#look i've had this stupid pun stuck in my head for two weeks

[khywren]

Happy Fangs-giving! 🦇

[lexosaurus]

Keep Your Enemies Closer

A little Tech Hunter AU oneshot I wrote for DP Angstfest 2023! I based this off of @kinglazrus' AU fic for the @dpauzine in which Tucker is the Red Hunter. It's been stuck in my brain ever since, so I couldn't resist writing her AU for this event!

[ao3]

****

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

That's what people always said, anyway. It's what actors spouted in Hollywood blockbusters as their characters sipped their old fashioned in the dimly lit bar. It's what people typed in their chat logs online, thinking of themselves as high and mighty, very cool, not to be messed with, while they cracked open their fifth serving-sized bag of Doritos that day.

But this wasn't a Hollywood blockbuster. It wasn't Tucker talking up himself to random usernames online.

As he looked at Danny, who was animatedly chatting to Sam about some recently released video game that Tucker couldn’t pretend to care about anymore, he knew that this wasn't just a cool verse. It was real, at least to him. 

“The final boss was way too easy,” Sam was saying. “It's like the devs weren't even trying.”

“I beat it in like five seconds flat,” Danny agreed.

“Yeah, because you exploited the armor glitch,” Sam said. “If you played the game like it was supposed to be played, the final boss would have taken at least a little longer.”

Danny tsked his tongue. “It’s not my fault that I’m obviously just one step ahead of the devs. And you, actually.”

“Come on,” Sam laughed, catching onto the mood. “Stop messing with me.”

Danny grinned back at her, his fangs poking out over his lips. “Samantha Manson, when have I ever messed with you?”

Tucker ducked his head before his face could show. Though, each day that passed seemed to allow that quiet mask to slip over his face far more easily than the day before. And he wasn't even talking about the little yellow mask that lived under his skin.

He remembered the day he'd pieced it all together. The day all the lies, all the little breadcrumb clues, suddenly snapped into place.

He'd been home, as usual, watching videos of the rapidly increasing ghost attacks targeting the city. And of course, at the epicenter of it all was Phantom.

Danny fucking Phantom.

He remembered Danny calling him, his face popping up on Tucker’s home screen, and Tucker pausing the video and holding up his phone to see the two faces side by side. The same smile, the same freckles, the same jaw and haircut and they were the same. 

He couldn’t believe it. But…it made sense. And maybe that was the worst part because it meant that his friend, his best friend, was dead. And worse, he’d turned into a monster. 

But when? When had he died? Was it that “accident” that he sometimes referenced? The day he’d gotten hurt by some of his parents’ equipment?

It didn’t matter. Because now, he was Phantom. But how was he Phantom? The ghost that Tucker loathed. The ghost that Tucker had long since blamed for turning their safe city into a fucking warzone.

How did his best friend turn into…that? Was death really so horrible that it completely changed a person? 

Or was this always inside Danny, deep down in the recess of his subconscious? So deep, so hidden, that Tucker had never noticed till now.

Some people saw Phantom as a hero, and he seemed to revel in it. His cockiness was overflowing, and he took great pride in arriving at every scene precisely when the new ghost of the week would show up. He'd throw a few puns, assure the crowd that, “Don't worry, citizens! I've got this!”, and then he'd beat the ghost up, suck them in his thermos, and would disappear until the next attack.

Phantom had fooled many of the masses. But despite what Dash's stupid nicknames would suggest, Tucker was no sucker. Even if everyone else had their heads up their ass, he didn't.

Tucker didn’t do anything at first. Maybe he’d just been in too deep of a denial. After all, who wanted to pin the destruction of their city on their fucking best friend? 

But then, he started paying attention. To Danny, the “human,” more. All his little quirks, his habits. The way he seemed to jump when Sam casually put a hand on his shoulder (he’d never used to do that), the way his teeth started to sharpen (humans don’t have fangs), the way his eyes would spark green sometimes (it wasn’t a trick of the light), or how he’d always disappear right before a ghost attack (almost like he knew they were coming).

But Tucker stayed silent. Because if Danny was Phantom, then Danny was dangerous. Who knew what Phantom would do if Tucker revealed that he knew? No, it was better to stay docile, not rock the boat, not put his life at risk. Just play it cool.

That plan only worked for so long.

The breaking point wasn’t an explosion of flashy lights so much as it was a seed, planted, but not yet even watered. It was Tucker booting up his virtual computer and opening Tor after school like any other day. 

The usual usernames were chatting in his group. People working on their various projects, coming to the chat room for tips or just talking about whatever other topic was on their mind. This was typical—welcome, even—after the confusing mess that had been Tucker’s every other waking moment as of late.

And then the conversation took a turn. 

To Phantom.

