. It just so happens that we can do more than most, and that comes with drawbacks.

"Lucky Girl, care to weigh in? You weren't in the video, but I know you've had your share of superhero related trauma."

"I think you guys pretty much covered it," she replied. "I don't think I've been through quite as much as you two, but I definitely know about the sacrifices we make for this life. I also know that it's worth it to know that the people and places you love are safe and protected because of you."

The boy's both nodded in agreement.

The questions didn't really lighten up after that. "What's the worst experience you've ever had as a hero?" "Have you ever failed to protect someone?" "We heard Ben 10 say so already, but have you ever wanted to quit, or wished you never had powers in the first place?"

After a point, John noticed how uncomfortable they were getting and had to step in and ask that the next few questions not be so dark.

A younger girl, maybe even a middle schooler, hand mercy on them at last, and asked, "What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you while you were saving the day?" and from there the questions finally eased up.

It felt like it had been far longer than an hour when the session ended, and they left the stage and returned to their booths to sign autographs and shake hands and listen to dozens of people gushing, "I'm you're biggest fan!"

They didn't pick up their game again, even when things got slow. Evidently they'd learned their lesson. And they kept learning it as more and more of the people who came to visit them asked about that video. Each time Danny had to smile and laugh it off, the regret deepened.

It had been a while since he felt like such a complete idiot. Since he'd done something so thoughtless. He'd gotten a lot better at keeping secrets over the years, but he'd just been so excited to talk with someone he had so much in common with—and yeah, he'd probably gotten a little too competitive also. He should have known better.

"So uh... I was at your panel earlier," said a girl who placed a science magazine on the table for him to sign. The cover touted an article about 10 Things You Didn't Know About Ghosts (they have their own culture!). Danny remembered doing that interview.

"That's nice, thanks for coming," Danny said, his smile tensing. "Do you want me to sign the cover, or the page with the article."

"The cover please," the girl said. "For Marnie. And um... I was too nervous to stand up and ask before, but... I was really curious."

"Oh?" Danny asked, keeping his eyes on his hand as he signed the cover 'To Marnie, stay spooky'.

"Why would you make it a game?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better to try to forget all those things?"

"Easier said than done," Danny said. "Things like that stay with you. Turning them into a joke or a game takes the power away from those bad memories. When you're laughing at your fears, what can they do to you? That's the way I see it. Ben might have another reason, and technically, it was his game. He came up with it."

"So... what you're saying is, laughter is the best medicine?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Danny agreed. He slid the magazine back to her. "Thanks for coming by."

Finally, Danny's shift was over, and Ben's ended at the same time. Just in time, too, because Danny was just about out of photos. He'd have to get more for tomorrow. He signed his last picture with a sigh of relief, thankful that the convention staff had come by to cut off the line when it was about time for him to be finished.

"You finished too, Danny?" Ben asked.

"Yup."

"You wanna go get lunch with us? Wait... do ghosts eat?"

"We do, but I was gonna meet up with my friends for lunch today, and then explore the convention a little." Danny said. "Are you gonna be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm here for the whole con," Ben said. "Here, let me give you my number. We should keep in touch."

"Totally!" Danny agreed. "It'll be nice to have an actual superhero friend. I love Sam and Tucker, but there are some things...."

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

After swapping numbers the two of them headed off to their separate engagements. Danny transformed and got to experience what else Hero Con had to offer without getting swarmed by fans like he saw happening to Ben that afternoon.

They met up again the next day. Chatted at their booths, had lunch together, checked out the fan artists, just hung out for a while. This time around, Danny didn't have his human form to protect him from the crowds.

That video of their game haunted them both for the rest of the convention. People kept bringing it up until it became almost more annoying than mortifying.

When Hero Con finally ended, they both breathed sighs of relief. The convention was over, but Ben and Danny kept in touch. They never did have that rematch though. In fact, they were both pretty much done with 'Have-You-Ever'.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #ben 10 #ben tennyson #gwen tennyson #fic #things i wrote #crossover danuary week #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover #party games #past trauma #humor #dp x ben 10 #dp crossover #dialogue heavy

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monocrom3r · 2 years ago

Text

⏵supernova⏴

⏵chapter one — new world⏴

⏵genre: superpower au, an action adventure thriller with a mystery to solve ⏵word count: ~2k ⏵rating: T-M ⏵warnings: minor language, things that go bump in the night, second person pov is a private investigator ⏵summary: You've wandered in and out of a dozen cities in your time as a P.I., and the people are always the same: childish, selfish, predictable. But Nova City is different — something has been warped, broken, and before too long you find yourself in the crossfire between the mysterious Operation Hourglass and the ruthless Guerrillas. When push comes to cataclysmic shove, what good can one gumshoe do against forces of nature with a serious grudge match to settle? You're not too sure — but you're sure as hell gonna find out.

