End Times Retrospective

I know what you're thinking - where the Sam Hell is HFR?

Well, it's not long away. It's been delayed due to difficulties on FFN (I've been unable to copy-paste extracts from what I'm reviewing) but I've worked that out now. So probably this month. Maybe. We'll see.

To tide you over, here's a nice riffing of the story that made my very obscure name on FFN - End Times! How does it hold up? What was I thinking? Let's find out!

Chapter One: In Which Things Get Started (and I find out FFN has removed all my line breaks for no reason.)

Timmy Turner. Genius Playboy Millionaire Philanthropist?
Day One – 8:30, US West Coast Time. Oh, this. This was both a pain to keep track, and it messed with the pace. BUT IT WORKED IN CALL OF DUTY THEREFORE IT MUST WORK HERE
Dimmsdale, California.

School began in half and hour, but most students of the Dimmsdale Elementary School arrived early, at around eight thirty, to catch up with their friends and prepare themselves for the day ahead. They're a hell of a lot more enthusiastic then I was when I went to school.

Most had migrated into shelter today, as a torrent of thick rain was cascading over Southern California, with no signs of slowing any time soon. I should note that I know next to nothing about Californian weather, so this may be horribly unlikely.

Timmy Turner was sitting with his friends, Chester McBadbat and AJ Ibrehim (Fanon!), under the cover of a tree several metres from the door to the school. Does this school not have shelters or anything?

"…I'm just saying, logically speaking," AJ was saying, "Crash Nebula would beat the Crimson Chin. He's got the technology of a future world behind him, it's an overwhelming advantage!" I wonder if this is the FOP version of Batman v. Superman? Incidentally SUPERMAN WINS

"The Chin sneers at your technology!" snapped Chester. (1). Oh god a footnote. And I ripped off Irregular Webcomic.

"Guys," sighed Timmy, "You already had this argument, remember?" Internet, take note.

"There's nothing else to talk about," replied AJ.

"I could tell you about the time pop tried to fix the can," suggested Chester. Toilet humour - the highest of high brow humour.

"No," said Timmy and AJ, simultaneously.

"Hey, I got something," mused AJ, "Did you hear about the bank robbery on Baker Terrace?" I definately should have called it Baker Street. (cue saxophone solo)

"That isn't fun, nor does it involved plumbing," sighed Chester.

"No, seriously," AJ continued, "The weird thing is, they only robbed one safe – all the others were intact. The Police say they were after something other then money." I'm pretty sure this never comes up again.

"Yeah? What would that be?" demanded Chester, "Bread?"

"I don't know," replied AJ, "Apparently they've got M.E.R.F. involved."

Timmy's eyes widened.

"M.E.R.F.? Why do they need those windbags?" Yeah, those guys suck.

"It's a rumour," shrugged AJ.

The bell rang suddenly, and the two boys ran inside through the rain, leaving Chester on his own.

"Nobody noticed my pun?" he said, meekly, "You get it – Bakers Terrace – stealing bread." uuuuuuuuggggghhhh

There was a long silence.

"Was it really that bad?" he asked himself, as he walked through the rain to the door. Yes, Chester, yes it was.

INSERT LINE BREAK HERE

Vicky Delisle. I do like using voice actors as a source of fanon last names.
Day One – 8:44, US West Coast Time.
Dimmsdale, California.

Vicky was home alone 2: Lost in New York.

Not that it was a holiday or a pupil free day do they even have those in the US? at the Dimmsdale High School, mind you. She had simply told her parents that she needed a day off, specially for a Skip Sparkypants concert; her parents had bowed to her will (as usual) and fled the building (as usual).

Not that she particularly liked Skip Sparkypants as he was worse then Celine Dion - what, you expected a Bieber joke? – she was just going to terrorise the guy into augmenting her already significant stockpile of money.

Her time at home alone was interrupted quite suddenly, however, when a black sedan pulled into the driveway. She was about to give them a peace of her mind, when there were two muffled bangs from outside. A Mafia assassination had just occurred outside.

The front door came off its hinges.

Two men in dark suits and trench coats where did the trench coats come from? stamped into the room, one holding a large, black shotgun in his hands.

