Work Text:
When Danny used to wonder what death was like, he always pictured the pooling of red. A comforting white light– that would softly beckon him to a peaceful reality where he would rest. Gone would be his worries, as would his troubles melt away like they were never there to begin.
He imagined fluffy white clouds, and kiwi chocolate milkshakes- as many as he desired.
He always imagined he would die first. He would wait in his cloud palace, lazing around, playing games while he waited for his friends to join him one by one.
He knew it was a bit morbid to imagine that he and his friends would die at all. But in a strange way it always brought him comfort to think that even after death, they would still be together.
But this time there were no troubles. No worrying about passing mister lancers “impossible” tests. No more worrying about getting shoved in his locker.
And this time, Paulina would actually decide to give him a chance.
After death, when they would probably be all wrinkly and old, (maybe like 30 or something?) and high school statues don't matter. She might actually want to date him.
He wouldn't be a loser anymore, after all. In fact, he always secretly liked to imagine he would be the king of the afterlife.
A stupid thought, of course. But sue him! Nothing would be sweeter than getting to command dash baxter. Make him do embarrassing things, and get revenge for all the locker shoving.
This was nothing like that.
This was excruciating pain rippling through his bones in waves. His muscles spasming like the tide, his throat dry, and raw from screams he failed to force out. Blood spraying in every direction like a wayward hose.
Eyes wide and unseeing, a constant chorus of nothing playing through his head as his mind fights to grasp onto any thought- any feeling, any–any semblance of anything besides sharp, hot pain.
Green.
He blinked. His mind screeching to a halt like a broken record.
Instead of red, it was green. all of it.
First the blood that was draining out of him like an unclogged sink, and then everything.
Swirling, twisting and pulsing. It was all green. Various shades of ectoplasm green blinked into existence before his very eyes. Over-consuming, vibrant, and so, so beautiful.
He reached a hand out, a first coherent thought slowly stitching itself into place as his fingers stretched across the striking void In front of him.
So this is what it's like.
His eyes watered, or at least, he thought they did. A wave of emotions crashed into him so suddenly he thought he might fall over. Could he still do that? He wasn't standing, of that he was sure.
The pain fizzled out into something almost tangible.
Warmth. That's what he had felt at that moment. His mouth twitched. A warmth unlike any he had felt before.
His eyes drooped. He wasn't quite tired, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to sink deeper into that feeling, and curl up in it forever. Sleep forever. Was that right? He didn't think he ever truly wanted to sleep before. Not like this anyway.
So this is what it's like. He repeats to himself. Mind still clinging to the only coherent thought he believed he had. It felt cloudy, distant. But still there– clear, coherent, real.
Forcing his mouth to part, he takes a breath. It stings, it burns. He isn't even sure if what he's breathing can even be considered air.
“So this is what it's like to die.” He finishes the thought out loud. Terrified it might fly away with the rest of his conciseness if he doesn't.
Wetness trails down his cheeks, he isn't sure if they are tears or not.
His lips wobble, his throat spasms. He shrieks, a terrifying sound that echoes off of nowhere. Rattling his bones, and ricocheting off of every green blood cell in his body.
Cold. An icy chill begins to trickle up his finger tips. It burns but not like fire.
He hisses– another terrifying sound he isn't sure came from him. His fingers feel heavy, heavy and frozen. Like icicles that are ready to drop from the shingles of someone's roof.
The ice spreads like fire, fast and hungry. Hungry for him.
I don't want to die! The thought suddenly occurs to him, he thinks it should've occurred sooner.
He forces his eyes open, he doesn't remember closing them. He stares desperately at the glowing green void that was so, so beautiful before. Begging silently to be let back in. Back into what– he isn't sure. But he begs anyway.
As quickly as it began, the ice fades. It fades into a steady chill that reminds him of late fall. Cold, but not dangerously so.
And with the cold, the pain he had forgotten fades too. And when he looks back up, green no longer stares back. Instead his two best friends- Sam, and Tucker, look down at him from above, looking haunted and terrified.
They wait there. Danny isn't sure for how long, but it feels like a while.
The three just stare, looking like they want to say something, but the words die as they attempt to crawl their way out of Danny's best friend's throats.
Finally, Sam seems to get the courage to speak. “Danny, i-” she falters. “what happened, are you- alright? What happened?” She looks beyond concerned. A little guilty too- wait that's not right, Sam never feels guilt.
Danny stares for what's probably a long time. “You're looking a little green.” He settles on. And she is! She's covered in the swirly green stuff- as if a chunk of the mesmerizing void threw up on her.
She stares at him, baffled. Tucker’s expression mirrors hers almost exactly.
She wipes a bit of– wait is that his newly green blood??? He realizes a little too late. Oh eww what the blegh– he chokes a little. Tucker and Sam both start flailing around a bit, clearly distressed, as he chokes on– wait is that more of his freshly green blood???
He retches, glowing- green blood spills past his lips like spilled syrup on pancakes.
He just sits there for a second, breathing. Breathing air he realizes. His eyes snap open for the third time, he's alive. He reaches a hand to cup his neck and face. He's alive.
His left hand still stings, but he's alive. How, he does not know. But he is, somehow.
He looks up, only then registering the trembling hands that clench his shoulders and back. Sam and Tucker. He notes. He's alive.
He reaches a hand out, his right one. Reciprocating tuckers hold on his shoulder with his own. He's alive and- he pauses.
His hand, it's glowing.
Glowing and black. He could've sworn the hazmat suit was white. Why is he glowing?
As quickly as he placed the hand, it's off.
He stares at it.
And stares at it.
And stares at it.
That's not right.
He springs up, choking down the urge to puke right back up again.
He runs across the lab, to where he knows there's a mirror.
He stops dead. Hand clenching the side of the mirror.
That's not him.
That'snothimthat’snothimtha’tsnothim.
Danny stared into the reflection, and it stared back.
The being in the reflection looked enough like him. But although it shared the same features, the same build and the same face. The creature that matched his gaze in the mirror had paler skin, eyes that glowed a radioactive green, and hair that was so bright, it hurt to stare at it for too long.
Danny had black hair. And blue eyes.
Not mutagen green eyes, and white, glowing hair.
What. The fuck. Danny thought before the reflection went “poof” and vanished. The next thing Danny knows he's somehow sunk through the floor.
Again. What. The fuck.