Sporksmith: I haven't wrapped my head around whether Phantom is a good guy or not. ChaseK: It's sus that as soon as the ghosts started showing up, so did he. Sporksmith: That's what I'm thinking, but the guy takes so many beatings a week. I feel like it's more likely that he's crawling out of the same dimensional holes that they are because the dude has family here or something. Mole: That's probably it. He uses modern slang, so it's pretty obvious he died recently.

This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Phantom. He was a fascinating subject and under much national scrutiny. But this time, Tucker finally stepped in.

GoldenFryer: You guys don't know what you're talking about. ChaseK: You know something then? GoldenFryer: Yeah, I have some inside info. Can't say much, but Phantom isn't who he seems. He's dangerous. Sporksmith: You sound like a guy who's got something up his sleeve.

He hadn't, at that point. But still, it needled his mind. He was closest to Phantom, wasn't he? Even if Danny himself didn't know. Of everyone, wasn't it Tucker’s responsibility to do something about this?

To set the soul of his dead best friend free?

GoldenFryer: Not yet, but maybe I should.

Of course, he couldn't do it by himself, but there was someone who could help. Someone with money, power, and a vocal hatred for ghostly invaders.

“Tucker Foley,” Vladimir Masters said, opening his door. His hair was pulled back in his signature ponytail, and he wore a gaudy green Packers bathrobe. “You’re awake early on a Saturday for a teenager. My, where's your other half?”

“No Danny today. Just me,” he said, keeping his tone casual despite the sudden anxiety spike in his gut.

Vlad grinned and stepped aside, sweeping his arm over the now open doorway. “Excellent, why don't you come in?”

Tucker followed the gesture and stepped through the door, trying to ignore the guilt that was clawing at him. Danny always talked about how much he hated Vlad, and how creepy the guy was. And while Tucker agreed that Vlad was more than a little slimy, Vlad was a businessman, and more importantly, a billionaire. Being slimy kinda came with the territory.

And besides, Vlad had only moved into the town a year ago, after Danny had already turned into Phantom. So, it wasn't Danny who hated Vlad, not really.

“Come, make yourself comfortable. You're a bit too young for me to offer you a drink, but maybe some water, perhaps?”

“I'm fine,” Tucker said. His voice echoed around the empty house.

“Then sit.” Vlad pulled out a seat at the bar. “I just brewed myself a pot of tea. Maybe you'd care for some of that?”

“No thanks,” Tucker said, his voice jilted as he forcefully remembered his manners. Even if it was Phantom who hated Vlad, Tucker wasn't too keen on being behind closed doors with the man any longer than necessary either. 

Vlad paid him no mind, of course, and poured his tea into a fancy china cup. He brought the cup up to his nose, sniffed, and then smiled, setting it down on a small plate on the counter and settling into a seat for himself. “So,” he started, clasping his hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you on this fine day?”

Tucker blew a breath out, trying to expel the mounting anxiety in his system. “Okay, I realize what I'm about to say sounds absolutely insane. I get that, but I just need you to let me explain.”

That slimy smirk was back on Vlad's lips. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Okay.” Tucker wrung his hands in his lap. “Okay, just—just hear me out. Trust me, nobody wants to say this less than me.”

“But of course, my dear boy.”

Tucker exhaled one last time and then began. “So, I know who Phantom is. You know, the ghost? I—he's disguising himself as a teenager, and I know who it is.”

“Oh, really? My, that doesn't sound good.”

“It's not.” Tucker closed his eyes, covering his forehead with his hand. “It's the worst, really. Because the person that Phantom is pretending to be—and I know, I know, just let me explain—but it's Danny. Danny Fenton.”

Tucker peeked through his hand to see the smile on Vlad's lips widen. 

“Daniel Fenton, my godson, you mean?” Vlad said. “That's quite the accusation.”

“I know it is. Trust me,” Tucker said. “But—okay, so basically, I think what happened was that Danny was in some sort of lab accident, and it killed him. He talks about it sometimes, but he doesn't give any details. But I'm pretty sure that was it. Because only like a month after that happened, all the ghosts started appearing. And Phantom too. I—uh, here. Hang on, let me show you...” Tucker leaned over and pulled his tablet from his backpack. He opened it and went to his files, opening a pdf of his comparison photos. He handed the tablet to Vlad, saying, “This is them side by side in different positions. You can really see it there, when the photos are lined up like this. They look exactly the same. But that's not all! Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Vlad said, swiping through the pdf.

“Look, I don't really know how to explain it, but Danny's just...he's different now. He disappears before ghosts attack, he comes back all beat and sometimes bloody. He's cold, way colder than normal, and sometimes I see him—when someone's annoying him or if he's pissed—where it's almost like...like he can't even contain his human form anymore. His eyes get green, and sometimes ectoplasm sparks in his palms. It's not human.”