"Ms. Delisle," grinned the unarmed men, "How nice to see you. Have you considered investing in GEICO?"

"Who the heck are you?" demanded Vicky.

"Don't ask questions, ma'am," replied the man, "All will be answered soon enough. Tell me, have you ever been to New York?"

"No," snapped Vicky.

"Good, good," nodded the man, "New experiences."

The armed man produced a small tube and blew on it. A needle struck Vicky on the left arm. They used a blowdart. A blowdart. Who the hell is he, Edward Kenway?

"HEY!" shouted Vicky, clenching her fists, "What the heck was that?"

"Don't worry ma'am," grinned the unarmed one, "It's a sedative."

"A…what?"

Vicky's world began to blur as her eyelids became heavier.

"Good night, Mr. Anderson Ms. Delisle," the unarmed man said.

Then, there was nothing.

WHERE. IS. My. LINEBREAK?!!

Danny Fenton.
Day One – 11:50, US Eastern Standard Time.
Manhattan, New York.

Penn Station was a pretty busy place, being a major rail hub in New York City. In fact, it was the busiest in North America. Source: Wikipedia.

So nobody noticed two suited blokes I used the word bloke in third person narrative. Why? carting heavy suitcases, one with an unconscious fourteen year old boy over his shoulders. I'm pretty sure somebody would notice that. Those who saw Danny Fenton's unconscious form simply thought he'd fallen asleep on the train, and commented on how cute he looked sleeping. "What an adorable kidnapping!"

Penn Station exited onto 31st Street in Midtown Manhattan. The men walked a few hundred yards down this road, until they reached a subway entrance why is there a subway a few hundred yards from Penn Station - you know, a MAJOR DESTINATION ON THE NEW YORK SUBWAY SYSTEM. Walking downstairs, they turned left into what was marked as a janitor's closet.

This 'closet' was actually a short corridor leading to a lift.

The men boarded the lift, a pressed a big button that simply said 'DOWN' in big red letters. The lift doors closed and it shuddered downwards. It opened to reveal another corridor, at the end of which was a giant, but grey and bland, reception foyer. It's a very brutalist secret agency, you see.

This was M.E.R.F. headquarters.

The men walked to the desk, where a short, blonde woman greeted them.

"This one's for the Director," they said, bluntly.

"Access granted," nodded the woman, almost robotically. I'm pretty sure this woman was supposed to actually be a robot, but was dropped from the plot almost immediately.

The wall behind her lifted, revealing yet another flight of stairs. The two men walked briskly down them, into the dark room that was the Director's office.

The Director of M.E.R.F. was a short, stout man, who was bald and had a small, thin moustache no, not a Hitler moustache. It's horizontal. He wore a plain one-piece suit, with polished shoes and a white tie.

"You got Fenton," he noted. Good spotting, D.

"Yes sir," nodded one of the agents, "He was unconscious on the entire transit from Amity Park to New York." If Amity Park is in Illinois, which I'm pretty sure is stated in the Beginning, that's about a thousand miles away. He must have been really out of it.

"Good," nodded the Director, "Leave him with me."

The agents put Danny down on a chair before the Director and left the room, the door clicking behind them.

Danny's eyes began to open.

"Rise and shine, Misssster Freeman Ah, good morning Mister Fenton, I trust you slept well," grinned the Director.

"Wh…where am I?" asked Danny, weakly rubbing his head.

"In a bunker several hundred feet below Midtown Manhattan, Mr. Fenton," replied the Director, bluntly.

"What?" demanded Danny, jolting in his seat. "Manhatten?! Ah man, I wanted to go to Staten Island!"

"Manhattan, New York," explained the Director, his grin widening, "Y'know, the city that never sleeps?"

"New York? I'm on the freaking east coast?" snapped Danny.

"Don't worry, you'll be returned home unharmed," reassured the Director, "For now…I have a job offer for you, Mr. Phantom." I can't remember if I explained how the Director knows about Danny's identity.

Danny's jaw dropped.

-----

Chapter Two: Of Turtles and Terrors (yeah, this story got a lot grimmer then originally expected. It's like Harry Potter.)

Anti-Cosmo and HP my computer used to be an HP.
Day One – 9:52, US West Coast Time.
Anti-Cosmo's Castle, Anti-Fairy World.

