Disclaimer: I do not own 'Danny Phantom' or any of the characters, concepts etc. Those are owned by Butch Hartman/Nickelodeon, I believe. I make no claim to anything in this story, it is a perspective with hypothetical scenarios added in.

The Edge of Reason

Chapter 7: Of Course it's a Trap...

Sam sighted down the barrel of her ecto-bazooka once more, ensuring it was lined up right at the centre of the alley even though it hadn't moved an inch since she'd last checked it, thirty seconds ago.

Something was wrong; Wulf should have been back by now.

The manoeuvre they had planned was simple and it had worked flawlessly at least a dozen times already today. Wulf would flank a large group of enemies, harass them for a bit, and then dash away, seemingly fleeing. The angered but confident ghosts would follow as Wulf led them down some sort of narrow chokepoint and right into the path of Sam's weapons.

One small, on demand ghost portal later and the problem was solved.

It was clean, efficient and it conserved Sam's impressive, but still only human, stamina.

But normally Wulf was gone for no more than two minutes; it had now been more than three times that.

Shifting slightly in her concealed position (it wouldn't do to be seen by a random ghost passing overhead, after all), she strained her ears to try and make out any hint of Esperanto over the chaos of the battle occurring around her, something that might give her a hint as to Wulf's location and status.

Nothing.

Sighing forcefully and trying to ignore the leaden weight of anxiety that was steadily growing in her gut, she sighted in on the alleyway once again, just in case her lupine friend came bounding through it, angry ghosts in pursuit.

He didn't.

Another minute passed and Sam could feel her anxiety growing exponentially with every second that passed. Her instincts, which had been whispering that something was wrong ever since this whole mess started, had started screaming.

Tapping her Fenton-Phone, she tried to contact Wulf, desperately hoping that she wouldn't be distracting him at some crucial moment.

Silence was her only response.

The leaden weight instantly became a dread-laced anvil.

Frantically activating her comm once again, she tried a different approach.

"Jazz, do you have a location on Wulf? I can't raise him on the radio," she explained to the red-head on the other end of the line, stomping down on her rising panic.

"I've got him, he's three streets to your right… Sam, he's not moving."

The emotional dam burst, and Sam was racing down the alley.

Jazz must have seen her sudden burst of movement on her screen and inferred its reason.

"Sam? Sam! Listen, I'm sending re-enforcements, Frostbite's on his way with some of his warriors, just wait a moment, pleas-" her pleading voice was cut off as Sam tapped the earbud, silencing the device.

Her shoulder slammed into a brick wall as she raced around another corner, using the walls to redirect her rather than losing precious seconds slowing down every time she approached another building.

Another corner produced another abrasion on her now thoroughly marked armour as she finally reached her destination; the large mass of black fur trapped under a glowing green net was her main indication.

A primal, and currently rather useful, part of her subconscious noted that rushing out into the open would be a very bad idea. Of course, the crushing weight of her anxiety and fear for her friend's life overrode that realisation, as she dashed out to Wulf's immobile form.

She'd only just reached the netting when the thud of something heavy landing on the road behind her froze her in place. Another two sounds, asphalt crunching under foot, and she had adjusted her grip on the bazooka, as she prepared to swing it at her approaching foe. Another step, and she figured that was close enough.

She spun to her right, pivoting perfectly on her back leg as the force of the spin and the weight of the bazooka carried her through the action, the weapon perfectly placed to strike… nothing.

The improvised melee weapon struck nothing as it cleaved through the air, its momentum now a hindrance as the force of the follow-through nearly pulled Sam off her feet.

A moment of stunned incomprehension was all her mind afforded her before she remembered a pair of rather important facts.

'Right, ghosts can turn themselves invisible and intangible. So where is it now…'

A flicker of motion off to her left was the only warning she got before an immense weight slammed into her back, forcing her straight into the concrete of the sidewalk. The sharp crack of her armour's ceramic plates breaking alerted her to the fact that it had just saved her from a shattered spine, and that it probably wouldn't be able to stop a second blow.

She snap-rolled to the side, gritting her teeth against the spasms of pain in from her back and diaphragm, and brought her wrist-rays to bear on her attacker.

An eerily human skull, forged in a malleable metal, sneered back at her, while the burning eyes and flaming green Mohawk clearly identified her attacker; Skulker.

Not good.

While Danny might be more than a match for him, but his exosuit and variety of weapons made him far too dangerous for any human to fight one-on-one, especially if he had you at a disadvantage; like right now.

"This is why I don't normally hunt humans, you're too soft."

Seizing what little opening she had, Sam fired both her wrist-rays into Skulker's chest, only to watch in horror as the giant didn't even flinch, the thick metal of his suit barely even scratched by weapons, designed as they were to damage ectoplasm, not steel.

Quickly realising that this wasn't a fight she wasn't going to win, she lifted a hand to her comm to alert someone, anyone, but a cold steel grip stopped her short. Carefully, almost delicately, the other metallic arm removed the Fenton Phone and placed it on the pavement.

"Can't have the Whelp knowing you're in trouble yet, Plasmius has this whole 'Grand Plan' that he wants to go through first. And if you're mate plays along, you'll be returned to him soon enough, along with the whelplette."

Sam's eyes widened in shock at that.

"What the hell have you done with my Daughter!" She screamed at the hulking mass of metal in front of her, straining in vain against his vice-like grip.

"Nothing, yet. Plasmius wants you both in good condition; he seems to think it'll make the Whelp a bit less angry and more controllable," the huff of amusement he made conveyed exactly how likely he thought that would be.

"Then why shouldn't I struggle and make your job difficult?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you, human, or your child; there is no honour in that. Even the Whelp himself I mainly hunt for sport, rather than his pelt. But I have contracts to keep, and carrying out Plasmius' schemes is one of those contracts. So either you recognise when you are bested, or I will force your co-operation; either way you will be coming with me, it's up to you to decide how much pain you and your daughter will be in."

She didn't reply, but even as she continued to strain against his grip, he twisted her arms behind her back and secured some sort of restraint around them.

"At least let me see if my daughter's all right likes you said, if you've actually captured her."

Skulker merely jerked his thumb in a direction behind her.

Ice clutched her heart as she turned and saw the black hair and violet pyjamas framing an unconscious and slightly beaten Danielle.

She was so distracted by the sight of her beaten and trapped daughter that she didn't notice the needle spring out from one of the many ports on her captor's armour and when she felt it jab into her thigh, it was too late to do anything about it.

Darkness consumed her in seconds.