“And you see this as...a problem?” Vlad looked up from the tablet. “If Daniel was Phantom?”

“Why wouldn't it be? Don't you have this whole initiative to get rid of ghosts?” Tucker argued.

If anything, that seemed to amuse Vlad more. He set the tablet down and said, “But of course, I wasn't insinuating anything. I merely just acknowledge that Daniel is your best friend and that most of you youths enjoy Phantom's presence in this city.”

“Only the blind ones do. I know better. Phantom is bringing the ghosts into this town. Mr. Masters, you know how all ghosts have Obsessions?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, Phantom’s Obsession is being a hero, right? What's more heroic than setting up a bunch of ghost fights to 'save' people from?”

Vlad's smile was almost impossibly wide now. “Yes, I understand.”

Something was amusing to that billionaire creep, but Tucker hardly had time to figure out what before Vlad was up out of his seat, pacing around his kitchen.

“You see, I already know all this. You understand, I'm the one funding this city's anti-ghost initiative. And I also know that young Daniel is Phantom.”

Tucker's jaw dropped. “You do?”

“But of course, I do!” Vlad pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on it for a minute before passing it off to Tucker. In an encrypted app that Tucker didn't recognize was a video. 

“Well, go on,” Vlad said.

Tucker pressed play on the video to see a dimly lit alley with Phantom standing at the end of it. He glanced around, and then white rings appeared, passing over his body. A white T-shirt and jeans replaced a black suit, and black hair replaced white hair.

The rings disappeared, and the person that remained was none other than Danny Fenton.

Tucker blinked, and his head snapped out of the memory. His eyes refocused, and Danny Fenton sat in front of him, still talking to Sam, his posture still far too easygoing for someone who wasn't even human.

His human form was impressively detailed. His unruly black hair, dash of freckles on his cheeks, blue eyes, and pointed nose—all signature traits of Danny. He had gotten it almost perfect.

Almost. 

It made Tucker's blood boil, and he struggled to push it down, keep it in check. Ghosts could feel intense emotions.

The calm mask slipped over him once more, and Tucker was empty. Just empty.

Just how, when he stared into Danny's eyes, he could see that same emptiness too. There was no humanity left. No, that'd died almost two years ago now. All that remained was a ghost. 

He wanted his friend back. But that was impossible. The only thing that he could do now was wipe all ghosts out so no one ever suffered the way Tucker was right now.

He was a hacker, so once he got the tech, programming it was a piece of cake. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit harder than that, but he was nothing if not determined.

And he was nothing if not a damn good programmer.

And now he had the power to fix this, end the ghostly invasion in Amity, end Phantom's terrorizing reign, and set his former friend free.

“What do you think, Tuck?” Danny turned to face Tucker.

“Huh?” Tucker grunted, his elbow nearly slipping from his desk. “Sorry, what are we talking about?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you really have been spacey today. Sleep well last night?”

No, he hadn't, actually. Because Phantom had set up another attack at 2 a.m. and so Tucker had to intervene.

Danny was wearing long sleeves today. Good. It meant that Tucker's shot really had nailed his bicep.

“No, sorry,” Tucker chuckled. “Was rushing to get Lancer's essay done. I can't work on it this weekend; my cousins are coming to town.”

“Again?” Sam asked.

No, they weren't. Tucker hadn't seen his cousins since Christmas. 

“Yeah, my aunt and my mom are in this whole midlife crisis thing right now. Want to make sure we all bond properly or something.” Tucker waved his hand haphazardly. “You know how moms are.”

That was the perfect trigger for Sam, who huffed expectantly. “Oh yeah, don't even get me started. My mom is still trying to make me bond with Kate. Kate's two years older than me and was the head of her cheer team. Like, hello? You can only imagine what her playlists are like.”

“You should blast some death metal next time,” Danny said.

“Trust me, I have. It's the only way to get her to shut up.”

“Must not be death enough.” Danny flashed his teeth in a mischievous smile. “I’m sure I can help put together a playlist if you want.”

That cocky motherfucker…

Did he enjoy gloating over everyone? Did he really laugh at them when he was alone, all the stupid, idiotic, airhead humans who he thought didn’t notice anything?

Squashing his emotions was suddenly too difficult, and just before the internal tea kettle was able to whistle, Tucker was saved by the bell.

Oh, thank god.

Tucker was out of his seat before anyone else, scooping his notebook from his desk, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and racing out the door before Sam or Danny could catch up.

Still, when against his better conscience he glanced over to his friends, he didn’t miss the subtle look Danny gave him or the green glint in the corner of his eye…

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

If only it was easy.

****

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