Jorgen Von Strangle liked to consider himself the alpha-male – the leader among sheep and cattle. That's not an alpha male, that's a predator.

In actually, HP believed, he was more like a crab – you wouldn't necessarily want to tangle with him, but he was content to remain within his shell.

This 'shell' was the secrecy of the fairy, their way of life as it had been for a million years, and Jorgen was almost fanatical in retaining it. Yep, sounds about right.

So fanatical that he'd ruin people.

So fanatical that he'd drag his people down.

So fanatical that he hadn't realised that his shell was already collapsing around him. OH NOES

Anti-Cosmo had been remarkably quiet this meeting, simply nodding periodically as Sanderson gave his report. HP knew his colleague was in deep thought, probing the inner thoughts of his mind (milk carton falls over) for his next plan to crumble Fairy World and spread his 'bad luck' across the universe.

HP had increasingly realized that 'bad luck' meant chaos, pure and simple. So basically, Anti-Cosmo is a Chaos God.

Anti-Cosmo cleared his throat, suddenly.

"Gentlemen," he stated, "I have made a plan." I have a cunning plan!

He poofed a map of the Earth, much to HP's surprise.

"Earth?" he asked in his unenthusiastic tone.

"If we can attack the Earth without Von Strangle stopping us," stated Anti-Cosmo, "The fairies will know their power has weakened. They will either cower…or defect." Okay, fair enough.

"A morale blow," nodded HP, "It's a good call, but Von Strangle will never let it pass. We still don't have the power to take him on hand to hand…"

"We won't need to, my good man!" grinned Anti-Cosmo, "We can be in, flatten a city, cause a bit of chaos and be out again before he's finished his breakfast!" Good idea - PRETTY SURE IT NEVER REALLY HAPPENS

"Not possible," said HP.

"I've made it so," grinned Anti-Cosmo, "It cost me my own flesh and blood, but I've made it so." So yeah, that's why Foop isn't in this.

"How so?" asked HP.

"Ask no questions," grinned Anti-Cosmo, "Be told no lies."

DA DADADA LINE BREAK - DA DADA LINEBREAK - DA DADA LINEBREAK - WHERE HAS IT GONE?!

Danny Fenton.
Day One – 13:20, US Eastern Standard Time.
Manhattan, New York.

"…so, I'd be paid three hundred bucks a day, and I'd be doing my country a favour?" quizzed Danny. Three hundred bucks a day? Director, you cheapskate.

"That you would," nodded the Director.

"Forget it," snapped Danny, "I mean, you kidnapped me, gave me a sedative and dragged me to other side of the country to offer me a job? That's pretty heavy handed." Oh please, the NSA's done worse then this.

"Don't do it for the money, Mr. Fenton," said the Director, "Do it for your family. </unsubtle threat.>"

"Leave my family out of this!" roared Danny.

"Alright then, go home," shrugged the Director, "Go home and live out the next four days in happiness, then die a horrible death with the rest of your family, friends and neighbours."

"What the heck are you talking about?" demanded Danny. Nukes?

The Director pushed a button on his desk.

All of a sudden, Danny was standing in the middle of a ruined city street under a blackened sky. All buildings around him were rubble – nothing was left standing. Men in black uniforms were carting sheeted stretchers down the road to already laden trucks, shoving them in the back. How is this vision happening? NEVER ADEQUATELY EXPLAINED!

"This is five days from now. That's the San Diego Morgue Express," said the Director. Danny had not realized he was still there.

"What happened?" gasped Danny.

"A force unknown hit our planet," replied the Director, "Everything was destroyed. San Diego's the largest city in America and the entire world is in anarchy, thanks to this force. This force you can stop. I can brief you in how to do so…if you accept my offer." Basically, join or die.

Danny looked at a nearby building and nearly fainted at the ruined sign attached to it.

'Fenton Works'. Oh no, it's the Ultimate Enemy!

Then he was back in the office, shaken from the simulation of the future.

"How did you do that?" he demanded.

"We have a psychic in our employ," the Director replied, "He gives us snapshots of the future." He's a pretty good photographer.

Danny looked the Director square in the eye.