⏵author's note: hello! monocromer here (mc or chrome if you like), and welcome to the first chapter of supernova! I got a bug in my ear about an ateez superhero/villain au, and even though I've got other writing I should be working on, this concept would not rest until I started getting it down on paper in earnest. this series should float somewhere in the T-M range ratingwise, with the sort of violence one might expect from a heavier marvel movie or a lighter episode of invincible; as for intimate content, if we float towards 'minors dni' territory, then you'll get a strongly worded warning at the head of the relevant chapter(s). thanks so much for checking out my work; I'm looking forward to sharing this with you over the coming weeks!

⏵author's note pt. II: if the last little chunk of this looks funky or like it's missing words, the mobile version appears to be eating some sentences! read on desktop for best experience (unfortunately!)

________

This story will test you.

It will pose some difficult questions and then challenge your initial response. It will entice you to think about clichéd, long belabored words like hero and villain, justice and vengeance, good and evil. And at the end of it all, it will see if you are ready to bring action to answer.

So, are you ready?

Begin. ________

The city unfolds before you, a concrete labyrinth tangled with rusty scaffolding and neon signs, headlights and streetlights reflected in ankle deep puddles that haven't seen rain in days, and yet never seem to dry up.

The shutter of your camera snaps another shot as you shift your weight, leaning across the center console of the tiny red coupe that’s seen you through half a dozen cities like this one, angling for a better view of the motel window down the street.

Another day, another infidelity. Just when you think Nova City might have something better to offer you, another case brings yet another disappointment. But it's good, honest work.

You watch as your target rips open his shirt, revealing a jungle of chest hair. Something glints back at you.

"Ah. That'll be the piercing," you mutter, zooming in and taking another half dozen shots before lowering your camera. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. The man dives out of frame, and you can faintly hear a squeal of delight from the co-pilot of his rendezvous.

...well, it's work.

You turn the key in the ignition, smacking the dashboard with your palm a few times before the engine finally roars to life. Even without a map, you know every twist and turn of this part of town, driving down alleyways littered with street food vendors and nightclub flyers.

Parking around the corner, by the meter you know has been busted for months, you cut down an alley to the back entrance to the printer's place. Fortunately, the guy you use for your glossy 8x10s works late, at least for you.

Unfortunately, he’s also a bit… eccentric.

"Hey, Sherbert, open up," you call, pounding on the door.

After a few moments, the door opens a crack. A furrowed brow peers out from under a tangle of red hair, and you can just make out a black silk robe and a pair of... bunny slippers?

"Detective." Sherbert opens the door a hair wider, scratching the greying beard threatening to overtake his features. "You're out late."

You hold up the memory card, and he plucks it from your grip.

"You can pick 'em up tomorrow mornin'," he grunts, "I've got company."

"Oh," you muse with a smile, "Company?"

His jaw tightens, a faint squeaking sound as his teeth grind ever so slightly together. Sherbert would prefer you not even know he has a blood type, let alone a —

"Well,” he huffs, “It ain't my parcheesi club."

The laugh is no sooner out of your mouth than the door slams shut, locking behind him.

"I'll be back at nine," you call through the door, "Sharp!"

You lean back against the door, stretching out the cramp in your neck that inevitably results from too many hours spent contorted in the driver's seat.

Across the street, a neon OPEN sign with a steaming mug lures your attention, and you cross, weaving your way through passing cars. There are a handful of patrons in line as you make your way inside, stepping carefully over a laptop cable here and a backpack there. Must be finals season for the college students...and here you could have sworn it was just the holidays, just yesterday...

You shake your head, fighting back a yawn as the man in front of you steps away towards a table. The barista behind the counter looks up, but doesn't speak. He nods in your direction as you approach, twirling a permanent marker in his fingers.

"Evening," you say, looking over the menu on the wall. "Anything you recommend?"

"Coffee," he replies, voice low and quiet. "Or tea."

You wait awkwardly for him to get just a little more specific, but he stares blankly back at you, brows set in a straight, neutral line.

"Well, sure, yeah." You glance down at your watch. Probably too late for caffeine, but that's never stopped you before. "Americano, then, please."

"Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

He reaches for a paper cup, ticking boxes on the side, then turns away without another word, working the espresso machine. You pay with a swipe of your card, then loiter near the register, rolling your shoulders to the tune of several satisfying pops and cracks. The barista returns with the cup, hand already on the low gate that separates customer from cashier, and stops short.

"You can sit." He clears his throat, as if that were too many words for him to get out in one go. "Could have. I would have brought it to you."

"Been cooped up in a car all day," you explain. "Stretching my legs before I head home, little nighttime walk, that kinda thing.

His expression doesn't change. "Ah."

You stretch out your hand, and after a beat he hands you the cup.

"Thanks."

You turn for the door, and are surprised to feel a sudden grip on your arm. You turn back to look at the barista, his eyes suddenly wide and awake, glimmering in the fluorescent light. For a moment, you find yourself breathless as he holds you tightly from across the counter.

"Don't walk too far," he says, voice stronger and clearer, but still quiet, interwoven with the din of the coffee shop, "Strange things happening out there at night these days."

"Strange?" You haven't heard anything in the news, and you tilt your head, questioning, "What kind of things?"

"The bad kind." He releases your arm, brushing his hands on his apron, smoothly resetting back to the way you'd found him: a blank expression, twirling his marker in hand.