"Tell me everything, and I'll help he," he growled. Who's he?

The Director chuckled.

"Welcome aboard, Agent Fenton, welcome aboard."

Line Berk

Timmy Turner.
Day One – 11:00 US West Coast Time.
Dimmsdale, California.

Timmy Turner walked into the cafeteria men's room to find it practically destroyed. "Oh no not again!"

Looking around for the source of the desolation, he saw – and very narrowly ducked – a flying toilet bowl. As he pulled himself of the ground, he heard a loud, familiar voice.

"Is that all you got, nag?" Is that the best you can do?!

Timmy rolled his eyes.

"What are you two doing now?" he snapped.

Cosmo and Wanda looked at him. Both were on opposite sides of the room, both had large objects in their hands, and both looked very angry. This is what the Super Bowl does to people.

"What the heck is going on?" demanded Timmy.

"She started it," snapped Cosmo, "You know how she is, nag, nag, nag, all day long…"

"Cosmo, you were throwing baseballs at Poof!" yelled Wanda. Yeah, I'm on her side here.

"I was teaching him to catch!" defended Cosmo. You're none too bright, are you?

"He's a newborn!" snarled Wanda, "You could've hurt him!"

"There you go again, nag, nag, nag," groaned Cosmo.

"I wouldn't need to if you weren't a stupid, immature, insensitive…goblin!" Oh, daaaaammmnnn!

Cosmo gasped.

"Take that back!" he snarled.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll call you a…a…nag!" *insert Naked Gun facepalm here*

"Do you guys have to fight?" cried Timmy, "You're in the men's room! Go to the Ladies, geez!"

"Fine!" snapped Wanda, "I'll take it somewhere else, if you so want me gone!" You want you freedom, take it...that's what I'm counting on...

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like…"

Too late. Wanda poofed away in a cloud of pink smoke.

"Drat," groaned Timmy.

"I'm going away too," snapped Cosmo, "I'm going home to raise my son and raid your fridge!" I've got to admit, I love that line.

He, too, poofed away, just as the door opened.

Timmy's heart sank as Denzel Crocker took in the destruction and uttered a single word. "Farfegnugen."

'Detention!"

Timmy Turner had seen his godparents fight before. By now he considered it odd when a day passed without them doing so. He hated the later seasons. Someone would leave for Fairy World, and then at the end of the day, they'd come back, kiss and make up and prepare to fight again tomorrow. Nice and functional, then.

Timmy though for the rest of the day about what he'd say to his fairy godparents when Wanda came home. They'd be in for an earful for getting him detention, he knew so much.

But Wanda didn't come home. She had emigrated to Cuba.

---

Chapter Three: Opportunities (APPLY AT CRAIGSLIST no pay)

Anti-Cosmo.
Day One – 11:45 US West Coast Time.
His Castle, Anti-Fairy World.

Anti-Cosmo was intrigued, if not surprised.

It was apparent that the humans, for all their stupidity, were on to him. Specifically, MERF! That's like Italian tankettes beating off IS-2s! A government agency, calling themselves the Military Extraterrestrial Research Facility, was on a recruitment drive, abducting Mr. Daniel Fenton and Ms. Vicky Delisle for their services, convinced that these two were the key to stopping him.

The half-ghost, Anti-Cosmo understood. The girl…less so.

He continued to float back and forth in his chamber, the large table empty of any other beings. His strike on the humans would go unplanned – a bit of monumental destruction was always fun, if that time they knocked down the Eiffel Tower meant anything.

The door knocked, and two Anti-Fairy sentries invited themselves in.

"Anti-Bernard, what brings you here?" asked Anti-Cosmo. Anti-Monty and Anti-Patton. I regret nothing.

"We have a prisoner, sah," replied the left sentry, who wore a black beret and had a thin moustache. He spoke with a thick English Regimental accent.

"Really?" mused Anti-Cosmo in an uncaring tone, "How delightful. I've no time for prisoners; throw them to the dungeon…"

"Sah…it's the pink-haired one." Cupid?

Anti-Cosmo turned, intrigued.

"Marvellous," he grinned, "My counterparts more then one? beloved! However did you get her?"

"She came on her own will," replied the second sentry, a helmeted man with a Texan accent replied.

"Did she now, Anti-George?" he mused, "That…presents us an opportunity…PREPARE MY CHAMBERS."

---

OH MY GOD THE LINEBREAKS ARE BACK! YAAAAY!

Agent Danny Fenton.
Day One – 14:50, US Eastern Standard Time.
Manhattan, New York.

"…so something, though we don't know what, is going to destroy all major global cities except San Diego, although we don't know why, in five days time?" asked Danny. Why San Diego? Why not, say, Berlin?

"All we know is the culprit's name is Anti-Cosmo and it'll happen in five days," replied the Director, "The psychic's visions aren't usually this specific anyway, so you should be happy we know anything. Also, we're MERF, so you shouldn't really expect much."

The two were sitting in the Director's office, waiting for an agent the Director had called Colonel Saunders to come back with 'the other applicant'. Danny had exchanged his signature T-shirt and jeans for a black suit and tie, similar to the other agents of M.E.R.F.

"Now remember," reminded Danny, "I'm here until we save the world, then I'm gone."

"Yep, got it, kapeesh," nodded the Director, rolling his eyes, "After this blows over, I don't care what you do as long as its not threatening the Government." Good, make sure you tell the GiW.

"Sir."

Agent Saunders, a short man with a goatee (Danny found it humorous LOLOLOLOLOLOL) carried another person into the room, and Danny raised his eyebrows.

It was a girl, perhaps his age or thereabouts, with red hair and a ponytail. She was wearing a green short-sleeved shirt and black jeans, and was still out of it.

"She woke up when Brown and Pearson were changing planes at Memphis," he explained, "They had to use another sedative. Brown says she probably won't be easy to convince." By which they mean you'll probably get punched.

"Brown says lots of things," shrugged the Director, "Dismissed, Saunders."

The agent left the room, just as the girl began to blink.

"Ms. Delisle, I trust you had a good sleep?" grinned the Director.

The girl shot up in her seat, her pink eyes practically glowing with rage.

Danny thought that sentence over again.

Pink eyes? Did she wear contacts or something?

"Where am I?" she bellowed.

"The Headquarters of the Military Extraterrestrial Research Facility, several feet below Midtown Manhattan, Ms. Delisle," replied the Director, calmly.

"Manhattan! You creeps took me to Manhattan? I wanted Brooklyn!"

"What's not to do in Manhattan?" shrugged the Director, "The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty that isn't in Manhattan, the Natural History Museum…"

"Why am I here?" demanded Vicky, gritting her teeth and making his hands into fists.

"Two reasons," replied the Director, "Number one is that unless you join us there is a high probability that the world will end in a fiery bang."

His grin faded a little.

"The other is about you," he continued, "I'm not gonna beat around the bush – you've been living a lie." Raises eyebrow.

---

HP and Sanderson.
Fourteen Years Ago in the grim darkness of the 1990s – 23:05 US West Coast Time.
Dimmsdale, California.

The rain bucketed down on the roof of the suburban houses as HP and Sanderson made their way down the street in human disguises. Sanderson had conjured an umbrella to keep them dry in the dark streets, and was holding that so that HP could carry the bundle in his arms.

The 'corporate takeover' of Fairy World had failed once again, and with the completion of the next Thirty Year Plan still thirteen years away, HP needed insurance policy – an opportunity to fall back on if things went wrong with the slowly forming alliance with the Anti-Fairies. FORESHADOWING

So he had this.

A fairy baby an agent of his had taken from a Fairy World orphanage. Fact is, everyone was confused by its existence – there had not been a fairy baby since the birth of Cosmo Julius Cosma fifty-thousand years earlier, and yet here this one was. The stork did it.

Illegal, uncared for and now, thanks to Jorgen Von Strangle, stricken from the records. No one would ever know it existed, and it would not have lasted long. JORGEN KILLS BABIES

The fairy council had ordered it liquidated. For once – and it amused HP greatly – the Pixies had the moral high ground in taking it in. Not that it would be with them for long. To the orphanage!

The small, ball shaped baby was dying already – nearly fifty percent of its magic power drained by the council. Its body would expire within an hour. HP wanted this baby to survive for a very special reason. Social experimentation.