"Right. Well... have a good night, then."

He nods once in your direction, then turns back to the espresso machine, busying himself with cleaning.

A deep breath fills your lungs with crisp, cool air as you stroll through the night, the chill of spring not yet yielding to the warmth of summer. You take the last few sips of your drink — the coffee's good, not too bitter, and you sigh contentedly as you toss the empty cup into a bin and glance at your watch. If you hurry, you can get home in time for a long bath before a good night's sleep. A shortcut behind the chicken place would get you to your car ten minutes faster, and that's all the incentive you need.

Sure, it requires hopping a fence or two, but you didn't become a private eye for nothing. Even as a teenager, a locked door was more an invitation than a deterrent, and you would have gotten away with the perfect grades you hacked into the system if an overzealous TA hadn't ratted you out.

You huff, remembering. Never could stand a hero complex. You wedge the toe of your boot into the fencing and begin to climb, leaping over the top and landing with a splash in the alleyway. It's not enough to put you off, but you do grimace, wriggling your ankle in an attempt to leave some of the grease and grime in the gutter.

"All this water..." you mutter, glancing around, and something curious meets your gaze.

The manhole cover in the center of the alley, practically spotlighted by a flickering bulb somewhere overhead, is crooked.

You draw closer with slow, even steps. Very crooked, like there's something wedged in there. Even as you watch, some kind of liquid is pouring out, oozing towards you. You pull out your phone, following with your flashlight, and freeze.

Not liquid. Bodies, forms, small shapes moving, creeping, slithering out of the manhole... one skitters over your shoe, and you resist the urge to shake it off.

Rats. Dozens of them, clambering out of the gap in the manhole that leads down to the sewers below. It's unsettling, but it's not the worst part.

They're entirely silent. You've never seen anything wild be this quiet, certainly not in the city. Your mind clouds, and you force yourself to breathe, slow and even.

Something's wrong here.

As if to reward your intuition (or perhaps punish it), the manhole cover suddenly shakes violently.

Run, something inside you says, but your body won't move. You twitch a finger towards the pistol hidden beneath your jacket, but it's as far as you can manage until the metal disc finally bursts off the gap and lands with a clatter on the asphalt a few feet from you.

"Why you hesitating?" a voice calls, words low and long and deep, like something ancient and abyssal, some creature from the depths that can't, shouldn't, mustn't see the light of day...

Run. Your lips are moving, making the word, but no sound comes out. Not until two limbs emerge from the manhole, long and sinewy, cloaked in some dark fabric that's dripping with sewer water, heaving the rest of its body up from below.

A breath hitched in your chest exhales into a sharp gasp, a rattled sound that has you digging your nails into the heels of your palms, heart pounding. The way it moves, the way it sounds as it sucks in a tsk through its teeth...

"Why you waiting?"

It's when you see the face emerge, all but hidden in shadow, teeth glinting in a wide smile in the dim light, that you finally run.

You just have to get past it. You can see your car, there, at the end of the alley. It's not even out of the manhole, yet, it can't catch you, it can't be fast enough. You sprint towards the fence, closing the distance in long strides, boots splattering the asphalt as your hands reach out for the fencing…

And cry out, searing pain lancing through your leg as a crack like a thunderbolt rips through the alleyway, and something sharp wraps around your ankle.

You don't have to look over your shoulder to know the source. It tugs sharply, suddenly, and your boot skids across the asphalt as you grab at the fencing, digging your fingers into the wire desperately, scrambling as your fingers begin to scrape, scratch, bleed —

And just when you feel your ankle yank backwards again and begin to pull your fingers from their grip, the tether goes slack. The alleyway grows quiet, leaving only your ragged breathing and the faint drip of water. After a few moments you turn, grip still tight on the fence...

The thing, whatever it was, is gone. There's something wrapped around your ankle, yes, a leather cord the thickness of a power cable, but its end is connected to... nothing. You take a few tentative steps into the alley. You're alone, now, thrusting the only evidence that anything ever had you at death's door into the pocket of your coat — and feel it resist. Your breath catches, and you tug at the end in your hands, following it, kneeling down as you find the end...

Not the only evidence, it seems. Buried an inch into the concrete with the end of the cord speared on its tip, is an arrow. You wrap your hand around it and tug, but it doesn't budge. Setting your teeth, you pull harder, and manage to free it, the aluminum shaft flexing rather than break.

You look around, then up. The alleyway is as quiet as before, as quiet as it should have been.

Unwilling to tempt fate further, you make short work of the fence, ankle nearly buckling as you find the sidewalk again and make your way over to the coupe, arrow tucked under your arm, fingers working the cord in your pocket.

There's a soft hissing sound as you approach, and you stop cold, holding your breath... before your eyes widen in recognition.

In the (now flat) tire of your car, a mere few feet away from the fence that nearly trapped you to your death, is another goddamn arrow.

________

Like I said — this story will test you. It will ask you if you've always made the right decision, when faced with the choice between dooming someone to their punishment or extending a hand to save.

Because someone does need saving here, Detective.

And it's not you. ___________