A fairy baby, for the first ten hours of its life, creates an aura around it. This aura of magic is its natural defence against Dark Magic. Dark Magic was unlike anything a typical magical creature – fairy, pixie or anti-fairy – could typically conjure. It required a very special kind of evil, what one would call 'chaotic evil'; a desire to destroy and alarm for fun. 'Cos it's so easy when you're evil...

Even HP found the prospect of such magic disturbing, but the Anti-Fairy leader, Anti-Cosmo, was enticed by the idea of chaos, in fact almost obsessed. So HP had come up with a plan for two items in which to stop him – this baby, and something he had placed in the bank on Baker Terrace. Why there?

HP arrived at his destination – a normal house. Three men stood out the front.

"HP," nodded the Director of M.E.R.F., "Glad you could make it."

"Charming," replied HP, monotonously, "Do you have the girl?"

"Yep," said a tall, bearded man wearing a black military officer's uniform, "We do this quickly, the Delisle's will never know their newborn was ever gone." Ah, good old fashioned fae kidnapping.

"Yes, that's charming, General, but can we do this quickly?" the final, white-haired young man snapped.

"Of course," agreed the Director, "General Fisher, if you will?"

The General nodded, and held the human baby forward.

The newborn girl giggled, and pressed her tiny hand on the fairy.

The fairy baby dissolved into an aura, which soon surrounded the newborn. She giggled some more, and her eyes turned from hazel to pink. FUSION DANCE! ...god, I hate that show.

"Well," nodded Fisher, "I'm more of a ghost expert, but I'd say that the merge was successful." "I don't always merge babies but when I do..."

"Pretty good observation, of a GiW guy," nodded the Director.

"I'll take her back home," suggested the younger man.

"Of course, Mister…" HP began.

"Masters. Vlad Masters." Gasp!

"Yes," nodded HP.

He and Sanderson walked away without another word. HP continued to ponder. The girl would grow up in a human environment living a human life in a human body, and with luck, she'd never know of the world she had been born into. This seems a bit familiar COUGH HARRY POTTER COUGH

If Anti-Cosmo betrayed him, or if that alliance became unprofitable…

HP shook these thoughts away and poofed home.

---

Agent Danny Fenton and Vicky Delisle.
Day One – 14:55, US Eastern Standard Time.
Manhattan, New York.

"…and that's the story," finished the Director, "Since then, we believe HP's lost any doubts about Anti-Cosmo."

"So…I'm a fairy?" asked Vicky, in quiet incomprehension.

"Half," replied the Director, "Maybe even less Maybe like 43% or something."

"Welcome to my world," said Danny, under his breath.

"You never told me this?" growled Vicky.

"Never needed to," shrugged the Director, "Put it this way – if HP tried to betray us and attempted to use you, we'd have been required to…"

He glanced at his holster. The Government - they don't get a good showin' here.

"You know what I mean," he sighed, "Anyway, General Fisher died last year and Mr. Masters has severed his ties with us…"

"Good," snapped Danny.

"…so between him and us, four human beings know of your status."

"…and you think that'll make me help you," sneered Vicky, "Forget it!"

"You have a criminal record, Ms. Delisle," said the Director, bluntly, "The Dimmsdale School Newspaper intends to publish evidence of your treatment of children under your care. It's a highly reputable work, Ms. Delisle. Six people read it."

He grinned.

"I can make it disappear…Agent Delisle. I can beat up small children to make them stop writing."

He held out his hand.

Vicky stared at it for a moment.

"Dang, you're good," she sighed, taking it.

---

Anti-Cosmo and Wanda.
Day One – 11:55 US West Coast Time.
Anti-Cosmo's Castle, Anti-Fairy World.

"What you're saying is technically treason, Wanda," stated Anti-Cosmo, crossing his arms as he sat back in his chair, "Have you thought it over?"

"I'm sick of them," Wanda sighed, "Cosmo, Jorgen, Timmy…I'm sick of them all. Therefore they must die."

Anti-Cosmo grinned.

"Don't worry, Madame," he grinned, somewhat slyly, "You've come to the right place…"

TER BEAR CONTINUEDED